Most Saturday mornings, Jim woke up to the scent of bacon and coffee wafting through the apartment he shared with Pam, but not this Saturday. She'd barely left the bed since Wednesday due to some sort of killer migraine, and he was starting to get concerned. Pam had insisted she didn't need a doctor, but she would insist that from her deathbed. Knowing this, Jim had scheduled a doctor's appointment earlier in the week. He just hadn't told her yet.

"How're you feeling, babe?" Jim asked, brushing his teeth. Pam only moaned in response. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Come on, get up, we're going to the doctor," Jim said, hoping that if he didn't say it like it was a big deal, she wouldn't overreact.

"Jim," She groaned, only able to sit up for a second before collapsing back onto the bed.

"Come on, Beesly, the appointment's already made," Jim told her, sitting on the edge of the bed. She was going to the doctor, this wasn't up for discussion. He went to their dresser and pulled out an outfit for her, tossing it onto the bed.

"These don't match," she told him, the sickness in her voice making everything sound like a whine. Or maybe she was just whining. Jim tossed her a different pair of pants.

"Do you want breakfast?" He asked.

"No," she shook her head as she peeled her pajama bottoms off.

"Have you been eating all week while I've been gone?"

"Jim, I've been sick." Pam pointed out, not wanting to have the discussion she knew was coming.

"Pam, you've got to eat-"

"To keep my strength up." Pam finished his sentence with a hint of mocking in her tone. She always lost her appetite when ill, and this wasn't the first time she'd received that lecture from Jim.

"You finish getting ready, I'll make breakfast." He offered.

"I'm not hungry!" she called after him as he shut the door, but she knew it was worthless. The lengths Jim would go to to make her feel better when she was sick were seemingly endless. She let the cool water of the shower rinse the sweat and germs off of her before changing into the clothes Jim had selected. By the time she met him in the kitchen, there wasn't enough time for her to eat breakfast, and she smirked to herself. Maybe she was going to have to go to the doctors, but she wasn't going to upset her stomach on the way there. They got in just as the nurse called Pam's name and led them to their examination room. Jim held Pam's hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of her palm.

"I wish the lights in here weren't so bright." She said.

"Sorry babe. Hopefully we'll be out quick."

The male doctor on call then came in, recognizing Pam as the patient.

"So, just a bad migraine, huh?" He asked.

"Yeah," they both answered.

"How long?" He asked.

"Since Wednesday."

"Hm... Any other symptoms?"

"Fever and loss of appetite," Jim answered for Pam.

"Any blood in your urine?"

"Well, I assumed it was my period, but yes." Pam said. She was on the pill, but had still dismissed it.

"Well, we'll take a urine sample and an MRI and then we'll go from there. May I feel your abdomen?"

Pam knew that the doctor was only asking for medical reasons, and braced herself for the doctor's touch, but Jim had other plans.

"Maybe just the urine sample and the MRI will be enough," he said, moving to stand in front of Pam.

"But maybe it won't." The doctor said. "Please, this will only take a moment."

Although begrudgingly, Jim stepped aside, and the examination was brief, as promised. Jim Halpert wasn't a very good poker player, but he could tell when someone was hiding something, and this doctor had something brewing behind his eyes. When Pam left the room for her urinalysis, he stopped the doctor.

"So, what does it look like?" Jim asked casually, not wanting to let on how nervous he was.

"Time will tell, Mr. Halpert."

Jim bit his lip. "Listen, Pam is my fiance, and if there's something wrong, I need to know."

"You'll know just as soon as we know, Mr. Halpert." the doctor said before leaving the room to prep the MRI.

Jim rolled his eyes, angry and dissatisfied with the evasive answers. And why did the doctor insist on calling him "Mr. Halpert?" Before he could stew anymore, Pam walked back into the room.

"Hey, sweetheart. How're you feeling?" Jim asked gently, uncrossing his legs and inviting Pam to perch herself in his lap.

"Better," she answered, wrapping her arms around Jim and embracing him, hiding her face in his chest, her body language clearly displaying her discomfort.

"I know, sweetheart. We'll be in and out quick."

"You don't know that," she pointed out, though it was more in jest than bitterness.

"You're right, I don't. I was just saying it to make you feel better."

Smiling a bit, she kissed his lips sleepily. Jim smiled as well. When they hadn't known what was making Pam ill, they'd refrained from getting too close to each other, neither party wanting Jim infected as well. The doctor hadn't said anything about a virus, so Pam decided the coast was clear. Jim was too busy kissing her to disagree. They broke apart just in time for a nurse to come to lead them to Pam's MRI room. Jim held her hand as long as he could, and they were both physically pained when he couldn't go any further, but the exam was quick, and they were now left waiting for the results. Jim was more anxious than Pam, though Pam expected this. He could be shot and he'd still ask if she was okay first. She had to place her hand on his leg to keep it from shaking.

"Jim, calm down. They're going to give me a prescription for some antibiotics and I'm going to be fine in three days."

"You don't know that." Jim said, his head in his hands.

"You're right, I don't. I was just saying it to make you feel better. She said cheekily, quoting him from earlier. Jim smirked.

"It shouldn't be allowed to be this cute when you're sick."

"Well I'm glad my personality is making up for my appearance."

"Oh, shush, you."

"I didn't even put on makeup."

"Well, you're sick."

"But still."

" ?" The doctor called. Once spotting them, he opened his door. "Come have a seat in my office."