It was Pam's birthday.

She and Jim drove to work together, as they lived together, and they couldn't imagine what the Party Planning Committee had planned for her.

"I wouldn't be surprised if Angela refused to throw a party at all.” Jim joked.

She giggled, and patted her swollen belly.

She looked down admiringly. "Well I know she doesn't approve of this. She thinks I'm a huge slut."

"I’m not so sure about the slut part. But you’re definitely huge.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

They fell silent, both pleased with how beautifully her birthday morning was going.

“I’m only at like, six months and a week, you know. This is ridiculous.”

"You're excellent at counting. But if I had to guess, I'd say you were at twenty months"

She punched his arm. "Now I really hate you."

He tilted his head playfully. “Well you never know, Pam. There’s always a one percent chance that the baby is actually a gorilla.”

She giggled. “I’ll be sure to check on that at my next doctor’s appointment.”

And with that, they pulled into the parking lot. He helped her gently out of the passenger seat, and they made their way into the building.

They had no idea what was really planned for her.

As soon as they stepped out of the elevator, they knew the day would be crazy. They walked through the glass doors and--

Michael came running up to them and stopped them in thier tracks. "The Pamda bear and Jimraffe! Come in, come in! You're going to absolutely love what Kelly planned for you!"

"Kelly?"

"Yessir! Angela was being a little bee-yotch." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. He lowered his voice. "So I uh, put Kelly in charge. She seemed. . . enthusiastic about the job."

"No, its fine, Michael. I'm just going to go to my desk--"

"No! Follow me, Pamgaroo! This is a very special day, Ms. Beesly, so don't you dare treat it like any other!" He grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of Jim's grasp.

The room was decorated with with light pink and blue streamers, and everyone was wearing a birthday hat. A few looked up and smiled, but then turned back to thier work.

"Oh. My. Gosh!! Pam! Happy birthday!!" Kelly squealed. She ran across the office to Pam to give her one of those stereotypical girly-hugs. "I worked totally hard on this party. You better like it. I made it super awesome. Much better than Angela could have made it."

Pam tried to act excited. "It's lovely, Kelly. Thank you so much. I really appreciate it." She patted Kelly's shouolder and gave a fake, forced smile. "I'm going to head over to my desk. I'm not feeling too well." She turned around and trudged to reception, leaving Kelly awkwardly alone.

In the meantime, Jim sat down at his desk, getting prepared to watch Kelly's speech, but moreso to watch Pam reluctantly endure it.

So Kelly followed her back up to her desk, joyfully. "Oh, is it the baby?! Is that why you don't feel good? That makes per-fect sense. I think I read about that once, when I thought I was pregnant. But don't worry though, I wasn't. But anyway, seriously, that's like, soo exciting. I'm super, extremely jealous! Like, seriously, as soon as I get the chance, I'm going to get pregnant. And have like five kids. And oh my gosh, you look so, SO good. Have I told you that yet? I don't remember. But also, while I'm here, can I make a few small suggestions? Okay, well you should name your baby Kingston if its a boy, or Apple if its a girl. Or maybe Phinneaus for a boy, or Suri or Zahara for a girl. Just name it something rad like that." She took in a deep breath, and leaned in closer. Her voice dropped a few octives. "Aren't you like, really scared? I've heard labor is the most painful, most excruciating thing in like, the whole, entire world. You are going to be soo miserable. Oh my god. I--"

Pam cut her off desperately and grunted. "--Yeah. I know. How about we talk more later, okay?"

"Perfect. I'm p-s-y-c-h-e-d! You have to tell my ev-er-y-thing!" And with that, Kelly strutted back to her desk like a diva.

She sighed and looked up at Jim, who was now sitting at his desk, wide eyed and greatly amused. "Wow," he lipped empatically.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Shut up," she whispered. She looked down at her freshly opened email mailbox.

Two new messages from RAnderson69@aol.com. A wave of worry swept through her face and up her throat. She begain lightly trembling with fear and anticipation. She suspiciously opened the first email. He sent it yesterday, late in the afternoon:

Hey Pam-
I know this is really random, but I just rememberd that it's your birthday tomorrow. I guess I forgot last year, but I didn't forget this time! :)
Well, I got you a little present for your birthday, so let me know when I can give it to you. Hope all's well.

-Roy


She was flabbergasted. She hadn't seen Roy for almost a year and a half.

She clicked the second email open, almost violently. He had sent this one at about 2:30 that morning.

