AN: This chapter, unlike the previous ones, comes right after the last one. Really, it's more of a chapter 3.5 than anything. Thanks you guys, for your kind words!

Fishing, the teenager reflected, was an overrated pass time. He slouched on the ancient wooden porch steps, which age and the elements had caused to warp slightly from their once pristine condition. The wood was rough-veined about the edges, smoothing out in front of the door and areas of high foot traffic. Jake leaned against the leftmost roof support, arms stretched at impossible angles as he fought the huge knot of line that he considered to be the most impressive result of half a day's labor on the rock-strewn shore of the fast-moving brook that wound through the thick-forested lands behind the house.

Certainly, it had been a productive day. His father had seemed quite satisfied with their catch, but the teenager was bored to tears with the tedium of waiting for his hook to snare something.. and then there was all the work of wresting his catch to land.. and then more work in cleaning it. All in all, fishing was not one of the teenage dog's favorite things to do.

Jake's sensitive ears perked, alerting him to the approach of two individuals and a well-worn little red wagon laden with goods. If not for the telltale squeaky left rear wheel, the magical dog would not have guessed that it was his mother and Finn returning. The human boy was typically loud and chatty enough to be heard from quite a distance away, and Jake's mother was nearly as talkative. And the way she doted on Finn... well, let's just say that their arrival should have been heralded by an ongoing verbal commotion of some sort.

A little concerned, the nineteen year old abandoned the length of hopelessly tangled line he was attempting to sort out, rising from the front porch to meet the returning party. Little Finn came into view first, looking unusually subdued. Behind him, Margaret towed the wagon of supplies, which bounced every time the wheels discovered a rock or depression in the old dirt road. Though Finn noted Jake's approach, his mother seemed to stare past him with a look of deep introspective concern.

"Hey Finn, you in trouble?" he called, a little surprised that the boy did not respond with the customary "A little bit" that had become like a catchphrase, or as Margaret was prone to use it, a second name for the child. Instead, Finn glanced fretfully back at Margaret, who apparently had only just noticed how close the duo was to home.

"Dude, you broke everything in the store, didn't you?" Jake grinned at the memory of his own first (and nearly last) trip to the store, earning a betrayed look from his small roommate. "I didn't do it!" the boy cried, throwing his hands in the air in an exaggerated expression of confusion. The dog snickered at the reaction. It wasn't nice, but Finn tended to be such a reactionary, it was hard not to want to provoke him. It was, honestly, Jake's favorite game.

"Jake? Where's your father?"

The teenager hooked a thumb back towards the house, making it grow into a large arrow-shaped signpost. "He's out back, cleaning up what we caught. We got some nice tires, and a few boots. I don't think we've got any that Finn will grow into for a while, though. You know-"

"Take everything inside, will you? And get Finn cleaned up, he's scraped his knees on our trip."

So saying, Margaret pressed the wagon handle into her son's free hand, striking out towards the family home with the determined pace of someone on an important mission. So intent was she, that she cut through her own flowerbeds of wild iris and pitcherflowers, something she had threatened the boys out of doing long ago.

"Finn, what did you do?" Jake demanded, confused and eager to get in on what he assumed to be very juicy gossip. The human child stomped his feet in agitation, kicking at a loose rock with a small, dirty, much-worn shoe.

"I said I didn't do it!" Finn complained, frustrated. "I was good! I was really good! I stayed! I ate pie! I didn't touch anything!"

"You ate pie?" Jake gasped, momentarily distracted. "You mean Tree Trunks was there?"

Sensing that he'd won some sort of prize over Jake, Finn nodded, standing a little straighter and brushing some leftover particles of pastry crust off of his shirt. Jake fumed momentarily, before remembering why he was cross-examining the boy to begin with.

"Wait a minute, if you did what Mom said, and didn't break anything? Then why are you in trouble?"

The three year old visibly deflated, the pie victory forgotten. "I don't know..."

"Joshua?"

"Back here, Love. Just cleaning up a bit."

