Author notes: Wow, sorry this has taken such an incredibly long time. I had horrible writer's block. I've had the basic idea of what I wanted to be accomplished by the end of this chapter since mid-March, but that was about all I had.

There will probably only be two or so more chapters to this story before it's completed. It has gone in almost a completely different direction from how I had originally planned. I suppose next time I should have an outline or something : )

Title inspired by 'Boston' by Augustana.

Summary: The threat of a tornado drives the Dunder-Mifflin crew into the warehouse. Ryan realizes something. Jim tries to get Pam to realize something. Kelly is clueless. Mainly Jim/Pam and Ryan/Kelly centered. Basically just my excuse to get everyone alone in the dark, har har.


Tired of the Weather or Maybe I'm just Tired

Jim leaned back in his chair and stretched luxuriously, reveling in the fact that he had a mere thirty minutes until he could grab his bag, head home, and never look back. Until tomorrow, that is. But he only had a week before he would be leaving for his trip and he had taken to obsessively looking at the clock and figuring out what time it was in Australia. It's four thirty here, he thought, so that means it's six thirty tomorrow morning there.

He swiveled idly in his chair, glancing out the window at the blackening sky and thought it strange for it to be so dark at only four thirty. On closer inspection he saw that it wasn't so much black as it was a dark, sickly shade of green. He stood and peered outside, noticing that it was a sight windier than it had been an hour ago. The trees were blowing about wildly, and he half expected to see the wicked witch pass by on a bicycle.

Glancing once more over his shoulder at the ominous weather, he turned and went to reception.

"What's up with that?" he asked Pam upon reaching her, leaning against the desk and nodding his head in the direction of the window. "Doesn't look too promising."

She stood and looked around him. "Yikes," she said nervously, "When did that all start? Last time I checked it was sunny and blue, not a cloud in the sky."

"I don't know, I just now noticed it. Check the weather report."

She sat down and stared at the computer screen as the page loaded, "Hmmm, severe weather statement for Scranton, Pennsylvania," she paused, reading farther down the page, "Tornado watch. What's that one again? I always get watches and warnings confused."

"I think warning means that one has been spotted. Watch just means that conditions are favorable."

She grinned at him. "Okay, Mr. Egghead. You could give Chet Montgomery a run for his money."

He gasped, feigning shock. "How did you know that my secret ambition is to be pretty boy weatherman for a local news station!" she giggled and brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"Oh, so pretty boy salesman for a paper company is better?" He looked at her strangely for a moment, his head turned to the side, and she blushed. She opened her mouth to say something, but he was quick to stifle her.

"You're right, pretty boy weatherman is much better. Just think, I'd be like a celebrity,"

She smirked at him. "Yeah, but then you wouldn't be able to hang out with cool people like me."

"That's right. I'd be able to hang out with people cooler than you."

She was ready with a witty retort, but Michael suddenly burst out of his office. To say that he looked nervous was an understatement. He looked downright frantic.

"Listen up, everyone. We have a slight problem. Scratch that. We have a major problem," he ran his hand through his hair and Dwight leapt up suddenly, standing dutifully beside Michael with his hands on his hips.

"There's a tornado watch," he continued, "Big storm on the way, and we're all going to go down to the warehouse. It's the safest place to be."

Jim glanced at the clock. It was past four thirty. "Uh, are you sure Michael? It's almost quitting time. What if we just went home?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Jim," Dwight interjected, "Can you outrun a tornado?" Jim opened his mouth to speak, but Dwight cut him off. "No, you can't, so unless you want to die—unless you all want to die—I suggest you head down to the warehouse immediately!" his voice had risen steadily as he had been speaking, and by the time he finished he was practically shouting at the assembled group.

Everyone groaned, and began filing out the door.

Jim waited for Pam as she grabbed her bag. He watched her and was suddenly glad that things were playful and light-hearted between them once again. He couldn't have been more relieved. Yet despite everything being back to the so-called norm, he could still sense all that had happened in the last few months lurking in the back of his mind. But he had a horrible habit of ignoring the things that were bothering him, so it was possible (not) for him to forget their kiss and all the awkwardness that ensued because of it. It's nothing, he thought to himself. It's done and over with. He nodded his head absently. Yes, he decided. I'm over it. I'm over her.

