In the moment before everything gets worse, Jim takes stock of his senses.

Sight. Karen, at her desk, eyes wide.

Sound. Angela's voice, phoning security in urgent whispers.

Smell. Roy's aftershave, and something else.

Touch. Pam, shielding him, arms outstretched, heels on his toes.

Taste. That slick sourness that precedes the purge.

He braces himself.

* * *

Jim came in this morning feeling pretty good. He'd survived the cocktail party, bonded with his boss's boss's boss, and woken Karen in the night to... well. He was feeling good.

If Pam seemed like maybe she wanted to tell him something, he ignored it. She'd had that expression for most of six months. He preferred to remember how Karen's skin had felt under his tongue. At least that wasn't a maybe.

He was on a call when someone jerked the receiver from his ear and slammed it into the cradle. The words "quarterly contingencies" dropped flat onto his blotter, and then the room was quiet. He looked up to find Roy staring at him, eyes wild, mouth open, and Jim's mind flashed on a time when the elevator had gone up more than down, and the closeness of Roy's belt buckle had been an invitation. He blinked. "What--?"

"You sneaky fucker."

"Roy, don't," Pam said, standing.

Roy ignored her. "How long, huh? How long did you plan it?"

"Plan what?"

"What was it? Some sick little revenge?"

"What?"

Roy threw a hand at reception. "You kissed my fiancée!"

The word sounded ridiculous in Roy's mouth, like he'd never actually pronounced it before. Jim struggled, because he had expected this months ago, had prepared for it, but now? Now it was like seeing someone choke at a restaurant, and realizing he'd forgotten how to do the Heimlich. He stammered, but Roy cut him off.

"She said you kissed her at that casino thing, after I left. What the fuck?"

Jim stood. "Whoa," he said, hoping to slow things down, hoping Karen wasn't following because that casino thing and the Dundies were two different events and the drunken kiss was the only one he'd told her about. "Let's go--"

Roy stepped forward and grabbed Jim's shirt. "Three weeks before our wedding, Halpert--"

"Wait--"

"Roy, stop!" Pam ran around her desk.

"Why?"

"Just--"

Pam fought to pry Roy's fingers away, elbowing Jim's chest in the process. A button hit his desk as she turned to face Roy, and stepped backward onto Jim's shoes. "Get out!"

"Why, Halpert?!" Roy roared.

"Because I love her, you stupid fuck!"

* * *

Pam's arms are frozen. So is Michael in his doorway, Karen in her seat, and most of the people in the room. He hears Dwight mutter, "I have to go," and hang up his phone.

Roy's jaw is set forward, his eyes closed. He shakes his head, and lets out a humorless bark. "Well, isn't that just fuckin' perfect?" He looks at Jim again and waves at Pam. "Did you tell her about us? Huh? You two have a good laugh?"

Pam turns to Jim, a question in her eyes.

Roy cocks his head at Karen. "How 'bout her? Does she know?"

Karen is staring at her hands, tears dripping from her chin.

Roy points at Angela. "I know you didn't tell her."

"Tell me what?" Angela squeaks, just as Pam whispers, "Angela?"

Tate arrives, nightstick in hand. His bored glare lands on Roy. "Let's go."

Roy looks at him, then throws his hands up. "Fuck this." He turns to Michael, who takes a step back. "I quit," he spits and stalks out. Tate follows.

Jim can feel their eyes drilling him full of holes. His hand reaches for his jacket, and then he's walking out the door, and down the steps, into open air and sunlight.

* * *

He's wondering if he'll ever stop seeing his life play out on shrubbery, when a light hand comes to rest on his neck. Her thumb crosses into his hair, rubbing lightly up and down, asking.

He nods, and she sits beside him.

In his mind, he sweeps his arms to gather the scattered pieces. Then he takes a deep breath, and begins to fit them together for her, all of them, finally.