I called off my wedding because of you.

The sound of Pam’s voice echoes in his eardrums, louder and louder until it’s absolutely deafening. 

I shouldn't have been with Roy. 

There were a lot of reasons to call off my wedding. 

But the truth is, I didn't care about any of those reasons until I met you.

He can’t keep all her words straight in his mind and they bounce around like a bunch of misfiring mousetraps, one after the other. Snap, snap, snap: a steady, cacophonous crescendo.

He doesn’t have to turn his head to feel the heat from Karen’s glare, even more intense than those of the tiki torches surrounding them. As if that isn’t enough, a dozen pairs of eyes then shift from Pam’s departing figure over to him, clearly waiting for him to say something. 

He has no idea what to say. 

Now we’re not even friends, and things are just… weird between us, and that sucks. 

And I miss you.

Karen gets up and walks away from the circle without a word, heading towards the bus. The rest of the group is silent. All Jim can hear are the crackling flames of the bonfire, which is making his entire body feel hot. Or maybe it was just Pam’s speech.

I miss you.

“I was late, but I went to her art show,” Michael eventually says, breaking the tense silence. “What did she mean? Did none of you guys show up?”

Everyone looks at each other sheepishly.

“I was there,” Oscar interjects. “Anyway, I don’t think it really matters. She’s obviously only upset about Jim.”

After a brief murmur of subdued agreement, everyone’s eyes turn back to Jim.

“Jim? You didn’t go to Pam’s art show?” Michael says accusingly.

Pam’s art show is the last thing on his mind after everything else she’d said. Michael, however, looks so personally offended at the mere suggestion Jim wouldn’t have been there that he lets the weight of his absence sink in: how low Pam must have felt that night, how bummed that no one was there to support her. 

What it must mean for their friendship that he wasn’t there to support her.

You were my best friend before you went to Stamford, and I really miss you.

He doesn’t know how to respond to Michael. He’d considered going, briefly, but the thought of seeing her there with Roy was enough to dissuade him. The avoidance tactics he’d been employing were actually working and he had no desire to jinx that. He hadn’t been thinking about her constantly. He was making actual progress. In the end he decided staying away was probably best for everyone.

Now, a very real stab of guilt comes over him for his failure to be a good friend to Pam at a time when she really needed one. But his thoughts then shift back to his primary concern at the moment: Karen, who very clearly needs him right now, and he can actually do something about that. He gets up and leaves the group in search of his girlfriend, taking a deep breath, readying himself to attempt to put out this latest blaze.

He finds her behind the bus, sort of pacing with her head in her hands. She looks completely stressed out, and he feels terrible that she’s in this situation at all. He isn’t sure how much more of this she can take, and he can relate. The hits in their relationship appear to just keep on coming.

“So, what now?” she asks, when she can finally look him in the eye.

“What do you mean?” 

“What do I mean? The girl you have feelings for just told the entire office she has feelings for you, too.”

Jim blinks. That’s not exactly what he heard. Maybe he’s been so conditioned to overanalyze everything, maybe he’s just so used to being rejected by Pam that he isn’t entirely certain what to make of her little speech.

He thinks about what he’d said to Pam a year ago; how he’d bared his soul and she’d absolutely destroyed him. And he thinks about what Pam had said tonight, with everyone they know in watchful attendance:

I  miss having fun with you.

He’s missed having fun with Pam too, but it’s been a long time since he can honestly say it’s happened. Maybe he’s finally past all of that. Maybe it’s not who he is anymore.

He feels as if he’s been running a marathon for a year straight. He’s fucking exhausted. And he’s near enough to the finish line that he really thinks he might actually make it. He’s been trying so hard, he’s been working so hard, and if he stops now, it could all be for nothing.

I called off my wedding because of you.  

Indeed, what he’d hoped was true for so long was, in fact, true. Pam had ended things with Roy because of what Jim said, because of what he’d done. It wasn’t all in his head, at least not entirely. 

