Years of boredom, relieved in large part by prank after delicious prank, had culminated in this most spectacular of moments. Andy had, after all, completely deserved it. Humming obnoxiously to himself in the moments Jim craved silence, parking himself in front of Pam's desk and soliciting her relationship advice like a needy child, feeding Dwight's already inflated ego with his sycophantic behavior. And that grin. That stupid, child-like grin that he wore around incessantly ever since anger management had stripped him of his ability to show genuine emotions. It had taken over a year, but Andy had evolved from a largely irrelevant object of derision to an object of genuine hate. Jim hated Andy, almost as much as he hated that Andy seemed too oblivious to know it.

The plan was brilliant. Pam had seen it first. In the months following the merger, she often found her gaze and Andy's to be residing on the same woman. Stoic but far too frequent gazes, each masking emotion best not put to words. Her's: veiled envy, punctuated by sporadic but all too real wishes of misfortune. His: veiled longing, so piercingly frustrating in its potency. An unspoken, unrequited, painful secret that his face could only begin to hide. Karen had always seemed oblivious to both of them, her eyes glued to her work save the occasional glance over at Jim, darting little glances that produced a common jarring reminder of reality for both of her silent observers. Andy felt for Karen. He longed for her with a painful subtlety was that was sadly all too easily recognized by Pam. She'd conveyed her observations to Jim in casual conversation a few weeks back and he took note with amusement, not knowing the great effect with which he'd soon wield this information.

The first email was innocent enough. A simple "how are you," and a few details about Utica and the new office. He'd spent hours pouring over his response, taking such care to make it seem casual, his sorry hopes undoubtedly stirred. As Jim had calculated, Andy lacked the mental acuity to catch on to the prank. The second mail was a bit more affectionate. "Karen" wrote a bit about how she missed her old friend, and Jim almost felt a bit of remorse upon seeing Andy light up when he opened the email. Andy always replied carefully, taking care not to be too forward, but Jim never failed to skillfully and efficiently escalate the affection in their exchange. This was his game after all. This was what he did best.

After a few more days of calculated buildup, Andy received an email from his old friend that changed his life. She loved him. She'd finally come to realize it. Please call, Andy, so we can talk. Please call me. Jim was worried that he'd rushed the whole affair, but he knew Andy and Karen did speak occasionally and he needed to compress his prank to fit between their correspondence. He needn't have worried.

Andy took the bait completely. He jumped up from his desk, bouncing nervously before hurriedly scampering out the front door. Pam looked over inquisitively, and Jim flashed her a satisfied grin.

Andy didn't show up for work the next day. Or the next. Or the next.

Two full weeks later, and only on direct orders from corporate, Michael was forced to terminate his employment. After their rough start, Michael had grown to like the guy. The day he fired Andy he retreated to his office and spent the day barricaded behind its locked door.

One week later, the subpoena arrived. Andy had risen from the dead and was suing for damages. It wouldn't matter. He'd sent the messages on time delay from a spoofed IP address outside the company. It could never be traced.

The initial deposition took place at a small law firm in Scranton. The high-powered lawyers from corporate were in town. The lead attorney, a tall, impeccably dressed man who looked every bit the smooth, slick big-city lawyer, coached Jim and Michael during the car ride over. Volunteer nothing, admit nothing, and there is no case. They seemed more worried about Michael than anything. Michael sat quietly and fidgeted like a nervous child, looking very much like he wanted nothing to do with any of it.

As they made their way into the empty conference room, the attorney put his hand on Jim's shoulder, his stern, dark eyes looking right though him.

"Don't worry, son, we've dealt with these guys before. They're a piss-ant little outfit and we'll walk all over them. They haven't the resources or the people to tango with us. Just say as little as you can, and we'll put this baby to sleep" With that, he slapped Jim loudly on the back and snapped open his briefcase.

A secretary came by and offered them coffee. The lawyer interrupted her.

"Time is money, babe. Tell whoever it is you're tossing onto this frivolous little legal grenade to get his ass in here so we can all go home."

The secretary glared back at him and cracked a smile that to Jim looked nothing but mean.

"Actually, sir, Mr. Bernard has brought in outside counsel. We're only lending them the room."

The lawyer's dismissive smirk had barely passed his lips when Andy appeared, followed closely by two sharply dressed attorneys. One an unassuming looking 40-something, a handsome man who's stoic expression sat in strange contrast to his piercing stare. Behind him, a short, fat man, not a day younger than 70. Jim's eyed his thousand dollar suit but quickly averted his gaze when he felt the old man's glare upon him.

