It had gone on for three more nights - round and round they went, she questioning him with narrowed eyes; he offering uncomfortable, seemingly evasive answers. Even when it was happening she knew it was wrong - didn't recognize herself in the woman who pushed him so relentlessly, clinging even though she knew that to do so only drove the wedge between them that much deeper.

On the fifth night, he'd dropped a bombshell on her.

"Do we have to go over this again?" He asked, running a hand wearily over his eyes, his hair tousled, face darkened with stubble.

"Jim, I'm sorry to keep pushing you; it's just that I -- " She shook her head, biting her lip before forcing herself to admit it, knowing she'd probably come off sounding like a paranoid teenager: "I just can't shake the feeling that there's more to this, like there's something I'm missing, or something...I don't know - something you haven't told me."

He lowered his head and groaned quietly, prompting her to add, "I know - listen, it's...it's stupid, and I know that. Just - okay, you told her you had feelings for her, and she turned you down, told you you had misinterpreted her."

"Yes."

"And she walked away then."

"Yes." Just as she was starting to feel relieved, his eyes flicked away from her guiltily, straying to the carpet.

Her stomach sank a little, her voice small: "So that was it...? You didn't talk after that?"

When he didn't answer right away, the panic began to creep in again, slow and nauseating. "Jim...?"

He shook his head slowly, taking in a deep breath before he said, "Karen, seriously..."

"What else happened?" Her voice was a little harder now as she realized that he'd been lying to her - lying by omission, but lying nonetheless. Prince's "The Beautiful Ones" softly permeated the silence between them, suiting her mood all too well.

"I really don't think this is accomplishing anything." He looked her in the eye, but only for a second. "Seriously - it's all...the past, history, not an issue anymore."

"Then why can't you answer my question?"

He didn't reply right away, then: "Because you're not going to like the answer."

"Jim - "

"Fine." He shrugged in frustration, those eyes steadfastly avoiding hers. "I went back into the office, and she was there."

He stopped abruptly, his jaw tensing.

"And...?" There was actually a tremor in her hands now as she tried to steel herself for whatever it was he'd say. Maybe he'd told her again? Begged her to give him a chance?

"I kissed her."

His words prompted an immediate ache in her throat that crept up and stung her eyes, her head beginning to throb a little.

She knew the answer even before he said it. "She kissed me back."

"Oh my god."

"No - it wasn't - she said no anyway, okay? Nothing else happened."

Now she couldn't look him in the eye, and she could feel his gaze on her face, knew he wanted her to look at him. When she didn't, he took a step toward her, putting a gentle hand on her face, tilting her chin so that she had to face him. "It didn't go further than that; I left a few minutes later."

"Did she say anything to you before she left?" It was humiliating to stand there asking him these questions, yet she just couldn't not.

"She...she said something about us being drunk."

Karen held her breath, barely daring to hope. "Were you?"

He lowered his head again, looking away for a second before meeting her eyes again. "No."

"So how did you leave it?"

"I walked away." His voice was a little gruff.

She stared at him for a long time, the tears hovering heavily on her lashes, blurring the image of him. She desperately didn't want to cry; what she really wanted right now was to be alone, to have some time to process what he'd told her...to just think.

When a tear rolled down her cheek anyway, his eyes closed for a second, then he said quietly, "This is why I didn't want to do this - get into it all. So you know about it now - it doesn't change anything; there's nothing going on with me and Pam."

Again she felt herself slipping, sliding back into it - warmth, headiness...an ache. "So it was just a kiss...?"

"Just a kiss."

"....Okay."

---------------

Questioning Pam the next day only intensified her suspicions that there had to be more to that night than either of them was admitting - and Pam's evasive, fumbling answers did nothing to ease her worries. If anything, she walked out of the kitchen almost certain that Pam had feelings for him.

But it just didn't make sense to her. Why would Pam have turned him down if she felt the same way? Even if she'd changed her mind, why wouldn't she have spoken up and told Jim so? And why would she have intervened on Karen's behalf when Jim was being such a spazz about her moving a few blocks away?

No matter what either of them said, on an almost guttural level, she knew she was right to worry.

Yet she felt helpless, because whenever she considered the possibility of losing him, her throat seemed to close up. So she shoved the doubts further down, ignoring the nagging instinct that warned she'd regret this.

It worked for a while - quite a while, in fact.

And then they'd had a birthday party for Meredith, one that all the warehouse guys attended. She noticed - not for the first time - the way one of the guys from the warehouse, Roy, spent most of his time hovering near Pam, cracking jokes at her in an attempt to make her laugh; offering shy, awkward smiles in the pauses of the conversation.

When Pam walked away to get a glass of punch, Karen watched him as his eyes followed her; something about the desperation in his expression really struck her for some reason -- maybe because she could relate to it.

She'd been standing with Kelly, chatting casually; Jim was off in a corner talking to Oscar and Kevin. Without thinking, she murmured absently, "That Roy guy looks like he's really got it bad for Pam; I wonder if she knows...?"

Kelly snorted, then drew back, retorting incredulously, "Well...yeah; they were engaged for forever, and he's been trying to win her back ever since she broke it off."

Karen froze, feeling almost dizzy as the pieces suddenly slid sharply into focus; now she knew.

Now it all made sense.

"When was that?" Her voice was hoarse, but she had to ask - had to confirm her suspicions.

"Oh...not that long ago. Let's see..." Kelly's eyebrows knit as she thought back. "It was a few weeks after Jim transferred - when did he start at Stamford, do you remember? I know it was some time in the summer, but...."

Worse yet was the realization - the knowledge - that Jim wanted her, too.

Still.

---------------

She left the party early, slipping out the door furtively without saying anything to Jim - or anyone else for that matter. Once she got back to her apartment, she sank down onto her couch, assailed by a series of images, incomplete, one after the other.

He wasn't hers - never had been and apparently never would be. She'd always - always - been aware of the reticence there, but it hadn't jelled with the rest of him (so open and affable, a lovely tinge of vulnerability hovering beneath the surface). So she'd let it go, blaming it on paranoia or self-doubt, sometimes just sheer petulance.

But now she knew: It wasn't paranoia or petulance; it was her gut instinct, right as always.

She let the words reverberate in her mind over and over, a mantra of sorts that she hoped would lend her the strength to do what she had to do: