Author: Michelle K. (CageyGrl@yahoo.com)

Rating: PG-13 (some sexual innuendo)

Archive: If you want it, you may have it. Just tell me
first, please.

Summary: Josh is dreaming...or is he?

Disclaimer: Characters from "The West Wing" don't
belong to me. Instead, they are the sole property of
Aaron Sorkin, Warner Brothers Television and NBC. No
copyright infringement is intended and I am making no
money from this story.

Notes: Written in Josh's POV.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lately, I've been having the same dream.

It always ends the same. With me alone.

I've gotten used to it.

But I don't even care about the conclusion. The
dream...it's the best dream I've ever had.

---

I slowly blink my eyes open.

I can barely see a thing.

Fog envelops me.

And then, her face emerges from the haze. I can see
her clearly. Her eyes are shining brightly. Her blonde
hair has fallen loosely against her face.

She looks beautiful. She always looks beautiful
anyway. Why would my dream alter that?

She smiles at me. It's warm and inviting.

I smile back. "Donnatella," I say softly.

She answers me with a soft kiss, which I am happy to
reciprocate.

I feel her hand touch my scar. She doesn't do it to
prove she can handle my defect. She doesn't do it
absentmindedly. She doesn't do it out of curiously.
She does it because it's a part of me. And she's
comfortable touching my flesh.

She lets her hands travel the rest of my body.

She kisses me again.

"I love you, Josh," she whispers into my ear. I can
feel her breath touch my skin.

"I love you, too," I reply.

Her lips are on mine again.

I feel her body pressed against mine. I'm in such
ecstasy, I can barely breathe.

I let my hands travel over her smooth alabaster skin.
The heat of her body makes me feel alive.

I realize that the dream usually ends before this.
This seems strange to me.

I should be awake by now.

---

Then, I let my eyes open fully.

Rays of sunlight are pouring through the shades on my
bedroom window. Those rays usually showcase the empty
spot in my bed - which correlates directly to the
loneliness in my heart.

But this time, those rays fully illuminate Donna's
face.

Then, the memories flood back to me.

How she arrived at my apartment last night and told me
she couldn't hide her feelings for me anymore. How she
had kissed me. And how I didn't have the strength to
deny I was crazy about her, too.

This isn't a dream. This is actually happening.

"Donna. You're...you're real," I say in amazement.

"As opposed to a girl on Baywatch?" she says with a
playful smile.

This is definitely not a dream.

And I've never been happier.

THE END