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A/N: The following is dedicated to all of you, every single person on this archive and the message board and in this community. I've had so much fun writing, reading your comments, and discussing this show with you on the message board and off. Thank you for allowing me a place to come and try out my creativity and support my all time favorite television show and couple.


A/N 2 - Here is a series of 5 what if stories that I never could fully write into multi chapter fics, for a myriad of reasons. I figured if I put them into little snippets, the ideas would stop pestering me - at least the first 4. The last idea is courtesy of Sally, thank you my dear friend.


DISCLAIMER - I don't own anything...

5 What ifs



1 - Karen never existed


It worried him how the mere thought of getting coffee with someone he used to talk to for easily seven and a half hours a day made him feel more nervous than he'd ever been. Not in the way that he was excited about it. More in the way that it made him want to hurtle himself into the past and change his answer to a firm no when she'd asked him to grab a coffee and catch up.

Those weren't her exact words, but that was how his mind processed it. And the more he wished he could turn back time, the more the Cher song played over in his head, doing nothing for the nausea he felt in the pit of his gut.

What he really truly wondered was the merit of returning to Scranton. He distracted himself through the afternoon with the question, was coming back to the place that caused him so much pain the best idea he'd ever had? Anytime he would catch sight of her in his computer monitor, he continued to ask himself if he really gave the job market in Stamford a chance before deciding to accept the number two position in Scranton.

As he packed up his barely lived in apartment in Connecticut and drove back to his home town, he planned to keep things between him and her completely business related. He would only address her if he needed her to fax something. He would swear off jellybeans. He would sit still in his seat for a full eight hours, eyes glued to his computer screen if that was what it took to not fall into the same pattern he had so desperately tried to escape.

The second he turned on his computer at his new desk that forced him to face Dwight instead of giving him the opportunity to easily make eye contact with her, he immediately uninstalled instant messenger. The hug they had shared when he first set foot in the office for the first time in five months did too much to him too quickly, brought back things far too familiar in as little time as it took to inhale, made him too weak that a simple instant message conversation would be too much for him.

How many times can you be hit in the face before you take some kind of action to stop the pain? That was the question he posed to himself as he uninstalled the program, and it made him feel validated.

He had been completely successful at only moving the hand that controlled the mouse, never turning around, never flinching as the sound of her voice from behind him filled his ears as she answered phones.

By noon, he convinced himself that it could work, that he could continue to sell paper, avoid her, and live happily ever after.

That was until he rose from his seat, walked to the break room and pushed the buttons that would provide him with a much needed bottle of water.

If he were nimble enough, he would have kicked his own rear end for agreeing to meet after work. A million excuses as to why jumped into his mind as he watched her hug her arms around herself, the hopeful gleam that turned into complete sadness when he muttered some string of words that told her he had more unpacking to do.

It was when she tucked her head down and nodded that he caved in, turned around and said, "You know, I um, I could go for some coffee."

Her face brightened into a full grin and tears lined her eyes, and a matching grin appeared on his face, despite his efforts to stop it from happening.

He waited for her to arrive in a diner parking lot, and before he could process what was happening, which inevitably was for the better - any forethought would have had him turning his car in the opposite direction, straight back to Stamford, he was sitting across from her, grasping on to a cup of warm coffee.

The minute it took for her to say something after they had ordered and received their drinks felt like a full ten minutes of silence, with only the buzzing of other customer's making conversation as they clanged their silverware. He could have filled the silence with something, an offer of a slice of pie to go along with the coffee. More nonsense about the weather could have been talked about, the way they had as they settled into their booth.

But he refused to open the door to anything - save for the door he held open for her as they walked into the diner.

Her chest moved as she inhaled and he tried not to notice. She licked her lips and he tried not to let his guard down. She stared at him with an open mouth as her eyes searched his face and the surrounding area.

"You know," she finally spoke. "This used to be so easy."

He nodded in agreement, sipping from the mug he grasped so tightly his fingers turned pink and yellow.

Her eyes darted down toward her hand. "Remember that day when I was home sick and you called me during your lunch break and we spent the entire hour coming up with all of the crazy things we would do if either of us won the lottery?"

He nodded again. He could still remember most of the things they mentioned. He watched her features change from a fond smile to an eye roll, to a head shake and a sigh.

