People always talk about the stereotypical side effects of chemotherapy such as nausea or hair loss, but no one ever really talks about the scarier side effects like high fevers, dizziness, or especially...the nightmares.

Jim had these often during the nights after treatment.

He would wake up in a feverish panic, gasping for air, flailing as he struggled to escape his sheet prison. Often times he wouldn't remember where he was, or would simply think he was still in the terrible dream.

"Hey, just breathe," she would guide him through the panic attack. "You're okay."

Then she would pull him close, where his head could rest on her chest.

"Just focus on my heartbeat. I'm not going anywhere," she would whisper to him until the trembling finally stopped and he drifted back off into exhaustion once again.

He very rarely remembered these moments in the morning, but Pam doubted that she would ever unsee them, could ever unfeel them.

She had a calendar on the fridge where she marked off the days until Jim's operation. Whether because she was looking forward to it or dreading it, she didn't know. She hadn't had much time to process anything lately. They had been going to the hospital every other day for the past three weeks for treatments. Three weeks on, one week off for three months. That was the deal the doctor gave them.

She could do anything for three months. Right?

Michael had been letting Jim come in when he could so that he didn't lose any of his clients. It was very generous, she knew, but, she was concerned about how long Jim could keep it up. He'd been taking the treatment like a champ, for sure, but this was just the first month. The doctor was very clear that things were going to get worse before they got better. Chemo took its toll on everyone differently, but to imagine what it would eventually do to her husband, her Jim...

She'd always heard that it was in the storm that people realized their true character.

XXX

Pam supposed it was the rain that woke her so early. Or maybe, it was that queasy feeling she had deep down in her gut.

It was dark and grey outside the splattered window, yet, still lighter than she thought it should've been at that time of morning. Pam leaned over to grab her alarm clock. This may be the weekend, but she had still set her alarm for an early wake up call. She had to do everything on her list that she'd been putting off since Jim's diagnosis. It was the beginning of his first week off of chemo. Round one, complete. Two more to go. But now, Pam had to play catch up on an entire month.

She squinted at the luminescent numbers in the darkness. They flashed back up at her, and she swore under her breath. The storm must've knocked out the power. What time was it?

She tapped her phone and it lit up a blurry nine o'clock. Pam groaned inwardly...already behind. She rolled over to wake Jim, surprised that the baby had not yet woken them both, but Jim wasn't there. She furrowed her brow and stared around the room. He was nowhere to be found.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and forced herself to sit up. Her whole body felt achy and stiff. Again, she groaned inwardly.

"Not today," she thought.

Her head felt so stuffed that she was sure it might explode. She tried to swallow, but shuddered as she felt her sinuses draining into her throat. She glanced longingly back down at her pillow. It looked even more inviting now than it did a few moments ago.

No. No, she had to power through. She didn't have time to be sick on her one off day. The house was a mess. The baby needed to be fed. She had to make sure Jim was okay.

She pushed herself up and stumbled to the bathroom where she caught site of herself in the mirror.

"Not great," she thought as she blew her nose in a tissue.

She didn't want Jim to see her like this. He'd make a big deal, and it's not like a little cold was anything compared to how sick he'd been the past three weeks.

She closed her eyes for just a moment to gather her thoughts, and felt she could easily go back to sleep right that second, standing on her feet. She was absolutely exhausted from going non stop for the past month, but that didn't really matter in light of everything. Worrying about her shouldn't even cross Jim's mind. She was fine. Really.

Pam looked at herself in the mirror again. He probably wouldn't notice, right?

She made her way into the kitchen and found Jim feeding the baby at the table. He looked better than he had in a while, meeting her with a smile when he finally looked up.

"Say, 'Hey, Mama,'" he cooed at the baby as Pam came near.

Pam smiled down at the wide eyes staring into her, surprised they could even see her over a bottle almost as big as she was.

"I don't think she'll be saying anything for a while," Pam said back.

Jim continued speaking in the baby voice they'd both adopted recently. "I don't know. She's a Halpert. They're geniuses," he said softly, then turned to look at his wife.

Pam was standing further back than she usually would in hopes that Jim wouldn't look too closely at her. But for a second when their eyes met, she knew he was already suspicious. She quickly turned away, though, and went about their regular routine, gathering utensils to make breakfast.

She was fine. It was just a cold.

When the baby was fed and laid down in her carrier, Jim joined her in the kitchen to help with breakfast. Again, she did her best to stay on opposite sides of the counter from him so as to not get close enough for him to realize that she didn't feel well. But with every passing minute she felt more and more drained and the urge to just sit down grew stronger.

