SOS by Glory, Girl Writer.pdf - Dawson's Creek Fandom Wiki

"Come on, there, Sugar Ray Potter, let's see what we can do for your battle wounds."
He hooked his finger through her belt loop and led her into the small bathroom off the
kitchen. Closing the door behind him, he pushed her gently down so she was sitting on
the tub. "Well, Ms. Potter," he prattled as he rummaged in the medicine cabinet, "I
diagnose you with having accidentally hit your hand on an ugly drunk. For that, I
prescribe . . . no, not peppermint foot lotion . . . no, not Alka-Seltzer either . . . ah, yes."
He pulled out a Band-Aid and a tube of ointment. "Just what the doctor ordered." He
handed her both items to hold, and pulled a washcloth from a small rod by the sink.
"I can't believe I did that. One minute he's just giving me typical shit about my father,
and the next minute I'm turning into some kind of a crusading vigilante." She shook her
head. "What an idiot."
"Hey, don't knock that girl. I used to be crazy about that girl." He ran hot water on the
cloth and wrung it out.
"What girl?"
"Oh, you know." He walked over and knelt down in front of her. "Fifteen-year-old Joey.
Un-new, un-improved, plain old Joey." He held the warm washcloth to her knuckles and
slipped into a sort of wrestling-announcer growl. "Joey with a Y, and the Y stands for
'why are you still in my face?'"
She smiled. "I'm not sure I ever merited quite that description."
"I seem to remember a football player who still has the imprint of a Capeside High
School cafeteria tray on his forehead who might be inclined to disagree with you."
"Right. Tomboy Joey, skinned knees and all."
"It wasn't the fact that you hit him, Joey." He squeezed a little of the ointment onto his
finger and rubbed it into her scraped knuckles. "Well, okay. It was partly the fact that
you hit him. But more than that, it was the way you were. You just had something that
other girls didn't have." Bandaging her finger, he remembered how he'd struggled with
his finger on the day she left with Dawson. He looked up into her eyes, and gazed at her
for just a minute unguarded. "God, you were something."
She felt herself sinking into the blue of his eyes, and then felt her throat tighten. "When
did I stop being something? When did I stop being anything?"
Pacey watched transfixed as a tear hesitated on the inside of her eyelid. He had her
right hand in both of his, and he slowly turned it over until her palm was turned up. He
reached for the fingers of her left hand, and guided them to the inside of her wrist. "Do
you feel that?"
She felt the warm flutter of her pulse. "Yes."
"It means you're still in there, Jo. One of these days, it's all going to come back to you."
He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them. "It's all going to come back to you,"