The courtroom felt much smaller than usual. As though the throngs of curious spectators had packed into the place like it was a rush hour subway, squeezed into corners and aisles, the close scrutiny of a couple hundred pairs of eyes all on her. It felt like a nightmare. Naked, she might as well be naked.

She wasn't dreaming.

Pam looked down at her wrist, ropey with raised, puffy red-white lines of skin before flicking her eyes back to Murphy, ambling along the aisle in front of Judge Summers, his hands folded behind his back. His voice was typically mellow and considerate, his posture dignified as he presented his closing statement to the court. The graceful gait that he possessed was almost hypnotic, but not enough to still her churning thoughts. The room was hazy, the people blurry and dreamlike. It was as though she was inside a dream but unable to wake up, lost and far, far away from her surroundings. Everything was happening around her, but she was not there in the middle of it all. Gritting her jaw hard she gripped her left wrist with force, squeezing her fingernails sharply into the tender flesh there and twisted.

A quick sting flared across her skin, keen but dull; enough to jolt another dose of reality into her. Seconds later a warm stickiness trickled gradually along her wrist bone and over the back of her hand. She clenched her fist. It was over. Almost over.

"In cases like this one," Murphy continued. "We aren't supposed to know who the "victim" is until the verdict is read. It often comes down to what you believe. Do you believe this man, sitting here is capable of the horrific things he has been accused of? Do you believe that Ms Beesly sat distraught in this courtroom and fabricated a story of abuse? You have seen photos, photographs that show Pam Beesly with various grievous injuries. You have heard from colleagues, neighbors, relatives, strangers as to the volatile nature of the relationship between Pam and Roy. You think about that. You ask yourselves what you think about that. Do you believe, as the defendant would have you, that she caused those injuries to herself, or that after physically fighting with him the night she left, she had the great misfortune to encounter someone else who inflicted these injuries? You can see the defense is a lie, that Roy Anderson abused Pam violently that night, and many nights for years prior."

Pam pulled her cardigan more closely around her, and slipped her fingers inside her sleeves, staring steadfastly ahead, never allowing herself to lose her focus even an inch to the left, where he was sitting. She hadn't realized just how desperately she wanted this to end and now that the final day or two had approached she positively hungered for the chance to never see him again.

"At the start of this trial, I told you this was a case about pain and suffering. Suffering – torment – at the hands of the defendant. The facts are clear." Murphy said firmly. "The defendant wasn't a kind and gentle man who simply reacted poorly to an unfaithful girlfriend. The defendant wasn't even a particularly considerate man, nor a man who thought twice about using his own brand of punishment on his fiancee. There is no evidence of infidelity on Ms Beesly's part. In fact, we have statements given under oath that Pam actively shied away from activities and functions if they did not include her partner. However, infidelity, real or imagined, is not an acceptable reason to commit assault. There is no acceptable reason to inflict cruelty on a person that you profess to love."

Roy snorted. Murphy spun round, glaring at Roy with an almost savage intensity. It was so uncharacteristic of the calm, composed lawyer that Pam, who had begun to believe that nothing could possibly shock her anymore, drew back aghast in her seat.

"This man," Murphy stressed derisively, jabbing a finger at Roy. "Brutalized this woman, this woman who weighs at least eighty pounds less than him, who is rail thin and over a foot shorter; he held her captive under a reign of fear. He made her own home unsafe. He took away her feeling of safety – her right to be safe, protected in her own home. Think on that – is that right? Is that what we expect from a kind, loving partner? From a decent member of our society?"

Murphy was on a roll. Something had overtaken him, something was spurring him on hotly and as Pam listened she slowly let her eyes close, her inner eyebrows pushing together.

"The defendant wants you to believe she stayed with him because he treated her right. Because he loved her. However, it has been shown that Mr Anderson controlled the financial aspects for the both of them. He had possession of the bank accounts. He controlled where her money went. Pam was forced, by her own statement, to stash money inside the binding of books and other unusual places in order to plan an escape. She was dependent on him. He constantly belittled her, telling her she was incapable of looking after herself, that no one else could love her. She was isolated from her friends and family. She was terrified. She lived with him, she worked in the same building. They knew all the same people. Remember, her own home had become a place of terror, a place of battle for survival. This was the first time she had lived with a man, the first serious, long term relationship she had been in. Her whole life rotated about him. Pam had a legitimate fear of the world outside that home – why would she expect the world to be any kinder to her than Roy had been?"

The man was angry. Pam realized this with a jolt; Murphy was angry. Not the wild, unbridled fury that Roy often unleashed, but a tight, controlled anger that made his words sharp as daggers, his eyes red with wrath as he stared the defendant down unflinchingly.

"You've all seen how easily truths can be turned around. A simple office prank can be twisted into something malicious. A platonic hug or kiss can be turned into something sordid. But the evidence during this trial – these photos photos are irrefutable, incontrovertible evidence. Graphic testimony. Medical reports. Witnesses."

