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.

Jim had mailed the letter the same night he wrote it to prevent himself from backing out. It was too late now. Trying to break into the mailbox at the post office was a federal offense and that was probably the last thing he needed at this point.

He requested his vacation days and somehow by the end of the day everyone knew he was going to California. Except for Creed, who wished him luck on his trip to Cambodia and offered "to call a guy."

Jim spent a week and a half packing and unpacking his suitcase while trying to figure out how a T-shirt could scream 'trying too hard.' After three days of being asked for an opinion, Mark's girlfriend got tired of it and offered to just pack for him (after first telling him, "You're such a woman, Jim"). After Jim agreed, she looked up the weather on Google and packed the suitcase in less than half an hour.

When the night of his departure rolled around, he felt sick. Mark dropped him off the airport with a simple "Good luck."

* * * * *

Jim's plane landed right on time.

He felt sick to his stomach but couldn't be sure if it was from the plane ride or his nerves. He guessed a combination of both and collected his carry-on luggage from the overhead compartment. The knots in his stomach tightened as he got off the plane and went through security.

This was really happening.

He collected his luggage and thought about running. He took a few deep breaths and walked as calmly as he could to the exit.

As he wound his way through the crowd in the arrivals gate, he tried to ignore the fact that his stomach was doing backflips. He tried to think of this like any other vacation: no expectations, no subtext, just fun. It was just troublesome that he knew better.

When he finally spotted her, his feet froze unexpectedly.

She was standing in the arrivals line, grinning like a fool and holding a sign with his last name written on it. She was wearing paint-stained blue jeans and a white tank top that showed off just how tan she had gotten, but it was the sunglasses perched on top of her head, pushing back her curls, that killed him.

She let out a squeal and ran to him. She bounced up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug. Her words were muffled against his shoulder when she spoke, "You're here! You're finally here!"

He could feel her wedding ring on the back of his neck. It was like a cross to a vampire, burning and telling him to run. He untangled her arms from around his neck and plastered on a smile. "Alert the media - Jim Halpert has arrived!"

She laughed and wrestled his suitcase from him. "I'll take it! You're probably tired after the flight and it's on wheels, Jim. I think I can handle it."

She winked and smiled and he wanted to say how good (great) it felt to hear her say his name, but he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he just laughed and let her lead him to the car.

* * * * *

The drive to Pam's place was pleasant. There was no time for silence; they caught each other up on their lives and told funny stories. It felt like old times, times before parking lot confessions and awkward good-bye parties.

Pam showed off her home with a kind of pride Jim had never seen in her before. California was certainly doing something good for her.

"This is my art room," Pam said as she pushed open a door. "This place is pretty big for a bungalow - it has four bedrooms. Obviously we didn't need that many, so we have the master bedroom, the guest room, my art room, and Roy has a den. At first he wasn't so sure about the art room, but - sorry, this is boring. You don't want to hear about decorating."

"Nah, no," Jim said. "Whatever you want to say I want to listen to. What's under the sheet?"

"Oh!" Pam said. She carefully lifted a plain white sheet off an easel, revealing a half-finished painting of the bungalow. "I really love this house, so I thought - well, it's not finished yet so it's probably not that good, but -"

"Pam," Jim interrupted and smiled, "it's great. Even half-finished, it's great."

Pam let out a breath. "Sorry, I'm just... well, nervous. Is that weird? I guess it's just 'cause I haven't seen you in so long. I don't know what to talk about first, you know? I don't want to waste a minute of this week."

"Me either," Jim agreed quietly. He cleared his throat. "So, when do I get to meet the infamous Maddie?"

"Oh, tonight," Pam told him. "We're going to go to dinner at a great place, The Firehouse. I mean, if you want. We can stay in and have grilled cheese or something if you're tired."

"No, I'm good," Jim said. "Something in the air has my energy up."

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.

After Pam showed him to his room, Jim unpacked his things and tried to take a nap. His nerves had kept him from sleeping on the flight and they were doing a good job of keeping him tossing and turning in the guest bed, too. He managed a few bursts of restless sleep before finally giving up and getting dressed for dinner.

He stared at himself in the mirror above the dresser and whispered, "It's not a date. Idiot."

Once he calmed his nerves, he took a deep breath and went to the living room. He turned the television on and was about to sit down when Pam called out his name.

"Jim! Come in here, I want to talk to you."

He turned the television off and made his way to her bedroom.

Pam was standing in front of a full-length mirror, straightening her hair and humming along to the radio. She had traded her paint-stained jeans for a pair of plaid pajama shorts.

Jim fought the impulse to stare at her legs. "What's up?"

"I haven't seen you in months," she said. She carefully ran the straightener through her hair. "I want to actually speak to you. I know television is riveting, but General Hospital isn't on right now, so I have no idea what you could be interested in watching."

She turned to smirk at him then focused her attention on herself in the mirror again. "So, tell me what you've been doing with yourself."

"Well," he answered, "just the same old stuff. Fighting crime, writing romance novels, experimenting in my underground lab - nothing unusual. What about you? Your life has got to be more exciting than mine."

"You know how in Scranton I spent my days at the office, doing work all day, and then Roy would give me a ride home?" she said. "Well, imagine that, but with more sun and Roy doesn't give me a ride home."

"Sorry to hear that," he said. He watched her set down the straightener and run her hands through her hair. "So, how is, uh, Roy?"

"Oh, um... good," she replied and plugged in the curling iron. "The same. He works and - well, he doesn't really like the beaches here, so he usually goes to the bars and whatever."

She frowned and hoped Jim couldn't see it in the mirror. "But, uh, hey - do you... do you really like that painting I sent you?"

Jim had seen her frown and had felt the tension in her voice, but he wouldn't push. If she wanted to talk about something, she would talk about it, wouldn't she? He tried not to think about it... which wasn't that hard to do because he got caught up in watching her start to curl the ends of her hair.

"Love it," he said. "But come on, you knew that. Why are you doubting yourself?"

"Not doubting, just... okay, doubting," she said. She sighed and began curling the next section of her hair. "I mean, it's not making me any money and it keeps me from doing stuff around the house and it is just a hobby. It's not -"

Nothing that was coming out of Pam's mouth sounded remotely like what she would actually believe, so Jim interrupted. "But do you love it?"

Pam set the curling iron down and turned to face him. "What do you mean?"

"Do you love doing it?" he said. "You can never give up on something you love."

She smiled and picked up her eyeshadow. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but instead turned to face the mirror again. She started putting on the eyeshadow. She said quietly, "You must be bored watching me doing my hair and everything. Sorry."

"Nope," he replied. "I'm picking up a lot of information. I need some pointers though. Am I a summer or a winter?"

Pam laughed and turned to face him. She smiled warmly and said, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Making me laugh," she said. She paused. "And believing in me."

He shrugged and said sincerely, "Impossible not to."

She turned around to hide the blush that crept onto her cheeks.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he said and rose to his feet. "I got something for you."

Before Pam could tell him that he shouldn't have, Jim had left the bedroom. He came back in the room, his hands behind his back.

"Don't make me die of suspense," she said and tried to peek around him to see what he was holding.

Jim grinned. "Well, I remember you said you had wanted a puppy..."

"You didn't..."

"No, I didn't," he said. He pulled a stuffed animal from behind his back. It was a light brown puppy with shiny black buttons for eyes. "I saw it in the airport and I figured, you know, even someone as busy as you could take of this guy."

Pam took the stuffed animal from him and ran her index finger over its heart-shaped nose.

She looked up at Jim and smiled a smile that she hoped said everything she couldn't.

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.

At six o'clock, Pam emerged from the bedroom wearing a dress that made Jim regret not coming to California sooner. It was a strapless black and cream V-neck with a satin cream-colored ribbon tied around the waist.

Jim rubbed the back of his neck and tried not to stare.

"Does this look okay?" she asked as she put her earrings in. "It's a nice place, so I don't want to look like a bum."

"You definitely lack any and all bum qualities," Jim said. "You look really beautiful. I'm the bum if anyone is."

"You look beautiful, too," Pam said with a grin. She slipped on a pair of black high heels. "Very GQ, I promise. Now, let's go. We can't waste time stroking your precious male ego. Maddie is a very punctual person."

Jim gestured for Pam to lead the way and followed her out of the house. When they reached Maddie's front door, Jim let out a breath. It felt like the day of his senior prom when his date ushered him around to various relatives' homes. He could only hope that Maddie didn't hate him as much as his prom date's grandmother had.

Pam knocked on the door before slowly pushing it open. She poked her head in and yelled out for Maddie. The older woman came from the kitchen, zipping her purse as she made her way to the door.

"Where is he? Where is he?" Maddie said excitedly.

Pam laughed and pushed open the door so Maddie could see Jim.

Maddie stopped and gave Jim a once over. "So, the infamous Jim! My, you're a handsome boy. If I was 10 years younger, you'd have a real problem on your hands."

Maddie wasn't exactly what Jim had been expecting. She was shorter than Pam and in great shape for someone who claimed to be 78. Her hair was perfectly done and her pink toenails perfectly complimented the cardigan she was wearing. Pam had used the word 'spirited' to describe her and Jim could see that radiating in her smile.

"Nice to meet you," Jim said with a smile. He reached out to shake Maddie's hand.

"Oh, and such a grip," Maddie exclaimed. She stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her. She winked at Pam. "They sure know how to make 'em in Pennsylvania."

"I could get used to all these compliments," Jim said and held a hand over his heart.

Pam placed her hand on Jim's forearm and shook her head. "Look what you've done, Maddie. I can practically see his head swelling before my very eyes."

Maddie looked from Jim's smiling face to Pam's shining eyes and shook her head slowly. She sighed and said quietly, "Oh, Pam."

Pam blushed and crossed her arms over her chest. She cleared her throat, hoping that Maddie would save any embarrassing observations for later. "Well, we should probably get going. Don't want to miss our reservation."

* * * * *

Dinner had gone exceptionally well, ending with Maddie declaring Jim her long lost son. Maddie loved hearing Jim and Pam's stories about Scranton, especially Michael and Dwight, who she was convinced couldn't possibly be real. Maddie told stories of her own, mostly about Hollywood because she knew how much Pam loved those, but she also decided to tell a new story: how she met her husband Henry.

