Wherever Paul Briggs is, he owes her big time for being the best damn reluctant babysitter in the history of people who get stuck with other people's kids.

Granted, she doesn't do anything vastly different from what she would do with just her boys. But it's still pretty impressive that she managed to get all three of them down for a needed nap, help with their homework, feed them a nutritious supper, and still find time to clean the kitchen while the kids are playing in the living room.

Of course, she has all this time because it's been two hours and no one has come to claim this child.

Again, he owes her big time.

Charlie throws her dishtowel in the sink and peers around the corner to see what's going on with the kids. The older two are climbing the bookcase while Mike acts as lookout, which she discovers because Mike is five and therefore a terrible look out. Wincing, she dashes into the living room to intervene.

Okay, not her finest moment of supervision. Maybe Paul Briggs only owes her medium time.

"Stop," she corrects sternly, wrapping an arm around each of their waists and lowering them to the floor. "You're too heavy, it'll come down on top of you."

Paige and Johnny exchange a thoughtful look, before their eyes swivel towards where Mike is coloring on the floor.

"Hey, Mikey…"

Charlie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "No. No one is climbing the bookcase. It's time to play another game."

That opens the door to a whole new catastrophe because Mike wants to play FBI (like he always does), and while Johnny's agreeable, Paige clams up and starts shaking like a leaf, refusing to play without a clear reason as to why. In the interest of not traumatizing the poor girl further, Charlie temporarily lifts the ban on indoor football, which they're all willing to play, and sits down on the couch to watch them gleefully destroy her living room.

"My dad teaches tie dye," Paige announces, seemingly out of nowhere. "And nothing else. That's all he does."

Charlie nods, only partially listening. She's bothered, keeping one eye on Paige who has gone from terror to sunshine the second the FBI game was taken off the table. What kind of family teaches a kid to be that afraid of the police?

There's a knock at the door, so maybe she's about to find out.

"Stay here," Charlie orders. "And everyone keeps both feet on the ground."

When she goes to answer it, she has at least half a dozen starters to what is going to be one hell of a rant swimming in her head, but when she opens the door, she's momentarily surprised into silence.

"Paul Briggs?" she asks suspiciously.

He nods, and Charlie steps aside to let him in, eyeing him carefully because he hasn't even said anything and yet she instantly gets this strange feeling like she's being deceived.

She pictured Paige's father as the clean cut type, blonde like her, probably in a business suit with his hand glued to his cell phone. Paul Briggs is not what she expects.

Still, doesn't make him any less of a jackass.

"Well, look who finally showed up. Decide you're gonna keep her after all?" she asks, staring directly at him in a way that would intimidate most people but doesn't seem to be fazing him.

He chuckles guiltily. "Yeah, that's what I was planning."

"Really? Because two hours at the school and two here means the kid was unattended for almost four hours." She tries to maintain eye contact as she packs Paige's backpack but has to look down to find her homework. "Doesn't seem like someone who plans on getting his daughter back," she says under her breath.

Instantly, he goes from sheepish to defensive, pulling himself up to full height, like that's going to make him any less wrong. "Look, my son got detention-"

Charlie laughs highly. "It's been a great day for this family, huh?"

"-and I was working late," he continues firmly. "I'm a single parent."

"So am I, but somehow I manage to bring both my kids home at night." She smiles scornfully and figures out which folder is Paige's before shoving it in her backpack. "And it's 7 o'clock. How late do people tie-dye in this town?"

Paul looks at her like he's questioning her sanity. "What?"

"Paige says you teach tie-dye," she mutters, defensively because even though it didn't sound right to her either, it was also too strange for someone to completely fabricate, even a second grader.

It takes a minute but eventually he interprets that one and his face relaxes for the first time since he showed up at her door. Without that pinched look on his face, she can see that he's tired and has been for some time now. (He's also pretty damned easy on the eyes but that's hardly relevant.)

"Tae bo," he explains, chuckling and rubbing his face. "I'm a tae bo instructor."

"S'what I said!" A voice sounds from around the corner.

"Paige," Paul sighs, crouching down to her level. "You okay?"

