Her absence was like the air, without her living would be impossible.

She was gone. He had laid himself bare in front of her and she had rejected him. She had cried. She had run.

There was no room in his heart for any anger towards her. Yes, she had kissed him, she made the move. She had taken him by surprise, giving him something he had been dreaming of for so long and had written off as more than unrealistic. Kissing her had felt every bit as incredible as he had expected it to, and for the briefest of seconds he had allowed himself to hope, hope that the future he had only dreamed about could be a reality.

Then she had taken back what she'd given, taken everything away from him.

How could he be angry with her? She was confused, fragile and he had gone and thrown her into more turmoil, likely destroying their friendship in the process with his poor timing and impulsiveness. If he had just kept his mouth shut! He could have let her set the stage for them, let her make the decision, not rushed headlong into professing his love for her, overwhelming her, and then maybe she would be here right now, not out wandering the streets god knows where on the darkest of nights.

The image of her walking away from him at the gallery stung fiercely; it had seemed so final. He knew with a certainty that the expression of stark betrayal that had lingered on her face seconds before she walked out was a memory that would haunt him for a long time to come.

He hadn't intended to tell her that evening – not at all, he wasn't a complete jerk. Telling a woman who was nursing the open wounds of a violent relationship, a woman who only hours before had been sitting in a courtroom crying as she recalled said relationship, laying the burden of his feelings on her – that was a dick move at the very least. She deserved better.

And in a sinister twist of deja vu, he'd again ended up out looking for her – just like he was the night she left Roy and came to him. And parallel to that night, again, she had simply vanished into the ether somewhere. And yet, she kissed him. The was the stumbling block he kept falling on; the one spark of light he wanted to cling to. She had made the move. He reacted. She kissed him. And then she had apologized to him. And yet he knew he wasn't alone in the kiss – she gave as much as he did.

He needed to find her, to explain. To try to salvage their friendship. To know she was alright.

Jim considered calling Helene to find out if she had turned up there at her parents hotel but the very thought of trying to come up with an explanation for Pam walking out reddened his face with shame. Besides, he reasoned it had been a few hours since she'd disappeared at the gallery – he felt sure Helene would push Pam to call him or message him at least, if not just to say she was alright.

And he did feel a distinct protectiveness over her – she had been through so much – if something happened to her, in her emotional state she was so vulnerable – what if she got hurt somehow while she was out on the street in the night. Physically hurt. The thought was too dark for him to bear, and know it would be his own fault… he could never live with that. He was at a complete loss, it was strange new ground for him – under usual circumstances he was always so confident of his footing with Pam, with her he instinctively followed the unspoken rules, ever mindful of the invisible lines between them.

But. For that one incredible moment when their lips finally met, he had felt hope, hope that he hadn't held in the longest time. Then he'd come crashing back into his senses. She'd rejected him. He'd taken all of his long pent up feelings towards her and swept his love over her like a tidal wave and she had pushed him away.

He had smothered her. If she didn't want to speak to him again he couldn't blame her. He had taken advantage of her in the worst way, he had betrayed their friendship. There she was his best friend. He was supposed to be the one person who would never hurt her, the one person she would feel safe around.

And now where could they go from that point on?

Of all the ways he imagined that moment could go, nothing had prepared him for this. She had cried, she had run. She was gone. He was empty, he had nothing left, what good was anything when he'd put all his love on the line for her and it had been wrong, wrong wrong. And she had his heart, she had run with it and he was left there hollow, a terrible great gaping blackness where his heart used to be.

-TO-

Jim had soon fallen into a fretful sleep. Around him the cold rushed and swooped, pooled on his bones, starkly mute in the darkened room. Flopped uncomfortably on the couch – the couch Pam had often fallen asleep on – he fell deeper into sleep. He did not sense the small footsteps carefully stealing across the room, or the flicker of light as a lamp came on. He did not feel the warming comfort as a soft blanket was gently laid over him as he slept, nor the tender fingers that brushed his hair away from his face.

What did wake him, some hours later, hit him with all the subtlety of a sudden heart attack. He was deeply asleep, and then he was flying upwards towards the sad light of consciousness, his eyes springing open with a jarring impact. He didn't know if it was the familiar scent of perfume lingering in the room that woke him, or the two green eyes watching him quietly through the darkness.

"Hey." She said softly.

Jim started up in shock, trying to pull himself into a somewhat seated position, a despondent sleep still buzzing in his brain. A furious humiliation rushed through him, flushing his sleep worn face as the scene at the gallery came speeding back to him. Awkwardly shifting on the couch, his muscles half arrested with drowsiness, Jim chanced a look at her.

"Shit." he mumbled as the cushions he had been laying on tumbled to the floor. A second realization took hold of him. She had come back. She was here, sitting right in front of him. He had been so fearful he'd not see her again, that she'd even send her parents to get her things from his house to avoid the burden of an uncomfortable encounter. But. She had come back. Despite everything he was so pleased to see her – and in the deep recesses of his brain he pondered the connotations of this. Maybe. Just maybe.

