“Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam.” She switched the receiver from her bandaged hand to her un-bandaged one, picking at the edge of the raveling tape with her thumb. She could see Jim out of the corner of her eye, his head turned slightly, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

She bit her lip and closed her eyes, forcing herself not to look. They had been avoiding each other for three days now. She couldn’t look at him without feeling a surge of anger and a gnawing feeling of guilt. She would follow him with her eyes when he would walk in the door and avert them quickly when he looked up to meet her gaze. He would stare at her openly in meetings while her head was bowed as she studiously took notes and as soon as she would even chance to look up, he would pretend to be lost in thought at a point above her head. It was like taking two steps forward and ten steps back.

She patched the client through to Dwight and hung up the phone, digging her palms into her eyes until she saw spots. A dull pain resided in her right hand where the burn had scorched her skin.

She was still baffled about the burn. How could the toaster have burned her when it was clearly unplugged? And why didn’t she have a heat flash since then? She could have sworn that when she yelled at Jim she felt something-

No, that was ridiculous.

She jumped slightly as the phone rang on her desk and let her hands drop uselessly by her side. She mock glared at the phone and reached forward with her uninjured hand, tapping her nails on the counter lightly.

“Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment and then an Indian accent flooded into her ear.

“Pam? Pam Beesly?”

Pam squinted her eyes in confusion. “Yes, this is Pam Beesly, how can I help you?”

“My name is Mohinder Suresh and I have something, well, extraordinary to tell you.”

Pam spun herself slightly in her chair, tangling the cord around her wrist. “What do you mean?”

She could hear shuffling on the other end and then a sigh. “Well, uh, it isn’t exactly something I can tell you over the phone for specific reasons. Is there any way you could get to New York?”

“New York? For what?”

“Well, you see, that’s the thing Ms. Beesly. You are a part of something great, remarkable even, and I would just like to assist you in any way I can.”

Pam scratched her head with her pinky nail. “No, I don’t think I feel comfortable with that. I don’t even know you.”

She could see Jim’s back tense and knew he was listening. She turned her back to him and ducked her head down slightly.

She heard Mohinder sigh again. “I understand that. But just give me a chance.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t even understand what you are talking about. What am I a part of? What are you helping with?”

He paused and she thought for a moment that he had hung up. “Have you-“ He began hesitatingly. “Have you felt different lately?”

Pam looked down at the palm of her right hand. “Different how?” She whispered.

“Have you found that you can do things?”

“What sort of things?”

“This would be so much easier in person.” He muttered more to himself than to her, his voice barely coherent over the shaky connection. “I mean,” He began again, more confident. “I mean that there is a cheerleader, in the south, you see, she can heal herself. And there is a man here in New York who can fly. My father made a list, years ago, of remarkable people like this cheerleader and this man who had special capabilities. He made a list of names of people all over the country who are special.”

Pam felt her heart beating rapidly in her chest. “And what do I have to do with this list?”

“Your name is on this list.”

Pam paused and looked at the peeling paint surrounding the ‘Teamwork’ poster that hung at an odd angle behind her desk. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t handle cheerleaders and lists and men who could fly in New York City. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t something that happened to people. This wasn’t an x-men comic and she wasn’t going to pretend to be a part of some crack Team America. Especially when she was told she had these so-called “powers” by a man with an Indian accent in New York probably hung over from the night before and drunk dialing for a good time. No, this wasn’t something she could handle.

“Pam?”

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“No, you don’t understand! There are people who can harm-“

She hung up with a little more force than necessary, turning around quickly in her chair. She let out a little squeak of surprise when she saw Jim standing in front of her, lightly drumming his fingers on the edge of her desk.

He gave her a small apologetic glance that looked more like a wince than anything.

“Pam, listen, I just wanted to-“

She stood up quickly, smoothing down her skirt with sweaty palms. “Uh, I actually have to go. Can you tell Michael I wasn’t feeling too good?”

She reached under her desk for her purse as Jim watched her with confused eyes. “Yeah, sure, but Pam-“

She stood up quickly and snagged the wrist of her shirt on the keyboard. She pulled it quickly away, causing her to stumble backward and hit into the coat rack. The rack fell to the ground in a loud crash and the entire office went silent. Pam hastily bent over and corrected her mess, hurriedly wiping away her fallen bangs from her face.

Jim had stooped down next to her and was helping her to gather some of the jackets that had fallen.

“Should you be driving? I can give you a ride.”

He looked up at her with wide eyes but she couldn’t make eye contact. She couldn’t think right now, she couldn’t breathe.

“I’m good.”

She slid around him and hastened towards the door, leaving Jim behind her, holding several coats and a confused look.

-

Pam sat cross-legged in the middle of her family room floor, a glass of wine by her knee. She picked it up and took a gentle sip.

She couldn’t get the words of that man out of her mind.

The thing was she had felt differently lately. When she had burned herself on the toaster, the moment before she had felt a sort of power shoot through her. It was like a shock of energy passing clear through, like a shot of lightening on a telephone pole. She had never felt anything like it before.

She set the wine glass down by her side and unfolded her hands in her lap. If this was true, if she could do what he said she could do, then, well-

She closed her eyes and let her hands balance open on her knees. She closed her eyes and cleared her mind. After several moments of feeling nothing she squinted one eye open and looked at her open hand. Nothing.

She let out a sigh and slouched her shoulders forward.

How had she felt that energy before? What had happened?

Her eyes widened slightly when she realized. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes again, except this time, she didn’t keep her mind blank.

She forced herself to relive all the moments she had forced herself to forget over the past six months. She relived Jim’s hands on her hips and his lips on hers. She relived a night filled with periwinkle dresses and broken boys. She relived a memory of a lonely girl, standing in a parking lot telling the man she loved she was glad he was back, glad he could be her friend. She relived lie after lie after lie. She relived the heartbreak and the sorrow.

When she felt the tears washing down her face and the sobs aching in her throat, she cracked open her eyes.

Her mouth formed a small ‘oh’ shape and she felt her hand shake.

In the palm of her hand, was a small ball of what looked to be fire, revolving slowly around.

Maybe she was more special than she had originally thought.