"I'm sorry, what was the question again?"

Pam had not acknowledged much else after that. After the tears had fogged her vision with four years worth of pent up heartache, the subsequent elation had seemed to render her completely unable to string a sentence together. She had half heartedly stumbled her way through the remainder of the interview before walking (with terribly hidden anticipation) to grab her coat and bag, and left the office without even a glance back- having deciding that she would explain herself to Michael in the morning.

Despite knowing that Jim had seen her at both her occasional best and on those few mornings that Pam frequented the office following a night of one too many drinks, it had taken her at least an hour to even begin to know what to wear. She had reached for one of her more expensive blue dresses before realising that she had been wearing it on casino night, the night Jim had first poured his heart and soul out to her, and their lips had first touched for real. Too soon Pam, she had thought.

A text from Jim confirming the time and place of their date had forced her to attempt to escape the stress spiral she seemed to have initiated. She had tried to assure herself that, hopefully, Jim wouldn't care what she was wearing, and eventually had decided on a dress that, despite that comforting thought, she really, really hoped made her look pretty.

So there she stood. She was perched under the restaurants awning, sheltering from the frankly horrifically timed downpour that had decided to present itself just as Pam had stepped out of the cab at La Bella Italia. Looking across the street searchingly she felt her palms dampen with what she knew were irrational nerves, as she waited. Waited. He wouldn't bail on her would he? No, don't be ridiculous Pam, he asked you, remember? But What if he forgot? No, he wouldn't forget...would he? This succession of frantic thoughts seemed to run on repeat every twenty seconds, but eventually- after what admittedly felt like several decades of waiting- she saw a familiar head several inches above those surrounding it, adorned with it's usual puppy dog mop of hair. Relief turned to bliss turned to once again hideous nerves all in the space of two seconds. Emerging to the edge of the sidewalk was her Jim. She thought it without hesitation, and it was then that she had had the first of many small realisations she would come to have that evening; he was her Jim. If one thing was clear to Pam at that very moment, it was that whoever they both ended up with and wherever life took them, be that on separate paths or an adjoining one, he would always, always be her Jim. The same Jim that caught her eye from over the street, raised hand on gangly arm in the air as a greeting, and gave his signature smirk- but it was the smirk that, unbeknown to him, he only ever gave to the woman currently shivering under the sinking awning of a just-above-average restaurant. Pam couldn't and didn't stop the smile that radiated from her as she too gave a gawky wave.

Oh, how she had missed that smirk.

"Dunder Mifflin, this is Grace."

To be perfectly honest, he hadn't had to think about much after that.

It was as if upon hearing that phrase, he had begun to just remember. Those five words, the last of them wrong. He remembered the first time he had heard them. He remembered every moment in-between; the angelic sonority of her laugh, sitting at his uncomfortable desk at his monotonous job and feeling that little bit better, for just knowing that she was seated five feet away from him. He remembered hearing those words that, unknown to him until now, were sacrosanct. He remembered hearing them every single day and each time being reminded that there was always a reason to stay, and feeling an impossible combination of adoration, comfort, sometimes heartache and longing, but always the one constant. She was his reason to stay.

Which had begged the question, what the hell was he doing without her!?

The note from Pam had come as a final blessing in disguise; he had never been so sure of anything in his life. Running away from the receptionist was not going to stop him wanting her every, single, day, and he had to at least try to win her back. He hadn't even considered what would happen if she turned him down now, but it hadn't mattered. Everything was Pam. He already felt idiotic enough for leaving in the first place, and the least he could do was forget everything else and just attempt to revive what, in his mind, was perfect. He didn't want anything but her.

And now there she was, her, standing before him, her hair and face a little dampened by the rain but looking as radiant as she had done every time he had ever seen her smile. He seemed to be unable to move his hand out of the ridiculous wave he had given her- he felt slightly hypnotised by just seeing her there. For a second he began to think how close he was to never seeing that smile again, but using that thought as fuel he pulled himself together and slow-jogged across the street and under to awning to where Pam was standing.

It took a while for them to stop wordlessly smiling at each other, but Jim didn't care. God knows he didn't care.

"How's it going, Beesly?" He said, hoping he conveyed how much he had missed saying those words.

"Well, I'm soaked to the skin and incredibly cold." She gave a smile that Jim saw she tried to pass off as sarcastic, before giving in and letting it spread across her face.

"...But, yeah. I'm holdin' out."

