She finds her grandfather in his office - his special quiet place - with a freezer pack on his face.

She makes sure to whisper. "Grandpa?"

He doesn't move, so she slips through the door and closes it.

"Grandpa?"

One of his fingers twitches. She approaches and tugs tentatively on his sleeve.

"Grandpa?"

"Ye-e-es?"

She has to be careful. She knows what she wants, but she needs to butter him up a bit.

"How's your head?"

"Your grandmother's killing me."

"Oh." She spins one of his cufflinks between her fingers. He's wearing the silvery ones with the black Hs on them. They're her favorites.

He lifts the freezer pack from one eye. "What can I do for you?" She's wearing the blue pajamas with the yellow stars. They're his favorites.

She looks up from under her lashes.

"Will you tell me a story?"

"A bedtime story?"

She looks down again. "Or a longer one." She keeps her eyes on his cufflink. "I'm not very sleepy."

"Hmmm."

"Please?"

"I don't know, it's pretty late."

"Pretty please?" Her lashes flutter. He caves.

"Well... I guess we could do one story." He lifts her into the big leather chair beside him. "What kind of -"

"The True Love story!" She's bouncing.

"True Love story..." He squints as though thinking. "...I don't think I know any of those."

"Yes, you do!"

He knows what she's talking about, but he holds out. "I do?"

"Yeah, the one about Pam and Jim! You know, the True Love story."

He eyes her suspiciously. "Sounds like I've already told it to you."

"Oh... well, I've forgotten it mostly. You could tell me again." Flutter, flutter.

He sets the freezer pack aside. "Oh, alright. The True Love story."

"Yay," she whispers, and closes her eye so she can picture it better.

He smiles a little. It is a good story. "Let's see... how does it begin?..."

Once upon a time, in the land of Scranton, there was a receptionist named Pam.

Pam worked in a dull, gray office, where she answered the phone, sent and received faxes, and generally tried to forget that her life was phones and faxes.

In this same office, there worked a salesman named Jim. Jim's days were also filled with phone calls. He sold paper. And he was good at it. In fact, Jim could sell paper in his sleep. He was bored a lot.

Jim soon discovered that Pam was often bored, too. So they put their heads together and came up with ways to pass the time. This usually involved playing pranks on a salesman named -

"Dwight!"

"See? You already know this story."

"No, no, I forget the rest. Keep going."

"Please..."

"Please?"

"Okay. Where was I?"

"Pranks on Dwayne."

"Nice try."

Pranks on Dwight. This was a lot of fun because pranks made Dwight angry, and when Dwight was angry, he would make funny faces and shout and stomp around.  This helped Jim and Pam forget how boring their jobs were, so they tried to prank Dwight at least once a week.

While they schemed, Jim began to notice things about Pam. Some were big things, like how smart she was, or that she could draw well. And some were little things, like how she always licked her yogurt lid, or that she hummed when she thought no one was listening.

Also, Pam was very pretty.  It was a sneaky kind of pretty, because she didn't wear fancy clothes or jewelry or makeup, and some people didn't notice it. But Jim did.

Pretty soon, Jim realized he loved Pam.

Of course, this was a problem because Pam had baggage.

"What's baggage?"

"Baggage is what you bring with you."

"Huh?"

"You'll see."

You see, Pam already had a boyfriend. In fact, she was supposed to marry him, but she wasn't sure that was ever going to happen. Sometimes, it seemed like he had forgotten there was supposed to be a wedding. Still, she waited.

In the meantime, she grew closer to Jim. After all, he made her laugh, and he remembered important things (and not-so-important things), and she felt smart and talented and pretty when he was around.

Sometimes, even though she knew it was wrong, Pam took advantage of Jim.

She'd ask him to help her with a computer program, or carry something to her car, or get something for her from a high shelf. And Jim would.

He never pointed out that Pam already knew how to use spreadsheets, or that the box wasn't that heavy, or the shelf that high. He would just do what she asked and smile, and say, simply,

"As you wish."

And each time, Pam wondered if maybe she had the wrong boyfriend.

Then, one night, when Pam was feeling very smart and very pretty, Jim told her how he felt.

"I'm in love with you," he said.

"I can't," she said.

Then Jim walked away, and Pam worried that she had lost her best friend.

But Jim didn't give up.  He found her again a few minutes later, in the office, and when she tried to say something again, he... he, uh...

"What? He what?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Grandpa! What did he do?"

"You don't wanna hear about it. It's... kissing."

"I do! I do!"

"Really?"

"Yes! Please, Grandpa, please, please, please? Please, Grandpa?"

"You want to hear the kissing parts."

"Please, please, please..."

"Oh, boy."

"...please..."

"Alright..."

"Yay!"

"...but don't get any ideas."

"I won't!"

"Right."

Jim found Pam in the office, and she tried to say something to him, but he didn't hear her, and she didn't finish, because he kissed her. Just swooped in and shut her right up.

And that doesn't always work, by the way. But it worked this time, because this was a special kind of kiss, and Jim and Pam were both surprised when Pam kissed him back.

Several minutes later, when they finished kissing, they stood smiling at one another.

Jim said, "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

And Pam said, "Me, too."

But when Jim tried to kiss her again, Pam stopped him.

He looked into her eyes, and asked if she was still going to marry her boyfriend.  When she nodded yes, Jim thought his heart might break, but he nodded back, and squeezed her hands before letting them go.

"As you wish."

And for the second time that night, Jim walked away.

*  *  *

Now, Pam had been the only thing holding Jim to Scranton. So when she turned him down,...

"Two times!"

"I know."

"Pam was crazy."

"Shh!"

...Jim decided to seek his fortune in the land of Stamford. He would still be selling paper, but at least he wouldn't have to see Pam marry someone else. On the day of his going-away party, though, he made Pam a promise.

She waited until everyone had gone, then walked him to his car.

"What am I going to do without you?" she asked.

"You're going to marry him and be happy. And answer phones, and send and receive faxes."

"But who'll help me play pranks on Dwight?"

"You'll think of someone."

"They won't be as good as you."

"That's what she said."

She smiled. "I'll miss you, Jim."

And for a moment he was serious. "Listen. I'll always be here for you."

"How can I be sure?"

"Trust me, Pam." Then he smiled again. "Besides, we're BFFs. Do you think this happens every day?"

And that made her smile, so he kissed her quickly on the forehead and got into his car before her smile could fade.

As Jim drove away, Pam wondered if she would ever see him again.

*  *  *

When she came to work the next Monday, she half-expected to see him at his desk.

She didn't.

*  *  *

When she didn't get married after all, she thought she might hear from him.

She didn't.

*  *  *

When she heard he'd been promoted, she thought she might call him.

She didn't.

*  *  *

By the time she got tricked into Michael's awful contest, Pam had decided that Jim was gone for good.

One day, several months after Jim had left, Michael handed Pam a stack of papers to sign. Which was strange because usually it was Pam handing the papers to Michael. He told her it was part of Jan's new plan to oversee his work, that he needed someone to witness his daily reports to her. So Pam didn't bother to read them, just signed the bottom of each one.

She should have known by the way Michael was bouncing on his toes that he was up to something.

When she finished, he leafed through the sheets. "Excellent, excellent. Ah, here it is." He beamed at one sheet in particular.

Pam frowned. "There what is?"

Michael looked up quickly and smiled. "Oh. Nothing. Nothing at all, Pam." And he danced back to his office. Badly.

Pam forgot about it until later that afternoon when Michael stepped out of his office, triumphant.

"Everybody, can I have your attention, please? I want you to stop whatever you're doing and check your inboxes for a message called Contest." He was bouncing again.

Curious, Pam checked her email. She opened the message and clicked on a big link that said CLICK HERE. The website that popped up had a photo of Pam from that night she had felt so smart and pretty. She stared at her shiny blue dress and her smiling face, then read the words on the page. When she looked up, everyone was watching her.

Michael's eyebrows were waggling. "Eh? Pretty cool, huh?"

"Are you kidding?" Pam asked him.

"Nope! This is very serious, Pam. Serious and fun. And helpful!  All the money goes to charity, so... yes! Meredith!"

"You're going to auction off Pam?"

"No, we're not going to ‘auction off Pam'. Don't be stupid, this isn't a slave market. We're auctioning a date with Pam. Big difference."

