Andy knew better than to answer her question.  He always answered enthusiastically the rare instances where Karen ever asked him for anything.  Those times left him feeling happy, feeling needed.  This time, though, for her own good, he'd stand his ground, hold firm, and refuse to be overpowered.  Andy's good intentions lasted all of five minutes.  Karen didn't overpower him, and he crumbled anyway.  He took his eyes off the road for a second to glance over at her.  She looked tired and haggard as expected, sitting with her knees pressed together and her elbows drawn tightly against her sides, as if fighting off a cold breeze.  She looked small.  Most troubling, though, was the eerie stillness in her eyes.  So off, so wrong.  Karen had always had busy eyes.  Unless they were glued to her monitor, those little green orbs tended to dart around the room, absorbing everything.  Andy had entertained himself over many a boring meeting by watching this phenomenon, and trying not to get caught when her glance would inevitably cycle to him.  Now, though, those lovely little greens were frozen, half open, staring dejectedly into her own lap.

Karen must have sensed his gaze.  She turned her head to the left and opened her eyes completely.  Her words caught Andy off guard.  That flat, piercing voice that she wielded with such skill was nowhere to be found.  He would not have believed he was listening to Karen if he hadn't seen the the barely audible, meek voice sliding from her lips directly.  So off, so wrong.  So beautiful.

"Andy, you saw him, didn't you?"

So beautiful...

"Yeah. I saw him."

"What did he say?"

As Andy reluctantly relayed his observations from Jim's solo return, through "it's a date," to the parking lot afterward, his inability to achieve anger was put to the test.  Karen looked away and nodded her head gently, but he could feel his words hurting her, heaping pain onto her already full plate.  He should have waited, dammit.  She was too shaken.  Her wounds were too fresh.  And he was supposed to be protecting her.  Unfortunately, stopping wasn't an option.  And then he heard it.  The quietest little sob.  He looked over again.  She was looking straight ahead, dabbing at an eye with a tissue.  For the second time in five years, he was moved by the way she didn't turn away and hide her face when she cried.  When she spoke, Andy sensed a failed attempt at defiance.  Sadness ruled the day.

"I never meant shit to him."

"Karen..." What could he say?  What was there to say?  Andy took his right hand off the wheel and set it just above her left knee, squeezing gently.  She closed her eyes and jerked her head back against the padded headrest a few times, making a small thud.

"I'm such an idiot... why'd I ever listen to that bastard?"

"Karen it's not..." Andy's reassurance was interrupted, her voice cracking this time, and accompanied by some fresh tears.

"He told me he loved me, Andy."  Her voice faded to a whisper.  "And I believed him."

Andy wasn't going to press her.  He thought about singing for her, or pulling over to offer her a hug, but decided to focus on finishing their drive first.  He patted her leg again and was only partially surprised when Karen continued, preempting a question that he didn't think was appropriate to ask.

"Right after you were sent to anger management.  He told me he still had feelings for Pam, and when I went to dump him he kept assuring me it was only residual crap and he was with me now.  I was so done, but he fed me five whole nights of what I thought were heartfelt feelings and I bought it all.  He practically begged me not to go and told me he loved me, and like an idiot I believed him."

As she spoke, Andy tried to nod his head slowly in an understanding way, all the while trying to convince himself that it was something other than anger burning at his brow from the inside.  Lying to Karen was one thing.  Using those words to lie to that woman was beyond him.  Certainly not a lie he could ever bring himself to tell.  He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, and fought the urge to take a symmetrical action with his right hand, which still sat reassuringly on Karen's leg.  His ears were burning as she continued.

"And he did it again after Phyllis' wedding, and it felt so real that time.  I'm such an idiot.  What's my problem, Andy?"

She slumped down in the seat.  Andy felt her lay her hand on top of his and squeeze gently.  Her grip was cold, and he could feel her shaking ever so slightly.  He looked over again.  She looked back.  Such a strong woman.  Such a weak state.  So tough, so vulnerable.  So beautiful.

"It's not your fault, Karen.   Your only problem is that Tuna is a giant fraud.  I pegged him for a backstabbing suckup, but you couldn't have known he'd lie about something like that.  Sit tight.  We're almost at my place.  There's something I want to show you, and then you get your choice of air mattress or sleeping bag."

"It's OK, Andy.  A hot shower, my own bed.  I'll be OK."

"Sure you will, but It'll be a hell of a long night.  Just trust me.  At the very worst, you can get really drunk and I'll be around to take care of you.  OK?"

Andy forced himself to look at the road.  A crash might take her mind off Jim, but it wouldn't do much good in the long run.  But he snuck another glance over, and there it was again.  That little hint of a smile underneath those sad eyes.

"OK. The bag then."