Everyone in the office was crowded into a group of three tables at Farley's Restaurant. Balloons were tied around the backs of the chairs and confetti was scattered on the tables. Michael stood up at the front of the group. He clinked a glass of water. "Attencion, everyone, attencion --- as you all may know, our dear friend and coworker, Jim Halpert, is leaving after today."

The group collectively groaned, as if on cue. All except for Dwight, who sat on the side with a smug smile on his face, and Angela, wearing her usual sour expression.

"Anyway, because he's been so important to us, we are giving him this going-away lunch at Farley's!" Everyone clapped tepidly. "Just a couple things before we order: um, don't order anything more expensive than seven dollars ... and, no alcohol, because the company won't pay for it." Michael looked at the camera and grinned. "Not because I'm a wet blanket - if it was my choice, we'd have a liquid lunch once a week, ha. I'm sure it'd increase productivity."

"I like that idea," Meredith said. She already had a mixed drink in front of her. She'd stopped at the bar before sitting down.

"I don't agree with that, Michael," Toby said.

"Oh, pish-posh, wet blanket!"

"No, I mean, it's against corporate regulations for employees to consume alcohol during work hours, and as the HR representative, I can't allow--"

"Toby. Jim Halpert, our top salesman--"

"Actually, I was the top salesman for all of Dunder-Mifflin," Dwight interrupted.

Michael snorted. "Yeah, maybe in sales numbers, but who looks at those?"

"Anyone who's interested in making commission," Stanley put in. "We are in the business of making money, Michael. Which we're not exactly doing right now by having lunch at Farley's."

"Money -- well, yeah, of course, but what I'm talking about is more important than money. I'm talking about sales character. Personality. These qualities may not be valued in dollars ..." Michael continued to blather on.

Jim looked at the camera, which had turned its attention away from Michael. "I'm not really sure whether to be insulted or flattered," Jim said. "Either way, I suppose, it's a free lunch." He shrugged, and turned back to face Michael, who was still talking.

"... Because laughter really is the best medicine, and few brought that to the table as often as Jim. In these stressful times of downsizing and budgets and other icky stuff, we need to laugh..."

"On second thought," Jim said, making a face, "I think I'm going to get a drink." He leaned over to Pam, who was sitting at his left. "You want a drink?"

"A drink-drink?" Her eyes went wide.

Jim gestured towards Michael. "What else? I know I'm going to need it."

"Yeah - just get me whatever you're getting." She looked over at Michael, who was in the midst of telling a very offensive joke. "Double."

Jim headed towards the bar while the rest of the staff settled in to watch the inevitable train wreck. "So the horse went, 'Well, that's what she said!" Michael guffawed loudly. "Get it? That's what she said?"

"Yeah, Michael, we got it," Meredith said, sucking the last bit of drink out of her glass. It made a loud slurping noise that caused everyone to look at her. "What?" she asked.

"Well, anyway, speaking of our favorite salesman -- hey, where did Jim go?" Everyone turned and looked at the bar, where Jim was paying for the two drinks he'd ordered. He turned around to see everyone staring at him. "What?" he said.

"Aw, what the hell -- it's not everyday you have to say goodbye to your top salesman..." Michael said.

"I'm your top salesman, Michael," Dwight said, perturbed. "I sold 25 percent more product than Jim and I won the Salesman of the Year Award; I don't see why--"

"Shut up, Dwight. We're trying to have a good time here," Michael scowled. "Waitress!"

A girl with a nametag that said "Sharie" came over. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"Yes, Sharie - lovely name, by the way." Michael gestured at Jim, who was sitting down and had already finished half of the double vodka-cranberry he'd ordered. "My employee here, Jim - is leaving us. And, we at Dunder-Mifflin do not believe in sorrowful goodbyes. We would like to celebrate what will be the new beginning of a great career for him."

Sharie nodded.

"And celebrations call for drinks. I'll like to order a round of drinks for everyone here! Salud!"

Toby stood up. "Michael, corporate will not pay for any alcohol. We're not even supposed to be drinking right now. We shouldn't even be outside the --"

"Toby, I am so sick of you and your stupid HR-corporate fag rules..." Michael stopped himself when he caught Pam staring at him in shock.

Oscar also stood up, glaring at Michael.

"I mean, corporate hag rules, you know - this is not about rules. It's about what feels good. It's about camaraderie. It's about seeing a friend off..."

"That's fine, but corporate's still not going to pay for it," Toby said.

"You ... are not dating the district manager, Jan Levinson-formally-Gould." Michael smiled crookedly at the camera. "Jan and I have an understanding. Plus, she's the one that offered Jim the position. I'm sure it won't be a problem."

Sharie, the waitress, shifted uncomfortably on her feet. "Did you want to order some drinks, then?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, yes. Everyone - order whatever you want. Doin' it for Jim!" Michael clapped loudly. "I'll start - please give me.... a vodka-tonic."

Sharie went around the tables and ordered drinks for everyone. Jim ordered another double-round for himself and Pam, who, like him, had already finished her first drink.

Pam looked up at Jim, smiling. "Man," she said. "These drinks go down quickly."

"Yeah, drinks go fast when you're having fun." Jim glanced at the camera and gave a half-smile. He turned back to Pam. He was so glad that they were actually hanging out together on his last day there. He was worried she would be too afraid to talk to him, knowing that he was leaving. He was trying not to think about the fact that she would be married when he got back. That's why he was transferring to Stamford. To start over.

For now, all he wanted to do was enjoy the last afternoon he was probably ever going to spend with her. And pretend that everything was okay, for just a couple more hours...

---

An hour-and-a-half and three more double drinks later, Jim was feeling extremely tipsy and Pam was edging ever closer to 'Dundies-drunk,' Jim's nickname for the level of drunkenness Pam had reached at last year's Dundie Awards. (It was otherwise known as the "Infamous Chili's Incident." Because of it, she was no longer allowed in Chili's, which Michael always seemed to forget. Chili's was Michael's favorite restaurant. He said it 'made him lucky,' whatever that meant.)

Her giggling was out of control, and she leaned into him.

Jim grinned at the camera as he continued telling the story: "So, yeah - all afternoon, Dwight kept asking, 'Where's my potato gun? Where's my potato gun? You're not licensed to use that! Do you have a FOID card?'" He started laughing hysterically, grabbing onto Pam as she rolled in laughter as well.

Across the way, Dwight was in what appeared to be very deep conversation with Angela, who, every so often, looked over at Jim and Pam very suspiciously.

Out of sight to the guests, who had started to become rowdy enough to not notice where the film crew was slinking about, the camera zoomed in on Dwight and Angela's feet, intertwined, under the table.

---

Pam had sauntered off to the bathroom (her fourth trip so far). On the way out, Jeff, who wanted to film a short segment before she went back to the table, stopped her.

"Oh, yeah, I'm having a great time," Pam said. Her words were starting to slur. She leaned up against the wall for support. "I really, really, really can't believe Jim's leaving me. I mean, I know he loves me." She bit the inside of her cheek. "I guess I kind of love him, too. I wish I didn't have to marry Roy sometimes."

"Isn't that still your choice? You don't have to do it."

"My choisch?" she slurred. "We've been together ten years -- ten years -- you can't give up on that kind of commitment! You have to stick with it!" She paused for a moment, as if trying to figure out what to say next. "It's just -- I mean, I waited over three years just to get a date set! And... it's Roy, I mean, Roy, he's just... you know. He's always been my boyfriend, now fiancé."

"Yeah?"

Pam must have sensed skepticism. "I mean, of course I want to marry Roy!" she practically yelled. At that moment, the room became practically silent and everyone turned in her direction. Pam looked up and saw everyone looking at her. She started blushing furiously before ducking back into the bathroom again. Why? she thought. Why did these things always happen to her? She was never going to drink again. And why was everyone always questioning her choices?

Back at the table, Jim had seen the entire outburst. He saw Jeff's camera turn right towards him. He knew he was in the midst of what was-to-become an embarrassing close-up. Do not break, Halpert. Do not break. Be strong, he thought to himself. His mother was going to be watching this someday.

That thought suddenly made him wince, and he got up. "I think I need some fresh air," he said to Ryan. Ryan shrugged as Jim quickly shuffled out of the restaurant into the stifling hot June air. Not exactly the refreshing sensation he was looking for.

---

"What did Pam say back there?" Jim asked as Jeff came out to the parking lot, camera on shoulder.

Jeff didn't respond.

"Yeah, I know. You can't say." He shrugged. "I suppose it's not your fault." Jim sat down on the front step, his chin in his hands. "Sometimes I don't know what I was thinking, falling in love with a girl who was engaged. For as long as I've known her, she's been with Roy. She was never, ever available. But somehow, I harbored this delusion that she might, somewhere along the line, change her mind. That she'd see me for who I really am. That maybe she'd fall in love with me and leave Roy."

Behind the camera, Jeff raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"I don't know who I was kidding. Maybe I should just go now."

"I think we should probably call you a taxi if you're going to leave," Jeff said. "You can't drive." He put the camera down for a second to take a look at Jim. He looked like a wreck. Jim had run his hands through his hair and now it was sticking straight up and every which way. His eyes were bloodshot and his happy expression from earlier had turned to despair. He rubbed his eyes, and struggled to stand up. Jim felt himself starting to lean involuntarily; he grabbed the nearest post and fell against it.

"Man, I'm messed up," Jim said to himself.

"Jim, why don't you wait here? Sit down. We'll figure out how to get you out of here."

Jim nodded and plopped himself on the curb. It was kind of nice to just sit out there and get a bit of peace and quiet. No Michael. No Dwight. No Pam. No cameras. I could get used to this, he thought. He was going to have to get used to this. His life in the (embarrassing) spotlight was about to end. Once he transferred to Stamford, he wasn't going to have the camera crew around. No more stupid Michael jokes. No more pranks to pull on Dwight. No more Pam...

Suddenly, he wondered if he really was making the right decision. It was more money salary-wise, even though moving to Stamford was going to cost him more initially since he'd have to get a place of his own. The housing there was a little more expensive, too. But honestly, sitting around Scranton pining for a (soon-to-be) married woman certainly wasn't getting him anywhere. Ever since the Booze Cruise - when Roy had announced the wedding date - every day at work seemed like it was etching a deeper wound in his heart. Kissing Pam on the Casino Night was just a last-ditch effort to try and repair that wound. A horrible, awful, failure of an effort. If anything, it had only made things worse. Just seeing her, knowing that she wasn't ever going to be his - it made his heart ache so much he could barely stand it. It was consuming his mind.

"Damn it, Halpert. How did you become such a miserable failure at life?" he muttered to himself.

He didn't notice the front door of the restaurant opening. Pam peeked out the door, and upon seeing Jim, she ran clumsily over to his side. She practically fell trying to sit down. Those pencil skirts she wore didn't make it easy to sit on the ground, let alone sit gracefully. He reached out for her waist to catch her without thinking about it, and helped her sit.

"I heard that, Jim," she said, reaching her arm around his shoulder. "You're not a failure."

Why are you doing this? he thought to himself.

Because this was the last time he was ever going to see her. All he wanted to do was take her into his arms and hold her forever. Don't ever let go.

"I am," he said, looking at her. His face was wet. "All I ever wanted was you. And I knew I couldn't have it. And I asked anyway. And..." His head fell into his hands, his chest shaking. "I'm so sorry, Pam. Please don't be mad at me. Please don't hate me."

"Jim," she said, gently rubbing at the nape of his neck. He immediately wiped his face, and sniffed. "I want you to know that I will never hate you. You are my best friend. And," she sighed heavily, "like I said before -- you have no idea what your friendship means to me."

"But -- why? Why not me? I overheard part of your conversation in the office -- that night -- you were talking to your mom--" Jim wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the fact that this was the last time he might see her, but he felt unusually frank with her. He had never told her he heard part of that conversation she'd had with her mom. 'I think I am...' What did that mean, anyway?

She squared his shoulders, pushing him away from her to give them space. "It's complicated, Jim ... I told you that."

"Why, Pam? Is it because you're afraid of change? Is that why you wouldn't take the internship? Is that why you let Roy go almost four years without setting a date?"

She looked at him, surprised, her eyes flitting back and forth, up and down. "What the hell do you know?" she asked. She felt angry and hurt, and she stood up quickly, but almost fell right back down again because she was still tipsy.

"What do I know?" Jim asked, who had finally had enough. "I know that Michael told me that Roy said your first engagement didn't even count."

Pam looked shocked. She couldn't believe he would say something like that. She slapped him. Hard. Hard enough to leave a red mark across his cheek.

"You know nothing about Roy and you know nothing about me, Jim Halpert. I thought you were my friend."

"I am your friend, Pam," he said, stepping forward, so close that he was looking straight down at her face. He winced in pain. "I don't want you to end up making the biggest mistake of your life."

"Let me be the judge of that," she snapped, shoving him backwards. "Have a nice trip."

With that, she opened the door to the restaurant and slammed it behind her, sending a gust of wind into his face.

Jim sighed loudly. "That could not have gone worse," he said aloud to himself.

Just then, he noticed Jeff was standing in the corner of the porch of the restaurant. He had probably been there the entire time Pam and he had been talking.

Jim looked right at the camera. "Fuck you, too," he said, and went to his car. "I'll drive myself home, thanks."

