Pam smiles as a shadow crosses her desk.  She wonders when she will stop being surprised to find him looming over the edge, just like he had a year ago. 

"Was that Michael?"  Jim asks as he rifles through the candy dish.

She nods and smiles wider.  "He wants everyone to be at their desks when he comes in."  

"When will he be here?"

"Like ten minutes.  He says it's a very important announcement."

"Well then I have nine minutes and thirty seconds to stay here and talk to you."  He smiles widely as he settles in, resting his elbows on her desk.

She gazes back as he continues to tease her.  As he does only one thought fills her mind.

This is much better.

"Pam." 

She stops mid giggle and turns her head slightly to her left.   She can see Dwight's scowl out of the corner of her eye.

"Need something, Dwight?"  Jim asks curiously.

"I need Pam's assistance - and this has nothing to do with you.  You should get back to work." he snaps back.

Jim bites his lip and regards Dwight carefully.  "As your boss, I need to point out that you should get back to work.  And by the way - I think you should know - I represent Pam now..."

"Represent her?"

"Well yeah.  With all this filming and documentary stuff...Pam's a hot commodity."  Jim says with a grin.

"A hot...?" Pam begins but trails off as she catches the look in Jim's eye.  It's clear he's up to something.

"So, she needs someone to look after her interests.  Now tell me Dwight - what exactly are you approaching Pam about?"

Dwight ignores Jim's question and looks over at Pam imploringly. 

She bites back a grin and nods solemnly.  "Dwight - it's okay."  She turns her attention to Jim.  "Can you give us a minute?"

His eyebrows rise as he gazes down at her.  In return she gives an almost unperceivable wink.  He backs away from her desk slowly, a grin spreading across his face, content in knowing he'll get the full story later.

Dwight stares straight at Pam and whispers conspiratorially.   "We have a project."

"OK."

"Please follow me.  Bring a pad and pen or number two pencil...and do..."  He leans closer, his voice lowers considerably.  "Do you have any more of those...candies?"

"Jellybeans?"

"Yes."

She reaches into her bottom desk drawer and pulls out a small white bag, handing it over with a grin.  "I do.  Actually...I bought some black ones.  Those are your favorites right?"

"You are quite observant."  Dwight declares as he makes his way towards the conference room.

"Thank you Dwight."

"You're welcome." 

Pam settles into a chair at the table and places her pad and pen in front of her waiting patiently for Dwight to explain the purpose of this meeting.

"Michael has a task for me - for us..."

"OK." 

"He is searching for his long lost relatives.  He believes - as do I - that this might be the key to his financial freedom."

Pam leans her chin on her hand and narrows her gaze, fighting to keep her voice level.    She already had an inkling of this.  Michael is not at all subtle.  When he asked her to Google Really rich old people who are related to Michael G. Scott she'd had her first clue. 

Still she solemnly asks.  "And how is that?"

"People learn of lost inheritances all the time.  When my Uncle Heimlich died he left thousands - near millions.  Unfortunately there was the problem of not being able to prove Mose's parentage, which has now been resolved..."

"And how does this pertain to Michael exactly?"

"We need to do research, Pam."  Dwight grabs an enormous handful of black jelly beans. 

She cringes; knowing that having his mouthful isn't going to keep him from continuing this conversation.

"Hours of research."

She nods again.  "I'll start right away then."

"You'll give me reports every evening before you go home, correct?"

"Of course Dwight."

"Detailed reports.  In triplicate.  No.  Quadruplicate."  As Pam stands and begins to gather her things Dwight leans across the table his teeth a disturbing shade of gray. 

"You understand you'll be compensated well - monetarily speaking - once all is said and done?"

Though it's hard to do, Pam holds his gaze steadily.  "Absolutely I do."

Dwight turns swiftly on his heel and leaves the room.  Pam shakes her head, trying to keep from laughing as she follows behind.

Jim is nearly on the edge of his seat wondering what has just gone on between Dwight and Pam.  He pushes back his chair and is just about to approach her to ask when there's the sound of a commotion near the door.

"DWIGHT." 

Michael is standing in the entrance way of the office wearing a gold crown embellished with plastic jewels and a long red felt cape trimmed in white faux fur.

Dwight and Andy scramble together to reach the door, tripping over themselves to get a hold of the hem of Michael's cape.   Dwight elbows Andy out of the way, nearly making him topple over in the process.

Pam turns to look at Jim.  He simply bows his head and tries to hold in his laughter.

Dwight clears his throat and begins.  "Hear ye...hear ye...citizens of Dunder-Mifflin, may I present to you..."   He looks at Michael with a confused expression.

"Michael..."

Exasperated beyond belief Michael finishes the sentence for him.  "Michael, King of Scotts."

The rest of the office hears the declaration and goes straight back to work. 

Michael can't believe the lack of respect.    He looks over at Pam who smiles sweetly.  "You look very regal Michael."

"Thank you, fair Lady Beesly..."   He turns his attention to Jim.  "Ahh.  My gentle knight...Sir James of Halpert..."

"Oh hey Michael.  So glad you're here."

"Do you like my royal garments?"

"Yeah they're great.  Listen...I'll have a Whopper with cheese, hold the onions and a large fry.  Pam?  Can I get you anything?"

"Onion rings and a chicken sandwich."

"Done.  Pam would like onion rings and a chicken sandwich.  And give us two Cokes with that."  Jim reaches in his pocket to grab his wallet.  "How much do I owe you?"

"Jim."  Michael replies through clenched teeth.  "I am not Burger King." 

"You're not?  Are you sure?  You look a lot like him - although you might be missing something.  I can't quite figure it out.  Pam?"

"It's the beard Jim."  She says thoughtfully.  "He's missing the beard...and the moustache."

"Of course."  Jim nods.  "That's too bad.  I could really go for a hamburger right now.  Can you take the crown off a sec?  Your hair...it's looking a bit on the reddish side.  Maybe you're Wendy?"

"Mmmm.  I'd love a Frosty..."  Pam grins.

