Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or The Office. No copyright infringement intended.

♥

Don’t look at her. Stop watching her from your peripheral vision. Stop it! She just looked at me. For a second. Maybe she was looking at something else, actually. She’s looking at me again. Can she tell how hard I’m trying not to watch her? Okay, seriously, stop. Karenkarenkaren. Think about Karen. Karen’s nice, isn’t she? And she’s really pretty. Karen is a nice girlfriend who has been there for me when I needed her. She didn’t reject me. She has feelings for me. Karen has feelings for me. Pam doesn’t have feelings for me. Dammit, she’s not looking at me anymore.

Jim Halpert wished it were possible, if for just a moment, to forget that the love of his life was sitting a few yards away, and forget that the love of his life didn’t seem to understand that they were meant for each other. He couldn’t see how everyone else in the room seemed to find her as nothing more than ordinary. How could they all be so blind? Why weren’t they fumbling over her, practicing imaginary conversations with her in front of the mirror? Out of the corner of his eye, she wrinkled her nose at an itch, and swiped a finger at the bangs hanging over her eye. Why was that gesture so perfect? And why didn’t anyone else notice?

He couldn’t help remembering what it had been like to scoop her into his arms and kiss her all those months ago. That one moment in which they had belonged to each other. It had been here... right here, in this spot next to him. It was a magical concept that if he could rewind to that day, this is where he’d be. It was like being blocked from a moment only by the illusory barrier of time. Because if time didn’t move, he would always be here, at his desk with Pam, holding her, kissing her.

"Hey," Karen said. She leaned on his desk where Pam was supposed to be pressed against as he kissed her, and the memory dissolved.

"Hey," he greeted back, quickly shaking every thought of Pam out of his system.

"Ugh. So I am absolutely bored out of my mind. Let’s do something after work."

"Sure. Yeah. Did you have anything in mind?" Jim asked. Karen’s eyes brightened, but she held her smile under restraint.

"I don’t know. I figured we could have a nice, romantic evening together, go to a fancy restaurant. Then you can come back over to my place, and I’ll make you desert." He couldn’t help it. His eyes wandered left of her ear, and caught Pam watching them, her lips pursed together and her eyes sorrowfully soggy. She quickly turned her gaze towards her computer.

While his mouth uttered a response, his heart faltered at the broken look that was in Pam’s hazel eyes. It stung him somewhere deep in his chest to see her small face laced with anything but her beautiful glow of laughter. The sadness slipped away from her expression the second she looked away, but something unperceivable in her remained melancholy.

Why am I still doing this? Why am I still pushing Karen away and trying to welcome Pam when she isn’t interested? I’ve reached out to her so many times. There’s no point in dwelling over her any longer... I mean, I could try again, theoretically. No, I won’t. Well, she’d have to reach out to me for once. But what am I supposed to do? I can’t stop thinking about her, looking at her. Just catching her eye for a moment is enough for me to withdraw from Karen. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know...

♥

By the end of the day, Pam felt like a gray lump of misery, and she couldn’t even blame someone else for all of her problems. They were completely her fault. She couldn’t blame Karen for swooping into the picture to take a single man. All she could do was mope, and it made her sick to be so useless. But seeing Karen lean against Jim’s desk, overhearing them plan an intimate date together for after work, and watching Jim move on were unendurable feats when she was still stuck in the past.

"See ya, Beesly," Jim said as he took his coat off the coat rack. He headed towards the door. Courage and honesty, Pam, she reassured herself.

"Jim?" At the sound of her call, he turned around and made quick steps back to her desk. She had itched to talk to him all day, and this felt like the right time now that Karen had already left.

"Yeah?" He looked down at her, his lower lip drawn in slightly under his teeth. She massaged her long fingers in nervousness, and remembered the weight that was lifted from them the moment she returned the diamond ring she had once worn.

"I wanted to thank you for helping me out last Monday." She let out a large breath of relief, finally having admitted it. "You’re the only person that cared enough to ask me how I was doing after what happened with Roy, and it made me remember how much I appreciate your friendship. So, thanks."

"Don’t mention it," Jim interrupted.

"Let me know if I can make it up to you," she said. He ducked his chin to hide the corners of his lips folding upwards.

"Too bad I don’t have any insane boyfriends like Roy that you can help me out with. Then again, I don’t have any boyfriends, sane or not."

"True, but Dwight’s your desk mate, and he borders on insanity."

"Borders on insanity? I think he crossed that line a long time ago." Pam’s cheeks turned a soft shade of red as she laughed. That hypnotizing laugh.

"Well, if I can think of a way to help you deal with your insane desk mate, I’ll let you know."