"It was a few days after the Korean war ended," she told them, "and I was working in a diner in Los Angeles as a waitress, because even back then that's what you did when you were calling yourself an actress. It had been a real hell of a day and there was only fifteen minutes left in my shift. I just wanted to go home and relax, and what do you think happened? A bus full of returning soldiers pulls up and they all start piling out. I naturally tried to sneak out the back door, but the fry cook caught me and ratted me out - the bastard. I was stuck there for hours taking care of those guys. Now, I didn't mind really - they all deserved a lot more than the awful food in that joint. I wasn't allowed to leave until all of them were gone and it got to be midnight and there was one of them left, just sitting at the counter drinking coffee, and I couldn't leave until he shoved off."

Maddie paused to call the waiter over and order three pieces of the blueberry cheesecake.

When the waiter left, she continued, "Anyway, I wasn't too pleased as you can imagine. I went over and sweet as pie asked him, 'Hey, fella, I'm trying to clock out. You mind leaving?' He said no! I was getting huffy at this point and I demanded to know why and his exact words to me were 'Well, I've been sitting here all day trying to think of a nice way to ask you out to dinner and haven't come up with anything yet.'"

"Did you go out that night?" Pam asked.

"Sure as hell didn't," Maddie said with a laugh. "I told him I wasn't interested and he left. I thought that was that, but it turned out he was a local boy. He came to that diner almost every day just to talk to me. After a month, I decided he was pretty sweet and all, so I gave him a chance. Well, we got married two years later and George was born soon after that. Persistence pays off. I had a nice little life going on for a while there."

"What happened?" Jim asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Vietnam," Maddie answered. "I told him not to go, but do you think he listened? They sent him over in late '64 and in mid-'65 he came back in a box."

Maddie took a sip of wine. "I tried dating after, but... well, there's no going back once you've found the one."

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.

After dropping Maddie off, Jim and Pam decided they weren't tired yet, so Pam suggested they visit her favorite beach. It was a bit of a drive, but the night sky was clear and possibilities were buzzing in the air like fireflies.

Pam parked the car and grabbed a blanket from the backseat.

"If I'm any good at what I do, you should be able to recognize it from the painting, even if it is dark," Pam said. She slipped off her shoes and stepped onto the sand.

Jim took off his shoes and socks then rolled up the legs of his pants. "This isn't going to end like the first scene in Jaws, is it?"

Pam was glad that the darkness hid her blushing cheeks. She shook her head and picked up her shoes. "Come on, it's a lot better down by the water."

They walked toward the water in silence, both lost in thought. Neither would admit it, but they were both thinking about Maddie's story. Jim was sure he would sit in a diner every day if it meant Pam would be his. Hell, he'd sat in Dunder-Mifflin every day even though he had been positive she never would be. But, still, every day he would show up and park himself at the reception desk with a pocketful of hope.

Persistence pays off, he thought idly.

Pam spread the blanket on the sand and tried to clear her mind, but Maddie's words were still ringing in her ears. Had she found her one? Had she married the one... or had she left him on the other side of the country? She had always kept her letters to Jim light and casual, but she had always felt anything but while she was writing them. She didn't talk about Roy in the letters, never mentioned the problems they had been having lately, never mentioned that she stayed late at the shop so that he would probably be asleep by the time she got home. She felt guilty, like she wasn't making an effort to make the marriage work. She promised herself she'd be a new woman when he got back from this business trip. She would convince herself that Roy was the one no matter what it took.

She settled herself on the blanket next to Jim and couldn't stop herself from wondering. She sighed and lay back to look at the stars.

"It's a nice night," Jim said quietly.

"Yeah," she replied. "This is the nicest it's been in a couple weeks. I'm glad you got to see it." She reached up to touch his arm. "And I'm really glad you came."

Jim looked down at her and tried to smile through a broken heart. "Me too."

Pam let her arm fall to her side. She said slowly, "You know, I just... wanted to say sorry again."

"Don't," Jim said. He stared up at the sky to avoid her stare. "I don't need an apology. I mean, it's... it's water under the bridge. We're friends. We'll always be friends. Lets just forget about it, okay? Don't worry about it."

"Okay," Pam replied, her voice small. When she thought Jim wasn't looking, she wiped a tear from her eye. "Oh, um, Maddie wanted me to invite you to her birthday party on Wednesday. She said she needs a hot date."

"Wouldn't miss that for the world," he said. "Will you help me pick out a gift?"

"I think she'll be okay with you just letting her pinch your cheeks," Pam said and sat up.

Jim put his hands on his cheeks. "I don't know. She may damage my boyish dimples."

"I don't think those are the cheeks she's interested in, Jim," Pam replied, grinning widely.

"You've got some interesting friends, Beesly - uh, sorry... Anderson, I guess I should say, right?"

Pam shook her head. "Uh, no. I didn't... I didn't take Roy's name. It's just, I mean, Pam Anderson? I couldn't do that to myself. He's still kind of getting over it. I thought about going with the hyphen, but still. I can't be Pam Anderson."

Jim smiled. It felt like a small victory, but he wasn't sure why.

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.

The next morning, Jim awoke to the sound of knocking. When his sleepy brain managed to remember where he was, he let out a croaky, "Come in."

Pam opened the door and smiled at him. "Wow. You with bed head is outrageous."

"Thanks," he said and sat up. He rubbed his face and glanced at the alarm clock. "What's up?"

"I made breakfast," she told him. "I was just wondering if you wanted any before it became brunch."

"Absolutely," he said. "Just give me five minutes."

* * * * *

"Peanut butter and jelly pancakes."

"Peanut butter and jelly pancakes?"

"Peanut butter and jelly pancakes," Pam repeated as she set her plate down. "Should I be ready to repeat that again?"

Jim smiled. "I just have never heard of cuisine as creative as this. No need to mock the inexperienced, Pam."

"If I didn't know you better," Pam said, "I would swear that you were actually mocking me right now."

"Well, then, thankfully you know me better," he said. "So, what are the plans for today? Disneyland?"

"Not quite," she replied. "It's actually a surprise."

"It's Disneyland though, isn't it? I figured it out, so now you have to pretend it's not."

"I'm not sure you could be more wrong if you tried," she said and smiled. "If you ask me, it's better than Disneyland."

* * * * *

When Jim saw the bright red sign that read Maddie's Attic, he looked down at Pam. "Is this...?"

Pam smiled excitedly and unlocked the door. "I closed for this week for obvious reasons, but I thought you might like to see what I do all day."

She pushed the door open and switched on the lights. "It's a little crowded in here, but there's a method to the madness."

The walls were painted a subdued orange and adorned with mismatched knick-knacks. Various tables and benches were arranged to create a maze that led toward the fitting room and cash register. Lamps and what his grandmother called "closet treasures" were arranged somewhat haphazardly around the room, most perched on top of the assortment of furniture.

Jim ran his hand over the seat of a unicycle. "I guess I can see a little magic in here. Also, you know... probably ghosts."

"Now, see, sometimes I work nights," Pam said. "Why'd you have to do that?"

"Sorry," Jim said and grinned. "Did I ruin my chances of you showing me the art you have in here?"

Pam pretended to think it over. "Well... I guess I could show you, but it's against my better judgment. Come on."

Pam led Jim through the maze of furniture to a corner near the register. Three easels displaying paintings were set up and a few paintings hung on the wall behind them.

"We only just started putting it out," she said, "so we don't have a lot yet. When we start getting more interested artists we'll make more space for them."

Jim looked over the paintings carefully. There was something about art that fascinated him. He guessed it was probably because he couldn't do anything artistic if his life depended on it. Whatever it was about art that interested him, he liked it. It was just an added bonus that it was something he could talk about with her.

"That's one of yours," he said and pointed to a painting of a vase of flowers on the wall.

"Oh, uh, yeah," she said, surprised that he could pick out her work. "I finished it about two months ago. Not really one of my favorites, but -"

"How much?" he interrupted.

Pam stared at him, a quizzical expression on her face. "How much what? How much time it took me to finish it, or...?"

Jim smiled warmly. "How much money will it cost me to buy it?"

"Oh!" The dawn of realization flashed over Pam's face. She tucked her hair behind her ears. "Oh, you don't have to buy it. Come on, Jim. That's - That's really nice of you. Thank you."

"This isn't a confidence boost, Beesly," he said. "I want to buy it. Whenever Mark's girlfriend brings real flowers to the house, they die a terrible death. I figure this is a safe compromise. Not to mention, you know... it's really good. How much?"

"I can't let you buy it," she said.

Jim's face fell. "Oh. Okay, sure. That's cool."

"No, no," she said quickly. She reached up and tried to remove the painting from the wall, but couldn't reach it. "I mean, I can't let you buy it... because I want you to have it. I mean, if you like it."

Jim reached around her and took the painting off the wall. He ran his index finger over the brush strokes and murmured, "Love it."

He looked up at her and smiled. "You'll never make any money this way. You're gonna run Maddie out of business and then how will you feel?"

"I think Maddie will understand," Pam replied. "Just this once though. Let's not make a habit of it. And, I tell you what, if you really feel bad - you can buy lunch."

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.

Jim had refused to leave the painting in the car. He set it up in the booth next to him at the diner, something that made Pam both embarrassed and strangely proud. She had to admit that it was nice having someone around who really believed in her. She just couldn't say it out loud.

Jim grabbed a menu from behind the ketchup bottle. "So, what's good here?"

"Everything," Pam replied. "I usually go with the macaroni and cheese dinner. Very comforting."

"Sounds good to me," Jim said. "And, oh, look at that. Apparently this place has the number one milkshake in all of America. Lofty."

"Their menu has very high self-esteem," Pam agreed.

When the waitress came around, Jim ordered two macaroni and cheese dinners and two milkshakes.

"So, Maddie's birthday is tomorrow," Jim said. "I assume it's a formal affair."

"Strictly coat and tie," Pam agreed, smiling. "We'll have to get you a ball gown."

Jim laughed. "I see how it is. Wow. You know, you better be careful. She clearly loves me, so I would hate for you to be uninvited."

