FIC: With A Calm Mind Ch. 3 [The Office; Jim/Pam]
Author's Note: This was written prior to the premiere, so nothing from that is taken into consideration. While future chapters may incorporate parts of season six, as of right now, I don't have any plans to.
"Where's Pamorama?" Michael asked Jim later that morning, in the typical boisterous manner that would generally lead to shared expressions and stifled laughter between Jim and Pam.
He pointedly averted Michael's inquisitive glances and glanced down at the keyboard, making a mental note to find the keyboard cleaner later. "She's not feeling well," he said, pointedly avoiding the truth. "I told her to stay home and sleep."
"Is she okay?" Phyllis asked, looking over at Jim.
"Yeah. She just needs some rest." Just then, his phone rang, and he put a finger up to effectively silence both Michael and Phyllis. "Dunder-Mifflin, this is Jim..."
Pam pulled out of the motel parking lot. Breakfast would be nice, since she hadn't chosen a motel the night before based on the existence of free continental breakfast. She drove along the road, looking for a small diner. Food. Food, then call Jim. Let him know that she was okay. Would she go home? No need to make a decision on an empty stomach, and her stomach rumbled then, responding to the unspoken question.
She pulled into a small local diner located down the road. It wasn't often she went out to breakfast, especially without Jim, but times were changing.
Sitting at a small table inside, she glanced at the menu. A part of her wondered how much of this was 'safe' to eat for her. She hadn't even been able to talk to her doctor yet, get a checkup on how the baby was doing. The baby. It sounded so cold and distant. "Baby Halpert," she murmured, deciding on pancakes. Pancakes should be safe.
The waitress brought her a glass of water and smiled. “You ready to order?” she asked, pulling out a notepad.
“Yeah. I am.”
The last time he had felt so alone at work was when he had newly transferred to Stanford. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his co-workers, because he did, it was the uncertainty of the situation with Pam that was making him uneasy and he felt much as though he was an island in a sea of desks.
He got up from his desk and slipped outside, pacing in the parking lot. Every imaginable horror story played out in his head, her being kidnapped in the middle of the night by a masked assailant, her weather-beaten skeleton being found by hikers in the Poconos two years later, but it all came back to her leaving voluntarily and without telling him. Nothing else fit.
“Oh Pam,” he said, turning around to walk back into the building. Just then, he heard a faint ringing from his pocket. Stopping to answer, he took in a deep breath, and hoped for the best.
“Halpert.” The sturdy familiar voice echoed clear and true over the cell phone connection.
She sat at the picnic table, one overlooking the riverbank, the faint summer wind bristling through the leaves of the trees. “It’s me,” she said softly, barely above a whisper.
“Beesly, you’ve had me worried. Where are you? Are you okay? Are you coming home?” The peppering of questions felt never-ending, nearly suffocating. She had to smile though. It was nice to hear his voice.
“We’re doing fine,” she said, the corner of her mouth crooking into a small smile at her use of the word ‘we’. “But we’re not coming home yet.”
“Why not? We can’t deal with this if you aren’t here to talk it out.”
“Maybe it was a mistake for me to call you,” she said, raising her voice slightly, her voice oddly even and calm. “I just wanted you to know I was safe.”
“Are you in Wilkes-Barre? Still in Scranton? Did you head back to New York City?”
She shook her head even though she knew there was no feasible way for him to see the movement. “No, no, and no.”
“Then where are you?” It was more insistent, nearly a plea for any scrap of knowledge.
“I’m thinking about everything that’s going on right now, Jim. It’s peaceful here; it’s allowing me to clear my mind. I could draw, if I had my notepad and a pencil.”
“When will you be home?”
“I don’t know. Soon, maybe.”
A short time later, she snapped her phone shut and let out a sigh. Gazing out over the river, she watched the reflection of the morning sun on the water.
The phone call had been good, in a way. It allowed her to talk to Jim, let him know that he wouldn’t be seeing her face on the six o’clock news that evening, but also, it was a way to give him the goodbye she had neglected to give him the night before.
She stared idly ahead, fiddling with a loose strand of hair. Nervous habit, she supposed. There were a lot of things to be thinking about. Everything was changing, and if she didn’t think it all through, there would be a big Pam-sized splash at the end of it all.
There was no way that everything would be resolved in a day, a week, or even a month away, but she figured, if the most personal of the knots could be untangled, then she could face the rest hand-in-hand with Jim.
