Breakfast was the last thing on anyone's mind that morning. Jim was hovering uneasily outside the bathroom door, where an unpleasant groaning was emerging from inside. Pam had been in there roughly quarter of an hour already by his own watch, emitting various retches and heaving sounds that would make even the least sensitive stomach lurch in kind. She had left the water running in a feeble attempt at disguising the noises, resulting in a sickening double suction effect. Jim was sympathetic to her plight – he knew she wasn't sick. He could quite easily guess what the problem was.

When Pam finally felt safe enough to leave the bathroom, Jim was leaning casually against the wall holding a cool glass of water out to her.

"Maybe you should get your prescription filled." he suggested, making a mental note to later mention that she might want to get something to help her sleep as well. His own stomach rolled at the sight of her, pale as paper, her skin waxy and taut with bruised purplish smudges under her eyes. Her curls, which were a part of her he loved, part of what made her her; looked like straw that had gone through the washer and dryer and barely lived to show for it.

"Okay?" he prodded gently when she didn't answer. Pam gave him a sad smile and headed towards the stairs. Jim followed her down to the kitchen.

He watched her flitter about the small room nervously, the quick, short movements of her hands as she set about wiping down the kitchen table.

"Pam." He raised an eyebrow as she began to work on a kitchen chair, scrubbing the wooden seat with a furious burst of energy.

"Pam." Jim repeated, a little more forcefully. He moved closer to her. He thought maybe he'd been wrong; she certainly didn't look well this morning, her lips pale and skin even paler under dark, puffy eyes. "Hey. Stop." he pleaded.

Pam looked up at him, scowling, her pretty green eyes momentarily shining brightly - whether with rage or anxiety he couldn't tell - before the light simply went out of them and her shoulders slumped forward miserably. By almost unconscious action, Jim moved towards her but stopped. Something, call it intuition, made him take a step backwards, wanting to give her some space.

"Friday." he said intuitively, leaning against the counter.

For a second Pam's eyes shone again, then she blinked rapidly. "Yeah."

"Feel like the walls are closing in?"

"Like I'm running out of air." Pam wrapped her arms around herself, turning away from him.

Jim checked his watch. "Hey. It's okay to be nervous. At the end of the day though, you know you have to do it. You just got to jump and trust yourself to be okay."

"I'm scared that.." she chose her words. "That I have to talk about… it…. In a room full of people. Roy will be there. I might get up there and forget how to talk."

Jim smiled at her encouragingly. "Are you kidding yourself, Beesly? You, scared? You're the bravest person I ever met, if anyone can face up to Roy and everyone else, it's you. You got to forget about being scared and forget about doubts, and remember you're finishing what you started. Life is going to be so good for you after this is over, you wait and see."

Pam swallowed, moved by his conviction in her. Jim, always her champion. Without realizing it the corners of her mouth lifted up in a small smile. "You really think so?"

"No doubt about it." he replied. Pam sat down heavily on a kitchen chair, pressing her knees together tightly. She looked so sad and drawn that Jim found himself overwhelmed with sympathy for her.

"Hey." he said reassuringly, instinctively moving to kneel down beside her. "Hey." he repeated, reaching out for her hand. Pam simply hung her head, looking away. A wave of real concern rose through him, she was sitting still and limp, like she had that night in his car after the dundies. Then her fingers relaxed, her hand turned under his, her slender fingers intertwining with his larger ones. Jim lifted his free arm upwards, lightly resting it on her upper arm.

"Beesly." he said with confidence, his face moved close to hers. "This is temporary. This will be over soon. I know you can't see way out of this right now, but trust me, it's there. What you've been through sucks, it absolutely stinks. No matter what happens, you gotta remember that after this nightmare is done, life is going to be like a dream that's so amazing you'll never want to wake up and leave it."

He spoke softly and quietly, almost whispering. Her cold fingers were beginning to thaw in his hand and she made no attempt to pull away.

