Jim sat in his living room, his back against his couch and legs spread across the carpet as he nursed a deep bruise on his left cheek with an ice pack. Karen had left a few minutes back; she had insisted on staying but Jim really needed to be alone right now so he told her that he was fine and tired and she should head back; it had been a long day for both of them.

Such a long day.

When Jim had started to drive back from New York to Poor Richard’s, all he had in mind was this inexplicable desire to just see Pam. The picture and that smile and a couple of beers in his system had just left him feeling unnerved and impatient, and while going there and seeing Pam get cosy with her boyfriend might not be the apt solution, he just needed to see her. He’d gulp down a few more beers, tell himself to suck it up, and call it a night.

But when he reached there, Karen and him weaving their way through a crowded dance floor, he heard a yelp kind of sound that sounded like Pam’s and he almost ran through a throng of people. Jim didn’t remember much of what followed; he saw Roy pushing Pam against the bar, people gathering around them as he heard Karen gasp next to him, and Jim almost flew with anger he had rarely felt before surging through him as he roughly pulled at Roy even as he was already stumbling, clearly drunk.

And then Jim’s first instinct was to just beat him up, years of frustration towards him supplying his body with all the adrenalin required, but then he looked up at Pam, and, oh god. She looked distraught; her eyes were glazed with tears, her lips quivered, her face contorted and scared and confused and she looked at him with such an ache written all over her that Jim forgot about everything else and did what he always wanted to do every time even the slightest worry touched Pam- take her wholly in his arms and tell her that it’s okay, that he’s here.

She instantly felt small and curled up in his arms, and Jim’s heart soared and dropped all at the same time. She was sobbing, tears feeling wet against his shirt, her arms clawing at his back as her body shook, and Jim couldn’t help himself as he kissed her hair as told her not to worry, as his arms tightened around her waist, his own throat filling up, his body was still registering even midst all of this that Pam was this close to him. But soon Roy was back up on his feet and had Jim by the collar and even before Jim could react, he felt a punch hard across his cheek in between expletives and accusations of stealing “my fucking fiancé.”

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose as he remembered seeing Pam shout at Roy, something he had never seen before, even as people fussed over him. Karen was right there with an ice pack within seconds, and by the time Dwight and Michael took Roy away with the bar’s security and Pam made his way over to him, Jim was sitting on a stool with Karen’s arm around him as she worked on his cheek.

“I am really sorry about this. You can press charges if you want.” Her voice was flat, and god knows Jim would never forget the look on her face; she looked empty, vacant, like someone had woken up from a deep sleep and had informed her that all her life had simply been a long, elaborate dream. A lie. A prank.

Jim had only shaken his head in response even as Karen asked Pam how she was doing. But all he could do was stare at her, willing her to look back at him and meet his eye, but when he noticed that she purposefully avoided looking at him as Paul appeared to drive her back home, Jim realised that she was doing it again. She was running away, not acknowledging what had happened before he had been punched by that fool, denying that those few moments in which they had held each other meant more than anything, meant everything.

Jim let out a frustrated sigh as the ice melted against his cheek and a fresh jolt of pain shot through his temple. Was he just supposed to forget that and move on? Again? The autopilot he had been working on since he arrived back at Scranton had effectively been drilled through in those few moments in which Pam held him as if her life depended on it; and then she was gone, disappearing like she had only ever belonged in his fantasies.

He felt like he was dozing off right here on his living room carpet with the pain and the never-ending thoughts making his brain absolutely exhausted, but then he heard a knock on the door and only hoped it wasn’t Karen; he just wanted to be by himself right now.

He opened the door to find Pam standing there, still in her work clothes and huddled in an oversized coat, her face stained with tears and her eyes bloodshot.

“Pam?” He wanted to take her in his arms again, reassure himself that this wasn’t a fantasy. Did she drive here?

“Hey.” Her eyes brimmed with tears and her voice croaked. “Is Karen there?”

Jim shook his head silently. She simply kept looking at him as tears trailed down her cheek, and Jim was about to say something, ask about why she was here, tell her that she shouldn’t have driven till here; anything to make her from stop crying.

