Havoc In A Perfect World- Part 1
Author’s name: Maddie
Email: maddie@systematics.demon.co.uk
Title: Havoc in a perfect world
Part: 1/?
Classification: P/J
Rating: Whole series- R or NC17, part 1 PG
Short Summery: The inconstant feelings and emotions of the four teenagers
means that change is inevitable in the group. Confused by her relationship
with Dawson and his feelings for her, Joey grows closer to Pacey, but the
change in feelings about themselves and each other means that havoc is
caused between the four friends.
Subject: P/J, coded, maddie, 1/?
Disclaimer: Huh! Why bother, everybody knows I’m not Kevin Williamson and I
don’t own……blah, blah, blah, Fox, etc, etc,- If I did I wouldn’t have even
written the word disclaimer, and I probably wouldn’t be writing for the
internet- no offence meant.
Author’s note: I’d like this opportunity to say how great I think all the
fanfiction websites are, and I’ve ready almost every story posted, (at
least in the P/J archive.) And the writers of Popcorn, Beyond the Pale,
Anticipation or Serendipity, you guys are great! My feedback to you is on
its way…sometime….before the millenium….I hope….
Please- I would really like feedback- I need to know what you think….
Brown, tousled hair appeared over the top of the locker, and a hand was
absent-mindedly raised to smooth down the flyaway strands. A sigh emerged
from behind the metal door, which had withstood the throwing of footballs
and the angry slamming, and the aimless teens that walked around, clumsily
bumping into anything that didn’t move out of the way quick enough. Like
locker doors, or trees….or half brain jocks, Joey Potter thought bitterly as
she slammed the door shut and turned her back on the disarray.
The dull ache at the base of her neck that had seemed remotely
bearable that morning had spread, so that a dark, black pain seeped through
her body, and focused at the points behind her eyes. Joey let her head
momentarily fall to her chest, and her hand moved up to her face. She rubbed
the spaces either sided of her nose, in an attempt to reduce the pain that
was lodged there.
Dawson Leery, who had watched his girlfriend’s attempt to cope with
her chaotic lifestyle with growing affection, reached out a hand, placing it
gently on her shoulder. Joey acknowledged his gesture, letting a small groan
emerge, just perceptible from beneath the long fingers she used to cover her
face. She half turned towards Dawson, who stood beside her. Her hands
remained covering her face but she peeked at him through the gaps. Shaking
her head a couple of times, attempting to clear it, she let Dawson pull her
hands away, let them drop to her side, feeling a sharp pain jolt through her
upper arms as her school-Bag quickly weighed her down.
"Kill me now."
"Joey," Dawson replied, accepting her cynism with a mere shake of
the head.
"Cyanide?"
"Enough, Joey.""
"I was thinking, perhaps lethal injection? What do you think
Dawson?"
"I think it’s time for history," he replied, gently guiding her
towards the classroom, holding her elbow.
Joey tiredly rubbed her eyes again. She sighed. "I will be history
unless I take something for this headache."
Dawson reached into his bag, pulling out a small box. "Aspirin?"
Without waiting for an answer he chucked her the box. Although she was
tired, and her reflexes were barely at normal speed, she managed to catch
the box, squinting as she read the label. She pulled off a sheet of two pale
white tablets and pocketed them, returning the box to Dawson. She grinned
tiredly and looked at Dawson, holding out her arm, palm up.
"On the other hand," she said, "if you give me the whole box, that
might be an escape route."
Dawson rolled his eyebrows. "It can’t be that bad Joey. It’s the
last period, please try to hang on."
Joey nodded her head vaguely, as if deep in thought, contemplating a
notion that had somehow made its way into her mass of thoughts. "Mmn," she
replied. "Yeah, if I wait until I get to the Icehouse I could slit my throat
with a butter-knife."
"Joey…" Dawson winced. "What’s with the mortuary jargon? Are you
re-living "Kalifornia" through the eyes of a 15 year old from Masachusets?
Cause you know, Brad Pitt died in that movie."
Joey nodded slowly. "True, and how did he come to his unfortunate
end?"
Dawson wracked his brain. "I’m not sure. That movie never graced the
Dawson Leery video machine. It was never my favourite film…. David Duchovny
shot him I think."
Joey grinned. "Twice." She pulled her bag closer to her chest as they
walked, leaning her chin against it. "I think once would be enough for
me……..yeah, in-fact, a quick one to the head might not be a bad idea."
"Whoa, hold up, Joey." Dawson frowned as he stared down at her. "Can
I trust you not to do anything I might regret later?"
