---

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket - safe, dark, motionless, airless - it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable."

- C.S. Lewis

Time always seems to slow down under the spotlight. It's like the last few seconds of a basketball game when everyone stands up with bated breaths, their eyes following the ball's arch towards the basket, wondering if it will be winning shot.

At least then he could try to predict what would happen.

Jim stared numbly at the spot of sand she had occupied just moments ago. She called off her wedding because of me.

So many sleepless nights in Stamford were spent hoping something like this would happen. He used to reassure himself in vain every night that Pam would eventually call and tell him she made a mistake. Most importantly, she would say that she called off her wedding because she wanted to be with him. In his head, his answer was always automatic, devoid of hesitation. Of course he'd do anything to be with her. That was never a question.

None of those scenarios involved Pam making a confession in front of everyone at work. He also never thought he would sit completely still with no goddamn clue what to say. But things were different now. He was different now. He had changed - evolved, almost. He had a girlfriend.

Karen.

Jim looked to his left. Karen was eyeing him apprehensively, trying to decipher his expression. He suddenly felt guilty for her nervousness.

"I'm going to talk to her," he said quietly, ignoring how everyone's whispers abruptly died when he spoke. His eyes silently pleaded with Karen. Please. Don't worry. Nothing's going to happen. She nodded brusquely and looked away.

Jim stood up and walked away from the circle of co-workers, aware of everyone's eyes on his back. They were likely wondering what he was thinking, but, truthfully, even he didn't know. He just felt so weary, like he had been running a marathon for months only to see the finish line shrinking further in the distance.  

He shoved his hands into his pockets, thinking. A part of him couldn't believe how Pam could instill this fear in him after all this time. There was no way he could ignore her, though, not after seeing the anguish in her eyes when she spoke. He wasn't sure what he would say exactly, but she deserved some kind of honesty. He owed her that much.

Jim stopped once he reached her. Pam was gazing down at the water where her feet stood, looking utterly serene.

"How are your feet?" he ventured cautiously.

"Medium rare, thanks." She smiled up at him. Jim chuckled quietly, grateful for the ease of tension.

"The real reason I went to Stamford was because I wanted to be," he looked away and hesitated before finishing, "not here."

"I know."

He swallowed, wondering how to phrase his next sentence. "And even though I came back, I just feel like I've never really . . . come back." Jim regarded her carefully, suddenly feeling exposed.

She glanced towards the water for a half-second before meeting his gaze again and declaring, "Well, I wish you would."

He felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. Any response he had in mind died in his throat. Pam stared at him directly, her green eyes never leaving his, daring him to respond. Unbidden, a question from long ago came to mind: Hypothetically, if you thought Pam was interested in you, what would you do?

For the first time in months, Jim felt hope flutter in his chest. However, as soon as it did, he mentally shook his head, willing himself to focus. He couldn't be that guy anymore, always waiting for her to come around. I just . . . can't, he thought miserably.

He forced himself to remember the job interview David Wallace had offered him earlier. Getting that job could be his final chance at moving forward, past this, past Scranton.

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence between them. "Uh, I don't think you heard, but Karen and I are going to interview for that job in New York, so . . ."

Pam's eyes widened. Quickly, a flash of shock and pain clouded her features only to disappear as quickly as it had come. "Wow, that's . . . great," she said faintly, her newfound candor missing. She forced a smile. "It sounds like an amazing opportunity."

He gazed down at his feet and nodded. "Yeah," he said hollowly.

"And, well, anyone would be better than Michael." They laughed halfheartedly. Her face turned serious and she continued, "No, the job sounds great. And, um, you'll get to live in New York, so that'll be cool. I'm sure you'll get the job, you really deserve it."

"Thanks." He shifted his weight onto his right foot uneasily. "Look, Pam, I know things have been weird lately, but I missed hanging out with you too," he said earnestly. "And even if I get the job, just - you'll always mean a lot to me."

Pam's eyes lit up. It had been a while since he had seen her look that happy. "So, friends?" she asked hopefully.

