Katy was a little drunk, that was for sure. Why else was she suddenly Pam’s best friend, seeking her out to come dance, hanging on her every word and bringing her drinks? It was weird to be wooed by a cheerleader, someone who would never have given her the time of day in high school, not even when she started going out with one of the football players all the pom-pom shakers idolized.

When she began prying her with questions about Jim, it made a little more sense.

“Does he have brothers or sisters?”

“Yeah, two older brothers and a younger sister who he adores. Seems the two older ones were relentless in their pranks and teasing of them both when they were growing up, so Larissa and Jim teamed up themselves to fight back against their tormentors. But the way he describes it, it’s mostly in good fun. He’s very close with all his family.”

Pam had to wonder in their few months of dating, had he never told her about his siblings and the antics that took place among their family? She learned all about the Halpert clan within a week of knowing him. It was hard to imagine Pete, Tom and Rissa never came up in conversation, much less that Katy hadn’t been brought home to meet any of the crew over the recent holidays.

“So, what kind of things does he like, aside from making jokes and playing pranks?”

“Well, he’s really into music. He always knows about groups and songs that are a little less mainstream but still really good. Like that one song by Travis. He played you them, right?

Katy’s button nose wrinkled and her cheeks filled with uncertainty as she tried to recall the group Pam mentioned.

“Travis, hmmm. No, doesn’t ring a bell.”

Pam dipped her head back in gentle laughter at Katy’s use of the common cliché, but didn’t explain the reason. She knew it was a little rude but chances are Katy wouldn’t understand what she found so funny anyhow. If she didn’t know the song, she wouldn’t know about the song’s strange opening beats.

In her head, Pam could almost hear the unusual synth chord, that when it first rang in her ears out of a pair of shared earphones, reminded her of a wailing tea kettle. Crossfading from the ascending hiss was the rising tone of chiming bells, eerie and almost ominous upon that first listen, but ever since the effect of hearing them was comforting and even uplifting as it made her think of her friend Jim whenever she played it.

And as the third song on the mixed tape he hid in her teapot, that was quite often.

“Sing. You must know the song; he’s always got it cued up on his iPod.”

Katy shook her head, looking a little dejected, Pam’s laughter probably not helping her feel any better that she didn’t know what music groups her boyfriend liked.

With eyes darting downward, a touch of remorse rimming her irises, Pam veered the conversation away from the songs he liked to listen to and onto his personal musical abilities.

“You know he dabbles with playing guitar himself?” she half stated, half asked.

This tidbit of information she only just learned herself while at his recent party. There in his room she not only discovered his yearbook and his dorky teenaged headshot, but she also she spied the instrument tucked in a corner and asked him to play. He wasn’t bad, but clearly had taught himself and wasn’t leaving Dunder Mifflin to join any rock bands soon.

She imagined Katy must have also noticed the guitar in his room at some point and likewise asked for a private concert after a different kind of private performance.

The blank look in Katy’s vacant yet still gorgeous eyes said otherwise.

“So, he’s a musician and not an athlete?”

“Um, Jim, no he’s a huge sports guy, you had to know that, right?”

“Sort of. I know he likes to watch football.”

“He watches, and is on at least two fantasy football leagues. He also follows baseball, hockey, basketball and even tennis occasionally.”

Pam answered Katy matter-of-factly but wondered what they talked about when they were together. Was Katy just too self-absorbed to pick up on her own boyfriend’s varied pursuits and interests or was he not sharing with her? Either way, it was hard to believe Katy knew so little about Jim.

“He also plays. He was a starter on his high school basketball and was really good. Still is.”

She remembered how impressed she’d been watching him play that day at the office. Even if Michael hadn’t pulled his phony foul nonsense and cut the game short, it was his team that most likely would have been the winners, primarily due to his skills. Like a gazelle on the court, she recalled herself being drawn to his lean lines and graceful moves, paying more attention to him than her own fiancé who played like a linebacker, using his hefty body to move through the space and other players instead of using fancy footwork like his main competitor.

