Pam placed the potted plant on the rickety looking table and glanced at her mother, hoping for some kind of reaction. When her mother's gaze remained unfocused and cloudy, Pam sat in the visitors chair with a defeated sigh. She hated visiting her mother in this place, in this home that isn't really a home and never could be. Not with the corners of the table sanded down so her mother wouldn't hurt herself, not with the bland white walls.

“You having a good day Mom?” Pam asked. On a good day her mother recognized her. On a bad day it was like trying to have a conversation with a four year old.

“Oh fine, Pam, I'm going to play tennis with Mrs. Miller across the street this afternoon. You be good and take care of your algebra homework before you watch TV, alright?”

Pam didn't bother correcting her mother, its wasn't worth it. “Sure, Mom, I will.”

She lets her mother talk for a while, nodding and throwing in a word of agreement every once and a while. It was easier to just let her babble and, Pam thought, perhaps a bit foolishly, that it made her mother feel better too.

“I have to go Mom,” she finally announced after thirty minutes were up. “I have work.”

“Oh Pam, wait, before you go...” Her mother's hands clasped hers and there was a desperate look on her mother's face. “Can you make the room go away? Like before?”

Pam nervously glanced towards the door where a guard was pacing rather lazily, Pam doubted he paid much attention to their conversation. “Mom, did you tell anyone I can make the room go away?”

“Oh no dear, I did promise after all.”

It was sad and sweet that her mother had forgotten so much about her own life, but still remembered when to keep a promise. Pam's resolve shattered and she shifted in her seat, focusing.

“Okay, close your eyes.” Her mother did so. “Can you see what you want the room to be?”

“Oh let's do the lake house this time, Pam.”

Pam smiled as she closed her own eyes. “Okay. The lake house.”

In her mind's eyes Pam pictured the living room of their lake house down to the smallest detail possible. She reached out to her mother's mind and filled in the gaps in her own image. When she was satisfied, Pam opened her eyes.

“You can open your eyes now, Mom.”

The white walls, the rounded off and rickety table were both gone. Replaced by a rustic cabin with a fire place and soft plaid sofa. Pam's mother was beaming with joy and Pam allowed herself a smile when she saw happy she was.

“Thank you, Pam,” she said, fascinated by the fragile and intricate dollies on the coffee table.

“You're welcome Mom.” Pam picked up her bag and stood. “Now, I don't know how long it'll last this time, but maybe I'll do it again when I visit next week.”

Her mother just nodded and Pam headed for the door, knowing it was time to leave her mother alone with what was left of her sanity. Pam knocked on the door and the guard opened it from the outside. He glanced at Pam's mother, who appeared to him to be intrigued by thin air.

“I think she's having a hallucination,” Pam explained and the guard just nodded. He let Pam past and she didn't let herself breath until she made it outside of the hospital and into her own car.


She did it for the first time when she was sixteen. When everyone else around her was discovering their own bodies, or someone else's, Pam was discovering the strength of her own mind. She developed a photographic memory and an interest in art. It was a normal hobby at first, she'd sketch and paint and her parents would ooh and aah in all the right places.

The first time she had an inkling it might be something more powerful was when her social studies teacher was giving a lecture on the river Ganges in India. He had traveled there many times, and was describing everything for the class in the most vivid of details. Pam was only half listening and allowed her mind to wander. Her professors words blended in to the background and soon Pam found she could see images before her as her professor spoke. She saw what her teacher was describing, only clearer, crisper, more real. When her teacher incorrectly recalled a pattern on a basket he saw a guru weaving, Pam corrected him.

She couldn't understand why the class laughed or why her teacher looked so horrified and confused. It wasn't until later, when the teacher admitted Pam was right, that she started to think that maybe she'd accidentally read his mind. Afterwards she tested the theory. She found if she concentrated she could see images of what people were thinking, never words, always images. Pam was a little anxious about her discovery, but figured as long as she kept her mind out of everyone else's, it would be okay.

Then at the homecoming dance, she'd gotten so carried away in dancing with Roy to one song, she started to imagine a different setting for their beautiful dance. Soon the dance floor was surrounded not by balloons, but by darkened woods and above were real stars instead of cheap string lights. The dance ended and when Pam realized she'd somehow made every other student see the same thing she did, she ran from the ball room.

Luckily enough someone started the rumor the punch had been spiked with something stronger then alcohol and everyone managed to laugh it off as an accidental adventure with ecstasy. And Pam added the ability to create mass hallucinations to her list of strange abilities.

Pam thought about telling her parents and more then once she thought maybe she was just going insane. Years past and her 'gifts' refused to go away. It wasn't until she was in college and suddenly the whole world was talking about evolution and mutants that Pam began to think maybe she was part of something bigger then herself. When the news first broke, regular humans now with special powers, Pam thought about telling someone. Roy, her parents, a professor, a psychiatrist, a doctor, anyone. She actually went as far as to schedule a doctor's appointment, but then the tide of intrigue turned to hate and mutant was suddenly a dirty word that meant different and dangerous.

So Pam learned not to talk about it, to ignore it. For the most part, she was successful. She and Roy were engaged and she was content, if not happy, with her job at Dunder Mifflin as receptionist. Working hard, loving Roy, it made her forget.

That is until she found out about Jim.