“I am so sorry, Jim. I am so sorry for this. This is all my fault. I am so, so sorry.” She blurted out in between sobs.

“Hey, hey, come on”, Jim took her hand and almost dragged her inside the door as she continued to look at her feet, sobs and apologies tumbling out of her uncontrollably.

“Shh, Pam, it’s not your fault. I am okay, trust me.” He closed the door behind her and bent his head to try and meet her eye. He held both her hands in his as she looked up a little, looking almost scared. “Hey, Pam, it is not your fault. Get that? I am okay. Stop crying.”

“You look terrible”, she was roaming her eyes over his face now, her lashes heavy with all the crying.

“Um, thanks?” Jim said, trying to sound breezy, giving her a weak smile. She reciprocated, her hands tightening around his.

“God, Jim. What is happening. How did I let this happen? I can’t even…I have hurt you. Again.”

Jim was taking time to process her words. As usual, Pam was vague, and she was also crying so her words were incoherent. But this was the first time ever since that dreadful night last May that she was speaking to him, telling him how she felt, and Jim was scared to interrupt her. He had waited so long for her to say something, anything.

“Roy, he is…I don’t even know what to say. He’s such a jerk.” She was sounding a bit angry now. “And look what he did. I hate that you got hurt because of me. I wish I could undo this, all of this, you know. Start over. I don’t know how. You are always there. You always know. But I always get it all wrong.”

She was rambling now, and Jim had to say something. “Pam, will you relax? It’s not your fault. Roy is a jerk and you don’t have to apologise for that, okay? And I will be fine.” She nodded at him, tears still gushing down her cheeks. “Come on, I’ll get you some tea and then we can talk.”

“No, Jim, I just wanted to see you.” She reached out to touch his cheek, almost interrupting his offer to sit down, lightly tracing is bruise as Jim had to try so hard to not close his eyes and sigh and kiss her palm. “I hate this”, she whispered, looking at his cheek, her voice heavy. Then she placed her entire palm against his cheek and Jim couldn’t resist leaning into it when she was looking at him with her eyes so full.

“Are you sure you are okay?”

Her thumb was moving against his cheek now, dangerously close to his lips, and Jim felt himself shift closer to her despite himself. “Yes, Pam. I am okay.”

“And you forgive me?”

He smiled. Was he even, ever, mad at her? Could he even manage doing that?

“Yes.”

She stood up and placed her lips on his and things froze for Jim, quite literally. Because this was Pam, and she had one palm across his cheek and the other hand holding onto his shoulder for support, and her lips was pressed against his as her tears fell on his cheek; she just stood there, lips unmoving, as if she was trying to remember something before she made the next move. And Jim stood as still; every nerve in his body compelled him to put his arms around her and kiss her, but he was afraid to even twitch; everything around him felt like a shard of glass that would just break in the blink of an eye.

For Jim, an eternity passed before Pam pulled away, her palm falling from his cheek to his shoulder, and she continued to stare at him as she held on to his shoulders as if she would tumble right down to the floor if she let go.

Jim thought he could read every mood, every look of Pam, but this one, the one she wore right now as she looked up at him, her lips parted and her eyes heavy- he didn’t quite know what to make of it. It wasn’t the way she had looked at him at him the last time they had kissed; back then, there was a mix of desire and resignation on her face, a crumbling of her features as an internal turmoil played out transparently in her eyes right in contrast to her definite answers. But today, there were questions in her eyes, there was a slight frown creasing her forehead along with a tint of blush spread over her cheeks; today, Pam looked at him in a way that made it easier for Jim to not lean in and kiss her back; today, Pam looked at him in a way that reminded him of every time that he had put it all on the line, gave his heart to her in words or through his eyes, and every time she had tugged at his feelings and let it go like a top-spin, leaving him whirling and falling around all by himself; today, Pam looked at him with a confusion and restraint that reminded him of every time she had met him ­right there, halfway, and then fled.

So even as she stood there, inches apart from him, her breath on his lips and eyes boring into him, telling him all he had ever wanted to hear, Jim stood his ground and waited for her to say something, do something.

