December 1st 

 

“This has gone on long enough,” Michael called the super secret stealth meeting (his name for their get together that no one else had agreed to) to order. 

Angela sniffed dismissively. “I don’t see why we should help.” 

“It’s Christmas,” Phyllis shrugged. “What better time to help someone.” 

“I think little baby Jesus would want you to show some kindness,” Michael entreated less gently. 

His words were met with a snort. “You all bring up Jesus when it’s convenient, but I don’t see you living Christlike lives.” 

“Are you kidding?” Meredith sighed and Angela leveled her with a steady glare in response. Meredith threw up her hands in defeat. “Jesus turned water into wine, he was a hell of a lot more fun at a party than you are.” 

“Pam has 12 out of 12 of the symptoms of clinical depression,” Dwight interjected. “I think we should help,” he empathized the ‘we’ with meaning. 

“Fine,” Angela relented with a sigh. 

“Good girl,” Michael enthused with a friendly pat to the shoulder. She glared at him. 

“I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss,” she added. “All it’ll take is a quick phone call to Roy and he’ll have her back. Problem solved.” 

“Oh sweetie,” Phyllis’ tone dripped with sarcasm. “This isn’t about Roy.” 

“It’s Jim,” Michael uttered gleefully. “Our prodigy son!” 

Angela’s mouth dropped. She folded her arms over her chest. “No. I will not help that hussy. Count me out.” 

Dwight leveled her with a pleading gaze. She turned her head away from him. 

“You know,” Michael mused, ignoring Angela’s outburst. “We could kill two birds with two stones here and bring our Jimbo back to Scranton as well as fix his love life.” 

“Three birds,” Dwight corrected. “We’re also going to cure Pam’s depression.” 

“So, what’s the plan?” Meredith clapped her hands together, keen to begin. 

She was met with blank stare after blank stare. 

“Huh,” Michael finally added. “Step one, everybody brainstorm their best plans and we’ll meet back here tomorrow.” 

Kevin stuck his head into the conference room. “Caw. Ca-caw,” he chirped. 

Michael gave him a two fingered salute. “The pigeon has returned to the nest,” he murmured. “Retreat to your battle stations.” 

 

Pam settled into her desk at reception, staring vacantly at the message button flashing with new voicemails. She missed her colleagues scramble back to their desks with all the delicacy of uncoordinated elephants. She missed the way all their eyes very obviously drifted over to her every few seconds. She missed the way Michael’s brow furrowed deeply with concern as he asked her if she’d had a nice lunch. She missed the way it deepened further still at her mumbled noncommittal response. She was missing a lot these days. 

 

December 2nd 

 

Michael had meant well with his plan to plan a plan that would snap Pam out of her funk. He was good at that, well intentioned plans. 

Unfortunately, his strength did not lie in follow through. 

By the time the team reunited the following day to discuss their ideas, he had lost... interest wasn’t the right word, because he really would’ve liked to have fix things for both Pam and Jim... motivation was perhaps a better fit. 

“Let’s just call Jim and tell him how much Pam misses him,” he whined, after listening dispassionately to a rather convoluted and intricate plan suggested by Dwight. It had involved Mose in disguise and the training of messenger pigeons so he wasn’t completely off base in shooting it down very quickly on the grounds of it being too much work. 

“I think that’s a nice idea, Dwight,” Phyllis offered kindly, “but I don’t think it would be possible to pull off before Christmas.” 

Dwight nodded sharply in response. “I suppose the timeline to train the birds makes it a little hard.” 

“That’s what she said,” Michael chortled. 

Nobody else so much as smiled. 

Kelly jumped theatrically to her feet. “Ohmygod,” escaped in a hurried breath. “That’s what we should do!” she exclaimed, eyes bright with excitement. “We should She’s All That Pam!” 

She was met with blank faces. “You know, make her hot?”

“She is hot,” Michael grinned. Kevin almost smiled before noting the cringes everyone else was wearing. 

“Michael,” Oscar sighed. 

“Picture this,” Kelly continued, ignoring the interruption. “Jim as a hot, young Freddie Prince Jr.” 

“I can picture it,” Meredith nodded along appreciatively. 

“A prince?” Michael gasped excitedly. 

Dwight scoffed. “Jim’s bloodline is nowhere near royalty.”

Kelly folded her arms and glared at the pair of them. “Ugh,” she pouted. “You two have no idea. He’s a movie star.” 

Michael’s face lit up and he radiated with fresh energy. “Ohhh, a movie. Let’s watch it... for research. I’ll send Pam out on an errand.” 

Creed thrust his head through the door, “Tamara’s back.” 

Michael shook his head. “Pamela,” he corrected. 

“Sure,” Creed answered easily.  

And with that the meeting disbanded. 

 

Michael remembered his part. He sent Pam out with a list of errands for the upcoming Christmas party. Angela grumbled under her breath as he did. Those were her errands, dammit. Pam would screw it up and then these fools would see Angela as the bad guy when she scolded - no, firmly and justifiably corrected - Pam. 

They spent the afternoon watching the movie and that was that. There seemed a general consensus that they’d forgotten the reason they were watching the movie in the first place. 

That was that indeed. There were no more meetings. There were no more plans. All that remained were the concerned glances at Pam. 

 

December 10th 

 

Michael emerged from his office determined to undermine any productivity. This wasn’t his conscious thought, it was more along the lines of I’m bored, but it was the outcome nonetheless. 

“Stanley, the manly,” he trilled, schooching up onto Stanley’s desk, accidentally pushing the power button on Stanley’s computer in the process. 

Stanley growled in frustration. “Michael,” he warned. “I’m trying to work.” 

“Boring,” Michael scoffed. Nonetheless, he slid from the bigger man’s desk. He knew when to pick his battles (or not). “Pfft, working?” Michael clapped Stanley on the back. “Your computer isn’t even on!” 

From her chair, Phyllis had the perfect view of the steam rising from Stanley’s ears. She tried to clamp down her smile, knowing it would do little to soothe Stanley’s irritation. She’d have a chuckle about it later. 

Her prime location had the unintended effect. Michael caught her eye and decided to make her the next victim of his need for entertainment. 

“Phyllis, old gal, what’s -“

She cut him off with a sharp, “we’re the same age, Michael.” 

He withered under her glare and quickly moved on. He approached accounting, but a pointed look from Angela made quick work of that plan. He stomped his feet and grumbled. “I miss Jimbo, you’re all lame.” 

There was a sharp intake of breath from reception. The office stilled. 

All eyes swung to Pam. 

Her expression was pained and she gazed blankly at her computer. She didn’t seem to notice the collective stare leveled in her direction. 

She blinked slowly and carefully. By the third squeeze, the hurt in her eyes had eased ever so slightly. She took a deep breath before clicking her mouse and seeming to return to the present. 

She still didn’t notice how carefully she was being watched. 

 

Michael, however, finally processed the impact of his words and noticed the collective concern radiating from his employees. He cringed ever so slightly at his completely accidental slip. 

“I need my party planning bitches,” he decided because of course he would attempt to fix things in the worst way possible.

Angela audibly sighed. “Why Michael? The Christmas party is completely under control.” 

“Because I said so,” Michael hissed. 

Angela shoved her chair back with a disproportionate amount of force and swept past Michael and into the conference room. 

Phyllis trailed her in. 

No one else moved. 

“Uh, Pamela,” Michael entreated gently. 

“Huh?” Pam murmured, raising her gaze from the screen before her, confusion etched over her face. 

“It’s time for a meeting. Party Planning Committee.” 

“Oh.” 

He ushered her towards the conference room. She allowed herself to be directed. 

 

“We lost Jim and Pam this year,” Oscar sighed with the shake of his head. Stanley grunted in response. 

Kevin looked at him curiously and carefully stated, “Pam still works here.” 

“But she’s not the same,” Dwight snorted. “Keep up, Kevin.” 

