“Dunder-Mifflin, this is Pam.”
He had never even realised how accustomed he was to those five words until they were gone. They had become a comforting, familiar mantra over the last five years, but he had never heard them from the other side before. Sure, he had called in sick a hundred times, smiled wryly when Pam teased him about faking, but he had never been on the other other side.
He was now.
He cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling the heaviness weigh down his chest. “Uh, hi Pam. It’s Jim.”
Pam was silent on the other end of the line. He wasn’t entirely sure if he had just startled her, or if she still didn’t forgive him for leaving.
Her voice, when she finally spoke, was too cool and professional. She never spoke to him like that.
“Hi, how are you? What can I do for you?”
He unconsciously pulled at his tie, leaning back in his desk chair. He was determined to go through the motions of pleasantries, even if it killed him. He owed it to their friendship. “Uh, I’m good, thanks. I’m calling for Michael. We have to negotiate paper sales for the Scanton branch. Take your time putting me through though.”
His voice was joking, but she didn’t laugh in response. “I’ll put you through.”
His mouth tightened, and he resisted a deep, weary sigh. “Okay thanks.”
She put him on hold, and he drummed his fingers inattentively against the edge of the desk. “Okay,” she said swiftly, coming back a moment later. “Here he is.”
She hung up before he could utter another word, even the half-formed apology teetering on the edge of his lips. He bowed his head, and wondered what it could mean when he actually felt a small shred of relief on hearing Michael’s standard, obnoxiously loud greeting.
+
A week later, his new boss asked him to call again.
Jim knew he was just using him as an excuse not to deal with Michael directly. He couldn’t exactly blame the guy for that.
He toyed with the phone a moment before reluctantly lifting the receiver and punching in the numbers. The man in the desk across from him, Tom, was a middle-aged father of two who kept to himself, and rarely responded when Jim tried to strike up a conversation about his kids. Jim never thought he would miss Dwight’s self-important lectures so much.
“Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam.”
The words were mechanical she had spoken them so many times, and he still absorbed them eagerly.
“It’s Jim.”
She didn‘t even change her tone. “Do you want to speak to Michael?”
He closed his eyes. He couldn‘t ever remember such strain between them. “Yes, please.”
“He’s in a meeting with Jan, so you might have to wait for a second.”
“Okay.” He paused, glancing down at the pad of paper he had unconsciously covered in doodles. Across the desk, Tom eyed him disapprovingly. Jim ignored him.
“So… uh, how is everyone?”
Pam was quiet for a moment. He listened for the telltale sound of the keyboard, but the familiar clicking was absent. She wasn’t typing.
“They’re fine,” she answered, and for a moment, her voice held that familiar, casual lilt, and he could pretend that everything was normal. Everything was fine. “Angela and Dwight outed themselves to the office.”
His eyebrows lifted disbelievingly. “You’re kidding?”
“No, I’m not.”
“That must have been entertaining. Or, you know, disturbing.”
“Michael didn’t know how to handle it, so we had a seminar about office relationships and Dwight cried.”
A mischievous smirk tugged at his mouth. “I can’t believe I missed that.”
The mood between them immediately became morose again as his words registered. He wished he had stayed quiet. Pam cleared her throat, and her voice returned to its normal pitch. “Jan just left. I’ll put you through.”
He lowered his eyes, fingers tightening around his pen slightly.
“Pam?”
She paused, and he could hear her breathing on the other end of the line. The intimacy of the sound curled around him, taunting him with what he could not have.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry,” he murmured quietly.
He could hear rustling, and he wondered if she had even heard him. Then her voice, when it came back, was low and soft.
“I know.”
+
“Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam.”
The third time he punched in the numbers, it was starting to feel like routine. Some masochistic part of him even enjoyed enduring Michael’s Chris Rock impersonations if it meant he had that five second exchange with Pam.
Two months. Eight weeks and fifty seven days since their one, only kiss.
It was seared in his mind forever.
He wanted to tell her he was unhappy. He wanted to tell her he needed her, that he didn’t care if they were friends and nothing else if only he could see her everyday. If they could just go back to what they were. It was never what came out.
“So I assume you organised some kind of betting pool on the odds of Dwight and Angela’s relationship?”
Hiding his feelings behind jokes had always been so much easier.
Pam paused on realising who it was. “Uh no, I didn’t think of that one.”
He smiled faintly. “Shame on you, Beesly. Dwight breaking the rules like that right under your nose and you not even exploiting it.”
“I was never as good at rallying the troops as you were.”
He turned in his chair, because he could feel Tom’s eyes on him again. He twined his fingers around the cord, pulling it taut. “I’m leaving a fine legacy in your hands, Miss Beasly. Don’t waste it.”
He realised a soon as it left his mouth that she was Mrs. Anderson now. And it hurt, nearly as much as it did when June 10th rolled around, and he was in the middle of an impossibly white, empty apartment, surrounded by boxes.
“Can you page me through to Michael, please?” he asked, and he thought his voice sounded strangely hoarse.
He could hear Dwight yelling at someone in the background and it somehow made him feel even worse.
He was supposed to be escaping this. Moving on with his life. All he could do was linger on the past, on what he would never have.
If he was going to keep doing that, he might as well have stayed in Scranton.
“Yeah, of course,” Pam murmured. She hesitated, but she didn’t put him on hold.
“I wish you were here, Jim,” she said, softly. Her voice was so soft, so tentative, he almost thought he had imagined it, but the significant pause hovering afterwards made him know that he hadn‘t.
He shut his eyes, cradling the phone closer to his ear. Hope dangled limply in front of him, yet again, and he knew it was a bad. He knew he had to let it go.
“Yeah,” he said, resignedly, wondering how it was one got over the beautiful, intelligent, funny Pam Beesly. He only hoped Roy appreciated her just as much as he would have.
He would have loved her like she deserved.
“Yeah, me too.”
+
Author's Chapter Notes:
My first attempt at Office fic, so you know, be kind. Potential spoilers up to and following Casino Night.
Disclaimer: 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.teenwitch is the author of 2 other stories.
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