It’s not that he doesn’t care anymore. Deep down, he knows he does. He’s simply reached a point where he’s able to look the other way from all of it. If she’s made the decision to go back to Roy, what the hell is he supposed to do about it? 

He never understood. He will never understand. So what’s the point in trying anymore?

The past few days have been weird between him and Pam, and not because things are particularly awkward, but because he’s been deliberately avoiding her since the wedding. He’s trying to focus on Karen and their relationship – something that has actual potential – and he’s been pretty successful at thinking less and less about Pam, their history… and that kiss. There are moments throughout each day he can actually forget, which for him is a huge step. A breakthrough, really. While the idea of distancing himself from her both physically and emotionally is painful, it is making evolving easier.

That’s a good thing. It’s what he wants, after all. 

Isn’t it?

It’s the end of the day on Friday, and everyone is packing up to go home. The weekends have become a sort of reprieve for him lately; two precious days where Pam does not have to exist. This weekend, it’s two precious days Pam and Roy don’t have to exist.

But tonight, the reprieve does not arrive.

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you think you’re about to die, but for some reason when Jim sees Roy’s fist headed for his face all he can think about are Dwight’s warnings about bear attacks: how they always come when you least expect them. 

At this point, however, he’d prefer the bear.

As if summoned by Jim’s panicked thoughts, Dwight comes to his rescue, taking Roy down. And just as quickly as it happened, it’s all over. Jim’s first reaction is pain from the pepper spray floating in the air all around them. He can hear Roy screaming in agony on the floor, and feels Karen’s hands on his back, asking if he’s okay.

Suddenly his pain morphs into anger. Karen was standing right next to him. Roy could have seriously injured her, without even intending to. It’s not like Roy cares where he throws his weight around – Jim has seen it all before – but maybe that’s what makes it all worse. 

His eyes are blurred with tears and he can’t see anything but he hears the general panic in the bullpen around him, hears Dwight calling for security and Pam making the call. When he can finally see through aching watery eyes, Oscar and Toby have Roy pinned on the ground, even though Roy already appears to be incapacitated. Will and Brian the boom guy are both standing away from the fracas, and Delilah looks slightly stunned at what’s transpired. Eventually, the security guard (Jim can never remember his name, dammit) arrives and escorts a moaning Roy out of the office. 

Jim glances over at Pam for the first time since the attack, and she’s looking right back at him. Her eyes are red and puffy and he isn’t sure if she’s crying or just experiencing the effects of the spray, but she looks absolutely miserable. He doesn’t have to ask her if this was about their kiss on casino night. Surely that’s exactly what happened: the secret is finally out, and Roy has merely demonstrated his territorialism in the way that suits him best.

And now the entire fucking office (not the mention the documentary crew) knows exactly how far this messy love quadrangle has gotten.

He looks away from Pam. He can’t look at her anymore. For the first time in perhaps as long as he’s known her, he has no desire to.

Jim tries to leave as quickly as possible, but Toby intercepts him on the way out. Is he hurt, will he press charges, et cetera, et cetera. Toby is only doing his job, of course, but Jim just needs to get out of here. He needs his weekend and he needs it right now.

Karen talks his ear off the entire way home about Roy, and how she never would have seen that coming. It’s white noise to Jim because he’s very aware this could have been coming at some point. It’s not his fault Roy is a meathead, but he’s cognizant of the fact that it’s certainly his own fault that any of this happened in the first place.

He's pissed at himself for confessing his feelings in the first place. He’s pissed that Pam told Roy at all, even though he knows it’s hypocritical to think so. He’s pissed his weekend is ruined, because surely now all Karen is going to want to do is talk about the incident, and why Roy tried to attack Jim, all the while getting closer and closer to figuring out that he’d downplayed what happened between him and Pam. 

He’s pissed about all of it, but above everything else, he’s pissed that he’s thinking about that goddamn kiss again. Just when he thought this whole thing was starting to go away, it seems to have returned, louder than ever.

He and Karen spend the whole of Saturday exactly the way he’d predicted, and he’s so exhausted by all of it he feigns an illness on Sunday to get out of her latest inquisition. He stays in his apartment all day and watches a Reno 911! marathon to get his mind off everything.

