Jim and Pam shared a good-bye hug in the parking lot on his last day; she couldn't help herself, and he couldn't resist.

Not a word had passed between them in the days since "the incident", as Jim referred to it in his own mental commentary. Giving it a name that implied it had less significance disguised it as almost safe. A wolf in sheep's clothing.

Pam had watched silently as Jim emptied his desk of mementos from their time together as friends and partners in crime. It all ended up in a giant paper box among his desk lamp and framed photos of family. She looked on, observing the going-away party that was thrown for him. Silently from her desk she watched as hugs were exchanged, Michael's being the most dramatic and teary of them all. She met Jim's sideways glance from time to time, wishing she was right there by his side like his best friend again.

Before she knew it, the party was over and he was standing at the exit of the office, clutching the box overflowing with his past five years at Dunder Mifflin Scranton. He smiled sadly and said goodbye to his coworkers one last time. He met Pam's eyes briefly before he turned and left it all behind.

At the sight of him disappearing through that doorway with their shared memories held in a box, she flashed back on some of their happiest times together: all the pranks they played on Dwight together, secret conversations in the breakroom, Jim leaning over her desk as they talked quietly about anything and everything. Office Olympics, Jim's constant encouragement of her artwork, a tender kiss in the dim office... Something snapped inside her then, and she couldn't let a couple of awkward glances from across the room be their goodbye, the culmination of friendship and laughs and so much more. Her heart jump-started, silently shouting after him the words she couldn't get her mouth to form, and she abandoned her post at the front of the office and took the stairs two at a time, her heart beating so loudly that she imagined the sound was reverberating off the walls.

Her footsteps on the pavement announced her presence as she came up behind him. He was loading the box of his belongings into the trunk of his car. She could see him sigh, his shoulders lifting and falling, before he closed the trunk and turned to face her.

Her posture was so Pam, magnified by what he saw fighting to get out through her eyes. She had wrapped her arms around herself as if trying to keep everything from spilling out at their feet. Anger choked Jim's throat again because this was what she did best- bottle herself up, her heart broiling with emotions like a shaken up bottle of soda with the cap sealed tight.

His mind battled with his heart, and his heart won. He couldn't leave without saying goodbye to Pam, no matter how strongly his mind was yelling at him that he should. He took a step forward, his feet betraying his mind and obeying the demands of his heart, while his hands floated up to rest on her upper arms. Their eyes held. His fingers tenderly pressed into her flesh, and just like that she dropped her arms to her side. The cap was loosened just enough, and her chin trembled at the force of all that she held inside fizzing to the surface. A tear lingered on her lower lashes, and she fell forward into his chest, her breath hitching loudly. Her arms slid around his waist, her forehead pressed into his shoulder, and they held each other in a wordless goodbye. They memorized the feel of each other, the comfort and warmth, the way Pam fit just so into Jim's arms. Jim glanced up and thought he saw their coworkers observing their sad goodbye from Michael's office behind the reflection in the windows.

Pam stepped back then, head tilted, and a crooked smile slowly adorned her face. Another tear freed itself from her lashes and fled down her cheek. Nothing more could be said-- the situation hadn't changed. So Jim stepped back, nodded once, smiled a half-smile, and folded himself into his small car. Pam looked on as he pulled out of the space, her arms wrapped protectively around her middle once more. He smiled sadly as he passed her, and watched her get smaller in his rear-view mirror as he drove away towards Connecticut.

When his car was out of sight, Pam felt her chin trembling again, and her vision became blurry once more. Needing a few minutes to collect herself before she went back to the office, she slowly made her way to the side of the building. Before her was the tree where she and Jim often sat underneath eating lunch in the summer. the leaves were new and green, and she sat in the soft grass underneath it and drew her knees up to her chest. She let herself cry for a few minutes, hugging her knees, her forehead resting on her arms. Tears stained her skirt with dark wet drops. She lost track of time, but eventually she felt like she may be able to keep herself together for at least a little while. Standing up, she straightened out her skirt and brushed off the dried grass, and made her way inside. 

To Be Continued...

The next few months for Pam were a whirlwind of change. Breaking up with Roy and moving out on her own kept her busy enough that she was able to suppress thoughts of Jim, and anything related. To keep herself further busy, she signed up for art school before she was even settled. Wasting no time, she took a class in the last summer session- a design class. Their first assignment was to express a word using only four black squares on Bristol board. Her word was "castaway".

When she wasn't doing homework for class, she was painting on her own. All of her personal time after work and on weekends was spent in her paint-splattered overalls, her hair piled on top of her head. She'd set aside a whole room in her two-bedroom apartment as her studio, and she spent the summer and fall in front of the open window, painting. Her feelings of regret and abandonment worked themselves out onto the canvasses. Dark swirls and heavy brushstrokes became her definition. These deeply personal works were completely different from the water-colored still-life and pastel-colored landscapes she rendered for her painting class. It was as if she was two different people- the one she was inside, and the version she showed others.

As the months passed, and the art therapy worked out all the corks that plugged up the box where she kept her heartbreak, she began to think about Jim more and more. As fall turned over to winter, she found herself wondering what he was doing at any particular moment. She pictured him in his own apartment, drinking a beer and watching sports on a lazy Sunday, laid back in jeans and a t-shirt, socks floppy on his feet.

She thought about seeing him again, telling him she was ready. But fear always trumped action, so she remained still, idling in a state of in-betweenness.

Until the night when too much wine became her courage.

She'd been convinced by Kelly and Phyllis to join them along with Meredith and Angela out to dinner at Chili's for a Girls' Night Out. She'd tried to get out of it by reminding them that she'd been banned from all Chili's restaurants for life, but they wouldn't have it. Kelly hounded her all day with "Pleeeeeese, C'mon, Paaaam!" Every time she'd walked by. She was finally convinced.

After dinner, they'd stayed and had a few drinks. Angela huffed about it, but couldn't leave because she became the designated driver as the only one who wasn't drinking, and Pam ended up having four glasses of wine- a couple of glasses above her threshold. In her wine-induced, uninhibited thoughts, she found herself unable to stop thinking about Jim. In her state, she found herself wanting to tell Jim she loved him.

She was in love with Jim.

Huh.

She always knew she had feelings for him that she maybe shouldn't have been having when she was engaged to Roy, but even after that amazing kiss she and Jim had shared and the way that she had found herself kissing him back, she'd still remained in some serious denial. She remembered briefly realizing how deeply her feelings ran for him the day she said goodbye to him, but then he was gone, and she had to forget.

But suddenly, those feelings were right there, clear and strong. After Angela had dropped her off at home, she stumbled over to her computer desk, and started up her computer. She had to get in touch with him- there was no question about it at that moment in her drunkenness with her inhibitions almost nonexistent. Opening her e-mail, she typed him a message. "Come back," it said, and that was all. She sent it off with a click of the mouse and butterflies in her stomach.

The next morning, when she'd woken up with what felt like a woodpecker drilling into her skull, she'd thrown the blankets over her head with full intention of sleeping until noon. With a jolt, her eyes flew open when she remembered her e-mail to Jim the night before. It almost felt like a dream, but she was pretty sure she'd really done it. She was both humiliated and hopeful. She threw off the covers and jumped out of bed as fast as one with a  hangover was capable of, one eye closed, hand on her aching head, and booted up her computer. She took four Aspirin while she waited for her computer to come to life, slumped into her desk chair, and opened up her e-mail. Her stomach swirled both from nervousness and the headache she was nursing.

But there was no e-mail from Jim.

She found her own sent e-mail in the Sent folder, but nothing from Jim in her Inbox. There were e-mails asking if she wanted to refinance her mortgage (which she didn't have), e-mails asking if she wanted to enhance certain parts of her body (which she also didn't have), a forwarded inspirational e-mail from her mom, but nothing from Jim.

She was pretty much obsessive about checking her e-mail for days afterwards. She kept her e-mail open all day long while at work, and her stomach would flip every time she saw a new message. But the wave of disappointment that came over her when she realized it wasn't from Jim was strong enough to make her feel a little sick. After a week and a half of no response, she decided that for her own health, she just had to accept the fact that things were really over between the two of them.

To Be continued...

Six months later:

From: Stamford IT
To: zzzz-All
Date: July 8, 2007 08:30 A.M.
Subject: E-mail Maintenance

Dunder Mifflin Stamford Employees,
Please take the time to go through your e-mail and clean out any personal messages and any messages in your Deleted or Bulk folders. The lack of upkeep with employees' e-mail accounts over the past few months has caused the server to be running at a much slower rate than is acceptable. Please take care of this as soon as possible.
Thank you.

Jim had never gotten himself into the habit of cleaning out his spam mail folder. But over his months at Dunder Mifflin Stamford, his Bulk box had collected over three hundred spam messages. After hitting "Ctrl-A" to highlight all messages, Jim's index finger hovered over the delete key.

"So, Big Tuna. Guess how many messages I had to delete." Andy turned around in his chair.

"Five thousand," Jim said dryly without looking up.

"Try two!" Andy said triumphantly.

"Wow. You are efficient," Jim said, looking up at Andy, his expression neutral. Behind him, he heard Karen exhale a hidden laugh through her nose.

"Got that right. I bet you're not nearly as efficient. How many do you have to delete?"

"About three hundred."

"Wow, Tuna, you so need to get on top of your game."

"Uh-huh," Jim said, staring back at his screen.

Andy looked at Jim for a few moments longer, perturbed that he'd begun to ignore him, and then swiveled his chair back around with a huff to face his own computer.

Jim's mouth curled up in victory, and he went back to deleting his e-mails. At the last second before hitting "delete", he decided to scan his e-mails to make sure nothing of importance had gone in the Bulk folder by accident. His heart stopped when he saw her name. An e-mail with no subject from Pam stared him in the face from his bulk folder. His heart sputtered and then restarted again as he tried not to get his hopes up.

For the first few months after leaving Scranton, Jim had tried his best to forget Pam. The meaningful goodbye they'd shared in the parking lot before he left was his closure. She had made it clear to him that she wasn't leaving Roy, so there was nothing left for Jim to do but move on. He'd jumped into his new responsibilities in Stamford eagerly, leaving as little free time for his mind to wander as possible. The scars that began to heal over were bruised again when he heard about Pam and Roy's breakup from everyone other than Pam herself. When it was clear that she wasn't going to contact him, he resolved to move on once more. Though as the months went by, he found himself thinking about her, wondering what she was doing now that she'd broken things off with Roy. He found himself hoping she was pursuing art, wondering what her apartment looked like. It didn't hurt so much anymore to reminisce about their friendship.

So he wasn't surprised to find himself flooded with joy mixed with a little bit of anxiety over this old e-mail from Pam in his Bulk folder. It had no subject line, and was only 1KB in size. It must have been a mistake. Maybe she'd tried to send him something, and gave up when no words came to her. She'd clicked the button by accident, maybe. The only thing he could do was to open it and find out. Slowly, he watched the mouse cursor as he directed it over the e-mail and double-clicked. The window popped open, and there were two small words. Two words that changed everything.

"Come back," it said.

Six months ago, she'd asked him to come back, and it had gone to his bulk folder because of the lack of subject line and number of words. Six months ago, his dreams became a reality, and he didn't even know it.

His fingers flew like lightning as he typed a response, and then another when she didn't answer back within three minutes.

To Be Continued...

Pam came back from lunch with Kelly on a normal summer Tuesday. Kelly was a surprisingly fun companion, and her only friend in the office. After Jim had left, she'd noticed things about her office-mates that she never really had before. 

Pam and Kelly often had lunch together or went shopping during their break. Shopping with Kelly was like running a marathon you'd never trained for. But it was an unforgettably fun experience.

Pam placed her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk and then nudged the mouse to wake up her monitor. The little yellow envelope in the system tray informed her of new e-mails. When she maximized the e-mail window, the force of her exhale at what she saw pushed her down into her chair. The screen swam before her when she saw her mailbox overflowing with e-mails from Jim.

