This is over my head
But underneath my feet
Cause by tomorrow morning I'll have this thing beat
And everything will be back to the way that it was
I wish that it was just that easy 

His deep, hearty laugh fills the office, and for a second, Pam allows herself to enjoy it.  The months when he wasn’t here are still fresh in her mind, so she’s able to enjoy the fact that Jim is at least back, and the office feels full and complete.

 But maybe it’s too full, because there’s a laugh that accompanies his, not just right now but always, low but undeniably female.  Pam watches them for as long as she can before turning away.

It’s been several months now, and you’d think Pam would be used to it. 

She isn’t.

She closes her eyes, sighing.  Her cell phone, on her desk next to the office phone, shows the “3 Missed Calls” alert on the screen.  Roy.  He’s been trying to call ever since they’d broken up two nights ago.

Pam isn’t sure what she’d expected to happen.  Maybe that actually being honest for once (because, as Oscar had said, honesty isn’t one of her strong points) would have somehow allow her to move forward.

And Pam really needs to move forward.  She had been, slowly and uncertainly, but still moving, after she’d called off the wedding.  Becoming independent, starting to do something for herself for a change (art classes), even admitting to herself how she really felt about Jim. 

Then Jim had come back, dating Karen, and Pam had began moving in slow motion.  They’d become more open about their relationship at work, and Jim and Pam were almost further apart then they’d been when he was in Stanford, and Pam had found herself standing still, frozen in her shock and distaste with her new reality.

Then she’d gotten back together with Roy, and all of a sudden she was moving backwards.

It’s embarrassed her to think about.  All that clarity she’d experienced after Jim’s confession, the realization that she’d been settling, that Roy couldn’t give her what she needed or deserved…all of that had disappeared.

Well, the clarity had come screaming back two night before, at the bar.  Roy is still Roy, even under the overly cautious manner and uncertain compliments. 

The door to the office swings open, both interrupting and confirming this thought, and suddenly everything’s moving in slow motion again.

Roy steps in, the look on his face murderous, but still rational: it’s determined, purposeful.  His entrance goes unnoticed by everyone but Pam; it only takes her a second to realize why he’s here.

“Roy-“  The warning dies, useless, on her lips, but it’s enough to make Jim turn around just in time to see Roy’s fist rise and come flying at his nose. 

Jim barely has time to shove Karen out of the way; not that it matters; Roy had been aiming at Jim’s face and he connects with a sickening thud of knuckles meeting bone, and Jim crumples to the floor, too taken aback to have prepared himself.

The slow motion stops for a second to move at warp speed, because the next thing Pam knows she’s out from behind her desk and is half crouched in front of Jim, who has pulled himself up slightly and is leaning against his desk, one hand cupping his nose, looking slightly shell shocked.  Roy’s fist is already coming, and it connects with the bottom of Pam’s left cheek, right against the jaw bone, as she moves in front of Jim.

She barely feels the pain.  Instead, Pam fixes Roy with a glare, trying to look forceful and ignore the rapid pounding of her heart and the sudden weight on her back that she’s almost sure is Jim’s hand.

“Pam, get out of the way”, he spats through clenched teeth, his tone commanding.  He’s still standing, towering over them.  The entire office has gone silent.

“No.”  There’s no fear in her voice, even though Pam’s sure she’s shaking.

“PAM!”

“Don’t touch him again.”  This time, it’s her voice that’s commanding.  “He didn’t do anything to you.”

“He kissed you, Pam!”  It occurs to Pam that there’s no hurt there, just anger.  Bruised ego more than anything else.  It’s pathetic.  “He had feelings for you!”

“I did the same thing!  Both of them.”   She doesn’t really hear the phrasing until the words have left her mouth;  she wonders if they were as revealing as she thinks.  “And I’m worse, because I was the one engaged to you.  So if you need to vent this obviously overpowering rage, I’m right here…or maybe you can destroy another bar.”  Her voice is dripping with disgust; it’s unfamiliar to her.   “But you’re not touching Jim again.” 

His voice dangerously quiet, Roy hisses, “Get out of the way.” 

“No.”

They glare at each other, then Roy laughs, a manic, frightening sound and he moves from in front of them to Pam’s desk.  “You want me to vent?! Vent?!”  He sweeps his arms across the front of her desk, sending the In/Out Trays flying, the jellybeans and their jars tumbling to the ground among a sea of paper.  “How’s that for venting, Pam?!”  He moves to the other side of her desk and starts pulling things down.  Then, he laughs again, and holds something up in his hand.

The teapot.

“Oh, hey, I recognize this!  Your Christmas gift from Halpert!  Isn’t that sweet?” 

