Havoc In A Perfect World-Part 2
Author’s name: Madeleine
Email: maddie@systematics.demon.co.uk
Title: Havoc in a perfect world
Part: 2/?
Classification:P/J
Rating: whole series R or NC17, this part 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, 2/?
Authors note: Well here’s the second part……if you’re reading this I’m
assuming that you’ve read part 1- and thought that it was at least
reasonably okay….well, I hope you liked it. Please send me feedback- I need
the constructive criticism. Please write to me at
maddie@systematics.demon.co.uk
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.
Joey Potter heard the sharp sound of a telephone and a slender arm
reached out, fumbling by the bed-side table to find the ominous ringing. Her
hand grabbed onto the receiver and she yanked it off the hook, bringing it
to her ear as she surfaced from beneath the mass of blankets.
"Mmn?" It was too late to be polite.
There was a pause, and Joey could hear breathing, hesitant, on the other
end. Something caught in her throat as she pulled the receiver away from her
ear, staring at it as if it was able to provide the answers to her
questions. "Hello?" Cautious.
"Joey." Dawson.
Joey breathed out, a sigh of….relief, and anger, and confusion. Not
sure what to say, and glad that she didn’t have to look at him, and wishing
she could see his face, and know what he was thinking. And know whether he
was telling her the truth or if she would be delivered the same round of
Dawson psycho-babble mono-syllabic string of words he fed everyone else. She
wasn’t sure she could take his over-analysis, or his fantasy world, or his
oblivious comments. Not now.
"Joey, whatever it is, whatever I’ve done….."
Joey sighed, and wondered if she could explain. To herself as well
as to him. "Stop, Dawson. Hold up. I don’t…..want you to apologise when you
don’t even see where the problem lies in our… otherwise "blossoming"
relationship."
"So tell me."
And he made it sound so simple. She sighed and took a deep breath,
preparing herself for the repercussions what she was about to say.
"I just…..need to know why…I feel like I’m putting my whole heart and
soul into this, and you’re holding back. Why I look at you and ask myself
why I don’t feel different to how I did a few months ago, why I feel like
the same Joey Potter, your best friend, and nothing more. Because believe me
Dawson, I’m not asking to return to that complex weave of emotions, and mass
of thoughts, and the turmoil that went along with secretly wanting you. But
I feel like I’m still there in some ways. And I need to know why we haven’t
moved on, why the last few months have been inert, and…..unmoving, and
unchanging. And I need to know why when I touch you, you turn away, and
when I kiss you, you don’t kiss me back."
She paused, breathing heavily, recovering from the rush of words that
had escaped her, that she hadn’t even realised were there. Waiting for him
to say something.
"Joey."
She thought her heart might break if he said her name again, and if
he didn’t follow it with words of love, or an explanation. Even a goodbye.
Just anything to stop her feeling so alone, like she’d just forfeited
everything she had, and would not get it back, just because she had asked
him for more.
All or nothing, she thought. And smiled at the irony. Try so hard to
reach out, and claim what’s yours, what should be yours, and you ultimately
relinquish everything you already had.
"Joey, you know I love you." Joey smiled and wondered whether he
would follow it with a "but", or whether he’d save that for another time. Or
if she was imagining it all. If everything was okay. She waited for him to
continue. "And….I love you more than I love anyone else right now, and I
understand you more than anyone else I know, and you understand me…."
"Dawson." She cut him off, her voice cracking. "You only understand
the things that make sense to you; and you only see the things that you want
to and I’m sitting here now, worrying that I’ve rocked the boat too much,
that I’ve caused havoc in your perfect world. And I don’t understand you as
well as you thought, Dawson."
She could feel a hot stream of tears welling up under her eyes,
falling, silently down her cheeks. And she wanted to hide, and she wanted to
scream at Dawson for not realising, and she wanted him to know. And she
couldn’t make up her mind.
"I don’t understand you as well as I thought, because I just don’t
get why you’re doing this, and how you’ve somehow gained the capability to
hurt me as much as you’re doing right now."
"Neither do I." His reply was short, and sharp, and final. She didn’t
want to imagine his tight-lipped expression, that small frown. She closed
her eyes, and could hear her own breathing, hard against the receiver she
was clutching tight in her hands; and she knew he could hear her too. She
held a hand against her chest, trying to calm herself. "I don’t……I don’t
know what I’m doing wrong."
She should have expected to hear that from him. Mr Oblivious. It
would be on his epitaph, she was sure. ‘Here lies Dawson Leery,’ she
imagined, ‘he was oblivious, but he sure as hell was a nice guy….’ And she
didn’t want to hear that now. She contemplated her possibilities. To scream
at him and hear her own voice ringing in her ears, and his silence, so much
worse than some of the things he was able to say. Or to say nothing, and go
on as if nothing was wrong, or to let him explain himself. Or….she wasn’t
even sure anymore.
