The most confusing part of opening his weary eyes was not the fact that he couldn't see anything, but the fact that he couldn't hear anything either. Attempting to sit up, he was completely unable, feeling as if his body was completely and utterly paralysed.

 
At once, Jim became frightened. Had he...had he actually died? He recalled something happening in the office. Something traumatic, something terrifying, and something a tiny bit embarrassing. The best part of it all was that at least now, he wouldn't have to stress about his stupid old blood pressure.

And then it occurred to him. Was that what had happened? Had his blood pressure become too much? Had his heart actually...failed?

Well, it seemed he had all the time in the world to figure out just what had happened. 
However, before he could get too comfortable in his befuddling thoughts, suddenly his vision returned. The view above him became clear; it was nothing. A gaze of nothingness hung above his body; not an object, not a person, nothing. It was hard to describe what nothingness looked like without sounding like a complete and utter lunatic. Still, there was no one around to explain it to anyway. 

A thought popped into his head. If he could now see (albeit not very much), perhaps he could sit up. Upon attempting to act out this thought, he now found himself sitting up with relative ease. Looking down at himself, Jim saw what he expected; his own body, still clad in his work clothes. His navy-blue tie was loose, half-hazzardly strung around his neck in an awry fashion, as if someone had been grabbing at it. His shirt, whilst mostly intact, showed signs of being grappled at, and he noticed upon further inspection that a button was indeed missing. A fight? Was that what had happened?

Tipping his head up once more, Jim still could see nothingness. Only miles and miles of endless white; was that nothingness? It was to him. Hauling himself upwards, he wasn't really sure what it was that he could do now, even with the use of his senses. At least when he was temporarily paralysed he could work towards something. Now he had nothing to consider except for what had happened to him.

But then, once again, right as he was at a loss for what to do, he experienced a rather drastic change of scenery. The world around him that he had dubbed as nothingness suddenly morphed, and from what many would class as the sky came a shower of blue. For a moment, his first instinct was 'rain', until he realised that this was no average April shower. Instead, what rained down before his very gaze was a shower of water colours, and the colour of such expressive paint was the most brilliant shade of aqua that he'd ever had the fortune of experiencing. And for a moment, the waterfall of paint raining down and staining his once crisp shirt reminded him of someone, though he couldn't quite name who.

Taking his first few steps, he ventured forwards, though he wasn't quite sure what towards. He felt much like a baby, taking its first steps out into the big wide world. Right at that moment, he felt something smack into the back of his long legs, and he turned around to see a small child no older than 3 on the floor, having collapsed after colliding into him, staring up at him with curious yet mischievous green eyes full of intent. There was something very…familiar, about this kid.

And then it came to him. He stared down at the kid, taking in his acquainted blue dungarees with the small embroidered duck pattern stitched into the breast pocket, as well as the stripy turquoise shirt peeking out beneath it. It was something he recalled wearing himself, though of course at a much more juvenile age. This kid was him! But there was no way. If this kid was him, then…

Just what was happening?

The small child blinked up at his older counterpart a couple of times, flashed him the signature Halpert smile, then got to his feet and toddled off. Such an eerie sight would probably never leave his mind. 

As floods of watercolour paint rained down on him, he continued to walk along the once barren path which was now laden with colour. Stepping on the splashes of paint on the floor was a familiar sensation; much like stepping in a puddle, although every time his foot landed in one, his brown shoe stained azure, and he left a small wet trail behind him as he stepped along. Just as he began to ponder what the next strange occurrence would be, emerging from a distance came another child, though this one was older, averaging out at about 8 years of age. He was wobbling along on a familiar red bike, a helmet fixed on his head. On his face was an expression of dear concern, and Jim noted quickly that there was an abundance of gashes and slices on his legs. 

Another thing he noted was that this child was also definitely, unmistakably him as well.

