He hadn't slept properly for weeks. It started long before the casino night - in fact, he can pinpoint it exactly. It was the day of the drug testing when she had said, "You can tell me anything", and he realized how much he was keeping from her. How no matter what he did - planning his vacation during her wedding, dating other women - there was always something inside him that he couldn't tell her. She was his best friend, and he loved her.

And then Michael, stupid, oblivious Michael, had decided to read everyone's complaints out loud. And his had been the only one against her, because why would anyone complain about her at all? Especially about how she was planning her wedding in the office - unless they loved her. And he was pretty sure it was just him. And Roy, of course. Maybe Michael...but that wasn't the point. She had jumped on the fact that it must have been Angela, and even though she was tightly wound and complained about everyone to their face, he couldn't do that to Angela. So he had told Pam the truth.

And that night after telling Pam the complaints were his, he couldn't sleep. He knew she was probably frustrated with him. They were supposed to be friends, just friends, and a real friend wouldn't complain about the happiest day of your life. He didn't feel like a real friend anymore. But then again, they hadn't really been "real friends". He had always been in love with her, and she had always been blissfully oblivious.

So now that he lay in bed thinking about it for the millionth time, he remembered that the first night he had lay awake wondering about her had been the first week they met. He hadn't thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world at first, but when Michael asked him to introduce her around the office, and she smiled at him, his heart had stopped. And the smiles only became more luminous as they got to know each other and especially when she would laugh. He loved how she laughed - it was simultaneously girly and over-exuberant - and she laughed a lot. It was something that had always made him feel better, so if he was feeling low, he made her laugh, and everything would feel right in the world. The last time she had laughed and smiled like that was when she took all his money on casino night. But he was just torturing himself now.

When he told her he was in love with her and she had said, "You have no idea what your friendship means to me," he could feel his world getting darker. He had walked away, and for once the cameras hadn't followed him. He hadn't known where to go or what to do, so he sat in his car, listened to some music, and tried to make himself feel better before facing everyone again in the warehouse.

The movement of someone going into the main building had caught his eye, even though he was facing the wrong way and could only see it in his rear-view. He had turned around only in time to see a flash of teal before the blur was gone, and the area outside the entrance was deserted again. If she wanted a ride home, why not borrow someone else's phone? Why not just call from the warehouse where the party was still going on? He wondered why she might use the office phone, and then he remembered something small, something obscure - she wanted to carry a nice purse with her dress, but the only one that matched was too small to hold anything other than her ID, some cash and her keys. Not her cell phone. She had been without it and felt a little weird, but she had rationalized the safety aspect by saying how Roy always had his phone on that stupid clip on his belt. She was without a phone, and the only place where she could make a call without asking to borrow one was in the office. Would she call Roy? No - she didn't talk to Roy about her problems, and what had happened between them in the parking lot definitely counted as a problem. Her older sister? Probably not - her sister was married and smug, and they hadn't gotten along in years. Her mother? Yes. It had to be her mother. She called her mom after work at least once a week to chat, and she told her mother everything.

He had been slouched down in his seat rationalizing his way through all this when he realized what was happening - she wouldn't call her mother to talk it over unless she needed a second opinion. Why call if she knew she had done the right thing in rejecting him? This must mean - his mind went blank. He had hoped and imagined for so long that someday she would realize her feelings - because he knew she loved him too. He stepped out of the car, and his hunch was confirmed when he saw the sudden beam of light that shot out of Michael's window. She was up there, and he was sure she was on the phone with her mother.

He felt like he could have floated up the stairs on the hope that was filling him like a balloon, and running up to the office would be childish and cocky, and he didn't want to be either. When he finally reached the floor where Dunder Mifflin had its offices, he slowed down, finally stopping for a moment at the door to take a few deep breaths. This was it. There are only a few lights on in the office and the door was slightly ajar. He could see her desk from the hallway, but it was deserted. He pushed open the door slowly, and he knew she was there before he could see her - a hushed voice, and a trail of lamps that led from the door to a familiar spot - his desk.

