“Are you kidding me?” Jonathan stared at him incredulously.

“No, I’m not.” Jim was annoyed that his hands were still trembling slightly.

Josh had made the announcement just before noon and had let them all go immediately thereafter, so that those who were less fortunate – who wouldn’t even have jobs post-merger – could begin making other arrangements.

Karen had wanted to go out for a drink, but Jim had gotten out of it, telling her his brother would be in town, that he really needed to spend some quality time with him.

He hadn’t been lying….just left out the fact that Jonathan was coming to visit because Jim was going to call him and beg him to drive the hour and a half and spend the weekend with him.

Because he felt shaken to his very core – shaken and unnerved with the realization that, for all the drastic changes he’d made (and even the little ones, like the kind of sandwiches he ate at lunch), some things hadn’t changed.

At all.

He wouldn’t even let himself think about what he still felt her – as if he didn’t acknowledge it, then it would cease to exist. 

“Wow.” Jon exhaled loudly, shaking his head.  Then his eyes met Jim’s and he asked, “So….?”

“So what?” Jim responded, looking back at him in confusion.

“So….” Jonathan repeated, gesturing with his hands as if to say, and….?

Jim forced a chuckle, saying, “I’m not sure what you expect me to say.”

“C’mon.” Jonathan leveled him with a sober stare. “What are you gonna do about Pam?”

“Nothing.” Jim answered, taking a sip of his beer. “Why would you think there would be something to….do?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?” Jonathan raised an eyebrow at him.

“No, it was a rhetorical question, because clearly you aren’t following me here.” Jim was edgy, and he knew it.  Didn’t want to think about what that signified.

“Then enlighten me….please.” Jon raised his beer bottle at Jim with a slight bow.

Jim shook his head, then his eyes fell to rest on his hands as they cupped the bottom of the dark brown bottle in front of him.  He absently wiped at the condensation on its base with his thumbs as he struggled to find the words.

“There’s nothing…..” He shook his head, took a breath, then tried again. “There’s nothing for me to….do as far as Pam’s concerned.  I mean, I’ve moved on; whatever was there before is….over.”

He could feel Jonathan’s eyes on his face and pretended not to notice.  When Jonathan didn’t speak for several long moments, Jim reluctantly looked up at him, shaking his head and sitting back in frustration at the pointed expression on his brother’s face.

Jon could see that he was pushing his luck, so he said gently, “Listen, man, I’m not trying to….open old wounds or anything.  But I think you’ve got to be realistic about this.”

“Realistic?” Jim’s eyebrows rose, and there was an edge to his voice. “I think I’ve been more than realistic about this – I came clean; she rejected me -- twice.  I left – left, Jon.  Uprooted my life; moved damn near three hours away.  So don’t tell me I need to be realistic.”

Jonathan watched him closely, recognizing immediately the fear that lay beneath the surface of Jim’s defensiveness.

“Listen…” Jonathan’s voice was cautious. “I didn’t mean to imply that you’re not – that you haven’t handled this whole thing amazingly well.  Because you have.  But seriously, don’t you question the….significance in the fact that you transferred because you felt like you had to move on, and now you’re being transferred back?”

“What are you getting at?” Jim asked impatiently.

Jon shrugged, his lips pursed, then, “I don’t know….maybe it’s fate?”

Jim looked away immediately, not speaking for several long seconds.  When he looked back at Jonathan, there was something splintered in his eyes – something resigned but not healed; something wistful but deeply disillusioned.

Slightly damaged.

“No, I don’t believe that.”  Jim’s voice was flat. “It’s not fate; it’s sales.  Michael sealed the deal with Hammermill, and that sent the Scranton branch’s profits well above our first quarter numbers.  That’s it.  Not fate, but numbers. Profits. Tangible stuff.”

Jonathan nodded, then, “But aren’t you even remotely….curious about how it’s going to be with Pam when you go back?”

Jim’s eyes immediately fell again to the tabletop, eyebrows rising, then he said softly without looking up, “No.  Why should I expect anything?  She’s been single for almost six months – six months – and she clearly isn’t interested in anything with me.” 

“Jim – “

“No, please.” Jim’s teeth were clenched now.  “Seriously….let it go, please.  Because I have.”

As Jonathan nodded, watching him closely, he wondered if Jim would be as adept at denying his feelings for Pam as she had been for so long.

************************************************************************

As soon as Michael had made the announcement that the Stamford branch would be merging with theirs – and that Jim would be transferring back in a week – she’d heard the jostling of the cameraman’s equipment. 

Michael had been ready to give the camera a big victory smile, had looked slightly annoyed when he’d looked over to find Rick zooming in on Pam’s face.

“Excuse me.” She said under her breath, standing and making her way to the ladies’ room, not daring to breathe until the door closed behind her.

She stood for a long time in front of the mirror, head bowed, hands gripping either side of the white porcelain sink so tightly that her knuckles went yellow.  As if clinging to a mantra, she thought to herself over and over, Just breathe… 

When she raised her eyes, she caught her reflection in the mirror, and suddenly she saw something very different in her expression – as if she were seeing herself for the first time in six months, much like Jim would be when he finally walked back into her life. 

Surely he’d see the visible difference now – that she was braver, stronger….independent in a way she’d never been as long as he’d known her.

Now she took art classes twice a week, shared her work with the class, stood up under constructive criticism, flushed beneath her classmates’ copious praise; now she went home to the space she’d carved out for herself – a feminine haven in soft mauves and pinks, candles scattered about, her sketches in frames on the walls.

Now she allowed herself to think about him, no matter how much it hurt; didn’t censor her thoughts or cloak them in the guise of “just friends.”  

Now they weren’t best friends anymore because she’d blown it six months earlier so badly that neither of them could’ve picked up the pieces – at least, he couldn’t have.  And she understood that – respected it.

Now he was the man she wanted most to be with, and she knew that, lived with it instead of repressing it.

Let the longing and the sadness become as much a part of her as he was.

************************************************************************

They’d been emailing and IM’ing one another for a few months now, she having broken the ice by sending him a carefully worded, light-hearted message about something stupid Dwight had done.  He’d responded with a friendly, innocuous, frustratingly….distant  email.

She read it five times in as many minutes, searching for subtext, hidden meaning….wasn’t able to find any evidence that his feelings for her still lingered; she didn’t discern a hint of anything other than a platonic affinity in the emails and IMs that followed.

He’d clearly moved on. 

The fact that he could handle communicating with her told her that he’d very obviously moved past it….because if he hadn’t, he would have struggled with the fact that they’d re-opened the lines of communication.  She knew this only because she was eaten alive by the questions, the fears, the regrets….deconstructing his every sentence, searching in vain for some clue that he still felt it.

And there just didn’t seem to be anything there.