Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.




Poor Richard’s wasn’t very busy this Tuesday night, and the Dunder Mifflin Scranton crowd made up most of their patrons. They had all been forced to attend a useless seminar on Customer Service Ethics given by the corporate HR rep this afternoon, and subsequently decided to drown their boredom collectively at Poor Richard’s.

It seemed to be working. Kevin and Andy were absorbed in a conversation about the merits of tall tight ends on their fantasy football teams. Oscar was explaining the concept and trading of “futures” to a very interested Stanley, and Kelly, Phyllis and Michael were discussing women’s high heels. Jim noticed that a quiet, withdrawn Ryan was on round three while everyone else nursed their first drink.

Jim was antsy. It was Tuesday, and Pam was coming home from New York this Saturday. He knew the exact number of hours until he would leave for New York to help her move back home into his apartment, and they couldn’t pass fast enough for him. No - their apartment, he corrected himself with a grin. The whole long distance relationship thing had been much, much tougher than he had imagined, but he’d kept his cool and tried to be supportive in every way he knew how.

Pam had been encouraged by professors and friends alike to stay in New York, but when she decided she wanted to come home, he was undeniably relieved. Of course he hadn’t let on to her, but he thought if they had had to spend much more time apart, he wasn’t sure how he would stand it.

Now that there was an end in sight, time seemed to stretch and stall beyond the limits of his patience. He could have sworn that it took ten minutes to get from 4:55 to 5:00 p. m. this very evening, for example.

Despite being amused by Dwight as he weighed the merits of the automated robot vacuum, Jim’s mind kept wandering to how awesome it would be when he and Pam would really shared the same living space for the first time. Maybe he should celebrate.

Dwight was midsentence, and looked shocked when Jim suddenly stood.

He cleared this throat loudly.” May I have everybody’s attention please? I wanted to point out that Pam is coming back to Scranton this Saturday, which makes me very happy, so the next round is on me.”

Creed asked an unmoved Ryan, “Is that the one he’s engaged to?” Ryan nodded, but didn’t join the others as they gave a cheer and lifted their glasses in honor of the return of Pam.

As the group became more lubricated, the volume went up, and Jim almost missed hearing his phone when the call came. He pulled his phone from his pocket and couldn’t suppress a huge smile when he saw the familiar number.

“Hey!” he said brightly.

“Jim,” came the answer in a hushed, anxious tone, and he immediately knew something wasn’t right.
“What’s wrong Pam?”

“I think somebody is following me.”

“What? Where are you? What’s going on?”

“I’m walking down the street. I’m on my way to a subway stop so I can get back to the dorm and I think somebody’s following me.”

“You’re alone? What. . .”

Just then Kelly noticed Jim on the phone. “Is that Pam?” she screeched excitedly.

“Shut up, Kelly, “ he barked viciously, leaving her open mouthed and hurt, and he walked toward the door rapidly without explanation.

“Wait, I’m going outside, there’s too much noise in here.” His heart raced as he burst out the door and into the parking lot.

“Now I can hear, you still there?” he said as he paced back and forth in the parking lot.

“Yes, I’m alone.” Jim could hear the fear in her voice. ”A group of us went to the museum this afternoon – it was the last time I’ll get to go since I’m coming home. They went out for drinks but I still have some work to do so I headed back by myself. The subway entrance was closed down for some reason, so I figured I’d just walk to another stop.

It felt funny even when I was leaving the museum, but now I’m sure. He’s maybe a block back. I never get a good look, every time I glance back, he disappears into a shadow or a doorway. I’m kind of freaking out, Jim.”

What were you thinking! Why are you alone in the dark on the streets of New York? He wanted to shout, but he knew this would not be productive. She hadn’t meant to get in this situation. Why aren’t you here in Scranton with me?

“Aren’t there any cabs? Stop one and tell them you want to go to a police station.” Everytime he'd been to New York the cabs seemed to be plentiful.

“No, this is a quiet street, there’s hardly any traffic right now. There’s nobody here, that’s the problem.”

“Do you see an open store you can duck into?” Anywhere there were other people, he thought.

“There’s not much open in this area right now. It’s mostly residential and day businesses.”

“Keep in the light, try to find some people, and look for an open business or a lobby you can get into.” Like she couldn't think of that herself.

“Okay.”

“It’ll be okay, just find someplace with people.” He willed his voice to stay calm, but he was shaking.

“Hey, I think I see a little market open up the street a couple of blocks.”

“Good. Keep going. Do you still see him?”

“Yes, when I just looked back he disappeared into a shadowy place. Hee’s still a block back.”

“Just keep walking, quickly, but don’t look like you’re making a break. We don’t want him to think he needs to hurry.” C'mon Pam, get to the store.

“Okay. Oh God.”

“What? What?”

“Nothing, I just can’t believe this is happening. I feel silly but I’m scared at the same time. This is creepy.”

“It’s okay, how far away is the market now?”

“Half a block.”

“Good, get in that market.” He continued to pace the parking lot. He hadn’t worn his coat outside and he could see his own breath as he talked.

“Okay, I’m in the market. There’s one guy at the checkout counter, that’s it.”

“Great. Can you call a cab from there?”

“I don’t have enough money, Jim. I’ve got maybe three dollars. I’m a long way from Pratt.“

“The cab driver could wait for you to go up to your room and get the fare, couldn’t he?”

“I don’t have any money in my room either.” Jesus Pam, how were you going to eat?

He took a few deep frosty breaths to quell his frustration. “Okay, can you stop at an ATM on the way?”

“I didn’t bring my bank card, I didn’t think I’d need it.” Her voice was beginning to crack.

“Pam, Pam, it’s okay. We’ll figure this out.”

“I can’t stay in this market all night. The cashier is already looking at me funny.”

There had to be other options. Think, you idiot! Jim chastised himself. Wait, there was another option, and it would have been a lot harder to say if he hadn’t been so scared for Pam.

“Pam, do you have Ar . . .Alex’s phone number?”

He could hear the surprise in her voice as she answered, “Yes.”

“Call him and ask him to take a cab and come and get you, and tell him you’ll pay him back tomorrow.” Come save my fiance, art boy, because I'm helpless here, he thought bitterly.

“I. . .maybe I’m imagining this whole thing.”

“Pam, please do this.” He paused. “For me. I just want you safe as soon as possible.”

“Okay,” she said reluctantly.

“Got the address?”

“Yes, close enough. Jim, I’m going to need to hang up. I’ll call Alex and then I’ll call you back.”

This was going to be difficult. “Okay. Just don’t leave that market.”

“I won’t.”

“It’ll be okay, Pam. Call Alex." It shouldn't have hurt him that much to say that, he knew. "Bye.”

Jim was shivering as he ducked back inside the door of Poor Richard’s. He shifted from foot to foot, staring at his phone, waiting for her call back. He could feel Ryan’s eyes on him, and he glanced up to meet his stare.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.



Jim jumped when the phone rang in spite of himself, and stepped back outside as he answered.

“Pam?” He held his breath until he heard her voice.

“I got in touch with Alex, Jim. He’s going to come and get me, like you said, and go back to the dorm.”

Jim said a silent prayer of thanks. “Great. You’re still in the market there?”

“Yeah, I’ll stay here. I need to get off the phone in case he can’t find it, though.”

“Oh, right. Okay. Call me as soon as he gets there, please?”

“I will.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.” And with that, the phone went silent.

Jim went back in and parked himself right inside the door, but he couldn’t stand still. He shifted, he rubbed his hand through his hair, he bounced one leg against the floor. Half an hour ago he was irritated that it would be three days until Pam came home. Now he would be delighted if he could just know she was in a cab with Art Boy in New York City. Things changed fast, didn't they?

Ryan stood up and walked out toward Jim. “Jim, what’s going on, man?” Ryan asked, and took a big pull on his beer.

“Oh, it’s uh, Pam. She thought somebody was following her, “ he blurted out, immediately regretting being so forthcoming with Ryan.

“Wow, that’s not good. New York can be a scary place. I saw a lot of weird stuff happen there.” Ryan acknowledged. “Too bad you aren’t there to take care of her.”

“Yeah, “ was all Jim could manage through gritted teeth.

“If she thinks she has a stalker or something she should report it. Maybe they can trace calls and stuff.”

“This is a one time thing.” Pam, Pam, please call.

“Oh, well, that’s good. Pam’s a nice girl, I’d hate to think of her being in some kind of real danger,” Ryan let his words fall slowly, “ there by herself, in the city, being followed or getting weird phone calls and things.”

Jim was seriously thinking about taking a swing at the smarmy little bastard when the phone rang. He jumped, mumbled, “Gotta go, “ to Ryan, and headed out the door.

“Pam?”

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m in the cab with Alex, we’re headed to Pratt. Everything’s okay.”

Jim was embarrassed that his knees felt weak and he propped himself against the exterior brick wall of Poor Richard’s. “Great. That was weird, Pam. Call me when you get to your room?”

“Yeah, I will.” She paused. “Hey, thanks, you really helped.”

“No, Alex really helped.” He, on the other hand, had stood around feeling pretty damn useless.

“Jim?” she said, exasperated now.

“Call me when you get there, please?”

“Okay.”

He set his phone on vibrate, snapped it shut, and slipped it into his pocket. Jim walked back into the bar and went to settle his tab with Roger, who was tending bar tonight. He had to get home so he could decompensate in private, he thought grimly.

While he waited for Roger to run the card, Jim looked around the room. Kelly was roasting him with her glare. Crap, he had told her to shut up, hadn’t he? After he signed the bill, he walked over to her. Ryan was standing near her and turned toward them to listen.

“Hey, Kelly, I’m really sorry. I got a call from Pam (she was terrified) and I couldn’t hear, and it was kind of urgent. (I was scared shitless.) I apologize, I was rude.

“It’s okay, Ryan told me she might have a stalker. Just like a real celebrity. Did she get scary phone calls?”

“What phone calls?”

“Ryan said stalkers always call their victims.”

Jim shot a look at Ryan. “No Kelly, she hasn’t gotten any phone calls. This was a one time thing, and she’s safe now.”

“Well, that’s good. “ Kelly looked at Ryan. “I was kind of hoping she’d want to stay in New York a little longer.”

Jim sighed and shook his head. “Nope, she’s coming home Saturday.” If I can keep myself from going to get her tonight.

Jim raised his voice, “Night gang, I have to head out. See you in the morning.” Most of them hadn’t even noticed he’d been gone. He glowered at Ryan without speaking before he turned to walk out to a smattering of thanks:
“’Night Jim, thanks for the beer.” “Tomorrow, man.” “You’ll be sorry you don’t have a autosweeper when you get home to that dirty floor, Jim.”

Her call came just as he was parking his car at his apartment.

“Hey.”

“Pam?” He tried not to sound too anxious.

“I’m back in my room at Pratt. Everything’s fine. I’ll get money tomorrow and pay Alex back. It was $28. It didn’t take him long to get to the market, he wasn’t far away.”

“Guess I owe him a big thank you,” Jim said as he unlocked his apartment door and walked in. He headed straight to the cabinet for a bottle of scotch.

“Oh Jim, he means well. He’s nice.”

“I know, I know. And I do owe him.” Jim dumped his bag and coat on the chair and poured himself a generous drink while he held the phone to his ear with his shoulder. He took a deep gulp from the glass and continued. “So, I’ll state the obvious. Please don’t go anywhere alone anymore.”

“I won’t. I didn’t mean to tonight.”

“Wow, “ he said as he sat on the couch, taking stock. He felt the liquor burn on the way down as he tried to calm himself. “How weird was that, anyway?”

“Really weird.” Pam stopped, but Jim could tell she wanted to go on.

“What?”

“Jim.” She let another moment of silence go by before she continued. “I’ve been getting these. . .these calls at night.”

“What calls?” he sat up, suddenly alert again.

“I don’t know. Just calls. Sort of 'heavy breathing' type calls. She said hesitantly. “They never talk. They just call and hang up a few seconds after I answer.”

“How long has this been happening?”

“A couple of weeks. Not too many times, maybe six or seven."

“Pam,” he said way too loudly.”Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Jim, “ she said, on the verge of tears again. “Don’t yell at me. I’m sorry, I didn’t think much about it. It was sort of pranky, probably some kids. I didn’t want to worry you. I’m always with people here anyway.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, forcing himself to calm down. “I’m just upset. I just want you to be safe.”

“I know, “ she said in a calmer tone. “I didn’t make much of it. I’m coming home Saturday, after all.”

“Did you get the number?” he asked.

“No, it’s always on my room line. And I have to answer that because it might be one of the residents. There’s no caller ID.”

“Pam, I think you should report this in the morning.”

“Ummm”

“Yes.”

“They’re gonna think I’m nuts.”

“No, there are laws against phone harassment. They can trace the calls,” he assured her, his conversation with Ryan fresh in his mind. Now that he thought about it, why had Ryan even mentioned phone calls?

“I’ll be home by the time they get that done.”

“Just the same, I think you ought to report it.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Pam, I can’t wait until Saturday," he allowed himself to say.

“Me neither. Hey, it’s after nine. I’ve got to go, I’ll be up all night finishing this project if I don’t. And don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere else tonight.”

He managed a smile in spite of everything. “Good.” Should he tell her how badly she’d scared him tonight, probably not. Instead he said, “I wish I could hug you, it would make me feel better.”

“Me, too. Saturday?”

“Definitely. So you’re going to report this in the morning?” he said for emphasis.

“Yes, I’ll call you, but it will probably be about noon. I have to get this project turned in.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Thanks, Jim. I don’t know what I would have done without you. You helped.”

“Not much.” He mumbled. “Alex helped.”

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing. Get working on that project Pam.”

“Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

Jim walked to the kitchen and poured himself a double. He ran a hand over his face and exhaled deeply. Jesus, what a night. He took a big swallow and wondered how he was going to get to sleep.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.






Andy was the first person Jim saw at the office the next morning. “Wow, what happened to you, Tuna?” he asked in his annoyingly cheerful way. “Must have continued that celebration at home. Beer battered tuna?” Andy pursed his lips and opened and closed them like a fish.

Jim mumbled a short , “Nope, couldn’t sleep,” and went straight to the kitchen to find coffee. The truth was, he hadn’t gotten much sleep, but he’d been up thinking rather than drinking. He’d come up with a few questions he needed answers for, and he intended to get them this morning.

As various other people filtered in and out of the kitchen, they glanced at him and simply shook their heads. Let them think I’m hung over, he thought. He didn’t want any discussions right now.

Finally Kelly bounced in and, of course, wasn’t deterred at all. “Jim, wow you look bad, did you keep drinking last night?” She continued without waiting for an answer. “That whole stalker thing must have been scary for Pam, especially since you’re not around. In New York I mean. Ryan totally told me all about it. So, what happened?”

“Kelly, I’d rather not discuss this right now, okay? Pam’s fine. Is Ryan here yet?” Jim kept his tone unemotional.

“Nope, not yet. Oooh, I can’t wait.” She squealed and left abruptly.

A couple of minutes before nine, he went to his desk without attracting any attention and sat at his desk, readying his computer for work like any other day. Ryan showed up about fifteen minutes late and settled in at the reception desk. Seconds later Kelly walked over to wish him an enthusiastic “Good morning” and he responded with a glance and a hesitant, “Hi, Kelly.”

Jim waited until Dwight finished a client call and then asked him quietly, “Dwight, since you’re a volunteer deputy sheriff of Lackawanna County, I’d like to ask for your help this morning.”

“Stop making fun of me, Jim,” he said matter of factly. “Besides, why would you need assistance today?”

“I’m serious, Dwight. I’m asking you to do me a favor.”

Dwight cocked his head. The look on Jim’s face must have been sincere enough.

“You’re serious,” he stated.

“Yes.”

“What do you want me to do?” Dwight asked, still a little suspicious.

“I want you to maintain order.”

“What?”

“Do you still have that mace? Like the stuff you used on Roy that time?”

Dwight immediately went into “defensive” mode, looked left and right, and said, “No, of course not, why do you ask?”

“Dwight, I know you have it - I’m not going to get you in trouble or make you turn it in. I won’t tell HR. Besides, you might need it.”

“If I did have it, what would you want me to do?” Dwight asked, now intrigued.

