Pam flipped to the next page in her notebook and cracked her knuckles. It turned out when Michael asked her to type up her notes from Beach Day "in a way that's helpful," he was serious. She typed furiously for a minute before glancing over her monitor. Jim and Karen were in the conference room, so Pam let her eyes linger on Jim's desk. The blue Dunder Mifflin screen-saver and the old picture of Jim and his brother stared back at her.

Her mind flashed to last Friday, wading around the shallow end of Lake Scranton, the mud squishing between her toes and cooling the balls of her feet. She remembered looking up at the moon and feeling so light. Ten yards behind her, her co-workers sat in silence, surely stunned by the words the shy receptionist had just delivered. Pam didn't care; in that moment it was her, the water, and the sky. For the first time in her life, she felt tall.

That tall feeling diminished when Michael called out that it was time to go. She couldn't help but keep her eyes lowered as she walked to the bus and took a seat towards the back; her courage had been tapped out for the day. Once they reached the Scranton Office Park, she was slow to exit the bus, Jim's silver Saab passing her as she made her way to her car. She allowed herself to glance into the car window, and could see Jim quickly glance back. She knew all too well that he needed some time; that she said all she could say for now and would have to wait for him to come to her before saying any more.

The high-pitched ringing of the phone brought Pam back from last Friday and she lifted the receiver. She glanced at the phone display and saw Corporate was calling.

"Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam," she said flatly.

"Yes, James Halpert, please."

Pam felt a slight dryness in her throat. "He's in a meeting right now. I can take a message, or forward you to his voice-mail."

"This is David Wallace's assistant. Could you please tell him his interview has been pushed back to 11am on Thursday?"

Pam glanced at Jim's desk again.

"Hello?"

Pam shook her head, "Yes, sorry, 11am Thursday, I will let him know." She hung up the receiver, grabbed her note pad, and started writing the message, cursing her shaking hand.

Jim twirled his pen between his fingers as Michael gave a presentation entitled, 'The Scott Era: An Age of Integration.' Every slide started with Michael saying, "When corporate chooses me over certain other candidates," and glancing obviously at Jim.

Karen sat across from Jim, and Jim looked at her whenever Michael said something ridiculous, hoping Karen would meet his gaze so he could smile, or shrug, or roll his eyes. However, Karen would not comply; she kept her eyes firmly on the presentation.

This was actually the closest Jim had been to Karen in three days. Friday evening, she told Jim to drop her off at her apartment, not saying a word when she got out of his car, then no calls or messages on Saturday. Jim reluctantly called yesterday, and Karen answered in a low and emotionless voice.

"Do you want to come over?" Jim asked, his leg shaking nervously.

"Not really," Karen answered.

Jim drew in his breath, "I just want you to know that I'm – I'm still interviewing with Wallace on Thursday."

When Karen didn't respond, Jim continued.

"I don't want Friday to change ..." The thought was too ridiculous for Jim to finish.

Jim could only hear breathing before Karen quietly said, "Yeah." More silence. "We both have a lot of things to think about, Jim."

Jim tried to swallow the lump in his throat before suggesting they should talk, and couldn't tell if Karen scoffed or chuckled. He wanted to laugh at his own suggestion as well; they both knew how effective "talking about it" had been in the past. Karen said she'd see him at work and hung up. Jim kept his cell phone to his ear for several seconds before closing it.

Michael flipped to his last slide, a soft-focus picture of himself sitting with his chin on his hand and the word "Fin" underneath. Karen didn't so much as glance sideways at Jim and was the first to exit the conference room. When Jim returned to his desk, he looked at the clock to see it was a quarter to five, and noticed Karen was preparing to leave. He pulled up Messenger on his screen, saw she was still logged in, and double-clicked her username.

jhalpert: dinner later?

He watched her notice the new window on her screen. She looked over at him for the first time all day, and he smiled, or attempted to. She bit her lip and typed quickly.

kfilippelli: okay

Jim breathed out in relief, and smiled more fully when she walked by on her way to the door. She smiled slightly before shifting her eyes straight ahead.

After 15 more minutes of form signing and quick phone calls, Jim logged off his computer, stood up, and slipped the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. He started towards the door when the voice he had been trying to ignore all day called to him.

"You have a message."

