It was much warmer on their floor, which struck Pam as ironic as they sat waiting below the large blue letters that spelled out refrigeration since the cleaning ladies were still not done in Dunder Mifflin.

After their own clean-up in the warehouse to dispose of the copious amounts of popped bubble-wrap, Michael estimated they'd have completed their job, but when they got back up, this time via the front staircase at his insistence, the duo had still had not left.

Sitting outside the doors of Vance Refrigeration she at least wouldn't find any additional bad news, or freeze, but she would have preferred they come up the back. At least then they could wait in the annex while the pair finished up in the bullpen.

“Tell me again Michael, why didn’t we come back up the way we went down? We could be in the annex waiting for them to leave instead of stuck here in the hallway.”

She tried to convince him as they left the warehouse it was better to go back how they came, but lost. In normal times she might have put up more of an argument but her resistance was all but worn down from the two weeks of dealing with him and everything else that the influence of time travel was dumping on her. What little fight was left in her, she knew she would need for something more consequential than which stairs they took. Reluctantly, she had followed him to the front passageway.

“Ugg no the annex is where Toby's desk is. I try never to go back there. And I like to switch things up. Keeps things exciting.”

“Switching staircases, ooh that’s a wild ride. Plus, things have been plenty exciting since you took us on the time-bending trip don’t you think? I’ve had about all the excitement I can handle.”

And way too much new information, she added to herself.

“What happened to fun Pam, who makes that's what she said jokes and likes Bill Murray movies? Wow, you women and your turn-on-a-nickel moods. Roy must really have to be on his toes around you.”

If cold stares had transformative properties, Michael would have been encased in a block of ice and from the way he sat frozen in place she wasn’t entirely sure her glower didn’t drop the atmospheric temperature to one lower than inside the units that were sold from the office they were seated in front of. 

But as was always the case with Michael, he couldn’t stay still or quiet for long.

“You know Pamerator,” he intoned, his voice shifting on the final syllable of this latest nickname he dubbed her with, pointing to the sign for effect, if his inflection or wink wasn’t enough for her to get his meaning.

“Ever since our lunch the other day, I’ve been wondering something.”

Knowing Michael as she did, Pam braced herself for some ridiculous or invasive question about her home or sex life with Roy.

“With talent with yours why aren’t you doing more with it?”

It was not the question she was expecting and this time Pam was the one stunned into silence. The cold anger, that seconds ago had been radiating from her eyes thawed as they softened, their hostile hue easing from the shade of an overripe avocado to the color of one not yet ready to eat.

Michael, never one to wait out a pregnant pause kept right on talking, his need to fill a silence taking precedence over the plan he had to surprise her.

“Ever since I bought your painting, I’ve been rehearsing this improv piece for when we showed up for our stakeout. I couldn’t do it before in my rush for the bathroom and now waiting on these slow cleaning ladies is ruining the spontaneity of the whole bit.”

Now it was confusion that kept her silent. That, and Michael’s complete incomprehension of how improv and spontaneity worked. She knew to wait for it though, a ridiculous explanation would soon follow.

“So, I had this scheme devised for when we walked into our home away from home. I’d trip and bump into the wall and accidentally knock down that Million Ream Sales plaque that hangs outside my office.”

He rose from his seat on the floor with a flourish, the cue he'd gone into acting mode as he stepped out to stand in front of her.

“Wow, this spot is the perfect place to display the great work of art I just acquired. I want it to be the first thing I see as my workday begins… as our workday begins since here everyone else can see it too. Let it be a message, our inspiration to achieve greatness all day. Let it show everyone who passes it the beauty of our workplace.”

The presentation took on a sermon-like quality as he paced the space opposite where she sat leaning against the wall outside the Vance Refrigeration office. Though her pew was the floor and his pulpit was illusory, the tone of his voice and projection of his speech had her feeling like she was in church listening to her pastor preach the gospel.

“Oh and what's this? Hmm, seems like I’m not the only one that had the marvelous idea to display this brilliant work of art. What does this note say?”

He pretended to take down an imaginary index card from where the pretend plaque had been and read aloud from it. The gestures were over-done and his speech over-emoted, but Pam was still moved to tears by the performance.