She hadn't meant to spy. Jim had gotten up from his seat and gone to the kitchen for more coffee and her eyes naturally followed him. They had been joking that morning about what would happen if they replaced the water in the coffee machine with soda and she wondered if Jim had finally decided to go ahead and try. Despite the fact that he and Pam had agreed the result would be super caffeinated but probably taste like dirt.

Pam watched Jim carefully pour coffee into his mug and then shift the pot back into the machine. Something must have slipped or maybe the pot was heavier then Jim thought, because somewhere along the way he lost his grip. The coffee pot tiped off the counter and was flying towards the floor.

Pam barely got out a gasp before the pot froze where it was, in mid air. It righted itself and quickly zipped back into place in the coffee machine. Jim brought his hand back to his side and looked around nervously. Pam forced herself to stare at her desk, her heart beating a mile a minute.

It had looked like Jim stopped the pot, as if somehow he had made it freeze in the middle of its stumble and return from where it came. Was that possible? It was then that Pam reminded herself that if she could see imagines in people's minds and create hallucinations that it was altogether possible for Jim to be able to move objects with his mind.

Ever since that day, Pam had been watching Jim closely, purely to try and gather more proof. She daydreamed sometimes about telling him about what she could do, imagining that afterward he would confide in her and she'd finally have someone who understood what it meant to be on the outside, looking in.


That night she was surprised when Roy turned on the news as they sat down to dinner. She'd long ago accepted that TV was a must for Roy when he was eating, but it was usually the Simpson's, not CNN.

“Why the news?” she asked, trying not to sound too shocked.

“Guys in the warehouse were talking about this bill that might get passed tomorrow. Supposed to be a special on it tonight.”

Pam was shocked. Roy never had an interest in politics. “What is--”

“Ssh, its on.” Roy leaned attentively towards the TV, ignoring Pam.

Pam stared down at her plate, rearranging her vegetables in alphabetical order. She was trying to block out the sound of the TV and the images in Roy's head, he was almost always thinking of something inappropriate, when the voice-over on the news program hit a low, critical tone and for some reason it knocked Pam out of her daydreaming.

“...tomorrow the bill goes to the floor of the Senate. If the Senate approves the bill then it's on to the President for his signature. The Mutant Registration Act has been in committee for years now, but its only just gained the congressional support it needed to get pushed through...”

She knocked over her glass of soda and scrambled to pick up the shards of broken glass from the table and carpet below. Roy didn't even twitch. Pam knelt down and stared at the growing stain on the carpet. Mutant Registration Act? The name was self explanatory, Pam would have to go somewhere, to some government building and let herself be poked and prodded at. In the end they'd give her a number and a file and she'd be black listed for the rest of her life.

“I can't...this can't be happening...”

“You okay babe?”

She nearly hit her head on the table on the way up, but she did her best to appear nonchalant for Roy. “Oh yeah. Fine.”

“If the bill passes, mutant members of the population will have until the twelfth of December to report to a to be determined government facility for processing.”

“Processing,” Pam can't help but fume. “Like...they're computers or something instead of people.”

Roy just snorted. “Guess so.”

“Do you think...” she faltered, not really wanting to know his answer. “Do you think they deserve that? The mutants?”

Roy shrugged and looked thoughtful. “I'm not sure. I mean, its just paper work Pam. They'r e just going to get a different...state ID or something. And some of those mutants are dangerous. They need to be checked up on.”

Pam picked up her dinner plate, suddenly not so hungry anymore. “Yeah, I...I guess you're right.”


The next day at work Pam was practically twitching with a desire to talk to Jim about the Mutant Registration. She nearly brought it up at lunch, but the subject wasn't very appetizing and Jim had just finished spending five minutes talking about how much he was looking forward to the turkey sandwich he packed.

“You're this excited about a sandwich?” Pam asked, laughing.

“I find joy in the little things, Beesley,” Jim admitted, not at all ashamed. “Its what makes life worth living.”

“Turkey sandwiches.”

“Exactly.”

So she waited. Specifically she waited until it was almost two, when Jim always takes his break. She got up from her desk at 1:59 on the dot and started towards Jim's desk. Her path was blocked when an overly excited Michael burst into the bullpen.

“Conference Room! Everyone! Now!”

“Why?” came an exasperated voice Pam recognized as Stanley's.

“That Mutant whatever-y bill vote is going on. Democracy in action people! Conference Room!”

Pam followed everyone into the room, hoping she didn't look as sick as she felt.

In the end she could only stand to watch some of the voting until she had to get up and leave. She went to the kitchen and, hands shaking, tried to boil some water for tea. She wasn't sure how long she spent standing there, staring at the kettle, waiting for it to boil.

She heard the door open and glanced up to see Jim standing in the doorway, looking worried.

“You alright?”

She sniffled back her tears and nodded. “Yeah I'm...fine.” Pam sighed. “Is it over yet?”

“They're still voting, but the thing passed a majority two aye's ago.”

“It passed? Its...law?”

He nodded. She turned away as she felt the tears well up in her eyes again. “Hey Pam, its okay.”

“No, its not,” She laughed bitterly through a sob. “Jim I have to tell you something.”

He brought a hand up to rest on her shoulder, warm and supportive. Pam felt herself relax into him just a bit. “Okay. You can tell me.”

She laughed again and turned to face him. “I...I know. I'm just scared. This stupid bill has me scared.”

Jim suddenly pulled away and for a moment Pam panicked. She relaxed a little when she saw all he was doing was pulling the blinds shut and bringing a chair over to prop against the door knob, jamming it so no one could possibly come in.