"Look.  Stop.  I'm not Burger King or Wendy or the guy with the goatee and the chicken.  I'm the King of Scotts.  I'm the rightful ruler of all those named Scott - near and far."

"Do you mean Scots?  Like from Scotland?  Jim squints at him.  "Because I'm not sure if you realized we're actually in America..."

"I mean Scotts.  My last name is Scott, so I'd be the King of....Scotts.  Jim.  I'm talking about my heritage.  My...genes if you will."

"You mean your fun jeans?"

"No.  Not my fun jeans.  I mean my..."  His forehead wrinkles as he struggles to explain.  "...DNR or my nationality."  Michael is beyond exasperated.  "Did you not pay attention at my Diversity seminar?"

Jim looks up and grins widely at Pam.  "I was a little distracted that day."

"Well you can watch the tape of my presentation again this afternoon.   My point is that I'm 29.8% sure that I have descended from royalty."

"Wow.  Sounds like a sure thing then."

"Exactly."  Michael agrees.  "See what I'm saying here Jim is that I'm sure that there's some sort of treasure or dowry that comes along with it."

"A treasure?"  Jim can't believe how this just keeps getting better and better.  "Are you the king of pirates?" 

"No.  Not pirates.  Jim.  Never mind."  Michael adjusts his crown before turning to retreat to his office.  He becomes tangled in his cape causing Dwight to stumble behind him.  "I will be in my royal chamber should you need me."

"Thanks."  Jim chuckles as he turns back to face Pam.

"Lunch?"  She says with a wide smile.  "I really would like a Frosty now."

He nods as he stands and grabs his jacket off the back of the chair.  "Sure.  And I'm buying."

"Families don't grow on trees.  Sometimes...they live in trees - like the Swiss Family Robinson.  Man.  I loved that movie. And men - apparently are in trees.  Jan makes me watch that show, but it's confusing to me.  I thought that girl on it was with Ellen..."

Michael settles behind his desk and straightens his tie.  "We will now document my search for posteriority.  Pam, start the camera."

She shakes her head and giggles as she walks behind the tripod.  "OK."

"I'll be the director."  Dwight offers as he nearly shoves Pam out of the way.

"No.  You are Assistant to the Director."  Michael corrects him.  "I am the director...and producer...and the head of the studio.  And the star, obviously."

Pam clears her throat.  "Um..Michael?"

"What?"

"The camera is rolling."

"Right.  OK.  So."  Michael sits up straighter and gives a smile.  "Today we are going to peruse my heritage.  There are many tools on the interweb to choose from...there's Ancestry.com for instance - but Pam had to ask for my credit card because they charge a fee and the point is to find my fortune, not spend one.  I mean - you shouldn't have to pay for this type of information.  Should you?  I think it should be prioritory.   So our current findings came from....what was it Pam?"

"Pedigree.com." She deadpans.

"Which is not just for dogs.  You might have thought so, but...not the case.  They actually have a database of dog owners, and through that we've found ancestors of mine who have owned dogs.   So.  Without further adieu..."   Michael waves the printout in front of the lens. 

"It appears that I am directly descended from...Randolph MacGruder Scott, from Edinburgh," As he says the words Michael does a horrible impression of a Scottish burr. "...owner of a...what else?  An award winning Scottish terrier.  Also, Bettina Scott Waldorf, probably owned that hotel in New York..."  He picks up a highlighter and swipes it over the name with a flourish.  "We need to look into that for sure."

"On it."  Dwight proclaims as he pulls a notebook out of his pocket and scribbles.

"Bettina Scott Waldorf was the proud owner of a three time champion Chihuahua.  Then there is Warren Schroeder Scott."

Dwight's head snaps up at the sound of the name.  "Did you say Schrute Scott?"

"No.  I did not Dwight.  I said Schroeder."

"It sounded more like Schrute to me."  He replies.  "And either way, I pretty sure there is a Schroeder or two..."

"Dwight.  I am not related to you."

"You could be."

"No.  I'm telling you I can't be.  I'm trying to find my wealthy relatives...not some long lost beet farming half cousin."  He sighs heavily.  "Can we just move on?"

"I still don't think you can rule it out..."

"Dwight!" 

As she watches them bicker Pam hears a soft knock on the window behind her.  She nods and Jim makes his way to the door, opening it slowly.

He peeks his head inside. "Hey Michael?"

"Jim."  Michael rolls his eyes exasperated.  "Quiet on the set.  We're filming."

"Sorry.  Can I have a word with Scorsese here for a second?"  He nods towards Pam and smiles widely.

"She's busy, Jim.  Doing her job.  Don't you have a job to do?"  Dwight interjects.

"Funny.  I could ask you the same thing."  Jim replies.  "Anyway - I thought Pam was working on helping you find a possible inheritance."

"How do you know that?"  Dwight looks at Pam accusingly.

Jim regards Dwight carefully before he replies.  "As Michael's number two - it is my job to know what is going on here at all times.  And I was coming here to tell Pam that I think I might have found one of your relatives, but if you don't want my help..."

"No!" Michael shouts, cutting him off.  "Thank you, Jim.  Come in.  Who have you found?"

"I hope you don't mind.  This was a really big project and I've been assisting Pam..."

"Pam's been assisting me."  Dwight interrupts through clenched teeth.

Jim shrugs.  "If you say so.  Anyway...I've done a few Google searches..."

Dwight snorts.  "So pedestrian. You should branch out Jim.  There are other more powerful search engines you know..."

"That's...riveting.   Michael?  I have to go make a few calls, but here's a quick list of people you might be related to."

"Jim.  This is very helpful.  Thank you."  Michael regards the sheet of paper closely as Jim gives Pam a wink and heads for the door.  Her eyes follow him until he's seated back at his desk.  She sighs as she turns her attention back Michael, who is reading the list with much ceremony.

"George C. Scott.  Award winning actor.  Very nice."   He clears his throat and moves on.  "E. Irvin and Clarence Scott, founders and creators of Scott Tissue..."

Dwight beams at him.  "As much as I hate to admit it, that one makes perfect sense, Michael.  It would mean it's your destiny to work with paper..."

