"Hey, how was your weekend?" Jim asks on Monday morning.

"Good," she says. "Short. How was yours?"

"Not bad," he says. "Hey, I texted you Friday night, did you get it? I think my phone might be on the fritz."

"Oh!" she says. She can't believe she forgot -- as soon as he says it, she remembers it buzzing on the bedtable as Roy moved inside her, hooked a hand under her knee. She can feel herself blushing. "Yeah, I did, sorry, I was. Asleep."

"Oh," he says. "Okay."

"Okay?" she says.

"Yeah," he says. "Um, I'm gonna go get some coffee."

**

Thursday afternoon, Pam sneaks out while Jim's in the bathroom, grabs her coat and runs down to the warehouse.

"Hey," says Roy, surprised, when he sees her.

"Hey," she says, "Can I have the keys? I have to run to the store."

"Sure," he says. "They're in my locker. You know the combination."

"Thanks!" she says and stands on her toes to kiss him quickly.

She goes through two yellow lights on her way there and back, so as not to use up all of her break, and the can of Coke is cold in her lap.

She tosses the keys back to Roy on the way out that evening.

"Hey, what did you have to get, anyway?" he asks as she rolls down the window.

"Oh," she says. "Tampons," then wonders why she lied. Well, it's not a lie, she did get tampons too. The other reason would just be way too hard to explain. He wouldn't really care anyway.

**

Pam's aunt, the one who works at a travel agency, sent them a giant envelope stuffed so full of travel brochures for the honeymoon it could barely fit in the mailbox. Pam's spent a lot of time in the evenings sorting through them; she kind of wants to go everywhere, but there's money to think about, and time, and places Roy wouldn't want to go, and places she especially wants to go, so the no-pile gets bigger and the maybe-pile gets smaller.

They've been going back and forth on Hawaii vs. Mexico for weeks now. Pam's heard that you can swim under actual waterfalls in Hawaii, which sounds way cooler than going somewhere she doesn't even speak the language, but one of Roy's friends went to Cancun for spring break one year and came home proclaiming it awesome.

"Mexico sure is going to be sweet, huh, Pam?" Roy says, squeezing her shoulder when they're out with people, and Pam rolls her eyes. She keeps leaving the Hawaii brochure on Roy's bedtable or in the visor of the truck so it falls in his lap when he opens it.

"Very funny," he says, and tosses it on her lap. Pam bites her thumbnail and grins.

"Oh, hey," she says on Saturday afternoon, "I was looking at airfares to Hawaii at work the other day. They were looking pret-ty great. Just wondering, do you want an aisle seat or a window seat when I book them?"

Roy's watching some action movie on tv and it takes him a second to respond, frowning over at her.

"Look, I don't want to go to fucking Hawaii, okay?"

Pam's halfway through folding a towel and she freezes, looking at him.

"Pam--" Roy starts, when she puts it down and walks out of the room. "Come on, Pam, I'm sorry," he calls after her. She slams the bedroom door, hard.

**

Darryl and Roy and the rest of the warehouse guys sign the papers on a Monday. Pam knows because Roy makes her come down at lunchtime and they have beer in celebration and if nobody really looks at her, at least they don't mention that her name isn't on the sheet.

Roy's in a good mood on the way home, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel.

"Hey!" he says. "What's the name of that new place you like? You wanna get dinner?"

"Oh!" she says, blinking. "Yeah, sure." Roy puts on the turn signal.

"I feel like we did something good today," he says, glancing over at her. "You know?" Pam smiles, and after a minute he reaches over and touches her knee.

There's a basketball game on the TVs at the restaurant, so Roy watches that while they eat. Pam chews and swallows and watches the commercials and flips her phone open and shut to see if she's gotten any messages.

"Hey," says Pam, on their way out. "You want me to drive?" His face is flushed from his drinks and he shrugs and digs in his pocket for the keys.

"Yeah, you'd probably better," he says, and she walks around to the driver's side and climbs up into the cab and that's another Monday over.

**

Jan shows up on Wednesday morning with about seven impressive looking men in black suits. She doesn't stop to say hello to Pam like she usually does.

"Michael," she says. "Conference room. Now."

This is bad, this is bad, this is bad is all Pam can think. She can feel Jim watching her. Inside the conference room, Michael gets very loud for a minute and then all the blinds click closed one by one.

The door opens after ten minutes and Michael comes out, followed by Jan and some of the men. She's never seen him look like this before, and Jim gives her a look as he turns his chair around.

"Um," he says, and has to try again louder. "Can I have everyone's attention, please. I, um, I have an announcement to make." His voice is shaky, and when he opens his mouth again, nothing comes out.

"Michael," says Jan.

"I can't, Jan," he says, and even from here Pam can see that his eyes are red. "I can't."

Jan steps forward and raises her voice.

"Due to the unionization of Dunder Mifflin Scranton, this entire branch is being shut down effective two weeks from today."

The place explodes into noise.

"WHAT?" says Dwight.

"A union?" Stanley says. "I did not join any union."

Jan has to raise her voice more to be heard over everyone.

"It's come to the attention of the corporate offices that the majority of the organizers are currently located in the warehouse, but this company has a strict, well-publicized no tolerance policy for organized labor. It's not the Dunder Mifflin way and, and will not be accomodated."

"Why are we being punished for something the warehouse did?" Angela asks loudly.

"Legally there's no distinction between warehouse and the office," Jan says. "And members of the warehouse team were not the only ones to sign the incorporation statement."

Everyone gets suddenly quiet, glancing around at each other, trying to figure out who's to blame.

"Live better, work union!" says Creed from his corner, and the room explodes again. Pam sits very still behind her desk.

Dwight and Michael are both talking frantically and simultaneously at Jan, Stanley is grumbling loudly that this had better not affect his retirement plan, Phyllis is crying, and Oscar is repeating over and over that he cannot believe this.

Jim is looking straight at her.

**

It's a bizarre day. Pam walks out at four because she can't see a reason to stay and sits on the curb and calls her mom and cries. After she hangs up she walks over to the warehouse, where everyone is standing around outside looking as shell-shocked as she feels. She knows Jan and Michael and the suit men went down to the warehouse afterward and she heard Michael's lock click after he came back.

Pam finds Roy and goes to stand by him without saying anything.

"This is fucked up, man," says Lonny, like it's the 500th time he's said it. "They can't do this to us. Can they?" No one answers him.

"I want to go home," Pam says, low and shaky, and Roy looks at her.

"Yeah," he says, and they leave without saying goodbye.

"What are we going to do now?" she says when they get home and he spreads his arms wide, then lets them drop.

"Hell if I know," he says, too loudly, and she just stares at him till he closes his eyes and shakes his head.

"We'll figure something out, okay?" he says, and takes a step in her direction, pulls her toward him. Pam presses her face into his shirt, breathes in the smell of detergent and sweat and tries to let this make her feel okay.