”I don't know if I want this.” 

Pam looks at him from across their table for two in the Athlead office, remnants of their Chinese take-out scattered across it. Two glasses of consolation champagne from the Philly job she didn’t get are completely drained. 

Jim is well aware things have been far from perfect for the past few months. Although they haven’t really discussed any of it openly, he continues to tell himself things aren’t as dire as they seem. She’s been going along with this whole endeavor for so long, he’d simply assumed she’d go along with a potential move to Philadelphia too. 

He can’t remember when he stopped believing she actually wanted it, but now he knows for certain it’s true.

“Huh. This is a little out of left field,” he replies. It’s not fair of him, and he knows it, but Pam sees right through him, as she tends to do.

“Is it?” She pauses, but has more to say. “I just... I liked our life in Scranton.” 

He shakes his head slightly, his frustration only outweighed by a dull despondency deep in his gut. “And I have started a business in Philadelphia.”

She shrugs. They eye each other nakedly: after months of awkwardness, their unspoken impasse is finally uttered into existence. 

“So.”

“So,” she parrots, poking at her food with her chopsticks.

“Look, the telecommuting thing… it wasn’t working,” he stammers. “I can’t just do that again because it would make you feel better.”

“It wouldn’t. It wouldn’t make me feel better. It wouldn’t make the kids feel better, either.” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t get it, Pam. What exactly is the problem?”

“The problem?” she asks, and looks surprised he’s even asking. “Apparently, the problem is that you’re so busy you don’t even seem to realize there’s a problem.”

He’s taken aback, and slightly offended at her implication. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Look, Jim,” she says, trying to switch gears a bit. “I’m really happy for you, that you’re enjoying this job. That you’ve found something you like to do, and you’re going after it. And I’ve really been trying to be supportive, especially knowing how great you were back when I was doing the same.” 

The hesitancy she’d had before seems to begin to slip away, and she gets a little louder. 

“But things are very different now. We have built a life together in Scranton. Our kids, our friends, our families. My job, which I’d also like to keep. All of it is in Scranton.”

“But… can’t you be open to trying something new?” he asks. “I mean, change can be good sometimes, right?”

She bites her lip, as if stopping herself from saying something.

“If you have something to say, Pam, by all means, say it.” He doesn’t mean to utter the next part, but it slips out anyway. “Or you can just air it all out to the boom guy tomorrow.”

She looks up, her eyes fiery. 

“Do you want to know the reason I was crying, Jim? Why I broke down in front of the entire film crew? Because I have been doing everything in my power to keep us afloat at home, and when I finally had one tiny piece of good news to tell you, you were so overwhelmed with work you practically bit my head off about Cece’s video.”

He remembers that phone call, vaguely. He’d been so distracted with the account he’d just lost that he hadn’t even considered what Pam had been up to that day, how she’d been feeling, if she had anything to share. 

“You’ve never talked to me like that before, Jim. Ever. I know it’s not you. It’s this job, what it’s been doing to you.”

He’s exhausted. He’s always exhausted lately, and it’s taking its toll. That night sucked, but it was just a fight. Couples fight sometimes, it happens. He knows he fucked up, but he isn’t sure what to do other than apologize. 

“Look, I’m sorry I snapped at you on the phone,” he says. “I just… I’d been excited to see her dance for weeks. I was upset, and I took it out on you.” 

He was mad about the video, is still mad about the video, but he knows deep down he’s not mad at Pam. He’s mad at himself for not having been there in the first place.

She drops her head a bit, looking down at the table, and for the first time he notices just how exhausted she looks as well. 

“The past few months for me have been awful, Jim. Did you know that? Awful.”

He doesn’t know what to say. He’d assumed things weren’t easy, but her saying this to his face makes him feel terrible. She picks up her napkin, fiddles with it, and keeps staring at the table.

“Pam, can you look at me?” he pleads. “I’m sorry.” 

She pauses for a few moments, then looks up again. He braces himself. 

“You know what, Jim? I’m sorry, too,” she says, her eyes leveled directly at him. “I’m sorry I messed up the video. I’m sorry you missed your daughter’s dance recital.” 

He’s momentarily thrown, allows himself a cautious moment of relief that maybe this is going to be simple this time. Maybe they can apologize, and smooth things over. Maybe things will get better.

“You know what else I’m sorry about?” she continues, the tone of her voice indicating she isn’t quite finished yet. “When Phillip took his first steps last month and you weren’t there. I’m sorry you missed that.”