"Well, thank you for asking how I am." Jim replied, in mock disgust, as he lead her into the restaurant by resting his hand tentatively on the back of her arm. Pam let out a laugh that threw her head back and crinkled her eyes shut, and Jim felt it physically warm his entire being. She fell from the laugh on a content sigh, and she nodded slightly while observing him.

"Good to see ya, Halpert."

It had been half an hour since they'd sat down at their table for two, situated just by the window. It occurred to Pam that if she were here with anyone else, she would have enjoyed watching the way the lights outside seemed to be dispersed by each drop of rain and the goings on of the bustling street- well, as bustling as Scranton could be on an overcast thursday night. Tonight, however, she didn't think she had looked anywhere other than at Jim for more than a second. It was all passing in somewhat of a blur; she somehow simultaneously felt completely absorbed in the moment and also like she was out of body, watching herself sit there like some kind of dream in waking.

Dream was the right word.

She couldn't count the number of times she had imagined this moment, yet strangely it felt no different to any other time she had sat and laughed or gossiped or schemed with Jim. Talking to him had always been like talking to the love of her life. She knew that now. But every moment that she had spent staring across the desk at this messy haired, smirking puppy dog of a guy, every tear she had shed at those moments when she felt most alone, every day she had found herself forgetting about any trouble she'd ever had at just the sound of his warm, familiar voice...it all seemed to be coming to this incredible crescendo before her, but she felt no different. The only change was that now the longing, the self conflict, the guilt, the confusion, all of it- that which had once tormented her every waking moment for the last four years, was all gone. She was simply happy- blissfully, enchantedly, euphorically happy.

After an hour of endless laughter and two delicious courses, Jim felt that it was going well- not to mention the bottle and a half of wine they had collectively managed to consume. With every sip he felt his whole body warming from his chest outwards, as if something different, some elixir of utter elation, now ran in his veins. Frankly, love sick was the only way to describe it.

"You know, I'm kind of glad Michael didn't get the job." Pam said.

"Pam are- are you feeling okay? Did you actually just state an affectionate comment about Michael Scott?"

"Come on Jim, you know what I mean. Can you imagine the office without him? Seriously, try and picture it, right now. Like, It just doesn't work."

"Yeah, it doesn't work, but you know what, we might actually work without him around doi- oh have got to be kidding me."

For Jim had seen, through the distortions of the rain splattered window, none other than Karen Fillipelli: his ex girlfriend of barely even four hours, walking arm in arm and looking extremely cosy with a man that Jim didn't recognise.

At his abrupt distraction, Pam had obviously followed Jim's line of sight and had whipped her head around, just in time to see Karen and her new companion pass by. Jim knew that his happiness should have been impenetrable this evening, and it wasn't, not really- but he couldn't help feeling a little ruffled that Karen had already managed to find his replacement and didn't look the slightest bit resentful of their earlier breakup. As Pam turned her head back Jim could see that she was hurt by his occupancy with something that even he knew he shouldn't have been at all bothered by, and he hastily tried to correct his error.

"But like, whatever, you know? I don't care. Obviously, why would I care? Good for- for Karen." He gave a feeble attempt at a satisfied smile, but he knew this was not going well.

God dammit Karen, he thought, can you not just let me be with Pam!?

Still looking somewhat disheartened, Pam retorted,

"Yeah...yeah good for Karen. I would just hate to have been the reason for the unhappiness of a girl who was always going to be able to find a new man in a matter of minutes."

Trying to brush this topic of conversation off with a nervous laugh, Jim took an extra large gulp of wine.

He genuinely almost turned to look anxiously at a non existent camera.

Pam knew she was being irrational. Obviously Jim didn't care for Karen anymore, or he wouldn't be here now. He wouldn't have refused the best job offer he'd ever had, broken up with his first stable relationship in a long time and come back all for her. She knew it was just a natural human emotion for Jim to be a little annoyed at Karen for moving on so quickly, it didn't reflect on how he felt about Pam at all. She knew that.

So why could she feel the sting of tears welling at the back of her eyes, and her throat closing up a little more every second. She blamed it on the overwhelming emotions of the day, the little-more-than-necessary amount of wine she had consumed, and, regrettably, the simple suggestion that tonight might not have been quite as special to Jim as she'd hoped it would be. She did not ever want to be considered a rebound, and especially not by Jim.

Despite all of this, it seemed that in an attempt to cover up her sadness she could not seem to stop talking about Karen.

"So, uh, ho-how do you feel about the breakup?" She enquired, speaking a little louder than before to combat the constriction of her throat.