"I just-" he began to make his apologies.

"Sshhh." Pam silenced him, leaning forward. "Please. Don't say anything. Just let me talk."

Jim hesitated, unnerved by her countenance, calm and inscrutable. Her eyes were wide, open and honest. They were no longer the bright, shining jade eyes that had been enough to make his heart skip a beat or two, but now a dull laurel green, with wind driven oceans of sadness that only cemented to him just how much he loved her. He nodded somewhat agreeably, lowering his head and sitting forward.

"I'm sorry."

Jim's head jerked up indignantly. She said it so simply, so casually, so honestly. The last thing he wanted was for her to think that this was her fault in any way. It was himself after all who had gone off half cocked and unloaded his feelings all over her - feelings that she was not ready to hear, not ready to feel. And then he''d practically demanded to know if she loved him or not. If there was an apology owed, well then the debt was certainly his.

"What have you got-"

"Please."

Jim shrugged nervously. "Sorry."

"I wasn't fair to you earlier." she continued sadly. "I kissed you. Then I walked away from you. What you said.. really… scared me. Not your fault. Jim, you're my best friend. I can't imagine you not being in my life." Pam bit her bottom lip. "I know you're not Roy. I know that. And there are so many differences between you. I came here that night because I trusted you. Because you weren't Roy. I need to be more honest, I know that. It's going to take time, I think. But Jim, I… know how selfish I am, but I do need you in my life."

She fell silent, frustrated. She wasn't making sense to herself, her words were tumbling over themselves. She looked at Jim warily, trying to read his thoughts, a feat both herself and Jim often unintentionally accomplished, a silent fluency in body language and gestures between them which was long established.

"Jim…." she said. "I don't want things to be weird between us. I couldn't leave in the morning with this being how we said goodbye. I can't bear knowing I hurt you like that. I didn't want to hurt you."

Jim slowly raised his eyes to meet hers. "When I said... that... I love you." he held her stare. "I meant it. What am I going to do with that? Things are gonna change with us. It's already weird. I can't change what's happened, or how I feel."

"You-you never said anything before." she said, a logic that sounded weak even to herself.

"When would have been a good time? You expect me to be that guy who tries to steal a girl away from the guy she's going to marry? When you came to stay here? Should I have told you after you woke up in tears in the night because of what he did to you? Maybe slipped you a valentines card over breakfast?"

Pam slumped her shoulders, hurt flashing beneath the surface of her weary eyes.

"I'm sorry." she said, a tear sliding down her cheek. Jim looked at her sorrowfully, his sudden bitterness subsiding as quickly as it had risen.

He sighed heavily. "No, I'm sorry." he leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "It was unbelievably bad timing. After everything you've been through, especially today. I'm sorry. I tried to pressure you. I'm an ass."

"Jim…" Pam reached out to take his hand. But the reason they were here was at the forefront of her mind and she withdrew it quickly. Jim looked up with hurt filled eyes.

"I kissed you first." she said dully.

"I know."

Pam wiped at her cheeks with her sleeve. "I'm.. confused." Jim's forehead creased into a frown. He looked back at her, not speaking.

"I… I wanted to." she said in a low voice.

An agonized expression flew over his face. "So where do we go from here?" he said after a moment.

"I'm leaving in four and a half hours." she reminded him, wincing at the sadness that filled his eyes. She wished she could take the words back, hating herself for how nonchalant she had sounded. She knew he didn't need to be told again that she was leaving.

"I'm sorry. I misinterpreted things. I feel like a such a jerk. Thinking for a second you might…." he faded out miserably.

"I-I don't know how I feel. But," she said honestly, looking down. Another tear slid down from her eyes, followed by another. "I don't want to hurt you for anything in the world."

"I'm already out on a limb. Be honest. How do you feel about…. us?" he said, gripping tightly to the arm of the chair.

She looked at the hazy form of Jim, the watery colors around him blending in to one another. Frustrated, she swiped at her eyes again, barely noticing the spreading damp spot on her sleeve. A striking chill prickled up her arms and the back of her neck.

"I'm not ready for anything." she finally said. She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her elbows.

"I know that." he replied helplessly.

There were so many emotions swirling and blurring around her. The despondency coming off Jim in tidal waves and her own despair was overwhelming. "I thought a lot about things tonight, before I came back here. I'm tired, I'm confused. I need a break." She stopped, her chest rising and falling heavily. "When we're together we have so much fun. It's like my soul reaches out and touches yours. You're my best friend."

She waved a hand, motioning for Jim to be quiet as she contemplated. "Don't..." Pam spoke slowly and carefully. "Don't say you're sorry for how you feel. You're.. amazing... as a friend, as a person. You really put yourself out there tonight. I know that."

"Pam," Jim leaned closer to her, speaking in a low tone. "I know how it looked, I know that, but I didn't do all of that tonight intending to tell you how I felt. I did it because wanted to make you happy, I wanted to help you."

Pam nodded slowly. "I know. Look," she said. "I don't know how to say this the right way. I don't. This is hard." she sighed heavily, bringing her hands up to her face.

