Pam took a deep breath, her stomach in knots. She dreaded going back into the living room to face Jim. What was she going to say? How could she possibly explain any of this, when she herself still didn't quite believe it.

It took a moment or two, but Pam finally willed herself back to where Jim was. As she stood in the archway to the living room, she saw that he wasn't at the window any longer, but instead stood at her bookcase, his back toward her.

She cleared her throat to get his attention, but he didn't move.

“I'm really so sorry about this morning,” she began.

Jim turned around, a blue box in his hands. “It has been driving me crazy trying to figure out who that guy was. I thought I knew him but I couldn't remember why or how.” He lifted up the box to more clearly show Pam. “But this can't possibly be right.”

Jim was holding the season one boxed set for House, MD. The look on his face made it clear he was looking for some answer from Pam, but she didn't even know where to begin.

“So you know the guy who stars in this show, huh?” Jim finally said, putting the dvd set back on the shelf. Pam thought he sounded strangely distant.

“No,” she said, moving more into the room. “I don't know any of the actors from that show.”

“So the guy standing in your kitchen isn't the guy who plays House?” Jim put his hands into his pockets. “You were calling him House, or didn't I hear you right?”

Pam crossed her arms defensively. This was going to be so impossible. “He's not the actor,” she said quietly.

“I'm sorry?” Jim took one step closer to her. “I couldn't hear what you said.”

“I said he's not the actor who plays House,” she repeated, this time clearly and impressively without wavering. “He is House.”

Jim's eyebrows drew together. “What?”

“He is the actual House,” she said again. “And he's not in the kitchen.”

“Where did he go?”

“He left. I asked him to leave.”

“When?”

“Like five minutes ago.”

“How? Do you have a back door?”

“No, he just....” Pam paused. “Why does it even matter where he is?”

“I just want to know what else he's going to pull next,” Jim said, the irritation he felt earlier returning. “I mean, he's your friend and you saw fit to confide in him about everything.”

“It's not like that,” Pam protested.

“Then tell me, Pam,” Jim snapped back. “What is it like? What's going on with you and him and why are you dragging me into it?”

Pam was getting a headache. She sat down in the chair House had been in and rubbed her hands over her face. “You won't believe me even if do tell you.”

It was not quite the reaction Jim was expecting, and peered at her closely. She looked exhausted, and for a moment he was willing to give her a chance to explain all of this. He certainly wanted her to be able to. He sat down on the edge of the couch. “Try me,” he said quietly.

Pam didn't respond initially. She was too wound up with how she could possibly explain it all without bringing it all back to the fact that she was in love with him. After telling him that on Thursday, she had no illusions that telling him again was going to change anything. But the real story was so fantastic, so surreal, that she couldn't make up a story that he would buy. There was no other way – she was going to have to tell him the truth, and all of it.

“You know about fairy godmothers, right?” She said at last. She almost laughed at the look he gave her, knowing this was the sane part of the conversation.

“Like in Cinderella? Yeah,” he said, clearly not sure where she was going with it.

“Do you think it's possible for things to happen that you simply can't rationally explain? Like paranormal stuff?”

Jim shrugged. “I guess. I don't really think too much about that sort of stuff. Anything's possible, I suppose.” He watched Pam as she continued to fidget nervously in her chair. “What is this all about, Pam?”

“Dr. House is my fairy godmother,” Pam spit out quickly. “Well, godfather I suppose.”

Jim did not know how to respond to her statement, so he kept quiet, hoping she'd start talking sense soon.

“I came home from work on Thursday and was feeling sorry for myself and fell asleep watching House on my vcr and when I woke up he – Dr. House – was standing in my living room.” She didn't look up at Jim, her face already flushing with anxiety.

“O-kay,” Jim said under his breath.

She looked up at him. “I know it sounds unbelievable, but I swear it really happened.”

Were it anyone else on the planet, Jim would be convinced he was being lied to. But there was something in her expression, something about the fact that this was Pam telling him this, that made him want to believe her.

“Okay,” he nodded. “Let's assume what you're saying is the truth. Why did he show up?”

Pam bit her lip. This was the part she dreaded more than admitting television show characters were appearing to her as visions. “He said he was tired of watching me make a mess of my life and wanted me to change.”

“Change how?”

“To stop hiding.”

“Hiding from what?”

She was stalling and she knew it. “Hiding from you.” She couldn't help but glance at him when she said it, and saw the surprise on his face. “He said I needed to tell you how I felt.”

