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Author's Chapter Notes:
Some angst and some fluffy stuff..... just because. Enjoy or not but thank you for reading x

Looking down from the ceiling corner where she was carefully brushing a duster back and forth, Pam twisted around awkwardly, squinting against the dying light as she heard soft footsteps enter the room.

"What… are you doing?" Jim said, perplexed. Even with the added leverage of the stool, she didn't quite reach his height, and they now stood almost eye to eye in the small room.

"I was –" Pam let out a small shriek as her foot slipped forward mid-turn and she tumbled off the stool, instinctively snatching at the nearest towel hanging on the rack to her left. "Oh...um.." she flushed a deep red as Jim reached out to steady her and the extendable handle of the duster clattered to the floor between them.

"You okay?" he asked, watching her uncomfortably attempt to regain her footing.

Pam nodded vigorously, her slightly panicked breathing betraying her. She could see Jim wasn't fooled. "I was just getting rid of the spiderwebs."

"Okay…." Jim replied suspiciously, looking around the room, noting the bleach white sink with its gleaming taps and the immaculate tub. "Where did you even get that thing?" he nudged the duster handle with his toe.

"It's called a duster." she retorted, immediately wishing she could snatch the words back. Jim's face fell.

"You cleaned up in here, and out there-" he jabbed a thumb behind him. "As well. Why'd you wait until I was gone?"

She shifted nervously, blushing even deeper in color. "I didn't wait…" she said weakly. "It needed to be done and you were out getting our dinner."

Jim sighed heavily. "Well, dinner's downstairs, anyway."

"What does that mean?" She looked back at him with narrowed eyes, feeling ever more anxious at the offhandedness of his tone.

"What?" he shrugged carelessly.

"You huffed."

"That wasn't a huff. That was more of a…. you don't have to clean up around here thing."

"A thing?" she repeated abruptly, leaning back against the cool porcelain edge of the sink.

"Yeah. I mean, I just… want you to get that you don't have to be doing this stuff around here." Jim shrugged again, his hands sliding into the pockets of his pants.

"I thought you'd appreciate a clean house."

"I do." he answered honestly. "If you want to do it, knock yourself out, okay? But… if you're doing it because you think you have to or that I'll be mad at you if you don't, then maybe you should never touch another one of these..things, again." he said, crouching low and lifting up the duster. He set it down gently beside the faucet.

"You're being ridiculous." she pouted.

"Hey… all I meant," Jim reached for her arm and caught hold of her elbow, gently easing her toward him. "Come here.. I just-"

Immediately she paled, gasping and jumped back, sharply wrenching her arm away from him. Her already tender lower back struck the sink harshly, in turn rattling the cabinet above which began to spill various tubes and bottles down. Pam watched the mess clatter into the sink she'd just thoroughly cleaned and looked to Jim with wide, nervous eyes.

It seemed like a long time before he spoke. "Hey… I'm not… I'm not –"

"Not Roy?" She spat bitterly, surprising herself with the hostility so obvious in her voice. "Don't you think I know that? What do you think after having to sit there in court right in front of him all day, practically in arms reach, that I can't tell the difference between you?"

"No… just…" he mumbled self consciously, fidgeting his hands inside his pockets.

"Just what?"

"I wasn't going to hurt you." Jim shifted, looking down at the floor.

Realization dawned all over her face in anguish. Then quickly her body stiffened and her expression hardened, too anxious and angry to be able to be properly rational. "Why are you making such a big deal out of this?" she said, despising herself for the blatant whine that had slipped into her voice.

"You're not making any sense." Jim said slowly. "It's okay, let's just go down-"

"It's not though!" she cried at him. "It's not okay. It's not! Either you want me to be one thing or the other, but don't be mad at me because I don't know what you want!"

Jim stared at her in bewilderment. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"Everything he said today-"

"I don't care what he said, or what he thinks-"

"Oh, that's right. 'I needed him.'And what if the jury believes him? What will-"

"I know the truth, remember! I saw you that night-"

"You heard him!" she shouted. "You heard him, how he actually believes every word that he says, and if he gets off you know he's going to come right for me, and he'll go through you if he has to. Why don't you understand that?"

"Hey." Jim paused, eyeing her carefully. "Come on."

"Come on what?" she whirled on him suddenly. "Why don't you just say for once what you're really thinking. And for that matter, just tell me when I've upset you or done something wrong – don't just leave me wondering, it's not fair!"

"Stop." Jim said patiently. He was forcing himself to remain calm, but looking at her pale cheeks and reddened, dark eyes, the sudden blazing rage that had overcome her made it a struggle. "Just, stop, okay?"

She stared at him, with large, wounded eyes. "Pam." he said, attempting to put a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay."

She shrugged his hand off her, hard, and backed up, a sharp flare of pain attacking her lower back as it collided with the sink again.

"Just stop saying that!" she suddenly screamed. "Stop!"

Jim drew back from her in record speed, shocked. Speechlessly he watched as the hard mask she wore slipped, revealing the exhausted, terrified woman underneath, the woman shocked by the force of her own rage. Roughly she pushed past him.

