The water lapping at his ankles did little to conceal the pull in his chest as he stared out over the lake, his eyes absently following his brother’s jetski, but his mind somewhere back in Scranton. It killed him to see that look in her eyes, the one she’d had so many times before that he had ignored, or worse, just hadn’t seen. Not until she’d called it quits. Not until that day she had taken the ring off her finger and set it down on the kitchen table. It had taken him so long to see what was right in front of him. But by the time he had, it was too late.

Kenny had been his saving grace this weekend, pulling him by the bootstraps to head to the lake instead of mope at her bedside. But Roy had all but stomped his feet in the driveway, demanding that Kenny at least let him say goodbye to her before they took off.

It had also been Kenny’s idea to create some distance, despite what the doctors, and Pam’s family, and Pam herself, had been saying.

“It’s just Pammy, Roy. She’s fine now. She don’t need you hanging around the hospital. You’ve got better things to do. Now let’s go.”

So he distanced himself, figuring it was for the best. She was with Halpert now. She’d remember him soon enough, and they’d go back to their happy little lives that didn’t involve him.

Even if she was asking for him.

Even though he was still mulling over his fuck up and wondering if this was his second chance or something.

So he had fully intended on entering that hospital room with words of encouragement, ones that said Your mom really misses you and You’ll have time to catch up with your sister and I’ll come see you first think Sunday night when I get back. How about I order us a pizza and we can watch a movie or something? Instead, upon seeing those eyes, so filled with hope and wonder and awe of his presence, he was blasted back to the past, to having her in his arms and having his ring on her finger and the rest of the future awaiting them.

The reminder that, he had all that. Had mocking him from its past tense. That he had wrecked it. Pulled the carpet out from underneath them, or whatever. This had been his doing. So, just like the old Roy, he checked in and checked out, facing the wrath of Kenny the entire two-hour trip to the lake while he pouted and refused to say all but two words: Just drive, while the past played itself over in his head.

Meeting her in high school.

Their first date.

Their first real date, after that goddamned hockey incident.

Proposing.

Moving in together.

Planning a wedding together.

Starting a new job.

Too many nights spent at the warehouse.

Out with the guys.

At the bar while she cried herself to sleep.

Growing apart.

Fighting. A lot.

Beers and wings and nights spent half in the bag.

Weeks spent flirting with that bartender who had too jet black hair and too many tattoos and breasts that spilled over the top of her too-tight shirts.

Pressing his lips against every one of those tattoos, while that jet black hair spilled across the pillow his fiance used at night.

Everything crumbling into unrecognizable shambles.

That, no matter how hard they tried, would never resemble the puzzle they once had formed.

And she was none to blame.

This was all on him, and he knew it.

He was no better while they spent the day at the lake, Kenny and his cousins cruising by on their speeders while his waded in shallow water, bumping backwards to gently dip into the sandbar on more than one occasion. Watching from his perch on a log around the campfire, while the three boisterous and brawny Anderson’s chugged beers and tossed things into the fire for fun, while he fiddled with the label on his own barely touched bottle, kicking rocks across the dusk covered ground.

Tossing and turning while snores gurgled in throats, ringing off the shallow ceilings of their cabin.

When dusk and dawn met for an early morning rendezvous, purple haze tickling an orange glow over the fog swept beach, he remembered the smile she wore as he twirled her around the dance floor, her purple prom dress glowing under cheap gymnasium lighting. His smile at the memory was somber, sad, but glad that he had it. Although it was only five in the morning, he was suddenly anxious to get back to Scranton, to make good on the promises he’d made to her in his head. He’d get her that pizza, flip through wedding magazines with her, even if, in the back of his mind, he knew she’d probably be picking things out for a wedding with Halpert one day. He could pretend, though. He owed her that much. He could play in the past, if it meant one more day in a life that he could’ve had, if it weren’t for his own transgressions.

--

Pam awoke with her head heavy and drunk with sleep and narcotics. She wasn’t allowed to sleep late, because there was always a constant hum of doctors and nurses and orderlies and Sit up, sweetie, you need to take this. But she must have slept through it all last night, must have been fed breakfast in her sleep and allowed to continue dozing, because the sun that streamed through from the hallway was even blinding. When she picked her head from the pillow, she felt the stiff, shiny plastic, and peeled it from her cheek.

It was the Jim card.

She must have fallen asleep next to it, or on it, or something.

