Staring right back in the face
A memory can't be erased
I know, because I tried
Start to feel the emptiness
And everything I'm gonna miss
I know, that I can't hide

All this time is passing by
I think it's time to just move on

When you come back down
If you land on your feet
I hope you find a way to make it back to me
When you come around
I'll be there for you
Don't have to be alone with what you're going through

            Roy's eyes blaze with rage; the alcohol he's quite obviously consumed enhances the wild animal quality that had already been present yesterday in the office.

            Pam stands for a second, listening to Roy slur at her. "Ya know they fired me?"

            "Shocking."  She murmurs, her voice dripping with weariness.  Roy shoves past her into the apartment.  Pam tries to recapture the forceful and commanding tone she'd used on him in the office yesterday, but the day's events have left her emotionally drained.  She can barely summon even mild irritation as she asks, "What do you want?"

            Roy, with a tiring predictability,  ignores the question and continues his rant.  "Fired me!  Fired me, Pam!  And all I got was one lousy punch!  Sooooo I figure.. if I gotta lose my job, better make it worth it."

            Though this statement should probably set off some sort of alarm, Pam simply sighs, standing pointedly by the open door, and says, "That still doesn't explain why you're here."  She is in no condition to deal with Roy's train wreck...she's got her own.  With Jim's words still echoing painfully in her mind, all she wants is to get Roy out of here, go to sleep and, hopefully, dream of nothing. 

            "I was on my way to Halperts.  I passed your place.  I figured there'd be just as good of a chance of finding him here..."

            The revelation of Roy's initial destination, coupled with the dawning realization of his purpose, has finally stirred some fear.  She closes the door.  "Jim isn't here."  She's surprised at just how much it hurts to simply say his name.

            "Then I guess I'll go!"  Roy turns on his heel and heads back for the doorway, stumbling slightly in his hurry; the momentary lapse gives Pam time to put her back against the door.

            "You aren't going anywhere like that."  Her voice is flat.  "Go to the kitchen, and I'll give you some coffee.  Just for a few minutes." 

            "No!"

            Her tone firm, she responds, "Yes.  Otherwise I'll call the cops."

            Roy's eyes slide over her face, his gaze strangely unfocused.  Finally he says, "Okay.  But just...minutes.  Then I'm goin'."

            "Fine."  Pam nods, then takes Roy's arm and steers him in the direction of her kitchen.  Watching him walk awkwardly through the living room, Pam lingers in the hallway, uncertain of what to do.

            She almost calls the cops.  But the thing is, Pam's had more experience than she cares to remember with a drunk and angry Roy.  And in the past, he was all talk.  She didn't really want to get him arrested for what most likely were empty threats. 

            Still, she gets out her cell phone and dials Jim, not thrilled about having to talk to him so soon after the fight. 

            After four rings, his voice mail comes on.  After a moment's hesitation, she leaves a message, "Jim, it's me.  Roy's over here, drunk and pissed.  He's talking about coming over to your place to finish what he started or something.  He's probably just talking out of his ass, but...if I were you, I'd take Karen and go somewhere else."  She can't conceal the bitterness in her tone or stop the nauseous feeling that overtakes her when she imagines him and Karen together.  "Anyway, just thought I'd warn you."  She withdraws the phone from her ear, poised to push the End button, but then adds, "If you could just...text me or something to let me know you get this...well, bye."  She hangs up.

            As Pam moves to follow Roy into the kitchen, she can't shake a feeling of uneasiness.  In her experience, Jim almost always has his cell phone close by, and usually checks it habitually every few minutes, even if it's not with him or if it's on silent.  So there shouldn't be a problem. 

            But...

            What if he doesn't listen?  What if he didn't answer because of the fight, and what if he doesn't bother listening to the message?

            Pam shivers involuntarily, and then forces herself to shake the thoughts off.  She remembers Jim's expression of guilt when she'd lost it, after the Karen comments.  He hadn't been angry.  And besides, he'll see that if she's calling him after such a blow out, it must be important. 

            Right?

            Right.

*  *  *   *  *

            Jim's still lying awake, Karen's even breathing next to him becoming more and more unbearable, when his cell phone rings.

            One hand fumbles for the bedside table and closes over his phone.  Holding it in front of his face, he sees "Pam Calling" flash across the screen.

            Several thoughts and emotions run through in mind in the next two seconds, from curiosity (As pissed off as she was, why would she call?) to anger (After that fight she wants to wait a few hours before calling?). 

