Hello again, lovelies. So much happened in the second epi that we thought it needed one more ficlet. We hope you enjoy reading what our take on what may have happened after the Pep Rally.

*~*Causatum*~*

I.

It wasn't seeing Andie make a beeline for the girl's restroom as I pushed my way out of the auditorium against the crowd.

It wasn't the volume of the engine as you gunned the Wagoneer when I found you outside.

Unable to see past my own churning emotions, it was neither of those things.

It was the heavy, loaded silence during the ride home that made me realize…

Something was very wrong.

Wanting to get off the school grounds as quickly as possible, I'd banged on the hood, then swung the passenger door open and asked for a ride. You hadn't said anything - simply nodded as I'd jumped in. But that wasn't out of character - let's face it, we'd never been ones for exchanging pleasantries.

It was then I noticed your face stoic, but your eyes a tumult of pain and fury.

I knew what was wrong with me, hell the whole auditorium knew, but I didn't understand your silence. Yet.

Once I'd calmed and settled enough to take in my surroundings I could almost feel the pain emanating off of you.

Several long minutes passed, the only sound came from the rush of air through the half-open window as the car sped along. I watched you cautiously from the corner of my eye, waiting. Then more waiting. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten I was in the car until you finally spilled your guts. Your words were low and terse, dripping through a clenched jaw. You didn't look at me but stared straight ahead through the windshield. It's as though you were worried you might see some accusation on my face. Or maybe it was purely embarrassment that kept you from meeting my gaze. Something with which I was acutely familiar.

Now I stand in my driveway watching as you back up, an arm thrown over the back of the seat. You don't look in my direction again.

I'm sure my heartfelt words regarding forgiveness fell on deaf ears. And honestly, I can't blame you for not being responsive right now. I just hope that you don't make any hasty decisions and do something you later regret. Maybe you'll take a few days to think things over and then talk to Andie. Shaking my head at these thoughts, I sigh. What am I thinking? It's you; of course you'll act first then think later. I'm the one who over-analyzes everything. You… well, you simply rely on instinct.

Not ready to face the hustle and bustle of bath and bedtime inside the Potter household, I decide to head for my dock to reflect on my less-than-stellar day. Neither of us had one, did we? I'm starting to get used to it but I can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for you. You had such high hopes just yesterday morning.

How could Andie do that to you? She really must be crazy. But… I don't know, I'm not excusing Andie for what she did, but isn't it better to come clean about an affair than to keep it a secret? Like dad did with mom. She'd known, he never said anything. But she'd known. Hell, we'd all known.

Sitting down, I lean back on my hands and close my eyes. A civil Potter/Witter relationship seems inevitable at this point. All I can hope is you'll at least let me try to be there for you, the same way you've been there for me, but somehow I don't think we're there yet. You're so very closed off at the moment.

My sneaker rocks the edge of my rowboat tied up in its usual place, the movement causing ripples to spread across the creek. I know my concern for you is the only thing that is keeping my focus from the trauma of witnessing yet another horrifying moment in the sexual education of Mr. Dawson Leery. Can you blame me? Pep Rally turned Peep Show. Gah! Post break up, most people aren't privy to their exes new relationship in all its slutty glory. So why me?

Maybe it's for the best. Every new dagger thrust into my heart only serves to carve out my hope and expectations with regard to Dawson until I'm left with… nothing. No humiliation, no shame, no love. Nothing but the necessity to move on.

So why is it I can't see a future without Dawson in it?

Much like the last night I was in this exact place, I roar to myself, 'I am Joey Potter! I will survive. Because that I know how to do.'

Laughing at my internal drama queen I sadly shake my head. Big words… Yet here I am… the very act of pulling the oars through the murky water prevents me from being able to see where I'm going as I head toward the other side of the creek to share my newfound revelations with the same person I always have.

Seems I'm still more comfortable looking backward.

II.

'I knew it! I fucking knew it. The minute I saw that rich little fuck lying on your bed. Man, Andie, how could you? How could you take this thing, this special thing we had and waste it? And you claim to love me? Well, newsflash, sweetheart - you don't cheat on someone you love. I don't give a shit what Potter says. I don't have to forgive you. Hell, I'm not gonna forgive you.'

Fuming, I drove aimlessly ranting to myself against Andie, against that fuck Marc, even against Joey just because she was convenient and, well, I'd had plenty of practice at it.

'Every fucking day this summer, I waited. I waited for you to get better and come home to me. To us. You were supposed to be getting better, Andie, not getting laid. Was that part of your therapy? What the hell kind of hospital is that place anyway? It makes me sick just thinking about it.'

The twinkle lights of the boardwalk caught my attention and, without thinking, I aimed for the parking lot. Downtown was deserted and I carelessly pulled over and headed toward the water. I don't know if I wanted to rub salt in the wounds or purge myself of all our places.

I stopped mid-stride when I saw you sitting on that bench - the same bench where I found you after the dance. In the same place we danced without music. On the night we first kissed and our hearts beat as one.

Shaking my head and letting out a humorless laugh, I walked toward you. Hey, might as well suck the memories right out of this spot while we have the chance, eh?

You know, I'm not even sure what I said to you? The questions, which only moments ago had been burning inside me for answers, no longer mattered the moment I looked in your eyes.

All I wanted was for it to be over.

I was proud of myself for staying so calm. I couldn't really hear or process what you were saying; your voice didn't penetrate what seemed like a layer of foam rubber wrapped around my head.

After I pried your fingers from my wrist and walked away, I could still hear you sniffling but, oddly, I didn't feel anything. I still don't. No anger, no pain, no sympathy.

Just nothing.

It's over.

We're over.

There's no going back after this.