By Monday, he goes back to the office, feeling somewhat refreshed and prepared to deal with whatever remains of the incident. Hopefully, most people have moved on to something else by now. But seeing Pam in the break room just brings back all of it: her rejection, his heartbreak. The fact that she’d gotten back together with Roy after everything feels like a direct slap in the face. 

She catches his eye, and it’s too late to make a quick 180 and leave the break room (and this situation), so he walks over to the vending machine and stares at it intently, like he’s deciding on a college or a career, not an afternoon snack.

“I’m sorry I almost got you killed,” he hears her say behind him. 

He can tell she’s trying to be blasé about the whole thing, which is very Pam of her, but all he can feel is frustration and irritation. This isn’t a joke to him. Roy is dangerous, always has been dangerous, and he’s annoyed that his concern for her has always fallen on deaf ears. 

She continues trying to get him to talk to her, not taking his lack of engagement as a hint. He knows exactly what she’s doing. It’s not her fault, even; she must be so used to him being there for her that she expects it at this point. 

I’m sure you guys will find your way back to each other someday.

It’s a mean thing to say and he knows it. But he’s lashing out because he can’t help himself. He would be there for her in a heartbeat if she’d wanted him to, but he can’t do it anymore, not like this. Cleaning up Roy’s mess certainly cannot fall to him now. 

She apologizes again, but it’s not what he wants to hear. All he wants to do is leave, to avoid being put into a position to make her feel better about her own bad decisions. Someday, when the dust settles, perhaps they’ll laugh about all of this. Maybe they’ll even be real friends again. But right now, he’s still in survival mode, and he cannot fall back into his old patterns. 

After all, he wasn’t being entirely facetious with his callous comment. He isn’t convinced she’s done with Roy. So when she tells him it’s over, really over, how can he possibly believe her?

***

He’s been trying to decide whether or not to tell her the truth.

Some days he thinks “maybe today,” because she’ll sit a little closer to him in the conference room or smile a little more at one of his pranks. Some days he can convince himself that if he tells her, everything will turn out perfectly.

Most days, though, he’s a chicken shit.

He’s known for a long time the only reason he’s still working here is for her. He’s turned down opportunities, convinced himself he should stay because maybe one day things will change: he will tell her he loves her and she will tell him the same.

But it hasn’t happened. He isn’t sure what he’s been waiting for, exactly, but part of him has hoped she would be the one to change them from best friends into something more. That she would be the one to snap out of her own delusion that Roy could ever give her what she needs and open her eyes.

She hasn’t.

The clock is ticking and wedding invitations have been sent out and bands are being chosen. She’s not going to change her mind now. Deep down he knows this. But still, his secret is pressing against him from within, like a migraine from which he cannot find relief. He feels like his walk towards reception every single morning is a walk to his execution.

One moment of weakness, venting to Toby about Pam’s wedding planning, and everything feels even more real now. It’s painful just being around her anymore. He has to leave, once and for all. He has to go somewhere that’s… not here.

His interview with Jan goes well. He sits across from her in her office and says all the right things, does all the right things. He’s amazed at how easy it is, how if he’d just done this years ago, he wouldn’t be in the position he is now. He tries to imagine what a new life in Stamford would be like. Maybe it could be exciting. Maybe he could meet someone else, someone available.

Someone who isn’t Pam.

The idea of such a thing doesn’t make him feel better, though. It makes him feel worse.

After the interview, he heads back to Scranton to pick up some paperwork, pulling into the Dunder Mifflin parking lot at about 5:20. He hopes he’s timed it perfectly, that most everyone will have gone home by now (well, mainly that Pam will have gone home by now). He parks his car and starts to walk over to the front door but notices that the security guard isn’t in the lobby.

Odd, he thinks. Usually he’s there until 5:30, but must have locked up early. Jim sighs – just his luck – knowing he’ll have to come in before work tomorrow to finish the paperwork he was supposed to finish today, and heads back to his car. Just as he’s about to get in, however, he hears a familiar pair of voices.

Roy’s truck is idling around the corner, which he hadn’t noticed when he pulled in, but he now sees a familiar pink coat walking into his view. Pam looks agitated, and then Roy is behind her, grabbing her arm. They’re clearly arguing about something.

