He had purposely dawdled in the parking lot until he spotted Martin, because he didn't want to get there alone. He was sweaty-palms nervous. Scared. 

"Hi I'm Jim. I'm new here."

But she wasn't scared. 

Quite the opposite, he had to admit, as she stomped over the awkwardness behind which he was shielding himself, and almost ran to hug him.

"Oh my god it's really you." He felt her voice next to his ear, and it sent shivers down his spine.

"I was just doing a little joke there about how we'd never met-" he babbled lamely.

"I know. I don't care." 

"Awesome," he muttered, as all his resolves suddenly were scattered on the ground.

She had hugged him, her body flush against his, and her smell, something so familiar and yet still so very exciting, was lingering between them.

"It's good to be back. The place looks really good!" He heard himself saying, and his voice sounded shaky. What had happened with all his resolutions? What had happened with acting cool?

"It's really good to see you."

His smile felt awkward, but hers was nothing but one of genuine happiness at seeing him. And then, for the first time since that lunch at Cugino's so many years before, he thought he could see the path, clear in front of him. But it was so scary. It had always been.

"You too," he said, nodding like an idiot, and just as he was about to turn around and find his place in the familiar bullpen the idea assaulted him. The only logical action.

As everybody's attention was on Michael and whatever ridiculous introductions he was making, Jim grabbed Pam's hand and headed out of the door. 

He heard her gasp, softly, but her fingers circled his with the same determination he was feeling. 

Two strides, three, five, eight, the door to the stairs, and it was open, and they were in, and before he allowed himself a coherent thought that could ruin it all, his hands were on her cheeks, and her lips on her mouth.

Pam gasped again, but he barely registered it, as her body pressed against him and his arm indulged in pulling her closer and much longer this time.

There would not be regrets. This time he knew it.

And yet she, amazing as she always had been, reassured him. Her eyes fixed on his, she took the tips of his scarf and beamed. "Welcome back, Jim," she whispered, less than an inch away from his lips.

"It's good to be back," he repeated. But this time he was talking about something else entirely.