-----

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

----

Author’s Note – I know this may have been done before, so hopefully you’re not bored with it. This idea came to me as I was in the middle of another story that is no longer being written.

Title from Kelly Clarkson’s “All I Ever Wanted.” – I don’t own that either. I do enjoy listening to it though.


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He has to keep reminding himself that it was not his fault. None of it. It could not be controlled only by him. The company was in jeopardy for a long time before he took over as Vice President. It was inevitable that it would be bought out by a bigger and better company with a stronger name – Sabre. And it was even more foreseeable that they would clean house, sever their ties with the upper management of the company that had been run into the ground.

Three years ago he had taken that job in Manhattan, shoving the queasy feeling he had in the pit of his stomach away as he signed the contract. Pretending that the note he found with Pam’s handwriting scrolled on it meant what it said, ‘don’t forget us when you’re famous’ implied don’t forget the Scranton branch, no other meaning behind the word ‘us.’

The world was in his hands back then. He filled his new apartment with things he never could have afforded on a salesman’s salary, bought a new car and dined at the nicest restaurants.

For three years he was at the top of his game socially, meeting celebrity after celebrity, gorgeous woman after gorgeous woman. Apparently Karen could not handle his new status, which Jim found peculiar since she was the exact person who pushed him into believing he could become better than what he had been. They fought constantly about everything – when he did not want to go out, she pouted. When he did want to go out, she pouted. It was never ending and exhausting trying to keep track of her whims.

Truth be told, if he sat and reflected, which he had time a plenty to do now – unemployed and back living in the town he grew up in, Karen never accepted him, no matter which version of him he chose to be.

He never wanted to be that guy – the one with a new girl every weekend. But when Karen left for snow covered greener pastures in Utica two years ago, that was who he became.

The good thing, he assumed, about being back in Scranton was that he could leave the schmoozer behind, and find who he used to be. The irony of the entire situation was not lost on him. He found it amusing that he was in his thirties and still trying to figure out what version of himself he wanted to be.

It was not that he had an identity crisis. But in a way, it was.

There was a definitive void in his life, and there was only one woman in the world that could fill that void. He tried, though. He had to give himself some credit for at least trying to replace her in his heart. He attempted to be less in touch with his feelings and his gut reaction.

He could not have realized it at a more inappropriate time that he could never replace the things he felt for Pam. The problem was he had no idea where she was, if she was still in this town or if she moved away. The day he accepted the job and called Dunder Mifflin Scranton to relay the good news was the last time he spoke to her.


“Hey, I can’t talk long, but I just wanted to let you know that I took the job here. I start on Monday.”

“Oh. Um, congratulations.”

“Thanks. So I’m sure I’ll be calling in on Monday morning. We can talk more then.”

“Yeah, sure. Um, good luck with everything. Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Pam. I’ll see you next week probably. Okay, gotta go.”

“No, yeah me too. Take care of yourself.”



For the past three years he pretended he did not hear the hurt in her voice, the sniffle of her nose, or the slam of the phone receiver ringing in his ears.

That Monday morning, his first assignment was to give the okay to Michael to hire a new receptionist.

The times he had visited the office or his family, they never ran into one another. He was careful not to ask anyone in the office if they had heard from her, afraid that word would somehow make its way back to Karen that he was asking about Pam, of all people.

For all of Karen’s good qualities, the one he had liked the least was her jealousy. The amount of time and effort it took to convince her that he was over Pam and done with that time in his life, all of it seems like such wasted energy now. At that point though, he believed in his own mantra, that in order to forget a memory, you have to replace it with a new one.

To this day, he finds himself still searching to replace that memory – though he has attempted it twelve times over. The thoughts of Pam and all of the things she signified for him – best friend, soul mate, the woman he wanted to marry from the day he met her, all of those feelings managed to stay at bay while he was in New York.

It was not all bad, he knows. With the array of complimentary tickets to an inordinate amount of events at his fingertips, he really could not disqualify his time spent there as a completely useless expanse of time.

If he wanted to see a baseball game, he was granted tickets in seats he could not otherwise afford, even on his own Vice President’s salary. He could nit pick however, both New York teams being no lesser of two evils. He would forever be a Philadelphia Phillies fan, hating the Yankees because it was the thing to do, and hating the Mets because they were in the same division as his prized Phillies.

He went to see advanced screenings of motion pictures, watched Broadway plays, attended concerts at Madison Square Garden and perused museums. To any outsider looking in, Jim was having the time of his life. He pretended he had not wondered if Pam had ever been to the Museum of Modern Art, or if she was still involved in art at all.

Eventually, the pretending worked. All of the memories floated away in a sea of his past life.

And now that he sits on the sofa he had to buy from a second hand store, his third beer crossing his lips, those memories come rushing back like a tidal wave.

He is back where he started, the past three years seemingly never having happened. Alone once again, in an apartment that echoes his voice when he coughs. Back then when he started out as salesman and became best friends with and subsequently fell in love with her, he thinks that time may have been better than now. At least then, he was able to afford the good beer.

At least, back then he had a friend.

Now, the only people he has are the family members that still speak to him – his parents, brothers and sister. If he could turn back time, he thinks, alienating his friends for a new city and a brunette was quite possibly the biggest mistake he had ever made.

He is grouchier now, that is for certain. He tries not to show it in his outward demeanor, especially since in this small town, one never knows if you’re encountering the person who will be sitting behind a desk interviewing you next.

Eventually, he figures the will to go out to a bar will surface. The need to socialize will come back once he gets a job again. The severance package was not much. Clearly to him, Sabre could not justify giving a decent amount of money to former upper management of the company they bought out

Heaving a sigh, he puts the empty beer bottle in the trash as he goes for another one, only to find he just finished the last bottle. Tomorrow’s another day, he thinks as he heads to bed for the night, trying to move away the nagging feeling that seems to have taken permanent residence in his gut.