He was leaving. She was getting married. End of story.

She spoke suddenly and he practically jumped, startled out of his thoughts.

"Did you ever see that movie Twister?" she slung her bag over her shoulder and they headed out the door.

The elevator dinged, and they stepped inside. "Yeah," he replied, "It was craptastic." He said it so seriously, without a hint of a grin on his face, that she couldn't help giggling.

"What was it again?" she asked him, and he rolled his eyes at her.

"It was a major crapfest," she laughed aloud this time.

"Great vocabulary you've got there, Halpert. But yeah, anyway, remember that one part where that guy gets sliced in the head? That was pretty nasty."

He shook his head. "Yeah, Pam, it was nasty, but remember that he got sliced in the head while hiding in a metal building full of sharp, metal objects? Honestly, I would have risked it out in my car." The doors slid open and he waited as she stepped out, following behind her.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs they passed Ryan, heading back up. Jim eyed him curiously and was about to ask if he was heading out, when Michael suddenly emitted what could only be described as a girlish squeal. Ryan stopped dead in his tracks, and Jim tugged at Pam's sleeve.

"Watch this," he muttered under his breath.

"Ryan, where are you going?" Michael began to walk towards him, and Ryan took a slow step back.

"I'm going to head home," he replied nonchalantly.

"Uh, Ryan. You can't. It's too dangerous." Pam held a hand to her mouth, trying to suppress a giggle.

"I'll take my chances," Ryan stated matter-of-factly, as he turned towards the stairs.

"Ryan NO!" Michael nearly screamed and ran to him full speed. He dove to the ground and threw his arms around Ryan's ankles. "It's a suicide mission!"

Pam lost it. She gripped Jim's arm for support, and as she doubled over in laughter he smiled to himself, feeling slightly punch-drunk. But he was quick to shake his head, brushing those thoughts aside. He didn't think about those things anymore.

Instead, he watched as Ryan swayed, but caught his balance. He tried unsuccessfully to disentangle himself from Michael's death grip.

"I'll be fine," he said through gritted teeth. Michael tightened his hold on Ryan's legs.

"As your boss I am demanding that you stay with me—uh…here. Um, I demand that you stay here…with us," he let go of Ryan and stood up, brushing himself off absently. "Mandatory, Ryan, okay? You can't leave."

Pam's hand was still on Jim's arm, and he noticed that she let it linger there a little longer than necessary. She must have read his mind, because she suddenly yanked it away and let it fall unceremoniously to her side.

He cleared his throat. "So," he began, "Where's Roy?" He looked around the warehouse for Roy's hulking figure, but couldn't spot him anywhere.

"It's his brother's birthday," she replied, "He's out of town."

Jim thought this was a very lucky, albeit slightly odd coincidence that Roy was not around on the one day they get to hang around outside of work. Well, kind of outside of work. He was free to spend time with Pam and not have to worry about Roy putting a damper on things. Of course, the looming tornado would probably do that, but Jim was not very preoccupied with that thought. Dangerous natural disasters that had the potential to devastate ranked far below hanging out with Pam.

--------

Ryan was afraid that he would forever spend his life with someone watching his every move. Earlier, this fear had been confirmed when Michael had practically bullrushed him, and now it was especially obvious as he stood talking to Toby. He was painfully aware of Kelly's beady eyes boring a hole into the back of his head. Not particularly interested in what Toby was saying, but keen to not have to face Kelly for the entire night, Ryan stood rooted to the spot and refused to turn around.

"Pre-nuptials, Ryan, that's what I'm saying. If you ever get married—"

"Ryan doesn't see himself ever getting married," Kelly interrupted, her voice shrill.

Toby coughed awkwardly. "Er…"

Ryan could tell he was backing away, and he silently pleaded with him to stay. Toby just grinned sheepishly and darted around the corner, leaving Ryan alone with Kelly.

