On the other side of the small kitchen, a six-foot-four storm was angrily stalking towards her, his jaw clenched tight, his face flushed and eyes bloodshot. Under other circumstances she might even have laughed – Roy was so awkward in his gait, and the hangover only served to exaggerate his usual less than graceful movements – and wild images of Elmer Fudd flashed comically through her mind.

"Aspirin."

Wordlessly Pam got up from her seat at the table and retrieved the small white pills for him, handing him a glass of water at the same time. Roy grunted out a thanks and sat down, stormy eyed and red-faced. Pam, who was suffering a minor hangover herself, wasn't feeling all that sympathetic to her stricken fiancee.

She normally looked forward to Saturdays. Roy usually took off in the afternoons with his brother for basketball and generally returned in good, if not pleasant, humor some hours later. Pam used this time for sketching or painting, absorbing herself in her brush strokes and enjoying the unpredictability of creating something out of nothing. Looking over at the groaning man, she was willing to bet that basketball – and painting – would be out of the question this weekend.

She was also wanting to call her Mom this weekend and when Roy was out of the house was always preferable. She missed telling her about the minor details of her day – to her Mom everything that happened in Pam's life was important. She would tell her the little things, office pranks, the new boots she bought and about her artwork. Her Moms cheerful attentiveness to even the most mundane details of Pam's day always buoyed her spirits and left her feeling a little special. It had been a while since she had found more than a few minutes of time to do little more than check in with her before having to rush off the phone. It was often hard, her parents living such a distance away. Aside from Jim, she didn't really have any other close friends anymore.

Thinking about Jim made her stomach sink. She was unbelievably embarrassed by what she could remember of their drive last night. She had been a little drunk, yes and was reaping the paycheck on that job well done currently. As much as her humiliation, she had a terrible anxiety that she had made things awkward between them and ruined their easy going friendship. She'd never really imagined that he wouldn't be in her life in some way, he was her best friend, sometimes he felt like her only friend. Trust her to go and mess it all up in the space of fifteen minutes. She didn't know why she had gotten so upset, partly her imbibed condition and probably as, Roy told her extremely often, you women always cry stupid tears over nothing.

Maybe she was reading more into it than just simple drunk tears… or maybe it was the fact that he had tried.. he wore so much concern and genuine sympathy in his eyes last night. He obviously saw how tired she was, she hadn't been sleeping well and he was concerned for her and she had acted like a hysterical fool.

She didn't want to be without his friendship. Sometimes he brought the only sunshine into her day, with his playfulness and his ability to make her laugh. Thinking that things wouldn't be the same brought the fresh sting of tears to her eyes.

-TO-

Jim himself was lounging around his bedroom, too distracted by Pam-centric thoughts to notice it was almost afternoon.

His was eyeing his cell phone for what was possibly the hundredth time and weighing up what he wanted to do, and what he wanted to do was call her.

He had been unable to sleep until near dawn, when he finally slipped lightly into a thin, restless slumber. He didn't know what to make of what happened in his car last night. Whatever it was, it had only deepened his concerns for her. The way she had shied away from him when he went to touch her – he only wanted to comfort her, the woman was weeping, for goodness sake – they way she reacted stirred up a pang of fear in him. She had pushed him away.

He didn't know what to do for the best. If he called her, would it be overstepping his bounds, as a co-worker, as a friend? Would it be careless, heartless if he waited until Monday? What if his true feelings were clouding his reasoning of the situation? What if he had a slight hope – or more – that she was unhappy with Roy and he was pushing that along in his mind, hoping that maybe one day… well he knew he was digressing. He needed to make sure that she was okay. For sure he wasn't going to get a moment of sleep until then.

Oh, Pam. He thought. Why do you have so much control over me?

-TO-

Pam saw her chances of a peaceful, Roy free Saturday diminishing rapidly before her eyes. The mans mood was darkening rapidly and he was angrily muttering to himself as he slumped into his chair in the lounge and reached for his beer. Taking a long swig, he looked around the room with displeasure.

"Where's the remote?" He snapped in a harsh, clipped tone. Pam looked up at him, pausing, her hand resting on the duster she was using to polish their little coffee table with. She looked around, not spotting the remote anywhere.

"I'm getting it, Roy." she said placatingly and circuited around the room. Roy snorted loudly.

"Perhaps if you kept this place clean and neat then you wouldn't be wasting your time looking for it now, would you?" he bit back at her. Pam chose wisely not to respond, and eyeing the little black rectangle under a magazine – one of Roy's magazines no less – she retrieved it and then held it out to him. He looked at her, a disdainful expression on his face. After a minute of Pam standing in front of him looking like a penitent woman holding an olive branch, he took it.

