“The Office” Fan Fic

“Jump the Hedges First”

Title is from lyrics to “Sweet Thing” by Van Morrison

 

While Jim and Pam might be headed towards cutesy togetherness, they’re going to have to deal with more than a few obstacles along the way.

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

This fan fic takes place immediately after the end of “The Job” season finale. Pam’s still gazing into the camera with a delighted grin spread across her face.

 

“Wow,” she manages, stumbling for something intelligent to say, well aware that she’s on camera. “That, uh … that’s pretty unexpected. I, uh, I should get back.”

 

Jake, the camera guy, flips off the record switch and finishes off the rest of his cold coffee. He can see that she needs a moment to compose herself. And he’s taking tomorrow – Friday – off, heading up to Lake Erie with his old frat brothers for a well-needed long weekend. Kurtz has been running him ragged for the past few months – making him follow the D/M crew all over the tri-state area, it feels like. To the beach, back and forth from New York … he needs some serious R&R, and he’s ready to clock out for the day.

 

“No problem. You two have fun on your date.”

 

Pam’s cheeks burn. “Um, you’re not … not coming with us.” It didn’t sound like a question; it was more like begging.

 

Jake’s already packing up his camera supplies; mentally, he’s already ten, fifteen miles away from downtown Scranton. “Oh, nah – I have to get going. Going out of town this weekend.”

 

“Oh, okay then.” Relief spreads across her face. This helps to calm her down. “That’s great, actually. Nothing against you … it’ll just be nice to, you know, not have everyone know everything.”

 

“Totally. Right.”

 

Pam takes a deep breath, tries to steady herself, and gets up, heading towards the door. She hesitates, squints, and pulls the cord to open the blinds in the conference room – where Kelly, Angela, Dwight and Phyllis are standing. Dwight somehow has a bucket of movie theater popcorn. Kelly’s fists are curled into excited little balls and she looks ready to burst with excitement. Phyllis’ eyes are shining a bit, and Angela – well, Angela’s pretty much expressionless. As is Dwight, who is happily chomping away on his popcorn. As Pam looks on, he wipes his buttery fingers across his matching yellow shirt.

 

Openmouthed, she hurries past them, across the office and into the women’s bathroom. The expectations on their faces bother her, make her much more nervous. Probably because those expectations match her own – the ones she doesn’t want to admit that she has. There’s a lot of pressure – on what tonight means, what will be said, what happened between Jim and Karen in New York – and while she told Jake and the camera that she’s okay with things, that she just wants Jim to be happy – that’s just what she was settling for. The possibility that maybe things might work out between the two of them – it’s something that, up until five minutes ago, had seemed impossible.

 

She leans forward, gripping the sides of the bathroom sink with her hands. She looks down – oh, she should’ve worn nail polish today. She bites them. And her hands are sweaty. Maybe Jim would be holding them later? Looking into the mirror, another massive smile appears on her face – and this time, she has an opportunity to see how happy the thought makes her. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but –

 

A foul stench wafts across the room, and Pam’s nose crinkles. The toilet in the corner stall flushes, the door opens, and Creed walks out, looking quite proud of himself. “Hey, Phyllis,” he says.”

 

“It’s, uh, it’s Pam.” She takes an involuntary step away, then two – then nearly runs from the bathroom.

 

 

* * *

 

“I’m baaaaack,” announces Michael, as the entire office staff – minus Karen and Jim, who’s nowhere to be found since his dinner invitation to Pam – sits in the conference room, looking bored. Pam glances up at the clock impatiently. It’s 4:49, and even on an uneventful day her motivation would have been long gone by now. About a half-hour after Pam’s run-in with Creed, Kelly had pulled her by the arm back into the women’s bathroom (it still smells) and burst into tears.

 

“He broke … up … with … me,” she sobbed, burying her face on Pam’s shoulder.

 

“Umm… I’m really sorry, Kelly,” Pam responds, patting her a bit awkwardly on the head. “Hold on one minute.” She walks over to the table and chairs and lights one of the verbena Bath & Body Works candles. “Somebody should really talk to Michael about Creed,” she mutters.

 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she replies. “So, what happened?”

 

Kelly sniffles. “I’m really sorry to do this to you, Pam. I know you have your big date with Jim tonight.” She pauses. “Do you need condoms? Because, believe me, I won’t be needing them anymore.”

 

Pam looks like she might die of embarrassment. “Umm… “

 

Kelly keeps right on going. “Who am I kidding. You won’t need them. I mean, he just broke up with Karen. He’s probably all broken up about it. He’s not going to want another relationship. He’s a guy. He’s probably going to want to sleep around, like all guys do, ‘cause they’re dogs. You know?” And then, immediately switching topics: “I mean, I should’ve known. Ryan has been SO weird lately. He never calls me in the middle of the night anymore to protect him from psycho killers, but I thought that was because he just got one of those new home security systems, where if someone breaks in it calls the police? So like, he gets this phone call.” She starts welling up again. “And he gets this like, evil smile and tells me we’re done. He’s got to be seeing someone else.”

 

“Why would you think that?”

 

“He’s transferring to New York. He’s moving. He says there’s going to be a lot of changes around here. And he says we’re done,” she wails. “I really think he might be seeing someone up in New York.”

 

“You’re going to be okay,” Pam assures her.

 

“Seriously, what am I going to do with all of the new Vicky’s stuff I just bought? Do you want it? It’s mostly unused.”

 

“Um, I’m good, thanks.”

 

“They’re probably too small for you. Well, the bottoms, anyway.”

* * *

“So, as I was saying … I’m baaack. And here to stay.”

 

Pam blinks. It’s now 5:57. Michael’s been talking for nearly ten minutes about – well, about something, but she’s been running back Kelly’s words in her mind. He’s probably all broken up … he’s not going to want another relationship. And where was Jim, anyway? Seriously. She found herself feeling a little annoyed – not to mention worried. Where were they going? What time? Should she go home, or were they going straight from work? And, even worse, what if he’d changed his mind and driven back to New York?

 

And then, the bombs dropped.

“Unfortunately, not everyone’s staying here in Scranton,” Michael adds, suddenly sounding pained. Pam glances at Ryan, who looks a bit uncomfortable, and a little smug. Across the table, Dwight is taking furious notes. “We’ve got some changes in staff, and, according to corporate, two new positions are being created.”

 

Suddenly, everyone’s paying attention – even Stanley, Creed and Meredith – who’s sipping from a mysterious-smelling 7/11 Jumbo Slurpee.

 

“Changes in staff?” Angela demands to know. She’s sitting with Kelly, who’s on the far end of the room from Ryan, a tissue still in hand. She’s also changed her clothes, and is wearing all black, as if in mourning. “What changes in staff?”

 

“Apparently…” Michael, awkward, trails off and looks to Ryan for assistance.

 

“I’m going to be moving to corporate,” Ryan says. “I’m taking Jan’s position.”

 

“That’s what she said.”

 

“Wait,” says Stanley, slow to comprehend. “You’re going to be Michael’s boss.” He raises a furry eyebrow.

 

“Yes.”

 

Stanley laughs. Dwight looks outraged. “Wait, so this – this temp – who’s never made a sale before – he’s going to manage you? Michael Scott?”

 

“Moving on, let’s talk about these two new positions. First, we are going to be getting a new intern. Stanley’s daughter. Too bad you won’t be around to molest her, Ryan.”

 

Ryan says nothing; Stanley looks like he’s going to snort fire from his nostrils.

 

Michael laughs. “Okay, it’s not really Stanley’s daughter. Her name is Cassandra, and she came very highly recommended. She’s very interested in paper. She’s just going to work part-time, because she is a student at Scranton University. She’s in the art program.”

 

Oh. Pam feels a slight tinge of jealousy, even though she’s never met this Cassandra person. She’d really wanted to go to art school; there just hadn’t been money, and the associate’s degree in business administration she’d gotten at the local community college, of course, didn’t include any art classes. Her parents and Roy had convinced her that business was a more practical career to pursue. Then she was working, and the longer she waited to go back, the less likely it seemed. Sure, there was the painting class she had taken at night, which she’d enjoyed, but she still had a lot to learn before she could actually do anything with it professionally. It really was too bad kids didn’t like her; otherwise, maybe she could be a teacher.

 

There was that graphic design program that Dunder Mifflin was offering … but that was in New York, and too much was swirling around inside her brain to give it a second thought.

 

“Pam, you’ll probably need to train Cassandra,” says Michael, clearing his throat. “The second position is being created to oversee all sales and administrative staff.” Pam looks at Michael quizzically. “Well, Ryan’s first move in his new position is that, with all of my many responsibilities, someone be placed as an intermediary manager between myself and all of my employees.”

 

Ryan now looks very smug, Pam thinks.

 

Dwight’s panicked. “So will I still be your assistant?”

 

“Your position won’t change,” Michael assures him. “None of your positions will.”

 

“Michael, doesn’t that make your job sort of … unnecessary?” Pam ventures.

 

The entire room falls silent.

 

Michael laughs awkwardly. “Silly Pam. I think maybe when you walked on those coals, the fire spread to your brain. This person will report to me, and I’ll oversee everything they do. I’ll still sign all the monthly reports, do all the hiring and firing, and all of that.”

 

“Do we know who this person will be?” asks Stanley.

 

“We’re on the verge of making a decision, and corporate wants this person put into place right away. We want it to be someone who’ll be fair, smart and not let their, er, personal life get in the way of their job. I guess they felt like that was the issue with Jan and me,” says Michael, a bit embarrassed.

 

Suddenly, a flash of motion from outside the conference room. Pam looks up from her notes, where she’s been doodling – and there’s Jim, still dressed in his outfit from the interview. He’s holding her coat in sort of a “let’s go” gesture.

 

“Anyway, guys, go have a nice evening. And feel assured in the fact that I, Michael Scott, who is and will always be the manager… of your hearts … is not – going – anywhere.”

