Pam wasn't sleeping that night.

Forward the hours moved and different shades of darkness came and went. The pain was bad tonight. Every time she began to drift away into the hazy regions of sleep, the throbbing ache in her left side roared to life as though a hot brand was being applied to her ribcage.

Normally she slept curled up on her side, more often than not her right side, with her knees drawn up to her stomach and one hand under the pillow; however tonight when she laid on her right side she was faced with a pressing need to cough. She tried holding one of her pillows against her chest as she coughed, pushing her face into the pillow still under her head to stifle the noise.

She tried to sleep on her injured side which only provoked the stabbing pains into a full on attack, and re-awoke the dull ache from the bruising around the left side of her face. Lying flat on her back caused a similar discomfort, along with the added bonus of slow, shallow breaths pulling waves of pain in and out.

She settled upright, as she also had on the night Roy had expressed his horror at her late return from the visit to her mom and dad. In between harsh coughing fits, now using her blanket to muffle the sounds, reruns of the last few years played through a movie screen in her head. Every bruise, every cut, every time she was dragged across a carpet, every hurtful thing he had ever said to her played out unremorsefully. But the night she escaped, she had left the meek, subservient Pam behind in that house with him, the Pam who was so deluded and dumb that she had no idea of the depths of his darkness until she was on the floor under him, punch after punch coming, with wild, furious eyes boring into her.

She truly believed he might have killed her that night.

She didn't know when she would see him next. The police had him, but what happened when they let him out? Of course they would let him out! He would come for her. Again and again. It didn't matter if she was the feeble, submissive Pam, or the Pam who had actually dared to fight back that night and leave, he would come for them both.

She lay, absorbed in these thoughts and images around her as the dawn drew close. The morning began to open up and the darkness was fading to a shimmery silver shade, and Pam was so far away in her mind and memories that she failed to notice the bedroom door slowly slide open and the heavy thump thump thump of footsteps shuffling across the floor towards her. She did not see the long, dark arms stretching out over her, thick black shadows falling across her face.

The large, callused hands wound around her throat like a hangman's noose, crushing her windpipe with rage, snapping her hyoid bone. Pam struggled against her attacker, letting out a raw, visceral scream that opened up an entire new world of agony in her left side.

She spluttered and choked, stinging tears raining down her cheeks as she tried to push herself back into a sitting position.

Before she knew what was happening, the door to the bedroom flew open, the room burst into light and Jim was running across the floor.

"God!" He exclaimed. "What on… are you alright?"

She was a mess, coughing harshly, shivering violently. Frantically she batted away his hand as he reached out to her.

"Hey," he whispered, not wanting to frighten her further. "Hey, Pam, it's just me." He heard the thin, raspy breathing coming from her, saw the way she was leaned over on her left side, her face a picture of agony.

"It was a dream, Pam, wake up. There's no one here but me." he said, reaching out to her again.

"He was…" she gasped out. "here." Jim frowned, and shook his head emphatically.

"No, no, there's no one here but me. We're safe, I promise." he said, catching hold of her hand. "Let me get you some water." he said, frowning at her coughing and shot off downstairs. Within a minute he was back with a full glass, which he set down on the night table.

Kneeling down beside the bed, Jim reached out and very gently lifted her chin. In his hand was a small towel. "You've got a little…" he said, motioning to her face with the towel. At some point in the night, her split lip had opened up and dripped to her chin. Pam sat shaking, breathing hard but didn't move and allowed him to clean away the blood under her mouth.

Jim worked quietly, wondering at her disorientation. He didn't have much experience with nightmares or night terrors, whatever this was. Job done, he handed her the glass. She swallowed small gulps of the water with another painkiller, nearly choking again in the process. She turned to Jim, face flushed with embarrassment.

"I'm really sorry." she groaned at him, closing her eyes and scrunching her forehead.

Jim sighed. Here we go again, he was thinking. "You're not the one who should be sorry." he spat, a little more forcefully than he intended. He got up off the floor and then sat himself down on the edge of the bed. "You're a mess, Beesly." He said with as much kindness as he could. "You want me to stay?"