"Pam, wait." he pleaded at her back. She paused in the doorway. The dark was beginning to thicken in the room as the hour grew on, but even in the fading light he could not miss the near violent shaking of her shoulders or that her hands were balled up like fists inside her sleeves. She let out a stifled choke.

"Let me go."

She didn't turn around. All of a sudden she was gone and he heard soft footfalls as she scurried across the hallway, and a moment later, the gentle click of the door to the spare room closing.

Jim stayed standing in the same spot, weary and feeling completely out of his depth. After a moment he himself went out into the hallway. He stood quietly, half way between the bathroom and the bedroom, contemplating the closed door. It was there that the unmistakable sound of more distressed cries echoed back to him, and he sank to his knees on the hallway carpet, feeling as though he was slowly drowning in ice cold water.

-TO-

While Jim suffered through what felt like the battle of all battles with himself, Pam stayed sequestered in the spare room, the same room she had stayed in the previous year, beaten and raw. It seemed only fitting in a way that she had sought sanctuary in there once more.

He was torn. He desperately wanted to go to her, to hold her small body against himself, to slip his fingers through the smooth, plush curls and reassure himself again that she was safe and that she was with him. To take her cheeks in his hands and kiss away the tears and the hurt that had been handed to her.

But she had run. She had shut herself away from him, she had practically begged him to leave her alone. And there it was, like a ghostly aria floating down through the ceiling to him, the cries of anguish and torment.

How was he to ignore that?

How could he not go to her?

He mulled over the events of the courtroom that day. It was all too easy for him to explain to himself, if not understand, her sudden outburst. Roy was a manipulative bastard. Jim had listened to every word with seething frustration and growing ire at the man who had shattered Pam's trust and hurt her so badly that she couldn't fully trust even himself, who would never ever do anything purposely to cause her any pain or hurt. Who would give his life for hers if he had to. Who wanted to keep her safe, the opposite of Roy.

He couldn't say it didn't hurt him.

And Roy had spoken about her like she was useless, weak, unable to fend for herself. He claimed that she needed him.

She needed to get away from him, that was all she needed.

And yet right then it felt like it was Jim she wanted to get away from. That hurt more than he thought possible. The thought that she might ever decide to leave him terrified him. Coming home and finding her in the midst of her Roy-habits, Roy-routines, the simple acts she carried out like a step by step suit of armor to keep her safe from him. It made him physically sick.

He again looked at his watch – she'd been shut away up there in the bedroom for almost an hour. He thought he could still hear the softer sounds of crying drifting downstairs, but it was possible his guilty imagination was tricking him. She'd made it clear she wanted to be left alone. The trouble was, he didn't.

It wasn't the things she had said, or shouted, but rather the things she hadn't said. He drummed his fingers anxiously on the arm of the chair, listening carefully for sounds from the room above.

He didn't know why she thought he was mad at her. He didn't understand why she had to clean up behind his back every time he left a room or the house, as though it was the most important thing on the planet that he walk into a tidy room.

He didn't understand why she confused the two of them, him and Roy.

The only thing he did understand at that moment was that he was deeply in love with her, and she was deeply hurting which meant that he was, too.

Unable to sit still a moment longer, he hauled himself roughly from the couch and went into the kitchen.

- TO -

Pam, unaware of the torment her partner was submerging himself in downstairs, lay wrapped up in her own cocoon of guilt and despair. She was a horrible girlfriend, a terrible partner, a bad, rotten person. She had once again treated Jim appallingly, she knew it. He would be better off without her. She pushed and she pulled at him, and pushed him away again and again.

She didn't mean it. She didn't mean any of it.

Yet, she was so ready to beg him to forgive her, to do anything to have him not be hurt by her, not be angry at her any longer.

Because she did need him.

Because she did love him.

It was Roy – it was always Roy – getting inside her head, twisting her senses up like that. Roy's words in court that day, Roy's memories that confused her, that made her flip out in the bathroom like that. How could she have treated Jim so badly?

It was Roy's face she had seen as Jim had reached out to her, Roy's hand that had stretched out to grip her arm painfully, not Jim's warm, gentle fingers that wanted not to hurt, but to comfort her.

She rolled her tear stained cheeks against the pillow, her knees pushing into her chest and sobbed quietly to herself, knowing somehow that she would end up ruining everything.

- TO -

She thought she was dreaming when the blurry shape of a hand set a steaming mug down on the night table beside her. And she wondered if she was imagining the slow, gentle fingers coursing through the smooth thickness of her hair so sweetly. The warmth of a welcome, masculine body beside her, a male, messy head on the pillow next to her was surely in her mind and not in reality. She wanted it so badly.

She lay still, afraid if she moved even an inch she would wake up and scare the ghostly hands away from her, not wanting to wake up alone in the room, alone in the detritus of the mess she had created. Wanting to believe that someone – him – still cared about her, in spite of her wild outbursts and rapid mood swings. In spite of the chaos she had brought into his life.

