As far as dark and stormy nights went, this one was more dark than stormy. 

The clouds were thick and the streets were inky black like maybe if somebody stepped out onto them the gravel would turn to slime and stick to the soles of their shoes.  The air was buzzing with that ‘maybe it might rain’ feeling and the wind seemed to be an old high school friend of the oak trees that littered the front lawns, chattering noisily among the leaves and branches.  It should’ve been Halloween, really.  But it was the weekend before and everybody was standing in the Dunder Mifflin parking lot like they were being led off to the gallows.

The atmosphere was hostile at best.

The “paranormal investigator” was running late and Pam felt herself itching to just hop in her car and drive away from this entire thing.  She glanced up at Roy standing with Kevin and Oscar a few feet away and caught his eye, grimacing at the situation, and he offered her a half-hearted smile in return.  Right.  If she took the car she’d be stranding Roy here without one, and she was trying really hard to tread carefully with him, to make sure he was ok and to reassure him that they could still be friends. 

She still wanted to be friends, she just didn’t want to marry him. 

The difficult thing was that he'd said he didn’t want to marry her, either, and that made being friends with him…a challenge.  A painful and practically impossible challenge, since her pride took a little sucker punch to the gut every time he looked at her and seemed a little bit relieved or disinterested.  She was full of double standards and hypocrisy and confusion but she couldn’t really blame herself for that.  It had only been three days since she and Roy had called it quits.  They hadn’t even told anybody yet and were still keeping up half-hearted appearances like driving into work together. 

“I should’ve brought white bed sheets for us to wear and scissors to cut the little eyes out of them.”

She started at the sound of Jim’s voice in her ear, snapping her back to the present and sending a little sizzle of electricity down her spine.  She shifted away from him a quarter of an inch for her own sanity and laughed up at his sardonic expression. 

“I can’t believe you dropped the ball like that,” she muttered, shaking her head.  He clicked his tongue, feigning disappointment with himself, and she crossed her arms both because of the cold and because of other kinds of discomfort.  She’d broken up with Roy three days ago and she hadn’t even told Jim, who she loosely considered to be her best friend. 

Loosely because she was pretty sure a girl wasn’t supposed to day dream about her best friend taking off his shirt or grabbing her and kissing the regret from her mind.  Especially if he was sort of seeing someone.  But…

Anyway.              

The Dundies had changed things for her, and she didn’t know what the hell was going on.  Jim definitely didn’t know what the hell was going on because he’d been acting the same as always.  He hadn’t picked up on the stiff silence between her and Roy or the way they didn’t touch anymore, and she was a little bit annoyed because she’d wanted Jim to notice and make her life easier by figuring it out.  He hadn't yet.  Obviously she was going to have to tell him.

And when he asked her what exactly had happened she was going to have to lie. 

Headlights crept down the road and a flashing yellow blinker cast the fence of Dunder Mifflin parking lot into an eerie sort of light as a black pickup truck cautiously pulled in toward them, the height of the Ford 4X4 forcing Pam and her office mates to squint against the glare.  Michael bounced on his toes and rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“They’re heeeeeeere,” he called and Pam rolled her eyes, expecting that this was just the beginning of Michael’s shenanigans for the night.  She glanced at Roy across the group and his stare quickly shifted away from her, skittering to look at the truck as the engine cut off.  She sighed.

“Do you think we’re actually in danger participating in this?” Jim wondered and Pam pretended to think.

“Depends.  Are you afraid of the dark, Jim?” she wondered, looking up at him mischieviously.

“When I’m ghost hunting at the abandoned West Mountain Sanitarium?  Yes I am, Pam,” he responded, his eyes flashing and her stomach flipping just a little bit.  She looked away from him then and refocused on the combat boots emerging from the truck, hitting hard against the ground as a man standing at about 6’ 2” emerged wearing jeans and a black t-shirt.  His shaved head and broad shoulders reminded Pam of a cartoon general or a drill sergeant in some movie she’d seen.  He slammed the door closed and the group practically jumped from the sound of it.

“Dunder Mifflin paper?” the man asked shortly and Michael stepped forward, awkward and inappropriate.

“That’s us.  Are you the ghost buster?” he wondered and Jim shook his head subtly.  The man just stared at Michael for a moment before looking away and ignoring the question, addressing the rest of the group as if Michael hadn’t even spoken at all, and Pam had to admit that this guy was not what she’d been expecting.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Vincent Montgomery and I’m a paranormal investigator with PROS, the Paranormal Researchers of Scranton, Pennsylvania.  When you have to call me, you can call me Vince,” he explained.  Jim leaned down toward Pam and she held her breath because otherwise she was afraid she'd make some kind of sound, a happy sigh or a moan or something else inappropriate. 

“I can call you Betty, and Betty when you call me…” Jim quoted and she grinned.

“I’ll call you Al,” she responded and he bumped his shoulder against hers in what she was sure was meant to be a friendly gesture.  Her stomach tightened and she cleared her throat.  She wondered why Jim hadn't brought Katy for this excursion, and was pleased when the name sent her warm and wanton thoughts right down the drain.

“The instructions for this evening are clear and are not negotiable.  Do not leave your group.  Do not lose your walkie-talkie’s.  Do not stray to areas we have not discussed.  And lastly, when something goes wrong find me immediately.”  Giving them a moment to digest his list of instructions, Vince nodded and turned to the flatbed of his truck, hoisting two black duffel bags and a smaller camera bag onto his shoulders.  Pam watched him distractedly and zipped her coat up a little bit higher.

“Did he say when something goes wrong?” she whispered, and Jim glanced down at her with a furrowed brow.

“Hey, Vince?” Jim called and the paranormal researcher turned toward him with a hint of accusation, but Pam figured that was just how he looked at everybody.  “Should we be…I mean, isn’t this place a safety hazard?” he questioned and Vince squared off, rolling his shoulders back slightly, and Pam almost chuckled.

“I’ve been to the Sanitarium hundreds of times and it is only a safety hazard if you don’t follow directions,” he told them, “People get hurt when they ignore the rules.”  There was silence in the crowd and Pam looked over at Dwight who was nodding emphatically and dressed from head to toe in black, clearly ready to take on any phantoms that might be lingering in the night.  “This place was a TB hospital and there have been documented findings of disembodied voices, phantom gunshots, apparitions, unexplainable fluctuations in magnetic fields, and erratic temperature drops throughout the building.  If you pay attention you will experience something.  If you goof off and ignore my instructions you will get yourself hurt.  Understood?”