Eventually, though, she could no longer avoid him. She could feel her muscles tense as he got closer and closer while they made breakfast. This was routine, and she knew it was only a matter of time before he leaned in for a kiss. She stared avidly at the counter as they both skirted the stovetop. Maybe that would deter him. But if anything, her newly acquired reservations seemed to tip him off. Finally, as she dished scrambled eggs onto a plate, he pulled her in and kissed her forehead, before she even knew what was happening.

She pulled away as quickly as she dared, offering him a small smile of appreciation. Maybe he wouldn't notice anything?

He noticed.

"Hey, wait come back," he said, pulling her hand gently back towards him.

She came back hesitantly, still refusing eye contact in a nonchalant manor. But she could feel the weight of his gaze, examining her.

"Are you feeling okay," he asked. "You feel really warm," he added, brow furrowed.

Pam nodded and smiled assuringly, still not meeting Jim's eyes. He reached his hand towards her forehead, but she dodged that, too, and spun out of his arms.

"Pam," he said, sounding almost hurt.

"I'm fine, really," she said. Then, with one last unconvinced look from Jim, "I'm just a little under the weather."

Her body chose this inconvenient moment to send a chill down her spine. She shivered against her will. Jim said nothing, although his tight lipped frown told her that he noticed.

"Maybe you should lie down," he persuaded, reaching out for her hand again.

Maybe it was the fever, maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was just the stress of the past month, who knows, but at that moment, something ugly inside of Pam began to stir.

"I said I'm fine," she snapped, slamming her hands down on the counter. "I'm FINE."

Jim watched her quietly, his full attention uncomfortably on her. Behind him, the baby began to cry, yet he paid no attention.

"What's really going on," he asked after several seconds of thick silence.

Pam was suddenly aware of how much distance was between them as she stood just out of his reach. She stared silently back at him.

"What's wrong," he asked again.

He had that look in his eyes that told her it wasn't really a question, but a demand. He wore it very few times in their relationship, but when he did, she knew there was nothing she could do to escape. It was best to surrender early.

"I should be taking care of you," she blurted out as tears began to fall from her face.

God, she was so sick of crying.

Jim shook his head, looking confused.

"What are you talking about. Pam, you've literally been doing everything for me, for us," he said, gesturing towards the crying baby.

Pam could her the rain begin to fall hard on the roof, creating a noise that sounded much like the rumbling now in her ears.

"Pam," Jim asked, but she could only stare at him.

Something was rising within her that she couldn't place her finger on, a part of her that she did not yet recognize. Maybe she'd never even seen it. Lightning struck in the distance, and as she stared into Jim's concerned eyes, that unrecognizable monster made its appearance.

Before she even realized what she was doing, she had taken the bowls, now full of sad, wet eggs, and thrown them against the wall. The shattering noise seemed to shake the room much like the impending thunder.

But it almost felt good.

Numb to the storm, numb to the screaming baby, numb to her husband trying desperately to calm her, Pam surrendered everything she could get her hands on to the monster inside.

She screamed and gasped and flailed until the kitchen lay in ruins. The silverware was scattered about the kitchen, the bowls, in pieces, the toaster, fallen sideways and dented on the floor.

Pam felt rage and fear and the overwhelming feeling that she could pull her hair out or scratch her own skin. Only when nothing else in her reach would budge did the numbness lift and the pain settle in. She saw, for the first time, her shaking hands, cut open and dripping small drops of blood onto the tile. She heard, for the first time, her wailing child, her begging husband. She felt, for the first time, the raw, unfiltered emotion that had been threatening to surface for the past three weeks.

Exhausted, dizzy, and suddenly, overwhelmingly ashamed, she covered her face and sunk down slowly against the cabinets, weeping into her hands. Surely Jim would hate her now. She was weak. She was selfish. She was-

"Hey, hey..."

She felt Jim crash down beside her, pulling her violently close, deep into his chest.

"Just breathe," he whispered. "You're okay."

He rocked her back and forth, holding her tightly in his arms.

"Just focus on my heartbeat. I'm not going anywhere," he whispered to her over and over again until the trembling finally stopped and she drifted off into exhaustion once again, the rain beating hard against the window.

Because people always talk about the stereotypical side effects of chemotherapy such as nausea or hair loss, but no one ever really talks about the scarier side effects like high fevers, dizziness, or especially...the nightmares.

But Pam had always heard that it was in the storm that people realized their true character.