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He woke with the spring sunlight washing over his face through the blinds of his bedroom. As the symphony of his hangover thumped through his temples, he swore once again that he would not drink in excess. He needed to turn a new leaf, get his attitude back to positive, attempt to get rid of the negative energy that seeped in two months ago when he was fired.

Today he decided was the day he started getting back to who he used to be - the outwardly positive goofy guy who never took himself as seriously as he had been recently.

He decided to go for an early morning bicycle ride, moving the still unpacked boxes that surrounded his bike out of the way. With no real destination in mind, he rode around the neighborhood for a while, passing his old high school and his old office. He stopped in front of the building that used to house Dunder Mifflin and glanced around the empty parking lot. Nothing had changed about the façade, but something about the place felt different to him.

He never wished himself harm, he was certain that he was not that far gone into an elongated state of depression. But as he looked around the empty spaces, he wished he could erase his memory completely. He wished that he could have afforded to stay in New York City, where nothing spurred his reminiscence of the last time they spoke to one another. As soon as he stepped from his bike on to the asphalt, it was almost like he could see it happening in front of his face.


“Hey. Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“So, did the weekend manage to heal your burned feet?”

“Yeah, sort of. I just, you know, I meant what I said, Jim. I miss our friendship.”

“I know. Me too. It’s like you said, we’ll always be friends, right?”

“Yeah. I hope so. I want to be. So you’re really going for that job on Thursday.”

“I am. It’s a big step, I have to at least try.”

“Good luck, I’m happy for you. I guess it beats staying in Scranton for the rest of your life, right? Before you know it, your name will be in the news. You’ll be famous.”

“Something like that.”

“I should go in. Before Dwight pulls out the stop watch.”

“After you.”



He continues his ride, cycling through a nearby park, allowing the things he tried to forget back in. He can still remember the smoothness of her hand as it brushed his on the way through the lobby door. His senses can still dig up the scent of her lingering perfume as it wafted past him as she moved through the air. He can still remember her laugh, the sweet way it sounded, the way it would make his day just to hear her laugh or see her smile.

The laughter so engrained in his brain, he almost missed it.

“One more spoonful and we go on the swings, okay?”

He gawks, the unmistakable sound of the voice he could never forget.

“Come on, sweetie. One more. You love this stuff.”

He stops his bicycle, slides to the ground on his feet, watches the small child shake his head, the tiny Phillies cap falling to the ground. He watches her bend down to pick it up, sees her eyes move in his direction for a split second. She gives a second glance toward him before she blinks and turns back to the child. He sees her hands furiously trying to gather things and put them in a diaper bag. He takes steps forward toward them, his legs very much like jelly.

He tries to find his voice; the reality of seeing her in the flesh ate his words and his ability to verbalize any thoughts.

All of the things he could have done, wanted to say, should have acted on, they all waved around his mind as he watched her walk out of the park, never turning back.



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


Author’s note – Sorry for any confusion I caused. I had another story in mind initially, and then this story sort of morphed out of that one, so I’m going with this one for now. I may revisit that other one once I’m done with this idea.


---





If he could muster the energy to even consider why he does the things he does, his line of questioning would be unending. Why had he hesitated, instead of charging through the park after her as she pushed a stroller?

A stroller. A baby in a stroller. She has a baby. How did this all happen?

He still can’t wrap his head around any of it. He still can not for the life of him figure out why he is standing there, his feet planted on dirt, his legs surrounding his bicycle, his hands tight around the handle bars.

His eyes keep losing her as his mind drifts, ignoring the onlookers, parents and children staring at him as he stands there, his eyelids stretching and his forehead creasing.

It has been three years, he tells himself. Three years since he walked away from her and this town. Three years since he took a job he was never meant to have. Why would seeing her for a split minute before she took off do this to him – make his heart race and pound in his ears.

He finds her again, his eyes like magnets to the back of her head. He can not be sure what propels him forward, what makes him do something this crazy – glutton for punishment, some sort of instability of his mind. He can’t expect her to ever want to talk to him again, no matter how many times they swore they would always be friends.

There was always some bitterness underlying though, the way they would say the word friends. He knows she wanted more. He went against every single instinct he ever had and left.

Twice.

How could he expect her to stay and chat?

He has the option of turning toward his new apartment, going about his business and maybe being an active job seeker for once. He could have gotten on with his life, the way she had. Just walk away. Again. Just let her be, let things go the way they were supposed to – she goes her way, he goes his.

But he is absolutely mesmerized by her, by the child he caught a glimpse of, he can not do anything else but follow close behind her, wait for her to go inside so he can catch his breath.

He walks up the path to her door, his sneakers tapping the pavement, sweat dripping from his forehead.

At a step before her door, he wishes he had gone home, showered, made himself more presentable.

And as she stands there, hand on her hip, an expressionless face and a toddler gripping her leg, he thinks maybe he should have stopped for flowers, or some other sort of peace offering.

Like maybe cake or ice cream, or a new car.

She stares at him, her eyebrows raised and her lips curled into a pucker.

“Hi,” he says, breathless and embarrassed. “I’m, um, not really sure …” he trails off, looks down, his eyes meeting the bright blue eyes of the toddler. He kneels down to child eye level. “Hi, what’s your name?”

“Jack.”

“Hi, Jack. I’m Jim.”

He extends his hand toward Jack. The child recoils, hiding himself behind Pam, his small head peeking over the side of her leg.

“He’s not super great with strangers,” she says evenly.

“Oh, yeah, I guess, I’m one of those,” he says sheepishly.

“To him yeah. You are.”

“Right. How,” he stammers, “how have you been?”

She grins, reaches for Jack, lifting him into her arms, and says, “I’m good, thanks.”

“Yeah, good. Good,” he says awkwardly. “Me too.”