Everybody nodded mutely and Pam was starting to feel the flutter of nervousness from something other than Jim’s arm brushing against hers and the hollow look of disinterest in Roy’s eyes.  She was starting to feel the effects of this outing already and they hadn’t even left the parking lot yet. She felt herself cursing Michael and his stupid required team building exercises because if she had her way she’d be at home with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s right now, wallowing in her own mistakes.  Instead she was here, taking a small tape recorder and what Vince called an EMF meter and shoving them into her messenger bag where she planned to leave them for the rest of the night.  She was not interested in finding ghosts.

The air was cold and the moon was full and she was pretty sure this was how every single horror movie she’d ever seen started out.

She was also pretty sure that the red head was always the one who died first.

Their car crawled up the hill at around 20 miles per hour, the third and last in the caravan on its way to the abandoned building.  The atmosphere was silent, uncomfortable, and tense.  Pam watched the scenery crawl by from the passenger seat and ignored the occasional sounds of irritation coming from Roy.  The cars ahead of them tapped their brakes and Roy followed suit.

“This is even worse than bowling,” Oscar commented quietly from the backseat and Pam grinned over her shoulder in agreement, glancing at Meredith sleeping squished in between Oscar and Creed.  The only office employee not in attendance was Angela because she claimed the excursion was against her religious principles.  Pam wished she’d thought of that excuse.

“How late do you think we’ll have to stay here?” she wondered as the car started moving again and Creed adjusted the hood of his gray sweatshirt, unconcerned with whether his movements would jostle Meredith out of her slumber.

“All night,” he assured her, his voice tinged with a foreboding kind of knowledge.  “You always have to stay until sunrise so you don’t miss anything.” 

She glanced at Roy and frowned.

This just kept getting worse and worse, she thought petulantly, and even when she thought it couldn't get worse than it already was, it did.

As if on cue the car jerked and she felt the tires give beneath her, sliding in a way she was only used to in February.  The air left her lungs while Roy’s hands gripped the wheel tight to correct the fishtailing that their car was suddenly doing, his mouth muttering expletives and his eyes squinting hard as he struggled to somehow miraculously get them back on track.  They veered toward the trees to their right and she felt her hand lift to her mouth on reflex, holding in a gasp, her forearm pressed tight against her seatbelt.  And just as they hit grass, his foot came down on the break a little bit harder, his hands pulling the wheel and finally righting them back against the pavement. 

She watched him in surprise and he looked over at her, obviously confused.

“Must’ve gotten some rain up here,” he muttered, a little out of breath, “the roads must be slick.”  She nodded, sort of convinced, and they all tried silently to regroup, the breathing in the car heavy and audible. 

Their inhaling and exhaling was suddenly drowned out by the radio in the truck blaring to life, loudly broadcasting a signal from a country station that Roy liked to listen to sometimes.  Pressing a hand to her chest Pam reached over fast and turned it off, confused and jostled.

“Did you bump that?” Oscar asked her and she shrugged.

“Maybe…”

“What the hell?” Meredith suddenly wondered, her eyes slits in the green half-light of the dashboard, “Are we there or something?  What’s with the music?”

Pam mumbled an apology, explaining that she must’ve accidentally hit the button and they were almost there.  Meredith grumbled a half-response about wasting money on a babysitter to go looking for spooks in the woods, before closing her eyes again and drifting off to what Pam assumed was an alcohol induced sleep.  She returned her attention to Roy who offered her a tight lipped smile that she didn’t return.

“This is weird,” she confessed quietly and she honestly wasn’t sure what she was talking about: the outing, the two of them, the three clowns in the back seat…there were too many choices.  He hummed an answer and just as she started to settle into the slow and steady pace of things again her walkie-talkie crackled to life in her lap, making her jump nervously and fumble to turn it down. 

“Vince to Pam, come in Pam,” their leader’s voice echoed into their car and she sighed, pressing the orange button on the side of the device.

“This is Pam,” she mumbled, embarrassed to be using the thing, feeling like an eight year old boy playing cops and robbers.

“I thought you all were gonna run right off the road back there, did your tires slip? Over,” he wondered and Pam sighed out something like relief to know this drill-sergeant-wanna-be was keeping track of them at all times.  For some reason she found comfort in that.

“Yeah, we figure there must have been some rain up here,” she answered and waited patiently for a response.  There was silence until she realized he thought she wasn’t finished.   “Over,” she offered sheepishly.

“Roger that.  There wasn’t any rain,” he told them, “Sometimes there’s electronic failure right around the 20 mile mark on this road that can't be explained.  Hope you were paying attention because you might’ve just had our first paranormal experience of the night.  Over.”

She inhaled and looked over at Roy who stared back at her for a moment, motionless, the car crawling to a stop at the urging of his boot against the brakes. 

“What did he say?” Oscar asked, shaken.  Pam turned to glance at him over her shoulder and shook her head because it was pretty much the only response she could muster.  Oscar leaned over Meredith and pinned Creed with a hard stare.  “What did that guy just say?” he asked again.  Creed just smiled as Roy hit the gas, shaking his head and huffing out a heavy breath.

“This is a bunch of crap,” he grumbled.  “I’m gonna kill Michael Scott.”

Pam silently agreed, warily eyeing their surroundings and suddenly seeing more in the shadows than was really there.  That wasn't electronic failure, she reasoned with herself, their car just slipped.  This was an old road and they were out in the middle of nowhere, so...that didn't make her feel any better, actually.  She sighed.  Her walkie-talkie crackled again and she held her breath, expecting someone to report seeing mist or a floating light or something.

“Jim to Dwight, over.”  

She felt herself start to grin at the voice coming through, glad they’d all agreed to tune to the same channel so everybody could communicate.

“This is Wolf Hunter, over.”

There was silence on the device and Pam’s grin spread to a full out smile.

“Jim to DWIGHT, over,” Jim repeated.

“This is Dwight K. Shrute, aka the Wolf Hunter, over,” Dwight expanded and Pam heard Jim clear his throat into the radio.

“Yeah, Wolf Hunter, there’s a hitchhiker up ahead here and since you guys don’t have any room in your car, I was thinking I’d pick him up.  Thoughts?  Over,” he finished.  Roy sighed, annoyed, and glared at Pam’s amused expression before turning back to the road and passive aggressively inching up toward the bumper of Jim’s car.

