It was barely noticeable at first, hardly more than forewarning tremors of something much bigger that was already taking place. 

Jim Halpert glanced over to the desk where his wife usually sat and felt his heart twinge again. He missed her on the days that she didn’t get to come in. But staying home with their baby was definitely a necessity, and he was very proud to be married to such a wonderful mom, honestly. 

He looked back to his computer screen, newly determined to focus on his work, but the words seemed to ripple across the screen like waves in front of him. 

“I’ve been up too long,” he whispered to himself, thinking of his 3am wake up call from the baby. He had been restless all night with a stomach ache anyway so he figured he might as well let Pam sleep. He could handle this shift, and he was right. Soon both stomach and crying baby had settled. 

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes roughly, hoping to jostle himself awake. That’s when several things happened suddenly. 

Pain tore through his body, starting in his stomach and radiating outward. It was very similar to being sucker punched, complete with confusion and your breath being taken away, but without the recovery. The sudden severity was unexpected. Sure, his stomach had been hurting off and on for days, but nothing like this. 

He grit his teeth, forcing his body to take deep breaths in hope that it would just pass. But the sudden pain was soon followed by an overwhelming nausea. For a split second, Jim had the terrifying thought that he was going to be sick at his desk in front of his coworkers. 

Thankfully, ninety percent of the sales department was out to lunch at the moment. That would make it much easier to slip out unnoticed. 

He pushed himself back from the desk, doing his best to ignore the horrible stomach pains, and stood to his feet. The room spun before him, making it impossible to focus on anything but the rotating lights. 

“What is happening,” he whispered, feeling his heart rate increase with anxiety. For the first time, he wondered if something was actually very, very wrong. 

“Get to the bathroom. Just get to the bathroom,” Jim thought to himself as another wave of nausea washed over him. 

He willed himself to walk, but his head felt like he was on a tilt-a-whirl. He stumbled into an empty desk, barely catching himself on the spinning chair. 

“Jim, are you alright?”

Jim blinked hard and turned around, trying to look as natural as possible. 

Oscar was staring at him, brow furrowed, arm out as if he might need to catch him. 

Jim tried his best at a casual smile and nod. The last thing he wanted was every eye in the office watching him stumble around. But the head movement was a bad idea and Jim was forced to steady himself on the wall. 

“Here,” Oscar said pulling up the chair from the empty desk. “Why don’t you sit. You don’t look so good.”

Oscars words sounded far away and echoey in Jim’s ears. He looked around and saw several pairs of eyes swimming before him.

“Is he alright,” someone said from across the room. 

“Jim,” he heard Oscar say again. 

“I...uh,” Jim gulped, but the nausea surged again. 

He desperately pushed away from Oscar and the wall and made a dash for the bathroom, making it just in time to crash into the floor. 

Jim heaved violently into the toilet, not caring who heard. His hands shook as they gripped the sides, willing him not to fall over. He wiped away cold sweat with his shirt sleeve, but lurched forward as he gagged again. He couldn’t seem to get a grip on his own body. 

The pain had become unbearable. Jim laid himself on his side on the cold bathroom tile, curled into a ball and clutching his stomach. 

Yep, this is where he was going to die. 

Then he heard the bathroom door creak open. 

“Jim?”

It was Oscar again. 

Jim didn’t care if Oscar saw him curled up on the floor like a baby. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. He closed his eyes, but that hurt too.

“We’re calling Pam, okay,” Oscar said gently. 

Jim’s opened his eyes again slowly and he saw Oscar crouching down beside him, with Kevin standing at the door, cellphone in hand. 

“No,” Jim said, pushing himself up with trembling arms. “No, she’s with the baby. I’m fine,” he panted. 

“You’re obviously not fine. You need to go home,” Oscar interjected. “And you can’t drive like this.”

Jim shook his head again, and the dizziness escalated. Waves of pain rushed through him and he felt sick again. 

“Oh god,” he gasped. Using every effort to push himself up and lean over the toilet. 

Oscar stepped back quickly as Jim vomited harshly again. Pain seared his stomach with every heave, causing darkness to creep into his vision. He felt himself sway back and forth. 

Someone was touching his shoulder. Everything was spinning again. What was happening to him? Someone was saying his name over and over, but he couldn’t respond. 

“He’s going to pass out. Call an ambulance,” Jim heard Toby say from somewhere beside him. 

“No please, please,” Jim begged. “Just call Pam. Please, not an ambulance.”

“Just relax, Jim. We’re getting you some help,” Jim heard. 

He tried to focus on their voices, but he couldn’t find balance in his body or his mind. The ever persistent pain radiated through him again, and Jim doubled over, his entire body shaking violently. 

“Jim, I’m here,” he heard, a different voice. 

Then he heard nothing at all. 

XXX

“They said to get him to the ground floor if we can.”

Jim heard Kevin’s voice in the distant darkness. Where was he? What was all the noise? Jim breathed in deeply, but was met by a stabbing pain. 

Oh yeah...

He pried his eyes open and saw Pam staring down at him, looking more worried than he had ever seen her. He swallowed dryly. 

“Hey,” he said, a small smile playing across his lips. 

“Jim,” she breathed. Just “Jim.”

“I don’t feel so hot,” he said wearily. 

“Yeah, you don’t look so good either,” she responded gently. She brushed away the hair that was stuck to his face, lingering on his forehead for a few seconds. 

She furrowed her brow and placed her hand firmly against his skin. He unconsciously leaned into it, savoring it’s coolness. 

“You’re burning up,” she said under her breath. She stood momentarily to grab a wet paper towel, then ran it soothingly over his skin. “An ambulance is coming,” she explained. “We need to get you to the parking lot. Do you think you can walk?”

Jim was trying very hard to be in the conversation, but the vertigo was unreal. He shut his eyes again. 

“I don’t know,” he slurred. “M’so dizzy.” 

“I’ll help you, okay? You’re going to be fine,” she assured him. 

Pam had an excellent poker face with many people, but he could always see through it. He could hear the panic in the subtle waver of her voice. So he channeled every effort into standing up and being okay, just like Pam said. 

Oscar and Pam each grabbed an arm and pulled. He got up slowly, clinging to both of them until he was standing on his feet. 

Chills wracked his body, and he became super conscious of the fact that his shirt was soaked through with sweat.  

Feeling like he might topple over, he put his hand out to steady himself against the wall, his breathing labored. 

“Take it easy. No rush,” said Oscar from somewhere behind him. 

Jim nodded and put his arm around his wife’s neck. He tried a tentative step forward, but immediately doubled, his stomach pain reaching new levels. For a moment he thought he may pass out again. Every movement was agony. 

“It’s okay,” Pam said urgently. “We can stay here. They can come get you.”

Her voice sounded high pitched and panicky, like she was about to cry. Jim felt a new strength resolve within him. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” he breathed, standing upright again. He put one arm back around his wife and the other pressed firmly into his stomach. The pressure helped, and he stepped forward. “Let’s go.”

The walk through the office was humiliating. He could feel the eyes of his coworkers on him, and once again felt relief that Michael had forced most of the sales department out for lunch. The longer they walked, the more he could feel himself leaning more and more heavily on Pam, the pain and exertion exhausting his already ill body. When they finally reached the door, Jim had never felt so excited to see sidewalk in his life. 

His excitement was short lived though as the pain in his stomach intensified once more, causing him to wretch suddenly and vomit into the grass. He doubled over again, audibly crying out as the pain consumed him.  

“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he heard softly in his ear, along with sirens in the distance. 

Pam and Oscar were helping him to the ground, but he couldn’t tell which way was up. His shaking knees gave out and he crashed roughly into the grass, moaning and trembling into the dirt. 

Maybe he passed out again, maybe he was conscious. He couldn’t really tell. He seemed to be coming in and out of reality for several long minutes. 

Toby was directing a vehicle into the parking lot. There were paramedics and ambulances and people kept touching him and why couldn’t they just leave him alone? He just wanted to sleep. 

He opened his eyes briefly to see the doors shutting him into the ambulance, and for the the first time in several long minutes, he felt a hand on his chest and turned his head to see. 

Pam was gripping his hand tightly. She was crying. Why? What was happening? Jim felt bliss, finally, like he was floating into the warm air around him. He smiled at her. 

“Hey, Beesly,” he croaked. 

His throat was aching, but he couldn’t remember why. 

She smiled back at him wetly.  

“Actually, it’s Halpert now,” she said. 

Jim’s smile faded and the familiar darkness creeped back into his line of sight. 

“I love you, very, very much, Beesly,” he whispered again. 

“Jim,” she whimpered. “It’s going to be okay. I’m right here. I’m not leaving,” she promised. 

But that was the last thing he heard, before he fell off to sleep. 

Maybe it was her new mother’s intuition that told her to go see her husband at the office. Maybe it was that psychic link she and Jim had sometimes. Or maybe, just maybe, it was a coincidence. But that seemed far too unlikely. 

Pam Halpert glanced over to the passenger seat where her husband usually sat and felt her heart twinge again. She missed him on the days that she didn’t get to go in. But staying home with their baby was definitely a necessity, and she was very proud to be married to such a hard-working guy, honestly. 

She looked back to the highway, newly determined to focus on traffic, but the cars seemed to ripple across the road like waves in front of her. 

“I’ve been up too long,” she whispered to herself, thinking of her 3am wake up call from the baby. Jim had been restless all night with a stomach ache anyway so he graciously let her sleep. She knew he could handle this shift, and she was right. Soon the crying baby had settled. 

She leaned her head back against her seat and rubbed her eyes roughly, hoping to jostle herself awake. That’s when several things happened suddenly. 

Her phone rang out shrilly, startling her and causing her to swerve across the line. She swore, thankful that the baby was at home with her mother, but answered the call anyway. 

“Hello,” she said, noting that she probably should’ve checked the caller ID. 

“Hi Pam! It’s Erin from Dunder Mifflin,” said the voice on the other line. 

“Hey Erin...how are you,” asked Pam. 

She never got calls from the office on her off days, unless they were from Michael, and he “really” needed her. 

“Did Michael lose his favorite pen again,” Pam asked jokingly, “Because I keep a stock of-.”

“Actually,” Erin interrupted. “I’m calling because you’re Jim’s emergency contact, obviously, you know...as his wife.”

Pam’s heart jolted in her chest. 

“Emergency contact,” she asked. “Is everything okay?”

“Um, we actually are calling an ambulance for him right now,” she said all too cheerfully. “And Toby told me that I needed to call you and tell you to hurry.”

“Oh my god,” Pam said, still stunned. “Yes, I...I will, um...I’m almost there. I’ll be there soon,” she stuttered, then hung up. 

She took the exit almost too quickly, her car racing along with her thoughts. What had happened? An ambulance? It must be serious for them to call an ambulance before they called her. Was he alright? How serious was it? Why didn’t she ask Erin these questions before she hung up?

Anxiety swelled within her as she pulled  into the parking lot, barely caring to park. She jogged through the doors and into the elevator, a painfully long wait. 

“C’mon, c’mon,” she chanted to herself. She didn’t remember them taking this long before. 

As soon as the elevator doors had cracked open, she slipped through and jogged down the hall, pushing the office door open with some force. She looked around briefly, not really knowing where Jim was. 

“They’re in there,” she vaguely heard Erin say from the front desk as she pointed towards the hall to the bathrooms. 

Pam paid no mind to anyone else around her. She saw with tunnel vision, her one and only thought, “Make sure Jim’s okay.”

Kevin was standing in the doorway to the boys bathroom. She pushed past him, kneeling beside a doubled over Jim, whose entire body was shaking violently. 

“Jim, I’m here,” she said desperately, but heard nothing at all. 

XXX

For a second she thought Jim had heard her. But as soon as she had spoken, he’d collapsed. She watched as Toby tried to keep him from smashing his head into the floor, but he slipped, and crashed all the same. 

Toby cussed under his breath. 

“I was trying to keep that from happening,” he mumbled. 

“What’s wrong with him,” Pam asked without taking her eyes off of her husband. 

Toby shook his head. 

“I’m not really sure I’ve only been in here for a little bit. Oscar was with him the whole time,” he said softly. 

Pam looked inquiringly to Oscar, who was standing in the background, observing as Toby tapped Jim’s face with his hand in an attempt to wake him. 

“I don’t know,” he said softly. “Really, it happened so suddenly. He was fine and then he was just very ill, vomiting uncontrollably. His stomach was in terrible pain. 

“They said to get him to the ground floor if we can,” Kevin said, and Pam could feel her stomach knot with anxiety. 

She looked back to her husband on the gross bathroom floor. 

“Wake up,” she pleaded in a whisper. “Please.”

Jim’s eyes fluttered, barely, and he opened them to meet hers. 

“Hey,” he said, a small smile playing across his lips. 

“Jim,” she breathed. Just “Jim.”

She felt like she could cry, but restrained herself...for now, at least. 

“I don’t feel so hot,” he said wearily. 

He was looking around, dazedly gazing about the bathroom 

“Yeah, you don’t look so good either,” she responded gently. She brushed away the hair that was stuck to his face, lingering on his forehead for a few seconds. 

She could feel the heat radiating from his skin and placed her hand firmly against his face. He leaned into it, and Pam bit her lip. 

“You’re burning up,” she said under her breath. She stood momentarily to grab a wet paper towel, then ran it soothingly over his skin. “An ambulance is coming,” she explained. “We need to get you to the parking lot. Do you think you can walk?”

Jim shut his eyes, and for a moment, Pam was worried that he’d passed out again.

“I don’t know,” he slurred, finally. “M’so dizzy.” 

“I’ll help you, okay? You’re going to be fine,” she assured him, half trying to convince herself as well. She was desperate to get him to the hospital as soon as possible, and silently thanked Tony for making the right decision. 

Pam knew she had an excellent poker face with many people, but Jim could always see through it. She hoped against hope that he couldn’t hear the panic in her voice that she had tried so hard to choke down. 

Oscar and Pam each grabbed an arm and pulled Jim up. It looked painful, like it cost him every bit of strength he had left. He got up slowly, clinging to both of them until he was standing on his feet. But chills wracked his body, and he looked like he might topple over.

Pam placed her other arm on his back to steady him, alarmed at just how much of his shirt was soaked through with sweat. Jim put his hand out to steady himself against the wall, his breathing labored. 

“Take it easy. No rush,” said Oscar from somewhere beside her. 

Jim nodded and put his arm around his Pam’s neck. He looked chalk white, like he still may fall over. Pam urged him tentatively forward, but Jim immediately doubled. For a moment she was sure he was going to pass out again, and had started regretting moving him at all. 

“It’s okay,” she backtracked urgently. “We can stay here. They can come get you.”

She hoped her voice didn’t sound as high pitched and panicky as she thought it did. The last thing she wanted was Jim seeing that she was about to cry. But Jim soon straightened up. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” he breathed, standing upright again. He put one arm back around her and pressed the other firmly into his stomach. Maybe the pressure helped. 

“Let’s go,” he grunted, and they started their journey. 

The walk through the office was slow and steady. She could feel the eyes of their coworkers on Jim, and once again felt relief that Michael had forced most of the sales department out for lunch. The longer the two of them walked, the more she could feel Jim leaning more and more heavily on her, the pain and exertion exhausting his already ill body. When they finally reached the door, Pam had never felt so excited to see sidewalk in her life. 

Her excitement was short lived though as Jim suddenly wretched once more, vomiting into the grass. He doubled over again, audibly crying out. 

Pam’s anxiety consumed her. She clung to Jim’s collapsing body, knowing she couldn’t hold him by herself, praying he wouldn’t fall. 

“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” she said softly in his ear, as sirens sounded in the distance. 

Oscar was by her side in an instant to help her ease him to the ground, but Jim was looking dizzy and confused. His shaking knees gave out and he crashed roughly into the grass, moaning and trembling into the dirt. 

The next few minutes were the longest of Pam’s life. Maybe Jim passed out again, maybe he didn’t. She couldn’t really tell. She tried to talk to him, you know, keep him aware, but he never responded. 

Finally the ambulance turned into the parking lot, and Toby directed it to the place where she and Jim were lying on the grass. The paramedics were soon loading him into the back of the ambulance, Pam crawling in after. 

They had just shut the doors when Jim opened his eyes briefly. Pam had one hand on her husband’s chest, and the other laced around his fingers. Finally, as her adrenaline began to die down, she could no longer hold back her tears, but let them fall slowly and silently. 

He stared at her as though she were the only person in the room, although there were two paramedics alone, working on Jim as they rode. He smiled at her adoringly. 

“Hey, Beesly,” he croaked. 

Pam’s throat was aching with the effort of holding back a sob. She smiled back at him through flowing tears. 

“Actually, it’s Halpert now,” she said. 

Jim’s smile faded and the red tinge of exertion that the walk gave him was replaced by the all too familiar chalkiness that she had seen several times in the past few minutes. 

“I love you, very, very much, Beesly,” he whispered again. 

“Jim,” she whimpered. “It’s going to be okay. I’m right here. I’m not leaving,” she promised. 

But that was the last thing she could say before he fell off to sleep again.

The ride to the hospital took hours...

At least it felt like it did. 

Jim was unconscious the rest of the way. Needles were inserted, various fluids hooked up. Pam chose to look at the floor. She could never really do needles and wished they would just be there already. The hospital was only twenty minutes down the road, but she was pretty sure that they could’ve been there faster if she’d just driven Jim herself...pretty sure. 

When they finally arrived, Jim was transferred to a hospital bed and swept off for testing. Pam was taken to another room to fill out paperwork. Lovely...

She answered the basic questions. Name? Date of birth? Social security number? She filled out at least a dozen insurance papers and signed twice as many permission slips. Was this what it was like for Jim when they had the baby last month?

Pam had no idea how long she had been sitting at that desk when she heard it. A noise, like someone panicking, fighting, wound its way down the hall to her. It continued for several minutes. Silently, she begged it to stop.  She was distressed enough without having to listen to some guy, out of his mind, yelling at a nurse. She cringed. Those poor nurses. 

But eventually the voice started to become familiar. Not because she’d been listening to it for several minutes, but because she knew that voice. 

Comprehension dawned on her, and she stood abruptly, muttering a hasty, “I have to go,” to the receptionist. 

Pam half walked, half jogged down the corridors, following the sound of the voice, but she didn’t have to go very far. The door was already open. To her shock, she saw her husband, her gentle, kind, upset for days when he hit a dog husband, threatening to beat up two very tall, very strong looking male nurses. 

Jim’s faces was flushed and his eyes were wide and crazed. He pushed himself back against the corner of the wall while the nurses tried their best to talk sense into him. 

“What’s going on,” Pam asked from the doorway, apparently startling both nurses. 

“Are you his wife,” one of them asked. 

Pam nodded. She couldn’t take her eyes of Jim. 

“Don’t you worry. Your husband just woke up a little confused because of his fever. Happens all the time,” the nurse assured her. 

Pam was grateful that he was being so kind considering Jim was threatening to kick his ass. He reminded her of Darryl, and made a mental note to tell Darryl about him when she went back to work, which would be soon...right?

“As soon as we get him back in the bed, we can get that temperature down and he’ll be acting more like himself. I promise,” he continued. 

Jim was looking wildly around the room as if unaware that Pam was even there. 

“Mr. Halpert,” the other nurse called, “If you don’t lay back down, we’re gonna have to sedate you, and we don’t want to do that. Okay?”

“Don’t TOUCH ME,” Jim yelled, and then, “GET BACK,” looking more frantically around the room, as if he could see things that they could not. 

In his panic, Jim ripped out one of the IVs in his arm. Blood trickled down to his hand and, just for a second, Pam thought she saw her Jim, the one in his right mind, come back to the surface as he watched it drip. She knew she had to do something, and stepped forward to appeal to that Jim. 

Wrong move. 

It was all blurred after that. She had stepped around the nurses so that she was in front of Jim. “Jim, it’s me,” she’d said and she must’ve reached out towards him or something, but he was still hallucinating. He didn’t recognize her. This wasn’t her Jim. Panicked and confused, he’d pushed her forcefully back against the wall, and Pam cried out as her wrist twisted painfully in her attempt not to fall. 

