A/N: Okay, a little less "Jim to the Rescue", but he still sticks up for her... sort of... just had this idea in my head, and had to get it out. Be kind!! :)

Jim thinks he might have a mean masochistic streak as paces in the back of the church, next to the door marked "Bridal Suite". He finds the terminology amusing – it conjures up images of champagne and strawberries and silk bedsheets and his and hers bathrobes – even though he knows it's just a fancy way for the church to label the room where the bride and her attendants get ready for The Walk and The Ceremony and The Big Day. Thinking about it, Jim puts a hand to his stomach, trying to quell his own nausea.

Why did I agree to do this? Oh right. Masochist. Check. His head throbs.

She's been in there for about fifteen minutes already, which means that the ceremony has been delayed fifteen minutes because he had been sent down to find her as they were preparing to start, and that was fifteen minutes ago. Jim knows because he keeps checking his watch; it's the ticking that keeps him sane.

When he arrived at the door, she had locked herself inside. Her two bridesmaids and the mother of the flower girl were standing there in their gowns, rapping softly in the hopes they'd be let in. When the door finally opened, they scurried in but barred Jim – maybe for good reason – saying they would handle things. And that was nine minutes ago.

So much for handling things.

He hears crying behind the thin white door, and can't stand the thought that they're her tears being wept. He paces again, shaking his head, and walks right into Michael who is standing in the doorway to the anteroom.

"What's the hold up? Where is she?" he wears a smile on his face but it's thin, "There are only so many more jokes I can tell."

Jim sighs, "She's in there. I don't know what's going on."

Michael sighs and lets his shoulders drop as Dwight walks in. "What sort of problem is she having?" Dwight demands.

"Not now, Dwight," Jim's voice is flat.

But Dwight is already knocking at the door. "There's nothing you can do in there. You have to come out and face it. Hiding won't solve anything." He looks back at Jim and Michael with a shrug. "Tough love."

For the first time since they've been working together, Michael catches on to Jim's harried look and quickly ushers Dwight out of the anteroom. It's a surprise to Jim, and he allows himself a small smile.

The door to the suite opens, and the two lavendered bridesmaids – one pal from who-knows-where, and one soon-to-be sister-in-law, because the bride doesn't have many friends on whom she could rely for this day – and the prim mother of the flower girl step out.

"She won't listen to us," one says.

"She wants her maid of honour instead," the second shoots back, a note of derision in her voice.

Suddenly three sets of eyes are on Jim. He adjusts his tie and sidesteps between the women and straight into the Bridal Suite, rustling the fabric of their dresses as his leg brushes the cascading tulle.

He sees her sitting in the plush white armchair, next to the overstuffed white sofa, beside the crisp white table with the gilt mirror and a vase of white and purple lilies on top. Her auburn hair is half up, half down, but wavy and not curly, which is the only difference between today and work. She looks defeated, hanky in hand – even that is white, embroidered with purple – as she dabs at the corner of her eye and looks up at him. But Jim still thinks she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

His voice is soft as he speaks her name, more of a question than a simple statement. "Pam?"

He closes the door and stands with his hand on the knob and his back pressed against the wood. It's silent for a moment, until she rises to her feet, dainty white flats tapping softly on linoleum, and crosses the room.

"Jim," she says. He opens his arms and lets her in, resting his head on hers.

"It's okay," he strokes her hair, careful not to knock any of the pins loose. It's killing him to have to be there like this, as Pam's "Man of Honour", instead of where he really wants to be… standing at the end of the aisle… waiting for her to walk towards him.

Why did I agree to this?

But then Pam sobs again and Jim remembers. He loves her so much, he wants her to be happy, and he really didn't have a good reason to go out of town on June 10th after all. He couldn't bring himself to tell her what he wanted to say the night of the casino in the warehouse, when they'd stood in a pool of light from the parking lot lamps and he'd seen the goosebumps on her arms and wanted to hold her to keep her warm. Then he was in mid-breath, ready to tell her that he was in love with her, but she had beaten him to the punch, asking him to be an Honor Attendant at the wedding instead. It had seemed so cruel at the time, but he'd swallowed the words at the back of his throat and said yes and it was done, just like that. He couldn't back out.