He feels a cold chill sweep into the room, the mood shift now impossible to ignore. He’d gotten that news in a text and watched the video Pam had sent over a dozen times while alone in his apartment. He can still hear her excited laughter in the background. 

“The other day Cece scraped her knee and couldn’t stop crying for Daddy. You weren’t answering your phone. There was nothing I could do about it, so I just held her until all three of us were crying.” Her eyes begin to glisten. “I’m sorry you missed that, too.” 

He feels a palpable ache in his heart. He doesn’t know what to say. 

“Pam, I-”

“Do you have any idea how hard it’s been at home without you?” she says. “Not just physically exhausting taking care of the kids, but afterwards? When they’re finally asleep and you’re not there at the end of the day?”

Guilt fills him like lead. What began as a celebratory night in Philly is quickly devolving into a fight.

“I am doing this for us,” he says for what feels like the dozenth time, which he knows is annoying but it’s all he’s got. “I’m doing this for our family.”

A tear finally breaks free from the corner of her eye. “Are you? Are you really?”

He wants to tell her that isn’t fair, you agreed to this. It didn’t go over so well the last time. 

“I really want this to work out, Pam. And if it means going through some tough times to get there, then… can’t we at least try? Together?”

“We can’t seem to do any of it together,” she counters. “We don’t talk about it, and when we do, we just fight. I don’t know how much longer I can take all of this, to be honest. I’m just… so tired.”

She looks at him, the tear making its way down her cheek.

They sit in a heavy silence, the likes of which they’ve never before experienced. With each passing second he feels the horrible burden of this deadlock constricting both of them, squeezing tighter and tighter.

“What are we going to do, Pam?” He shakes his head. “I mean, it’s a little late now to back out of this.”

He doesn’t intend the double meaning, but as the words escape his mouth he fears she might read it that way anyway.

“It isn’t, really,” she says. “You could just come home.”

“Just like that, huh?” he asks. “What if I like it here? What if I think we could make a life here, one that’s just as good as our life in Scranton? Maybe even better, if we let it?” 

“I don’t know,” she says. “I just don’t know. It all feels wrong to me.”

He’s frustrated that she doesn’t even want to try. Even if she could somehow be convinced, going into something as huge as a move with such a negative attitude would certainly doom it from the start.

He settles back into his chair. He has no idea where they go from here. If neither of them want to budge, where does it leave them?

“I hate this,” she whispers. “Everything about this.”

He catches her eye and sees pain he’s never wanted to see there. But this truly feels like an impossible situation. The answer should be simple but it isn’t. 

“This isn’t about the job anymore, is it?” he asks. “This is about you and me.” 

He’s put it out there now. He waits to see if she takes the bait.

“It’s never been hard to talk to you, Jim,” she says, her lip beginning to tremble. “Something has changed between us and I don’t know why.”

He’s silent, trying to make sense of all this. It has been difficult to talk to her about anything lately, but mostly because they’ve been avoiding so many topics. He desperately wants to believe that the problem isn’t them, it’s just this difficult circumstance they’ve found themselves in, but he doesn’t know, either. He just doesn’t know.

“Maybe…” she starts, clearly gauging his reaction, “...maybe we should try couples’ counseling.”

He can’t help but let out a scoff. Just the idea of it means there’s something very, very wrong here. He’s not ready to admit that yet, even if it’s true.

She rolls her eyes at his reaction; makes a sort of knew that was coming face.

“What?”

She shrugs. “Roy didn’t want to do it, either.”

He blinks. Why is she bringing up Roy? Now? 

“You guys did couples’ counseling?” He’s slightly surprised, wondering at what point in their relationship that conversation came up and why.

She looks right at him, eyes narrowed. “No. We didn’t.”

Her implication has enormous weight, and that same silence hangs between them again like a death. He hates it. The mere notion she’s drawing comparisons between himself and Roy at all makes him want to throw up. He’d always promised himself he’d never, ever treat her the way Roy did. He’s definitely not starting now.

He thinks of what Brian the boom guy had said to them in the restaurant on Valentines Day, about what had happened to him and his wife. That they couldn’t seem to get on the same page, and eventually they stopped feeling anything at all. At least the fighting made it feel like their relationship was still breathing. 

He doesn’t want to wait around for the moment everything goes numb.

I think you should stay and I think we should fight.