Somewhere inside, she wondered if that was the reason she’d gotten such a good night’s sleep.

The clock poised above her door ticked from 10:07 to 10:08, and she sighed contentedly, closing her eyes as a comforted grin tickled her from the inside. For a moment, she thought she might just fall back asleep. Penny knocking on the door wasn’t the worst disturbance to those plans; she’d definitely had more than her fill of rest.

“Well, good morning, sleeping beauty. I was worried I was going to have to grab a prince to come wake you up, but I see you’ve already found one.”

She pointed to the card that Pam still cradled, almost protectively, Penny could argue. Pam’s cheeks, so light and pale from being horizontal for over twelve hours, now flushed, all of the blood in her body collectively filling her cheeks to the point of a dull ache.

She brushed her sister off, thought secretly hoping that she’d bring Jim back up again as she said changed the subject.

“Spending your Saturday at the hospital, sis? That doesn’t seem quite as glamorous as New York City nightlife.”

Penny quickly shut down the creeping blush, the embarrassment that hit her head on that she hadn’t actually lived in New York for the past year and a half. But this Pam didn’t remember that. This Pam didn’t know that she’d graduated college and moved back into town. Years in the drama club had Penny well versed in convincing lies, though. Her parents had plenty of experience, once actually believing that she had spent a Saturday night of St. Patrick’s Day weekend “studying for a chemistry test.” It was almost too easy.

“And miss the cutie that comes to change your bandages at four o’clock? Absolutely not. I plan on sticking around until I get that number, so don’t heal too quickly, you hear?”

Pam giggled, reveling one of the only positive outcomes of this whole mess: spending quality time, albeit forced, with her little sister.

“I’ll do my best; thanks for your concern.”

It didn’t take her long at all to bring up Jim. As Penny spoke, rehashing the night she’d spent at mom and dad’s, and I remembered why I never wanted to have a dog when Mollie woke me up at 4 o’clock this morning to pee, Pam’s eyes clicked back and forth between her sister, who wasn’t paying any mind, and the clock. When five minutes ticked by, five exactly and not a minute more, the words were tumbling out of her almost against her will.

“So has, uh...did anyone else stop by while I was asleep?”

“Oh, you mean like Jim?”

Her eyes, shining with hope, suddenly washed with embarrassment as they found her lap, clicking back towards her sister’s blue gaze as quickly as her eyes had dropped.

“Yeah, I mean...no...sure. Has Jim been...by today...at all?”

Her eyes fell again, this time to avoid the telltale signs that Penny’s face would give away her answer before her words did; the ache in her chest that didn’t want to show disappointment in her eyes if Penny said no.

“He was here about a half hour ago, but his sister said something about food, so I think they’re making a brunch run for all of us. They should be back with a boatload of Denny’s soon.”

“Oh man, Denny’s? God, I could really go for a--”

“He already had your chocolate chip pancake order at the top of this list, Pammy. I’m pretty sure this guy knows you better than you know you.”

For the third time in the better part of five minutes, Pam’s eyes met the soft cotton of the blanket in her lap.

This time, it was to hide her grin.

When Jim and Larisa returned with bags of styrofoam containers, they bribed some orderlies into letting Pam eat lunch in the waiting lounge area, Penny and Larisa pushing tables together while Will and Helene situated enough chairs to accommodate the growing brood. Jim took the liberty of helping Pam get into her slippers and maneuver with her IV pole to join her support crew. A familiar warmth spread when his fingers gently held her wrist, covered her lower back gently to guide her. The dizziness was probably from not standing for awhile, she tried to convince herself. The brain injury. Definitely not from the way Jim was holding her upright as she walked twenty feet across the room.

She watched in awe as Jim cut up her pancakes, not bothering to miss a beat in the conversation that he was having with her father about the Eagle’s preseason outlook. Her mom was talking with Larisa about her college aspirations (she was in school for something to do with writing, Pam gathered), and Penny interjected wherever she saw fit, which was the only typical thing about this whole situation.

As the scene unfolded, Pam watched astounded, wondering if this was just another strange drug-induced dream she was having, one in which one of her supposed coworkers and his sister got along better, more easily with her family in these past twenty four hours, than Roy and his family had in the past seven years.

Penny had made her feelings about Roy clear from the very beginning. She was a first impressions kind of girl, and it took a lot to make her budge. Her parents tolerated Roy at best, understanding and respecting the love that she as their daughter held for him, but were cautious all the same.

