Mistaken Identity
By lurkisblurkis and PadmeKSkywalker
Disclaimer: We do not own addictinggames dot com or Harry Potter. The Office belongs to NBC. Jim belongs to Pam, and vice versa.
ID card day at Dunder-Mifflin was a yearly event. Its usual victims included Dwight and Kevin, and occasionally Ryan if Michael felt particularly juvenile. But normally Jim Halpert was well-liked enough that nobody tried to pull anything on him.
This year, however, there was no prank involved: just an extremely unfortunate typo.
Jim blinked. It didn't disappear.
"Uh, Toby?"
The HR representative turned back to him with all the attitude of a weary sigh, if not the actual sound. "Yeah?" he replied mildly.
Jim held up the ID card in his hand. "It's no big deal, really," he demurred. "Just…my last name's not Hellbert."
Now it was Toby's turn to blink. He took the card from Jim and double-checked it.
"Huh," he remarked. "That's weird."
Jim waited for a beat, but Toby didn't seem to have anything more to say. "So…can you fix it?"
"What?"
"Can you fix it. The typo."
Toby shook his head and handed the card back to Jim. "We're out of printer cards for today. But…I can get more tomorrow and get you a new card then."
"Wait—so—" Jim stared between the card and the placid face of the HR representative. "I don't have to wear this for the rest of—"
"Sorry, man." With a parting shrug, Toby returned to his desk in the corner, and Jim was left with the dismal prospect of being "Mr. Hellbert" for the remainder of the day.
"Hellbert?"
Somehow it sounded even more ridiculous coming from her mouth. "Ah, yes," Jim admitted.
"I like it. How did you manage that?" she demanded with a grin.
"I really don't know." He cleared his throat and examined the surface of the desk keenly.
"Well, did you write it down or just tell it to him?"
"Pam, I can't be expected to remember every detail of my life for the past few days. I don't pay attention to this sort of thing. That's your job."
"Wait…" Pam scooted her chair back toward the filing cabinet. "Yep, right here. You wrote it down as 'Halpert,' looks like. But then, you have awful handwriting," she added impishly.
"But I don't make up new letters out of nowhere," Jim protested.
She shook her head. "Maybe Dwight did it."
"Dwight?" Jim blinked and looked over his shoulder to where Dwight was meticulously straightening his own ID card so that it rested exactly over his heart ("It could save my life someday," he heard him whisper to Ryan, who nodded absently). "Yeah, because Dwight's imaginative enough to think up something like this. Besides, he hasn't played a retaliation prank on me in two and a half years."
"What did he do then?"
Jim grinned. "He put a whoopee cushion in my chair."
Pam smothered something between a snort and a laugh. "And did you sit on it?"
He looked affronted. "Of course not. I told him it was an expired model that was illegal to sell or own in the U.S., and advised him, as a very concerned friend, to get out of the country as quickly as possible." He scrunched up his face. "I think he got as far as New Hampshire."
The broad grin on Pam's face, he thought, was probably worth whatever humiliation he would be facing for the rest of the day.
Jim tried to slouch over his desk in such a way that his computer monitor would hide the left side of his chest from Dwight's beady eyes. It was working, for a while, until he straightened up to return a conspiratorial smile from the receptionist.
"Question: What is that on your shirt?"
Jim swore under his breath. "Umm, what are you talking about, Dwight?"
"Don't play games with me," the other salesman sneered. "You know exactly what I mean."
"Oh, the ID card?" Jim glanced down at it nonchalantly. "That's really simple. See, it has your name on it, and then anybody from the company who doesn't know who you are can just—"
"No, you idiot, what does it say?" Dwight knocked over a pencil holder or two as he leaned over the desk straining to read the small print.
Jim sat back lazily, forcing Dwight to keep going forward until his belly was splayed on their shared desks. "I'm hurt, Dwight. All these years and you don't remember my name."
"That's not your name, is it?"
"Of course it's my name! What else would you expect to find on my—"
"HELLBERT!"
