Ten minutes later brought her back to the courtroom. Slipping into the room like a ghost, she drifted into a quiet state of stillness, her mind empty and her body heavy. She glanced down at her left hand, her right thumb and index finger carefully rubbing at an imaginary itch of the skin on her left fourth finger. The sensitive tips of her fingers twisted an illusive band of gold, evoking a sensory memory of the jagged, small diamonds she had worn for so long. She often thought about what Roy might have done with the ring after he came upon it left so meaningfully on the pillow he slept on.

The ring had been one of the more contentious disappointments she had felt within their relationship. It wasn't that she had hated the ring, or that it was so, so simple and lightweight. As almost expected, when she had first tried the ring on it was obviously too large and within seconds was slipping towards the end of her finger, a bitter dismay she had tried hard to keep from Roy, planning to get it resized before he noticed. As fortune would have it Roy and Kenny had gone to the lakes with the waverunners the following weekend, leaving her behind and so she had seized the opportunity to take the ring in for adjustment. Even then, an aesthetically perfect fit following the resizing, the ring had felt even more out of place on her finger than before. It was not the size of the ring, she had realized, that bothered her, neither circumferential or carat, but the nagging foreshadowing behind it.

First, Roy had gotten her ring size wrong. Then he hadn't noticed how she had clenched her fingers into a fist on that hand in order to stop the small diamond slipping off. And so it spoke volumes to her that the ring had been a wrong fit – a ring that was supposed to signify forever between them and it had been a wrong fit from the start – until she had taken it to the jewelers and made it fit. In that respect, it had been the perfect engagement ring between them, after all wasn't that exactly what she had spent several years doing with their relationship?

Now she went further in her thoughts, wondering if Roy had kept the ring and if he planned to offer it to some other quiet, unassuming woman – or even if some quiet, unassuming woman had actually worn that ring before her?

It would not have surprised her in the least at that point in the turn of things.

Consciously she pulled her hands apart, her left fingers drifting towards her right wrist. There they softly caressed the solid gold, the smooth, warm diamonds of the bracelet that lay perfectly against the unblemished, healed skin. She had chosen to wear it very specifically throughout her attendance in the courtroom, feeling somehow comforted by the sense of safety the bracelet gave to her. She treasured it as one would an amulet of good fortune – which she believed in whole heartedly, just as much as the moment Jim had gifted it to her when she had been so terrified that he was going to abandon her.

Jim was something of an amulet himself to her. He lifted her up time after time, he consoled her, he made her laugh so hard she cried sometimes, he protected her and always tried never to hurt her; and most of all, he loved her. It was more than she could ever hope for.

It all seemed rather insane, in retrospect, as she studied Roy's angry scowl. She had walked through hell and back to get away from him and it had been the worst, most agonizing, confusing time of her life; but in a large, more significant part, it had actually been very easy. She had thought she had loved Roy, that she would be with him for life – for better or worse – through thick and thin. But the emotional ties of any love she had felt for him were thread bare and well worn indeed and broke off easily. She had left that night emotionally drained, terrified, confused but not in love. She knew that now. And so she knew she would get over the things he had done to her, in time.

After all, the two most powerful warriors were patience and time.

-TO-

"Thank you, your honor." Murphy began upon the judge reopening of the court. "Roy, earlier you told the court that on the night Pam was assaulted, the night she left you, she jumped you, you were both on the floor and she slapped and scratched you before she ran out. Once again, is that true?"

"I told you so." Roy answered, a bored expression on his face.

Murphy looked meaningfully towards Judge Summers before tightening his jaw and speaking in a voice that was a little too taut to be considered completely calm. "Why did you try to stop her leaving? She had packed a bag, left her engagement ring behind and she was leaving. Why did you physically try to stop her?"

"I didn't want her to go." Roy looked down at the bench in front of him. He sat, his cheeks slightly puffed out, looking every bit like the proverbial chastised child. A small spark of hope lifted in Pam at his demeanor – she had anticipated the lawyer who had taken over from Thorne had a much better handle on Roy's behavior in the court room.

"Did you ask her to stay?" Murphy said pointedly.

