Angela watched from her living room window at the scene below. She felt one of her cats brush up against her leg as she sat perched in her rocking chair, but she could not take her eyes off what was happening down in the parking lot.
“Well look who it is!” Roy slurred as he steadied himself against the stair railing. “The lovebirds.”
“Roy…” Pam stood before him confidently, but still had a waver in her voice. “What are you doing?”
He stumbled toward them, and Jim took a protective hold of Pam’s hand. “Oh, you know…” Roy trailed off. “Just… doing a little reading.” He held up his tattered and torn copy of the newspaper containing their now infamous photo. “You were always trying to get me to read the arts section, Pammy. And the one time I do…”
“Roy,” Pam said again, this time with much more assurance. “I know what I did to you was wrong—”
“Wrong?” Roy laughed as he tried to balance himself without use of the railing. “You’ve done plenty wrong sweetheart. But I know who’s responsible for this—” He shook the newspaper in a clenched fist and pointed an unsteady finger at Jim. “You’re the one that did this, Halpert.” He furrowed his brows together in anger, “You’re the one that took her away from me!—”
With that, Roy charged at Jim, slamming him onto the ground and knocking the wind out of him.
Angela watched from her window two floors above as Roy swung punch after punch at wherever he could aim. She watched another second longer to see Pam try to pull Roy off of him; when Roy shoved her away and she was knocked to the ground, Angela knew she had to do something.
Angela couldn’t believe what she had witnessed. When she had met Roy a little over a week ago, he looked sweet and caring, and said he wanted to surprise Pam and spend the day with her. Since he had shown up in the morning and wasn’t already in her bed, Angela had commended him on adhering to propriety and not lustfully sleeping with her while they weren’t married. Now she knew his sins were altogether different.
She quickly made her way down the stairs and pounded on the super’s door in a fury. “D!” she yelled. “D! Come quick!!”
Dwight opened the door urgently, “What is it Monkey?”
“There’s an assailant in the parking lot!”
“What!” he gasped. “Not on my watch!” He hurriedly grabbed a can of pepper spray off his front table and ran outside, Angela at his heels. “Hey!” he shouted to the figures on the ground as he aimed his pepper spray.
“Huh?” Roy turned his head and was immediately covered in the stinging foam, leaving him defenseless. He covered his eyes and fell to Jim’s side, writhing in pain as everyone else made their own sputtering coughs from breathing in the chemicals.
Dwight, only flinching from the pain, removed his cell phone from its holster and dialed 911. “Yes, hello, this is Dwight K. Schrute—No, don’t hang up! I swear, this is a real emergency!”
Angela looked on from the doorway as Dwight cornered Roy against the wall of the building and tended to Jim and Pam’s safety. She toyed at the pendant of her necklace, and could not help but feel slightly hot and bothered from his heroic behavior.
… … …
Jim could barely open his right eye when he finally awoke, but he saw out of his left eye that Pam was sitting beside him. She gently held his hand and smiled meekly at him, but when he tried to smile back, he found it hurt too much.
“Careful,” she whispered. “You’re pretty swollen.”
He tried shifting in his seat, but felt sore all over. He groaned, “What happened?”
“I… almost got you killed?” she tried to laugh, but he could see through his good eye that she was noticeably uncomfortable.
He gripped her hand a little tighter in reassurance, “Don’t worry. Please. I’ll be fine… won’t I?”
“Yeah,” she smiled warmly at him as he looked at his surroundings. He could tell he was definitely in a hospital, hooked up to all kinds of machines, which made him wonder how serious his injuries were. He saw vases of flowers, gift baskets and balloons filling his room, which made him half-smile. Then something caught his eye.
“Why is Dwight on the TV?” he asked inquisitively, and saw Pam look toward the television mounted on the wall.
“Oh!” she exclaimed and reached for the remote, turning the volume up.
“—discharged it at a distance of a little over a meter into the perpetrator's eyes, nose, and face area…” Dwight told a reporter.
Pam watched as Jim’s tattered face made an expression of realization. “Did Dwight…?”
“Oh yes he did,” Pam smirked, as they watched the broadcast.
Dwight continued, “…rendering him utterly and completely disabled. Then I contacted the authorities. The end.”
