He was sure he had heard wrong.

She was perched on the edge of the couch, shivering, despite the warm woolen blanket he had retrieved from his car to wrap securely around her. She hadn't said a word since he had taken her back into the house, arm around her waist and led her to her seat. Pam had cried long and hard, great heaving sobs wracking her body as he held her against his chest. When she had finally raised her head and her tears appearing to be slowing, Jim had fetched the blanket and a glass of water.

They had sat in silence, Pam's short, shaky breaths punctuating the quiet between them. Jim was softly rubbing her back, wanting to let her speak first. What he hadn't anticipated, was that the first thing out of her mouth would be an apology.

Jim looked at her with genuine surprise. "What are you sorry for?" he asked, speaking quietly.

"Just..for this." She sniffed, huddling into herself like a frightened rabbit, her eyes unfocused and blank.

"You don't have anything to apologise for." Jim told her firmly, keeping his tone patient. He gently lifted his hand and smoothed her damp curls away from her forehead, not missing her subtly flinch at the contact. He hesitated a moment. "Did he hurt you?" he said, looking at her kindly.

"Roy doesn't hurt me," she spoke automatically.

Jim bit his lower lip. "He gets mad though, right?"

Pam paused, then nodded slowly. It was a start, he thought. He couldn't keep his eyes from looking at her face, her skin drawn and stretched over her cheekbones, her nose red, stray teardrops caught in her eyelashes.

"What are you afraid of, Pam?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I'm not." She lapsed into silence again, blankly looking down at her hands.

"You're not happy." he replied. Pam looked up at him, her expression pained. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"It's okay." she whispered. "It's…" she lost the words and dropped her head despondently. Jim couldn't bear seeing her so lifeless the way she was. He was beginning to realize how desperate the situation actually was – not just that she was being abused – not only that she was denying it with her life, literally, but seeing her now looking like a tiny doll who's lost all of her stuffing; he seriously considered the real possibility she might not make it out of this at all if she wasn't able to seek help.

"Let me tell you what I'm afraid of." he said calmly. "Okay?" Seeing no reaction, he ventured ahead.

"I have a horrible certainty that my best friend is in a dangerous place. I'm afraid for her safety. I'm not sure she's ready to accept her situation; and that scares me, as I don't think I could live with myself if something happened to her and I couldn't help her." he said, honestly. "I'm afraid that she thinks this is all her fault, when it couldn't possibly be." Jim heard a sniffle, and then Pam was burying her face in hands.

"And," he continued, looking directly at her. "I'm terrified that she will get hurt and it will be too late."

Pam mumbled something from behind her hands.

Jim frowned. "What, Pam?"

"What if she did try to get out?" she asked in a small voice, putting her hands down. Calmer now, she looked briefly over at him. "What if she did, but he found her and brought her back?"

There was an agonizing silence for a moment. "That doesn't mean she failed, or did anything wrong," Jim told her kindly. "My best friend, she has such a big heart. She doesn't want to hurt anyone. What if she put herself first, for once? Perhaps she trusts someone, maybe her best friend, to help her get out this time. Maybe I should tell her that she isn't as alone as she feels."

Pam raised her head hesitantly. He could tell that she desperately wanted to talk but something was still holding her back. Wanting to make her feel secure as possible, he tilted his head and smiled a little, trying to validate how she was feeling. "Feels pretty shit doesn't it?" he said.

She nodded. "Pretty shit."

"I could call your Mom?" he offered, but she shook her head fiercely. "No?"

"No."

Jim looked thoughtful. "Okay, we won't do that then."

"My Mom… I haven't spoken to her in a while. This would kill her. It would be like it was happening to her." Pam rubbed her face. Jim handed her another tissue from the box beside them. She accepted it gratefully and dabbed at her eyes.

"It's… Roy… he doesn't mean to get so angry," she said. "But Jim, what he's been through… his Mom and Dad… It will kill him if I hurt him too."

"I'm afraid it might kill you if you don't."