He doesn’t quite know which is worse: seeing Pam and Roy being affectionate with each other, or seeing Roy get rough with her. But either way, he doesn’t like what he sees at all.

He isn’t sure how long he watches them but at one point he sees Roy push past Pam brusquely. She doesn’t fall, and she isn’t hurt, but she looks shocked and upset at his behavior. Roy then gets into his truck and leaves. Just leaves Pam standing there, all alone in the Dunder Mifflin parking lot.

He’s never liked Roy. Ever. But for the first time, Jim wants to fucking kill him.

***

Roy’s never struck her. She doesn’t think he would, but there’s a tiny fear she carries with her, like those times she gets something stuck in her shoe and it stays there all day: a tiny part of her that wonders… maybe.

Maybe.

Occasionally there’s a moment, a split second where she thinks the worst might happen. Just as quickly, it passes. But she’s seen Roy get aggressive before. Maybe it’s just the brawny ex-football star in him, but he reacts without thinking, sometimes violently, and while she knows deep down he would never want to hurt her, she isn’t entirely convinced he’s incapable.

Jim only sees this kind of display from Roy once, as far as she knows. She’s arguing with Roy in the parking lot at the end of the day about money, of all things. They’re supposed to be saving for their honeymoon, not planning a trip to Atlantic City with Kenny. 

Roy doesn’t want to hear it. “Get out of my way,” he says, shoves her aside, and gets into his truck. 

She isn’t hurt or anything, it isn’t like he pushed her hard. But after the truck peels out of the parking lot she glances around immediately, self-consciously, to see who might have witnessed this. No cameras, thankfully. 

Only Jim is present, about twenty yards away, climbing out of his car. He seems to have just arrived at the office even though everyone has gone home for the day. He slams his car door shut and walks over to her, concern etched on his face. 

“Hey, what was that about?”

She’s embarrassed more than anything else. She doesn’t like feeling observed. She doesn’t like being put into a position where she has to defend Roy’s behavior.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

He clearly disagrees. “Are you okay?”

She sighs. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just stupid.”

He looks at her with genuine worry in his eyes. She may not be afraid, not really, but she can tell he is.

“I’m really okay, Jim.”

He nods, and while she can tell he doesn’t believe her, he backs off. 

“What are you doing back here, anyway?” she asks him. “I thought you had a doctor’s appointment.”

His hand goes to the back of his neck, so she immediately knows he’s making something up. “Oh, well, I left a couple of files at work I needed to finish. Figured I’d stop by on the way home rather than having to come in early.”

She glances at the front door. “Do you need me to let you up?”

He puts his hand up, waves her away. “No, it’s not a big deal. Do you need a ride home?” 

She does need a ride, actually. Roy’s abandoned her here. But…

“I don’t really want to go home right now.”

He nods. “Okay. Well, I’m not going to just leave you here alone in the parking lot, Pam.” He grins at her, and she feels warm inside. She looks down at her feet. Sometimes his smile has an effect on her she knows it shouldn’t.

“Sorry, you’re right. Um… well… let’s just go up and get your files first, okay?”

“You really don’t have to-”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” she says distractedly, already heading for the front door of the building. Every minute she can stall, each precious second she can stay here with her friend and not have to go home to face Roy and their stupid argument is worthwhile.

He follows her in silence as they walk upstairs and into the darkened bullpen. She flicks on the lights for him as he goes over to his desk, rifling around in his drawers for whatever papers he needs until he finds them. By the time they get downstairs again, only a few minutes have elapsed and she still doesn’t want to go home. But she really doesn’t have another choice.

“Hey, Pam,” Jim says as they exit the building, and he takes her by the elbow gently. It’s so different from the way Roy would take her arm and she can’t help but notice. 

She turns to face him. “Yeah?”

He has a funny look in his eyes, something unfamiliar. Things have been a little weird between them since he’d admitted he was the one who’d made a complaint about her planning her wedding at the office. They haven’t really even had a conversation since it happened. But she’s been trying really hard to figure it out, to figure him out. 

It’s no secret anymore that he used to have feelings for her. And ever since she learned of it, she’s viewed his actions a bit differently. Not because she thinks he still has those feelings, but because she likes to imagine he does. And sometimes, every so often, she can convince herself it’s true.