"Roy," he exclaimed, his voice just short of a growl. "Repeatedly stated he 'treated her right'. What is his definition of treating someone right? Is it shoving, pushing, yelling, grabbing at them, ordering them around? This is what we've heard described on the stand by witness who saw the defendant treat her this way on many occasions. Is it leaving them bruised and bloodied and fearing for their life? Actions speak volumes over words. What did Roy do when he was told that his fiancee had been rushed to the emergency room? Did he race to the hospital to get to her as fast as possible? Did he attempt to contact the hospital? Did he contact her boss who was with her at the time? No, he did none of these things. What he did do was go home and wait five hours before making his way to the hospital."

The room was intimidatingly silent, Murphy paused to let his words sink in. Even the expected Roy-explosion did not break the tension, to Pam's surprise.

"Multiple times throughout this case, in this courtroom we have been treated to the sight of Mr Anderson's short temper." Murphy said pointedly. "However, what we have seen of this is only a fraction of what Pam faced at home, in private – all alone." he stressed sharply. "Pam was not an unfaithful partner, nor was she a negligent one. She did everything she could to please Roy. She refused to see her friends when she knew he wouldn't like it. She skipped family functions, work events. She gave up her long standing dream of attending art school because Roy, the defendant, did not want her to follow any kind of interest in art."

She would bet all her money that steam was flying out of Roy's ears by that point. She was not going to indulge him one single second by so much as even looking at him again. Pam knew exactly what she would see – deeply flushed cheeks, hard, glinting eyes, fingers curled into fists twitching desperately to connect with someone's face. His lower lip would be pouted out and his nostrils flaring like angry bullet holes. Roy never changed.

"There were countless hospital visits where Pam sought medical attention. We've seen the evidence. Broken fingers, toes. Sprains, stitches. Broken bones. Multiple broken ribs, severe bruising, lacerations, burn scars, muscle damage. The signs were obvious – hospital staff repeatedly asked if she was a victim of domestic violence.

And even after she had left Roy, it was clear that he was not done tormenting her. He came to her temporary place of residence and contacted her at her place of work. He made phone calls to her, left her messages which were often explicit and unpleasant. He implied he wished her dead. He made attempts to divide her from her family and her colleagues even further once they had separated. We have seen the photos of the injuries to her neck- large red fingerprints. This was not an accident, or a simple loss of control. The defendant swears he is not a violent man. He has taken no responsibility, shown no remorse for the suffering he has inflicted on Pam. He has repeatedly tried to sway the blame and manipulate this court into believing that Pam caused the abuse to herself by being unfaithful or – as he stated – 'frustrating.'.

My client has suffered a great deal throughout her years with the defendant. She has had to relive everything for a court of strangers and in front of her own family, friends, co-workers and her partner. She suffers from post traumatic stress, amongst other health inflictions caused directly by this case. Mr Anderson's continued denials of his physically attacking her, of putting her in fear of her life has been particularly devastating for her. Ladies and gentleman, I know you all have heard the truth throughout this trial from Pam, and you understand the absolute brutality of what she has been through with the defendant. There is no explaining it away, there s no reasoning – and there is no blame on the part of Pam."

He stood looking down witheringly at Roy. Then abruptly he spun round to face the jury.

"I'm going to ask you to think about this. Take your time. What we have heard here has sometimes been very difficult. But we have a duty to protect each other in our society from harm. Think back over Ms Beesly's testimony. Remember how she described her fear and terror, remember that she legitimately feared for her life.

Would there not be reasonable fear that this man, this man right here, would continue this abusive behavior if he was acquitted? Some of you on the jury, and in the gallery will have daughters, sisters, female friends. Would you feel at ease if someone you loved were dating this man?

It is up to this court to protect Pam Beesly and future women that the defendant may enter into a relationship with if acquitted."

There was a collective silence in the room – as though every one was holding their breath. Pam did not dare to look around, simply gripping the arms of her chair so tightly her knuckles turned white. She listened intently, and sensing the end of her sides summation, she made up her mind.

"I ask you to please come to the safest judgement, and return a verdict of guilty."

A strangely triumphant feeling of relief swept over her as Murphy came back to his seat beside her and lowered into the small wooden chair. She waited for the judge to call recess before Roy's attorney was to start his own summation. The words had barely left Judge Summers lips before Pam was on her feet and heading for the exit, motioning to Jim to follow her.

-TO-

Pam stepped out of the courtroom into a ferocious, icy wind that rushed through her hair and rippled the fabric of her coat, splattering fat, restless raindrops over every vulnerable part of her. She blinked away the immediate cold sting in her eyes while they adjusted to the gloomy daylight.

"Woah." Jim exclaimed, seizing Pam's hand. Without another word, they raced down the courtroom steps together and around the corner into the parking lot. Despite being less than thirty seconds in the pelting rain, they both managed to sustain a fair amount of wet clothing by the time they had scrambled in to Jim's car.. Jim's hair was almost flattened against his head, while Pam carefully squeezed water out of her curls. She turned to him, grinning sheepishly.

