Previously: blah blah, blee blee, whatever. Muchos gracias to Miss Alli for pinch-hitting for me last week, because, honestly, I think my head was about to explode in a horrible, messy disaster if I had to spend one more minute in front of my computer.
We open on the front lawn of Casa Leery. Pacey stands on the grass and looks perturbed, probably because he just lost all of Dawson's money, and he knows from personal experience that Dawson doesn't take well to losing things that he thinks belong to him, whether it's money or, you know, the girl across the creek. Dawson steps out onto the porch. "Are you ever going to come in?" he asks. "I forgot you guys never lock your doors," Pacey responds wearily. Dawson, not noticing that Pacey's acting as though he just ran over a box of puppies, cheerfully retorts that they're going to have to start, since he's got all of this film equipment inside. "Come in, I want to show you something," he says. Pacey closes his eyes briefly. "You okay?" Dawson asks. Pacey shakes it off, and swears that he is. He lies that he went out with some of the guys from work and "got a little caveman." Dawson says nothing. "But I'd love to see what you got going," Pacey adds, and heads toward the door.
What Dawson's got going is an exact replica of his old bedroom, which he enthusiastically informs Pacey "took forever." Pacey just looks around, dazed. "What do you think? You're the first person who’s seen it." Pacey weakly says that Dawson is "the king of procrastination," and then Dawson starts yammering about shooting schedules and locations and sound equipment and how he just maxed out three credit cards procuring cameras and whatnot. He then apologizes for blathering a mile a minute, and asks Pacey what's brought him to Capeside. Pacey sort of avoids the question and tells Dawson that being in this room brings him back to the day when "the future was a clean slate for all of us." Pacey, love? Pumpkin? Love of my life? You're nineteen. The slate isn't that messy yet. Dawson assures him that while the room may have traveled back in time, the two of them have "moved forward rather nicely." He points out that they've ended up doing exactly what they always wanted, and says that Pacey "made something of [himself]." Pacey winces. "And now you're making something of out of me," Dawson finishes cheerfully. Pacey offers that Dawson surely could have done this without him, and I'd like to point out that, at this point, "this" is "maxing out three credit cards," which isn't that big of an accomplishment, honestly. I've done it. Don't tell my mom. Dawson tells Pacey that he's trying to thank him, and that he's making him an associate producer on the flick, like being an associate producer on a home movie is all that impressive. At the very least, Pacey should negotiate points and land a piece of the back end (sorry, I'm in the middle of reading The Kid Stays in the Picture). Dawson tosses Pacey a copy of the script, and asks what he came to talk to him about. Pacey mutters that, as associate producer, he has some concerns about casting. "Especially the role of Pacey. That kid has some pretty large shoes to fill." Dawson snorts that Pacey is "letting the power go straight to [his] head," and gestures at a pile of head shots on his desk. "I don't think these amateurs know what they're getting into," he says. "No. Someone ought to warn them," Pacey says very seriously. I wish someone had warned me. ["I tried." -- Sars]
Over to Boston. A cab pulls up in front of Grams's house, and none other than Mimi Rogers steps out. My Mulder and Scully action figures -- who'd been previously lulled into identical comas of boredom -- sit straight up and yell in horror. "Oh my God!" the Mulder screams girlishly. "Evil FBI Agent Diana Fowley, Agent Mulder's Former Chickadee and Co-Conspirator of the Cigarette Smoking Man!" the Agent Scully helpfully and hysterically exposits. "I thought she was dead!" Mulder squeals. "Run, Jen! Run!" Scully advises. She looks up at me. "This show is scary," she says. ["Meanwhile, the Sars action figure wonders when Mel Harris became such a hotshot that she couldn't reprise the role." -- Sars] Diana Fowley looks up at the house and walks right up to the door and rings the bell. Jen answers, and smiles. "Did you get a haircut?" Fowley asks. Shout-out? I'll take it. Jen jokes that five inches "just fell off." Fowley eyes it. "It's very French," she finally offers. Jen waves her inside, and tells her mother -- because apparently Diana Fowley is Jennifer's mother, which explains why she had to escape New York. It wasn't that she was acting out, it's that the government was probably looking to have her abducted by aliens -- that she looks good. "The divorce must suit you," she says. "No, that's actually the result of her deal with the devil," my Mulder muddles. Who knew he was still so bitter? For that matter, who knew that I didn't sell the action figures on eBay three weeks ago?