Once again, the child turned to look at Jim, though this time, he didn’t gaze at him with childlike wonder. His gaze was far more varied; almost as if he didn’t trust Jim, which he in turn found rather amusing. Still, he didn’t understand why. The boy on the bike continued to putter along at a steady pace, until all of his gazing caught up with him, and he began to stumble, and suddenly he tumbled off the bike with a rather feminine shriek, before he too disappeared.

Jim wondered how long this would go on for before he’d be allowed to return to normality.

***

Back in the real world, Pam couldn’t stop shaking. Her small hands vibrated vividly as she frantically reached for her keys. It then occurred to her that she didn’t even know what hospital he was at; while there were only a number of hospitals that it could plausibly be, the number of hospitals in Scranton currently stood at 8. She knew that because of Michael’s former ramblings about how well he knew the place, indulging her in all sorts of information about the number of schools there, the number of cafes, and the number of women native to the city who he had banged. The last one was far too much information, but then again, it was Michael. It was merely fortunate that she’d remembered such a tiny bit of information amidst every other nugget of information that she genuinely did not need to know.

The most likely candidate was the Regional Hospital of Scranton, a fairly close hospital where Jim had dragged Michael and Dwight before when Dwight had been thoroughly concussed. Finally managing to grasp her keys, she rushed out the door with a slam, tears rushing down her cheeks. 

Exhaustion weighed down her eyelids as she slipped into the driver’s seat, but the thought of Jim, lying on an operating table, completely lifeless, quite literally drove her to the hospital. It appeared that luck was on her side for once today, because as soon as she pulled up to the hospital, searching wildly for a spot in the small car park, she quickly picked up on three familiar cars; one belonging to Toby, one belonging to Karen, and one belonging to…Michael, apparently. Yep, that tiny Seabring that was probably the most inefficient car she’d ever laid eyes on most definitely belonged to her boss. What was he doing here? The other two made sense; Toby had been there when it had happened, while Karen was…well, that one was obvious. She didn’t want to dwell on the obvious for any longer than necessary. Michael, however…that was a whole other story.

It only occurred to Pam as soon as she stepped inside the hospital just how on edge she currently was. Hospitals…scared her. It wasn’t just the fact that they often had a weird smell, and because she had had a bad experience with one involving a broken arm and a lot of screaming at a rather young age. There was merely something off putting about the entire concept. Maybe it was because lots of people came here to die. 

Jim was in there, right now.

Would Jim die?

No. Nope. No. He couldn’t. There was no way.

She couldn’t- no, wouldn’t let that happen. Ignoring the fact that there was no way that she could possibly decide the outcome, she ventured onwards in search of familiar faces. When she couldn’t find anyone on the first floor, she awkwardly shuffled over to the front desk, almost entirely uncomfortably stuffy in her coat apart from her nose, which felt frozen. “Um, excuse me?”

The woman behind the desk glanced up, looking almost bored. “Yeah? What can I help you with?”

“I, I’m…” Rather suddenly, she lost her voice, and any noise that left her mouth afterwards was hardly coherent. This happened quite often; she struggled speaking to people she didn’t know, especially those who seemed insulted by her very existence like the woman sitting before her. Instead, Roy did the talking. But now there was no Roy to save her from possibly the most awkward conversation she’d ever sit through, so she’d have to fight out alone. “I’m, uh, um, looking for Jim Halpert.” Pam cringed at the sound of her own voice.

The woman let out a sigh, then began to type something on her computer. She stared at the screen for a moment, then looked back at Pam. “I believe they’re still operating on him.”

The word ‘operating’ brought up many images in her mind, and she winced. The woman continued, ignoring her visible grimace. “Although, you're not the first person to enquire about him. Everyone who asked about him is on floor 3, I believe.”

“Thank you.” 

Pam had never flown up a flight of stairs so swiftly.

Maybe this was why she almost collided with Toby, who let out a short gasp. “Sorry- oh, Pam, you're here.” He almost seemed surprised by her presence. “Yeah, I am.” She murmured awkwardly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly extremely bashful for no reason. “I, um, felt like I…ought to be.”

