Pam Beesly had never been the type of woman who would take a stand on anything.

Typically described as mousy by most people who knew her, it might not be seen as a large surprise that she would tolerate so much abuse in her life without complaint. She was a woman who put up with things. She had the tedious job she considered temporary despite having done it for years without question or other prospects. She had the long engagement. She had Roy.

She had her life, the way it was, and she hadn't expected it to change. Pam was not about change. She couldn't begin to know exactly how to go after anything she wanted; on those rare occasions that she admitted there was something she wanted she would let it go by her without much more than a glance behind her.

She had options.

That was what Jim had told her. She rested her hot forehead against the cool porcelain of the bathtub, feeling a slight relief. She had options. She could leave. Somehow Jim had made it feel a real possibility. But her heart reminded her that Jim was a great salesman, he could sell wings to an angel if he wanted to.

But Jim didn't know Roy. Not really. He'd not seen the hulking, rage-fueled explosive that was Roy when he felt he'd been lied to or betrayed, or sometimes even just slighted. He hadn't seen Roy put his fist clear through a kitchen cupboard door, or seen his face contort into a terrifying living fury, burning wild and taking out everything in its path.

Jim wasn't there the night of Michael's birthday. He hadn't witnessed Roy's two angry hands, clutching savagely at her throat. Jim did not know what he was dealing with.

Jim couldn't know what it felt like to be threatened in that way.

But he was here. And he wanted to help, genuinely. She retched, and leaned over the toilet again. Her empty stomach heaved and throbbed. Jim was downstairs, waiting for her to finish fetching up anything left inside of her. Jim was expecting her to leave. Leave Roy.

He was standing in by the window, next to the purple orchids Roy had bought yesterday, when she arrived back in the lounge. Her face was blotchy and drawn. Jim turned and asked her how she was feeling.

She shrugged a little. "My eyes hurt." She said tiredly. Jim walked over to her and put a comforting hand on on her shoulder, frowning when she winced at the contact.

"Pam, please think about this." he knew it was wrong to push her, to make her feel he was trying to force her into making a decision. The advisor on the domestic abuse line had been very clear on this point; it was her decision. To stay or go must be decided when Pam is ready to. That was hard for him to understand.

He didn't want to cause Pam any harm at all, but he didn't want to see her harmed either. He was getting desperate, he had to get her out of this house before she really got hurt, physically or traumatically.

"You should go." she said offhandedly, her arms crossed over her stomach. Jim raised an eyebrow at her. "I mean… this isn't your problem." She shrugged.

"Too bad, Beesly. I'm involved now. And," he glared. "You are not a 'problem.'" he said.

She gazed at him tiredly and slowly sat down on the couch. Jim strode over and kneeled down in front of her.

"I'm sorry, Pam. I am. But I think you're wrong. You came to the door earlier and you were pretty desperate. You were scared, sobbing and you told me after that you were being hurt by Roy. You wanted help then. What changed?"

No answer.

"Do you agree that this is a dangerous situation?" Jim was losing patience and trying hard to keep his frustration out of his voice. He didn't want to scare her any further, or break the very thin thread of trust he had managed to forge with her.

Slowly, she nodded her head, looking down at her hands.

"It's alright," he soothed. "We can talk to the police about a restraining order or-" he broke off as the door opened in the hallway behind him.

Roy strode into the room. "What the hell is this?" he cried out in annoyance. He glared between the two of them. Pam visibly shrunk back in her seat. Jim stood up tall and stared defiantly back at Roy.

"This," he said fiercely. "This is your-"

"Jim." Pam said quietly. She was now standing behind him, eerily calm. She turned to Roy. "Jim came to see how I was, now he's leaving."

"Are you kidding me?" Jim groaned.

Roy strode over and roughly seized Pam by the arm. "You're not well. Go lie down. I'll see Halpert out."

His tone was strict and authoritative. She stood still between the two men, frozen in hesitation. Sensing the atmosphere, and seeing that neither Jim or Pam were making any effort to move, Roy's indignation grew.

"What's been going on here?" he snapped out. He leaned down to Pam, putting his face close enough to hers that their noses were almost touching.

"You," he growled. "You got something you wanna tell me?" he said, motioning angrily to Jim. Pam recoiled a little, as Roy towered over her. "You think I'm an idiot? You been laughing behind my back the two of you? I knew there was something going on!"

"There's nothing going on Roy!" Pam pleaded, shooting Jim a desperate look. "Jim, please go back to work. We'll talk tomorrow."

Roy's hostile eyes burned into her, his grip on her arm tightened painfully. Without turning round he spoke tersely at Jim. "Go on Halpert. The two of you are done." Pam leaned her shoulders backwards away from the enraged man's face. "Go Halpert. I mean it. Get out of here." his eyes locked on her.

"Roy." Jim said, a cool warning in his voice.

"You bring him here, to our home?" Roy persisted, voice raising. "Look at me!" he spat, shaking her arm roughly.

"Roy, I-"

The next thing she knew, she was falling into the couch, her neck snapping back against the backrest.

Hot anger boiled up in Jim. Roy, who had nearly a foot on Pam, and at least 80 pounds advantage, had towered threateningly over her. In that moment, that was what angered Jim the most – more so than the shove he had just witnessed. He saw it, Roy, shadowing over her, smaller, weaker, knowing she won't stand up to him, Roy standing there like some high school bully, Pam appearing smaller than ever saying nothing, doing nothing. Just accepting it.

Jim stalked up to Roy.

"Jim, please. Roy!" Pam begged, terrified.

"You know, Halpert," Roy said furiously. "People think you're into meat, but I knew you had it out for her. Well guess what, finally the joke is on you, funnyman. The joke is on you. You thought you were getting a real prime rib. Now you know. She's a cheap lay, and not much else."

Pam squeezed her eyes shut, frightened and humiliated. A loud thump followed by a soft flopping sound startled her already hyper anxious body and she jumped violently. She looked down, blinking hard, to see Roy, rubbing his jaw, half sitting, half lying on the floor.

Jim stood, feeling rather satisfied, noting Pam hadn't immediately rushed to Roy's side.

He couldn't swear to it but he was sure he saw, or a fleeting moment, a hint of satisfaction on her face too.