“JIM HALPERT, LISTEN CAREFULLY.  DO NOT PICK UP THE HITCHHIKER.  HE WILL MURDER YOU AND DISPOSE OF YOUR BODY IN THE WOODS.  I REPEAT DO NOT PICK UP THE HITCHHIKER,” Dwight shouted, his voice tinged with genuine worry and Pam imagined that Jim was completely satisfied in the driver’s seat of his car, despite the too-close headlights of Roy behind him.  “Over,” Dwight finished firmly.

“Pick up the hitch-hiker,” Jim answered, “Copy that.  Over and out,” and Pam figured for as irritating as this night was going to be at least every once in a while she could forget about Roy and Katy and laugh with Jim.  At least there was Jim.

She chuckled as Dwight protested into the walkie-talkie and Jim was stubbornly silent, and she let herself be entertained, laughing and smiling over her shoulder at Oscar until his expression suddenly dropped and Pam was forced to turn around and look out the windshield.  

The building was large, gray and unfriendly, draped half in shadow in the way old buildings sometimes were.  Huge sections were pitch black and charred from fires that had been set by kids in the 90's and she could've sworn she saw a bat swoop in the air above the roof.  She swallowed.

The half-burned Sanitarium loomed in front of them, rising up out of the mountain top like smoke.  Her laughter died and Dwight's voice on the radio went silent.

There was nothing funny about this.  At all. 

“You will work in pairs, exploring the building in a rotation, with four of you stationed here at central at all times.  You have recording devices and EMF detectors for a reason, use them, try to capture EVP’s by asking simple questions and allowing fifteen seconds for any presence to respond.  We will listen back to the recordings once our investigation is complete.  If something happens, do not panic.  If you or your partner does react with a panic attack simply turn and head back to central, we will send someone out in your place.  Do not, I repeat, do NOT provoke the spirits with threats or any kind of hostility.  That’s how you get yourself hurt.”

Pam raised her eyebrows and shifted uncomfortably in the lobby of the building, trying hard to keep her eyes from wandering across the peeling paint and shadowed halls.  Even Michael was looking nervous and regretful, wiping a hand across the sweat on his brow. 

“You all have maps and flashlights?” Vince asked and everybody nodded, holding them up as evidence.  “Good.  Pair up,” he told them, repeating himself when nobody moved.  Michael was, naturally, the first to select a partner, his voice echoing in the empty space as he jogged away from Vince and into the pack of them.

“I choose Jim-bo!  Boys night,” he explained breathlessly, excited, and Pam watched as Jim went pale, frowning and shaking his head, shifting in discomfort.  Pam figured he was counting the hours until his demise if he was partnered with Michael Scott.

“Oh wait, Michael, Jim promised me we’d go together because I get, um…” she offered, thinking, trying fast to come up with something, “I get seizures,” she tossed out, holding in her laughter at Jim’s expression of surprise and feigned concern.  “Jim’s the only one who knows how to get my helmet on so I won’t crack my skull.”  Michael stared at her for a moment with a grimace on his face and she felt Roy’s eyes burning a hole in the back of her head, but she stayed stationary and sure of herself until Michael sighed.

“That’s…unattractive.  Overshare,” he muttered, “Ok so Jim is with Pam and I will go with…Ryan!  My man!”

Ryan’s head dropped down in defeat as Jim made his way over to Pam with his flashlight illuminating the sheepish grin on her face. 

“My hero,” he teased and she chuckled.

“Yeah well, I just thought if you went with Michael I’d get stuck with Kelly or something and I do not want to be wandering around a haunted hospital with her,” she offered.  Jim’s expression shifted from amused to confused and Pam started rifling through her bag to find some kind of distraction because she was pretty sure she knew where his thoughts were heading.

“Why, uh, I mean why aren’t you going with um, with Roy?” he wondered and she looked up at him, holding her breath, her eyes wide and her heart pounding hard in her chest.  Right, why wasn’t she going with Roy?  She turned and saw her ex-fiancé standing awkwardly with Darryl who looked beyond irritated at this entire expedition. 

“Oh,” she croaked, and Jim watched her expectantly as she tried to come up with something to say.  Instead Vincent interrupted and she let out a sigh of gratitude.

“Everyone set?” he barked.  “Great, so let’s see.  Creed, Meredith, Kelly, and Kevin why don’t you all stay here at central for now.  Roy and Darryl, you two head to the west hallway, careful of the floorboards.  Phyllis and Toby can take the east hallway, Mike and Ryan head to exam room 4, Dwight and I will take exam room 7, and Jim and Pam you guys head over to the east holding room.  Everybody clear on where they need to be?” he asked curtly and nobody really responded, but that didn’t seem to bother him.  “Get going, stay in contact, we’ll meet back here to rotate positions in an hour.”

Jim glanced at Pam and sucked in a deep breath that she imitated subconsciously. 

“Let’s do this,” he exhaled and she shrugged because really…she was terrified and she didn't have a choice.  They started down the east hallway behind Phyllis and Toby and Jim stripped off his coat, draping it over his arm and brushing against her accidentally in the process.  She ignored the feel of it.  “So what does our sheet say about the east holding room?  Poltergeist?  Bloody Mary?  Alien abduction?” he teased and she shot him a warning glare, wondering how much of her face he could really see in the half-covered moonlight.  Flipping on her flashlight she illuminated the paper in her hand and read the information to him aloud.

“The east holding room was a place for patients who were terminal.  Mostly suffering from Tuberculosis, these ill people were often forced into treatment known as ‘fresh air.’  Even in the cold of the winter they were left outside, in hopes that the outdoor air would rid them of their illness.  Countless patients died of frostbite and hypothermia.”

They were silent for a moment.

“I do not like this place,” Jim offered and she found herself chuckling without much humor in response.

“Yeah me neither,” she agreed.  “Ok that’s not all it says.  Reports in this room include the sounds of coughing, humming, and crying, full-bodied apparitions, shadow people, and cold spots. Documented EVP findings include a disembodied voice saying ‘Get out’ as well as screams and the sound of a woman asking for help.”  She paused and looked up at Jim’s shadow-covered face, feeling the blood freeze in her veins.  “I really don’t like this place,” she reiterated as they slowed to a stop in front of the vast, expansive east holding room, still littered with rust-covered beds and clumps of dirtied sheets.  She swallowed and wondered who had suggested this outing to Michael in the first place.  Whoever they were, she thought they must be insane.

