Looking back, they never could agree on what exactly happened. Pam and Jim were the first ones in the office that Friday morning, and Pam decided she couldn't stand looking at that wreck of a supply shelf any more. She started pulling things off the bottom rows, and then grabbed the step stool from the kitchen as she worked on the higher shelves. While she worked Jim came over to chat. They were laughing over an observation Pam had made, and then Jim said something else that struck Pam as hysterical. She had actually doubled over with laughter while standing on the step stool, and in doing so started to lose her balance. Jim reached over to steady her while she reached for the metal shelving - and in a strange catastrophe of events - managed to topple the whole thing down on top of themselves.
The first thing Pam heard was Jim shouting “Fuck!” The shelving, now empty of supplies was not that difficult to push up and crawl out from under. Her legs felt a bit bruised up, but otherwise okay. She looked over to see Jim sitting on the floor, his right hand pressing against his left forearm, and blood everywhere.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” She asked, immediately moving to his left side.
“Well, except for this really nasty gash, sure,” he said, wincing in pain.
“Let me take a look,” she said, surprised at how calm she felt despite the fact his white shirt sleeve was seeped in blood.
Jim took his hand away and another gush of blood ran down his arm. Pam immediately placed both hands around his forearm, and squeezed as tightly as she could.
“Ow! Fuck, Pam, that's hurts!”
“You must have cut it pretty deeply so we need to apply pressure to get it to stop. Pull my cell phone out of my pocket. We need to call you an ambulance.”
“My hand is covered in blood, I'm going to ruin your clothes if I reach for it.”
“Like I care about my clothes,” she scoffed. “Just get it out of my cardigan.”
Jim wiped his hand against the front of his shirt and pulled her cell phone out. Jim dialed 911. In a voice surprisingly calm given how much pain he seemed to be in, Jim explained the situation and was told an ambulance would be dispatched immediately to their address. He hung up the phone and stuck it back in her pocket.
“They're coming,” he said. She gave him a sympathetic look, still maintaining pressure on his arm. “Nice one, Beesly.”
“I'm so sorry,” she said, feeling incredibly guilty.
He managed a smile. “I'm kidding, Pam. This isn't your fault.”
“Still, if I hadn't grabbed for the shelving to steady myself, or maybe if I hadn't taken all the paper off the bottom shelf - “
“You're right,” he interrupted her. “This is completely your fault. You are so going to owe me. Once I stop bleeding, of course.”
“I know,” she said miserably.
He put his hand on top of hers. “Hey, seriously. I'm kidding. I don't blame you. Accidents happen.”
She looked up at him, and he could see she was about to cry. “Stop. I'm the one who should be crying. You're doing an excellent job of preventing me from bleeding out.”
She laughed and tear rolled down her face. “Okay, but I just feel so badly about this.”
He reached over and wiped a tear from her cheek, resulting in a slight blood smear on her face. “Oops, I'm afraid I made things worse there.”
Pam laughed again. “Why not? What's a bit more of your blood all over me?”
They were still laughing when Michael Scott walked in. “Hey, what's going on? What happened to the supply shelf?”
“It fell over,” Pam explained, “one of the shelves came lose and cut Jim, and we are waiting on the ambulance to take him to the hospital.”
“Ambulance?” Michael said, alarmed. “Never mind that, I'll drive him over! How bad is it?” As he walked closer he saw the blood on both Jim's and Pam's clothes, and turned back around. “Oh my God, blood?! I can't stand the sight of blood. Pam you've got to get that cleaned up.”
“I have more important things to do here right now, Michael,” she replied, her limited patience with him already worn out. “Just go to your office and call maintenance and tell them they need to get this carpet cleaned as soon as we leave.”
Michael kept his back to them. “You mean you guys bled all over the carpet, too? Gross!”
“Sorry about that, Michael,” Jim replied. “Next time we'll put a sheet down or something.”
“Yeah, see that you do,” he replied, heading into his office.