“Dwight, I need to have a discussion with someone, and for the first time I can ever remember, I don’t trust myself not to resort to physical violence. So I want you to be present, and if I start at him, I want you to spray me”

“Spray you?” Dwight asked incredulously.

“Yes, I don’t need an assault charge on my record. How would that look to Pam’s parents, now that we’re engaged?”

“Good point.” Dwight considered. “You’re serious?” he asked one more time.

“Without a doubt.” The resolve in Jim’s voice must have been convincing.

“Okay, I will assist you. When and where?”

“In a few minutes. I’ll let you know, okay? It’ll be in the break room.”

“Very well.” Dwight looked suspiciously around the room to make sure no one was looking at him and then bent down and reached behind one of the legs on his desk to obtain a cylinder. He ripped off the tape and slipped it discreetly in his pants pocket. “Ready,” he nodded to assure Jim.

“Thanks, buddy.”

About half an hour later, everyone was settled into their work, and Jim turned to Dwight.

“Okay, now’s the time. I’m going to ask Ryan if we can talk in the break room.”

“Ryan?” Dwight seemed puzzled. “What’s this about?”

“You’ll see.”

Jim approached the reception desk to talk to Ryan, trying to control the distain in his voice. Jim wasn’t entirely sure he was right about this, but if he was, well, it wasn’t going to be pretty. “Hey Ryan, could I talk to you for a few minutes? In the break room maybe?”

“Talk? Sure, what about? Hey, did Pam get home okay last night.” Ryan asked. Jim thought he looked jittery.

“Yes, she did, “Jim answered. “I just want to ask you a few questions. About New York.”

“Okay, sure.” His eyes brightened. “Let me switch this to the machine.”

As Ryan came out from behind the desk, Jim nodded discreetly to Dwight, and he followed Jim and Ryan into the break room.

“What is this about, Jim? Man, you look a little rough. Too many last night?”

“Ryan, sit down there.”

“What?”

“Just sit down.” Jim’s tone was authoritative.

“What the…? Why?” he asked, but Ryan sat.

Jim sat at another table, several feet from him. Dwight positioned himself to the side of the tables.

“What is this? Why is Dwight here?“ Ryan was getting annoyed.

“Ryan, I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to give me some answers. The truth.”

“What are you talking about?” Ryan’s eyes darted around the room.

“Why did you think Pam was getting phone calls in New York?”

“This is ridiculous, you said she wasn’t,” Ryan accused.

“She was, she just hadn’t told me. And I think you knew she was. Did you have anything to do with those calls?”

Ryan’s hands rubbed his thighs nervously. “Why would you think that? That’s ridiculous,” he repeated without conviction.

“Ryan, let’s make sure you understand me. If you tell me the truth now, I won’t say another word to you about this, and I won’t get you into trouble for this, or. . . your other habits.”

“What are you implying?”

Jim’s self control was wearing thin. “Don’t bullshit me, Ryan, or I’ll have you in more trouble than you’ve ever dreamed possible, buddy. If you think Michael’s leering is bad, wait until you get to prison,” Jim said, his voice uncharacteristically venomous.

Ryan was now looking at Jim soberly, and he was clearly frightened. Good, Jim thought, you should be.

A glance at Dwight saw him surprised at Jim’s tone, and he’d drawn the mace from his pocket . He held it dutifully at the ready, aimed in Jim’s direction.

“What is Dwight doing?” Ryan asked with a frown.

“He’d going to spray me with mace if I try to get up and give you what you deserve.”

“What the…?”

“Answer the damn question, Ryan!”

Just then, Michael popped his head in the door and viewed the strange scene with curious surprise.

“Not your problem, Michael.” Jim warned decisively.

“Jimbo, what’s go. . .”

“Trust me, you should go away, Michael. You are not needed here now,” Dwight said emphatically. “I have this under control.”

Michael’s eyebrows raised, he quipped a short “okay” and pulled his head back out, walking away from the door.

Jim’s gaze had never left Ryan. “I am so serious, man. I know what your little habits are and I’ll make sure the authorities do, too, if you don’t talk to me right. now. What do you know about those phone calls? ”

Ryan sat, nervously weighing his options, and then started to talk. “Okay. I was in New York a couple of weeks ago with some of Troy’s friends.”

“You mean some of his other customers?”

Ryan shot him a dirty look, but continued. “We were kind of. . .drunk. . .and we were talking about women and art came up somehow and I told them about Pam. And they decided to call her.”

“You mean high. And why did you call her?”

“Roger was going to offer to pose nude for her.” Ryan was bouncing his leg nervously now. “That was not my idea, Jim. It got way out of hand. But he lost his nerve every time he called and ended up just hanging up. It was stupid but it was harmless.”

“Scaring someone with anonymous phone calls is not harmless.” Jim stated flatly, even as he felt a great urge to throttle Ryan.

The thought of some drugged up juvenile friend of Ryan’s causing Pam to be frightened had him seething. Ryan was clearly uncomfortable with the look Jim was giving him, and he was beginning to sweat. As well he should be, Jim thought. He looked up at Dwight, who was holding the mace still trained in his direction.

“How about the stalking?” Jim pressed.

“Now wait a minute, Jim, I have no idea about that.” Ryan looked genuinely scared now. “These guys were just. . .drunk and having some fun - they wouldn’t do anything like that. They don’t even know what she looks like.”

“How did you know her dorm room phone number?”

“I answer the phones here, Jim.”

“Let me get this straight. You put Pam’s dorm room telephone number in your cell phone while you were here answering phones?” he asked incredulously.

Ryan quickly looked down.

“You son of a bitch.” Jim started to get up but Dwight threatened him with the spray, and he forced himself to back down, gripping the table edge in anger.

“Honestly Jim, they weren’t the ones following Pam last night. They couldn’t have been. We didn’t have anything to do with that,” he said defensively.

Ryan looked again at Dwight, realized he was safe, and suddenly his tone changed. “She didn’t tell you about the phone calls, did she?”

Jim glanced downward now.

A smug smile spread over Ryan's face. “Why not, Jim? I thought you two were soul mates? But your girlfriend . . .”

“Fiancee.” Jim corrected.

“. . .whatever that term’s good for with Pam,” Ryan quipped.

Jim bristled, but Ryan continued defiantly. “So your fiancée who is in New York all by herself didn’t call you when she felt threatened, did she? Why is that? Because she knows you wouldn’t do anything? That you were pretty much useless? “

“She thought it was a stupid prank.” Jim defended himself. “And she was right.”

“So why didn’t she tell you? And there are a few other things, while we’re talking. Tell me Jim, did you ask her to marry you because you thought she might have too good of a time in New York if you didn’t? Don’t you realize that you’re weighing Pam down now just like Roy did before? Sure, you’re a step up from Roy, but come on, you’re not New York. She’s a nice girl and now she doesn’t want to hurt you, just like she didn’t want to hurt Roy. I bet she loves it there, doesn’t she? Tell me I’m wrong.”

“She likes art school.” Jim fought to keep his voice even.

“I’m sure she does. She likes all the amazing things that New York has to offer, and she likes being free of Scranton. I know what it’s like, I was there. So why don’t you let her make something of herself there? Because what’s she going to think in 15 years when she’s stuck as your wife in some little crummy house in Scranton? “ Ryan tossed his head back. He was on a roll. “Three snotty kids, a job she hates, and you’re still selling paper. And there is never quite enough money. She’s bored, she’s tired, and you’ll be the one that kept her from getting what she really wanted. How will it be then for her, Jim? Huh?”

“I think that’s enough, Ryan.”

Ryan ignored the comment and kept talking. “We didn’t have anything to do with following Pam last night, Jim, and I’m glad she’s okay. We may have done something stupid, but at least I’m not stupid enough to stay here for the rest of my life. Betcha Pam would love to have other plans, too. But you? You’ll be sitting here selling paper and eating ham sandwiches until you get old and gray. How’s that for the truth, Jim?”

Jim looked up only to see that Dwight looked furious, and was pointing the mace in Ryan’s direction now. Thanks Dwight, he thought silently.

“I know Pam better than you do, and we love each other. And I’ll expect you get your ass out there right now and call Pam, tell her about the phone calls, and apologize,” he said in a controlled voice. He would not let this little prick get to him.

“Okay.” Ryan shrugged. “I’m a big enough person to acknowledge my mistakes. Maybe you could learn from that. So I’ll call and this will be the end of all of this?” Ryan asked, obviously implying that Jim would not say anything about this or his other New York activities.

“That was the deal.”

With that, Ryan walked back out to the reception desk and picked up the phone.

“Thanks Dwight,” Jim said, and he was sure he saw a hint of compassion on Dwight’s face before he spoke.

“Nonsense, I was glad to do my duty. How did you know about Ryan?” Dwight asked.

“I didn’t.”

For a moment, Dwight looked at him with a new respect. Then he said, “A good provider and successful man protects his woman from harm, thus enhancing the survival of his offspring.” The moment was over.

“Okay then,” was all that Jim could muster.

“I’ll be at my desk if you need further assistance,” Dwight said, as he put the mace back in his pocket and left Jim sitting alone in the break room.

So… Jim thought, Ryan had been behind the phone calls, and Pam being followed home last night was some random event, and that was good news. Why don't I feel better?

Five minutes later his cell phone rang.

He glanced at the number and answered, “Hi.”

“Hey, Ryan Howard just called me and told me that some people he knew made those heavy breathing calls. How weird is that? Did you have anything to do with him apologizing?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll look forward to that story.” Jim could hear her smile. “That person last night must have been some creep who just followed me from the art museum. I feel a lot better now, so thanks, whatever you did. I’m going to go out Friday like I’d planned before and not worry about this. Then you can come Saturday morning to get me. Yay. Listen, I have to turn this project in in exactly three hours and I have two hours and fifty nine minutes worth of work left to do on it. So, I’ll call you right after my one o’clock, okay?”

“Okay.” Jim said quietly.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too,” he said, and wearily rose to return to his desk. He had paper to sell, and a lot to think about.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

It was Thursday afternoon, and Jim smiled when he saw the number of the caller on his cell phone.

“Hey,” he answered quickly.

“Hey, how’s it going?” He was delighted to hear her voice, but she sounded tired. She couldn’t have gotten much sleep this week with all the projects she’d been finishing, and their conversations had been necessarily short because she was so busy. It was very unsatisfying from his point of view, but he knew she needed to spend the time on that last push for her class work. That was why she was in New York, after all, he reminded himself.

“This is the longest Thursday of my life,” he answered truthfully. “ I cannot wait for it to be over.”

Despite Pam’s assurances to him that she really was ready to come home, Ryan’s words haunted him because he wondered how much truth there was in them. Was he holding her back? Was he dooming her to a dull life in Scranton? How would he know?

“So, I only have a minute, but I was wondering if you’d want to come up tomorrow night instead of Saturday morning?”

“I thought you were going out with your friends for a send off?” Pam had her last project due in at 1 pm on Friday, and she’d related a plan to him that she would sleep in the afternoon, spend a goodbye evening with some of her classmates, and he’d come up Saturday morning to help her move out. He’d managed to put his selfish wishes to see her sooner aside and encouraged her to go with them, because he knew she loved opportunities to go out and experience the city and he was sure she wanted to say goodbye to her friends.

“Alex has scored some seriously good invitations to a private event at the Museum of Modern Art, and there are a couple of extras. He offered an extra to me so I could ask you. I know this isn’t really your thing, but this museum is amazing and I want you to see some of it.”

His hesitation was audible in his silence. Alex had offered a ticket for him? Now that was a surprise.

“And I miss you, and I’d love for you to meet some of my friends. I’ve talked about you so much - they want to meet you.“

It was ridiculous, he thought, but he felt a flush of happiness that she’d talked about him to her friends. Jesus, Halpert, are you still in 7th grade?, he chastised himself. He contemplated the offer.
“Pam, I don’t know anything about art, really.“ The message in between the lines of his reply was that he didn’t want her to be embarrassed that her fiancé was clueless about art, and he didn’t want to look like an idiot, especially in front of Art Boy. And he knew that was silly, but he couldn’t deny the his feelings.

“And you never will if you don’t look at any.” Ouch.

“Are you sure you don’t want to. . .” he started.

“I want you to come or I wouldn’t have asked, stupid. Hang on.” He could hear her answer the door and say, “Yeah, I’ll be there down there in just a minute, Alex.”

Her words combined with the thought of seeing Pam one day earlier trumped his misgivings. Friday night was better than Saturday.

“I’m sorry, that was harsh.” She responded when she returned to their conversation. “What I mean is that I miss you and I want to show you off to my friends.”

That got a laugh out of him. “Okay, that’s an offer I can’t refuse, Beesly.”

“Good.” He could hear her smile over the phone. “We may go out for drinks before you get here, so I’ll leave you a parking pass and the invitation at my dorm reception desk, and then you can take a cab up to the museum.”

“But.”

“You can do that, Jim.”

“Yes m’am.”

“I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me, too. Hey, what do I wear?”

“Work clothes are fine.”

“Okay, got it. I’ll leave straight from work.”

“I’ll call you Friday after I turn in this last project.”

“It’s a date.” He paused. “I love you.”

“Love you, too. Friday.”

And she was gone.

What had he done? He was going to an art museum with her art friends? He needed his head examined. At least it gave him something to worry about the rest of the afternoon. . .

*************************

Friday afternoon at 4:45, Jim left the office to a round of cheers, thumbs up, and several, “We can’t wait for Pam to be back, either” well wishes. Except from Ryan, that is, who was spending his last day as receptionist at the Scranton branch of Dunder Mifflin.

As Jim lifted his coat from the rack, Ryan’s message was simple and dripped with sarcasm. “Yeah, Jim. Go rescue Pam in New York. And bring her back here. To Scranton. To you.” Jim suppressed his urge to respond, turned around, and walked out the door.

Jim arrived at Pam’s dorm about 7:30. He picked up the parking pass and a fancy invitation at the desk, left his car in the parking structure, and hailed a cab to the address she had given him. He called to let her know he was coming, and sure enough, when he arrived at the entrance, there she was.

God, she looked beautiful. Her hair was falling over her shoulders in a very disconcerting manner, and she was wearing a deep blue dress that accentuated her simple beauty. He wanted to take her into his arms and…well….his hardest task tonight was going to be pretending he was interested in the paintings, when all he really wanted to do was look at her. His gaze must have given him away, because the first thing she said was, “I know. Just a little while longer,” and she kissed him and ushered him into the museum. She took him to where all her friends were gathered in a semicircle, discussing a painting.

“Hey guys, this is Jim, my fiancé. Jim, this is Andrea, Ross, Keisha, Alice, Jorge, Kim, and Alex,” Pam introduced everyone in turn. “ They’ve gotten me through these three months.”

Jim shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with everyone and, surprisingly, he thought he had the names all straight. He’d been hearing about them the whole time from Pam, so the names were familiar and it was interesting to put them with faces. The group meandered through the museum, talking about exhibited pieces, and Jim tried to absorb the names of the artists and say as little as possible. He found some of the pieces amazing, some of them weird, and some of them just plain ridiculous, so he nodded a lot, and stole glances at Pam whenever possible.

Eventually the group fragmented a bit, and he found himself looking in awe at Van Gogh’s Starry Starry Night with Art Boy/Alex. This was Jim’s opportunity.

“Hey, Alex, I wanted to thank you for picking up Pam the other night. She was pretty spooked.”

Alex smiled. “No problem. I doubt there was much danger, but I knew she’d been getting those phone calls, and you can’t be too cautious. It’s a big city." Wait. She’d told Alex about the calls and not him? He hadn’t had time to process that when Alex took his opportunity as well.

“Jim, you know Pam is quite talented.”

“I think so.” Jim replied carefully.

“I know you all are engaged, and she is obviously in love with you, but I think she ought to consider staying in New York, I really do. I mean, could you work here in the city? I’m afraid if she leaves she’ll be too far away from New York to really stay connected to the art world, and her work will suffer. Surely you understand.”

“I don’t know.” Jim said noncommittally. “Of course, it’s up to Pam, and I’ll support whatever decisions she makes.”

