Summary: He seems almost cautious, dreadful, as he opens his eyes. Like he still thinks I'm a figment of imagination, or an apparition. At this point I'm not sure I'm not. I feel pretty translucent.
Pam needs to talk to her best friend after her world is blown apart.
Categories: Jim and Pam,
Episode Related Characters: Jim, Jim/Pam, Mark, Pam
Genres: Angst, Romance
Warnings: Adult language
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 3
Completed: Yes
Word count: 2207
Read: 8781
Published: April 13, 2009
Updated: May 05, 2009
liberty by elliehalpert
Author's Notes:
Okay, so . . . I don't like this one. I feel really lame in saying that because I rarely actually like what I write and that's what prevents me from like, finishing things. But since I've decided this is just going to be three short parts I'm like . . . what the hey.
Still not mine, at all.
I know I'm awake, but from habit I don't open my eyes.
You might think, from the insanity of the night before, that I would be confused as to where I am. But I'm not.
I am in Jim's arms, my head on his chest, breathing in his fabric softener. Where else would I be? Where else would I be this comfortable?
I don't want to move.
His undershirt is soft against my cheek and my fingertips rest softly on a tantalizingly warm sliver of skin where the cotton has ridden up. I pull my hand over the exposed stomach and hold back a laugh when one of his arms twitches and pulls me closer.
"Pam," he says, voice low and close to my ear. "That is so not fair."
I smile and hum into him. "I know." My hand splays over his abdomen. "I have to go."
"I know." And his hand rests over mine.
+
Roy shouts, and I need out. As I turn to close the door, he kicks the chair and my heart breaks a little when he collapses into it and sobs.
A little.
I return to Jim's with my bag and my left hand feels lighter than it ever has and I'm liberated. Free.
I don't go inside. On the steps I say, "Jim, I need time." He nods and he understands and when I tell him I'm taking time off he just hugs me and I kiss him swiftly.
"See you soon."
"Take care of yourself, Pam. Good luck."
+
On Saturday, Mom hugs me twenty-two times and Roy calls thirty-nine. I find a little blue car in a driveway down the street from my parent's house and it's for sale. I get a good deal, and Mom helps out a bit.
"Anything you need," she says, dabbing her eyes. "Oh, my baby." Hug twenty-three follows.
On Monday, I find a tiny apartment but know it's mine immediately because of the small balcony off the bedroom. I paint all of my three rooms on Tuesday.
Roy has called a total of one hundred and forty times, and left fifty-one messages. Mom adds a dozen more hugs to her list.
Wednesday, as I lie on the couch in my scarcely decorated living room, Jim calls.
"Work is terrible," he confesses, "without you there. I mean, really. Dwight needs a severe pranking. And Michael is, well--Michael. I'm sorry to say."
I laugh. "I'll be back soon, I promise."
"Ryan is the receptionist. He thinks I'm gay now."
"Ouch."
"I'm telling you, Beesly, we need you here. If I have to see Ryan give me the 'Is my coworker straight? Because he keeps looking at me longingly . . .' look one more time--"
I fall a little more, for him, and I don't know if next Monday can come soon enough.
+
Sunday night finds me at the supermarket and attempting to move as little as possible.
"Shit!" I curse under my breath, rubbing my shoulder after a few achy hops for the eggs. "God dammi--"
"Anything I can help you with, ma'am?" a voice comes from behind me.
"Yes, those eggs, up there, could you reach them? Thanks so much, sir, I--" His snort cuts me off, and I turn.
Jim says, "You called me sir," with a ridiculous giddy grin on his unshaven face.
"Dammit, Jim!" I launch myself at him, laughing, punching his shoulder. "Ow! Ow, ow, ow."
"Whoa there, Beesly. What happened to you?"
"Rearranging furniture," I wince. "All afternoon. Heavy stuff."
He looks hurt, his lips pulling down at the corners in disappointment. "You could have called me. I do have these hideously large muscles."
"Yeah, I could have, but Jim? I needed to do it myself."
+
I don't have eggs. I need an omelet and I don't have eggs.
There's a knock at the door.
"Pam?" he says, handing me a carton. "You forgot your eggs."
End Notes:
Yeah, I've been having a bad day. Reviews might make it better, even if they're not entirely positive. I like feedback in general (but especially constructive compliments!).
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.