It surprised her how normal she felt that morning. Sitting behind the big reception desk as she did everyday, doing her job; babysitting Michael, tolerating Dwight. This was her life. This was predictable. In some odd way, she felt safe behind her desk, in her role as Pam the receptionist. No one expected anything of her there. All she had to do was answer phones and handle papers and be the woman behind Michael. Nothing changed. A stable, predictable environment. No upheaval. No frosty silences or angry shouting.

Sure Roy was downstairs in the warehouse, it kept him pretty busy down there. She usually only saw him once or twice a day in the office; those occasions when he didn't have lunch with the other guys downstairs and came up to eat with her or when they left together for the day. He had kissed her goodbye this morning with a promise he'd check on her later in the morning, a promise she thought there was a good chance he would forget.

She'd woken up nauseated this morning. It had taken a monumental effort for her to not vomit her orange juice up on the kitchen floor, only by soothing sips of cool water had she held back the violent retches trying to escape her body. Roy had suggested she stay home, despite her protestations that she was indeed fine. She couldn't look him in the eye. She knew what Roy had been thinking.

She floated vacantly through the morning, wrapped in a cloud of weariness and nausea until midday, when she slowly got up for her lunch break. Purposely keeping her eyes fixed downwards and attempting to look busy, she hurried out of the main office and into the lunch area.

Things had been awkward with Jim this morning, as she had feared they would be. She'd brushed him off, assuring him she probably shouldn't have drunk so much on an empty stomach and that an evening out with an unrestrained Michael was enough to drive a nun to drink, of course. She'd then gone into a meeting with Michael, effectively ending their brief conversation. She was surprised to see a glimmer of hurt in his eyes as she walked away.

The lunch room was empty and she sank into a chair gratefully. Another wave of nausea rushed over her and she leaned on the table, resting her forehead on her palm. She lifted her left hand absent mindedly and lightly rubbed her stomach. It didn't feel any different from normal, although she supposed that would come later, if she really was, if this was indeed morning sickness. A cold sweat broke over her. She knew that's what Roy had been thinking this morning, when Pam had suffered a bout of sickness yesterday too. Oddly enough, he hadn't seemed to be very put out by the idea. He'd never seemed interested in being around children but, she supposed, he had never actually said he didn't want them someday. She rubbed a clammy hand against her forehead and pulled in a deep breath.

"Pam?"

Slowly she lifted her head and a rushing sensation sounded into her ears. Her vision blurred.

"Pam?"

Pam blinked and tried to focus. Jim was kneeling down beside her, a concerned hand gently resting on her shoulder. "What's wrong, Pam? Are you sick?"

She nodded weakly, turning her head back slightly. The room was now moving around her; the tables and chairs becoming hazy and unstable. Before she knew it Jim was gently prising a cool glass of water in her hand. She took small sips gratefully.

"Better?"

She put the glass down."Everything's in watercolor." she said, closing her eyes again. She could hear voices in the room now, mixed together in a blur of wooshing sounds through her ears.

"Pam?" Jim repeated, more urgently this time. She shook her head and swayed in her seat. He frowned "Try to keep your eyes open, okay?"

"Dizzy." she murmured, before slumping towards the table.

-TO-

She didn't remember much of the journey to the hospital. She had simply let herself become a child, and was led out to a car and buckled in; a bottle of water placed in her hand and she had been driven to the emergency room. There were various distant words, questions directed at her in attempt to keep her awake. She was just so tired and her body was heavy.

Some hours later, Jim was still in the waiting room. His attention was divided. He was watching the door which the doctor had wheeled Pam through. Every few minutes though, he would catch himself eyeing the entrance way. No sign of Roy still.

After another half hour or so, the doctor appeared and beckoned Jim into the room. He was surprised to see Pam perched on the edge of the small hospital bed, looking blankly out of the small window on the other side of the room. She didn't turn around or acknowledge his entrance. The doctor, a small, busy man with bushy eyebrows and a stern demeanour spoke a few words to Jim and pushed some information sheets into his hand. Jim thanked him with a confused smile, watching as the man left the room with cold eyes glinting angrily. Jim shook his head, puzzled and looked at the information he had been handed.

A flush of furious embarrassment came over him as he looked down in realisation; the man knew exactly what had happened. The man had thought he was Roy. He shook his head again, walked towards Pam and sat down beside her. They sat in silence for a few moments.

"I thought I was pregnant." She finally spoke, not looking away from the window.

Jim felt an overwhelming rush of sympathy towards her. "What happened, Pam?" he asked her softly.

"I'm not pregnant." She repeated dully. He remained quiet, wanting her to feel secure enough to talk. Finally, she spoke again.

"Roy left me behind at a basketball game once, you know? Just forgot I was even there."

Jim was confused, taking in the small, skeletal figure next to him that was now his best friend and kicked himself hard. All this time. He was right there, he had seen. How had he been so blind when he had seen the signs; the long sleeved cardigans, the extra makeup. But mostly how could he not have seen what was right now as blatant as if it has been written in the sky in twenty foot letters? Her kind green eyes, stripped of the joyful light he had found so beautiful when he was first introduced to her, her whole being, the way she had cried in his car, had stopped spending time with him outside of the office, had stopped being Pam. Pam who laughed all the time, who at heart was an artist and the most perfect soul he'd ever meet.

Jim cleared his throat. "I'm so sorry." He whispered, ashamed. For the first time since he had entered the room, she turned around to face him.

"What?"

"I saw… I should have done something." he sighed. Pam looked down at her lap and didn't comment.

"How many times?" he said blankly. She shrugged her shoulders by way of a response, not looking up at him.

"I bumped my head." She whispered.

Jim shook his head at her. "You've got concussion."

"It was an accident." She said to her lap.

"Right," he smirked, pointing to her left wrist, wrapped in a white bandage. "That too?"

Again she shrugged. "Same accident."

Jim shook his head and after a pause, moved closer to her on the bed. "Pam," he hesitated. He was struggling to find the right words. "Can I do anything for you? Maybe I could call your Mom? Or -" She was briskly shaking her head. "Your Mom?" He repeated.

She hung her head low. The silence between them was overpowering. Slow tears had begun to build from the corners of her eyes. She sniffed quietly and raised a shaking hand to her nose.

"My Mom…" her small voice quivered. "Wants to fix everything for me." Without further warning she burst into tears, covering her face with her hands. Her body shook with the force of her sobbing, as all the anguish and hurt she had been holding in came bursting out. Jim put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, Pam." He sighed carefully. She leaned into Jim, her face streaming with tears.

"This…. isn't... fixable." She sobbed. In that moment he really saw how frightened and alone she was feeling and his body ached to be able to help her. He leaned over carefully and pulled her close to his chest, wrapping his arms around her gently. "It's going to be okay." He whispered, hugging her closer.

This time, she didn't pull away.