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Author's Chapter Notes:
This one was harder than I expected it to be. I hope I did it justice.
__________


Pam strolls across the parking lot with a smile on her face. It’s been a great day. It’s been a great week, actually. Roy has been nothing but sweet and attentive and has even sat with her at the kitchen table as she puts the finishing touches on their wedding—coming up in just a few short weeks! The wedding bills have miraculously been paid (with a little help from her parents) and her mom has been working diligently on silk flower bouquets and over the weekend, she and Roy are headed over to the VA hall so they can finalize where the tables will go and how many fairy lights they can hang and all the little details that still need to get taken care of. It’s exhilarating, being so close to the day she’s been anticipating for the past three years.

And things at work have just been great. She was worried that there’d be awkwardness after Jim admitted to complaining about her, but things had immediately gone right back to normal. If anything, they were goofing around more now. They’ve spent the week laughing and messing around with Dwight and even a little (maybe intentional but definitely harmless) flirting, which has been fun. Nothing has been able to get her down, not Angela’s disapproving looks or Michael’s inappropriate comments or Dwight’s indignation at whatever joke they’re pulling. She’s just been too happy.

Today, especially. She had initially been a little annoyed that Roy hadn’t decided on a band, but he’d been so helpful with everything else that she let it slide. It was just that the prospect of watching a dozen wedding band videos was not her idea of a good time. But Jim had come to her rescue, watching and laughing and reveling in the discovery of “Scrantonicity.” She can’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much.

So as she heads across the lot towards Roy’s truck, she feels happy and bouncy and light and good, like she could just float away. And she’s not even bothered by the fact that she has to come back to work on a Friday night. She’s actually excited about the casino fundraiser. And if anything, it’s excuse to take some extra time on her hair and wear the pretty blue dress that’s been hiding in the back of the closet and just have a good time. It seems like she so rarely has the opportunity to do that.

“You seem like you’re in a good mood,” Roy comments as he starts the truck.

“Yeah,” she says, smiling. “It was a good day.”

“Good.” They turn out of the parking lot and Roy relaxes in the driver's seat, one hand on the steering wheel and the other reaching the other over to rest on Pam’s thigh. He used to do that when they first started dating, she remembers. It always made him seem so confident, so happy. She leans her head against the seat and smiles over at him. He glances over and smiles back. “Hey, babe, listen. I’m sorry I never watched those videos.”

“It’s okay. I watched them today.”

“Yeah? Anything good?”

She shrugs. “Kevin is in one of them, actually. He’s the drummer and the singer.”

Roy gives that some consideration. “Big Kev from upstairs? Nice. I’ll have to watch that when we get home.”

Pam covers his hand with her own and gives it a squeeze. “Sounds good. As long as we’re not late for the casino night.”

__________


Jim makes his way a little hurriedly across the parking lot, towards the warehouse. He’s a late, he knows, because he recognizes most of the cars in the lot as those of his coworkers, including Roy’s little green truck, the same one he saw Pam ride away in just a few hours before. His heart thumps a little harder at the thought of seeing her, just like always.

It hurts a little more this time, though, because he knows it’s likely the last time he’ll see her outside of work, even though they’ll technically be at work. Not to be overly dramatic or anything, but he knows that this will be the last time he sees her freed from the confines of the reception desk and out from under the thumb of Dunder Mifflin and everything that comes with it. Because after next week, he’s gone, and then he won’t see her anymore at all.

She doesn’t know it yet, though, and that only amplifies the hurt. Jim knows that she won’t be able to see it for what it is—self preservation—and that it’ll likely come across like...like he’s abandoning her, or something. Because honestly, that’s kind of what it feels like to him.

Which is stupid, of course. He’s not abandoning her, he’s just starting a new chapter of his life that coincidentally doesn’t feature her as a starring player. She’ll always be there, of course, because she’s been so pivotal in shaping him into the person that he is, but she just won’t be front and center anymore. And she’s first and foremost his best friend, so maybe (hopefully) she’ll be happy that he’s gotten a promotion and won’t feel like he’s deserting her. And anyway, can you even call it desertion or abandonment when the person you’re leaving behind is getting married in less than a month?

