So! The poll results WOULD have been tied, had I voted on it. Lol. Since I didn't, this was technically the second favorite option. But as I said, this has been written from the beginning and the votes wouldn't have changed the outcome. Hee! Enjoy! Starts in 1st person then switches to 3rd.

I HIGHLY suggest that you listen to "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri, on repeat while you read this. Sets the tone and pace I think.

Stephanie's POV

It's been a week since I've been released from the hospital. My Mom had already told Shane the truth, which is why he didn't happen to be present when I woke up. He'd been visiting with our Dad. It's amazing how my family was essentially mended...while I was unconscious and allowing my brain to do the same.

As I suspected, my business did not fall apart in my absence. Stacy is still mostly late to everything but does such a good job that nobody really cares. Our receptionist, Reg has been really proving his worth while I've been out. We've discussed giving him a raise and a promotion for his efforts.

When Alex finally got a hold of me, he wasn't happy. But I noted that he wasn't broken, either. Just pissed off, ranting about how I'd ruined everything. Which just goes to prove that my instincts about him were probably right. Or my coma/dream was. I'm not really sure what to call it, but more random feelings and memories from the experience have been coming to me with each passing day.

Which is why I know that something is missing. I felt it this morning as I walked away from my favorite cafe, with a white mocha in hand. I tried to ignore the tug in my heart and mind by using work as an excuse. But it's not very effective.

From across the room, Stacy looks at me inquisitively. "Steph? You okay?"

"I think so."

Her brown eyes widen in slight alarm. "Is it your head? Do I need to call the doctor?"

I wave away her concern with a laugh. "I'm fine. It's just...I don't know. I feel weird."

"That sounds like something we should tell a doctor," she reiterates.

"Not physically weird, Stace. Just...something's missing. You know?"

Even before she shakes her head in the negative, I can see that she doesn't know. Hell, even I don't know what I'm talking about. Not for sure. What I experienced in my coma can't possibly have been real. I didn't move from the damn bed and not even a full month passed, let alone several. But I still can't shake the feeling that I am yet am not where I'm supposed to be. That things are perfect, but still something major and necessary is lacking. It doesn't make any sense at all.

Nothing that happened in that dream-state was real. I don't have cancer...I finally remembered the ailment that had taken my life and that was it. Despite physician approval of a clean bill of health, I demanded that they check again. My primary care physician seemed to want to stick me on psych meds...until I relayed bits and pieces of my experience. The insurance still wouldn't authorize it, so I ended up paying out of my own pocket for the thorough battery of tests and scans. Nothing. Not a single trace of any form of illness. I'm fine.

My family is no longer ripped at the seams. My mother is still alive, although her condition is severe and doesn't look good. Shane has not fallen into a pit of despair. I am not married to Alex, with a stepdaughter that was sent from the deepest pit of Hell.

I am not dead. I am alive. More than I ever have been before and yet something is still nagging at me. Whenever I try to focus on that particular memory from my subconscious, it evades me before I can get to it. Like a leaf that I want to examine, tumbling around in a harsh, bitter wind as I chase after it.

"We're closing in an hour anyway, Steph," Stacy says. "Take the rest of the day off. Clear your head."

I nod at her. Ah, what the hell. It's not like anyone blames me for being out of sorts. I've been awake for less time than I'd been in a coma. Maybe rest will help me get clear; distinguish reality from everything else that's been happening. I gather my things and say my goodbyes for the afternoon.

A warm breeze floats past me as I step outside. I inhale...grateful to be out of the hospital. Grateful to be aware, conscious and mobile.

Alive, I realize with a shock. I am actually grateful for my life and all that's in it. I enjoyed it more often than not, sure. But enjoying and being truly grateful are two different concepts. I'm tempted to skip down the damn street. But I don't because I'd prefer for the mass of pedestrian traffic not to stare at me like I've lost my marbles. That may cause my doctor to actually put me on medication.

Inside the palm of my hand, my phone vibrates. I glance down at it quickly, seeing a text from Stacy.

Get a white mocha, you addict. Those always perk you up!

I grin at the device and key in a laughing emoticon. Stacy's teasing is very familiar. But I don't think she's ever actually used the word addict. So why does that feel familiar, too?

That query remains with me all the way to the cafe. While I stand in line. Place my order. Wait for my drink.

I love this place, but for the life of me I don't get why they don't ask for names here. One of these days, someone is going to steal someone else's drink. Stealing the coffee from a sluggish, cranky businessperson isn't something that you want to do, unless you've got a death wish.

"White Mocha," the barista calls out.