"James Halpert, are you threatening me?"

"I'm just saying, maybe you might want to be a little nicer to me," Jim said and grinned.

Pam took both his hands in hers. She looked him in the eye and spoke with mock seriousness. "I don't want to upset you, Jim. I lo - I don't want you ruining my friendship with Maddie."

Jim fought the impulse to kiss her hand. Instead, he took a breath and carefully slid his hands away from hers. He knew that whatever he said next had the possibility to bury him, so he played it cool.

"Too bad she's so clearly in love with me," he said, hoping his tone was light. "I may have found the woman I want to marry. Will it be awkward for you to be Maddie's bridesmaid?"

Pam exhaled. "Insanely so."

"Then you can be my best man," he said. "I wanna keep you close, Beesly."

She smiled and traced the pattern on the placemat with her index finger. She stared down at the table, storm clouds and ocean currents churning in her eyes. She wanted to bring up what they had talked about at the beach, wanted to ask how he had ever forgiven her. She wasn't sure that she had even forgiven herself. It was a slippery slope.

Before she could decide if she wanted to bring it up again, the waitress came to the table to serve their food. After agreeing that the milkshakes were indeed number one in the nation, they ate in silence for a few minutes.

Pam stabbed at her macaroni and cheese. "Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"You can ask as many as you want," he replied.

It wasn't like the last time she had said that. This time it wasn't the cameras stopping her from saying what she wanted to - it was herself. She bit her bottom lip then asked, "How's your food?"

"Cheesy and delicious," he said. "Probably the best mac 'n' cheese my taste buds have ever seen."

"Good, good."

"So, that was really your question?"

She couldn't look him in the eye, so she stared down at her food. "Yeah. Why? What'd you think I was gonna ask?"

"No, nothing," he said. He added quietly, "I wasn't expecting anything more from you."

"Sorry," she said quietly. She covered her dish with her napkin and stood up. "Excuse me."

After she walked away from the booth, Jim shook his head and set his fork down. It had come out a little harsh, he knew that, but he couldn't explain what he had meant. He couldn't explain that it wasn't her fault that he was always expecting so much from her. It wasn't fair. She was married now and they would probably spend the rest of their lives talking in doublespeak.

When Pam returned, she asked, "You ready to go?"

"Yeah."

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.

They had gotten over yesterday's hiccup at lunch easily, both determined to make the best of the week. They didn't discuss it directly, but through many words with double meanings they had come to a solid agreement. It was almost astonishing how much meaning they could force into a conversation about the broken air conditioning in Pam's car.

They both wanted to have a good time at the birthday party and nothing was going to stop them.

Pam had spent the evening of Maddie's party baking a cake that looked like a parrot. Jim had no technical or theoretical experience with baking, so he sat back, offered encouragement and mixed drinks for the two of them.

By the time the cake was decorated, they were both pretty buzzed. Jim was worried about this because the last time he felt like this he had told Michael a pretty big secret. He didn't want to tell the same secret to Pam, but with every mixed drink the secret crept closer and closer to the tip of his tongue. He munched on pretzels and tried to keep his mouth shut.

"There!" Pam exclaimed proudly. She turned the cake around so Jim could see it. "What do you think?"

"Really good," Jim said. "Why a parrot though? That's what I've been wanting to ask."

Pam wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, accidentally smearing orange frosting on her face. She was too tipsy to notice or care. "Well, Maddie used to have a parrot named Ferdinand, and - and he was just... awesome, apparently. She loves birds, too, so I thought - why are you looking at me like that?"

Jim smirked. He wiped his index finger across her forehead to collect some of the icing and licked it off his finger. "You're delicious. If the cake tastes half as good as your forehead, everyone will love you. It. Everyone will love it."

Pam wiped her forehead with her hand, but that only spread the icing even more.

They both cracked up laughing.

* * * * *

Once they had sobered up and changed clothes, they went next door. Maddie's party was in full swing by the time they walked through the front door. People of all ages were milling around the house, talking and laughing. Jim had to admit he'd never seen a turn out like this for a 79th birthday party.

After Pam put the cake in the kitchen, she grabbed Jim's hand and led him to the backyard. Maddie was seated at a table, playing poker and sipping the largest margarita Jim had ever seen in his life. Seated with her was a man about her age, a woman who must have been in her 40s, and a boy who looked like he was a year shy of graduating high school.

"Pam! And Jim!" Maddie exclaimed. She waved them over to the table. "Everybody, my hot date is here!"

Jim smiled and made his way over to Maddie. He leaned down to kiss her cheek and took a look at her cards. "Oh, good hand. I'd be worried."

"Jim, this is Rupert, Darlene, and Little Doug," Maddie introduced. "This is Jim, everyone."

"It's just Doug now," the boy said. He straightened his posture to appear older. "I'm not little anymore. Hi, Pam."

Pam smiled at him. "Hey, Doug. How bad is Maddie kicking your ass tonight?"

"Ah, well." Dough blushed. "I'm doing okay here."

"He'll be mowing the lawn free of charge for a couple months," Maddie said. "I'm beating them all something good. You two want to be dealed in?"

"Nope, I know better," Pam replied. She playfully elbowed Jim in the ribs. "You might be able to steal some of this guy's money though."

"I don't know," Maddie said. She eyed Jim playfully. "He looks pretty sharp... but I'm willing to give it a shot. You up to the challenge, Jim?"

"I think I am," Jim said. "For one hand at least."

"Excellent," Maddie said. "Doug, Pam, could you do me a favor and see how we are on food? I want to have a little talk with this young fellow while I take him for all he's worth."

Doug couldn't get out of his chair fast enough. As they walked back toward the kitchen, Jim could hear Doug talking a mile a minute about his favorite artists. He chuckled to himself.

"Pam's got herself a boyfriend, huh?" he asked.

"Oh my, yes," Maddie said as she dealt the cards. "Little Doug has quite the crush on her. He's a sweet boy. It must be tough to be so in love with a married woman."

Maddie's eyes flashed up at Jim. She held his gaze for a moment before turning her attention back to the cards.

"It doesn't hurt to hope," Rupert said. "Just look at you and Henry. If the poor sap never had hope, you would've been a lonely lady."

"Rupie's got a point," Darlene chimed in. "Even a cynic like you's gotta believe in miracles sometimes."

Maddie shrugged. "I don't know that there's hope for Little Doug there." She looked up at Jim again. "I think that's someone else's place."

"Yeah, how is that husband of hers anyway?" Rupert asked.

Maddie shook her head and looked down at her cards. "Fine, I s'pose. Away on business. I don't know him too well yet. I've heard a lot more about the other people in Pam's life. I guess things are just funny that way, aren't they?"

Jim could feel that tiny ember of hope in his belly start to throw off sparks.

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.

Somewhere around one in the morning, Maddie had forty of Jim's dollars in her pocket. Unable to figure out her secret, Jim threw in the towel and grabbed another beer from the fridge. He couldn't find Pam in the slowly decreasing sea of people, so he went out to the front porch and sat on the steps.

He twisted the cap off his beer and took a long drink. He spun the bottle cap absentmindedly in his fingers and tried to figure out how Maddie had managed to sneak that much money away from him. He considered himself an above average card player and was generally in tune with the other players at the table. He could read people well; it was sort of a gift. Maybe he just never guessed a 79 year old woman would be gunning for his wallet. He wouldn't be giving anyone any leeway from now on, no matter how sweet and innocent they looked.

He took another sip of beer and looked up at the night sky. Streetlights were few and far between on this stretch of road, which gave Jim an unfettered view of the stars. Music and laughter floated through an open window and he didn't feel alone. He tried not to let the alcohol or Maddie's words get to his head, or worse: both. He wasn't dense. He knew what she had been saying, but... did it matter? Even if Pam had the smallest, most insignificant feelings for him, what could he do about it? She was married. That wasn't a line he was willing to cross, no matter how much it hurt not to. The moment she said "I do" was the moment the ball rolled back into her court.

He held the bottle cap between his index finger and thumb then held it up against the night sky. He brought it close to his face then stretched out his arm so it was farther away. He repeated this for a few times before tucking the cap in his pocket. It was like his problem - the closer he was to her, the closer his trouble; the farther away he got, the farther the trouble. And for now he tucked it all away. He could think about it again when he was sober.

A rustling sound came from the bushes near the side of the house.

Jim leaned forward slightly and turned his head to see if he could see what was making the noise. For a moment he couldn't make anything out in the darkness, but then Little Doug came into view. He was staggering, keeping his balance by holding onto the side of the house. He tripped over his own foot and fell into the bushes.

"Whoa, there!" Jim said. He set his beer down and went to go help Doug out of the bushes. As he pulled the boy to his feet, he asked, "You okay?"

"Big O, little K," Doug slurred, clearly intoxicated.

Jim held onto him tightly so he didn't tumble to the ground. "How old are you, Doug?"

"Seven - Seventeen," Doug replied. "Don't tell Maddie I'm drunk, okay? She'll get mad. Ha. Maddie. Mad. Mad. Maddie. Get it?"

"Yep," Jim said. He carefully led Doug to the front steps and sat him down. "You been stealing drinks all night, buddy?"

Doug shook his head. "Daniel gave me some. All night. Good stuff. Beer."

Doug started laughing and tumbled forward off the step. He landed in the grass near the steps and turned over on his back.

"You okay?" Jim asked.

Doug patted the grass with his hand and grinned. "I cut this. Ten bucks a week. You want me to cut your grass? You pay more cause you're not old."

"I don't live here," Jim said. He helped Doug to sit up.

"Oh, yeah," Doug said. He examined Jim's face closely. "You're Fam's priend. Pam's friend. I like Pam. A lot."

"I bet you do," Jim said and helped Doug to his feet.

"You - You get to spend this whooole week with her," Doug said. "Alone. Like, I'm jealous, because I like - like her soooo much. And she's married and it's like... what the hell, you know? Cause, like, I'm gonna graduate next year and I think - I think I'm gonna get a good job. You think she would go out with me if I had a nice job?"

"I think you're a little young for her," Jim replied. He helped Doug sit on the steps again and made sure he wouldn't fall. "And I don't think she's gonna be dating anyone any time soon - she's married."

