A/N: Chapter title borrowed from the Jewel song "Standing Still". Enjoy!!

Pam felt her foot like lead on the accelerator as she sped down the highway. As her car merged with i-81N, she could hear her heart pounding in her ears and had to squeeze the steering wheel until her knuckles were white to keep them from shaking. Her entire body vibrated; she was in no condition to drive like this, but as she flew past the highway signage, her thoughts were centered and focused on one thing – getting to the church in Pottsville ("What the hell is in Pottsville?" she'd ask herself out loud more than once on the hour-long drive to the small town she'd only ever seen as a dot on the map, almost exactly halfway between Scranton and Harrisburg).

The sun was lightening the sky in the east; it was just past 7:00. Pam remembered her painting, the one she'd been making for Jim and which was sitting behind her television at home as she spoke, and felt herself starting to cry for the hundredth time in the twenty minutes she'd been behind the wheel. She had been stupid. She had left Jim to figure herself out and had left him hanging for too long. What had she honestly expected? Her actions had been meant to help solve their problems; instead, she had driven him into the arms of another woman. And it had been her fault! If only she'd explained, telephoned… something, anything would have been better than leaving their relationship to fate!

Now, she was paying for it. She floored it, watching as the city gave way to suburbs and then to open fields and rolling hills. No matter how fast she drove, she couldn't go fast enough; Pam felt as if she were the one encased in Jell-O instead of Dwight's stapler. It made her think of Jim, and she cried again.

Eventually, she saw her exit. She slowed down enough to take the ramp safely and pulled off the interstate, eventually finding herself on the narrow and cozy streets of a town that could have been any town in America, but which was all the more important because it was the town in which Jim had decided to marry Karen. Pam had no idea why – perhaps Karen had family there. Maybe Jim did. There was a lot she didn't know about him, she realized. But I would have learned.

She had an address – Dwight had provided that over the phone – and as she scanned street signs and examined landmarks, she felt more tears, realizing that time was ticking and she wasn't any closer to finding her way. She briefly considered calling Dwight and begging him to help her find it, and as she struggled to compose herself for the phone call, she saw a spire rising high above the tree tops, impossibly white in the early morning sun. She rubbed her eyes and brushed the tears away and turned onto the street towards the church.

--

"Come on… COME ON!" Jim hollered, even though he knew it would make no difference, that it wouldn't part the shining silver sea of car rooftops in front of him, glimmering in the early morning sunshine. It was quarter to seven, the sun wasn't even up yet, and there was a water main break which was causing traffic to back up way longer than normal. He scanned the side roads up ahead, looking for somewhere to turn, some other way to get to the i-81.

He tapped his long, impatient fingers on the steering wheel, focusing his eyes on the license plate of the car in front of him until his vision blurred and he realized he was crying. He blinked tears away and slowly depressed the accelerator to inch the car forward a few car lengths before he had to stop again.

"And who is she marrying anyway?!" he cried at the windshield. The woman in the car next to him avoided his eyes when he glanced over at her. An embarrassed Jim sank a little lower in his seat and continued to wait himself into insanity.

Dwight's call had sent him into a panic. He knew he had messed up, but he didn't think it would be enough to make Pam think of marrying someone else. His stomach churned; he'd forgotten to eat breakfast. But he couldn't think of anything else except getting to the church and stopping the proceedings. Even if he couldn't convince her, Jim knew he hadn't done enough, hadn't tried, and he had to pull all the stops now to show her that it was real, that he was ready, that she was the one. If she still chose someone else over him, there wasn't much he could do – it wouldn't have been the first time he would let her go – but at least he would have known that he'd done all he could on that day.

Pottsville. What the hell is in Pottsville? Jim wondered. So many things did not make sense; he hoped Dwight was wrong, that he'd gotten his information mixed up. He couldn't imagine the Pam he knew eloping with out warning with her pre-Roy high school boyfriend. Jim had heard all about the guy, was well aware that he was Pam's first love. But as far she'd told him, Pam hadn't seen the guy since that impromptu five year reunion a few years ago when she'd gone to Atlantic City for the weekend with half her graduating class and Michael thought she'd quit and had started looking for her replacement. That was already almost five years ago. Pam was so… sensible. So thorough. It didn't make sense.

