The Perfect Person

By Courtney

Rating PG-13

Summary: Set after 'Sex, She Wrote', two Capeside couples reevaluate their relationships. Rated PG-13e

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dawson ran the towel over his damp hair one more time as he fell back onto his bed. 'What a day,' he thought as his lips turned in a half-grinning, half-smirking expression. It had been quite a day. It had been quite a week. He was still trying to process it all, trying to sort it all out in his mind.

The encounter with Jen had started the whole roller coaster ride of these past few days. It had been an impulse, a sudden, crazy notion that drove him to her window that night. He wasn't quite sure why he'd done it, even now. It had felt good at first. Finally he was moving on, taking charge of his life and leaving behind that pathetic former self who would rather idle in self-pity and silent yearning for the one person who he had always wanted, his soul mate . . .

Maybe that was why what felt so right had suddenly felt so wrong. There he'd been, in bed with Jen, and things were getting heated. He had gotten more familiar with her body that night than he ever had while they were dating. And, physically, he could have. He might be above blatant sexual stereotypes in a lot of ways but he was still a sixteen-year-old guy. Even enlightened teenaged guys are still teenaged guys in some senses of the word.

So, there he was, kissing Jen in her bed. Rolling around, running his hands over her body . . . and he knew she would let him . . . well, he knew they could if he wanted it to happen badly enough. And that made it all the more stunning to his ears when he heard his own voice say, "Stop."

She was suddenly perfectly still. Dawson wasn't even sure either one of them were breathing for a second there. All he could hear was the echo of that one, single, shocking word that had just been emitted, seeming involuntarily, from his lips. He could ignore it, go with what felt right, what he wanted . . . but he didn't move. He just stayed still, looking anywhere but at the look on Jen's face. He was sure if he did let himself look in her eyes, he'd never be able to forgive himself for what he'd almost let happen.

Reality was rearing it's ugly head and Dawson was fast recovering the temporarily dormant sensibilities that had laid quiet long enough for him to get through Jen's bedroom window. He was starting to realize just what was going on and just how out of hand things had gotten.

"Jen, I'm sorry," he said.

"No Dawson, don't be sorry," she said quickly, too quickly, as she rose from the bed and scurried away to stand in front of the still opened window.

"Jen . . ." he began, looking for a way to explain himself but knowing there was no way to make what he'd done right.

"Please . . . don't," she whispered. She didn't turn around but the resolve in her voice was enough to quiet his pending excuse. She didn't want to hear his apologies. She didn't want to listen to his rationalization of the situation. She just wanted sleep.

She told him as much on her front porch a few minutes later, as he got ready to leave. She asked that they not psychoanalyze the recent events just yet, saying they needed to sleep on it first. He had agreed. Jen hadn't known that Dawson caught her looking slightly disappointed when his goodbye kiss only grazed her forehead. But she knew she should have expected as much. After all, she was just the fling. She wasn't the one . . .

Dawson sighed aloud as he tossed the towel he'd been holding to the floor and fell back against his pillows. He had screwed up. He'd hurt Jen. There was no way to fool himself into thinking otherwise because he knew the truth in his heart. Even if she was trying to get past it, Jen still nurtured mild feelings for the film-geek-next-door. And he had effectively rekindled those feelings only to turn around and squelch them yet again.

'Scum,' Dawson thought to himself with recrimination. He felt like a jerk.

But at least things hadn't turned out as bad as he'd been expecting. Jen seemed okay with things now. He still felt like the most horrible person in the world for leading her on the way he had, but she seemed to have forgiven him and all was well in Capeside again.

Well, scratch that last part. Not *all* was well. Abby and her little Inspector Gadget escapade had seen to that. Not only had that whole mini-melodrama made the situation with Jen ten times worse, it had also made Dawson realize just how much he was *not* over Joey.

Over Joey . . . a phrase that Dawson Leery was well aware was not in his extensive vocabulary. It was hard to believe that he'd ever even managed to half convince himself that he *might* be getting over her. You don't just 'get over' someone when you . . .

