She's starting to hate herself. She's starting to feel like it's a downward spiral. A downward spiral of doom. And she can't and won't and shouldn't do that to herself. Because she's still a person and still deserves happiness despite whatever mistakes she's made. Because everyone does. Even Michael, even Dwight and even Angela. Because everyone deserves as many chances as they can to make a life for themselves, a happy life.  

She reaches the point to tell self-preservation to fuck off on February 28.

She avoided, pretended, hurt, and fantasized her way through Christmas and New Years, January and Valentines Day. Why in God's name were all the 'romantic' and 'happy' holidays during the winter when everything is so dreary? She was sick of being dreary. She was sick of living in static. And she was sick of living her life in self-defense mode. Because living in fear of emotions and repercussions doesn't take you very far.  

It's February 28 and she remembers.

She remembers that towards the end of every February she always asks Jim if it's finally a leap year again. She knows it's usually not, but she's always been amused that they just add another day onto the end of February. And they both always felt a little bad for people who were born on February 29.  

One year she and Jim tried to convince Dwight that the people born on leap years really only celebrated their birthday on February 29 and therefore only turned a year older every four years. They also grew slower than everyone else. Dwight still avoids the topic around them. He also searches message boards trying to find such people. He has yet to have any luck.  

It's February 28 and he's in the break room. Alone and drinking water, still. She wonders if that's why lost a little weight after leaving. She wonders if it had to do with her. Then she feels guilty for thinking that anything she does makes him have a reaction. She buys a coke and sits down next to him.  

"Leap year?" she smiles. Tread lightly. 

He smiles, almost fondly at her. "Not this year, Pam. Gotta wait till 2008." 

She shrugs, drags her finger around the top of her soda can,

"I think it should be." He's amused. Despite everything, he can't turn that off, amongst other things. "Pam you can't just decide for it to be leap year. There is a schedule to these things. The sun and the moon and earth would be all out of whack and the next thing you know, Dwight and Andy would be friends. Lovers, even." 

She laughs. "Well, I'm deciding its leap year. I think four years is too long without a leap," she says. She looks him in the eye, gets up, and walks out of the room.

There was a bit of confidence in her walk. He notices, his eyes follow her.  

She sits at her desk and thinks. He comes back and sits, still with his back towards her. With him sitting like that, all she does is think. And sometimes, she watches their interactions. She doesn't hate Karen. She can't. Because really, it's not about her. In the beginning it wasn't and it still isn't now.  

Because now with Karen here it's starting to come into perspective.

She thinks maybe this is what Jim must have felt like for all those years. She knows that kick in the gut feeling that she must have inflicted on him countless times. The feeling she gets when she sees small glimpses into their private life together.

It's been four months and it hasn't gotten easier. It's felt like years. Jim had to deal with years. Except the years he waited, he was able to witness her falling out of love - She's getting to watch him fall in love. At least that's what she assumes. What he didn't and still doesn't know, is that she was falling in love at the same time - only with him. She's not sure which situation is worse.  

Sometimes when she thinks too much she does have moments when any hope is crushed. Moments when she sees them walk to his car together holding hands. Moments when he buys her a bag of chips or a drink. It's the little things. These things that chip away at self-preservation. She's almost thankful for them. Because without them, she wouldn't reach a breaking point.  

But then Pam knows there are still their moments.  Moments that Karen doesn't see and that Pam feels guilty about. That she can see he feels guilty about. Moments when it's just them. Simply them and it's right and she can feel hope in her and see hope in him. Deep down, there is still something left in him for her, she knows it.  

Like when Michael decided to have The Great Dunder Mifflin Scavenger Hunt Extravaganza. No one was really sure why they had to spend from their lunch time on wandering around the Scranton Business Park and parking lot looking for basically meaningless items in teams.  

"It'll be a chance for everyone to invade all the other offices in the building and bridge new, eternal, life long friendships," Michael said in the conference room.

Dwight immediately asked to be on his team. Michael picked Andy. And also Ryan and Karen. Andy was the only happy one. Dwight was determined to beat them all. Certain items to find included: a Dunkin Donuts napkin, a condom, a turkey sandwich, a mini fridge, and a person from another office.

