Everything was spinning around her. The streets outside the car window, the car itself, Angela's impatient fingers tapping on the wheel. Even that horrible CD of mediocre sax covers in the radio seemed to sum up to her dizziness, while all the excitement of winning the Dundies for the "Whitest Sneakers" was quickly being replaced by nausea.

Pam's two lame attempts for starting a conversation went unnoticed or ignored. During a red light she considered a third one, but Angela's pressed lips and that tapping on the wheel made her clutch her trophy a little tighter and wish for the way to be shorter.

Finally they reached her driveway, and, eager to get out of the car, Pam avoided landing flat on the gravel by some miracle. If Angela heard her stuttered "thanks", Pam never knew. She didn't even wait to see her safe inside.

And now she was alone, pacing hers and Roy's empty house. Did she expect to find him here, after arguing with him outside Chili's? Not really. No, he was probably at one bar or another, getting wasted with the warehouse crowd.

Pam found, to her surprise, that she didn't care either way. Only now she was not sure if she should get to bed or wait for him to come back.

It was strange the way her alcohol-fueled brain was suddenly focusing on some things and pointedly ignoring others. Above it all, the fight. The way she had been annoyed with Roy all day. Was it his fault that watching all those videos of the previous Dundies made her angry at him?

Well, yeah! Pam nodded to the empty apartment, and instantly regretted the gesture as her head throbbed.

Clumsily, she got herself a glass of water and drunk it in two large gulps. "World's Longest Engagement". Fuck. Fuck you, Roy. Fuck those Dundies, too!

Her left hand was still clutching the one Michael gave her just hours ago. Pam looked down at it, and then, with a little difficulty to focus her gaze, at her shoes. So very white.

She chuckled out loud.

Best Dundies ever!

The memory of her own silly happiness made her smile, and all thoughts about Roy seemed to vanish.

She had expected her usual longest engagement award. The usual humiliation. That bitter flavor on her mouth and that sting behind her eyes. But then, why had she gone back after her fight with Roy? If she was convinced she was going to feel even more humiliated because she was alone?

She took a second glass of water.

Because, back then, everything seemed to be preferable to being with Roy.

Because he wouldn't be inside.

Pam looked around. The messy kitchen, with the sink full of dishes waiting for her, always her, to wash them. The mug with their high school logo faded after all the years since they graduated. One abandoned t-shirt hanging from a chair.

Suddenly it all felt suffocating and the nausea overcame her. She barely reached the bathroom in time for the contents of who knew how many margaritas left her. It burned, and afterwards she felt dirty and drained.

Pam took her time to rinse with water, to brush her teeth and even to floss, and even though the nausea was gone, that suffocating feeling was still there. That wet towel abandoned on the floor since the morning shower Roy took. His shampoo. His aftershave.

She turned around quickly, and her foot hit something that clanked loudly against the tiles. She picked up the trophy she hadn't noticed she had taken to the bathroom, and the movement made her feel dizzy again.

I need some fresh air.

Quickly, she walked down the small corridor, into the hall, and looked around again. Air. She needed to get outside.

Just as she had needed to get inside after fighting with Roy on the parking lot.

And it hit her.

The fact was that, the reason she went back was because he, a very different he, would be inside instead.

Jim. His smile. His eyebrows raising as she… memories were coming back like a flood. Did she took the microphone and gave a speech? What did she say? No. That feeling of being trapped was not helping.

With a decisive hand, she took the purse she had dropped when she entered the house, and went outside, the door closing with a loud bang.

Now what?

The cool air of the night felt better, but there was still that unsettling feeling. What had the speech been about? She needed to know. And there was just one way to do it.

Fumbling inside her purse, she found her phone; the unread message from Roy went unregistered as she searched through her contacts list. What came first, the J or the K?

The phone rang once, twice, and she was about to hung up when right at the end of the third, he answered.

"Pam?" his voice sounded hoarse, and if she weren't so confused, she might've registered he sounded very sleepy, too.

"Hey, Jim."

"Hey. You ok? Angela dropped you off all right?"

"Yeah," Angela did drop her, didn't she? "I'm ok. It's just… I needed to ask you something."

"Again?" there was laughter in his voice.

"Huh?" Again?

At the other side, Jim chuckled. "You said you wanted to ask me something, when we were leaving Chili's. Only you never did."

She thought about it for a minute but couldn't remember. "Really?"

"Pam… are you home?" she heard movements on the other side.

"Yeah… no…"

"Where are you? I'm coming over."