 

Rustling of chairs, papers and coffee cups as everyone gets up, Kelly flees. Michael hadn’t seen Jim come back from the interview earlier, Pam thinks, and so Michael doesn’t realize that Jim’s skipped his all-important meeting.

 

She takes her time collecting her things until everyone’s gone. Jim peeks his head in the door.

 

“Well, sorry I missed that,” he says with a sly smile. “It looked thrilling.”

 

“It was. Michael says he’s going to start be a more hands-off manager.”

 

“I’ve been hoping he might,” Jim says with a chuckle, holding Pam’s coat for her as she steps into it. They walk towards the door.

 

“So where were you,” she asks, hoping she doesn’t sound as worried as she felt.

 

“Well … driving back here at 90 miles an hour wasn’t exactly how I had planned today would go,” he says, and for the first time she looks at him and realizes he must be exhausted. It’s been a long day for him. “But I wanted us to do something cool, so that took a tiny bit of prep time.”

 

She smiles. “You didn’t have to do anything special.”

 

He looks back at her with a half-smile, and the pair walk outside. It’s a remarkably chilly night for June, but the sun is still bright in the sky. “Why don’t we take my car,” Jim says.

 

“Okay,” Pam says, suddenly feeling nervous and quiet. No one’s around now to distract them, and it makes her a bit uneasy.

 

They get into Jim’s car and he starts the engine; “Little Razorblade” by the Pink Spiders – an indie band that Pam had discovered and had introduced Jim to, back in the day – was in the CD player. He drives for about five minutes, in a mostly comfortable silence, when she decides to speak.

 

“So where are we going?” she asks with a smile. “Is it a surprise?”

 

Jim grins, and she knows he’s got something up his sleeve. Some of the nervousness falls away, and she can see the old Jim, the way he was before. “You know, I think we might need a map.”

 

“A map?”

 

“Yeah, why don’t you check in the glove compartment. I wouldn’t want to get us lost.”

 

“Okay.” She leans forward and pops the glove compartment open – and a wrapped package slides out onto her lap. There’s a little note on it that has her name on it. “Jim – what…”

 

Jim feigns surprise, making a goofy face. “What is that? Where are all my maps?”

 

She tears open the wrapping paper. It’s a set – a really nice set – of watercolor paints. Like, one that she knew cost $40 or $50 bucks. She’d always wanted one, but she’d really had to watch her pennies since the new apartment.

 

“These are awesome, Jim. I … I don’t know what to say.”

 

They made a left at the last stop sign before the highway exit ramp and Pam realized they were in Jim’s apartment complex.

 

“I wanted to thank you,” he says, looking over as often as he can while still safely driving. “I realized how good a friend you’ve been, and you deserve it.” He gets out of the car, leaving her sitting there, staring down at the paint set. Friend. Huh. She nods slightly, trying not to let any emotion show.

 

He’s walking around to her side, and opens the door for her. She pulls her lips together in an obviously put-on smile that feels plastic. They walk to the front door of his apartment in silence. He goes to put the key in the lock, and then turns around.

 

“That came out wrong. I’m not saying the right things here.”

 

Pam looks at him, doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t know what to say. He laughs, but not the normal easygoing Jim laugh – it’s nervous, uneven.

 

“I’m not good at this, Pam.”

 

She takes a deep breath and continues to look at him.

 

“It’s okay,” she responds finally. “I’m not really either. Why don’t we go inside and talk.”

 

He smiles, relaxing a bit. “Okay.”

 

The apartment looks different than the last time Pam was here – for Jim’s party, which seemed forever ago. Everything’s clean and quiet, but the living room seems especially – big. Or empty. Or something.

 

“Are you moving?” Pam blurts out. Jim laughs.

 

“Why don’t we go out there,” he says, gesturing to the little patio off of the living room. He slides the door open for her and she immediately realizes why the apartment seems so huge. The couch is now on the patio, which is listing slightly to the right and which would have worried her immensely had the apartment not been on the ground floor of the building.

 

Pam sits down on the couch, still carrying her beautiful paint set. She doesn’t want to put it down on the couch next to her since she feared Jim might read that as a “stay away” sign. Connie, her best friend in high school (who was now married to a dry cleaner and had two babies) had always admonished her that she gave out “stay away” signals. That was before she met Roy, anyway.

 

Jim slides the screen door closed and steps next to a small round barbecue. The barbecue and the couch basically take up the entire balcony. But it’s nice. It’s nearly full dark now, and there’s a nice breeze wafting by. There are a few potted plants on the ledge of the balcony, Pam sees, that look like they could use some water. But it sort of reminds her of the garden balcony she’d always wanted. Maybe it wasn’t exactly the way she’d pictured it. Her daydream didn’t include the scent of burning barbecue coals and the distant sounds of cars speeding down Route 76. But that was okay. Because the dream had always included someone like Jim.

 

With this realization, she squeezes the paint set tightly and waits nervously to hear what Jim would say or do next.

 

“Hungry?” he asks, lifting the lid off the barbecue and spatula-ing something onto a paper plate. She smiles, unable to speak; he smiles back and hands it to her, then disappears into the house, returning with two Cokes and a candle. “To keep the bugs away,” he says, lighting it and placing it on the balcony next to the plants. He sits down next to her, and for the first time she looks down at what he’s served her. She grins.

 

“I know it’s not fancy, but at least we both know I can very successfully make grilled cheese,” Jim says sheepishly. They both take a couple of bites. Pam sort of wishes that the Cokes were beers, but suspects that probably wouldn’t be the best idea.

 

She puts her plate down. “Is this weird?” she asks. “I hope this isn’t weird.”

 

Jim’s chewing; he holds up his hand for one minute, then swallows and clears his throat. “I’m sorry if I’m a little quiet. It’s been a weird day. This is actually, probably, the least weird part of my day.”

 

She blushes. “Good. So … do you want to tell me about it? Your day?”

 

Jim smiles a bit. “Not yet. But I will.”

 

Pam nods, serious. “Are you back? Are you moving there?”

 

It seems like an eternity before he answers. “No, I’m back.”

 

“Good.” She’s happy, but torn between feelings that it would just be nice to sit here with him, watching the candle flicker and light up the plants and the half-empty parking lot of the apartment complex; and the feeling that they had waited long enough, why couldn’t they be together, or at least say or do something that made the situation more clear? “I’m glad.”

 

He doesn’t say anything, but Pam can tell that he’s not upset; he’s thinking. “You must be really tired,” she says. “Maybe I should go?”

 

He looks at her for a moment, analyzing her face. “I think you should stay.”

 

She nods. “Okay.” In her head, she hears herself asking, Jim, can I ask you a question? I know you’re tired, and it’s been a long day, but I’m wondering – is this a real date? She’s desperate to ask these words, but just isn’t brave enough.

 

Jim suddenly chuckles a little. “What?” she asks.

 

“Oh, nothing.”

 

“What?”

 

“Karen would be very pissed off at me,” he says, and at first she thinks he means she’d be pissed because he left her in New York. “Like, every time we hung out, we had to do something, go somewhere, to some fancy restaurant or some important movie.” He glances at Pam. “Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoy … doing stuff … but like, any time I wanted to just talk … or not talk … and just hang out, she hated it. She’d be sitting on the couch with her arms crossed, tapping her foot, rolling her eyes … you get the idea.”

 

“Yeah,” Pam says, a bit saddened that Karen is still clearly in Jim’s mind.

 

“This is… different,” he says, looking at her, searching her face for words, any words.

 

“Yeah,” she repeats, once again feeling nervous, but unable to look away. Change the subject, she thinks, panicked. “I lied,” she blurts. “I liked your hair better the other way. All messy. It looked good.”

 

Jim grins. “I knew it. Well, I’m growing it back. I look like I’m like, twelve years old.”

 

Pam laughs. “You don’t look twelve.” Okay, enough, she thinks, enough worrying about time or looking stupid or having grilled cheese breath. “You look … you look like Jim.”

 

He laughs, moving closer to her. “Well, that’s a good thing.” His thoughtful face just a few inches away now, he takes a deep breath. “I want this to happen, but slowly, okay?”

 

She presses her lips together again, but this time to try and prevent the goofy grin from appearing on her face. She understands, and even agrees. “Okay,” she whispers, and they kiss. Pam can feel the warmth of the candlelight and of Jim’s hand on the side of her face, and beneath his sweater she can feel his heart pounding in time with hers. It’s not a sloppy, drunk, lusty kiss like the first (or second) one she shared with Roy, whose breath always smelled of whisky and whose hand seemed to instantaneously be up her shirt. It was amazing how this was so different, so … respectful, patient even after all these years, yet still feel so … important. Like something big.

 

They pull back at the same time, and he touches his forehead to hers, letting out a deep breath that sounds relieved and relaxed at the same time. She doesn’t prevent the smile from lighting up her entire face, and she’s glad when he sees it and smiles back.

 

“I’m really glad you’re back,” she says.

 

“Me too.”

 

“I was nervous,” she says, putting her arms around him. “Like, ridiculously nervous.”

 

He laughs, reciprocating the hug. “Not me. You should’ve seen me at the interview in New York – I was Mr. Smooth.”

 

Suddenly, from behind them, comes the flash of a camera light.

 

“Nice, Jim!” They both recognize the voice immediately; it’s Michael. “Can you move to the left a little? This’ll be perfect for Myspace!”

 

Jim jumps up, their mouths drop open.

 

“Let’s, uh, let’s go inside,” he says, shutting off the grill.

 

“Good idea,” she agrees, following him, shutting the door behind her.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Jim and Pam roll into the office late, like 25 minutes late, both of them carrying giant cups of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. She was wearing the same outfit as yesterday – but whatever, it was casual Friday. I know what they’re all thinking, Pam thinks as she hangs up her jean jacket and sits quietly at the front desk. And you know what? Let them think whatever they want! Triumphant and still giddy from the previous night, Pam replays everything in her head as she starts up her computer. They’d been up all night talking – about everything. She’d slept in his bed with him, but no funny business. She liked that. It was totally different than with Roy. It was nice, though, to wake up a little before him, and just listen to him sleep, his arm curled around her waist.

