Dennis chronicles

[psifi872]

3. meeting Phoenix, including James, and not being welcomed properly/Jack punching mean!James,
6. singing "the cover is not the book" obnoxiously to terrorist king and getting ears pierced,
13. Someone says something about threatening Dennis, referring to him as a baby. Dennis is all "Who? Who threatened a baby?!"
14. Teen Dennis in alternate universe rescuing child hostages from terrorists, while Phoenix, not knowing him, are dealing with multi versions of Murdoc,
16. Dennis helps Mac blow up room 'I want to do it Daddy! Me!" "Can I give you advice as one father to another? Learn how to say no."
19. Cassian reacting to Mac being, well, Mac. Science nerd and genius who sets things on fire.

3/13/16, 8, 6, 14/15


October 9th, 3 A.M.

Cassian stirred awake, feeling something soft brush across his face. Forcing his eyes open, he saw his dad...no, Dennis' face just above his, his lips still puckered from giving Cassian's cheek a kiss.

"Wha...?"

"Sleep?" Dennis said, in a loud whisper. "Cass'n sleep?"

"Mmmhmmm. Go back to bed, Dennis. It's okay," Cassian assured him, reaching out and stroking Dennis' hair.

"'kay? Cass'n sleep," Dennis said agreeably, placing another kiss on Cassian's forehead.

"Yep, time to sleep."

"Yah. Sleep," Dennis said, hopping down from the bed and toddling towards the door, picking Bark up from the floor as he went.

Cassian sighed, burrowing back into his pillow. He pointedly didn't reflect on the fact that a toddler had just checked on him, like a good dad would. Dennis couldn't be his dad anymore and Cassian was determined to just accept that fact and moved on. He was still loved. They were just brothers now and their adopted dad was turning out to be really cool. Weird, in his own way, but cool. His attempt at emptying his thoughts was disrupted by a thump, coming from the opposite direction of Dennis' room.

Groaning, Cassian got up and went to MacGyver's bedroom, knocking softly on the door. A moment later, MacGyver appeared, frowning with concern.

"Cassian?" MacGyver asked, his voice rough with sleep. "What's wrong, buddy?"

"Dennis is up and wandering around. He was in my room. I tried to send him back to bed, but I think he went downstairs."

MacGyver gave a wry chuckle.

"Yeah, okay. Go on back to bed," MacGyver said soothingly, tousling Cassian's hair. "I'll get him."

"Thanks, Dad."

"No problem."

MacGyver trudged downstairs, not sure what to expect. He found Dennis in the front hallway, waving around one of the small flashlights that MacGyver seemed to accumulate, without meaning to. Dennis stood next to the door, shining his light into the small area between the coin-operated horse and the wall.

"Dennis. What are you doing?"

"Look."

"At what?" MacGyver asked, with fairly good humor.

"What? No? Look!"

Dennis suited action to word, waving the flashlight around and running over to examine the area around the stuffed polar bear.

"Dennis, not now. It's bedtime."

"No! I see!" Dennis argued, running over to one of MacGyver's mannequin heads and frowning. "Green!"

"Yeah, it's green."

"Is face. Green!"

"Yeah, it's a green face," MacGyver agreed with weary humor.

"Yugg?"

"It's not ill. It's just green."

"Ooof."

"Dennis, come on. You're going to bed."

"Daddy! Look!" Dennis whined.

Making a shushing sound, Dennis ran over to the corner, then carefully poked his head, then the flashlight around to the other side. He jumped back, then moved and took another, longer look. Sighing, MacGyver walked over to Dennis and picked him up, grabbing the flashlight. Dennis gave a startled gasp, then laughed, when MacGyver held the flashlight under his own chin and moaned out a long "Boooooooo."

"Okay, kid. Times up. There's no one here, but us. Bedtime."

"No? One?"

"Yup, just us."

"Us?"

"Yeah."

"Daddy?"

"Mmhmmm," MacGyver hummed in agreement, walking into Dennis' room and sitting on his bed, with Dennis on his lap.

"Ang's? Daddy?"

"Yep, that's me."

"Yah. Daddy, Ang's?"

"Yep."

"Ang's. Daddy. Daddy. Ang's. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. Ang's. Daddy," Dennis repeated, giving a thoughtful little nod, before looking up MacGyver, eyebrows arched. "Mine? Daddy?"

"Yes, I'm your daddy," MacGyver agreed, laughing a bit.

"Yah. Ang's. Daddy. Daddy. Cass'n? Daddy?" Dennis asked, emphasizing the question with a wave of his hand.

"Yes," MacGyver said soothingly. "I'm Cassian's daddy, too. He needs a daddy."

"Yah. Cass'n. Daddy. Mine. Daddy."

MacGyver gave a sigh, reaching down and kissing the top of Dennis' head. He wished he knew if this was merely toddler babbling, learning through repetition, or if Dennis was harboring any real anxieties. The boy had plenty of reason to be confused.

"Yes, I'm your daddy. Dennis' and Cassian's daddy."

The kiss and assurance seemed to startle Dennis, who sat back, looking up at MacGyver with wide eyes. MacGyver wondered if he'd upset him, but Dennis leaned up, placing a kiss on MacGyver's chin. MacGyver couldn't help the wide grin he gave, especially when Dennis followed the kiss with a wide yawn.

"Ang's. Mine. Daddy," Dennis said, happily, then leaned over, resting against MacGyver's chest.

MacGyver sat, cradling Dennis, until he was sound asleep, then tucked him into bed with Bark.

"G'night, kiddo."

A warm spring day. Dennis is almost two.

Dennis ran out the door, as Jack came inside, heading down the sidewalk towards the street. Laughing, Jack and MacGyver chased after him.

"Hey! Baby 'doc! Where you going?" Jack called after him.

Dennis turned around and ran back towards them, stopping on the path.

"Jagg?"

"Yeah, hi. Where do you think you were going?"

"I go! Daaa..." Dennis said, pointing towards the street, "...ere," swinging his hand to the left of him, "ooor yaaa," swinging his hand to the right, "wooohoooowoooo," he cried happily, pointing to the sky and making circles with his finger, "'en here, YES!" Dennis finished, grinning, pulling his arms in tight, with his eyes and fists squeezed tight in a gesture of victory.

"Okay, the helicopter thing worries me," MacGyver admitted, chuckling.

"Hey, he just laid his whole scheme out for us. Too bad we didn't understand a word," Jack teased, grinning.

"That might be a good thing. I have a better idea," MacGyver told Dennis. "How about we go inside and play with your blocks instead?"

"Bloggs? Yay!" Dennis agreed, clapping his hands.

"All right, let's go in," MacGyver said, taking his hand and leading Dennis to the door, Jack following alongside them.

A summer day. Dennis is two now, though not by much.

Cassian rushed into the house, finding MacGyver and Jack in the living room. MacGyver looked up from tinkering on a radio.

"Dad, Dennis got hold of a hammer! He's bashing away at the ground and screaming!"

"Okay, I'll get him," MacGyver promised, hurrying outside, with Jack.

He'd allowed the boys to play in the front yard, as long as Cassian kept a close eye on Dennis. The front sidewalk was now covered in bright chalk marks. The sidewalk chalk had been abandoned though. Dennis was crouching over one section, banging a hammer onto it, with tears streaming down his cheeks. Dennis swung particularly hard and the hammer bounced up, almost catching him in the face.

"Dennis," MacGyver swore, running over and taking the hammer. "What are you doing?!"

"Get me!" Dennis wailed, pointing at his shadow, then tracing a path with his finger across the yard. "Thing git me! I go dere and oooo'er and bak and it git me!"

Dennis clutched his hands to his chest in emphasis, while MacGyver stared in bewilderment.

"Dennis, your shadow is not trying to get you," MacGyver said trying to edge his voice away from disbelief to comfort.

"Yah! I go, dere, dere, dere and GIT ME!" Dennis sobbed, turning and trying to kick at his shadow.

Jack picked Dennis up, unable to hide his chuckles. Dennis put his arms around Jack's neck, pressing their cheeks together. Jack was startled to find the boy was actually trembling.

"Aw, c'mon, Baby 'doc," Jack soothed. "That's just your shadow."

"Mine?! No. Nah want! Go AWAY!" Dennis screeched down at his shadow, waving his hand threateningly.

"Dennis, it isn't alive. It's just where the sunlight isn't getting around you," MacGyver tried to explain.

"Git me, Daddy. Git and EAT me," Dennis decided, pouting.

"Um, can I try?" Cassian asked, receiving nods from his dad and Jack. "Dennis, it wasn't chasing you. It was trying to say hello."

"Huh? 'lo?" Dennis asked.

"Yeah, see? This is my shadow," Cassian assured him, pointing out his own shadow. "It just wants to be friends. Why scream and hit, when you can be friends?"

"Shaaa. Dow? Fends?"

"Yeah. You should be friends with your shadow. They're lots of fun. Wanna see?"

"Yah?" Dennis agreed, squirming to get down.

Jack set him down, giving Cassian a wink and a thumbs up. Cassian grinned back and took Dennis' hand.

"See? Can you wave at your shadow? Wave hello?"

Dennis gave Cassian a puzzled look, but obeyed, holding up his hand and waving it back and forth. The shadow copied him and Dennis gave a startled laugh.

"It hi?"

"Sure. You can even dance a bit with your shadow, if you're careful."

Cassian moved slowly around, guiding Dennis, so their shadows followed them, appearing, at least a bit, to dance around them. Dennis laughed some more, clapping his hands.

"Fend!"

"Yup. On sunny days, your shadow plays with you."

"Play me? Shadow. Play!"

"Cassian, where did he get the hammer from? Did you see?"

"I think he got it from Uncle Jack's truck."

"Mine?" Dennis asked, reaching for the hammer.

"Nope, not yours," MacGyver told him, firmly. "This is for bigger people. You play with your chalk and your trains."

"OOooh," Dennis complained, then brightened. "Draw? Shadow?"

"Sure, draw your shadow," MacGyver agreed, glad this particular crisis was over.

Someday, he promised himself, he would tease Dennis about the time he was literally afraid of his own shadow.

Smol boy is still smol. Two and half, maybe? And Bozer has been baby-sitting/visiting.

Dennis hurried into the living room, his rushing hampered by the large, glass jar he had clutched to his chest.

"Bozer! Uncle Bozer! We have a problem!" Dennis cried, skidding to a stop in front of Bozer.

"What's wrong?" Bozer asked. "What's with the jar?"

"It's EMPTY!" Dennis told him, holding the jar up for inspection. "Look! Not even one little pickle!"

"Dennis," Bozer said flatly. "Is that the jar of pickles I opened for you this morning?"

"Yah and they're gone!"

"You and I have been mostly alone here all day and I have not eaten any pickles," Bozer told him, wearily.

"No. You didn't," Dennis agreed, nodding.

"I'm pretty sure your parents and Cassian haven't eaten any, since they got home."

"Nope."

"Which means, you ate that entire jar of pickles by yourself," Bozer concluded dryly.

"Yeah. They're gone," Dennis protested.

"Because you ate them."

"Yeah?"

"Dennis, no one is going to the store at seven at night, because you managed to eat an entire jar of pickles in eight hours," Bozer said, firmly.

"He did what?!" MacGyver said, coming into the room.

"Daddy! I need more pickles!" Dennis pleaded.

"Is that the jar I bought yesterday?" MacGyver asked, disbelieving, watching Bozer nod in agreement.

"They're all gone. Not even one little pickle left!"

"Uh, yeah. You definitely do not need any more pickles, Dennis. If you're still hungry, which should be impossible, you can have a banana, or a hot dog, or a piece of cheese. We'll get more pickles, the next time we go shopping."

"No more pickles?" Dennis whined.

"Not until I shop again and, from now on, you can only have two pickles a day. You don't need to eat an entire jar!"

"But I want pickles!" Dennis demanded.

"Well, you ate them all, so there aren't any," MacGyver reasoned, giving a slight laugh. "That's why you shouldn't eat them all at once."

"Ohhhh. O-kay," Dennis agreed, sadly.

Bozer picked Dennis up, giving him a hug.

"Come on, buddy. Let's give your daddy the jar," Bozer said, handing the jar to Mac. "You wanna do some drawing? You want to make pretty pictures?"

"You draw me Bark?"

"Yeah, I'll draw Bark for you," Bozer agreed, laughing dryly.

Dennis is old enough to do this and young enough to really not know better. And, he has opinions.

MacGyver and Jack sat out on the patio, chatting and de-stressing from their latest mission. Hearing a knock on it, MacGyver got up and opened the patio door. Dennis came through, dragging his little wagon.

The wagon was brimming with food, including a large platter of ham and other leftovers from Thanksgiving.

"Dennis, why do you have half of the refrigerator in your wagon?" MacGyver asked, bemused.

"I very hungry, Daddy!"

"You gonna eat all that, Baby 'doc?" Jack asked, laughing.

"No!" Dennis laughed. "I gotta show you what I want."

"Okay," MacGyver asked dryly, sitting back down. "What do you want?"

"Okay," Dennis echoed, parking the wagon between himself and MacGyver. "I want ham, with tomatoes, on bread, with this!"

Dennis held up a jar of mayonnaise.

"I want this one. Not that other one," Dennis protested, gesturing towards the kitchen. He gave the mayonnaise a friendly pat. "This one!"

"Yeah, I know how you feel about salad dressing," MacGyver assured him, chuckling.

"It's very yuck."

"Uh huh. What else? You have a lot more stuff there."

"Yeah. I got cheesy potatoes! I love cheesy potatoes. And, I do want pickles, but, but, not on my sandwich!" Dennis clarified, holding his hand up. "I can eat these by themselves."

"Yeah, believe me, we know," Jack agreed, smirking.

"Yeah, you do know," Dennis agreed, shamelessly, grinning. "And, olives! Olives are nice, too."

"Damn, Baby 'doc, you are hungry."

"Jack, language," MacGyver scolded mildly.

"Sorry."

"Dennis, what do you want with this?" MacGyver asked, holding up a jar of garlic cloves.

Confusion settled over Dennis' face.

"Um. I don't know those?" he admitted, then shrugged. "I brought those just in case."