Maybe that's why she hasn't called… Jim thought ruefully. It wasn't impossible. Highly improbable, but not impossible.

But Jim wasn't leaving anything to chance. Even if he was wildly off base, he had to go. Enough was enough. He would go to Pottsville, and he would find the church, and he'd make more noise and create a bigger commotion than even Ben Braddock could handle. Because it was Pam, and he'd been a fool, and she needed to know that if nothing else. Only a small part of him cared that it was her wedding day; the rest of him wanted to desperately believe that she couldn't honestly marry anyone else but him.

Finally, he spotted a stretch of open road up ahead, signaling that the construction zone was ending. It wouldn't be long, he knew, and he'd be on the highway, jetting through townships and entire counties, flying across the space and distance separating them. It wouldn't be long, but it couldn't be fast enough.

--

Pam parked her car in front of the church, glancing at her clock, which blinked out 8:00. She'd made it to the church – it was the right one, she knew – but she wondered if she'd made it on time. No cars in the parking lot, no people on the steps. Perhaps they hadn't invited anyone, but when Dwight had said it was going to be a quick ceremony, Pam still imagined that there would be guests. She let herself imagine for a scant second that either Dwight was horribly mistaken, or that maybe she had beat them there and she could still stop this thing from happening. It was the weirdest wedding she would ever attend – she'd never heard of a pastor agreeing to marry a couple before breakfast on a Wednesday! – but Dwight said it was important that they did it right away. Maybe that's what Jim needed to tell her: he was marrying Karen because she was pregnant. Pam knew she was torturing herself, and more unself-conscious tears streamed down her cheeks as her stomach fell out and she wished she hadn't been so stupid.

Pam rested her head against the cool leather of the steering wheel and sobbed. She waited, for a sign that someone was there, or for Jim and Karen to pull up outside the church, smiling and happy… Stop it, she ordered herself. You're not making this easier! She had begun to panic, worried that she'd missed them, and decided to step out of her car and run up the steps and into the church, because then at least she'd know.

She realized she was wearing the dress. The yellow one, from Halifax. It had been an accident, a coincidence, since this was the dress she had worn the day before when she'd gone out for lunch with her mom and it was the first thing she had found on the chair by the bed when she ran out that morning. She smoothed it out against her legs and cursed her winter weight for making her belly stick out just a little more than it had when she first wore the dress. It still looked good; she wondered if Jim would notice.

Not if he's standing next to his pregnant wife, she said. She wanted to kick her own ass; what if it was too late?

She locked the door and ran across the tree-lined street and up across the lawn in front of the church. The doors were open, and she stepped inside, shivering because she forgot a jacket and it was only April, after all.

No one met her at the door. There were no crowds, no people. No happy, smiling newlyweds or a bemused pastor. Her heart thudded against her ribcage. Where are all the people? Where's the bride? Where's Jim?

She heard the sound of a vacuum running, and she followed it into the nave. A cleaning lady in a blue apron stood bent over the carpet running up the center aisle, pushing a grey vacuum over and over the worn floor covering. Pam thought it was strange, somewhat anachronistic or something, to see such a modern object in such a beautiful and historic place. The vaulted ceiling reached up above her head, and stained glass windows lined the walls. From behind her, the sunlight shone in and illuminated the pews in bright blues and purples and yellows. She choked back a sob as she thought about a wedding – any wedding – taking place in such a beautiful setting.

"Excuse me, miss?" the lady startled her as she yelled over the hum of the vacuum. "Can I help you?"

Pam nodded. "Can you tell me… is there a wedding here today?"

The woman flicked off the vacuum and indicated that she hadn't heard the question. Pam repeated it, and the other woman just stood there, smiling warmly, "Today is Wednesday, dear."

