I don't own the Office or any of its characters.

Warning: mentions of sexual assault, assault and battery, physical and verbal abuse

If I had to choose any three people to spend an evening with, it would be Jim and my parents.

Some may say this is sad, but I've never professed to be an extrovert. I am a homebody and an introvert to the core, so I'm most happy with the people I'm most comfortable with. My parents and the love of my life happen to be those people

I love bringing Jim with me to visit my parents. They get along so well with him, likely because his sense of humor is similar to mine so they're used to it, and also because he's such a fun, charismatic person who gets along with just about everybody. He's a total charmer too. After Roy, who never really tried at all, I know my parents love Jim.

That being said, the four of us have never dealt with so heavy an issue as we need to tonight. Usually we're just laughing and joking around, having a good time, which is great. We're halfway through dinner before my dad finally brings up the elephant in the room.

"So tell your mom and I again how you got this black eye, sweetheart?" he asks abruptly, right after he and Jim have finished laughing about some sort of joke to do with computers. My mom and I had been chatting about a quilt she's making, so Jim and my dad decided to bore us in return.

Instantly the room is deathly quiet. I swallow my bite of pizza with a click of my throat that seems to echo and don't even realize I've reached for Jim's hand until he's gently squeezing my fingers. "Well, we were playing volleyball yesterday with Jim's old roommate and some of his friends, and the volleyball hit me in the face."

"And how did the subject of…the previous incident come up?" he presses, his expression serious but gentle as he sits across from me and holds my mom's hand next to him.

I take a deep breath and remind myself that I am surrounded by people who love me and who want to get past this just as much as I do. "I was about to put concealer on it this morning before we went to work and Jim said that people were going to think he hit me, and I made a stupid joke and said it wasn't like I'd never covered up a black eye before."

My parents both nod slowly, their expressions serious and sad. My mom's eyes are shiny and I take her other hand with my free one. "I know you both had…a lot to deal with when it happened," I continue, "and Jim feels the same way. You all love me and hate that this happened, just as I do. And I think you both still blame yourselves for not seeing what was going on, when really it was my decision all along."

My dad looks like he's about to protest but I shake my head. "It wasn't up to any of you," I say forcefully. "I was twenty-eight years old, completely responsible for my own life choices. I knew the relationship I was in wasn't healthy. I knew I didn't deserve to be treated that way. But I let my fears and my doubts control me for a long time. I was too stubborn to move on, too embarrassed. My biggest regret in all of this would be that any of you feel justified in blaming yourselves, because I don't feel that way at all."

"Do you blame yourself though, sweetheart?" my mom asks, her expression heartbroken.

I think about this for a moment. "Yes and no," I reply finally. "I used to blame myself for Roy's actions. I hadn't done something right, so it was my fault he was angry and bruised my arm. That's what he told me, and for a long time I believed him."

I cast a glance at Jim and he looks sick. I squeeze his hand, waiting for him to meet my eyes before continuing with a tiny, reassuring smile.

"But I see now how wrong that line of thinking was. Roy was wholly responsible for all of his actions. I didn't deserve any of his hurtful words, or the bruises, or the ill treatment. I deserve more than that just as a person. The only thing I hold myself at fault for was not leaving when I knew how wrong our relationship was."

We're all quiet for a moment as they process these words. Finally Jim nods slowly. "I have to say that I agree with you," he says at last, casting an anxious glance at my dad like he's worried he'll be angry. "Of course none of what Roy did to you was your fault. But ultimately you were responsible for your decision to stay." He chews on his lip, his expression one of deep thought, before speaking again. "But I will say that you saying all that doesn't make me feel absolved of blame. Because what if I'd said something about my concerns, or pointed out that the way Roy treated you wasn't right, and that was what it took for you to have that courage to leave? If I'd just been…honest with you about what I was seeing, or maybe just opened my eyes…"

I want to protest, to fight him on this, but my dad places a gentle hand on Jim's shoulder and nods to the back door. "Jim, have I ever showed you my shop out back?"

Jim takes the extremely unsubtle hint and stands. "I'd love to see it, Paul." He smiles at me and squeezes my hand before releasing it and following my father outside.

I let out a weary sigh and turn to my mom, opening my mouth to speak when she interrupts me. "Cookies?"

"Sure." I clear the table, piling the dishes in the sink as she begins to gather the ingredients. My mom's expression is pensive and thoughtful and I wait for her to speak.

"Sweetheart," she finally begins, pouring cups of flour and sugar into a large mixing bowl, "you have to understand that Jim is probably always going to feel this way to a certain extent. I do, and I know your father still does. We hate ourselves for being so blind. And I can't help but understand where Jim is coming from because he did see you every day, he did observe your interactions with Roy. He'll always wish he had seen what seems so obvious now. If I'm being honest with you, I think greater harm will come from you trying to…fix this instead of just accepting that he's angry at himself and moving forward in your relationship."

"I just hate causing him pain," I whisper, leaning against the counter with a sigh. "Hurting him hurts me."

"Well, your pain is his pain too," she points out. "He hurts for you, just as I hurt for you, and your father does." She reaches out and gently brushes the back of her hand against my cheek just beneath the bruise. "I think it'll help when this fades. I hate seeing you like this."

"I know. It'll fade soon." I grab a bag of chocolate chips from the cabinet. "We watched the video of my testimony before we left."

My mom is silent as she waits for me to continue.

"I forgot how bad it looked," I whisper. "And Jim seeing it…" Not surprisingly, my eyes fill with tears again. "It's so humiliating."

