She is curled up on the couch with a mug of Earl Gray when she hears his call come through.

About a year ago (has it really been a year?) he had insisted that she give him his own ring tone so that she would instantly know it was him calling. She had teased him, accusing him of being awfully full of himself to think that he was important enough to get his own ring. In retaliation, she gave him the most obnoxious ring tone that her phone offered: a cheesy polyphonic version of “When the Saints Go Marching In.”

Unfazed, he proceeded to call her every fifteen minutes that day, performing a little satisfied head bob to the tune while she battled her embarrassment under the annoyed glares of Stanley and Angela. But she refused to change his ring, because she wouldn’t admit defeat.

But when all of a sudden “When the Saints Go Marching In” comes blaring from her phone, she is completely startled and bewildered. She forgot about his special ring. He hasn’t called her cell—not once—since that night, the night that she just told Roy about.

She still manages to answer before the song reaches its second verse, and she finds herself running to her car while they speak.

So now she’s in her car, and she’s trying not to think about the different activities that Jim and Karen could have been engaged in that would have distracted him from checking his voicemail.

She’s only a few minutes from his house when his tone changes from angry to protective. She can practically see his body stiffen and his jaw clench right before he says, “I don’t want him near you.”

She immediately feels her defenses go up. Because why should he get to care now? Why does he get to act like he cares about what happens between her and Roy?

So she rushes to end his concern, to push him away. She tells him that Roy has never hit her, even though he doesn’t ask.

And when he asks her “What has he done?” in that skeptical tone, she hates him.

Because she remembers brutal fingers encircling her arms and squeezing till it hurt. She remembers his large frame towering over her and her scrambling backward until her back hit the wall. She remembers being awakened to the weight of his body pressing down on hers, clumsy hands pawing at her nightshirt, and the smell of alcohol on his breath.

And she doesn’t hate Roy when these memories invade her mind. She hates Jim. Because he’s forcing her to realize again how stupid she was for staying with Roy when she had the chance to leave him for something—someone better. How weak she was to ever go back to him just because she was lonely and he managed to make her smile. How she made a complete mess of everything yet again.

But what really gets her is when he asks, “Last time it was eight months. How long this time?”

Because fuck him. Because what did he know about anything? Because how could he trivialize everything it had taken for her to leave Roy? Because when did he ever have to force himself to admit that the last ten years of his life were a waste?

Because why does he get to act like he cares now when he didn’t do anything during those eight months to make her think that she shouldn’t go back to Roy? Has he conveniently forgotten that?

She jogs his memory by acidly saying that she’ll be there soon so that he can get back to his girlfriend.

He tries to say something else, but she hangs up and clenches the steering wheel to stop her hands from shaking.

When she pulls up to his house the first thing she sees is Jim standing in the middle of the driveway. She only sees his profile, because he’s looking at something by his front door, but before she can turn to see what he’s looking at she notices his cheek.

“Oh my god,” she mutters.

She knows that faces bleed a lot. She’s gotten errant cuts on her cheek or chin before in little accidents. But this is a lot of blood. It’s all over his cheek and some of it is spattered on his shirt. It’s darker, almost purple right above his cheekbone.

Her stomach turns and all of the anger she felt is pushed out of the way by panic and concern and guilt. She’s frowning when she undoes her seatbelt and pushes her way out of the car. He turns to look at her as she takes a few hurried steps toward him, but her progress is halted by the sound of Roy shouting.

“HALPERT!”

She sees Roy on the doorstep with Karen. His face is redder than Jim’s, although he isn’t bleeding. She shoots an alarmed look at Jim.

“I thought you said he passed out,” she says to him. She immediately berates herself.

Nice, Pam. He’s standing in front of you, bleeding, and the first words out of your mouth are “I thought you said he passed out?” Try, “Oh my God, your face! Are you okay?” Try, “I’m so sorry.” Idiot.

“He did,” Jim says. He sounds annoyed, and she can’t blame him.

Roy is still shouting belligerently. Karen is looking on from a foot or two away. She doesn’t seem at all fazed by the screaming man next to her. She doesn’t look scared or worried. She looks blank, like she’s in a daze.

“Karen! Get away from him!” Jim shouts.

Karen looks up, as if noticing Jim for the first time. She makes no move toward the door.

