Jim woke up the, uh, third time and this time he and Pam actually got dressed and headed out of her room. Well, in his case that meant a quick dash down the hall to his room, where he got dressed in clothes that did not smell like he’d been wearing them for most of twenty-four hours. But by the time they met up in the lobby both of them were fresh, clothed, and ready to begin the day. Well, the part of the day they could tell other people about.

Which, in this case, involved heading right back into the computer room and checking what Jan had replied to his—well, Pam’s—email.

Fortunately, since his out-of-office reply had been up for almost a month, he had relatively few other emails to ignore before he got to the one he was really waiting for.

He almost didn’t want to click. Scratch that, he really didn’t want to click. But Pam was sitting next to him, and it felt like—well, it probably was—cowardice not to. So he did.

Dear Jim,

Well, at least it didn’t start out “Dear Mr. Halpert.” He’d heard tell of emails from corporate that started out overly formal, and they were always bad news.

Thank you for reaching out.

Well, that was dangerously neutral.

I can only assume that the reason you are contacting me about this now is that you finally took my advice.

Wait, what?

I do wish you had done this a little earlier.

Fair. That sounded like a bad sign, though…

However, I am not unsympathetic to your request.

Wait, did that mean she was sympathetic?

I believe it may be possible to return you to working at the Scranton branch.

YES! He almost didn’t read the rest, but a part of him was still worried she’d reverse course mid-email.

This would, of course, be subject to certain conditions.

Naturally.

It may be possible to charge some of your vacation time to the ARM search at Stamford account, especially given the work you have done in vetting and recommending Ryan Howard for the position. However, while I will write to both Katie Mansfield here at Corporate and Toby Flenderson at Scranton about this, I believe it will be necessary to re-charge much of the last three weeks to unpaid leave. This does not, of course, include the already-approved paid leave you are, I believe, currently taking in Australia. As a result, there will of course be some significant paperwork.

Could be worse.

 In addition, I believe the Scranton branch has already reassigned the majority of your clients. While you will of course take over most of Ryan’s client list, that list may not be as extensive as yours was, and you will be responsible for acquiring new clients to make up any shortfall in your numbers.

Definitely could be worse.

Given the unusual nature and urgency of your request, I will assume these conditions are satisfactory, and direct HR accordingly.

Sincerely,

Jan Levinson-Gould

Vice President, Northeast Region

Dunder Mifflin Paper Company

PS

Best of luck with it. I hope it goes better for you than me.

JLG

He sagged with relief, ignoring that cryptic post-script for a moment, and checked the rest of his email. Exactly as Jan had promised, there were three other emails from her, one about charging his leave, another directing Toby to put him back on the rolls at Scranton, and a third, CCing him and sent to someone he assumed must be in charge of HR at Stamford, noting the change in assignment for the ARM position.

**

Jim was oddly silent as he read. Pam resisted the temptation to push in over his shoulder and read, trusting that he would let her know how it had gone, but his silence was starting to gnaw on her.

He sagged in his seat and started clicking, and she had a sinking feeling in her stomach. It must have gone wrong somehow. He must be looking for new jobs, or trying to find something for her in Stamford, or something. He would have said something otherwise, right?

So she was totally shocked when he finally turned to her with the biggest grin she’d ever seen splashed across his face.

“I’m in!” He threw his arms around her surprised body and hugged her close. “I mean, I’m back. I mean, I will be.” He put her at arms length to look at her and then pulled her in and kissed her. “She okayed the re-transfer, put Ryan at Stamford, all of it.” Then he scooted out of the way so she could read it for herself. “Look! You did it! We did it!”

She glanced through the email, latching onto key words. “Not unsympathetic.” “May be possible.” “Certain conditions.” And finally “direct HR accordingly.”

She could read bureaucratese. This was a total win.

But…

“What does she mean, ‘took my advice’? And why does she wish you ‘good luck with it’?”

Jim frowned in concentration—and now that she was less nervous, she could tell the difference easily between that kind of frown and the actual sad or disappointed kind—and rubbed his neck.

“All I can think of is something she said right before…well, on Casino Night.” He looked suddenly vulnerable and she grabbed his hand for mutual reassurance. “She asked if I’d told anyone about the transfer. I said no. She said I should.” He laughed shortly. “That was what I actually meant to tell you when I ended up blurting out that thing about being in love with you.”

“Oh.” That made sense. “So you had meant to tell me?”

“Of course.” He rubbed harder, and she was worried he’d hurt himself, so she grabbed the other hand too and squeezed his between both of hers. “It was just…after what I did say, it didn’t feel like ‘oh by the way I’m transferring’ was a good thing to add.”

“Fair enough. And look where it got us.” She gestured around at the general Sydney-ness of their surroundings, but also the fact that they were there together. “Water under the bridge.” She smiled at him. “Not that I’m ever going to let you forget it, mind you…”

“I would hope not.” He smiled back, thank God. “So yeah, I guess that must be what she meant.”

“And the other bit?”

“She had an overnight bag in her trunk. On Casino Night. I think she was planning to stay with Michael…”

“Except he had a date. Ouch.”

“Yeah. So that’s what she meant by that, I think.”

She held his hands in hers and looked deep in his eyes. “Can you promise me you won’t be Michael?”

“I’m pretty sure I can.”

“Then I think we’re going to be OK.” She squeezed his hands. “After all, Jim, you’re coming back to Scranton.”