"Okay, well, you don't eat these by themselves," MacGyver explained. "You cook with them. Now, I have another question for you."

"Yeah?"

"Why did you drag all of this out? Wouldn't it have been easier to just come out here and say, 'Daddy, I want a sandwich, please'?"

"No! Not just sandwich..."

"And some sides," MacGyver amended, hastily, shrugging.

"Siiides, yes. Cheesy potatoes," Dennis emphasized.

"Okay, but if you had just asked, you'd be eating by now."

"Well, I helped! I was bringing you the stuffs."

"Oh, okay," MacGyver laughed. "Well, now we have to take all this stuff back, because sandwiches are made in the kitchen."

"Okay!" Dennis agreed cheerfully, grabbing the wagon's handle and tugging. "Here we go!"

"Would you like some help?"

"No, I'm smart and strong. I can."

"All right," MacGyver agreed, complacently, going and holding open the door.

Thursday, 4 P.M. Dennis is three.

Multi-dimensional transition layers for an exothermic reaction-diffusion system in long cylindrical domains by Masayasu Mimura and Kunimochi Sakamoto in the Journal of Mathematical Sciences at the University of Tokyo 1996

Dennis ran into James' living room from his den, a magazine clutched to his chest. James grinned, shaking his head. He'd really come to love having his grandsons visit, taking every opportunity he could to babysit them. He shoved away the pang of regret that he hadn't valued his own son's childhood and the memories they could have had. He was a father and a grandfather now and he knew that was more than he deserved.

"Paaaah-pop!" Dennis sang out, smiling slyly. "Guess what I got!"

"Something made of paper," James answered, chuckling.

"Yeah, it is made of paper!" Dennis agreed, handing James the magazine. "Read me?"

"Dennis, I don't think you'll enjoy this," James said gently. "Why don't we read one of the books I bought you?"

"Nooo," Dennis complained, upset. "This one! I picked!"

"Okay!" James said, hastily, deciding Dennis would change his mind, once James started reading. "Let's go sit down."

They sat together in James' armchair and Dennis settled in his lap, leaning against his Pah-pop's chest. James opened to the first article, a piece on exothermic reactions.

"'Variety of spatio and/or temporal patterns are observed in combustion processes with or without supply of fuel. In order to theoretically understand such pattern formations, several mathematical models have been proposed so far. Among them, we focus our attention on a thermal and diffusive equation which describes a single step exothermic reaction.'"

"Oh, see, Pap-pop? I like dinosaur stories. An exothermy!"

Right. Of course. What three year old didn't love dinosaurs? He continued reading, wondering what Dennis was really making of the article.

"'Namely, the concentration c decreases to zero and the temperature θ increases to a certain positive value as the time t progresses to ∞. Therefore the source of spatio-temporal patterns observed in exothermic reactions, such as combustion processes, has to be sought somewhere else.'"

"No food there. Keep looking, exothermy."

James paused, but only for a moment. Dennis was suitably entertained, it seemed, and James already knew the boy had a vivid imagination. He didn't dwell on how he would explain any of this to Angus. Then, again, he would probably be amused.

"'...respectively, the hot state and the cold state corresponding to the uniform reactant concentration λ. From the conditions in (A1), the cold state can not exist when the uniform reactant concentration is higher than Λ1, while the hot state can not exist for the uniform reactant concetration lower than Λ0..."

"A volcano!" Dennis gasped, eyes wide. "That poor exothermy!"

"'When, on the other hand, the diffusion rate is lower than the critical value d0, the diffusion effect of the reactant is no more capable of restoring the imbalance, and therefore, the equilibrium state can no longer be stable. As a result, the system starts to oscillate, as if, in an effort to settle down on a comfortable position.'"

"No, don't nap," Dennis scolded. "Naps aren't good!"

"Well, maybe he's an adult exothermy," James said, laughing. "Adults like naps."

"Sad," Dennis told him, flatly, shrugging.

"Maybe," James agreed, kissing the top of Dennis' head.

James kept reading, skipping the equations, hoping Dennis would think they were pictures of the story, which was true, in a way.

"'As the analyses in the previous sections show, it is technically complicated to treat the problem (1.5)-(1.8) directly. Therefore, from the practical view point of studying dynamical behaviour of (1.1), it is desirable to have a simple model which captures essential dynamics of (1.1).'"

"Oh, good, he found food! Exothermies get very hungry! Dynamics is yummy for them."

"I don't doubt it. I prefer a good piece of pie, myself. 'By an elementary computation after suitable change of variables and using g± < 0, one can show that ∂l2/∂p < 0. Therefore the equation l2(p, β) = 1/√d has a unique solution and the proof of Lemma 2.1 has been completed.'"

"The End!" Dennis cried happily. "That was good story, Pah-pop."

"I'm glad you liked it. Why don't you go see, if Cassian is done with his homework."

"Okay!"

Once he was gone, James pulled out his cellphone, calling Angus, even though he knew his son would be busy in the Phoenix labs.

"Hey, Dad, everything okay?"

"Yes. I just wanted to warn you that your youngest son thinks an exothermic reaction is a type of dinosaur. I'm sorry, but there really wasn't anything I could do."

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, followed by helpless laughter.

"Where did he even hear that phrase?"

"He insisted I read to him from one of my science journals."

"Ah. Okay, that...almost makes sense."

"In addition to warning you, I thought you might like to have him tell you...whatever story he was hearing inside his little head."

"Um. Yeah, no...thank you. I'll pass on that, if he lets me!" Angus disagreed, laughing.

"I wish you luck, son."

"Thanks, Dad! I should be over there in about an hour."

"All right. I'll have supper ready."

"Okay, see you then."

"Bye, Angus."

James got up, going to check on his much-loved grandchildren.

Dennis is three, maybe close to four. He's a sleepy baby.

Murdoc glared up at the young woman, who lurked behind her raised pedestal with a self-satisfied grin. Murdoc wanted to wipe that grin off the woman's face...if she even was a woman. She certainly wasn't human, not with skin that was not only gray, but intriguingly translucent in places. The boyscout didn't look intrigued though. He looked disturbed. And angry. Well, that was to be expected. Murdoc fully intended to kill their "host," given a quarter of a chance.

Murdoc appreciated a certain lawlessness, but he wouldn't tolerate being kidnapped.

"Why did you bring us here?" MacGyver demanded, earning an eye roll from his nemesis.

Murdoc didn't care why. He just wanted to kill her and go home. The thought must have communicated itself, somehow, because MacGyver shifted, moving slightly between Murdoc and their kidnapper.

"Curiosity," the woman answered, shrugging. "I am Zarla. I'm studying interdimensional variations among people of different species. I thought the variations of an assassin's relationships in alternate universes would be interesting. So, I chose you! And, wow, you two really do interact in a wide variety of ways."

"I'm sure," MacGyver said, flatly, unimpressed. "So, why bring us here?"

"Observation is so bland, after a while. And, I thought it would be interesting to see how you react to other versions of yourself!"

"We're the only ones here," Murdoc pointed out, impatiently, waving a hand at the mostly empty room.

The room was fairly large, well-lit, with lights and panels flickering on the wall. The walls were a bland shade of light blue. The floor was a clean white that made Murdoc long for mud on his well-shined boots.

"Well, let's fix that!" Zarla agreed, enthusiastically.

A square of orange light appeared a few feet away from them, starting off small, then growing larger and more rectangular. When the light disappeared, another version of MacGyver stood in the center of the room, gazing about in alarm.

"Ooo, two boyscouts!" Murdoc enthused. "I might forgive you, after all, Zarla!"

The newer MacGvyer's eyes swung to Murdoc, going wide.

"Murdoc?" he asked, hesitantly, his tone intrigued, but also...well, not afraid, but worried.

"Oh, yes! These are the MacGyver and Murdoc from dimension 58, 431 in the 92nd district of plurality."

"Whatever that means," MacGyver said, rolling his eyes. "Why am I here?"

"She's comparing relationships in different dimensions," Murdoc answered dryly, tilting his head as the other MacGyver studied him.

"Right. You..."

"I actually didn't mean to bring you," Zarla admitted. "I meant to bring your dimension's Murdoc. But, let's do a little survey, before I bring him here..."

"No!" MacGyver ordered.

"Oh, come on!" Zarla coaxed. "One teeny question! Ooo, like that game you humans play! Screw, marry, or kill? Would you rather forget about Murdoc entirely, marry him, or kill him?"

MacGyver shuddered.

"Yeah, I'll take a very hard pass on all of those."

"All of them?" Zarla asked, a bit surprised. "Even killing him? He's your enemy, right? He tried to kill you?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"If you're squeamish, I could do it for you," Zarla offered, with mock sweetness.

"You lay a hand on him and I'll break your neck," MacGyver warned her, hotly, his eyes wide with anger.

"Ooo. Maybe he's the killer in that universe!" Murdoc suggested.

"Keep dreaming, Murdoc," MacGyver answered, surprisingly amused, shaking his head.

"Let's find out," Zarla said, angrily, bringing back the orange light.

This time, when it cleared, a small boy with black hair and dark brown eyes stood in the room, clutching a blanket with a fox's head to his chest. He sobbed angrily, turning to Zarla and scowling. Murdoc stared, stunned, at himself as a tiny child.

"YOU ALMOST CUT MY BARK!" Dennis screamed. "You are bad stranger!"

"Dennis," MacGyver called to him, kneeling down and holding out his hands. "Come here, little guy. It's okay."

"Daddy!" Dennis cried, running into MacGyver's arms.

The first MacGyver stared in shocked wonder, sneaking a glance at his Murdoc. No matter how helpful Murdoc was, MacGyver never forgot he was an assassin. He was surprised to see a slightly wistful expression on his nemesis' face. MacGyver 2.0 gave them a wistful smile.

"He's my son, that's the 'variation,'" MacGyver 2.0 explained, standing with Dennis cradled in his arms.

MacGyver 1.0 just stared, looking back and forth between Murdoc and Dennis, trying to process.

"Daddy, listen!" Dennis complained. "I was 'sleep and a bad light got me. A-and, Bark wasn't all in. But, I snatched him."

"I'm sorry. It's okay."

"She did it, Daddy," Dennis told him, thrusting an accusing finger at Zarla. "It was her!"

"Shhhh," MacGyver soothed, standing with Dennis nestled in his arms. "I know. I know it was. Is Bark okay?"

"Yeah," Dennis said, with a sad, hiccuping noise. "You said take nap. And, I didn't want to, but I did. She waked me and I feel very yuck!"

Dennis gave another watery sob, laying his head on MacGyver's shoulder and whining softly.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry you feel yuck," MacGyver assured Dennis, running a hand in gentle circles over the boy's back and kissing his temple. "Try to calm down, buddy."

"I don't get it," Murdoc said, flatly. "You knew who I am, but..."

"You were hiding in a cabin in the mountains with Cassian. A meteorite struck and you got hit with fragments. You ended up in a cocoon and when you emerged..." MacGyver trailed off, motioning to the tiny child in his arms.

"Where's Cassian?" Murdoc snarled.

"LEAVE MY CASSIAN ALONE!" Dennis screamed, turning around slightly.

"Hey, hey, talk nice," MacGyver instructed, calmly, cuddling him closer. "He's just concerned. It's okay. Cassian's at school."

"Do you think I would adopt you and not take care of Cassian?" MacGyver 1.0 asked, reproachfully, in a low voice. "You adopted...Dennis, right?"

"Yeah. He was about one and a half, then."

"I'm three," Dennis murmured, his voice slow and sleepy.

"You are now, yes," MacGyver agreed, chuckling.

"Well, I'll leave you gentlemen alone to compare notes. You'll be recorded, of course," Zarla announced, then punched some buttons on her pedestal, making furniture appear in the room. "Make yourselves comfy!"

With that, orange light surrounded her, taking her away. With a huff of anger, MacGyver 2.0 went and sat down on the long sofa that was now in the center of the room. He maneuvered Dennis onto one of the pillows and covered him with Bark. Murdoc and MacGyver 1.0 joined him, sitting in the armchairs across from the couch. MacGyver 2.0 couldn't help staring at Murdoc, then looking away.

"Something?" Murdoc pressed.

"No," MacGyver 2.0 assured him, then laughed ruefully. "It's odd seeing you again. I almost wish Cassian was here. He still misses you, sometimes. He loves Dennis, but it isn't the same."

"At least they're together," Murdoc said, shrugging, taking the practical point of view.

"Yeah. You two are still enemies?"

"Nah. More like frenemies," Murdoc assured him. "I even saved his life once!"

"By shooting me in the shoulder," MacGyver 1.0 said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, that was not fun," MacGyver 2.0 agreed, smiling ruefully.

"So picky," Murdoc complained.

"Y'know, we really need to see, if we can escape," MacGyver 1.0 suggested, standing.

They examined the room and its equipment, but the technology was too alien. Giving up, they sat back down and talked, comparing universes, until Dennis woke up. The boy sat up, stretching, then opened his eyes. He looked at MacGyver 1.0, then turned to his daddy and froze. He turned back to MacGyver 1.0 and blinked up at him.

"Dad-dy. You doubled. Double is two. One. Two," Dennis said, counting on his fingers. He then pointed at each of the MacGyvers, repeating, "One. Two."

Dennis finished with a decisive little nod, staring between them. MacGyver laughed, ruffling his son's hair.

"Yeah, there's two of me, here. Remember Spiderverse? This is an alternate universe version of me and that's his friend, Murdoc."

"Spiderverse? Ohhh," Dennis crooned, then his eyes went wide. "Daddy?!"

"Yeah?"

Dennis pressed up against MacGyver, staring in his eyes excitedly, asking, "Are you Spiderman?!"

"No, I'm not Spiderman," MacGyver denied, laughing.

"Oh. Is Uncle Jack Spiderman?"

"No," MacGyver assured him, rolling his eyes. "He probably wishes he was."

"Ohh," Dennis said, disappointed, before cheering up again. "Can I be Spiderman?"

The others laughed.

"Wow. You are in trouble," Murdoc told MacGyver happily.

"Ye-ahh. I'll tell you what, Dennis. When you're at least eighteen years old, about twice as old as Cassian, if a radioactive spider chooses to bite you, and you develop superpowers, then, yes. You can be Spiderman."

