Everyone in the room froze. Pam held her breath, looking between the two men, a jumble of terror and anger quarrelling inside her.

Jim had hit Roy. He had punched him. Okay, it wasn't the hardest of blows – hard enough to knock Roy on his ass, not that Roy was the most co-ordinated man to begin with – but not hard enough to do any real damage. Jim had hit Roy. Roy hit people. She was surrounded by anger and testosterone. An intense wave of unreality rushed upwards through her.

The world muted. Everything went blank inside of her. She couldn't hear the words bounding around her, two bitter voices tangling together in the small room. Somebody roughly caught hold of her wrist and somebody was shouting and she wanted to move but her legs were stuck, they wouldn't bend, they wouldn't move. The walls shook up and down and in horror she saw the lounge – the lounge she had so carefully and lovingly furnished, the knick knacks that Roy hated and the fake flowers she so regularly moved around, the TV, the chairs – it was all unfamiliar at that moment. She didn't know where she was.

Before Pam understood what was happening, her hand was grasping the door handle, she had moved, was moving, only it wasn't really her, a stranger had somehow inhabited inside her and she was stepping out of the door, out of the house, straight out into some sort of illusory world with bare feet and no idea where she was headed.

-TO-

It was only after Roy turned to order Pam upstairs that the two arguing men noticed she was no longer in the room. Of course, they both had seen her moving across the lounge, but it was with the peripheral vision of those intensely embroiled in a quarrel, they had simply seen her, a figure in the background.

Roy was furious. He'd been assaulted by Halpert, that scrawny girlfriend stealing idiot. Roy had looked like a fool, falling on his ass like that, Halpert's intention no doubt. And Pam had stood there – useless as always and doing absolutely nothing to restore the honor of the man she supposedly cared for. She hadn't spoken a word, she had stood in silent approval of Halperts actions. And then the bitch had walked out. Roy shouted at Halpert to get the hell out of his house and he would see him in court for assault. Roy was no idiot. He knew Halpert would be foolish enough to fight back if he got up and struck him in retaliation. Oh, no. He had come close, extremely close to knocking that smug look right out of his eyes and them giving him a few more lessons to think on. However, a strong feeling had come over him that Pam would side with Halpert in the matter – he had seen the looks that flit between the two when he arrived. Guilty, shifting glances. He knew what was going on. He would pay Halpert back later, after a certain brunette had come to her senses and got her ass home, if he didn't find her himself first.

Jim left the fuming man behind and stamped out. He ran up and down the sidewalks in search of Pam. It was like she had just vanished. He was furious with himself for letting her go like that, in the state she was in. He wasn't particularly sorry about hitting Roy – that had been kind of a pleasurable moment – but he remembered how she had reacted when he suggested he talk to Roy with her; she had been petrified. It was the only thing she had asked of him; begged even.

But what was he supposed to do? Roy got rough with her, he abused her, he humiliated her and right in front of him. Was he supposed to let Roy beat her? And she had walked out without a word to either of them.

Oh sure, Roy hadn't hit back – bullies picked on smaller or weaker people in theory, Roy was probably intending to pay that debt back to Pam in spades, and Jim, having taken the first step now was not going to back off and watch her being at risk. Jim saw how Roy could easily beat her senseless without even using his fists – such disgusting, degrading things he had said about her. He roiled, feeling like he was boiling in hot water.

As for Roy calling the cops on him, Jim almost laughed. The man was so deluded.

He headed back and got in his car, desperately worried for her. Where would she have gone? He tried to think; she was upset; emotional. She wouldn't have gone to the office. She didn't want to go to her Mom. She was far away anyway and Pam had taken nothing with her. He didn't know if she had any friends outside of himself. Sometimes she seemed to have a somewhat friendship with Angela, but he quickly dismissed that idea.

He drove around the area, frustrated and worried, looking out everywhere for her.

-TO-

Pam lay on her side, her head resting comfortably in the feathery grass. She twitched occasionally, shaking out the sting in her blistered feet.

She'd been there hours. She'd walked and walked on, detached from her surroundings, disconnected from her body. She wasn't real. She just was.

She'd floated into the park, gravitated to the shelter of the trees and hidden herself away. There were, surprisingly, no tears. She felt nothing. As she rested, exhausted, confused, numb – things began to slowly swim back into focus. She recalled the events of the day hazily – if pressed she couldn't describe exactly what had happened; what had been said and she certainly couldn't remember clearly leaving the house as she had.

She had been angry at Jim. He had knocked Roy down. Her stomach swirled sickly as she thought of Roy. She knew he would be absolutely livid. What if he had hurt Jim? Jim who never really done anything to hurt anyone, not intentionally. She imagined all kinds of dreadful outcomes – blood, ambulances, hospital, body casts. Her mind overworked. It would be all her fault.

But anger had been the first emotion swelling up in her when Roy was on the floor. Not at Roy, but at Jim. Was that right, or fair? Because Jim had used violence. She would never have thought that of easy going, kind Jim. It took a lot to get him really worked up about something. Now it seemed he was no better than all the other men. All that testosterone. Jim had acted like Roy. She wanted to hate him for that, she really did.

But as she slowly came back to herself, her mind reconnected and focused as the hours wore on, she realized she was being unfair. She was so mixed up. Jim and Roy were not the same, far, far from the same. She couldn't blame him. Jim had punched Roy when he insulted her and shoved her. Jim's outrage was on her behalf. He didn't just go off half cocked smacking people. Jim had done it for her. He was a good man.

Roy hit… she admitted it, she good as admitted it to Jim earlier. But it was true. Somehow a smokescreen was being blown away from her life and she could see the cold, ugly truths laid out dead in front of her. She had to make a decision. Jim had been right. She had to admit it. She had to change. She would die, if she didn't.

Shakily, she stumbled up on her aching, bloody feet and walked out of the park, determination set in her stride.