'In French, you don't say 'I miss you,' - 

you say 'Tu me manques,' which means 

'you are missing from me."

Three long weeks had passed.

Three long, bitter, alcohol-fuelled weeks had passed since he had put his heart on the line and had all his hopes crushed in one soft, subtle shake of the head and a gentle whisper. Twenty-one days had slipped by since he'd last stood in Scranton surrounded by people he cared about, watching them all be unashamedly themselves in all their oddness as he lost half of his savings to her. Five hundred and four hours had dragged on, flickering past with images of her standing there by his desk, softly shaking her head, and telling him 'no', her eyes brimming with tears and her lips slightly puffy from kissing him. Thirty thousand, two hundred and forty hours, and still his heart hammered in a broken beat that he couldn't ignore, traitorously still beating to the rhythm that Pam had set for him.

Three weeks of Hell.

Sitting alone in the small cramped apartment he was renting, Jim found himself nursing a glass of scotch, swirling the amber liquid round and round, watching it splash against the sides of the glass. His hazel gaze remained fixated downwards, not really looking. He despised looking at his apartment - the bleakness of the grey walls, the two rooms and the boxes piled high, just waiting for him to unpack them. The static of the TV barely registered with his addled state of mind; it just filtered through the room offering a small comfort instead of the crushing silence that would have been the only thing Jim would have heard. 

On the small kitchen counter lay a plate of food that was, for the most part, untouched. Jim hadn't eaten much in the past few weeks, and it was beginning to show on his frame. His suits, which had never quite fit him, especially since half of them along with his ties, were hand-me-downs from his father, hung limply, lifelessly from his frame.

Buzz. Buzz.

Jumping up and just managing not to spill his drink, Jim scanned the room for the source of the buzzing and cutting off the sound of the television. His eyes skimmed over the apartment. Finally, they fell onto the corner of his unmade bed. There he saw his phone, which was all but vibrating off of the surface.

"What now?" Jim mumbled, shaking his head and grabbing his phone, not reading the caller id, not seeing the bright flashing words: Bad Idea is Calling. He didn't realise just who he was about to talk to as he grumpily asked: "Hello?"

"J-Jim?"

Jim all but fell over at the sound of her voice floating through his ears. His heart leapt into his throat, and his stomach tightened into a million knots at the sound of a sniffling, crying woman, whose voice he hadn't heard in three weeks. Closing his eyes, Jim desperately tried to block out the sound of her whispering: 'I can't.'

"J-Jim?" Pam whispered again, clearly trying to fight back her tears.

"Pam? Are you alright?" Jim choked out, sinking onto his bed, running a hand through his hair, fighting back the images pouring forth before his eyes.

"No." Pam sobbed. "No, I'm not."

"Pam -"

At the other end, Jim could hear Pam take a short, shaky breath. He could hear her trying to collect herself, and as he ran his hand through his messy hair and closed his eyes, he could all but see her frantically wiping away her tears. He could see her shaking where she stood, but all of those thoughts were drowned out when Pam started to speak again. "You just left, out of the blue, no nothing, no calls, no emails, not even a word about a transfer. I had to hear it from Michael when he announced it to everyone." 

"Pam -"

"God, I shouldn't even be upset about this right now," Pam exclaimed loudly, almost furiously and Jim couldn't help but picture her throwing her free hand up in the air in exasperation. Before the image could become routed in his mind, Pam cried out "I've just called off my wedding, and I'm more upset about you not being here."

"What?!" 

Jim's heart stopped. His eyes bulged in their sockets, and he sat bolt upright, all tiredness and the mild intoxication left his body in an instant. He could hardly believe what he had just heard, and for a long moment, he remained silent before finally asking: "You did what?"

"I called off my wedding… because of you." Pam whispered her voice calm for the first time since he had picked up the phone. Her sobs stopped, and her breathing settled back to a normal rhythm. The stress, fear and nerves that had been coursing through her body and filtering over the phone to Jim dissipated with eight words.

Jim's breath caught in his throat. His heart hammered mercilessly against his ribs; his blood roared through his ears and for a few long moments, Jim could barely breathe. Everything he had wanted for the past three years since he had started at Dunder Mifflin, had finally happened, and he was one hundred and fifty miles away from her. The joy that he had felt at the final three words of Pam's statement faded into despair.