Jim kept his focus on the jelly bean dispenser and grabbed the piece of paper that came into his view. He didn't stop, just uttered "Thanks" and continued to the door. He started to turn the door handle when he glanced to the note and froze. His mind returned to the blur that was Friday night and he remembered Pam was still up at the coal walk when he announced he was interviewing with Wallace. He turned towards Pam and found she was looking back, as if she'd been watching and waiting for his reaction.

"You took this call?"

A puzzled look crossed Pam's face, and she laughed a nervous laugh, "Um, yes."

Jim let out a soft laugh and scratched the back of his neck, "Of course, that was . . . stupid question." His hand returned to the door handle.

"Is that the job Michael is also interviewing for?"

Jim's head snapped over to Pam, this time he started to walk towards her desk. "Yeah, it is."

Pam nodded, and cast her eyes down, "Oh."

Jim reached her desk, and lowered his voice. "Pam, this isn't…" He stopped when Pam looked up with slightly glassy eyes.

"It's not what?" Her voice was surprisingly steady.

"I arranged this interview before you . . . before the coal walk." Jim looked down, not knowing where he was going with this. "It's just an interview, you know, no guarantees."

"But you gotta take a chance on something sometime, right?"

Jim's looked up at Pam and couldn't help but smirked a little, "That's good advice."

Pam nodded, "Someone gave me that advice last year." She kept her eyes squarely on Jim and took a deep breath, "I wish I had taken it sooner."

Karen was a few miles into New Jersey when the radio station she was listening to gave out. If Karen liked anything about Scranton, it was that they had a decent jazz station. Sometimes she would turn down Jim's obligatory offer to ride together to work, telling him she had a quick errand to run, when the truth was she just wanted to hear a little jazz.

Music wasn't the reason she turned down Jim's offer to ride together to New York, though Karen knew she's be subjected The Shins or Death Cab for Cutie the whole way there. She told him that she was going to meet some old friends for dinner, and have a "Girls Night Out." She managed to lessen her guilt about lying to Jim by telling herself it was somewhat true; she was meeting a friend from college, it's just that friend happened to work at a bank and helped arrange an interview for Karen at four o'clock.

Her dinner with Jim on Monday was fine. He told her that he still wanted to go forward with the plans they dreamed up on Friday afternoon, and that despite what Pam said, he had realized his entire relationship with Pam was mostly sadness and heartbreak. After dinner, they spent the evening sitting on the couch, Jim's arm around her shoulders as they watched 24. He pulled her close to him at one point, kissed her on the forehead and said, "I am really happy I'm with you."

Karen found a new jazz station, sat back and continued to cruise down I-80. I am really happy I'm with you. Her heart would jump a little whenever Jim started a sentence with "I…" in his low, kind of husky voice. For half a second she would think that the moment she had been hoping for was here, that the three words which might make this whole ordeal worth it would slip past his lips. But those words never came, just some other sentiment that was sweet but somehow always shallow. In the past she told herself it was enough.

Karen dabbed her eyes with her sleeve as the phrase repeated in her head. I am really happy I'm with you.

It wasn't enough anymore.

Jim looked around the elevator that was taking him and a half-dozen of the most serious-looking people he had ever seen down to the lobby. He had just finished his interview with David Wallace; he felt prepared for every question, managed to make Wallace laugh a couple time, and walked out of the office feeling very good. But when he glanced at the people around him, he felt a little out of place with his scuffed messenger bag and a suit that probably didn't cost a third of what any of the other men were wearing.

The elevator doors opened, and Jim was the last to step out. To his left, he saw Michael sitting on a bench, and consciously decided if Michael didn't say anything, Jim would just walk by.

"There he is, the mutinist," Michael said dramatically.

Jim stopped and laughed a little to himself before walking towards Michael. "Hey Michael, how did the interview go?" He could already tell by Michael's frown and the way he crossed his arms the answer was "not good."

"Oh, you'd love me to tell you all my secrets, so you can use them for your own interview." Michael said, avoiding eye contact.

"I just had my interview, Michael, it was right after yours. You passed me and told me it was a 'tough crowd.'"

"Oh right." Michael looked at Jim, his expression immediately shifting from grim to curious. "How did it go?"

Jim took a seat next to Michael. "Fine, I suppose."

"Good, good, good," Michael said, fiddling with his jacket. "So, you still want the job?" he asked after several seconds.

Jim nodded, "Yeah." He looked over at Michael and knitted his brows, "Why?"

Michael shrugged, "I don't know, I guess I was a little surprised you'd still want it after Friday."