"I've told you I did!"

"No, you told the court that you 'pushed her away from the door, pretty hard'. Did either of you say anything before you pushed her?"

Something close to shame briefly shadowed Roy's face. "I..uh, I don't remember. I don't know."

"Would it be correct to say that you came up behind her, pushing her away from the door before she even knew you were there?"

Roy pouted and shrugged half-heartedly.

"And what did you mean following that, when you told Pam that she 'made you' hurt her – as stated in her statement to the police?"

"What Pam says happens and what actually happens are two separate things. I might have said something about how she hurt me – I don't remember clearly."

Murphy looked at him candidly. "What injuries did you suffer that night?"

"How do you mean?"

"Let me help refresh your memory, Mr Anderson. You both were on the floor, you scuffled, fought." Murphy studied him sternly for several seconds. "Pam ended up that evening with broken ribs and a black eye and severe bruising to her neck, lacerations to her feet and wrists, to name but a few."

"All that proves is that she got injuries that night." Roy pointed out sullenly. "Doesn't prove I'm responsible for them."

"Were you injured?"

"A few lumps here and there. She got my neck pretty good. Lucky for me she punches like an old lady."

You bastard, Pam thought with sudden vitriol. Please don't let him crawl away from this, she silently begged. He did it, he did it he did it, she heard the refrain inside her head, feeling a touch of panic. She forced herself to remember, the blood on the floor – he did it, the broken ribs – it was his fist that slammed into them, the scream that stuck in her airway in the middle of the night – it had Roy's DNA all over it, he did it.

"What did you do after she left?" said Murphy.

"I got up off the floor and I went outside after her. I was worried about her being out alone in the dark, upset like she was. But she was gone and I couldn't find her."

"Did you call anyone to help you look for her?"

"No." Roy's eyes narrowed at the attorney.

"Did you call her family or any friends to find out where she had gone?"

"No." Roy said, casting his eyes darkly at Pam and then shifted them behind her to Jim. "I knew she would have gone to Halpert."

"Did you attempt to go there that night to bring her back with you?"

"No, I didn't." Roy almost spat the words out.

Folding his arms, Murphy nodded slowly. "Hmmm. Were you afraid that the police would be there and that's why you didn't attempt to contact her to see if she was alright?"

Roy hesitated. Finally he shook his head. "I just figured I should let her cool off."

"What did you do then?"

"Nothing. Kenny came over and we cleaned things up, hung out, had some beers."

Just as Pam had thought. While she had been sobbing on Jim's shoulder, covered head to toe with bumps, bruises, handprints and lacerations and shivering violently, Roy had been about business as normal. The image of him relaxing back that night as if nothing had happened after attacking her so savagely, the image of him chugging beers and whining to Kenny about what a stupid bitch she was felt like ipecac in her stomach. She mashed her teeth together, hard, angrily fighting a sudden outburst inside of her. How dare he, the words drilled into her, over and over and over. How dare he?

She began to recall other moments; brutal memories spurred on by the continuing belligerent voice of Roy, shoving all the inflictions aside, trivializing every assault, every wound, every hostile word he had ever used towards her. Roy, slouching on the couch with a beer in hand and shouting at the eagles on TV as she was holding on to the kitchen counter trying to catch her breath and sate the fiery throbs of pain in her side, Roy laughing at something as stupid as beavis and butthead while she was on her knees right behind him feverishly scrubbing at the dark red splotches of wine in the carpet from the glass that he whipped into the wall earlier that evening, narrowly missing her head. She recalled a terrifying afternoon of leaning forward over the bathroom sink, gasping for air and listening to a blend of blood and tears tinkle onto the cold porcelain like a macabre lullaby while Roy's amiable voice floated in to the room as he laughed and joked with her father on the bedroom phone – the very room he had beaten her in not half an hour before.

How dare he?

Why had he treated her like she was his punchbag? Why had he told her it was her fault, that she was worth nothing and no one would ever want her? Why did he treat her like his property, beating her, using her body for his pleasure whenever he wanted to? Why wouldn't he admit to it?