“Future home of one Dunder Mifflin building painting by the famous and talented artist, Pam Beesly." 

He adjusted his tone to regular, non-acting Michael to ask in an aside. 

"Do you plan to use your maiden name for your art, or will you go by Anderson?”

The question took her by surprise as she'd never given any thought before to how she might sign any pieces she created. None of what she'd painted had a signature, and right now with how she was feeling about Roy, she didn't want his name anywhere near her creations.

"I'll keep Beesly, I think," she mumbled dropping her head to hide the emotion coming over her face. After the discovery that her card seemed to have little more sentimental value to Roy than a place to jot down football stats, Michael’s praise meant everything.

“So how come?”

Michael kept in his non-performance cadence, yet was still quite expressive, but Pam knew him well enough to tell his show was over. Pulling herself together she took a beat before responding.

“How come what?”

“How come you aren’t doing more with your artistic talents?”

It was a good question, but not one Pam had an answer for.

“I don’t know Michael — I think about it now and then and I have wanted to bring it up with Roy. I do need to talk to him about me doing something more with art, whether it's taking classes or finding a space to do more painting, but it never seems a right time to have that conversation and now with planning a wedding…”

“Talk Schmalk,”

He cut her off and up went the lip again, his role changing but the act back on.

“Honey, talk is cheap.”

What was it with him and Elvis this week? It was the third time he’d brought out the Presley impersonation. Or was she just noticing it more because now it made her think about Randall and Gabby’s incredibly romantic story.

“In the words of the King…” he went on…   

“A little less conversation, a little more action.  Seriously, I could carve out a space for you in my Café Disco where you can paint and put up a little gallery. We could host some pancake breakfasts with the artist.”

Once again, Michael’s words turned her insides to mush causing her to blink back tears from her lashes.

“Serve them up with a little espresso,” he said the word both correct and with a slurred southern drawl.

Despite her attempts to keep them contained, the droplets fell from out of the corners of her eyes as she began to laugh and cry simultaneously.

For once Michael stayed serious, as serious as he could while doing a poor impersonation of the famous pompadour-coiffed entertainer.

“Mark my words little lady, you keep at it and you’ll do very well. I see it very clearly. You have a future to go after if you just never ever, ever give up.”

Another time she might have scoffed at Michael. Any other day, the idea he could predict the future would have been as comical as the performance art he had wanted to stage for her on their way back into the office. Today was not that day.

Considering how he made her feel with his admiration and his surprisingly sage advice she couldn’t bring herself to full out ridicule him.

Besides, he seemed to have had some kind of magic to make the Time Turner work, who’s to say he didn’t also share Trelawney’s power to see prophecies.

Still, she couldn’t help but to respond with a small wisecrack to mask her effusive emotion.

“Well thank you, Nostradamus! I certainly hope you are right.”

“Who’s Nostradamus? I was being Elvis.”

Pam had to chomp down on the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing, ultimately failing to keep the guffaws contained as Michael began rubber leg thrusting and almost fell down. When he regained his balance, he turned to look out for the cleaning crew.

“Man, aren’t they done yet? I’m suddenly craving a peanut butter and banana sandwich.”

As if cued by his announcement, the sound of the door opening and the women's chatter chased them back to the stairwell where they watched as the two exited into the elevator. Once gone Michael and Pam made their way back to Dunder Mifflin where Michael beelined for the kitchen again, this time to make his sandwich.

With no bananas to be found, Michael had to settle for a plain PB&J which Pam joined him in having, and even indulged in a second with him upon his suggestion. It took almost two weeks but she was at last figuring out the correlation between the intensity of their experiences and their hunger. The more stimulating, stirring, or otherwise extreme the circumstance, the hungrier she felt afterward. With all the ping-ponging emotions she felt over the last hour, first finding the card and the book, the condom and the note, bringing relief and a touch of disgust, then her disappointment after Michael revealed what had been written on the back and finally the tug on her heart as he spoke to her about her art and her future, it was no wonder she still wanted to raid the refrigerator even after the two sandwiches but settled on the popcorn they eventually programmed the microwave to pop.

“You know I predicted this?”

