Chapter 14

"Are you sure you're ok?"

Tum-Tum blinked against the sunlight as he turned back towards Colt. "Yeah," he replied with a nod and a shrug, continuing his pace towards the school. "Why?"

"Oh, I don't know." Slamming the door shut to the driver's side of his truck, Colt stepped up to the truck bed. He set his arms on the side, putting his chin to his hands. "Maybe because we're at school, and you don't have your backpack."

Tum-Tum immediately started slapping at his shoulders. He spun in a circle and upon not finding his back empty, a frown of confusion came to his face. Colt rolled his eyes, watching his brother. "I had it," he said, scratching the back of his head. He made a face. "I know I had it in the house."

"You have it here, too, spaz." Colt reached into the truck bed and lifted Tum-Tum's backpack out of it. "Just not in its usual place."

"Oh." Frown deepening, Tum-Tum stepped up onto the wheel on the opposite side of the truck bed and reached over the gap to grab his backpack. "Thanks." He then managed a teasing smile. "Not like I lost it while it was on my back."

Colt rolled his eyes and let out a weak, "Mmhmm." Retrieving his soccer bag, he pulled the strap over his shoulder and checked to make sure the doors to his truck were locked. The weight of his bags unbalanced him with each turn before he shifted it back around his shoulder. "Let me know what you're doing after school ok? Staying with me, going home with mom or Rock, or whatever."

"Yeah, no problem," Tum-Tum said with a yawn.

"When does wrestling start for you, again?"

"After Homecoming," Tum-Tum replied. He twisted his mouth to the side. "The team is announced at the Pep Rally. Try outs are coming up." He started biting down on his lower lip. "And then we have team pictures."

"Oh yeah, we should be getting uniforms soon," Colt said more to himself. "Is that what's bothering you? You don't think you'll make the team?" Tum-Tum didn't immediately answer, and Colt let out a huff of annoyance. Why couldn't everyone just say what was on their mind? Sure, he occasionally had people reminding him that his delivery could be better, but things were just easier when he everything was out in the open. He put his arm around Tum-Tum's shoulder, gently shaking him. "Come on, Tum. What's going on?"

"I've seen you and Rock agonize over asking people to Homecoming," Tum-Tum said. "I don't know how to ask Amy."

Colt blinked, taken aback for a moment at the sudden change in topic. Then, he made a face at the insinuation. "Rock and I didn't agonize over anything," Colt said. "Just ask a girl and take her. The only issue Rock had was trying to dodge all the hints Emily gave him about wanting to go with him." He snorted. "I mean, I knew the guy was flexible, but jeez. He was really getting a work out with that."

Tum-Tum laughed. "So, I just ask?"

"It won't hurt," Colt said with a shrug. "You two have been in the same class for years." He lifted a finger in the air. "Just don't make it too flashy; puts too much pressure on the girl. And don't do it over social media; that's too impersonal." Tum-Tum started frowning again, muttering something about, "too many rules." Colt chuckled. "When did you start liking her, anyway?"

Making a face, Tum-Tum wiggled out from underneath Colt's grip, face turning red. Colt smiled to himself. One minute, Tum-Tum could be asking him what emojis in certain order meant from a girl, but the next second, he didn't want to talk about it. Not that Colt could really blame him. They barely ever talk to their parents about which girls they like, let alone with each other.

Teasing was easier, almost a natural reaction, and it kept the conversation light. Even the embarrassment of flying over the handle bars of his own bike had made Colt asking Rocky about Jo that much easier, in an instant-karma kind of way. It took his attention away from worrying about what his brother's answer could have been. (Rocky had said he didn't really like Jo in that way at the time, but even he could be hard to read at times.) Colt wasn't exactly lacking in the girl department – his mom always told him that girls had their eyes on him – it was just that for a long while he wasn't at the stage of looking back.

