In the end there was no forced exile, at least not for Pam.

Michael on the other hand, was given 20 minutes to pack.

As Pam watched him solemnly refill the suitcase he had only emptied just days before, the expression of shame clearly manifest in his downcast eyes as he transferred piles of casual clothes from the spare chair and suits from the closet back to into his luggage, she wasn’t sure if what she felt was anger or pity or some combination of both.

None of the terrible things he did were ever out of malice.

Ignorance, yes.

Impetuousness, yes.

Foolishness, yes.

Still, he always meant well and she believed him when he tried to explain he was only trying to record COPS, to show Randall another documentary style program that might inspire him in his current work.

However, there were times she felt exactly as Gabby did and understood why she wanted him out of her sight and home at once.

As usual his behavior and subsequent banishment, though unintentional, would have its repercussions for her.

His refuge at the office was going to be complicated and a little risky.

Complicated because Pam, having no car, was reliant on him to get places. Plus, she might still need him to purchase things that she with her limited funds and lack of credit cards could not. She’d spent some of her money when she and Michael went on a breakfast run on Sunday, picking up bagels and orange juice to share with their hosts and more of the donuts Randall enjoyed so much. Michael didn’t seem to notice when she pulled out her cash to contribute, or if he did, he didn’t ask where she had gotten it from. What little funds remained she needed to make last.

Risky, because without Pam to keep an eye on him the likelihood he might get caught or do something that could wreak havoc on the future was as high as the probability of him kicking Toby out of any given meeting.

So, although not asked to leave she felt as if she had no choice but to join him at Hotel Dunder Mifflin and she began to pack herself.

It was really only because Randall, and to a larger degree Gabby, pleaded that she stay, as if she were doing them the favor by remaining on as their guest, that she set her bag back down in the office and agreed to let Michael go without her.

Still Pam worried how his taking his refuge at the place they worked was troublesome. Timing, being it involved counting, was not one of his strong suits. And if he were late getting out of the office one morning, who knew what disaster could ensue.

But because Gabby wanted Pam to stay and Randall did all he could to always keep his wife happy, he adjusted his own schedule, setting his alarm for even earlier each day so he could get to Dunder Mifflin before anyone else to make sure Michael got up and out on time.  

Additionally, she made Michael agree to check in every day for a status update and to give her a play by play on where he planned to go and what he intended to do for the day. He promised too, he would provide her transportation so she could get back to her home to swap out clothes and other stuff, and do her laundry.

Even Gabby, who had calmed down significantly by the time he was leaving, agreed to allow him back into her home on a case by case and as needed basis.

Awaking alone in the provisional bedroom felt strange, not that it wasn’t bizarre before when each morning she had to remind herself where she was and how she’d gotten there. But at least on her first Monday being in the room by herself she wasn’t awakened to a barrage of disoriented panic from Michael and didn’t have to explain why he was sleeping on a bench in a crowded room with his receptionist or warn him to keep it down when he stirred with excited plans for all the things he planned to do while off from work. Pam should have been able to sleep in that first Monday, but couldn’t. Her head was already turning thinking of what could happen if Michael didn’t make it out before everyone else arrived that day.

As she lay there, she remembered what day it was, the morning the original version of her boss would arrive late after burning his foot on his Foreman grill.

I should have tried harder to get him to hide that thing, she uttered in her mind while she stirred in the bed.

While she would not have chosen to come back in time exclusively to alter the events of that day, not that she had any choice in making this journey at all, now that she was here, she felt she should have tried harder to convince Michael they could have stopped Dwight from getting concussed. Plus, preventing his injury would have benefits beyond protecting Dwight. It would spare everyone from being annoyed all that day with Michael’s attention-seeking behavior as he carried on about his ‘disability’.

“Oh, no,” she suddenly said aloud.

What if he gets out on time but goes right back to his condo? He could wind up walking in on himself.

Pam couldn’t stop her thoughts from spinning wildly, still unsure what might transpire if either of them stumbled onto themselves. The Harry Potter book she’d read again over the weekend had not given her any more clues. She tried to reason with herself, thinking silently, what's the worst that could happen?

Michael goes mad, he has to take a leave of absence from Dunder Mifflin. They find a new manager or maybe promote from within.

Jim, perhaps.

But that would mean he’d be her boss which could be okay, except it would also mean he would exchange his bullpen desk for the glassed-in office. She’d be left alone with Dwight and his replacement, who she supposed would be Ryan. Somehow, that seemed like a lot less fun than the current arrangement with Jim just a glance away or a short walk from where she was.

He’d still be at Dunder Mifflin though, and hopefully he would make the trip to her desk just as often. Only, she realized as she kept on ruminating on the outcome, he’d have to become more managerial and the trips would have to have a real purpose other than getting his palms read, comparing Free Cell scores or plotting a prank, and his promotion would surely put an end to their days of laughing and goofing off together.

Or, it could be worse than even that. They could make Dwight the manager.

««««««««

Dwight could barely focus on the street signs during the drive to Michael’s condo, but it scarcely mattered as he navigated his way strictly by rote, having committed the route to memory after he’d accompanied him to his closing a few months back and then joined him again to help him move in.

It was the double vision however, that made it more difficult, the lane demarcations weaved and bobbed past his eyes as he sped down the streets to save Michael.

Still in a haze as he entered the front door, which had been left unlocked, he thought little of the fact but for a moment of clarity where he began to yell up the stairs.

“Michael, never leave your front…”

It was gone, the thought. Whatever thing he was lecturing Michael about had evaporated as his attention was now focused on the voice that carried from above even as he saw Michael pass through the den and out the sliding back door. 

“Is that you Dwight?  Damn it, I wanted them to send Ryan. Hurry upstairs, I’m in pain here. And I’ve gotta go.”

Even in the fog he was in—although he had never experienced this kind of vertigo before, not the time Mose hurled the barn door shut into his face nor when he came to following his passing out after applying pesticides without wearing the strongly-recommended, full face respirator since he knew his body had a more powerful internal filter than any face mask would provide—he knew double vision couldn’t separate images of people and their voices, at least not by floors.

“Did you get the toilet paper?” the upstairs Michael called out.

Did he? He hardly remembered anything since running out of the office upon hearing his boss’s distress.   He looked down at his hands to see if he was holding any. They were empty except for his keys.

“I did not, toilet paper, you.” Dwight answered still staring towards the glass slider door although he could no longer remember why.

“Dwight, I told you I needed toilet paper. Check the downstairs bathroom. There’s got to be a little bit left on the roll down there. And hurry. My bowels wait for no man, but they do wait for Charmin.”

»»»»»»»»

Michael’s check-in call was late and Pam’s fears were apparent both from the frown lines drawn across her forehead and the relentless twisting of her hands. Gabby’s soothing assurances that everything would be okay calmed her a bit but it wasn’t until she heard from him that she was able to stop stewing.

Michael had taken Pam’s advice after all and did try to get back to his condo in time to move the grill, but in just thinking about the bacon, he got hungry and so stopped in to the Glider Diner for breakfast, which took longer than he anticipated and so once again he was too late to prevent the events of the past. So late in fact, that he arrived just before Dwight and narrowly escaped being seen when he snuck back out moments after he walked in.

Holding it in, he went on to detail to her, he expected would be easier with the frigid air freezing his bowels as he waited in the cold in the backyard.

A shudder spread through Pam's whole body as he whined about how torturous it was to wait for Dwight to come and go with the injured version of himself before he could get back inside to take care of his morning business. And how after he was finally able to get back in his place, his insides were too frozen to come out. On top of that he had no toilet paper.

Gabby looked on with mild curiosity as Pam’s made cringy faces and shook even more.

Pam stopped him before she had to hear anything more about his bowels. She’d learned too much about his bathroom schedule in the years she had worked for him and much more than anyone should ever know in the three nights they shared a room and the guest bath. She refused to hear anything else.

All she wanted to know was when he would be coming to drive her back to her place, to which he said he was unable to know until he had taken care of the things she didn’t want to discuss.