But even if Karen is right, even if Pam is interested in more, at this point… is it enough? It wasn’t enough for her to tell him so back in May. It wasn’t enough to make one phone call — just one — telling him she was available, that she had feelings for him too. And none of it was enough to change the course of events that has led him right here, right now, looking into the weary eyes of his girlfriend, someone he truly cares about.

He stares at Karen, still saying nothing.

“I knew something like this would happen,” she suddenly says. “I knew it. If we stayed here…” she trails off, then closes her mouth.

“You knew what?”

She doesn’t answer his question. “When Michael mentioned that opening at corporate, what was your first thought?”

He shakes his head, unsure of what she’s getting at. “That… there’s no way he’s getting that promotion. Unless there’s a new executive mandate for Movie Mondays.”

“I’m serious, Jim. Did it even occur to you to want that job before I suggested we apply?”

Did it? He can barely remember. Pam’s words are taking up so much of his bandwidth, it’s as if one side of his brain is still processing them while the other side tries to reassure Karen. He remembers Karen taking his hand, walking him around the lake until they could find cell service. He remembers her asking him what he thought about New York, he remembers saying he thought it was okay. She did suggest they both go for that job, and while he’d initially thought competing against his girlfriend for a promotion was a little weird, she’d convinced him it was a good idea. Something about increasing their chances.

“I mean… sure. It’s a great opportunity.”

“But it’s not in Scranton,” she says. “What happens if you get it?”

“I don’t know, I guess I just figured I’ll cross that bridge if I come to it.”

She crosses her arms and leans against the bus, sighing heavily. She looks so small against it, so out of place here. Karen doesn’t belong in Scranton and he’s known that since she arrived. Leaving has probably always been her endgame, and this interview at corporate is nothing more to her than a ticket out, for both of them. 

But maybe she’s right to feel that way. Maybe coming back here has always been the only obstacle in their way. He can’t deny the probability that if he’d never come back at all, he and Karen would be somewhere different. Physically, mentally, emotionally.

And then he realizes something profound: the problem isn’t that he’d come back to Scranton. The problem is that he never really has. Because doing so would have only reminded him of the reason he’d remained in Scranton for so long in the first place. 

This entire time he’s been positioned between these two worlds: wedged firmly between his past and his future. Pam and Karen. And as long as he’s stuck somewhere in the middle, he will never be able to budge in either direction.

Maybe that’s been the answer to getting over Pam all along: getting out of here. This job. This job could be the solution to all of his problems. 

“Karen,” he says, approaching her with purpose and grabbing her gently by the shoulder. “I’m with you. I want to be with you.” The more he says it out loud the more he believes it.

“Then what are you going to do about this, Jim? About her? Pretend that little speech never happened?”

“I’ll go talk to her,” he says, even though he has no idea what to say. “Okay?”

Karen looks up at him, and he just wants to stop seeing that look on her face: the one of concern, of fear. Of mistrust. He really wants to stop seeing that look, and he knows he’s the only person who can make it go away.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he says to Karen, and feels a sharp twinge in his heart.

She looks at him in a desperate sort of way. “Do you really mean that?” 

He wants to mean it, he really does. He thinks of Pam once again, and the words he’s still trying to make sense of.

And now you're with someone else. And that's... fine. It's... whatever. 

Whatever.

“Yes,” he says to her. He nods, and heads off to find Pam. 

He means it. He has to mean it. 

***

He’s waiting, again.

After his teapot plan had gone awry, he’d backslid quite a bit in regards to his courage. If he thought she’d been ready to hear him pour his heart out to her, he was wrong. But he knows there will come a time in their future when he will have to summon up his courage once again, whether she’s ready for it or not.

Roy is below decks doing snorkel shots with Darryl, and Pam is up here alone with Jim. His best friend. Everything always feels so good when it’s just the two of them. 

“Sometimes I just don’t get Roy,” she says, rather abruptly. 

Jim doesn’t consider himself the white knight type, gallantly riding in to sweep the girl off her feet, saving her from the evil ogre (in the warehouse jumpsuit). With Pam, he’s always considered himself more of a sidekick, a partner in crime, a ride or die. 

But he does want to save her. He wants to find a way to make her see that she’s in need of saving right now.

