She drives towards the police station with only one agenda on her mind: to deliver her sister’s message.

But somewhere in the back of her head she knows that she will probably ask.  She’ll definitely ask.  She tries to pretend that it won’t come up but he is her only link.  Her only connection to the man she misses.  She doesn’t think she’ll be able to leave without knowing.

The station is cool - a refreshing break from the temperature that is beginning to rise outside.  It is summer after all - and summer is hot and oppressive when you aren’t escaping from it out on a boat all season long.

As she waits for the young deputy she nervously checks her watch.  Her bravery is waning and she fears the longer she has to wait, the more likely it will be that the first thing out of her mouth will be about Pacey.

Just as she decides to turn around and go Doug appears from behind her and greets her cordially.  That is the first relief.  Not that she expected him to be rude.  She just didn’t know if she expected him to be nice.

“Bessie wanted me to give you these.”  She hands him an envelope containing names of people who have passed bad checks and a few who have left the B&B with items lifted from their rooms.

“Ah the fun of running your own business.” he says as he takes the papers out and starts to examine them.

She just nods her head as she hears the question looming.  Her eyes quickly scan his desk - for what - she doesn’t know - a picture, a postcard, a card with her name scrawled in his familiar handwriting.

But there’s nothing.  The only evidence in this entire room that Pacey Witter even exists is his last name gleaming from the nametag on the chest of the man across from her.

“Anything else?” Doug asks her, jarring her back to attention.  She shakes her head and asks if there’s anything that he needs from her.

“No - tell your sister I’ll investigate and be in touch with her by the end of the week.” he then launches into one of his lectures about the dedication of the Capeside police force to protecting their citizens.

She forces a small smile and tries not to imagine the witty retort Pacey would volley about now to shut his brother up as she announces, “I have to go - get back to work.  Thanks.”  She awkwardly puts her hand out and he shakes it - familiar blue eyes penetrating her every move.

She has barely taken a step towards the door when he calls out to her:

“Joey?”

She freezes and adjusts her face so he won’t see that she is about to cry.

“Yeah?” she says turning back to him, her voice a little too forced.

“Is everything OK?”

“Sure” she says unconvincingly.  Everything is fine except that her boyfriend broke up with her and left town to escape her.  And she hasn’t seen him in weeks.  And each day she wakes up hoping she’ll feel better, but she only feels worse.  Each new day is one that takes him farther from her - until one of those days he’ll be so distant that she’ll never get him back again.

As Doug watches her as she falters.  The words she needs to say come tumbling out of her mouth:

“Where is he?” she whispers.  Just saying it out loud floods her with relief.  But on its heels is panic that if he won’t tell her - nobody will.  She will no longer even have the hope she was pinning on this one person to hold on to.

“Will knowing that help you sleep better at night?”

“Maybe.” her voice is not quiet enough to mask that she is pleading with him, “Please - Doug - I just need to know where he is…just…a city, or a country, or even an ocean.  I have to connect him to a place otherwise he’s just lost - out there somewhere.  Gone.”

“I can't…” he begins but then seems to change his mind and simply says, “Miami.”

He’s somewhere.  He still exists.  He’s not so far.  And he’s in a place that she can picture him in because she was there with him.

“We were in Miami, last summer on our way back from the Keys." she chokes out the words.  Suddenly images of that perfect time race through her - in only a single year everything has turned around to something unrecognizable from what they shared together on that boat.  She grips the back of the chair and dares to ask him for a little more, “Is he working?  Is he okay?”

“I can’t answer that.  Look, Joey - I already broke my promise to him that I wouldn’t tell anyone where he is so please - can we leave it at that?”

She deflates at his words but she understands.  She doesn’t blame Pacey for getting away - she hurt him terribly and now she is getting what she deserves - to be left behind, to be left in the dark, to be alone and aching for him.

“Do you want me to give him a message?” Doug offers gently.

She swallows hard the words that threaten to escape - Tell him that I love him.  Tell him I am so so sorry.  Tell him to please come back home because I miss him so much sometimes I can barely function.  Tell him he is the most important person in my life and I am completely miserable without him.

But what comes out instead is “No.  Thanks for telling me, Doug.  It means…a lot.”

He smiles at her then, and she tries to return the sentiment, but a tear slipping down her cheek gives her away.

“Take care of yourself, Miss Potter.”

“I will,” she bites back a sob, “Thank you, Officer Witter.” and turning around she leaves the station.

Out in the parking lot she seeks the refuge of her truck so she can be out of the public eye when she breaks down.  Squinting against the bright sun she remembers she didn’t drive there - she walked.  She suddenly feels totally abandoned as the hot tears begin to spill over.

Immediately there is a reassuring hand on her back and a calm voice at her ear, “Why don’t you come with me, Miss?”  She lets Doug lead her to his police cruiser and as he closes the car door behind her she begins to sob loudly.

After a few minutes and some tissues from the glove compartment she manages to get a hold of herself.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“I’m a mess.” she mumbles.

“Because of my brother?”

“Because of me.”

They are both quiet again until she says, “Could you do me one more favor?  If you talk to him, could you avoid mentioning this little scene I made?  He shouldn’t have to hear it.  I’ve done enough to him, and I don’t want…I don’t want him to worry about me.  He deserves to be free of this - of all of it.  Can you do that?”

He nods and hands her another tissue, “To the Potter Bed and Breakfast?”  She thanks him and reaches for her seatbelt as he starts the car.

Gone.  To Miami.  Finally his new life has a name and identity.  And soon so will hers.  As she stares at the town passing by her window, she wonders if they will ever have their world back again.  The one that she cracked apart, and he tore wide open.