Classification: Dawson/Pacey friendship; Abby/Jen friendship; Joey/Jack ...?

Spoilers / References: None, really. This takes place immediately following the second episode of the second season ("Crossroads"). Dawson & Pacey are leaving to go on a road trip to Maine, while Abby and Jen have a sleepover, and Joey and Jack go in to work early.

This is something a little different for me, there's no Dawson/Joey romance here (well, okay, maybe a little ...). Instead, it focuses on a night of male bonding between Dawson and Pacey during their road trip to Maine after Pacey's birthday party in the Crossroads episode. There's also some bonding of a female kind going on between Abby and Jen at a sleepover, not to mention the very beginnings of something between Joey and Jack ...

Title Reference: A play on the 1967 drama "Far From The Madding Crowd," starring Julie Christie and Terence Stamp, where one person's independent and willful behaviour leads to unexpected results in other peoples' lives.

Pacey: (loudly) Hey! Quit shaking the ladder! I'm gonna fall!

Dawson: (sticking his head out the window) Shhhh! Pacey, be quiet! If we wake my parents up, we can kiss Maine goodbye.

Pacey: Sorry, sorry. (Dawson helps him through the window into the room) Wait, aren't they too busy re-enacting the raunchier parts of the Kama Sutra to even hear us, though?

Dawson: Uh, not likely. Not lately. (there is an uncomfotable silence for a second, as Pacey smiles awkwardly and apologetically) Look, I'll be right back, okay? I've gotta go find me a certain set of automobile keys.

He exits, and Pacey sits down on Dawson's bed. After a moment, he gets up and looks around, snooping a bit. He picks up a couple of photos on Dawson's desk, studies them and puts them down, flips through a magazine, then gets up and walks over to Dawson's film library, where he scans titles at random.

Pacey: Jurassic Park ... Jaws ... Saving Private Ryan -- Hey, wait ... how'd he get that? That isn't even out on video yet ... The Color Purple ... Amistad ... Jeez, Dawson, do you like Spielberg much? ... Schindler's List ... Hook ... Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory? (he snickers) ... Oh God, that's just too funny ...

He goes back over and sits on the bed, drumming his hands on his thighs to an imaginary beat and nodding his head along. He spots the infamous E.T. doll on Dawson's bedside table and picks it up, holding it in front of his face and making its arms move with his hands.

Pacey: (in the same voice as E.T.) E.T. phone home ... E.T. phone home ... (in a normal voice) ... well, that's one thing we definitely won't be doing tonight, cause Gale and Mitch would probably kill D if they found out where we were calling from ... (back to the E.T. voice) ... E.T. phone home ...

Simultaneously, Dawson enters and stops, looking at Pacey in a strange manner.

Dawson: Um ... what are you doing?

Pacey jumps a little, embarrassed at being caught like this.

Pacey: Dawson! Uh, nothing, man. Nothing. Just, uh, playing with your doll here. (He forces a laugh as he puts the doll back where he found it, and pats it a couple of times)

Dawson: (a little defensively) It isn't a doll, Pacey.

Pacey: I know, I know. It's a collector's item (he rolls his eyes) ... so, you score the keys?

Grinning, Dawson hold up a key ring with two car keys on it.

Pacey: Woo-hoo! (claps his hands) Gentlemen, start your engines!

Dawson: Yeah, just be sure not to flood it. You can drive standard, can't you?

Pacey: Uh, sure. (Dawson raises his eyebrows) I mean, how hard can it be? (he shrugs)

Dawson: I have an ominous feeling we're about to find out.

Pacey: (stands up and snatches the keys out of Dawson's hand) Relax, we'll be fine ... trust me!

Dawson: Famous last words. (he sighs)

Pacey walks to the window and is about to climb out when he realizes Dawson isn't behind him. He walks back over to the desk, which Dawson is leaning against, looking worried.

Pacey: Will you just chill? Jeez, Dawson, sometimes you get so wound up about the most ridiculous, inconsequential ... things. (his eyes settle on the E.T. doll as he finishes the sentence)

Dawson: (following Pacey's gaze) It is a collector's item, Pacey.

Pacey: (ushers him towards the window, patting him on the back) Sure it is, pal. Whatever you say.

Dawson: (laughing) Pacey, will you just start the car already? We've been sitting here for ten minutes while you warm up like some Formula One driver.

Pacey: I'm just getting ... comfortable.

Dawson: Right ... (suspiciously) ... are you sure you're okay?

Pacey: Yeah. It's just ... I'm ... I'm, uh ... a little nervous. (quickly) But not a lot. It's cool. I'm fine. (he laughs nervously)

Dawson: (slowly) Why ... are ... you ... nervous?

Pacey: Well, it's like ... (he exhales) See, the only cars I've ever driven before have belonged to my family.

Dawson: Oh. So?