Andy sat, flanked by his attorneys, as Jim waited for the opening bravado-filled salvo from Mr. New York. He turned. The corporate big shot was frozen, staring at the old man. The silence was broken by Andy's younger attorney, his voice a strange mix of melody and condescension.

"Greetings, everyone. Alan Shore, representing Mr. Bernard, and this is..."

The old man snarled. Jim recoiled in his chair.

"Denny Crane."



******************************

Jim froze, waiting for his lawyer to reply, to move, to do anything. Mr. New York finally spoke up, making a forced, overly bold jab to reassert his command of the situation.

"Hmph... so you big shots do employment law now? How the mighty have..."

His voice trailed off under Denny's glare even before he could finish his insult.

"Mr Bernard is the son of an old friend of mine. And if you know who I am, you know I never lose. Certainly not when it's personal." Denny leaned back, allowing his glare to bore in on the lawyer for a few more painful seconds before turning to Alan and nodding slightly.

Alan reached into his briefcase and tossed a document across the table to Jim. Jim's lawyer belatedly reached out to intercept the document and began looking it over. He seemed grateful to have somewhere safe to park his eyes for a moment. And so it began. Alan spoke softly.

"Mr. Halpert, before you is a statement in which you admit to knowingly and willfully falsifying communications to Mr. Bernard in a deliberate attempt to cause him emotional distress."

The man's countenance was so flat, his stare so deliberate... Jim felt his shoulders slumping, his breath shortening, and his face burning from the inside. This wasn't going to be fun. Alan Shore continued.

"As you have likely deduced, Mr. Halpert, your signature on that document would be critically damaging to your company's case, and leave them open to a large, painful settlement. I will save your counsel the trouble of warning you, as time is money, after all." Alan paused just long enough to let Mr. New York absorb his mocking.

"The bottom line, Mr. Halpert, is that you must not sign that document. I tell you this in no uncertain terms. If Mr. Crane and I walk out of this deposition with your signature on that paper... well let me assure you we've absolutely crucified far more potent opponents with much less that that. You must not sign it."

Jim's mind was racing. He knew this was headed somewhere, but he couldn't place just where. He clenched his teeth.

Alan shore reached into his briefcase again. He pulled out a kitchen timer, cranked the dial, and placed it on the table facing Jim.

"Thirty minutes, Mr. Halpert. Half an hour. In thirty minutes, the buzzer rings and we take our offer and leave, with or without your signature. If you don't sign, and I remind you once again that you absolutely should not, this case will undoubtedly find its way into open court. That leaves us, Mr. Halpert, with only the matter of the next 29 and a half minutes to attend to. I will merely use that time to enlighten you to a few... truths... that you might be unaware of, the first and foremost being the nature of what I will do to you if I find you at my mercy in open court."

Jim steeled himself, fighting to convince himself that the threat was blustery but largely empty. What are you going to do, shoot me in court? Sticks and stones, Mr. Shore. Sticks and stones.

"With regard to Andrew Bernard, Mr. Halpert, let's rewind to the incident in which you stole his personal property, ostensibly for your own amusement, and with no legal provocation I might add..."

"Objection!" Jim's lawyer jumped to his rescue. Finally. "That's your client's word against mine. Trying to entrap my client into incriminating himself should be below even you, Mr. Shore."

Alan seemed oddly unfazed, as if he'd expected the objection. He continued, his voice a frighteningly stoic mix of arrogance and purpose.

"I'm sorry Mr. Halpert. You weren't so much a thief as a bully, but it is interesting how you conspired to commit this crime ahead of time and secured the involvement of another party, ensuring her susceptibility to legal ramifications as well, by the way, should a particularly skilled and vindictive lawyer ever seek to pursue the matter."

The motherfucker. How dare he.

Jim was about to speak before his lawyer again saved him with a blustery objection. Alan never stopped.

"Aah, but don't worry Mr. Halpert, I assure you I have better things to do with my time than make life any worse for someone who's terrible, terrible taste in men is punishment enough. And furthermore I've no doubt you'd sell her out in a second, weasel yourself a deal so all the blame falls on this Ms. Beesly and none on you."

Alan slowed a bit, leaning toward Jim, his eyes betraying a heartlessness that filled Jim with fear, boring in on Jim like lasers.

