A Place to Call Home-Part XI
This isn't the last part of the fic, I added more than I had originally planned, probably because the thought of having 11 parts instead of 12 just didn't sit well with me. Me and even numbers, lol. I didn't edit the last part because I wasn't very satisfied with the way it was written so if it sucks that's why.
“You’re still the only one that feels like home.”
A year and a half later…..
Joey rolled over and reached out for Dawson, but she only grabbed a handful of sheets. She smiled and stretched her long limbs. She looked at the digital clock on the beside table. 3:11 AM. It wasn’t unnatural for her to awaken early in the morning to find him out of bed. It had been this way almost every night since she had moved in with him a few months earlier. She slid out of bed and as her feet hit the cold, hardwood floor she shivered. It was barely December and it was already frigid out. She pulled her robe over her flannel pajamas and buried her feet in the blue slippers Alex had gotten her last Christmas. She stifled a yawn and padded into his work study.
Video equipment littered the floor around her feet. When she had first moved in, his messy nature had driven her crazy. He had just left his equipment where he happened to set it down that day and she had tripped over them so many times she had lost count. She had managed to get him to start leaving them in the study and not all over the house. No matter how much she fussed at him about it, she was glad he was making movies again. He had returned to independent filmmaking and he was doing well. Winning little awards here and there. He didn’t make a lot of money, but he was happy.
His happiness only intensified her own. She still edited books from time to time, but she spent the majority of her time drawing. She worked at an art studio in Capeside, a long forgotten dream was now a reality. With Dawson’s gentle encouragement and faith, she had taken more art classes at the local college. Her skills had improved in no time and here she was, creating art for a living. She didn’t need to work, they were financially secure, but Dawson had understood and supported her need for independence.
Just as she suspected, he was at his computer, editing the scenes he had filmed today. She stood quietly surveying him. She never tired of watching him. His brow was furrowed in deep thought and concentration. His mouth was set in a firm line and his eyes were narrowed. His hair was disheveled and his face was unshaven. To any other woman he may have looked unappealing and overtired, but to her he was the most handsome man in the world. She smiled softly.
Dawson had sensed her presence as soon as she had entered the room, but he pretended like he couldn’t feel her there. Feel the heat that radiated from her body. He could feel her eyes slowly caress his body and the smile that filled her face as she quietly crept up behind him. He smiled as she slid her arms around his torso. “Morning beautiful.” He looked up at her and she pressed a kiss on his lips. A lingering kiss full of love and tenderness.
“You don’t look surprised to see me.”
“I knew you were there. I always know when you are near.”
She smiled and hugged him closer. “What are you doing?”
“This scene I filmed today just doesn’t look right. What do you think?”
He played the scene for her and she put on her critical face. “I think the camera is too present. It moves too much and too fast for the scene. It interrupts the reflection of the main character as he walks along the beach.”
“Amazing.” He smiled.
“What?”
“Those were my exact thoughts.”
She laughed, “Well, a long time ago I used to work with this up and coming filmmaker,” She lowered her voice suggestively. “I didn’t forget all he taught me.” She kissed the side of his neck.
He tried to ignore her seduction, “I shouldn’t have let Adam shoot that scene. I knew it would have been better if I had done it alone.”
She laughed, “I never thought I’d hear you say something like that.”
He chuckled, “He’s a regular Oliver clone.”
“No wonder he’s so hard to work with,” She grinned, “But don’t be so hard on him. You became friends with Oliver remember?”
“He drove me to insanity.”
“You seem sane to me.” She winked. “Give the boy a chance, he could learn a lot from a great filmmaker like yourself.”
“So it’s true then?”
“What?” She raised her eyebrows.
“That you’re my biggest fan.” He winked.
She smiled, “Yes I am.” She let him go and grabbed his hand, “Let’s go back to bed Dawson.” She said with a glint of desire in her eyes. He turned away from the computer and followed her into the bedroom. Being with her was always like the first time. Every touch felt new and full of sensation. Every kiss burned through them as their bodies and hearts melded into one another. Fusing their souls together in new ways every time. Their love was comfortable, but it was never old.
