He was frozen. Paralyzed... paralyzed by the words violently ricocheting through his head as he tried to wrap his mind around them and make sense of what he had just heard. As Pam had delivered her brave words not 30 seconds ago, he had barely been able to absorb them without cracking, without reacting visibly. He would have broken if not for the presence of Karen, who was sitting to his left, as close as she could possibly be without actually touching him. She was curled up to stay warm, making her already smallish frame seem to occupy even less space. Her presence, in contrast, was imposing. As Pam had turned to address him... I called off my wedding because of you... Jim's instinctive reaction was to spring up and embrace her, to hold her head against his shoulder and console her, to draw her close and fight through all those painful memories together. His brain, however, intercepted and defused this instinct by refusing to send the signals to his body to move. So he froze, barely moving at all. He thought instead of Karen. He could feel her tightening up. He risked a quick glance to his left and processed the look on Karen's face... a subtle mix of shock, fear, bewilderment, and pure venom, directed not at him but at Pam.

He had often daydreamed about the moment Pam told him that she loved him. For years, the image of her professing her love for him was his holy grail: the totality of he ever wanted, and more. During the countless times he had made love to her in his mind, he had always pictured her eyes looking up at him, her hair splayed gently behind her, telling her she loved him. She was so very different. Even in his most private fantasies, he was unwilling to water down his sacred bond with her with the normally standard erotic images of breasts, buns, and wild sex. Even in his dreams.

Lately, he had turned to wondering how he would react if she professed her unconditional love to him. He tried to convince himself that he would be strong, that he was over her, that he had moved on. His mind forced him to think of Karen. She was a great woman. He really liked her, and he would love her someday. Someday soon, hopefully. His pride told him that he would be less of a man if he dropped everything for Pam after being forced to endure three years of unrequited love and months of unbearable, painful heartache. But his heart... well his heart wouldn't speak up until it happened. And it had spoken. He had found himself wishing that Karen had never come into his life. Wishing that he had never met her. That someone else had saved him from the cycle of loathing and self-pity that had threatened to consume him. Someone not sitting right beside him keeping him from running to embrace Pam.

As Jim slowly managed to wrap his mind around the words, he felt an unfairness, a very real cruelty in the situation. Pam had triggered his response. His sacred, "I love you" response. But she hadn't professed her love at all. Thank God his brain had stopped him from doing anything stupid. I called off my wedding because of you. Because of you. Not for you. Because of you. She had reminded him of a terrible place he vowed never to let himself go again. He had been the amazing, understanding, sensitive best friend. It may have been nice for her to have had him pining away so loyally for three years, but it wasn't so great for Jim. So he had gotten her to see that Roy wasn't right for her... it was he who had to pay the steep price of having his heart shattered. Nobody deserved a best friend like that: a best friend who gave of himself with all of the dedication of a committed lover, and received nothing in return. But who wouldn't want a friend like that? Pam certainly did, and Jim was certain she still didn't realize how selfish it was for her to ask him to resume that role. She had almost gotten him to risk everything to once again be that guy that he swore he would never be again. Damn you, Beesly, for having that kind of power over me.

Everyone was frozen. Pam had already made it to the water before motion returned to the circle. Michael made some crack about still looking for a salesman. Jim moved first, reaching out and laying his left hand between Karen's shoulder blades. As his eyes followed, she turned to meet his gaze. The venom had faded from her face, but the shock was still showing. They had enjoyed a great day together, frolicking and joking around with a new easiness that had recently permeated their relationship. There was little doubt Karen's day had just been ruined, and Jim felt terrible that she had to witness what she just saw. He wanted to scoop her up and carry her away to soothe her nerves, to let her know everything would be OK. He also knew she probably wouldn't let him. Over the past six months, whenever he had hurt her, she would always maintain physical parity with him until he made things right. Physical parity in the sense that she wouldn't lie on his lap or let him spoon her or allow him any other contact which involved even the slightest submission on her part. She certainly wasn't going to let Jim pick her up in front of their co-workers.