Slowly lifting her head, Pam raised level and tentatively met the kind green eyes in front of her, suddenly feeling like she was going to cry. Kind, he was so kind. Warmth and affection simply seeped out of him. The nervous feelings that had been plaguing her did not seem so overwhelming. Her heart moved with feeling. A different kind of tears flew into her eyes, she again wanted to cry, not because of Roy, not because of court, not even because everything was just so messed up; but because people like Jim were hard to find, people who were unconditionally loyal and so true at heart. That kind of love was so rare in the world. Leaning forward she slipped her thin arms around Jim's neck, resting her head on his shoulder miserably.

"I'm so glad we're friends." she said, her words muffled against his shirt. Surprised, Jim returned the hug warmly, more than willing to offer her the comfort she so desperately wanted.

-TO-

"Do you think it was your fault?" the pretty voice asked from across the room.

Pam sat still in one of the rooms two armchairs, facing the counselor. Absently scratching her leg, she shook her head very slowly, training her eyes on the small window on the other side of her.

"I don't know." she said honestly. "Roy would say that I deserved it, that I wasn't good enough. I can accept that. But Jim did get hurt because of me."

"Why was that your fault? Roy is an adult. You didn't press a gun to his temple." Rosie said gently.

Her voice hardened. "I might as well have."

"You're angry."

"Not really." Pam said wearily.

"Who are you angry at?"

"I'm not."

"Roy beat you."

"I know that." Pam spoke fast and too loudly. Maddeningly, the woman in front her grinned widely. Pam began to dislike her and her taxing questions. All this woman did was ask questions of her but rarely seemed satisfied with the responses Pam gave her.

"Roy beat you for almost five years. He controlled you."

"So?"

"He took care of the finances. He isolated you from your friends and family."

"It wasn't a one way street between us-" Pam defended.

"He broke your bones. He woke you up in the middle of the night for sex. He didn't care what you wanted. You're not angry?" Rosie persisted.

Pam squirmed. "What good is it being angry? It can't change anything."

"Why such a strong reaction? Are you afraid to get angry?"

Pam willed the frustration out of her voice and tried to speak calmly. "No, I just don't see any benefit in it."

"How would you feel when you woke up to Roy touching you?"

Pam glared fiercely at her. "Disgusting." she said, pressing her lips together tightly.

"Roy's disgusting or you are?"

"That's not what I meant-"

"You're as thin as a leaf. We've talked about your sleep habits. You have nightmares."

"Yes?"

"You believe your love is damaged because you couldn't love Roy enough and so he beat you."

"Sometimes I provoked him! I wasn't enough!" Pam's voice grew thick with emotion. She pulled her knees up to her chest on the armchair, burying her head in them.

"Roy abused you verbally, physically, emotionally. He left scars on your body, and on you. You don't blame him at all?"

"Roy is just like everyone else and he shows his feelings." Pam's said, her voice muffled into her jeans

Rosie nodded. "Angry, dangerous, insulting feelings."

"Sometimes." Pam replied.

"You're not angry at Jim." Rosie stated.

Pam raised her head a little. "Why would I be?"

"Because Roy hit him. After all, it was your fault Roy hit you, wasn't it?" Rosie leaned forward towards Pam.

"No, Roy hurt Jim, because of me." Pam was adamant. "It wasn't Jim's fault."

The woman spoke confidently. "So, it wasn't Jim's fault, it wasn't Roy's fault. How does that work?"

"I…" Pam lost her footing, opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish. Dropping her head back into her knees, she hugged her ankles together tightly.

"Let me tell you what I think. "Rosie said sympathetically. "You've told me you feel ashamed. Roy beat you. You feel it was your fault that he beat you and he hurt your best friend because of you. You feel disgusting. You can't sleep. You look like you don't eat. It doesn't look to me like you're done with the beatings yet, Pam."

Pam looked up at the woman, struggling to maintain her composure. Her eyes betrayed her feelings. She was transparent as glass, this woman could literally read her with a quick glance.