Pam shook her head. "I'm not doing this, Michael."

"You've already agreed to it."

"No, I haven't."

"Oh, yes, you have. Right here." And Michael slid a piece of paper across the counter. It stated that Pam agreed to take part in the contest. Her signature was at the bottom.

"I wouldn't have signed this if I'd known what it was."

"Well, then, you should read things before you sign them, Pam. Are you careless with all of your job duties?"

Pam glared at Michael.

"Oh, come on! It'll be fun. And it'll get you back in the game! You're single now; you should be getting up to bat every inning!" Michael turned to go back to his office. "Be sure to register on the website, guys. You have to be registered to bid! Dwight? Kevin? Can I see you guys in my office?"

Pam watched Dwight and Kevin follow Michael into his office and close the door, then looked back at the website. She was surprised to see that there was already a bid. Maybe Michael was right. Maybe this was her chance to move on, meet someone new. She looked to see who had made the bid and gasped.

Suddenly, Pam didn't feel very well.

*  *  *  *  *

"Gentlemen, our services have been requested for a very important mission."

Dwight jumped. "I'll do it, Michael."

"Well, I hope so, because he's making it very much worth our while."

"Who is?" Kevin asked.

"Todd Packer," Michael said, enjoying their reactions. "That's right. Todd Packer wants to win this date with Pam, and we're going to help him."

Dwight scrunched his nose up. "Packer?"

"Yes?"

"But he's so... gross."

"What do you care? Were you going to bid on Pam?"

Dwight straightened his shoulders. "I already have a girlfriend."

"Sure, you do."

"But what if I wanted to bid on Pam?" Kevin asked.

"Right, Kevin. I really see that happening. Let me save you the trouble. Packer makes like double what you do. Where would you take her - Taco Bell? Please."

Kevin looked hurt, then remembered something. "What about Jim?"

"What about Jim? Nobody's heard from Jim in ages. He's too busy hanging out with Josh. Besides, Packer says he has that covered. Any more dumb questions?"

"No," said Kevin.

"Yes. Question. Not a dumb one. What is our mission, specifically?"

"Ah. Good question. Dwight, you're to monitor the incoming bids - keep an eye out for threats."

Dwight clicked his heels together. "Yes, Michael!"

"And Kevin, I want you to watch the people in this office - personally discourage anyone who might undermine the mission."

"Gotcha." Kevin cracked his knuckles.

"What will you do, Michael?"

"I will be supervising you two, and making sure that Pam doesn't chicken out."

Kevin frowned. "Does corporate know about this?"

"Yes... well... not exactly..."

"Well, wouldn't Jan get mad if-"

"Inconceptable. Besides, Kevin, I've already thought of that."

"Yeah, Kevin," Dwight said smugly.

Michael smiled and spread his hands. "I'd just tell her it was Stamford's idea. Then it'd be Josh's problem. All set? Duties clear? Great. Go." And he ushered them out.

Dwight went straight to his computer.

Kevin began to walk past Pam, then stopped. "You don't look so good."

Pam stared at Kevin a moment, then grabbed the signed contract and ran to the big paper shredder. She flipped it on.

"What are you doing?" Michael called from his office door.

Pam didn't listen. She shoved the edge of the paper into the shredder. But in her haste, the front of her sweater got caught in the shredder's teeth. They grabbed at the fabric, chewing it hungrily, twisting Pam around. She realized as she was pulled toward the grinding machine that it would soon grab her hair. But now the power switch was behind her - she couldn't reach it.

Just as Pam began to panic-

"Are you okay?"

"H-huh?!" She's clutching his shirt.

"You look worried."

"Oh, no... I'm not worried. Just a little... concerned."

"She doesn't get hurt, you know."

"She doesn't?"

"No."

"Whew. Okay. Thanks, Grandpa." She relaxes her grip.

"Sure. Okay, so..."

Just as Pam began to panic, the shredder died.

Kevin had pulled the plug. He stood holding it dumbly, as Michael rushed over.

"What are you doing?"

"Shredding the contract."

Michael laughed. "Nice try, Pam, and a little crazy. But that was a photocopy. I still have the original." He turned to Kevin. "Put that down and cut her out of there. Inconceptable."

So Kevin used scissors to cut Pam's cardigan just above the shredder. Pam sank into her chair and sighed. Her cardigan was ruined and TPacker still had the highest bid, which was $5. She began to lose hope.

Just then, Dwight perked up in his chair. "New registrant! Michael, new registrant! DPRoberts. Who's that?"

Michael shook his head. "Must be from another branch. See, Pam, they're already chomping at the bit!" Then he elbowed Dwight and whispered, "Not that it'll matter," to which Dwight giggled. "Keep an eye on it."

Pam read the new name. DPRoberts. It sounded familiar. She checked her corporate directory - no Robertses. Must be someone new, she thought.

Her computer beeped.

The bid had gone up $20. DPRoberts had raised it. Pam wondered if DPRoberts was at least cute. Then...

Beep. $30. TPacker.

Beep. $35. DPRoberts.

Beep. $40. TPacker.

Beep. $45. DPRoberts.

Beep. $50. TPacker.

Beep. $55. DPRoberts.

Beep. $60. DSchrute.

"Dwight!" Angela screeched.

"I was just trying to-"

Beep. $65. DPRoberts.

Beep. $70. TPacker.

Beep. $500. DPRoberts.

"Whoa!" said nearly everyone in the office.

Except Michael, who yelled, "Inconceptable!"

Dwight looked at him closely. "You keep saying that. I don't think it means... anything."

Pam sat back, shocked at the bid. And more than a little hopeful. Then she saw the note that accompanied it:

That should hold for a while. If anyone's up for a parry,

 meet me at VirtualSwordfight.com. Be ready to lose.

Dwight chuckled. "Oh, I am so there. Don't worry, Michael, I'll take this guy out."

Pam sat up. "What do you mean, ‘don't worry, Michael'? What's going on?"

But Dwight was already busy signing in and choosing a sword.

Michael scowled at Dwight's choice. "That one? Really?"

"Yes. It's long and lightweight and perfectly balanced for my character's build..."

"Dork."

"...and when I choose to fight him left-handed, I'll get triple strike points."

"Ugh. Whatever. Okay, everybody back to work. Pam, come with me, I need you to take some notes."

Pam sighed and picked up her steno pad. It wouldn't be the first time she'd felt like a captive in Michael's office. Or the last, most likely.

Mentally, Dwight was pacing.

He batted his mouse between his hands and smiled. Catlike reflexes. Quick, silent, accurate. DPRoberts wouldn't know what hit him.

He refreshed his screen.

"Come on, come on."  Even his little character was tapping its foot, impatient.

"Shouldn't you be... I don't know... selling paper?" the Temp challenged him.

Dwight sighed. "For your information, I'm on a very important Mission for Michael, not to mention a longtime personal Quest, so... no."

"A mission and a quest. Impressive."

"Yes. It is. So butt out. Obviously, they don't teach manners in business school."

"Or questing," said the Temp.

"Grandpa, why do you call him the Temp?"

"It's irony."

"What's irony?"

"I'm madly in love with your grandmother."

"Huh?"

"You'll get it when you're older."

Dwight eyed the Temp. "Are you mocking me?"

The Temp ignored the question and pointed to Dwight's screen. "Is that who you're waiting for?"

Dwight turned back to see a second figure waiting opposite his own. Everything the new character wore was black: mask, shirt, sash, pants, boots. The initials "DPR" floated on the screen below him. He leaned cockily on his sword.

"It's about time. First things first."

Dwight began typing in the chat box.

ARM: Show your hands, please.

DPR: May I ask why?

ARM: Yes, you may.

ARM: Allow me to tell you a story.

ARM: I developed my virtual fighting skills years ago playing Thyra the Valkyrie in Gauntlet.

ARM: I honed my reflexes and followed a warrior's strict code of honor.

ARM: I met many worthy opponents on innumerable battlefields.

ARM: Usually I won.

ARM: Once in a while I learned a valuable lesson from a masterful teacher.

ARM: When I reached the age of nine-and-twenty, I met a foe unlike any other.

ARM: He seemed honorable. He fought with skill. He broke my warrior's heart.

DPR:  :O

ARM: We fought to exhaustion.

