Disclaimer: I dont own so dont sue.

Catagory: Read and find out, when I started writing this, even I didn't know.

Author's Note: Thanks to Charley and Brooke, you two will just have to wait to see which ending I chose. I'd like to say, I wrote this at two in the morning because I couldn't sleep... and theres no better time than the middle of the night to write a fic. Just so you know, I'm typing this up on five hours of sleep, hopefully it wont be to unintelligable.

Insomnia.

It's been the bane of my existance for four years. Or at least it was, I haven't suffered from it in the last two. Not since high school and my early college years.

Until tonight.

I thought I was cured... It's entirely your fault you know.

The insomnia faded away when you did. Thoughts of you quit plagueing me in the insipid darkness. I should have been grateful for that.

I wasn't.

How could I be?

That was two years ago. I thought I'd gotten over you in that time. But here it is again. This damned sleeplessness and this heartache in the pit of my stomach I only get when I picture your beautiful face in my mind.

You never believed you were beautiful. I called you that once, and you made some off hand remark about beauty not being masculine. I dropped it then and there. I always dropped it when you showed any kind of rebuke.

But God, Pacey... you were beautiful.

The kind of beauty that shines from the inside and brought tears to my eyes more times than I care to remember. That kind of beauty doesn't fade with time. No matter where you are.

Not to say that you weren't all out gorgeous on the outside. 'Cause you were that too.

This wasn't supposed to turn into a listing of your good points.

How did I ever think I was over you? I guess 18 months of sleeping again convinced me.

But now, here I am again. Lying across my unmade bed, my feet hanging over the edge, hovering over the mess on my dorm room floor.

I know, I know, a college senior who's still living at the dorms, I can just see you chastising me.

I've got a worn legal pad in front of me and a cheap pen with teeth marks all up and down it in front of me. The digital clock is switching from 2:59 to 3:00. The insomnia is back.

All those nights, for four years, I always thought of writing you. Even when we lived in the same town. The nights I didn't spend fantasising about the two of us wrapped around each other, I wrote you letters in my head. Planning what I'd say, how I'd say it.

Some nights I'd bitch and moan about how you screwed me over. Making me love you, only to have you look at me with friendship in your eyes. How I'll never be able to truely love anyone else because you'd stolen my heart and weren't ever going to give it back. I'd go on and on about what a bastard you were.

How you kept hurting me and didn't even know it.

Sometimes, I'd get uppity and tell you how pathetic you were for not seeing what you were missing.

Those nights I was bitter. You know the saying, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.?" That was me. Scorned.

I always hated that word. It's so harsh, and saturated with bitterness. So ugly. It made me feel ugly.

Those nights I hated you for making me feel that way.

But no matter how bitchy I was, in those bitter letters in my head, they always ended with "I love you."

Betcha never knew you had an unrequited lover, Pacey.

The nights I spent in anger always ended in tears. The insomnia went away when I cried myself to sleep.

I wasn't always bitter though. Through most of high school I pushed away those feelings. I only let them come to me in the dark of night. During the day, I didn't let myself think about you as much. I even convinced myself I was in love a few times.

It was my victory over my heart. I should have known I couldn't win against it though, it always won in the end. Keeping me wide awake with thoughts of you.

I wasn't bitter very often in high school, (That came later, when we went to college and you dissapeared from all of our lives.), except when you inevitably got your heart broken by some girl who wasn't nearly good enough for you. I was always bitter then, as I did my best to pick up the shattered pieces of your lonely heart.

I always knew I'd never do that to you. I'd never hurt you. I'd never break your heart. I'd never let you down. I'd...

I was definatly bitter then. Undeniably so.

You were one of the good ones, Pacey. Full of amazing grace. Men like you... they just dont grow on trees, Witter.

They're impossible to find. And believe me, I've looked everywhere to find someone who could take your place in my heart. There just isn't anyone who compares to you... and there never will be.

I dont know how those girls found it so easy to break your heart. Your kind, loving, generous, beautiful heart. I dont know how they could stand to look in those enthralling eyes of yours and see them tortured with pain.

Pain *they* had the audacity to think they were worthy of.

Those days, I would have given anything to steal that haunted look from your eyes and bury it inside me so you wouldn't have to live with it and I'd never have to see it cross your face. A face like yours is meant for smiling. Eyes like yours are meant to glitter with mischeviousness and good humor. Eyes like yours should never shed a tear.

To bad you'd never accept that comfort from me.

I admit it, bitterness lives in me still. Maybe even more so knowing that my last chance is long gone.

I dont know who I'm angrier at sometimes. You, for never giving me a chance, or myself, for hiding it so well you never knew I wanted one.

The letters I practiced writing in my mind weren't always filled with the bitter ache of never having you. Sometimes, particularly on the hot summer nights when the air is so sticky with heat I could almost feel your fingers grazing my skin, my letters ached of long suppressed desire.

Those nights the letters in my mind boredered on porn.

Trashy-paper back-grocery store checkout line porn.

I'd describe how badly I wanted you lying beside me. Your heated skin pressed hotly to mine, our bodies slick with sweat. I described all the places I wanted to touch you and all the places I wanted to be touched. I wrote in detail every caress, every touch, every moan and groan and scream. I went on and on about how despratly I wanted you inside me, how good you'd feel filling me, reaching my deepest core and taking me higher than I'd ever imagined I could go.

Those nights I wanted to hop a train to wherever you were and moleste you until neither of us could see straight.

I would have done it too, if I'd had even the slightest clue where I could find you.

You can probably guess how those nights ended. If I wasn't currently dating someone, I took care of the throbbing ache between my thighs myself.

I can't tell you the number of boyfriends I've lost because I called out for you in a heated moment of passion.

