“I liked your bangs,” She laughed, pushing his hair down below his eyebrows. “I miss this,” she pouted playfully. 

Jim’s hand made his way to his forehead, moving strands out of his eyes, a smile on his lips as he pulled her closer to him, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, as she melted into him. The softness of his undershirt against her cheek, and she pushed her legs out further on their couch, finding her favorite spot, right upon his crossed thigh. Once she was comfortable, he ran a finger through her curls, pulling a piece to the back of her head, 

“Well I liked your barrettes” 

With a snort she turned her head upward to face him, 

“I can’t believe you know what those are called,” she giggled, and his hand rested against her cheek, his own blushing slightly. The room was quiet for a few moments, the only sound being the white noise from the baby monitor just inches away from them. With a glance he looked at the monitor, staring at Cecelia sleeping in her crib finally without needing to be rocked first. 

Pam sighed, her fingers wrapping around his, she loved the feeling of his hand against her face. She remembered a time when his hands were slightly softer. It was before days of building cribs, and fixing leaky gutters. 

“Do you ever miss,” she stopped. 

“What?” he prodded, 

“It’s silly,” she smiled, “let’s just watch the movie,” she went to pick up the remote.

“C’mon,” he gave her a toothy grin, and it was all she needed to spill whatever it was that she was thinking or feeling in that moment. 

“Remember when you made me dinner?” 

“You mean like, yesterday?” he snorted, “Yes Pam, I do remember making you spaghetti and meatballs from a bag last night. Very gourmet,” 

“No, no,” She sat up, and pulled herself into his lap, Jim’s arms methodically moving around her frame as they had so many times before. 

“Grilled cheese. When you made me grilled cheese, with Angela’s tomato?” 

“Yeah, I remember that,” and the way my cheeks felt warm from the wind whipping on the rooftop, 

“Remember Dwigt?” 

“I do,” she could feel his smile behind her, and how I was up that night until far past three in the morning adding new music to my ipod, so I could share it with you again soon 

“Do you ever miss that?” 

His mind shifted to the present, his eyebrows furrowing, 

“Pam, I,” he cleared his throat, “I wanted to be with you so badly,” 

The mood had shifted, and so did her position, “I know,” she pulled him in for a kiss. She let her tongue slip into his mouth, gliding over his teeth before flicking it against his lip. 

“You were right,” a thumb wiped the leftover chapstick off his lips, he raised an eyebrow curiously. 

“About that night. We danced,” 

There was silence, 

“I said you were right, we didn’t sway, we danced,” 

“What are you saying?” he shifted his leg, it had fallen asleep, 

Pam brushed her ear against her shoulder and sighed, “Sometimes,” she looked to the baby monitor, she felt tears in the corners of her eyes forming, 

“Hey.” that look of concern, the way his voice slightly lifts up at the end, and a hand quick to her arm, 

“Sometimes the baby is just a lot.” She knew the tears would fall if she kept talking and she damned the post pregnancy hormones. 

He nodded, knowing full well his exhaustion from becoming a father one day and life changing instantly, was nothing compared to the work Pam was doing for their child daily. Her body went through enormous changes just to bring the baby, their baby, in the world. And then there was everything after the birth. Cece was the best thing that had ever happened to them, but she was also the hardest thing they’d ever done together. 

“Waking up in the middle of the night, and not really sleeping, and she’s just so fussy all the time,”  she felt a falling tear wiped away. 

“Sometimes I miss before,” her head tilted downward, her eyes maintaining a spot on the couch that was most definitely spilled milk, and it most definitely had been cried over. 

“Me too,” it was quiet, and from somewhere deep in his throat. 

She looked up, “This is hard,” she felt completely depleted, and she wished for just a moment she had him entirely to herself. That for just a moment it was the two of them, simply pining over each other. 

“It is hard, but we’ve done hard.” 

His eyes fixated on hers, “giving birth to Cece was so hard, do you remember the scratches you left on my hand?” a sheepish smile spread over his face, another tear wiped. 

“You going to art school was hard. I literally missed you every second you weren’t with me,” She nodded enthusiastically at him, letting more tears spill over. 