"I… I'm just outside my place. I left."

"Why?" more noises and Jim's voice sounded slightly out of breath now. "Is Roy there?"

"No. I don't want him to come home." The statement left her before she could really think about it, but it was true. She didn't want to see him.

"Listen, Pam, I'll be there in 10 minutes, ok? Can you get back in?"

"I don't want to get back in, Jim," unconsciously she stomped her feet on the gravel.

"I don't want you to wait outside either," he retorted.

She was sure she heard an engine being started at Jim's side. "There's a gas station 2 blocks-" she started.

"I know."

"I'll be there."

She didn't wait for his answer, but flipped her phone shut and started walking. What if Roy was driving home right then and he saw her and made her come inside? Pam walked fast, those sneakers being put to good use, while the fresh air seemed to clear her mind a little more.

What was the question she had wanted to ask Jim before? Something to do with the Dundies? No, that didn't seem right. Frustrated, Pam grunted out loud. They had gone out together, and waited for Angela to bring the car. They talked about the writing on the ladies room. She confessed but, of course, he already knew.

And then…

There was something about the Dundies… about her Dundie and Jim. About being drunk and being kicked out?

She was about to ask him, right before getting into Angela's car, and then she saw one of the camera men, badly hidden, so she decided not to ask… not to ask what?!

Again she tried to recreate the events of the night, only to fail and feel stupid and even dizzier. She fell off a chair. Dwight took off his shirt. Ugh, disgusting! Jim helped her. Jim always helped her and that's what made him so special. So important.

But had she fallen before or after receiving her trophy? Somewhat that seemed to be the most important thing to know. That, and the speech, if there indeed had been one. Why was that so very important?

Finally she reached the station, and once inside, she got herself the largest cup of coffee available and very strong mint gum. The coffee was lukewarm and ugly, and combined with the gum it made her feel sick again, but she did not care. She just needed all the help available to focus. To remember.

Feeling awkward, she roamed the three aisles. He had said 10 minutes, how long ago?

"Pam?"

She raised her head so quickly, it hurt again. He was wearing sweatpants and a faded t-shirt, and inexplicably her heart started to beat madly. But this was not the first time her heart did funny things when Jim Halpert was around. Like that time when he asked her about a headache. Or that other time when he left candy at her desk. Or that time when they… kissed?

"Hey, Jim." She said automatically, distracted by this new memory. His lips, her lips, brief, intense. Did she and Jim actually kiss? Was it a real memory or a fantasy? Like one of those fantasies in which she would indulge from time to time, during slow working days?

He strode towards her. "What happened? Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She needed to focus. That kiss just had to be a fantasy. Inappropriate and weird, but not real. "Just… so happy to see you." As she realized she was hugging him, she thanked the alcohol still in her system that made her do that without feeling ashamed. But that was inappropriate too.

"Oh… kay… You still drunk then." He said with a chuckle, but hugging her back nonetheless.

"Not really… maybe a bit." She let go, still balancing her cup of coffee and the purse on her shoulder from which the head of the trophy was clearly visible.

"What do you want to do?" he asked.

"Dunno. No, wait. The question." The question was something very different now. Was there a kiss, Jim? Do I dare to ask this?

"Right, the question. Do you wanna go somewhere else?"

She shrugged, at a loss of what to do next.

"You sure you don't want me to take you to your place?"

"Sure. Not there. Could we go to your place instead?" His place, really? Part of her brain was yelling this was wrong, but the rest of her seemed to decide not to listen.

He looked at her for ten solid seconds before nodding. "Ok."

They exited the station in silence. Finally he spoke, after the car was back on the road.

"Sorry, Pam, but I have to ask. Did you and Roy have a fight?" he finally spoke.

"Yeah, at the parking lot. When he left during the Dundies." She could hardly remember the words, but the feelings were still fresh. "I guess… it was going to happen, sooner or later."

"That's why you were stealing everybody's drinks?"

"Hey!" she protested. "I was just… borrowing them."

"Aha," he said with a chuckle. "Make sure to return those margaritas to Stanley, then."

"I will, don't worry."

After a moment of silence, Jim spoke again, in a would-be casual tone. "So, your fight with Roy…"

"Yeah?"

"Is it… you know… over? Between you guys?"

She thought for a moment. Was it over?

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked," he said after a moment.

"No. It's ok. You got me thinking, that's all."

"You don't have to answer if-"

"I think it's over," she was surprised at how right this answer sounded. "It's like… it's been over for a while… only, I haven't told him yet."

