All she wanted was to escape. To turn on her heel and flee down the courthouse steps and through the raindrops over the leaf-strewn street and keep running like her life depended on it.

She supposed in a way it did.

Running away was not a new urge for her. For all the years she had endured with Roy, she had craved escape. She had, whether she had known it consciously or subconsciously, been preparing to flee. Twenty dollar bills curled up inside an empty tampax box, tucked into the back of picture frames, stashed surreptitiously between the pages of a copy of Atmospheric Watercolors that she knew Roy would never pick up. She had told herself they were there just in case of emergency. Roy kept track of her money – their money. In some strange way she had been preparing for this moment from the start, from the first bruised cheekbone, the first black eye.

She had focused so much of her efforts on outrunning Roy, on his needs, his wants, on surviving that escape became secondary to the immediate, short term needs of dodging Roy's ham sized fists and ducking his violent outbursts. In order to escape, one had to first survive. So she had believed.

And here she was, standing in his shadow once more. Only this time she was standing, upright and determined. She would no longer cower in front of him. When she went into the courtroom and she saw him she was determined that she would look him right in the eye and not let go. She would speak the truth and he would have to listen and he would not be able to do a thing to her. She would get through this in one piece and she would shower away any traces of her past life once it was all over. Leaning herself into Jim, she gritted her teeth and sucked in a breath, squeezing down the physical urges to run, down from her chest through her stomach all the way through her trembling legs until the comforting numbness settled through her.

"You okay?" Jim asked.

Pam nodded slowly, breathing in deeply through her nose. She was prepared for anything, she repeated to herself, absently watching a faded red scrap of fabric being buffeted along the ground by the wind.  It was then that she spotted the familiar heavyset dark haired woman dashing through the rain towards her, her flushed faced twisted with indignation.

"Well…" she spoke, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well. I hope you're proud of yourself."

Pam watched as the round pudgy face continued to twist and contort in front of her, and a hostile finger was jabbed at her. Standing so close to her that Pam caught the scent of something sharp and sour in the woman's breath. She stared back at her defiantly. She wasn't going to look away. Brown eyes, dark and wintery glared back at her. Eyes. He had his mothers eyes. Hard, unmovable, as if it were impossible for the world to ever please her. They stared each other down before the woman wrinkled her nose, shook out her hair and pushed herself away and into the courthouse.

"Who wa-" Jim began, his eyes following the angry woman.

"-Roy's mom." she replied, pre-empting his question. As soon as the woman was out of sight the tight, determined expression dropped from her face and nervousness once again took its place. This was just the beginning.

"I think that's your dads car." Jim pointed. Pam raised her hand – only slightly trembling – to shield her eyes as she looked in the direction of his finger.

"Yeah, that's them." she sighed, spotting the car slowing down before slipping out of sight into the parking area.

"There they are…" Michael crooned, suddenly appearing on the steps beside them. He wore a wide grin. "Who ordered the PB and J?"

"Oh uh.. hey Michael." Pam felt her hands go stiff and cold.

Michael beamed. "So get this place. Is this where the lobster boy trial was? Man that guy was wild. Hey, real quick, imagine when the judge called 'order in the court'. He'd just have to hold up those hands, right? Oh… in your case, it would be PB and J sandwich right there. The jury would just die."

"Wow. That's…. funny. I thought we discussed that you didn't need to be here. Nor do you need to speak, at all." Jim pushed his hands into his pockets.

"No, really, Jim. If one of us is on trial, we're all on trial. My employees, my rules."

Pam's gaze quickly shifted to meet Jim's in a knowing gesture before flicking back again. "Michael, I'm not on trial. It's not me who's on trial."

"Uh, okay, all right. How much are you gonna get if you win?" Michael asked, leaning forward.

Jim frowned. "What?"

"Oh!" Pam said, easing away from Jim and moving around him. "Mom." she lifted her arms, hugging the woman happily. "Hey dad. Oh my god. Penny!" Pam almost squealed as she caught sight of her sister.

"Woah…" Michael muttered, a little too loudly for Jim's liking. "That whole family… Is that Pam's-"

"Boyfriend. She's got a boyfriend. Yeah, long term thing." Jim quickly interrupted.