Where before the gibe was her own defense mechanism kicking in, here it was Jim's influence on her that made her respond so sardonically. In its way, his sarcastic wit had been rubbing off on her ever since her friendship with him began.

“What did you predict this time, Jeanne Dixon?”

Perhaps this other fortuneteller, he might be familiar with.

The confusion written on his face said he didn’t but it didn’t stop him from sharing his prophecy.

“Remember back when we were throwing that surprise party for Meredith? I was talking through some ideas to put in her card and I said something like Meredith had a little lamb. Don't bring that lamb to work or it'll poop on the floor.”

This was even more ridiculous than his rehearsing improv.

“Come to think of it, I think I was the one to plant the idea in Packer’s head. I betcha he has my office bugged. First thing when we get back to our time, you’ve gotta get Sadiq in here to do a sweep of the place.”

“Um I’m not sure that would be something he’s qualified to do.”

“Of course it is. Not only is he tech support, but he’s probably a spy too.”

Pam didn’t even bother to answer as she walked out of the kitchen before the sweet feeling she was having for Michael was neutralized by his tendency to stereotype everyone and his outright absurdity.

From out of the conference room, Pam retrieved the three-shelved cart with the DVD player and television and wheeled it out to situate in front of the couch at the entrance. Michael followed a few minutes later with the popcorn. Not knowing when Packer would show up to cut their movie marathon short, sometime before midnight Pam could only hope, had Michael whining to choose the first one they watched.  

"No Michael, I don't want to watch Tommy Boy."

"Yet again," she muttered under her breath since she had seen it more than a few times with Roy and had no desire to sit through it again with Michael.

He only pouted a minute before finding the Harry Potter DVD in the stack of blue Blockbuster cases she'd piled on the bottom shelf.

"This one has the Time Turner and the Dementors?" he asked holding it up so she could see the title on the case of the spine.

Pam nodded and settled herself down with the bowl of popcorn, knowing from the lift of his brow and the little sparkle in his eye, he deemed it an acceptable alternative.

From where they sat side by side on the gray couch, she could see the spot on the wall that currently was home to the plaque featuring various salesmen’s names. But she knew that behind it, taped there, was a card that reserved the space for her artwork to be hung as soon as they returned to their own time. He’d made a point to slide the plaque to the side to show her a peek of it before he sat down himself.

It was that small card that kept her from being annoyed with him as he asked endless questions even after the FBI warning and previews were over and the movie got underway. That same item kept her irritation at bay as he got way too comfortable and close to her on the moderate size couch and spilled the popcorn on her more than once, every time he jumped out of his seat from the appearance of the dementors or boggarts in the form of giant spiders.

The card wasn't a panacea. It was hard to completely forget all the ways he could get under her skin, even from before this latest time-bending stunt, but she’d come a long way from how livid she’d been when he dragged her back in time. Then dragged her onto the boat. Then got himself, and almost her too, booted from Randall’s.

But in the two weeks since then, while trapped with him in this other dimension, she gained a better understanding and closeness to him than in all the years she’d been working as his receptionist and intermittent babysitter.

Never before had she had the opportunity to witness his vulnerability, or feel his loneliness, or get a sense of the genuinely kind heart he had. It was only through this experience she was able to observe how he saw the best in his people and wanted to inspire them to achieve greatness all while still showing them a fun time while doing it. It was only through the intimate moments they had on the boat, at the library, the ice-skating rink and during their lunches, out and at her home, that she came to see more than just the immaturity and idiocy that until now she’d thought were his most defining traits. She knew now, he was so much more than he seemed.

Randall and his wife Gabby may have been supportive throughout her strange journey but it was Michael who had become like a father figure. In truth, it wasn't that he'd become one, but rather always was one, believing in her and caring for her in his unique way. She just never truly noticed it before now. Granted, it was hard to see below all the masks he wore and beyond the childish behaviors that overshadowed his more admirable qualities.

She still had no idea what was going to happen when they caught back up in time, if the things they were experiencing in this reality would stay with them or all that they’d come to know here would no longer exist, since logic said there could only be one timeline and one set of memories.