She probably won’t even give him a second thought after he’s gone.

He immediately chastises himself, because he knows her better than that. Of course she’ll be sad to see him go, and that thought alone is enough to stop him in his tracks halfway across the parking lot and reconsider for about the thirtieth time since Jan had called that afternoon to tell him that the position was his. Once he leaves, who in the office will she talk to? They’re both friendly with some of the documentary crew, but when the cameras are rolling there’s supposed to be limited contact. So who will hear the jokes she makes under her breath, or appreciate her expertise in Michael wrangling, or be her sounding board when she needs one? Who will she confide in or laugh with or share her lunches with or show her art to?

It’s almost enough to make him stay. Almost, but not quite. Because at the end of the day, even when she doesn’t have him, she’ll have him—Roy. Her soon to be husband. The man that should have been all those things in the first place, so much so that there never even should have been a role for him to fill.

He can’t explore that line of thinking, though, not again. It never leads anywhere good and when he finally snaps himself out of it, the ache in his chest is always a little sharper. He’s done comparing himself to Roy, building himself up in his head to be the better match for Pam and entertaining grand notions of sweeping her off her feet and into the sunset. Because even though he can’t begin to understand what Pam sees in Roy, she obviously sees something and who is he to even attempt to come between them? Pam’s excited and happy and getting her happy ending.

Jim wants that too, so as he crosses the rest of the parking lot, he tells himself that he’s doing what needs to be done. The only ending here for him in Scranton is a miserable one.

Still. Telling her is really going to suck.

__________


“You sure you can’t stay a little longer? It’s been such a fun night.”

“I know, but I don’t think so. We had a long day today. Plus I got that thing with Kenny tomorrow morning, early. Sorry, babe, I am just beat.”

“It’s okay. I’ll see you at home.”

“Okay. Hey, don’t try to lose too much money, alright-”

“Okay.”

“-cause you still wanna go on a honeymoon.” Pam laughs because it’s funny, because Roy is so sweet and earnest when he jokes around and she likes him like that. Right now she likes everything--the way her blue dress shifts against her skin, the way her hair brushes along her upper back, the floaty feeling that she can contribute to one and a half glasses of white wine and the fun she’d had at the poker table, Jim accepting his defeat gracefully. A smile has been plastered on her face for most of the night and she feels like nothing can chase it away. She likes that, too.

Jim walks by and she has just enough time to register that he’s walking away from the warehouse--he can’t be leaving already, can he?--before Roy spots him, too, and calls out. “Hey, Halpert. Keep an eye on her, all right?”

“Okay. Will do.” Pam’s heart swells to bursting when she hears that. She feels so indescribably lucky to have them both; two of the most important men in her life, the two that she can trust to always be looking out for her.

Roy puts the truck in gear and waves. His see ya is carried away from her on the wind, but she calls “bye!” after him anyway, even if he can’t hear it as he drives out of the parking lot. Before his tail lights turn past the corner of the fence, she’s walking towards Jim. The smile on her face feels even more permanent as she looks at him, ready for his next joke or quip or anything, really. “Hey.”

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Good.” She grins up at him because she can’t help it. The lightness of her heart has spread so that she can feel happiness bubbling throughout her bloodstream. It makes her arms swing and her body sway and her voice tease as she says “especially after I took all your money in poker.”

Jim laughs, but not as much as she would have liked for him to. He sounds nervous, stilted almost, when he says “yeah, um…” and she realizes then that he’s not looking at her. The high she’s been on all night--all day, all week--falters a little. “Hey. Can I talk to you about something?” His voice is thick, like maybe he’s had too much to drink, and when he finally does look at her, it doesn’t really feel like he’s looking at her. A nervousness steals over her for a second or two, but she chases it away with a joke.

