Subtlety and basic etiquette were two things that were definitely off the menu tonight at the Scranton branch of Chili's. Usually Jim took in Michael's well meaning – yet offensive more often than not – efforts at emceeing the 'Dundies' with a bemused and slightly forced good humour. He saw it like a trip to the dentist, something to be tolerated and avoided if possible and then forgotten for another year. Of course, there was the added bonus of another opportunity for entertainment at Dwight's expense, which meant that the evening would pay for itself in spades.

Tonight was different, though. And it wasn't just the increasing passive offensiveness of Michael's presentation speeches, that was to be expected after all. It wasn't Dwight's obnoxious presence as DJ, that was also to be expected.

Pam and Roy had turned up, together. Casually they had walked into the reserved area and seated themselves at Jim's table, an outward picture perfect eventual bride and groom to be. Jim didn't like it. He wasn't used to the feelings that were taking him over, frustration, jealousy, worry. And anger. He hated the feeling of anger, hated feeling helpless against it. He didn't like being even mildly vexed at any given situation, it went in complete polar opposite to his boyish, warm hearted nature.

He no longer felt comfortable around Pam. And that was different. Maybe he was imagining it, but he sensed a hostile line had been drawn between them. There were so many emotional darts at play. Throughout the evening as Michael continued on blissfully self unaware, Roy seemed to set about making a point of showing his displeasure with the whole thing, bristling about being brought to the Dundies under duress and reiterating what a jackass Michael was several times. It made for an uncomfortable evening.

Pam looked lovely tonight, Jim had noticed silently. Her hair was gleaming under the soft lighting, her spiral curls bouncing gently around her cheekbones. She was still wearing her office skirt and cardigan. He suspected it was the out-of-office environment that was favouring her all the more this evening, the same way a rose could look beautiful standing in a pot of dirt of a window, but a rose in the wild was exquisite.

Around half an hour had passed before Roy had decided they had had enough of the dumb and dumber Michael-Dwight combination and then he and Pam stood up and left.

She had barely said a few words to Jim in the short time she had been at his table. Roy hadn't acknowledged Jim's presence after an initial grunt and nod when they first sat down. Several times though, Jim had felt Roy's hard brown eyes focusing on himself and turned, catching a glare on the boorish mans face. He'd really hoped Pam would come solo this evening. Last night he had lain awake, thinking of Pam, of what happened in the lunch room the other day.

He'd suspected for some time that things weren't going right for her. Hell, he'd even tried to offer her his time the other day, to offer her a chance to talk to him. To offer her a friend. She had brushed him off dismissively – she had run. She was changing, withering away in plain sight. Her crazy laughter that same day at his office hijinks, how she had laughed and laughed as though she wouldn't never stop, when anyone who really took the time to look could see the sad eyes above her laughing mouth. It was concerning. He knew her better than anyone in the office – except Roy, of course – he knew that something essentially Pam was dying, Pam with her kind heart and love of fun, Pam that he thought of as his best friend.

Then, he had been surprised to see her come back to the restaurant alone. Taking his beer, she again sat at his table and they talked about simple things, the beer, Michael's attraction to Ryan and whether Dwight could be fooled into believing that Oscar is his secret admirer. Jim thought he could pull it off. Pam nodded at him agreeably, her thoughts far away.

-TO-

Jim offered Pam a ride home that night. She had had a little too much to drink and while she wasn't falling down drunk, she hadn't eaten and she was tipsy. Pam climbed into the small car, giggling at the sight of the backseat strewn with styrofoam cups and straws and a few stray fast food wrappers.

"You are a slob, Jim Halpert." She said, pleasantly mocking him. He rolled his eyes in jest and pointed to the back seat.

"Gives my Mom something to do when she comes to visit." he grinned playfully. Pam looked at him in astonishment.

"Huh?"

Jim smiled and pointed at the mess. After a moments silence between them, Pam started giggling merrily and he joined her.

They drove back in relative good humour. When they reached Pam's street, Jim suddenly slowed the car and carefully came to a stop before her turn.

"So, are you driving me home then, Halpert?" Pam asked him, nodding towards the turn. Jim rested his hands on the steering wheel and glanced at her.

"Um, yes. But hey," he began. "Have you got a minute? I kind of wanted to talk to you about something."

"Ohhh so serious." She said, sitting up straight and giving Jim her best full mock-attention.

Jim looked at her delicate face – a face he considered the prettiest he'd ever see - and his resolve almost fell to pieces. He was a patient man, obviously he'd sat through years of watching Pam and Roy play happily Mr and Mrs to be. He'd thought this through the last few days. The very last thing he wanted to ever do was hurt her. But he felt like he was really seeing her for the first time in a long time. She looked so small and vulnerable in the passenger seat. Her eyes were cast downwards now, the tips of her fingers nervously tracing around the buttons on her coat. When did she get so thin? Jim frowned.

"Are you okay, Pam?" He said softly, looking at her. Instantly she stiffened against the chair, keeping her head down, not answering him.

"I mean," he prodded gently. "Really okay?"

The silence between them was awkward, and Jim would swear the temperature in the car had just dropped several degrees. Pam was still playing with the buttons of her coat, her eyes focused on her feet. She still wasn't saying anything and he grew worried. He was lost here, he felt so torn between desperately wanting to help her, and fear that he may hurt her in trying to help her. Any illusions he had had about her had flown away. He had thought she was unhappy. He was wrong, completely wrong. Seeing her now, unmoving, looking so subdued, so defeated – he was wrong. This ran deeper than just unhappiness. Pam was in pain, she was hurting deeply. How could he have been so blind as to not have seen this before? He saw her everyday for goodness sake. And here she was, she needed a friend. Whatever he had expected, it wasn't this. Something was very wrong.

Slowly and as gently as he could Jim reached out and laid his hand on top her of hers. Immediately she stopped her circling of the buttons and became still.

"Oh, Pam. Your fingers are like ice." Jim said sadly. He heard the short, sharp and hushed in and out of her breathing.

Pam didn't move her hand out from under his. Nor did she lift her head. Jim sat patiently, letting her feel secure enough to stay with him, letting her know in his silence he was ready to listen to her. All night if she needed.

Tenderly he rubbed her hand, feeling her pain move into his own heart. He then saw that she was trembling and he looked at her with genuine sympathy and care.

"It's okay." He soothed kindly. He heard a faint sniffle and his heart broke for her. Unplugging his seatbelt, he leaned over to take her in his arms, to comfort her. Pam sat up, shrugging him off. Undoing her own seatbelt, she stepped out of the car quickly. Jim climbed out of the other side and made his way over to her, stopping when she raised her hands up.

"Please, Jim." her voice quivered. He could see the shine of tears on her cheeks in the moonlight. "Please." She said in a small voice and turned around, walking away.

"Pam?" Jim pleaded. She turned around.

"I'm here." He told her, his chest throbbing. He could see the muscles of her face and throat working, desperately trying to hold back tears. She blinked at him and turned back towards her street.

"Pam?" He called, making her turn back again. Now there were fat tears falling down her cheeks.

"Please, Jim." She repeated, shooting a desperate glance towards her house. "Please, go."

"Night or day. Pam." he said. "I'm here, night or day."

She looked like a desolate child lost in the darkness, so small and alone. He stood split with indecision. Finally he made to step towards her, when he heard her whisper a thank you as she spun around and briskly walked herself home.

Jim stood for a second and then followed her quietly, wanting to see she got indoors safely. He watched the tiny shaking silhouette of the woman he loved so much unlock her front door and step inside, shutting him out.