Taking a pull from her beer, she washed down the guilt she felt once more at her memory of being attracted to her friend during the game. Setting it down, her fingers settled on the engagement ring that had pulled her back to reality that day too. Twisting it nervously as she often did, she awaited Katy’s next inquiry.

“I'd like to be engaged. How did you manage to pull that off?”

Jim, she didn’t much mind talking about, but her three-years long engagement was not one of her favorite topics to discuss. She could almost sense a difference in the air as the conversation shifted from Jim’s athleticism to her sidelined nuptials.

“Uh, I've been engaged for three years, and there's no end in sight. So... you don't wanna ask my advice.”

The electric hum, present as Pam had rattled off the stuff Jim was into, ceased to vibrate in the atmosphere surrounding them. There was nothing exciting about a wedding that wasn’t being planned or a fiancé who after asking her to marry him three years ago, seemed to have forgotten he had.

Sensing a slight buzz return to her body, imaginably from the swig that just reached her bloodstream, she looked up to notice Jim coming towards them, no doubt to retrieve his girlfriend and whisk her away for her own tour of the upper deck.

Still, his near presence seemed to have an instant effect Pam could feel on her face.

They both turned to greet him as he arrived at the booth when quite abruptly, Roy’s slurred voice filled the space, drawing their attention to where he stood at the microphone.

“Hey, everybody. Can I have your attention for just a second…”  

---

Find Michael without being seen.

Randall said it as if it were a simple task but neither part seemed like an easy exercise to her.

Her gut seemed to agree as it gurgled and growled once more, as if in protest at the mission ahead.

Taking a moment to unwrap the bar he handed her, she sat down and began to nibble on it, feeling her stomach settle as the oats and honey filled the emptiness. She let herself rest for a minute digesting, even while knowing the minutes lost as she ate increased the danger of the situation with time-traveling Michael unaccounted for.

Still, she was somewhat confident the two doppelgängers hadn’t crossed paths yet. She felt like she would know if a cataclysmic event of that nature were to happen. There’d most surely be a major upheaval, a commotion that would bring everyone aboard to the site of convergence, creating confusion and panic, screaming and fainting, and quite possibly more people jumping out the windows into the freezing waters.

A meeting like that would cause a bigger disturbance than the incident the lone Michael caused when he announced the ship was sinking, because this time even the Dunder Mifflin people would be shaken at the sight of two Michael Scotts.

Or perhaps not. Her office kinfolk had witnessed unimaginable madness before, things never before thought possible until they were employed at the paper company under the current regional manager. Would they also be unfazed by seeing two of him, thinking it some trick he’d somehow devised as part of his presentation?

But what kind of lasting damage would it cause him, Michael? She was annoyed with him still for dragging her back in time and onto the boat. However, the former was not exactly his fault, who could imagine that Jim’s toy Time Turner would contain real magic? The latter and this new disappearing act, well that she could blame him for, and she did, but still she wished him no permanent harm.

Despite wanting nothing more than to find a warm hiding spot and wait out the rest of the evening, she scarfed down the remainder of the bar so she could get back to her search.

She rose, pulling her scarf tighter around her neck and slipping her hands back into the gloves she had removed to eat.

Not quite sure what to make of the shakiness she felt when she stood, her sea legs now less stable than they’d been earlier, she looked around as she tried to steady herself. In the distance, was a view of the night sky lit up by stars and the glow off a waxing moon but she only allowed herself a moment to be distracted by the beauty of it, focusing instead on the different structures that traversed the upper deck.

Balance regained she asked herself, shivering a bit as she composed the internal question, If I were Michael, where would I go?

Glancing once more over the expanse in front of her, she heard Michael’s giddy voice reverberate in her head, exploring of course.

Since he’d spent most of his time below this level the first time around, it was likely he started this go’s survey of the boat up here. Last trip, he’d only been in one spot while on the upper deck, handcuffed to the railing at the bow.  

As she took the first steps of her search, a sound from behind startled her and she jumped back behind the pillar that hid her from Jim earlier. Once able to investigate from the safe space behind it, she looked out again to see who or what it was. Seeing no one she determined it must have been the wind wailing through the cavernous spaces or the waves slapping up against the sides. In the stillness, the surrounding noises seemed magnified, but as far as she could tell there was nobody else around.