“I didn’t ask you,” she smirks.

“Oh, I know, I just, figured,” he pauses and then mumbles, “I’d say it.”

“Well, thanks for stopping by, Jim.”

“I know you’re mad, and I can’t blame you. I’ve been mad at myself for years.”

She rolls her eyes, a smirk still on her lips. “Yeah, was that before or after you started,” she pauses, puts Jack back on the floor, waits for him to scamper away before she whispers, “sleeping with every girl in the tri-state area?”

His heart sinks, reminds him of the way he felt when his parent’s found those magazines under his bed. “I guess that news gets around fast. But it wasn’t like that, Pam. I swear.”

“It doesn’t matter, really. You don’t owe me any explanation. I mean, when I first heard about it from Kelly, I was a little surprised. But then I looked back on who you used to date, and figured that was what it was.”

He shifts his feet, hates that he’s caught off guard, hates even more that he can’t come up with a reasonable explanation to his previous actions. “Can I maybe come in?”

She stares at him for a long moment, he expects her to shake her head, to tell him to leave, shove him out the door and back out of her life.

When she steps to the side, her arm sweeps in front of her allowing his entrance, he breathes easier. Just a little bit.

“We have a lot to talk about.”

“Eh,” she shrugs. “I don’t think it matters, really.”

“Oh,” he says.

“Yeah, I mean, we worked together, we were work friends. Yeah, we got together sometimes on the weekends, but that’s all it was. Work friends,” she says, in a soft tone that betrays her words.

“That’s not all it was,” he defends adamantly.

She shrugs, draws her attention to Jack as he toddles toward her. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Jim.”

“Maybe,” he says, his sinuses clogging, “maybe we can catch up before we just say things don’t matter anymore.”

“What should we catch up on?”

“Well,” he points toward Jack, kneeling down to his level once again. “Where did this little guy come from?”

She kneels on the other side of Jack, running the palm of her hand over his head. “He’s sort of a wanderer.”

“Hmm?” he hums, tilts his head to the side.

“His,” she pauses, directs her attention to the baby. “Jack, do you want to show Jim your favorite toy?”

“Okay,” Jack nods excitedly and bounds from the room.

They both stand, facing one another. He wants to make a joke about her mismatched socks. He thinks now would not be a good time.

“So, he’s a wanderer?”

“Yeah, I try to use words he doesn’t understand yet. He’s only one and a half.”

“He’s really cute.”

“Thanks. I had nothing to do with it, but thanks.”

“So, he’s not yours?”

“I’m hoping one day he will be. I won’t bore you with the details. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

He shakes his head, knows that he shouldn’t point to the fact that he has nothing to do at all. He knows the reaction won’t be a pleasant one from her. “I want to catch up, like I said.”

“Why now?”

“Why not now?”

“Look, Jim, I just,” she pauses. “I have a lot going on right now.”

“And you don’t want me involved. I get it.”

“I know you’re only in Scranton until something better comes along. Again.”

“I wasn’t planning on leaving. I’m looking for a job here.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure if you see something in, like, Philly, or somewhere, you won’t take it.”

“What makes you say,” he stops, watches her knowingly glare at him, her head tilted to the side. “I guess my track record says that.”

She nods, shrugs as Jack runs back into the living room, a big red bear in his hand.

“This is Phil,” Jack says, holding the doll up over his head.

“Wow,” Jim laughs, a smile forms. “He’s almost as big as you.”

“I’m a big boy. Mommy, can I have juice?”

“Sure, sweetie.”

“He calls you mommy?”

“I’ve had him since he’s six months,” she says, walking toward the kitchen as Jack sits with his toys.

“What happened?”

She rolls her eyes, clears her throat. “I’m his Godmother. His mom was in a bad car accident when Jack was six months. She had a heart attack while she was driving. She was in and out of the hospital for almost a year actually, before she had a massive heart attack and passed away,” she says quietly, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. She clears her throat and continues. “When she was between her first set of hospital visits, she asked me if I could look after him, unofficially, because his father was sort of out of the picture back then. Four months ago he decided he wanted to be a father to Jack.”

She stops speaking as Jack walks into the kitchen, happily asking, “Jim, play trains with me?”

“Sure,” he responds without thinking, “I’d love to, buddy. You go set it up and I’ll be right there.”

“Okay,” Jack nods, his attention focuses back to Pam. “Wow, that’s. I’m sorry, that really sucks.”

“Yeah,” she agrees quietly. “So, his dad wants him now, and I’m trying to fight a losing battle to keep him here and not uproot his life for someone who Jack never met before.”

“I’m so sorry, Pam,” Jim says, holding his hand on her shoulder.

She winces, shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. I mean, I really don’t want pity.”

“It’s not pity. Is there anything I can do?” he asks.

“No. Come on, really, Jim. Don’t worry about us. We’ll make it through, whatever way this thing goes.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that this isn’t something you need to concern yourself with,” she shakes her head, moves toward the living room and hands Jack his cup. “So, I heard you got fired. Sorry about that.”

“Yeah,” he says, shuffling his feet. “It’s for the best. Where are you working now?”

“They’re not hiring,” she says bluntly.

He’d like to think he would have laughed at that, had the temperature in the room not been set to subzero. “You know me so well,” he tries to joke.

“I’m working in the art department at the University of Scranton right now. I think eventually, once this whole situation with Jack settles, I’ll finish getting my teaching degree.”

“That’s great,” he smiles genuinely, stopping himself from pulling her into a hug.

By the look that crosses her face as she thanks him, he thinks she wants him to.

“I hope everything works out with Jack,” he says, his eyes fixed on the toddler. “He looks like a good kid.”

“He is.”

“Jim, play,” Jack says, waddling over toward Jim.

Pam takes Jack’s hand in hers. “Sweetie, I think Mister Jim needs to go, okay? Can you say goodbye?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Jim stammers, caught off guard. “I’m sorry I have to go, but I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Jack says, going back to his toys.