Jim scoffed, "Michael, you know this isn't personal, I wasn't trying to under-mind you–"

"No, no, not because of that," Michael said. He tilted his head at Jim, "Though you did kind of hurt my feelings."

Jim laughed a little and looked down at the tile floor.

"I just thought, after what Pam said –"

"Michael…" Jim said quietly, shaking his head.

"That you, I don't know, wouldn't be so interested in the job anymore."

Jim kept shaking his head. "That's…it's more complicated than that." He looked ahead and could see Michael watching him in his peripheral vision. Michael leaned back against the wall and started playing with his tie, sighing loudly over and over.

"Michael," Jim said, restraining his irritation, "do you want to say something?"

"No, no. It's none of my business."

No, it's not, Jim refrained from saying.

Michael started talking in a low tone, "It's just, the girl you love just told you she loves you back." He shrugged, "I don't see what's so complicated."

Jim snapped his head back to Michael, his mind struggling to process that comment. "She didn't say she lo…" He stopped himself and took a deep breath. "She didn't say that." He quickly reminded himself that he had read too much into Pam's words for years, that she simply said he helped her realized Roy was wrong for her, and that she missed his friendship. My friendship, Jim told himself, nothing more.

"Oh," Michael said, sounding a little surprised. "I guess you're right."

Michael resumed playing with his tie, and Jim leaned back against the wall, mostly confident Michael was dropping the subject.

"This last year has kind of sucked," Michael said after a minute.

Jim nodded, "Yeah, it has."

"I almost got fired, and I've broken up with two girlfriends. And I don't really want this job."

Jim looked over at Michael with an arched eyebrow.

"I mean, I thought I did, it's what I should want, right? It's a promotion, what idiot wouldn't want a promotion?"

Jim shrugged, "If you don't want it, you don't want it. What's the use in fooling yourself that you do?" Michael nodded, and Jim's eyes returned to the floor.

"Hey, I bet there's a Hooter's around here, want to grab some lunch?" Michael suggested.

Jim shook his head and started to stand up, "Nah, I think I'm going to start heading home." He turned to Michael and offered his hand for a handshake. "Good luck, Michael."

Michael looked at Jim's hand and scoffed. He stood, put his arms up, and motioned to Jim to give him a hug. Jim sighed and stepped forward, letting out a puff of air as he was engulfed by Michael's bear-hug.

"I hope you find what you want," Michael said quietly.

Jim patted Michael's back, and Michael squeezed Jim one more time before letting go. Jim said good-bye to Michael and started towards the rotating door.

As Jim walked to his car, his mind flashed to Pam, standing before him on the beach. He blinked multiple times, trying to focus on the sounds of the busy Midtown Manhattan street, but he kept seeing the pained look in her eyes and hearing the pleading in her voice when she said she missed him. He thoughts of Michael's words. "The girl you love just told you she loves you back, I don't see what's so complicated." Jim shook his head; it was so frustrating how clueless Michael could be about people and relationships. But what was even more frustrating was that once in a great while, Jim had to force himself to admit Michael Gary Scott may actually be right.

It was about eleven in the morning when Pam walked into the conference room to sit down with the camera crew. The cameraman asked her to comment on the possibility of someone leaving for corporate. Pam watched the red "record" light turn on, and took a deep breath.

"If Michael gets the open position at corporate, things would definitely be different around here. Yesterday Dwight gave us a preview of what it would be like if he's the regional manager. He told half the staff he's firing them when Michael leaves, and asked me to be his personal consultant on 'female matters.'" Pam stopped and sighed. "Fortunately there are several want ads for receptionists in today's Times-Tribune," she finished with a half-smile. She realized the cameraman wanted her to talk about all the people who interviewed, and glanced down to her hands.

"If Karen gets the job," she took a second to think about her words carefully, "I'll be a little sad just because she's really nice and smart, and I wish we could have been better friends.

"And if Jim goes," Pam's voice cracked a little on the last word, and she cleared her throat. "I'll . . . Jim's had a rough year, I think, and he deserves to be happy, if that means moving to New York then that's –"

Pam bit her lip and looked down, her eyes stinging. She blinked back the tears and looked up at the camera. "I want Jim to be happy," she said with a nod. The red light turned off, and Pam wiped her eyes and left the conference room.

