Her blonde hair was a mass of caked blood, the red rivers trickling down her pale skin and pooling on the ground beneath her. She'd managed to pull herself into a sitting position at some point, although now she was slumped, breathing shallow, her shirt soaked with blood and other substances he didn't want to identify, though his brain kept telling him what they most likely were.

"Can you hear me?" His voice sounded high and frightened in his ears and he winced, afraid he would scare her more. It was an agonizingly long time before she responded, blinking slowly, no recognition dawning in her eyes. "Jesus."

His cell phone was clipped to his belt and he wrenched it free, pushing buttons quickly and hoping he'd managed to get them right. When the operator came on he said the words clearly and slowly, all the while begging them to hurry. He set the phone on the pavement, leaving it connected in case anything happened before the ambulance arrived, and settled on the ground next to her, afraid to touch her, afraid to break her further.

She was sprawled against the building and he could see the dark red stain spreading around her as they waited. The blood changed his mind, forcing him to take action. He felt for the pulse of it, leaking from her body, beneath her shirt. He was careful to avoid her broken and bleeding nails, ragged from where she'd fought back. His mind lingered vaguely on old police shows where trace evidence found under the fingernails of corpses led to arrests and then he refused to think, not wanting images of corpses in his head, in his eyes, should she focus and see him. He couldn't tell for sure if he was helping or hurting her in the slim sliver of light that stretched down the alleyway, couldn't see much of anything at all as she turned her head and looked at him for a long moment.

As the wail of the sirens grew louder, she blinked again and started to scream.

"I'm sorry, sir. No one's allowed in to see her."

"But I rode in the ambulance with her."

"You're not family. You don't go in."

"Have you called her family? Her grandmother? Her parents? I'm her friend. I was the one she was there to meet before all this happened. I was late and this…" he gestured to the closed doorway of her room. "This happened. This is my fault; do you get that? So please, I'm begging you here, please let me in to see her."

"She's unconscious. And no."

"It's all right."

They both turned at the soft voice, cracked with sorrow. Pacey rushed to Grams's side and gave her an impulsive hug, pulling away as he realized he was still covered in blood. Grams paid no mind, pulling him back against her and burying her face in his shoulder. Tears he'd been holding back broke free and he felt himself give in, crying along with the woman in his arms.

Finally, Grams pulled back and looked at Pacey's face, her sincere gaze locked on his. "I'll hear no more of you blaming yourself, Pacey Witter. What happened was a horrible thing and I wish to God that Jennifer had never had to experience it, but I will not allow you to take the blame for what that…that…animal did to her."

"Mrs. Ryan?" A young doctor came up to them, holding out his hand to her. "I'm Dr. Martin. I was the one who was on duty when your granddaughter was brought in."

"How is she?"

He nodded toward Pacey, "You have this man to thank for her being alive. He found her and, had he not called us when he did, the outcome would have been very different."

"She's all right?"

"She's unconscious right now. It looks as if she had some severe blunt force trauma to the back of her head. I'm assuming that she was slammed repeatedly against the wall, although the police findings may differ from that. It's just my assumption, given the fact that the trauma is so evenly widespread. All her vital signs have stabilized and she's off the ventilator. Her lung collapsed, but we were able to reinflate it and she's breathing on her own now, so we don't foresee any trouble in that regard."

"My lord." Grams offered the words up in a kind of prayer, clutching Pacey's hand for strength.

"She lost a lot of blood. But at this point, we're fairly certain that there is no internal damage. I'm waiting on some X-rays right now, but I really don't think I'll see anything odd when they come back. Should that not be the case, I'll come and talk to you again."

"Can I see her?"

"When do you think she'll regain consciousness?"

The doctor looked at Pacey, taking in his disheveled appearance and blood-soaked clothes. "Hopefully soon, but I'm afraid there's no way to tell. And once she does awaken, the police are going to want to talk to her. In fact, I believe there is an officer here now who would like to talk to you."

"Of course." Pacey squeezed Grams's hand. "I should go do that. Let you see Jen."

She nodded, leaning over to kiss Pacey's forehead. "I'll tell her you're here."

"Tell her I'm sorry."

Grams shook her head. "I'll tell her you're here."

"Oh my god!" Pacey woke up to the frightened exclamation and the feel of Joey's hands touching him. He almost resisted the urge to open his eyes, not wanting to deal with everything that would come once they knew he was fine, wanting to just pretend that Joey's hands were on him for a different reason, that this had all been a nightmare. Instead, he squinted in the harsh fluorescent light and looked blearily at Jack, Joey and Dawson.

"Hey."

"Are you okay?" Her hands were still on him, touching where the blood had stained his clothes beyond repair. "Are you hurt? Did they hurt you too?"

