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Author's Chapter Notes:

I had a rough go with a section of this chapter for reasons I can’t get into now. But there’s no turning back now for Pam or for me. Heading into the home stretch.

It’s another longer chapter and I considered breaking it in two, thus the two chapter titles, but decided against it in the end. There’s a marker where the chapter would have split if you choose to read in shorter bursts.

As much as she wanted to take what she needed to grieve over the end of her near ten-year relationship, there was no more time for it. By the time she’d made it to the bathroom on the third floor, found it locked and traveled back down to the rarely used one off the lobby she’d long surpassed the allotment of time she granted herself for shedding tears.

Even as they filled her eyes while she climbed up and down through the stairwells, trickling wet remnants of mourning for the good memories with Roy onto the steps, the droplets staining her cheeks and the floor alike didn’t supply the cathartic release she thought she needed. To completely remove all regrets from out of her system she was convinced she would have to stop, sit and bawl, preferably someplace private, like in a restroom stall.

The only other public bathroom she knew of in the building sat at the end of the hall from the main entrance. Being just a hair larger than a broom closet, it didn’t have stalls. Inside was a free-standing, rust-stained toilet and a trail of exposed pipes running floor to ceiling. She suspected they were one and the same to the ones that fed water to the room where she showered this morning. On the back of the door was a flimsy barrel bolt that didn’t quite lock.

She’d been in worse. At Nick’s Taven, for one where the toilet was always clogged and the floor was always sticky. This seemed clean at least, so she ducked in, needing a minute or so more for catharsis.

But once inside the faint smell of mildew and overall ick factor in the small room were enough to rush her through her cleansing cry.  That and a quick glance at her watch which revealed how close it was to Michael’s post-lunch visit to the much nicer restroom on their floor.

Unsure what color the water might be, she turned on the faucet, happy to discover it too ran clear despite the ancient pipes. After letting it warm up for a moment, she cupped her hands to form a makeshift basin, sluicing her face with the tepid water that hadn’t yet escaped through her fingers to the slow drain below. A look up at the film-covered mirror reflected a hazy image but when she turned to grab the stiff brown towels from the metal dispenser, the silver surface revealed a faint smile and a green glow in her eyes. She recognized what she saw in the face of the distorted effigy staring back at her. It was the look of freedom, mingled with relief and anticipation.

It was the anticipation that jogged her mind again to the schedule that had gotten off track. Time running out, she slowly pushed open the door, scanning the entrance for anyone other than the guard, whose name escaped her again despite Michael mentioning it just the other night.

The window was closing to make a call when the other Michael wouldn’t answer. At least she hoped he would not pick up. Anything was possible with him, but in all his talk of taking care of that business, he claimed to like to do it without interruption. It's why for this specific visit to the facilities, he usually left his phone in his jacket and his jacket at his desk. She prayed this wasn’t the one instance where he would deviate from his routine.

Never in a million years had she thought she would be glad to know the exact times Michael went, until today. She just hoped Randall remembered to meet him outside the bathroom. And that Dwight wasn’t creeping around in the kitchen like an obsessed fan waiting to descend his idol as he emerged from backstage after the show.

The lobby clear of anyone else, she made her way to the security desk up front and asked the guard politely if she might use the phone to make a call. Turning it out to face her, he even lifted the receiver and pressed the nine three times, she assumed to secure an outside line, his telecom system even older than the one they still used at Dunder Mifflin. Pam nodded her thanks and he went back to his newspaper, only looking up at her with the glimmer of suspicion as she began to speak with a heavy accent, pushing not paper to the person on the other end of the call, but a diet pill. But he was back to his reading before she even completed her pitch, revealing himself to be relatively uninterested and unfazed by her conversation. She supposed between Michael and Dwight and all the crazy happenings in this building, he’d seen, heard and even smelled it all. Thinking back to the time he called up to tell her someone from their office had a manure shipment dropped off and whoever that was needed to come down at once and get it out of his lobby.

She was sure then he knew just who the shit belonged to, if not Dwight's name. For all she knew now, he might also be well aware of the time travel now and the multiple versions of her and Michael.

