The footpath stretched out in front of them, draped in shadows that were grey and somewhat translucent. The two of them ambled along the track, weaving in and out of the darkness that lay between the rays of light. It felt magical to Pam, to be outdoors breathing pure, clean air, strolling underneath god like trees standing high and smug. They looked so strong; after all they had probably stood there about a hundred years or so and had withstood who knew what. She looked up at them in awe as she walked, suddenly feeling very fragile. The shadows dangled over them like black veils, formless and impossible. She decided she was going to walk in the sunlight as much as she could from that point on. She had wasted too much time in the dark.

Jim smiled warmly at the contented way she was meandering leisurely along the path. She was looking more relaxed than he had seen her in a long time. It was giving him a wonderful feeling to watch her casually pointing out the peeling bark of the birch trees, lamenting that they hadn't brought any nuts or dried fruit for the squirrels.

It had been a spur of the moment idea to come this far out, but definitely worthwhile, he thought.

"You know, Beesly, I think we're gonna get wet." He looked up at the sky thoughtfully.

"S'okay." she replied, seemingly unconcerned. Jim laughed. She turned to him with an amused expression.

"Yes, Halpert?"

"Oh, nothing." he said, still chuckling.

"You always laugh at nothing?" She replied cheerfully. "Teach me that, I'll be amused forever."

To her growing confusion, he laughed even harder.

"Well? Are you seeing something funny out here that I'm not, Halpert?" she said. Jim nodded merrily.

"I might just be, Pam. Might just be."

Pam stared at him for a moment in amazement. "Suck it, Halpert." she waved him off with a quick giggle. Jim ambled along beside her, deeper into the woods.

"It's just that," he said, turning serious. He kicked at an array of dead leaves on the path. "Well… um… it's you, actually."

"Me?"

He wore a sheepish grin. "It's just that I haven't seen you enjoying yourself…. acting so …..free in a really long time."

She was unperturbed. "I feel like a different person out here. This was a good idea."

Truthfully she hadn't wanted to leave the house, when Jim suggested going for a walk her impulse reaction had been one of terror. The thought of leaving the house frightened her, and on foot no less – meaning that if Roy – or Kenny – approached them, they couldn't just get in a car and drive away. And Pam knew that with the injuries she was still healing, there was no way she could out run Roy if it came to it.
But Jim had coaxed her out the door with him, reminding her she wasn't out alone and that both Roy and Kenny seemed to back off when she wasn't alone. While she didn't believe this fully – she knew Roy in a full state of fury after all, she went anyway. It was wonderful being somewhere else, somewhere fresh and new.

"I was thinking about Roy." she said suddenly. Jim turned to her questioningly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm his prisoner." she said sadly. "Wherever I am I'm looking out for him. He could call me, maybe he'd even break into your house to get to me. If he's drunk enough." she added bitterly.

"Of course you're afraid." he said kindly. "Maybe though he'll never come near you again."

Pam stopped walking and turned to face Jim. "You're a great salesman, Jim." she said despondently. "But I'm not buying that. You know better than that."

Jim did know better. Of course he had noticed her glancing out the window at every opportunity where she thought he might not notice. Noticed her flinching whenever one of their phones rang. This behaviour had only increased since Kenny's unscheduled drop by yesterday. And of course he worried about Roy getting to her somehow. Roy somehow getting to her and hurting her again was an agonizing prospect that kept him awake until early hours.

"Sorry." he said genuinely, cursing himself for being so glib towards her. "I just meant we can always hope for the best. You have the safety plan, and you won't stay alone while he's any kind of a threat to you. I… uh.. didn't mean it in any… well you know."

"Yeah." she mumbled, feeling the first sprinkles of fine rain fall over her. "He could be anywhere. Anywhere. Out here. At home. The office." she hung her head helplessly.

"Hey." Jim said calmly. "Pam, he won't touch you again."

"He…..umm… really scared me." she admitted, her eyes wide. "He still scares me." she crossed her arms over her chest, shivering slightly. "That bastard." she added, uncharacteristically. She looked at Jim with a pleading, somewhat guilty expression. Jim grinned wisely.

"That's it Beesly." he cheered. "Go on."

Pam raised her eyes level to Jim, as if seeking approval. He smiled and nodded to her.

"Bastard." She said, much more confidently. "He should know how it feels."

"Go for it, Beesly." he encouraged.

"Bastard!" she was loud. "He should know how it feels to be terrified every day, in his own home. To be isolated from everyone. To be beaten-"

Pam cut her words off sharply, kicking at the ground.

"You're angry." Jim said simply. "Anger is good. You've been keeping it all inside. Better to let it out now and again, Pam."

Pam shook her head. The rain around them was now beginning to fall in great fat teardrops that splashed over her arms and left tiny pools in her curls.

"You are devious, Jim Halpert." she admonished lightly.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"Actually… yeah, a little." she said softly. "Thank you."

"Come on Beesly," Jim wrapped an arm around her shoulders and began to lead her back along the footpath. "Let's walk home, before we have to swim there." He said as the rain began to splatter down at a blinding pace.

Together they navigated the way through the woods and back on to the path and towards Jim's house, occasionally yelling to one another over the downpour. The rain was now coming down so hard it was difficult to see, and neither of them wore a jacket. Pam caught hold of Jim's arm gratefully as he led the way home.

By the time they had reached the house, they were both drenched and laughing at the wet state of each other. Pam stumbled upstairs and at Jim's insistence, took a quick bath first. While she was struggling to dry her hair with one hand – she still couldn't lift her left arm up high enough – she heard the rain-like sound of the shower running, which made her chuckle a little, realising the downpour had stopped already. She stood up and looked out of the little window in the bedroom, scanning the back end of the outside of the house.

Then she went downstairs to put on some hot coffee and check the front windows.

-TO-

Jim came downstairs a short while later, dry and smiling.

"Remember when Michael drove his car into the lake?" he said, with a laugh.

Pam nodded, thinking back. "Yeah."

"A machine told me to drive into a lake." they said in unison and laughed.

"Jinx!" they both cried out.

After a few minutes back and forth of exactly who was jinxed, they agreed to settle it later with a bet.

"Bring it Beesly." Jim dared amiably, stretching. Pam frowned at him.

"Hey, what's wrong with your back, or is it your neck?" she said, spotting the grimace of pain that flashed across his face.

"Slept weird." he said nonchalantly. Pam pointed out his coffee, and took her own into the other room. She motioned to the floor in front of the couch.

"Sit down." she said.

"On the floor, Beesly? What do I make the couch look messy?"

"Yes, actually." she teased. "Sit down."

Perplexed, he complied and sat down. Pam positioned herself behind him on the couch and then reached out to him. Tilting his head slightly, she began to massage his neck carefully.

"My mom taught me and my sister how to do this." she said, working slowly. It was easier with Jim on the floor, lower down, with her having to work one handed and not lifting her arms too high. "Feel better?"

Jim smiled carefully. "Yeah. Thanks." he said, a little tension creeping over his words.

Pam worked quietly after that, turning herself to the side to compensate for not being able to use her left arm.

Jim sat, bewilderment overwhelming him. He wanted to tell her to stop, to get up and leave the room. He also did not want her to stop. He loved having her living there with him, loved that she trusted him but he could not deny any longer the quarreling feelings inside him were becoming unbearable at times. He sat there, as she worked wonders on his neck muscles, quietly absorbed in his own inner conflict and ruminations of what could have been.