* * *
“What on earth is wrong with you?” Jeremy hissed at her, visibly alarmed. She wanted to turn towards him, to look at him, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the man who had just walked in. He was too far for her to distinguish his features clearly, but it hardly mattered. She knew him, knew those straight, broad shoulders and the clean set of his jaw. She knew the way he walked, the way he self-consciously pulled himself up to his full height, the way he almost put his hands in his pockets.
“Do you see that tall man right behind Lila, the one shaking hands with the woman in the lavender dress?” she asked Jeremy at last, still unable to turn away from the sight. Beside her, Jeremy sucked in a noisy breath, and exhaled it quickly.
“Is that -?”
“That’s Jim Halpert,” and it was as though saying his name broke the queer hold his startling presence had on her. Tension still had her body in a painful vise, but she managed to collect herself enough to stop staring and turn back to Jeremy, whose wince made her realize how fiercely she had been clenching his arm. She loosened her hold slightly. “We have to go. I have to go. Tell them I got sick. Or kidnapped.” Her voice sounded odd to her own ears, pleasant and almost conversational, except that she wasn’t smiling, and an unfamiliar hysteria had begun to bubble up deep beneath her calm exterior. Jeremy said nothing, mouth still slightly open and brows knit. “Jeremy.” she repeated. “I have to go -”
“No.” He interrupted her forcefully, grabbing her arms and swiveling her so that she faced him properly. He began speaking in a terse whisper that managed to cut through the panic that was clouding her brain. “You know just as well as I do how bloody important tonight is. We don’t get a second chance, love, so I need you to remember that this is not Pamela Beesly’s night.” Pam started, eyes widening. “We are here tonight as artists, and we are here on behalf of our art. Now I swear to you,” he continued in a softened tone, “when this is all over, we will sit down and sort out this mess, but for now I need to you to compose yourself and focus on the actual reason we’re here.”
“But what if he sees me? Thank God he’s not looking this way. Why is he even here? God, Jeremy, what do I do?”
“Nothing. You are clearly in no condition to be seeking him out. You are going to hold my hand, and we are going to find you a glass of wine. I’ll speak to Greta and see if she can’t keep him as far away from you as possible.”
“And if…?” she trailed off, not daring to finish her question.
“You will greet him cordially. A ballroom is no place for a fucking heart to heart.”
“So ‘hello, I think I’m still madly in love with you’ is out of the question?” she shot back wryly, and Jeremy grinned in response.
“Thank goodness. If you’re back to being a smart aleck then I can stop worrying. But one last thing,” he said carefully, tightening his grip on her arms and waiting for her to meet his eyes. “It’s been a long time, love. He might not be the same man you’ve been carrying around inside you. People change. You’ve changed, too. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
A cold wash of dread swept down to her toes, and Pam cursed the perverse twist of fate that had brought about the convergence of her past and her future. “Yes,” she choked out, and gave him a swift grimace before raising her head high. He watched her carefully as they stepped down together, her confident poise belied only by the shaking of her hand in the crook of his arm.
“Cheers, Morrie,” he said quietly, and they reached the last step unnoticed.
* * *
Author's Chapter Notes:
Definitely got hit by the writing bug this week. This chapter's short, but necessary.
Chapter End Notes:
:D