“Is that Pam?” Roy bellows. “Pam, you came just in time to watch me beat the crap out of your boyfriend!”

But when Roy his first furious step toward the two of them, Karen suddenly snaps out of whatever thoughts have been consuming her. She grasps wildly at Roy’s arm, tugging just hard enough to send him tottering a few inches backwards. He flails violently, trying to shove Karen off of him. Jim takes a step forward, poised and ready to intervene, but he stops when Roy successfully frees himself without hurting Karen.

However, Roy’s exertions have thrown him off balance and he lurches face first toward the ground. He reacts instantaneously, sticking both hands out in front of him to break his fall.

As soon as his hands hit the pavement, he screams. He lets loose a string of profanity, interspersed with howls of pain.

Pam whirls around to face Jim.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asks desperately.

It doesn’t make sense for him to be in that much pain from such a short fall. She can’t help the tug of pity in her gut. She doesn’t want to cause Roy any more pain tonight. She knows that Jim can see it in her face, and his expression hardens.

“He broke his hand on my face. Poor guy,” Jim deadpans.

Pam let’s out a little, “Oh,” and gives Jim a contrite look. She wants to say something about his face, about how sorry she is, but then Roy howls again and she turns away. She rushes over to Roy and she can hear Jim following behind her.

He looks terrible. She leans down over his collapsed form to catch a glimpse of his injured hand. If it was broken to begin with, then landing with all of his weight on it a second ago can’t be good. The skin is mottled and bruised. There is a strange lump below one of his knuckles, and Pam cringes when she realizes that it’s probably a bone protruding out of place. She’s thankful that the bone didn’t break through skin, because then she might have actually fainted.

“Roy, come on. We have to go to the hospital,” she says gently.

She reaches for him, but he draws back sharply.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, you… you slut!”

She sees Jim stiffen beside her and she reels back, wounded. She wants to explain it away as a drunken insult that he doesn’t really mean, but she can’t. She tries to tell herself that it wasn’t cheating. That it was just a kiss. But she knows in her heart that’s not true either. So she decides to ignore the insult altogether.

“Look, let’s just call for an ambulance,” Jim says quietly so that only she can hear. “You aren’t getting in a car with him.”

“No!” she blurts out. She is going to fix this. “Jim just—look, if you want to help me you can start moving Kenny toward my car.”

Jim looks at her, disbelief evident on his face. He raises his eyebrows and juts out his chin a little.

“Um, he’s huge and he’s dead weight so I’m thinking that’s not going to happen. He’ll be spending a comfortable night on the hood of my car.”

Pam feels her agitation rising, but Roy’s voice distracts her again.

“How many other times were there?” he growls.

She can’t figure out what he’s referring to, but she really doesn’t want to have a conversation with him. She wants to get him out of here and into a hospital and just be done with this night. With this relationship.

“Roy, your hand. Come on. I’m trying to help you here,” she says.

“NO! Pam! You don’t want to help me! You lied to me!” Roy shouts.

Pam frowns again. He doesn’t seem too drunk. She’s seen him much worse, but he isn’t making any sense.

“No, I told you the truth,” she says. For once, she adds to herself.

“Then it was a lie of the mission!” he blusters.

“What?” she asks, more confused than ever.

“I think he means lie of omission,” Jim interjects in a mocking tone.

“Stay out of this, you stupid fuck!” Roy bellows.

Jim purses his lips and nods.

“Yeah? What are you gonna do? Fall down at me?” he retorts.

“Maybe I’ll just even out your face, huh? Hit your other cheek so you have a matching pair?” Roy snarls.

“Cool,” Jim says, mock-casually. His eyes light up like a great idea just occurred to him. “Hey, maybe you could break your other hand doing it and look even smarter.”

Pam has had enough of this.

“Stop it!” she shouts, glaring at Jim. He stares back at her defiantly. She is about to say more to him, but Roy is talking to her again.

“You said it was one kiss,” Roy says. It sounds like an accusation.

“Roy, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Just please come with me,” Pam says impatiently.

“The DUNDIES Pam?!” Roy bellows. “That was like eight months before Casino Night!”

And Pam is suddenly frozen where she stands. Her stomach drops to her feet. How the hell did this happen? She whips around to face Jim, because he must have said something before she got there. Would he really be stupid enough to egg Roy on like that?