"Mom's pretty good too."

Jim winced sharply. "A little loud." he said.

"Hello." Pam's dad said, stepping towards the two men. He ran a hand through his hair. "Hey, Jim. This wind is atrocious."

"Hi. How are you?"

"A little nervous actually," Helene appeared next to her husband, looking fresh and appealing in a silvery white jacket and skirt. "My stomach is doing cartwheels."

Pam hurried to introduce them. "Mom, dad, Penny. This is Michael Scott."

"Hello. Enchante." Michael said, looking at Penny.

"Ixnay." Jim mumbled quickly.

"You ready?" Helene turned to Pam.

"Showtime." Michael added. Like a funeral procession the six of them walked into the courthouse, making their way towards security for searching. Pam stood, feeling light-headed at the reality sweeping over her as she watched a stark faced worker wave a scanner over her mother.

"Jim?"

Looking back in surprise, both Pam and Jim saw the approaching form of Jim's mother. She had clearly hurried there, looking hot and more than a little windswept. Jim was shocked to see her.

"Mom?"

"I hope I'm not out of place. I thought I'd come and offer some moral support. If that's okay." she added, looking between the both of them. Pam felt unexpected tears sting her eyes, and she blinked harshly, then swallowed.

She stepped forward, hugging her tightly.

"Thank you." she said, almost a whisper. "It means a lot that you came."

"That's w-"

"Stop." Jim cut Michael off rapidly, watching Pam and his mom thoughtfully.

Finally passing security, they filed in to the courtroom as directed by a small court worker. As they were sitting, Murphy appeared, offering some words of encouragement and about the upcoming day, sitting next to Pam on the Plaintiff's side, the right side. There was a hush over the room as Roy was brought in to sit at the defendants table. Pam turned her head away, refusing to look at him. Not yet, she told herself. The time would come when she would look at him, stare him down. She had to hold herself together first.

"Hey," Michael whispered, leaning towards Jim in the row in front. "Hey, they let women on the bench these days, right?"

"What?" Jim whispered back, slightly vexed.

"If it's a woman up there-"

"No. Stop." Jim replied sharply.

- TO -

Michael had been right about one thing, and the Judge was indeed a woman. Pam didn't know whether this helped her case or not – the judge had a gentle, but stern face and Pam was once again hit by the realization it was really happening, they had reached this point.

Pam studied her nervously. She thought the judge was surprisingly pretty – not at all the picture of the stern, dour faced judges shown on television – she was slim, young-ish with delicate fingers and lustrous dark box braids that pulled off an amazing feat of looking dramatic and sophisticated at the same time. Despite how much Pam wanted to warm towards her, the fact that this woman would be making a decision that would shape the rest of her life put her on edge.

The morning was tedious. Jury selection, swearing in twelve people was an arduous task she did not enjoy sitting through. Those people – six men, six women – knew absolutely nothing about her or Roy or the life they had lived together. They knew nothing about the situation or Jim or her hospital visits or how she woke up in the night and how Roy used to beat her into submission with just a fierce look in her direction. How could they make a judgement about this, about her life? To decide that she was, or wasn't telling the truth. That's what it all came down to in the end, she brooded. Truth. It wouldn't matter what Roy said – she was the one they would be looking at, she was the one they would be doubting, who had to convince them, who had to show the burden of proof only for Roy and his side to tear to it shreds and twist the facts and history like worthless bits of paper, worthless and not worth a second of consideration.

Then came openings. If not equally tedious, it was much more torturous. Having her own lawyer lay out her years with Roy – private, embarrassing, deeply personal things she had spent years delicately hiding away under layers of lies, layers of clothing, layers of denial. Of self protection. He spoke for over forty minutes. It was hard to hear. It was stark and real. "This is a case about pain. Ms Beesly's pain and suffering at the hands of this man." "Pam Beesly wanted nothing more than to be a good girlfriend, an exemplary potential wife and mother." "A young woman of spotless character." "Lived in fear." "Beaten, belittled, abused, harassed, stalked. Terrorized."