            He's stuck on the curiosity momentarily.  Pam was much angrier at him, after that last comment about Karen, then he'd been at her.  So why would she break the silence?

            Then the anger resurfaces to answer the question.  She knows I'm probably with Karen now.  She just wants to cause problems.  Why else would she call me?

            Ignoring the uncertainty screaming from some dark corner of his mind, Jim ignores the phone.  Moments later, the words "One New Voicemail" come onto the screen.

            Nice try. His fingers moving clumsily, he deletes the voicemail without listening to it.

            I can be angry, too.

*  *  *  *  *

She steps into the kitchen and lets out a strangled yell of protest.  Roy's removed the three beers she'd had in the fridge since forever, and it's clear from the massive pile of broken glass that he's gone quickly through the first two.  The third bottle is tipped backwards, halfway empty, the remaining liquid being poured quickly into his mouth.

            Pam steps forward and seizes his right arm with both hands.  "You...don't....need....anymore."  She's panting with effort but finally jerks it from his clumsy grasp.  "Now sit down and I'll give you some coffee."   She hates Roy right now, for choosing tonight of all times to do this...

            "NO!  Screw coffee..."  He shoves one of the kitchen chairs out of his way and stalks out of the kitchen.  Pam quickly follows him, pulse racing, and is just able to squeeze between him and the door.

            "Roy, Roy, no...I swear I will call the cops..."  Pam can feel the weight of her cell phone in her jacket pocket, and silently wills it to buzz to alert a text or call from Jim. 

            "So what?  Call the goddamn cops!  Call the whole National Fucking Guard, I don't give a shit!  So move over."

            She keeps shaking her head, and finally Roy seizes her by the arm, his fingers closing easily around her skin and gripping hard. 

            Pam tenses instantly.  After a moment of silence, she spats angrily, "When the hell are you going to stop this shit, Roy, because it's getting really fucking old."

            "What're ya talking about?"

            "You never deal with anything!  You get drunk, and you either go crazy or you ignore it!  You can't even deal with your own problems like an adult.  When are you going to grow the hell up and be-"

            "What?"  Roy's face twists, and it's the angriest his eyes have looked all night.  "Be like Halpert?"  He spits Jim's last name out with disgust and bitterness, and Pam's suddenly frozen, the look in his eyes scaring her.  "Is that what you want, Pammy?  For me to be like your precious, precious Halpert?"  He grabs her other arm as well and puts his face inches from hers, roaring, "TOO BAD FOR YOU CUZ IT AIN'T HAPPENING!!!" 

            Then she's on the floor.

*  *  *  *  *

            Jim barely says two words to Karen from the time they wake up to the moment they enter the office.  She shoots him sideways glances, and often has a look like she's about to speak, but she never does.

            He doesn't care.  It's as if his words last night to Pam, all of them, had left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he's unable to stop the grimace that accompanies it.

            Pam isn't there when they walk in, even though they arrive later than she usually does, a fact that makes the painful knot in Jim's stomach tighten.  He'd thought it would be horrible facing her this morning, but her absence hits him as hard as he imagined her presence would have; the fact that she may not have come, and what that meant...

            He must have hurt her more than he'd thought.  No, Jim.  Gritting his teeth, Jim wills himself, once again, to forget the guilt. 

            Michael comes walking out of his office with a solemn look on his face.  Fear seizes Jim unexpectedly; she'd yelled at him for running, said she didn't have an "escape plan" but what if she had?  What if she'd quit, transferred, something?

            He pushes the thought from his mind.  There's no way, not after all the crap she'd given him about the escape plan...

            He attempts to side step Michael and follow Karen to their desks, but Michael puts out a hand to stop him.  "Hold on a sec, Jim."  He raises his voice.  "I have an announcement.  Pam's going to be out for the rest of the week, at least."  In his immense relief, Jim is able to return to his guiltless state.  She calls me a coward for running out yesterday?! 

Then Michael continues with, "She's in the hospital", and suddenly everything's changed.

Michael's voice is dramatic.  "Roy was arrested last night.  He got drunk, showed up at her apartment and apparently beat her up pretty bad, in the middle of the night."  There are gasps.

            Jim's heart drops to his stomach, and the room is suddenly dissolving into blackness, Michael's voice echoing from somewhere above him.  His hands reach forward out of instinct and grip the nearest desk.

