Pam realized about thirty seconds too late that Jim wasn't going to rescue her from this.

She had been fine (a bit nervous, maybe, but okay) up until that point.  She had smiled as she walked up the aisle on her father’s arm, she had smiled a little when he had lifted her veil and kissed her cheek, and she had smiled as Roy took her hand in his and they turned to face the minister.

She had smiled because none of this was really real.  At any minute, something would happen.  She would wake up, or there would be an earthquake, or something would occur to put an end to the whole business.

Or maybe Jim would show up and put a stop to everything.

She hadn't even realized that she had been hoping he would—had been counting on it, in  fact.  But when the minister had asked if anyone present knew of any reason that she and Roy may not be lawfully wed, she found herself turning her head ever so slightly towards the back of the church, straining to hear the doors fly open, the sound of his voice.

Instead, all Pam heard was a muffled cough, a shuffle of feet, and silence.  The minister was halfway through the scripture reading before it finally hit home to Pam—this was really happening.  This was not a movie, this was not a dream—the hero would not come racing up the aisle to carry her off in a blaze of glory.  Jim was on the other side of the world, and there was nobody here to save her except herself.

She began to panic.  Her heart was beating so hard—surely everyone there could hear it?  Why was the minister speeding through the program like this?  He was going so fast!  Everything was going so fast!  The blood rushed in her ears—she could barely hear the minister now.

Roy, standing tall and handsome beside her in his rented tux, must have felt the way her hand was shaking, because he gave it a quick squeeze and shot her a sidelong smile before turning his focus back to the minister.  Pam could only gape at him, horrified.  How in the world was he reassuring her?

This was not happening.  This couldn't be happening.

The minister was praying now.  Oh, god...the vows were next and she couldn't, she just couldn't, but how could she not?  She was here and she was trapped and there was no way out.  She was going to be sick...

Maybe she could sneak out while everyone's head was bowed?  If she could just maneuver her skirt...

But no, it was too late, the prayer was over and the minister turned to face her.

 Oh, god.  What do I do?  What do I do?  I can't.  I can't.  Please don't ask me...I can't.

And then the minister had asked her the question, and everyone was staring, waiting for her response.  Roy was smiling nervously down at her. The minister was gazing expectantly, his eyebrows raised above his bifocals.  She felt the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes drilling into the back of her head. 

And waiting.

And her silence was getting awkward now, and she could hear people shifting nervously in their seats.

She had to do something.  Anything.

A last desperate idea occurred to her, but it was ridiculous.  She couldn't do that.  The very thought was preposterous.  She tried to shrug it off.

But, oops, too late—she was already halfway to the floor.

It occurred to her as she fell that perhaps pretending to faint was not the most graceful way to make an exit from your own wedding.  Her voluminous white skirt rode up as she slipped down the risers, exposing a fairly indecent amount of leg and tulle for the world to see.  And her carefully coiffed hair was ruined beyond all repair.

But she just kept her eyes squeezed shut, praying that someone would stop Dwight before he was able to attempt mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

Despite, or really because of, the uproar in the church her collapse had created, Pam didn’t allow herself to “wake up” until Roy had carried her limp body out of the sanctuary and into a small dressing room nearby, where he deposited her gently on the couch.

Then she slowly opened her eyes, fluttering them a bit in an attempt to realistically portray the one came out of a faint.

“Pam, thank god.” It was Roy, who was kneeling next to her. Pam saw her parents hovering anxiously behind him, and Roy’s parents and the minister and the bridesmaids all crowding the room while trying to keep a discrete distance. They weren’t doing a very good job.

“Somebody get her some water,” her mother said to the crowd behind her. “Pam, are you okay, honey?”

“My head hurts,” Pam blurted.

Great. Not only was she a coward, but she was a horrible actress as well. ‘My head hurts?’ Really?

Nobody seemed to think that her response was odd, however. They buzzed around her, getting her a pillow, straightening her skirts, helping her sit up to swallow the small cup of water that Roy’s sister had brought her.

“Pam, what happened?” her father asked anxiously.

