Papers litter the green blotter - invoices, bills, ads, flyers - lifting slightly in the breeze then settling back to their places. He reaches for the glass again and drinks again, closing his eyes as he savors the smooth, rich taste of the whiskey as it slides down his throat.

"You're here late."

He doesn't look over his shoulder at the voice, recognizes it without looking. "Someone's got to hang out till the ghosts come."

She laughs, the sound throaty, and shakes her head, her honeyed blond curls cascading around her pale face. She sits opposite him and crosses her legs demurely, looking like something out of an old movie, a femme fatale. "And what if I didn't show up?"

"You will. You do." He shrugs and smiles around his glass. "You can't live without me."

"You think so, huh?"

"Know so." He nods to the other side of the desk beside where she's sitting. She glances down and smiles in return, nodding her acceptance and picking up the crystal glass. "I even know how you take your drink."

"You should. You served me enough of them."

"It's a motto of mine. Never let a lady go through life…or death, as the case may be, thirsty."

"Or sexually unfulfilled?"

"That was never a motto, just a side effect of my natural prowess."

"I see." She laughs again and lifts her drink in toast. "Well then, here's to your natural prowess."

"That's definitely something I can drink to." He meets her toast with his and takes a drink, savoring the burning taste as it slides silkily down his throat. She watches him before taking her own drink and sipping it, letting the liquid fire wet her lips. "Sometimes I wonder, you know."

"About?"

"Why you're haunting me."

"Do you feel haunted?"

"Maybe that's the wrong word," he shrugs. "But it's still what you're doing."

She gets to her feet, uncrossing her legs with leisurely slowness, knowing he's watching her. "I could leave. If that's what you want."

"I never said I wanted you to go." He closes his eyes and props his feet on the desk, letting his hands fall to his waist. "Ever."

She nods, sitting again as his voice breaks on the last word. "Most people, when faced with a ghost, tend to ask all sorts of questions. What's the afterworld like? What's dying like? Do you really play a harp?"

"What you have AA meetings for ghosts or something? Ghosts anonymous? Or is it more like Beetlejuice with the book?"

Jen laughs and leans forward, resting her elbows on her desk. "I miss you, you know that?"

"I miss," he opens one eye to look at her, smiling all the while, "your sassy mouth, the sway of your hips, those green eyes that look right through me."

"I always could read you, you know."

"Which is probably why it took forever for us to fall into bed together, huh?"

"I wasn't about to fuck another boy pining for Joey Potter."

"You can say fuck?"

"Just can't do it." She lifts her eyebrows suggestively and grins as he laughs softly. "Which really is a pity. Especially since you're sitting there, so helpless, tie all loosened, shirt unbuttoned at the collar…" She shakes her head. "Joey must love it when you come home like that."

"Wouldn't know." He smiles, though the edges are rougher. "She's off with someone else now."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I finally figured out, once I could have her on no uncertain terms, that she really wasn't what I wanted. It's kind of funny."

"Ironic."

"That too." He drops his feet down to the floor and leans forward, looking her in the eye. "So why do you haunt me, Jen Lindley?"

"Because no one else needs haunting?"

"I don't buy that."

"I already told you why, Pacey." She gets to her feet again, for good this time, moving around the desk to kiss the top of his head gently, like a breeze stirring his hair. "You'll figure it out eventually."

He closes his eyes until he knows she's gone then gets up from his desk, closing the window before turning out the lights. He looks back into his empty office and smiles once more.

"I miss you too, Jen."

2/18/04