The remainder of the day went on without further dramatics. Jim's attention though was split three ways from then on. Three different people, three different reasons. Right, left and center.

The brief spark of horror that had lit inside him the second that Roy jumped out of his seat had been intense, and the adrenaline still flooding his emotions was almost to much to bear. For a split moment, Jim had sensed a wild – frantic – fear for the woman that he loved so much. His instinct reacted first, despite knowing, despite seeing that Roy could not have possibly have escaped the security around him in order to make it the twenty or so steps across the courtroom to reach her. Yet he had witnessed firsthand the damage that Roy was capable of inflicting barehanded and without a thought he had been standing, pulling Pam backwards, backwards, willing himself to keep her out of danger.

He wasn't stupid and neither was she. He was sure he knew exactly why the man had imploded like that, what the spark was that lit the fire of rage. It was him, him and Pam. And that was it – Roy had seen them, seen her hold his hand and exploded like a solar flare.

He found himself thinking the unthinkable, runaway visions of Roy somehow overpowering the guards and getting his beefy hands on her again. It sat in his stomach like a bowling ball, and for the remaining afternoon he maintained a vigilant state of alertness, regularly shifting his eyes between the witness stand, his girlfriend, and the man who had taken so much from her.

-to-

Jim was pissed off; he was as close to anger as he liked to get by the time they got home. When he thought back on the afternoon, he had a hard time understanding why the judge hadn't simply removed Roy from the room. The man was a loose wire; and the first one burnt would undoubtedly be Pam when he inevitably erupted once more.

She had been quiet, plaintive on the journey home. He hadn't made any attempt at conversation, wanting to let her speak first. He had been sure she would have batted the words away without even looking at him.

"Wanna talk about it?" He said once they were indoors., casually leaning against the kitchen counter. She carefully kept her back turned to him, moving with slow, delicate precision as she lifted plates down from the shelf.

"Do we have to?" she said flatly. "It's been a long day… I just want to get dinner out of the way and then go to bed."

He watched her, eyes narrowed as she moved around the kitchen without pause. He began to feel winded just looking at her. "Stop." he said finally. "You don't have to do that."

"It's just pasta." she replied, bend downing to snatch up a pan for the stove.

"I'm not talking about the pasta."

She was quiet, seemingly trying to find the words to answer him. "Please Jim, not now." she said through a small breath. Jim raised his head, nodding slowly and drifted over to the sink to fill the pan with water for the pasta.

The meal was nourishing and pleasant. They ate relatively quietly together, neither showing much interest in the food, as good as it was. Jim maintained a worried frown, tense with the awkwardness between them. Pam, eating little, made no sign that she noticed and seemed far away in her mind.

It was as they were back in the kitchen doing the dishes after they had eaten that he approached her again.

"You know he wouldn't have got anywhere near you, right?"

Pam hummed under her breath. "Doesn't have to." she mumbled quietly.

"I just thought-" he broke off, coughing loudly. "I just- what's that smell?" he squinted his eyes. Pam visibly tensed in front of him.

"Oh damn." she said tightly, after a moments pause. Striding forward, she slung open the oven door, releasing a billowing cloud of blackened smoke. "Damn."

"What was that?" Jim ventured, waving away the smoke with a hand.

Pam shrugged forcefully, bending down. "Garlic bread, but it's garbage now."

"Woah, Pam – don't that's gotta be hot!" Jim cried out, wincing as she snatched up the charred chunk with her bare hand. She dropped it into the garbage, the burned bread clunking to the bottom like a rock.

"Did you burn your fingers?" he said. He reached for her hand. She pulled back quickly, and busied herself stacking the cutlery away. "Hey, come on, it's just bread, it doesn't matter." he spoke quietly, looking down at his feet.

Swinging round to face him, she fired back in frustration. "It's not just bread - look at it. Look at the mess in there. I'm such an idiot that I mess up something as easy as garlic bread."

"Hey, relax Beesly. Everybody burns stuff, it's no big deal."

"Yeah? Really? Will you feel that way when I set the bacon on fire or you get food poisoning or something?" It had started out angry but her voice took on a pitiful tone, the fight quickly leaving her. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading.

Jim allowed a small smile at that. "Yeah, probably I would. Don't worry so much." He stooped and swung the oven door shut. "You're not an idiot."

He could see her biting her cheek thoughtfully, looking pensively across the room. She looked so small, so lonely standing there in the middle of the kitchen, her eyes sunk far back inside some unpleasant thought or memory. The trouble was, she wasn't alone, whether she felt it or not. Jim was the most patient man, he often felt because he was so laid back, but it was hard for him not to feel flashes of hurt at the small red flags – like right then – that she still didn't fully trust him, yet.

"Pam?" he questioned, pulling her out of her thoughts, back to the moment.

"Yeah…" she said, lifting a trembling hand to her forehead. "I mean… he always said… he said…" her voice cracked, drifting off and she let out a small cry, her hand hurrying to cover her mouth. Sobs shook her small body, causing her to sway on her feet.

Jim moved towards her cautiously, knowing from past experiences she would feel overwhelmed or cornered if he rushed at her too quickly. Instead he slowly curled an arm around her, muttering quiet reassurances. She fell against his chest, uttering repetitive apologies.

"Don't you see, can't you see?" she was crying into his shoulder. "He doesn't have to hit me, or get near me to hurt me. He's angry, so angry."

