Author's Notes: I would just like to give huge, huge thanks to Paper Jam for being an amazing beta! I really appreciate the help and kind words.

Disclaimer: I own nothing unfortunately and no copyright infringement is intended.

She is much calmer than she expected to be. Sure, it hurts that her ex-fiancé (and now ex-boyfriend) had blown up in such a public place, but she is quite used to being hurt by now. She can't remember the last time she wasn't in some sort of pain, whether it was just an annoying sting like a paper cut, or extreme agony like lungs burning from a lack of air. Perhaps she feels no pain now because she is simply numb like when a bone breaks, and you immediately lose all sensation in that area because it's too much to bear. Now that she thinks about it, she much prefers this.

~*~*~

She has been sitting in her room, on the edge of her bed for a few hours now, just staring. Her mind is blank, an exact replica of the canvas in the next room she had been unable to touch since the show. It was silly of her to quit painting just because of what a couple of people had said about her work. People have different preferences after all, so maybe they just didn't appreciate the kind of art she produced...Or maybe they were right. Maybe she is just as scared in her painting as in her life. What really bothers her is that she felt like she had made such progress as if she had finally begun to peck away at her protective shell. This same shell has been with her for years now. She remembers feeling its presence back in grade school even. And still she hasn't escaped it.

~*~*~

Little Pam sits in her desk, silent in perfect concentration. If she takes her focus off the red raspberry colored crayon for a moment, she'll lose all her nerve to continue. If she looks up she'll falter and carefully place the crayon in its box as she crumples the drawing up and throws it away. It has happened every day this week. She begins a picture but never finishes it. Each day though, she gets farther along. Monday she stopped at the first color: the background of robin's egg. Tuesday she had made it through that to the goldenrod before quitting. Once a day during free time she gets out the colors and starts the same picture again and today, Friday, she has gotten through eight colors and finally made it to the last and her favorite, red raspberry. It adds the final touch and it's perfect. Finally. She's safe to look up now because she has accomplished something and can share it with all the other kids in class, maybe even impress them. She sees them all playing in a few different small groups and realizes she is sitting alone at her desk with a silly little drawing in front of her. One that's taken a week to complete and suddenly she's not so proud. She places the color back in the box, always in its proper spot, and slowly puts the picture in the covered and private area of her personal desk. Throughout the rest of the day, she sneaks furtive glances under the lid at her handiwork, but it never again sees the fluorescent lights of the classroom.

~*~*~

She touches her hand to her face and is surprised to find it wet. She is also surprised to find she has fallen back into the bed and that the buzzing of her alarm clock has woken her. It's definitely about time she got up. She sits up and stretches while glancing around her small bedroom. It was fun to decorate her room all by herself, uninfluenced by anyone else. This room is all Pam. That may be what hurts most about it, though. It is only Pam. It's hard to find solace in your room when you've wished for so long that it could be someone else's room too. No point in thinking that though.

~*~*~

She is making tea when the doorbell rings. The insistent, sharp tones do nothing to alleviate her dull headache. Clad in a maroon bathrobe, fresh from a warm shower, she answers. It's just who she expected, and she can't tell if she's relieved or terrified. He has no visible injuries, but he must have heard if he's at her door.

They are both quiet for a moment, taking each other in. He stares down at her with an unreadable expression and she's sure she's wearing an identical one. It's as though she can't figure out what to feel, but she thinks it's rather close to defeat. Regardless, though, she certainly isn't going to be the one to speak up first; she didn't ring the doorbell. Besides, she doesn't know how much he's heard and is therefore unsure of what to say.

"I had a visitor."

"Oh," is all she can manage. She knows she should have called him, but just couldn't process anything going on in her own mind let alone consider what might happen to him.

He nods slightly and walks in uninvited. She doesn't say anything though, and just closes the door behind him. She sees him standing there, just looking around him before he turns to face her again.

"Curious at all?" he asks her, and it is kind of suspicious she hasn't said anything to him. It would be natural for her to question him about his statement, as opposed to her unresponsiveness so far.

She sits down on the couch before answering. She has to figure out what to say. This feels like a delicate situation and she wants to know what happened before making any assumptions. "Of course," she answers, "I'm just not sure what I should ask."

"'What happened?' seems appropriate, don't you think?" His voice is somewhat agitated. More though, he sounds weary as she feels.

"I do. Start with that."

He collapses onto the couch opposite her and closes his eyes for a moment. "Well, I suppose what happened to me was a result of your night." He opens his eyes and she can tell that he doesn't know what is going on. He's here for answers, and she really wishes Roy could have been kind enough to provide those for her. "Kevin showed up at my house along with Toby and Oscar. He said they were there to protect me, but they didn't know exactly why. All they could tell was that after he trashed the bar, Roy had the plan to come after me. And he did, but I suppose four on one didn't seem like an ideal situation, so he left, steaming as much as when he came." He paused, letting it all soak in and then continued. "I was told that you might be able to explain to me why I needed a third of the office males to protect my life last night."

She's surprised at how distant they are both being. They both had traumatic nights the day before, and neither one is showing concern for the other. It just doesn't seem normal. Was this how corrupted their relationship had become? She supposes they are both just trying to figure it all out and hopes this is the shake they need.

"Look," she begins carefully, "I meant to call you and warn you, but you have no idea what I felt like last night." At this, his face relaxes some of the tension it has been holding. Whatever he had been through had been nothing compared to her. After this declaration, she doesn't know where to go next. Her mouth opens and closes a few times, grasping for what to say. Finally, she gives up and figures if she was willing to lay it on the line for Roy, she can certainly do the same for him. "I told Roy...about us...last spring. I'm pretty sure you can figure out the rest. I just wanted to have a normal relationship for once. One where I didn't have to hide what I felt. So I told him I kissed you after you told me how you felt and that..." she sighs, knowing the truth would come out sooner or later, "and that I had the same feelings for you."

She stops talking because that's all that really needs to be said. It all out there. Finally. It took them a few tries, a few more colors each time, but it's out there. Finally a complete account of their feelings. And the possibilities look just as vibrant as she had imagined they would. The question now is whether they both feel confident enough to let everything into the light or whether they'll hide it, somewhere no one else can see it. Somewhere they can barely see it, themselves.

He answers the question by slowly moving his tall frame out of his seat and kneeling down in front of her on her couch. He's here and she's ready. Finally ready. It only takes a few moments for him to take both her hands, and she takes a short breath. She's surprised. Not because of anything that has transpired in the last few minutes, but because she's crying again and this time she's awake. The numbness is wearing off, but she doesn't mind the pain so much anymore. She's broken, true, but she will mend, even if the healing process is more painful than the breaking. The bone needs to be reset, she needs to treat the wound with anti-septic, she needs to relearn how to use the injured area again, and none of this will be pleasant but what makes it okay is that she knows she'll heal and that she won't be alone to do it. 

End Notes: Not to sound desperate, but I would love reviews, criticism and all!