Joey closed her eyes and inhaled the soft scent from the flowering bushes surrounding the secluded area. She'd let Dawson walk her home, but something had felt unfinished, so she'd made her way back. She sat on the low stone bench, her hands curled around the back edge of it as she leaned back, turning her face toward the sun.

"I didn't think you came out here."

She gasped, sitting up quickly. Pacey gave her a small wave from where he was standing on the opposite side of the clearing. "Jesus. You scared me."

"Sorry." He shrugged his apology then looked away from her. "I thought you didn't come out here."

"I don't. Not normally. But this whole thing with Abby…" She shrugged and stared down at her feet then looked up at him. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged again and moved over to the bench, sitting beside her, careful to keep space between them. "This whole thing with Abby."

"Abby's death made you think about my mom?"

He ignored the skepticism in her voice and stared at the flat gravestone. "Your mom's the only person I've ever known that's died. Hers was the last funeral I went to." His voice was soft and sad. "Being here today just made me think about her."

"Me too."

"I saw you and Dawson come back here. I waited." He shrugged then realized that's all he'd been doing. "I figured it would be safe once you two left. What brought you back?"

"Something didn't feel right. Done." She traced a random pattern on her thigh, blushing but not stopping as she realized his eyes were following her finger. "Back when it happened, I swore I wouldn't be the kind of girl who came out here every week and told her stuff. You know, I wouldn't talk to her about boys or school or anything else that would be like pretending she was still around, still listening. I didn't want to be that kind of girl."

"What kind of girl is that?"

She tried to take offense at the question, but couldn't, his hushed tone completely free of mockery. "I don't know. It just seemed weak somehow. Like I wouldn't be handling it or moving on or whatever if I did that."

"So you stayed away?"

"Yeah." She grabbed the hem of her skirt, flipping it up then down, the nervous gesture holding both of their gazes. "But today seemed right. It just seemed natural to come here with him and just be."

"That's nice." Pacey smiled sadly. "I'm happy for you, Jo. Your dad back, your boyfriend back. All's right with your world, huh?"

"Pretty much." She laughed. "I never thought I'd say that. I mean, let's face it, I sort of put stock in my identity as the laughingstock of Capeside. Now what am I going to do?" She got up and moved closer to the grave, fingering the flowers on the bushes. "You remember that summer we all played soccer?"

"Would that be the summer that Doug got so pissed off at me that he wrapped me up in the soccer net and left me out on the front lawn all night?"

"Heh. Yeah."

"Vaguely."

"You remember the final game?"

"Not really." He grinned. "As I recall, I ended the game with a concussion when you shoved me into the goalie's box."

"I think I apologized for two hours straight."

"Pity I was so out of it I don't remember the groveling aspect of it." He shook his head, adopting the pose she'd been in when he'd first spoken. "I do remember your mom taking care of me though. My folks were, of course, nowhere to be found. And Dawson's mom was tending to his scraped knee."

"He wasn't even playing."

"But your mom was great." He sighed and closed his eyes. "She always smelled so good."

"Oh please. Don't tell me my mom was your first older woman fixation, okay? I don't think our tenuous friendship could withstand that kind of confession."

"No. Nothing like that, Potter." He rolled his eyes and lay back, his head resting on the cool granite, his legs stretched out well beyond the length of the short bench. "She just always smelled like a mom. Like soap and lotion and chocolate chips and laundry detergent. I always figured Mrs. Cleaver or Donna Reed would smell like that. And your mom did."

"She was a great mom."

"The first thing I remember, after the solid impact of the wood, was your mom bending over me and asking me if I was okay. She looked so worried and frightened and all I wanted to do was lie there so she'd keep looking at me that way, keep holding me, stroking my cheek. If you hadn't walked up when you did, I probably would have burst into tears."

"I can't picture you crying."

"No?" He turned his head to look at her. "Did you know she used to smuggle me cookies when I was grounded? She'd come over under the guise of visiting my mom and she'd always hide some away for me. We had this code and these hiding places."

"She used to do that for me too. Hide stuff around the house and yard so I'd have to have a treasure hunt." Joey sighed and kicked his foot, waiting until he sat up before settling on the bench beside him. "She loved you. Whenever I complained about you or slammed on you, she'd always laugh at me and tell me that one day Pacey Witter was going to amount to something beyond the small town scope of Capeside's citizens."

"She really said that?"

"Yeah." Joey sighed, sadly and happily all at once. "She's the one who made me want to get out of here, you know. Sometimes I'd see this look in her eyes that just seemed to say she wanted out. Not out of marriage or motherhood or Capeside necessarily, just out there. In the world."

"You'll get out and take her with you." He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "She'd be pretty proud of you, Joey Potter."

"Yeah? Well, I think she'd probably approve of how you turned out yourself, Pacey Witter." She grinned impishly. "Of course, she married my dad, so she wasn't the best judge of the male character."

"You sure know how to pay a guy a compliment, Potter."

She laughed and nodded, standing up and offering him her hand. "Don't get used to it."