Grams comes around the corner, asking Jen if she got the door. She stops short when she sees Diana Fowley. "Helen," she says. "Nice alias," the Scully mutters. "What are you doing here?" Grams asks. "She's here to kidnap you and deliver you to the government for mysterious experiments on your ovaries," the Mulder says. Helen claims that Jen called and asked her to come. "I was so shocked, I could hardly say no," she says. There's some business about taking her bags upstairs, and Grams tells her daughter that she'll be up in a mo to get her settled in. As Helen tromps up the stairs, Grams grabs Jen by the elbow and drags her toward the kitchen. "I know, you're worried we won't have enough food for dinner, but actually, I've already taken care of that," Jen yammers. "Don't pull your speed-talking technique on me." Grams says. And that's totally a shout-out, since I say that about Jen all the time. Hi, writers! I don't mean to be so rude to you all the time. It's in my contract! Grams demands to know the dilly-o. "I specifically told you I did not want Helen to know I have…cancer," she says, whispering that last bit, as people of a certain mindset tend to do. "Cancer," Jen repeats, loudly, and giving Grams a martyred look. Grams can't believe that Jen had the nerve to tell Helen that she has The Big Casino. "I didn't tell her. You will," Jen says calmly, and then tells Grams that she doesn't think Helen is, like, "Mary Poppins," or anything, but she certainly deserves to be in the loop. "And I can't do it alone," Jen says, giving Grams a long, pained look, like, Jen? Grams's cancer is not about you. Grams sighs, and they hug. "I love you," Jen says, and walks away. I'm already sort of bored with this plotline.
Worthington College of How Did It Get To Be Summer Vacation Already? Audrey and Jack Osbourne sit in her mostly packed-up dorm room. Jack fiddles with Joey's running shorts, and I swear to God he's either done this bit with the shorts before, or I dreamed it, and if I've become psychic about Dawson's Creek, I might as well kill myself right now. Audrey snaps at him when he starts to sniff them, but if she were really his friend, she'd say something about his hideous hair. My phone rings, and it's my friend Carrie. "Jack Osbourne looks like Bruce Vilanch," she says. "I hope they shave his head in rehab." And then she hangs up. The thing is, she's right. And what seventeen-year-old wants to look like Bruce Vilanch? Anyway, Joey comes in and tells Jack to stop sniffing her dainties, and Audrey explains that he's there to "meet with the dean and see if Worthington is right for him, or some such hoo-ha." Dude, that's totally a shout-out! I say "hoo-ha" all the time! Right? Shut up. Joey makes some whiny noises about how she can't believe Jack gets to meet with the dean when she had to kill her mom and send her dad to prison in order to get into Worthington, and then there's some other Jack-related business that I miss because I'm distracted by two things: Audrey's fucking awesome slingbacks, and Joey's fucking horrible hair. It is GOD-FREAKING-AWFUL, people. It is two hundred percent worse than it was last week. I suspect that she's actually just dyeing the bottom half orange on purpose. I think the hair and make-up folks are trying to make it look better by leaving it wavy, but…people, the only thing that's going to make Joey's hair look better is a wig. Anyhoo, Audrey and Joey share a moment as they realize that their time in "this particular room" is over. Audrey gives Joey her big pink pillow to remember her by. "Like me, it seems harsh and overwhelming at first, but once you give into its delicious comfort, you find that you cannot live without it," she says. Joey hugs her, and they agree that, you know, they love each other and whatnot. Joey reflects that she's never really had a girlfriend, "a good one. No one like [Audrey]." It is true that good girlfriends are very valuable. If only because it's helpful to have someone to bum tampons from and talk about boys with.
Elsewhere, Jen and Jack shop for dinner with Helen and Grams. Jack wonders why Helen is in town, and Jen tells him it's "a long story." She's sure that it will "unfold beautifully" at dinner (like, there's nothing more delightful than an Hey, Your Beloved Relative Has Cancer party), and she needs him there for moral support. Jack then very helpfully exposits that CJ is leaving the day for grad school in New York City, and Jen is very "whatever" about that and then runs away to buy string beans. Jack looks perplexed.
Joey returns to the Potter B&B and -- hold the phone. It's summer vacay, right? Then why is she wearing a coat? It looks about twelve degrees in Capeside here. And her hair! My God, her hair. She looks like she's wearing a black swim cap, with her orange hair coming out the bottom of it. It is absolutely terrible. Anyway, she looks all thoughtful and wistful and stuff. Joey turns and finds a script sitting on her stoop, which she picks up and flips though. It's called The Untitled Dawson Leery Script. Creative, Leery. She sits on the steps to read it, and she looks all, like, proud of Dawson or whatever, but I can't concentrate because her hair is seriously ridiculous. It's tucked behind her ears, and the demarcation between the dark brown and the orange is totally horrific. It's called a semi-permanent rinse, Joey. LOOK INTO IT. Jesus!
