It’s only his colleagues filtering out of the building that alerts him to the fact it’s the end of the day. 

“See ya, Big Tuna,” Andy croons and it awakens him from his stupor - somewhat. 

He’s spent the entire afternoon parsing the fifty-two words from Pam in his inbox. He unpacks both the messages one word at a time, giving each word a new inflection every time. 

After several hours of doing this, his mind spins with all the alternate meanings he has assigned to each message. 

He has a headache. And a heartache. 

His coworkers leaving settles something leaden in his chest. He hasn’t replied. The work day has ended, and he hasn’t replied. 

Is Pam disappointed? he wonders. 

He would be.

Is she sitting, all but frozen, at her computer like he is, reluctant to have the day end without some sort of understanding? 

It’s 5.37pm when he makes a decision. It’s probably a stupid decision, and he’s putting far too much weight into it. 

He’s going to call the Scranton office.

Now.

She usually leaves before 5.30pm. So, if she’s still there, he tells himself it will mean something. 

It will mean that she’s sitting staring at her screen waiting for him to reply. 

And if she isn’t? Well, he doesn’t like what that means. She’s just sent an email for Michael. Business as usual. 

It’s such a ridiculous test. She could have an appointment after work for all he knows. There are so many factors that may be out of her control that he can’t even begin to predict. 

Even so… He knows Pam. He knows Pam like the back of his hand. 

Or at least, he thought he did, before she crushed his hopes and dreams. 

Then again, even that fit with his understanding of Pam. She wasn’t a risk taker. She didn’t throw away a ten year relationship on the spur of the moment (although, he thought she’d known and felt the same way, so it shouldn’t have taken her so vastly by surprise). 

That’s why he’d come back the second time, at his desk, to really shoot his shot. 

He’d given her time to process. A whole fifteen minutes, which had felt like a lifetime in the moment. 

But now, he wonders if it was enough time. Clearly something, somewhere had changed things for her, she had after all called off the wedding. He has no idea if he had anything to do with it though. 

Hell. Roy could have gotten cold feet at the thought of actually committing in the two weeks after Jim had thrown himself pitifully at Pam and that’s why the wedding was cancelled. That was just as likely knowing the complete buffoon that was Roy. 

He wretches himself from his thoughts. Any more thinking and he’ll talk himself out of it. 

The clock blinks condescending at him. 5.41pm. You’re setting yourself up to fail his mind whispers. Call during business hours tomorrow. But then he won’t actually know anything will he?  Because she has to be there answering phones tomorrow. 

He reaches for his phone with sweaty palms. 5.42pm. She never stays this late. 

His mind conjures up images of better days. Michael’s movie script. Her telling Roy to go home. Grilled cheese. Dwight. Dwigt. 

Ugh. How is Dwight part of his good memories? 

Okay, so she rarely stays this late. There are exceptions to every rule. 

His fingers key in the number as his thoughts spiral. 

It rings and rings and rings and then rings some more. 

He’s surprised at how fiercely the wave of disappointment crashes over him. 

The rational part of his brain expected this. That she wouldn’t be there. So why is he spinning under the depths of his devastation… 

The ringing stops. 

“Hello,” a timid voice answers. 

His heart stops beating. 

There’s some stupid part of her that thinks that maybe Jim has just been busy with the workday and hasn’t even seen her emails yet. 

Maybe he’ll reply after 5 she tells herself. She’ll stay for ten minutes just in case. 

Ten minutes quickly (and yet also painstakingly - how does that work?) becomes ten more minutes and then ten more and before she knows it, she’s been sitting at her desk for over half an hour. 

He hasn’t replied. 

She doesn’t get it.

Who tells someone that they love them and then disappears and cuts them out of their life? 

She doesn’t regret calling off her wedding. That was definitely the right move. 

She just didn’t expect that the two most important relationships that she’s ever had in her life would end in the same month.

She never expected to lose both of them. 

After Jim’s declaration, she knew she couldn’t have them both. That wasn’t fair on anyone. 

So, she chose Jim. Well, really she chose herself. 

