A/N- This is the sequel story to "Burning Rivers", picking up where the original story left off. I just had to see what happens to Jim and Pam after the accident. This wont be typical JAM fluff- there's always got to be some drama. Enjoy.

-S.

Oh, and I don't own The Office either, dar.

"1..2...3...4..."

Pam felt sweat bead on her forehead.

"1...2...3...4..."

Her arms began to shake.

"C'mon Pam, keep it going. 1...2..."

Pam tuned out the voice, concentrating intently. She was propping herself up between two balancing beams, using her arms to support herself. She was waging a war to get her weakened right leg to support her weight. And right now, she found- she was losing.

It had nearly been a month since she and Jim had been in the accident; the trip to New York had started with such happiness- an opportunity of a new beginning- but ended up with them colliding with a frozen tree limb and surviving a terrifying accident.

They had removed the errant piece of Jim's car from the soft tissue of Pam's thigh- making her "very lucky," as the doctors told her. Sometimes she felt lucky- she and Jim had survived, she didn't lose her leg, and she was now almost 8 weeks pregnant with Jim's baby.

That fact made the monotonous and difficult hours of physical therapy almost bearable.

And then she'd have her bad days.

"Just one more set Pam." The new voice startled her.

Pam's unfocused eyes settled on Jim's face, sitting her, looking up at her as she struggled to keep her weight on her right leg. She shook her head slightly, feeling a rage of emotions burn her chest as she focused on the physical therapist at the end of the beams- egging her on. Rick, his name was. She knit her brow together and thought of all the nasty names she'd rather call him. He was too short, not even her height with a dark tan and bleached teeth- he looked more like a beach instructor than a physical therapist.

The bad days where when she didn't want to get out of bed in the morning; when the idea of trying to walk seemed unfeasible- like a distant dream she would never grasp. She would be angry- at Jim, at herself, at fate for forcing her to endure this.

She took another step- limping as she felt her muscles burn and tighten in her thigh. She had started her physical therapy a week after she was released from the hospital; at first she thought the whole idea was ludicrous- she thought she'd be able to run straight from the hospital home. But when she was released she remembered the searing mellow burn, the twisting hum that remained. She was stiff and sore, and Jim ended up carrying her from the taxi to her second level apartment when she couldn't navigate the crutches .

Another step- 1...2...3...4... She thought in her head. But she found that her mind wandered elsewhere when she was doing her stupid walk.

"It's ugly." She had complained when she first removed the bandages that covered the sutures. Her leg was swollen and red; the place where the shrapnel ate into her leg was now a healing scar- held together with stitches that covered a good 4 inches of her thigh. She was forced to light weight sweatpants that she had pulled down around her knees to inspect the damaged on her couch.

Jim had knelt down, softly running a finger over the area; but never touching it. He tilted his head to one side, the bruises on his face and hands had settled into a soft yellow color.

"You know," he started, dragging the finger up her hip to gently tickle the soft skin of her stomach. Pam tried to squirm out of his touch. "I think scars are pretty sexy…" he murmured jokingly, now running his thumb in circles around Pam's naval through her shirt. "We can make up some wicked stories to tell. Tell me, have you ever been assaulted by a beet wielding bear?" He chuckled as she rolled her eyes and gripped his hand to pull him next to her on the couch.

He had wrapped his arms gently around her shoulders to fold her into a hug, smiling into her forehead.

"Jim?"

"Hmm?"

"This is going to suck, isn't it?" She asked very seriously.

"What?" She heard his confused voice without looking at him. "The baby? Yeah, let's hope it dosen't end up with my nose." He joked, trying to lighten the moment.

She decided to drop it then, remembering the little one that was cohabitating in her stomach. She just sighed, and worried about the road ahead.

"Pam, one more set." She heard Sergeant Rick scold her. She was exhausted; she didn't want to do anymore sets. She hating him. Hated him with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

She heaved a sigh- keeping the darkness of her mood at bay as she took another step forward with the hope that she'll reach the too tan Rick and send her right foot flying and kicking him right in the eggs.

'Soon', she thought as she counted down in her head, 1...2...3...4...