Pam slept the whole way home, not even stirring when Jim got her medicine from the pharmacy. He wound down all the windows to try and cool her down and checked her temperature at every traffic light and stop sign. He tried not to think about how he felt each time he touched her skin. I'm doing this as her friend. She coughed and moaned as the aches, pain and high temperature set in, she occasionally muttered words and vague sentences. She must be dreaming, I remember her telling me she has wild dreams when she's got a fever. He'd never seen her so ill. He wanted nothing more than to look after her.
They arrived at Pam's apartment. He scooped her out of the car and carried her to the second floor. He set her down on her feet, propped up between his body and the wall. He kept one arm around her waist as she wobbled, half awake and half asleep.
"We're home?" whispered Pam, hardly opening her eyes. Jim unlocked the door with his free hand and pushed it open with his foot.
"Yep, come here." He picked her up once again. "You're going to take your medicine and get some rest."
"You're carrying me." She smiled, she stroked a hand down his neck. "I like this, you should do this more often." Her eyes didn't stay open for long. Jim remembered the last time she'd touched his neck; the casino night. He set her down gently on her squashy cream sofa.
"Focus Jim." He muttered under his breath, reminding himself that he had moved on. All this physical contact was playing with his mind as well as his body. Pam lay curled on her sofa, her soft curly hair slightly damp from perspiration and her skin was glistening. She looked so fragile and yet so beautiful. He stared for much longer than he should have; no other thoughts in his mind but her. He crouched beside her and felt her head once again. So much for focus.
She opened her eyes and smiled. "Hi Jim Halpert."
"Hi Pam Beesly." She was still burning up. "I'm going to get you a few things. A cold compress, some water and some ice ok?" He slipped off her shoes and placed them neatly beside the sofa.
"Pyjamas too, I'm boiling." She untucked her blouse from her skirt and Jim saw a glimpse of her stomach. He suddenly found the bookcase extremely interesting. Pam has Thai food cookbooks, interesting, keep looking at the book Jim. He glanced back and Pam's blouse was covering her again.
"Where are they?"
"Um, in the top drawer of my dresser." She squirmed on her back trying to get comfortable, it didn't seem to be working.
"Ok, first things first." Jim got her the water and she took her first dose along with some ibuprofen. He fixed her a cold compress, a bowl of ice water and a jug of water and a glass to keep her hydrated.
"Here. I'm going to get your pyjamas, don't go anywhere."
Jim ventured upstairs and found her bedroom. He'd never been in here before. He'd only been to her apartment a handful of times. It was exactly how he'd imagined. The bed was neat and covered with a modern floral duvet cover. Her dresser only had a few products on it and a well used hairbrush, he liked that Pam didn't wear too much make up or perfume, she didn't need it. On the walls hung some of her artwork, various scenes of Scranton and some still life. One picture hanging above one of the bedside tables was of a house. Jim studied it for a time. He didn't recognise the house until he remembered one day Pam describing her perfect house. A house with a terrace, somewhere she could plant flowers. This picture was her dream home.
Jim's imagination went into overdrive. He imagined them building this house together just outside Scranton in the countryside, how they'd spend their first night in their new bedroom. He'd propose to her on the terrace on a clear night in summer. They'd have two, or maybe three children, Pam would make a wonderful mother. They'd set up a basketball hoop on the garage, Pam would have a studio for her art and I'll work-. Jim snapped out of it.
"What the hell am I thinking?" He said aloud. He sat down on the bed to collect himself when he saw a dress hanging on the outside of Pam's wardrobe. "You have to be kidding." It was the blue dress from casino night. His stomach churned at the sight of it, the hurt and rejection flooded back, he want to run out the door as fast as he could. Jim went to the dresser and grabbed a pair of cotton shorts and a t-shirt, ignored the abundance of underwear also in the drawer and rushed downstairs. He was furious with himself for getting so carried away and needed to get out of their as soon as possible.
He needed to call Karen, she was his future now, the mother of his children. It felt wrong to think that. No images of their future sprang up in his mind. He felt sick at the thought, why can't he make it happen with Karen, she's lovely, I don't want to feel like this again.
When he got downstairs the only thought in his mind was getting out of there. In the living room Pam was crying.
"What's wrong?" Jim crouched down and stroked the hair out of her face. She was shivering but still burning hot.
"Please don't leave me alone, everything hurts, please don't go." Her eyes were pleading.
"Ok, ok, I won't leave, you won't be alone." He sat down on the floor in front of her and held her hand. I can't leave her like this.