When finished with her call, she set the receiver back on its cradle and expressed her thanks in a normal voice.

“Make a sale?” The watchman looked up again from his reading wearing the same vague expression as before, like he knew what just went down but was more concerned with the discounted items at Wegman’s, the newspaper opened to a spread highlighting the week’s specials.

“Um yeah, I hope so.”

She pushed the phone back toward him.

“Um, well thanks…”

She paused, searching her memory again for his name.

“Hank,” he helped her out pointing to the tag on his chest, leaving her a bit more confused since it read Tate.

She supposed it was his last name or maybe she hadn’t quite heard him correctly and so she repeated it back to him. It might come in handy at some point to know the man’s name, therefore she wanted to be sure she had it right.

“Thanks again, Hank.”

“You’re very welcome, Miss Beesly.”

Pam smiled up at him, a little ashamed that aside from flashing him the occasional nod or offering a half hearty greeting on the way in, she’d never made an effort to know or even learn the name of the man who was there to keep them safe. Meanwhile he seemed to be well aware of hers.  

Walking sheepishly away from Hank, Pam looked down at her now bare finger again. With nothing to twist, time to wait and a whole slew of emotions swirling inside her she expected tears to resurface but her eyes stayed dry.

The sadness she felt earlier was all but gone, what filled her mind now was getting through the rest of the day and getting back to her old, new self or her new, old self or whatever she would be when time caught up to itself. Whichever it was, she would begin it a little lighter without the crushing weight of his ring on her finger, but that made her remember there was still a Pam wearing it and that made her wonder what was to happen now that Roy and Pam each had one of the rings.

In less than four hours she would find out, which also reminded her the next part of the plan was about to forge ahead so she needed to find to a place to hide that had a clear view of the exit to see herself leave to retrieve her Michael.   

««««««

“Of course, Hogwarts isn’t a real place,” Dwight stated in his usual and obnoxiously overconfident manner. “She would never use the true name of the wizarding academy in her books. The actual place has a much more impressive name.”

Turning to face Randall and the camera that was focused on him he added, “I just haven’t figured out what it is yet.

Randall hated to leave in the middle of the debate Jim and Dwight were having but he promised Pam he’d be waiting for Michael outside the bathroom. He swung his camera around to where her other version sat blissfully unaware of what the rest of her day would entail before shifting the lens back to capture Jim’s subtle smirk.

The footage, he knew he wouldn’t get to use at all, but was still highly amused watching Jim intentionally rile up an insistent Dwight, especially knowing it all was in preparation for the repeat attempt of one of his more clever pranks. One that hadn’t technically gotten off the ground the first time but even if it had, Randall wouldn’t have been there to witness because it was to have occurred in the future. The reason he even knew that’s what this was, aside from his having a pretty solid grasp on Jim’s behavior as it pertained to his interactions with his deskmate, was because he knew about it from Pam. She'd let it slip it was Jim who first purchased the Time Turner that wound up cloning her and Michael and dropping duplicates of them into the space in time where he caught their other versions sneaking around.

Still, it felt a bit like Déjà vu as he watched the set up, and though it likely would never happen now, he felt like he could remember the event as if it did. But if all went according to Pam’s plan, Jim would be too preoccupied later to follow through on it.

Reluctantly, he left his post behind their desk pod and arrived in the kitchen just in time to greet Michael coming from the bathroom.

“Michael, hey can I get you for a talking head?”

“Always happy to share words of wisdom with you Randall. Where do you want to do this thing, in the hall or back in my headquarters?”

“Actually, I’ve got someplace else in mind. Follow me.”

“Um okay, let me just get my jacket from my office.”

“Never mind that Michael, you don’t need it. This way.”

»»»»»»»»

Pam sat quietly at her desk alternating her focus between her bare hand and Jim, who was too busy arguing with Dwight about Harry Potter and Hogwarts to notice her stare. Or if he did, he was still not ready to forget their fight from yesterday.

Every so often she looked over to check where Randall was pointing his camera, happy to find it was still trained on the guys and he wasn’t catching her fiddling with the finger where her ring normally sat.