Why was she here? She really had no reason to be. Toby hadn't even asked her too; he'd only been informing her. The more she thought about it, the stranger her presence felt. It wasn’t too late to turn around and go home now, was it? She could do with the sleep, after all-

“Pama-lama-ding-dong!”

She didn’t need to guess twice in order to identify the owner of that particular voice. Michael rushed over to her, a large teddy bear wedged under one arm and a large card under the other. “You're here! I did wonder when you’d be getting here.”

“When I’d be…?” she echoed, confused. “I didn’t tell you I was coming..."

His face contorted in confusion. “Well, you didn’t, but…you know, it’s Jim! You're you! You're there for each other.”

Pam stared him down, eyes wide. Before she could compose herself enough to dignify that with a response, yet another voice cut in. “Oh, uh, hey Pam.” The feminine voice of Karen entered her ears. The two women faced each other, and Pam quickly picked up on the fact that Karen had also attempted to conceal that she had been crying quite severely. She just hoped Karen couldn’t pick up on the same fact about her.

“Hi, Karen.” She wasn’t too sure what exactly to say next. ‘Crazy reason why we’re here, isn’t it?’ felt a bit too casual, while ‘what if he dies?’ Was far too forward. Instead, she just said nothing. The small group of people were silent for a few seconds, until, funnily enough, Toby was the one to break the silence. “Coffee. Um, uh, I’ll go and, uh, get us some coffee.” He murmured, then disappeared.

The three of them looked at each other, then sat down in three chairs resting against the wall. They were silent for a while, before Pam spoke up, her head turned towards Michael. “Uh, Michael, I don’t mean to be rude, but…what exactly are you doing here?”
“Um, excuse me! I have a right to be here! I’m like his father!”

“You really aren’t.”

“I’m the closest thing he has!”

Pam was too exhausted to point out that the closest thing Jim had to a father would be his actual father. If she had to do any more thinking than necessary, she’d probably collapse. The more she thought about how tired she was, the heavier her eyes felt. She rested her head against the back of her chair, eyes closed. Maybe if she closed them hard enough, the world around her would disappear, and when she woke up, Jim would be fine. And maybe…maybe…maybe he wouldn’t hate her anymore.

Suddenly, she felt something plop into her lap. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and glanced down at whatever it could be, and found a teddy bear resting there calmly. Despite being extremely tired, she quickly realised that it had been given to her by none other than Michael. Definitively exhausted and brimming with emotion, she sniffled, feeling along onslaught of tears coming. The sight of it almost broke her. Pam hugged it to her chest, though she desperately wanted to bury her face in the fur and pretend she wasn't here right now. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome,” Michael mumbled, for once, not ruining the mood with a silly or offhandish comment. Karen said nothing, merely observing.

A few minutes later, Toby came back, clutching 4 coffees rather awkwardly. “Uh, okay, I got everyone some coffee. Karen, I got yours black- that’s correct, right?” 

“Yeah, thanks Toby.” Pam thought that was decidedly fitting of her. Assessing the people around her, she could easily figure out how they usually took their coffee. Michael (who was currently eyeing Toby suspiciously but choosing to keep his mouth shut), disgustingly sweet; excessive lashings of milk and no less than 4 sugars. Karen, hard and bitter; no milk and no sugar. Toby…well, he usually just had the same as her, for whatever reason. Pam, normal; small amount of milk and a sugar or two. Spoke volumes, really.

Her mind wandered to the man in the other room. Jim liked it rather straight, though he sometimes took more sugar, depending on how he felt. Even thinking about him made her want to tear up again, and she quickly drank her somewhat disgusting coffee to distract her from the current circumstances.

