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Story Notes:
Just a little nostalgia for us all. Who doesn't love angsty Jim and Pam?
Author's Chapter Notes:
I do not own these characters, this episode, this setting, or have any affiliation with The Office. I could only be so lucky...
"Damn, lost another file. Going to have to reboot. Again." You smile, loving what's coming next. Your computer plays that annoying little noise (more annoying now due to the fact that you've heard it about ten thousand times in the past few weeks), and you hold up your little tin of mints. "Dwight, do you want an Altoid?"

Your moonfaced desk mate looks up at you, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. Ah, you think. The famous...or infamous? "I hate Jim" face. Awesome. Even though the contempt your coworker has for you is clearly etched across his features, he holds out his hand. "What do you think?"

You just smile, letting him take mint. Wow. Next time, I'll see if he does it on his own. Man, it'd be such a let down if it didn't work, after all this preparation. I wonder if I can get Pa-no. Ugh. You hate that you still think of her when you're planning a prank on Dwight. You hate that you catch yourself looking over your shoulder more often than not, trying to get a glimpse of her. You hate that whenever you do look, she's almost always looking back at you, and that she had an adorable way of ducking her head down to avoid meeting your eyes. Most of all, though, you hate that you don't really hate any of that. You especially hate that you only felt a little guilty about the fact that whenever Karen asks you what you're thinking about, you reply with:

"Oh, nothing. Nothing important, anyway."

But that was a lie. She's the most important thing in your life, in the world. Yeah, you and Karen had talked it out, sorted everything through. As far as she knew, your feelings for Pam were long gone. You're kind of perversely proud that you're able to keep up such a good front, such a good lie.

You still love Pam. It's a burn, an ache, and it's killing you.

The worst part of it was that she knows. At least, you hope she does. You think she does. You'd be devastated if she didn't. Does she really think that after everything we've been through....after everything we've shared, all the times we've laughed, the times we've cried...well, the times that she's cried and the one time I have... You shake your head. Memories of that night are always in the back of your mind, and while you like to think about the way her lips felt on yours, you don't like to remember the rest. After everything, all those years...does she really think that everything I felt for her is just...just gone?

You realize then that Karen is looking at you. Shit, you think. I hope I don't look depressed or anything. You smile and wink at her, and she grins, looking satisfied. She bends her head back to her work, and you can't help it--you turn your head slightly, hoping to catch Pam looking at you.

She is. She ducks her head down behind the counter top, a delicious pink blush rising up to stain the tiny bit of her forehead that's still visible.

You want to get up, walk over there, and just kiss the hell out of her. Take her away, anywhere, somewhere away from the office and from Karen and from everything that keeps making it so wrong for the two of you. But you don't, and you know that you never will. You've already made the first move, and the ball was in her court now.

God, you think. She's so fucking frustrating sometimes. Why couldn't she have at least emailed me, sent me a text message, something? Something to just say, 'Hey, Jim, I called off my wedding. It might be because of you.' She had every opportunity in the world to say something that one night that we talked...and she didn't. It wasn't hard to convince yourself that she didn't care. Now, your mind just swims with everything you could have been with her, had with her...all the possibilities. They're the elephant in the room.

Actually, make that elephants.

The clock says 9:42 AM. It's going to be a long, long, day.

That evening you pick Karen up for Phyllis' wedding. She looks beautiful, professional, sexy--just like always. And just like always, you find yourself longing for a striped button down, paired with sensible flat shoes, and curly brown hair pulled half back. Karen talks about how much she loves weddings, how much she loves receptions (you think about how much you love the receptionist), how she can't wait to hear Kevin's band. You just nod, grateful that you don't have to talk. Talking to Karen always reminds you that you're not talking to Pam.

On the way in, you can't help but to look for her. You don't see her, and immediately think: Shit. What if she's not coming? But that's stupid, of course she'll come. You want to scream, but you don't. Instead, you chit-chat with Stanley about wedding presents.

Karen continues to talk once you make it inside, commenting on the flowers. She asks you what 'P & R' stands for, and you tell her Phyllis and Robert. You realize that it also stands for Pamela and Roy, and you thank God you're not at that wedding.

Then you see her. She's standing ahead of you in line, wearing a brown dress that's hugging her curves in a way that makes you feel like it's doing that just to drive you crazy. Her hair isn't as curly as it usually is, but softer and fuller. It's longer that way, and you have a desire to push through the line and touch it, smell it, run your fingers through it. Fruit? Coconut? No, too plain. Strawberries? No, that's Karen. Flowers. Yeah, I bet her hair smells like flowers. Lavender, maybe jasmine. She turns her head down and to the side, sticking an ankle out to as though to inspect it. Your heart breaks. The line of her leg, the curve of her waist (God, she's so impossibly tiny) and her face...she's just too fucking beautiful.

