Dawson couldn’t concentrate all through his homeroom teachers euphemisms on “the wonderful Junior year!” He couldn’t concentrate all through first period contemporary literature and then during Pre-Calculus he found his mind wandering to remembrances of his and Joey’s childhood past.

Then, suddenly, he found himself in 3rd period Chemistry, face to face with the girl who had been invading his thoughts.

Dawson was sitting down in an empty desk when something made him look up. There, not 10ft. away, Joey was desperately trying to steady herself by grasping at a desk. She locked eyes with Dawson, hers widening like a deer caught in headlights. She whipped around, stumbling, running out of the room. Dawson looked down at his desk in shock. She was skeletal, that was the only word he could think of to accurately describe here.

“Ms. Potter…?” the teacher asked inquisitively. Dawson hesitated only a moment longer before dashing out to chase Joey. “Mr. Leery…! Well!” said Mrs. Langdon.

When Dawson got out into the hallway, he looked up and down, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Dawson swallowed hard. He knew he had to put aside his hurt ego to help his best friend. She’d done it for him more than once while he was dating Jen, he owed this to her. He still loved her, at least as a best friend.

The words of Mandira still lingering in his mind, he climbed the wide steps to Joey’s house. Ringing the doorbell, he stood outside, wondering how Joey would respond to him after running out of class.

Suddenly the door swung open, revealing a tired looking Bessie. Dawson noted the lines in her forehead had become considerably more visible. “Oh, Dawson. Thank God. It’s so good to see you! I was hoping you would come!” Bessie threw her arms around him, “Maybe she’ll…Maybe you can get through to her.”

Dawson nodded and stepped back, holding Bessie’s arms. “How is she, Bess?”

“Not good, Dawson. I can’t do a thing for her. It’s like when our mom died. Remember how she was? When she closed all the blinds and sat in her room for weeks? That’s what she does. The doctor’s told me she’s lost over 15 pounds.” Dawson watched the poor woman burst into tears. “Alex doesn’t understand. He’s so confused, damn it. This isn’t good for him either…”

Dawson swallowed the lump in his throat again, “Where is she?”

“In my room,” sniffed Bessie before grabbing her purse, mumbling, “I can’t be in this morgue anymore.” She lifted Alex from his high chair where he was eating cut up hot dog. She touched Dawson on the shoulder before dashing out of the house.

Steeling himself for the worst, hoping for the best he headed back towards the bedrooms. He found the worst.

She sat there on the bed, huddled up. She was as stiff as a department store mannequin, her eyes glazed. In front of her a television droned the opening credits to Mary Tyler Moore.

CLICK! Dawson had picked the TV remote off the nightstand. Joey continued to stare at the television. Actually, Dawson wasn’t really sure she was looking at the TV. Her eyesight seemed to be focused upon something invisible.

Dawson quickly reviewed his experiences from 3 years before. First step? Dawson reached over to the nearby window and snapped the shades up. “Well, hello Mr. Sun,” he said lightly, turning to Joey. She slowly turned her head to face him.

Her lips were dry, her voice cracked. “Dawson?” she asked unbelieving.

“Yeppers. It’s me! Time to get up and at em, Jo!”

“Go to hell,” she said, turning back to stare at the unknown entity.

“Now, Joey,” said Dawson, lighthearted as ever. “Is that any way to talk to your best friend?” Joey ignored him. “Y'know Jo, I love what you’ve done with you hair. When’s the last time you showered…a week…two?”

“Fuck you,” she said with the same blank eyes.

“Thanks, maybe later,” keep it light, Dawson, he reminded himself. Don’t let her see how scared you are. “Right now, dear Joey, you need a shower.”

Joey snorted a bit. She didn’t move. “Okay,” said Dawson, “We’ll do this the fun way then.” He reached over and picked her up easily, she couldn’t have weighed more than 95 pounds. Joey began screaming unintelligibly as he carried her to the bathroom.

Keeping Joey over one shoulder, he used his other hand to turn the water on, as cold as it would go. Determinedly he set her under the frigid spray. “Fun, isn’t it?” he asked, as she continued to scream. He was waiting for one thing. He listened to her ranting.

“Fuck you! What the hell!? We are not friends anymore, Dawson Leery! You turned on me, you never really loved me! You said I had my dad back, a real family! You lied! Now I don’t have anyone! You thought it was so easy, Dawson! Only one right answer, only one more thing! Fuck you! The answer wasn’t so clear!! Where were you…?” she screamed and hit Dawson over and over until she finally broke down crying.

This was the cue Dawson had been waiting for, for her to allow the tears to come over her. He reached over to turn off the stream of icy water. Gathering her, soaking and shivering, in his arms, he whispered, “I know, Jo. I know.” He sat in the cold porcelain bathtub with her, feeling tears of his own, as he watched Joey cry.

They must have sat there for an hour, him watching her cry. Finally, when the sobs deteriorated to sniffles, he said softly, “C’mon, Jo.” Ignoring his male hormones, which led him to look at her soaked through shirt, he scooped her up once again, this time more gently. Grabbing a towel as he left the room, he went this time to Joey’s bed instead of Bessie’s.