'When you what?' he thought. He wasn't sure. He had told Joey before that he loved her. And he'd known in his heart that he held those feelings long before they became a spoken declaration. But . . . she was with Jack. Even if she hadn't had sex with Jack, the fact that she almost did was enough to keep Dawson's pride from letting another profession of love fill his mind just yet. Even those hopelessly past the point of no return had to maintain some façade of self-respect.

Another sigh poured forth from his lips. Self-respect had been the last thing on his mind this afternoon in the rain. He had told Joey that she was a mystery to him. And he had been telling the truth. He knew her so well, but sometimes he didn't know her at all. It was ironic, really. Joey had wanted them to take a break from each other so that she could find her own identity, so that she could be her own person . . . but what she hadn't realized was that she already was. She had always been her own person. It was him that didn't know who he was. Without Joey, Dawson felt like no one. She had made his whole world, his whole life, what it was. And now that she'd been gone he was starting to see just how much he needed her. It should have scared him to come to the conclusion that his whole existence revolved around a single person that could make or break his universe on her every whim . . . but it didn't.

It made him ache for her. It made the hurt from her leaving that much worse and the yearning for her return that much stronger. It made him love her, more than he ever had, ever dreamed, or ever wanted to love her. And it was beyond his control. The writer, the director, the man who created all the plot twists was suddenly at a loss. The script was out of his hands now. All he could do was wait.

* * * * *

"Bess, I'm home!" Joey called as she entered the house and shut the door on the blinding rain that beat down on the tiny house and threatened to blow them all to Kansas at a moments notice.

"Joey, you're drenched!" her sister said as she walked in the room with a basket of laundry.

"Thanks for that keen perception of the obvious, Bess," Joey replied with a roll of her eyes as she started into the bathroom to get a towel.

"You walked all this way in the rain? I could have come to get you," Bessie called in.

"Well," Joey said as she walked back into the small living room and rung her soaking hair with the newly acquired towel, "I didn't figure you'd be here. Besides, how was I supposed to get in touch with you? The phones don't work around here when it's a picture perfect day, don't try to tell me Ma Bell got her act together and the infernal thing is working now in this weather."

Bessie sighed and nodded her head. "You're right, of course. Phones are out again, as expected."

"We should be used to it by now," Joey replied off-handedly as she set her towel aside and got up to go into the kitchen. Bessie followed her.

"That's it?" she asked.

"What's it?" Joey asked in surprise as she picked up an apple from the basket on the counter.

"You're not going to freak about the phone? Or the fact I knew it was raining and didn't think to pick you up? What's going on?"

"Nothing," she said with a shrug as she sank her teeth into the apple with a resounding crunch.

"You should wash that first," Bessie said.

Joey waved her hand in the air. "It's fine." She walked back to the living room and grabbed her book bag, her sister tailing her all the way, still intent on knowing the real reason for Joey's uncharacteristically even temperament.

"I'm going to take a shower," Joey announced as she started from the room.

"But, you just came out of the rain. You're already drenched," her sister pointed out.

"So why not go ahead and take a shower," Joey called back as she headed for the bathroom. Bessie watched after her, still slightly in shock at her little sister's odd behavior. Finally, with shake of her head, she decided that if she hadn't figured Joey out by now it was never going to happen and she went back to her waiting laundry.

* * * * *

"Umm, I love the rain," Andie said with a contented sigh.

"Me too, when I have such wonderful company to share it with," Pacey replied as he wrapped his arms more tightly around her and pulled her as close as she could get.

They were sitting in her car watching the rain. After they'd finally come up for air in the school parking lot, they had decided to try and find a place that was not quite so conspicuous to continue their "conversation". So, Pacey had suggested a quiet spot just outside of town where they could park the car and look out over the bay while it rained. It was quiet and deserted and absolutely perfect. For this last hour as they'd watched the steady downpour outside the car windows, no one had existed but the two of them. And that was just how they both wanted it.

"You know, I'm really not sorry," Andie said against his chest.

"Hmm?" Pacey responded. He was too caught up in his reverie on how good it felt to hold her in his arms to think about what she was saying.

"I'm not sorry," she repeated, this time pulling back a bit to look into his eyes.

"Sorry for what?"