Put your dukes up, Beesly, indeed.

“Let’s do it,” he says, reaching across the table to touch her hand. “If you think it will help, I want to try.”

“Weird day,” Pam says from the passenger seat. 

It’s the understatement of the year. They’d attended her ex-fiance’s wedding in the morning, then he’d spent the rest of the day avoiding telling her something he knew he should.

“Really weird,” he agrees. 

Roy’s comment about Pam being a bullet he’d dodged still makes Jim seethe with rage. Having the gall to insult his wife directly to his face isn’t something he thought even Roy was capable of. He’s kicking himself for not calling him out, for not saying it was she who, in fact, actually dodged the bullet. But at the end of the day, he’s still Jim Halpert. He just wouldn’t do that to a guy on his wedding day. Back at home above their fireplace, that ‘Mr. Nice Guy’ Dundie’s tiny golden ears were probably burning.

Roy’s success has been wearing on him all afternoon. The knowledge that this guy he used to hate with every fiber of his being has ended up with pretty much everything he wanted is gnawing away at him. Jim doesn’t want to be jealous, it’s an ugly look, but he can’t help it. 

Hopefully things will be turning around for him, career-wise, very soon. Pam will be happy for him, he knows it. He just has to find the right time to tell her.

He reaches over the console to take her hand. “I think you look gorgeous today, by the way. I don’t know if I told you.”

“You didn’t,” she says with a smile. “But thanks.”

“Hey, it’s something you didn’t know about me, right?”

“I knew.” 

She squeezes his hand, and even though they have this unspoken thing hovering between them, he always feels like everything is going to be okay when she touches him. 

“It’s funny the way things turn out,” she suddenly says. He can see out of the corner of his eye she’s tucking her hair behind her ear, a nervous tic he knows indicates whatever she’s about to say she’s been considering for a while.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “Well, it seems like Roy is really happy. It seems like he’s changed. And I should maybe feel resentful or annoyed that it didn’t happen when he was with me, but I’m just not feeling that right now.”

“Well, I should hope not,” Jim grumbles good-naturedly.

She laughs. “No, that’s not what I mean. I just…” she seems to be battling with something. “It makes me wonder… did he really just sort of grow up and find this person who changed him? Or was it something about me, at the time, that made him behave the way he did?”

Jim turns to look at her briefly. “That sounds a bit like you’re blaming yourself,” he says, slightly upset at the notion. “You didn’t deserve the crap he put you through. None of that was your fault.”

“No, you’re right, and that’s not what I’m trying to say.” She shakes her head. “I just mean… I wasn’t the same person with him as I am with you. I never was. And maybe that’s the whole point.”

He nods slowly, getting it. He’d never blame Pam for Roy’s behavior, but her reluctance to stand up for herself at the time, to feel free to share her opinions or assert herself, had surely had an impact on their dynamic. Maybe Roy didn’t work very hard at their relationship because he didn’t think he had to; maybe Pam, in her perpetual acceptance of its mediocrity, was telling him it was exactly what she deserved: no more, no less. 

He knows with absolute confidence he would have loved her in every single one of her iterations, but by the time she’d gotten together with Jim, she’d begun to undergo such a transformation all on her own. The experience of watching her grow and become the person she was meant to be, all while being right by her side, is an extremely special gift that Jim will always be grateful for. 

“I think we’ve all changed,” Jim says. “Not necessarily as people, but... the things we want, the things we feel we deserve become clearer as time goes on. As we learn more about ourselves.” He can't help but think about all that time years ago he'd spent away at Stamford, trying to convince himself he was over Pam, then ultimately realizing that not only did he not want to get over her, but that he didn't have to.

“Yeah,” she agrees, holding his hand in her lap, absently stroking his fingers. “And it’s important to go after the things you want.” 

He clears his throat, wondering if maybe now is a good time to bring up Athlead. She can’t kill him while he’s driving, right?

“He called Laura his mystery girl,” she continues pensively, before he can say anything. “There was no mystery between me and Roy. He knew everything there was to know about me because I never changed.”

None of this is about Roy, really. Jim wonders what's going through Pam's mind. He knows the idea that they don’t necessarily surprise each other anymore seems to be bothering her, and has since they’d left the wedding. But it doesn’t bother him at all. He loves the fact that they know each other so well, that they’ve already reached a level of intimacy that many couples never reach, or at least don’t until they’re practically ancient. He’s also convinced that their evolution isn’t over: that they’ll continue to grow and change and surprise each other regardless of the way she feels today.