Margaret found her husband studying a pile of apparent debris salvaged during the so-called fishing expedition. One particular tire seemed to capture his attention, and he eased it upright to facilitate the examination of the object. The dog noted the width and diameter of the tire, measured the tread depth, and carefully checked the condition of the material for breaks and flaws before straightening.

"I think we've got a winner here, Margaret," he commented, wiping down the wheel and pushing it over to the base of a sturdy tree with large, broad leaves. "This one's ripe for swinging, I can tell." He patted the item, thoroughly pleased with himself.

"Joshua, something... odd happened today at the store. Do you... have we ever told Finn he's not a dog?"

The gentleman dropped the tire on his foot in surprise. "Wha-YOW!" With a hearty shove, Joshua dislodged the offending unwieldy object. "What makes you think he believes he's a dog?" he asked, checking to make certain his toes were all still attached.

"Well, he did bark at a cat in front of the store today."

Joshua grinned, amused at the image his mind was conjuring up of Finn barking at some hapless feline. "So?"

Margaret crossed her arms, irritated that her dear husband wasn't taking the notion that their young guest had species identification issues seriously. "And he asked Tree Trunks what sort of dog she was. Dear, I think he believes everyone is some sort of dog."

"Hmm.. I see your point. Well, maybe I should have a talk with him. Maybe we haven't been quite clear enough with him. You know Love, perhaps it's time we let him out of the house more, broaden his horizons a bit."

The wife sighed, nodding in reluctant agreement. "I imagine that his parents wouldn't be too happy if we gave Finn back, thinking he was a dog."

Joshua didn't respond at first, glancing towards the tire he'd left under the sycamore tree. "Yes, I suppose you're right," he finally muttered, picking up a few loose lengths of rope he'd been evaluating before thinking to ask "Where is the 'little bit' of trouble, anyway?"

Margaret smiled at the awkwardly-presented endearment. "I sent him in with Jake to get cleaned up. He's had a big day, walking all the way to the store and back. He scraped up his knees a bit falling in the woods, but you know that he snapped right out of it? By the time we got to the store, he was running around like a hyperactive cannonball again."

Her husband exhaled heavily as he straightened up, fighting the urge to grin at the description.

"We ran into Tree Trunks, as I mentioned earlier, and she had some of her fresh apple pie on hand. You know dear, I think I know what Finn's new favorite food is. Maybe I'll make him one for his next birthday.."

"Margaret.."

"...Joshua?"

The couple locked gazes for a moment. Each fighting the urge to point out that the other was obviously making plans for the future that involved their young guest. After all Finn's next "birthday", or rather his next "brought home for a visit until his parents arrive" day, wasn't for almost a full year. And Jake, almost out of his teen years and highly creative with his elastic powers, obviously had no use for the tire swing that Joshua was planning.

They didn't need to say it, they both knew that they were thinking too far ahead.

"I thought.. maybe.. until his folks show up..."

"Y-yes... and if he's still here next year, maybe I'll.."

Margaret and Joshua both looked away, awkwardly. The husband reached out and took his wife's hand, patting it reassuringly. "It'll be alright, dear. One day at a time, you know." When she nodded, he leaned in to kiss her cheek. "I think I'd better go talk to Finn about what he really is."

He started to pull away, but Margaret held fast to his hand for a moment. "Joshua.. don't upset him. He knows he's not here forever, but we don't want him scared and confused about why."

"I know Love," he replied, heart tugging dully. "I know."

"Okay, so if you didn't break anything, and you didn't make Mom late... then what?"

"I already told you! I DON'T KNOW!" Finn fairly howled, tired of the repeated questioning. When the boy failed to admit to anything, Jake was forced to re-think the situation. Something was really bothering his mother, and that she'd go right to his father before disclosing what it was could only mean that it was something big.

If there was one thing Jake couldn't stand, it was being out of the loop. Nobody but nobody was supposed to be more in touch with the goings-on around the family home than him. There had to be some way to prod more information out of this kid.