"That is after all, Mr. Halpert, what you do best, is it not? Project your failings, your insecurities, your pain onto others. I can assure you, Jim, that it's only you I'm after."

Hearing his first name sent shivers up Jim's spine. He's toying with me. That bastard. For a hired professional, he seemed to harbor extremely personal distaste.

"Karen Filippelli."

So.

It wasn't neither a question nor a statement so much as a probing verbal jab. Alan studied Jim's reaction. Jim attempted to betray nothing. Finally he broke.

"What about her?"

"I will save us all the drama of outlining the pattern of lies you told her over the course of your relationship, as you manipulated her, used her for your own benefit... Your counsel will invariably object, and yes yes yes, it's your word against hers etcetera. We'll just skip that. We are, after all, up against a deadline. Let's move on."

Alan reached into his briefcase, only to freeze. He removed his hand. Empty.

"On second thought, Mr. Halpert, I think I would like to talk a little more about Ms. Filippelli. I spoke to her yesterday. Very interesting woman, Mr. Halpert. Very interesting story."

Alan broke eye contact. He appeared to be looking over and past Jim, out into nothing at all. His voice turned reflective, almost whimsical.

"She's a strange woman, Mr Halpert. Very strange indeed. I can assure you I've seen many a woman of uncommon beauty, Mr. Halpert, but to wear it with such uncommon grace... so strange. Wouldn't you agree, Jim?"

Jim clenched his teeth. Don't let him goad you.

"Strong, too. In a rather organic way, yes?"

Alan returned his focus to Jim.

"Aah but I digress. Opinions about Ms. Filippelli aside, you certainly were able to exploit her desire to think the best of you, were you not? Let me assure you, Mr. Halpert, that I have no such desire. Do you recall leaving her sitting alone in New York, those first tears silently hitting the pavement as you showed her what kind of man you really were?"

Jim's lawyer started to object but Alan interrupted him.

"Don't bother answering, Mr. Halpert. It's not relevant. Here's something that is, however. Did you ever even wonder what happened to her after you made your dash back to Scranton for your dinner date?"

Andy smiled a bit. Michael, frozen solid until this point, leaned in, looking intently at Mr. Shore. He looked somewhat intrigued, like a child being read an entertaining story. Wherever this was going, it was getting close. Jim swallowed hard.

"Let me assure you, Mr. Halpert, that many more tears were spilled that night. Tears that should have been yours, but you didn't have the strength to shed yourself... but again I digress. The point is most of them never hit the pavement. She managed to make her way home, and mercifully, found your efforts to leave her completely abandoned thwarted by someone who actually cared. Imagine that."

Jim remained frozen. How the fuck does he know all this? What the hell did Karen tell him?

Alan sidestepped over to Andy and loudly slapped the front of his shoulder.

"This, Mr. Halpert, is where the tears of your treachery finally landed."

Andy smiled proudly, pointing to the spot that Alan had just slapped. That had been a memorable night indeed. Cathartic and ever so painful, but he wouldn't trade its memory for anything. He'd learned a lot about the kind of man he was that night. Denny loudly patted the already beaming Andy on the back.

Jim's lawyer rolled his eyes, unable to hide his disgust.

"So what Mr. Shore? Do you have anything relevant to this case to add to this deposition?"

Alan looked amused.

"It's my time to waste." Alan gestured to the clock. "But I'll skip to the point if it so pleases you. Karen said nothing to me of direct relevance to this case, but given her understanding of the character of the litigants, and her natural duty as a citizen to help the wheels of justice turn in their pursuit of truth, she did offer up..."

Alan waited, enjoying the palpable tension.

"Any guesses? Anyone?"

Alan produced a document. He slammed it on the table with a flourish.

"Consent. Consent for viewing the master tapes from your little documentary venture. Turns out you only need one signature to get the subpoena."

Jim's lawyer stood up.

"Bullshit, Mr. Shore. That's bullshit and you know it. Her consent means nothing. She signed a contract, as did all of them. The tapes are inadmissible."

Denny, who'd been slumped over with his eyes shut, sprung to life.

"We already have the damn subpoena. Any lawyer worth a damn could find a workable loophole. Might take a week, a month, maybe, but there's always a way in. Took me five minutes. So sit down and shut up."

Alan took over.

