They haven’t made eye-contact all day, but the back of Jim’s neck is sweating like he just stepped off the court. He reaches around, itches at the curling baby hairs there, and grimaces at the dampness left on his palm.
He knows she’s staring at him under the cover of her computer monitor, has been for the last - oh – three hours and forty minutes. But he’s just still not sure where to look.
“Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam.” He keeps his eyes glued to his day planner and tries not to let the sound of her quiet voice nip at his ears, already feels the prickling at the tips. “Hold please.”
The green light flickers to life next to line 101. Jim hesitates, then lifts the receiver.
“Jim Halpert,” he greets and coughs around the lingering mass that’s been stuck in his throat since last night. It’s Robert Marrow, and he’s looking to renew his contract – that is, if he can get a better deal with Dunder Mifflin than with Staples.
Jim reaches across and snatches up Dwight’s sale book while his desk mate is away, thumbs through the pages to find the latest offer in the catalogue. “Alright, well, let’s see what we can do for you, Bob.”
Bob says he’ll call back later this afternoon; he needs more time to go through the records. Jim realizes as he clicks the phone back into place that he’s probably lost the sale. Dwight comes back in time to spy Jim pitching the catalogue back across the table. He’d love to play along with Dwight, as the other salesman rants about personal property and filling out behavioral reports, but his heart is just not in it today.
When he looks over to Karen’s desk, he catches her tentative eye, and he can’t even hitch a smile for her.
--
He pulls away with a shaky puff of air and even though it’s foggy in her brain and her eyes feel heavy and glassy, it’s all just like Pam remembers it.
His upper lip was kind of salty then, too.
--
“Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam,” it itches at her throat as she says it for the umpteenth time today. More phone calls than usually; that’s how she feels, anyway.
She glances at the clock as the gruff voice on the other end scratches out her name. Her eyebrows knit together and she tucks the receiver closer to her mouth. “Roy?”
He sounds gravelly and a little bit slurred around the edges. She should know this lull of his voice by now, what with all the groveling and pleading and drunken fights in the early summer. “Hey, Pammy, listen—“
“Why are you calling me here?”
“Listen, hey, wait—uhm, Pam, hey, I need to-- come down here,” he stumbles out and she rolls her eyes.
“To the warehouse? What do you want?” Pam thinks there are invisible eyeballs on the back of Jim’s head looking at her; it’s egocentrism at its finest. He hasn’t looked at her all day, but she can swear she sees his shoulders hitch minutely and the tips of his ears tinge pink around the curve.
“The lot, just—come down, would you? I’m by your car.”
“Fine,” she huffs, and despite herself she feels color rising in her cheeks. It’s frustrating, stepping into the same grounds she treaded for years. How easily it fits, and it makes her kind of mad at him all over again. “I’ll be down in a sec.”
He hangs up on her. Kind of odd, and it makes her belly tumble curiously.
--
“Why are you doing this?”
Her voice is soft and whispers against the collar of his shirt. He longs to pull her near, though she’s tucked solidly against him now. It isn’t enough; he needs her so much closer than that. It burns so terribly in the back of his throat. “That’s a good question.”
Tiny fingers dance at the crisp folds around his neck, and her nails glint like glass under the lamp light. He swallows. “Pam—“
“I meant what I said,” she offers, breathy and hasty. “You just—you need to know that.”
“I do,” he hurts as he says it. “And you need to know why this isn’t working.”
She sniffles quietly up in her nose and his ribs begin cracking. He can’t deal with this. He never wanted to be back here.
--
They’re crowding into the conference room for some pep talk by Michael, and all Jim can think of as he sits down next to Karen is the million different places Pam might’ve snuck off to. Michael queries as to her whereabouts and raises his eyebrows specifically at Jim. He feels Karen’s careful eye upon his brow and he simply shakes his head.
As Michael sets into his rambling, Jim lets his attention wander across the windowsill. He sees her pink coat flapping in the breeze, then her red-golden curls. He squints to make out what she’s heading for, and there he seems him by her car.
Jim grits his teeth together and grinds down, a new throbbing beating behind his forehead as he wonders what the point of anything is, anymore.
Karen’s palm glides against his knee and he turns his gaze back out the window.
Pam looks like she’s frowning, but he can’t tell from all the way up here.
--
Her hands keep gripping at him, she can’t seem to control it. Every part of her wants to be a part of this. “I’m sorry, if—“
“Don’t be, please,” she shakes her head at him, feeling very weary. “It’s stupid.”
They both hurt a little at the brashness of a such a word. Pam clears her throat and tips her head up at him, kisses his chin. It’s gentle and her lips are warm, soft, and he’s still not quite sure how to perceive it. He moves his mouth down to meet hers again, nevertheless.
--
Spring’s chill settles into her bones as she tightens her coat around her and approaches her car, finds Roy leaning against it. He’s looking at her with something akin to a pout and a five o’clock shadow paired with bloodshot eyes are affirmation that this is a version of Roy she wants no part of.
