1.
For once there are no cameras around while they are eating lunch, just the two of them, in the break room, and Pam is fiddling with her teapot as Jim buys them chips from the vending machine and all of a sudden he hears Pam hiss loudly in pain. He spins around instantly, his stomach clenching unnecessarily because he soon sees she has only procured a tiny burn on her hand.
"Ouch," Pam mutters darkly, raising her hand to her mouth to suck on the injury. Jim's stomach tightens again, this time for a different reason, but he ignores it and moves immediately to her side.
"Man, Beesly." Jim lets out a low whistle as he tugs her fingers towards him to examine the burn. "This is pretty serious."
Pam giggles a little and doesn't move her hand out of his. Turning on the tap water, he tests the temperature to make sure it's cold enough and then places her hand under the stream, feeling only a small stab of pain as he releases her fingers.
Pam looks up at him and grins to show him how brave she is and they are still standing too close together than is normal but it feels pretty normal to him and he thinks for a moment that if he doesn't tell her now, somehow she will still know. He feels like it's written in huge letters across his forehead in permanent ink, 'JIM LOVES PAM', but apparently she doesn't see it because she just looks away quickly and shuts off the water, takes a step back, and he thinks her smile falters, but just for a second.
2.
It's 10:37 a.m. and Michael hasn't shown up yet, so everyone besides Dwight is kind of sitting at their desks in a stupor, probably daydreaming about taking a long lunch and never returning. This happens about once a month; Michael usually comes in the next day claiming he was on a 'top-secret upper-management sales call' but they all know he was just hung over from hitting Poor Richard's with Todd Packer again.
Pam and Jim are holed up at her desk playing Hangman and occasionally Jim will grab the phone before she can pick it up and answer, "Dundler Mifflin, this is Pam," in his deepest voice and it will take Pam a few minutes to catch her breath after laughing too hard. It's Pam's turn at Hangman and the category is Backstreet Boys Songs and so far Jim has it narrowed it down to T A T S A T S E S A I and Pam is giggling furiously.
"It's really obscure," she warns giddily. "You might not remember it. Or have ever heard it."
Jim can't help but smile at the expression of glee on her face before he turns his attention back to the puzzle. "D," he declares finally, brow furrowed, still unsure of where she's going with this. Pam snickers and fills in the last word and suddenly Jim gets the joke and he cracks up.
"That's what she said!" he whoops, loud enough that Dwight pokes his head out from behind his computer to glare menacingly at them. Pam ducks her head and tries to contain her laughter but lets out a little snort and Jim thinks he's probably never heard a more adorable noise in his life.
Her hand grips his arm for a moment as she recovers but Jim's chuckles have already disappeared, giving way to a familiar feeling of desperation that sometimes settles over him at moments like this, when he can't forget how completely in love with her he is. She finally quiets to the occasional snigger and straightens in her seat, cheeks flushed and cardigan rumpled, and Jim stares at her for a second too long and thinks maybe he'll just blurt it out, right here in the middle of the office on an ordinary Tuesday morning.
Instead, though, she moves to make a mark in Jim's column on their score sheet that currently reads: Jim – 2, Pam – 5 (okay, so maybe he let her win a couple of times, added fingers and toes to the doomed hangman) and he catches a glimpse of her engagement ring and the words die on his lips instantly. Faking a smile, he accepts the pencil she hands him and searches his brain for a song title.
3.
There's a funny buzzing in his head but Jim is not drunk. The buzzing is kind of nice once you get used to it, he decides, because it's coating everything in such a pleasant way that for once he's not thinking about his Deepest Darkest Secret.
This is ruined, however, because the thought only serves to remind him of how just last week he and Pam were playing Truth or Dare and mostly choosing silly questions like "If you had to have someone else in the office's hair, whose would you pick?" but after a few rounds, Pam asked, "What's your deepest, darkest secret?"
Jim had cleared his throat and diverted his eyes before replying in a joking whisper, "In fifth grade, Cindy Woodworth sat in front of me in science class and she was so annoying, always smacking her gum. So one day I stole a piece and chewed it and stuck it in her hair. She didn't notice for a couple of hours so no one knew it was me. The next day her hair was, like, six inches shorter."