Jim looked at Pam, and they both rolled their eyes in understanding. Her face was so close that he rested his forehead against hers. “Still hurts?” she asked softly.
“Like hell,” he replied.
She didn't like to see him in pain, but she couldn't deny being this close to him was heavenly. It was like the old days, when she never had to wonder if she was saying the right thing. It was the first time she'd really talked to him this week, as he'd been rather distant to everyone since he and Karen broke up. She'd found out on Monday when she overheard Karen tell Toby that they “weren't in a relationship worth reporting.” Later that day when Pam asked Jim if he was okay, he snapped that he was fine, and she let it go at that. Yesterday was the first time he'd approached her desk since then, and while he didn't directly apologize for being so brusque with her, he did mention that he'd been in a bad mood for most of the week. This morning it had seemed to her that he was trying to make up for ignoring her all week. And then this had to happen.
Pam moved closer so Jim could rest against her while she maintained pressure on his cut. She knew enough time had passed that she probably had successfully stopped the bleeding, but she didn't want to take any chances. Besides, when was the last time he'd actually been this close to her?
The ambulance technicians arrived ten minutes later, and Pam gently released her hold on Jim's forearm under their direction. It did not immediately bleed again, but as they moved his arm to cut away his sleeve, preventing further contamination, it started again. The techs applied a pressure bandage, and put him on the gurney for transport to the emergency ward at Moses Taylor Hospital.
Pam picked up the remnant of Jim's bloody sleeve off the floor. “I'll meet you there,” she told Jim as they wheeled him out, and he nodded his head.
“Thanks,” he said, “I appreciate it.”
Pam grabbed her purse and told Michael she didn't know when she'd be back. By the time she got to her car the ambulance was just pulling away, so she knew she wouldn't be too far behind. It wasn't as if Jim was in some sort of peril for his life - it was really just a deep cut, after all - but Pam's single mindedness in going along made her realize just how foolish she'd been all these months. Month after month of staying silent about how she felt about him, of keeping her distance when it hurt so much to do so. What if something worse would have happened to him today? She thought. How do I know I have the time to sit and wait for the right moment? What is the right moment? As she parked her car and made her way to the Emergency Room, she knew she could no longer afford the luxury of time. Not if she wanted to be happy.
The waiting room was crowded and noisy, and she felt slightly intimidated as she made her way to the front desk. “Excuse me,” she said, getting the nurse's attention. “A Jim Halpert was just brought in by ambulance with a deep forearm cut. Can you tell me where I can find him?”
The older nurse, who quite frankly had a look that scared Pam to death, peered over her bifocals at her. “We can't just release that information to anyone. What relation are you to the patient?”
Pam closed her eyes for just a moment and took a deep breath. “I'm his wife,” she replied, and felt a tingle at how good it felt to say that, even if it was totally untrue. She just prayed she wouldn't need to show identification.
The gruff nurse nodded slowly and typed something at her keyboard. “He's in exam room 22. Through those doors and on your left about halfway down.”
“Thank you,” Pam said, and headed quickly in the right direction. When she entered room 22, Jim was sitting mostly upright on the gurney bed, his eyes closed. The pressure bandage was still on, and they had put an IV in his right hand. She walked quietly up to his bed, and rested her hand on his right forearm.
“Hey you,” she said quietly, trying to gauge if he was awake.
His head turned in her direction and he opened his eyes slowly. “You got here fast.”
“It wasn't that far. I left the office shortly after the ambulance left. How are you feeling?”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Better. They gave me some pain medication through the IV, so it worked pretty fast.”
She squeezed his forearm. “I'm glad. Just close your eyes and rest.”
“You're not going to sneak out on me if I fall asleep are you?”
“No, of course not.” She reached behind her and pulled up a metal stool to sit on. “I'm here for the duration.”
“Give me your hand then,” he said softly. “I want to be sure I have a hold on you.”
She gently placed her right hand over his, curling her fingers under his palm, her thumb resting on his. “Are you sure I'm not hurting your IV?”