In the end it was Gabby, after insisting it was no trouble as she was going out anyway, who gave Pam the ride back to her house to retrieve the passport and checks she’d been waiting all weekend to go back for, unable to recover her identity until Roy and her other self went back to work.

Gabby dropped her off and continued on to the bank, arranging to pick her up again in 45 minutes. It wouldn’t be enough time to do a laundry so she’d have to ask Michael to bring her back again tomorrow.

She was able to find her passport and grab a couple of checks and made sure to change her bra. The one she had grabbed from the go-bag was ill-fitting and uncomfortable, worse than she had imagined it would be when she put it on. When this whole ordeal was over and she refilled her emergency stash, it would not be among the items she kept. Between the missing clasp and the underwire digging into her side, she knew it was not fixable. She’d tried to sew closed the hole but within an hour of it being on it just reopened. It would be taken back to Gabby’s only because she couldn’t leave it in the trash of her own house as she might find it there.  

But by no means was it worth saving.

She looked around her place for any indications their time travel was making changes in her other life, differences triggered by the tiny shifts her being on the boat and back at her home the other day may have caused. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Her home looked the same as always after a weekend, for the most part tidy and clean, as much of her Saturday was always devoted to that. But as it was every Monday, Roy’s dresser drawers were left half open, a mostly-drunk cup of coffee sat atop it, the sweats and tee he slept in lay on floor, less than two feet from the hamper. She thought to tidy it all up, to save her own self the trouble of doing it later but instead devoted the last of her time to gathering some of the smaller watercolors and old sketchbooks her companion asked to see.

She was still not sure she remembered ever mentioning her artistic hobbies to Gabby but figured maybe it was Randall who had. Nonetheless she was happy to show them off over the lunch they planned to have back at the apartment after they shopped together for the week’s groceries.

At the supermarket, Pam offered to pay but Gabby just waved her away when she pulled out the check at the register. She had been more than prepared to contribute, feeling it was the proper thing to do, but was just a bit relieved not to, worried she might overdraft their account since Roy was known to withdraw cash on the weekends from their joint account, often neglecting to tell her about it. Of course he would yell at her for the bounced checks she wrote to pay the utility bills having to apologize when she pointed out how it was his own fault. But this overdraft she wouldn’t have been able to blame on him. Or explain for that matter.

««««««««

Over their lunch back at the apartment, the two got to know each other more while Pam showed off the artwork she’d gathered.

“This one is just so detailed. You’ve captured the absolute delight in the subject’s eyes but I detect a bit of something slightly sinister going on there too. It’s quite remarkable what you are able to convey in a pencil drawing.”

Pam looked down at the sketch that she’d doodled in the office what felt like a lifetime ago. She’d only recently met Jim back then but had been slowly getting to know him and his ways. If she remembered correctly, he had just switched the plug to his own mouse into Dwight’s computer and was waiting for him to get back to start messing with him by randomly moving his cursor as he got back to work.

It was just as Gabby described, the look she caught on his face and she felt compelled to sketch it, a bit of glee dancing into her own eyes as she encapsulated the moment in graphite. That is, until Dwight went berserk trying to figure out why his mouse had taken to moving on its own and Jim began suggesting demon possession and she couldn’t help but giggle in response.

She was thrilled the unique mix of joyful exuberance and deviant plotting she spied in his emerald irises translated onto the paper.

“Thank you,” Pam replied softly with a hint of pride but also the bashfulness she always felt when showing her art.

“I assume this is Jim.”

The way she said it made Pam think of Phyllis, her voice taking on the same gleefully suspicious intonation while her eyes lit up with the same sparkle she’d seen come over the older saleswoman whenever there was something to gossip about.

Pam looked back at her with a touch of curiosity in her own eyes which Gabby read loud and clear.

“Oh, Randall’s told me all about everyone, Dwight, Jim, Creed,” she said with a little lift of her voice indicating she knew just what a strange bird he was.