Yet here they sat, crowded around three small tables, the remains of breakfast--that he had picked up, and no doubt paid for--scattered around, sharing laughter and easy banter as if they’d been friends for years. The way his mother’s hand so easily found Jim’s knee in a reassuring gesture when dad had said something to tease him--the fact that dad was teasing him--had questions piling in her already clouded head.

When she began to feel tired and weak, he waved off mom and dad and Penny, insisting that they accompany Pam back to her room while he and Larisa resituated the waiting room to its proper state. While it was nice to have Sunday morning spent with her family, she felt her gaze being pulled so often to the doorway that she wondered if her family noticed her mental absence.

Mom was pulling a stack of Get Well Soon cards from her purse, but she was too busy noticing the way that Jim’s shoulders pulled at the Foo Fighters t-shirt he was wearing while he used an antiseptic wipe to void the table tops of any syrupy evidence to truly care what Aunt Pat had written.

Dad told stories of his crazy week at work, but her eyes were drawn to the warmth in Jim's smile as he brought the packaged leftovers to the nurse’s station, the words she couldn’t hear on his moving lips no doubt something along the lines of I can stop by the cafeteria if you’d like something else.

Dr. Livingston gave updates, most positive, she assumed by the smiles and contented noises bubbling from her family. None of it registered, though, as she watched Jim sit beside his sister, passing her an earbud that wound its way to the iPod that seemed comically small in his large hands. Her medical news paled so far in comparison to the sudden inherent need she had to find out what was playing through those speakers.

There was mention of continuing and upping her physical therapy regimen to prevent atrophy in her muscles, as she was resting so much. She hadn’t been participating in anything too taxing yet, simple motor functions and memory games that made her feel like a preschooler. But she was doing better, able to use the bathroom on her own and maneuver in and out of a wheelchair with minimal assistance. She’d begin today with assisted walks, whether with a PT or family member, so long as she immediately vocalized any signs of fatigue or struggle, followed by a schedule of treadmill walks and more focused muscle strengthening. If all was well by Friday, she would get to go home.

It was that word home that hung heavy on her heart as her family lounged around her room, smiling and chatting like it was any normal Sunday that they were spending together. Baseball droned on in the background, Penny rolled her eyes at something her parents were saying, and dad even broke his typical no PDA rule and gave mom a kiss on the temple. Yet among so much love, a pit still formed in her stomach.

In five days, she could be going home.

But what did home even entail?

She lived with Roy, of course. Roy, who hadn’t spent more than a day with her collectively since she’d been sidelined in the hospital. Roy, who was at the lake with his buddies instead of bringing her chocolate chip pancakes and joking around with her father about if the Phillies were ultimately better than the Pirates. Roy, the man she was marrying.

Marrying.

She’d awoken from surgery, from being physically cut open, to hope in her soul and an overwhelming love in her heart that she would be marrying this man with whom she’d spent her childhood growing with, understanding what it meant to have a relationship, to love and lose and fight and make up and grow with someone. But there was that itch, the reminder nagging behind her stitches that maybe, just maybe, the growing they’d been doing hadn’t so much been together, but more apart.

And that terrified her.

Especially when the conversation in the room diverted to something she actually felt like replying to.

“Pam, sweetheart, what’s this? When did you put this together?”

Mom had found the poster that she and Jim had worked so diligently on yesterday, her Saturday spent planning a wedding that she wasn’t even sure had a set date yet.

“Oh. Um. Yeah, Jim and I...Jim helped me put that together yesterday. Um...Roy and I were supposed to look over things but he uhm...he’s at the lake, so…”

It was a struggle to find words for so many reasons. Roy, her fiance, was at the lake, for one. Roy, who had been so tentative and hesitant and overwhelmingly distant by her bedside since the moment she’d awoken.

Second, as she ticked them off, was the constant of this Jim, the man who had so oddly been here, conversely waiting at her bedside when she’d startled into consciousness. And he was always here, hair mussed and eyes tired and shoes mismatched, but always smiling, and though timid, always wanting to just be with her.

Lastly, her eyes wavered across the images that they’d taped to the posterboard--that Jim had somehow magically produced, she added to the column--images that were vacant of harsh gold and royal blue and footballs as centerpieces, but so strikingly filled with everything she’d ever wanted. Quietly beautiful pastels, flowers that gave a subtle pop, little splashes of sparkle and charm. A church, with vaulted ceilings and stained glass, without a hint of that musty smell. A quaint celebration with enough room to dance; twinkle lights just in case the stars didn’t shine brightly enough.