-to be continued-
Prompts Used: Sleep, glass, alone, mistake, sun, in order.
"Where's Pamorama?" Michael asked Jim later that morning, in the typical boisterous manner that would generally lead to shared expressions and stifled laughter between Jim and Pam.
He pointedly averted Michael's inquisitive glances and glanced down at the keyboard, making a mental note to find the keyboard cleaner later. "She's not feeling well," he said, pointedly avoiding the truth. "I told her to stay home and sleep."
"Is she okay?" Phyllis asked, looking over at Jim.
"Yeah. She just needs some rest." Just then, his phone rang, and he put a finger up to effectively silence both Michael and Phyllis. "Dunder-Mifflin, this is Jim..."
Pam pulled out of the motel parking lot. Breakfast would be nice, since she hadn't chosen a motel the night before based on the existence of free continental breakfast. She drove along the road, looking for a small diner. Food. Food, then call Jim. Let him know that she was okay. Would she go home? No need to make a decision on an empty stomach, and her stomach rumbled then, responding to the unspoken question.
She pulled into a small local diner located down the road. It wasn't often she went out to breakfast, especially without Jim, but times were changing.
Sitting at a small table inside, she glanced at the menu. A part of her wondered how much of this was 'safe' to eat for her. She hadn't even been able to talk to her doctor yet, get a checkup on how the baby was doing. The baby. It sounded so cold and distant. "Baby Halpert," she murmured, deciding on pancakes. Pancakes should be safe.
The waitress brought her a glass of water and smiled. “You ready to order?” she asked, pulling out a notepad.
“Yeah. I am.”
The last time he had felt so alone at work was when he had newly transferred to Stanford. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his co-workers, because he did, it was the uncertainty of the situation with Pam that was making him uneasy and he felt much as though he was an island in a sea of desks.
He got up from his desk and slipped outside, pacing in the parking lot. Every imaginable horror story played out in his head, her being kidnapped in the middle of the night by a masked assailant, her weather-beaten skeleton being found by hikers in the Poconos two years later, but it all came back to her leaving voluntarily and without telling him. Nothing else fit.
“Oh Pam,” he said, turning around to walk back into the building. Just then, he heard a faint ringing from his pocket. Stopping to answer, he took in a deep breath, and hoped for the best.
“Halpert.” The sturdy familiar voice echoed clear and true over the cell phone connection.
She sat at the picnic table, one overlooking the riverbank, the faint summer wind bristling through the leaves of the trees. “It’s me,” she said softly, barely above a whisper.
“Beesly, you’ve had me worried. Where are you? Are you okay? Are you coming home?” The peppering of questions felt never-ending, nearly suffocating. She had to smile though. It was nice to hear his voice.
“We’re doing fine,” she said, the corner of her mouth crooking into a small smile at her use of the word ‘we’. “But we’re not coming home yet.”
“Why not? We can’t deal with this if you aren’t here to talk it out.”
“Maybe it was a mistake for me to call you,” she said, raising her voice slightly, her voice oddly even and calm. “I just wanted you to know I was safe.”
“Are you in Wilkes-Barre? Still in Scranton? Did you head back to New York City?”
She shook her head even though she knew there was no feasible way for him to see the movement. “No, no, and no.”
“Then where are you?” It was more insistent, nearly a plea for any scrap of knowledge.
“I’m thinking about everything that’s going on right now, Jim. It’s peaceful here; it’s allowing me to clear my mind. I could draw, if I had my notepad and a pencil.”
“When will you be home?”
“I don’t know. Soon, maybe.”
A short time later, she snapped her phone shut and let out a sigh. Gazing out over the river, she watched the reflection of the morning sun on the water.
The phone call had been good, in a way. It allowed her to talk to Jim, let him know that he wouldn’t be seeing her face on the six o’clock news that evening, but also, it was a way to give him the goodbye she had neglected to give him the night before.
She stared idly ahead, fiddling with a loose strand of hair. Nervous habit, she supposed. There were a lot of things to be thinking about. Everything was changing, and if she didn’t think it all through, there would be a big Pam-sized splash at the end of it all.
There was no way that everything would be resolved in a day, a week, or even a month away, but she figured, if the most personal of the knots could be untangled, then she could face the rest hand-in-hand with Jim.
-to be continued-
Prompts Used: Sleep, glass, alone, mistake, sun, in order.