He turned back around and something about his face was different, he look resigned but also, determined.

“I think I know what you're talking about, Pam.”

“You do? What--”

“Was it the time I threw Dwight's bobble head right into the trash can from across the bullpen? I thought I could just shake that off as talent but--”

“No, wait, Jim, what are you talking--”

“No, wait, I know. It was the time Dwight's chair wouldn't stay under him, right? You noticed me moving it?”

“Moving it?”

“With my mind.”

Pam's eyes went wide and Jim instantly knew the mistake he'd made.

“Shit. You didn't know.”

“Well I had an inkling...”

Jim paused and chewed on his lip as he searched his memory. “Ah. Coffee pot?”

“Coffee pot.”

“Of course. The one I didn't mention.”

They both dissolved into laughter for a moment, more out of pure relief then amusement.

“So if you didn't know about me...what were you talking about?”

“Oh, uh, I was talking about me.”

His excitement surprised her. He grasped one of her hands and leaned closer with interest. “You? You're a mutant?”

Pam had avoided the label for so long that her immediate reaction was to tense up. Jim must have noticed because one of his hands moved from atop hers to her shoulder, rubbing a little in the vain hope to calm her. “I...yes.”

'What can,” Jim glanced around once more to make sure they were still alone. “I mean, what can you...do?”

“Um, okay, I'll show you,” she said. Her voice was shaking a little from nerves. “Can you...okay picture a...place in your mind.”

“Alright. Got it.”

Pam smiled when she saw his picture. “The roof? Very original.” The surprised look on his face made her giggle. “Okay, close your eyes now.”

“Okay closing them.”

The break room slowly dissolved around them into the roof at night complete with fold out chairs and plates of grilled cheese.

“Alright, open.”

Jim's eyes flew open and got wider as he took in the sights around him. “Woah. Are we...on the roof?”

“No,” she laughed. “We're still in the break room. I can...create illusions and convince people they're real. I can do more outrageous stuff, I just usually stick to simple.”

“Outrageous huh?”

“I sense a challenge.”

Jim pondered this for a long moment before beaming at Pam. “Dragon.”

“What?”

“You said you could make an illusion of anything. I want a Dragon.”

Pam rolled her eyes. “This is some kind of child hood fantasy isn't it?”

“Damn right.”

“Okay. Dragon.” Pam closed her eyes and concentrated best she could on an image of a dragon. When she opened her eyes she found Jim doubled over, laughing.

The dragon she'd created was curled up on one of the folding chairs of her roof illusion. He was purple and green and...oddly familiar.

“You created Puff the Magic Dragon!”

Pam blushed. “It was the only Dragon I could think of!”

“No, don't get me wrong, its very nice,” Jim laughed. “Very cuddly.”

“Oh suck it, Halpert,” Pam spat and the illusion around them faded away, the break room coming back into view.

“Seriously, Pam,” Jim started, his laughter fading. “That's pretty...impressive.”

“Thanks.” She said with a smile. They lapsed into a comfortable silence and after a long moment, Pam took a step closer to Jim. “What's going to happen now, Jim?”

“With the registration act you mean?”

“Yeah.”

Jim sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don't know. Will you register?”

“Do we have a choice?”

“We should have a choice. We're supposed to have a choice.”

Pam's gaze drifted to her feet. “The whole thing...its freaking me out a little.”

“Hey,” Jim's voice was soft and this time he wrapped a whole arm around Pam's small shoulders. “Its okay. You're not alone in this. Not anymore.”

Pam smiled at Jim and felt the surge of relief she'd been waiting for since she was sixteen.

TBC...

When Jim was fourteen he accidentally broke his sister's nose. It all happened rather fast and it wasn't until Jim heard the screaming and crying that he realized what had happened. He opened the door to his room and panicked when he saw the blood running down his sister's face.

“What's going on? Oh god, Gina! What happened?” Larissa grabbed some tissues from the near by bathroom and pushed it at Gina, who was too hysterical to notice. Larissa turned to her son. “Jim? What happened?”

“I don't know,” Jim said honestly. “She was following me and I told her not to come into my room.”

“And then...?”

“The door slammed shut on her nose,” he explained. “I don't know why.”

Larissa's gaze turned skeptical. “The door just slammed itself on your sister?”

Jim twitched a little, knowing how stupid it sounded. “Uh...yeah.”

“Is it possible, maybe, you shut it on her because you didn't want her coming into your room?”

“No, Mom, I was all the way across the room. I SAW it slam shut.”

Larissa sighed. “I have to take your sister to the hospital. In the mean time, I want you to sit in your room and think about what happened. I'd like a detailed, and ACCURATE report when I come back.”

A good three hours later, Larissa came home with a bandaged Gina in tow. Again, she asked Jim to explain what happened. Jim repeated his story from earlier: he was by the far wall at his book shelf when the door shut on Gina.

He ended up being grounded for a week. Every day that week his mother would ask him again to explain what happened. Jim's story never changed. He wound up being grounded for the whole month, for lying.

That's when Jim learned sometimes it was better to lie when the truth just wasn't what the other person wanted to hear.


Jim thought he could keep his abilities a secret forever. He just had to be careful, something that proved more difficult than he originally thought. He found himself using his, 'gifts', reflexively at the strangest times. One Christmas when he was still in high school, the tree stand they bought was bad and the whole tree nearly came tumbling down one night. Jim stopped it from where he stood across the room and then quickly had to run around to stand behind it so it looked like he had physically stopped it before his mother returned from the kitchen with the hot chocolate.

