Jim had hoped that she had calmed down a bit as he pulled into his street, not sure what to do if she hadn't. He could still feel her anger radiating off her like heat; he wanted to tell her she was being ridiculous for acting so unreasonable- that he loved her and their baby.

He didn't dare try to say it. So he continued to drive.

"Where are we going?" She suddenly asked.

"Home." He countered, suddenly confused. Where else had she thought they'd go? He twisted his head towards her, his brow knit together.

"I want to go to my home." She suddenly was angry again. He automatically was brining her back to his place, not even asking if that was where she wanted to go.

Her words were a slap to Jim. He felt the bitter taste of her resentment as he suddenly flipped the car around into the opposite direction to take her back to her apartment. His anger suddenly flared again.

"You have stairs. I thought my ground level would be easier." He eased through clenched teeth.

"But it's not my home." She answered, still seething.

Jim suddenly snapped, unable to hold himself back. "What is with you Pam? Is it the hormones? Because I can get that, but you're going to have to let me know what you want me to do here."

Pam's anger spoke for her. "I don't want you to do anything Jim. Nothing at all. I want you to take me home and that's it." She folded her arms and sat back in the seat.

"You know I'm going to have to help you up the stairs. You can't make them by yourself-" he started, but she quickly interrupted him, her face reddening with anger. "I can make them just fine! I don't need you lugging me around like some doll Jim. I can do it myself." She leaned as far away from him as possible, her face practically against the car window. "Just go and hang out with Doctor Karen." She mumbled through her bad mood.

Jim was appalled. "What does this have to do with Karen?" He demanded, feeling like a child being chastised.

"It has everything to do with her! She looked like her! Jim, look at you! Look at me! I'm a knocked-up gimpy freak who can't even walk!" She flailed, her emotions erupting like a volcano. "I can't go anywhere without you getting hit on!"

Jim rolled his eyes at the sheer ridiculousness of her outburst. He was about to say something, but she interrupted him again, with a gentler voice.

"I can't go anywhere without you." She finished glumly. Jim's stomach twisted; trying to figure out the right thing to say.

"Pam…" he started- not really sure where to start. "I'm sorry, this is entirely my fault."

"Jim, if it's anything I don't need is you blaming this on yourself. I can't take your remorse and sulkiness -it's just sickening."

"I'm the one who did this to you Pam! How do you want me to act?" He snapped, feeling himself spiral back to the accident, and his grip tightened on the wheel. "It was my fault, I did it!" His voice shuddered in the cab of the car. He could feel himself break into a sweat as he pulled into the parking lot to her apartment complex. Pam's anger was at a boiling point. She couldn't take him blaming himself anymore. It made everything so much harder for her to deal with. Every time she wanted to just toil in self pity for a while, but he was always there- with those sad eyes and somber expression. Making her feel worse for not trying hard enough. She hated herself. She was reeling at a way to make him shut up; anything to stop him from tormenting her with his own.

She spoke without thinking.

"You're not the one who did this to me."

Jim cocked his head to one side as he tried to dissect her meaning. "Of course I am- don't try to put this on yourself." He told her as he pulled into the closest parking spot to her apartment. He turned off the car and opened his door, untangling himself from her car. She heard his words it stabbed at her. She couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't take him.

"I don't mean the accident, Jim." She spat with acid, not really knowing why she had said it.

The look on Jim's face was beyond recognition. The meaning to her words were not lost on him. She bit her tongue so hard she thought she could taste blood. She didn't know why she said it- she just wanted to hurt him as much as his torment was hurting her.

"What does that mean?" His voice barely above a whisper as he leaned against her doorframe, his head lowered.

"I think you know what that means." She said, unwavering.

Jim could feel the bile again, from the pit of his stomach reaching up slowly and torturously up this throat. He squeezed his eyes tight against it, hoping it would all go away. He felt like he was kicked in the gut.

The instant Pam had said it, she regretted it. She didn't mean it, and of course it wasn't true. She just wanted him to stop making her feel nothing but shame and remorse by his self-masochistic disregard for himself since the accident. A little part of her wanted him to snap; to break down and stop the bravado. She needed someone there with her, on the same horizon- not someone trying to walk ahead of her, kicking stones out of the way in case she trips; she needed to walk side by side.

She was snapped out of her reverie when she heard the door slam. She jumped just an instant as she watched Jim's long gait quicken and he strove around to her side of the car. She remained silent as she watched him unlatch her door and open it- pulling her gently out by the arm so he could grab her crutches in the backseat.

"Jim," she finally broke as he settled her with her crutches, never saying a word. His face had drained of blood and his lips a thin line on his mouth. If he heard her, he didn't respond.

They walked in silence, him helping her up the stairs; the only sounds between them was her labored breathing and the clicking of her crutches on the concrete stairs. It was a long and terrible trip up- the silence between them stifling.

When they finally made it to her door, she couldn't take it. She was going to tell him everything; tell him that she needed him, and that she wanted him to need her too. She wanted all this awkwardness and torment to end. She wanted to tell him that she loved him. They were going to get back on track.

She scuffled into her apartment and twisted around- determined to come clean. When she faced him her breath was kicked out of her. His face was defeated. Worse than when they were in the car after the accident. Worse than when she first woke up in the hospital. Worse than when he watched her try and fail to walk.

"Pam, I can't do this." He struggled to say, his eyes not far from tears.

"Jim," she tried again- he shook his head, not letting her continue.

He was looking down at his feet for a moment before up at her. The guise he had tried to muster had faltered. Her heart sank as she waited for him to say it. His voice broke.

"It's over."