Pam felt panic strike her like a bolt of electricity. She was caught, as trapped as a bird in a cage. Images flashed before her eyes; sensations, her thrown on her back pinned against the rugged carpet, cold crazed eyes flashing dangerously above her; fists recoiling fast hard hard hard blows. Screams rang in her ears. Curling her fingers up, nails prodding into her palm, she trembled in the middle of the living room. In that moment she saw the situation unfolding before her without doubt; she had fled, run for her life and here he was – smashing the restraining order less than 12 hours after it was invoked.

She quickly hit three numbers on Jim's phone.

She was not going to go back into the kitchen. She was not going to see Roy's face, his calm face, the face she had genuinely cared for before but now- she feared if she went out there she'd end up opening the door. She didn't want to hear what he had come to say. It didn't matter.

A harried phone voice spoke in her ear. Pam asked for the police. After what was in reality only a few seconds later but felt like an eternity, another lady spoke. Pam gave her the address and the circumstances. The lady asked if she needed an ambulance and told her not to hang up.

Outside, Roy had begun to shout, loud, garbled words she couldn't separate. Her shoulders sagged. The minutes went by in a rushing blur. Pam choked out breaths that were coming in quick sharp bursts and the operator kindly encouraged her to stay calm.

But, hearing his voice grow in pitch through the window, through the walls, through her – she was swept away in dual panic and anger. Moving fast, she pulled the blinds shut in the living room. She ran upstairs, shutting all the curtains and windows, and fled back down the hall, taking a sharp right into Jim's bedroom. Dropping down onto the floor and falling against the bed, Pam drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. Her name called out of the phone anxiously.

All she could hear was his voice, still calling her, louder, louder, fiercer. She'd known he would come to Jim's, she'd known he would have been waiting. She was a damn idiot to think a restraining order would stop him. She wasn't safe anywhere. Roy wasn't calm anymore, as he had been when he appeared at the window. Great bellows of rage penetrated the walls, flew up the stairs and assaulted her. She shuffled backwards, into the right angle of the bed against the wall. Laying her head back down on top of her arms, she left the phone down by her side, the operators worried tone pleading with her to talk to her.

Abruptly, the yells outside ceased. A loud knock on the door startled her, and instinctively she curled herself further against the bed, sinking her face into the deep feathery warmth of the blanket. A strong comforting petrichor filled her senses, vibrant and grounded, evoking a memory of the green piney scent of the fresh cut Christmas tree her dad would bring home each December. It was something in that scent that drew her back to focus, something so essentially human that brought her back to herself, a deep comforting feeling that swelled up and settled in her. She would be okay. The police were coming. She had to hang on, not lose her head.

She squeezed her eyes closed, holding her head against the comforter, waiting, praying she wouldn't hear the tell tale footsteps stamping up to the second floor, praying he wouldn't get up here and hurt her again, praying her heart wouldn't explode out of her chest… praying, inhaling the woodsy, earthy scent of Jim's sheets into her like a calming elixir.

She counted her breaths, deep and soothing, over and over again. There were voices downstairs now, voices overlapping, voices calling her name. Pam kept up her count, breathing steadily. Her mind was being pushed into blackness, she began to fear she would pass out. The voices were coming closer and closer, louder, on the stairs, in the hallway and then finally, in the room with her.

"Oh, thank god!" Jim exhaled in obvious relief at seeing her apparently unharmed. He rushed over to her and gently caught hold of her chin, lifting her head towards him.

"Are you okay, are you hurt?" he questioned frantically, observing her quivering, pale face and deep, raspy breathing.

Opening her eyes, Pam saw Jim's concerned expression leaning over her as the room unblurred. Two policemen were standing behind him.

"Ma'am? Were you hurt?" One of them – a tall lean man demanded abruptly. Jim turned and put up a hand, signalling to the officer to stay back.

"Hey," Jim lightly rubbed her shoulder. "You're okay, Beesly. Deep breaths." Seeing the woman was close to a full on panic attack, Jim picked up her hand from on top of her knee and held it safely in his own warm hand, cajoling her to breathe. After a few moments she raised her head and Jim again asked her if she was okay.

"He didn't come inside." She said, with a quick shake of her head.

"Roy was here?" Jim said dully. Pam gazed at him with a knowing look in her eye. Jim closed his eyes, red hot anger burning up in him. Behind her reception desk, Pam was lively and just a little shy. Jim loved the sweetness that was so natural to her, her kindness towards others, her love of mischief, the way she kept her true passions hidden to herself, yet coming alive with them in small moments when she was encouraged.

The woman cowering in front of him now was drawn, drained. Beautiful, yes – he didn't think he'd ever see her as anything but – but haunted, her eyes faded and dull like dry pools sunk back into her head. Beneath her tired expression hurt and fear flashed; the price for loving Roy Anderson, Jim thought bitterly.

"Ma'am?" the more assertive of the two police officers spoke up again. "It looks like someone hit you; can you tell us what happened?"

Pam only looked at Jim pleadingly, and then began to cry.

-TO-

At six-thirty that evening Jim's phone rang.

Pam, who had been laying on the couch, sat wearily up out of a thick dark sleep. Jim walked out of the kitchen, glancing at her apologetically as he reached for the phone. Pam yawned and rubbed her face.

"Hello?"

Lifting the cushion her head had been on moments ago and positioning it behind her, Pam noticed she was covered under the blue throw blanket again and looked over at Jim, realizing he must have put it there. She had a full view of his back as he stood with the phone to his ear, and as she watched she saw his posture stiffen, little muscles in his torso flexing and turning rigid.

"Hey!" Jim said tightly. "Don't you even-"

He broke off and was silent. Pam watched uncomfortably, a heavy feeling descending in her abdomen.