“There is so much more opportunity here for her, if she's serious about her work.” Alex pushed harder. A little too hard, Jim thought.

“Yeah,” Jim said slowly as he shrugged his shoulders. “How do you suppose Van Gogh managed to paint this and not be in New York?” He took a second to enjoy the look on Alex’s face. “Wait, there aren’t even any stars in New York, are there?” Jim tried to keep at least a hint of humor in his voice. “Wouldn’t have happened.”

Alex cocked his head and his look told Jim that Alex had underestimated him. That made him happy. Just then Pam and Ross walked up, and Pam spoke. “I see you all are admiring Van Gogh.”

Alex and Jim exchanged glances and nodded, and then Alex spoke, “I'm headed to the drink table, Pam, would you like a drink?”

“Yes, that would be great if you’re going, Alex, thanks.”

“How about you, Jim?”

“No thanks, I’m good. Gotta keep my head clear so I can learn some stuff tonight,” he smiled and winked.

Alex raised an eyebrow as he gave Jim a wry look.
Oblivious to their exchange, Pam took his arm and smiled warmly, and any thoughts of Art Boy rapidly disappeared from Jim’s universe. Pam proceeded to talk about the painting, but Jim was thinking much less artistic thoughts. Meanwhile, he could hear the hushed tones behind him of Keisha and Alice speaking while standing in front of a nearby painting.

“Day-um,” said Keisha. “ I’d go back to Scranton wherethehellever too if I had that long tall drink of water to go home to. Umm, hmmm.”

Alice giggled, and said, “Yeah, I can’t say that I blame her either.”

Jim strained to hear more of the conversation, but just then Alex arrived with Pam’s drink.

“Here you go,” Alex said. Pam graciously accepted, grinned a mischievous grin, and chugged it.

Oh no, Jim thought wide eyed. A Dundee style Pam was not what he’d imagined when he’d planned the evening. Within minutes, Pam was, as she put it, feelin’ good. God, how many had she had before this? And on top of her fatigue?

“Hey Pam, what do you say we head back to the dorm.”

“But we haventh theen all the moth famoth art, Jim.”

“Ohhh. Kay. Did you wear a coat?”

“Yeth.” Of course she had. The September evening was too cool for just her sleeveless dress. How was he going to manage getting her coat and getting her out the door?

Seeing their predicament, Alex came to the rescue. “I’ll get it at the coat check and meet you at the door. Pam, give me your number.” Like a regular freaking white knight, this Alex. Was it fair that he was already tired of this guy? Jim didn't know.

“Othay. ‘ish hundred fiftheen.” Pam handed Alex the tag from her purse.

“Thanks,” Jim said and grabbed Pam’s arm to direct her toward the front door. “Nice to meet you all,” he waved to her friends’ understanding faces. He managed to get her coat on , get her out to the curb, and get her into a cab.

“Wow, that drink really hith me. I’m thorry Jim,” she apologized on the way back to the dorm.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassured her, and it was. He was just glad to be taking her home tomorrow. He felt so out of place here, so foreign. Thankfully they soon arrived at the dorm, and after a few attempts at trying to get her to put one foot in front of the other, Jim finally just hoisted her up into his arms. As he entered the lobby, the desk attendant shook her head and motioned him on up with a grin, and he carried her up to her room.

“Pam.” He tried to rouse her.”Pam!”

She opened her eyes and squinted. “Yeesh.”

“Where are your keys?”

“My purth…or my pocket? Dunno.” He sat her against the wall next to her room. Jim searched her purse in vain, and her coat pockets yielded no keys either.

They couldn’t spend the night in the hall.
“Back in a sec,” he said, and he went back downstairs to the desk.

“Pam Beesly can’t find her keys,” he pleaded with the clerk.

“This isn’t like Pam,” the clerk sighed as she dragged out the master key and walked up the stairs to open Pam’s door. She shook her head at Pam, who was now sound asleep on the hall floor. “You her fiancé?”

“That would be me,” he nodded with a grin.

“You take good care of her - she’s a nice person,” stated the clerk matter-of-factly as she headed back to her post.

“Thanks, I will.”

Jim picked Pam back up and laid her on the bed in her room. “Pam,” he said, as he gently shook her shoulder, but he could see it was no use. She wasn’t going to be talking any more tonight. He slipped off her shoes, pulled a blanket over her, and kissed the top of her head. “No more partying for you, young lady,” he mumbled, trying to see the humor in the situation.

Now what? He really wanted his toothbrush and something else to sleep in, but his duffle bag was still out in his car. He would go get them, he decided. He rummaged around in Pam’s purse again and found her keycard to the side door outside so he could just sneak back in, and stashed it in his pocket. He still found no room keys. Oh screw it, he thought, as Pam snored gently on the bed. He stuck one of her pumps in the crack of her room door, headed down the hall, down the stairs, and past the front desk. The clerk must be in the bathroom or something, Jim thought, because nobody was at the desk.

He made his way into the parking structure, had no trouble locating his Saab, and retrieved his bag from the back seat. He'd locked his car and turned to head back toward the dorm, when he saw a man across the parking lot waving frantically at him. “Look out!” Jim finally understood his words.

He turned to his left just enough to catch a glimpse of the baseball bat - right before it connected with his shoulder and the back of his head. He kept his wits just long enough to appreciate the irony of seeing stars in New York. And then there was blackness.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.




Pavement, he thought, it’s pavement . It felt rough and cold against his cheek, and he could hear someone talking, far, far away. The talking was getting closer, so Jim opened his eyes and tried to orient himself. He strained to gaze upward, and saw a man leaning over him. “Hey, are you all right?”

He moved sluggishly, limbs slow to obey, but finally managed to roll over. A pain in his ribs with every breath was unpleasantly distracting and his left shoulder was downright annoying. Need to get up He fought back a wave of nausea as he managed a sitting position, and tried to focus on the man’s words.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” the man asked with a concerned expression and a thick British accent.

“Yes,” Jim reassured him, not sure himself. “What happened?”

“Somebody came up behind you and hit you with a baseball bat.. Did he get your wallet, because I couldn’t see below the bonnet of the car here.”

“No, no, I didn’t bring it. Just came out to the car to get my stuff…” Jim felt his front pocket and was relieved to find his car keys and the dorm keycard still there.

The keycard. Pam!he thought, suddenly panicking. He’d left her door unlocked. He had to get back up there. He attempted to lift himself to his feet despite his body’s complaints, but wobbled out of control and had to sink back down.

“Hey, better stay there a minute. Do you want me to call the police, or an ambulance or something?”

“No,” Jim said, his head clearing. “No, thanks. He got away – he didn’t steal anything. What are they gonna do?”

“Well..” the man said dubiously. “Maybe you’re right, but bloody hell - that was brutal. He kept hitting you after you were down. There’s nobody after you or anything, is there?”

“Not that I know of. Was I out long?”

“No, I started toward you and he buggered right off. I was over here in a few seconds,” the man answered.

“Good,” Jim grunted. A sense of urgency got hold of him again. “I have to get back inside – see about Pam – my…. Are you going to be safe here?” Jim asked the man.

“Don’t worry, that fellow went flying and my car’s right here. Are you sure you don’t want the police?”

“Nope.” Jim had to get up and get back in to check on Pam. He gingerly rose to his feet, steadier than before. He felt something warm and sticky on his collar and reached a hand back to explore. There was a small cut on the back of his head where the bat had connected. His left shoulder hurt like hell and every time he took a breath his right lower ribs smarted, but other than that everything seemed to work. Nothing major, he thought willfully.

“Very well. But here’s my card, if you change your mind and need a witness or something. I’m an instructor here at Pratt, Gerald Taylor.”

“Ok,” Jim said gratefully and took the card. “Thanks. You saved my skin, man.”

“No problem. I’ll report this to the administration. It should be safer than this here. That could have been me,” he said with a smile. “Right. So here’s your things.” The man – Gerald wasn’t it? – handed him his duffle bag.

“Thanks again,” Jim managed as he began to walk toward the dorm, unsteady at first. His balance improved with each step, and soon he was moving rapidly. He reached the side door, used the key card, and flew up the steps, ribs be damned.

The dorm hall was silent and empty. He hurried down the hall to Pam’s door only to find the shoe was still right there in the door, just as he had left it. He let out a huge sigh of relief and slipped back into her room, locking the door behind him. She lay snoring softly on the bed, hair tousled about her on the pillow. She’d never looked more beautiful to him and in spite of everything, he paused for a moment to appreciate the sight.

He forced his thoughts back to the matters at hand. Thoroughly spooked, Jim knew that Pam’s keys were still unaccounted for so he took her desk chair and lodged it underneath her doorknob. Better safe than sorry. He carried his duffle into Pam’s tiny bathroom. Removing his blue shirt, he placed it in the sink to soak out the blood a brand new shirt, too he thought, annoyed at this small detail. He shed the rest of his work clothes and stood under the hot, cleansing shower for a very long time, trying to wash away his nagging apprehension.

Only then did he take stock of himself physically. He had a small cut on the back of his head that was barely oozing blood, a very sore upper left shoulder and some dicey ribs that were beginning to bruise already. Other than that, he seemed to be okay. It could have been worse, especially if that other guy hadn’t been in the parking lot. He was developing an intense dislike of New York City. It was a lot more fun in sixth grade, he thought, as he stepped from the shower. He dried off carefully and had to admit, he felt a lot better.

Clothed in flannel pants and a t-shirt, he emerged into Pam’s room, assessing the sleeping situation. He gently scooted her over on the small bed and eased himself down to lie beside her. Sleep was not going to come easily. His mind raced, trying to connect and make sense out of all the recent events, even as he tried in vain to get comfortable. Not enough space, too many sore spots. His solace came in that Pam lay warm and safe beside him, and that when they got home all this would just be a bad memory.

Was any of this crazy stuff connected, he wondered, or was he just paranoid? He knew the phone calls had been from Ryan and his supposedly harmless friends. Pam’s mysterious person in the shadows was still unexplained, but was it real or had she had a paranoid moment of her own? Her keys were gone now, but they might turn up in the morning when she was awake and alert. And he’d just been mugged in a big city parking lot in the middle of the night.

None of these events were necessarily related, he concluded. They were magnified in his mind and had developed into a threatening monster that was New York, he chided himself. Tomorrow morning he and Pam would be headed back to Scranton. Back home. Together. His eyes had finally drifted shut when a sound caused them to snap open again.

A key was slowly turning in Pam’s door lock.

Jim was instantly alert. He eased his bare feet onto the floor and he looked quickly around the room for a weapon. His eyes settled on Pam’s little lamp – it would have to do. As he quietly rose, he reached for the lamp and turned it upside down, slipping off the shade. The ball of the base would do some damage, he figured. As he tiptoed toward the door, there was pressure from the outside on the door, but the chair he’d put there kept it from opening. He positioned himself to the side of the door and lifted the globe, readying himself as the key still jiggled in the lock. Now! Jim pulled the chair away and jumped into the door frame in one fluid motion.

He nearly hit Alex, who threw up a hand in defense and backed up rapidly, looking shocked. “Wait, no! Jim, it’s me!” he yelped.

What the?" Jim dropped the lamp to his side.

“Easy, man. It’s me. I was just bringing . . . Pam dropped her keys in the museum. I found them and ran outside after you, but you had just pulled away in the taxi. There was nobody at the desk to leave them with so I was just going to drop them inside the door. I was trying not to….um….disturb…you…um…all,” he slowed to a stutter. “Figured you’d need them.” He composed himself. “Now that I think about it with what’s been going on…I just didn’t think.” Alex shrugged.

“Wow, I almost clocked you. Sorry. Guess I’m a little spooked.” Jim couldn’t decide if he should be angry at Alex or just feel silly about the whole thing. He waved his hand dismissively. “It’s been a weird night.”

“Is Pam okay? She was pretty wasted.”

“Yeah, she’s still sound asleep,” Jim agreed with an expression that said “whaddayagonnado?” Then he continued, “Hey, thanks for bringing the keys.” He cocked his head as he added, “You’ve been a . . .good friend to Pam.” That was a loaded statement, and Alex did not miss the cue. Sharp one, this Alex, Jim thought.

Alex sighed deeply. “Look, Jim, I know you’re not wild about me...for um...encouraging Pam to stay in New York. I’m just trying to think of her best interests.”

Jim bristled in spite of trying not to.

Alex continued, not missing that either. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. It’s more than that. I think Pam’s pretty awesome.”

Jim stepped back a step in surprise at this admission.

“I also know she’s engaged to you now, and I know she loves you. In fact, we were pretty sure from hearing about you that you’d show up in a cape.” There was only a hint of bitterness in the humor.

Jim started to reply, but Alex plowed on. “You have no idea what it’s like to be in my situation, man. Everyday. I know I shouldn’t be saying this to you. Guess I’m a little drunk myself.” Alex rubbed his hand over his face.

Jim recognized the pained look in Alex’s eyes all too well, and for the first time, he felt a stab of sympathy. “Sorry, Alex.” Jim mumbled. What else was there to say? “Look. For what it’s worth on the New York issue, I would never stand in the way of Pam’s dreams. Ever. I just want her to be happy. I think we’ll be happy, together, and until I hear otherwise from her?” He shrugged slightly. “She is pretty awesome.”

The younger man bowed his head slightly, as if to admit defeat as well as agree.

Alex managed a small smile. “I hope Pam is happy,” he said, and it sounded sincere, Jim thought. “You know, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but Dr. Krenz - one of our professors - he told Pam she was too happy to be doing great work.” Alex nodded. “So . . .I’m hoping this experience I’m having is making me a better artist.”


“I don’t think you have to be unhappy to create good art.” Jim stated flatly.

“Great art, it’s great art you want to create, don’t you see? Van Gogh wasn’t very happy, was he?” Alex said with a pained smile.

There was something weird about the way he said that, Jim thought, but. . .the silence became eerily awkward, and Jim was ready to end this conversation. “Well, it’s late. Thanks for the keys, and sorry I almost hit you.”

“I should have thought about it from your point of view.”

“And I shouldn’t be so edgy. G’night,” Jim said, as he turned to go back into Pam’s room.

“Hey, what happened to you?” Alex called after him with alarm in his voice.

Jim realized Alex had seen the back of his head. Damn.

“I got mugged,” he admitted nonchalantly.

“What?! What the hell? When? Is Pam okay?” Alex fired questions.

Jim answered calmly. “Pam was in here asleep. She’s fine. I went out to get my bag from the car and somebody whacked me upside the head.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yup.”

“Holy shit, Jim! I’m sorry.”

“I love New York.” Jim smiled. “Night, Alex, “ he said, pulling the keys from the lock as he disappeared into Pam’s room.

A glance at the clock showed it was a little after midnight, but Jim felt like he’d already been up all night. He made no effort to put the lamp back together, and slid back into bed beside his fiancée - his still sleeping fiancée - who was, even under normal circumstances, a sound sleeper. But this took the cake. He wouldn’t be in a hurry to let her live this down.

He shifted onto his side, the only way he fit in this tiny bed. Wow, he thought as he settled in, that conversation with Alex had been all kinds of weird. As he wondered what else could possibly happen to make this night more bizarre, Jim fell fast asleep.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.





Jim was standing waist deep in dark, mirky lake water, his feet mired in the mud bottom. He desperately clung to Pam’s ankle, keeping her from being pulled upward. Ryan and Alex, each wearing Statue of Liberty hats, and each holding of one of her arms, were trying to pull her up into their elaborately decorated room, high above the swamp. He couldn’t see her face, and she wasn’t saying anything. And the class bell kept ringing, ringing, ringing, louder and louder.

At that point Jim awoke, and realized that Pam’s dorm room phone was ringing. A groggy glance confirmed that Pam was still asleep, oblivious to the sound that was jangling in his head. He rose and groped around in the dark until he found the receiver.

“’lo,” he mumbled gruffly and then more clearly, “Hello?”

Muffled laughter was the only answer.

“Who is this?” he asked, now fully alert.

“Hey Jim buddy.” It was Ryan Howard, and he was definitely under the influence. “How’s your head, brother Jim? Did you have a great party?” he laughed. “Because we did.”