"Yay!" Dennis exclaimed, clapping his hands.

"I think he only heard that last sentence," MacGyver 1.0 said, earning a weary nod of agreement from Dennis' dad.

"I heard! I gotta be really old, get bit by special spider, and get powers. Then, I can be Spiderman," Dennis protested, earning more laughter.

"A spider has to choose to bite you. You can't make them bite you," MacGyver 2.0 clarified, making Dennis huff in annoyance.

"Of all the superheroes, why would you want to be Spiderman?" Murdoc scoffed.

"Why not?" his MacGyver asked, surprised.

"I hate spiders."

"Who would you be?" Dennis demanded.

"Tony Stark," Murdoc said promptly. "If we were superheroes, the boyscout would be Captain America and they have that wonderful antagonism."

"I would not be Captain America," MacGyver denied, firmly.

"Of course, you would!" Murdoc argued. "All gold hair and righteousness."

"Please," MacGyver scoffed. "If I was a superhero, I would be...like, one of the X-men or something."

"Ooo, so you would be Professor X to my Magneto!"

"Okay, you know a lot more about comic books than I thought you would," MacGyver 2.0 told him.

"I have a ten-year-old son and Marvel movies are the rulers of cinema, right now," Murdoc pointed out, shrugging.

"You have a son? Who is he?" Dennis asked.

"His name is Cassian," Murdoc answered, earning twin glares from the MacGyvers.

"Like my Cassian?"

"Very similar, yes."

"Murdoc," MacGyver 1.0 sighed.

"What? More than one person can have the same name."

"I wanna go home," Dennis mourned, tugging at his dad's sleeve.

"Me, too, buddy, but we have to wait for Zarla to come back."

"She's bad."

"I know, but we don't know how to use her equipment."

"I see buttons."

"We don't know which ones to push."

"All of them!" Dennis insisted, jumping up, then screaming, "I want to go HOME!"

"Dennis, don't..." MacGyver 2.0 began, jumping up, but his tiny son moved amazingly fast.

Dennis reached Zarla's platform, pushing a series of buttons, before MacGyver caught up to him and snatched him away. Alarms squealed and the lights dimmed, then grew uncomfortably bright. The furniture disappeared and a slow trickle of water began running down one wall.

"Dennis," MacGyver scolded, his eyes narrowed to slits against the light.

Dennis covered his own eyes with his hands, sobbing, "I want to go home, Daddy. I want Mommy and Cassian and Uncle Jack..."

"I know, sweetheart, but we won't get home, if you destroy the place!"

"Why make bad buttons?"

"They're not bad. You just have to know what they do and when to press them."

"No. They're bad. My eyes hurt."

"Well, if you weren't a naughty boy, they wouldn't," Zarla snapped, appearing at her console.

"You need to shut up," Murdoc warned her, smiling slightly.

"I'm not naughty. I'm very little and I. Want. My. MOMMY!" Dennis yelled at her.

"I thought you wanted your daddy," Zarla sneered.

"Yeah. Daddy wants Mommy, too," Dennis said reasonably.

"Fine. I'm done with all of you. One and a half psychos and two saccharine golden boys," Zarla ranted, working to get her controls to reset. "This could have been fun! You could have cooperated, been intrigued by the science, asked questions about the other Murdocs and MacGyvers I observed, but nooo. You just whine and whine about being kidnapped and me waking up your brat!"

"That's enough, Zarla," MacGyver 1.0 warned her. "Don't push. You might remember Murdoc is an assassin."

"Oh, I'm pushing you. Right out the door!" Zarla huffed angrily, pushing a final few buttons.

The orange light surrounded Murdoc and MacGyver 1.0 , sending them home. Dennis clung to the remaining MacGyver's neck, whimpering.

"Oh, quit. I'm not a psycho. They're fine," Zarla reluctantly assured them.

A viewscreen appeared, showing Murdoc and MacGyver standing in a kitchen, looking relieved.

"I should have killed her," Murdoc said regretfully.

"No, you shouldn't have," MacGyver corrected, drily. "Our counterparts need her to get home."

"Well, that's an over-reaction," Zarla sulked, shutting down the screen.

"He's a sociopath and an assassin. You expected him to be reasonable?" MacGyver asked, almost amused.

"Your turn," Zarla said, ignoring him.

The orange light came and went and MacGyver and Dennis found themselves in their living room.

"Angus? Dennis? What's going on? I thought you were asleep," Nasha told Dennis, as MacGyver brought Dennis to her.

"There was a bad lady, Mommy!" Dennis cried, throwing himself into her arms and clinging.

"What?!"

"It's okay. I'll explain later," MacGyver promised her, leaning in and giving Nasha a kiss.

"Everything's okay?" Nasha asked, doubtfully, rubbing circles over Dennis' back.

"Yeah. Everything's fine," MacGyver promised. "We're home."

Or something like this could happen

MacGyver and Jack sneaked through the house. It was very similar to Mac's own house. The polar bear and horse ride were near the door. Shelves of interesting knick-knacks and weirdly useful things were everywhere. But, there were unmistakable signs of children living there. Well, that was alternate universes for you.

"Mac. Are you sure that thingy is gonna work?" Jack whispered, waving at the tablet-like device in MacGyver's hands.

"Yes, I'm sure. This thing can detect Murdoc's unique biochemical signature. It's the one thing that's the same, between different realities," MacGyver repeated.

"You got all that from studying a wormhole?!" Jack protested.

"No, I got that from a brilliant team of scientists that have spent decades studying wormholes."

"Yeah, okay, fine," Jack conceded. "But, what makes you think Murdoc is going to be here?"

"Two reasons," MacGyver said, annoyed, stopping on the staircase. "One, Murdoc definitely fell through the wormhole into this reality. It hadn't shifted, by the time we went through. Two, this thing is beeping steadily, which means he's definitely in this house. Somewhere."

"You don't gotta be snippety about it," Jack said, shrugging.

"Come on."

They went upstairs and heard the water running in the bathroom. Children's music could be heard, playing loudly inside.

"Okay, do we really want to know what that creepy bastard is doing?" Jack asked.

"Probably not," MacGyver admitted, walking over, then slowly and silently opening the door.

Inside, they found the shower curtain closed and steam rising from the top. MacGyver showed Jack the reading on his instrument, confirming it was Murdoc inside. While Jack got himself into a center position in front of the bathtub, MacGyver turned down the music and grabbed the shower curtain. The lower volume let MacGyver here a piping voice singing loudly behind the curtain. On a three count, MacGyver threw the shower curtain open.

A small child of no more than three gave a startled screech. The boy had black hair, brown eyes, and was completely covered in bubbles, from head to toe. Seeing MacGyver, the boy smiled, taking hold of the shower curtain himself.

"Excuse me, please," he said mildly, drawing the curtain back closed and singing again.

"What the..." Jack drawled.

The boy poked his head out the side of the curtain, along with a hand.

"Um. I woke up early from nap and decided to take shower. So, so, Mommy and Daddy don't have to give me bath later," he explained, waving his small hand in emphasis.

"Oh. Okay," MacGyver said, trying to sound unconcerned. "We'll, uh, leave you to that, then."

"Thank you."

MacGyver opened the bathroom door.

"Daddy? My music, please."

MacGyver didn't let himself react to being called daddy, but rolled his eyes and turned the music up a bit more. He walked out, shaking his head.

"Um, I got water in my ears? More, please!"

Jack gave a disbelieving chuckle, but turned the volume back up to almost it's original level.

"Thank you, Uncle Jack!"

Jack started, then quickly left the bathroom.

"What was that? The hell do we do now??"

"Someone has to be looking after him," MacGyver reasoned. "We find and talk to them."

"Yeah, okay, after you."

MacGyver led them back to the stairway.

Only to find a shorter-haired copy of himself coming up them.

The two MacGyver's stared at each other in shock.

"Um. Hey, Mac!" Jack greeted with false, uneasy cheer.

"Jack?"

"Yeah, um. Look. We came through a wormhole, chasing Murdoc..."

"He's an assassin in our universe," Jack chimed in helpfully.

"Yyeeeah, I know who Murdoc is," the resident MacGyver agreed.

"This thing was supposed to lead us to him," MacGyver explained, "but all we found was a small boy in your bathtub. Taking a shower."

"That would be Dennis. I was just coming up to check on him."

"Why did that thing think he was Murdoc, though?" Jack complained.

"Because, he is Murdoc," the resident MacGyver said, flatly, then shrugged. "Or, he used to be."

"Used to be," MacGyver repeated.

"Come downstairs and I'll explain."

The resident MacGyver led them into the living room. His Jack was there and gaped at the two visitors.

"Jack, meet yourself and another version of me. They took a trip through a wormhole and ended up here."

"Good to meet you," Jack said from his armchair, as they settled onto the couch.

"Okay, long story short: Murdoc got hit by meteorite fragments and ended up in a cocoon. He emerged a toddler, so I adopted him and Cassian. That was a year and a half ago."

"Wow. Okay," MacGyver agreed, letting that sink in a bit. "Thing is our reality's Murdoc is here somewhere and we need to find him and drag him home."

"No need," Murdoc assured them, coming to the living room from the direction of the front door. "I'm already here and can't think of any good reason to stay. Though, the idea of you raising a mini-me is absolutely hilarious."

"I'm glad that amuses you," the resident MacGyver told him, dryly, but with an odd amount of sincerity.

"We have another problem," MacGyver said, wearily. "We're stuck here for the next two hours. The wormhole has shut down. It closes randomly, but always stays closed for two hours and is always open for at least an hour afterwards."

"So now what?" Murdoc asked, annoyed.

"You all wait here. Everyone from the team is here, including Dad. We're having a barbecue later."

"Good. That means plenty of us to keep eyes on Doc."

"Ooo!" Murdoc gasped mockingly.

"Murdoc, practice being polite and charming. I'm sure you need to fool people, every once in a while," the resident MacGyver advised, smirking at him.

As they talked, Dennis came down the stairs, fully dressed, with Bark in his arms. He came into the living room and started, staring at the group of men.

"TWO daddies? Two Uncle Jacks and a stranger!" he told Bark, giving a grave nod.

"Yeah, this Uncle Jack and Mac are visiting from another reality. Um, that means..."

"Oh, I know that, Daddy!" Dennis assured him. "Like, when Spock had beard, but that Daddy and Uncle Jack don't have beards."

"Well, that's because we're not bad guys and you can tell us apart, because my hair is longer."

"Yeah, I can do that," Dennis agreed, nodding.

"Dennis," his dad said, sighing. "Buddy, you didn't get the soap out of your hair."

"Yes, I did," Dennis said hastily, backing up a couple of steps.

"I can see the soap."

"Th-that's not soap, Daddy!" Dennis argued, holding up his hand. "That's just a few, little bubbles!"

"The bubbles are made of soap," MacGyver explained, laughing a bit. "It's not good for your hair, buddy."

"No, they aren't!" Dennis protested. "Bubbles are good!"

"Jack," MacGyver prompted.

Smiling apologetically, Jack stood and scooped Dennis into his arms, ignoring his whine of protest.

"Excuse us a moment," the resident MacGyver said, heading for the kitchen.

"Nooo, this is not nec'ssary!" Dennis pleaded. "It's just bubbles."

"Sorry, Baby Doc," Jack soothed. "It's gotta be done."

"Hold him, face up, over the sink," MacGyver instructed.

Jack obeyed, grinning, when Dennis took and held a deep breath.

"You can breathe," MacGyver told him, chuckling. "I'm using the sprayer, so it shouldn't get in your face."

True to his word, MacGyver quickly took the remaining soap out of Dennis' hair, leaving his face dry. Grabbing a kitchen towel, he quickly dried Dennis, then nodded for Jack to lift him.

"There you go. You have soap-free hair."

"And, a wet shirt," Dennis sassed, indignant.

Chuckling, MacGyver went and grabbed a clean shirt from the dryer. He plucked Dennis' wet shirt off of him and replaced it with the dry one.

"There. No wet shirt, either."

"Hmmph," Dennis grunted, annoyed. "You took my bubbles, Daddy. I looked like mermaid!"

"Well, I'm sure your mommy can get some beads and stuff and make you something to help you with that."

"Yeah. Mommy is very good," Dennis agreed.

They went back and found their visitors had made their way out to the patio. MacGyver and Jack were chatting amiably with everyone, while Murdoc lurked on the edges, occasionally offering snarky commentary. He was disappointed that Cassian was spending time with a friend and wouldn't be home, until shortly before supper. Dennis ran around, playing and hanging on his family. After a while, James went inside to start his share of cooking dinner.

"Is he supposed to be doing that?" Murdoc asked suddenly.

MacGyver followed Murdoc's line of sight and found Dennis at the top of the wooden trellis, amongst all the lights. He sighed.

"Dennis. I don't mind you climbing up there, but you have to climb down, too."

"Aw, Daddy..."

"You can climb down or get an adult to help you."

"But..."

"Nope, those are your choices. I don't want you jumping."

"You hate heights!" Dennis accused, pointing his finger at his dad. "You do, Daddy."

"Why shouldn't I?" MacGyver asked, annoyed. "They keep trying to kill my youngest son."

Dennis gasped in sheer outrage.

"That is a NOT TRUTH!" he cried.

He started to say more, but then gave an angry huff and rapidly climbed down from the trellis.

"Heights are my FRIEND, Daddy. I'm gonna go tell Pah-pop you told me a NOT TRUTH!"

"Not truths are usually called lies," Murdoc offered, laughing, but that only seemed to make the small child even more furious.

"I know lies!" he shouted. "My daddy does not lie! He's just a silly what hates heights. So, I'm gonna tell my Pah-pop and he will 'splain to daddy that is a not truth!"

"Go ahead," MacGyver agreed, smiling. "He's in the kitchen, right now."

"Fine!" Dennis huffed, marching into the house.

"Well. You made him mad," Murdoc said, chuckling.

"Tell me something, Murdoc," MacGyver told him, annoyed. "How did you get to be an international assassin, when you have NO sense of self-preservation?"

"I developed one, as I grew up," Murdoc answered, with slow sarcasm.