ARM: We fought until our armor was in shreds.

ARM: We fought as long as the servers would allow.

ARM: Finally, we had only 2 life points between us.

ARM: I used mine to salute him.

ARM: He used his to cut off my legs at the ankles.

ARM: Before we were terminated, I noticed he had one very distinct feature.

ARM: He had six fingers on his right hand.

ARM: I've dedicated the years since to tracking him down.

ARM: And so I ask again: show you hands, please.

DPR: ...

DPR: Wow.

DPR: Very well.

The man in black held up his hands. Five fingers each. Dwight was disappointed.

DPR: And when you find him?

ARM: When I find him, I'll click on him and say,...

ARM: "Hello."

ARM: "My name is Dwight K. Schrute."

ARM: "You killed my avatar."

ARM: "Prepare to die."

DPR: ...

DPR: Good luck with that.

ARM: Thank you. I sense honor in you. Too bad I have to kill you.

DPR: You seem pretty special yourself. Shall we?

Dwight slid his mouse to his left hand and clicked. ARM cried, "En garde!"

DPR stood poised, at the ready. ARM grinned and swiped. Their digital swords clashed a few times, feeling each other out. Then ARM advanced, forcing DPR backward up a rocky incline.

clash clink clash

Dwight squinted, muttering, "His defense is smart, considering the terrain."

The Temp rolled his eyes and tried to concentrate on sales.

Just then, Dwight's phone rang. He looked at it, torn. He was Top Salesman. But he was also on a Mission and a Quest.

clash clash

ring

The Temp looked up. "You want me to get that?"

Dwight looked alarmed. "No! I mean, no, I can handle it. Multitasking. Essential for success." He picked up. "Dwight Schrute, Assistant Regional Manager, Dunder Mifflin Paper Products."

"Hi, Dwight."

Dwight jumped and ARM got tagged. "Jim?"

"Yeah, hey, how's it going?"

clash clink

"It's... fine. I'm a little busy right now. Why are you calling? You haven't called since... well, ever. Damn it!"

"Just wanted to see how you're doing, Dwight. Am I interrupting something?"

Dwight was distracted. ARM was trying to even up with DPR. They clinked and clashed and DPR scored another hit. ARM squeaked in tiny fury.

"Is that... are you... swordfighting?"

Dwight sighed. "If you must know - ah-ha! - yes, I am. Virtually."

"So you're almost swordfighting?"

"No, I'm on VirtualSwordfight.com. And I'm winning." Dwight's eyes shifted nervously to his character. Jim didn't need to know everything.

"You know, I play there, too. I'm a high-scorer."

clink clink squeak

"Impossible. I would have recognized you."

"Not impossible, factual. Check the High Scores."

"I can't - I'm fighting."

"Right, right. So what's your opponent doing right now?"

Dwight shook his head. "He's using Bonetti's defense."

clash

"Then you should come at him with Capo Ferro."

"Uh, duh!"

"Duh."

Dwight switched to a Capo Ferro attack. He would never admit to Jim that he hadn't already been using one. DPR not only fended him off, he scored another hit.

squeak

"Arg!"

"What's wrong?"

"He's using a Thibault defense now. It's like he knew what I was going to do. Well! Let's see how he does against Agrippa. Ha! Take that!"

clink clash clash

"How's he taking it?"

"He's good, I'll give him that." Dwight chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"There's something he doesn't know."

"That you were the Top Salesman in the Region?"

"No! Well, yes. But... anyway. What DPR doesn't know is that I'm not really left-handed!" And Dwight switched his game play to "RH" and smoothly swapped the mouse and phone between hands. He scored a hit. "Yes! Ha ha!" He backed DPR into a corner and was about to run him through when his opponent blocked and held his strike. Then he smiled. Dwight smirked. "Weakling."

"What? What happened?"

"He just smiled at me."

"Ooo, maybe he likes you, Dwight."

"Very funny, Jim - aah!"

"What?!"

"He isn't left-handed either! Crap, he's charging. This guy is good. Oh man, I don't have many strength points left."

clash squeak clash

Dwight dropped his phone and swiped furiously at DPR, who calmly stepped away from each clumsy thrust.

swish swish swish

ARM's strength points were draining away like water as he hacked and slashed, and DPR's speed was making Dwight's eyes cross. Suddenly, DPR's sword shot out and knocked off ARM's glasses. In his shock, Dwight stopped clicking, and DPR struck ARM's sword from his hand.

Dwight exhaled sharply. On the screen, ARM lowered himself before DPR, prostrate.

ARM: Kill me quickly.

DPR: I'd rather lose a sale than kill a swordsman such as yourself.

ARM: Who are you?

DPR: It's not important.

ARM: Please, master, I must know.

DPR: Get used to disappointment.

ARM: Yes, master.

DPR bowed. As ARM raised a hand to salute, his strength points ticked down to zero. GAME OVER flashed in big red letters.

Dwight sat back, stunned.

"Dwight. Dwight."

Dwight jumped when he realized his phone was still connected. He picked the handset up off the floor. "Hello?" he asked, dazed.

"Dwight, it's still Jim. What happened, buddy?"

"He beat me. I failed my mission for Michael."

"What was your mission for Michael, exactly?"

"To watch out for threats to Todd Packer's bids on Pam. To eliminate DPRoberts."

"I see. Was anyone else helping with this mission?"

"Yeah, Kevin. He's supposed to make sure no one in this office gets in the way."

"Huh. And what's Michael doing?"

"Keeping an eye on Pam. She almost shredded herself earlier to get out of it. Stupid. It's free food."

"Wow, sounds like you guys are pretty busy, so I'll let you go. Take it easy, Dwight."

"Yeah. Easy." Dwight hung up his phone blindly. "I can't believe I lost."

The Temp shrugged, then felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to find Michael, who smiled at him then looked at Dwight. "How'd it go?"

"I'm sorry, Michael."

"What?"

"I lost. I let you down."

"Great. Well, it wouldn't have kept him from bidding anyway."

Just then, Kevin let out a strangled squeal and fell out of his chair.

Michael rolled his eyes. "God, what now?"

Pam watched from the relative safety of reception as Michael headed to accounting. She looked at her screen. Still $500. Still DPRoberts.

She wished Jim were there. He would never have let this happen. But he wasn't, and it had. She minimized her screen, picked up her teapot, and went to the kitchen.

Five o'clock couldn't come soon enough.

Yes, you do, Pam thought. She set her teapot at her desk, and wrapped her shredded cardigan around it in the hope that the tea might still be warm when she emerged again. For now, her hands were tied.

"Wait, wait, wait. What happened to Kevin?"

"Kevin?"

"Yeah, you said he fell out of his chair, and Michael went over-"

"I did?"

She peers at him, concerned. "Are you having a hot flash, Grandpa?"

"A what?"

"Grandma says she gets hot flashes sometimes and it makes her forget things."

He rolls his eyes. "No, I'm not having a hot flash, and remind me to talk to your grandmother about appropriate conversation topics. If I can get a word in edgewise."

"So what happened to Kevin?"

"We don't really have to go into that."

"Grandpa."

"Granddaughter."

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Because it isn't... well... okay. Kevin got some pictures. In his email."

"What kind of pictures?"

"Um... chicks. Chicks and bunnies."

"Oh, I love bunnies! Their tails are soooo cute!"

"Kevin thought so, too."

"Is that why he fell out of his chair?"

"Yes, exactly."

"He must have really liked bunnies."

"He really did."

"Hm. Okay. You can keep going now."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Pam found Michael pacing in front of his computer. "You need help?"

"Yeah, look at this IM."

Pam looked at his screen and read this:

DPRoberts: Fine. Here's your riddle: A guy at an office party drinks some punch as soon as it's made, then gets bored and leaves. The next day, everyone who drank punch after him is dead by poisoning. The guy put nothing in the punch, and nothing was put in it after he left. What happened?

Pam frowned. "What is this?" As she scrolled up to see how the exchange began, Michael jumped forward.

"Wait! Don't-"

But Pam was already reading.

DPRoberts: I know what you're doing.

MGScott: Whatever do you mean, good sir?

DPRoberts: You're helping Packer win the date auction. And Schrute and Malone are in on it, too.

MGScott: I don't know what you're talking about.