Yesterday was one of those moments. And try as she might, she can’t shake that.

“I just…” his mouth hangs open, like he wants to say something but can’t. “I know it isn’t my place or anything, but… I don’t think it’s okay for him to do that. Getting physical with you like that. Leaving you all alone here.”

She feels prickles on the back of her neck, unsure if it’s because he’s wrong or because he’s right. She’s exposed, and gets immediately defensive.

“It’s not like he does stuff like that all the time, Jim,” she says.

“I know, I know,” he says, and to his credit, he looks extremely nervous to be saying any of this. “I’m sure he doesn’t. I just… I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.”

She sighs and looks down at her white Keds. “You’re not the first one of my friends to say this to me, you know.” Jim flinches, and she’s not sure what part of the sentence did it. “But you really don’t have to worry. Roy can get a little heated, but he would never hurt me.”

Jim looks at her, that same strange expression on his face, but says nothing.

“I mean, we fight sometimes,” she continues. “It’s what couples do. But we always end up finding our way back to each other, you know?”

It’s his turn to look at his feet. “Yeah.”

She’s suddenly uncomfortable with this interaction. Jim’s opinion probably means more to her than anyone else’s, and she doesn’t like feeling judged by her best friend. But she also knows that he’s not around all the time, and doesn’t necessarily get to see a lot of the good stuff she and Roy have together.

It’s pretty clear to her now, however, why Jim doesn’t want to come to their wedding. Why he's complained to Toby, why he not-so-discreetly makes an exit from the room whenever she starts talking about wedding-related stuff. He doesn’t approve. Her sister Penny doesn’t like Roy either, and while Pam didn’t like the idea of her being in the wedding party under duress, she couldn’t not have her sister as a bridesmaid. They’d sort of made a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy when it came to her relationship with Roy.

It’s always been easy to talk to Jim about anything. Will there now be a Roy embargo on their conversations? Will her friendship with Jim have to change?

She already knows the answer to that one without having to think too hard, and it upsets her. She doesn't want things to have to change.

“I appreciate you worrying about me,” Pam then says, and before she really knows what she’s doing, she reaches out to take his hand. It’s big and warm and soft and it feels like home. Sometimes she forgets how much Jim means to her, how important he is to her. How lost she’d be if he wasn’t in her life. But it’s moments like these – when she feels so seen by him – that make her remember.

He shrugs, and chuckles in a strange, melancholy way. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

They stand there in front of the door for a few seconds. She doesn’t know for how long. But eventually Jim pulls his hand away and sticks it into his pocket. She looks around the empty parking lot, this patch of gray pavement that serves as a flimsy tether separating her two worlds: Roy’s twin tire tracks leading away from her and Jim, the person who often feels like a sort of refuge from everything else. It’s like she’s suspended between these two men in her life: Jim, someone she knows beyond a shred of doubt would never hurt her, and Roy, somewhat dangerous but still somehow the safer choice.

And yes, she thinks about this. She compares the two of them all the time, be it consciously or subconsciously. 

She’s always choosing. Always.

Jim’s eyes get soft. “Can I take you home now?”

She looks around the parking lot, knowing this moment was inevitable, but she still doesn’t want to go home. And she definitely doesn’t want Jim anywhere near that world. She wants him to remain here, where she feels completely safe; where they can stand quietly together without that thing stuck in her shoe.

She nods, but asks him to take her to Penny’s instead.

***

She sits alone in the break room, a place that used to be a sanctuary of theirs. Somewhere they could unload the events of the day, share a Coke or a laugh. So many simple things she’d taken for granted that she doesn’t have access to anymore. 

If she and Jim hadn’t been the starring players in last week’s debacle, typically they might have found a few minutes to debrief by now, to break down Dwight’s heroic rescue and figure out together just how exactly to convince him to accept a “thank you.” But she fears that, regardless of their roles in all the drama, the entire incident will become one more thing they never discuss. Just something forgotten, swept under the rug. 

Like everything else between them.

If this all isn’t bad enough, not one person has come up to her to ask if she’s okay, or bothered to see how she’s feeling about everything. Sure, Phyllis had asked, but only because of the gossip potential, and Angela was only interested in the Dwight-specific portions. She’s used to being ignored in this place, but with Jim avoiding her she may as well not even exist.

