Chapter Six

He's gone.

Gone.

Gone.

Too late Pam. He's…gone.

She's been sitting at her desk for hours, trying to pretend everything's fine as her world falls apart around her.

Jim. Is. Gone.

"Dunder-Mifflin - This is Pam." She says, over and over, her voice more lifeless than usual.

Seriously, if you left here, I would blow my brains out.

She puts down the phone and looks around her desk, trying to find something - anything to distract her. Because she's pretty sure that if she had the means blowing her brains out would be a definite option.

Memories of him are everywhere she realizes all of the sudden.

Hey. Looking for something to distract you? Here's something to distract you. Maybe you should plan your wedding Pam. Your wedding, remember?

The phone rings again and this time she's relieved to hear a familiar voice on the other end.

"Mom." She says softly, biting back a sob.

"I know. I'm sorry. No. Not now. I can't…" She protests, her voice a mere whisper.

"Worse. No. Yes. It doesn't matter anymore. It's too late. I don't know…" She sniffles as she twists the phone cord in her fingers.

Her eyes fall on a post-it note she'd forgotten was there. And her mind goes back. Two years ago…

"Good morning." He says softly as he leans across the desk.

"Hey." She smiles up at him.

"Hey - um…did you happen to notice today's date?" He asks with a grin.

"Shut up." She rolls her eyes. He was so lame.

He regards the paper bag in his hand. "Oh. Hold on. Is it your birthday or something?"

"Shut up." She narrows her gaze at him, blushing a bit.

He gives her an adoring look as he places the bag in front of her. "Happy Birthday, Beesly."

"Thank you." She says, suddenly giddy with anticipation. Jim always bought the best gifts.

He stands and watches her as she slowly opens the bag.

"Jim." She sighs as she pulls out a bag of French Onion Sun Chips and a Cadbury bar. It was dark chocolate, her favorite. Roy always bought her Hershey's but Pam always thought that Cadbury tasted better. It was near blasphemy for someone who grew up in the State of Pennsylvania but she didn't care.

Roy also always bought her milk chocolate instead, she thought with a sigh.

She looks in the bag again and finds something else. A can of Coke with a post-it note attached. She smiles as she reads the message:

Good for one (and only one) - Get Out of Jinx Free

"Jim." She raises her eyes to his and laughs out loud.

"There's one more thing." He says, hoping that his voice isn't shaking.

She peers in the bag and her mouth hangs open. She reaches in and pulls out a box of pastels.

"Jim." She says softly as she turns them over in her hands. "You shouldn't have."

"The - um - woman at the - um - art supply store - she said they're pretty good." He says as he averts his eyes from hers.

"They're very good." She says as she stares at him in awe. And more than that - very expensive.

"Happy Birthday." He says again as he pushes back and makes his way over to his desk.

"Jim. Really. Thank you." She whispers as he walks away.

"You're welcome." He grins as he sits back down.

She's snapped back to the present by the sound of her mother's voice. "It's really bad… Mom. I just…I'll call you later. I promise." She says as she rubs at her eyes with her sleeve as she hangs up the phone. She puts the phone on voicemail and as calmly as she can manage, makes her way out the door.

She'd been in the office without him. She suffered as he sat in the back of the office for a full day when Michael commandeered his desk. She'd suffered through his silence for a full day when he couldn't speak.

But this was worse. This was awful. This was…real.

I can't choose. It's too hard. She thinks desperately as she makes her way to the roof. She's known Roy for ten years. She's known Jim for four. She knows everything about Roy, good, bad and ugly. She has seen sides of Jim she doesn't quite like but for the most part he just makes her happy.

Be happy, Pam. Please?

He makes her happy.

Then why is she crying?

How could things change so quickly? She couldn't believe it. Just two days ago they were laughing and joking around and now it's suddenly I'm in love withyou and Choose me.

As she stands on the roof, overlooking the parking lot she can't help but notice his car isn't there.

She hugs her arms around herself and finally just gives in, letting the tears fall.

It should be easy. The answers should be easy. But they…weren't. Not at all. Even with that one thought manages to break through.

You have choices Pam. You still have choices.

xoxoxoxoxo

The Stamford Branch will be happy to have you.

Enjoy your vacation, rest up for the big move.

I think you've made the right choice Jim.

He tosses his keys on the table in the hallway, dumping his bag and his jacket next to it as he eases his shoes off. He rolls his neck to get out the kinks of having been driving so long.

Why doesn't it feel right then?

Moving to the kitchen, he grabs a beer and then moves into the living room. He turns on the TV and then quickly turns it off. He sighs as he looks around, his eyes falling on the box he'd taken from the office last night.

Don't do it, Jim. Don't go there.

Ignoring the voice in his head he leans over and lifts the lid. As he does his mind goes back…One year ago...

"Jellybeans?" He asks his eyebrows raised.

"Oh." She looks at the dish as if it's just appeared on her desk. "Yeah." She says nonchalantly.

"Gourmet jellybeans no less." He remarks as he digs in, looking for the best flavors.

"I'm quite the connoisseur." She says with a grin.

"I see that." Jim chuckles.

"Happy Birthday." She whispers as she hands him a perfectly wrapped package shaped like a thin square.

"Thank you." He says, smiling widely.

"You're welcome." She says, nearly bouncing in her seat, trying to hide her nerves. She can't wait for his reaction.

He opens the package carefully and he's awed at what he finds.

It's a picture, with an unfinished edge as if it's been torn from a sketchbook. He looks as if he's about to run his fingers over it and she stops him by placing her hand over his.

"You can't touch it - it'll smudge." She warns him. "The pastels…"

"Right." He says quickly. He's suddenly completely pre-occupied by the feel of her hand over his.

"I used the ones you gave me..." She starts to explain as she moves away.

"I see that." He grins at her.

"Do you like it?"

Do I like it? He thinks to himself. It's quite possibly the best thing he'd ever seen. It was a perfect representation of a scene he'd described to her once, him and his dad at the ballgame when he was about six. You couldn't make out the faces of the man and boy in the drawing, but it was exactly as he remembered it.

"I love it." He answered so honestly it made her blush. He turned his gaze to her as he whispered. " Pam. You are really wasting some incredible talent hanging out here with me."

"Someone's got to do it." She says with a roll of her eyes, beyond thrilled that she'd made him so happy.

"You are so talented, Pam. Really." He says again as he looks into her eyes, briefly, before focusing back to the picture.

"Thank you." She whispers, suddenly embarassed.

"No. Thank you. It's great. Best. Present. Ever." He says for emphasis.

"You're welcome." She replies, blushing a color near to fuchsia.

As he makes his way back to his desk,holding the drawing carefully by the corners, he knows for a fact that he'll treasure her gift forever.

He turns his attention back to his beer and drinks deeply. How could things change so quickly? He couldn't believe it. Just two days ago they were laughing and joking around and now it's suddenly I'm in love with you and Choose me.

But he'd envisioned a whole different scenario. One that for sure didn't have him on the other side of the globe three weeks from now. He also never imaged that when he came back it would be to live in Connecticut.

He'd been in the office without her. He suffered as he sat in the back of the office for a full day when Michael commandeered his desk. He'd suffered through being silent for a full day when she'd jinxed him so couldn't speak.

But this was worse. This was awful. This was…real.

It should be easy. The answers should be easy. But they…weren't. Not at all. Even with that one thought manages to break through.

"You can tell me Jim. You can tell me anything."

Apparently not, Pam. He thinks desperately as he stares at the picture lying on his coffee table. Apparently not.