 

Back at his old desk, Jim wore jeans and a dark blue hooded sweatshirt, his hair free of gel. Even devoid of sleep, he felt as if he were running on adrenaline. Last night, as he told Pam more and more about the interview, about seeing her medal, about Karen, about hearing about her calling off the wedding – about everything – he felt lighter and lighter. And he thought, as long as they took things slowly and took time to reconnect, things could really work. As slowly as possible, which might not be all that slowly, he thought with a grin. He took a sip of his coffee. Even Dwight wouldn’t bother him today.

 

He was halfway through writing Pam an e-mail about crashing at his apartment after work when Michael walked out of his office (the door had been closed) – with Karen, who was clad in a business suit, and looked extremely bright-eyed and, oddly, okay. Jim fought the urge to pull his hoodie over his head and slump down in his chair. Instead, he reached for his phone and did what he so often did when he saw Michael coming – he pretended to be on the phone. Pam watched as he did so, realizing how obvious the whole thing looked – their rumpled clothes, huge cups of coffee, and massive smiles at each other.

 

“Hello everyone,” Michael said, and the members of the office looked up, only semi-interested. Ryan was busily packing up his desk (which, by the looks of his cubicle, wouldn’t take very long). “I want to introduce you all to your new manager – I think you all know her well – Jim especially. Karen Fillipelli, ladies and gentlemen.”

 

Pam shot a look of panic in Jim’s direction, but he was busily chatting it up with an invisible client. A look in Michael’s direction didn’t help either, and Karen’s icy stare made her worry very much about what was to come. What would be her first order of business? No office relationships?

 

“Karen will be working very closely with me to …”

 

Michael’s voice faded off into the distance, and Pam decided the best thing to do at the moment would be to follow Jim’s lead. Picking up the phone, she tried to keep the shaking out of her voice.

 

“Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam … ”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“The Office” Fan Fiction

Jump the Hedges First – Chapter 2

[Author’s Note: I thought the following songs would make a great soundtrack to this chapter. It’ll enhance the reading experience.]

 

Plain White T’s – Hate (I Really Don’t Like You) [all scenes with Karen]

Modest Mouse – Talkin’ Shit About a Pretty Sunset [Jim misses Pam in Ohio]

The Arcade Fire – Lies [Karen betrays Pam]

Red House Painters – Songs for a Blue Guitar [Jim & Pam together]

 

 

 

On Friday morning, Dwight was hard at work creating a miniature replica of his cubicle for Bobblehead Dwight. Deep in concentration, his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth. From across the room, Angela watches him from behind some accounting paperwork. He was in the middle of gluing toothpicks into a mini chair when Michael and Karen exited Michael’s office.

 

“So,” says Michael, now looking a bit uncomfortable, “Meet your new manager. I think you all know her well. Especially Jim. Karen Fillipelli!”

 

Dwight’s head snapped up, eyes glistening with surprise. A second later, he was on his feet, palms plastered to his desk.

 

“Michael, you’re just going to sit idly by and let this charlatan take control of us all?”

 

Michael looked as if he’d just eaten something rotten. “As I discussed, Dwight, corporate felt that Karen wouldn’t make the same mistakes that Jan and I have … letting our personal lives interfere with our jobs.”

 

The camera zooms in on Jim, who’s still pretending to be on the phone. He raises an eyebrow, looking extremely uncomfortable. “Yes … thirty orders of the 56 pound recycled paper … I’ve got you down for that. Oh, and what else?”

 

“She’s going to meet with each of you individually to discuss your progress,” adds Michael. Karen, who has her arms folded across the chest of her gray suit jacket, turns her head and glares at Michael. “Oh, and she has some new initiatives for the whole office that she’d like to discuss with you.”

 

“Actually, Michael, I’d prefer to meet with everyone one-on-one in my office.”

 

Michael looks at her, mouthing What office?

Karen motions towards his office. “We discussed this, Michael. You’re going to be sitting out here now, and I’m going to work in your office.”

Michael pauses for a moment, then utters an awkward laugh. “I, uh, thought you were joking about that.”

 

Andy raises his hand, and Karen acknowledges him impatiently. “Can Michael sit over here with me?”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Well, I—“

 

“I think that would be a really good idea,” interrupts Karen. “Michael, why don’t you get started in the spare workstation next to Andy, and I’ll get moved in.” Her icy stare focuses on Pam, who’s also still pretending to be on the phone. “Pam, can you stop by when you have a second?”

 

Pam swallows and hangs up the phone. “Uh, sure, Karen.”

 

She can feel Jim’s eyes on her back as she slowly makes her way across the room and into Michael’s office. Despite all of Michael’s ridiculousness, his dancing, his inappropriateness, his “PAMPAMPAM!” over the past five years, she can’t imagine the office belonging to anyone else.

 

She feels her palms begin to sweat as she hesitates outside the door. She peeks her head inside and sees Karen sitting behind the desk, the chair swirled around to face a brand new Ikea bookshelf that the new manager is busily stocking with books. For the first time, Pam realizes that Karen isn’t the liaison between the office and Michael – Michael’s been demoted.

 

A small sound escapes Pam’s mouth, and Karen turns to face her. “Come in, Pam.” Pam can’t read her tone. Numbly, she folds herself into a chair and tries her best to look at Jim’s barely-ex-girlfriend on the other side of the desk. Clad in a perfectly tailored suit, shiny new shoes and a fashionable, slicked back ponytail, Karen looks the picture of professional intimidation. I’m a complete slob next to her, thinks Pam, feeling very small in her pink cardigan and striped button-down.

 

Karen’s staring her down. Pam thinks back to her years at McKinley High, back before Roy, when the rich girls used to do that to her as she entered the cafeteria. They wouldn’t say anything; they just enjoyed watching her squirm as she looked for a place to sit. Her hands would start to shake, sometimes so badly that the jello on her lunch tray would wobble like something out of Jurassic Park. She’d clench onto that tray as if her life depended on it, promising herself that she’d never drop it; she’d never let it fall.

 

And so she continued to stare right back into Karen’s eyes. For a moment; then she looks down. In her lap, her hands wrestle with each other like clammy white snakes.

 

“You have a lot of books.”

 

Karen blinks. “Yeah, I guess I do. I don’t really read them,” she adds with a soft snort. “I mean, they’re all business books. They look good on the shelf, don’t you think?”

“Sure.”

There’s a long pause. Finally, Pam speaks. “Look, Karen, I’m really sorry –“

 

Karen holds up a manicured hand to stop her. “No need, Pam. Let’s keep this professional, okay?”

 

Pam nods. “Okay.”

 

“So Cassandra – the new intern – is starting tomorrow.”

Pam relaxes; Karen’s going to ask her to train the girl, that’s all. “Oh, okay.”

 

“Now, originally, one of the things we were going to ask her to do was to design a new Dunder Mifflin website.” Karen turns her computer monitor towards Pam, and a white screen with “Dunder Mifflin Paper Co.” in black appears. “This is the current website.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“It’s awful, right?” Karen smiles. “So corporate made it an initiative for us to design a new, more visually appealing site.” She pauses, folds her hands on the desk. “Pam, I don’t think Michael was really utilizing your talents. Clearly you have an interest in art. I was thinking maybe, if you didn’t feel like you already had too much on your plate, if you would mind working on it.”

 

Pam is speechless. I can’t believe this, she thinks. By all rights, she should hate me! She does hate me! Yet for some reason she’s giving me this big project… unbelievable.

“Um… me? Really? I mean, I could draw something … but I don’t know much about websites,” she says.

 

“That’s okay. If you have questions about the program, you can ask Cassandra. I’m sure she’ll be happy to help you. I mean, we can’t pay you extra for the project, but it would still be good experience. So, what do you think?”

 

“I think… I think I could definitely do that.”

 

“Great.” Pam is halfway out of the room before Karen smiles, but the smile doesn’t touch her eyes.

 

Pam bounds out of the office and back to her seat. What she really wants to do is throw her arms around Jim and tell him all about the new project, but she quickly realizes that she can’t do that. She watches nervously as Karen comes out of her office and talks to Jim in a low voice. He nods. She strains her ears, but can’t hear their conversation. After a moment, Karen returns to her office, leaving the door open.

 

The camera follows Karen inside the office, where she reaches across her desk and picks up Michael’s “World’s Best Boss” coffee mug. She looks at it for a moment, then drops it into the trash can.

Pam casts her eyes down, wondering what was going on. Did she want him back? What if he wanted her back, too?

 

“Pam.” She looks up, and it’s Jim standing on the other side of her desk, nervously zipping and unzipping his hoodie.

 

Before she responds, she glances around the room to check that Karen wasn’t watching them. Looks safe. “Hi, Jim.”

 

“I, uh, can’t hang out after work today,” he says, reaching into the candy dish on her desk.

 

“Oh. Why?”

 

Jim sighs, suddenly looking upset. “Karen’s, well, she’s sending me on a sales call in Philadelphia.”

 

“On a weekend?” she whispers, raising an eyebrow. “And isn’t Philadelphia Dwight’s territory?”

 

Jim shrugs, a shrug which says: She’s not exactly my greatest fan right now.

 

“Is she doing this on purpose?” Pam asks, whispering even more quietly now.

 

“Probably,” Jim says with a sigh. “I was really looking forward to hanging out with you this weekend.”

 

Unable to stop herself, Pam smiles and blushes at the same time. “Well … when do you get back?”

 

“Probably Sunday night, I guess.”

 

Pam’s smile hasn’t faded. “Well, don’t make any plans for Sunday night. Why don’t you come to my apartment when you get back. I’ll make dinner.”

 

Jim grins in his bashful way. “That sounds really great, Pam.” He leans a bit closer, and Pam can smell his shampoo. “I really want to kiss you right now, but that would probably be super-inappropriate, right?”