"Pam, I'm sorry," Jim whispered.

"No, no, that's not - don't apologise." Pam mumbled frantically, not wanting Jim to feel guilty for her decision, even though he had been the catalyst for it. Jim could hear her moving around, pacing and mumbling: "I didn't want you to apologise - shit, ow!"

"Are you okay?" 

Jim's eyes bulged, and he rushed to his feet, barely managing to stop himself from falling, fear coursing through his veins. He couldn't bear the idea that she was in pain.

"Yeah, I just stubbed my toe, I'm not used to this new apartment yet. I only moved in today - I've been moving my stuff behind Roy's back for a few days while he's been out with his brother and friends." Pam sighed, sitting down. Jim could hear the rustle of her skirt against the material of her bedding. Jim could just picture Pam waiting at home and then slipping out several times a day to move her life out of the house that she had lived in for seven years. His heart swelled several times as Pam started to speak again. "Anyway, I couldn't do it - I couldn't marry him, not after, erm, you, erm…"

"Told you I was in love with you? That I am in love with you." Jim supplied, straightening his back and closing his eyes, cursing himself for enjoying her little intake of breath. He couldn't help but see her in that blue and purple dress and hearing that intake of breath when he had first told her. He couldn't stop himself from thinking of the sparkle in her eyes and hear the soft: 'me too.'

"Yeah, you made me realise that I was just settling with Roy. I am just letting myself stay with the same guy I've been with for ten years of my life, who may have loved me, but wasn't in love with me. I would just be doing the safe thing, letting my life be dictated. I think I wouldn't have been happy, just content." Pam said softly, her voice gentle but full of a firm conviction, like she had finally decided to take something for herself, to do something for herself. "I can't do that."

For the first time, he was happy to hear the words: 'I can't.' Jim hated that his heart soared, but he couldn't stop it, and after a few seconds, he knew that he wasn't going to try to stop it. He could never stop that feeling whenever Pam was concerned; Jim doubted he ever would be.

"I'm glad you decided that." Jim nodded, collapsing back onto his bed and softly asking: "Are you okay?"

"I don't know." Pam confessed, hiccuping slightly and sighing. Jim smiled at the sound of her little squeaks of a hiccup and for a moment just listened to her breathe out: "I miss you, Jim."

"I miss you too, Beesley." Jim confessed, closing his eyes and leaning back. 

For what felt like an eternity, he just stayed there, lying awkwardly on the bunched up blue sheets with his legs dangling over the edge of the bed just touching the floor. His work shirt was crumpled up, half exposing his thinning frame and his tie hung limply by his left side, but none of that mattered. All his attention was devoted to hearing Pam at the end of the phone. Jim didn't care that it was just the sound of her gentle breathing. He didn't want it to stop. He needed her more than he needed oxygen, but he knew that he couldn't just stay there silent.

"Tell me about things in Scranton, please?" Jim asked, his voice dry and croaky from his lapse of silence.

Jim could hear Pam's soft smile, and she launched into her recount of things. "Well, erm, Michael is just as impossible as ever - he has been moody, and he even kissed Oscar. That was kind of terrifying, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for Oscar and everyone else who was forced to watch. He also keeps calling you a traitor to the office, though I am convinced that is just because he misses you I think. We all do. Dwight seems to be waiting for a prank and besides your faxes, nice touch by the way -"

"Why thank you." Jim couldn't resist commenting, a smirk playing at his lips.

"He seems more miserable. Ryan got promoted to a junior sales assistant or something. He sits in your seat." Pam said, her voice wavering a bit, and Jim couldn't help but feel a flicker of joy at the thought of Pam looking over to see if he was sitting there.

"How dare he? Doesn't he know that is my seat even when I am not in Scranton?" Jim asked, keeping his tone light and joking, but even he couldn't hide the lingering sound of regret. At the sound of Pam's heightened breathing, Jim knew that she had heard too.

After a long moment, Pam whispered diffidently: "I wish you were in Scranton."

"So do I."