She hoped she’d remember it. It would be a shame to lose this gift of closeness and the special bond they created over this time. She decided she wouldn’t forget. She would find a way to lock it in her brain and make it part of her, of them. In their future, they would remain as close as they were at this moment while watching Harry Potter during their Packer Patrol. It didn’t mean she wouldn’t still get annoyed or lose her patience with him. She knew he would still find ways to make her crazy but now she would try to view it with a different attitude, with the tolerance usually reserved for family and close friends.

She didn’t expect she would need to call up that sort of patience again quite so soon, but she found it hard not to when she realized he had fallen asleep. After all his excitement about the stakeout and his insistence that more coffee wasn't necessary, he was too pumped about the movie marathon to be tired, there he was, out like a light, head back, mouth agape, a trickle of drool leaking out from the side and down to his chin.

It should have been obvious that he'd nodded off when the millions of questions stopped, but as the film was up to the part where Hermione revealed her own Time Turner, she was so focused on it, she just assumed he was too. And frankly she hadn't noticed his silence until a guttural splutter coming from his deep in his throat broke it and got louder with each subsequent inhalation he unconsciously took. 

She's not sure why this irritated her so much. She'd become practiced at sleeping through all kinds of snorts and snores and noises that made jackhammers sound like they played music, while Roy slept off his most rowdy nights. But as with Roy, it was easier to sleep through the cacophony versus sitting awake listening to it. And just the fact Michael was sleeping already and not conscious and alert to keep watch for Packer's arrival was enough for her to want to send him flying off the couch with an aggressive shove, but she held back and only gave him an enthusiastic nudge.

But her enthusiasm had a little more punch behind than she intended, and he went down just the same, violently, like a branch that snapped off a tree in a wind storm.

The thud of the impact resounded with an alarming crunch as he came in contact with the ground. But it was soon drowned out by a deafening explosion of memories that suddenly roared inside her head. They came on like two movies, each at maximum volume, playing in her head, using the same screen, yet she was able to see them both as if through the surface of one another, while one more played in the theater next door that she could hear too.

Where once she had a distinct set of recollections for each one of the Pams that lived through the past two weeks, she could no longer distinguish between the two as her mind became a jumbled mess of remembrances and experiences, creating what was in essence a third timeline made up of changes that occurred ever since she and Michael showed up again in their recent past.

Some were small nuances, tiny shifts in what she knew from before, like when she found her coat on the ground that first day and her momentary confusion about how it got there, displaced by the measure of guilt she felt as she and Jim both reached down to pick it up, the brush of his hand on hers causing an illicit stirring inside of her. It wasn't new, that tingle she sometimes felt from his touch, but before now she hadn't remembered it as part of that day.

It was a weird sensation, like everything new had happened to someone else but she knew that someone was her. She was watching the scenes unfold from outside her own body instead of within it, but it didn’t feel dreamlike or unreal.

As the stream of new visions flooded her brain, she glanced to Michael to see if he was having a similar rush of memories take over his.  From the way he shot up from where he crashed to the ground, she knew he was.

Something in the way his face contorted and how he cradled his head in his hands told her his new memories were as numerous and pervasive as hers.

Not everything she newly remembered was drastic. The previously unexperienced elevator ride with Kelly, where she went on and on about her secret crush on Ryan wasn't life-altering, even if it was exasperating. And the library book Jim returned for her saved her some pocket change and provided some laughs as he told her about his call with the librarian named Bookbinder.

But some things she remembered seemed to exist with a paradoxical layer surrounding them, in that she recalled feeling like she was losing her mind searching high and low for bras and a sweater she had no idea where they could have disappeared to, but combined with the knowledge of where they actually had gone made perfect sense.

It was the incidents with Roy that rattled her the most. The accident they almost were in was scary enough, but it was his road rage that left her in tears as she thought how quickly he could go from mild irritation to absolute fury. She’d seen him get angry before but there was something about the intensity that day that raised the red flag higher up the pole.  Maybe it was seeing it from this outside view that made it seem worse than it really had been.

Then there were the fights, the one about the missing cash and the more upsetting one about her lost and found earring. But he had been right about the money. She had taken it, even if she didn’t know she did because it was another version of herself and even if it was sort of his fault for not taking it out from his pockets like she’d asked him to do a million times.