"Only Roy's not the one beating you anymore, Pam." Rosie continued.

Pam flinched, sudden understanding coming over her. She straightened herself up in the chair, her face dry and flushed and stared back at Rosie.

"I am angry." she admitted heavily.

Rosie smiled kindly. "Who are you angry with, Pam?

Pam blinked, but held her stare. "M-myself." she near whispered.

It was with obvious relief that the woman absorbed this. "Good. Now we can get to work." she said.

-TO-

It was pretty dark inside the house.

Jim was uneasy. Striding into the living room he frowned, noticing the drawn curtains. He stood in the center of the room and looked around. The place was empty, but the house was full of silence.

He had expected to find Pam on the couch or at the table like she usually was. A few times he had come home, pleased to see her working on a watercolor painting, looking somewhat more like the Pam he knew well. But yet, she wasn't in the room this time.

It was odd, but coming home to such emptiness took him back to the short time he had lived alone after Mark had packed up and gone; all the times he ate alone and slept alone and sat around in the nothingness in the rooms. Then Pam had come. Despite the circumstances, he really loved having her stay there. She was, even when not at her best, much fun and her company was always refreshing.

Now he began to feel a little worried about where she might be, that she may have got caught up after her appointment and hadn't wanted to burden him by calling for a ride. Or worse, that the session hadn't gone well and maybe she was somewhere by herself, upset. Or she was just asleep upstairs, he thought more rationally.

Treading carefully up the stairs, he aimed to avoid any sudden noises that might wake the sleeping woman that may be up there. He had a strange sense of foreboding, he could feel it unerringly in his bones, there was something different about that evening. Some quality or some cosmic atmosphere had changed around him. Something was definitely off here, he didn't have to be a damn seer to sense that.

He was surprised to find Pam wasn't in Mark's old room. Now he did feel the beginnings of a legitimate worry. She had not said anything to him about going out anywhere. She hadn't phoned him or sent a message after her appointment like the other times either.

He worried, he worried about her often, a fact he tried hard to keep from her – just how much he worried. But then, stepping into his own bedroom, his fretful feelings melted away.

There she was.

Curled up on his bed, sound asleep. He stood still, surprised to see her there, in his bed – the thoughts he could taunt himself with about that were endless and smarting – but he also was overcome with relief to see her there. Light brown and red strands of hair fell across her face, soft and pretty. She had showered since the morning and washed her hair too. He could smell the sweet fruity scent of her shampoo across the room. The sight of her sent pleasant warmth flying through his heart, curled up almost like a child, so small, so vulnerable, so peaceful. How young and fragile she was. How beautiful. Gone was the weary, unkempt Pam he saw this morning. This sleeping Pam was a joy to his eyes. Her chest moved rhythmically, with gentle breathing that was music to his ears.

He couldn't stop the huge smile stretching across his face. He loved her. He loved her so much he thought his heart couldn't hold all of the love it was burdened with- that it would simply be crushed under the weight, never to love again.

Finally, he tiptoed out of the room, returning in seconds carrying a black fleece blanket his mom had given him some years back.

Tenderly he lifted the blanket over her, fussily tucking it in around her shoulders. Turning to go downstairs, he paused, thinking for a moment. Then, stepping back, he flicked on the lamp next to his bed, so she wouldn't have to wake up in the darkness.

-TO-

He heard the soft sound of her feet stepping down the stairs a couple of hours later.

"Hey." he greeted her warmly. She was dressed in an overlarge blue sweater, which he thought looked amazing against the red of her hair.

Nervously wringing her hands, she yawned briefly, covering her mouth and tiredly sat on the couch. Jim followed her, suggesting they send out for pizza. He wanted to avoid the subject of the bedroom - for now at least. No point making things awkward, he reasoned. He had thought about why she was in his bed, not coming to any real conclusion- maybe it was too hot in Mark's room, maybe she got frightened alone and went into his own room, maybe she was tired and got confused, he didn't know. His mind did slip back to the other times he had found her in his room. She had been upset both of those times. He had thought that maybe she felt it a comforting place, or safer place for some reason. He certainly did not mind a bit her being in there – did not mind in a way that he felt increasingly guilty over, he liked that she had been sleeping in his bed.