The hand cream had long since soaked in and yet she hadn’t put the ring back on, trying on for size what it felt like without having there.

It felt strange not to have it to play with and twist as she tried to think what to say to him to make things right again but only because she needed something else to do with her hands. She began to pick at her nails, peeling off the nearly nude shade of nail polish that she only just applied on the day before she left the Poconos. She hardly ever wore it but on the last day of vacation she didn’t feel like skiing and decided instead to drop into the hotel salon. Upon reading the prices, she told herself they did not have money in the budget for her to treat herself, not with the wedding five months away. As a consolation, she picked up a small tube of Nivea and a bottle of Essie from the nearby Walgreens and gave herself a DIY spa treatment in the room. She knew she would never look quite as polished and professional as Jan always did, but for the seminar on her first day back at least her nails could.

It wasn’t fair to say it was Jan’s woman session that caused everything in her world to chip away much like the polish on her fingers. It was only that was when she had finally taken notice of how badly her life needed a manicure.

««««««

“What is this place?”

Just as the time traveling Pam had assured him he would, when Randall brought the non-time traveling Michael downstairs to the oversized storage closet he immediately metamorphosed from a grown adult to a wide-eyed child. But the reaction he witnessed felt different from his usual transformation from man to man-child. Here it was even more dramatic, like Michael was a kid given a 2000-piece Lego set, complete with power packs and wheels and gears that combined with an inspired imagination, could be used to construct a masterpiece.

“It’s a spare room the crew discovered when we first scoped out your office.”

It wasn’t quite true but what did it matter when Michael was barely listening to him as he paced around the perimeter, his eyes agog and doing a little dance as he took in the room. The excitement he displayed like that of a youth left alone in an unattended toy store or Willy Wonka’s factory.

“I could do so many things with this room.”

“Like what Michael?”

“I could get one of those projector things and a cushy couch. This could be the new home of Movie Mondays…or no, I could bring in some exercise equipment and make a fitness center for my guys. Mmm hmm, I get to see Ryan pumping iron.” 

Pam’s plan was working. She’d said he’d become instantaneously fascinated and start running through all the possibilities for the empty space.

“Look,” he said turning the handle on the rusty old shower to find it worked.

“It’s even got a shower here so you can wash up after an extreme workout. I’d have to get some really tall boxes to make a fort around it for privacy but there’s got to be plenty of them down in the warehouse.”

He started for the door. Going for boxes in the warehouse was not part of Pam’s strategy. Randall would have to think fast to keep the flight on course. Good thing Pam had also revealed the idea Michael landed when he discovered the room coming back to the office after being exiled from Randall’s home with Gabby. It was a bit soon to lead him right there but it was the only move he could think of.

“It’s got great acoustics, too. Imagine a disco ball and a high-quality speaker system.”

Since they were essentially the same guy, planting just the smallest germ of the idea surely would get him on track for plotting out the Café Disco that the other Michael had settled on.

“Right here, an expresso machine and daily donuts.” Michael stood by the back wall measuring space out with his hands and paced feet.

“Oh yeah, donuts would be a hit.”

As much as this was all just to keep him occupied, Randall could get on board with all day donuts. Plus, the Dunder Mifflin employees dancing would provide some classic footage. After what he’d seen of Michael’s moves on the boat, he too was getting giddy imagining the possibilities when the whole staff was pumped up on caffeine and sugar while showing off theirs.

“And its espresso Michael.”

“That’s what I said, expresso.”

“No Michael, there’s no…” Randall began but soon changed his tune. There was no reason to get into it unless he wanted to spend the next 15 minutes giving a spelling lesson.

“Never mind… Tell you what, you stay here and think of what you want to do with the room and I’ll come back in about a half hour and you’ll talking head me your full vision for this spot.”

New Pam—now with two versions he had to keep watch for he kept them straight in his head with elucidatory tags— had been right about his reaction so far. There was no reason to think it he wouldn’t spend the next 30 minutes or more down here in the small room making his own plan for how to best utilize it. Just in case, upon closing the door behind him as he departed, he dragged a few boxes of paper that had been strategically placed off to the side, to the front of the door to make sure Old Michael couldn’t escape before Old Pam left the office to pick the other Michael up.