“Is that really still bugging you?” he asks. 

She looks over at him “No. I’m sure you’ll sing Billy Joel to me someday, too.”

He rolls his eyes. She smiles and looks out the window.

“Well, I’m certainly glad you figured out you deserved better than Roy before the Billy Joel medleys began,” he smirks.

“I think deep down I always knew I deserved better,” she counters. “I was just afraid to admit it to myself. And it was you who showed me that every day.” She looks over at him. “So thank you, Jim.”

He grins. “You’re very welcome.”

She sighs and lays back into her seat, cradling Jim’s hand in her lap.

“It’s funny, the things that make you realize your life is perfectly on track.” 

He feels a nervous rumbling in his gut, the knowledge he’s going to have to break this news about his new job to her teetering on the edge of his mind. What he thought might be a great time is now most definitely not the time.

When they arrive home, they say goodbye to Helene and check on their babies. Everything is quiet, save for the clinking of the dishes Pam begins loading into the dishwasher.

He watches her for a minute as he undoes his tie, their routine so familiar, so comfortable. From time to time he supposes that, like Pam, he does catch himself wondering if they’re stuck in a rut, but in moments like these, he can’t imagine wanting anything else.

She takes off her sweater and drapes it over a chair, then starts to take off her earrings, facing the sink with her back to him. He’s constantly amazed at how attracted he is to her in every single variation, but right now, an opportunity arises to show her.

He steps over to the sink just behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. With his other hand, he gently moves her hair aside and leans in to kiss the back of her neck. He can feel her still, setting her earring on the counter as she sways a bit, most definitely aware of how turned on he is.

“Well, hello there,” she says softly. “Bedroom?” 

He turns his head gently until his cheek rests against her crown, pulling her against him, wanting her so badly there is no way they’ll make it to the bedroom.

“No,” he says. “Right here.”

She inhales sharply as his hands travel up her body, then to the back of her dress, where he starts taking down the zipper.

“See? I can still surprise you,” he whispers against her bare neck.

He isn’t sure how she’ll react; it’s been awhile since they’ve had sex anywhere but the bedroom, due to the kids and just general exhaustion. But she turns around in his arms and her hands slide up his chest, into his hair, drawing him in for a very suggestive kiss. She grabs his tie and pulls it through his collar with a gentle rustle, that smile on her face that always turns him into a pile of mush, and hops up onto the kitchen counter, wrapping her legs around his waist.

Turns out she can still surprise him, too.

Divorce. 

It’s such an ugly word.

He hates that he’s even thinking it, but the threat, while perhaps distant, is still very real. He’s prepared to do whatever it takes to make it go away.

“So how does it work?” Jim asks, still not quite believing that he’s ended up in the break room, talking to Toby about couples’ counseling. But here they are. “It's like... the action of talking to a third party breaks up the log jam, or…?”

“You're really there to talk to each other,” Toby clarifies. “I would say that the therapist is more of a facilitator. He might start by asking each of you, ‘Why do you think you're here?’”

Jim pauses. Why the hell are they going to be there? 

“I wish I knew, man.”

“Was this Pam’s idea, then?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, someone her mom recommended. Obviously it did wonders for her parents, so…”

Toby’s eyebrows go up. “Well, Jim, if you go into it with that attitude, it’s pointless.”

He considers this, that he’d only recently felt such frustration with Pam for approaching this entire Philly situation with the same attitude. Maybe he needs an adjustment, as well.

“You’re right. It’s just… we always used to be able to talk about anything. Everything. And now it’s as if every topic is tainted with this… thing between us. It sucks.” He drops his head into his hands. “Just the idea of even doing this counseling thing, it feels so unnecessary.”

“If it’s unnecessary, then you should be able to talk to Pam. About anything.”

Jim sighs. “I really want to. It’s just certain things… I know her so well that I feel like I can anticipate what she’s going to say, and when it’s something I know I won’t like, I guess I just avoid it entirely.”

“That’s not very healthy.”

“I know.”

“And it’s not fair to her.”

“I know.”

It’s weird talking to Toby about this stuff, especially considering the fact that their H.R. rep most definitely had feelings for Pam at some point. Maybe even still does. Perhaps he isn’t such an unbiased party after all. 

