____
Of course he’d heard that the wedding was off.
He heard it was canceled mere minutes after Pam had called Michael to let him know he was suddenly free on Saturday. Michael had been hesitant…they weren’t really on solid terms since the surprise of Jim’s transfer and the betrayal it implied. But he’d said, in a rare moment of quiet sincerity, that he’d just gotten off the phone with her, that he could hear her tears, and that for some reason his first and only thought was that Jim should know.
While Michael Scott was a few things Jim was less than thrilled about, he could at least appreciate that the man was a romantic. And loyal, even if you didn’t always want or deserve it.
Of course, since he’d heard the wedding was off, he’d canceled his trip to Australia.
He’d unpacked his bags. He’d tried to get a refund from the airline and made calls on all his hotel reservations. Because certainly this was a sign, certainly this meant she’d changed her mind. And soon she would be letting him know, so it was important to be in the country for that.
But a week passed, June 8th and June 10th slipping by. And he’d gotten calls from a number of his old Scranton workmates.
Kevin. Phyllis. Kelly. Even a surprise email from Dwight.
But the one he really wanted to hear from didn’t call or write or show up at his door. And as one week turned into two, into three, without any word, he felt the hope melt away, he felt his spirits deflate, he felt resignation re-settle in. He felt his heart re-breaking.
Of course.
____
By the end of the summer it was something he didn’t think about…much. Occasionally, he’d get lost staring out his window at the sea and imagine all sorts of reunions playing out like a dream against the water. Tearful apologies, kisses of forgiveness, the passions of making up for lost time. In those moments, when his phone would ring and break the spell he’d find himself drowning in disappointment that it wasn’t her voice on the other end of the line.
But he didn’t let himself hope every time the phone rang, or each time his email chimed. Not anymore.
He thought about dating again. A lot. A pep talk as he got ready each morning, declaring each new day THE day, the start of his life post-Pam.
But each ride home was spent rationalizing that it was too soon, that he could start tomorrow. Because while he wouldn’t let himself wish anymore, he was still okay with wallowing.
____
In the fall, he realized on one random, dreary October Tuesday, that he hadn’t heard from Scranton in weeks. He realized his conversation with Michael was really his last substantial contact, and he was instantly saddened. Of course, he missed more than just the receptionist he’d left behind. They were an odd bunch, but they were his friends. It wasn’t by choice that he’d abandoned everything, the version of himself he knew included.
He emailed Kevin and Toby, searching for a moment of normalcy or a feeling of familiarity to distract him from just how ominous everything out his window looked, everything in his life felt.
Kevin’s enthusiastic recap of an Angela vs. Phyllis dispute and eager invitation into a Fantasty Football league brought the first genuine smile to his face in what felt like months, and Jim’s chest ached with relief when he laughed at Toby’s recounting of the day Dwight received his Gaydar™ in the mail.
But both conversations led back to mentions of Pam eventually. Of course.
Jim tensed at her name, but stubbornly pushed through Kevin’s excited description of some recent low-cut addition to her wardrobe and pretended to ignore Toby’s gushing over her amusing commentary on something else Dwight had done. He focused on the comfort they offered, and changed the subject.
It was a challenge, but he thought it was worth it. He wanted to feel like himself again.
Of course, that was how he found himself calling the Dunder Mifflin Scranton Branch Thursday evening, ready to leave a message for Kevin.
And then he heard her voice.
“Oh my God.”
Of course she would be surprised he was calling.
And, of course he wasn’t surprised by how quickly he was back to aching and longing and hanging on her every word.
Even with the awkwardness of their goodbyes, his chest tightening with disappointment and fear and the knowledge that this could be the last time they ever spoke, there was an unexpected lightness in his head. Like he’d had too much drink, or too little air, or a reminder of why he’d been miserable for years. Or a reminder of why she’d always been worth it.
Of course, the next day he woke up pained and devastated. How could she laugh like that, how could she make him feel like that, if there wasn’t more there? If there wasn’t everything between them?
