Title: Nights We Spent Apart Alone
Author: bohowriter
Setting: Directly after Pam has left for art school in the "Weight Loss" episodes.
Author's note: A one-shot of at Jim's late night thoughts early into Pam's stint in NYC. Office belongs to NBC. Title is from "Love Reign O'er Me" by The Who. Reviews are appreciated!
Normally, he slept better. But normally, he wasn't sleeping alone.
This is what Jim thought to himself as his bedroom clock sloughed towards two a.m. He had been lying in bed attempting something resembling slumber for the past four hours. As each minute passed, he grew closer to accepting the fact that he would not see sleep tonight.
Thinking about not sleeping alone, though…that part brought a smile to his face. Ten years ago, he wouldn't have made such a statement about himself. Really, he wouldn't have said it even two years ago. It wasn't that that he didn't date, that women didn't share his bed. He was just particular.
No, "particular" sounded too high-maintenance. "Selective" was a better way of putting it.
Besides that, if he were being honest with himself, he had basically been sleeping beside Pam for years now. If dreams counted. Or if you considered how he could trick his mind into believing she was there first thing in the morning, before he opened his eyes and faced the reality that she wasn't.
And Jim did count all of those imaginary moments, because those times when he could really believe Pam was beside him were sometimes the best parts of his day. And that's why it made the Katie and Karen situations…tricky. Because once you started the habit of visualizing being next to someone in order to hasten sleep, it became very hard to break. Even when another woman was lying beside you.
And then one day, suddenly, it didn't matter. Because there she was. Almost every night. And when he woke in the morning, before even opening his eyes he knew it was no longer a trick of the mind. She was there. Beside him.
Only now she wasn't. And he had to relearn sleeping alone.
It was different now, of course. It was temporary. She would be back. Three months, that was all. And she'd already been gone…Jim stopped to count the days. Sixteen days so far. Only sixteen days. Barely two weeks.
Jim let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He looked at the clock. 2:30 a.m. Forgot it. He surrendered to the insomnia and relocated to the couch.
Channel-surfing at three a.m. was a sad state of affairs, Jim realized. He hadn't done it in ages, and disappointingly found that most of his late-night go-to shows had changed. He finally settled on an old movie, hoping that the familiarity of voices and plot would be enough to lull him to sleep.
He checked the alarm on his phone again, making sure he'd wake up with just enough time to be at work before Creed or Meredith (you didn't have to be the first one to the office in the morning; you just didn't want to be the last). As he put the phone down on the coffee table, it vibrated in his hand. Jim glanced at the screen: one new text.
Three a.m. messages during the work week were rarely a good sign. Jim quickly brought up the text and felt his heart skip a beat when he saw it was from Pam.
Hope this doesn't wake you, it read. Can't sleep tonight…missing you. I love you.
Jim smiled broadly for the first time in what felt like over two weeks. I love you too, he texted back. And I really miss you. But I'm so proud of what you're doing.
With that, he stretched out on the couch, closed his eyes, and slowly drifted off to sleep, his hand still grasping the cell phone. The weight in his palm wasn't the same as having Pam next to him, but it would suffice for now. It served as a reminder, at least, rather than a wish.