Pam opened her eyes to a darkness somewhere inbetween the blurry nether region of sleep and consciousness. She sat up, panting heavily and certain she was not alone. The surface of her skin tingled like cold fingers climbing their way up to her neck, settling at her throat. Sensing movement, the air shifted around her and she stilled. The darkness pressed up close to her, robbing her of her senses. Shadows merged into other shadows into memories into six foot men with fearsome tempers.

Pam blinked the visions away, her chest bouncing frantically up and down. Wildly she scrabbled for the familiar cool touch of the lamp switch on her left, her fingernails scratching infuriatingly on the side of the night stand. Finally tracing her fingertips along  the smooth raised point of the switch, she pressed down hard, filling the room with bright yellow light. The shadows instantly vanished away.

A touch of irony played across a small smile on her lips. Shadow men she could handle. Shadow men were men she knew how to kill.

It was the voice that had woken her up, of course it was –its occurrence in her dreams had become a growing frequency. And where did it stop, she despaired. The dream itself had not been particularly memorable except for the intense fear she felt, but it was the voice, his voice, hoarse and beer thickened that broke through the barrier into her consciousness, pulling her awake – always the same voice, always growing in pitch, Pam, Pam, Pam, Pam.

A voice she knew far too well, voice that had screamed her name in anger many times, calling her, berating her – it was this voice that had latched on to her in her dreams, a voice capable of being perfectly fearsome; and perfectly real in both worlds. Almost beside herself with distress she frantically batted away the sounds, the memories coming at her through her senses and focused on slowing her breathing down.

It had been some years into her life with Roy, as co-renter of their little house, that she had started having the night terrors. At first they had been utterly petrifying, completely unfamiliar experiences beyond her knowledge and understanding. But if she didn't understand them herself, Roy not only didn't understand, was bewildered by them, and increasingly became infuriated by the violent shaking and wiggling around, the tiny, high pitched cries and shouts, her leaving the room in the middle of the night to make a hot chocolate to calm her nerves; that her interrupted sleep became his. At first he would ask if she was okay. These somewhat generous appeasements soon deteriorated into irritable grunts and then into complaints and elbow nudges.

"I swear to god you're gonna sleep with a pillow over your head tonight!" Roy tiraded one evening as they got into bed. And then there was the terrifying night he actually did put a pillow over her head and hold it down for a minute or two, before grunting at her to shut the hell up and let him sleep.

"Go get some valium." he had grumbled, lifting the pillow and smacking her over the head with it for good measure.

Pam shook the memory from her, threw off her covers in a quick movement and went out of the bedroom to finger the lock on the apartment door. Then, she went to make herself some hot chocolate. It was her fourth night in her new place, and her first nightmare there. As she curled up in the corner of her couch, alone in her living room, she counted off the hours until daylight. She missed her Mom. Helene had told her to call should she have any problems, but that didn't mean that Pam wanted to wake her up in the middle of the night. Her mom had work in the morning also. This was the hardest part of living alone, she thought, remembering the nights Jim had sat up with her for hours after a nightmare. The nights her mom had talked with her until she was calm and helped her fall back to sleep.

She sighed. She had wanted her independence by coming back to Scranton – to not rely on anyone, to take care of herself.

But right then, huddled into the corner of her couch, she watched the shadows play menacingly over the walls and thought it had been yet another trade off. She had her independence- or was it isolation; she wondered with a shiver.

-TO-

Pam yawned sleepily, putting a lazy hand to her mouth. In the office behind her, a high pitched singing was emanating. Michael's mood was exuberant that morning. Pam almost smiled.

The staff were making their way in slowly. The big surprise of the morning had been Angela. The petite blonde had brushed by without a word to Pam as usual, but after she had hung her coat up, put her bag down and switched on her nanny cam, she came back to reception, speaking to Pam in low, emotional tones.

"Certain things have transpired. And I'm sorry about the things that have transpired… certain misunderstandings about the things, the events that have happened. About those things, I've thought about them and how we could make things better."

Pam stopped her. "Angela… it's okay." she said, relieved in a way she couldn't explain. She handed Angela a tissue and smiled at her.

"I'm glad we had this talk." Angela sniffled and walked over to her desk. In a strange way, Pam was glad too. In her own way Angela's unique style of apology felt like a vindication in the eyes of her colleagues.

Pam was on the phone with David Wallace and trying to sidestep a vintage Michael disaster before she transferred him through when Jim arrived. Michael was in 'rehearsal' for an audition for West Side Story, and was warming his lungs by ttrying to turn the office into a musical. Jim smiled warmly at her as he passed by to his desk.

"Michael I'm transferring David through for real now. No jets, remember."

"Alright, alright, Beesly-ella. Game on."

"I'm serious." she said, and transferred him through.