"Of course." Jim stepped forward and enveloped Pam into a hug, breathing in the fruity scent of her hair. When they broke apart, he let his arms linger on hers for a moment before dropping them. "We should probably get back," he said, pointing to where their co-workers were packing up for the bus.

They walked away from the shore in a comfortable silence. Jim felt relieved. Finally, he would not have to suffer through the awkwardness that had come to define their interactions ever since he came back from Stamford. Things couldn't simply return to the way they used to be, but maybe this was closure, the end of the "Pam Beesly" chapter that had defined his life for the past four years.

Maybe.

He stopped in front of Karen. She watched him and Pam warily, her arms crossed over her chest. Pam looked down, refusing to meet Karen's eyes, and hurried past them to join the rest of the office. Jim gave Karen a smile he hoped was convincing and reached out to squeeze her hand. She visibly relaxed at his touch, though her shoulders remained slightly stiff. Together, they grabbed their things and - with her slightly ahead of him - made their way back to the bus.

She made light conversation along the way, but Jim was only half-listening. He was just grateful that she didn't immediately broach the Pam subject that he had come to dread in the past few months. He had no idea what he would tell her, anyway. It's not like what Pam said would really change anything. He was still going to that interview. He was still going to be with Karen.

Still, try as he might, he just couldn't shake off the sense of foreboding that lurked at the back of his mind.

Once Jim reached the bus entrance, he paused, letting Karen through, and looked over his shoulder. Pam was chatting amiably with Oscar, her radiant expression a sharp contrast against the distant cloud of smoke from the coal walk. She gave Jim a small smile. It seemed like both a promise and a goodbye. He smiled weakly in return.

With a sigh, he stepped onto the bus, staring determinedly at what lay ahead of him, the words "I wish you would" echoing in his head with each step.

---

---

"Love is the condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own."

- Robert Heinlein

Pam pressed her cheek against the cool window, scanning the world around them as it flew by. She was sitting quietly in the truck on the way to work while Roy drummed his fingers on the steering wheel nervously, occasionally stealing glances at her. They hadn't spoken to each other that morning aside from their forced pleasantries.

"Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found . . ." the girl on the radio sung sadly in the background.

They passed by a small art store she hadn't visited before. She imagined stopping by there on the way home, carefully running her hands over art supplies she couldn't afford. The idea was stupid, she knew that, but something about its spontaneity appealed to her.

"Something wrong, babe?" Roy asked, breaking her out of her reverie.

"I'm fine," she said dully.

He glanced at her. "You're not still mad about last night, are you?"

She shook her head. "No," she lied.

It had occurred over dinner. She had rehearsed the words in her head, steeling herself for the inevitable fight. This time, she had reassured herself firmly, it will be different. I will explain everything and he'll understand. Roy, too busy craning his neck to look at the latest basketball game on TV, didn't notice her anxiety.

Pam toyed with the vegetables on her plate before dropping her fork with a clatter. She looked at Roy hesitantly. "Roy, can I talk to you about something?"

"Hmm?" he responded distractedly, his eyes still glued to the television screen.

"Do you even want to get married?" she asked softly.

"What?" He turned around and looked at her, frowning. "Of course I do."

"Then how come you won't agree to set a wedding date?" she pleaded, her words coming out in a rush. "Mom just told me Shannon is already preparing for her wedding."

He continued to look bewildered. "So? What does Shannon have to do with anything?"

"Nothing - she just - she's three years younger than us and she's only been dating Brian for two years. We've been together for longer but we're not even close to getting married." She absentmindedly picked on her cuticles, a nervous habit she had recently picked up.

"Of course we are, we're engaged."

"Well, it doesn't feel like it sometimes," she mumbled, her eyes glued back onto her plate.

"Wait, what?" He shifted his full attention to her, his posture suddenly defensive. "I already proposed to you. How are we not engaged?"

"Because the point in getting engaged is to get married, Roy!" she shot back, her voice finally rising. "Why can't you see that? Is there something wrong with me? Do you - ?"

He pushed his chair back and walked towards the sink to put his plate away. "Damn it, Pam, I'm not talking about this," he said firmly over the running water. "I've told you hundreds of times, I do want to get married, right now just isn't a good time. We barely have any money to afford a wedding." He shut the tap with a sigh and looked at Pam wearily.