She vaguely remembered one of the nurses yelling, “We need some help in here,” and a young, blonde nurse’s asistant pulling her out the door, shutting it behind them. As anxiety took over, the world around her seemed distant and echoey. Pam looked down at her wrist, which shook with pain as she cradled it with her other hand.

“Here sweetie,” the nurse that had pulled her out said, “Sit right here. I’ll go get you some ice.”

Pam could only nod. Her mind felt like mush. She could still hear the sounds of Jim fighting the nurses in his room, and her heart twinged. She felt, for the millionth time that day, that she would cry, but was too tired to care anymore. 

A million thoughts plagued her. She needed to call her mom. She’d been so busy that she’d forgotten to even tell her where she was. Had she left Cece enough milk? What if Jim was stuck like this forever? Why did her wrist sting so bad? She didn’t think Jim even had that in him. 

The nurse returned with and ice pack and a cup of water. 

“Just hold onto that for a while, and that swelling should come right down, okay,” she asked. 

Pam nodded. She could feel her lip trembling as tears threatened to spill over again. 

“If you need anything at all just let me know, alright,” the nurse told her, gracefully ignoring Pam’s tears. “As soon as we can we’ll get you right back next to your husband.”

Pam smiled her thanks, and the nurse returned to her seat. She looked down at her wrist again. It was puffy and red. Jim will be mortified when he finds out. She sighed. Jim... 

“He’ll be okay,” she told herself. “He has to be...”

XXX

It was an hour before Pam could go back into the room with Jim, and another two hours before he even began to stir. It was already ten o’clock at night. Her mom had agreed to keep Cece. Now all that was left for Pam to do was wait. 

A doctor had spoken with her a half hour ago. Jim had a terrible case of appendicitis and they were going to eventually operate. But the doctor told her that since Jim’s blood pressure and temperature were both high and since he was so dehydrated by the time they could finally rejoin his IV to the correct tubes, that they preferred to wait until the morning to give him time to stabilize as much as possible. The doctor said that the scans looked pretty standard and that Jim should be able to rest until the morning with no further danger. 

It was a lot to take in. She was so so tired, but her thoughts spun around her mind like a tornado. Should she have done something different? Should she have taken Jim sooner? If she’d come to work that day, she would’ve known something was wrong. They could’ve avoided all of this. 

She was torn away from her anxieties by Jim who suddenly, as if startled from a dream, woke with a gasp. In an attempt to avoid a scene like earlier, Pam went quickly to his side from her spot on the hard hospital chair. 

“Hey. Hey, you’re okay,” she said soothingly. 

Jim looked around the room before finally noticing her. He stared into her eyes without speaking, and for a moment Pam was afraid that he still didn’t know her. 

“Pam,” he said, after several tense seconds, his voice sounding raspy and dry. 

“Thank God,” Pam sighed with relief. She smiled slightly. “Do you know where you’re at?”

Jim looked around again before grunting, “Hospital?”

He tried to sit up, but winced, grabbing his side tenderly, and thought better of it. 

“What happened,” he asked groggily. 

Pam explained to him everything that had happened since the ambulance and all that the doctor had told her. When she told him how crazed he had acted and that he had pushed her, he looked mortified as she knew he would. He reached for her wrist, which was still swollen and had the beginnings of a bruise. After inspecting it he laid his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes tightly. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. 

“Jim, your temperature was over 104. You weren’t you,” she assured him. “I know you’d never do this on purpose. 

He looked back at her hands which were shaking slightly. 

“Have you even eaten today,” he asked. “What about Cece? Is she okay? Does she have enough milk?”

“Hey,” she interrupted, squeezing his hand. “Everything’s fine. I promise. Just rest right now,” she soothed. 

It was just like her husband to be in the hospital, but be worried about if she had a granola bar today. 

Jim winced again, and Pam saw him gingerly hold his side once more. 

“Does it hurt really bad,” she asked with a grimace. 

He shrugged and gave her a tight lipped smile. 

So that was a yes. 

She laced their fingers together, and Jim lifted her hand, brushing his lips against the back of it. 

“I’m okay,” he whispered. 

Pam took it as a promise. 

XXX

“Pam...Pam...”

The voice came from her dream, calling her name through fitful sleep. 

“No,” she thought. “I’m so tired...not yet,” she mumbled. 

“Pam,” the voice called louder, and this time woke her. 

She looked around the dim room in a stupor, groggily searching for the voice, half trying to remember where she’d fallen asleep. The clock under the TV read 3am. She sat up in the plastic chair that she must’ve fallen asleep in and searched for the voice. 

“Pam,” she heard one more time. 

Her mind snapped back to reality. They were still in the hospital. Jim was still having surgery in the morning. It hadn’t been a terrible dream. 

“Jim,” she said quietly. 

She stood from her curled up position and hesitantly made her way towards his bed. Surely he’d called her name, but she didn’t want to risk waking him if she’d just been imagining. 

It was definitely him. 

He was trembling on the hospital bed, his skin the same color as the sheets. When she reached his bed, he didn’t look up at her and she felt her anxiety grow. 

“Jim, what’s going on? Are you okay,” she asked, grabbing onto his wrist. 

He shook his head jerkily and swallowed hard. 

“S-Something’s wrong,” he stuttered. Something’s-.”

He clenched his jaw and shut his eyes tightly, groaning softly. Pam placed her hand gently on his forehead. His skin burned against hers. 

“Your fever’s back,” she whispered nervously. 

Jim was suddenly trying to sit up, desperately pushing himself up on shaking arms. 

“Jim,” Pam interjected, but Jim interrupted her. 

“M’gonna be sick,” he mumbled. 

Pam barely had enough time to step back before Jim was vomiting harshly over the railing of the bed. Pam’s heart clenched in her chest. In the dark it looked like...blood?

She was staring so transfixed at the floor that she didn’t notice Jim doubling over again until was it was too late. He was gagging, spilling his stomach onto the sheets. This time there was no questioning. It was blood...

Jim fell back against the pillows, clutching his stomach and groaning in pain. 

Pam finally found her voice. 

“I’m gonna go get someone,” she said quickly, and ran down the hall to the nurses station, leaving her husband behind in the room. 

Two nurses came back with her immediately, and soon she was again by Jim’s side, oblivious to the ladies working around them. 

He was writhing in the bed, obviously in great pain. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. He seemed to be threatening to float in and out of consciousness again, but every time she thought sleep would take him, he would wake abruptly, coming to only to vomit into a bucket provided by one of the nurses. His stomach was long since empty, but each dry heave was excruciating. 

“I’ve got you,” Pam whispered to her husband after a particularly painful spasm. 

“Am I dying,” Jim gasped between heaves, real fear dripping from his voice. 

Pam’s heart fell from her chest. She could feel her own breath escaping her. 

“Of course not,” she assured him. “You’re just very sick, Jim. They’ll have everything straightened out any minute now. I promise,” she said, voice wavering slightly. 

Pam looked to the nurses for confirmation, but found none. They were hooking up tubes and inserting new IVs as quickly as possible. 

Jim was now gasping every breath, but whether in pain or for air she did not know. Before she knew it though, a doctor was standing beside them. 

“I’m just going to press on your stomach, okay Mr. Halpert,” he asked. 

He had a kind smile and seemed to be in control of the situation. Pam felt comforted by his presence. 

He pressed firmly on Jim’s stomach and he cried out audibly in pain. Pam bit her lip, squeezing his hand comfortingly, but Jim pulled it away from her and wrapped it around his side. His knees were curled up into him and as he tossed about on his side, he pushed his face into the pillow as if trying to suffocate the pain out of himself. 

“Alright,” the doctor said matter of factly, “We need to move to the operating room. Right now.”

The doctor said more words after that, mostly instructions to the nurses, but Pam didn’t hear. Her brain echoed the words “operation” and “emergency” for several long seconds causing her heart to pound under stress. They were supposed to have until the morning. She didn’t want Jim to have to go like this. She wasn’t ready. 

She had barely had time to even think these thoughts before they were already moving him, pushing him through the darkness, the only raucous in a silent hallway. She walked beside them, being careful to stay out of the way of the nurses who were speaking urgently to each other. 

Eventually they came to the final door through which Pam could not follow. They stopped momentarily to allow Pam to say goodbye, but this time Jim grabbed her hand. 

“You know where everything important is at,” he questioned. 

Pam stared at him, debating whether he was just talking out of his head. 

“All the important papers,” Jim continued. “In case something happens.”

“Nothing’s going to happen, Jim. Don’t say th-.”

“Look at me,” he interrupted, and Pam stared into his red eyes. He continued in a choked voice, “You will always be the greatest thing I’ve ever-,” but pain cut him off. He gripped the sheets on the bed, crying out again through gritted teeth. 

“Take him,” she told the nurses with tears streaming from her eyes. “Just take him.”

They pushed Jim through the double doors and Pam watched them roll him down the hallway through the crack as they closed. When they slammed shut she was alone. 

“I love you, too,” she whispered. 

But Jim couldn’t hear it, and she could only pray that he would soon be awake to hear it once more.

Jim awoke in a nightmare. 

It was obnoxiously dark. You know the kind, where your eyes never truly adjust? The silence was the only thing to truly permeate his senses, and in the dark, in the silence he was alone. 

He was definitely lying down, but quickly changed that. Unsure of where he was, he would rather not get taken off guard while on his back. He felt around in the dark for several minutes, deciding he must be in a forest of some sort because he could feel the long tree branches combing at his arms, sometimes entangling him. How did he get here?

His mind seemed foggy, almost like he was drugged, but he wasn’t...or he couldn’t remember being. He was still in the dark, but his skin felt hot to the touch, more like a bad sunburn. His body ached with every step. 

“Did I get beat up,” he thought out loud. 

Jim tripped suddenly over a tree root, and he groaned as something stabbed his arm, probably a stick. Then all hell broke loose. 

Something was attacking him. 

Bats? Birds? He didn’t know, but he could hear their great wings flapping around him. There must be hundreds. He tried to run, but he still couldn’t see. Everything seemed to be reaching out for him, trying to trip him up. He cried out as a winged creature hit him in the face, causing him to fall against a tree. 

Then, before his very eyes, two very tall, very strong looking beings stepped out of the looming night. They were easily ten feet in height and glowed bright blue, their eyes shining a reflective yellow. 

Jim yelled in surprise which only angered the creatures. They advanced on him, teeth bared, snarling some unknown language. Jim turned and ran as fast as he could through the darkness, feeling his way amongst the trees. 

He didn’t know how long he had run, yelling at the creatures to stay away, but eventually he hit a wall of some sort, probably a cave, and could go no further. They continued to snarl at him, but thankfully kept their distance for now. 

Then again, from the darkness, stepped another creature. Much smaller than the other two, she looked most likely female. She glowed bright red, and her eyes burned into him like hot coals. His heart skipped a beat. The other two addressed her in their demonic tongue. Maybe she was their leader? 

The two that had been chasing him slowly advanced again, and for a second Jim knew he would have to fight. He pushed himself further back into the cave wall, and something flew out from behind. The winged creatures were back. 

“Don’t TOUCH ME,” Jim yelled, and then, “GET BACK,” looking frantically around for anything else that might jump out. 

He couldn’t remember ever feeling terror on this level before. He looked down for something to defend himself with, but saw only the stick that had pierced his arm earlier. He yanked it out forcefully, and for just a moment as he watched the blood trickle down his arm, none of this felt real. 

But almost immediately, the girl had stepped around the other two and the nightmare had become all too real again. She growled so loudly and so fiercely that Jim felt the hair rise on his arms and neck. She grabbed at him with her long unearthly fingers and Jim instinctively pushed her back as hard as he could. He had to get away. 

Wrong move. 

It was all blurred after that. The two ginormous creatures rushed him, and in the scuffle, he lost track of their leader. They knocked him down, and dragged him away, off through the woods, and down to a clearing where they tied him flat to something unseen.  

“No,” he yelled, “Let me go!”

They didn’t care, though. He thrashed wildly against the restraints, but they were tight, so tight that he felt he could barely breathe. 

One of the beasts held him down while the other stabbed at his arms. With what, he couldn’t tell. Jim’s heart was pounding so fast that he became suddenly dizzy and very, very tired. 

“I have to stay awake,” he thought. “If I pass out, they’ll kill me.”

It was no use though. Sleep overwhelmed him. The last thing he saw before his eyes closed was the ominous glow of his attackers in the ever present darkness. 

XXX

Jim was startled from his fitful dreaming with a  rattling gasp. He looked frantically around the room, half searching for something terrifying to pop out at him, when a voice at his side made him jump. 

“Hey. Hey, you’re okay,” it said soothingly. 

Jim looked once more around the room before noticing who had spoken. When he finally saw Pam, he stared into her eyes without speaking, unsure of whether he was still dreaming, suspicious to trust anything at the moment. 

“Pam,” he asked, after several long moments. His voice sounded raspy and dry. 

“Thank God,” Pam sighed with relief, and smiled slightly down at him. “Do you know where you’re at?”

Jim looked around again. His mind was still foggy, but he was slowly beginning to piece reality together.

“Hospital,” he grunted. 

He tried to sit up so that he could see her better, but pain cut through this side, and he winced, grabbing it tenderly. 

“What happened,” he asked her groggily. 

Pam explained to him everything that had happened since the ambulance and all that the doctor had told her. When she told him how crazed he had acted and that he had pushed her, he was mortified. He thought about the terrible dream and made a mental note to tell her later when he had more energy. His eyes traveled from her furrowed brow, down her arms to her swollen wrist. He reached for it gently as it already had the beginnings of a bruise and felt intense guilt creep into his chest. Finding he couldn’t look into her eyes, he decided to lay his head back on the pillow. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered through tightly shut eyes. 

“Jim, your temperature was over 104. You weren’t you,” she assured him. “I know you’d never do this on purpose. 

But guilt persisted all the same. 

She was watching him closely, biting her lip the way she always did when she worried. He shifted his gaze from her swollen wrist to her shaking hands. 

“Have you even eaten today,” he asked. Then, as if the flood gates had been opened, a million other questions suddenly plagued him. “What about Cece? Is she okay? Does she have enough milk?”

“Hey,” she interrupted, squeezing his hand. “Everything’s fine. I promise. Just rest right now,” she soothed. 

It was just like his wife to spend all day with him in the hospital and forget to take care of herself. 

Jim sighed and settled back against his pillows. Wincing again, he discreetly held his side as pain rippled across it. 

She must’ve noticed, though, because she asked, “Does it hurt really bad,” with a grimace. 

He stared into her eyes for a moment. She looked so worried and so exhausted. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth, so he shrugged and gave her a tight lipped smile. 

She squinted her eyes just barely, like she always did we she knew he was lying. He’d been caught. 

As she laced their fingers together, Jim lifted her hand to his lips. He knew Pam and he knew what she needed, tangible comfort. She needed to feel that he was going to be alright. 

“I’m okay,” he whispered into the back of her soft hand. 

He hoped she’d take it as a promise. 

XXX

Jim woke to another bout of searing pain. But instead of being confined to his stomach or his side, this time, it came in waves across his entire body. Deep within him a scary question surfaced. 

Am I dying?

He waited for only a moment before calling Pam’s name. She was curled up in a chair across the room, seeming to have finally dozed off, and he didn’t want to wake her unnecessarily. But the pain felt like electricity running through him. 

“Pam...Pam...,” he called softly. 

She shifted slightly in her chair, but continued to sleep. Jim’s body was shaking uncontrollably. Something was terribly wrong. He had to get her attention, someone’s attention. 

“Pam,” he called a little louder, and this time he woke her. 

She looked around the dim room in a stupor, groggily searching for the voice. The clock under the TV read 3am, and he knew she must be tired. But as soon as he thought his body had settled, he was hit again. And again, he thought, “Am I dying?”

“Pam,” he called one more time. 

That did it. She had definitely noticed him this time. Jim took the last few seconds before she saw him to try to compose himself, but to no avail. 

“Jim,” he heard her say quietly, as she stood from her curled up position and slowly made her way towards his bed.

He was trembling on the hospital bed, in a pool of his own sweat. The waves of boiling blood that had been flooding his body suddenly no longer receded. There was no longer a break in the blinding pain. He felt the same terror from earlier rise in him again. When Pam reached his bed, he didn’t look up at her. He didn’t want her to see how afraid he was. 

“Jim, what’s going on? Are you okay,” he heard.

He felt her grab his wrist. He had to tell her the truth. He didn’t know how much longer he could contain the pain. He shook his head jerkily and swallowed hard. 

“S-Something’s wrong,” he stuttered. Something’s-.”

He clenched his jaw and shut his eyes tightly, groaning softly. Talking was too hard. He couldn’t force the words out anymore. He felt Pam’s gentle hand on his forehead. His skin burned against hers. 

“Your fever’s back,” she whispered nervously. 

Jim meant to respond, but was overwhelmed by sudden and intense nausea. He wasn’t going to be able to stop it. He tried to sit up, desperately pushing himself up on shaking arms. 

“Jim,” Pam interjected, but he interrupted her. 

“M’gonna be sick,” he warned hastily, trying to push her away. 

Pam barely had enough time to step back before he was vomiting harshly over the railing of the bed. When Jim pried his eyes open, what he saw made his heart clench in his chest. In the dark it looked like...blood?

Pam was staring so transfixed at the floor that she didn’t notice Jim doubling over again until he was already gagging, spilling his stomach onto the sheets. This time there was no questioning. It was blood...

Jim fell back against the pillows, clutching his stomach and groaning in pain. 

“I’m gonna go get someone,” he barely heard Pam say, and she quickly left the room. 

Two nurses came back with her, and, after what seemed an eternity, she was again by Jim’s side. 

He had lost all control. Eyes blinded, mind numbed, all he could focus on was the fire inside his body. He couldn’t help but writhe in the bed, despite whether his wife was watching or not. Beads of sweat kept dripping down his forehead and stinging his eyes. His mind seemed to be threatening to float in and out of consciousness again, but every time he thought sweet sleep would take him, he would wake abruptly, coming to only to vomit into a bucket provided by one of the nurses. His stomach was long since empty, but each dry heave was excruciating. 

“I’ve got you,” Pam whispered into his ear after a particularly painful spasm. 

He could no longer restrain the terrifying question any longer. 

“Am I dying,” Jim gasped between heaves, real fear dripping from his voice. 

Pam stared bravely back at him, but the color draining from her, gave her away in the end. 

“Of course not,” she assured him. “You’re just very sick, Jim. They’ll have everything straightened out any minute now. I promise,” she said, voice wavering slightly. 

Jim looked to the nurses for confirmation, but found none. They were hooking up tubes and inserting new IVs as quickly as possible. 

The pain was now so intense that it took Jim’s breath away. He was forced to now gasp for air, the sensation of drowning becoming all too real. He felt around desperately for Pam’s hand, begging her silently to fix it, fix him. Thankfully a doctor was soon standing beside them. 

“I’m just going to press on your stomach, okay Mr. Halpert,” Jim heard. 

Jim neither acknowledged nor cared what the doctor was doing to him. All he could focus on was his pounding heart, his next breath, Pam’s hand in his. 

But when the doctor pressed firmly on Jim’s stomach he couldn’t help but cry out audibly in pain. Pam squeezed his hand comfortingly, but Jim pulled his away from her and wrapped it around his side. He didn’t want to hurt her again. He curled his knees up into him, praying for relief as he tossed about on his side, but none came. Maybe if he pushed his face into the pillow hard enough he could suffocate the pain out of himself. 

“Alright,” the doctor said matter of factly, “We need to move to the operating room. Right now.”

The doctor said more words after that, mostly instructions to the nurses, but Jim didn’t hear. His brain echoed the words “operation” and “emergency” for several long seconds, causing his heart to pound harder under the stress. They were supposed to have until the morning. He didn’t want to have to go like this. He wasn’t ready. 

He had barely had time to even think these thoughts before they were already moving him, pushing him through the darkness, the only raucous in a silent hallway. Pam walked beside them, looking more afraid than ever. What would she do if he died? 

He fought unconsciousness with everything he had left which, albeit, wasn’t very much. 