            It’s like an invisible, ice cold hand has grabbed hold of her insides; Pam can hardly breathe.  “R-Roy…don’t”  Her voice shakes, betraying fear for the first time.

             “Didn’t you, didn’t you trade an iPod for this, Pammy?  Must be a pretty awesome teapot.  Hey!”  He looks away from Jim and Pam for the first time, his eyes scanning the dumbfounded staff.  “Anyone think this is better than an iPod?!”

            Silence.

            “C’mon, I want to know.  Teapot or iPod?  Is this better?”

            After a moment’s hesitation, Michael, who’s been hovering in the door of his office, comments in a small voice, “Well of course not.  Nothing was better than the iPod.”

            Roy points a defiant finger at him.  “Exactly!  Not better.  Well, Pammy, hope it was worth it.  You want me to vent, fine…”  He slams the teapot down, and what was once one of Pam’s most treasured possessions is suddenly just a pile of teal glass.

            The color leaves Pam’s face and Roy shoots her a twisted smile.  “I feel a lot better now.”  He turns, walking toward the door, pausing to tear the framed watercolor of the office building from the wall and slam it on the ground.

            The door slams with a resounding thud, and silence prevails for a moment. 

            Unable to make herself look at Jim, or Karen, who’s still standing somewhere to the side, Pam moves forward a little, kneeling over the remnants of the teapot, and suddenly she gives in to the tightness in her throat and the stinging in her eyes.

            She’s crying, at the worse possible moment; kneeling in the middle of her staring, silent colleagues, Pam covers her face with a hand and sobs.

            Surprisingly, it’s Michael who takes charge.  “Jim, buddy, that nose looks pretty disgusting, to be honest with you.  We’re going to need some ice.”  Phyllis and Kelly dash off toward the break room.  “Someone needs to take care of…that.”  He sweeps his hand at the disaster area in front of Pam’s desk, and Toby and Oscar move forward, bending down to their knees and begin gathering up the fallen items. 

            Phyllis gets back first with a towel wrapped around ice cubes.  She hands it to Jim, but he moves forward a little and tentatively puts a hand on Pam’s back.  “Pam?”  It’s the first time he’s spoken since Roy came in.

            She turns, embarrassed about the torrent of tears making their way down her cheeks.  Jim’s nose is bleeding badly, the effect on the rest of his face frightening.  There’s an odd look in his eyes: a strange combination of shock, detachment, and concern.  She has to fight a new wave of sobs when she sees the damage done, but he doesn’t seem concerned with himself.  He reaches out with one hand and touches the spot on her cheek that’s tender and, suddenly, sore.  Where Roy hit her.  Instinctually, he wipes away the few tears that have hit there, and lets his fingers rest on her cheek.

            Her eyes meet his.

            Time stops moving.

            Then his lips part uncertainly, and he says softly.  “That’s already starting to bruise…here…”  He puts the towel and ice over the bruise.  Pam stares dumbly at him for so long that he takes her hand and guides it up, forcing her to take hold of the homemade icepack. 

            Pam finds her voice again, thankfully, but it’s that horrible thick voice that always comes after crying, and it’s still quavering all over the place as she tries to control her sobs.  “You should…you need it more.” 

            He shakes his head, smiling nervously and slowly backing up, his eyes not tearing from hers.

            “Jim?”

            They both look up quickly, the moment that had stretched for so long broken.  Karen is standing over them, and for a brief second Pam is reminded strikingly of Roy.  For even though Karen is holding another towel full of ice rather than holding up a clenched fist, there’s still a look on her face, and her tone is a bit more accusatory than seems appropriate for an injured boyfriend.

            He smiles, though, and reaches out to take the ice.  “Thanks.” 

            “Are you okay?”  Her tone still hasn’t softened.

            “Yeah, I’m fine.”  His voice is almost dismissive.

            Karen hovers awkwardly, waiting for him to stand up.  Then she just nods her head in the direction of his desk and says.  “Come on…”

            “Sure, okay.  Yeah.  One second.”  He looks back at Pam, who’s clutching a piece of the tea pot in her hand, tears still streaming from her eyes.  Indicating the teapot with his eyes, he tells her, “Don’t…”  Don’t what?  Don’t worry about it?  He can’t tell her it’s not a big deal, because he so wants it be that important to her.

            “I’m…”  Pam is hyper aware of Karen’s eyes boring holes in the back of his head, since he’s turned his back to Karen to be able to meet her eyes.  “I’m so sorry.” 

            He nods, a lump appearing suddenly in his throat.  Unlike Pam, he’s completely unaware of his girlfriend’s presence.  Pam moves the ice pack suddenly, and he lifts a finger to touch the bruise again.  “Does it hurt?”  He mutters.