She was alone once again.

Solitude, it was a treasure for some, not always for Pam. There were times when the subtle voices in her head that formed questions about her choices got a little too loud when there weren’t others around to drown them out. At home, when Roy would leave her there, she would call her mom or try Isabel, watch the television shows that he refused to or if she were in the middle of a good book, the characters became her company. Anything that could distract her from her doubts and keep her out of her own head.

Coming out from behind her hiding space, she stepped to up to where she and Jim had been standing.

To be distracted, it was why she came up here with Jim that night, tonight she supposed, remembering how it just occurred again. There were plenty of people around below and yet she couldn’t quiet her mind while among them. There was one voice she knew could shut hers up so she asked him to take a walk with her, but instead of a diversion, she got silence. Silence so loud, she had to return to the rowdiness of the crowds to stop hearing it.

At present however, she supposed being on her own was best. She couldn’t search for Michael otherwise and for now that would be enough to keep her mind occupied.

To make sure of it, she layered in a soundtrack to her quest, softly singing as she walked back along the rows of benches, checking under each one for signs of her missing boss.

“Unless you sing, sing, sing, sing.”

Alternating between the words she knew and humming the parts she didn’t, she let the music fill her head as she combed the area.

Up by the stern she peeked behind the additional columns and under all the tarps that covered various boating equipment. There were more than a few places to hide up here and one never knew where Michael might find a place to conceal himself from view if he too heard the noises that might be mistaken for other people.

Moving up towards the front, she checked all the doors, including the one marked crew only, hesitating briefly before disobeying the sign, the importance of the mission eventually outweighing her fear.

Behind the forbidden door was a small supply storeroom full of spare life jackets and more of the crew’s familiar windbreakers hanging from hooks in a long row. Below a sea of yellow and orange flanking the wall were boxes of provisions, a pile of hefty wool blankets, some unidentifiable ship equipment and other surplus materials.

A small refrigerator stood in the corner. There was no reason to open it, it wasn’t like Michael might be hiding inside it, but she did so anyway, having already broken the rules, aside from being both curious and thirsty.

There she discovered, among the other contents, a stockpile of 500ml Poland Spring waters. Although alone in the room, she craned her head around to check her surroundings once more before she grabbed one, telling herself there were so many, one would not be missed.

She’d long ago set down the drinks she had obtained for Michael without ever having taken a single sip and while the granola bar was satisfying and served to quiet her belly, it was also extra dry. Gulping down half a bottle in one long swig, she debated taking a second before releasing the door, spying the Yoplaits, including a few of her favorite mixed berry flavor just seconds before it completely shut.

She felt only somewhat rejuvenated following the water and the granola bar. Hers wasn’t a big appetite, but the small repast could hardly be considered a full meal, and certainly not one that would satiate the extraordinary hunger that she suspected would be permanently present on this journey, a natural accompaniment to warping the fabric of space and time.

Never letting go of the handle she yanked the door back open, going as far as to reach inside but let it go empty-handed. Taking one of these, she decided was a step to bold for her. Besides, she didn’t have a spoon.

Forgetting the yogurt, she took another small sip of the stolen water instead, replaced the cap, and settled the bottle into the pocket with the crumpled wrapper and took a few steps back from the fridge so not to be tempted further.

Another glance around the area revealed nothing new. None of the boxes were large enough for a grown man to hide in, even Michael who once tried to hide under a towel in the lower portion of the office mail cart, but another door flanked the far side of the room. Moving away the box that stood in its way she attempted to pull it open but found it was locked.

“Michael,” she spoke into the door.

There was no reply.

“Hermione,” she uttered, thinking maybe just maybe, he actually was being cautious and remembered to only respond to the code word.

With still no response, she pushed the box back against the door and stepped back out of the storeroom to continue her search elsewhere.

With no other doors to open she walked around to the spot where she’d last seen Dwight.  He was no longer playing sailor behind the phony wheel but his departure hadn’t summoned Michael back so there was no real reason to linger.