-TO-

That afternoon the skies clouded over, heavy with rain. Pam came back to her desk after a brief lunchtime walk. Jim and Dwight were still out on their sales call. Michael was still rehearsing, with the unfortunately boisterous assistance of Andy, who Pam now unmistakably knew was a vast enthusiast of both musicals and singing.

Not that either man were poor singers; in fact they were both better than average however two men repetitively singing about feeling pretty and charming, running and dancing.. it had a distinct charm of it's own, with Pam the nearest in earshot.

A little later Dwight came back into the office, a smug smile gracing his face. Pam smiled to herself and lowered her head. Business as usual. Jim would undoubtedly tell her about it later on. She was sure that some sort of prank had occurred; she'd noticed Jim's mischievous nod to her on the way out. She knew him well.

"Whooo!" Andy whistled, the door to the mens room clunking shut behind him. "Someone's feelin' prett-tay." he lilted as he came past the reception desk on his way back to Michael's office. Andy came up towards her and leaned over the desk confidentially.

"A word of advice milady," he said, pressing forward, speaking with exaggerated secrecy. "the WC is occupado."

Pam offered him a humoring smile. "Uh, okay, Andy."

"Andy Bernard does not nard-block a friend getting bizz-zay." he said, raising his eyebrows in meaning and tapping the desk in tune.

Pam gawked at Andy for a moment, and then smoothed out her forehead, deciding she really didn't want to know. "Good job, Andy." she said indulgently.

"Give me a whistle when the coast is clear, like pronto. I'm not good at holding it." he said in the same overemphasized tone. Pam nodded.

"Between you and me, mee-lay-day, I suspect someone will hear the pitter patter of little baby tuna's in the not too far future."

Pam's face fell with understanding as Andy two-stepped back to Michael's office. She looked over in front of her. Dwight, head down, phone against his ear. Jim's desk empty.

Pam swallowed a lump that came unexpectedly to her throat. She glanced down the office to the bathroom doors, just as quickly flicking her gaze back to the desks in front of her. Karen's desk empty.

She thought for a second, her face flushing furiously. Perhaps Dwight would know where Jim was. But Andy had said… she was confused. Oddly enough she felt an unjustified sharp sting of betrayal. What if Jim.. no, he wasn't like that she reasoned. Roy was like that, had been like that. Not Jim.

That didn't stop her from getting up from her desk. That didn't stop her walking hazily to the bathroom door. Outside the men's room she stood, unsure of what she was doing out there. She didn't plan to go in, so what was she planning on doing? She didn't own Jim. Hadn't she said, nothing official. She said those words.

Jim wasn't like that, she repeated. Roy was like that. She stood debating, recoiling as she heard a muffled giggle. A female giggle. Flirty, seductive female. Pam backed away from the door.

She wasn't sure how long she stood out there. It was only the movement from the inside – a stall door opening and closing, feet coming audibly nearer that she stepped back further, quickly ducking over beside the water cooler. With hurt filled eyes she watched as the sturdy door swung open and Jim slumped out, his shoulders low and his jaw set tight. Pam's eyebrows drew together as he went by, not seeing her there. Seconds later the door opened again, slower, quieter this time and a furtive faced Karen slunk out and followed behind Jim back to her desk.

She thought she was going to be sick. She was dizzy. Slinking into the bathroom herself, she splashed cold water on her face and stared furiously at herself in the mirror. She felt like punching the reflection in front of her. Stupid, gullible, untrusting Pam. She ruined everything. She knew Jim better than that, so why was she feeling so hollowed inside, why so hurt? And angry, even. She didn't know what to do. She went back to her desk, avoiding eye contact with the three people sitting closest to her.

She maintained a studious effort to keep her head low and project herself as very busy. What she really was doing was thinking, confused by all the conflicting emotions and memories swimming through her. She was good at keeping busy.

"Pamela?" Michael said from beside her. Pam came out of her funk, looking up at him apologetically. Michael beckoned for her to come into the office.

Once she was seated inside, holding her notepad and pen, she wished she was back outside. She wished she was anywhere else but in the office. She wished she was home, alone, lying in her bed, pretending everything was okay. Jim and Karen? Karen and Jim?

"…...Wallace and Toby no-fun-flenderson off our backs," Michael was saying. She barely heard him. At some point Michael stopped and noticed her absently tapping her pen on the notepad.

"Woah.. earth to Pam. Where's Pam gone?" he jested. Pam shook her head at him before her face crumpled and she dropped her forehead into her hands. Her brain was spinning, her fingers wet with tears.

In a rare moment of sensitivity for Michael he kept quiet, sitting down calmly beside her shoulder to shoulder and holding out a faded yellow t-shirt to her.

Pam lifted her head, brushing at her eyes with a sniff, looking blearily at the shirt.

"Haven't got any tissues." Michael shrugged. "It's Toby's from the fun run. I was gonna… well another time maybe. Feel free to cover it in mascara and snot."

