Email: earthangel52@hotmail.com
Part 10 of ?
Distribution: Just email me!
Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I’m just borrowing Kevin’s characters for fun. I promise I’ll only hurt them a little bit. *grin* Mollye’s Market Café and the First Church of the Nazarene are also products of the imagination of the DC team (you can find information on them at the Capeside website, accessible from www.dawsonscreek.com), so I can’t pretend that they’re mine, either (darn it!!)

Author’s Note: Thanks once again to the awesome Kilby, proofreader extraordinaire; Laura, the dumping ground for all my problems (including a certain muffin baker…) and source of encouragement; and everyone that tells me to keep on writing. You guys are why I keep on doing this!

In order for you guys to fully experience the funeral scene, I’ve included the link to a .wav file of Alex actually singing "Amazing Grace". I recommend that you download it - Alex is a truly awesome singer. If you’re the kind of person that pictures scenes in your head when you read, this is a must-hear. It’s a semi-large download (around 800kb), so I recommend that you start now. It should be ready by the time you get to that scene, depending on the speed of your modem. Just hit play when you get to the correct spot (you’ll know when it is) and you can pretend that you’re actually there. (Now, if only I could get .wav files of people being beaten over the head with a toilet seat for Lesley…)

Note from Alex: Well, long ago there was a link of your lovely web mistress, singing, but it seems that it has since been lost. Sorry! But thank you, Lisa, for the guest spot and the kind words :)

Amazing Grace

* * *
The next morning
8:30 a.m.

"Pacey? You awake?" Joey whispered, gently shaking his shoulder. He groaned and groggily lifted his head. "Why did you sleep at the kitchen table?" she laughed. Pacey glanced around him and realized where he was. He stretched his arms over his head and yawned.

"What’s that?" she asked, motioning to the white envelope in his hand. Pacey had completely forgotten about it. He quickly brought his arms back down to his sides, hiding the envelope from Joey’s view.

"Nothing important. How did you sleep last night?" he replied, attempting to change the subject.

"Just fine. Let me see that," she requested, motioning with her fingers. Pacey reluctantly handed it over to Joey. She quickly scanned it, then threw it on the table, pretending to be unaffected by it. Pacey, however, knew better. She opened the freezer and grabbed a bagel. She put it in the toaster before turning her attention back to Pacey. "Where did you find that?" she demanded, trying to play it cool but failing miserably.

"Right underneath the newspaper. Bessie must’ve picked it up with the rest of the mail yesterday and forgotten to give it to you. I didn’t mean to pry, Jo, I was just concerned." Joey nodded, then retrieved her bagel from the toaster and began to butter it. She returned to the table and glanced back and forth between the note and Pacey. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but she stopped him with a motion of her hand.

"I’m not upset; I just don’t want to have to deal with this on top of everything else," she explained, referring to Kristen and Lesley. Pacey nodded in understanding, then grew silent. He had a thoughtful look on his face, one that Joey couldn’t ignore.

"What?" He shook his head.

"Nothing important really,…just…well, what if this is part of everything else? You said you didn’t want to deal with this on top of their deaths, but what if this is related?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

"I mean, what if the same person that killed Kristen and Lesley is writing these notes to you?" Joey shook her head.

"That’s ridiculous, Pacey."

"No it’s not. I think that there might be some truth in that. We should tell T.C. about the letters." Joey shook her head vehemently.

"There’s no reason she needs to know," she protested, in fear of being forced to reveal everything about last summer…including the abortion.

"I don’t want you to get hurt, Joey. Maybe it’s nothing. But on the chance that it’s something, we should tell her," he pleaded.

"Pacey, I don’t want to tell T.C. about the notes. That’s it."

"Why not? If the same person that’s writing these notes is the same on that killed Kristen and Lesley, you could be next."

"Stop trying to scare me. What is she going to be able to do about it, anyway?" she scoffed, taking another bite of her bagel.

"She’s from the Boston Police Department. They’re trained to deal with psychopaths like this. She sees it all the time."

"You think some psychopath is writing these?" she asked, a twinge of fear in her voice. Pacey reached for her hand and squeezed it.

"I’d like to think it’s just a joke, like you said, but I want to be on the safe side." Joey shook her head.

"I really don’t want to tell T.C. about the notes," she repeated.

"Why not?"

"Because," she replied. "She’ll want to know ‘what I did last summer’, according to the note. And neither of us is ready to talk about that again." Pacey was silent. In his desire to protect Joey from harm, he had forgotten what the note was referring to. Joey, Dawson, the graduation party…he was definitely not ready to relive that. But, glancing at Joey, he realized that her life was more important than having to go through that ordeal again. So he told her.

"I don’t know," Joey answered after he was finished, the hesitation obvious in her voice.

"Please, Jo. It’ll be hard, but isn’t it worth it to feel safe?" Joey sighed.

"All right," she answered after a few minutes. "You call T.C. and tell her that we’ll meet her after Kristen’s funeral. I’m going to take a shower." She left the room, leaving Pacey alone with the note.