Home brings out internal struggle.
Joey stretched and yawned as she crawled out of bed. She looked at the clock, 10:10 AM. She had lingered in bed too long, she had to get things done today. She trudged into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. She let the hot liquid sit in her mouth a few seconds before letting it slid down her throat. She shivered, the house was unusually cold. She walked over to thermostat and saw it was set on 65. She turned it up as Spielberg, their white Pekingese puppy ran to up to her. She set her coffee cup down and bent over to pet him. His white, long fur was soft. He stood still as she pet him.
She hadn’t loved the idea of getting a dog, but somehow Dawson had convinced her they needed one. She had been determined to keep her distance from the dog, but over the past two months it had managed to worm its way into her affections. She would never tell Dawson how she felt about the dog, but he knew. He had known she’d fall in love with Spielberg and she had tried to prove him wrong. It was too hard when this dog was well behaved and affectionate. Besides it was a little dog, it wasn’t that hard to take care of. How on earth she let Dawson name it Spielberg she didn’t know. He had used his masculine charm on her and she had relented. They had agreed that if Spielberg destroyed any of her drawings they would find him a new home. The other day he had sniffed around her paints and made a mess, but she had quickly cleaned it up before Dawson found out. It was their little secret.
She walked into the living room with Spielberg on her heels. She plopped onto the cough and he sat her feet. He looked up at her with his dark pleading eyes and she picked him up and set him in the couch beside her. He curled into her side and went to sleep. It was a rare occasion for him to be invited onto the furniture. He never slept in their bed, he was confined to his doggy bed. She turned on the TV and watched Friends for the next half hour. She knew she should be cleaning up the house while Dawson was away, but she was feeling sluggish. Besides he wouldn’t be home until 6 o’clock at that evening.
The phone started to ring and she picked it up with a puzzled expression on her face. “Hello?” She said into the phone and was stunned at the voice she heard on the other end.
“Hey, is Dawson there?”
“Pacey…” She said flabbergasted.
“Jo?”
“What are you calling for?” She knew she sounded angry, but she didn’t care.
“To talk to Dawson.”
“About what?”
He paused for several minutes, “I think I better go.”
“Pacey, answer me.” She demanded.
“I think you should talk to Dawson first.” He said and hung up.
Joey held the phone in front of her and stared at it for a long time. Dawson hadn’t told her he had talked to Pacey. Why would he keep that from her? Or was she wrong? She shook her head in confusion, whatever it was she had to get some air. She got up and went into the bedroom. She blindly threw on jeans, a sweater, thick socks, and a heavy brown coat. She left the house numbly, trying to figure out what was going on.
She didn’t know where she was going until she ended up at the cemetery. She found her mother’s tombstone easily. It had been years since she had come here, it was always painful. She sad down on the frozen ground and traced her mother’s name. Lillian Elizabeth Potter. Tears filled her eyes, “Mom,” A flash of memory filled her head. Her mother’s smiling face peering down at her as she laid in her hospital bed. Pain sliced through her at that memory, but she pushed it away.
“Hi,” She said softly, “I know I haven’t been here in a while. A lot has changed.” She folded her gloved hands together in her lap. “I married Pacey and well that didn’t work out.” The cold wind blew around her, as if to reassure her. “You knew that though. You’re the one who told me to go back to Dawson.” She paused and bit her lip, “I’m glad I did. I love him more than I ever have. He really makes me happy,” She smiled. “We have our moments though. We fight, we laugh, we cry, we love. He makes me so angry sometimes I want to scream,” She chuckled, “But then he does something that makes me love him even more. Life isn’t perfect, but I’m happy mom.” She smiled, “I’m just afraid he’s keeping secrets from me now.” She looked down at her hands, “Pacey called today, he sounded like it was natural for him to do it. I decided not to get angry at Dawson as I would have in the past. I want to give him a chance to explain, but I just had to talk to someone.” She paused, “I wish you were still here. Bessie has been great, but I never stopped needing you.” Tears slid down her face as the cold swirled around her body.
