Jim hasn’t figured out all the details yet, but he is seriously impressed. Somehow, Pam has managed to pull off the greatest prank of all time. She’s done it. She’s bested him. He’s not even mad, in fact he’s extremely impressed. He is filled with grudging respect. He always knew she was capable, but this is beyond anything he’s ever imagined. It’s incredible. She’s incredible.

His one note. The one teensy, little thing he would change. Shouldn’t it be Dwight in this hospital bed?

He certainly enjoys it all a lot more when they’re in it together, secret smiles and sparkling eyes as Dwight’s frustrations rise. That’s the usual formula for success. This has certainly broken the mould.

He’s not sure what her missing engagement ring has to do with it either – other than to build his hope up to unfathomable levels that threaten to spill over and shout I’m in love with you at every moment. It’s a bit of a weird choice, but he figures it’s got to be deliberate and will factor into this whole shenanigan somewhere. 

He eyes the girl she’s roped in to this. Is this Isabel? She’s about the only friend that Pam mentions fondly from time to time. She’s giving off a more businesslike vibe than Jim imagined when Pam shared her Isabel stories. She’s pretty, in that obvious way where everyone takes notice. She’s not really Jim’s type. No one is anymore.

Well, that’s wrong. Only one person is. No one else measures up. Technically, he’s kind of still seeing Katy, but that’s a super casual, non-committal type of thing – which is the exact opposite of the kind of guy he is, but he can’t exactly have his type. Not when his type is engaged to some oaf from the warehouse who has no idea how lucky he is.

Jim’s still a little confused as to some of the particulars. The ache of his head adds a far too genuine feel to this whole got-hit-by-a-car story. Surely, he’s just been slipped some sort of sleeping pill type of thing that’s left him a little disoriented. A drug induced hangover of sorts. He wonders if the doctor is a real doctor. He’s not typically attractive enough for those to be, uh, pull-away scrubs?

It seems like he really is in a hospital. He wonders who Pam knows to have gotten her the hook-up for this. Surely, it can’t be easy to just appropriate an entire hospital room. The more he thinks, the more impressed he continues to become. Damn, she has really pulled this whole thing off.

 He wants to hold her hand again. He’s not sure what’s going on with that ring business, but she certainly wasn’t flinching away from him and he wants to take a hold of the moment with both hands – literally.

“Pam,” he whispers, letting a little of dull throb pulsing around his brain seep into his tone for sympathies sake. He reaches out his hand, trying to ignore how pathetic he feels begging for her touch. She relents immediately, but he doesn’t miss the slight apologetic looks that flits over to the maybe-Isabel character.

He focuses everything on memorising the warmth of her hand in his – he could get used to this. Hope flares again, at the missing ring, and he hopes that by some crazy twist of fate, maybe, just maybe, he might be able to…

* * * 

Pam’s certain of two things as Jim shoots her the most endearing puppy-dog look of all time before slipping his fingers into hers once again. First of all, in this moment, Jim has absolutely no idea who Karen is.

She feels like a horrible person, because she can’t quite tamper down the unfettered joy this realisation brings her. It’s quickly followed by acidic guilt, what if he’s really, truly happy with Karen and she’s messing that up for them? She doesn’t linger on the thought. She knows Jim, and the return-from-Stamford version of Jim has not been happy. He’s been on some sort of weird autopilot, which she gets better than just about anyone because that’s been her life with Roy for at least the past couple of years.

The other certainty is that Karen has not yet noticed that Jim does not recognise her. If Pam had to guess, she thinks that Karen assumes that hurt Jim is reaching out to an old, familiar friend as some sort of default coping mechanism. She thinks Karen was seething too much over the friendly handholding that she missed the look of utter confusion that passed over Jim’s face after she brushed her lips over his brow.

Pam’s stomach clenches. She wishes she could just breeze into a hospital room and press her lips to Jim. With the way things have been lately, she’s not sure whether that move would be welcomed or despised. Of course, with this friendly, forgetful Jim, she’s sure she could get away with it. Although, Karen would probably slap her, which would be… reasonable… given the circumstances.

Thinking of the circumstances douses her mind in cold, clarifying water, she’s sitting here quietly thrilled at the thought of a chunk of Jim’s memory disappearing. She’s a terrible person. She needs to focus on making sure he’s okay.

The doctor – and apparently Jim, and maybe also Karen – is oblivious to the layers of tension crackling, hissing and popping throughout the room. “Jim, it’s the 10th of December,” the doctor replies seriously. 

“Oh,” Jim nods, but doesn’t appear to be too distressed by the fact that he’s lost a good chunk of the year. Pam finds her lips curving downwards. She’s seeing in color again, but it’s a mess of movement and flashes and nothing sticks in the frame for long.

She’s so worried about him and what this all means, but apparently he’s approaching this in a carefree nonchalant way that makes her want to worry enough for the both of them.

Karen seems to have noticed that this date thing is a bit of a sticking point. “What date did you think it was?” she demands.

He waves her off with an, “oh, I was a little bit off. It’s no big deal.” Karen is placated by that, but Pam catches the doctors gaze and demands answers.

The doctor shrugs at her. “I’m not too worried at this point in time. Jim’s lucid. I’ll schedule an MRI as a precaution. My bigger concern at present is the cracked pelvis, which will need to be set in a cast. I’ll send someone in shortly to attend to that. The painkillers we’ve given him should sufficiently dull the pain for now.” 