* * *

Jen’s Room

Ring! Ring! Ring! Jen groaned and rolled over to her back. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand.

"Whoever this is better have a good excuse," she mumbled, reaching for the phone. "Hello?"

"Good morning, Jen! It’s Dawson," replied a cheery voice on the other end of the phone.

"It’s 8:45. Can I ask what’s so important that it couldn’t wait until a decent hour? I’m trying to get some rest here," she complained.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I just wanted to know if you were going to Kristen McGill’s funeral today and if you needed a ride." Jen shook her head, even though Dawson couldn’t see her.

"I don’t think so. I don’t do the whole church thing; you know that. Besides, after what happened at the viewing yesterday, I'm not sure that it's a safe place to be."

"Are you positive?"

"Yes, and I’d rather you didn’t go either," she answered.

"My parents are going, and I think that I should too."

"Please don’t, Dawson. I don’t want anything to happen to you."

"Jen, I’ll be fine," Dawson reassured her. "I won’t go anywhere alone."

"What about Karen? She’s not going, is she?"

"You’re worried about Karen getting hurt? Are you feeling all right?"

"Dawson, even if I despise the girl, I still don’t want anything bad to happen to her. There’s no reason for her to be at the funeral. Tell her to stay home. I wish you would, too." Dawson sighed.

"Jen, I’m not staying home, but I won’t take Karen with me. It’ll just be Pacey, Joey, and my family, okay?" There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

"Be careful," Jen implored, conceding defeat.

"I will. I need to get ready now, but I’ll call you when I get home from the funeral."

"All right. Bye."

"Bye."

* * *

Potter Kitchen
Around 9:00 a.m.

As soon as he heard the shower in the bathroom start to run, Pacey rummaged in his jacket pocket until he located T.C.’s business card. "Car phone, cell phone, or beeper?" he murmured to him, trying to decide which number to try. In addition to the office and home phone numbers printed on the front of her business card, T.C. had scrawled the three additional ones on the back. He decided to try the cell phone first. He punched in the number and waited.

"T.C. McGonigle," a brisk voice answered on the second ring.

"T.C.? It’s Pacey Witter."

"Ah, Pacey. What can I do for you?"

"Can Joey and I talk to you after we go to Kristen’s funeral?"

"Did Joey remember something from the bathroom yesterday?" T.C. asked eagerly.

"No, there’s something else we wanted to talk to you about," he said vaguely.

"All right," she said, disappointed. "Where do you want to meet? I don’t know any of the food places around here, so you’ll have to suggest something."

"How about Mollye’s Market Café? We can discuss it over coffee, possibly lunch."

"Great. Meet you at eleven?"

"Sounds good. See you then."

"Bye, Pacey."

* * *

First Church of the Nazarene
9:30 a.m.

"We are gathered here today to remember the all too brief life of Kristen Marie McGill," Reverend Michaelson began. He began to talk, motioning frequently with his hands, but Joey had already tuned him out. She could think of nothing but the second note and her upcoming meeting with T.C. She crossed her fingers and hoped that she would be able to only skim over the Dawson incident and completely bypass the abortion. She pondered the best way to explain what had happened between herself and Dawson to T.C. Maybe I should convince her how much Pacey and I loved each other, and then go into the getting drunk…or perhaps I should start with the drinking and end with how guilty I felt…or maybe…

"Now current Capeside High School student Alexandra Davis will sing ‘Amazing Grace’ for us, accompanied by Mrs. Johnson on the organ," Reverend Michaelson announced, gesturing to a girl with curly brown hair and deep green eyes. Joey jerked back to attention when the opening organ notes of "Amazing Grace" wafted throughout the church, signaling the end of the funeral. She realized that she hadn’t paid attention at all and hoped that she hadn’t made a fool of herself. She was about to ask Pacey, but she noticed the tears in his eyes and decided against it. Instead, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. Pacey looked at her gratefully as Alexandra’s powerful voice filled the entire room.

After the first verse, there was an eight measure interlude where Mrs. Johnson played part of the melody again in order to give Alexandra a chance to prepare for the next verse. During it, Joey glanced around the church. It wasn’t as full as she had expected, although it appeared most of Capeside had decided to come. Where are Jen and Karen? she wondered, seeing Dawson with only his parents on the right side of the church. She made a mental note to ask him on their way out.

As Alexandra opened her mouth to begin the second verse, the door in the back of the church opened with a bang. Shocked, Mrs. Johnson stopped playing and everyone at the funeral turned to see who was there. It was so bright outside, however, that the form in the doorway was merely a shadow. Mrs. Johnson shrugged and repeated the eight measure interlude; she, like the rest of the congregation, was convinced that it was only a late mourner. When Alexandra tried to start the second verse this time, however, she was interrupted by three rapid gunshots. Screams of pure terror echoed throughout the church as mourners dove for cover underneath the pews. Pacey grabbed Joey’s arm and brought her down to the floor.