"Sorry for . . . us . . . the other night. I just want you to know that I have no regrets," she said softly. Pacey looked down into her eyes and his gaze was so intense it almost scared her. "What is it Pacey?" she asked. Then, a thought crossed her mind and, as much as she wanted to will it away, she had to ask; "Do you have any regrets?"

He stared at her a split second longer before the question sank in. Then, he was quick to respond. "Regrets? No, of course not. My only regret would be if you regretted anything. And since you say you don't--"

"I don't," she assured him.

"Then, I guess that's all there is to say. Neither of us is sorry it happened. We're both . . ." he hesitated, then finally said, "happy."

"Are you? Are you happy, Pace? Because, I've gotta tell you, you're making me wonder. I mean, Pacey, you're the only one . . . I just . . . I know that--" She broke off, her voice cracking as her throat closed with her impending tears. She squeezed hr eyes shut to fight them off but it was no use. She turned her head away from him as the tears spilled down her flushed cheeks.

"Andie . . ." he said softly and reached around her to pull her back to him. But she struggled and pulled away.

"No, Pacey, don't."

"Andie, I didn't mean it like that. It's just . . ."

It was when she heard his voice crack that she had to turn back around. And the tears she saw gliding down his cheeks caught her off guard. "Pacey . . . tell me . . ." she whispered as she moved back to his side. She laced her fingers through his and laid a hand on his cheek to turn his face to hers. "Talk to me, Pace," she urged softly.

"I love you, Andie. I love you and it scares the hell out of me," he said quietly, still avoiding her eyes.

"Pacey, we just went through this. I thought we talked about this at the school this afternoon."

"I know, it's just . . . the more I think about it, the more afraid I am."

"What's there to be afraid of?" she asked gently.

He sighed and finally looked her in the eyes. His voice was a hoarse, tear-strained whisper as he said, "That you won't love me back."

"Oh Pacey," she said as she pulled him quickly to her. His head rested on her shoulder and her hands stroked his back as she said, "How could I not love you back?"

"It's always been easy for everyone else," he told her sadly.

She pulled back and looked him in the eyes again. "This is about your dad," she realized even as she spoke the words.

"This is about everyone in my life," he said. A deep, resigning sigh escaped him as he said, "Look, Andie, I don't want to lay the poor-pitiful-Pacey routine on you. I'll be the first to admit that my life could be a hell of a lot worse. I go to a good school, I live in a nice enough town, I don't worry much about money, I have great friends . . . and I have you," he added. "But, sometimes when I get in my really self-deprecating moods, I start thinking about all the things I don't have. It's stupid and selfish and not something I usually tell anyone but, well, you asked so . . ."

"Pacey, I *want* you to tell me," she assured him. "And I don't think you are being stupid or selfish or any of that. I want you to be able to talk to me. About anything," she said.

He nodded, but there was a long silence before he finally continued. "He hates me," he said. Andie didn't need to ask whom he was talking about. She knew all too well. "All he ever does is tell me I'm a screw up and that nothing I do is right. I'm never good enough for him. I'll never *be* good enough."

Andie pulled him close to her again and felt his silent tears soak through her shirt. She felt the tremors run through him as he shook with not only tears, but with the torture of believing he could never be the son his father wanted. He would never measure up in his father's eyes, and she knew that tore him apart, even if he tried to act like it didn't bother him.

"Why can't he just love me, Andie? What did I do?" His voice sounded small and fragile against her shoulder, like the voice of a child who couldn't understand what he'd done wrong. It broke Andie's heart. And it made her hate Mr. Witter for doing this to his youngest son. No one deserved to be treated as Pacey was by his or her own father.

Andie didn't know what to say. What could she say? She knew her words would only make him feel worse. The best thing she could do for him now was just be there. He needed someone that was going to stick around no matter what. And Andie was glad of that, because she was never going to let go.

* * * * *

"Dawson!" he heard his mother call up the stairs. He'd just heard the doorbell ring so he figured he must have a visitor. 'Please let it be her,' he thought silently as he started out of his room and headed downstairs. He was silently praying that he'd see Joey sitting on the sofa waiting for him. But, one look at the girl in his living room shot those hopes down. It wasn't Joey. It was Jen.

