Author's Note: Okay, so this is an AU that starts during s2e6 of The Office, entitled "The Fight." Because it starts in an actual episode and diverges from there, a lot of the dialogue at the beginning will be from the show, but I am not trying to plagiarize any material from the show, and I do not own any of the characters. A lot of this fic may be pretty dark, but it's just the story I had in mind. It's kind of going to switch back and forth between viewpoints, mainly Jim and Pam. Let me know what you think!

It was a warm autumn day in Scranton. The employees of Dunder Mifflin sauntered out of the office building in a herd, squinting in the bright sunlight as Dwight and Michael raced ahead, loudly taunting each other. Jim and Pam hovered at the back of the slowly moving crowd, chuckling at Michael and Dwight's antics.

"My money's on Dwight," Pam murmured to Jim as they watched Dwight strike what he clearly thought was a menacing karate pose. "He's always been a little unhinged. I think he might finally snap."

"No, Beesly, you've got this all backwards!" Jim insisted with a grin. "They're not going to fight. They're going to break down in tears and hug and makeup."

"Maybe they'll confess their undying love for each other," Pam giggled. Jim shook with poorly stifled laughter. Luckily for him, the others were all distracted.

Jim turned toward his car and whipped the keys out of his pocket. "Want to carpool?"

Pam looked suddenly uneasy. "Um—if—uh—if you don't mind driving." She glanced almost imperceptibly back at the entrance to the building as she climbed into the passenger seat of Jim's car, as though making sure she wasn't being watched. Jim watched her out of the corner of his eye. He tried to be extremely conscientious of whether he was looking at her too long. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she pulled the seatbelt across her body.

The ride to Dwight's dojo passed mostly in silence, punctuated with the occasional witty exchange. When they finally arrived, Jim felt a mild pang in the pit of his stomach. He was almost sorry the ride was over.

As what could only generously be referred to as a "fight" commenced between Dwight and Michael on the floor of the dojo, Jim and Pam retreated to the back of the room. Pam picked up a pair of training mitts and slipped them on, then bounced playfully in front of Jim, taking joking swings at him as he pretended to dodge her. Jim took one of her gloved hands into both of his and ran his fingers along the surface of the mitt, pretending to read her palm. He almost let himself wonder what it would feel like if he were running his fingers across her bare palm instead, but he quickly pushed the thought from his mind.

"Wow, that is really interesting," he muttered, closely examining the wrinkles in the mitt.

"What?"

"Your love line—I'm just kidding. I can't see anything."

Pam smiled slyly. "Well, look closer." As Jim leaned over her hand, she lightly tapped the mitt against his face, making him pull back with an expression of incredulous delight. Pam's face split into a grin. "One point for me."

Jim tapped Pam's forehead in retaliation. "Tied up."

"Oh, you're dead!"

"What are you going to do?" he taunted playfully. "Bring it, Beesly, bring it." She rammed Jim gently with her shoulder. He laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Oh, yeah, good move," he said into her ear as he lifted her off the ground while she struggled. "Not such an ultimate fighter now!" They were lost in a haze of giddy laughter as Pam struggled against Jim's embrace. The hem of Pam's shirt slid up in the scuffle just as Meredith was turning around to see what all the noise was about. Then several things happened at once.

"Oh, my god, what the hell happened to you?" Meredith exclaimed. Pam let out a shocked gasp, then freed her arms from Jim's grip and pushed against him, at which he hastily placed her on the ground. Oscar and Angela, who were standing nearby, had also turned around at the sound of Meredith's horrified voice. Jim caught a flash of purple and black on Pam's exposed stomach before she pulled her shirt down as quickly as possible and turned away.

"Pam—" Jim started, internally flailing for the right words to figure out what the hell he had just seen, but Pam was already streaking out the door, muttering lamely about having left something in the car.

"Did—did you guys see that too?" Meredith murmured to the others. Oscar and Angela murmured in concerned agreement. "Jim? Do you know what happened?"

"No idea," Jim replied. Meredith, Oscar, and Angela had bent their heads together to converse in hushed voices. Everyone else was too focused on the smackdown between Dwight and Michael to notice anything was wrong.

"Do you guys think—Roy? No, it couldn't be. He doesn't seem like the type of guy…" Oscar was murmuring to the group. Jim was only half listening. He was gazing after Pam, but he could not see his car in the parking lot from where he stood. "I'll be right back," he said distractedly to his coworkers before hurrying outside, the sounds of Michael yelling and Dwight's flailing limbs thumping against the floor ringing out into the parking lot as the door swung shut.

"Pam?" Jim said cautiously as he approached. Pam was leaning against Jim's car, determinedly avoiding his questioning gaze. She wore a hardened, unreadable expression. Jim inched over to her with his hands shoved into his pockets. He leaned against the car next to her and feigned an intense interest in a pebble he was kicking around with his foot. Jim had just opened his mouth to say something else when the door to the dojo banged open behind them and Michael and Dwight came trudging out, followed by the rest of their coworkers. The pair were not speaking to each other, but both walked gingerly, clearly sporting a few injuries.

"We should get going," Pam said curtly. She still was not looking Jim in the face. She walked around to the other side of his car and climbed into the passenger seat, slamming the door with unnecessary force. Oscar, Angela, and Meredith were the last to file out of the dojo. Each of them shot furtive looks in Jim and Pam's direction before piling into their own cars.

The silence between Jim and Pam on the ride back to the office was much less comfortable than before. This time, there was no clever bantering, no stolen glances at one another when they thought the other was not looking. After they had been driving for a few minutes, Jim attempted to break the tension.

"Pam…I have to ask. Where did all those bruises come from?"

Pam sat as still as a statue in her seat. Jim heard her breath quietly catch in her throat. He could practically hear the gears in her brain turning as she attempted to string the right words together to deflect his suspicions. Finally she said, in a flat voice, "I fell down the stairs in my building."

Jim did not buy this explanation for a second, and he was pretty sure she knew how lame it was, but there was something in her tone that told him he was not to pursue the topic any further. He waited until they were pulling into the office parking lot before trying again.

He put the car in park and attempted to piece together a question like a child trying to make words out of the noodles in his alphabet soup. This time, his voice came out much deeper and quieter. "Pam. What did he do to you?"

The car was completely silent, save for the muffled noises of the others casually conversing as they walked back into the building. Neither Pam nor Jim drew breath for a few moments as they felt the truth hovering between them, fragile and terrible. And then, in a soft, defeated voice, Pam shattered it.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She swung the passenger side door open, climbed out of the car, and scurried into the office building without looking back, leaving Jim sitting in a storm of confusion, anger, and fear. He could not recall ever feeling so helpless.

What do I do now?