“I mean, I don’t know,” she continues. She’s looking up at him like she wants him to present a counter-argument, to lay out his case. But is she asking him as her best friend? Or is this the moment he’s been waiting for, the moment she gives him permission to be honest?

He’s been waiting for the right moment to tell her how he feels, has rehearsed it in his mind over and over, the perfect words to say to her: 

I can love you more than he does. 

I can love you better than he does.

I can promise that I already do. 

They stand together in silence, suspended in time. He isn’t sure how long they do, staring at each other like this, but he feels a strong compulsion come over him, like a voice carried by the icy breeze is whispering “stay.” If only he could exist in this moment with her forever, free of any constraints or expectations, free of his fear and confusion. Just stay exactly like this, in their cozy bubble, without saying a word.

But he can’t, and he knows he can’t. The wind whips in his ears and blows her hair around her face and the lake is on every side of them, an endless expanse of promise, of freedom. 

All he has to do is jump.

“So, what’s it like dating a cheerleader?” she asks him, that mischievous glint in her eye he’s so fond of. It always feels like she’s flirting with him but it’s also always impossible to know if that’s the case.

She’s given him three openings and he’s said nothing. He knows he should tell her now, he knows it. But when he opens his mouth and looks her in the eyes his mind goes completely blank. He forgets everything he’d carefully rehearsed. 

His eyes drift down to her lips, and he considers just going for it. Maybe he doesn’t need any words at all; maybe he just kisses her, lets his actions do the talking. But he’s imagined this moment for so long, the idea of actually going through with it is too much to take. He’s flooded with terror and his body succumbs. 

Pam notices this change, and he can see it happen: there’s a brief moment, ever so brief, when the glint leaves her eyes and is replaced with something else he can’t quite recognize.

No- he does recognize it. It’s disappointment. And he will toil over exactly what she’d been disappointed about for months.

“I’m cold,” she says, and the moment passes. She walks away and he’s left alone, staring out at the lake. 

For the next few minutes he stews in his own disappointment, his own frustration: he blew it. He’s been waiting for this very moment for years and he’d absolutely choked, even though it was presented to him on a silver platter, even though the universe was all but saying “Here, Jim Halpert, this is your chance. Ready when you are.”

His mind is in overdrive for the next several minutes, wondering whether or not he can salvage this missed opportunity, if he can still communicate to Pam the truth. But the universe seems to still be speaking to him: Of course you can. Tonight is your night. 

He sets off from the bar with purpose, leaving Michael and Roy and everyone else who doesn’t matter behind, beginning to weave his way back across the boat through the bustling crowds of drunk passengers.

“I would save the receptionist,” he shrugs to Delilah. She knows he would anyway. And so will Pam, in just another few seconds. 

With every step closer to her, he’s more and more grateful to the universe for guiding him, for showing him that he doesn’t have to wait anymore. He’s so grateful that he’s completely unprepared for said universe to pull the rug out from under him.

June 10th.

Fuck you, universe.

He can visualize this entire situation as a bomb, like in an action movie, with a timer ticking down to his destruction. He’s so mad at everything right now that nothing else seems to matter. He hurts Katy, though he doesn’t mean to. And he confides in Michael, the world’s worst confidant. He isn’t sure why he does either of those things. Maybe he’s just tired of waiting. Maybe he just wants to blow everything up.

But then Michael says something he does not expect:

Never, ever, ever give up.

It’s just a spark, a tiny flicker of hope that even the chilly Lake Wallenpaupack air is unable to extinguish. But it’s enough. If he wants to defuse this bomb, he still might be able to. He’s just going to have to wait a little longer, for another perfect moment to present itself. 

Sometimes he thinks he’ll be waiting for Pam his whole life. 

Sometimes he’s okay with that.

***

There are moments she can remember when she knew she and Jim were meant for each other. 

It wasn’t a single bolt of lightning, like they say; some grand moment of revelation. It wasn’t even a light switch flicking on somewhere in her brain. Rather, these moments were more like tiny fireflies circling her head, ever present: difficult to catch, but their brilliance even more difficult to ignore.

