~After~

Waiting

He tries to keep things light, despite the nagging ache in his chest.

This weekend was already not going as they'd planned.  The weather has turned horrible - icy and cold. 

He'd been worried the whole time she drove up to Stamford.

Nearly five hours after Pam had left Pennsylvania she finally stood before him on his doorstep, shivering and sniffling. 

He took one look at her and was pretty sure she had the flu.

So now, she's wrapped up in blankets, sound asleep in his bed.  When she first fell under he'd braved the cold and run to the supermarket to get some chicken soup.  He'd coax her to eat when she finally woke up. 

And because it was for her, he splurged for the home-style kind, with the big, broad noodles.

He wishes that taking care of her is all he could think of, all he had to focus on as he watches her sleeping but it seems he has other things on his mind.

He feels this ever present, unending need to fix this.

She coughs softly and he moves closer, running a hand over her cheek.   Her skin is warm now, finally, but it's almost too warm. 

Worry fills his mind again.

Slowly her eyes flutter open and she smiles softly.  "I'm sorry."  She whispers, her voice sounding like she's swallowed sandpaper.

He looks at her as if she's crazy.  "What are you apologizing for?"

"This."  She replies, moving to sit up a bit and rubbing at her nose with a tissue.  "Not exactly a romantic weekend."

His hand rests on her cheek and he leans close, as if to kiss her. 

She pulls away sharply.  "Jim.  Don't.  I'm all germy."

"I'll take my chances."  He winks as his lips land on her forehead.  He places a soft kiss there, lingering a bit.  He pulls away and gives her a nod.  "I was right, you do have a fever."

She chuckles at him in spite of it all, her chuckle quickly morphing into a wracking cough. 

"That's very scientific."  She finally manages.  "Who taught you that trick?"

He shrugs.  "My mom used to do that with us."

Despite the fact that she felt like she'd been run over by a truck her heart melted a bit at the image of him as a little boy, dressed in cowboy pajamas, his mother kissing his forehead to see if he was sick or not. 

And then, as she sits there, she sees something similar.  Just a bit different.   She sees another little boy, one who has her smile, sitting up in bed wearing the same pajamas. 

She then sees an image of Jim - repeating the gesture he’d just made to her. 

Her eyes well up as she stares over at him.

"What?" 

"Nothing.  You…just…"  She feels foolish and shakes her head.  "Nothing."

"Delirium setting in?"  He asks, raising one eyebrow curiously.

"Probably."  She smiles widely and then turns her mouth into a pout. "Being sick sucks."

He smiles back at her.  "You should really go into advertising.  That's a great slogan."

"Jim."  She croaks again.

"Seriously.  Let me get a few pictures of you.  You can be the new face of influenza."   He stands and pretends to be about to do just that.

"Stop it."  She laughs and has another spectacular coughing fit. 

He moves to sit beside her on the bed and holds a glass of orange juice to her lips.  "Here.  Drink."   He pushes her curls from her face.  "I'm sorry.  I'll stop."

"Thank you."  She whispers gratefully as he places the glass back down.

He knows this isn't a good time, but there never seems to be one.  And he thinks he might have a better chance with her in a weakened state.

"So. Now that I have you here…"

"Mmm hmm?"  She murmurs as she lies her head back down again.

"…kind of at my mercy, we're going to talk about a few things."

"OK."  She sighs and closes her eyes.

He takes a breath, waits a beat and then just goes for it.  "I want you to move in here."

Her eyes open widely.  She can't believe that he's actually going to do this now.  "Jim…"  She says wearily.

He swallows and stares at her intently.  "Pam.  Please.  Hear me out.  If you take the internship Stamford is much closer to New York…"

"It's not that - Jim.  It's just…"  She sneezes and when she looks back up at him she looks like a deer in headlights.  "I don't want to do that."

"Do what?"  He keeps trying to be patient, trying to understand but he doesn't get what her problem is.

"Leave him and then become just as dependant on you."

Her voice is shaking, as are her shoulders.  It seemed that, along with a fever, she now had the chills. 

"I want it to be different.  It should be different now.  With you…"

Pam couldn't believe him.  She was sick, damnit.  Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

He scoffs at her.  "C'mon.  That's not what I meant."