How’s my head. How’s my HEAD? So. It had been Ryan in the parking lot. Or one of his friends more likely, Jim thought, because he doubted the little prick had the nerve to actually hit him or anyone else with a baseball bat.

“Ryan, you’re absolutely going to jail for this.”

“No, Jim the paper salesman, no, I’m not. I’m just calling a friend. In thirty minutes I’ll be on a plane to Thailand. I’m at Kennedy right now, sweet spot.” Ryan laughed too loudly, out of control. Wow, Ryan was well and truly messed up. “Our international flight is running late, so I called to see how you and Pam were.” Another laugh and some muffled voices. “Wait, they’re calling our boarding group. One last try - let Pam stay in New York, Jim. She belongs here and you...you just don’t. Ciao, baby.”

Jim was left literally in the dark, holding the phone, as he heard a click on the other end of the receiver. He was furious, but he realistically accepted that there was no way he could vent that right now. So, he simply hung up the phone, feeling pretty helpless. The clock said 5:37 am as he slid back into the tiny bed beside Pam. Now that the adrenaline wasn’t flowing, his sore spots began to ache as he mentally worked to put this all into perspective. He had been prepared to blow off the attack in the parking lot as a random crime, but Ryan’s words left little to doubt. How like him to claim credit and run, Jim thought.

Still, he was surprised. He could have been seriously hurt if the English guy hadn’t been in the parking lot. Or if the first blow hadn’t been a shared hit partly onto his shoulder, it could have easily cracked his head open. Yes, Ryan’s friends were out of control and dangerous, that was for sure. Pam stirred for a moment, interrupting his thoughts, and Jim thought she might wake up, but she quickly settled back into sleep. She must have really been sleep deprived, he mused.

He wondered if Ryan had lied about having nothing to do with following Pam as well. He’d accepted Ryan’s denial in the break room initially, but now he wasn’t sure. Maybe one of Ryan’s friends had been behind that as well. The one good thing about this was that Ryan Howard had just left the country, and they wouldn’t have to worry about his crazy antics any more. And Jim did believe the plane story, because he could hear the airport loudspeakers during Ryan’s call. Good riddance, Jim thought as he sank into a fitful sleep.

*****

Pam was screaming.

He was jolted awake by her shrieks of, “Jim! JIM!” He was on his feet instantly, instinctively reaching for the lamp base. He squinted against the sunlight beaming in between the blinds in the room, trying to identify what was wrong.

His eyes adjusted to the light, and he saw her horrified expression. She was pointing at the pillow on the bed, which was stained with blood in several places. Her expression changed to dismay as she watched him slowly put down the lamp and smile.

It was his blood, Jim realized. The cut on the back of his head must have oozed onto the pillow as he slept. Giddy and sleep deprived, he almost laughed, but he stopped himself because poor Pam was so upset. She knew nothing about the happenings of the previous night. The last thing she probably remembered was him carrying her upstairs, if she remembered that much.

He set about calming her. “Pam, Pam, it’s okay,” he said quietly and evenly.

“It’s not okay! There’s blood all over the place. Are you hurt? What’s going on? Why is there blood on my pillow?” An upset Pam reeled off questions rapidly from her seat on the bed. She was still wearing that amazing blue dress from last night, and as Jim looked down at her he couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty in her concerned face. God, he’d missed her.

Impulsively, he reached down, gathered her into his arms, and soundly kissed her. A very pleasant and effective way to get her to quiet down, he thought, and he congratulated himself on his resourcefulness. She hesitated but then responded to kiss him back, and she reached around the back of his head. He winced as her hand brushed his cut, causing her to pull back and stare at her hand in concern and confusion.

“Jim?” she asked incredulously. “What happened? Did you fall out of bed and hit your head?” she was still very upset, but at least she wasn’t screaming. He resisted the urge to just kiss her again.

Instead, he sat down on the bed next to her. “It’s just a little cut on the back of my head, Pam, let me explain. You slept through a lot. Do you have a headache – a hangover?”

Pam opened and closed her eyes as she took stock. “No, I...” she looked down and noted she was still in her dress from last night “...I guess I was really tired. I remember getting into the cab at the museum. How did I get up here?"

“I carried you.”

“You did?” She took a moment. “I actually feel great, really. . .rested. So what happened, are you sure you’re okay? Because you don’t look okay. I didn’t kick you out of bed did I?” A new panic flooded her face. “Let me see your head.”

“In a minute, but will you let me explain?” he scolded. “You’re going to have to let me talk here, Pam.”

“Sorry, okay.” She folded her hands in her lap.

“We were at the museum, and you had another drink and it went right to your head. I decided we needed to get going before you did, you know, a Dundee or something. So, we got a cab back here. You’re with me to that point, right?”

She nodded, blushing slightly . “Yes, I remember the cab. Wow, I’d only had two drinks. I guess I was really tired.”

“Gross understatement, “ Jim allowed. “Just listen. We got out of the cab and and you weren’t walking very well, so I carried you up here. But when we got here, we couldn’t find your keys, so I had to go down and get the desk person to open your room.”

“Oh yikes.” She covered her mouth with her hand.

“Yeah, you were lying here in the hall asleep,” he chuckled, remembering the sight. “Anyway, she let us in and I got Sleeping Beauty – he gestured in her direction - into bed. Then I realized I didn’t have my clothes and my toothbrush and stuff – because I’d gone straight from my car to the museum. I decided to go out to the car to get it, but I didn’t have your keys so I just stuck one of your shoes into the door to hold it open while I was gone.”

“Did you run into something?”

“Just shut up and let me tell the story, Pam,” he said with mock irritation.

“I just want to know,” she said, a little petulant.
He ignored her comment and continued. “So I get to my car, I get out my dufflebag, and I see this man across the parking lot yelling at me. And then “Wham,” somebody hits me upside the head from behind.”

“Oh my God, Jim!”

“Next thing I know, I’m lying on the ground and the yelling guy was there asking if I was okay. Apparently somebody had hit me with a baseball bat, but they took off when they saw him. The guy was a professor here at Pratt – a British guy - he gave me his card. He wanted to call the police, but I knew your door was unlocked, and I knew they’d never catch the person who did it anyway, so I came back up here. Luckily, you were safe - and snoring loudly, I might add,” he interjected.

“Let me see your head. That’s what the blood is from?”

“Yeah, it’s a little cut. Just bled a lot. Head cuts do that.”

“I can’t believe this. Nobody’s been bothered in the parking lot the whole time I’ve been here.” She reached up and turned his head so she could finally see the cut. “Oh Jim, it’s, like, at least an inch long and you need stitches. And there’s a big lump. Does it hurt?” she asked sympathically.

“Not too bad.” His ribs and shoulder actually were a lot worse, but he decided not to get into that right now.

“We need to go and get it….”

“I’ll go when we get back to Scranton,” he talked over her. “Now shush, I’m not done, “ he said with a half smile.

“So I cleaned up and got ready for bed, but I was still a little spooked,” Jim watched her nod in understanding. “Plus, your keys were missing and I was paranoid about that, too. So I put a chair against the door.” He paused. “Then, I was nearly asleep when I heard a key turn in the door. I grabbed the base of your lamp as a weapon, and opened the door.” He reinacted the scene with his hands.

Pam was wide-eyed now.

“As it turns out, it was just Alex, and I nearly bashed him in the head with the lamp. Your keys had dropped out of your purse or jacket at the museum, and he was bringing them back – said he was just going to drop them into the room. So we had a nice little chat and he left.”

At this point, Pam’s mouth was just hanging open.

“Oh there’s more. I finally went back to sleep, and then your phone rings about 5:45 or so, right in the middle of a dream I was having about people trying to pull you out of a swamp. “

“Oh no, was it…the breather?”

“Yes and no. No heavy breathing this time, but it was Ryan. And I’m pretty sure he just wanted to let me know that he or one of his friends was the mugger in the parking lot.”

“Holy shit, he admitted that?”

“He asked if I had a headache.”

Pam’s temper flared. “Why that little..”

“Yeah,” Jim interrupted again. “I agree. But get this. He was at the airport and leaving for Thailand, and he was high on something. I’m not sure he’ll even remember what he said.

“The next time I see him I’m going to...” she started angrily.

“..you’re going to have to push me out of the way to get to him first.” Jim said without humor. “But look at it this way, he’s gone, and you’re safe, and there’s nobody after you…” Jim’s voice trailed off. “I was really worried about you, Pam.”

The look of appreciation on her face was unmistakable, and she leaned over to give him a long, expressive kiss. When their lips parted, she said softly. “Take me home.”

She had no idea how much he wanted to do just that. His voice caught a little as he pulled her near, and whispered simply, “Okay,” into her curls.

She sighed. “Let me take a quick shower and get some jeans on. Then we can pack up the cars, and maybe stop for breakfast on the way to Scranton?” she suggested.

“Perfect.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost nine.”

“Yikes. Keisha, Alex, and Alice are coming by at nine to help us load the cars and say bye,” she said, as she sprang to her feet and disappeared into the bathroom.

“Pam, my shirt’s in the sink soaking the blood out,” he called after her. He didn’t want to precipitate another screaming episode. Jim was actually pretty darn done with talking to Alex, but this would go quickly, he thought. Pam’s friends might be some help, he thought, when he really considered it . He wasn’t sure how much he could carry at a time with his gimpy shoulder.
Jim heard a timid knock at the door about ten after nine, and he got up to answer the door. Sure enough, it was Alice and Keisha, and he let them in, leaving the door open.

“Pam, you were wasted last night, honey, “Alice kidded, “worse than that night we went to Franco’s,” she finished, as Pam emerged from the bathroom. Jim wondered if that was the night she'd butt dialed him.

“Shut up,“ Pam laughed sheepishly.

“Bet you slept well,” grinned Keisha, wiggling her eyebrows.

Alex appeared in the open door and Jim turned away to busy himself, putting a few of Pam’s things into a cardboard box.

“Jim!” Alice exclaimed suddenly. “What happened to you…..your head?” she sputtered.

Jim turned to her and caught Alex’s eye as he answered matter of factly, “I was trying to cut off my ear last night, you know, like Van Gogh, and the knife sort of..I don't know...slipped."

Alice and Keisha stood speechless, but after a moment of stunned surprise, Alex cracked up.

“Pam,” he laughed, “you failed to mention that the man from Scranton is quick.”

Poor Alice and Keisha still wore puzzled expressions and Jim added, “No, not really. Somebody mugged me in the parking lot last night.” And without missing a beat, he continued, “Pam, do you want this box in your car or mine?”

“In the Pratt parking lot?” Alice asked.

“Yup,” he acknowledged as he picked up a box. “Which car?” He was anxious to get this show on the road.

With five people they had everything loaded in a couple of trips, and now they were all gathered in the parking lot. Jim stood wedged in the open driver’s door of his Saab. “Bye, Alice, Keisha,“ he waved over to where they were standing beside Pam’s car. “I’ll follow you, Pam,” he called to her. Alex approached him and shook his hand. “Good luck, Alex,” Jim offered.

“Thanks, man,” Alex replied, and as he did, he reached to enthusiastically clasp Jim squarely on his sore shoulder. Jim grabbed the top of his door to prevent his knees from giving way, and he eased himself rapidly down into the driver’s seat, hiding his grimace as best he could. “Take good care of Pam.” Alex added.

“I will,” Jim responded through clenched teeth. Alex stepped back so Jim could close the car door, and walked over toward Pam. She said her goodbyes, and finally they were off.

They decided to stop at exit 17 for breakfast. Jim knew he should be tired, but the combination of his physical discomforts – the seatbelt hit at a bad place over his ribs – and replaying the bizarre events of this weekend kept him awake. He was still finding it hard to fathom that Ryan, or at least one of his drug buddies, had actually attacked him so viciously.

More troubling to him was the feeling that he and Pam weren’t quite right yet - something was off. He found himself second guessing whether she wanted to leave New York. He clung to her obvious concern for him, but the truth was, her request to “take me home” was about the only thing that was keeping him together this morning.
Even at the breakfast stop he couldn’t deny the feeling that he was escaping with something he’d stolen and that he needed to hurry and get farther away – all the way home – before he got caught. He sipped a second cup of coffee as Pam finished her eggs.

“So, are we going to the ER for those stitches first?” she asked, as she chewed a last bit of toast.

Jim groaned at the thought of sitting in the Mercy ER for forever and then he thought of something. “Hey, Dr. Lawson has Saturday hours.” Ten minutes and three phone calls later, he had an appointment for noon, and they had just enough time to make it.

Pam was amazed. “I didn’t know you even had a doctor.” She was surprised they’d never talked about it, but Jim hadn’t been really sick in the five years she’d known him.

“Well, um…I’ve known him for a long time.”

“What kind is he? I mean, surgeon, or what kind?”

Jim felt a little sheepish. “No.”

Pam’s expression pressed him for a better answer. “He’s…um. My…um...” he almost swallowed the last word as he spoke it….”pediatrician.”

Pam laughed. “Your pediatrician. That’s funny! No, what kind is he, really, because I….” her voice trailed off as she took in the look on his face.

“Oh my God! You’re serious! We’re going to a pediatrician’s office?”

He could feel his face flush, but he had to admit it was kind of funny,. “Yeah, maybe I should act, you know, slow. And you could hold my hand in the waiting room,” he grinned, deciding to run with the joke.

Pam started to giggle and suddenly they were completely back in step. The three months of distance and strain just evaporated as they laughed together. Jim did his Kevin impression, and that made her giggle even more – he was sure the other patrons in the diner were staring but he didn’t care. He loved making her laugh.

The seatbelt didn’t annoy him nearly as much on the rest of the ride home. They stopped at the pediatrician’s office, and left with four stitches, a tetanus shot, and two lollipops, one grape and one cherry.

Only then did they finally arrive in front of his apartment. Their apartment. Home. Well, actually he’d just bought his parent’s house, but he thought he’d wait a couple of days before he told her about that…he wondered if he’d done the right thing. He truly did not have the energy to sweat that right now. Next week for that one.

Jim unlocked the door and looked down at Pam. He didn’t know if she realized what a momentous occasion this was for him. The wedding would be the official commitment, of course, but he really felt that this moment was THE moment for him. She’d spent plenty of nights here, with him, but this felt different. Permanent. She was coming home. To him. Their eyes met and he deliberately reached his hand out to her. She nodded her head in a small “yes”, taking his hand, and they walked in the door together.

Jim had done some preparation on Thursday, before he left. There was vase with fresh daisies on the little foyer table and he enjoyed the look on her face when she read the card. “I love you too, she said, beaming. “It’s so good to be home, “ she added, and he beamed back.

They decided to go ahead and get the unloading over with, which took a lot longer with just the two of them. Afterward they sat together in the small kitchen, eating sandwiches. The prior evening was starting to catch up with Jim. His eyelids drooped and his ribs ached. “Pam, this isn’t exactly how I wanted this day to go, but I think I need a shower and a nap,” he admitted.

“Sure,that’s fine. I totally understand. I’ll clean up here and I can be unpacking some of my stuff while you sleep. When you get up, we’ll figure out dinner?”

“Thanks,” he said gratefully, and headed off for the shower.

Twenty minutes later, Jim stood, towel around his waist, rummaging through the medicine cabinet above the sink.
The hot water hadn’t improved his physical discomforts as much as he would have liked, and he needed some relief.

“Pam,” he called out to her. “Did you take that big orange bottle of Motrin to New York? Because I’m not seeing it in here.”

“No, I don’t have it, “ she called back from the living room. He heard her footsteps approach the bathroom. “Did you look behind…..” she said and then he heard a small cry of surprise.

He turned to see her in the doorway, a shocked expression on her face. “Your shoulder, what happened….” When he turned, she must have seen the bruises over his ribs as well, because she added, “Oh my. Jim!” He watched the cogs in her head working it out and she asked, “Last night?”

“Yup. Guy was a freaking Babe Ruth.”

She approached him gingerly for a close up look. “Did you show these to the doctor?”

“Nope. The shoulder’s just bruised, but it’s pretty sore. I think the ribs might be broken but there’s nothing to be done about them. My dad fell on the ice a few years ago and broke his, and they Xrayed them and told him to wait six weeks. Not like they can put a cast on them.” He shrugged the “other” shoulder.