It’s your turn, Pam. Please.

But then her head fell, her palms around his shoulders loosened, and her own shoulders slumped as she whispered, so low that had Jim not been focussing on her like she was the axis of his existence, he wouldn’t have heard her.

“We need to stop doing this, Jim. We need to stop hurting each other. Hurting other people.”

What did that mean? She has to give me more than that.

It was a few seconds before Pam drew her hands back across her chest and looked up, tears drying up under her eyes now, and Jim saw her mask slowly taking form again as she defiantly slanted her chin away from him and looked somewhere in the direction of his living room.

“I mean, you are happy, with Karen, you both are right for each other. Not like me and Roy. No, you guys fit”, she was speaking slowly, but her words were coherent and cleat, and Jim sighed, his body slumping a little.

Here we go. Again.

“You guys are happy, and I am happy for you. And Paul is nice. He is great, actually. He gets me. And things are easy with him, you know. Comfortable. Not complicated. But with you…it’s just.”

She faltered, and Jim stared at her with bated breath even as she refused to look at him. The silence in the room smelt like stale butter and spoilt milk, making Jim feel dizzy and nauseated.

“It’s difficult. We always mess up. It’s just, it is so late. And we are happy now. And we shouldn’t hurt anyone anymore. Paul doesn’t deserve this. Neither does Karen.”

Jim wanted to throw up.

“Maybe even Roy didn’t.” She said this with something like regret in her voice and Jim wanted to shout at her.

“What are you saying, Pam? What are you doing?” He couldn’t hide the pain in his voice, and saw Pam flinch.

“See, I have hurt you again.” She still didn’t look at him, but simply closed her eyes.

Jim simply shrugged. He wanted to tell her that she was a coward and that all this could be fixed, and he still loved her, but he simply shrugged. “You should go back home, Pam, it’s getting late.”

“You are right.” She sounded dazed. Then she quickly turned, looked at him for a long second, and then headed towards the door. “Goodnight, Jim.”

Jim slept off on the carpet that night.

**

Pam remembered how she had told the camera once that she was uncomfortable even at the thought of Al-Qaeda disliking her, that if they would get to know her, they would probably like her.

She laughed at how stupid that sounded, at how utterly true that was. A persistent muscle within Pam just wanted everyone to be happy around her, happy with her. Maybe it came from being the elder daughter and the elder sister, the one who always ended up taking the fall and bearing the brunt to restore sanity in the house. Maybe it came from how easily she let that muscle of her grow stronger around Roy, swallowing and chewing on words and feelings lest they hurt him. And soon that muscle had become her instinct and Pam found herself blind to how she felt, her first thought always being how the other person would feel, and she would react accordingly.

And this was easy, not confronting oneself, not having a mind of one’s own, living how people who loved you wanted you to live. She would only put her guard down a couple of times in front of her mother, usually after she would fight with Roy, but then he would say he was sorry and she knew not forgiving him would hurt him, and so she would give in.

The most honest Pam could be around someone was around Jim, maybe because almost nothing hurt him, or at least he didn’t show it did. She could joke and laugh and whine for hours with him and he would always have something to say to her, to make her laugh, to look at her with eyes so tender that she forget worrying about hurting him ever and just being herself.

But soon, as her eyes had become more trained with his, she started seeing the Jim that breathed behind the jokes and the crooked smiles and cocked eyes, the Jim whose eyes softened every time he looked at her, the Jim who made himself scarce every time Roy would be around, the Jim whose breath would quicken a little when she absently dozed off on his shoulder, the Jim who shoved his hands in his pockets way more frequently around her, as if holding back a part of him.

But Pam was an expert in overlooking things, overlooking herself, overlooking anything that would tamper with the happy little world she had built where she was engaged to a good man, content with her job, used to Michael’s antics, and best friends with a floppy-haired salesman with whom she pranked around the office. Why this salesman did things to her mind and body which no one ever had was something Pam barely addressed; had it been her call, she would never address it, but sometimes he looked at her in a way that made it difficult for her to hide away in her happy little world.

