Yeah, well in this chapter there is a really cute flashback and uh...a super dramatic turn when it comes to Jim and Pam. I started out this story as a totally random idea, and I decided to stick with it, so this chapter is about what Pam and Jim decide to do. I really hope you like it. Oh, yeah, and I didn't start this one out with a line from Kelly Kapoor. Haha.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I don't own the characters, the personalities, or Pam's favorite hobby. Nothing. You people should understand that.

Pam sat in the chair, nervously waiting the arrival of Emma Emiliana. She was an elderly woman, around eighty, who had family near Scranton. She was driving through here, and the school paper had begged her to give them an interview.

Emma Emiliana was once a broadway star, years and years ago. The interview was supposed to be given to a senior, but the editor had chosen Pam. She was one of the best writers, even though she was only in tenth grade. Emma had quite a story to tell, and Pam was the one who could best describe it in a way that would entertain the students. She had a way with words.

Picking up a sketchbook, she began fiddling with the pencil and started to draw the fish tank that sat in one of the small rooms that were connected to the bull pen. She began to shade the shadow, then paused to fix her clownfish. She pulled her wrist in front of her face. 4:23. Emma had seven minutes. Pam bit her lip, a nervous jitter she's had since she was seven.

When she hastily finished part of the sketch, she gave the finished portion a satisfied sigh. Pam loved art, anything that had to do with it. Watercolors, oil paints, famous paintings, simple doodles, long, simple strokes or tiny eyelashes on a self-portrait. A yellow blob that would become the sun, some green lines that would become a field of prarie grass. Her parents didn't think she should go into art, and Roy had laughed when she brought it up to him. He had seemed supportive when he first saw her sketches, but he thought it wouldn't be stable enough for a career. Pam had talked with her parents, they had told her she was good at her art, but they also thought it wasn't a good career choice.

She was pondering her sketch when there was a soft knock on the door. She stood up, smoothed her turtleneck, and walked over to greet Emma. They shook hands, Emma moving her head around slowly, taking in the new room around her.

She was really something, that Emma Emiliana. She had a long, colorful skirt on, along with a silvery top and a furry, tye-dye scarf. Pam smiled at the variety, quickly thinking of ways to put that in her article. Emma had thick eye shadow and wine-colored lipstick. Lime-green toenails finished her off.

They got each other's names and both smiled, Emma wasn't nervous in the least, but Pam was trying to not bite her lower lip.

They both sat down, Pam clearing her throat and beginning to ask questions.

"Where were you born, Emma?"

"I was born in the small town not a few miles from here, in a one-room cabin."

"How was your upbringing?" Pam was growing curious.

"It was a hard life, I usually had my sisters leftover clothes, which were nearly ripped to shreds by the time I got to 'em. My shoes were worn and my shirts had more holes 'n swiss cheese. I walked a few miles to school, which was better than home 'cause of the heating in the winter time."

Pam smiled. Emma would probably do this interview better if she had free reign of her talking.

"How about you just tell me your version of the story, ok Emma? Tell me how you like to tell it."

"Mm, thanks darlin'. Anyways, I was real poor back then. Usually hungry, with a few siblings. My older sister was smart, so my parents favored her. I discovered my acting and singing when I was in third grade. It was my escape, sweetheart. I could be rich and glamorous whenever I wanted with my actin'.

Pam nodded. She grabbed the sketch book, and started to draw Emma. The winkles and lines in her face. the colors fanning out in her clothes, the way her hands waved when she told the story. She was amazing.

"What are you doin', sugar?" She leaned forward, trying to see what Pam was drawing.

"Is it ok if I sketch you, Emma?" Pam looked at her, smiling. Emma was nodding.

"Yes, sugar. Anyways, my parents didn't think I should go into acting. They thought it was an ok hobby, but they said no when it came to my job. They told me to pick anything but acting and singin'. Anything. They told me that I wasn't goin' into actin' on their watch."

"So what did you do?" Pam looked up from the sketch to make eye contact with Emma.

"Oh, honey, they said that I couldn't on their watch, so I ran away! I ran off on a cool night, with nothing but some torn clothes. I hitch hiked my way to New York, and let me tell you sweetie, I had so many truckers puttin' the moves on me it was hysterical! But I made it ok, sugar. You know the ending to this story."

Pam was so amazed by her story, she could hardly find her words. "How were you discovered?"

"I was homeless for 'bout a year or so, wandering my way through the streets with nothing but the clothes I took from my old house here in Pennsylvania. I finally got a job as a waitress, which was no picnic but I got food then, sugar. Then I was the lucky girl was got to serve some guy who was real popular on Broadway, I don't remember his name now, but he told me I had ten minutes to prove to him I could be on Broadway, and honey, I did it!"

Pam raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Oh, yes sweetheart, I did. He set me up with some other big names, I was in my first show not long afterwards, and the rest is history! I was such a star, girl, you wouldn't believe."

Pam was in awe of the tale. Emma had just run away? From her home?

"If there was one thing you could say about New York, what would it be?" Pam had prepared this question a few days ago, wanting to know what NY was like. She had never been there before.

"Hm, well sugar, If I had one thing to say, it would be this: New York is where any girl can become a star overnight. And not just for Broadway, but for anything. You can ignite your dreams in New York, honey. It's where you can do anything." Emma's eyes were glistening with stars, past memories.

It was on that day, as Pam typed up her article, when she realized what she was going to do. When she graduated, she was going to run to New York. She could attend a great art school there, and be anything. Anything, just like Emma said. The city so nice they named it twice...

New York, New York...

She would prove her parents wrong. She would prove them all wrong.