The air was thick as they stepped inside and Pam glanced over at Jim, taking a step closer to him until her arm was pressed against his and he grinned down at her, clearly amused.

“Scared?” he whispered.  She huffed.

“I just thought you might be,” she retaliated and he nodded, pressing his lips together as they moved in unison toward the far windows where there were folding chairs she assumed they were supposed to sit in. 

“I actually am, so thanks for thinking of me,” he confessed. 

They finally landed at the chairs and each took a seat, both just sitting there a moment and taking in the overwhelming atmosphere, the silence practically pulsing around them.  Jim braced his elbows on his knees and cleared his throat while she swept the beam of her flashlight around the room and shed her own coat to get rid of the bulk and the rustle of it.  She reached down and pulled the tape recorder resignedly from her bag, figuring she’d just turn it on and do what they were supposed to, hoping the activity would distract Jim from her obvious tension when it came to Roy.  Vince had explained that Electronic Voice Phenomenon was when a recorder caught voices you couldn’t hear with the naked ear, which she sort of thought sounded unlikely.  But he was insistent that everybody do it, and she didn't really want to chat right now for fear of what she might say, so...EVP it was.

“Uh,” she started, half-smiling as Jim jumped at the sound of her voice, “This is Jim and Pam in the east holding room,” she mumbled like Vince had told them to.  “Doing EVP,” she added awkwardly.

“Seriously?” Jim protested, the look in his eye wary as she flashed her light toward him. 

“He said we have to,” she responded.  He sighed.

“You’re such a rules follower, Pam, honestly.”  The tease in his voice was not lost on her and she felt herself get warm from being smitten. 

“Sh, I’m working over here,” she whispered.  He hummed a non-response and she cleared her throat as a sign that she was beginning.  “Hi, I’m Pam and this is my friend, Jim.  Is there someone here with us?” she asked, feeling fear bubble inside of her that somebody might actually respond. 

She waited. 

Nothing.

“Are you sick?” Jim asked, shrugging at her impressed facial expression. 

He waited.

 Nothing.

“Are you a doctor or a nurse?” Pam questioned.  She waited and shifted slightly in her chair, waving an apology when the sound of it startled Jim. 

Other than that, they heard nothing. 

“Can you give us a sign of your presence?” she asked. 

Silence. 

“This is so stupid,” she breathed, bending down to pick up the electromagnetic field gauge she’d been given since she figured it’d be better to keep doing something than to do nothing.  They had a whole hour to just sit here and she was restless for all sorts of reasons, still mostly worried that Jim would remember that she’d blatantly not wanted to be paired with Roy.  She'd rather not explain.

Her bag shifted against the floor and kicked up dust that floated in the air around them, causing Jim to let out a sneeze that ripped a little too loudly through the quiet.  Pam ignored it, consciously trying not to flinch in surprise, and then sighed, squinting down at the EMF detector to find the button Vince had showed her that would turn it on.

“Thanks,” Jim mumbled. 

She sniffed.

“For what?” she wondered distractedly, finally getting the thing to flick on and watching as it set itself.

“Didn’t you say ‘god bless you?’” he wondered and her stare flew to him, her hand freezing mid air as the EMF detector let out a loud, consistent buzz, the needle bouncing as high as it could go.  His brow furrowed as he looked down at the device and she felt her skin go pale.

“No,” she promised quietly, “I didn’t.”

They stared at each other for a while before something shifted in his expression and he jolted into action.

“Jim?” she questioned when he was halfway across the room.

“Wait here,” he told her and she almost got a protest out of her mouth before he was gone, leaving her there with her stupid EMF machine, which she’d turned off as soon as it had gone nuts, and her stupid tape recorder, which was still clicking away.  So she was just there to be scared to death all by herself. 

She tapped her foot and crossed her arms and tried not to “panic” as Vince had put it, although that seemed like a really great option at the moment.  Every creek made her breath catch and every shadow on the wall had her squinting to be sure it wasn’t…anything.  This place was full of something strange and electric and she almost expected one of the old beds to sail across the floor all by itself, or to melt into a puddle of liquid metal, or to evaporate right in front of her eyes.  She expected a tap on the shoulder by an invisible hand, or a whisper directly in her ear.  She held her breath almost the entire time Jim was gone, waiting for something she wouldn’t be able to explain.  Eventually she audibly inhaled and stared down at the tape recorder in concentration.

“I just want to say, for the record, that this never would’ve happened if I’d been partnered with Dwight,” she offered, trying desperately to crack a joke in the frightening and tension-filled atmosphere.  “And if there is someone here and you’re just trying to scare us…you should…”  she sighed and shook her head and decided to give up filling the silence. 

And that was when suddenly the silence decided to fill itself with a round of three knocks against the floor just to her left. 

She was motionless, holding her breath, and she listened as hard as she could for something else, footsteps or crying or humming, any of the things she’d read about on the paper, anything to give her some sign that that hadn't just been pipes or vents or whatever knocked against old wooden floorboards.  Anything to let her know that she should get the hell out of this room.

But nothing else happened.

And Jim was back in a few seconds with a resigned kind of look on his face, and she exhaled and figured maybe she'd just imagined that.  Maybe. 

God, half of her really wanted to yell at him for leaving her there, except that she figured he’d been just as terrified going wherever he’d gone as she’d been staying where she’d stayed.  He jogged the length of the room and sat down next to her, tossing her a shaky smile and tilting his head in confusion.

“I thought maybe it was Toby, but um,” he breathed, and she felt her nerves fray a little further, "they didn't hear me sneeze, so, I don't know."  He glanced at her, concerned, and offered a not-so-reassuring shrug.  "Maybe I imagined it," he told her. 

“Maybe," she muttered, and they sat there, quiet, breathing, waiting. 

Eventually he chuckled, wiping a hand down his face and looking almost embarrassed. 

“Wow that was...that really freaked me out," he admitted,  "I mean, I'm really freaked out.”

She pressed a hand to her chest and smiled at him, laughing, letting out the tension and adrenaline in that way that people did when they found out they weren't the only ones who were terrified.

“Oh my god,” she commented and he laughed, too, watching her, his eyes sweeping over her face and his hands reaching to push the sleeves of his long-sleeved t-shirt up to his elbows.  She told herself not to glance at his forearms in the low lighting and was unsuccessful.

“Seriously,” he breathed, “I thought I was going to cry like a girl.”  She grinned and shook her head as she made a show of picking up the tape recorder and holding it directly in front of her mouth.