So, Joey and her horrible hair race over to Dawson's, where she stands in the front yard and stares up at the ladder leaning against the veranda and leading up to his room. She's wearing yet another coat. In summer. Whatever. I can't even think about that any more. La la la la, two episodes left. The Sad Piano of I Can't Wait Until This Show Is Over And We Can All Move On With Our Lives tinkles in the background as Dawson walks up behind her. "Go ahead," he says, nodding at the ladder. They share a genuine smile, and she climbs up the ladder and into his room. That was a nice moment…summarily ruined by the fact that, when Joey gets to the top of the ladder, her ass is totally hanging out of her jeans.
Joey looks around the room, stunned, and tells Dawson that his attention to detail is "creepy." She's stunned by how perfect the room is. "Now that you're here, it's just about right," he tells her, rather nicely.
In Boston, Helen, Grams, and Jen take tea and talk about Jen's hair. She finally excuses herself to wash her hands, telling the two of them to try to find a topic more substantial than hair or the weather. The women stare at each other, and Helen remarks that it shouldn't be this hard to make conversation with her mother. "Why have we waited so long?" she asks. Grams shrugs that you can't regret the past. "It's best to live the rest of your life as pleasantly as possible," she says. "Mom, you've gone soft," Helen breathes. "It's nice." She gets up and wanders around the living room, yapping a bit about Jen and finally getting around to thanking Grams for taking Jen in, back in the days when she was just a wee slut. Or, excuse me, "slut," since, you know, her naughty past is so not naughty. So, Grams shrugs that Jen just needs a little patience and "no access to public transportation." Helen seriously tells Grams that she can never repay her for raising Jen. "Acts of love never require repayment," Grams says. "I mean, what if I needed to call upon you? If I needed your help, your support. You'd be there for me, wouldn’t you?" she asks. Helen assures her that she would be, of course. Grams smiles and nods. "I guess you get to my age, you don't want to take these things for granted," she says leadingly, which prompts Helen to ask if everything is okay…with Jen. Grams, the moment in which to break the bad news gone, assures Helen that Jen is fine, then gets up to refill their tea pot. She looks apologetically over at Jennifah, who just shrugs.
In…Boston, I guess, Pacey sits at a bar and drinks. Enter Audrey and Jack, who greet him, surprised. Jack runs off to "take a piss," and Audrey and Pacey exchange pleasantries. She admits that she was off "drying out in Malibu," and then there's this whole boring bit about, like, downward spirals and whatnot, and then Audrey ends up telling him that he can't give in to the urge to become "comfortably numb" because that will only make things worse in the long run. The end. I mean, there's more, but I wrote Audrey off as character back when she broke up with Pacey because he had, you know, a job, and as far as I'm concerned, she no longer exists.
Back in Capeside, Dawson and Joey loll around his newly retro room and yap. I don't really know what they're talking about, because I've developed this Pavlovian response wherein I black out whenever they start rehashing their relationship. Dawson says something about this being "the lost year of Dawson and Joey" and makes some noise about how they haven't talked, and she says that talking to him just became something she didn't do, "the shooting heroin or driving drunk." Jesus, Joey, dramatic much? And my God, don't you people ever just talk about, you know, baseball? Or American Idol? Or the freakish weather patterns in Capeside? Anyway, Joey is still talking, something about how, "for the longest time," Dawson was the only person she wanted to be with. And how he somehow just turned into her "only one-night stand." Dawson assures her that he never meant it to be like that, and she swears that she knows that, but says that it seems insane not to talk about these things, especially now that she's back in his old room, where they used to talk about everything. "Sometimes the hardest things to say are the things that really matter," she breathes, and then they start talking about the only thing Dawson really cares about, his screenplay, which is apparently all about them, like, again, and then I really black out because Dawson + Joey + Movie = Coma. I guess Dawson wants to know if he "got it right this time." Joey smiles, and have her teeth always been so…snaggly? Seriously, they're completely wonked up and I don't remember that always being the case. Anyway, Joey and her wonky front teeth tell Dawson that he finally grew up. Yeah, because renovating your bedroom to make it look exactly as it did in high school, and then writing an entire movie about high school, and then filming it for, like, the seventh time is totally growing up and moving on. "I always wanted to think that you were this hopeless dreamer and I was the adult, I was the one who escaped. But I didn't escape anything," Joey tells him. Dawson points out that she got out of Capeside, which was her plan all along. "I couldn't escape myself, could I?" Joey asks, wistfully. Okay, Billy Joel. Whatever. Seriously, I can not stand how seriously these two take each other. Katie Holmes, by the way, looks simply wretched in this scene. She must have done something awful to the hair and make-up people on this show, because, in addition to the hair, she's got awful bags under her eyes and, I kid you not, crow's feet. She's like twenty-five years old! What's the story there?