From: Jim Halpert james.halpert@dunder-mifflin.com
To: Pam Beesly pam.beesly@dunder-mifflin.com
Date: Tuesday, July 8, 2007 12:05 P.M.
Subject: [No Subject]

Hey, Beesly,
Next time you send me an important e-mail like this one, make sure there's a subject, and that the body has more than two words, okay? I just got this now when I was cleaning out my bulk folder. :o/
I don't really know what to say. I guess the most important questions are did you really mean it, and do you still feel the same? 
-Jim

------

From: Jim Halpert james.halpert@dunder-mifflin.com
To: Pam Beesly pam.beesly@dunder-mifflin.com
Date: Tuesday, July 8, 2007 12:08 P.M.
Subject: You there?

Hi again,

For all I know, you don't even work at Dunder Mifflin anymore, which would be really awesome for you, but totally sad right now for me. So um, I hope you see this.

-Jim

------

From: Jim Halpert james.halpert@dunder-mifflin.com
To: Pam Beesly pam.beesly@dunder-mifflin.com
Date: Tuesday, July 8, 2007 12:15 P.M.
Subject: Let me tell you about Andy.

So I just realized you're at lunch, I kind of called your desk and your voicemail is still your voice, so... I hope you're eating something good. I miss the smell of mixed berry yogurt, by the way.
Wow, that was kind of creepy.
Anyway, I have to tell you about the "Dwight" of our office. His name is Andy, and he's just as weird and creepy as Dwight, except he sings and doesn't take pranks very well. I put his calculator in Jello, and he totally went off and kicked the garbage can across the office. Yeah, scary.
Talk to you soon, I hope.
-Me

------

From: Jim Halpert james.halpert@dunder-mifflin.com
To: Pam Beesly pam.beesly@dunder-mifflin.com
Date: Tuesday, July 8, 2007 12:35 P.M.
Subject: Back yet?

Hey, you should see the view out my window. It's the ocean and in the morning there are sailboats in the distance. You would love to paint this, Pam.
Just for the record, though, it's not as good as my view was back in Scranton.
-Me

------

From: Jim Halpert james.halpert@dunder-mifflin.com
To: Pam Beesly pam.beesly@dunder-mifflin.com
Date: Tuesday, July 8, 2007 12:55 P.M.
Subject: lunch is over

Ok, if you couldn't tell, I'm kind of impatient right now. Lunch is over. So seriously, come back... to your desk. ;o)
-Jim

------

Pam overflowed with joy and disbelief as she read Jim's e-mails. So he still cared for her after all- he'd just never seen her e-mail. She blinked more tears away with every line she read.

"Pam? Are you okay?"

Kelly stood in front of her looking concerned. She was sure she probably looked like a mess hiding behind her computer monitor with tears streaming down her face.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Pam said. "I'm great, actually. It's just," she pointed at the computer. "Wow. Yeah, I'm good. I'll tell you about it later." She smiled to assure Kelly that her tears were of joy, not of sadness.

"What are you so happy about?" She leaned in and asked in a stage whisper.

"I'll tell you later, okay?" she said in a hushed voice as to not draw the attention of everyone else in the office.

"You promise?"

"Yeah."

"Pinkie swear?"

Pam rolled her eyes and stuck out her pinkie for a pinkie swear.

"Okay, good, Come over to my desk as soon as you can!"

"I will," Pam said, and Kelly retreated back towards her desk.

Pam clicked the mouse button to compose a new mail:

From: Pam Beesly pam.beesly@dunder-mifflin.com
To: Jim Halpert james.halpert@dunder-mifflin.com
Date: Tuesday, July 8, 2007 1:30 P.M.
Subject: Yes!

Jim,
Yes! I still mean it! I miss you so much, and I wish you would come back.
How did you ever find my e-mail after all this time?
Write back!
~Pam

------

From: Jim Halpert james.halpert@dunder-mifflin.com
To: Pam Beesly pam.beesly@dunder-mifflin.com
Date: Tuesday, July 8, 2007 1:35 P.M.
Subject: Re: Yes!

Pam,
That is so great to hear. I want to come back, too. It's not the same here for a lot of reasons. Just so we're not misunderstanding each other, I can't be just your friend anymore, Pam. I meant what I said that night. I want it to be more.

We're having kind of a delete-your-spam day because the server is all plugged up, so I decided to check mine first before I deleted it all, and there was your e-mail. Wow.