"If I can't have honesty from you, can I at least have verisimilitude?" MacGyver countered, dryly. "That's the least believable lie you've ever told me."

"Oh? Well. I'll work on that for you, Boyscout."

"Thank you," MacGyver said, dryly.

James came back out onto the patio, gently holding Dennis' hand. Dennis looked down, sadly, his lips trembling. They stopped in front of MacGyver and James ran a gentle hand down the back of Dennis' head.

"Go on. Tell him," James encouraged.

Dennis sniffled, but obediently looked up.

"I'm sorry I said silly," he said, his voice breaking a bit. "You gotta be good daddy and keep me safe. And, um, I'm glad you're good daddy. I love you."

"Come here, buddy," MacGyver said, holding out his arms.

Dennis ran to him, letting himself be lifted, then burying his face in MacGyver's shoulder.

"Now it's my turn," James said, wryly. "Really? You told him that heights are trying to kill him? Son, what were you thinking?"

"Heights are my friend," Dennis protested weakly.

"Yeah, I know you love heights," MacGyver agreed, sighing. He kissed Dennis' cheek and smiled. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have said that. I just don't want you getting hurt."

"Yeah," Dennis said sadly.

"Maybe this weekend we can go to the public swimming pool and we can teach you how to go off the high dive," James suggested. "There are ways to enjoy heights that don't risk you getting a broken leg."

The visiting MacGyver was glad that Murdoc kept silent, not ruining the moment. Then, he remembered that Dennis was Murdoc. Was that little boy still buried somewhere in the assassin's heart?

"Yeah, I can swim!" Dennis told the visiting MacGyver.

"That's awesome," Jack answered. You're a clever little guy, aren'tcha?"

"I'm smart and strong!" Dennis agreed.

"Well, I'm glad we got to meet you," the visiting MacGyver said kindly. "But, the wormhole is open and it's time for us to go home."

"Oooh," Dennis sighed mournfully. "Okay."

"Bye, Baby Doc," Jack said, grinning.

They quickly said their good-byes and made their way home. Jack shook his head.

"What the hell, Murdoc? You were a cute little kid! What happened?"

"I grew up and learned about the world," Murdoc said, feigning indifference.

"Well, I'm glad one version of you got a second chance," MacGyver said, putting an end to the bickering.

"Of course you are, Boyscout," Murdoc responded, but it lacked the bite MacGyver had expected.

"Mac, you think you can find a way to aim a meteor at him?"

"No, Jack," MacGyver said, walking away.

"Please?"

"I literally can not."

"Well, then what are we gonna do about the Doc?"

"Try not to let him escape."

Jack turned to face Murdoc, but the small distraction had been enough and their nemesis was again on the loose.

Dennis is about two? It's not long after the adoption.

MacGyver came into the kitchen, his newspaper under his arm. The kitchen was empty and MacGyver sighed. He'd left Dennis at the table and his own morning cup of coffee on the table, just long enough to get the newspaper. Now, the child and cup were both gone. With a wry chuckle, telling himself he should have known better, MacGyver went searching for them.

Fortunately, it didn't take long to find Dennis and the drink. The patio door was shut, though MacGyver had opened it to catch the morning breeze. Opening it, MacGyver found Dennis sitting by the firepit, the cup clutched in his hands. Dennis sat, kicking his little feet in contentment, singing.

"Winnie a Pooh, Winnie a Pooh, snuggy, cuddly, huggy all stuffed with fluff,
I'm Winnie a Pooh, Winnie a Pooh, snuggly, huggly, cuddy ole bear!"

Grinning, MacGyver took out his cell phone and began recording, as Dennis paused in his singing to take a small sip of the hot coffee. The boy gave a dramatic shiver and blew forcefully on the liquid.

"Rabbit's busy pulling weeds, carrots so tall and sweet,
Kanga makes yummy cakes, Little Roo wants to eat!"

Chuckling, MacGyver recorded a few more seconds, then went back into the house. He fetched another cup of coffee from the kitchen, then hurried back to the patio. He sat down next to Dennis, who was blowing once more on his coffee.

"Can I join you?" MacGyver said teasingly.

"Yah. You sit me," Dennis agreed, snuggling into MacGyver's side and taking another careful drink.

MacGyver put an arm around Dennis, taking a healthy sip of his own drink. They sat quietly together, drinking and enjoying the peaceful quiet. A slight breeze brought the scent of flowers from their neighbor's garden. Dennis hummed softly, making small, endearing noises. Too soon, the cups were empty and Dennis handed his to MacGyver.

"Done, Daddy."

"Me, too," MacGyver agreed, cheerfully. "You ready for breakfast?"

"Eat? Yah. I eat!"

"Okay, c'mon," MacGyver picking his small son up.

Sure, the kid could walk, but why not get a little extra bonding in? Dennis seemed to agree, resting his head against MacGyver's cheek and humming happily. It was the best start to a day that MacGyver could imagine.

October 17th, 2019. 9 P.M.

Jack leaned back into the couch, next to Mac. He loved his best friend, but he wondered how Mac had convinced him to watch a marathon of the old Universal monster movies. Sure, they were classics, but Freddy and Jason were so much cooler. Shouldn't a horror flick show some blood. He envied Nasha, Riley, and Matty, who had gone to see some modern movie together, having a girls' night out. Though, he didn't remember them saying what they were planning to see.

Jack's musings were interrupted by Dennis stumbling down the stairs and into the living room. Standing in the middle of the room, the boy stopped and gave an annoyed huff.

"I'm not afraid of ghosties!" he announced, waving his hands. "I just gotta go potty."

Mac and Jack exchanged wry grins, Mac giving a small shrug.

"It's okay, Baby 'doc," Jack assured him. "You go potty."

"Yah. You listen to Uncle Jack and I go potty," Dennis agreed, resuming his trek to the bathroom.

"Well, okay then," Mac observed, chuckling.

"I'll tell you what, no ghosts better try and have a chat with me. They won't like what they hear."

They heard water run for a short time, then Dennis came back into the living room, yawning widely. With a weary whine, Dennis walked over to Mac, crawling into his lap, then resting against his chest. Mac reached down and kissed the boy's head. Dennis sat back up and gazed solemnly at his daddy.

"It's okay, Daddy," Dennis promised. "I never let ghosties get you. I love you."

"I love you, too, buddy. Don't worry about ghosts. C'mon, let's get you back to bed."

October 17th. 4:12 P.M.

Cassian sat at the kitchen table, drawing a ghost. The ghost hovered outside a house, in front of its door. Cassian tried to make the ghost seem translucent, with a carved pumpkin visible behind it. Dennis climbed into the chair next to him and looked at the picture, frowning. He held Bark over the paper, then gave him a knowing nod. Cassian gasped, when Dennis snatched his pencil away, throwing it to the ground.

"NO!" Dennis shouted, sternly. "My Cassian's not drawing you any doors! We got doors. You don't need any."

"Who are you talking to?" Cassian asked, laughing in disbelief.

"Ghosties," Dennis answered reasonably, then shook his finger at Cassian. "Don't draw no doors, Cassian. Not on walls, because Mommy and Daddy'll be mad!"

"I'm not going to draw on the walls and I won't make doors for ghosts to use," Cassian promised, indulgently. "Now, give me my pencil back."

"You promise?" Dennis challenged.

"Yes, I promise! Give me my pencil!"

Dennis hopped down, fetching the pencil and handing it back.

"Okay! See? My Cassian is good boy!" Dennis declared, proudly. "No more doors!"

Rolling his eyes, Cassian watched Dennis scurry off with Bark towards the living room. Silly kid.

5:30 P.M.

"Your youngest is being weird again," Cassian told MacGyver, as soon as he was comfortable, after getting home.

"Oh? What did he do now?"

"He keeps going on about ghosts and them not needing doors. He's talking to them too."

"Okay, the door thing is new. Did he catch you or Jack watching a horror movie?" MacGyver asked.

"I don't think so. I haven't watched any ghost movies lately."

"Well, it's probably just because Halloween is coming."

"I hope so. I wouldn't want to live in a haunted house," Cassian teased.

"Our house isn't haunted," Dennis told him, coming into the living room.

"Oh? I thought you had been talking to ghosts," MacGyver said, mildly.

"Yeah, I talk to ghosties. They're neighbors."

"Uh huh. Where do the ghosties live?" Cassian demanded.

"Cassian. Ghosties're dead."

"Where are they haunting, then," Cassian repeated, rolling his eyes.

"Down the street. In the spooky house with rose bushes."

"I don't think that house is spooky," MacGyver protested. "It's a pretty, little place."

"Yeah, it's pretty, but it's spooky. It has ghosties."

"Um, okay. Did you go over there?" MacGyver asked, concerned.

"No. Annie asked, but no. Some older ghosties don't like me."

"Why don't they like you?" Cassian asked, a bit indignant.

"I'm alive. They just want to haunt. They don't want living peoples."

"Oh," Cassian said, not sure what to say.

"Yeah. They don't like me? Then, I don't like them," Dennis asserted, stubbornly.

"Fair enough," MacGyver agreed. "I think we should just leave them to haunt in peace."

"Yeah, Annie can play here. She is friend."

"Is Annie a child?" Cassian asked, feeling a bit sad for her.

"Yeah, but she's super smart. Like me!"

"Right," MacGyver laughed. "That's pretty smart."

"Yeah."

October 21st. 1 P.M.

Dennis sat in the Phoenix conference room, coloring at the table. Matty was watching over him for a few hours, while Mac was away on a mission and Nasha was away at a teachers' meeting. Matty was in her office, doing paperwork and occasionally coming out to check on him. Dennis got up and poked his head into her office.

"Aunt Matty, I gotta go potty."

"All right, go on. Tell me, when you get back."

"Okay. I'm leaving Bark on the table."

"Mmhmm. Okay, sweetheart."

Dennis went to the bathroom, coming back shortly. He went back to the table and frowned.

Bark was gone.

Dennis looked under the table and in the seats of all the chairs, beginning to panic. He'd left Bark at the table! He'd even told Aunt Matty! Going back to the table, Dennis noticed a drawing...one he hadn't done. It was a picture of Bark, floating over the house with the rosebushes. A stick figure girl was in one window of the house, her hand raised in greeting.

Annie! Annie had Bark!

Furious, Dennis grabbed a black crayon and dragged a chair over to the wall. Standing on the back, he began drawing a door.

"Annie! You give me my Bark! You're not being good friend!" Dennis shouted, hopping down to draw the edges of the door all the way to the carpet.

He knocked three times on the door and it opened. Dennis ran through.

"ANNIE! I want my BARK!"

"Dennis? Who are you screaming at, young man?" Matty asked, coming into the conference room.

Seeing the new door, she froze, for a brief moment. Grabbing her phone, Matty sent a quick text to Riley and Bozer, ordering them to the conference room. A cool breeze blew from the other side of the door to where Matty was standing. Walking forward, she peered cautiously through the door. She could see dusty furniture and a cold fireplace. Above the fireplace was a dirty mirror that seemed to shimmer unnaturally.

"Matty?"

Matty jumped at Riley's voice, making her and Bozer both pull back in fear.

"Whoa!" Bozer exclaimed, eyes wide, as he spotted the door. "Matty? Where did that come from?"

"I don't know, Bozer, but I'm certain that Dennis went into that room, but I can't see him now."

"He's been talking about ghosts all month," Riley pointed out, horrified.

"I know. Have either of you two heard him mention someone named Annie? I heard him yelling, about her taking Bark."

"Yeah, that would definitely get him moving."

"Annie might have bitten off more than she can chew," Bozer said, dryly.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Bozer, I want you to stay here. If Mac or Jack calls, try and find out, if they have any information..."

"Matty, why don't Bozer and I just go look?" Riley said, kindly. "We got this."

"No. This happened on my watch. I'm going, too. Bozer can manage things, while we're gone, which will hopefully only be a few minutes."

"No problem, Matty. Everything'll be fine. If anything goes too wrong, I'll get hold of Oversight."

"I really don't want to tell my boss that I lost his grandson, but...yeah. Do what's necessary, Bozer. Riley, let's go."

Riley and Matty stepped warily through the door, shivering at the sudden temperature drop. Dennis was nowhere in sight, but Riley saw his footprints in the thick layer of dust that covered the carpet. The room was some sort of sitting room, filled with comfortable chairs.

"Where do you think we are?"

"I don't know," Matty said, shrugging, "but Dennis isn't in this room."

"I really, really hate to say this, but..."

"We split up, I know," Matty agreed, sighing. "I hate it, too, but we need to find Dennis as soon as possible. You go left, I go right."

"Right."

Grimacing, Riley marched out the room's natural door, heading left and deeper into the house. She shivered. The place definitely had a haunted vibe. Weird shadows clung to the walls, where there shouldn't have been any. The house's furnishings were antique, tasteful, and terribly decayed. Mirrors hung crookedly on the walls, in heavy, ornate frames. Riley ignored the mirrors and the other things she saw moving out the corners of her eyes. She didn't care about the ghosts. Her mission was to find Dennis and get back to the Phoenix. Her resolved lasted, until she found the kitchen, where blood leaked out of the refrigerator door.

Fresh blood.

Shivering and swallowing hard, Riley approached the refrigerator, dread and anger building in her. Reaching out a shaking hand, she yanked the door open. Bowls, jars, and cups filled the refrigerator, all of them spilling over with blood. Flies and cockroaches feasted on the gore. Riley forced herself to swallow past her gag reflex, carefully shutting the door again. Taking a deep breath, she forced aside her instinct to stay quiet.

"Dennis!!" she shouted, as loud as she could manage.

The sound was weirdly muffled, not seeming to travel past the kitchen, but she still heard a response.

"Aunt Riley?"

The words came from a second door across from the one she had entered. Riley went through the door and found herself at the bottom of a staircase. Running up the stairs, Riley discovered a hallway filled with open doors. Dennis appeared in the closest one on her left.

"What are you doing here?" Dennis asked, puzzled.

"What am I doing here??" Riley squawked. "Dennis, what are you doing here? Where are we?"

"This is a haunted house. I'm looking for Bark."

"Yeah, Matty said she heard you yelling at someone."

"Annie. She took Bark, so I would come," Dennis complained.