Home can heal all wounds.
“Joey,” Dawson called as he entered the house. He heard Spielberg jump off the couch and run towards him. He bent over and patted Spielberg’s head, “Hey boy,” He greeted him pleasantly and walked into the living room. “Joey?” He called again and frowned. He looked at his watch, 11:08 AM. She should be home, he doubted she had been up long. She claimed to be a morning person, but he knew that on her days off she enjoyed lingering in bed just as much as he did. Well when they were both home there was a different reason for that….he grinned at the thought.
He walked into the bedroom and was surprised to find the bed unmade and closet door flung open. She had left in a hurry. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. Something was definitely going on. He frowned and rushed into the hall, picking up his keys on the way out the door. Something was wrong with her, he could feel it in his stomach. He started up his car and realized he didn’t know where to go.
He drove around town until he approached the graveyard. He shook his head as he got out of the car, why would she be here? She always avoided coming here. She didn’t want to face the pain it brought her. He walked past several faded tombstones, focusing on the sound of the gravel crunching beneath his feet. His heart began to race as he walked down the familiar walkway. He could feel her essence close by. As he approached her mother’s grave, his palms began to heat up.
He stopped when he say her crouched next to her mother’s tombstone, her head downcast. As if sensing his presence she turned her head and her eyes bore into his soul. He could see tearstains on her face and his heart ached. He wanted to run to her and hold her in his arms, but he couldn’t. She was obviously upset and he didn’t want to push her.
She walked over to him and he lightly cupped her face. As he ran the pads of his thumb over the dried tears she buried her nose in the center of his palm. He stopped his movements and closed his eyes as her cold skin pressed against his warm palm. “It’s freezing out here,” he said softly and pulled her next to him. He easily took his jacket off and placed it over her shoulders. She didn’t say anything, she looked up at him with wide eyes. He started to move and she easily followed him down the gravel walkway. Never breaking the silence.
He opened the car door for her and she climbed in. He walked to the other side and sat down. He looked at her, patiently waiting for her to speak. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She said quietly.
She didn’t have to tell him what she was talking about, he knew. “I didn’t know how it’d make you feel.”
“What is it a club?”
“What?”
“You and Pacey. Getting back at me for all I’ve done to the two of you….” She turned away from him. Her fear was standing between them and she knew it. Her fear that she would get to be with Dawson only to be hurt again. Hurt the way she hurt him so many times. His forgiveness was more than she deserved.
He reached out for her chin and turned her head so he could look into her eyes, “It isn’t about you, Jo.” He said gently and he leaned in to brush his lips over her jaw. “I love you.”
Tears filled her eyes, “Then what is it about?”
“Our broken friendship. I wanted to rebuild the friendship we once had.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know how you’d feel about me having him in my life. I know that you still feel a lot of guilt over--” he hesitated.
“Just say it, my failed marriage.” She said miserably.
“He doesn’t hate you.” He said simply.
“He doesn’t?”
“No, he’s happy, Jo. Really happy.” She raised her eyebrow, “He works at a new restaurant in Boston and manages the kitchen. He’s living with Andie.”
She stared at him in shock, “Andie?”
He nodded, “Jack never told us because he knows it’s a sore subject, but he’s happy for them.” He squeezed her hand, “I wanted us to be able to move away from the past and the pain where he was concerned. I had to right the wrongs.”
Hearing that she hadn’t totally destroyed Pacey’s life healed a part of her heart that had been bruised for so long. She smiled, “I love you Dawson.” It didn’t matter anymore that he had kept it from her, all that mattered was now she could be happy without feeling slightly guilty about it. She leaned in and kissed Dawson gently. Their souls brushed against one another. She had waited so long on the wings of time to be in this moment. A moment where her whole soul could be happy and it was. His love was healing.