Being that he was the person who could always finish her sentences, he completely refused to assume where she was headed with that particular memory.

"I kind of..." She let out another sigh, "I have another addition to all of the other things I mentioned that day. Well, two, actually."

He raised his eyebrows and continued to silently observe.

"One of them is I really wish you would say something."

"Sorry," he apologized quickly, shaking his head. "Just listening. Continue."

"Okay, well, number two, um. If I won the lottery I would build a time machine."

Ignoring the irony, he questioned, "Where would you travel?"

"Backwards."

He bobbled his head slowly, inhaling, trying to ignore the hairs on his arm stand on end. "Any place in particular?"

“Um, yeah,” she took a breath, staring at him squarely. “There are a lot of things I would do differently. But this one thing, this one time just sort of sticks out. Like, I should have said something more than what I said. I mean, it happens a lot, I do it all the time – you know, like wake up days later and say, hey I should have said this this and that.”

“Right,” he agreed, trying to maintain a serious tone and not chuckle at her ramblings.

“If… if I could, I’d go back to that day when you told me you complained to Toby … while we were taking that group picture?”

“Oh, yeah. That was… that was a bad day. For everyone.”

“Yeah.”

When no follow up came, he motioned his head forward. “So, what would you have done differently that day?”

“I would have asked you why you were venting to Toby in the first place if we were friends. I was just so caught up in it, you know? Like something that I thought I wanted was finally happening, and all I saw was the finish line. But if I’d really thought more about why you would do it instead of being so mad that you did. I don’t know. Maybe… maybe that would have done something.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

She nodded. “I’ve really missed you. I miss all the fun we used to have. We used to be friends. I’m not even sure what I expected from today, but you ignoring me wasn’t what I thought would happen.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” he sipped more coffee, his voice echoing into the mug, hoping to hide the edge in his voice.

She raised her eyebrows disbelievingly. “I thought this would be easier, you know? But it turns out, calling two hundred people to tell them you changed your mind after three years just three days before the wedding was way easier,” she bowed her head and shook it.

When she looked up at him with glassy eyes and moistened cheeks, he forgot how to breathe. “Pam,” he let out once his lungs begged for air.

She dried her face with the back of her hand, and before he could react, she placed a five dollar bill on the table. “I should go.”

“Wait,” he called after her, possibly too loud as he put an additional five dollar bill on the table and walked as quickly as he could out to the parking lot. “Pam, wait.”

She turned around and held her hand up. “I didn’t mean to waste your time tonight. I know you have packing to do.”

“I never said you were wasting my time,” he said as he stepped closer to her.

“You weren’t saying anything, so…” she shrugged. “And I have work for my class to do.”

“You’re taking classes?” he grinned. “That’s really great, I’m really happy for you,” he said genuinely.

“Thanks,” she sniffled and rolled her eyes.

“Wow. We really do need to catch up, huh?”

“Nah, I mean, you were right.”

“About what?” he questioned.

“You never come all the way back,” she said, her chin dimpling.

“I guess not.”

“I just need to know, would you have said anything that day if I asked you why you were complaining about me to Toby?”

“I… I don’t know. Probably not. I decided I’d go for the interview in Stamford that day, so, honestly? I don’t know.”

She drew in her lips and nodded. “Okay.”

“Yeah.”

“Just… you know, don’t forget me,” she forcibly smiled and moved closer to the driver side door.

“What?” his voice cracked. “Where are you going?”

She leaned her backside against her car and shrugged. “Nowhere. But I figure, you’ll ignore me again at work tomorrow.”

“Pam, what do you expect from me?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.

“A chance. More than five minutes to make a decision. Because as much as I loved you, I loved Roy too. It wasn’t all bad all the time. I was part of his family, I called his mother mom. His grandmother gave me a necklace that belonged to her. We were a family.”

“Did you just say…”

She nodded. “I did love you, Jim. But you never really gave me a chance. You said you had a crush, then you were over it, and then all of a sudden you tell me you love me and then you’re leaving the next day telling me good luck with everything while you’re on the way out the door.”

“You did… but now…”

“As much as I want to stop,” she widened her eyes. “I still do.”

Something inside of him cracked, his nose filling with the smell of fire – a sure sign that snow would be imminent. When he wound his arms around her and hugged her, he couldn’t help but close his eyes as he tried to memorize the way it felt to have her arms around his neck and the palm of her hand on his head.