"Real paper - Dwight.  Not the kind you use to wipe your...."  He shakes his head, completely disgusted at the possibility.   He regards the list again. "OK, WAIT.  This one has potential.  Coretta Scott King."

Pam bites her lip to keep from laughing.  "Michael I don't think you're related to..."

"I could be Pam.  Which would mean I was related to Martin Luther King - which you know is fitting - since we are both so committed to diversity."

He looks so happy she decides to give him at least this much.  "It would."

"Absolutely something to investigate.  Many, many possibilities.  This is all so exciting.  OK. Let's see what else."  He leans back in his chair and shuffles the papers before him.  "We have...Vivian Scott-Gould - owner of a bull terrier.  Wow, it looks just like that dog in the beer commercial.  You know.  Spuds Mackenzie.  I loved that guy.  No, it's more that I admired him. He definitely knew how to party and c'mon.  No one can deny that he had a way with the ladies."  Michael smirks, then realization washes over his features.  He stares at the paper again looking horrified.  "Wait a second.  Oh my God."

Pam looks at Dwight in confusion and then back to Michael.

"What?"

"Do you not understand what this means?" He stands and shoves the page towards them both. 

"What!?"

"Gould."  Michael's voice raises a full octave.  "Jan Levinson-Gould...Vivian Scott-Gould. My common-law wife - as Jan likes to call herself - is actually my relative Pam.  This would mean it has to end.  I mean - imagine if we had children.  They'd be mutated for sure.  I just hope it's not too late.  I mean, Jan's been packing on the pounds since she's moved in.  And I don't understand it."  He stares at Pam in earnest.  "Pam.  You're of the female persuasion..."

This cannot be good.  "Oh God..." 

"As a woman I need you to tell me.  Is it normal to eat Cool Whip right out of the tub at three in the afternoon?  Is that what you do?  Is it just at that time of the month or is this a normal occurrence?"

"I don't know Michael..."

"And I don't mean the fat-free kind.  It's the Extra Creamy.  I mean.  Ewww."  He shivers as he continues.  "She lays out my clothes at night before I go to bed.  She does laundry six times a day with some new detergent I don't like.   Everything's starchy.  I'm getting a rash I think...maybe...down there."  He whispers.  "Pam.  Did you notice anything when you walked in and saw my..."

"No. Michael."  She shivers at the memory.

"Not even a little bit...?"

"NO.  MICHAEL."

"OK."  His voice rises, he sounds positively giddy.  "But do you not understand how serious this is?  I mean, I could be sleeping with my sister or...fourteenth cousin.  Either way - it's completely inappropriate, and incestuous."

Pam tries to explain.  "Michael I don't think she's..."

"Well.  It has to stop - even if I'm not a hundred percent sure, because the risk is just too great."

"Michael, we've talked about this a million times before.  If you don't want to be with Jan - you shouldn't have to be but I'm sorry to tell you it's not incestuous.  I really doubt Jan is your sister - or even your cousin."

"But don't you see this??"  He stands up and flutters the paper wildly.  "It's right here in black and white.  It's Gould!!"

"Michael, her last name is Levinson.  Gould was her ex-husband's name."

"Oh."  Realization washes over him as he falls back in his chair, completely defeated.

"Yeah.  Sorry.  But look on the bright side."  Pam's eyes begin to twinkle as she continues.  "You might be kinda related to Spuds Mackenzie."

"Excellent point Pam."  His face brightens considerably.  "Excellent point."

"You have to believe we are magic." Olivia Newton-John.  You know, I have always believed I've had magic inside me.  Not a day goes by when I don't consult the mystical forces for their sage advice.   Like today.  I consulted this 8 ball before I had my lunch.  I asked about the pickled elk Dwight tried to make me eat and it said "Outlook not so good."  So I went with that container of egg salad I found in the fridge instead.  I gotta tell you.  This thing never lets me down.

If only I'd consulted the 8 ball before I invited Jan to Jamaica...

Jim crunches on a carrot.  "So.  It's been over a week.  Who are we up to now?" 

Pam blushes slightly and reaches over to snag one for herself.  "You've got such healthy eating habits..." 

"I can thank the person who made my lunch for that."  He replies with a smile.

"Wow.  Someone makes your lunch?  Lucky you."

"Yeah."  He slides his hand over her knee and gives a quick squeeze.  "Lucky me."

Pam pushes back the chair to get out of his reach. "Stop it."

He feigns innocence.  "Stop what?" 

She glares at him.  "Jim."

"What?  Everyone knows already."  He gestures towards the camera and laughs at the look on her face.

"Not the point."  Pam shifts further away from him.

Jim continues to laugh.  "Pam.  C'mon..."

"Not the point."  She says again, but he can tell she's trying to keep a straight face.  "Do you need a dictionary?  I believe the word I used was repulsive."  She laughs and then meets his eyes, her voice soft and serious.  "So...as I was saying, we're now revisiting the Scott brothers..."

He crunches on another carrot.  "Ten bucks he's totally related to the toilet paper guys."

"I will not take that bet.  I'm sure you're right."  Pam shakes her head at him.

"And they're the most likely to provide him with a fortune..."

"Exactly.  But he'd rather be related to a dog...or today's latest...Scotty from Star Trek."

"Let me guess...Dwight..."

"Sometimes I'm not sure if he understands these things aren't real..."

"You mean Narnia is not an actual place?"

"I hate to break it to you..."  Pam's laughter trails off when she spies something out of the corner of her eye.   "Michael?"

"Hi."  He mumbles as he slumps into the chair across from them.

"What's wrong?"  Jim asks.

"Did you ever want something so badly that you couldn't stand to get up every morning and not have it?"

Jim catches Pam's eyes with his own and holds her gaze.  His voice sounds tight as he replies.  "I'm familiar."

"I wanted Jan and now I have her and I think she might just want me for my money."

"Umm...Michael?"

"Yes Jim?"

"I'm pretty sure I have a good idea what you make, so I think it's safe to say you really don't have any money to speak of."

"I might."  He snaps back.  "Inheritance..."

