The pain was so frequent, lately, that it was merely a dull, constant pang in her heart.
It started when he left. Back then, it was occasional. It was when she thought of him, when she missed him. When she let her mind speak in words that had previously frightened her. But that wasn't always. He wasn't there, and the memories of him comforted her as much as they hurt her. It was an ebb and flow; but it only took seeing his face for the tide to crash over. It hadn't faltered, hadn't faded, since he'd returned from Stamford.
Sometimes, she could ignore it. But right now . . . Christ, right now, she could swear it had swelled.
She had tried, in the only way she knew how. Just a hint, a slight nudge in his direction. Her words asked a simple question, her eyes plead something more. Say something. Tell me I'm moving in the right direction. Tell me there's something to hold on to.
"It was just so stupid . . . getting back with Roy, and everything. I mean, what was I thinking, right?"
She had looked at him, his back turned so coldly toward her. Expectant, waiting. Hoping.
"No, I mean, you guys really seem to have a strong connection."
"Not anymore. It's, um, it's completely over now."
She knew she shouldn't have felt so obligated to tell him. It was really none of his business; he didn't ask anymore, and she didn't share. But if he felt the need to tell her that he was seeing someone, back in November when she'd momentarily forgotten the pain, then maybe there was something in telling him.
He started to leave, before facing her. He leaned against the doorframe, a bitter chuckle on his lips.
"We'll see. I'm sure you guys will find your way back to one another someday."
Did he really think so little of her, still? She wondered what she needed to say, what she was capable of saying. She kept trying.
"Jim . . . I am really sorry."
For Roy. For keeping quiet. For Casino Night, for last year, for everything. But she couldn't voice it.
"Oh, yeah, don't worry about it."
It was that simple, that easy to crumble her. At once, she was aware of the pain, pushing itself to the forefront of her consciousness. She hung her head, her eyes focusing intensely on the grainy surface of the table beneath her arms. Maybe if she stared long enough, the tears would subside, and it would hurt less.
Instead, it gave her a headache.
Who was this man? She didn't recognize him. She couldn't even place him with the Jim of yesterday, or last week. He had always been that one voice, that one encouraging word in her ear when the lights around her faded. He had believed in her.
"Uh, Pam?" she heard Steve, one of the camera men, call from outside the room. She looked up to see that, inevitably, this had been caught on tape. Of course. "You alright?"
"Yeah, I . . . wait." She stopped a moment. "Did you just call me Pam?"
"The other guys said you asked that we stop calling you Pammy," he told her with a grin. "Thought I'd indulge ya."
She couldn't help but smile back.
"Thanks."
He nodded in acceptance, heaved the camera on his shoulder, and walked off in search of more material.
Her honesty kick . . . she'd forgotten about the pledge she'd taken. To be more honest, to go for what she wanted. It hadn't gone much further than correcting a beer order. But, if something as simple as denouncing the nickname Pammy got someone's attention, then maybe . . .
She couldn't tell herself that it wouldn't hurt to try, because she knew it probably would. But maybe it would be a different pain than this; maybe it would take away the numbness that she was beginning to feel in her chest. At the very least, perhaps she'd feel more alive again.
Before she could question herself, her legs had already decided for her; they were leading her out of the break room, toward his desk. He wasn't there. A quick glance around only shows her that he's not in the office at all. Seeing Karen invested in work at her desk, she decides to quietly search.
She doesn't have far to go; he's hunched over on the bottom of the staircase, staring intensely at the ground while resting his elbows on his knees. The air is still and the space is silent. The only sound is the faint intake of each shallow breath he takes.
"Jim?" she calls to him. Her voice comes out shaky, but determined, and she descends a few steps toward him. He snaps out of his trance, first looking fearful, before his brow crinkles in confusion.
"What . . ."
"Do you really think I'm going to go back to Roy? Again?" she asks. She's aware that her voice is small, betraying the defiance she's telling herself is somewhere inside. But she doesn't care. Each word has her feeling free, each syllable eating away at that pain.
"Pam, I-"
"Remember last year?" she interrupts him. "Jan offered me a graphic design internship, in New York. I told you about it first, knowing that you'd be excited. And you were. You were supportive before the words even came out of my mouth."
He mumbled something about Roy, about her submissiveness and dreams. She pressed forward.
"Roy was telling me to give up, but you fought me. You challenged me. Jim . . . who are you, now?"
His head hung low, his face lost in the shadows of the staircase. He didn't say anything.
She gives up on confidence. That isn't what's driving her at all. It's this feeling of release; these words were her burden. Something had snapped, and she was unloading them, one by one, and she'd get through them despite the sting in her eyes, or the lump in her throat.
"Have you really given up on me?"
Maybe it was the crack in her voice, the twang that came only from holding back tears. She isn't sure, but something has caused him to jolt back to life, back to this moment. His eyes are on hers all too fast, and she has to look away, to focus on the ceiling. She has more to say.
"I was with Roy after the wedding because he wanted me. I didn't need him, but I needed to feel loved. I don't need Roy, anymore."
When she lets her eyes flicker back to him, he's in front of her. They aren't touching, but she can feel the heat coming off his body, and she can feel her heart beat like rapid fire.
"Tell me, Pam," he pleads, his voice hoarse and low.
He stares her down, and even though she wants to hide, she can't. He was finally looking at her, really looking, for the first time since before he'd left.
The pain is gone, forgotten. Her mind is clear.
She takes a step forward, closing the distance between them.
"Pam . . ."
"I'm in love with you."
She doesn't catch his reaction, doesn't wait for a response. As soon as she breaths the last word, her lips graze over his, her hands secure on either side of his face. She lingers only a moment before pulling back, resting her forehead against his as she closes her eyes. Her index finger slides over his jaw, tracing an invisible line down to his neck. She feels him exhale.
He doesn't say anything, but his arms find her waist and his lips are on hers again, soft and grateful. She glides her tongue over his bottom lip, smiling quietly against his mouth when he whimpers. He responds, his tongue seeking hers hungrily, but she breaks it after a long minute.
"I love you," she breathes softly against his ear.
He simply holds her, pulled tightly against his chest. She thinks she hears a mumbled 'Thank God' escape from him, but the staircase is mostly silent, calm. Her fingers brush through his hair, run over his shoulders, press into his back.
"Pam?" he whispers, as he loosens his hold on her slightly. "Do you think it's too late to grab that coffee?"
"Huh?" she mumbles against the fabric of his shirt. She lifts her face to look into his eyes, confused.
"When I came back; you offered to grab some coffee. Catch up on things. Is it too late to try?"
She has the faintest thought that she should be hurt that he'd made her wait. But instead, she smiles.
"Just on time."
Story Notes:
Don't own anything. In my own world, I own Jim. But in real life, I own nothing more than some dvds and Rainn Wilson's autograph. =(
Author's Chapter Notes:
This was begging to be let out.. so I indulged it. An alternate ending to the always painful episode, The Negotiation. Many thanks to Becky215, goddess of the beta.
Title comes from the Coldplay song.
Warning sign,
You came back to haunt me and I realised,
That you were an island,
And I passed you by.
And you were an island to discover.
Come on in,
I've gotta tell you what a state I'm in,
I've got to tell you in my loudest tone,
That I started looking for a warning sign.
When the truth is, I miss you.
-
Title comes from the Coldplay song.
Warning sign,
You came back to haunt me and I realised,
That you were an island,
And I passed you by.
And you were an island to discover.
Come on in,
I've gotta tell you what a state I'm in,
I've got to tell you in my loudest tone,
That I started looking for a warning sign.
When the truth is, I miss you.
-
Chapter End Notes:
-
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