I step forward to claim my drink and another woman's hand clasps around the cup before I can get to it. My eyes widen in shock. Not because I didn't ever see this situation coming. But because the memory I've been trying to touch for the past few days has finally allowed me to brush my hand over it.

Fuck the drink! The stranger can have it. Me? I take off out of the cafe door.

My mind forces my body to jog down a path that it's never been down before. But I don't miss a beat. I don't stop, hesitate or think about which direction to go. I keep moving until finally I land in front of a building called Gaston Investments. I run through the sliding double doors, past a man that eyes me strangely due to my haste.

No, she wasn't breathing properly, but she didn't care. She had to make sure that he was a part of this world. Her actual world and not the dream one. She had to know if it was possible to literally pull the man of her dreams down into her reality.

Breathless, she reached the reception area, planting her hands down on the desk heavily because she was too damn tired to be more tactful. The words spilled out of her mouth before she'd even thought about what to say. "Paul," she said and took a desperate gulp of air. "Paul Levesque," she said hopefully and halfway as a question to herself. She didn't know his name. She didn't! But somehow she did. She was so confused but everything seemed so right. God, she wanted this part to be real. Paul had to be real. He just had to be. That was the one thing from her dream world that she wanted to bring to this one.

"He has a conference meeting, he's not currently in his-"

The receptionist's voice trailed off as Stephanie turned and sprinted down the hallway. This was the building from her dream, she just knew it. Paul's office would be at about the middle of the hallway. But he wasn't there, so she wouldn't be going there.

She turned the corner and immediately spotted the large, double doors of the conference room at the very end of the hall. Upon reaching it, her slender fingers grasped both knobs and she pulled them open.

At least 15 heads lifted and turned to stare in her direction, in surprise. Her blue eyes tracked back and forth up and down the long table, trying to spot the man she was looking for.

His blond hair came into view when he stood up from the table and eyeballed her with complete curiosity. He was wearing dark slacks and a grey, button down shirt. His suit jacket rested across the back of the chair he'd just stood up from.

Stephanie's eyes lit up in pure amazement and both sides of her mouth turned up in a wide smile.

Fuck, he was real. He was real and he was standing there waiting to see what she'd interrupted his meeting for. She'd gladly show him, she just hoped he didn't have security throw her ass out afterwards, fearing that she was a madwoman.

Not wasting another solitary second, she jogged around the desk until she reached him. She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her level for a kiss.

At that moment, it didn't matter that they had a large and completely bewildered audience. It didn't matter that they'd yet to properly meet. She hadn't even bothered to say hello, for crying out loud.

But it didn't matter to either of them. Instantly, his arms came around her waist and he returned her kiss eagerly. Neither of them was entirely aware of what the hell was going on at this time, but it felt right. Together was where they belonged.

Suddenly, they both heard the receptionist's voice, "I'm so sorry! She just ran in here, should I call secur-" the young woman's words died in her throat as she saw the display of affection. She actually chuckled before excusing herself from the room.

"Is that his girlfriend?" One of the inquisitive men in the room asked.

"I don't think he'd kiss a stranger like that," a female voice commented.

Reluctantly, Paul pulled away from Stephanie. Her eyes fluttered open and Paul took in their dreamy, inviting, pale blue depths. He gave her a small smile and one last peck before turning to the table full of colleagues. "Ladies and gentlemen, we were wrapping this meeting up anyway. If no one has anything else to contribute, I say we dismiss," he suggested lightly.

All heads in the room nodded in the affirmative, confirming that the meeting was over.

Paul grabbed his jacket and turned around to meet Stephanie's eyes again. "Come with me?" He asked, holding his hand out to her.

Yes! Hell yes, she would, without reservation. She nodded and placed her hand in his, allowing him to lead her from the room and down the hallway to his office. He closed the door over and led her to the leather couch.

They both sat down, leaving a few inches of comfortable space between them. Thoughtfully, Paul rubbed his beard and threw the jacket over the arm of the couch. "What the hell just happened?" He asked. His tone wasn't angry or even annoyed. He just sounded confused, but not in any way upset.

Stephanie shook her head. She had no idea, either. She'd come here on pure instinct and impulse. There was no logical explanation; she just knew that it was right. "I'm-I'm Stephanie," she said, her cheeks going pink in accordance with her blush.

Paul laughed at her, but shook the hand that she offered in greeting. "First you make out with me, and then you introduce yourself…a little backwards, don't you think?" He watched her shrug and smile bashfully. To him, it was completely adorable. "I'm Paul."

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, she folded her hands in her lap to look more composed and put-together. What she was about to say would make her sound batshit crazy. She needed to at least look sane, while she said things that were completely impossible. "This is going to sound nuts, but I already knew your name, Paul."

