Author's note: So, fail. Sorry ):):): My laptop freakin crashed and I lost all my files cause it's so stupid. I hated that little piece. But! Now I have a hopefully crash-free Macbook and it's seriously the most beautiful thing I've ever seen :D And I LOVE writing on it, so you won't have to wait long for posts ever again! Anyway, I had to rewrite everything and it took me so long to get them as good as they were before, which is why I haven't updated until now even though I promised a bunch of chapters a couple weeks ago. Sorry again ): Don't hate me!
Sooooo. While writing (and rewriting) all this, I feel like my "present" posts are moving along a lot faster than the "flashbacks." Just a heads up, you might get a couple flashbacks in a row if I'm done with the present and I've got like five extra flashbacks. Or maybe I'll combine a few flashback posts and you'll get super-long posts for a while. Or maybe everything will line up perfectly. I have no idea at this point, but I'll let you know if something comes up!
I guess it's been a while since my last disclaimer, so. I (very obviously) don't own anything.
"Oh, it's 5! I have to get to improv class! Alright, see you kiddos tomorrow," Michael stated as he stood up to leave. He paused by his employees' card table-desk and whispered "Feel better, Pammy," letting his hand rest on her shoulder for an uncomfortably long time. She simply smiled in return, and Michael turned for the door, shouting one final order of "Lock up when you take off!" before he left.
"Finally," she muttered, letting her head hit the green felt once more.
"Finally?" Ryan mocked. He knew, from past experience, that making Pam laugh was the one way to snap her out of depression. And the one way he could make her laugh was by mocking her or someone else around them. He didn't have pranks or funny looks to the cameras like Jim did. "What, you don't like being stuck in a closet with me and Michael all day?" A low growl was the only response she made. Although, it's possible she was talking and he couldn't hear her through the table. He didn't bother to ask for clarification. He simply placed his hand into hers, surprised when she didn't immediately pull away. "Right. Well hey, why don't you head home? I can close up tonight."
She squeezed his hand as a thank you, grabbed her purse, and slowly walked out of their office. The sky outside had turned an awful gray color, like it was ready to rain, but nothing would fall. She knew the feeling. She almost wanted the entire thing to crash down on her, but the clouds remained intact as she headed across the cold parking lot. Most of the hourly Dunder Mifflin employees' cars were already gone, but she recognized Dwight's dirt-covered Trans Am and Andy's perfect, shiny Prius still in their usual spots. Maybe the salesmen had to stay late. Technically, they were supposed to stay until the daily sales quota was reached, but Michael had always let them all leave at 5 o'clock everyday. He really was too nice for a boss. Pam arrived at her small Yaris, parked farther away than she remembered. In fact, the entire parking lot appeared longer than she had ever seen it. It seemed like whenever she was upset, everything looked as if it was big enough to swallow her up. She got out her keys, ready to wait inside her toasty car for Jim to be finished with work, when she noticed a small piece of paper underneath her windshield wipers. Confused, she searched her former coworkers' cars, but they were clean. If it was a flyer, everyone's windshields would be covered in sheets of paper. Pam grabbed the note and unfolded it.
Pam,
I asked Tom to pick me up after work. I just need to be… alone. For a while. I don't know how long. Maybe I'll see you tonight.
-Jim.
Over the years, she had cried over Jim more times than she could count. More times than she cried over Roy, more times than she cried over Ryan, more times than she cried over Ross and Rachel in that last episode. More times than she cried over anyone whose name started with an "R." Or any other letter of the alphabet. Of any alphabet. She cried when he kissed her during the casino night. When he left her for Connecticut. When he came back with a new girlfriend. When she said "We'll always be friends." and he didn't correct her. When he didn't come to her art show. When he finally told her why he left Scranton in the first place. When he ditched his job interview and asked her on a date. When he told her he loved her for the first time. When she had to spend her first night in New York, so far away from him. When he proposed. When he left her in the parking lot that morning. Granted, some of them were happy tears. Some of them were "Oh my God!" tears. Some were actual, gut-wrenchingly sad tears. Regardless, more tears were shed because of him than anything or anyone else in her life. This time, however, she couldn't cry. She knew that she should, she even wanted to. But no tears came to her eyes. Her knees should have felt weak, threatening to break unless she sat down. She shouldn't have been able to breathe; each deep gust of air was supposed to get caught in her throat before it could reach her lungs. But she just felt tired. Her car key wouldn't fit into the lock, so she simply sank to the ground, resting her head on the back tire. Her eyes refused to stay open any longer.