“I’m so sorry…”

“Not your fault and it’ll all heal. But I would like to find the Motrin.”

“Oh, right.” She shooed him out of the way so she could get to the cabinet, and five seconds later, Pam held the bottle.

“Y chromosome blindness,“ she smiled, but gently. “Two?”

“Better make it four.”

She winced in sympathy.

“Didn’t help that Art Boy slapped me on that shoulder this morning. He didn’t know, but it did not feel good,” he admitted as he swallowed all four tablets together.

She motioned him toward the bedroom. “Come on, you’ll feel better after a nap. His name is Alex by the way. Look I know you think he had a thing for me but honestly, I think he just wanted to be friends,” she added as they entered the bedroom.

Pam turned down the bed for him. “Here, give me the towel, it's wet.”

“Are you just trying to take advantage of me, Pam?” he asked playfully, blushing a little in spite of himself.

”Don’t worry, I’m not going to attack you every time I see you naked, Jim.”

He let his face fall in disappointment to get the laugh, and then added in an earnest voice,“Seriously, Pam, I’m not sure I’m up to...with this shoulder...” He knew it wouldn’t support his weight, and he didn’t want to bungle through homecoming sex.

“I know. It’s okay. You can make it up to me later,” she teased. “Just get in there.”

He slipped carefully into bed, lying on his back, and allowed her to fuss over him. She created a gap with pillows for his shoulder, and it did take the pressure off of it very nicely. He wasn’t going to pretend he wasn’t enjoying her attentions.

“You’re wrong about Art Boy, you know. I can prove it,” he said, as she finished arranging the pillows. “He told me in the hall, last night.”

“He told you? He told You?"

“He declared his feelings for you, and he told me I had no idea how hard it was having a crush on someone already engaged.” Jim smiled a smug and satisfied smile as he settled his head into the pillow.

“No way.”

“Yes way.”

“Did you tell him that. . .”

“Nope.” He knew where she was going with that. “Sensitive state secrets such as that are revealed only on a “need to know” basis. Only discreet agents such as Michael Scarne are privy to that kind of information.” They laughed together, recalling how he’d once confided in Michael, of all people. “Ow, laughing makes my ribs hurt, and I’m tired of talking about Art Boy.”

“Poor baby” she teased as she reached down to barely touch his bruised ribs with her lips. “Does this help?” Her lips travelled lightly across to his skin to his navel. “Better?” she asked in a voice colored with naughty.

“Pam, I’m serious, I don’t think I can...” he started anxiously, but she interrupted him.

“Shush. I’m not asking you to do anything. Just shut up, lie there, and relax.”

He obeyed, and took a quick breath in as her kisses travelled down that line of hair below his navel. As she touched him, her intentions became perfectly clear, and he reflected that things were definitely looking up. After which he silently added to himself, “That’s what she said.”

And then, Jim stopping thinking at all.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Big thank you to the best beta ever, Vampiric Blood.




One month later

Jim sat crosslegged on the floor in their furniture free apartment bedroom, going through a huge stack of Sports Illustrated magazines. It was Thursday evening, Pam was at her art class, and he was carefully picking out the issues he wanted to keep and putting them in a cardboard box. Okay, he was reading a lot of them, too, but there wasn’t really any hurry.

Things had been going great for them since Pam got back from New York. She’d loved that he bought the house whew, and they’d decided to go ahead and move in just two weeks later. The plan was to gradually move things over from the apartment before his lease ran out in six weeks. They figured if they were actually living in the house, they’d get more done on the fix it projects after work that way, and so far, the plan was working.

Of course, there were a lot of fix it projects to be done. Jim actually enjoyed working on the house, though. It was productive, and he could see the direct results of his work. Unlike selling paper.

His phone rang. “Hey,” he answered with a smile.

“What’s up? How is the magazine sorting coming?” Pam’s voice smiled back on the other end.

“Slowly. There is so much I’ve forgotten, so I have to read as I go,” he chuckled. “ Hey, I thought you were supposed to be drawing.”

“I am, but I’m taking a break. We’re drawing religious icons tonight, and I can’t get into them. I guess I’m just not that…religious.”

“Hmm, you sure sounded religious last night.”

“Oh shut up, you’re bad,” she scolded him.

“Again, not what you said last night,” he teased.

A loud gurgling noise interrupted their conversation. “What was that?” Pam asked.

“Umm. My stomach, I think.”

“Haven’t you eaten dinner yet?”

“Nope, what time is it?”

“7:30.”

“Wow, time got away from me. Guess I should go get something.”

“Thai?” she guessed.

Pam liked Chinese food, but for some reason, Jim had observed, she wasn’t that fond of Thai cuisine. Jim, on the other hand, really liked Thai food. That stuff with the peanut and coconut sauce? Wow. Conveniently, there was a place only a few blocks from the apartment, so a night of cleaning out the apartment by himself was always a good night for some satay. “Busted,” he acknowledged.

“Well, go ahead before you starve. I have to get back to class anyway. I’ll be home about 9:30.”

“I should be home by then,” and he added with an evil grin, “and I’m pretty sure I can help you with the religion thing.”

“You’re so dead, “ she said and hung up as he laughed.

His stomach growled again. Jim hoisted himself up and decided to just head out the back door with a big bag of trash and walk to the restaurant – it was only six blocks or so. It was a nice night and he needed to stretch his legs. He didn’t bother turning off the lights, because he’d be back shortly. He popped open his phone to order ahead as he walked.

Thirty minutes later he approached the apartment front door carrying a brown bag full of stuff that smelled really, really good. He’d even remembered to get utensils this time, since they’d already moved most of the kitchen stuff over to the house. He fished in his pocket for his keys with his free hand, and then he saw it. The front door to the apartment was already standing open. He looked at the street for Pam’s car, but it was nowhere to be seen. Shit. He sat his bag down on the lawn with the intent of barging right in, but then he hesitated and thought better of it. There was nothing of real value in the apartment – if this was a burglary, they weren’t going to get anything. He walked up several feet from the front door and yelled loudly, “Pam?!” just in case.

He heard a commotion, then a crash, and then the unmistakable sound of the back door slamming. He dialed the cops.

Another thirty minutes later, he stood with the police inside the ransacked apartment, staring in disbelief. The police guessed that since there wasn’t anything to steal, the angry crooks had trashed the place in a twisted retaliation. They had smashed some of the light fixtures, dumped some boxes out, broken the shower door glass, and destroyed a couple of pictures that were left hanging on the wall.

The police canvassed around the closely situated apartments, and one of their neighbors , a Steven Odell in 186, had seen a single dark figure running behind the apartments at about the right time. Unfortunately, he hadn’t gotten a good look. The police weren’t hopeful. This was probably going to be an unsolved break in. They were clearly surprised that someone would have broken in with the lights on, unless they somehow knew he’d left by the back door. The back door wasn’t visible from the front though, so how would that work? They were puzzled.

Jim’s phone rang – it was Pam, sitting at their house, wondering where he was – it was already 9:30. He broke the news to her, and she was as shocked as he was. Mr. Grafton, their efficient apartment manager, was already putting a new lock on the front door, so Jim picked up his bag of cold takeout and headed home. He could clean up tomorrow.

He pondered the whole thing on the way home. If he was honest with himself, he was more than a little shaken by this - because, well, what if Pam had been there by herself? He made a note to put another deadbolt on their house on both front and back doors, and was really glad he’d made the deposit on Pam’s birthday present. Not only was she going to love it, but it just became a lot more practical.

He and Pam talked the incident over at the house while he finally got a chance to eat his reheated Thai takeout. They concluded they were lucky they’d already moved everything out and hadn’t lost anything important. Mostly, they were glad they had made the decision to go ahead and move. Jim knew there was crime in Scranton, but after their experience in New York, this new violation left him unsettled on what had always felt like his own secure turf. The randomness of the break in was hard to accept, and both of them had trouble falling asleep – it was amazing how many noises there were in the house when you listened.

When it came right down to it, Jim couldn’t help but wonder if Ryan was back from Thailand. Maybe it was the food, Jim thought, trying to make light of the entire affair in his own mind. He wasn’t going to say anything to Pam, because there wasn’t anything objective to point toward, and it really didn’t make any sense at all. Still, maybe he would ask Kelly if Ryan was back yet. It wouldn’t hurt.

As it turned out, that wasn’t possible. Kelly was out sick on Friday and Jim and Pam yawned their way through the day. They kept the news of their break in to themselves to avoid all of Dwight’s inevitable comments. That evening, a couple of beers and the first half of a movie left them both asleep on the couch. They spent Saturday cleaning up the mess at the apartment and, as usual, working on the house. Pam’s birthday was Sunday, and she’d requested that they stay in except to pick up some Italian at her favorite place, so they wouldn’t have to cook. She had also insisted that he not get her anything expensive so they could put their money toward the house improvements. He’d almost complied, but he did have one little surprise. And boy was it a good one.

On Sunday about 5:30, it was time. “I’m going to go pick up the food, okay?” Jim asked, as Pam finished painting of the back wall of the kitchen a nice clean ivory.

“Okay, I’m nearly done here. I’ll get cleaned up while you’re gone because I know I have paint all over me. “ She blew a stray loose hair out of her face. “What are we watching tonight?”

“It’s your birthday, Pam. You choose. I’ll watch anything you want. Except Project Runway,” he added as a disclaimer.

“What are you smiling about?” Pam asked. “Do I have paint on my face? Where is it?” She swiped at her face with a used rag, making a new blotch of ivory on her cheek.

“Oh, nothing,” he answered. She didn’t believe him, but that was part of the fun. “Be sure and lock the door behind me, will you?” he cautioned as he left.

He picked up the order at the restaurant, but he made one other stop on the way home. When he got to the house, he carried the food into the kitchen, and noticed a paint free Pam sitting on the couch, feet up, sipping a glass of wine. She started to get up, but he stopped her. “Just wait there Pam, I have a little surprise. Close your eyes, and don’t open them until I say.”

“But...”

“Just do it, okay?”

“Okay.” She closed her eyes. “What are you doing, Jim? Boy that food smells good.”

“I’ll be right back, keep your eyes closed.”

He walked back out to the car, and brought in her present. He made his way over to the couch, laid the wiggling 8 week old German Shepherd puppy in her lap, and said, “Open your eyes. Happy Birthday!”

He felt giddy as he watched her face light up.

“Oh my God, Jim! A puppy. Oh, he’s so cute. Oh my God.” She lifted the puppy up and looked him in the face.
He thought for a minute she was going to cry, but she held it together nicely. He couldn’t stop smiling and the puppy’s tail never stopped wagging.

“I’ve got a crate and pad out in the garage to bring in,” he explained as she stroked the pup. “We can keep the crate in the laundry room, and there’s already the dog run in the back yard for while we’re gone during the day – I can fix it right up in half an hour. I figured we may as well go ahead and get him now, before we have the floors redone, you know?”

“Oh Jim, he’s adorable. I’m so happy. He’s perfect. He’s wonderful.” The puppy seemed to have the same opinion of Pam, as he’d already curled up in her lap as she petted him. “What should we name him?” she asked.

“Let’s see if he names himself - give it a couple of days?”

“Right.”

“There’s a bag of puppy chow and some bowls in the car. He needs a collar though. His dad was a search and rescue dog, so he should be a smart one” Jim reached down and gave his fuzzy head a scratch. “C’mon, let’s eat while it’s hot and we can fix his stuff after.”

She scooped the puppy into her arms, followed him into the kitchen, and stood watching him unpack the food. When he looked up he noticed a question on her face.

“What?” he fished.

“Jim.” She paused. “Was this,” she lifted the pup slightly, “because of the break in?”

“Nope. Had planned it before, “ he said as he placed the containers on the table. “I already had a deposit down on this little guy. The protection thing is a plus, though.”

She giggled as the pup starting licking her hand, and said, “Well, best birthday ever – thank you for….” and then more seriously, “…everything. The house, the puppy, all this…”and then she added quietly, “…you.” Pam leaned toward him until her shoulder touched his upper arm ever so lightly.

He looked up at her again from his unpacking. “And I thought it might be good practice, you know. See if we’re responsible parent types,” he delivered the loaded comment, and watched for her reaction.

She raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips in thought, letting the subtext linger. “Not a bad idea,”

He smiled and finished arranging their dinner on the table while she cuddled the pup. When he opened the foil around the garlic butter breadsticks, the wafting smell made them sigh simultaneously, “Mmmm.” He broke off a piece of breadstick and mashed it into the spare melted garlic butter.

“Open up,” he said, because her hands were occupied.
She complied and he held the breadstick while she bit off a piece, and then popped the rest of the bite into his own mouth.

As they sat down to their meal there was no doubt about it, Jim reflected. He loved Italian food.

*****

Monday at work was a surprisingly busy day, but Jim finally got a chance to approach Kelly in the break room just before five. She was still a little cool toward him since he’d told her to shut up that time at Poor Richard’s, even though he’d apologized. He didn’t worry about it too much because frankly, having Kelly not talk to you wasn’t altogether a bad thing. Still, if anybody would know if Ryan was back, it would probably be her, so he asked.

“Kelly, say, have you heard anything about Ryan Howard being back from his trip?” he asked, trying to be casual as he got a soda for the ride home.

Her face lit up and he had his answer. “Ooooh, did you know? He got back early last week! He called me to let me know.” But then she became suddenly serious. “Jim?”

“Yeah, Kelly, what is it?”

“Ryan’s…different. I don’t know. Weird.”

“Umm, what do you mean?” Jim asked, trying to nonchalantly draw more information out.

“He’s…he says he’s found God.”

Jim’s jaw dropped. “Ryan Howard? Ryan Howard that used to work here?”

Kelly shot him a dirty look.

“Sorry. It’s just. Really?”

“I asked him to come over but he wouldn’t. He said he couldn’t hook up anymore. That people shouldn’t hook up until they were married.” Kelly looked a little forlorn. “He did say he wanted to talk to you – to apologize - but he wouldn’t tell me why and made me promise not to tell you.” She put her hand over her mouth. “Whoops. I just told you. Oh well.”

“No, Kelly, it’s all right. I’m sure he’ll…get in touch with me when he’s ready,” Jim said carefully, trying to remember if Kelly knew they’d moved. Jim popped his soda open, and headed for the door. “Hey, thanks. I won’t tell him you told me, okay?”

“Oh, thanks Jim,” she said with a big smile. He had a feeling he was forgiven completely now. Oh well.

*****

On the way home in the car, Jim told Pam about Ryan. She was incredulous.

“Ryan Howard found God? Wow. Do you suppose that’s true? Or something he’s just telling Kelly? Or maybe he's...you know...gone off the deep end.”

They were both contemplating that possibility in eerie silence, when Pam’s phone rang.

“Hello,” Pam answered.

“Oh, hi Alex,” she made a face that said, “Yikes” to Jim. “Um, no, haven’t talked to you in awhile. How are you?”

Jim wiggled his eyebrows, and she swatted him while she listened.

“No, I didn’t get the exhibit information. We’ve moved – we bought a house. Yeah, so maybe it came to the apartment – they’re supposed to forward stuff but sometimes it doesn’t make it,” she explained and then listened before she replied, “Wow, that sounds amazing. Yes, I’d love to see it. When? Friday? This Friday? Hang on.” She placed her hand over the cell phone.

“Jim, there’s a great private impressionist exhibit Friday in New York and Alex has two extra invitations we could have. Do you want to go?”

Not really. he thought because that went so well last time, too but he came through with a quick save. “Pam, I have to finish that electrical stuff before Saturday because the heating and air contractor’s coming by to look at the garage, so I don’t think I could make it. Why don’t you ask Ginna from your art class and see if she wants to go?”

Pam’s face lit up at the idea. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”

“No, I’ve got Voldemort to keep me company.”

She swatted him again. “We’re not naming him Voldemort.”

“Well, so far, he’s the pup who can not be named.” Pam must have gone through two hundred possible names so far, and none of them stuck.