Somehow, with Michael's doing, Jim and Pam were on a team together, along with Stanley and Creed. Stanley refused to play and Creed, well Creed went on a mission to steal one of Bob Vance's mini-fridges, despite already having one. This left Pam and Jim alone and pretty much together. They decided to check her car for a napkin.  

She's in the driver's seat, he's in the passenger's and they're both looking through her car for any sign of anything for Michael's stupid idea. 

"This is a small car," he says, laughing. His knees are almost up to his chest. 

"Push the seat back, it's underneath in the front," she says while sifting through the crap in her center console. He pulls and flies back. 

"Geez, this car is out to get me." She laughs at him.

"It's not. You just have to be nice to it."

"Right," he deadpans.

She smiles. "Why are we even doing this anyway?" 

"Do you really have to ask?" she says, "Look in the glove compartment, I'm pretty sure I have some napkins in there." 

He opens the compartment and moves some papers around, her registration, insurance, then actually finding a dunkin napkin. And a mixtape. 

"Found it," he says, grabbing a bunch and taking them out. Along with the tape. He holds it up for her, smiling. 

"Hey!" she says grabbing it from him. "I haven't listened to this in a really long time."

For some reason, he doubts that. She puts the tape in. She actually had made sure her new car had a tape player. Michael Stipes' voice blares from the speakers, both of them cracking up at the sound of "Everybody Hurts." Her laughter dies down a little as she listened to the words and thought back to the day of the fire.

"We had fun that day, didn't we?" she says, her eyes sort of staring at the tape player, almost too afraid to look at him.

He streches, his long arm going around the back of her seat. 

"It was...interesting," he says, smiling. She could see the wheels turning in his head. She knows he was thinking of other things that happened that day. And it partially annoys her, and partially makes her feel guilty.  

"This was one of the best presents I ever got." She turns to face him, sitting sideways towards him now. His body follows her direction. He doesn't say anything for a moment. Just keeps his lips tight and nods. It reminds him of when she told him she couldnt remember the last time someone ever made her dinner. And that makes him kind of angry.  

"Well, I'm just glad you liked it. I had fun making it."

They're not looking at each other, Pam, instead, twisting her fingers while his tap against the top of her seat. If she leaned back, he could touch her hair. He noticed she wore it differently lately. How could he not.  

She feels his hand there. And she leans back. And he doesn't pull away.

It was one small moment of them both not running away.

She closes her eyes for a second and is pretty sure she heard him breath deeper. His hand stills for a moment, then it starts to move.

It moves down her hair, to her shoulder, down her arm. It feels painfully and perfectly slow to her. His fingers reach her fingers. At the same time they both intertwine.

"Pam..." he starts to say. His voice was throaty. Dry. 

"I want..." she squeezes. "I, just...Why don't we ever say exactly what we're thinking at the exact moment we're thinking it?" 

"Pam..." he says again. The same tone. 

"I want...I just want..." she sighes, still holding tightly. She looks like she is fighting so hard to express herself. 

And then there's a knock on the window. Creed. Holding a mini fridge. Pam turns around and presses the button for the window, looking at him expectantly. 

"I managed to get one of these from Bob Vance. I say we high tail it out of here while we can," he says, looking around suspiciously. 

Jim and Pam glance at one another, then get out of the car.

Jim forgot the Dunkin Donuts napkin. Needless to say, the did not win the Dunder Mifflin Scavenger Hunt Extravaganza.

He begins to shut down his computer around ten to five. She doesn't know where he's going or what he's doing after work, and really, she doesn't care because that's not going to stop her. She's determined. Karen brought her own car today. Pam's not sure if there's a reason behind that or what's going on with them, but she sees Karen stop at Jim's desk, they exchange a quick goodbye, and Karen walks out the door.  

Pam doesn't ask why. Jim grabs his bag, slides in his chair and walks over to reception, just as she begins to do the same. He grabs his jacket, and for the first time in forever, he hands her hers.  

"Thanks," she says.

They walk silently to the elevator. The ride down is quiet, familiar.

He holds the front door open for her as she walks out, in the direction of her car. 

"Hey, Pam," he calls. She turns around. "Don't forget to celebrate your leap year, okay?" 

She smiles. "I won't." 

