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Author's Chapter Notes:
About another month and I will have been working on this crazy thing for a year. I owe a debt to the person who suggested writing fanfiction - as I have spent two decades failing miserably at writing anything. This has been a great exercise for me. thank you for anyone who has been here the whole ride through. Probably a few more chapters to come yet but the end is in sight. thank you x

Wind whipped savagely through the trees, scattering dead leaves into the air, leaves that soared and floated wisp-like in the distance. They lifted and tumbled in a repetitive dance. Pam watched almost hypnotically, her fingers tracing light circles over the worn fabric of the back of the couch. She pressed her cheek further into the back pillow, eyes following a blurry red circle shape, a small glove or hat maybe, bouncing reluctantly along the ground.

She guessed she could rule out sleep that night. Her left thigh ached uncomfortably yet she still could not bring herself to move. Her body was heavy, unwilling to lift her from the couch. Thoughts dropped like barbells through her mind. Court was getting too close, Roy was too close. Quarrelling fears and emotions sharp as weapons stabbed at her, hurt her. She didn't know what she felt. She was expected to be able to stand up in court – with strangers and family alike – and him – right there in front of her and say things she had never been able to say before. How could she? Everyone was acting as though she was strong enough to do this – her, Pam, her who had never stood up for herself before in her life – her who always said yes when she wanted to say no, and no when someone wanted her to say no, her who would always say she wasn't hurt when she had been. Her, who was so weak she couldn't even stand up to herself and shake some sense into her own head.

Her, who wanted desperately to run away from court, from attorneys, from him – was supposed to be able to do this – to open her mouth and vomit up the insides of her body, her soul and lay bare the most ugly, painful moments for public scrutiny. For strangers to determine if she was telling the truth or not. What if the jury was mostly men? What if they were biased? What if one look from Roy destroyed her ability to say anything? And then there was Jim. He would feel differently about her after it was all over. There was so much he did not know about her, things likely to come out in court – things that showed how weak and pathetic she was. How inadequate. How easy she was to manipulate. Roy knew it. He was skilled at manipulation, building emotional road maps leading back to planet Roy.

"You can't be there for me when I need you, not even once?" she remembered Roy whining at her. This was a short time after they had first bought the house – and a bare few weeks after the incident on the night of Michael's birthday.

She had pleaded with him. "It's her birthday, her twenty first. It's special, Roy. I won't be back late, I'm sure Penny will wa–"

"Go then, if you can't be bothered to put in the effort into our relationship, you go."

"Why won't you come with me, then – we'll go together." she had repeated.

"So I have to come to your sisters birthday dinner for you to spend any time with me? Is that how it is, Pam?"

"No, no, it's not like that! We can spend the whole weekend together afterwards. Anything you want. Please Roy, come with me."

She remembered how belligerent Roy had been that night. His standing over her, his muscles flexing, her memory of recent events had terrified her at the time. Looking back now she saw again that terror in herself – but also she saw what she couldn't see before, the small, childish man he was, pathetic and needy.

"You go. " he had said, deathly cold. "You've made it clear where your priorities are. While you're gone you think about us and how important this relationship is to you." Roy had said darkly. It had been a warning and she took it as such. She had gone to Penny's dinner, alone, but hadn't enjoyed herself. It had been the first time she had directly gone against Roy in such a blatant way. Not that he had outright forbidden her to go, but they both knew his meaning had been clear. She had expected a discussion when she got home afterwards, a loud one – nothing she couldn't handle. The incident a few weeks earlier played on her mind but she dismissed it – Roy had been so apologetic, so sweet and kind since then. After all, he had promised that would never happen again, that he would never hurt her again. She had known that Roy had a lot of stress in his life, a lot of wounds that were still bleeding. He needed her, she'd reminded herself. When she had returned home to a darkened house, contrite and ready to pander for forgiveness, she had been met with a thorny wall of silence that lasted nearly four days. She had grown desperate as the minutes stretched out. By day three she would have promised him the whole earth and all its inhabitants if only he would just forgive her and would speak to her. And he had been true to his word that time, he hadn't laid a finger on her. Not then. But, as she later found out, Roy had great difficulty maintaining a commitment to anything.

He had made her work for it that time, beg for scraps of forgiveness from him. He had been hurt, he'd said. She was neglectful, inconsiderate to his feelings, his needs. This was the first of a routine she would to get to know well in the future. And, slumped on the couch as she was currently, she recalled how the routine had become so ingrained between them that words were not always needed. Just a dark glare of Roy's eye in her direction, the tap-tap-tap pattern of his nails against the table; she always knew what the meaning was.

The attorney wanted her to think about the things that had happened during her time with Roy, to picture the incidents exactly as they happened, relive the 'assaults' on the witness stand, as he liberally referred to it, although she was not happy with him using that term. Assaults to her mind were isolated incidents, they stopped and started, they had ends and beginnings. Abuse, that's what it was – that's what was appropriate, as appropriate is it could be. Abuse was sustained, ongoing. Abuse covered it all.

She wanted this all over with. Abuse, assaults, testifying… she wanted an end to it. She wanted to go to bed at a normal, reasonable time every night and go right to sleep until morning waking up refreshed and nightmare free. But, watching broken branches whipping back and forth wildly in the wind, watching the empty streets darken under the moonless sky, she resigned herself to another night of wide eyed anxiety alone until the birds woke up to join her.

-TO-

She met Jim in the parking lot at the attorney's office. Eagerly she went to him with open arms, relishing the warmth and comfort the hug evoked. Pulling back from him, she ran her hands over his front, smoothing out his shirt. Blue. She had always liked him in blue.