At any rate, Joey then tells Dawson she's finally figured out that it's hard for her to talk about sex, or about "getting close with someone." You just figured that out, Potter? How'd you get into Worthington, again? Joey looks thoughtful (maybe she's thinking about not getting that tooth caught on her bottom lip). "And maybe I'm not supposed to lose myself. Maybe it's not part of the plan," she continues. "But then, I never thought losing you was part of the plan." Dawson makes the clichéd observation that sometimes you have to lose someone to really know what he or she means to you. Snore. "I missed you, Jo," he tells her. She looks down at the bedspread and tells him that he got the script right this time. "I missed us," he adds. They hold hands and look vaguely moony. Oh, whatev. We can't get to the finale fast enough for me. Did you hear the promo? Apparently, someone dies! I can't wait! Do you think it's possible that they'll all die? Cross your fingers!
Okay, so over in Boston, Helen is seriously wearing, like, a negligée to dinner. "Typical. Tramp," the Scully action figure sniffs. It's this low-cut, sheer white lace number, covered by a very slight bed jacket. It's totally inappropriate. She and Jack and CJ chat, and there's some confusion over which of them is Jen's boyfriend. "I don't know what the gays look like, these days," Helen twitters, complimenting both of them on their dashing good looks. Yes, because New York City is a Gay-Free Zone. On cue, Jen enters bearing snacks. "Technically, I am her boyfriend," Jack says. Jen sets down the vittles and announces that, technically, he's not, because he doesn't have sex with her, if you know what she means. CJ wonders if that's the only real difference between him and Jack, and as a girl who's had many, many gay boyfriends, I have to answer honestly, and say that sometimes, yes, that is the only difference. But it's a really important one. Then there's some tiresome business about how Jack is the only friend Jen will have in CJ's absence, and I'm glad to see the writers admit that Joey is not Jen's friend, but Helen is sad to hear that Jen has no one in her life. "You were always so popular," she chirps. "Yeah, that's called putting out, Mom," Jen smirks. My mother would have been appalled by that kind of revelation ["mine would laugh -- go figure" -- Sars], but Helen has no time to arrange her face into the appropriate horrified expression, because here comes CJ's Crotchety Old Man, Uncle Bill, screaming for Grams. "I've got some business with this skirt and I'm not leaving until I see her," he informs the room. I think it would amuse me to be called a skirt. In fact, I'm making a mental note to work more old time-y slang into my vernacular.
Eventually, Grams emerges from the kitchen and wonders what on earth Bill is hooting about, and he announces he's had a shamus on her tail. "You are full of malarkey," he yells at her. She tells him primly that now is not the time to discuss this, and he retorts that this is exactly her problem. "You want to compartmentalize things and it's making you sick and that's why you have cancer and it's eating you up," he yells. At the C-word, Helen and Jack both blanche, and eventually Helen and her hooters get up and approach Grams. Put those things away, Helen. Someone's going to lose an eye. "Mom, is this true?" she asks. Grams admits that Uncle Bill speaks the truth, but says that she didn't want anyone to find out this way. "Look, I don't want to watch another woman who I love give up," Uncle Bill says. And his sentiment is admirable, although his syntax is not. "Were you sent here to this earth to die alone with your knitting needles, or were you sent here to live a little?" he asks. Jen just sits on the sofa and blinks placidly. Grams waves her arms around and says that she isn't alone. Bill nods that he can see she's surrounded by plenty of people who "give a damn," and that he's one of them. She clasps his hand. "Grams, aren't you gong to thank Bill for doing your dirty work for you?" Jen asks primly. Jen, aren't you going to stop treating your grandmother like a four-year-old? She's got cancer, she hasn't had a lobotomy. Grams responds that she was about to do just that. "You mean nobody else knew?" Bill asks, and Jack tells the entire room that he's pretty shocked. "Jen, what's up? You weren't going to tell me?" he asks. Grams steps in and apologizes, and Jen explains that she had so many questions about how they were going to get through this that she just needed her mother's help. "Grams, you can't try and be a rock here because it's not making you any happier or any better," she pleads. Helen takes a seat and wonders what she and her hooters can do to help, and this is when Jen suggests that they all up and move to NYC to live with Helen. "I don't really even want to fight about it or discuss it, I just want it to be okay," she announces. Jack makes a series of thoughtful, semi-constipated faces as Grams sputters something about imposing, and Jen continues to explain the glories of New York: apparently Helen is five minutes from the best hospital in the country and she's got a big old house, and also, there's all that wonderful theatre! Helen readily agrees to this plan of action.