Those three words hung between them, echoing through Jim's head, and he suspected that at the other end, Pam was experiencing the same thing. They both knew that he didn't belong in Stamford and that he belonged back home in Scranton, but he wasn't there. Both could feel his absence. Jim knew that his heart and soul belonged back there with Pam, but neither of them was going to admit it. 

Clearing his throat, Jim found himself sitting up and mumbling: "I should probably go, I have work in the morning."

"Yeah, me too. Talk to you soon." Pam whispered, echoing Jim's dejected feeling. 

For a long moment, neither acted, just listening and waiting to the other before Jim finally sighed. Knowing that if he didn't speak now, he wouldn't be able to Jim found himself adding: "talk to you tomorrow," before finally hanging up.

The small cramped apartment suddenly felt a lot larger and a lot emptier. Jim felt as though all light had been sucked from the room with the absence of her voice in his ears. Collapsing back onto the bed, he stared up at the ceiling, a single tear slipping from his eyes. A cocktail of emotions swirled through him: hope, love, confusion, pain, longing and despair. They spiralled around his mind, coursed through his veins and overwhelmed his senses. 

Beside him, a flicker of light and the soft sound of another buzz caught his attention. Blindly feeling around, Jim's hand came to land on his phone, and he once again flipped it open to find another message waiting for him.

Bad Idea: Sleep well, Jim.

And just like that, the room felt a little less dark.

‘Good friends are hard to find, harder to leave

And impossible to forget.’ - G. Randolf

Jim could hardly contain his smiles anymore. For the past week, every night, at six-thirty on the dot, besides Wednesday when it was nine-thirty, Jim had found himself receiving a call from a particular curly-haired receptionist from Scranton Pennsylvania. Every night he would fall asleep with a massive grin on his lips and the memory of her soft ‘good night’ echoing around his mind. His colleagues had begun to question him about it, but each time Jim would just shrug it off. He didn’t want the feeling of floating on cloud nine to end, especially when the back of his mind, the cynical, realistic part, kept on reminding him that nothing may ever come of these phone calls. 

For now, he was just ignoring those thoughts.

“Hey, Halpert, you coming?”

The sound of Karen’s voice filtered through Jim’s mind, wrenching from thoughts of Pam and Scranton. The saleswoman was a very persistent reminder that he was still firmly stuck in Stamford, no matter how much he wished not to be. Though, that was hardly Karen’s fault.

“That’s what she said.” Jim found himself muttering, though it sounded like another person spoke. 

His eyes found the other salesperson leaning over his desk, a smile playing on her lips at the fact he had caught Jim entirely off guard. Karen seemed to delight in catching him by surprise. Jim suspected that was very much because he almost certainly stole the Assistant Regional Manager title from under her grasp, despite never working in Stamford before. Then again, she often tried to trip up those around her or at least keep them on their toes. He’d never admit, but he was ever so slightly afraid of her, ever so slightly.

“What was that?” Karen asked, cocking her eyebrow upwards.

“Doesn’t matter, just mumbling to myself,” Jim mumbled, grabbing his messenger bag and rising to his feet, wiping hands on his suit trousers. A smile graced his lips before he fell into step with Karen, heading towards the sliding doors. Karen beamed back, not realising that the smile she earned didn’t quite reach Jim’s eyes. 

The sound of Karen’s heels and the rustle of Jim’s suit filled the quiet room, their breathing out of sync and a good few feet between them. Karen didn’t seem to notice that Jim was lagging behind her, his usual slow pace not matching her march; he never liked falling into line with anyone, well besides one person. It was only as she reached the elevator that she realised that he wasn’t beside her and she found herself reluctantly holding open the doors for him.

“Thanks.” Jim grinned, squeezing past her and waiting for the doors to slowly creek together. The Stamford elevator needed seeing to, not that anyone would do that until it broke.

“I’m not going to wait around all day for you.” Karen shook her head, mildly exasperated.

“But you just did.” Jim shrugged. Glancing upwards, he didn’t see the fist headed straight for his shoulder, only feeling the impact and looking back down to grin: “You’re a psycho, Filippelli.”

“Sounds like you enjoy it, Halpert.” Karen beamed, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly.