"Sorry," he muttered, and she turned to stare at him. Was he really sorry?

"It's the only thing I know," she felt she had to explain. "Being with him. It's been almost my entire life."

He nodded, but didn't say a thing.

Pam turned back to look through the window. "That doesn't make it right, though." She said, more to herself, but he nodded in agreement.

A light rain had started to fall and the drops running down the window seemed to mirror her elusive thoughts.

A fight. A speech? A kiss?

"Here we are," he finally said, pulling over in front of a small house.

Suddenly she remembered something.

"Don't you have a roommate?"

"Mark. He's at his girlfriend's tonight."

"Oh." Even though he'd said it as an offhand comment, the fact that they were going to be alone suddenly seemed very important.

"Come on, let's run and maybe we won't get too wet."

They did, and laughing a bit, they entered the small house.

He took her coat and hung it next to the door, as she looked around curiously. The place was tidy enough, and even though it was shared with somebody else, it felt Jim's.

"What can I get you? Water? Coffee? Beer?"

"Ugh, no more alcohol, please." She was not feeling dizzy anymore, but the bitterness in her mouth had not disappeared entirely.

"Fair enough," he chuckled.

"Just water?"

"Coming. Make yourself at home"

Pam sat at the edge of the sofa, feeling a little self-conscious. At the other side of the low partition, Jim was filling two large glasses. She couldn't be sure, but there was something in his demeanor that felt a little off. He didn't seem relaxed, not really.

Finally, he put the glasses on the coffee table, after moving a couple of sport magazines to the side.

"So… you didn't forget you house keys…" he said.

"Nooo. I went inside, had some water. And then… left. After throwing up everything I've had since breakfast."

"Niiice, Beesly," he said with a grimace.

"Spectacular. You should've been there."

He chuckled and she felt a little less awkward, a little more confident.

"I don't remember a lot of what happened tonight."

"Well that's a shame," he said with a side smile. "Cause you've be banned from Chili's for life. You might've wanted to have lasting memories."

"What? Because I was drunk?" She seemed to have a new memory now. Something to do with her driver's license, maybe...

"Was? Aren't you still drunk?"

She smiled sheepishly. "The world has stopped spinning as much."

"Will you remember this in the morning?" He asked, and suddenly he looked grave, so unlike every day's Jim.

"I will. I want to."

"Ok."

She took some water and he mirrored her.

"Can I use your bathroom?" she suddenly blurted out.

"Oh no, a replay Beesly?" He said with mock horror that maybe had some truth in it.

"No! I just had too much water and almost a gallon of coffee."

"Down the hall, door on the left."

She nodded and left. Was she drunk? Not really, not anymore. A very heavy head that was starting to ache, clammy hands, but other than that, she felt strangely lucid. As if it made sense for her to be here.

The image on the mirror was not so composed, so she arranged her hair and her wrinkled shirt, and washed her face. The cool water felt great.

When she returned to the living room, Jim seemed not to have moved.

She took her seat back with a deep sigh.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yeah."

She took her glass of the table, but instead of drinking, she traced the brim. Pam could feel Jim's eyes on her, but he stayed silent.

"Did I give a speech or something like that?" she finally asked.

"Haha, you really don't remember that?"

"So I did?"

"You wrestled the mic out of Michael's hands!" he laughed.

"What? I didn't! Did I?"

"Almost," he said with a chuckle. "And then you gave this acceptance speech and you thanked God, and your shoes, and… stuff. It was hilarious, in a weird sort of way. I think it's all on tape."

She buried her face in her hands. "Oh God…" her voice came muffled.

"God is perfectly satisfied, I think."

At this she laughed and he joined in.

Trust Jim to make her feel better, always. Just his presence made it all feel better. Easier. So unlike the atmosphere at her place. So unlike Roy.

"Jim," she looked at him, taking in the t-shirt, the traces of stubble and finally his eyes, fixed on her.

"Pam," he said, sobering up a little, grin still in place.

"I think… I kissed you?" she forced herself to keep on looking at him, even though she felt heat up her cheeks. He, on the other hand, looked at his knees, his hand messing with his hair.

"Yeah, you kinda did."

It hadn't been a fantasy, then. The feeling of his lips on her, and her body pressed against his, even if it was so brief and rushed.

"You were feeling pretty celebratory, I guess." He added, finally meeting her eyes.

"I was," she nodded. "Also…" she took a deep breath, "also I've wanted to do that for a while. Kiss you."