-Jim

------

From: Pam Beesly pam.beesly@dunder-mifflin.com
To: Jim Halpert james.halpert@dunder-mifflin.com
Date: Tuesday, July 8, 2007 1:40 P.M.
Subject: Re: Re: Yes!

Yes, we are definitely on the same page, Jim. I couldn't go back to being just friends either.

Hooray for Delete-your-spam Day! :oD

Love,
Pam

------

From: Jim Halpert james.halpert@dunder-mifflin.com
To: Pam Beesly pam.beesly@dunder-mifflin.com
Date: Tuesday, July 8, 2007 1:43 P.M.
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Yes!

Wow, this is really happening.
Can I call you?

Love,
Jim

------

From: Pam Beesly pam.beesly@dunder-mifflin.com
To: Jim Halpert james.halpert@dunder-mifflin.com
Date: Tuesday, July 8, 2007 1:51 P.M.
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Yes!

Yes, call me!

------

Pam's desk phone rang, and the butterflies, which barely had a chance to settle since she sent off her latest e-mail, fluttered around in her ribcage. She answered with her usual greeting, but took note of the tremor in her voice.

"Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam."

"Dunder Mifflin, this is Jim."

She could hear the smile in his voice, and she just about melted at the deep melodious tones which she hadn't heard in so long.

"Hey."

"Hey," he said, his voice cracking in that way that was just Jim.

"Okay, we can stop repeating each other now."

"Okay, we can stop repeating each other now," he parroted.

Pam giggled. "Stop!"

Jim laughed. "So..."

"Yeah."

"This is..."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

It was awkward in a delicious way, and Pam never wanted that feeling to end.

"So, how's Connecticut?"

"Sucks."

Pam burst out with an unexpected laugh, and looked up to find all eyes in the office on her. She shrank back behind her monitor and spoke more quietly.

"Really? Is it that bad?"

"Nah, it's not that bad. I mean, certain people are kind of amusing to mess with, and certain others are pretty cool..." It was awkward sitting at his desk talking about people who were only a few feet away. "And the view out my window is awesome..."

"You mentioned that."

"But it's different, you know? It's not home, and I really miss... certain people."

"Dwight?"

"Oh yeah, I totally wrote him secret, un-sent love notes for the past eight months."

"Um, Michael?"

"Beesly, come on!" he laughed.

"I know," she said shyly.

"Hey, I hate to do this, but I have to go. Josh is giving me a death glare from his office. I think it's obvious I'm not on a business-related call."

"No problem. I'm getting looks on my side, too. Plus, there are like, four calls waiting on the other lines."

"Okay, Beesly, I'll talk to you in... two hours and fifty-two minutes."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Bye, Pam."

"Bye, Jim." She waited on the line for him to hang up until she heard him say in an exaggeratedly high voice, "You hang up first! No, you hang up first!"

She sighed dramatically and laughed. "Okay, bye!" and hung up the phone.

Within thirty seconds, Pam had an e-mail from Jim. She smiled at the screen, wondering if the wings of the butterflies in her stomach would ever get tired from all that flying around they were doing in there.

They sent e-mails back and forth for the rest of the afternoon. They avoided getting into more serious topics through e-mail- it would be better to address those in person. But they exchanged stories, caught up with each other, and basically slipped back into their old back-and-forth rhythm again.

To Be Continued...

Pam didn't hear from Jim on her way home, but she figured he had just gotten busy, as he mentioned in his last e-mail of the day.

When she arrived home, the sun was lower in the sky and the air carried an evening coolness that brushed against her skin. Pam hummed to herself as she changed into some after-work clothes. She decided to order a pizza and wait for Jim's call. Tuesday was a busy night for pizza, apparently, because it was going to be 50 minutes before her pizza was due to arrive. Clicking on the TV and surfing the channels, she thought about doing something artistic- maybe her animation homework- but she didn't want to start something only to be interrupted in the middle by the pizza delivery guy or by Jim's phone call. She eventually paused on the Food Network when she saw brownies being made with three whole candy bars layered in the middle.

Her phone rang, and she smiled as she saw Jim's name on the Caller ID.