Pacey: So ... if I bang 'em up a little or put a few dents in them while taking them out for a spin, it isn't really that big of a big deal, you know? Cause first of all, they're already falling apart to begin with, and second of all, they're only the property of my dad and my brother, neither of whom I have any respect for to begin with. But this is my best friend's father's brand spanking new sport-ute ... not to mention the fact that I'm not completely acquainted with the mechanics of driving a standard transmission, and that your father is a rather large man who could probably give Schwarzenegger a run for his money ... but hey! No worries. I'll be fine, really ... I just need a minute or two to get used to this clutch and gear shifting stuff. (he smiles) This is going to be so sweet.

Dawson winces and smiles back weakly, but remains silent.

The car lunges backwards then stops suddenly about three feet down the driveway. There is a grinding noise, then the car jolts backwards another few feet. Pacey jams on the brakes hard, causing him and Dawson to both lurch forward violently in their seats. He laughs nervously, then the car zooms backwards again at high speed. At the end of the driveway, he brakes suddenly again. Another loud grinding noise ensues as Pacey shifts gears and the car speeds off down the street, tires squealing.

Dawson: (muttering under his breath) Oh yeah. No worries. No worries whatsoever.

Pulling out a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, pajamas, some underwear and socks out of a couple of dresser drawers, she fills up the backpack. Next, Jen heads over to her desk, where she adds a brush and small make-up bag to the backpack. Her eyes fall on a small, oval-shaped brass picture frame, containing a picture of her and Dawson taken earlier in the year. Her face contorts as if she's trying not to cry when she sees the picture. She reaches out and picks it up, studying it for a moment, then puts it face down on the desk as a tear rolls down her cheek.

Pacey: See, I told you I'd get the hang of it. Granted, I may have stripped the gears just a teensy bit, but everything's just fine now. I'm a regular Jacques Villeneuve. (he smiles)

Dawson: (sarcastically) So, Jacques ... which way to Maine?

Pacey: Uh ... don't know, exactly. North, maybe? Actually, I think it's east. (thinks a moment, then nods) Yeah, it's definitely east.

Dawson: It can't be east, Pacey. There's nothing east except the Atlantic Ocean.

Pacey: Oh. Well, don't ask me ... geography wasn't exactly one of my strongest subjects last year.

Dawson: Oh, this is great. (sighs) Okay ... Boston is about, what? Sixty miles? Head there, and we'll buy a map.

Pacey: (sarcastically) Yes, Miss Daisy.

Jen: (softly) I'm ready.

Abby: Then let's go. (she stands up and they walk across the driveway, away from the creek, and towards the street)

Dawson: So tell me something ... who was that girl you were vainly attempting to seduce tonight at the pier party?

Pacey: (sighs hopelessly) Which one?

Dawson: Um ... shoulder-length blonde hair ... orange bikini top ... not very tall?

Pacey: (rolling his eyes) Oh ... her. McPhee. (snorts) Trust me Dawson, I was not trying to seduce her ... more like trying to muzzle her.

Dawson: Her name is McPhee? That's a little ... uh ... peculiar.

Pacey: No. Her name is Andie. Probably short for Andria or something. McPhee's her last name. But you are definitely right about the girl being peculiar, that's for sure. (he chuckles) Man, what is it with girls who abbreviate their names to sound like guys?

Dawson: What do you mean?

Pacey: I mean like ... Andie ... Joey ... it's like this whole macho thing rubs off on them and they cop this wickedly obnoxious attitude.

Dawson: (grins) Works for me.

Pacey: (glances at him, one eyebrow raised) Yeah, I'll bet. (he grins back) So, uh, what's the deal with you two, anyway? I thought by now you'd both have spontaneously combusted in the face of a decade and a half's worth of unleashed molten sexual energy.

Dawson: Oh Pacey, grow up! (flustered) Joey and I ... we're just ... we're ... taking it slow, that's all.

Pacey: Slow? Dude, a snail stuck in molasses moves faster than you do. How much slower can you go? I mean, look at how long it took you to just kiss her ... at this rate, you two are gonna celebrate your silver wedding anniversary before you --

Dawson: (embarrassed) O-kay! Thank you very much! You can stop right there.

Pacey: (mock innocence) What? I'm sure Joey can't wait to be called Mrs. Man Meat Junior, and I'm equally sure that, given the opportunity, she'll be as happy to test-drive your living room coffee table with you as your mom is with your dad.

Dawson: (sharply) Don't say that. Just ... leave my parents out of it.

Pacey: (apologetically) Okay, fine. But I'm just saying --

Dawson: I know what you're just saying. And here's what I'm just saying. (Pacey looks over, interested, as Dawson looks him right in the eye) Drive. (Dawson stares straight ahead, embarrassed, while Pacey rolls his eyes and shifts his attention back to the road)

Jen: Thanks again for letting me crash here ... I really didn't want to go home and face my grandmother, given the state I was in earlier.

Abby: (overly-sweet) Well, that's what friends are for ... right? (she shrugs)

Jen: Friends ... huh. (she smiles sadly) There's a word I haven't heard too much lately.

Abby: Well, no wonder. Look at who you've been hanging around ... Archie, Betty and Jughead. The three of them have this twisted little relationship that doesn't exactly lend itself well to newcomers, not that anyone in their right mind would want to crash their coterie of geekdom anyway.

