A/N: Well, I plugged this story in my other story, and the only review I got was one saying "I already read Shattered Everythings and I love it!" so I thought maybe it might be best if I plugged Diary of A Broken Heart in here. So if you have a chance, read it. Not very angsty, but still, good.

Hope you guys like this chapter. Came to me when watching Love Actually. Review Review! Still have no idea where I'm going with this?


Pam sat at reception, staring at her computer screen. It was two hours, 47 minutes, 43 free cell games and zero phone calls since she'd come into work that morning. The day had been slow and boring. She'd managed to get one fax out, but other than that and brewing a new cup of coffee, her work that morning had consisted of absentmindedly clicking, picking up and discarding cards all morning. She'd gotten sick of the repetitiveness; all she could think to do now was think about the past twenty-four hours.

She couldn't believe she'd told Jim everything she had about her life. She'd never told anyone about her father before, other than Roy, of course. It was unchartered territory—open only to her worst nightmares. It had taken her four years to even begin to tell Roy, even though they'd been dating and intimate the entire time before that. And then she'd told Jim. She'd just opened her mouth and blurted it out without even thinking about it. Granted, they'd been friends for years. Good friends. Best friends… But not the type of friends that went back to the troubles and abuses of childhood. Until now.

She'd been surprised at how he'd reacted. When she'd told Roy years ago, she hadn't even gotten the entire thing out—he'd jumped up, fists clenched, face red, mat at her for not realizing the lies her father had told her. After his reaction, she'd stopped the story, protecting herself from the further heartbreak of being ridiculed and made to be stupid. She was scared his anger would increase to such a level she wouldn't know what to do. So she'd stopped her story before she even got halfway through it and braced herself for the fact that she'd never be rid of the god awful secret she and her family had carried for so long.

But he, he'd been different. He hadn't been angry at her for believing her father's lies, he'd only been angry at her father for feeding her the lies that had ripped her apart. He hadn't been furious enough with her to stand up with his fists clenched, yelling at her about how stupid she was. How awful the situation was because of her.

He'd been different.

He'd held her; he'd cried with her; he'd listened to her, let her get it all out. Let her cry—even when it wasn't appropriate. He'd been there for her, without pitying her or making her feel stupid for believing him. He'd reassured her. He'd reached down to the deepest, darkest parts of her heart and begun to mend those, rather than just trying to patch up the surface.

She thought about how his arms had wrapped around her. How they'd held her so close. She'd felt so safe wrapped up in those arms. She'd felt as if nothing would ever hurt her again. She knew it wasn't true. She knew eventually, something would happen that would shake her to her core. It was inevitable; it happened to everything. But lying in Jim's arms she knew that no matter what life threw at her, she'd make it through. She'd be okay. She might be scarred, but she'd live. And when she got over whatever it was that hurt her, she'd live brilliantly, superbly. In a way she'd not yet lived, but was slowly making steps toward. It was with this thought that she rested her head on his chest and drifted to sleep, dreaming of him.

She'd woken up the next morning, quilt wrapped around her, a pillow where his chest had been, feeling awfully cold. He was hovering over her in his work clothes, smiling at her. She felt heat on her face from where his smile had radiated down upon her, and she smiled before opening her eyes. He smiled back at her and had whispered softly that it was time to get ready for work before disappearing into the kitchen. She'd hurried upstairs, hopping in the shower and letting the water trickle down her body, taking in the amazing feeling of a hot shower. When she'd gotten out, she'd wrapped Jim's robe around her body, smiling to herself at how good it felt to be so close to him. To have his smell engulfing her body the way it did.

She opened the door to let the steam out of the small bathroom, it was already choking her slightly, and turned to the mirror, wiping the fog off of it to stare at herself as she got ready for work. She hadn't looked in the mirror since Jim had made her the first day she'd been there and she couldn't believe that all of the work she'd put into making her face look presentable had barely paid off. She touched her face slowly, as if part of a movie when someone doesn't realize or believe it's really her face. There was still a large cut across her forehead, leading down to her cheek, cutting off only at her eye. She'd remembered hearing something in her anatomy class in high school about how the bones surrounding your eye stick out farther than the rest of your face in order to keep your eyes from popping out or being injured if something gets in the way. She was thankful for that now.

