Jim was a man on a mission. Having weighed up the options as he saw them he was positive he was doing the right thing. He climbed out of the car, ignoring the heaviness squirming uncomfortably in his stomach and began to walk the short distance back. He hadn't exactly lied to Pam, he reasoned, yet how easily she had accepted his story of going to get his car inspected further piled on the guilt. And, with an extra dose of remorse weighing on him he offered to stop by the drugstore and get her prescription filled, a somewhat act of contrition on his part.

A small white lie for the greater good.

He was determined to make Pam's reentry into the office as smooth as possible. All he wanted to do was make things a little easier on her, without turning her into some kind of martyr or have her feel like everyone was tiptoeing on broken eggshells around her. The possibility that he might just be settling a score of sorts prodded uneasily in the back of his mind. It was for Pam, he reminded himself. It was always for Pam.

As he approached the building he briefly shot a glance back at the quiet satellite lot, feeling a small sense of relief that his own car was the only vehicle he recognized. Above him the sky was turning from the last of the orange-red color of the early morning into a difficult silver-grey as he walked briskly towards the main doors of the building. Once inside, he wasted no time in making his way to the stairwell and heading downstairs, thankfully not encountering anyone along the way.

It was hot inside the warehouse, and filled with a musty, unclean smell. He strode down past the rows of storage racks, piled high with freshly stacked boxes to the far end of the room where, behind the forklift that Michael had more than once illicitly crashed into the shelves, Daryl appeared, clad in a blue shirt and a clipboard under his arm. He looked surprised, and considering the grim stance of Jim in front of him, he couldn't blame him for it.

"Hey, man…" Daryl said pleasantly enough.

"Hey." Jim's tone was hard, harder than he expected and it surprised him. In that voice Jim heard something more than hardness. He heard anger, and an unusual burst of heat swept through him.

Daryl was looking Jim over carefully. Obviously sensing the storm brewing around the man who had always been so light-hearted and laid back, he slid the clipboard onto the shelves behind him with one hand and folded his arms. "Hey, Halpert. Back to the cracker factory, huh?"

"Yeah… well you know." Jim said, lifting a hand and leaning on it against the wall, effectively almost cornering Daryl.

"Yeah I do know, huh." Daryl chuckled uncomfortably. "So… uh… is Pam back too?""

"Nope, tomorrow. I'm kinda not really back yet until tomorrow either."

"Couldn't stay away from old Dwight, huh?" he stood with his arms crossed still, looking at Jim with a wary resignation.

Jim shook his head. "No, no, well -and hey… here's something I was thinking about, I was thinking how about you apologize to Pam?"

Daryl paused. "Huh?" he said, taken aback.

"I get it," Jim leaned forward earnestly and decided to get straight to the point. "Roy was one of the warehouse crew and I'm not saying you shouldn't be loyal to your crew but seriously, I'm just saying to go up on the stand like that, for Roy, and in front of Pam is…."

"I told the truth up there. I'm good." Daryl retorted. The mans posture shifted slightly, a rigidity settling into his heavy set limbs.

"Yeah, yeah you are. But hey, you know what… you sat up there looking sorry… you think she didn't see you looking at Roy like that. Like you were betraying him." Jim pointed out, not missing the subtle shock of guilt that darted in and out of the other mans eyes.

"I didn't offer to get up there." he said weakly.

Jim sighed, rankled by the response and what he saw as an insult to Pam. The man obviously knew what he had done, in Jim's eyes it wasn't good enough, and certainly nowhere near to the apology he wanted from him.

"Yeah.. just saying it seems a little rude," he replied diplomatically. "..at the least.. that you would go up there for Pam's side… when you might as well have painted it in neon on your forehead that you wanted to protect Roy."

Pulling himself up to his full height and looking Jim in the eye, Daryl spoke in a tight voice. "I'm sorry if it seems that way to you." he sighed and shook his head. "Look I get that Roy punched you out and got you pretty mad and all, but I was a neutral party."

"Neutral, right." Jim snorted impatiently. "No, nothing to do with Roy punching me. You see here's the thing… he literally tried to kill her. He choked her. And I guess I don't care if you're neutral or team Roy or whatever, but Pam's feeling pretty betrayed right now."

"Betrayed?" Daryl snapped. "Really, man?"

"Really." Jim said firmly. "And I was thinking, you know, it would mean a lot to her if you just told her you were sorry."

Daryl was now looking at him slack-jawed. His eyes narrowed to almost slits and Jim could see he had completely blind sided him, and now the man was literally caught in a corner, mouth twitching and lost for words.

"You want me to apologize to your girlfriend?" he said at last.

"Yes." Jim answered, with an earnest wide-eyed nod. "Yes I do."

He was sure then that Daryl was not going to apologize, that he was going to stand by Roy and forfeit any friendship with Pam, and himself in the process. He was sure Daryl was about to tell him to go to hell, to get the hell out of his warehouse as the mans posture grew stiffer and a flush of hectic color blazened his cheeks. But then the mans shoulders gave way and he slumped, looking at Jim resignedly.

