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Story Notes:

I don't own any of the characters in this story.  They're part of the multi-national corporation that is NBC Universal/Ricky Gervais.  Oh, and I think Carroll's work is up for respectful grabs.  That's what she said.

Read this ficlet and then check out "The Jabberwocky" if you've never read it!  Oh, and there are several Alice in Wonderland/Through the Looking-glass references...have fun :)

A basketful of beets to Cousin Mose for the super-fantastic beta-job.  Keep rockin'!

 

“And the mome raths outgrabe” 

     Pam was bored.  Dunder Mifflin was boring.  And being a receptionist was the boringest of all.  All she ever did was type black words on a white page on a glaring screen.  What was the point of her holding a job that had nothing to do with design, or art, or any kind of graphics at all?  A few things had changed for Pam in the years since the documentary crew had arrived.  Unfortunately, one of the changes had not been a new job.  For the better part of her adult life, Pam had been working at Dunder Mifflin.  For just as long, she’d been wondering when and how she would escape the doldrums of her days, both personal and professional.  Jim’s declaration of love, followed by his speedy removal to Connecticut, were not exactly the jolts that Pam had been looking for when she’d prayed for motivation to change her life.  She ached to see her friend again, and for a time it seemed that all was lost. 

 

     And then he came back to her.

 

     But it was not the same.  They were not the same.

 

     Somehow, Pam had grown into herself.  After Jim left and she’d called off the wedding, she’d been a shriveled violet, never mind a shrinking one, functioning in only the most necessary ways.  Regaining composure over the longest summer of her life, Pam grew up, reaching heights she couldn’t have conceived of a year before: taking art classes, living on her own, buying a car?  Crazy talk.  But it wasn’t impossible (nothing was impossible, she told herself), and with those changes Pam managed to walk through the door that Jim had opened in May...and there were nothing but possibilities.

“The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!” 

     Despite Pam’s maturation, she had trouble understanding the Jim that came back to DM, finding the shocking lack of yogurt medals, lengthy break room discussions, and bubbling laughter to be disheartening.  Jim hadn’t really come back to her and after seeing the affection between the new girl and her old best friend, Pam felt as though she was falling down a dark, deep chasm. On the way down, she purposely hurt this Other Jim, asking Ryan for blind dates in front of him, but she also wounded her pride by going back to Roy.  Her reunion with Roy created the illusion that her freefall had stopped: the bottom was “Phyllis’s” wedding.  I can only go up from here

 

     Feeling decidedly strong and longing for honesty, Pam revealed all of her fancy new self to Roy...a plan which backfired spectacularly. After Roy’s attempt to pummel Jim, Pam’s meek apology to the paper salesman was met with the terse reassurance that she and Roy would find their way back to each other.  She was in the blackest gloom; now to climb out of it.

“So rested she by the Tumtum tree” 

     For a while, she waited for her white knight to rescue her, whomever or whatever it may be.  Turned out that fairytale saviors were just another illusion and Pam would have to save herself.  Doubt filled Pam’s mind: why was she chasing after Jim?  What had he done for her but been friends with her: loved her, kissed her, and then abandoned her?  That was not a relationship to risk her sanity for.  Why had she followed him into this void of disappointment and heart-ache?  From the looks of it, he was doing no better than she was (turns out, neck reading is pretty accurate) and Pam was begrudgingly glad that he was miserable.  They made quite a pair, his Tweedle-Dumbass to her Tweedle-I Love You But This Is Killing Me And I Don’t Know How To Tell You-Dee. 

“And stood awhile in thought” 

     After realizing no one would save her, it was hard for Pam to develop any sense of normalcy to rest upon.  At the time, there was an abnormal amount of idiocy in the office.  And Pam really wanted some normal; just a smidge would do.  Also, someone to talk to would be great. Thanks. 

     Jan could have been that person.  She wasn’t in the office all that often, but you know, she was female and spoke English and wasn’t Angela or Kelly.  Although even before Michael had confessed so forthrightly that Jan was a nutty, controlling dominatrix, Pam had decided not to ask for her advice. Jan had never been very friendly with her except for that internship way back when.  She wished that she could tell Jan off, tell her that Michael was a sweet guy, however misguided his efforts could be. Leave him be!  And why did you let Karen come to Scranton!?  You suck!  Suffice it to say, Pam liked her head where it was and kept her mouth shut.