You realize that Pam has seen you; she's waving at you, and Karen's waving back. You raise a hand and crook two fingers in her direction--you're still too stunned to give a full wave, and she looks disappointed. You wonder if it's because of you.

After the ceremony, Karen drags you to a table in the center of the banquet hall. Pam is already sitting, and you want to stop and talk to her, but then you see him. That piece of shit. Who does he think he is, going to sit to her like that? What an asshole. I just can't even believe he has the audacity to talk to her, touch her shoulder, try to make her laugh, try to win her back. That fuck. You want to go on, mentally listing the things you think about and would like to do to Roy, but Karen is talking about something, and you don't want to seem rude.

You finally get your chance to talk to her at the bar. You notice again how her dress hugs her waist, her hips, and it's all you can do to not stare.

"Hey."

"Hey!"

"When are we going to get to see some of those famous Beesly dance moves?"

She blushes, and you can see that it starts at her collarbone and ends at her hairline. It's endearing, adorable, lovely. "Oh...I'm pacing myself."

"C'mon. Get out there! Give the people what they want!"

She smiles; you want to kiss her. "No. I'm such a dorky dancer."

"I know. It's very cute." You don't know why you said it, but you did, and now you have to walk away. You know that since you've said cute, you won't stop until you've exhausted every adjective you can think of that describes her. Beautiful. Intelligent. Talented. Caring. Sexy. Wonderful. Funny. Perfect.

The cameras catch up with you, asking you about Pam. They must have seen everything, heard everything. Careful, Jim, big brother is watching.

"Jim? If you thought Pam was interested?"

You sigh. You should tell them that you're happy with Karen, that you really like Karen, but you don't. "Hypothetically, if I thought Pam was interested, then...no. It's totally hypothetical."

You get back to your table, and Karen wants to dance. You don't really feel like it, but you let her drag you on to the dance floor. You recognize the cheesy 80s pop synthesizer beat, but you can't place the song. You're not really paying attention to the lyrics, but then you hear the chorus:

I'll get over you, I know I will
I'll pretend my ship's not sinking
And I'll tell myself I'm over you, cause I'm the king of wishful thinking
I am the king of wishful thinking
I refuse to give into my blues
That's not how it's going to be
And I deny the tears in my eyes
I don't want to let you see...no
That you have made a hole in my heart
And now I've got to fool myself
I'll get over you, I know I will
I'll pretend my ship's not sinking
And I'll tell myself I'm over you, cause I'm the king of wishful thinking


You want to burst with the irony of it, the ache of it, the sheer perfection of it. You stop dancing, partly because you feel like your head is going to explode, but mostly because you can see Pam across the room, dancing her dorky dance moves that she wouldn't do for you. And she's with Roy.

The song ends, and Karen is breathless. She grabs on to your arm, to laugh or ask you something, and it feels like a death grip. You force a smile, and she asks if you feel okay. You shake your head no, but you don't even really hear her question. You're shaking your head because you see Roy handing Pam her coat, and they're leaving together.

Karen has run up to the stage and is singing another wildly appropriate song, one about how every little thing Pam does is magic and how you know your love for her will go on.

You want to die. You want to do nothing but curl up into a ball and die, right there on the floor. You don't care about Karen, you don't care about Phyllis getting married, you don't care about anything. You want to do something, show some emotion, but you're frozen. Your legs have turned into lead and your stomach now seems to live in your feet; your voice is lost in somewhere in your chest and you can't get out the scream that's resounding in your mind: Stop, Pam, please, don't do this to me. Don't go with him. Go with me. I love you, I love you, I still love you.

"I don't feel good. I have to go home." Karen is asking if you want her to go with you, but you shake your head no. You just want to be alone. You'll call her tomorrow, you say, and you leave her looking sad. You can't care about it right now.

You see the cameraman before you leave. He's asking you a question, but you don't give him the time to get it out. "Here's a not hypothetical. I'm really happy I'm with Karen."

You've never lied to the camera before.

Typically, you're not much of a crier, but tonight? You can't help it.
Chapter End Notes:
I really like the idea of being in someone's head during all of this, and am thinking about continuing on with Pam and Karen's POVs as well. Please let me know what you think-I work best when I know there's somebody out there reading my work and enjoying it!

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