Over at Dawson's, the Head and the Hair tromp down the stairs and outside, where they find Pacey, who announces that he needs to talk to Dawson. Joey tries to escape, but Pacey tells her that she needs to hear this sooner or later. "Man, we were just getting back to being friends, too. Such a shame to ruin that," he reflects. Well, that's an optimistic way to start off. "Money. Money would ruin it," he continues, and then tells Dawson that, speaking of money, his is all gone. "Your money's gone, my money's gone, some guy on Long Island's money is gone," he says. Dawson merely raises his brows. "It's gone? That was all the money that I had," he responds mildly. Pacey then apologizes profusely and swears he never meant for any of this to happen. (And please refer to the recap in which I totally fucking called this. Thank you very much.) Anyway, Joey covers her eyes in horror, and Dawson merely mildly flares his nostrils. Man, Joshua Jackson is totally acting the hell out of this scene, while the Beek is obviously just phoning it in. It's honestly distracting how shallow and poorly nuanced his performance is, especially in comparison. Anyway, Pacey swears that he was just trying to do the right thing, but Dawson dismisses this out of hand. "You're always trying to do the right thing," he says. "You're always so eager to be the hero that you never see all the pieces of the puzzle," he says. Um, yeah. Because Dawson never casts himself as the hero. Pacey reminds the Head that this whole Please Invest My Money, Pacey thing was Dawson's idea from the get-go, so he really doesn't understand how that means he screwed Dawson over.
Joey, looking ever more horrified, suggests they go inside and talk this through calmly. Dawson snips that talking isn't going to solve the fact that he's broke, and Pacey snaps that they both know this isn't about money. Joey desperately yammers that she sees no reason to "drag up baggage from the past to fill in the moment," and begs the boys to keep this businesslike. "She's right. It is business between us, because God knows we haven't been best friends for a long time, have we?" Dawson asks, with the passion of a man ordering a hot dog. Pacey sadly agrees. "You want to know why we're not friends, Pace? It's not what happened with Joey, even though that turned my world upside down." Wait. What is this feeling, deep in my gut? It's mean. It's dark. It's thrilling…it's the hate! I hate Dawson again! I loathe him! I want to smack him! I'm so excited to be going into the finale with the hate again. Oh, sweet vicious hate, welcome home. Dawson self-righteously announces that they haven't been friends since the second that Pacey "made them competitors." Pacey, quite rightly, blinks furiously and accuses Dawson of "rewriting history." Dawson retorts that Pacey chose to turn his back on him. "And if you ever stopped turning your back on me, you might have realized that you and I are not that far apart." Yeah, except for the part where Dawson's parents indulged him to the point of letting him dictate their reproductive choices and Pacey's parents, like, practically psychologically abused and neglected him. "Spare me the speech, Dawson," Pacey says, theorizing that Dawson hates that Pacey "broke out of his little box." Dawson flails his arms around dramatically, yelping that all Pacey did was make some money. "How dare you! I was good at my job," Pacey squeals. "Then why am I broke?" Dawson asks petulantly. "Because, that's life!" Pacey yells. Joey just looks deeply pained. "I didn't make that choice. I have lost literally everything!" Pacey says. "What do you want from me, man? Does this make you happy, that you're back on top now? You always liked it better when you were in charge, so is this what you wanted? Does this make it all right?" he asks passionately. Those are some good questions. Dawson makes a mild face like he just missed a bus or something. "You don't want to know me, Pace. You wrote me off a long time ago," he sighs. Pacey shakes his head and wonders if he was just "out of the house" every time Dawson tried to call him over the past three years. Dawson sets his jaw and flares the nostrils. Joey tells them to cut it out. "I can't take this anymore," she whimpers. ["Oh, bullshit. You love it. You love the drama, you love being in the middle, you love the twisted attention, and if you really couldn't take it, you'd have left the two of them alone to talk in private like anyone else with half a manner. Shut up, Joey. And CUT THAT ASSY HAIR OFF." -- Sars] Pacey looks briefly at his feet, and then tells Dawson that he didn't mean to lose his money. "I didn't know that would happen. I'm sorry," he says. "Well, so am I. This was just a big mistake from the beginning, I guess," Dawson says, like the tiresome martyr that he is. Pacey just chuckles angrily and throws his arms up. "Okay," he just says, and walks off, leaving the two staring after him. Dawson stomps into the house. And poor Joey is stuck in the middle. Again. Her eyes fill with tears, and she shakes her head and looks totally disturbed. Nice job by Ms. Holmes. Great job by Mr. Jackson. CRAP job by El Van Der Beeko.