Finn, freshly bandaged with supplies from the first aid kit under the kitchen sink, swung his legs as he sat on the citrus-colored countertop, salvaged in part from some long-ago fast food restaurant. The boy was tired and agitated, letting his heels hit the ill-fitting cabinet doors as a show of his annoyance. For all that, the dog noticed that the boy was careful to avoid hitting the glass-fronted doors in favor of the mis-matched wooden ones that had been painted to complement the bright counter.

Beneath the frustration Finn was exhibiting, Jake could see the telltale signs of the child's anxiety. His parents didn't seem to realize it, but every time that Finn got into some sort of mischief (as the boy invariably did), the small human seemed to become overly frightened.

The child was gently reminded from the time he'd learned to talk, that he was not really part of their family. Though Finn had never been threatened with the idea of being pushed out of the home, in fact the only suggestion that he might be made to leave was during speculation about his parents coming for him, the boy lived in fear of the notion. Where he'd come up with it was a mystery to Jake, and the boy had only whispered it to him once, in the stumbling language of a toddler. The dog wouldn't remember the incident except for times like these, when the boy stared off nervously into space and fidgeted as he waited for some reprimand to fall upon him. It was hard to reassure Finn, the dog reflected. The kid was a perpetual worrier about some things.

Annoyed at how somber the normally cheerful Finn was behaving and wanting some outlet for his frustration is not being in on whatever was going on, Jake playfully shoved the threadbare white hat backwards on the boy's head, reaching underneath to muss up his wild hair. That stupid thing... it was nearly too small, and it made the kid look completely silly. In fact, it was downright girlish. On top of that, it still harbored traces of that strange, alien smell that set Jake's nerves on edge. He just wanted to bury the thing in the deepest hole he could dig. Finn yelped in surprise at the attack before rallying, launching himself off of the counter top to wrestle with his best friend with a shout of challenge.

"Finn?"

The boys froze at Joshua's voice, and Jake noticed the startled look that filled Finn's eyes for a moment at the reminder that he was, somehow, in for a lecture. To Jake's amazement, his father walked over and gently pulled the human boy off of him rather than complain about the two of them roughhousing indoors. "Finn, I need to talk to you for a minute."

"Dad, what's he in trouble for? He swears he didn't do anything!" Jake interrupted, feeling compelled to try and defend the boy against whatever unwitting wrong he'd committed, and increasingly desperate to find out what on Ooo the child could possibly have done. Margaret chose that moment to push open the back door, a small bunch of orange wildflowers for the dining room table clutched in her hand. She side-stepped the boys' conversation, intent on finding a receptacle for her flora.

"Trouble? He's not in trouble, Jake. Your mother says she talked to Tree Trunks today, and she seemed a bit... confused by something Finn said." Joshua sat the three year old back on his feet, turning to look at his son in surprise.

"Tree Trunks is confused? That's it?" It wasn't often that Jake let himself get carried away over something trivial, but this was just ridiculous. All this time worrying and trying to figure out what had set his mother off... and it was just an idle comment from an old lady elephant? He'd been trying to come up with some way to console this kid who refused to ever be completely comforted about some things... and for what? He noticed his mother, flowers still in hand, pause in sorting through the glassware to shoot him a disapproving look for his tone. Well.. Tree Trunks was old. It wasn't as though it was unusual for her to be confused by something.

Frustrated and still wound up with energy from their brief play-fight, Jake stalked over to the boy, crossing his arms and looking thoroughly put out. "Finn, let's clear this up right now. You. Are. A. Boy. Maybe if you didn't wear that girly baby hat, people would know!" So saying, the young dog reached snatch the boy's hat from where it had been knocked askew on his head, intending to hold it hostage for some price as yet to be named. A new round of "Annoy the Boy" would go a long way toward putting him in a better mood. Finn immediately yelped in protest, flailing for the only link he had with his long-lost kin.

There was an ominous ripping sound, and all movement in the kitchen immediately stopped. Margaret's hand flew to her mouth, stifling the sharp yelp of surprise that threatened to leap from her mouth at the sight before her.