Joey grinned at him. "You’re right, too easy. And too cliched. I need
something a little more……" She paused, waving her arms around in the air for
effect.
"Humane?" Dawson offered. "Like perhaps abandoning the whole suicide
mission until, well, about….." he paused, studying his watch, "…4:00 when I
can check you’re still alive and remove any items from your possession that
may be harmful to yourself or others."
"Right from the manual, very good Dawson. Actually, I was thinking- a
gun- it’s clean, painless, glamourous…"
"A must, of course," Dawson said, cutting in. Well, if you can’t beat
them, join them, he thought wryly as he stared down at Joey serious face,
her dark eyes clouded over by something, her skin pale, the only colour
being dark circles under her eyes.
"Yeah, glamouress, but…….it lacks a certain something. Some….." she
searched again for a suitable word. "Pizazz," she settled for, looking up at
Dawson.
He nodded, a serious expression on his face. "You’re right, too many
times. We may have to settle for the butter knife."
They had finally reached the classroom. Dawson let go of her elbow
and pushed her gently towards the open door. He started to turn and walk
back towards the science lab. He turned again and saw Joey leaning against
the doorframe. He gave a half smile and patted her gently on the shoulder.
"You’ll be fine, Joey," he said.
"Yeah." Joey smiled. "Thanks, Dawson, I always knew I could rely on
you…."
Dawson grinned, "you know, to help me with my choice for the
inevitable suicide weapon. Your input was….noticed. For lack of a better
word." She held up a finger and pointed it at Dawson. "Although your
creativity on the film set has not spread to the death squad." She grinned.
"Well, we can work on it. Anyway, have some nice teenage years, right before
everything else kicks in."
Dawson raised an eyebrow. Joey looked at him and continued. "You
know, obesity, or boredom, or heartbreak, or the menopause….." She shrugged.
"It’s all in store for you, Dawson. I’m just taking an early exit." She
grinned. " I’ll see you in the afterlife…..if I ever get there," she
muttered darkly.
Dawson winced. "Morbid, Joey. Very morbid."
Joey grinned and turned to walk into the classroom. She paused
briefly, and looked over her shoulder. "Did you expect any less, Dawson?"
She grinned again, and sat down at a seat Dawson studied her profile for a
few seconds, before gving a small smile.
"See you later Jo." He turned quickly on his heel and ran down the
gradually emptying corridors towards the science labs, leaving behind Joey,
who leaned forward in her seat and peered through the door, watching her
boyfriend quickly try to make it to his last lesson. Time flies, Joey
thought. When you’re Having fun. She grinned slightly, thinking of the
enormous pain soaring through her head. Fun…..it just couldn’t be further
from the truth………who made up those bloody things? They deserved to be
shot….Nah, Joey thought. Too easy…..
******************
Pacey Witter’s groan was muffled by the sweat-shirt covered arms he was
laying his face on. He shook his head several times and looked up, rubbing
his eyes. He met a few faces of students who had turned around to observe
his awakening, who snickered, or giggled. Or looked at him, annoyed that he
was disrupting the lesson. A minority, he hoped, raising his eyebrows. Oh
well, since they’d already noticed……he didn’t bother to stifle the yawn that
emerged, and instead leant back in his chair and raised his arms high above
his head, stretching.
The home-economics teacher looked at him with acknowledged distaste.
That she had accepted years ago. This was nothing new. She raised one
delicately plucked eyebrow. "With us, again, Mr Witter?" She looked around
the class, who barely bothered to look up. This disturbance was nothing less
than expected. Few could remember a day when Pacey had managed to sit
through a complete home-economics lesson without falling asleep. It was
pretty much tradition.
Pacey sat up straight and looked innocently at the teacher. "Did I
ever leave?" he asked incredulously.
The teacher smiled thinly. "I was under the impression the snoring I
heard emerging from over there was yours, Pacey?"
Pacey let a look of mock confusion cover his face. "I find you
highly mistaken, Miss Sterling. Those sounds you may have heard were in
fact….." he searched for a word.
"…the average bodily noises of a 16 year-old boy," offered a girl
sitting at the front of the class. "Males have yet to….evolve," she
continued, "into something more than bodily noises, grunts, stupid remarks
and a supposedly large sex drive." She smiled and looked up at the teacher
innocently. "Not that I would, uh, know about the last one, of course." The
class giggled.
