Dislcaimer: I do not own The Office. I don't know who does, but it is not me.
This is my first Office fic. It is 2:32 in the morning. I do not know if this fic is especially good, just please don't be too harsh if it's especially bad. I just think there needed to be more Office fics. Especially Pam/Jim. They are meant to be together! It is written in the stars!
Ten yards.
It has never seemed quite so short. Calling up a lesson from her elementary school days, Pam remembers that the ten yards is also thirty feet. And it seems a little longer that way, and she finds herself almost able to breathe.
Go on. Walk. Step. Step. Everybody's watching.
But she can't quite make her feet listen until her mother totters out in high heels, eyes clouded with worry. She takes her daughter's hand. "Come on, Pam," she orders, "You need to get going. Everybody's waiting."
But Pam cannot bring herself to speak, and only nods her head. Her veil dips into her bouquet and becomes momentarily tangled. Her hands tremble and her jaw shakes as she untangles it, before turning again to face the sea of faces. "Go, on, sweetheart," her mom whispers, before giving her a gentle nudge. It isn't much, but enough to send her tripping onto the aisle.
And now there must be less than ten yards. Nine at the most. Twenty-seven feet.
A long, straight nine yards right down the center of the church. Roy stood at the front, looking, if not exactly handsome in his elegant black suit, then certainly better than he normally did in sweats and a T-shirt. And he wasn't smiling either.
From looking at the bride and groom, you might have supposed it was a funeral.
Eight yards.
Eight yards and no way out. No way no way no way, she was caught, trapped in the net of life and she would never get out, never never never.
She had not realized until that moment that she had never truly believed she would walk down the aisle. Not now. And not to him.
She does not realize she is crying until the flash from the photographer creates rainbows of her tears, delicate prisms of misery clinging to her eyelashes.
Seven yards.
And it's really happening. Jim did not tell her right before leaving just how much he loved her, and how he couldn't live with himself if he let her many Roy. He did not return from his trip the night before the wedding. He didn't come to her, jet-lagged (and preferably, in her most fantastic dreams, wet from running through the rainy streets to reach her), the night before the wedding and beg her to call it off.
Six yards.
And, looking through her tears at the blurry faces in the pews, he is not going to burst into the aisle just before her "I do" and kiss her for everyone to see. When the minister offers, he will not be raising any objections.
Out of all the many scenarios she's considered, this is the only one she isn't prepared to face.
Five yards.
Because hasn't Jim always been her Fairytale Prince? Her Knight-In-Shining-Armor?
Doesn't he know how the story is supposed to end?
Four yards.
Why are her feet still moving?
Three yards.
She chokes back a sob as her father takes her arm. Sobbing on the way to the alter. Barely away of the muted whispering. Leans on him, begging him to intervene. Don't give me away. I don't want to be his. I don't want him.
Her father kisses her cheek and hands her off to Roy, who looks at her warily.
Two yards.
She wants to scream and hit him and rub her bouquet in his stupid self-centered face.
One yard.
Oh God. It's really happening. Pam is afraid she will pass out…but really anything anything anything is better than this. She can't do this. She can't don't make her please Jim this is your last chance come on save me please help I need you. I love you.
Oh, God, Jim, I love you so much.
And no more time left.
"I do."
And this is the beginning of the end of her life.