Pam was sure she didn't remember the man at all. Her memory of that night was misty, a cloud of shapes and silhouettes. The long dark tunnel she had fled through, running for her life. Her feet, they had hurt so much. Blood, stark and vivid pooled into the grooves between her knuckles. She had been so cold her bones had shook. This was what she remembered of that night.

"...what went down when we got there, she went up the drive and starting talking to a guy, and I was waiting for my money, I had another fare to get to. They keep us on a pretty tight leash."

The words slipped in and out of her ears. She truly could not recall this man. None of what he was saying was connecting to her; he was a stranger, not even a speck in her history.

"You've told my colleague, Mr Murphy, and the courtroom earlier that Ms Beesly instructed you to drive her to a specific residential address – at no time asking for you to take her to a hospital, or the police station?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Did she ask for help in any way?"

"No, she was real clear about where she wanted to go."

The defense attorney strode across the courtroom, waving his arms dramatically. "This woman, sitting right here. This was the woman you picked up off the street. You said she was 'beat up' when she waved you down?"

The young man nodded. "Yes, sir."

"What did you think had happened to her at that time?"

As Pam watched, the man shifted uncomfortably. He was so young, maybe only a year or so out of his teens. They let kids become cab drivers these days, she thought. Then she felt the familiar guilt tidal wave through her. This was a kid – a kid who was probably very new on his job and here he was, testifying in criminal court because he had the misfortune to ride down her street that evening. Poor kid probably had nightmares because of her.

"I guess I thought she'd been jumped. She weren't telling me anything. She was totally spaced out. I asked her lots of times if I should drive her to the hospital but she kept saying no, sir."

"You're saying Ms Beesly refused to go to the hospital?"

"Yes, sir. I did tell her I thought I was supposed to take her there, but she kept shaking her head and she was only like my fourth or fifth fare since I started working and I didn't know how these things go or anything."

She hadn't realized that she'd been holding her breath until her chest started to throb. The numbness in her body was slipping away with every word, the empty spaces filling up with bruises and abrasions in places she had never felt before. Although she could not recall this kid on the stand, other memories were being prodded into existence, pitchforked in front of her eyes.

The defense attorney was talking rapidly.

"Would you please tell the courtroom again what happened when you got to the address she had given you?"

The witness scratched his neck nervously. "Um, she got out and I noticed there was blood on the door handle and some on the headrest. I was a bit scared, like I had worried she would puke in the cab and I'd have to pay the cleaning charges, but then she left blood in the cab. She went up to the door of this house saying to me she had no money and had to get the fare off someone, or something. Then when she was at the front door a guy came up behind her and they spoke for a minute, then they went inside. The guy came back outside with the fare. He gave me the hugest tip." he added.

"What did you make of this scene as you saw it?"

"Um… I wanted to know if the place I dropped her off was the place she got beat but she swore it weren't. The guy was definitely shook by seeing her – I couldn't hear them talking but I did hear him say 'oh my god' a lot. He got her indoors pretty quick. Then he came back out and gave me the money."

"Did he say anything to you?"

"He thanked me for bringing her there."

The defense paused for effect. "So, to sum it all up, she got into your cab, bruised and bloody – 'beat up' you called it, she refused all offers of help and she insisted you take her to this gentleman's – Mr Halpert's – house. No police, no explanation. Did you think that was strange in anyway?"

"Well… yeah… I was pretty shook myself."

"You stated, under oath, that you offered several times to drive her to the hospital. Did you believe she needed medical treatment?"

He nodded vigorously. "Yeah, she had blood coming out of her nose and her lip was split. She was breathing funny, like she couldn't get all her air in. Sounded like my brother did when he cracked a rib during soccer practice. I told her I thought she should go to the emergency room."

"Yet she was conscious all the time, physically capable of climbing out of the cab without assistance and walking up the driveway unaided and you didn't insist on her seeing the emergency room. You felt she was well enough to leave her there."

He chewed his lip, contemplating. "Well I don't know what went down after I left. I only know what I saw."

"Did she mention Mr Anderson at all to you?"

"No, sir."

"What was her emotional state like, was she crying when you picked her up?"

More chewing. "She had tears on her face but there was some blood and her cheek was blowing up, it was hard to tell in the dark. No she didn't cry in the cab or anything."