“Let the record show,” she began, “that the sneeze incident is still unexplained, and also that Jim cried like a little girl,” she stated plainly and he waved his arms out in protest.

“What?!  No! I did not actually cry,” he argued, reaching out for the recorder but grabbing her wrist instead, pulling her hand toward him so that he could speak into the microphone.  “I didn’t actually cry,” he repeated and she was laughing and blushing and trying hard not to look like she liked the feel of his fingers wrapped around her skin or like she was distracted by how little she'd have to move her arm to get his lips against her hand.

“He cried like he had banana curls and a lollipop,” she amended and his mouth dropped open in impressed shock.  “And then there were kittens and rainbows and little sheep and ducks,” she added.

“No, there was none of that,” he retaliated.  She nodded sadly at him and relinquished her hold on the recorder, giving up because it was easier than pretending she couldn’t feel the sting of him.  “There was none of that,” he repeated right into the device and she chuckled, sitting back in the chair and feeling much less like the room was about to swallow her alive. 

Because at least she had Jim.

“So how’s Katy?” she asked, and the silence returned.  

And now that she'd killed the mood she figured that would start haunting her, too. 

Honestly she had no idea why she'd mentioned her...maybe she was testing him.  She hated that thought.  He placed the recorder on the floor in front of him and cleared his throat, suddenly seeming uncomfortable. 

“Katy is…fine,” he admitted.  She raised her eyebrows.

“Fine?” she repeated, and he offered a self-deprecating shrug.

“Whatever she’s ok.  We’ve only gone out a few times so I don’t really know,” he confessed.

“What do you like about her?” she asked, and after the words left her mouth she regretted them, thinking she sounded hollow or desperate or jealous, and she didn’t want to be any of those things.  He just stared at her for a little while with dark eyes and a certain kind of unnamable look on his face and she had to think hard about breathing.

“Um,” he eventually offered, quirking an eyebrow in confusion, “I don’t know.  I guess she’s nice, and she always laughs at my jokes,” he finished, shrugging again, his eyes fixed on her shoes like maybe he was avoiding looking at her face for some reason.

“Wow so you guys are serious,” she teased.  He huffed a half-laugh that seemed more insulted than anything else and she thought she was acting like an idiot.  She blamed this place. 

“Uh well I mean we aren’t engaged or anything, so no not really,” he countered, his words rushed, maybe annoyed.  She nodded at him, feeling hurt for some reason, and wondering why she’d brought this topic up. 

"Sorry," she offered quietly and she wasn't really even sure why she was apologizing, what she was sorry for, but she was sure it could be applied to quite a few things, so she let the word hang in the air. 

"No, it's...Katy is pretty.  She's fun.  It isn't serious, we've gone out twice, I like her fine.  Happy?" he wondered quietly and she pierced him with her eyes for a second before shrugging, because...she wasn't sure what he was really asking her.  She was confused.  “How’s Roy?” he spat and she could tell by the look in his eye that she’d been right.  He was definitely annoyed.

“Good,” she told him, but then she shook her head quickly and breathed out the word “Fine," and he froze for a second, stared at her, watched her like he could hear her thoughts if he listened hard enough.  He took a deep kind of swim in the pool of her eyes before cracking a half smile, apparently decoding something about her words.  She felt her stomach flip because she wasn’t sure she meant whatever he thought he heard.  Then again, she and Roy had broken up, so she guessed maybe she did mean whatever it was.

“Did you like Halloween as a kid?” he asked, changing the subject, thankfully, “I bet you dressed up like a painter every year.”  She sucked air in through her teeth and tipped her head at him affectionately.

“Uh, no, not every year.  A few years, maybe,” she agreed, “but not every year.  Yeah, I mean, I liked it ok.  My sisters and I would go out trick-or-treating together.  It was never my favorite holiday or anything, though.  You?” she wondered.  He tossed her a questioning expression and leaned forward in his chair, and she thought he looked even more handsome in the dark than he usually did.

“Hated it,” he spat, “free candy, costumes, staying up late.  Awful.  I mean come on, kids hate that kind of thing,” he told her, and she laughed. 

And she liked him.

And she was still afraid.

Somebody was screaming bloody murder.

Like screams tearing out into the air and piercing the ears of anybody within a ten mile radius.  Pam could feel tears in her eyes and she watched Jim waiting for some sign of what they should do, where they should run to, because she was definitely planning on running.

He was frozen in space with wide eyes, looking at her and listening because they couldn’t not listen.  It was like a horror movie had donated its soundtrack to this place and somebody had looped it on an awful repeat of the bloodiest scene. 

Screaming. 

Within seconds the door to the east holding room was crowded with Phyllis and Toby, looking in at them like they’d seen Lucifer himself, and Jim shrugged at them, his eyes still wide like quarters, and Toby scratched at his forehead, distressed.

“What should we do?” he wondered, his voice louder than Pam had ever heard it.  Jim heaved a loud, shaking, frightened sigh and stood up, reaching out to grab her forearm and pull her along with him.  Phyllis landed at her side and looped an arm through hers nervously as another scream echoed against the empty rooms.  It had gone on too long at this point, she thought, they either had to do something or get out of there.  She was opting for getting out.

“This is so messed up,” Jim muttered, stepping out into the hallway and taking a look both ways like there would just be some sign telling him what was going on. 

“It sounds so terrible,” Phyllis responded and Pam felt herself agreeing when another lengthy scream hit her ears.  Terrified, they all just stood there together, listening, waiting, and thinking none-too-clearly about what exactly the course of action was when dealing with disembodied screams.  Goosebumps rose up along Pam’s skin and she felt her feet itching to pound against the floorboards despite the fact that they’d been instructed by Vince to do exactly the opposite.  She didn’t care.  She’d had enough of this.

Turning her head to inform Phyllis that she was going to make a run for central she opened her mouth and inhaled a hiccupping breath when, just as suddenly as the screaming had started, it stopped. 

Completely.

Silence was the only thing left to echo as they stared at each other and waited, holding their breath, expecting that at any moment another blood-curdling cry would shake the air around them. 

Instead Jim’s walkie-talkie crackled to life and he jumped almost a foot in surprise.

“Vince to Jim,” the voice muttered unhappily.

“This is Jim,” Jim responded, shaky and unsure, seeming relieved to be hearing the voice of the only professional in the building.  “We’ve been hearing some crazy stuff over here, screaming and stuff, over,” Jim offered and Pam felt her head nodding in encouragement.  Screaming and stuff didn’t really explain what it was they’d been hearing.  More like horrible, gut-wrenching, tear-inducing screaming and stuff.