“It was really good to see you, Pam,” he says, inching toward the door.

“Yeah, you too. Good luck with everything,” she says, her eyes fixed on the floor, her hands fussing with her hair.

“Maybe we can go grab coffee tomorrow?”

“I, um,” she fidgets on her feet. “I have plans tomorrow with this guy that I’m seeing. But yeah, maybe we can do that before you leave town again.”

“Oh, y-you’re seeing someone?” he stammers.

She nods, purses her lips and holds the door opened, “Bye, Jim.”

His choice of responses falls flat as the door clicks behind him. He stands at her doorstep, tries to stop the shaking in his legs and the spinning in his head. He wants to turn around and tell her he’s not planning on leaving Scranton this time.

Instead, he gets on his bicycle and rides the short distance back to his apartment.

He wonders if she felt this way. If she felt the bone crushing loss when he came back from Stamford and told her he was seeing someone. He wonders if she said it to him to see his reaction, the same way he had done it to her all those years ago.

He sits in front of his laptop, looks half heartedly at the job listings, sends his resume out to a few companies in Scranton and in Philly without really thinking before he realizes what he’s just done.

He knows they’ve been playing this game for eight years. This cat and mouse, he did this she did that, I said this you said that back and forth volley ball game.

He showers before the board of health comes after him, finds his keys and gets into his car.

The game has to end soon, whether she likes it or not, he vows silently.


---

---


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

---

Author’s Note: So, here’s the latest. I was going to stretch this out, but I’ve been given the feedback that I’ve written Pam a little too harshly. Hopefully this chapter can make up for that and redeem this story. Thanks for reading.




With all of the things he knows about Pam, the one thing he is absolutely completely certain about is that she can not stay mad at him for too long. That’s how they were, and as he stands at her doorstep for the second time in less than eight hours, he hopes to anyone who can hear his silent muttering that that’s how they will be, how they can be, and how they should be.

The one thing he notices, instantly, as she opens the door, is her red rimmed eyes underneath glasses he’s never seen her wear before.

He inhales, pausing for a moment as she stands there, gawking at his presence with her mouth quirked and her hand aimlessly pushing her hair behind her ear.

“Hi,” he says, lifting the large box into his arms.

“What is that?”

“Legos. The big kind, so he won’t swallow them. I checked the age, one and a half and up.”

“Wow,” she gapes.

“Can I come in? It’s heavy, and I haven’t worked out in God knows how long.”

“Yeah, sorry, yeah come in,” she says, moving to the right.

He walks a few steps and sets the box near the entertainment shelf, turns to look at her as she closes the door. “Where’s my new little friend?”

“He’s taking a nap. He should be up in a little bit,” she says, kneeling in front of the box. “He’s going to love this,” she looks up with a small smile. “Thanks.”

“So,” he says, puckering his lips. “Does he like pizza?”

“Yeah,” she nods, standing up, folding her arms across her chest.

“Maybe we could go to Chuck E. Cheese for dinner tonight?”

“What?” she asks. “Jim, you really don’t have to do this.”

He takes a liberty he doesn’t think about, and unfolds her arm and leads her to the sofa. “Okay, see, here’s the thing. I’m not doing this because I have to. No one’s forcing me; no one’s holding a gun to my head telling me to do this.”

She nods, opens and closes her mouth, shakes her head and asks, “Do you want something to drink? I have milk, juice, coffee or tea.”

“That’d be an awesome combination if you put it together,” he jokes.

She let’s out a laugh, the sound of it as it hits his eardrums is like a song. “That’s definitely something we should’ve given Dwight, way back when.”

“Yeah, we could’ve convinced him that it was some sort of power drink for his Karate or something.”

She bobs her head as she snorts a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. “Such a huge missed opportunity.”

“Oh, without a doubt.”

He holds her smile with his own for a quiet moment before he speaks again. “You look really nice with glasses.”

“Thanks,” she grins. “Oh, so did you want anything?”

“No, thanks, I’m good,” he nods slowly, stares at his feet for a moment before looking into her eyes. “Look, I don’t know anything about the law or custody or anything, I mean, I barely know how to take care of my own life. But I’m here, for whatever you need.”

He watches a look cross her face, her eyebrows crease between her eyes, her lips purse as she sits silently. She takes a breath, he braces himself for some sort of wrath that should hit him at some point, send him back outside, back to his apartment and lonely jobless life.

Whatever her response would have been is cut off by the sounds of the baby waking.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, motioning to stand.

“Right behind you,” he says, following her toward the small bedroom. A large navy blue J hangs from the wall, a changing table and a crib bookend a window. The walls are covered with dark brown leaves over a lighter shade of brown paint.

“Hi, sweetie,” she says, lifting Jack into her arms. “Look who’s here?”

“Hi buddy,” he says, moving toward the pair as Jack lays his head on Pam’s shoulder.

“He’s still waking up,” she explains, rubbing her hand over the baby’s back.

“You know, I don’t know why you ever thought you wouldn’t be good with kids. Look at you, you’re a natural.”

She scoffs, “Yeah, you should’ve seen me last year. Complete and total disaster. But we got through it.”

“I would never have guessed,” he says honestly. “I mean, I haven’t really seen you in action for more than a few minutes, but you look like you have it all under control.”

“I, um,” she hesitates, her eyes roaming his face. “I could always use another set of hands.”

He holds up his hands and grins.

She nods, returns his grin and hands him Jack. “Sweetie, you remember Jim.”

Jack nods, a smile lights up his face.

“Hey buddy,” Jim says, taking the baby into his arms. “Now, let me show you this awesome thing I bought you,” he continues, walking toward the living room. “They’re Lego’s. You can make anything you want with them.”

“Okay,” Jack says, uncertain.

