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.

I.

Jim knew something was wrong on the third ring.

He and Dwight had gone on a sales call across town and needed some information from Michael regarding an expense report from two years prior. Pam always answered the phone by the second ring. If the phone rang three times, she was not picking up-- one more ring and it would go to voicemail. He waited for the automated response to flood his ears.

Nothing.

He redialed. The second call was answered after two rings.

“Dunder Mifflin, this is Meredith,” the unexpected voice of Meredith Palmer filled his ear.

“Oh—Meredith, hey, it’s Jim. Um, is Pam at lunch or something?”

“No, actually, I was just walking by reception and heard the phone ring. I ran behind her desk to pick it up. She’s passed out cold. Too much partying last night, I guess. Best to let her sleep it off.”

Jim raised his eyebrows and put a hand to his forehead. “Well, uh, that’s fine, just put me through to Michael if you don’t mind?”

Meredith pressed some buttons on the phone and hung up the receiver gently. She nudged Pam’s shoulder and watched her head shoot up from the crook of her arm.

“You okay, girl? It looks like you had a rough night. I’ve got some aspirin in my desk if you need it—“she lowered her voice and spoke closely to Pam’s ear. “—also got some tequila, too, hair of the dog, ya know, it might help.”

Pam shook her head forcefully and rubbed her hands over her eyes. “No, no, Meredith, I was just up late last night—couldn’t sleep.”

“Ohhhhh—“ Meredith said, realization dawning instantly. “That Roy, what a little hellcat, right?”

Pam’s eyes grew big and she shook her head again. “No, no, we just—we had a fight and I couldn’t sleep, that’s all.”

Meredith nodded solemnly. “Tequila. It will do you some good. Think about it,” she gestured in the direction of her corner of the office as she rounded the front of Pam’s desk. Pam shook her head, put the phone on automatic voicemail, and dragged herself to the women’s bathroom.

II.

After Michael’s incident with Oscar (the kiss that Pam never wanted to think about again for as long as she lived), Mr. Brown had come back to re-educate the Scranton branch on embracing diversity—again. The group stuffed themselves into the small, uncomfortable chairs in the conference room to go over what the acronym “HERO” meant to them—for a second time.

Pam sat between Phyllis and a fichus tree. The older woman tapped her on the shoulder and whispered conspiratorially. “I heard they had to do this at the Stamford branch last week because of the incident we had here. I think that’s so embarrassing.” Phyllis’ gentle pronunciation of the city in Connecticut made Pam’s stomach drop to her knees. She responded with a curt nod and turned her attention back to the man with the easel at the front of the room.

Pam bit her lip and felt her eyes drift closed as the memory of the other time she heard this exact presentation flooded through her. (The soft cotton of his shirt, his warmth, the slight spicy smell of him wafted through her nostrils as she felt her cheek rest against his shoulder). The next thing she felt was Phyllis’ pointer finger pressing lightly into her shoulder and her soft voice in her ear.

“Pam—Pam, honey, I think you fell asleep,” Pam’s head darted up quickly from Phyllis’ shoulder as she looked around in confusion. “Are you feeling all right?”

Pam nodded and looked around, gathering the things at her feet as she watched her co-workers file out of the room.

“Yeah, yeah—just a little tired,” Pam walked back to reception as Phyllis watched her sadly.

III.

The tree was magnificent. Its plentiful roots started from deep underground, shades of chocolate, mahogany, honey, and amber wove together to create the glorious trunk that extended heavenward into the brightest blue sky she had ever seen. As she raised her head upwards, searching for the ends of the tree’s infinite branches, she was bombarded with countless gemstones of every size, shape and color flooding around her, filling her eyes with every shade of purple, blue, green, red, and gold that she could imagine.

She felt warm fingers close around her as she felt herself spinning around, wet lips touching the skin of her wrist as she—

“Pam.”

Warm lips on her wrist. Soft hair through her fingers.

“Pam. Pam, it isn’t appropriate for you to be sleeping in here. If you’re not feeling well, you could talk to Jim or Michael, I’m sure they would let you take the rest of the afternoon off,” Angela nudged Pam’s shoulder, pulling the Scranton, Pennsylvania knit blanket off her legs.

Pam’s eyes jumped open and she yawned, looking around for a moment before realizing she had fallen asleep on the maroon couch in the women’s bathroom. “What time is it? Gosh, how long have I been asleep?” she sat up and shoved her stocking feet back into her black shoes.