Pam-
How about today at lunch? Like 12-ish, maybe? Let me know. I'm planning ahead now. How you like that?
I'm guessing that I'll see you then, I guess. I'll be in the parking lot at around twelve. Hope you come.

-Roy

She covered her mouth to and leaned against the table. What was he doing? Why did he want to see her all the sudden? And mostly, why did he think she wanted to see him?

She shook her head in utter confusion, and this new stress suddenly made her feel nauseous.

"Oh God. ." she whispered and ran to the bathroom.

Jim, disconcerted, watched her waddle briskly to the lady's room. "That's weird. She was fine a minute ago."

Dwight didn't look up. He became distressed, and started running his hands through his hair nervously. "Expectant women are very spontaneous in their actions, Jim. Never, EVER trust a pregnant woman. They are crazy. One of my most valued buyers, Ms. Phinney, became pregnant one time. She was a neighbor of ours. All the sudden, she stopped buying beats. She kept telling me that if she ate another beat, she'd throw up. . . Kinda like what Pam's doing right now! See the connection? So I told her time and again that beats contain countless vital nutrients for her growing fetus, but she was just too stubborn. Mose cried himself to sleep every night. It was a dreadful growing season. . ."

"That's. . . uh, wow. Alright. Thanks for the--uh--insight, Dwight."

----------------------------

Pam tapped on Jim's shoulder. "I need to talk to you."

He swivelled around and looked up at her standing figure. God, she looked stunning. "Okay, Beesly. But just so you know, Dwight here just told me that I shouldn't listen to you."

She looked down at him pleadingly, and he knew his jokes were useless.

They walked together to the break room and sat down.

"Roy emailed me."

Jim's smile turned to a frown. "What?"

"He emailed me twice. He said he just wants to give me a birthday present."

"Wait, I don't get it. You two don't speak for nearly two years, but he now decides to make contact with you? What the hell?"

She looked down and started picking at her nails. "I don't know, Jim. He knows we're together, but he doesn't know that we're engaged and that I'm pregnant. I don't know, I don't know. . ."

He grabs her hand. "When?"

"Today at lunch, I think."

Jim bent his head back and exhaled loudly.

"It'll be like, five minutes, Jim."

"Mhmm. I hope so."

"Jim, you know that I love YOU. You don't have to worry."

"It's him I'm concerned about, not you."

She cocked her head to the side, confused. "You're not concerned about me?"

"No, no, that's not what I mean. I mean, I'm concerned that he's not--over you."

She squeezed his hand and leaned in closer. "We have Dwight to take care of that."

It was around 11:45. They sat in the breakroom for the second time, brainstorming ways to disguise her pregnancy..

"Just wear your white trenchcoat! It's pretty puffy, isn't it?"

She reached into her family-sized bag of Fritos. "I'm puffier," she scoffed.

"Ouch, somebody's grouchy."

She shoved a handful of fritos into her mouth. Her words were barely recognizable through the crunchy obstacles on her tongue. "It's the hormones, Jim. I'm pregnant."

"Shocker."

She stared down at the half-empty bag of fritos, deep in thought.
"Jim?"

"That's me."

"Jim, I want you to stay up here. Like, don't go to the lobby."

"And why not?"

She reached into the bag. "I don't want him to see you! Plus, I think I'm smart enough to handle this myself. I'm a big girl."

"I wish you'd let me go to the lobby."

She became flustered. "Jim! I don't want you down there! It'll take no more than ten minutes. If I'm not back up, then you can come down. Deal?"

"That's what she said."

She swallowed her next handful. She rolled her eyes, confused. "Jim," she exhaled, "I don't know what the hell he's been up to. This whole thing is just so. . .weird. I don't like it."

He was dumbfounded by her sudden moodswing. He reached for her greasy, salty hand, and just played along. "Me neither. Just don't act freaked out. Be strong."

She pouted. "I feel like I'm facing my doom."

He laughed and squeezed her hand. "You're crazy, you know that?"

"No, I'm emotional."

"You're right. Crazy AND emotional."

--------------------

She boarded the elevator to the ground floor in her trenchcoat and two scarves. The plan was for her to always face him straight foward, so that he couldn't see the bulge that her costume ultimately failed to disguise.

She waited in the parking lot for a good fifteen minutes before he arrived. He drove a small, red sedan that was screaming for a carwash, with two temporary wheels that needed air themselves, defeating thier very purpose.

He hadn't lost nor gained wait. . .Just more hair. His stubble was thick enough to appear as an immature beard. He wore jeans and an old, white tee shirt that Pam recognized instantly. He had a small, unwrapped box in his hands, that he obviously assembled earlier that day.