 

At that moment, Dwight starts howling in pain. “Okay, I should go,” Jim says, lifting his messenger bag over his head and raising a hand in goodbye to Pam.

 

“Bye Jim … good luck.” Pam’strying to make her voice sound as normal as possible, trying to keep all her feelings from showing. She’s good at that.

 

She looks over to see what’s happened with Dwight and has to stifle a laugh. Apparently when Michael made his announcement and Dwight jumped up, he knocked over the container of glue he was using on his toothpick chair, and now his hands were glued to his desk.

 

Michael is clearly done setting up his workspace and pokes his head into Karen’s office. “Hey, Karen, have you seen my coffee mug? I need that.”

 

“No, I haven’t – sorry, Michael,” Karen says without looking up from her BlackBerry.

 

Shoulders slumped, Michael returns to his new seat and starts playing solitaire – the first game, he assumes, of many.

 

* * *

 

Jim gets a phone call on Sunday afternoon from Karen that she needs him to make a few more sales visits. He balks, but doesn’t want to start in on anything personal, so he agrees to continue onto Cincinnati and Canton, Ohio, with the promise that he’ll be back on Thursday. He called Pam to raincheck their dinner date.

 

You’re going to be traveling a lot more, Karen had said.

 

As Assistant Regional Manager, it’s your responsibility to support all the company’s clients. And when you got the job in Stamford, you’d said you wanted to travel. Didn’t want to stay in the same place for too long.

 

He hates Philadelphia. The streets are like sewers and people are unfriendly and he can constantly hear police sirens screaming from nearby Camden. The motel is near the Philly airport, and as he sits at the cheap wooden table on Tuesday night, swiping away the thin gauze of curtain, he watches the planes land … take off. Land … take off, against a rapidly darkening pink sky.

 

There’s a half-empty glass of beer in his left hand, and as he puts it back down on the table, he stares into it, realizing the irony in the half-drunk glass. It’s how his life is at the moment. Life is half-full, because Pam was now in it in a way he never could have dreamed of. And half-empty because Karen now controlled his career, and possibly worse, controlled how frequently he’d be away from Scranton, away from Pam.

 

He glances at his cell phone, just out of reach across the table. He thinks about calling Karen and just quitting on the spot. Sure, he’d have to find another job pretty quickly if he intended to pay rent, and it might be harder to get a job with a gap in employment, but did he really even care about his career?

 

He picks up the phone and dials. Rings once. Twice.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey Pam.” He feels very sad, very distant. Now he knows what she meant, all that time ago, when she’d said that they felt very far apart. “How are you?”

 

“I’m okay,” she says. “Today was a pretty good day. I sketched out this whole … idea for the new website. Cassandra’s teaching me how to actually put it together. You use this program called Dreamweaver. I now know how to update a website.”

 

“That’s good if you ever decide to work on your homemade porn website. Seriously, that’s awesome, though. You sound really excited about it.” His voice sounds hollow, though he isn’t sure why.

 

“Thanks, I am. I like it. I have a lot to learn, though.”

 

You and me both, Jim thinks. Suddenly he feels incredibly angry at himself. What has he been doing the past five years, just floating along at the same company, happy with practical joke playing and Pam’s friendship and nothing more than a steady income? When he’d joined Dunder Mifflin, fresh out of Scranton U, he’d had no clue what he wanted to do with his life. But he’d thought at the time that while he worked and earned some money, he’d figure it all out. Fast-forward four years later and he still hadn’t the slightest clue.

 

“Jim? Are you there?”

 

He laughs nervously. “Sorry, Pam. Still here.”

 

“I miss you,” she says. “It’s not the same in the office without you.”

 

“I miss you, too.” He pauses. “So has Karen been nice to you? She hasn’t said anything nasty to you, right?”

 

“No, she hasn’t. Which is kinda weird, considering. Maybe she’s just … okay with everything.” She doesn’t say anything for a minute, and he knows she’s deciding whether or not to ask anything about that fateful day in New York. Whether or not Jim had told Karen exactly why he needed to race back to Scranton at 80 miles an hour.

 

But she decides against bringing it up, because Jim’s been very quiet about what happened that day. She knows about him seeing the yogurt lid metal, and about how he nearly crashed trying to avoid hitting a woodchuck in New Jersey, but not much else.

 

There’s some static, now. Pam’s saying something, but Jim can’t hear her.

 

“Pam? You there? You’re breaking up. Don’t know if you can hear me, but I’ll be back in a few days, okay? And I’m coming straight to you.” Nothing but silence; he’s lost her. With a burst of frustration, Jim throws his cell phone across the room, where it hits the peeling yellow wallpaper and rolls behind the bed.

 

* * *

 

On Wednesday, Michael dumps a massive pile of papers on Pam’s desk and asks that she make three copies of everything. Briefly, she debates whether or not to ask Cassandra to do it, then remembers how much she hated when people did that to her at some of her other jobs, so she does it herself.

 

She works on the project for most of the morning, and doesn’t have time to do anything with the website. She eats lunch with Cassandra in the break room, smooshed tuna sandwiches washed down with orange Slice. Cassandra reminds her of a blonde Molly Ringwald; she’s got an asymmetrical haircut, funky, dangly earrings, a long summer dress and tan cowgirl boots.

 

“I really admire your style,” Pam says, feeling awfully plain in her gray pants and button-down. “I always wanted to dress like that.”

 

“You can!” Cassandra replies, raising a pierced eyebrow. “I can help you, if you want. We could totally go shopping during lunch tomorrow. There’s a great secondhand store on Cumberland Pike, everything’s really cheap.”

 

Pam smiles. “Oh, I don’t know if I could carry that off. But I’ll think about it. Thanks.” Wax paper crinkles as she unwraps the other half of her sandwich.

 

Suddenly looking secretive, Cassandra leans forward. “So like, what’s up with that Creed guy? He said he used to be in a band or something.”

 

Pam nearly chokes. “Um, yeah, I think so. Why?”

 

Cassandra shrugs, blushing a bit. “I dunno… he’s old and everything, but he’s kinda hot.”

 

Pam glances at her watch and quickly throws the rest of her lunch in the trash. “I’ve gotta go. Karen wanted to see me at two.”

 

* * *

“Hi, Pam. Thanks for stopping by. I was just wondering how the website project was coming.”

 

“Well, it’s coming along … I didn’t have much time to work on it today – I had a project for Michael – but that should be done soon.”

 

Karen nods. “Do you feel like you might not have enough time to finish the site before end of day tomorrow?”

 

Pam raises an eyebrow. “Oh, by tomorrow? I don’t think I could have it done by then, Karen, I’m sorry. End of the month reports are due, and I have to make sure Michael does that, and – I didn’t realize you needed it done so soon.”

 

“It’s okay, Pam. I was asking you to do something extra – we have people we can pay to design our site. And you’re here primarily for administrative support, so don’t worry about it. I’ll have our offsite web manager, Beverly, finish it up and launch it tomorrow.”

 

“Why tomorrow?” Pam asks, feeling sorry about losing the project. “I mean, I could definitely finish it if I had another week…”

 

“Well,” Karen says, typing away on her BlackBerry, “Ryan and a few other bigwigs from corporate are coming down tomorrow to make sure everything is in place with my new position, and they also want to see the new website. They want it launched by tomorrow. Very important.”

 

“Gotcha,” Pam says, nodding. “Okay.”

 

“Thanks for putting so much time into the project, Pam. I really appreciate it.”

 

* * *

Wednesday, Ryan and his cohorts come into the office like they own the place, and Pam doesn’t even recognize the former intern. Sporting a spotless black Armani suit, he looks as though he’d been preparing for the corporate role for his entire life. He doesn’t say hi to anyone, just walks right through, giving Dwight a dirty look, and disappears into the conference room with Karen for most of the morning.

 

Before Karen heads in, she asks Pam to make them coffee. Pam ignores the impulse to add salt instead of sugar. Be the bigger person.

 

Michael comes by her desk around 11:30, wearing a wrinkled suit (the pants are about two inches too short) and looking disconsolate.

 

“Michael,” Pam whispers, “you’ve got to get your job back.”

 

He sighs. “I don’t know if I can. Jan’s wearing me out with so much sex every night, I’m just too exhausted.”

 

Pam recoils, wrinkling her nose.

 

“But Pam, check this out. Now that I’m not a manager anymore, I can put people’s staplers in jello. And I don’t have to wear suits anymore.”

 

“Michael, you are wearing a suit.”

“Well I know that Pam, but I don’t have to. And guess what – I did a Jim Halpert.”

 

“What?”

 

“I played an awesome practical joke on Toby.”

Pam can’t help but crack a smile at the mention of Jim’s name. “What’d you do?”

 

“I left him a voicemail pretending to be his ex-wife wanting to get back together.”

 

Pam doesn’t even have time to respond, because her line’s ringing – from inside the office.

 

“Dunder-Mifflin, this is-“

 

“Hi Pam. It’s Ryan. We were discussing the new website, and … maybe Karen should talk to you.”

 

Pam gulps, suddenly worried. All these guys from corporate, what did they want with her?

 

“Hi Pam. Could you send us the link to the new website? I wanted to show everyone all the progress you’ve made.”

 

“Well, I… there’s still a lot of work to be done,” Pam says uneasily.

 

“I thought the site was ready to be launched,” Karen says, her voice instantly turning cold. “I thought you’d taken care of this, Pam.”

 

Pam is utterly speechless; she’d said no such thing. “I…. I’m sorry. I can send you the link, but I thought—“

 

Click. They’d hung up. Shaken, Pam places the phone back in the receiver and stares at it for a long moment. Karen had told her that the site was no longer her responsibility, and now she was making it look like – ah, it all makes sense now, Pam realizes. Karen had never been looking out for her best interests, to indulge her interest in art. She wanted to ruin her.

 

* * *

 

You absolutely can’t quit, Jim’s dad had said. You’ll never get another job. And besides, all this traveling is going to look excellent. Even if you don’t stay with the company, any sales position is going to require extensive travel. Maybe you’ll even end up working for one of the clients you’re visiting.

