Jim was sleeping. She wasn’t sure exactly what the difference was, but she could just tell, somehow, that there was more going on in there than there had been before. Of course, it frustrated her a little bit that even if he was in there now he wasn’t really with her yet: she wanted him to hurry up and wake up. But both she and Larissa were in agreement that this was Jim asleep, not Jim unconscious. The nurse smiled when they told her, but didn’t do anything different, and on reflection Pam realized that of course she wouldn’t do anything different: Jim was still on a long path to recovery, and what they were doing for him (IV drips, hospital bed, rest) was all they could do until he was ready for the next step.

Pam of course was ready for that next step right now. Maybe yesterday. But not, she reflected, before yesterday. Because before yesterday she’d thought Jim Halpert was lost to her forever, and that he’d never want to see her again. She still wasn’t sure that that second one wasn’t the case—it’s not like Jim had any choice that she was here—but she was just so glad that the first one was wrong. She could, would, did see Jim. And Larissa seemed pretty emphatic that she would get to see more of him going forward, or else. But if she wasn’t sure of that, wasn’t ready for that, before yesterday, it was probably unfair to expect Jim (who had been unconscious or sleeping for three days now) to be ready any earlier than his body let him be.

She and Larissa huddled in the waiting room while the nurses did something-or-other with Jim in his room, their physical closeness a mirror of the growing personal closeness between them. Pam had begun with a warmth towards Larissa because of how much she was like Jim, but their burgeoning friendship was deeper than that. She liked Larissa for herself as well as for being Jim’s sister, and she dared to hope that Larissa felt the same. This was of course especially important because while she might like Larissa because of how she felt about Jim, Larissa had every reason to dislike her for how she had treated Jim despite those feelings. But Larissa seemed extremely understanding about everything—and when Pam tried to broach the subject, Larissa laughed at her, reminding her that while Jim was “like, my best friend, and everything” he was still “my brother” and thus always and inherently “an idiot when it comes to girls.”

Pam wasn’t sure she agreed. After all, Jim had swept her off her feet so efficiently that she hadn’t even realized they weren’t touching the ground until she’d tried to walk away from him. He certainly understood her, if not “girls” in general. But it seemed to get her off the hook with Larissa for breaking his heart, so she wasn’t going to disagree out loud.

Right now Larissa was showing her the childhood photos her parents had uploaded to Facebook in a burst of initiative the prior Thanksgiving. There was Jim wearing a cute little dinosaur rain jacket (Pam was able to identify it later as a stegosaurus, specifically) while someone (his mother? A grandmother? An aunt?) hovered in the background making sure he didn’t fall over. There was baby Jim staring deep into her eyes—or rather, the camera’s—while being held at what looked like his first birthday party. There was Larissa, toddling after a somewhat larger Jim holding a Beanie Baby for her to follow and looking proud as punch that his baby sister was walking. There he was as a lanky (and adorable, Pam reflected) teen squinting at something just out of frame in deep concentration while Larissa prepared to dump a bucket over his head. Wait a minute…Pam blinked twice. “What are you doing there?”

Larissa giggled. “That was his biology project junior year, on mitochondria or something. He was so serious about it—like, unusually serious—and I just thought he deserved to be celebrated for finally finishing it.”

“Celebrated?” Pam could feel the Halpert rubbing off on her as she cocked an eyebrow Larissa’s way.

“Yeah, celebrated. OK, and maybe taken down a notch and made to act like the brother I was used to, but mostly celebrated.”

“That doesn’t look much like a celebration to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just dumping water all over him.”

“Water? Pamela Beesly! Have you never watched a football game in your life?”

“Umm…” Pam really didn’t want to bring Roy up in this context, and she wasn’t sure of the reason for the question, but she couldn’t help but answer Larissa honestly. “I used to date the quarterback, so I’ve been at a lot. But I usually pulled out my sketchbook by the second quarter. Why do you ask?”

“Because, my dear Pam, if you had kept your focus on the game, you would have noticed how they celebrate a win.”

“That doesn’t look much like beer in the parking lot to me.”

Larissa giggled. “No, silly, not that. It’s a Gatorade shower. They dump Gatorade all over the winning coach when they know they’ve won.”

“Oh my god. That’s GATORADE?”

“Heh. Yeah.”

“How pissed was he?”

“Oh, he was steaming. But I didn’t hit the poster, and Mom was taking the picture so he knew she wasn’t going to be on his side for this one. Oh, and one thing about giving someone a Gatorade shower: it’s really easy to run away from them because they just had a bucket of Gatorade dumped on them. So by the time he’d caught me he’d cooled down so much he was just laughing, and all he did was tell me that I had to share in his victory and give me a giant super wet hug.”

“That sounds…very Jim.”

“It was. I think there’s a photo of us both taken after that, but Mom didn’t put it online for some reason.”

“She really let you dump Gatorade on him and just stood by taking pictures?”

“Yeah. I think she was as tired of hearing about mitochondria as I was by then.”

Larissa swiped to the next photo, Jim at his high school graduation, then to her at hers.

“You two look so proud of each other in those photos.”

“We were. We are. Or at least, I’m super proud of Jim for the guy he’s turned into, and I know he’s proud of me for going after my goals in architecture.”

“You should be, and so should he. But I think I have to give the most credit to your parents, unless you’re going to tell me you turned out this way despite them instead of because of them?”

“Nah, Mom and Dad are great. You’ll love them—and I’m pretty sure they’ll love you.”

“I’m sure I will, and I really hope they do. It’s…kind of important to me, for some reason.”

“I wonder what that might be.” Larissa stuck out her tongue at Pam. “Don’t worry. They won’t be back from Australia for a few days, but when they get here…”

Pam almost tuned Larissa out as something panicked inside her jumped in alarm at the realization that Jim’s parents would (at some point soon) be coming here. Here to the hospital where she was keeping a one-sided vigil by their son whose heart she had broken and whom she had driven away. Larissa noticed her sudden change of mood and grabbed her hand.

“This is what I was talking about. Don’t worry. They know all about you and Jim, just like I do, and they know Jim. They’re not going to blame you. They’re just going to be glad you’re here. And so’s Jim.”

“Thanks. It’s…weird knowing that you and your parents have heard so much about me. Not that I haven’t heard all about you, but, like, it’s different. You’re family, and I…”

“You’re family too, Pam. Now, let’s go back in and see how Jim’s doing. I think if you can talk to him you’ll get over this crazy worry that we won’t all love you.”

Pam blushed, and Larissa mock-scowled at her. “None of that now! I want you in top form when my brother wakes up so that you won’t let him get away with anything stupid like pretending that he’s over you or not talking about the past. I’m not talking him through any more of that.”

Pam cleared her throat. “Through any more of what?”

“Any more of this little one step forward, two steps back dance you two like to do so much. If he starts that, it’s up to you to make him stop it.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“I’m sure you can think of something.” And Pam would have sworn Larissa winked before she turned the corner into Jim’s room.