“Yeah,” Vince responded, still sounding annoyed and bored, and Pam tilted her head in confusion.  Wasn’t he supposed to be into this kind of thing?  Excited by blood-curdling cries and bleeding walls and all of that? She heard him sigh into the walkie-talkie and she frowned. “That was Kelly,” he informed them.

Oh.

Of course it was…

“Wow,” Jim muttered, bending over to plant his hands against his knees, his breath heaving in and out of his lungs in relief.

“I should’ve known that,” Toby muttered, shaking his head and almost visibly deflating.  Phyllis dropped Pam’s arm and covered her mouth with both hands, hiding what Pam was almost sure was a smile, but Pam didn’t really feel like smiling.  Kelly.  Kelly was the one screaming bloody murder and scaring the living crap out of them.  That…was annoying.

“We’re going to have to make a few adjustments, so we need everybody at central ASAP.  Bring your equipment.  Over,” he informed them.  Jim heaved a different kind of sigh, more annoyed and less frightened, and shot Pam a telling look that he was getting tired of all of this.  She offered him a half smile and patted his arm affectionately as he walked by her to go gather their stuff, and she wondered for the thousandth time what was wrong with her.

She should be telling him all sorts of things.

Instead she hadn’t told him anything even when he asked her specifically about Roy.  But the problem was she was terrified of that conversation.  Terrified that he wouldn’t react the way that she hoped he would.  Terrified that he’d ask her what happened, and if she mustered the courage to explain it to him he would say something about Katy or something about friendship and she would look like a complete idiot. 

It had been on the tip of her tongue countless times over the past three days, but each time something stopped her.  This fear of hers stopped her.

This most recent time though Kelly’s fear stopped her, so she didn’t feel quite as guilty about that.

Jim reappeared at her side with their bags and coats and gestured that they should get going and, she had to admit, she couldn’t get out of that holding room fast enough.  Even if the screams had been Kelly, that didn’t change the fact that somebody had blessed Jim’s sneeze about a half hour earlier.  She wasn’t exactly looking forward to the rest of the evening and she hoped this would all be over sometime before midnight. 

Central was full of their coworkers and she felt something inside of her loosening because there was always a kind of safety in numbers.  There was certainly some kind of safety with Vince, for some reason, so she figured she could relax for the few minutes that they were here.

“Hurry up,” Vince barked, and they hustled down the hall to the lobby, crowding around the folding table Vince had set up to get a better look at the screaming banshee herself, who was huddled in a chair and looking sheepish. 

“Kelly, are you ok?” Pam asked, and Kelly nodded emphatically waving her off.

“Kelly thought she saw a ghost, which turned out to be a mouse, which apparently scares her more than the paranormal,” Oscar offered dryly. 

“We couldn’t shut her up, sorry guys,” Meredith apologized.  They all muttered reassurances that it wasn’t a big deal and waved hands and shook heads even though really Pam wanted to punch Kelly right in her scream-happy mouth.  Vince cleared his throat to break up the pleasantries.

“Listen I’m going to stay here with Kelly because otherwise I’ll be in violation of my contract, so that means Dwight will need a new group.  We’ll just make one group of three and I’ll plan to stay here with Kelly for the rest of the evening.  Sound good?”  Vince questioned, despite the fact that really he expected no arguments.  “Ok so Dwight, who would you like to…?”

“We’ll take him,” Jim spat, a little too loudly.  Pam’s head snapped to look at him in surprise, and he only glanced at her briefly, but she knew that look. 

“Ok great.  Dwight, Jim, and Pam, you head to exam room 4.  Toby and Phyllis take exam room 7, Roy and Darryl can head to the east holding room, Mike and Ryan take the west hallway, Creed and Kevin take the east hallway, and everybody else stays here with me,” Vince decided firmly and there was no arguing with him, despite the look of total aggravation on Dwight’s face that made Pam have to hide a smile.

“Hey, where’s Stanley?” she wondered distractedly and Oscar rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“He went home before we even started,” he explained and she nodded, unsurprised.  A hand appeared at her elbow and she felt Jim’s breath fan across her ear and she thought about things that brought a blush to her cheeks.

“So I’m thinking somebody gets possessed?” he whispered and she was unsuccessful at holding in her laughter this time, chuckling against his shoulder as quietly as she could.

“What’s going on here?” Dwight questioned.  Jim cleared his throat and patted her on the back.

“Pam is very frightened, Dwight.  You know how females can be,” he offered and Pam rolled her eyes and gently smacked his back in silent retort.  Dwight hummed his understanding.

“Have you tried singing to her?” he wondered and Jim inhaled a deep breath.

“I thought I’d leave that to you.”  

Exam room 4 was too small for the three of them.  

It was too cramped for Pam to uncross her arms and too cramped for Jim to move from his spot leaning against the doorframe.  It was so cramped, in fact, that Jim was motivated (in a fit of claustrophobia) to attempt to open the two doors inside the room and find some extra space.  They were only poorly-constructed closets, though, and so the threshold became Jim’s permanent domain for the hour to come.

Pam sighed and attempted pointlessly to tune out the creepy German melody coming from her left.

“Hey Dwight,” Jim tried, and blessedly the singing ceased for a moment, “we should probably get to work, right?” he suggested flatly, swinging the beam of his flashlight to shine directly into Dwight’s squinting eyes.

“That depends,” he responded coolly, “Pam, are you well enough to investigate?”

She glared at Jim in the shadows and tried not to heave another sigh.

“I’m fine, Dwight,” she promised.  He nodded once and proceeded to open his black backpack, unveiling a range of equipment far more extensive than anything anybody else had been given.  “What’s all of that?” Pam wondered aloud.

"These are my weapons against the paranormal," Dwight answered curtly.

“Wow, Dwight, look at all of that ghost busting gear,” Jim commented taking a half step into the room and bending down low to take a closer look.

“Ghost hunting, Jim, not ghost busting.  Ghosts are masses of energy in space that would be impossible to, as you so ignorantly put it, bust,” he corrected, consonants crisp and facial expression bored.  “I hunt ghosts.  It is one of the many forms of hunting I have mastered over the years.”  Pam felt her eyebrows lifting up in amusement as she glanced over her shoulder at Jim, who was nodding like a schooled eight year old.

