“Okay.” He tried to sound normal, tried to ignore the fact that his heart was pounding in his ears.

“He just sent me roses – that was all.” There was something defensive in her voice that sent off alarm bells.

“Okay.” He repeated again, eyes closing.

Then he forced himself to ask, “And….?”

“And what?” He knew she was trying to sound blank, nonchalant.

The fact that she was hiding something from him cut him to the core, terrified him. She wasn’t telling him everything, and he knew it. 

Goddamn him.  He didn’t give a damn about her all those years, and now that he’s lost her, he’s gone all….dreamy and sensitive and…. 

God damn it, why did I take this fucking transfer? 

He’d told his brother that it was the greatest irony of his life – a life that had been marked by many, many ironies – that he’d taken the transfer in a moment of utter desperation, thinking there was no chance.

And then she’d kissed him back, hands in his hair, lips against his own, weakening him, hardening him.

But now this.

“What do you want me to say, Jim?” Her voice was strained.

He knew in his gut that there was something more to this – that Roy hadn’t just sent her flowers.  Something more had happened, something that she felt compelled to hide from him.

He just couldn’t figure out exactly what.

“I want you to tell me the truth.” His voice was hard; he almost didn’t recognize it in its flat, almost dead quality.

“Are you accusing me of lying to you?” She sounded hurt, stunned.

Again, his gut whispered that there was more here, that he needed to push her a little further.

“I didn’t say that.” His voice was tensed, eyes closed.

How did we get here, Pam?

But he knew how: Months, years of denying, repressing, pretending.

And while the IM’ing had been fun and slightly sexy at first, their limited communication was starting to break him down.

He needed her closer….so much closer.

“Then what?” She was crying now.

His eyes closed.

“Okay….so what happened?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Silence….a few muffled gasps.

“Pam….?”

“He kissed me.” Her voice was choked, nasal, as if she had a cold.

He felt her answer in his gut….the reaction so visceral he felt actually nauseas for a second.

“Okay.” His voice was steady, but only because he forced it to be.

“I didn’t expect him to, Jim.” She was crying openly now, guilt tearing at her.

“I know.” His voice was gentle, even though he hadn’t really known.  In fact, for all he knew, she was thinking of running back to Roy.

Because it would’ve been so much easier – so much easier – than holding on to a long distance relationship that hadn’t even begun before they’d had to say goodbye.

The desperation he’d felt when he’d been forced to work with her every day – pretending that there was nothing there other than a deep, abiding friendship – was nothing compared to the utterly terrifying helplessness he felt now.

Silence fell as he waited for her to say something…because it was up to her to say something now. 

He wasn’t the one who had kissed someone else.

The silence was deafening.

He was stunned, actually, that she couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

And therein lay his answer.

A full five minutes must’ve passed; he forced himself to remain silent, thinking that he wouldn’t make it any easier on her.

Because damn it, if she was going to take the easy road – run right back to Roy – then the least he could do was make it hard on her.

But when she hadn’t said anything, he’d finally caved.

“Pam….?”

“What?”  Her voice was small, tight.

He could’ve hung up the phone right then because he knew how the conversation would end.

Still, he pressed on, thinking, no, it can’t be too late.

 “What are you trying to tell me?” His voice was little more than a whisper.

“I don’t know.” She’d choked on a sob; his eyes closed.

It’s over; he won the game….home field advantage.  I’m a fucking idiot. 

Why was I so quick to run away?
 

Another several minutes had passed slowly, painfully.

Then he’d forced himself to say, “Listen, Pam….”

He stopped abruptly, swallowing over the lump in his throat.

Silence on her end of the phone, though he could’ve sworn he heard her choke back a sob.

He knew he had no choice – simply no choice.

“I get it.” His voice was hoarse.

“Get what?” She sounded panicked now, and he wasn’t surprised.

Because that was her way: To rely on him to be there, always, and then freak out if he retreated a few steps.

He thought of Rachel, the girl he worked with….stunning, gorgeous, sharp and funny – something about her the polar opposite of Pam.

She’d asked him out for a drink two days ago, and he’d frozen, panicked.

She hadn’t faltered, had looked at him steadily. 

“I just….” He couldn’t finish for a second, then forced himself to: “You don’t have to….do this.  I just – I get it.  This isn’t happening.”

“What….?”  She’d sounded bewildered, confused.

He felt empty, sick.

Couldn’t do this anymore. 

He found himself remembering for some strange, inexplicable reason of the first girl he’d ever dated.  When they’d broken up, she had suddenly slapped his face, the stinging sensation stunning him.

He’d have taken that any day over this….her hesitation, her silence, her ambivalence.

Because he’d never once looked back, never once doubted what he felt for her.

And if roses from Roy were enough to give her pause….then maybe she didn’t deserve him.

Maybe he should move the fuck on.

“Jim….?” There was a thin note of hysteria woven into her voice.

His eyes closed.

