He stood in front of the restaurant, his solemn gaze fixed on the dark water rippling gently in combat with the breeze. He had just parted ways with Dawson and Joey, who had been his anxious passengers on the way to and from the hospital. For once, it had not been his driving that worried them.
Jen had an abnormality in her heart, discovered during her pregnancy, that had been known only to her and her grandmother. It sounded so simple, easily fixed. He had seen it done on TV medical dramas so often that he had been momentarily reassured that everything would be okay. It was the shock on Jack's face as he heard the news that was frightening to Pacey, more so than the words themselves. Jack knew everything about Jen because she told him everything. At least, everything she could handle to tell him. If she had kept this a secret, she had wanted to protect her best friend from the truth of what was happening. As Pacey put all the factors into context, any attempts on Mrs. Ryan's part to minimalize the dire nature of the situation became flimsy excuses at best.
The faint sound of lapping against the dock's aging pillars outweighed the fog of inebriation. His head was swimming but not with the vague indifference he would have preferred. Instead, he saw the terrifying image of her lying perfectly still on the dance floor, her heart struggling to beat. His breath caught in his chest, making him feel unsteady. Fear had finally stricken him. He had felt something similar when his father had been hospitalized for heart problems. The difference was he could not face this. Living a life without her would be impossible. He wanted to run but the heat of the day crushed against him, forcing him to sit, his legs dangling over the edge of the dock. Even if he had tried, he could not escape the dread. As he watched as the sun sink, bleeding against the earth, he remembered how differently it had looked on a summer night in New York.
The sun had faded with almost perfect time; the murky twilight glazed the horizon.
The people on the street seemed of a different world even though he had been one of them only hours ago. As he stared down, time was passing more quickly than he felt it should.
They had covered everything in those few short hours since his arrival. Flourishing careers, floundering relationships, both of which applied mostly to her. She had found her niche at an art gallery, even if the commute had her spending more time on public transit than at home and the pay kept her living in a cramped apartment with her grandmother. He knew that she did not mind the latter. She had said it herself, more than once, that she was just a little girl who needed her grandma. It was one of the things about her he could not help but love. Having to spend so much time on public transit did not seem to bother her terribly, either, seeing as it kept her away from her wandering boyfriend. She was not allowing it to show but intuition told him that she had grown more attached to the label then the content of her own relationship.
He did not say much outside of brief interjections and bits of what he considered wisdom, at least for him. She had made not so subtle attempts at prying into the goings on of his life but he always diverted back to her. There was not much he had to say that he wanted her to hear and what there was would have been daunting to them both. He preferred to listen instead. No matter the words, anything sounded better uttered from her lips.
Now, she was laying on her stomach, her cheek resting on the cool cotton of her pillow. "I'm glad you are here," she said abruptly. This is honestly the best I have felt in a very long time."
His eyes fixed on the window, though her lips danced in the their corners. "I try to break the monotony of misery wherever I go, Lindley. Luckily for you NYC was a slated venue on this year's summer tour." He tried to keep his tone as ambivalent as possible.
Glancing over, her chin resting on her shoulder, she eyed him. "No, seriously. This may border on cheesy but…You are the best thing for me at the moment."
"And what happens at the end of 60 seconds? Am I just the rotten Capesidian pumpkin in your life that you leave on the porch until it spoils or gets splattered all over the lawn by rowdy teenagers?" She grimaced. "Oh, Pace. I didn't mean it like that."
Pacey scooted close to her, desperate to spare her any unintentional pain. "Hey, I'm just messing around. I know you would never wash your hands of me, so to speak. I suppose that I am trying to find humor in the inevitability of you growing weary of me, finding a delicate but pointed way of asking me to leave." He had not intended to be so frank but there was nothing else for him to say. The truth, always managed to cripple him at the most inopportune times.
"Who said anything about you leaving? I just told you nothing makes me happier than almost anything. So you aren't going anywhere. Not now, not ever if you don't want to." She stopped herself abruptly, looking away as if she had revealed too much, before trying to redirect her mistaken sentiment. "I mean, I hear Joey plans to move here and Dawson will get rich soon enough, buy himself a disgustingly expensive loft in Manhattan. New York will become Capeside 2.0, strange as that sounds. That'll give you plenty of incentive to stay. All we would have to do is get Jack here."
Her words infuriated him. "I have all the incentive to be here that I need. I don't need my childhood clique. You are all I need. You. Just you. When are you going to accept that you are more than enough for me, Jen?"
Her eyes stared, blankly. No words of defense came to her and her silence only flustered him further. He again turned towards the window, attempting to fight back the sensation churning in his gut. He had not come all this way just to tear her apart, make her feel bad for something so trivial as not liking him back. He was not that petty. Still, he did not want to be spurned with silence.
"You cannot be what saves me, Pacey." She blurted the words out but they were barely audible. "I don't want you to be. Everything that I hold up so highly always falls short. I could not bear if that happened to you because you are the one person who never failed me.
"I don't want to save you. I am in no position to be that for myself, much less anyone else. Besides, I don't see anything that needs saving. Just an incredible woman who is worth more than she sees, more than other people see. All I want, Jen, is to be with you."
She did not look at him. "Is that why you came here?"
The answer was obvious as he cautiously traced the curve of her hip. "I just wanted to see your face again. To remember the way my reflection looked in your eyes. And the way my name sounded when you said it.
She did not move, not fleeing or facilitating. He knew he should be more hesitant but he passed on too many opportunities to have this moment with her. Now was not the time to question motives, even though he knew if he could see her eyes they would have been. His heart was racing, a product of wanting her and needing her to know that he did.
He inched her blue tank top up just enough to nuzzle the small of her back before gently brushing lips against the same spot. She shuttered, not able to resist the feel of this lips on her skin. The allure of his mouth was too tempting and she rolled on her back, causing him to shift his position as he reached his face up to hers.
His lips melted into hers, his hands moving over the soft curves of her body made him feel like stranger. Like he never touched her before. For a moment, he felt sixteen again. Slightly unsure of what he was suppose to be doing, how he was going to measure up against the others, his competition. This, however, was nothing like the pact they had formed back then. No holding back, no pretense, only an undeniable passion that had been held at bay for far too long. This was the time had been given, but had failed to acknowledge and he was not going to ignore it anymore. The intensity of her response, her invitation, removed any lingering doubt from his mind.
This will be a perfect night,
He felt a strong hand clamp on his shoulder, pulling him back from a scene he had replayed more times than he could actively recall. He turned his head to find Jack's face, eyes colored red from tears. Pacey came to his feet, attempting to suppress the word, "what." It would have been idiotic to question the obvious, forcing Jack to repeat the devastating words he'd had no time to process himself. He pulled his friend close, unashamed of an embrace. They were going to lose her so what did anything else matter now.
he recalled thinking before he made love to Jen.