"Thanks." she said genuinely, unconsciously wincing as an ear-splitting thunder roiled across the sky above them. Jim looked at her incredulously, a small smile of amusement playing on his lips. "I couldn't stay….." She looked down at her hands.

"Maybe we could risk a tornado next time." she said, shaking her head half heartedly.

"Lotta storms lately." Jim observed, starting the wipers up. "Seems like this is the worst of all though."

"Figures." Pam muttered, putting a hand to the window. Heavy bullets of water rattled off the roof and against the sides of the car, ripping the silence around them apart. She peered through the glass in quiet contemplation, into the deep grey sky.

"He's going to get away with it." she said expressionlessly.

Jim looked at her thoughtfully. "I don't think so, you know." he said gently. "I really don't."

Pam turned around and righted herself in the passenger seat. "He always does." she said, her eyes following the movement of the windscreen wipers.

"Is that why you wanted to leave so quickly?" Jim asked curiously.

She nodded slowly, then blinked and shook her head. "No. It was… you know, I couldn't listen to Roy's lawyer give his closing speech, could I? How could I listen to him defend Roy and talk about how he didn't do any of it, and make excuses for him. How could I do that?"

"That's the thing with justice, Beesly." Jim bit his lip. "Truth and fairness. It's never equal."

Silently she conceded he was right. It had been a trade off in frustration and futility to get to the end of the case. She had had to give up almost everything, the most intimate parts of herself for justice and to get Roy away from her. How was that justice? Could she put this behind her now, knowing that everyone knew, everyone she cared about would be tripping over the bare bones she had laid out for years to come? How would she move forward if her dad always looked at her with such guilt, her mom in tears over the whole situation.

All it took was one man.

Roy had affected each and every member of her family, her friends through her. There could be no justice for all. She had a terrible feeling that Roy was going to walk away from this, and she knew with certainty that he would never let her walk away from it.

The thought that Roy could be free as soon as the next twenty-four hours sat like a volcano in her stomach. She would forever be watching over her shoulder for him. She would end up alone and running. She knew it. It would all be over in the next few days, and yet it could never be over.

"Listen, Pam," Jim tugged softly at a lock of her hair, causing her to turn to face him. "Listen. I didn't want to say anything before, because I didn't want you to think I was counting on the worst happening, or anything. This is just precaution, okay? But, you remember Mark?"

Nervously she nodded. Seconds later a blinding fork of lightning ripped out of the sky, quickly followed by an angry crackle of thunder.

"It sounds like the world is coming to an end." she mumbled morosely.

"Not our world, Beesly." Jim leaned over, kissing her forehead lightly. "Listen… I've been thinking for a while about what to do if the worst comes to the worst and Roy got out. I talked to Mark."

Her stomach flipped. "Mark your old housemate?"

"Yup. He's up in New Haven now. He'd put us up if we wanted to get away somewhere inconspicuous. You know, it's discreet and far enough away for you to rest easy, right?"

Pam took a moment, trying to untangle it all in her mind. "Like… get away for a while? Together?"

"Of course together!" Jim stifled a laugh, turning a playful eye on her. "He even agreed to take you in, after hearing about how you're kind of a slob and-" he broke off as she swatted at him, smirking in jest.

"So, this is the plan?" she said, growing serious again. Jim smiled.

"It's a plan." he replied cryptically. "Plan A."

"How many plans are there?" she asked, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice.

"About five."

"Five? You've put a lot of thought into this." She said, trying to stifle a smirk. Jim was looking at her closely. "I'm not laughing at you." She put a hand on his arm. "I'm just so relieved this part of it is over. And that you seem to have taken care of everything."

"Whatever comes next, we'll handle it." he assured her.

Her hand moved to softly stroke his arm in appreciation, and he leaned towards her. One of his hands found her cheek and he began to gently caress it, wiping away a few tears that had tracked down her face.

"Do you know how much I love you?" he said, and looked her in the eyes. He waited for her as she contemplated her response. His hand on her cheek felt so good. Then she moved back from his grasp, meeting his eyes nervously.

"You know something?" she said softly, leaning towards him. Her neck turned and she gently lay her head on his shoulder. "I really do."

Jim pressed his lips to her head, holding them against her forehead for a long moment. Pam nestled in, comfortable in the warm groove of his shoulder, while the rain drummed loudly on the roof and she smiled, a real smile, one that wasn't made of false bravado or a mask over her true feelings.

Despite the circumstances, she was happy. She made a soft noise, raising her hand slightly and laid it on his chest. Jim had wound his free arm around her shoulders and she breathed in deeply, inhaling him, the scent of security, the scent of safety.

"I feel safe with you." she whispered.

Jim practically melted, dropping his chin down to the top of her head. He knew she probably expected some response to that, but she had said it so casually, so matter of factly. The words choked up in his throat, his heart burned. She couldn't have said anything else that meant more to him than that. He knew her so well, well enough to know exactly how big a guard she was letting down just for him.

Above them, thunder boomed menacingly, but neither noticed. That was the outside world.

The outside world had nothing on them.