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.

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Twisting the Knife

He had only very recently become able to keep his eyes closed when she kissed him. Karen had never caught him, thank God, but during the numerous times she had flung herself at him and surprised him with a long, tender kiss, Jim had always managed to sneak a peek, to open his eyes long enough to force himself not to imagine her. Pam.

Jim had always been a bit of a softy. Although tall, athletic, and naturally gifted, he had never amounted to half the basketball player his high school coach had envisioned. He just wasn't mean enough. He had great parents and a happy childhood. He didn't have a big brother to beat him up when he was a kid. He could never hate his opponents with the kind of "I want to kill you" rage that raises the game of top athletes when the prospect of defeat is near. Jim could not artificially generate this kind of anger. It had to be genuine, and there was precious little in his life that he could be genuinely angry about. Ironically, the best basketball of his life had been played years after his last competitive game, not in any gym but in a small warehouse with no lines and portable rims. If only he could have generated that kind of anger at will...

Jim headed into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face. He stared at himself in the mirror. He had just scared himself more than a little bit. Where did he find the hate that had allowed him to be so cold, so damn cruel. He had twisted the knife in her, in Pam. Pam. The woman he had loved more than anything in life. The woman who less than a year ago could make him feel weightless with merely a casual glance and a knowing smile. He had cradled her in his arms in so many dreams, carried her off into so many idyllic nocturnal sunsets.

She had been defenseless, sitting alone in the break room, looking so burdened, so very weary. Until recently, he would have instinctively rushed to her side to console her, to comfort her, to ease her pain. The Roy incident had been the final straw. He instead followed his new instincts, and kicked her when she was vulnerable. He had casually blown off her apology, refusing to make eye contact with her at all. He had known exactly what he wanted from the vending machine, but he had intentionally lingered there for a painful moment, enjoying feeling her silent discomfort, before turning to leave, making sure to turn his body to the right to avoid accidental eye contact. She had tried to profess, to confess really, that she had moved past Roy and all the poison that he represented, and his dismissive verbal jab of her confession was the killer. He didn't have to spell it out for her. She knew. I used to love you, and now I don't. It cut even deeper than that. I used to believe in you, Beesly, and now I don't. I've given up on you. He had genuinely enjoyed hurting her like that. This was new. This was not the gentle, sensitive-to-a-fault, Jim he thought he knew. This was scary.

Scary as it was, though, he couldn't stop himself. Three years. He had endured the daily emasculation, the humiliation, the pain. She was everything to him. He was a distant second to her, behind that oafish dimwit that passed for her fiance. Now she was paying the price. She could have had him so very easily at any time, but she had refused to see the better man right in front of her face. She had left him broken, alone, not feeling like a man at all. He rarely showed Karen any affection at the office. Recently, though, whenever Pam was nearby, he made sure to have his hand around her waist or on her back, gently stroking her hair. Karen seemed genuinely flattered, and hadn't yet picked up on the suspicious timing of his new found cuddliness. She was a cool chick. Fun, hot, and most of all, into him. He hoped he could love her someday. He already loved how she made him feel like a man again.

The Tuesday after the Roy incident, he arranged for flowers to be delivered to Karen at the office. No occasion. Just a nice romantic surprise. Un-Halpert-like to say the least, but he was evolving. Best of all, Pam had to sign for them and deliver them. She was humiliated. Karen looked over at Jim, beaming. As he smiled back at her, he was focused more on the image in the corner of his eye... the forlorn, exhausted, thoroughly beaten look on Pam's face as she slinked back to her desk. He had ordered the obnoxious kind of flowers, with the big balloons and everything. He knew they would he hard for her to ignore. Plus Karen seemed to like them. He was trying with her. He really was.

The Wednesday after the Roy incident was shaping up to be another good day. Jim had secretly bought 2 bags of Herr's salt and vinegar chips, and was planning on finding a very romantic (and public) way to rekindle this happy little inside joke with Karen. He felt alive. This was a fun little world to live in, and after being left for dead less than a year ago, he was now king. King Halpert...

Then everything changed. The door opened. A stranger to all but one of them entered. Ironically the last thing on the strangers mind was regicide.