“Sweetie, can you say thank you to Jim?”

“Thank you,” Jack says sweetly, putting his head on Jim’s shoulder, his small hand grasping the side of his neck.

“You’re welcome,” Jim says, hugging Jack before he places him on his feet. “So, do you want to play with these?”

Jack shakes his head. “Books?” he asks with a grin.

“You want Jim to read to you?” Pam asks.

“Yes.”

“Can you say please?”

“Please books?”

Jim laughs. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Jack claps and runs over to the book shelf, standing in front of a bunch of children’s books, his hand on his hip as he scans his options.

Pam stares at him, an incredulous look crossing her face. “I have so many questions,” she says with a smile.

He silences her with a sideways glance. “Jack, later we’re all going to get pizza, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you,” Jack replies without turning around.

“That is the most polite child I’ve ever met,” Jim muses.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to teach him please, thank you, you know, all the good manners things. I still can’t get him to chew with his mouth closed though.”

“That’s a guy thing, Pam. We’re genetically incapable of eating like civilized human beings.”

She laughs, her hand tapping his bicep lightly. “I think I’m used to it. I had lunch with you for years.”

“That you did,” he agrees. “So,” he says, taking a chance. “Tomorrow, I’ll swing by and maybe we can set up this Lego village for him.”

“I think he’d really like that.”

“Oh, so no date?” he asks as he follows Jack to the couch, helping him with the four books he picked out. “Wow, Jack, we’re going to be busy for a while here.”

“He loves his books. And um, no. I um, sort of,” she pauses, fidgets with her finger nail. “I sort of made that up. I’m sorry.”

His chest loosens, relief sets in and he opens a Dr. Seuss book as Jack settles in his lap. “Cool. Then we can go over some other stuff tomorrow too.”

“Yeah,” she nods, seating herself next to Jim as he begins reading. “Sorry, about before. I mean, I have a good reason, I think, to have been annoyed with you.”

“You do, and I know exactly what it is,” he says, leaning over. “Kelly lied to you. I never told Ryan anything about you and me. I said no comment.”

“Oh,” she nods, pointing to the book as Jack looks on expectantly.

“Yeah. Oh, and by the way, this child is good with strangers, liar.”

“Actually, he isn’t. It’s all you. I think he likes that you get down to his eye level.”

“That’s how you talk to kids.”

“Jim,” Jack says, tapping his finger on his knee. “Read me.”

“Sorry buddy, okay here we go. Green Eggs and Ham,” he begins, annunciating slowly.

As he reads, he glances toward her, watches the smile play across her face.

It’s not a grand profession of love and adoration, but for now, he knows, it will have to be good enough.

When they return to Pam’s apartment after dinner at Chuck E. Cheese, he can’t help but feel at peace when she locks the door behind them, kicks off her shoes and picks out a Disney movie to play. And when Jack falls asleep in his arms, he wonders how he did not have any of this yesterday, wonders how he survived without it.

---

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


-----



He hates that the second he wakes up there is a grin on his face, pulling at the muscles of his jaw. He hates that he feels better today than he has in months, or years. He hates that all he can focus on is getting back there, to Pam and Jack, the minutes ticking away faster than his body can respond to the fact that it is no longer sleeping.

He hates it all because of all of the things he should not have done, being away from her for three years – four, he thinks, if you take into account he was not fully back when he returned from Stamford. He hates it all because he knows he should have been here and not in Manhattan pretending he know what he was doing. For pretending he gave any type of care or consideration to his job title, his status, or how highly people thought of him.

Most of all, he hates himself for having one singular conversation with Ryan. At the time, he thought he had done the right thing by deflecting Ryan’s comments and insinuations. He never thought in a million years that Pam would find out about it, let alone find out a misconstrued version of it.

If Michael had needed less supervision, he thinks – knows, that that conversation would never have taken place. No matter how innocently he spoke, he should never have justified Ryan with a response.

Hey, man. How’s the big city?”

“It’s good. Hey, how are your sales coming? Any good projections? Closed any deals yet?”

“I’m workin on it. I have a spread sheet of all the numbers, so I’m good. So, how’s Karen?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her. She’s in Utica. Oh, so if you need any help with leads, just talk to Michael, or I’m sure Dwight or Phyllis would be happy to help you make your first sale.”

“Ah, I get it. Hot brunette business women not your type. You’re more of a receptionist kind of guy.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna answer that.”

“Hit it and quit it, that’s what the way you play the game.”

“No comment. Send me a copy of your sales projections.”

“Right, will do.”

That that conversation turned into something completely different when Ryan passed it around the office like it was some sort of tray of cupcakes is something Jim never saw coming. It was during a run in with Kelly in the kitchen a few weeks later that made him feel sick to his stomach for days.

”I never thought you would hurt Pam like that. I mean, how could you, Jim? Do you know how upset she was when I told her?”

“What did you tell her?”

“That you have a thing for receptionists and that you wanted to see if you could get her into bed, and then you were going to dump her.”

“What? How? Where? How? You told her that? I said no comment, nothing else.”

“Why would Ryan lie to me, he loves me, Jim. He would never do that.”

“Yeah, well, the next time you see Ryan, tell him I want to speak to him about his sales numbers.”

“You can’t fire him. He like has a ton of bills to pay. I’ll kill myself.”



He can distinctly remember the twenty seven emails he tried to send her. He can still see himself opening and closing his cell phone, his thumb hovering over the send button for hours that led to a habit he carried around for weeks before he finally did it, ending up with an operator telling him the number was no longer in service.

He decides the first thing he has to ask for is the new number.

The second thing he knows he needs to accomplish today, aside from finding matching socks and a clean shirt, is to get them both over the past.

He knows it would be a lot simpler if she did not have this notion that all he was out for was to get her into bed and then vanish.