            The phone call...somewhere in the dimness of his mind, the memory of the missed phone call and the deleted voice come screaming back to him, and all of sudden he's shoving Michael out of his way in order to stumble into the break room and vomit.

Jim crouches on the floor, sweat dripping from his face, his entire body trembling violently.  He's barely aware that the trash can is right next to the door, which is still propped open, and the entire office has gone silent.

            He'd ignored that phone call.

            Cradling his head in his arms, Jim lets the tears he hadn't realized were gathered in his eyes fall, mingling with the cool sweat.  He beings to hear some sort of half-gasp, half-sob, and it takes a few times before he realizes it's coming from him.

            He doesn't know how long he stays there, but it can't be long; Karen's hand touches his back but instantly withdraws.  "Jim?"

            It's enough to make him stand up.  However, he rebuffs her attempts at questioning to march out into the office, ignoring the fact that his face is now tear-streaked and that, when he approaches Michael, his voice won't stay steady.  "What hospital?"  It's not a request, but a demand. 

            Michael looks a little afraid.  He mumbles the name of the hospital, and then hastens to add,  "Jim, man, they said she's going to be fine, just needs some rest and-"

            But Jim's already on his way to the door.  Karen hesitates for only a minute before following him. 

            He's waiting on the elevator when she catches up.  "Jim, what-"

            "I'm going to see her."  He answers her unfinished question defiantly.

            "Okay..."  Karen pauses.  "Okay, I'll come with you."

            "No."  The word's out too quickly, and a combination of hurt and anger flashes on Karen's face.  "That's not necessary."  He doesn't care that he's being blunt; all he cares about is getting to Pam.

            He steps into the elevator without another word, and watches her disappear as the doors close.

*  *  *  *  *

            He's directed to her room number at the hospital, and when he gets outside of it, Pam's mother is there, hanging up a cell phone, leaning against a wall just outside the closed door.  Her eyes are tired and sad, her face carrying the obviously difficult weight of the night.

            She looks up, takes one look at the terrified expression on Jim's face, and says simply.  "You're Jim." 

            It's not a question, but he nods anyway.  He's never been formally introduced to the woman standing in front of him, but it's not necessary, somehow. 

            "Is she...how...um..."  His words seem to stumble out of his mouth, coherency apparently lost.

            Mrs. Beesly puts a hand on his arm.  "She'll be fine."  She informs him gently.  "The worst of it's some broken ribs and a mild concussion."  Unimaginable rage chokes Jim suddenly, imagining Roy doing this to her.  Then he remembers the phone call and turns his rage on himself.  "But she's doing fine."

            "They...Michael just told us at, at work.  I needed to see her..."  His voice trails off uncertainly; he doesn't even know why he feels the need to explain.

            Pam's mother smiles warmly at him.  "I'm glad you came.  She'll want to see her best friend."

            The last two words hit him with full force; the lump in his throat breaks quickly and, to his intense embarrassment, he gasps quietly, tears stinging his eyes, maybe falling, Jim's not sure.

            He looks away instantly, blinking rapidly.  He mumbles something about being sorry.

            Her hand still on his arm, Mrs. Beesly gives it a quick, reassuring squeeze.  "She's awake, you should go see her."

            Words echo in his mind, words he'd said to her and words she'd said to him.  He wants to see her.  He isn't sure she wants to see him.

            But he nods emphatically, trying to control his raw, uneven gasps for breath.  Pam's mom nods once at the doorway, and Jim walks shakily toward it, grasps the handle and enters.

            Pam's sitting in the bed, the covers unmade but thrown off her; her knees are drawn up, not quite against her chest but close.  The television mounted on the wall is turned on, the chattering of voice low.  She's not looking at it, however; she doesn't seem to be looking at anything.

            Jim feels an instant relief, because her face doesn't look bad.  He knows it doesn't matter, not really, but he had been worried she'd look horribly beaten.  The only indication, really, is the brace on her right hand, and one bruise on her right cheek, in the same place the one she'd gotten defending him two days ago had been.

            As Jim takes a few steps closer, though, there's more that betrays the trauma.  The expression on her face is heartbreakingly lost and fragile; her position in the bed further adds to the child like quality. 

            "Pam..."  He breathes in a voice that doesn't sound like himself.  It's a thanks, a plead, a confession...thousands of interpretations of the way he says her name.

            She glances at him as though she's just realized his entrance.  "Oh." 