And in those times, Pam fled: when his face had broken as she suggested he move and his eyes had told her that she was the only reason he wouldn’t, she had fled and hid under a joking apology; when his fingers had innocently brushed her midriff but sent jolts of sinful desire through her body, she had fled with forced anger; when he had tipped over a line she had drawn between them by saying that they had been on a date, she had fled because she had been thinking the same as she had danced with him the other night; when she had seen in his Christmas gift all the love she had ever wanted from a man bubble up in a teapot, she had fled and laughed at how he hoarded things from three years back; and when he had held her eyes for an eternity on a deck as he had almost leaned in to kiss her, she had fled literally, back to her happy little world as she set a wedding date.

And the last time she had fled was on a warm night last May, when he had pierced through her farce and pulled her out from a feeling of drowning she wasn’t even aware of, and breathed air into her lungs with his words, air she didn’t realise she had been missing all these years, and she had kissed him before the muscle within her had begun throbbing like a nagging pain and had she fled again, but this time with little resolve, aching to run back to him.

And she had, not run back but slowly find her way back as sheworked against that muscle, against her entire being as she tore herself away from the façade she had started to call reality, and the next Monday, with shaky legs and a cloudy mind she was looking for him to tell him that it’s not all over and he would breathe air in her again just like he had, but he had left. He had fled. And Pam had been so busy fleeing all these years that she didn’t know what to do when the other person flees, when you are the one left behind on a lonely deck, emptiness and resignation taking over your existence and everything around ceasing to have meaning.

But now, Pam had picked up the pieces. She was the fancy new Pam, the one who did not flee, the one who stood ground, the one who put up art shows and made a new boyfriend and had her own apartment. Sometimes she felt thankful that Jim left to leave her figuring out life on her own, building a true little happy world of herself in which she could then invite him to make it happier. And she had been holding on to this strength, to this bravery that coursed through her with every new day she handled on her own terms, holding on a fancy new everything—until last night.

Last night, being fancy, well, as she told the camera crew, it sucked. Being fancy just sucked. The old Pam would have never caused so much trouble around her, shaken up so many things, three men hurting all because of her. She hated this feeling, of things being all haywire, of people looking at her with a weird mix of sympathy and accusation. She hated being the one to hurt Jim, to feel such distance and apathy from him.

She had been purposefully avoiding him all through the day today, the events of last night making her turn red even at his sight. Oh god, what have I done? What was with me yesterday? First, she caused him a punch from Roy, then she went and kissed him, and then fled his house like a scared puppy. Although Pam hadn’t dared to look at Jim after stupidly kissing him, because she was certain that if she did, she wouldn’t be able to not kiss him properly and tell him that she loves him and everything else is a sham and let’s screw it; yet, she could feel his eyes on her, hoping, questioning, pleading. The dimly lit living room with just the glow of his lamp was eerily similar to the last time he had looked at her like that in a dark office, his wrecked face still holding a small smile as if he wanted to laugh at how much everything simple sucked.

Pam was sitting in the breakroom alone, her hands tightly wrapped around her hot mug, her mind desperately trying to find a way to undo the entire day of yesterday, or the entire 10 years of her life if that was in the deal. She didn’t even know what to say to Jim, and had told Paul that she needed some time before she could talk to him. But honestly, she just wanted to run away. This being honest and strong and fancy that she had started with few months back was taking a toll on her. If being honest and fancy gets you to such a mess, she’d rather go back to her old ways and wallow. It would be better than seeing people she cared for wallow because of her.

Jim entered the breakroom and headed straight for the vending machine, not even sparing a glance at her. Pam felt her hands tighten further around the mug.

Say something. You have hurt him enough.

“Sorry about how much yesterday sucked.” Even as she laughed a little in the end, she mentally scolded herself for sounding so casual. That was her defence mechanism with Jim, that is what they had been doing for years- laughing it all off. But this time he barely laughed back, only breathed out a half hearted “yeah”; his back towards her taunted her, as if the world had turned its back to her and no matter what she would do or say now, it’s all gone. Her chance is gone.

“That was nuts”, he was saying, still not looking at her. He bent down to pick up some chips as he muttered, “I am not pressing charges, so don’t worry.”