Murphy compounded her thoughts. Question after damning question he threw at Roy. How did she break her wrist that time? What caused her to be out of work for two weeks that summer? Why did you and your brother attack Jim Halpert? Why did it take you so long to get to the hospital when she had concussion? Why would she fabricate these accusations? If you didn't cause these grievous injuries to her person, who did?

There were some objections from the defense, none sustained. Murphy fired back at Roy with the voracity of a racehorse with the bit between his teeth. Pam began to feel another emotion sweep through her, noting the subtle shifting of Roy's posture in the witness seat, the thick hands jumping stiffly around his lap, the hard blue eyes darting from one exit to the other and she understood what was happening; Murphy had him shaken.

It was an emotion she was not familiar with in Roy. Neither was the small feeling of triumph emerging from her body in the form of tears.

"She's the liar, she's the reason I'm up here – she's the one who oughta be locked up!" Roy snapped at the attorney.

"With everything we had heard today, everything that has been testified to so far and the evidence presented I ask you again. Have you ever, at any time ever committed any act of violence against Pam Beesly?"

"You think I'm crazy?"

"Yes or no, Mr Anderson." Judge Summers intervened.

"Why won't you fuckin believe me?" Roy turned to the Judge.

"Mr Anderson, maybe you have some sort of emotional attachment to jail cells," Judge Summers remarked dryly. "However it is in your best interest to conduct yourself appropriately in the courtroom. I believe I have made that quite clear already."

Roy shrugged defeatedly.

"You're an athletic, well built man, you go to the gym often – to work off your anger," Murphy looked at him reproachfully, not seeming in the least fazed by his outburst. "Pam Beesly is a much smaller, much more vulnerable woman, that you are accused of punching, beating her over a period of several years – abusing her physically, emotionally, sexually and violating her safety and her freedom. This is why we are here. These are the allegations. A yes or no answer please, and I remind you that you are under oath. Have you ever, at any time ever committed any act of violence against Pam Beesly?"

Pam's breath caught in her throat as Roy slumped back, his expression hardening. He became very quiet. The unnerving silence that followed was fierce and about every muscle in her body seized as she waited, mindless of the tears running down her cheeks.

"Look." Roy pouted moodily. The hair on the back of her neck began to crawl. "All I ever did was give her everything she asked for. I did nothing wrong by her. That's all there is to it."

"All there is to it." Murphy repeated. Roy's eyes darkened with pure hatred for the man. He was used to people kowtowing to his will, bending to his anger – he was used to getting his own way. This was a Roy she had barely been introduced to before. How do you like it now? Her mind screamed suddenly.

"No further questions, your honor." Murphy said.

A few more days to go, Pam thought, and then it will be over.

She couldn't wait.

- TO -

She also found that she couldn't wait to go to Jim, as they filed out for lunch. The stark memories that Roy had brought to life that morning rankled in her and she found herself wanting Jim. She was willing to admit to herself that she did need him – as the antithesis of Roy, the bright star to Roy's black hole – she did need him. It was terrifying to admit that to herself, it put her on the line, needing was dangerous, needing was destructive, needing only led you to the end of that line where hurt and abandonment were waiting, a cruel game of tag.

She had been a needy, vulnerable young girl when she met Roy. Look where that had got her. She hated that girl.

Nevertheless, she went to Jim with open arms, initiating the hug herself. Her grip was almost desperate, but warm and he happily responded, wrapping his own, not so steady arms around her. She pressed her head against his neck, and let herself be comforted by the warm, familiar scent of his skin, relishing the feeling of love that radiated from him.

"I thought he was going to lose it up there." Jim commented as they sat down in the small room for lunch.

"Yeah." Pam hummed.

"Mr Murphy was very good with him." said Betsy, sitting opposite them.

Pam pursed her lips, looking downward. "He still couldn't say that he did it, though."

"He didn't say he didn't." Jim pointed out.

Slowly her head turned to Jim, shock in her eyes. She considered his comment, thinking back over the morning testimony. Roy was stubborn and not always very clever, and often walked a thin line of never giving too much of himself away. Jim was absolutely right.

It was almost as good as an admittance of guilt.