And that was why his morning dose of “you’ve got to move on” felt a little realer, seemed a little truer. That was why he talked a little more to Karen at the office and smiled confidently at the cute, blonde bar tender when he forced himself to go grab a drink with Josh after hours.
He spent the whole weekend out and meeting new people. Charming them, as he smiled and laughed and deadpanned comically with his naturally flawless timing and easy delivery. And he knew it was the right thing to do.
But, of course, that really didn’t make him feel any better.
Monday morning he was exhausted from pretending. And he couldn’t be sure, but he may have felt a tear or two mix in with the sting of the shower’s spray against his cheek as he wondered when this would get easier.
Tuesday he woke with a smile because his dream of her had felt so vivid, so real, and then he sat up with angry realization and sent everything from his night stand crashing to the floor in an instant of foreign and overwhelming frustration.
Wednesday, every time he thought her name he swore he hated her. Of course he knew he was lying.
By Thursday, he was rubbed raw and sore and tired inside. By Thursday he was grateful for the company and distraction of staying after hours to run reports. Even if Andy was Andy.
And each swallow of the burning liquid felt like a refuge. Each shot blurred the image of her that had been a four-year-long fixture in his mind’s eye. Each gulp that rushed down his throat cast a darker shadow on the loving shrine to her he carried with him everywhere, just behind his eyelids.
And he was so grateful for the peace that he drank and he sang, and he drank some more. And then he dropped his head to his desk to take advantage of the newfound blankness.
Of course, that was when she chose to reach out. The only moment in as many as he’d known her that he wasn’t listening.
____
It was hours later, long after he’d bid Andy goodnight and climbed into the backseat of Karen’s car. Long after he’d passed out on his couch, shoes still on his feet, tie still around his neck. It was then, when he woke to a dry mouth and the pounding of a pre-headache, that he grasped his phone and illuminated the screen to check the time. And he saw her name and “One New Message” instead. It was the first thing he could see completely clearly since around shot number 5.
Of course his heart sped up. His head’s aching dulled and began to spin instead.
He clicked to read it with a trembling thumb and the mantra to not let himself hope for anything.
He didn’t want to expect anything. He didn’t want to wish or to pray. He didn’t want to believe she was stronger than she’d seemed, or braver than he knew her to actually be.
He told himself it didn’t mean anything.
But of course it did. It meant everything.
And as always, she’d found another way to take his breath away.
“I lied. I’m not fine with my choices.”
He still didn’t know the time when he dialed. All he knew was that the sun was too bright for his eyes but this was the most beautiful day he’d ever known. All he knew was that he needed her to answer, now.
He heard her “hello” – groggy and full of sleepy, breathy holes.
“I got your message.”
Through just her sharp intake of air and the following pregnant pause he heard a million thoughts race through her pretty head. He could have sworn at least one of them mentioned love.
“I meant it,” she said. And then, “Can you forgive me?”
His response was a sob and a chuckle, an inhale and an exhale. His response was the promise of everything he was and a thank you to every god that has ever been. His response was simple, inevitable, true. “Of course.”
Story Notes:
A short, one-shot AU pieace dealing with Jim's perspective in early Season 3.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Hi. I’m new.
This is a slightly AU take on Jim’s situation at the start of season 3. AU, because the way I wanted Jim to find out about the wedding’s cancelation contradicts the actual Michael/Jim interaction in the Convention. Please forgive me.
I would love feedback. I’ve written a lot of fanfic, but this is my first go at an Office piece and I’m quite nervous. Thanks for reading!
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. No copy infringement is intended.
This is a slightly AU take on Jim’s situation at the start of season 3. AU, because the way I wanted Jim to find out about the wedding’s cancelation contradicts the actual Michael/Jim interaction in the Convention. Please forgive me.
I would love feedback. I’ve written a lot of fanfic, but this is my first go at an Office piece and I’m quite nervous. Thanks for reading!
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. No copy infringement is intended.
Coffeevixen is the author of 1 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 10 members. Members who liked Of Course also liked 2120 other stories.