"Just say it." he said carelessly. "It doesn't matter. I'll accept it whatever."

"It scared me a bit." she said. "I know you meant it."

"I do mean it."

Looking at his sincere, drawn features - knowing she was the reason for his sadness, his hurt - she reached out to him, earlier events be damned. She gripped his hand tightly. He gazed at her, eyes red with unshed tears.

"Thank you."

Jim's eyes widened in surprise. He leaned back, pulling his hand back only to feel her grip tightening.

"Thank you. For caring so much about me."

A heavy lump rose in his throat. A sudden warm tear sliding off his cheek was the only response he could give.

"I... I can't make you any promises." she said, hesitantly.

"I wouldn't ask you to." Jim rubbed his thumb over her hand gently. "I think you missed out on all the good stuff with Roy. I hope one day you'll be able to let someone show you how easy to love you are."

She was still holding his hand. It felt so good, fit so well inside his much larger hand. He was beginning to realize sparks of hope that Roy perhaps hadn't completely destroyed the love she had inside of her.

"I'd need some time to myself first before I could share myself with anyone again." she said. That was no lie. Warm, complex quarreling emotions swirled around inside of her, a tropical snowstorm of mixed tempers bubbling towards her surface. Yes, lately she had started becoming aware of little things about him, like the way he looked first thing in the morning, all mussed up and innocent looking, like every day was a fresh new chapter. Aware of how unassuming he was about his own character, his willingness to be there for her over everything else, how he would know just the right thing to say – even quoting her favorite movies like he did in the courthouse – how well he knew her.

"I'd need to take it very, very slowly in a new relationship." she said cautiously, looking away from him.

Jim nodded. "I think the guy in that relationship would understand that." he said meaningfully.

"The girl has to know she's in the relationship for the right reasons." she replied.

"Maybe the guy would be willing to wait." Jim said, hope lifting his spirit up.

Pam simply looked at him, sticky tears itching her eyes, thinking hard. For the first time in years, a little light peeked in to her world. Jim was watching her in response, carefully, nothing but love radiating from him.

Maybe, she could dare to hope.

-TO-

Pam lifted her purse onto her shoulder. She glanced around the hallway, eyes lingering on every little corner and every object as though committing it to memory. She was exhausted, eagerly anticipating a long sleep in her parents car.

"Well. My mom and dad are waiting, I guess." she said to Jim. An awkward silence pinged between them, neither knowing quite how to act with each other.

"Well then Beesly." Jim finally spoke first. "I guess I'll see you when you get back. Make the most of it, before you know it you'll be back to pushing Dwight's dead carcasses off your desk and figuring out how to survive another day of-"

"Phyllis' stinky perfumes." she finished with a small laugh. Her eyes watered as she looked up at Jim. "Oh Jim, always with a joke." she said sadly.

"Yeah." he said, scuffling his feet on the carpet.

"Well." Pam turned towards the door. "I guess I better go before my dad starts freaking out."

Jim jerked his chin up, not knowing how to handle this. She was actually leaving. Only in part though, he knew very well her presence would still be there in a way, in his house, in the office, wherever he went. Everything would remind him of her absence. He already missed her – and she hadn't even crossed out the door yet. They were so close. He didn't know how things would turn out. All he knew is that he loved her and that love wasn't going anywhere.

"Goodbye, then." she said woodenly from the open doorway.

"Look after yourself." he said. She smiled anxiously at him, and stepped outside. Jim lingered by the door as she walked up the driveway, sadness consuming him.

"Oh, this is so stupid." Pam suddenly said, swinging round again. Letting her purse fall to the ground, she stepped back inside the small house.

"Come here." she said, moving towards him and extending her arms. Jim reciprocated the hug, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

"Don't say goodbye." Jim said, stroking her back up and down gently.

"I'll be back." she promised.

"I'll be here."

All too soon she had let go of him and was walking out of the door again; Jim tried to convince himself that's all it was, she wasn't walking out of his life. But watching love leave is never easy.

"Oh Beesly?" He called out, smiling when she stopped and turned around questioningly.

"This guy, in the take-it-slowly relationship? He's gotta know he'd be the luckiest man on earth, right?"

She smiled, a real genuine smile that warmed his heart. "Maybe. I guess it would be a question of who was the luckiest out of the two."

"Pam?" he called again. She turned once more.

His stomach plummeted, seeing her there, starkly alone and small against the huge, clean driveway. He was empty of all but a little hope. He loved her. That would not change. But how he would miss her.

"Take care of yourself." he said, as cheerfully as he could.

Pam smiled and gently waved her hand. "I'm not saying goodbye." she said and quickly turned, hurrying down the driveway and climbing into her parents car.

Jim watched the car until it was out of sight, vaguely aware of a heavy dampness coating his cheeks. Abruptly he turned around, pushing the door shut and bolting up the stairs. Throwing himself on his bed, he buried his head and wished for sleep.

It was not goodbye. He clung to that thought like a rock in a murderous sea. He would see her again, soon.

He had hope, and so did she.