Pam sniffed back tears threatening to gush again. “That’s not what I am sorry about. I mean…of course, I am sorry about that too. But, I meant, about…”

Normally, Jim would help her out. Turn around, look at her with a mischievous grin, teasingly ask her where she left her speech devices this morning, tell her to relax, and they would soon be laughing, and all would be forgotten.

Not anymore, though. The careful shield that had been built by both of them around their friendship had so ruthlessly been battered now that things inside were barely recognisable.

Now, Jim simply leaned against the vending machine with one of his palms pressed across the metal. Pam could see his knuckles go a little white, and she stammered as she continued. “I am sorry about showing up at your house like that. I mean, what was I thinking, right?”

Come on, Jim. You have to help me out here. You know me, I am terrible at this.

It seemed like the longest second of her life before Jim turned, not meeting her eyes as he said, “Yeah, what were you thinking.” He was smiling, the same way he had smiled when she had told him with a nod that she was going to marry somebody else.

“Jim”. She croaked as she saw him leave. The bruise had made a purple dent across his cheek and she ached to reach out and touch it. She stood up and walked towards him as he reluctantly and very slowly turned around. “I am really sorry. I didn’t mean that to happen.”

She could hear his jaw clench. “Then what had you meant to happen?”

“I had just wanted to say sorry. Make sure you are okay. I didn’t want to lose you again.”

He was shaking his head at her tumbling words, as if whatever she said was gibberish to him, and stepping back.

“Wait, Jim. Can you forgive me, please?”

“Yeah, oh yeah, don’t worry about it.” He shrugged, his lips turning down in an arch like they so often did in front of the camera.

“So we are good?”

“I guess.” A shrug, again, and he was gone.

Nothing was good. It all simply, royally, completely sucked.

**

The office felt even more suffocating today, and Jim hadn’t thought that would ever be possible. He thought that he had seen the worse, and things couldn’t get downhill from here, but today seemed like the longest and the shittiest days of all.

Well played, universe.

His entire face ached; a bit because of the bluish bruise which sat tauntingly at his cheek and which had in one blow reminded him of so many things he had tried to bury away; a bit because of the constant state of frown and clench his face was in, trying to hold back anger and tears and mirthless laughter all at the same time; but mainly because of how his entire being had felt deprived and abandoned, all over again, since she had fled his house last night. Left him, again.

Jim hadn’t thought that he would ever again feel as absolutely wrecked as he had felt in May, when she had all but thrown his feelings away after having him so close, with her hands in his hair like he had so often fantasised. But yesterday, it was worse.

Yep, really well played, universe.

Yesterday sucked. Yesterday, she had no marriage holding her back, and he had no transfer to run away to. After yesterday, they were right back in the office as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn’t held him like a last hope less than twenty-four hours back, as if he still couldn’t feel the warmth of her lips on his and her tears on his cheeks. After yesterday, they sat five feet away from each other and stewed in unsaid agonies, exchanged hollow apologies and some gibberish about how crazy things were.

He had told Karen he was really stressed and off today, and he would talk to her soon. She was miffed, but maybe the gruesome looking cheek of his prevented her from being downright angry. Jim didn’t even know how much time he needed before he could resume his precious autopilot. Last time it had taken him almost a month to even begin to feel normal again; this time, he didn’t think he had the energy left in him to care that much. He already felt drained.

Then he heard shuffling behind his back; his eyes involuntarily shifted to his computer screen to catch her reflection. She had a nervous, almost shameful smile on her face.

The he heard his voice, a deep hesitant baritone. “Hey, can we go for lunch? Just for a little while.”

“I don’t know if it’s a good time, Paul.” She said it so softly, in a hushed whisper, that Jim was certain that no one except his trained ears would have heard her. Him, and Paul, whom Jim could now see slightly leaning over her desk. The ache on Jim’s face suddenly increased.

“Come on, I just want to talk. We can talk about the weather and the latest MasterChef episode if you like.” Jim thought he heard Pam giggle, and then he heard a small “okay.”

He yawned. Yep, he was tired and drained, and everything just sucked.

***