There were small moments, like when he’d save her a seat in the conference room, and when she’d notice the little dimple on his left cheek whenever she’d make him smile. Or bigger moments, like that night she realized he’d somehow gotten Michael to change her Dundie award from something painful and embarrassing into something… not. 

There were even bigger moments, like when he gave her that teapot filled with treasures she tried to shrug off as simply a friendly gesture. And that night on the booze cruise, when she’d gazed into his eyes and secretly hoped he might tell her what she’d suspected for years. 

Or perhaps the biggest moment of all: when that tear fell from his eye after she lied to his face and watched him walk away from her. 

I’m sorry if you misinterpreted things.

She thinks of that tear as she runs across the blazing hot coals, but it’s not an act of self-flagellation. 

It’s an act of self-determination.

***

The adrenaline is beginning to wear off as she stands at the edge of the lake, cool water lapping around her ankles. She’s okay for right now, but knows that tomorrow the pain will arrive, and it will be intense.

She tries to predict what Jim will say. She has no earthly idea. But she isn’t sure if he will even approach her tonight. He has a girlfriend, after all, and Pam had basically just lobbed a grenade at the both of them and walked away. 

It really did feel good to do it, though. It wasn’t just Jim, either; the entire office had borne witness to the final phase of the metamorphosis she’s been going through ever since he kissed her and left, waking her up from a years-long hibernation.

Honesty and courage. 

Tonight, she’s finally done it. She’s faced her fear and told him the truth, and even if it’s all over between them, it won’t stop the triumphant smile creeping across her face; the thrilling agony coursing through her raw, burned feet.

The lake is quiet except for the occasional splash of a duck diving in the reeds, and she closes her eyes, breathing victory into her lungs. After a few minutes of solitude, she hears Jim’s familiar footsteps behind her. She doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s him.

“How are your feet?” he asks.

The sound of his voice is more welcome than it’s ever been. It doesn’t really matter what he says; he’s here. She’s no longer invisible to him. 

“Medium rare. Thanks.”

She tosses him a smile over her shoulder, hoping to keep things light, make him comfortable. The last thing she wants is to let everything get awkward all over again. 

To her great relief, he grins back. “At least it wasn’t a Foreman grill.”

“I think you can give me a little more credit than that.” 

He chuckles a bit. “I’m very impressed,” he then says, gesturing behind them to the extinguished bed of coals. “I didn’t think anyone but Dwight had the balls.”

“It’s the new me, I guess.”

He nods, putting his hands into his pockets. “Yeah,” he says, sounding far away. 

She wants to move past the small talk. She’s riding a high and hopes that they can actually have a meaningful conversation, the one they should have had in her car weeks ago. She’s desperate to say more now that they’re alone, but she doesn’t really know how to begin. 

“Hey, I’m really sorry that I didn’t come to your art show,” he says. To his credit, he really does look sorry. 

“Okay. Is that all you heard? Because I said some other stuff.”

“Really?” He shrugs in that cute mock-confused way of his. “I don’t...”

She gives him an easy smile, and they both laugh to themselves.

“You know what’s interesting? I don’t feel embarrassed at all. I just feel good.” She’s actually feeling better by the second. It’s almost as if with every truth she reveals to him, each one gets progressively easier. 

He continues to appear impressed, and maybe even a little relieved. “Good.”

It’s quiet again, and she watches him, wondering what he’s thinking. 

“If you don’t have anything to say, you don’t have to say anything,” she says, at first wanting to let him off the hook. Maybe he didn’t come down here to have a conversation after all. Maybe he’s just feeling duty-bound to maintain his boundaries, like he did after the branches merged. To keep her secure inside their painfully unresolved status quo. But then she decides that’s not what’s going to happen, not on her watch. 

“Or, no- I take that back,” she says, somewhat defiantly. “You have to say something.” 

She doesn’t want to leave anything off the table. She was brave tonight. At the very least, she deserves something from him in return. 

The jubilant voice of Michael — very suddenly and inconveniently — cuts across their quiet moment from twenty yards away. 