Jim lifted his head when he heard a sniff, and saw Pam walking out of the conference room and into Michael's office. He craned his neck to try to pick up their conversation before realizing how obviously he was watching Pam, then his eyes shifted to Karen. Surprisingly, she seemed engrossed in her work. Karen had been like that all week; working diligently, coming over to Jim's desk only when she had a question or needed something signed. Jim didn't know if he was concerned or relieved that she was no longer hanging out at his desk all day.

Thoughts of Karen disappeared from Jim's mind when he saw Pam come out of Michael's office and walk over to accounting.

"Hey guys, I'm going home early," Jim heard her say. "Does anyone want to sit at my desk for the rest of the day?"

Oscar quickly volunteered and Pam returned to her desk. Jim glanced at Karen, whose eyes were still glued on her computer screen, then stood and walked to reception.

"Any messages?" he asked.

Pam shook her head no without looking up. She started gathering her things.

"You heading out?" Jim asked quietly.

"Yeah, I don't feel very good. I think it's something I ate last night," Pam said with a grimace.

"Did you cook your dinner in your breakfast kitchen again?"

Pam looked up, puzzled, then Jim raised his eyebrows, and Pam laughed.

"No, I've been very good about cooking all my meals in their designated kitchens," Pam said, smiling.

Jim chuckled; Pam smiling at him still made his heart jump a little, which both excited and scared him. "Pam..." he started.

"How did your interview go?" Pam said in a cheerful tone that didn't match her expression at all.

Jim gazed down at the surface of Pam's desk. "Good," he said with a nod. "They said they might call as early as today."

Pam nodded and forced a smiled, then leaned down to get her purse from under her desk.

"Pam," Jim said again, quietly.

Pam paused and took a deep breath before meeting Jim's eyes.

"If they offer me this job…" Jim looked down, and shifted his weight. "Whatever the result, I want to talk to you."

"Okay, whenever you're ready." She smiled softly, and Jim smiled back and returned to his desk.

Jim found himself holding his breath every time the front desk phone rang, anticipating the interview results from corporate, but there was no word from corporate or anyone all afternoon. Jim started gathering his things to leave just before five o'clock, glancing at Karen's desk as he stood up. She had left about ten minutes prior without even a glance at Jim.

Dwight uttered something about how Jim shouldn't bother to come in on Monday, but Jim was hardly in the mood to engage with his desk mate. Jim turned, gave Oscar a nod good-bye and started for the Dunder Mifflin entrance.

When Jim reached his car, he got in and sat silently with the engine off, his mind swirling with thoughts of corporate, of Karen, of Pam. A ringing came from his bag and his dug out his cell phone, sitting up a little straighter when he saw the New York area code.

"Jim Halpert."

"Hey, Jim, it's David Wallace."

"Hello, how are you today, sir?"

"I'm fine, I apologize for calling at the end of the day here, but the board just came a decision about the position, and I wanted to call you personally."

Jim took a deep breath. He had thought about what he was going to say all day, but it didn't make him any less nervous. "David, I wanted to tell you thank you for considering me for this position, but –"

"Jim, I regret to inform you –"

Jim wasn't listening, "I am no longer interested –"

"– We are not offering you this position."

Jim stopped. "Oh," he said after a pause.

"The board decided to go with the Assistant Regional Manager from Albany. It was a very close decision, and I personally felt you had the superior interview, but it came down to experience."

Jim exhaled, surprised at how relieved he felt.

"I want you to know you will be the first person I will consider if another job opens up at corporate."

"Thank you, sir," Jim said. He closed his phone, and smiled. "Thanks but no thanks," he said quietly to himself. He started the car and reached down to shift into gear when his phone rang again. Karen.

Jim chewed his lip, considering letting the call go to voicemail, before he grabbed the phone. "Hey."

"I was just stopping by, where are you?" Karen said in a flat tone.

"I'm just leaving work, I'll be there in five," Jim said.

"Okay," Karen hung up without saying good-bye.

Jim tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and put the car in reverse. He knew what was about to happen, and was in no rush to get to his apartment.

Jim reached his apartment building and was barely out of his car when he heard a "Hey," and saw Karen walking over.

"Hi," Jim replied, grabbing his messenger bag. "You want to go up?" he asked half-heartedly.

Karen motioned back to her car, "I actually can't stay very long."

"Okay," Jim put his hand in his pocket and shuffled his feet. "Wallace just called me. I didn't get –"

"I know," Karen interjected, "His secretary called me a few minutes ago. Some guy from Albany."