Would she be okay?

His head was swimming. Sleep was so close...no. He had to stay awake. If he passed out, it would kill him. 

Did she know he loved her?

Eventually they came to the final door through which Pam could not follow. They stopped momentarily to allow Pam to say goodbye, but Jim seized his opportunity and grabbed her hand. 

“You know where everything important is at,” he questioned first. 

Pam stared at him like he wasn’t speaking English, and for all he knew, he wasn’t. 

“All the important papers,” he tried again. “In case something happens.”

“Nothing’s going to happen, Jim. Don’t say th-.”

“Look at me,” he interrupted, and her eyes burned like hot coals into him. His heart skipped a beat. He was out of time, out of energy, out of air. He had seconds to tell her everything he’d always thought he’d have years to say. With his last bit of energy, he continued in a choked voice, “You will always be the greatest thing I’ve ever-,” but pain cut him off. He gripped the sheets on the bed, crying out again through gritted teeth. 

“Take him,” he heard Pam say. “Just take him.”

He felt her hand slip from his as they pushed him through the double doors and away from his best friend. He felt the wheels roll down the hallway farther and farther from his wife. He heard the slamming of the doors that, for the first time since they’d met, put true distance between himself and his first love.

He was alone. 

Finally, Jim allowed himself to slip into the unknown, knowing in his heart that she loved him too, but hoping against hope that he would soon be awake to hear it once more.

Jim opened his eyes at great cost. 

They felt so dry that he was pretty sure he could hear himself blinking. Everything else was dim and out of focus. The only thing he could really make out was a light somewhere in his peripheral vision. He tried turning his head, but snapped back quickly. Every single one of his muscles were stiff. Was he hit by a bus somewhere between surgery and his room? 

“Jim?”

The voice came from the direction of the light, but this time he knew better than to look. The voice could come to him. 

A blurry figure appeared above him and Jim tried again to clear his vision, but to no avail. 

“Try to lie still,” it urged. “I’m going to get a nurse.”

Jim did what the voice said, like he had a choice. Moments later he heard footsteps back in the room and two more blurs appeared above him. 

“Mr. Halpert, how we feeling today,” one of them asked. 

Jim shut his eyes tightly, opening them once more to finally clear vision. It was an older woman, one of the nurses that took him to surgery, that had asked him the question. The other voice, the one from the lamp, was...Phyllis? 

Jim mouthed some words, but no sound came out. His throat felt like sandpaper, like someone had taken a razor to his vocal cords. Still, he tried again. 

“What happened,” he choked out. “Where am I?”

The nurse was busying herself with screens and charts. 

“You in the ICU, baby, having some bad complications from your surgery,” she said almost too cheerfully, “But don’t you worry, the doctor will be in to see you when the sun comes up. He’ll explain everything in more detail. Okay?”

Jim swallowed hard, a difficult feat when your mouth has zero moisture. 

“My wife,” Jim asked imploringly of the nurse, then Phyllis. The room was swimming and he was beginning to feel very dizzy. Everything in him begged him to close his eyes, but he wouldn’t, not yet. “Where’s Pam?”

Phyllis opened her mouth, but the kind nurse cut her off. 

“She’s going to be so happy you’re awake, but first I need you to answer a couple questions for me real quick.”

She didn’t wait for Jim’s approval. 

“Do you know who you are,” she asked. 

“Jim Halpert,” he croaked. 

“And where do you live?”

“Scranton.”

“Good. Good,” she said. “Now on a scale of one to ten how’s the pain?”

Jim assessed himself before determining, “A four,” with a small shrug. 

“Alright, Jim,” she said happily. “Everything looks okay. Now you still have a little fever left, but that’s just because of your operation. Be gone by the end of the week.” She gathered her clipboard and headed towards the door. “Like I just said, the doctor will come talk to you in a few hours. It’s only four in the morning right now so, if you can, I’d try to get some rest. Any questions,” she asked. 

This was a lot of information for his wrung out mind to soak in at the moment. 

“Can I have some water,” Jim asked after a long moment of silence. 

“Of course,” she said, rummaging through one of the cabinets behind her. She pulled out a plastic blue cup, filled it with room temperature tap water, and set it on the table beside Jim’s bed. 

“Little sips, okay sweetheart,” she asked. “Let’s take it easy on that stomach right now.”

“Thank you,” Jim mouthed still soundlessly. 

He heard Phyllis repeat the same thing to the nurse before the door opened and shut with a, “I’ll be right down the hall of you need me!”

Jim was soon very aware of the awkward silence in the room. He reached for his water, but his hands felt too weak to lift it. Conscious of the fact that Phyllis was watching though, he desperately attempted to bring the cup to his lips, and shakily sloshed half of it down onto his chest. He swore under his breath, steadying the cup to try again, but this time Phyllis took it from him. 

“Can I help,” she asked. 

Jim stared at her blankly. 

“I always wanted to be a nurse growing up,” she added. Then, “But I guess paper salesman’s fine,” in an undertone. 

He knew that she was being kind, adding that last part so as to not obliterate his pride, but he felt humiliated all the same. She grimaced at him and held the cup out anyway. He paused just briefly. He was, after all, so, so thirsty. 

After only a moment he allowed her to help him drink, holding the cup to his lips and helping him raise his head. It hurt to swallow, both the water and his pride. An all new low for him, maybe, but it could’ve been worse. It could’ve been Dwight. Phyllis, he knew, would never tell a soul. 

After a few tentative sips and a mumbled but very grateful, “thank you,” Jim posed his next question. 

“Phyllis, no offense, but uh, why are you here,” he asked. “Not that I’m not super excited to see you but, where’s Pam?”

“Oh, well,” she said almost sympathetically. “The office has been taking it in shifts to sit with you so that Pam could have a break. She wasn’t doing very well,” she whispered. 

“Doing very well,” he echoed. “Is she alright?”

“Yes, she’s fine now,” Phyllis assured him. “She was just so upset when you came out of surgery with complications and then they couldn’t bring you out of the anesthesia.”

Jim furrowed his brow at her. “How long was I out,” he questioned. 

“Five days,” she answered. “But they said it could’ve been longer or shorter. They didn’t really know. Technically,” she added, “You were in a coma.”

Jim had so many questions, but couldn’t formulate a single one. 

“Well, where’s Pam now,” he asked with great concern. 

“Michael drove her to her mom’s two days ago. Actually it was a good thing we were there. She’d been with you for three days straight and hadn’t left your side,” she told him. “When we came to visit you, she had a terrible migraine, could barely move because of the light and all.”

Jim’s heart twinged at the thought of Pam having one of her terrible migraines and him not being there for her. She’d only had one other since they’d been together, and it was a terrible experience. 

“Dwight thinks it was from dehydration or forgetting to eat or something, but if you ask me she worried herself sick, about you,” she added. 

“But she’s at her mom’s now,” he asked. 

“Yes. We’ve been keeping her updated. I can call her now and tell her you’re awake if you’d like.”

Jim would very much like, but remembered how early it still was. 

“Maybe we should just let her sleep for a while. She can come later,” he said, feeling a stab of sacrificial pain. 

“Yeah you’re probably right,” she agreed. “You should try to get some sleep before she comes. Tomorrow will be busy.”

Jim nodded slowly, with eyelids growing heavier and heavier by the breath. He could tell that sleep was near, threatening to overwhelm him yet again. Before he drifted off though, he had one more question. 

“Hey Phyllis,” he called. “Catching her right before she resumed her seat across the room. 

“Yes?”

“What kind of complications did I have,” he asked. 

“Oh, I really don’t know. All we were told at the office is that you were in intensive care now, and that your surgery didn’t go as well as planned,” she responded. “Pam knows. I’m sure she’ll tell you in the morning.”

“Right,” he mumbled, and closed his eyes. 

Pam only had migraines when she was under too much stress. Was she just having trouble adapting to their newborn at home? Or maybe him being in the hospital or...both?

He’d ask her soon, but for right now sleep was finally overcoming him, and he slipped away into a feverish rest. 

XXX

It must have been hours later that Jim reopened his eyes. It wasn’t quite full morning, but from his bed he could see orange light peeking through the shaded windows. A faint snoring in the corner told him Phyllis was still in the room, but he was still too stiff to really notice or care for that matter. He closed his eyes again. He just needed to sleep it off, finally get some real rest. But his thoughts were soon interrupted by the sound of an opening door. 

Even with the dawn, it was still fairly dark in the room, which could account for why it took Jim so long to recognize her. Or maybe, it was because she didn’t look like herself, not really. 

Pam had tiptoed in wearing a cardigan, a fuzzy one, one he’d bought her for her last birthday. She wasn’t looking at him, obviously assuming him still asleep, and he saw finally what Phyllis had been talking about, the dark circles, the pale skin, and something else...sadness? No...anxiety? Maybe...

It unnerved him more than anything else he’d experienced that week. 

“Pam,” he whispered, and she almost jumped out of her sweater. 

“Jim,” she asked, then, without waiting for an answer, threw herself onto him, immediately crumbling into tears. “I thought you were going to die,” she sobbed into his chest. “I thought you were-. And I would never-. And I just can’t do this without you,” she choked out. “And Cece-.”

“Hey. Hey,” he soothed, because she had sunk down off his chest onto her knees, her face buried in her hands against the sheets. He tried to push himself up a bit in the bed, and inwardly cursed how woozy he still felt. “Pam, look at me. Babe, everything’s fine. Okay? I know these last few days must’ve been hell for you, but look, I’m here now, and I won’t let that happen again.”

Pam’s whole body convulsed with sobs. He’d never seen her this upset ever, not even when her parents divorced. 

“I’m gonna be fi-.”

“They found cancer,” she whimpered, finally lifting her eyes to his. 

Jim closed his mouth and let the news sink in, staring without blinking back into her eyes. He opened his mouth to speak again, but again no words came. It finally dawned in him what he had seen on his wife all along. Not sadness, not pain, not exhaustion or anxiety. Heaviness...a collection of those emotions wrapped in a casing of despair. As he watched the tears stream from her eyes, he felt it too, the realization she must’ve stumbled upon over the days he’d been asleep... She would soon have to support the weight of their new family alone. 

Racing thoughts all came at once, so quickly that he couldn’t decide what needed to be asked now and what could wait. 

“Say something,” she begged. 

How long had they been sitting in silence?

Jim stared at her still, at a loss for words.  “Where,” he finally whispered. 

While she took a moment to compose herself, Jim studied her. She reminded him of the Pam he met years ago, scared of life, unsure of where to go, a receptionist delivering a message. 

That wasn’t his wife. 

“Stomach,” she gulped. “Stage two. They want to do chemo to shrink the tumor and then op- operate to remove it.”

Jim still sat silent in the darkness so she continued, whether to discuss or just to fill the emptiness, he did not know. 

“They found it when they did the MRI on your appendix after surgery,” she continued with a sniff. “I haven’t told anyone, though. Just been saying there were complications.”

Jim nodded, brow furrowed, mind sluggish, like an inchworm, constantly playing catch-up. Pam was shaking her head incessantly. 

“I can’t do it. I can’t,” she said, beginning to cry again. “I can’t do it without you. I can’t be a good mom. I can’t be a good human if part of me is missing, Jim.”

He silently reached over to hold her hand. 

“With the chemo and the surgery you still have a 70 percent chance,” she sniffed. “But all week,” she gasped, “All I could think about was the 30 percent chance...that I don’t grow old with you,” she squeaked. 

Jim lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, again silently. 

“I fell apart,” she choked, as if admitting a sin to him. “I wasn’t there for our daughter. I didn’t call my mother. Michael had to drive me home from the hospital. I failed, Jim,” she admitted through red, bleary eyes. 

Jim’s heart broke to watch her suffering like this, but he still kept silent. One thing he’d learned in their short time married was that sometimes even when it’s about you, it’s not about you. 

After several more long moments in which Pam sobbed into her hands, no longer able to meet his gaze, Jim summoned his strength. He moved, just barely, to the side of his bed, and reached out for her arm, to pull her in beside him. Still crying, she climbed over next to him, and he allowed her to weep, head on his chest, for as long as it took. 

When she finally stilled, her chest no longer heaving with gasps and sobs, he reached up to stroke her hair, eventually moving it out of her eyes. He could feel his shirt clinging to him, whether from fever or Pam’s tears he did not know. In the silence, in the dark, in the fear, he finally spoke. 

“For better or worse...I still want you,” he whispered, and kissed the top of her head. 

Instantly, if only slightly, the shadow of her tensed frame had relaxed. Maybe she’d fallen into much deserved sleep, or maybe she’d taken refuge in his words. Either way, he said no more. Later on she would surely have to carry heavier things, but for now he could still happily bear their burden. 

They continued in silence until their hearts fell in rhythm, and Jim drifted back to sleep to the lullaby of a heart monitor.

Pam opened her eyes at great cost. 

They felt so dry that she was pretty sure she could hear herself blinking. Everything else was dim and out of focus. The only thing she could really make out was the dim bathroom light somewhere in her peripheral vision. She tried turning her head, but snapped back quickly. Every single muscle in her neck and shoulders were stiff. She must’ve fallen asleep last night on the bathroom floor, where the migraine had eventually led her. After five days it was still as strong as ever, having hit her initially somewhere between surgery and Jim’s room in ICU. 

“Pam?”

The voice came from the direction of the light, but this time she knew better than to look. The voice could come to her. 

A blurry figure appeared above her and Pam tried again to clear her vision, but to no avail. 

“Just sit still,” it urged. “I’m going to get you another hot water bottle.”

Pam did what the voice said, like she had a choice. Minutes later she heard footsteps back in the room and the blur appeared above her again. 

“Feeling any better today,” it asked. 

Pam shut her eyes tightly, opening them once more to finally clear vision. It was her mother, in whose house she and Cece were staying, that had asked the question. 

Pam mouthed some words, but no sound came out. Her throat felt like sandpaper, like someone had taken a razor to her vocal cords. Still, she tried again. 

“The pain made me sick in the middle of the night,” she choked out. “I must’ve fallen asleep in the bathroom.”

Her mother was busying herself with adjusting the hot water bottle. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Well I just fed the baby. She’s a bit fussy today,” she said almost too cheerfully, “But don’t you worry, that phase will settle soon. Probably by the time Jim comes home!”

Pam swallowed hard, a difficult feat when your mouth has zero moisture. 

“Mom, you know you don’t have to do all this,” Pam asked imploringly. The room was swimming and she was beginning to feel very dizzy. Everything in her begged her to close her eyes, but she wouldn’t, not yet. “I could’ve stayed home with Cece.”

Her mother purposefully ignored that statement like she had done yesterday and the day before. 

“She’s going to be so happy you’re awake, but first I need you to come lie down in the living room. You’ll feel much better in there.”

She didn’t wait for Pam’s approval. 

“Do you want some breakfast,” she asked, helping her slowly to her feet. 

“No thanks,” Pam croaked, her eyes closed tightly as the blood pounded in her ears. 

“How about some juice,” she insisted. 

Pam stared at her hopelessly. She probably should try eating something. It had, after all, been a few days. 

“Okay, mom,” Pam agreed. 

“Good. Good,” she said. “Now on a scale of one to ten how’s the pain?”

Pam assessed herself while trying to move as little as possible. “A four,” she determined with a small shrug. 

“Alright,” her mother said, comfortingly placing her arm around Pam and guiding her towards the door. “Why don’t we get you settled in on the couch so you can try to get some rest if you can. It is only four in the morning right now,” she informed. 

Pam had been so disoriented since the hospital trip that her body clock didn’t know when she should be asleep or awake. She’d developed the unfortunate habit of sleeping during the day and sitting up at night, usually thinking or staring into space. She should’ve been helping her mother or taking care of the house or, you know, bonding with her own child. 

The guilt of just how unproductive she’d been felt like too much for her wrung out mind to soak in at the moment. 

“Can I have some water,” she asked after her mother finally deposited her onto the couch. Her head felt much better in the darkness. 

“Of course,” her mother said, and Pam heard her soon rummaging through one of the cabinets in the kitchen. She pulled out a plastic blue cup, filled it with room temperature tap water, and set it on the table beside Pam’s head. 

“Little sips, okay darling,” she asked. “Let’s take it easy on that stomach right now.”

“Thank you,” Pam mouthed still soundlessly. 

She then heard her mom leave the room with a, “I’ll be right down the hall of you need me!”

Pam was soon very aware of the silence in the room. She reached for her water, but decided she didn’t really even want it. Conscious of the fact that her mother would be back soon though, she attempted to bring the cup to her lips, and shakily took a minuscule sip. She swore under her breath as the cup sloshed a few drops of water on her chest. Her hands were shaky and weak, and again she felt ashamed. 

Jim had been in surgery for hours and hours when a doctor had finally brought her news that he was going to be okay. Then they brought Jim to a room and tried to pull him out of the anesthesia and couldn’t. That alone seemed like the end of the world at the time. They said he would probably wake up before the end of the week, but what if he didn’t? What if he was comatose for months? What if he never woke up and she had to raise their baby alone?

Alone... 

She had just gotten Jim. Just gotten to the place where she was confident that she’d never have to be alone again. But now... They’d taken Jim for an MRI and had found cancer in his stomach. Cancer. He was perfectly fine the day before, seemingly always healthy. It was too much. She wanted off this roller coaster of emotion. 

Pam stopped herself before she could think any farther. These were the same thoughts, the same stresses that she’d been debating for days now to no avail. There were no answers. There was no future. Only the now, with no Jim near. 

The weight of knowing that she may eventually have to support their family alone crushed her even as she sat in the darkness. 

She was a failure. Even her own body had failed her in the hospital. When her coworkers had shown up, she could barely move without reeling from the stress migraine. It was humiliating having Michael drive her home to her mother like she was a child. 

The pain in her head surged again. She couldn’t stay here anymore. She needed to go back to the hospital, back to her husband. She had to go see Jim. He was the only thing that had ever made sense in her life. 

Pam stood a little too quickly from the couch and, after letting her head settle, felt her way to the kitchen counter to scratch out a note for her mother. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Gone back to the hospital. Will call you later.”

More guilt washed over her, but she pushed it back down. She was supposed to spend the day with Cece, but she was leaving her baby for what seemed the hundredth time that week. 

Pam shook the thought from her head. She didn’t have time to deal with that right now. She had to go. Somewhere. Anywhere else. She grabbed the keys from the hook and shut the door silently behind her. 

XXX

It took Pam almost two hours to eventually arrive at the hospital. She drove the backroads of the town, procrastinating all the way, the walk into the ICU. Meanwhile, her guilty thoughts grew, shaming her with every mile. Finally, when the orange light on the horizon told her that morning had come, she gathered her courage and pulled into the hospital parking lot. 

Her legs felt like weights as she pulled them from the car and forced them to walk, walk, walk to the elevator. The ding that signaled she had arrived on her floor seemed unnaturally loud in the still, dim hallway. Did the hospital know how she was feeling? Did it know that her world was crumbling? 

She shuffled to the door, and paused. She didn’t know if she could even bring herself to look at him, unconscious in that bulky bed, wires everywhere. That wasn’t her husband. 

She inwardly decided that she wouldn’t look. She’d walk in and go straight to a chair, maybe turn the tv on to distract her from the noise in her head. She persuaded her hand to grab the door handle. Her muscles felt like lead. Then slowly, she pushed open the door. 

Even with the dawn, it was still fairly dark in the room, which was good because that way she couldn’t see Jim even if she wanted to. She could, however, see Phyllis, sleeping soundly in the chair that Pam was going to take. She hoped that Phyllis wouldn’t wake up for a while. She didn’t feel like talking. She didn’t feel like herself, not really. 

She tiptoed further in, pulling at her cardigan as the cold air whooshed around her. She had brought the fuzzy one that Jim had bought her for her last birthday. It still smelled like him from being in his car so long. That was probably why she liked it so much. 

Then, out of the heavy silence, something said her name. 

She almost came out of her sweater. 

It took her just a moment to recognize the voice, and at once all the feelings, all the insecurities, all the guilt and shame that she had been harboring the past week, came spilling out of her like vomit. 