He doesn't say anything, just smiles, almost to himself, and turns around to get into his car. He sits there for a minute. He doesn't know what to do anymore. He's lost. He's moved on. He's regressed. He doesn't know which way is straight and forward.  

His passenger door slamming brings him back. 

"Pam?" 

"Drive." 

"What? Where?" He's confused. 

"Jim, just. Just, please. Trust me. Please leave this parking lot. I can't do this here," she tells sincerely. There's a look in her eye that intrigues him, that sparks something in him.  

He doesn't ask what this is. He only starts the engine and steps on the gas. "Um. Where am I going?" 

"Head towards the Atlantic City Expressway." 

"What?! Are we gambling?" He's obviously confused and kind of amused. 

"No. No gambling this time," she says quietly, staring out the window. He drives. 

"Um, Pam?," he asks finally, 15 minutes into New Jersey.  

She turns and looks at him, knowing she needs to say something. 

"Yea?" 

"I, um, I need to stop and get gas." 

"Oh," it takes her by surprise. "Yeah, stop wherever then," she turns and looks back out the window. 

He pulls into a gas station and the attendent comes to fill up the tank. "I'm just going to go run to the bathroom, you good?" She nods. When he comes back he has two bottles of soda and a big bag of sunchips. 

"I figured we're probably not having dinner, so," he says, handing her a bottle and opening the bag of chips, then placing it in the center console. 

She's pretty close to astonished. She practically kidnapped him, made him drive out of the state, and doesn't tell him anything and he's concerned about her state of hunger. She lets him start the car and pull out of the station before she says something. 

"Jim." 

"Hm," he glances at her. 

"I need to stop doing this." 

"What, making people randomly driving randomly drive you out of state?" he laughs a little to himself and eyes her quickly. 

"No. This. Not being...not telling the truth." 

"Truth?" he questioned. 

"I deserve to be happy too." She's looking at him now. It's kinda of hard to do this with him driving. It's not what she had planned at all. He quickly eyes her before turning back to the road.

"I understand Pam." 

"I think you should, can you, um, pull over?" she asks him. He finds a spot and does. He turns off the car and everything goes silent. 

"I deserve to be happy," she says again. It almost sounds like she's trying to convince herself. 

"Pam, I-I know you do. You deserve to be happy." 

"You ever notice that when one aspect of your life gets better, another part gets worse? Like, I love where I am, my apartment, taking art classes, you know, doing something to change. But the whole other side...it's just, not...right."  

"Yeah, I can understand that." 

"You just, Jim...you just. I just. Last May Jim." She looks him directly in the eye. "Last May..." 

"Pam, I know. I know. Believe me." 

"No. No you don't. Jim, we don't talk." 

"Pam. You didn't - you don't talk to me. I tried. I tried." 

"No. No you don't get to do that. You don't get to pretend that you're the only one who got hurt." 

He's taken aback by her boldness. She's staring at him intensely now, this annoyed, angry look on her face that he thinks he's never really seen before. 

"I made mistakes Jim. But so did you. But I needed my time alone. I needed to make that decision without you, because the relationship I was in deserved at least that respect. But so did you. I shouldn't have pretended that nothing happened, that nothing changed and that I wasn't feeling what I was feeling."  

He's staring at the steering wheel now. Her voice echos with the cars speeding past. 

"I shouldn't have told you that we were only friends. That you misinterpreted things. Because you didn't. At all. And when I got everything, I mean the mess in my head and life settled, I should have tried. I know."  

He glances up at her, looking her directly in the eye. She's not sure if he's mad or hopeful or shocked. 

"You were my best friend Jim. I hate where we are right now," she looks down at her hands. "But I'm sick of feeling like I am the bad person here. I screwed up. But you, you ran away too. And that-that just was..."  

"Pam.." 

"No. I tried. When I heard you were coming back I thought I would be able to see my friend again and tell him that I made mistakes and that I was sorry. I was hopeful, but I wasn't expecting anything more than friendship from you. But then, then you just, and I just... I am who I am Jim. I'm trying here, really, truly trying." She still is determined and there's no tears because none are needed. Finally.  

"I avoid. I know I do. I'm sorry but I was just trying to protect myself, I knew she was and you were, and I just felt it and I didn't want to get hurt. I get that feeling you had. But you put up walls too Jim. It's not just me. And I'm sorry...I'm just sorry. And tired. And I can't do this anymore. I...I can't."  