She hesitates several paces from him, and she purses her lips.
“I got a question for you,” he’s meaner sounding outdoors than he was over the phone. Pam feels that cautious rumble under her bosom again. “And I need you to be real honest with me, Pam.”
“Roy, I don’t have time for this,” she chastises him and glares at his snicker. Her arms tighten around her midsection in an attempt to soothe herself.
He nods and nods and throws a sloppy glance her way. “Yeah, yeah, you must be so busy up there, answering phones and—“ Roy stops and lifts himself from her car unsteadily, his brows knotting together immediately. “You know, you wouldn’t even have this stupid job if I hadn’t helped you.”
Pam heaves in a calming, chilled breath and levels a certain look at him. It’s worked in the past; even brows, the thin line of her mouth, half-hooded eyes that remind him he is not taking higher ground in this situation. He does retreat back against her car, and she feels better about it. “Is that what you wanted to say to me?”
Roy shuffles his foot against the ground, and she sees him sag a little in his chest and shoulders. Bursts of antagonism aside, she does feel overwhelming sympathy and pangs of despair at such a broken sight - for which she is at least partially responsible.
“I just, I need to know, Pam,” he gruffs down at his shirt collar and shakes his head. “I can’t get it out of my head, and I just—“
“What are you—“
“Did you cheat on me?”
It’s hopeless sound, the way he phrases the question. Open and wounded, and his big eyes that threaten heartbreak strike her down. But Pam can’t help but gape at him, half in revulsion and half in surprise
“Are you serious?”
“That’s all you can come up with,” he sounds bitter as he glances away from her, lip curling.
“Roy,” she starts again, firmer this time, as her cheeks begin to light anew. “I never cheated on you. Ever. How could you even—“
“So, you just decided that after ten years—“
Her hands are up and she’s backing away, the unreason from months prior creeping into this conversation, and she will have none of it. “I’m done with this, Roy. You’re drunk, you need to go home.”
“Don’t walk away from me, Pam!” He shouts across the scant feet she’s put between them, and she turns at his demand. “Damn it, I saw you last night!”
Heart and bones freeze up, and Pam loses her breath for all of three seconds. “Excuse me?”
“With Halpert, I saw you,” Roy doesn’t seem to know whether he should feel like he’s won or rip off someone’s face. “So, you tell me why you looked so fucking comfortable kissing him.”
It is most assuredly horror that keeps her jaw hanging open this time. “You were spying on me?" He doesn’t answer, and it’s all she needs. "Really nice, Roy.”
Her mouth sets and she almost snarls as she pivots and stomps one long stride at a time for the building entrance. As he hollers at her retreating form, her name echoes about the parking lot, but her ears are burning much too furiously for her to make out the syllable.
--
“You should get home,” he tells her silently as his hands slide around the front of her waist.
She nods and she hasn’t spoken a word since they parted. “It’s late,” she concurs in the way that is so strikingly familiar between them. “You’re right.”
And yet. They hesitate and hold and Jim feels anchored by her gentle hands on his front.
“I wish you’d come back.” She says it in a quiet and assured tone as her palm begins to smooth out his sweater. Her eyes flicker up and he can’t help but think, as he has a thousand and one times before, that this could’ve been so easy if only she had let it.
--
Her hand is on the receiver before her body rounds the reception desk. Roy’s thundering footfalls still sound like they’re right behind her, but certainly, he wouldn’t. Nevertheless, her fingers tap swiftly at the three-digit extension she’s only ever used twice.
“Hey, uhm, Hank?” She tries to keep her voice calm and low – glances over to find the conference room full with Michael’s captivated audience – and allows herself a shudder. “Yeah, listen, Roy Anderson from the warehouse is—“
His figure flashes in the glass outside the doors and Pam’s throat clogs with a new kind of panic. “Uhm, here, and I really think you should come up!” Her breath rushes it all out of her and she slams the receiver down as he steps through the portal. He’s pink and out of breath and Pam tremors as the rumblings from the conference room begins to spill into the sales floor.
“Hey, Halpert!” Roy’s voice tears through her senses and her heart race leaps.
Jim hits her peripheral and she quickly looks over, her mouth flopping helplessly at his uncertain glance in return.
It happens much too fast. Roy moves past her and Jim’s eyes go big. Pam thinks she might have screamed, or maybe it’s Karen or Angela, or even maybe Michael. Her hip hits a desk when she grazes Roy’s bicep with her hand, then someone’s shouting from the doorway, and everything goes still. Oscar’s pulling her away from the edge as Kevin helps Jim up from the floor by Ryan’s desk.
Pam is transfixed by the delicate reddening around Jim's left eye when he glances up at her and winces. All at once, she begins to ache almost burdensomely, the throbbing radiating from all parts of her. She glances over and sees Hank snapping shiny cuffs around Roy's wrist, and in the corner she thinks she hears Angela mutter something unpleasant as Kelly and Ryan murmur back and forth.
It should all feel so silly. But it doesn't.
