Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to these characters.

It wasn't that he didn't love her. He did. He really did. It just wasn't the "my world starts and ends with you" sort of overpowering love that less than one year ago had spun so terribly out of control, stripped his life bare, and sent him limping out of town into a cold, unwelcoming future. He was convinced that he could never love anyone that way again, even if he wanted to. His body simply could not sustain it. But he was trying. Good God he was trying.

Jim eased back into the canvas of his picnic chair and popped open a beer. It was a beautiful spring Sunday. He watched as Karen strolled easily over the grass down toward the pond not 30 feet away. Jim had tried to get her to wear a sundress but she had insisted on some loose soccer shorts and one of his comfortable T-shirts, and had grabbed his well-worn Phillies cap as well. From behind, she looked almost like a boy. Almost. The little wisps of brown hair sticking out sporadically from under her hat betrayed her, and those smooth, tan legs were just a little too nice to be male. Karen stopped a few feet from the water's edge, squatted down on the balls of her feet, and began breaking apart the bread she had been carrying. Jim smiled as the dozen or so ducks in the vicinity of his girlfriend descended noisily upon her.

Jim smiled because he was finally letting himself notice things about her... the little details that all fit together to form a complete, loving image. He had known everything about Pam, and everything he knew had further endeared her to him. He had spent years taking in her every little gesture, nuance, eccentricity. He had no idea why stupid little seemingly-irrelevant details had so much effect on him. Knowing that Pam liked cookie-dough ice cream, and liked to save all the dough chunks in a neat pile until the end shouldn't have made him love her more, but it did. Stupid little stuff like that... stuff that made her seem so real, so tangible, so human. Little details that he had clung to so readily with Pam, but was only just beginning to allow himself to see in Karen. Little details.

He smiled as he watched her pass out her bread pieces to the honking mass of ducks. Jim wouldn't feed them in the first place (ducks were for eating), but Karen had actually packed an extra piece of old bread just for that purpose. If Jim had been forced to feed them he would have dropped the whole piece in the center of the crowd and watched with amusement as the ducks fought over it like a bunch of horny pigs. Karen, in contrast, was passing out individual pieces and trying to make sure everyone got one. Jim laughed out loud as a particularly aggressive mallard stole a piece that was intended for his neighbor, and Karen scolded him and chased him off with a clenched fist.

Her bread supply exhausted, Karen sprung up and headed back toward Jim. The smile she had been wearing for her feathered friends faded just a bit. Over the past month or so, she had been acting alternately clingy and distant. She had been so fiercely independent in Stamford, but the move had been hard on her, and Jim did feel guilty about that. He had put her though a lot, and she in turn had dragged him through some long, painful conversations. In the end, though, he was unable to ever cut her loose completely, and he was glad he didn't, now that he was ready to turn the corner. Karen, however, seemed a little distant, a little off. She had been cornering him and asking him uncomfortable, probing questions like "What are you thinking about?" Jim was sure she was trying to coax three little words out of him but after he sent an unfeeling, reactive, "I love you too" in the direction of Katy, he had vowed to never again lie about that. Ever.

Karen made for her chair, but Jim reached out and tipped it over. As she flashed a puzzled look over his direction, he scooted further back in his chair and patted his lap.

"OK." Karen half mumbled and cautiously settled into Jim's lap, their combined weight threatening to collapse the wire and canvas picnic chair. He drew her back until her back was pressed tightly against his chest. He put his chin on her left shoulder, and with his right hand removed her cap, then pressed against her right cheek, forcing her to turn her head toward him. Their eyes met. She closed her's and opened her lips ever so slightly... waiting for a kiss that did not come. What she got instead was so much better.

"Karen, I love you." It was barely a whisper, but it didn't need repeating. She reached her arms backwards awkwardly until they wrapped around Jim's head, and then completed the unorthodox embrace by squeezing his cheek against hers. He could feel her breathing quicken, sharpen... flinch... was she crying? Jim felt her tears running down the seam where their two cheeks met. Lots of them. He tried to pull away and look at her but she refused to loosen her grip. It was an emotional moment, yes, but this was a little strange. Jim just held her, until about a minute later her crying subsided and she sat forward. She turned her body sideways and leaned back into his clutching arm, allowing her to turn her head and make clean eye contact.

This was strange. Yes, he had made her cry several times, but she wasn't really the crying type. Never like this. Not this much... this wet. There must be more to it. There must be. He had no idea...

Karen finally regained her voice.

"My God Jim, I'm so glad you said that... because in about ten minutes, I never would have believed you and we probably would have been apart forever."

"What happens in ten minutes..." Karen interrupted him.

"I was going to show you this..." She reached down and grabbed her purse, unzipped it, and pulled out a plain white envelope. It was unsealed. She handed it to him, and he reached inside and pulled out the single sheet of paper. Jim recognized it instantly. He had filled out the same form last May, only it had read "Jim Halpert" and "Stamford" instead of "Karen Filippelli" and "New York." Michael had already signed it. The only missing signature was his: Jim Halpert, Asst. Regional Manager, Dunder Mifflin Northeast.

Jim was immensely relieved as Karen took the form from him and ripped it to pieces. She was supposed to mark the end of his relationship drama... that was close. Too close. Still, something seemed just a bit off.

"Why now, Karen? You had to have known I was coming around, right?"

She began tearing up again as she brought her eyes up again to meet his.

"Because I couldn't do this with you if I thought you were just pretending to love me."

She reached into her purse again and pulled out another envelope, a smaller blue one. She handed it to Jim and he reached inside. He began his response as he reached inside.

"Why would I ever pretend to love you, Kar..."

He got his answer. My God. I guess I would have pretended...

Jim studied the small black and white blur on the paper in front of him. He could definitely make out the little arms... the tiny legs... the head.

He drew Karen closer and kissed her, happy that he finally didn't have to pretend to love her.