“Ah,” was all Jim replied.

“Yeah, and we both know how that turned out. I think he was convinced he knew how you felt and that's why he tricked you into coming over here. I'm really sorry he dragged you into all of this. I should have known better.”

“So a television doctor – and imaginary character - told you that if you told me how you really felt,” Jim said, trying to understand what she was saying, “Your life would get better.”

“And yours too,” she added, painfully aware of how incredible it sounded even to her own ears.

Jim picked at an imaginary piece of lint on his jeans, his hands rubbing against his thighs. “Well, I'm not sure I know what to say about all of this, if in fact you are telling me the truth – or what you believe is your version of the truth.”

Pam was piqued by his comment. She knew it was an unbelievable story, but deep down she thought he'd believe her. “Why would I make all of this up? I mean – Jim, you saw him too!”

“I saw a guy, yes, who you now say is gone,” Jim admitted. He felt slightly guilty as the images of House in his dreams and the encounters he'd had the day before went unconfessed. “But he looked real to me.”

“Well he was real,” Pam insisted. “I-I can't explain it, but it's the truth.”

“Okay, well, I don't know what to believe, but I'm not sure it even matters what I believe,” Jim said, standing up. “I really think I need to get going.”

Pam was crushed. Even if he didn't believe her story, she couldn't believe how he'd glossed over her feelings again. He'd at least always been her friend before – before everything. She'd wanted to believe that House was right, that she still had a chance with Jim, but maybe things really couldn't be fixed between them.

She stood up, determined not to let him know how much he was hurting her.

“Well, that's fine,” she said. “I think I need to go get some more sleep.” She stood up. “You don't need me to escort you out, right?”

Jim tilted his head. “Um, the door's right there, so nope.” He tried to make it sound jovial, but it came out brusque instead.

“Okay,” she said, unable to stop herself from wringing her hands. She turned and walked out before he had to chance to walk out on her.

As soon as Pam closed her bedroom door, all she wanted to do was fling herself on her bed and have a full blown temper tantrum. She couldn't believe how it was even possible to make the situation between herself and Jim any worse than it was, but once again she was wrong. Why did she always have to be wrong about everything??

As much as she wanted to, she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. Still, she laid down on her back on her bed, wondering what in the world she was going to do now. She didn't see how working at Dunder Mifflin was going to be tenable any longer, not after this. She thought she might just have to make a complete break from everything.

Her musings didn't continue for much more than ten minutes when she realized she was seriously hungry. She left her bed, threw on some sweat pants and went to the kitchen, but she was so behind in grocery shopping that there was nothing there that even appealed to her. She brewed another mug of tea and buttered a piece of plain bread, folding it in half. She wandered with it into the living room, but memories of this morning were too painful to stay there. She was going to head back to her bedroom when she decided instead to go onto the porch. Even though it was a cold day, she thought the change could only do her good.

She nearly dropped her mug when she opened her door to find Jim sitting on her porch steps. Her audible gasp made him turn around.

“Oh, hey,” he said bemusedly. He pointed toward the parking lot, where a silver Saab was still not parked. “I thought about reporting it as stolen, but then I realized I'd have to describe the guy who took it.”

Pam couldn't help but smile. She closed the door behind her and tentatively sat down on the step next to him. “Yeah, sorry about that,” she said “He said it would be back. Apparently he sent it to be detailed.”

“Right.”

Pam cautiously glanced over at him, and saw his cheeks and nose were red from sitting out in the cold. “Do you want to go back inside? You look like you're freezing.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No, I'm fine.”

“Oh.” Pam's brief hope that maybe they could finally talk disappeared again. She sat staring into her steaming tea.

They sat quietly on the steps, together yet apart. Neighbors walked by, cars drove past, but neither of them seemed to want to break the silence. Or maybe they didn't know how to. Sitting so close to him made Pam aware all over again of just how much she missed him.

“I'm sorry I sprung all of that on you Thursday,” she heard herself say.

Jim didn't move, didn't look at her. It was like he hadn't heard her at all.

“I mean, I meant it. All of it. But I shouldn't have done it like that.”

Again Jim's only answer was no answer at all. Pam couldn't believe he was just ignoring her words.

“Don't you have anything to say?” She pushed.

Jim looked down at his hands, clasped together between his knees. Then he looked up again to the horizon. “I broke up with Karen last night.”

“Oh.” She wondered if she had the ability to respond to anything with something other than monosyllabic sounds.