"You’re the one with the shredder. Can’t you shred his contract?" She laughed again, and he felt the blood rushing to his feet.

"I’ll see what I can do to save you from him. Night, Jim."

"Night, Pam." They smiled at each other one last time.

♥

Karen pulled the oven door open, and bent down to peak inside, the rush of heat with the heavy smell of butter and sugar splashing her face.

"Oh, they’re perfect!" she called out loudly to Jim who was in the other room with a cup of coffee. She reached in, grabbed the metal tray of sugar cookies with her thick oven mitts, and pulled it out. Kicking the oven door shut with her foot and placing the hot tray on the counter, Karen relished in her accomplishment. Despite years of one horrible cooking disaster after another, she had managed not to burn the cookies on this special night. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, Karen thought to herself as she placed her hands on her hips like a defiant super hero. Everything was going just as she had planned, and minus a few butterflies, she was pretty confident with the way the evening was unfolding.

"They smell pretty good," Jim yelled from the other room. Karen shed the oven mitts, and returned to living room. She sat down next to him in the couch, one leg folded under her.

"They’ll be ready to eat in a few minutes. Just have to wait for them to cool a little bit."

"Good thing I didn’t eat too much at the restaurant. Left plenty of room for dessert."

"It’s been a good night, hasn’t it?" Karen asked, her words ignited with hope.

"Yeah, it has," Jim assured. "I can’t say I appreciated the guy next to us who was coughing bronchitis everywhere, though. Nothing like the sound of a man spewing phlegm while you’re eating."

"Ugh, I know. It’s pretty much my favorite sound to hear during dinner." Jim smiled.

The small talk continued, and the moment she had planned all of this for was approaching quickly. Still, she remained confident. She imagined what his face would look like: that slow, warm smile of his, passion in his eyes, and his soft lips parting into a smile. It was going to be so great.

Karen returned from the kitchen with the warm cookies piled on a large plate that she placed on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Wow, these are really good. I thought you said you couldn’t bake?" Jim said, his words muffled by the half-masticated cookies in his mouth.

"I guess I can bake if I’m doing it for someone special," she said quietly. Jim looked up at her, her eyes deepening with seriousness, and he smiled back awkwardly. Once he swallowed, Karen slid forward to him, and placed one hand on his knee. Holding the back of his head with her other hand, she kissed him. He kissed back (complacently?), and his tongue tasted like sugar cookies. They parted, and she felt the blood of her body engulf her heart.

"Jim, I need to tell you something, and it’s important. It’s pretty much the reason I wanted to do this tonight," Karen said. Jim nodded his head.

"What is it?" he asked. Karen quickly shot out a breath, closed her eyes for a moment, and collected herself.

"Okay," she began. "I love you." A single tremor shook over her arms as all the nervousness fled, and she was left with nothing but an elated smile on her face. But as the silence between them grew, and the shock on Jim’s face wasn’t mirroring happiness, Karen finally started to worry.

"I... I’m sorry," he whispered. He bowed his head, and stared down at his lap. "I can’t say it back." Karen looked away, and stiffened her lips. The awkwardness suffocated them both, and left the room silent for a few moments.

"Great." Her body wanted to tremble, and her circulatory system seemed to unwind within her. Jim rubbed his eyes with his hands, and he sighed. "Maybe you should go," she managed to choke out. He didn’t answer. He wouldn’t even look at her. He only collected his coat, and walked out the door.

Karen sat alone on the couch for a minute, the smell of fresh cookies still hanging on the air. She felt like crying, but she sat still, breathing hard with her eyes closed until the threat of tears had finally passed. She grabbed the plate of sugar cookies, and threw the last remnants of what was supposed to be her perfect evening in the garbage.

♥

When Jim came into work the next morning, Karen was already sitting at her desk. She kept her nose tilted down at her work, ignoring him in defiance to restore her dignity. He tried to get her to at least look at him by unabashedly staring at her, but she wouldn’t comply. He gave up, and decided to just sit down. He’d try working things out with her later.

Putting his messenger bag down next to his seat, he noticed that Pam had already laid out his messages on the desk. He picked them up to read them as he took off his coat and sat down. Two clients had called about closing a deal. A third note read:

"Someone called to tell you that it appears all of Dwight’s stuff has been moved and rearranged on the desk across from Creed in case you want to convince him that he switched desks weeks ago, and just has amnesia."

Jim jerked his head up to reception, too stupefied to think. The redheaded receptionist was looking back at him, a fist held up in front of her fresh coral lips that split into a beautiful smile. Her eyes burst with mischievous delight. She winked at him before turning to her computer, and Jim forgot that anyone else existed, forgot about the girl who had openly confessed love to him sitting a few yards away.