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Author's Chapter Notes:

This was my very first fanfic ever.  I still haven't decided if this will be a oneshot or an ongoing story.

Special thanks to xoxoxo and Miss Clare for their awesome beta reading skills. They really helped me fine tune this story.

Forgot to say this originally, but all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Why does she even do this to herself? Curled into the corner of her oversized couch, Pam launches Google for the fifth time that night. She only needs to type J-I- before her AutoFill takes care of the rest.

Before clicking search, she wonders again what she hopes to accomplish. She made her choice. Now, ten years and two kids later, she shouldn’t be having doubts.

She loves her children with every fiber of her being. She keeps telling herself that THEY were worth it. No matter what, if she hadn’t made the choices she did, THEY wouldn’t be here, and she can’t imagine her life without them.

She loves her house. Sure, it doesn’t have a terrace, but it has her touches throughout, and she guesses that’s enough. She especially loves the rooms she painted for her kids. Princess-themed for Emily, her oldest, complete with fairies, crowns and magic toadstools, and a transportation theme for Jacob, her baby. Roy laughed at her when she drew the hot air balloons next to the airplanes, commenting that balloons and airplanes couldn’t possibly share the same airspace. But when Jake said “Boon!” for the first time, pointing at the bright red and blue balloon she painted above his crib, she knew she did the right thing.

She loves — OK, likes — her job. After the Scranton branch of Dunder-Mifflin was closed unceremoniously (once the documentary aired, Corporate needed to save face with several civil rights groups), she got a job with a small graphic arts firm. They saw she had talent, even without a degree. She started working there about seven years ago. She’s only working part-time now and knows she could have advanced further, if she had more support…Regardless, she enjoys the creative outlet and adult contact the job affords.

So why does she yearn to conduct that Google search again? Why can’t she shake the feelings of dissatisfaction and depression that have been plaguing her? What is wrong with her? She knows what the search results said five years ago, eighteen months ago, six months ago. One marriage and two birth announcements have burned a permanent scar in her memory.

She knows what the results said six weeks ago when she stumbled on the family website created to showcase his love. Any hope that she had harbored of a case of mistaken identity was destroyed with just one click. Without warning, she was face to face with the people behind those announcements, and with him. The last ten years had been kind to him. His hair was a little shorter, and his body a little fuller; both suited him nicely. For nearly an hour she pored over the site, torturing herself with “What if?” and “What could have been?” Chalking it up to PMS, she cried until Roy came home from his Wednesday night softball game. Today was Tuesday and bowling; he was out again, as he would be tomorrow and Friday nights.

Staring at the blinking cursor after his name, she rallies to check if any comments were left on the website she created last month, complete with smiling pictures of the kids, Roy and her – an electronic portrait of the perfect family. She wonders if he has ever searched for her on a lonely weeknight, but realizes wryly that even if he had, her site would be number 10,023 of the more than 12,000 Pam Anderson-related sites. “As long as he doesn’t think I’m the one with the fifth husband and the latest ‘accidentally released’ sex tape, it’s okay,” she reassures herself with a trace of a smile.

She attempts to distract herself with her pencil drawing of Jacob. She can only work on it when Roy is out of the house because he feels it is a waste of time and takes her away from the stuff she really needs to do. She tries to draw Jake’s lips, but they keep coming out wrong. And thinking about lips gets her thinking about her unfinished search.

“Stop it,” she commands herself. “This is pointless and counterproductive.” She starts to work on the ”stuff” she needs to get done before Roy gets home—cleaning the kitchen, ironing his UPS uniform for tomorrow and washing the baby’s bottles. Looking at the clock when she finishes, she knows she has at least another hour before Roy comes home, smelling of smoke, beer and chili dogs. Again, she faces her feelings of loneliness and borderline despair.

“How can I feel lonely,” she wonders for the millionth time as she checks on both children. “What is wrong with me? I have a solid husband who has good job and doesn’t cheat on me or abuse me, and I have two wonderful, beautiful, healthy kids. I even have Killer and Serafina to keep me company at night,” she thinks as she scoops up the cat from the foot of her daughter’s bed. “There’s plenty here to keep me occupied. People would kill to be in my position. What more can I want?” Unbidden, a voice comes to her — love, understanding, support, passion, a partner. Silently, the tears stream down her face as she makes her way back to the couch and clicks “Search.”


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