"Rude, but we can't stay here, kiddo. We need to go back."

"NO!" Dennis insisted, angrily. "Not without my Bark!"

"If we go back, Matty and I can get Bark for you."

"Aunt Riley, I can't. Bark is family."

"Okay, fine. Ten minutes, Dennis. If we don't find him by then, we go looking for Matty."

"Okay," Dennis said, mournfully. "He's not in there, though."

"Right. So, let's check the next room."

"ANNIE! I got ten minutes! You are not being good friend!" Dennis shouted, as he came out into the hallway.

A small girl, looking about nine years old, appeared in a doorway at the other end of the hall. She held Bark in her hands, looking sad.

"I wasn't being mean. I just wanted you to come play," she said, sulking.

"Yeah, well, if you wanna play, arrange a play date," Riley snapped.

"We can't play here," Dennis said, taking Bark back. "Other ghosties don't let me."

"They won't do anything, if we're quiet."

"Hey. Don't be teaching him to sneak around," Riley scolded.

Annie glared at Riley, her mouth tightening.

"Not everyone can see me, you know. Not even most children."

"I'm sorry, but we can't help that, especially if your family objects."

"You can still come over," Dennis offered.

"Okay," Annie agreed, deflating. "I'm sorry I took Bark."

"Good. Now, we gotta get out of here."

"Bye, Annie."

"Bye."

Annie faded away and Riley steered Dennis back down the hallway. They were halfway down, when a tall, skeletal man appeared in front of them. Snow-white hair fell just past his shoulders and his gray eyes gleamed from deep in their sockets. His gray lips were pulled back from his decaying teeth in a rigid grin.

"Well, well. Uninvited guests," he hissed.

"Yeah, sorry for the intrusion. We're leaving," Riley asserted, frowning.

"Ohhhh. Noooooo. It's far too late for that," the ghost crooned.

"Annie took my Bark!" Dennis scolded. "I hadta come get him."

"And, now, you will stay."

"Nuh uh. You can't make me."

"Can't I?

"No. If you do, my Uncle Jack will get you."

"Will he?"

"Yeah, he is fierce," Dennis boasted, holding up his hands and curling them into claws.

The ghost cackled, growing in size, until his white hair, long now and floating away from him, touched the ceiling. His mouth extended, revealing sharp rows of fangs. Instead of legs, his bottom half ended in gory rags, dripping blood onto the floor. Dennis blinked, making a yuck face.

"Um. I'm not afraid of ghosties," Dennis said, shrugging. "And, you are making mess."

"Dennis, I don't think you should sass him," Riley whispered, freaking out, as the ghost floated closer, a chill, dank wind coming from him.

"But, Aunt Riley, he is making a slippy mess!" Dennis insisted. "Watch!"

Dennis ran forward, heading towards the largest pool of blood. Riley gave a small screech, darting forward and grabbing him back.

"Dennis! Kid. Let's stay out of the blood, okay? He's not a slip and slide. Think of what that would do to your shoes."

"Okay, but he's being a silly."

"I could consume you in one gulp."

"That's yucky."

"Look, we're going, right now. Take it up with Annie," Riley advised.

"Are you? Without the young one?"

"What?? Hell, no..." Riley began, angrily, but the hallway began spinning crazily.

When it stopped, Riley and the ghost were both gone.

"HEY! You gimme back MY AUNT RILEY!" Dennis screamed, furious.

No one answered and he stormed off, heading down the staircase. When he reached the bottom, the wall across from him disappeared and a long, dark tunnel appeared. Dennis watched, wide-eyes and intrigued. To his delight, a long black train appeared at the end of the tunnel, hurtling towards him. The train was coal black, with a long chimney stack, spewing flames. Dennis took another step forward, awed at the beautiful sight. The train's windows glinted, the glass appearing black, but translucent. Dennis could just make out figures, weird and wonderful, dancing around inside.

The train rushed right for him, putting Dennis in danger of being crushed beneath its wheels. Excited, Dennis ran a short way back up the stairs, then turned, jumping onto the back of one of the train's carriages, as it passed. He landed on the platform...only to find himself back on the stairs, the train and the tunnel both gone, replaced by an ordinary wall.

Dennis' face crumpled and he sat down, crying heavily, his face wet and red.

"Dennis?"

Dennis looked up, still sobbing, to see his Aunt Matty hurrying towards him.

"Aunt Matty!"

"Dennis, are you all right?" Matty asked, sitting next to him on the stairs.

"No. Ghosties are very mean!" he sobbed.

"What did they do to you?" Matty asked, anger entering her voice.

"They had a train. It was beautiful, Aunt Matty!" Dennis stressed, shaking his head. "It came to me, right where I was! I jumped on. Then, it was gone! I didn't get even tiny train ride!"

Dennis broke off, sobbing.

"Oh, sweetheart," Matty sighed, rubbing his back.

"They made me very sad in my heart!" Dennis complained, resting against her.

"I'm sure they did and I'm sorry," Matty agreed, a touch of sternness coming into her voice. "But, let me ask you something. Where was that train going?"

"It didn't go. It went away."

"Where did you think it was going, though?"

"Um. I don't know," Dennis admitted. "I thought ghosties were just giving ride."

"You tried to take a ride on a ghost train?" MacGyver asked, coming from the sitting room, with Jack in tow.

"Yeah, but they took the train away!"

"Baby 'doc, what were you thinking?" Jack asked, appalled. "Look, you know how you say, 'you never know with a stranger'? Well, that goes double for ghosts!"

"Two times for ghosties?" Dennis asked, amazed.

"Definitely," MacGyver agreed, picking Dennis up and cuddling him a bit, but keeping his tone firm. "You never go in any vehicle, train, truck, or anything else, unless we know and know where it is going."

"Yes, Daddy," Dennis agreed, sadly. "But, it was beautiful train."

"I know. And, maybe we can arrange a train trip. But, right now, we need to get back to the Phoenix. Bozer told us what happened and we came to get you."

"They took Aunt Riley, too," Dennis sulked. "They took Bark, then my Aunt Riley, then the train. They're mean ghosties."

"For mercy's sake, this has gone on enough."

Dennis and his family looked towards the sitting room, finding a middle-aged woman, dressed in the matronly garb of a woman from the nineteenth century. She looked almost normal, except she was utterly colorless. She smiled sadly at Dennis.

"I'm sorry. The train was meant to frighten you, not make think you were getting a ride."

"I'm not scared," Dennis told her, shaking his head.

"Yes, we noticed," she agreed, laughing. "Here comes Miss Riley."

Riley appeared at the top of the stairs, glaring around her.

"Hey, girl. Get down here!" Jack ordered.

"Now, please, leave. I don't mean to be inhospitable, but there are rules. Annie knows better than to introduce herself, like that. There are plenty of ghost children for her to play with."

"We're sorry for the intrusion," MacGyver told her, cooly. "We'll be leaving."

"It's all right. I apologize for my grandfather. He always goes too far."

"Why can't Annie and me be friends?" Dennis demanded.

"Because, dear, we ghosts are far too old and see far too much to intermix with the living. Our time is done and you must not cling to the past, by clinging to us. You must cling to each other and hope for the best."

Dennis blinked at her, then shrugged.

"I don't know that."

"There are living children who need you to be their friend."

"Oh."

"How do we close that very unwelcome door in my conference room?" Matty demanded.

"Simply erase it. Dennis can probably do that best, since he drew the door."

MacGyver chuckled.

"Good-bye, ma'am."

"Good-bye."

Matty marched them back into the conference room, then found and handed Dennis an eraser.

"All right, young man. From now on, you only draw on paper and you leave it to me and my team to do rescue missions. Yes?"

"Yes, Aunt Matty," Dennis agreed, taking the eraser, then scrubbing at the wall. "I still want that train."

"I wouldn't worry about it. The way your Pah-pop spoils you, I imagine you'll get a train trip sooner, rather than later," MacGyver assured him, tousling his hair.

"Yeah! My pah-pop will help me! And, no ghosties!"

7 A.M New Year's Day

MacGyver lounged in bed, leaning up against the headboard, with Nasha nestled beside him. They were sharing the morning's newspaper, trading sections back and forth. Savoring the rare morning of leisure, Nasha had turned on their alarm clock's radio. The presence of music had been more than enough to pull Dennis into their room, dragging Bark and a wooden box of animal jigsaw puzzles. Sitting at the end of the bed, he cheerfully tried to pound the head of an ape onto the body piece of a crocodile. Nasha laughed, but didn't interfere. Dennis knew the pieces didn't fit and she knew Dennis would give up soon enough.

"...I'm starting with the man in the mirror..."

"There's a man in the MIRROR?!" Dennis squawked, shocked. "I wanna see!"

He hopped off the bed, running into the attached bathroom. Mac and Nasha exchanged wry glances, laughing lightly. They heard Dennis singing along with the song, carefully listening for running water or any other warning sounds.

"Dennis, he's talking about his own reflection!" MacGyver called to him, hoping the boy would grow bored and come back.

"...if you wanna make world better place, take a look at yourself and make that CHANGE!" Dennis sang loudly, not responding.

MacGyver rolled his eyes, grabbing the comics section, now that he was done with sports.

"Well, okay," Dennis proclaimed, staring hard into his own eyes, as he balanced on the bathroom sink. "You heard singer! You are in mirror, so I gotta start with you! But, Aunt Matty says I gotta ask nice. She says don't be bossy. I'm not really bossy. I just say things to my Cassian, to be a good helper! But, we gotta decide!"

Dennis pounded his fist into his other hand, pressing his lips together.

"Make changes? Make world better?" he challenged.

He nodded strongly, smiling when his reflection mimicked him.

"OKAY! We're gonna. First change is...we gotta change our underwear," Dennis admitted, shrugging. "Mommy left us out Iron Man! Okay? Okay, good talk."

Dennis hopped down from the bathroom sink and ran off to his room, not stopping long enough to witness MacGyver and Nasha collapsed against each other, laughing.

"Happy New Year's," Nasha told Mac, placing a brief kiss on his lips.

"Yes, it is," MacGyver agreed, warmly. "Does that count as a resolution?"

"Only if he makes a habit of it, without me nagging him!"

"I guess time will tell."

Chuckling, MacGyver returned his wife's kiss. Without breaking contact, Nasha gathered up the scattered sections of the newspaper, dumping them on her bedside table. They spent a few minutes simply kissing and cradling each other. MacGyver hummed with pleasure, skimming his fingertips over her waist.

"Hmm, touch me, love," Nasha encouraged, running her own hand over his hip and back.

They were both too involved in loving each other to notice Dennis come back into the room, MacGyver's phone in his hand.

"You're daddy's friend?" Dennis asked, pausing and listening. "Wellll, I don't know you...you were at the wedding? I don't remember you."

"I do love you," MacGyver whispered, oblivious to Dennis' presence, reaching up under the t-shirt Nasha had worn to bed and cupping her breast.

"Yeah, he's awake. He's touching Mommy's booby."

MacGyver and Nasha jerked apart, turning to stare at Dennis, standing a couple of feet away. Dennis froze, his eyes widening at his parents' alarmed expressions.

"Dennis. Who are you talking to?" MacGyver asked, trying and failing to sound calm.

"Not know!" he yelped, throwing the phone at them, before turning and fleeing the room.

MacGyver groaned, picking up the phone. He placed it to his ear, not sure if he should be comforted or not by the laughter he heard on the other end.

"Hello?" he asked warily.

"Hello, Mac," Charlie greeted, then stopped, laughing too hard to continue.

"Charlie!" MacGyver exclaimed, relieved.

"I'm going to go comfort Dennis," Nasha whispered, giggling.

MacGyver grinned at her, nodding. Smirking, Nasha gave him one more kiss, before leaving the bedroom. She checked Dennis' bedroom, but found it empty. She could faintly hear the television going in the living room and headed there next. Approaching, she saw Cassian sitting on the couch. Dennis was pacing in front of him.

"I can't believe you said that," Cassian said, grinning wildly.

"Said what? They're mommy and daddy. Sometimes, mommies and daddies touch boobies," Dennis insisted.

"You're too young to know that," Cassian sighed. "And, anyways, you still can't just tell people things like that. Mom and Dad deserve privacy!"

"I don't know that," Dennis admitted.

"It means Charlie doesn't need to know what Angus and I do. It's something that should stay between me and your daddy," Nasha explained, gently. "It's all right, though. Come here, darling."

Dennis obeyed, letting Nasha pick him up.

"Telling is bad? Daddy says tell the truth."

"Well, yes, you should be honest, but some things don't need to be said," Nasha explained, kissing his forehead.

"Mmmmm, that sounds fake."

Cassian laughed hard, glad he didn't have to reason with Dennis. Nasha just smiled broadly, shaking her head.

"Well, in a way. It's a rule people made up to help us live together nicely."

"Not telling is nicer?"

"Sometimes."

"Sooomeetimes," Dennis drawled, his eyes wide, as he shrugged. "O-kay."

"Come on, you," Nasha said, teasing. "Now that you've changed your underwear, let's make another good change and get you dressed."

"Two changes?!" Dennis said, sprawling dramatically across her shoulder. "Oh, boy."

"The man in the mirror will thank you."

"He's a silly."

"If you say so, darling," Nasha agreed, carrying him off.

Dennis is two. Nasha and Mac aren't married yet. I'm sorry, Bozer, but I have to.

Bozer had his eyes shut, so he didn't really know what time it was. The heavy lethargy of his limbs and the persistent blackness of his room, even through shut eyes, told him it was very early in the morning. If he held very still, perhaps the warm weight creeping across his legs and stomach to settle on his chest would get bored and go back to bed.

"Uncle Bo-zshr," a piping voice sing-songed, in a loud whisper, before giggling.

No such luck, then. Reluctantly, Bozer pried his eyelids open, only to give a squeak of terror. An infamous figure with hollow eyes floating above painted pink cheeks, surrounded by a mass of white curls, loomed above him. The intruder gave an answering, startled squawk, rearing backward hard enough to almost go flying off the bed. Bozer just managed to catch him, then pulled the George Washington mask off.

"Dennis!" Bozer protested, breathing heavily.

Dennis scooted closer again, taking back the mask.

