Sharp pains lanced across her chest as she struggled to push herself up into a sitting position. Caught in the fog of a heavy sleep she closed her eyes, leaning back on the pillow, a half sitting, half slumped figure in the dim room. Pam took a deep breath which turned into a cough, then morphed into searing pains which had her clutching at her side. It was definitely time for another painkiller.

Lethargically Pam lifted herself out of the small bed and made her way to the staircase. In the cramped hallway she looked over at Jim's door, hanging slightly open. Walking over, she slowly opened the door and took a quick glance around the room. Jim's room was fascinating to her, it was like a peek into his brain waiting to be unwrapped. He surprisingly had some funky artwork on the walls, a wallboard pinned with cards and pictures and he actually had some books. Taking it all in, for the second time on seeing his room, Pam remarked to herself that there was a lot more to learn about Jim Halpert than he typically showed people. She wanted to look at the cards on the wallboard but the growing screams of pain in her side and chest made her turn around and slowly descend downstairs.

Jim was sitting on the couch – the same couch they had fallen asleep on last night – with a comic book in his hand. Pam smirked at the sight. It struck her as amusing that Jim would be into something so boyish and more so, something so Dwight in nature. He looked really into it, too. His eyes held that far away look of one who has drifted out of their own surroundings. She smiled at what seemed to her to be an intimate moment, Jim relaxed and lost in a world of superheroes. Altogether, it was rather cute to watch.

"Beesly!" he called good naturedly as she walked in. She nodded at him, feeling badly about disturbing him. Retrieving her painkillers from the side-table, she moved to the kitchen behind them and got some water.

She sat down beside him. "Batman, eh?" she pointed at the comic. Jim grinned at her sheepishly, closing the book and putting it on the table. He coughed.

"My nephews birthday." he grinned a little awkwardly.

Pam chuckled, then winced. "And you just had to read it first, right?" she joked, rubbing her side.

"Hey, I had to screen it, to check for decapitations or graphic nudity etc etc. So it doesn't warp his little mind, you know and he grows up mean."

"Decapitations?" she laughed. Jim observed her for a moment, then raised an eyebrow appreciatively.

"It's good to see you smiling, Beesly." He snickered. "I hope the stink in Mark's room didn't keep you from sleeping."

"The stink?" She said. She hadn't noticed any real odor, other than that intangible musky smell boys seemed to exude. Nothing unpleasant.

Jim looked mischievous. "Believe me, he could clear a room in seconds. When he really got going, he'd leave a stench so powerful that even his shadow went out for air."

Pam laughed again, then groaned as another coughing fit took her over. Jim got up and handed her the glass of water.

The couch dipped as he sat back down next to her. He turned to her with a less humorous expression.

"You doing okay?"

Pam smiled awkwardly back at him, idly fiddling with the hem of Jim's old Eagles shirt. She wasn't sure how to meet the elephant in the room head on. Jim had been so kind to her, but she wasn't sure she was doing the right thing imposing on him the way she was. He had done so much for her already.

Pam shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Thanks for coming with me today." she said, looking downcast.

Jim rubbed his palms against his thighs and smiled warmly. "No need, Beesly. Although I really, really feel terrible about missing the safety training with Dwight today. I might have to hate you a little for that." he teased.

"End of the world, huh?" she mused.

"Suicidal. I feel I can't fully appreciate the value of my life without a near death experience every six months." he rolled his eyes in jest, remembering the chaos of the last safety demonstration Dwight had arranged.

"We've only just finished untangling the file cabinets from the last one." Pam reminisced.

"Yes." Jim chuckled. "Are you okay about tomorrow?" he asked, leaning over to lift a piece of paper from the table. Passing it to Pam, he sat back and surveyed her. "The domestic violence advocate called as well."

Pam took the paper with shaking fingers, briefly glancing at the details written on it and put it down beside her on the couch.

Jim watched her curiously. She was looking down at the back of her hands which were nervously resting on her stomach, her mouth pursed and eyes distant. The pallid, unhealthy complexion of her skin only served to make the spreading purple bruises and discoloration much more vivid. She hadn't said much to him about Roy's treatment of her since she had arrived the night before, but it was obvious he only knew a small fraction of what she'd been through. He hadn't been allowed in the room with her when she made her statement to the police, but what she had told them had clearly been enough to put out an arrest warrant.

"Once we get word that they've got him, I'll drive you to your place to get whatever you need." Jim said, mulling over their visit to the police station that morning. He had bristled regarding the protective order, it was his point of view Pam needed something in place legally right away, something he had argued with the officer profusely over, but process being followed correctly was higher on the list of priorities. She needed some ID to file the order, but, as Jim maintained vigorously, it was too dangerous for Pam to go back to her house if there was a chance Roy might be there. He found it frustrating – the officer appeared to have two working eyes and a sympathetic smile, in his mind all he had to do was look at Pam's tormented face for all the proof they needed.