Closing up at the Michael Scott Paper Company didn't require a lot of work. Usually, both Ryan and Pam worked together, and they were out of the office in forty-five seconds. Tonight, Ryan was alone, so it might take a couple minutes longer. He shut off the coffee machine, shredded a few discarded files, and fed Michael's fish. "See your tomorrow, Luda," he sighed into the emptiness before shutting off the lights and locking the door. Michael had inappropriately named his pet "Fluffy," which Pam hated because it didn't fit and she was sort of a perfectionist. One day at lunch, while Michael was out with Todd Packer, she recruited Ryan, because she didn't have anyone else, he figured, to help come up with a different moniker for the thing. Honestly, he couldn't care less, but she seemed so excited that he couldn't say no. He turned on the radio and they bounced around a few ideas, going from Scaley, which they agreed was dumb but at least it fit, to Goldilocks, and then Bear, for her three counterparts. Pepper was next, because although it was a goldfish, if they looked close enough, they could see the small brown and white flecks on it's tail. But that turned into Dr. Pepper, because it was his favorite soda, and then Coca Cola, because it was her's. Eventually a rap song came blaring through the speakers on Michael's desk, and Pam swore the fish was dancing. Ryan said it was just swimming in circles, because what else would it do in a round fishbowl? But she insisted, and they named the pet "Ludafish," after the main artist on the song.
It had reminded him of when she tried to rename his dog, because "Roscoe isn't a good name for a girl!" Every time she went to his apartment after meeting his pet, she would suggest some weird, much-too-girly name, and he would never think twice about any one of them. With the exception of the dog's anatomy, everything about Roscoe screamed "male." Ryan told Pam that he was ninety-nine percent sure his dog was a lesbian anyway, if dogs could have different sexualities, and she responded with "Doesn't mean she shouldn't have a gender-appropriate name!"
Ryan let the memories put a smile on his face as he headed for the parking lot. He knew that they wouldn't be able to joke and mess around like they used to anymore, because she'd probably spend every second of her life trying to convince Jim to forgive her. And he will, once he stops being stupid. Because of course she loves him. Pam loves Jim. They're freaking PB&J, for God's sake.
And honestly, Jim thinks that Pam has feelings for Ryan!
That was the single most idiotic thing Ryan had ever heard. Can't Jim see that she's never had eyes for anyone but him? Can't he see that she's always belonged to him? Doesn't he know that "whatever she had with Ryan" ended because of HIM? It should have made Ryan feel good that Jim was worried Ryan could come between him and his goddamn soul mate. Ryan knew that he should have been glowing that Jim was jealous of HIS relationship with Pam. Like he isn't thinking the same thing every time Jim and Pam are together? Ryan should have taken advantage of both of them, Jim's insecurities and Pam's vulnerability. He knows that the old, cocky, "man-with-a-plan" version of himself would have, but at that moment he was too angry to even think about it. If Pam had stuck with him, hell yes he would have worried about Jim. He did, every second they were together. If they were ever "together," anyway. He was never worried about his stupid college friends, or Roy coming back, or Toby, even though she thought he was cute. Jim was the only person Ryan worried about, because he was always the only person in Pam's heart. So why the hell is Jim worried about anyone else? He wanted to go upstairs and knock some sense into the lumbering moron, but he knew that Jim wouldn't listen to him. Why would he?
Ryan looked down and noticed how tightly his hands were curled into fists. He took a deep breath, unwound his fingers, and pushed open the building door.
"Pam?"
"Pam! Are you okay!"
She squirmed under her captor's tight grip. "I'm fine…" she opened one eye. Of course. A sigh of relief escaped Ryan's lips, and he loosened his hold on her shoulders. She noticed that he didn't remove it completely. She shouldn't have felt comforted by that. "Can you get my keys? I need to… I just wanna go…" Her head felt light and she couldn't think.
She saw him look around and grab her keys off the ground a few feet away. "What happened?"
She wanted to lie to him, to say that she simply tripped on her way to the car, or that she decided to sit outside and enjoy the weather, or that she was waiting for Jim, like she was going to, but out of nowhere, all of the things that she hadn't felt before came rushing out of her. All of a sudden, a flood of tears escaped her eyes. She tried to stand, but her knees gave out and she fell into Ryan's waiting arms. He held her, on the ground of the parking lot, while she tried to catch her breath. "Pam?" She tried to talk to him, but her voice wouldn't make any sound. She probably didn't have enough air in her lungs to utter a word, anyway. Somehow her shaky hand made its way into his, and he took Jim's letter from her grasp. She watched as he slowly unfolded the paper, and pressed her head into his chest as he read the words on the page.
"Oh, Pam."
Jim watched the scene unfold before him. He knew he shouldn't have been watching her through the conference room window, but he wanted to make sure she got home safe. That she still had the car keys. Or something. He worried when she collapsed onto the cement, and he knew he should go down and make sure she was okay in case something had happened, but his feet wouldn't move from their place in front of the window. It didn't matter, because not a second later, Ryan exited the building and ran to her side. Like a freaking love-sick puppy dog. She reached for him and he pulled her close, rubbing her hair and whispering into her ear. They stood up, never leaving each other's arms, somehow, and he walked her to the passenger side of her car. Pam hates sitting on the passenger side. Jim's kind of taken over that chair, and she didn't like the way he adjusted the lumbar support and how far from the dashboard he pushed the seat. But when Ryan put her in the car, she complied without a struggle. Jim watched as Ryan carefully shut her car door, and ran a hand through his badly-dyed hair as he slid into the driver's side and started the car. He didn't need to move the mirrors or the seat even a centimeter, which Jim was sure Pam liked, and the pair drove out of the parking lot.
Yeah, Jim thought bitterly. She doesn't have feelings for Ryan.