“Will the memories return?” she entreats gently – she can’t decide which answer will bring her more pain. 

If Jim thinks it’s January 3rd, he’s forgotten the booze cruise and the disaster that was setting a date. He’s forgotten their kiss on casino night. He’s forgotten the moment she trampled his heart and her own in the process. He’s forgotten running away to Stamford and leaving her to lick her wounds in insolation.

He’s forgotten moving back, and seeing someone else, and eyeing her coldly at every available moment. He’s forgotten the way she clung to him as he walked back in the door, I’m new here, echoing through the room. He’s forgotten that she kissed him back and memorised the conflicting emotions raging across his face. He’s forgotten that she called off her wedding - for him her mind whispers.

He’s forgotten that he’s changed the path of her life as she once thought it would be. This year has been the most painful of her existence coupled with the most beautiful. She’s grown, she’s been stretched in ways she didn’t think were possible. She doesn’t want to him to forget.

But. But. But. She is beyond terrified that Jim remembering means rejection. Again. He’ll remember that he’s with beautiful, sophisticated and driven Karen. Pam Beesly will dull in comparison. Again. She tries to steel herself in anticipation.   

“Save any other complications, it’s more likely a case of when than if. However, like I said, I’d appreciate an MRI to be sure,” the doctor doesn’t know that he’s effectively signing the death warrant of any hope Pam has. When. The colors dull around the edges. Jim’s memory will return and he’ll know that he wants Karen and that Pam is a bland mess. Her world will return to greys.

Is it sad that she wants to make the most of this injured and vulnerable version of Jim while she has him?

 She tries to focus on Jim and the here and now. Not the impending sense of doom. In the here and the now, he certainly seems glad that she’s around. He’s still gently clasping her hand in his, rhythmically tracing nonsensical shapes with his thumb brushing over the back of her hand.

Pam’s gaze drops to their intertwined hands. She smiles softly and attempts to convince herself that it won’t sting too much when Jim withdraws. She knows that she probably isn’t being too fair to Karen right not, but she doesn’t really care, besides she’s sure that Karen will have him back soon enough.

The doctor slips from the room with a final grunt of acknowledgement. Pam nods her thanks politely at him as he retreats.

Karen looks at their joined hands. Pam can see the cogs turning over in her head as the penny drops. “Jim,” she demands gently. “What did you think the date is?”

He shrugs, giving her that goofy half-smile that usually gets him off the hook for many a thing. Karen turns her gaze on Pam pleadingly. “January,” she mouths softly.

Karen’s face freezes and drops. “We didn’t meet until June,” drops from her lips as she deflates.

“He’ll remember soon,” Pam replies gently as her heart splits in two. She bites back the tears threatening to spill over. She wants to hate Karen, but it’s just so hard sometimes.

Jim meanwhile, glances between the two of them, with much more indifference. His brow pinches and furrows at the genuine emotion painting Pam’s face.  She must see his concern, because she quickly schools herself and smiles softly at him.

Karen watches the interaction with a slight frown. “I’m going to go find some coffee. Do you want one?” it’s a little forced, but it’s a nice gesture nonetheless.

“Tea please,” Pam knows how to accept an olive branch when she’s offered one. Karen nods and slips from the room.

It’s the first time she’s been alone with Jim since Michael slunk into the office and sent her world crashing to pieces around her. She’s overwhelmed with the desire to touch him. She allows herself a moment. Her free hand rises to brush a tuft of his gorgeous unruly hair back from his forehead. She feathers her fingers along his temple as he releases a contented sigh.

“What happened?” Jim asks and he’s kind of grinning at her a lot for someone who has just been hit by a car. It’s a little off-putting. He really doesn’t appear to be taking it all very seriously, but it wouldn’t surprise her if this undercurrent of humor was his coping mechanism. 

“You won’t believe it,” she mutters dryly. He chuckles, the sound brimming with an unspoken try me. “Michael hit you with his car,” she grits out. “I’m going to kill him,” she adds after a moment, more to herself.

“Okay,” Jim chirps. She eyes him shrewdly. He’s taking this far too lightly. He gives her that lopsided grin that never fails to set her pulse racing. It’s amazing the things she notices now – ever since she’s stopped hiding from her feelings behind Roy.

Karen reappears in the doorway and this prompts Jim to ask the question that’s been burning in the back of his mind since she showed up earlier. He wants to meet Pam’s friends. He’s kind of impressed with her acting, well, both their acting to be honest.

“Is that Isabel?” Jim murmurs, just loud enough for her to hear. His warm breath, a gentle puff against the side of her neck, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. She tamps down a shiver at the sensation. His words, however, turn her to stone.

Her jaw drops open and she eyes him carefully. “What?”

He punctuates his words carefully, a gleam in his eye like he’s got it all figured out. “Is that your friend Isabel? Did you enlist her to help you pull off all this?” he gestures around the room with flourish – slightly muted flourish, because you know, injured.

“You think this a prank?” she gapes. He shoots her an exaggerated wink. “Oh, Jim,” she breathes, her eyes suddenly very serious. There’s no hint of teasing, no glimmer of you got me. She’s looking at him with such concern and for the first time since he figured it all out, he feels the idea slipping away from him.

“Are you telling me Michael really hit me with his car?”