His hands are still on the steering wheel, gripping them. There's silence. And cars. She shifts in her seat. He thinks he hears her say "just say it," to herself, but he's not sure. 

"I'm in love with you. I was then...too." 

As soon as the words leave her lips she sucks in a breath and closes her eyes. His head falls to the back of his seat. It's spinning and he's elated and scared and pissed and want to punch the horn all at once. He turns back on the car, and gets back on the highway. Staying on course. Wherever that course is. 

"Okay, where are we going exactly?" 

She tells him to turn off at Exit 13 on the Garden State Parkway. Make a left.

 They're on a straightaway, all that surrounds them is darkness and swamp leading to the bay and bridge which leads to an island.  They go over the bridge. 

"Make a right," she tells him. There are mansions everywhere, almost all of them dark. He can smell the ocean on his left and sees that it's only a block east. He's never been to the shore in the winter. 

"Make a left," she tells him.

He drives and drives until he hits the dunes before the ocean. They park, she gets out and he follows. 

"Thanks you Jim," she says as they walk to a little deck, peaking out over beach. There's snow on the ground. It's one of the weirdest sights he's ever seen. 

"Anytime Pam." 

"Are you...I mean..." she begins. He knows what she’s asking, but doesn’t even know where to begin. He had spent almost the rest of the entire ride in silence.

"I don't know what to say anymore," he shrugs. "I...I feel like when I'm with you, I just...god," he looks at her then looks up. 

"Last May." He states. "I don't like how I am with you anymore Pam." 

She tenses. That's not what she was hoping to hear. But she listens. "I don't like the wall no more than you do. But twice, it happened, twice Pam. And you said you were going to marry him. Then you didn't. And you didn't call. And then I heard about your date. And I was in Stamford with no idea I was coming back. I had to move on. I saw no other choice because I mean..really..there was none. And you wouldn't talk to me. You would never open up and just come out and say what the hell was going on inside your head." His hands are gripping the railing now and it’s almost as if he's shouting towards the water. It echos.  

"But then I come here and again you don't tell me. And I know I'm also to blame for that. I know I am. I played a game with you, I get that, but I didn't intentionally want you to hurt. Never Pam, never."  

"And then I'm moving on, you know. I'm really moving on with this woman who's awesome and kind and beautiful and yet I somehow am put within an inch of you and I can't think or control…anything. And none of it makes any sense."  

The last sentence sends shivers down her arms. She's sick of control too. "Me too," she says to him, "that's what I feel too."

He leans back, standing straight and facing her. 

"How come we never say it then?" he asks her sincerely. 

"Seriously screwed up issues?" she questions and they both laugh. 

"That felt good," she says. 

"What did?" 

"That. Telling you. Laughing. This." She motions between them and her hand hits his jacket. It lingers. Only for a second. 

"Yeah," he smiles, "It does." He notices her shaking a little. She's freezing. He's freezing. "Hey, do you want to go back in the car," he motions.

She nods her head and they walk. But he stops. "Pam." She turns and looks at him, questioning. 

"In the spirit of all this. I just, I thought I should tell you that Karen and me, we're…not anymore. Haven't been...for a few weeks." 

"Oh." She says. She feels like she can almost break the surface. "Okay." 

“I just thought, you know…you should probably know.” He smiles.

“Yeah,” she says. She smiles. 

“Lets warm up the car” he says as they climb in. 

“Hey,” he says, rubbing his hands together for warmth, “in the spirit of all this, once again…tell me something.” 

“Sure.” 

“Why the HELL did we come to the beach in the middle of the winter?” 

They both start laughing, her cheeks red from the cold and the laughing and everything. 

“I just,” she tries to get out, “I just needed to get out of…there. And I love this place. It was simple really,” she shrugs.

He grins. “Four hours Pam, we’re four hours away from Scranton.” 

“And see, you got to see the beach,” she points, “during winter. Which is so cool.” 

He shakes his head, he can’t argue with that. “I’ll admit it was kind of cool.” 

“Good,” she says sinking into her seat. 

“Although it would be nice if I could actually see what this place looked like. It’s like a ghost town, there are no lights.” 