“Do you mind telling me what started your troubles?” Toby asks curiously. “If you even know?”

Jim is immediately uncomfortable, because deep down he knows exactly what started all of this, and he knows exactly why Pam was upset. But he remains defensive of his choices and still feels somewhat justified.

“I sort of… made an executive decision to take this job in Philly without telling her. And she wasn’t too happy about it.”

“Wasn’t?”

He exhales loudly. “...Isn’t.”

Toby screws up his face in concentration. “And… you didn’t tell her because you were afraid she'd say no?”

“I guess so. But I figured she wouldn’t really understand, that I at least needed to give this a shot. It’s going to turn out amazing for us, I can feel it.”

“But did you give her a chance to tell you how she really felt? You don’t think she deserved a say? You said she wasn’t happy with this decision.”

“Look. If I didn't do certain things without telling Pam, she'd be…” he reaches for the worst possible example, “...married to Roy,” he sort of laughs. 

“Married to Roy, and… unhappy?” Toby raises an eyebrow. 

Jim glares at Toby. The man has a point. He fucking hates that.

“What if you had told her, and she’d said no?” Toby says, switching gears. “What would have happened then?”

He laughs uncomfortably. “Well, I guess… then I wouldn’t have taken the job. I didn’t want to even entertain that possibility, which is probably why I didn’t tell her in the first place.”

“You don’t think that was selfish?”

He sighs. It was, and he knows it. 

“I suppose it was a ‘better to beg forgiveness than ask for permission’ sort of thing.”

“And has she?” Toby asks. “Forgiven you?”

“At first she seemed to. At first it all seemed to be working out fine. It just feels like everything has gotten harder, not easier.”

“Why do you think that is?” Toby asks.

“She’s struggling at home, and I get that. I understand, I do. But… If she can just hang on for a little while longer, I—this will be so huge for our family.” 

“Well, what's ‘a little while?’” Toby asks.

Jim blinks. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, what's the end date? It must be really hard for her to sign on to be unhappy if she doesn't know when it's gonna end.” 

“That's kind of an impossible question,” Jim answers. “But I feel like... if she would just get onboard to move to Philly, this could all be resolved.”

“Are you sure it’s that simple?” Toby asks. 

Jim shrugs. “I mean, yeah. My being away is the main source of all our problems.”

Toby eyes him closely, and hmms quietly, as if he’s absolutely not buying what Jim is selling at all.

“You don’t think so?” Jim asks.

“Well, I just think if Pam wanted to go to Philly, you all would be in Philly. No?”

Pam had really let him have it the other night when she told him how much she’d been struggling without him at home. He feels terrible for everything she’s been shouldering, but at the same time -- he continues to tell himself -- he’s doing this for them. Just like the things she’s been doing have been for them. All he wants is for Pam to see that, to understand that.

And then, all of a sudden, for the first time in months he has a stark realization, in the form of a question:

Who is he really doing this for?

He hates that they’ve come to this. He doesn’t want to feel trapped. But deep down he knows this was never what she wanted. She’d made that perfectly clear from the start, he’d just refused to see it. She’d only agreed because she loves him, and would never want to hold him back from anything. She’d only agreed because she wanted to be as supportive of his dreams as he’d been of hers. And now everything has gotten so out of hand to the point where she feels trapped, too.

He knows how right Toby is, how wrong he himself has been this entire time. It’s seemed as if he simply buries these truths the way he has for months, he’s been able to ignore them, or hope they’ll change, or that the problems will all go away. But he’s clearly been dreaming. 

And Pam does not share that dream.

“Well, if Pam says she won't go, then…” he shakes his head helplessly, “...we're gonna need a lot more than counseling.”

He stops short of saying we’re gonna need a miracle because it hurts too much. But they’ve officially reached that point.  

That's kind of an impossible question.

The words had come out of his own mouth and he now feels the weight of their veracity. It is impossible. What he’s asking of Pam is simply impossible. He can’t make her want something she doesn’t. He can’t force her to want the same things he does. He doesn’t even want to try. And in perhaps the first genuine moment of self realization he’s had since all of this began, he wonders if maybe she could have wanted it, maybe she would have been more open to it if he’d given her the option to express her opinion in the first place.

Toby sits back into his chair and brings his hands together, sort of smugly, like an actual therapist. 

“You’re right,” he agrees, and his next words make Jim cringe. “Sounds like you two are gonna need a miracle.”