They then saw the local sports anchor, Vai Sikahema, come onto the screen: “Well there you have it, Philly fans, from the man who saved our good luck charm himself. It’s a shame our Jim wasn’t lucky enough to escape such a vicious beating, and from what his doctors say it doesn’t seem like he’ll be able to make it to game number two of the NBA finals. But we wish him all the best for a speedy recov—”
The anchor was cut off abruptly by Pam, hitting the power button and shutting the television off. She let out a deep sigh and bit her lip, and told Jim, “Sorry you had to find out like that…”
“It’s the price I pay…” he replied, looking solemn. “It’s really that bad?”
She nodded slowly, “The worst of it is a bruised rib on your left side, from when he fell on you. The doctors say it’ll probably hurt to even breathe for a while…”
Until just then, Jim hadn’t noticed how shallow his breaths had been coming, and felt a sharp pain in his side as soon as he tried to breathe deeper. He shut his eyes in pain as he felt Pam’s grasp on him tighten in fear.
“Are you okay?” she asked, concern plaguing her voice.
He took a shallow breath and felt the pain subside, “Yeah, just… testing the waters.”
She gave a small laugh, and Jim was amazed at how the softest of chuckles could brighten his spirits. “Well,” she sighed. “They say that sometimes the pain lasts for months. But as long as you rest and don’t strain yourself too much, you can start to feel better within a week or so.”
“That’s good to hear,” he said, slowly readjusting himself on the bed.
Just then, a nurse cheerfully knocked on the door and showed herself in. She and Pam exchanged a smile, and then she addressed her patient, “Well, look who’s awake! I didn’t think you’d wake up before my shift ended.” She began to check his vitals and bandages, and then told him, “Your parents have been waiting in the hospital cafeteria. Should I go get them for you?”
“Oh, yes. Thank you…”
“Jessica,” the nurse told him with a smile.
“Thanks Jessica,” he said, and she gave a curt nod and quickly exited the room. His mind was now racing with activity. His parents were here? Had they already met Pam? This was certainly not the circumstance under which he wanted them to meet for the first time, and he suddenly felt nervous about what they could’ve said to her.
He looked over to his girlfriend, who was still holding his hand firmly and looking down at their entwined fingers. “Your mom… didn’t like seeing you unconscious,” she softly explained. “I told them I could wait here with you while they went to get dinner.”
“Mom’s always been squeamish,” he replied. “What did they say to you?”
She put on a fake smile, “Oh… They were really nice, considering...”
“Considering you got me beat up and knocked out?”
“Don’t you pin this one on me,” she told him with mock-seriousness. “You dared me to send that photo to Carol.”
“I know,” he said, running his thumb over her knuckles. “I guess you’re worth it.”
They exchanged a smile and small laugh, and then Jim’s parents filed into the room. Jim was relieved to see his parents acting considerately towards Pam, especially since they could’ve easily blamed his injuries on her. Instead, they were all laughing and joking around in no time, which was a sure sign that they had accepted her as an important part of his life.
His parents came and left, as well as other various guests, and Pam had stayed through it all. She had endured the mocking remarks and the awkward sympathy Jim’s visitors gave to her, and to him, it proved even more how special she was. She had even put up with Michael when he stopped by:
“Ugh, Jimbo, you look awful!” he said, making a beeline to Jim’s side.
“Thanks Michael,” Jim replied, the not as swollen side of his face forming a grin.
“Just, black and blue, and pus leaking from that gash on your cheek…” he leaned in to inspect Jim closer, which made Jim wince. “Ugh. I hate hospitals you know. In my mind, they are associated with sickness.”
“Can’t imagine why you would think that,” he managed to say with a straight face. “Oh, Michael, this is Pam, the one—”
“From the photo!” Michael exclaimed, walking around to the other side of the bed where Pam had been sitting. She stood up to shake his hand, but instead received a reprimand, “Now listen, missy. Jim is my best friend in the whole wide world—”
“No, I’m not,” Jim corrected him.
“Just, shut it,” Michael hissed, and then turned back to Pam. “And, if you are going to get him beat up all the time, then I think I am just going to forbid him to see you… even if you are the hottest piece of tail he’s gotten in a while.”
“Wow,” she said, taking a step back from his uncomfortably close proximity. “I… I’m sorry?”
“Sorry is not going to cut it, Spamster—”
“Spamster?” Pam questioned. “Like, Pam, plus spam, plus…”
“Hamster,” Michael replied, to which Pam could only nod in response. He continued, “You realize he’s missing one of the finals games, right? Well, considering that the Sixers suck when the big dog is not around, they are going to lose, and they are going to lose big time. And it will be all your fault—”
“Actually,” Jim interrupted, “Wouldn’t it be all Roy’s fault?”