She opened her mouth and closed it. A part of her was tempted to point out how he had wasted part of their savings on the WaveRunners he got with Kenny. But it was pointless; she knew better than to continue the argument because whatever she said would only make him too defensive to listen.

"Fine," she said, her voice a near whisper. "Just forget it." Her shoulders slumped in defeat. With a nod, Roy returned to the living room to continue watching the game. Meanwhile, Pam sat at the kitchen table, moving the food around her plate disinterestedly. It was as if nothing had happened.

She couldn't explain how, almost twelve hours later, the conversation from the previous night still poisoned her mood. They had heated arguments about the wedding before. Granted, there were times when Roy acquiesced to her pleas, but the plans always fell through. "September," he would reassure her, but not much else was said. Next thing Pam knew, September came and went, and she was still stuck as Beesly instead of Anderson.

Finally, Roy pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine. "C'mon, Pammy. You know I want to marry you. You get it, right?" He looked at her pleadingly, his eyes soft.

Still, something about his patronizing tone set her teeth on edge. She forcefully unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the car door. "No, I get it," she replied sardonically. "It's just not the right time." She slammed the door and quickly strode towards the building, ignoring Roy's indignant protests behind her.

* * *

Something was up with Pam. That morning, Jim went straight to her desk, as usual, shrugging off his jacket, but his enthusiastic greeting was only met with a terse, "Hey" and averted eyes. He contemplated asking what was wrong but thought better of it. If questioned, she would only withdraw further, instead choosing to reveal herself on her own terms. He settled for giving her a small smile and walked towards his desk.

He glanced at the calendar, sighing. It would be another long day at work, it seemed.

For the rest of the day, Pam's mood didn't change. She wasn't even fazed by Dwight's new level of obnoxiousness or Michael's inane requests. It was only after lunch when he found out what was wrong.

Kelly was waiting by the copier when her eyes drifted towards reception. "Hey, Pam? Didn't you say you were getting married this spring?" Kelly asked quizzically. Jim, who was busily scribbling on his paper, froze and strained to hear their conversation.

"Oh, um, no," Pam replied, startled. "I mean, we rescheduled it because, you know, money has been tight these days and a wedding would be expensive, so . . ." Her eyes darted around the office, as if she was trying to find an escape.

"Oh my God, you guys canceled the wedding again?"

"You know, I don't really want to talk about it," Pam muttered.

Of course that asshole was behind it. Typical. He felt a hot flash of anger towards Roy. It just bothered Jim more than anything - even more than his hopeless situation with Pam - how she was with someone who didn't make her happy. Roy didn't even know how lucky he was and it infuriated him.

Nonetheless, as selfish as it was, he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief at the news. The delayed wedding renewed his hope that maybe one day they could finally surrender to the inevitable and just be together.

When Pam scanned her computer screen indifferently, her lips still downturned, he couldn't take it anymore. Jim shoved the piece of paper he was writing on in his pocket and walked over to her desk.

"Today is April 27th," he said, grabbing a jellybean and casually leaning over her desk. "Do you realize what that means?"

"Another day stuck here?" she said gloomily. She looked down at her hands, twisting her engagement ring distractedly.

He shook his head. "Pam, I'm shocked. Of all people, you should know. No, today is Secretary's Day. I know, technically you're a receptionist, but . . ." He shrugged and grinned at her hopefully.

She snorted. "Oh, right, that's something to celebrate," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Who wouldn't be proud to be a receptionist?"

He frowned. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with your job." When she didn't look convinced, he continued, "Look, I know this isn't what you dreamed of, but you still do a really good job around here. I mean, how many people do you know who could put up with Michael the way you do?"

As if on cue, Michael emerged from the office and cleared his throat loudly. "Things have been so blah around here," he announced. "So I was thinking - next Thursday we are going to have a party." He scanned the room, surveying everyone's reactions.

Angela looked up from the copier and narrowed her eyes at Michael with her signature quirked eyebrow. "For what?"

"Next week is 05-05-05!" Michael enthused.