Jen: (laughing a little) What are you talking about?

Abby: Well, for starters, they've been joined together like Siamese triplets since kindergarten. Only Joey's always been the most ... butch ... of the three, if you know what I mean. (snorts) Which isn't really such a stretch, all things considered. It's not like Dawson and Pacey exactly ooze testosterone. God, if it weren't so painfully obvious that they're all virgins, I'd swear there was some weird role-reversal menage-a-trois thing going on there.

Jen: (feebly) They're nice people, Abby, honestly.

Abby: Oh, please. Nice is boring. It won't get you anywhere. And if they're so nice, then where have they been during your recent hour of need with your grandfather? (Jen makes a face as if to protest, but remains silent) Nowhere, that's where. (pause) I thought you were a big city girl, Jen. Don't tell me those three freaks have brainwashed you into joining their little cult of social deviants. I thought you were above that.

Jen: (lamely) I just ... it just ... (she sighs) they accepted me, you know? Even Joey was starting to come around. I finally was beginning to feel like I fit in around here ... like I had made some real friends.

Abby: (condescendingly) Jennifer. Let's take a little inventory of your "friends," shall we? Dawson and Joey have plunged head-first into discovering the joys of pseudo-incest, and as for Pacey, his position as the official village idiot of Capeside has never been in contention. Joey makes up stories about being pregnant, Pacey makes up stories about sleeping with his English teacher, and Dawson ... well, he's so deluded he lives in a made-up fantasy world most of the time, anyway. They're losers, Jen, plain and simple. (pause) Look, your little excursion into the dark side was excusable. You were new in town ... you didn't know any better. But now, your eyes have been opened. You're much better off without Beavis, Butthead and Little Orphan Annie. You don't need them. You've got me. (she smiles, and after a moment, Jen smiles back)

Pacey: And get this! She drives a Saab convertible! The girl's a sophormore and she drives a Saab convertible! There is simply no justice in this world.

Dawson laughs as they enter the store. He heads over to the magazines and guide books shelves, Pacey in tow.

Dawson: Let's see ... Rhode Island ... Connecticut ... A-ha! Maine. (he pulls the guide book out and turns to Pacey, who has picked up a copy of Playboy off the top shelf and is leafing through it) Pacey! Say goodbye to Miss March and let's go.

Dawson throws the guide book at Pacey, who catches it. They walk up to the cash register, where a greasy-looking twentysomething guy is reading a book. He puts it down as they approach. Pacey tosses the guide book on the counter.

Clerk: (monotonously) Will that be everything?

Pacey: Yeah ... no, wait. Hang on a sec.

He disappears into the back of the store for a minute. Dawson shrugs at the clerk, who has gone back to reading his book. Pacey returns a minute later with two SuperSize Slurpees, which he places on the counter triumphantly.

Dawson: (eyeing them suspiciously as the clerk rings up the items) Um, what are those?

Pacey: Coke Slurpees. Otherwise known as rocket fuel for all-night voyages.

Clerk: That'll be nine dollars and thirty-two cents.

Dawson: (hands the clerk a ten dollar bill and receives change) Thanks.

Dawson and Pacey leave, holding their Slurpees, Dawson carrying the guide book. As soon as they reach the car in the parking lot, Pacey gets a panicked look on his face and frowns slightly.

Pacey: Um ... Dawson?

Dawson: Yeah?

Pacey: Um ... do you have the keys?

Dawson: Why would I have the keys? You're driving.

Pacey: (he smiles uneasily) Right, right. Heh-heh.

Dawson: Oh no ... please, please tell me you didn't lose the keys! Pacey, how could you lose the keys? They've got to be in the store. You probably put them down when you picked that porno magazine up. (he turns around and heads back towards the entrance)

Pacey: Whoa! D, wait! I didn't lose them. I know exactly where they are.

Dawson: (heads back towards the vehicle) Good. (pause) Where are they?

Pacey: (calmly) In the ignition.

Dawson: And I suppose all the doors are locked?

Pacey: (smiles weakly) Heh-heh ... Funny you should say that --

Dawson: (interrupting) Aww no, no ... Pacey!

Pacey: Hey, gimme a break! I'm not used to having actual keys, I'm used to hotwiring the ignition! (pause) Can't you call AAA or something?

Dawson: Oh yeah, that's all I need ... if AAA shows up this little incident will find its way back to my dad in no time. (he sighs, thudding his head against the passenger door) This is not happening.

Abby: Out of all the guys you've been involved with, who was the best?

Jen: The best what? Best kisser? Best boyfriend? (she giggles, obviously more relaxed now) Best between the sheets?

Abby: Best ... everything. The overall best. The one you remember the most vividly, the one who really got under your skin. (she giggles)

Jen: (her smile fades) I guess ... well ... truthfully? (Abby nods, wide-eyed) Well ... (she sighs) ... I guess I'd have to say ... Dawson Leery.

