A/N: This is my first fanfic, I plan to add a lot of chapters and a lot of different viewpoints on characters, so this is just a taste of what I am hopefully going to create. Also, I don't own the Office, so don't sue me.
Disclaimer: If you're a fan of Roy Anderson, you probably won't be interested in following this story.
"I am going to kill Jim Halpert."
They were just words. Palpable, with real meaning cemented in their construction, those words were uttered from the mouth of Roy Anderson on that night not but a year prior. The actions which followed the simple utterance were now faintly on the minds of the staff at Dunder-Mifflin. That which had transpired was tucked away in their collective memories. While harrowing; those involved had moved on to better things, or at least those who still worked the struggling paper company. Little was known of Roy Anderson, and what became of him after his last meeting with Pam.
Most could remember what had happened the first time Pam had ended their relationship. The steady, drunken spiral out of control until, he quite literally hit rock bottom, after receiving his first DUI. His mug-shot explained everything. Wild, feral eyes coupled with a mess of unkempt hair. Roy was the epitome of a walking disaster. But, he had managed to pull himself from that dark place. He had been determined to regain Pam's affection, to restore status quo prior the wedding. Yet, he slipped into familiar patterns, and it was all too familiar that the words were said while he was under the influence of alcohol, even after the fact he had completely obliterated shot glasses and bar stools with his brother Kenny inside Poor Richards. Despite what he claimed and spoke of later, that he would never have acted on it and his apologizing to Jim, a question is raised. How easy is it to slip into your old ways? How long would it be until Roy returned to that dark place?
He had slipped back into his past behaviors as quickly as he had emerged from them. He spent the first few days at home, with little comfort besides the bottle. Kenny would stop in from time to time, to offer the brotherly assistance he felt obligated to. This was one of those days.
His door creaked open, it shown signs of wear, much like the owner of the apartment. His brother, Kenny emerged through carrying a newspaper. It was tossed onto the shoddy coffee table in front of Roy. His apartment was rather run down, a man's touch if you will. There was a pile of dirty dishes, noticeable crumbs, and a general mess prevalent. Roy's priorities did not involve cleaning up after himself, or keeping his apartment clean. He was the poster boy for the man who felt he lost everything.
"Central Sales is hiring, you should check into it." Kenny referred to Central Sales Warehouse Corporation, located in Scranton. It was modest, the job description much like what he had done at Dunder-Mifflin. The pay was a bit less, and the perks were a spot shoddy, but it was a job. The ad itself was circled in highlighter, which garnered the attention of Roy's glance, at least for a moment.
"Yeah, I guess. I'll get around to it." Roy's voice was riddled with despair; he was still milling over all he had done in the past year. He had jumped from job to job, but settled in with unemployment checks as of late. He scraped together enough to pay rent and buy food, but he always had the spare funds to get a twelve pack.
"I'm serious Roy." Kenny's tone had firmed up a bit. There was compassion in his brother's eyes, but Roy did not, would not notice. He leaned back, while his arm rose to drain the remaining drops of the beer that he was drinking.
"I know man, don't worry about it. I'll look into it." These were half-truths at best. He didn't want his brother to look after him, and he probably would look at the advertisement. But, Roy probably wouldn't try to call, not now.
"If you need anything, just, give me a call man." His brother was slightly gruff about it, but he had been watching Roy's self-destructive behaviors for awhile now, and he was fed up. The thump of the closed door alerted Roy he was alone again. He rose to his feet, shuffling over to the refrigerator, removing another beer, he then settled back down onto his couch.
His thoughts shifted that night. How had he fallen into this, again? He picked his brain for answers, but it was difficult for him to admit that he had been at fault for this entire circumstance. The extremeness of his thoughts increased with each bottle he knocked back. His hand drifted up to his forehead, rubbing his temples slightly. A scapegoat, that was all he wanted, no needed. He pondered for hours, mumbling bittersweet memories of the way things used to be. Suddenly, he had an epiphany, an answer to his all his troubles. His arm flashed out across the coffee table, clearing it of the ten plus empty bottles which had been placed there. They crashed onto the ground, some of them snapping at the neck spreading bits of glass along the crusty tiles of his kitchen floor. He was not concerned with the clean up though. Thoughts raced in his brain, images flashing. Roy began to remember all of those times he would make his appearance at the reception desk, only to notice Jim scurrying away. He had always dismissed it, he thought he was gay. Then the mentioning of Jim's crush on Pam came out, and still he was not particularly disturbed by it. It wasn't until she had mentioned the kiss, and then he thought back to the diner. He had asked her if she would pursue Halpert, and she had said no. He had always found that odd. Perhaps, she had hid something from him their entire time at Dunder-Mifflin. His brain was heavily influenced by the alcohol, his thoughts barely coherent. She could have been cheating on him the entire time for all he knew. Roy's fists tightened, as he slammed them down on the table. His eyes lit up, burning with intensity, as he muttered the following words.
"I am going to kill Jim Halpert."
Roy Anderson, had relapsed, and it was far worse than anyone could have predicted.