"Come on, mate. You gave her a fair crack of the whip. Nothing to spit the dummy over. Why don't you just get yourself plonked and stop dwelling on it? Here's one, on me." The bartender drops a glass of beer onto the bar in front of Jim, with a shot next to it. "Or, better yet, you could give her a tinkle and find out what's on her mind. She's probably gone all wonky after the surprise you gave her."

Jim's gotten to know the bartender pretty well in the last couple of days, but he still doesn't quite speak Australian. It could have something to do with the fact that he's spent most of his time talking to other tourists, when he comes out of his room at all. But he's spent enough time with Billy that they understand each other just fine. Enough that Jim knows a tinkle has nothing to do with going to the bathroom.

"There will be no tinkling here, Billy. I know what's on her mind. She's getting married tonight. In about four hours."

Billy clucks at him sympathetically.

"No more damsels in distress for me. I'm done. Do you know any strapping young female farm hands that could put a hurt on me? Teeth are not actually required." Jim downs the shot and turns the glass upside down. "Whaddaya call them? Jillaroos?"

"Well, my sister packs a wallop, but you're up a gum tree. Might want to figure it out with your Sheila before you move on. You seem set on punishing yourself."

Billy starts wiping up the bar. No way is he setting up his sister with Jim. He likes Jim quite a lot, for a tourist, but he can tell Jim's got unfinished business. Besides that, his sister really could put a hurt on Jim if she wanted. And Billy knows the saga of Jim and Pam as well as the documentary crew at Dunder-Mifflin. Jim likes to talk when he's drunk.

"Ok, Billy. First of all, I have to move on. My girl isn't my girl. She belongs to someone else. Second, do you guys really talk like this, or are you screwing with me because I'm a tourist?"

Billy laughs, and it makes Jim laugh, too. Billy stops cleaning the bar and leans on his hands in front of Jim. He gives him a thoughtful look, and grabs a bottle from behind the bar. He does a shot with Jim, because it's the slow season at the hotel, and he's not exactly the employee of the month anyway. And he genuinely likes Jim, so he takes pity on him and plops one more shot in front of him. Jim's not a big drinker, so three in a row hits him hard and fast.

"Well, if you're going to just hang about whinging you might as well get rotten. Here's another. You're not going out of the hotel tonight, are you? But don't tell anyone where you got it," Billy sizes Jim up. "And don't blow your guts on my bar, either."

"You're a, what is it? 'Fair dinkum bloke', Billy," Jim raises the shot. "But if you keep this up I'm going to need a trash can next to me."

He's getting pretty bleary eyed, but after the shot he finishes the beer. The last couple of days have been pretty rough on him. He figures he deserves to tie one on. Every night. The morning he left, Pam called and hung up on his cell phone before he could answer it. He didn't call back. Now he's beating himself up about it, and drinking himself into an ulcer with a bartender who occasionally tells him he's got kangaroos loose in his top paddock, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

I do have kangaroos loose in my top paddock. I'm still in love with a girl who doesn't love me. She made her choice.

He'd gotten to the airport early. His mom had made him pathologically early for stuff like that all of his life, and it was a hard habit to break. He was afraid to hope, but while he waited for his flight he watched for Pam. Even as the final boarding call was made, he took one last look. And he hoped. Maybe she was chronically late, although she'd never been late for work. He finally gave up and boarded. The seat next to him was painfully empty, but at least he had room to stretch out and sleep. The more he slept, the less he'd had to think about her. But he couldn't sleep much and he couldn't keep her out of his mind for very long.

Why didn't she show? Did I really read her that wrong? Maybe I shouldn't have pushed.

When he got to the hotel, he dumped his stuff in his room and slept restlessly for what felt like days. When he finally came out, he went to the lobby bar. At some point, he got drunk enough to show Billy a picture of Pam and spill the entire story to him. It felt pretty good to get it all out.

But now he's off his face again, like Billy likes to say. He signs for his tab, leaving a huge tip for the bartender. "See you tomorrow, Billy."

"Let's hope not, Jim. Sleep it off. Go see something. Be a tourist, why don't you? Seems a bloody shame to travel so far to do something you could have done in Scranton. It's my day off, I could go with you if you need company."

Somewhere in his foggy mind, he appreciates Billy's concern. It feels good to be drunk right now. It feels fantastic to be so fogged up he can't think a complete sentence. He can't even find his room, so Billy sends security to help him. It's not going to feel so great in the morning, but at least for now he can have some peace and maybe get some real sleep without her invading his head.

He doesn't remember security walking him to his room and unlocking the door. He doesn't remember flopping onto his bed and looking at the clock and counting how many minutes Pam has been married. He doesn't remember trying to call her cell phone and getting her voicemail. And when he wakes up in the morning, he doesn't remember having turned the shower on the night before. All he knows is that his head is pounding and that he has to pee really, really badly, and that it tastes like a koala slept in his mouth.

He tries the bathroom door. It's locked.

Damn it. What kind of idiot turns on the shower and then locks himself out? I can't call security. I'm already building a ridiculous reputation around here.

As he tries to decide what to do about the locked door, the shower shuts off.