“Waiting for you, was so so hard,” 

“Cece? Yeah, she’s hard. But Pam you are so brave, and strong, and we’re great parents. You’re a great Mom. And before you even know it? She’s going to grow up, and you know what? It’ll be a new type of hard. She probably will be a huge pain-very sassy,” 

She laughed, “Probably,” 

“The point is, it’s okay to miss that. I miss it,” 

“You do?” 

“Yeah, of course I do- I miss every moment with you that has passed,” he heard the soft whimpers coming from the camera on the coffee table, 

She welled up once again, “I love you,” Pam went to stand up, 

“You stay right here, and when I get back we’ll sway,” 

“Dance,” she corrected him. 

“Dance,” he repeated. 

“Dad,” Jim positioned the nail in his mouth carefully moving it around so he could respond at the top of the ladder, 

“Hmph?” he replied, banging the last nail into the shingle and removing the one pursed between his lips. 

“Dad, that ladder is real tall,” 

“Yeah Phil, it is, did you need something?” He was trying to hide the annoyance in his voice, the fall wind whipping his hair in his face. He only had a few more shingles to replace before it was game time, and then time to make dinner while Pam taught one of her art classes. 

“Um,” Phil moved his ball cap up and down on his head, attempting to remember what it was he was sent for outside in the first place. 

“C’mon buddy, I need to finish this before Mom has to leave,” 

His eyes widened, “Oh that’s right, Mom said you need to come inside, something about Cece,” 

“Right now?” he let out a sigh. Work had been insane the past few weeks, new contracts, new contacts, and deals that kept him late at work almost every evening. These rare moments he had to fix a few things on the house, or slip away with Pam upstairs for a few perfect moments together, or time to throw the ball around with the kids-he cherished. Today though, today he was tired. He slept terribly the night before (a certain eight year old boy made his way into the center of his bed), the roof decided to leak after a rainstorm right into their master bedroom, and the kids had eaten the last of his bagels, and to be honest, he was kind of annoyed by it. 

“Jim!” he closed his eyes as he heard the hollar from inside the house, that was his cue to go. 

“Told you,” Phil laughed, and ran into the house, Jim in tow behind him. 

He slipped his boots off inside the door, and hung up his well loved Phillies hat on the rack in their mudroom. Pam moved quickly to the door frame, her cheeks flushed, and not in the way he loved after they’d been together, but with concerned brows and beads of sweat on her forehead. 

“What’s going on?” His own eyebrows met toward the brim of his nose, as he pulled her toward him. 

“Something’s wrong with Cece,” when Philip ran by, a dinosaur figure in each hand, she quieted her voice, “she’s been sick all morning, throwing up, complaining her stomach hurts, and I went upstairs and she’s burning up,” 

“She’s got a bug, Pam,” he let his arms drop, “she probably just needs to sleep,” 

“Jim,” her eyes met his with a serious note, “I told her about the trip to Scranton for Thanksgiving,” she bit her lip, “she didn’t say a thing,” 

He broke her gaze and motioned toward the stairs. “I’m going to go check on her,” 

It’s genetic he tried to push these thoughts out of his head as he bounded up the stairs, two at a time. she’s just a little girl 

He found her leaning over her bed, the bathroom trash can at her feet, and her head was nearing the entrance. 

“Cece,” he stood in the door frame, she didn’t move,

“Cecelia,” he lowered his voice to get her attention. When she lifted her head up to look at him, she was drenched in her own sweat, her face pale and grey. 

“What’s going-” it was in a moment that she had been seated upright and suddenly was on the floor, before she could hit her head, his hand had made its way under it and he’d scooped her up. “Honey,” he shook her slightly with no response. 

“Babe, get the keys,” he curled her small frame toward him, bounding downstairs, “I think it’s her appendix,” 

“Shouldn’t I just call an ambulance?” 

“I’m faster, just throw me the keys, stay here with Phil, and I’ll call you as soon as we’re there,” 

Pam’s eyes bulged, “do not drive her, you shouldn’t be driving right now, I’m going to call 911,” 

Before she could stop him, he’d headed out into the autumn morning, and into their car, covering Cece’s tiny body in the backseat, his breaks squealed as he peeled out the driveway. 