"Yes.  Okay."  Jim nods.  "But...you've been dating Jan for quite a while."

"Don't remind me."

Jim bites back a laugh.  "So I don't think you can say she wants you for your money."

"You have no idea, Jim."  Michael's voice lowers to a whisper.  "I have a..."  He looks at Pam and then back at Jim.  "Can she be trusted?"

"Umm.  I'm sitting right here."  Pam sighs.

"I'm just saying since I can't trust you to knock first..."

Pam shivers.  "Trust me.  I did not want to see that."

Jim hurries to diffuse the conversation.  "Okay.  C'mon.  Of course you can trust us. You know that."  He smiles softly.  "What's going on?"

"I've been keeping a secret from Jan."

Jim's eyes widen as he meets Pam's.  He nods solemnly towards Michael, urging him to continue.  "Okay..."

"And it hasn't been easy.  She's all into everything.  She's into my dresser drawers, my closets, my pants..."

Pam shivers again. "Michael."

"We did ask for this."  Jim shrugs.

"We didn't ask for that."  Pam clarifies.   "OK.  What's the secret you're keeping from Jan?"

Michael leans back, his mouth turned down in a bit of a pout.  "You know.  I'm not sure I should tell you, since you two were secretly dating right under my nose..."

"Well you don't have to tell us if you don't want to."  Jim replies as he stuffs the remains of his lunch in a bag.  "Shall we Pam?"

"Sure."

Michael senses he's losing his audience and is not about to let it happen.  "No.  OK.  I'll tell you.  Here it is."  He exhales with a loud whoosh, leaning close to whisper.  "I have a secret Swedish Bank Account."

Jim looks at Pam, his eye brows raised in amusement.  "Swedish?"

"Yes."

"You don't mean Swiss?"

"No, Jim.  I mean Swedish.  They are much more secure."

"Says who?"

"My financial advisor."

"You have a financial advisor?"

"Yes."  Michael gives Jim an incredulous look. 

"And where did you find this advisor?"

"Jim.  Does it matter?"

"Kind of.  Because I don't mean to alarm you Michael, but a few years ago a bunch of their ATMs were hacked..."

"Well I don't use their ATMs so there's nothing to worry about.  And - if you must know I found him at the supermarket."

"At the supermarket?  Did you meet him there?"

"No."

"So how exactly did he begin to advise you?"

"I called him.  There was this flyer on the bulletin board and I pulled one of those little tags with the phone number."

Of course.  Jim shakes his head.  "I see."   

Michael can see the doubt in Jim's eyes and begins to lose his tenuous patience.  "It was very colorful."

"Flyer design is very important, especially when you're deciding what to do with your money."  Jim had started this conversation in jest but he's beginning to get concerned.  Michael, no matter how inane he can be, does not deserve to be bankrupted by some supermarket advertising financial advisor.  "How much is in this account Michael?"

"About twelve hundred."

Pam sighs with relief.  "That's it?  Just twelve hundred dollars."

"Well, twelve hundred in Swedish money."

"OK..."  Jim looks at Pam in confusion before he realizes Michael is still talking. 

"Can you believe it?  I gave him two hundred and fifty bucks a month ago and it's already quadrupled."

"Actually that's..."  Jim began.  He trails off when Pam rests a hand on his arm and shakes her head. 

She leans close and whispers.  "Don't bother trying to make sense of it.  I can almost guarantee that's probably just the current exchange rate."

"You think?"

"Well, first of all - it's Michael..."  She trails off.

Jim doesn't need to hear another word.  He smiles and takes a sip of his soda.  "Fair enough."

Just then, the door to the break room flies open.  "Michael!"

"Not now Dwight."  Michael's voice is barely audible as he rests his head on his arms.

"But I have some important information for you."  Dwight replies. 

"OK.  Spill it." Michael slowly moves to sit upright.

Dwight surveys the room before he speaks again.  "It's something better told in private." 

"Dwight.  How many times do I have to tell you this is a team effort?  Are you part of the team?"  Michael snaps back.

Dwight stands up straighter and stares at Michael intently.  "Only if I can be captain."

"No.  You can't be captain.  If anyone is captain...You know what Dwight?  Just forget it."  He stands and walks quickly towards the door.  Jim gives Pam a nod and they both start to follow.

Desperate to be heard Dwight yells out.  "You were named after a wizard!!" 

"What?!" They reply in unison.

Dwight waves a sheet of paper towards them.  "Michael Scott the Wizard.  He lived during the 13th Century.  He was a philosopher, alchemist and astrologer.  He went to Oxford and spent a lot of time in Italy."

Michael stares at the print out and grins widely.  "This must be why I love pasta so much."

Pam smiles.  "Must be."

"This is fantastic." Michael's eyes are wide as saucers.   "Could he make a car disappear? Like David Copperfield?"

Dwight studies the print out intently.  "Umm.  That is undetermined at this time."

"I'm sure he did."  Jim scratches his chin.  "I mean, he was a wizard after all."

Pam smacks him playfully on the arm. 

Michael's excitement at this news nearly crackles in the air around him.  "Do you think he made any money back then?  I mean...look at that those guys who play Vegas.  The best magicians can make a bundle."

"I'm not sure he was that kind of wizard."  Pam knows her attempt to make him see reason will most likely fall on deaf ears.

Michael presses the paper Dwight has produced to his chest.  His eyes brim with tears. 

"This makes sense.  When I read that first Harry Potter book, I felt connected to him.   At first I thought it was because the way he described his room sounded a lot like the one I had when Jeff moved in with my mom.  But now I know."  He looks at the page again.  "This is why."

With that, Michael walks slowly towards the door.  Pam clutches at Jim's sleeve as they watch him leave. 

"Just to explore other possibilities I cross referenced against Merlin's known descendents..."  They can hear Dwight saying as he dutifully follows behind.

She turns and finally lets out the laugh she's been trying to contain.  "OK, this is funny now, but you know it is not going to end well."

Jim places a hand on his heart as he tries to keep his own laughter at bay.  "Pam.  I promise.   I'll be there to save you when he offers to saw you in half."