He shared a knowing look with Oscar before shaking his head and getting back to his work. 

“On the same page as Dwight,” Oscar lamented. “What a year...” 

 

“So, my party planning bitches,” Michael started. 

“Call us that one more time,” Angela hissed, her eyes steel. 

“My party pl -“ he started before noticing her expression and Phyllis’ slowly shaking head. 

“Uh. planning ladies,” he finished lamely. 

“Yes, Michael,” Phyllis answered politely as Angela continued glowering and Pam picked at a loose thread on her sweater and stared at the floor. 

“Corporate has a competition,” he beamed excitedly. “They want someone to design a Christmas card to send out to all our important clients. If we win, we get to go to the corporate Christmas party in New York.” He pulled a crumbled memo from his pocket and waved it around with gusto. 

Angela snatched the weathered paper from his hands. “Michael, this was sent out last week.” 

“So what,” he threw up his hands. 

“So, the competition closes today,” she huffed. 

“The day is still young,” Michael decreed. 

“The winner gets to attend the party, with their choice of plus one. Not the whole branch,” she continued cooly. 

“Uh huh,” he nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll be the plus one for whoever wins,” he puffed out his chest. 

He clapped his hands together, eyes bright with joy. “Get designing. I can’t wait!” 

“That certainly lessens the incentive,” Angela muttered. 

“I wouldn’t want to go with you anyway,” Michael griped at her. 

Angela pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “I’m getting back to work. This meeting is closed.” 

“Pfft. We don’t need her.” 

“I can’t draw, Michael,” Phyllis stated. 

Michael waved a dismissive hand and Phyllis too, escaped from the conference room. 

He swung his full attention to the last person still seated in the room. Pam had managed to bring her gaze from the worn carpet and was now staring wistfully out the window. 

“Pam?” his tone was far more subdued. 

Pam was oblivious, but she wasn’t oblivious all at the same time. She knew Michael was treating her gently. She was both touched at the gesture, the real effort and kindness that Michael was putting in to toning down on some of the Michael-tricities, and incredibly frustrated that she couldn’t get herself in check. Her miserableness had seeped into work. It was difficult to believe, but this was her making an effort. She wasn’t tearing up every time there was some reminder of him at work anymore. That was progress, right? 

“Pam?” he tried again and she shook herself back to reality. 

“Yes, Michael,” she answered dully. 

“Here,” he pressed the memo into her hands. “Can you please help me win this?” 

She read it carefully, a furrow in her brow. “I’m not sure, Michael...” 

“Please,” he pleaded carefully. “You’re my only hope, Pammy-won-konobi.” 

She flinched at the Pammy, but her better side won out. It was Christmas after all. Just because she was morose didn’t mean everybody had to be. 

“Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Be with you the force,” Michael bowed awkwardly. 

Despite herself, she almost cracked a smile. Of course then it struck her who she would most like to share the peculiarities of this conversation with and she was twice as miserable as she had been. 

 

Joy was a double edged sword. Anything that made her smile in the office instantly brought her sorrow because she no longer had the person she most wanted to share her moments with. The kicker was that it was all her fault. She could have had him. She’d ruined it. And now she had to live with the deeply depressing consequences. 

 

So, to say she wasn’t feeling the Christmas spirit this year was the understatement of all time. Designing a corporate Christmas card wasn’t exactly where she was at, but she’d placate Michael because why not. 

She returned to her desk and put pen to paper. 

 

Or at least, she had every intention to put pen to paper. She thumbed the memo a couple of times before reading it again, carefully. A party in New York two days before Christmas? With Michael as her plus one? And there would be no getting out of that, because he’d be bitterly disappointed and sulk for weeks on end should she have the gall to invite anyone else. She cringed at the thought. That was a definite nope. After consideration, it was crystal clear that this was a competition that she did not want to win. 

 

It was funny, in a mirthless hollow sort of way, that in light of how down she appeared at work, she was actually happier at home. Sure, this was the first Christmas she was spending alone in almost ten years. 

Her life was a pendulum of highs and lows. On one hand, leaving Roy had been freeing almost and whilst she wasn’t overflowing with happiness, she was content in a way she hadn’t been in years. She was taking art classes and she’d made some friends and there was no one questioning her about how she spent her time and who she was with when she returned home late in the evening. But, then there were the lows. One low in particular. Jim had left. He had just upped and slipped completely from her life overnight leaving a giant gaping hole that she didn’t know how to fill. It was harder to pull the covers over it at work. It was far, far easier outside the office, because he’d never really been in her life at home so things hadn’t changed so much there. 

She could still paint. She could still paint, because Jim hadn’t been so wrapped up in her art to the point that all her art reminded her of him. Some content was off limits. She’d wanted to practice her still-life for her class with her teal teapot and had fast ceased with that idea. 

 

Her pencil settled on the page and errantly started forming Christmas-like shapes. At least that was her intention. 

As her eyes traced the lines on the page a frown furrowed her brow. She would have to try harder. And by that she meant try harder to make it terrible. Her first attempt was actually somewhat decent and she couldn’t have that. Christmas Eve-eve with Michael in New York. She shuddered at the thought. Nope. Not happening. 

She let herself finish the design. It wasn’t her best work, but it was objectively too reasonable to submit. 

She brushed it into the trash can by her feet. There was no point in keeping a company card design, it wasn’t like she could hand it out to her family. 

She set out on her second design with far more concentration. It was difficult, but she very deliberately drove her pencil around the page with uneven strokes. 

The end result was a complete mess. It wasn’t that her drawing itself was terrible, but corporate probably weren’t looking for a maniacal Santa-esque figure setting the company logo on fire. 

 

She added a few final touches and presented it proudly to Michael. 

“Pam,” Michael grumbled. “This su-“ Dwight stood on his foot pointedly. There was a flicker of anger that was quickly replaced with recognition. “Ss-is great...” 

“Thanks Michael,” Pam lied softly. She was neither thankful nor completely ignorant of the interaction that had just taken place. Dwight’s obvious sympathy felt like a new low. 

 

December 15th 

 

It wasn’t possible. 

It just wasn’t. 

And yet here Michael stood before her, with a grin stretching from ear to ear. “Congratulations to our very own Pam-casso!” 

No. No, no, no. 

In his hand he waved the tickets to the corporate Christmas party, his chest swelling with pride. 

She blanched. This was less than ideal. Although, considering the general disaster that this year had been, perhaps it was fitting for it to end like this, at rock bottom. 

The thought twisted her cheeks in the tiniest makings of a smile. After this, being Michael’s date at a formal event, surely the only way to go was up. 

She had nothing suitable to wear. But, that only cemented this whole thing as the lowest of lows. 

 

December 22nd 

 

“What do you think?” Michael preened. He was dressed in a full tuxedo, long coattails flopping down his legs. 

“You look great, Michael,” Dwight gave him a hearty thumbs up. 

“I wasn’t asking you. I was asking Pam.” 

Dwight’s huff gave Pam the moment she needed to compose herself somewhat. She was grateful for the preview, so that they weren’t having this conversation for the first time in the lobby of the party. 

“You look very formal,” she managed. 

She was fairly certain that this outfit was from his magician collection. It reminded her of a circus conductor, or whatever the word was for that. Her mind was drawing a blank. All she could focus on was how she could stage an illness that would let her avoid this party, but also wouldn’t mean that she’d have to miss any work. Death was seeming like the best option. It would get her out of the party and paying rent. Win-win. 

 

“What will you be wearing?” Michael studied her very carefully. “You’re my arm candy, Pam. You have to look hot.” 

She shook her head at him, eyes narrow. 

“You won the prize, I’m actually your arm candy. Whatever,” he brushed her off, completely missing the point. “You still need to look good. We have to do Scranton proud.” 

Ugh. 

She wanted to wear a paper bag over her head. Or better yet, her pajamas, on her sofa, still tucked away in her apartment and not in New York. 