When the news broke about the “new leap forward in human evolution,” Jim was in college and had just mastered the ability to lift himself off the ground by a few inches. It was during the media explosion, with panel after panel of scientists on CNN blabbing on about this new phenomenon, that Jim finally told his mother what he was .

He began to regret the decision almost instantly. Larissa was confused and upset at first but eventually her emotions calmed and she grew accepting of Jim's 'talents.' Although the first time he passed himself a plate at dinner she nearly had a heart attack from fright. She was comfortable with the situation, until the media circus surrounding the mutant issue started to take a more dangerous tone.

“Mom, those people on TV, they're not the majority,” Jim told her. He'd insisted on turning off the TV when he found her watching a particularly aggressively anti-mutant round table on one news network.

“They could easily turn into the majority,” his mother warned him and turned the TV back on.

The days before the Mutant Registration bill went to the Senate floor his mother called at least twice a day. Jim dodged her calls at work and let her vent on the answering machine at home.

“Dude, I've had to erase this tape three times,” Mark complained. “Pick up the phone every once and a while, would ya?”

“Yeah,” Jim agreed with a sigh. Mark found out what he was very early in their friendship. An incident with a lunatic cab driver, Mark not paying attention to street signs and Jim's lack of self control put it all out in the open long before Jim would have preferred it. Mark managed to be pretty understanding about the whole thing, except when Larissa was freaking out on their voice mail twelve out of twenty four hours each day.

“Mom, its fine. It'll never pass,” he told her again the night before the Senate vote.

He really did believe it. Until the Senator that would put them over the three fourths majority cried out yay. Jim left the conference room after that happened. And after that, he found Pam.


“Are you going to tell Roy?” he asked her while they were packing up to go home. Nearly everyone else had already left, only Michael remained besides them, holed up in his office on the phone.

“About...” she waved her hand instead of saying the word. “I guess I have to.”

“Yeah, I mean, you probably should.”

Her hands clenched around her purse, knuckles going white with the strain. “I don't even want to think about what he'll say.”

Jim shuffled his feet awkwardly before smiling at her, encouragingly. “Hey. If he wants to marry you? He won't care.”

Pam smiled. “Thanks, Jim.”

“You have some time anyway. The bill still needs to be signed by the President and even then it won't go into effect until the beginning of December.” Jim glanced at the calender on the wall by pam's desk and wondered why November suddenly felt so short.

“Yeah, I just won't think about it right now,” Pam said, shaking her head to rid herself of the negative thoughts. “I'll...see you tomorrow, Jim.”

“Yeah, tomorrow.” He watched her leave before starting his own slow walk outside.


He wasn't at all surprised to find his mother and sister sitting in his livingroom when he came home. He glanced at Mark, who just shrugged.

“What are you going to do, Jim?” his mother asked, bypassing pleasantries.

Jim groaned and dropped his bag. “I don't KNOW, Mom. I've barely had time to digest this.”

Gina scoffed. “Oh god. You really thought it wouldn't pass.”

Jim shot an annoyed look at his sister. “I hoped.”

“Naive.”

“This has nothing to do with you!”

Larissa held up a hand. “Enough. Both of you.” Larissa threw an added stern look at Gina before turning her focus back to Jim. “Jim, have you read this Act in its entirety?”

“No.”

Larissa held out a hand and Gina handed her a large document. Larissa in turn stood, walked over to her son and passed it to him. “Do me a favor, honey. Read it? Call me afterwards and tell me then that you're not in the least bit worried.”

She kissed his cheek and walked past him out the front door. Jim looked up from the document to his sister who was walking towards him.

“How did you even get this?”

Gina shrugged as if to say it was nothing. “I have some connections in DC. Just read it, okay? And take it easy on Mom she's just...scared for you.”

Jim tucked the document under his arm and nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks Gina.”

Gina patted his shoulder and Jim knew it was the closest to an apology or sign of sympathy he was going to get out of his sister. He heard the door close and Jim shifted his gaze towards Mark.

“Sorry man, they kind of elbowed their way in.”

“Its okay, I know how persistent they can be,” Jim said sarcastically.

“Your sister scares the crap out of me.”

“She's a professional political operative, its her job to scare the crap out of people.” Jim sighed and tossed the packet of papers that was the Registration Act down on to their coffee table.

“You going to read that thing?” Mark asked, nodding towards the packet.

Jim glared at the pile of papers for a long moment before shrugging off his jacket and leaving it pooled on the floor. “Tomorrow.” He shook his head and went straight upstairs to bed.


The next day at lunch Jim walked over to Pam's desk and leaned towards her a little more then usual. “Hey can you, maybe get away for lunch today?”

“Um...sure. You mean, like, out to lunch?”

“Yeah,” Jim suddenly found he couldn't look directly at her and instead, focused on fishing for a jelly bean. “Um, its about, you know...”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah. I can get away.”

They wind up ordering a pizza and going to Jim's. Pam looked a little awkward sitting on Jim's sofa and she actually jumped when the pizza delivery guy rang the front bell.

Jim waited until they each had a slice of pizza and a glass of soda before breaking out two copies of the Registration Act. He handed the one he'd made earlier at work to Pam. She flipped through it for a moment before looking up at him, scared and awed.

'This is...”

The document that would determine their future. “Yeah.”

