Subtlety and basic etiquette were two things that were definitely off the menu that night at the Scranton branch of Chili's. Usually Jim took in Michael's well meaning – yet offensive more often than not – efforts at emceeing the 'Dundies' with a bemused and slightly forced good humour. He saw it like a trip to the dentist, something to be tolerated and avoided if possible and then forgotten for another year. Of course, there was the added bonus of another opportunity for entertainment at Dwight's expense, which meant that the evening would pay for itself in spades.

Tonight was different, though. And it wasn't just the increasing passive offensiveness of Michael's presentation speeches, that was to be expected after all. It wasn't Dwight's obnoxious presence as DJ, that was also to be expected.

The evening had been going fine, perfectly normal – as normal as things got with such an eclectic group of people as the Dunder Mifflin staff- until it all turned sour, at least for Jim if no one else. It started to go south when Pam walked in with Roy. Together. A couple. Casually they had walked into the area reserved for the Michael Scott Party and seated themselves at Jim's table, an outward picture perfect eventual bride and groom to be. Jim didn't like it at all. He tried to ignore the hurt feelings promptly boiling up inside him, the over familiar feeling that attacked all his organs and muscles relentlessly whenever he saw Pam and Roy together. He even tried to ignore them as much as possible but with a vague coconut scent catching his nose when he turned his head, floating off from her hair no doubt, well, she was just impossible to ignore. That scent drove all kind of summery pictures into his fantasies; Pam lying under a hot sun on a sandy beach with a pure white pina colada in her hand and himself sprawled out beside her.

Jim wasn't used to the feelings that were consuming him; frustration, jealousy, worry. And anger – an emotion he truly detested. He hated the feeling of anger, hated feeling helpless against it. He didn't enjoy being even mildly vexed at any given situation, it went in complete polar opposite to his boyish, warm hearted nature. But there it was, piercing at him unexpectedly. And he knew he was was defenceless against it, that it was born of his frustration with the closeness between Pam and himself – close in so many ways yet she was so inaccessible that it physically hurt him. Things had quietly changed in the enjoyable dynamic they shared, and he had been left hurt and confused. Slowly he had begun to see how she had been withdrawing from their friendship, becoming quieter, less open, less Pam. On top of that, the niggling feelings he had buried at the back of his mind for so long about Roy were fresh at the centre of his brain again, and with what he thought he had seen in the lunch room, he was kicking himself inside over the sheer worry that she could be in a bad situation. The trouble was though, as he well knew, that things had changed.

He no longer felt comfortable around her. And that was different. Maybe he was imagining it, but he sensed a hostile line had been drawn between them. Bricks were being laid, part of herself that was being walled up away from not only himself, but the whole world. There were so many emotional darts at play. How was he to go about finding out what he wanted to know from her – that she was okay, that she was safe, that Roy wasn't hurting her. He knew that he would have to tread extremely cautiously so that he didn't cause either of two possibilities that turned his blood cold. He could lose her friendship through his well meaning interference and that would be catastrophic for him. Having her in his life, even only as a friend was better than life without her. Secondly, he was very afraid that any interference from him could indeed put her in harms way and that was unacceptable to him. He would not see her hurt for anything. So that night, he found himself simultaneously trying to ignore them both, and at the same time he couldn't stop himself from mentally shadowing Roy's every movement towards his fiancee.

Throughout the evening while the anguish inside Jim raged against itself unbeknown to anyone else, Michael continued on blissfully self unaware and Roy set about making an unnecessarily loud point of showing his displeasure with the whole thing, bristling about being brought to the Dundies under 'duress' and reiterating what a jackass Michael was several times. It made for an uncomfortable evening.

Pam looked lovely that night, Jim hadn't been able to help noticing. He loved the way her hair was gleaming under the soft lighting, her spiral curls bouncing gently around her cheekbones. She was still wearing her office skirt and cardigan. He wondered if it was the out-of-office environment that was favouring her all the more that evening, the same way a rose looked beautiful standing in a pot of dirt on a window ledge, but a rose in the wild was exquisite.