She shrugged in response to Michael which was clearly a mistake because not even half an hour later she somehow found herself in the Steamtown Mall with Michael, Phyllis, Kelly and Angela. 

 

“This is pretty,” Kelly insisted, pressing a hanger into her arms. She eyed the hot pink fabric speculatively. “You have to try it on.” Her tone left no room for negotiation. 

Phyllis looked down her nose at Kelly’s choice and pushed her own option into Pam’s hands.

Michael bubbled with excitement, a dropped soda bottle just waiting to explode. “Try these too!” 

Angela primly crossed her arms. She was having no part in this. None of the dresses in this store were appropriate for a tramp who had thrown away her engagement for another man. Or, as Kelly held up another low cut number, perhaps hussy was exactly the target audience of this disreputable establishment. She would never deign shop here herself. 

She sniffed her discontentment and was unsurprised that her distaste was ignored by her insufferable colleagues. Typical. 

Pam fingered the fabric of a dark forest green dress. It seemed fitting for Christmas. She added it to her pile. 

“Fashion show,” Kelly crooned, clapping her hands together in exuberant joy. 

 

Pam cringed at the reflection staring back at her. The hot pink number was essentially two strips of fabric that left very little to the imagination. 

“You have to show us, Pam.” The demand from Kelly was pointed. 

“This is a no,” she sighed, before opening the fitting room door and taking one very tentative step forward. 

“Wowzas!” Michael gasped. “Wear that!” 

Angela glared at her. “Under no circumstances,” she hissed. 

Huh. In agreement with Angela. That was a first when it came to fashion. 

“You have to own it,” came Kelly’s advice. “Really you know,” she thrust her own chest forwards,” and strut.” 

“Nope,” she retreated into the relative safety of the dressing room, locking the door behind her. 

Phyllis’ option was next. It looked exactly like something Phyllis would wear. She examined the fabric with a crinkle in her nose, if she wasn’t mistaken, this was the exact fabric of her grandmother’s living room curtains. Fun. 

She slipped into the dress and felt what was left of her youth slip away. Phyllis beamed at her when she stepped back into view. 

Kelly scoffed. “No way.”

“I liked the hot one more,” Michael whined. “That’s an old lady outfit.” 

Phyllis' smile slipped and twisted to a glare. “That’s the same dress I wore to my engagement party with Bob Vance.” 

So double no then. Not that Pam was even considering it for a second. 

“Exactly,” Michael waved his hands with indignation. 

She ducked back behind the locked door to avoid the daggers that Phyllis was leveling in Michael’s direction. 

She ran through her next several options quickly. All the dresses that Kelly had deemed classy were more befitting of a twenty year old in a nightclub which Pam most definitely was not. Plus, the way Michael looked at her in them had her tugging the fabric down her legs and willing it to stretch beneath her knees. 

She found similar issues with Michael’s choices. None of them were quite sophisticated enough for what she imagined a corporate Christmas party in New York to be. She wanted to walk that fine line between something nice and something that did not encourage Michael to see her as a sexual being. She was beginning to think a burlap sack might just do the trick. 

 

Soon, only one option remained. The deep green number that she’d impulsively plucked from the rack. 

She pulled it on, her back to the mirror and fastened the zip with a satisfyingly smooth slide. The sooner she got this over and done with, the sooner she could leave (and dig through the back of her closest for something). She was starting to think the periwinkle silk tucked out of sight may just be her only option and she really didn’t want to go there. 

She pushed the thought from her mind. Letting her eyes pool with tears with her coworkers impatiently waiting on her was not on the agenda. 

She stepped from the dressing room and waited for the comments to start. Instead she was met with stunned silence. 

“What?” She murmured after a moment. “Is it see through or something?” She spun back around and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Oh. It was a pretty perfect dress. 

“You look really nice, Pam,” Michael said simply. 

“You do look acceptable,” Angela echoed and then seemed to remember herself. She rolled her eyes. “Are we done yet? We’re all wasting company time here.” 

“That’s hot,” Kelly agreed. “But, like classy hot. Like Nicole Kidman on a red carpet.” 

Pam swallowed around the emotion. “Thank you,” she answered them all, letting her eyes meet with Angela’s, hoping the sincerity was ringing clear. 

Maybe there was a little bit of Christmas magic left in the world after all. 

She changed back into her work clothes and let her gaze run over the price tag on her perfect dress. 

And nope. That was a nope. That was… there was one too many zeros and nope. Not happening. 

She wrung her hands as she opened the door. “It’s too expensive,” she told her waiting crowd with downcast eyes. The collective gasp had hot and heavy pinpricks of moisture forming in the corner of her eyes. “It’s fine. I think I have something I can wear at home.” 

They returned to the office with spirits low. There was no magic, there was only crippling reality. 

 

And yet, when she trudged up her driveway that evening, a simple box greeted her. She carefully unlaced the bow and slipped the lid back and there it was. Her dress. Sparkling even under her dull porch light. 

She sighed deeply and let the tears that had been pushing for escape all day travel down her cheeks. 

Michael she decided. Sweet, ultimately good natured (and terrible with finances) Michael had come through for her. 

Her heart clenched and she appreciated the gesture so intensely, even though it was insane and she would have to return it. 

 

December 23rd 

 

The ‘closed for the holidays’ sign chuckled at her as she rattled it on her way into work. It seemed returning the dress was not on the cards for today. 

Could she be one of those people? Could she tuck the tag in and wear it to the event and then return it? The thought struck her and she squashed it back down. No. It was ridiculous. She couldn’t. Could she? 

 

It was barely 10am when Michael loomed over her desk, a beaming wide smile stretched across his face. “It’s time,” he waved his watch enthusiastically under her nose. 

She pinched her brow in question. 

“We have to leave for New York in T minus 6 hours.” 

He shook his head at her still vacant expression. “We need to go home and get ready!” 

A sarcastic comment formed and she remembered the box nestled into her passenger seat. She bit her tongue to keep it from rolling out her mouth. 

“Okay, Michael,” she answered softly. “I’ll see you at 4.” 

“Yeppers. Your chariot will await.” 

 

He wasn’t kidding she thought as she eyed the luxury town car idling in her driveway. 

Right on time too, which was somewhat of a surprise. Michael tended to go very over the top with formal events which always seemed to impact on his time management. 

She smoothed her coat over her dress and stepped out onto her stoop. She turned to lock her door and in the time her back was turned, a driver materialized, holding the car door open for her. 

She offered her thanks and settled into an eerily quiet backseat. No Michael. She reveled in the peace for a moment. They were only about five minutes away from his townhouse. She figured once they collected him, she would be wrapped up in excited chatter for the remainder of the journey. 

 

She ran her fingers over the soft green fabric of her - the - dress. She had tried, really earnestly tried to wear something she already owned. 

As it turned out, the extra several hours to get ready that she usually wouldn’t need had come in handy. She had spent the bulk of them in deep contemplation of every dress she owned. There was the mousy brown bridesmaids dress that would have been appropriate enough, but looked like Pam felt - lacking in Christmas spirit. The longer she had looked at it, the more she had scrunched her nose in distaste. It was everything she was: plain and bland. And she was trying not to be that person anymore, the wallflower that hid behind Roy at any social function. She couldn’t bring herself to settle for it. 

Discounting the brown number left her with only one other dress that was actually formal enough. But, as she dug it from the darkest pocket of her closest where she had jammed it deliberately, even the brush of it against her fingertips left her feeling nauseated. She had recoiled instantly to stop herself from gagging and that was that. 

It was fancy enough that dry clean only was etched on its label. She had been going to do just that, and then her life had shifted on its axis in such a monumental way that getting it cleaned was a long lost thought. 

Maybe it wasn’t the feel of the fabric that had her eyes instantly stinging with the hot burn of tears, but the waft of something familiar and irretrievable that her fingers rustling the fabric caused to drift her way. 