"That," his voice brooked no room for negotiation. "is not going to happen."

He was angry, about as angry as she had ever witnessed of him – Jim, the most mild tempered person she knew – was even deeper in rage at that point than he was at the moment he had punched Roy. She heard him respond furiously, uttering a colorful exclamation on realizing the caller was gone.

Jim did not turn around right away. Pam wanted to ask what had happened on the call – who was calling, although she was positive she knew, yet she kept quiet choosing to let him cool down a little, if that was indeed what he was doing.

When he did turn back to her, his face was flushed red, his jaw hard and set in restrained ire. Pam sat forward, shocked and unnerved by the change in him.

"Jim?" she asked with a nervous tone. She did not meet his eyes.

Jim seemed to grow angrier on the back of the slight question, his face muscles drawing tight and deepening in shade. Pam froze in place on the couch, anticipating an explosion of fury. Instead she felt herself being wrapped in a strong hug, Jim dipping down beside her on the couch.

Involuntarily she stiffened against him, but if he noticed he didn't let go. Pam inched a little closer, breathing in his scent which was so different from Roys, who always had a slight ripe cheese aroma hanging around him. The woody, natural scent of Jim was comforting, Jim always smelled so fresh- she didn't know why but it almost felt like a drug to her and she once again found herself feeling a calming sensation because of it. She relaxed and leaned into him.

"Was it Roy?" her words came out muffled against his shoulder. Jim drew back, looking anguished.

"Yeah. But don't worry about it." he said quickly, seeing her tense up again. He met her eyes. "I'm sorry Beesly, I think I might have scared you a bit there."

Pam emphatically shook her head. "No, no you didn't. What did he say?" she pleaded.

He bristled, flashing her a sad smile. "He just wanted to talk to you, that's all."

"Is that all he said?"

Jim flinched. "He was mad that I wasn't going to put you on and then he hung up. That's all Pam. It just made me angry."

She was thoughtful. "The other day, at home…. I'd never seen you really angry before. And then you punched Roy. Really punched him." she stopped and pulled back out of his arms, looking down at her knees. "I-I was… a little mad at you for that." she said, her cheeks reddening.

Jim looked at her incredulously, frowning.

"It's not what you think," she quickly added. "I don't remember really what happened. I mean, I was there and then I left. But I was… terrified… and I don't know what happened. I shut down. After I left I felt numb, upset that you of all people were just another violent man, quick to punch and anger."

'Me of all people?' Jim thought, utterly confused and not understanding at all what she was trying to say.

"Let me finish," she said softly, seeing Jim preparing to interrupt her. "This is really… hard. It's….do you know... it's a terrible thing to not feel safe in your own home. Your home is the one place you should always be safe. He took that from me." Pam hunched into herself, leaning forward slightly on the seat.

"I wasn't being fair." sheepishly she met Jim's eye, and just as quickly dropped her gaze to her lap again.

"Fair?" he asked in bewilderment.

"Roy gets mad at little things. A dirty glass, not finding the remote where he expected it, me being a minute late… Sometimes he's just mad and you will never know why. I guess he doesn't always have a reason." she added, a touch of bitterness lacing her words.

Jim studied her thoughtfully, saying nothing.

"When you punched him…. It was like you were just another Roy. That wasn't fair." Pam looked up, expecting to see disgust in his eyes. To her surprise, the same warm, kind and ever familiar friendly light twinkled at her. She drew in a breath.

"That's the reason I left."

Jim's looked so perplexed that she managed a small, sly grin.

"You left because Roy was hurting you-" she waved a hand, shushing him.

"No. Well, yes. That was why I wanted to leave… but not why I did it. Do you understand?"

Jim nodded, still not really understanding though.

"You were angry, not for the sake of being angry, not because of something small that amounts to nothing, not because I'd done anything to make you angry…. But simply… because he was threatening me. Roy has only ever used his anger against me, never for me. He's never stood up for me, or been outraged on my behalf. He says what he does is to protect me.. he says he does it because he loves me and I disappoint him… but," she broke off, choking back emotion. "But that's not protection or love, is it?"

Jim smiled back at her with a sad expression. He really didn't know what he should say, but what he wanted to say was how much he loved her and how he would never hurt her, physically or otherwise. What he wanted more than anything was to plead with her to give him a chance to show her what love really was, and that men weren't all like Roy. He held his tongue, knowing without a doubt that expressing how he felt at that moment would be the worst thing he could possibly do. He would be taking advantage of her, she would undoubtedly leave. She needed a friend, he had to respect that.

"No," he said, a little choked up.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, that you made me open my eyes."

Jim stared at her, his mouth slightly open, completely taken aback. "Well… that's alright then Beesly… I'm glad to have done my part…" he mumbled, half teasing. He simply did not know how to react. He was touched at the core by her declaration of him being the reason she left that day.

"You know what my Mom would tell me when I was a kid and I woke up from a bad dream?"

Jim shook his head..

"The nightmare stops when you open your eyes. So, I guess I'm saying thank you. For, well…. Everything." she said quietly.

"You're welcome, Beesly." Jim said, meaning it. His expression turned mischievous. "I think I like this new assertive Pam Beesly. I hope she hangs around."

She managed a small laugh, flinching at a stab of pain in her side. She was overdue her painkiller.

"Where did Roy call from?" she was tentative again.

"I don't know… " he pondered. "The police picked him up, he must be in custody. It needs to be reported to them. Phone calls are a breach of the order too, even if it was my number he called." He could see she wasn't convinced. He put a hand on her wrist. "You're safe here, you know that, right?"

Pam thought about it. She did feel okay about being there. In the end, all things considered she supposed that in the big picture, she was actually pretty fortunate after all.