Around half an hour passed before Roy had decided they had had enough of the dumb and dumber Michael-Dwight combination and then he stood up carelessly with a look at Pam that Jim couldn't interpret but Pam obviously did, as she reached for her jacket without a word and got up from her seat. Jim debated whether or not to throw out some joke or wise remark to get a laugh out of Pam before she left but he hadn't even finished his thought when Roy simply clutched her by the elbow, making Jim wince once more, and then they were gone.

She had barely said a few words to Jim in the short time she had been at his table. Roy hadn't acknowledged Jim's presence after an initial grunt and nod when they first sat down. Several times though, Jim sensed Roy's hard brown eyes drilling into him and he turned, catching a glare on the boorish mans face. Pam, on the other hand, seemed to be trying to repress the night with tequila, and had been quietly enjoying the mad performance that Michael was putting on. He'd really been hoping that Pam would come solo that evening and was definitely put out that Roy had shown up too. All night he had lain awake, thinking of her, worrying about her, about what happened in the lunch room the other day.

He'd suspected for some time that things weren't going right for her. Hell, he'd even tried to offer her his time the other day, to offer her a chance to talk to him. To offer her a friend. She had brushed him off dismissively – she had run. It wasn't only their friendship that was changing, she was changing, withering away in plain sight. Her crazy laughter that same day at his office hijinks, how she had laughed and laughed as though she would never stop, when anyone who really took the time to look could see the sad eyes above her laughing mouth. He knew her better than anyone in the office – except Roy, of course – he knew that something essentially Pam was wearing down, Pam with her kind heart and love of fun, Pam that he thought of as his best friend. He couldn't bear it.

Then, after she had left with Roy and he'd lethargically prodded at his cajun chicken and moved rice from one side of his plate to the other and back again, he had been surprised to see her return to the restaurant alone just minutes later. His first thought was that something had happened between her and Roy, but all she said as she resat herself at his table was that she had decided to stay after all, and he watched in amusement as she absently slid the beer that he had only just ordered and had been looking forward to all day across the table and took an almighty swallow that drained almost half the glass. It was funny that she was so different when she was without Roy by her side, she was humorous and talkative and fun, less restrained in general. That night was no exception, yet she had left with Roy and come back to the restaurant a different person. Something was offbeat about her sitting there at the table, Jim noticed, something in the way she leaned forward in the chair stiffly, her back straight as a rod in complete opposition to the don't care-ish way she had stolen his drink. He hadn't seen this side of her before, and as she loudly cheered for Ping of all things; he wasn't sure if it was tensions with Roy or something else or if she was just cutting loose but she was definitely already half in the bag and he surveyed the state of play with some frustration, as the opportunity to talk to her without Roy or their zany co-workers around seemed to slip through his hands. So they talked about simple things, funny things, the beer, the margaritas, Michael's attraction to Ryan and whether Dwight could be fooled into believing that he had a secret admirer in Washington who wanted to meet him. Jim thought he could pull it off. Pam nodded at him agreeably, but from the vacant expression she wore it was clear that her tolerance for even light hearted chat was at its lowest and her thoughts were far away.

-TO-

However, Jim later saw his moment when she half heartedly mumbled that she'd get a ride home with Angela, and he took it.

"Hey," he laughed. "I can drive you home. We'll listen to bad music and knock down old peoples mail boxes and you can puke in the back seat."

That got a smile out of her. She had definitely had a lot to drink and while she wasn't falling down drunk, she hadn't eaten anything as far as he had seen and she was tipsy. Her cheeks had steadily reddened and her eyes had sagged and she just looked plain exhausted by the nights end. Jim wound up shepherding her to the car after a close call with both a kerb and Dwights' Trans-Am, holding her lightly by her arm and steering her out of the path of the exiting vehicles. It brought a flush to his own cheeks, being a distinctively protective action towards her that he hadn't anticipated. Once again he imagined if that was what it would be like if she was his girlfriend, walking side by side home, looking out for each other and all the ingrained protective instincts inside him engaged and nothing could ever hurt her as long as he was by her side.