In the end, with only fifteen minutes left on the clock before Michael was due to arrive, she tucked the tag beneath the perfect dress and slipped it on. Thoughts of how she would have to take out a loan to even begin to pay Michael back for it dancing in her head. 

 

There was a light flurry of snow drifting by the window. It wasn’t until she felt the car considerably sped up that she realized they were merging onto the highway - and not heading towards Michael’s condo. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Ma’am,” the driver met her gaze in the rear view mirror. 

“Aren’t we… don’t we… Michael? We still need to pick up Michael?” she stammered out. 

“Mr Scott has been diverted. He can no longer attend.” 

“Oh,” and it wasn’t relief that flooded through her veins, rather disappointment. Attending with Michael was actually more appealing that attending this thing alone. 

The driver cleared his throat. “He has, however, arranged for an alternate chaperone to meet you in the city.” 

Great. Just great. That undoubtedly meant that Dwight would be waiting for her in the city. If she could count on one thing it was that Dwight would stand in to support Michael in literally anything without adequate notice. 

She squared her shoulders. It was fine. Dwight would be a familiar face and she could easily fill her evening with keeping him from doing anything too embarrassing. If there was any component of her job she had complete proficiency in, it was keeping Michael and Dwight in line. 

It would all be okay. 

 

No alternate escort awaited her at the entrance of the building. Chivalry was not Dwight’s middle name, so it wasn’t a surprise to find both the steps and the foyer devoid of his presence. 

She wondered how much of a fool he could have already made of himself in the short time he would have been inside and unsupervised. She would just have to find out. 

She squared her shoulders and stepped from the wide corridor into the room. It was beautiful. Christmas decorations adorned the walls, but in a tastefully understated manner. The ceilings were high and she liked the style of architecture, although she had no idea what it was called. A couple followed her in and their chatter brought her eyes back to the present. She swung her gaze around the room, seeking the familiar mustard yellow of Dwight. She took another step before her eyes locked on a figure a little further across the room and she froze. 

It couldn’t be. 

It just couldn’t. 

She couldn’t. 

 

She spun, desperate for the exit. 

Her movement was sharp, and she staggered on her feet. 

As she was about to have that cliche moment and stumble into the punch and make a scene, she righted herself. 

She was facing the hallway again. Perfect. She lunged forward, but instead of an out, she almost stumbled into the couple behind her. 

Oh. Oh. 

“Pam Beesly,” David Wallace enthused loudly. 

There’s no way he could have missed that. She pictured the way he would flinch, his shoulders stiffening with his hatred for her. He would think she was rude, intruding on this thing she clearly had no place at. 

Why was he here though? It didn’t make sense. 

“Hi Mr Wallace,” she replied, impressed at how steady her voice was despite herself and her rapidly spiraling thoughts. 

“We were very impressed with your design.” 

“You were?” She fought to keep the astonishment from her tone. “You didn’t think it was… juvenile?” 

His tone was slightly puzzled as he replied. “No. It was great. I particularly liked the snowflakes.”

“Thank you,” she managed to murmur. Snowflakes? That wasn’t her design. 

There was a mistake. Someone else’s design had won and she’d accidentally claimed the glory. 

But then her mind floated back to her original drawing, the semi-decent one that she’d tossed into the trash… It had an intricate snowflake detail around the edges. How had it ended up at corporate? 

“You know, I’m thinking that maybe we should come up with a few more designs and sell them to our customers next year.” 

“That’s a great idea,” another voice interjected and Pam’s knees trembled beneath her. 

“Pam, I’ll be in contact in the new year to talk with you about producing some other designs. If you’d like?” 

“I’d like that very much,” she exhaled. 

“Enjoy the party,” Wallace grinned and drifted away into the crowd. 

 

“Did you hear that?” she gasped, forgetting herself for a moment, excitement taking over. 

“I did. It’s amazing, Pam!” There was sincerity ringing in his tone. 

“Jim,” passed over her lips, almost a sigh. She spun to face him. “It’s really you,” and against her better judgement muscle memory took over and she flung herself into his chest and wound her arms tightly around him. 

“Hi,” he murmured, his warm breath rippling through her hair. She was hopeless to control the shiver that coursed through her. 

“Hey,” she replied, her bottom lip slipping between her teeth, a nervous habit that she was powerless to break. 

“You’re here…” she couldn’t keep any of her thoughts in. 

“I am,” his brow furrowed. “I got your -” 

and the rest his sentence disappeared with the tug to his arm. 

“Jim,” she was all elegance and class and the easy familiarity with which she grabbed at Jim had a heavy lump forming deep in Pam’s chest. 

Pam smoothed the edges of her dress self-consciously. She felt as if she’d worn the plain brown one after all in comparison to the woman who had floated to Jim’s side. 

“You have to come meet Alan. I told him all about you,” she demanded, tugging on Jim’s arm pointedly. 

“Alan?”

“Alan Brand. The CEO. God Jim. Keep up,” she huffed and maybe she was aiming for playful, but it came across a little mean spirited to Pam. She wrapped her arms around her waist in an effort to hold herself together. 

“Oh,” Jim answered and his eyes locked with Pam’s, she dropped her gaze to her feet. 

“I’ll be back. I want to… I want to talk to you.” And with that he finally allowed the model-esque brunette to drag him away. 

 

At least it was over. Their first strained interaction in the now. This new normal where they were acquaintances and not best friends. 

She hated it. Hated that the easiness was gone and it was all awkwardness and angst now. 

The Jim shaped wound he’d plunged into her back as he left tugged at the edges in his presence. It was in real danger of opening up again. She’d done a pretty good job of healing it without him around, or at least she’d bandaged it so thoroughly that it hid the cut beneath. 

She was fine.

She didn’t feel fine now though. 

Who was that girl? She was stunning and still had her arm loped through Jim’s. They weren’t strangers, that much was clear. 

She felt so stupid for forgetting how mad she was at him for leaving. She had hugged him. He wasn’t even hers to hug. He never had been. And he never would be. 

The realization hung over her, heavy and draining. Her shoulders slumped and she was tired in that world weary way. The funny thing about rock bottom was that it went a lot deeper than she thought. She kept thinking she had her feet firmly on it, and then she’d take another step only to stumble and fall further still. 

 

She should leave. She couldn’t be here. She didn’t belong in the same place with Jim when they were so far away from being on the same page. 

They were in separate books now. He’d made sure of that by moving across state lines to prove his point. They were done. And they’d never really had a chance to begin. 

At first she’d wondered if he had heard that she’d called off the wedding. But then Michael had sent out a staff wide email announcing it and she knew that Jim was still on the list. 

Her heart had been in her throat for days afterwards when the phone would ring or the door would open. It was never him though. 

Even now, thinking about it, she was kind of annoyed. Why hadn’t he reached out? He must have known that it wasn’t a coincidence - that with the press of his lips to hers he had unraveled the careful stitching she had done to bind her life to Roy’s. Jim had found the loose thread and tugged at it, instead of cutting it precisely like you were supposed to do, and the entire thing had fallen apart. 

 

So yeah, she was leaving. This sucked. Jim sucked. Most of all she sucked for being stupid enough to ever agree to come to this at all. 

Oh. She didn’t know how she was getting home. Did the car wait outside all evening? Had the driver said a time? 

This was not ideal. 

A waiter swept by her with a tray of champagne and suddenly a drink seemed like a very good idea. She plucked a glass as the tray was offered to her and drank deeply. 

Okay. New plan. Call Michael and get the number for the car company. It was just sensible enough to actually work. 

She sipped slower this time, and let herself take in the room. She tried to find the elements she was sure that Michael would ask her about. She barely recognized anyone. She couldn’t even see Jan in the crowd of mingling partygoers. She let herself pay some attention to the horderves passing around. Michael would be dying to know what sort of food was on offer at a big corporate party. 