“About when you wanna give me more of your money?”

“No, I--”

“Did you wanna do that now? We can go inside. I’m feelin’ kinda good tonight.” Her brain is a little slow, fogged by the buoyant cheerfulness she feels more than the wine she’s had, and she only realizes that he’s said no after she stops talking. The nervousness rushes back, more consuming this time, and the parking lot suddenly feels heavy and serious and claustrophobic. Jim’s not smiling and she’s a little troubled to find that she can’t read his expression. It’s happened before, sure, but this time is different because it’s the first time she can’t get a read on him at all. She feels her own smile fall off her face and her hands still, and before he speaks again she has a fleeting thought that whatever it is he’s about to say is going to change things forever.

“I just...I’m in love with you.”

She’s not sure she heard him correctly. In fact, she knows that she didn’t. She couldn’t have, because she knows Jim, knows he wouldn’t do that to her. She says the only thing that makes sense, hoping against hope that he’ll say something else when she asks “what?” because if he said what she thinks he did, her entire world will start shattering into a thousand tiny pieces and she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to put them back together. And even if she does find a way to reassemble them, she knows that they won’t be the same.

He’s talking again, saying something other than the five words that have turned her world upside down, and she wrenches herself out of her thoughts enough to hear him apologize, to hear him say something about “needed you to hear it” and “not good timing” and she doesn’t know what to say. Usually she looks to Jim for answers when she’s at a loss for words, so what is she supposed to do when it’s Jim that leaves her speechless? What is he doing to her?

When she thinks that, she knows she wants it answered. “What are you doing?” He gives her a look that very clearly says you know what I’m doing and it all clicks into place. She knows. It’s so obvious, now, that the expression she could never place before was love. It’s always been love, since pretty much the day they met. She doesn’t know how respond, what to do or think or say. That’s what she wants to tell him, but instead she asks: “What do you expect me to say to that?” It comes out a lot harsher than she intends for it to but it’s out there, hanging in the air between them. The look on his face as he absorbs it makes her heart break.

He drops his gaze to his feet and when he swings his eyes back to hers, they’re so open and he looks so vulnerable and the thousand little pieces that her world has cracked into crack even more. “I just needed you to know. Once.” She recognizes the thickness of his voice as being due to emotion, not drink, and she’s struck by the realization that she’s never heard him like. She knows now that it’s because he’s never let her. That leaves no doubt in her mind that he’s never been as honest as he’s being in this moment. It’s thrilling, a little, to see him like that. Thrilling and terrifying. It makes him magnetic, even more than usual. His eyes hold contact with hers and she feels like she’s being pulled into him, drawn like a moth to a flame or some metaphor equally as damning, because it feels dangerous and tempting and like if she lets herself go, she’ll fall and fall and fall and never be able to climb back out. It’s exciting and new and safe and unfamiliar all at the same time, and that’s terrifying, too.

She drags her eyes away from his steady stare because it’s just too much. She can’t think with him looking at her like that. It’s hard for her to make much sense of the myriad of thoughts racing through her mind, but she tries to give voice to them anyway. It’s hard to speak because her heart is thundering in her ears and threatening to beat straight out of her chest and her stomach feels like lead and it’s almost painful to take the breath she needs to say whatever it is she’s going to say. “Well I, um...I…” Her fingers wring together and she’s acutely aware of the fact that she’s trying as hard as she can not twist her engagement ring, her usual nervous habit. She doesn’t know what that means. He’s looking at her, his eyes dark and liquid and she can’t catch her breath, she thinks she might hyperventilate because—“ I can’t?” It comes out like a question or maybe a plea, as thought she’s not even sure of it herself, but as the words disappear into the air she realizes that she’s telling him the truth.

She can’t, because she’s getting married in less than a month and it would destroy Roy, not to mention both of their families. She can’t, because so much time and money has been spent on a wedding that had been hanging in limbo for three years and now they’re past the point of no return. She can’t, because she doesn’t know how to be Pam independent of Pam and Roy, because that’s what she’s known for more than a decade. She just can’t. She doesn’t know how.