"Hey."

"Hi. What're you up to?"

"Drooling on myself."

"What?" The word shook with his light laughter.

"I'm watching Paula," she said in an exaggerated Southern accent. "She's making these brownies that have a chocolate bar cooked into the middle of them, and my mouth is watering, Jim. Let me just tell you."

"Oh man. I am aware of your chocolate addiction."

"I wish I had some brownie mix right now so I can make these brownies. Who cares if they're not made from scratch, I just want melty brownies."

Jim chuckled.

"So what are you doing?" She asked.

"I'm in my car stuck in traffic."

"Yuck. Is Stamford known for having a lot of traffic?"

"Parts of it. The highway especially."

"Do you live far from the office?"

"Not really..."

"So you'll be home soon."

"Yeah, I will."

"Hey, aren't you breaking the law right now by talking to me on your cell phone in the car?"

"Um, I don't think so, why?"

"Yes you are! Connecticut has a no-cellphone-while-driving law!"

"No they don't, do they?"

"Yes!" Pam dissolved into giggles. "I can't believe you didn't know that! You're the one who lives there!"

Jim laughed. "I guess I haven't been paying much attention, have I?"

"I guess not!"

They continued to talk for the next forty-five minutes or so. Pam got comfortable on her couch, curled up in the corner with the afghan wrapped around herself.

"Ugh, my pizza's late."

"You ordered a pizza?"

"Yeah, it was supposed to be here ten minutes ago. It's already been an hour."

"No tip," he said.

"No tip," she agreed.

"Hey, have you gotten home yet?" She realized they'd been talking for almost an hour and he hadn't mentioned getting home yet.

"Uh, not yet."

There was a knock at the door, and Pam jumped up. "My pizza's here! hold on a sec." She put the phone down on the coffee table and grabbed the wad of bills she'd taken out of her purse to pay the delivery guy with. When she opened the door, though, there was Jim, phone still up to his ear, huge grin spread across his face. Pam's eyes lit up, and she threw herself at him, almost knocking them both backward onto the steps outside.

"You're here!" she said, burying her face into his neck.

"I am," he answered wrapping his arms around her.

He was warm and soft and Jim, and he smelled so good, like home. She held him tight and breathed him in until she heard someone clear their throat behind Jim. She lifted up her head from Jim's shoulder, and saw the pizza delivery guy looking on uncomfortably from the sidewalk.

"Oh!" Pam said, separating herself from Jim briefly to collect her pizza. She thanked the delivery man and gave him the money she'd been holding onto.

She turned to Jim, and smiled at the way he was blushing and staring at the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. He was so cute, she felt her love for him bubbling up in her chest.

"Pizza time," she said. He followed her inside, his hand lightly guiding her at the small of her back.

"How did you get here so fast?" Pam asked, setting the pizza box down on the table and reaching up into the cabinet over the stove to get plates. Jim leaned a shoulder against the doorway and watched her, still in disbelief that this was really happening.

"I kind of left work early... as soon as I sent you that last e-mail, I was gone. I thought it would be fun to surprise you."

I'm glad you did," she said, handing him a plate with three slices of pizza on it. She took her own plate of pizza, and they headed to the living room couch, Pam licking a stray blob of pizza sauce off of her thumb as she sat down.

Sitting close on the couch, they were silent for a few moments, the only sound was of chewing and crumpling napkins. "I can't believe we almost didn't say goodbye to each other that day," Pam said quietly.

Jim paused and put down his pizza, looked over at Pam. "I know."

Pam dropped her head to the back of the couch. "I just... couldn't give you what you wanted right away, you know? I had ten years of a relationship on my shoulders, and a wedding coming up in a few weeks. That's a lot to give up right on the spot." Her eyes drifted from the ceiling to look over at Jim. His brows were furrowed, and he looked convicted.

"And then before I even had a chance to get my thoughts straight, you were leaving. I lost my best friend, Jim."

He could see her eyes becoming shiny with tears. He moved closer to her so that his leg was touching hers. A comfort to both of them- a silent assurance that he wasn't going anywhere.