     Karen’s birthday was in late March.  There’d already been two birthdays that month, Michael and Meredith’s, and yet, surprise surprise, Michael demanded yet another party.  The PPC gathered to plan the party and Pam zoned out for the entire meeting.  Karen’s happiness was not high on Pam’s list of priorities; there were paper clip chains to be made and Harry Potter fanfic to be read.  Do I really need to be here? Actually Michael was irking Pam more than Karen or Angela at that moment.  His mad antics, running around the conference room, flailing his arms around to punctuate his requests for cookie dough ice cream cake and chocolate frosting and "maybe some bunnies 'cause Easter is on Sunday"?  Enough!  When the meeting was over, Pam exited the room, eyes flashing.  She took a long break and walked around the block while listening to Simon and Garfunkel.  She thought about taking a personal day on Karen’s birthday and visiting her parents.  This week called for comfort food. 

“And, as in uffish thought she stood...” 

     Pam had shown impressive will-power/stupidity during the Summer From Hell by not calling Jim, nor e-mailing him incessantly, nor maniacally driving to Stamford.  That restraint was nothing compared to the strength it took not to cover him with kisses when he looked the way he did today.  He hadn’t slept at all, she was sure of it.  What the hell had he been up to?  Surely they weren’t, you know, ummm-ing all weekend.  Ew, ew, ew....she didn’t want to know.  Eff; she really did not like this.  Maybe Jim wasn’t worn out from sheet-wrestling; maybe he was upset about something.  I blame Karen.  Pam wished a monster would come and chomp on Karen.  She would definitely relish that.  Of course, Dwight would whip out a katana or some such weaponry and then the vorpal blade would go snicker-snack in the monster’s belly, thus saving Karen.  As a result Pam would probably snap and then where would she be?  Dammit.  That totally wouldn’t work. 

     Daydreaming had become more and more of a refuge for Pam during these trying no-Jim/no-Roy times, and she had some difficulty extracting herself from this state while at work.  Her fancy new life had become burdensome, and at times Pam was overcome by the sensation that she was outgrowing the changes she’d made.  She was fitful, restless, and irritable.  She hated her tiny apartment that suffocated her with its low ceilings and drab colors.  When such feelings swept over her, Pam imagined painting the walls of her living-dining-kitchen room (it was a seriously small apartment), carefully adding freehand details as necessary.  Shaking herself out her painting fantasies, Pam looked up to see Kevin talking to Creed, asking him about his rock and roll days in the 60’s.  Creed wore a Cheshire grin, as he was wont to do; Pam was pretty sure that he was daydreaming too, probably about being in San Francisco and hanging out with the Grateful Dead.  Though she suspected that Creed lived in a haze of smoke back then, so...who knew what he was thinking.

 

“Long time the manxome foe she sought” 

     As part of Pam’s branching out process, the art show was a success. Although just getting the word out had been trying.  Toby’s reaction was a tad strange, but, um, whatever.  Oscar thought that Toby way over-reacted to things: he was usually crying over spilt milk when he got upset about something.  Not that he cried about not going to Pam’s show...to her knowledge.  She liked that Toby cared about the people in the office.  It was nice and HR should have that quality about them.  Hardly anyone else in the office did.  But really, the moping had to go.  Speaking of Oscar, he was a bit gruff with his criticism of her art, and Gil even more so, and Pam needed that.  She needed someone real like Oscar to open her eyes to the childishness of what she’d been doing. There should be less logic and more passion in her work. And her life. 