She was shocked by his filthy presentation.

"Hey," he muttered gently.

"Hi," she uttered, hesitantly.

He tried to act casual. "How have you been?"

She stood exactly straight in front of him, and kept her hands by her sides. "Alright, thanks. How are you?"

He shifted his weight to one foot and crossed his arms, still holding the little naked box. "Uh, not so great, actually."

She furrowed her eyebrows and backed away. "Oh. I'm sorry about that."

"Yeah. Just broke up with my girlfriend Amy a few nights ago. We'd been together for like, 10 months. She was really great. Like in bed and out of bed. She was something."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah. Like, I was going out with this other chick named Lisa for a while before that, but she dumped me after like, three months. That also sucked."

"Sounds like it would."

"Yeah. Sorry if this is weird or whatever, but I'm a little drunk from last night. My poker friend Robert told me I should wait before coming to see you, but to hell with it! I oculdn't wait. It's just been really rough lately for me."

"Well I hope everything works out for you."

"Yeah. Me too."

She looked down at her feet. "Yeah."

"Hey, Pam, I didn't just come here to vent to you. Look, I have something to tell you."

She didn't lift her head. She was expecting a simple birthday wish, then to move on. "Okay. . ."

"Well, here it goes. Just hear me out, okay?" He shuffled around a little, obviously nervous. "Basically. . .I--I miss you, Pam. All these other chicks were okay, but you were. . .better than okay. Like better than them, you know?"

Her eyes widened in panic and she sprang her head up almost violently. That was definetly NOT a birthday wish. "No, Roy. I can't. I won't." Her mind was racing. "You're pretty drunk so just. . . just thanks for the birthday wishes, I guess. I've got to get inside. . "

"Pam, stop!" He dropped the box and grabbed her wrists. Ominously, he questioned, "Don'tcha miss me? Huh?! I come all the way over here, where I'm not even fucking allowed, to spill my fucking heart out for you and you don't even fucking care?"

She began to cry, trying desperately to free herself from his grasp. "No! Roy! I care about you a lot. I just really can't do this!"

"Why the fuck not, Pam? You don't miss me at all?! I can't fucking believe--" His voice trailed off, and he looked down at her wrists. He had felt a large bulge under the sides of his hands. He let go of her wrists and slid his hands to examine the strange mass under the coat. ". . .What the FUCK is this?!"

Tears cascaded down her cheeks. "Don't touch me, Roy!"

"I said, What the FUCK is this?!" He poked at her stomach drunkenly, grinning viciously.

she curled herself up, wrapping her arms around her abdomen protectively. "You're drunk!! Go away! PLEASE!"

He slapped her face. "Wait a minute, are you fucking pregnant, Pam?!"

She simply nodded, stepping as far away from his as possible.

"Who's is it, Pam?! WHO'S IS IT?!"

She didn't move.

"Goddammit, Pam, answer me! I'm sober enough to figure this shit out!"

She just shook her head.

"Is it Halperts?! Yeah, I bet it's Jim Halperts! Hah! That skinny fag you'd always call your best friend! Dammit, Pam, is this some sort of fucking joke?!"

"I-I b-etter get b-ba-ck to w-work. ."

"Oh no, you're not goin' anywhere, Pam. That baby's supposed to be mine! You hear me?! MINE! We had this planned for like, ten years, Pam. And here you are, carrying fucking Halpert's kid. You're killing me, Pam."

She crumbled to to ground, sobbing heavily into her arms.

"Dammit, Pam, get the fuck up and stop being such a motherfuckin' crybaby!"

He kicked her left leg forcefully, sending her crashing onto her right side. She layed on her side, with the only barrier between her face and the gravel being her hair, which was damp with cold tears.

"Now tell me, and don't you fucking lie to me. Are you and Halpert. . . engaged?!"

She sighed painfully and swallowed hard. "Yes. ." she mumbled.

"Goddammit!" He yelled. He got up and grabbed his hair, thrashing wildly though the parking lot. "This is NOT what I had planned!! I'm gonna go fucking insane!"

He then darted back toward her trembling body. He got down and yanked her hair fiercefully back and whispered into her ear, "I never got over you! Never. Yeah, I know I let you go, but I never fucking thought this would happen. Look at what you've FUCKING done to me, Pam. My life is a fucking mess, and when I finally get the fucking courage to come face-to-face with you, you're FUCKING knocked up and FUCKING engaged. I hope you're fucking happy, Pam. I hope you're FUCKING THRILLED!"