“Wow.”

Jim cleared his throat and stared down at his own copy of the bill. “I thought maybe we'd sift through it then...talk? Or...something.”

Pam nodded and flipped open the first page. “Yeah. Okay.”

They fell silent as both devoured the bill in front of them, taking small breaks to grab more pizza or pour more soda. After an hour past Pam finally broke the silence when she flopped back onto Jim's sofa, looking defeated.

“God.”

Jim nodded sadly. “Yeah.”

“Did you see the part where if we move to a new neighborhood we have to alert the local police so they can tell the whole town?” Pam growled and tossed the document from her lap as if it burned her. “Like we're sex offenders or child molesters.”

“I'm still hung up on the part where if we aren't registered by the twelfth they can toss us in jail for up to five years,” Jim muttered. “Oh, that and how the word mutant will be stamped on every damn piece of personal identification we have.”

Pam slumped down in her seat even further. “They won't give me a marriage license.”

Jim's head snapped up. “What?”

“Its in there, somewhere,” Pam gestured to where her copy of the bill lay on the floor. “They're suspending marriage licenses for mutants for a year. Until they can get a majority of the population accounted for.”

Jim choked on a laugh. “You haven't even set a date, I think waiting a year will be okay.” Pam's jaw dropped and Jim instantly regretted his words. “Shit, Pam, I didn't mean-”

“No. Its okay,” Pam said bitterly. She grabbed her purse and stood up. “You're right, its only a year. Its no big deal that I just had my rights taken away. Not a problem. Because I wasn't going to get married for another year anyway.”

She stormed towards the door and Jim jumped to his feet, following. “Pam, I swear I didn't mean it like that.”

“Right. Whatever.” Pam shrugged. “I have to get back to work.” She stomped out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

Jim groaned and resisted the urge to slam his head against a wall. He was about to go collect his own things and head back to the office when his door opened again. Pam was standing in the entry way, still glaring.

“I didn't bring my car and of course I'm not one of the mutants who can fly,” she grumbled.

The ride back to work was less then pleasant.

Jim somehow made it through the rest of the work day, even with Pam mad at him and Dwight being more annoying then usual by spouting off idiotic facts about the mutant phenomenon he'd looked up on wikipedia. Not surprisingly, Jim bolted as soon as the clock read five. Pam had left at four, telling Michael she had a headache. Jim thought about apologizing before she took off, but Pam made a serious effort not to look at him at all and Jim decided starting a shouting match in the middle of the bullpen wouldn't help anything.

He called his mother the moment he got home.

“You read it?”

“Yeah. I read it.”

There was a long pause. “Well?”

Jim sighed. “Yeah. I'm scared.”

“I love the part about how any of my future grandchildren will have to be fingerprinted and registered at birth just to be safe, in case the genetic abnormality is passed on,” Larissa scoffed. “They're practically electronically tagging babies.”

“How is any of the legal?” Jim groaned. “I mean, isn't the ACLU on this?”

“They are, but these things take time. It could take years for a case to reach the Supreme Court,” his mother explained. “At least that's how Gina's explained it to me.”

“Maybe the President will veto it,” he was reaching now and he knew it. He just wanted to believe that there was something that would stop this from happening.

His mother sighed into the phone and Jim closed his eyes against the sad noise. “He won't, Jim. He's under pressure, you've seen the stuff on the news. There are some bad people out there who are misusing their...gifts.”

Jim couldn't help but laugh at the word 'gifts.' There was a time where he honestly thought he was gifted. When he was fourteen and he spent that month he was grounded experimenting with floating books around his room. When he was drunk at seventeen and all that stopped him from dying after he fell of his friend Alex's balcony was his ability to stop himself in midair. Then it was a gift. Now it was a burden, a disability, a genetic abnormality.

Jim heard his door bell ring and sowly realized that Mark was out and he would have to answer it. “I...have to go, Mom.”

“Okay. Are you alright?”

He tried to speak around the lump in his throat, but it came out rough and quiet. “No.” He hung up the phone, knowing he'd have to call again in the morning to apologize. Jim rubbed furiously at his red and watery eyes for a moment before collecting himself and heading for the door.

Tired, he didn't even bother physically opening the door. He stopped halfway there and opened the door with his mind. Pam stood on his porch, her own eyes red with tears and she jumped a little when the door crashed open. She glanced at Jim knowingly.

“I...I'm sorry, I know its late but...”

Jim took a step closer to her. “No, I mean, I wanted to apologize anyway for what I said earlier. It was way out of line. I think you and Roy-”

“I left Roy,” Pam blurted out.

Jim stared at her blankly. “...what?”

“I had to, I...” she was practically sobbing now and that was when Jim realized she was still standing outside.

“Okay,” Jim walked forward and pulled her inside, closing the door behind her. “You told him?”

Pam shook her head. “I don't want to...I can't talk about...”

“Okay, its okay,” Jim pulled her into a hug without thinking. “Its okay.”

“Can I stay here?” she sniffled into his sweater. “Just for tonight. I need to...find a new apartment.”

“Yeah, its fine, of course its fine.”

Pam pulled away from him and gave him the smallest of smiles. “Thanks Jim.”

Jim laughed awkwardly and grinned. “Hey. No problem. We're in this boat together, right?”

Pam giggled and wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “Yeah. You and me against the world, huh?”