Not officiated by his wide receiver from high school, out in the middle of the woods. The same burly droll who had made a drunken speech at their engagement party that poked fun at how long it had taken prissy Pam to give it up and given her a scanty apron that said Sunday Funday across the cartoon chest.

Not at the VA Hall, because his buddy had a connection.

Not catered by Hooters with a midnight snack of nacho bar.

While her mind played over the nimble fingers that had cut carefully, double checking that she wanted the lavender or the peach? before extracting the photo carefully from the magazine, realizing that This wasn’t even his wedding, mom’s sugary words pulled her back to reality.

“It’s really beautiful, honey. Maybe someday.”

“Yeah, maybe if Roy ever stops dragging his feet.”

Her words were edged with laughter, fraught with irony.

Mom reached over, clasping both hands over Pam’s casted arm, her smile speaking words of sad reassurance.

In the late afternoon light, mom had to cook dinner and dad was getting tired. Penny had to work in the morning. It was better that way, the PT mentioned. Less distractions for her “workout.” But as she said her goodbyes and was helped into the hallway for her walk, the words came without pretense.

“Actually, could Jim come with me?”

The orderly, a man who couldn’t possibly be much older than she was, gave her a knowing glance.

“Fine, I see how it is, Ms. Beesly. Pass up quality time with me for the big guy. I get it.”

He feigned offense, clasping a hand over his heart. She giggled, but only momentarily, as she watched Jim peek out from behind the conglomerate of people shuffling in and out, plucking the earbud from his ear.

“Sorry, I think I missed that,” he chuckled, pushing himself to his feet.

“Our patient here needs to start going on walks for her PT, but she seems to be playing favorites tonight. She’s all yours.”

His grin was wary with shock as he took the IV pole.

“Woah, wait a second here. So many questions. Does she come with instructions? Do I need to feed her? What about a leash? Is she rabid?”

Clutching the IV pole in one hand while fidgeting with tubes in the other, he was met with chuckles from orderlies and nurses alike, acknowledging the orders that their walk was not to exceed fifteen minutes.

“I’ll have her back before midnight. Wouldn’t want her turning into a pumpkin, right?” Unable to hide his grin, he turned toward her, outstretching his arms towards the endless hallways. “So, shall we?”

The quiet that absorbed the atmosphere of a Sunday evening ICU wing was peaceful, calm, not as intense as the past weeks had been. Still, they walked in silence at first, hearing the scratching of her slippers, the squeak of the wheels on her IV pole, the clop clop of his sneakers over the typical whirs and beeps of machines. This way, it almost felt normal.

“God, it feels nice to get out of that room,” she finally said, throwing her head back just enough to stare at the ceiling as she made her proclamation.

“I’ll bet,” he replied with a chuckle, trying his best not to stare at her for too long, to not revel in the way that the new pigment in her skin made the light shine from her all the more brightly, the way that she was genuinely smiling, if only for just a moment.

“So uh...I...I didn’t get a chance to thank you for helping me yesterday.”

His lips quirked to the side, one eyebrow raised as a Hmm? peeked out of his throat.

“With my...the wedding stuff. Seriously, Jim. You didn’t have to do that. I...it was…”

“Hey.”

Their steps came to a matching halt, his eyes seeking hers as he could taste the worry that admonished the air around them.

“It was my pleasure.”

The way his lips curled up so genuinely told her just so. But still, her running thoughts from earlier caused doubt.

“Well, yeah, but...I mean, it isn’t even your wedding--”

“I know that.”

Trust me, I know that.

His eyes found the ground this time, as they picked up their leisurely pace, squeaks from the wheels settling between them.

“I wish...I wish it could actually be like that.”

It took him a moment to realize that she was talking about the wedding board, because in his head he was responding Me too, and It can be and It is, my love, you just don’t remember.

The pressure in his chest reminded him that the wedding he had planned not twenty-four hours prior wasn’t for him, wasn’t for them, but in her mind, was for Roy.

Roy, who had disappeared without a trace, had left her to fend for herself in this decrepit place.

He shrugged, eying her from the side.

“Why can’t it be?”

She laughed at first, a guffaw from somewhere deep in her chest. “Have you met Roy?”