As for the fight that happened just a few hours before, at least she had stuck up for herself and hadn’t let him see her cry. Maybe she’d made him see things from her point of view and he felt bad for the way he reacted. He was asleep when she came out from the bathroom. She couldn’t know he wouldn’t apologize in the morning since her morning hadn’t happened yet. It wasn’t likely, but nothing was impossible, especially in this weird, new double life she was living.

At least, she knew she still had both earrings, or did she? They may now be split across two dimensions and more than ever she wasn’t sure those two would ever come back together because clearly something radical had occurred when Michael fell off the couch.

“What just happened?” he asked as he released his hands from his ears.

“I don’t know, but it can’t be good.”

Slowly he reached down into his pocket and withdrew the Time Turner.

“There was no bubble wrap protecting it this time.”

She never imagined he would still have it on him. She figured he’d tucked it away into a drawer or his armoire but it had been on him all this time, on the side that hit the ground when he crashed to the floor.

Taking a closer glance Pam could see the damage the fall had caused. By and large, the trinket looked the same as when she first saw it when Jim showed it to her, but an outer ring where the inscription was etched had cracked and broke apart.

This wasn’t his fault. If anything, it was her own. Keeping it on his person made the most sense and it was her shove that send him down, crushing the piece when he landed. It was obvious the break to the Time Turner had affected something in the time space continuum and how they were experiencing their dual lives.

Things inside her head seemed quiet again an indication they were caught up to the current time and with their other selves sleeping there was nothing new to remember. But what was going to happen when morning came, would the tumultuous fusion of new and old memories begin again?

More importantly was the damage going to affect their ability to become single beings upon arriving at the date they went back. They had never known for sure that they would, but always assumed it would occur largely as it had in the Harry Potter movie they’d just been watching. But the Time Turner wasn’t broken in that version of the story.

“We need to try to fix this,” she insisted as she took the ornament from his hands, inspecting the extent of the crack to the exterior ring. Thankfully, the most essential part, the glass hourglass in the center was unharmed. The separated circle was nothing a little super glue wouldn’t be able to repair. 

And lucky for them, she knew just where to find some.

The prank Jim played on Dwight a few weeks back, only required a drop of the stuff. The tube left over, after he successfully and permanently depressed the Operator button on his phone, she distinctly remembered him stashing in his middle drawer.

“I think Jim has some in his desk,” she uttered to Michael as she wandered over to her friend’s workspace.

“Has some what?”

“Glue,” she answered as she pulled open the drawer feeling slightly guilty going through it, even more than she had going through Roy’s. But this was a desperate situation where she was not quite snooping. She was only trying to fix what was broken and set things back on track again.

The glue wasn’t all she found.

Inside the drawer, there was a toy snake and the box of crayons he’d once replaced all Dwight’s pens with, some extra staples, rubber bands and...

piles and piles of her doodles...

There was a rainbow of them, post-it notes of orange, pink, blue and yellow, all adorned with silly caricatures and other drawings designed to make him laugh during the long days they spend at Dunder Mifflin. From the amount of colored paper piled up in the space, it seemed like he had saved every one she ever gave him.

She could no longer say she wasn't snooping, but she couldn’t help herself as she shuffled through them all. She even found the one she first made for him, the one on pure white, the full sheet drawing displaying the words ‘Welcome to Dunder Mifflin’ across the top and ‘do not feed the wildlife’ along the bottom and featured animals with the heads of their co-workers scattered around the page.

Seeing all of them was like opening the teapot all over again and taking numerous trips back into her past. Each little doodle was like a silver wisp set afloat into the magical Pensieve, the memories as vivid while she viewed them now as back when she first drew them for him. With each one she examined, she felt a bolt of joy explode inside her, until she came upon a sealed envelope with Pam written across it.

“Did you find the glue?”

Michael was suddenly right behind her, jolting her back to the present, or at least the present she was in, but not before she came to the realization of what Jim had been trying to tell her with all the teapot goodies. It was not so different from what he’d been trying to say with his silence on the boat, what she half overheard him later tell Michael, further confirmed by the pile of doodles tucked away here for years. She could only imagine what was spelled out explicitly in a still sealed envelope with her name written and underlined on the outside.

Shaking, she slammed closed the drawer and turned to hand Michael the glue.

