Pam cautiously walked up to the unfamiliar receptionist’s desk at the hospital, her bright white Keds fitting in with the rest of the nurses’ footwear and squeaking loudly, as f to alert everyone of her presence.

“Ma’am?” Pam asked.

The receptionist didn’t respond.

“Ma’am?” Pam asked again, leaning over the counter a bit to get the woman’s attention. She grudgingly looked up from her magazine, GQ, and turned around.

“Oh. Wow,” Pam said, instantly averting her gaze. ‘Ma’am’ was a he. With very, very long hair.

“I’m really sorry… um… I didn’t see…” Pam trailed off, still avoiding eye contact with the man. Instead, she looked at his name tag that read, “Hi! I’m your happy helper HAROLD!” Harold, however, did not look too happy, or even helpful for that matter.

“What?” he demanded, clearly irritated that someone had managed to interrupt and insult him with just one word.

“I’m here to see Jim Halpert. Um… could you tell me what room he’s in?” Pam asked, suddenly fascinated by the bowl of M&M’s on his desk, not daring to meet the eyes of the man she had just so embarrassingly insulted.

Harold ‘humph-ed’ and lazily ran his mouse over his computer screen.

“Twenty,” Harold said, after scanning a list. “Is that all?”

Pam nodded quickly, hoping not to offend him further. Harold turned his attention back to an article on picking the perfect tie for any occasion.

“Thanks,” Pam said meekly and hurried quickly off only to find that she had no idea which way Room 20 was. Instead of returning to the receptionist’s desk desk and testing how far Harold’s helpfulness could be pushed, she wandered the halls, passing by many wards with Latin names she couldn’t pronounce and many old ladies covered with afghans that wouldn’t stop staring at her.

She found herself about to ask one of these woman which way Room 20 was, but she just couldn’t seem to do it. Something was holding her back.

She felt her stomach grumble, and she was able to find the vending machine quite easily. She was hungry since she had given up her lunch break to come to the hospital. She leaned against the vending machine.

“Miss?” a janitor said, popping his head around the corner and eyeing the camera curiously. “I have to refill the vending machines. Do you mind if I could--?”

“Oh. No, not at all. I’ll get out of your way,” Pam said, and she started moving down the hall, but turned around after a second.

“Wait!” she called to the janitor, who had bustled off to get a box from his cart.

“Yeah?”

“Could you tell me which way Room 20 is?” Pam rapidly spit out.

The janitor was immensely more helpful than Harold. “Yeah, it’s the first door on the right on the next hallways down. Why? Did Harold not help you? You’re the third person within the hour who he didn’t give directions to.”

So apparently Pam wasn’t the only one who had gotten on the sour receptionist’s bad side. She thanked the janitor and successfully made her way through the labyrinth of halls that smelled strongly like rubbing alcohol to Room 20 without being stopped by any more grandmothers in holiday sweaters.

The dull, blue plastic nameplate indicated that this was indeed Jim Halpert’s room. There was no mistaking it so there was no need for hesitation, but Pam didn’t open the door right away.

She looked at the door again, nervously and puzzled, as if it had just asked her to recite the alphabet in Arabic.

The door had no lock; no physical means were keeping her from entering.

“He’d come see me,” Pam whispered, and with that thought, she pushed open the door.

Jim was lying on the crisp, white hospital sheets that contrasted sharply with the dark bruises running from the edge of his shirt collar to the top of his cheek bone. One leg was cased in plaster and hoisted up with a complicated pulley system that Pam knew she would mess up if she even breathed on it wrong.

Long rubber snakes hung from an IV stand, and they bit Jim on the wrists. A machine next to him was purring in a menacing way, and it beeped every second or two. Another machine was whirring steadily and monitoring something Pam couldn’t even begin to guess.

Pam was split: part of her wanted to rush over there and comfort him, and the other part-- the bigger, scaredy-cat part-- wanted to bolt before he realized she as there. Before she could make up her mind, Jim eye’s opened blearily and option number two was immediately thrown out the window.

“Hey,” Pam whispered, Closing the door softly behind her and carefully folding her arms.

“Hey,” he croaked back. His face broke into a wide, genuine smile, which, oddly enough seemed to make Pam even more nervous.

Pam made an effort to uncross her arms and relax her shoulder. She grabbed a chair made of the same dull blue plastic that was common in the hospital décor, scooted it next to Jim’s bed, and sat herself down in it.