"About tomorrow-"

She cut him off briskly. "Jim, you need to go back to work tomorrow." she said. Jim frowned.

"No way, Beesly." he said fiercely. "Not until he's been picked up, I don't want you here alone."

"He knows I'm here." She said bluntly. Jim looked over at the quizzically. "I mean, you're not at work, he's not stupid, Jim. He'll know where I am."

"And hopefully by tomorrow, Roy will have been picked up, you'll have your things from home, the protective order will be filed and you'll have spoken to Toby about the office situation. Then I'll go back to work." he determined.

"It's just that," she practically whispered, still staring at the back of her hands. "I'm messing up your life. I hate that. I'm not your responsibility.

Jim balked. "Don't give me that, Beesly. We've been friends a long time."

She nodded. "You've been amazing, letting me stay here and going to the police and hospital with me this morning. That's above and beyond."

Eyebrows raised, Jim threw a look of somewhat mock indignation toward her. "Above and beyond? What would you have had me do instead? Say hey and walk you home?" Instantly he regretted his words as hurt tore through her face. He lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, ashamed. "That didn't come out the way I meant it."

"It's okay." She exhaled, wincing once more.

"How bad is it?" Jim asked kindly. Pam chewed her lip a moment, taking slow breaths inward.

"Like a tiger is eating away at my left side." She was looking very pale. Jim stood up and stretched upwards.

"I'll get you some ice." he said as he retreated into the kitchen area.

Pam picked up the piece of paper he had given her. Geraldine Howell was the name scrawled across the note in Jim's neat handwriting. She blinked. The name sounded kind of daunting to her, the kind of name you'd find on the door of any strict prinicipals' office. She hoped the woman wouldn't be dour in person when they met.

"You know, Beesly, just in case you were thinking of taking off 'cause you think you've inconvenienced me enough, you should know you're actually doing me a favor."

Pam took the ice pack from him and rolled her eyes. "Oh, really? She drawled in amusement.

"Yeah. My maid quit last week."

Pam stared at him in amazement. Jim burst out laughing at her expression before she softened and pushed him playfully in the arm.

"You're an idiot." she said affectionately.

"Seriously, though," he sobered up. "I don't expect you to leave because you think you're a problem. You're not and I'm really happy you are here and that you trusted me enough to come to me. You stay here as long as you need, please don't think otherwise. I'm not gonna kick you out."

Pam was quiet, he could see she was mulling things over. He wished she wasn't so insecure about accepting help, not thinking she was worth a dime. If he could just make things easier for her somehow.

"Of course, if it helps, there are rules here. No Dwight."

Pam gave a small snort and signed a cross over her chest. "Dwight free zone."

They fell into in a fairly comfortable silence, each mired in their own thoughts. Pam was nervous. Roy would be absolutely enraged when the police approached him. Then the protective order. Two strikes. Roy liked baseball metaphors. He'd deny it of course. Not because he didn't want to be caught, but because Roy truly believed he hadn't done anything wrong. She knew that. Did she think he would come after her? The thought terrified her beyond words. His voice echoed back to her on the couch. I don't really want to be here without you, Pam. You're a dumb bitch. It didn't hurt that much. I'll kill myself if you leave.

You made me do it.

That was the mother voice. She shook her head, trying to shove the voices out.

"Shall we get a pizza, Beesly?" Jim put a hand on her arm, bringing her back to the present.

Without warning Pam bolted up from the couch, cowering away across the room, looking around wildly. Tears welled up in her eyes. Jim was stunned by her reaction. She breathed hard, groaning at the icicles of pain in her side and chest.

She had panicked, stuck in the memories of Roy. For a moment she thought…. It wasn't even that he had touched her. It was his shadow she had noticed first, creeping up on her threateningly. Roy was right, she was a dumb bitch. Was she going to be jumping at Roy-shaped shadows every where she went?

Roy wasn't here, no one was going to hurt her here. She knew that. Getting herself under control she spoke with as much calm as she could muster and looked apologetically at Jim, who was looking at her intensely with concern all over his face.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I just… wasn't expecting you to – no that's not what I mean, I mean -"

"Forget it Beesly," he dismissed her antics with a cavalier wave. He didn't want her to see this kind of thing as a big deal or problem, hoping she would understand this was most likely a natural reaction of the abuse she had suffered. Still, his heart was breaking with pity for her, and burning with anger at Roy. "It's really okay. You're bound to be a bit jumpy. Don't worry about it."

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm scared." She said hesitantly. Jim crossed the room to her, carefully as not to startle her again. Very gently he laid a hand on her upper arm comfortingly.

"That's okay." he said. "I'm sure anyone who's been through what you have would be scared."

Pam nodded gratefully, wiping the stray tears from her eyes. They both turned at the sound of Jim's cell phone.

Jim listened quietly, speaking little and thanked the caller. He turned back to Pam with no small amount of triumph on his face.

"They've got him."

Pam didn't know whether to laugh or cry. In the end what came out was a mix of both.