"I'm fine, Jo." He finally shrugged off her grip, the desire to touch her in return, to feel real again, almost overwhelming. Everything felt off-kilter. Sore.

"How's Jen?" Jack's eyes were wild with worry and grief. "Is Grams with her?"

"I don't know." He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on his watch, giving up when he realized the numbers were far too small for him to see. "What time is it?"

"About five in the morning." Dawson helped Pacey to his feet. "We just got home and got your message. Rushed over here. What happened?"

He rubbed at his face now, slapping it in an effort to come fully awake. His hand smelled metallic, like her blood. His skin was burnished with color. "Jesus. I need a shower."

"You're okay?" Joey's eyes were haunted as she looked him over, seeing blood but no wounds.

"It's all Jen's. The blood. I assume it's all hers. I don't…" He shook his head. "Coffee?"

Jack walked over to the pot that sat on the burner, almost empty and giving the room an acrid smell. He poured the remnants into a cup and handed it to Pacey, turning back to make a fresh pot. Pacey choked down the bitter liquid and coughed.

"She was supposed to meet me at the restaurant, but she called an hour beforehand and said she'd just meet me at the bar. I told her I thought it was a bad idea, considering she'd already been drinking a little and I didn't want her to get involved with anyone I'd have to beat the shit out of." He laughed, a hollow sound. "She promised she'd wait at the coffee shop across the street with her friend."

He downed some more coffee, wincing as it burned its way down his parched, dry throat.

"When I got there, the coffee shop was closed, there was no sign of her or her friend. I was about to head over to the bar when something caught my eye. She'd been carrying her shiny vinyl purse when I'd seen her earlier and it was lying in the opening to the alley, reflecting the streetlight." He finished the coffee and crumpled the cup in his hands, surprised to find them shaking. "I found her about halfway down. She was bleeding and barely conscious, barely breathing. Her hair was…just…" Soft sobs caught in his throat and he bent forward, hiding his face in his hands, then jerking back as he was overwhelmed with the smell of blood. "She was covered in blood and…other stuff. There was no sign of anyone around, but she'd been…she's…"

"She's awake." The four teens looked up at Grams's voice, thick with relief. "She just woke up. The doctor is looking at her now and then I'm sure the police will want to talk to her and see how much she remembers."

"She's okay?"

She locked eyes with Pacey, knowing what he was asking and why. "She will be." She shook her head and looked at all of them. "However, she won't be up for visitors until much later this afternoon. So what do you say we all go back to my house and, while Pacey takes a shower, I'll whip up the world-famous Evelyn Ryan breakfast special?"

Joey looked at the door to Jen's room. "You're sure…?"

"She's got a rough morning ahead of her, one that she's going to have to endure alone. One that I think she's much more willing to handle alone. And after that's done, she's going to need some rest. I say we give that to her and get some ourselves. Then when we all return this afternoon everyone will be in much better shape to deal with this horrible situation."

"Not so horrible," Jack offered quietly. "She's alive. She's awake."

"You're correct, Jack." Grams hugged his shoulders. "Not so horrible after all. Now," she nodded in the direction of the main entrance. "Let's go home."

Grams watched as Pacey hitched up the sweats Jack had loaned him and tightened the drawstring. She walked over to him slowly, taking great care not to divert his attention from the other three teens gathered around the kitchen table.

He didn't look at her until she reached him, but she knew the moment she met his eyes that he'd been aware of her the entire time. Giving him a gentle smile, she put her arm around his shoulders and guided him into the next room. She led him to the loveseat and sat him down.

"I washed it all off," he told her softly. "But I can still feel it and smell it. Taste it."

"You mustn't blame yourself for this, Pacey. I won't allow it."

He smirked, his normally cocky demeanor tempered with the weight of sorrow. "She was so out of it when I found her. Barely conscious and I couldn't even tell where all the blood was coming from. I think I talked to her, babbling words or something. And then she looked at me. And she started screaming, only it wasn't even screaming. She couldn't even do that after the first one. It was more like the cry of a wounded animal. And I couldn't do a damn thing." The hot rush of tears stung his eyes and he wiped them away angrily. "I couldn't help her or comfort her. All I wanted to do was hold her and tell her she was going to be okay and I wouldn't let anyone else hurt her, but she kept trying to scream and cry, and even though she could barely function, she tried to fight me off like I was going to hurt her, like I was whoever…" He'd stopped fighting the tears now, letting them course freely down his face. "Like I was the asshole who did this to her." He sniffed, realizing what he'd just said and to whom. "Sorry."

Grams managed a smile. "I've already called him much worse in my head," she assured him. She looked up and nodded to Joey, Jack and Dawson, inviting them to come in. Joey held tightly to Dawson's hand, allowing him to help support her as she sank down on the edge of the couch.