"Hi Jen," he said, trying to keep the disappointment from seeping into his tone.

"Hey Dawson," she said as she stood up. She sounded nervous. "Um, could we talk?"

"Uh, sure," he replied. Talk? What did she want to talk about first? How much of a jerk he was or how she hated him and never wanted to see him again? Well, he reasoned, she could probably fit all of those things into one argument if she wanted to.

"Let's take a walk," she suggested. He nodded his agreement and followed her outside. At least it had stopped raining finally.

They walked in silence for a while. Dawson didn't want to be the first to speak. Jen obviously had something to say; he owed it to her to allow her to say it. Even if what she wanted to say was that he was an ass and she wanted him to leave her the hell alone. He figured he deserved at least that.

"I've been thinking about the other night," she finally said as they walked slowly around the water's edge together.

'Uh oh, here it comes,' Dawson thought but he forced himself to remain silent and listen to what she had to say.

"It was wrong, Dawson. We both know that. I won't lie; at the time I was glad it was happening. But now . . . well, it was a mistake," she finally said.

"My mistake," he corrected her.

"No," she looked up at him and stopped walking. "*Our* mistake Dawson. I don't blame you anymore than I blame myself. I knew we shouldn't have been doing that stuff, but I let it happen. If I had told you to go home I know you would have."

"Jen, you are not to blame at all . . ." he started.

"Dawson, please. I'm a big girl. And I know what happened. You didn't tie me to the bed. I could have easily told you to leave. But, I didn't. See, I have this stupid little preoccupation with you for some reason. And when you came to me like that . . . well, my mind just went on autopilot for a minute there.

"But, I'm glad nothing happened, Dawson. It wasn't right, and we both would have regretted it later. It's good that things ended when they did."

Dawson was shocked. Was she saying that she didn't hate him? He could hardly believe it. He'd expected to come out here with her and get slugged, but all Jen seemed to be doing was passing half the blame to herself.

"I'm sorry, Jen . . ."

"No, I'm sorry, Dawson. I'm sorry we let something almost ruin our friendship. We are still friends, right?" she asked hopefully.

"Friends?" he asked. "Yes, of course. That is, if you still want to be my friend. I kind of figured that after the other night . . ."

"I still want to be your friend, Dawson," she assured him with a smile. "I just think we should keep it that way . . . friends."

"Yeah . . ." Dawson looked down at the ground, trying to decide what he should say next. "Thanks Jen," he finally said.

"Thanks for what?" she asked.

"For not hating me. For still wanting to be friends, even after the way I acted. For making this a lot easier than I expected or deserved it to be." He looked back up at her with a smile and added, "And for not punching me as soon as we got outside."

She laughed at this, the tension between then finally seeming to dissolve as she said, "Believe me Leery, it was tempting." He laughed back and they continued their walk.

* * * * *

'So, today was a weird day,' Joey wrote. 'Last night's little performance by Abby and Chris didn't turn out quite as awful as I had suspected it would. She didn't end up giving the presentation, a fact which made all of us sigh with relief I'm sure. I'd never tell a living soul this, but maybe Abby Morgan isn't as bad as I thought. Ugh, did I really just write that? God, I hope *no one* ever gets the opportunity to read those words.

'Anyway, I think things are over between Jack and me. We talked at school and we both kind of agreed that it wasn't working out. I have to say I'm kind of torn on that decision though. I mean, I agree that we don't seem to be as compatible as I had thought. And I think Jack needs to do a lot of soul searching before he can really have a serious relationship with anyone else. He's got a lot to work out with himself first. Still though, I'll miss him. I know we said we'd stay friends, but that never seems to work out the way one would hope. Just look at how things ended up with Dawson and I . . .

'Ugh, another subject that seems to have me crazed lately. What is it with Dawson Leery and me? How long have I known the guy? Fifteen years? Jeez, and he still manages to shock me every once in a while. I'm still reeling about the whole Jen thing. I know I have no right to be angry or upset that he almost slept with her. I mean, I almost slept with Jack. But, it still hurts me. I guess when it comes right down to it, I just imagined Dawson would pick someone else as his first.

