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Author's Chapter Notes:

Dear MTT-ers.  I lie like a rug.  I said I wouldn't do this and I sat down to check my email tonight and presto.  This is what happened.   Just thought I'd share.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.  The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise.  No copyright infringement is intended.

In Between

It was exactly what she had wanted but what she was convinced would never happen.  The words he spoke, his lips on hers, the amazing, unbelievable feeling of him holding her close.  Safe, treasured, understood.  They fit together like puzzle pieces, two halves forming a whole. 

Deep down she always had known they would.

In the first few moments afterward she tried to think of the right words, but as usual, he’d said them first, and perfectly.

When she’d answered “Me too,” she’d meant it.  She’d been wondering and wanting and waiting for so long and she didn’t think she’d ever know.  She didn’t think she’d ever truly get that close.

She knew that the kiss they shared was much more than just a kiss.  It was a question, the answer to which could only be “I will” or “I won't” and in that moment she was caught smack dab in the middle.

And she’d been too scared to move.

On the one side was Roy, who she’d simply outgrown.  Who had failed, in the weeks after Jim left to make her remember why she’d been so caught up in marrying him – other than because he’d asked her and she’d already said yes and they’d both invested so much time.

It was extremely difficult but it felt good to finally break free, to make the decision to do something after standing still for so long.   But when the smoke cleared and she’d gone back to work it just felt wrong.

And it all hinged on the fact that he was gone.

She missed him every day – she didn’t even try to deny it, except - of course - to the camera.  She would catch herself staring over at Ryan desperate to see Jim back in his place, where he belonged.

In the meantime, Roy changed.  He’d totaled his truck but had recently become serious about adjusting his lifestyle.  She’d seen him at the gym, staring at her from across the room as she cranked the volume up on her portable radio. 

She’d given him back the MP3 player he’d gotten her for Christmas.

She felt badly for hurting him, she truly did.  It was better this way, better to set him free.

He’d make someone very happy someday. 

She just knew it wouldn’t be her.

She now knew it never really had been.

She still had her teapot.  She found herself drinking tea at the oddest of times, in the middle of August when the air conditioning was broken and it was ninety degrees in the shade.  She’d run a finger along the curved handle as it sat beside her and in that briefest of moments,  in the break room with chaos erupting around her she’d feel incredibly close to him.

In her art class her first assignment was to draw an everyday thing, but when she put pencil to paper only one image appeared, no matter how hard she’d tried.  She’d always wind up drawing his eyes, his smile, and the line of his jaw, his hair tousled and curling over his collar.  She drew a series based on only his hands, the way they’d looked under hers, before slowly sliding away. 

Now she’d strain her ears to hear mention of him, which was probably once a day.   It usually happened in passing.  She knew she wasn’t the only one who missed him.  Everyone did, in their own ways.   She could hear it in their voices, see it in their eyes.  They - for the most part - spoke of him with a fondness and looked at her with something akin to pity.  Every time she heard his name soon after her fingers poised over her keyboard, her hands itched to lift the phone.

Even though she’d rather have him here she was proud of him, for being the brave one, for putting himself out there, even if she was too much of a coward to take his hand, hold tight and follow.

She sat at home at night, honestly enjoying so much about her new life.  Her apartment was hers and hers alone.  Everything was just the way she wanted it, decorated exactly to her taste.   

She kept the picture of him from his yearbook in her journal, the one that she’d started the night after she’d left Roy, the pages filled, for the first time, with nothing but truth.  Of how much she’d missed him, of how scared she was, of how she could possibly go about repairing the damage she’d done. 

After dinner she’d sit curled up on her couch and recount all the things she would have said to him had he been sitting across the office from her, how inane Dwight was that day, how badly Michael had mangled something incredibly simple, how Angela seemed to detest her even more now that she’d broken up with Roy.

But the fact remained that each night she’d will the phone to ring, she’d listen for the ding of her email, she’d dream of what it would have been like if she’d taken that frightening step forward, instead of staying stuck in between.



xoxoxo is the author of 67 other stories.



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