He got her into the car by way of holding the passenger door open and positioning himself behind her – he didn't trust that she might not spill herself out onto the gravel. Yet she slid into the front seat with a certain elegance- a certain feminine elegance – that did not go unnoticed by him. But it was the sound of her laughter, tinkling out into the night air and to his ears as he was pulling his own door open, it was that sound that made him pause and a little smile wormed its way across his lips.

"What?" he said, amused, as he lowered himself into the drivers seat. She laughed again and yanked her thumb behind her.

"You are a slob, Jim Halpert." she said mockingly, giggling again at the sight of the backseat strewn with styrofoam cups and straws and stray fast food wrappers. He rolled his eyes in jest, looking back there himself.

"Gives my Mom something to do when she comes to visit." he grinned playfully. Pam righted herself and stared at him, confused.

"Huh?"

Jim laughed and pointed at the mess. After a moments silence between them, Pam started giggling merrily again, a light, silly sound that thrilled him and then he was laughing along with her.

They drove back in relative good humor. Pam grew quieter as they drew closer to the street where the little house she shared with Roy stood. Jim also became quiet, but unlike Pam, who was overtired and slightly inebriated, his own change in demeanor was down to his indecision about what to do. He had thought about ways to approach the conversation with her, he'd even found the words he wanted to use but imagining something and actually doing it were two entirely different planets. And now that the opportunity had come, his head had emptied of anything he had planned to say to her.

It was as they neared Pam's house that Jim suddenly slowed the car and carefully came to a stop a little way down the street from her turn. She looked at him with some bewilderment; and, he thought, a little bit of fear and how that hurt him, to see that fleeting moment of fright flicker over her face – as though she was afraid of being alone with him.

"So, are you driving me home then, Halpert?" she asked him, glancing perplexedly towards the turn. Jim hesitated, resting his hands on the steering wheel and looked at her closely.

"Um, yes. But hey," he began. "Have you got a minute? I kind of wanted to talk to you about something."

"Ohhh so serious." she joked, sitting up straight and giving Jim her best full mock-attention.

Jim looked at her delicate face – a face he considered the prettiest he'd ever see - and his resolve almost fell to pieces. He was a patient man, obviously, he'd sat through years of watching Pam and Roy play happy Mr and Mrs to be. He'd thought and thought about this over and over the last few days. The very last thing he wanted to ever do was hurt her. Yet he felt like he was really seeing her for the first time in a long time – things he hadn't acknowledged, hadn't wanted to see. She looked so small and vulnerable perched in the passenger seat. Her eyes cast downwards now, the bony tips of her fingers nervously tracing around the buttons on her coat. When did she get so thin? Jim frowned.

"Are you okay, Pam?" he said softly, biting his lip. Instantly she sobered up, stiffening against the backrest. She did not look at him.

"I mean," he prodded gently when she didn't answer. "Really okay?"

The following silence between them was awkward, and Jim felt like the temperature in the car had just dropped several degrees. Her skinny fingers were still playing with the buttons of her coat, her eyes low and unfocused. She wasn't saying anything and he began to worry. He was lost in the situation, torn between desperately wanting to help her, and fear that he may hurt her in trying to help her. But it was her eyes that really frightened him, eyes that were no longer lively nor warm, eyes that held a complete desolation that brought reality smashing down around him. Any illusions that he had had about her flew away. He had thought she was unhappy. He had thought she was in a bad situation. He was wrong, completely wrong. Seeing her then, unmoving, subdued, so defeated – he had been wrong all along. This ran deeper than plain unhappiness. Pam was in pain, she was hurting deeply. How could he have been so blind as to not have seen this before? He saw her everyday. And there she was, and she needed a friend. Whatever he had expected to find when he started out, it wasn't this. Something was obviously very wrong.

Slowly, cautiously Jim reached out and put his hand on top of hers. Almost right away she stopped her circling of the buttons and her fingers stilled.