A sweet and chocolatey aroma swaddled around her, wonderfully soothing to her frayed nerves. Somewhere faintly in the room was the aromatic scent of wood spices, a healthy, smoky fragrance she recognized and loved. She breathed in slowly, deeply, letting her eyes droop shut, savoring the feel of the cool fingers tenderly stroking her hair back. A velvety sensation of warmth embraced her, an awareness of love sinking several layers deep through her skin as the sensation slipped down her body from her hair to her hip where the hand came to rest.

Her heart fluttered wildly, she opened her eyes to the dim wall opposite. It was real. The bed was small, smaller than Jim's but it was soft and comfortable and somehow he'd slipped on to the sheets beside her. Pam stared at the wall, feeling the blankness stare back at her. Jim had come to her, Jim was no longer mad at her. A small teardrop slowly trickled out from the corner of her eye, slipping down her cheek towards her ear and wetting the strands of hair against the pillow. Gratitude swarmed over her. He was there, behind her on the bed.

Tentatively, her small, unsteady hand lifted and moved upwards, reaching behind her until her fingertips gently prodded warm skin. Lightly her fingers traveled over his, gently touching and intertwining them together. The warmth between them closed as he nudged himself closer to her, and feeling calm for perhaps the first time in days, she leaned back into him cozily, content to stay right there next to him.

-TO-

"I'm sorry" Pam heard herself whisper. She pressed her head backwards into the crook of his shoulder, a dull throb pulsing in her left ear from laying against the pillow for so long.

"Doesn't matter." Jim spoke for the first time since he had entered the room.

"Yeah. It does. I'm so sorry."

They lapsed into silence once more, Pam staring at the wall with wide, glassy eyes and Jim nuzzling his face into her curls.

"What is it?" he mumbled quietly.

She squeezed his hand a littler tighter. "I'm scared." She bit her lip hard. "I'm scared of everything. I'm scared of how I yelled at you this evening. I'm so scared that it's never going to be over and that it's going to rip us into pieces."

She felt Jim squeeze her hand in response but he did not speak.

"I'm scared that every time I close my eyes I'll see his face," she continued, her voice weak and frail. "I'm terrified I'll never look at the world in the same way."

The white of the wall opposite glared back at her, stark and challenging in its emptiness. That was what she needed. A big white do-over, a blank slate. That's what she and Jim needed.

"But…" she whispered blankly, inhaling. "I'm glad I'm doing this. Jim, if we didn't do this, take him to court, he wouldn't stop. He'd have killed me in the end. Or worse he would have moved on to another girl, or hurt someone else worse. He would have kept going because Roy doesn't know how to stop. It's more than just saving me, but also those other girls in the future."

"I know, love."

Tears welled up in her eyes again. "I really am sorry."

"Don't. It's over now. Don't worry about it. I'm sorry too, for my part." Jim confessed, his head dropping.

Pam blinked in surprise. "But you didn't-"

"It takes two to fight." he said wearily, feeling a pang of guilt at how he'd cornered her in the bathroom. In retrospect he didn't blame her for becoming so upset.

"I thought… I mean after we…Why am I always screwing this up?" she blurted out in a small voice.

"Hey, no…" Jim faltered, hating how she had yet again automatically assumed the full share of the blame. "No.. It was just a fight, I'll continue to walk beside you. Face it Beesly, I've been in this relationship since the day I met you. I pretty much fell in love with you that day. That's how special you are."

"I don't feel very special."

"I know." he winced. "It kills me that you don't know how amazing you are." Jim said, and kissed the nape of her neck. "But I'll prove it to you. Just you wait, Beesly."

"Mmmm. Okay." she half smirked.

Jim kissed her again, then his tired eyes flickered around the room nervously. "I think I'd do anything to have a day where it's just me and Roy. I'm furiously mad at him for what he has done to you. Prison's just not enough."

"I know." She whispered. "Thank you." Words caught in her throat. There was something very secure and primitive and, well, safe in Jim's admittance of fury on her behalf. "He… abused me…. Hurt me…" she said slowly, staring back at the empty wall. Beside her Jim nodded.

"Like… during sex and all." she said tonelessly. "He did it."

Jim, silent with horror suddenly found his mouth filled with bile, struck momentarily by uncharacteristic rage. Her small, weary voice. Her thin, fragile body in his arms, delicate bones that Roy had treated so horrifically. How could he have done it? What match had she been for him? Roy deserved so much worse than prison.

And there was nothing he could do, to Roy, for Pam, nothing – the damage had all been done. And she was right- Roy would come after her if acquitted -although Jim suspected that anything other than a guilty verdict was unlikely at that point.

He had to be realistic though. He had already begun to plan ahead – her safety was too important to risk. If things didn't go their way, he would be prepared. He wouldn't let her be held up like a lamb to the slaughter, waiting for a death sentence. No.

He didn't say anything as he was swamped in fury, thoughts of retribution, mulling over what they were going to do and when, if he should tell her what he had planned. He let his arms do the talking for him, pulling her tightly against his chest, slowly bending his neck to kiss her forehead, forming a protective circle around her knowing at that moment actions meant far more than words.

There was nothing left to do but wait. The last handful of witnesses would be wrapped up in the next day and then, Pam was correct – fate would be left in the hands of twelve strangers. Not just Roy's fate, but Pam's too.


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