Jim watched her walk past him to lie down on his couch with a sigh. “Yeah,” he muttered. He decided not to ruin the sentiment by telling her that so far, they were losing.

"Do you want some more coffee?”

Jim was positively beaming at her as he picked up his coffee cup on cue. “Yes, please.”

Pam poured him a new cup as daintily as possible, something that set them both off into a new round of giggles. “Oh, you want a muffin or something?”

Jim had been busy glancing around at the elegant but empty cafe. “Um, sure, why not?”

Pam held up a hand and an irritated looking waiter marched up to their table. “Uh, we'd like a muffin, and a crousant, please?”

The waiter rolled his eyes and left. Jim hid a laugh in his coffee cup. “Jeez, Pam, he had to be a snooty French waiter? You just had to fall prey to sterotyping?”

Pam feigned insult. “Hey! You're the one who said Paris. We could have just as easily done a cafe in New York or Philadelphia.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jim muttered. He glanced at where their waiter stood with a few other waiters. “Is it just me or does their French sound...off?”

“Oh. That.” Pam blushed. “Yeah its because anything I project I have to...know. And since I took two years of Latin in high school...”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Latin?” Jim looked at her with disbelief. “When will you ever need to know LATIN?”

“Next week, when Julius Cesar comes to dinner,” Pam insisted.

“Oh right. Forgot. My apologies.”

Pam giggled and focused on sipping carefully at her coffee. The illusion around them wavered a little and she and Jim both looked up to see Mark standing in the middle of their 'cafe' in his pajamas looking confused.

“Oh. This again,” Mark grumbled sleepily. After a few days of Pam staying with them, he'd gotten used to being the odd human out. “So where are we today?”

“France,” Pam pulled out a chair for him and Mark took it great fully. “Would you like a muffin?”

“The muffin's don't actually exist, right?”

“No. But I can make you think they do.”

“Nifty.” Mark grabbed a muffin and sighed. “Well I hate to be the barer of bad news...” he slapped a copy of the paper on the table and Pam and Jim instantly craned their necks to see the front page.

“President signed the bill,” Jim sat back in his seat with a sigh and put his muffin down, imaginary or no, he was no longer hungry.

“We knew he was going to,” Pam whispered, she inched the paper closer to her. She stared down at the black and white photo of the president signing the bill, a line of bigots and the American flag behind him.

“Yeah, I know but...”

Pam tossed the paper aside and stood up. She rest her hand against Jim's for a moment and tried her best to smile for him. It didn't look very believable, but Jim looked appreciative regardless.

“Well, I'm going to go change. We should get to work soon.” Pam waved her hand and the cafe around them faded back into Mark and Jim's kitchen.

“Okay Pam, warn me before you make the food disappear. I just bit my finger.”



“Hey Michael, can I use the TV in the conference room?”

Pam looked up from her faxes to where Dwight was talking to Michael in front of the entrance to Michael's office.

“Ugh. Why? Did you bring your Beast Wars DVDs again?”

“No.”

Jim swerved in his seat to face them. “My Little Pony?”

“HA!”

Dwight glared at Jim. “NO. My cousin Mose just emailed me, there's this big riot in DC, it's all over the news.”

“Like cops? Sweet, yeah go ahead,” Michael shrugged and Dwight gave a thankful bow before heading for the conference room. Jim shot a look at Pam before nodding in the direction Dwight fled in. Pam nodded and the two of them headed into the conference room.

Dwight already had the TV on. He was standing a couple feet away from it, looking focused.

“What's going on?” Pam asked.

“It's the mutants. They're rioting.”

“Oh God, look,” Jim pointed to the ticker crawling across the bottom of the screen. “They killed ten people already.”

Pam felt the color drain from her face and she took a step back away from the TV. She felt Jim's arm wrap around her as she closed her eyes as tight as she could.

“This whole bill was a mistake,” Dwight muttered. “Politician's don't know the first thing about how to deal with potential super beings. You don't want to anger them, they have the advantage. Obviously.”

The images on the screen changed and Pam felt Jim take a sharp breath. She had to open her eyes at that and she grew cold as she saw soldier after soldier in uniform march into the crowd of rioters.

“What are they doing?”

“I think...”

She closed her eyes again the moment she heard the gunfire. Jim pulled her even closer but as hard as she pressed her head against his chest she couldn't block out the screaming.

She heard Jim's voice, deep and sad. “This is only going to get worse.”

Dwight's voice was full of pomp and circumstance but Pam heard the sincerity underneath it all. “Jim. For once....we agree.”


Pam was in the kitchen making tea, a natural response to being upset. Jim and Dwight were still in the conference room and actually having a semi-civilized conversation about the Registration Act. Pam hestitated a second before pouring two more cups of tea, thinking maybe Jim and Dwight would want some. She avoided the shudder she got at the mere thought that she was being polite to Dwight but, what the hey. The world wasn't being very kind to her or her kind at the moment, she could be the better person and be kind to Dwight.

She placed the cups on a plate and headed for the door when it abruptly swung open. She jumped in surprise and had to recover quickly so as not to knock all her tea to the floor. Hands joined hers in the fumbling and it wasn't until Pam was steady that she realized it was Roy who was helping her.

“What...” Pam cleared her throat and stepped back from him, forcing his hands away. “What do you want?”

“To talk to you,” he explained, sounding frustrated. “You just left Pam, you didn't even give me a good reason you just took your stuff and LEFT.”

“I had to, Roy, you don't get it.”