His beautiful hazel eyes widened in surprise, but he said nothing.

"We know each other well. But from a different – I don't know, time. I...was in a coma, actually. Medically induced. I had a fall," she added, upon seeing his alarmed expression. "I remembered you, but I didn't remember you...just the feelings. And then I was out and about and it just...came to me. The details, I mean. And then I came here. I know this doesn't make any sense. I don't know you, Paul. But I do, even though we haven't met face-to-face until now. How could I just…just instinctively know your face, know your name, know where you work and know that you're supposed to be special to me?"

Paul's eyes were so intense to her. He was staring at her as if he thought everything coming out of her mouth unlocked the mysteries of the universe. Maybe he did think that. It certainly didn't look like he was preparing to run for his life, fearing that she was brandishing a weapon. "Give me a sec, will you?"

Stephanie's face fell in disappointment. Considering the circumstances, she'd all but poured her heart out to the man. His response left a little something to be desired, but she nodded anyway.

Her eyes watched him intently as he walked over to his large desk and picked up his landline.

Crap. Maybe he was calling security or the police. Or the paddy wagon. But she couldn't back out now. She wouldn't walk around wondering "what if" for the rest of her life.

"Hey, Heather," he greeted neutrally and waited for a reply. "Yeah I know I don't usually call from work," he said before going silent again. "No, I don't know or actually care where your Dawson's Creek Season Four went," he said with obvious annoyance. Finally, he put a frustrated hand up. "Would you shut the hell up and listen? Jesus! Look, you and I aren't going to work out."

On the other side of the room, Stephanie couldn't contain her smile. Paul was breaking up with his girlfriend. He believed her. He believed that there was something between them that was worth exploring. At least she hoped to God that that's why he picked now to dump the twit.

"No, I really mean it and no you can't still move in. I'll give you enough to cover rent at your place for one month since I'm springing this on you last minute. I'll mail a check today. Other than that, we're done." Without waiting for her reply, he hung up the phone and unplugged it from the jack.

Paul's eyes lifted to meet Stephanie's and he couldn't help but grin at the pleased smile on her face. He pushed himself to stand up fully behind the desk and rolled his shirt sleeves up to his forearms. "So Steph," he began. "You say we've never met before today?"

Somehow, her smile had gotten even wider. And she knew butterflies weren't actually living inside of her, but she knew she wasn't imagining the fluttering sensation happening right now. He said her nickname so casually. Like he was already very familiar with her. It warmed her heart. "That's right," she confirmed, wondering where he was going with his comment. "Only in my dreams, so to speak," she admitted.

Paul nodded thoughtfully and tugged the band from his hair. He raked a hand through the blonde strands before reaching down to open one of his desk drawers. Without speaking, he pulled a legal pad of paper out and walked back over to her.

"That's funny, Steph," he said easily, making her chest grow tight with emotion. He plopped down on the couch next to her and slid the pad of paper into her lap.

Holy fuck. Her blue eyes were shocked and wide as she glanced back and forth between him and the papers she flipped through. She felt like she was getting the surprise of a lifetime. She'd be fucking terrified if she didn't know in her heart that with Paul is where she was meant to be.

It was obvious, not just by the dozens of pictures of her he'd sketched, but also in the way his brown eyes stared at her tenderly as this moment unfolded between them. She reached the last picture and it was of her lying on some swing in a backyard overlooking the beach. It was beautiful...and somehow, some way she knew and loved this place even though she'd never been there.

"It's very funny," he repeated softly, "that we've never met before now. Yet, I stood up in that meeting because when you burst in I recognized you from my dreams."

Feeling her eyes beginning to gloss over with tears, she looked at Paul again, her expression transmitting her affection and her questions.

Paul's hand inched over to take hers and he squeezed gently. Stephanie didn't dare to move a muscle or say a word, fearing that she'd spoil the moment. Or, God forbid that she came to herself and realized this was a dream within a dream. That'd be pure torture.

"Stephanie," he said to make sure he had her full attention. "I have no idea how this happened or how the hell it's even possible…but I'm really glad that you found me."

It's over it's over! Ahhhhh I finally finished another story. I am so HAPPY, this story can finally leave me alone and stop making everyone cry, LOL!

If you were so eager to read that you missed my note at the start, go read this again while listening to "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri, please. You'll thank me later. Meanwhile, thank YOU guys for all the support on this. I know the last chapters were difficult to read, but didn't I promise way back when that it'd be worth your while!? Drop your thoughts as you bid this one farewell! :)