Dad, he’d wanted to say, I don’t think I’m cut out for sales. I don’t even know if I’m cut out for the whole “corporate life.”

 

But he wouldn’t listen to that. Any son of the great salesman Bob Halpert was going to follow in his footsteps, if he didn’t want to be a disappointment.

 

The last sales meeting was held at the Embassy Suites in Canton over newspapers filled with unimportant local news, oily croissants and equally oily coffee. When it ended around 10, Jim hopped back in the car, eager to get home. He missed the peace and quiet of home, of not having to be “on” all the time. He missed his bed, and he missed Pam in it – how her hair curled ever so slightly as it met the curve of her neck, her slightly bony ankles clanking against his.

 

That was it. Despite what his dad said, he was going to march right in to Ms. Fillipelli’s office and give his two weeks. It would be fine. Pam could stay there, under the radar, until she found a better job, maybe something in art. They could move in together. Okay, so maybe it was fast, but if the decision was between moving the relationship too fast or ending up homeless, well …

 

Trees, houses, half-deserted strip malls blurred as Jim drives, faster and faster, back towards Scranton. Balancing a blue raspberry slushee in one hand and his cell phone in the other, he texts “see you soon” to Pam. He has a long six hours ahead of him.

 

* * *

He’s never seen her with her hair down before – never this way, anyway. She’s sitting out on the front steps of her apartment building, wearing an old concert t-shirt and terry cloth shorts. Her cheeks and forehead are free of makeup, and her face shines in the light cast from the streetlamp on the corner. Occasionally, she swats a mosquito.

 

She’s got a sketchbook resting across her knees, and as Jim pulls into the parking lot she stops drawing and stands up. The book slides onto the ground, and she nearly trips over it as she walks over to his car. She’s almost there before the engine’s even off.

 

He rolls the window down with a patented Jim Halpert smile and she leans down to kiss him, but she can’t maneuver herself through the window, and neither of them can reach the other.

 

“Can I just …unbuckle my seatbelt first?” Jim says, and they both laugh. She waits as he gets one of his suitcases out of the trunk, and he watches as she tries to take the other, heavier one. “Here, I’ve got that one, thanks. I hope you don’t mind if I do my laundry here.” She raises an eyebrow. “Just kidding. We’re not going to be at that stage in a long time. You won’t be folding my underwear for at least two weeks.”

 

She smiles. “Hah.”

 

They walk inside, to the smell of garlic. “I made spaghetti,” she says. “Hope that’s okay.”

 

Jim drops his messenger bag by the door and pulls her close to him. “Pam, I’ve been eating motel food for the past week. Anything is fine, and anything you made is even better.”

 

She has to stand on her tiptoes and pull herself up with his suit lapels to kiss him. Amazingly, his hair’s grown in the past week, and she somehow finds her hands tangled in it. Suddenly she feels a tension in the room – not an unpleasant one, but one that scares her, just the same. Roy is the only guy she’s ever been with, and suddenly it becomes apparent that being with Jim is going to be different – and that makes her nervous.

 

“You’re still wearing your suit,” Pam manages, out of breath, her heart pounding.

 

“I raced home,” he says, looking at her. “I didn’t have time to change.”

 

She nods. “Maybe you should change for dinner.”

 

He smiles. “Maybe you should help me. If you want to,” he says, growing serious. “No peer pressure, Pam, honest. If it’s too fast –”

 

She doesn’t say a word, just leads him by the hand into her bedroom. It most certainly has not been too fast.

 

By the time they return to the kitchen, the spaghetti sauce is cold. Jim microwaves it (“microSAVES it,” he says), insisting that Pam relax while he cooks, and the two of them eat dinner on the couch in sweats, with Pam’s feet in Jim’s lap, and they watch some silly British comedy. Neither of them talk, or pay much attention to the TV; they’re both replaying the sex back in their heads. Jim thinks it had been alright, but they were both unbearably nervous; both of them still had their tops on, and Pam had flicked the lights off and pulled the covers so tightly around her that he didn't get to see her. 

 

Jim makes a mental note that the next time they go out, they should actually go out. Like, to a nice restaurant, or maybe dinner on one of those lake cruises Michael took them on a few years ago.

It's hot in the room, and the slow, lazy turns of the overhead fan just aren't doing it. An idea strikes Jim, and he gets up, goes to the kitchen, and returns, a devilish look on his face. 

"What are you doing?" Pam asks, sitting up halfway. She feels a embarrassed and stupid. While the sex hadn't felt bad, she'd felt very bashful, and she was sure he knew it.  

"I'm cooling you off," he says, sitting down on the edge of the couch. She realizes he has a handful of ice cubes, and she smiles dubiously.

"You're kidding, right?"

Jim doesn't respond, just leans over her and touches the ice to her shoulder blade. She shivers and laughs nervously.

"Too cold?"

She shakes her head, and he runs the ice down inside the crook of her arm, then down her leg and behind her knee. Her eyes flash in the dim lamplight, but he thinks she likes it, the warm touch of his hand behind the cold ice.

The ice finally dissolves on the back of her neck, and then it's just his hand there.

"Thanks," she says with a smile, and he just sits on the edge of the couch, watching her watching the TV.  

 

“I meant to ask you how your day was. Besides, you know, the amazing evening you had between when I got here and when we ate dinner.”

 

Pam smiles. “It was definitely the highlight of my day.”

 

Jim inwardly beams. “Oh yeah?” He lifts their plates from the coffee table and walks over to put them in the sink. “So is it okay if I stay here tonight? And I’ll just drive us to work in the morning?”

 

Pam presses her lips together. “Um… I won’t need a ride in the morning. I was fired.”

* * *

Chapter 3 – Modern Romance

[Author’s Note: Check out this song by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.]

 

“What?”

 

There’s a long moment of silence between them, and the only sound is that of the fan turning overhead. Jim thinks he had to have misheard her. Holding a glass of water in his hand, he takes a step closer to where she sat on the couch, bare white legs folded beneath her.

 

“I thought you just said you were fired.” Involuntarily, his voice jumps higher at the end of the sentence, turning it into a question.

 

Amazingly, Pam smiled. “It’s okay. Seriously.”

 

It definitely isn’t okay. My ex-girlfriend became our boss, and suddenly, after five years of working, you’re fired? He tries to keep the anger from his voice as he asks her what happened.

 

Pam told him the story. “Apparently I didn’t realize how important the website project was.” She looked down. “I guess I wouldn’t have taken it on if I’d known.”

 

Calmly, Jim crossed the room, sat down beside her and put an arm around her. “I’m really sorry, Pam. This is my fault.”

 

She looked surprised. “No, it’s really not, Jim. I messed up. But it’s okay. You know? Maybe this is the best possible thing that could’ve happened to us.”

 

“But how can she just … fire you?” He can’t even say her name. He’s done well at keeping calm, but that’s only for Pam’s sake. Generally, he has a very even-tempered disposition – but not when you cross someone he cares about. “How could Michael let this happen?”

 

Pam shrugs. “Michael doesn’t really have any say in things anymore. I guess I was surprised that Ryan allowed it, but …”

 

“Yeah, me too.” He’d always thought Ryan was a cool guy – albeit one who complained about the state of his life pretty often without doing anything to change it. For the first few years, Ryan had whined constantly to Jim about hating Dunder Mifflin, hating Michael, hating Kelly – but had he made a change, broken up with his chatty girlfriend? That was the difference between them – Jim acted on things.

 

“Don’t worry, Pam. I’ll talk to Toby tomorrow. She can’t do this.” He squeezes her shoulder. “We’ll fix this.”

 

“Hmmm,” Pam said. “I guess I should probably start looking for a new job. Maybe this is an opportunity for me to figure out what I really want to do. Maybe today is the first day of the rest of my life,” she said, cracking a smile.

He tries to smile back, but the thought of Karen sitting smug on her couch with a carton of ice cream – perhaps throwing darts at a picture of him – was haunting him.

 

Still, he can’t imagine passing those long afternoons at work without her smiling face behind the front desk. And Karen couldn’t simply take out her rage at both of them by getting Pam fired. It was stupid of him to think that she was okay with the way things had ended in New York. And if his ex was going to get her revenge by trying to make him unhappy, that was one thing. He could handle that. But making Pam unhappy, even in the smallest way – that was a whole other story.

 

Later, in bed, with Pam cuddled beside him, their feet battling for space, he leans over into her hair. “I don’t want to go without you tomorrow,” he says, suddenly sounding like a little kid. “This isn’t fair.”

 

“It’s okay,” she replies, holding onto his arm, which is draped across her front. But she’s still awake long after he isn’t, watching the fan above her, turning and turning.

 

* * *

Jim collects Pam’s things in the morning. There aren’t many – a potted fern, a half-used sketchbook, a small framed photo of her mom – so it doesn’t take him long. He thinks for a minute that the desk actually smells like Pam – and again, feelings of anger and frustration sweep over him.

 

The office seems quiet, lonely without her. Everyone seems somber. Even Kelly keeps to herself, plugging in her iPod while inputting numbers into the computer in the back. Jim folds himself into his seat and flips on his computer. When his Outlook opens, he stares at his e-mails, clicks on some of them, goes through the motions of doing work. But his heart isn’t in it. He wonders what Pam’s doing – if she’s still sleeping, if she’s crunching on a bowl of cereal and watching bad TV.

 

At 9:15, Karen arrives, clad in a new business suit beneath a new, expensive-looking raincoat. Jim keeps his eyes down as she walks by. He thinks he detects a whiff of cigarette smoke, which doesn’t surprise him. She’d smoked when they first started dating, but he’d convinced her to stop. Now it appeared she was back on the wagon again.

 

At 9:25, she calls him into her office. I’m actually sort of busy stays trapped in his throat as he looks up and sees her standing in the doorway. Clearly she wasn’t taking no for an answer. Jim glances over at Michael for help, but Michael’s been busy since quarter to nine trying to record the perfect voicemail greeting. Michael meets his eyes, even looks a bit sympathetic, Jim thinks.