 

🕐🕑🕔🕖🕘🕚🕧

 

“Dunder Mifflin this is Pam.”

Michael didn’t answer. Instead, he looked down at the sheet he held to review the talking points she had written down for the call. There wasn’t much there, just a few notes on what to say to get her to come if she refused, next to which he had jotted in his messy scrawl, that’s what she said.

 With nothing more than that to go on, he was at a bit of loss how to begin his script.

“I ought to double up on the improv,” he muttered under his breath as Pam repeated herself with a little more annoyance tacked on to her straight-faced phone voice.  He just knew she was not smiling.

“Hello, Dunder Mifflin?”

“Oh, umm, I’m, It’s, Hi Pam, it’s me.”

“Michael?”

He sensed the question in her tone and wondered why it was there. They’d spoken a million times on the phone, she had to know his voice. Could maybe his time travel voice be deeper or possibly higher than his regular one? Or was she used to his characters around this time in the afternoon? Dropping it to a low tenor he drew out his best Darth Vader and went on to answer her.

“Yes, Pam it is your boss and I need you.” 

“Where are you calling from and what’s wrong with your voice?”

Maybe he needed to go up instead of down. He tried a higher octave with his next response, trying his Kelly impression.

“Um I’m out and la la la, I need you to come pick me up.”

“Michael, is this some kind of joke? Stop playing games. I just saw you no less than fifteen minutes ago go into the kitchen.”

Keeping his voice high in its register he continued.

“Um, no you must be seeing things you know, because I, hee hee hee, sailed out of there a while ago. See I went downtown and I got caught in a civil rights rally.”

“No, you didn’t. And why are you speaking like that?”

He stopped with the voices. It was too hard to think of places he could have gone while doing his characters.

“Okay, I went to have my colonoscopy.”

“Try again.”

He looked down at the notes again but they weren’t helping.

“Where could I be? Where could I be?” he mused to himself.

Flipping over the page he saw the additional reminders he left for himself… for once their trip was over.

--Buy a disco ball and strobe lights--

--Go on a diet or buy new pants--

--Get Pam’s masterpiece framed at my new favorite store, Michael’s--

“I’m, ah trapped in an oil painting.”

“Really Michael, you’re trapped in a painting? I’m hanging up.”

He had to think fast. What could he be doing? He was the manager of a paper company. What would a manager do?

“No, don’t. I, um, didn’t want to tell you because of your connection to the warehouse…”  

He paused to pat himself on the back for the quick thinking.  

“…but I had to make some personal paper deliveries to a very VIP, impertinent client. No digs on your man, but I couldn’t trust Roy or Lonnie or even Darryl alone on this one. There’s been some complaints.”

“What, Michael? What client? What complaints? Wait, hold on.”

There was a momentary silence, followed by the hold music.

He hummed in sync with the Musak, singing when he remembered the words that went along with the melody.

It's something unpredictable, But in the end, it's right.”

Pam came back to the line just as the best part was playing.

“What’s right Michael?”

“Aw Pam, I liked that song, can you put me back on hold.”

“What? No. Michael, tell me what you need.”

The familiar song now imprinted on his brain, he sang his response to the tune of the next line.  

“I told you that I need a ride.”

Pam replied with a harsh, “What Michael?”

“I need to be picked up from this delivery.”

“Michael, if you went out on a delivery, how come you need a ride back?”

There was silence for another few seconds where Michael though maybe he’d get to hear more of the song he still couldn’t quite place, but knew he’d be singing the rest of the day, but it never came on.

“You know what, never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“That was exactly what Pam said you’d say.”

“Huh, Michael, you’re not making sense. Oh, and that was Jan on the other line. Again.”

««««««

“I can’t come get you. Remember, no car. I came in the truck with Roy today.”

“That’s wh...”

“DON’T!”