“Jim,” she breathed, then, without waiting for an answer, threw herself onto him, immediately crumbling into tears. “I thought you were going to die,” she sobbed into his chest. “I thought you were-. And I would never-. And I just can’t do this without you,” she choked out. “And Cece-.”

“Hey. Hey,” he soothed as she sunk down off his chest onto her knees, her face buried in her hands against the sheets. She couldn’t stand anymore. The circumstances of the past week had finally come to crush her. “Pam, look at me,” she heard. “Babe, everything’s fine. Okay? I know these last few days must’ve been hell for you, but look, I’m here now, and I won’t let that happen again.”

He didn’t know. 

He didn’t know their lives were about to change. He didn’t know his death sentence. He didn’t know what had been threatening to overwhelm their marriage since even before the hospital. She had to tell him. She had to finally say the dreaded news that had been consuming her for days. 

Her whole body was convulsing with sobs, but she no longer cared. Now was the moment. 

“I’m gonna be fi-.”

“They found cancer,” she blurted out, desperately searching his eyes for a reaction. 

A whole week and that was the best she could come up with?

Jim closed his mouth as the news took root, staring without blinking back into her eyes. He opened his mouth to speak again, but again no words came. 

The heaviness had finally become too much for her to bear as she watched him come to the realization that he might not be able to carry their family anymore. She couldn’t think about that happening. She couldn’t bear to watch his undoing. Racing thoughts all came at once, so quickly that she couldn’t decide what needed to be asked now and what could wait. 

“Say something,” she begged. 

Jim stared at her still, and her heart pounded in suspense.  “Where,” he finally whispered. 

Pam desperately tried to compose herself as a weeks worth of suppressed emotions came pouring out of her mouth. 

“Stomach,” she gulped. “Stage two. They want to do chemo to shrink the tumor and then op- operate to remove it,” she stammered. 

Jim still sat silent in the darkness so she continued, whether to discuss or just to fill the emptiness, she did not know. 

“They found it when they did the MRI on your appendix after surgery,” she continued with a sniff. “I haven’t told anyone, though. Just been saying there were complications.”

Jim nodded, brow furrowed. What was he thinking? Her mind felt sluggish, like an inchworm, constantly playing catch-up, but her heart hammered inside her. She shook her head according to its beat. 

“I can’t do it. I can’t,” she said, beginning to cry again. “I can’t do it without you. I can’t be a good mom. I can’t be a good human if part of me is missing, Jim.”

Anxiety had begun to take control, and she barely noticed as Jim silently reached over to hold her shaking hand. She shouldn’t be saying any of this to him. He had enough to deal with without listening to her selfish fears. If anything she should be listening to him say these things right now. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself now that she had opened her mouth. She had to explain herself to him or the guilt would eat her alive. 

“With the chemo and the surgery you still have a 70 percent chance,” she sniffed. “But all week,” she gasped, “All I could think about was the 30 percent chance...that I don’t grow old with you,” she squeaked. 

Pam could feel her face growing red, although she doubted he could even see her. She felt humiliated at how she had acted this week, so ashamed that this is how she, a grown woman, had reacted to the news. But again she couldn’t stop herself from spilling her words. She needed to tell him everything. Jim, so far, seemed unphased, only lifting her hand and kissing her fingers, again silently. 

“I fell apart,” she choked, finally admitting her sin to him. “I wasn’t there for our daughter. I didn’t call my mother. Michael had to drive me home from the hospital. I failed, Jim,” she confessed through red, bleary eyes. 

Her heart broke to think of how he must see her now. What would he think of her failings? He was already a great man. But one thing she’d learned in their short time married was that it’s never about you. Did he think she being selfish? Did he think she making his life changing news about her? 

After several more long minutes in which Pam continued to sob into her hands, no longer able to meet his gaze, Jim moved, just barely, to the side of his bed, and reached out for her arm. She looked up as he began to pull her in beside him, and still crying, she climbed over next to him, allowing herself to weep, head on his chest, for as long as it took. 

When she finally stilled, her chest no longer heaving with gasps and sobs, he reached up to stroke her hair, eventually moving it out of her eyes. She could feel his shirt clinging to him, whether from fever or her tears she did not know. In the silence, in the dark, in the fear, she heard Jim finally speak.  

“For better or worse...I still want you,” he whispered, and kissed the top of her head. 

Instantly, relief flooded her soul and her tensed muscles finally relaxed for the first time in several days. She felt the comfort of his words wash over her, her heart becoming still in the knowledge that he was unafraid of her fear. Selfish or not, he still chooses her. Even as she inhaled, then exhaled, she felt the pain in her head begin to recede. Above her, Jim no longer moved. Maybe he’d fallen into much deserved sleep, or maybe he’d taken refuge in her touch as she had in his words. Either way, she said no more. Later on she would surely have to carry heavier things, but for now they could still happily bear their burden together. 

And together, they continued in silence until their hearts fell in rhythm, and Pam drifted back to sleep to the lullaby of a heart monitor.

People always talk about the stereotypical side effects of chemotherapy such as nausea or hair loss, but no one ever really talks about the scarier side effects like high fevers, dizziness, or especially...the nightmares. 

Jim had these often during the nights after treatment. 

He would wake up in a feverish panic, gasping for air, flailing as he struggled to escape his sheet prison. Often times he wouldn’t remember where he was, or would simply think he was still in the terrible dream. 

“Hey, just breathe,” she would guide him through the panic attack. “You’re okay.”

Then she would pull him close, where his head could rest on her chest. 

“Just focus on my heartbeat. I’m not going anywhere,” she would whisper to him until the trembling finally stopped and he drifted back off into exhaustion once again. 

He very rarely remembered these moments in the morning, but Pam doubted that she would ever unsee them, could ever unfeel them. 

She had a calendar on the fridge where she marked off the days until Jim’s operation. Whether because she was looking forward to it or dreading it, she didn’t know. She hadn’t had much time to process anything lately. They had been going to the hospital every other day for the past three weeks for treatments. Three weeks on, one week off for three months. That was the deal the doctor gave them. 

She could do anything for three months. Right?

Michael had been letting Jim come in when he could so that he didn’t lose any of his clients. It was very generous, she knew, but, she was concerned about how long Jim could keep it up. He’d been taking the treatment like a champ, for sure, but this was just the first month. The doctor was very clear that things were going to get worse before they got better.  Chemo took its toll on everyone differently, but to imagine what it would eventually do to her husband, her Jim...

She’d always heard that it was in the storm that people realized their true character. 

XXX

Pam supposed it was the rain that woke her so early. Or maybe, it was that queasy feeling she had deep down in her gut. 

It was dark and grey outside the splattered window, yet, still lighter than she thought it should’ve been at that time of morning. Pam leaned over to grab her alarm clock. This may be the weekend, but she had still set her alarm for an early wake up call. She had to do everything on her list that she’d been putting off since Jim’s diagnosis. It was the beginning of his first week off of chemo. Round one, complete. Two more to go. But now, Pam had to play catch up on an entire month. 

She squinted at the luminescent numbers in the darkness. They flashed back up at her, and she swore under her breath. The storm must’ve knocked out the power. What time was it?

She tapped her phone and it lit up a blurry nine o’clock. Pam groaned inwardly...already behind. She rolled over to wake Jim, surprised that the baby had not yet woken them both, but Jim wasn’t there. She furrowed her brow and stared around the room. He was nowhere to be found. 

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and forced herself to sit up. Her whole body felt achy and stiff. Again, she groaned inwardly. 

“Not today,” she thought. 

Her head felt so stuffed that she was sure it might explode. She tried to swallow, but shuddered as she felt her sinuses draining into her throat. She glanced longingly back down at her pillow. It looked even more inviting now than it did a few moments ago. 

No. No, she had to power through. She didn’t have time to be sick on her one off day. The house was a mess. The baby needed to be fed. She had to make sure Jim was okay. 

She pushed herself up and stumbled to the bathroom where she caught site of herself in the mirror. 

“Not great,” she thought as she blew her nose in a tissue. 

She didn’t want Jim to see her like this. He’d make a big deal, and it’s not like a little cold was anything compared to how sick he’d been the past three weeks. 

She closed her eyes for just a moment to gather her thoughts, and felt she could easily go back to sleep right that second, standing on her feet. She was absolutely exhausted from going non stop for the past month, but that didn’t really matter in light of everything. Worrying about her shouldn’t even cross Jim’s mind. She was fine. Really. 

Pam looked at herself in the mirror again. He probably wouldn’t notice, right?

She made her way into the kitchen and found Jim feeding the baby at the table. He looked better than he had in a while, meeting her with a smile when he finally looked up. 

“Say, ‘Hey, Mama,’” he cooed at the baby as Pam came near. 

Pam smiled down at the wide eyes staring into her, surprised they could even see her over a bottle almost as big as she was. 

“I don’t think she’ll be saying anything for a while,” Pam said back. 

Jim continued speaking in the baby voice they’d both adopted recently. “I don’t know. She’s a Halpert. They’re geniuses,” he said softly, then turned to look at his wife. 

Pam was standing further back than she usually would in hopes that Jim wouldn’t look too closely at her. But for a second when their eyes met, she knew he was already suspicious. She quickly turned away, though, and went about their regular routine, gathering utensils to make breakfast. 

She was fine. It was just a cold. 

When the baby was fed and laid down in her carrier, Jim joined her in the kitchen to help with breakfast. Again, she did her best to stay on opposite sides of the counter from him so as to not get close enough for him to realize that she didn’t feel well. But with every passing minute she felt more and more drained and the urge to just sit down grew stronger. 

Eventually, though, she could no longer avoid him. She could feel her muscles tense as he got closer and closer while they made breakfast. This was routine, and she knew it was only a matter of time before he leaned in for a kiss. She stared avidly at the counter as they both skirted the stovetop. Maybe that would deter him. But if anything, her newly acquired reservations seemed to tip him off. Finally, as she dished scrambled eggs onto a plate, he pulled her in and kissed her forehead, before she even knew what was happening. 

She pulled away as quickly as she dared, offering him a small smile of appreciation. Maybe he wouldn’t notice anything?

He noticed. 

“Hey, wait come back,” he said, pulling her hand gently back towards him. 

She came back hesitantly, still refusing eye contact in a nonchalant manor. But she could feel the weight of his gaze, examining her. 

“Are you feeling okay,” he asked. “You feel really warm,” he added, brow furrowed. 

Pam nodded and smiled assuringly, still not meeting Jim’s eyes. He reached his hand towards her forehead, but she dodged that, too, and spun out of his arms. 

“Pam,” he said, sounding almost hurt. 

“I’m fine, really,” she said. Then, with one last unconvinced look from Jim, “I’m just a little under the weather.”

Her body chose this inconvenient moment to send a chill down her spine. She shivered against her will. Jim said nothing, although his tight lipped frown told her that he noticed. 

“Maybe you should lie down,” he persuaded, reaching out for her hand again. 

Maybe it was the fever, maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was just the stress of the past month, who knows, but at that moment, something ugly inside of Pam began to stir. 

“I said I’m fine,” she snapped, slamming her hands down on the counter. “I’m FINE.”

Jim watched her quietly, his full attention uncomfortably on her. Behind him, the baby began to cry, yet he paid no attention. 

“What’s really going on,” he asked after several seconds of thick silence. 

Pam was suddenly aware of how much distance was between them as she stood just out of his reach. She stared silently back at him. 

“What’s wrong,” he asked again. 

He had that look in his eyes that told her it wasn’t really a question, but a demand. He wore it very few times in their relationship, but when he did, she knew there was nothing she could do to escape. It was best to surrender early. 

“I should be taking care of you,” she blurted out as tears began to fall from her face. 

God, she was so sick of crying. 

Jim shook his head, looking confused. 

“What are you talking about. Pam, you’ve literally been doing everything for me, for us,” he said, gesturing towards the crying baby. 

Pam could her the rain begin to fall hard on the roof, creating a noise that sounded much like the rumbling now in her ears. 

“Pam,” Jim asked, but she could only stare at him. 

Something was rising within her that she couldn’t place her finger on, a part of her that she did not yet recognize. Maybe she’d never even seen it. Lightning struck in the distance, and as she stared into Jim’s concerned eyes, that unrecognizable monster made its appearance. 

Before she even realized what she was doing, she had taken the bowls, now full of sad, wet eggs, and thrown them against the wall. The shattering noise seemed to shake the room much like the impending thunder. 

But it almost felt good. 

Numb to the storm, numb to the screaming baby, numb to her husband trying desperately to calm her, Pam surrendered everything she could get her hands on to the monster inside. 

She screamed and gasped and flailed until the kitchen lay in ruins. The silverware was scattered about the kitchen, the bowls, in pieces, the toaster, fallen sideways and dented on the floor. 

Pam felt rage and fear and the overwhelming feeling that she could pull her hair out or scratch her own skin. Only when nothing else in her reach would budge did the numbness lift and the pain settle in. She saw, for the first time, her shaking hands, cut open and dripping small drops of blood onto the tile. She heard, for the first time, her wailing child, her begging husband. She felt, for the first time, the raw, unfiltered emotion that had been threatening to surface for the past three weeks. 

Exhausted, dizzy, and suddenly, overwhelmingly ashamed, she covered her face and sunk down slowly against the cabinets, weeping into her hands. Surely Jim would hate her now. She was weak. She was selfish. She was-

“Hey, hey...”

She felt Jim crash down beside her, pulling her violently close, deep into his chest. 

“Just breathe,” he whispered. “You’re okay.”

He rocked her back and forth, holding her tightly in his arms. 

“Just focus on my heartbeat. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered to her over and over again until the trembling finally stopped and she drifted off into exhaustion once again, the rain beating hard against the window. 

Because people always talk about the stereotypical side effects of chemotherapy such as nausea or hair loss, but no one ever really talks about the scarier side effects like high fevers, dizziness, or especially...the nightmares. 

But Pam had always heard that it was in the storm that people realized their true character.

People always talk about the stereotypical side effects of chemotherapy such as nausea or hair loss, but no one ever really talks about the scarier side effects like high fevers, dizziness, or especially...the nightmares. 

Jim had these often during the nights after treatment. 

He would wake up in a feverish panic, gasping for air, flailing as he struggled to escape his sheet prison. Often times he wouldn’t remember where he was, or would simply think he was still in the terrible dream. 

“Hey, just breathe,” he would always hear, even through the panic attack. “You’re okay.”

Then someone would pull him close, where his head could rest on their chest. 

“Just focus on my heartbeat. I’m not going anywhere,” the voice would whisper to him until the trembling finally stopped and he drifted back off into exhaustion once again. 

He very rarely spoke of these moments in the morning, but doubted that he would ever unsee them, could ever unfeel them. 

Pam, on the other hand, was handling things so much better than he ever could’ve imagined. She was so much stronger than him, making sure he was okay, taking care of the baby. She cooked. She cleaned. She worked, and never once complained, a total pro. But still, he was concerned for her. 

She had a calendar on the fridge where she marked off the days until his operation. But whether she was looking forward to it or dreading it, he didn’t know. Honestly, he tried not to even look at it anymore. He didn’t need another reminder of how much farther he still had to go. He’d been either at home or at the hospital so much lately that there was no more desire to be alone with his thoughts. He couldn’t think about it anymore. Three weeks on, one week off for three months. That was the deal the doctor gave them. Then judgment day would come. 

But he could do anything for three months. Right?

Michael had been letting him come in when he could so that he didn’t lose any of his clients. It was very generous, he knew, but, he was concerned about how long he could keep it up. Treatment had already kicked his butt and this was only the first month. The doctor was very clear that things were going to get worse before they got better.  Chemo took its toll on everyone differently, but to imagine what it would eventually do to him. He didn’t want Pam to see him like that....

He’d always heard that it was in the storm that people realized their true character. 

XXX

Jim supposed it was the rain that woke him so early. Or maybe, probably, it was his hungry child. 

It was dark and grey outside the splattered window, yet, still lighter than he thought it should’ve been at that time of morning. Jim leaned over to look at Pam’s alarm clock. It was the weekend, and he hoped that she hadn’t actually set the alarm. She had been working so hard since Jim’s diagnosis. But today was the beginning of his first week off of chemo. Round one, complete. Two more to go. Today of all days, she deserved to sleep in.

He squinted at the luminescent numbers in the darkness. They flashed back up at him, and he swore under his breath. The storm must’ve knocked out the power. What time was it?

He tapped his phone and it lit up a blurry seven o’clock. He groaned inwardly...no wonder Cece was hungry.

He rolled over carefully, so as to not wake his sleeping wife, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and forced himself to sit up. His whole body felt achy and stiff. Again, he groaned inwardly. 

“Not today,” he thought. 

He’d had a fever for weeks now. It would come and go in spurts in the aftermath of the treatments. He’d pretty much gotten used to it, but today he glanced longingly back down at his pillow. It looked even more inviting now than it did a few moments ago. 

No. No, he had to power through. He didn’t have time to be sick on Pam’s one off day. The house was a mess. The baby needed to be fed. How much could he get done before she woke up?

He pushed himself up and stumbled to the bathroom where he caught site of himself in the mirror. 

“Not great,” he thought as he ran his fingers through his hair. He looked pale and sickly. It disgusted him. 

He didn’t want Pam to see him like this. She’d make a big deal, but it’s not like he could hide from how sick he’d been the past three weeks. 

He closed his eyes for just a moment to gather his thoughts, and felt he could easily go back to sleep right that second, standing on his feet. He was absolutely exhausted from going non stop for the past month, but that didn’t really matter in light of everything. Worrying about him shouldn’t even cross Pam’s mind today. He was fine. Really. 

Jim looked at himself in the mirror again. She probably wouldn’t notice, right?

For the next few hours Jim cleaned house with Cece by his side. They did laundry. They picked up toys, finally finishing with a detailed scrubbing of the kitchen, which, he couldn’t lie, had been suffering these past few weeks. By the time Cece was ready for another bottle, the counters were spotless and the stove was a completely new shade of white. 

Proud of their work, he and Cece sat down at the table for some daddy daughter feeding time, and waited for Pam to wake up. 

He had been so focused on Cece that he almost didn’t hear his wife enter the room. But when he finally looked up, he couldn’t help but smile. 

“Say, ‘Hey, Mama,’” he cooed at the baby. 

Jim saw wide eyes staring over his shoulder. What was going on in that baby brain?

“I don’t think she’ll be saying anything for a while,” he heard Pam say back. 

Jim continued speaking in the baby voice they’d both adopted recently. “I don’t know. She’s a Halpert. They’re geniuses,” he said softly, then turned to look at his wife. 

Pam was standing further back than she usually would which made him automatically suspicious. She quickly turned away, though, and went about their regular routine, and Jim shrugged it off as nothing. 

She was fine. It was just a fluke. 

When the baby was fed and laid down in her carrier, Jim joined Pam in the kitchen to help with breakfast. He tried to nonchalantly keep her on the opposite side of the counter from him, not because he didn’t want to be close to her, but because with every passing minute he felt more and more drained and the urge to just sit down grew stronger. He hoped she wouldn’t notice. 

Eventually, though, he could no longer avoid her. This was routine, and he knew it was only a matter of time before she expected a kiss. He leaned in once, but she turned away from him with a newfound fascination for the kitchen counter. Maybe she noticed that he had scrubbed them. Finally, as she dished scrambled eggs onto a plate, he pulled her in and kissed her forehead. It burned against his lips. 

She pulled away from him almost immediately, offering him only a small, fake smile. Did she think he wouldn’t notice?

Because he noticed. 

“Hey, wait come back,” he said, pulling her hand gently back towards him. 

She came back hesitantly, still refusing eye contact in a would-be casual manor. But she was close enough now for him to examine her. 

“Are you feeling okay,” he asked her. “You feel really warm,” he added, brow furrowed. 

Pam nodded and smiled assuringly, still not meeting his eyes. He reached his hand towards her forehead, but she dodged that, too, and spun out of his arms. 

It stung. 

She’d never kept anything from him in their entire relationship. For a second, he wondered if it was because she thought he was weak. 

“Pam,” he said, trying to hide his hurt. 