Where was he anyway? And what was with the men in her life bailing on her? 

She blanched immediately at the thought. Lumping Jim and Michael into the same category was so very wrong. It wasn’t the same. It was odd for Michael though. Extremely so. 

 

Her curiosity about Michael was soon overpowered by her anger. Anger at Jim for leaving. Anger at herself for not going after him. 

What had he said earlier? I got your something… She hadn’t sent him anything. So, what exactly was he talking about? 

You know what. She didn’t care. It wasn’t worth talking to him again and enduring the angst to figure it out. Nope. No thank you.

She was going to call the car company and get out of here. 

 

She ducked into the hallway to pull her phone from her purse. 

Michael’s number rang and rang, and then it just continued ringing. No answer came. That was a slight flaw to her plan. 

Next step was to check the street for the car she supposed. Had there even been street parking on this street? She wasn’t sure how it worked in the city, but ample parking did not seem to be part of its reputation. 

She would figure it out. She had to figure it out, because what other alternative was there really. 

Her stomach rumbled and she considered the harm in darting back inside and actually sampling the food circulating the room. Jim and the candidate for his girlfriend had been deep in conversation with the CEO when she ducked out. Surely that would still be the case.

She’d been too caught up in dress selections that an appropriate hour to eat lunch had sort of come and gone unnoticed. Food would clear away some of this anger and she’d have her head on straighter to figure out how she would get home… 

 

She stepped back to the entrance, eyes searching for the platters of fancy snacks. She wondered if she could sweet talk a waiter into just leaving an entire tray in her very capable hands. 

Her gaze froze on the edge of the room. The bottom she thought she was standing solidly on shattered beneath her feet and she plunged deeper still. This was really it. Rock bottom couldn’t possibly reach further than this. 

Everything she feared, but had no right to, was instantly confirmed. Jim’s girlfriend was molded to him, her lips pressing intently against his. 

Pam gasped and clasped her hands over her mouth, wishing that she could swallow the sound and stop it from floating across the room. 

The moment it hit Jim, his eyes snapped open and flashed to her. 

She didn’t keep looking long enough to read the panic written there. 

Her appetite up and left the building and so did she. 

“Pam! Wait!” bounced up the corridor in her wake. 

 

The New York winter air was bitter. She felt if she didn’t wipe her tears away with the sleeves of her coat that they would freeze in place on her face. 

She only got as far as the steps to the building, swinging her gaze up and down the empty street and willing the town car to appear. 

The door swung open behind her and the rush of warm air only left her shivering more. 

“Pam. It wasn’t what it looked like.” 

God. Could he just leave her alone in her humiliation. 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” she managed to mumble. Her anger for him was far outweighed by her anger for herself. It all came spitting out at him though. “Just go, Jim. You’re good at that.” 

She swore she could feel the rush of air from his jaw dropping open. 

“So, what? You expected me to stick around and watch you marry him?” Gone was the jovial tone he’d been plastering on all night. Good. She could tell it wasn’t real anyway. 

“I didn’t marry him. Which you knew, and did nothing about.” 

“Did nothing about…” There was another gust of wind from the shaking of his head. She certainly wasn’t about to lift her gaze to his to confirm. “Are you kidding me, Pam?” 

She shrugged. 

“I bared my soul to you. I put all my damn cards on the table at that ridiculous poker night.” 

“And then you left.” She wasn’t proud of the way her voice cracked. Her rage was quickly draining to the same deep sorrow that haunted her every day in the office. Ugh. It would turn to weeping soon if she didn’t get a handle on it. 

“You didn’t call and tell me about the wedding. I found out secondhand. What was I supposed to do with that?” It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation. 

“What does it matter anyway?” she sniffled. “You have a girlfriend so clearly I did you a favor.” 

“Karen’s not…” 

“Spare me, Jim. I know what I saw. Or do you kiss all your friends at formal work events?” 

It was a low blow and she knew it the moment it left her mouth. Her brain caught up and she winced.

It wasn’t... She wasn’t trying to cheapen their moment. She knew it was more to him than that. It was more to her anyway. 

What did she know of him anymore… 

 

Jim had gone silent beside her. She felt him shuffle and then there was the gust of warm air of the door opening and closing. 

She was alone on the stoop. 

The tears flowed in earnest now. She had a spectacular way of always screwing it up when it came to Jim. 

New York was a busy city. If she picked a direction and started walking surely she would stumble across a subway station or a cab rank or a hotel… something. 

She’d made it all of thirty feet when a low rumble alerted her to a car idling up the street. She crossed her fingers for the town car and chanced a glance behind her. 

Of course it was some unfamiliar thing. She tucked her chin against her chest and pressed forward through the biting wind. 

The car continued creeping along behind her which she was not a fan of. She quickened her step and wondered if mace ever expired before remembering it was in her other purse anyway. 

Maybe she should stop and accept her fate. Getting plucked from the street and ultimately murdered was a fitting end to this disastrous night. 

 

There was a buzz as the window of the car wound down. “Pam. Why are you wandering the street?” 

“I’m fine,” she lied through chattering teeth, fooling absolutely no one. 

“It’s… Look. It’s not safe. Get in the car.” 

She took a few more futile steps. Jim sighed and rolled the car forward.

“I’m not going to leave you out here. If you won’t get in, I’ll drive next to you like this until you get to wherever it is you’re going.” 

He was infuriating. Couldn’t he just leave her be to struggle on the mean streets? 

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “Where I’m going.” 

“Please,” the fight was gone from his tone. “Get in. We can figure out the rest.” 

And maybe it was the sincerity ringing in his tone, or maybe it was knowing that she wouldn’t leave him on an icy sidewalk either, but she relented and settled into the passenger seat beside him. 

“Are you staying in the city?” 

She shrugged defeatedly. 

He gave her a look which spoke volumes, the lines across his face very clearly spelling out are you kidding me and would you work with me here. 

“No, really I don’t know. Michael planned this whole thing and then bailed at the last moment.” 

His expression softened. “How did you get to the city?” 

“A town car that he arranged.” 

“Huh. I find it hard to believe that Michael bailed.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I’ll drive you home.” 

“What? Jim, no. You don’t have to.”

“I want to. I… I miss you, Pam.” 

He was resolved, that much was clear. “Thank you,” she murmured and then settled back into the awkward silence. 

 

As the bright lights of the city started to thin she gasped, her head jerking wildly to the backseat and finding it empty. “What about your girlfriend?” 

“She’s not… but, you don’t believe me,” mirthless humor flickered through his tone. 

“I saw you kissing,” Pam frowned. “I don’t get why you’re trying so hard to deny it.” 

“There was mistletoe,” Jim cursed. “She kissed me… and ruined everything,” he muttered under his breath. 

“What did she ruin?” 

“You… I thought the email that you sent meant that there was a… chance.” 

The email? A chance? It was too much to process. Her mouth flapped open and, “email?” squeaked out. 

“With the ticket, asking me to be your date at the party.” He took in her dumbfounded expression. “You didn’t send it. Great. Just great. And I continue to be the world’s biggest idiot.” 

“You came,” her voice was small, a direct contrast to the emotion swelling through her. “You thought I invited you and you… came.” 

“It’s you, Pam,” he shrugged. “It’s always going to be you for me.” 

She let his words and the soft tone of his voice roll over her and then there was a ladder in her pit of despair and when she glanced skyward there was light on the horizon where before there had only been swirling, thunderous clouds. 

“It‘s,” she cleared her throat, the ache of anger no longer crushing her windpipe. “It’s you for me too. That’s why I called off my wedding.” 

She let herself look at him, her confession making her feel bolder and braver than she usually did. 

She watched the way his eyes glassed over and sparkled with hope and the way his cheeks strained under the weight of his wide smile. 

Before she could talk herself out of it, she drifted across the center console and pressed her lips to the corner of his dimpled grin. 