“Shush, not now,” she said in mock irritation as she returned to her phone conversation. “Yes, I’d love to come. I have a friend from my art class who’d like to come with me, is that okay?” She waited for his response and then continued, “No, Jim is working on the house Friday night.” More talking. “Yeah, he’s fine. He’s great,” she said, and made another “yikes” face at Jim. “You draw your own Christmas cards?” “Yeah, sure…” and Pam reeled off their new address for him, and then copied the address of the exhibit down for Friday. She finished the conversation with, “Wow, Alex, thanks so much. We’ll see you there Friday about nine,” and then snapped her phone shut.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” she asked immediately.

“Not at all. I think it’s a great idea.”

“We’re not naming him Voldemort,” she grumbled.

“I know,” he said quickly.

They sat in silence for a moment and then Pam added, “Alex was really talking a mile a minute. He was going on about how well he was doing this semester. I don’t know, kind of...braggy.”

“Maybe he’s focusing better now that you’re gone.”

“You are so mean.”

“Nope. I was serious. You’re distracting.” He grinned.

She gave him a look and then went on brightly, “I am excited about seeing this. Thanks,” she said, beaming and she gave him a peck on the cheek.

Was it weird that he enjoyed making her happy? He didn’t care. He did. Plus, he got out of going to New York to an art show. Win win win, he thought, pleased with himself as they pulled into the driveway. They were home.

To be continued...

A picture of young “Voldemort”:

http://owlmusic.50megs.com/office/gsd3.jpg

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

(Sorry, this is unbetaed, but my bestest beta bud had the unmitigated gall to go on vacation. Can you believe that?)






It was Friday afternoon, and Jim unlocked their front door and let Pam hurry in past him. She dropped her coat and purse on the floor in the entry, threw open the dog gate in front of the steps, and headed straight up the stairs.

“You go get ready,” Jim mumbled to no one in particular, “I’ll take care of the dog.”

“Thanks,” she called back.as she reached the second floor. Ah, she had heard him.

Jim followed her up more slowly, left his bag on the desk in the bedroom and proceeded to change into a plain white tee shirt and jeans. He could hear Pam in the shower as he headed down the stairs. He securely closed the dog gate behind him, and walked out the back door to bring in the puppy.

The puppy who would not be named stood with his huge paws on the fence of the dog run, tail wagging frantically, his bright eyes trained on Jim. When he opened the kennel door, the pup ran madly around him in circles several times, yapping and whining in excitement. His enthusiasm was infectious and just what Jim needed since he was looking at a long Friday night at home without Pam. It wasn’t that he minded her going to New York; he was happy she was getting to go. But having the pup to talk to made it a lot more pleasant for Jim.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little uneasy about Pam going back to New York, though he knew his concern was illogical. Pam’s plan was to drive over and pick up her friend Ginny. They’d grab a quick dinner and let the traffic die down, and then head into the city. Alex had assured Pam that there was valet parking available at the event, and Jim had insisted that she use it whatever it cost. He’d had enough of New York parking lots.

The pup finally plopped down panting at his feet, and Jim gave him an affectionate scratch. “Let’s go inside big guy. Are you hungry?” The puppy hopped to his feet to follow him. “So, what are we gonna eat for dinner with your mom gone?”

Inside, Jim headed straight to the kitchen to find the dogfood. After tearing around the house for several minutes, the puppy sat down on his dogbed in the corner of the kitchen, chewing on a random toy and waiting for the dinner he knew was coming.

He heard Pam’s footsteps in the bedroom upstairs as he called to the pup, “Come here Vol, come here.” He was trying not to call him Voldemort all the time, but Pam was going to have to come up with a name soon or the dog was going to start answering to “Voldemort”. Which, actually, would be okay with him, Jim grinned to himself.
The pup lit into his chow with vigor and Jim heard Pam moving in the upstairs hallway, so he walked toward the front door to see her out.

As she descended the stairs, he felt another pang of regret that she was leaving. She looked stunning. Her makeup was fresh, her hair soft and loose on her shoulders, and she wore a deep red dress that fit, Jim noted, in all the right places. It would almost have been worth another evening of culture with Art Boy to go with her tonight. Almost.

“Wow,” he said with appreciative eyes, “You look…amazing.” Her face lit up. “Jesus, Pam. This is going to kill Alex, you know that, don’t you?” He almost felt sorry for the guy. Almost.

“Oh stop,” she said as she hurried through the dog gate at the bottom of the stairs. Jim picked her coat from the floor and helped her into it. “Am I late?” she asked.

“Nope, right on schedule,” he said, glancing at his watch.

“Good. Well, I’m gone. Don’t wait up, “ she smiled up at him and gave him a lingering kiss.

“Ummm…” he murmured. “I will.” He reached for the door to let her out. “Have fun, Pam. Call me when you start home?”

“’Okay,” she said as she scooped her purse off the floor and headed out to the little blue Yaris.

Jim closed the door behind her. There was an emptiness that settled about the house when Pam walked out – he always noticed it. He watched out the dining room window as she drove off and padded back to find Voldemor…er…the puppy. Pam promised she’d pick a name this weekend and he was going to hold her to it.

The fuzzy guy was finishing up his bowl of puppy chow – boy could that dog eat – so Jim called him out the back door again for a walk - always a good idea after dinner.
When they came back in, Jim started rummaging through the freezer for his own supper. Which kind of pizza? He decided on pepperoni and slid one into the oven, twisted the cap off a beer, and sat at the kitchen table checking out the ESPN schedules. He had a couple of hours of work to do on the garage (which they were now calling the studio) but he could squeeze that in around a game. Pam was going to be gone until at least two am, afterall.
He didn’t find any great game prospects, so he was absentmindedly flipping through the classifieds when the oven timer beeped. Jim transferred the steaming pizza to the table and ran the circular cutter through it to make six huge slices.

He’d just lifted the first slice to his lips when he heard the music. It was the ringtone of a cell phone, he realized, but it wasn’t his. It was Pam’s, and it was somewhere close. He dropped the pizza back onto the pan and tried to locate the sound. The tone was a little muffled but he traced it to the corner of the kitchen, right where Voldemort was lying on his dog bed. Jim hurriedly searched around and under the dog, and finally put his hand on Pam’s phone, tucked into the seam of the dog bed bumper.

He flipped it open and answered, “Hello,” barely catching it before the voicemail picked up.

“Hello?” came a female voice, somewhat surprised. “I’m sorry, I was trying to reach Pam. I have the wrong number.”

“No, you’re right. Hi, I mean, I'm not Pam. This is Jim.”

“Oh Jim? Hi. This is Keisha. Where’s Pam? Can I talk to her?”

“She’s already left for New York, but I’ve just discovered she doesn’t have her phone. Our puppy must have...”he stopped. “It’s a long story.”

“Oh, you all got a puppy?” she squealed. “Cool. Was it for Pam’s birthday?”

“Yeah, it was.” Keisha seemed like a nice person, Jim thought.

“Well, It’s okay, I wasn’t calling about a big deal or anything. I just wanted to tell Pam that as it turns out, there isn’t going to be valet parking but Alex said she can use the lot a block east of there, and she can get her ticket validated in the building. But maybe she can figure that out when she gets here. She’s bringing a friend, right?”

“Yeah,” Jim answered. “I’m tied up working on the house here, so a friend from her art class here in Scranton is with her.” He was not at all happy to hear about the parking situation, and a new uneasiness set in.

“Guess we’ll meet her there, then. Oh, does her friend have a phone?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I’ll try and find out. I’ll get in touch with her and let her know if I can, “ Jim feverishly tried to think of Ginny’s last name. He didn’t even know that, much less her phone number.

“Thanks, Jim.”

“Sure. Enjoy the exhibit. Bye.” As soon as the call ended he searched Pam’s phone contacts for the name Ginny. Nothing. For some reason Pam tended to put last names in her contact list. Frustrated, he glared at the puppy. “Did you take this out of Pam’s purse?”

The pup just sat there guilt free, cocking his head and panting, unconcerned. Jim wished he could be that calm. He really wanted to get in touch with Ginny. Ginny who? He wasn’t sure he’d ever even heard the name. Wait. He’d seen some paperwork from Pam’s class out in the studio when he was working last night. Maybe there was a class list. He dropped the phone in his pocket and hurried out to the studio. The puppy tried to follow him out, but Jim hurried out the door, closing him inside the house. “You’ve caused enough trouble already, Voldemort.”

Jim dashed out the door and headed straight to the garage. He pulled open the side door, switched on the light, and immediately started scanning the floor for Pam’s green art bag. He was startled to hear a familiar voice behind him say, “Stop right there.” Jim heard the sound of a pistol cocking. A second later he felt the muzzle of the gun poke into his back through the thin tee shirt, and he recognized the voice. Alex the Art Boy was standing right here in Scranton, in their garage, holding a gun to his back. How surreal.

“Alex,” he stated the greeting.

“Hello Jim from Scranton.”

“What are you doing here?” Jim asked quietly. He was overwhelmed with relief that Pam had already left.

Alex’s laugh chilled him to the bone. “You don’t get it at all, do you? He paused. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain it to you. But first, let’s get comfortable. Lie face down there on the floor with your hands out to the side. “
Jim didn’t move. Alex shoved the pistol upward toward the base of his skull and whispered, “Do exactly what I said right now, or I will create some Jackson Pollock style art all over this garage door with your brains. I’m doing you a favor by explaining this to you. I’m actually fond of you in an odd way.” Alex’s tone was superior, condescending, and...disturbed.

“Yeah, okay,” Jim said quickly, his mouth suddenly very dry. He realized he was in a hell of a mess. Art Boy had gone postal.

Jim briefly considered trying to whirl around and overpower Alex, but he decided it would be suicide. All Alex had to do was pull the trigger and it was over. Instead, Jim decided to bide for time and hope that some other opportunity would present itself. He slowly knelt on the floor and laid down prone. He was acutely aware of the phone in his pocket, but as if he was reading his mind, Alex reminded him, “Hands out where I can see them. We’ll have us a little talk before I finish this.”

Jim laid with his head to the side, cheek on the cold concrete. Now he could see Alex in his peripheral vision and it was not a comforting sight. The look in his eyes was frightening…wild. Jim was scared. Scared for himself, and even more scared for Pam.

“Third time’s the charm. You’re a slippery one,” Alex started.

Jim figured that the more Alex talked, the longer he’d have to try and figure a way out of this. “What do you mean?” he asked, as he scanned the floor in his view for something he could use as a weapon. His wire cutters and tin snips lay several feet out of his reach, taunting him. His turned his attention back to the phone in his pocket.

“I’d have already had you taken care of if old Gerry Taylor hadn’t been in the parking lot that night in New York.”

“It was you in the parking lot?” The surprise in Jim’s voice was genuine. He’d been convinced it was Ryan’s friends. Jim felt his keys in his pocket deeper than the phone. Maybe he could squeeze them against the floor to push the phone up and out of his pocket. It was worth a try, and he didn’t have a better idea at the moment.

“I had a brilliant plan that night.” Alex exclaimed, grandiose. “Pam wasn’t going to wake up after I added the sedative to her drink, and I was going to take care of you in the dorm room. But you walked right out the door while I was giving you time to go to sleep.” Jim shifted his position slightly to put pressure on the keys, and sure enough, he was able to ease the phone toward the opening of his pocket while Alex talked. “It would have been perfect, and almost ridiculously easy. Stupid suburbanite boyfriend unwisely goes to car in middle of the night, dies from injuries. No suspects.”

“You have a big swing with that bat.” Jim kept him talking.

“Surprised? It’s genetic. My father played for the Yankees in the 80’s.”

“That explains a lot.” Jim mumbled as he tilted his hip and shifted again to move the phone – the top was nearly to the lip of his pocket.

Alex stopped short. “Are you moving, smartass?” he snarled. “What do you take me for?” Quick as a snake, Alex planted his left foot on the floor beside Jim’s hip, pulled his right leg back, and put his full weight into a vicious kick that caught Jim squarely in the ribs.
Jim couldn’t help but cry out as he felt the crack of bones and a searing pain coursed through his right side. He grabbed at his ribs with his right hand involuntarily.

“Get that hand back out there, you big gangly bastard!” Alex shouted as he brandished the gun at Jim to make his point.

Jim managed to get his hand back out on the floor, but holy shit this hurt a lot worse than last time. My God, he thought, this guy is a raving lunatic It became all too clear to Jim that Alex fully intended to kill him here tonight and he didn’t have a realistic plan to stop him. He also faced the prospect that maybe the best he could do was inflict enough damage on Alex so that at least he couldn’t get to Pam. Time, he needed time. He needed the phone in his pocket. He needed help, and it wasn’t coming.

Just then, the phone in his pocket rang it’s familiar tone. “Leave it.” Alex said, and after six rings it stopped. Was it Pam, Jim wondered, calling to say she’d forgotten her phone? He felt a cold terror as he considered the possibility that Pam might actually come back home to get her phone. It could have been anybody, he told himself. But what if she came back? Alex would kill them both. Desperation seized him.

“Alex, okay man, “ Jim spoke haltingly, “do whatever...to me...but please...please ,” Jim’s pleading was all too real, “please don’t...hurt Pam. Please. I’m...begging you.”

Alex chuckled. “That’s very sweet, really. You don’t get it at all, do you Jim?”

“Obviously not,” he panted. “Could you explain?”

“I would never hurt Pam, you dimwit. That night in New York when she thought someone was following her? It was me, but I wasn’t stalking her. She’d told me about those phone calls she’d been getting. I saw her leave the museum alone and I wanted her to be safe so I followed her to make sure. And then you played right into the whole thing by telling her to call me. That was rich. No, I would never hurt Pam. I’m doing this for Pam.”

“Umm…how’s that?” Jim managed. Wow, he’d had Pam call the very person who was following her. Good job, Halpert, he congratulated himself on his stupidity.

“I love Pam, “ Alex’s voice became thick. “Weren’t you listening the first time I told you? That’s the reason I’m doing this, but not in the way you think. I’m doing this to give her the chance to become the artist she can be - a great artist. Because that’s what she really wants, deep down inside. To create magnificient art. She just needs a little push. She needs someone to encourage her, not hold her back. She needs someone who really understands her, someone who listens to her dreams.”

Jim took heart in the fact that Alex was getting caught up in his monologue here, but at the same time he was disturbed that he had said pretty much the same things about Roy. Focus here, he admonished himself. Jim wondered if he dare try to sneak a hand in on the phone? If he could somehow call 911 through the fabric of his pants? “You know, “ Jim ventured, “that if you kill…me, you’ll be hurting Pam…at least a little.” He needed to keep Alex talking.

“Yes, of course I considered that. She is fond of you, and she thinks she loves you, that's obvious. At first I didn’t understand, but after I met you, I could see how she’d find you amusing. I even like you in a way. But you don’t understand Pam like I do. You don’t know what she really wants and needs.”

“Maybe Pam should...get to decide...what she wants?” he ventured, doing his best not to challenge but simply keep the words coming. Christ, his ribs hurt.

“She’s too nice to hurt you, so I have to help her along. Pam will be sad, but that is part of my beautiful plan. Her temporary anguish will allow her creativity to flourish, and she will be free to express herself artistically.”

“And so how...do you fit into...this whole picture?” Jim asked as he managed to push the phone so that about an inch of it was out of his pocket.

“After she gets over the shock of losing you and starts to enjoy the creative surge she will experience? She’ll see I’ve always been there for her, and she will come to realize how much I care for her.”

As if hearing this news wasn’t bad enough, Jim suddenly became aware of headlights turning into the driveway. He could see them in the crack under the garage door. Oh God!! Pam must have discovered she didn’t have her phone at dinner and she was coming back to get it. No, this can't happen. He had to do something. Alex was facing away from the door so he didn’t see the lights. He didn’t know she was coming. Jim heard a car door slam and steps started up toward the garage. Finally, Alex heard the the footsteps, too, and Jim noticed his body tense.

Pam would come straight to the garage, Jim knew. The lights were on and he was planning to work here tonight. Jim also knew now what he had to do - if Alex turned to the door, Jim would go for him. Alex might shoot him, but watching Alex point that gun at Pam was not something Jim was going to tolerate. Even if Alex killed him, Pam would have time to run away. He had to somehow do enough harm to Alex to disable him, at the very least.

So this, he thought as the steps got closer, this is it.