“Because you wouldn't explain it to me!”

Because she couldn't explain it to him. She had walked into their house that night with every intention of telling Roy what she was but in the end, she chickened out. She couldn't ask Roy to give up normalcy for her. Not after reading the Registration Act in detail and realizing the simply, every day luxuries she would no longer be able to afford. If he let himself be bound to her, she'd just drag him into the mess. He was human, completely human and she was some abomination. In the end, she knew it was better to walk away, much as it hurt her to do so.

“Just, leave me alone, Roy,” she begged. “For your own good, please, leave me alone.” She left the tea tray and ran out the door towards the Conference Room. Jim met her at the doorway, took one look at Roy, who was fuming in the kitchen, and tugged Pam away outside the office and down the closest stair well.

“What happened?”

“I don't want to talk about it, Jim.”

“Did he threaten you? Pam-”

“No. I just...I don't want to talk about it.”

Jim sighed and for a moment looked genuinely scared. “He won't...tell anyone will he? About you?”

“Oh, no,” Pam stammered. “No, he...he's really not that awful. I know what you think but...”

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed a little too quickly. They fell into silence for a long moment after that until Jim took a tentative step towards her. “Listen, Dwight says they're already converting part of the Sheriff's office into a processing center.”

“The bill was just signed!”

“Dwight says they started months ago, before the bill even went to the Senate,” Jim grumbled.

“That was optimistic of them.”

“Not to mention illegal and just a little suspicious.”

Pam sighed. 'Well. Yeah.” She glanced at Jim and smiled. “So what's with all this info from Dwight? You guys buddies now?”

“No, no, nooo,” he denied emphatically. “Its just...he's on our side. And there aren't many people who are on our side.”

“No I, I get that,” Pam admitted.

“I'm going with him after work, just to check it out. Do you want to come?”


The construction site looked like any other construction site Pam had seen during her life. There were some men mulling about in orange vests and hard hats, and areas roped off with yellow tape. The only indication that this was maybe not a run of the mill construction area was the ominous presence of black government vehicles and men in suits wandering in and out of back doors.

“Governor came by and toured it yesterday,” Dwight told them. “They've added at least ten more cells inside and a medical area.”

“Cells?” Pam tried not to panic. “Why would they need cells? It's just supposed to be paperwork. Right?”

Dwight and Jim exchanged doomed looks and Pam regretted their newly formed alliance she wasn't a part of.

“Its the medical area I'd be worried about,” Dwight continued. “I mean, they could poke you with all sorts of things if they wanted to. Suck out bodily fluids and try to harness your powers for themselves. That sort of thing.”

Pam was shaking now and she stumbled back, away from Dwight and Jim. “Excuse me. I...have to throw up now.”

Jim watched Pam hide behind the car to be sick and resisted the urge to follow her. Beside him Dwight shook his head and sighed.

“Some people can't handle this kind of stuff.”

“No one should have to handle this stuff,” Jim retorted before giving in and walking over to see if Pam was okay.


It was no wonder that Pam couldn't sleep that night. Jim and Mark's couch was less then comfortable and her mind was going mile a minute. She gave up around three in the morning and found herself walking to Jim's room. He'd told her before that he was a light sleeper so she wasn't surprised that he was already sitting up when she opened the door. He smiled at her drowsily.

“Can't sleep, huh?”

She just nodded. “Keep seeing that place. Seeing myself IN that place, in a cell...”

Jim groaned and flopped back down on the bed. “Yeah, I've been trying not to think about it. So...thanks.”

She didn't laugh until she could see that he was smiling, joking. She walked slowly to his bed, hoping she didn't look as awkward as she felt. “Do you think I can...? Its just kinda dark and...empty downstairs.”

“Oh um...”

“I mean, I can just...never mind. I'll-”

“No its okay,” he moved over on the bed and handed her an extra pillow. “Really its...okay.”

Pam tentatively took the pillow and grinned at Jim. She slid under the covers, a little awkwardly, and turned towards him. Jim smiled and did the same so they were face to face on the bed. He moved the blankets up so it covered their heads and Pam could barely see Jim in the dark.

“What...?”

'Ssh, Pam, we're hiding from the government,” he whispered and Pam heard the smile in his tone.

“I can barely see you, though,” she giggled. She reached out with her hand and her fingers brushed his cheek, which was slightly rough because he'd forgotten amidst all the illusions and newspapers this morning to shave before they left for work.

She heard him fumble around a bit and then the light next to his bed came on. Under the blankets the result was a soft blue glow and Pam suddenly realized she was practically cupping Jim's cheek with her hand. She quickly moved away, but made sure to smile so maybe Jim wouldn't catch on.

“Oh, there you are,” she whispered.

He quirked his mouth into something close to a smile, but it didn't quite make it.

“I didn't watch the news tonight, did you?” she asked to break the silence.

“Yeah,” he muttered and looked away awkwardly. “There wasn't anything new, they just kept showing clips from the riot. The mutants ended up killing thirty people. The soldiers killed ten mutants.”

Pam shook her head, still not understanding why the riot had happened at all. “Did you mean what you said earlier? That this is all going to get worse?”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

“Just a little pessimistic,” she said, trying to sound like she was just poking fun at him, but her voice fell short of the mark.

“I WAS optimistic about this,” he said. “And then they wrote the damn Registration Act. And then they passed it. And then the President signed it. And then someone ordered troops to kill other Americans.” He shook his head and looked at her, apologetic. “I'm kind of over being optimistic at this point.”