I've tried convincing myself that I've idealized what being in your arms would be like. That you'd never live up to the fantasy you I'd created.

But I know that's not true. The few (very, very few) innocent (and not so innocent) caresses we shared back in high school blew me away. There's not a man alive who could get me as hot and bothered from one simple kiss as you could. Sex with you would have sent me to the heavens and back a few hundred times. Just *imagining* sex with you has sent me to heaven and back more times than I care to admit.

Everything you've ever done has gone above and beyond the expected. Why should making love be any different?

Truthfully though, Pacey. Most of the letters weren't filled with bitter or desire laden words. Most of them were filled with professions of love.

I know you often felt that no one loved you, Pacey. And I understand why you felt that way.

Your father and mother weren't the adoring parents you should have had.

Doug wasn't the best friend and mentor an older brother is supposed to be.

Dawson wasn't the best friend who supported your every endevor and kept all your secrets.

Your girlfriends weren't the kind to count their blessings at the honor of being loved by a man who gave of his heart, his trust and his love so completely.

And I.... I know what it's like to feel unloved and I didn't have the courage to tell you that you were loved when you needed it so badly. I could see it in your eyes, Pacey. You needed the words... even if they just came from me. And I didn't say them. I should have, I know that now.

Hindsight's a bitch.

I should have told you.

I should have, I wish I had.

I know I should have.

I wanted to. I needed to.

But most importantly, you needed me to. Even if you couldn't love me back.

It's too late now, like I said, hindsight's a bitch.

But in those letters, Pacey. I said it all. I recounted every memory, every moment in our history together that made me fall in love with you. I waxed poetic about your heroism, your laughter, and just *you*. Everything you were amazed and enthralled me.

Those nights I leafed though our old year books, and my photo albums. I felt closer to you when I could see your face. Especially in those first two years of college when I couldn't call you to hear your voice because no one knew where you were.

That was the most difficult time, when the insomnia was at it's worst. At least in Capeside I could see you every day.

The nights I wrote those letters in my mind, I never slept. The whole I night I was wide awake, I could find no solace.

And believe me. I tried everything to end the insomnia; drugs, herbal teas, even therepy. The drugs were the only think that worked, but I was sluggish all the next day and they shot my concentration to hell. I couldn't risk my school work like that. Besides, I'd come to find comfort in thinking of you. Unaided, I drifted off to sleep about an hour before my first class... if I was lucky.

There were many times I've told you that loves a bitch, Pacey. Most often after one of your sefl-centered, idiotic, irrational girlfriends was stupid enough to let you go. But every time I said it, I added a silent 'unrequited' before it.

For four years I had insomnia, Junior and Senior year of high school and Freshman and Sophomore year of college. So many sleepless nights spent thinking of you. Planning out thousands of letters telling you how deeply I felt for you.

So, why now, a month before I graduate, and almost two years since my last sleepless night, am I plagued with another bought of insomnia? Why, this time, am I actually writing the letter, you ask?

In a word... Dawson.

He proposed to me today, Pacey.

It was sweet. He took me on a picnic and hid the ring at the bottom of the basket. He made me unpack it, all the while I was doing that I was chewing him out for being a chavanistic pig. Then, I got to the bottom and there was a small black velvet box just sitting there. I looked in his eyes and I saw it.

He loves me, Pacey.

And I... I love him, too.

Maybe not enough, but at least I feel it. It's been a long time since I've felt love for anyone other than you.

I dont love him like I loved you.

Like I *still* love you.

But, at least I'll have him to hold. I can't get to you where you are now, I ran out of chances a long time ago. Precicly 18 months and 16 days ago I lost my last chance to tell you how much love I felt for you.

Someday, maybe, we'll be together.

That's the reason I'm finially writing this all out, Pacey. I'm getting married and even though you're presense is gone from the earth, you still invade my heart.

I never did say goodbye.

Some part of me, the irrational, love lorn part that still believes in happily ever afters wont let me let you go. That part of me holds onto the hope that it was all a mistake.

That we buried some other body in your grave.

That I cried continuously for five days and did't speak to anyone for weeks, for someone else.

That somewhere out there, your eyes are twinkling in merriemnt, your smile shines brightly on someone deserving , and you're becoming a hero to yet another lost soul.

That part of me never let go of you. Maybe it never will. Maybe this letter is all in vain and I'll be forever haunted by your memory and my stupidity at never giving into the love I felt.

So this all seems incrediably pointless now. I'm going to marry Dawson. I'm going to make love to him. I'm going to bear his children. And I'm going to grow old with him.

All the while, holding onto you in the depths of my heart.

I'll always love you more than him.

Maybe this isn't entirely pointless, I don't doubt that you're looking down on me from heaven. If there is such a place, that's where you undenyably are. Where else to angels go?

I'd like to think you're looking down on me and reading this. And now you finally know. I'm going to burn this as soon as I'm done, no one besides you ever needs to read it.

There will forever be a part of you alive inside me, Pacey. Everything you've taught me about love and life, and being the better person is in me. There is so much you taught me. So many pearls of wisdom to be thankful for. So many moments to treasure close to heart. Everything you were is a permanant part of me now.

I'll never forget the man you were and I'll never forgive God for stealing you from this earth before I got my chance to tell you just how much I love you.

But for now, I've got to let you go. I need to give Dawson everything I can while I wait for my chance with you. He deserves that much.

I'm finally writing this letter on what is sure to be my last sleepless night. It's time I laid your memory to rest. And even though I may purge you from my mind, you'll forever be in my heart.

Someday I'll be yours in every way concieveable. But for now, I need to give my mind, body and soul to him.

But I'll always be yours in spirit Pacey. Forever.

Love,

Jennifer Lindley

The End.

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