A jagged tear separated the two halves of the white hat; half in Finn's hands, half in Jake's. The magical dog gaped at the damage for a moment, unable to vocalize his regret over letting his irritation and the game get out of hand. Finn grabbed the damaged head wear back from his best friend, running for the door. The boy paused at the portal, and Jake braced himself to hear the little human say something like "I'll never forgive you" or "I hate you!", but Finn was silent. The look on his face hurt the young dog more than any words could have, though.

With a glare of betrayal and hurt thrown back at Jake, Finn raced from the house. Joshua pointed at his son, then the floor, indicating for him to stay put, before darting out after the human. Finally finding his voice, Jake shouted after them both.

"Finn! Finn, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to..."

His mother, arms crossed and the look on her face that meant a serious trip down guilt lane was coming, moved to stand between him and the door. "Jake! What were you thinking?"

"I just.. I... I don't know.." Jake finally admitted, slumping a bit and hanging his head. With a sigh, Margaret walked over to her son and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Jake, you may not have meant it, but now it's done. What do you plan to do about it?" The teenager looked up at his mother, the melody of a song about empathy that she'd taught him as a pup playing in his head.

"I'm open to suggestions, Mom."

"Finn! Finn, stop before I keel over!"

The boy stumbled to a stop just inside the treeline that marked the edge of the family yard, sitting down facing away from the house and hugging his knees to his chest. Joshua trailed behind, out of breath from the short sprint across the yard. He paused, noting that Finn had stopped running, and took the opportunity to catch his breath. Ah yes, there was the old smoking damage, coming out to play again, he thought with a wheeze.

Collecting himself, he stepped into the edge of the forest, purposely walking past the huddled form of Finn, who looked up in surprise that he'd been bypassed. The blond boy rose slowly to his feet, trailing after Joshua as though unsure if he was supposed to or not. Pleased that Finn had followed along so easily, the dog didn't speak until they were out of sight of the house, and well on their way to the stream down the sun-dappled path.

"Finn, Jake didn't mean to tear your hat. You know that, right?"

There was a long pause before the boy responded. "Yeah.."

"I'm not saying that what he did was okay, but Jake's at a difficult age, and it gets to him in weird ways sometimes. Sometimes it makes him act like a... well, like a-"

"A huge fart?"

Joshua couldn't help but laugh out loud at the description. For it's crudeness and simplicity, it was still very, very apt.

"Yes, he does act like a huge fart sometimes, doesn't he? But you know, he doesn't mean anything by it. He's about to be an adult, and he doesn't know how to be one yet. Between you and me, I think it scares him a little. So he's still flailing around acting like an overgrown pup and driving us all to distraction."

The dog clasped his hands behind his back as he traced the meandering trail through the forest that led to the stream. He could hear the sound of the fresh water tumbling over the loose stones of the riverbed, and just that alone eased his mind. He risked a look behind him and noted that Finn was easing up beside him instead of following at a distance. The damaged remains of his white hat were still clasped in the child's small hands.

"Finn, Jake will grow out of this phase of his, and hopefully it's going to be soon. In fact, it had better be soon or I'm probably going to lose my marbles. You may be a little young to understand this, Finn, but becoming an adult is a very stressful time. You have to take stock of who you are, what you are, and what you want to be. It sounds simple enough, but it's really one of the hardest things that any of us ever have to do."

Joshua reached over and clasped a hand on the boy's shoulder, guiding him along the rough-hewn trail with the expertise of someone who knew the territory well enough to walk it blindfolded. Finn looked up at him, expression unreadable, but clearly thoughtful. "Finn," the elder began again, as the two of them rounded the final curve before the narrow trail opened up to the riverbed, which sparkled and gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight. "you know that we're different, don't you?"

The boy blinked, unresponsive for a moment. "I.. guess so?" Finn reached down and picked up a flat, smooth stone before throwing it into the slow-moving, sunlight-stained water, disrupting their reflections. "We're all different, aren't we, Sir?"