---

Jim had the alarm set for 1 AM. Even though he'd gone to bed at 5 PM (pretty much right after he got back from that awful going-away party), waking up that next morning still sucked. A lot. He knew he had a three hour drive ahead of him to the airport. It was going to be a long day. He was really glad he had packed everything ahead of time. (There was an advantage to not having much of a life.)He was putting on a pot of coffee so he could have some caffeine on the way, when he heard a knock at the door. Squinting, he trudged over to the door and opened it to the lens of a commercial video camera in his face. "What?" he asked. "Damn it, I was going away to get away from this."

"Well, no such luck, buddy," the cameraman said as he came through the door. "I was just hired to tail you on your trip. Apparently, this is for that Life in an American Office reality show?"

"Yes, yes," Jim said, shutting the door. He headed back to the kitchen, cameraman in tow. "What's your name?"

"Mike," the guy said, holding his hand out. Jim shook it. Mike handed him a portable microphone. "Unfortunately, they told me that you're supposed to wear this all the time you're there, too. I guess it's part of your contract..."

"Yeah, I'm aware," Jim said. He rolled his eyes as he clipped on the microphone and stuffed the battery unit in his pocket. Jim hadn't actually realized that they could trail him on vacation, but what the hell? His life was already ruined, anyway. Now everyone was going to watch him run away from his problems in Australia. Fantastic. "I hate to disappoint you guys," he said, looking at the camera, "but I kind of doubt you're going to see much more than me drowning my sorrows in some Australian pubs. Maybe I'll get lucky and meet someone." He made a face. "Of course, she'd then live on the other side of the world, which would just about be my luck, wouldn't it? I guess it's no worse than falling in love with someone who's about to get married."

Mike shrugged.

Jim poured himself some coffee into a travel mug. "Want some coffee?"

Mike nodded. "I could use it. I didn't expect to start here at 1 AM today. That's the biz for you, though. You go where the work takes you."

Jim smiled at him. "Yep. And you, my friend, are going on a trip to Australia with me. Should be interesting." Jim gulped down half the cup of coffee too quickly. His throat burned as the hot liquid went down. Caffeine was essential here. He just needed to stay awake until they got on the plane.

---

Jim had to be on the plane by now. Pam looked at her watch. 7:26 AM. She wondered where he was at right now. He had probably just left. She knew he had to be at the airport by 5 AM, so his flight probably left around 7 or 7:30 AM. Ever since she had woken up this morning (in a haze - she must have slept 12 hours!), a feeling of dread was building in her stomach. She left for work early, separately from Roy. She told him she needed to catch up on work since she was going to be taking the next week-and-a-half off after today for her wedding and honeymoon.

Ugh. Just what she didn't need to think about right now. Especially after yesterday's blow-up.

She hated the fact that she'd left Jim angry. Now he was going to Australia - he was missing her wedding - and then moving to Stamford. Not that they were a world apart, but how often were they really going to visit each other? Maybe sometimes on the weekends? Would he even want to see her again? Would he always be bitter about the fact that she'd married Roy?

Ever since that day Michael had told her that Jim hadn't actually gotten over his crush for her - that he still had feelings for her that night that Roy set the wedding date - she'd been getting sick to her stomach. And that stomach ache had gotten slightly worse every day. And today - she felt like she wanted to throw up, the pain was so strong.

Jim had told her that he was in love with her. Not that he "loved her," but that he was in love with her, present tense. That was just over three weeks ago. She had told her mom that she was questioning whether to still get married to Roy. Then Jim had kissed her, and she had kissed him back (!) That felt unbelievable. It was electrifying. She felt him throughout her entire body, her stomach did flips ... she'd wondered for so long what it would feel like to kiss Jim, she couldn't help but kiss him back.

It wasn't until she walked out of the office that night when the guilt began to set in. She'd never cheated on Roy, ever. Ever. She had never even seriously thought about it until that moment. But the way Jim looked at her -- it made her want to rip his clothes off -- and feel what it would be like for him to wrap those tender arms of his around her bare, naked body and make love to her the way she'd always been fantasizing about.

In fact, ever since that day, she fantasized about Jim every single night. Right after Roy felt asleep, she lay next to him on the bed, completely still, closed her eyes, and let the pictures fill her mind. They were wonderful. Jim was wonderful. He cared about her the same way in bed that he did in real life. He never did anything she didn't want to do. He treasured every part of her body - every curve, every fold, every angle, as he slowly went up and down, kissing and caressing her everywhere.

She blushed as she realized she was getting aroused thinking about it.

She had to call Jim before she went into work. Even though she knew he couldn't answer, she could leave him a voice mail. This was ideal. She imagined he'd probably have a layover in Los Angeles. At least she'd get to really apologize before he left the states for two weeks. Who knew if he'd be able to call her? Oh, dear.

She opened her address book and pressed his speed dial number.

"Hi, Jim, it's Pam. It's Thursday morning, and I'm about to go into work. I have no idea what I'm going to do without you. Dwight and Michael are going to drive me up a wall. I didn't get to tell you this yesterday, but you are the only thing that makes work worthwhile sometimes. I just want you to know that. I am really, really, really going to miss you."

She paused.

"Speaking of yesterday, I want to apologize for my behavior. I never should have slapped you, and I shouldn't have let you leave angry. I shouldn't have left you angry. You're very important to me - more than you'll ever know. I, um..." She stopped talking once she realized there was a camera pointing directly at her through her driver's side window. "I hope you'll call me back. I hope you'll forgive me." She hung up quickly, realizing there was nothing more she could safely say to him right now.

Not now, maybe not ever. Certainly not if she was getting married to Roy. Every minute that went by, though, she was less and less sure what was going to happen.

She took a deep breath before getting out of the car, smiling tightly at the camera. "Good morning to you, too," she said sarcastically.

---

"Spamalot!" Michael bound into the office, way too cheerful for her to handle that morning. She ignored him until came up to the desk and pounded his fist on it. "Pam!"

She jumped. Giving Michael an irritated look, she said, "What?"

"Oooh. Testy, testy. Still that time of the month? I know how you women can be when you're ridin' the Crimson Wave."

Pam glared at him.

"You know, when Aunt Flo's in town...?"

Pam continued to glare at him.

"Erm, yeah," Michael said. "Any messages?"

"Yes, Jan called," Pam said.

"Ah, the lovely Ms. Levinson, yessss?"

"Apparently, she heard about the party you threw last night--"

"Of course," Michael said, beaming. "I invited her down to join the festivities, but she said she was tied up... indefinitely. Whatever that means."

Pam continued as though Michael had not interrupted her: "And she said that she absolutely cannot approve the charges. Oh, and you're supposed call her immediately."

"Right-O. We'll get everything sorted out, no problem. Jan and I, we're a team." Michael grinned at the camera as he bounded into his office.

Finally some peace, Pam thought. Michael was too much to deal with this morning. She should have just called in sick today. Or forever.

---

Jim had slept the entire way from New York City to Los Angeles. It was fantastic. He felt much more refreshed than he had several hours ago, and was less annoyed upon meeting Mike as he disembarked the plane to catch the connecting flight. "We have to switch to the international terminal, which is at the other end of the airport," Jim said to him. "I think we'll have to book it so we don't miss the connection."

As he was dashing across the airport, trying to follow the confusing signs -- where the hell was this place? -- He got the sense to pull his cell phone out of his carry-on. He figured he'd turn it on for just a minute - just to see if he had any messages. It certainly wouldn't surprise him if Michael left him a message or two. Ever since Michael had gotten a hold of Jim's cell phone number (which Michael never would have gotten if the company hadn't been monitoring all their e-mails), he was calling at least once a day to leave ridiculous messages, sometimes work related, sometimes with bad (inappropriate?) jokes, and sometimes just to say something that only Michael would say. Something needy. Or dumb.

He wondered if his mom had called. She knew he was leaving for Australia today. She'd asked that Jim bring her back an "authentic" boomerang. He wasn't exactly sure what she was planning to do with that, but, you know - when your mom asks, you can't say no, can you?

Mostly, though, he hoped Pam had called. As heartbroken as he felt, there was nothing more he wanted right now than to hear her voice. This wasn't like getting over a high school crush. He had been attracted to Pam for four years. He'd been in love with her for at least two of those four years. He didn't want to think about the wedding (two days away!) or stupid Roy or her denial of his feelings for her. He just wanted her. Her voice, her words ... Jim knew, somehow -- she had to love him. He had felt it ...

Damn it. He was getting pissed off all over again thinking about it. It was so damn unfair. Why did his life suck so much?

"Eight messages? Crud," he said, feeling his stomach jump a little bit as he pressed "OK" on the phone. He put on the speaker so he could listen to the messages as he and Mike dashed through the terminals. They were really running late...

"Message received: Wednesday, June seventh, eight o'clock PM," the phone announced.

"Jiiiimmmmm... it's your buddy, Michael. I'm missing you already! Can't believe you're leaving us." (He was obviously blasted at this point. Jim wondered if he had stayed at Farley's, or gone somewhere else.) "Gotta come back and hang with the crew -- you may not work for Scranton anymore, but you're always welcome back in the office, just so you know..." BEEP.

"Message received: Wednesday, June seventh, eight-oh-five PM."

"Michael, I don't want to.... Jim, it's Dwight. I ... Michael, I don't want to talk to him..." BEEP.

Jim skipped through the next four messages, which were, again, more Michael and Dwight nonsense.

"Message received: Thursday, June seventh, seven-oh-two AM."

"Hello, Jim. It's your mother. I wanted to try and get you before you left this morning, but you must have already taken off. I just wanted to tell you that I love you, and to be safe. You're traveling alone, which isn't the best idea, you really should have gone with someone, but, you know, I only worry because I love you. I know everything will turn out okay in the end. I hope you and Pam are still talking." Jim looked up sheepishly. "I love you, Jimmy. Call me if you can!" BEEP.

"Message received: Thursday, June seventh, seven-thirty-two AM."

"Hi, Jim, it's Pam. It's Thursday morning..." Jim gasped, and quickly took the phone off speaker, pressing the phone up to his ear. He stopped in his tracks until Mike shoved him.

"We're going to miss the flight!"

"Yeah... yeah," Jim said, running to catch up as he listened to the message. I can't believe she called me. I can't believe it, he thought, pressing the "save" button on the message. Just in case she didn't call again.

They arrived at the gate just on time. Once they were in line to board on the plane, Mike trained the camera on him. "So, I heard something about you and Pam... that was her on the phone?"

"Uh, yeah, she felt me a message," Jim said.

"But you're going on this trip to get away from her, huh?"

"Well, she is getting married in two days," Jim explained.

An airline agent tapped Mike on the shoulder. "Sir, you're going to have to shut off your camera. You can't run that on the plane."

Mike went to turn off the camera, but not before he caught the hint of a smile on Jim's face as they boarded.

---

"I honestly think this is going to be the longest day ever," Pam admitted as she was sitting in the Truth Booth. "Michael has decided to share more jokes with me because he doesn't have Jim around to laugh at them and it sucks."

"Are you nervous about the wedding?"

"Um..." Her eyes became very wide. "Yes, yes, I am."

She did not admit the fact that she'd been having doubts about whether the wedding was even going to happen. Just the fact that she was even considering not going through with this ... the wedding was two days away.

"Are you excited?"

"Um, yes, yes," she answered, too quickly. "This is the day every girl dreams of, isn't it?" She smiled tightly, staring at the camera. The pause that followed seemed to go on forever.

---

Since Jim had slept through the entire continental flight, he felt wide awake and restless on the second leg over the ocean. He had to admit, their accommodations were pretty nice. Apparently, they give you a little more room when you're going to be on a plane for fourteen hours. His eyes widened at that thought. Fourteen hours. He had never been on a plane for that long before. He'd brought a few magazines, some books, his laptop, and his iPod.

The week before he'd left, he'd downloaded a CD's worth of Postal Service songs and Johnny Cash singles. The two had a very different sound, but a similar sense of melancholy to their music. Right now he couldn't stop listening to "Nothing Better," by The Postal Service. It was such a sad song. It made him think of himself. Especially this part: "So please back away and let me go / I can't my darling I love you so..." And then: "Tell me am I right / to think that there could be nothing better / than making you my bride and slowly growing old together."

It made him feel less alone in the world. But certainly not less lonely. He sighed loudly, sinking lower into the seat.

---

"My mom is coming again today!" Pam was sitting at her desk, rearranging the position of her pen cup and message pad. "She's coming out this weekend for the wedding," Pam explained to the camera. "I really wish Jim was here; he wanted to talk to her last time and I realized Mom never got the chance to meet him."

She frowned, looking down at her desk suddenly.

"Maybe another time."

---

"I'm really looking forward to this weekend." Kevin was sitting in the Truth Booth. He opened up his button-down shirt to reveal a T-shirt that said, "Scrantonicity" on it. "This is a really big gig for us. This may be the weekend that Scrantonicity makes its break." He paused. Slowly, a smile broke out on his face. "If our band gets really big, I might have to quit working here."

That thought seemed to make him really happy.

---

"So, yes, I did get invited to the wedding," Michael Scott grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Of course, I expected it. I mean, we're not just a boss-employee relationship; I'm almost like a father to her, in a way. Except that I don't have to pretend to not find her attractive." Michael laughed loudly. "Just don't tell her fiancé that! Ha!"

"Are you bringing anyone?"

"Am I bringing anyone? Yes, I am. I invited Carole, and surprisingly, she said yes--" he winked at this, "I have to say, it's nice to have someone to bring. It sucks sometimes being alone, at a wedding. Kind of reeks of desperation. Don't really want to come off like Dwight, for instance."

---

"Am I going to the wedding?" Dwight asked. "Yes. I admit, I was a bit surprised to receive the invitation from Pam, but I do like Roy. So I decided to go."