'Who exactly am I trying to kid here? I know who I think his first should be. It's just like I told him in the hallway this afternoon. It's not about the perfect timing and it's not about the perfect setting. It's about the perfect person. And even if my head leads me to a different conclusion sometimes, I think my heart knows that I already know who my perfect person is. I think I've always known.'

She set down her pen and closed her journal, returning it to its usual hiding place. Spilling her guts on paper usually helped her to sort things out, but today even confession didn't seem to resolve the confusion that plagued her. She knew why, of course. She was well aware that the nameless someone she wrote to in that book was not the one she should be professing her true feelings to. She should be telling him, she should be telling Dawson.

But how could she do that now? How, after all the fuss she had put up about needing time and space and after the whole episode with she and Jack and he and Jen was she supposed to tell him that she had changed her mind? She couldn't just say, 'Dawson, I know I broke up with you and that I've been spending my time making out with some guy I just met, but I've decided that I've changed my mind and I want you back.' Yeah, right. And Dawson was just expected to fall back into her arms like the last month had never even happened? Not likely.

Still, there had to be a way to make things work out. The fact of the matter was that she was no longer with Jack. And she was pretty sure that Dawson and Jen never really had anything going other than a thwarted attempt at something they both now regretted. So, what was stopping she and Dawson from giving it another try? That seemed to be the 64-thousand-dollar question these days. She just hoped she found the answer soon.

* * * * *

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Andie asked as she and Pacey sat in her car in his driveway. He didn't look too thrilled at the prospect of going inside; especially since his dad's police cruiser was parked in the driveway.

"I'll be okay," he insisted, though he wasn't able to completely hide the uncertainty that tinged his voice.

She reached over and clasped his hand in hers, bringing it to her mouth to kiss his knuckles gently. "Call me if you need anything, promise?"

He looked over at her and had to smile. He could no longer tell himself that no one in the world cared. She cared, and that might just be enough. "I promise," he said.

She smiled sweetly and tugged him closer for one last kiss. When their lips parted, she whispered, "I love you, Pacey, don't ever forget that."

In the same whispering tone, he said, "I'd never even try."

* * * * *

"Joey! Dinner!" Joey heard her sister call from the kitchen. She set aside the homework she'd been trying to work on and got up to wash her hands. When she finally entered the kitchen, Bessie was at the table trying to get Alex to eat some mushy looking orange goo.

"Ew, I hope we're not eating the same thing he is," Joey said as she walked to the stove to fix her plate.

"No, we are having spaghetti. But Alex likes strained carrots, don't you Alex?" she cooed at the baby. In response, orange muss oozed from his mouth and onto the high chair tray.

"Yeah, he seems to be enjoying it alright," Joey replied sarcastically as she sat down across from Bessie.

"Well, nice to see the caustic wit has returned. I was getting worried about you little sister," she commented as she tried to coax another spoonful of carrots into the baby's tightly clamped mouth.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Joey asked, trying to sound casual though she knew this had to do with her enthusiasm after school that day.

"Are you kidding me, Jo? You were on cloud nine when you walked in today. I thought about calling in a priest to do an exorcism for a second there."

"Ha, ha, very funny," Joey said dryly.

"So, are you going to tell me what's going on or not?" Bessie asked.

"Be blunt why don't you," Joey mumbled.

"Look, if you don't want to tell, fine . . ."

"No, okay, okay, I'll tell you. But you have to promise--"

"Not to tell anyone, I know, I know. Come on Joey, who am I going to tell? Now, talk," her sister said.

"Okay. Well, Dawson walked me home from school. Or, actually we walked home together. He went to his house and I walked the rest of the way here by myself."

Bessie set down Alex's spoon and looked up with a smirk. "And?"

"And what?"

"And, what happened on the walk home?"

"Nothing *happened*. We talked. It was nice."

"So, does this mean you and Dawson are back together or what?" she asked.

"You can wipe that stupid grin off your face, Bess. We're not together. He's my friend, just like he always has been."

"Uh huh, and I suppose that's what triggered the Pollyanna routine this afternoon, then?"