"Get down!" he yelled, forcing her into a crouch. He covered her head and part of her back with his own body, protecting her from the additional gunshots he was sure would be coming. After several minutes of silence, however, Pacey slowly sat up and glanced around the church. A few people were standing against the wall and talking in low voices. He heard sobbing and a few grunts of pain, but no gunshots. He glanced over the top of the pew and saw that the doorway was empty. "Jo, I think it’s okay," he said, offering his hand to her. She accepted and he pulled her into a standing position.

"Is anyone hurt?" the Reverend called from the front of the room. He was crouched behind the podium. A few murmurs in the negative were heard in the church. The Reverend smiled broadly. "Thank goodness. Now, if all of you would just-"

"Help! Dear God, someone, help!" a voice cried. Pacey and Joey turned instantly toward the right side of the church, where the voice called from behind the pew. Pacey, dragging Joey by the hand, ran toward the sound and discovered who it was.

"Mrs. Leery!" Joey gasped. She raised her face toward them. Her left cheek was spattered with blood.

"Mrs. Leery, are you hurt?" Pacey demanded, crouching beside her. She shook her head, confused. Pacey motioned to her cheek and she raised a hand to it, feeling the wetness of the blood there.

"Mrs. Leery, whose blood is that?" Joey asked, frightened. She knew that Dawson had been sitting on one side of Mrs. Leery earlier, while Mr. Leery had been on her other side. She glanced fearfully around Gale and saw a crumpled male form lying in a pool of blood. Her hands flew up to her mouth. "Dawson!" she gasped.

"Mitch," Gale mumbled in a detached voice, shaking her head.

"They killed Mr. Leery?" Pacey repeated, his voice wavering. Gale nodded in confirmation.

"He was sitting right next to me…and he ended up there," she explained in confusion, pointing the body of her deceased husband. It appeared that she couldn’t grasp what had happened and why Mitch was lying on the ground.

"Where’s Dawson?" Joey demanded. Gale shrugged her shoulders. By that time, Mrs. Johnson, the organist, had arrived.

"Alexandra! Call the paramedics!" she yelled across the church. Alexandra, still standing by her microphone, nodded and raced off to the telephone. Mrs. Johnson saw Gale’s vacant expression and asked her to move away from Mitch’s body. Gale didn’t move; in fact, it appeared that she hadn’t heard her at all. "Reverend!" Mrs. Johnson called. He came over and she gestured to Gale. "Can you please move her somewhere safer? Keep her company?" The Reverend nodded and led Mrs. Leery toward an empty pew a few rows back.

When he came back, Mrs. Johnson told him to wait outside and direct the paramedics when they arrived. He nodded in agreement and Mrs. Johnson returned to Mitch’s body.

"Maybe we should wait with Mrs. Leery," Pacey suggested. Joey nodded in agreement and they turned to where Gale was sitting. Their eyes first fell upon a form sitting against the wall, however, and they rushed toward it.

"Dawson!" Joey cried in relief. He smiled weakly. "What happened?" she asked in concern, referring to the way he cradled his right arm.

"A bullet hit me in the shoulder," he said, grimacing while he tried to sit up straighter. "I think it must have ricocheted off of something. Luckily, it doesn’t look like it’s that serious. I can still give a thumbs-up," he joked, raising his right thumb. The effort of laughing at his small joke, however, was too much for him and he winced.

"Can you move your arm?" Pacey asked. Dawson shook his head.

"Not really. It hurts too much."

"Are you bleeding?" Dawson nodded. Pacey smiled grimly. "Jo, wait here with Dawson. I’m going to get help," Pacey ordered. Joey nodded and sat down beside Dawson while Pacey ran off.

"What’s my mom doing?" Dawson asked, gesturing towards Gale. She was sitting on the pew with her legs drawn up to her chest, rocking slowly back and forth.

"I think she’s in shock." Dawson gave her a quizzical glance.

"From what?" Joey sighed.

"Dawson," she began gently. He looked expectantly at her.

"What?" She took his hand in hers and gently squeezed it. "I’m sorry, Dawson, but they shot your father," she said somberly. Dawson gave a low whistle.

"Wow, it must be pretty messy," he said. "Otherwise, she’d be right there. She’d never leave Dad if he was in pain, unless he was bleeding a lot. She really hates blood." He glanced at the door, careful not to disturb his arm. "I hope the paramedics get here soon. If he’s bleeding that much, he’ll need a transfusion." Joey placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Your father isn’t going to need a transfusion," she said softly. Dawson appeared confused.

"If he’s bleeding so much that Mom can’t be near him, he’d die without one," Dawson said. Joey shook her head.

"No, Dawson. He’s already dead." Dawson shook his head.

"What?" he whispered.

"I’m sorry, Dawson," she murmured, taking him into her arms. He pushed her away.

"That’s not even funny, Joey," he said angrily. Her eyes widened.

"I’m telling the truth."

"No you aren’t." Tears sprung to Joey’s eyes.

"Dawson, please. I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this. Mitch is dead." From the expression on her face, he could tell that she was serious. He raised a trembling hand to his mouth.

"Oh God…" he whispered. Joey took him into her arms again and, this time, he didn’t pull away. She rubbed his back while he cried on her shoulder and the paramedics raced inside the church.

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