“I’m fine, really,” she said unconvincingly. “I’m just a little under the weather.”

Her body shivered suddenly and she look utterly betrayed. Jim said nothing, but frowned his response at her. 

“Maybe you should lie down,” he persuaded, reaching out for her hand again, praying she wouldn’t reject him a second time. 

Maybe it was the fever, maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was just the stress of the past month, who knows, but at that moment, something about his wife shifted suddenly. He saw it in her eyes. 

“I said I’m fine,” she snapped at him, slamming her hands down on the counter. “I’m FINE.”

Jim watched her quietly, his full attention uncomfortably on her. Behind him, the baby began to cry, yet he paid no attention, realizing for the first time that some deeper thing was actually happening. 

“What’s really going on,” he asked after several seconds of thick silence. 

Jim was suddenly aware of his desire to be close to her as she stood just out of his reach. She stared coldly back at him. 

“What’s wrong,” he pleaded, getting desperate. 

She had that look in her eyes that told him she was about to break. She wore it very few times in their relationship, but when she did, there was nothing she could do to escape. She needed to talk this out. 

“I should be taking care of you,” she blurted out as tears began to fall from her face. 

Realization dawned on him finally. 

“I see,” he started to say, but became suddenly dizzy. He reached out to steady himself on the counter top and settled for just shaking his head at her. 

God, he was so sick of being sick. 

“What are you talking about,” he said to cover his silence. “Pam, you’ve literally been doing everything for me, for us,” he said, gesturing towards the crying baby. 

Jim could hear the rain begin to fall hard on the roof, creating a noise that sounded much like the rumbling now in his ears. He absolutely hated that she felt like this, hated that he was doing this to her. 

“Pam,” he breathed, but she only stared at him. 

Something was rising between them that he couldn’t place his finger on, a part of Pam that he did not yet recognize. Maybe he’d never even seen it. Lightning struck in the distance, and as he stared into now blank eyes, the same eyes she’d given their daughter, something that had bubbled just below the surface these past three weeks finally boiled over. 

Before he even realized what what was happening, Pam had taken the bowls, now full of her famous Beesly scrambled eggs, and thrown them against the wall. The shattering noise seemed to shake the room much like the impending thunder. 

The shock sent Jim backwards, almost falling as his tripped over a stool leg. 

Numb to the storm, numb to the screaming baby, numb to his wife trying desperately to just be okay, Jim watched helplessly as his marriage was mocked by the monster inside. 

He could only observe as Pam screamed and gasped and flailed until the kitchen lay in ruins. The silverware was scattered about aimlessly, the bowls, in pieces, the toaster, fallen sideways and dented on the floor. 

He felt in himself Pam’s rage and fear and the overwhelming concern that she might pull her hair out or scratch her own skin. Only when nothing else in her reach would budge did he see the Pam he’d always loved finally resurface. 

“No...,” he thought to himself. “That was wrong.” Because he’d loved this one, too, loved her all along. 

As he watched her, he saw, for the first time, her exhausted eyes, worn from the weight of being a caretaker. He heard, for the first time, her cry for help, her plea, despite herself, for his support. He felt, for the first time, the raw, unfiltered emotion that partnered with the possibly of being the only spouse to survive. 

In the silence, in the noise, she covered her face and sunk down slowly against the cabinets, weeping into her hands. Surely Pam would hate him now. He was weak. He was selfish. He had done this to her. He was the monster. 

But he would not allow even himself to take what he and Pam had. He decided to close the gap. 

“Hey, hey...,” he soothed, crashing forcefully down beside his wife, pulling her violently close, deep into his chest, where no more distance could be felt. 

“Just breathe,” he whispered. “You’re okay.”

He rocked her back and forth, holding her tightly in his arms, guiding her through the panic. 

“Just focus on my heartbeat. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered to her over and over again until the trembling finally stopped and she drifted off into exhaustion once again, the rain beating hard against the window. 

Because people always talk about the stereotypical side effects of chemotherapy such as nausea or hair loss, but no one ever really talks about the scarier side effects like high fevers, dizziness, or especially...the nightmares. 

But Jim had always heard that it was in the storm that people realized their true character.

“I. AM. NOT. BROKEN. PAM,” Jim yelled from across the hotel room. 

“I didn’t say that you were! But-.”

“No. NO,” Jim said, and turned his back on her, using the window as an excuse to stop listening. 

“Jim, please,” he heard and a hand pulled him around to face her. Her lip trembled slightly, but her jaw was set. “Please don’t push me away.”

X THIRTY MINUTES EARLIER X

The Halperts needed a break from this whole nightmarish experience. 

Chemo, round two, had been even worse than round one, as the doctor’s warned them that it would be. So many restless nights, so many exhausting days, so many unspoken, terrifying questions passing between them, Jim and Pam needed a weekend to recoup...just the two of them. 

That’s why, when one morning over breakfast Pam suggested at random that they take a weekend trip back to Niagara Falls, Jim agreed in a heartbeat. 

After all, they needed this. 

On Friday morning, they had dropped Cece off at Grandma’s and spent two fantastic days together, laughing and dancing and enjoying each other in ways that they hadn’t been able to since the diagnosis. It was a different kind of much needed medicine, one they should’ve taken sooner. 

Everything was going so well that for a moment Jim almost forgot that an illness was even looming over them to begin with. 

Almost. 

Looking back, he supposed he’d just pushed himself too hard. He’d just completed week six of chemotherapy. He was weak. He was tired. Maybe he hadn’t eaten that morning. Anything could’ve contributed to what happened. Not that it wasn’t worth it, to stay up late playing cards with his wife or to relive the boat ride where they sealed their marriage, to visit the restaurants they’d loved or to walk trails, just talking, for hours, but maybe he’d been irresponsible. He didn’t know.

All he knew was that on the very last day of their stay, as he and Pam strolled through a little park about a mile from their hotel, talking and laughing in the chilly morning air, his exploits from the previous two days came calling to haunt him. 

It all happened suddenly, as unusual things normally do. He was feeling fine, almost normal, when he became spontaneously exhausted, the kind where his legs felt like they were filled with lead. He pushed it off, though, and kept walking, not wishing to ruin Pam’s morning. She looked so happy, talking about the flowers and the trees and the future. 

Then, just as the sun itself fell behind clouds, casting the couple into shade, shadowy dots popped into Jim’s line of vision. He stopped walking instinctively and rubbed his eyes, but it only made things worse. 

Pam, lost in conversation, had kept walking several feet before noticing his absence. He closed his eyes again, dreading the moment she turned around. 

“Hey,” he heard finally, very close to his face. 

She still had the remnant of a smile left in her eyes when he looked into them, concentrating through spotty vision to focus. 

Her face fell when she looked at him. She knew something was wrong. 

“Jim,” she said softly, bending to look into his eyes. “Are you okay?” 

Her frown confirmed that she already knew the answer. 

“I don’t know,” he breathed, swaying slightly. “I think I just need to sit for a second.”

“Okay,” she whispered, and he felt her guide him to a park bench. He collapsed roughly onto it, placing his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. 

He could feel Pam’s stare along with other passersby as she sat beside him with a hand on his back.

So humiliating. 

“What do I need to do,” she asked calmly after a moment. 

“Nothing. I’m okay,” he grunted. He desperately wanted to keep this as low key as possible. No need to make a scene. 

But just then, his head gave a dizzying lurch and the world began to spin around him. Dreading the worst, he pushed himself up and stumbled to the nearest tree where he doubled over and vomited into the grass. 

He soon felt Pam rubbing soft circles on his back as he struggled to pull himself together, mortified that this was actually happening...in public. 

Behind him he heard a stranger’s voice, asking Pam if he was okay, and if they needed a ride back to their hotel. 

He could feel the blood rising in his face as he stood with his back turned in an effort to shield himself from any onlookers. 

“Say no. Please, say no,” he thought, but to much dismay, he heard Pam gratefully accept. 

Great. Now he would have to face them. The walk of shame...

“Jim,” he heard beside him. “That family is going to give us a ride back to the hotel so you don’t have to walk. They’re really nice.”

A fresh wave of embarrassment swept over him and he felt a surge of resentment towards Pam, but knowing his eyes would betray his anger, he continued to stare at the ground. 

“I don’t need any help,” he choked, suppressing a gag as the spinning continued. 

“There’s no reason to be embarrassed. I told them you’ve been taking chemo,” she added. 

A sickening swoop of anger churned alongside the nausea in his stomach. 

“You told them,” he asked accusingly, turning for the first time to look at her. 

She searched his face with a confused expression, but he offered her back only a cold stare. 

“I don’t want their pity,” he snapped at her. 

“It’s not pity. They’re just-.”

“I don’t need their help and I don’t need yours. Okay,” he spat, his vision finally clearing as he turned to face his humiliation alone. 

XXX

Jim accepted the strangers’ help, making small talk with them on the way back to the hotel, all the while conscious of Pam’s silence beside him. He thanked them when they dropped them off and after a casual wave goodbye, walked beside his wife in silence to the elevator and again to the room. 

When the the door closed behind him, Pam went immediately into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. He stared after her for a moment, aware that he had probably cut her deeply. He sighed, running a hand over his face. 

What was he supposed to do? 

It was several long minutes before Pam reappeared again, pointedly avoiding him, and sitting across the room. 

“Hey,” he said softly. 

She ignored him. 

“Pam,” he tried again. 

She turned on the TV. 

“Look, I’m sorry.”

She turned the volume up. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” he yelled over the news. 

That awoke the beast. 

She switched the TV off and pushed herself up to face him. Fury flashed in her eyes, and Jim knew he’d gone one step too far. 

“I’M being ridiculous,” she hissed. “Me??”

“Yes,” Jim said back, a little less confidently, but too far in to back out now. “You. I just want to talk this out so I can help us get back to having fun.”

“Oh so NOW you want my help,” she smiled fakely. “I thought you didn’t need anyone’s help.”

Jim closed his eyes and breathed deeply, feeling his blood pressure rise. 

“I thought you could do this all by yourself,” she mocked. “You don’t need me here to take care of you!”

All the humiliation and shame that Jim had been feeling finally exploded in a shower of angry sparks. 

“I. AM. NOT. BROKEN. PAM,” Jim yelled from across the hotel room. 

“I didn’t say that you were! But-.”

“No. NO,” Jim said, and turned his back on her, using the window as an excuse to stop listening. 

“Jim, please,” he heard and a hand pulled him around to face her. Her lip trembled slightly, but her jaw was set. “Please don’t push me away.”

They spent the next few moments in stoney silence, staring each other down in an emotional standoff. Pam honestly looked more worried than angry, and Jim felt guilt soften his temper. The circumstances had been against her for months. She deserved better than for him to fight her too. 

She just wouldn’t stop staring into his eyes, and Jim got the uncomfortable feeling that she was reading his thoughts, searching him for something hidden, for the real problem. Then, without looking away, she reached out for his clenched, jittery hands. 

She’d found what she was looking for. 

“Do you doubt that I love you,” she asked softly, as one would when comforting a child. 

Jim stared down at his feet, knowing he’d been caught. No part of him felt bold enough to face her right now. He knew that Pam knew him fully, but vulnerability had never really been his strong suit. 

He sighed, smiling slightly as he shook his head, feeling emotion build in his own eyes. 

But he knew she would not leave without an answer. 

“I doubt...that I am worth...,” he choked in a strangled voice, “This kind of love.”

He broke only slightly at the end, his watery eyes searching desperately around the room for anything to look at but her. 

Pam didn’t respond, and Jim felt the compulsive need to take back everything he had just confided. He was probably just tired. Right?

“I’m okay,” he lied finally, as truthfully as he could. 

He could not bring himself to look at her, to give himself any clue as to how she must see him now. No jokes, no funny one liners, just Jim, pure and unfiltered. He could feel burning tears brimming at the surface of his eyelids, yet they were never allowed to spill over. 

Then he finally heard her whisper. 

“You. Are not. Okay,” the voice said through tight lips. “Stop telling me you’re okay.”

Then Pam, strong, beautiful, amazing Pam, guided his chin back up to face her, the way she always did. 

“Look at me,” she demanded gently, and he forced himself to look her in the eyes, to allow her access to his insecurities. “You have cancer, Jim...,” he heard. “None of this is “okay”.

Jim shook his head. At what, he didn’t know. So many things were wrong. 

“I’m just so...embarrassed that I can’t even...I mean I’m just not able-.”

“I’m not embarrassed of you,” Pam interrupted. “Not in front of anyone.”

Jim took several deep breaths, at a loss for words to describe the chaos of things he was feeling in his veins. He opened his mouth and closed it several times while she waited patiently. 

“I just need some air,” he decided on finally, pulling away from her grasp to walk out on the balcony. 

She watched him leave without a word. 

Once outside, he sat for awhile, alone with himself. He put in a pair of tattered earbuds that he’d found in his jacket pocket and turned his music on shuffle. Who cares what played as long as it drowned his thoughts, drowned him for that matter. Eventually, he lost all track of time. 

Then, once all was still, the music, his thoughts, the outside world, his wife inside, lying curled on the bed, he opened the door again.  

She was not asleep, and turned her head to watch him as he approached. She smiled smally at him. He understood, and returned it, hen reached out for her warm hands, intertwining her delicate fingers with his own.

He pulled her close and wrapped his arm around her, savoring the curve of her back, the smell of her skin. He reached up slowly and pushed a strand of hair behind her ears, leaving behind one of his earbuds in its wake. 

They swayed together, in rhythm again to the melody between them. It sang softly:

     Why’d you up and run away?

     Why’d you up and run away from me, darling?

     Because you don’t have to, my serial doubter. 

     Because you don’t have to, my love. 

“I’m not okay. You’re not okay. And that’s okay,” Jim whispered into her kiss as they danced together in the dark, taking comfort while they still could, in each other’s presence,  even in the doubt. 

Because for now, Jim was not yet broken.

“I. AM. NOT. BROKEN. PAM,” Jim yelled from across the hotel room. 

“I didn’t say that you were! But-.”

“No. NO,” Jim said, and turned his back on her, using the window as an excuse to shut her out and shut her down. 

But she knew his playbook too well to allow him this kind of power play. 

“Jim, please,” she warned, reaching her hand to his shoulder and pulling him around to face her. Her lip trembled slightly, but her jaw was set. “Please don’t push me away.”

X THIRTY MINUTES EARLIER X

The Halperts needed a break from this whole nightmarish experience. 

Chemo, round two, had been even worse than round one, as the doctor’s warned them that it would be. So many restless nights, so many exhausting days, so many unspoken, terrifying questions passing between them, Pam and Jim needed a weekend to recoup...just the two of them. 

That’s why over breakfast one morning, Pam suggested, after much deliberation, that they take a weekend trip back to Niagara Falls. Jim agreed in a heartbeat. 

After all, he really needed this. 

On Friday morning, they had dropped Cece off at Grandma’s and spent two fantastic days together, laughing and dancing and enjoying each other in ways that they hadn’t been able to since the diagnosis. It was a different kind of much needed medicine, one they should’ve taken sooner. 

Everything was going so well that for a moment Pam almost forgot that an illness was even looming over them to begin with. 

Almost. 

Looking back, she supposed, at her own encouragement, Jim had just pushed himself a little too hard. He’d just completed week six of chemotherapy. He was weak. He was tired. He’d barely eaten anything that weekend. So many things could’ve contributed to what happened. Not that it wasn’t worth it, to stay up late playing cards with her husband or to relive the boat ride where they sealed their marriage, to visit the restaurants they’d loved or to walk trails, just talking, for hours, but maybe she’d been irresponsible. Even enjoyment wasn’t worth the expense of Jim’s health. 

It was on the very last day of their stay, as she and Jim strolled through a little park about a mile from their hotel, talking and laughing in the chilly morning air, that the exploits from their previous two days came calling to haunt them. 

It all happened so suddenly, as unusual things normally do. Jim seemed fine, almost normal, when he became spontaneously quiet, the kind that is all too often incorrectly diagnosed as deep thought. She pushed it off though, not wishing to ruin Jim’s morning with nagging questions about his health. He looked so happy, talking about the kinds of clouds and the breeze and the future. 

Then, just as the sun itself fell behind those clouds, casting the couple into shade, Pam, lost in conversation, realized that Jim was no longer by her side, but had stopped walking several feet behind her. She closed her eyes, dreading what she knew from the beginning of the trip might happen, and approached him with caution. 

“Hey,” she said finally, watching his expression closely for a hint of the degree of seriousness. 

He still had the remnant of a smile left in his eyes when she looked into them, but they appeared half empty now, like an hour glass quickly pouring sand. 

Her face fell. 

“Not again. Not here,” she thought. “Jim,” she said softly, bending to maintain eye contact. “Are you okay?” 

His frown confirmed what she already knew. 

“I don’t know,” he breathed, swaying slightly with the breeze. “I think I just need to sit for a second.”

“Okay,” she whispered, and put her arm around him. He’d gone very pale and she feared how quickly he’d traveled from fine to faint. She guided him discreetly to the first park bench she saw. He collapsed roughly onto it, placing his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. 

Feeling his discomfort, most likely from being aware of the people watching from around them, she sat down beside him, placing a hand on his back to let him know she was there. 

He looked shrunken, like a punished child in timeout. 

“What do I need to do,” she asked calmly after a moment. 

“Nothing. I’m okay,” he grunted, and she knew he desperately wanted to keep this as low key as possible. No need to make a scene. 

But just then, his whole body gave a sickening lurch and Pam grabbed his jacket to keep him from toppling over. Dreading the worst, she helped him push himself up and watched him stumble to a nearby tree where he doubled over and vomited into the grass. 

Pam followed him immediately, rubbing soft circles on his back as he struggled to pull himself together. His face wore a greenish tint, with a subtle mortification behind it that she only recognized because she knew him intimately. 

“Is he okay,” she heard from over her shoulder and Pam started, being so focused on her husband that everything else was simply background noise. 

She turned around and saw a young woman with what seemed to be her husband and two small children behind her. She looked genuinely concerned which Pam appreciated, but all the same, she felt herself instinctively move between the stranger and Jim, to shield him in this vulnerable moment from any onlookers. 

“Yeah, he’s okay,” Pam said hesitantly, but gratefully. Then more softly, “He just finished a round of chemo and...,” she glanced over her shoulder as Jim wretched again. “The side affects come and go.”

The lady offered her a sympathetic smile as if she could possibly understand what Pam was going through. Pam felt a burning resentment flash briefly in her gut. This wasn’t just some ruined trip to her and Jim...

“Are you staying close by” the woman asked. “We can take you somewhere so he doesn’t have to walk so far.”

Pam gave a sigh of relief mixed with a slight twinge of guilt for judging the woman prematurely. She offered her a tight lipped smile as compensation. 

“Thank you so much. That would help a lot,” she accepted gratefully. 

“Great,” the woman agreed, motioning to her husband to grab the car. “We’ll pull it up to the curb right here whenever he’s ready,” she said cheerfully. 

Pam was almost speechless at the kindness of the strangers and with the lifted pressure of how she would get Jim back to the hotel. They could avoid as many wandering eyes as possible this way. She turned to her husband who was bent over, hands on his knees, spitting into the dirt. 

“Jim,” she whispered once beside him. “That family is going to give us a ride back to the hotel so you don’t have to walk. They’re really nice.”

Jim stood up straight, but did not look at her. Something passed over his features that she couldn’t quite pinpoint. Maybe it was the intensity of what had just taken place? He opened his mouth to say something but, still staring hard at the ground, leaned over again, placing his hands back on his knees, breathing deeply. 

Her heart hurt for him. 

“I don’t need any help,” he finally choked, spiting out bile as he did. 

“There’s no reason to be embarrassed. I told them you’ve been taking chemo,” she added, picking up on the newfound reddish tinge around his cheeks. 

He turned on her so unexpectedly and with such ferocity that her body started again with a forceful jerk. 

“You told them,” he accused her, finally looking at her for the first time in several long minutes. 

She diligently searched his features, thoroughly confused as to what brought on this turn of anger, but he offered her back only a cold stare. 

“I don’t want their pity,” he snapped at her. 