"Oh, Pam." Jim remarked quietly. "Your fingers feel like ice." Brushing a thumb sympathetically over the top of her hand, he looked at her with a pang of heartache. There was no reaction from Pam, but he heard the ghost of a breath escape her. She didn't move her hand out from under his. Nor did she lift her head, but her breathing became fast and jerky, as though the air was painfully scraping against her throat. Jim sat patiently yet restlessly, hoping that she would read in the silence that he was trying to help her and then maybe she would talk to him. All night if she needed.

He had expected her to pull away from him, but she didn't and so he rubbed her hand, his own heart beating too fast, his fingers quivering above hers.

"Hey," he said. "Talk to me."

Still she did not respond, and he took everything in from head to toe with a worried eye; hunched shoulders, lowered head, her curls, now that they weren't under the orange-white lights of the restaurant, were no longer luscious but stringy and lay flatly around her face. Her bone-white cheeks looked cold and ravaged under her face powder, as if life had given her far too great a burden. It was true that people often see only what they want to see through their own life lens, and he suddenly wanted to smash his face into the dashboard. This was Pam. He loved her – he couldn't deny it to himself, he loved her more than any other girl he'd known. So why hadn't he seen this coming?

Because he hadn't wanted to.

And so because of his blindness he had let her down and there she was next to him in the passenger seat, but she wasn't really there, she was inside herself and far away, retreated into a place where she heard his words as though they had travelled a great distance to reach her ears. A short sound, something between a sigh and a grunt escaped him.

"It's okay." he said soothingly. He didn't know what else to say. Then he heard a faint sniffle and his heart shattered. Unplugging his seatbelt, he instinctively leaned over to take her in his arms.

The tips of his fingers barely brushed her shoulder before she was moving, shrugging his hands off. The silence was louder then, muting the words he could have said, wanted to say.

"Don't." she muttered, pressing herself against the door.

"God," he said, astounded. "God, Pam, what is it? What's wrong?"

Then she was moving quickly, her hands suddenly becoming limber as she thumbed at the buckle, yanking the seatbelt off. She didn't say a word as she clambered out of the car.

"Wait, Pam!" he called, jerking the handle so hard it snapped back and pinched his finger a good one before he got the door open and hurried after her. "Wait up!"

He was barely conscious of the fact that it was pretty late and his voice was travelling loudly in the cool air. She was aware of it though and turned back to him, her hands raised up. Thrown by the gesture – it was pretty clear to him it was a stay back gesture – he stopped where he was, ten or so feet away from her.

"Please, Jim." she pleaded, and then he saw the tears falling on her cheeks shining in the moonlight. "Please." she said in a small, quivering voice and abruptly turned around.

He almost chased after her as she started walking away up the street, almost, but what stopped him cold behind her was not that she was begging him to stay back, but the tiny yet very perceptible wellspring of fear underneath her words. Then he saw the wildness in her darting eyes, scanning all around her, flying over him, past him, on to the houses on the left and repeatedly returning to the road leading to her home.

"Pam?" he said, much more quietly. "Please just stop and talk to me."

"I can't." she exploded breathlessly. "Please, oh god I'm sorry. Please you have to go now."

"Pam, please."

Her eyes flickered left and right and back to the turn leading to her house, but not to him, she did not look at him. "Please go."

"I'm here." he told her, his chest throbbing. He could see the muscles of her face and throat working, desperately trying to hold back further tears. She blinked at him and turned back towards her street.

"Pam?" He called, making her spin around again. Now the fat tears were falling down her cheeks.

"Please, Jim." She repeated, shooting a desperate glance towards her house. "Please, go."

"Night or day. Pam." he said kindly. "I'm here, night or day."

She looked like a desolate child lost in the darkness, so small and alone. He stood split with indecision. Finally he made to step towards her, when he heard her whisper a thank you as she spun around and briskly walked herself home.

Jim stood for a second and then followed her quietly, wanting to see she got indoors safely. He watched the tiny shaking silhouette of the woman he loved so much unlock her front door and step inside, shutting him out.