But, by actively not picking Roy, she thought she’d at least have the chance to choose Jim.

It’s all such a mess.

A mess of her own making. 

And Jim’s. 

Jim’s at least strewn some of the chaos here. He’d tossed a glitter bomb into the calm, clean room that was her life. Sure, she could vacuum up the bulk of the mess, but sure as shit she’s still finding glitter all over the place. 

Everything is a reminder of him. Especially here at the office. 

She glances at the time with a resigned sigh. 

It’s after 5.40pm. 

She needs to get out of here before she loses anymore of her damn mind. 

She hits send/receive on her emails one final time. The no new messages taunt her. 

She powers her computer down. Tomorrow will be hell. She already knows she’s going to spend the entire day glued to her inbox with her hopes rising and falling like a jackhammer with each email that filters through her inbox. 

She rounds the desk and starts to pull on her coat. 

The phone rings. 

Her first thought is that she’s forgotten to switch the thing over to messages. 

Damn it.

She should answer it. 

Maybe. It is after hours.

Most people hang up after a few rings if nothing happens. Especially after hours. 

It keeps ringing. 

She chews at her bottom lip indecisively. 

Another ring. 

She steps back around the desk. 

“Hello,” she answers and then remembers herself. “Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam.” 

She’s answered by a sharp intake of breath. 

There’s a throat clearing and then - 

“Pam?” 

Her heart thuds erratically in her chest, a hummingbird with wings beating faster than the human eye can see. 

She forgets everything. 

The past few months. The hurt. The slap to the face that was him leaving. 

For a second, they’re them again and she loses herself in it. 

“No, I’m Pam,” she teases. 

He doesn’t answer her immediately and it all comes flooding back. They’re not them anymore. 

Her eyes prickle with the sting of incoming tears. 

They’re not even friends. She can’t answer the phone and joke with him. 

She wants a redo. 

She wants to answer and politely say oh because obviously he didn’t mean to call her. He’s calling practically an hour after the office was supposed to close. He’s trying to get an answering machine. 

He’s not trying to talk to her. 

And here she is, being ridiculous and getting caught up in the sound of his voice and forgetting for a second that there isn’t a giant, gaping chasm between them. 

“What are you still doing in the office?” he asks, confirming all her worst fears. He doesn’t want to talk to her. 

She answers the phone and jokes with him and he knows with certainty that he will never get over loving Pam Beesly. 

The whole time he’s been in Stamford, he’s still been on the hook. The line has been loosened and he hasn’t been fighting against the tension, but he’s still been on the hook. Three words from her and she’s started to reel him back in. 

He wants to tease her. He wants to do a whole bit and say hi, I’m Jim, but the hook jerking him back to her catches him off guard for a moment and he just wants confirmation to the meaning he’s placed on her still being at work. 

He wants her to say that she was waiting to hear from him. It’s stupid and a little desperate. But he wants to hear it. He needs to hear it. 

“What are you still doing in the office?” he hears himself ask. 

“Oh,” the humor has drained from her tone. “Just, umm, stuff. You know…” she trails off. “You?” 

“I, uh, working,” he answers like the coward he is. If he can’t be honest, how can he expect honesty from her? “Checking my emails,” he hedges a whole lot closer to the truth. 

“Oh yeah, anything good?” The teasing lilt her tone is back. 

“Just an invite to the event of the season. I’m not sure you would have heard about it.” 

“I’m pretty sure it’s an e-vite. Get with the times, Halpert.” 

The way his name rolls off her tongue sends a shiver coursing through him. 

If a week ago, someone had told him he would be bantering with Pam Beesly, like old times, he would have had them committed. 

“I can’t believe I’m talking to you,” he murmurs, his thoughts spilling unfiltered out of his mouth. 

He wants to catch them and swallow them before they make it to her, but then she answers - 

“I’m glad I’m talking to you,” and any trace of regret dissipates. 

“I, same,” he says and finds he isn’t lying. He really has missed this, despite the fact it always twisted him up in more ways than he could count. 

“So,” she breathes. “What time is it there?” 

“What time is it here?” He almost laughs, but he’s not there yet. “Umm, we’re in the same time zone.” 