"He, uh, really choked her?"

"Uh huh." Jim muttered darkly. His stomach turned violently. What had happened – what could have happened to Pam was not something he liked to think about and even less did he want to be talking about it. It had been hashed out in court enough. But here he was. For Pam.

"Really?" Suddenly it struck Daryl with a bang. He cleared his throat roughly, and looked to his left and to his right as though he was looking for a hole to disappear into. "But… you know…."

"But what?" Jim said coldly.

"Well….is me apologizing gonna make her feel any better about that?"

Jim flinched as though he had been struck and his gaze grew hard and unsettling. "Here's the thing Daryl," he said in tight voice. "You talked in court about Roy being a good guy and you repeated those sick jokes of his about Pam, and you knew he saw other women."

"Yeah, but...It wasn't my business" Daryl said infuriatingly. Jim had to wonder if he knew the man at all, if he had ever known him.

"I'm just saying you said under oath what a great guy Roy was," he persisted. "But it seems like you had a pretty good idea of exactly what kind of guy he was."

"I didn't-"

"Like you knew he wasn't treating her right." Jim cut him off, his eyes turning chilly.

"Hey man, how was I to know he was beating her?" Daryl flared up. "He played around, that wasn't my business. I didn't know there was anything more than that to it."

"You're right. But you didn't have to sing his praises in court and right to Pam's face. She's always been good to you, she's looked after your daughter, she helped you out when you were getting divorced."

Daryl stared at him, with the expression of a man who has his nose caught in a trap and knows it. "But…"

"But, if only you had said something to her. If only." Jim stopped abruptly, looking down at his feet. His point had been underscored just the same.

"Oh really? You really wanna play me like that, Halpert? Coming down here into my warehouse bitching me out about Roy –" Arms now ramrod straight at his sides, fists clenched, Daryl spoke in a low, unmistakably ominous tone. "Where were you? I didn't see you coming down here for a not so friendly chat with Roy. You didn't warn him off either, did you, man?"

Jim was silent. "You're right." he said finally, feeling very tired. His fight was gone. "You're right."

"Look, man -I get it, she's your girl and you're feeling guilty and yeah…." Daryl's tone softened. He took in a deep breath, letting it out quickly. "Yeah, I should have said something to her."

"Yeah." Jim said listlessly. He was thinking of Pam, and how it was a small world and because it was a small world the things that go around come around full force and right back to you. Like blame. Like guilt. "I guess there's enough guilt for everyone." he mumbled.

"I wasn't trying to defend him, you know. But I had to tell the truth up there. What could I have done?"

Jim jerked his head up sharply, staring at Daryl icily. "Just tell her you're sorry." he said flatly.

"That's it?"

"That's it." Jim replied stonily, and walked away, leaving the man staring bewilderedly after him.

On his way back up the stairs, Jim shook with a strange emotion he couldn't place a name to. He knew what had almost happened, he had come within a breath of losing it with Daryl. He didn't understand where the sudden anger had come from, didn't understand it a bit. Pam was doing well, so much better than the terrified, beaten down woman who had come to his doorstep almost two years ago. That woman who had been almost afraid to raise her voice past a whisper and afraid to leave the house or let a single thing fall out of place and make the house untidy and a thousand other things in fear of angering him. That girl was gradually disappearing, dissolving back into the brave, funny and adventurous woman he had been introduced to his first day at dunder mifflin. He didn't want to do anything to wreck her recovery. But he was angry, so angry.

Stomping up the stairs, he quickly exited the building and made his way to his car. He swerved out of the parking lot recklessly, turning back and heading for what he hoped would be some respite.

Fortunately for him, when he arrived at the small gym the same area that he and Pam had used a few days ago was free. As he grimly strapped on the yellow vinyl gloves and steadied the vertical bag in front of him the irony of what he was doing struck him like a sledgehammer. He wondered if this was how Roy had felt when he hit Pam, this red hot burning insatiable rage. He wondered if, at that moment, he was just like Roy, punching, punching, punching. Angry, angry angry. He swung tirelessly, fuelled on by burgeoning feelings of powerlessness, hurt, frustration, of not being there for Pam for all those years when she was alone with Roy, for not being strong enough to just tell her how he felt back then and maybe saving her more years of pain.

For Daryl, who had truly hit the bullseye dead center, ripping the good-guy mask right from Jim and held a mirror up to his face. All the time he and Pam had been friends, all the years he had just waved away the gnawing feelings following her flimsy excuses, brushed off the sparks of concern roiling his gut when she showed up to the office hurt. Oh, Jim. I just fell down the stairs. And he had believed her every time. Because he wanted to. He wanted to believe her lies because her lies meant that she was okay, and she was happy with Roy, which meant in turn that he couldn't - he had truly convinced himself - reveal his true feelings for her when she was happy with Roy.

He had taken the easy way out.