Jim turned back to Pam and raised his eyebrows. "See?" he said over the sound of Stanley's exasperated protests. "You can deal with that on a daily basis without losing it. That has to count for something, right?"

She smiled wryly. "Thanks."

"Anyway, like I was saying, today's Secretary's Day. And, in honor of the occasion, I got you something." He drummed his fingers on her desk, his pulse quickening.

"What?" She tilted her head to the side, puzzled.

"Here." He handed her the piece of paper he was writing on earlier. At the top, combined with the company logo, it read, "Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam." Below was a cartoon of a smirking Pam holding a phone to her ear.

She stared at the drawing in her hands, her mouth hanging open. He eyed her anxiously, unable to gauge her reaction. He cleared his throat before quickly saying, "You're an artist, so, uh, I figured you would appreciate some of my own work." When she didn't say anything, he added hastily, "Okay, no, it sucks, but I did warn you that one time about how I'm bad at drawing."

He suddenly felt like an idiot. Why would a stupid drawing make her feel better?

She blinked and looked up at him as if she suddenly realized he was talking. She shook her head and smiled, her eyes twinkling. "No, it's amazing! I can't believe you did this. I should hang this up somewhere . . ." She scanned her desk for an empty spot.

"Pam, c'mon, you don't have to lie about liking your gift." He rolled his eyes, struggling to fight his grin.

"I'm not lying!" she protested. "Look, you made my hair curly! And you drew my cardigan, too." She carefully traced the paths his pen had etched onto the paper earlier.

"Yeah, well, I had to make it a little realistic."

Pam bit her lip, her face suddenly serious. "Wow this . . . really means a lot. I was having such a bad day because of - well, anyway, um, thank you."

"You're welcome." They smiled at each other, but after a few seconds, their expressions lost any trace of geniality. Jim gazed at her intently, wondering how far he could push this. He nervously glanced down at her lips. Pam's eyes widened, but she didn't look away. Suddenly his heart was pounding in his ears, so loud he swore she could hear it too. Please tell me I'm not imagining this. Does she feel it too? She has to, there's no way she can't.

Pam broke their gaze and glanced at Michael again ("No, corporate doesn't - just - shut it, Toby! This only happens once every billion years!"), before sighing. "I don't know what I'd do if you didn't work here. You're like one of my best friends. Not just here, but, you know, in general, too."

Jim's stomach dropped. Whatever he expected her to say, it wasn't that. "Yeah, same here," he murmured.

Except that she wasn't just a best friend to him. If she were, he wouldn't feel like he was suffocating whenever she left work, her hands intertwined with Roy's. He wouldn't fantasize about holding her in his arms, breathing her in, while their lips moved eagerly against each other. And, most importantly, he wouldn't be so torn between both fearing and wanting to tell her those three precious words that would undoubtedly shatter their friendship forever.

"Hey, you still have time on your break, right? You want to grab some chips or something?" she asked hopefully, carefully placing the drawing on top of a nearby stack of papers.

"Yeah." He gestured for her to lead the way. Walking behind her, he felt a mixture of elation and disappointment. He forced his uneasiness away, reassuring himself, one day . . .

---

---

“. . . When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

– When Harry Met Sally (1989)

“So, long haul. Where do you see yourself in ten years?”

Jim suddenly imagined himself in a kitchen. The surroundings were unfamiliar, a place he had never been before. It looked homey, comfortable. And there Pam was in front of him, her back towards him, looking out the window. She was dressed comfortably, wearing a thin white t-shirt and pajamas pants. At the sound of his footsteps, she turned around and beamed. “Morning,” she said softly, golden-auburn tendrils falling over her face, her beatific expression framed by the bright ray of sunlight pouring in from the window behind her.

Jim glanced down at the gold yogurt lid in his hands. The answer was so obvious, always there at the back of his mind.

“Not here,” he said simply.

* * *

He spotted her sitting by the fountain, pouring over her Blackberry. She looked so calm – relaxed, even – lounging in the city, a slight smile on her face. Jim shoved his hands in his pockets and walked towards her, dreading what was coming next.