"Pacey?" Her voice was soft and childlike. Pacey took a deep breath and held out a hand to her. Joey took it and, with a gasping sob, settled into his lap, crying against his chest.

Grams stood up and held a hand out to both Jack and Dawson. "Come help me with breakfast."

"But…" Dawson looked at Pacey and Joey, buried against one another. Grams shook her head.

"Come on, Dawson." She tugged gently, urging him out of the room. "Let them comfort one another. They need each other right now, just for the moment. I doubt you'll have to worry about anything long term."

"Am I that obvious?" She nodded, smiling just a little. His answering sigh was sad. "Am I that shallow?"

"I don't think so, dear. I think you're just as scared as they are and don't like giving up your own comfort. It's a typical reaction." She glanced at Jack. "Which is why I need both of you to help me do this. I'm afraid that I lean on Jennifer for my comfort these days, and without her here, I'm liable to toss the bacon grease in the pancake batter and put the eggs in the toaster."

"Don't worry, Grams." Jack moved closer and hugged her. "We'll keep you focused."

She ruffled his hair before kissing the top of his head. "I'm counting on you to do just that."

"And Jen'll be home before we know it."

Grams nodded, allowing her smile to widen, even though in her heart she wondered if the Jennifer that would be coming home was the same Jennifer they knew.

Pacey shifted carefully, guiding Joey's sleeping body down onto the loveseat. He eased away from her, pulling the afghan down from the back of the seat and draping it over her body. Her dark hair hid her pale face, her dark eyes rimmed with sorrow and worry. He brushed her hair back, away from her forehead and stepped back, his heart crashing against his chest.

What if it had been her? His mind asked him. Seeing Jen like he had had twisted him up inside and wrenched something untouched out of him. He'd known Joey since she was five. He'd protected her. Loved her once. Seeing Joey like that might have killed him.

He took another step back, immediately guilty. He held his hands out in front of him, staring at the darkened skin around his nails where the blood had pooled and gathered and refused to be washed away.

Jen's blood.

He nearly screamed as he felt the hand come down on his shoulder, whirling around to see Jack standing there, his gaze locked on Joey as well. "She sleeping?"

"Yeah."

"She's freaked."

"We all are."

Jack nodded. "Jen's my best friend in the world." His voice was low and gravelly from the lack of sleep and from the tears that were welling up in his throat. "I blew her off. You were going to hook up with her later, and I never once considered…"

"Why would you? Why would any of us?" Pacey spoke the words softly and with conviction, though he wasn't sure he believed them himself. "Grams said she wouldn't allow us to blame ourselves."

"Or each other?"

"I don't blame you, Jack." Pacey looked into the other boy's eyes and held his gaze, more frightened of the response than he wanted to admit. Jack shook his head, his lips pressed tight together to hold back any sound, any sob.

"Blaming each other," he paused, clearing his throat and breathing deeply. "It's not going to help Jen. She needs all of us to be behind her and help her through this."

"Which isn't exactly the same as saying that you don't think this is my fault." Pacey nodded, resigned. "I see."

"I'm not…blaming you, per se."

"Per se. Which means you do blame me." Pacey nodded, pushing down the flood of guilt that threatened. "That's…Well. I guess we should…let's just go eat breakfast and…" He shrugged again, unsure of what else to say. "What time are visiting hours?"

"Grams said ten."

"What time is it now?"

"Almost seven."

"Plenty of time to eat and get ready to go visit her." Pacey moved around Jack and headed for the kitchen, knowing he had to eat, just as clearly as he knew that he'd end up vomiting it all back up the minute he was back at his boat. He smiled at Grams and sat at the table. "Smells great."

Grams smiled her thanks and sat at the table just as Jack joined them. She held out her hands to both Dawson and Jack, who took them, then extended their free hands to Pacey. As soon as they were all joined, Grams bowed her head and started to pray, her mouth mumbling near-silent words as her tears fell, muttering 'amen' over and over and Jack gathered her in his arms and led her away from the kitchen.

He dumped Jack's clothes into the laundry and tossed his own into the garbage. Setting his wallet and keys on the counter, he walked to the shower naked and turned the water all the way to the left. He rested his head on the door and silently offered up thanks that the dean's boat had a shower so he didn't have to do all this in some god-forsaken, mildewy stall.

As the steam began to coagulate in the air, he braced himself and stepped into the stall, hissing as the burning liquid hit him, but refusing to allow himself to back away.

You were too late. You were flirting with the new waitress and you forgot about the time and you were too late. You figured she'd be fine on her own and so you blew her off for a quick make-out session just so you could feel her tits and see if they were real and while you were getting your rocks off some animal was raping your friend. While you were letting some girl you barely know touch your dick some asshole was slamming Jen's head into a brick building and fucking her and making her bleed. Some fucker was holding a knife to her throat and cutting her and getting off on it and you could have saved her, you could have been there, you could have done something but your goddamned cock was the only thing you could think about. And then when it's all said and done, all you can give a shit about is what if it had been Joey.