"Damn," Doug said. "Cause... I like her, man. Could - Will you talk to her for me?"

"Sure," Jim said. He couldn't keep from smiling. "I'll let you know how that goes."

"Okay. Thanks, bro," Doug said. He closed his eyes. "Let me know when Daniel gets here. He said he'd walk me home, cause I - I can't. By myself. He said."

"I'll go find him for you," Jim said. "Will you be okay while I go inside?"

Doug gave a thumbs up.

Jim shook his head and walked up the steps. Before he could reach the front door, it opened and Pam exited, followed by Daniel.

"Have you seen Doug?" Daniel asked. "I told him to -"

Daniel was interrupted by the sound of Doug vomiting on the walkway leading to the front steps. He cringed. "Nevermind. I think I know where he is."

Jim nodded and they went to examine Doug.

Doug wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked up at the three of them. "I feel better. Hi, Pam. Don't - Don't look, okay?"

"Wasn't really tempted to, but okay, Dougie," Pam said. She turned around to face the front door.

As Daniel helped Doug to his feet, Doug swore. "It's just Doug. God."

As Daniel helped Doug walk carefully down the street, they could hear Doug ranting and raving about being an adult.

"That should get cleaned up," Jim said. "Is there a hose somewhere?"

"On the side of the house," Pam said and pointed.

Jim found the hose and, as he washed the sidewalk, he couldn't help but think that this wasn't exactly how he had planned to end this night.

"Doug's a real fan of yours," Jim said. He shut the hose off and put it back where he found it.

"Yeah," Pam replied. She sat on the top step and stole a drink of Jim's beer. "It's cute, I guess."

"Not your type?" Jim teased. He accepted the beer when Pam held it out to him.

"Not exactly," she said and laughed.

"So, what is your type, Beesly?" Jim asked and took a long drink.

Pam tilted her head and looked at him. "Honestly? I'm still figuring that out."

Jim smiled.

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.

The next morning, Jim woke up with a hangover and a sense of purpose. Maddie's carefully chosen words had meant something and he couldn't help but wonder what Maddie and Pam talked about during their mornings together. Did they talk about him? Had Pam told her about casino night? Had she said that she had feelings for him? No amount of badgering, sober or drunken, had convinced Maddie to open up. She only said, "It was girl talk. And you're not a girl, which... thank the good Lord for that, honey."

He would have to make up his mind. The rest of this week would set the tone for his friendship with Pam... in that there either would or wouldn't be one. He couldn't be just friends with her. He would always want more than that. Maybe she wanted it too now. Maybe something in California had helped change her mind. If he was being honest with himself, he was too terrified to ask.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," he said, his voice gravelly from sleep and the hangover.

Pam opened the door and leaned against the door frame. She looked like the walking wounded. Her hair was a mess and she was bundled in a fuzzy blue robe. She yawned and rubbed at her eyes.

"Are you feeling better than I am?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"Probably worse," Jim said. He pulled the covers up to his chin. "You didn't go shot for shot with that Daniel guy. Although, I bet I'm in better shape than Doug."

Pam wandered over and sat on the edge of the bed. "Yeah, but Maddie was mixing my drinks all night, which can get pretty dangerous. So, do you mind if we just bum around the house? I think I'm dying."

"I was going to suggest it if you didn't," Jim said.

"You want breakfast or anything?"

"That's too big a step," Jim replied and pulled the covers over his head.

* * * * *

They spent most of the afternoon on opposite ends of the sofa, bundled up in blankets, watching cheesy reality TV shows and The Princess Bride. They quoted their favorite lines out loud and laughed at all the best parts, but were silent for all the kissing parts and whenever Westley spoke of true love. They could both feel an undefinable something in the air.

Jim licked his lips. "Pam -"

"Do you want lunch?" she interrupted. "I think my stomach can finally handle something other than water."

"Uh, yeah," Jim said. "That's... yeah, exactly what I was gonna suggest. I think I'm gonna make a PB&J, you want one?"

"Yeah, that sounds great," Pam said. She snuggled deeper into her blanket. "Thanks, Jim."

Jim nodded and went into the kitchen. He rubbed his hand over his face and tried to pinpoint the exact moment this week started slipping away from him. It was pretty heavy thinking for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

He made the sandwiches, plated them and went back into the living room.

"Your Jim Halpert culinary miracle," he joked as he handed Pam her plate. He sat down on his end of the couch and took a big bite out of his sandwich. What was it Charlie Brown had said? Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love? Yeah, that was it... and it was terribly true.

Pam tore the sandwich in half then tore off the corner and popped it on her tongue. "You know, even with a hangover, this has been a great day."

"Yeah, too bad we can't do it more often," he replied.

"Yeah," she said. "You know, I miss you, Jim."

He turned to look at her but didn't say anything. He wouldn't be the one to put himself on the line this time. He wanted to hear her say it now.

She blushed and stared down at her sandwich. She mumbled, "Have you seen the remote?"

He sighed and handed it to her.

* * * * *

That evening they sat side by side on the porch swing and watched the sunset. During the day Jim's hangover had subsided, but the feelings had not. He knew that he would regret it if he went back to Scranton without saying something. No matter what her answer was, at least he'd know.

She sighed contentedly and rested her head on his shoulder.

"This is nice," she said. "I wouldn't change it for the world."

He frowned. "Yeah. Me either."

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.

The weather on his last day in California had been the best of the entire vacation, so they had a quick lunch with Maddie before loading up the car and heading to the beach.

They snacked on trail mix, watched the waves and talked about nothing in particular. It all felt so strange to Jim. This week had given him a glimpse of what it would be like to date Pam, to spend time just being with her. He looked over at her and smiled. It was all he could do.

"What?" she asked with a laugh.

He shook his head and smiled wider. "Nothing."

"Come on, lets go in the water," she said and stood. As she was rolling up the legs of her jeans, she added, "It's too cold to swim, but we can get our feet wet."

"Nah, I'm good," he said. "I came to California to avoid being cold."

She stuck her tongue out at him playfully and bounded off toward the ocean.

Jim dug his toes into the warm sand. His stomach was in knots as he watched Pam kick at the small waves as they rolled onto the beach. This was his last day in California and maybe it was his last chance. He had really enjoyed this week with her, but as time wound down, he began to think that maybe it was time to let her go. He couldn't live forever in a world of What do you expect me to say and I can't. The cards had fallen and he would have to start playing the hand he was dealt.

Pam jogged back to him and sat down. "That was a lot colder than I thought it'd be. I love the beach. You know, sometimes I close the shop early and come out here to just watch the sunset."

"I bet it's beautiful," Jim replied. He turned to look at her. In that moment he knew that the night was going to kill him.

"Here's what I'm thinking," Pam said, smiling. "I say we go and buy a bottle of wine and make dinner. We have to make your last night here special."

He couldn't argue with that.

* * * * *

On the way back from the beach they had bought an expensive bottle of red wine for the occasion and stopped for an ice cream cone at a small roadside stand. By the time they got back to the bungalow, the sun was close to setting. Jim opened the wine and poured two glasses while Pam taught him how to make Maddie's Cajun chicken. They drank while they cooked, told jokes and just enjoyed being with each other again.

Their heads were swimming by the time dinner was ready, so they opted for water instead of wine. The chicken was delicious and Jim complimented her on it after every other bite. It made her smile every time.

For dessert they had store bought cheesecake and more wine. It definitely wasn't the cheesecake that made Jim's cheeks go red and it certainly wasn't the cheesecake that made Pam get the giggles.

"So good," Jim said and took another sip.

Pam finished the rest of her wine and ran her finger up and down the stem of the glass. "Well, it's no Maiolatesi wine, but it's still good."

Jim grinned. "Did I tell you how good dinner was? Did I - Did I mention that?"

"Only eight or nine thousand times," Pam said. Her grin was lopsided. "Thank you. I'm glad someone appreciates my cooking."

"I appreciate everything about you," he told her sincerely.

She blushed and hoped he would think it was from the wine.

* * * * *

An hour and a half later, the wine was gone and so was their buzz. They settled into the mundane activity of washing the dishes, but neither complained. Pam washed while Jim stood beside her and dried. Their conversations during the week had been mostly casual and fun, but the morning and separation was weighing heavily on them now. They had talked about Maddie and her husband and how they couldn't imagine how hard that must be.

"If I loved someone," Jim said quietly, "well, nevermind."

"Living without your soulmate," Pam said and stared into the sink. "I bet that hurts. Or living without true love. A sort of pain under your ribs, maybe, that never goes away. Maybe I heard that somewhere. I - I don't know."

Jim carefully set a plate down on the counter. "It's hard - I mean, I bet it's gotta be hard to live without... yeah. Even if you've got love, if it's not the right person or the right - well, I dunno. It's stupid. Too much wine."

"Too much wine," she repeated quietly.

Pam nodded slowly and took the dishcloth from Jim to dry her hands. She clenched her jaw and looked up into his eyes. She couldn't say what she wanted to out loud. The ring on her finger welded her mouth shut. She could only hope that he would just know.

He could see a spark within her eyes for the first time - it was the same spark he had deep within himself, the one he had been trying so hard to kill. Without thinking, he moved his hands to her waist.

The air was hot and he was suffocating, but he wasn't sure if it was for a lack of air or if it was the feel of the fabric of her jeans under his fingertips. He stared down at her, willing his eyes to say everything that he wouldn't repeat again. I love you. I just needed you to know. She already knew, anyway. He didn't dare move any further, because this time it was all more serious. There was a lot more to lose this time around - married ain't engaged, and it's a BFD.

When she made no move against him or for him, he allowed his hands to fall away from her hips. They hung meaningless at his sides, all the could have been's written in permanent ink on the skin.

He thought he saw disappointment flash in her eyes, but tears were clouding his own vision.

"Sorry," he said, his voice gruff as if he'd been sleeping or crying. He'd be doing one or the other soon enough. He took a slow, small step back and didn't break eye contact. The harsh realization that the time for words and baby steps was a year ago hit him quickly and his frown deepened. He'd put himself out there - twice - and she could only manage to stare at him.

He walked away from her for the second time. He paused at the doorway. He tapped lightly on the door frame and said quietly over his shoulder, "I'm not drunk."