“How are you feeling?” Pam asked, concerned.

“Alright,” Jim said. “A lot better now that you’re here.”

“Cheesy. I think the painkillers they have you on made you a bit loopy,” Pam teased.

“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you and spending some time together,” Jim said.

The knot in Pam’s stomach twisted with guilt, but instead of saying what she wanted, she said, “Now I know that they’ve drugged you up.”

“How long are you going to be here?”

“Oh.”

“Oh, what?” Jim asked.

“Oh, I don’t think we’ll have a lot of time since everyone else is coming, too. They were going to get on their way after Michael finished looking at those naked ‘High School Musical’ pictures.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Pam was perched awkwardly on the chair in silence for a minute, listening to the beeps and whirs of the equipment around her.

“Well, that won’t be so bad,” Jim said, shrugging.

“I’m not too sure that Andy’s a cappella would be good for your headache,” Pam said.

Jim’s face twisted into a puzzled look. “ How’d you know I have a headache?”

“You just always kind of scrunch your eyebrows together and tighten up your lips whenever your head hurts,” Pam said, making an exaggerated face.

Jim laughed, but to Pam’s disappointment, it wasn’t the hearty laugh that she was used to; he sounded like he didn’t want to breathe in too deeply, like it would hurt if he laughed too loud.

“Impressive, Beesley.”

Pam smiled a bit, but she still was concerned.

“I can call Michael and probably convince him to get Meredith to turn the van around,” Pam offered.

“I’d actually like to have some fun with Dwight while I’m stuck in here.”

Pam saw the gleam in Jim’s eyes that he always had when planning a prank.

“You never told Dwight about the crash, did you?” Jim asked. Pam shook her had ‘no’ in response; she didn’t think she could trust her voice not to give away what she was feeling.

“Then we can tell him… I don’t know. That I got attacked by a bear?”

Pam laughed but started to think. “You don’t have any claw marks, though.”

“Crap. Good point.” Jim bit the corner of his lips. “How about I got attacked by Voldemort?”

Pam contemplated this one. After a bit, she shook her head. “Voldemort was vanquished in book seven, Dwight would never buy it; he keeps going on about how you can’t return from the dead in the wizarding world.”

“There’s got to be something,” Jim said, slumping into his pillows, deep in thought.

“I got it,” Pam said, trying to suppress a smile. “Your telekinetic powers backfired on you.”

“Yes, Pam. Yes!” Jim’s smile lit up his eyes, probably for the first time since his car and body had been damaged when a drunk driver had sailed through a red light two weeks ago. Jim had only wanted to tell Pam, but he had to tell corporate, who felt the need to tell Michael. Jim hadn’t wanted it to be spread around the office, but Michael, of course, had lasted one week before he had caved. To Michael’s credit, he didn’t tell anyone why Jim was in the hospital, mostly because he had forgotten himself; it had been really late when he had received the call from corporate, and the champagne bottle had been lightened considerably that night.

Everyone had insisted on visiting, and Pam had arrived early to give Jim a heads-up, but she wondered if company would do Jim some good. Two weeks alone and injured in the hospital couldn’t have been anywhere near pleasant, and Pam started to feel her eyes water.

“I’m sorry,” Pam whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“What are you talking about? This is pure gold!” Jim didn’t notice Pam’s distress.

“No,” Pam said. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to visit you. That was awful of me. You were hurt and… I needed-- you needed--”

“I understand,” Jim said, taking Pam’s hand into his own. “It’s okay.”

Their eyes locked. Both of them could sense what the other was feeling, and they knew nothing else needed to be said. Jim gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, which could have been considered romantic if there wasn’t a loud crash from down the hall.

Michael’s voice floated into the room. “Dwight! I told you not to touch anything!”

“Sounds like they’re here,” Pam said with a small grin.

“Five bucks says Dwight knocked over an IV stand,” Jim bet.

“I’m going to go with a man with a cane.” Pam looked over at Jim, who was looking skeptical.

There was a rap on the door and in filed Michael, Dwight, Karen, Andy, Meredith, Stanley, Kelly, Angela, Phyllis, Kevin, and Oscar. Michael started to shut the door, but it bounced off of Toby, who had been bringing up the rear.