"Yeah," Jim said.

"I wanted to tell you that . . . I got another call today."

Jim looked up.

"I've been offered a job in Manhattan, at a bank," Karen said quickly.

Jim knitted his brows, "When did you interview for that?"

Karen bit her lip and looked to the side, "When I told you I was having dinner with old friends." She looked back to Jim, "I know I should have told you."

Jim shook his head. Lord knows he had omitted plenty of things in the last six months, he wasn't about to get angry at Karen for that.

"I'm taking it. I've already told Michael." She let out a laugh, "He said he understands that I want to quit the family and I can leave immediately if I want. And you know what? I'm not going to fight him on that."

A chuckle escaped Jim's lips, and then he looked at Karen. She was smart, funny, beautiful, everything Jim knew he should want in a girlfriend. He also knew she deserved way more than he ever managed to give her.

"Karen, about New York…"

Karen crossed her arms, eyes squarely on Jim.

"…I don't know if it's for me," he finished.

Karen pursed her lips, "That's fine, because I wasn't going to ask you to come anyway."

Jim's eyebrows raised at the frankness of her comment. He looked at Karen, and she coolly returned his gaze until her chin trembled and she turned her head.

"I'm so sorry," Jim said quietly.

Karen sniffed and looked back at Jim; the tears beading in the corners of her eyes reflected the setting sun. "Me too."

Jim slipped his hands out of his pockets and stepped forward, but Karen took a step back.

"Good-bye, Jim," she said softly. Her heels clicked as she walked to her car.

"Bye," he whispered as she turned out of the parking lot.

Pam didn't even want to know how many different colored smudges were on her face as she stood up to take a look at her painting. It was her final project for the quarter, and her instructor had encouraged her to try acrylics. After using watercolors almost exclusively for years, the bold colors were still a bit jarring to Pam, but she was finally starting to like her results.

She didn't want to admit she had been thinking about Jim all weekend, but she had; wondering if he had heard back from Wallace, if he was really going to New York. She was initially upset at the thought of Jim leaving. The Jim she knew; the one who joked around with her all day, the one who cheered her up whenever Roy was being a jerk (which she now realized was often), the one who told her he loved her and kissed her in a way that made her question the last decade of her life, that Jim would have never considered moving to New York City. But Pam had accepted a few things since Monday and one was the very real possibility that Jim had changed. She knew she had changed significantly since that cool May night; that even six months ago she couldn't have dreamed of saying what she said at the beach to anyone, much less the whole office. She had changed, and so had he, and perhaps now was the time for both of them to move on.

Her phone started to ring, and she quickly wiped her hands on a rag and looked to see Jim was calling. She took a deep breath and answered.

"Hey, Pam, are you busy?" he said in a tone that Pam couldn't decided was sad or angry or anything.

"No," Pam said. Her painting wasn't due until Tuesday.

"I was hoping we could talk," he said, still in that unrecognizable tone. "I mean, in person."

"Okay," Pam said, proud of herself for sounding calm though her stomach was knotting up.

"Can we meet at the office in a half hour?"

"Cool, see you then." She hit the "end" button and set the cell-phone down before scoffing softly. The office, why on earth did he want to meet at the office? She was ready to call back and suggest a coffee shop, or a fast-food restaurant. Heck, the library would have been a better location; at least she could walk in there without being reminded of all the mistakes she's made. Get it together, Beesly, she told herself, and she walked to the bathroom to clean herself up.

* * * * *

Pam walked off the elevator and around the corner to see the door to the office was already ajar. As she pushed the door open and walked slowly into the darkened room, her mind was assaulted with images. The bridesmaid dress from Roy's sister's wedding, the phone cord she curled her fingers in, the ring that felt oddly heavy on her hand, a tall slouching figure, "Um, I have to go." "Talk to him, Pam." "I will."

She entered the main room and saw Jim sitting at his desk, drumming his fingers. She stopped when he looked up and they stared at each other for several long seconds before he stood and half smiled, "Hi."

"Hey," Pam said. She had a quick flash to coke cans and a game of jinx that went too far before looking towards the kitchen. She saw Karen's desk was empty and sharply inhaled, then looked past Jim to see his desk was clear save a cardboard box full of his things. She clenched her jaw and looked down to her fumbling hands.