Holy crap. Someone is in my room. I'm in my underwear. Man, I hope it's at least a girl. Did I pick up a girl in the bar?

When the door opens, it's her. Her eyes widen in surprise. He steps back and almost trips over the minibar.

"Jim, oh, did I wake you? I wanted to let you sleep. I was going to wait in the lobby but this crazy bartender said he knew me, and then he got security to let me in your room and it was such a long flight. I really needed a shower…I'm really sorry."

He doesn't know what to say. He's still dizzy from the hangover, and he doesn't quite believe he's just seen Pam walk out of his hotel bathroom in a fuzzy robe.

"Um." He says. Say something, you idiot. This is what you wanted, isn't it? Tell her you love her. Tell her you drank yourself into oblivion at the thought of losing her.

"You stink," She says, with a little grin. "Why don't you hop in the shower?"

Because if I let you out of my sight I'm afraid it might be a dream. You might not be here when I get back.

But what he says is, "Ok."

He grabs enough stuff to put on once he's out of the shower and cleans up. He takes longer than usual, because he's trying to figure out what it means that she came. Did she dump Roy? The wedding must be off, right? Did she really pick me?

But all of that thinking is useless, because by the time he's done getting dressed and brushing his teeth, he steps out into a room that's as empty as when he passed out.

Shit. She did leave.

He hears a click and the room door opens. "Key, " she says, sheepishly, waving the card at him. "Security, remember?"

It doesn't matter. She's back.

"Jim, say something, " She pleads with her eyes. She searches his face, but he's still stuck. There's enough alcohol still running through him to make it tough to think quickly.

"You're late, " He says.

"I know. I had a lot of phone calls to make." She smiles at him, and it floods through him like a waterfall. He wonders if she can see that he's doing the best he can to keep it together. That it's all he can do not to reach out and pull her into his arms. She holds up a clear bottle full of yellow liquid. "Gatorade. It's great for a hangover. Do you know how hard it was to find this here? After the drunk message you left on my cell I thought I'd better pick some up for you."

When he doesn't say anything more, she looks down and starts nervously fiddling with the bag of donuts in her hand. She sets it on the table along with the Gatorade.

I'm too late. That's what he meant when he said I was late. He meant too late. He doesn't want me anymore.

So she tries again. "That was a pretty big chance you took. I mean, $3000. Wow."

"Not that big of a chance. It was refundable. Only to my credit card. I could have gotten the money back." I finally speak and THIS is what I say to her? I'm totally blowing it. Stop.

"Oh, well. I. Um. Jim," She stops, and her eyes are on his. She fights the tears back, but they well up anyway. Damn him. Why isn't he making this easy for her?

Because he already made it easy for me. He already gave me a push. It's my job now to jump.

"Jim, did I do the right thing? Tell me I did the right thing," The tears are rolling freely down her face, but she's holding back the part where it turns into great gasping sobs and the snot starts to run. If she can just keep it together for another second, she thinks she might be all right. "I…you…I want to be with you."

He finally moves toward her, pulls her to him and wraps his arms around her. For a long moment, all he can do is look into her eyes. She searches for some answer in his, and she sees something that she hopes is love. She doesn't know if it is. But when he slides his cheek against hers and she feels his lips and then his tongue, soft and hot on that spot between her shoulder and her neck, the feeling that runs down her spine is enough to make her dizzy. She slips one hand up to the back of his neck. He pulls back enough to look at her and puts his forehead on hers, noses almost touching. His breath is hot on her face and he smells like toothpaste with a side of bourbon. She's lightheaded and stunned by how badly she wants him. When he breathes out, she breathes in. She wants to be as close to him as she can, and taking his breath into her lungs is the best she can do right now.

He pulls her tighter against him, and fights the urge to throw her onto the bed and take advantage of what he's quite sure she's willing to give. His hands slide under her shirt and he hears her sharp intake of breath, but she doesn't stop him.

She lets out a long, shuddering gasp and presses harder against him. If I could crawl inside him, I would.

He pulls away from her and smiles. When he smiles at her she believes that she'd do just about anything he asks her to do. He slides his hands around her waist to the small of her back and just that small movement makes warmth spread from the small of her back to the rest of her body. When he lowers his head and puts his mouth over hers, she feels like she's falling. She relaxes into him and returns the kiss and thinks in the back of her dizzy, dazzled mind that it's a good thing he's got his arms around her or she would fall. When she pulls back, he's looking intently at her, his eyes serious and dark.

"You knew I'd come," she says.

"I hoped. I didn't know." He says. She looks up at him, and a flicker of doubt crosses his face.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

"Yes."

As she says it, she knows it's true. Everything in her life she's ever been sure of got thrown out the window a few days ago, but she feels more certain of this, of Jim, than she's ever felt about anything in her life. But more than that, when he's holding her she feels like she's home.

"So tell me, Jim. Did I do the right thing?" This time she smiles. A huge grin, a challenge, daring him to answer her in any way other than yes.

"I can't tell you you did the right thing, Pam, " he says, "but I can show you."

Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed! Your comments were what encouraged me to make this more than just a one chapter story.