So he fixed the situation. In full view of everyone, he leaned over and planted a forced, but still genuinely passionate kiss on his unsuspecting girlfriend. Karen was shocked at first, but soon she was leaning in, returning his kiss, trying to hold back the tears that were forming under her closed eyelids. She knew this was more than a kiss. He was choosing her. In front of everyone, he was choosing her. For the first time, really, he was choosing her. Jim didn't linger too long after getting his point across. He grabbed Karen's hand and led her away. Away from the prying eyes of their co-workers. Away from Pam. They disappeared into the darkness just as Pam returned to the circle.

Their very public kiss had been as much a show of force as a romantic gesture. Jim wasn't sure if he had defused the situation or just bought himself a little more time. Pam's words were still ringing in his head. The numbing pain of last year's heartache, which he had ostensibly suppressed into a dormant state, was stirring in his gut once again, triggered by the blatant honesty with which Pam had alluded to the bond that he was trying to forget, or at least ignore. As he lead Karen away from the circle, he had to at first pull her, to fight the inertia of her stunned body. After about ten steps, she had matched his speed and was waking beside him. By the time they reached the water's edge, she had ditched his handhold and was walking directly beside him, pressed into his side with both her arms wrapped around his waist and her face nestled into his shoulder. He instinctively put his arm around her and pulled her in tighter, before squaring his shoulders to her and drawing her in for a real hug. She was shivering. He hated himself for that brief moment less than a minute ago when he had wished she had never come into his life. He hated himself for wishing that Pam would love him with the same unconditional and uncomplicated love that Karen had shown him. And he hated that he hadn't been able to love Karen the same way.

It had been almost a full year. A new city, a new job, a new girlfriend. And she could still make him, a guy normally so comfortable in his own skin, hate himself. It had to be different this time. It just had to stop. He knew her power over him was as potent as ever, but this time he had a way out. He had someone else's strength to draw on. He had Karen, and he needed her now more than ever. It was an awkward thing for Jim to do, but so was everything else in the complicated reality that had just descended on him so abruptly. He knew he was mortgaging the purity of a beautiful moment from the future. He knew it was rushed, forced, and he risked losing the moment altogether. But he was undeterred, and he chose this moment, in the darkness of a May evening on the shores of Lake Scranton, to tell Karen Filippelli that he loved her.

And he was rewarded immediately. As he watched her reaction, time slowed to a crawl and he forgot about all of the turmoil that was pulling his mind in so many directions. Karen looked up at him with such relief in her eyes... she must have been really scared that she was about to lose him. The intensity of her relief paid tribute to the strength, the purity of her love. It made him love being Jim Halpert again. Her gaze contained an affection that said more than her verbal "I love you too" that followed shortly thereafter. She barely got her response out before slamming her head tightly into his chest and squeezing him as tightly as she could. Jim looked down at her, and saw in the moonlight a single tear running down her face. He had made her cry often enough, but always in a way that insured she was too angry or too hurt to let him touch her. This tear was different. It was shed during a moment of beautiful affection, and born only of happiness. Jim reached out and caught her tear on his thumb, and gently rubbed his thumb and forefinger together until it had soaked into his skin. This tear was a special one, and he wanted to keep it. He was so lost in the moment that he didn't even find reason to hate himself by wishing he had the power to make Pam cry tears of happiness.

Jim knew the bus would not leave without them, so he and Karen sat down in the moonlight and nestled together warmly. Michael would send someone to find them when it was time to go. They kissed sporadically, exchanged a few words, but mostly just relaxed and enjoyed each other's company. He had been through enough and needed the serenity of the moment to think. He knew there was a very good chance that he and Karen would be leaving Scranton. He had paid lip service to the thought of moving to New York, but after the events of this evening, the prospect seemed much more real. He'd been reminded how vulnerable, how weak he still was, but this time, with Karen's help, he had forced some happy order back into his life, before it even had time to fall apart. He knew, however, transfer or no transfer, that there was one conversation still left to have. One giant loose end to tie up. A huge open wound that needed closure. For now, though, he was content to enjoy the moment. The bus ride back to reality would come soon enough.