"Lotta memories, huh?" he said. She nodded against him, grasping the back of his shirt tightly.

"You don't understand." she sobbed. "He told me, no one will believe me. The first time I told him I was going to leave, he, he…"

"S'okay." he mumbled, breathing rapidly, holding her shaking form against him.

"..choked me.." she forced out. Jim closed his eyes tightly, a stark ache stabbing through him.

He pulled her away from him, his hands on her shoulders and looked at her face. She hung her head limply, anxiously grasping at his shirt and twisting it in her hands. Jim's eyes flickered around the room helplessly, a brief display of frustrated self recrimination. He was so lost, so ill equipped to help her. If only love could cure it all, he thought.

"I'm sorry." he whispered softly, lifting his hands and delicately cupping her cheeks. "I'm sorry." He was barely audible, already closing his eyes. Tenderly resting his forehead against hers he paused, feeling all of the trembling woman between his hands. "Sorry." he barely mumbled, lifting his head and slowly bringing his lips to the space between her eyebrows with gentle familiarity. Lingering lightly, he drew back, only inches away from her face. She stared back at him, eyes wide and filled with shed and unshed tears and unbound fears. Carefully his hands moved over her cheeks, stroking damp strands of hair back. "I love you." she breathed. "Don't leave me." Jim took in the bright vulnerability in her eyes, eyes that were filled with a stark fear that made her seem suddenly much younger than her years. Her thin fingers had crept up around his neck, softly caressing – holding – him needily, almost desperately.

"I love you." he whispered intimately, caressing his lips over hers in a velvety kiss before pulling back enough to allow her to fall against his shoulder again. Both arms wound around her seeking to comfort the woman. "I'm sorry." he said soundlessly, holding her against him. "I love you so much." He couldn't say it enough, over and over he repeated it. "Everything is going to be okay. It will be over soon." he reassured.

He didn't know if she believed him or not, but after a short time he felt the stiffness leave her body and the woman relaxed in his arms, her breath smoothing out. Eventually the tears dried and they led each other upstairs for another restless night together. As they lay, intertwined, both pairs of eyes began to close, but neither slept. Pam lay awake, absorbed by a strong, irrational fear she could not name – a loss. Losing the case, losing her family, losing Jim. Being bound to Roy for the rest of her life, that he'd be her achilles heel, always be there even when everyone else was gone. That no matter how much she healed, how strong she was, there would always be that one vulnerable part of her that he would forever target.

Jim on the other side of her, lay swallowed up in helplessness and a burning desire to see Roy suffer. He didn't know what he would do if Roy wasn't given a decent sentence, or unthinkably, if he was acquitted. How would he keep her safe, how would it ever end?

The fact of their future hinged on the very next few days; he understood this more clearly than ever. He would fight for her, he would stay calm, stay positive. He would bolster her spirits and her confidence when she was low. He would show her love. That he could do.

-to-

The following day was by far the most nerve wracking day by that point, for Pam. Once again perched tensely on the wooden courtroom seating she looked on nervously, carefully avoiding the other side of the room. So far the witnesses who had testified had mostly been helpful on her side, had portrayed a sad picture of a man with little emotional regard for his fiancee, the woman he supposedly had loved enough to propose to.

Murphy had told them before entering the court that morning, Toby's testimony was damning for Roy. Daryl's testimony, the last witness of the day yesterday, had given the prosecution an unexpected boost as well. A bittersweet win for her, Murphy had said, keenly aware of how upsetting Daryl's questioning had been. Daryl described in detail how Roy had made a large number of rather prurient comments and jokes with the warehouse staff over the years involving Pam and other women. It was incredibly uncomfortable and painful for her to hear. What was almost as painful was Daryl's frequent apologetic glances in Roy's direction, as though he were truly sorry to have to do this to him. As though he were selling him out, rather than telling the truth for her. She had felt sick by the end of it all.

But as hard as that was, it was nothing when she thought of the next people to testify. Murphy had warned that Jim was most likely to be called that day, a day earlier than scheduled. Then there would be the defense witnesses – her mom, Kenny, Roy among them. And she herself had to go up there – something that turned her stomach into a tornado. As she sat, squirming on the hard seat, she waited as Judge Summers entered, calling session for the morning, calling order and allowing Pam's attorney to call the first witness of the day.

This was one she was nervous about – whether he would be a help or a hindrance. Whether she had any more unpleasant surprises to come. She watched him stride confidently up to the front of the room, wincing as he failed to navigate the small step up and stumbled forward on to the stand, knocking the microphone to the floor with a loud clang that reverberated around the room.

Several people laughed, including, much to Pam's chagrin, her sister. She exchanged a knowing glance with Jim, turning back to the front. Watching the judge rebuke Dwight for not his physical clumsiness, but his clumsy apologies as he scrabbled on his knees for the microphone with an unnecessary amount of noise and time, she felt this was just more of what was to come.

"Get it together, man!" Michael called out with exaggerated exasperation from the back of the room, causing more laughter among the people. Pam shook her head as the judge called order.

And so day three began, and she held her breath, half expecting another explosion from Roy, half expecting Dwight to somehow get himself in contempt of court and disqualified as a witness.

Yes it was only day three, and it already had been an eternity. Anxiously once again she began counting the minutes, sometimes the seconds, until this was all over and she never had to step into the same room as Roy again.