"I find, Bozshr. I find Georgie!"

"Yeah, you did," Bozer agreed, drily. "Why do you like that thing so much?"

"It's Georgie! I like Georgie."

"Yeah, but why??"

"Because, I..." Dennis trailed off, putting the mask back on, instead of answering in words.

Bozer warily glanced at his alarm clock, which announced that it was 4:47 a.m. He gave a weary chuckle.

"Great. Can we play with Georgie more in the morning?"

"No? Play w' Georgie! Mine!"

"Uh-huh. I really should've tossed that thing," Bozer said, shaking his head.

"Toss? I toss Georgie!" Dennis agreed, taking off the mask and throwing it in the air.

Bozer caught the mask as it came down, huffing in annoyance.

"Hey! It took a lot of hours and talent to make that thing."

"Make? You did?"

"Yeah, I did!"

"You make Georgie?"

"Yes, I made this," Bozer agreed, with a small laugh, glad that Dennis hadn't remembered that.

"Ooooo, pretty!" Dennis proclaimed, impressed all over again.

"I'm glad you like it, but it's still too early for you to be up."

"Up!"

"Not for long," Bozer promised, wrapping his arms around Dennis and struggling into a standing position.

"I go?"

"Yeah, you're going back to bed."

"Go bed? No!"

"Yes. You can keep Georgie with you," Bozer reluctantly offered. "But, you need more sleep."

"Sleep here? Me 'n Georgie?"

"No, you have your own bed!"

Bozer carried Dennis to his room and settled him against his pillows.

"Noooo," Dennis whined, holding his arms out to Bozer. "Stay me! Give huggles!"

Bozer rolled his eyes, but sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Fine, c'mere."

Dennis wiggled back into Bozer's arms, nestling against his chest, clutching Georgie close.

"Don't you think Bark will get jealous of you clinging to that thing?" Bozer asked, hopefully.

"Nooo. Bark loves Georgie."

"Figures. Go to sleep," Bozer instructed, cuddling Dennis close.

Dennis clung to him, gripping the George mask tightly.

"Uncle Bozshr? You mad me?"

"Nope. Just sleepy...just like you!"

"Oh. 'kay. You sleep?"

"As soon as I know you aren't going to go wandering off and terrorize anyone else with that thing."

"Yeah, 'm scary!"

"You have no idea."

Saturday 2 P.M. Jack is hanging out. Amanda hasn't been born yet.

"Uncle Jack, I need you!" Dennis protested, hurrying into the kitchen. "I've been looking!"

"Well, I'm right here," Jack assured him. "What's up, Baby Doc?"

"Why are you in here, when I am gonna be a zombie?!"

"You're going to become a zombie?"

Jack tried not to laugh, watching Dennis huff, his small hands resting in fists on his hips. Nasha couldn't contain her chuckles, turning and pouring herself more coffee to hide her reaction.

"Yeah! And...and I'm gonna try'n EAT Daddy's brains! He has lots of brains, Uncle Jack."

"That's certainly true."

"Yeah, so you gotta come save him."

"You want me to save him, huh?"

"Yeah! I don't want Daddy to not have brains. So, you let me be zombie, then you come save him."

"Well, all right, Baby Doc. You go be a zombie and I'll be there in a bit."

"Okay!"

Jack watched Dennis run off, then gave a hearty laugh.

"My little supervillain," Nasha said, "though I think he just lost his villain card."

"It works for me. I wish more bad guys would arrange their own defeats."

Dennis ran back to where Mac, Riley, Matty, and Nasha were sitting and talking. Mac sat next to Nasha on the couch, leaning back with one hand resting on his wife's leg. Seeing him, Dennis hunched over, contorting his face, with his tongue hanging out.

"Raaagghh, ooooogg, bleeeerrrk," Dennis grunted, climbing up the arm of the couch.

"Dennis, what are you doing?" MacGyver asked, laughing.

"Uh, Daddy!" Dennis protested, a bit hurt. "I'm a zombie. Can't you see?"

"Well, I'm sorry, but I've never seen a real zombie before."

"Well, I am, so I gotta eat your brains," Dennis explained, continuing up onto the back of the couch.

"I don't know. I have a pretty thick skull."

"Yeah, and hair, too, blegh," Dennis said, chewing on a small piece of it.

"Oh, Dennis, that's gross," MacGyver protested, pulling away a bit.

"Yeah, blurrg, arrggh, chomp chomp."

MacGyver pulled forward a bit, but Dennis moved with him, wrapping himself around MacGyver's shoulders and the back of his head. MacGyver tried to grab Dennis, but couldn't get a good angle. Fortunately, Dennis had stopped chewing on his daddy's hair, finding it yucky. He settled for bouncing on his dad's shoulders and dragging fingers through his dad's hair.

"Dennis...c'mon, buddy, give me a break."

"No Dennis. ZOMbieeee urrrrggghhhh," Dennis moaned, then leaned forward, whispering, "but Uncle Jack will help."

"What?"

Jack chose that moment to come in from the kitchen, sipping on a soda.

"Now, see, I go to the kitchen for five minutes and you get yourself attacked by a zombie."

"Grruuuuck. BLurrrrrrgghhhhhh."

"Yeah, that's me. Prone to all sorts of dangers," MacGyver said, grunting as Dennis bounced on the joint of his shoulder. "Gimme a hand?"

"I guess I better. You're gonna need those brains later."

Jack set his soda down on the coffee table and came up in front of MacGyver. Deftly, he expertly plucked Dennis from MacGyver's shoulders, wincing a bit, when the child let out a long, sharp moaning. Jack turned Dennis upside down, holding him by one ankle. Dennis clawed lightly at the air, rolling his eyes and trying to choke down giggles.

"What do you think I should do with this monster? Can't have zombies running around."

"I don't know. He's only a little monster. How about if the zombie meets the tickle monster?" MacGyver said, reaching around and tickling Dennis' tummy.

Dennis squirmed, turning his laughter into zombie gurgles.

"Yeah, I guess we could keep him, but what are we going to feed him?"

"Braaaiinnnsssss."

"Baby Doc, do you remember when we went to the grocery store and you got introduced to head cheese?"

"Dennis ate head cheese?" Nasha asked, astonished, coming into the living room and sitting next to MacGyver.

"Aw, hell no. The boy took one look at the stuff and declared it evil."

"ALL THE YUCK!"

Jack lifted Dennis upright, setting him on his feet.

"Now, what kind of zombie turns down good, yucky meat? That's what brains are all about!"

"Um...I like pepperonis."

"Nah, pepperonis aren't good zombie food. Ya gotta have something gooey and...chunky!"

"Jack!" MacGyver protested, but Jack just laughed.

"Chunnky?" Dennis repeated slowly, grimacing. "Um, how about...RUN!"

Dennis took off running, with Jack close behind.

"Aw, you better run, you little zombie wannabe!"

"Should I tell them not to run in the house?"

"Would either of them listen?"

Dennis headed back into the living room, Jack close behind, with arms held out wide, comically grasping toward the small, giggling boy. Finally, Jack scooped Dennis up, swinging him around.

"And, Jack Wyatt Dalton wins, defeating Zombie Boy! Rahhhhh!"

"Awwwwwwww. No more zombie! I'm Dennis!"

"Nuh uh. You're gonna be a zombie boy and eat some yucky meat. I bet I could talk Bozer into whipping up some liver and onions."

"Pppppbbbtt. Nuh uh."

"Yuh huh."

"Liver and onions. Gyaaaahh. Go away," Dennis ordered, sprawling face-up across Jack's chest.

"You go away," Jack countered, mussing up Dennis's hair.

Giggling again, Dennis turned to face Jack, placing his hands on Jack's shoulders, pulling on him.

"Go away."

"You go away," Jack said, again, putting his hands on Dennis' waist and making small, gentle, shaking motions from side to side.

"No, you go away!"

"They'd both be devastated, if the other went away," MacGyver observed drily.

"Yes, they would," Nasha agreed. "I don't think our little zombie is ready to say bye to his Uncle Jack."

"No, no bye!" Dennis cried, releasing Jack's shoulders and throwing his arms around his neck.

"Aww, I'm not going anywhere, Baby 'Doc," Jack assured him, hugging him tightly.

"No, you stay here with me," Dennis agreed, nodding confidently.

8:42 P.M.

Jack watched in amusement as Dennis pretended to be a spaceship, scolding any tie fighters or x-wings that he imagined getting in his way. The boy's cruising through space was slowing down, though. When the space battle ended, Dennis climbed up on the couch next to Jack. Jaw open wide, Dennis let out a long yawn, drawing chuckles from his parents and brother.

"Damn, Baby 'Doc."

"I'm not tired, Uncle Jack!" Dennis assured him hastily.

"You're not?"

"N-no, no, I just have a few, little yawns stuck in my throat."

Dennis backed up his words with an earnest, little nod. Jack winked at him, nodding sagely.

"I hear ya, Baby 'Doc. Why don't you come sit with me. We'll watch the rest of the movie and you can work on getting those yawns out of your throat."

"Yeah," Dennis agreed, climbing onto Jack's lap and resting against his chest.

By the time the credits rolled, Dennis was a boneless heap, snoring into Jack's shoulder.


Dennis is almost three. Mac and Nasha are already married, but not yet expecting.

Dennis trailed after Jack, who had accepted babysitting duty. Mac was busy at the Phoenix's labs, giving Jack the day off. Nasha had started working for an elementary school. Jack didn't mind. He figured the kid needed at least one person influencing him, who knew what cool was. Right now, Jack had taken Dennis shopping, wanting some new speakers for his television.

Dennis was a little bored by all the TVs, stereos, and cables. But, Uncle Jack had promised him ice cream later, so he toddled along, talking to Bark. He was interrupted by a high, sweet voice.

"...little birds, show them you care, and you'll be glad, if you do..."

Dennis immediately changed course, abandoning Jack and heading for the voice. He discovered the long row of display televisions. On them, a woman in a white shirt and dark skirt sang to a couple of children. She was beautiful, with large blue eyes and dark hair. Her voice...her song was magical. Dennis edged closer to the televisions, their images blotting out the rest of reality.

"All around the cathedral, the saints and apostles look down as she sells her wares. Although you can't see them, you know they are smiling, each time someone shows that he cares..."

Dennis nodded, perfectly willing to agree with anything the pretty lady said or sang.

"Hey, Baby Doc! What are you doing?" Jack asked, gruffly. "Don't just go wandering off!"

"Jack! Look!"

"Ah, Mary Poppins!" Jack said, nodding. "Gotta love the classics."

"Mary? Mary Poppins," Dennis echoed, his eyes still fixed on her.

"Come on, Baby Doc. We gotta go."

"No. Mary! She's singing!"

Sighing, Jack went to the DVD racks, grabbing not only the first movie, but the new sequel.

"Come on. We'll finish watching at home," Jack said, picking Dennis up.

Dennis took the movies, hugging them to his chest, watching the screen, as long as they were in sight.

Two hours and a couple of ice cream sundaes later, Jack sat on his couch, more amused by Dennis, than the movie. The small boy stood nearby, his full attention on the screen. Jack watched as Mary and Bert danced with penguins, expecting Dennis to start dancing and singing, too.

Instead, Dennis burst into tears, sobbing loudly. Quickly, he walked over, stabbing the off button with his finger, before collapsing onto the floor. Jack stared in shock, for a brief moment, then got up. He knelt down in front of Dennis, tapping his shoulder gently.

"Hey, now, Baby Doc. Whatsamatter? Why the waterworks?"

Dennis shook his head violently, his cheeks already utterly wet with tears.

"I can't."

"Can't what?"

"Watch. She's gonna."

Dennis pressed his hands to his eyes, trying to breathe through his sobs.

"Gonna what? Talk to me, kiddo."

"She's gonna kiss him."

"Oh. You don't want them to kiss? How come?"

"She's gonna marry him. He's so good!"

Dennis took a deep breath, then looked up at Jack, with bright, sad eyes.

"I don't want her to marry him. I want her to marry me."

"You want to marry Mary Poppins?" Jack asked gently, forcing himself to not laugh.

Dennis nodded, sniffling.

"Well, I got good news for you, Baby Doc. They don't kiss."

"No?" Dennis asked, amazed, the tears slowing.

"Nope. There's no kissing in this movie. Not even Mr. and Mrs. Banks."

"Well. They're allowed," Dennis admitted, wrinkling his nose.

"Yeah, being married and all. But, Mary doesn't marry Bert."

"Then she can marry me!"

"Yeah, you can marry her, if you want. Why do you want to marry her?"

"Because she's so pretty and she sings so sweet," Dennis said softly, looking down. He lifted his head, pointing firmly at Jack. "She is praticaly perfect in every way."

Jack laughed, nodding. "Yeah, that's what she said."

"Yeah. She is. I wanna watch!"

Dennis breathed a large sigh of relief. He jumped up and turned the movie back on.

"You want to watch the dancing penguins, now you know they're just friends?"

"Yes, please!"

Fortunately, the credits were already rolling, before someone knocked on Jack's door. Dennis gasped, backing away slightly.

"Hey, chill. You don't even know who it is, yet.'

"Nooo. I don't know," Dennis whispered, picking Bark up and clinging to him.

Rolling his eyes, Jack went over to the door, peeking out the viewer. He grinned, throwing the door open.

"Desi Nguyen! Get in here, lady!"

Desi walked in smiling, then frowning slightly in confusion.

"I wasn't expecting a kid. When did that happen for you?"

"He ain't mine! This is my adopted nephew, Mac's kid. Hey, Baby Doc, c'mere. Meet a friend of mine."

Dennis obediently edged forward, hoping to get just close enough to satisfy Jack...and no closer. The lady might be Jack's friend. Maybe. But, Dennis had never seen her before. The lady didn't seem to appreciate that, though, because she stepped even closer, squatting down and smiling. Worse, she reached a hand out towards Dennis, who skipped back, eyes widening even further.

"Jack! She's tryna get me!"

Desi stood, stepping back again, her hands going up and to her sides.

"Sorry, kid. I just was saying hello."

"No, that's not good hello."

"Oh? What's a good hello?" Desi asked, amused.

"I'll show you!"