It was hard, but he had somewhat reconciled his position in her life with the position he wanted to hold. He has to be her friend now. Her best friend. Nothing more, no matter how much it hurts. And it hurts so much he can feel it in his toes and in the ends of his hair and he's sure that if he keeps thinking about how good it feels to have Pam in his arms, to feel how well she just fits, huddled against his chest with her arms wrapped under his and her palms flat against his back… well, he's pretty sure he'd break his brain, and he can't imagine that that would feel any better. So he pushes the thoughts aside and tilts his head down to look at her.

"Hey Beesly," he whispers, and his index finger catches her chin and then she's looking into his eyes and he just wants to die but he smiles, "What's goin' on?"

"I-I… Jim, I… ."

He waits. He would wait forever. Screw the congregation. They've waited years for these two to get hitched, what's another twenty minutes? And screw Roy, while we're at it, Jim thinks. He doesn't hate Roy. Strongly dislikes, but doesn't hate; if Jim were Roy, he wouldn't give up on Pam either. But he still wishes the man would disappear or run off and join the army or something. Or at least that Pam would see for once that whatever Roy used to be to her, he's not anymore, but Jim could be all that and a million times better and… .

"I can't marry him, Jim."

Jim's train of thought derails in mid-sentence. Pam's eyes are downcast and Jim lets go of her a fraction of a foot to try and look at her.

"What did you say?"

She looks up, eyes freshly watered. "I can't marry Roy. And it's not cold feet, Jim. I don't think I love him anymore… ."

Jim hardly hears the words she's speaking and he strains to catch up. "Pam?"

She shakes her head, "I mean, I think you should know if you love the person you're marrying, shouldn't you? If you can't even tell that much, you shouldn't get married, right? That's what they kept telling us at those pre-marriage counseling sessions, anyway."

He just stares at her, the woman he's loved for more years than he cares to remember, standing in front of him, on the verge of making his dreams reality. He doesn't know what to do, so he just stares.

"The thing is, no one will listen to me! They say I have to marry him because of all the money and the food and Roy will be just heartbroken!" she scowls, "I never should have asked his sister to be my bridesmaid!" And then she starts to cry again, "And that's just it! Roy wants this, all of this. I don't anymore. And I've known for such a long time but I'm so stupid to wait until the day of the wedding to call off the engagement and… ."

Jim puts his hands on her shoulders; they're cold, and he can see those same tiny goosebumps on her arms. "You're not stupid."

"Yes I am."

"No, you're not."

"Then what am I?"

"Confused…," Jim starts.

Pam laughs and presses her fingers into the corners of her eyes, "That's a good one… ."

"…Scared… ."

She nods a little.

"…Beautiful."

She looks up at him. Jim feels his face redden, but he's come this far.

"You want my opinion, Pam?" he asks her. "If you can't marry Roy, then don't marry Roy."

How's that for self-serving? Jim asks, fighting to remind himself that she brought it up. Am I supposed to make her marry someone she doesn't love? It's not like she wants to marry me… .

She smiles faintly, looking down at her hands. "Then you go and say something like that…," she looks up at him. "Jim, I have to be honest with you."

"Shoot." His knees are trembling; he wishes he could sit down.

But she doesn't speak. She takes his hands in hers and traces circles on his skin with her thumb. It doesn't make his condition any easier to deal with.

"You're such a wonderful friend, Jim," she breathes, "And your friendship means the world to me, you know that… ."

He nods. His mouth is dry.

"I know I'm putting you on the spot. I asked you here to be my second, you know? You're supposed to make sure today goes well for me, and it can't be easy when I'm standing here telling you that it won't be going at all," she laughs, "And I was going to ask you to tell everyone… ."

"I will, of course I will." The words tumble out in one long, jumbled string and he wonders if she understands him. She does, and she smiles.

"No, Jim… you're going to hate me for doing this. You'll think I'm a horrible person."

"How can I possibly think that?"

"Trust me," her voice is heavy but her eyes twinkle and Jim likes that. "I had this fantasy, Jim. About today. I dreamed up that the pastor would get to the part where he says 'Speak now or forever hold your peace'… you know, right?... and no one stood up. I wanted someone to stand up and end this for me because I just couldn't, and no one stood up," her voice cracks at the memory. "But then… oh God, you're going to hate me… but then you put up your hand and said 'But I love her, too' and everyone gasped and we walked out of the chapel together," she smiled meekly, her face as red as one of Dwight's beets. "It's stupid, isn't it? But when I dreamed that up, I realized I had asked you to be my Man of Honour in order for that to happen. I realized I couldn't marry Roy."