            Jim blinks uncertainly.  That's all?  Just ‘oh'?  The dead tone of her voice is somehow worse than if she'd yelled at him.  She has to be thinking about the phone call.

            "Pam..."  This time, his voice is just uncertain.  "Pam, I'm so...God, you have no idea..."

            "It's fine."  Her voice is still flat.

            He can't help it; Jim goes closer to the bed and, because there's no chair close by, kneels next to it, staring at her, desperately trying to convey how horrible he feels.  Something like  flashes briefly in her eyes, but just as quickly as it came, the look is gone...before he could even understand what it meant.

            "Hey..."  Jim reaches out and gently tips her face around to look at him, and she tenses instantly.  Open up to me, Pam.  "How are you."

            Pam's mouth twists a little, but her voice is steady.  "Fine."

            Jim nearly groans in frustration.  "Pam about the phone call...God, if I'd known-"

            "You couldn't have."

            "But...look I feel so-"

            "Well, don't."  Her voice continues to be devoid of all emotion, but her eyes are suddenly fierce.  "I wasn't even calling for help, if that's what you thought.  Roy was planning on going to find you.  I was just going to tell you to go somewhere."  Responding to the stricken, shocked look on Jim's face, she just said.  "It's all in the voicemail."

            "Yeah, I..."  He pauses.  "I kind of deleted that."

            Pam grimaces a little, but then glances at him blankly (for most the conversation, she's stared at the wall beyond Jim).  "Well, it doesn't matter.  You didn't know."

            Continuing babbling, he said, "It's just that after our fight I didn't think...I don't know, I guess I was pissed."  Pam's face changes again, briefly. 

            "It doesn't matter.  You couldn't have done anything...I was just calling to tell you to move somewhere for awhile."

            As if he doesn't feel guilty enough.  Even though she's the one who'd pissed at him last night, she'd tried to call and warn him. 

            "Yeah..."  he said in a quiet voice.  "But if I'd known he was there and drunk I wouldn't..."  He pauses; is there even any point in saying it?  "I wouldn't have let you stay there... I would've done something."

            Pam looks down at the bed sheets, and when she looks up, the blank look is gone, only to be replaced by raw pain, and her eyes have filled with tears.  "Yeah, I know that."

            Jim's sure he hates himself; he hates himself for saying what he had last night, and he hates himself for assuming the worst from her.  He hates himself for letting this happen.

            He closes his eyes for a moment.  He can't see a way to fix this.

            When he opens his eyes, Pam's turned so her back is too him.  He tentatively places a hand on her shoulder, and she shakes him off; however, he has time to notice how violently she was shaking. 

            He wonders if she's crying.

            "Pam."

            "It's fine."  Her voice has gone back to that infuriatingly emotionless tone, although it's barely audible anymore.  He wishes she'd stop using that word.

            The silence is killing him, so he keeps talking, standing up at the same time, trying to explain.  "It's just that I knew how mad you were.  And you should have been, Pam, I never meant...I didn't mean it.  Anyway, I knew how mad you were at me, and I figured if you were calling so soon after that, it was probably just so Karen would see and-"

            "What?"  She whirls to look at him, then winces; the sudden movement was obviously painful.  There are tears on her cheeks, confirming Jim's suspicion that she'd turned because she was crying; but, now, her eyes are devoid of anything except for fury.

            Jim instantly realizes his mistake.  "What I meant-"

            "You didn't answer the phone because you assumed I was calling you out of spite, to get you in trouble with your girlfriend?!  Since when am I that person?  Do you even...my God, Jim!"

            Hearing her say it makes him realize how right she is.  He answers in a choked voice, "Pam, believe me, if I could change it-"

            "What if...what if he'd actually done something to you Jim?"

            "I wish he had!"  He furiously blinks back tears, knowing she can tell and not really caring.  "I wish he had, as long as he hadn't touched you."

            "If he had, I would have had to carry that guilt, that it was because of me.  When really it was because you thought I was just being petty?!"  The volume of her voice increases the more she speaks.  "You mean none of this had to happen at all?!"

            "Pam..."  His voice trembles, and he crouches down again, reaching for her uninjured hand.  "Pam, please...you know I'd never..."

            She jerks her hand back, and for a moment they look at each other, each through a window of tears.  "Except you did."  A tear slips from his eye at her whispered remark. 