"I'm sorry." He shook his head. "I just had to get out of here. I wish I had known what you were thinking... If I had known you were even considering it, I think things would have turned out a lot different."

Pam nodded. "Yeah, I think we both should have spoken up. We're not so good at the communication thing."

Jim chuckled. "Not so much."

"We'll have to work on that."

"Your e-mail was a pretty good start... too bad it got caught in the Spam filter."

"I know, right?" Pam laughed, and scooted down lower on the couch to lean her head against Jim's shoulder. He sighed. "I'm glad we're here now."

It had been a simple conversation, but it was all they needed. They'd both spent months analyzing everything that had happened between them, and simple confessions and apologies were all they needed now.

After a few moments of silent contemplation, Pam broke the remaining tension by suggesting a movie.

Both looked at each other, and then judged the distance to the DVD rack.

"I don't feel like getting up," Pam whined from where she was leaning up against Jim with the afghan over both of their legs.

"Me either," he said, not wanting to disrupt the comfortable position they'd sunk into on the couch together.

Both remained immobile, once in a while claiming they were really going to get up that time, but never actually making movement from their nest on the couch.

Finally, Pam moved, but it was only to turn herself to Jim, and bury her face into his neck. She nuzzled him a bit, and he wrapped his arms around her and repositioned himself slightly, leaning them back into the corner of the couch where the back and the arm met. His arms roamed up and down her back slowly, and Pam placed a couple of light kisses against Jim's neck. His fingers squeezed her hips in response.

"When do you have to head back?" She asked against his skin.

He felt goosebumps pop up on the back of his neck and down his arms at the sensation of her breath and lips against his neck. "Not until tomorrow," he said, his voice husky.

She lifted her head up, suddenly. "Really? Why not?"

"Are you trying to get me to leave? How rude," he said, smiling. Her face was just inches from his, and the anticipation was delicious.

"No!" She smiled and shook her head vehemently. "I'm glad. But how come?"

"I'm going to look for apartments tomorrow."

"In Scranton?"

"Yes, in Scranton. You said you still wanted me to come back, right?" He smiled.

"Yes! I just-- wow. it's all really happening," she said quietly, looking into his eyes.

He actually hadn't planned this when he'd left Stamford that day. He had just had an overwhelming need to actually see Pam for the first time in eight months. He wanted to talk to her face to face, to start things in motion between them, again. But the way things had gone- the way they were able to address most of what had happened between them, the way they were able to fall back into their old rhythm again, he didn't want to wait any longer and was pretty sure Pam was on the same page.

"Are you going to stay here tonight?"

"Oh, um, I actually hadn't thought that far ahead... I don't want to just assume that you'd let me crash on your couch for the night. I can find a motel-"

"Of course I want you to stay here!" she swatted him playfully across the chest. "I just didn't know what your plans were."

"Oh," he said, smiling again, his eyes darting down to her lips. The corner of her mouth crooked up into a half smile, and then his lips met hers.

Finally.

His kiss was like water to a wilting flower. She came to life, lips returning his kisses, hands reaching up to caress his face, his neck, his hair. Unlike Casino Night, there was no desperation in this kiss. There was excitement and happiness, and comfort. It was gentle and joyful, and so sweet. It went on until they were out of breath, until they'd slid into a more comfortable position in the couch- lying down, side-by-side, facing each other.

Until Pam fell off the couch.

Neither had realized how close to the edge of the couch she had been until Jim moved his arm from around her waist to slide his hand up her neck and cup her face as he kissed her. The loss of support caused her to teeter on the edge. She reached out to Jim in order to attempt to balance herself. But she'd already started falling, so her momentum, and the way Jim scrambled to catch her, just proceeded to pull Jim off the couch with her. They landed on the floor in a tangled mass of limbs and giggles.

"Oh man, I am so sorry," Jim laughed.

"Oh, real sincere," Pam said, still giggling.

"It was funny." he laid his head back onto the floor and laughed up at the ceiling. He hadn't felt so free and happy in a long time.

Pam just put on a feigned angry face, shook her head, and then leaned down to kiss him once more.

"I'm glad you're back," she said between kisses.

"Me too." he replied, squeezing her more tightly. "It's good to be home."