“Yes! Jim’s attacker. It would be his fault… for attacking him,” Pam agreed, nodding her head convincingly.
Michael pondered this for a few moments, and finally conceded, “Yes! Yes it would be… That is brilliant. I am going to tell the people that the head they want is not yours, it’s this Roy character’s—”
“Michael—”
“I’ll say to them, ‘No need for consternation! If you want someone to blame, blame the man who can’t keep his passion under control… or his drinking, apparently—’”
“Michael,” Jim said again, this time with clear aggravation in his voice.
“And then I will lead the way to run that em-effer outta town! Just like in Beauty and the Beast!”
Jim’s anger quickly subsided as he realized Michael was making a poor comparison to a Disney cartoon, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. He then shot a glance over at Pam, who looked like she was doing the same thing.
“Michael,” he said for a third time, much more composed. “My parents have already contacted my lawyer about a restraining order. You don’t need to go hunt down Roy.”
“But… you don’t want to see your attacker brought to justice?” Michael inquired, a note of disappointment in his tone. Jim shook his head as much as his mobility let him, and Michael let out a heavy sigh, “Fine. Have it your way Jim-bag.”
“They doctors did say that he’ll probably be out in time to go to games three and four in L.A.,” Pam spoke up, trying to get Michael to see things optimistically.
Michael scoffed, “Yeah, like his luck will be able to stand up against all the celebrities that go to those L.A. games. I mean, Jack Nicholson will be there! Jack Nicholson, Pam! Really.” The room settled into an awkward silence, the couple exchanging an uneasy glance while Michael processed the predicament he assumed they were in. Then, as if a light switch was turned on inside his brain, Michael snapped his fingers and told them, “I have an idea.”
“Oh really?” Jim smirked, knowing whatever he had come up with would be good.
“I know Willie Green said something about miss Pama-lama-ding-dong over here being good luck as well,” he explained. “So, if we want to double our luck, we can dress little Pammy here up as a hot nurse—”
“No,” they both vetoed his scheme in unison, not needing to hear any more.
Michael threw his hands up in the air and sighed, “Fine. I was trying to be helpful and help you smuggle your little girlfriend along for the trip, but if you don’t want my help then I will just go where my services are needed… probably to elevate Jan’s swollen cankles.” He left the room in a flourish, and then reappeared in the doorway, “Seriously though, last chance. My plan is foolproof.”
“Not interested,” Jim shook his head.
“Fine. Feel better man,” Michael gave a small wave and disappeared down the hallway. Once he was completely out of sight, Pam flopped down in the chair she had been sitting in before Michael had arrived.
“Wow,” she sighed as she rubbed her forehead. “And I thought Ryan was bad…”
“Yeah…” Jim almost laughed at the thought of all Michael’s antics. “My boss is a whole different kind of inappropriate.” They exchanged a smile and entwined their fingers in each other, and finally Jim said softly, “Thanks.”
“Welcome,” she responded, knowing nothing more needed to be said between them. Whatever hand she had played in his injury, she knew she had made it up to him by sticking by his side.
… … …
“Are you really going to watch the game?” Jim asked as they walked out the back door of the rowhouse, his bags packed for L.A. in hand.
“Of course! I mean, I might have it on in the background or something, but I’ll definitely be watching for you,” Pam replied, smiling at him as she helped him put the bags in his car.
“That’s all I ask.”
“Do you have your plane tickets?”
“Yep.”
“Meds and extra bandages?”
“Uh huh.”
“Cell phone charger?”
“Yes mom,” Jim said with a grin, to which he got a playful smack on the arm. “Oh, so violent, Beesly!” he teased.
“I hate you,” she said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. She began to pull away when his hands caught her cheeks and pulled her in for a real kiss, which melted her into him. She let out a wistful sigh as they parted, and then asked longingly, “Call me when you get there?”
“Of course.” He got into his car, careful to mind his still bruised rib, and waved as he pulled out of the parking lot. Pam watched until his car was out of sight, and then wandered back inside the building, noticing how quiet the third floor was without him there.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Hey guys! Sorry for the long waits between updates; school just started again and, well, you know how hectic getting into the swing of things can be. This chapter was definitely a challenge—way more angsty than I usually care to go—but I'm happy with the result, and I hope you are as well.
A million thanks to EmilyHalpert, who is still beta'ing without the use of her own computer. That is dedication, my friends, and loads of credit goes to her. Enjoy!
A million thanks to EmilyHalpert, who is still beta'ing without the use of her own computer. That is dedication, my friends, and loads of credit goes to her. Enjoy!