“Sorry,” Michael said to Jim, ignoring Toby who was rubbing his newly bruised shoulder.

“I told him he’d only make you sicker, but he decided to come anyway,” Michael scoffed.

“Michael,” Dwight said, tapping him on the shoulder.

“What?” Michael asked.

“I did the head count and we came up short. We lost Creed.” Sure enough, Dwight was standing with his clipboard and only thirteen checks and a large, very official looking, question mark next to Creed’s name.

Michael exhaled loudly, blowing out his lips.

Jim craned his neck and looked out the small window looking into the hallway. He found half of Creed, the other half was searching for something in the medical waste bin, but Jim thought it would be wiser not to say anything.

“Oh well, he’s old, about to die anyway. Might as well croak in a hospital,” Michael reasoned. Everyone else fell silent.

Jim cleared his throat. “It’s great to see you guys.” Everyone murmured their greetings back and then looked around; the room was big enough to house Jim, his bed, and the medical equipment around it, but not much else, so the extra thirteen people, including Pam, were pretty much packed in elbow to elbow.

“Would someone like my chair?” Pam asked, getting up from her seat. “Angela?”

“No,” Angela said disdainfully as if the chair had done her some sort of harm. “They’re lopsided.”

“That’s what she said,” Michael blurted out.

“Strangely enough, I missed that.” Jim laughed, but instantly he winced as a sharp pain shot up through his cracked ribs.

“Oh, Jim!” Kelly squeaked. “You must be feeling awful! You know, Haley Joel Osmond got in a car crash, and he broke his leg, too--”

“I didn’t get in a car crash, though,” Jim said. He looked over at Pam who had a small smile on her face.

“Oh, I just assumed…” Kelly trailed off.

“Then what happened?” Karen piped up from the back of the room. Her arms were crossed and she was visibly upset. “You look pretty beat up.”

Jim got quiet for a dramatic effect. He scanned his eyes around the room, making eye contact with everyone, ending and lingering on Dwight.

“My powers…” Jim paused, waiting for the inevitable--

“What powers?” Dwight breathed with reverence.

Angela pursed her lips and summoned a look of disapproval, Stanley rolled his eyes, and Karen gave a weak half-smile.

“Do you remember when I made that coat rack move?” Jim asked Dwight.

“Your telekinetic powers?” Dwight whispered.

“That’s it. I’m leaving,” Angela said. She grabbed her purse, headed for the door, and shot a fleeting glance at Dwight.

“Make a full recovery, Jim.”

Dwight leaped up from his chair. “I’ll escort you out,” he announced loudly, an both of them exited the room.

“There’s still an open chair if anyone wants it,” Pam offered. There were still too many people in the room.

“Hey, why don’t the girls go up to that cafeteria they have on the fourth floor and have something to drink. Then we’ll switch and it won’t be so crowded,” Karen suggested. Everyone agreed that that sounded like a good idea.

The women started to head out of the door. “Are you coming, Pam?” Phyllis asked.

“I think I’ll meet up with you in a bit.”

Karen turned her head sharply, and her stomach clenched when she saw Pam’s hand wrapped around Jim’s. She briskly followed the other women out.

As soon as the door closed, Kevin grinned and turned towards Jim. “So, do you have any hot nurses?”

“I’m sure their husbands think so, but they’re all about forty,” Jim responded.

Kevin looked crest-fallen, but then he brightened up. “Well if they were hot, you could hook up and have sex.”

Jim raised his eyebrows. “Okay, then. Thanks for that, Kev.”

“You know, Gill and I met in a hospital,” Oscar added.

“That’s neat--” Pam started, but she was cut off by Michael.

“Really? Were you both here to get an HIV test?”

Oscar stared at Michael. Everyone fell silent, and then slowly but surely, Kevin’s high pitched laugh grew louder, and louder, and more irritating.

“We don’t serve alcohol. This is a hospital cafeteria,” The girl behind the cash register said. Meredith trudged away, thoroughly disappointed.

“Tea, please,” Karen ordered as she took her place at the front of the dreary hospital’s cafeteria line. She handed over $2.00 in exchange for a cup of lukewarm, stale coffee. She took one sip and made her way over to where Kelly, Meredith, and Phyllis were sitting.

“So what do you think really happened to Jim?” Kelly gossiped, leaning over her peppermint mocha latte.

