Author's Note: Set during "Christmas Party."

"Yeah," Pam said, lifting the teapot. "I think I made the right choice."

The cameraman lifted his head and winked. She smiled, slightly confused, but he gave her a warm grin and flicked his hand, shooing her out of the room. She stood up, holding the teapot to her chest, and stepped through the door.

"Hey, there you are," Roy said, coming up on her left side. "What's that?"

"My Secret Santa gift from Jim," Pam said, holding it out for him to see. "Now I can have tea at my desk." The smile on her face faded at his expression.

"Where's the iPod?" he asked, frowning.

"I, um, traded it to Dwight. For the teapot." She pulled her gift back against her chest, wrapping her arms around it protectively.

Roy's eyes narrowed. "Well, that was stupid."

She gaped at him, groping for a scathing argument, waiting for the anger. But all she felt was tired. Tired of eggshells. Tired of trying to please him. Tired of his strange swings from caring and protective to dismissive and neglectful. "I wanted it," she said flatly.

"It's a teapot."

She sighed. "I know. I'm sorry." Fighting took energy, energy she didn't have anymore.

"Well, don't expect me to buy you an iPod now. I already told you; it'd ruin the surprise." He turned and walked off, no doubt to find Darryl and discuss more fantasy football strategies. Pam wondered if he'd still buy her a sweater even though he'd told her about that, too. It was hard to care at the moment.

She walked back to her desk and set the teapot on her chair, tracing the spout with her finger and smiling. She straightened and decided it was time for vodka.

The conference room door was closed most of the way, which she found slightly odd. Remembering Michael's desire that people make out in closets, she peeped through the crack and placed her hand on the door. She could hear a man's voice, but couldn't make out the words. She was afraid of what she'd walk in on; all she wanted was extremely spiked punch.

She was about to say, "Hello?" when she heard Roy say, "Just stay away from her, all right? I've had enough of you following her around like a little lost puppy."

"Look, it's not what you—" Jim's voice.

Pam caught her breath and pulled her hand away from the door.

"You're telling me you don't want to sleep with her?" Roy asked, his tone incredulous.

For the second time that night, Pam waited for the outrage, the anger, but the exhaustion within her merely grew.

After a brief silence, Roy said, "That's what I thought."

Pam heard a heavy footstep and turned, walking as quickly as she could toward Phyllis a few feet away. She introduced herself to Phyllis' boyfriend as Roy came out of the conference room. Bob Vance was listing all the refrigeration units he currently carried when Jim emerged a long moment later, a glass of punch in his hand.

Pam smiled at him. He gave her a small smile in return.

Later, as Pam drove a snoring Roy home from Poor Richard's, she glanced down at the teapot on the seat beside her. She remembered Jim's silence, and suddenly she didn't feel so tired.