"Are you bringing anyone?"

"Am I bringing anyone? Well, the invitation did say, 'Dwight Schrute and Guest,' but, you know, my 'guest' already has plans." Dwight smiled wickedly, stifling a laugh.

Everyone in the office knew that Dwight's "guest" was Angela. She was invited separately.

"I will probably attend alone. I know ... certain people that are going to be there, so I won't really be going alone..." Dwight thought for a second. "Is Michael going?"

"Yes."

"Yes!" Dwight said, pumping his fist. "Excellent."

---

"Michael is driving me up a wall. He won't leave me alone," Pam hissed, peeking over the top of her desk to see if Michael was still in his office. "He keeps asking me questions about the wedding -- asking me if I'm sure about everything, am I nervous, it's a big decision, etcetera. Of course I know what I'm doing. I've been waiting almost ten years for this day. I don't know why he keeps bothering me."

"Pamela Anderson!"

Pam gave the camera a look. "I mean, of course I know why -- it's Michael. That was a rhetorical question."

She grimaced as Michael came bounding up to her desk, smiling at the camera as he did so. "I, uh... just had a quick question for you, my bosom-y friend."

Pam looked up again as if to say, 'Help me!'

"So, uh... what's the dress code for this wedding? Monkey suits? Shirt-and-tie? Nice sweater? I don't know how, uh, formal you guys would choose to go, especially considering Roy, working in the warehouse, he's probably not a big suit-kinda-guy." Michael laughed at that.

Pam didn't. "I think most people are going to be wearing suits, Michael," she said.

"Great, great," Michael said. "Just wanted to, uh, make sure, you know --- didn't want to stick out like a sore thumb, or anything."

Michael, Pam, and the camera turned to look at Dwight, who today was wearing a mustard-colored short-sleeve button-down shirt with a very colorful Star Trek-themed tie. Pam smiled politely at him. "Sure."

At that moment, the door to the office opened, and Pam's mother came in. Pam seemed ecstatic for the distraction.

"Mom!" she said, jumping up.

"Pam!" she said, coming over to hug her daughter.

Next to them, Michael was loudly clearing his throat. He looked expectantly at Pam. "Are you going to, er, introduce me?"

Pam turned and rolled her eyes so Michael wouldn't see her. She turned back and said, "Oh, yeah -- I think I introduced you last time, but you were on the phone. Mom, this is Michael Scott, my boss..."

"Assistant Regional Manager for Dunder-Mifflin," Michael said, taking her hand and kissing it.

This seemed to make Mrs. Beesly slightly uncomfortable. "Well," she said, pulling her hand away, "it's nice to meet you, formally. I assume we're going to see you this weekend?"

"Oh, yes. Wouldn't miss it for the world!" Michael smiled brightly. "I will be bringing my realtor -- girlfriend -- er, my girlfriend, who also happens to be my realtor, Carole."

"You didn't tell me she was your girlfriend, Michael," Pam said. She looked up with renewed interest.

"Well, you know, we didn't want to make a big scene of it, but, yeah, I guess, you know, we're dating exclusively now. It was a hard decision, too, because, well, you know, I've got women swooning all over me. Eventually, you have to settle down, you know?"

Pam and her mom both raised their eyebrows at each other. Pam said: "Sure."

"Are you going to be a while, yet?" Mrs. Beesly asked. "I can go do something else..."

"Oh, no, no, no --" Michael cut in. "This is your big weekend. I'll let you off early." Pam looked very pleased to hear this. "But just this once," Michael said. "Wouldn't want corporate to think I'm getting too soft."

"Yeah, that won't happen," Pam said.

---

Pam gathered her stuff and walked out to the elevator with her mom.

"Where's Jim today?" Mrs. Beesly asked.

Pam had not gotten the heart to tell her mom the whole story yet. (Especially not the part where he'd decided to go to Australia the weekend of her wedding.) She also hadn't told her mom that Jim was leaving their office. She knew now that her mom was there; she wouldn't be able to lie anymore.

"Can we go get something to eat? I have a lot to tell you."

---

"Pam, I can't believe you. How could you have gone this long without telling me this?"

Pam was hunched over in the booth they were sitting in at Farley's. She sipped the frozen strawberry margarita in her hand slowly, avoiding having to continue the conversation.

"I knew you told me about that night up to the point where he said he loved you," she raised her eyebrows at Pam, "but you never told me you kissed him. I don't know what to say."

"Well, he kissed me," Pam clarified. "I just happened to kind of, um, kiss back, I guess." She looked and felt completely mortified as she explained this to her mom.

"But you told me nothing happened that night!"

"Well," Pam said, swallowing. "Nothing did happen. I called him the next day and told him that I was still getting married and we needed to just be friends."

"What'd he say?" Mrs. Beesly was leaning across the table, grasping her daughter's wrists. "What happened?"

"Well, he said that he was transferring to Stamford. And I already knew he was going to Australia during the wedding." She breathed out slowly, willing herself not to cry. "I ... don't know what to do. I never wanted this to happen."

"You never wanted what?"

"I never wanted Jim to go away. I never wanted to lose him. I don't even know if I'm making the right decision," Pam said, starting to cry.

Her mom looked at her. "What do you mean?" she asked softly.

"I mean," Pam said, gasping for breath between sobs, "I don't know if I should marry Roy. I don't know; I've been waiting so long for this. We've been dating for over ten years, Mom, I should want this, but when I saw Jim leave, I felt like maybe I'd never see him again, even though I know I'll see him again, but it won't ever be the same 'cause I'll be married and he's going to hate me forever and I don't want to lose him." She grabbed a napkin off the table and blew her nose.

"How do you feel about Jim?"

"I don't know, Mom ... I mean, I told you," she sniffed loudly, "he's my best friend. He listens to me, he hangs out with me; I always felt like he'd do anything for me. And I knew for a while that he liked me -- I mean, I didn't want to admit it, but I knew it, you know how you just know?" she asked, looking up at her Mom, her eyes puffy and red. "I knew, but I didn't want to believe it or think about it because I didn't want to ruin what Roy and I had. But now it's two days before our wedding and I don't know. And why did I have to think about this now?" She started sobbing again, grabbing another napkin to cover her face with as her shoulders shook violently.

Her mom came over to her side of the booth, and took her daughter into her arms. "It's okay, sweetie. You shouldn't ever go through with anything you don't want to do. Marriage is a lifelong commitment. It's not something to be taken lightly."

"I know, Mom!" Pam said, leaning on her head on her mom's shoulder. "I don't know what to do."

"Do you want to be married to Roy?"

"I don't know," she said. "I mean, I thought I did ... I wanted it for so many years, I waited so long for this day to come." She swallowed hard, and then looked up at her mom. "But now, now that Jim left, I mean, I feel like I lost a part of myself. I miss him, and... I think I love him."

"You think?"

"Oh, I don't know. I don't want to do this, I don't want to call off the wedding, but I just don't know, I don't know..."

"You don't know, or you don't want to hurt Roy? Is that it? You love Jim, but you don't want to hurt Roy."

"No," she whispered.

"And now you think you don't want to marry Roy."

"No," she whispered again.

"Come here," she said, taking her daughter into her arms again. "It'll be all right. I'll help you take care of everything. It'll be fine."

Mrs. Beesly paid for the drinks and they left Farley's.

---

Jim had become so used to narrating his life at the office, he often found himself doing it outside the office without thinking about it. In this case, he almost started telling his seatmate (a fifty-year old widow named Janice from Chicago) about the movie they were going to watch. As soon as he opened his mouth, though, he caught himself and shut it again.

Janice looked at him strangely. "What?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing," Jim said sheepishly. Embarrassed, he quickly changed the subject. "So, uh - what are you doing in Australia?"

"I'm meeting my Internet boyfriend," Janice told him. She smiled mischievously. "We've been having cyber-sex for three months, now."

Jim found himself unconsciously looking for the camera again. When he didn't find it, he turned back to her. "That's great," he said, nodding.

---

"Mom. This is serious. What am I going to do? I invited everyone I know to this wedding. I can't cancel it now."

Mrs. Beesly was driving while Pam sat in the passenger side, head in her hands.

"Sure you can. You don't just have a wedding because you're too embarrassed to cancel it." They were at a stoplight. Pam's mom turned to look at her daughter, who was now staring out the window, her cheeks streaked and stained with tears. "Don't make the same mistake your Aunt Carolyn did."

Pam's Aunt Carolyn had met a guy on vacation while drunk (she had a history of drinking problems, anyway), and had apparently agreed to marry the guy. She was too embarrassed to admit that she couldn't remember the proposal or saying "yes," for that matter. So, she married him, mainly out of spite towards her skeptical family. Needless to say, the marriage had ended badly. Lucky for Carolyn, the break-up happened soon enough that they were able to do an annulment rather than having to go through a full-blown divorce.

Pam turned and looked at her mother. "Do you think I'm getting married for the wrong reasons? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"I'm not you, Pam. Only you can decide if you're doing the right thing. It sounds to me like you're not so sure you are, though. Even if you change your mind later ... you can't rush into something like this."

"I actually think Roy might agree with you on that," Pam said, and in spite of herself, cracked a smile. "How ironic."

Mrs. Beesly smiled as well. "I just want you to be happy, Pam. If you're not sure about it, don't do it."

"I know, Mom, I know. But ten years... ten years of my life, down the drain. I was engaged for almost four years, Mom. It's just... it's hard to just throw that all away, just like that. I don't even know if Jim would take me, after everything I put him through..." She started shaking again.

"He'd have to be pretty dumb to turn you down after you gave up your wedding for him. Especially if he really does love you."

She swallowed hard. "Yeah," she said, looking up at her mom again. "Um... can we not go back to the apartment? I ... don't think I can see Roy right now."

"We'll go back to my hotel, Pam. I want you to lay down when we get back there and think about things, okay? Whatever you decide is okay by me, and I'll do whatever I have to do, you hear me?"

Pam nodded.

---

"So, yeah, the reason I'm going to Australia is because I'm in love with a woman I work with and she's getting married this weekend to another guy we work with. I couldn't be there for the wedding..." Jim's chin wrinkled as he frowned, trying not to let himself get too upset.

"I'm so sorry," Janice said, holding his arm.

"Yeah, and I'm leaving the job because ... there's no future for me there. She made her choice, and I wasn't it. So now I'm going to the other side of the world to try and run away from her. And it sucks because no matter how far I go, I'll never be able to forget her and I'll never be able to stop loving her. She is ... the most important person in my life." When he looked at Janice, his eyes were moist. He turned and looked out the window as the tear came down his cheek.

"Jim, dear. Let me tell you a story. I already told you that I'm a widow. I was married to my husband Hank for twenty-eight years. We got married when we were 18. He was the love of my life. I couldn't see my life without him in it. Then, about six years ago, he was diagnosed with prostate cancer. By the time we caught it, it was inoperable. Two years later, he passed away.

"I thought I would never get over it. I didn't go to work for six months. I pretty much didn't leave my house for six months. My friends finally convinced me that I had plenty of life ahead of me, and I needed to get back out there; that life goes on. I saw a therapist for a while - in fact, I still see one. It helped a lot, just to have someone to talk to about what you're feeling, without suffering judgment or scrutiny, you know? In the next few months, I saw my life starting to come back. I was working again full-time, I was hanging out with my friends; I was even trying to meet new people.

"Sure, I never forgot Hank. I never forgot what he felt like, how he made me feel, I never stopped missing him. But time makes wounds hurt a lot less, and as time's gone on, it's gotten easier for me. It'll be easier for you, too. You're doing the right thing, trying to move on. That's all you can do. That, and pray. The good Lord was probably the only thing that kept me from trying to join Hank in heaven." She smiled at Jim.

Jim nodded. "I appreciate that. I just hoped ... I hoped so bad that she'd change her mind. I mean, God --" Jim put his hand over his eyes, rubbing them. "It's so frustrating ... I came so close, I felt like. I just feel like she's getting married for the wrong reasons. That's why this is so hard. I feel like -- what if I did something else -- was there something more I could have done to convince her to choose me?" Jim rubbed his nose and sniffed.

Janice rubbed his arm. "Hang in there. And pray." She shrugged. "I think everything happens for a reason, even if it doesn't make sense now."

"Mom, I'm worried about talking to Roy. I'm scared."

"You're going to have to do it sooner or later, aren't you? The sooner, the better," Mrs. Beesly said, her arm wrapped around Pam's shoulder as they headed down to the lounge of the Hampton Inn that she was staying at. Mrs. Beesly had called Roy and asked him to meet them there so they could talk. She didn't mention anything about Pam's second thoughts; Pam had to do that for herself.

"I know, but how -- why..." She clenched her teeth. "Why is this happening two days before my wedding? How did I let this get so out of hand? Why couldn't I have decided this earlier?"

"Sometimes that's just the way it happens. You were probably just denying your feelings for so long, it was easy to avoid the truth. Until you couldn't anymore."

"Yeah," Pam said as they sat down at the table. She thought about that for a minute: how she was jealous when Jim first starting dating Katy (and then secretly happy when they broke up), how the office felt so empty without him there, how he was so fun to be around, how she found herself drawn to him when they were together, how his smile just made her happy and that smoldering look he gave her that night he told her he loved her -- how that gave her a rush that ran throughout her body and made her stomach jump.