“It’s not pity,” she assured him. “They’re just-.”

“I don’t need their help and I don’t need yours. Okay,” he spat and turned away from her, leaving her alone, humiliated by the one she loved. 

XXX

Jim accepted the strangers’ help, making small talk with them on the way back to the hotel, all the while Pam remained quiet in the seat beside him. She thanked the couple when they dropped them off and after a casual wave goodbye, walked beside her husband in silence to the elevator and again to the room. 

When the the door closed behind her, she went immediately into the bathroom and locked herself inside. She blinked back stinging tears while staring at the pale ceiling. Was he aware that he had cut her deeply? She sighed, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. It was stupid to cry over something this trivial, but all the same her feelings were hurt. She had only been trying to help him. 

What did he expect her to do? 

It was several long minutes before she reappeared, pointedly avoiding Jim, and sitting across the room. 

“Hey,” she heard him say softly. 

She softly ignored him. 

“Pam,” he tried again. 

She turned on the TV, deciding not to make it easy on him. 

“Look, I’m sorry.”

She turned the volume up. He’d have to work a little harder than that. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” he yelled at her over the newscaster’s droning. 

She had awoken the beast in him. 

She switched the TV off and pushed herself up to face her husband. Fury flashed in her eyes as she abandoned the idea of “not pushing it too far.”

“I’M being ridiculous,” she hissed. “Me??”

“Yes,” Jim replied lamely, seeming a little less confident, but far too stubborn to back out now. “You. I just want to talk this out so I can help us get back to having fun.”

Pam almost laughed, a cold anger beginning to simmer in her core. 

“Oh so NOW you want my help,” she smiled fakely. “I thought you didn’t need anyone’s help.”

Jim closed his eyes and breathed deeply. She recognized the warning signs, the nearness of his breaking point. 

Let it come. 

“I thought you could do this all by yourself,” she yelled, trying to mask the hurt in her voice. “You don’t need me here to take care of you!”

That was the moment that Jim finally exploded in a shower of angry sparks, but instead of careless, slinging words, he looked humiliated and ashamed. 

“I. AM. NOT. BROKEN. PAM,” Jim yelled from across the hotel room. 

“I didn’t say that you were! But-.”

“No. NO,” Jim said, and turned his back on her, using the window as an excuse to shut her out and shut her down. 

But she knew his playbook too well to allow him this kind of power play. 

“Jim, please,” she warned, reaching her hand to his shoulder and pulling him around to face her. Her lip trembled slightly, but her jaw was set. “Please don’t push me away.”

They spent the next few moments in stoney silence, staring each other down in an emotional standoff. Pam honestly felt more worried than angry, and eventually she even felt her temper soften. The circumstances had been against Jim for months. He deserved better than for her to fight him too. 

Even so, she refused to stop staring into his eyes, dissecting his thoughts frantically in this brief moment that she had them. She and Jim played cards often, and Jim always, always had a tell in his eyes. The longer they were together, though, the more Pam realized that these subtle signals were not limited only to poker, so for now, she probed his mind for something hidden, for the real problem. Then, without looking away, she reached out for his clenched, jittery hands. 

She’d found what she was looking for. 

“Do you doubt that I love you,” she asked softly, as one would address a patient on his sickbed. 

Jim stared down at his feet, guilt etched into his every feature. No part of him looked bold enough to face her right now which Pam attributed to the fact that vulnerability had never really been his strong suit. 

He sighed, smiling slightly as he shook his head. He seemed at a lost for words, or voice, one of the two. 

But he knew she would not leave without an answer. 

“I doubt...that I am worth...,” he choked in a strangled voice, “This kind of love.”

He swallowed hard, breaking only slightly at the end, his watery eyes searching desperately around the room for anything to look at but her. 

At last, the tell had surfaced. 

Pam couldn’t respond. The thought that Jim could even feel unworthy of anything she could offer him spread like pinpricks across her arms. She felt the compulsive need to assure him, to comfort him, to throw herself on him and tell him it would all be okay. It would, after all, eventually be okay. Right?

“I’m okay,” he mumbled quickly, before she could even get the thought out of her own mouth. 

There it was, her answer. 

She could not bring herself to look away from her husband, to see his absolute cluelessness as to how she viewed him. Even when there were no jokes left, no funny one liners, just Jim, pure and unfiltered, he was so perfectly what she had always longed for. She could feel burning tears brimming at the surface of her eyelids, yet they were never allowed to spill over. 

“You. Are not. Okay,” she whispered finally through tight lips. “Stop telling me you’re okay.”

She grazed the palm of her hand gracefully over his still pale cheek, stopping only to lift his chin to meet hers. 

“Look at me,” she demanded gently, and he slowly looked her in the eyes for the first time since the park. Lined and exhausted, they looked no less like the ones she married last time they were in Niagara. “You have cancer, Jim...,” she broke to him, as if it were the first time all over again. “None of this is ‘okay’.”

Jim shook his head, maybe at her, maybe at his thoughts. He spoke again in a hoarse whisper. 

“I’m just so...embarrassed that I can’t even...I mean I’m just not able-.”

“I’m not embarrassed of you,” Pam interrupted. “Not in front of anyone.”

Jim took several deep breaths, and she joined him, at a loss for words to describe the chaos of things she was feeling in her veins. All this time she thought he was embarrassed of what had happened in the open, but he was actually ashamed that it happened in front of her? Jim Halpert is brave and intelligent and kind even in the midst of his own despair. He of all people had no reason to feel shame. 

She watched him open his mouth and close it again several times, waiting patiently for his next move, concerned that he still remained unconvinced of her unconditionality.  

“I just need some air,” he decided on finally, slipping through her grasp to walk out on the balcony. 

She watched him leave without a word. 

Once Jim was outside, she laid down for awhile, alone with herself. She turned on the news again, hardly interested in what celebrity was getting divorced now, but only to fill the silence in the background. She kept glancing over to the drawn curtains where she could almost make out Jim, leaning on the railing and staring out into the darkness. She worried about him silently, eventually losing all track of time. 

Then, once all was still, the television, her anxieties, the outside world, and she lay curled up on the bed alone, she heard the door open again.  

She did not feign sleep, but turned her head to watch him as he approached. She wanted to apologize, to shove everything aside in hopes of rescuing just one more good night, but what words could she possibly invent to make everything alright again? They had long passed alright. She settled for smiling smally at him. To her relief, he understood, and returned it, then reached out his strong hands, intertwining his icy fingers with her own. 

He pulled her close and wrapped his arm around her. She savored the warmth of his chest, the safety of his skin on hers. Then slowly, he reached up and pushed a strand of hair behind her ears, leaving behind one of his earbuds in its wake. 

They swayed together, in rhythm again to the melody between them. It sang softly:

     Why’d you up and run away?

     Why’d you up and run away from me, darling?

      Because you don’t have to, my serial doubter. 

     Because you don’t have to, my love. 

“I’m not okay. You’re not okay. And that’s okay,” Jim whispered into her kiss as they danced together in the dark, taking comfort while they still could, in each other’s presence, even in the doubt. 

Because for now, Jim was not yet broken.

“Jim, please let me take you to the hospital. Please,” Pam begged, sounding more and more frantic by the minute. 

Jim shook his head stubbornly. 

“It’s just a reaction to the...,” he gulped down the nausea rising in his throat, “To the chemo. It’s always like this.” 

“It is not always like this! This is different! Something is wrong!”

It was almost midnight on the first day of Jim’s very last week of chemo. He’d finally made it to the home stretch. Just that morning his doctor had told both him and Pam that he had high hopes for the big surgery in a few weeks. They’d celebrated just hours ago with a dinner they’d cooked together, the first he’d had the energy to participate in for several weeks. But now, just when everything seemed to have balanced again, cancer tipped the scales. 

Things had taken an abrupt turn for the worst when he had woken, after having barely been asleep, in such severe pain that his whole body convulsed violently. He bit his lip for several minutes, maintaining a weak hope that it would pass, but it did not, and nausea found him as it always did. 

He’d felt his way to the bathroom as quickly and quietly as he possibly could, not wishing to wake Pam who, for now, slept peacefully. She’d been so happy today and more hopeful than he’d seen her, maybe even since the beginning of this whole ordeal. He hated to think that he would soon be the one to rip her from that and tried, with great difficulty, to suffer in silence. She must have noticed his absence, though, because it wasn’t long before he heard a gentle knock on the door and felt her soft hand on his skin. Even as he wretched and spat into the toilet bowl, it traveled across his tensed shoulders to slip under the sweat soaked bangs that clung to his forehead. 

He leaned into it slightly with eyes still closed,

secretly relieved, despite himself, that she had come for him. 

“Oh, babe,” he heard her sigh. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Jim struggled to reel himself back together long enough give her an answer. 

“Was trying to wait it...it out,” Jim choked and gagged again. 

The moment his stomach stilled, he crashed back roughly against the bathroom wall, leaning his head against it with eyes screwed shut. The pain seared into him like blades, but he knew it would pass soon. It always passed soon. 

Pam sat down beside him, and he felt the soft fabric of her pajamas brush against his arm. It brought momentary relief, sweet if only temporary. 

“Then let’s wait it out,” she whispered, and placed her hand on his thigh. 

He felt her warmth despite the fever. 

But that was two hours ago, and now Jim’s body unraveled before their eyes even as Pam, clearly terrified, plead with him to go back to the hospital. 

He remained alone on the cold tile floor trembling violently as Pam paced back and forth in the pale bathroom light. It should’ve passed by now, but it hadn’t, and she knew it. Meanwhile he tried, yet again, to quietly breathe through another painful stomach spasm, whimpering slightly as it peaked.

When he opened his eyes again, she had stopped pacing and begun to watch him, her arms folded tightly against her chest and her lips pursed into a thin line. 

“Those lips...,” he mused silently. 

But unmerciful pain spiked again before he had even the time to finish his thought. Jim gasped against his will, and somewhere in front of him, he heard Pam fumbling inside one of the bathroom drawers, eventually pulling out a medicine bottle that the hospital had given him weeks ago, for when the pain became intolerable. 

“Here,” he heard, and she forced two chalky pills into his sweaty palm. 

Jim looked at her silently, then down at his hand. He’d spent his days heavily medicated for weeks now just to get through. The pills made him feel distant, absent from his wife and baby. He hated them and hated himself on them, making sure each dose was absolutely unavoidable before it was taken. He looked back to Pam, torn and too exhausted to make a decision for himself. 

“Take them,” she instructed again, sounding if possible, more frantic. “They’ll help.”

“Pam,” he said softly, holding onto her hand that had released the medication. 

“Please,” she begged, her lip trembling even as she spoke. 

A new kind of pain surfaced inside of him, accompanied as usual by guilt and insecurity. 

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. 

“We need to go to the hospital,” she said again, this time with obvious tears falling from her bloodshot eyes. “I’m freaking out,” she whispered and her voice broke slightly under the weight of panic. 

He pulled her closer as she knelt in front of him, stilling the trembling long enough to kiss her forehead. 

“Look at me,” he demanded gently and she gazed into his eyes. His stomach leapt differently inside of him, if not easing the pain then surely making it far less noticeable. “I’m okay,” he swore to her. “I am. Everything’s okay.”

“No,” she replied, shaking her head more than necessary, yet she did not break eye contact.  “No. You don’t get to say that.”

Jim, taken back, shook his head slightly, at a loss. 

“What do you mean,” he asked, gripping her hand still more tightly. 

“You don’t get to say that to me,” she said again, almost accusingly. 

She was sobbing now, but Jim, still confused, gulped down his response in silent wait of her own timing. 

“You don’t have to watch your soulmate die, Jim,” she said with a shuddering breath. “You just don’t.”

Jim had no words. He simply gaped at her. She did not ask for his response, though, only reached forward to touch his chest, one hand still wrapped tightly in his. He felt his heart hammer underneath her fingers. 

“I will not let you die,” she sobbed. Then again, “I can’t watch you die.”

XXX

Jim woke the next morning and blinked groggily up at the bright sun streaming in through the slitted blinds. He used most of his energy to roll himself over, noticing first, the small trash can placed directly beside his head. 

“How do you feel,” he heard. 

Jim started, finally noticing his wife sitting on the coffee table beside him, watching him. 

“How long have you been there,” he asked, squinting up at her. 

Her eyes had dark circles under them that could no longer fully be hidden by makeup. She did not attempt her usual brave smile. 

“All night,” she responded. 

He reached out for her hand and grasped it firmly realizing, also for the first time, that he was on the couch. 

“How did I get in here,” he questioned her, genuinely confused. Last night was just a string of blurry memories. 

He was chemo drunk. 

“You were really sick last night,” she explained to him, absentmindedly playing with his fingers. “We were up for hours. I think it was one of the worst nights we’ve had.”

Jim swallowed again. His throat felt swollen and raw. 

“You didn’t want to lay in the bed,” he questioned, wracking his mind to connect broken puzzle pieces. 

“Well...,” she said softly, offering him a grimace, the first slight form of smile he’d seen that morning. 

Jim groaned to himself. 

“What did I do,” he asked. 

“Nothing on purpose,” she interjected assuringly. “Just...you were just really sick and...you threw up on the sheets.”

Yep, this was a new low. 

He pulled his hand back and ran it through his hair, settling finally over his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” he sighed, absolutely mortified. 

She pulled his hand away. 

“You were really, really sick,” she said again. “You get a pass.”

When he finally brought himself to look at her, she wore a small smirk, easing his humiliation slightly. 

Suddenly he remembered what day it was. 

“What time do you have the big lunch with that customer,” Jim asked. 

“Oh,” she sighed, squeezing his hand slightly. “It’s at noon, but I’m going to call and cancel.”

Jim’s heart dropped. 

“But this is a huge sale! You’ve been talking about it for weeks,” he said confusedly. “What changed?”

She offered him another small smile and his heart sunk even lower. 

“Oh...I changed,” he realized, looking away from her again. 

“It’s just, you still have a low fever and after last night...I just don’t want to leave you right now.”

Jim felt the familiar sting of guilt and tried to push himself higher up on his pillow in an escape attempt. 

“Hey, look, I’m alright now. Last night was just a super bad reaction. It’s over. See?”

He smiled at her, a super cheesy smile, probably looking a little more crazed than actually happy. She returned it, but continued to stare at him, looking very much still worried. 

“I think I can survive two hours without you,” he croaked with a smirk of his own. “As fantastic as you are.”

Pam’s smile became more genuine, if only just barely, her inner conflict playing across her face. 

She finally settled on, “Will you at least eat something before I go?”

Jim’s stomach flipped at the thought. She must’ve seen his hesitation because she added earnestly, “You have to eat something. You haven’t had anything in days.”

He knew better than to protest twice. 

“Yeah, definitely,” he nodded, and she left in the direction of the kitchen. 

Then, after a few minutes of solitary silence, he heard her cell phone ring. 

“Hey, mom,” he heard. “Will you be here soon to get the baby? I have to leave in a few minutes.”

Pam’s mom had been doing so much to help them out with their daughter since he’d gotten sick, and Jim made a mental note to do something special for her after his surgery, when things finally started looking up. 

“Oh my god. Are you okay,” Pam asked, and Jim’s chest tightened a little. “No, of course, we understand. I’ll just cancel my meeting,” she said thickly, and Jim recognized that she was about to cry. “No, no I’m fine, really mom. I’m just tired...and a little overwhelmed,” her voice broke. “I just have a lot to juggle and Jim can’t really do much anymore. It’s a lot of pressure.”

Jim’s stomach clenched sickeningly as he let this blow sink in. 

“Jim can’t really do much anymore...”

He turned over on his side and put a pillow over his ear to block the rest of the call. He didn’t need to hear how upset Pam was and her ever growing disappointment in him, but imagined all the same what she must still be telling her mother. Then, just as his pride had almost disappeared, he felt something tap on his pillow. 

It was Pam. 

“Hey,” she said sweetly with no trace in her eyes that anything had changed, “Can you sit up for me?”

Jim pushed himself up again on shaky arms, cursing his body for being so weak. Pam placed the pillow in his lap and set a bowl of steamy clear liquid on top of it. He stared down at the bowl, swallowing thickly as his stomach gave a threatening somersault. 

“Small sips,” she encouraged, and Jim reluctantly obliged. 

“You better get dressed,” he said, not wishing her to know that he had overheard the phone call. 

She sighed deeply, glancing from his eyes to the window, as she always did when she was trying to hide something from him. 

“Actually, I changed my mind. My mom’s tire popped on the way here this morning and,” she said glancing back at him momentarily, “I didn’t really want to go anyway so that actually gives me an excuse to stay here with Cece.”

Lies. Lies. Lies. 

Jim tightened his jaw and sat up as tall as he could, saying, “I can watch the baby,” as he did. 

Pam squinted back at him, a small smile playing across her lips as if the thought of him actually being a good dad was laughable. 

“Sweetheart, that takes a lot of energy and I just don’t think...”

“That I can take care of my own daughter,” he finished, growing angrier by the sentence. 

“No! That’s not what I said! It’s just I worry about you. That’s all. You need rest, Jim.”

“Or you worry that I would let something happen to her,” he said, aggressively stirring his soup. 

She reached out and grabbed his wrist. He looked hesitantly up at her. 

“I trust you completely,” she assured softly. “But I have to make some really hard decisions right now. At least until you get back on your feet...and I’m sorry if those decisions hurt your feelings.”

Jim snorted, but she was right...as usual. 

With everything in him, he summoned his strength, pushed away his pride, and looked her in the eyes. 

“Please let me do this,” he requested of her. “I need to do this.”

Pam hesitated for several long moments before responding, “I think you do,” and, squeezing his wrist, got up to go get ready. 

By the time Pam returned, Jim never wanted to see a bowl of soup ever again. He’d set it to the side and shifted down into his blanket, dozing in and out while he waited. He only woke when he felt something heavy and warm being laid across him. He blinked up at his wife. 

“I just took the comforter out of the drier,” she explained. “Thought you might like it.”

He did. 

She set the baby monitor down on the coffee table, next to the half eaten soup, then reached out and stroked his cheek. His skin was sensitive to contact, probably from the remnant of last night’s fever, but he savored her touch all the same. 

“Cece’s down for her nap and if you’re lucky she’ll be out for the next two hours so you can sleep, too. I’ll be back soon,” she said. “After I bag this sale, of course.”

“That’s right,” Jim assured her. “Easy out.”

“You’ll call me if you need anything, right,” she asked, maintaining a casual brave face. “Not that you’ll need it, though, because you’re capable,” she added. 

“We’re fine,” he assured her again, and pulled her forward to kiss her goodbye. 

Pam smiled at him, then stood to leave.

“Hey,” he called, catching her just before she shut the door. 

She stuck her head back through the frame. 

“You look so pretty,” he said, smiling proudly and looking her up and down. 

She rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same before saying, “Bye babe,” with a soft slam of the door. 

Jim, left alone with his thoughts, soon slipped back into unconsciousness. 

XXX

Jim woke suddenly, like a car crash or a thunderclap. 

He was covered head to toe in an icy sweat that bled copiously out onto the couch. He was freezing, unable to get warm despite being buried under the blanket. He convulsed violently and uncontrollably, great beads of water tickling his neck as they dripped. An excruciating yet reminiscent pain traveled through him like electricity and he curled into himself, feeling as if his stomach might implode. He thought for an instant that he would pass out under the strain, like he had that day in the office, but he forced himself not to. He had the baby. 

He attempted, with great difficulty, to sit up, groaning as the room span dizzyingly. The pain distorted his vision, making it difficult to concentrate on which direction he was facing. 

Something was very wrong. 

He abandoned pride. He forgot shame. Doubled and panting he stumbled to the bedroom in search of his cell phone, leaning heavily on any furniture he could find along the way. 

Pam would know what to do. 

Tripping down the hallway, the thought of nearing death penetrated his scrambled mind for the first time since the night of his first surgery, and Jim felt terror throw salt in his wounds. 

Still half blinded by pain, he groped his way around the bedroom feeling minuscule relief as his fingers brushed the cold metal of the phone. But as suddenly as relief had come, misfortune took its place. 