Jim sat in his bedroom that night and blinked a few times. It was pretty much impossible for him to fall asleep at the moment. Instinctively, he reached over to his nightstand, but nothing was there but a lamp and his alarm clock. The flashlight that had once sat there was tucked away in his closet.

When he and Pam were in second grade, they read a library book together. They couldn't understand many of the words, but they managed to learn what morse code was.

They both got flashlights and whenever one of them couldn't fall asleep, they would take one and flash it aross the street, into the other's bedroom. With long "dahs" and short "dits" they were able to have simple conversations, mostly containing something like "hi". Nothing more. But once they got to be in about seventh grade, they would only flash the light once, then the other person would call them and they would have long conversations while sitting in front of their windows, being able to see each other. Sometimes, if Jim was doing his homework, she would simply look at him and he would sense her eyes on him, and he would look up. Just a shared glance made both of them smile.

He suddenly jumped out of bed. Bringing up an old tradition like this would probably make Pam smile. After digging around in the back corners of his closet, he saw it.

The flashlight. It was blue, decorated in stickers, most of them with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. He laughed when he saw them all over, then pressed his thumb into the black button and watched it click on. He took a deep breath and aimed it straight out his window.

Pam was laying in bed, unable to sleep when she saw the light in her bedroom. Wait...what? A light? She giggled when she realized that Jim couldn't sleep. He was bringing back their tradition from, like, their 'tween days. She quickly ran to her closet and found hers, sitting neatly beside a stack of books.

The flashlight. It was pink, decorated in stickers, most of them Barbies. She giggled when she saw them covering the whole thing, then pressed her delicate thumb into the small switch, watching the light fill her room. She smiled and pointed it in the direction of Jim's house.

Jim could hardly believe she had responded with the light. Her gave her some small waves around her bedroom, meaning that he was ready for her to call. They had always done it that way so when one of them called, then they knew the other person was ready to answer it quickly, so they didn't wake their parents up or anything. She responded with a few clicks. They had never actually stuck with the real Morse Code, because it was a little complicated. They had established their own system, of a few little dashes, but nothing like the real Morse Code. It was special. He remembers the day they thought of it.

Pam finished the last letter on their piece of paper. They had recorded their system so they would always remember. Three dashes for yes, two for no...

She added a smiley face with her purple crayon and smiled.

"Now it's done, Jimmy." She turned to him and giggled.

"No, Pammy. It's not. Not quite." He grabbed an orange crayon and began to write on the top.

"What're you writin', Jimmy?" She couldn't see, because he was covering it with his other hand.

"You'll see, Pammy." He finished it with a final flourish. "There."

She squinted and slowly read what he had written. "'Jammy Code.' Jimmy, what does 'Jammy' mean?" She looked at him, confused. He thought she looked adorable with the little wrinkle in her nose.

"It stands for us, Pammy. Jimmy and Pammy together is Jammy. Now do you get it?" He beamed when she slowly let the smile spread across her face.

"Yes, Jimmy. I like it very much." They shook hands and from then on, they named every drawing they did together, every sandcastle, every clay creation, every art and every craft, something with the word 'Jammy' in it. Soon, as they got older and became just Jim and Pam, it was changed to Jam.

He was brought back to life when he heard the ring beside him. Quickly picking it up, he smiled.

"Hey," he said in a hushed whisper.

"You brought back the Jammy Code, huh?" She sounded happy, light and giddy. Bringing back old memories always made Pam happy.

"Yeah, well I couldn't sleep, and you know how this always worked. I would have made my mom read me a story, but I hate anything other than The Velveteen Rabbit." Before he was even finished she was giggling, him shushing her so she wouldn't wake up her sisters in the rooms down the hall.

"Yeah, Jim, I know. Hey, guess what I wanna do when I graduate?" She let the pause sink in for a moment. Jim knew she wanted to go somewhere with her art, he had always been so supportive.

"What?" He knew she was thinking of something wild, like leaving Scranton to go on with her art. Pam wasn't very spontaneous, but she really loved her art.

"Well, I interviewed that Emma girl, and she ran away form her town in the middle of the night and hitch hiked to New York. She became a Boadway star! I just think that maybe I would have a better chance in NY..." Pam didn't feel stupid, she never did with Jim. He understood her and never laughed at her ideas. She could tell him anything.

"You want to run away to New York?" He didn't sound surprised, just curious as to whether she had a back plan or something.

"Um, well, I think I can apply to some art schools, ya know, like Pratt or something, and if I get in, then I can leave and become like a graphic designer." She sounded so excited, so hopeful, he wanted her to always feel that way.

"Well, I want to teach guitar lessons, but my parents tell me that I shouldn't. It's 'not stable enough'". He loved guitar, and dreamed of someday teaching lessons to younger kids. Like Pam, it would probably prosper in New York.

"Yeah, I know you do. Hey, let's make a deal." She was suddenly serious.

"Oh, come on Pam, Michael already told me how this game works. No deal, Howie." He sounded sincere. She wiped tears of laughter from her eyes, but was suddenly serious again.

"No, really, like a promise." He smiled. Pam always kept her promises.

"Ok, Pam."

"Alright, if by graduation day neither of us have decided on something we love more than guitar and art, then we will leave for New York together. One of us will have a car by then and I'm getting a real job soon, so it would totally work." The plan wasn't actually so bad. he would get to pursue his dream, Pam would get hers, and he would get to run off to New York with her.

"Ok, it's a deal."

Review, review, review! People who only read, you won't understand how much reviews are appreciated until you write a story! Please, tell me what you thought. Please. Tell me what you think about this development. I'm worried about this chapter.