Pam clutched the cup close to her chest and kept her eyes cast down, finding it impossible to meet anyone’s eyes.

“I don’t know…I…”

And then the tears came.

“It’s okay, Pam,” said Roy, who was now sitting beside her with his arm around her back and a hand on her knee. “It’s not a big deal…”

“You’ve been under a lot of pressure, honey,” said her mother, coming to sit on her other side and handing her a tissue. “All this fuss about the wedding, and…everything. It’s no wonder it all caught up to you like this.”

Pam, sniffing, finally looked up to meet her mother’s eyes. Better than anyone, Carol Beesly knew exactly what kind of pressure Pam had been under. For a moment, the two women simply looked at each other, and then Pam knew her mother understood everything.

They smiled sadly at each other, and then Pam looked back down at her cup.

“I want to be alone with Roy for a few minutes, please,” she whispered.

Her mother stood immediately and started the process of herding the crowd out into the hall. Pam knew the gossip was already starting—she could hear the whispers. But she didn’t care anymore. Her mother shot her one last encouraging smile before shutting the door behind her, and then she was alone with Roy. Pam took a deep breath, and turned to face him.

It was the most difficult thing she had ever done.

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

It rained that night. A loud, crashing storm beat against the windows of the spare room in her parent’s house, and Pam was glad. It seemed only fitting that the weather should match her emotions. She was supposed to be sleeping—her grandmother had given her some of her pills—but Pam had just pocketed them. Instead, she was pacing back and forth, a cordless phone clutched in her hand, and trying to think about something other than the events of the past few hours.

It had been every bit as horrible as she had feared it would be, and then it had gotten worse.

At first, Roy had refused to believe what she was telling him, and then he had gotten angry. Really angry. She had humiliated him in front of all his friends and family, and Pam didn’t think he was ever going to be able to forgive her.

But his anger was nothing compared to his mother’s. When Pam had finally left the church with her parents after changing out of her dress and giving the guests time to be completely gone, she had found Mrs. Anderson lying in wait in the parking lot.

She had totally let loose, screaming in Pam’s face, her eyes bulging with anger. Pam had cowered back, completely shocked and too ashamed to retort. Thankfully, Pam’s mother had stepped in to defend her daughter, hurrying Pam into the back seat of their car and putting an end to Mrs. Anderson’s tirade with a few cutting remarks of her own.

Pam was crying again as they pulled away. She had never been able to build a close relationship with Roy’s mother—they had just never really clicked despite repeated attempts on Pam’s part to bridge the gap. Despite this, Pam had had no idea that the woman would be capable of unleashing such venom on the girl who had practically been her daughter-in-law for all these years.

When they had finally reached her parent’s house, Pam had been forced to face the family members who were staying there. Some were sympathetic and some were disapproving (although at least they tried to hide it), but they were all unwelcome.

Pam had finally found solitary refuge in this small bedroom where she had grown up. She locked herself in, determined not to open that door again for anything. She didn’t want to be around anyone right now, even her mother. She didn’t care if she saw another relative or friend or coworker in her life, with one exception:

Jim.

She longed for him to be here now. To hold her, to comfort her, to make her laugh. He was the only person in the world who would not judge her for what she had done.

But Jim was in Australia—had left two days ago.

She could call him. She knew the name of his hotel, had looked up the number on the Internet. It was the middle of the night here, that made it the middle of the afternoon in Australia—a perfectly decent time to call. This is why she was pacing with the phone in her hand. Even if he couldn’t be here with her now, at least she could have the comfort of his voice.

But something held her back.

Maybe he wouldn’t want her to call. Maybe he was over it. It had been a month now since that horrible night when he had confessed his feelings for her and she had rejected him—twice. Oh, why had she done that? She had been such a fool.

It had ruined everything—their friendship had been nonexistent from that point. Going in to work every morning had been torture, knowing that she had to sit there, only a few feet away from him but unable to make things like they had been again. One day in the break room, she had made a feeble attempt to joke with him about something Dwight had said, and Jim had just looked at her, his eyes dead.

“I'm sorry, Pam,” he had whispered. “I can't. I just can't.”