She grabbed her cellphone and made a quick phone call, “Phil, grab some underwear and a toothbrush,” she called out to her youngest. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Come on, let’s go.” 

*** 

He paced. Black coffee in one hand, his car keys in the other as he moved back and forth through the waiting room of the children’s hospital. The other individuals in the lobby seemed calmer, less anxious, less...like terrible parents. 

“Daddy it hurts,” 

He pressed his fingers to his nose pushing as hard as he could before a loud honking behind him took him out of his trance to take him to his office.  

“I am an awful father,” his hand was in his hands, his shirt untucked and strands of hair frantically stood out. 

“You’re not an awful father,” Pam took a sip of his now cold coffee, made a face, and sat it down on the side table. It had only taken her fifteen minutes of coaxing to get her husband to relax and sit down. 

“She told me she was sick, I should have listened to her,” 

“Jim, that was two days ago, we didn’t know. It’s not your fault,” 

He continued to shake his head, rubbing his hands vigorously over his face, his clear show of anxiety. 

“Listen, the doctor said she’s going to be totally fine, it’s a simple procedure and she’ll-” 

He sat up quickly, looking at her, and for the first time in a long time, she saw tears in his eyes. 

“Jim?” her voice softened, and she moved her legs toward his attempting to get as close as she could to him without moving into his own chair. 

“When we got here,” he coughed, he wiped the side of his face, “she was asleep, and they gave her pain medication and they just took her away and,” 

She made no move to speak. 

“Nope. Nope,” Jim stood, walking toward the glass windows, it had become dusk so quickly, winter was approaching. 

Pam waited a second before joining him by the window. His forehead was leaving a small condensation smudge on the glass. 

“She’s going to be okay,” it was barely a whisper, 

“She’s angry with me, I haven’t been listening to her at all,” 

“What?” she scrunched her nose,

“I’m not listening to her, Pam. I’m not hearing her,” he turned to his wife, “she hates softball. She’s probably hated it for the last few years and I haven’t paid close enough attention to even notice it. And then this?” his voice lifted, “She told me she was sick, and I just ignored it, and talked to her about sports and I just,” his fist pounded the glass; stares met his eyes from others in the room. 

“It’s different with her,” he let the drops fall, the corners of his mouth turning downward, and this boyish Jim in front of her was unfamiliar and unsettling, and yet she loved him even all the more for it. She pulled his tall frame into hers, and wrapped her arms underneath his arms and held him close. 

“You’re a good Dad,” she whispered to him, “She loves you, so much.” Pam’s hand softened the back of his hair. 

“I don’t feel like one. What if something happens? What if-” 

“Mr. and Mrs. Halpert?” their eyes moved to the open doors, “You can come back and see your daughter now, she’s starting to wake up,” a soft smile was on the doctors’ face as she turned and led them back. 

It’s you I like, every part of you, your skin, your eyes, your feelings, whether old or new, I hope that you’ll remember even when you’re feeling blue that it’s you I like, it’s you yourself, it’s you.” 

Her eyes felt so heavy, and she swore she could hear a trolley going by, beeping every now and then, going in and out of the tunnel. She thought of King Friday, Daniel Tiger, and even Prince Tuesday. She felt her lips turn up at the corners, with a sigh of content, she settled down further in the unfamiliar bed. There was that beeping again, and this time, she was able to open her eyes just enough to notice the machines lighting up the dimly lit room around her. 

“Cece,” Pam jolted across the bed, wrapping her arms around her daughter, pulling her toward her. 

“Mom,” it was groggy and tired, “hurts,” she mumbled, she released her, and pushed bangs out of Cece’s eyes, 

She turned to her right and found her father, knees against the bed rail, his chair lifted up in the bag, as he leant in toward her. 

“Hi,” it was a familiar smile in a gruff voice, as though he hadn’t spoken for hours. Pam caught his eye. 

“Hey,” Cece muttered, she brought a hand up to her own face, wiping the side of her mouth, she caught sight of the IV in her hand and winced. 

“You’re okay,” she looked to her mother. 

“What happened?” She felt suddenly anxious, tears stung her eyes. 