An opportunity to talk to him finally presents itself when he walks into the break room in the afternoon. He doesn't really glance her way, and she doesn’t know what else to say other than to apologize. 

“Sorry I almost got you killed.” 

He doesn’t look at her, instead focusing on the vending machine, trying to decide what he wants. She wonders what’s running through his mind right now, because Jim always seems to know what he wants. 

“Yeah, that was nuts.”

“He could have broken your nose or something. Crazy.” 

He gives her nothing. She’s so desperate to feel a connection to him, any connection at all, she pushes further. 

“It's just so stupid. I mean, getting back with Roy and everything. I mean, what was I thinking, right?” She knows that’s exactly what he’s thinking, because she’s all too familiar with the way he feels about Roy.

Say I was stupid. Say “I told you so.” Please, Jim, just say anything.

But Jim, the old Jim that held her hand in the parking lot and worried about her is not here today. He won’t even look at her. 

“No, I mean, you guys really seem to have a strong connection.” 

Strong connection. She never had the connection with Roy she’d had with Jim. She wishes she’d had the courage to tell him so years ago. 

He’s clearly still disgusted that she could ever have chosen Roy over him and she doesn’t even blame him. She’s disgusted with herself. But even if he is, it doesn’t mean he still has feelings for her. How could he have feelings for someone who makes such terrible choices? 

“Not anymore. It's, um... it's completely over now.”

I messed up, Jim. I messed up again. Please forgive me.

“We'll see,” he says, with a horrible scoff that makes her belly curdle. He looks her right in the eye. “I'm sure you guys will find your way back to one another someday.” 

It’s such an awful thing for him to say, especially considering the circumstances. It’s not his fault she chose to go back to Roy, to place herself into a situation he’d certainly tried to warn her about. But she’s already down. Why is he kicking her like this?

“Jim,” she says, as earnestly as she can, as honestly as she can. He finally looks at her and she knows she should tell him the truth right here, right now. The whole truth.

I’m sorry I broke your heart.

I’m sorry for telling you no when I meant yes.

Mostly, I’m sorry you aren’t the same Jim anymore and it’s all my fault.

These are the things she wants to say, but she’s petrified.

“I am really... sorry,” is all she can get out.

“Oh, yeah. Don't worry about it.” He turns to go with barely another glance and she’s left alone again.

It’s not the cruelty that hurts. It’s indifference, disguised as cruelty. And it’s not something she ever expected Jim — any version of him — to be capable of.

After the day is over and she leaves the office, she gets into her car and shuts the door. Tiny droplets of rain patter against her windows, meager but persistent. She’s never felt so isolated in her entire life. She can’t even make herself turn the ignition before she breaks down, her head on the steering wheel. 

She's done with Roy. Jim is obviously done with her. There’s no one here who even cares. 

She has nothing.

She doesn’t know how long she sits alone in her misery, but eventually a tap on the window makes her look up to see the very last face she expects.

Jim has no umbrella, and his hair is getting wet, raindrops on his face that echo the tears she watched slide down his cheeks once. She can tell he’s concerned even through the raindrops on the glass, and he gestures for her to roll down the window. But she cannot move. She can only look up at him, absolutely drained, devastation in her eyes so palpable she can feel it. 

For a moment she genuinely believes he might just turn around and leave her alone. He has no obligation to her after everything that happened. The fact that they work at the same place again doesn’t automatically make them friends. If he were to walk away right now he would be absolutely justified in doing so.

But he doesn’t walk away. He goes around her car and gets into the passenger seat, closing the door behind him. 

The gentle sounds of raindrops tapping against her windshield are the only thing breaking up the deathly silence inside the car. She expects his nearness to make her feel uncomfortable, but despite their awkward interaction earlier in the break room she can still feel that same energy between them she always does, that current, like radiation: inescapable and just as dangerous.

They sit and say nothing for what feels like an eternity, a quiet rumble of thunder in the distance threatening to turn this sprinkle into real rain again at any moment. She doesn’t know how long he plans to sit in the car with her. Even though it’s the last thing she wants to do, she’s promised Roy she’d meet him to talk.