He had gone back to his desk, and Pam had escaped to bathroom, feeling as though she had received a dagger to the heart.

Jim had announced his impending transfer, and then had actually made the move the weekend before the wedding. When he came back from Australia, he would come home to Stamford.

Pam didn’t know whether to laugh or cry over the fact that despite all of this, she had somehow still expected him to be there for her today—to give it one last try. What a selfish little brat she was.

And that was why she couldn’t force her fingers to dial the numbers. She didn’t deserve him. Didn’t deserve his love. He had given her everything—for years, he had stood by and supported her, loved her, sacrificed his own happiness for her. And she had given him nothing but rejection and pain.

How many times had he listened in silence to her complaining about Roy? How many times had he done thoughtful little things for her just to brighten her day? How many times had he rescued her from Michael or Dwight and their insane demands?

And in return, she had flirted with him, used him, given him false hope until he got too close, and then she pushed him away, not caring if she hurt him if it saved her own conscience.

And then she expected him to show up at her wedding and risk it all again.

She owed him. She owed him more than a pitiful little phone call—“I didn’t get married. I’m sorry, I was wrong. I love you. Please forgive the last three years and come comfort me.”

He deserved so much more than that.

He deserved a grand gesture—something to really prove to him that she would make it all up to him if he would just give her time and one more chance. But what?

After only a moment’s thought, she knew what the answer was. The idea terrified her—what if he rejected her? It was a huge risk.

Suddenly, she hated herself. If she wasn’t willing to risk this, then she really didn’t deserve his love. Before she could second-guess herself again, Pam put the phone back in the receiver and sat down at her laptop. She would have to act quickly.

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

Two hours later Pam sneaked quietly downstairs, a suitcase in one hand and a bag over her shoulder. She headed for the kitchen to leave her note on the fridge, and was surprised to find the light already on. Her mother was there—fully dressed and nursing a cup of tea at the table. She looked up as Pam walked in and smiled.

“Mom, what are you doing up? It's four in morning,” said Pam.

Carol simply shrugged.

“I thought you might need a ride.”

Pam felt a wave of love and gratitude sweep over her as she returned her mother's smile.

“Thanks, Mom,” she whispered, tears welling up once again.

“Well, let's go. I'll explain to your father and everyone when I get back.”

Carol grabbed her purse and keys off the counter and they headed towards the garage together. As Carol opened the door for Pam, she asked, “Did you pack some warm clothes, honey? You know it's winter now in Australia.”

When Pam stepped off the plane in Sydney, all her courage was gone. Whatever source of strength she had been relying on to get her this far was completely drained—spilled out of her somewhere over the Pacific Ocean.

It had been over 30 hours since she had hugged her mother goodbye in Philadelphia. She had just spent an entire day crammed in among strangers, trying to distract herself with movies and music and books and sleep and anything to keep out the doubting voices in her head. As the flight had worn on and her nerves grew more frazzled, the doubting voices had started to win.

Now, standing among a throng of tourists and travelers at 6:00am local time (and who knew anymore what time her body thought it was), she felt totally lost. She was exhausted, sleep-deprived, and confused about what exactly she was doing there.

Why had she come? What in the world had possessed her? Jim didn't want her here. If he had wanted her, he wouldn't have left her in the first place—wouldn't have transferred to Stamford. He was obviously over her. The whole thing, this whole idea, was ridiculous. She was ridiculous.

She was tempted to just catch the next plane home.

Get a grip, Beesly.

She was just tired, and in no condition to make any kind of a decision. Pam closed her eyes and tried to center herself.

Okay. One step at a time. Customs.

Pam opened her eyes and looked around. There was the sign pointing the way. She hitched her bag up on her shoulder and started to walk.

Her bag hadn't been this heavy when she packed it, was it? She didn't think the pack of gum and magazine she had bought at LAX would have added so much weight.

Slowly she shuffled her way through the long line at customs. When she reached the front, the customs agent barely glanced over the American girl in jeans and a sweater and pony-tail nervously clutching her passport (which she had gotten three years before, in the delusional hope that maybe Roy would take her to Paris for their honeymoon.)