“Hey! You guys, I’m doing it! I’m walking on boiling steam!” he shouts, wobbling across the extinguished coals, extremely proud of his efforts. 

Pam can’t help but laugh. “How can you even think about leaving that?” she asks, pointing to their boss. Jim grins back, and every time they laugh together like they used to it’s another shot of adrenaline pumping through her veins.

“So… you heard,” he says. “About the job.”

“I overheard you guys on the phone earlier down by the lake.”

He raises an eyebrow. “That’s pretty nosy of you, Beesly.”

“It wasn’t on purpose. Michael asked me to fill little bottles with lake water as mementos for everyone.”

“Well, that I believe,” he grins. 

She shakes her head. “It’s weird that you’re leaving again.”

“I haven’t gotten the job yet.” 

“I know you’re going to get it.”

He’s surprised. “And how do you know that?”

“I’ve sat in on enough Michael meetings to know that David Wallace is crazy about you,” she says with a shrug.

He grins and lets out a tiny scoff. “Crazy about me, as in… he’s going to confess his love after years of unrequited pining?” 

She smiles and looks down a bit bashfully, lifting her foot out of the water to slowly drag it along the surface in a lazy figure eight. 

“It wasn’t unrequited, Jim,” she says, very quietly.

It feels so good to finally say it, to admit it out loud. She dares a glance at him and he looks stunned at this admission. She wants to roll her eyes but she knows it’s her own damn fault he never believed it. 

It feels like minutes pass, but it must be only seconds when he speaks again.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asks, so softly she can barely hear him. “After you broke off the wedding?” 

She doesn’t really know why. Other than: “I guess… I just wasn’t as brave as you were.”

His eyes look glassy and confused, and she can hardly blame him. She’s still disappointed in herself, in her failure to act. But fear and self-doubt had taken such a firm hold on her over the years, it wasn’t easy to shake. It still isn’t easy to shake.

“My mom said something to me the other day,” Pam says. “She said that sometimes we get so used to what we have that we forget about what we want.” She eyes him meaningfully. “It’s the closest I’ve been able to come to explaining why I did what I did.”

There’s a flutter in the bushes, and Jim glances over his shoulder, presumably to make sure no one is coming to interrupt them. She wonders what he’d told Karen he was going to talk to her about. 

“I don’t mean to mess anything up for you, I swear,” she says. “I didn’t plan any of this. I just… had to tell you the truth. Especially now that you’re probably leaving again.” 

The noise stops, and Jim turns back, looking her right in the eyes. 

“I’ve missed you too,” he says. “More than you probably realize. And I’m sorry things haven’t really… been the same.”

She nods. “You don’t have to be sorry. I get it. It’s taken me awhile, but I understand now. Why we can’t be what we were before.”

He looks at her sadly. “And why is that?”

She sighs. “Because…” she turns to look out at the water, unable to meet his gaze. “You aren’t the same you anymore, Jim. And I am not the same me. And… we can’t be the us we used to be, because so much has changed.”

She’s never acknowledged to Jim’s face the idea that the two of them were ever an us. But they always have been, whether she’d admit it or not.

“You seem really happy with Karen,” she continues honestly, then looks down at her feet. It’s hard to say her name anymore. “I was watching you guys today. You seemed to be having so much fun together. And it just got me thinking… that it could have been us, you know? That it would have been you and me goofing around on the beach, if nothing had changed. Even if I were still engaged to Roy, you would have been there for me. You were always there. I guess I sort of always counted on that.”

He still says nothing. She turns to look up at him again. 

“And then I thought about how awful that must have been for you, and how awful it was for me to expect that. To take advantage of that, even though I didn’t know I was doing it. Because you deserve to be with someone who knows exactly what they have when they have you.”

He’s quiet, absorbing her words. She’s already said so much that she waits, hoping for him to speak again. But he doesn’t. 

“You were the one who taught me that,” she continues. “What you said to me, Jim… it made me realize I deserve something better. That I didn’t have to settle for second best. Because of you, for the first time I’ve really gotten to experience what actually believing that feels like.”

He still says nothing, just looks at her in what she can only assume is amazement that she’s saying any of this at all.