"Yes, we are nothing more than amoebas in there lowest form," Pacey
said, silently thanking the girl at the front of the class for pulling the
attention away from him until he’d thought of a reasonable excuse to give
the weary teacher. Who although calm temporarily, Pacey guessed would blow
up at the next signs of trouble. Cheeky, enough to make her smile, he
thought. Just ease up a little on the acerbic wit.
"Quite correct. In fact I have yet to find a person of said gender
whose conversation and budding….intelligence, takes presidence over the
perfectly natural and quite humane urge to fulfil the four main bodily
functions."
Miss Sterling kept a straight face. "Care to fill us in, Pacey?"
Pacey grinned happily. "Why of course. Eat, sleep, drink…."
"And be merry!" shouted one male voice from the back of the
classroom.
Pacey smiled demurely. "…And reproduce," he finished, smiling at the
groans and cheers accompanied by the class. "I’m afraid it’s becoming
increasingly clear that intelligence and wit are forever destined to come
second place to the basic bodily functions on the importance list in the
male division. I don’t think a man exists who is able to divide his time
equally between the two and still have time for a little fun."
The teacher stared at Pacey, her eyes studying his face. "Besides
yourself, of course, Pacey?"
Pacey grinned. "Of course. Because……clearly the study of food
processors and electric whisks demands…." He paused, briefly, gesturing to
his text book, "…a person of extreme intelligence."
The teacher glared at him. Pacey smiled. Perhaps he had gone a
little too far.
*******************
Joey removed the pillow from her face and sat up. She looked groggily around
the room until her eyes settled on Dawson, who sat in his chair watching
her, grinning. Joey glared at him.
"Dawson, there’s something wrong with you." Dawson looked at her,
confused. "You’re smiling," she explained. "I mean, why? Shouldn’t you be
depressed? Oh, no, wait. That would be me." She sighed and pulled the pillow
to her face, falling back against the bed.
"I thought you were feeling better," Dawson said.
"Yeah, I am. In fact, my headache has completely subsided. I can
suddenly, joyously, think clearly again and am once more faced with the
reality of my meagre existence."
"Ooh, Joey." Dawson winced. "Please don’t get too optimistic on me.
I may just faint in surprise."
Joey grinned. "Fine, just try to do it on the floor. I was planning
on taking the bed tonight."
"Taking the bed?" he asked incredulously. "You mean…..we can’t share
any more?" He grinned at her seductively.
Joey gave him a half-smile and raised an eyebrow. "I don’t know,
Dawson. We’re dating now. Who knows what we might get up to if we fail to
resist the temptation of sharing a bed?"
Dawson gave a mock sigh and frown as he sighed heavily in
disappointment. He rolled over on the bed until his back was facing her.
Joey looked at him and grinned. She heard a muffled sound emerge. "What was
that, Dawson? Your mature wit and superior intellignce were temporarily
displaced by some sort of….." she paused. "Muffled groan. Care to repeat?"
"Fine," he said, referring to her previous comment about the bed. "I
don’t want you anyway."
Joey grinned as she watched him sulking. Slowly she got on her hands
and knees and hovered above him, letting her loose, dark hair hang down
around her face, just touching his shoulders as she bent down nearer to him.
She moved until her mouth was right by his ear, breathing heavily. Dawson
refused to look at her but she could see the corner of his mouth turn up in
a barely perceptible smile. She moved even closer. "Really?" she whispered,
her bottom lip just touching his cheek as she spoke. "Not at all?" She
waited for his response but Dawson only smiled. Joey softly moved her lips
down to touch his skin and she kissed him gently. She waited again for a
reaction, but none came. She moved again, gently kissing him on his cheek
until she reached his ear. She took his ear-lobe in her mouth and bit
gently. She could feel Dawson twitch slightly under her. She let go and
moved down to kiss him again, where his shoulder met his neck, gently
nicking the skin. She stopped again, waiting, and when Dawson didn’t move,
she sat up, frowning at him as she stared down at his profile.
"Dawson, this is not a one-way street. I expect a little something
in return." She grinned "Come on, up the gas, hit me at full force- I can
take it."
Dawson finally turned to face her. Joey’s smile faded as she saw his
face. He wasn’t smiling, like she had imagined he would be. In fact, she
couldn’t see anything, and that scared her. She remembered when she had
thought they could read each others eyes. It seemed harder to do these days,
and maybe everything needed to say was said with words, Joey thought as she
looked down at him, sadly. But now he lay with his face blank, neither
smiling nor frowning. He seemed…..indifferent, and that hurt Joey more. She
wondered what she was doing wrong, that didn’t make him want her. That didn’
t make him want to smile.
"Dawson," she said softly.