Abby: (makes a face and groans in disgust) Ugh ... God, I just don't get that. (pause) It's like going to Baskin-Robbins and ordering a single scoop of vanilla on a plain cone. I mean, why even bother? Why waste the calories on something that ... boring ... when there are so many other flavours to choose from? (smugly) I should know. I've sampled most of them.

Jen: (sighs) I guess I'm just a little tired of being in the flavour of the month club, Abby.

Abby: (shrugs) Suit yourself. If you want to commit social suicide by dating the dork king of Capeside High, then be my guest. But trust me, vanilla ice-cream rapidly loses its flavour after a couple of ... licks. (wrinkes her nose) If it even had any flavour to begin with, which I highly doubt.

Jen: (sadly) Maybe it doesn't have much flavour, but maybe that's what I like about it. Maybe I'm tired of taste-testing. Maybe I've finally decided on what I want.

Abby: Whatever. If you want to settle for the most generic item on the menu, knock yourself out. Just don't come crying to me when your taste buds die of boredom and you get a craving for something more ... erotic.

Jen: You mean exotic.

Abby:(purrs) That too.

Pacey: I still think this is the longer route. We could have shaved off tons of time if we'd just taken the I-95 bypass back at that turnpike --

Dawson: No, we could have shaved off tons of time if you hadn't locked the keys in the car.

Pacey: Hey, I got them out! Let's just drop it already, yeah?

Dawson: You got them out? I beg to differ, my friend. I'm the one who had to pay that extortionist at the 7-11 ten bucks for a lousy coat hanger!

Pacey: Well it was the only one he had, and he did need it to hang up his coat.

Dawson: (spluttering) Whose side are you on here? Pacey, that con artist's or mine?

Pacey: Well ... still. I'm the one who slid the coat hanger in the door and jimmied the lock.

Dawson: Oh yeah, you're a regular MacGyver. A real boy scout. Little old ladies just line up by the hundreds for you to escort them across the street.

Pacey: Actually, I prefer to think of myself as more of a James Bond type. Dashing ... daring ... relying solely on my wits and wit to get me through life.

Dawson: (looks over at him) You know, I could realy say something right about here, but it's just way too obvious.

Abby: I cannot believe you've got the hots for Capeside's own Gomer Pyle. I mean, really, Jen ... what's the big attraction?

Jen: (sigh) I don't know. It's ... (exasperated) haven't you ever been in love, Abby?

Abby: Are you kidding? Hardly. Have you seen what passes for members of the male species in this pathetic little town? (Jen smiles in acknowledgment) Capeside boys are good for one thing, and one thing only, and they're barely even adequate at that. They're target practice. Cannon fodder. (smiles) See, Jen, they're just something to fill the pages of my diary ... something to occupy the void until I can finally make a jail break from good ol' Sleepy Hollow here. (pause) The way I see it, all guys are out to use you anyway. Might as well beat them at their own game.

Jen: Abby! That's a terrible thing to say, even for you. Don't you believe in --

Abby: (snorts) Romance? Love? Keep this up, Jen, and I'm going to have to start calling you Pollyanna. It's a scientific fact that human beings aren't meant to mate for life. It goes against some intrinsic genetic code, or something. So who am I to defy nature? (Jen looks at her sadly) Oh come on, Jen! Don't tell me you actually believe in that whole one guy, one girl, holding hands til the end of time crap?

Jen: (softly) Yeah, I do.

Abby: (derisively) And you actually think Dork-son is that guy? The one? (Jen gives her a flustered, almost embarrassed look, then looks away without saying a word) God help us all ... you do. (disbelieving) You're serious, aren't you? (Jen hesitates, then smiles sadly and nods) Wow ... I just chalked it up to alcoholic-induced desparation earlier on, but you really mean it don't you? You actually want Dawson Leery?

Jen: Yeah ... I do.

Abby: (disgusted) Why?

Jen: Why? (sighs) I don't know ... he's sweet and creative and thoughtful and, he's ... he's probably the most decent person I know, Abby. (she looks away) And I ... I ... love him.

Abby: Well, like they say ... (she sighs, then continues in a disgusted tone) love is blind. (sarcastically) And in this case, deaf and dumb, too. (Jen looks back over at Abby, a little hurt)

Dawson: Hey, we made it!

Pacey: Cool! (they look around at the scenery whizzing by as they drive along, which is mostly just blackness because of the time of night) Uh ... now what?

Dawson: I have absolutely no idea. (they laugh)

Pacey: What's there to do in Maine at three-thirty on a Sunday morning?

Dawson: You got me. (they sit silently as they drive along, the engine humming away quietly) So now what?

Pacey: (he shrugs, looks around, then thinks a minute) Wanna go home?

Abby: Pretzels, cup-o-soup ... cereal? (she looks over at Jen, who wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. Abby sighs and moves on to the fridge) O-kay ... grapes? No, too healthy ... leftover Chinese take-out? (she picks up a container and sniffs it) Ugh, pass. (she slams the fridge door and opens the freezer) Hmm ... bagels ... chicken fingers ... ice cream ... ice cream! Oooh, Jen, I know! Sundaes!