Jim put on his innocent face. "Yes, Dwight?"
Dwight sat back and pointed wildly at Jim's shirt, a devilish grin appearing on his face. "Jim's tag says 'Hellbert' on it!" he announced fanatically. "Jim Hellbert! Halpert from Hell! Hellbert, Hellbert, Hellbert!"
"Why are you making such a big deal out of this?" Jim asked, raising his eyebrows. "I mean, your name is Schrute, but I never make fun of—"
"Your name," said Dwight forcefully, "is not Hellbert."
"Ah…yes, it is."
Dwight narrowed his eyes. "No it is not."
"Yes, it is." Jim crossed his arms. "I think I would know my own name, Dwight."
Dwight sat erect and twisted in his wheely chair. "Pam. What is Jim's last name?"
"Halpert," Pam replied as if she hadn't been listening to the conversation.
"See?" smiled Dwight triumphantly as he turned back to Jim.
Jim burst out laughing and swung his chair around to face Pam. "No. Way. Beesly, you did not just say what I think you did."
"What?" Pam spread her hands wide, her face perfectly deadpan. "I just said your name!"
"You mean all these years you've thought my name was—Hal-pert?" Jim exclaimed, pronouncing his name with a curious accent.
"Oh wow, you're not serious," Pam gasped. "That is so embarrassing! I just can't believe—"
"Whoa whoa whoa, slow down, you two!" Dwight ordered, holding his arms out at his side. "I know you two are trying to pull something on me, I know your name is not Hellbert, and just to prove it I am going to ask Michael right now!"
He stood up and marched toward to Regional Manager's office. Jim and Pam watched him silently, twin expressions of disbelief on their faces.
Pam raised a questioning eyebrow at Jim. He shrugged back and shook his head.
"Michael."
Regional Manager Michael Scott was seated behind his desk, typing hunt-and-peck on his computer keyboard and wearing a look of severe concentration as he attempted to battle his way through The Fight For Glorton. He barely looked up as Dwight entered the room.
"Hey Dwight." He scrabbled on the keyboard, apparently trying to make himself appear a skilled typist.
"Michael, I have a very important—"
"Hey, have you ever been to this website?" interjected Michael excitedly, his eyes still glued to the screen. "It's called AddictingGames dot Com, and it's got all these games, and I'm just totally addicted to them. Like this one—so cool—"
"I have no time for your games, Michael!" Dwight insisted. "I have a very important question to ask you!"
"Yeah…just…wait till I'm finished with this level…"
Dwight stood impatiently behind the desk for the next seven and a half minutes, at which point Michael gave a loud, "Aw, MAN!" and punched the keyboard. Ordinarily Dwight would have warned him about the potential damage that such behavior could cause to expensive company property, but there were greater things at stake here.
"What," Dwight demanded very seriously, "is Jim Halpert's last name?"
"You know, Dwight," Michael sighed, mouse-clicking dismally, "the internet is really an amazing invention. You know how much time I've spent on this thing since yesterday?"
"It's a matter of great importance—"
"It's like…it's like a great big…web, full of tiny little strands, and on those strands are little spiders, and they can go anywhere they want on the web…eating flies, or spinning more web, or…chatting, with other spiders." Michael looked up. "You know what I am, Dwight? I am one of the spiders who chats."
"Michael—"
"Look, just now I've gotten another chat invitation." He pointed at the screen. "I'm in the Dunder-Mifflin chatroom talking to a 'JHellbert'." He paused. "Hey, I think it might be Jim."
"Michael, that's what I'm—"
"'Hey, Jim,'" said Michael loudly, carefully typing out his words. "'What are the haps? I saw your girlfriend at the grocery store yester-8.'" He stopped and grinned at Dwight. "Extra numbers in words. Internet lingo."
"MICHAEL! Is Jim's last name Halpert or Hellbert?"
Michael hit Enter and stared up at Dwight. There was a long moment of silence. "Well…his screen name is Hellbert…so, I guess that's your answer."
Dwight frowned. "But that's not his name."