And when he kissed her, her lips warm, soft and insistent against his, he couldn’t think of any other place or any other time in his life history that he would rather have been than right there.

.

2- Jim takes the job in NYC


He wondered sometimes, at what point one earned the title of a true New Yorker. Was it surviving five years of subways and traffic and siren? Or did it have to be longer than that? Was it that he had to remain single, putting a job he quickly lost three years after accepting it first instead of a girlfriend he wasn’t completely in love with. Karen knew it. He knew it. They both tried to pretend the elephant in the room didn’t exist.

It had been five years since he’d seen her. Last he heard, she went to some other office in some other part of town. Details were irrelevant when he found out she left the company mere days after he accepted David Wallace’s offer – the ringing in his ears and the white hot nausea overtaking every other function his body could perform.

Eventually it went away, only surfacing anytime he would see someone with curly hair, or hear a song by Travis, or saw a Sudoku puzzle, or anytime he heard a phone ring.

He worked two jobs to merely support himself and keep his apartment, the money he had made in the three years as Vice President quickly dwindling as prices rose seemingly every day.

He had been in the midst of walking from one job to another, mentally calculating how much more he needed to make so he could afford car insurance and a car, when he heard laughter. He knew it was her before he turned around.

For the first time in five years, true happiness filled him.

And when he turned around in the middle of a busy city sidewalk, happiness was ripped out of his chest and replaced with the familiar white hot nausea.

All he could see before his eyes blurred were her smile directed at a pudgy guy with black hair, and a little girl perched in a stroller.

With an outstretched hand, he hailed a cab with ease, promising to skip lunch to compensate for the cost of the fare.

He caught her eye as the cab pulled away from a red light. She glanced away, focusing her attention on the baby in the stroller. It was then that he noticed she had another baby on the way.

She looked happy. He knew he could have done better. He knew he could have made her happier.

He knew he should never have thrown that pink slip of paper with the ‘gold medal’ away.


.

Some days, when one thing goes wrong, it seemed to him that every other thing after that followed along. That day, it was little things, like forgetting to put the ice cream container back in the freezer the night before. The check engine light went on in his car that morning. He almost walked out of his house with two different shoes on. The kitchen faucet had a leak. He tripped while walking upstairs to the office.

Yes, those long talks with Karen every night were tiring. More tiring than he admitted fully. It was painful, sitting there listening to her go on and on about how they needed to commit to one another, how good they were together. How they needed to get to the next level in their careers and move forward – together. It physically exhausted him, to the point where paying any kind of attention to much else did not compute in his head.

He was aware that it would cost him sales if he couldn’t perk up. He skipped the coffee machine and headed straight through the kitchen toward the vending machine.

He couldn’t un-hear it. He could only stand in shock as he listened.

“Two weeks’ notice is usually customary, Pam. But I understand your situation,” Toby spoke in his usual whine. “If you can just get through today, I’ll call the temp agency and see if we can get someone here for tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Toby.”

“I’ll take care of it as soon as I file this paperwork about the stripper Michael had in here.”

“Yeah. I’m definitely not gonna miss this place,” she said wryly.

“Where are you headed?”

“Not sure yet, actually. We’ll see,” she shrugged, standing and extending her hand to Toby. “Thanks for making this easy on me, Toby. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Keep in touch.”

“I will.”

He supposed he should have remembered all of the things he and Karen had talked about for five nights, about all of the things he “uh-huh’d” through and agreed about. All he could care to really think about right then as he quietly slunk back into the kitchen, remaining unseen – why was she leaving, and why was it such short notice.

The year before he would have been privy to the information, she would have told him all about something as exciting as a new job prospect or an opportunity to delve further into her art.

A year later, they barely spoke, they never joked around, and she very clearly did not find the comment he made about the Ben Franklin impersonator being a good pick for her at all funny.

That was the way it was supposed to be, he reminded himself. She didn’t want him.

But as they stood face to face, staring at one another as she tried to walk through to the other side of the kitchen, the only thought that entered his mind was that after that day, he would most likely not see her again.

It should have been fine with him, no skin off his nose, no problem at all. He went his way and she went hers, he reminded himself.

“Excuse me,” she finally said, tears entering and leaving her lower lids. She turned her body sideways to get by him and walked toward the opposite door of the kitchen.