Her arms wind around his neck and he scoops her up onto his hip. "I thought it was like last time," she mutters into his neck.

Charlie startles. "Oh, so this is a habit of yours?"

Briggs glares at her and kisses the side of Paige's head. "I wouldn't do that," he promises. "DJ got detention, and they took his phone. He tried so hard to get there. We both did."

"Not hard enough," Charlie snorts.

That gets his attention again. "Do you have something to say?"

Smiling sweetly, she gently puts her hands on either side of Paige's head, over her ears, to muffle her hearing. "Yes," she admits, consciously keeping her face happy. "What kind of father leaves a seven year old sitting alone outside the school like that?"

"What kind of person takes a kid they don't even know?"

"I knew her! She was the kid who hit my kid!"

"What?" Paul grabs her wrists and uncovers Paige's ears. "Paige?"

She heaves the biggest sigh that Charlie has ever seen come from such a little girl. "DJ signed the note."

Paul closes his eyes, shakes his head, and Charlie can feel some of the tension leaving the room. It's hard to keep reading him the riot act when he has that weary, tried-patience look on his face that she knows she wears often enough.

"She's fine," she says finally. "And the hit wasn't entirely undeserved."

Nodding, he reaches for Paige's backpack and starts towards the door. "Thank you," he says, lingering awkwardly in the open doorway. "For…everything."

They're in the hallway before she finally convinces herself to do something and follows. "Wait," she calls reluctantly.

Paul turns around.

"How long is your boy in detention?"

"All week," he says, on the border of curious and suspicious.

She's going to regret this…

"I'll pick her up," she offers. "And you can come get her here. Just so I know you're not letting her hitchhike or anything."

"We're home," Paul announces, holding the door for Paige to sprint through. "Safe and sound."

Dale pops up from where he was seated on the couch, holding his face in his hands. He immediately scoops his sister up in his arms, clearly wracked with guilt, just like he was earlier when he finally managed to get ahold of Paul to tell him Paige was missing. "I'm so sorry, Paige. They wouldn't let me leave, and they took my phone."

"You forgot me!" she accuses.

"No, I didn't," he tries to explain, balancing her on his hip while she scrambles to get high enough to look him in the eye. "I was in detention-"

"You forgot me!"

Chuckling, Paul throws his wallet and keys on the counter and hangs Paige's bookbag from the back of a kitchen chair. "You should cut him a little slack. He was nice enough to sign that note for you."

DJ winces, but Paige seems to think that sounds like a good deal because she kisses his cheek before she squirms to be released. He puts her down and keeps his eyes on the floor as she runs to her room.

"So listen, about that," he mutters, dragging a hand across the back of his neck. "I just didn't think it was a big dea-"

"She conned you, huh?" Paul guesses.

"She definitely conned me," he admits. "I'll think long and hard about it during my detention."

"Yeah, what's up with that anyway?" They both sit down at the table, and Paul grabs a beer for himself and a soda for DJ.

This is new. Dale's no angel, but he doesn't cause trouble for the sake of it either. Paul looks curiously at his son, who is suddenly in no mood to look him in the eye.

"I skipped some classes," DJ says mostly into his glass. "Went to see...um..."

"DJ," Paul groans into his hands. "You know I don't care about the ditching so much. But that other stuff can get real ugly, real fast. If it were up to me it wouldn't be a problem, but..."

"I know," he says dejectedly.

Paul suppresses a sigh. Damnit Cassandra…

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," he says finally. "Or maybe I'll forget and we won't."

Nodding gratefully, DJ takes a long sip of his soda. "So what was the lady that took Paige like?"

Wincing because that's not a phrase any parent likes to hear, Paul shrugs. "I'm sure she was nice to her. Not so much to me."

The next day, Charlie leaves a curt message to tell him that she took the kids to the beach and if he wants his daughter back before 8:00 pm, he would just have to make it work. That would probably irritate any other parent, but he figures this is nothing compared to how he inconvenienced her yesterday and he owes Paige a day at the beach anyway.