"Yes it was rather exciting. Turns out your fancy corporate lawyers ignored the criminal prosecution element. We believe there might be evidence in those tapes of crimes being committed, in this case theft and breaking and entering. Ms. Filippelli merely attested to the fact that she witnessed these actions in the presence of the cameras. Suddenly, the tapes are relevant."

Visibly angry, Jim's lawyer turned and glared at Jim. Alan never stopped.

"It's quite amusing, really, Mr. Halpert. As a litigant, Mr. Bernard's signature wasn't enough. And one simple, harmless denial from a disinterested ex-girlfriend... and the case just dies. But I suppose she just couldn't bring herself to lie for you."

Andy glared. Michael glared. Jim could feel the room closing in on him.

"And the tapes, Mr. Halpert... how I so enjoyed watching them. I had the pleasure of seeing hours upon hours of a pathetic little man compensating for his own misery with childish bullying under the guise of harmless office pranking. The suffering of others amuses you, does it not? That hole you drove my client to punch in the wall was quite the laughing matter, yes? I wonder if the jury will agree? I wonder if they will attribute you the same entitlement you freely grant yourself?"

Jim knew Alan didn't wonder at all. Feeling powerless, he wondered briefly if, had he made different choices, he could have been a lawyer himself.

"Of course not, Mr. Halpert, because by the time we even turn our attention to the facts of the case, I'll have them hating you... rather you'll have them hating you. I merely have to show them you, in high definition nonetheless, lying to, manipulating, hurting, not only those you perceive to have wronged you, but your own girlfriend?."

Those words were spoken just a bit too loud for Jim's comfort. Was this guy fucking Karen or something? Whatever his reasons, his seemingly personal hatred for Jim was disturbing.

"Your own girlfriend, Mr. Halpert? You wouldn't even think to spare her feelings when you were literally one week from purchasing an engagement ring for another woman? Lie after lie after lie. I can only imagine the horrible things you do to your enemies..."

He gestured over at Andy, who suddenly didn't feel quite so much like an enemy anymore.

"There's just one more thing, Mr. Halpert. Undoubtedly right now your counsel is calculating in their head their strategy to win back your credibility with the jury. They will search the tapes for some remorse on your part to mitigate the damage, but they won't find it, will they, Mr. Halpert? But alas, surely they will harvest some moments from the tapes of you engaging in one wholesome act or another to paint you as an upstanding, honorable man. Of this I have no doubt. But there's one tape left. A copy for you."

Alan tossed a DVD on the table. Everyone stared at it in silence.

"Anyone? Anyone?"

Alan glared a bit longer before moving in for the kill.

"It's from one particularly sad evening in New York City, Mr. Halpert. It's really quite astonishing how amazingly you managed to acquit yourself, I must say. Sitting with her for all of 30 seconds while she spilled tears over you and your lies? And getting up and scampering off like a coward while she sat there and cried alone? Bravo, Mr. Halpert. And the look on your face... Oh, priceless!"

Jim's lawyer objected again, this time with far less bluster than usual.

"There's no tape from the production company for that night. You're bluffing, Mr. Shore. It's not admissible."

Alan flinched his glare to the lawyer, as if shocked at the man's very presence.

"This tape didn't come from the production company. One particularly kind camera man, apparently somewhat appreciative of Ms. Filippelli's history of candor with him, was somewhat moved by the sight of her, sitting there in your client's wake... betrayed, heartbroken... humiliated. Mr Halpert didn't care to know how she was getting home that night but there's your answer. He drove her home and before leaving her, gave her the tape, to spare her the further humiliation of ever having to watch your client's fine work air publicly. This is her property. She kindly let me borrow it for this trial. That copy, though, you may keep"

Alan leaned across the table. Jim recoiled briefly as Alan's face closed into his personal space, before recovering slightly and steadying himself. Alan's voice lowered to almost a whisper.

"Perhaps leaving her crying in the city wasn't the best idea after all, was it?"

Alan stopped to revel in Jim's discomfort for a long moment before speaking again. This time the venom in his voice had an almost hypnotic quality to it.

"Mr. Halpert. Mr. Bernard's father can afford any lawyer in the country to represent his son. He's chosen me. Do you wonder what I'm capable of? I will destroy you because that's what I'm paid to do. But it gets better. I've seen what sort of man you are, and for all the dirtiness of my profession, for all the scum I defend and all the good people I tear apart, every once in a while the universe aligns and I get to lay into the type of man I simply loathe. Small, selfish men, perhaps, who revel in their own pain with such dramatic flair, yet think nothing of manipulating another into suffering so that they don't have to. Relentless bullies, perhaps, who's primary source of enjoyment is found in the discomfort of others..."