It was the same look he'd given her that night that Roy set the date -- on the Booze Cruise. She had been afraid he'd try to kiss her that night. He had that way of licking his lips when he wanted to say something important ... he'd done it twice that night. When he did that, she remembered suddenly feeling like she wanted to kiss him -- passionately, feel his moist, tender lips against hers. Feel his strong, but slender arms wrap around her and hold her tightly while he whispered affections into her ear.

Pam was not looking forward to this conversation with Roy. In fact, he was the last person in the world that she wanted to see right now.

"Will you order me a vodka-cranberry, Mom?" she said. She had to escape for a minute. The thought of talking to Roy was suffocating. How was she going to explain it? He was going to hate her. Was she really prepared to do this? She could already imagine his response:

'Is this about Halpert? That asshole? He's nothing, Pam. He's nothing. You're giving up a 10 year relationship for that twerp?'

Just imagining the conversation was making her angry as she escaped to the bathroom. She splashed her face with cold water, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Why did Jim like her? she wondered. She was dowdy-looking, in her striped button-down shirt, gray skirt and yellow cardigan. She had her hair in the usual hairstyle, pulled back with a barrette. She just as easily could have been mistaken as a librarian. She was boring. Roy was always making comments about how she should dress sexier.

Jim never made any lewd comments. He just seemed to like her for who she was. He loved her. He understood her, too, which is more than she could say for Roy. Roy couldn't even tell her what her favorites were. Jim probably knew every one of them.

There was no question in her mind what she had to do. She steeled her spine in front of the mirror. This was still going to be the hardest thing she had ever done.

Pam felt her hands shaking as she left the bathroom.

When she sat back down again, Roy still hadn't arrived. Roy really liked Pam's mom. It always seemed like he was sucking up to her; bringing her out to her favorite restaurants, taking her shopping when she was in town ... (Roy never took Pam shopping by herself.)

Pam sucked down half the drink in one gulp. Nothing like a bit of liquid courage.

"Are you ready to do this?" her mom asked, touching Pam's arm.

Pam grimaced. "I don't know that I'll ever be ready."

---

"This is one of my favorite movies," Jim said to Janice. They were watching Walk the Line (the Johnny Cash biopic) on Jim's laptop. The in-flight movie ended up being House of Wax, a bad movie Jim had already seen once and didn't need to see again. Janice wasn't a fan of horror movies.

"Me, too," Janice said. "I haven't met anyone who thought this was a bad movie."

"I have," Jim said. Roy. Pam liked the movie, though. She said that Roy wouldn't sit through it - that he didn't like country music and didn't want to watch a movie about a country singer. So Jim made her bring the movie over one night when Roy had other plans, and they watched it together. He remembered a couple moments throughout the movie when Pam became uncomfortable sitting next to him, and got up to go to the bathroom, or get a drink. One of them was when Johnny Cash decided to get divorced from his first wife.

Maybe she was seeing too much of her own future in that scene.

Jim sighed quietly, leaning back in his seat.

"Well, whoever they were, they must not have very good taste in movies," Janice said. Jim had to think for a moment before he figured out what she was talking about.

"Yeah, he doesn't." Jim smirked at Janice.

---

When Roy came to meet them at the Hampton Inn Lounge, he was wearing a red sweater with a button-down underneath and dark jeans. His face looked freshly scrubbed.

Instead of being pleased by this, it only made Pam angry. Kiss-up.

Roy went to kiss her, but she turned her head so he only grazed her cheek. Roy took a step back when she did that and looked surprised. "What's up, babe? Something wrong?"

Pam didn't respond to that, but stared at his face. He looked completely clueless.

She must have been staring at him for a while, because he said, "What? What are you looking at? Do I have something on my face?"

Pam shook her head. She opened her mouth, but closed it again right away. She felt like her vocal chords had just been ripped out. Her throat burned.

"Um, why don't we all sit down," Pam's mom said, gesturing to the seats around the table. "I'll order you a drink."

Pam sat there, staring straight ahead, unfocused. She had no idea how she was going to do this.

After the cocktail waitress had delivered Roy's drink and left, Pam's mom looked over at Pam. She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows.

"So, what's going on?" Roy asked, looking between the two of them. "You guys are acting really weird. You're not trying to call off the wedding, are you?"

Pam's eyes grew wide. "Um..." was all she got out before she burst into tears for the second time that day.

Roy quickly looked back and forth again. "What? Are you? Are you calling off the wedding?"

Pam's mom looked at Roy. "I'm sorry, Roy," she said.

"What?" Roy said. "I can't ... you can't ... why?"

"I..." Pam looked up at him, tears running down her face. Words would not come out. "I... can't. I can't. It's... I just can't, Roy."

"Why are you doing this, Pam?" Roy asked. The reality was finally starting to sink in. The disbelief was turning into anger. "What the hell are you thinking? It's two fucking days before the wedding, Pam. Two days. You think you would have realized this sooner, Pam. I mean, what the hell? And why? You've been begging for this for the past three years!"

"Four," Pam said quietly.

"Four - whatever, it doesn't fucking matter, what the hell. I can't believe you're doing this now. You have a lot of nerve, Pam."

Pam swallowed hard, and mustered up the strength to look Roy in the eye. "I don't ... love you anymore, Roy."

Roy seemed floored by this. "Does this have anything to do with Halpert?" he asked.

"What do you think, Roy?" Pam asked, looking at him defiantly. She was starting to get angry now, too. Now that she could openly admit her true feelings, a lot of frustrations she'd kept bottled up for so many years were finally coming to surface.

"What do I think? I think it has everything to do with him -- the way he's always hanging over your desk, and touching your arm, and standing next to you, and cracking stupid jokes -- I should have seen it coming -- he was horning in on you all along. He never stopped having a crush on you and now it's his fucking fault that we're not getting married..."

"Shut up, Roy, just ... shut the fuck up." Pam clapped her hand over her mouth and looked down. She'd never sworn in front of her mother before. When she looked over at her mom, her mom wasn't looking at her, though. She was staring at Roy, who had his hands in his head.

"I just... I just don't understand, Pam. Why do you wait until the wedding is two days away? We put deposits down on everything. If you'd figured your shit out earlier, we wouldn't be in this position --"

"Yeah, Roy, you're exactly right. Because it's all about the money we're going to lose by canceling this, right? Because it's always about money with you, isn't it?" Roy glared at her, but she ignored it. "Did it ever occur to you that I struggled with this for a long time? That I do love you, Roy, but I'm not in love with you anymore. That I was afraid of hurting you. That I felt like, yeah, it has been ten years of my life and I didn't want to make the wrong decision, but even as it became more obvious that it wasn't going to work, it became that much harder to call it off."

"Really, Pam."

"I couldn't even admit to myself until yesterday that I didn't want to do this! I mean, Roy, you have... no idea how hard this is for me."

"I'm sure it is, Pam," Roy said, shoving the chair back so hard, it fell backwards. He stood up. "Why don't you just go to your stupid office lover? Have a nice life, okay? I want your shit out of our apartment by the end of the weekend."

Pam started crying again, her entire body shaking with the sobs. "Roy... I'm so sorry, I never meant it to end this way... I'm sorry..."

"I'm not calling anyone, either. You can fucking call everyone and tell them what you did." With that, Roy stormed out of the lounge.

Pam watched him go, speechless. "What did I just do?" she said. "Oh, my God." Every part of her body was shaking. Still, she felt like the heaviest weight in the world had just been lifted off her shoulders. She looked at her mom, and felt her lower lip start to quiver. "Mom..."

Mrs. Beesly stood up, holding her arms out. "Come on. We'll bring you upstairs. I'll get your aunts together and we can make those phone calls for you tomorrow. I may need some of your coworkers' numbers, though." She dropped some money onto the table and they walked out of the lounge.

Pam sniffed as they headed into the lobby. "Don't worry, Mom. As soon as you tell Michael, the entire office will know it's off. Word spreads like wildfire around there."

---

Pam slept horribly that night. It was the first time in years that she'd slept alone, and it felt weird.

She couldn't stop thinking about everything. How Roy had gotten so upset - but still - his responses had felt hollow to her. She wondered whether he had ever really wanted to get married, or if he was just doing it to appease her. She couldn't stop thinking about when Jim told her that Roy had said their first engagement "wasn't real." Maybe that was why Roy hadn't fought her decision. Maybe that was why he didn't get down on the floor and beg for her to change her mind. Maybe he hadn't wanted to get married either.

She thought about what he said, "If you'd figured out your shit earlier, we wouldn't be in this mess..."

He made it sound almost as though he'd known she was unhappy. Almost as though he had expected her to call off the wedding.

She shifted positions in the uncomfortable hotel bed. And now... now she was going to spend tomorrow having to pack up the apartment. What was she going to take? After ten years together, she wasn't even sure what was hers and what was his anymore. What if Roy was around when she got there? He was supposed to have Friday off to get ready for the wedding. He wouldn't be there, would he?

Pam wondered if she should call someone to go to the apartment with her. Who would she call, though? She really didn't have any friends outside of work ...

She kept asking herself if she had done the right thing. Every time she asked herself that question, though, she saw Jim, that night in the office -- after hours, taking her in his arms and gently touching his lips to hers. Putting everything on the line because he loved her and only her.

And now he was in Australia because of her. He was transferring to Stamford because of her. Everything he did - everything was for or because of her.

Why had she denied it for so long?

---

"Every time Pam is gone, I have to fill in on reception," Ryan Howard, the temp, explained to the camera. "Which really isn't that big of a deal except that Michael finds a lot more excuses to talk to me when I'm here. And he's always staring at me." The camera turned to show Michael staring through the window of his office. "I'm pretty used to that by now, actually. It's more about the little comments that get me."

"Ryan!" Michael came bounding up to reception. "Office Hottie Dundie Award-Winner! Lookin' good today, Ry."

"Uh, thanks?" Ryan looked at the camera as if to say, 'See?'

"What did you do with that award, anyway?"

"Um, I don't know," Ryan said.

Michael smiled. "I know it's not in your desk -- I checked! Hope you brought it home and put it on the 'ol mantle."

"Yeah, that's probably what happened," Ryan mumbled. The phone rang, and he grabbed the line like it was a life rope. "Dunder Mifflin, this is Ryan ... Yes, he is. Just a moment."

Ryan paused for a moment, then said: "Michael, it's for you. It's Pam's mom."

"I'll get it in my office!"

---

Michael wondered why Pam's mother would be calling him. She was a MILF -- that stood for "Mother I'd Like to..." -- well, Michael explained that he couldn't translate it fully on television without use of the bleep button. "She's a fox, though," he said as he pressed the speakerphone button.

"Excuse me?" Mrs. Beesly said at the other end of the line.

"Erm, nothing ... how can I help you today?"

"Well, Pam said that I should call you and that you'd be kind enough to let everyone in the office know -- her wedding has been called off."

"Her wedding was called off?" Michael stared at the camera, which had followed him into his office. "Wow. Awkward. What happened?"

"Um..." There was a long pause at the other end. "I think it would probably be better if Pam explained when she gets back. I just want to make sure that everyone that Pam invited from the office knows about it."

"No problemo, Mrs. B. I just... wow. That's going to make things reeeeeally awkward around here, won't it?"

"I don't know, I suppose --"

"I mean, you know, with Pam and Roy working in the same building -- Pam's not quitting, is she?"

"Not that I know of..."

"Yeah, because we just lost Jim this week - funny, too, because I'm sure he took the transfer because of Pam getting married. Isn't it ironic? Hah, Alanis Morrisette said that. She's a great singer. Do you know her work?"

"Um, yeah, Michael, I appreciate all your help with this, but I really have a lot of other phone calls to make."

"Of course, of course. I understand how hard this can be, so if there's anything I can do for you -- or for Pam -- or for both of you -- well, don't hesitate to let me know!"

"Absolutely, thank you."

Michael hung up the phone, giving the camera another wide-eyed expression. "Wow," he said again. "I guess I was right about that whole 'underground office romance' that Jim and Pam were having. Roy must have found out..."

He immediately got up and walked to reception. "Pam--" he started to say, but cracked up. "Just kidding, haha, you're like Pam -- sitting there. Except, you know, you're more attractive -- but, you know, in a manly way, not in a feminine way, you know--"

Ryan looked up at Michael. "Um, okay." He really didn't know what to say sometimes. Usually. All the time.

"Look, I need you to put together a company memo -- I assume that Pam invited everyone here, so, you know -- Pam's wedding is off. Her mom asked me to make sure that everyone here knew about it." He leaned over the counter, eyeing Ryan conspiratorially, "I think Roy found out about her and Jim..."

"I didn't think Pam was dating Jim," Ryan said.

"They were on the down-low," Michael said, winking.

Ryan nodded, looking back and forth between Michael and the camera.

---

Within five minutes, everyone in the office knew that Pam's wedding was off and that Pam and Jim were (supposedly) dating. Ryan was still trying to type up the memo that Michael had told him to write.

---

"Man. I'm really bummed out that Pam cancelled the wedding. This totally could have been our big break." Kevin sat in the Truth Booth, slumped over in his chair. "I'm wearing our shirt today, too," he said, opening his dress shirt to reveal another (or the same?) Scrantonicity shirt underneath. "We were going to practice after work today."

---

"I can't say I'm really surprised that Jim's the reason Pam isn't getting married," Angela said, frowning. "Everyone in the office knew they were involved. They don't know how to keep their romantic feelings to themselves. You can't allow romance during work. It disrupts your productivity."

---

The camera zoomed in on an e-mail screen, open on Dwight's computer.

It was addressed to angela@dunder-mifflin.com.