Although she was already pressed against him, Karen squeezed herself more tightly against Jim, nearly pushing him sideways before he was able to readjust his weight and use his heavier frame to meet the pressure. Her head was pressed comfortably into the front of his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm all the way around her and relaxed, enjoying the feeling of her gentle breathing. Ever since the night many years ago when Jim, then a gangly, pimple-faced 14 year old, had squeezed into a one-person sleeping bag with his first girlfriend, he had loved the feeling of a woman breathing against him. The most memorable had been Pam, the day she fell asleep on his shoulder in the conference room. That feeling was burnt into his mind forever, taking it's place among the thousands of little moments which had led so inexplicably to this one: sitting under a dark sky, savoring the contented breathing of a diminutive, olive-skinned beauty who a year ago he hadn't even known existed.

The darkness and her position meant all he could see of her was a mass of flowing, moonlit brown hair, but he was sure she was wearing the easy, happy smile that he so loved seeing. He could sense it. He could almost feel her smile through the back of her head. He'd seen this smile before, although often he hadn't deserved it. The first time was at Coopers, the night of the big merger, the night Jim Halpert's brave new world crashed violently into his past.

He had navigated through that day in his mind hundreds of times, but it was worse than anything he had imagined. He knew going into the merger that Pam didn't love him, at least not the way he loved her. He had convinced himself that he had come to accept this painful fact. He had left Scranton broken hearted, only to have his hopes cruelly rekindled when he received word that she had called off her wedding. That second heartbreak had been even worse. Two weeks stretched into three, which stretched into four. More than a full month of slow, burning anguish passed before he resigned himself to the fact that she wasn't going to call, that she wasn't going to reach back into his life and save him. He hated himself for having the audacity to hope that she might have left Roy for him, for thinking she loved him back. The final blow had come at a paper convention shortly thereafter when Michael alluded to Pam dating again... looking for happiness with some stranger, somebody not named Jim Halpert.

As prepared as he was, though, to face her again, her words that night in the parking lot: "We're friends... we'll always be friends," stung him and stung him badly. So badly, in fact, that he surprised himself a bit with the urgency of the easy charm he laid on Karen that night at Coopers. He had almost forced himself to tell her how he saw so much promise for the two of them, how he wanted more. Given his mental state at the time, it wasn't a total lie, but it was close. And Karen had answered his lie with that beautiful smile that he was sure she was wearing now once again.

He turned his thoughts back to his girlfriend, intent on enjoying the few peaceful moments he had remaining alone with her before reality intervened and forced them to face what was sure to be a very awkward week ahead. About ten minutes later, though, the outside world came barreling in on them noisily in the form of Dwight, who shined his flashlight obnoxiously in their eyes and beckoned them back to the bus.

As he approached the bus, with Karen walking beside him, tucked tightly under his arm, Jim could see a blurry mass of co-workers congeal out of the darkness. They were clustered loosely around the door, waiting for the driver to arrive and let them in. As he drew nearer, their hushed conversation faded into complete silence. Jim felt Karen start to slide away from him but he pulled her back in. Over the course of their relationship he had been so strict with her about workplace affection that she had instinctively tried to assume a platonic position as they approached their office mates. He felt guilty for an instant, but quickly turned his attention back to the sea of awkwardness he and Karen were about to wade into.

Jim stopped on the edge of the crowd. It wasn't hatred or anger, but rather shock, that filled the twenty or so eyeballs that now followed his every move. Jim quickly scanned the crowd for Pam. Kelly was wearing a look of horror. Phyllis looked sad. It wasn't until his third visual pass that he found Pam. Underneath the bus, he spotted the back of her Dundee winning white sneakers. She was behind the bus, apparently sitting alone on the back bumper, her feet dangling loosely below. Karen saw Jim's gaze freeze and turned her attention to the object of his focus. She turned to Jim, almost whispering, preferring to keep their business private from the prying eyes that were still tracking them so intently.

"If you need to talk to her, now's as good a time as any..."

Perhaps Karen had laid to rest the jealous, frightened, angry side of herself. Perhaps that side of Karen had died the moment Jim fed it love instead of uncertainty. The moment he picked her. Or maybe she, like Jim, knew that this was a conversation he was going to have to have eventually anyway, and she wanted to make sure he had it while time was constrained and she was safely nearby. Was it a test... a trap?

"It's OK, Jim. I'm all right now..."

He looked into her eyes, and he believed her. They had their whole lives ahead of them. She was happy. She trusted him. He smiled at her and began to move away toward Pam. He had only gotten about a foot away when he caught himself, turned around and gave her the second public kiss of their relationship. She smiled at him and he knew things would be OK.