“Really? Does it?” Jim asked, his eyebrows shooting up behind his fringe at the sight of Karen’s blush before he brushed it aside as a byproduct of how warm it was in the small elevator. Shaking his head, he said: “I just appreciated you killing me. It was very helpful for like half an hour.” 

“Glad to hear that.” Karen grinned.

Nodding his head in thanks, Jim felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. Grateful for the distraction, he fished his phone out of his pocket, a soft tender smile etching itself onto his lips. His eyes shone, and he found himself instantly flipping open his phone, unaware of Karen’s piercing glare and how her smile twisted itself into an unamused line. 

Beesly: Michael has managed to block my car in at the office. Guess who is having to get a drive home from Dwight?

A soft chuckle escaped Jim’s lips, and he shook his head in disbelief, well, not quite. It was Michael they were talking about, and over the past few years, he’d had his own fair share of rides home with Dwight. Maybe it was just Pam’s turn.

HalpMe: Poor you. Please tell Dwight that I miss him and am madly in love with him.

Beesly: ‘What the hell is Jim on? - Dwight’. Call you in an hour?

HalpMe: Can't wait!

A broad grin spread across Jim’s lips both at the thought of Dwight’s confusion and at the fact that Pam had once again asked to call him. He loved both her nervousness about calling and the fact that she wanted to talk to him still. He couldn’t help but feel slightly smug, though he knew he was the same. Pam just happened to be braver.

“Busy?”

Jim jumped. His eyes bulged in their sockets, and he stared down at Karen in disbelief, realising that he had completely forgotten that the other salesperson was there with him. She was staring up at him expectantly, her expression unimpressed at being annoyed and at the idea that Jim refused to smile like that for her.

“Just some old work colleagues,” Jim mumbled, stuffing his phone back into his pocket and trying to look apologetic. He hadn’t meant to forget her presence. It certainly hadn’t been his intention, but he had undoubtedly welcomed it, especially since he had a sneaking suspicion that Karen was ever so slightly attracted to him.

“You still talk to them?” Karen sneered, stepping out of the elevator and purposely making sure that Jim didn’t fall out of step with her. She hated having to make things obvious, but she wasn’t entirely above it.

“Yeah, I’m good friends with a few of them,” Jim said, shrugging.

Since he’d left, Jim had received messages from Kevin and Oscar, asking for help with Dwight and Michael. He’d found himself reading emails from Angela and Kelly, the former asking about Dwight, which had definitely confused him, and the latter wanting to talk about the latest updates in the lives of celebrities. Even Stanley and Phylis had found some way to message him. It was only Michael and Dwight, probably because of Michael’s lack of contact, who had point-blank refused to contact him, even though he’d told Michael the truth about his transfer. Then again, that might have been to keep up appearances.

“Well, maybe you’ll make some closer friends here.” Karen purred, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“Maybe.” Jim shrugged, looking away, a wave of uneasiness washing through him. Wringing his hands, he couldn’t help but feel grateful at the sight of his car and the buzz of his phone as he mumbled: “I don’t know.”

Beesly: Dwight is lecturing me on where I should leave my car as if it’s my fault that Jan’s car is parked across it blocking me in!

Jim shook his head, a soft chuckle leaving his lips at Pam's obvious annoyance. He could feel the glare that Karen was sending his way, and for a moment, Jim considered typing slowly, but he didn’t want to do that to Pam.

HalpMe: I’d say complain, but the complaint would have to go to Jan.

Beesly: You’re no help.

HalpMe: I try.

“Old friend still?” Karen asked bitterly, drawing Jim’s attention back to her with a frustrated sigh, “what’s he like?”

“She’s a wonderful person.” Jim beamed, unable to bring himself to downplay how much Pam meant to him and how grateful he was that he had finally reached him Saab. Turning to look back at Karen, he offered her a gentle grin and nodded: “Have a good night, Karen.”

“Bye, Jim.” Karen huffed, turning away and marching off, the sound of her heels clicking across the car park as she flicked her long dark hair over her shoulder.

Shivering slightly, Jim ducked inside his car, throwing his messenger bag aside and dumping his coat on top of it, not that he needed the overcoat at the moment. Summer was beginning to show signs of staying. Checking his phone one last time, Jim noted that Pam had only read his message and not responded to it, then again, he knew that all she would have done was roll her eyes. He contemplated just leaving it, but he couldn’t stop himself from sending another message before he left the small dingy car park.

