Time.

Jim Halpert was a man very much aware of the concept of time. Not just in the sense of the passing of birthdays, or by noting the seasons, or the start and end of school years or even the schedules of his favorite sports teams. No, it went deeper than that. He felt time nearly as keenly as someone twice or three times his age, and the reason was probably for very much the same reason: the dull ache of regret...the heavy-handedness of lost opportunities.

For someone whose outward persona exuded a natural charisma, who seemed to be a candidate for success in anything he decided to pursue, Jim felt that so much of his life had been squandered in fruitless waiting. Practically wasted away by waiting. The last few years especially had been a frustrating cycle of waiting and hoping, and then subsequent running and hiding – both literally and figuratively. It was time lost to him forever. Time he could never, would never, get back.

What it was not, however, was a grey cloudy fog of memories. It was more accurately the exact opposite. Jim's awareness of the passage of time had been carefully noted in his mind, in his heart, and perhaps most of all, in his soul. He'd carefully metered out the various amount of time attributable to the most important facts of his life. For example, just how long has it been since Pam first started working at Dunder Mifflin? 5 years, 3 weeks and 2 days on the last count. How many days were there until Pam married Roy? Back when that mattered he could have given that answer quicker than the bride-to-be ever could have. His need to keep time continued even when he would have denied he was doing it. When he lived in Stamford, he was always aware of the number of days that had passed since he last saw her, or as he often still thought of it – days since he'd last kissed her. On the night Jim drove back to Scranton from New York City because he needed to ask Pam out on a date, he knew it had been three hundred and seventy two days since he had kissed her. Fortunately it was also the night he had been able to set the counter back to zero.

Now there was a different calendar Jim followed. A method of marking the passage of time that brought him nothing but joy. Starting from the beginning had never felt better, and as each day he spent together with Pam passed, it became clear that for as much as things had changed, so many of the important, good things had stayed the same, and being aware of time was certainly one of them for Jim. It wasn't something he talked much about, because he knew it probably bordered almost on compulsion. Even Pam didn't need to know quite yet how obsessive he could be. But on the positive side he never needed reminded about any date that was special for them, even the ones he didn't mention. (The twenty-second month anniversary of the Dundies night when she drunkenly kissed him? Nah, that was one he was still keeping to himself right now.)

Today however, was different. Today could be recognized as one of the several benchmarks of their relationship he didn't feel quite so silly admitting. Today marked an anniversary between them – three months since that dinner date in May. Three months since the reward of that second kiss that put them on a new yet long-yearned for path. Three months since the world seemed renewed, and funny feelings like hope and excitement and contentment came creeping back into his life. And there was no way in hell he was going to pass up the chance to celebrate these facts with Pam.

Three months since their dinner date – he still marveled at how quickly the days seem to have passed. That night felt like yesterday to him. A dinner date that lead to a long meandering car ride as Jim drove them through the middle of nowhere, and the darkened seclusion gave them both the courage to finally speak the words that had remained bottled up for so long. The drive after their dinner date that lead to Pam's apartment for coffee and communication of a more non-verbal kind, the unspoken understanding that neither wanted the evening to end.

It did end, of course, but only in the sense that exhaustion and relief and comfort finally won out and they fell asleep together on Pam's couch. The next morning he awoke alone on the sofa, carefully tucked in with a blanket and pillow. He noted with an undeniable sense of disappointment the lack of Pam's presence and the fact that he was still fully dressed. However, when Pam appeared from her bedroom shortly afterwards and informed him with a gleam in her eye that she'd taken the liberty of calling them both off from work, he'd felt confident that the date really had been a success.

Now here they were, enjoying a break from the office by having lunch at the new Mexican restaurant that had opened just a few blocks from the Scranton Business Park. They sat close together at a small table, taking turns sneaking bites off each other's plate. Jim was pleased with his chile rellanos, and Pam raved over her seafood enchiladas. Neither had made mention of the day's significance, but Jim wasn't fooled. He'd been observing her all morning, and she had been cheerful to the point of giddiness. Every time he glanced over at her she gave him a smile that looked like she was moments away from bursting with a secret she was dying to tell.

Jim narrowed his eyes at her from over his water glass. “That's a new shirt, isn't it?”

“Oh this?” Pam replied casually. “I think it might be.”