And with that, he let go of her face and grabbed her gift. It was a picture of Pam and himself at prom in a glass frame.

He stood up and spiked the frame at her face, since it was the only skin exposed. It hit her forehead and shattered all over the place. The shards scratched her face open and ripped her coat apart, revealing the fluffy insides. Before she could even think to protest, her face was swimming in a shallow pool of blood. "That--THAT is what you've done to me, Pam. And I thank you for that."

He then moved foward and kicked her entire body like some sort of soccer ball, undoubtedly unconcerned by the fact that he was kicking the baby as well. She lay motionless on the ground, her face and neck being swallowed by blood.

"Oh, and happy fucking birthday! I almost forgot say so!" He hopped in his rusty car and drove away, satisfied.

Jim glared at the computer screen's clock. He could have sworn she'd been downstairs for over ten minutes, so he had the right to check on her, under her conditions.

"Dwight? what time is it?"

He didn't flinch. "I'm not telling you. That information is directly in front of your face."

"I just want to make sure its right."

"It is, Jim. You are an idiot."

Unable to stand Dwight, he took out his cell phone. His computer was right; she'd been down there for about fifteen minutes. He couldn't sit any longer, clueless as to what's was going on downstairs. "Thanks for the help, Dwight."

He put the cellphone in his pocket and grabbed his coat. He rushed pass the glass doors and down the elevator. He shook with anticipation.

------------------------------------

When he reached the parking lot, he saw no sign of Roy. His heart rythm doubled in frequency and strength. Where was Pam? He sprinted though the parking lot, and there she was.

"Pam!!"

He dashed toward her. He tried desperately to shake her awake, crying her name into her ear like a broken record. He felt for a pulse, and when he felt a distant beat, he felt nothing but hope.

He slid his arm under her head, unaffected by the blood and shards of glass. "Pam, my God, wake up! Pam, I know you're alive!!"

And she did. she woke up.

She began coughing furiously. He lifted her upright, supporting her weight, watching her release tiny fragments of glass from her throat.

"Jim," she moaned.

He grabbed his phone with his spare hand and began dialing 911. "Shhh, Pam, it's okay, it's okay. I'm calling an ambulance."

She sobbed, despite the obvious pain it caused her. "The baby. . ."

"Don't worry, everything's okay. I'm calling an ambulance. It's okay. . ."

This time she screamed. "The BABY!"

He took her in closer, rocking her head and shoulders in his arm. "Emergency," he told the operator.

"The baby. . ." she murmured.

"We need an ambulance immediatly, at 6106 Price Street, in the Scranton Business Park, #5. Okay. Yes. Okay, thank you very much. Please hurry."

"The baby. . ."

He put his phone aside and hauled the rest of her body up, away from the bloody mess. "Just breath, honey, everything's going to be--"

"The baby, Jim." Her voice fell to a whisper. The dried blood on her face liquified under each stream of tears.

He bundled her against him and rocked back and forth. "The baby will be fine too. Just relax. . . "

"He was drunk. . ."

He grimaced at the thought. "Shh. . . I'll deal with him later. Don't worry, Pam. Just breath."

He spent the remaining ten minutes before the ambulance's arrival trying to clean her up. He had stripped his coat off and used it to towel the blood from her face and neck. He removed her trenchcoat, which was now tie-dyed maroon and slit open in several seams. And after a never-ending ten minutes, the ambulance screeched into the parking lot.

The siren stimulated a rush of oblivious and petrified office workers to scramble downstairs into the parking lot. They watched as Jim and several paramedics hauled Pam onto a stretcher and carried her away.

-----------------------------------

In the ambulance, the paramedics literally blocked Jim from even sight of Pam. So during this solitud, he came to realize how unbelievably FURIOUS he was.

He felt guilty for letting Pam face Roy alone. But then again, he was just trying to make her happy. She wanted him to stay upstairs, didn't she? But he knew that in the end, she'd rather be upset by his intrusion than by. . . well, this. He knew he was wrong to think it, but he couldn't help but feel that this was all his fault. And he absolutely detested Roy for that.

When the paramedics temporarily moved aside, Jim finally caught a glimpse of Pam. She was wide awake and alert, and warily watched every move the paramedics made. They had wiped her face clean, but the deepest of her cuts continued to bleed nonetheless. Although her arms were hooked to bags of blood, she persevered in squirming around, trying almost desperately to get the paramedics to answer her questions.