Jim looked a little confused, and rightly so. Why was she actively keeping this subject up!? With a slight frown, he said,

"Uh...I mean not great, I guess. We were going out for like, 3 months, but- we really don't have to talk about this Pa-"

"And did you think it was going to last longer? I mean, it seemed like you really liked each other." She could hear the resent pouring into her deadpan words, and she hated herself for it, but she hated Karen more, and she hated the fact that she'd ruined what was supposed to be a perfect evening, and hated that Jim had even cared. She was being selfish. She didn't know whether to be more upset with herself or with the circumstances.

There came the increasing threat of tears again.

"I don't know, Pam." Jim said, softly, questioningly. He sounded dejected and heavyhearted, and immediately Pam regretted making such a fuss. An unbearable silence settled upon the table, and after several drawn out moments Pam settled on swallowing her sorrows in wine, Jim appearing to do the same. She decided it was time to give it up. Awash with disappointment and needing to just get home and sob, she said,

"D'you wanna get the cheque?"

For a moment Jim seemed taken aback, obviously surprised that she was going as far as actually leaving, before saying,

"Ye-yeah, if...if that's what you want."

Pam knew they weren't just talking about cheques anymore. She could barely speak for the tears she was suppressing, so she just nodded, quickly got up as Jim took care of the bill, and made her way to the door. Waiting outside, she dreaded the thought of saying goodbye to him- there was no way she would be able to make it through that without completely unravelling into a mess of heartbreak and tears. Jim came out of the door, buttoning up his coat to the top against the cold wind that had presented itself to the already rainswept night. He turned to her. Pam couldn't stand to look at his eyes, normally so full of life and promise, for more than a second. Before he could say a word, she said,

"Goodnight Jim. I'll talk to you soon." She turned from him, giving herself up to the sadness that had been eating away at her for the last 20 minutes and letting the tears roll down her face. They disguised themselves within the raindrops that delicately fell upon her skin, and she walked on.

The only reason Jim didn't immediately run after her, was that it took him several seconds to get over the sudden certainty that washed over him- no, crashed into him. He could have sworn it nearly knocked him off his feet. In that moment he was certain of nothing but this.

He never, ever, ever wanted to see Pam walking away from him again.

Everything that happened after that was completely out of his conscious control- he felt his legs begin to run, his affirmation driving him forward.

"Pam!" He called, desperate now. He could see her through the crowds ahead of him, and it didn't take long before his hand was in hers and he was pulling her back and she was stopping abruptly and he was saying breathlessly,

"Pam, wait up, please."

She turned to him, and the look on her face made him feet like someone had taken his heart and thrown it onto the cold, hard the ground before him. She began to protest, pulling away, but he only held tighter to her hand, pulling her towards him by placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. If there was any time to open his heart to Pam, it was now. Still catching his breath, he implored,

"Pam. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that Karen even came up tonight, it shouldn't have been about that, and it was- well, impeccably bad timing of her but that doesn't matter. What matters is that tonight? You and me? It should have happened four years ago. The second I asked you to have dinner with me earlier, I felt like hitting myself for not making it more special or- or romantic, or whatever. But right at that moment, I didn't care. Sitting in that reception in New York waiting for my interview, it all just became so clear to me that doing anything but being with you was just- just ignorant and stupid and I'm sorry I didn't do anything about it before. I've loved you pretty much since the day I met you, and I thought that I could, like, numb the pain of not being with you by just running away from it. That was stupid, and I'm sorry. Look, until Karen happened, I have never felt happier than I did tonight. There is no other option than being with you, Pam. I know that now." Pam had said nothing throughout his lovesick ramblings; her face had merely softened a little more with each word, and Jim felt increasingly hopeful that it was all going to be OK.

"You are...everything." Before he could go on, Pam had reached to pull him towards her by the back of his neck, and then she was kissing him and he was kissing her, and in that engagement of lips Jim knew that she knew just how much his words were the truth. Their embrace felt different this time- he wasn't kissing married Pam or drunk Pam,

she was his Pam.

As they broke apart, Jim rested his forehead upon hers, smiles simultaneously greeting their faces.

"Jim, d'you wanna get a cab?" She said, her breath gently warming his face. He laughed, nodding his agreement, before flagging down a cab with the hand that wasn't entwined with Pam's. He helped her into the backseat, before sitting beside her and letting her head fall to his shoulder. As they drove from the restaurant, the street lamps illuminated the little wisp of her hair Jim could see from the corner of his eye, and his hand in hers, and the road before them.

Tonight had most definitely not been everything Pam had imagined, but, in the long run...

It was so much better.