The image of her bolting out of the room flashed before her eyes. As well prepared as she had been for this, nothing could describe the torture of listening to someone autopsy the worst night of her life in front of a gallery. She knew about half the people in the room. She was on the sidelines of her own life. Murphy had given her the best advice and preparation he could – defense is going to twist everything, call you a liar Ms Beesly – but no, even he couldn't help her now.

It was still only the first day and the first witness. Already she was feeling broken down, doubting herself. Why hadn't she gone to the hospital or the police that night? She couldn't remember. Had she done the right things that night? She was the one in doubt, her actions were being scrutinized, not Roys. This was exactly how it was going to go. She knew it.

- TO-

There was no recess between witnesses. The second – and last – witness of the day was, to her relief, someone who had known both her and Roy before. This man she had fonder – and actual – memories of, although Murphy had briefed her on why he was calling this man as a witness, she found her mind empty of any relevance.

Routine questions were asked of him, how long had he lived next door to Pam and Roy, when did he leave, why did he leave. He was asked to describe them as neighbors.

"The man, Roy, he kept himself to himself a lot. The young lady was kind. She would always tap on the door and ask if I needed anything from the market. I didn't know them very well."

Pam found her lips moving into a smile, remembering the genuine gratitude he would bestow on her when she routinely knocked on his door.

"Thank you, Mickey. Can I call you Mickey?" Murphy asked politely.

"I would like that." Mickey said. He had aged a lot since Pam had last seen him. His voice was shaky and hoarse, weak sounding. "Please do."

She was discovering that sitting in the courtroom listening to testimony was a lot of sitting through tedious routine day to day questions. Studiously she kept her eye on her watch, waiting for the adjournment so she could go home and crawl into bed. She was exhausted enough.

"I'd like to ask if you recall a date in January, about four years ago, just after new year. Ms Beesly came to your home with some butterscotch candy for you. Can you remember this?"

Mickey took a long time to respond. He looked towards Pam apologetically before speaking. "I do. She brought it as a gift. She was very kind."

"Was there anything unusual in her visit that day?"

Another long pause. "Yes…" came the slow reply. "She had a limp. She said she had fallen down. Stairs maybe, my memory isn't good. She was wearing a scarf. It was hot as fried heck outside. I remember because I took my afternoon nap earlier that day as it was so hot I couldn't even take notice of the stories I usually watch on TV."

"And, did Ms Beesly give you any cause for concern during that visit?"

Once again his gaze flicked on Pam. "She...uh.. she wasn't right. She was moving around stiffly, as though she was hurt. She just seemed away with the fairies. She wasn't all there."

"What did you think of this at the time?"

"I thought that she and her man had got into a fight. She looked unhappy."

"Did Ms Beesly tell you she had had a fight with her partner that day?"

"No, she didn't, and I didn't ask."

Murphy nodded at the man, before walking over to Pam and lifting a stack of notes off the table. Shuffling through them he continues his questioning. "Were there other causes for concern you witnessed between Ms Beesly and Mr Anderson while you were living next door to them?"

"Yes…. you see.. there used to be a lot of shouting, and a lot of noise often that sounded like something being thrown around. My daughter was visiting one day and we heard that man bellowing fit to wake the devil. We heard her pleading with him – pleading to calm down, leave her alone. She made this this loud yelping noise a few times. It was a terrible sound, it left us feeling cold." Mickey replied.

"Did you report this to anyone, the police, or go next door to check on them at anytime?"

"No, never." he said, a look of shame coming over this face.

"If you thought Ms Beesly was in danger, why did you not inform the police?"

His face grew stern. "Times were different back in my day. What goes on in ones house stays in the house. It's nobodies business but their own. This sort of thing was very common when I was growing up. It wasn't done to be poking your nose into other peoples affairs."

"Did you ever see Mr Anderson strike Ms Beesly at any time?"

"No."

"Did you ever witness any incidents of violence between them?"

"Once I saw him yanking on her arm so hard she fell down. He was dragging her up the driveway to their front door, calling her all kinds of filthy things I could not repeat in a courtroom."

