Experience. That was something she lacked in certain areas of her life. Even though she was in the magical years of self-delusion between twenty-five and thirty, where you were old enough to know better but could still get away living like you didn't, she also had enough self-awareness to know her knowledge of men was lacking. Sure, she knew about men and everything that came along with relationships but not about playing the game of dating and you can only learn so much from watching rom-coms. She had dated Roy at one point, of course, but the concept of "dating" in high school was more along the lines of her following Roy around while he hung out with his friends, dutifully playing the role of arm candy for a popular football player.

There had been only a handful of dates she had been on as an actual adult, and no one considered them successful by any stretch of the imagination. There had been Alan, which in hindsight, someone Kelly would pick for her clearly would be the exact opposite of what she would want. She had only agreed because she finally could and because the taste of someone else still lingered on her lips. The entire thing had been horridly uncomfortable, from Ryan and Kelly's dysfunctional relationship playing out across the table like a bad B-movie to Alan's off-putting self-importance. She had narrowly escaped that night without even a kiss on the cheek and pretended to not see his look of disenchantment when she walked away.

There had also been Danny. It was clear, from nearly the beginning, what exactly he wanted out of the ridiculous pretense of a date. He insinuated and she feigned ignorance. She slipped into pretending to be oblivious to his overtures rather easily, she reflected, but then again she was well versed in ignoring the obvious.

"What are you doing later?" he had asked as he leaned casually against reception in a way almost reminiscent of someone else.

"Uh, I don't know," she had answered dumbly. Not one of her more suave moments, she can admit that now.

With smile and charm and bravado, his answered, "I do," left little to the imagination. He had thought himself out of her league and she had agreed but went along with it anyway, partly because he intrigued her, partly because she had nothing better to do.

To his credit as a salesman, he had put in quite the effort, even asking her out a second time in hopes of closing the deal but when it became clear that it was in vain, he quickly abandoned the chase. She had thought about Danny on occasion, and what it had been like to be on the receiving end of that kind of male attention, even if the man was only pretending to care about what she was saying.

When she overheard Karen telling Phyllis about the new restaurant Jim had taken her to, she thought about Danny again and about why she hadn't let herself enjoy what had been in front of her and why the reason for that was clearly out enjoying what was in front of him.

Experience also came with age and wisdom, two things that were only born from time so maybe time was all she needed. That and maybe she should have fucked Danny after all.

Like a fool with a masochistic streak, she pushed down her pain to be a good friend. Part of Jim was better than none of him, and if that was all she was given now, she would take it. If what it took for him to look her in the eye and talk to her was listening to him talk about another woman, then that was the cross she would bear. For the briefest flickering of a moment at that break room table, he was her Old Jim and she was his Old Pam and they had never damaged each other.

Like an endorphin high, she pressed her luck for the thrill of another hit, pulling up apartments for rent on his side of town and calling him over. He leaned over her like he used to, his voice deep and breathy against her neck, drawing up something resonant and feminine inside her that had been long forgotten; the warmth of his arm on the back of her chair felt like a revelation. She leaned back infinitesimally when he leaned down for a closer look, so close she could feel the heat of his face on hers, hoping he wouldn't notice; the same way she hoped he wouldn't notice the apartments she pulled up were the worst in Scranton. She was a good friend but she wasn't a saint.

Her buzz was still there when she watched him down in the warehouse, working the cameras and working Dwight and Andy like the masterful instigator he was.

"I think I owe you one," Karen suddenly appeared next to her, happier than she had been all day.

"Sorry?" She felt cold dread begin to work its way up her spine. Happy Karen meant Jim had followed through and her heart began to beat harder in anticipation of its fall into her stomach.

"Thank you for talking some sense into Halpert. Days Inn Room 228 was starting to get really depressing," Karen smiled brightly and she felt sick at actively pushing the man she loved further into the arms of the woman standing in front of her. Honesty was far too difficult when it came to the topic of him and she retreated back into the familiar space of patronizing repression.

"Oh, yeah don't worry about it. I mean, he was being ridiculous," she absently wondered if the color had drained from her face because she felt the fragments she had shored against her ruins falling away piece by piece.

"Yeah, but thanks. Seriously."

What could she say but a mumbled 'sure' before retreating behind the dark shelving of the warehouse, panic washing over her.

The long hallway to the back stairs was the only place she could get to hastily without being seen and she slumped unceremoniously down on the cheap budget bench at the end of the hall. This was what she had come to, this was how far she had fallen, what did she think would happen? Her mind pressed play on its pre-recorded message of self-loathing while the tears flowed beneath her fingers and dripped incriminatingly down on her skirt like a scarlet letter. She couldn't leave but at least no one would come looking for her for a while. For some reason that mental reminder made her bite back a sad sob.

She heard a door open at the other end and his voice of all voices break through the electric hum of the florescent lights.

"Ah, no thanks Kev. I think that poster will be perfect behind your big TV," his jovial reply swept down the hallway and paralyzed her. She heard several footsteps that then stopped.

"Pam? Did I find your secret spot? You can't hide from Mich--"

His words ceased when she lifted her head at him and based on his horrified, scared expression, she looked as loathsome as she felt.

"What's wrong? Pam, what is it?" Faint amusement at his initial reaction broke through her mortifying embarrassment for a brief moment. Concern rolled off of him as he seemed to be poised to call an ambulance, or clear the building, or chase someone down. None of which had ever been offered to her before, rather, annoyed apathy often was the most common reaction any man had ever given to her tears.

"Nothing. I'm fine." She stood and turned away, frantically wiping her face and the streaks of mascara she knew were there and she sensed that he had moved closer. She could see exactly what he looked like behind her eyelids even though she couldn't actually see him and she began to think that this particular skill set was more of a curse than a blessing; she could never quite tell him the truth when he was standing the way he was, looking like he wanted to pull her into his embrace but that invisible tethers were keeping him from it, and that he resented them.

"I don't buy it, Beesly, tell me what's going on?"

She faced him slowly, dreading the look of pathetic pity that he most certainly had at the ridiculousness of her situation. Instead, she saw something more complex, more like a melodic song with notes of concern and pain and regret each playing their part across his melancholy visage.

She opened her mouth to speak but the words died there so she sighed instead, shakily exhaling months of emotions. A wordless conversation passed between them with well-practiced acuity and she knew he had read her like the pages of his favorite novel before sliding the bookmark into the crease and shutting it for another day.

In a moment of foolishness or perhaps weakness, he reached up and wiped a smudge of mascara off her cheek with his thumb. She tried not to close her eyes at his touch but quickly lost the battle and committed the delicate skim of his finger across her skin to her soul and captured the look he was giving her permanently behind her eyelids. She opened them again, realizing he was breaking about ten 'good boyfriend' rules by being there and doing that and she wanted to give him an out. She didn't want to be responsible for a good man making a bad decision. And just like her Old Jim, he didn't take it, defiantly stroking it twice more before finally letting his hand drop.

She slumped back down on the bench, now emotionally exhausted, and she heard him sliding down the wall across from her and taking a spot on the cold floor.

They sat there for a long time, him on the wall with his knees bent, and her on the bench, along with the electric buzz of the lights and the occasional loud voice from the warehouse. Karen never came looking for him as she had predicted she might, making her humiliation complete, but instead, they had been miraculously left alone, the universe taking pity on two fractured souls seeking solace. She didn't want to think about what he told her or didn't tell her, because either scenario filled her with foolish hope, and she had been plenty the fool already.

He never left and she didn't ask him to. And suddenly her grin and her life stopped being so forced.