Alex. Pacey. I can barely keep my eyes open. "Well, clearly I've got problems," Alex announces. Pacey mutters that everyone has problems. I certainly do, and one of them is how boring this plot is. Alex sobs that she could have killed, you know, a whole bunch of folks. "My whole life could have changed forever!" she sobs. Yes, and the people you could have killed? Would have been dead, you dumb git. Alex sniffles that Pacey saved her life. "What's it worth to you, Alex?" he asks quietly. She doesn't know, she mumbles. "Do you know why you're so good?" she asks. Oh, barf. Pacey doesn't answer this supremely Smurfy question, but does tell her that she can't go around feeling sorry for herself all the time. "It's never too late," he announces. "For what?" Alex asks. "For me to cram more clichés into this scene," he replies. Actually, he says, "To try and make things right." Alex cries and laughs and tells him that the saddest thing? Is that she "really does like him." Pacey chuckles and hugs her. What the hell was that? No, seriously. She likes him? He likes her? After all that? Oh, whatever. It's not like the writers will even remember this plot come next week anyway.
So, Jen phones her parents. She knows. She does. She'll talk to them later. She hangs up and shuffles into the living room, telling Jack that she's going with him to Costa Rica. "They sort of sounded relieved. Did I do the right thing?" she asks. Jack makes a face and tells her that he can't answer that. Jen's trying not to cry and I'm trying not to pass out from boredom when Grams comes in and asks for the update. Jen gives her the bullet. "Jack doesn't think that I'm doing the right thing," she says. Grams shrugs and says that Jen's parents have been "cheap with her," and that this invitation doesn't absolve them of their previous crappy behavior. The three of them have a complicated relationship, she says, and "it may well be unsalvageable." Everyone sits on the sofa and looks sad, sad, sad. Grams continues after our Moment Of Silence For The Death Of Jen's Childhood (Again), saying that the only person who knows what's "worthwhile" or not as far as Jen's Mean Parents go is Jen. "If your parents have truly found a way to love you," she finishes, "this won't be their last opportunity to prove it." Cue the hugging and the learning.
Time for the most hysterical scene ever. Dawson visits the Flash's grave and plops right down on the grass and starts chatting. "How's it going?" he begins. Up in heaven, the Flash licks a vanilla cone and snorts that he's dead -- how does Dawson think he's doing? "I've been busy, which is good, I think," Dawson continues. "Speaking of which, I lost my virginity. It was Jen." Hold the phone. Rewind. "I lost my virginity. It was Jen." To the headstone? Classy! Dawson chats about Pander and the movie a bit, and says that he finally gets to use the plane ticket the Flash bought him a thousand years ago. "But the real thing I wanted to talk to you about is Joey Potter," he finally blurts out. Oh, dear Lord. Also? I think you can just call her "Joey," Dawson. Poor Dead Flash isn't going to think you're talking about, like, Joey Tribbiani or something. Blah blah blah Dawson loves Joey and wants to be with her and loves her and wants to be with her and loves her! He loves, loves, loves her! Dawson sighs and looks at the grass. The Dead Flash has no response to any of this. "Okay, I'll talk to you later," Dawson finally says, crawling off the grass. "Don't go anywhere." And with that, the Flash returns from beyond the grave and smacks his son upside the head.