He sits down on the other half of Charlie's towel and joins her in watching the kids at the edge of the water, Johnny and Mike in their swim trunks and Paige wearing an oversized t-shirt that must belong to Charlie. Charlie nods to acknowledge she knows he's there but doesn't look at him, staring stiff faced towards the ocean. Paul sighs.

"I'm not actually a terrible person, you know."

She shrugs and lifts her sunglasses to the top of her head. "I don't think you're a terrible person. I think you're a terrible parent."

He whistles lowly. "Ouch."

She doesn't mean it, he's sure of it. And even in she did, what does she know? It really shouldn't matter what this woman who has known his family for one day (and one of their worst days, at that) thinks about him.

Except, for some reason, it does.

They sit in silence, until Charlie decides to make an effort at polite conversation and nods towards a group of people taking some kind of exercise class a ways down the beach. "Feel like jumping in?"

"No," he snorts. "I think I'll be able to resist the urge to kick box on the beach."

Her head snaps towards him, and suddenly she's looking at him too intensely. "That's tae bo," she says slowly. "They're doing tae bo."

Shit.

"Not well," he lies smoothly, pretending to squint for a better look. He shrugs, heart racing. "Doesn't even look like it."

He hasn't blown a cover like that in a long time, but the feeling comes rushing back. It's like what he would imagine falling out of a moving car would feel like in that split second before you hit the ground. Even with stakes so low that he can't even really identify them, his stomach still drops.

"Paige!" he calls when he notices the three of them clustering around what looks like a jellyfish, almost glad for the distraction. "Don't touch!"

Her toe inches closer, and Paul sighs and stands up. "Paige!"

"Come on, guys," Charlie calls, reclining back on her bent elbows. Casual, like her kids weren't about to get themselves stung. "Time to go."

All three come scrambling up the beach, legs comically unsteady on the sand.

"Guess what?" Johnny offers, grinning and pounding his ear against a towel to let the water drain out. Distractedly, Charlie murmurs something that may have been a guess as she kneels to help Mike with the zip on his sweatshirt.

"We're gonna have a fire on the beach with Paige!"

Paige is struggling to get her school shirt back over her head, and when Paul tugs it into place, it reveals her face, completely unabashed. "We're having a bonfire tonight, huh?" he asks.

"Am I ever going to have to go home with strangers again?" she asks innocently.

He opens his mouth to say something, but falters, finger stuck out in a stern point. "Ow," he says finally, vaguely impressed.

So yes, they're having a bonfire tonight.

"Come on, Chuck," Paul assures, throwing one arm over her shoulder and using the other to herd the children in front of them. "It will be fun."

It was fun.

God help her, it was fun.

Albeit, in the past few years, the bar for adult fun has been set so low that it's really only propped up on one side. Still, it was fun. Not that she'll ever admit that to Briggs.

She plans to keep that little tidbit tightly under wraps made of sarcasm and cracks at his parenting when he comes by that day, but it isn't Paul on the other side when she opens the door. The elusive DJ that she has heard so much about smiles politely and asks to be let in.

It's not that she's disappointed. It's just that she thought she was going to see Paul and now she isn't, and that makes her feel…odd.

Dale is polite but definitely not a suck up. Paige clearly adores him, and he's a high schooler who is older and cooler and drives, so her boys are obviously fascinated.

When Paige asks what's going to be for dinner when they get home, he falters and suggests cereal. So Charlie really has no choice but to make them stay and eat.

"Have you ever kissed someone?" Johnny asks suspiciously, swinging his legs under the table until they collide with their new guest's knees. Charlie winces. She teaches them manners. They aren't feral children, she swears.

Jakes nods without looking up from his homework. "Yes."

"Did you do a good job?"

"Yes…"

Mike is eyeing the older boy's calculus book with interest but seems to decide that it would be a little much for a kindergartener. "Can you drive?"

"Got here, didn't I?"

The boys look to her for confirmation, and Charlie nods, hiding a smile.

"Can you drive on the beach?" Johnny seems excited by the idea, and she doesn't want to know why. Whatever he has cooking in his head, she'd rather step in at the last second so she doesn't have to wait around for him to make a move.

"The ocean part," Mike clarifies.

