Author's note: Hey guys! I think this is my favorite chapter yet. I'm not really sure why. Maybe just cause it's long. Anyway, hope you guys like it as much as I do!

Pam had no idea where she was headed. All she knew was that she needed to get out of that office as quickly as possible. She wandered aimlessly through the parking lot. It would be nice to take a drive, but Jim always insisted on carpooling and she didn't have his keys. She could probably break into Meredith's van or hotwire Michael's convertible, but decided that grand theft auto probably wouldn't help anything. She settled on a stone bench around the corner, and her body shivered a little in the wind. However, her mind hardly noticed the cold. She needed to be outside a while to blow off steam. She absentmindedly picked at the grass beneath her, scrubbing each piece against the concrete she was sitting on until a long green line was left on the stone bench. She attempted to make swirls and other little designs with her newfound paintbrush, when she was interrupted.

"Still an artist at heart, huh?" She jumped slightly at the voice and quickly glanced around to find where it came from. The blonde began walking toward her. She sighed.

"Little tip: When someone storms out of a room claiming that they can't be around you anymore, it usually means that they don't want to be around you anymore."

"Eh, I've never been one to follow the rules," he shrugged, sitting beside her.

"How did you know I was here?"

He smirked at her before responding. "Come on, Pam. You really think I wouldn't know you'd be here?" She simply looked back at her "artwork." "Although, I am a little surprised you'd want to even be around this place anymore."

"Last time I was here, I was happy," she softly muttered. She knew he heard.

He leaned into her shoulder, slightly nudging her to the side. "You… wanna talk about it?"

"I'm pretty sure we just did enough of that."

"No," he responded, taking her hand. "About the happy parts."

She sighed quietly and pulled her hand away from his. "I can't."

They sat together in silence for a moment, both staring at the ground between their feet. "Okay," he announced. "Sorry about… that whole thing. Of course you don't blame Jim for anything."

"Ryan…"

"You know I'm right," he stared, pointedly. She tore away from his eyes. "Yeah. But I shouldn't have yelled like that. I mean, I never wanted our first 'post-relationship talk' to go that way."

She was quiet for a while, letting his words sink in as she continued to rub blades of grass between her fingers. "It's okay," she sighed, standing up. "We can just forget it ever happened." With that, she turned and began to walk back into the building.

"Wait," he called out, causing her to stop in her tracks. "Forget about the fight or… about our relationship?"

She whispered quietly. "Both."

"Fine," he yelled back, a little forcefully. She knew he was standing and attempting to close the distance between them. Suddenly, he was mere centimeters behind her. Her breath hitched as his hand found the small of her back and his breathing was hot in her ear.

"But I'm never going to forget about us."

Pam stayed standing outside for a while after Ryan had gone back in. She finally gathered her courage and scurried toward the Michael Scott Paper Company office. "Hey, Pam," he greeted cheerily. Ah, the actor that she had gotten to know too well had returned.

"Pam. Hello," her boss welcomed more stoically. She smiled warmly and waved back to him, and his serious demeanor melted a little. He watched as she reached into her overly large purse and set a small potted plant on the card table that was her shared desk. She also pulled a small lamp and a few picture frames out of her bag, and began arranging them around her workspace. One frame held a photo of her three-year-old niece, dressed up in her make-up and her old, poofy high school prom dress. The other was a picture of her and Jim, moments after their engagement. She had to beg the camera crew for a screenshot, and her fiancé had to cough up thirty dollars, but it was worth it. She decided to place that particular photo so that the back was facing Ryan. No need to give him any more reason to be upset. However, he hardly looked at her since she walked in. Instead, he chose to stare at the laptop screen in front of him.

"What do you need us to do, Michael?" He looked around his desk for some meaningless chore.

"Ah," he responded. "I need one of you to make me 800 copies of this coupon for unparalleled customer service! That's sure to grab us some clients! Anyway, someone just make those copies." He placed the bright yellow paper between his employees and turned back toward his desk. Pam waited for Ryan to make a move for the copy machine, but he simply stared at the paper like she did. However, there was no way she was going to make that copy. If she made that copy, then she'd become the "copy girl." And all of her old reception duties would become her job again, and the only reason she left her old job was to get away from all that. The worst part was, she secretly wanted to make that copy. The paper always came out warm, and it was freezing in their tiny closet of an office. But it wasn't going to happen. There's simply no way.