"Jim." Pam said quietly, seemingly much more awake then. He looked up, shaken out of his thoughts. He could see there was something on her mind, something she was struggling to say. He looked at her expectantly.

"When the hearing is done, I'm going to go back with my parents." she looked downwards at her hands.

That was not what he had been expecting to hear. Certainly not what he wanted to hear, either. She hadn't spoken of going to her parents again since they had visited her, he supposed it was dumb of him to not see it coming. Dumb or deliberately dumb, take a pick. The outcome was the same either way.

"Oh. Uh… on Friday?" he spluttered.

"Saturday." she confirmed. "It's been wonderful staying here. I think if you hadn't been here for me, I'd probably still be with Roy. Or I'd be dead." she said bluntly.

"It will do you good to get away." Jim decided to brazen it out. It wouldn't do to let her see how upset he was suddenly feeling – like the contents of his stomach had been turned upside down. He suddenly felt nauseous.

She nodded sadly, but he didn't see. He didn't trust himself to look at her.

"How long will you go for?"

Pam shook her head, blissfully unaware of the heaving turmoil of the man sitting just inches away from her. "I don't know. Play it by ear I guess."

"You're welcome to come back and stay here afterwards if you need to." he said, trying to keep the pleading out of his voice. He had to get out of the room, had to be alone. He wanted to think. He wanted to brood.

She was touched by his offer. "Thanks."

Jim forced a grin to his face, nodding in response as she again thanked him for being there and everything he had done for her. He wasn't really listening though. Then they both fell quiet, an unspoken tension simmering between them.

"Jim….." Pam said, her face turning red. He looked at her, not speaking. "Ummm… about upstairs…I…" She stopped, thinking.

"You were asleep in my room?" he would have laughed at how embarrassed she was, if he hadn't been feeling so miserable inside.

Pam looked away guiltily. "Oh. Yeah…. Sorry. I just felt.. I wanted… you know… It was just… you know." she shrugged. She didn't really have a good reason, she realized. Not one she could put into words, not one she understood herself.

"Don't worry about it," he replied. "We can switch rooms if you really prefer it in there." he said, mock-seriously. The joker, the funnyman, that's what she knew of him, and he played up to it all the more, covering his feelings with fooling around, just like he always did. For her benefit, of course.

She grinned back at him; an actual honest smile that lit up her whole face. He hadn't seen that smile in a long time. He felt quite privileged.

He joked around with her, avoiding things for as long as he could stand. He was starting to feel like he couldn't breathe. What if she chose not to come back? Eventually he excused himself to the bathroom, where he immediately ran a shower and almost stepped in fully clothed in his haste to get under the water. He ran the water as hot as he could stand it, feeling somewhat self satisfied by the stinging and burning heat on his skin.

He didn't want her to go. Absolutely not. He wasn't stupid, or blinded by his own wants – he knew it would be a good thing for her to get some distance from everything. But he had already started to miss her. He had foolishly allowed himself, despite all his efforts to the contrary, to subconsciously regard Pam as – as Michael put it – his de facto wife. But something was happening to them –a bomb was building between them and he couldn't deny it or see a way to stop it. Something was going to bust – he didn't know if it was him or her but something had definitely changed.

It hurt, love hurt so much. He was fully aware that in loving her, he had in fact sacrificed himself - to love a woman unconditionally as he did, to have given everything to her for nothing but to keep his secret, unrequited love alive. He had found that to be there in her life, even as an unrequited, platonic part of that life, it was much preferable than to still being unrequited and platonic and far away.

He ran the shower until the water went cold, then freezing. He let it run even longer, standing under the icy water mindless of the chill, not caring about anything except the fact that the woman he loved was going away.