Jim noticed her discomfort. So in his fury, he abruptly stood up and confronted a small group of paramedics who were filling out forms and preparing a fresh blood bag. "Hey! Are you all blind?! This patient's got a question, so why don't you answer her, dammit! 'Cause I sure as hell don't know the answer! And I'm the only one paying direct attention to her!!"

Their eyes grew wide from the startle, and they stood there like deer in a headlight. A young female paramedic bravely stepped out of the crowd to face Jim.

"My name's Candace. We're sorry--"

He didn't blink. "Tell it to Pam."

She nodded cautiously and turned to face Pam, who was now completely silent, gawking at Jim as if he were some superhero who'd miraculously come to her rescue.

"Hello, ma'am. Is there something bothering you?"

Pam snapped out of the daydream and turned to focus her gaze on Candace. "Is the baby okay?"

"Well, ma'am--"

Pam narrowed her eyes, which were starting to well up. "--Yes? Or no?"

"When we get to the ER, we'll know--"

Pam hoisted herself up with siderails. "Is it alive?! Can't you tell me that!?"

"Lay down, Ma'am. You're going to hurt--"

Pam squeezed her eyes shut in agony and plopped back down on the pillows. Her arms trembled from pain, and she began to cry. "J-just is it alive? Please. . . Just is it ALIVE?!"

Candace reached for a clean cloth and patted the fresh spews of blood from Pam's face. "Ma'am, we don't have that kind of equipment in this vehicle. But I can assure you that--"

Jim couldn't stand it. "--That what? Huh?! What can you ensure? That Pam's alive?! My dead grandmother could ensure that!"

Candace backed up in defense. "Please, sir, we're almost at the hospital. We will do anything and everthing possible to assist Ms. Beesly and the baby."

Jim snorted, frowned, then turned away from Candace. He dug his hands into his pockets and walked closer to the stretcher. He stared at Pam's face, his expression now more sad than angry.

"You okay?"

"I'll survive. I just don't know about the--"

"--Stop. I asked if YOU were okay. Not the baby."

She nodded. He reached for her hand and squeezed it, releasing his tension into her palms.

His booming voice shrunk into a gentle whisper. "I know this is the last thing you want to hear or talk about . . .But I need to know. For your sake."

She sniffled. "What."

"What should I do?"

"About what?"

He smiled half-heartedly. "He who shall not be named."

She smiled all the way. "Voldemort?"

"W-what?! Did you seriously just say the V word?!"

She giggled. "--Vagina?"

"You are nuts."

She shook her head and began tearing up again. "Jim. What were you going to ask?"

He then snapped back into reality as well. "Oh. Right. What. . .what should I do?"

She began to breath deeper, the flashback flooding her mind. "He--he tried to ruin us, Jim. And he came so close. Yeah, I'm alive. But there's a part of me that may or may not be, and I'm completely unaware. And that's kind of scary for me. So. . I guess. . . Just--just do what you think is right. No matter what you do, I love you."

He looked down, then at the paramedics, then at the blood bags, then back down again. He knew what he would do. And now that he had Pam's permission, he'd go all out and do it. And he was damn sure Roy wouldn't like it.

The paramedics rolled Pam into the critical condition section of the maternity ward. The entire time, she clenched Jim's hand. She groaned in vexation, Jim's pacification attempts futile.

When they reached her room, room 3018, she let herself loose. "I can't wait any longer!! Is the baby ALIVE?!" She started bawling, veins popping out of her neck.

He massaged her cautiously. "We're going to find out soon. . ."

She clenched her fists and spat her words out. "I can't do this anymore! I can't DO THIS!" She bended her head back to face the ceiling and breathed heavily. "I'm so scared, Jim. I'm so scared. . ."

As Jim began a new round of cooing, a doctor and two nurses entered the room. He was tall, thin and bald, with a amiable expression and puppy dog eyes. He had two assistants; a young man and an old, overweight woman.

"Hello, Ms. Beesly? My name is Doctor Norman, and these are my assistants David and Betsey. And this is--" he glanced at his folder, "Mr. Halpert? James Halpert?"

Jim stood up to shake his hand. "Thank you so much, Dr. Norman, Pam needs---"

"--Is it alive?!" she interrupted. Her face was scrunched and she was weeping.

Jim looked down nervously and continued. "--Uh,she's miserable. If you can't tell, I mean. Just. . I guess she needs to know if the baby's okay."