 

She closes the door behind him, and he half-expects her to drop the phony corporate act and lay right into him.

 

“Hi Jim. How are you doing?”

“I’m good,” he says, fairly convincingly. He’s good at that. “What’s up, Karen?”

 

“Good. I’m aware that you may not be pleased with Pam’s termination, Jim, but please don’t let those feelings affect your job. I spoke with Ryan yesterday and corporate is quite pleased with your progress, with your career path. They want you on the road more.”

 

“What if I don’t want that?” he challenges her, raising an eyebrow.

 

Karen calmly folds her hands on her desk, and he can imagine she would have acted the same way while firing Pam. “Jim, don’t be stupid. Another six months, a year of traveling, and you’ll be well-groomed for a promotion. You did want to move out of your apartment into a nicer place, I remember.”

 

“Yes,” he says tonelessly.

 

“So I’m wondering if you would be able to visit the Weyerhausers this week,” Karen says, referring to a large paper purchaser in New York.

 

“This week? Wow, I don’t know … I have a lot going on this week, a lot of calls to make.” What he really means is Pam needs me.

 

“Jim,” Karen says, leaning forward, “She’s unemployed now. Do you really want to join her? So the two of you can enjoy vending machine dinners in a trailer park?”

 

His mouth drops open. “Let’s try to leave personal issues out of this, Karen.”

 

“I am leaving personal issues of this,” she replies. “I’m your boss, so I’m being professional. If I were being personal, I’d be telling you that you made a huge fucking mistake. I’d be telling you that that whiny, wimpy little Debbie Downer is a waste of your time. And I’d be telling you that I wish I didn’t have to see your face in this office every day.” Her voice broke, and he wondered if he detected a hint of emotion in her voice, a shine of tears. “You broke my heart, Jim.”

 

Part of him felt horrible, but then he remembered her cold, barely restrained reaction in New York.. If it’s so hard for her to see his face, then he’s going to make every effort not to quit – at least until he can find another job.

 

He stands, then stops at the door. “Well, while we're being personal, let me say that you can hate me all you want, but getting Pam fired was completely unnecessary. I can't understand why anyone would want to do something like that unless they're totally bitter and jealous." He shrugs. "You know anybody like that, Karen?"

 

He goes back in an hour later, after some thought, and tells her he’ll go to New York. It’ll be his last trip, he vows – after all, it’ll be a great opportunity to visit his dad.

 

They have a lot to talk about.

 

* * *

 

Pam’s alarm goes off at its usual time, 6:45. She read somewhere that it was good to keep a normal schedule while unemployed. She gets out of bed, takes a short walk around the block, showers, pins her hair back, applies minimal make up. She tries smiling at herself in the mirror. It doesn’t really work.

 

She makes breakfast. Usually she just grabs cereal and juice, but today she has all the time in the world, so she makes pancakes and coffee, and eats them at the table by the window while she pages through the employment pages. There’s nothing that looks even remotely interesting.

 

Suddenly hit with a burst of inspiration, she gets in the car and drives twenty miles to the nearest art supply store. She buys a nice faux-leather art briefcase. She puts her five best sketches inside when she gets home. It looks good; professional.

 

She calls her mom to see if she wants to meet for lunch, and they do, at the little diner around the corner – the one where she finally broke up with Roy for good. As she drives, she has to pass Dunder-Mifflin on her left, and it’s a strange feeling. There’s a pang as she sees Jim’s old car in the parking lot. She wonders what he’s up to, if he’s gotten in to see Toby yet. A part of her almost misses Michael, amazingly.

 

She arrives before her mom and sits in the booth, perusing the grease-glazed menu. When the chunky waitress comes by to see if she wants anything, she orders an iced tea.

 

Her mom arrives about ten minutes later: Mia Beesley, a tall woman with wispy blonde hair, wearing a snappy red sweater over a white button-down paired with dark jeans, a woman who’s never on time.

 

“Hi, honey,” she says, putting her purse on the leather seat. “Sorry I’m late.”

 

“That’s okay, mom.”

 

They sit looking at each other for a moment before Mia speaks. “I really don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry this happened, dear. It seemed like things were looking up.”

 

“With Jim, you mean.”

 

“Yes. I mean I always knew you would figure things out. But you sounded so happy on the phone last week. And then this …” she trails off. “Do you need money?”

 

“Mom.” Pam is too proud to ask for help. “I should be okay. I’m getting unemployment, and I’ll be getting it for awhile.” She pauses. “And I was happy. I mean, I am. About Jim. I’m trying to look on the bright side of it all.” She’s getting choked up. Her eyes fill with tears, but she tries to stay calm. She doesn’t want to get a headache. “I don’t want Jim to get upset. He feels like it’s his fault, because of Karen. I’m afraid of what things will be like if we can’t see each other every day.”

 

“Well, if you really are meant to be together, Pam, you’ll work through this.”

 

Pam sniffles, looks out the window. Looking at her mom just makes her feel worse. “I’m more worried about the fact that I don’t have a job and I don’t know what I want to do with my life. I know everything else will be okay.”

 

Just then the waitress returns to take their orders. She looks first to Pam. “Do you know what you want, sweetie?”

 

Pam opens her mouth to speak and bursts into tears.

 

“We’ll both have the chicken salad,” says Mia.

 

* * *

 

Every time Jim tries to talk to Toby, he’s unavailable. He’s on the phone, he’s not in his office, the door’s shut – he’s not reachable.

 

At 3:30, he slips outside to call Pam.

 

“Hello?” She sounds tired.

 

“Hey, Pam. How are you doing?”

 

She sighs. “Okay. Just got back from a long lunch with my mom.”

 

“Ah. How was it?”

 

“Oh, it was okay,” she says, laughing a little. “Well, the food was better than I was, let’s just put it that way. How’s your day going?”

 

“Well, I convinced Dwight that you left to work on the Game Show Network. Kelly and Phyllis asked about you, how you were doing.”

 

“Really? That’s nice.”

 

“I tried to get in to see Toby, but he seems pretty busy.”

 

“Probably has a lot of paperwork to do.”

 

“Yup, I bet.” He pauses, suddenly feeling nervous. “I, uh, have to go on another trip.”

“Oh?” She sounds sad.

 

“Yup, this one’s in New York State, way upstate. It’s a pretty big client.” He clears his throat. “My, uh, my parents live up there, so I was thinking of visiting them while I’m there.”

 

“Oh, that’s cool. At least you’ll be able to have some fun while you’re there.”

 

Jim laughs. “Calling it fun might be an overstatement. But listen, I was wondering if maybe you’d want to come with me.” Jumping ahead, he continues: “I’m not trying to do the whole ‘meet my parents’ thing, but I just don’t like that I have to keep traveling when … when things are just getting started.”

 

“I know,” she says quietly. “I agree.”

 

“I mean, I really want to quit, Pam. And I’m going to. But I have to explain to my dad that I don’t think I want to be a salesman. He is, and pretty much since I can remember that’s what he’s wanted me to be, too, and …” He realizes he’s been talking faster and faster since the moment he invited her along, and so he takes a deep breath.

 

“Sure, Jim, I’d love to go.”

 

“Really?”

 

He can almost hear the smile in her voice. “Yeah, really. It’d be fun. Maybe we could even stop in New York City on the way up, since I’ve never been there.”

 

“We could definitely do that. I’ll call my mom later and let her know you’re coming.”

 

“Thanks for inviting me. Maybe you could stop by after you get off work?”

 

He grins. It’s so easy to make her happy. “I’ll be doing that. Oh, and Pam?”

 

“Yup?”

 

“Don’t worry about dinner – I’m taking you out tonight.”

 

 

* * *

 

Pam starts picking out what to wear hours ahead of time. This is their first official “out in public” date, and she wants to make a special effort. Picking through her closet, she lays out several different outfits on her bed and finally chooses something totally uncharacteristic – a white summer sundress with a salmon cardigan over it. She hopes it isn’t too much.

 

The idea of meeting Jim’s parents has occurred to her before, more times than she’d admit. She often dreamed of walking through Jim’s childhood house, of seeing where young Jim slept, played outside, grew up. She knows in a way it’s a little fast, but at the same time, seemed right. Everything with Jim did.

 

Her phone rang again, and she leapt for it, thinking it was Jim giving her a hint of where they’d be eating tonight.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Pam? It’s Roy.”

 

She pulls the receiver from her ear as if it’s burned her. She didn’t ever expect to hear from him again.

 

“Pam, I want to talk to you about something.”

 

“Roy, I – I can’t right now. I’m getting ready to go out.”

 

He sighs, and she wonders if he’s figured out who she’s been spending time with. “Can we talk tomorrow, then? It’s important.”

 

She’s silent for a long moment, weighing her options. What could he possibly have to talk to her about? “Okay, Roy, but in a public place. And you should know that … I’m seeing someone who I really, really like a lot. So there’s no chance of us getting back together. Okay?”

 

“I get that. Yeah. Just meet me at the diner tomorrow at 12. Can you do that?”

 

She takes a deep breath, then suddenly sees headlights splash across her bedroom window. It’s Jim. “Okay, Roy. I’ve gotta go. See you tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

Cassandra doesn’t really know what to make of Dunder-Mifflin. As she sits, staring at the clock as it inches ever-closer to five-thirty, she muses over the first week of her internship. The guy who hired her is now not her boss; instead, she reports to the pinched-looking woman with the designer suits who always looks in the morning like she’d cried herself to sleep the previous night. The one person who might have become a friend has been fired for, as far as Cassandra can tell, nothing.

 

The door to Karen’s office has been shut all afternoon, which is good. Cassandra isn’t sure what the company was like when Michael was boss, but since Karen took over nobody makes much small talk at all. Behind her, Michael and Dwight are playing 20 questions – except Dwight is asking himself questions and answering them before Michael has a chance to say anything.

