The apartment was empty again.

She lay curled up in the corner of her couch once more, head resting wearily against the arm. Despite the simmering tension between her and her parents following their confession about visiting Roy, Pam still hadn't wanted them to leave.

She'd never been alone before. Not like this. Alone with the memories, the history, her thoughts. It was her second weekend in the apartment and the first time she had ever lived by herself. She was teetering precariously on the edge of snatching up her cell phone and begging Helene to come back.

Too much time to think was not good for her. She now had the whole day to fill and nothing to do. Except brood. So many things she had lost control of, there was so much she couldn't change in her life. She didn't want to be alone. She didn't want to be a burden to anyone, to force her company on anyone.

"You're weak." she heard Roy say. "You'd never make it on your own."

She couldn't count the times he'd told her varying versions of that – poor weak Pam, not able to do anything for herself. She was the girl who messed up even simple things like picking up the groceries, she was the girl who couldn't keep a house clean, she was the girl who definitely couldn't make her man happy.

"You know what your trouble is?" Roy spoke again. "You need me. If I wasn't here you'd probably be killed crossing the street."

Pam groaned and turned over on the couch, pushing her face into the back rest.

"Shut up." She mumbled at the phantom voice in her head. "Go away Roy."

It was the phone call that had brought Roy back to life. Almost immediately after her parents had said their goodbyes and gone on home, her cell had rung.

Her court lawyer. Roy's court case had been set. She hadn't expected it to be so quick. She'd thought it was going to be months and months, maybe a year before she had to face him again. But eight weeks? Eight weeks? It was nerve shattering. She wasn't prepared for this. She wasn't. She'd have to go through it yet again with the lawyers, with the court, all over again. How was she expected to face him after she was the reason he was sitting in prison? Knowing the things only she and Roy knew about their life together. The private things. The nights he had woken her-

She cut off her train of thought abruptly. No. Her stomach filled with angry bumblebees as the mere thought of seeing him again, even in a room full of other people. She blinked hard.

Who was she kidding. She faced him every day.

The phone call had at least lessened her feeling of betrayal towards her mom and dad. What did it matter now. She had been angry simply for the fact they had so much as mentioned Roy, for bringing him back in to her life vicariously when what she really was trying to do was deny he ever existed.

"Your dad sure told him off." Helene had said.

She had felt a little spark of triumph at that – a little one at least – and a little gratified that her dad had felt she was important enough for him to actually go into a prison and confront her ex fiance like that. Roy had been wrong when he told her that no one else cared for her. She knew that. She had her family, her mom, dad, Penny. She had Jim. Her hand drifted up to her throat, unconsciously stroking the soft flesh, no longer wearing the ropy red bruises Roy had left her with. She inhaled deeply, feeling the air flow smoothly in and out of her body; a practice she had begun to employ almost compulsively in the last few months. It almost always worked; in those moments when she felt phantom hands squeezing her neck tight, when she was sure her cheeks were throbbing from lack of air and her head was beginning to pound; a deep breath opening all the airways calmed her nerves.

The choking was something that had begun during the latter years of her relationship with Roy. He had always moved quickly, catching her off guard. They never had arguments, only fights. What would it be like when she and Jim fought? Would they shout, scream at each other? Would they throw things? Would she panic and make things worse, making Jim feel she could never trust him? Pam lifted her hand, rubbing her temples in frustration.

She needed to do something. Heavy exhaustion weighted down her muscles, the repercussions of multiple nights of poor sleep and unrestful periods of wakefulness. Pam wearily pushed herself up and slowly made her way into the kitchen. It was far from her favorite place in the apartment; it was dark and dreary and the faded white-yellow of the walls was just one more depressing thing in her life. Still, she opened cupboards and searched shelves for items that she wanted. She needed to busy her hands; she needed to keep moving. She needed to outrun him, outrun Roy or he would forever be catching hold of her and she would always be in his grip. She needed to keep him out of her mind. She set to work, feeling comforted in just doing something so primitive as cooking, something so natural.

As she measured, chopped and stirred her memory floated back to the night at the art gallery, drawing a genuine smile across her lips.

She did not think of Roy at all.

-TO-

"Hey!" Jim drew out the word, clearly happy to see her. Catching hold of her upper arm, he leaned forward, his warm lips brushing softly against her cheek.

"You can use your key, you know." he said, pulling back. Pam smiled.

"Hands were full. How are you feeling?" she asked, feeling the warmth of his kiss spreading through her limbs. "You look better. Passable, even."

"Why thank you. I might have even showered today."

Pam lifted up the tupperware container in her hands. "Good. You think you can force yourself to eat some chili?"

Jim's eyes widened, a look of gratitude forming over his features. "Well that depends." he said playfully. "If someone is going to eat it with me."

Pam chuckled at his expression, a hilarious mix of mischievous and longing together. Happy to see him looking so much better, she nodded at him.

"Someone might." she teased. "If someone else doesn't complain about her doing the dishes afterwards, and agrees to allow her to check his temperature before they eat."

"Deal." he quickly replied with a laugh. Pam put the tupperware box down on the small hall table and turned back to Jim, tilting her head to the side.

"Of course, there is one other condition first." she said softly, fluttering her eyelashes at him flirtatiously.

"Oh." he smirked. "And what demands have you this evening Ms Beesly?"

Pam stepped forward a little closer to him. "Kiss me."

She looked up at Jim, his warm green eyes wide and swimming with love. "Come here." he whispered slowly, slipping a hand around her hip and gently pulling her towards him. The gap between them closed, Jim inclined his head towards her, his lips reaching down and softly caressing hers. Heat grew between them as she leaned into him, shivering slightly as she slid her arms up around his neck.