“I’ve heard all about the crazy stuff that goes on in your office and the cast of characters you work with. And much of the nonsense Michael has put you through. From what he says goes on at Dunder Mifflin, it sounds like there’s never a dull moment.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. We have some lulls… like when Michael is out of the office,” Pam said with a laugh and a little hand drum on the table for effect.

The chuckle and nod she got in response from Gabby, emboldened her to share more. It was similar to how she would talk to her husband or any of the crew in their talking head interviews, but this setting had a casualness and an intimacy that put her much more at ease.

“In fact, it’s my job to revive Jim when he nearly dies from boredom during those times. Did you hear about our Office Olympics?”

“I did. So creative and from what Randall said it was a blast for everyone. You and Jim sound like a fun team and great friends.”

“We are. He’s one of the people that keeps me sane when things like mystery excre...” she paused about to describe the latest office craziness, the one that resulted in her being here at her cameraman’s house but remembered it hadn’t yet happened and decided it was best not to bring it up... “well it sounds like you know all about the insanity that goes on there.”

Fear of saying anything more of the future, Pam took a bite of her sandwich instead but Gabby not missing a beat continued the chat and brought the topic back around to what had just occurred in the current timeline.

“Oh, and I understand your fiancé works with you too in the warehouse. Randall hasn’t said much about him, but he did mention you’ll be getting married soon.  That you just the other night, set the date.”

Having lived through it twice now only intensified the reality of what at long last was going to occur in five months, but as Gabby said it aloud, it felt more real to her than ever and she felt herself get warm and a bit flustered. Unsure why, since it was everything she’d wanted for the last who knows how many years, she started to shake and the nibble of the sandwich that she had taken seemed to multiply and overwhelm the space in her mouth and she was suddenly unable to swallow.

Gabby noticing her distress quickly refilled her glass from the pitcher and urged her to take a sip.

The liquid did the trick and the bite went down, but still didn’t feel quite right as it traveled down to her stomach.

“Okay hon?”

“Yes, thank you. I’m not sure what that was but I’m better now.”

“Oh, nerves, I’m sure. Every bride-to-be gets them.” Gabby smiled warmly at her.

“Usually not until a few days before, but you seem to be on a different timeline. Maybe the time traveling has something to do with it,” she added with a wink.

Pam was still unsure how Randall had convinced his wife the three of them were not completely out of their minds when he brought them home but she was relieved both that she could be honest with her about her situation, and that it was a good excuse as to her sudden strange reaction about getting married even if she herself knew it wasn’t that.

Pam was thumbing the page of her book, about to turn to the sketch she’d wanted to show next, a drawing she remembered creating of the camera that her husband was always partially hidden behind, his single blue eye peeking out, piercing even in the black and white version she drew.

However, she hovered a moment longer on the sketch of Jim, admiring the mischievous magic she’d drawn in the eyes of her friend. When she turned the page to where she had penciled Randall busy at his craft, her eyes were pulled to a detail in the sketch that she hadn’t remembered depicting. It was something that happened from time to time when she got so lost in the art she didn’t see the little details of what she was creating until she stepped back to look at what was in front of her. Here it was the shaded penciled streaks illustrating the gleam off Randall’s wedding band, casting rays that looked as if they came from the lens itself.

“You must be missing him very much.”

“Oh, absolutely I am, I think I’m having prank withdra...” She stopped herself before she finished.

Gabby meant Roy, her fiancé, not Jim, her office buddy. What did it say that her thoughts went right to Jim?

Nothing, she told herself. She'd been looking at his sketch when she heard it that’s all. Except she wasn’t. By then she had already turned to the page with Randall.

Still, she had been in the moments before and on top of that she was still thinking about the secret she knew about his feelings and trying to reconcile how she was going to deal with it when she was finally back in her own time with him.

Plus, she did miss Jim too, that was true. Knowing what had been going on all day at work, it was more than understandable she would. His reaction to hearing about Michael’s burnt foot was priceless, his jokes throughout the day were hysterical and yet he came through for Dwight in the end. He was such a good guy, of course she would have him on her mind today. And yesterday and every day since she’d overheard him and Michael on the cruise. When she looked up from the book, she noticed the curious look now spread across Gabby’s face.