"I know that," Pam nodded briskly, "But is there a wedding today?"

"Not that I am aware of," the woman said.

"This has to be the right church…," Pam muttered. "Are there any other churches on this street?"

"We're the only one," the woman replied. "Are you okay?"

Pam nodded, but she knew she was lying. No wedding… what in the hell…? The woman was still smiling. "Stay as long as you'd like. I won't bother you."

And with that, she picked up her vacuum and left out the same door through which Pam had entered. Pam sank into the pew at the back, her eyes moist. Does nothing make sense anymore? She thought as she rested her head against her folded arms on the back of the pew in front of her. All I wanted was to see him… .

No more than five minutes passed before she stood up and wiped her eyes, resolving to wait until she heard from Jim, or Dwight, or something happened to make her leave. With great weariness, Pam turned on the heel of her little white sneakers and walked back out of the nave, into the foyer, and out onto the step where she felt the rays of the sun falling upon her exposed shoulders like warmed butter, dripping down her arms. She had made Jim wait; now it was her turn.

--

Jim arrived in Pottsville in record time, slamming on the brakes as he entered town limits where the speed limit dropped dramatically. Still, he cruised along ten miles over the speed limit when there were no cars around. He had to get to Pam. He ran over again what he was going to say to her when he saw her.

Dwight's directions reverberated in his head. "Turn right at the second stop sign" or "Take the first left after the gnarled oak tree in front of the post office". Or something like that. He really didn't know what Dwight had said for directions, but he could hear his voice rattling off commands like an army drill sergeant as he drove the tree-lined streets with the church address in hand. The car was stiflingly hot; he rolled his window down, enjoying the crisp April morning air as it prickled his skin and made his breath catch in his throat.

He caught a glimpse of the church steeple rising above the green trees up ahead of him. That must be it, he said, torn between speeding towards the parking lot or slowing down to avoid the parked cars on either side of him.

In the end, he pulled off the road and watched the church through the windows of his idling car. He was struck by the lack of fanfare – surely they had invited guests. The terrifying thought that he might be late struck him and he glanced at his clock. Dwight had said the ceremony would be early, before 9. It was 8:10 am. People would be starting to show up; as Jim exited his car, he practiced his speech. I'm yours, Pam, body and soul… I made mistakes, but I'm human, and I'll beg for forgiveness and I'll wait forever to get you back… it won't be easy, but nothing ever really is… if you have to marry him, then fine, I won't stand in your way but I won't pretend that it's okay because I was a fool and I let you walk out of my life, and I'll regret it until the day I die… Why? Because I'm the man who loves you… I always have been… .

He felt tears, again, and looked up to blink them away. That's when he saw it, a flash of yellow through blurred half-closed eyelids. There was someone standing on the church steps. He blinked his disbelieving eyes. The figure sat down on the stone steps and rested her head on her knees. He knew it was a her because he would have known Her anywhere. There was no one else around; he gave himself space to hope for a second that maybe he was wrong, that Dwight was wrong, and wondered if he could be that lucky.

He sped up, half-running, half-walking the strides in between the sidewalk and where she perched, stopping a few feet away because she had lifted her head and he wanted her to see him. He stood on the level ground, looking at her at eye-level because he was so tall. She was crying, tiny sobs that wracked her body and made her shoulders shiver. Jim wasn't immune; he felt a lump in his throat, too.

When her eyes met his, he tried to smile but his tears broke out of their cages and spilled down his cheeks, so he cast his eyes down so she wouldn't see and brought a hand up to brush the evidence away. He was aware of her standing up, could hear the rustle of her dress, the one he'd bought for her, so long ago. Then he felt her fingertips resting on his wrist, warm despite the cold, and he thanked the sun for its warmth. She slipped her hand into his – her left hand, unadorned and blissfully naked, with no ring to cloud his judgment and break his heart – and she squeezed, and he knew. He just knew.