He shook his head. Or at least he tried to. Pam could tell he was already drifting to sleep. “It feels good,” he said before finally giving in to the pain medication. Pam smiled and rested her head again the metal side bars. It did feel good to hold his hand.
Jim seemed to be ignored by the staff except for a pleasant male medical assistant named Stephen who came in every thirty minutes to check Jim's temperature, pulse and blood pressure. The first time he wrapped the cuff around his right bicep, Pam was worried it would cause pain at the IV site. Stephen smiled and assured her it wouldn't, and sure enough Jim didn't even awaken. Pam made small talk with the assistant, and when Stephen assumed that Pam was Jim's wife, she once again confirmed it as true. She hoped Jim wouldn't mind too much when he woke up and she had to confess.
When Jim finally opened his eyes, nearly an hour had passed. Pam still held his hand, occasionally stroking his thumb with hers. He looked over at her. Her head was down, again resting against the bars, looking at their hands clasped together.
“Hey,” he said, and at his voice her head immediately lifted. She smiled at him, and he squeezed her fingers in response.
“Hey,” she replied. “That pain medication still helping?”
“Yes,” he replied. “What's been happening?”
“Not much. I've met a very nice medical assistant named Stephen who's been by to take your vital signs. I expect he's due back pretty soon.”
“Stephen, huh? Is he cute?”
Pam grinned. “He's okay. Not as tall as you, but dark haired and really nice blue eyes.”
“You set up your first date with him yet?”
Pam could feel herself blush a bit. “Well, that would have been pretty awkward given that they think I'm your wife.”
Jim's laugh was deep and it sounded so good to Pam. “My wife?” He looked over at her and she was pleased to see he was amused. “Is there something you forgot to tell me?”
“Well, I figure you probably have saved up a good deal of money now that you're Assistant Regional Manager, and if something were to happen to you here, I hated to see all those assets go to undeserving people.”
“I hate to break it to you, but I spend every dollar I make on frozen pizza and pay-per-view.”
She gently squeezed his hand as they gazed at each other. “I didn't want them to tell me that I couldn't see you because I wasn't family,” she finally said. “I hope you don't mind that I went with the title that held the most weight.”
He shook his head. “Not at all. You can be my wife.” He closed his eyes again, and rubbed his thumb against her fingers. “I'm so glad you're here, Pam.”
She felt her heart melt a little at his words. “You're going to be fine after a few stitches, you know,” she said encouragingly. “The fact we've been stuck waiting so long means they're not worried.”
“I know,” he replied. “That's not why I'm glad you're here.”
“Oh?” She suddenly felt a rush of hopefulness.
“I miss talking to you all the time. Always having you around.”
She smiled at his words, even though a part of her knew it was probably his pain medication talking.
She slipped her left arm through the side bars and rested it on his chest. His bed was too high for her to reach elsewhere. “I miss you too, you know,” she said. “I just wish you didn't have to get hurt in order to get some time alone with you.”
“I know,” he nodded, opening his eyes again. “It's been so -”
“Hard?” Pam suggested.
“Stupid.” Jim said. “My return here has been one big, stupid mess. And it's all of my own making.”
“No, it's not,” she said. “Why would you say that?”
“You don't understand,” he said. He looked at her, and Pam could see he looked conflicted.
“Then help me understand.”
He shook his head again. “I've treated Karen terribly, and hurt her in the process, when I should have known better. I was just trying to move on, you know?”
Pam thought that perhaps she did know. All this time she'd hoped he still loved her, even just a little bit. She hoped his words meant what she wanted them to mean. “Maybe you're not supposed to move on,” she said, feeling every nerve in her body shake.
“I don't know anymore. I'm starting to think I don't have a choice anyway.”
It was clear he missed what she was trying to say. “There are always choices, Jim. Some we just don't make the right time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I didn't marry Roy. That was a choice, and fortunately I recognized it as one before I did something I would have regretted. But you gave me a choice last May, and I didn't make the right choice.” She noticed his eyes grew larger at her words. “I mean, I still don't think I could have been with you then, but I should have told you that it didn't mean I didn't have feelings for you.”