The entire right side of her face was puffy, swollen and blue. She could feel the tears form in her eyes as she saw it, knowing it had improved drastically, but not enough. She was going to have to go to work today with a face that looked like it'd been run over by a John Deere. She was going to have to face Roy with this face. This face that made her feel so hideously ugly. She felt Jim's presence and saw him leaning against the door out of the corner of her eye.

"You're beautiful," he'd said decidedly, as if he didn't want her to even think she wasn't. Her heart dropped into her stomach, pushing it out of her body. She could hardly breathe. It stung to know that he was lying to her. She was standing there, staring herself in the face knowing he'd just lied to her. Wondering what else he'd lied to her about. He knew she wasn't beautiful. Pretty, maybe, on a good day… But beautiful? Never, and definitely not today. Definitely not when she looked like this. Not with this face on. She turned and glared at him, but he kept his stance.

He kept looking at her. No, looking in her. Looking in her eyes. Looking in her soul. She could feel the walls she'd built around her heart breaking; she could feel the ice that surrounded her heart slowly melting under his gaze. She tried to keep her composure. She tried to keep staring at him with her stone cold expression, but she couldn't. She quickly looked back to the mirror, trying to hide the small sliver of a smile that was threatening to fully invade her face. She sighed and turned back at him, "What am I going to do about this?" He shrugged, pointing at her makeup. She sighed and looked at him, and they both knew it wouldn't help. Not enough to completely hide her face, or even to partially hide her face. "Maybe I just shouldn't go…" her voice trailed off.

He cut her off, "No. You have to go," he said softly. She looked up at him, surprised he was so adamant about this. "Listen, I'm really proud of you." He stopped there and stared at her for a moment, so long that it was almost awkward and embarrassing, but she got the picture. She understood what he meant. "You need to go. You need to face this," he said softly, and then he turned and left the room before she could argue.

She'd stood there for twenty minutes before she'd actually started her makeup, and then it had taken her another twenty minutes to finish it. By that time it was almost twenty minutes until she had to be at work—she knew it was a long shot. She walked down stairs and saw a plate of French toast, fresh strawberries, bacon, and a glass of milk waiting for her in her seat. She chuckled at the thought of having a seat at Jim's table, secretly delighted by it.

And that's when it dawned on her. Where was Jim? She hadn't heard anything for twenty minutes. Her heart started racing; her palms were sweaty. Had he left her? Had he really done that? Left her all alone after she'd opened herself up to him. After she'd trusted him and told him everything… Had he really just left her? Tears were forming in her eyes as she looked down and noticed her napkin had writing on it. She smiled slightly, feeling strangely stupid. Of course he wouldn't just leave her. He was Jim. Jim. Not Roy. She read the note fast, picking up on the minor details. He'd had to run out; he'd be back soon to pick her up. She smiled and ate her breakfast, waiting. When he'd finally come back ten minutes later, he'd looked winded. She hadn't asked him where he'd gone, and he hadn't told her. They just both figured it wasn't that important.

The ride had been nearly silent. She'd been lost in her thoughts of what people would think. She wasn't sure what he was lost in, she just knew he hadn't mentioned a word. It hadn't been a completely uncomfortable silence—at least between the two of them. When they pulled into the parking lot, she stayed seated. Jim did too, as if he knew what her next move was going to be. Or wasn't going to be. He reached over and patted her knee lightly, and she felt a rush of adrenaline surge through her body. She'd never felt a rush like that one. It was enough to propel her out of the car and into the parking lot. It might have even been enough to propel her inside of the building, but she wouldn't know because at that moment, Jim leaned in and kissed her softly. Their lips met and she'd never felt more wanted, more loved, or more beautiful. She smiled and they walked into the office, ready to deal with what today would bring.

Everyone had treated her pleasantly when she'd walked in the office. Michael hadn't even made any jokes or inappropriate comments. He'd simply said a 'good morning, I've missed you' and went on his way. Dwight didn't pay any attention at all, and the others just treated her as they had any other day. It secretly relieved her they hadn't brought her the attention her face obviously commanded. She didn't want anymore attention than she'd already gotten.