He walked away without another word.

Pam pushed away from the counter and ran a hand through her hair. She wasn't sure what she wanted or needed to do. She thought about going after Jim, but she knew what she would say wouldn't be what he wanted to hear. She had obligations now and things were different... except in that all the things were the same. Her skin was a little tanner, but that was all. She was still the mousy receptionist and maybe that's all she would ever be.

She made herself a cup of tea and went to the patio to have a good cry.

She sat on the wicker sofa and pulled her knees up to her chest. She took a sip of tea and hoped it would wash down the heaviness. Rejection wasn't something she enjoyed doling out, but when it came to Jim it seemed like she always had plenty leftover for next time.

Next time, next time - as if Jim would do it all over again. She wanted desperately to fall into his arms, but the ring weighed heavily on her finger and mind. It was too late now, there was nothing she could do. She had said "I do" instead of "I can't" and that had sealed her - their - fate once and for all... but she couldn't help thinking what if? What if she had called off the wedding? What if she had leaped into Jim's arms in the kitchen? What if she went to his room right now?

Her body felt like lead. She couldn't go to Jim now. He probably didn't want to see her again, anyway. She couldn't repair the damage she had done this time. Her future was certain now. She would spend her days at the antique shop and come home to lukewarm feelings. She'd drown her sorrows with Maddie, who would undoubtedly tut and say "Well, life is life" just like she always did.

It wasn't all so bad, was it? It wasn't perfect... but she had given up on perfect a long time ago.

She hoped that would help erase the sinking feeling in her stomach because the tea certainly hadn't been helping any.

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.

Pam awoke to the sound of birds chirping. She opened her eyes and realized she had fallen asleep on the wicker couch on the patio. The air was foggy and cold, not exactly a perfect morning.

She rubbed her eyes and sat up. The concrete was cold on her bare feet. She sighed. "Damn it."

She got up and went into the house, determined to make things right with him. She hadn't said what she should have, didn't react the way she wanted to. She needed to explain why she couldn't be with him. She lived in California. She was married now. Her life wasn't romantic, sure, but she had given up that a long time ago. The minute she said "I do" it no longer mattered that her husband and the man she loved were two different people. She couldn't disappoint everyone now. She had commitments, obligations, responsibilities. She owed it to everyone to make this marriage work, didn't she?

She hoped Jim would understand, or at least be polite enough to pretend to.

She took a deep breath and knocked on his door. "Jim? Can we talk?"

When she got no response, she knocked again. "Jim?"

There was still no response, so she pushed the door open. The bed was made and his luggage was gone. The only evidence that he had been in the room at all was the faint smell of his aftershave.

She went to the bed, sat down and buried her head in her hands.

The tears came freely and she told herself it was okay. She was crying over more than just Jim. With his absence came the realization that this was her life now. California was her future. She would spend her mornings with a woman old enough to be her grandmother, she would work alone in the afternoons, and at night she would come home and hope her husband was already asleep. She would eat dinner alone every night and sit on the porch swing with a glass of wine until she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer.

It wasn't so bad, was it? The weather was nice at least and nobody would be disappointed in her.

Except herself.

She put her hands in her lap and noticed a note on the nightstand. She wiped her tears away and picked it up.

Pam,

Took a taxi to the airport. Don't worry about me any more.

I think it'd be best if we didn't keep in touch from now on. I need to get over you, because that's what you want.

I just want you to be happy and if you think you are, then, well, who am I to ruin that, right?

- Jim

P.S. It may be stupid, but you'll always be my best friend.

She clutched the note in her fist and began crying again.

This would be the last letter she would get from Jim Halpert, and it left a terrible, bitter taste in her mouth.

Why was she crying? She was getting what she wanted, wasn't she?

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.

The week after his vacation had been hell. He spent his days at work brushing off questions about the trip and spent his nights sitting on his couch drinking imported beer. By the second week everyone had stopped asking questions and he was grateful. He figured he must have looked terrible because even Michael was leaving him alone.

Things had returned relatively normal after a while and he started to feel like maybe he would get through this okay, but then something terrible happened: Valentine's Day.

Angela had decorated the office with hearts and streamers and it all made Jim physically sick. He toyed with the idea of going home early, but he didn't want Michael prying into his business or, worse, trying to cure his illness with chicken soup and tasteless jokes. He sat at his desk all day, doing his work and trying his best to ignore the dying fire in his chest.

A few minutes before the lunch break, Abby went around the office and passed out homemade Valentines to everyone in the office. Angela disapproved because she considered some of the cards "inappropriate," but accepted hers all the same because it was in the shape of a cat and Abby had written 'You're the cat's meow!' on it.

Abby's Valentine to Jim was a basketball and proclaimed him 'a slam dunk of a guy'. He smiled at the effort and put it on his desk, in the spot where the picture of himself and Pam used to be. He considered it a stepping stone in his recovery and decided to have lunch. He grabbed his sandwich from the fridge and went to the break room.

Abby was in the room by herself, reading a textbook and taking notes. Without looking up from her notes, she said, "Hey, Jim."

"Hey," he said and sat across from her. "Thanks for the card. Does Hallmark know about you?"

"They're interested," she replied. "They're sending over a contract." She cleared her throat. "So... you wanna talk about it?"

Somewhere along the line, Abby had come to be like a little sister to Jim. Over the few months that Abby had been working at Dunder-Mifflin, they had bonded over lunch, college professor war stories, and a never ending game of tic-tac-toe. Abby's psychology classes just made her a different kind of pesky little sister.

"About the contract?" Jim replied as he took his sandwich out of the brown paper bag. "I don't know. I'd have a lawyer look over it, I just sell paper."

Abby rolled her eyes and looked up from her textbook. "I learned about avoidance last week, you know."

"I don't have anything to talk about," Jim said and shrugged.

"You're such a guy," Abby sighed. She ripped a piece of paper from her notebook and drew a tic-tac-toe box in the corner. She drew an X in the top left corner before sliding the paper and pencil over to Jim. "Well, anyway, Jeremy called me on Saturday."

"I don't like that kid," Jim replied. He drew an O in the center box and slid the paper and pencil back to Abby.

"You've never even met him," Abby said. She drew another X.

Jim grabbed the paper and pencil from her. "Not relevant. Kid's a bum." He drew an O under his previous one.

"So, what you're saying," Abby said as she took the pencil and paper from Jim, "is that you don't even have to meet someone to know that they're right or not right for someone that you do know really well? Like, you just have to hear stories and stuff from other people and it's possible to figure that kind of stuff out. That is the point you're making?"

"Yes," Jim said. "It's entirely possible to do that is what I'm saying and from what I've heard, from you - the kid's a bum."

"So, I guess that I would be able to tell the same about you, right?" Abby said. She looked Jim in the eye. "I mean, if I had heard a lot about someone and you, from, like, everyone in this office, then I could -"

"Nope," Jim said and shook his head. "That is different. That is - are you ever going to make another move or what?"

"Funny," Abby said and smirked. "I was gonna ask you the same thing."

She made an elaborate show of drawing her last X. She slid the paper over to Jim and smiled. "I win."

She picked up her textbook and notes then stood. "Don't worry - I'm not going out with Jeremy again. He was a total d-bag the last time I saw him, anyway." She hugged her book close to her chest. "And I mean, if someone like you, who knows a lot about me and clearly knows that -"

"I got your point like five minutes ago," Jim said. He slid the tic-tac-toe paper around in circles with his index finger. "I appreciate it, I really do, but... I don't think so. Water cooler gossip isn't the whole story, so don't believe what you hear around here. Especially if it's Creed talking."

"Well," Abby said, "if you ever need to talk... I could probably find someone for you."

Jim crumpled up the tic-tac-toe paper and playfully threw it at her. "Thanks. Is your mom still single?"

"You are sick," Abby said. She made an exaggerated disgusted face. "There is something wrong with you, seriously."

"Go to your desk," Jim replied. He smirked. "See, I'm practicing for when I totally marry your mom and become your father."

"Holy inappropriateness in the workplace, Batman," Abby said and shook her head. She tried to hide her smirk.

"A toe over the line," Jim agreed, grinning.

"Try a leg," Abby said. She stuck her tongue out at him and left the break room.

Jim put his hands on the back of his head and leaned back in his chair. However thinly veiled it may have been, he had just had an easygoing, light conversation about Pam, something he wasn't sure could ever happen. Sure, it still hurt like all hell, but it wasn't the end of the world.

Maybe, just maybe, he was going to be okay.

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.

A week's time had taken the sting out of the disappointment of Valentine's Day, and Jim had done a lot to convince himself that he was going to get over his time in California. He hid the memory card from his digital camera - the one that had all his pictures from California on it - in a shoebox in his closet. He bought a new one at Wal*Mart and considered it a fresh start.

The next morning, he walked into the office and immediately regretted getting out of bed. Everyone was gathered in the middle of the office and Michael was handing out props. Abby accepted a small box with air holes and walked back to her desk.

"What, uh, is going on here?" Jim asked.

"It's an enrichment exercise," Abby told him. "Michael is making us perform Cinderella at lunch. He invited clients and people to come watch us and everything. At this point... I really wish I had taken that job at Wal*Mart."

When Michael spotted Jim, he grinned and rushed over. "There he is - Prince Charming!"

Before Jim could protest, Michael shoved a plastic sword in his arms and put a pink construction paper crown on his head.

"Nope," Jim said. He took the paper crown off. "My question is: why?"

"Advertising!" Michael explained. "We need to be accessbile to our customers, Jim. I want them to see how talented we are here at Dunder-Mifflin. So, everyone is voluntarily participating in this mandatory, fun-filled, exciting, mandatory event. 'Kay, buddy?"

"Fine," Jim said and sighed. "But I think Dwight should be the prince. He's perfect for the role, if you ask me."

"Dwight is the dog. He was going to be the pumpkin, but Abby said she wouldn't ride him piggyback when he turns into the carriage," Michael explained. As an afterthought, he turned to Abby. "Keep an eye on those mice. I might want to save them in case we do the Three Blind Mice."

Abby nodded and opened the small box. "There are only two mice in here."