Pam had giggled and appeared satisfied with his flippant answer but now all Jim can think about is how maybe she wouldn't have minded hearing the Truth.
The remaining sober part of Jim shakes these thoughts from his head and glances around the room, searching for something to distract him. They are having a Harry Potter party and Jim has no clue why Michael has chosen today for this particular theme, since it's not like a book or movie has come out in months, but that's Michael for you and Jim doesn't mind since Meredith spiked the sparkling cider (labeled 'Butterbeer') and Roy is on a hunting trip with his brother so the headache he usually gets when Pam's fiancée is around is thankfully absent.
By the time he catches sight of her, he's trapped pretending to listen to Kelly's mind-numbing chatter. She's across the room talking to Phyllis, fiddling with her necklace as she smiles at something the older woman says, and for some reason she just looks so inordinately beautiful his chest aches. Excusing himself without a backward glance, he starts towards her, determined to do something, once and for all, even though by now he is mostly drunk and only a little sober and might regret this once his head clears.
He's by her side in a few strides, hand on her elbow, opening his mouth to say something, anything, but his body is apparently moving faster than his brain because he can't seem to gather his thoughts into actual words. Pam laughs nervously and Phyllis drifts away subtly, a small smile forming on her face.
"Pam—" There's a look on Jim's face that is unusual but not unfamiliar; it's one she catches sometime when he thinks she's not looking or sometimes when she says something that colors Roy in an unflattering light. Pam has a few suspicions of what might be behind The Look but she's a sensible girl and she tries not to fantasize about them.
"How much have you had to drink?" She can't help but ask with a small giggle. A quick, lopsided grin transforms his face back into normal, safe Jim again and she tugs his sleeve to lead him into the break room. "Let's get you some coffee, okay?"
Jim tries to work up the nerve to tell her again but now it's too late. He dutifully allows her to pour him a cup of coffee and thinks wistfully that maybe he'll try again tomorrow.
4.
He had thought endlessly about what it would be like to see her again. How could he not? Months had gone by since the last time they'd been face-to-face and that Casino Night back in May was still burned into his mind no matter how many images he tried to replace it with.
The morning the Stamford crew begins at Scranton he's prepared himself (so he thinks) and he's allowed himself to pretend to believe that seeing Pam again won't affect him, won't make him rethink every choice he's made since he kissed her against his desk in the dim light of computer screens.
Then he sees her. And she has this ridiculously happy grin on her face, like she can't believe her luck to look up from her desk and see Jim standing there. She lets out a kind of squeal as she jumps up and throws her arms around his neck and he almost slips up again. Almost tells her that he missed her so much in Stamford it keeps him awake all night watching crappy movies that had the same sad endings. Almost tells her how she looks even more beautiful than he remembered, if that's possible, and that he tried not to be in love with her anymore but it was impossible.
But then he remembers that she knows, that she's known for months and done nothing—except call off a wedding ten years coming, the logical side of him points out—but he also remembers his New Life, where he has Karen and actually spends the day working and doesn't roll up his shirt sleeves. And his momentary lapse is over.
5.
He knew this was coming. He had known since day one of his infatuation with the engaged receptionist. Things like these always came out; and now, three years later, here was evidence of the lowest point in his life displayed for the entire office's viewing pleasure. It was inevitable that Pam would find out, and then Karen, and now, long overdue, Roy. In some way, he has been waiting and it's almost a relief that it's finally arrived.
There is a lucid moment, as Roy stands glowering before him and everyone is frozen in apprehension, where Jim thinks that this is what everything in the past year has boiled down to, and for what? Things are exactly are the same. Better, maybe; worse, maybe. But the same. And why did he never tell Pam he was wrong? Wrong to leave, wrong to assume, wrong not to wait…
In this split second, he glances towards Pam and their eyes meet but this time the panic he sees written clearly across her face is for him, for them, really, and there's a stabbing in his chest that has nothing to do with the that comes with the knowledge that a fist is probably about to smash into his nose.
The last thing he thinks before he is blinded by pepper spray is that he should have told her earlier.