“Uh yeah, here.”

She left it with him and ran off for the bathroom, hoping to get there before the tears fell and before Michael could notice them.

As soon as the door shut behind her, her body went limp as she melted down to the ground, becoming a lump on the floor much like the one that sat in her throat.

It was too much.  The warehouse and the locker, the condom and the book, the card on the floor and the one on the wall, the broken Time Turner and post-it notes and whatever was in that envelope in Jim’s desk. All of it was all piling up and spilling out and affecting the balance she spent so long and worked so hard to maintain.

Despite reflexively thumbing the scale, which she realized she'd been doing for years, it wasn't enough to keep all the weight of the recent days from tipping the other side down. And yet, she still felt paralyzed, locked into the life she had settled on when she put on Roy's jersey and posed for the photo that still hung in his locker.

Wracked with the tears that had been building for almost two weeks, these were different from the ones she’d cried when thought Roy cheated or the ones she only just learned she’d cried when he nearly ran the driver off the road or they fought about the earring. They were a little closer to the droplets she shed after Michael bought her painting and again when he showed her where he planned to hang it, but still they felt different even from those. What fell from her eyes was the joy of knowing she was cherished, not by Roy but by Jim, but with that joy came the fear that her whole life was meant to change, had to change, and she still didn’t know if she had the strength to make it happen no matter how much she wanted it to.

A part of her wanted to leave right now, take Michael with her and let Packer go ahead and show up to deposit his foulness on the carpet so tomorrow would stay as it was, the version of life she already knew and was resigned to live out. When Friday came around, she’d figure out a way to stop the time loop, head off Jim at the downstairs door making it so he wouldn’t be able to bring the Time Turner up to a place where Michael had any chance of getting hold of it.

Once she blocked that event she could just continue on as she had been doing for years. She could pretend none of this ever happened.  If Michael was the only other person who knew about their journey to this altered past, she was sure she could convince him he dreamed it all, then five months from now she could still marry Roy and find some contentment in the sporadic moments of genuine happiness with him.

But he wasn’t the only one who knew they were here changing the course of episodic events at Dunder Mifflin and in their lives. Randall and Gabby knew too, but neither knew about what was supposed to happen tonight setting off the events of tomorrow. Letting it occur and then denying she had any knowledge of it or the time travel would set everything back to the status quo. Randall himself had said he was put on medical leave the last time he witnessed time travelers. She was pretty sure he’d stay quiet too. It would mean having to pretend she knew nothing of his wife, thereby losing the friendship she found in Gabby but what else could she do to get back to the way things were. Maybe in the future, she could find a way to get him to reveal that she exists and find a reason they could meet in real life.

It would have to be a plan for another time. Right now she was too busy thinking about what would happen tomorrow, as things had been after they discovered what Packer had done, before they knew it was him who had done it. It was a pretty crazy day but the thing that stood out most was how much she missed Jim when he was forced off into the annex.  How even though Roy had been upstairs the whole time, the day still felt wrong and defective. In that version, they hadn't had a fight the night before. In fact, they had just come back from an enjoyable vacation, so that the day still felt off, not right, broken, should have told her something.

She finally understood what that something was.

After what she'd come to learn in the two weeks she just relived, it was no longer possible to downplay exactly what it was that Jim felt for her.

But more than that, it was getting harder and harder for her to deny what she felt for him.

And in two more days she would have to deal with it, because who was she fooling, she wasn’t going anywhere tonight except back out to the bullpen to wait for Packer to show up so they could send him away.

In less than 48 hours, she would have to see Jim again, this version of herself. The one that knew about the doodles and the way he looked after she left him on the boat and the things he said to Michael. This version, who could no longer lock away and deny the feelings inside of her but still didn’t know what to do with them.

What's more they were heading into the unknown. Tomorrow would be the first day that things would veer dramatically from what they once were and it would be all new to both Pam and Michael, both Pams and both Michaels. All Pam knew right now was that Jan would be coming in to do a Women in the Workplace seminar, as the need to cancel it at the last minute would no longer exist. Everything after that, including what a Women in the Workplace seminar was, was anyone’s guess.