“You mean Roy, don’t you? Of course, I miss him. I’ve never been away from him this long, not since we moved in together. It’s definitely weird.”

It was weird but it wasn’t necessarily a bad weird. If she thought about it, she didn’t think she missed Roy all that much.

If at all.

Not yet, she assured herself. It had only been a few days and she’d been too busy to think much on it with all that was on her mind. Now that Gabby had brought him up though, she was sure she would begin to.

After they finished with lunch, Gabby excused herself to makes some calls and book some tutoring sessions with her young clients. Pam offered to get a head start on prepping for dinner, eager to earn her keep as a guest but she was waved off again and told to take the time for herself.

“It’s not often you have all this free time. Michael wasn’t so off when he wanted to make the most of his extra time, except in the expectations and execution. But I’m sure there’s plenty you can do to get a head start on research for the wedding or other personal stuff. You can use the computer in the office.”

Pam thanked her for the idea and set off to look up some florists. After looking up three, she promptly lost interest and found herself playing online Sudoku instead, wanting desperately to call Jim to brag on her latest score but knowing sadly she couldn’t.

In her mind, however she sang, Sudoku. Level moderate. 18 minutes. Suck on that, Halpert, feeling the déjà vu of remembering she’d already left him that message in the future.

That got her thinking, she’d taken this challenge before so shouldn’t she have been able to get a better time this go around and now she wondered why she hadn’t.

Weren’t you supposed to learn from your earlier mistakes?

»»»»»»»»

Randall came through the apartment door just as Pam was setting down the silverware next to the three plates on the table.

She was enjoying the domesticity of the dinner routine she’d become part of in the few days since she had arrived. She and Roy rarely ate at their table when home, most often taking their meals on the couch in front of the TV and not always at the same time. But the Stewarts ate together most nights and because food was not allowed anywhere near the white sofa where the television was, it was always served like it had been in her childhood home, at the dinner table with questions about the day and lively conversation.

“Have I got a story for you, hon.”

He obviously thought she was his wife and went silent momentarily when he looked up to see Pam as he set down the bag he’d had on his shoulder.

“Oh, it’s you Pam. You’re not going to believe what you missed today,” he continued as Gabby joined them, a plate of rice and broccoli in her hands.

“But of course, you were there so you know. Which makes me wonder why you and Michael didn’t try and prevent today’s debacle?”

This was different. On the boat he hadn’t wanted them to do anything to interfere with events that were going to happen but now he was asking why they hadn’t tried to stop the burnt foot fiasco.

“Oh, I did. At first Michael wouldn’t listen but then he told me he was on his way this morning to stop it and got there too late.”

Apparently having no clue as to what they were talking about except it involved more Michael shenanigans, Gabby returned to the kitchen to retrieve the main dish.

“Well in a way I’m glad he didn’t. We got some classic footage today. He was in rare form. Sorry Dwight had to go through it though, even if it was pretty funny.”

“He’ll be fine in the end. Back at work tomorrow,” she told him. It seems he knew that too; she learned he’d not been the one to make the trip to the hospital, this time it was Matt who went with the trio. But he had heard when Jim called her to share the news which she considerately got to Angela by way of telling Oscar.

Gabby returned and they all sat down to eat, Randall and Pam filling her in on the events in the office that day, their stories only differing in minor details.

“That explains his request for bacon. Of course, it’s no less ridiculous.”

Her eyes tilted to the ceiling for a moment of mocking before returning to her plate.

“Pam, why do you think Michael couldn’t stop his accident this time. Seems like he should have been able to do something to prevent it since he had the foresight of it happening.”

“Gabby, honey, this is Michael we are talking about.”

“Oh, he’s not all that bad. A little impulsive and childish, but not a complete fool.”

“That’s not what you said the other night.”

They all chuckled remembering the words spewing from her mouth as she kicked him out of the apartment, calling him a number of not-so-nice synonyms of the word.