Jim cleared his throat, sitting back in the chair he was in, waiting for Pam to step in, to fill Cece in on the last few hours but she didn’t, she just nodded at him. Unfamiliar territory, he wanted to surrender. He wanted to just get in the bed with her, hold her close, and sing, rub her hair, anything to make her feel better. Sometimes words were much harder. 

“Um,” he put his hand over hers, closing it around her palm, “Honey, you remember feeling pretty sick?” 

“My belly really hurts,” the tears fell on her cheeks, anesthesia can make children often upset when they wake up, it’s completely normal 

“I know, and you’re going to be fine,” he stopped himself, 

“You know what,” she continued to stare, waiting for answers, “you had appendicitis, and I should have known before, because you got really sick, and I shouldn’t have let that happen, and it could have been much worse” he swallowed hard, hoping she wouldn’t see the absolute fear in his eyes, and in his voice that he’d completely and totally screwed up as a parent...again. 

“Dad.” She had a tell. When she wanted him to listen, she’d done the same thing since she was old enough to talk. She’d grab his face between her hands and put her forehead on his own-it was her call to attention. 

He felt a sigh of relief and a lump deep in his throat, “It’s okay, I’m okay. Do you hear me?” She kissed his head and leaned back in the bed, looking so small in such a big bed. 

“I hear you,” it was more of a promise. 

Pam sighed, wiping her own tears away, and grabbing tissues from her purse, 

“There’s something I want to talk to you about Cece,” 

She bit her lip, 

“I can’t play the game this weekend Dad, this hurts too much,” 

He let a small laugh escape from his lips, “Sweetie, you’re going to be on the couch for a while,” she laughed, a hand to her stomach wincing in pain. “But seriously, no more games.” Her eyes widened,

“What?” 

“You don’t have to play softball anymore, or basketball. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. And if you don’t want to take horseback riding lessons you don’t-” 

“No, no,” she put a hand out to stop him, “No, Daddy, I want to keep riding horses,” she gave him a small smile, “are you sure you don’t want me to keep playing?” 

“I shouldn’t have pushed you, and I’m sorry. If I was paying attention to anything else other than your pitching arm for the last five years, I probably would have noticed how miserable you were,” 

“It’s kinda boring,” she smirked, 

“Yeah,” he didn’t feel his heart sink as he expected, he was just glad she was here, that she was okay, and he never wanted to relive the last few hours. 

She looked up at the television that was off in the corner, “Were you guys watching tv?” 

Pam giggled, “No honey, it was off this entire time,” 

Jim just smiled at her, standing up and pulling her close to him. The voice was quiet, shaky, as it always had been, and the familiar song in her ear had her asleep again just moments later. There are many ways to say I love you, just by being there when things are sad and scary, just by being there, being there, to say I love you 

“So, you’re working at a paper company in Scranton.” She smiled from behind her straw, he couldn’t help but grin back and nod slowly, awaiting the question. 

“And you have a degree in sports marketing?” Again, he nodded, picking up a French fry and popping it in his mouth. A spot of ketchup fell on his shirt collar without his notice. 

“So, do you just like, really like paper?” Pam let a giggle escape, resting her hand against her cheek. 

“Little do you know, I happen to have a real passion for paper” 

“You do not,” her eyes rolling, 

“No, no I definitely do. I just love paper so much, that selling it every day was my dream, Pam” 

She couldn’t stop smiling at his rosy cheeks, his bangs falling slightly in his eyes, and the way he was fixed on her own face. Her stomach rolled inside, causing a tickling all the way up to her shoulders. She shuddered.

“Oh, are you cold?” He immediately took off his grey suit jacket that was far too big for his lanky frame, “here,” he went to hand it to her and she hesitated. She wasn’t cold, but she was curious about how that jacket smelled, and the way it would feel against her arms. 

She took it from across the table and draped it over her shoulders, turning from side to side, showing it off, cheekily. 

“Very nice, a perfect fit,” he sipped his coke, 

“Tell me about you? I’m sure you don’t want to answer phones forever?” 

Her smile faded a bit, “Dunder Mifflin is just,” she glanced out the window, “Convenient,” 

“Is it close to your apartment?” He gave her a small smile noticing the difference immediately in the atmosphere. 