 

“Favorite character on Lost? The black smoke. Favorite comedy? Ordinary People. Favorite flavor soda? Celery.”

 

Cassandra rolls her eyes. Kelly is sitting behind the desk today and has been answering the phones in that annoying cloying voice, and as Cassandra watches, she gathers her stuff and leaves for the night.

 

She notices that the lanky, shagged-haired guy who sits closest to the front desk has a box full of the stuff from Pam’s desk. “Hey,” she says, leaning forward. “Is that Pam’s stuff?”

 

The guy turns around, and from the look on his face when she says Pam’s name Cassandra wonders if this guy is her boyfriend. “Yup, it is,” he replies, nodding.

 

“I can’t believe what happened. Tell her I’m really sorry, okay?”

 

“I will, thanks. You’re Cassandra, right?”

 

“Yes, nice to meet you.”

 

“Jim,” he says, extending his hand, which she shakes.

 

“Has it always been like this here?” she asked, cocking her head towards Karen’s office.

 

Jim snorts uneasy laughter. “Definitely not.”

 

People filter out of the office; Dwight and the snotty blonde from Accounting leave at the same time; Michael gets a call on his cell phone from a woman whose voice is loud enough for Cassandra to hear – the woman is demanding that he come home immediately and make love to her. Where the hell am I? Cassandra wonders, drumming a black fingernail on her desk. Oscar, Meredith and the kinda hot old guy leave around 5:15, and soon the office is empty. This is stupid. I don’t have anything else to do today. I wonder if Miss Fillipelli will let me leave a few minutes early.

 

She knocks on the door. No answer. Hmm. Impatient and wanting a cigarette, Cassandra stops by her desk and grabs cigarettes out of her hoodie, then walks into the hall, takes the elevator to the second floor, and heads out the back door to the smoker’s ledge. She sits out there for a long while, longer than she intended to, trying to decide if she should dump her emo slacker boyfriend when she sees him this weekend.

 

By the time she returns to her desk, it’s late, and half of the office lights are turned off. She gathers her things and is halfway to the door when she hears it. Muffled laughter coming from Karen’s office. The door is ajar.

 

At first, the noise startles Cassandra; then, she’s curious. She takes a careful, quiet step towards the door. Then another. Finally, she’s mere inches away from the gap between the door and the doorjamb. Her heart pounding in her chest, fearing she’s going to be caught, she leans forward to see Karen making out with the ugly guy from HR who’d done her hiring paperwork. Toby, she thought his name was. She couldn’t see Karen’s face, as it was buried beneath Toby’s, but they were up against the back wall of the office, Toby’s hips pressed hard into hers.

 

That’s it, Cassandra thinks, shaking her head as if to clear it. This place is crazy! I quit! Suddenly feeling like she needs a drink, she leaves, wondering if she’s got the stomach to come back in the morning.

Jump the Hedges First – Part Four

Burn (check out this song by Ray LaMontagne!)

 

The attribute that all of the characters in this chapter share is that they’re longing for something – or someone.

 

Nope, still don't own The Office or any of its adorable counterparts.

 

 

They haven’t tried sex again since that awkward, uncomfortable first time, a night filled with “are you okay?” from him, and “ummm, maybe over to the right a little?” from her. Neither of them have been much in the mood for it. Which is ridiculous, because they should be attacking each other like rabbits, Pam thinks. She’s standing across the street from the diner where she told Roy it was over between them, nervously pressing her hands to the thighs of her jeans to erase the nervous sweat. She stands uncertainly under the streetlamp, her brow creased with worry.

 

She can see Roy there, sitting at the front counter, facing away from her. From the way his arms are on the table, his hands are likely to be cupped around a hot coffee, even in the summertime. He used to make fun of her for getting those iced “girly coffee drinks.” Underneath his imitation leather jacket, she imagines his back muscles constricting, tightening with nerves as he waited for her.

 

She wonders, for the billionth time that day, what Roy could possibly have left to say. Even if he begged her to take him back, she knew now that it wasn’t right, hadn’t ever been right between them. He had done his best to love her, but she had lost herself in that love, and she hated that.

Of course, all that was her fault - not his. He'd never made her stay.

 

She wavered for a minute, unsure if she should cross the street and talk to him. She hadn’t told Jim where she was going – he was at work, of course. She feels guilty, but she doesn’t think there’s anything to tell, really. Yet, at least.

 

Pulling her purse protectively to her side, Pam looks both ways, as her mom had taught her as a kid, and hopes for the best. The bell of the diner rings as she walks inside, and he turns around.

 

She almost has a heart attack. He looks … good. He’s clean-shaven and wearing a nice collared shirt under his light jacket. Maybe he’s lost a couple of pounds. She was imagining him stubbly, nursing a hangover, still mourning their breakup. Maybe I was wrong, she thinks, forcing a nervous smile.

 

“Pam,” he says warmly, patting the stool next to his. “How are you. Have a seat. Thanks for coming.”

 

She hesitates. It’s lunch time, and all she needs is for Jim – or, worse, someone from DM who might tell Jim what they saw – to catch them. That would be a disaster.

 

“Um, do you think we could get a booth?” she asks, pointing to the one in the corner, away from the windows.

 

“Sure,” he says, following her to the table. They sit. “Do you want to order something?”

 

“No,” she says, looking down. “I’m actually meeting a couple of the girls from the off – I mean, Dunder Mifflin – at Chili’s – in a half-hour.” It was true. Kelly had called her last night, asking if she wanted to meet her and Angela for lunch. Pam, surprised and touched, had agreed.

 

“Okay.” Disappointment flickers across Roy’s face, but he does a good job of hiding it. Pam had grown accustomed to doing the same thing herself. He looks at her, and there’s a moment of sadness there. He clears his throat, looks down, looks back up with a smile. “So I guess I’ll get right to the point.”

 

“Well … what are you doing now? Are you working?”

 

“I am,” Roy says, his smile widening. I actually just got a new job, in New Jersey.” Pam’s nose wrinkled. “I know, I know. But the whole state isn’t bad.”

 

“Where in Jersey?”

 

“It’s in East Brunswick. It’s a, er, digital media company. I’m going to be managing the warehouse.”

 

Pam’s eyes widen. “Wow, warehouse manager? That’s great, Roy. That’s quite a jump for you.”

 

“Yeah. I was really surprised that I even got the interview … with my dismissal from Dunder and all … not that I didn’t deserve it. You know.”

 

She nods.

 

“Anyway, that kinda has to do with why I asked you to meet me.” He takes a deep breath. “I, uh, still talk to the warehouse guys, and they still kinda hear about what’s going on in your office. So I heard about the management changes, and what happened with you getting let go and everything. And I think it’s retarded.”

 

A blush spreads across Pam’s cheeks as she realizes what that means he knows.

 

“I mean, what kind of company lets someone just fire people because of a, like, personal vendetta. It just doesn’t make sense. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says firmly. “Now me getting fired, that was one thing. But man, I’m sorry, Pam. Jim’s girlfriend is a major bitch.”

 

“Thanks,” she manages. The waitress comes by and asks to take their order, and Pam gives in and requests a sprite, no ice. Roy orders a Monte Cristo.

 

“I mean, it is kinda funny, Michael getting demoted,” he continues, chuckling a little. “Anyway…”

 

“Um, Roy? There’s something I should tell you, before you ask me what you need to ask me,” she says, boldly going forward. Roy looks confused, but she holds her hand up to silence him. “I don’t know why you asked me here, but like I said on the phone, I am seeing someone. I just want to be honest, okay? And there’s definitely a reason why Karen hates me so much … they’re not dating anymore, her and Jim. But we … we kinda are.” She pauses, suddenly out of breath and hoping he’s not going to throw things again.

 

Roy slowly nods. “I figured as much. That’s cool, though, Pam. I guess I was pretty mad at first … but now … I think he’s a good guy. He’ll treat you well.”

 

“Wow, thanks,” she says, surprised.

 

“I mean, I can’t say it doesn’t hurt a little, but he is the better guy. And she still had no reason to fire you.” He stops. “Let me get to the point, so you can get to your ladies’ lunch.” She smiles. “This new company I work for – I just work in the warehouse branch. But it has several other offices, and one of them is in Brooklyn, New York.”

 

“Okay,” Pam says, not following.

 

“That office does all of the creative stuff – marketing, websites, art stuff. And they’re looking for a design assistant. I mean, I know, only an assistant – but you can take classes and stuff at the same time at like, a college. Not sure which one. But … if you wanted that job, I could probably help you get it, Pam.”

 

Her mouth drops open. That’s why he called her? Why he wanted to see her? And he was still willing to do this, even though he knew there was no shot at them getting back together, that she was busy falling for Jim?

 

“I … I don’t know what to say, Roy.” She manages a small smile. “I don’t know, that would be kind of a big move for me.”

 

Roy returns the smile. “What, are you kidding me? You’re Pam Beesley, you’re all about big moves lately. Tell me to take a hike. Get your own place. Now you got the guy you wanted.” He laughs. “Seriously, though, think about it and let me know, okay? You don’t think Jim would be mad about it, if I helped you get it?”

 

For the first time, Pam realizes that the opportunity would mean her moving away from Scranton – and from Jim. But she’s getting ahead of herself. “I don’t think he’d be mad that you helped me,” she says finally. “I think he’d be glad.”

 

She nods, as if agreeing with herself. “Okay, Roy, I should go. But … I just want to say thank you. Either way.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

She gathers her belongings and leaves just as the waitress comes with Roy’s greasy sandwich, looking quizzically after Pam, wondering why she’s leaving this awfully cute guy to eat his lunch all alone.

 

* * *

 

They don’t ask anything about her love life, and for that she’s grateful beyond words. She’s also curious as to whether or not Jim’s demeanor in the office has changed - obviously the girls can’t detect anything in his crooked smile or the way he stares at her old desk, or they would be giving her the third degree right now. Her mind is still trying to cope with Roy’s offer about the job in New York, but as she walks through the door and smiles at the hostess, she knows her focus has to shift to surviving this lunch.

