"What the hell?! Pam!"

Her hand flew away from Jim's; Jim stood up, banging his knee on her rolling desk chair as he did, coming face to face with Roy as he rose.

"Roy, what are you doing up here?" Pam asked.

"What are you doing?" his eyes were wide with anger as he looked at the two of them.

"It's nothing," Jim stammered.

"Don't tell me it's nothing! What the hell are you doing sitting that close to my fiancée?!"

"Oh, now I'm not allowed to sit close to someone without you getting jealous?" Pam began.

"Don't start with me," Roy said, and Jim could see a vein in his neck start to throb. "Don't you dare start that guilt-trip bullshit with me."

"Well Roy, you're being ridiculous," Pam said, keeping her cool remarkably well despite the dozens of eyes on her. Thank god the cameras aren't here… .

"I don't want to talk about this here," he said flatly.

"Then let's talk in the hall," Pam said softly. She stood up, nearly knocking Jim over in the process. He looked at the ground, his hand on the back of his neck and his other hand – the one Pam's hand had kissed only moments before – shoved deep into his pants pocket.

Roy's eyes shot daggers at Jim before he looked back at Pam. "Fine. Let's go."

"Coming, coming," she whispered as she rounded the desk and joined Roy in the hallway. The door closed; Jim could see the outline and faint colour of Pam's purple cardigan as she pressed against the frosted glass of the wall beside the door. He waited a moment before going back to his desk. Everyone slowly got back to work.

Dwight leaned over after a minute had passed. "I would have had your back, Jim."

Jim rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger, "What are you talking about?"

"If Roy had started something," Dwight said. "I would have had your back."

Jim was touched but it wasn't the time for sentiment; still, his heart rate had begun to slow and he smiled meekly at Dwight. "Thanks."

Moments later, the door opened. Roy returned. "Hey Halpert."

Jim turned, "Yep?"

"Hey, I'm sorry for blowing up back there. It's just been a stressful day and… ."

"Yeah, no problem. It's fine. Don't worry."

"So… we're cool?"

"We're cool."

Roy smiled, and as he turned to walk out of the office, he bent to give Pam a kiss on the cheek; she stood there, arms folded across her chest as he kissed her. Ultimately, her eyes gave her away. She was seething. When he was sure Roy was gone, he started to get up to go to Pam, who was still standing there, when the door opened again. Fully expecting Roy to return, Jim scrambled to re-seat himself, but it was only Michael.

He walked in, pointing back at the door, "What's up Roy's ass?" he asked Pam, shrugging as she stalked around to her seat without answering. "Oh well, never mind. I've got good news! They're not cancelling us!" he exclaimed. When nobody seemed even remotely as excited as he was, Michael looked around, surveying the sombre expressions. "Okay, me no likey silent treatment." He laughed again, awkwardly, before raising his hands in frustration. "All right, seriously, who died?"

"Roy just about broke Jim," Kevin said from the back of the office.

Michael looked at Jim, his eyes widened in excitement, "I almost missed a fight?!"

Jim shook his head. "It's fine. It's nothing serious."

Disheartened, Michael shrugged. "Okay… well next time save it for when the cameras are around!"

"Which will be…?" Oscar asked, seemingly impatient.

"After the Olympics sometime," he stammered, "...or something... probably… I don't know. I brought goodies!" And then he began handing out bumper stickers and antenna figurines from the television station like a child with an attention span disorder hyped up on too much sugar.

The whole time, Jim never took his eyes off Pam. She had sat down now; her face was grim, her mouth firm and her eyes like steel, and her skin was still flushed red with embarassment and anger. But Jim could see that behind it all, Pam was dying to cry. She glanced at the clock, likely trying to find a way to bend time herself, then went back to work at the pace of a sloth, and nothing more was said.

An hour later, Jim pulled on his coat and gave a sideways smirk at Pam. "You found a ride?" Roy had left early, giving Pam the excuse that he needed to blow off some steam, leaving her to ask around for a ride. She hadn't asked Jim, but he hadn't offered, either.

"Yeah. My friend. She'll be here soon."

Jim nodded, "Okay then. Have a good night."

"You too, Jim."

He turned to walk out, reaching the door before his feet slowed their pace and crept forward like leaden weights before spinning him back around very suddenly. "Pam?"

"Yeah, Jim, what is it?"

"Um… I just…," he tapped his fingers against the desk. "I'm sorry. About earlier."

"Me too."

He paused. It wasn't what he wanted to hear -- what did he want to hear? -- but he nodded and looked down. "Yeah, it was… ."

"About Roy, I mean," she clarified quickly.

"Right. Roy." Again with the apologizing, the defence… why are you always covering Roy's ass? He wanted to say it, but bit his tongue.

"He's a bit jumpy lately. Stress from the wedding, I guess."

The guy's done nothing about the wedding. What can he possibly be stressed about? "Right."

"But…," she continued, and Jim thought he saw her flexing her hand on her leg, above her knee. "I'm not… sorry. About… ."

For a moment, Jim felt a surge of hope. He didn't dare breathe, or look at her, out of fear that she would stop. He just closed his eyes and listened.

"Just…," she sighed, "Thank you."

He blinked, raising his eyes to look in hers, "I didn't do anything."

"Yes you did," she smiled. They held each other's gaze for a moment, and Jim couldn't remember a time when he'd wanted to kiss someone so badly. Caught between the thought and the act, he was immobilized. His muscles were primed, itching to spring into action, while his mind quadruple guessed itself. And then Pam cleared her throat.

"Good night, Jim."

"Night."

It was instinct. Duck and cover. Suppress. Disengage. He smiled without realizing it and turned on his heel again to head to the door. He was barely aware of the sound of her leaving the office behind him; not wanting to get stuck in the elevator with her, he bolted for the stairs. He barely made it out of the building before the elevator opened again, and was in his car ready to drive away when she pushed open the door and stood on the sidewalk under the lamp to wait.

Jim drove slowly, trying to process what had just happened. He didn't know where to start. He pulled out onto the street and began to drive away. "What was that?" he asked out loud to his own reflection in the rear mirror as he checked for cars behind him before he switched lanes.

A movement on the sidewalk a little ways back caught his attention. He slowed even more, pausing to turn his whole body in the seat so he could see. It was Pam, walking out of the parking lot, seeming to head towards the bus stop.

She has a ride, Jim thought. Unless she's lying. But why would she do that?

In a split second, Jim made up his mind. He turned the corner and drove as fast as was safe for the wintry road conditions, circumnavigating the block in order to come out near the bus stop and give Pam the ride she hadn't asked for, which he hadn't offered. As he made his way back onto the street she was walking along, he saw the bus, red taillights glowing in the night. He saw Pam pick up her walking pace and disappear behind the bus itself as it slowed down to let her on. He sighed deeply, watching the bus lurch to a stop, rock slightly as she stepped up, and then saw her walking down the illuminated inside aisle to find a seat.

"Damnit," he cursed under his breath, flicking the turn signal and pulling out onto the street again in the same direction he was going in before. Pam headed off in one direction; Jim cruised in the other. If only this were ninth grade English again, Jim thought as he inched homeward. I'd have the perfect example of 'metaphor' for Ms. Staedel and the rest of the class.