The real issue he knows is that saying it to her is not going to mean anything to her. He has to show her who he really is, how he really feels and how much he wants to commit himself to her.

He is completely aware that grand gestures with flowers and candy and chocolate hearts won’t make up for any of it.

Standing at her front door empty handed, calling himself a fool for not at least bringing her some sort of thing.

He forgets to be mad at himself for it when she opens the door with a wide grin.

“Good morning,” she says, waving him inside.

“Jim!” Jack exclaims from his highchair in the kitchen.

“Hey little guy.”

“You made quite an impression on him,” she says, takes a mug from a cabinet and fills it with coffee. “All he’s been saying is Jim, book, Jim, book.”

He grins, his hand smoothing over the light brown flecks of hair on top of Jack’s head. “You really love those books, huh?”

“Oh, he does. He also keeps slapping his hand on the Lego box and he hops really fast. It’s my new favorite thing he does,” she says, placing the mug of coffee in front of him.

“I have to see that,” he says, sipping coffee. “This is great, thanks. Even has that sprinkle of cinnamon you like so much.”

“Yeah, old habits die hard,” she says. “So.”

“So. I um, I was just wondering if I could have your new cell phone number?”

“Sorry, Jim. No booty calls,” she smirks snidely.

“Okay, I deserved that. Seriously though? You’re going to believe something Kelly said?”

“It sort of helped,” she shrugs.

“How could that be helpful?”

He thinks he knows why. He waits silently as she sits, fiddling with her finger nail, silence spreading over as the seconds click by.

“I’m here all day,” he says, raising his eyebrow.

“It helped me get over you,” she says in a rushed breath. “The more I believed it was true, the easier it was to forget about everything.”

He shakes his head, hearing her say it jostling his brain. “I, um.” He clears his throat. “Do, do you,” he pauses.

She nods, shrugs and crinkles her nose.

“Do you think you can reverse the process?” he asks, not sure exactly why he used those exact words.

“What? The getting over you? Honestly?”

“Yeah, honestly.”

“I never wanted to in the first place,” she says, her eyes burning into his.

He stands, walks over to her chair, kneels in front of her and pulls her into a hug. He wants to ask if it’s okay to hug her, but when her head falls to his shoulder, he holds her tighter.

He knows he can’t pull back and kiss her yet, not just because Jack is a captive audience, but because he can not take the chance that she’ll pull away.

He hopes maybe she won’t some day.


--


“So,” he begins, sitting on the floor, attempting to place the final pieces of Lego’s in place. “What do you guys usually do on Sunday’s?”

“Not much,” she shrugs, adjusting herself on the couch as she watches Jack wander around the room with a bear. “He likes the park, so in the afternoon we usually go there, go on the swings and feed the ducks. After that we usually come back here, he takes a nap and I make some sort of dinner.” She shrugs again, grimacing. “Yeah, I know, not super exciting. I bet you like, see a show, go to a fancy dinner, or wander around the city at night with your girlfriend.”

“Actually, I think your day sounds great,” he says, trying not to get flustered. “I hated that place. Really. It was filled with so many annoying things. And, if it rains, the place literally gridlocks everywhere.”

“Yeah, I’m sure New York City is such a hole.”

“It’s not as great as you think it is. People are rude, won’t give you the time of day.”

“Oh, stop. I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“Oh but it is. I asked someone for the time once and they gave me the finger.”

Her laughter fills the air, her head thrown back and her hand covering her mouth.

“I’m serious. It scarred me.”

She smiles, giggling lightly. “Come on, it’s the best city ever and you know it.”

“It’s really really not. Once I wanted a salad. They have these salad bar things where you add the toppings. It cost me fifteen dollars. And I didn’t even get a soda with it.”

“No, you’re lying.”

“I’m serious. Apparently they charge for ever single topping.”

“I think you learned a valuable lesson.”

He nods. “Yeah, don’t live there.”

“It couldn’t have been all bad.”

“I did get to see a few Yankee games.”

“So, there you go,” she says, extending her hand.

“I hate the Yankees,” he says emphatically.

“I know you do.”

“Oh, hey maybe one day this summer we can take Jack to see a Phillies game?”

“Um,” she says, hesitating. “He’s not really going to understand it, aside from the fact that he may not be here by then, so I’m trying not to make too many plans for the future.”

“Oh,” he says quietly.

The struggle to find other words to fill the silence in the room were suddenly filled with Jack laughing as he tapped his small hand on the box the Lego’s came in.

When he tries to put his head into the box, Jim is the first to reach out his hand to correct him. “Hey, that’s a bad idea,” he says, removing the box.

The crying that follows breaks his heart and leaves him helpless on how to fix it. His eyes find Pam’s sympathetic stare. “You did the right thing. It’s okay if he cries.”

“Okay,” he sighs. “Hey, Jack,” he says trying to distract him. “Look at what this can do.”

He takes a Lego car and drags it in a circle. Jack instantly walks over and sits on the floor next to Jim and holds his hand out.

“Can you say car?”

“Car.”

“What sound does the car make?”

Jack stares at him, his cheeks still wet from his tears.

“It goes, vroom, vroom,” Jim says, tickling Jack’s side, eliciting a gleeful giggle from the baby.

He shows Jack how to move the car, and tentatively moves Jack’s hand when the car heads toward Jack’s mouth. “No no, car stays on the floor.”

This time there are no tears.

“He trusts you,” Pam says from her seat on the couch.

“That was quick.”

“Yeah, he’s easy.”


--


“What are you doing on Tuesday?” she asks, holding one hand on the stroller as he wheels it.

“Probably sitting in front of my computer hoping it’ll create a job for me.”

“Yeah, it’s a tough market. Are you, um,” she hesitates, pushing her hair behind her ear. “Are you looking just in Scranton?”

He stops himself short of a nod when he remembers. “I um, I am, but I sent out my resume to a few places in Philly.”