"Shut up," he whispered, grabbing the washcloth and rubbing it over his skin lightly. "I didn't know."

Jen's lying in a hospital bed and she's bleeding and she's scared and she's been violated and all you can worry about is your fucking ex-girlfriend.

"That's not true. All my concern was for Jen." The cloth rubbed harder now, scrubbing at his hands, his arms, his thighs, anywhere that her blood touched him, anywhere he could still feel it and smell it. "It was only once it was over that I let myself think."

And what do you think, you cocksucker? You think you don't deserve this sympathy everyone seems to want to give you. You think Grams is wrong and that you should blame yourself. Because Jack's right, isn't he? This is your fault. You might as well have been the one shoving your dick inside her and holding her down and raping her. You might as well have been the one holding the knife to her and scaring her and hurting her because he did it because you weren't there, you selfish fuck. He could have killed her because you weren't there.

The scrubbing stopped. The water tinged a translucent red with his own blood, the skin worn through in a few places, the hot almost inconsequential now. He sank to his knees, crying without reservation as the water beat down on his head in rhythm with his thoughts.

It was his fault.

Jen stared at the ceiling, her eyes vacant. Parts of her hurt, she was sure of that, though the combination of drugs kept her from actually feeling any of the pain.

And then there was the numbness. Nothing inside her felt real or alive or connected. She was sure there was some emotion she was supposed to be feeling, but she couldn't seem to care what it might be.

"Miss Lindley?"

She didn't recognize the voice, so she turned her head. The conscious thought made her wonder if she'd have bothered had it been someone she knew.

"Miss Lindley?"

It was a police officer, standing in the doorway. "Yes?"

"I'm Officer Stern. Would it be possible for you to answer a few questions?"

"I already answered your questions."

"Well, you answered questions." She nodded, still standing in the door. "But I have all new and exciting questions."

"Oh." Her voice was as flat as her eyes. "Comedy. That's great." She shrugged, looking back up at the ceiling. "What do you want to know?"

"Do you remember anything about the person who did this to you?"

"People."

"Pardon?"

"People who did this."

"There was more than one assailant?"

"One of them tried to hold me down while the other…did this." There was no emotion in her words, nothing giving her away other than the slight pause. "He kept talking about getting his turn, so I assume they eventually switched places, taking their turns raping and restraining me. Not that I really needed any restraining by then. Something about a rape and a stab wound that takes the fight out of you, I suppose."

"Did you get a good look at either of them?"

She shrugged. "They looked like college students. I saw them walking toward me. I was sitting outside the coffee shop on the low stone wall…you know the one?" She didn't wait for a response. "I could hear them laughing, joking about something. Then I stopped paying attention until something hit me across the back of the neck."

"One of the officers found a short length of pipe at the scene."

"The next thing I remember is that someone's holding my hair, yanking on it. And then I felt the knife."

"Do you have any idea why they stabbed you?"

"No." She started to laugh, the sound bitter, turning to a cough that forced her to grab her side. "I don't have any idea why they stabbed me. I don't have any idea why they raped me. I don't have any idea who they were or why they did any of this. Maybe they got their rocks off by hurting women. Maybe they didn't like my shoes."

"Did either of them say anything?"

"Nothing relevant."

"Anything could be relevant, Miss Lindley."

She looked her in the eye, her gaze as flat and lifeless as her voice. "One of them said I had a hot, sweet pussy. One of them said he wanted to cut my tits off so he could take them home and suck on them whenever he wanted. It might have been the same one, I don't recall." Awareness suddenly lit her eyes as she stared at her. "Do you think either of those things are relevant?"

"We want to get as many of the facts as possible, Miss Lindley, so we can make every attempt to apprehend the people that did this to you."

"You're not going to catch them."

She stopped writing on her notepad and looked up at Jen. "What makes you say that?"

"You could put them here in the room with me and I wouldn't recognize them. I doubt any of the physical evidence will prove anything unless you manage to catch them doing it to someone else and compare the two. Something tells me that these nice, college-student looking boys aren't in your big crime computer."

"You'd be surprised what we're capable of doing, Miss Lindley. And, as much as it saddens me to say this, there's a very good chance that these men will do this again to someone else. Someone who might not have a friend come along and save them. So anything that you can do to help us apprehend these people might save someone else's life."

"True." Jen nodded, exhausted. "But it's not going to do a damn thing about changing mine."

Joey stepped onto the boat and moved over to the stairs that led below. Creeping down them quietly, she peered into the dim interior searching for Pacey. "Pace?"

