The last thing she remembered clearly was Jim glancing at her, a half grin on his face.
The rest — the sudden bright light cutting through the night and blinding both Jim and Pam as they sat in the car, driving through the green light, her own horrified scream of, "Jim!", the squeal of tires on wet pavement — it was all a blur.
Her head was pounding, her ears felt clogged, and her eyes were heavy. Her entire body, in fact, was heavy. But as her mind finally began to clear and sense returned to her, all she could think of was Jim and the baby, Oh, God, the baby. She fought to open her eyes, to rejoin the world of the living, to reassure herself that everything was okay.
It had to be.
She heard voices. No one sounded panic. She wasn't uncomfortable, not really, and she didn't feel glass or blood or even rain. Maybe it had all been a bad dream? The fog was gone from her ears, and before she even realised it was possible, her eyes were flickering open.
Everything was blurry. She didn't have her glasses. She tried to sit up and was immediately hit by a wave of exhaustion. She was in a bed, but that was all she could process before the dizziness overcame her and she crashed back against the pillows. She took a gasping breath and her throat burned.
Machines started beeping rapidly around her and she blinked her eyes rapidly, once more trying to push herself into sitting position. "My God," someone muttered, and her head snapped to the voice. She tried to say something, but nothing came out. "Page Dr. Abbott, now," the voice went on. "Tell him Beesley is awake."
Pam trained her eyes on the woman in front of her as she approached. It was a nurse. She was in a hospital. "Hello, Ms. Beesley," the nurse greeted kindly, her eyes trying to catch Pam's. "Can you look at me? Pam?"
"Halpert," Pam rasped. At least her voice was working again. Her head started back in surprise at the flash of light. The screech of tires echoed in her ears. She blinked again, wishing the nurse would put down the flashlight instead of shining it in her eyes. "My name's Halpert now."
"Do you know where you are, Pam?" the nurse asked as her hands reached out and began checking Pam's pulse and then her heartbeat, pulling back to scribble something on a clipboard.
Pam shook her head. She really wished she had better vision. "The hospital?' she guessed.
"That's right," the nurse said, and Pam could just make out the kindly smile on her voice.
"But — but what happened?' Pam asked. It seemed she was okay. Somehow she had made it to the hospital. But she didn't matter. "Jim?" Pam pressed. "Where is he? Is he okay? Did they bring him in, too?"
"Pam —"
"And the baby!" Pam exclaimed, panic rising inside her. Her stomach was flat. She ran her fingers across it, tears welling in her eyes. Her baby. Oh God. She hugged herself. Where was Jim? He had to be okay; he had to be.
"What's going on?" There was a man in the room, one with shockingly bright red hair.
"She's confused, but all her vitals are good," the nurse explained. "Pam," she said, turning away from the man. "This is Dr. Thomas Abbott."
Pam opened her mouth to one more demand about her husband and baby, but the doctor didn't give her a chance. "Follow my finger, Ms. Beesley," he instructed. Pam did as she was told. "How are you feeling? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Pam insisted. "But what about my husband? Where is he? Did they bring him in with me?" She clutched at the man's coat sleeve before he could pull away from her. She wouldn't let him run away without answering.
"Your fiancé is fine, Ms. Beesley," he told her. "He barely had more than a scratch on him, and a nurse has already called him. He should be here any minute."
"My husband," Pam corrected, her voice a whisper. She was growing tired by the second, her arms were still tight around her flat stomach, and her vision was still blurred. The doctor and nurse were talking, were discussing her, but Pam couldn't follow their quick voices. "Dr. — Dr. Abbott?" she asked. "How's my baby?"
The man frowned. "Ms. Beesley —"
"Halpert," she interrupted. She was so proud of that title. How could they not know it? Could this night possibly get any worse? The doctor and nurse glanced at one another.
"PAM!" The nurse nearly went flying as Pam's mothered barrelled into the room. A small wave of comfort and relief washed over Pam at the sight of the older woman, her best friend, the person she loved most in this world, second only to Jim.