On it went. He did not pull any punches. He was brutal, aiming to play off the sympathies of the jury, driving the point home. He sugar coated nothing. Pam's face burned as she listened, trapped with the words bouncing around her. Murphy's voice was deep, clear and strong, yet gentle and compassionate at the same time, sounding like a presenter on the air coming to you live from the Scranton courthouse.

"Make no mistake, we are here today to see justice achieved, for this woman who sits before you – this woman who did nothing but try to be a good partner, a loving fiancee to the defendant – this woman who was brutalized, held captive in fear and beaten to the bone because she had the misfortune of falling in love with this violent man, the defendant."

Pam felt her resolve start to crumble as the man spoke on. She bit down on her lip hard in attempt to keep herself under control. She could taste blood flowing on to her tongue.

And then after the attorney had exhausted himself, the defense attorney stood up.

Despite being thoroughly prepared by her attorney, warned of the tactics employed by the defense, once he was up there in front of her opening his mouth she knew realistically nothing could have prepared her.

The differences between the attorney techniques were striking. The prosecution had laid the facts out nakedly, using harsh, bold, graphic words to describe the case against Roy.

The defense however was far more sketchy and vague, skipping over incidents of abuse, and not rebutting the allegations – barely even referencing them - as though they weren't even worth a second of consideration. He spoke about the deterioration of their relationship – how Mr Anderson had had doubts about going through with their wedding. How upset she had been that he had not wanted to marry her right away. How things deteriorated further when Mr Anderson had come to suspect her of infidelity with her co-worker and friend. How she had simply snapped one night, without warning leaving him and going to this co-worker. How she had attacked him that night, leaving him forced to push her away. How she was of disrepute in character, untrustworthy and a proven liar. How for years when said abuse was allegedly occurring she told no one, she did not seek help from anyone.

It was torture beyond her imagination and it was only just beginning. Diligently she kept face forward, determined not to look at Roy's side of the room until she was up on the stand.

The defense continued on. She didn't know whether he was convincing or not – whether people were actually buying this. It was all so humiliating. Unexpected hatred for Roy bubbled up from deep inside of her; for putting her through all of this. Hatred she had not been ready to admit to or accept before then.

"The prosecution wants you to believe Mr Anderson is a monster and without redemption. I ask you to look at him, sitting here in front of you. Look at him, a broken man, beaten down and desolate – and thoroughly and rightfully distressed by these vicious allegations against him – allegations without merit or worth. Did he make an error of judgement the night Ms Beesly left him? We know there was a scuffle between them – Ms Beesly by her own statement fought with him that night – physically. My client is a man and as a man he is stronger physically, powerfully. But does that make him an abuser? If there was such an error of judgement that night allowing Ms Beesly to suffer an injury that was not a deliberate action by Mr Anderson, is that a reason to find him guilty? To commit him to a cell?"

The words ran over themselves and she grew tired in listening, in holding the down pangs of emotion that frequently stabbed at her unmercifully. Her hands and feet tingled and turned to ice. Near the end of the defense opening, the room began to swim in front of her eyes, began to blur and things, people began to multiply. She felt afraid, alone. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply through her nose, casting her mind back to the night before. She wished herself so strongly back that she could feel it, feel being under Jim, hot, warm, safe. She allowed the memory to play out, she was in his arms afterwards, she was protected. She had been loved, she was loved. Slowly the loving feelings washed through her and she opened her eyes again. The defense was finishing up. She found she no longer cared what lies he fed the courtroom. She had the power of right on her side. She had good people around her, a circle of angels. That was all that mattered, that was enough to carry her through safely.

The judge called a ten minute recess before the first witness was due. In the small waiting room Pam quietly leaned up to kiss Jim's cheek. Slowly she let her lips linger, not caring that her parents, her sister, her boss, Jim's mom were filing into the room after them.

"I love you." she said quietly, carefully into his ear, controlling her voice before folding her arms around his neck. For a moment there was no reaction at all from him, before he moved and returned the hug. Pam couldn't see his face nor his emotionally overjoyed expression, but if she had she would have burst into grateful tears right then.