The heat from his resulting blush warmed the last remnants of icy New York street that had been lingering. 

“I really like your dress,” he flickered his gaze over to her. “I wanted to tell you earlier. You look really pretty, Pam.” 

She groaned. Her head falling into her hands. “How am I going to repay Michael. First this,” she nodded at her dress, “and now this,” she gestured frantically at Jim. 

“Huh?” 

“Michael. He bought this dress and he obviously sent you that email.” 

“Wow.” 

“Yeah. I’m going to have to be so nice. No more laughing when he does something so… Michael. I owe him so much.” 

“I agree with finding a way to repay him. But, you can’t quit laughing at him. That’s just not realistic. What if he wears his lucky jeans to work again?” 

“The uh, dry cleaner lost those.” She offered him a small, rueful smile. 

“My point stands. There’s always something with Michael.” 

“True,” she giggled. The sound of laughter spilling from her lips reminded her of where she was and who she was with. She realized with a start that the sound was foreign to her ears. She hadn’t heard herself laugh in an unforced natural manner in months. 

“I really missed you.” 

Jim dropped his perfect ten-two position and gripped the wheel with one hand, his other drifted over the space between them. He tangled his fingers with hers and tethered her back to happiness. “There hasn’t been a moment since I left that I haven’t been missing you.” 

 

The drive passed ridiculously quickly. She felt like she was blinking and then the outer reaches of Scranton were rolling by the window. 

She directed Jim to her apartment, doing her very best to ignore the nervous anticipation that was beginning to circulate through the cabin. 

“This is nice,” he commented as the car crunched to a stop on her curb. “What’s that on your porch? A sculpture?” 

Her brow furrowed and she followed the line of his gaze. What the hell? “No,” she shook her head. “I don’t know what that is…” 

She hurried to undo her belt. “Maybe just…” Jim slowed her with a tug to her hand. 

She squinted at the hunk of black, there was something similar about the triangular flaps hanging off the edge. “Oh,” she gasped, recognition flaring. “C’mon Jim.” 

In three long strides she was at her door. “Michael,” she murmured, shaking his shoulder gently, his long tuxedo tails dancing in the wind. He was curled up on her stoop, the dark mass his thick winter coat, covering his formal attire. “What are you doing here?” 

He startled awake. “Pam! You’re okay!” 

“Of course I’m okay. Come inside, you’re freezing.” 

“Yeah,” he grinned. And then his eyes widened comically and he gasped. “It’s…” he pointed. “Pam, it’s… It’s Jim!” 

They exchanged an amused look over Michael’s head. 

“I did this,” he breathed. “I made this happen.” 

“You sure did, Michael,” she unlocked her door and ushered their unlikely trio inside. “What are you doing here?” 

He shuffled his coat off as he stepped through her doorway. It was only then that she noticed how disheveled he was. The ends of his pants were laden with mud and his bow tie was askew. His hair stuck out in every possible direction. 

His eyes were wide as he uttered the last possible words she thought he would utter. 

“I was kidnapped.” 

 

Still December 23rd (for another forty-seven minutes)

 

“You were what?” Jim chuckled, swinging bright eyes to Pam. She pursed her lips and nodded at Michael. It was only then that Jim processed what she’d already noticed about Michael’s appearance. “Wait. You’re serious.”

“Of course, I’m serious. Why would I joke about something like this? After I escaped, I came straight here to check if Pam was okay.” 

“Michael. Have you called the police?” 

He shrugged. “I escaped. What do I need them for now?” 

Jim flicked his gaze to Pam, disbelief swimming in his eyes. 

It had her choking back a laugh. Sure, she was deeply concerned about Michael, but she had missed this so desperately, being Jim’s partner in the craziness that was their coworkers. 

“Take a seat, Michael,” she fluffed her sofa cushion encouragingly. “We’ll figure this out. Would you like a tea?” 

“Hot cocoa please,” he beamed. 

“Jim, can you help me in the kitchen?” He didn’t hesitate in following her from the room. 

 

“What do you think?” she sighed, handing Jim a pot so he could start heating the milk up on her stove. 

“As I drove into town tonight, I thought I was just dipping my toes back into Scranton and then Michael showed up and now I’ve dived in and a manatee has started speaking to me.” 

She shook her head at him. 

“It’s the same old Scranton.” 

“It sure is,” he grinned broadly at her. “Better even,” he looked pointedly at her as matching flushes of red warmed their cheeks. 

His wrist spun the spoon through the milk in rapid, tight circles. “Here,” she breathed, settling her hand over his, “like this.” She slowed his movements down with the steady press of her fingers. 

She could feel the warmth of his eyes on her face. Her cheeks pooled darker still with blush. She lifted her gaze to his from under long lashes. 

His face shifted purposefully towards her. He moved with slow, deliberate movements, giving her the time to take the out if she wanted it. 

She didn’t. 

She leant in, her lips a whisper away from his. Close enough to feel his breath coming in steady puffs. Her eyes slipped shut. She — 

“Pam!” Michael bellowed. “Don’t forget the marshmallows!” 

She cursed, Jim groaned and the moment was lost. 

“Maybe we kidnap him ourselves and finish the job.” 

“There’s an idea,” she replied dryly. “We shouldn’t joke. He might have really been in trouble.” 

“Mmm,” Jim pursed his lips. His soft, moist lips… She shook her head to clear it, but all she accomplished was to make the visions of Jim dance even more enticingly. 

“First that,” she pointed vaguely in Michael’s direction, “and then…” 

Jim seemed to understand, he ran his thumb delicately over the inside of her wrist. “Yeah,” he agreed. 

 

She pressed the hot mug into Michael’s outstretched hand. He sipped, well slurped, deeply. 

She didn’t have time for this. Not when she had everything she wanted in her kitchen, diligently washing up her pot. She wished that was a euphemism for something and not a simple statement of fact. Still, curiosity burned at how on earth Michael had managed a miracle. 

“You said you made this happen,” she gestured between them. “You sent the email, right?” 

“Email?” Michael furrowed his brow. “It was my Christmas wish! That’s how I made it happen!” 

“But, you bought the dress?”

His face scrunched further still. Pam gestured at herself. “This dress? From the mall?” 

His eyes bugged. “Woah. You got the dress, Pam! Good for you.” 

“It wasn’t you…” 

Confusion etched across her face, pinching her brow. She was sure that Michael held some of the answers she was seeking and yet he genuinely seemed surprised by her questions. 

Jim settled beside Michael on her sofa, his long legs leaving him just inches away. She itched to reach out and nudge his foot with hers.

 

She tried to wretch her thoughts away from Jim for even a second. She was playing a game of twenty questions and somehow getting further from the truth with each confused answer that slipped from Michael’s lips. 

“How about my card design?” 

He still wore the same bewildered, but generally delighted at the turn of events expression. 

“I can’t believe my Christmas wish was so powerful. It made so much happen!” 

“Neither can I,” she murmured, Jim’s shoulders rose and fell as he shared in her confusion. 

 

“I think the more pressing matter is actually what happened to Michael. We can solve the Christmas mystery after that,” Jim suggested. “I really do think that we might need to call the police.” 

“Ahh,” Michael waved his hands. “We don’t need to bother them.”

Pam chewed on her bottom lip and eyed Michael carefully. “Michael. Do you know who kidnapped you?” 

“No, don’t be ridiculous,” he answered with his gaze on the ceiling, pointedly avoiding Pam’s prying eyes. 

“Uh huh,” she murmured, sharing a look with Jim. 

“This has Dwight Schrute written all over it,” he spoke her thoughts into existence. 

Michael huffed. “What? No. That’s… what are you doing?” 

Jim dialed Dwight’s number. “Did you kidnap, Michael?” He asked without preamble. 

“Jim. You no longer work for Dunder Mifflin Scranton. I am under no obligation to share details about my dealings with you.” 

Jim hung up the phone. 