Jim wretched violently and unexpectedly, abandoning all as he sprinted to the bathroom. It was not elegant. His mind now saw in double. Jim simply picked one of the two bathroom doors he saw in front of him and crashed roughly through it. 

He vomited into the toilet bowl with instant tears of exertion draining from swollen eyes. His hands, bracing themselves upon the seat, shook so tremulously that he feared they may at any moment give and send him crashing face first into the cold porcelain. 

“Have to call Pam,” he thought, until another harsh gag disrupted him and he spat distastefully into the water. It was a new flavor, bitter, almost metallic. He opened his eyes just wide enough to make out a whirlwind of red reflecting back at him. 

“Not again,” he whispered. 

But he heaved once more, confirming his fear as blood gushed thickly from his mouth. 

“Oh god,” he whimpered. “Oh god. Not right now. Please.”

Pain tore through him, shredding a path as it went. He fell abruptly back onto the floor beside the sink, gasping in the wake of the nausea, eventually collapsing fully onto the cool tile. An ominous reality danced before him.

He was surely about to die. 

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed as burning tears fell. “I can’t. I’m so tired,” he cried though he knew Pam could not hear him. 

The pain was unbearable. He gripped his stomach tightly and with a gut wrenching cough, spat blood onto the floor. An unwarranted stillness passed suddenly through him as the thought of falling into blissful sleep tempted him. Maybe it was time to give up. Then, through the chaos, in the stillness, he heard his baby begin to cry. 

A new strength surfaced within him. Cece needed her father. 

Without thinking, he pushed himself up shakily and on pure adrenaline, his body wracked with pain. He grabbed his phone from the counter and as an afterthought, the pain killers beside it.

He pulled himself up the stairs and into the nursery with great struggle, immediately picking up a very upset Cece. 

“Don’t cry. Everything’s okay,” he whispered soothingly to her. 

They needed to get downstairs, because darkness was already beginning to creep back into Jim’s altered vision. He stood at the top of the stairwell and peered down. They rippled hazily. 

“Here we go,” he whispered, clutching Cece tightly to his chest and taking that first step.

He was halfway down when pain surged through him once more. He cried out audibly, still clinging to his daughter in an effort to sooth her. She echoed his scream. 

Everything moved in and out of focus, spinning horrendously and sending Jim over the edge for the last time. He vomited forcefully and without warning, spilling blood onto the carpeted stairs. His knees shook under his own weight as he stopped to wipe his mouth with his sleeve. 

“So much blood,” he thought momentarily. 

He felt light headed at the sight of it and accidentally missed a step, catching himself jerkily on the handrail before he toppled over. 

His arms felt like lead as the baby grew heavier and heavier with each second that his strength failed. He rocked Cece back and forth and, fearing he might drop her, decided to stay down. 

He leaned on the bottom step, bracing himself against the wall and laid Cece down on the carpeted landing. Her shrill scream pierced his pounding head. 

“Daddy’s sorry. I’m so sorry,” he slurred, vomiting again thick blood onto the step above him. 

With a last spasm of pain, he remembered his medicine bottle and fumbled clumsily with it. But in his desperation, the cap flew off and pills scattered around him in an explosion of medication. 

He abandoned them. 

He could not hold on. Unconsciousness taunted him. He felt around for his phone which he had dropped in the struggle, leaving one hand with his distressed child. He had time for one call, his surroundings fading quickly. Should he call Pam or an ambulance? His mind was too foggy to weigh pros and cons. But in the end, he decided that he didn’t want his wife to discover him dead. 

“Nine one one, what’s your emergency?”

“Please help,” he mumbled, “My baby’s with me. B-blood,” he stuttered as slippery thoughts slid through his grasp and out of his mouth.

“I’m sending someone to you, sir. Can you tell me your address,” the operator asked. 

“Please help my daughter. My wife’s at work,” he panted, crying out again as pain ripped his insides apart. 

He dry heaved and the phone slipped from his hand, but he no longer cared, leaving it to turn back to his baby. 

“I’m right here. I’m staying right here. Don’t cry,” he begged, slipping down on the landing to lay with her. “I won’t leave you alone, ever. Just breathe,” he whispered. 

“Breathe,” he whispered again. 

“Breathe.”

“Jim, please let me take you to the hospital. Please,” Pam begged, feeling more and more frantic by the minute. 

Jim shook his head stubbornly. 

“It’s just a reaction to the...,” he gulped, “To the chemo. It’s always like this.” 

Was it pride or fever that made him unreasonable?

“It is not always like this! This is different! Something is wrong!”

It was almost midnight on the first day of Jim’s very last week of chemo. They were so close to the finish line. Just that morning his doctor had told them both that he had high hopes for the big surgery in a few weeks, such a huge weight off her shoulders. They’d celebrated just hours ago with a dinner they’d cooked together, the first Jim had the energy to participate in for several weeks. But now, just when everything seemed to have balanced again, cancer tipped the scales. 

Things had taken an abrupt turn for the worst when she had woken, after having barely been asleep, with an unrelenting suspicion that something was wrong. Her fears were confirmed by Jim’s absence when she reached out to find his hand. 

She’d called his name once or twice to make sure that she wasn’t missing him in the darkness, then pushed herself wearily out of bed and towards the bathroom where her gut told her he would be. She could hear retching before she even opened the bathroom door, and stopped a moment to prepare herself. She had thought, with this being the last week of treatment, that the worst was behind them. But one of the most awful parts of chemo is that just when you think you have a grip on it, that you’ve finally adjusted to its setbacks, it always kicks you right back down again. It had not gotten easier. Seeing Jim like this would never just be easy for her. With that, she took a calming, steadying breath, drowned her disappointment, then with a soft knock, pushed open the door. 

He looked pitiful, although she would never tell him so, hunched over the toilet, trembling exhaustingly. His shirt clung to him in sweat soaked patches. 

She went to him as she always did and ran her hand briefly over his tense shoulders, taking in their heat and making her way around to his forehead. She pushed back the sticky bangs and felt the warmth of his clammy skin on hers. 

He leaned into it slightly with eyes still closed, but she was secretly hurt, despite herself, that he had not called for her. 

“Oh, babe,” she sighed. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

She watched silently as Jim visibly struggled to reel himself back together long enough to give her an answer. 

“Was trying to wait it...it out,” Jim choked and gagged again. 

Without another word, he crashed back roughly against the bathroom wall, leaning his head against it with eyes screwed shut. She knew the pain must be terrible at the moment, but it would pass soon. It always passed soon. 

With that in mind she sat down beside him, and felt the intense heat from his skin even through her pajamas. It brought momentary panic, terrifying if only temporary. 

“Then let’s wait it out,” she whispered hesitantly, and placed her hand on his thigh. 

She felt his trembling despite her own. 

But that was two hours ago, and now Pam’s emotions unraveled before their eyes even as she plead with him to go back to the hospital. 

She had long been standing, leaving Jim alone to tremble violently on the cold tile floor as she paced back and forth in the pale bathroom light. It should’ve passed by now, but it hadn’t, and Jim knew it. Meanwhile he tried, yet again, to breathe quietly through another painful stomach spasm, whimpering slightly as it peaked.

She usually pretended not to notice so as to not damage his pride any further, but this time she stopped pacing and watched him anyway. His arms were folded tightly around his stomach and his lips pressed firmly against grinding teeth. He opened his eyes and saw her watching, but she did not look away. 

“Those eyes...,” she mused silently. 

But unmerciful pain spiked again before she had even the time to finish her thought. Jim gasped as it took his breath away and Pam, against her will, gasped with him. She immediately yanked open one of the bathroom drawers and fumbled around inside until her fingers felt the hard plastic of a medicine bottle that the hospital had given Jim weeks ago for when the pain became intolerable. She grabbed the container, and kneeling down in front of him, pulled his hand from around his side. 

“Here,” she breathed and forced two chalky pills into his sweaty palm. 

Jim stared at her silently, then down at his hand. He’d spent his days heavily medicated for weeks now just to get through. The pills made him feel distant, absent from her and Cece. She knew that he hated them and hated himself on them, making sure each dose was absolutely unavoidable before it was taken. But sometimes she feared that in his deliberation, he suffered far too long. Jim looked back to her, appearing too torn and too exhausted to make a decision for himself. 

She was not torn.

“Take them,” she instructed again, sounding if possible, more frantic. “They’ll help.”

“Pam,” he said softly, holding onto her hand that had released the medication. 

“Please,” she begged, feeling her lip tremble as she spoke. 

A shadow of the healthy Jim surfaced in her husband again as he shifted, pushing himself higher in an attempt to look stronger. 

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. 

“We need to go to the hospital,” she said again, neglecting to wipe the tears falling from her own eyes. “I’m freaking out,” she whispered and her voice broke slightly under the weight of panic. 

He pulled her closer as she knelt in front of him, stilling her trembling just long enough for him to kiss her forehead. 

“Look at me,” he demanded gently and she looked hesitantly into his eyes. Her stomach leapt inside of her as it always did, if not easing her turmoil then surely making it far less noticeable. “I’m okay,” he lied to her. “I am. Everything’s okay.”

A concoction of anger and guilt swirled inside of her stomach, now heavy and still. Her clenched jaw begged her tongue to keep silent, yet despite her best efforts, the disappointments of the night, the disappointments of the month, were rung from her slowly like dirty rags. 

“No,” she replied, shaking her head more than necessary, yet she did not break eye contact. She needed him to feel the weight of her seriousness. “No. You don’t get to say that.”

Jim looked taken back, shaking his head at her silently. 

“What do you mean,” he asked and she felt him squeeze her hand, a probably unintentional response to his increasing pain. 

Again she felt guilt, but she’d held this in too long. It must come out now. 

“You don’t get to say that to me,” she said again, more accusingly than she had intended. 

She was sobbing now, but Jim, still looking confused, swallowed shallowly and mouthed silent protests. 

“You don’t have to watch your soulmate die, Jim,” she interjected with a shuddering gasp. “You just don’t.”

She held her breath for Jim’s response, but again he had no words for her. He simply gaped back. Only when she could no longer stand the suspense did she reach forward and touch his chest. She often did this when he slept to assure herself of a heartbeat, but this time she let him see. She needed him to understand again her terror from the hospital room three months ago. Finally, she returned the squeeze of his hand, imagining the pulse in his fingers as she did.

“I will not let you die,” she sobbed. Then again, “I can’t watch you die.”

Jim wasn’t quite the same for the rest of the night. By now she could recognize when he slipped into fever induced hazes and had painstakingly learned how to cope with them. He talked out of his head for the next hour, but slowly, painfully, his stomach began to settle. Hope tempted her heart, but she was so tired, so, so tired. 

She ignored it. 

When he had finally stilled for longer than a few minutes, she knew the worst was over. She knelt down and stared into his eyes for a few moments. They looked glassy and tired. Hers probably looked the same. She reached out and grazed his jaw line. His skin still burned, but at least both pain and vomiting had subsided. She could handle fever. She was a pro at fever by now. 

“Do you think you can walk,” she asked him quietly. 

He blinked groggily back at her, but nodded. 

She pulled him shakily to his feet and placed one of his arms over her shoulder, leaving one of hers around his waist. She was reminded of the first time they had done this, that first eventful day in the office where all of this had begun. 

He’d lost so much weight since then, yet now, as she supported him, he felt heavier than ever. 

She deposited him onto the bed and he curled inwards, knees to his chest, still trembling. Their trash can was dragged around to his side, and placing a cool hand on his neck she whispered, “It’s here if you need it.”

Please, God, don’t let him need it. 

Pam turned the lamp off and felt her way around to her side of the bed again, cursing silently as her toe met the bed post. She fell as roughly as Jim had back into her spot. Sleep beckoned her against her better judgment. She should probably stay up for a while to make sure he fell back asleep, but her pillow was softer than she remembered and soon it enveloped her into unconsciousness. 

It was still dark when she woke again to the sound of fumbling beside her. She pushed herself up just as Jim did the same. He was groping frantically for the trash can, but in his disorientation had knocked it over. The back of his hand was pressed firmly over his mouth, and she knew the worst was coming. 

“Hold on. Hold on. Hold on,” she plead with him as he gagged against his hand. 

She fought to disentangle herself from the covers and practically fell out of bed, feeling her way around to him with desperate abandon. 

But it was too little too late. 

Jim gagged again and vomited onto the sheets, shaking violently as he did. They both sat in silence, both trembling, Jim hanging his head looking very much humiliated. 

“Sorry,” he wept finally. “I’m sorry. I-“

He covered his face with his hands. It felt foreign to Pam to see her husband so broken.  It stung her and again the thought struck her, “It’s not always like this. This is different. Something’s wrong.”

She kissed the top of his head as it hung. 

“They’re just sheets,” she soothed and pulled them away from him. “Let’s go get on the couch.”

The tears had already blended with the sweat on his face when she pulled him shakily from the bed. 

“Come on,” she coaxed and led him down the hall to the living room. 

He fell onto the couch and it seemed to absorb him instantly. Pam picked up a spare blanket and draped it over him, but he did not seem to notice. He had already drifted back off. 

Pam, abandoned again to her anxiety, knelt on the floor beside him, reaching forward to press her fingers firmly against his chest, assuring herself again, as he slept, of a heartbeat. 

XXX

When Jim woke the next morning, he blinked first up at the bright sun streaming in through the slitted blinds. Then, in what seemed an exhausting summoning of strength, he rolled himself over, blinking secondly at the small trash can placed directly beside his head. 

“How do you feel,” she asked softly. 

Jim started, finally noticing her sitting on the coffee table beside him. 

“How long have you been there,” he croaked, squinting up at her. 

His eyes had dark circles under them that could no longer fully be hidden by charm. She felt her heart sink low again and did not attempt to humor him with her usual brave smile. 

“All night,” she responded. 

He reached out for her hand and grasped it firmly, looking surprised to find himself on the couch. 

“How did I get in here,” he questioned her. 

She was almost relieved that he didn’t remember, that way she could sift through the chaos of the past few hours and choose what he knew about last night. After all, he had enough to deal with without knowing the whole truth. 

“You were really sick last night,” she told him honestly, playing with his fingers as she did. “We were up for hours. I think it was one of the worst nights we’ve had.”

Jim swallowed again. Again, it looked painful. 

“You didn’t want to lay in the bed,” he questioned, looking already suspicious of her. 

She sighed inaudibly. She was hoping he wouldn’t ask, although she knew that he would. 

Again she decided on the truth. 

“Well...,” she spoke softly, offering him a grimace, the first slight form of smile she’d managed all morning. 

Jim groaned. He must know that she was about to deliver humbling news. 

“What did I do,” he asked. 

“Nothing on purpose,” she interjected assuringly. “Just...you were just really sick and...you threw up on the sheets.”

He immediately pulled away from her and ran his hand through his hair, settling finally over his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” he sighed, looking absolutely mortified. 

She could not bring herself to tell him anything more. He didn’t need to know about the tears on either side. She pulled his hand from his face.  

“You were really, really sick,” she said again. “You get a pass.”

She smirked at him, hoping to ease his humiliation if only slightly. Then suddenly he asked her the question she’d really been dreading. 

“What time do you have the big lunch with that customer?”

“Oh,” she sighed, squeezing his hand slightly. “It’s at noon, but I’m going to call and cancel.”

Although she’d already decided hours ago that she wasn’t going, her heart sunk as she heard herself say it out loud. 

“But this is a huge sale! You’ve been talking about it for weeks,” he said looking genuinely confused. “What changed?”

The question was laughable. How could she possibly leave him alone like this? He didn’t remember last night. He couldn’t understand how real that was or how close she’d been to taking him back to the hospital. She couldn’t explain any of that to him so she just offered him another small smile. 

“Oh...I changed,” he whispered, looking away from her again. 

She felt him intangibly pull away from her once more. 

“It’s just, you still have a low fever and after last night...I just don’t want to leave you right now,” she explained urgently. 

Pam felt the familiar sting of guilt as she watched her husband try to push himself higher up on his pillow, to show her feebly that he was not weak. 

She knew he was not weak. 

“Hey, look, I’m alright now,” he assured her. “Last night was just a super bad reaction. It’s over. See?”

He smiled at her, a super cheesy smile, looking a little more crazed than actually happy. She returned it, but continued to stare at him, feeling very much still worried. Last night continued to haunt her. 

“I think I can survive two hours without you,” he croaked with a smirk of his own. “As fantastic as you are.”

Pam’s smile became a bit more genuine, if only just barely, though her inner conflicts still dueled just below the surface. 

She finally settled on, “Will you at least eat something before I go?”

The little color in Jim’s face drained again. Noticing his hesitation, she added earnestly, “You have to eat something. You haven’t had anything in days.”

He knew better than to protest twice. 

“Yeah, definitely,” he nodded, and she left in the direction of the kitchen. 

After a few minutes of solitary silence, she heard her cell phone ring. 

“Hey, mom,” she said, opening a can of soup. “Will you be here soon to get the baby? I have to leave in a few minutes.”

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. My tire blew out on the way here,” she heard. 

“Oh my god. Are you okay,” Pam asked, feeling her chest tighten a little. 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine! I just feel terrible that I can’t come get the baby right now. I know that meeting of yours is very important!“

Pam stomached another dip in the emotional roller coaster. 

“No, of course, we understand. I’ll just cancel my meeting,” she said thickly, refusing to cry. 

“Pam, are you sure you’re alright? I’m so sorry, darling.”

“No, no I’m fine, really Mom. I’m just tired...and a little overwhelmed,” her voice broke. Silence followed as her mom waited for an explanation. “I just have a lot to juggle and Jim can’t really do much anymore. It’s a lot of pressure.”

“It is a lot of pressure. You’re handling it better than anyone could ask of you. He knows that.”

“I know,” Pam whimpered. “He’s so good to me and I know he tries to help with the baby and the house, but I just see how exhausted he is and I don’t want him to hurt himself. If anything ever happened to him I...I could- I don’t know what I would do, Mom.”

Pam drew a shaky breath. 

“But I have to go. Jim’s soup is ready,” she sighed. “I’m hoping he holds it down. If not, we have to go back to the hospital. He’s really weak right now.”

“Okay sweetheart. My tow truck is here anyway. Keep me informed and call me if you need anything. Alright?”

“Okay, Mom. Thank you again for everything. Bye.”

When she returned from the kitchen, Jim was curled on his side with a pillow over his face to block the light. She tapped on it, and he pulled it away, blinking up at her again. 

“Hey,” she said, trying desperately to disguise the disappointment in her voice, “Can you sit up for me?”

Jim pushed himself up again on shaky arms, and she placed the pillow in his lap, setting a bowl of steamy clear liquid on top of it. He stared down at the bowl, swallowing hard. She knew he must still feel terrible. 

“Small sips,” she encouraged, and Jim reluctantly obliged. 

“You better get dressed,” he suggested after a tentative spoonful. 

She sighed deeply, glancing from his eyes to the window. She hated lying to him, but it was for his own good. Right? 

“Actually, I changed my mind. My mom’s tire blew out on the way here this morning and,” she said glancing back at him momentarily, “I didn’t really want to go anyway so that actually gives me an excuse to stay here with Cece.”

Lies. Lies. Lies. 

Jim tightened his jaw and sat up a littler taller, saying, “I can watch the baby,” as he did. 

Pam squinted back at him, a small smile playing across her lips. He was such a good father, but she couldn’t risk him hurting himself just so she could make some sale at work.  

“Sweetheart, that takes a lot of energy and I just don’t think...”

“That I can take care of my own daughter,” he finished, a sudden bite to his tone. 

Pam was taken back. 

“No! That’s not what I said! It’s just I worry about you. That’s all. You need rest, Jim.”

“Or you worry that I would let something happen to her,” he said, aggressively stirring his soup. 

She reached out and grabbed his wrist. He barely looked up at her. 

“I trust you completely,” she assured him softly. “But I have to make some really hard decisions right now. At least until you get back on your feet...and I’m sorry if those decisions hurt your feelings.”

Jim snorted, and a new wave of guilt soaked her in regret. She hated that he felt less than. Then finally, he set down his spoon, took a deep breath, and stared deeply into her eyes. 