Karen looked up and waved when he approached. “Hey!” she chirped, her expression sunny. “How was the interview? You think you’re ready to be my assistant, Halpert?” She grinned and reached up to kiss him but he took a step back to avoid her touch, widening the gap between them. Her smile vanished.

“Hey,” he ventured.

“What happened?” When they first started dating, he found her straightforward approach relieving, a breath of fresh air. Now it was oddly unsettling.

Might as well cut to the chase. “I withdrew my name from consideration,” he admitted. “I’m not taking the job.”

Karen froze. She simply stared at him for a few seconds before speaking slowly, her voice oddly measured: “I don’t understand, you said you wanted this job, that you wanted this – ”

He shook his head, looking down at his feet. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to happen this way, but I – I can’t do this anymore. I need to go back to Scranton.”

“What?” she breathed. “Why are you doing this?”

Jim paused and looked up, finally meeting her eyes. Her eyes were wide; she looked fearful, as if she knew he was going to say something she didn’t want to hear. He thought about answering in a way that would soften the blow but reconsidered. He hadn’t been honest in the past six months – to her or himself – so what better time than now to come out with the truth?

“I still love Pam,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible above the blaring horns of the cars nearby.

“Oh my God.” Her face crumpled. Karen’s eyes, usually steely and resolute, were swimming with tears. It seemed wrong to see her break down in the middle of New York, the city he knew she loved.

He looked at her helplessly. “You probably hate me, I know that, and you have every right to, but I just – this is probably for the best,” he said weakly.

“Spare me the bullshit,” she choked out, angrily wiping tears from her face. She looked around, suddenly aware of the bustling crowds around them. A few glanced at the two of them curiously before hurrying forward, going on with their daily routines. “God, I can’t believe this is happening.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he stayed quiet. They were like that for a while, Jim fidgeting nervously and Karen sniffling, both absorbed in his own thoughts. Jim was mentally going through their past, silently rebuking himself for not ending this sooner.

After a couple of minutes, Jim shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Well, I’m going back to Scranton now, so, um, I can drop you off.”

Karen made a derisive sound. “The last thing I want is to be stuck in a car with you for two hours.” She wiped her cheeks angrily and glared at him, her expression markedly cold.

“Come on, I can’t just leave you here,” he replied pleadingly.

“I’ll find a ride home. I can – why do you care, anyway?” She shook her head stubbornly. “Go back. Go back to her. Just – just go.” Her voice broke at the end, and she looked away, her lips trembling again.

“Karen, look, I really am sorry for . . . everything.”

“Fuck you.”

Jim sighed, accepting the blow, and headed in the other direction until the chaos of the city drowned out the noise of Karen’s sobs.

* * *

The past week Jim had been living in a daze, going through the motions, struggling to ignore what had happened on the beach. He had instead tried to remind himself that he was supposed to be moving forward, away from the person he used to be.

I wish you would.

But the truth was he didn’t want to pretend to be someone else anymore. Instead he was speeding back towards Scranton 20 miles over the speed limit, going back to where he had been running away from for the past year.

Jim still wasn’t completely sure what he would do when he saw Pam or what she would do. But at that moment it didn’t matter anymore. There was nothing left – no upcoming wedding, no girlfriend – that stood in the way now.

Jim thought back to Karen crying by the fountain and felt a pang of regret. He should’ve ended it the moment he admitted to her he still had feelings for Pam. He probably shouldn’t have dated her in the first place.

He had so many regrets, but pulling sharply into the Scranton business park and rushing out of his car towards the building not one of them. This was right. “Don’t forget us when you’re famous!” she had written on that note. He didn’t want to forget, he simply couldn’t forget.

And then before he knew it he was in the conference room with Pam.

“Um, are you free for dinner tonight?” He gripped the doorframe in effort to control the nerves threatening to break free. Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes . . .

She looked stunned to see him but immediately answered, “Yes.”

“All right,” he said softly. “Then . . . it's a date.”

He gently shut the door and looked around the office, marveling at the change of events. This morning, he had woken up in a different city with another woman, prepared to move there, only to come back to the place he had been ready to abandon (again). What is it that they say? Home is where the heart is.

He smiled to himself.

Yes, it was.

---