Jen: At ten-to-four in the morning? I was kinda thinking more along the lines of toast --

Abby: (ignoring her) Sundaes it is. Come on Jen, live a little. You've had a rough night. If you can't indulge in pleasures of the flesh, you might as well indulge in pleasures of the palate ... although one might argue they could be the same thing in certain cases ...

Jen: (laughing) Abby! Shhhh! What if your parents hear you?

Abby: (she shrugs) What parents? (nonchalantly) Please. My father has been persona non grata round these parts for years, and my mother's spending the night at her boyfriend's. Again.

Jen: (embarrassed) Oh. I, uh, sorry ...

Abby: (takes out the tub of ice cream, then opens the fridge to remove a can of instant whipped cream and a half-empty jar of candied cherries) For what? (cynically) It worked out to my advantage. (Moving to the cupboard, she removes a bottle of chocolate syrup, then pulls two spoons from a drawer) Thousands of dollars and several years spent on therapy have produced a infinite number of alleged psychological "problems" that come in very handy when I need a realistic-sounding excuse for my wanton ways or reckless behaviour. (Finished amassing her supplies, Abby sets the collection down on the table)

Jen: Um ... where are the bowls?

Abby: Don't need 'em. This is a sundae for the modern '90s girl who doesn't do dishes. (sitting down, she takes the lid off the ice cream tub, then squirts chocolate syrup into it. She dumps the jar of candied cherries in, then shakes the whipped cream and squirts that in, too. Jen, meanwhile, is watching in disgust. Abby picks up a spoon, samples her creation and smiles, eyes closed) Mmm ... (she opens her eyes to find Jen gawking at her with a strange look on her face) What? Aren't you going to try some?

Jen: I, uh ... yeah. Yeah. I've just never quite seen a sundae made like that before. And I don't like cherries.

Abby: (shrugs, picks up the other spoon, scoops it into the tub and offers it to Jen) Come on, Jen ... I'm sure you've put worse-looking things in your mouth.

Jen: (flushes with embarrassment, but takes the spoon from Abby and eats the concoction. Her face breaks into a surprised smile) Hey, that's not too bad!

Abby: (patronizingly) Told you so.

Jen: (reaches in for another spoonful) Mmm ... (smacks her lips) Mmm .. what kind of ice cream is that, anyway?

Abby: (smiling triumphantly) Jamocha Triple Chocolate Chunk. (pause) Like I said before Jen, there's a lot more to life than just vanilla. (she licks her spoon provocatively as Jen gives her a small smile and digs her spoon in again)

Pacey: (turning towards Dawson, his back to the driver's side window) No hat, no glove? Ohhh, man! How did you keep a straight face? (he laughs)

Dawson: (facing him and laughing) Me? No, you should have seen Joey's face! It was just ... (his laughter trails off) ... uh-oh.

Pacey: What-oh?

Dawson: Okay ... don't turn around. Don't panic. But a police car just pulled up right beside you, and the officer's checking us out.

Pacey: Well is she hot, at least?

Dawson: It's a guy, Pacey. And somehow, I get the feeling his interest in us is not at all hormonally-driven.

Pacey: Oh perfect. This is just beautiful. (snorts) Apparently, the long arm of the law's stranglehold on me reaches all the way across the Eastern seaboard. Man ... this far away from Capeside, and I still can't seem to ditch the police presence in my life! You know, I bet my father and Doug probably have something to do with this, mark my words ... (sighs)

A moment later, the traffic light changes to green. He slowly pulls away. Instantly, the police car's flashing lights come on, indicating for Pacey to pull over.

Dawson: (swallowing hard) Oh God ... suddenly, my whole life is flashing before me ...

Pacey: D, relax ... okay? You forget, thanks to daddy dearest and big bro, I virtually make a career out of thwarting America's finest boys in blue. We'll be fine. (he pulls over)

Dawson: Fine? Pacey, we're out for a joy ride in a car that's technically stolen, without any licences or insurance, about 150 miles and two whole states away from home --

Pacey: Dawson! Turn down the neuroticism a notch, all right? Just leave it to me. I'll finesse him, you know -- (he wiggles his eyebrows) dazzle him with the ole Witter charm. We'll be fine. Safe as kittens.

Dawson: (muttering) I'm not at all feeling the surge of confidence you might have anticipated with that statement, Pacey.

A flashlight suddenly shines through the driver's window, which Pacey rolls down.

Pacey: (smiling broadly) Good evening, officer! And how are you on this fine, fine night? (Dawson rolls his eyes)

Officer: (peering into the car, looking down his nose at them. He is middle-aged and heavy-set) Oh ... just fine, son. Just fine. (pause) You boys know you have a soft flat?

Dawson: Um ... excuse me?

Officer: Your rear driver's side tire. It's leaking air. Going flat.

Pacey: Oh! Uh ... no! No, officer, we weren't aware of that.

Officer: You boys headed on to the Interstate?

Dawson: Um, yes sir.

Officer: Well, I suggest you put some air in your tire before doing so. Otherwise, you could get into an accident.