A quick look at Ryan's face told her that he wasn't about to make that copy anytime soon either. She sat back in her chair and fiddled with her engagement ring while he typed away on their shared laptop. Suddenly, Michael's voice interrupted their silence. "Hey, somebody needs to make me that copy! Ryan, could you do that?"

"Pam's better at that stuff."

She turned to his eyes to see if he was joking. Nope. "That is so insulting."

"How is it insulting to say you're good at something?" he replied without glancing up from the computer screen.

He had to be kidding. His eyes told her that he wasn't. "Because the thing you're saying I'm good at, is pushing a big green button a bunch of times."

"I'm not judging it," he finally tore his eyes away from Youtube to look into hers. "It's like… I can run GM. But I can't fix a car. It's not saying one is better than the other."

She grunted. "Seriously? Because it sounds like one of those is better than the other."

"Look," he said, leaning into her. "You're probably dying to do it, but you don't want to look like the receptionist again. If you get up and make this copy now, I won't think of you as a secretary. You'd just be someone doing her job. Besides, I know you love making copies."

"Stop saying that! You hardly know what I 'love.'" She crossed her arms before sinking lower into her chair.

"Really? We're gonna do this again?" he responded, referring to their earlier dispute.

"No," she gave in and he leaned back in his chair smugly. "But seriously, temp. I think I've got seniority here."

His smile left his face as he lurched forward. "You wanna talk about seniority, secretary? I was the youngest VP in Dunder Mifflin company history. And you haven't gone higher than a pathetic saleswoman at a worthless paper company?"

"One of you just make the copy!" Michael shouted from his desk. Pam simply glared at Ryan until he groaned and grabbed the paper before heading for the broken copier. She smiled at winning the argument and stole the laptop from Ryan's workspace. Ooh, a new email from Jim.

PAM,

It's been, what, three days since you quit Dunder Mifflin? And already I'm falling apart. My boss hates me, I've got no one to prank Dwight with, and the new receptionist isn't nearly as flirtatious. I mean, what am I supposed to do here? Actually do work? Meh.

I don't know if I've told you, but Dwight's suck-up tactics are actually working with Charles. And my 'do marginal work half-heartedly' ones aren't doing anything for me. I don't understand it! Nothing makes sense without you here. I miss you sitting ten feet from me.

Love, Jim

"Blech." Pam's nose wrinkled in confusion. She glanced over her shoulder to see Ryan pretend to vomit.

"What?" she asked, crossing her arms in defense.

"THAT'S the guy you're marrying? THAT guy?" She narrowed her eyes, and he continued. "Seriously, Pam. I thought you'd want a guy with more backbone. I mean, come on! Did you read that message?"

"Yes, I did. And it was sweet. Wait," she paused. "Why were you reading my email?"

He threw his arms in the air in defense. "Hey, I just wanted to make sure you were doing work-related things on here."

"Right. Because you're always doing work-related things on here," she rolled her eyes and turned back to her email inbox, thinking their conversation was over. However, Ryan's voice broke through the air once more.

"God, would you just listen to him? 'Waaahh, nothing makes sense without you here. My boss hates me, I have no one to act ten years old with anymore, oh no!' Talk about an over-reaction." Pam wanted to remain stoic, but she couldn't help but giggle at Ryan's imitation of her fiancé. "Boo freaking hoo. I mean, you still see him every day, right? So you don't spend twenty four hours a day together anymore, big deal. Grow a pair." He ended his rant by leaning back in his chair, smugly throwing his feet onto the card table. She didn't know how to respond, so she simply stared at the laptop screen, letting his words sink in.

"Actually, I think you just proved it." A confused expression took over his face, and she continued. "That he's in love with me." Ryan laughed outright at that statement. She ignored him. "Look, there's no such thing as an 'over-reaction' when you're in love. And when you aren't together, you want to be. Even if it's only for part of the day. Plus, in a relationship, the man can't 'have a pair.' He just can't. Unless he wants the woman to walk on out." He smiled. "I mean, this email proves it. Jim really loves me."

He lurched forward until he was only a few millimeters from her face. "You think THAT'S love? That he really loves you? News flash, Pam: I loved you WAY more than this guy will--"

"Stop," she muttered, cutting him off. He looked like he wanted to continue, but she wouldn't let him. "Just… don't."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair once more. The room was filled with silence once more.

"Well, I do think you're wrong about one thing."

"What's that?"

"Girls don't love a pushover. They love a strong man, who doesn't display his pathetic loving emotions in an email."

"Nah," she said with a smile. "Girls love a guy they can walk all over."