“I’m sorry about before,” Jim finally says. “I didn’t mean it.”

She can’t bring herself to look at him. “Yes, you did.” 

She isn’t interested in playing games anymore. They aren’t fun games, like they used to be. They just hurt. 

He nods. “You’re right, I guess I did. But I’m taking it back.”

She turns and tries to search his face, at least what she can see in his profile. Why is he inside her car? What is he even doing here?

“Why?”

He sighs. “Kelly told me what happened the other night at Poor Richard’s. What Roy did. I had no idea.”

Pam looks back at the steering wheel, feeling his eyes on her, like he’s judging her again. She nervously pulls her skirt over her knees a bit, resting her hands in her lap. 

“I’m really sorry about what I said, Pam. I was upset. But mostly because he might have really hurt someone. Karen, or you, or even Dwight. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. It was an asshole move and I don’t know why I said it.”

She doesn’t know what to say anymore, so she says nothing. 

“I just… don’t understand, I guess,” he continues.

She turns to look over at him. “Understand?”

“What you see in that guy,” he says, and their eyes meet for the first time since the break room. “I don’t get it. I never have. And I guess that’s why I reacted the way I did.”

She wants to tell him she knows he’s right. That she sees everything clearly now, more clearly than ever before. She should never have been with Roy, especially when there was another option standing before her, offering himself up to her in the eleventh hour. An escape hatch she should have taken- not just for the escape, but for the promise of better, of feeling love from someone in a way she didn’t realize she deserved.

But she can’t tell him this now. Nothing feels right anymore; more specifically, he doesn’t feel right. He isn’t the same. He’s sitting in her car with his sleeves rolled down, trying to make her feel better, trying to act like the old Jim, but he isn't. And she has no idea if this new Jim would even hear her if she tried.

“Well, you know what they say about the definition of insanity,” she says instead, cracking a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe I’m just crazy.”

Thankfully, he smiles at her in return. But then he turns to face forward, saying nothing.

“I am really sorry about all of this,” she says.

“Don’t be,” he says, very quietly. “I probably had it coming anyway.”

It’s the first and only time either of them have alluded to what happened between them all those months ago. She wants to take advantage of it but has no idea what to say, and even if she did, her body freezes in terror. He looks over at her, his eyes blazing, and the tension hangs between them like a thick and poisonous gas, something she knows neither of them will touch. She eyes him briefly, but it's too much to handle and she looks away again, knowing they’ve officially reached the point in the conversation where this topic will go no further. Each time they don’t seize upon the opportunity to discuss what happened, she feels that sting of failure; that looming probability that their relationship (or whatever’s left of it) will simply decay. Jim and Pam and their very short remaining half-life. 

She stares out the windshield at the wall of their building, and feels her lower lip start to tremble. She can tell she’s about to start crying again and she doesn’t want to cry in front of Jim. She doesn’t even know for sure exactly what she’s crying about anymore. It could be a million things, it could be just the one thing.

It’s probably just the one thing.

They sit with the weighty silence for what feels like forever, Pam holding back her tears, until Jim suddenly – and very unexpectedly – reaches out to take her hand. He holds it tightly across the console, as if trying to communicate something he’s either unwilling or unable to articulate. He doesn't turn to face her, he just sits and holds her hand, and they don’t look at each other. But neither of them pull away.

And then, at last, he speaks, more quietly than she’s ever heard him before. 

“Everything’s going to be okay, Pam.” 

He still will not look at her, instead staring straight out the windshield. But suddenly the strangest thing happens: she can feel her body start to relax. Her mind clears, and from his fingers she feels a phantom energy leaving his body, going directly into hers as if through osmosis. It’s healing, as if his proximity alone has the power to keep her alive. 

Everything’s going to be okay.

Tears well in her eyes again, but for the first time in a long time, it’s not because Jim is dating someone else, or because she’s missed her chance with him. It’s because she misses him — this — so much. She can barely remember what it felt like to have someone in her life who cared about her the way he did. The way he always has.

She wants this feeling to last forever but she knows it can’t. And with a barely perceptible rub of his thumb across her own, he finally releases her hand, opens the car door, and closes it without another glance in her direction.