            Her red rimmed eyes widen and lock on his.  “It really does.”  She whispers. 

            He understands.

            Nodding once more, Jim stands up and turns away from her, walking with Karen toward his desk, or maybe hers.

            Pam glances around for the first time.  The office is back to a stir of activity, slightly more subdued than usual, but still closer to normal.  Most everything on her desk is back on it, if not organized, at least off the floor.  Things are moving again.

            Except that she’s still sitting in front of her desk, her left hand numb from holding the ice and her right hand clutching pieces of a broken tea pot.

            “Pam, may I see you in my office for a quick sec?”  She turns and Michael’s looking down at her.

            A few minutes later, Michael’s leaning forward on his elbows, staring at her across his desk.  “That was definitely heroic and, if I may say so, romantical of you.  Well done.” While he shoots her what is meant to be a congratulatory grin, Pam stares down at the teal glass shards in her laps, still clutching the ice pack, trying desperately to pretend that the tears have stopped.

            Michael presses on anyway.  “Sacrifice and all.  I was mucho impressitivo. And…” He lowers his voice conspiratorially and offers her a huge, exaggerated wink.  “…I bet anything Jimbo was, too.”

            Pam swallows a couple of times until she’s confident she can talk.  “I don’t think it matters, Michael.”

            “Sure it does.  You practically just told the entire office you have feelings for him.”  Pam stops studying the shards of glass in her lap and looks up at Michael.  Had she said…  “You know, the sacrifice and everything.  Pretty obvious.”

            “Oh.” She pauses, her fingers absently brushing at her cheeks.  “He’s with Karen, so…”

            “Exactly.  So?”  Michael leans forward, the look on his face making it clear that he knows he’s about to impart wisdom.  “He’s not married.  He’s not even engaged.  He was crazy about you…that doesn’t just go away.”

            She gives a short, bitter laugh, and squeezes her eyes shut against fresh tears.  Right.  Because it took him so long to find someone else.  Because it was so hard for him to leave her behind.

            “You should tell him.”  Michael says.

            She looks up at him, and it’s a mark of her slowly disappearing grip of sanity that she actually confides in Michael.

            “I can’t.”

            “Why?”

            “Because…”  She laughs again.  The sound still surprises her; she was never much for bitter laughter.  Her voice takes on a mocking quality.   “Because honesty and courage are not my strongest qualities.”

            Michael eyes widen; he’s genuinely surprised.  “What are you talking about?  Courage?  What about the heroicness?  All that?  That’s courage?”

            Pam stares at him.  That wasn’t brave.  That had been easy. 

            “I’m going to…I’m going to go, Michael.  I have to get my desk reorganized, so…”

            “Oh, sure, okay.  Gotcha.  Just…think about it, okay?”  He’s nodding, squinting at her in what he clearly believes to be an understanding way.  “Tell him.”

            She forces a smile and leaves his office, but instead of heading back to her desk, Pam just places the glass shards and the towel with the ice on the corner and heads to the bathroom.

            She sighs at her reflection.  Her eyes are red rimmed and puffy, her face streaked with tears.  She looks horrible.  A bitter grimace washes over her features as she thinks of Karen, flawless even with that suspicious, sour glare on her face. 

            Pam glances at her watch.  Jesus.  There’s still several hours to go in the workday.  She just wanted to go home, but it seemed like the day did not just stop with Roy’s confrontation.

            Her mind is suddenly pulled back to the gentleness of Jim’s voice when he’d handed her the ice; full of concern, as if his nose wasn’t pouring blood.  As if he hadn’t been the target.

            As if it hadn’t been her fault.

            The very recent memory is enough to bring another choking wave of sobs into Pam’s throat; she squeezes her eyes shut tight enough to keep them back, even though there’s not really a point.  She’s alone now.  That might have been helpful twenty minutes ago in front of the entire office.

            She’s not ready to go back out there; she’s not ready to see Karen perched on the side of his desk, maybe holding the towel over his face and whispering to him. 

            Though she tries to tell herself it’s the embarrassment, the shaky feeling left over from Roy’s “visit”, that’s making her reluctant to go out, Pam knows that’s not true.

            She’s not ready to return to normal.  Not when her cheek is still tingling, and it’s not so much from the fist impact than the softness of Jim’s careful touch.  Not when she can still almost feel the intensity of his gaze.

            She stands against the door to one of the stalls for almost twenty minutes when the unmistakable sound of footsteps in the break room startles her.  She has a sudden, panicked vision of Karen appearing, ready to confront her on anything that just happened, and the image is enough to make Pam grasp the door handle and swing the door open.