Jim's glance completely took in the sight of Pam in the pink striped blouse. It fitted her a little more closely than some of her other work shirts, and she'd been a little more daring recently in letting more than just one button go undone. “Think it might be?” He raised his eyebrow sceptically. “Do you spend so much on fashion, Paris, that you can't even keep track of what's in your closet?”

Pam grinned down into her plate, and Jim laughed as her cheeks pinkened. She knew he'd busted her. “Yes,” she sighed heavily. “Of course it's new. You notice too much.” The tone of her voice made it clear he did no such thing.

“And would there be any particular reason for this lovely new purchase, especially given our recent discussion on my opinion of you dressed in that color?” The discussion he was referring to took place a few weeks back, and in reality was less of a conversation and more like impassioned whispers of his approval of her pink blouse and cardigan as he made quick work of removing the very same complimented garments.

Pam's smile changed from bashful to inviting almost instantly. “Maybe. Depends if you know what's special about today.”

Jim frowned in mock concentration. “It's Friday?” He finally suggested.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is Friday.” Pam rolled her eyes. “Congratulations.”

Jim's hand reached across the table and found hers. “Let's see. Today is the anniversary celebrating the fact we have been together for three months. Or ninety two days. Or thirteen weeks and an extra day left over. Or two thousand two hundred and eight minutes. Or one hundred thirty two thousand four hundred and eighty minutes. Or seven million-”

“Okay,” Pam gasped, equal parts surprised and impressed. “Stop – I get it.”

“Did you seriously think I wouldn't know what today is? And just for the record it's seven million nine hundred forty eight thousand eight hundred seconds. More or less.”

Whatever quick retort Pam was about to make died on her lips as their eyes met. Instead she sighed softly, glancing down at their joined hands and tightening her hold on him as she looked back up. “I'd have to be a fool to think for a moment that you wouldn't know.”

“I was wondering why you hadn't said anything earlier,” he said, the question implicit.

That slightly shy demeanor stole over her features again, and she smiled guiltily. “I didn't want you to think I was mentioning it because I expected anything.”

“So if I had mentioned it first you would have thought I was expecting something?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I know it sounds stupid when I say it out loud. That was the other reason I didn't say anything.”

“So you wouldn't sound stupid?” Jim was getting confused.

“No,” she shook her head adamantly. “To prevent you from teasing me. About making a big deal over it.”

“Come on,” Jim replied, “You know me better than that.”

“What?” Her eyes grew big with shock. “Are you even daring to suggest you wouldn't tease me?”

“Of course not! Naturally I'd tease you. That's a given.” Jim's smile softened as he stroked his thumb against hers. “But you know this is a big deal to me, too. I mean really, Pam – after everything?”

“I know,” Pam said. “I'm sorry. Sometimes I still forget that -”

“That I'm not Roy?” He supplied helpfully.

“God no,” Pam sputtered. “I could never make that mistake in a million years.”

“Then forget what?”

“Forget that I don't have to hide how I really feel from you anymore, I guess,” she finally confessed.

Jim moved his chair a little closer to hers. “You find yourself doing that too, huh?” He asked conspiratorially.

She smiled gratefully at his confession. “There are still times I get butterflies in my stomach when I tell you the simplest of things.”

“Like what?”

She studied his face for a moment, paying particular attention to how intently he was looking back at her. Looking at her like he really saw her – not just the person seated next to him, but the person deep down, the one even she had a hard time finding sometimes. “Like how much I love you,” she replied, her voice steady and quietly confident.

“Was it too scary that time?”

“Now you're teasing me again.”

“No, no, I'm not,” Jim insisted. “Not really, anyway. I would be lying if I said I didn't know exactly what you meant.” Jim stared down at his food, clearly struggling with his words. He glanced up at Pam, and found some resolve in her encouraging nod. “Sometimes I worry about how much to say because I fear it will scare you away.”

Pam smiled and place her free hand over their joined ones. “Never going to happen,” she said firmly.

“You say that now, but you have no idea the kinds of thoughts I have.”

“Oh, I think I do,” she laughed. “Besides, I can always tell you to shut up.”

“Good point.” They continued their meal in relative silence for a few minutes, then Jim spoke up again. “So maybe today we should celebrate our small but definite progress on being able to talk to each other?”