She looked at him, eyes wide. "Roy is, well, sensitive and he's hurting. And yes, he gets angry at times."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Angry?"

"I do things sometimes without thinking. I don't always try hard enough. I know how he is." She was gazing at the floor again, hands twisting tightly together.

"So you deserve to be beaten?" he said gently. She blinked rapidly. "Because Roy was hurt by someone else, and because you annoy him sometimes?"

"It's not like that."

"It's exactly like that." he said. They both fell silent again. Jim offered to make her a coffee, she declined, settling for another glass of water. Jim came back handing her the water and some aspirin he'd found in the kitchen. She accepted both with brief thanks.

"You know," he said as he sat down next to her and adjusted the blanket around her shoulders. "My best friend, she is such a bright, warm person – she has a great sense of humor too." he nudged her playfully. "One day I noticed she wasn't smiling anymore. She always seemed like she was somewhere else. She used to enter all these art competitions and she's really talented but I haven't seen her interested in any artwork lately. It makes me sad, because I know her life can be better, that she doesn't have to live this way, thinking – very mistakenly – that she is worth nothing or that she deserves to be treated as a punchball. She is worth so much more than that."

Tears dripped down her face again at his words. It had been so long since she'd felt genuine kindness like that directed at her from anyone. Jim leaned over and draped an arm around her, patting her shoulder comfortingly.

"I'm so empty," she cried, leaning into his chest. "So numb. But I feel everything at the same time. I don't know what to do anymore. I can't hurt Roy. He needs me."

"Pam," he sighed. "Listen to me. Roy is an anchor. He will take you down with him. You don't have to live in fear of him." She lay quietly against him, her breathing shaky and uneven, emotionally wrung out. "I could go to Toby with you – there are procedures they can help you with to keep you safe. I could help you go to a shelter, a hotel, the police – I know you don't want to think about it – your parents – you can stay in Marks old bedroom at my place, even. You have options."

Jim took her non response as a positive sign. She wasn't objecting or disagreeing. More and more he wanted to just go smash Roy's face in and then kick the crap out of the rest of him. Last night, Jim had driven by here, debating on knocking on the door. The place had been deathly quiet and lights were off except a small light coming from the front room downstairs. Then, he'd gone home and called the NDV number he'd gotten online. He'd come prepared for this, Pam's safety and happiness was too important to him to go in half assed and make things worse.

"Roy's not home until after work tonight, right?" he continued. "What if, just if... think about this as an idea. You go away temporarily – to your parents, a friends, even your sister – and see how you feel then, if you want to come back to Roy or not. Or even," he said, not wanting to push her too hard on it. "You could stay, as I said, at my place and we won't say that's where you are. You'll be safe. That's a promise."

Pam pulled out of his hold and leaned back, looking him in the eye tiredly. She was in no real condition to argue anything, although her eyes were wide and pleading. "What if… you're not?" she mumbled, swallowing hard.

"Not what?"

"Safe." she whispered. "If… if… I'm being hurt… then no one else is."

Jim's heart broke at that. He looked back at her with such a look of pity and sympathy Pam was nearly brought back to tears. "This is about keeping you safe now, Pam." He said firmly. "Will you think about it?"

She sighed heavily. "I'm tired, Jim. I'm just so tired. I don't want to fight anymore. Most days I get up and everything is just dark and empty and I can't see anything through it. It feels like I'll never feel any better than this, things will never get better. " She dropped her eyes. "I'm scared I'll always feel like this, without hope."

Jim grasped her chin softly and lifted her head up.

"Hey. There's always hope. If you'll let me, I can and will help." He meant every word.

She nodded weakly.

"And, if you doubt yourself at any time, doubt getting yourself help – I want you to think about what you just told me, how you feel. Because things will get better. Think about how you felt whenever things got the worst and how you can move away from it. You have every right to be happy." He rubbed her arm reassuringly.

She looked up at him still. "When things got the worst," she whispered quietly. He lifted her hair away from her face, seeing a new determined look harden in her eyes. She reached for Jim's hand.

"I prayed he would stop. I prayed for him to stop."