Pacey: An excellent suggestion, sir, and duly noted. (he forces a little laugh)

The officer stares at him a moment, as if deciding whether or not to question them about why they are out at this hour. Before he can open his mouth, his walkie-talkie goes off.

Dispatcher: One-niner-seven-two, come in, one-niner-seven-two. We have a domestic in progress at one-one-six McLaughlin Road. Do you copy? Over.

Officer: (speaking into the walkie-talkie) This is one-niner-seven-two. Affirmative, responding to domestic in progress at one-one-six McLaughlin Road. Over. (he bends back down to the car window and studies Dawson and Pacey for a long moment, who smile at him anxiously) You boys drive safely now, you hear?

Pacey: (brightly) Yes, sir! And good luck with that domestic! (Dawson stares at him in disbelief, as the officer retreats back to his police car)

Dawson: 'Good luck wih that domestic?' What the hell was that?

Pacey: What was I supposed to say, 'Thank you for ignoring your gut instinct and not asking us for a licence and registration, which would have ensured a night in jail for us both, not to mention grounding 'til our mid-thirties?' Besides, Dawson, we have bigger problems than the etiquette of police officer gratitude.

Dawson: Like what?

Pacey: Well ... do you know how to put air in a car tire?

Dawson: Not exactly. You?

Pacey: Nah ... but it's probably just like a bike. I mean, how hard can it be?

Dawson: (snorts) Last time you said that, you practically stripped the car's gears bare.

Pacey: Hey! I resent that! I thought I learnt pretty quickly. (pause) Look at the bright side of this, D.

Dawson: And what, pray tell, is that?

Pacey: (grinning) At least we found something to do in Maine at three-thirty on a Sunday morning. (they both start laughing)

Abby: So ... (she smiles wickedly) Dawson Leery.

Jen: (rolls over to face her) Okay, Abby, you've made it perfectly clear how you feel about the situation. (sighs) Now just drop it, will you?

Abby: Drop it? Oh, no, no, no. I think not. I'm just getting started.

Jen: (irritated) Go sharpen your claws somewhere else. It's late. I'm tired. (she turns away from her again)

Abby: (mock-innocently) Jen, give me some credit, will you? Look, if you're so hell-bent on lusting after Leery, far be it for me to stand in your way. In fact, I should be the least of your concerns.

Jen rolls over to face Abby again.

Jen: (confused) What?

Abby: (condescendingly) Well, think about it. All night long, you've been trying to convince me that you and Dawson belong together. But you've been expending all this effort and energy on the wrong person. (pause) Fine, I believe you. I don't profess to understand your logic, reasoning or mentality, but I believe you. You've convinced me that you belong together. Now all you've got to do is convince him.

Jen: And how am I supposed to do that?

Abby: Easy. You're just going to have to double your efforts to wear his guard down in the coming days, that's all. How hard can that be? (she smiles at Jen triumphantly, who slowly gives her a small smile in return)

Pacey: Time to refuel.

Dawson: (glances at the gas gauge) We've got over half a tank.

Pacey: I wasn't talking about the car, bro, I was talking about me. I'm starving. (he pulls the car into a 24-hour coffee shop/truck stop at the side of the Interstate and turns off the ignition)

Dawson and Pacey are sitting at a booth. Dawson sips an orange juice and nibbles on a chocolate chip muffin, while Pacey enthusiastically wolfs down a full plate of sausages, eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast and hash browns. He also has a small bowl of cereal, a large glass of orange juice and a cup of coffee. The car keys are prominently displayed on the tabletop between the two of them, amid a variety of opened packets of jams, condiments, maple syrup, sugar packets and creamers. Pacey snickers to himself as he adds milk and sugar to his coffee and stirs it.

Dawson: What's so amusing?

Pacey: (takes a bite of his pancakes) I was just thinking ... now I know how McPhee felt.

Dawson: What do you mean?

Pacey: (his mouth full) I told you ... The other day? When she hit me in my dad's cruiser and I actually had her convinced I was a cop? She was calling me Officer Pacey and everything! Classic! (swallows) But I think I scared the crap out of her, though.

Dawson: (shrugs) It's karma. What goes around, comes around. (he sips his orange juice) You know, for someone you claim you want to muzzle, you talk about this Andie McPhee an awful lot, Pace.

Pacey: (a little defensively) Your point being? (he takes a large swig of juice)

Dawson: No point ... just an observation. (he smiles)

Pacey: (he spears a piece of sausage with his fork and waves it about as he speaks, for emphasis) If you're trying to imply that I somehow have some sort of misguided ... affection ... for her that is manifesting itself through animosity or, or ... verbal warfare ... you couldn't be further from the truth. (he shoves the sausage into his mouth and chews) I mean, the girl spits razorblades every time she opens her mouth. (he swallows) It's hardly what you'd call a turn-on.

Dawson: (amused) Did I say anything of the sort?

Pacey: No. (quickly) I just wanted to make myself clear, that's all.

Dawson: Oh, you're clear all right. Clear as mud. (he chuckles)

Pacey: Well, what about you, D? You seem to have your own fair share of woman problems. I saw that kiss Jen planted on you tonight. What was all that about?