“Okay,” Dawson said, sitting Joey on the edge of her bed. “Let’s get you dry.”

Joey merely sat there miserably, here eyes and nose red. Dawson took the fluffy towel and began to rub down Joey, her clothing still fully intact. He couldn’t help but notice her skin showing. Closing his eyes, he bravely began drying her hair.

Finally, he walked over to her closet, pulling out a pair of jeans and a sweater. “Get dressed,” he said, “And then I want you outside on the porch,” taking no protests he left the room.

Joey sighed. Why was he here? Why did he even care? The thing she had said to him…the misplaced anger. Her body hurt. She was tired all the time. She didn’t have any energy. She knew perfectly well what she was doing to herself, she just didn’t care. Shaking her head, she slowly began to remove her wet clothing.

As Joey leaned against the wall walking toward the front room, she heard a rattling in the kitchen.

“What is he up to now?” she wondered. Slowly, slowly, she made her way to the porch, shivering. Her lack of body fat left her cold, even now, in September.

She bent herself to sit on the nice, comfortable couch on the screened in porch. She continued to shiver, until five minutes later Dawson sauntered out the door, carrying a tray and a quilt.

“How we doing?” he asked, back to the overly cheerful Dawson. A fight was brewing.

“C-cold,” Joey shivered.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling up a chair next to her. “But you needed some fresh air, Molly Sunshine,” he grinned—she glared. Dawson picked up the quilt and threw it over her, “ That should warm you up a bit.”

Joey burrowed herself in to the warm comforts of the blanket. “Next,” said Dawson. Here’s where it got ugly. “Dinner. Or lunch. Or breakfast? Which meal did you stop eating on, Jo?” Smiling brightly, he picked up the bowl of chicken noodle soup and a spoon. “Alright,” he said, “Open up.”

Joey turned her face away. “I’m not hungry,” she clamped her mouth shut.

“Well, of course not,” said Dawson, “You haven’t eaten in so long that your stomach’s the size of an apple core.”

Joey muttered a curse under her breath.

“I’m sorry, what was that Jo?” his voice somehow managed to remain cheery. Joey kept her mouth shut stubbornly.

“Now, Joey. You can eat this now, here with me, or you can go to a hospital and they can put a tube down your throat.” Joey glared. “I may not be your favorite person right now, but aren’t I better than some Med. student trying to learn how to insert a tube through a patient’s nose?”

Joey looked at him. He was dead serious. Finally, after a tense few moments, her mouth opened. “That’s a girl,” Dawson spooned some soup up and held it to her mouth. Her eyes still stormy, obediently she swallowed up the liquid. Again Dawson spooned up the soup, taking care to get some chicken and a noodle on this spoon. Joey again opened her mouth to accept the nourishment. Again and again Dawson put the spoon up to her lips until the entire bowl of soup had been consumed. As he removed the spoon from her lips one last time, he smiled gently.

“Good girl. Now don’t you reel better?” he asked. She nodded slightly.

Dawson bent over and kissed her on the forehead. Her skin was too cold for his liking. “Inside now, Jo.” Taking her hand, they walked inside, abandoning the quilt and empty bowl. Once inside, Dawson led Joey back to her bed. She stumbled once, but Dawson caught her. Lifting Joey back up, he looked into her eyes. She stared back.. For a moment, there was magic. Then, as suddenly as it happened, the spell was broken.

Joey braced herself against Dawson’s shoulder until they reached her bed. Dawson pulled back her covers and helped her in between them. Her eyes closed as she hit her pillow. Dawson smoothed out her hair and pulled the blankets up around her. Kissing her on the head, he exited the room.

Dawson returned to the porch to pick up the abandoned items. As he stooped to retrieve the emptied bowl and blanket, he glanced out to the creek. There, Joey’s rowboat rocked gently back and forth. He had a flashback to the last time he had seen Joey like this.

Four years earlier…

“Joey. Joey!” Dawson the 7th grader banged at his best friend’s door. “Let me in!” No response to his pleading. Dawson gave up trying to get her to unlock the front door. Running around back, he found Mr. and Mrs. Potter’s window unlocked. Climbing over the pane, he gained access to the house. There, wrapped up in her mother’s quilt, sat Joey. Huddled in the corner, tears streamed down her face.

“At least then she let herself cry,” Dawson said to himself bitterly. His thoughts wandered back to the television show that Joey hadn’t really been watching when he arrived.

“Who can turn the world on with her smile, Who can take a nothing day and make it all seem worthwhile,”

Dawson remembered a time when Joey poking her head through the curtains of his window had made his day brighter. He remembered how comfortable he was with her… and how much he loved her. “I want my Joey back,” he said aloud. “Whatever it takes.”

Too clarify here.. I don’t own Mary Tyler Moore. The song is the theme song to the show.. I’m sorry I don’t know who wrote it or who owns the copyright… SWF seeking anyone, any age to send her feedback…

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