They sat quietly for a while, Pam drifted in and out of sleep or maybe consciousness, she was muttering again, Jim could make out random words, it sounded like she was at a restaurant, she talked about getting food another time she was talking about how charcoal made her fingers feel funny. At one point Jim was sure her heard her say "Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam."
Pam began to stir again.
"Hey Pam" Jim put a fresh cold compress on her forehead. She seemed a little cooler, perhaps the medicine was kicking in. She seemed more relaxed too.
"Remember the time the time Dwight tried to take his shirt off in Chili's?"
"How could I forget, the therapy it took to erase that image, you owe me $2,000 in therapy bills Beesly. Anyway, it was your fault for getting drunk and falling off the chair if I remember rightly."
"Nope, I don't remember that, you must be mistaken." She grinned. Her cheeks were apple red and her eyes shadowed, she looks beautiful. "Remember the introduction video Michael did for you?"
"Based on the Blair Witch Project." He smiled softly. "Now that was classic Michael Scott there."
"I can't believe I didn't know you then."
"I know. I feel like I've known you forever." Jim dropped his head slightly, feeling he'd said too much.
"Me too." She squeezed his hand. They sat not looking at each other for a moment and Pam drifted off to sleep again. She looked more peaceful this time. Half an hour passed and Pam started to fidget in her sleep again, her moaning in her sleep sounded more distressed. Jim refreshed her compress. She needs to change into cooler clothes but I can't do that, I feel so useless. After a little while she woke again, her eyes were more hooded and bloodshot. Her fever was spiking again.
"I'm sorry, Jim" her eyes were full of tears again.
"You can't help being ill, Dwight can, but you can't." He smiled, half trying to cover up how much he didn't want to be there, and half covering up how much he did.
"I'm sorry I said I can't." Her voice was breaking and tears fell from her eyes. Jim wiped them both away with his thumb and she leaned into his hand and closed her eyes. Jim pulled away, letting go of her hand he was still holding.
"I think you're delirious again" He tried to keep his tone light and friendly and fanned her face with a magazine that was lying neatly on the coffee table.
"I should have said it back. I'm sorry. I messed up." She was still crying but less so.
"Said what?"
"Casino night."
Jim went on autopilot, Pam had a fever, they weren't going to have this conversation. Not like this anyway.
"You've got a high fever Pam, let's talk about something else. Remember the first time I met your mum and I'd just found Dwight's surikens." Jim tried to laugh it off but it was even more awkward than it sounded in his head.
She looked at him, tears welling up again.
"I miss you."
"I'm right here Pam." He squeezed her hand but he couldn't look at her face, this was too much.
"You know what I mean."
Jim remained quiet for a beat.
"Yeah. I do."
"I want-"
The doorbell rang and Jim sighed in relief. Maybe this was the fever talking or maybe she was just out of it enough to say how she really felt. She'd already said too much. The short walk to the door was a welcome break. Jim opened the door. Ugh.
"Is Pam here, is she ok?" Roy looked worried. He'd come straight from work.
"Yeah, she's in the living room." Roy pushed past. Jim followed but stood in the doorway
"Roy, I'm sick, you shouldn't be here." Pam husked out through coughing.
"I'm going to look after you Pam. Let's get you in a cool bath, you're burning up, that'll make you feel better. Why are you still in your work clothes?" Roy stroked her hair just like Jim had.
That was the problem with Roy. He was never bad enough to make leaving him an easy choice for Pam. He did love her. But not like Jim had loved her. Roy had his moments and Pam clung to them for a reason to carry on.
"We're alright now Jim, you can go." Roy didn't turn his gaze away from Pam.
"Ok. Well she'll need another dose of Tamiflu in three hours, some paracetamol in two and ibuprofen in six."
"You been doping her up Halpert?" he was only half joking. Jim knew he wanted him out of here as soon as possible. This was a big chance to get back together with Pam, he'd been trying since Pam called off the wedding.
"The painkillers help her. Make sure she drinks and keep an eye on her cough, she had childhood asthma." Jim sounded deflated. Not only was he surrounded by his past, he was reliving it.
"Yeah, I'd forgotten about that." Of course you had.
"I'm going now Pam, Roy is going to look after you."
"Jim, Jim." She reached her hand out and flapped it slightly, Jim smothered a chuckle.
"Yeah?"
"Tell Dwight I have dusty hair and purple fingers." They both smiled at each other though Pam's was slightly pained, Jim hated to leave her like that.
"You got it Beesly."
Jim left and called Karen from the car.
"How about you come over to mine tonight, I'll cook a lasagne so good it would be worth risking a zombie apocalypse for, let alone the plague." The cool air outside felt good, Roy showing up was exactly what he needed to remind him where he was now. Today was a blip. Karen is a great girl.