Dawson: I wish I knew. She ... she just jumped me! Clearly, she was heavily under the influence of a toxic element that altered her regular personality --

Pacey: Yeah, alcohol will do that to you.

Dawson: I meant Abby. (takes a sip of juice) Although I'm sure the alcohol didn't exactly help any, either.

Pacey: So now what? (bites into his toast)

Dawson: Well ... I figure if we stop to get gas now, we should make it ba --

Pacey: I wasn't talking about our travel itinerary, I was talking about Lolita the lush. What are you gonna do about her? (takes a mouthful of cereal)

Dawson: Jen? (Pacey nods, his mouth full. Dawson looks momentarily confused) Oh. I ... um ... nothing. (shrugs) Ignore her, I guess, and hopefully she'll go away.

Pacey: Uh-huh. (pause) You gonna tell wifey about your close encounter of the Jen kind? (sips his coffee)

Dawson: Who, Joey? (sips his juice)

Pacey: Unless you're involved in another relationship that I don't know about. Yes, Joey. Are you gonna tell her about Jen?

Dawson: I don't know. (thinks a moment) Should I?

Pacey: (takes a big bite of his toast) Dunno pal. Your call. But ... personally? I wouldn't ruin a good thing with Joey by dragging up a fluke, random and totally meaningless incident with Jen.

Dawson: Yeah, I guess.

Pacey: You guess?

Dawson: (sighs) It's just that I want to be truthful with Joey. After everything we've been through, we made a promise to always be honest with each other. And to start off our new relationship with deception and duplicity, however small ... well, it doesn't exactly honour that commitment.

Pacey: Dawson, Dawson, Dawson! As usual, you're gunning for the Nobel Prize in over-analysis. It isn't like you crawled into Jen's bed, or went skinny-dipping with her, or anything like that. (shovels a mouthful of eggs into his mouth) It was a kiss. And barely even one, at that. (Dawson continues to look unimpressed. Pacey sighs, exasperated) Look, did you get anything out of it?

Dawson: No.

Pacey: Did you kiss her back?

Dawson: No.

Pacey: Did you tickle her tonsils with your tongue?

Dawson: (disgusted) Pacey ...

Pacey: Well? (eats a forkful of bacon) There you go, then. It was nothing. So stop making much ado about it.

Dawson: (takes a bite of his muffin) You know, you're right. I know how ... insecure ... Joey can be at the mere mention of Jen's name. There's no point upsetting her over something so trivial.

Pacey: (mouth full) That's my boy!

Dawson: I'm just going to have to double my efforts to keep my guard up in the coming days, that's all. (smiles at Pacey) How hard can that be?

Dawson: Pace?

Pacey: Yeah?

Dawson: Remember at the party tonight, how you said I didn't know how you got that scar on your cheek?

Pacey: Yeah.

Dawson: (softly) Well ... how did you? Get it, I mean.

Pacey stares straight ahead silently. His hands are clenched on the steering wheel, and his lips drawn in a thin line.

Pacey: (tightly) Don't remember.

Dawson: Wha ... how can you not remember? You asked me --

Pacey: (sternly) I don't remember, okay?

Dawson: (quietly, after a moment of silence) Okay.

Joey: Hey!

Jack: (softly) Good morning.

Joey: You're a little early, aren't you? The cook isn't even in for another half-hour.

Jack: (shrugs) Just thought I'd get a jump start on things.

Joey: Well, stop being so conscientious, it makes the rest of us look bad. (she smiles)

Joey goes over to the counter, grabs her apron and attempts to tie it in the back.

Jack: Here, let me.

Joey: (hesitates a moment, then smiles gratefully) Uh, thanks.

Jack comes over and stands closely behind her. He awkwardly ties the apron in silence, as Joey looks around, a little flustered and uncomfortable. Jack: There.

Joey quickly walks away. She picks up a sheet of paper and begins transcribing the daily specials from it onto a small chalk board, while Jack resumes mopping the floor. They work in silence for a few moments.

Jack: (softly) So, how was the make up?

Joey: (puzzled) Make-up? I'm not wearing any ma--

Jack: (chuckles quietly) No, not that kind of make-up ... I meant with your boyfriend ... last night.

Joey: Oh. It was fine. (a smile creeps onto her face) Just fine. (Jack nods and the corners of his mouth turn up in a very small smile. Joey seems embarrassed, so she changes the subject) Tell you what, you missed one hell of a pier party.

Jack: Not really my scene.

Joey: (she shrugs) I know ... it isn't really mine, either, but it was thrown by a friend of mine, so there was a certain obligation for us to make an appearance. (thinks a moment) Funny thing is, I didn't even see him all night.

Jack: (slightly confused) Who ... your boyfriend or your friend?

Joey: My friend. Pacey ... Pacey Witter?

Jack: (shakes his head a minute, then stops) Wait ... I think I heard my sister Andie mention something about a Pacey she met the other day ... he's a cop or something?

Joey: (snorts) Not exactly. His father is the town sheriff and his brother Doug's the deputy, God help us ... but Pacey's exploits usually tend to place him squarely on the other side of law enforcement.

