The door has closed behind them and locked and they are alone.

Inside Pam's apartment.

It's dim in here, only a low lamp left on to light her way in the dark.

She doesn't move to turn on more lights, just puts down her purse and keys on the catch all table by the door.

He doesn't move at all, not yet.

He's here, he's finally here, he's wanted to be here, like this, in this capacity, dreamt of it forever.

But now that he is, he's nervous, he's a little scared.

And he's very, very ready to be here.

She's kissed him, convinced him to come inside, convinced him that it's not really just their third date, that they've really had so many more, this is just the third one this weekend alone.

Convinced him that . . .

"So, what are you thinking, Beesley?"

. . . this is okay.

And Jim Halpert, heart in his throat and butterflies in his stomach, and desire coursing through the rest of him, . . .

"Coffee?"

. . . makes a final, valiant effort . . .

"A movie?"

. . . to stay casual.

Unpresumptive.

"No."

The woman he has loved for five years, on the other hand, . . .

"I want you. I want you to kiss me again."

. . . seems to hold no such reservations.

"Like you did on Casino Night."

Qualms.

"In the office."

Hesitations.

Casino Night.

The office.

He had beared his soul to her out in the parking lot.

Told her he loved her.

Admitted the poor timing, emphasized how badly he had needed to tell her anyway, how badly he had needed her to hear it, to know it.

Just once.

Begged for more than what they had.

And she had shut him down.

Face he loved pinched and strained.

So well as he could see through the blur of tears impeding his own vision.

What had he expected at the time, for her to break into that beautiful sweet smile he loved, come to him, run at him, throw her arms around him, I've fallen in love with you too, Jim, and kiss him?

Yeah, maybe.

After all, he had ended up making that stupid bet with his sister at Christmas two years ago that she couldn't make it through Slaughterhouse Five and she had said he couldn't make it through The Notebook.

And then they had both won and she had punched him in the arm and he had pretended he'd been bored with the book.

When really he'd been taking mental notes, lots of mental notes.

And in a wildly romantic, perfect world where he didn't lie in bed alone night after night, in the bed she had sat on perusing his yearbook and laughing, laying in that bed, watching the shadows, listening to the night sounds, desperately wishing she was in the bed with him, making love to him, instead of across town, in bed with him, possibly making love to him, oh god-

So he had blurted it out to Pam there in the parking lot as casually and nonchalantly as he could, it would be the final nail in his decision coffin of staying in Scranton or moving to Stamford, and it had not gone well and he had cried and apologized and walked away, heart cracked wide open and bleeding out on the concrete parking lot, hurting so bad it was a physical, excruciating literal despairing pain.

And he had decided to leave, just go right then, god, anywhere because he just couldn't do this anymore-

But he had instead leaned against the side of the building, just at the edge.

Watched her from the shadows like a creepy love-sick stalker, which was really what he was anyway, watched her stand there, all alone under the sodium lights in that shiny slick dress with her hair half up and half down, like a girl lost at prom.

"Hey, Halpert, keep an eye on her, alright?"

"Okay, will do."

Jim had watched her with her hands wringing and wringing, head half down, turn and go slowly back in the building.

Because, like him, maybe she needed to be alone, maybe she also couldn't bear the thought of the cheesy, cheap glitz and glamour and people of stupid warehouse Dunder Mifflin Casino Night.

So she might be going to the bathroom to hide or the stairwell to hide.

Or the office.

He knew those places well, had hid in them himself, more than once over the four years he had watched her be with Roy and not him.

He had stayed where he was a moment longer, not sure if he should follow her.

Knowing that he would.

And then he had.

She had been in the office, murmuring on the phone to he could only assume was her mother.

". . . Mom, he's my best friend."

And he'd known that this was the last thing, the last effort.

That he was going to try one last time to convince her.

Not with words because they weren't enough.

But with all of his love in a kiss.

Just a kiss, like in fairy tale or romance story. Wake her up.

Wake her up to them, him.

What it could be like to be cherished, adored, loved, always appreciated, the way she deserved.

Kiss her, just once.

So she'd know how much he loved her.

And he'd know how much he'd tried.

And if it worked, that'd be everything.

And if it didn't, at least he would have done it.

And it hadn't worked.

He'd thought it had, for one fleeting, thrilling second, he'd thought it had.

He hadn't bothered to speak.

"Listen, Jim-"

Had just slid his arms around her, ducking his head down to her lips, catching them softly with his own.

He hadn't been there to force her.

He had been there because he couldn't not give them one last chance.

And so he had poured every tender, loving bit of how he'd felt into that moment.

And she'd tasted and felt every single bit as perfect in his arms as he'd thought she'd taste and feel.

Exactly as he'd known she would.

But a revelation and a homecoming just the same.

She'd hesitated for a second, then gone up on her toes, slid her hands up his chest, and around his neck just like he'd dreamed.

She'd pressed into him and his heart'd nearly exploded right there and he had completely surrendered his pathetically transparent aloofness to her in the experience of that kiss.

And then she'd shifted back and he'd let her, and she'd looked up at him and he'd looked down at her in wonder, in awe.

And he'd finally thought it'd worked, people didn't press in to people like that they were about to reject, it had gotten through, he had gotten through, I love you, Pam, it's as simple as that, I know you want to love me and I'll never make you regret it, please, it was all going to be okay now, it was all over-

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

"Me too."

And relief had washed over and through him.

"I think we're just drunk."

She didn't want to believe it.

"No, I'm not drunk."

But he knew she did.

"Are you drunk?"

And she knew she did.

Unable to lie to herself or him any longer about her true, real feelings.

Yes, Beesley, finally -

And he had leaned in, relief and love, this is it now, finally-

"Jim-"

His name, murmured from her lips, it always sounded so good to him, made him feel this way-

-Except-

No . . . Pam . . .

"You're still going to marry him?"

She had nodded and he had known.

She didn't want to. He could tell. 

She just didn't think she couldn't.

Thought she always had to settle.

Go along to get along.

Fulfill her promises, her obligation.

That there couldn't be anything better for her anyway, that this was it and that was that.

But-

Pam-

N-

She had made her final choice.

After all he had said and done and tried.

It had been over, there had been nothing left for him to do.

"Okay."

And he had finally, finally let her go.

". . . Stamford."

"Okay. Great."

". . . Karen. Filippelli."

"Nice to meet you, Karen Filippelli, I'm Jim."

Or tried.

But that hadn't worked either.

"Do you still have feelings for her?"

"Yes."

And now, through everything, despite of everything, in spite of everything, here they are again.

And this time . . .

"Please, Jim."

. . . it's her approaching him.

"I won't let you down again."

And Jim Halpert . . .

"Okay. If you're sure you want to."

"I'm sure."

. . . decides to trust her on it.

She's looking right at him, she's waiting for him, she's not going to flinch away, not this time, he can tell.

And so through all the churning, excited, nervous, thrumming desirous hope all through him, Jim Halpert intakes a breath of air.

Slides his arms around her waist just like he did before.

Pam, . . .

And dips his lips down to hers . . .

I love you.

. . . again.