“I’m not really sure,” Pam replied to the original question once the laughter stopped. “It’s the second thing we’ve wanted to change but couldn’t. I’m beginning to wonder if we can. If our being here in the past won’t have any bearing on anything in the future because we can’t change anything since we were already there.”

The words from Pam began a very lively discussion on time travel and the different models that played out in films and literature. She explained again how since they were traveling by way of a Time Turner it was likely to be the same as in Harry Potter, the theory being they had always gone back only they didn’t know they had.

They’d all three read the books, Gabby in particular was well versed in Potter lore so she could discuss salient points with her fourth graders when they brought them up.

“That’s right, Harry saw himself cast the Patronus even in the first version of the events and essentially saved himself,” she chimed in. “Is that what you really think is going on?”

“I guess I can’t be sure. I just know it was after Michael spun the Time Turner that we went back in time.”

With that Randall started to sing the Huey Lewis song that served as the soundtrack for the movie he saw as closer to the experience she was having. He seemed to believe it didn’t matter the method of transport but what they were living through was more like the Back to the Future example, where things could be altered but every little change could have huge consequences so it was best not to mess too much with the past.

“Oh, and what about what Kathleen Turner’s really smart friend said in Peggy Sue got Married.”

She’d seen the movie Gabby was talking about, the one with Nicholas Cage and the aforementioned actress but the line didn’t ring a bell in her mind. Nor could she recall how the time travel in it turned out or remember much about the characters at all. All she remembered of the friend was he wore glasses, was smart and carried a little notebook around just like Pam had done in high school, only his likely had equations and intelligent facts and not useless drawings like hers.

“Time is like a burrito in that it folds over itself and comes around to just touch the other part and you can fill it with anything you want.”

“Gabby, hon, what does that even mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I just always liked that line.”

“I think you just like it because you love Mexican food,” he teased.

“Not just that”, she refuted.  “I thought it sounded so romantic and indicated you could change your destiny. In fact, he even says this to her, the science guy. Change your destiny, and marry me. She doesn’t of course. In fact, if I remember correct, she winds up still with the Nic Cage character, even knowing how unhappy she was in the future.”

Randall smiled knowingly at her. The way he looked at her, she could see how much fun he had with his wife, ribbing her yes, but all in jest. But there was something more there too, like a precious secret that they shared. His eyes sparkled as he bantered with her and the look reminded her a lot of what she’d seen on her own face the night of the booze cruise, only it was when she was with Jim. It was still too bad she hadn’t arrived in time to inspect the nuances on her face when she was with Roy.

“That’s another trope in time travel, the immutable timeline. Less like a burrito and more like a rubber band. You can pull it to make changes but it will always snap back. Eventually time finds a way to course correct and what was temporarily changed happens anyway.”

Pam leaned in to listen as he explained this. It made sense, especially in their office. Had they been able to stop Michael’s accident and therefore Dwight’s concussion, he might still have been injured in another way.

“So, you’re saying if Dwight had been spared today, he might have still driven into the pole on another fool’s errand for Michael.”

“Without a doubt. The way that one drives, I’m surprised it hadn’t happened yet. He’s always peeling off like that and we all know he thinks he’s impervious to injury. Fact, I have superior genes.”

Pam followed Randall’s lead, pumped up her shoulders and put on her best Dwight voice.

“Fact, Schrute bones don’t break.”

“Fact, never been hospitalized even when I was born.”

Gabby had heard plenty about Dwight, but learned a whole lot more as they continued with his most common quips leaving the time travel discussion behind.

««««««««

That night as she lay on her pull-out bed in the office she thought again about the dinner conversation and the time travel models. She still wasn’t sure which version they were experiencing, the one where they could damage the future with their actions or the one where they’d always been back so it made no difference what they did, what happened had happened, or even the one Gabby described, where they could fill their experience with anything, but she was also like Randall in that wasn’t quite sure she understood this one.

However, as she drifted closer and closer to sleep, she kept coming back to the idea they were helpless to change anything. This whole trip back would be for nothing since they wouldn’t be able to stop what was always meant to be.