Michael grimaced. "Well... I'm sure it'll be fine."

* * * * *

The office ground to a halt in order for everyone to prepare for Michael's play. He had shockingly received around twenty positive responses to the 158 invitations he had sent out, so as far as Jim was concerned, they would be embarrassing themselves in front of a live audience. He had tried to sneak out of the office, but Dwight had caught him and tried to report him AWOL. Michael was too busy picking out a "director-y" baseball cap to care.

It was fifteen minutes until the public humiliation began and people were starting to come into the office. Michael ushered them into the conference room as they arrived, babbling on excitedly about his "creative vision." The play's cast was in the break room, trying to mentally prepare themselves.

Jim held the plastic sword and placed the construction paper crown on his head. He looked at Abby and said, "Could you, maybe, like, I don't know - kill me?"

Abby pointed at the red bandana on her head. "Look at me. I'm Cinderella if she was in the Bloods, Jim. Ghettorella."

When Michael came into the room to collect his actors for an introduction, Jim wasn't sure that his day could get any worse. He took a deep breath and followed Phyllis and Abby into the conference room. He stared down at his feet, willing the building to collpase under him because he was sure it would actually make his day better.

Michael and Dwight had moved the table out of the room in the morning and set up a few rows of chairs for guests.

"Welcome, new and old friends," Michael greeted, grinning ear to ear. "I say friends because we are. You're not just clients, you're not just former employees - you're friends of Dunder-Mifflin Scranton. And you can be friends with me on MySpace, too. I'm trying to fill up my top eight. Right now Tom is my number one, but he sends me messages all the time. We're close. MySpace.com, bigmikethatswhatshesaid."

He pointed to Abby. "Anyway, this is Abby. She is a Gemini, loves Captain Crunch and will be playing Cinderella. Abby, take a bow. Take - Take a bow. Just... forget it. God."

Michael pointed to Jim. "This is Jim. He's my best friend, he sells paper and he's third hottest in the office after Ryan and then me. He will be playing Prince Charming. Jim, take a bow. Take - Never mind, just - just look at the people."

Jim shook his head but looked up anyway. He scanned the crowd slowly, hoping none of his clients had showed up for this atrocity. When he saw the last face in the crowd, his breath caught in his throat.

"Pam," he sputtered. His eyes widened when he realized he said it out loud. He hoped the building would collapse and swallow him whole right now.

"Oh, yeah!" Michael exclaimed. He pointed to Pam. "And back there ladies and germs is Pam Beesly! She used to be our hostess with the mostest! Not literally, of course, because we're a paper company and not a restaurant, but... still attractive. Still hot. Phyllis was kind enough to invite her today, which is great because Phyllis is an ugly - Phyllis is playing the ugly hag, the witch, the - Phyllis, you're a handsome woman! Please stay!"

* * * * *

Creed adjusted the wig on his head and stared down at the Post-It note in his hand. He cleared his throat and sang, "Be our guest, be our guest! Put our service to the test -"

"Wrong!" Michael bellowed from the audience. He pinched the bridge of his nose as the rest of the room broke into laughter. "Just... next scene! Next scene!"

* * * * *

The play hadn't been going as Michael planned. Half of the guests had left three-quarters of the way through the performance and the employees were treating it like improv class. Honestly, Michael was a little happy about this because they had some great techniques, but he was insulted with how they were treating his creative vision. He began shouting stage directions and narration from the back of the room.

"Jim!" he screamed. "Be verklempt!" He put on an exaggerated New York accent and added, "SNL. Coffee Talk. It's like buttah."

Jim rolled his eyes, gripped the plastic sword tightly and had to fight the impulse to run from the room. He ignored all the eyes - her eyes - on him and focused on Abby as she gave the performance of her life, complete with expressive hand motions. He wouldn't think about Pam. He told himself he didn't care. He didn't care why she was in Scranton, didn't care why she was in Dunder-Mufflin, didn't care that she hadn't taken her eyes off him throughout the play.

Abby did classic jazz hands and said her line. "It's midnight!"

"Yes, so it is." Jim shrugged.

"Good-byeeee," Abby said, dragging out the vowel sounds.

"Good-bye?" Jim said. His voice was strained and quiet. "But you can't go now."

"But I must," Abby said. In a sudden bout of inspiration, she pierotted out of the room and cut the scene short.

Michael sighed loudly from the back of the room.

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.

After the play was over, Jim slipped away to the break room while everyone else returned to their desks.

Abby was in the room, jingling the change in her pocket and staring blankly at the vending machine. The box of mice was sitting on one of the tables.

Jim set the construction paper crown on Abby's head and sat down. "I don't know if I've ever felt so stupid."

"Well, you've been working here a pretty long time," Abby replied, "so I'm sure you have. But if not, Michael is making me take notes on 101 Dalmatians, so you'll have another chance to be completely embarrassed. I think he's going to try to sell tickets and everything. I'm pretty sure I heard him say 'dinner theater.'"

"That is just not funny," Jim said. He thought for a moment then smiled. "You know, I might be okay with it if Dwight was Cruella."

Abby smiled and opened the box with the mice in it.

The door to the break room opened and Pam stepped tentatively into the room. Jim's shoulders tensed and he suddenly became very interested in studying the surface of the table.

"Hey," she said quietly.

Jim didn't reply and a silence fell upon the room.

Finally, Abby cleared her throat. "Wow, you know, I thought that would be awkward. I was totally wrong about that though, huh? And, as much as I would love to stick around, cause this is, wow, so much fun - I really have to get back in there because now there's only one mouse in this box."

Abby picked up the box and walked to the door, but stopped and turned around. She reached out and shook Pam's hand. "I'm Abby, by the way. You're Pam, right? Michael's got a great picture of you in his office."

After Abby left the room, Pam turned to Jim and cocked an eyebrow.

"She's a good kid," Jim explained and shrugged. "A little, uh, free-spirited but a good kid. Plus, she has Dwight convinced that she's a time traveler, so that's -"

"Jim, please," Pam interrupted softly. "You don't have to do that. Can we just talk?"

"You've already heard everything I had to say," Jim said. He rose to his feet. "And you've already said everything I needed to hear. You made the decision for both of us. After all that's happened, I just... can't. Not anymore. After that last night in California, I gave up. Anyway, it's self-preservation, so. Sorry. I, uh, have to get some work done."

She nodded and he left the break room.

Jim sat at his desk, began working on his computer and tried to ignore the fact that everyone was staring at him. Through the corner of his eye he saw Pam walk past him and stop at the reception desk. He ignored her as she waved good-bye to everyone and left the office.

A few minutes later Abby was standing at his desk with her arms crossed.

"No offense, but I just spent the last half hour humiliating myself and I don't have the energy," Jim said.

"I know I don't know everything," Abby said, her voice uncharacteristically serious, "and, hey, it's definitely none of my business, but I mean - I just think... how can I put this gently?" She paused. "Don't be an idiot."

She set a Post-It note down on his keyboard. "You know, she's prettier in person than in those pictures you showed me. Just saying."

After Abby walked back to her desk, Jim looked down at the Post-It note.

I miss you every day.

555-0101.

Love,
Pam

He stared at it for a long while before crumpling it up and throwing it in the trash.

His phone rang and he answered it, his voice emotionless, "Dunder-Mifflin, this is Jim."

Abby sighed heavily on the other end of the line. She said, "Don't be an idiot" and hung up.

Jim turned to look at her. He wasn't sure how someone could be so young, so annoying and so right at the same time. When she got up and went to the copier, he pulled the Post-It from the trash and slipped it in his pocket.

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.

The Post-It note had been burning a hole in Jim's pocket for nine days.

He took it out every night to look at, to see if there was something hidden in the penmanship, and every night he came up with nothing and thought about throwing it away again. Every morning he put it back in his pocket because Jim Halpert just wasn't a man who could give up on hope.

Last night he had been close to calling. He had the phone in his hand, had dialed all the way to the last digit, but hung up before he could finish. He had been so determined to get over Pam, so why did her visiting Scranton change that? She hadn't come for him. She had probably come to visit family and had spoken to Phyllis as a courtesy and then taken Phyllis up on her invitation to the play as another courtesy. It had nothing to do with him. A woman who was trying to make her marriage work wouldn't fly across the country just for some dope who was carrying the brightest torch for her.

He put the Post-It note on his night stand and hoped he wouldn't be in love in the morning.

Unfortunately, he woke up still in love with Pam Beesly. He sighed and put the Post-It note in his pocket, where it would mingle with lint and spare change for another day.

When he got to the office, he was grateful that Abby seemed to have given up on trying to talk sense into him. She just smiled, gave him his mail and told him to prepare to lose another game of tic-tac-toe.

He went into the kitchen to put his lunch in the refrigerator and make a cup of coffee. While he was waiting for it to brew, Abby came into the room carrying a textbook.

She opened the textbook and set it on the counter. She flipped through the pages and said casually, "So, Pam is back in Scranton for good, huh?"

"What?" Jim asked casually. He eyed the girl warily. She was good - almost too good. He made a mental note to kill her psychology professor. "Where'd you hear that?"

"I spend almost all of my lunch breaks with Kelly and Phyllis," Abby said and looked up from her textbook. "Between the two of them, I know everything that goes on or went on in this office. I'm just wondering - will Pam want her job back?"

"I don't think so," Jim said. "She's moved on."

"Hmm," Abby mumbled. She flipped through more pages in her textbook. "Well, if she's moved on, why would she come back to Scranton, right? And why would she tell Phyllis over lunch that she was going to house-sit for her aunt for the rest of the year? Shouldn't she be in California, doing whatever it is one does when they've moved on? I guess it just seems curious. I mean, if she's not back for this glamorous job... whatever could she be back for?"

"There's probably nothing for you to get excited about," Jim said. "She made it painfully clear in the past that she's not interested in your job."

Abby sighed and turned the page. "You're probably right. She's probably making tons of money selling scrap gold, 'cause Phyllis said she's not wearing her wedding ring anymore."

"Well, that doesn't... I mean, it's just weird," Jim said. He hoped he sounded noncommittal, but he knew that by this point Abby knew him better than that. "She was really committed to that marriage. Just doesn't make sense, is all."