"I . . ." she wasn't quite sure how to answer. Finally, she said, "I'm just glad to have my friend back. That's all we are. Friends."

"Yeah, okay sis, whatever you say," Bessie said as she resumed her daunting task of making strained carrots seem like the most delicious thing in existence. Joey stopped paying attention to her sister and nephew as well as to the untouched plate of spaghetti in front of her. Her mind was on other things . . . and other people.

* * * * *

Dawson sat on his bed and stared at the poster-covered walls around him. How many movie nights had he and Joey spent here together? How many times had they sat together on this very bed and watched E.T.? It seemed like a million, but now Dawson had trouble remembering clearly even one of those nights. It seemed like a hundred years since Joey had been in this room, on this bed . . . in his arms.

He was beginning to think that dating his best friend had been his worst mistake. He didn't want to regret it, but he was starting to despite himself. After all, if they'd never started dating she'd still be spending movie nights with him, even if she were spending her other nights with Jack McPhee or some other equally unimaginable Capeside male. Dawson didn't hate Jack, he really didn't. But the thought of Jack touching Joey, *his* Joey, made his skin crawl. Every time he thought about it he just felt the urge to punch something really hard.

He sighed. Actually, his assumption of the situation was wrong. If he and Joey hadn't started dating she wouldn't still be spending movie nights with him, he realized. She wouldn't be dating Jack either. She'd be thousands of miles away, studying in France. That was a scary thought. Maybe losing her to Jack wasn't so bad after all. At least she was still around. He didn't know what he'd do if she ever actually left. Not seeing her much lately had been bad enough. But he knew that, if he really needed her, Joey was always there. It had been the only comfort he'd had sometimes over this past month.

He finally decided that solitary thought was getting him nowhere. It was only 9 o'clock on a Friday night, but maybe he'd just be better off calling it a night. Besides, at least in his dreams, Joey would be there.

* * * * *

Andie heard a sound at her window and turned from the movie she was half paying attention to. She quickly got up from her bed and turned off the TV to listen closely. Another sound came. Then she heard a familiar voice hiss, "Andie, it's me."

She walked to the open window and looked down. Sure enough, there was Pacey with a handful of pebbles that he'd been tossing against the wall near her window to get her attention. "Pacey, what are you doing here?" she whispered.

"I . . . I couldn't stay there," he said sadly. "I usually just ignore him and try to block it out, but tonight . . . well, I just wasn't up to it. Can you come down for a few minutes?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah, I'll be right down," she told him.

Within minutes, Andie was at the back door. But, Pacey noticed she was still wearing her nightgown. "You coming out like that?" he asked skeptically.

"Nope, you're coming in," she said.

"But, what about your mom . . ."

"She's asleep. Her medication makes her tired and she's almost always in bed by nine. And she never wakes up until morning."

"What about Jack?" he asked as he looked around Andie to peer over her shoulder. He almost expected her brother to jump out of the shadows for some reason.

"He's at work. He doesn't get home until at least 1am. It's fine. Now, come on," she tugged at his hand and he finally relented and followed her inside. They crept quietly down the hallway and inside her bedroom. Neither spoke until the door was safely shut behind them.

"Tell me what happened," she said.

"Andie, I don't think you really want to hear . . ."

"Yes, I do," she insisted. "It feels better to get it out. What did he say?"

Pacey began pacing the room as Andie sat cross-legged on the bed. "The usual," he told her. "That I'm a screw up, that I'll never amount to anything. That he wishes I could be more like Doug." He stopped at the window and looked out. In a soft, distant voice he said, "He really hates me, Andie."

She got up quickly and went to stand behind him. "No he doesn't."

"Yes, he does. I've tried to tell myself for years that he couldn't possibly hate me, that something else had to be going on . . ." His voice faltered for a second and Andie wrapped her arms around his waist. "I can't fool myself anymore," he continued. "For whatever reason, for whatever it is I did to make it start, my father hates me."

She didn't know what to say to that. She hated the fact that he might even be right. It just didn't seem fair. Pacey was such a good person; he didn't deserve this.