She went in the kitchen and fixed his lunch. The bacon was overcooked and stringy, he said. She hadn't cut his sandwich the way he wanted it cut. He then wanted a burger, because he wasn't going to eat that sandwich and what kind of idiot doesn't know how to cut a sandwich? Roy ate his burger with less complaint but still with the expression of displeasure on his face. Somewhat full and definitely still suffering the effects of his many beers last night, Roy grudgingly settled back into his chair and dozed off.

Pam turned the sound off on the TV and went upstairs to take another bath and get out of the way until his mood calmed down. It usually did if she just left him alone. She loved bathing, it was her private time, she was alone in the bathroom and her muscles seemed to hurt so often lately. The hot water soothed her body and she could relax a little.

She was adjusting the bathmat – she would really have to get a new one, what good is a slippery bathmat after all – when she was shocked into standing up straight by a loud shout. A hot flash of anxiety swept from her stomach and up into her chest.

"Goddammit!"

She drew in a breath and froze, fleetingly considering pretending she hadn't heard and climbing in the bath, feigning ignorance. He would just come up there though, she knew and he hated coming upstairs when he didn't have to.

"Ugghhh!" She heard as she climbed downstairs and tiptoed into the room.

Roy was standing in the corner by the coffee table. She was drawn to the silver object clenched in his fist, and realisation dawned on her.

"Oh Roy, I'm sorry, I forgot to take it with me – did it wake you?" she said, as pleasantly as she could, her eyes never leaving the big mans hand.

"Wake me?" Roy thundered, waving the cell phone in the air. "Wake me? Imagine, Pam, when you are sick and you just want a little goddamn peace on your Saturday and you can't do a simple thing like keep quiet and let me sleep?"

"I'm sorry, Roy, I'll take it upstairs with me, now. I really forgot it was there, I put it there when I polished the table." She explained tiredly.

"You did a shit job of that and all, too." He snarled at her. "Honestly I don't ask you for anything, Pam and this is how you treat me? You can't keep our home clean, you can't cook and you can't KEEP THE HELL QUIET!" He fumed. "What the hell do I keep you around for?"

Pam flinched back at the burst of aggression, her heart thumping heavily in her chest. "Roy, I-"

"AND you have to go waking me up, when you know I'm not well and how many times, Pam, how many times have I told you how I feel about your friends phoning you here? You think I want to listen to you prattle on about your little doodles while you're pretending to be Picasso and REAL important shit like who wore what to what award show? It's like you don't love me at all." he raged at her, balling his fists at his hips, still gripping the phone tightly.

"I'm sorry!" She cried out, shocked at his vehemence. "Roy, please!" She pleaded, feeling actual fear at the quickness of his fury. It had happened so fast. His face contorted with anger as he waved at her dismissively.

"All I do for you," He muttered, scowling ferociously.

Pam was frightened by the anger he was radiating. It wasn't often she saw him in this full blown state of naked fury. The night when she arrived home later than expected from visiting her Mom; the night she finished up with a broken rib that had left her sleeping upright for a few nights straight and holding an ice pack to her right side daily for weeks, only then had she seen him as mad as this and that time what had she done? She had… she didn't know what she had done that time. She wasn't sure what she had done this time. Rage made him appear even bigger, stronger and she felt as though she were shrinking in front of him. He waved her phone at her again.

"Halpert? Halpert, Pam?" he roughly shoved her phone under her chin and pushed her head up with it.

"Why is Halpert," he spat. "Calling you? Why?" A horrified look crept over Pam's face. Last night. Of course. He was calling because of her. Because of how behaved last night. Oh, everything was her fault, it was, it was, she cried inwardly, flinching as Roy whipped his arm back quick as lightning and threw the phone full force at the wall. Pieces of silver shattered to the floor, the screen of her recently brand new Apple spiderwebbed with cracks.

Before she had time to fully take in the damage, to the phone, the wall… and damage between her and Roy, she was roughly seized by her left wrist, big hard callused fingers digging sharply into her flesh.

Roy hurtled her towards the broken shards on the floor. She felt herself falling towards the ground, a sharp pain shooting through her wrist before his grip loosened and let go. There was a sickening thump as her forehead bounced off the wall, sadistically directly below the dark smudge the phone had left on the paintwork. She didn't feel the impact, later all she would remember was being on the floor, not how she got down there.

"Clean it up!" Roy barked and stormed out of the room.