“How am I supposed to know, I’ve been out in the office doing my job,” Angela snapped.

Pam rolled her eyes. “Look, Angela, I’m sorry I dozed off, it’s just—I was up all night finishing my final for my watercolor class, and I had to restart it like five times because I couldn’t get the right shade of mahogany—I’ve only been asleep for like ten minutes.”

Angela nodded. “I am sorry, then, for jumping to conclusions. I do admire you for taking classes while working full time. I also had a full time job when I was in school and I remember how difficult it was at times.”

Pam stretched and stood up from the couch, wiping her hands on the front of her skirt and adjusting her grey cardigan. “Thanks for being understanding, Angela,” she folded the blanket back to its normal size and threw it on the back of the couch. Angela watched her with a slight smile as Pam filed out of the restroom and back towards the office.

IV.

After a needlessly long conference with Ryan and Michael in Michael’s office (in which he once again learned to exercise his seemingly endless patience for their bickering), Jim found his new wife in the break room. Her face was plastered against the pages of an old US Weekly, her left hand clutching a water bottle with a tight fist. He sat down beside her as he brushed his fingertip over her wedding band. He was still in slight disbelief that they were married just three weeks ago. He ran his palm underneath her hair to caress the back of her neck.

“Pam,” he whispered in her ear. She bolted up with a start, nearly knocking him the face with her water bottle. He jumped back and laughed. “Still tired?”

She yawned. “I’ve had at least seven bottles of water today and it’s not making me feel any better—now I have jet lag from hell and I have to pee every five minutes.”

He ran his hand across her back gently. “Maybe you should call it a day. It’s already after four, just take the car and go home—I’ll get a ride from Kev or somebody.”

She ran her hands over her eyes and looked over at him with a sleepy smile. “I am so happy that I’m sleeping with my superior.” She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his earlobe. His jaw dropped open slightly. “Even though I hate you for seemingly having no jet lag-- that is just not human.”

“Hey, twenty-eight hours on a plane, no problem,” Jim grabbed her hand and pulled her up from the table into a hug. “It was worth it though, the extra two days in Melbourne, wasn’t it?” he smiled down at her.

She nodded, her skin warming instantly at the memory. “Well, we didn’t see much of the city, but I’m sure it was lovely.” She looked around quickly and planted a light kiss on his lips. “I don’t know if I can do this every day—“ she sighed.

“What?”

“Being within ten feet of my husband all day long and not being able to kiss him whenever I want.”

“Now you’re just talking crazy, Mrs. Halpert,” he placed his hands on either side of her face and kissed the bridge of her nose. “I’ll see you at home.”

V.

Andy’s idea of a “working lunch” at Benihana’s always ended with rounds of Sake (minus the egg nog—it was springtime) and Dwight creeping out some poor Japanese waitress with tales of Angela’s forty-six hour labor while birthing his son, Dwight Kurt Schrute II (pictures included). Jim managed to avoid both of these things by text messaging with Pam throughout the meal.

Eating lunch in the car, peace & quiet.

Don’t get yogurt on the seat this time ;)

She didn’t reply immediately, so when he strolled back into the office, he expected to see her back at reception. She hadn’t returned there, and after a quick survey of the kitchen, the break room, and the annex, he realized she must still be in the car.

He ran down the stairs two at a time, swinging open the door of the building and crossing the parking lot quickly. His heart slowed when he saw the outline of her auburn curls shining in the sunlight, her lips titled slightly into a crooked smile. She was asleep.

He pulled open the driver’s side door and squatted beside her, his knees brushing against the outside of the car. He carefully put his hand on her wrist. Her head jumped to the side and she put her hand over her chest.

“Jim, you scared the crap out of me!”

He grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry, I was looking for you—just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She rubbed her eyes and pulled him closer to her so that his head was in her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair and sighed. “I was just so tired, I couldn’t keep my head up for another minute. I’ve been so out of it lately.” She yawned.

“Stay here as long as you need. I’ll make up something to tell Michael—“ he lifted his head up to look at her face. “Maybe you should go home if you’re not feeling well,” he put a hand to her forehead. “Do you have a fever? Is your stomach upset?”

She bit her lip as her eyes filled with tears. “Jim, I think we’re going to have a baby.”