“I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel the way I do right now, Jim. Because it hurts watching you have that with someone else. When it could have been me… when it should have been me. And I just wasn’t strong enough to have it.”

She desperately wants to know what he’s thinking, to know once and for all where they really stand. So she stops talking and waits, until eventually he speaks.

“It was my own fault, Pam. Springing that on you the way I did. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”

She laughs quietly. “Our timing has never been the best.” 

“No, it hasn’t.”

She grins up at him, but he isn’t smiling. 

They look at each other for a long while, both thinking about that night again; years of unspoken emotion passing silently between them. She feels naked and exposed, but he is too. Ironically, she’s never felt closer to him in their entire friendship, so honest. That part feels good, even though it will probably only be for right now. Even though she fears this will all end in heartbreak again, no matter what she says or does. 

She wants to tell him this. She doesn’t quite know how. But something compels her to keep talking. It’s as if the pain in her feet is a perpetual reminder: Be brave. Say what you have to say, because you may never get another chance.

“Michael told me you left Scranton because of me,” she blurts out. “I’m so sorry, Jim. I feel like I let you down. If I’d known you were leaving…”

He looks hurt by this, and begins shaking his head. “No, Pam. It wasn’t your fault I left. I don’t want you to think that you did something wrong, or that I was mad at you, or anything like that. That wasn’t the reason.” He takes a deep breath, and in his eyes she finally sees something she hasn’t seen since that casino night: stripped down honesty. And this time she’s prepared to hear whatever he has to say. “The real reason I went to Stamford was because I wanted to be… not here.”

She nods sadly. “I know.”

“And even though I came back,” he looks like he’s really considering what he’s saying for the first time, “I just feel like I’ve never really... come back.”

She understands him perfectly. He doesn’t have to spell it out for her, she’d already implied as much: that he’d left Scranton as one Jim and come back another one. But she wants that old Jim back, the one who smiled at her, laughed with her, joked around with her. The one who was her best friend. 

The one who was in love with her. 

She doesn’t know if that Jim exists anymore, or if he could still feel that way even if he did. But she can only be honest with him now.  

“Well, I wish you would.”

His eyes search her face, and it’s clear that he wasn’t prepared for any of this. The water splashes against her scalded feet as she feels the gentle breeze all around them and Jim is here, finally facing her, finally listening. Finally seeing her again. She waits, and he stares at her, and all she can think about is how they are here all over again: in the very same place, only this time their roles are reversed. She’s the one who’s gone all in. She’s the one who’s laid all her cards on the table. 

“I’m not sure if that old Jim will ever come back,” she continues sadly. He looks at her intently. “Right now that feels impossible. But I can say this much: if he could come back, and was standing here right now…” 

Courage and honesty.

It’s her final round to play. No more bluffing. She takes a deep breath and pushes the last of her chips in. 

“...I wouldn’t wait another minute before asking him out on a date.”

Her revelation stuns him silent. He still says nothing, just stares at her with his mouth slightly open, processing everything. 

The Jim she used to know would probably smile, relief washing over his face, taking her into his arms and forgetting everything else. But that Jim only exists in her fantasy now, only in her memory: the Jim who pulled away from their kiss with his eyes closed in blissful contentment.

There are so many long, painful months between that Jim and the one who stands before her right now, looking completely shell shocked. Suddenly, everything he had done that night shifts painfully into focus: his compulsion to be honest, his desire to make sure things were not left unsaid. And in this moment, looking into his eyes, she now knows exactly how it felt for him, hoping beyond hope for a miracle while fully expecting crushing disappointment.

She knows he doesn’t want to hurt her like she hurt him, that’s the last thing he wants to do. But she sees the same hesitation in his eyes she’d given him all those months ago. She’s absolutely prepared for it to happen anyway.

“I know it’s too late,” she says, sparing him the discomfort of having to reject her. “I know it is. If… that’s really not who you are anymore. And I can accept that, Jim. I can.” Her eyes begin welling up with tears, her vision blurs. “I won’t run away. I won’t treat you badly. I’ll still want to be your friend. Your best friend, if you’ll let me. And I promise you that I will be okay.”