“You’re still the only one that feels like home.”
A year and a half later…..
Joey rolled over and reached out for Dawson, but she only grabbed a handful of sheets. She smiled and stretched her long limbs. She looked at the digital clock on the beside table. 3:11 AM. It wasn’t unnatural for her to awaken early in the morning to find him out of bed. It had been this way almost every night since she had moved in with him a few months earlier. She slid out of bed and as her feet hit the cold, hardwood floor she shivered. It was barely December and it was already frigid out. She pulled her robe over her flannel pajamas and buried her feet in the blue slippers Alex had gotten her last Christmas. She stifled a yawn and padded into his work study.
Video equipment littered the floor around her feet. When she had first moved in, his messy nature had driven her crazy. He had just left his equipment where he happened to set it down that day and she had tripped over them so many times she had lost count. She had managed to get him to start leaving them in the study and not all over the house. No matter how much she fussed at him about it, she was glad he was making movies again. He had returned to independent filmmaking and he was doing well. Winning little awards here and there. He didn’t make a lot of money, but he was happy.
His happiness only intensified her own. She still edited books from time to time, but she spent the majority of her time drawing. She worked at an art studio in Capeside, a long forgotten dream was now a reality. With Dawson’s gentle encouragement and faith, she had taken more art classes at the local college. Her skills had improved in no time and here she was, creating art for a living. She didn’t need to work, they were financially secure, but Dawson had understood and supported her need for independence.
Just as she suspected, he was at his computer, editing the scenes he had filmed today. She stood quietly surveying him. She never tired of watching him. His brow was furrowed in deep thought and concentration. His mouth was set in a firm line and his eyes were narrowed. His hair was disheveled and his face was unshaven. To any other woman he may have looked unappealing and overtired, but to her he was the most handsome man in the world. She smiled softly.
Dawson had sensed her presence as soon as she had entered the room, but he pretended like he couldn’t feel her there. Feel the heat that radiated from her body. He could feel her eyes slowly caress his body and the smile that filled her face as she quietly crept up behind him. He smiled as she slid her arms around his torso. “Morning beautiful.” He looked up at her and she pressed a kiss on his lips. A lingering kiss full of love and tenderness.
“You don’t look surprised to see me.”
“I knew you were there. I always know when you are near.”
She smiled and hugged him closer. “What are you doing?”
“This scene I filmed today just doesn’t look right. What do you think?”
He played the scene for her and she put on her critical face. “I think the camera is too present. It moves too much and too fast for the scene. It interrupts the reflection of the main character as he walks along the beach.”
“Amazing.” He smiled.
“What?”
“Those were my exact thoughts.”
She laughed, “Well, a long time ago I used to work with this up and coming filmmaker,” She lowered her voice suggestively. “I didn’t forget all he taught me.” She kissed the side of his neck.
He tried to ignore her seduction, “I shouldn’t have let Adam shoot that scene. I knew it would have been better if I had done it alone.”
She laughed, “I never thought I’d hear you say something like that.”
He chuckled, “He’s a regular Oliver clone.”
“No wonder he’s so hard to work with,” She grinned, “But don’t be so hard on him. You became friends with Oliver remember?”
“He drove me to insanity.”
“You seem sane to me.” She winked. “Give the boy a chance, he could learn a lot from a great filmmaker like yourself.”
“So it’s true then?”
“What?” She raised her eyebrows.
“That you’re my biggest fan.” He winked.
She smiled, “Yes I am.” She let him go and grabbed his hand, “Let’s go back to bed Dawson.” She said with a glint of desire in her eyes. He turned away from the computer and followed her into the bedroom. Being with her was always like the first time. Every touch felt new and full of sensation. Every kiss burned through them as their bodies and hearts melded into one another. Fusing their souls together in new ways every time. Their love was comfortable, but it was never old.