"Come here," she instructed softly as she took his hand. She led him from the window and over to the bed. She turned off the light and lay down, urging him to join her.

"Andie, I don't think this is a very good idea. I mean, your mom is just a few doors down. And Jack will be home soon . . ."

"Pacey, let me worry about my mother and my brother, okay? Just get in." He obeyed, curling up in her arms with ease. He had to admit it felt good.

"You know what?" he said softly as he pressed his head into the crook of her neck.

"Hmm?"

"I've never felt as safe as I feel with you. Right here, right now, is the most perfect moment of my entire life. I wish we could stay like this forever."

Andie felt tears well up behind her eyes, but fought them back. She held Pacey close to her and stroked his hair until his breathing evened out and sleep overtook him. Just before she allowed herself to drift into sleep, she thought about his words and just how right they were. She did feel safer than she had ever felt. She couldn't be sure about forever, but at that moment everything felt perfect.

* * * * *

She kissed him in his dream. It was a slow, lingering kiss that seemed to go on forever. He could feel her lips against his own, taste that flavor that was uniquely hers. The air around him was perfumed with her scent. She seemed to be everywhere all at once. And the whole thing seemed so real.

"Dawson," he heard her voice say. "Dawson."

The sound woke him, pulling him from the wonderful dream and back to reality. He sat up in bed, his eyes still shut, as he shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts. "Dawson," he heard her say again. This time he knew he was awake. She was really there.

His eyes snapped open and he saw her, sitting on the corner of the mattress and looking down at him. Joey . . . his Joey.

"Joey," he said, wondering if his mind wasn't playing some cruel joke on him. "Are you . . . is it really you?" he asked.

She smiled a little and nodded. "Yes, I'm here," she confirmed.

"What . . . what are you doing here?" he asked.

"I came to talk, Dawson," she said as she got up from the bed and walked to the window to look out as she spoke. "I've been thinking a lot about us lately.

'Us?' he thought. 'Did she really think there was still an 'us'?' He almost beamed at the thought of it.

"I think we made a mistake," she said finally.

"Mistake?" he said even as his heart sank. She was sorry they'd even moved past being friends. She wished they had never dated, never taken that next step. She regretted it. He felt a knot rise in his throat.

"Yes, a mistake. We never should have--"

"No, don't say it," he said, his voice sounding much more pleading than he'd intended. "Please, just don't."

She turned back to him then, finally looking at his face. There were tears in his eyes; tears he didn't even realize were there. The pain in his expression was evident. She suddenly knew he had the wrong idea.

"No, Dawson, I don't mean that I'm sorry we got together. What I'm sorry for is . . ."

"Yes?" His voice was a whisper now, a whisper filled with hope that she'd say what he had been dreaming she'd say for so long.

"I'm sorry we ended it . . . I mean, I'm sorry I ended it. I really thought it was the best thing, but . . ." She seemed close to tears now and he wasted no time in going to her.

Standing before her, he said, "Joey, what are you saying here?"

"I'm saying . . . I'm saying that I think we should give this another try. I know I've been a jerk and I don't deserve another chance, Dawson . . . but I love you. And I really want this to work. I want to be with you, more than anything."

"Oh Joey, you don't know how much I've wished you'd say that! I love you, too," Dawson said as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. She melted into the kiss immediately, feeling at home in his embrace.

When they finally broke apart, he looked down at her. His eyes were so filled with love it took her breath away. He smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled softly at her. "I never dreamed this would happen. I love you so much," he said.

The tears finally won out and coursed down her cheeks as she responded, "I love you, too, Dawson. Always."

He kissed her again. This time when they pulled back, his eyes held a question that Joey had known was coming. "Stay with me tonight?" he asked softly.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes, I've never been more sure. Are you?" he asked.

"Definitely," she replied.

"Good." He took her hand and led her to the bed, sitting down and pulling her into his arms. As he kissed her again and again, Joey felt reality fade into the background. All she was aware of was Dawson, all around her. His touch, his kiss, his smell encompassed her world.

When it was over and they had finally given each other the one thing they'd saved for that right place and right time, Joey was happy. She was happy because she knew she'd found the perfect person.

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