“Yeah sometimes it’s like that in the summer too, it’s weird. But I love it.” 

“Do you think. I mean…maybe there’s a place. Do you think we could stay? It’s already 11:30…” he says a bit unsteadily and unsurely. 

She swallows. Don’t back down, she thinks, don’t stop yourself, don’t think. 

“Good idea. I, I know a place.”

They’re able to get an ocean view, since they’re pretty much the only people in the motel. It’s small and modest and perfect and warm.

They walk in, taking off their jackets. She feels like she’s a teenager again and her mom and dad are gone for the weekend and she’s alone with a boy and she has no idea what’s going to happen. And she loves it. 

They both stand awkwardly for a moment in front of the two queen sized beds. He smiles at her, she smiles at him. 

“Pam,” he says. His voice is different and she’s not sure why. 

“Yeah?” 

“Back there, what we said…I just wanted you to know that I’m not upset or angry or anything, you had a right to say what you did. I think that’s pretty much all I wanted you do to all along,” he shrugs, his hands dug deep in his pockets. “I just needed you to know that.” 

“No. I mean, me too. I’m glad I did and you did.” She’s still a little confused. 

“Do you want to watch TV?” he asks laying down on the bed, his arms crossing behind his head. 

“Not really,” she says, sitting down on her own bed. She glances over at him, thoughts running through her head. Wrong and so right. 

“Pam.” That voice again. She turns and looks at him.

“Hm?” 

“Come here.” 

And she does. She walks over to the bed, lays down next to him and hugs and tightens and hugs.

His arms are around her and she can finally breathe. She breathes him and exhales and tucks her head into the crook of his neck. It feels right. 

At first neither move, happy just to be there. This is the closest they’ve ever been and she feels like it’s enough and not enough at the same time. Slowly his hands start to make circles on her lower back. Dizzy, slow circles that make her so happy, there’s no feeling to describe it. She starts to do the same with the back of his neck. Her hands trace circles up into his hair and back down again. She thinks she might be shaking.  

Their foreheads are together and she can’t see his face and she’s pretty sure both of them are increasing their breathing and their eyes are closed. Things stay like that for awhile, just touching different places, her arms, his back, her hair…neither going too far or too fast. She noticed though that she could feel his breath against her lips. That’s how close they were. And she knew what had to happen, and she felt it was up to her. 

“Jim…” she whispers. 

“Mmmm,” he exhaled obviously content.

And just as he sighed outwardly she presses her lips against his. He doesn’t fight against her. Only holds her tighter and moves his lips against hers. She pulls at his bottom lip, brings her hands up into his hair. Doesn’t think and just moves. She feels his long arms no longer staying in safe zones but moving all around her, grabbing, holding moving her closer. 

“Pam,” he pulls away for a second, “Is this. This is?” 

She shakes her head against his lips, “Yeah..yes it is.” 

“Pam,” he says again, strained. He moves back a little more, so that he can see her eyes.

“I…I still. I love you.” 

Her eyes shine and she smiles. “I love you.”

She laughs. Because saying it out loud and not just to herself in her bedroom makes her feel happy, for once. 

He laughs and he brings her closer, rolling, hovering over her and sinking downward into the bed. 

They look at each other and suddenly it’s not that funny anymore. Suddenly she doesn’t feel like a teenager. She feels like an adult about to start something that could be the rest of her life.

 “Jim, this is going to take work, isn’t it?” 

“I hope so,” he says, his fingers interwining with hers next to her head. “Otherwise, it wouldn’t be fun, right?” 

She nods her head at him and brings her hands up to behind his head, pulling him towards her, his lips pressed against hers.  

They don’t talk about what happens next. Clothes disappear and body parts are explored and incoherent words are said and felt. 

When he’s under her and she’s panting, both tired and done, she falls against him, her head falling right where his heart is. She can hear it and feel it. His arms encircle her back and they breathe, in and out, together.  He finally talks.

“Pam.” 

“Yeah?” 

“It’s the 29th.” 

She laughs. “No it’s not, it’s March.” 

“Are you really sure about that?” 

“Well…” she says as he kisses the top of her head, laughing a little. “Technically I would have to say it was sort of a leap year. Don’t you think?” she asks.

“Definitely,” he exhales,  “Most definitely.”