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Author's Chapter 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 and unfortunately the author does not know John Krasinski personally, dammit. No copyright infringement is intended. Also, my apologies to the great and immortal Jane Austen for shameless plagiarism. 

Saturday came, and Pam spent all day at the mall trying on ski outfits in an effort to find one which didn’t make her look like a puffball.  And then Sunday came and, having given up, she drove to her cousin Mary’s house and borrowed her sensible, sporting suit which had an awful orange flash diagonally across it, but which was practical and cosy and much cheaper than splurging on something she’d clearly only wear once. 

 

And Saturday and Sunday having passed, Monday came around inexorably.  She comforted herself with the thought that it would soon be over.  And it was soon over.  By half-past-nine, the new employees had all arrived at the office.  By ten, Michael’s efforts to have everyone join in his tuneless rendition of Consider Yourself At Home (from the soundtrack to Oliver!) had petered out.  And by ten-past-ten, everyone was piling into cars downstairs heading for the resort. 

 

Pam found herself actually muttering “the worst is over” out loud.  Toby caught her eye and gave her a nervous smile.  He seemed about to say something, so she quickly nodded her head towards Michael and he made some odd movement of his mouth and looked away, so she let herself be pulled by Kelly into Angela’s car.

 

She had seen him.  He was still tall – of course – he was still friendly – also of course.  He was still – Jim.  He had walked in with two of the people from the Stamford office (a brisk-looking brunette woman and a cocky-looking man who walked as if he were two feet taller than he actually was).  He had submitted to Michael’s bear-hug, he had pretended he was hurt by Dwight’s refusal to hug him, he had nudged Ryan’s shoulder and smiled across the room at Phyllis and he had grabbed a jellybean from her desk and bowed his head in thanks at her.  And she had managed to smile back, almost naturally, and during the terrible song she had quickly glanced over at him and they had both rolled their eyes, almost as they used to.  The worst was over.

 

And now, thought Pam, thankfully left to herself for most of the journey as Angela and Meredith bickered, and Kelly sent text messages, it would be easier.  Six months had passed and while it was understandable that the first meeting would be awkward, it was silly to think that things would be as tense as they had been back then.  Anything could happen in six months.  She just hoped that Jim would see that she wanted to make things easy for him, that she regretted her feeble behaviour.  And she wondered what he thought of her.

 

“I’m glad to see that at least some of the Stamford people know how to dress for the office,” Angela said, breaking into her thoughts and, possibly, trying to change the subject from her argument with Meredith.

 

Or possibly not.  “And what is that supposed to mean?” asked Meredith aggressively.

 

“Simply that there is a certain appropriate professional dress code which I am glad to see that Josh’s team have adopted.  The strange man with the musical notes on his tie was not, perhaps, quite in keeping, but otherwise their team seemed suitably attired.  The young woman with the pants suit, for instance, had her hair very smoothly pulled back, which is far more hygienic than leaving half of it down,” said Angela, approvingly nodding at her own strict ponytail in the driving mirror.  “And while I do not endorse pants as necessary for working women, they are certainly preferable to clothes which could double as hooker wear.”

 

Kelly looked up from her phone to look indignant, her girlish flouncy skirt hardly standard streetwalker issue.  And Pam pulled uneasily at her soft scoop-necked sweater and wondering if perhaps she had overdone it by putting on, at the last minute, one of the faintly sexier new tops she had bought recently. 

 

“I don’t think they sell hooker wear at Urban Outfitters,” Kelly said, with one of her rare moments of sarcasm – they had recently found a bag from that store hidden in the Tampax disposal unit in the ladies’ room, moments after Angela had emerged ostentatiously toting a carrier from Sears. 

 

The back of Angela’s neck, behind that tight ponytail, flushed red and she pretended to be carefully studying the road sign ahead which pointed them to Montage Mountain.  Satisfied, Kelly turned to Pam and began to whisper.

 

“Wasn’t it weird seeing all those new people?  Not that they’re all new, of course, I mean, we know Jim.  He seemed just as nice as ever, don’t you think?  I’m so glad he’s back, I’ve got tons of things I want to ask him about Ryan and what he thinks is going on with him.”

 

“Mm,” said Pam, non-committally. 

 

“You know, he came right over and said he felt like he’d never been away.  And Ryan said he knew the feeling, because nothing ever changes here.  But Jim said – ”  She stopped suddenly.

 

“What?” 

 

“Well, he … well, he said that one thing had changed.  He said he would hardly have known you.”

 

Hardly have known me!  This was not good.  Pam swallowed, tried to cover the way her heart had suddenly lurched in her chest as if they were hurtling down the mountain instead of slowly inclining up.  “Oh, I am fancy new Beesly now, though” she said, breezily.

 

“Oh … yeah, definitely!” said Kelly, with just enough of a pause to make it obvious to Pam that that was not at all what Jim had intended.  In fact, Pam understood completely what he had meant: that on seeing her again, in all her ordinariness, her dull receptionist life, he had clearly wondered what on earth he had ever seen in her.  She imagined him thinking, “That?  That’s who I thought I was in love with?  Man … I must have been more bored here than I even remember.”

 

It hurt to think that.  But she was glad she had heard it.  For there was no point entertaining false hopes; it was better to know, right away, and to move on so that they could be friends again.  So it was for the best, right?

 

Jim Halpert had used such words, or something like them, but without thinking that they would be repeated to her.  He should have known, of course, that Kelly rarely had an unexpressed thought, but the re-entry to the Scranton office was not without its awkwardness for him either. 

 

He had not forgiven Pam.  She had used him to entertain her, to deal with issues that she would not, or could not, share with her fiancé.  She had told him that his friendship meant a lot to her – yeah, so much that she didn’t even tell him she cancelled her wedding and he had to hear it from Kevin, from Kevin, for god’s sake.  She had kissed him passionately and told him that she, too, had wanted to do so for a long time – and then she had said she was getting married.  And he was dealing with that and then he heard she hadn’t even done so, throwing him into utter confusion and irresistible hope.  And then she had not contacted him, showing, at worst, that she really didn’t care for him at all – but he couldn’t believe that of her, he couldn’t – and at best, that she had no resolve, no strength of character.  When Jim wanted something, he went for it; it might take him a while, but ultimately, he was prepared to risk embarrassment, rejection, heartbreak, to try to get it.  Pam, clearly, was not. 

 

So, he was over her.  He was sure he was.  And it was simply a sort of reflex action, a leftover habit, that when he saw her, his eyes had kept turning towards her, his whole body perfectly aware of where she was in the room even when he faced away from her.  And his whole mind – while he unthinkingly mouthed niceties and the obligatory digs at Dwight – thinking, there’s something different, something, what, what is it?


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