“Something like that,” she pushed a rogue curl out of her face. 

“Alright- dream job- money is no concern- go” he hunched down pressing her, his eyes squinting. He wanted to know everything he possibly could before the hour long lunch was up. 

Pam felt her cheeks warm up, “I want to be an artist,” 

His eyes widened with interest, “yeah? What kind?” 

“A painter I guess,” she fiddled with her fingernail,  she hadn’t told anyone this. Certainly not Roy. 

“Are you any good?” 

“I dunno,” she fiddled with the ketchup bottle between them, 

“Excuse me,” Jim looked toward the server in the small diner, and she came over to their table, “we’re actually going to need that kids menu—with umm two packs of crayons please,” he gave her a charming smile, the older woman in the apron rolled her eyes and walked to the front of the restaurant. 

“Jim,” her blush had turned to a full on beet red. 

“No, no, I have to know if you’re good or not,” his attempt to be serious was making her laugh all the harder. 

When the paper menu was placed, and the crayons brought over, he flipped it over to the blank side. 

“Alright, draw me,” 

She laughed with embarrassment, “no way, I’ve known you like six hours,” 

“Oh okay,” Jim reached over grabbing the crayons, “too much pressure I totally get it- let me help you,” 

“What are you-“ she fell into a fit of laughter as he grabbed the squeeze ketchup bottle and drew a circle of ketchup on her sheet. 

“Here- I got you started. My face. It’s perfect,” he handed her the bottle, a smirk drawn all over his face. 

Her mouth hung open in shock, “Are you joking?” Pam held her fist against her mouth, trying to stifle a laugh. “Who are you?” the giggles spilling out. 

“Come on, draw my pretty locks, you got this” he encouraged pushing his bangs out of his face, his eyes drifting up and to the side. She felt her stomach jump again. 

She awkwardly held the bottle and with light strokes gave him long stringy ketchup hair, a set of eyes and an elongated smile. She finished with a tie below his head. 

“Where’s my arms?” He balked,

She drew two little lines from his head “better?” 

He grabbed a French fry off his plate, ran it through his “bangs” and took a bite. 

“It’s true,” he said through chews, “you’re an artist. This was perfect” 

She shook her head at him and at the smeared paper menu that was now starting to leaks. 

“We’re never going to be able to show our faces here again,”

“Well I don’t think-“ 

She’d cut him off “Oh crap, it’s time to go back,” she frowned thinking about the last few hours of the day, and then the rest of the evening. The part she dreaded the most these days. 

“Do you maybe want to,” 

She’d forgotten, her engagement ring was on her desk, she’d taken it off that morning to clean it and forgot to put it back on. 

“Oh um,” she swallowed, he turned his head in curiosity, 

“Im engaged,” it sounded like more of a question. 

“Oh,” he coughed, the smile fading a bit, but for just a moment. As quick as it has left and he felt his heart sink, he quipped, “well, we better get back before Michael thinks I quit on my first day,” 

“It wouldn’t be the first time that happened,” Pam gave him a warm smile and followed him out the doors. 

“Well, I have a feeling I’ll be here a while,” he murmured. 

He had no idea how long that would be. 

“That show was awful,” Karen rolled her eyes getting into their shared bed, the city lights dancing against the hotels’ blank walls. 

“We only saw the second act!” Jim laughed, slipped off his button down, and glancing in the mirror at this new Jim. His hair felt weird, he kept feeling phantom bangs the entire day, and his neck was irritated from the clean shave. I guess it’s for the best,<I> he thought to himself, and moved under the covers. 

“It’s beautiful here isn’t it?” She pulled herself close to his warm frame, an arm draping over his stomach. 

“Mmm,” he mumbled, trying to close his eyes, the nerves about tomorrow’s interview beginning to creep up into his stomach. it’s loud here his mind drifted to the honking and sirens coming from just below the hotel. Granted, they were staying in midtown, but he was not a city boy. He had no idea how to get around, and frankly from the moment the left their hotel he’d felt anxiety. He chalked it up to the interview and everything that rested on a potential major promotion, but in reality it was New York. 