He groaned and threw his head back, but Kelly--ever the oblivious one--simply smiled and batted her eyelashes in what, he figured, she thought was a seductive way. It might have been if they hadn't been so goopy from mascara and if well, to be frank, she wasn't herself.

"So anyway, I dropped the no carbs thing, that totally didn't work. And god, I mean I love Dr. Phil, but his son's diet book was just—well, it didn't work either. So now I'm on this new thing—"

In a desperate attempt to get her to stop talking he said, "Kelly, you don't need to diet."

And the second the words left his mouth he realized what a mistake they were.

Her eyes suddenly widened and got fairly misty as she choked, "Oh. My. God. Ryan!"

It was going to be a long night.

--------

"This is just great," Dwight said, pacing. "Aside from the obvious danger from the impending storm, I was supposed to have a date tonight."

He looked expectantly around the room. No one paid him any attention. He cleared his throat and groaned noisily, "Well this is swell," his voice was unnaturally loud, "I have a date tonight!"

Jim rolled his eyes and looked up from where he sat on the floor with Pam.

"No. You don't."

"Uh, I think I do," Dwight retorted.

"Uh, I think you don't."

"Do too!" Dwight insisted.

Jim suddenly nodded his head, a false look of comprehension coming across his face, "Oh, sorry. My bad. Have fun with your mom!"

"You stop it, Jim, you stop it right now, or I'll…I'll—"

"St-st-stutter at me?" Jim offered, and Pam snorted. Dwight glared at him, and Jim was sure his head would explode. Much to his disappointment, it didn't, and Dwight stalked off in the opposite direction.

"That was kind of mean," Pam said, when Dwight had turned the corner.

"What? Pam, are you going soft on me?"

"No!" she protested, "Not it's just it's kind of sweet—oh, look!" she pointed to some shelves across the room where Dwight could visibly be seen talking to Angela in hushed tones. He leaned forward and Jim grimaced.

"Oh god," Pam shuddered, "I'm sorry, I take it back. Forget I ever said anything."

"That is really twisted—oh, god, look away!" he buried his head in his arms.

--------

The storm outside was raging. There was clap of thunder, a brilliant flash of lightning, and the lights flickered, then suddenly went out. The warehouse was completely dark, and someone (Kelly) screamed. Everyone fished around for their cell phones, and the room was suddenly aglow with a bunch of tiny, star-like lights.

"Oh my god," Kelly whispered to Ryan. "This is scary. This is like really scary."

"It's fine," he said exasperatingly. "We're fine."

"We could die," she squeaked. "This could be the last night we're alive." He contemplated the possibility of smacking her. Maybe in the cover of darkness he could blame it on someone else.

"Would you relax? It's a thunder storm, not the apocalypse for crying out loud."

Her was voice low. "What if we die tonight?"

"We're not going to—" but Kelly wasn't interested in what they weren't going to do.

She rushed at him, throwing her arms around his neck, and kissed him. He sighed against her, irritated. She mistook his annoyance for passion, and kissed him harder.

It was a mere twelve seconds before he gave in and kissed her back. After all, she was a girl. It was dark. And it had been a while.

Yeah, he convinced himself. That's it.

--------

As they were suddenly pitched into darkness, Jim heard a woman scream. Next to him, Pam jumped slightly, and he was proud of her for not being such a—well, a girl, and shrieking. He didn't care much for damsels in distress.

He dug out his cell phone, and as he flipped it open it illuminated their faces. He liked looking at her in the darkness.

"Well this is convenient," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

He smirked. "Pretty romantic though, right? I'm sure Dwight and Angela are off making out in a corner somewhere."

Pam shuddered. "Seriously, Jim, I had just gotten that visual out of my head."

They laughed and then fell silent. The warehouse was eerily quiet. The darkness seemed to have given everyone the impression that they had to talk in whispers, so all that could be heard were hushed voices, with the occasional shrill sound of laughter slicing the air.

"You want to play truth or dare?" Pam asked him suddenly.

"Oh right, I forgot we're thirteen."