Her mother had her arms around her an instant later, and Pam pressed her face into her mother's sweet smelling hair. "Oh, sweet baby girl," her mother whispered, clutching her, "my sweet, sweet Pammy."
"It's okay, Mom," Pam assured, returning her mother's embrace tightly. "I'm okay."
"Oh, I know you are, I know," her mother said, her voice teary as she pulled away from Pam. She stared at her a second, her bottom lip trembled, and she pressed a kiss to Pam's forehead before embracing her again. "Oh, I knew you would be okay," her mother wailed, rocking with Pam.
"Let the girl breath, Helene."
Pam broke away from her mother to see her father standing in the doorway. "Daddy," she greeted. Was her whole family here? How long had she been out of it?
"Hey, baby girl," he greeted. He stepped closer, and to her utter relief, he held out a pair of glasses to her. She grasped them with a grateful smile and put them on to see that he wore a sheepish look. "I thought you might need them."
Pam's mother sat beside her, stroking her hair, and Pam almost felt like a little girl again, like she was seven and had just had a cast put on her broken arm. She smiled in between her parents, but her mind was still whirling and her baby was still gone and she needed Jim.
"Mom," she asked hesitantly, "what happened to the baby? Is it —?"
Her Mom tilted her head at her in confusion. "Sweetheart, what are you . . . what baby? Your cousin Lacey's? He's fine, Pammy. Why would you be worried about —?"
"No, no," Pam shook her head.
As if he knew how overwhelmed she was, the doctor interrupted the conversation. "You need to take it easy, Ms. Beesley. Your body has been through a great deal, and you'll need a few days to adjust and a few weeks before you're back on your feet again. Don't rush, alright? You're going to be fine, but you need to give your body the rest it needs."
Pam nodded numbly. "But Jim?" she asked the doctor. "You said he was fine, right?"
He looked at Pam's parents, and her eyes were drawn to them, too. "Baby," her mom began. "Do you mean Jim Halpert?" Who the hell else would she mean? "I'm sure that Jim's fine, Pam. He's even visited you a few times. But I don't understand why —?"
Pam's heart was racing. "How long have I been in here?" she asked.
Her parents glanced at one another. "Two months," her mother finally replied. Pam's jaw dropped. "We've been so worried about you," her mother went on, her voice wet once again as she tucked a lock of Pam's hair behind her ear. "You were in that accident and then you had all those surgeries and you pulled through but you've been comatose and. . . . But I knew you would pull through. I knew it."
"But Jim's okay?"
"Why are so concerned about Jim, honey?" her father asked. He glanced at the doctor.
"She's probably disoriented," the doctor explained. "Give it time." Pam had already had enough of the man. How was her asking after her husband a complicated, disoriented thing? She wished her head wasn't still so muddled, so heavy and painful. She wished her whole body didn't ache so much.
"I'm concerned because he was in the car with me," Pam snapped, "and he's my husband."
It was silent, and Pam didn't miss the way her mother's eyes went wide. Something hadn't happened to Jim, right? Of course not — they were confused for no reason. The only thing that should be shocking about this whole situation was the fact that Jim wasn't already by her bedside.
"Sweetheart," Pam's mom said. She couldn't seem to come up with anything else. Her father looked at the doctor again. Before anyone could say another word, however, yet another person entered the scene.
"Pam," he breathed. He rushed toward her only to come up short, as if unsure how to act. His face was panicked and white with disbelief. "You're okay," he said, and relief and happiness danced in his eyes. He swallowed thickly, and she was still staring when he swooped over her, pressed a quick wet kiss to her lips, and hugged her.
It was Roy.
It was then that Pam realised something much, much worse than anything she could have ever imagined was happening. Roy released her, but she didn't look at him. She looked at her hand, at the diamond ring that sat on her left ring finger.
It was the wrong ring.
The alarmed shouts of her parents filled her ears as blackness swept over her.