And that was when it happened. At 11:47, the phone rang for the first time all day. Her palms were sweaty, the blood was rushing straight from her face. She could feel her throat closing up. She hadn't spoken to anyone but Jim. She'd been silent all day. She wasn't sure if she could do it with anyone else. She looked up at Jim and he was looking at her, silently willing her to pick up the phone. She saw him watching her, and when a few seconds had passed with no movement from her, he got up slowly, walked over to the desk and picked up the phone, placing it against her ear.

"Dunder-Mifflin, this is Pam," she said, her voice coming out automatically. She looked up at him, surprised, elate, thankful for all he'd done to help her through this entire ordeal. He smiled down at her and she broke his gaze, turning back to the phone to forward Jan's call to Michael. She smiled at him after hanging up and whispered a soft thank you.

After a few more hours and a lunch at Alfredo's, Pam could feel herself dwindling down. It was nearly four o'clock, the dreaded hour that made the entire world move too slow for words. For some reason, the hour seemed to have more than sixty minutes in it. She'd just opened an email to Jim about their plans for the night when the doors opened to her left. Her body froze. She couldn't see who it was. She hadn't needed to turn around. She just knew it was him. She kept her eyes on Jim, and like clockwork, he looked up at her, caught her eye silently. He made his way over to her, the same speed as Roy made his way over to her.

Roy leaned down and whispered to Pam, just as Jim took a jellybean from the jar. "Can I talk to you? Alone?" She studied his face. It was swollen and black. His eye was especially black. She smiled inside, knowing Jim had done this to him. For some reason, it made her proud to know that Jim had loved her enough to beat the shit out of Roy. Although, she wasn't going to lie, it made her happy just to see him beat up, regardless of how it happened.

She opened her mouth to respond but she heard Jim first. "Alone at the reception desk, sure. But remember where you got that black eye." He turned and left and Pam watched him, the smile of champions threatening to cover her face. She looked up at him, aware that Jim was watching out of the corner of his eye, and quite possibly Michael and Angela as well. They always did.

Roy watched Jim all the way back to his seat, and then leaned forward and scowled, "Can you believe him? It's none of his business. Let's go." He grabbed her arm and she looked at him, pulling her arm back hard at the same moment she heard Jim cough loudly. He stared at her as if he didn't understand why she'd pull away from him… Or how she even could.

"Right here is fine." She smiled at him sweetly.

"I just…" he sighed, running his fingers through his oily hair. "Are you okay?"

She stared at him, unbelieving that he'd actually just asked her that. She didn't know how to respond. She knew what he was getting at. She wasn't going to give it to him. She glanced down at her computer, seeing a new email from Dwight. She clicked on it, opening it, and seemingly absentmindedly responded, "none of your business."

She could see his teeth grinding against each other and his fingers curling in. How dare she talk back to him. He opened his mouth to say something but she looked up at him, giving him her full attention, and sweetly asked, "Was that all, Mr. Anderson?" She'd done it. She'd given him that final notice. Told him it was over. And he knew it. She could tell by his face he knew it. He grabbed her arm and yanked her up, and she could feel Jim's gaze following her. Roy muttered something under his breath. Something about her not saying 'no' to him, especially not in public.

She felt him lift her slightly in the air and she lifted her foot up and kicked him, hard in the balls, glad she'd seen Miss Congeniality a few years ago with her little sister. She heard Michael's door open and she turned to see him, realizing that everyone knew about Roy. Her wedding. The abuse.

Michael stared at Roy for a moment, then up at Pam, and over at Jim. Finally, he cleared his throat, turning to Jim. "Jim, why don't you uh.. Take Pam home. I've got some paperwork to fill out for Roy." Pam could feel her heart growing for Michael. He really was okay. He wasn't a completely perverted asshole like she'd thought all these years. There was some decency to him. Jim nodded and picked up his bag, walked over to reception and picked up hers, and put his hand out to lead her home.


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