"Dawson." Her voice cracked. "I just said that…."
"No." He cut her off. "I don’t mean…..I don’t mean
that…intellectually, I don’t understand what you’re saying, ‘cause believe
me Joey, I’m taking in everything you’re saying, it’s just not…registering
emotionally." He paused, waiting for a reaction that didn’t come. "I mean
that…..I don’t know what I’m feeling, or what I’m showing, or how I seem to
you."
"You seem a little nonchalant, Dawson." And he couldn’t read her
voice, and he had to tread carefully.
He breathed in. "That couldn’t be further from the truth, Joey."
"Couldn’t be further, huh? Is it me that’s running in the opposite
direction, then, or you?"
"Nobody’s running, Jo."
"No, actually I prefer a little light aerobic exercise while watching
"Flashdance" - you know, work a little on my irresistable porn- star body
before going to do it live on cable t.v. Channel 5 in about-oh, I don’t
know, 45 minutes or so. Tune in if you feel like it Dawson. But then…oh, no,
I remember, you don’t go for me, do you Dawson?"
Dawson shut his eyes. "Ease up a little Jo….it’s too late for my
brain to process your acerbic wit."
"And it’s a little too late for me to process your lousy excuses."
"Joey." Wait, he thought. Listen.
"In fact, it’s a little too late for any of this Dawson, so if you
don’t mind, I’ll let you resume your Spielburg movie-marathon, or whatever
it was you were doing before you got the sudden urge to call me at 3:00 am
on an idle Thursday morning."
"Joey. Don’t act like you don’t want to hear what I have to say."
There was silence, and at any other time he would have smiled for
knowing her this well. "Joey. I love you so much, and it really made me
realise that when you were about to go to France. And….I don’t know,
sometimes this whole thing seems a bit twisted, like…like I know you too
well to begin a relationship with you. If things feel stagnant, it’s because
it doesn’t feel right for me to do the whole first date thing, where I’m
shy, and I have sweaty palms, and I wonder what you’re thinking about me. I
come and ask you….what movies you like, or what’s your favourite flavour of
ice -cream….."
Joey had to smile. "Dawson, nobody asks people what there favourite
flavour of ice-cream is on a first date."
"Oh." He sounded disappointed. "I always do."
"And have you compared your dating experience ratio with those of
guys who avoid the whole ice-cream-flavour thing altogether?"
She burst out laughing, and then the laugh caught in her throat when
she remembered where this weird idiosyncrasy had come from.
"Joey, it feels strange to pretend like we have to start from the
beginning. I want us to start from here, from where we are now. I guess it’s
just hard to separate that from the relationship we have already."
Joey smiled, trying to understand, thinking she could understand,
thinking she could forgive Dawson for not kissing her, knowing where his
confusion came from. "I know."
"I’m sorry, Joey. I can’t say that I know exactly what it is I want
from you, or from us, just that I want us to be us while I figure it all
out, process myy feelings, get over the weird feeling I have. We’ve been
friends for so long Joey, and I find it hard to make that transition, even
if you don’t."
"I think….."she paused. "I think we could do the whole first date
thing." She smiled. "The sweaty palms would be reassuring."
awson smiled. "If that’s what you want, Joey."
"I need it to be this way, Dawson. I need to show myself that this is
real. I need to see that things have changed."
There was a pause. "Things have changed, Jo. We just…get so caught up
in analysing our situation, sometimes we get left behind."
She smiled. "That sounds like you, Dawson."
"How about tomorrow? Can I pick you up at 7;00?"
Joey smiled, silently thanking him. "Sure. That would be great." She
smiled, and placed the receiver down on the hook. She lay back on the bed
and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the next evening, and waiting for
Dawson’s reaction. And waiting for him to process his feelings and hurry up
and realise that she loved him.
******************
Dawson stood by his locker, rummaging through, and keeping one eye on the
entrance in front of him. "Ow," he muttered, wincing, and knowing he’d found
what he had been looking for. He saw Joey walk briskly down the hallway, her
eyes to the ground, holding her rucksack tightly over one shoulder. He
smiled and wondered if she was deep in thought or whether she was doing her
best to ignore her surroundings and the crowded Capeside school hall on a
Friday morning. Perhaps it was a mixture of both, and she almost walked
straight past him until he grabbed her elbow and removed her from the rush
of students walking towards their classrooms.
Joey looked down at the hand which had somehow guided her from the
crush, and then up at the face who owned it. She saw Dawson, smiling down at
her, and her eyes cleared as she focused.
"Oh, Dawson. Hi." She looked around briefly, as if suddenly waking
up for a dream, assessing her surroundings, finding her place. She smiled
briefly, distractedly.
Dawson stared at her with a half frown as she glanced around at the
faces around her. He wondered if she was avoiding his gaze, or if she was
merely distracted. "Joey," he asked. "Are you okay?"