"I told you not to come in today."  Pam whispers at Jim as he walks into the office.

"And I would have loved to stay home, but it's a sad day Pam."  He gives her a grin.  "I actually have work to do."

"Well.  You can't say I didn't warn you."

"Nope.  Definitely can't say that. You warned me when the alarm went off.  Annnd...when I was in the shower, annnd at breakfast."  He drops his bag near his chair and shrugs his jacket off.  "I got the warning, Pam."

"And still you chose to ignore it." She shakes her head in disbelief.

"I know.  All this valuable information that I can't take advantage of.  I'm lucky to be dating a double agent."  He grins wider.

"He's not going to leave you alone." Pam tries again.

"That's the chance I'll have to take." Jim trails off when Michael steps out of his office and stares straight at him.

"He has arrived.  The man, the myth, the legend..."

"Heeeeyy Michael."

"James.  Jimmy.  Jimnastics."

"Let's try just Jim."  Jim shrugs.  "You know...something original."

Michael ignores him.  "We are kindred spirits, my friend."

Jim sits down, defeated.   "I don't think we really are."

"Eons ago, in the land before time.  It was your ancestors, my ancestors, and the dinosaurs..."

"Dinosaurs huh?  Are you saying it's like a modern stone age family?"

"Exactly.  Jim.  Brace yourself."  Michael can barely contain his excitement.  "I've always suspected - but now - here's concrete proof.  There seems to be a Halpert branch on my family tree."

"Really don't think so."

"It's true.  Our family limbs are intertwined.  It's right here in black and white.  My casa is your casa - so to speak.   The point is - it's official.  You and I - we are brethren."

Jim looks up and catches Pam's eye watching in desperation as she mouths,  "I told you so."

"It is not conclusive.  The name could have been Halpern or Haplert.  I need to look into it further."  Dwight interjects.  "On the other hand Michael - there seems to be a large contingency of Schulte's intersecting with Scotts in the mid 19th century..." He stands straighter and tugs at the hem of his suit jacket.  "Schulte.... Schrute.  I believe there is a connection there."

"Get it through your thick skull Dwight - you're barking up the wrong tree.   Get it?  Tree, family tree..." Michael laughs heartily at his own joke, his expression turning serious in an instant.  "Face the facts.  Jim and I...we've always been similar.  Pam.  You can see that can't you?"

Pam stares at him, looking almost terrified, wondering what he could possibly mean by that.

"Um..." She begins.  "I wouldn't say similar..."

"C'mon.  It's obvious.   First of all we are both above average in height."

Jim looks down at Michael and shrugs at Pam.  Michael notices the exchange and quickly amends.  "Well I used to be."

"When?"  Jim asks.

"In sixth grade."  Michael replies.  "Still counts.  We're also both snappy dressers.  This tie, for instance, is from the Donald J. Trump Signature Collection.  Because to make money you have to look like you have money..." He smiles at Jim.  "Jim knows what I'm talking about.  We have the exact same taste.  You got that tie at Macy's right?"

Jim shakes his head as he gazes down at his tie, running his hand along the length of it.  It was actually a new one.  Today is the first time he's worn it.   "I - um..."

"Banana Republic."  Pam offers.  "The outlet, actually.  They have a great selection at the end of the season."  She smiles as Jim's eyes meet hers.

"Then your pants are from Macy's..."

Jim stuffs his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels.  "I believe it was the Gap?"

Pam nods and grins wider.

"Shirt?"

"Um...nope."

Exasperated, Michael throws up his hands.  "Tell me this.  Have you ever been to Macy's Jim?"

The only other person who he's discussed clothing with for this length of time was Kelly - and then it was all about whether or not Ryan noticed what she was wearing. 

Jim nods.  "Yes.  I have been to Macy's."

"OK then."  Michael sighs with relief.  "Now Pam."  He turns in her direction and gives her a grin.  "Name another way Jim and I are identical."

"Michael..."

"I mean - you know."  He lowers his voice.  "Besides the obvious..."

Pam wearily rubs at her temples wondering just how many more times Michael is going to make mention of their little "encounter."

"It shouldn't be so hard...that's what she said...how about our mad b-ball skills?"

"You both have a certain flair on the court - that's true."  She replies, trying not to snicker.

"And we are both killer at karaoke."

"Also true.  As a matter of fact - you should do more duets."

Jim's eyes widen.  The look he gives her says "Thanks for that."

The nod she gives him clearly states "Don't mention it."

Dwight can't stand by and listen a moment longer.  "None of this has any real relevance as far as DNA is concerned.  All I need is a simple cotton swab and I can conduct a test to confirm what I know for a fact is true.   I predict there is no match whatsoever."

"Well Dwight - I predict your prediction is false."  Michael counters.  "Jim.  Step into my office please.   Family meeting."

Dwight shakes his head disapprovingly.  "Michael.  Until it is scientifically proven - Jim is not your family."

Jim sighs and hangs his head as takes a step in Michael's direction.    "This'll be quick - right?  Because I've got a pretty busy day here..."

"Don't worry.   Blood is thicker than paper Jim.   If you miss out on a sale or two - I've totally got your back." 

As the door clicks shut behind him Jim checks his watch.  "That's great to know.  So..."

Michael talks right over him.  "Besides soon you won't need any commission.  Tell me Jimbo.  How much you have saved?"

Jim blinks.  "Excuse me?"

Michael's voice lowers as he sits behind the desk.  "Got a little nest egg?  Stocking some money away to buy Pammy there a sparkler?"  He gives Jim a wink.  "Diamonds are a girl's best friend Jim."  He pauses, looking pensive as he continues.  "Well...diamonds, Cabernet Sauvignon and sometimes a Jaeger chaser.   But Jan says that's only on weeknights."

Jim scratches his head, still boggled by their whole dynamic.  He tries to get Michael to regain focus. "So, what's the purpose of this meeting again?"

"The purpose is that once we find the fortune, I'll be sharing the wealth with my loved ones..." Michael beams.  "And that, now, of course, includes you.  Oh fyi - the family reunion's usually in August.  If I were you I wouldn't eat the potato salad.  And watch out for where Aunt Lila leaves her teeth..."