All the e-mail said was: "Meeting about sales financials tonight? Bring cookies?"

---

Pam arrived at her apartment around 10 AM. When she got there, much to her relief, Roy's truck was gone. She made the decision to only pack up things that were hers -- shoes, clothes, make-up ... she also had a shoe box she stored on the top shelf of the front closet. She kept it up in an area that Roy never got into - by the vacuum cleaner bags and dusters. (He never touched that stuff.)

That was the first place she went to when she walked in the door. She pulled the box down and opened it up. Inside were a number of things that would be considered insignificant to anyone else, Roy included, but right now meant the world to her.

She pulled out the photocopied picture from Jim's high school yearbook. Two hot sauce packets. One of the fake medals she'd made out of paper clips and an old yogurt lid. A post-it note that just said, "Nice costume! Meow!" with the last word underlined twice. A tube of Super Glue. A dried bunch of lilac. A golf pencil. Among many, many other little items. Mementos from the office.

She had brought them all home because she didn't want the cleaning people finding them and thinking they were garbage. She also didn't Roy questioning what they were. He already thought she was a little weird, and anything (joke or not) involving Jim always made him jealous. So she'd hidden it in the closet. Now it was one of the only things she wanted to bring with her from this place.

She sighed heavily, looking at the box. She wanted to call Jim so badly and tell him everything. Tell him she called off the wedding. Tell him about the box. Tell him that she was in love with him, and had been for a long time, even though she couldn't even admit it to herself until recently.

She swallowed slowly. No, she had to finish packing her stuff first. It wasn't right to call him until she had finished this. She needed to get this done.

---

It only took Pam about two-and-a-half hours to pack up all her clothing, shoes and personal items into her car. She was surprised, looking at everything, that she had very few items she would consider "personal" to her. Most of the stuff she'd bought since moving in with Roy was shared items - appliances, electronics - things she really wasn't concerned about. She wasn't even interested in taking the few pieces of furniture they'd bought together.

She did take her down comforter and pillow, however. She had bought those items right after high school, and they held a certain amount of sentimental value to her. At the time, the purchase had signaled what she thought was a new bout of independence from her parents - a new start on life as an adult. Instead of going out into the world to explore her independence, though, she moved in with Roy three months after graduating high school. They had been living together for almost eight years now. She sniffed the comforter as she bought it out to the car.

It smelled faintly of Roy - a hint of Davidoff Cool Water, his favorite cologne, a bit of Suave Aloe Vera, the shampoo he used, and a scent that was indescribable, but undeniably Roy. She swallowed, stuffing it into the trunk of her car. She would have to get that cleaned before she used it again.

Once everything was organized and ready to go, she locked up the apartment and headed to the East Scranton Public Storage facility, where she was going to temporarily store most of her stuff until she found a place. She kept a suitcase full of clothes and toiletries out, but everything else went into the locker. Getting that done made her feel complete. She knew there was a lot more that still needed to be figured out, but there was plenty of time to worry about that later. She had more important things to take care of at that moment.

---

"Yes, the wedding's been called off ... Why? ... it's complicated; Pam really didn't explain it to me fully, but I think she and Roy have a few things to work out before they ..." Mrs. Beesly's voice trailed off as she saw her daughter trod into the room, pulling a rolling suitcase and carry-on behind her. "Look, can I call you back?" she asked, hanging the phone up.

"Hey, Mom," she said, leaving the suitcase in the middle of the room, and came over to the bed, where her mom was sitting.

Mrs. Beesly had the phone next to her, along with a list of names and an open address book. "How are you doing? Did you finish packing up?"

"Yeah," Pam said, sitting down. "I packed up everything I wanted to keep. There's a lot of stuff I left, but Roy and I can figure that out later, I guess." She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. "I still can't believe I'm doing this," she said. She opened her eyes and looked at her mom. "Everything's happening so quickly, Mom."

"I know, dear. But sometimes when you figure out what you really want, it feels like it does happen really fast. When I met your dad, it felt like a whirlwind - ten, twenty years were gone before I knew it." She smiled wistfully.

"Did you tell Dad about everything?"

"He was the first person I called this morning."

Pam's dad was supposed to come meet them in Scranton Friday night, as he couldn't get time off work to come any earlier. Now that the wedding was off, she figured she probably wouldn't see him that weekend. "What -- what did he say, Mom?"

"He said what I did -- that you need to do what makes you happy, Pam. We both just want what's best for you."

Pam hadn't been sure how her father would react: her dad had always liked Roy a lot. He had started calling Roy "son" about two years into their relationship, and was always joking with Roy about when he was going to make Pam "a proper woman." She thought if anyone would be upset about them calling off the wedding, it would be him.

"Are you sure he wasn't mad?"

"Pam, why would he be mad?" She put her arm around her daughter. "You've got to stop worrying about what other people think about you all the time. Your father and I love you. We will always love you, no matter what."

Pam nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. "Okay," she whispered.

Her mom and her sat there together for a couple minutes. Her mom asked, "What are you going to do next?"

She looked up at her mom. "Go find Jim."

---

Jim woke up to the announcement that their plane would be landing shortly, and to please set your seat to its full and upright position. He tapped Janice, who had also been sleeping, to let her know that they were landing and she needed to move her seat.

He looked out the window at the expanse of ocean below them. Soon, they would be landing. He would be in Australia.

On one hand, he was fairly excited - the farthest he had ever been from home was the trip that he and Mark had taken to Los Angeles a few years ago. On the other hand, he couldn't get the sense of dread out of his stomach, knowing exactly why he was there. One more day, and Pam would be married. She was already out of his grasp, but the fact that she was getting married seemed to put a stamp of finality on it.

He needed to get his mind off Pam. Anything. Anything to make these bad feelings go away.

It was 3 PM the following afternoon (local time) when Jim's plane arrived at the Sydney International Airport. He was wide-awake. As he was heading to the baggage claim, Mike caught up with him, camera in hand. Back to business as usual.

"We're supposed to meet our driver at the baggage check," Jim said. They were staying at the Crest Hotel in downtown Sydney. Since it was the middle of winter in Australia, the weather was in the middle-to-lower 60's, which was fine by him. It had topped a stifling 90 degrees in Scranton the day before he'd left home. He was actually pleased be coming to cooler weather. The forecast looked rainy for the first few days he was going to be there, but honestly - he wasn't in Scranton, so what was there to complain about?

---

It took Pam the rest of the afternoon to get a hold of the company travel agent that Jim had booked the trip through. When she finally got a hold of her, the woman refused to give Pam the location of the hotel Jim was staying at, citing privacy regulations. Pam had pleaded and explained their story, but the woman wouldn't budge - until Pam offered her the Chili's gift certificate that Michael had given Pam for her birthday. (It wasn't like she could use it; she was going to re-gift it, anyway.)

Once Pam had broken the information from her, she booked the next available flight to Sydney. She didn't know how she would be able to afford it, but at this point, it really didn't matter to her. If she had to fly halfway around the world to see Jim, she'd go broke to do it. She couldn't wait two more weeks to tell him what she had to say, and she wanted to be there to say it; to see his face and feel him as he took her into his arms...

Her flight left New York at 11 PM that night. She arrived at the gate early, so she used the time she had to make a phone call.

"Crest Hotel, how may I connect you?" the perky voice at the other end of the line said. The line sounded tinny. It was strange; she'd never called anyone outside the country before. It was probably costing her an arm-and-a-leg, especially since she was calling from a pay phone using her credit card.

"Yes, can I have the room of Jim Halpert, please?"

"Let me connect you to the front desk, one moment."

Pam waited while they put her through. She repeated her question to the front desk agent who answered. "I'm sorry," the agent said, "it doesn't look like he checked in yet. Can I take a message to leave for him?"

"Um..." Pam's throat closed up when she saw through her peripheral vision a figure standing next to her, and turned to see Jeff and his camera filming her. Is nothing sacred? "Um... just that I miss him, and can't wait to see him again," she said finally.

"Do you have a return number I could leave?"

"No, no, he won't be able to get a hold of me." She kept glancing back at the camera, and hunched over so they couldn't see her talking.

Jeff moved the camera around to the other side. She scowled at him.

"Can I leave a name for him?"

"Pam Beesly. Thank you." She quickly hung up the phone and swung around to face Jeff. "What are you guys doing here?" She stopped herself. "Of course, why do I even ask? You guys probably heard about everything in the office today. I won't even ask how you knew to find me at the airport." She frowned and sat back down near the gate. "I don't want to talk about it," she said.

They sat in silence for about two minutes. Then Jeff asked: "What made you change your mind?"

"I don't know," she said. She turned away from the camera and rolled her eyes. "A lot of things. A lot of things ... I mean, I guess I never realized what Jim and I had all along. I always thought of him as one of my best friends -- someone really great to hang out with -- he really made the workday go by faster, it was nice." She stopped, feeling shy all of a sudden, and smiled at her feet. "Um... and maybe, I think, on the Casino Night, after he told him about his feelings -- that got me thinking about everything. I guess I never really thought about the fact that he was interested in me until then. It was probably obvious ... wasn't it?"

Jeff said nothing, but she could see him smiling behind the camera. Jerk.

"I didn't tell anyone this until recently, that Jim kissed me that night, too," she grinned involuntarily. "It was ... I didn't expect it at all." She smiled again. "That ... made me start rethinking everything. I think -- it kind of put him in a different light for me. I think I spent so much time avoiding it and not thinking about it, when it finally hit me, it really hit me." She smiled again. She hadn't felt this happy in years. It was an unbelievable feeling. She thought she had been happy that day that Roy had set the wedding date ---- but she realized it was more like relief than happiness. It had felt like a validation at the time. She didn't realize how hollow it had become until the day of Jim's going away party when he'd said all those things to her -- that really, she had been grasping for straws. Somehow, she had the notion that once she got married, everything would be okay, and Roy and her would somehow live happily ever after. She had needed validation that she had not wasted the last ten years of her life waiting to marry Roy.

But, Jim: ever since Jim had come into her life, he had slowly but surely crept into her consciousness. He was a coworker, a friend, a confidant, and lately, a subject of her fantasies. She hoped he would understand why it had taken her so long to come around ...

It never even occurred to her until then that maybe he might still be angry at her. Would he want to see her? Did she do the right thing, spending her savings on this plane ticket? Maybe she should have waited until he came back ...

Pam must have looked conflicted, because Jeff said, "What?"

"Nothing," she said. "I think I'm just nervous about taking such a long flight." And having the whole trip to think about how Jim's going to react to you randomly showing up at his hotel... in Australia. She couldn't believe she was actually doing this.

---

Jim and Mike arrived at the hotel in short order. They even got to ride a limo from the airport to the hotel. That was kind of nice. It made him feel like he was more important than he really was. Jim looked down at his worn-out wool trench and brown oxfords as they stepped out of the car. He certainly wasn't dressed like a high roller. No one would mistake him for Brad Pitt; that was for sure.

He went to check in at the front desk, handing over the credit card he'd used to secure the reservation.

"Here's your room key," the agent said. Her nametag said her name was Shell. Jim smiled at that. Made him think of the beach. It was too bad it was really too cold to go to the beach. "Oh, and it looks like you have a message, Mr. Halpert." She handed him an envelope embossed with the hotel logo. It had his name hand-written on it.

Jim got a strange thrill out of being called "Mr. Halpert." He smiled at that.

"Do you need any help to your room?" Shell asked.

"Um, no," Jim said, glancing over at Mike, whose bags were already loaded on a bell cart. Mike had his suitcase along with all his camera equipment and a carry-on. He had a lot of luggage, compared to Jim, who had only packed a medium-sized suitcase. His messenger bag was his carry-on. Jim headed over to where Mike was standing, waiting for the bellhop to pick up the luggage. "What room are you staying in?"

"1504," Mike said, readjusting his camera to sit on his shoulder again, now that he'd arranged his luggage.

"I'm in 1512; we're just down the hall from each other. We can go up together, then."

"Exactly," Mike said.

The bellhop arrived and the three of them headed over to the elevators. As they waited for an elevator to open, Jim eyed the envelope. He wondered who could have left him a message. His stomach jumped thinking about it. What if it was Pam? That thought made him grin nervously.

"What?" Mike asked, looking at the envelope. Mike's camera was watching Jim as well.

The bellhop eyed Mike and his camera curiously. "What's that all about?" he asked, breaking the moment. Jim felt relieved for the distraction.

"We're filming a documentary," Mike explained. The elevator opened and the three of them boarded. As the doors closed, Jim wedged himself in-between the luggage and the wall, hoping Mike couldn't see him as he carefully opened the envelope. Inside was a folded piece of stationary with the hotel logo embossed on the top. He opened it up all the way.

The note read:

Message for Jim Halpert, hotel guest
Received Saturday June 10th, 2:32 PM, via telephone

I miss you and I can't wait to see you again.

- Message from Pam Beasley
No return number provided

Jim gasped. It was from Pam. He felt very sick to his stomach all of a sudden. Received today, at 2:30 PM. He wondered what time it was there when she had called. She had called less than an hour ago! It must be late at night back home.

Why had she called? And what was that message supposed to mean -- "I miss you" --? "I can't wait to see you again" --? Was this supposed to be some kind of joke? It was the day before her wedding and she was sending him a message like this? What the hell was this?

He looked at it again. She knew he was in Australia. She was getting married tomorrow. Was she trying to reassure him? Make him feel better? It was having more the effect of feeling like he was being screwed with halfway around the world. She knew he was taking this trip to get away from her and her goddamn wedding. Who did she think she was, anyway?