“Exactly what kind of gift do you give for that?” She teased.

“It's not about the gifts, Pam,” he chided.

“It's not?” She pouted.

“No. It's about acknowledging that we've always been pretty hopeless at making things any easier than they could be.”

“I suppose so, although now it sounds like we are in some sort of 12-step program.”

“Like Alcoholics Anonymous?”

“More like Dorks Anonymous.” She said challengingly.

“Wow, yeah,” Jim laughed softly. “Like you haven't been in that for years.”

“With you as my sponsor.”

“Nice. Happy Anniversary to you, too.”

Pam leaned over and kissed his cheek. “So what would the 12 steps of our recovery program include exactly?”

Jim put his fork down and rubbed his jaw. “I'm not quite sure, but I can say with certainly that most of them would require being naked.”

“More water?” The sound of the waitress's voice made them jump in surprised. Jim could only nod and Pam held her napkin to her mouth to prevent the laughter that was threatening to overwhelm her. The waitress was barely out of earshot when they both dissolved into giggles.

“Nice,” Pam whispered, wiping the tears out of her eyes. “I bet she's just gone back to tell the rest of the staff what perverts we are. Be prepared to get kicked out of here.”

“Well, that's nothing new for you,” he ribbed. “Soon there won't be a place in Scranton you will be able to go to get decent fajitas.”

“Are you sure you want to keep associating with such an undesirable restaurant patron?”

“I think I'll be okay,” he mused. “You've got a few things going for you that off-set that deep character flaw.”

“Thanks. That makes me feel so much better.”

“It does however narrow the places we could go out to tonight.”

“We're going out tonight? Since when?”

Jim sighed dramatically. “Beesly, it's our anniversary. Did it not occur to you we'd go out?”

Pam shrugged. “It wasn't an automatic assumption, no. What did you have in mind?”

“I don't know, I thought you might have some preference.”

“Is there any place new we haven't been to yet?”

“There is that new Italian place in Carbondale that Toby mentioned the other day. Oh, and I think I saw a sign for something called The Marrakesh or something similar out on Dunmoor.”

“The store front with all the gold and purple banners in the windows?”

“Yeah, that one. It's Moroccan, I believe. Lots of low lighting and incense where you sit on big pillows on the floor and eat around a low table. Could be nice.”

“And expensive, from what I heard.”

“It doesn't matter, Pam,” Jim insisted. “It's our anniversary.”

“Maybe for our six months and one day anniversary.”

“Oh, you are not going there, are you?”

Pam giggled slightly. “I'm just saying it's probably more appropriate for a bigger anniversary.”

“And being together one day longer than my last relationship makes it a big anniversary.”

“Absolutely it does.”

“So by that logic, how big a deal will ten years and one day be?”

“Oh, you can't even begin to imagine how huge that day's going to be,” she grinned. “That one will phenomenally huge. Definitely a big one.” She pointed her finger at him. “And don't even think it, much less say it.”

“Say what?” He asked innocently.

She mouthed the infamous Michael phrase, and Jim shook his head in amusement. At least they'd already made it to the point that referring to past relationships didn't automatically cause hurt feelings or resentment. It would take a lot longer than three months to lose all sensitivity to the subject, but it felt good to know that there were times like these when they could joke about it then let it go.

Jim cleared his throat. “So tell me then: how does one celebrate three months together?”

“Well...” Pam began thoughtfully. “The demolition derby is at the Lackawanna County Fairgrounds this weekend.”

Jim cocked his head. “I'm not sure if it scares me more that you might actually be offering that as a possibility, or that you even know that information at all.”

“Maybe I just like the sound of loud revving engines,” she said suggestively. “You know you can really feel the vibrations when they get going.”

“I bet they do,” he smirked. “And do you also enjoy the flying bits of metal as machines slam into each other?”

“Oooh,” Pam enthused. “Yeah, that could be totally hot.”

“Shut up,” Jim laughed. “I had no idea you were such a wanton woman.”

“Liar,” she giggled. “So does that mean you won't take me?”

“Let me put it to you this way,” Jim said, obviously trying to look serious but failing miserably. “I think I'd rather be stripped naked and tied down with my own belt, necktie and shoelaces.”

“Now you're talking,” Pam practically purred. “What time did you want to come over?”