He nodded understandingly. "She's in good care, Mr. Halpert." He patted Jim's shoulder as he walked past and sat on a stool at the foot of the bed. David stood by Dr. Norman to assist, while Betsey applied pressure to the cuts on Pam's face that never stopped bleeding.

Jim pulled up a chair by the bed and sat down next to her. He massaged her and comforted her. . .whatever it would take to calm her.

"Now Ms. Beesly, I'm going to take a quick look now, and I'll tell you what I see. Just hold still and this should be done in a few minutes."

Dr. Norman began the procedure. Pam sobbed the entire time, expecting the worst.

After about five minutes, Dr. Norman stood up. His face grew stern. "Ms. Beesly, I need to do an ultrasound now. May I do one?"

Both Jim and Pam's hearts raced. "Please," she demanded.

He removed his gloves and washed his hands. "David, please set up the machine. Betsey, please get her ready." They each complied while he washed his hands. Jim tried to make Pam relax. The muscles in her face were tense, and her eyes were pinned on Dr. Norman.

"Is everything okay?!" she demanded.

He turned around and sat back on his swivel stool. "I was just checking for intrauterine bleeding. But there was none, which is always a good sign, yes?"

She nodded in agreement and sniffed. He began the procedure. "Ah, there's the baby. See that? Hmm. . . Let's get a better look. . ." he moved the monitor around. "Oh, oh my."

"WHAT?"

"Ms. Beesly, may I ask when was your last screening was?"

She trembled, almost feverishly, "I-- I. . th-"

"Three months ago," Jim interceded.

"That was quite a while ago. Your appointments should be scheduled at closer intervals." He interrupted himself with a smile. "But no worries. It's just that, well, Ms. Beesly here is carrying twins. I'm suprised you didn't know."

Her eyeballs nearly popped out of thier sockets, and her jaw almost broke off her skull. "I-- I'm sorry. Twins?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he sang.

She pulled her hand from Jims' and covered her face with them. In return, her face covered them with blood.
Nobody could make out her words. "Tha--that means th--that they're b-oth h-h-urt?"

He studyed the monitor again. "The one nearer to the surface of your skin has an abnormally rapit heartbeat, while the one father in has a much more normal one She appears to be in cardiac or respiratory shock. There may be more, to know for sure, we'll definitely need to--"

"--She?"

He frowned. "Oh, I'm sorry, was I not supposed to say?"

She stumbled over her words. "Jim. we're having a g-girl. . ."

"Two girls," Dr. Norman added. "Monozygotic, or identical twins."

She laughed and cried at the same time and reached for Jim's hand again and released emotions into them like a stress ball. "T. . .t-two? Two girls?!"

Jim massaged her hand and leaned in to kiss her. "I guess it's not a gorilla, then."

She giggled lightly, but then turned stern. "Doctor, w-what did you say we needed to, to do?"

"Right. Ms. Beesly, I know they're premature, but they need to be delivered. The one on the exterior will undoubtedly die if we don't get her heartrate under constant control."

It was Jim's turn to talk. "They can survive at this age?"

"A fetus is officially viable at twenty four weeks. Ms. Beesly's beyond that stage, so the twins should have a thriving chance outside the womb. They'll need to be kept in the neonatal intensive care area, though. The exterior baby in particular, though. An ultrasound cannot detect everything, so we'll have to wait and find out more once she's born. She'll need to be thoroughly examined and kept under extensive supervision. We'll have her put on a ventilator to stablilize her breathing." He patted Jim's shoulder. "Congratulations. You're about to become a father." He smiled warmly, then turned to wash his hands again.
The nurses cleaned up, then unlocked the wheels on Pam's bed to roll her to the OR.

He continued talking at the sink. "As they say, what needs to be done needs to be done. And let me tell you, this NEEDS to be done."

And just then, a spark reignited in Jim's mind. He remembered. As soon as he'd get the chance, he'd call up Daryll. Because what needs to be done needs to be done.

Jim looked though the glass wall to the nursery. He stared at the premature girl, as she lay calmly in her incubator. She was red and wrinkled, but astoundingly beautiful nonetheless. A nurse sat by her, keeping a close eye on the monitors attached to her. He wanted desperately to see the other twin, but nurses had rushed her away as soon as she was cut free from Pam.

His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was all over the place. He had dark rings under his eyes, and his shirt was untucked and still splotched with Pam's blood from the parking lot.