“Oh.”

“I’m just going to ignore it, if they do call.”

She nods, takes her hand away from the stroller, her eyes focus on her feet. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“Hey,” he says, stops in his tracks. “I wasn’t going to tell you and just forget about it. But I know that if I don't tell you, at some point it’s going to come back to bite me in the.”

She interjects “Language.”

“Right. I probably won’t get a call anyway. And if I do, I'm not taking it. I just wanted to tell you.”

“No, I mean, it’s whatever you want,” she shrugs indifferently.

“So, what about Tuesday?”

“Um, you know, I forgot what I was going to say.”

“Come on.”

“No, it’s nothing, really. I um, sometimes I forget I shouldn’t make plans for the future.”

“It’s in two days.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “And who knows where you’ll be by Wednesday.”

“I’ll be here, I swear. I just wanted to be honest.”

She nods, points to the swings and takes Jack from the stroller, placing him inside one before she lightly pushes it. As his laughter resounds, he watches her as she wipes away a tear from her cheek.

He stands and stares at them, his hands gripping the handle of the stroller. He thinks he would like to have a good long talk with whoever said honesty is the best policy.

He hates that all of the headway that was made over the last two days was just flushed down the metaphorical toilet.

----

--

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

Author’s note: So this wraps up this story, I was going to go longer and write a lot more chapters and an epilogue, but I think this is a good place to stop. I hope to come up with something else in the future. Until then, I’ll happily be a spectator here.

---


He wakes up Monday morning with a freight train running through his head and a desert in his throat. After they left the park yesterday, she said goodbye without inviting him in. More than dejected, he went back home, sat on his couch and stared at some sort of sports show while drinking beer after beer. Once the six-pack ran dry, he turned to an unopened, and now almost completely empty, bottle of Jack Daniels. The mistake was staring him in the face, the name on the bottle only reminding him of what he lost, what he tasted for only a few short days, was completely lost because he could not keep his mouth closed for a moment.

He stares at his ceiling, time irrelevant, his eyes angry at the sun’s rays as they pour over him. There is no amount of self reasoning he can come up with that can completely explain why he chose to mention something like the possibility of an out of town job to Pam when he had no intention of taking it, let alone any prospect of being contacted by them. She did not yell, had not yelled in the entire two days they spent together, though she probably should, he thinks. He would rather she did that, would rather she just walloped him with whatever she was feeling instead of holding it in and quietly giving him bits and pieces of information.

Life was simpler when he was away, both times. And the answer to the question, why can he just get over this girl has no answer. He tried, got an E for effort, but something, some kind of quality or component or speck keeps pulling him back in, keeps sucking the life out of him every single time he looks at her, knows he wants more, knows there’s a chance she’s wanted the same thing for more than three years now, and he cannot figure out how in the world to fix it. To mend it and make it better and just be together, happy and secure and in love and do all of the things he always wanted to do.

And there’s a child involved now, not hers, someone else’s, and he’s been afraid to ask what exactly went on, how she became his guardian and not the woman’s family, how a father could deny that he has a son until four months ago. The whole story is a mystery to him, still. And the thing that kills him, aside from the beating of his temples, is that he wants to know everything. Still. Even after being shut out.

It was his fault. That he knows.

But, still.

There are so many things about their past he wants to recreate, put in a time machine and switch details, meet her when they’re in high school instead, a few months before she met Roy, and ask her out. Problem solved. No drama, no moving twice, no hating himself for loving her, nothing but love, companionship and a life together. That’s all he ever wanted.

Now, he watches the blades on his ceiling fan slice through the air, his bleary eyes find the clock on the night stand, his eyes widen when he sees that it’s well into the middle of the afternoon.

He has not slept this late in his entire life. And when he tries to sit up, the entire room swooshes around on an axis he never knew it had. He hangs his feet over the edge of the bed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, hoping that when he opens them, everything will be one gigantic dream and three years ago he stayed in Scranton instead of moving to Manhattan. That he asked her on a date instead of ruining what was left of their friendship.

Unfortunately, it isn’t. He knows it isn’t. He wouldn’t be hung over if it were. He doubts it would be close to three in the afternoon when he gets out of bed if this were all just a dream.

All he has left is one more chance. She asked him about Tuesday. He had to make it his business today to find out what she needs tomorrow. As crazy as it sounds, she is not the only one who has a hold on his heart. That little boy, with his big brown eyes and dark brown hair and the adorable smile, that little boy has his heart too. It was instantaneous. Jack isn’t Pam’s, not in the way genetics matter. But he is, in the way everything else matters.

He wants them both. He has little idea what is in store for them, if she can keep Jack or if she has to let him go to his father’s. Either way, for reasons unknown to Jim, he wants to be there.

When he shows up at her door, the words are on the back of his tongue ready to slide out, when she opens the door to reveal a man sitting on her sofa, wearing a business suit.

“Hi, uh,” Jim says, rubbing his chin. “I didn’t know you had company. I’ll come back another time.”

“No, no. Come in,” she waves her hand for him to step inside. “Jim, this is Jerry. Jerry, this is Jim. Jerry is Jack’s father.”

“Oh, hi,” Jim says, shaking Jerry’s hand. “Good to meet you. Where is the little guy?”

“Hiding in his room,” Pam says, biting the corner of her lip.

“Ah, may I?” Jim asks.

“Sure, yeah,” Pam replies with an emphatic nod.

He excuses himself with a polite smile and walks to Jack’s room, finding him sitting on the floor with a book opened.

“Hey, little buddy. What’cha doing?”

Jack’s face lights up, his smile wide. “Jim!”

Jim sits on the floor next to him as Jack stands and puts his small arms around him, burying his face in Jim’s shirt. “It’s okay.”

“Do you want to go to the living room?”

“No,” Jack replies, shaking his head. “Not want.”