She hadn’t planned to say this much but the words are coming out of her mouth nonetheless. She can feel an insistent tug on her heart, silently screaming at her to just tell him she loves him, that she’s always loved him and no matter what happens tonight she knows she will forever. But he’s looking at her in such a helplessly sad way that in an instant she finally knows the real reason she’s doing this, despite all of her hopes, despite the pain she’s been going through for such a long time. 

She isn’t trying to make him love her again. That’s not what tonight is about. It isn’t about stealing him away from Karen. It isn’t about winning. It’s about her, finally being brave and honest and open. Standing up for herself. Saying all of the things she’d wanted to say to him months ago, but was too afraid. And in the midst of everything she’s thinking, everything she’s feeling, somewhere between her wounded heart and her scorched feet and the confusion and indecision that’s been controlling her life for months, she finally knows for certain she’s doing the right thing. 

She’s letting him go.

Jim’s confusion is palpable and his eyes betray a melancholy he cannot hide. “What are you saying?” he asks.

She looks up at him: Jim, her best friend. The person who was always there for her, who always made her smile, made her laugh. Made every single day worthwhile. The person who had loved her unconditionally, even when she’d been attached to the biggest possible condition.

She loves him. Letting him go is going to hurt like hell. But for the first time in a very long time, she’s confident that she’s going to be fine on her own. 

“I’m saying... that I just want you to be happy, Jim.” 

His expression, as it has been all night -- all year, really -- is inscrutable. She tries to decipher it, but it’s been a long time since she’s really had the opportunity and she’s out of practice.

“I am happy,” he says, his voice trembling. “Are you?”

She nods, and there’s a tear in his eye now, too, flickering just like it did last time. She knows that despite what he says, he’s probably sad; they both are. They’ve missed so many opportunities over the years she can’t help but feel the sting of disappointment that will probably continue for a very long time. But knowing there are no more secrets between them anymore dulls the ache, if only just a bit.

“Thank you,” she then says, because she suspects that if she doesn’t end this conversation soon she might completely break down in front of him.

“For what?”

“For talking to me. For being my friend. I know you probably think I was just blowing you off but I meant what I said about how much your friendship means to me.” There’s a sharp pain in her stomach, now primarily because if he does get that promotion, if he does move to New York, she’s going to miss him all over again. “You’ve been so important to me all these years, Jim. I can’t even begin to explain it.”

“You don’t have to explain it, Pam,” he says quietly. “You mean the same to me.”

An understanding passes between them, and for just a moment she sees that old Jim standing in front of her, the one she’s in love with. The one she may always be in love with, regardless of where he ends up, regardless of how fine she tells herself she is. This feels like a real goodbye, but even though she can feel her heart breaking into a million pieces, his words are weirdly cathartic. 

She believes him. And that’s not just something. It’s everything. 

There’s a funny look on his face again, the same one she keeps seeing all night. She wants to ask him about it but she’s already overexerted herself. She’s tired, and everyone is waiting, and Karen is surely waiting, and she just wants to go home.

Pam discreetly wipes her eyes and flashes him the same smile she always does, however, the smile she’s always reserved just for him, whether she was aware of it or not. She smiles to hide the way she’s falling apart.

“So,” she says. 

“So.”

She wraps her arms around her front protectively, only now realizing how cold it’s actually gotten. Her feet don’t hurt anymore either, they’re just numb. 

“Friends?” she asks him.

He looks at her thoughtfully for a few seconds longer than she expects, but ultimately nods. 

“Always.” 

He moves to hug her, and she wraps her arms around him – her best friend – an embrace that could very well be their last. But this time around, they will not end in tears. This time around, they will part as friends.

This time around, it’s her turn to know when to walk away.

Looking behind them, she sees the abandoned bed of coals as it smolders. Her heart is aching just as her feet do, but it will all heal with time. And as they walk together up the embankment back towards the bus, she feels it: the tiny snap as she breaks loose from her chrysalis at last and spreads her wings, ascending into the sky.