Seconds turned into minutes, which then, as they so often did, turned into hours. Michael began to get restless after 10 minutes of not-so-discreetly flicking droplets of coffee at Toby and began to pace the ward, no doubt setting countless nurses on edge. Toby merely looked at the floor, occasionally checking his watch every so often, just to check that time hadn’t suddenly stopped, since it certainly felt that way. Karen kept trying to talk to him, attempting to pry information from him since he was the only one there when Jim had had his heart attack, but he didn’t offer much, apart from a few nods or shakes of his head. Pam merely hugged the teddy bear close and stared at the wall, relentlessly counting the minutes in her head. 

Just as she was 49 seconds into the 134th minute, Michael let out a shriek of annoyance. “I cannot live like this. I need social interaction! This is what killed the cavemen! Well, that and the dinosaurs.”

While the dinosaur line made Pam internally chortle, she was inclined to agree with him. She didn’t want to leave, in case they finished surgery on him and he was allowed visitors, but this was extremely boring. The exhaustion was catching up very easily, and once again her eyelids became heavy. She yawned softly. 

"I know what you mean." Toby chipped in, though his contribution to the conversation was sure to be ignored. "Look, uh, I really hope things turn out well with the surgery, but I need to be getting home. My ex-wife is looking after Sasha at the moment, and it's long past her bedtime."

"Who, your ex wife or Sasha?" Pam teased in an attempt to lighten the mood. The group, minus Michael (though there was no surprise there), laughed quietly.  "Probably both of them."

"So you're abandoning Jim? Just like that?" Michael queried, his tone surprisingly hurt. "Wow. Some friend you are."

"Take no notice," Pam murmured, a little bit annoyed with her bosses non-stop quips. "You get off. We'll keep in touch."

"Thanks, Pam. Well, uh, good night everybody." He smiled weakly as he got to his feet, then headed off down the corridor. Pam observed him as he headed off. She sometimes wished she could spend more time with him, but they never seemed to get the timing right. And besides, now she was diverting all her attention to Jim. Not that she really ought to.

A little while later, a doctor emerged from a nearby room, looking entirely spent, though still intent on doing something. He spotted the nearby gaggle of people and approached them. "Are you three here to see Jim Halpert?"

At once, all of them perked up, and Karen was the first to get to her feet. "Um, that's right. I'm his girlfriend." She stated in a louder tone than usual, as if to try and reinforce it in Pam's mind. Pam pursed her lips but said nothing. 

"Right. I'm Dr. O'Mahoney. Well, we've performed a PCI on him. I'm sorry it took so long; it's a rather unusual situation. These sort of operations usually take an hour or so, but we had a rather hard job with Jim. Plus...this whole scenario. It doesn't make a lot of sense, since he appears to be in rather decent health." He looked down at his clipboard. "It's just so bizzare…" 

Pam paused, her mind whirring, until it occurred to her exactly what was wrong. "Um," she spoke up, surprising not only the other three but herself, "I think I have an idea why."

Dr O'Mahoney glanced at her, curious. "Really? Any information at this stage would be helpful."

"Jim...Jim told me earlier that he has high blood pressure."

Karen turned on her heel to look at Pam, her gaze expectedly cold. "He said what?"
She tried to ignore Karen's steely stare and focused on the doctor. "Yeah. Um, he was on the phone to his doctor, and after that he told me that he has high blood pressure. He thinks it's hereditary."

The doctor appeared pleased. "Thank you for telling me. This is a big help. Did he say what his doctor's name was, so I can potentially get into contact with them and assess Jim's situation?"

"No, sorry."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you anyway."

Pam felt her cheeks flush, though it was already helped by the stuffy atmosphere. She liked being helpful. Still, the news that she'd supplied the doctor with insight wasn't enough to calm her jittery nerves as she picked at her nails awkwardly.

"Can we see him?" Michael queried.

Dr O'Mahoney sighed. "This is the part I was worried about telling you. It would appear that Jim's gone into a coma. I wouldn't worry about it too much; it's not too uncommon in heart attack victims. Still, this may last for some time. I can't exactly estimate when he may come out of it...or even if he will at all. I'm sorry."

The next thing Pam felt, other than her own emotional heart attack, was the hard, cold tile floor as it connected with her skull.