After the ads, Joey goes down to the dock and takes a seat to Pacey, asking if he's okay. "You don't have to do this," he says, "sit out here with me. I know you'd rather be in the house with Dawson, so why don't you just go and help him lick his wounds." Joey rolls her eyes. "Things never change here, do they?" she asks, exasperated. "No, Pace. These are the roles we chose to play," she says, answering herself. She metaphors that they've become "ghosts of [their] former selves," who are still mad, but they don't know what they're mad about anymore. "I'm not so sure about that," Pacey tells her. "Pacey, if I wanted to go back in that house, I would have gone a long time ago," Joey tells him. "Don't you know me at all by now?" Pacey gruffs that he doesn't want her to feel sorry for him. Joey exhales roughly. "I don't feel sorry for you. I feel for you, Pacey. God, can't you ever tell the difference?" she asks. Pacey just looks at her and sighs that he doesn't know. "You and I have had a very confusing run of things, especially lately," he says. Joey shakes her head and tells him she's beginning to realize that, no matter how much she's loved him, he's only going to remember the moments when she leaves. Pacey stares at her for a long moment, and then almost laughs and reminds her that "those are pretty much the most painful moments of [his] life." Joey shakes her head. "That's because you ask for them, Pacey," she says. Wow, that's a little harsh. He certainly didn't ask for it at the prom two weeks ago. ["For once, I'm with Two-Tone on this one. He refuses to be talked out of hating himself, and that shit gets old." -- Sars] Joey then explains that Pacey spends so much time expecting the worst that he doesn't notice all the time people spend loving him. "And Pacey, people spend a lot of time loving you," she spits. "With all due respect, Jo, my best friend just walked away from me," Pacey retorts, then corrects himself to point out that he and Dawson haven't been friends in years. "How does that make me a man with a support network?" he wonders. "Well, you have a person sitting right here, don't you? Of course, that's not enough. Not until you let it," Joey tells him. Which is a pretty good point, actually. Dawson certainly hasn't been Pacey's best friend in a long time. But Joey kind of has been. I don't know if either one of them realizes that. Pacey asks Joey to explain how, exactly, he "has her." She sighs. "Look, just because I don't fit in that place you want me to, it doesn't mean there's not a place for me, Pacey," she says passionately. "Does it?" Pacey looks out at the water. "Joey, this isn't your fight, anyway," he finally says. Joey agrees. "It's been over for
a really long time, Pacey, and it is up to you make it right," she says. Pacey admits that he doesn't know how to do that. "Well, you're going to have to figure it out," she says, telling him that ghosts can't be vanquished until they're at peace with what they've done. Or something. That metaphor was a bit of a stretch, really. Anyway, Joey rests her head on his shoulder, and Pacey crosses his leg over hers and leans into her embrace. A little tough love from little Joey Potter, there. Interesting choice.
Boston. Jack and Jen sit on the soda and reminisce. "We're family," Jen finally tells him. "It doesn't change." On cue, Grams enters the room and sits between them. Jack embraces her, and she tells him not to feel sorry for her. "Just believe in me. That's what I need." Jack nods, and swears that he'll visit her in New York. "That won't be necessary," Grams announces. "I mean, you don't honestly believe that Jennifah and I would leave you to your own questionable devices?" she asks. And blah blah blah, Jack agrees to transfer to NYU and live with them. And that plotline is finished until the series finale, I suspect.
Okay, no one cares about Audrey, but let's wrap her up, here. She goes to some Ovary-Friendly coffee bar and sings an Ovary-Approved song, as we montage though Grams baking cookies for Helen and her breasts, Pacey looking thoughtful on the dock, Dawson pouting in his room, and Joey sitting on a deck chair and crying. Another happy ending for the Creekers! Who would have thunk it?
A hell of a lot down. Two to go. Thank God.