He walked in slowly and saw her sitting on his desk. Their eyes locked for only a moment, and he knew that this was it. He took long even steps and kept his eyes down, knowing that if he even looked at her, he would wuss out, make an excuse and leave. He heard her finish the conversation and hang up, but could not decipher the words for the pounding of his heart in his ears - this was it. She turned quickly and said his name softly as if to explain, but he couldn't let her talk her way out of it again. He deliberately wrapped his arms around her and lifted her small body slightly and pressed his mouth against hers. He could feel her resist for a only an instant, and then she leaned in. It didn't feel like the kind of kiss he was expecting – it was longer, softer, sweeter. When she put her hands in his hair, he had thought his heart would burst out of his chest.

And then things began to slow down dramatically. She began to pull away and even though they continued to kiss for a few more seconds, he could tell that she felt guilty. She put her hands on his chest, and pressed ever so lightly, a gesture he took to mean that they should stop. But when he looked down at her again, there wasn't a trace of anger there - in fact, it may have been hope. He smiled and said, "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

When she said, "Me too," his heart skipped a beat. It stopped again when she said, "I think we're just drunk." This had not been part of any scenario that had played out in his head as he had walked up to the office. She was trying to play off what just happened, but he wasn't going to let her. "No, I'm not drunk." he said quickly. And then, realizing why she might have said it, he asked, "Are you drunk?"

Her eyes seemed darker and pained. "No." Her voice sounded like she was not quite sure of why he asked the question, but the fact that she was not drunk was reassuring. It meant that she had intended to kiss him back - she wanted him too. He leaned in to kiss her again. But before he reached her lips, one word came out slowly, "Jim."

That was when he knew he had to ask the hard question, "Are you really going to marry him?" She nodded. He smiled, because the only way he could stop himself from crying in front of her again was to make it seem like he understood her decision. "Okay". So, he slowly pulled away, stretching the last moments where they touched to their longest until only the tips of their fingers touched, and then pulled away completely and walked out of the room. The elevator opened as soon as he pressed the call button, and once inside he leaned against the wall the entire time because he wasn't sure he could hold himself up. He walked quickly to his car, but did not run - he didn't want there to be a chance that she'd see that. He didn't turn to look up at the office window because he thought she might be looking, because he had had such high hopes for both of them to finally admit what had been building up for two years. And he had given up with that "okay," and he couldn't turn back now. He turned off his music for the drive home, and it was the longest twenty minutes of his life.

It had been the most awful thing that had ever happened to him. He had felt like crying when he got home, but the tears wouldn't come. Plus, Mark was hanging out in the living room, and it didn't seem like the best way to enter a room, or the most manly. He had gone to his room and fallen straight on the bed without changing his clothes, and that's where he still was. He looked up at the ceiling and tried to figure out what he was going to do now. Pam had rejected him - twice - and he really did not want to have to deal with that, with her. It was going to be awkward. At least he had already started on the transfer with Jan, but she had made sure to tell him that it wouldn't be ready for a month at least. That left nearly two weeks before his trip to Australia. Time he had already set aside for vacation, and he couldn't change now. The tickets were bought, the hotel was booked, and he had to go. He just wondered how he would deal with working until then.

He stared at his walls and ceiling most of the night, trying to determine the right way to handle what was going to happen. In the morning he knew how to start. He still had nearly all of his sick days - a weeks worth left, and he really wasn't feeling well - in addition to the lack of sleep. So that took care of Friday. He called Jan as soon as he thought she might be in and confirmed the transfer. The sooner the paperwork on that started, the better. He spent the rest of the day looking online for apartments in and around Stamford. Around four in the afternoon Jan called him at home to let him know that he could start at Stamford sooner than expected. The assistant regional manager at that branch had just informed their manager, Josh Porter, that he would be leaving, and Jim could transition to the new position the following Monday, giving him a week of orientation and settling in time before his trip. He and Mark celebrated the promotion by ordering in wings, drinking themselves into a state of total drunkeness, and playing progressively poorer games of Halo on Mark's Xbox before finally crawling off to their respective rooms around 2 am.

Jim had restless dreams for a couple hours, and then woke up and crawled into his bathroom where he spent an hour bent over the toilet vomiting. He tried to tell himself that it was the beer, or the dozen wings that he'd eaten, or maybe he was coming down with the flu. But as he crawled back into bed, body cold and sweaty, he realized that no matter how excited he was about the promotion, or what he had told Mark about his reasons for transferring, he wasn't okay with how things had turned out at all.