He was absolutely helpless. Pam was asleep, and the babies were out of reach. So he trudged into a nearby vacant waiting room and plopped himself down. He flipped his cellphone open, and was relieved to find no new messages. He found Darryl in his contacts and dialed him up. He slouched down and and propped his tired legs on the seat across from him.

Darryl picked up after only two rings.
"This is Darryl."

"Hey man, it's Jim."

"Oh geez man how are you? How's Pam?"

Jim sighed loudly, and spoke as he exhaled. "Oh, she's. . .alright, thanks. Uh, I was just wondering if you could. . . give me a uh, a number."

"Sure man. Who's?"

Jim held his breath. "Uh, do you have Roy's, by any chance?"

Darryl's voice lowered. "Oh, yeah. I think I got it. But are you sure--"

"Yes."

"Alright, man, its 404-903-3312. But listen Jim, you should probably--"

"No, no, that's. . . okay, thanks, I got it down."

"No, hear me, Jim, I wouldn't face Roy by yourself. He's. . . unpredictable."

Jim studdered. Was Darryl implying that he was too weak to take Roy? "What?"

"Jim, that man is a fuckin beast. He scares ME. I just think, well, You might want some help, you know??"

"But--"

"Listen, bro, Roy is quite a number. I used to work with him, I had to deal with him every freakin day. He's no fun especially when he's drunk. And ever since Pam left him he's always, well, been. . . drunk. I don't keep in touch with him much anymore. And for good reasons."
Jim lifted himself to better posture. His words began buzzing with passion. "Look,I don't know, I just. . .I just want to get him back, you know? What he did. . .just broke me. Broke Pam. I just wanna. . . --"

"I feel you, bro. I feel you. Let me help, man. I want to help."

Jim stood up and paced."--I just want to. . .make him suffer. Suffer bad. Damn it, Darryl, you have no idea! Pam's fucking lucky to even be alive. Fuck! I want to just. . . I don't even know. . . "

"Hey man, I know. I'm gonna help you. I never really like the man, but damn this is just fuckin messed up. Now I got a good reason to hate him."

Jim broke a sweat. "I want him to suffer. Just. . .that's all. That's all I want. To know that he's done. No more bullshit. God, Darryl, what the fuck do we do?"

"Let me call him, you take it easy. Let me set something up at Poor Richards or somethin. I'll call you after, man. Just. . take it easy, okay? Take it easy. I'm gonna help you, okay? I want to help. You're a good man, Jim, and I wanna help a good man."

"Okay. Thanks. I guess I'll talk to you later.

"You will, bro. Take care."

"Yeah. See ya."

As he shut the phone, he shut his eyes. Could the day get any worse?

------------------------------

Pam sat up in bed, alert. She was finally clean; her hair was pulled back and her face was stitched up. In fact, she looked somewhat better than Jim. She held Jim's hand as Dr. Norman entered. His face was abnormally stern.

"How are we, Ms. Beesly?"

"Better, I guess."

"That's good news! Everyone could use some of that now, can't they?"

Neither she nor Jim moved. "Mhm."

"But as for the twins. . . "

She clutched his hand harder and nodded. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what was coming.

He flipped through some sheets and sat down. "Well, let's start positive. One of them we know will be fine. We just have to keep an eye on her blood pressure and---"

"One?!"

"Well, ma'am, her sister is not as fortunate. I was getting there, but, well, her heart is extremly weak from working so hard earlier, so we've got a pump going. Also, the force of the blows have contorted her unharded skull, which have put enormous pressure on those parts of the unfinished brain. So right now we--"

She shook her head violently and let go of Jim. "Stop, Stop!!" she demanded, but collapsed at the realization of what he'd just said. "I can't listen to this anymore!! Sh-she's going to die. . . She's going to die! Oh, God!"

"No, Ms. Beesly. She's in the ICU, and she is doing better than before. But she is in critical condition, especially because she's premature. If it makes you feel better, we can bring the other one out for you to see. Would you like that?"

She covered her face and began bawling. "No, no! Oh no! No! Jim!" She dropped to her side and onto Jim's shoulder. He embraced her and cooed her, but couldn't seem to pacify her. He signaled for Dr. Norman to leave, and he did immediately.

He rubbed her temples and cheeks. He swayed side to side, gently wiping streams of tears from her face. "She'll die, Jim. She'll die!"

He felt a vibration in his pocket, and knew it was Darryl. However, he ignored it, and continuted to try calming Pam. "Easy," "Shh," and "Okay," was the only words he said for some time.

She finally made a noise other than sobbing. She sniffed extra hard, then swallowed loudly. "Kill Roy."