Jack: (smiles) Ah.

Joey: He gives juvenile delinquents a bad name, you know? But he's basically harmless. Just suffers from mass delusions of grandeur.

Jack: Yeah, I seem to recall her saying something along those lines, too.

Joey: So, have you and your sister met any of Capeside's other illustrious residents yet?

Jack: Not really. (he stops mopping)Well, I mean my sister's met a couple of people at school. She's always been quite the social butterfly.

Joey: Has she alwasy been so ... (she trails off, not sure how to phrase it)

Jack: Excitable? (chuckles) Yeah, that's Andie. When she gets on a roll, there's no stopping her. But like your friend, she's basically harmless. She's got a good heart behind that high-strung exterior. (he leans on the mop)

Joey: (teasing) And what about you, Jack McPhee? What are you like underneath that subdued, reticient demeanour? (she walks over to the countertop, picks up a cloth and starts wiping it down)

Jack: Me? (shrugs) Pretty much what you see is what you get.

Joey: (still teasing) What, no skeletons in the closet? No hidden neuroses?

Jack: (quickly) No. (pause) So ... it's your turn, Joey Potter. (grins) What ... makes ... you ... tick.

Joey: (wrinkles her nose and smiles, then shakes her head) Oh, I don't know.

Jack: C'mon, there must be something.

Joey: Well ... what do you want to know? (smiles)

Jack: Well ... how long have you lived in Capeside?

Joey: All my life ... (smiles) much to my chagrin.

Jack: That bad?

Joey: Yeah. Well, no ... I mean, there are a few fringe benefits, I guess.

Jack: Right. And how long have you and the main "fringe benefit" been dating?

Joey: (flushed, she looks down at the counter) Um ... actually, only a couple of weeks. (quickly) But I've known him practically all my life.

Jack: Wow.

Joey: What? (she picks up a large open box of straws and begins to fill a dispenser with them, concentrating intensely)

Jack: (softly) Well, it's just that ... if I had known you all my life, I don't think I could wait that long to ask you out.

Joey looks up at him suddenly, and drops the box of straws on the ground. She and Jack both bend down to pick them all up the same moment. They are very close to each other in an awkward kind of way, not really speaking, when the sudden jarring noise of the bells on the door jingling breaks their spell. Dawson enters, looking very tired.

Joey: (flushed) Dawson! What are you doing here? (she stands up)

Dawson: Hi. (he smiles, then yawns) Just got back from an all-nighter with Pacey. Road trip.

Joey: Oh. Um ... you remember Jack, right? Jack, this is Dawson, my ... (Dawson looks at her a moment as she hesitates, a litttle embarassed) my boy ... friend. (she half-smiles at Dawson and blushes)

Jack: Nice to meet you. (Jack stands up and they shake hands, then Jack disappears into the kitchen with the bucket he was washing the floor with)

Dawson: (calling after him) Uh, yeah ... you too. (to Joey) I forgot you were working this morning. Pacey and I drove by your house about twenty minutes ago when we got back into town, we must have just missed you. I even threw pebbles at your living room window twice. I thought you were just being a heavy sleeper, as usual, but then I remembered you were on early shift today.

Joey: Yeah, well, some of us can't roam the countryside all night long, gallavanting around with a juvenile delinquent in some dilapidated old truck ... a stolen truck, I might add.

Dawson: Well, like the juvenile delinquent himself says -- you don't steal from family, you borrow. (he kisses her on the forehead)

Joey: Hmph ... spoken like a true convict-in-training.

Dawson: Besides, we didn't borrow from his family, we borrowed from mine.

Joey: (incredulous) What? Don't tell me he's corrupted you, too.

Dawson: (pleased with himself) Yup. We took the Mitchmobile.

Joey: You did, huh? You rebel, you. I'm impressed.

Joey smiles, and pulls him in for a kiss, just as Jack comes out of the kitchen with the bucket full of fresh water. The noise he makes putting it down breaks Dawson and Joey apart. All three of them stand there for a moment in silence, looking uncomfortable.

Jack: Sorry ... I didn't mean to in--

Joey: Uh, no ... no, that's fine! Um ... Dawson, do you want to ... let's go outside, okay?

Joey leads Dawson outside, on to the patio. They stand near a railing, overlooking the water.

Joey: So ... how was the trip, anyway? Where'd you wind up?

Dawson: (casually) Oh ... Maine.

Joey: Maine? I was thinking Boston, maybe, but Maine? Wow. I am impressed.

Dawson: It wasn't too shabby ... but there was one thing definitely lacking.

Joey: Really? And what was that? High speed cop chase? Hitchhikers?

Dawson: (standing very close to her and smiling broadly) Nope. Just you. (softly) I missed you.

She smiles back, then wraps her arms around his neck. Dawson holds her very close as he pulls her in for a long, slow kiss. They are completely oblivious to their surroundings. From inside the Icehouse, Jack leans on the mop and watches the pair through the window, a wistful expression on his face.

* * * * * END * * * * *

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