Something about the resignation in Jim's tone made Pam sad. He had visibly withdrawn, his usual goofy smile and sweet expression replaced with something cold and hard.

“There are plenty of good people still out there,” Pam insisted. “You never know.”

Jim glanced over at her and couldn't help but match her cheerful smile. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Ah, see, that's more like it.”

“Well its easy to be hopeful when you're here.”

Pam smiled, pleased. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I'll have to put off that apartment search for another week then,” Pam mused, her fingers playing idly with a loose string on Jim's pillow.

“I'd be okay with that,” he admitted. “But you might run into a problem with Mark.”

“Ooh. I forgot about Mark,” Pam drawled. She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Um, what if I put a strip club hallucination in his bedroom?”

Jim burst out laughing and the noise alone made Pam's smile grow larger. “Have you ever BEEN to a strip club?”

“Nooo. So it would probably end up resembling a scene from Moulin Rouge or something.”

“Okay, I would stick to imaginary breakfast pastries if I were you.”

'Deal.”

Jim stuck one hand out of their blanket cocoon, groping for the lamp. “We should probably sleep.”

“Yeah, probably.”

He found the light switch and the room fell into darkness. She couldn't see him anymore, but she could hear him breathing and after a moment, his hand wrapped cautiously around hers. She smiled to herself and the last thing she heard before drifting off to sleep was his whisper of good night.


The next morning Pam was up before Jim or Mark. She'd left Jim in bed, sleeping soundly, not having the heart to wake him. She was in the kitchen when Mark got up, in his by now familiar pajamas.

“Hey,” he said and nodded at her as he walked to the coffee pot. “Oh. Thanks for starting the coffee.”

“No problem,” she said and gestured to the box on the counter in front of her. “Want a donut?”

“Are these fake donuts or real donuts?”

“Real donuts, I bought them this morning,” she said, she thought if she was going to be living with them, the least Mark deserved was a real donut.

“Phanxs,” he said sincerely through a mouthful of donut. The phone rang and Mark gestured to his stuffed mouth. Pam rolled her eyes and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Who is this?”

Pam was surprised by the rude, blunt tone at the other end of the phone. “Er, this is Pam?”

“Oh. Pam, he told me about you, okay” the voice said. “This is Gina. Jim's sister.”

“Oh, okay. Um, hello.” Mark was looking at Pam, confused and Pam just shrugged, looking equally baffled.

“Listen Pam, I don't have much time, there's been an emergency session of Congress called,” Gina explained. “After the riots...well....they're proposing an emergency resolution, to bump up the Registration dates. This thing passes and you guys are going to have to start reporting to Processing immediately.”

“Can they DO that?” Pam asked, horrified. “It was just one riot, can they just bump everything up like this?”

“Yeah they can,” Jim's sister sounded annoyed and Pam assumed the anger was directed at Congress and not at her. “Its not just the one riot Pam, there's been threats, some mutant groups are starting to mobilize, they want to nip it in the bud.”

“They just want to legally be able to round up mutants,” Pam grumbled.

“Better they arrest them then shoot them. Again.”

Gina had a point and Pam knew it. “Okay. I'll tell Jim.”

“Thanks. And...I'm sorry, Pam.”

Sorry didn't began to make up for it all, but Pam opted not to tell Gina that. “Yeah. Bye, Gina.” Pam hung up the phone and glanced at Mark.

“More bad news, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Mark sighed and glanced at the box of donuts. “I should buy more donuts then.”

Pam shrugged. “Not all together a bad idea.”

She left Mark to complicate the mental healing powers of pastries and slowly made her way to Jim's room. She opened the door and found him still asleep, curled up on his side. She reluctantly walked to the bed and kneeled on the mattress so she could gently shake him awake.

“Jim?”

He slowly came to, blinking up at her, his gaze slightly unfocused. His hair was a mess and his t shirt was bunched up in places. “Pam? Hey.”

“Hi,” she whispered, matching his soft tone.

He sat up and looked her up and down. “You're dressed already.”

“Yeah I've been up for about an hour.”

“Wow, I must've passed out,” he chuckled. “I never sleep like that.”

“Stress,” she explained simply.

“Yeah I guess,” he shrugged and looked at her like he couldn't believe she was here, in his bed, waking him up. Pam hated to ruin the moment, but she wasn't sure she could stay quiet any longer.

“Jim-”

“Thank you Pam.”

Pam looked at him, surprised. “For...what?”

Jim shrugged and the look he had on his face was so genuinely happy Pam felt her stomach flip. “I don't know. Staying here, being you.”

Pam blushed and searched for something to say in return. “I bought donuts. You can have one, if Mark hasn't eaten them all by now.”

“Donuts? Sugar's an excellent way to start the day.”

He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stood, making his way toward the adjacent bathroom. Pam watched him, all smiles and contentment and she regretted that she would have to be the one to make that go away. Joy was so rare when you spent every day being so scared.

“Jim, wait,” she slid off the bed and blocked his way.

He looked down at Pam with genuine curiosity. “Yeah?”

She grabbed the sleeve of his t shirt and pulled him down as she leaned up on her tip toes. Their mouths met clumsily at first, until Jim comprehended what was happening and let Pam pull him down an inch further to deepen the kiss.

As she focused on kissing him, Pam closed her eyes and wished.

Stay happy, Jim. Just for one more minute; have hope.