After caring for Milo for only a week, Cavendish and Dakota had begun to suspect that there was more to the child's circumstances than they could know.

First it was the lamp on the end table, but they really should have baby proofed that.

Then the hot water heater failed, and Dakota took to manually heating water for Milo's baby tub.

Then the stove burnt out.

Bits of drywall flat out fell from the ceiling, narrowly missing the unsuspecting little boy.

However, their suspicions had no real conclusion…until they saw the press conference.

The cameras focused on a Man that looked so much like their little baby Milo that Cavendish did an actual triple-take. His name was a man named Martin Murphy, and he was standing on a stage at a podium, absolutely surrounded with microphones.

"Hello," Mr. Murphy said, voice sounding strained, "I am here to ask for the -safe- return of my son Milo."

Cavendish and Dakota watched as Milo cooed at the screen, no doubt that the man on it was his father now…

"My only concern is that Milo is -safe- and I very much miss him. I pray that he is -safe- and that I will see him again soon. Safe and sound." Martin coughed roughly, "Milo has Extreme Hereditary Murphy's Law, and could be a -danger- so please hand him over to the authorities."

Cavendish turned the television set up as the cameras switched to focus on to someone else. Watching in disbelief as the woman who handed Milo to him took the center of the frame.

"I, like my husband- wish for Milo to be safe. Please."

It was said with the same undercurrent of desperation that Cavendish heard that fateful day. Something was rotten about this press conference… like the Murphy's were being forced by a third party.

Cavendish muted the television, but kept the closed captioning on as the news changed to a different news item.

Dakota turned to Cavendish, "So that explains the disasters the last few days," he marveled, "So the kids' name is Milo Murphy? Huh."

"None of this is sitting right with me, especially given how we came about being Milo's care takers." Cavendish wrung his hands, "and it's strange the continued emphasis on the word -safe-, that's what his mother asked me to do…keep him safe."

Dakota nodded as he picked up Milo and began to play with him, "Yeah, I'm with you on that Balthy. I'm thinking someone has Milo's family hostage — why I'm not sure, maybe something to do with this…hereditary Murphy's Law?"

Milo cooed at Dakota and wriggled in his arms. Dakota smiled and blew a raspberry into the boy's stomach. Milo giggled as Dakota started talking to him with his usual 'baby talk'.

"You miss your daddy don't you?" Dakota wondered aloud at the boy, "He wants you safe and sound, sounds like a good daddy."

Milo reached out a hand toward Dakota's face, "D-d-d-da da—Daddy!"

Dakota gasped dramatically, "Did you hear that Balthy?! He called me daddy!"

Cavendish looked over Dakota's shoulder at the giggling Milo, a soft smile on his face. "I think he was just parroting you Dakota. Though, the thought is cute."

Dakota rolled his eyes, "Awe. Don't you listen to Papa Cavendish, he's a real softie under all that British 'stiff upper lip' aren't you Papa Cavendish?"

Cavendish huffed good-naturedly, "I'm not sure how prudent it is to try teaching Milo to call us by parental monikers- now that we know he's definitely got a family."

"P-p-pa-pa. Papa!" Milo squealed cheerfully as he succeeded at copying Dakota.

Cavendish's heart nearly melted. As Milo had not been pointing at Dakota, but he had instead turned to look at him. Arms outstretched the way he did when he wished to be held.

Cavendish wordlessly took Milo from a cheering Dakota. As he settled Milo in his arms, one of Milo's hands gripped the left side of his mustache.

Milo's fascination with his mustache was endearing, in that he never tugged on it, rather he just held it in his little baby hands as if to admire how soft the hair was.

Cavendish blinked as a flash temporarily blinded him, Dakota had taken a photograph with an instant camera.

When the photo developed Dakota took the Polaroid and wrote something on the back.

"What are you doing?" Cavendish said, leaning in to read what Dakota was writing, only to have Dakota hold it up for him to read.

"Milo Dakota-Cavendish Murphy." Cavendish sighed, "I'm sure the boy already has a middle name Dakota."

Dakota shrugged, "yeah but we don't know what it is… plus while we're taking care of him it won't be safe to call him Milo Murphy… so I figured— Milo Cavendish-Dakota would serve in the meantime?"

"Milo Drowssap Cavendish-Dakota." Cavendish countered, "Because its common to give a grandmother's maiden name as a middle name."

Dakota blinked in surprise, and turned to Milo, "How does that sound to you kiddo?"

Milo made a pleased burbling noise at Dakota's sudden attention, "dada dada -daddy!"

"I think that's a yes," Dakota cheered, "The motion carries!"

Cavendish shook his head, "You act as if we're in a meeting."

"Moving on to item two on our agenda," Dakota said, much more seriously than before, "What— if anything— can we do to attempt to rescue his family?"

Cavendish blinked helplessly, "I- I am not sure. If we could only get in contact with the Bureau of Time Travel." Cavendish chuckled bitterly, "I never thought I'd be this desperate to hear Mr. Block yelling voice."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." Dakota shrugged, "I'm mostly wondering what we could possibly do?"

"I'm understandably wary of doing anything other than focusing on keeping Milo hidden and safe." Cavendish absent-mindedly started to rock Milo to sleep at the sound of a quiet yawn from the boy, "Obviously any action we could take to attempt to find—let alone rescue— them could draw undue attention upon ourselves."

Dakota sighed, "Yeah there is that." Dakota tapped his fingers idly across the table sitting between them. After a considerable pause Dakota again spoke up, "Well. It's high time we put Milo to bed— I'll check on the baby monitor to make sure it hasn't stopped working again."

Cavendish nodded as he observed a contentedly sleeping Milo, "Yes, a good nights rest is just the ticket." Cavendish stood and moved to follow Dakota to the crib in the corner of the room, "If anything…I'm sure we'll have a few ideas in the morning."

-End Chapter Two-