She continued deeper, feeling way too much like a trespasser. That's because you are, her brain reminded her as she moved through the dining area toward the bedrooms. Light spilled out of the bathroom door and she moved closer, hearing the soft spatter of the shower.

She stopped walking, frozen. She couldn't go in there if he was in the shower. He'd be naked and vulnerable and all she'd want to do would be to touch him, to strip off her clothes and step inside with him and let him press up inside her, hold her against the wall and rain kisses over her.

She took a few steps forward, pausing right outside the slightly open door. Steam pooled around her as she pushed it open further, her eyebrows drawing together in concern. Moving closer, she let out a soft cry then rushed to the doors, not caring that she got drenched as she reached in and turned the water off. It was ice cold now, the heat long gone and drained away.

"Pacey?" She tried to keep her voice calm, but she was sure she failed as she touched his shoulder. His skin was cool to the touch as she grasped his shoulder and shook him, her wet hair falling down around her face. "Pacey!"

"Go 'way, Joey." He refused to look at her, trying to curl back in on himself, pulling against her grip.

"Pacey." She released him and grabbed a towel, moving into the shower with him. She gasped as she saw his body, the skin rubbed raw, the washcloth still stained with blood. Tears blinded her vision as she sank down beside him, water staining the knees of her jeans. "Oh, Pace."

Her hands shook as she wiped water away from his face, drying him slowly with gentle touches. He stayed curled up, not allowing her much access to him. She whispered his name quietly as she ran the towel over him, careful to avoid any tender spots of worn skin. She noticed his body finally relaxing as his breathing evened out and he drifted off to sleep.

Sitting back on her heels, Joey stared down at him, her hands shaking against her thighs. She reached out tentatively and touched his cheek, biting her lip hard to keep her tears in check. When he didn't push her away, she sobbed and lay down beside him in the small shower, not caring as the water soaked through her clothes as she pressed her body against his as much as he would let her.

Grams walked into the room and sat beside the bed. She reached out and took Jen's hand, staring down at it as she held it.

"You're shaking, Grams."

"I was a bit worried about you."

"I'm tough." Jen waited until Grams looked up at her and smiled. "I'm more Ryan than Lindley, I think. And those Ryans…they're pretty hard to break down."

"That's true." Tears stood in Grams's bright eyes. "They say you can come home today, dear. Do you feel up to it?"

"I think so." Jen looked toward the door. "Are they all here?"

"Jack and Dawson are."

"Where's Joey?"

"She went home to shower. And then she was coming straight here."

"And him?"

"Him?"

Jen shook her head. "Never mind."

"Jennifer? Do you blame Pacey for this?"

"Yes." She sat silent for a long moment then blew out her breath, closing her eyes hard. "No. I don't know, Grams. I really don't." She shrugged and stared up at the silent TV. His fault. Her fault. His fault. "Where is he?"

"He went home to change. Although I imagine he more needed some time alone than anything. He feels horribly guilty about this, Jennifer."

"Does that mean that he should?"

"Only you can know how you feel about Pacey, Jennifer. However, if you do blame him, I wish you'd let me know, because if that's the case, I think it would be best if you don't see him at all. He's blaming himself enough and, as strong as he is, I don't know that he can handle the weight of your blame as well."

"I need to see him to know."

"Fair enough." Grams stood up and touched Jen's forehead, leaning forward to kiss it softly. "Shall I send Dawson and Jack in?"

"Yeah. I suppose." Jen sighed. "I have to face them eventually, right? And they're my friends so it shouldn't matter that I look like I just went ten rounds with Mike Tyson." She smiled weakly. "Send 'em in."

Pacey started, his body jerking as cool air settled over him, goosebumps standing out on his skin. He blinked rapidly, shocked to see Joey in front of him, her clothes soaked, her hair wild around her face, strands clinging wetly to her skin, a droplet, blood-tinged sliding along her cheek.

"Holy fuck," he shook his head, shaking Joey. "Joey? Joey? Answer me." He sucked in huge gasps of air, struggling for oxygen, his head swimming. "Joey?" He pulled her to him, her cool body against his, her clothes rough against his bare skin.

"Pacey?" Her voice was groggy with sleep as she whispered his name softly, her lips moving over the skin of his neck.

He pushed her away from him, still fighting to breathe. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I…" She looked around wildly, scared of the fury in his eyes. "I came to check on you and you were out." She backed away from him, as far as the small shower would let her. "I freaked out, Pacey. You were lying here in the water and bleeding and not…you wouldn't answer me or anything and I just…" Tears took her voice and she shook her head to fight them. "I was scared, Pacey. You were so freaked by all of this…"

"Of course I was freaked!" He managed to get to his feet and stalked out of the bathroom into the stateroom. "Jesus Christ, Joey, she got raped because I wasn't there. I wasn't there to keep it from happening and I sure as hell wasn't there to stop it, was I? So you tell me how else would I feel?"