Pam's mouth lifted into a watery smile. "Thanks." she mumbled, taking the shirt from him.

"I know it's a tough office out there to come back to, with Toby and Dwight. Work with a bunch of idiots. You're probably mad at me for that joke about your mom-"

Pam shook her head. "It's not you."

Michael leaned back and laughed loudly. He exhaled. "Phewwweee. Good to clear that up. I mean.." he said hastily, looking at her. "I thought that I… the joke maybe…." he pointed to her face.

Pam shook her head again. Michael beamed.

"Oh, so you're crying with laughter. I made you laugh til you cried." he said joyfully. Pam sniffed and smiled thinly at him.

"Oh sh-" Michael turned serious. "Is this because of Jim?"

She looked up at Michael in confusion. "Jim?" she said, hearing the distant noise of the office outside.

"Yeah. I thought maybe he'd dumped you or… I dunno."

She didn't say anything at first, shocked into silence that Michael had somehow gone right to the root of the issue, so uncharacteristically.

"You know about Jim?" she said after a moment, wiping her eyes on the shirt.

"Jim and I are great friends. Hang out a ton, mainly at work. He tells me everything he doesn't tell everyone else."

"Oh, uh." she sniffled, lost for words.

"Look, about you and Jim." Michael began.

"Oh, no, that's, you don't have to." Pam responded quickly, cutting him off.

Michael spoke slowly. "As your father, I feel it's my responsibility to talk to you about this. You're not on your own, in your relationship with Jim, there's you, Jim and me."

"Father?" Pam wrinkled her forehead, scrunching the t-shirt tight between her fingers.

Michael looked down at the floor, pressing his lips forward and squeezing them together tightly. "I am your boss… and as a boss I am like your father and I feel an obligation as your boss….father."

"Karen." she mumbled. Michael sat up straight.

"Karen. Oh." he said knowingly. "It's hard when a new hot girl comes into the place, all exotic and tight assed-"

"Michael." she warned him.

"Alright. All I'm saying is Karen is… she's a novelty. She will wear off. You're the hottest woman in the office, still. Don't let that drive you to tears."

New tears slipped down her face. Michael, such an idiot sometimes, with such a good heart. Ass about backward trying to make her feel better as always.

"No." she said tightly. "Karen and Jim."

Michael actually laughed at that, damn him. She looked up at him with a betrayed expression. "Why are you laughing?"

"Karen and Jim." he laughed harder. "They go together like Justin Bieber and Justine Bateman. Sounds like a match made in heaven but it's so completely wrong. Karen is way too old for Jim, she'd be his mother. And that would make it really gross."

"She's really into Jim." she said matter of factly.

"Jim has that floppy haired, good looking young Shazam thing going on. We have that in common, it makes us great friends. But Karen. She's not for him. He's not into her."

"But I- they… bathroom…" she stuttered, wide eyed.

"Karen is into Jim… yes. Listen to me, look me in the eye." Michael said, tilting his head to her.

"Jim knows, god, does he know Karen is into him. He's not interested. He is less than interested. He has more interest in Dwight than he has in Karen. He's just too polite. He's not like me. Jim is a better man than me. Okay. I am a… fool…. and an idiot. Jim is not. Listen to me." he said carefully.

"So I know better than anyone about fools and idiots. Men like Roy are on every street corner, you go to the hospital and there's a Roy there waiting to mess up your life. There was a Roy in the warehouse, really messed up a girl's life. Men like Jim… you only meet them like once a hundred years, so you gotta find them before you're old and slobbering in your gin somewhere…"

Pam raised her head, staring at Michael.

"Look at me, listen," he repeated. "Men like Jim are rare. I wish I was a man like him. I have no filter. You can trust I am telling the truth. I told Stanley's wife about his affair. If there was anything between him and Karen I'd have told you right away and probably everyone else too. I'm saying this not to be nice but because it's the truth. Total integrity. You and Jim are like bookends right now. You let the world sit in between you. And you gotta stop that. But Jim is not afraid to put it all on the line for you. He is able to be vulnerable and say how he really feels. Listen to me, your boss, your father, your friend, your mentor. You have a chance of real happiness with Jim. Don't chase it away."

Pam stood up, wiping her eyes. Michael stood next to her, looking at her kindly. Pam blinked back emotion, silent communication passing between them. Impulsively she stepped forward and reached up, enveloping Michael in a soft hug. She breathed deeply, trying to get herself under control.

"Thank you." she whispered over his shoulder, exhausted with emotion, but feeling good for the first time that day. She thought maybe she was the biggest fool of all.

Making a sudden decision, she thought she'd see what Jim was up to tonight. Maybe she'd offer to cook him dinner. Not a date. Not, not a date. Just two best friends on the right path forward.