There are two things I would like to apologize for. 1. The fact that this update is extremely late. I have excuses, just none you guys would care to hear. What can I say? School starts in three weeks. 2. The fact that I had a truly horrendous update up. I think it was up for maybe six hours, at the most. But then I deleted it because it was bad on so many levels. I reread it and it didn't even sound like me. Sorry if you read that. I should pay everyone who actually got through that. It was total crap. Ew. Okay, so here is the next installment, hopefully better than the last attempt.

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He had called her mother. He had called every motel in the fine state of Pennsylvania. He had impersonated an officer so that he could get information on tenants. He had even considered calling Roy.

But judging by Roy's attempt to burrow through Jim's face with his fist, Roy's only lead was Jim.

And Jim had no idea.

His hands had shaken the first hour he had been on the road. He had held tighter to the wheel and turned up the radio, trying to wipe all thoughts from his mind. He still couldn't help the occasional image of her that drifted in front of his drooping eyes.

Her laughing. Her in his too big t-shirt. Her crying into her hands. The bruises that spread across her body like a disease.

He had no idea how long he had been driving. All he knew was that his knees ached, his wrists were cramped, and he had a massive headache from the morons at the motels he had been on the phone with all day.

"Yes, we have a young lady here that fits your description." One motel owner had said. Jim's chest had expanded with hope.

"Her name is Jessica Lambert." And just as quickly, the hope had crashed down into bitter disappointment.

Road signs passed in a blur and the bright daylight soon turned into a purple twilight. Jim yawned and pulled over to the side of the road where an abandoned church sat, old and deteriorating. He pulled into the parking lot, swerving around the piles of leaves that had collected over the months of neglect. The corner was dark and shielded as he pulled into the small space and hid most of his car from the road.

He pulled out his cell phone and held it to his ear, dialing the number his fingers had memorized hours ago. There was a buzz and then her voice causing his stomach to flop. It was the fifty-second time that day he had gotten her voice mail.

And it was the fiftieth time he had left a desperate message, his voice cracking.

"Pam, please. Call me. I don't know where you are. I just need to know you are alright."

Earlier in the day he had been so intent on ignoring his feelings and going back to normal. He had been intent on cutting her out of his life completely.

And now he was driving all over the state trying to find her when she didn't want to be found.

He pulled the keys out of the ignition and sat uselessly in the car, staring at the birds sitting atop the old church. There was one at the edge of the roof, off to itself, that the others would fly over and peck at. The bird would do nothing until finally, after several offending gestures by the other creatures, it turned, let out a squawk, and flew to another tree, higher up than the others.

Jim followed it carefully with his sleep-ridden eyes and suppressed a grin. The bird possessed some sort of symbolism to his current situation, he just couldn't place it.

Figures.

He put the keys back in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot, feeling slightly more awake after the minimal rest. The road was empty with only a few buildings dotted along the road. He passed several motels and habitually checked their parking lots for the familiar truck.

The third one he passed, he saw it.

He slammed on his brakes.

He heard vaguely heard the squeal of tires and a horn honking behind him. He pulled into the parking lot and stumbled out of his car and into the check in office. The elderly man looked up with startled eyes as the bell almost jingled right off the hook.

He took one look at Jim's state and narrowed his eyes behind his over sized lenses. "Sorry young man, we don't allow those who do drugs to conduct their business in our establishment."

Jim could have laughed but he figured that wouldn't help his situation. He instead rubbed his bloodshot eyes and straightened his spine, adopting a more professional posture. He cleared his throat.

"I don't do drugs. I promise you that. I am actually looking for someone-"

The man didn't look convinced. Jim took a step towards the desk.

"Please, she might be hurt. I don't know what her current condition is. It's just-"

He was getting nowhere with this old man. He began to gesture with his hands. "It's just she is my best friend and she is engaged to this total jerk who I just found out was abusing her. And I have been in love with her for as long as I can remember and when she showed up at my door, crying and broken, I took her in and I thought I could keep my feelings in check. I thought I would be able to help her. Save her, you know? But then I went and did something incredibly stupid. I kissed her and that day she went back to that son of a bitch who beat on her. Why, I don't know. But I came into work today-" He paused. "Oh yeah, I didn't tell you, I work with her. I came into work today and I told myself that I wouldn't care. That I would just block everything out. Not a good plan, but a plan nonetheless. Anyway, I walk in and she's not there. But her fiancée shows up and punches me in the face and asks me where she is. And I don't know. So now I am looking for her and I have been driving for hours. And I had to stop at some old church to rest because I haven't been able to stop my hands from shaking and I drove by here and I saw a truck. Her truck. So I stopped and please, if she is here, please, please, just tell me."

The man looked at Jim with wide eyes and mouth agape. If he wasn't convinced Jim was on drugs before, he was one hundred percent sure now.

But there was something in the young mans face, the complete and total desperation. The look in his eyes when he said he had ruined everything. The pure anger when he brought up the girl's fiancée.

There was something there that caused the man to say, "The second door to your right."

Jim could have fainted with relief. He gave the man an incoherent thank you and smiled slightly.

He shuffled down the hallway and knocked carefully on the appropriate door. When no one answered, he knocked again, slightly more assertive. He heard shuffling and soon the door swung open, revealing Pam.

Her hair was mussed up and her eyes held bags and when she saw who was at her doorstep, her eyes widened and she took a step back.

She then relaxed and gave him a defeated look, her bottom lip quivering. He felt his heart break.

"How can you always find me?" Her voice was tired and strained. "How can you always do that?"

He took the step forward that separated them and wrapped his arms around her tightly. She relaxed in them and clutched back, craving the warmth of comfort to battle the biting coldness of fear and guilt.

He held her tight in the open doorway, running his hand through her hair, getting out the knots and smoothing down the wild curls.

"Why am I so stupid?" She asked into his chest. He didn't answer. He couldn't.

He kissed the crown of her head and pulled away. She looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. He took her hands in his, looking down at them. His were large and encircled her small pale ones. He felt like he was holding the hands of a small porcelain doll that might break if too much pressure was administered.

"You're freezing." He whispered carefully. He looked up to meet her eyes again. Hers darted away to a spot somewhere behind his head. He dropped her left hand and took her right, leading her over to the bed.

She crawled in without question and he tucked her in carefully. He was about to lie down on the floor when she tugged on his hand hesitantly. She scooted over in bed, making room for him.

"Pam-"

"Jim, please, just-"

"I can't."

She drops her hand from his, the coldness of rejection biting at her. But she understands, somehow. He turns his head away and looks down at the carpet, his hands balancing carefully in his lap.

"I'm sorry." She whispers through the quiet room. "I'm sorry I keep making you have to save me. I'm sorry I cant save myself." She is blinking back tears now but he is still staring at the carpet, shoulders tense. "I'm sorry that you love me. I'm such a horrible person to love."

He looks up at this and she can just vaguely make out his outline in the dark room. She feels his warm hands on hers again. "I'm not. Pam, I'm not sorry I love you."

She sniffles and wipes her eyes with her free hand. "Jim. I can't. I do but I can't, not yet. It is going to take-"

He nods and turns away again. "I understand. I can wait."

And even though his voice is somewhat diminished and he isn't looking at her, his hand is warm on hers. And she feels safe. And the coldness is starting to subside from her body.

He barely hears, as she is drifting off to sleep, both of her small hands clutching his tightly, her as she says, "I'm going to get better now."

And even though they are in a cruddy hotel room and her body is bruised and broken, she is holding his hand. And she isn't so cold any more. And he finally feels that part of his heart that he hasn't felt in days.

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