“He was hit by a drunk driver,” Phyllis stated.

Kelly was confused. “But I thought he said--”

“I read it on the chart on his door when we headed out… It sounded like he was in a pretty bad state when they brought him in.”

Karen paled a bit and tightened her clutch on her coffee cup. “How bad?” she asked softly.

Phyllis gave her a motherly look. “It said there was internal bleeding and that his leg and a few of his ribs were fractured. But it seems like he’s doing really well now, don’t you think?” Phyllis added when she saw Karen’s face; she looked like she was about to cry and was throttling the cup like it was the driver who had caused Jim so much pain.

Phyllis nudged Kelly. “Yeah, totally,” Kelly chimed in. “Much, much better.”

Karen gave a meek smile and sipped her coffee so she wouldn’t have to say anything. Kelly took the silence as an invitation to talk about all of the celebrities she could think of that had been arrested for drunk driving, which turned into a long rant about Paris Hilton.

“And now, she said she found God. Well, that’s according to People magazine, which totally called that Vaughniston had split, so I completely trust them…”

Karen found that she couldn’t listen to more than two minutes of Kelly’s drabble. She zoned out and thought of the people in her life that had been in the hospital.

“Come on, Pam! They do it in all of the movies, and it never hurt anyone. Except for the people who laughed too hard,” Michael said, grinning.

“Michael, that’s because they’re actors.”

“But--”

“No.”

“Have you ever seen that episode of Saved By The Bell? Where Zach was in the hospital bed?”

Andy started to sing, “When I wake up in the morning’ and the ’larm lets out a warning’ I don’t think I’ll ever make it on time.” Kevin nodded vigorously.

Michael paused to laugh. “And that kid Screech pulls on the cords and everything goes crazy? The best episode ever, and I don’t see how you don’t find that funny, Pam.” He sighed, exasperated.

“Because it’d hurt Jim,” Pam said defensively.

“Yeah, I don’t think that would be such a great idea. My leg’s still a bit sore, not to mention broken,” Jim tried to reason, a smile tugging on the edge of his mouth; Pam had a hand on Jim’s right shoulder, protectively.

“Jim, where’s your sense of humor, huh?” Michael said, playfully punching him on the left shoulder. Jim grimaced, it hurt pretty bad.

“Michael, maybe you should go get some coffee,” Pam said, standing up and deliberately pushing Michael in the direction of the door.

“Fine,” Michael said grumpily and headed out the door.

“Does that mean I can leave, too?” Stanley asked, looking up from his crossword puzzle.

“Uh… yeah,” Jim said, trying to keep a straight face since Pam was imitating Stanley into his ear.

Toby jerked his thumb towards the door Michael just exited. “I should probably go with… just to make sure Michael doesn’t do anything…”

Just then a nurse who appeared to be fresh out of medical school walked past the door. “I’ll go, too,” Kevin said, inching towards the door.

“I think I’ll go wet my whistle, as well,” Andy commented. “Feel better, Big Tuna,” Andy said. Oscar got up to leave with him.

“Thanks,” Jim said. “I’ll see you guys soon.” The door closed, leaving Jim and Pam alone.

Jim looked over at Pam, raising his eyebrows. “An HIV test?”

“Poor Oscar,” Pam laughed. Jim started to chuckle with her, and they both kept laughing, gaining steam until they were both doubled over.

It felt so good for Pam just to laugh, to let all of her worries from the past two weeks just evaporate. Her spirits were high that Jim would make a full recovery. What could be better?

Pam stopped laughing long enough to walk over and open the door for the person knocking on it persistently. Her grin slid off her face completely when the open door revealed Karen with tear streaks down her face standing right in front of her.

“Uh… I should… go,” Pam murmured, shocked by Karen’s appearance. Jim looked at her, alarmed that she was going to leave him alone with a crying ex-girlfriend.

“Pam--” he whispered as she grabbed her purse next to the bed, but she raised her eyebrows.

“I’ll be in the cafeteria.” She avoided Karen’s eyes as she walked out of the door.

A long and awkward silence filled the room, only punctuated by Karen’s sniffles and the beeping of the medical equipment.

“So... Does it hurt?” Karen asked, looking up from her crossed arms.