It was too much to think about, the broken Time Turner that still needed fixing, getting rid of Packer, her desire to make a career with her art skills, the uncertainty about her future with Roy and if she could go on with the wedding that was being planned, the unknown days ahead but most of all, the tug, no yank on her heart from a man that was not her fiancé, but treated her better than he ever did.

Where could she even begin?

Of course, a list.

It was how she always dealt when she got overwhelmed. She would make a list and start with the easy stuff. She knew the harder to face items would still be there, but as more of the items written down were exed out, it would seem easier to confront the unfaceable.

Pulling herself together, she raised herself up from the ground and left the bathroom, nearly crashing into Michael who was waiting on the other side of the door.

“You okay kiddo? I was worried.”

“Yeah Michael, I’m fine I just needed a few minutes to process. Now I need a …”

Before she could finish her sentence, her stomach let out one of its monster grumbles.

“Sandwich,” Michael answered for her.

She nodded in agreement and nudged Michael back to the bullpen, nervous to leave the door unattended. Instead of another PB&J, she grabbed a yogurt from the fridge, a spoon from the drawer, took a deep breath and rejoined him.

«««««««

Pull yourself together.

Eat Something.

Fix the Time Turner.

Un-superglue Michael’s hand from the desk. 

Get rid of Packer

Get back to current time

Make a final decision about who and what you want

Pursue something with art

Pam looked down at the list.

It felt good to have almost as much crossed off as there was to tackle, even if what she’d managed were just the easy tasks. Well, except for the fourth item, only inserted after she'd took eyes off him a second and turned back to find her list had one more item to attend to.

Even after finding nail polish remover among Kelly’s many grooming supplies it was still a bit of a challenge, making the line she wrote through it that much more satisfying.

The next one, getting rid of Packer, she anticipated being able to mark off within the next few hours. The tricky part was doing it without Packer seeing her here with Michael and assuming they were having a secret romance.

That left only three to carry out.

One was out of her hands. She still had no idea if the damage to the Time Tuner would have prevented their reunification in a few days, however she and Michael managed to glue the outer ring back together. With their alternate selves still fast asleep in the other timeline, it was unknown if the additional memories had stopped, but as for the Time Turner, it seemed back to its former state.

It was the one after that on the list she was struggling to wrap her head around.

Despite all that she’d seen and everything she’d heard, including the chants from within her own heart, she wasn’t able to fully shut the door on what she had with Roy.

She’d traveled so long and so far on that path she felt obligated to stay the course, even in the face of all the signs pulling her in another direction.

Yet, with every pull on her heart, from Jim, from Michael, from the universe in general, it was getting harder not to want to explore where another path might lead her, not only in love but in all the parts of her life.

All her life she’d looked out for signs, anomalies from the routine, chance happenings that she believed pointed her to what was meant to be. Like finding her blue earring after so much time, or returning to relive the day Roy finally set the date. But the earring was lost again almost as soon as she found it and reliving the boat trip meant having to once again face what was she had been intentionally blind to the first time around.

Then there was finding Jim’s yearbook photo while back at her house, and what were the chances she would need to go searching in his drawer for glue on their stakeout. Couldn’t that also be construed as the universe directing her to find the all the doodles he saved.

Maybe there weren't signs. Maybe it was all just chance events that meant nothing more than they happened when they happened. None of what she’d seen was flashing in neon and so eminent there could be no doubt.

A sign that monumental she would know instantly. It would leave her with no choice but to act. Her fate would be out of her hands as divine intervention led her to her true heart and home.

She was fairly certain that kind of enlightenment was not going to present itself tonight.

»»»»»»»»

It was hard to stop thinking about them all, but somehow she left all her anxieties and worries on the list she'd made and joined Michael in their makeshift movie theater for the second feature.

Packer showed up just as Bill Murray was driving himself and Punxsutawney Phil off a cliff, just after one AM, reeking of alcohol and so tanked-up he didn’t even question what Pam and Michael were still doing there though he did become somewhat belligerent when Michael told him he had to leave again and couldn’t drive himself home.

Pulling Michael aside, but keeping her eyes trained on Packer for any sudden motion, she began to whisper vehemently that he was the boss, he needed to stand up to him, falling silent as she noticed the balding ass stagger over to where they stood outside his office, unbuckling his belt while he did as if he had no intent on letting their presence keep him from the dropping off package he had come to deposit.