Pam reached for her cell. “Hi Dwight,” she greeted gently. “How are you?” 

“I’m well thank you, Pamela. What can I do for you?”

“Did you kidnap Michael?”

“Kidnap is such a heavy handed term. I merely offered Michael a bag of candy to get into my vehicle and he accepted that offer.” 

“That’s a surprisingly textbook definition of a kidnapping,” Jim murmured, his tone low enough to escape Dwight’s notice. Pam shivered at his breath, warm on her neck as his lips formed the words. She hadn’t noticed that he’d leant forward, canting his entire body towards her to listen in on her conversation with Dwight. 

Awareness rolled through her, a wave gathering momentum as it rushed towards the shore. 

“And then what happened?”

“After that, we formed a gentleman’s agreement. Michael had to stay with me for an hour and I let him keep the candy.” 

“Why?” 

“To delay him from attending the party.”

“So, you did it all? The email? The dress? The card? It was all you?”

“Sure,” he answered easily. And yet she disconnected the call feeling as if she hadn’t really figured anything out at all. She’d added two and two together and come up with… Dwight. The only thing she was certain of was that the answer presented to her didn’t feel like a four. 

 

December 24th 

 

It was after midnight when she ushered Michael out her front door and into the crisp night air. 

Jim had offered to drive him home and she found herself alone with only her harried thoughts for company. 

What did she gain by solving this Christmas mystery? Did she just accept the gift and let a little bit of magic linger in the season. 

Her conversation with Dwight had been wholly unsatisfying. She had no doubt that he had been instrumental in preventing Michael from coming. But the card? The dress? The email? 

She added all the pieces together again and again and it didn’t add up to Dwight. It just didn’t. 

Which spun her back around to her earlier thought. Did it matter? Should she simply take it for what it was and celebrate what it had accomplished.

She was reconciled with Jim. And she was sure that they were something now. There would be no settling for friendship for either of them, the current of awareness buzzing between them made sure of that. It was potent enough that it could power an entire city. 

She couldn’t even begin to perceive the joy that came with that. It was too much. The whole thing was completely overwhelming. 

She was glad for the moment alone to even pretend to compose herself ever so slightly. She found she didn’t really need it though. She was composed. She was ready for this. 

 

So much so, that when Jim walked back through her door chuckling wryly at the Michael of it all, she let him see the determination in her gaze and that was that. 

He had barely made it over the threshold and latched the door in place when she stepped into the circle of his arms and made her intentions very clear. 

He stepped back a little nervously at her approach, the door at his back halting his movement. She brushed her lips softly over his, giving him the option to refuse her if he wanted to. She pulled back, just an inch so she could look him in the eyes and gauge his reaction. 

He released a slightly strangled breath and peppermint floated through the air. 

The knowledge that he’d had the foresight to chew a mint on his drive back to her buoyed her instantly. She grinned at him, a wide bright delighted smile. He answered her with his own toothy grin, eyes lit up with all the warmth of a star atop a tree. 

And then they both moved, drawn together by a silent plea for more. His hands framed her face, the gloves that he’d just removed dropping to the floor, already forgotten. 

She crushed her mouth back to his, gone the careful nervousness. He answered her eagerly, his lips parting instantly. 

 

Somewhere between him spinning them and pressing her flush against the door and her steadily unbuttoning his shirt there was a unanimous decision that he really would like to finish the tour of her apartment, starting with her bedroom. This was agreed upon to be an inspired idea. 

It wasn’t until her dress pooled at her feet, crinkled and forgotten that she realized there was no returning it now. 

She couldn’t find it within herself to muster an ounce of regret. She didn’t even mind if it meant she was in debt to Dwight for the rest of all time if this was her payoff. 

 

She woke many hours later entwined in warmth. It took a few moments for the awareness of the night’s events to come rushing back to her. 

It was then she registered that the heat surrounding her was Jim’s arms, cradling her against his chest. 

This was different to anything she was used to. Her routine with Roy had been a habitual peck goodnight and then they rolled in different directions. If she strayed too close to his side during night, he would generally push her away because “it’s just too hot, babe.” 

She didn’t feel too hot now. She felt warm, but it was a different type of warmth altogether. It started deep in her chest and radiated outwards, floating out to each of her limbs leaving her feeling languid and completely content. 

She turned as gently as she could within the cove of Jim’s arms and brought her hand between them to trace the planes of his chest. 

His eyelids flickered at her movements. She hadn’t meant to wake him, but oh well. 

He squinted an eye half open, “tickles,” he breathed. 

“Whoops,” she answered and made no move to stop. 

And then recognition flared and he jolted ever so slightly. “Good morning?” She liked the confusion coloring his tone still thick with sleep. 

“It is,” she agreed. 

He offered round full eyes now and she watched the same emotions play out across his face that she was sure were on her own. They searched each other’s gaze for a hint of regret and finding none, both slipped into wide, awed smiles. 

His arms tightened around her and she let herself drift forward. He kissed her squarely on the mouth. Good morning indeed. 

“I have to meet Penny for breakfast,” she admitted reluctantly. 

He sighed and loosened his grip. “I’m supposed to be driving to my parents today.” 

“So, last night was less grand gesture and more about conveniently avoiding the traffic,” she teased. 

He quirked a brow at her. “If that’s how you feel maybe I should charge you the standard cab fare.” 

She chuckled. “And how much would that be exactly?”

He tucked a finger under her chin and melded his lips with hers. 

When she regained her faculties enough to continue breathing she gasped in mock outrage. “One ride home and I’ve been forced into prostitut—” 

“Hey now,” Jim laughed. 

“How about this? I’ll give you,” she counted her fingers theatrically, “four homemade Christmas cookies.” 

“Or…” he stretched it out as if he was deliberating it seriously. “You take it for the grand gesture that it was.” 

She pretended to consider it thoughtfully, pursing her lips. “Deal.” 

“Can I still have the cookies?” He leveled her with his best puppy dog eyes. 

“Hmm. I’ll consider it.” 

Her phone chirped and she frowned. “That’ll be Penny saying she’s on her way,” she admitted reluctantly. 

“I want to spend Christmas with you,” Jim murmured, his eyes locking intently on hers. 

The warmth she’d felt waking up sparked brightly back to her awareness. 

 

December 25th 

 

Despite having to hustle him out the door after he’d made declarations about the holidays that had caused her heart to stutter excitedly in her chest, Pam once again woke to Jim’s arms binding her tightly to his chest. 

They’d spoken on the phone the previous afternoon about trying to find a time to meet again amongst the chaos of a multitude of family commitments tugging at them from both sides. Then, when it seemed their schedules wouldn’t align, there had been a knock on her door and there Jim had stood with a bashful smile. “I had to run an errand and I was driving past and I couldn’t not stop…” he had admitted. 

She hadn’t answered him with words, instead she let her actions speak by grasping him by the lapels and tugging him over the threshold. He came all too willingly. He hadn’t made it back to his parents. 

 

She wasn’t sure what came after this. But it was Christmas and they were together. All that mattered was this moment. 

After this there would be distance, but the distance was surmountable - especially in comparison to everything else they’d already overcome. 

Jim’s phone buzzed and she was reminded of the multitude of outside commitments that awaited them. Christmas lunches to be had with both their families. Gifts to be opened with his nieces and nephews. Traditions with her sister to uphold. 

“I stand by what I said yesterday,” Jim groaned as he released her with one arm to reach for his still vibrating cell. 

She hummed a response. 

“That I’d rather spend Christmas with you,” he explained. 

Time felt precious, a little like the magic of the season would expire at midnight and he’d be left holding a glass slipper and all she’d have would be a pumpkin. It was irrational and completely at odds with the certainty she now felt of them. Still, she wanted to hang on to the magic for as long as she could. 

What had she ever gained by being sensible all the time? Nothing. All she could picture were the years that had slipped away and been lost with Roy. She didn’t want to lose anything when it came to Jim, but it was the opposite she feared, that time with him would slip away too quickly, a rapidly melting marshmallow in hot cocoa. 