Not once does it occur to her that the reasons that she can’t don’t have anything to do with how she feels for Jim.

All he says is “yeah,” like her answer is what he expected, and his eyes drop to the ground.

Her mouth is dry and her arms are shaking and she doesn’t know what else there is to say, but she feels like she has to say something. “You have no idea-”

He jerks his head back up, almost angrily. “Don’t do that.” He knows her so well, she thinks, he knew what she was going to say before she did.

“-what your friendship means to me.”

“Come on. I don’t wanna do that. I wanna be more than that.” He says it like it’s so simple, and maybe it would be. But—

“I can’t.” She sounds more sure of herself this time, so she stops herself from adding because I don’t know how. Knowing Jim, he’d take her hand and show her how and a (huge) part of her thrills at the idea of that, but she’s planned her life with someone else and those plans are set in stone. So she struggles to find a way to make it all go back to how it was before he said what he said, a way to fix the huge fractured chasm that’s between the two of them now. “I’m really sorry if you misinterpreted things” aren’t the right words but she says them anyway. They’re followed by “it’s probably my fault” and she wishes she could rewind and take back the “probably” because it’s definitely all her fault.

But as she watches tears brimming in his eyes, even as one betrays him and starts to slip down his cheek, he shakes his head no. “Not your fault.” Her hand twitches with the overwhelming desire to wipe away the tear that’s tracing a shining path across his face but he beats her to it. She never really had the right to do something like that, anyway...and especially not now. That realization hurts, almost as much as hearing him say “I’m sorry I misinterpreted our friendship.”

Because as he leaves her standing there in the middle of the parking lot and the events of the last few minutes sink into place, the tiniest pinprick of a thought wedges itself in her brain: he didn’t misinterpret anything.

But she’s made a promise to Roy, and it’s one that she intends to keep. She just—she needs...a lot of things. She just doesn’t know what any of them are.

__________


From across the street, Jim watches through slightly blurred vision as Pam stands in the parking lot for a few moments longer. She stays so still that he begins to worry about her, and it’s so typical. Even after breaking his heart, he’s still more concerned with her well being than his.

But that’s not fair, really. He meant what he said. It’s not her fault. He knew from the beginning that she was engaged. He’s the one to blame for the hurt he knows they both feel, because he’s the one that dug the hole so deep that it became impossible to climb back out. So yes, his heart is broken, but it’s not her fault—it’s his.

Especially since he never intended to confess his feelings in the first place. He’d had it all planned out, too: “Jan approached me about a position in Stamford. I’m putting my two weeks notice in with this branch on Monday.” Short and simple and to the point, because he had been worried that if he tried to say too much that she’d look at him what that sad, surprised look she gets sometimes, like when Roy does something thoughtless or Michael says something even more inappropriate than normal...and if she looked at him like that, he knew that his defenses would break down and he’d start talking himself into staying.

And if he stayed, it would just be delaying the inevitable. His heart, his broken and bruised and battered heart, would fracture beyond repair at the first sight of a second ring on her finger. He’d sink further and further into the hole he’s dug, so much so that he wouldn’t be able to see the sunlight. Every day that he sees her is already like a punch to the gut and he knows that if he stays, that feeling will be accompanied by one that’s a lot like a knife on his chest.

So he’s making the right choice. Especially now, after he’s ruined everything between them. And the thing about is that he never even meant to tell her how he felt, just about his transfer—

His transfer. She still doesn’t know, and she deserves to be told. Maybe he can go back and apologize and explain that he’s getting out of her hair, out of her life, and after next week she won’t have to worry about him ever again. Across the street, she’s walking slowly towards the building and soon has slipped inside, not bothering with the elevator but disappearing into the stairwell. He gives it a few minutes, and then makes his way back across the street.