Jim shakes his head, disbelieving. "It's not stupid."

"That's all you can say?" She isn't mad; she just makes the statement.

Jim smiles, but says nothing. He licks his lips, looks down at his hands and hers, clasped between them. When he looks up at her, she is expectant.

"Jim…," she starts, "God, I just told my best friend in the whole world that I'd rather marry him than my fiancé! Say something!"

And Jim continues to smile, even as he speaks. "I'll deal with the attendants listening in on the other side of the door. You need to talk to Roy."

Her face drops, but Jim laughs and squeezes her hands.

"I'll be here when it's over."

There are fresh tears in her eyes. She lets herself smile a little, just a little. "You always are," she says. She takes a deep breath, and Jim brings her hands up to his lips and actually kisses them. Twice. He catches her eye, silently tells her not to worry about a thing. Then he turns around and walks through the door.

"So?"

"What's the verdict?"

"Let's get going!"

"She's not getting married today."

They stare at him, open-mouthed.

"But…!"

"No. It's not about you. It's about them. They're going to talk. Not us."

"What did you say to her?" Roy's sister asks accusingly.

"Nothing that shouldn't have been said years ago…," he says, barely audibly, as he walks out of the room. He passes Roy on the steps, tells him that Pam needs to see him. From the look in Roy's eyes, Jim knows that he knows, and he puts a hand on Roy's shoulder as he passes. He feels for him; he's going to lose a great girl. But he doesn't get too torn up about it. As he exits the church through a side door, he waits. He hopes. He prays – maybe he should be doing that inside? He was never very good at being religious.

Maybe she'll change her mind. Maybe they'll go through with it. Maybe… .

He paces back and forth, underneath a flowering tree that smells so nice and he can't remember what it's called, even though Pam told him a million times because it's one of her favourites. Maybe that's why she picked this church… .

He can't keep thinking about it. He's driving himself mad just thinking about her and the wedding and the church and he blames himself, and… .

He sees her walking down the front steps of the church. Roy walks beside her. They hug. Roy walks off, head down, towards the parking lot across the street, where Jim can see him getting into the passenger seat of a black SUV. She watches him walk away, and Jim watches her in profile, waiting for her to turn and see him. When she does, she smiles, bows her head a little as she lifts up the hem of her dress and starts walking over the grass. Jim shoves his hands in his pockets, leans a little to one side. When she gets closer, Jim has to squint; the sun is getting lower on the horizon, and Pam is shining like silver.

"So?"

"So."

They don't have to say anything. The guests disperse; Pam doesn't want to talk to anyone right now. Jim feels a little awkward taking her hand, but it feels so warm and she's so willing that the feeling fades. They walk around the church; Pam takes off her shoes and walks barefoot through the grass. Jim thinks that, no, now she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

They don't talk much. Jim watches until the guests have left and Pam says goodbye to her family. He drives her around. They listen to music. Jim buys ice cream and as the sun finally sets they find a picturesque spot to eat their cones and watch as the sky is painted in the most vivid colours Jim has ever seen. Pam spills some chocolate on her dress; for the first time in a long time, Jim hears her laugh out loud. He wishes he could capture it and save it for when he needs to hear it again.

Roy is staying at a hotel that night, so Pam goes home. Jim drives her there. They sit in his car for a while. It's hard to comprehend what's just happened. Finally, Pam swiveled, her dress shushing against the seat, and steps out onto the cool pavement.

"It's been a trip, Halpert." Her voice is the loudest thing he's heard in a good while, but it's still whisper soft as the wind that's making the tree leaves outside his window rustle in the dark.

"You said it."

She is plaintive, thoughtful, as she leans on the window and peers into the darkness of his car. "I can't believe this is how the night of June 10th went down in the life of Pamela Beesly."

"Yup."

She fiddles with the ring on her finger, and he knows she's thinking about it.

"Well… good night Jim."

"Night Pam."

He waits and makes sure she gets in, and he thinks it is so surreal watching her amble up the driveway in her wedding dress. As he drives off, her wonders about the future and what it means that Pam has called off his wedding for him.

For me, he thinks. What just happened here?

He drives off into the night, the smell of her perfume lingering in the car. He rolls up the windows in case it should escape. He wants to hold on for as long as he can to the night when everything, finally, started going right.