Alan stood up, raising his voice back to normal levels. Around the room, everyone who'd been leaning in to listen slowly backed into their chairs.

"Do you know such a man, Mr. Halpert? I will show the jury such a man, and then I will make them eat from the palm of my hand by tearing you limb from limb for their enjoyment. This trial is largely your word against my client's, Mr. Halpert. Character is relevant. Character is everything. Fortunately, you're in possession of very little."

Jim's lawyer finally reacted. Springing to his feet, he broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Recess. Now!"

Alan answered back all too politely.

"Certainly, but be quick, you have... thirteen minutes."


***********************


"Is it true? When we watch the tapes, are we going to find what he says we're going to find?"

With the plaintiffs safely out of the room, his own lawyer was now angrily yelling in his face. Jim didn't answer. He looked away. Mr. New York was apparently a good enough lawyer to know exactly what that meant.

"You really fucked us on this one. Really fucked us."

He reached into his pocket and retrieved a pen, throwing it painfully into Jim's chest. It bounced and fell to the floor.

"Go sign the fucking paper. Best we just stipulate to you being a total douche-bag than give Alan Shore the chance to get you in front of a jury and prove it. Juries can get emotional and decide to send a really costly message, and since you gave him such a fat target, he'll get them there pretty easily. Alan Shore will have them wanting to drink your blood, and you've left us no defense except to sit there and hope the dumb faces you make strike a chord with the jury."

That was mean. Jim watched as he turned to another defense lawyer, his earlier bravado nowhere to be found.

"Call the office and let them know we're going to settle."


*************************

He didn't know what was most humiliating: getting his ass kicked like that or the fact that an overjoyed Andy had gone out of his way to request that Jim not be fired as part of the settlement. Michael, who had agreed to this, hadn't said a word to him the whole way back, which was mercifully only a short car ride. The sheer resilience of that man's faith in him had never really registered with Jim, until the moment he knew it was gone. He felt like his chest was about to cave in.

Jim unlocked the door, remembering to himself the last words Alan Shore had said to him after the deposition had ended. She doesn't care what kind of man you are, Mr. Halpert, but why not be the kind of man that she deserves anyway. As he stepped inside, Pam, relaxing in her padded lounge chair, sketchpad in hand, looked up at him and smiled. She'd already set it aside and rose to greet him when she saw his countenance and froze.

"I love you, Pam."

Kneeling, he looked up, admiring her stunned happiness. Bullshit time was over. She knew it was real this time.


*************************


As expected, she looked surprised to see him. It was nearly 10PM, after all, and he hadn't called ahead. She peeked through the crack in the door, before shutting it disengage the chain lock. The door re-opened and she poked her head out, her brown hair still wet from showering.

"Mr. Shore?"

"I'm sorry to bother you again, Ms. Filippelli. I promise I'll be brief."

She nodded her head, never breaking eye contact, staring curiously back at him.

"I want you to know that we broke the defense today and paved the way to a large settlement for your friend, one which would not have been possible without your help. Mr. Bernard, as well as myself are very much in your debt."

She smiled.

"Andy told me what happened. Congratulations."

"Wait... Ms. Filippelli. Please hear me out. I saw the tapes. I saw everything. And while I'm sure you don't need me rehashing your pain..."

The man who wields words so potently paused for a minute before finding his footing and continuing.

"Know that there are people who will look upon your error in trusting your heart to the completely wrong person, and find no fault, but rather the most real kind of strength. I, for one, have often endeavored to possess the courage to make that sort of risk, yet have time and again failed. Know that there are people out there who will see you... will see you for exactly what you are."

Karen stared back at him, her eyes betraying nothing. Betraying everything.

"Andy told me the whole story. I know who you're not, Mr. Shore. And I'm starting to think I might know who you are."

She took a step back, pulling the door open. They're eyes remained locked as Alan stepped inside, taking in through his peripheral vision the rather inviting sight of her bare legs and nightgown clad body, her tan skin beautifully framed by the light in her apartment behind her.

"If you think I'm easy, Karen, I'll have you know that you're right."

Alan quickly lost the initiative as Karen grabbed his necktie and pulled down hard. He dropped his briefcase noisily on her floor as their lips met for the first time.