DPRoberts: Schrute gave you up.

MGScott: OK, so what if I am?

"What?!" Pam whipped around to glare at Michael.

Michael's mouth was moving, but nothing was coming out.

"And what does he mean about Dwight and Kevin?"

Michael found he could talk again. "Well, they weren't any help. Dwight got beaten by this DPRoberts guy in an online swordfight... I know: dorkfest... so he's totally demoralized, and Kevin... Kevin's just useless. This guy's good, whoever he is. That's why I have to win this bet."

"What bet?" Pam turned back to the screen.

DPRoberts: How much is he giving you?

MGScott: It's more of a gentlemen's agreement.

"Yeah, right," muttered Pam.

DPRoberts: Yeah, right. Tell me, are you a betting man?

MGScott: Lady Luck has my private extension. That's what he said!

DPRoberts: Is that a yes?

MGScott: Yes.

DPRoberts: Fine. Here's what I propose: I give you a riddle.

DPRoberts: You have three chances to answer it.

DPRoberts: If you answer correctly, you continue helping Packer.

DPRoberts: If you answer incorrectly three times, you step away and you take your cronies with you.

DPRoberts: Agreed?

MGScott: Agreed. Bring it!

DPRoberts: Fine. Here's your riddle:...

Pam turned and stared at Michael, who tried smiling. She crossed her arms. "You're on your own, Michael." And she went back to reception.

"But..." Michael watched her stalk out, then turned back to his computer.

A few minutes later, Michael began howling and beating on his desk. When Dwight ran in to see what was wrong, this is what he saw:

MGScott: That's so easy.

DPRoberts: Then answer it. Three chances.

MGScott: What was in this punch?

DPRoberts: Orange juice, rum, ice.

MGScott: Lame party.

DPRoberts: ...

MGScott: I've got it: everyone else at the party was allergic to orange juice.

DPRoberts: No

MGScott: Allergic to rum!

DPRoberts: No. You've wasted two answers. Only one chance left.

MGScott: I know, I was just testing you.

DPRoberts: Really.

MGScott: Sure, everyone knows this one.

DPRoberts: And?

MGScott: I can't believe you picked such an easy riddle.

DPRoberts: You're stalling. What's your answer?

MGScott: Fine! Just as the guy took his drink, the host's evil pet monkey peed in the punchbowl.

Dwight scoffed. "Monkey pee isn't lethal. The poison was in the ice."

Michael threw his hands up. "Now you're helpful. Go away. And tell Kevin the mission's off. Packman's on his own."

Good, thought Dwight as he left.

Pam was wondering what had happened when her IM alert beeped. She had a new message.

DPRoberts: Hello.

So she answered.

PBeesly: Hello. Who are you?

DPRoberts: It's not important.

Pam decided she'd had about enough.

PBeesly: So you think you can outbid Todd Packer? Good luck.

DPRoberts: You think your boyfriend will save you?

PBeesly: I never said he was my boyfriend. Ew. Disgusting.

DPRoberts: You don't like him?

PBeesly: No, and he knows I don't.

DPRoberts: Can't, you mean.

PBeesly: Excuse me?

DPRoberts: Are you saying you have liked someone? Another winner like Packer, maybe?

PBeesly: No. He was nothing like Todd Packer.

PBeesly: He was gentle and kind and funny. And he loved me.

DPRoberts: Nice eyes?

PBeesly: Beautiful eyes.

DPRoberts: So what happened?

PBeesly: I said no. He transferred to Stamford.

DPRoberts: Stamford, eh? I interviewed a guy for Stamford. What's his name?

PBeesly: Jim. Jim Halpert.

DPRoberts: Yeah, Halpert. I wasn't sure he was qualified for the job.

DPRoberts: But he said, Please, I need this transfer.

DPRoberts: When I asked why, he told me about a woman.

DPRoberts: Told me she was the most intelligent, talented, beautiful woman he'd ever known.

DPRoberts: I can only assume he meant you.

DPRoberts: You should be glad he can't see you now.

PBeesly: And what does that mean?

DPRoberts: He was your best friend and he loved you.

DPRoberts: Did you volunteer for this win-a-date thing right away, or wait a whole five minutes to think it over?

PBeesly: How dare you?

PBeesly: I'd give anything to have him back.

PBeesly: And don't bother bidding any more.

PBeesly: I'd quit before I went out with you.

PBeesly: This conversation is over.

Pam was about to exit her IM when one more line popped up.

DPRoberts: As you wish.

Pam gasped. "Jim."

She fumbled with her corporate directory, then with her phone, stabbing the numbers for the Stamford branch and his extension.

"Jim Halp-"

"Jim! Why didn't you tell me it was you?!" Pam tried to keep her voice to an urgent whisper.

"Why did you agree to the auction?"

"I didn't. Michael tricked me."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I hadn't heard from you in so long... I thought you'd hang up on me."

"I told you I'd always be there for you."

"I know."

"Don't you believe me, Beesly?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything."

"Don't. We can talk about that later. Listen, don't give up. I have an idea. It's not gonna be easy, but I think we can pull it off. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay. I have to go now, but I'll call you again soon. And Pam? I'm sorry about the stuff I said in the IM. The bad stuff. I didn't mean it."

"I know."

"I meant the good stuff."

She laughed. "I know."

"Okay, I'll talk to you soon."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye."

Pam's heart was racing as she hung up her phone.

This time it wasn't the panic of seeing TPacker next to the first bid, or the fear of losing a body part in the shredder, or the anger at discovering Michael's mission.

This time she could feel it in her whole body, the thudding in her chest echoed by a pulsing in the tips of her nose, fingers, and toes, and it made her smile.

She clapped her hands over her mouth, sure that everyone could hear it.

But no one had noticed. Not yet.

Pam knew they had some pretty tricky territory ahead of them. She told Jim so.

"Do you really think we can manage this?" she asked.

"You're only asking because no one ever has."

"Exactly."

"Pam... are you comparing us to Michael and Jan?"

"No."

"Dwight and Angela?"

"God, no!" Pam shuddered.

"Creed and Meredith?"

"What?!"

"Supply closet, New Year's Party, 2002. Whew. Feels good to finally tell you that."

"Thanks a lot! Ew."

"Pam, just because none of them could handle it doesn't mean we can't. I mean, what are our main obstacles?"

As Pam saw it, there were three.

x x x x x

When Pam had come in that morning, Angela was already there.

Angela was always early. One week long ago, Pam and Jim had come in a little earlier each day to see if they could get there before Angela. But even when they showed up at 5:00 a.m. that Friday, she was there, at her desk, her strict braid and disapproving look perfectly in place. In retrospect, they probably shouldn't have shown up at the office together at 5:00 a.m. That had looked kind of suspicious.

On this particular morning, though, Angela was already there because Pam was late. As Pam hung up her coat and stowed her purse, she heard a contemptuous noise. She glanced over to accounting, where Angela was shaking her head at Pam.

Angela hated it when people were late. It put her in a very bad mood. Pam decided to do her best to avoid Angela that day. It didn't work. By 10:00 a.m., Pam had had three run-ins with Angela, each worse than the last.

The first came just a few minutes after Pam turned her computer on.

"You're still checking your email?"

Pam looked up at Angela's annoyed face. "It's 9:08."

"Exactly." Angela shoved some invoices at Pam. "Fax these to Corporate, please. And don't wait till 5:20 this time." Angela's eyes glinted as she turned away.

The second run-in was fifteen minutes later, when Angela called over the partition.

"Has Corporate faxed a reply yet?"

Pam frowned. "A reply?"

"To the invoices?" Angela's head popped up. "You did fax them, didn't you?"

"Of course."

Angela shot her a fiery look and disappeared again.

Pam faxed the invoices.

At 9:48, Corporate faxed a reply. Angela wasn't going to like it.

"You aren't going to like this," Pam said as she handed the reply to Angela.

Angela stared at her. "You read it?"

"Um..."

"That is none of your business! That is accounting business. If I wanted you to read all of my correspondence, I'd have asked you to read all of my correspondence!"

"Angela, I just-"

"No! This is incredibly unprofessional! There could have been sensitive information in that. You can bet I'll be reporting this to Toby. And Michael." Angela jerked the fax out of Pam's hand. "And I'll be sending my own faxes from now on." When Pam didn't move, Angela spat, "That is all."