"Sometimes," Abby said and looked up from her textbook, "even things that don't make sense... make sense. I mean, there's a reason for everything, isn't there? Like, freshman year I didn't get into the bio class I wanted and that sucked. The only class that fit into my schedule after that was Psych 101 and it turned out that I loved it. Changed my major because of that class. It was supposed to happen that way, you know? What's that quote? 'Sometimes good things fall apart so that better things can fall together.'"

Jim nodded and went to the door. He stopped and turned around. "Hey, Abby, thanks. That was pretty good, I give you credit... except that the book you're pretending to read is upside down." He smiled to himself and went to Michael's office.

"Slim Jim!" Michael said when Jim entered the office. "What can I do ya for, buddy?"

"Actually, I'm... I'm not feeling so well," Jim said. "I think I'm coming down with something. I thought I'd be okay to come to work, but I don't think I'm gonna be able to make it through the day."

"Oh, God," Michael said. His face sunk. "Are you okay? Do you need a doctor? I will take you to the hospital. I know a guy. Or I could take care of you, huh? Sit on your couch, nap, eat soup, order some 'za if your tummy can handle it - we'd have a great time."

"No, no... no," Jim replied. "I think what I need is to just go home and go to bed. I'm sure it's just a 24 hour thing. No need for you to come anywhere near my house."

Michael nodded. "Okay, Jim Beam, whatever you say. Take the day off. Feel better."

"Thanks."

Jim left Michael's office and collected his things. He took his jacket off the coat rack and slipped it on.

Abby sat at the reception desk, pretending to be very interested in what was on her computer screen. Jim slapped his hand lightly on the desk and she looked over.

"Hey," he said, "you're good. If you don't get that diploma, it's a crime, okay? A crime."

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.

After throwing on an old Marywood University sweatshirt and putting a bandana in her hair, Pam went around the house and opened all the windows. The unseasonably warm weather was fading fast and she wanted to take advantage of the last of it while she still could. Cleaning was a lot nicer with a fresh breeze rolling lazily through the house.

She switched on the radio and sprayed some furniture polish onto a rag.

Cyndi Lauper floated from the stereo speakers and Pam danced as she wiped down the dining room table. There was something calming about cleaning. As she wiped dust from the table, she was wiping insecurity and doubt from her mind. In that moment, all that mattered in her life was Lemon Pledge and the fact that girls just want to have fun.

As Magic 93 cycled through all the music Pam loved (and some she would never admit to loving), she made her way through the rooms downstairs, cleaning like there was no tomorrow. She was singing along to Stevie Nicks and dusting off a shelf of knick-knacks when the doorbell rang. She stuffed the rag she was using into her pocket and went to the door.

She was expecting to find her aunt's next door neighbor at the door; he usually popped by around this time to complain about her aunt's landscaping. Instead of a crotchety old man, Pam found herself looking at a very amiable young man.

Her breath caught in her throat and for a moment she wondered if the Lemon Pledge had managed to go to her head. "Jim?"

Jim scratched the back of his neck and smiled awkwardly. "Yeah. Hi. I, uh, looked up the address with the phone number you gave me. Google can, uh, do anything."

Pam nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think it tested me for diabetes this morning when I was trying to look up knitting patterns."

"You knit?"

"Oh, yeah," Pam said. "Phyllis is teaching me. I decided my goal for the winter is to make a scarf for myself. Anything to keep myself busy. I'm kind of unemployed."

"Right, yeah, because... yeah," Jim said. He cleared his throat. "So... I - I hope it's okay that I came by. After - I mean... I just don't want things to be weird between us."

"Yeah, no," Pam said. "Totally cool. Totally fine. It's totally... hey, whatever, you know? No big thing. No... no big deal. So, hey, you wanna come in? I don't really have much to offer right now, but I can get you juice or something."

"No, I'm fine," Jim said. He stepped into the house and looked around. "Nice place. Your aunt's, right?"

"Yeah." Pam closed the door and took a deep breath. "I need a drink. My throat is just... dry."

She walked into the kitchen with Jim following. He leaned against the counter as she pulled a container of orange juice from the fridge and poured herself a glass.

"Pre-spring cleaning?" Jim asked and smiled.

Pam took a long drink and nodded. "My aunt's going to Florida for the rest of the year and she's letting me stay here free of charge, so I told her I'd do the cleaning. I think it's relaxing, anyway. Out with the old and... well, it's not really in with the new, but you know what I mean. A fresh start is just nice."

"Yeah," Jim said quietly. "So... a fresh start, huh? Are you and Roy...?"

"Separated," she said. "Legally. And, uh, moving forward with that. I stayed with Maddie for a week then decided I knew what I wanted to do, so... here I am, in Scranton."

He watched Pam drink her orange juice and the only thing he could picture in his mind was the way her curls fell in her face that last night in the bungalow. He tried to sweep the memory from his mind - he was here to make peace as a friend, nothing more. Just friends. Jim and Pam, just friends - just what she had wanted in the first place, right?

"You're not scared in a big place like this? All on your own?" he asked.

"It's a safe neighborhood," she said and shrugged. "I used to stay here a lot when I was a kid, so I guess that helps. I'd probably be afraid if it was just me in a new place by myself, but I guess that's something I have to get used to, right? I'm Independent Beesly now. Hear me roar."

She took another long drink and hoped it would wash down the awkwardness.

Jim licked his lips. "Yeah, I guess. But, hey, I guess you save money on the grocery bill, right?"

"Yep," Pam replied. She sighed. "I can't do this."

Jim asked, "Do what?" even though he knew exactly what she meant.

"I can't pretend this isn't..." she stopped to collect her thoughts. She looked into his eyes and he saw thousands of thoughts and emotions racing in her pupils, jockeying for position. "I can't pretend that we don't have to talk about what happened. I can't pretend that things are normal between us, because they're not. We're not the same and we can't go back to how things were before. It doesn't work that way."

He looked away. "I don't... know what to say. Words haven't done me any good so far."

"Okay," she said quietly. "Then, just... I'm sorry."

"For what?" Jim asked carefully.

"Well, I just... I'm apologizing in advance," she said and set the glass down.

Before he could ask just what the hell she was talking about, Pam walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She balanced on her tip-toes and kissed him softly. He kissed back cautiously, unsure if this was what he wanted. Well, yeah, he wanted it, but he didn't want to play the are-we-aren't-we game anymore and this all seemed like another big step in that direction. Before he could decide if he would push her away or pull her closer, Pam gently pulled away.

Her hands were still around his waist and she stared up into his eyes. Her voice was small. "I can't. I can't just be friends with you. Just one last time, that's all I wanted. I'm sorry if I hurt you before because now I know how it feels and... well, I'm sorry. I guess nothing matters anymore. I screwed up and I lost my chance and that's fair. You're moving on and maybe I will too. Maybe I'll move to Florida with my aunt, maybe I'll go back to California and live with Maddie. I don't know. And I think that's okay. It's okay that I don't know. For once maybe I'll take a risk and actually do what I want and not what I think other people need me to do. I needed one more day with you, one more kiss. I'm just a stupid girl who broke your heart, Jim, and I understand if that's how you'll remember me. Just... I'm sorry."

Pam stepped away from him. "And I wanted to say thank you. That week in California... you made me realize I didn't want to be with Roy. I shouldn't have been with him. Spending that week with you, I realized a lot of things... but that was the most important. Even if you hate me or you never speak to me again, I'll always be grateful for that. And... no matter how stupid it sounds, you'll always be my best friend."

She shrugged her shoulders and walked out the back door.

Jim put a hand over his mouth and exhaled deeply through his nose. He could walk out the front door and move on, forget about all the heartbreak and missed opportunities and maybe find someone new, someone who would want him from the start. Or he could walk out the back door and take another chance on someone who he had wanted from the start.

He remembered his first day at Dunder-Mifflin, remembered falling in love on the spot with the receptionist as she led him to his desk. He was different back then, ambivalent and apathetic when it came to... well, almost everything. Except her.

She had been the only thing he had been sure about. It took her moving across the country for him to realize he was wasting his life selling paper. It had become his career. While she was spending afternoons at the beach and selling antiques to tourists, he was still calling the same companies and selling them the same amounts of the same paper. Sunrise, sunset. Apathy led to agitation. But while she crushed him, she inspired him. He had started applying at other places and had even put his resume online. He wouldn't be left in the dust, not this time.

His head told him to leave now through the front door, forget about everything that had happened before. Why was he willing to put himself on the line again? Because the third time's the charm? Did he believe in fairy tales like that anymore, where the good guy always got the girl? He had been so determined to get over her, why should the fact that she wasn't wearing a ring matter?

He had gotten an apology, and wasn't that enough?

The broken pieces of his heart told him that no, it wasn't.

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.

The faded green screen door slammed with a creak behind Jim as he stepped out onto the back porch. Pam was standing near the back stairs with her arms wrapped around herself. She looked so much smaller than he ever remembered.

He stood next to her and put his hands in his pockets.

"I can't believe all the snow melted," he said quietly. "I'm sure we'll get more before the month's over. It hasn't -"

"Don't," she whispered. "Please, don't."

He nodded even though he was sure she wasn't looking at him. He looked up at the sky. "It's just... I mean, well, you hurt me so badly, you know? I used to feel stupid admitting that. I couldn't talk to anyone about it for the longest, longest time. After California... I just couldn't keep it inside anymore. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. I was just... well, I was just. That's the problem. I was nothing. You destroyed me. Just utterly demolished me and I guess part of the problem was that I let you. I was disappointed in a part of myself, the part that allowed me to be in love with you when you clearly didn't feel the same way. You crushed me - more than once, and it just seemed so easy for you. I -"

"You think it was easy?" Pam interrupted. She wiped at her eyes to keep the tears from falling and turned to face him. Her voice was fierce as she continued, "You think waking up next to him every morning and wishing he was someone else was easy? You think it was easy to walk down the aisle knowing that I was making a mistake? I've lived in obligation for ten years and in guilt for two and a half, and you think that's easy? Jim, do you know what's worse than having a fiancé and being in love with another man?"

Jim couldn't speak. His jaw clenched and he had to fight the impulse to reach out to her. He simply shook his head.