After speaking high and low, the people he was pretending to be still a mystery to her, he had returned to his normal pitch, but she was also still in no mood for his jokes. Or whatever ridiculous thing he was up to because she knew it wasn’t deliveries. She had enough on her mind without whatever Michael shenanigans were going down. And while under regular circumstances his ‘that’s what she saids’ didn’t bother her, this one about her and Roy was the last thing she wanted to hear.

But even without Michael’s joke, he’d already been in her head.

Of course he would be with what she almost did last night.

All morning she’d been unable to stop the worries playing ping-pong in her mind. First to the table was what happened with Roy, but within a minute her thoughts bounced to Jim and their argument. It continued on like this all day.

Bounce, hit, Roy.

Bounce, hit, Jim.

Bounce, hit, Roy.

Only with him did she also vacillate about how their bout concluded, unsure if the regret she felt was that she came that close to calling off the engagement or that she didn’t go through with it.

It was hard to imagine only two weeks ago she’d been on cloud nine after he’d got up and in front of everyone, announced the date they would at long last tie the knot. Though she’d started the night with a different kind of knot twisting in her stomach… first from expecting to have another fight as he got too drunk again, then the mass tangling further after the awkwardness with Jim up on the deck… by the time the night was over she was never more sure of her love for Roy.

But with each day she became more and more unsettled about what she felt. It wasn’t just the strange and sometimes heated conversations or how he was already disinterested in anything wedding related; there was something else gnawing at her from the inside, as if a second self was trying to claw herself out. Her dreams too of late had been so vivid and quite often involved running into another version of herself, always about to deliver a message but one she never seemed to get in time, awaking in a cold sweat and with a racing heart she imagined was beating so loud, it might wake Roy up.

Things felt almost right again while they were away but even then the sensation that something was missing hovered over her the entire time. She tried to not to acknowledge it, tried to reason with herself that the feeling was because she’d left behind her favorite sweater, unable to find it before the trip. But deep down she knew it was not a misplaced cardigan that made her feel less than whole. Her happiest smile wasn’t back home with the sweater, her joy wasn’t at the bottom of the hamper, her heart wasn’t somewhere in the office, the only place she hadn’t been able to look for it while packing.

Or was it?

“Spoil sport.”

Michael’s voice snapped her back to the conversation.

“Anyway, you can take my Sebring. I left the keys in your top drawer.”

She pulled it open and just as he said, there they were along with a small amount of cash that she didn’t remember being there before. Attached to the Sebring fob was a plastic saddle shaped advertisement for some dealership which had been sharpied over with the words, World’s Best Driver.

“Michael, when did you put these here?”

She didn’t like the idea of him in her desk drawer, not that she had anything personal in the one he’d left them in. She knew better than that with a nosy boss. If he had no problem intercepting their emails, then there was nothing to keep him from going through their drawers after hours, at least the ones without locks. Only the bottom of her three was secured with a key. This was the one where she kept the teapot and the doves and the French Onion chips she couldn’t bring herself to ever eat.

She pulled it open now, the teapot bringing a brief smile to her face, quickly erased with the thought of the fight she supposed she was still in with Jim. She’d never been in one with him before. At least not one that lasted more than a few hours. But this one was different and she didn’t like how it felt. Or how to get them past it.

He wasn’t there in the morning. Sales call, she learned from Michael when came out to greet her and grill her some more about what was discussed with Jan the day before.

Upon his arrival, he walked right past her, marching straight to his desk without a hello or even a nod. She had been on the phone but it never stopped him before, in fact it was a game of theirs, he would whisper silly words like ‘gingersnap’ and ‘cornucopia’ that she was supposed to use in her conversation. Not once had she succeeded, his words were always too trivial, but she was determined to get a win in soon. Still, she understood why he wasn’t in a game-playing mood today.

There was some small talk at the group lunch but he arrived late, no doubt to avoid her. He ate his meal quickly and was the first to get up. And knowing how he hated to rush through lunch, she sensed that it was intentional.

There hadn’t been another word from him since then and she knew she was to blame.

She was fully aware she owed him an apology for the way she reacted yesterday but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do that yet. Because she knew apologizing would mean admitting to herself that he was right, that Roy was holding her back. If that were true, if he didn’t want more for her eventually, then she’d just wasted close to a decade on the ground when she could have been flying.