Once through, Pam started walking again. She walked for what seemed like forever before she finally saw signs pointing her to the lower level and baggage claim. Gratefully, she stepped onto the top of the escalator, glad for the chance to stand still for a few moments.

She couldn't ever remember feeling so tired. All she wanted now was to get to the hotel and fall asleep for hours. But she still had miles to go.

A painting on the wall over the escalator caught her eye. The modern swirl of lines and colors entranced her, and she didn't drop her eyes until it became awkward for her to crane her neck so far back.

When she finally lowered her gaze to the floor below, her heart stood still.

Jim.

Was there.

Standing there, waiting for her.

Waiting for her with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, a shy, anxious smile on his face as he lifted his eyes to hers.

Pam nearly stumbled at the bottom of the elevator, her brain completely preoccupied with the sight before her. Someone bumped her from behind, and she realized she was just standing there, frozen. She had to move. Somehow, her feet carried her slowly across the floor.

She stared up at him, at a total loss. What came first? “I love you?” “I'm sorry?” “What are you doing here?” She had had it all planned out on the plane, but now her carefully constructed words had flown away in the joy and sheer terror of actually standing there and facing him.

And his eyes, his eyes were so beautiful. So kind and warm and alive as he gazed down at her, no longer smiling but tense with barely contained emotion. Twice before he had looked at her like that, and like before, it made her feel like she could barely breathe.

“Hi,” he whispered then, and reached out to brush a lock of hair back from her forehead. She closed her eyes, savoring his touch.

“Jim,” she breathed.

And then he was kissing her. He was kissing her and her eyes were closed and his arms were tight around her, pulling her close and her hands were in his hair, and his lips were soft and warm, and she knew nothing else, nothing else but this.

They just stood there in silence for awhile, holding each other close, too overcome with emotion to speak. For now, just being together again was enough. Pam rested her head on his shoulder, loving the way his cheek felt on hers, how warm he was, how good he smelled.

“Welcome to Australia,” he whispered in her ear, and Pam couldn't help but laugh with him.

“How did you know I would be here?” she asked.

“Your Mom,” he answered simply. “Michael called me about five seconds after your wedding was called off. And then I got another call from Kelly about ten minutes later. Then Phyllis. Everyone called but you, Pam. I tried to be patient but then I finally gave in and called your parents' house yesterday, and your Mom told me you were coming.”

“Are you...is it okay that I'm here?” Pam already knew the answer but she wanted to hear him say it, anyway.

“What do you think, Beesly?” Jim smiled down at her, and then kissed her again.

After a moment, Pam pulled away. There was something that needed to be said before another word was spoken.

“Jim,” she said, her hands resting against his chest as she looked up at him. “I wanted to tell you...to say I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything...”

Jim just shook his head.

“No, it's okay. You don't have to...”

“Yes, yes I do,” she said, determined. “I've been horrible to you. I've been mean, and such a coward, and I know I hurt you so many times...”

“What about me?” he interrupted her again. “I'm not exactly blameless, Pam. I should have told you how I felt a long time ago. I should have told you from the very beginning, and not one month before your wedding. I never should have let it get to that point.”

“But I...”

“Pam, stop. Let's just forget it, okay? Maybe we both did things we regret but we can't go back and change it. It's just...all that matters is that you're here with me now, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered, still silently determined to make things up to him.

“Okay then.”

“But I do have one more thing I want to say and then I'll shut up, I promise,” she said.

“What's that?” he asked, smiling down at her with mock exasperation.

"I love you.”

His face crumpled oddly, almost as if her words had hurt him. “Pam,” he choked, and then he was crushing her to him, kissing her with such passion that she felt her knees go weak beneath her.

*******

When they finally made it to baggage claim, her suitcase was the only piece of luggage left on the carousel. They held hands in the back of the taxi all the way into Sydney, grinning at each other the entire way. The cab driver, grumpy on the early morning shift, thought they were both a couple of idiots.

When they got to the hotel, Pam found that as tired as she was, she still had energy enough for some things.

And then she finally slept, safe and warm and content in the arms of the man she loved.