When she replied, the anger had left her voice and tears welled visibly at the corners of her eyes. "Having a husband and being in love with another man."

She continued, "Reading another man's letters at the breakfast table he built, hiding them under the newspaper when he walks into the room and biting my bottom lip because God I'm sure he saw this time and he's going to ask questions... but he never does, he never sees. He kisses my cheek and goes to work and I take that stack of letters from another man and I sit on the porch with a cup of tea and re-read them all afternoon... can you imagine that?"

Jim opened his mouth to speak, but she put her index finger on his lips to silence him.

"Is it easy to stay in a relationship just because you feel so guilty for not being in love? Is it easy to think in terms of obligation instead of love?" she said. "For every time you've missed me, I've missed you, okay? For every sleepless night you've had, I've been awake too. Misery loves company, Jim, and it doesn't matter if two people are miserable on opposite sides of the country... but I'm sick of being miserable. I want to be happy, Jim. I want love... and I want you."

She stared down at her shoes and wrung her hands. "Sometimes I worry they're mutually exclusive."

His throat was scratchy and he felt like screaming. He was convinced there wasn't enough space in the universe to hold the emotions waiting to burst through his chest. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself.

"They're not," he replied.

He reached out and gingerly put his hands on her hips. He looked down into her eyes and laughed nervously. "I, uh... well, the last two times I did this, it didn't turn out so well, so I'm a little skittish, Beesly."

She smiled widely and said softly, "I won't pull away this time."

He leaned down to kiss her and paused. He could see the fear in her eyes, like he was going to jump back and yell "Gotcha! How's it feel?" He shook his head slowly and brought his thumb up to her face to gently wipe away her tears.

He pressed his forehead to hers, smiled and whispered, "Hey, no crying, okay? I'm making that a rule."

"Shut up," she laughed and pressed her lips to his.

It wasn't like before. He thought it was strange that all he could manage to think was how different it was, but somehow it seemed to fit. Like them. They fit. They were a puzzle and somehow some pieces had been lost, but together they had managed to find them and patch together the crazy little picture that was them.

He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. "So, you got any big plans for the rest of the year? Gonna bum around Europe and find yourself?"

"Actually," she said and looked up at him, "I'm gonna enroll in some classes and get a divorce, so... that's gonna be fun, I think."

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.

Pam's divorce had been about as much fun as she expected it would be. Her marriage had been declared "irretrievably broken" and her overpriced lawyer hammered the details out with Roy's overpriced lawyer. She found out the hard way that half of not-a-hell-of-a-lot wasn't going to get her through the rest of the year, so she took a job at a vintage store. It was nothing compared to the antique shop, but it paid the bills and the schedule was flexible. She threw herself into her graphic design classes and focused on her relationship with Jim.

They had done a lot of talking and healing in their first few months together. The first real milestone had been the night she received the divorce papers from her lawyer.

Her lawyer's assistant had dropped the papers off in the middle of dinner. Pam ran her hand over the manilla envelope and could almost feel her entire future radiating from inside.

After dinner was over and the table was cleared, Pam set the envelope on the table and stared at it.

"What's that?" Jim asked.

"The papers," she answered. "All ready for me to sign."

Jim slid into the seat next to her. "What's the matter?"

"It's just..." She looked up at him. "There's ten years of my life in this envelope. It's a little surreal. Don't get me wrong, I want to sign them. I want to officially start this new chapter, this new book with you, but... it's still weird. Ten years. Wasted. Boiled down to a stack of paper and a couple signatures."

"It's hard to throw away a decade of memories," Jim agreed.

Pam tore open the envelope. "I guess. I suppose I won't be throwing them away, though. Maybe I needed to be with Roy. Maybe in some strange way he helped me become who I am. I was definitely a different person in high school before we started dating. All that I went through with him, good and bad, it made me somebody. Sometimes I didn't like that somebody, that person I was, but... well, she brought me to you. It just took a year or so more than it should have."

She flipped through the papers, stopping at all the places her lawyer had tabbed. She signed slowly, wanting to make it really count. She felt like there should be a bigger ceremony for something like this, like she should be in a court room surrounded by her family and news cameras. It's a big deal and it hurts, but she wants to remember it. She wants to remember the moment she became new.

After she signed on the very last dotted line, she set down her pen and smiled warmly. She looked up at Jim and said, "Well, it's official. I just lost half my stuff."

"Yeah, but you gained a little something, too," Jim said.

"So," she asked playfully, "how does it feel to be dating a divorcée?"

Jim rubbed his chin and pretended to think it over. "Not as scandalous as I thought it would be, so... a little disappointing. I guess you're lucky that your divorcée status isn't the reason I'm with you."

Pam slid the papers back into the manilla envelope and took a deep breath. "Can I ask you something?"

"Well, you just did, but I'll give you another one," he replied, smiling warmly. "Shoot."

She took another deep breath and shifted in her chair. She played with her necklace and asked softly, "Why are you with me?"

"You were worth the wait," he said and took her hand. "And as a wise woman once said, there's no going back once you've found the one."

"Jim," she replied, "you were the first to say this and I've felt it for a long time, and I think it's time I said it back... I love you."

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.

August rolled in lazily, bringing more warm weather and final exams. Pam made a study date with Abby every Wednesday night at the Northern Lights Espresso Bar because she needed someone to commiserate with. Jim was good at listening, but it was nice to have someone to talk to who claimed all her best friends were textbooks.

On a particularly muggy Wednesday evening, Jim strolled into the cafe while they were knee-deep in notes.

"How's it going here?" he asked and dropped into a seat near Pam.

"Our brains are officially some sort of mushy substance resembling Silly Putty," Abby replied.

"Sounds serious," Jim said. He crumpled his face up into what he hoped was a concerned, studious look. "What are we studying tonight?"

"I'm working on Behavioral Sciences and Bees is studying stuff for Typography," Abby answered.

Jim cocked an eyebrow. "Bees?"

Abby shrugged. "Something I'm trying out. Still in the testing stages."

"Personally," Pam said, "I enjoyed Killer Bees. It made me feel like a badass."

Jim smirked. "Okay, so you want that stitched on a leather jacket, or...?"

"The Hell's Angels have been calling pretty regularly," Pam said, "so, it'd probably be a good investment."

"If we're taking a break for jokey jokes," Abby said, "I'm gonna get another coffee. I am not caffeinated enough for witty repartee. Excuse me."

Abby hopped off the sofa and went to go stand in line.

"So," Jim asked, "how's it going? You're gonna ace this test, right?"

"I think so," Pam said. She put her pen behind her ear and sat back. She eyed Jim carefully. "Now, I know you didn't come here to chit-chat about our finals. It's not exactly breaking news or, for that matter, in the least bit interesting."

"You know me too well," he said. He dragged his chair closer to her and put his hand on her knee. He couldn't stop from smiling. "I heard back from that newspaper in Philly."

Pam's face lit up and she leaped into Jim's lap. "You got it? You got the sales job? I knew you would get it! I told you! I told you!"

Jim laughed and wrapped his arms around Pam's waist as she settled into his lap. "Yeah. I haven't accepted it yet, but it's a great offer. I'd be doing sales, yeah, but my friend thinks I might be able to work out some sort of internship with the sports department. I won't get paid for that and it'll be a lot of grunt work, but I'm willing to try. If nothing else, it'd get me out of Dunder-Mufflin."

"That's great," Pam said. She leaned in to kiss him, but paused and pulled pack. "Wait. You haven't accepted the offer yet?"

"No."

"Why not?" Pam said. She put her arms around his neck. "This is what you wanted. You would be doing something you care about - more than selling paper, anyway. Why wouldn't you say yes right away?"

"There's something I care more about," Jim told her. He kissed her forehead.

"Not because of me," she said. "You didn't give this up because of me?"

"I didn't give it up," Jim said. "The offer is still on the table. I just - well, you still have another year of classes up here and I didn't... I didn't want to move down there without you. I mean, I thought we could... Well, this isn't really going how I planned."

"Are you... Are you trying to ask me to move to Philadelphia with you?"

"I think I might be," Jim said. The corner of his mouth quirked up. "It, uh, didn't happen exactly as I planned. I wanted it to be more of a direct question, you know, with a whole set-up, a candlelight dinner and a beautifully worded speech. It was very romantic."

"I'll bet," she said warmly.

"Anyway, I know you said you wouldn't move in with someone unless you were engaged," Jim said. He pulled a small white box from his pocket. "But I was hoping you might make an exception."

He smiled and lifted the cover off the box to reveal a silver ring with a large oval diamond in the center. "Now, hear me out before you totally shoot me down on this, okay? This ring is a promise, one that won't be broken. It would be incredibly lame to propose while you're doing homework - I know that - so what I'm saying is... if you come to Philadelphia with me, you'll get the proposal you deserve. I want everything about it to be perfect. Dwight overheard me talking to Maddie on the phone and suggested I propose in front of the Rocky statue as a metaphor for my dedication to you. I think I'm going to go another route, unless you're really attached to that idea."

"I don't want you to give up your dream," he continued. "You've been working so hard this whole semester, so at any point now you can tell me to shut up and stop embarrassing myself. I'll understand if you want to finish school and then decide if this is what you want."

"Jim... you're what I want," she said and held out her hand. When Jim slipped the ring on her finger, she smiled and stared down at it. "I can transfer to a school in Philadelphia. All the work we've done won't go to waste. There's no reason we can't make this work for the both of us. But, I think you should know that you've really set yourself up here. You better kick my ass with the proposal."

Jim grinned. "Trust me, your ass will be thoroughly kicked."

"Good! I'm gonna start looking up schools tonight," she said excitedly.

"I'll call the paper back tomorrow," he said. He let out a relieved sigh. "So, I guess we figured this out."

"I guess we did," Pam said. "Only, I have one question. When are you gonna kiss me? 'Cause I've been waiting for like five min -"

Jim pressed his forehead to hers and mumbled, "I love you, Killer Bees."

Three weeks later, Jim and Pam had their last day in Scranton, something they'd been talking about for years, but nobody thought would ever come true. They held hands on the drive down to Philadelphia, happy to prove them all wrong.