As she walked back to her desk, Pam checked her hands and face for burns.

x x x x x

Jim laughed. "Well that's easy to avoid again. Just listen for the tsk of righteous indignation, and walk in the opposite direction."

Pam giggled.

Jim joined her. "What else?"

Pam's smile faltered. Jim wasn't going to like this one.

x x x x x

Just before lunch, Michael asked Pam to run an errand for him.

Pam hadn't wanted to go down to the warehouse, but Darryl wasn't answering his phone or his voice mail, and Michael was getting antsy. And so Pam went, her cell phone in hand so that Darryl could call Michael, no matter where Darryl was. Pam knew that Darryl would be thrilled.

The thing is, Pam had to tread carefully in the warehouse, because her ex-boyfriend, Roy, worked there. While Pam still saw him every day at work, it was awkward. So as she descended the steps, she kept an eye out for Roy. Best to avoid him altogether.

Pam found Darryl in the back. As she told him why she was there, he watched her with a look that Pam knew wasn't just because she worked upstairs or was on an errand from Michael. It was because she had dumped Roy right before their wedding, and Darryl thought that was pretty low. Finally, though, he took the phone from her and called Michael.

Pam stepped away and looked at the neat stacks of paper products while she waited. She was admiring their organization when a soft voice spoke behind her.

"Hey, Pam."

Pam jumped a little and closed her eyes. She shouldn't have tried to avoid him. Now she turned. "Hi, Roy."

"Hey. What brings you down here?"

"Oh, just a thing for Michael." She pointed over her shoulder to Darryl's frustrated conversation.

Roy chuckled. "Right... Michael. Glad I'm not the foreman."

Pam felt herself slip just a bit into his dimples.

He gave her a small smile and said, "You look nice today."

"Thanks."

"Did you change your hair?"

"No. It's the same."

"Oh. That bit there looks a little different." Roy pointed, but then stuffed his hands back in his pockets. "It looks nice."

Pam blushed. She couldn't remember the last time Roy had noticed her hair. "Thanks."

"I heard you started taking art classes. That's great."

She looked up, surprised. "Yeah, they're good."

"You'll have to show me some of your drawings."

"Mm, okay..." Pam looked at his eyes, and thought he might actually mean it.

"Here's your phone." Darryl was beside her now. He looked at Roy then back at Pam. "Tell Michael to come down here himself next time." He looked back up at Roy. "C'mon, man, we need to get that truck loaded," and he walked away.

Roy nodded. "Okay, I'll be right there." He turned back to Pam. "So, hey, I was thinking maybe sometime-"

Pam didn't hear the rest. Roy was talking and looking at her in a sincere way that she hadn't seen for a long time. She had the sensation that she was sinking, and that the warehouse was very stuffy because she was having trouble breathing. Everything felt very heavy. She couldn't move.

Then her phone rang. She looked down to see Jim on the screen. Her feet began to move toward the stairs.

"Pam?"

She began walking more quickly. "I'm sorry. I have to get back."

"Okay. Maybe some other time."

"Yeah." Now she was running up the stairs, toward the door marked EXIT.

"Oh, wait! Chicken or fish?"

Pam jerked open the door and called back, "Share with Darryl!" She burst through the door and landed, panting, against the opposite wall. Her heart was trying to come out of her chest. That had been too close.

Her phone was still ringing. She opened it.

"Hi," Jim said.

"Hey," she breathed.

x x x x x

"You just have to watch your step. So that neither of you get hurt again."

Pam knew Jim was mostly concerned about her. "You're right."

"I know. I usually am."

"Ha ha," said Pam, but she knew he was, again.

"Let's switch to IM. It's quieter."

"Okay."

JHalpert: See? Nothing to worry about.

PBeesly: But what about the ROUS?

JHalpert: The Regional Office Undercover Spyware? Yeah, right.

PBeesly: I'm telling you, I saw the plans on Michael's desk...

PBeesly: ...and he had the IT guy in here for a week solid!

JHalpert: And I'm telling you there's no way Michael has developed the capability to spy on our IMs.

PBeesly: He looked pretty happy when the IT guy left.

JHalpert: Agent Michael Scarn is fictional, Pam.

MGScott: O RLY?

PBeesly: Michael?

MGScott: And a friend...

TPacker: Hey, doll.

JHalpert: Back off, Packer.

TPacker: What you gonna do about it, Halpert?

JHalpert: She doesn't want anything to do with you.

TPacker: Don't trip on your skirt running to her side, Halpert.

TPacker: She knows a man when she sees one.

JHalpert: And that's you? Give me a break.

TPacker: Give up.

JHalpert: You give up? Good. We accept.

TPacker: No, you give up, you pansy.

TPacker: Or maybe you'd rather lose your job.

TPacker: Porter would be mighty interested in how you've been spending your hours online, DPRoberts.

JHalpert: You wouldn't.

TPacker: Oh yeah?

JHalpert: I'd quit first.

PBeesly: Wait!

PBeesly: I'll do it!

TPacker: What?

JHalpert: What?

MGScott: TWSS!

PBeesly: I'll do it.

PBeesly: I'll go out with you, Packer.

PBeesly: Just promise you won't try to get Jim fired.

TPacker: Deal, little lady.

JHalpert: What are you doing?

PBeesly: I cost you one job.

PBeesly: I won't cost you another.

JHalpert: That's not important.

PBeesly: It is to me.

PBeesly: I'm signing off now.

PBeesly: Please don't risk it, Jim.

TPacker: Looks like she's made her choice.

TPacker: Again.

TPacker: Later, nerdz.

JHalpert: This isn't over.

But it was.

Jim sat back in his chair. Five minutes ago, everything had been fine. Now he wasn't sure what he was going to do.

In front of him, Andy chuckled into his phone, and said, "Sure thing," before hanging up. He clicked around online a few times, then turned to Jim.

"Hey, Big Tuna. Can I interest you in a friendly match?"

Jim looked up, confused. "What?"

Andy rolled his chair back so Jim could see Andy's monitor. VirtualSwordfight.com. Andy's avatar bounced while it waited.

Jim sighed. "Sure. What the hell." He logged in and their match screen came up. Something caught his eye. "Huh."

Andy turned to Jim. "What?"

Jim pointed to his screen. "Your avatar has six fingers on its right hand. There's someone who's looking for you. Ever heard of ARM?"

Andy got red and burst. "Yer goin' DOWN!" He spun around and clicked, and DPR got hit hard on the head. He dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Andy turned back to Jim and nodded, slowly. He whispered, "Down, Big Tuna."

Jim let his face fall into his palms and squeezed his eyes shut.

His head was pounding.

"Aw, I'm just kidding. C'mon. Why don't you let me buy you a drink?"

Jim didn't move. He figured maybe if he stayed still, Andy would lose interest.

"Jim?"

Jim looked up. Andy did know his name.

"C'mon. You look like you could use one. Or five."

Andy seemed sincere. Jim sighed. "You're right. I do."

"Great! I know just the place. You're gonna love it! I'll be right back."

Jim gathered his things while he waited for Andy. Behind him, Karen spoke.

"The Pit."

Jim turned to her. "I'm sorry, what?"

"He's taking you to The Pit."

Jim chuckled. "Sounds homey."

"Yeah, it's not. But you won't notice. You'll have your hands full with Andy. Good luck with that."

"Care to join us?"

"Hell, no. But you have fun, Big Tuna."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Thanks."

*  *  *  *  *

Saturday rolled around and Pam went out with Todd Packer. When he showed up to pick her up, he looked at her like she was a big, juicy steak. So she was glad when they got to the restaurant and he could eat something. But no matter how much he ate, Pam still felt like a steak with all the trimmings. Packer didn't take her dancing, or to a movie, or to an art show, or even bowling. Instead, he drove her back to her apartment. When he leaned down to her, his eyes closed and his lips puckered, Pam hoped that the charity appreciated its new $501 gift. Then she kissed Todd Packer. On the lips.

"Ewwwwwww! Nooooo, Grandpa, you've got it all wrong! Pam doesn't kiss Packer."

"Why not?"

"Because! She kisses Jim! After everything he did, if she kissed Packer, it wouldn't be fair!"