“You know, you just set me up for a ‘That’s what she said’ joke. Michael would be proud,” Jim tried to joke, but immediately stopped when Karen didn’t laugh.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

“Uh… it’s not too bad. I’m fine.” These words that were supposed to comfort her just seemed to upset her more.

“No. You’re not. I know about the crash, and it’s nothing to joke about.”

“Who told you?” Jim sighed.

“It’s on the chart on your door, but wouldn’t you say it’s pretty obvious?” Karen asked, and for the first time, Jim could hear the metallic bite of anger in her voice.

“I told you, I’m fine. They’re letting me out in a week, and I’ll be back to work, even.” His eyes pleaded with her. “Please don’t be mad.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. The last thing she wanted was to be mad at Jim, yet she couldn’t bring herself to forgive him for keeping her in the dark and letting her worry.

She stared at the tile floor, ingraining it into her memory to distract from the lump rising in her throat. Two white, one black, two white, one gray, two white, one black--

“I’m sorry,” Jim whispered hoarsely. Karen looked up from the tiles. “I’m so sorry I didn’t call you,” Jim added, locking into her gaze directly.

She wouldn’t give in to him that easily. He didn’t know what it had been like for her. “You called Pam.”

She couldn’t believe she said it, but she didn’t want to take it back. She wasn’t ready to accept his apology; it had been frustrating, nerve-wracking, and all too scary coming to work and not seeing his coat hanging on the rack or his messenger bag slumped next to his desk. Bringing up Pam was selfish and immature, she knew that, but she needed to hear him say it, to hear him explain himself.

“Pam’s just…” Jim hesitated, and Karen immediately regretted bringing it up when she looked at Jim. He was pained, and it had nothing to do with the accident. She knew what he was trying to say, even if he didn’t know himself. She knew that Pam was his best friend, the girl he trusted, the girl he went to.

The girl he loved.

“Karen--” Jim tired, but she cut him off.

“Forget it,” she said, waving it off. “I shouldn’t have.”

Jim knew it would be polite for him to insist it was alright and that she could ask, but he held his tongue; he didn’t want to make anything more difficult.

“Just… let her know. Okay?” Karen said with a sad smile. Jim sighed, hoping she would understand how hard it was for him.

Karen walked over to Jim and sat down in the hard plastic chair next to his bed. She scooted closer and placed her hand on top of his, giving it a soft squeeze. Jim was startled; it was the first time they had made any physical content since their break-up.

“How could it get any worse?” she attempted with a laugh. “I mean, you were hit by a drunk driver, broke your leg and multiple ribs, been given what I’m sure was a peaceful visit by Michael.”

Jim laughed. “So true.”

“The worst thing that would happen is that you might be in an awkward position--”

“That’s what she said!” Michael said, leading everyone in to the hospital room, the boyish grin lingering on his face as he surveyed the scene in front of him: Karen leaning in close to Jim, her hand on top of his.

“Oh, naugh-TAY! Sex in the hospital!” Michael said as he gazed at Karen. She quickly drew her hand back. “It’s like in all of those porn videos! Hey, Karen.” Michael stopped and laughed. “We should get you one of those outfits, you know? The sexy nurse kind? That would be hi--larious!” Kevin bobbed his head in agreement.

“Okay!” Jim said louder than necessary. “I’m starting to feel a bit tired.” He gave a very loud and very fake yawn, and Pam had to turn her laugh into a cough. He stretched his arms over his head for extra measure, but regretted it as his ribs set on fire. He gave a real sharp intake of breath, and Michael took him seriously.

“Right, well, feel better, Jimbo.” Michael looked at Karen, and he couldn’t help it; another childish laugh escaped Michael as he headed out the door.

“Feel better, Jim,” Phyllis said, giving him a wink on the way out.

“Alright. Thanks.” Jim said as everyone filtered out, leaving Pam and him alone.

“Hey--” Jim started, but Pam was bursting to tell him something.

“Dwight came back.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she said biting her lip and smiling. “He’s here to inquire about,” she lowered her voice, “your powers.”

“Excellent,” Jim laughed.

“I’ll go get him; he’s waiting behind that potted plant next to your room. I think he’s hiding from Angela.”

“Send him in. This should be good.”

“Hey, Dwight,” Pam whispered, pushing aside a fake palm frond to reveal Dwight hiding behind it. “You can see him now.”

“Good, I have some questions for him. And for you. Let’s get going. When d--”

“Here?” Pam asked. “You’re going to question me from behind a fake palm tree?”