The more he thought about it, the angrier it made him. As they stepped out of the elevator, he crumbled the paper into a ball and threw it into one of the small garbage cans by the elevator, but it bounced off the rim and onto the floor.

Jim stormed by, and didn't notice when Mike carefully scooped the paper off the floor and stuffed it into his pocket. By the time Jim had turned around again, Mike had caught up to them and they were at Mike's room. Jim waited until his stuff was dropped off, then Mike followed him to his room while they dropped Jim's bags off.

Once they were alone again, Mike said, "What did you throw away when we got off the elevator?"

"It was nothing," Jim said, shaking his head and frowning. "I could use a drink. Why don't we check out the hotel bar?"

---

There were three bars in the hotel, but the only one that was open that time of day was the Sports Bar. Jim wasn't a huge sports fan, but he wasn't in the bar to watch the sports on TV; he was there to get a few drinks in him and hopefully forget about his disastrous love life for a few days. As long as he stopped receiving those fucked-up messages from Pam, he'd be okay.

He still didn't understand why she would leave a message at his hotel. What was it supposed to mean? Was she trying to be nice after they'd left on such bad terms? She had also left him that other mysterious phone message when he'd left on Thursday. Was it possible she'd changed her mind?

No, Jim thought. You can't go getting your hopes up again; that's how you got into this whole mess in the first place. She was getting married tomorrow and he had to figure out how to deal with it. These messages she'd left him were not helping the cause; that was for sure.

He wished his cell phone worked down here. He just wanted so badly to hear her voice again. Hear her tell him how much she'd miss him. Hear her tell him how things weren't the same without him there. Jim sighed loudly, setting his hand on his chin.

"Get you a drink, mate?"

Jim jumped in his seat as he looked up at the bartender, who looked back at Jim expectantly, and then curiously at the camera behind him. He turned back to Jim quickly.

"Eh?" the bartender said.

"Oh, yeah, uh -- a beer." Jim glanced quickly at the beers on tap. "Uh -- a Tooheys, I guess?"

"New or Old?"

Jim looked confused. "What's the difference?"

"The New is a 'lager-style' beer, while the Old is a 'dark ale-style' beer."

Jim nodded. He had to smile at the way they said "beer," the "e's" were really drawn out and said in a higher pitch. "Lager" had a interesting ring to it in the Australian dialect as well. "I'll have a Tooheys New," he said.

"Large or small schooner?" He held up the two mugs. The large was huge.

"I guess I'll take a large," Jim said. Jim looked over at Mike, who was sitting down next to him, his camera perched on his shoulder. "You want one?" Jim asked him.

"I really shouldn't..."

"C'mon, just one," Jim said. "You need it after the long flight."

Mike shrugged, causing the camera to shift on his shoulder. He turned the camera off temporarily, lowering it onto the bar. "One," he said, holding his finger up. "Only one."

Jim nodded at the bartender. "We'll take two schooners," he said.

---

Several hours and several large schooners later, they were both getting a little loopy. Jim was a beer up on Mike, but considering that they'd both had three so far, that didn't say much. "This is my lascht one," Mike said. He had been drinking on the plane, too. Intercontinental travel (especially with a large camera strapped to you constantly) was a lot more stressful than it seemed. Having a few beers helped take the edge off.

Mike repositioned the camera on his shoulder, turning it back on again. Despite the fact that he was a bit tipsy, his instinct told him that he would be in trouble if he didn't start recording some of these crazy conversations they were having.

Jim had gone back to babbling on about the phone messages that Pam had left him.

"... I just can't believe she called. It's the day before her wedding - what do you think it means?" Jim leaned in really close to the camera lens. "Do you think she really likes me? I wish she liked me. I wouldn't be here now if she did, though." He stuck his tongue out in disgust, and turned to his right, where a blonde girl was eyeing him (and the camera) with great interest. "No offense to you," he said, nodding very seriously.

"No, no - don't worry 'bout it," the girl said.

Australian accents were really cute, Jim thought. Especially when really cute, tanned girls accompanied them. He studied her very closely while she watched with a sense of amusement. "You're pretty cute," he said.

She smiled very widely at that. "So are you," she said, touching his leg.

He looked down at her hand, somewhat startled. "Yes, you're pretty cute, but not exactly my type," he said, frowning at her sadly. He took a large gulp from the schooner. "I'm sorry."

She looked surprised at that, taking her hand back. "What is your type, then?"

"A girl named Pam Beesly from where I come from."

The girl next to Jim became acutely aware of the camera perched directly behind her, trained on Jim. She turned and smiled nervously at it. "Um --" She looked back and forth between Jim and the camera quickly. "Where do you come from?"

"Pennsylvania. A boring town called Scranton. It's a few hours from New York City."

"Ah," she said, recognizing that. She leaned into Jim, gesturing at the camera. "What's with the camera?" she whispered to him.

Jim looked at it, too, then back at the girl. "It's for a reality-documentary show I've been a part of."

Her eyes lit up. "Ooh - is it like Big Brother, or the Amazing Race? I love reality shows!"

Jim shrugged. "Sort of. I used to work in an office back home ... and they filmed us there." He looked accusingly at the camera. "Apparently, the contract I signed said they could follow me here, too."

"And why are you here?"

"Because the girl I'm in love with is getting married." He looked at his watch. "Probably ... in about 12 hours from now."

"Wow, really? I'm so sorry," the girl said, putting her hand on his knee again.

---

As Pam dashed through the airport of LAX, she found herself wondering why they gave you so little time to transfer from your domestic flight to your international flight. By the time she made it to the gate that her flight was leaving out of, they were already boarding the plane. She was kind of proud of the fact that she'd made it this far: flying always made her a bit nervous, and she wasn't used to flying alone.

She waited in line, watching the couple in front of her as they slowly moved forward. It was a younger couple, no older than 30 or so. The guy had his arm around the girl he was with, and she noticed the wedding ring on his finger.

I would have been getting married in about 12 hours from now, she thought. That was a strange thought. After all the years of waiting ... the months of planning ... and here she was, one day after calling off her wedding, boarding a flight to Australia.

If someone had asked her last week where she would be, she couldn't have guessed in a million years she'd be doing this.

---

Mike had convinced Jim that he really needed to get something to eat, since he was practically falling off the bar stool, so he said goodbye to Jessica (Jim finally asked what her name was after they'd been talking for over an hour) and they headed out onto the street to find somewhere to eat. Jim had remembered taking something from Jessica at some point, and when he reached into his pocket, he pulled out a napkin that had her phone number scrawled on it.

Meeting girls here was a lot easier than it was at home, he thought. But then again, maybe it just seemed that way because he was drunk.

"What'd you think about Jessica?" Mike asked after turning the camera back on. He walked backwards while Jim talked.

"I don't know," Jim said; suddenly shy. "She was cute, she was really cute. I mean, she's almost a little too cute, with the tan and the really blonde hair, I've never really been interested in blondes, but she was nice, and you know, there's no harm sometimes in having a little fun..."

Jim's mind suddenly flashed back to that day when the office went to Dwight's dojo. He'd been messing around with Pam -- nothing more than usual -- but things got a little carried away, he'd lifted her off her feet, her shirt came up -- he felt her bare skin against his hands, and for a moment, he didn't want to ever let her go. But Meredith had turned to look at them and after Pam kept telling him to put her down... he shook his head, sighing aloud.

"What?" Mike asked.

"Hm? Oh -- nothing," Jim said. "Hey -- that place looks good."

---

Jim didn't drink anything at dinner. In fact, he didn't drink anything for the rest of the night. For some reason, that memory of Pam made him lose the desire to drink anything else that night.

They had stopped at a Greek taverna, and were sharing a saganaki appetizer. Upon igniting the cheese, everyone around them cried, "Opa!" which strangely made Jim feel a little less alone at that moment.

Mike had set the camera on the seat next to him. He should have been filming right now -- his employment contract stated that he was supposed to have the camera on the subject the entire time they were together -- but his shoulder was starting to hurt, and he really felt bad for Jim. The guy was a wreck. "Are you going to call Jessica?" he asked.

Jim's head snapped up, as if he'd been interrupted. "Hm?" he said. He yawned widely, covering his mouth.

"Are you planning on calling Jessica - the girl that gave you her number?" Mike asked again.

"Um, I don't know," Jim said. "Maybe. I mean, I suppose I don't have much to lose, do I?"

Mike shrugged. "Probably not," he said.

The dinner arrived, and they ate in silence. Jim's head was heavy. The alcohol definitely had something to do with it, but that image of Pam -- holding onto her, his hands against her flat, smooth stomach ... He dropped his fork onto the plate. "Can you excuse me?" he asked. He got up and went to the men's room.

He relieved himself quickly, and washed his hands, looking at his reflection as he did so. He never really found himself to be particularly attractive, but he wouldn't call himself ugly, either. Dwight certainly had them all beat in that category - if they were talking about goofy-looking people. Still, he wondered what it was that made that Jessica girl give him her phone number. He pulled the napkin out of his pocket again, staring at her handwriting. It was big and loopy, exactly what you'd expect from a blonde named "Jessica." He contemplated throwing it out. What did he really need with a girl like that? He wasn't from around here. Then again, she knew that -- she probably wasn't looking for a commitment. She'd said it herself, "I'm just a girl that likes to have a bit of fun, y'know?" What was wrong with a little fun? He was available. Pam was getting married... in a matter of hours. She wasn't and would never be the love of his life. He breathed out through his nose, hearing the air as it cleared his nostrils.

He'd call her tomorrow. Maybe they'd just ... have a little fun.

---

Pam was surprised how well she slept on the plane. She normally slept very badly on flights, but given the lack of sleep she'd had the last few nights, and the fact that she was on the plane for 14 hours -- well, that certainly helped. It was easy to sleep, and she found herself ensconced in a series of odd dreams, all of which involved one or more of her coworkers.

She dreamt about Dwight asking her to marry her. That was probably the most disturbing. Especially when Dwight gave her creepy googly eyes and tried to kiss her. The best part of the dream was when Jim walked in on Dwight trying to kiss her and punched Dwight out. Dwight fell quickly, his lumberous body crumpling to the floor. Jim gave her that look -- that look he had probably given her a thousand times -- that look that she realized meant, "I would do anything for you."

She dreamt about walking in on Jan and Michael having sex. Hm - maybe that was the most disturbing one. Something about Michael, hairy and shirtless -- ewww. It reminded her of that scene from the movie Office Space when the main character, Peter, imagined his boss having sex with his girlfriend. Ugh. Michael naked --- just --no.

She dreamt about Kelly and Ryan getting married. When she looked down at Ryan's foot, she saw a ball-and-chain attached. Then she looked down at her foot, and felt another heavy ball-and-chain attached to her foot. When she turned to her right, she saw she was holding hands with Roy. She tried to run away at that point, but the ball was too heavy for her to move. Roy kept asking, "What's wrong?" in that stupid, clueless way he was so good at. She wanted so badly to get out of there. That was the most vivid and involved dream. She looked across the crowd and saw Jim, his arm around Katy. He was giving her a kiss on the cheek. She called out his name, but he wouldn't look at her.

The last dream was she and Jim sitting on the rooftop at Dunder-Mifflin. And, like that one night when Michael had taken out that client, Jim and her were sitting on the rooftop, eating some of his "famous" grilled-cheese sandwiches. This time, though, they were lying on a blanket, looking at the stars. Jim was feeding her bites of sandwich. And every time his finger hit her lips, she just managed to overcompensate and suck on his finger for a second. She tasted the bitter sharpness of his fingertips, generously licking her lips each time he went to get another bite. When the sandwich was gone, he reached over and kissed her -- slowly and deliberately, his tongue flicking in and out of her mouth, dancing with hers -- he tasted faintly like toast and cheddar cheese and wine -- they'd been drinking wine, too. (Why on the roof of Dunder-Mifflin? Who knew?) And she rolled over on top of him and they kissed some more. His lips were tender and soft, so soft -- the gentle touch of his full lips made her want him more -- she kissed him harder, shoving her tongue deep into his mouth, leaning her body into him, feeling him slowly come alive down below, which made her want him even more.... he kissed her neck, moving down her sternum, her back starting to arch...

That was when she woke up. She felt ... weird. Pam sat up quickly, looking around her. The person sitting next to her was still asleep. She was suddenly extremely grateful for having an aisle seat as she got up and almost ran to the bathroom.

Jim slept late the next day. He woke up with a massive headache. Yesterday was a drinking nightmare. He rolled over in the bed, realizing he had gone to sleep with his clothes on, and the bedcover barely turned down. He sat up and looked at the clock. 10:30 AM. That would be -- what the fuck, I have no idea. He had no idea what time it was back home. The only thing he knew is that Pam was probably married by now. Married. Damn it all. Stupid fucking Roy. Stupid Jim for falling in love with an unavailable woman.

He got up slowly, licking his dry lips. When he looked out the window, he saw the expanse of Sydney in front of him, framed under an overcast sky. The weather wasn't perfect, but it would still be a great day to get out and actually do something. He'd promised his mom that he would buy her a boomerang -- so, yeah, he had to find one of those -- he should probably get something for his dad and little sister, too. Maybe he should get something for Roy and Pam, too -- a wedding present.

Ugh. The thought of that suddenly made him sick to his stomach. He sat down again until the nausea went away.

No thinking about Pam today, he thought. It was time to move on. She was married. It was over.

Fortunately, he was interrupted from his thoughts with a loud knock at his door. Scratching his head, he opened the door to Mike's camera lens - in his face.