“You’re leaving?”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” she muttered as she continued to face the door. “I’d ask you not to tell anybody, but apparently you tell your girlfriend everything, even if you kiss someone and it doesn’t matter to you, so, whatever.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Just like you told her. It didn’t mean anything. It was just a kiss,” she spoke stoically, walking calmly back to the main office toward her desk.

Seven cuss words passed through his mind though he chose not to verbalize any of them. He didn’t have the energy to.

He walked slowly toward the reception counter, his hands tucked into his pockets. It hurt him in ways he couldn’t describe to see her packing things into a box.

“It didn’t mean anything. If it did…”

She cut him off. “It’s fine. You’re right. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Michael’s gonna flip,” he said.

She nodded. “I know.”

He expected her to follow her statement with more details, an explanation, something.

“Do you need something, Jim?”

“So you’re just gonna leave, that’s it?”

“Yeah.”

Karen walked into the office as he was about to ask for more information as to where she would be going, why she planned to leave so abruptly, or the other hundred questions he had rolling around in his mind.

“Doing some spring cleaning?” Karen asked, eyeing both he and Pam suspiciously.

“Something like that,” Pam said coolly.

“Oh good,” Karen replied, turning to glare at him. “How about we get an early start on our sales so we can make what we talked about happen,” Karen said before walking toward her desk.

He rolled his eyes and walked back to his desk. The rustling behind him ceased after a few minutes, the noise replaced by a ringing phone. On the third ring, he turned around, only to find that no one sat behind the desk. He sighed, hoping to catch her at lunch to try to talk to her without Karen seeing. He wasn’t in the mood for another long chat.

An hour later, he called her cell phone while he took his break. It had been disconnected.

Three months later, Toby mentioned that he had heard from her, but she didn't say where she lived or what she had been doing.

He knew then, nothing would ever taste, smell or feel like anything, except empty.

.

4 – Pam goes to the convention


He's too excited to realize what he's doing. He's still far too giddy from finding a hooker in Dwight's room to even think about what he's doing. She's the first person he sees as he walks down the hall, his hand covering his mouth.

The only thing he notices is that she's there, walking down the hallway with a can of soda and a bag of chips in her hand, wearing mismatched pajamas, her hair pulled into a pony tail and her glasses resting on the bridge of her nose.

"Oh my god," he lets out as he approaches her, trying to keep his voice in a whisper.

"What?" her face brightens instantly.

"There's a hooker in Dwight's room."

"No," her eyes widen. "That can't be right."

"It is. I have his room key," he holds up the plastic card.

"Obviously," she laughs.

"I open the door and that was definitely a woman's voice saying 'Dee.'"

She shakes her head and her eyes sparkle and he forgets that he hasn't spoken to her in months and there are still parts of him scattered, broken.

"Dwight wouldn't do that to Angela," she whispers.

"Nah… that's… Angela?"

"Yep. It has to be."

He quirks his mouth and shrugs, letting out a defeated sigh. "Oh well. So, I guess your theory was right after all?"

"Yep," she nods.

"And you didn't tell me?" he laughs as he speaks.

"I was saving it for a special occasion," she grins.

He stands there, watching her smile and he remembers the cruise, the denial, the admittance, the rejection, all in a wave that hits him and breaks him again, the pieces he'd been able to gather in Stamford falling away again.

"Sorry," he clears his throat. "I'll let you get back to your snack."

She points to the hotel room door. "Wanna come in? I mean… if … if you're not busy."

"No… I um, have a few things I need to do."

"Right, yeah. Sorry. Big promotion probably comes with a ton of things to do," she smiles weakly, turns around to the door and pushes the key card into the slot, her head bowed down and walks into the room. "It was great seeing you, though. Have a good night. Good luck with everything."

His instinct tells him to change his mind, to knock on her door and accept her invitation. He stops his clenched fist from making the connection with the white metal and walks towards his room. He spends ten minutes convincing himself that he made the right decision and another ten minutes trying to find something on television to drown out the voices in his head.

Closing his eyes doesn't help - all he sees is her face. Raising the volume on the television is pointless - he can only hear her laugh. Recalling rejection somehow doesn't validate anything for him - it would have if she hadn't asked him to come into her room.

Overly preoccupied with his thoughts, his head resting against the wooden headboard, he misses the sound of knocking at his door until it becomes repeated thuds.