"Dwight, why would he make up a screen name that wasn't his real name?" Michael said in an extremely disparaging tone. "Everyone knows you can't lie on the Internet."
"But—"
"Dwight, you're an idiot. Go, get out of my office and do…something that has to do with paper."
Dwight stumbled out the door and shut it carefully behind him. His face, Jim and Pam noticed with a discreetly shared grin, was ashen.
Jim raised an eyebrow expectantly. "Well?"
Dwight took a very deep breath. "I don't know what kind of mind games you're trying to play, Hellbert or Halpert or Dilbert or whoever you are—but you can't fool me. I am in control of my mind and I know how to defend it using, among several other methods, the ancient art of Occlumency."
Jim, for a brief moment, was totally speechless. "You mean, like, from Harry Potter."
"Exactly."
"I have to admit," said Jim sincerely, "you continue to amaze me, Mr. Schrute."
Dwight raised his head and looked down his nose at the other salesman, but said nothing as he walked stiffly over to his desk and sat down.
Beneath the cover of her desk, Pam was silently applauding.
At 5:01, the office was already mostly empty, with the notable exceptions of Dwight, who was staying late at Michael's request, and Jim and Pam, who were staying late to make sure that Dwight's brainwashing was officially complete.
"Well, Miss Beesly, guess I should be getting home," said Jim loudly, standing and flashing his ID card once more in Dwight's general direction for good measure.
"Have a good night, Jim," said Pam cheerily as he reached for his coat and shrugged it on.
"You too." Jim waved at the door. "Bye, Dwight."
From behind Dwight's computer monitor came a sullen, "Bye, Hellbert."
Jim's face was one of such overwhelming delight that Pam had to duck behind her desk to let loose a storm of giggles. When she looked up again, Jim Hellbert had gone.
The next morning just before 9:00, Toby ran into Jim in the Dunder-Mifflin lobby downstairs. "Hey, good news," he said, with nothing in his tone to indicate that the news was such. "I found some extra printing cards last night, and I was able to make another ID card for you."
"Oh, great," Jim said enthusiastically, quickly removing his defective one and taking the card that Toby offered him. "Thanks, Toby. It was…kind of weird being called Hellbert for a whole day."
"Yeah," Toby replied. He stood there for a minute and then mumbled, "Well, see you upstairs," before heading toward the elevator.
Dwight was in the office early sorting papers methodically. Just as Jim walked in the door, Dwight was on his way to Pam's desk to get to the copying machine. His eyes flicked upwards to rest on Jim's chest for a moment.
"Nametag's wrong," he muttered.
Jim stopped in mid-stride and gave him a look of complete bewilderment.
"Um…no, it's not. I got it yesterday, it's got everything on it."
"Hellbert, Halpert. Can you read?"
"Dwight, I'm not an idiot," Jim protested. ("Debatable," retorted Dwight under his breath.) "It says right here. H-a-l-p-e-r-t. That's my name. I'm…Jim Halpert."
For the first time during the exchange, Dwight raised his head and looked directly at Jim. His eyes were lit with suspicion. "You told me," he said, very slowly, "that your name was…"
Jim shook his head and walked to his desk. "Dwight, I don't know what's up with you today. Maybe you're working too hard or something."
From the receptionist's desk a bright "Morning, Halpert!" sounded. Pam waved and tapped the desk by the new jar of jellybeans that she had just poured.
Dwight looked from one to the other. Pam popped a jellybean into her mouth, and Jim was already bent over his keyboard.
"I'm…just going to get some coffee," Dwight said, to no one in particular. His voice was very vague. "I think I need to wake up a little."
About half an hour later, Pam did a double-take and then whispered for Jim to come over. He set down what he was working on and came to lean over on the desk. "What's up, Beesly?"
"Um…" She looked around, then leaned in. "You…you know it says 'Jam' now, right?"
Jim stared at her as her words sank in. "Shut up."
She pointed to his ID card.
"Oh, god," groaned Jim. "What did I ever do to Toby?"
-fin-