It couldn’t be that. That was too depressing. Even if it was true.

Besides, she was also a little mad at him for not letting this thing go yet. He had to know it was hard for her to jump into something different, just like when he’d been upset with her for telling him to go for a better job. How could he think it was okay to push her towards something she wasn’t sure she was ready to do? He knew her well enough to know she’d have doubts.

But still he had witnessed her initial excitement about the opportunity. Could she blame him for calling her on her own change of heart?

Again, Michael’s voice pulled her back to the present.

“Um, last night, erm, ahh, before I left. Doesn’t matter, just will you come get me?”

“Michael, I have to stay here and answer the phone.”

How she wished she could call Jim over to help her with this one. Whatever Michael was up to she didn’t want to deal with it alone.

“Just set it to voicemail. I don’t trust anyone else behind the wheel of my baby and it’s a bit of a drive to where I am.”

“I can call you a cab. Where are you?”

“No Pam. No cabs, they always smell bad and the drivers are mean to me.”

“Mean to you? How are they mean to you?”

“Never mind that. Just come get me. Please. Listen, come get me and I’ll give you three extra days off for your honeymoon.”

Did Michael have the authority to grant extra vacation days she wondered silently, and with what was heavy on her mind would she even need them? Still, a few more vacation days would be nice, all the more if she followed through with what she was thinking she might do. There would be a lot of fallout and things to take care of making the days off even more necessary. Finding an apartment, buying a car, crying on Jim’s shoulder.

That is, if they made up.

With everything swimming in her brain, she could use a break from the ringing phones and Jim’s coldness. Maybe a long drive would help her clear her mind so she could find courage to come back and make amends with him.

And the strength to do what she couldn’t last night.

“Okay, fine. Give me the address. But I’m holding you to the extra days. And this better not be one of your tricks, like the fake firing.”

“I promise Map, that’s Pam spelled backward. Appropriate since you might need one to get me. Ha ha. Oh, but come alone, don’t bring anyone else. There’s no room in the back seat. Swear it Pam. Or I’ll take back the days.”

»»»»»»»»

He’d wanted to show her his find yesterday but between the two seminar’s, Jan’s real one and the one Michael threw in response to hers down in the warehouse, he never got the chance. And then at the end of the day, when he foolishly followed her into the breakroom, they’d had that terrible fight.

He knew it was his own fault. He’d overstepped his boundaries again. It was always when he crossed the line, forgetting he was just her friend and nothing more and it wasn’t his place to tell her what to do any more than it was his place to wrap his arms around her and pick her up in front of all their co-workers.

He knew he needed to make amends but when he walked in after the sales call this morning the look on her face said she was still upset with him. Even red and swollen as they were this morning, her green eyes were both still beautiful and still laced with anger. Not wanting to escalate things any further, he decided to give her space and refrained from whispering nonsense words at her while she talked on the phone. Even after she hung up, he kept his distance, not once going for a mid-morning jelly bean. At lunch, which took slightly late due to a long-winded client’s many questions, he wound up sitting a few seats away from her. It didn’t much matter as she never looked his way and so he kept the talk directed at the group, leaving the table way before anyone else despite having been the last to join the group.

Even knowing he wouldn’t go ahead with his latest prank unless things were back to good with Pam, after they ate, he started laying the foundation with Dwight. As they debated over Hogwarts and Voldemort, he thought maybe he should go on with it anyway. His getting one over on Dwight always seemed to make her laugh and that could be the ice breaker to get them talking again.

He decided no. This was bigger than that. It was the longest fight they’d ever had, and the first time he felt he wouldn’t be able to smooth things over with a joke or a bag of her favorite chips.

He knew he had to get her alone again so they could talk, but the phones had been busy all morning, and this call she was on now was very curious. It seemed she was talking with Michael, the exasperation in her voice gave it away. Where he was calling from was the big question since he’d seen him walk to the kitchen not too long ago, but from what he could hear it sounded a lot like he needed someone to go out and get him, again.

