SPOILERS: Spoilers for the episode 'Wannabe in the Weeds'.

A/N: I realize that I'm jumping onto the bandwagon, since just about everyone is posting a fic in response to last night's episode--which killed me, seriousl. I was sitting in my living room going 'No, no, put down the gun, PUT THE GUN DOWN!'--but I haven't seen too many from Pam's point of view. Not that she deserves one...but I like playing Devil's Advocate. Enjoy!

Fixation

The moment he touched her, laid his warm, broad hand on her shoulder, she was lost. Fixated.

Tommy wouldn't want her to grieve too long, after all. He would want her to be happy. And her mother was so dearly looking forwards to planning a wedding.

The moment he touched her, such a simple act of comfort from a good, compassionate man, she was lost in a whirlwind of emotion, her mind leaping years forwards, to when he would seize her hand and declare his undying love for her, to their wedding, to the birth of their first child, to when they would sit on a porch swing and sway in the gentle breeze.

It was only a matter of time, after all. Part of him already loved her. She could tell.

She followed him, her camera clicking. The photos would be part of their scrapbook, some day.

In a matter of twenty-four, forty-eight hours she devoted herself to discovering every little nuance, every little detail she could scrounge up. At their next meeting she would be prepared, blow him away with her charm, with her smile, with her beauty that shown from within. She already knew him and he would be so engaged in her that she would draw him in.

And that bitch was getting in her way.

She saw the way his eyes lingered on that toothpick of a woman. She'd been messing with his head, but no matter. She would show him what a real woman was like and he'd forget all about that Dr. Brent or Brian or whatever her name was.

She smiled shyly at him in his office, blushing like a school-girl. His voice sent shivers of pleasure down her spine: so cool, so collected, so professional. But she could tell there was passion underneath that rugged exterior. She knew it, instinctively.

Just like she knew his professionalism kept him from being overjoyed by her gift. She knew he was pleased that she had seen something about him that not many people would notice right away. She knew that he was only distant because he wanted to take things slow, that he was only nervous because they were in his workplace.

But the jealousy lit up inside of her when she saw him with that woman. That woman laughing and touching him, as if she possessed him, as if she had some privilege, some right that allowed her to drape herself on him.

He belonged to her. He just couldn't see it yet.

She would make him see.

It wouldn't be hard. Just get rid of the distraction that made his eyes wander away from her. Then they would be free to be in love and happy.

The gun was heavy in her purse.

She traced the rough, cold metal.

Hopefully she wouldn't have to use it.

But she was prepared to.

She walked into the club, where she'd followed him to. He was seated at a table near the front, surrounded by his friends, laughing. The bitch was on stage, singing, singing directly to him.

And his eyes followed her every move, drinking her in. He was intoxicated by her.

"Look at me."

There was a catch in her voice; she was in a tailspin of pain and fury and despair.

She called his name. He would hear her voice and snap out of the spell that toothpick woman held over him.

He started, turned to face her. She lifted the gun from her purse. It was heavy in her hands as she took aim.

She screamed his name.

One shot and that bitch would be gone for good.

"I'm doing this for us." She whispered.

His eyes, beautiful eyes, flashed and widened, his jaw dropping.

She pulled the trigger as he jumped into the direct line of the shot.

He jerked as the bullet slammed into him.

The music stopped; there was screaming.

No.

The gun went limp in her hands.

He fell.

Her mind babbled.

It wasn't meant for him, it wasn't meant for him, oh God, it wasn't meant for him.

The bitch knelt beside him.

Her gazed focused.

You! It was you!

She took aim.

Faster than she thought possible the woman grabbed his gun from the floor. Faster than she thought possible there was a bang.

She jerked when the bullet lodged in her throat.

She fell.

In the last few moments of her life she saw the gun drop, forgotten as the woman turned back to him, swinging around like a needle on a compass.

In the last few moments of her life she saw true love.

She just never knew it.


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