But she did. Not for very long, but long enough to pull at her gloved hand and twist at her ring, the way she often did when stressed or faced with a difficult situation.

One, two, three turns.

That was usually enough to settle her nerves, but tonight she took an extra turn before she raised her head back up.

Ahead of her she could see another deck that jutted out slightly above the one she was on. There, on the platform she spied the canary yellow outerwear of a real crewman steering from inside a more modern control center. From behind she saw only his beanie-capped head and the myriad of gearshifts, levers and screens that he maneuvered with seemingly laser focus. He appeared to be alone up in the bridge but she couldn’t quite make out the whole area from where she stood.

She thought to check there too, knowing anything was possible with Michael. Perhaps he had made a new friend of the ship’s navigator and was keeping him company as he steered the ship around the lake.

Pam paced back and forth, scanning the area for another staircase or door that might lead up to his perch. Finding no way to reach it, at least not from where she was, she decided it wasn’t likely Michael would be up there anyhow.

Plus, she had to imagine breaching the platform of the mariner was an offense that would positively put her in plastic cuffs and she’d wind up side by side with Michael number one in the brig, that is if the night followed the same course as the original cruise and Michael number two wasn’t off taking it in another direction.

The thought had her racing back to the stern.

A new course, while good for the man who jumped, could be disastrous for her. No wonder her stomach was aflutter again, as if the granola bar Randall had shared was made of larvae that turned to flittering butterflies once in her abdomen.

It was the butterflies she was afraid of; more precisely it was “the butterfly effect she feared.”

Those small creatures had the ability to cause a typhoon through the slightest of movements.

Michael was somewhere on this boat, flapping his wings and even if he didn’t crash into himself, even if there was no new major upheaval, even if he saw no one and did nothing to create the trouble she and Randall both feared he could, his most innocuous action could still by chain of events, change her future.

Her future was a June tenth wedding but it might not be if she didn’t find Michael in time.

Back at the stern, Pam stood hovering by the spot where she watched Randall drop through the floor via a second egress to the lower deck. She reached for the catch, but instead of lifting it, she froze looking back towards the other exit.

She’d made it down those other stairs unseen before, back when she went to obtain medicinal drinks for Michael. Maybe not entirely unseen, after all she’d passed Stanley, but he was the one person who would not have sensed anything wrong in seeing her in two separate places in the span of less than a minute. However, she wasn’t sure she’d be so lucky again. This time she could be caught by someone else, perhaps even by Jim, who might still be milling about anywhere, and recalling how he seemed when last she saw him, brooding at the bar was highly likely. She knew he hadn’t been with her or Katy for a long stretch of time between their walk upstairs and when he returned back to her side, just before Roy took over the microphone and proposed a true wedding date at long last.

With the proposition of retreating down into the bar area seeming far too risky, it left the unknown staircase at her feet the more prudent way down. Still, she couldn’t make herself pull up on the plank in the floor. Though she’d seen Randall take the steps, she had no idea where this other way down let out and that worried her too.

Twist, twist, twist.

Three more turns didn’t give her the courage she needed this go around. Nor did a fourth or a fifth.

It was more dangerous she knew, to hesitate than to just go but she couldn’t make herself move.

Once again, she pulled herself back to the cruise of her memory. Was she back at her seat yet, being bombarded with questions about Jim or was she still dancing with the girls?

Wherever she was, she remembered no stairs near either spot so this way had to be the safer route down, the only logical choice.

Unless she discovered more Harry Potter magic within her and had the ability to apparate, there was no third option.

Silly as she felt, she closed her eyes and gave it a try all the same, focusing as hard as she could on the outer deck of the second level, hoping that if for some surprising reason it did work, she didn’t wind up splinching herself in the process.

When she opened her eyes again, she was still in one piece but also still in the exact same spot. She may have traveled back in time earlier, but she was just a plain old muggle after all.

Hesitating for just a minute more, she took a deep breath, looked up to the sky and then back at the trap door at her feet.  

She made one more turn of her ring before propping up the handle that lifted the floor and revealed the secret steps. Steps, she prayed would lead her to Michael and in turn, save her date.