But Jim isn’t looking back at Pam. He’s staring straight ahead at Karen, who has just been standing there, silent and forgotten in the chaos

“What the hell, Karen?” he asks, disbelievingly.

Karen’s expression changes from blank to furious in no time flat.

“Don’t you dare get mad at me,” she hisses. “How the hell was I supposed to know? It’s not my fault that the two of you each told us about one kiss and they weren’t the same one!”

“What?” Pam says, bewildered. She still can’t quite fit everything together in her head.

“Don’t ‘what’ me, damn it!” Roy hollers. He starts to struggle to his feet. “I know about the Dundies, Pam! I know that you and Halpert were sucking face as soon as I left.”

And then it clicks.

Pam reels around to face Jim.

“That’s the kiss you told her about?” she asks him incredulously.

“What?” Karen blurts out. “Jesus, how many were there to choose from?”

Pam shakes her head dismissively.

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” she says shortly. “Roy, that kiss… I was drunk. I barely even remember it.”

LIAR! The voice in Pam’s head screams. She remembers that kiss. She remembers every detail. She has called that particular memory up countless times since that night.

“Doesn’t matter?” Roy repeats furiously. “Why are you avoiding the question, Pam? How many were there?”

“Did it stop at kissing?” Karen interjects, looking at Jim.

Pam feels something in her snap. She doesn’t enjoy being double-teamed all of a sudden and she’s getting fed up.

“You know, it’s not like you exactly gave me a chance to come clean on everything, Roy. You pretty much ended the conversation when you started throwing things,” she snaps.

“Come clean on everything?! What is everything?” Karen demands.

“Nothing!” Jim says impatiently. “There were just two kisses!”

“Oh, I’m just supposed to believe that?” Karen retorts. “I wasn’t throwing things, Jim. You had the chance to tell me everything.”

“Jesus, Karen. Not. Now,” Jim bites out. He shoots Karen a warning look.

“Roy, it didn’t mean anything. Just calm down,” Pam says. It’s another lie, of course, but she needs to stop him from getting worked up again.

“Oh, right. Of course,” Roy says bitterly. “It was just a kiss. It had nothing to do with you calling off the wedding. That’s what Halpert was saying before. But we both know better don’t we, Pam?”

He sneers at her and she feels the last of her patience evaporate.

“Roy, just get in the car!” she shouts.

“No! You think you have the right to tell me what to do? You’re a fucking whore!”

This time it’s easier to brush the insult aside.

“You’re drunk,” she declares with irritation.

“Doesn’t mean you’re not a whore,” he retorts viciously.

Pam freezes again. She grits her teeth and purses her lips.

“Nice,” she mutters. “Roy, just—”

“No, no, no, Pam. You ‘just’! Okay?”

“What? What does that even mean?” she asks in annoyance.

Roy opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, trying to come up with a reply. In the end, he settles for another insult.

“You just think you’re so much better than me, huh?” he snarls.

“Roy—” Pam begins.

“No!” he shouts. “You think you can just pretend that you’re little Miss Perfect? Perfect Pammy, here to save the day, huh?”

“Oh yeah, that’s exactly what I think,” she says, rolling her eyes. Not this rant again.

“Yeah. It is,” he snaps back. “Well, guess what, Pam? I never cheated! Okay? That was you. You’re the reason that this didn’t work.”

Pam nods stiffly.

“Okay, Roy. You’re right. It’s all me. So you don’t have to be mad at Jim or anyone else. So let’s just go to the hospital.”

“Don’t do that,” Roy says sharply. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a little kid. I hate it when you do that.”

“What do you want me to do, Roy?” Pam says in exasperation. “Because you can’t stay here and keep acting like a lunatic.”

“What do I want?” Roy repeats. “I want you to tell little Jimmy Halpert here exactly what you told me, because he seems a little confused. He seems to think that it was just a kiss—oh, wait, I’m sorry—kisses,” Roy sneers.

And then he says something that makes her feel like she has just been punched in the stomach, like all of the air has been forced from her lungs and she’s paralyzed.

“Why don’t you tell him what you told me, huh? I want him to know what a whore you are. Tell him that you had feelings for him while we were together.”