Wind ripples through her hair and fades as she closes the window with wrinkled hands, sweaty palms. Her husband's joke and her laughter are warm in the air, and she takes a deep breath of the sweet sensation, the car slowing into the parking lot. Her heart is pounding, beating out bittersweet melodies. . . .
The woman's name is Pam Halpert. And her husband swears that he didn't run out of gas on purpose. But she doesn't argue with him, because she doesn't mind.
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He stops the car and shoots her a glance, a smirk almost, when she unbuckles. He whispers, "I know," at her and she smiles slowly. She watches the muscles in his back, his shoulders, move and flex as he takes up the gas pump and places it in the car. He smiles at her through the window before coming through the door and whispering, "Want to go up. Buy something?"
"Yeah." She climbs out of the car and blinks, though there's only a tiny amount of sunlight flirting through the heavy clouds. The day is cool, cloudy, and dark, but not rainy, but she can't stand there without seeing torrential streams from the sky; she can't stand there without feeling weak in the knees.
She's standing with her feet balanced on the curb, the water leaking through the soles of her shoes, when Jim arrives. The rain is cold and bites at her heels, but she feels warm at his smile, like a candle in the dark.
He crosses in front of the car and his hand finds hers. It's warm and feels like velvet against hers, every crease that she knows so well like woven bits of thread, a tapestry life and love.
His breath is hot against the back of her hand and her heart flips, the cool of the metal ring, sparkling and bright, making her gasp. Her hand is shaking, but he tugs on it and she meets his eyes. The image is blurred, her eyes misty, but she can feel his smile.
And she chokes and presses her lips to his, the sparks hot against her mouth, the words, "I love you, I love you, I love you," pressed into her until she can't breathe.
She can tell that he's tired by the way his gait shortens and slows, but he still holds out the door for her and smiles like he enjoys doing it. Her heart is heavy in her chest, and she wonders if she's sinking with weight and water and years unraveling at the end of the road. . . . It feels a lot like drowning.
She offers to drive up to Scranton the rest of the way, and he nods
He starts coughing, and she turns to him sharply, her breath caught in her throat. Her hand shakes when she reaches for his, and she whispers, "Are you OK?"
He nods, covering his mouth, and looked at her with his eyes watering. She nods and turns up the edges of her mouth, her thumb still stroking the leather back of his hand carelessly. She pulls her hand back and feels warm again, relief a blessing. But she looks away from his gaze, reaching for a water bottle. His eyes follow her as she slowly heads to the counter.
He's holding her against the pillar, cradling her head in his hands, a promise on his lips. He doesn't have to say it. She can feel it on his tongue, and she whispers it back into the rain as a response.
He grabs her free hand when the exit the station, and she looks up at him. "This was nice," she whispers, leaning closer to him.
His eyes are sad when he turns to her. "I-"
"Don't. Please." She doesn't want to think about cancer or death or last days, so she puts her hand on his shoulder and closes the space between them.
His eyes are shining when he pulls away, but he chuckles. "Should I kneel?"
"Jim."
"I love you too."
He threads his fingers through hers and they walk to the car through the silence.
It still isn't raining. There will be no miracles tonight.
But Pam looks at the sky anyway and wishes, wishes.
When he pulls away he's smiling, and she wraps her arms around him and puts her head on his chest. She can feel his heartbeat, and his heart.
He whispers, "Want to go inside?"
She shakes her head and lets out a deep breath. It comes out rattled, because her eyes are brimming. "No," she tells him. "Let's just stay like this for a while."
He kisses the top of her head and replaces it with his cheek. The sounds, the sensations, him against her . . . sweet sounds, sweet tastes, sweet smells and this sweet feeling in the pit of her soul.
She presses her hand to the glass as she pulls away and can almost see the shadow of her life dancing under the awning. But she turns back to the road and her husband's smile and holds onto the last bit of thread before it breaks. The candle burns hot against her hand, but she likes the warmth it provides.
When he pulls back, his eyes are shining and bright and all the rain around them is gone. She laughs and tucks a bit of hair behind her ear. "Pam Halpert," she says, and bites her lip. Her chest heaves.
His eyes shine for different reasons, and he leans over to kiss her forehead once more. His mouth tingles against her skin when he mumbles, "Halpert," and strokes her cheek with the edge of her thumb. His lips trail downward until they reach her smile, and he gasps, "Beesly," at her.
She closes her eyes and shivers at the sparks against her spine.
When she wakes up, she just knows. She's afraid to look, but she just knows. Because she's waken up next to him for as long as she can remember, and she can sense that he's not there. And he's taken with him her sun and her sky and her world and her hands shake when she wipes her eyes and grips the edges of the blanket.
Her throat burns white hot and a strangled cry escapes.
She can still see his face imprinted on her heart, and he holds it and rocks her until she gradually falls asleep at the lullaby.
His tie drags across her cheek when he leans back to say goodbye for now.
She pulls on it and kisses him quickly and imagines doing it a million times more. For forever.
Story Notes:
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.
Author's Chapter Notes:
I really tried my hand at post-premiere fluff. Um. Then this happened. Please do not throw garbage at me. Please. :(
Also, NanReg is the best cheerleader in the world!
Also, NanReg is the best cheerleader in the world!
Chapter End Notes:
Thoughts? Or are you too mad at me for killing spirits?
I'm sorry. :(
I'm sorry. :(