“Fascinating.  So, which ghost-buster-tool can I use?” he asked and Pam’s head swung back toward Dwight in an attempt to catch his furious facial expression, his lips tightening and his brow furrowing in a blatant show of anger.  He huffed and Pam stifled a laugh.

“Ghost hunting tool, and you may not use any of them.  These will be touched only by my own hands,” he promised them.

“Or the hands of ghosts, who are invisible,” Jim corrected and Dwight took a moment to look genuinely thoughtful.

“So, what do you have there?” Pam asked, waving a hand toward the bag in interest.

“K2 meters, an infrared camera, a thermal camera, my own EMF detectors, motion sensors, and dousing rods,” he listed off mechanically.  Jim hummed in interest.

“In case we’re standing on an energy line,” he assumed, sarcasm dripping from his tongue, and Pam felt her gaze sweep toward him in surprise.  He shrugged.  “Science channel.”

“Precisely, Jim.  Or in case someone or something would like to communicate.  My Grandvater Shrute has a very active spirit and prefers to communicate through dousing rods, floating orbs, and dreams.  Also the scent of manure seems to follow him around,” he informed Jim clinically and Pam watched as Jim squinted in thought, pretending to process and seriously consider that information. 

She let her stare drift across him as she wondered how often he wore jeans on the weekend, wondered whether he would take up the doorways in her house as perfectly as he seemed to here, wondered how he smelled right after a shower. 

Blinking she looked away and cleared her throat, watching with glazed eyes as Dwight began to unpack and assemble his extravagant hunting gear. 

She thought about how often Jim dreamed of Katy, as Dwight lined his pieces of equipment up in a clean-looking line.  She considered how Jim might speak on the phone to a girl he was dating and felt a blush stain her cheeks when she figured he would probably sound deep and gravelly, masculine, warm. 

God, she had to get it together or she was seriously worried she might panic like Kelly had, screaming out of pure frustration with herself for not having confessed her truths to him yet, for not having demanded he break this thing off with Katy and take Pam out instead. 

She was pathetic. 

Jim had a girlfriend and Pam was much-too-newly single to even be thinking the thoughts that she was.  She was pathetic and she was over-dramatic, but she was finding she couldn't quite help herself.

Dwight began sweeping the room with his thermal camera and Pam blinked in disinterest as silence settled among them. She could feel Jim’s eyes on her face.  She could feel him watching her watch Dwight, and she was plagued with wondering what exactly he was looking for in the curve of her brow and the dip of her cheek.  She licked her lips and she took a quick glance at her shoes before turning to look over her right shoulder at the expression he was wearing. 

He was serious, watching her in the dim glow of the flashlight.  He was sober and intense, and she felt herself holding his stare for a second too long before looking away.

“How’s it going, Dwight?” she whispered, feigning curiosity. 

“Excellent,” he informed her, “I’m getting a very thorough base reading for this room and…”

“Oh my god,” Jim breathed. 

For a horrifying second, Pam was full of fear that he’d finally figured out that the ring on her finger had only been for show the past three days. 

“What?” Dwight wondered, his eyes still on his thermal sweep.

“I don’t…I think there’s someone…” Jim stuttered and Pam turned to him, relieved that he wasn’t looking at her anymore but was instead staring down the hallway in shock.  Except as that began to sink in she became a different kind of nervous and wondered if this was the part of the night where she would see something she didn’t really want to see. Ghosts.  Apparitions.  Whatever.

“What are you talking about?” Dwight asked, much more interested, pushing past Pam to get to Jim.

“Hello?” Jim called out, and Pam hid a smile behind her hand as she realized what was going on because he had a way of making these tricks seem so real, every time.  “Hey wait!” he shouted, taking off down the hallway with Dwight right on his heels. 

Grateful for the second alone, Pam tried to catch her breath. 

She stared down at the floor and wondered for the thousandth time what the hell she was doing, thinking, feeling.  Her teeth began to worry at her bottom lip in anxiousness.

She’d broken up with Roy because of Jim.

She’d said it to Roy, plain and simple and honest and real. 

She'd stated simply “I think I’m in love with him,” and watched as Roy’s face had fallen into something that looked like resignation and nothing that looked at all like surprise.  She’d told Roy the truth, but for some reason she was terrified of doing the same with Jim.  She was ridiculous, she thought angrily, and she was wasting her time all wrapped up in her own insecurities and confusion.  The clock seemed to be ticking, telling her that any day now Jim and Katy would show up someplace together and seem serious.  Any day now Pam would be all out of luck, and she wasn't all that sure what she was waiting for.

Courage, she guessed.

Fate.

“Hey, hurry we have like five seconds,” Jim whispered frantically, suddenly in front of her and grabbing her by the arm.  She inhaled and pretended she hadn’t just been thinking of him, her confusion more than obvious on her face.

“What are you…” she started, but the words died on her lips because he was shoving her into one of the two tiny closets. 

He was shoving her in and he was climbing in behind her as he pulled the door completely closed.  His chest was suddenly pressed tight against hers, like his hands were pressed tight against her waist.

And she couldn’t find the power to exhale.

“Don’t turn on your flashlight, it’ll show under the door,” he eventually whispered.  Time seemed to stand still around them and she could feel his breath fanning lightly against her cheek.  The rise and fall of his ribs against her hand was hypnotic and the subtle shifting of his knee shoved haphazardly between both of hers was…god. 

She couldn’t breathe at all.  

She couldn’t move. 

She couldn’t think straight and she couldn’t feel any of the fear she’d had before because suddenly all she knew was heat, and Jim, and wanting more of his body trapped in between her and the deep-shadowed wall.

She could feel things about him that she'd only really imagined and her eyes slid closed with the press of his palm against her shirt.

“I broke up with Roy,” she mumbled, her words full of air and pushing out from somewhere deep inside her stomach.  

And suddenly Jim was the one holding his breath.

And there was silence.

“What?”

It was more air against the skin of her face than actual sound and she couldn’t decide whether she resented their lack of light or was grateful for it.  His hands were still at her waist and she felt her own fingers flex against his ribcage involuntarily, trying to grab onto something or trying to feel the right thing to say like it was written somewhere on his t-shirt.  She wondered if he’d considered the fact that they’d have to be wrapped around each other to fit into this closet when he’d concocted his plan.  She figured probably not.