The footsteps approached the side door to the garage and Alex turned to look toward the door. In doing so, he moved his body to face the door, aiming the gun in that direction. Faster than he thought possible, Jim gathered his limbs under him and pushed upward, making sure to knock Alex’s arm up as he lunged. There was a report of the gun as it discharged harmlessly into the ceiling and out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw the form of Ryan Howard appear in the side door to the garage, and then quickly disappear. Jim grabbed for the gun and the two men grappled for control of the weapon, four hands battling between them. Alex was wild and strong, but Jim was driven by anger and desperation, and they struggled furiously.

Jim’s calves caught on the legs of an easel behind him and the two men toppled awkwardly toward the floor, still wrestling for control of the gun, Jim heard two more reports from the pistol as he fell backward onto the concrete, pulling Alex down on top of him, and then - there was blackness.



To be continued...

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.







A voice somewhere kept saying his name. “Jim!”
The weight was oppressive, he couldn’t breathe, and pain stabbed his side every time he sucked in air. His hands - he couldn’t move his hands. Everything was heavy and difficult, and Jim felt disoriented, helpless. He wondered if he was dying, and the voice kept calling him, “Jim!”

Awareness began to float back, and he opened his eyes – only to immediately close them. Too bright, it was too bright. He gradually opened them again, squinting, and understood that he was staring up into the new “full spectrum” lights he’d recently installed on the ceiling of his garage. Suddenly he knew exactly where he was, and what had happened. The unconscious bulk of Alex lay completely on top of him, breath raspy and labored as his own. Jim’s hands were trapped between their opposing chests, and he could still feel the gun caught there. Jesus, air, he needed air.

“Jim! Talk to me!” Jim turned his head slightly and saw Ryan’s face loom over him, his eyes wide and frightened. “Jim, say something!” Ryan demanded.

As Jim’s wits returned to him fully, he observed that other than the pain in his ribs, nothing else actually seemed to hurt. Weren’t gunshots supposed to hurt? He tried to push Alex off, but his pinned arms didn’t have the strength.

“Help,” he managed to get out, but it was only as a whisper.

Ryan must have heard though, because he answered. “I called 911. The police are on the way. Help is on the way.”

“No, I…mean…get him….” Jim found a louder voice, but had to pause every few words for a breath, “ …get him…off.”

“Oh.” Ryan said, and he assessed the situation, but not nearly quickly enough for Jim.

“Pull him…him off.” Jim reiterated. He felt like he was suffocating. “Now!”

“But he’s…” Ryan hesitated and halfheartedly pulled at one of Alex’s arms.

“I can’t….breathe…get…him…off!” Jim started struggling to get his hands out, and this seemed to bring home the point to Ryan. With renewed purpose, he grabbed Alex’s arm, putting his weight into the task.

“Careful, “ Jim cautioned as Alex’s body started to move, “the gun…still here.”

Ryan nodded and with considerable effort, he was able to flip Alex over onto his back to lie face up beside Jim. Jim managed to lay the gun over to the opposite side on the garage floor with his own hand, and it was sticky with blood. He could feel warm wetness on the front of his T shirt and glanced down to see a deep red stain on the white fabric covering his chest.

If this was dying, Jim thought absently, it nearly wasn’t as bad as he’d imagined. Having Art Boy off of him helped a lot. He still wasn’t getting enough air, but the overwhelming panicky feeling had subsided. Maybe he was actually okay.

“Thanks,” he puffed as he watched Ryan’s eyes widen even more, and saw his face turn a Casperworthy white.

“Oh shit. Pressure, I need to put pressure,” Ryan said shakily as he grabbed one of Pam’s art rags, knelt beside Jim, and laid the rag on his chest. “Where are you…where’s the wound, Jim? I’ll stop the bleeding.”

“I don’t….” Jim paused. “I think… I’m okay.”

“No, there’s blood everywhere, Jim. Where are you shot?” Ryan asked, panic in his voice, and he pressed randomly on Jim’s chest.

“No,” Jim insisted. “Don’t push…down…can’t…breathe.”

“But I’ve got to stop the…” Ryan protested.

At this point, Jim was still a little unsure himself. “Ryan,” he interrupted, “Lift up…my shirt..and…look.”

Ryan gingerly grabbed the hem of his bloody tee shirt and lifted it to peer underneath.

“Well?” Jim asked.

“Umm. No. There’s no - hole.” Ryan seemed puzzled.

Jim almost laughed as the scene took on an absurd quality.

“But the blood...” Ryan continued, confused.

“Must be ..Alex’s.”

Ryan looked over to Alex, nodded, and said, “He’s definitely shot. Wait, you know this guy?” Ryan asked, incredulous.

“Friend of…Pam’s… Pratt….” Jim panted.

“Wow,” Ryan said, looking dumbfounded as he rocked back on his heels in amazement. “Wow. You’re lucky.” He paused. “I’m lucky – when he saw me through the glass in the door - I thought he was going to shoot me.” Ryan surmised.

Come to think of it, why is Ryan even here? Jim finally had time to wonder. “Why are… you here?”

“Oh.” Ryan briefly lost his shellshocked look and answered, “I came by to apologize. I got your address…from somebody at the office – who knew you’d be alone tonight.”

Like I can’t figure out who that was Jim thought. And apparently everybody knew I was home alone tonight.

“I said some things to you that were out of line -before I left the office. Before I left on my trip.”
Ryan confessed, as the squealing sirens approached rapidly. “I’m sorry, I had no right. I’m going to…” The noise became deafening as they pulled up out front, and Ryan looked up. “I’ll go get the police in here.”

“Okay,” Jim nodded. He made a halfhearted effort to sit and gave that idea up in a hurry, so he settled back on the floor, contemplating while he waited. Alex had gone crazy and nearly killed him, Ryan had turned over a new leaf, and he couldn’t even call Pam and tell her. Wow. And why was it so hard to breathe? His ribs hadn’t caused this much trouble last time.

The police poured in and a couple of minutes later so did the paramedics. They opened the big garage door to the driveway, letting the cool air stream in, and he was thankful for that. It felt good, Jim thought, he needed air. The paramedics quickly evaluated both Alex and Jim, and Jim guessed he should be glad they started on Alex first. From their conversation, Jim gleaned that Alex had two wounds to the chest, one superficial and one serious, and they were sure in a hurry to get him to the hospital. The EMT’s soon had Alex bundled onto a stretcher and were rolling him out the door.

One of the policeman addressed Jim. “Mr. Halpert?”

Jim nodded.

“I’m Officer Scarne. This your place?”

Another nod.

“What happened?”

Jim gave a halting “guy showed up with a gun” account to the policeman, who didn’t press him for details. “This his gun?” the officer picked up the bloody gun with a rag, holding it as gingerly as possible. Jim nodded once again – it was easier than talking, and the officer walked away to find a bag.

From his position on the floor, Jim had a clear view of the street through the legs of a small table, and he saw a familiar blue Yaris pull up and park across the street – the police and ambulances had all the space in front of the house occupied.

He watched as Pam bolted toward the stretcher rolling toward the parked ambulance. A policeman stopped her and she fought to get past. Her hand reached to cover her mouth as she recognized Alex on the stretcher. He saw Ryan talking to her and watched her shrink back, then look toward the garage, toward him. It was like watching a silent movie.

Then Pam was running toward him through the open door, and she knelt beside him, tears streaming down her face. “Oh my God, Jim!” she exclaimed, with a look of pure terror in her eyes.

Ryan had trotted inside after her and tried to explain. “Jim’s not shot, Pam, “ but his words failed to override the visual of Jim’s bloodsoaked tee shirt and bloody hands.

“You’re….safe.” Jim stated simply.

“What?” she looked stunned to hear him talk. “Jim?”

“Okay...just ribs...again,” he assured her in his halting speech. In as few words as possible, he related to her the basics of what had transpired. He noted the policeman had returned and he stood behind Pam, taking down his words.

“Oh no. I. Alex tried? Oh my God.” Pam was having trouble processing what had happened, and she had a death grip on his arm. He wanted to touch her, to calm her, but his hands were bloody and he couldn’t get more than two or three words out at a time.

‘Puppy...took your…phone.” He even managed a lopsided smile for her. “In my...pocket. Take it.” He fumbled to pull the phone from his pocket.

“What?”

The scream of another ambulance pulling up made it impossible to talk, and Pam loosed her grip on his arm long enough to reach for her phone. The second set of paramedics soon made their entrance. After a quick evaluation, they made the decision to take him on to the hospital because they were concerned about a “pneumosomething.” Jim didn’t protest. He was beginning to feel a little dizzy and disoriented.
They efficiently lifted him to the stretcher and as they started rolling out of the garage, Jim said to a still distressed Pam, “S’okay...see you...there?”

She nodded through her worry. “But Ginny?” she remembered, gesturing toward her friend standing in the yard. Ryan assured Pam he would take Ginny home and then promised to come to the hospital to check on her. Who would have thought he’d be so glad to see Ryan Howard, Jim wondered, as they transferred him into the ambulance? What a night.

As the doors closed at his feet, he heard someone say to Pam, “You’ll need to ride up front, m’am.” The EMT started the IV dripping and was placing an oxygen mask over his nose and he felt the vehicle start to move.

Oh crap, he thought as the siren began to wail. The dog is still in the house.

Jim concentrated on thinking of things the dog might do to the house, because it took his mind off the more urgent torment in his chest. The short ride to Mercy Hospital seemed endless, but at last the vehicle came to a halt, the siren quieted and they pulled his stretcher out of the back doors of ambulance. Pam was waiting outside and flashed him her “I’m trying to be brave” smile. She walked with them as they entered the ER, but the nurse asked her to go to the desk for paperwork, so she squeezed his hand and said she’d be right back.

Once he got into the treatment area, things moved quickly. The doctor examined him immediately, and blood work and an X ray soon followed. They explained that he had a collapsed lung that had been punctured by one of his broken ribs, and that they needed to insert a tube in his chest to allow it to re-expand. Jim agreed without hesitation - he just wanted to be able to breathe again.

A quick numbing of a spot on his chest and the tube was in, and his breathing became much easier fairly quickly. His side still hurt like hell, but he no longer had to fight the panic of not getting enough air. While the nurse fiddled with his tubes, Pam appeared inside the curtain of his enclosure. As she walked over to his side, Jim managed a smile in spite of everything. She still had on that red dress.

The nurse interrupted his gaze. “Mr. Halpert, this is some pain medication I’m giving you - you should feel better very soon,” she said, pushing a syringe into his IV tubing.

Pam took his hand in hers and searched his face.

“Hi,” he said simply.

“Are you okay?” she asked, and he could see her lip quiver a little.

“Whoa!” he said, as he felt a sudden warmness and relaxation spread over his body. The pain in his side quickly distanced itself and a pleasant floating sensation overcame him. He was pretty sure he was smiling.
Pam’s brow furrowed, and she looked to the nurse, asking her, “Is he all right?”

Just then, the doctor ducked back into his enclosure. Jim was aware he was addressing Pam, explaining about his treatment, telling her that, barring any unforseen complications, he should recover fully. Jim felt his eyelids droop and realized he was getting very sleepy, so he interrupted their conversation to try and speak. “Thuh dog ish in the howsh,” he managed, but his words slurred and then he was no longer able to keep his eyes open.

“It’s okay, Mr. Halpert, just relax and let the medicine work,” the doctor patted his arm.

He heard Pam tell the doctor, urgency in her voice, “But I really need to tell him something. It's important.”

“What?” Jim wanted to ask, but his eyes wouldn’t open and his tongue wouldn’t work.

“It's okay, Ms. Beesly," he heard the doc reassure her. "You can tell him in a couple of hours when he wakes up. He’ll feel much better then. He’s going to be just fine.”

Nice to know, thought Jim, as he floated off into a surreal sleep. Nice to know.




.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.



Jim awoke alone, in an unfamiliar hospital room, and an overwhelming nausea hit him right away. The nurse walked in soon enough to get him a basin in time, but turned out there wasn’t much down there anyway. She had promptly given him a shot of something to quiet his stomach, and told him his fiancée had gone home for a few minutes.

Soon after that, she’d informed him that Pam had called to say she’d been delayed, and would be back soon. That seemed like forever ago. He wanted to talk to Pam. What was taking her so long? The churning in his gut was easing up, he rationalized, but he still felt miserable.

Jim was coming to the conclusion, while attempting to rearrange himself, that the bed was simply not quite long enough for him, when he heard someone at the door. His eyes shot up expectantly, but he was disappointed to see it was just the nurse again.

“Stomach better?” Did the shot do some good?” she asked sympathetically.

“Yeah, much better,” he answered, sincerely grateful. As unpleasant as throwing up was in a normal situation, it was excruciating with broken ribs.

“So, I called the doctor and he ordered you a different pain medicine. How about some Percocet?” She held up a little cup of pills.

“Could we..um..wait a few more minutes on that?” he asked.

“This is less likely to upset your stomach, and pain relief is important in your condition. We want you to take nice deep breaths – you don’t want to develop pneumonia, do you?”

“I just..it’s not that bad. I don’t want it yet,” he said hesitantly. He felt out of control and unable to gather himself. He wanted to talk to Pam. He wanted to be awake - he wanted to make sense. And he didn’t want to throw up any more. His ribs were beginning to throb, though. “Just a few more minutes?”

The nurse clearly thought he was making a bad decision, but she glanced at his tubes and sighed. “OK, just hit the button when you’re ready, then,” she said and walked out.

Jim continued to fidget. He couldn’t get comfortable no matter how he shifted his weight. His left side was tethered with his IV, his right side was tethered with the chest tube. He hated lying flat on his back, and every time he moved very much, it freaking hurt. He felt like a frustrated child, and he just wanted to talk to Pam. He wanted to see her face, hear her, feel her touch. Now.

Miraculously , there was a new knock on the door, and in walked Pam. He knew it was crazy, but he felt better immediately. He noticed her face was pinched with worry, so he gave her the best smile he could muster and a warm “Hi.”

It worked reasonably well. Her relief showed and she reached to grasp his hand. “Jim?”

“I’m glad you’re here,” he admitted as he squeezed her hand, and he was rewarded with a small smile. Not one that made it to her eyes, but a smile nevertheless.

“I’m glad you’re here, too, “ she whispered, looking down. “I was so scared. When I saw you.”

“I’m okay, Pam,” he reassured both of them. “I’m not sure what I said in the ER…the medicine…” his voice trailed off.

“I wanted to talk to you ,” she said, “but you were all weird.”

“I remember trying to tell you about the dog, “he recalled. “Did he destroy the house?” Jim asked, and that got an exclamation out of her.

“Oh my God! You would not believe. He pulled the toilet paper roll down and unrolled it into the dining room. He ripped one of the throw pillows in the living room to shreds – there are little foam bits all in that carpet. And he chewed a hole in the 40 pound dog food bag. There were kibbles all over the kitchen floor. I only found one accident though, and it was right by the back door. He tried.” She paused and the gravity of the night’s events returned. “The studio is a mess.”

A looming silence hung in the air as they both tried to figure out where to start about that.

“Hell of a night,” he finally said.

She nodded.

“Understatement,” he continued, lifting his eyebrows.

“Ryan took Ginny home and then he came back here. You were asleep and they said you probably wouldn’t wake up for awhile, so he took me back home to get my car, and I found the dog. That’s what took me so long.”

Jim nodded, and Pam continued. “Ryan’s trying to be nice. “ Pam tilted her head and her voice took on a hushed tone. “He said he opened the garage door and saw you…“ she paused, as if she was scared to finish, “…lunge up at Alex…from the floor and knock his hand up as the gun went off. He thinks you saved his life.”

“I might have,” Jim replied matter of factly. “But not on purpose,” he added with a wry look.

Another stretch of silence preceded her next question. “Did you think it was me?” she asked quietly, “At the door?”

He searched the room with his eyes before meeting hers again, and admitted simply, “Yes.” He could see her taking in the full meaning of that.

“I’ve never been so scared in my life,” he said truthfully.

“Jim,” she started, and her voice cracked along with her composure. “I am so sorry. I’m the cause of all this. I should have paid attention to what you said about him, but I never imagined.” The words escaped in a flurry.

“No.”

