Done with this.

She thinks he's done with her. Is she done with him? She doesn't sound like she's given up hope, but he can't be sure.

He vomits the last of the nothingness that had settled in his stomach into his kitchen sink and contemplates calling her. He's really hungry suddenly, and he really shouldn't be driving...Or cooking.

It's only eight-thirty. She has to be home, right?

He picks up his cell phone and his her speed-dial button.

It rings once. Twice. Th--

"Hello?" She sounds startled - hopeful, anxious, overjoyed and still like she's fighting something off.

"Pam..." He mumbles.

"Jim! A-are you, are you alright?" She sounds genuinely concerned, and she has every right to be. He wants to tell her he's sorry, that he's not done with "this," and never will be.  He opens his mouth and all he can manage is a groan.

"Oh! Kelly, I'll be back. What? No. No. No, I'm good. I just need some air. Yeah. Thanks. Yeah. Alright, Kel." He hears a door slam. "She just...Doesn't stop sometimes," she laughs. Not a real laugh. Completely forced. His chest tightens.

"I...I'm fine. Well, not...Not fine. Hungover. Hungry."

"So eat something."

"I...Can we go somewhere?" He knows that by doing this, he's opening the door to the talk. He's been avoiding this for six months. He's been avoiding everything. And he still doesn't want to talk about it. Any of it. Honestly, what does it matter how the heck they got here? They're here, aren't they? Well...They were.

"Um. Now? Really? Kelly and I were just about to watch -- yes. Where?"

"Anywhere, as long as you can come pick me up. I really shouldn't be driving." He can't figure out why he chuckled saying 'really.' It's not a laughing matter. Not a time for jokes. He thinks he should be angry with Pam over her little quip, but that's going to get him nowhere. If anything, he feels at the least he should never, ever forgive himself for doing this to her.

"Um. Well, it's gonna be hard to get a place anywhere decent...Fast food?"

"Yeah." He sighs. "I'm really not in any condition to be seen too much in public. When can you be here? I need to change my shirt and..."

"Ten minutes?" She cuts him off.

"Great. I...I'll see you then."

"Okay." She sighs. "Jim?"

He doesn't answer. She looks at her phone and sees he's already hung up.

Fighting back tears, she scolds herself for getting her hopes up. He's probably going to dump her, anyway. "I love you," she whispers.

Jim wishes he had time to shower, but settles for washing his face and wetting his hair, hopefully rinsing some of the ever-wonderful "lazy bum" cologne out. He changes into another t-shirt, but chills get the better of him once he steps out the door. He jogs back outside, enveloped in an oversized hoodie, just in time to see Pam pull up.

He wants so damn badly for there to be something he can say to take the red from her eyes, to make the streaks where tears had obviously fallen disappear. When she steps into the light of his porch, he stumbles down the stairs and waits for something to happen.

She just stares.

And he just stares.

After nearly a minute's gone by, he decides he's got to make something happen. He holds his arms out, and prays she steps forward.

She runs into him, grabbing her wrists behind his back. He holds her close to him and lifts her into the air, just holding her.

"You smell good." He whispers. He hasn't opened his eyes since she'd run to him, but he wants to see her reaction.

His chest tightens even more when she smiles and scrunches her nose at him, her eyes still clenched shut. "You stink. When'd you last shower?"

"Right after you left." Honesty is the best policy, right?

"Figures." She kicks him, telling him to put her down. She offers her hand and leads them to her car. "C'mon. Let's go eat."