Sighing, Dale gives up and puts his pencil down. "No. You would need a boat for that."

"Have you ever been in a fight?"

"Yeah."

"Did you win?"

"Yes."

Mike narrows his eyes. "Do you do drugs?"

"Only on Thursdays."

He glances out of the corner of his eye to see what Charlie thinks about what he told her sons, but she winks and pretends not to have heard it.

They clear the table for dinner, and when everything's served, Paige tugs at his arm and DJ leans down to hear her better.

"Are we going to see…?" She trails off, and Charlie tilts her head, wondering what has her so hesitant all of a sudden.

Avoiding her eyes, Jakes shakes his head and nods for Paige to take a bite of her carrots. "No, kid," he says softly. It doesn't help much, because the boys are eating instead of talking, so voices are carrying in the almost silent kitchen. "We're gonna stay away from there for a while."

Charlie purses her lips. What the hell is going on with this family?

On Thursday, Paul knocks and lets himself in to find three different corners occupied with a fidgeting kid and Charlie standing cross-armed in the middle of it all.

"What's she in for?" he asks, making himself comfortable on the couch.

"Fire escape shenanigans. All three of them," Charlie says darkly, clearly not over whatever said shenanigans entailed.

She sighs and drops down next to him, rubbing her temples. "I'm in the bathroom for three minutes and they launch a mission to give me a freakin' heart attack."

The microwave timer goes off and everyone jumps. "That's Mike's timer," Charlie warns. "You two stay put."

Once released from his time out, Mike shyly climbs up on the couch, as far away from Paul as he could possibly get without perching on the arm. Paul smiles gently at him, and nods towards the paper sticking out of his pocket. "What's that?"

"Picture," Mike mumbles. "Made it at school."

"Can I see?"

The crayon drawing is pretty indecipherable, but Paul can make out what seems to be badge and gun.

"Police officers?" he guesses. The second timer goes off, and he watches as Charlie crouches down next Paige, offering a hug that Paige gladly reciprocates.

Mike shakes his head furiously. "FBI," he says seriously.

Paul smiles. Irony, he guesses.

When he looks up again, Charlie is watching his strangely, like she wants to analyze how he reacts to the picture. What, does she think he's going to tell him it sucks?

Paige comes barreling towards him and Paul hoists her into his lap. "Hi, troublemaker. Did you serve hard time?"

She nods earnestly. "I had to stand there the whole time," she says, sounding stunned. "And I tried to leave, but Charlie made me go back!"

Charlie gives him a look that clearly says, really?

Paul shrugs. So discipline is a little lax at the Briggs household.

Shyly, Mike seems to pick up on Paige's awe and offers his picture as a consolation of sorts. "It's the FBI," he announces.

Paige startles and would have dropped it if Briggs didn't steady her hand so as to not hurt Mike's feelings. She looks at him, panicked, and Briggs remembers that she gets a little skittish when someone mentions something that hits too close to what he does for a living.

"It's okay," he confirms.

Beaming, Paige stuffs the drawing in her own pocket and leans over to kiss Mike's cheek.

Charlie catches his eye and smiles.

The kids are in a bad mood on the last day of this temporary arrangement, and it must be rubbing off on her because Charlie is feeling pretty sour herself.

"You'll see each other at school," she promises, ignoring the errant part of her mind that's pointing out that she and Paul probably won't see each other again.

Paul knocks, and when she opens the door, she tames her face into something that more closely resembles a smile than a smirk but isn't really either. He smiles back and hurries past her.

"Thanks again," he says distractedly. "I don't know what we would have done without you this week."

"Yeah, well…" She shrugs. "It wasn't so bad."

He explains that they have to leave quickly, that he has to be at work in half an hour for some sort of emergency.

A tae bo emergency? Something is still off. She should be glad to have the whole mess taken out of hands.

"Say 'bye'," Paul encourages, and Paige does. Charlie kisses her head before stepping back and looking at Briggs like she's not sure what she's supposed to do here.

Probably because she isn't.

Briggs nods. "See ya around."

This time, they only make it to the door before Charlie chases them down.

"So," she says, taking a deep breath. "We do this thing called Sauce Night…"