He opens the door to find her standing there, looking smaller than she had moments before when they were in the hallway.

"How did you know which room I was in?"

"The front desk. I said I was part of the Dunder Mifflin group and they gave it to me. I mean, it's not a lie; I'm technically part of the group. Michael sort of forced me into it," she rambles. "I mean, he really just asked once, and I said yes, but… you know. Um. I just…"

"Are you okay?"

She shakes her head. "No."

"Do you wanna sit down?" he points behind him toward the desk chair.

"No… it's… it's okay. I just wanted to say goodbye."

"You're leaving? It's late, though. You shouldn't travel by yourself this late at night."

"I'll take a car service to the train. Michael made this huge sale with and he said tomorrow I was off duty. So I mean, it's silly for me to stay here."

"Okay, but I don't like the idea of you traveling around at this hour. At least wait until morning."

"Maybe, we'll see," she shakes her head and fidgets on her bare feet. "I just wanted to tell you that…"

"What?"

"I'm really gonna miss you. More than I already do now," she swipes a tear away with her finger, startling him as she hugs him.

He pulled her closer, letting the door close as he moved her inside. The sound of the door clicking shut made her jolt back and step out of their embrace. Her eyes washed over him, from head to toe, as if she were drawing him into her memory for safe keeping.

"I'll never forget you, Jim. You meant so much to me, even if you don't realize it. You're the reason I'm single now, and I know I should've called you … or maybe not. I don't know. What would I have said? And I mean, you've moved on. I just wanted to say goodbye the right way, so I can move on too."

"No," he demands.

He thinks to tell her that he doesn't want her to move on, that he hasn't moved on, that he misses her every minute of every single day. That they made too many mistakes and he's tired of walking around avoiding talking about their real feelings. That he wanted to marry her from the day he met her, and he still feels no differently.

Instead, his hands find her cheeks and his lips find hers and her key card falls to the floor as her hands creep up his back and the material of his shirt gets caught up in her fists.

He takes the following day off, telling his boss that he has a bad case of food poisoning. He tries not to laugh as she tickles her fingers over his bare chest as he leaves the voicemail.

Before they could figure out how a long distance relationship could work, the Stamford branch merged with the Scranton branch.

Two years later, they welcomed their daughter, Cecelia Marie Halpert, into the world.

.

5 - Roy punches Jim


He couldn't tell which hurt worse - his fractured nose or his ego. The only thing he really did know - getting punched in the face by the boyfriend of the girl he loved in front of the entire office made him want to crawl into a hole. And getting dumped by his girlfriend a few hours later made him wish that if he found that hole, he wanted it to fill up with water so the pain would stop.

He couldn't avoid her. Hospitals were funny that way, during visiting hours just about anyone could come and go.

He listened to her explain the reasons why she had gotten back with Roy, the reasons why she couldn't make that decision so quickly when he told her he loved her and he listened to her continually apologize as she held an icepack to his face.

Talking hurt, moving hurt, breathing hurt, and it had nothing to do with the fact that his entire face was black and blue from having his nose fixed.

He wanted her to leave, he wanted her to stay. He wanted to ask her to stop apologizing, to stop sobbing and to lie down next to him but the bed wasn't big enough. He wanted to ask her to go home, to leave him alone and let him go back to whatever kind of normal life he could have.

It hurt him to hear her take full blame, it burned the back of his throat when he heard her say they weren't friends anymore, that she wished he didn't hate her anymore, that she called off her wedding because of him.

What made him ache from the inside out was when she said, "I thought telling him you and I kissed would make a clean slate. I had to tell him. You… you told Karen and I mean … I tried to tell him that it was no big deal like you told her, but … I'm sorry," she continued to apologize.

Doctors came in to examine him and he heard her walk out of the room, her heels clicking on the tile. When they left, letting him know they would release him the next day, she didn't return.

Painfully, he moved his head to the right and watched her walk away. He pressed the button for more pain medication and his eyes closed.

He drifted to sleep, feeling a delicate hand cross his forehead, warm lips gingerly kissing his hand. He tried to open his eyes, but they felt glued shut.

"I love you so much, Jim," her voice whispered in his ear.

He grabbed onto her hand and held it.

When he woke hours later, he found her sitting awkwardly in a chair next to his bed, her head on his chest, her hand still in his.

.