Her eyes glitter with annoyance as she meets his gaze.  "You do.  I know you.  I can see it.  You're doing it right now."

"What?"

She blows her nose, rather ungracefully before she replies.  "Swooping in.  Taking care of me.  Planning my life out for me."

She was not the only one who was annoyed.  Jim shrugs and gives her a look.  "Better than not making plans at all." 

As the words leave his lips he wishes, more than anything, that he could take them back.

They’re still hanging in the air as she pushes him away and throws back the covers, attempting to stand.

"I'm sorry."  He says softly as he reaches for her arm.

She manages to pull herself upright, albeit on wobbly legs, and moves past him. 

"Pam.  C'mon.  Stop.  You're sick."  He calls after her, his voice full of concern.

She holds a hand to her chest, coughing violently as she makes her way to the chair and grabs her sweater. 

"Of this!?" She says, her voice a gravel-y whisper. "Absolutely."

"Pam."

She doesn't answer, simply begins to turn it right side out so she can get dressed.

He reaches her in two strides.  "Pam.  Stop.  That sweater is soaking wet."

"I'm already sick - it won't…"  Much to her frustration, she loses her voice halfway through the sentence.  "…kill me."  She attempts to finish but winds up mouthing the last two words.

She can't stop the thoughts from filling her brain.

But this might.  You might.  You're making this so much more difficult than it has to be. 

Jim reaches for her, desperately trying to pull her into his arms.  She twists and turns and tries to get away.

"Don't."  He finally manages to get her to stop.  He pulls her close and rests his chin on the top of her head.  "I'm so sorry."

More than anything else in the world Pam wishes she could talk so that she can yell at him.  She wants to scream at him and tell him that if he'd only just let her do this on her own he won't be at all disappointed.  She wants to tell him if he’s just a little more patient she won't let him down.  She just needs a little more time to process it all. 

Instead she pulls back and gives him a look that cuts him off at his knees. 

"Pam."

He knows her so well, she doesn't need to say a word.  Her eyes say everything for her.

I am so furious with you.

"I know."  He answers guiltily.

This is so unfair.  Ambushing me like this when I can barely defend myself.

"I know."  He hangs his head.

She tries to speak again, but he can only hear every other word.  "It's not that I don't love you."  

At least the words he got to hear contained 'I love you'.  He thinks with a sigh.

"Shh.  OK.  You don't have to talk.  I know."

She looks up at him, her eyes watery, and what he needs to know is residing there. 

He just can’t see it.

I haven't done enough for you yet.  Don't you understand?  You need to let me make it up to you a little bit.  You need to let me see for myself what you see when you look at me.  Because I haven't seen that girl in a really long time.  I don't even know her anymore.

And I can't be with you - really with you - until I find her again.

Those are the thoughts he can't quite figure out yet.  The ones that hold the key to this whole thing.

She leans on his arm and makes her way to the bed, still clutching her soggy sweater in her fist. 

For a second he's sure she's actually going to punch him with it.

"Just…please."  She breathes as she lays back down, drained completely from the whole ordeal.

She falls into sleep so dark and so deep that in the back of her mind she knows that part of her doesn't want to wake up.  

She knows the next morning they'll have to deal with it all again.

Jim leans close and kisses her brow, worry filling his own. 

He realizes he's just been entirely unfair to her - more than that, he's been completely unreasonable.  To try and get her to discuss something when she's clearly sick was ridiculous.  But he's become desperate it seems.   Desperate to finally be with her, to have the life he knows is waiting for them just out of reach. 

He leans close and places a kiss on her cheek as he whispers.  "You know that I would right?   You have to by now.  You know that I'd marry you in a second, Pam."  He murmurs as he tucks a stray curl behind her ear.  "I would, if you'd…just…let me."

He knows there’s a reason she’s been so reluctant but he’s too close to it to really see it clearly.

Why won't you let me?

He knows his tactics have been absurd, he knows his thoughts are completely irrational.  Still only one thing fills his mind as he sits by her side and simply watches her again.

If you could just tell me how much more time Pam.  Please?  Just so I'd know… 

It seems that since the moment he met her all he ever does is wait.