Jim made for the back corner of the bus, ignoring the eyes that were now darting alternately between him and Karen. He flung his body around the corner of the bus easily.

Pam looked up at him.

She was as pretty as ever. That was for sure. Not that he was capable of making an unbiased judgement, though. Three years is a long time to build someone up, and he could still close his eyes and picture her face in perfect, intimate detail. To the average outsider, Karen was probably the prettier woman, at least to anyone open-minded enough not to be turned off by her smallish chest or atypical, non-all-American look. To nearly everyone, Katy would have appeared physically to be a more refined version of Pam, slightly but noticeably prettier in every way. But not to Jim. Pam was still his standard. Even when they had grown ugly to each other, she was still beautiful to him. Too beautiful. Since the merger, he had grown used to avoiding looking at her too much for fear of losing control of the distance he was forcing himself to keep.

Jim had no idea what to say, so he said nothing. Instead, he plopped himself down next to her, causing the bus to shake a bit as he added his weight to the rear bumper. He still wasn't sure what she knew at this point, but as she turned to look at him, he could see clearly. Someone had obviously filled her in about the details of his reaction, described to her in detail how he had kissed Karen so strongly before leading her off into the darkness. He could tell that she'd been crying. After spending so long convincing himself that all the tears he had ever shed for her had gone unreciprocated it actually hurt to be proven wrong. Maybe an explanation was a good place to start.

"Pam." He pivoted toward her, reaching out and laying his hand on her knee. "You scared me Pam. You know she's scared to death of you... of the hold you had on me... I was... well I thought I was going to lose her and I didn't want it to happen like this but it had to. I was scared."

She started shaking her head slightly. Her mouth opened but a few seconds passed before any words came out.

"Look. I'm sorry about Roy and everything. I know I hurt you and maybe you deserve to hurt me back..."

She turned to face him and continued. Her voice grew a bit louder.

"but that doesn't mean you have to do it, Jim. Because believe it or not, you already have."

Jim froze as she continued. There was nothing much he could say at this point. The die was cast. The sorrow the two of them had generated was overwhelming. As Pam continued, her words chipped away at his veil of self-pity.

"Jim, you know I'm broke. My paycheck barely covers my rent... but when I heard you were coming back, I went and paid to get my hair cut nicely, and I woke up early that morning to make myself look nice for you. For you, Jim. And you spent the day treating me like I wasn't even there... and I even tried to be a friend to you. I even helped you be good to her, Jim. Do you know how much that hurt me, Jim? To help you get through your stupid Karen problems?"

She was getting to him... stirring up uncomfortable emotions he was afraid to confront... He wanted to run, or else reach out and embrace her. He was trapped. He had to hear her out. But what she said next wasn't conflicting at all, just downright painful.

"You know, if I liked getting treated this way I would have just stayed with Roy."

"Pam." He had to stop her. "Pam I'm so sorry. I've been... well I've been an ass."

She stopped her rant cold, shaking her head with a resigned laugh. She actually smiled. What a mess. How could two people as close as them be so capable of hurting each other. Jim wanted to make things right but he knew he couldn't. Karen was waiting for him around the corner. She was a clean slate. They carried no baggage, and he still intended to do right by her. But the Pam situation, as un-fixable as it was, had to be addressed. She was just too much a part of his life, too much a part of him, to let her wither away like this. She was strong now. He knew she would be all right without him, but that wasn't what he wanted. So he offered her everything he could.

"We're friends Pam... we'll always be friends." The words didn't hurt as much going out as they did coming in that night in the parking lot, but they still hurt. He watched Pam absorb them and he could tell they hurt her too.

"I hope so, Jim."

The embrace wasn't as nice as the one they shared a year earlier. They weren't kissing this time, merely hugging. This one was the culmination of one year of passive animosity, not three years of burning, caged passion. But there was also no nervous anxiety about what she would say when the embrace ended.

********************

It was a fitting end to an undeniably strange day. Jim was seated toward the back of the bus, in an aisle seat. Karen, in the window seat to his immediate right, was leaning into him, sleeping gently. Across the aisle sat Pam, her head literally wired to Jim's across the aisle by the headphones they were sharing. Jim set his iPod to random, turned to Pam, and smiled.

She smiled back.