     As springtime rolled along, Pam and Jim had fits and starts of talking to one another and then avoiding each other at all costs.  It was as though Pam was the last queen in a game of chess, chasing Jim’s horse around the board. Oh, knight; not horse.  Jim always hated it when she called it a horse, which it was.  The back and forth both tired and excited Pam, but she felt as though analyzing Jim’s actions was fruitless, so she tried to keep herself sane by taking what he did at face value.  Which had always worked before, when she’d deluded herself that he didn’t worship the very jelly beans she plied him with. Yeah, she’d end the psychoanalysis.  Jim was a riddle, more challenging than any Sudoku Pam could possibly work in her vast collection of puzzle books.  Ooo...Sudoku; that reminded Pam that she’d yet to work the puzzle in that day’s paper.  Too bad she couldn’t report her scores to Jim anymore.  He’d be impressed by her diligent study and vast improvement over the past few months.

 

 “She went galumphing back” 

     The day at the beach...yeah, there wasn’t much to say about that except holy crap.  There was turning over a new leaf and then there was bulldozing the tree.  Pam went with the latter and for better-or-worse, she got a reaction out of Jim, that was for sure.  Oh, and from Karen, which wasn’t awkward in the least.  Good times...good times.

 

     Thankfully, that literally stunning “speech on the beach”, as Michael referred to it, made way for Jim and Pam talking to each other at work.  In front of Karen.  Duun...duun...duuuuuun.  Who’d’ve thought!  It was kind of weird – well, maybe not weird exactly – but Pam found that her apartment didn’t feel quite as suffocating anymore and that she didn’t daydream as much at work.  Of course, Jim’s announcement that he was interviewing for a corporate job in New York made her want to throw up her Darjeeling, so things weren’t quite perfect.  But they were getting there. 

“Oh, frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!” 

     As she sat in the conference room, waiting for the producer and cameraman to arrange their respective note cards and cords, Pam was reflecting upon the events of the day and trying to figure out just how she would get through the interview without bursting into tears.  She felt as though she had to defend herself somehow and also defend what Jim was doing, going to New York for that job.  But Pam understood it.  She had spoken her piece and Jim’s trip to New York was his response, his deafening rejection of her.  It was okay.  Pam wasn’t going to implode like she’d done before.  It is what it is.  Oh, wow.  Cliché much?  It is what it is...come on.  That’s so dumb. 

 

      What else could she say?  She and Jim were kind of on trial here and Pam had to come up with something good to get Jack, the producer, off her back so that she could collect herself, make it through to 5 o’clock (which was in 6 minutes) and get the hell out of Dunder Mifflin Scranton. She just wanted to be in her apartment where she could have the freak-out session she needed.  Even for a just a few minutes.  No one could possibly be asked to calmly deal with the love of their life living them again.  Dan the cameraman was ready and cleared his throat to signal Pam. 

 

 “Come to my arms, my beamish Jim!”

     Settling upon the easy “we’ll still be friends and it’s good for Jim’s career” route, Pam was performing admirably for the camera, shining a white, toothy smile that made her eyes squinty and her cheeks taut.  She was ready to pull out the big guns, the lame lie that she would surely see Jim again and they would pal around New York together some day. And then Jim opened the door a little too eagerly and burst in upon Pam’s affecting, though false, confession.  Her heart stopped.  Time stopped.  Closing her eyes and then slowly parting her eyelids while Jim babbled, Pam was fully awake for the first time in months.  And she sensed that the nightmare of Other Jim was over and her brain felt like all its neurons were going off at once, her field of vision sparkling with fireworks. 

 

     Jim shut the door, and Pam’s eyes welled with the tears she didn’t want to shed for the producer, but for herself at home.  Her mind was a blank as far as the documentary went; for a moment, she couldn’t even recall what she was doing in the conference room.  Pam’s more sensible faculties returned to her as she beamed at Jack and floated out of the door.  Seeing Jim’s sport coat on his rightful chair, Pam was Pam again, back from the other side of the mirror and that bizarro world where she and Jim didn’t talk, or laugh, or flirt, or joke, or touch, or smile.  It was finally 5 o’clock wanted to sprint to her car.  Rounding the corner of her desk to pick up her purse, Pam spied a can of coke next to her mouse.  Atop the can, in Jim’s boyish scrawl, the words “Drink Me” were written on a sticky note.  Peeling the note off, Pam saw another note beneath: “Now call me.  Love, Jim.”

 

 



secondrink is the author of 4 other stories.
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