He had dreamed about this moment for so long. The moment where she finally gave into it, where it was right and genuine, and exactly what it was supposed to be. And she had initiated it. In his head he had seen this very moment, he had expected fireworks, electricity; expected that their bodies would fit together as well as their personalities did, to discover they were in sync in every way.

He was not disappointed.

-TO-

Jim looked fondly at the woman snuggled against him on the couch. Pam had been as good as her word, cleaning up after dinner and doing the dishes and the drying. She then slipped back into the living room, sidling herself on the couch next to Jim.

She wasn't sure what had gotten into her tonight. Ever since she had arrived she had felt an uncontrollable need to be close to him, to be as physically close as possible. Now she lay pressed up against his side, under the safety of his arm, feeling warm and a good deal happier than she had felt in years.

"How long did the lawyer say the case would last?" Jim asked.

"About a week, maybe less." she said evenly. She shifted her head, yawning. "Let's not talk about… that… tonight. Let's have a nice night off."

"Okay." he said amiably.

"Okay."

Jim snorted. "You sure are bossy tonight Beesly. I think I'm gonna have to watch out for you."

"You'd better." Pam said, amused.

"Bossy new Beesly." Jim teased.

"Think you can handle it, Halpert?" she said, yawning again against his chest.

"Bring it, Beesly." he laughed. He was certain he knew what she was doing – she was testing him, whether she knew it or not. He was gratified that she was starting to show some signs of asserting herself and becoming the person she was meant to be, even though the process was slow. That was okay with him. She could be as demanding as she wanted, for the next ten years as far as he was concerned; the fact she was starting to really trust him, feel safe with him meant so much more to him than anything. That was something you could build a solid relationship on.

They sat together like that on the couch for the rest of the evening, until Jim had to get up to answer his cell phone. Grabbing it off of the kitchen counter, he chatted affably with Pete for around ten minutes. When he returned he couldn't help but smile at the sight of her, curled up against a cushion on the couch, heavily sleeping.

He fetched another blanket, laying it over her and sat back down next to her.

An hour passed and she was still sleeping soundly. Jim stood up and stretched, grunting as he noticed that it had gone eleven. He eyed the sleeping woman thoughtfully. Kneeling down in front of her, he lightly laid a hand on her shoulder and rubbed gently.

"Beesly?"

Pam did not stir.

"Bee-eesly?" he whispered again. He didn't want to raise his voice or shake her roughly, out of concern for frightening her. They'd had such a nice evening.

"Pam?" he whispered once more, lightly patting her shoulder. Still she didn't so much as twitch an eyelid in response. Her breathing was relaxed, deep and heavy, smooth and natural.

Jim smiled at her, making a decision he hoped would not upset – scare – her if she happened to wake up. Gently sliding his hands under her side, he carefully lifted her up into his arms. Pam moaned softly, shifting comfortably, but did not wake. Slowly he made his way up the stairs, entering the small spare room. There he walked to the bed, Pam still in his arms, and laid her down carefully, adjusting the pillow and covers for her comfort. He stood watching her for a few minutes, and then, confident she was showing no signs of waking, he went off to his own room.

-TO-

She couldn't breathe – the rough, punishing hands were back, circling her throat, tearing at her skin. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. The hands were clamping tighter now and she began to drown in panic. Before she knew it, she was sitting upright in the dark, choking in deep ragged breaths of air. She reached a hand up to her throat reflexively. Her face was cool with with wet tears shed during sleep.

She looked around the room frantically, things starting to come into focus. She saw the familiar bed covers, the well known angle of the window adjacent to the bed. Panting for breath, Pam quickly flicked the lamp switch next to her, chasing away the shadows from the room.

Massaging her throat, she was filled with an almost uncontrollable terror. She knew it was just a nightmare, knew it was not real, but that did not stop the very real fear she felt from overwhelming her. Someone could have broken in. Roy could have broken out. Things like that happened all the time, it was on the news every week. Anything could happen. Roy was not done with her. She sat, frozen, tormenting herself.

According to the little alarm clock on the nightstand beside her, it was around twenty past three. Somewhere in the dark outside, an owl hooted. A car horn beeped loudly, causing her to flinch violently in the bed. Tired, she was still so tired.

Before she understood fully what she was doing, she had slipped out of the bed and was out of the room in seconds. Sneaking through the hall, she stopped outside Jim's door, carefully pushing the door open as quietly as possible. Soft light from the window fell over his sleeping person, he was sprawled out arms and legs all over the place, head pushed into his pillow.

Silently she crept over to the bed. As carefully as she could, to avoid waking him, she straightened out the covers over him. Pam stood, uncertainly, staring down at him. She didn't think she could explain it, certainly didn't want to explain it, the simple fact that the nightmare had been so real she felt as though it had actually happened. She did not feel safe. She made her way round to the other side of Jim's bed, carefully climbing in next to him. There she lay, breathing in the warm comforting fresh smell of him that she so loved, inexplicably – desperately – wanting to hug him.

As if by telekinesis, Jim shifted, mumbled and rolled over, coming face to face with her. Green eyes sleepily opened, unfocused.

"You okay, love?" he mumbled, his voice husky. Pam nodded vigorously, despite the warm tears trickling down her cheeks.

"Nightmare?" Jim asked. Unable to reply, Pam simply nodded again. Before she could move, he was up close, next to her, pulling her against him, her shivering body soaking up the warmth from his body. His arms slid round her protectively.

"You're alright, my love." Jim whispered tiredly, holding her against him. Pam lay awake for some time longer, shaking slightly but feeling safe and content enough against him. Soon the comforting heat of his body began to lull her back to sleep. She slowly started to drift off, feeling safe in the knowledge that Jim wasn't going to hurt her.