"Who says life is fair?"

"Grandpa! You're messing it up! Tell it right!"

"Do you want a bedtime story or not?"

She plays with the hem of her shirt and says, quietly, "Yes, sir."

"Okay. Hush."

The kiss was horrible.

"Well, duh."

...

"Sorry."

When Pam went in to work on Monday, she tried to go about her normal business. She was single now, and dating was something that she would have started to do at some point anyway. It was time to move forward. So she had kissed Todd Packer. Whatever.

On Pam's way to the kitchen, though, Phyllis stood up. "Shame on you," Phyllis said.

Pam stopped short. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Phyllis threw her hands in the air. "Jim loved you, and you went out with Todd Packer!"

"But he would have gotten Jim fired if I hadn't."

Phyllis turns to everyone in the office and announces, "Jim confessed his love for her, and she rejected him. He kissed her, and she rejected him again. He fought Dwight for her, distracted Kevin for her, even outwitted Michael for her." She turned back to Pam. "Jim's always been there for you, and you've treated him like dirt. You disgust me."

Pam was shocked into silence. She looked around as people began wagging fingers at her.

"Disgusting," said Stanley.

"Disgusting!" cried Meredith.

"Disgusting!" shouted Creed.

And Pam woke up.

She had fallen asleep at her desk. It was Friday, almost quitting time. She still had a day before the date.

"See, Grandpa? I told you she wouldn't kiss Todd Packer."

"Yes, you're very smart. Shut up."

Pam called Packer. "I can't do it. I love Jim."

Todd Packer laughed. "So?"

"If you make me do this, I'll quit. Then I won't be bound by the auction contract."

"Alright, alright, don't get your drawers in a twist. I'll call him."

"You'll call Jim?"

"Sure. I'll call him and give him a chance to make another bid before the cutoff."

"Thank you."

"But listen, darlin'. If he doesn't, you know what they say... once you've had Pack-"

Pam hung up, relieved.

*  *  *  *  *

Andy drove Jim into The City after work. He parked and they walked until they reached an old, gray building. Andy pushed a button in the wall, and a door opened. As Jim followed him through it, he looked up to see a barely legible sign that read The Pit.

Jim decided it was a very good name, because once inside, they walked down, down, down several flights of stairs. Each level was gloomier than the last. Finally, they came to a second door, where Andy swiped a card, and then they were inside.

It looked like a dungeon. Well, Jim had never seen a real dungeon, but this was how he pictured one. The walls were rough stone. The tables and benches were all suspended from chains. Torches burned along the walls. What looked like torture devices stood in the dark corners.

"Beer?"

Jim looked at Andy. "Uh, sure."

Even after Andy brought the beer, Jim was too busy looking around to pay attention to anything he said. So when Andy's phone rang, Jim only caught the last bit of the conversation.

"Hey, you can't capture the beauty if you don't rest the beast, right? Yeah, I've got it under control. Okay, later."

When Andy hung up, Jim asked, "What was that about?"

Andy waved it off. "Oh, nothing. Drink up, Big Tuna! Tonight's for forgetting your problems! Say, did I ever tell you about the pranks us Cornies played on the geeks at Ithaca College? Ho, man, wait'll you get a load o' this..."

Jim sat back and sipped and listened. After about twenty minutes, he felt like he'd lost a year of his life.

He should've listened to Karen.

*  *  *  *  *

Pam sat at home, watching her computer screen.

$501, TPacker.

It hadn't changed. She was getting nervous because the cutoff for bids was 8:00 p.m. At 7:50, she called Todd Packer again.

"Hey, doll. Can't wait till tomorrow?"

"You called him, right?"

"Who?"

"Jim Halpert."

"Halpert? Why would I - ooooh, right, right. Yeah, I called him. He said no thanks."

"You're lying," said Pam, hoping he was.

"Hey, now, watch your mouth, missy."

"I should have known. You're such a coward."

"I said, watch your mouth."

"You can't hurt me. What Jim and I have can't be touched. And when I say you're a coward, it's because you're the most pathetic, sniveling piece of crap I've ever met."

"That's it."

Pam was still holding her silent phone when Andy handed his to Jim.

Jim frowned. "For me?"

Andy shrugged.

"Hello?"

"Halpert."

Jim felt like spitting. "Packer."

"So, listen... Halpert. Looks like I've won the auction. And guess who just called? That sweet little piece of receptionist. Seems she just can't wait to get over you. ‘Take me out tonight,' she said. ‘Make me forget.'"

"You're lying," said Jim, hoping he was.

"You wish, Halpert. Too bad you caved so easily. She said she really hates that about you."

Jim closed his eyes and hung up. When he opened them again, he began drinking. And drinking. As Andy droned on, Jim finished the pitcher of beer and switched to liquor. After several small glasses, he ordered a bottle, and drank directly from the neck. About halfway through it, Andy left and didn't come back.

Jim began to feel very heavy all over. He really wanted to sleep. But his stomach was doing flips, so he didn't lie down. Instead, he leaned back against the cold stone wall, and pulled out his phone. Concentrating very hard, Jim sent a text message to the last person he ever thought he would.

Help. The Pit. NYC.

A few moments later, he sent a second one, just in case.

6 fingers

Then Jim closed his eyes and passed out.

When Dwight got the first text message, he was confused. What was The Pit? And why was Jim there? And why did Jim need his help?

When the second message came through, Dwight dropped his lightsaber and pulled his shirt back on.

"D?" Angela asked as he ran from the room.

He ran back in, scooped up the lightsaber, and was gone again.

"Keep the cookies warm till I get back!" he yelled over his shoulder.

*  *  *  *  *

As he sped down the country lane, Dwight decided (correctly) that he might need help - someone to do the heavy lifting. Michael was too important, would be busy on a Friday night. Creed was too old, Stanley too out of shape. Oscar did owe him a favor. In the end, though, he called Kevin.

If Dwight had to make a quick getaway, Kevin would make good, slow bait for his pursuers.

*  *  *  *  *

Kevin was waiting when Dwight pulled up.

"Well? What did you find out?" Dwight asked.

"It's a club."

"How do you know?"

"I Googled ‘the pit' and ‘new york'."

"Why would Jim be at a club in Manhattan?"

"It is Friday night," Kevin said, looking back at his house wistfully.

"But what does the six-fingered man have to do with this?"

"The who?"

"I'll explain on the way."

*  *  *  *  *

"It's gotta be here. This is the block."

Dwight looked up and down the street. "I don't see a club, though. No neon, no bouncer, no music.... The six-fingered man was here, though, I sense it."

"You do?" Kevin was doubtful.

"Shh! Let me concentrate." Dwight closed his eyes and raised his lightsaber. "Grossvater, hear me. I ask your help to find the one who dishonored the Schrute family name. Guide my saber, Grossvater."

Kevin watched as Dwight held the toy up and spun slowly in circles. When Kevin rolled his eyes, he noticed an old sign on the wall above him.

"Uh, Dwight..."

"Be quiet, I'm almost there!" Dwight stumbled off the curb.

Kevin followed a line down from the edge of the sign and saw a small button in the wall. He pushed it. A door appeared in the wall.

"Dwight, we're in."

"What? Oh! Thank you, Grossvater!"

Kevin looked down at the saber. "You do know that's not real, right?"

"Duh. The six-fingered man doesn't know that, though, does he? Let's go!"

When Kevin finally caught up to Dwight, he was pounding on the club's secure inner door. "It's locked!"

"Doesn't matter," said Kevin.

Dwight turned to find Kevin pointing to a pile of arms and legs propped up under the stairs. They stooped down to peer at Jim.

Kevin frowned. "He looks dead."

"Whoa! What did Kevin mean, ‘He looks dead'?  Jim can't be dead!"

"Can I continue?"

"But who gets Packer?"

"Nobody. Packer lives to date at least a couple more women."

"Ack! Are you kidding me?!"

"You know, you kill the momentum every time you interrupt me."

She heaves a great sigh. "Fine."

Anyway, Kevin frowned. "He looks dead."

Dwight poked Jim with the lightsaber. Jim snorted. "Dead drunk, more like. C'mon, help me get him up."

They wrestled Jim out from under the stairs. Dwight slapped his face. "Jim? Jim!" He sighed. "No use. Damn! Only he can tell me where the six-fingered man is."