He was the one closest to her. He was the one who could have made her listen – but he hadn't even tried. Because he was a coward, and weak. Anger flowed out of him, his pores oozing fury as he swung harder, sending the bag flying backwards sharply.

He couldn't go home. He lashed out fiercely again at the blur of moving red in front of him. He couldn't go back to Pam all pumped up radiating adrenaline and testosterone, it would terrify her. Damn Roy. Damn Daryl. Damn him.

He punched and punched and punched and soon Roy's face dissolved from his vision, replaced by one much more personal. No the man he was symbolically punching was no longer Roy, but right then, to Jim they might as well have been one and the same.

-TO-

It was some hours later when he finally did return back to the house, sweaty and exhausted. He had no sooner stepped through the door when Pam appeared cautiously in front of him, looking positively miserable.

"Hey." she began before he could get a word in. "Hey. Are you… um… I mean...I just… Is everything okay?" she finally managed to spit out. Jim looked right at her, freezing in the doorway, eyeing her pale face and hands wringing together against her stomach.

"Yeah. All good." he assured her and sauntered past her as casually as he could into the living room. He was dimly aware of her footsteps following behind him and he bent to pick up something- anything - off the little coffee table to make his hands look busy and purposeful.

"I, um, I was worried about you." he heard her say timidly, and something in her tone of voice struck him, that tiny, scared voice he had tried so hard to avoid. It was like she could read his mind. He turned, and his eyes met with hers.

"You were gone longer than you said and I just thought-" she said, and what ever she thought and was about to say was smothered into submission as he swiftly reached for her, pulling her against his chest. She lay her head down on his shoulder. The muscles in his back stretched taught and tense under her gentle hands, and she shifted her head uncomfortably. She would need to massage those shoulders, she thought, it felt like she was laying her head on a sheet of iron. Her stomach swam in the silence, it was hard not to be overwhelmed by the sad and hurt energy that was pouring out of him. Pam frowned worriedly, sorry it had come to this for him, because of her.

"Hey." she said into his shoulder before pulling back. "There's something I need to show you."

Pam stepped backwards, more sure of herself all of a sudden, and caught hold of his hand.

"What-"

"Trust me." she said, leading him to the stairs. When they started climbing she simply shushed him again, taking him up into the hallway. Turning around to him, she saw a familiar look in his eye as he looked knowingly towards their bedroom.

"Nope…" she said with a sly smile, tugging him away from the door. Much to his surprise, she headed down the little hallway and still holding him by the hand, opened the bathroom door.

"Okay.." Jim said, some of his good humor returning. "So this is what a bathroom looks like, I've always wanted to see-"

He stopped abruptly as he realized what Pam was doing. In one sleek movement her sweater was gone, pooled around her feet on the tiled floor. A spirited surge of excitement rippled through him; she had had nothing on under her sweater. And before he could gather his senses, her jeans were on the floor, kicked away carelessly behind her.

It was the most wonderful sight he had ever seen.

Wordlessly, she picked up his hand again, pressing it to her naked chest. "Let me show you how much I trust you." she said softly. She moved his hand lower down her breast, looking directly at him. "How much I love you and feel safe with you."

Pam stood in front of him, letting him touch her, letting his eyes linger over her naked skin. In many ways it was her final barrier to him; this was the first time she was letting him see her fully naked and she meant to let him enjoy it.

"Wow." he breathed. "You're so pretty."

Familiar tears attacked her eyes and she fiercely blinked them back, swallowing hard the words dying to tell him how that was simply not true, that she was not pretty and pushed away the discomfort the compliment gave her. You don't have to ignore compliments, her therapist had told her more than once. Just say thank you and accept it. No big deal.

"Thank you." she responded in a small, but strong voice. Smoothly she leaned behind her, moving the shower curtain to one side and flicked on the water. The shower head jumped and a stream gushed out heavy into the tub. "Come." she said simply, tugging his hand again. Letting go, Pam stepped over the side of the tub and under the warm water, tilting her face up toward the spray. A couple of seconds later and a rush of body heat heralded Jim behind her.

The sight of his smooth, lithe figure send wild excitement through her own body, excitement, sensations she had never experienced before. Gracefully her fingers slipped over his upper half, the warm, supple flesh of his chest before running her hands up his neck and cupping his face softly. Slowly, temptingly she let her lips linger close to his, teasing, enticing and she allowed his own fingers to roam free, allowed herself to fully enjoy the pleasant sensations undulating up and down her. It was the first time she had ever had real physical thrill from a man touching her and she hadn't known what she was missing. She moved against his body, placing soft, confident kisses over his mouth and cheeks before drawing her head back against the spray, near delirious with pleasure.

They fit together perfectly and as the shower rained down on them, washing them clean as one, Pam saw that sometimes actions sent the loudest message. Words can hurt, words can cheat and lie, but what they were doing right then couldn't be faked. And as she soared blissfully against him, she knew she had gotten her message across perfectly.

After all, as Ben Franklin had once pronounced – well done is better than well said.