Disclaimer: Not mine.

Author's Note: This is it, people; I'm finally tying this sucker up. The chapter is sort of far-fetched, but let's face it, none of these chapters have really been plausible. Oops. ;D Thanks to everyone who's read the story, especially those of you who've given feedback – you're amazing!

Chapter 13: Banging

"Ehff…" Dwight moaned, halting for a third time in the middle of the path.

"Sweet Jesus," Angela muttered through gritted teeth, spotting the morning's next message:

Battlestar Galactica

Star Trek 2

Jim wants to bang Dwight

And Pam does, too.

After staring at the poem for a few moments with bug eyes, Dwight whispered, "Who do you think wrote it?"

"I really doubt it was Jim and Pam," Angela said, her steely voice dripping sarcasm.

"Do you?" Dwight said, still whispering, completely oblivious to her tone in his state of utter discomfort. "Maybe it was Oscar? Or maybe the message is about a different Dwight?"

Angela rolled her eyes. "How many other Dwights do you know?"

"Seven."

Dwight ticked off his fingers in front of the camera. "My dad, my grandfather, four of my cousins, and my bank teller are all named Dwight." He thought for a moment. "Except one of my cousins spells it with a silent 'l.' He's the odd ball of the family."

Angela's eyes performed some more acrobatics. "Let me rephrase that: how many other Dwights do you know who, at this moment, are right here in these remote Pennsylvania woods as a part of a trip for an obscure paper company?"

"Er…just one?"

"Exactly!" said Angela. "So, based on these messages…I think that Pam and Jim actually like you! Enough to want to – as they so crudely put it – bang you!" Angela used her middle and index fingers to make violent air quotes.

"That is not possible," Dwight said. He crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to seem sure of himself, but the waver in a voice betrayed his doubt. "They don't want to do…that. This is a prank. Just another prank."

"Is it?" Angela mused. "Or did they just react to our letter in a horrifying, unexpected way!?"

"We wrote them a letter," Angela told the camera tersely. "I slipped it in Jim's sweatshirt pocket while Dwight distracted him, as was part of Plan A. It declared Dwight's undying – and fabricated – love for Jim." Angela bit her lip. "It was supposed to make her jealous, but now I just think it's…turned her on!" She scowled.

"They shouldn't be much longer now," Jim said, peering expectantly up the path and drumming his fingers on the rock.

Pam giggled.

"What?" Jim said, smiling down at her.

"I was just thinking about the letter," she chuckled. "Read it again?"

With a flourish, Jim tugged from his pocket and unfurled a piece of yellow, lined paper. He cleared his throat noisily and made a show of smoothing his features. He read solemnly, "Dear Jim: I love you. Although I denied this love at the beach this morning, it was only because other people were around…namely Pam, your girlfriend; although I'm sure you'll dump her for me, now that you know your feelings of intense adoration are mutual. Let's do it doggie-style so we can both watch X-files. Love, Dwight."

Pam giggled again. "That will never get old. And I love that it's in Angela's handwriting."

Jim chuckled. "So sneaky. But really, I think it's the line from 'The Bad Touch' that brings it all together."

"I agree. I can't believe Dwight listens to the Bloodhound Gang…."

"How do you know Dwight stuck in those lyrics? Maybe Angela listens to crude music about sex…."

Pam dissolved into giggles again.

"America has voted," Michael crowed in his best Ryan Seacrest imitation, "and tonight, one of you will go home!"

"Aren't we all going home?" Phyllis piped up from the audience, having been voted off by America (so…voted off by Michael) in an earlier round.

Michael sighed. "I mean that we're going to pick the winner."

"We're going to pick the winner?" Oscar echoed. "Does that mean that the judging panel actually gets to have a say in who wins?"

Michael grinned. "Yeppers."

Oscar looked pleased. Karen didn't. "Oh joy," Stanley muttered, scratching away at a fresh puzzle.

"Can you quit stalling and pick already?" Kelly squealed, jumping up and down impatiently next to Andy, the other finalist. Andy, unlike Kelly, stood serenely, arms crossed smugly over his chest.

"I got this in the bag," he bragged to the camera.

"So, can we talk about who gets to stay?" Oscar ventured.

"Not yet," said Michael. "Kelly and Andy get to sing one more song apiece."

This time, Karen joined Stanley in sarcastically mumbling, "Excellent…."

"Ohmigod!" Kelly squealed. "I know exactly what song I'm going to sing!"

"Not so fast, Kelly!" said Michael. "For this final round, there's a theme!"

Kelly's face fell. Everybody exchanged nervous glances. "What's the theme, Michael?" Phyllis ventured tentatively.

Michael grinned. "The Police."

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" Kevin hollered.

"I just got out last round!" Kevin fumed at the camera. "Michael is just doing this to make me mad. Stupid cover band…never comes in handy…and if either of them sings Synchronicity – I or II – I will never share my Cup-o-Noodles with them again."

"YOU!" shouted a shrill voice. Pam started at the noise, upsetting herself and nearly toppling off the rock. Jim steadied her with a grin. "They're here!" he announced unnecessarily, as Dwight and Angela had finally stridden into view.

Angela stormed right up to where the couple sat perched. She jabbed her pointer finger at them. "YOU!" she cried again.

"Hey, Angela," Jim said casually. "What's up?"

"You tell me!" she cried, her face flushed and her eyes frantic.

Jim ignored her and instead addressed Dwight, who had materialized at her side, breathless and pallid. Jim winked at him, causing Dwight to blanch further and Angela, conversely, to turn a funny purple color.