Damn it. "This is not really my best face," Jim said, his voice still heavy from sleep.

"Time to rise and shine, buddy. It's a new day, and you're in Sydney!"

Mike was just a touch too cheerful for him this morning. Jim glared at the camera. "Can you give me a half-hour? I need to take a shower ... why don't you go get some breakfast?"

Mike shrugged and headed out. "I'll be back in a half-hour, on the dot!"

Jim thought: Maybe I could sneak out. He didn't want to get Mike fired, though. For better or for worse, that damn documentary was a part of his life. Sometimes he wished that film crew had never come to their office. ---
Mike stopped in his room to drop off his camera and noticed that the message light on his phone was blinking. He called the voice mail number.

"Mike, it's Jeff. Sorry I didn't call you earlier, but this is big news. Pam Beesly, the girl from the office who was supposed to get married -- called off her wedding, and, she's on her way to Sydney as we speak. This is unbelievable -- I can't say I'm not jealous -- this should be pretty good.

"Anyway, make sure that you don't miss her. She already knows where you guys are staying at. Leave her a message at the front desk, telling her where you'll be tonight. Her flight left at 11:30 PM yesterday from New York. If my math is correct, she should be there this afternoon. Call me tonight after you're back in your room; let me know how everything went."

Mike hung up the phone and sat down on the bed. Holy crap. This was big news.

He dashed out of the door and headed out to the lobby. He wanted to make sure he got the message to her before she checked in.

You just couldn't plan something like this.

---

Jim was toweling off his hair and glancing through the brochures he'd picked up in the lobby when he heard a knock on the door. Sure enough: one half-hour on the dot.

He opened the door to Mike, camera in hand. He was wearing about the biggest shit-eating grin that Jim had ever seen. "What happened to you?" he asked. "Did you go out after we got back and get lucky?"

Mike shook his head. "I'm just looking forward to a day in the city. And look - I was thinking, we should probably go to that bar in the hotel tonight - the Peppermint Lounge - it looked pretty nice."

Jim raised his eyebrows. "I knew you had some kind of secret rendezvous going on. Who's the girl?"

Mike rolled his eyes. "No one, I just thought it might be fun, maybe you'll meet some interesting people."

"I already met someone who was fun..." Jim pulled the napkin out of his pocket. He decided to take it with him in case he wanted to call her. "I might call her again tonight."

"You know," Mike said (trying desperately to sound casual), "maybe it'd be better just to play it by ear. You're on vacation. Have some fun. See who else you meet."

"Yeah, have fun." Jim smiled. "That is what vacation is about. Let's go check out the city, then." Jim looped his camera case into his belt and they headed out for the day.

---

Pam's plane arrived in Sydney at approximately 11:15 AM on Sunday, June 11th. She would have been married for six hours now if she had stayed back home. What a strange feeling that was. She got off the plane, feeling disorientated. It was odd being alone in a strange city.

Her stomach turned in knots as she realized how close she was to being next to Jim again. She still couldn't believe she'd actually traveled halfway around the world to find him. All she wanted to do was go to the hotel and find him. Unfortunately, they had to wait twenty minutes for the baggage check and then another two hours to go through customs. By the time she was out on the curb, it didn't take her long at all to find a city cab. "Crest Hotel, please," she said, barely shutting the door as the cab took her. She looked down at her hands in her lap. They were shaking uncontrollably.

---

The hotel was near a subway, so Mike and Jim took a train to one of the nearby shopping areas so he could walk around and try and find a gift for his mom. He was surprised as they were walking towards the subway how many people handed him cards for escort services and phone sex lines. Was all of Sydney like this? Was someone trying to tell him something?

---

She arrived at the hotel, surveying the front as she pulled up. It didn't look like a bad place -- with the marble columns and brass-plated doors. She surveyed the street, noticing a lot of people handing out flyers and calling cards. It reminded her of the time she and Roy had gone to Las Vegas for a long weekend. She took a long, deep breath and walked into the lobby. What if she ran into Jim in the lobby? What would she say to him? What would he say to her? She wasn't sure if she was ready for that.

She looked around, and decided there was no point in getting worried about seeing him. It was still the middle of the day - he was probably out exploring the city. She stepped up to the front desk to check in.

When she told the check-in agent her name, the girl told her that she had a message for her. She handed over a sealed envelope. Pam looked at it curiously. Who would have left her a message? Maybe her mom - telling her to be careful. Or maybe wishing her good luck. She smiled nervously as the girl checked her in - the only thing she wanted to do was to find out what this message said.

Once the girl had handed over the room key, Pam almost ran to the elevators. While waiting for the elevator to arrive, she ripped open the envelope, full of anticipation.

The message was printed on embossed stationery. It said:

Message for Pam Beesly, Hotel Guest
Received Sunday June 11th, 9:34 AM, in person

Please meet Mr. Halpert at the Peppermint Lounge, inside the Crest Hotel at 9:00 PM today, June 11th.

- No contact name or return number provided

What was this? Her stomach turned wildly as the elevator bell dinged and the door opened. She got into the elevator, suddenly feeling short of breath. Did he know she was here? What was going on?

That didn't sound like something Jim would write. He would never refer to himself as "Mr. Halpert." She had the feeling Jim would have written something funny or witty. But who could have written it? Maybe Jim had called down to the front desk and asked them to leave the message for her. Even if he had, how would he have known she was coming?

Had her mom called him? Or maybe even Michael? (No, Michael didn't know she was going to Australia. Did he?) Maybe it was Jeff... that seemed to make sense. He had been the last person to see her and knew exactly where she was going. It would have been really easy for him to call Jim and let her know she was coming. If he knew, though, why wasn't he waiting for her now?

Maybe he didn't want to see her right away. Maybe he was still angry at her. She hadn't actually talked to him since the fight. What if he was still mad at her? Why would he still be mad at her? Because she hadn't called to tell him the wedding was off right away? She blew out a large breath. The elevator door opened to her floor, and she stepped out. Her knees felt weak as she pulled the suitcase down the hall. Oh, boy. Maybe I should have called him right away. She wanted to tell him what was going on - when she called his hotel from the airport, she wanted to tell him everything - but he wasn't there. And Jeff had been there. Somehow, she felt self-conscious about confessing her grand love for Jim in front of a perfect stranger. Especially over the phone. She felt like she needed to do it in person.

She wished she'd known who had left that message. She wished she knew where Jim was right now.

---

Jim and Mike ended up at a Korean barbeque buffet on Victoria Street, not far from the hotel. They decided to grab something to eat before getting ready to go out that night.

"So, really," Jim said, "who's the lucky lady you're meeting at Peppermint Lounge tonight? How do you think she's going to react to a man carrying around a camera all night long? Or maybe she's the voyeuristic type --?" Jim said.

"I told you, I'm not meeting anyone. I'm doing this for you. You need to expand your boundaries while you're here. Meet some different people. You never go out with the same person you meet the first night of the trip. It's bad karma." It was killing him not to tell Jim what was really going on. He really had to make an effort to keep a straight face. "I asked the hotel staff what was a good place around here for meeting people, and they suggested this place."

"Of course they did - it's in their hotel. They're just self-promoting."

"Well, nonetheless - we at least need to go and check it out. If you're not happy, you can pick the place we go to tomorrow."

"I thought this was my vacation," Jim said. "Sometimes I really feel like everyone else in my life is making my decisions for me. You know - Pam getting married. The offer for the job in Stamford. This trip to Australia --"

"You did decide to come here - you could have just gone to New York City, or Boston, or ..."

"All right, I get the picture," Jim said, scowling. "Man. I just can't believe Pam is married right now." He swallowed hard. "I guess I always hoped - even up to the end, that something would happen; that she would change her mind. I guess I was pretty stupid." He shook his head. Nothing on his plate looked appetizing to him anymore.

"Hey, man -" Mike said, "you never know. I mean... stranger things have happened. Something could have... uh..." Crud. Where was he going with this? He wasn't supposed to know anything. Shut up, Mike. Shut up.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jim said, looking up angrily.

"I don't know - I'm sorry. Why don't we just -"

"Yeah, let's go," Jim said. They dropped a few dollars on the table for a tip and headed out. As they walked down the street back to the hotel, Jim pulled out Jessica's number from his pocket. He wondered if he should try calling her. He wanted to call her - she was cute and laughed at his lame jokes ... a little vapid, maybe, but it's not like he was looking for a long-term relationship, right? Then again - maybe Mike was right. Maybe he needed to broaden his horizons a little bit. The bar would probably be full of attractive women. There were plenty of fish in the sea.

Why did he feel like the only one he wanted was 10,000 miles away? And married?

---

Pam had probably gone through every single outfit in her suitcase, trying to find something that would be appropriate. She had packed a few skirts and dresses in case they went somewhere nice, but nothing she owned seemed to look right. Everything she had seemed too plain - too dowdy. She'd never really been into fashion. In fact, she only went shopping twice a year when the stores had big sales. Since most of her time during the week was spent at the office, and on the weekend, she usually just wore jeans and t-shirts, she had no idea what to wear out to this lounge-club. She picked through everything again. She finally settled on a black skirt and a pink short-sleeve, scoop-neck top. She also decided on a pair of slip-on sandals with a short heel on them. It wasn't exactly sultry, but that didn't really describe her, anyway. She looked at her bare hands, feeling strange without the ring on her left hand. She hadn't been wearing it for the past three days, but it still felt strange. Especially since she was about to see Jim ...

She adjusted the necklace around her neck and looked at her hair. Right now she had it pulled up. She thought about taking it down. He'd never seen her hair down before. She almost always wore it up. (Mainly because it was easier to style that way.) Pam looked at the clock. It was only 7:00 PM. She wasn't supposed to be down there until 9:00 PM. She had plenty of time to make it work.

Pam decided to take a shower so she could wet her hair down and get it right. Her chest felt tight as she went into the bathroom. She had never been so nervous about anything in her entire life.

---

Jim glanced through the book on the bedside table that explained the "Hotel Services." This was mainly because he had already gone through the TV and hadn't found anything really worth watching. He was surprised how much television from the U.S. they got down here. Most of the "new" shows on TV were the ones he'd already watched months earlier. That was bizarre.

As he was flipping through the book, he came upon the page about the Peppermint Lounge. The blurb said:

One of Sydneys premier lounge bars, hidden away in Victoria Street Potts Point.

Offering an intimate and stylish cocktail lounge, with eclectic surrounds and a smooth mix of deep 'n funky house blended with electro 'n hip hop flavours produced by some of Sydneys premier DJs and live musicians.

He scanned down the page, past a bright picture of a purple cocktail in a martini glass.

Dress code: Smart. No street clothes (jeans, t-shirts, trainers).

Well, that was great. Jim looked down at himself. He was wearing jeans, a pair of running shoes and a "Scranton Basketball League" long-sleeve t-shirt. He knew he was going to have to change, but to what? He wasn't the type of person who went to "clubs." The nicest date he'd been on was bringing Katy to Hemisphere, a "modern" American restaurant near Scranton. The food was actually pretty good, but it was a little out of his typical price range. Afterward, they'd gone out to some martini bar nearby - a place he couldn't even remember the name of. He remembered thinking about how Katy had seemed to fit in too well there. He had been amused, thinking about bringing Pam there -- the artistic plating, the delicate wine glasses -- she probably would have been fascinated. Katy had almost seemed bored. Complacent.

Yet another reason why he and Katy had never really connected. Breaking up with her had been so easy. He realized - he just didn't care. He didn't like her; they weren't at all alike; he felt better being alone than being with her.

His mind drifted back to the present, remembering what he was doing. Trying to find clothes. He rummaged through his suitcase to try and find something semi-acceptable. He found a pair of dark gray dress pants and a lighter gray button-down shirt. He had brought it just in case he ended up going somewhere "nice." He hadn't expected that the second night, but oh well. The shirt needed ironing - he found an iron and an ironing board in the closet.

As he waited for it to warm up, he stepped into the bathroom to check his appearance. He probably should have gotten a haircut before he left town. His hair was looking a bit shaggier than usual. His bangs hung just over the top of his eyebrows -- usually a sign when it was time to get a cut. Not too much he could do about that now. Not like he had been worried about that yesterday, when he met Jessica.

He went back into the other room, pulling her number out of his jeans, which were now lying on the ground. He wondered again if he should call her. It wasn't like he had to listen to Mike. He could just tell her to meet him there ... Jim started to pick up the phone, and then put it back down again. Then again, if he asked her to come meet him, she'd probably want to sit there and talk to him all night again, like she had the night before. He held out his hands, as if holding imaginary weights. Too talkative,, the one hand went down, but cute, the other hand went up. "Hmm," he said aloud to himself.

He could always call her later, too. He had almost two weeks here. Mike's words kept echoing in his head: "You never go out with the same person you meet the first night of the trip. It's bad karma." What the hell was "bad karma," anyway?

Jim had once joked with Dwight that the tone of his voice was giving him bad karma, and he needed to speak in a higher pitch when making sales calls, in order to swing his good karma back into place. For some reason (Jim never understood why this always happened), Dwight believed him, and went on making sales calls in a high-pitched voice for about an hour, until Michael came out and asked him if he was gay.

Jim smiled at that memory.

He was about done ironing his shirt when the room phone rang. It rang twice, but when he picked it up, the person on the other end had hung up. That was strange. Maybe it had been a wrong number. Then, about two minutes later, as he was in the bathroom washing his face, he heard it ring again. This time, it rang three times, but by the time he picked it up, nothing. He checked on the phone to see if there was any way he could do some sort of a *69 prompt to figure out who it was that kept trying to call him, but it didn't say. He was about to call the front desk when he heard a knock at his door.