“I could have prevented all of this…” Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“No,” he said more forcefully. “You couldn’t have predicted this. I never imagined this either, Pam. I knew he had a thing for you but never suspected…”

“I should have,” she sniffled.

“No,” Jim said a third time, more kindly, shaking his head “no.”

“He tried to kill you, and now he’s in the ICU and….” Her voice fell off and she looked down.

“Not your fault,” he said. His hand shook slightly as he reached to lift her chin and wipe a tear from her face. “C’mon.”

Pam forced a smile. “I talked to Keisha and she said he’d been acting a little weird lately, but she didn’t see this coming either. She feels terrible.” She dabbed at her face with the back of her hand.

“Not her fault either,” he shifted in the bed and silently conceded that the nurse may have been right. “You know Pam, Alex was the person who followed you that night in New York.”

“What?” Her red eyes widened.

“Yeah, he told me he wanted to make sure you got home safely, since you’d been getting those phone calls. And he drugged you that night I came to New York. You weren’t drunk. He wanted to…get…” Jim shrugged a little, “..rid of me. He said this was his third try, so I guess it was him over at the apartment, too. He just didn’t have our new address.”

“Oh my God. He…he plotted? All that time?”

“Definitely.” Jim said, and he saw a new wave of guilt hit Pam, and watched as she absorbed this new information.

“Jim, he almost killed you.” She squeezed his forearm with her hand, as if to reassure herself that he was still there.

“Hey, hey, he didn’t. I’m gonna be fine,” Jim assured her as he attempted to turn in bed to face her better. He was more than ready for that pain medicine. “It’s going to be okay.”

She nodded hesitantly. “You know, Ryan told me tonight what he said to you. Before you came to New York.” She brushed a piece of stray hair from her face, and despite the fact she’d pulled herself together, he could tell there was a lot still going on under the surface with her. “You know, about holding me back.”

“To be fair I had him pushed into a corner when he said that, Pam. I think he was just trying to get back at me any way he could.” Jim tried to dismiss the incident, hoping to avoid the whole New York conversation right now. He didn’t have a lot of stamina left.

“I just want to make this perfectly clear. I’m happy here. With you,” she stated carefully, with clear meaning. “You know that.”

He smiled and said quietly but confidently, “Yeah.”

And finally, Pam smiled back.

Just then the nurse walked back in without knocking. “Sorry, I didn’t see you come in,” she said to Pam, but she didn’t leave. “Mr. Halpert, I really think you should take this now,” she said, holding up the small paper medicine cup.

“What is it?” Pam asked.

“The pain meds he’s been refusing for the past hour.”
Pam looked back at Jim with a frown, expecting an explanation.

“I just wanted to talk to you…and make sense, you know,” he stammered, unable to hide a wince when he shifted to look at the nurse. “And I didn’t want to throw up any more,” he said defensively.

“Jim?” Pam said, the apprehension and anxiety returning to her voice.

The nurse dug him in deeper. “I kept telling him it was important for him to take this on time – he needs to breathe deeply to prevent an infection in that lung.” He wished the nurse would just shut up. “But he insisted on waiting.” She directed her next comment to him. “This may not cause nausea like the IV meds did.”

“I’ll take it now,” he said quickly.

“This will probably make you sleep, though,” the nurse added.

Pam looked anxious, lips pursed in concern, silently gripping his arm. Then her expression changed and she said, “I’ll stay here with you until you go to sleep, okay?”

Wow, she got it. He could see it in her face. She understood.

“That would be great,” he agreed, and swallowed the pills.
They returned to lighter conversation about the dog, and over the course of the next ten minutes, he felt himself relax, and gradually the pain in his chest didn’t matter very much any more.

“What,” he asked sleepily, “did you want to tell me. In the ER?”

“You heard that? I thought you were unconscious,” she said.

“I could hear, but my tongue wouldn’t work,” he chuckled. He was feeling a lot better.

“I just wanted to tell you, um, that I love you,” Pam soothed him.

“Oh.” His eyelids were heavy, and he pulled her hand to his chest. “I love you. Too.”

Blinking his eyes, he tried to focus on Pam, but she kept blurring. Oh yeah, she was still wearing that great red dress. He was pretty sure he said out loud, “You look great in red,” and then the world just melted away.

***********


Saturday and Sunday were a blur of sleep, medicine, and pieces of various ballgames for Jim. Pam was there visiting when she wasn’t cleaning up the house and seeing to the puppy, but in his stupor he hadn’t been much of a conversationalist, and they really didn’t discuss anything of consequence.

By Monday, he was able to slack off on the pain meds, and he was more alert, feeling more his old self. Unfortunately, Pam had to be at work all day. He amused himself by making the unappealing food on his tray into interesting shapes and trying to freak out the nurses in various ways, usually unsuccessfully. They were a tough crowd.

He did have Susan the nurse going for awhile about the jello. He’d poked a hole in the bottom of the little jello cup, stuffed in a dead cockroach he’d talked the cleaning guy into finding for him, and she’d actually bought it for a few minutes. But they weren’t nearly as much fun to mess with as Dwight and Andy.

Finally that evening, after going home to see about the puppy, Pam appeared. She’d promised to bring him a few necessary items from home.

“Hey,” he greeted her cheerfully when she arrived.

“Wow, you look…better,” Pam said. She smiled a broad smile, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She was wearing that green sweater he liked so much, he noticed.

“Yeah, I might even make sense tonight. I actually feel pretty good.”

“That’s great,” she said earnestly, and she plopped the bag of clothes onto the foot of his bed.

“Thanks. Nothing like clean underwear,” he said, and they laughed, exchanging stories about the little stuff that went on in the hospital and the office, and the adventures of their puppy.

Eventually they got to another subject. “So, I hear they’re going to transfer Alex to New York tomorrow,” Jim said.

“I heard that from Keisha, too. His family wants him closer and he’s stable now. They say he’ll probably be in the hospital for a month, but he’ll eventually be okay. I mean, physically. I’m not sure about after that, but she heard he’d be in a special jail or hospital for the mentally ill or something. Pam finished, “Don’t take this wrong, but he was really a talented guy.”

“I understand,” Jim said, pushing the button to raise the head of the bed a little more. “Maybe he’ll end up being a great artist after all – guess he’ll have plenty of time to draw.” Jim knew there was still an edge to his voice. “ I just won’t be buying his work,” Jim said, lifting his eyebrows.

“Me neither,” Pam said.

“Pam?”

“Yes?”

“You realize that Van Gogh shot himself twice in the chest?”

“Oh my.”

“Yep” Jim punctuated the thought while they contemplated that irony.

“You’ve been reading my textbooks, haven’t you? “ Pam accused him.

“Well, I may have read up a little before that trip to New York,” he admitted. “And the sadness goes on forever.”

“What?” she looked at him, confused.

“Van Gogh’s last words.”

“I…” she started, but didn’t finish.

“I know he was your friend, Pam, and he – he has a bad illness. It’s okay to be sad it turned out this way for him. I understand.”

“But…” she protested halfheartedly.

“Aaand, as long as we never see him again I’m okay with that,” Jim added with a closed mouth smile, and she nodded.

He started to speak again and then hesitated.

“What?” she prodded gently.

“You know, it was a really strange thing to have someone pointing a gun at you.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“Thing is, I’ve always wondered how in the world a person could actually kill another person,” he said. “And now I know.” His long fingers absently twisted the cord to the call button as he spoke.

“He was completely out of his head,” Pam observed.

“No, I don’t mean Alex, I mean me.” He paused a beat, and then continued with candor. “ When I went after Alex, I wanted to kill him, Pam. The gun went off when we were fighting for it, but if I’d gotten control of it, there’s no doubt in my mind that I could have shot him dead. Would have. I absolutely would have.”
Pam furrowed her brow and looked at him with sympathy in her eyes.

“I don’t know, it’s just a weird thing to know about yourself,” he said, looking away. “To know that you’re capable of that.”

“You were protecting me,” she reminded him.

He nodded. “And I’d do it again,” he said matter of factly. “It’s just…weird.”

“It’s normal to defend yourself, Jim. And truthfully? I kind of like that,” she admitted with a mischevious grin. “it’s kind of hot.”

Jim was mortified to feel his face flush with color. How did she do that? he wondered, as a huge smile spread over his face and his world somehow seemed right again.

********




It was late Thursday afternoon and Jim felt silly sitting in the obligatory wheelchair outside the hospital, waiting for Pam to pull the car around. There was a rain brewing in the clouds, and the air was thick and heavy . It felt good to be outside. When the Yaris came into view, he rose slowly and carefully and thanked the nurse for everything. Other than the healing ribs, he felt fine and he couldn’t wait to get home. He’d rather be working at Dunder Mifflin than sitting in a hospital, and that was saying a lot.

The mood was celebratory on the way home, with Pam bubbly and cheerful, talking nonstop about the crazy day at work. She glowed, he thought, as he watched her speaking, so animated and alive.

“Guess what?”

“What?” he smiled.

“Ryan and Kelly are back together, “ she laughed.

“ No way.”

“Afraid so. He came by the office today to take her to lunch.” she continued. “He’s still on his religious kick, and she’s really upset he won’t spend the night at her apartment anymore,” Pam shook her head in disbelief. “By the way, you know Dwight is very impressed with you for what you did Friday night.”

Jim groaned. “I would have thought he would consider it part of my duty as a citizen or something.”

“No, I guess since you aren’t actually a deputy or anything, you get major credit . He did mention you must have learned something from him, though, “ she giggled. “Dwight was also trying to convince Ryan that he owes you a life debt, and I think Ryan half bought it.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah, Dwight was in rare form. But he was genuinely impressed. Seriously. I think you’re his new, brave hero,” she grinned with an evil glint in her eye.

“Oh Jesus, Pam, I was scared shitless and desperate.”

Pam shrugged, still half smiling when she braked for a red light. She turned to him and said, wiggling her eyebrows for effect. “One of the women policemen told me I should hang on to you. Said you were a keeper,” she winked.

“Oh come on..” Now she was just enjoying teasing him, trying to make him uncomfortable, and it was working. He shot her a dirty look.

She ignored him. “Your worst problem is going to be Kelly. She thinks you saved Ryan, too.”

His eyes widened in real fear at the thought of a grateful, fawning Kelly, as Pam pulled into a parking lot. It was the Thai place he liked so much.

She shot a questioning glance at him. “The usual?” she asked.

He grinned and nodded. Hospital food had been bad, and this was just what he needed. “Are you sure? I know you don’t like this much.”

“I’m not very hungry anyway,” she said.

“You know, why don’t you get two of everything I usually get. I’m hungry enough to eat for both of us.”

“You’ve got it,” she said, and headed in to get the food.


*************


Twenty minutes later, Jim walked into their home and at her insistence, took a seat at the kitchen table while Pam unpacked the food. “I can do that,” he started.

“Nope, you just sit there tonight. Let me do it. Oh wait,” she thought of something and headed straight out the back door. As she walked back in, he heard her call, “Voldemort, come here boy, your daddy’s home.”

A fuzzy bundle of energy galloped in the door, and Jim met Pam’s eyes with a silent question.

She nodded.

“Come here big guy, “ Jim cooed and the dog put his paws up on Jim’s thigh, wagging his tail furiously. He scratched the excited pup between his front legs. “Wow, you’ve grown.”

He looked up at Pam again, ”Are you sure?”

She nodded again, and Jim couldn’t suppress a big smile.

“Hey, Voldemort, you have the most awesome mom on the planet, you know that?” he asked the dog. He contemplated while he watched her open the foam containers of food on the table and get drinks for them. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he was sure she was still holding something back.

About to twist the cap off of a beer, she asked him first, “Can you have this?”

“You bet I can. I’m not on any medicines except that Advil.” A cold beer sounded heavenly. She was trying to make him happy tonight, and it was working. He lifted one of the skewers and bit into the first bite of peanut sauce slathered chicken. “Wow, this is so freaking good,” he said as he chomped on down the stick in a most ungentlemanly manner. “I thought I was going to starve in there.”

He thought more about the dog – maybe that’s what was bothering her. “You know Pam, you don’t have to name him Voldemort to please me…because of…what happened. You know? He’s your puppy.”

“I know. It fits. This is what I want,” she said decisively, and she popped open a Coke for herself.

“Okay, Voldemort it is, then,” he said, and the pup let out a little yip at the mention of his name.

“Besides, we have other names to pick out.” she said casually.

“Hmm,” he said absentmindedly, and reached down again to scratch the dog under his chest until his leg thumped. And then it hit him, and he sat upright a little too quickly in the chair. “Oww.” He pulled his forearm to his side involuntarily to cover his sore ribs. “What?”

Pam had a strange conspiratory look on her face, and it dawned on him.

“Pam?” he asked tentatively.

She nodded “yes”, and gave him a teeth together “yikes” look.

He thought he might explode, and a huge, giddy smile spread over his face. “Oh my God! Pam! “ he said, and stood carefully, pulling her into his arms.

“Wow! Wait,” he said, pulling back for a moment to look at her face. “Are you okay with this?” he asked. “How did this...” he stammered. “Wait. That sounds really dumb.”

Her eyes were liquid as she nodded her okay and smiled, “I must have forgotten to take my pills that weekend we came home from New York. I never forget, but that weekend…” her voice trailed off, and then she continued with new energy.

“The last two or three weeks things had been...weird... and I thought I might be – that’s what I wanted to tell you in the Emergency Room. Then I’d completely talked myself out of it, and this morning I took a test just to prove I wasn’t. And I was. It was positive,” she said with trepidation.

He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “Oh wow, Pam,” he whispered into her curls.

“I was upset, because this isn’t how we had it planned,” she continued and now she stepped back so she could see his face. “Then I thought about it and I knew what you would say.”

He was beaming. “I love you. I love that we’re going to be a family. God Pam, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. I mean, chicken satay, a dog named Voldemort, and a baby? Our baby? Doesn’t get any better.”

She lifted her arm to whack him and he put up both hands in real fear. “Oh sorry, I nearly forgot.” She admitted. “So sit down and eat while it’s still warm. We can talk sitting down, you know – besides, your ribs are still sore.”

He eased back down, and as she took the opposite chair, he asked, “Speaking of which, when did we, um, make this baby?” His brow wrinkled in thought as he dug his fork into the food. “When we came home from New York I was out of commission for awhile, as I recall,” he said, and stuffed an overloaded forkful of #308 into his mouth.

“There was that Wednesday night – it was Wednesday, wasn’t it…” she mused.

“Oh my God.” He exclaimed and then swallowed. “Pretzel night? When you…because I couldn’t …” His eyes widened. “This kid is going to be a contortionist.”

Pam giggled. “That had to be when.”

“Well, we may have to have a redo tonight. Because I’m in the same shape I was then – same bum ribs.”

“We’ll see about that,” she teased. “This kid may be scarred for life.”

***************

Later that night, they lounged in bed, spent and contented. Pam was drowsy, but Jim’s mind was in overdrive as he considered this huge new event in their lives. He had, afterall, gone from near mortality to immortality in less than a week, he reflected.

“This is amazing,” he said, reaching over to touch her abdomen lightly.

“Yup,” she answered with closed eyes and a hint of a smile.

“Pam?”

“Unhuh.”

“Do you want to get married in December?”

“That’s fine,” she said absently and snuggled a little closer into his good side.

“Pam?”

“Um.”

“Isn’t it weird how things happen in life?”

“How’s that?” she mumbled. “I’m sleepy. Aren’t you sleepy?”

“I mean if all that hadn’t happened in New York, this wouldn’t have happened, and...I don’t know. I guess now I’m glad it happened the way it did.” She didn’t answer.

“Pam?”

“Uh.” She was fading.

“I mean, are we going to have to name the baby Alex?”

“Jim!” That woke her up.

“Sorry.”

“Go to sleep,” she murmured.

“Do you want a boy or a girl?”

“Don’t care.”

“Do you want to take childbirth classes?”

No answer this time.

“Pam?”

Deep breathing.

“Good grief. Am I going to have to do this all by myself?” he said, as he heard the rain began to fall outside. He wondered if the studio roof would leak again.
Pam was snoring softly.

“I’m going to be a dad,” he said, staring at the ceiling in the dark.

Pam shifted slightly and resumed her snoring.

“Holy crap.”








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