Her attention was quickly turned back towards Dawson. "What? Um,
yeah, I’m sorry. Alex kept me up all night. Remind me to tell him that when
he’s old enough to accept blame and feel guilty. I’ll bill him for the hours
of sleep I’ve lost listening to his mindless screaming."
Dawson grinned. "Bitter, I see? I take it young children aren’t your
favourite friends?"
Joey glared at him. "Dawson, until you’ve experienced a night with
the minature incredible hulk with a mouth like a foghorn, and an incredible
willpower and determination to keep me up into all hours of the morning,
keep your small-talk criticisms on my maternal instincts to yourself, okay?"
Dawson grinned, holding up one of his hands in mock surrender,
keeping the other one behind his back. Whoa, hold up Joey. I was merely
questioning your love of small people, since you so clearly find ways to
complain about them whenever you get the chance."
Joey gave him a mock glare, really getting her claws into this one,
enjoying the verbal battle and sparring they were sharing. "How are things
in wonderland, Dawson? ‘cause here in reality it’s getting a little tiring.
Here babies actually keep you up all night, and spit in your face, and find
ways to engage your time when there are so many other things to do. They don
’t just sit there and look nice."
"Joey, I’m getting the feeling you have a major baby complex."
"Ooh, Dawson, I’m getting the feeling you’re in need of a reality
check!"
"Well, well, look who took a happy pill this morning."
"Dawson……god, for the first time, I really can’t be bothered to
persuade you of your wrongs right now. I’ll leave that to the missionaries
and those little fairies that co-habbit your dreams."
Dawson grinned. "And I concur. Well, except for the last bit.
Anyway, that’s really not the main thing I wanted to talk about with you."
Joey raised her eyebrows. "Ooh, there’s more? I’m feeling so
blessed….."
Dawson ignored her. "No, Jo, actually I wanted to give you
something."
"A shotgun?"
"No. This." He pulled his other arm from behind his back and
presented Joey with a single red rose on a long, green stem.
Joey looked stunned, and Dawson scrutinised her face, watching her
studiously. He could pick out so many different emotions, and he wasn’t sure
what to read. Confusion, surprise, relief. Annoyance maybe, he wasn’t sure.
Save yourself, he thought. Make light of the situation if it’s too much for
her. But…..she was the one who wanted more, and he didn’t know if he was
doing the right thing, and if he wasn’t, he wasn’t sure what he was doing
wrong.
Dawson smiled slightly. "Why Joey, have I reduced you to silence?"
"Why Dawson, have I reduced you to a hapless romantic?"
Dawson frowned. Sure. Fine. Whatever.
Joey smiled. "Dawson chill. It’s beautiful. Thankyou." She leaned up
and planted a kiss against his cheek. She got down off her tip-toes and
looked up at him, grinning. "Now all I need is a peasant top and a brightly
coloured trailer, and I can travel the world as the singing gypsy from
Massachusetts."
Dawson smiled, relieved. "You don’t sing."
Joey gave a mock frown, as if deep in thought. "Mmn, that’s a good
point. And mime is so passe."
Dawson felt the need to prove his feelings, to her and to himself.
To prove them, and to….sought them out. He quickly dropped his bag to the
floor, and took the other from a speechless Joey who stood watching him in
silent confusion. He left her holding the single red rose and put his arms
around her waist. Joey could wince at the cliché if it had been any other
time, but when she looked up into his eyes, she saw something there, and she
didn’t want to confront that. Not right now. Not at the risk of losing
everything that they had accumulated over the time they had spent together.
Not since she felt like she was balancing everything, afraid for it all to
fall, collapse in ruins.
She felt his arms circle her waist, and bend her back, and she
gripped his shoulders as she leaned precariously backwards; she wondered if
he got some power kick out of all of this. And she quickly displaced that
thought as he leaned in, and she could feel his breath warm against her
face. He kissed her, gently, and then more passionately, and she was acutely
aware of the perpetual silence, and yet the knowledge that there were people
there, watching her.
Joey kissed him back, and buried her face against him, afraid for it
to end because she was afraid to pull back and see his face, and see other
people watching her with knowing smiles.
Pacey stood behind them, and his silence was unusual amongst the mill
of people surrounding him. He watched his friend, and his…..he wasn’t sure
if there were words to describe his relationship with Joey. He watched them
with a perplexed and studious look on his face, and wondered whether Dawson
was feeling himself, or whether Joey was responsible for this sudden
character change. And not feeling right about watching them, as if he were
somehow invading something he shouldn’t see, something…..on the brink of God
knows what, but not ready for this public scrutiny. Pacey wondered if it was
just him, if he was imagining it all or if there was an evident tension
surrounding the two teenagers who stood in the centre of the hall.
For once, not sure of what to say, and holding back from the
inevitable wise-crack that would emerge if he remained here for another
second, Pacey turned quietly, and walked away.
Please, please…..write to me!
maddie@systematics.demon.co.uk
