Jack. Interrogation. He can go as soon as he tells them his whereabouts after 5:30 the previous evening. Jack says that, as he's already told them, he had a soccer game.
Cut to Jen helping a kid thrash his way into a shin guard. She glances over her shoulder and warns Jack, "Militant pee-wee parents, two o'clock." Jack looks over to see a phalanx of dads approaching him. Jack rolls his eyes. The lead dad says that they've heard a "strange rumor" that Jack's going to use Night Of The Living Molly in goal, and they "can't allow" that. Jack shrugs that Lead Dad doesn't have to "allow" it, because Jack's the coach, not Lead Dad. Lead Dad says meaningfully that he represents the parents who kept their mouths shut "when certain alarming personal details came to light." Jack's eyes start to tear up, and he drops his head as Lead Dad goes on to say that it's not personal, and he's going to give it to Jack "straight" (snork) -- if Jack puts Bride Of Molly in goal, the team will lose the game, and if the team loses the game, Jack loses his job. Oh, for chrissakes. He's a volunteer, and I don't think that whatever local body governs the pee-wee leagues would permit vigilante homophobic dads to go around enacting purity laws on behalf of youth sports. In short: stuff it, Lead Dad. Jack says wearily that he'll take that "under advisement," and excuses himself to warm up the team. Lead Dad flicks his head, and the rest of The Homophobic Dad Gaggle follows him to the sidelines. Jen strolls up: "Whoo -- looks like Pat Buchanan's posse." Ha! No kidding. Jack fills her in. Jen gasps, "Are you kidding me? Jack, what're you gonna do?"
Swoosh back to the interrogation room, where The Flash verifies that Doug made Pacey get in the back of the car. Whatever.
Swoosh to the cruiser, where Pacey sulks in the back seat. Longish story short, Doug escorts a blind gentleman home from the grocery store. Pacey watches from the back as Doug helps the man inside. The Violin Of Gaining New Respect soughs, joined by The Piano Of Having It All Wrong.
Cut to Dawson, saying that he went back to the Brookshaven "against [his] better judgment." Yeah, really. Mr. Brooks as written would give him an ass full of buckshot if he went back there.
No such luck, though. Dawson comes in without knocking and leans on the doorjamb to deliver a self-obsessed monologue on how he saw Mr. Brooks's yearbook and read the caption about wanting to become a Hollywood filmmaker, and it's a "pretty striking coincidence" since he's wanted the same thing ever since he could remember and blah bloopety bling. "Good for you," Mr. Brooks says acidly, scratching his ear. "It scared the hell out of me," Dawson says intensely, because "I don't ever want to be like you." Don't worry, Dawson. Mr. Brooks is cool, so there's really nothing for you to fear. Dawson goes on to say that he doesn't want to "be the kind of person" who pushes people away; he doesn't "want to be alone," and he knows that Mr. Brooks doesn't want to be alone either. Mr. Brooks can't get rid of him, he says. Poor Mr. Brooks. I can empathize. Mr. Brooks stares at him as Dawson says that what works on other people won't work on him, so he's come back to finish the job Mr. Brooks hired him for, and while Dawson probably thinks that that's noble, it's really because Dawson couldn't take a hint if it arrived at the table on a bed of lettuce. Dawson takes off his coat. Mr. Brooks gets up from the couch, but doesn't say anything. What. Ever.