"Hey, Dwight," Pam said huskily, leaning towards him. Angela spluttered and slapped away the hand that Pam used to fix Dwight's ruffled hair. Dwight's eyes went wide and Jim tried not to snort.

"What's going on here?" Angela demanded. "Why are you leaving Dwight these…these…vulgar messages?!"

"Well, when I found out that my feelings for Dwight weren't unrequited," Jim said, brandishing the letter at Angela, "I needed to express myself."

"And when I realized that Dwight and Jim had such strong feelings for each other," Pam added, "I was psyched."
"Don't you mean 'jealous'?" said Dwight.

"No, I was definitely pumped. Because, you know, Jim's really great, but…I've been looking to…well, how do I put this…spice things up?"

Angela and Dwight just gaped.

"Yeah," Pam continued. "And seeing as the three of us all love each other so much, I figured this was a perfect opportunity to propose a solution to my bedroom boredom."

"And the messages are just there to show how pumped we are that Dwight accepted," Jim finished.

"I didn't accept anything!" Dwight protested, shocked. "I have no idea what you're talking about!"

Pam giggled. "Oh Dwight, you're such a joker."

Jim produced a second piece of paper from the pocket of his sweatshirt – also lined and yellow. He handed it to Angela, whose jaw dropped as she read it. She finished the quick note, then reeled on Dwight, who blundered backwards as she advanced on him.

"YOU AGREED TO A THREESOME WITH JIM AND PAM!?" she screamed, whacking him with her bag.

"I didn't do that! I didn't!" Dwight protested.

"LIAR!" Angela screamed. "I have the proof, right here! This note of acceptance is in your handwriting! And it's on my personalized legal pad, which only you and I have access tom and I definitely didn't write this!"

"It's not!" Dwight cried, shielding his face from Angela's pack with his arms.

"It's not his handwriting," Pam confirmed for the camera, "but…it's pretty darn close, if I do say so myself. We've been practicing calligraphy in art class." She smiled proudly.

Jim smiled lazily at the camera. "Remind me to thank Kevin again later for the piece of paper."

With glee, Jim and Pam watched the hectic, melodramatic scene continue to unfold before them from their front row seats on the rock.

"You are disgusting," Angela spit at Dwight, throwing her bag at his feet.

"Monkey, I swear, I don't want to have a threesome with them!" Dwight defended himself. Jim snapped his fingers in an "aw, shucks" gesture, and Pam covered a smile.

"Well," Jim said, "if you're going to go back on your word, I guess Pam and I could just ask Kevin."

"Yeah," Pam agreed. "I'm a big fan of cuddling while watching bowling."

Angela looked like she was going to vomit.

"Dwight," she seethed at the camera, "has a lot of explaining to do! To make up for all the confusion, he owes me two hundred and twenty seven Hail Marys and a new cat. Black, preferably, with white socks and a pink collar. And if its name is 'Garbage,' I'll risk going to hell for breaking one of the Commandments and personally murder Dwight with a size 22 knitting needle."

Dwight just shook his head, dumbfounded. "Never again will I mess with Jim," he vowed. He shuddered. "Angela is scary when she's angry…."

The four missing people entered camp as Andy finished the final strains of "Message in a Bottle" and bowed to the applause of his audience. Beaming around at the Dunder-Mifflinites, he recognized the new arrivals.

"Tuna!" Andy cried. "What the hell! You never brought us our microphone-sticks!"

Jim shrugged. "Sorry. I found Dwight and Angela, though." Pam coughed pointedly. "Oh, and Pam helped." She smiled sweetly.

Michael rushed over. "Where were you guys?" he said to Dwight. Angela cut in.

"Dwight can't talk right now," she said sternly, stepping in front of the stooped, muttering salesman. "He's repenting his sins."

"What are you doing with that necklace?" Michael asked Dwight, who was running a chain through his fingers while he mumbled.

Angela answered for him again. "Rosary beads," she corrected the boss. "And leave Dwight alone. He has a filthy soul and a lot of praying to do."

"Michael!" Kelly whined, interrupting the conversation. "Who wins?"

"We still have to talk about it," Oscar told her, gesturing to Karen, Stanley, and himself.

"No," Michael breathed. "We don't need to pick a winner…because…at Dunder-Mifflin, everybody is a winner!"

Kelly pouted. Andy looked crushed. "Lame," Kevin declared.

"Can we go home now?" Toby begged.

"No, I no longer think that my bonding trip was a success," Michael told the camera, struggling to keep a smile off his face. After a few seconds, a toothy grin burst across his face. "It was a HUGE, GIGANTIC, MASSIVE MIRACLE!" he gushed. "Everybody had the time of their lives, and I know that Jim and Dwight are okay now, because nobody can even remember what got them mad in the first place." He paused for a moment, thinking. "I…actually can't remember…did it have something to do with Sour Patch Kids?"

"I can't believe," Karen said flatly, "that I just spent two days in the woods because of saran wrap. I'm swearing off cellophane for life."

"Hail Mary, full of grace…" Dwight mumbled.

"It would have been fun if I had won American Idol," Kelly complained, "but now I'll never know who's better, me or Andy…even though it's definitely me. I'm awesome."

Pam sighed contentedly. "All in all, this was a pretty productive weekend. Definitely wasn't worth fifteen dollars, but hey. Andy jumped in a stream, Dwight showed off his boxers to the world, and Angela beat up a coworker. You don't see things like that every day."

"I finally feel like I've gotten even with Dwight. I really owe Angela a favor now, for having him on such a short leash, and providing me with all this satisfaction." Jim grinned. "Retaliation is oh so sweet."