Home brings out internal struggle.
Joey stretched and yawned as she crawled out of bed. She looked at the clock, 10:10 AM. She had lingered in bed too long, she had to get things done today. She trudged into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. She let the hot liquid sit in her mouth a few seconds before letting it slid down her throat. She shivered, the house was unusually cold. She walked over to thermostat and saw it was set on 65. She turned it up as Spielberg, their white Pekingese puppy ran to up to her. She set her coffee cup down and bent over to pet him. His white, long fur was soft. He stood still as she pet him.
She hadn’t loved the idea of getting a dog, but somehow Dawson had convinced her they needed one. She had been determined to keep her distance from the dog, but over the past two months it had managed to worm its way into her affections. She would never tell Dawson how she felt about the dog, but he knew. He had known she’d fall in love with Spielberg and she had tried to prove him wrong. It was too hard when this dog was well behaved and affectionate. Besides it was a little dog, it wasn’t that hard to take care of. How on earth she let Dawson name it Spielberg she didn’t know. He had used his masculine charm on her and she had relented. They had agreed that if Spielberg destroyed any of her drawings they would find him a new home. The other day he had sniffed around her paints and made a mess, but she had quickly cleaned it up before Dawson found out. It was their little secret.
She walked into the living room with Spielberg on her heels. She plopped onto the cough and he sat her feet. He looked up at her with his dark pleading eyes and she picked him up and set him in the couch beside her. He curled into her side and went to sleep. It was a rare occasion for him to be invited onto the furniture. He never slept in their bed, he was confined to his doggy bed. She turned on the TV and watched Friends for the next half hour. She knew she should be cleaning up the house while Dawson was away, but she was feeling sluggish. Besides he wouldn’t be home until 6 o’clock at that evening.
The phone started to ring and she picked it up with a puzzled expression on her face. “Hello?” She said into the phone and was stunned at the voice she heard on the other end.
“Hey, is Dawson there?”
“Pacey…” She said flabbergasted.
“Jo?”
“What are you calling for?” She knew she sounded angry, but she didn’t care.
“To talk to Dawson.”
“About what?”
He paused for several minutes, “I think I better go.”
“Pacey, answer me.” She demanded.
“I think you should talk to Dawson first.” He said and hung up.
Joey held the phone in front of her and stared at it for a long time. Dawson hadn’t told her he had talked to Pacey. Why would he keep that from her? Or was she wrong? She shook her head in confusion, whatever it was she had to get some air. She got up and went into the bedroom. She blindly threw on jeans, a sweater, thick socks, and a heavy brown coat. She left the house numbly, trying to figure out what was going on.
She didn’t know where she was going until she ended up at the cemetery. She found her mother’s tombstone easily. It had been years since she had come here, it was always painful. She sad down on the frozen ground and traced her mother’s name. Lillian Elizabeth Potter. Tears filled her eyes, “Mom,” A flash of memory filled her head. Her mother’s smiling face peering down at her as she laid in her hospital bed. Pain sliced through her at that memory, but she pushed it away.
“Hi,” She said softly, “I know I haven’t been here in a while. A lot has changed.” She folded her gloved hands together in her lap. “I married Pacey and well that didn’t work out.” The cold wind blew around her, as if to reassure her. “You knew that though. You’re the one who told me to go back to Dawson.” She paused and bit her lip, “I’m glad I did. I love him more than I ever have. He really makes me happy,” She smiled. “We have our moments though. We fight, we laugh, we cry, we love. He makes me so angry sometimes I want to scream,” She chuckled, “But then he does something that makes me love him even more. Life isn’t perfect, but I’m happy mom.” She smiled, “I’m just afraid he’s keeping secrets from me now.” She looked down at her hands, “Pacey called today, he sounded like it was natural for him to do it. I decided not to get angry at Dawson as I would have in the past. I want to give him a chance to explain, but I just had to talk to someone.” She paused, “I wish you were still here. Bessie has been great, but I never stopped needing you.” Tears slid down her face as the cold swirled around her body.
