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Author's Chapter Notes:
Jim comes closer to the surface.

White. White. WHITE.

Not just light, incandescent, formless, vivid.

Bright white light.

Not enough to wake up. No, waking up was…not on the agenda.

But enough to go from formless emptiness to dreams.

He was on a boat—not like on the Booze Cruise, that was more of a ship, a boat, with two oars and two seats—and he was drifting.

He wondered who was supposed to be in the other seat.

Pam?

No, it couldn’t be Pam. He’d screwed things up with Pam, blow that all to smithereens with a misguided and mis-timed declaration of love.

Or had he?

She’d kissed him back, after the declaration of love.  After she’d said “I can’t,” she had. She’d admitted she wanted to kiss him, admitted she wasn’t drunk.

She’d nodded when he’d asked if she was still going to marry Roy.

But she hadn’t said it herself.

Why did he bring Roy up? Why then? What stupid drive compelled him to push push push when she was already so close?

It was precisely because she was so close that he’d pushed, of course. And that was a mistake. But she felt it, he was sure of it. Felt it just like he did, except she had Roy to think of so it didn’t consume her the way it did him, because she couldn’t give in to it. But she felt it, and that was everything.

But if it was Pam who was supposed to be in that seat, why wasn’t she?

Oh. Because you left her, you complete idiot. Because you transferred to Stamford without saying goodbye, because you were on your way to Australia without even talking to her once more after that night, because you dumped all your emotional shit on her without giving her time to breathe.

Hmm, just as he thought that he realized that those clouds in the distance looked really unpleasant.

It would probably help if there were, say, someone else rowing with you right now.

Or if you had a destination.  Besides “away,” I mean. No, Stamford doesn’t count.

He looked over his shoulder. Land ho. Of course it was behind him. He was in the act of leaving everything he cared about, everything that mattered, behind him.

He heard a voice breaking through the clouds. “I did.”

Pam?

The rain came. It soaked his skin, filled the boat. How does a boat keep floating when it’s full of water? Convenient that dreams have their own logic, he mused. He sat in the waterlogged boat wondering how to get it moving.

Well, if Pam were actually here I’m sure she’d have some idea for you. Too bad you didn’t keep in touch.

He sighed. Running away from Pam had seemed like such a good idea—scratch that, like a necessary piece of self-preservation—and he’d run. Like a coward. All that courage he’d screwed up on Casino Night had apparently been a one-time thing because as soon as it was spent he was out of there. Even when he wasn’t out of there yet, because he’d still had a month to go before his Australia trip, he’d found a way to not be there, working “remotely from Stamford” instead of sucking it up and going in to work at Scranton. And now he was on his way to Australia. OK, that one he couldn’t blame himself for—except for the fact that it was June you idiot. Also known colloquially as “winter in Australia.” Well, at least he was pretty sure they had beer there year-round, though he hoped it was better than that Foster’s crap—and if it wasn’t, hey, he could drown his dual sorrows about Pam marrying Roy and him being a total idiot about it just as easily in cheap beer as in expensive.

He wondered where he was in the trip. He oddly didn’t seem to recall actually going to the airport, even though he was sure that he must now be on one of the two big flights—Philadelphia-LA, LA-Sydney—if he was getting this much sleep. That light must have been the cabin lights, or maybe he had gotten a window facing the sun. Wherever he was, it wasn’t Scranton, PA, where he was rapidly beginning to realize he belonged. He gave up on the water, and the rowboat, and the clouds, and let the sleep roll back in.

Chapter End Notes:
Turns out it's not just Pam who has some guilt to work through. Next episode, find out what Pam said to Larissa about the painting. Thank you to all who have read and reviewed. I'm glad to hear from you.

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