A/N: For inquiring minds – the scary age involves the number 30 (plus a couple extra.)

Hmmm. I gotta tell ya. I'm really not sure where I'm going with this. I'm just going to keep writing it as it comes.

Chapter Two

The days are long, the nights torturous. Jim keeps thinking it's got to get easier but it simply…doesn't. He knows now, just like he had when he'd gone to Australia there is no place far enough to make him forget her.

He wishes things were different. He wishes she'd just told him the minute her engagement ended. If she had he has no doubt they'd be together right now.

He sighs as he lets himself wallow in memories for a bit. Maybe he'd have been better off never saying anything. But he's pretty sure if he hadn't - she'd have ended up marrying Roy.

If there was anything he knew for sure, it was that Roy was completely wrong for her. And Jim can't help but think, even if she didn't think he was right, at least his declaration had accomplished that much.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

Pam sits in the conference room, her arms crossed in front of her chest. For the millionth time since he left, she's silently cursing Jim for leaving her here all alone.

It's not just that he's not here with her. She knows that they were never actually a couple. That's not even what she misses most. It's the way he always took the time to listen to her - no matter what the subject. It's the way he kept her entertained eight hours a day.

Without him, it's simply unbearable - for more reasons than one.

She's so angry with him. For so many things. How could he not even try to reach out to her? He's the one who's gone, she's still right where he left her.

The only thing she knows for sure is this. Even if his feelings for her have changed he was still her best friend and that was not something easily replaceable.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

Jim hits the delete key again. It's been more than two weeks since his legendary misdialing and he still can't get her off his mind.

Not that this fact makes this day any different. He pretty much thinks about her a good portion of the time anyway.

His fingers hang over the keyboard and he's silently willing himself to not care that he had been waiting for her to make the first move. C'mon. He scolds himself. Just have the balls to send it.

Rubbing his hands over his eyes in frustration, he sits up in his chair again and begins to type.

Pam –

I hate that this is so damn awkward. I hate that I can't even send you an email without analyzing every freaking syllable. So – if any of this sounds weird…or…like something Michael would say then please accept my apologies in advance.

This new job is freaking me out. Someone here called me Mr. Halpert yesterday and I actually looked around to see if my Dad was standing behind me. What the hell does that mean? Do I have an actual career now? And does it really involve selling paper?

If so, how sad is that?

This place is much different. We actually work here, well…most of the time. And I can't help but miss those days that Michael would get some insane idea and take us all along for the ride.

Wow. That is even sadder. Can it be that I actually miss him too?

I guess I really wanted to say that it was great to hear your voice the other day. Even if it only was for a second. I've gotta say, I've missed it.

Actually, I should get to the point. If I'm being honest, I've just missed you.

I sit at my desk and look up sometimes and I'm severely disappointed because all I can see is my office door.


Oh yeah. It's true. I have a real office. With a door. And I'm begging you. PLEASE tell Dwight. You know how it'll drive him crazy. I love that I might still be able to do that via remote.

(Speaking of Amish Beet Farmers - Did one you know happen to recently start receiving a certain magazine at work?)

I just want to say that no matter what has happened, or really - what hasn't – the next time I call the office I think it might be nice to just talk to you for a bit. I mean…if you even want to or…if you wouldn't mind.

Stamford may only be about a hundred miles away from Scranton but not talking to you makes it seem a million times further.

Jim

He reads it over once, twice, oh maybe twenty or so times. Finally his finger hovers over his mouse and he shuts his eyes tightly. He takes a deep breath and clicks send.

There. It's done. He thinks with a sigh.

Now it's her turn.

Again.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

There's a little chime that comes through Pam's speakers signaling that she has mail. Rolling her eyes, thinking it's an inane email from Michael, she minimizes her Sudoku puzzle. It's when she sees who it's actually from that her heart stops.

To: Pam Beesly

From: Jim Halpert

Re: This sucks.

With watery eyes she reads his words and tries to take them for what she thinks they are - an attempt to keep things civil between them. It's what he doesn't say that she really notices.

Not once did he mention the fact that he's supposedly in love with her.

She shouldn't be surprised. She's never had the guts to say those words herself.

She had always thought that he already knew. Even if she never actually told him.

She ponders just deleting the message but she can't do it. For all intents and purposes, they are adults after all. Adults who met while working at an office that runs more like a kindergarten but who's keeping score?

Pam's suddenly ashamed to realize she's been acting like a love struck teenager. Jim said he loved her but apparently he's over it. And on a good day she thinks she would have ended things with Roy anyway. She half believes it, but at the moment she's beyond caring that she might be lying to herself.

Things happen. Life goes on. It's time she acted like a grown up.

Jim writes like he talks, she sighs and her mouth forms into a smile. It's something she's forgotten since he left. She can practically see his facial expressions in her mind when he tells her about his new office and talks about Dwight and Michael. Her fingers shake but she can't help herself from hitting the reply button. She takes a deep breath and writes the first thing that comes to her mind.

Dear Jim –

I think it's only fair to let you know that Dwight has built a kind of shrine to you. It's almost sweet, really. He's got a little collection of things you left in your desk perched on a shelf.

He lovingly dusts it twice a week.

I, on the other hand haven't even really noticed you're gone. Ryan sits at your desk now and I swear for the first few weeks I simply thought you shrunk. But then I noticed he only eats the orange jellybeans every time he comes up to my desk and I remembered how much you hate them.

That and the jellybeans are right at his eye level.

Oh alright. I'll admit it. I miss you too.

The fact that you aren't here does suck. And the fact that we haven't talked sucks even more. This seems so weird to even be…typing…but you're right. It's been way too long so here goes…

I'm not going to pretend you don't know by now that I called off the wedding. Roy took it badly, as you can probably imagine. For a while he kept trying to do things to get me to reconsider but I finally got him to listen. It's not what I want anymore.

He's not what I want anymore, she thinks as she closes her eyes. What I want is you. She wants to type the words but she can't make herself do it. Not yet. She's too scared of what that might mean, of putting herself out there like that. She wishes she had more courage but writing just this much is taking all she has right now. She sighs a bit as she continues on, trying to keep things light.

And also, if I went through with it? My name becoming Pamela Anderson? C'mon. How could I possibly have done that to myself?

Let's see. What else is new? Oh. I started taking an art class once a week and I love it. I missed the summer internship but Jan called and mentioned another one that starts in October. I'm definitely considering it.

I mean you've totally got me thinking. If you got yourself an office just by moving two states away, what could be waiting for me? The luxury of only having to answer my own phone calls?

It's the little things, Jim.

She takes a deep breath, not quite as brave as she's pretending to be. She bites her bottom lip as she writes this next.

Talking would be great…but…maybe we could just write back and forth for a bit instead? I don't know. I think it might be easier. I'd hate for us to have to sit through some uncomfortable silence or God forbid risk the chance of Dwight trying to listen in.

I don't know…it's just a thought.

Have a good day, Mr. Halpert. (Oh. Jim. That wasn't for you. Could you please give your Dad a message for me? Thanks.)

Pam

PS: OMG! Re: Dwight. YES! I took one look at that magazine and thought you were behind it. You are a sick, sick man. Brilliant - but sick.

PPS: You? Sounding like Michael? Bite your tongue.

Before she can chicken out she reaches for her mouse.

There. It's done. She thinks as she hits send.

Now it's his turn.

Again.