Jim leaned in, shocked once again by her extraordinary mood-swinging abilities. "Um, I'm sorry, what??"

"You heard me, Jim."

"I'm not sure I want to go to jail for murder just yet. I was planning that for a few years down the road. . ."

She turned her head and stared Jim in the face. Her eyes burned with fury, her cheeks flushed with rage. "He almost killed me. So kill him."

"I will NOT kill him."

She narrowed her eyes. "If you kill him, then he'll be gone, I'll be safe, and so will the rest of the world. Win-win-win."

He couldn't help but smile. He pulled out his cell phone. "Look, I've got a plan, okay? Roy's going to learn a lesson. From me and Darryl, AND from the law. Win-win for us, and lose-lose for him. Now, do you trust me, Beesly, or not?"

She layed back down on her pillows, closed her eyes, and reached for his hand. She needed to rest. She was still physically and emotionally drained. "Absolutely I do."

She fell back asleep almost immediatly.

It was raining. Hard.


Jim and Darryl waited at the bar. They'd been waiting for almost an hour, but still with no sign or Roy. And they were getting impacient. "Should I call him?" Darryl suggested.

"No."

So they waited another fifteen minutes or so, and then Roy appeared. He was still greasy and unkempt, and clearly under the influence. He wasn't expecting Jim to be there, so when they stood up to great him, his eyes widened in disguist. Darryl put his hand out to shake, but Roy didn't budge.

"What the fuck's Halpert here for?"

Jim burried his hands in his pocket. He WAS scared. Scared shitless, to be honest. He already felt defeated, and nothing had even happened yet. "Wow."

"I brought him along. 'That a problem?"

Roy stepped forward and tilted his head. "yes it IS a problem, you idiot! Who the fuck do you think you are!?" His cheeks turned red in hate as he pushed Darryl back into Jim.

Jim shot a look of desperation to Darryl, who flew back forward and socked Roy in the eye. "Don't be an asshole, man. You've done plenty of that already. So don't fuckin touch Jim, 'cause you've already done enough shit."

Jim stood there, paralyzed. He was so helpless, so weak. Why couldn't stand up for himself, but needed someone to do it for him? He despised himself more by the minute. He may as well leave.

"Hah!" Roy roared. He pointed his index finger at Jim like some sort of upset toddler. "You have no clue, Darryl! You, you to be talking! You got no idea! You got no idea what that faggot's done to me. This. . . this is his fault! Don't play dumb. I'm gonna whack the shit outta him!" He charged forward, snorting, but Darryl blocked him easily. Roy lost his balance in the rush of it all and stammered to the floor, now crying.

Jim swung to the side and pulled out his phone, because it was all his hands were really capable of. He so badly wanted to help, to hurt Roy. But he couldn't. Something held him back. He knew he'd just end up where Pam is.

Darryl reached out to Jim with one hand, and held down Roy with the other. He signaled for him to call the police.

Yeah. . .Jim could do that. Jim was cabable of such a task.

So maybe he COULD help.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The blasting siren melted away. Jim stood outside, drenched in rain, alone, pondering. How did this all happen? Why? This morning was so beautiful, so peaceful. And it was her birthday. So what kind of birthday was this? What did she do to deserve it?

Why did he have so many questions?

And why were there no answers?

He dug his hands in his pockets and sat down on the curb. He didn't care about the rain. Or that he resembled homeless bum. He just sat there, terribly confused.

He glanced at his watch. It was getting late, and Pam was probably expecting him back soon. His brain told him to stand up and drive back to the hospital, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. He tried to move, but couldn't gather the energy. He just wanted to waste away, and plunge down into the sewer tunnels with the dead puddles of rain.

He check his phone. Two text messages from Pam. In her first message, she wrote that she was worried about him, and that she prayed that Roy hadn't hurt him. In her second message, however, she told him that she was extremely lonely and scared, and needed him to come back to her.

He shut the phone and shut his eyes. He ducked his head and sighed. He couldn't look at her. He couldn't gather the strength to face her. Her pain had radiated the hospital room, grabbing him by the lungs and nearly sucking the life out of him. It even radiated through her messages. While he was miles away from the hospital, he could still feel his breath constrict.

But while he sat there, fighting the urge to scream at the top of his lungs and then beat himself to the ground, the phone vibrated. He rolled his eyes and flipped it open.

New Message Alert:
From: Pam
Sent: 6:23 PM
Recieved: 6:24 PM

jim! i need you back here now! its an emergency! --pam

Shit.