It takes him a while to get up to the office, because he pauses in the stairwell to try and decide what he’s going to say. I’m sorry and I didn’t mean to and I’m leaving battle with I’m not sorry and I’m glad I did and please give me a reason to stay and none of them sound like the right thing, because they’re all representative of how he feels. It’s true that he didn’t mean to tell her, but when she smiled at him and he came face to face with the fact that he was going to run away and never let her know...how could he not tell her? He needed her to know, needed her to understand the depth of his feelings for her, because he needed to know that he’d done everything he could before turning to his last resort: leaving. He’s sorry that he sprung it on her, but he’s not sorry for telling her. And as for leaving...well, that remains to be seen.

When he steps onto the second floor he still doesn’t have it quite figured out, but he presses on anyway. The main door into the office is propped open and he can hear her voice drifting towards him, and he panics for a moment. Is she talking to the cameras? Is she talking to Roy? There’s not another voice, but he pauses at the entryway to listen. She’s not at her desk, but she still sounds close--his desk, maybe? The thought makes his heart skip a beat.

It becomes clear that she’s on the phone when he hears her say “I don’t know, mom, he’s my best friend.” Hearing her say that bolsters him, and he steps inside the doorway. Her voice sounds small and unsure when she says “yeah, he’s great” and even more so when she says “yeah, I think I am” and he doesn’t know what means but maybe it means something good, and that’s the driving force behind him as he rounds the corner and turns towards her. She is at his desk, perched against it in the way that he loves. There’s barely enough time for her to hang up his phone and turn towards him before he’s leaning towards her, because he knows now that there’s nothing left to say. He doesn’t wait to hear what’s at the end of her “listen, Jim,” just wraps his arms around her and presses his lips to hers. It’s chaste and simple but it electrifies him.

And then she kisses him back, her hands on his neck and her body against his and he’s sure she can feel his heart beating wildly against hers and he’s on fire. The material of her dress is smooth and cool under his palms, and as he slides them to her waist he realizes just how much of her he can hold at once. Her hands are against his chest, tracing a tingling path across his skin even through two layers of clothing, and when she rests them against his own he doesn’t resist the urge to brush his thumbs against her knuckles. Every inch of her is perfect and he wants to touch them all. The smile on his face absolutely cannot be contained, because she kissed him back. He feels like he should say something, wants to say something, so he settles on the truth. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” His voice sounds low and husky; he can’t decide if it’s due to the physical effect simply holding her has on him or to the lump of emotion in his throat because finally, finally.

She’s looking up at him, her eyes clear and bright underneath her eyelashes. “Me too,” she says, and he wants to shout it from the rooftop. He laughs because he can’t help himself, it feels just as good as if she had said “I’m in love with you, too.” Me too means that there was no misinterpretation, means that maybe she wants more, means that--“I think we’re just drunk.”

“No, I’m not drunk. Are you drunk?” He’s scared to hear her answer, because what will he do if she brushes this off as a drunken mistake?

“No.” Thank god. There’s the hint of a smile on her face and everything seems so full of possibility, he can see his entire future folding out before him as he leans towards her again. He’s close enough to feel her breath against his lips--mere millimeters between them--when she speaks his name.

She sounds scared. He pulls back and her expression changes. Where seconds before she had been looking at him with a sense of clarity--like she was seeing him for the first time--she now looks panicked. He knows immediately what it means, but he has to ask. He has to be sure. “You’re really gonna marry him?” She nods, but she doesn’t have to, because he already knew.

“Okay.” It’s not okay, but what else is there to say? She’s made her choice, and it’s not him. He lingers for a moment, tries as hard as he can to memorize the way her hands feel in his and how perfectly she fit against him and how even the smallest, briefest of kisses with her has been better than anything else. And then he leaves, because he has to.

The tears start to fall as he exits the building into the parking lot. This time, he doesn’t bother to wipe them away.

__________
Chapter End Notes:
Please let me know what you think! Love ya, mean it. See you soon!

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