Jim looks utterly fascinated, though it's clear from the smirk he's trying to hide that he's confident he'll be busy most of August.  And maybe July, just to be safe.

It seems Michael is still talking.  "We'll use my account - and of course - my advisor - since you don't have one of your own.  Here is the pin..." He scribbles a code on sheet of paper and shoves it across the desk towards Jim.

"5-4-3-2-1?" 

"I've researched this.  The most common passwords are the easiest to figure out - like 1,2,3,4,5 for instance.  But by reversing the order of the numbers - you completely fake them out."

"Yeah.  That'll fool pretty much everybody."  Jim nods his head in mock agreement.  "Well I don't know what to say.  This is really generous of you Michael."  

"I'm a generous guy, especially with my next of kin.   Only, there's one condition.  Since this whole thing was my idea we'll split anything we get 30/60."

Jim's mouth twists as he takes that bit of information in.  "Okay.  Thirty and sixty is ninety. Where'd the other ten percent go?" 

Michael's breath comes out in a huff as he leans back in his chair.  "Jan says if anything comes from this "asinine idea of mine" she gets a cut.  I tried to talk her out of it - but she's mean when she wants to be.  She also says she'll...withhold things.  Things I've become very...attached to.   If you want to give Pam some of your take that's all on you."

Jim looks over his shoulder to see Dwight's face pressed against the glass.  He can practically feel him seething with jealousy on the other side of the door.    This whole thing is absolutely too good to be true, but of course, not for the reasons Michael thinks.  

"I appreciate your thinking of me."

"Anytime my brother." Michael grins from ear to ear.  "...from another mother..."

"Right.  OK.  Well.  Thanks again."  Jim quietly exits Michael's office.   As he does, Dwight accosts him almost immediately.  

"What exactly were you two discussing in there?"  He demands, clearly agitated.

"Oh you know.  The weather.  How the Eagles are faring this season..." Jim shrugs as he sinks into his chair and switches his monitor on.  "World domination.  The usual."

"Not a laughing matter, Jim.  This is exactly why you are not deserving of such an honor.  You are weak, and you know what happens to the weak in the wild."

"They inherit the earth?"  Jim's face is full of innocence.  "No wait.  I think that's the meek."

"No.  The weak get eaten.  It's survival of the fittest.  Always has been, always will be.  You think you're going to ride Michael's coattails but you are wrong."  He takes his seat and gives Jim another menacing glare.  "I am not supposed to share this - but I'll have you know I have ties to a top level government agency.  I'll call in a favor and trust me.  I will get to the bottom of this."

Jim's eyes light up as they meet Pam's.  She nods, her fingers flying over the keyboard with breakneck speed.  

It appears Special Agent Dwight K. Schrute is about to embark on a new and dangerous mission.

Reincarnation.  I don't know much about it but I was talking to Kelly's parents when we went to that Diwali thing and it sounds like it's not a bad idea.   If I ever was going to come back in another life I'd be…someone like…Hugh Hefner.  He's got a huge mansion, all those beautiful women.   I mean there are boobs everywhere.  And not just the same set every day.  There are all different kinds.  He's got like twelve girlfriends and I think they're all named Brandi.  Which is good - because then he doesn't get in trouble for calling one of them the wrong name, when he really shouldn't.  I've made that mistake.  It is not fun.  

But seriously. Think about it.  Hugh Hefner.  That’s like a dozen boobs a day that he gets to touch. 

For free. 

Of course.  I'd also maybe like to come back as John Travolta.   That might be easier since we already have the same dance moves.  

xoxoxo 

The door to the office swings open, nearly falling off its hinges.  Pam looks up for a moment and immediately looks back down again.

"It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, Lady Pamelyn."

She nods.  "It sure is Michael."

"Would you be mine, won't you be my neighbor?"   He sways back and forth as he sings.

Pam barely blinks before she replies.  "No." 

"Oh c'mon.  You actually could be you know.  The condo next door to mine and Jan's is up for sale.   Perfect little love nest for you two lovebirds."

Jim leans back in his chair and raises his eyebrows.  He taps a pen against his lips as he asks.  "Really.   What's it like?"

Pam simply stares at him bewildered.  

Michael's face lights up like a Christmas tree.  "Well - it's just like mine.   Two bedrooms.  two and a half baths.   Except - Jan uses the second bedroom as a closet now and I've never found that half a bathroom they keep talking about.  It looks like we have three to me..."  He sighs heavily.  "I pretty sure Carol tricked me.  It'd be just like her.  Anyway I've had to move half my stuff into storage.  So if you move in next door maybe I could store it over at your place.  Pam's car isn't very big - you'll have space in the garage…"

"A condominium is a foolish investment." Dwight interrupts his voice full of disdain.  "Acreage is important.  The land sustains life and houses the dead…"

"Wait."  Jim raises his hand.  "Are you saying the farm has its own cemetery?"

"Well - it used to."  Dwight replies.

"Used to?  What happened to it?"  Jim shakes his head.  "You know what?  Nevermind.  I do not want to know."

"It was the result of an unfortunate plowing incident.  The FDA became involved.  It's classified - I'm not really at liberty to talk about it."

"Fair enough."  Jim nods and turns back to his sales reports.

"But if I were going to talk about it…" Dwight continues.  "I would have to tell you that our beet crop has never looked better."

Pam looks horrified as Jim stifles a laugh. "OK then.  Congratulations." 

"So anyway.  Pam. Jim.  I am inviting you over to my condo for dinner and so you big city kids can see for yourselves what life is like in the 'burbs.  Jan got a new crock pot for Christmas.   She makes this really great chicken with a can of Diet Dr Pepper…"

Pam shivers.  "That sounds…delicious."

"So it's settled.  Friday night.  Eight o'clock."

Jim tries to call out after him.  "Ummm.  Michael.  We can't…" but it's too late.  As Michael makes his way to his office Jim's phone rings.

"Jim Halpert."