 

Kelly and Angela are already at Chili’s when she gets there, sitting on the same side of the table. Angela is donned in her usual slate-gray twin set, her hair tightly pulled back in a barrette, her white face stark next to Kelly’s darker skin and bright red lipstick. Some cheesy 80s song plays in the background, as was usually the case at the Scranton Chili’s.

 

“Pam!” Kelly squeals, sliding out of her seat and giving Pam an unexpected hug. “How are you?”

 

“Hey, I’m fine,” she replies, taking her seat. “Hey, Angela.”

 

“Hi, Pam.” Angela allows a tiny smile to spread across her mouth.

 

A long, excruciating moment of silence passes.

 

“So … how’s the office?” Pam asks finally, dropping her eyes to scan the menu.

 

“Ohmigod, Pam, we are SO devastated by what happened. Karen is SO mean, I just can’t believe she would sabotage you like that. I mean, everybody knows what happened. I was talking to Phyllis about it today – she wanted to come today but she had a sales call and she told me to tell you that she was sorry she couldn’t make it.”

 

“Oh, that’s okay.”

 

“Anyway, everybody thinks it’s ridiculous. And Pam, Jim is totally trying to stick up for you. He has a meeting with Toby later, maybe you’ll get your job back. Even Michael is upset. He’s really upset, actually.”

 

“Umm… he is?”

 

“Well, he broke up with Jan, so it might be that too. But Jim told me that if Toby doesn’t make something happen, he’s going go up to corporate and march right into David’s office and demand that you get your job back.”

 

“Wow … I had no idea … that’s so nice,” Pam manages, wondering when Kelly has time to breathe. The truth is, she didn’t realize how fired up Jim was, but she thought it was pretty chivalrous, him standing up for her that way.

 

“AND,” Kelly continues, reaching across the table and squeezing Pam’s hand, “He and Karen TOTALLY broke up. So you might actually have a chance now.”

 

Pam smiles, secure that she’s not revealing a single thing in her smile. “Maybe,” she says, and her thoughts can’t help but travel back to the night before for a moment, the way his eyes crinkled at her over the rim of his wineglass as he drank, the way their conversation was so easy, so comfortable, yet the entire night there seemed to be this black raincloud hovering over them. She knew what it was: he felt guilty. He thought it was his fault that she’d lost her job. And when he walked her to her door and kissed her goodnight, his face hovering over hers, he’d started to walk away. She’d held onto his hand, though, and pulled him back. “Do you want to stay?” she’d asked, a playful smile dancing across her face. He’d taken her other hand and pulled her close to him, and she could almost imagine the static electricity bouncing between them, like the green sparks she saw sometimes when she pulled laundry apart in the dark. “Yes,” he’d replied, a huge smile spreading across his face. It was adorable and at the same time a little unsettling, the way he’d needed her to invite him in. Like he still didn’t know how she felt, or like he felt like he didn't deserve the happiness.

 

They’d slept in the same bed together, close, but nothing happened. She’d curled around him, breathing in the scent of shampoo in his hair, wondering why he wasn’t initiating something. He was certainly attentive all night, his kisses felt the same, and he’d put his arms around her, but that was it, and she wasn’t sure why.

 

Pulling herself back to the present, she shrugs the memory off and turns her attention to the girls. “So … what’s new with you, Angela?”

 

* * *

 

“Give Pam her job back.”

 

“Jim, I – I don’t have the authority to do that.” Toby shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying not to make eye contact with the guy who’d babysat his kid.

 

“I think you do,” he says, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back in the chair, a clear sign that he wasn’t going anywhere until he got the response he wanted. “You’re our HR rep, Toby. Karen firing Pam was completely ridiculous. She only did it to get back at me. That’s super-clear. What’s not clear is why you won’t do anything about it.”

Toby doesn’t respond, just looks past Jim’s shoulder at Karen’s closed office door. He still can’t understand why a gorgeous, strong creature like Karen would ever be interested in him. He realizes he's one of the only two people in the office who knows that she wears all that makeup to hide a spray of freckles that fall across the bridge of her nose, freckles she said, once, offhandedly, she'd hated as a kid. Well, actually, he knows why she's interested in him. He’s quite aware he’s being used. But maybe, just maybe, once she gets to know me …

 

Karen’s door opens, and she glides outside, wearing a nicely tailored pantsuit and a gold chain around her neck that, at least to Toby, shimmers beneath the fluorescent lights. Amazingly, she walks right over to his desk. “Jim,” she says, her voice cold. Jim’s shoulder tense slightly as he hears her behind him, but he doesn’t turn around.

 

“Karen.”

 

“Good news. I think we’re going to send Dwight up to New York tomorrow instead of you. He’s requested the trip.”

 

“There’s a Battlestar Galactica convention at the Javits Center, and I for one am not going to miss the event,” Dwight says, walking by at the perfect moment.

 

“Is that why, or is it because you don’t want me anywhere near Corporate?” Jim asks, his voice low. Toby pulls out some paperwork and tries to look disinterested. “You think I might go have a talk with our friend Dave about what you did?”

 

“Dwight requested the trip,” Karen says, and from the way she speaks Toby can tell that her teeth are clenched behind her lips.

 

“Okay, then I need three days off,” he says, thinking he’ll still drive up to talk to David.

 

“You don’t have any vacation days left this year, Jim,” she replies. “You used them all for your Australia trip.” Damn, he thinks, she’s right. “If you want to discuss this further, I’ll be in my office.” She departs – flees, Toby thinks – into her office.

 

“Great,” Jim mutters, rolling his eyes. “So much for visiting my folks.” He hangs his head for a moment, suddenly feeling the guilt wash over him. He excuses himself from Toby’s desk and wanders aimlessly around the office for a few minutes, then somehow finds himself alone on the smokers’ desk, which is deserted. He puts his elbows on the table – just like his mother always told him not to – and stares out into the parking lot below. It’s funny that he’s here, because he’s never smoked a cigarette in his life.

 

Pam finally loves him back. The worst part is, though, that they can’t even enjoy it. She needs her old job back. And he needs her here. But he doesn’t quite feel like he deserves it – or her. Why should he? He used Karen, then discarded her when what he’d been waiting for had arrived. While dating Karen, he’d been cold to Pam, a horrible friend. So now why would he deserve to be the man in her life?

 

Also, Karen was proving to be a formidable opponent. Her very presence in the office was uncomfortable enough, but the fact that she was his boss was very, very bad. And now that he wasn’t going to be able to go to New York, he realizes that he might not actually be able to get Pam her job back.

 

“Hey.” He looks up to see Cassandra – the intern – standing beside him, a lit cigarette held at her hip. “Jim, right?”

 

“Jim Halpert, the one and only,” he says, sounding glum.

 

She raises the cigarette, takes a puff, and smiles at him. “I think I can tell you something that might help you.”

 

He half-smiles. “What makes you think I need help?”

 

“Well, maybe I need help. If you can give me advice on how I can get Creed’s attention, I can tell you how you can get Pam’s job back – and get rid of Karen.”

 

Jim’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open like a cartoon character. “CREED? You like Creed?”

 

“Did you hear what I just said? Pam’s job? No more Karen?”

 

He smiles, for real this time. “Ah … right. I’m sure I can find some way to get you in Creed’s good graces. Let’s deal with that later. So how exactly would I go about doing this?”

 

Cassandra stubs out her cigarette and sits down beside him. Then she smiles.

 

* * *

 

Pam’s on the computer looking up the company Roy told her about when she hears the knock on her door. It’s silly, but she thinks to herself as she walks down the narrow hallway that the knock almost sounds excited. Is that possible? she thinks, a brief smile crossing her face. Her hair’s still wet from the shower and lying limp against the back of her tank top.

 

She can see Jim’s head through the little pane of glass over the front door, but she asks anyway. “Who is it?”

 

“Your friendly neighborhood paper salesman,” he says, and the newfound brightness in his voice is a welcome surprise. She opens the door, and he’s standing there in his workclothes, his tie slightly loosened, his hair growing quickly and already sticking out behind his ears. There’s a shine in his eyes and a goofy smile on his face.

 

She turns her head to the side, looking at him suspiciously. “What?” she asks playfully. “You look … like you’ve got something up your sleeve.”

 

“Hmm,” he says, taking a step into the apartment. As he does, he puts his hands on her shoulders, so that his half-rolled up shirtsleeves are near her face. “I don’t know, do you see anything in there?”

 

“Let’s see,” she says, playing along, “I don’t think so, but I can’t really see. You might have to take this off.”

 

“I think that can be arranged,” he says, leaning down and kissing her. When he pulls away, she gives him a breathless smile.

 

“What ha…” she starts, but he kisses her again. Kissing back, her hand on the side of his face, she tries to determine what the heck happened today to… wake him up. She giggles warm breath on his face, and he starts laughing, too. “But… wait… stop,” she says, but she’s only half-joking about the “stop” part. Every time she tries to speak, he kisses her, and soon it’s clear that talking is the last thing on his mind.

 

Jim, I have to tell you something, she wants to say, wants to tell him about her conversation with Roy, about the job, the job that sounds pretty decent, and would he move in with her? All of this wants to escape her throat, but all that comes out is his name, and then his mouth is on hers again, and on her neck, and across her collarbone, and then the rest of her thoughts are shed along with her clothes. And this time there's nothing to make either of them feel awkward or worried - and it's better, a whole lot better.

 

But she’ll tell him. And she does. And he has a lot to tell her. Which he does. In the car, as they laugh over Wendy’s Frostys, obnoxious radio DJs, and all the museums she wants to see in the city. As he drives, sneaking glances at her from time to time, it occurs to him that this car trip is very different from all the other ones he's taken, and how every trip from now on would be different. If she wasn’t with him, every moment, her bright face smiling back at him, he’d still be doing a lot of speeding in this car, and he’d still be speeding for the same reason - to get back to her.