“Okay. Want me to read to you?”

Jack nods, pushes himself back and sits down.

Jim lifts him, seats him on his leg and opens the book to the beginning and reads. Jack leans his head on Jim’s arm and puts his thumb in his mouth, his eyes closing as Jim reads along.

A few minutes later, Pam pokes her head in the doorway. “Hey, is he okay now? He ran inside his room crying as soon as Jerry walked in,” she said, walking closer to them.

“Yeah, seems so, he’s just resting.”

“Can you see if he’ll come inside, for like a minute? Jerry wants to meet him.”

“He never met him before?” Jim asks without giving thought to it being his business or not.

“No. Nice, right? I don’t want to leave him in there too long by himself.”

“We’ll be right there.”

She turns and takes a step before turning around. “Thanks, Jim.”

“You’re welcome.”

Without knowing what to do first, he finds Jack’s security blanket, drapes the blanket over his back as his head rests on Jim’s shoulder. “Okay, now, I know this is going to be a lot for you. Do you think if I hold you we can go inside?”

Jack lifts his head and turns it to the side.

“Okay, sorry. We go inside?”

Jack shakes his head.

“I’ll hold the whole time, I promise.”

“Not go, Jim.”

“We play cars and we’ll have cookies, okay?”

“Okay,” Jack answers skeptically, his eyes big and round.

“Who wouldn’t want to know this kid,” Jim mutters as he kisses the top of Jack’s head and takes a breath before walking toward the living room.

He uses his eyes to tell Pam not to make a big deal out of Jack being out of his room. She moves her head down slightly in agreement as she offers Jerry something to drink.

“Actually,” Jerry says, “I should run. I have a business trip I have to get ready for.”

“You travel?” Jim asks, sitting in front of the Lego village.

“Yes. I’m usually gone two days a week.”

“Then who would watch Jack?” Jim questions.

“I’d have a nanny take care of him full time.”

Jim nods. “Sounds logical.”

He hopes the guy does not speak sarcasm.

Luckily, it flies over Jerry’s head. “Yes, well. I have to work. Have to pay for my mistakes with something. You know what I mean?”

Jim purses his lips, fights the urge to punch Jerry and brings his sole focus back to Jack.

“Well, I better go,” Jerry says.

“Oh, I’ll walk you out,” Pam says from the entryway of the kitchen.

He’s too busy wondering how someone could call their own child a mistake, not even bother to try and interact with them and still want to have custody of them, to notice that Pam takes a while coming back inside. He stands and moves to the window, watches the scene below through the blinds.

He watches Pam talk as her hands move through the air, sees her bow her head, shake it a bit and watches Jerry walk away.

Her arms come around her as she lifts and lowers her shoulders before she walks back inside.

He wants to move away from the door before she comes back inside. But all he can manage to do is stand there with his hands in his pockets and wait for her to walk back inside, keeping one eye on Jack.

She walks inside, her brow creased at the center, her lips look like she ate a lemon, and her eyes are watery.

“He’s dropping the case,” she whispers. “I have to sign something, just,” she gapes, gasps and covers her face. “I have to sign an adoption form and he’s mine.”

“Wow,” he says, moving closer to her.

“I should be happier. I am happy. I’m just. He didn’t even say hi to Jack. Didn’t even try to. How do you do that? Walk out of someone’s life and back into it and expect them to just drop everything and run to their arms. And then it turns out, he didn’t even want him. He just told me, he said if I was okay with handling his mistake, then he’s all mine. He’d have his attorney contact mine. And everything. But,” she pauses, shakes her head and looks up to meet his eyes. “How do you call your own kid a mistake?”

He shakes his head and shrugs.

She walks over to Jack, lifts him in the air, kisses his cheek and tickles his side, eliciting giggles from the baby. “I love you, sweetie.”

“Love mommy,” Jack replies. “Love Jim,” he says, waving to Jim.

He laughs, walks over to them and puts his arms around both of them, kisses his cheek and hers without much thought.

“Congratulations,” he says, running his hand over her arm.

“Thanks,” she says, smiling.

“Anytime. And, hey, I’m sorry about yesterday. I really didn’t mean,” he pauses, tries a different tactic, a different kind of honesty that if he doesn’t say will eat him alive. “Pam, hey, let’s sit,” he points to the couch. She nods and follows, carrying Jack with her.

“Want cars mommy,” he says, sliding from her lap.

She smiles and helps him down, and then turns her attention to Jim.

He takes a breath and then says, “Look, I know I can’t make up for the past. I want to, believe me. All I want to do is go back to like, 1995 and meet you then, and have four kids with you right now. I want everything to just be different back then.”

She laughs, a flitting sound in the back of her throat. “We’d be a little behind, you know, if you were hanging around this time.”

“I am. I promise. I swear to you I’m not leaving this place. I may never leave this apartment again, if that’s what it takes to prove it to you.”

She tilts her head to the side. “Why would you do that?” she says it almost coyly.

“Because I love you. And I can’t stop loving you and I won’t ever stop loving you.”

“What if you didn’t see me on Saturday? What then?” she asked.

“I don’t care. The important thing is that I did. I am so in love with you I can’t function. I’m like this half a person, and as pathetic as it sounds, I can’t live without you. I tried. I can’t do it. I don’t want to.”

Her finger crosses over his lips as she smiles, her voice choking. “I love you too. I tried to stop too,” she says, inhales and continues. “I tried to tell you, before you took the job, I tried. But you didn’t hear me.”

He takes his finger, outlines the side of her face with it, his thumb sweeps across her lips before he leans in and kisses her.

The fireworks that go off in his head as her arms fold around his neck are bright and colorful and he can see now, this is the right path, the one he should have taken years ago.

He pulls back, holds her cheek in his hand and they smile. “I love you,” he says again.

“I love you, too,” she replies, hugging her arms around his shoulders.

---