She continues, "Jim, last night you were so mad at me you said...you said things you knew would hurt me, for the specific purpose of hurting me, and I've never done anything to hurt you on purpose."  She pauses, as though expecting him to deny either of the statements, but he doesn't.  "And all I did to make you that mad was tell you that I love you.  And if you were that mad, it shouldn't change because I got hurt.  So I don't want you guilt or your pity I just...I just want you to leave."  He doesn't move.  "I mean it, get out.  Go back to Karen.  Yesterday you were hell bent on avoiding me, so I'm going to help you out."

Jim shakily gets to his feet, turns and walks stiffly to the door.  He turns before exiting and starts to say something, only to find his voice isn't working properly.

So he leaves.

He walks swiftly through the waiting room, fully aware his face is wet with tears, barely mumbling a goodbye to Pam's mother.

Bewildered, Mrs. Beesly watches Jim go, and then quickly enters her daughter's room.  Pam's hands are covering her face, and her shoulders are shaking with sobs.  Even in her concern for her daughter, it strikes Mrs. Beesly that this is the most emotion Pam's shown since they'd gotten to the hospital.  "Baby, what happened..."

Pam just shakes her head; her mother closes the door to the hospital room and moves next to her daughter on the bed, wrapping her arms around Pam, who cries into her shoulder like she was four years old again.

After about five minutes of this, Pam's calmed down enough for her mother to gently ask, "Pam?  What happened?"

Struggling to breathe, Pam draws back slightly to look at her mother.  "Mom, how come every thing he says hurts so much worse than anything Roy did to me last night?"

Her heart breaking for her daughter, Mrs. Bessly simply strokes Pam's hair and says, "Oh, sweetie..."  She doesn't tell her the answer, although she knows it.

Because you love him. And sometimes that hurts more than anything in the world.

*  *  *  *  *  *

For the next week, Jim moves on autopilot.  Karen wants to have another "talk" with him in response to his reaction to Michael's announcement, but luckily for Jim, the talk barely gets started...apparently, even Karen can't find a delicate way to accuse him of "caring too much" that Pam was in the hospital.

So all week long, he's numb to every thing around him.  Instead, Jim's stuck in several moments: Pam's initial confession, the fight, the phone call he'd ignored, and finally, the hospital.  All of it plays repetitively in his mind.

Monday, Pam comes back to work.  Everyone in the office crowds around her with hugs and ‘welcome backs', though Jim lingers at his desk.  He can't help but notice that Karen stays back, too.

When the fuss around reception dies down, Jim stands uncertainly and walks over to her desk, pressing his palms down next to the jellybean container habitually, and tries to smile.  She stares through him.

"Hey, Pam."

"Hi."  Her voice is clipped, dismissive.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine."  Her fingers fly across the keyboard, her gaze now locked on the screen.  Never before has he seen her so engrossed in her work.

"Well..."  The heat is rising to his cheeks now and, unable to think of anything else to say, he steps back.  "Good."  He walks to his desk, noting that the rhythm of her typing breaks as soon as he's a few feet away.

Jim's irritatingly aware of her presence throughout the day, and he's not getting anything done.  Guilt is eating away his insides, and soon he'll properly drowning in self-loathing.

A few times, Pam glances at him, and almost every time, he's staring at her. At the end of the day, he can't take it anymore, and opens his e-mail account, selects New Message and selects Pam as the recipient.  He's typed two lines (Can we please talk after work sometime?  It's really important to me.  Jim) and is about to click send when he sees a new e-mail appear in his inbox from Pam.

Temporarily minimizing his unsent e-mail, he eagerly opens the new on.  It contains three words.

Roof after work.

It's not a question.  It's not friendly.  Yet it fills Jim with hope; maybe she won't hate him forever.  Maybe they can move past this.

He doesn't flinch later when he tells Karen he's going to stay a little late and then head home early.  He can see her suspicion, and she hangs around a little longer than necessary.  However, when Pam grabs her coat and leaves the office, Karen seems to relax; she leaves two minutes later.

Jim doesn't wait long after her departure before heading out himself, though instead of the parking lot, he goes for the roof.

Pam's there, standing on the far side of the roof, staring off into nothingness.  Jim half-smiles awkwardly; she doesn't return it.

He takes a few steps closer, looking around.  To fill the silence, he observes, "Guess they moved the lawn chairs."

Pam gives no indication of hearing him; she stares over the edge of the roof, out into the distance where they'd once watched Dwight and Kevin jump over pathetic little fireworks.    Jim shoves his hands in his pockets; she obviously didn't call him up here for light conversation.

