Author's note: I don't think I've ever thanked you guys for your awesome reviews. You guys are the best readers in the world. Thanks so much (:
Also, I'm pretty sure I've never put a disclaimer in here. FYI, I don't own anything. If I did... I don't know what would happen. But I don't, so. That's the end of that.

Surprisingly, the parking gate was still open when Ryan pulled up to the building. A few cars filled spaces in the otherwise empty parking lot, and he figured they belonged to the security guards or cleaning crew. However, one car stuck out to Ryan. Pam's car. He pulled up next to it in disbelief. That couldn't possibly be Pam's car, she must have gone home hours ago. Ryan got out of his car and decided to peer through the windows of hers. A couple of sketch pads and romance novels were strewn across the backseat. A navy blue cardigan lay rumpled on the floor. Everything else seemed to be in perfect order. It was definitely Pam's car. He could tell by the paperclip necklace hanging off her rearview mirror. A shiny gold yogurt lid was attached at the bottom.

Thoughts of where Pam was took over Ryan's mind as he entered the familiar building. He was slightly shocked to find it still unlocked, but dashed for the stairs anyway. As soon as he walked into the Dunder Mifflin office, he realized something was wrong. All the lights were turned off, but her coat still hung on the rack beside her desk. He noticed her purse under the chair. Ryan convinced himself not to think much of it, because after all, this was Scranton, and nothing bad happened in Scranton. She probably went home with Angela, or decided to finally accept one of Roy's date invitations. Ryan wandered toward his desk, opening every drawer before concluding that his phone wasn't there either. He peeked through the windows of Michael's office, but couldn't see it anywhere. Maybe it's in the break room.

Ryan found his way to the familiar lunch spot, and heard muffled sniffling when he opened the door. Confused, and a little worried, Ryan's hand found the light switch and he flipped it on.

She was still sitting there, at "their" table, like she hadn't moved since his statement about her yogurt flavor. When the lights came on, she ripped her head from her hands in a panic, and his heart broke when he saw her face.

Her eyes were red, and the mascara she had put on earlier was off of her eyelashes and dripping down her cheeks. Her hair was a mess, like she had tried pulling it out with her hands. Her sleeves were rumpled and wet from the tears. In a flash, she stood up and tried to push past him; tried to run away. "Pam," he called out, grabbing her hand. Not even a second later, she was wrapped in his arms and clutching his shoulders for dear life. The tears began again, louder and more forceful than he had ever heard before. His shirt would be soaking before the night was over, but he didn't care. He hardly even noticed. All he could think about was how to comfort Pam, but his brain was failing. He held her close to him, running a hand through her hair and occasionally whispering "It's okay, Pam. Everything will be okay."

After a while, her sobs died down until he could barely hear them. He knew she was still crying, because her shoulders were quivering and every once in a while she took deep, shaky breaths. She didn't release her death grip around his waist, and he didn't mind. He just held her closer, rubbing circles on her back. A short moment later, her shoulders didn't quake as much, and her breathing became more even. He fully expected her to pull away from his grasp and walk away like nothing had happened, but today seemed to be all about disrupting their regular routine.

Ryan's ears must be deceiving him, because he could swear he just heard her laughing. He kept rubbing her back, and whispered "It's okay," but she just laughed louder. Confused, he pulled back to look into her eyes. A real Pam smile was tugging at her lips. "What's so funny?" he asked, and couldn't help giggling with her.

"Nothing," she replied, trying to be serious. He just laughed in response. "Really! Nothing is funny. I shouldn't be laughing right now. This is… bad."

She turned her face away from his and focused on the tile beneath them. "Hey," he whispered, tilting her chin toward his to look into her eyes. "If it makes you show even a shred of who you used to be, it can't be that bad." Her eyes searched his face for a sign that he didn't believe what he said, but found none. She threw her arms around his neck more tightly than she had before. He simply tightened his grip around her and kissed her forehead. He wasn't sure, but thought he could feel her smiling beside him.

"Oh," she sighed, reaching into her pocket. "I'm pretty sure this is yours. It's been ringing all night." He was too shocked that she was actually talking to him to realize she was holding something out for him to take. He looked into her hand and found his cell phone. A smile tugged on his mouth as his hand brushed hers while he grabbed it.

"Great, thanks. That's what I came here for." He was a little surprised to see her face fall.

"Well, good," she replied in her monotone voice. He was more upset than he should have been to hear that voice again. "You found it. I guess I'll see you tomorrow." She left the break room and wandered to her desk before he processed what had happened. She was grabbing her coat off the rack when he appeared in the doorway, calling out to her.

"Wanna talk about it?" They both stood still for a moment before he closed the gap between them. He walked up behind her, but she continued to stare at the front door. His fingers reached out and brushed her arm, and she slowly turned around. Her eyes were slowly filling with tears once more, and he couldn't help but wipe them away. She smiled a little at his action as more tears dripped silently down her cheeks. He cursed himself for saying something that made her do this again. With the little strength she had, Pam pulled him toward the couch near her front desk and they collapsed in comfort.

They sat together in silence for a few minutes, and then she took a deep breath. His eyes focused even more intensely on her face as he waited for her to speak.

"He left because of me."

It could barely be considered a whisper, but he heard her anyway. She continued to stare at her hands waiting for his response, but he couldn't come up with the right one. Should he tell her that that one person's decision to leave had nothing to do with her, even though he knew it did? Should he tell her not to ruin her life over that one person? Should he just keep murmuring "everything's going to be okay?"

He simply wrapped his arms around her for the second time that night.