A/N: I've been on hiatus for a while- this idea was bouncing around in my head for some time so I thought I'd finally give in and write it.
-S.
Jim Halpert had never felt so exhilarated and terrified before. He never had a reason to be. The pure adrenalin coursed through his veins and made his blood buzz in his ears as he approached the fountain. His mind was made up, and he wasn't going to back down this time.
Jim thought his course had been laid out for him a year ago, when he laid it all on the line and told Pam how he felt. He took a gamble and lost; she had turned him down. His response? To run away to Stamford and to never look back. It was cowardly, he knew, but a better alternative than staying in Scranton with no future, no hope, and no Pam.
Stamford was a distraction, and a good one. He found Karen; his constant reminder of another future that he could so easily have, but yet couldn't grasp. He wanted so desperately to move forward that he buried his feelings in the very pit of his stomach as he packed his boxes to move back to the very place he was running from.
He hadn't wanted things to be the same when he walked back into the office. He didn't want to pick up where he left off; he was new Jim Halpert. The one with a career, a promotion and a girlfriend. He wasn't going to be that forlorn guy who watched the girl he loved go home to her fiancé time after time.
He tried everything to move past it and to move forward in his life. He was cold and unwilling to fall back into the old routine with her. He told himself that it didn't matter that she hadn't gotten married.
He wasn't supposed to care when he watched them walk hand in hand as they left Phyllis's wedding together.
He had Karen, and he wasn't looking back at the decision he made for himself.
He realized his path had a fork in it.
As he sat across David Wallace in his expensive suit and new haircut, he told himself that the promotion was what it wanted. He was ready to be Mr. James Halpert, not Jim the salesguy who flirted at reception to kill a day. He was going to move to New York, start a life with Karen and give the finger to everyone in Scranton as he left it in his dust as he it left for good this time.
But then the note fell out. In her handwriting. "Don't forget us when you're famous." So simple and unconditional, and everything he didn't deserve. He was a faker. He felt the past years rush in on him like a waterfall: the pranks, the laughter, the kiss. And instantly he knew his course will be.
He told Karen- which sucked, to say the last. He endured her anger and hurt and frustration; everything he knew he deserved and more. But as he drove back to Pennsylvania he felt lighter than he had in years: to a path that ended with Pam and all the things he secretly hoped for, but never would allow himself to admit to.
"Do you want to have dinner with me?" He asked, hopeful- renewed.
"Yes." Was her surprised response.
"Then it's a date." He almost danced out of the office. He was driving home- full of Scranton and paper and possibilities and Pam.
He heard his cell phone ring as he was whistling on the way over to Pam's apartment. It was Karen. That's okay. He thought. He'd take whatever she could give. He did deserve it and nothing could ruin his good mood.
"Hello?" He answered, expecting tears and anger. He was ready for it. What he wasn't prepared for was the response she gave him.
"Halpert, I just needed to tell you," she paused, and he felt his stomach knot and his knuckles burn on the wheel as he clutched at it for support, "I'm pregnant." She finished simply.
In that moment he saw a new future. A future void of everything bright and happy in his life, one without Pam. It was exhilarating and frightening all at once. Everything he had ever wanted, a life he had hoped and prayed for; but miserably, as he realized as he turned the car around from what his future was supposed to be, drove back into the horizon. He had everything he ever envisioned: he just waited too long and had been too cowardly to have it with the person on the wrong side of the road.