His eyes opened wide, "did you?"

"Yeah…" she was leaning towards him, and he was mirroring her. She felt his hand on her knee, her own clutching his t-shirt, and then.

"Wait, Pam."

"What," his mouth was so close to hers she couldn't really focus on what he was saying.

"Wait." His hand cupped her cheek, but instead of drawing her closer, he kept her at a distance. A very small distance and yet she felt as if ice cold water was being poured on her head. Jim was rejecting her.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't-" she stuttered, realization making her want to run away. To hide her shame and bury it deep, along with her feelings. But his hand was still there, a finger tracing small circles on her cheek, and she dared looking at his eyes. They were warm and dark. Looking at her with such care, making it felt so familiar and… right.

"Yes you should," he said softly. "I've wanted you to do this for so long, Pam; I don't remember a moment of my life in which I wasn't wishing to kiss you."

"Really? Then…"

"Not like this, though. Not drunk. I want us to be sober. I want you to kiss me and remember it, and not regret it in the morning. You know?"

She nodded, feeling tears forming in the corners of her eyes, but she didn't dare to clean them. She didn't dare to move her hands.

"Oh Pam," he murmured, now finally pulling her towards him, but instead of kissing him, she found herself buried in a warm hug, her nose taking his scent while his hand rubbed her back in slow circles. She sighed, and even though she had just been rejected, there was some odd, small feeling of contentment in her chest.

"Can I stay here?" she finally asked in a hoarse whisper. "With you?"

"For as long as you want," she felt his chest rumble, and sighed again.

The next thing Pam knew, light was hitting her eyes and she was half sitting, half lying on an unfamiliar couch. Her head resting on a very familiar someone.

She sat up, slowly, a pulsing in her head as a reminder that mixing tequila and beer was never a good idea. Next to her, Jim stirred and opened his eyes.

"He-ey," he said softly.

"Hi," she looked at her feet. She had discarded her shoes at some point, but couldn't tell when. And then she looked at her hands. At his long legs stretched in front of him. At the empty glasses on the coffee table. But not at his eyes. She couldn't look at him in the eye.

"How's that hangover?"

She shrugged. "Not that bad."

"I didn't know if I should have woken you up."

"It's fine." her gaze stopped on his knees for a moment, and then his t-shirt, and then the ceiling. "I'm sorry I fell asleep like this."

"It's ok. Nothing to be sorry about." He sounded earnest and maybe she could look at him, but she was so afraid of… of what, really? Her own shame?

"I guess I was too tired."

"Yeah…" he said, and she saw him shift on his seat to face her. "Hey. Is it going to be awkward between us now?"

Finally she dared meet his eyes, and they were so familiar and warm, so typically Jim's, she couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh yeah. Totally. I might not even say hello to you at the office."

"Good to know in advance, I guess."

"Yeah…"

"So…" slowly, he stood up. "Water? Aspirine? Grilled cheese?"

She smiled, a little less enthusiastically. Suddenly it felt as if she was carrying the weight of the world of her shoulders, and it was her fault and nobody else's. As it was her task to fix it all.

"I should go."

"You could stay," he replied.

"Thanks," she managed. "But I just remembered there's something I need to do."

He seemed to shrink a little. "That's what they all say after one night," he smiled the same smile he would use when planning a prank on Dwight.

She gave a small laugh but didn't answer. She didn't really know how to say everything she would need to say eventually.

"See you soon?" she offered instead.

"You know where my desk is."

"I hope I'll remember it," she tried to sound casual. As if this was just their usual banter over a container full of jelly beans.

"You need a ride home?" he asked the obvious.

"Would you?"

"Jump in, Beesly."

The ride felt uncomfortable, both taking turns to avoid the silence. People at the office, the weather, sports. Anything but them and the Dundies. Fortunately they reached her place quickly.

Roy's truck was parked next to the door. Pam wondered if he would be awake, and guessed he most likely wasn't. For better or worse.

"Pam?" Jim spoke after turning off the engine. "You gonna be ok?"

She nodded. It would be difficult, but Jim didn't need to know that.

"I will," she added. "Thanks for the ride and for… you know. Everything."

"Anytime," he gave her half a smile.

She stepped outside and was about to head to the door when suddenly she tapped his window.

"Yeah?" He opened it and leaned towards her.

"I think you should know… I remember everything that happened at your apartment."

He looked at her for a moment. "That's good to know."

"It is. Bye, Jim."