She made a face at him. "Yeesh, sorry. I'm bored, I was only trying to think of something to do."

"We could talk about things. Art. Politics. Current events—"

"Ooh! When do you think was the last time Michael had a girlfriend?"

"I said current events, Pam," he shook his head, and paused before asking, "So what does Pam Beesly do for fun?"

She laughed sharply. "Oh. Loads. Yeah, I'm like really, really interesting."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You know, sometimes I do the laundry. Other times I don't. Um. I go to the movies. I read. I—god, I'm really boring."

"Pretty much. But I can only say that because that's exactly what I do, so…"

They fell silent again. Jim suddenly felt depressed so he racked his brain for a new topic of conversation. His cleverness was failing him though. He couldn't think of anything to say.

She sighed, and he leaned against the shelf, his eyes closed.

The warehouse was still, and when she spoke again it was in a soft whisper.

"It feels like we're the only two people in the world," and his eyes snapped open.

His heart pounded.

"Aren't we?" he asked her, his voice quieter than when she had spoken.

But she didn't say anything more, and he sighed dejectedly.

--------

Okay Ryan, he told himself, Don't. Freak. Out. His head was spinning as he kissed Kelly, his hands roaming all over her. He knew this was a mistake. He was certain he would regret it later. But…he couldn't stop.

She's annoying, he thought. She's annoying and stupid, and her voice is like nails on a chalkboard. She's shallow and superficial. She's like a thirteen-year-old girl trapped in the body of a twenty-five year old woman.

But then there were those other times. When it was just the two of them hanging out. She could be funny. She cracked hilarious jokes and was always ready with a witty retort. She could be insightful. Sometimes they actually had meaningful conversations. And she liked the Eagles. He had been shocked into silence when she had told him that. She had finished up by adding something about football players and tight pants, but the point was that she liked the same team he did.

So maybe he didn't hate Kelly. Maybe he actually even liked her.

Oh god, he thought. I've got to quit or I'm going to be sucked in.

--------

"Jim?" Pam whispered.

"Hmm?" They had been sitting in silence for almost an hour.

"Are you asleep?" she asked him.

"Yes," he lied, "Sound asleep."

She nudged him playfully. "Come on, seriously."

He sat up straight and stretched his long legs out in front of him. He peered at his phone and saw it was only 7:30. His body was heavy and it felt like it was hours later.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you ever not breathe?"

He sat up straighter. He could see where this is going and it wasn't like Pam to say something so forward, so personal. He hesitated, and she took his silence as a sign to continue talking.

"I don't know. I mean, sometimes I feel like I can't breathe. And I don't mean that metaphorically or anything. I mean like I literally have to stop and catch my breath."

"I don't know," she said again, and her voice was so low he had to lean forward to hear her. "Sometimes I think I'm making the wrong choice."

It was the darkness that was making her speak like this. He knew it. It was the darkness and the storm and the fact that Roy was out of town. It had nothing to do with anything else.

He knew she was waiting for him to say something. An awkward silence settled between them. He said nothing, and the silence continued for several minutes.

"Jim," she pleaded, "Say something."

He knew what she wanted him to say. But he couldn't say it.

"Jim—"

Not couldn't. Wouldn't.

"Pam. I—I can't save you," he whispered so quietly that he wasn't even sure if he had spoken at all. But he heard her inhale sharply, so he knew he had.

Maybe it was the cover of darkness that made him say what he said next. The dark always made things easier. He would never have the courage to talk to her like this in the light of day. Or maybe it was the fact that he was leaving, and she was getting married. Maybe it was one last desperate attempt to get her to understand.

"Listen," he continued. "You have got to get out of here. Okay? You're not meant for Scranton, Pennsylvania and a subpar job. All right? You just—you gotta just say screw this and you have to leave. But I—I can't save you Pam," he said again, his voice firm.

His eyes burned as the lights suddenly came back on. He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the new brightness that filled the room.

Her face was sharp, and her voice cool as she replied, "I didn't ask you to."

And with that she stood and walked briskly to the stairs.