Jim went over and opened it up. In front of him was Mike, complete in a shiny black button-down shirt, tight black jeans and dress shoes. In his hand, Mike had a much more compact camera. It was about the size of a typical video camcorder. "What ... is up?" Jim asked, looking him over. "I ... don't know what to say."

"Man of the night, my friend," Mike said. He watched the viewing screen of his video camera as he scanned around the room.

"What's with the new equipment?" Jim asked.

"Easier to work with in enclosed environments, like clubs and bars. Records great under low-light conditions. These are the same cameras they use to film those scenes on the 'Real World' when the cast goes out for the night." Mike shrugged. "It's basically just a really, really expensive camcorder. Commercial-quality."

"If they're so much more convenient, while don't you use these all the time?"

"The battery life on these are really short - I brought two extra batteries just for the few hours we'll be out tonight -- and while the quality's pretty good, it's not as good as the regular equipment we usually use. Plus, these break really easily. I prefer the industrial-grade models for my usual work." He grinned at Jim. "You going to wear that out tonight?"

Jim had on a sleeveless undershirt, more commonly known as the "wife-beater" during their high-school days. His dress shirt was still laying across the ironing board. "No, I was ironing my shirt -- well, it's done, now."

"All right then -- put it on, let's roll."

Jim eyed Mike suspiciously. "You are so hot-to-trot right now. It's only 8:15. Where's the fire?"

"Nowhere. But, this place has a 2-for-1 drink special that only goes until 9 PM. So if we hurry, we can get a couple free drinks..."

"I thought you weren't supposed to drink when you work."

"That's a negotiable rule -- obviously. C'mon, Romeo. Get your shirt on, let's go."

---

Pam sat on her bed, staring at the phone. She had called down to the front desk to get Jim's room number, and so far, had tried calling him twice, to no avail. Every time she heard the line pick up, she hung up. Not like meeting him in person was going to be any easier. She fell back onto the bed, rubbing her stomach, which had started to ache again.

Oh my God, she thought, what am I doing?

This wasn't just like a normal meeting or a talk. This was another realm entirely. Within four days, she had called off her wedding, moved out of her apartment, and flown to Australia, all in the hope that Jim would take her. At this point, she wasn't sure what to expect. She hoped to God that he'd take her back. She had been so wrong; so stupid about everything...

She sighed loudly and willed her stomachache to go away.

---

When Jim and Mike arrived at the Peppermint Lounge, it was fairly dead, except for a group of people clustered around the bar. "I see there's a group of bargain-seekers like us," Jim commented to Mike, who had the little camera trained on him. He smiled crookedly, walking up to the bar. "I think ... we should go a little crazy tonight. Let's order martinis."

Mike smiled at Jim. "Have you ever ordered a martini in your life?"

"Have I ever had a martini? Absolutely..." He smiled back at Mike. "Well, you know ... once, with Katy." That made him go quiet. Katy. That seemed like ages ago.

"Who was Katy?" Mike asked.

"Um... some girl I dated for a while." Jim really didn't feel like getting into it, so he walked up to the bar and ordered two top-shelf dirty martinis for them. Jim really wasn't sure what a dirty martini was -- Katy had ordered all the drinks for them at the martini bar they'd gone to last year -- but he heard people order it before and it sounded naughty. Sophisticated. Everything that he wasn't.

He wasn't sure why he felt the need to be something so completely outside of himself that night. Maybe everything was finally coming to a head. Pam leaving him those messages ... knowing she was now married ... meeting Jessica last night (who was so not his type) ... and now here they were, in a fancy cocktail lounge. He started feeling dizzy all of a sudden, and steadied his hand against the bar.

The bartender delivered the slightly cloudy drinks in martini glasses, garnished with cheese-stuffed olives. Wow.

He headed back to the table Mike had positioned himself at. Mike was taking wide shots of the lounge area, and focused on Jim as he was walking back towards the table. Jim had a hard time not making the drinks spill. He couldn't figure out how people did this when they weren't sober.

"So, buddy," Mike asked, grinning like mad, "looking forward to a fun night?"

"Sure," Jim said, looking at Mike strangely. He took a sip of the drink and shuddered. Damn, these are strong. And olive-y.

"Good drink?" Mike asked, grabbing his and taking a sip. "Mmm, yeah."

Jim didn't want to ask because he knew it would be on camera, but he did anyway. "What's in these things, anyway?"

"You ordered it, you don't know?"

Jim shrugged. "I've always heard of a dirty martini, but I never knew what was in it," he said sheepishly.

"Well, they made this with vodka, dry vermouth, and then they put olive juice from the tray into it. That's why like call it dirty. A regular martini just has olives in it, not the juice."

"You are just a wealth of information," Jim said, grinning, forcing himself to take another sip. That would teach him to try and be adventurous. Stick with what you know, Halpert.

"I bartended for extra money when I was in film school. Anyway," Mike said, changing the subject, "what do you think about this place?"

"It's kind of dead now."

"Well, it's still early. Trust me -- things will definitely get more interesting soon."

When Jim looked over at him, he was almost sure Mike had winked. But then again, it was dark and hard to tell with his face blocked by the camera's view-screen. Jim shook his head, taking another sip of the martini.

---

When Pam opened her eyes again, she saw it was 8:55 PM. That wasn't good. She was supposed to be at the bar by 9:00 PM! She jumped up quickly, smoothing out her skirt, and ran to the bathroom to check her appearance one more time. She looked different with her hair down. Her face seemed smaller, and strangely, it made her look younger and more carefree. She smiled tentatively at herself in the mirror, imagining what it was going to be like when they finally met again. She wondered what Jim knew. Did he expect her? Would he be happy to see her?

She cleared her throat, and after smoothing out a few flyaway hairs, headed out of her room.

---

It was just before 9 PM, and since he and Mike had arrived at the bar, they had already consumed two martinis and Jim was now working on a beer. The buzz was just started to set in and he was feeling good. He surveyed the bar, which was starting to become more crowded. A couple groups of girls walked in. They clustered together on different sides of the lounge, in front of the dance floor. Right now, the music was subdued chill music - not really dancing music. He watched as a particularly curvy girl in a tube dress (nice ass, he thought) went up to the DJ and started talking to him.

Jim watched as she stepped up into the booth and started leaning in very closely to the DJ. Jim turned to Mike, who, sure enough, had his camera focused on the pair at the DJ booth.

"Those guys must get so much ass," Mike said. He turned the camera to get a reaction shot from Jim, who just raised his eyebrows and made a face.

"Yeah, I imagine," Jim said. "I certainly wouldn't know."

Just then, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Jim turned around to see an attractive brunette with wavy hair. Looking at her vaguely reminded him of Pam. Everything reminded him of Pam. You have got to stop that.

"Uh, hi?" he said to the girl.

"Hey," she said, smiling slyly. "My friend Nikki over there -- she really thinks you're cute."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" he asked. He smiled widely, causing the brunette to start laughing, and Nikki (in the background) to cover her face.

"Yeah... if you wanted to come over and chat, that'd be cool," the girl said.

Jim looked at Mike with wide eyes. This was like hanging out with Kelly and her friends at a bar. Jim smiled sideways, looking over at Nikki. "Maybe I will," he said to Nikki's friend.

---

Pam entered the lounge, immediately feeling her stomach sink into her feet. Oh, God. What am I doing? The lounge was not that big. She was afraid to look around - she was afraid to see Jim - she wasn't sure - Oh my God there he is and ---

He was talking to some brown-haired girl with beautiful, wavy hair down to her shoulders. She had a great figure and was wearing an outfit to compliment it. Jim was laughing and touching her arm.

She swallowed hard. Maybe this was a huge mistake. Did she make a huge mistake?

That was when she saw the cameraman, sitting next to Jim. He was holding a little hand-held camera, and as soon as he caught her looking at Jim, he immediately turned his camera on her. Just when Pam thought she was getting away from that...

She watched Jim as he continued to talk to the girl, laughing, smiling, leaning into her and looking over at her group of friends in the corner. Had he already met someone while he was here? She felt like she just wanted to run away, but at the same time, she was rooted in the spot she was standing, watching Jim flirt with this beautiful brunette, knowing all the while, every single second of this horrible moment was being recorded on video. Forever. She swallowed hard again, and turned around. What was she doing here, anyway? How was it any of her business to follow Jim all the way down to Australia, anyway?

---

Mike had been filming Jim with the attractive brunette next to them when he suddenly felt like someone was watching him. He looked to his right near the entrance, where he saw a pretty, but plain-looking girl watching them intently. Mike swung the camera around wildly (he probably shouldn't have had those two martinis), and zoomed in on her. Was this Pam?

He immediately began jabbing Jim in the side, trying not to be obvious, but honestly - if this was Pam? - oh, God. This was a pivotal moment here.

Jim sounded irritated. "Cut it out, Mike."

Mike continued to poke him until he finally turned and said, "What?"

Jim looked at Mike and then at the camera, which was looking at the back of a young woman who was headed out of the lounge. Jim could only see the back of her - but what he did see was a mass of brown curly hair, a pink shirt, and a black skirt. Was that --?

Jim swallowed quickly and got up, running across the small room. It didn't take him long to reach the entrance, but she was already out the door by the time he got there. He caught up to her halfway down the hall, grabbing her shoulder, and swinging her around. When he realized that it actually was Pam Beesly he was looking at, his mouth went dry.

He gaped at her for a second, lost for words.

She stared back at him, equally surprised.

Neither of them said anything for several seconds. Jim looked at her -- her hair was down -- she looked unbelievably beautiful. More beautiful than anyone he'd ever seen in his life -- she was radiant. Her hair had a sheen to it and it cascaded over her shoulders and framed her face, making her appear even more delicate than she usually did. Her eyes were moist as she looked at him, her head slightly tilted. He watched as she breathed deeply, and licked her lips twice. Her lips pressed together as she looked at him - into him. His chest ached, and everything suddenly went out of focus.

"Pam..." he started to say.

That was all she needed. She rushed into his embrace, looking up at him with tears streaming down her cheeks. Without saying anything, she stood up on her toes and pressed her lips into his, holding his face in her hands. He quickly responded, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her more tightly to him, leaning down into her as he felt the warmth of her body and the smooth, sweet taste on her lips. His tongue flit into her mouth, quickly, which incited an even greater need inside him to feel her close to him. He never wanted to let her go.

She was the one who pulled back eventually, stepping back down onto flat feet, and looking up at him. Her hands were still on his cheeks. "Jim," she said. "I ... am so sorry... for everything."

He looked back down at her in disbelief, his cheeks moist as well. "Why?"

She shook her head, her chin and lower lip starting to shake. "I was wrong; I was so wrong, and ... I didn't mean to cause you all that grief - I mean, I made you go to Australia, and now you're leaving for Stamford and I was so stupid and I'm so sorry..." She was sobbing now, starting to fall out of his grasp.

He clutched her more tightly and led her over to a bench on the side of the hallway, where they sat down.

"It's not your fault, Pam," he said, gently pushing the hair out of her face, and stroking her cheek.

"I know, but I made you do all those things because I was so stupid... I didn't get married," she said, and started sobbing all over again.

"You didn't ..."

"I called it off two days ago," she said, struggling to speak between breaths.

"Why didn't you... you didn't tell me... I saw your messages..."

"I know," Pam said, starting to cry more. "I know, I know. I couldn't ... I couldn't tell you over the phone, people were watching me, they were always filming me and then I didn't know if you were going to be mad and I just wanted to tell you in person and I hope you're not mad because it was so hard and I was so scared..."

"Of course I'm not mad," Jim said, taking her cheek in his hand and turning her to look at him. "I told you before, Pam, I love you. And..." He swallowed, struggling not to cry again. "I will always be in love with you; I couldn't be mad at you, especially not with you... here..."

She fell against his shoulder, crying some more, but now, more out of relief than anxiety. He held her tightly, resting his head on her shoulder. The camera focused on his face as he rested on her. The smallest, but most meaningful smile emerged on his face.

---

"Well, I never thought I'd say this, but I'm actually looking forward to coming back to Scranton." Jim smiled as Pam and him sat hand-in-hand at the cafe in the Crest Hotel. Behind them, people were lined up for the breakfast buffet. Jim and Pam were happy just to sit there, drink some coffee, and enjoy each other's company.

"Me too," Pam said, smiling at the camera.

Mike smiled back at them, balancing his usual monster-of-a-camera on his shoulder.

Jim continued: "I called Jan and asked if I could call off the transfer, and thankfully, she said okay. They had not hired anyone to cover my position in Scranton, surprise, surprise -"

"Michael interviewed a lot of people from what I hear, too. I wonder why he had so much trouble finding someone," Pam said, smirking.

"I don't know - maybe his stand-up routine act that he does during interviews scared everyone off." When Jim had initially interviewed for the position, Michael had insisting on showing Jim his burgeoning stand-up act.

"I'm a master of comedy," Michael had said, going into a barrage of horrible, offensive jokes. Anyone with half-a-brain would have immediately walked out, but Jim had been hard-up for a job ... and seven years later, here he was, going back to the same 'ol. He looked over at Pam, who looked up at him with bright eyes. She smiled widely at him. He didn't regret his decision for a minute.

---

Dwight sat straight up in his chair after Michael had come out of his office, revealing the 'good news.' He looked around and then directly at Michael. "What do you mean, Jim's coming back?"

---

END