He remembered a trip into the city with his father when he was a child. He loved seeing the dinosaurs at the national history museum, but once, just once, he found himself lost. He’d gotten distracted by an exhibit down the hall on mummies, and mentioning to his Dad he’d be right back, there had been a miscommunication and within minutes they’d become separated on a busy Saturday afternoon. 

His father insisted they’d only separated from each other a total of 7 minutes, but it felt as though he’d been running between exhibits for hours. His cheeks burned with tears, afraid to call out “Dad” too many times. He’d been warned about strangers, especially in the city, and so he just continued to look for his father behind every corner. When he finally was reunited, finding his equally distressed Dad talking to a security guard, he wrapped his arms around his waist as tightly as he could. 

He wouldn’t go back to the city for two years after that, it took a lot of coaxing and a lesson in how brave he really was. After all, he did call 9-1-1 when his brother fell out of their treehouse and broke his arm. He even stayed calm while they waited for their parents to return home and the ambulance to come, and he hadn’t made fun of his bigger brother for crying when he was in so much pain. The truth was, he didn’t want to ever see anyone in that much pain again. 

But Jim was older now, and no amount of coaxing could convince him that he was ready for this promotion, ready for this potential move to the city, or ready for this commitment with Karen. He glanced over at her, she was already asleep, her dark hair strewn across her face. His phone was plugged in on the side table in the room. He grabbed it quietly, and moved Karen’s arm off of his stomach, moving toward the bathroom.  He slipped the door shut, turned on the light and locked it. 

He wondered if she’d respond, he’d just showed her how to even look at her text messages a few months prior. Despite his sincere doubt to get a response at 1:00am, he typed anyway. 

I doubt you’re going to even see this, but are you awake? 

You’ve got no faith in my abilities, these cost me ten cents each. You better be dying ;) 

LOL not dying, just…thinking  

There was a break for a few moments and he caught himself holding his breath, he let out a sigh when he got a message back. 

you’re going to be great tomorrow. Don’t even sweat it, everyone loves you<I> 

His face turned up in a smile, he’d now taken a seat on the side of the large bathtub. 

I don’t know, I did kick Wallace’s ass in b-ball in his own home a few weeks ago

;) I promise, you have nothing to worry about

He flipped the small silver Motorola razr shut, and rubbed his eyes with exhaustion. She always knew the right thing to say, when he’d asked Karen earlier how to calm his nerves, she told him he shouldn’t worry because she was going to get the position. Although he enjoyed the banter between them, sometimes he just needed her to be serious with him, if only for a moment. 

When he returned into the bedroom, Karen had turned on her side and was facing the window. He sighed with relief. She scared him. Karen was seven minutes. Karen was seven minutes of absolute panic that something awful was happening. She was seven minutes of feeling as though things would end terribly. She was seven minutes of being in rooms filled with sarcophagus’ with dimly lit lighting that cast shadows on the walls that scared him. Commitment is scary, right? He was supposed to feel this way, it was normal<I>. 

But then there was light. Or Pam, or both. There was the empty parking lot where he was ready to sweep her into his arms, carry her into his Saab and drive her to the nearest chapel and get married. Her smile was as strong as his fathers embrace. Her hair was warm and soft and reminded him of safety as he held his fathers hand for the rest of the day. She was the breeze flipping through his shaggy hair as he ate an ice cream in the park that afternoon. She was the nap on the train ride home, calm, quiet, snug and tucked in, holding him ever so close to her. 

He looked to the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was blinking 3:04 at him. He blinked his eyes trying to remember the last couple of hours but his feet were weary in need of rest and still planted to the carpeted floor near the bed. He gave a glance at Karen, grabbed the pillow from his side of the bed, and curled onto the far too short couch in the room. In the morning, he’d tell her it was because he couldn’t get tired so he’d moved to the couch to watch television. Right now, he held his pillow close to his chest, turned into the couch itself, and felt it close around him, protecting him, until his eyelids couldn’t stay open any more. 

The phone lit up hours after he’d fallen asleep and he wouldn’t see it until much later, 

I wish you were here, I can’t sleep. There’s a documentary on tv about the Jurassic period. I thought of your trips to the museum. Sleep tight