"It wasn't your fault, Pacey."

"You know what I was doing, Joey?" He turned and advanced on her, guilt and anger in his eyes. "Do you know what I was doing while he was raping her? I was getting my cock sucked by some slutty waitress at the restaurant. She was on her knees in the employee bathroom sucking my dick while some animal was slamming Jen into the fucking brick wall and raping her." He had her pinned to the wall, not seeing the pure fear in her eyes. "So don't fucking tell me it wasn't my fault, Joey. Because, just like always, you don't know a fucking thing about it."

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she trembled, finally shoving him away from her and putting distance between them. "I know you." She sniffed and shook her head. "You've got some fucking white knight complex and you think that you've got to save everyone. Well, everyone doesn't need saving, Pacey!"

He looked at her coldly, dismissing her easily. "Jen did."

Dawson stood against the wall near the door as Jack approached Jen slowly. He took her hand and squeezed it, giving her a smile. "Wow. Grams wasn't kidding. You look like hell."

"Look, nothing." She laughed softly. "It's nothing compared to how I feel." She turned her head and smiled at Dawson. His eyes widened as he saw her, the dark bruises on her face marring, but not disguising, her beauty. "Hey, Dawson. I've never known you to be the wallflower type."

"The cop said it might be better if both of us didn't approach you at once." He gave her a weak smile. "And I thought Jack was probably who you'd want to see first."

"The cops don't know anything." She held out her hand to him and waved him over. "I just want my friends here."

"Liar," Jack muttered under his breath, ignoring the look she gave him. "Are you going to come home tonight?"

"They said I should be able to, but I think Grams wants them to keep me here another night. She's worried I won't be able to navigate the stairs." She shrugged, wincing slightly as a shaft of pain went through her. "Which isn't unfounded. But I hate it here. You can't sleep. People are always walking in on you at the most inopportune moments. It's like being in a fishbowl. People poke you and prod you and stick needles in you. They write stuff on charts that you can't see and they whisper things to each other."

"Feeling a little paranoid?" Jack smiled.

"And the nurses keep looking at me with this damn look in their eyes like 'Thank God that isn't me.' And they're afraid to say anything and they don't want to look me in the eye and they treat me like I brought this on myself." She shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't."

"We know, Jen." Dawson took her free hand. "It's not your fault."

"Thanks, Dawson." She looked past him as the door opened, her hands tightening in their grips as Joey walked slowly into the room.

"Hey."

"Hey, Jo." Jen relaxed into a smile though it never reached her eyes. "Is it raining?"

"What?" Joey glanced down at her clothes, still damp from Pacey's shower. She blushed and shook her head. "No. I…uh…" She cleared her throat and ran a hand self-consciously through her wet hair. "No."

"Oooo-kay." Jen winced as she tried to sit up. Jack shook his head and grabbed her bed controls and raised her. "Well, welcome to my new and exciting reason to miss mid-terms."

"I've heard of going to extremes, Jen, but this is a little…well, extreme." Joey moved up beside Dawson, barely suppressing her flinch as his hand settled around her waist. "All you had to do was ask for some study help."

"Damn. Why didn't that course of action occur to me?" She laughed softly, wincing and releasing Dawson's hand to touch her ribs.

Dawson looked down at Joey then over at Jack. "I'm going to wait outside." He moved around Joey and leaned forward to kiss Jen on her forehead, stopping in shock when she jerked away. He pulled back awkwardly, carefully avoiding her gaze. "Get better, okay?"

"I'll do my best."

Jack stepped up and kissed her cheek. "You want me to stay here tonight with you?"

"Nah. I'll be fine. I just need sleep. And drugs. The drugs are good."

He smiled and shook his head. "Don't go getting addicted now. I don't want to find you on some street corner at three in the morning begging for spare change so you can buy some ibuprofen."

She laughed again, tears stinging her eyes as she did. "Ouch. That hurt, you bastard." She waited until Jack left the room then let her smile drop. "Where is he?"

"He wasn't sure you wanted to see him. He's out in the hall."

"And what excuse are you going to give Dawson for being all wet? Your cover-up left something to be desired."

"Dawson's not my boyfriend and I don't owe him any explanations." She shrugged. "He's blaming himself for this, you know."

"Maybe he should."

Joey shrugged and looked down at her hands, dark against the bright, white sheets. "Maybe. That's for you to decide."

"I can't change how he sees his role in this." Jen looked away from Joey, staring out the window at the pale sunlight. "If he thinks he's to blame, maybe he is."

"He didn't make that guy do what he did."

"Guys, Joey. There were two guys."