Dennis ran behind the couch, then reemerged, coming back up to Desi, with plenty of distance between them.

"Hello!" Dennis cried, waving his hand at her. "See? Nice hello and not get me!"

"I'll do better next time," Desi promised, grinning, before turning to Jack. "Wow."

"Yeah, Baby Doc is a bit rough with people he doesn't know. Tell ya what. His parents will be back in a couple of hours. Why don't you and Evan come back around six? I'll take you both out to dinner."

"Sounds like a plan. We'll see you then. Bye, Dennis. You're an interesting kid."

"I'm smart and strong."

"I can see that," Desi agreed, opening and stepping through the door. "Bye, Jack. Bye, Dennis."

"Bye," Dennis said, shrugging. "Can we watch more Mary, Uncle Jack?"

"Yeah, let me switch disks," Jack said, chuckling and shaking his head.

Dennis is seventeen.

Dennis lurked in the nearly empty hallway, standing in front of a barely closed, classroom door. The door was supposed to be locked, but the lock was old and easily picked. Most of the students were already gone, except for the theater kids, like him.

And the student council wannabees.

Dennis waited patiently and finally, his target strode past him. Fortunately, he had lingered behind the other candidates, so there were no witnesses. As "Max Houser" got close enough, Dennis grabbed him, using the element of surprise to toss him into the classroom, then shut the door.

"Hey!" Max protested, barely keeping his balance. "What gives?"

Max frowned at the tall boy, then swallowed. He wasn't sure he actually wanted to know what was going on behind those cold, black eyes. The weight of the unknown boy's gaze made Max shiver. Despite the calm words the boy spoke next, the nearly blank expression on his face didn't help.

"We need to talk."

"Yeah?" Max asked warily. "What about?"

"Who are you?"

Max laughed, nervously, making Dennis want to smack him upside the head. Max's hair was dark, but dyed bright blond on the sides. It was a small detail, but annoying.

"I'm Max Houser, man. I mean, you have to know a little about me. I'm running for student council. Unfortunately," Max said, the last word mostly under his breath.

"Tell me something, Max. Did you get that name off a coffee can? You did, didn't you?"

Max took a deep breath and started walking to the door.

"Look. I don't have time for this."

Dennis grabbed Max by the shoulders, throwing him to the ground.

"You're going to make time, pal," Dennis said, kneeling over him, the smile on his face not matching the glare in his eyes.

Max wished the guy would blink or look away just a bit. The deep black of his gaze made it hard for Max to think. It was just creepy...and that thought brought recognition.

"You're Casper...uh. Dennis! Right?" Max demanded, a bit relieved, when Dennis nodded slightly. "What do you want?!"

Dennis tilted his head, examining Max closely. He looked honestly bewildered, which struck Dennis as a bit weird. But, who was he to talk?

"Hm. Let me explain. I know you aren't a student here. I doubt you're even young enough. And, you've been spending an awful lot of time around my pal Patrick."

"Of course, I'm a student! Ask my teachers. And, Patrick's a...friend. What's it to you, anyway?" Max blustered.

Dennis grabbed Max by the shirt, bringing them nose to nose.

"Listen to me. Patrick's a goofy little horndog, but he's got a good heart and I like him. I don't know what kind of hold you have on him, but it ends. Right now."

"And, if it doesn't?" Max asked, wondering how he would get through anything without Patrick.

Something bright and hard flashed across Dennis' eyes. His grip tightened on Max's shirt. He was so focused on controlling his violent impulses, that he missed the door quietly opening.

"That wouldn't be good for your health."

"No, no, Dennis! Leave him alone, please," Patrick urged, hurrying over and grabbing Dennis' shoulder.

"An adult playing at being a high school student and showing an unhealthy interest in you? Give me one good reason."

Max paled, watching Patrick swallow hard. They couldn't just tell this kid, but...he already seemed to know?

"He's my cousin," Patrick admitted. "I'm helping him hide here, until he can get out of some trouble. Please, Dennis. He's not the bad guy."

Dennis studied them both, dissecting them and Patrick's story. Shrugging, he released Max, then tugged Patrick a short distance away.

"Okay, who is the bad guy, then? Convince me, Patrick."

"Victor Kapados."

Dennis waited a moment for more, then shrugged dramatically.

"I've never met him! You'll have to give me more than that."

"Don't you watch the news?" Max asked, irritated, climbing to his feet.

"No. I'm perfectly aware of man's inhumanity to man, without dwelling on the details."

"He's a mob boss," Max explained. "I'm a stockbroker. We didn't realize he was floating dirty bonds and we're supposed to testify against him. If we live that long."

Dennis stared, wide-eyed, between them, a sharp laugh bubbling up from his throat.

"You're hiding from mob hitmen," he said, then turned on Patrick, frowning. "You're helping him hide from mob hitmen."

"Yeah, and before you freak out at me about it, let me ask you. What would you do, if it was your family?" Patrick demanded.

Dennis' mouth snapped shut, his lips curling up in a guilty smile. He shrugged.

"Point."

"Great, so, we'll be going," Max tried, his bright, fake smile fading, when Dennis thrust a finger in his direction.

"You be quiet. Patrick and I aren't done talking. You're lucky this has worked so far."

"So, you won't tell Ms. McGee?" Patrick asked hopefully.

"Ms. McGee? No, no, no. We aren't telling Ms. McGee anything. This is need to know only and she definitely doesn't."

"Look, we appreciate you keeping quiet about this, but we don't need any more help," Max said, frowning.

"I didn't say I would keep quiet. I said we weren't going to tell Ms. McGee. You brought your problems to my high school, endangering my friends, not to mention your own flesh and blood..."

"Look, I'm sorry..."

"Shut. Up. Now, obviously, the killers after you are incompetent or you would be dead already. But one of two things is going to happen. The killers are going to find you or they'll be replaced by some that can. So, yes, Mr. Coffee, you do need help."

"From you?!" Max scoffed.

"From me," Dennis agreed cheerfully.

"What are you going to do?" Patrick asked, resigned.

"You're going to come to my house for supper, you and this cousin of yours. Do not stand me up. We'll talk more, then."

"What about your parents?" Max protested.

"Oh, they're lovely people. I'm sure you'll get along famously!"

"Great," Max grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"Six-thirty. Don't be late."


Dennis tossed his bookbag into the closet with more force than was necessary.

"Stupid, ridiculous..." he trailed off, fuming, and marched into the kitchen.

Nasha looked away from the vegetables she was chopping, as Dennis yanked open the refrigerator door, grabbing himself a soda.

"Is everything all right?"

"No. We're having a couple of guests for supper."

"It's a good thing we're having stew. Who are these guests?" Nasha asked puzzled. "Someone you don't like, I take it."

"Oh, no, that would be too easy! I actually do like him. The whole damn school does! Well, except for Kevin and a few of his cronies."

"Who are we talking about and why is he coming over, if you're this upset with him?"

"Well, you've probably heard of him as Max Hauser."

"The boy running for class president? Amanda seems pretty happy that he's running."

"Yeah, well, I've been noticing stuff about him. He's...y'know I forgot to get his real name? He's some stockbroker and he's been hiding out from the mob."

"Stockbroker? Andrew Morenski?" Nasha asked astonished.

"Sounds right," Dennis said, shrugging and slumping down into a seat at the table. "That's Patrick's last name and he's Patrick's cousin. So, instead of going to the cops or the FBI, he decides to hide from assassins in a high school...while running for class president, no less!"

"In his defense," MacGyver said from the doorway, "Morenski was in protective custody. The FBI agents in charge of him took him out to eat in a diner and the assassin shot them. He killed one agent and injured the other."

Dennis groaned, waving his hands out from his sides in frustration.

"Oh, good. The idiot managed to shoot everyone except his target! Brilliant."

"How did you find out about all this?" MacGyver asked.

"Are you kidding? I thought Max was a pedophile! I dragged him into a classroom to get some answers from him. Instead, Patrick showed up and told me what was going on."

MacGyver considered addressing his son's aggression, but decided to save it for later.

"Okay, so we need to find and talk to Morenski, before he bolts."

"He damn well better not," Dennis snarled. "I told him to be here at six-thirty."

"Language, Dennis...and, what else did you tell him?" Macgyver asked, warily.

Dennis blinked, shaking his head slightly, then gave a short laugh.

"Oh, no! Nothing."

"Nothing. Then, what makes you think Morenski will show up...if he thinks you're just an ordinary kid."

"Dad, no one has thought I was an ordinary kid, since kindergarten. I'm Casper. Anyway, Patrick trusts me, and Morenski...doesn't have a lot of options."

"Bolting is an option, Dennis."

"Sure, but he can't predict how I'll react, if he doesn't show up."

"It's after six, now," Nasha said, shrugging.

"Yay," Dennis answered, slumping down in his chair.

"Does he know I'm a federal agent?"

"Nope. I didn't say anything about that either. I figured you need to clear things with Aunt Matty first."

"Yeah, I better do that," Mac agreed, dryly.

"In the meantime, Dennis, set the table please," Nasha said.

Grumbling, Dennis got out bowls and plates, while MacGyver called his boss, Matty. The doorbell rang, just as MacGyver finished his phone call. Dennis started to head towards the door, but Nasha thrust a bundle of silverware into his hands, shaking her head sternly.
MacGyver went to the door instead. Opening it, he found Patrick and Andrew Morenski. MacGyver almost laughed, comparing the nervous young man before him to the photos from the news.

"Hi," Andrew greeted. "Um, Dennis invited us over. I'm..."

"Andrew Morenski. I know. Hello, Patrick."

"Hi, Mr. Mac," Patrick said, with wry humor, watching Andrew deflate.

"Dennis told you about me, huh?"

"Yes, he did. Come on in. Supper is almost ready."

"Ee-yeah. Look. I'm sorry Dennis dragged you into this. I'm not sure why Dennis dragged you into this, either..."

"Probably because I'm a federal agent."

"You're a fed?!" Patrick gasped, eyes wide. "That is..."

"Classified, Patrick," Dennis interrupted, coming to the door. "It's classified."

"Totally not my business and not something I will be talking about," Patrick continued, smiling.

"Who would we tell?" Andrew said, shrugging, as they all sat at the table.

"Mr. Morenski..."

"Andy, please."

"If we're going by first names, we'd better stick with Max. Max, this is my wife, Nasha, and our daughter, Amanda."

"Nice to meet you, ladies."

"Hi."

"I'm sorry it's in such bad circumstances, Max," Nasha said, kindly.

"Thank you. So. I guess I'm back in protective custody."

"Well, that's up to you. If you're willing, we can keep you in school..."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Dennis, hush."

"Mom!"

"The assassin targeting Max killed an FBI agent and that's only his most recent kill. Matty thinks we can use this to bring him down and make sure Kapados' organization doesn't simply reorganize," MacGyver explained.

"So, I can go back into federal custody or volunteer to be bait," Andrew summarized, with a tired sigh.

"Pretty much, yeah. It's your choice."

Andrew and MacGyver studied each other, before Andrew looked away.

"Y'know, Dennis has a point. The guy shot up a diner. What's to say he won't shoot up a high school? I disappear, the danger disappears, too."

"Um. This guy wouldn't bother Max's friends, would he? If he found out Max was at school?" Patrick asked, nervously.

"Of course, he would," Dennis said, grimly. "Get one of his teachers or friends someplace quiet, get the information, and make them disappear."

"Aw, damn."

"On the other hand, if you're there, we have an excuse to put protection in place and can hopefully catch this guy, before he can strike."

Everyone ate quietly for some time, letting Andrew turn things over in his head. Andrew tossed his spoon down, shaking his head.

"I don't know. I just don't know! I've got no good options here. I'm sorry I created this mess. If I die, Kapados walks. I don't want anyone else in danger."

"But, they are," Dennis said, quietly. "And, you disappearing won't change that."

"What, you want me to stay? I thought you'd be on board with me being gone."

Dennis laughed, ruefully, shrugging.

"I told you I'd help you. Yeah, this situation pisses me off. You have no idea. The sheer incompetence disgusts me, both the FBI's and the assassin's. But, your absurd name aside, you've done a good job of blending in. What idiot on the run would run for class president?"

"Thanks, I think."

"You can trust my dad and his team. They won't let you down."

"You might as well take down as many bad guys as you can," Patrick said, shrugging.

Andrew took a deep, shaky breath, then nodded tightly.

"Okay. Let's do this. What happens now?"

"You continue doing what you've been doing," MacGyver instructed. "Go to school, act as normally as you can. We'll do the rest."


"We'll do the rest," Andrew muttered, lighting a cigarette, while lurking in the shadow of the stone fence surrounding the school's courtyard. "Yeah, right."

A hand appeared close to his face, plucking the cigarette away. Andrew flinched, looking up in dread, then relaxed. Dennis stood next to him, the cigarette pinched between his fingers. Smirking, he stubbed out the cigarette against the fence.

"That's against school rules, Max. And, the idea is to keep you alive."

"I'm nervous, okay? I've gotta a killer after me, not to mention an election to lose."

"Fair enough."

Dennis studied Andrew, laughing silently.

"Wh-why are you so cheerful?" Andrew complained.

"Relax. You need to appear normal. If you're all keyed up, people will notice."

"Where's Patrick?"

"Some sophomores are teaching him D and D."

"D and..."

"Dungeons and Dragons! You'll lose your nerd cred, Houser."

"What a shame that would be."

"C'mon. We have twenty minutes before first bell. I'll buy you a coffee."

Andrew reluctantly followed Dennis across the street, to the café. Sitting at the counter, Andrew drummed his fingers, smiling anxiously at the other students. Dennis smiled at Gurdie, who stood wearily, looking like she needed a cup of coffee, too.

"Your usual, Dennis?"

"Yeah, and a coffee for Max, too."

"Black?"

"Yes, thanks," Max agreed, turning back to Dennis. "Patrick told me about you helping him out with Chuck. Thanks. He was right to trust you."

"It's not me you're trusting," Dennis said quietly, then grinned. "My dad is the guy to trust..."

A tater tot flew through the air, hitting Dennis in the head, accompanied by, "SMEGGING HELL, Casper, shut up about your DAD!"