The last call like this from Michael was pretty comical. He could still remember how his reaction brought absolute delight to her face as they spoke to him on speaker about his burnt foot. But she wasn’t waving him over to join him today and he knew why.

After she hung up the phone she got up and walked out from behind her desk.

Was she heading to him?

He hoped so, but she passed him without stopping, but at least she’d glanced in his direction.

Was there something she was trying to communicate as her glossy green eyes met with his? Was it his opening? He began to construct an apology in his head, only to have them rudely interrupted.

“Don’t you have a sales call to get to, idiot?”

He did. And Pam had already passed him by a second time on her way back to her own area.

But she didn’t sit, instead reached below her desk to grab something, her purse he realized as it was on her shoulder as she stood up.

Jumping up himself, he grabbed his own bag and made his way to where she was now taking her coat down from the rack.

Struggling to make his words come together, he heard his voice crack as what came out was not, ‘I was wrong’ or ‘forgive me’ but, “Hey, what’s going on? Where are you headed?”

It wasn’t what he intended to say, but at least she was looking at him again and didn’t seem so angry anymore.

“Um, I have to go get Michael. I don’t know when, but he went out on some deliveries with some new guy from downstairs and he got left behind at a Hertz near the drop-off.”

“That doesn’t sound right. I mean it sounds right he’d be left behind but what client would be over that way.”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s a new one. Maybe it’s the Hertz. With Michael, it could be almost anything. All I know is he wants me to come get him, with his car.”

She dangled the keys for him to see, but something was still not right between them. She didn’t point out the homemade accessory Jim knew was on it. Any other time it would have prompted a good ridiculing and a shared laugh but today she just switched them to her other hand without comment..

“Want me to go with?”

The sales meeting he was headed to was important but so was making things right with her and the car ride would be a good opportunity to apologize in private at least until they got to Michael.

“Michael said he didn’t want anyone else in his car. Besides, didn’t I hear you have a sales call? I wouldn’t want you to lose a sale because of me. You know it is your career.”

There was a bit of bite still there, but he understood why. Yet he knew there in the middle of the bullpen wasn’t the place to get into it again, even if he only planned to tell her how wrong he had been.

“We can take mine and I can reschedule. And if not, it’s just a sale. I know there are things that are more important than sales.”

It still wasn’t the speech she deserved to hear from him but if she were listening to the undertone, maybe she’d hear the love hiding in his delicate words. But really who was he kidding, if she hadn’t seen through him yet…even after his desperate longing stare up on the boat deck, repeated when he, thanks to Michael had to reveal his ‘long ago crush’, and exposed with every visit to her desk, every joke he played for her attention, every smile they shared when she looked out to him… it was going to take him saying something more direct for her to know just how deeply he still loved her. But before he could work up the nerve to do anything like that, he just needed her to forgive him.

“I appreciate it Jim” she smiled up at him, the piercing emeralds he stared into seem to connect with his. Was it over, their fight?

“But I think I’d rather go on my own.”

Her words said one thing, the faint smile another so he couldn’t be sure. It seemed genuine but her eyes were still so sad.

Watching her walk through the exit without him was his answer. If it were over, if she forgave him, she’d at least wait for him so they could head downstairs together.

Head down, he retreated back to his own desk to grab one more thing and then returned to where they had last stood, wishing he could turn back time a few minutes and change the words he spoke. Better yet…

He slipped behind her desk and grabbing a sheet of paper from the printer he began to write, leaving her the folded note and box before he too put on his overcoat and left the office.

He never did notice the item she left sitting beside her keyboard.

Chapter End Notes:

If it’s not obvious, I watched Golden Ticket Superfan episode around the time I finished flushing out this chapter.

Oh and who else noticed Hank’s name tag in Season 2’s Drug Testing episode? It’s Hank Doyle as far as I know so who’s Tate.

Also who can identify the Super Fan scene hinted at in the chapter? Give you a hint, it’s absolutely from Season 1.

Finally, if you’re like Michael and want to hear a bit more from Billie Joe Armstrong click here...

Green Day - Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life) [Official Music Video]


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