Pam looked troubled, fully awake now. "Oh, uh… I'll be okay.." she mumbled, clutching the blanket around her. Jim wasn't convinced.

"You sure?" he frowned, observing her shining eyes and tear stained cheeks. "Maybe I'll just sit here for a bit."

Pam settled back somewhat agreeably. With shaking hands she placed the glass back on the night table.

"Want to talk about it?" Jim said, referring to her nightmare.

Pam thought a moment. "You're a great shoulder to lean on, Jim. You are. But… you can't carry my problems for me."

"I can help you carry them though."

She looked pensive. "Things are kind of dark in my head right now. You're not about that. You're all about fun stuff and jokes and doing nice things for other people. All the times you've bailed Michael out or gone along with his wacky ideas just so his feelings don't get too hurt. You'd even help Dwight out if he needed it, annoying as he is."

Jim laughed. "Yeah, I am pretty great."

"You don't need this drama in your life. I've already overburdened you enough."

"Pam," Jim warned, turning serious again. "We went through this. Why is it so hard for you to believe that I want to help you?"

"It doesn't feel right. I'm taking advantage."

"Cut the crap, Beesly." He said amiably enough. "If it makes you feel better you can do all my copies for the next year. And on that thing Michael calls a copier, it will take you a year to finish."

"I do that anyway!" she exclaimed. Jim blanched, remembering. It was an effective flirting technique, teasing each other over the office facilities.

"Remember when Dwight thought he'd been cloned?" Jim said, smirking.

Pam smiled at the memory. "I still can't believe you pulled that off."

"He ran round the building at least 6 times, looking for himself." He said, relieved to see her much more relaxed."Remind me to ask security if there's a tape of that."

"You're doing a pretty good job of distracting me, Halpert." Pam said with a small smile.

"I told you, I'm pretty great."

Pam was actually enjoying the easy, comfortable banter between them. Just a short while ago she was screaming, believing she was dying and now she wanted to laugh… she knew what Jim was doing, playing the fool, making her giggle and relax. Really, he always seemed to know what best to do to handle her when she was upset. She loved that about their friendship, that they instinctively knew exactly how to help each other when needed. He was right though, even though he'd been joking. He was great. Actually, he was pretty amazing, all things considered.

"I am sorry I woke you up, though." She said.

"Don't be sorry about that, Beesly." he said mischievously. "I was having a bad dream myself. A couple more minutes and I might have screamed too."

Pam raised her eyebrows and drawled in amusement. "Really?"

"Oh yeah." Jim was trying his best to look sincere. "Michael was trying to recreate the end of dirty dancing in the office. I just missed the big lift."

She grimaced. "Who was he lifting?"

"He was the one being lifted. Now that is a nightmare."

They both laughed.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

She was nervous again. "Um, once the next court hearing is done, I was thinking I'd go visit my parents."

She sensed a change in the atmosphere that she couldn't quite pinpoint. Jim was looking at her sadly, a touching expression that confused her. She did feel a little guilty about the idea she would be somewhat up and abandoning him after everything he had done for her. She was worried he didn't know how appreciative she was for everything. He had after all, been there every step of the road. Plus, since Mark had gone and he'd not found another roommate yet, he probably enjoyed the company.

She rushed to reassure him. "I mean, I would only go for one or two weeks. Then I might be ready to come back to work."

Privately, Jim suspected that might be a long way off, but kept quiet.

"I just don't want you to think-"

"It's okay Pam. Some time with your mom will probably do you good."

"Yeah." She said awkwardly, looking downward.

"Aww, Beesly. It's almost six am." Jim said, getting up from the bed. "If you're doing okay, I'll go catch another hour or two of sleep." He turned to leave the room.

Pam climbed out of bed, wincing at the throbbing in her side. She shuffled over to him, moving slow as an elderly woman. Jim turned back, his face questioning.

Pam walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Even as she was doing it, she didn't know why other than in that moment she had felt an uncontrollable urge to hug him. Jim relaxed and she felt his gentle hands rubbing her back.

"Thank you." She whispered, closing her eyes and holding on tight. "For everything."