“Oh, yeah. Right.” 

If he squints just right, he can conjure up memories of her pink tinged cheeks. That’s how he imagines her now. Her bottom lip worried between her teeth as she smiles that soft, teasing smile. 

He swallows his sentimentally. 

“How far away did you think we were?” 

“I don’t know,” and then her tone shifts. The levity slips and she murmurs, “it feels far.” 

That’s the understatement of the century. 

“It does,” he breathes. 

“Oh,” she brightens. “If you’re in the same time zone, you’re close enough to come to Michael’s condo’s unmissable birthday party?” 

His heart slaps against his chest, beating out renewed hope. Is that an invitation? 

It’s the closest he’s going to get to her saying please come and hope swells. 

It’s a heady rush. 

This is what it is to be an addict and finally get the hit he has been craving for months. 

He clears his throat. 

“Yeah,” he squeaks, a casual million octaves too high. “I guess,” he adds and because he’s a masochist, he tacks on, “I’ll have to cancel my hot date.” 

There’s silence. He thinks he hears her swallow roughly. What reaction was he looking for here? 

Again, he wants to reach through the phone and snatch his stupid words back. 

“...with my sofa,” he amends, but the damage is done. 

She offers him a pitiful giggle and gone is the lighter, happier version of Pam who had answered the phone earlier. 

Hot date he says and the floor opens up and swallows her whole. 

Of course he has a hot date. He’s Jim. He’s gorgeous and funny and clever. There’s no way he’s waiting around for her to get her life in order.

This is why he hasn’t reached out. 

He’s been busy with moving on.

Beautiful women flicker behind her eyelids, peppy cheerleader types, Pam 2.0s.

She doesn’t measure up. 

When he speaks again she realizes that she’s forgotten to give him any sort of response. 

“...with my sofa,” he throws into the widening distance between them. 

She chokes out a strangled laugh. 

She’s not sure she believes him. Jim would have no trouble getting an actual hot date. 

She thinks back on that mess of a blind date that Kelly forced her on last week. Jim would be so much more charming than that on a blind date. 

She closes her eyes for a moment and imagines the excitement that she - or any woman - would feel on finding Jim before them on a blind date. 

There’s no way anyone would be disappointed. 

“I was kidding, Pam,” she can see him run his hand through his hair as she hears the strained whoosh of air that follows his words. 

“I’m not… dating.” 

“Me neither,” she doesn’t know why she’s telling him this, but she feels like it’s important that he knows. 

“I thought…” he trails off. 

“I did,” she sighs. “I let Kelly set me up, because…” I couldn’t have you her mind finishes. “It was terrible.” 

“That’s good,” the relief colors his tone and bouys her hope. He catches himself. “I mean…” 

“Never again.” Unless it’s you. 

They’re both speaking in half sentences and jumbled truths. 

“So, will you come?” That’s the crux of this whole stilted conversation. 

“I think I will,” he decides. Her palms feel clammy. Her stomach somersaults. 

“I’ll see you on Friday night,” she murmurs although she doesn’t quite believe it. 

“Do me a favor?” 

“Anything,” and she means it. 

“Don’t tell Michael.” 

“I’ll do you one better.”

“Yeah?” 

“I won’t tell Dwight either.” 

She feels like he smiles at that. She can’t see him of course, but she thinks she can hear his smile. Surely their years of friendship can grant her that. 

The cleaning crew are at the door and the first one through throws Pam a look that clearly says what the hell are you still doing here. 

Right.

“I, uh, have to go,” she frowns. 

“Oh. Me too,” his tone is tinged with something that harkens all too much of disappointment. 

“See you Friday,” she repeats as her nerves light up like a carnival inside her chest. 

“Yep, Friday. Bye Pam.” 

“Bye Jim.” 

She pushes the phone back into the cradle, closing her eyes for a few moments to soak it all in. He called. Maybe he didn’t mean to speak to her, but he called. 

She lets the moment fill her. The long dark tunnel she’s in suddenly reveals a sliver of light on the horizon. 

There may just be an end in sight after all.