“I see.”
“I could have made the choice to tell you that you hadn't misinterpreted anything. Even when you returned I could have told you. Hell, yesterday I could have told you. But I made the choice to be scared and say nothing.”
“And today? What's your choice today?”
She squeezed his hand. “To be here with you, and tell people I'm your wife.”
“and me?”
“To tell you that I love you,” she replied.
He stared at her for seemed like the longest time. “Can you tell me that again later, because I'm pretty sure the pain meds are making me dream this entire conversation.”
Pam laughed as he smiled at her. “You bet.”
Stephen the medical assistant then walked in with two men in long white coats.
“Jim, this is Dr. Fraizer and Dr. Reynolds,” Stephen said. “And they have come down to take a look at your arm and see about stitching you up.”
Jim nodded to each man, then smiled over at at Pam. “Oh, and this is my wife, Pam,” he said grinning. Pam shot him an amused look and greeted the doctors.
She sat silently as they removed the pressure bandage and took a look. Pam realized that for the last several hours Jim had had one sleeve down, and one sleeve up (well, completely off) - and it reminded her that she hadn't seen his shirtsleeves rolled up at work once since he came back to Scranton. Not once. She wondered why, and as the doctors conferred on a plan of treatment, Pam idly undid the two small buttons at his wrist, and slowly began cuffing up the sleeve on his right arm.
When the doctors stepped out of his room for minute, Jim spoke. “What are you doing?”
“Why haven't you worn your shirtsleeves rolled up since you've been back?”
Jim made a face. “I don't know. I never thought about it.”
“Yes, you did,” Pam replied. “You used to wear them up every single day before you transferred to Stamford. Since then you never do. There was a conscious decision somewhere, and I just want to know what it was.”
Jim thought a minute. “I guess I stopped doing that in Stamford because the office was so much more formal. Then when I came back to Scranton I was the new Assistant Regional Manager. I guess I felt I still needed to look more formal.”
“You don't.” Pam said, focusing her attention on making his cuff lay flat.”I don't like your sleeves down.”
He watched her. “I'm surprised you even noticed.”
She looked up. “Of course I noticed. I look at you every single day.”
Jim started to grin. “Every single day? Even on the weekends?”
“Oh yes. If I can't manage to peek into your bedroom window I just go spend some time alone in the shrine I keep to you in my bedroom closet.”
“And you prefer the sleeves rolled up?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
She smirked at him. “You're being difficult.”
“I just want to know why. If it's a better reason than why I keep them down, maybe I'll reconsider my stand on the matter.”
She ran her fingers down his now exposed right forearm. “I like your forearms,” she said slowly, feeling very awkward and shy at this line of questioning. “They're nice.”
“Uh-huh,” Jim said, grinning. “That's all?”
She stared at him. “You're making me blush.”
“I know. Continue.”
“Well, what do you want me to say?”
“Why do you want me to wear them up?”
“I just told you!” Pam sighed. “The only times I usually ever see you is at work, and what do you wear every day? Pants, long sleeves shirt, tie. The only skin I ever see is hands and face.”
Jim laughed. “Ah - the truth comes out. You check me out.”
“Like you don't do that to me?”
Jim just smiled and shrugged innocently. “That's not the issue here, Beesly. You like my sleeves rolled up so you can gaze lustfully at more skin. Don't you?”
She started laughing. “You caught me. I have a forearm fetish, and yours are the best I've ever seen. Happy now?”
The doctors chose that moment to come back into Jim's room. They decided to take him up to surgery to make certain no tendons had been cut. It was a relatively quick procedure, and when Pam was ushered into the recovery room he was already neatly stitched up and just about ready to go home.
When the release papers arrived to be signed, the nurse handed them to Pam. She shot a look over to Jim, whose ever expressive grin dared her to sign for him. She grinned back and signed Pam Halpert on all the papers. She promised the discharge nurse that'd she take him straight home and change the bandages twice a day. When the nurse walked out, Pam leaned on his bed railings.
