Disclaimer: I don't own the office…or fight club, which I briefly reference. I hope you enjoy
Jim stood over the copier; the green light flashed. A copy of a copy of a copy that is how the life of an insomniac was described in a book Jim had read. He couldn't remember when he'd read it, a month, a year, ten years? He couldn't even remember the title. His mind felt distant and foggy.
Jim tried to remember the last time he'd slept, two weeks, the last time he'd visited Pam in New York. Ever since she left Jim couldn't sleep he would lie awake in bed and smell her shampoo drifting to his side of the bed from her pillow.
His life felt so distant, he would constantly look up at reception only to see Ryan doing something gross, like picking at his teeth.
Jim took his paper from the copier and plopped down at his desk.
"That is abuse of company property," Dwight reprimanded.
"It won't happen again," Jim muttered running his hands through his hair. The circles under his eyes seemed etched there in a muted grey color; Jim was pale and looked just plain sick.
"You're agreeing with me? What's the catch Halpert?" Dwight questioned, wondering what sort of prank Jim had planned.
"Nothing, I agree it won't happen again."
Michael Scott stormed into the room with some sort of jubilant announcement; Jim could hardly hear him. A copy of a copy of a copy…Michael's words echoed in his ears and seemed muffled. Jims eyes drooped he was so close to sleep only to be awoken by Dwight's air horn next to his ear.
Jim jumped and glared at Dwight who was too busy supporting Michael's stupid idea to notice.
Jim just wanted Pam back. He wanted to sleep. Most importantly he wanted to stop worrying about the love of his life getting hurt in New York. What if she dies? Jim couldn't live with himself knowing that he'd let her go.
What if she falls in love with someone else? Jim recalled the male voice in the background of one of their last conversations…Pam was thinking about staying in New York.
As much as Jim hated to admit it, he couldn't live in New York. Scranton was his home and he figured it always would be.
Jim looked down at the papers he'd copied earlier; the ink was faded and disjointed. The copier was out of toner. This is how he felt right now, like his life was out of toner.
This thought made him laugh for the first time in weeks.
"What," Dwight demanded, "What are you laughing at?"
"Nothing," Jim said smirking. He wondered what Pam would say if he told her that she was the toner to his life. Probably kiss him and tell him he was crazy.
His phone rang next to him. "Hello?" Jim answered half-heartedly; he didn't really want to deal with a client right now he was too damn tired.
"Dunder Mifflin this is Pam," the caller replied.
Jim's heart stopped and he felt all the air woosh out of him. "I love you," was all he could muster.
"I love you too," Pam said with a giggle, "I called to say I miss you and…"
"Whats that book about the guy with insomnia…where he talks about life being like a copy of a copy," Jim interrupted.
"Fight Club?" Pam questioned wondering what had brought this on.
"Yes that's it, I just couldn't remember it"
As their conversation continued Jim realized he didn't feel quite so tired or quite so distant. After the phone call is over he knew the fog would come back. After all, the only thing that gets rid of fog is sunshine, his sunshine.
AN: This is supposed to be just a one shot, but I think I could continue it if you like the story. Leave reviews and tell me what you think, the more the better even if it is criticism (but please make it constructive).