Pam dropped her head and covered her face with her hands in shame. She did not want to look up, she could feel Roy's furious eyes burning into her, she could hear the sounds of his vehement muttering to his attorney. He would be so angry – she could feel it all the way across the room, like a wildfire it spread, his anger touched her. Her hands were cold against her face. She was done with this already.

- TO -

Outside the courthouse, William Beesly was pacing angrily back and forth. The courtroom had emptied for the day, it seemed like none of them knew what they were supposed to do with each other then.

"Jail's too good for scum like him." William ranted.

Helene stood observing her daughters pale face and gaunt expression and moved to seize hold of William's elbow. "Okay, you are going to have to calm down." she said firmly.

"Can we just go?" Pam turned to Jim. "Please?"

Jim was already moving. "I think that's a good idea." he said, catching sight of Michael approaching them.

Pam stood back and let Jim say their goodbyes to everyone for the day and tried not to be seen. She was so tired her head hurt. Helene came towards her, swallowing her up in a hug. "See you tomorrow, honey. Promise me you'll call if you need to, okay?"

Pam mumbled her agreement, before moving quickly down the steps, her tight, drawn face softening a little as she saw Betsy waiting at the bottom.

"Hey Mom." Jim greeted her.

Betsy looked at Pam sympathetically. "I'm so very sorry to see you put through this." she told her.

Pam nodded tiredly. "How's your husband?"

"That's kind of you to ask. He's not completely well yet, but he's mending. Here," Betsy rummaged in her purse. "I brought you something I thought you might like to have. There." She handed a large rectangle to Pam, who took it apprehensively.

"Oh my god. Ohhh no!" Pam brightened up as she studied the photo.

Jim looked over her shoulder, frowning. "What is that- wait… Mom.. what the hell did you show her that for?" he said, stifling a laugh.

"You were so dorky." Pam giggled.

"Thank you." he replied with amusement, raising an eyebrow to his mother who simply shrugged nonchalantly.

"I remembered that you wanted to see a photo of Jim as a child. He was about eight or nine there… wearing his little church suit." Betsy smiled.

"It's really cute. Thank you."

"Of course, if he looks a little upset in the photo, it's because the boys had stolen his batman action figure that day and thrown it into the holy water font. He was inconsolable. You used to carry that little batman with you everywhere didn't you?"

Jim threw his hands up good-naturedly, going slightly red. "Okay Mom, you made her laugh. Wanna go now?" he motioned Pam to towards the parking area.

"Of course. It was lovely seeing you again. I'll see you tomorrow." Betsy opened her arms up, moving towards Pam. Hugging the woman gratefully, she thanked her again before stepping back.

…..

"Batman, huh?" Pam said once they were home.

Jim groaned. "I'm officially denying that ever happened."

"That's your story?" she smirked.

"That's my story. I've never even heard of this batman before." he said, gliding off into the kitchen.

Pam followed him in cautiously, watching as he moved around, plucking mugs out of the cupboard. She waited until he had set the cups down and then without saying a word, pressed herself against him, hugging him gently. She felt hollowed out, emptied. She refused to think about the day they had had – tomorrow it would only be worse. She wasn't going to think about it until she had to.

"Last night was amazing." she told him quietly, content to hang on to the moment between them.

"Yup." he said, kissing her forehead.

"Love you." she said, kissing his cheek in return before she moved out of the embrace and made her way upstairs without another word.

After around half an hour had passed, when she still had not returned Jim followed her earlier retreat upstairs to check on her. What he saw when he pushed open the bedroom door brought a soft grin to his face.

There she was, curled up in, so small and childlike on his side of the bed. In her hand she clutched the photo that Betsy had given her. He stood, watching her sleep for a few moments before his own consciousness began to ebb away and he found himself stifling a powerful yawn. Stripping his clothes off, he moved around the bed, crawling in on the other side of her. Carefully he extracted the comforter from underneath her and lay down beside her, pulling the cover over them both. Almost immediately he felt her shuffle towards him, pressing herself against his side. As the heavy darkness of sleep began to overtake him, he slid the photo from Pam's grasp, studying it. She was right, it was dorky. But it had made her happy, and that was the important thing. Carefully he slipped the photo under her pillow, moving reverently, as though the laughter she had found in the old image could rise up into the sleeping woman's dreams, warding off any nightmare that might dare to come her way.