"OK.  Hear me out.  I don't think it's that bad an idea."

"I'm sorry. Who's calling?"

"JIM."

"Wow.  What a coincidence.  We have the same name.  Funny.  You don't sound like a Jim."

She ignores him.  "I think we should have dinner at Michael's on Friday night."

"Um.  Pam?  It's really cruel to make me be the one to remind you of your date with certain football player..."

She blushes slightly at his teasing.  "No seriously.  He's not going to stop asking…"

He swivels in his chair and nods.  "And if we go over there he'll never let us leave."

"OK but…we survived the beet farm…"

He laughs and then lowers his voice to a whisper.  "That's because you were there to hold me.  That whole night I was terrified…"

A smile blooms over her face at the memory.  "I don't know.  I guess I'm just kind of feeling sorry for him all of the sudden…"

"Well you need to toughen up, Beesly."

"I know."

"I'm not sure we're going to make it if this type of thing continues."

"I'll make it up to you."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Jim turns back to his computer screen and begins to type.  "I need details please."

"No.  Goodbye."   Pam picks up a pile of papers and begins to sort through them.  Two can play at this game.

She can hear the grin, not to mention the mild frustration, in his voice.  "C'mon."

"No."  She giggles.  "Not here."

"That's not what you said the other day."

"If you keep harassing me like this I'm going to Toby."

"If you keep saying stuff like that I'm going to start to think there's something going on there..."

Pam shakes her head and bites back a laugh. "Jim.  There's only one guy you have to worry about…"

"I think you should be the one who's worried.   Riggins is a poor, innocent, high school student.  And I hate to break it to you Mary Kay - that means he's also underage…"

Her cheeks turn a deeper shade of crimson.   "OK.  He's anything but innocent.  But either way - no one's going to be reporting anything to Toby today.   He called in…"

"Oh yeah?" Concern fills Jim's voice.  "Is Sasha OK?"

"Yeah.  I think she's fine.  It was really weird.   He called this morning from what sounded like the airport.   He said there was a death in the family.  His great uncle or something…"

Dwight clears his throat and picks up his phone.   Pam puts Jim on hold when she hears the other line ring.

"Dunder Mifflin this is…"

"Pam."

"Dwight."

"You should get back to work." 

"I'm trying.  I'd be able to if people who are actually in this office would stop calling me."

"You called Jim."

"And then you called me."  She does not want to get into an argument with him.   "Dwight.  What do you need?"

"Do you have today's obituaries?"

"I do."  Pam sighs as she watches Jim answer another call.  They'll have to finish that discussion later.   She hangs up the phone and walks to Dwight carrying a bright yellow folder in her hands.  "Can I ask you something Dwight?  How much longer are we going to work on this thing for Michael?  Researching all this stuff - it's starting to get a little morbid."

"Pam.  Fact.  Everyone will die someday.  Except me of course.  One word.  Cryogenics."

She should have known.   "Of course.  So.  You're going to freeze yourself?"

"Yes.  The week before I die I am having the procedure done."

"How do you know…"  Pam begins, realizing as the words leave her mouth that she really does not want to hear the answer.

"Death Predictor.com.   You type your birth date and a few other details and it can predict your actual death with at least 85 percent accuracy."

"Well good luck with that Dwight."

"I don't need luck.  I have science."

"Good science then."  Pam says, rolling her eyes a bit as she makes her way back to her desk.

xoxoxo

As he walks back from the break room munching on a bag of chips, Jim watches Pam pacing by Michael's office door, nibbling on her nails.

"You look worried."

"Yeah.  I sort of am."

He runs a hand over the small of her back as he tries to get her to stand still.  "What's the matter?"

"Michael's mom called.  She sounded really upset.  I think someone in their family passed away."

Jim stops mid crunch and studies her face.  "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Huh.  So Michael might just get his inheritance."

"I guess."  Pam takes a deep breath, her voice trembling slightly when she speaks again.  "I mean, this whole thing started as kind of a joke, but now it seems like Michael might actually have lost a relative."

"I guess we'll…"  Jim trails off as the door to Michael's office swings open.

"Pam, go find Angela.  We need a cake.  And streamers.   And everyone has the rest of the day off.   It's like Martin Luther King Jr Day, only better.  I am free at last."

"What's going on Michael?"

"Ding dong the witch is dead!"  Michael prances around in a circle, waving his hands above his head.  He hooks his arm through Dwight's and swings him around.

"Who died exactly?"  Jim asks, tossing the now empty bag of chips in the wastebasket.

"Jeff.  My evil step…friend."

"You mean step-father."

"He was not my father."

Jim holds his hands up to try and calm Michael down a bit.  "OK - but…"

Dwight shakes his head.   "He'd be a warlock Michael - not a witch.   Witches are women.  He'd be a warlock or a wizard…"

He waves him off.   "Witch, wizard, whatever.  He is gone.  And he was loaded.  So it seems my inheritance is impotent."

Pam can't believe after all this time it'll be quite this easy for Michael to get what he wants.   And she knows full well who will have to deal with the consequences.

"Michael - I mean - just the way you are talking about him here, it doesn't seem to me you two were particularly close…"

He will not be swayed.  "Oh Pam.  Please.  It'll happen.  I am sure of it."

"I'm sure too.  Of the opposite."  Pam says under her breath, loud enough for Jim to hear. 

"Are you going to the funeral?" Jim asks Michael then.

"I don't think so.  It's all the way in Boca Raton.  Did you know that means rat's mouth?  That makes sense that he ended up there.  Jeff always looked a little like a rat to me.  Especially those whiskers…"  Michael wiggles his fingers near his nose to demonstrate.  He takes Pam by the arms and shakes her a bit.  "Enough talking.  It's time to party!"

Pam watches Michael and Dwight disappear into the conference room.   Andy and Kevin follow behind as Stanley and Phyllis go back to work without so much as missing a beat.

"What's that look for?"  Jim nudges her with his elbow as they make their way back to her desk.