HalpMe: On my way home, can’t wait to talk to you later.

Beesly: Same here, Halpert.

And with one big grin across his face, Jim pulled away from Stamford Business Park.

…

“I died today,” Jim announced the second he picked up Pam’s call.

“Of boredom?” Pam giggled.

Collapsing into his chair, Jim noted to himself that he could have listened to the sound of Pam’s giggling for hours on end and he definitely wanted to hear it in person. As much as he adored these moments, the distance between them never seemed more apparent than when neither of them spoke. It was worse than hearing the phone ring and not hearing: ‘Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam.’ It was more evident than when it was Karen who waited for him at the end of the day with her straight dark hair and pantsuits instead of the caramel curls and a cardigan. It hurt more than not seeing her face when he walked in and out of work. Jim despised just how much his heart ached and the pain he felt when he realised that he couldn’t see her smiling during any of these calls. 

It all but broke his heart even more.

Though it wasn’t as bad as hearing those two words: ‘I can’t.’

“Nope, at Stamford they play Call of Duty or something like that. I’m shit at it.” Jim finally supplied, pulling himself out of his spiralling thoughts, choosing to focus solely on her voice.

“I’m sure you’re not that bad,” Pam assured him, but he could tell by the waver in her voice and the hint of laughter in her tone that she didn’t quite believe her own words. He knew that she was shaking her head at him, and she too fell into her seat. Jim never knew whether she was sitting on a sofa or an armchair. He liked to imagine her in a small armchair, curled up with a cup of tea beside her.

“Well, I got shot by Karen multiple times,” Jim confessed, shrugging. He wasn’t too bothered about it, knowing full well that he would have much-rathered play a prank on Dwight than play that stupid game.

“Karen’s the one who sits behind you, right?” Pam asked, her voice light, but Jim could have sworn he heard a slightly jealous not to it, but that was almost certainly wishful thinking.

Fighting the urge to ask her about it, Jim instead chose to comment on something else, knowing better than to question her. Instead, he found himself, saying: “Yeah. It still creeps me out that no one sits together here. It kind of scares me how isolated they all are. Then again, I don’t really know if I want to be sat with Andy and Karen - I like the separation from them I guess.”

“Is that your way of saying you miss Dwight?” Pam asked, a giggle springing to her lips.

“Maybe.” Jim chuckled, knowing full well that he definitely did miss the other salesman, despite how much he would deny it. “Just don’t tell him that.” 

“I won’t, I promise,” Pam promised, a smile still evident in her voice.

“Thank you, Beesly.”

“You’re welcome, Halpert.” Pam paused at the other, just breathing softly, and Jim could hear her fumble about before taking a drink, solidifying the image in his head of her sitting in an armchair with a cup of tea. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling when she asked: “So, aside from being shot by your friend, how has your day?”

“Pretty standard - my sales are going up. I guess not goofing around with Dwight or hanging out at reception does help my sales performance, but it’s nowhere near as fun.” Jim responded, choosing not to mention his conversation with Karen. The thought entered his mind for a brief moment, but he pushed it aside, focusing on Pam instead.

Not that it was a challenge to do that.

“You’re doing actual work?” Pam giggled, disbelief ringing through with her voice at the mere idea of it.

“I know, it’s terrifying to think about, isn’t it?” Jim asked, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling, wishing more than anything that he was curled up in Pam’s room beside her or that she was here with him. He couldn’t help but want that she would curl up beside him and the lack of pressure on his shoulder left him feeling crushed.

Jim was so lost in his thoughts that he barely registered Pam’s laughter and only just heard her mumble: “God, you’re such a dork, Halpert.”

“Why thank you, Beesly.” Jim sighed, willing away the more depressing thoughts in his mind and focusing on Pam’s breathing along with her laughter at his reply. It was in that moment that Jim was determined that come what may, he was going to one day feel Pam’s head against his shoulder. He was determined that one day, he’d make it a possibility, but for now, he was content enough just to listen to the soft sound Pam’s voice.

One day, they’d be back in the same room again.

Hopefully.