Jim nodded, a soft chuckle escaping. “Yeah. Oh.”

“I'm --” Pam paused. Was what? Sorry? Even she didn't buy that. “Are you okay?”

Jim shrugged. “I don't know what I am anymore,” he said. “But I know she deserved better than me.”

“That's not true.”

“No, it is.” Jim sighed. “You have no idea.”

“No, I probably don't. But I know you. She might deserve different, but she's going to be hard pressed to find someone better.”

She saw Jim smirk slightly, as he dipped his head down to rest on his hands. “If you say so,” he mumbled.

“I do say so.”

They returned to their previous silence, but somehow it felt different, less awkward. She didn't want to pry, but she couldn't help but wonder what had happened with Karen. Was her confession responsible for any of it? He didn't seem to act like it, but the timing was entirely too coincidental. She thought about how sad she was when she saw his car at Karen's Friday night. Little did she know then why he was really there.

She was so lost in her thoughts she didn't realize Jim was speaking. “I'm sorry what?”

“I asked if you have any other experience with the weird and unnatural that you'd like to confess to me.”

She saw he was teasing her and for a brief moment they smiled at each other before each shyly looked away. “No,” she laughed. “I swear this is the first time.”

“Right,” he said, his tone implying he didn't believe her in the slightest.

“It is, I swear!”

Another pause of silence, then Jim spoke again. “I saw him yesterday.”

She knew who he meant. “Where?”

“Everywhere. At the gas station, at work. Even in my dreams.”

“I'm sorry. I should have known he'd harass you.”

“Doesn't matter,” he shrugged. “But I guess it does almost make me believe your story.”

“Well that's better than nothing, I guess.”

“But here's the thing, Beesly --”

Beesly. He hadn't called her that in what seemed like ages. “What?”

“Nobody would ever believe any of this.”

“I know.”

“So I think it's in our best interests to keep all of this as our little secret.”

“I totally agree.”

“Except maybe Creed,” Jim mused. “Creed would believe it.”

“I think House would have a hard time believing in the existence of Creed,” Pam joked.

At that moment Pam noted with a twinge of disappoint that Jim's car was being driven into the parking lot. A guy in a white t-shirt and jeans got out of Jim's car, gave the duo a hardy wave, then climbed into the passenger's seat of the pickup that had followed him in.

Jim pulled his car keys out of his coat pocket. “Do I really want to know how he managed to drive it without the keys?”

Pam shook her head. “No, it's better if you don't think too hard about any of this.”

He smirked again. “True.”

Jim leg bounced nervously and Pam knew he was going to be leaving. She wished she had some reason to ask him to stay. She felt like things had thawed between them a bit in the last half hour, and she hated to see it end. But she didn't feel like she had the right to push him. Not after everything.

Jim stood up, so Pam did as well.

“I guess I better get going now,” he said, staring down at the keys in his hand.

“Yeah, okay.”

Jim walked down the two steps to the concrete, and took little more than a step or two before turning back around. “Did, um.....do you want to go get some breakfast?”

Pam couldn't have hid her smile if she'd had to. “That sounds really, really great,” she said. “Can I go in and change first?”

“Sure,” he nodded. “But no fair showering since I didn't have that luxury this morning.”

“Fair enough,” she laughed, walking up a step and toward the door. “Do you want to wait inside?”

“No, I'm good.”

“You've got to be freezing.”

Jim shrugged. “You aren't going to be that long, are you?”

“No, but there's no need for you --”

“I'm really fine out here,” he interrupted.

Pam had a thought. “He's really not in the house anymore, you know.”

Jim rested his foot on the first step. “You mean House is not in the house?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yikes. You're definitely waiting out here for that one.”

Pam practically bounded to her bedroom. She kept reminding herself that she was in no position to assume anything from an invitation to breakfast, but she could not deny the bubble of hope and happiness that filled her. She was so intent on finding something nice to quickly change into that she didn't see the note on her mirror at first. She didn't see it until she was already changed, actually, and was about to brush her hair.

See? I told you I would fix it. I'm just that good.

She laughed out loud and ran her fingers over the yellow sticky note. She had no intention of ever taking that message off her mirror.

She grabbed her jacket and stepped out onto the porch, where Jim was leaning against the banister. She locked the door and turned toward him.

He smiled at her and held out his hand. “Ready?”

Pam slipped her hand easily into his and smiled back. “Ready.”