"So..." Jim started. Pam lifted her head. "Um, sorry for asking you to meet here, especially on a weekend."

Pam laughed nervously, "It's fine, Dunder-Mifflin is my second home, whether I like it or not."

Jim smiled, and Pam couldn't help but look at the box on his desk again. At least he's saying goodbye this time, she thought.

"So here goes," Jim said softly. "I guess I'll start off with I'm sorry."

"Okay," Pam said with a nod.

"‘Okay'? You don't want to know what I'm sorry about?" Jim said with a bit of a smirk.

Despite her best efforts, Pam felt her mouth twist into a smile, "Okay, James Halpert, for what misdeed are you apologizing?"

They both chuckled before Jim locked eyes with her, his expression serious as well as sad. "You were right, things are weird between us, and I'm sorry for letting it get that way."

Pam's breath quickened, "That's just as much my fault -"

"But I certainly haven't helped things," Jim said, shaking his head. He looked down, "I'm sorry I didn't go to your art show."

Pam wanted to laugh; she had almost forgotten the art show part of her speech. "I understand why you didn't come. I'm not upset with you about that." She shrugged, "You didn't really miss much anyway."

"Are you going to let me apologize or what?" Jim said in a play-annoyed tone.

Pam waved her hands, "Okay, okay, I'll stop interrupting." She laced her fingers together. "Proceed."

"That's better," Jim said, looking at Pam with narrowed eyes. Pam stifled a laugh, and the serious look returned to Jim's face. "But really, it was important to you, and I should have been there to support you."

Pam nodded.

"I'm sorry I blew you off in the break room after the whole Roy attacking thing. I just, I think about the way I've been treating you the last three months or so, and I'm not very proud of it, and I'm sorry."

"Okay," Pam said. She twisted her fingers and glance at Jim's old desk, rembering how softly he asked if she was still marrying Roy and how reluctantly they let go of each other hands. "There are more than a few things I've done in the past year that I'm not very proud of either." She watched Jim bite his lip, and she took a deep breath, "Especially what I said on Casino Night."

Jim continued to look her in the eyes, despite his shaking hands than he eventually shoved in his pockets.

"Jim," Pam didn't even try to hide her trembling chin, "what I said about you misinterpreting things was...I shouldn't have said it and I'm sorry."

Jim pressed his lips together and started shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Okay," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. He turned to his desk, and Pam wiped her eyes. She knew that apology would be "too little, too late" but she wanted to say it, and she felt better for it.

She looked down at her hands and Jim turned back to her, holding the box of things from his desk. "So, I asked to meet here because I wanted you to be here when I did this," he said.

Pam's vision was blurry, and she grabbed her sides to try to stop shaking. She tried to look at Jim, but it was too hard, so she looked down at her feet until she heard a "plop" and the sound of things knocking into each other. She looked up to see Jim had placed the box on his old desk.

Something wasn't quite registering for Pam as her eyes darted between Jim and the box that was now sitting on his old desk. "What are you doing?" she thought out loud.

Jim knitted his brows. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he said in a light sarcastic tone as he took the blue frame with a picture of him and his brother out of the box and propped it up on the old desk.

Pam walked to the desk to stand next to Jim. "But...I mean...why?"

Jim continued to unload his box, "Believe it or not, facing Dwight head on for eight hours a day is not as great as it sounds." He looked over at Pam and smirked. "Plus the receptionist here is pretty cute and this gives me a better view."

Pam felt herself blush, but tried to ignore it. "What happened with Wallace?"

Jim put down the desk lamp in his hand and turned to Pam. "I told him I appreciated the opportunity but I couldn't accept the position."

Pam stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Actually, he told me they gave the position to someone from the Albany branch. But if he had offered me the position, that's what I would have said."

Pam chuckled, and Jim followed suit. Pam glanced at the empty desk between them and the kitchen. "And Karen?"

Jim let out a sigh, "Yeah, um, she got a job at a bank in Manhattan. And we talked on Friday for what I'm reasonably sure was the last time."

Pam felt a pang of guilt in her chest. "Sorry," she said quietly.

Jim shrugged. "Not your fault."

Pam gave Jim her best "are you sure about that?" look, and Jim smiled.

"Okay, maybe it was a tiny bit your fault, but only because you sped up the inevitable. Karen and I were never...I don't know if I ever really acted like myself around her." He laughed softly, "I somehow doubt she would have kept me around long if I had."