"Some of us more than others," Joshua agreed, patting the child on the back before picking up a small rock of his own. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it skimming lightly over the surface of the water. Finn watched this with an expression of awe on his young face, quickly reaching for a new pebble to try and replicate the feat.

"Finn, this world is full of fascinating creatures, all different. You saw a lot of different people today at the store, didn't you?"

The boy nodded, tossing his stone towards the river with purpose. It bounced off of a group of thick reeds growing along the shore before it sank with a splash into the depths of the stream, only a few orange-gold gem-like drops of water betraying where it had punctured the surface before they too vanished back where they'd come from. "I met Tree Trunks, she's a different kind of dog, isn't she?" The youngster's face contorted for a moment. "Real different," he added, after a moment of contemplation.

"Margaret, Jake and I are dogs," Joshua continued, reaching to guide Finn's hand as the child attempted again to skip a stone across the river's surface. "Tree Trunks is a little elephant. She's not a dog at all." This time, the rock bounced once off the water before vanishing. He pulled the boy closer to the edge of the water, pointing at their wavering reflections. "You're going to be growing up very soon, Finn. And it's important that you know that you're not like us. You're not a dog. You, my boy, are a human."

Finn's brow furrowed with confusion. He of course knew that he wasn't quite like the family that had taken him in, but now, in the absence of his familiar head wear, the differences seemed more pronounced, somehow. "What's a who-man?" he finally asked, getting a shrug of helplessness in return. "To be honest, I really don't know much about them. But you're teaching us all a little more about them every day," Joshua responded with a grin. Idly, he picked up a section of a thick reed that had been broken by the little one's earlier toss, inspecting it as his companion considered his words.

The boy straightened, clasping his hands behind his head. "Is it a good thing?" he finally asked, this time getting a fond chuckle from the older dog. "So far? It most assuredly is. Let's head back home." As the duo retraced their steps through the thick forest in the fading late afternoon light, Finn still seemed contemplative. "Am I still the same? If I'm a who-man?"

"A human, you mean? Why wouldn't you be?"

Finn jumped over a thick tree root that he noticed growing alongside the trail, giving the elder a worried look. "I dunno.. maybe hu-mans are bad?" The child carefully enunciated the alien word, clearly not sure what to make of it.

"You're not bad, are you?" Joshua retorted, fighting the urge to chuckle at the way Finn wildly shook his head no. "Very well then, even if some humans may be bad, all of them can't be. And you're proof of that." The gentleman paused for a moment, plucking the leaves off of the reed he'd picked up at the water's edge. "Even if most humans were bad, it's like this reed. It's just a weed down by the river, but did you know that if we put some holes in it, it becomes a flute? Being born as one thing doesn't mean you can't become something else. You're a very good boy, Finn. We're all proud of you."

The boy grinned, though the smile fell from his face momentarily as they emerged back into the yard behind the family home. Jake, eyes wet and contrite as Joshua had ever seen him, stood there alone, anxiously awaiting their return. Both the older dog and the human boy were surprised when the teen suddenly ran forward to hug the child.

"Dude, I'm really really really sorry. I never, never wanted to hurt you or mess up your stuff. I mean it. Mom's gonna try and fix your hat, but she thinks it might be a little too fragile for you to keep wearing." The little human's expression shifted rapidly from hopeful to anxious. Before the boy could comment, Jake pressed onwards. "So, if it's cool with you, Mom's going to teach me how to sew. And I'll make you a new, super awesome hat, if that's okay."

Jake released Finn, who was staring at him as though he'd never seen the dog before. "So... is that cool? I mean, I'll understand if you're still mad at me.. " The magical dog toed the ground, unhappily.

Finn reached out and hugged his best friend, shaking his head. "Don't cry, Jaker," the small figure admonished. "It's okay." Jake swiped halfheartedly at his face with one arm. "I'm not crying, I just got something in my eye, that's all!"

Joshua sighed, crossing his arms. "You're a horrible liar, Jake."

"That's because he's a big fart guy," the human boy responded, knowledgeably. "But he'll grow out of it."