Her voice dropped sadly. "I'm sorry, Jen. I'm so sorry that this happened to you." She bit her lower lip and shook her head. "But it's not his fault. He didn't do it and you don't know that he could have stopped it. But he did save your life." Joey got to her feet and moved to the door, looking back at Jen over her shoulder. "He feels guilty, Jen."

"He tell you that, Joey?"

"I saw it."

"You saw it? When? When he was busy fucking you in the shower before coming over here?"

"Is that what you…?" Joey stopped, stunned, when she realized that was exactly what Jen did think. "I'm going to go."

"Maybe you should. And maybe you should take Pacey with you."

Joey walked out of the room, freezing as everyone looked up at her. Jack was leaning against the wall next to Grams and Dawson was sitting on the floor, his head back, staring up at the lights. "I think she needs her rest."

"You're probably right, dear." Grams stood, allowing Jack to take her hand and help her to her feet. "Joey? Would you and Dawson like to come over for dinner? Perhaps we could all watch a movie and relax?"

"Thanks, Grams." Joey smiled and shook her head sadly, her heart sinking as she realized Pacey was gone. "But I think I'm going to go home and get some sleep. I've got an English paper due that I haven't even started."

"I'll walk her home," Dawson offered, getting to his feet and moving beside Joey. "I can crash at your place, can't I, Jo?"

"Sure." She sighed quietly and gave him a flat smile. "We'll see you guys tomorrow though, okay? We'll stop by after classes."

"Of course. You're welcome anytime." Grams reached over and gave Joey a hug. "No excuses needed."

"Thanks, Grams." Joey stood there as Grams and Jack walked away, feeling Dawson tense up beside her. As soon as they rounded the corner, she turned to face him. "I don't want to discuss it."

"You were gone for three hours."

"I said I didn't want to discuss it." She pulled away from the hand he lay on her arm and started walking toward the exit. "I went home."

"You went to him."

"So what of it, Dawson?" She turned around to confront him, stilling as a nurse walked out a nearby room and shushed her. Shaking her head, Joey walked quickly out of the building, ignoring Dawson as he hurried after her.

When they reached the parking lot, he grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. "I want to deal with this."

"There's nothing to deal with. Pacey's my friend. He was in pain. I went to see if there was any comfort I could offer him."

"And I'm sure there was." Her mouth closed into a thin line at Dawson's snide tone. "He must be grateful that, even though Jen's in the hospital because he wasn't around to save her, he's still got you willing to spread your legs for him. It only figures that the one time someone actually needed his fucking hero complex, he wasn't around."

"She didn't spread her legs for me, Dawson." Pacey's voice was cool and measured. "And even if she'd offered, I wouldn't have taken her up on it."

"Please, Pacey." Dawson turned around and smirked at him. "Everyone knows that these days, you slide your dick into anyone who spreads her legs wide enough."

"Guess Joey's just don't go that wide, then."

"Or maybe you were just too tired from what you did to Jen?"

Everything around them seemed to stop as Joey looked from Dawson to Pacey. Pacey's dark, blue eyes narrowed dangerously and he took a step forward. "Are you insinuating that I did that to Jen?" His voice was a hollow growl echoing with rage. "Because if you are, you'd better walk away from here right now before I lose complete control and grind your fucking skull into the cement." He looked at Joey who was grasping for Dawson's arm. "I'll count to ten, Joey."

She shook as she grabbed Dawson, tugging him away from Pacey. She didn't say anything as she pulled him toward the sidewalk, her eyes still holding Pacey's until he turned around and walked toward the hospital, disappearing from her view.

Officer Stern looked up from the desk where she was putting the finishing touches on her paperwork, her eyebrows rising. "Mr. Witter."

"My father's the sheriff of Capeside, Massachusetts. My brother's a deputy there." He cleared his throat and sank down in the orange, plastic chair across from the desk. "It occurred to me that I might be a suspect in all of this."

"Typically, you would be."

"Typically?"

"However, Miss Lindley assured us that there were two men who attacked her and neither of them were known to her."

"And you believe her?"

"Are you asking if we're going to investigate you, Mr. Witter?"

Pacey sighed, his cool demeanor slipping away as he rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. "Investigate away," he stated, his voice hollow. "Find me innocent so they'll all stop thinking that I did this."

"You believe that's what your friends think?"

"I believe that's what they're afraid of. They're afraid that I've been hiding amongst them. A rapist in the guise of their best buddy. Whether or not any of them believe it on a conscious level, I couldn't tell you."

"I think, if they're truly your friends, they wouldn't think that. Maybe they think that you're partially to blame simply because you were supposed to meet Miss Lindley there that night. But, I seriously doubt they think that you did that to her."

"I wish I could believe that."

"Do any of them seem frightened of you, Pacey?"

"No." He shook his head and swallowed. "But I haven't gone to see Jen yet."

