Disclaimer: Well, I don't own Pacey or Joey or True Love or Dawson's Creek... but for the 30 minutes it took me to write this... I pretended that I did.
Author's Note: This takes place somewhere after Valentine's Day Masacre in season 3, just ignore everything that's happened since then.
Dedication: Hmmmm, so many to choose from, lol, to Carrie, another dedicated P/J fan... we need more of those!

He pounded the nail with all the pent up frustration he had. He sighed when the nail finally penatrated the wood. He leaned against the structure resting his forehead on his arm and closed his eyes. This wasn't helping.

He'd finally told her... confessed it all. Every though and feeling he'd had regarding her he'd released out into the open. Laid it all out on the table for her... and what had she done? Just stared at him with those gorgeous chocolate brown eyes of hers. He'd aprehensivly waited with bated breath for her to say something... anything. But she only sat there her eyes wide in shock. Obviously she hadn't been feeling the same. The silence had finally gotten to him and he'd run out. No sense in waiting around for her to turn him down.

He'd come to his haven... his sanctuary. The place where he work out his frustrations... his boat. Only now, no amount of physical labor could erase the hurt rooted deep in his heart. He spotted the name plate on the work bench... "True Love". What was the point anymore?

He'd bought the boat in hope of mending his broken heart after his girlfriend had trampled all over it and, in a sense, put him through an emotional hurricane. And here he was, trying to mend the boat, and through it, his heart as well. It hadn't worked. He'd fallen again.

He wasn't going to go as far as to say she was his true love, after his last girlfriend he didn't believe in true love. But she had become a crucial part of his being and now he'd ruined it.

Technically the boat had been his, but it had slowly grown to be theirs. No matter how hectic things had gotten in the last four months, with the play and the B&B, they had always found a few hours to go work on it together. It was as much hers as it was his. Now everything around him reminded him of her.

The big splotch of white paint on the workshop window from when they'd had a paint fight. The portable cooler next the door, that she alwasy kept well stocked with food. The Skipper's hat she had given him for Christmas... What was supposed to be his refuge had become a constant reminder that all his hopes had come crashing down around him.

He began to pack up the tools, a habit that she had forced him into after she kept stepping on nails and sitting on tools. Once everything was put away he planned to leave. But found he couldn't, as murderous as the memories were, leaving would force him to face the real world. Dawson probably knew by now, and soon everyone would know. At least here he didn't have to deal with them.

He sat on the bow of the boat, lost in his thoughts. He wondered what she was doing then, what she was thinking. If she had told Dawson yet, and if so, how soon until Dawson showed up to beat the crap out of him. He succomed to the memories, some from their childhood, most from the last five months or so. He didn't hear the door to the shed-turned-workshop creak open.

He didn't notice her until she stepped right into his line of site. He nearly fell over at seeing her. Wide eyed he scanned her face, trying to make out what she was feeling, why she had come.

She stood in front of him awkwardly, wringing her hands nervously under his scrutinizing gaze. She met his gaze nervously, but determined, she knew he needed to see her eyes.

'The eyes are the gateway to the heart,' he'd told her one evening. She'd told him it was the soul, but he insisted. 'I can look into your eyes and see your heart, Josephine, not your soul,' he'd told her seriously. She felt pinned down by his woeful gaze, they had both stopped working. 'Your soul is something all your own, you keep it close, all to yourself. But your heart... You're heart is something you're meant to share.' That was when she fell for him. He uttered those words and her world had turned upside down.

He didn't say anything at first, he was too dumbfounded to speak. He recognized the emotion in her eyes, it was one he'd seen reflected back at him in the mirror everyday for the last few months. He jumped down from the boat and took the few steps to where she stood, almost tripping over his feet. She smiled softly at him as he stumbled.

He looked at her smiling face, and was bowled over by the brilliance of her smile. He returned it with a full out grin. He felt like shouting to the world. Instead he willed himself to calm down. He didn't succeed, his breathing was hagard and his heart was beating uncontrollably in his chest. He lifted a hand to brush away a wayward strand of her hair, pausing briefly before allowing his hand to make contact with her skin. She tilted her head ever-so-slightly against his touch. He let his fingers linger, reveling in the softness of her skin.

She stepped closer to him, feeling his body close to hers. She wet her lips invitingly, mentally urging him to kiss her. He looked into her eyes one last time, still disbelieving that she was there, and that she wanted him. She nodded slighting sensing his need for reassurance.

He leaned in, holding his breath with anticipation. His lips gently brushed hers, instantly set afire. He pulled back slightly to gauge her reaction. Her eyes remained closed and she wore a soft smile. He felt her arms go around his neck and pull him back to her. He clutched at her waist pulling her against him. He could feel her heart racing against his. He gave into the all comsuming passion that inflamed them.

She sighed against his mouth, and pulling away just enough to catch her breath, keeping a tight hold around his neck. He swallowed, leaving his eyes closed, just taking in the feel of hold her. He opened his eyes slowly, meeting her intense gaze.

Their eyes said it all.

THE END

Please send feedback to [email protected].