“I feel a migraine coming on, in about, oh, two hours,” she winked at Jim. 

“What a coincidence,” he beamed. “I have a stomachache penciled in for then too.” 

 

December 26th 

 

Work greeted her with its usual dullness and she decided that she couldn’t let it go. 

She needed to distract herself from how despondent she felt about Jim kissing her with the frantic desperation of a soldier leaving for the battlefield when he’d climbed into his car and started for Stamford this morning. Even though they’d agreed to a phone date each evening. Even though he was coming back over the weekend to see in the New Year with her. 

It was still a loss and she ached accordingly. 

So she wasn’t letting it go. 

She needed something to keep herself from falling headfirst into a pit of a despair - a place she was unfortunately all too familiar with.

There was only one logical place to start, so that’s where she did. 

 

She tried to ignore the pang in her chest at Ryan in Jim’s desk as she accosted Dwight at his. Ugh she missed him so pathetically already. It was a vastly different form of missing though. There was no hopelessness, just the tediousness of counting down the seconds until sweet reunion. It ached with awareness, but it didn’t hurt. 

“Dwight,” she confronted a little curtly, but hey, she was in a mood. “What color was the dress?”

“Oh you know,” he scoffed, arms waving aimlessly. “That, that color you like.”

“Blue?”

“Yes. That’s it. Blue.” He folded his arms and smiled like he’d managed to pull the wool over her eyes and not the other way around. 

She glared at him a little. It seemed Dwight was the frustrating dead end that she had expected him to be. To have it confirmed was that exactly: frustrating… and a dead end. 

 

She was on the cusp of calling a conference room meeting and demanding answers when sanity prevailed. 

Well, sanity on the Dunder Mifflin scale. She would still demand answers, but she would do it via email. Someone out there knew what had happened and what did she have to lose by asking? 

Sending a mass email to all her coworkers prompted another investigative avenue. She dove into her outbox and there it was, an email to Jim complete with the invitation to the party. She carefully considered the time stamp. 

It had been sent the day after Michael had confirmed that she had won the competition, during her lunch break if she had to guess. She wracked her memory, searching for anything out of the ordinary. 

It took her a few moments of chewing her lip before it came back to her. A moment. Dwight ushering her into the annex at the end of her break, insisting that Kelly needed a reminder about the call forwarding function. She’d found it peculiar at the time, because Dwight had asked Kelly how things were going with Ryan and nodded in all the appropriate places and ten minutes had disappeared before Kelly had stopped to draw breath. Then Pam had asked her about the call forwarding thing and Kelly had given her a weird look and called Dwight an idiot for even suggesting it and that was that. 

It had been odd, but on a scale from generic Dwight to full Recyclops it barely registered. 

Another instance of Dwight the accomplice… But it couldn’t be, because there was only one person that Dwight would do crazy favors for and that was Michael. Unless… but she quickly shook that thought from her head because it was absolutely ridiculous. 

 

It seemed her email plea was fruitful. Oscar hesitantly approached reception. “Any messages?” he asked a little too loudly. He flicked his gaze over his shoulder and then nodded to the doorway. She followed him out. 

Oscar’s tone was puzzled, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was saying. “Pam,” he ushered her further into the hallway. “Angela and I keep a surplus. It’s a,” he looked around making sure that nobody was close enough to overhear and then he leaned in and whispered. “It’s an account we use to counteract when Kevin makes a mistake.” He offered a slightly apologetic curl of his lips. “It’s happened before, on numerous occasions and we’ve learnt it’s best to be prepared.” 

“Okay…” 

“I’m only telling you this because Angela dipped into it last week for an expense. She gave me the usual Kevin eye roll, but he’d been doing busy work all week. There was nothing he really could have screwed up.” 

“Do you know how much it was?” 

He flicked another cautious glance back towards the door and leaned in, his voice barely a hush as he told her the figure. 

“Oh.” 

She’d seen that number before, on the price tag of her dress. 

And there it was. The only other person that Dwight would do insane favors for. Another piece of the puzzle slotted into place and yet it still didn’t add up. There was a who, but the why… 

 

“Thank you.” 

Angela’s hands stilled over her keyboard, but she did not look up and meet Pam’s eyes. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied stiffly. 

The email that she’d sent had made it pretty clear just what Pam might be thanking someone for, but she understood what Angela was saying. She didn’t want it acknowledged. Pam had the answer, even if it baffled her beyond belief. 

In that moment she decided that the greatest kindness she could do Angela in repaying her was not to make a big deal of it. 

“I’d like to understand why?” she finally settled on saying. 

Angela sighed and turned to glare at her. 

Well, it was a resolution of sorts. She would just have to contend herself with that and analyze Angela’s possible motivation in great detail with Jim when he called tonight. Maybe he would have more of a clue at where her inexplicable bout of kindness may have stemmed from. 

 

“Did you figure it out?” Michael bounded towards her in eagerness as she sat at her desk absentmindedly doodling on a post-it later that afternoon. 

She cast her gaze towards accounting. “Yeah. I think I have.” She could see the way Angela stiffened at her words. 

“And?” Michael bounced impatiently on the balls of his feet. 

“It was your Christmas wish, Michael. You did this.” She smiled gently at him and his face erupted in shocked glee. 

“I did this,” he beamed. “My heart soars with the eagles nest!” 

She allowed herself to chance another glance at accounting and saw that Angela’s cheeks were twisted in the makings of a smile. She punched at her keyboard and rolled her eyes at Michael’s theatrics because she was Angela after all, but she met Pam’s eyes in a look of muted shared understanding and it was enough. 

 

Or at least Pam thought it was enough. She reconciled herself with it being enough. 

The rest of the day slipped away. Pam lingered in the office for a moment, letting herself revel in the way it didn’t weigh on her to be present at work any longer. 

She hadn’t realized Angela was still around until she stopped at reception, clearing her throat pointedly. “It was the right thing to do.” Her keys dangled from her hand, she wrapped her fingers around the WWJD keychain that held them together and almost smiled at Pam. “I was reminded recently that it’s important to do the right thing.” 

“So, you didn’t just miss Pam-Pong?” Pam grimaced at her own words. Here was Angela being sincere and she had slipped into her default of responding to anything she said with just a touch of snark to match Angela’s usual tone. 

“How do you think I found your half decent Christmas card design?” Angela’s eyes gleamed with something that was within the realm of humor. 

Pam gasped, a tiny puff of air, in actual delight. “It was all you.”

Angela scoffed. “Of course it was. Every part of it. These idiots couldn’t pull off a thing.” 

“Thank you. If there’s ever anything you need.” But Angela was already out the door, and her thanks were lost to the empty office. 

She was struck with the thought that Angela must know that she knew and already felt as if Pam was doing her a favor. It’s not like she’d ever planned on telling anyone that Angela and Dwight were secretly dating, but this only solidified that decision. 

She had her answers and they were almost as unbelievable as if it had purely been Michael’s Christmas wish. There really was something special about Christmas that made everything seem far more possible. Angela had extended an almost unfathomable amount of kindness in her direction. Almost as if she’d been a broken string of lights and Angela had painstakingly twisted each bulb to fix the fault. 

Angela. It really was something. 

 

She had only just made it through her door when her phone shrilled insistently. 

“Pam!” His voice was a balm to a distant pain she hadn’t even been consciously aware of. 

“Hey,” she breathed, instantly finding it easier to do so. 

His tone was overflowing with exuberance. “There’s going to be a merger. The Scranton branch is absorbing the Stamford branch.” 

“What?” she managed to gasp. 

“I’m moving back!” 

It seemed that there was a little magic left in the season after all. Somehow it managed to be the gift that just kept on giving and giving and giving. It left with her with one lingering question: how the hell had Angela managed that?!