“I guess you're staying with me for a couple of days then.”
“I guess so.”
“I mean, I did tell the nurse I would take care of you, and change your bandages.”
“You did. It would be bad manners to not follow through on that promise.”
They stayed there smiling inanely at each other. The nurse returned with Jim's prescriptions for pain medication and antibiotics, and a reminder to follow up with his doctor in a week. Hospital regulations demanded that all patients be wheeled to the exit upon discharge, so Pam was about to set off to go bring her car around to the main entrance.
“Hey, honey,” Jim called as he sat up, as the nurse stood by the bed.
“Hmm?” she murmured, turning back around.
“Not even going to kiss your husband before you leave?”
She couldn't resist that sparkle in his eye. “Oh, I'm sorry, dear. I guess I've been so worried about you I forgot what I was doing.” She walked over, put her right hand against his cheek and leaned in. She made sure she gave him a real kiss for being such a smart ass. When she pulled back, he looked both surprised and impressed. As she walked away, she overheard his nurse asking him how long they'd been married. She giggled all the way to her car.
She met him at the front entrance, and soon they were driving to his place to pick up essentials for the weekend. Jim told her that it wasn't absolutely necessary for him to stay at her place to recuperate, but she wouldn't have it.
“I promised your nurse, what's-her-name.” She continued to help him put clothes in his suitcase.
“Right, and I can see how keeping a promise to a woman you don't even know and will never see again might matter to you.”
“Don't you want to come over?”
“I didn't say that. I'm just giving you an out.”
She zipped up the packed suitcase. “Maybe I don't want an out.” Crossing her arms, she stared at him. “Are you coming over or not?”
He walked over to her, still wearing his blood stained clothing from this morning. Pam was still speckled with Jim's blood as well. “Only because you asked so nicely,” he grinned. The he leaned down and kissed her. It wasn't the passionate type of kiss you'd expect when two people finally come together after too much time apart. Instead it was the gentle kiss of acceptance, of knowing that things had now certainly changed, changed for the better, and that life was going to start moving along a much happier, much more relaxed pace. The passion would come.
When they reached Pam's apartment, she stopped him at the door. “Two rules before you walk in.”
“Go on.”
“Number one: don't you dare make fun of my decorating style.”
Jim grinned. “Would I? What's two?”
“Number two: stay out of my closet. My shrine to your forearms is sacred ground.”
Jim nodded, and they walked in. “Speaking of that,” he said, putting his suitcase down. “I probably should mention that I really am grateful you stayed with me at the hospital today.”
Pam smiled. “Oh, that's nothing. I wanted to be there.”
“Well, it's been a long day, and it wouldn't have been nearly as bearable without you.”
“Thanks.”
“So I just thought you should know I reached a decision.”
“And...?”
“You win.”
“I do?”
“Yes, starting Monday I'll start wearing the sleeves up again.”
“Yay!” Pam shouted, clapping her hands like she's really won something valuable. She hurried over and gave him a big hug, Jim's bandaged arm in a sling not withstanding. “That's just great, thank you! What changed your mind?”
He gave her kiss, much like the earlier one. “It makes you happy,” he replied. “And how can I not do something that makes you happy?”
Author's Chapter Notes:
Written as the second in the Jim Halpert: More than the Sum of His Parts series, this story focuses on our (Pam's) obsession with those fine forearms. Many thanks to the hussies (especially shroom!) who encouraged me to write this. Hope you all approve!
No forearms were actually injured in the writing of this fanfic.
Don't own them - I keep telling you people! Like you don't already know how it kills me to have to keep admitting it. No copywrite infringement intended.
time4moxie is the author of 77 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 26 members. Members who liked Pam Halpert and the Great Forearm Disaster also liked 2851 other stories.
This story is part of the series, Jim Halpert: More Than The Sum of His Parts. The previous story in the series is The Measure of Happiness. The next story in the series is The Kiss Toll.
