It isn't until she's watched him leave, the door closing behind him with a finality that breaks her, that she finally cries. Sinking into his desk chair, she wilts like a flower that has endured too much rain. The sadness is seeping out of her, pooling in the corners of her eyes like dew as she not only mourns the loss of him, but is also finally aware of the pain she's caused him.

She has to tell him how sorry she is, that she's made a mistake. She needs for him to not be out of her life forever.

----

With dirty feet, sore from running five blocks barefoot and free of her restricting high heels, she's arrived at his door. Her face is sticky with dried tears, her throat sore from the effort of trying to hold back fresh ones.

Inhaling a shuddering breath, she takes strength from the cool Spring air, and knocks on his door; the echo resounding over the sounds of her labored breathing. Rocking back and forth on her heels, she stares at the top of the doorjamb, waiting. She counts the moments by the beating of her heart in her ears until she sees the crack of the door widen, letting out a warm shaft of light into the dark that encompasses her. She lowers her face toward him and takes in his image. He's taken off his sweater, and the top few buttons of his white shirt are undone. His hair is a mess, and she thinks she sees evidence of dried tears on his cheeks. She hadn't been prepared for the sight of him, and immediately, she feels her face crumple. A quaking hand rises to cover her mouth as she helplessly sobs, laid bare before him.

She feels his fingertips tentatively come to rest at her elbow before slowly walking to her upper arm. He implores her to tell him what's wrong. Asks if Roy had done something to her- if she is hurt. Her tears quicken at his completely selfless concern for her, and she lets him guide her inside to the warmth of his apartment. The scent of him engulfs her like a comforting blanket.

With his hand still encircling her upper arm, she absently lets her fingers go slack and drops her shoes on the floor next to the door as it closes.

"I can't-" she manages between hiccups, and Jim instantly tenses. She takes a deep breath. "I mean, I can't go back to Roy."

He nods, looks off in the distance, obviously not sure of what she's really saying. Perhaps afraid to hope. She watches his Adam's Apple bob up and down as he swallows.

"Jim--" she begins, but tears begin to run afresh down her face. And when he steps forward to wipe them away, she wraps her arms around herself, needing the strength to just go on and say it, to not let herself fall prey to her emotions. Because though she knows he's hurting and would rather be alone right now, she also knows he wouldn't be able to turn her away. Knows he'd hold her until she was all cried out.

"I lied to you before," she begins, looking into his eyes. "I lied because I was afraid, and I didn't--." She shakes her head slightly. "So I lied"

"About what?" he whispers, head titling to the side, thumb sliding over the skin of her upper arm where his hand still rests.

 "I can, Jim. I can, and I want to."

He nods once, his jaw working, eyes staring. Time seems to slow to a crawl and then he gathers her to him and buries his nose in her hair before pulling away slightly, gently tilting her chin upwards. He places his lips on her neck, over her pulse point, and softly presses them there for the longest time. She begins to melt in his arms, feels the fear leaving her along with her inhibitions, as if it's all being absorbed through his lips. 

She brings her hands up to tangle in his hair when she feels his tongue sweep over the sensitive skin of her neck, and she exhales a confession of love, tightens her fists in his hair, and hears him make a desperate sound in the back of his throat.

And then his lips are on hers, warm and soft, and it's everything it was earlier, but more. And she's falling, falling, but she's not scared this time, because now she can see that she's falling into him- that he'll break her fall, and everything will be okay.

After a few too-short moments, she feels him reluctantly pull away and rest his forehead against hers. She can hear his shaky breaths mingling with her own; can feel his thumbs caressing her waist. And when he speaks, his mouth is still so close that his lips nudge against hers a little, sending tingles down her spine.

"Is this really happening?" he asks, his voice intimate and soft.

She nods, her forehead brushing against his, and then whispers, "Love you."

"Love you, too," he says, huskily. Pam's eyes fill again as she brushes a hand across his cheek.