"What should we do?"

"We have to revive him. Bring him up to the car. I have an idea." And Dwight was gone.

Kevin looked at Jim, out cold, and shrugged. He lifted him up over his shoulder and began climbing the stairs. It took a while. There was more to Jim than there appeared to be.

Dwight helped Kevin stuff Jim in the backseat of the car, then they were off again.

*  *  *  *  *

Kevin did his best to hold Jim upright. "Why are we here?"

"The Temp lives here." Dwight jabbed the doorbell again.

"Oh. Wait, that doesn't answer my question."

The door opened, and very sleepy and somewhat cranky eyes looked at Dwight.

"Oh my God, what do you want?"

"We need your help," said Dwight.

"Do you know what time it is?"

Dwight checked his watch. "3:48:16 a.m."

The Temp squinted. "Is that Jim?"

"Yes. He's passed out drunk."

"And heavy," Kevin added, carrying Jim inside and laying him down in the hallway.

"We need your help to cure him," Dwight said.

The Temp shook his head. "There's no cure for that. He needs to sleep it off." He winced. "He's gonna be hurting when he wakes up."

"Exactly, and we need him to be as coherent as possible."

"Why me?"

Dwight gave the Temp a knowing look. "You said yourself you go to a lot of parties. I figured you might have... dealt with this."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't go back to bed right now."

"He has an important sales meeting later today," offers Kevin, proud to have thought so quickly on his feet.

"Today's Saturday."

"Shoot," said Kevin.

Dwight jumped forward. "I need him to help me fulfill a years-long Quest for Vengeance!"

The Temp closed his eyes. "Oh, God, the Quest. I should've known." He poked Jim with a toe.

"True love," Jim mumbled.

"Ha! True love!" Dwight cried. "You can't ask for a better reason than that!"

"I don't know..."

There came a loud gasp behind them, then "Ryan!!!"

All three men turned.

"Kelly?" Dwight and Kevin asked together.

His granddaughter's giggling, her hands over her mouth, her dark eyes twinkling.

"What?"

She pokes his tie. "What was she doing at your apartment, Grandpa?"

"No comment."

"Kelly," said Ryan.

"Oh my God, Ryan! You heard him - he said True Love! True Love, Ryan."

"Kelly, please."

"Ryan, you have to help him! Just look at him - how's he going to find his True Love like that?" She poked Jim with a toe, too. "Wow, he snores really loudly."

"Kelly! Why don't you go back to... doing that jigsaw puzzle."

"Ryan Howard! If you ignore Jim when he needs you most, you're no better than that creep, Todd Packer!"

"That's a little over the top-"

"Packer, Packer, Packer-"

Dwight pulled them apart. "If you help us, Jim will stop Pam from going on that date with Packer!"

Ryan put a hand over Kelly's mouth. "If I do this, Packer suffers?"

"Big time," smiled Dwight.

Ryan nodded. "I'll do it."

"Woo-hoo!" cried Kelly.

Ten minutes later, Kevin stuffed Jim into the car a second time. Dwight looked over the list in his hand.

"Just mix all of that together, and make him drink the whole thing," Ryan said. "He won't thank you till much later."

"Got it. Thanks."

"Sure."

"Good luck, guys!" called Kelly. "Eeeeeeee! True Love!" She jumped up and down, and kissed Ryan, who sighed and padded back to bed.

*  *  *  *  *

"That looks disgusting," said Kevin.

"Just focus on waking him up," ordered Dwight.

It was almost four in the afternoon on Saturday. Jim had been unconscious most of the day, but had begun to stir a half hour before.

"Jim?" Kevin said softly, shaking his shoulder.

"Unnnhhhhh," said Jim. He frowned as he opened his eyes. "Too bright," he croaked, raising a hand for shade. He looked around him. "Am I in a barn?"

"We thought you might-"

Jim sat straight up, then groaned, bent over and heaved.

"-barf," said Kevin as he jumped out of range.

Jim sank back down onto the straw and moaned. "Pam. Pam and Packer."

"They go out tonight."

Jim shook his head. "No, it happened last night."

"Nooo," said Dwight. "Packer hasn't left the Newark area in the last three days."

Jim looked at Dwight. "How do you know?"

Dwight shrugged. "I put a tracking device on his car months ago. He showed up unannounced one time too many."

Jim stared at him, then shook his head as if to clear it. "So Pam hasn't gone out with Packer yet? Where is she? Where am I? What is that?" He pointed to the concoction Dwight held.

"Let me explain," said Dwight. "On second thought, that would take too long. Let me summarize: You're in my barn. This is a drink that Ryan assures me will cure your hangover. Pam's date with Packer is tonight, but they're meeting with Toby at five to sign the paperwork."

"Paperwork?"

"It's surprisingly official," Dwight muses. "So. That gives us less than an hour to drive to the office, get Tate to let us in, and stop the signing. Question: You mentioned the six-fingered man..."

Jim held up a hand to stop him. "In a second. Give me that horrifying mixture." Dwight handed it over. Jim felt his stomach roil again, but he closed his eyes, held his breath, and drank the whole thing. "Auuuggghhh! What was in that?!"

"Beet juice, mayonnai-"

"Never mind! Ech. Okay... the guy you've been looking for, the one who killed your avatar? He sits in front of me in Stamford. His name's Andy, but he logs in as BFD."

Kevin giggled.

Jim nodded. "Yeah, it makes Andy giggle, too."

"Excellent!" Dwight said. "Kevin, help him up. Let's go!" He jogged toward the door.

"Wait, what's the plan?" Jim asked as he struggled to stand.

"We'll figure something out on the way!" Dwight called back.

*  *  *  *  *

When Pam pulled into the parking lot, there were three cars there already. Tate, Toby, and Packer. She gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath. For charity, she told herself, and climbed out of her car. The sidewalk to the building looked very long, and her feet felt very heavy, and Pam thought for a moment that maybe this was another dream. But she knew it wasn't, and so she walked.

"Hello, Tate," she offered as she waited for the elevator.

"Mm-hm."

She managed to hit the right button for the second floor, and to walk to the office door and open it. No voices. They must be at Toby's desk, Pam thought. So she rounded the corner. Then she stopped.

Jim's desk.

It would never be Ryan's. Always Jim's. The official headquarters for pranks. The home of his smile and his voice and his laugh. The place where, in a soft blue glow, he had kissed her, silent and determined. She looked at it a hundred times a day, wishing him back.

She wished once more, then continued on to Toby's office. When she arrived, she received a leer and a pitying look.

Toby sighed. "Let's get started."

Pam wondered why Toby bothered to clear his throat, because everything that followed was a mumble.

"Charity Date Auction, hereinafter referred to as ‘the Event', shall mumble mumble..."

This was going to take a while.

*  *  *  *  *

Kevin wrinkled his nose. "Man... you reek."

Jim laughed. "Thanks, Kev. Dwight, wait up. I need to borrow some clothes."

"No time!"

"Dwight, c'mon."

"But the six-fingered man will get away!"

"He's virtual, Dwight! Please?"

Dwight sighed. "Oh, alright, follow me."

He led them into the farmhouse and up to his room. He pulled a shirt out of the closet and held it up in front of Jim.

"Long sleeves, Dwight."

Jim took the clothes Dwight threw at him and looked around. "Bathroom?"

"Under the porch."

"Really?"

"Hurry!"

"Okay, okay!"

After a quick sink bath, some mouthwash, and a splash of Old Spice, Jim scrambled into the backseat (again) and they were off.

*  *  *  *  *

"...mumble highest bidder at the close of the mumble hereafter mumble ‘the Winner'..."

"That's me!" Packer undid another button on his shirt and made sure his collar was flipped up.

"...shall win one date with the datee, mumble mumble ‘the Prize'..."

Packer winked at Pam. "That's you. Heh-heh."

Pam crossed her arms and fidgeted with her necklace.

*  *  *  *  *

Dwight screeched to a stop and they ran toward the door of the office building.

"What if Tate doesn't let us in?" Kevin puffed. "It is Saturday."

"Leave Tate to me," Dwight said. "I'm Official Security Supervisor of the Branch. We have a rapport."

Jim stopped. "Dwight, don't-"

"Uh, Jim? Please? Leave this to the professionals."