"You look like you're running on two percent battery, Beesly." He remarked casually, loosely draping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him.

"Yeah…" she looked at him carefully, reading his expression. "Tough night. With the storm and everything." she added quickly.

"It was pretty wild." he said knowingly, but didn't comment further.

"Practically demolished the trees out front." Pam told him, as they walked towards the office entrance. "There were branches scattered everywhere this morning."

Jim looked at her thoughtfully, before pulling her to a stop by the sliding doors. "Gotta watch those trees, Beesly. They look strong and stand strong in the wind…. But they can only withstand so much harsh weather before their limbs start to break off."

"The storm did leave them pretty damaged. I hope they can recover. They looked so healthy before."

"That's the thing about… trees," Jim said with a small smile. "They can only heal themselves so far. They need someone to help rid them of the broken limbs so the tree can heal faster. Otherwise the damage spreads until you've got a major break."

Pam caught his eye, standing by the doors. "I guess."

"Yeah..." he said, holding her gaze. "Gotta take care of those trees, Beesly. Without them, surviving would be hard."

She swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. He lightly ran a hand down her cheek, coming to rest on her shoulder. Silence passed between the two of them, before Pam softly turned and led the way inside.

-to-

The attorney pulled no punches, advising the defense would not be gentle in their line of questioning. He wanted them to be prepared for the stand, be aware that the defense could be derisive, discourteous but that no matter what, on the stand they were to remain calm and focused. It was his job to object to the questioning, he explained.

"Avoid talking about the relationship between the two of you. The defense will most certainly try to use that to weaken your case, and I will object. Do not volunteer any information, simply answer the questions asked, yes or no."

"What happens if you object to that?" Jim asked.

"I will argue that your relationship is not relevant to the case. This is a trial for assault-" he said, missing Pam wincing. "Whether or not Ms Beesly is involved in another relationship is not pertinent to either side. However, when the defense do raise that line of questioning, the intention is for the jury to hear it."

Jim nodded slowly. "So, even if you object the jury has still heard it, you mean."

"Indeed. It's a–"

Pam cut him off. "Will he admit it?"

"Pardon?" Murphy said after a moment.

"What he did. Will he?"

Murphy looked at her, his face perfectly blank. "I don't know."

Pam slumped back, shaking her head slightly. For all that had happened, for all they had suffered, Roy's consistent refusal to admit to what he had done to her stung terribly, left her with a raw anger. She needed him to admit to hurting her, abusing her – she needed it to be real. There were only two people witness to the abuse, her and him, his word, her word. Otherwise Roy would always have power over her – she would always be doubting herself.

She did not want Roy to hold any part of the rest of her life. But listening to the attorney with a stomach full of nausea, she was realistic enough to understand it would never fully be over, verdict or not.

- TO -

Pam parked up next to Jim's saab and followed him to the front door. Her stomach was twisting and churning nauseously. Every meeting with the attorney was a step closer to trial. She felt weak, lightheaded and unfocused every time she envisioned being on the witness stand. She might not even make it to the stand if she didn't get some sleep very soon. She shook her head, realising that Jim was holding the door open for her and made herself move.

"You okay?" he asked the second they had both stepped inside. She simply nodded, unable to answer. "Here." he said, draping his arm around her shoulders and leading her into the living room. "These are for you."

He turned away from her and before she knew what was happening he had turned back, his arms filled with roses. Vibrant pinks and lilacs and reds exploded out of the bouquet, a rich fruity aroma filling the room. She gasped involuntarily, stepping back slightly. There had to be a least fifty, if not sixty, seventy roses delicately arranged and wrapped around in red paper. Pam looked up in awe, her lip trembling.

"Jim…." she trailed off. "You didn't…. I mean… this is…" she sighed, frustrated. She took the roses from him, lowering her head into the flowers, inhaling. When she looked up again her eyes were bright and shining.

"This is… just…" She sighed again, placing the flowers on the table. "Oh, just come here." she said, slipping her arms around his neck. He willingly squeezed her back, his lips finding her cheek.

"Thank you." she whispered quietly.

Jim let a small chuckle as she let go and stepped back. "I wouldn't thank me just yet. I've made dinner. Well, I've still got to heat it… but if you're brave it's yours."

"You cooked?" she said in amazement, her finger tracing the top of the roses lovingly.

"I cooked."

"What a guy." she said, pushing her lips together, her eyes shiny. "Thank you. For everything."

"Yeah." he suddenly looked nervous. "I actually wanted to ask you something… I know you're doing okay right now, and you need your space and I totally understand, it's just that –"

"What is it?" she interrupted, unconsciously mirroring his nervousness.

He smiled thinly. "I was just thinking, maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if you wanted to stay here with me for a bit, you know while the trial is happening and everything. I know you want to be independent, I know that, and if you don't want to I totally understand, I just thought –"

"Yes."

"Huh?"

Pam gave a small laugh, gently nudging him with her elbow. "Don't look so surprised. I'd love to stay here with you."

"Really?" he said, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her to him again. She rested her head on his shoulder. If she was honest with herself, she had been kind of hoping he would ask. Living on her own and being precautious was well and good, but the long drawn out nights of wakefulness and nightmares, of being alone were taking a noticeable toll on her; and it wasn't that he was asking her to move in with him – she be free to leave at any time she wanted to. More than that, she was finding lately she missed him whenever they weren't together – she needed him in a fundamental way, a need she had never felt with Roy.

"More than anything." she replied sincerely.


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