Averting her eyes as his trousers dropped, she pushed Michael towards him and when he alone couldn't direct the giant oaf to the men's room, she assisted in guiding Packer through the kitchen door and into the bathroom.

They stood guard outside the door and discussed next steps.

Pam agreed he was in no condition to drive and wanted to call for a cab, not keen on the idea of staying behind at Dunder Mifflin alone. Michael insisted on driving him home personally.

“Really Michael, even knowing what he was here to do, you still care enough to drive him home yourself.”

Michael began to pace the section between the bathroom doors. 

“Well, I can’t let him drive and I’m not sure he won’t if I don’t take him,” he spoke with reservation as he made his way back to her a first time.

Pam knew he was right about that. Seems Packer had already driven to the office in the state he was in, making her hate him even more for the others his drunk driving put at risk. Michael was not wrong in wanting to keep him from doing it again.

“You could take his keys and put him into the taxi.”

Under her breath she added, "and while you’re at it take away his key to the office. Why does that buffoon even have a key when I don’t?"

He seemed not to hear the last part as he was back on his second trip past the closet between the restrooms to his pivot point at the ladies. Spinning on his heel when he got there, he made his way back, his response much more resolute this time.

“That’s not what a friend does. A friend goes the extra step, makes the extra effort.”

Again, he was right. Jim proved that to her every day with things he would do for her. Like always asking her if she needed anything on his trips to the breakroom or kitchen and skipping part of his own lunch to return her library book. When she struggled with the copier, he was often quick to her side to help clear the jams, even after ruining a shirt or two early on when the cuffs became stained with explosive ink. Ever since, he began his work day with rolled up sleeves ready to go to war with the machine alongside her when it revolted.

Even after their rare fights, he was always the one who took the first step to make things right, sometimes with Sunchips in her favorite flavor and sometimes with an actual apology.

But Pam never shit on his carpet, or did anything even close to that awful, even if she was now keenly aware of what it took for him to be a good friend while wanting to be more than that.

“Yeah, well I guess I don’t see how Packer is worthy of your friendship.”

Packer, who had just returned from the men’s room, his package left in the proper place in this altered timeline, belched loudly, the smell of beer and his sweat offending Pam’s nose even from where he stood two feet away. In an effort to escape it she exited for the bullpen, leaving Michael to at least get some coffee and food into Packer. But instead, they followed her out, arguing still about the driving arrangements.

“Okay you nerds. If you’re still not going to let me drive, who’s taking me home? Pam, I know you want to see my pad.”

He stumbled closer to them, tripping on the desk chair in his path which he planted himself into as he mumbled, “I know I’d like to see your pads.”

Pam glared at Michael as if the words came from his mouth instead of Packers, grabbing his arm and pulling him aside again.

“I’ll admit, he can be rude and a handful sometimes but we have fun when he’s not being a jerk. We have this history and he’s the only best friend I’ve ever known.”

“In my opinion, you put up with a lot for that friendship.

“Yeah, I know, but it's like no matter how awful he can be—I don’t know how to not be his friend anymore. There’s something unexplainable keeping me tied to him, something I’m not sure how to break.”

Pam couldn’t see what was so hard about telling someone who didn’t treat him the way he should be treated to take a hike, no matter what their history. But it was late, she was too tired, and she didn’t have room on her list to add teaching Michael how to get out of a bad relationship to it.

She waved her hand as if to say go ahead. She hated the idea of sleeping in the office alone but knew there was no use arguing anymore.

Pam walked back to the reception couch while Michael grabbed his coat out from under Pam’s, leaving hers on her desk chair. After helping Packer back into his, the two of them made their way to the front door.

Michael ducked his head back in as Packer continued to the elevator.

“I’ll be back early to get you before anyone else shows up. I promise.”

Pam knew he wouldn’t but it was just as well. She had a nagging feeling she was going to be stuck at Dunder Mifflin tomorrow, hiding out from everyone including herself, which would be strange but perhaps necessary with a brand new, unexperienced day about to happen. She didn’t know why but something told her it was important that she witness it.