Dwight looked up and down the hospital corridor shiftily. “Good point. I’ll meet you in the ladies’ bathroom. Count to twenty before you follow me in.”

Pam looked like she was about to protest, but instead she said, “Make it sixty.”

“Done.” Dwight glanced around before jumping into the hallway and sprinting into the bathroom. Pam rushed over to Jim’s room.

“I’ve got sixty seconds,” Pam said, poking her head into the room.

“For what?”

“Until I meet Dwight in the girls’ bathroom. Fifty seconds.”

“This is getting better and better. Why?” Jim said, laughing.

“So he can question me about your powers. What should I tell him?”

“You’re in charge of this one, Beesly. Forty seconds.”

“But what if he asks me something about when you were little? He’ll know if I’m lying. He Googled you, you know.”

Jim took a deep breath in. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. You know me better than anyone.” Pam got quiet and stepped inside the room completely.

“I guess I do, huh?”

“Yeah. Uh-- Pam? I’ve got to tell you something.”

Pam surveyed Jim’s face; he didn’t look too good. “Are you alright? Should I get a nurse?” Her voice was full of concern.

“No!” he said, a bit too hastily. “I’m fine,” he added. “I just wanted to let you know that… there was a reason I called you first…”

Pam gave a small smile; she understood just from the look on his face. “I know.” She had to bit the inside of her cheek to keep tears from springing to her eyes. “Oh God!” she said, looking at her watch. “Dwight!” Both of them burst into laughter, everything at ease. It seemed right that Dwight would somehow interrupt their private moment.

“Wish me luck!” Pam’s eyes lingered on him a bit longer, then she rushed towards the bathroom with a huge smile on her face, but at the same time hoping Dwight hadn’t run into any old women.

After waiting for two minutes, Jim’s door opened a crack. He craned his neck to see Dwight shutting the door roughly behind him and striding over to Jim. Dwight flicked the bright light switch on, making Jim squint.

“Hey, could you turn that off and not do this full-blown interview thing that you see on CSI?”

“Sorry, Jim. Standard procedures,” Dwight said, taking the blue chair and scooting it as close to the bed as he could. Jim raised his eyes with an amused expression on his face.

Suddenly the bright light turned off.

“Hey!” Dwight shouted indignantly.

“Sorry,” Pam said. “The nurse in the hallway just told me to turn it off.” Instead of returning to the hallway, Pam closed the door behind her as she went into Jim’s room.

Dwight humph-ed. “She cannot be in here.”

“She will be here if you want me to answer any questions,” Jim said.

“So you’ll answer them?” Dwight asked.

“Of course.”

Dwight moved his chair even closer to Jim, bumping into the device holding his leg up on the way.

“Be careful,” Pam said protectively.

“Please. This is pathetic. Harry Potter re-grew all of the bones in his arm in one night, and you’ve been stuck up in here for two weeks.”

“But Harry Potter is fictional,” Jim reasoned. “And he has Skelo-Grow.”

“I have Skelo-Grow.”

“No. You don’t.” Jim looked bemused.

Dwight pulled a bottle out of his pocket. “Oh yeah? Then what’s this?”

“Bleach.”

Dwight gave a slightly disturbing smile. “That’s to fool the Muggles.”

“If you keep insulting my ability to heal bones, you can leave now,” Jim challenged. Pam had to cover her mouth.

“Sorry,” Dwight said quietly, placing the bleach back into his pocket. “So, what happened?”

“Well, there were these kids playing next to a fire hydrant…”

Pam looked from Dwight’s to Jim’s face; Dwight was wearing a look so intense and serious and Jim’s look matched Dwight’s intensity, if not more so. Pam couldn’t help but wonder how Jim could keep a straight face while making up a story involving hopscotch, innocent children, the backfiring of telekinesis, a water pipe explosion, and hot female firemen.

“Wow,” Dwight breathed. He gazed at Jim in awe. “Is there any way I can acquire these powers?”

Jim sighed. “Only if you’re exposed to radioactivity as a child. Why? Are you planning on blowing up any fire hydrants?”

“No,” Dwight said, his eyes flicking over to Pam. He leaned in closer and whispered, “She said they come in real handy in bed.”

Jim’s eyebrows flew up and Pam winked at him.