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Author's Chapter Notes:
Jim's thoughts and actions before and after Pam comes back.

Jim wasn’t sure what to do with himself when Pam stepped out of the room. What did Jan have to say that was so important that Pam walked out of the room? Why did she walk out right as she started talking about him? Was there something going on he wasn’t supposed to know about?

 

He calmed down the paranoid part of his mind and focused on the annoyed part. Why was Jan interrupting his time with Pam? They were both on vacation, officially—so what if Pam wasn’t actually on her honeymoon (the thought of which still made him cringe) or if he wasn’t actually in Australia? That was none of corporate’s business.

 

Was Pam somehow in trouble for not cancelling her vacation when she cancelled her marriage? What a dick move. But more importantly, if that was the case, she was going to be really upset when she walked through that door. He needed to do something for her. Something to make her happy again, because she deserved it.

 

He knew just the thing.

 

Fortunately, they had put his carry-on bag where he could reach it, just on the little table next to his bed on the other side from Pam. He assumed that they thought he might need something out of it, or maybe it was just intended to be some kind of homey touch in case Larissa and Pam hadn’t come by with all his wall art. Either way, it was sitting right there, where he could reach it now without violating doctor’s orders. Maybe he’d been clutching it when they pulled him out of the crash he still couldn’t fully remember. Or maybe someone had reunited it with him later, which might explain why it wasn’t in the closet where he vaguely remembered someone telling him the clothes they’d taken him out of were stored. What mattered most was it was there.

 

Now to find out if it was complete.

 

He pulled the bag over into his lap, careful not to engage his core muscles too much and pull on his ribcage, or to let the bag hit him in the broken ribs. He rustled around inside it and pulled out a small, white rectangle, with the name “Pam” written across it in his own somewhat shaky handwriting. It looked beaten up—but then again, it had looked a little beaten up when he’d first put it in the bag, having traveled from a box to his pocket to his dresser drawer underneath the socks. He’d been bringing it to Australia to burn—somewhere on the beaches by Sydney, he’d figured, there’d be a place he could go on June 10 (or maybe June 11—like his parents, he realized, he was a little fuzzy on time zones in Australia) and have his own little ceremony while Pam was having hers. A de-commitment ceremony, if you will, where he tried his best to untether himself from her while she tethered herself to another man. Burning this card had been the centerpiece of what little of that ceremony he’d actually allowed himself to sketch out, and so he’d put it in the bag at the last minute before his flight. Now he wondered if some higher power had compelled him to put it in so he could use it in an utter different way. He’d have to ask Angela about it. Although she’d be just as likely to tell him a heathen like him had no chance of receiving beneficence from God as to tell him he was right (and should therefore seek out a Sunday service to give thanks).

 

He propped up the card next to Pam’s sketch and put the bag back on the little table. Now all he could do was wait and find the right opportunity to give it to her, before whatever Jan said could upset her too much.

 

Pam bounced through the door, which he had distinctly not expected. She was excited, he could see, and her eyes burned with an expression he was unclear how to interpret. She looked…worried? Excited? He realized where he’d seen this before: she’d looked just like this, but not at him, each time she’d had to pitch an opportunity to Roy. Something was up, and she didn’t know what he’d think of it, and she was preparing herself for disappointment while still feeling the initial excitement at the same time.

 

He was really glad he had the card out now.

 

He paid careful attention to what she said—recognizing the expression as one she’d directed at Roy made him especially aware of the need to act, well, like not-Roy, and that meant paying attention to her—and when she got to the part about Dunder Mifflin paying for her to live in New York for a year it was all he could do not to get up and swing her into one of those old-timey, World-War-II victory dips. He settled for grinning broadly and saying “that’s great. I always knew you could do it, Beesly.” The answering smile he got was almost as good as the news itself.

 

He cleared his throat. “You realize Stamford is only 45 minutes from downtown New York on the commuter line.”

 

She nodded, maybe a little too vigorously, and he noticed her hands fiddling with her phone.

 

“Um, tell me if this is being stupid, or if you don’t want to do this, but that means we could see each other, like, every day if we wanted, right?”

 

If he thought the smile when he told her he was proud of her was big, this one was galactic.

 

“And, um…” he coughed, “you did mention you were willing to help me look for an apartment…”

 

Her face fell a little, and he realized what it must be. She’d just moved into a new apartment, a new space all her own for the first time. She thought he was proposing they move in together, and while he’d love to imagine she’d have jumped at that chance, that meant she thought he was trying to take that independence away. He hastened to finish his sentence.

 

“…I figure the least I could do is return the favor while you’re looking in New York.”

 

The smile was back. “Um, also, I have something for you.” He gestured to the table. “It’s not as big as your news, but, well, I made it for you, and I thought you might like it.”

 

She looked as he pointed and grabbed the card. “For me?”

 

“Well, I don’t see any other Pams here.”

 

She smiled, and ripped the paper. He held his breath. He’d chickened out at Christmas, taking the card back when she’d almost taken Michael’s video iPod over the teapot. He’d already told her he loved her—and more importantly, since the first time he’d tried that out loud it had backfired spectacularly (though he was beginning to reconsider categorizing that as a monumental failure now, in light of current events), she’d also told him she loved him—but there was still something about seeing her read this that was simply terrifying even now.

 

Fortunately, the smile was still there, if now a bit misty, and he could breathe again.

Chapter End Notes:
Next: what the card says, Pam's POV on it, and possibly Jim's GP coming in so he can move rooms. Thanks to all who have read and reviewed! Reminder: it's only like 10:30 am on June 13 now, but this is intended to end on June 13.

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