"I can't tell you how Jen will react, Pacey, other than to offer you some examples of other girls that this has happened to. She may blame you. She may not. She may hate you. She may not want you to touch her. Or, she may give you a huge hug as soon as you walk through the door. There is no guarantee about anything, Pacey. Especially this. The only thing that I can assure you of is that you're never going to know anything unless you go see her."

Pacey chuckled sadly. "You know, I honestly never thought anyone in a police uniform would ever tell me something I wanted to hear."

"And that still holds true?"

"Pretty much. But you guys all seem to persist in telling me what's true and what I need to hear." He stood up and tapped the desk before walking to the door leading back into the emergency room. "I hate that."

"A lot of times? We do too."

Joey turned as soon as her dorm room door was open and glared at Dawson. "Just go the hell away."

"We need to talk."

"No. I don't want to talk to you. Quite possibly ever again." She shook her head, her lips pressed together angrily. "How could you say those things, Dawson? How could you look at him and say those things?"

"Don't tell me the thought didn't cross your mind, Joey. He was sitting there, covered in her blood, reeking of sex and looking guilty as hell. Tell me the first thought that went through your head wasn't 'Pacey raped her'. Can you do that?"

"I would never think that of him. And even if I did, I would never say it! Ever! Don't you see how freaked out he is about this, Dawson? He's wracked with guilt that he wasn't there in time."

"How could I see it, Jo? I'm not the one who went running to him the second I had the chance."

"I didn't run to him." She shoved the door, trying to slam it closed. Dawson caught it with his foot and walked into her room, shutting the door behind him. He leaned against it as she sat on her bed, burying her face in her hands. "I was worried about him. Scared for him. Can you imagine finding her like that, Dawson? Can you imagine what would go through your mind?"

He shook his head. "Jen isn't what this argument is about, Joey, and you know it as well as I do."

"No. This fight is apparently about Pacey and my relationship with him. Which just makes it the most ridiculous conversation for us to be having, since we're not dating."

"You're not dating him either."

"That doesn't mean that I'm not his friend, Dawson. Which, by definition, means I'm supposed to be there when he needs someone to talk to, or lean on…"

"Or fuck?"

"We didn't fuck!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you and Pacey make love, Joey? Was it transcendental? Was it the best sex ever?"

"He was in the shower, Dawson. He'd collapsed from exhaustion and I turned the water off. I got drenched. I covered him up with a towel and, while I was waiting for him to wake up, I fell asleep. That's the whole sordid story."

He didn't say anything for a long time, finally sitting down on the bed opposite her. "When I saw Jen, all I could think about was what would I have done if I had found her. And then I started thinking about what I would have done if she had been you. Just the thought of that, Jo…just the thought killed me. I nearly doubled over in pain when I looked at her because all I could see was your face."

"Dawson…"

"And then you left and didn't show back up at the hospital and I started worrying. I started wondering where you were, where you could have gone. And then I realized you were with him. I knew it just as clearly as I know how I feel about you, Jo. And, yes, maybe I had no right to be angry at the thought that you might be sleeping with him. But that wasn't what it was about." He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Because I didn't imagine you sleeping with Pacey, Joey. I imagined him raping you. I saw you again like I pictured Jen. And it killed me inside."

Joey's hands shook in her lap as she stared at them. "I didn't mean to worry you, Dawson. Or scare you. I just…he needed me."

Dawson stood and walked over to her, sitting on the bed next to her and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "I need you too, Jo. Just…just remember that, okay?"

She nodded, tears blurring her vision.

Pacey knocked on the door and pushed it open slightly, just enough to see Jen. Her eyes were closed, her face relaxed in sleep.

Walking into the room, he closed the door quietly behind him and moved next to the bed. Her pale skin was swollen, bruises and exhaustion scarring her features. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks, the flesh torn where she'd been held against the brick.

He reached out to touch her, freezing as she sighed softly and shifted in her sleep, the quiet cry of pain, pure reflex.

"I'm so sorry, Jen." He whispered the words, afraid to wake her, afraid to see blame in her eyes. "I'd give anything to go back and do it differently. Give anything to take this away from you."

He captured a long strand of blonde hair and rubbed it between his fingers. Someone had washed the blood and alley detritus from it and it had dried in soft curls.

"Please be okay, Jen?" He released her and moved to the far end of the room, sitting in the chair, hidden in the shadow as he watched her sleep. The one light in the room shone down on her from overhead, an off-color glow surrounding her.

Pacey bowed his head and closed his eyes for a long moment, his hand rubbing his thigh. The firm pressure dug into the raw stretch of skin, sending shocks of pain through him. He stared at Jen, her sleep fitful now, pushing harder until blood soaked the denim and his fingers; the cool metallic scent filling the air around him as he watched her sleep.