Pam smiled, and she started to feel as light as she did on beach day. Karen never knew the real Jim, but Pam did. She knew him, and that was why he was coming back to her.

Jim took a step closer and started talking in a low voice. "I've missed you." Pam couldn't help but gulp a little. He shook his head in slight disbelief, "I'm missed you so much it ridiculous." He glanced down to his old desk, "But I don't want things to go back to what they were before I transferred."

"I don't either," Pam said quietly. I can't go back, she thought. She often reflected on how she was before Jim left, how meek and in denial she was and how she was so ready to give up happiness for the familiarity and security of Roy, she hardly could believe that was really her anymore.

"I still . . . want more." Pam detected a little nervousness in his voice for the first time tonight. "I mean, not right now, but eventually." He cracked a smile, "and when I say ‘eventually', I'm hoping sooner rather than later."

Pam couldn't resist the urge to tease. "You mean, like in an hour."

He pondered her comment. "Maybe not that ‘sooner,' unless that's what you want."

Pam laughed, "Let's at least leave the office before we decide when ‘sooner' is."

"Good call." He turned back to the box and took his files out to put them in the old desk. "There," he exclaimed as he closed the drawer.

Pam nodded to the desk. "So how do you feel after your big move?"

"Good." He looked at Pam and smiled, "Great, actually."

Pam stepped forward, wrapped her arms around Jim's middle, and rested her cheek on his chest. "That's good."

Jim returned the hug, and they stood like that for several seconds. Pam closed her eyes and the only sound she could hear was Jim as he breathed in and out.

"So, um, do you what the other problem with Karen was?"

Pam felt her lips curl a little and lifted her head, keeping her arms around Jim. "What?"

"She was a really bad prank partner." Jim scoffed, "I mean, did you hear her when I was trying to convince Dwight I was a vampire?"

She may have been entrenched with Roy at the time, but Pam could remember Karen's somewhat wooden performance that day. She smirked "Well, I wasn't going to say anything..."

Jim shook his head, "Man, just sub-par, you know?" He let go of Pam and started digging around the bottom of the box on his desk. He placed a cardboard box that looked like it held some sort of computer program disc inside on his desk. "How much Spanish do you think you can learn in the next 12 hours?"

Pam's eyes widened when she read the title on the box, Easy Español. She remembered Michael buying it when he was trying to hit on the FedEx delivery woman, who turned out to be Brazilian.

"It was in the supply closet," Jim said, answering Pam's unasked question. He dropped a thick manual on the desk, "Along with this."

Pam looked to see it was a Spanish version of the Dunder-Mifflin employee handbook. "Are we convincing Dwight he's been transported to Mexico?"

Jim pointed to Pam, "This is why you're the superior prank partner." He grabbed the manual and a pile of paper out of his box and sat in Dwight's chair. Pam giggled and all-but-skipped over to help Jim replace all of Dwight's files with random papers written in Spanish. Jim then turned on Dwight's computer.

"I'm going to change Dwight's username to "SenorDwightSchrute," Jim said to Pam over his shoulder.

"Nice," she said, watching Jim log in to Dwight computer. "Wait, you know his password?"

"QueenNoelle15, he changes the number once it a while, but it's been QueenNoelle-something since the beginning of last year."

"Huh." Pam remembered Angela's middle name was Noelle. "That's weird."

Jim waited a few seconds before answering. "Not that weird."

Pam's jaw dropped. "You know?"

Jim swiveled around to face her. "Know what?" He then lifted his eyebrow and pursed his lips to do his Angela impression.

"Oh my God!" Pam laughed.

Jim turned off Dwight's computer. "Okay, that's done, let's get out of here." Jim tucked the box under his arm and Pam grabbed Easy Español and followed him out of the office, giggling as they walked to the elevator.

* * * * *

On the elevator, they exchanged their stories on when each of them found out about Dwight and Angela. Pam nearly screamed when Jim told her he caught them making out on Angela's desk, and they laughed as they made their way through the lobby and out the doors of the building.

The air was crisp, and the sky was still light blue and orange over the western horizon. They walked slowly and went over the details of how they were going to prank Dwight in the morning. As they walked and talked, Pam halfway-on-purpose let her free hand bump into Jim's, and after the fourth "accidental" bump, Jim took her hand. The warmth of Jim's hand traveled up her arm, and for the first time in a very long time Pam truly felt everything was going to be okay.