Dennis whirled, finding himself staring at a red-headed young man in a green sweater. Dennis studied him, then frowned thoughtfully.

"Do I know you?" Dennis asked, earning a tired sigh.

"I'm Warren, in your chemistry class. We get it. Your dad is a super genius. A brilliant scientist. The greatest guy you know."

Dennis shrugged.

"Well, he is," he defended, before turning to Max.

"Smegging? Where did that come from?"

"Red Dwarf," Max told him, dryly. "It's a British sci-fi comedy show. Ahern's a fan. We got regaled with a lot of his favorite bits."

"O-kay."

"I'm not taking criticism from the kid who hero-worships his dad," Warren said, sulking.

"Aw, c'mon. Hero worshipping his dad is cool," Clinton said, sidling up to Dennis and Max. "Hey, Mad Max. Today is the day. You ready?"

"As I'm ever going to be," Max conceded, draining the last of his coffee.

"You gonna come vote for my man, Dennis?"

"Probably, but I have five more minutes, before first bell."

"Gotta love your sense of timing," Clinton said, laughing and patting Dennis on the shoulder, ignoring the incredulous stares that earned. "Love watching this dude on a stage."

Max let himself be dragged back to the school and the assembly crouching over the start of his day. Dennis watched him go, a trickle of genuine pity entering his heart. He handed Gurdie some bills, including enough for a decent tip.

"Is praising my dad creepy?" he asked.

"Nah. Cheer up, kid. For once, you're not the creepiest person I've seen today."

Dennis didn't let the frown appear on his lips, forcing himself to only look interested.

"Who was the creepiest?"

"Some guy," Gurdie said, shrugging. "He was looking for someone or another. I dunno."

"Aren't we all? Bye, Gurdie."

"Yeah, kid, have a blast."

Dennis walked outside, pausing and looking around. He didn't see anything strange, but a chill went down his spine, anyways. Despite the looming threat of first bell, Dennis walked slowly to back to school, gazing steadily around him. By the time he was on school grounds, he wasn't expecting to find anything.

But, he did.

Dennis stared grimly at the row of campaign posters, all featuring Max Hauser's face...except for the one at the far left. That one definitely showed Andrew Morenski, with full beard, mustache, and glasses. Dennis grabbed the poster, then the one next to it and headed into the building, now moving as swiftly as he could, without outright running.
Fortunately the teachers and other students were already in the auditorium.

Entering, Dennis saw that the assembly was starting, the student council candidates sitting in a row, like ducks in a shooting range, he thought with morbid humor. Pulling out his phone, he sent a text to his dad, paused, then sent another to his Aunt Matty.

"Dennis!" Patrick called, coming over, grinning. "Poor Max looks a bit freaked out."

"He should," Dennis said, showing Patrick the campaign posters.

Patrick paled, looking around wildly, before Dennis nudged him.

"What do we do?" Patrick whispered, a breath away from panic.

"Nothing," Dennis said, with forced lightness, scanning the teachers and staff on stage. "I've already called...where's your mom?"

"In the infirmary, I guess," Patrick said, shrugging, then winced. "That's okay, right?"

"Stay here," Dennis ordered.

Shoving the posters in his jacket pocket, Dennis headed for the nurse's office. He had enough sense to be relieved that the hallways remained empty. Carefully, he eased the office door open and saw Mrs. Morenski sitting at her desk, filling out papers. She looked up and frowned.

"Dennis, what's wrong?"

Dennis took the posters and laid them in front of her.

"Max Houser is your nephew Andrew and he's been made."

Mrs. Morenski's eyes widened. She grabbed the posters, studying them, processing what they told her.

"I...he...how did you find out? Dennis, don't draw this on any more posters! No one can know!"

"I didn't draw those. Mrs. Morenski, he's been made!"

"Made what?" she asked, too stunned to keep up.

Dennis took a slow breath, reminding himself it wasn't her fault.

"Discovered, Mrs. Morenski, and not just by me. We have to assume the bad guys are on their way."

"The bad guys," she repeated, breathlessly, looking about herself, as if for answers. "We'll call the cops...no. No, I should call the FBI. You should go back to the assembly..."

"Federal agents are already on their way," Dennis assured her. "I think we should both go to the assembly."

"Right. I have to warn everyone..."

"That wouldn't do anything, but cause a panic. I just think you will be less of a target, if you're around other people."

Mrs. Morenski stopped fidgeting and stared hard at him.

"Target? What are you talking about?"

"Grab his aunt and use her as bait, to draw Andrew somewhere private. Kill him, immediately, but keep her, in case a hostage is needed. Get out of town, then kill her and dump her body. Then, disappear."

"Y-young man, you have been watching far too many action movies!"

"I hope so, but why don't we join the rest of the school, anyways. Just in case."

"Fine. We're probably over-reacting. I mean, a school is a public place! It's too risky to do anything here."

Dennis shook his head, laughing softly, watching Mrs. Morenski instinctively grab her purse.

"I don't think they're that smart, ma'am. I mean, a diner is a public place, too. But, hey, maybe they learned their lesson."

"I still don't understand...how are you involved in this? Why?"

"Patrick is my friend and I knew something was funny about Max. I confronted them and they told me everything."

"Patrick knew?!"

Dennis gave her a quick glance, as they hurried down the hallway, shrugging lightly.

"Well, yeah. He's been helping Max blend in. Wouldn't you?"

"I...well, c'mon, he could have told me!"

"Yeah, they have made a lot of interesting decisions. Admit it, though. You would have called the feds."

"Well...yes! It's the responsible thing to do."

"Sure, except the FBI dropped the ball pretty hard. They didn't even protect themselves, much less your nephew."

"Dennis, things aren't that black and white. Believe me, you'll understand that, when you're older."

"I'm sure I will," Dennis agreed amicably, before pulling her sharply into a classroom.

"Dennis!"

"Shhh. Someone is coming," Dennis told her, opening his backpack and removing the zip ties he had started carrying.

"Well, it's probably another student," Mrs. Morenski scolded.

"Really? How many kids do you know will skip this assembly? Even if they're sick?"

A shadow fell over the door's window. Dennis peered out, seeing a man, dressed in black jeans and t-shirt. So, not a teacher. Grinning, Dennis swung the door outward, crashing it into the him.

"Dennis!" Mrs. Morenski tried to protest, her voice failing her.

Dennis ignored her, aggressively following up his attack. The man just stood there, clutching his eye, where the door had caught him. He looked up, just as Dennis grabbed him and flung him into the wall. Flailing, the man bounced off, landing hard on the floor. Reaching down, Dennis clapped his hands over the man's ears, producing a pained wail. Dennis stared for a second in disbelief, then flipped the man over, grabbing his wrists. In mere moments, Dennis had the man secured.

"Wow. You are not good at this!" Dennis said, stunned.

The man just grunted, trying to work his way free. Dennis shook his head, patting the man down, finding his gun...his only gun. Dennis stared at the man in sheer disbelief.

"This is it? You've only got one weapon? Nothing for back-up?"

The man had the gall to give a slight shrug, looking confused. Dennis laughed.

"You're pathetic," Dennis told him, making sure the safety was engaged.

"DENNIS! First, we do not mock people, especially when they are already down. SECONDLY, do not mock people who are willing to kill you. Now, give me that gun."

Dennis and the assassin both stared at her, amazed. Dennis gave a complacent smile, nodding and shrugging lightly.

"Okay."

Dennis handed her the gun, watching her place it in her purse. Shaking his head, he turned and once more headed for the assembly.

"A-are we just going to leave him here, like this?" Mrs. Morenski asked.

"Sure. The police will pick him up later."

Mrs. Morenski made a helpless sound in the back of her throat, but began following Dennis. She was almost stunned to discover that only a few minutes had passed, since Dennis came through her door. The assembly was really just getting started. Staring hard at "Max Houser," yes, she could see now that he was her nephew. She crossed her arms, impatient for the assembly to be over. Oh, she and Andrew, and her son for that matter, were going to have words!

Dennis managed to slip away, while Mrs. Morenski fumed at the younger members of her family. Picking his way along the sides, he managed to get backstage. The few teachers who weren't onstage or shepherding the audience assumed that Dennis was supposed to be there and ignored him. Dennis stopped just offstage, surveying the student council candidates...lined up in a neat row on one side of the podium. Turning towards the audience, Dennis scanned the room.

He spotted the assassin, just as he began firing. The bullets bit into the podium, sending shards of plywood flying. Dennis stalked onto the stage, as Max and Kevin dove behind the podium. Everyone else began screaming and running for the doors. Grabbing a microphone from the podium, Dennis shouted.

"HEY, STUPID!"

Most of the students ignored him, but the ones closest to him and several of the teachers stopped, staring at him in amazement. Dennis stood calmly in the middle of the now empty stage, his eyes fixed on the balconies running along every side of the room. The students paying attention began grabbing the ones running by them, pointing at the stage.

"What's he doing?" "Who is that?" "It's Casper." "It's Dennis." "What is he doing?" "Someone get that boy off the stage!"

"What do we have here? A tormented child, relieving his pain by killing his classmates?" Dennis asked. "Oh. No! We're being treated to a professional! A bonafide. Big. Bad. Assassin."

Dennis bobbed his head from side to side in time with his words, with enough sass to impress the pickiest valley girl. The assassin stared down at him, eyes widening in shock, as a weird hush settled on the room.

"You suck, you know. I mean, obviously, as an assassin you suck as a person, right?? But, DUDE. YOU SUCK AT YOUR JOB," Dennis complained. "Oh, by the way, we sometimes use those balconies during plays; the acoustics are amazing. You can actually talk back to me, if you like."

The assassin shook his head, looking around at all the witnesses now staring up at him.

"No? Hm. I can't really blame you," Dennis said, grabbing the second microphone from the podium and tossing it to Max.

"Tell me, Max, how does it feel to know that Kapados sent the most incompetent jackass imaginable to kill you? That has to be a bit insulting."

Max stared hard at Dennis, realizing the young man genuinely wanted an answer. Laughing slightly, Max shrugged.

"It works for me. I'm still alive."

"Right," Dennis conceded, turning his attention back to the assassin. "But, c'mon. This set up was perfect. You've got the high ground, Max, sorry, Andrew, all out in the open...and you missed. You missed. You can't even aim properly!"

"Dennis!" Coach called from the opposite side of the stage. "Boy, you take cover right now. You'll get yourself killed!"

"How about it? Are you planning to kill me?" Dennis asked the assassin, who just trembled, eyes darting around. "What exactly is your exit strategy? It doesn't look like you have one."

"Dennis, I think you should listen to Coach and get off the stage," Max coaxed, grinning too widely.

"Why? He's not getting paid to kill me and he can't kill this many witnesses."

"That might not matter, if you continue to Piss. Him. Off."

"He started it."

The assassin scanned the doors, chewing on his lip.

"What's the matter, buddy? If you're looking for your playmate, he isn't coming. He's all tied up in the hallway outside the nurse's office."

"Who the hell are you?!" the assassin demanded, frustration shattering his silence.

"I'm Casper the Friendly Ghost," Dennis said, laughing lightly. "I..."

Dennis' phone buzzed, interrupting him. Looking down, he read a text from Aunt Matty:

"Get off that stage right now, young man. We'll take it from here."

"Oops. Time to go. The calvary has arrived."

Dennis turned to walk offstage. He took three steps and felt a bullet rattle the stage close behind him. Turning, Dennis stared at the hole in disbelief. Shaking his head, Dennis gave a disgusted sigh.

"Dude. I...y'know, I'm gonna assume you missed on purpose this time. You can't be stupid enough to just shoot me down, in front of witnesses, when I've already told you law enforcement is on it's way. You...you just can't!"

"Why should I believe you?" the assassin asked bitterly.

As he spoke, a strike team of six men in heavy armor stormed into the gymnasium, assault rifles at the ready. Dennis was slightly amused, realizing he didn't recognize any of them. They fanned out, all of them aiming at the would-be killer. Gulping, he dropped his weapon, raising his hands in defeat.

"Don't move. Keep your hands where we can see them," the team leader demanded, as two of his men moved up into the balcony, flanking their target.

Within minutes, the strike team had the assassin in custody, dragging him out the door. Two more men emerged with the second killer, still wearing the zip ties Dennis had used on him. Dennis watched them go in satisfaction, then his phone buzzed again.

"Thank you for the distraction," the text read, from his grandfather this time. "Don't ever do that again."

"Sorry, Pah-pop. I lost my temper," Dennis texted back.

"Understandable."

"You really are crazy," Kevin scolded.

"Did you ever doubt it?"

"Kevin, good luck as student council president. I think my high school career is over. For good this time."

"You're that guy," Kevin realized, amazed. "The stockbroker that went missing."

"Yeah, that's me."

The strike team leader came up onto the stage.

"Mr. Morenski? It's time to go."

"No, wait!"

Ryan and Patrick rushed up on the stage, moving awkwardly around the strike team leader.

"Uh, Ryan..."

"I know. I just...I wanted to say good-bye. Good luck, M-Andrew."

"Well. Who knows. Maybe I'll see you around."

"Yeah, when she's no longer a minor," Dennis advised.

"Shut up, Dennis," Ryan told him, rolling her eyes.

"Fine. Whatever."

Laughing, Andrew Morenski stepped forward, holding out his hand.

"Thank you, Dennis."

Dennis took his hand, giving it a firm, friendly shake.

"Take care, Andrew."

"Keep an eye on my goofy, horndog cousin?"

"HEY!" Patrick protested, sulking.

"Like I said. I like him."

"Patrick, I don't know when I'll see you again. Take care of yourself and your mom."

"Yeah, I will. Go take down Kapados."

"We really need to leave now, Mr. Morenski."

Andrew let himself be lead away, casting a final glance back, just before disappearing outside.

"My life just got boring again," Patrick said, sighing.

""May you live in interesting times is a curse, Patrick."

"Yeah? So's high school. You do realize you're probably going to end up in detention? Seriously, man, what were you thinking?"

"Lack of impulse control is a symptom of what ails me."

"Dennis MacGyver!" Ms. McGee said, sharply, approaching with Coach beside her.

"Wish me luck, Patrick."

"Good luck, Dennis."