"I just…it's weird.  I'm thinking about Toby…"

Jim tilts his head to the side and regards her carefully.  "Aaand now I'm beginning to get jealous.   Pam.  I mean if you're dissatisfied here and want to start to look elsewhere - branch out.  There's a whole world outside Dunder-Mifflin."

Pam narrows her eyes at him.  "You should talk."

He nods solemnly.  "Touché.  Beesly.   Touché."

"And we'll talk about my satisfaction later."  She smiles smugly when Jim stares back at her, his mouth agape.  She smacks his arm.  "No. Seriously.   Listen to me.   I could have sworn Toby said he was going to Florida, because his Great-Uncle Jeff had died…"

It's difficult for Jim to concentrate but he's finally able to refocus on the conversation.  His eyes widen.  "NO.  It can't be…"

"It can be though.  I mean, think of Michael's luck…"

"Good point." 

"OK.  So.  How do we tell him?"

"Tell him he's kind of related to Toby?   Of all the people in the office?"    Jim shakes his head.  "We can't do that.  Hell.  I'd rather go back to being related to him…"

"He's still not convinced you aren't you know.   When I was at lunch he wanted to know if we lived next door and both had kids if they would turn out to be cousins..."

"Wow.  We're having like fifteen different conversations right now…"   He pulls at his collar and clears his throat.  "Do we want to talk about Michael, your sudden fascination with Toby, or you and me moving in together?"

"We're not moving…"  There's a look in his eye that has her trailing off a bit.   "Are we really having this discussion right now?"

"No."  His eyes meet hers and hold.  "But maybe later?"

She sounds a bit breathless as she replies.  "Yeah.  Sure.  Later."

Michael comes racing over, clearly interrupting the moment, and not noticing in the least.  "PAM.  I want to declare today an official office holiday so I guess for once I actually need Toby.   Someone said he's not in today.   Where is he?  A divorce convention?"

Pam blinks and turns to reply to him.  "No.  There was um…a death in his family.   His uncle…"

"I don't care about his uncle.   Man…that is just like him - always off somewhere, never at his desk doing his job."

"Michael.  Tell me something.  What was Jeff's last name?"

Michael blows out a breath and sighs, clearly exasperated.  "I don't know.  Flanderson or something."

Jim winces.  "You're sure it wasn't Flenderson?"

"No I'm not sure.  Look.  I've tried to block out a lot about that time in my life.  Jan says Dr. Perry thinks it's important to live "in the now" and my mom never changed her name."

"OK.  Well.  Michael it's just that…"  Pam leans a little closer to Jim to try and steady herself.  The fact that she hates giving bad news is written all over her face.  "Toby's Great-Uncle died today too.  And his name was Jeff…"

"Michael.  After all this, you are related to Toby."  Dwight interjects, not allowing Pam to soften the blow.  

Wide eyed with shock, Michael shakes his head vehemently.  "No I am not." 

"But you might be…" Jim offers.

"NO.  I might not be."   Michael bends at the waist and begins to hyperventilate.  "I need a plastic bag…"

"I think you mean a paper bag…"  Pam pushes a chair close so Michael can sit down and pleads at Jim with her eyes for him to go check the break room.

"No Pam.  A plastic one.  So I can suffocate myself.   I refuse to be related to Toby…"

"It's OK.  You really aren't though."   She replies, her voice as soothing as possible as she settles him in the chair.   She takes the cup of water Jim brought back with him and tries to give it to Michael.   "He is only related by marriage…"

"Oh right.  Let me tell you something.  That's not even true.  That marriage was a total farce.  Jeff was already married to a woman in Tulsa and another one in Santa Fe when he met my mom.   He was a total misogynist…"

Jim shakes his head.  "I think you mean polygamist."

"Whatever Jim.   This is awful.  All I know now is I'm not related to Spuds Mackenzie, or George C. Scott or Ryan or anyone remotely cool.  I'm not even related to you…"  Michael sounds desolate.  "I'm related to Toby.  This is even worse than being related to Dwight…"

"It wouldn't be that bad…"  Dwight is dejected as he stares at the floor.  "If we were related you could stay at the farm anytime you wanted for free.   I'd even rename the Irrigation Room after you…"

"I'm ruined…"  Michael begins to sniffle.   "I can't go on…"

"I can't believe I'm going to do this."  Jim mutters as he glances at Pam, knowing he won't able to resist the look on her face.  

He takes a deep steadying breath.  "Michael.  If it makes you feel better - Pam and I will come by for dinner on Friday…"

At the sound of that Michael's face brightens immediately.  "Really?  You will?   Will you sing karaoke?  I just bought a new adapter for my Atari.  It's like that Rock Band thing but way better.  They only sell it in Saskatchewan.   You know they're way ahead of us with that stuff over in Asia…"

At this point, Jim doesn't even have it in him to correct him.  "Sure.  Michael."  He nods and then grins when he sees Pam mouth "Thank you."

Miraculously recovered, Michael keeps talking a mile a minute as he walks with Jim and Pam back towards his office, leaving a disappointed Dwight in his wake.  

"You guys can bring the wine.  I don't know what kind of wine goes with Dr Pepper Chicken, but I think Jan pretty much'll drink anything.   It's true.  I actually watched her take a sip from a bottle of raspberry vinaigrette one night…"

xoxoxo

 I am like an explorer.  I set out on unchartered waters to seek my treasure and though it's not quite what I thought I'd find in the beginning, I have found my fortune.   It was the strangest thing.   A couple of months ago, Pam gave me this certificate.  It came in an envelope, all completely official.   Apparently, due to my heritage, I am entitled to 50 cents off Scott Tissue for life.  Sometimes I get it off a single pack, sometimes it's whenever I buy four or more rolls. But the point is - I've gotten one every week since then.   

Now I finally understand. I've always felt a sort of connection,  you know, every time I…um…went number two…I kept wondering about the guy or guys who made it all possible.  And now I know.   I am that guy.   Or…am at least related to the guys.   Either way.   I think I've finally found where I belong. So, I may not be rolling in dough, but it seems that I will now be rolling in paper. 

And not just any paper.  Extra soft and two-ply.    

And that, my friends, is really what it's all about.