When they burst into the lobby, Tate looked up. He didn't seem surprised.

Dwight stepped forward. "Tate, we're here on business-related business. As Official Sec-"

"Whatever," said Tate and waved them toward the elevator.

"Oh. Thank you," managed Dwight.

"Thanks, Tate," said Jim, smiling.

"Sure, Jim. Good luck."

*  *  *  *  *

Toby looked up at the screeching noise outside. Pam looked at Packer triumphantly. "I told you he'd come."

Packer scoffed. "He ain't comin'. I saw to that myself."

Pam arched an eyebrow. "Then why are you so jumpy?"

Packer turned on Toby. "Get movin', will you, Flindersson? We don't have all night."

Toby shrugged.

*  *  *  *  *

When they entered, Dwight made a beeline for Michael's office. "Vengeance is almost mine," he whispered as he closed Michael's door and blinds.

Jim felt dizzy. "I don't feel so good," he said. He looked at the clock. Ten till five. He still had some time. "I need to lay down for a sec."

"Okay," said Kevin, easing Jim down onto the couch. He glanced around the office, nervous. "I've got your back."

"Thanks, man." Jim lay back with an arm over his eyes, so he didn't see Kevin edge over to accounting. Or hide behind his desk.

*  *  *  *  *

Dwight logged in and began searching.

He found BFD in a group melee. Systematically, ARM eliminated every character on the screen, until he faced his foe.

ARM: Hello.

ARM: My name is Dwight K. Schrute.

ARM: You killed my avatar.

ARM: Prepare to die.

BFD raised his sword, froze, then turned and fled to the next level.

ARM chased him through the halls of a virtual castle, across thresholds, through storage rooms. ARM was flying down a spiral staircase when BFD threw a dagger into his gut.

*  *  *  *  *

"Just sign here."

Pam stared at Toby, then took the pen from Packer. She signed.

"He didn't come."

Toby was sympathetic, but resigned. "Todd, stay here a moment, there's some paperwork to go with your check. And you still need to write a check."

*  *  *  *  *

Dwight gasped. Life points began to drain away. No! he thought, not again!

BFD: You must be that dork who saluted me.

BFD: Stupid.

BFD: And now you're back for more.

BFD: That's pathetic.

BFD: You'll never be ruthless enough for this game.

BFD: I fed your feet to my virtual dog, by the way.

At that, ARM pulled the dagger out.

ARM: Hello.

ARM: My name is Dwight K. Schrute.

ARM: You killed my avatar.

ARM: Prepare to die.

And ARM stood. The drain of life points slowed. ARM advanced.

clash... clink clink clash

ARM: Hello.

ARM: My name is Dwight K. Schrute.

ARM: You killed my avatar.

ARM: Prepare to die.

BFD seemed surprised. ARM continued to advance.

clash clash

ARM: Hello!

ARM: My name is Dwight K. Schrute!

ARM: You killed my avatar!

ARM: Prepare to die!

BFD: Shut up!

CLASH

ARM: HELLO!

ARM: MY NAME IS DWIGHT K. SCHRUTE!

ARM: YOU KILLED MY AVATAR!

ARM: PREPARE TO DIE!

ARM knocked BFD's sword aside and backed him into a trestle table.

ARM: Offer me gold.

BFD: Yes.

ARM: Life points, too.

BFD: Yes, please!

ARM: Offer me everything I ask for.

BFD: Anything you want!

BFD tried to strike, but ARM blocked and punched his sword into BFD's belly.

ARM: I want my avatar back, you bastard!

And he ran BFD through.

*  *  *  *  *

Pam focused on her computer as she walked back to the front. Her feet felt numb.  When she reached her desk, Pam sank into her chair. She would never be able to face these people again. She opened her email account and began to write her letter of resignation to Michael.

Just as she was about to hit Send -

"There's a shortage of perfect pranksters in the world. It'd be a shame to lose you."

Pam popped up from her chair. "Jim!" She ran around the counter and jumped onto the couch.

"Oof!"

"Jim! You came! I knew you'd come!" And she squeezed him to her.

"Ow!"

Pam sat up. "Oh, Jim. I'm so sorry."

Jim eyed her. "What have you done now, Beesly?"

"I signed the paperwork," she said.

Jim shook his head. "It's not official."

"Sure it is. Packer signed, I signed, Toby watched."

"Was there a notary present?"

Pam frowned. "A notary? Um, no..."

"Then it's not official. Right, Packer?"

Pam turned to see Packer leaning on the counter. He pointed a thumb at Toby, who stood nearby.

"Flindersson'll fix it. But first, I think I'll make that phone call to Corporate. You're so fired, Halpert." Packer picked up Pam's phone.

"I have a better idea," said Jim. "Why don't you call and resign?"

"Excuse me?"

Jim smiled. "Remember that sales convention in Orlando last year?"

"Yeah," said Packer.

"And the side trip to the safari place?"

Packer shrugged. "Yeah, so what?"

Jim's eyebrows rose. "Michael has some pretty compromising photos of you and one of the gorillas. And the gorilla's on top."

Pam gasped and giggled.

"You're bluffing," sneered Packer.

Jim fixed Packer with a glare. "Am I? Maybe I am. Maybe I'm making it all up. Or maybe I copied the files from Michael's camera, and I've been waiting for the perfect opportunity to share them in a company-wide email. I think you know the answer." Jim stood. "Drop the phone."

Packer dropped it.

Jim pointed to Pam's chair. "Sit."

Packer sat.

"Open your email and write. Keep it short. Something along the lines of ‘I quit, effective immediately'."

Packer wrote it.

"Send it."

Packer sent it.

"Now get out."

Packer got out.

As the door closed behind him, Dwight strutted from Michael's office. "Yes! I did it! Where's Kevin?" he asked. Kevin rose slowly from his hiding place in accounting. "C'mon, Kevin, I'll buy you a beer."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You too, Toby. Let's go." Dwight shook his head. "Man, I've been on this quest so long, I don't know what to do now."

Toby chuckled and said, "Have you ever considered starting your own business? Somewhere... not here?"

"Huh," Dwight said. "I'd be my own boss." He got a funny look on his face. Then he smiled. "That's perfect!"

As Kevin followed them out, he turned back. "You guys coming?"

Jim and Pam looked at one another, then back to Kevin. "Nah," said Pam, "we'll catch up with you later."

A slow grin spread on Kevin's face, prompting Jim to push him out the door. "Thanks, buddy, really."

"Okay, but don't-"

Jim locked the door and turned back to Pam. "Finally."

Pam smiled. "Finally." She walked over to Jim's desk. "Come here."

Jim gave her a questioning look, but followed.

Pam positioned Jim in front of his desk and looked into his eyes. "I have a lot of things to say to you," she said. "But before I do, I have a favor to ask."

"What's that?"

"I'd like a do-over." Pam walked over to the light switches.

"A do-over?"

"Yes." Pam flipped the switches and all of the fluorescents went dark. The only light remaining in the office came from the computer monitors.

Jim opened his mouth to speak, but Pam held a finger to her lips.

Jim watched as Pam walked toward him, beautiful and resolute. When she stood before him, Pam said, "I'm in love with you, too, Jim Halpert."

Jim laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Then kiss me."

Pam smiled. "As you wish."

And of all the kisses in the history of kisses, this one became known simply as The Kiss.

"The End."

She sighs. "Ohhhhh, squeeeeee..."

He frowns. "Is that good?"

"Yes," she says in a dreamy voice.

"Well, that's good. It kinda sounded like you had an air leak."

She yawns.

"Let's get you to bed."

He tucks her in and wishes her sweet dreams, then walks softly down the hall to his own room. He changes quietly. As he slips into bed, his wife turns over to face him.

"Mmm. You're up late tonight."

"She wanted a bedtime story."

"The usual?"

He laughs softly. "The usual."

She's quiet for a moment, then, "Ryan?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to nag."

"I know. I'm sorry I was short with you."

She sighs and he knows she's smiling in the dark. "Goodnight, Ryan."

"Goodnight, Kelly."

She snuggles into her pillow, then her eyes pop open. "Oh! I almost forgot! Jim called. They'll be here at 1:00. Do you think you could mow the grass before then? Please please please?"

He laughs and kisses her.

"As you wish."