Her eyes widened then, realizing that she truly didn’t know the answer to that question. His face softened though, seeming to read her mind.

“Yes, I’ve met Roy. The warehouse workers do mingle with us from time to time. He's also kind of, uhm, engaged to my best friend, so...”

With an appreciative nod and another breath, she restated her question.

“So, have you met Roy? He’d never go for any of that stuff. He’d call it girly and tacky and probably say something like That’s chick stuff, Pammy! It’s my wedding, too, and then demand that we hang up, like, football banners or keg stands or something.”

It was another of those moments in her time spent recovering that made his heart break. Not because she didn’t remember loving him, or because he was back in Jim-Pam-Roy purgatory; it wasn't about feeling sorry for himself. But because he had to sit here and watch her, watch the Pam who had come so far in standing up for Pam, settle back into a mindset of being told what to do. His strong, independent, brave Pam was shrinking back inside herself.

To hell with his wants and his needs and his desire to sweep her off her feet and kiss her like Prince Charming to break this damned spell. He just wanted Pam back. The Pam who was proud of herself, who stood up for herself, who took chances and could say yes or no of her own accord.

So, rather than settling back into his Old Jim ways, when they were just friends and he’d say what he could to please her, he pushed her, just a little.

“Well, Pam, it’s kind of your wedding, too. You get to have an opinion.”

But there was that wall again, the frustration and sadness and hesitancy lain up like bricks up to her hairline as she shook her head.

“No. I mean, you’re right, it is, but there are...some of these things are just...if I bring it up, we’ll probably just fight about it. I don’t want to take a chance on that.”

“You’ve gotta take a chance on something, sometime, Pam.”

They were stopped now, his words hanging as low as his gaze that hit the floor, memories of I’m fine with my choices assaulting him from all those years ago. Because back then, they hadn’t been her choices, and she’d come too far to revert back to those old ways again. He pulled his eyes slowly to her, a body that was dwarfed by thin hospital cotton, goosebumps rising on uncovered legs. Maybe he’d see if the doctors wouldn’t mind him bringing by a pair of sweatpants for her, if she’d be up and walking now. He didn't want her getting pneumonia on top of everything else.

She was thinking, intently, her eyes so laser focused on the IV bag, he thought she might burn a hole in it. In the back of his mind, he was secretly hoping she was remembering something. But instead, she just shook her head, smiled at him apologetically, and whispered, “Sometimes, I just don’t get Roy.”

Suddenly, her entire body went cold, as if winter had rushed through the hallway doors. The scent of antiseptic was replaced with freshwater and fish and maybe a hint of alcohol. His eyes lingered on her as she processed, for something like half a minute, their intensity so burning and severe that she tried to pull away, but ultimately couldn’t. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt trapped beneath his gaze, the forest of his eyes deepening to charcoal as he lingered.

The deck of a ship, cool metal beneath her fingers, You cheered for them, didn't you? A-W-E-S-O-M-E, jealousy, jealous of Katy? Who is Katy? Pam six-point-oh, June 10th, he was going to say something wasn’t he?

It was a whirlwind, nearly knocking her to her feet, when strong hands were at her waist, spreading the width of her back, a soft Woah, hey, take it easy, Beesly as his eyes widened in concern, finally snapping her from her trance. There were no doctors in their vicinity, and suddenly, the floor was disappearing from beneath her, his arms holding her protectively to his chest. Winding her hands behind his neck felt almost second nature as she curled her nose into his chest, but the scent of him, that spice and mint and a hint of lavender because he likes to steal my lotion even though he denies it only had her clinging to him harder.

What’s going on what’s going on what’s going ON?

His words, thick and soothing like honey in her ear, pulled her back to reality.

“Shh, hey, it’s okay. I’m going to go get the doctor. I probably wasn’t paying attention to how long we were walking around. It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

His fault. His fault. As he set her down gently on the bed, smoothing her hair and tucking the blanket around her now shivering body, he had the audacity to think that this was his fault? She clutched at the edge of the blanket, willing the temperature of the room to skyrocket, when she heard a knock at the door. Probably Jim, returning with Dr. Livingston. This would be fun. Explaining to the doctor that she was physically fine, that she’d just had a mental breakdown would not be the slightest bit embarrassing.

But no. Peeking out from behind a bouquet of daisies was the pair of blue eyes that had stolen her heart over a pair of triangles.

“Hey, Pammy. Mind if I come in?”