Home can heal all wounds.
“Joey,” Dawson called as he entered the house. He heard Spielberg jump off the couch and run towards him. He bent over and patted Spielberg’s head, “Hey boy,” He greeted him pleasantly and walked into the living room. “Joey?” He called again and frowned. He looked at his watch, 11:08 AM. She should be home, he doubted she had been up long. She claimed to be a morning person, but he knew that on her days off she enjoyed lingering in bed just as much as he did. Well when they were both home there was a different reason for that….he grinned at the thought.
He walked into the bedroom and was surprised to find the bed unmade and closet door flung open. She had left in a hurry. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. Something was definitely going on. He frowned and rushed into the hall, picking up his keys on the way out the door. Something was wrong with her, he could feel it in his stomach. He started up his car and realized he didn’t know where to go.
He drove around town until he approached the graveyard. He shook his head as he got out of the car, why would she be here? She always avoided coming here. She didn’t want to face the pain it brought her. He walked past several faded tombstones, focusing on the sound of the gravel crunching beneath his feet. His heart began to race as he walked down the familiar walkway. He could feel her essence close by. As he approached her mother’s grave, his palms began to heat up.
He stopped when he say her crouched next to her mother’s tombstone, her head downcast. As if sensing his presence she turned her head and her eyes bore into his soul. He could see tearstains on her face and his heart ached. He wanted to run to her and hold her in his arms, but he couldn’t. She was obviously upset and he didn’t want to push her.
She walked over to him and he lightly cupped her face. As he ran the pads of his thumb over the dried tears she buried her nose in the center of his palm. He stopped his movements and closed his eyes as her cold skin pressed against his warm palm. “It’s freezing out here,” he said softly and pulled her next to him. He easily took his jacket off and placed it over her shoulders. She didn’t say anything, she looked up at him with wide eyes. He started to move and she easily followed him down the gravel walkway. Never breaking the silence.
He opened the car door for her and she climbed in. He walked to the other side and sat down. He looked at her, patiently waiting for her to speak. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She said quietly.
She didn’t have to tell him what she was talking about, he knew. “I didn’t know how it’d make you feel.”
“What is it a club?”
“What?”
“You and Pacey. Getting back at me for all I’ve done to the two of you….” She turned away from him. Her fear was standing between them and she knew it. Her fear that she would get to be with Dawson only to be hurt again. Hurt the way she hurt him so many times. His forgiveness was more than she deserved.
He reached out for her chin and turned her head so he could look into her eyes, “It isn’t about you, Jo.” He said gently and he leaned in to brush his lips over her jaw. “I love you.”
Tears filled her eyes, “Then what is it about?”
“Our broken friendship. I wanted to rebuild the friendship we once had.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know how you’d feel about me having him in my life. I know that you still feel a lot of guilt over--” he hesitated.
“Just say it, my failed marriage.” She said miserably.
“He doesn’t hate you.” He said simply.
“He doesn’t?”
“No, he’s happy, Jo. Really happy.” She raised her eyebrow, “He works at a new restaurant in Boston and manages the kitchen. He’s living with Andie.”
She stared at him in shock, “Andie?”
He nodded, “Jack never told us because he knows it’s a sore subject, but he’s happy for them.” He squeezed her hand, “I wanted us to be able to move away from the past and the pain where he was concerned. I had to right the wrongs.”
Hearing that she hadn’t totally destroyed Pacey’s life healed a part of her heart that had been bruised for so long. She smiled, “I love you Dawson.” It didn’t matter anymore that he had kept it from her, all that mattered was now she could be happy without feeling slightly guilty about it. She leaned in and kissed Dawson gently. Their souls brushed against one another. She had waited so long on the wings of time to be in this moment. A moment where her whole soul could be happy and it was. His love was healing.