"No, honey," my mom replies forcefully. "I refuse to let you say something like that. Jim loves you. It was painfully obvious years before he actually told you, and that hasn't changed. Finding out about this isn't going to change it either, and you should never feel embarrassed about being vulnerable with him."

"I know," I sigh. "But there's so much I regret, and I wish he didn't feel this way too."

"It'll get better, sweetheart," my mom says with a warm, reassuring smile. "Eventually, it'll get better."

Pam's dad and I have always gotten along really well. I charmed the socks off her mom the first time she met me, so I think maybe she said something about me to her husband before we met because he liked me right away. Pam also said she'd talked about me a lot to him, which was really nice of her. He has a similar sense of humor to Pam, so we can joke around easily, and he's a businessman too so we can talk about work. Add to that the love we both have for Pam and we really don't have to work too hard to enjoy our time together.

But this is rough.

Paul's shop is located in a shed connected to the garage. He does woodwork on his days off; he made the desk where Pam draws most of the time. He points out a few pieces he's working on before finally gesturing for me to sit down at the workbench and taking a stool across from me. "Time for some honesty, Jim. After I found out about Roy hurting Pam, I went to a few sessions with a therapist. He didn't pull any punches, he told me like it was, and he was brutally honest. It really helped me when I was overwhelmed with so many emotions I didn't know how to process. So tell me what you're feeling, Jim," he orders bluntly.

That's another thing I like about Pam's dad. He doesn't beat around the bush, much as we'd both like to live in denial about someone hurting his daughter.

I sigh heavily and stare down at my folded hands for a moment as I try to gather my thoughts. "I want to kill Roy," I finally admit softly.

He nods. "I do too."

His agreement bolsters me. "I…hate him. I mean, I never really liked the guy but after finding out about all this I just…" I shake my head, my forearms tensing as anger boils up inside me. "But I don't feel like that's really something I should tell Pam because she already dealt with some of that with him…"

"And I appreciate that," Paul affirms. "I agree with you, Pam's already dealt with more anger than she ever deserved. And also this isn't something she can help you with. This anger isn't something that can be taken out against Roy because then you and I would be the ones in jail. You know what I did, Jim, after I found out? I bought a punching bag. And when that one got too worn out, I got another one." He nods to the corner where a punching bag hangs. "And that's the third one. I don't need it as much anymore, but I do get angry sometimes and I don't want to talk about it with Larissa because she's so sad about the whole ordeal on her own. Sometimes you just need to be angry and take it out on an inanimate object."

The first thing I'm planning to do when Pam and I get home is go to the gym and kill a punching bag with Roy's face on it.

"And I hate myself," I continue quietly after several minutes of silence. "I know Pam doesn't want to hear that but I hate myself for not seeing what was happening."

"And you know, Jim," Paul says, "that's just something you have to learn to accept. Should I have stopped my daughter from dating a football player when she was barely eighteen and I knew she deserved better? Probably. Should you have seen some of those signs she tried to hide from you? Maybe. But it happened, much as you and I both hate it. And all we can do is move on."

"I wish she had trusted me enough to tell me sooner," I whisper, bringing to light the thing I'm having the hardest time wrapping my mind around.

"Larissa and I felt that way too," he affirms, "but I get what you're saying—you two have been dating for awhile, so why didn't she tell you sooner? I think the biggest factor in that was fear. She didn't want you to know. She's still ashamed about what he did, and she didn't want you to think less of her. She knew you would blame yourself, and she didn't want that because she loves you. And maybe part of her is in denial that any of it ever happened. But that's all beside the point, because now you know. All you can do from here is accept the awful truth and move on."

A tear slips past the defenses of my eyelashes and down my cheek. "Were you and Larissa at the trial?"

His jaw clenches and he nods. "Pam doesn't know we went. I almost leaped the railing when the bastard walked in. That video was awful to watch, and I understand you saw the…extended version, which I imagine was even worse."

"She's the best person I've ever known," I choke out, "and he treated her like dirt." I open and close my mouth several times like a fish, but I can't put into words everything else I'm feeling.

"Jim," Paul says softly, leaning forward and waiting for me to meet his eyes before continuing, "the pain will always be there. For both you and Pam. But you make my daughter happy, happier than she ever was with Roy. I believe you two can only grow from this."

I heave in a shaky breath and nod. "That's what I want. It's what we both want."

Really there's nothing more to say. We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Paul stands and I follow him out of the shop.

The house smells amazing and we walk into the kitchen just as Larissa is pulling a baking sheet of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. Pam is standing at the sink washing dishes and she smiles at both of us over her shoulder as we walk in. "Hey," Larissa greets us with a smile that doesn't quite hide the fact that her eyes are red. "The Addams Family is coming on in a few minutes. Do you guys want to watch that?"

We spend the rest of the evening eating cookies and watching the movie. Usually Pam and I aren't quite so affectionate when we're at her parents' house, but she sits right in my lap and her parents don't seem to mind that we snuggle the whole evening. I want to be close to her, and she seems to feel the same way. We're both nodding off by the time the movie's over at ten and we bid Larissa and Paul good night before stumbling off to the guest room.

Pam climbs into bed and wraps her arms tight around me as I reach over and turn off the light. "Today was the best horrible day."

I can't help but chuckle at her apt description of what we've experienced in the past twenty-four hours. "Tomorrow will be better."

She nods and yawns widely. "I love you," she whispers, resting her cheek against my chest.

"Love you too," I reply with a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Sleep tight."

'Best horrible day' indeed.