Dawson sighed. "Chill, Joey," he said, seeing the look in her eye.
He neither, could see what she was thinking the way they once had been able
to, but Dawson put that down to late nights, and more time together, and
perhaps the need for that secret communication had gone now that they were
together. Now that they no longer had to prevent growing up, the recognition
of attraction, or lust, or romance. Or something more, Dawson thought,
wondering if it was with Joey, or if they had both been caught up in the
whirlwind events that had surrounded their first real kiss. Chill, Dawson,
he said to himself. Stop analysing everything. Just let it be. It’ll all
turn out all-right in the end. Dawson smiled sadly to himself. Maybe it
would, but he wasn’t sure he could handle all the chaos in-between.
He looked up to see Joey looking down at him, expectantly. Waiting
for an explanation. "I’m just not in the mood," he said softly, hating
himself for giving in to those dark eyes that stared at him. And the irony
of it was that she was indirectly preventing him from giving her what she
really wanted- the true explantion. He looked up at her and for the life of
him he couldn’t figure out what it was. He just didn’t want to hurt her. He
turned away, not wanting to see the pain on her face.
"You’re not in the mood?" she asked softly, as he pulled himself off
the bed and went to his desk, aimlessly shuffling some papers that lay
there. Dawson wouldn’t turn around to face her. He tried to make his voice
light, uninhibited, unafraid.
"Nah. I’m, uh…..a little tired."
"Katie Couric was enough for you this morning?" Joey asked, her
voice light-hearted, but with a slight edge under her breath that Dawson
could detect.
Dawson paused, briefly. "It’s not you Joey. I’m just not in the mood
for a face-sucking session. Not even with you."
Like you have so many other options," Joey muttered, just loud
enough for Dawson to hear.
"
And you do?" Dawson’s voice hardened and he turned to face her. He
saw Joey tremble slightly, and shut his eyes, wishing he had remained
silent. Joey opened her mouth slightly, as if to say something, then closed
it again, as if she couldn’t quite decide what needed to be said.
She quickly gathered up her belongings. "Of course I don’t. If I
did, would I be here with you?" Cutting edge, she thought. That should hurt
him.
Dawson finally seemed to lose his temper. "Don’t give me that
bullshit Joey, you and I both know your pathetic attempts at indifference
and cool teen queen bitchiness are nothing more than that- attempts. And I
know you well enough to see right through the masquerade you conveniently
decide to act out when you get insecure!"
Insecure, Dawson? Maybe I am, but it’s only because I’m not sure
how long I can rely on you before you turn to the next miss-New-York that
comes our way." She paused for a minute, feeling silent tears well up behind
her eyes. "Look at you Dawson- it took you 15 years to finally figure out
what was right in front of your nose- geez, Dawson, do we have to wait until
I’m 30 before we kiss? Cause I’m figuring by the time I’m 45 my sex-drive
may have decreased just a little, and from then-on it’s all down hill."
"Joey." Dawson sighed "You’re blowing everything out of proportion.
I’m feeling a little tired, I have a headache, and if you don’t stop yelling
at me soon, I may have to adopt your little suicide pact. Hey, we can drink
cyanide together!"
"So passe," Joey said, glaring at him. "Look Dawson, your life
imitates art crap is falling in ruins around you. For once you seemed to
have avoided your rom-com male role and taken the place of the secondary
character- and Matt Damon was so more your style." She paused, turning away
from him, walking to the window where she finally turned back around to face
him. "I always saw Pacey as the Ben Affleck. Maybe I was wrong. But I never
figured you as somebody who would hurt me as much as you’re doing now. And I
always thought it would only be your aimless oblivion, and not me that was
the problem. I didn’t think you’d be somebody to hurt me intentionally." She
climbed onto the window-sill, harshly pulling up the window until she could
squeaze through. She turned and peered through the window, picking out his
face, only just visable in the darkening room. He was staring at her with
his mouth open, as if unable to process the things she was saying. She
leaned back in and stared at him coldly. "To me, at least, it’s becoming
increasingly clear why Spielburgh avoided romance in his movies- ‘cause with
the good guys, Dawson, it really sucks!"
She quickly, stormily, turned away from him and walked briskly down
the ladder, feeling the cold on her bare legs as she descended, leaving
behind the artificial warmth of Dawson’s bedroom. She ran quickly towards
the docks, too scared to turn back to the window, afraid that Dawson might
not be standing there, watching her leave.
Feedback is my reward……………….. please, please, please email me at
maddie@systematics.demon.co.uk