Finally, Pam speaks, "I don't want you to feel guilty anymore.  About what happened."  Jim starts to speak, apologize again or explain how he didn't mean it, but something makes him wait.  "I know I made you feel even more guilty about it at the hospital last week, but...I don't blame you for that.  You had no way of knowing.  It's just that I was...I am mad about the stuff you said that night, and the way you'd been that day..."  She trails off, looking almost embarrassed.  "Anyway, what Roy did was all him.  Him and alcohol.  And I didn't take it seriously enough to call the police, so...it's not your fault."

"Yeah, but...Pam, you have no idea how many times this week I've wished I picked up the phone.  I would have done something, I would have-"

"It's not your job to save me."  She says softly.  "So you can't blame yourself.  You were being stupid, yes.  But it's not like it was on purpose."

A lump has formed in Jim's throat's that's making it difficult to talk.  "Thanks."

She nods a little, once again tearing her gaze from his. 

He hesitates, then says, "You...you're right to be mad, though.  About the other stuff."

"I know."  There's no trace of humor in her agreement; it's simply matter-of-fact.

"I guess...you were just being honest and I'd never...some of the stuff you said."  His cheeks redden, but he keeps going.  "I guess I never thought about it from your side.  Last summer and everything after...I'm sorry.  That I didn't think about you more than I did.  I was your best friend and...I owed you more than...than taking off without a word."

She nods, looking up at him, waiting, sensing he has more to say.

"And...and when you told me..."  He pauses, swallowing hard and then starting over.  "Last week, I owed you more of an explanation than it's too late."

Pam's face falls.  She realizes for the first time that she'd expected him to take that back.  He'd said at the hospital that he'd said things he didn't mean.  She'd hoped the ‘it's too late' had been part of it.

Her eyes are instantly wet with tears; Pam's become an expert, recently, of keeping them back, so though they cling stubbornly onto her eyelashes, none fall.  She can't make herself look at him anymore, though, so she focuses on a point somewhere over her shoulder.

Jim's voice falters, but he keeps going.  "So...so here's the better explanation.  Pam, I've never...never felt about anyone the way I felt about you.  But...but when I left, I thought you were getting married.  I thought I had to get over you, so everything became about that."  She's staring at the ground now, and he can't see her face at all.  "Pam, I still love you.  But I'm not sure...I don't know if I'm still in love with you."

There's a moment of silence, and then Pam asks in a thick voice, "You don't know?"

"I honestly don't."

She nods for too long, trying discreetly to reach her hands up to wipe her eyes.

An ache fills Jim's chest.  He hates hurting her.  "And a lot of that's on me.  I know that...if I hadn't run away, maybe...things would have been different.  If I'd given you more than...more than a few minutes..."  He closes his eyes, sighing.

Pam suddenly feels as if she can't be here for another moment.  She mutters something inaudible about seeing him later, and she's heading toward the door of the roof when his voice stops her.

"Pam?"

She presses her lips together, wanting to break down and cry, beg him to give her another chance.  She swallows, and answers him without turning.  "What?"

He pauses.  "Could you look at me, please?"

She turns reluctantly and locks eyes with him; hers are desperate, pleading; he doesn't know if she's begging him to say he was lying or just begging him to let her go.  Her face is streaked with tears, her mascara smudged around broken eyes.

She looks beautiful.

Jim finds his voice has suddenly gone low and rough.  "Listen I do...I really do miss you.  We haven't been...us lately, and I was just hoping...maybe we could try to be friends again?"

She makes a sound like a half-laugh, half-sob, smiles sadly and says, her voice full of tears, "Come on...I don't want to do that.  I wanna be more than that."  Her voice breaks in the middle of her last sentence, and she presses one hand to her mouth, trying to choke back sobs.

Jim's heart breaks a little as she repeats his words from almost a year ago, and in that moment he might be in love with her.  The problem is, Jim doesn't trust himself or his feelings.  He just trusts the facts now; and the facts say that he's grown too much, come too far, to go right back to who he was.

"I guess I can't say I don't understand that."

Pam nods, and takes the last few steps to the door of the roof.  Just before leaving though, she makes herself look at him one more time.  "Jim?  Just so you know, I'm still going to be here.  For as long as...well, I'm going to be here."

She doesn't say anymore, but she doesn't need to.  Jim gets what she means: she won't be in another state, she won't be jumping into a rebound relationship anytime soon.

He gets it.

And as he watches her go, he doesn't know what to think about that.