            Jim’s standing there, one arm up, a fist made, ready to knock.  He looks startled to see her, and for a moment they just look at each other.

            He smile awkwardly.  “Hey.”  His arm drops suddenly. 

            Trying to ignore the heat rushing to her cheeks, Pam smiles back, a little flustered.  “Hey.  How’s your nose?”

            He grins.  “Well, I think it’s swollen at least twice its normal size.”  He peers past her at the tiny corner of the mirror that’s visible from the doorway.  “Oh, never mind, it was always like that.  Bummer.”

            She giggles, and it feels good.  “Shut up, there’s nothing wrong with your nose.”

            He looks pleased.  “Thanks.”

            Pam edges forward, closing the door behind her.  “You need something, or were you just stalking the women’s restrooms again?”

            He shrugs.  “What can I say, Pam, I’m a creature of habit.”  She giggles again, then his eyes become serious.  “Actually…you’ve been in there awhile, and I just…I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

            Her heart aches a little, still taken aback by all that concern.  “I’m fine.”  She tries to sound dismissive.  Her face changes and she fixes him with a powerful gaze.  “Jim, I am so so sorry that he did that-“

            “Hey, c’mon.  It’s not your fault.”  His tone really is dismissive.

            “No, it…I never would have told him if I’d known he’d…do that.”

            Jim’s expression changes instantly, curiosity washing over his features.  “Told him…what, exactly?”

            “Um…”  She pauses, chewing nervously on her lips.  Even as she tries to get the phrasing right, come up with the shortest possible version of a long story, something in the back of her mind protests.

            This part repeats voices.  Oscar’s, talking about her lack of honesty and courage.  Michael’s, telling her to just tell him.

            Honesty.

            “Okay, um…maybe we should sit?”

            The way Jim’s eyes dart almost automatically through the blinds at the office does not go unnoticed, but Pam tries to ignore it, especially when he smiles and nods.  “Sure…”

            They sit, unconsciously taking their usual chairs, even though it’s been awhile since they both sat there, just the two of them.  He fixes her with a searching look.  “What is it, Pam?”

            Her eyes move instinctively down to her folded hands, but the word courage echoes in her eardrums, so she forces them upward.  “Well we broke up.  Obviously.  I mean…that was so stupid in the first place…”  She trails off, embarrassed, and is surprised by the momentary change in Jim’s face.  An almost bitter, ‘well, duh’ sort of expression.  It shakes her briefly, but then she’s able to keep going.  “Anyway, I…I told him about us.”  Jim’s eyes widen a little, a million questions on his face.  “Casino Night.  I thought…I thought if I could just be honest I could get past….”  She trails off again, because she can’t see how to get from here to where she ultimately hopes to get: the real truth.

            She just plunges ahead.  “He didn’t take it well.  Obviously.  But I had no idea he’d….”  She winces a little.  “I never meant for you to get hurt.”  He looks away briefly.  “But it was all my fault.  Because…if I’m going to be honest, I shouldn’t have started with him, not when I still haven’t been honest with…with you.”

            That gets his eyes back on her; in fact, he’s almost leaning forward, his eyes darting all over her face in a scrutinizing manner.

            “Jim…”  There’s a catch in her voice suddenly.  Pam closes her eyes briefly; there’s a lot more she could say, keep rambling for awhile, but why bother?  Just say it.  Be honest.  God, nothing would be more honest. 

            Her voice is a whisper, but the impact is strong.  “Jim, I’m in love with you.”

            He leans back, immediately, as if he’d been hit with the weight of the words.  That’s the only change, though; his expression doesn’t waver, his eyes don’t leave hers.

            Pam has to fight the urge to keep talking.  Talk about how she knows it’s the wrong time, how she’s been in love with him for so long, how she’s sorry she was too stupid to realize.  How she wants a second change.  But she does fight it, preferring to just let the words echo around them while she wait for his reaction, overly aware of every resounding beat of her heart.

            Two excruciating minutes of silence pass between as Jim just looks at her expressionless, and finally Pam tentatively ventures, “Jim?”  No change.  “Jim, please…just tell me what you’re thinking.”

            Another minutes passes, and the most eventful occurrence is that Jim folds his arms in front of him and tips his chair back slightly.

            More desperate this time, she says, “Jim, please-“

            The door to the break room swings open and Karen’s there.  “Jim?”

            “Yeah, coming.”  He practically leaps from the chair and doesn’t spare Pam a backward glance as he speed walks from the room.

            Pam sits, stunned, staring after him.  She blinks back tears, sick of crying but unable to stop it.  That’s not how that was supposed to go. 

            Time stands still. 

            And she’s stuck in the most horrifying, dizzying moment.