“Roy isn't…” she started, her eyes starting to adjust to the blackness and her gaze fixing itself down low to stare at his torso, his collar, his shoulders…anything but his face and how he might be looking at her now with this confession pouring out of her mouth haphazardly and lacking any real kind of grace.  She thought she’d been about to say that Roy wasn’t the person she wanted to be with, and instead she bit her tongue.  “It’s over,” she mumbled instead.  Jim’s head dipped down lower, his fingers starting to curl against her in what almost felt like a different kind of way, and her breath caught audibly in her throat, her thoughts harshly instructing herself that she must be imagining things.

“You’re still wearing your ring,” he pointed out quietly, his tone almost unwilling to believe her, shocked, startled by the revelation that she was a different kind of woman now.  Single. 

“It’s only been three days, we haven’t told anybody,” she explained.  He nodded and she felt the question coming before he even opened his mouth, felt the way her stomach tightened and her face went pale in anticipation of having to answer him, having to tell him the truth about things.

“What happened?”

She sniffed, blinking, squinting down at her engagement ring and wondering why she hadn’t scripted this out for herself. 

He said her name, “Pam,” and her eyes were pulled to his like magnets, meeting his stare because she couldn’t help herself, and he looked full of concern for her.  Full of concern and understanding and all of the things she’d seen in him every day that had forced her to wonder if she had the strength to change her own future.

“We fought,” she told him honestly, and he nodded again, his thumb involuntarily sweeping along the dip of her waist, probablyng meaning to comfort but instead making her skin tingle and hum with the feel of it.  “About, um,” she muttered, distracted, afraid, “about a lot of things,” she finished.  His head tilted like if he moved it in just the right direction he’d be able to hear her thoughts, and he waited.  She licked her lips and thought about time clicking past her.  “I mean, it was me,” she whispered, watching her hand move with his inhaling and exhaling, willing herself not to slide her palm against him the way she could feel herself wanting to, “It was my fault because I’m, um,” her tongue felt lazy and she lifted one side of her mouth in a half smile to try to dislodge her own dream-like state, “I’ve been thinking a lot about…other…” and then her hand stopped it’s rise and fall in front of her because he was holding his breath again.

“What?” he prodded, interest and care and gentle curiosity laced in his tone.  She sighed.

“Just other things,” she told him, “other…things.”

He stared at her, unblinking, unmoving, unsure.  She fed him eye contact for a moment and she gathered up her courage.

“When are you planning on seeing Katy again?” she asked and he blinked in surprised confusion.

“When am I…what?” he questioned, and the air crackled around her and she wondered if he could feel it.

“Katy.  I’m asking you about Katy,” she informed him, watching the shadows shift in the wrinkles of his shirt.  His head dipped down, closer to her, subtly but insistently trying to hear her better, to catch the things he seemed to be missing.  “I know we already talked about…um…but I just, I need to know what you're...um...” she faltered because it suddenly seemed like every word she spoke and every breath she exhaled was somehow pulling his fingers tighter around her, every word was somehow tugging at his hands and before she could really register the crawl of them they were fixed low on her back and she was pressed much too close against him.

“Why?” he breathed and she could feel it on her skin and she was full of confusion, full of surprise that control over the situation seemed to be shifting and she was somehow losing her hold on it. 

“Because I broke up with Roy,” she offered, dazed, drowning in the clutching of his fingers and the look she saw in his eye now that was maybe something like realization, recognition, relief.  She lost her battle over her hand and sighed as it swept once against the plains of his chest.  “I mean,” she whispered, “I broke up with Roy because you…” and the word seemed to trigger a reaction in him making his knee shift between her legs and his flashlight press hard against the slope of her spine.  It was like every second that slid past them he pulled her a half an inch closer than she had been before, “…you…” she choked, and she watched as his eyes roamed her face, studying, memorizing, and she never thought she would get to see him looking like this, down at her, hungry, hanging on her words and soaking up her honesty.  “I broke up with Roy because of you,” she finally pieced together, and before the pronoun that she thought might forever belong to him, now, had slipped from her tongue for the second time his mouth came down on her.  He breathed out onto her lips and his knee pushed deep between her legs and their flashlights hit the ground and shuddered there, imitating the way her bones were vibrating beneath her skin.

His tongue slipped into her mouth and she thought she maybe might die. 

Fingers tightened until both of them had fists full of shirt and she let her head fall back on her neck, giving into the way he was draped over her and wrapped around her and pushing inside of her like the space there had belonged to him in the first place.  He exhaled her name and she felt it settle somewhere deep until that place low in her belly pulsed with remembering the way those three letters had sounded when he breathed them out onto her own lips.  She felt her hips slip toward him and his hand drifted lower, deliciously sliding beneath the waistband of her jeans and hanging there, suspended against the place where her back curved into the body of her.  His mouth slowed down against hers and his breathing was hard in his lungs, pushing her hands back and forth between them.  She let herself taste his lower lip and she felt the rise and fall of the air.

“I told him,” she murmured, her words interrupted by the slant of his jaw and the things he was writing now with his mouth against her neck, “I told him about the way I accidentally kissed you at the Dundies,” she explained breathlessly and he went still, surprised, listening intently,  “About the way I kissed you and then how…I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to be with you…” even with her words hushed and barely audible against him she knew he heard every letter, every sound, because he breathed oh my god along the column of her throat and his hands moved like lightening to bury themselves in her hair. 

He breathed oh my god against her mouth and onto her tongue so that when she spoke it too, when she let those same words pour out of her because of the way his hips leaned into her and his thigh settled against her and her back hit the wall to give him leverage, it was like a volley, a toss of his own amazement back in his general direction.

He caught it and tossed it back when her hands slid down and nestled against his belt loops, her thumbs slipping south and brushing easy against the center of him.

He said oh my god and she hazily agreed.

He said “I’ve wanted you since we met,” lazy tongued and honest and she was grateful and she agreed.

He said “Pam,” and she heard “please” and so she obliged and her teeth scraped against his ear, demanding his attention so he would hear her when she told him yes and me too and all of the things they both needed to stay standing.

His fingers drifted low along the planes of her and settled on the seam of her jeans and a slice of white heat ripped through her until she cried out.  Her hips rotated almost of their own accord and her fingers tightened in his belt loops, pulling, dragging, pressing against him until she was breathless and blind and unable to think clearly.

And that was when the door to the closet slammed open and a flashlight beam brought the world back into focus.

“Jim, Pam,” Dwight spat, unhappy, his presence like a blast of very cold water, “Your behavior tonight has been highly inappropriate.”