“Listen, this doesn’t have to be…..”  He couldn’t finish for a second, contradicting himself. 

He forced himself to finish.

“….a big deal.”  He swallowed hard. “We’ll still be friends, close.  But this….it’s just not happening.”

“Jim!” She was crying openly now.

Something in him felt pulled, aching.

But there was a wary part of him that said simply no more.  

“Pam….” His voice was throaty. “This obviously isn’t what you want.”

She hadn’t said anything, had simply sobbed into the phone, prompting him to close his eyes, arms tensing reflexively at his sides.

Then: “It doesn’t have to be something awful.  We’re still….”

He stopped then, tears in his throat as he listened to her sob, gasping and gulping back the breaths.

But still not saying, Jim, don’t do this; I want you, not Roy.  

“We’re still family.” He whispered, the words coming out unbidden.  He wished it weren’t so – hated himself for saying it, even more for feeling it. 

But it was the truth.

“Good night.” He’d said then, not waiting for her response, hanging up the phone before she could say anything….before he could beg her to change her mind, to make it all go away.

He sat with his head in his hands for the next half hour.

________________________________________________________________________

The next night he found himself sitting across from Rachel, genuinely taken aback at how incredibly beautiful she was – mocha skin gleaming, blue eyes dazzling against her skin tone, dark hair silky as glass cascading down her shoulders.

Her body language indicating that she was clearly attuned to him, listening to his stories, laughing at his jokes….not hesitating or denying or running away.

And he wasn’t faking it, either, when he smiled across at her, thinking to himself how genuinely funny she was.

Something had shifted imperceptibly in him.

He wasn’t over Pam, not even close…..but he wasn’t waiting for her anymore.  Understood that it would’ve been nothing short of self-defeating if he’d waited for her.

Because she was obviously sliding backward.

And he’d taken this transfer because he’d made a promise to himself never to take steps backward again….ever.

Rachel was making it easier not to.

“So….” She’d tilted her head becomingly at him, pausing when the waitress deposited the obscene “Tower of Chocolate” at their table, two forks resting on either side of the dish that was splattered with chocolate sauce.

He’d smiled in anticipation.

For some reason, it meant a lot to him that she’d been game for sharing such a ridiculously decadent dessert.

It was one thing he’d never done with Pam.  One of the few things that came with no scorching memories.

“Can we talk about the darkness in your eyes, or is that off limits?” She’d asked, the question so direct it had absolutely shocked him – he felt it all the way from his hairline to his feet.

Music in the restaurant taunting.

He hadn’t known what to say to that, so he’d simply chuckled, eyes downcast.

“Okay.” Her voice had been soft, and he could feel her eyes on his face….gentle, understanding.

When he’d dared to look up at her, their eyes had met for a long moment, reminding him for a split second of the intensity he’d felt with Pam – not the same emotion, but the same….transfixion, the same certainty that perhaps they were thinking the same thing.

Without even thinking, he’d asked, “What about yours?”

The words had just slipped out; he hadn’t even realized before – at least, not consciously – that he recognized something in her that he himself felt.

He was shocked when her impeccable façade had cracked a bit – gorgeous blue eyes tearing a bit, one hand raised to her lower lashes, catching the tears before they could fall.

Despite himself, he immediately thought, She’s not like Pam – Pam doesn’t try to stop the tears, just tries to conceal them behind that ineffectual, tiny hand. 

He raised his chin, took a deep gulp from his glass of wine – his fourth – to erase the thought from his head.

No more.

“Off limits, too.” She’d finally managed, her eyes holding his steadily.

He respected her for that – for both her honesty (“off limits” was so unambiguous, honest, unashamed – nothing like I can’t when she so clearly could), as well as for the fact that she’d been brave enough to just be blunt with him, no matter how uncomfortable it made them both for that moment.

He’d nodded, only once – understanding that to give it too much air time would have been disrespectful somehow.  And she’d been so great about letting his distance slide, not pushing him, even though he knew she had to be curious.

He’d never have believed that emotional reticence could breed such intimacy, but somehow it did – or maybe it was just their mutually open reticence.

When he’d walked her to the door of her apartment, he had nothing on his mind other than telling her – sincerely – that he’d had a great evening.

And he did, meeting her eyes, saying quietly, “Really….tonight was great – incredible, actually.  Because….”

He’d looked away, feeling her eyes on his face the whole time.

His lips were twisted as he finished, “Because even though we didn’t talk about the….serious stuff….  I just…..”

His eyes met hers, and he was startled to see something there he’d never seen before – a weakness, almost a crumbling – so he finished, stammering a bit, “It….I, uh….. It makes that….darkness subside a little.”

Even as he watched, something in her eyes seemed to break – amazing to see this even as it’s happening – and he also observed the silent struggle in her: whether to deny it, ignore it, or to give in to him, the man in front of her who was feeling this, too.

The pain, desire, regret, longing….fear.