“Please let me do this,” he requested of her. “I need to do this.”

She hesitated for several long moments. The urgency in his voice compelled her to give him whatever he requested, but her better judgment screamed no. He continued to meet her gaze imploringly. Did he not understand the stakes at hand? She pushed down her fear before responding, “I think you do,” and, squeezing his wrist, got up to go get ready. 

By the time she returned, Jim had set the half eaten soup on the coffee table and ducked down into his blanket, dozing in and out while he waited. He looked drained and again she wondered if leaving was the right thing.

“The sheets,” she reminded herself with a whisper, and after taking the warm comforter out of the drier, laid it heavily across Jim. He stirred and looked up at her. 

“I just took the comforter out of the drier,” she explained. “Thought you might like it.”

He smiled gratefully. 

She set the baby monitor down on the coffee table, next to the half eaten soup, then reached out and stroked his cheek. His skin was still warm, probably the remnant of last night’s fever, but she savored his touch all the same. 

“Cece’s down for her nap and if you’re lucky she’ll be out for the next two hours so you can sleep, too. I’ll be back soon,” she said. Then as an afterthought, “After I bag this sale, of course.”

“That’s right,” Jim assured her. “Easy out.”

“You’ll call me if you need anything, right,” she asked, feeling strong enough now to manage a brave face. “Not that you’ll need it, though, because you’re capable,” she added. 

“We’re fine,” he assured her again, and pulled her forward to kiss her goodbye. 

She smiled at him despite her anxiety, then stood to leave.

“Hey,” he called, catching her just before she shut the door. 

She stuck her head back through the frame. 

“You look so pretty,” he said, smiling proudly and looking her up and down. 

She rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same before saying, “Bye babe,” with a soft slam of the door. 

As she got in the car, she took a deep calming breath, assuring herself that it was just two hours and her family would be very much still intact when she returned, hopefully with her first major sale under her belt. 

XXX

Reality happens suddenly, like a car crash or a thunderclap. 

Pam could hardly contain her excitement. The lunch, while taking a little longer than she had anticipated, had gone better than she could’ve dreamt. When she walked into the restaurant, all her cares melted as she stepped into the role of Pam Halpert, business woman. She answered every question with a smooth customer assurance. Jim was going to be so proud of her. She’d felt so weighted lately, but now as she drove down the highway back towards her house, the heaviest problem on her mind was should she call Jim and tell him now or wait and surprise him in person? She debated for only a few seconds before excitement got the better of her and she caved, whipping out her phone and calling Jim. 

It rang several times before going to voicemail. 

“He’s probably with the baby,” she thought, but still some unknown anxiety surfaced within her. 

She tried again. It went to voicemail again. This time she left one. 

“Hey, babe. I’ll probably be home before you even hear this, but if I’m not, call me back. I’ve got great news!”

An ambulance passed her in the opposite direction, and she covered her ear to block out the siren. 

“I’ll see you soon. Love you,” she finished, then hung up, that uneasy feeling growing stronger by the second.

She drove faster. 

The next ten minutes seemed to draw themselves out despite her self assurances that he was okay. He was just with Cece, who was also okay. She tried calling again, but again there was no answer. Her stomach tightened painfully. 

“C’mon Jim,” she begged, and drove still faster. 

Traffic rules suddenly became traffic guidelines as she raced home to her family. Jim was okay. Cece was okay. She was okay. They were playing. They were napping. Did Jim even have his phone when she left?

She turned down their street and saw the lights before anything else, a cop car. Was it in her driveway or their neighbors? She knew the answer before she could accept it. 

The cop car was parked in front of her home. 

She pulled up to the curb and flung herself from the vehicle, neglecting to shut the door. An officer met her three steps later. 

“Mrs. Halpert,” he asked. 

“What happened? Is my daughter okay,” Pam interrupted. 

She tried to push past him, but he stopped her with one strong arm, guiding her gently towards a different car. 

“Right here. Right here,” he soothed. 

With one motion another officer emerged, holding Cece. 

Pam let out a shaky sigh of relief and took her baby back, holding her as close to her chest as she could. She rocked her back and forth burying her face in fine hair that smelt of baby shampoo.

“W-where’s my husband,” she stammered. “Where’s Jim?”

“They’ve got him in an ambulance. He’s on his way to the hospital right now. Do you have someone you can call?”

Pam ignored them. She suddenly felt dizzy. Her thoughts spun around in a whirlpool of panic. 

“Ma’am, you okay,” she heard. “Do you want to sit down?”

Pam shook her head slightly. “No...no,” she whispered. “I have to go. I need to- Um...tha-thank you for...I have to go. I’m sorry.”

She didn’t hear anything else that the officers said to her. She could not hear anything, but the blood pounding in her own ears. She set Cece in her car seat with trembling hands, fumbling around with the clasp until they made a connection. Then without a second look towards her house she pulled from the driveway and sped back in the direction from whence she came.

By the time Pam reached the highway again, she was covered head to toe in an icy sweat that seeped copiously from her panic. She was freezing and burning all at the same time, unable to decide on a satisfactory car temperature. Her hands shook uncontrollably on the steering wheel as an excruciating yet reminiscent pain traveled through her like electricity. She wanted to stop, hide, curl into herself, feeling as if her stomach might implode with anxiety. She thought for an instant that she would pass out under the strain, but she forced herself not to. She had the baby. 

She attempted, with great difficulty, to sit up a little straighter, focus on the road as her emotions span dizzyingly out of control. The pain in her chest and her throat and her stomach and arms and legs and her entire being distorted her vision, making it difficult to concentrate on which direction she was driving. 

She had known something was very wrong...and left him anyway. This was her fault. 

Panting, she gripped the steering wheel with one hand and with the other, fumbled around in search of her cell phone, gasping heavily for air as she could not find it. 

Even if she had it, what would she do?

The thought of Jim’s nearing death penetrated her scrambled mind for the first time since the night of his first surgery and she felt terror throw salt in her open wounds. 

Still half blinded by panic and veering dangerously off the road, she groped her way around between the seats with one hand still on the wheel, feeling minuscule relief as her fingers brushed the cold metal of the phone. But as suddenly as relief had come, misfortune took its place. 

She felt overwhelmingly and unexpectedly sick. 

She abandoned pride. She forgot shame. She jerked the car to the side of the road. Cars honked at her in frustration, but she cared none. She needed air. Her lungs were burning. Her mind now saw in double. Pam parked and threw herself roughly from the car for the second time that day. 

 It was not elegant. 

She had barely stepped around the car before she vomited onto the grass, tears of exertion draining from swollen eyes. Her hands, bracing themselves against the passenger door, shook so tremulously that she feared they may at any moment give and send her crashing face first into the weeds. 

“Pull it together, Pam,” she thought, until another harsh gag disrupted her and she spat distastefully into the grass. The panic attack tore through her, but there wasn’t time to ride it out. She had to get to the hospital. He couldn’t be dead. He wouldn’t die. She couldn’t go back to her life without him. There was no life without him. 

“Not again,” she whispered. 

She heaved once more, but quickly pulled herself back together, hurrying shakily back to the driver’s seat. 

“Oh god,” she whimpered. “Oh god. Please don’t be dead. Please.”

Terror tore through her, shredding a path as it went. She was almost to the hospital. Just a few more miles. Pam gasped in the wake of more nausea, but swallowed it down again, an ominous reality dancing before her. 

Would she return home without a husband?

She couldn’t unravel. Jim wouldn’t want her to unravel. She had to carry the weight of the family. The time had come for her to bear it herself. Yet she could feel her will begin to crack. 

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed as burning tears fell. “I can’t. I’m so tired,” she cried though she knew Jim could not hear her. 

The pain was unbearable. Her heart hammered against her collapsing stomach. An unwarranted stillness passed suddenly through her as the thought of Jim dying alone invaded her mind. She could not live without him. She would surely die, too. Maybe it was time to give up. Then, through the chaos, in the stillness, she heard their baby begin to cry. 

A new strength surfaced within her. Cece needed her mother. 

Without thinking, she drew herself back together shakily and on pure adrenaline, her emotions wracked with pain.

She pulled into the hospital parking lot as quickly as she dared, reaching a hand behind her to rub the leg of a very upset Cece. 

“Don’t cry. Everything’s okay,” she whispered soothingly to her. 

They needed a parking spot, a close one. As soon as she’d asked, the prayer was answered. Pam pulled into a spot close to the Emergency Room doors. She jumped out and pulled open the back door of the car. 

“Here we go,” she whispered, pulling out her baby and clutching her tightly to her chest as she took that first step.

She was halfway across the parking lot when pain surged through her once more. She sobbed audibly, still clinging to her daughter in an effort to sooth her. Cece echoed her mother’s internal scream. 

Everything moved in and out of focus, spinning horrendously as the panic attack surged again, sending Pam over the edge for the last time. She wept forcefully and inconsolably, spilling tears onto her child’s forehead. Her knees shook under her own weight as she stopped to wipe them with her sleeve. 

“It’s too much. I can’t,” she thought momentarily. 

She felt light headed at the thought of the impending news she would surely receive and  accidentally tripped over the curb, catching herself jerkily before she toppled over. 

Her arms felt like lead as the baby grew heavier and heavier with each second that her strength failed. She rocked Cece back and forth, fearing silently that she might drop her, but stepping through the sliding doors all the same. 

She dragged her feet to the front desk and braced herself heavily against it. Cece’s shrill scream pierced her pounding head. 

“Can I help you,” the receptionist finally asked. 

“My husband,” she mumbled, “He was brought in on an ambulance a few...few minutes ago,” she stuttered as slippery thoughts slid through her grasp and out of her mouth.

“What’s his name,” the woman asked. 

“Um...Jim Halpert,” she panted, beginning to cry again as his name ripped her insides apart. 

She felt dizzy and lightheaded and sick, but she no longer cared, ignoring herself to turn back to her screaming baby. 

“I’m right here. I’m staying right here. Don’t cry,” she begged, slipping down into a seat to talk to her daughter. “I won’t leave you alone, ever. Just breathe,” she whispered. 

“Breathe,” she whispered again. 

“Breathe.”

Beep. 

Beep. 

Click. Click. 

Pam could not sleep. 

Pam could never sleep. 

Beep. 

Exhaustion consumed her mentally, even emotionally, but never physically. That would be too kind. 

Beep. 

Jim was not awake. 

Jim was never awake. 

Click. Click. 

She was alone. 

XXX

“Can I help you,” the receptionist finally asked. 

“My husband,” she mumbled, “He was brought in on an ambulance a few...few minutes ago,” she stuttered as slippery thoughts slid through her grasp and out of her mouth.

“What’s his name,” the woman asked. 

“Um...Jim Halpert,” she panted, beginning to cry again as his name ripped her insides apart. 

She felt dizzy and lightheaded and sick, but she no longer cared, ignoring herself to turn back to her screaming baby. 

“I’m right here. I’m staying right here. Don’t cry,” she begged, slipping down into a seat to talk to her daughter. “I won’t leave you alone, ever. Just breathe,” she whispered. 

“Breathe,” she whispered again. 

“Breathe.”

XXX

Pam watched her husband’s chest rise and fall. The doctor had sworn to her that he was stable, but her anxiety knew that each breath was the last one she’d witness. 

Beep. 

She reached for his hand, only to let go again. His hands were cold. She hated it. But no amount of friction or squeezing or covering or...pleading... No amount of pleading reanimated them. 

Beep. 

She was the one who was always supposed to have cold hands. 

“How does it feel to be a frostbite survivor,” he asked her frequently. Or upon handing her a cup of warm coffee, “Oh it’s for me. I just wanted your hands to cool it down to a drinking temperature,” he’d say with his little smirk. “You didn’t think I was doing something romantic, did you, Beesly?”

She reached for him again, her desire to be near trumping her pains of nostalgia. She tried again to warm him. She plead again to warm him. 

Click. Click. 

Fear knocked at her heart. 

XXX

“Knock. Knock.”

Pam barely heard the voice through the thick wooden door. She turned quickly, expecting another doctor, relieved to see a friend. 

“Michael.”

She breathed the word like a question, but the corners of her mouth flickered into the smallest smile. 

“Hi,” he smiled. “I came as soon as I heard.”

Her brow furrowed. She’d only been in Jim’s room for an hour. She hadn’t even been able to reach her mother yet, to see if she could come get Cece. 

“What- how did you hear, exactly,” she asked. 

Michael shuffled in, a large balloon reading, “It’s a boy,” in tow. 

“Well I heard about your big sale of course. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she whispered automatically. 

“But when you didn’t call the office in person I just knew...,” he sighed glancing to Jim, asleep on the bed. “That something else bad had happened....I called the hospital.”

“Oh, Michael,” she said through pursed lips. “I’m sorry. I meant to call so the sale could be put in the system.”

He waved her off. 

“Psh. Pam. Pam. Please.” He bent down to address Cece who was playing on a blanket with a set of keys. “Hello,” he cooed to her. “Can you say Michael? Michael?”

Pam watched as Cece stared blankly at him before offering up her toy. 

“No, you keep those. I drove myself,” he replied. 

He stood and moved past a silent Pam to look over the hospital bed. “How’s our boy,” he asked, taking a closer look at Jim. 

Pam stood from her chair and walked over to join Michael. Her arms were crossed and she stroked her own shoulders. 

“He hasn’t woken up yet,” she admitted softly. She made quick eye contact with her boss before looking away. “The doctor said he’s really weak so,” she swallowed. “They gave him something to knock him out...and something for the pain...and some fluids,” she nodded. “But he’s stable,” she said, her smile flickering again. 

Michael placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright,” he asked. 

She watched him closely, longing for comfort, but unable to bring herself to tell him anything. To tell him how the tumor in Jim’s stomach caused him vomit enough blood to lose consciousness. How the paramedics, catching her in the hallway, had told her that Jim was found still holding Cece’s little fingers in his. How the doctor’s were debating putting Jim through another round of chemo before an operation. How she’d have to tell him when he woke. How could she tell him? He couldn’t take anymore. Would he give up?

“Yes,” her smile lied. “Of course.”

XXX

Beep. 

She adjusted his blanket. 

Jim had a pet peeve that involved the bed sheet and the comforter being equal lengths on the bed. It was always ridiculous. 

She always humored him. 

Beep. 

Her hand, having traveled from his fingers to the blankets, felt it’s way to his pale cheek. It, too, felt cold. 

She supposed this was a good thing, considering the doctor was concerned about his temperature earlier that week. How did the good things still sound like bad things?

Click click. 

“Jim,” she sighed.

He stirred.

XXX

Pam heard the sheets stir before she heard the raspy voice. 

“Pam,” it whispered. 

It had been two days already. Other than Michael and her mother bringing by the baby, she had heard no other voices but those of the occasional doctor or nurse. 

She turned hesitantly, hardly daring to believe that she had not simply imagined the sound. 

“Hey,” he smiled, his eyes heavy lidded. 

She was so relieved that he was awake that a breathy laugh escaped her soul. She kissed his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks, his hair, his ears, his everything until she convinced herself that it was real. 

He let her. 

XXX

Beep. 

He did not stir twice. Part of her was content that after three months he was finally getting quality rest. The other part of her resisted the temptation to wake him, to talk to him. It didn’t have to be about cancer. It could be about a strange dream he had or what Cece had learned at Grandma’s yesterday. 

Beep. 

Cece...

He was missing the first year of her life. She was learning so fast, growing up so rapidly that it felt she was bigger every time Pam hugged her. Would he miss her first steps? Would he miss her first words? 

Gravity taunted her. 

Would he be alive for her first steps? Would he be alive for her first words?

Click. Click. 

XXX

He was asleep again when they came in. She sat beside him, placing a soft hand on his chest.  He blinked up at her as she placed something heavy down beside him. 

“Say, ‘Hey Daddy,’” she whispered. 

Jim’s eyes fluttered fully open and he smiled at his daughter. He pushed himself up to better see her. He hadn’t done that in a while. 

“Hi,” he smiled back at her. 

Cece grinned, reaching out to touch her father’s face. 

XXX

Beep. 

She was so cold. 

The hospital kept it freezing during the night...and during the day for that matter. She was already wearing both cardigans that her mom had packed for her when Pam refused to go home. She looked back to her husband. 

She was so cold. 

Beep. 

She quietly lifted up the blankets and slid in beside him. She waited only a moment to make sure she hadn’t woken him before laying her head on his shoulder. 

It was warm there. 

It was safe there. 

Click. Click. 

XXX

Jim’s head was resting against her shoulder and casually she ran her fingers through his matted hair. 

He breathed out a low hum, soft and smooth with eyes closed. 

“Don’t stop,” he whispered. 

How could she refuse that?

She continued to play with different dark strands, pushing them one way, then another. 

He dozed as she did. 

After several minutes she drifted off, too, her head falling on top of his. She only woke when Jim moved jerkily, readjusting his position on the bed. 

“Are you okay,” she asked. 

He nodded, staring dolefully at one of his IVs. She waited for more, but he said nothing else. She had told him this morning that the doctor was debating putting him through another round of chemo. He’d shrugged it off, squeezing her hand in a what can you do kind of way, but his eyes took the news much harder. 

“Do you want to eat something? They brought some soup earlier,” Pam offered. 

“I’m not hungry,” he said softly, still staring absently into space. 

She watched him. 

“You have to eat, Jim,” she coaxed again. 

He ignored her, laying his head back down on her shoulder. In a few moments, he slept again. 

XXX

Beep. 

Pam blinked and the room seemed much brighter. Had she fallen asleep? Or maybe time was taunting her, hurrying closer and closer as her dread of the morning grew. 

Beep. 

She could feel her breath race alongside her thoughts. He would be fine. He would be fine. He would be fine. 

She glanced towards the window again. What time was it? She couldn’t see the clock on Jim’s other side. Was a doctor about to walk through the doors and change their lives forever?

Click. Click. 

She wished time would slow down, just for a moment. 

XXX

Life moved slowly in the days preceding the impending news. It was day six, and that morning Jim had been taken downstairs for testing that would determine if surgery was still an option or if they would have to endure more treatment. 

The wait was torture. 

Now that Jim was on constant pain killers, he slept most of the day. Pam, trying desperately to take advantage of her first true peaceful moments since the baby was born, slept restlessly beside him. Questions plagued her mind. In the end, she was glad they were both snagging whatever rest they could in whatever shifts they could, but she lived for the moments that they were awake together, the moments they, together, could ignore their current situation. 

They watched a football game. They watched the food network. An episode here, a movie there, anything to distract them. Jim had a talent for correctly guessing the outcomes every single time, a trick he would perform until his eyes grew heavy and Pam would kiss his forehead with her blessing to fall back asleep. 

When he slept alone, she found herself sketching him to fill the emptiness. They weren’t technically complex pieces of art, but often simple sketches of whatever unflattering angle she could see in that moment, however they were him, and that was enough. 

He looked so tired. 

“Please don’t give up,” she would whisper both to Jim and to herself. “Please.”

XXX 

Beep. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Halpert?”

Pam must’ve fallen asleep again. She blinked stupidly, noticing that the lights were on in the room now. Jim’s arm was around her, his fingers absentmindedly twirling a piece of Pam’s hair. She squinted at him drowsily. He smiled and kissed the top of her forehead. 

Beep. 

“You were out for a while. Sleep good?”

Pam couldn’t get her thoughts to connect with her tongue. The nurse who had woken her was already checking monitors and adjusting tubes. 

“Are you nervous? I’m nervous,” Jim said, still twisting Pam’s hair. 

Pam’s mind was still foggy. How hard had she slept?

“Nervous,” she asked, furrowing her brow at him. 

“Yeah, I mean, this could all be over today. Right? We can finally go back to normal, Pam,” he breathed, a hopeful laugh whispering through his smile. 

Pam, at a loss, shook her head at him. 

“You were sleeping so hard when the doctor came in that I didn’t want to wake you up,” he admitted with a grin. 

Everything suddenly clicked in Pam’s mind. 

Click. Click. 

“They’ve decided to operate,” she asked, her eyes growing wider, her breath catching hopefully. 

He nodded. 

“Tonight.”