This Was Us by: Vlada

Summary: Takes place in the future from Joey's perspective. What would happen if Dawson were gone forever, leaving Joey and everyone else behind?

Author's Notes: If you enjoyed this story, look for my other works. If you've read 'Angels Will Take Care Of Us' you'll notice I have a tendency to put Dawson in life threatening situations. I have two other ideas in the works and I promise no health problems.

This Was Us

"I'll see you later."

"Why? Where are you going?"

"Didn't you hear? There's a half sale for soul mates at the corner store."

Bedside buddies. Pacey had given us the nickname during our freshman year of college. The three musketeers had gone to UCLA together.

Dawson and me got a two bedroom apartment, one for him and one for me, while in typical sitcom fashion, Pacey got a single across the hall. We did everything together from movie nights to study sessions. It was like we regained our title back. We might as well have gotten a one-two bedroom for the three of us. I often found myself climbing into bed besides Dawson. He'd turn around to face me and wrap his arm around my waist. I'd let my head fall into place on his chest. In that one moment I felt truly safe and loved. In the mornings I'd wake to find him watching me with his soulful eyes intently, that I'd be lost in them for minutes before I'd ask what he was doing.

"Watching you sleep," he'd reply. "I want to remember you like this forever." He'd run his hands over every detail of my face as if he were trying to memorize it. "Has anyone told you, you look like a peaceful angel when you sleep?"

"Just every guy I've shared a bed with." He'd raised an eyebrow.

"Which is only you."

After a few days it became so natural, that my bed never had to be made. It was automatic. I didn't think, just did.

"You spend more time in Dawson's bed, than you do in your own," Pacey once said, while rummaging through our fridge.

"Yeah, well you spend so much time at our place, rummaging through our fridge, that I swear sometimes it feels like you live here," I replied.

"Hmmm. I could take your bedroom and you can move into Dawson's bed."

We ended making my bedroom into an office. Not to say it didn't come in handy. Coffee tables are so old. Sometimes I still find myself waking up expecting to find him there beside me. Then I remember he's not there. He'll never be there again. I worry that I might start to forget. Forget him, his soft and warm touch, his talent and passion, his love. God, I hope I never forget. That's the worst thing I can imagine. For him to become a distant memory in the back of my head. I still find myself crying myself to sleep. The pillow soaked with tears when I wake. My eyes red and swollen, and my checks stained from the dried tears. His side of the bed untouched.

Little small, wavy, blond hairs still on the pillow. The hole in the pillow from his head still there. The covers still wrinkled. It was days before I set as finger on the left side of the bed, let alone make his side of the bed. He had cold toes. I remember that well. Even before he went, his toes were always cold compared to his warm hands. His toes would touch mine in the middle of the night and send shivers down my back. And now as I lay alone in bed, I'd give anything to feel his toes.

I still have movie nights with Pacey, but its not the same anymore and nothing ever will be. There's no body to debate with and critique the movie with the way we did. I go to the movie theater and sit in the very last row. I pretend he's there next to me, but there's no hands grazing against mine in the popcorn. No instant, electric, magnetism. I stay until after the credits roll thinking one day it would have been his name up there. I look around me and there's no one there. Empty. Space.

Sometimes he'd call me "baby." I hated it at first, but it grew on me. He said it with love and sensitivity. Pacey, on the other hand, yelled it to every girl with legs. Pacey, he was so wonderful during everything. He'd stop by and make sure I wasn't drowning myself in cookie dough ice cream. Of course I'd offer him a spoon and we'd spend all night talking about our sorrows. Most of which was about Dawson. He meant more to Pacey than anybody would ever know. We spent hours on end crying in each other's arms. I thought I'd never live till the day Pacey would openly cry in front of me. Under the circumstances I wish I hadn't. I that think between the two of us, our tears could have filled the Great Lakes.

People constantly told me how sorry they were, but it didn't help. It didn't make it any easier or better. It didn't bring him back to me. To Pacey. To anyone of us. Why? Why did He have to take him? He was so young. We were about to start our lives together. I found the engagement ring in his pocket after he passed. We were soul mates. Not everyone is lucky enough to find their soul mate, and at such a young age. Those who do find theirs usually end up hurting each other and not releasing how much they really meant to each other until its too late. We were almost like that. I thank God everyday that we were able to find our way back to each to one another.

I'll never love anybody else like I loved him. I'll never find another soul mate. You can't just go and buy one. Why? I keep asking. He's in a better place I tell myself.

Life doesn't get any better than this," he once told me as we watched the sun come up together. Then how could he be in a better place? How? Why? I don't know the answers. I don't think anyone does. There must be a reason though why I'm left here all alone. Why he was taken.

Everything happens for a reason, I've come to believe. I have to trust myself that this was the way it was meant to be.

"God has a plan for everyone," Jen's Grams used to say. This was God's intended plan for Dawson. To die of a sudden heart attack at 23, as unbelievable as it may seem, this was the way his life was meant to end. How does that song go? Oh yeah. How's it gonna be when I don't you know you anymore. How perfectly fitting.

Now I'm left here with all his scripts and a note. It reads,

Dear Joey.

If you're reading this then something must have happened to me.

Remember just because I wrote this will doesn't mean I thought of ever leaving you. I want you to have what I treasure most next to you. My scripts. Some have already been made into movies and others I intended to do so.

"The Lovebirds" is for you. I don't want you to grieve, even though I know you will. Please let Pacey help you and open up. Don't let your cynical barriers go back up. Don't be afraid to cry. Please don't sit around waiting for me. I don't want that. All I want for is for you to be happy and if that means falling in love again with someone else, then let it be. One day we will be together, I promise. I'll tell your mom you said hi, I love you, and I miss you.

Love Dawson.

I've made it my goal to fulfill his dreams. I'm now director, Joey Leery. And as I stand here on the stage accepting our Oscar for "The Lovebirds", I only have one thing to say, "This is Dawson's more than anybody else's. He wrote this, it came from his heart. All I did was direct it. I love you more than words can describe and cherish the moment when we will be together again." A silent tear rolls down my check.

The End

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