Wanting – needing – to be lost, too. 

It had been relatively easy to shut out thoughts of Pam when he’d made love to Rachel that night – her body tiny, taught, skin a dazzling mocha, eyes flashing in the dark.

It hadn’t been devoid of emotion, but it hadn’t been complicated by it either; she’d whispered to him between gritted teeth, “Please….do it now; give it to me, please.”

He didn’t care that she’d demanded it that way, didn’t give a damn that she hadn’t said his name – that she may well be thinking of someone else.

Didn’t matter.

Because he was sinking, drowning in her flesh, her nails scraping his back, lips damp against his neck, his chest.

Voice between a gasp and a moan in his ear when she shuddered in his arms.

No, it didn’t matter that he really had nothing to offer her by way of commitment or a future; she hadn’t asked – hadn’t even seemed to be thinking of the possibility.

Didn’t matter that somewhere beneath the heat of her lips, her hands that touched him everywhere – places Pam had never, ever been – he’d felt the chill of a December wind. ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

 ________________________________________________________________________ 

She smiled across the table at him, taking in the beard, the newly chisled face….startled at how amazingly different he looked – utterly devastating – while at the same time, his eyes, dimples, lips remained the same.

But the man underneath, even still, had seemed to change as well. 

For one thing, he’d lost so much weight in the process of training for a triathlon for breast cancer awareness.

His mother had died from the same disease five years before – something he’d never really been willing to talk about – and yet here he sat, blue eyes hopeful, expression both pained and proud.

“I don’t know….” He shook his head, deep in thought. 

All the while, she stared at him, thinking, How did he never show me this side before….?

“There’s something about knowing that I’m….” He’d paused, and to her utter shock, tears had welled in his eyes, clogging his throat.

Jim she’d seen cry many times – Roy, only twice in the ten years they’d been together.

It was merely instinctive to reach out and take his hand as he finished, “……that I’m doing something for her.”

Devastating – he was utterly devastating in his vulnerability, his tears reminding her of someone else, another man who had lain himself bare before her.

Jim.  

She shook her head, but his name wouldn’t leave her head.

Roy’s eyes met hers, his hand squeezing hers – those eyes so bright, dimples adorable….familiar in a way that no other man’s face ever could be.

And there was merit in that….right?

“Pam….” He tilted his head then, gazing across at her in the way that shocked her, because she’d never seen him wear that expression before.

She’d seen that expression many, many times in the past – just never from him.

“I know why you broke it off.”  He was watching her fearfully, as if he expected her to blow up on him again, the way she had when he’d gotten angry at her for breaking their engagement.

She couldn’t speak, felt like she had cotton in her mouth.

…..Knew on some instinctive level that she needed to ward him off, because really, she had nothing to give to him right now.

Later, maybe – but now….? 

"And I want you to know….” He went on, studying his hands for a second, then bravely raising his eyes to hers.

“…..That I’ll do anything – anything – to make this right.” He swallowed hard, finishing with, “To win you back.”

Her head bowed immediately; she knew instinctively that there was nothing he could do to win her back.

Not completely anyway.

And then she was frustrated with herself for being stupid.

Jim got impatient; he left, gave up – Roy is the man who deserves you.  

She staunchly ignored the voice in her head that questioned the merit in basing her decision on what a man deserved from her, rather than on what she herself truly wanted.

Her eyes raised to Roy’s.

She was again caught off guard by how open his expression was….at how desperately he seemed to want to make this right.

She let him take her hand, felt him squeeze it.

“Babe….” It was a soft whisper. “We’re gonna get through this.”

Again, the intensity in his eyes – the sincerity – reminded her of Jim.

When she felt his bare chest flattening her breasts an hour later, her face buried in the crook between his shoulder and neck, she told herself that this was happening because it was right.

Because he hadn’t left her.

But it didn’t feel right, not even for a glimmer of a moment.  When it was over, even though he’d been so great – tender, so careful with her, holding her tightly as she cried against his chest – she’d known instantly that this was a mistake.

_________________________________________________________

She stood between Michael and Dwight on the elevator, distracted, her eyes on the floor.

Even though she knew she had absolutely no reason to be here at the convention with them, it had been a relief.

….Not just to get her mind off of the thoughts that plagued her constantly, but to give her some breathing room.

Roy had been, ironically, incredibly clingy lately; she’d apparently made a grave mistake in sleeping with him three weeks before when she’d finally agreed to let him take her out to dinner.

It had been stupid, base, impulsive, inexcusable.

Just ridiculous.  At least she hadn’t let it happen again after that – although her resistance only seemed to fuel Roy’s desperation to win her back.

She’d have upbraided herself inwardly, asking, What the hell were you thinking?....but she knew better.

Or rather, she knew the answer to that question.

When the doors opened, she clutched her notepad to her chest, scanning the room immediately for spare, deserted corners to which she might disappear and sketch.

And then her eyes had immediately rested on him – him.