He and Amy had always been in the same class and she had come over to their house for play dates numerous times as they grew up. Then, like most boys, Tum-Tum fell into wanting to hang out with his guy friends, and explore the neighborhood, and play video games. Her name didn't come up that often anymore unless she was around for whatever anecdote he had about school involved her. Recently though, it was clear, that Tum-Tum's view on girls was changing. Now Tum-Tum was seeming to get it, despite everything he had teased his brothers about.

Colt had gone through the same thing. And he hated seeing the smug smile on Rocky's face when he was proven right. How often had he heard Rocky mysteriously say, "You'll change your tune one day," whenever the topic of girls came up?

"I don't know," Tum-Tum finally mumble-replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I just do." He gripped the straps to his backpack, looking around the parking lot and front lawn of the school. "She's really nice. And she likes video games."

"A girl after your own heart," Colt laughed. "You're a very simple man, aren't you?" He laughed harder when Tum-Tum made a face and shoved Colt away from him. He put his hands up defensively. "Relax. I'm kidding."

"The guys in my class keep talking about how I have to make a big show about asking someone to the dance," Tum-Tum said.

"Oh, right," Colt said, a hand flying up to slap himself on the forehead. "Hocosals. How'd I forget about that?" He quickly spun to the side, dodging hitting Tum-Tum, who suddenly stopped walking, with his bag.

"Hoco…"

"Hocosal," Colt said with a roll of his eyes. "Homecoming proposal. That's what you're talking about." He lifted his hands into the air and drew a square in front of him. "Guys that make signs and big displays and stuff to ask girls to Homecoming or Prom. That kind of thing. I never saw the point in it."

"Yeah, well," Tum-Tum kicked at the ground, starting to walk again, "you never had a date to the dance so…"

"I don't dance," Colt protested with a groan.

Enough girls had asked him to school dances over the years, and he was flattered to be thought about enough to be asked. But, unless he was seeing someone at the time, he didn't ever really accept an invitation to the dance. Sure, he'd attend, if not for a while, but he wasn't much of a dancer. It was a nice night away from the house to spend with friends, though.

Rocky would typically head to Jason's afterwards for what would be a great after-party. Through Rocky, Colt usually had a standing invite to Jason's parties. Though they were intended to be for his grade-level only (and Colt was sure Rocky got great pleasure out of reminding him it was "Seniors-Only"), they usually tended to become "open to the public" after a while. Either way, everyone knew that Jasons's parties always meant a good time was to be had.

"You really think that's going to stop anyone from asking you to Homecoming?" Brett asked, shuffling up to the two of them. He was also laden down with bags; his backpack, his laptop case, and his soccer bag. Colt just shrugged in response to Brett's question. Brett then turned his attention to Tum-Tum. "If you're that worried, I might have a way to help you out."

"How?" Tum-Tum asked.

Brett lifted his hand to push up his glasses before using his thumb and pinky to indicate between Colt and Tum-Tum. "Ok, you guys can't tell anyone else, this, ok?" he said. "It'll be announced soon, but still." Colt nodded and Tum-Tum's eyes lit up as he nodded vigorously.

"Tum, you're terrible at keeping secrets," Colt pointed out.

"No, I'm not," Tum-Tum protested. Colt pressed his lips together, lifting an eyebrow. "I just get excited, that's all."

"What is it, B?" Colt asked with a shake of his head in response to his brother's declaration.

"I've been helping the school create a matching app for the Homecoming dance," Brett replied. "You just fill out a quiz, and later get matched with the top five people that match your answers closest. Then you can pick if you want to take any of them to the dance. Or you can just take the quiz for fun."

"So…." A smile slowly spread across Colt's face and he slapped Brett on the shoulder, "B here could match you up with Amy." He wiggled his fingers in the air. "Hack the code or whatever to make sure you get certain results."

"I could," Brett agreed, slowly nodding, "but I'm not going to."

"Oh, come on, it could be fun," Colt said with a grin. "People would be freaking out over who they'd get matched with. The girls would, anyway, I guess." He pulled his lips to the side. "I don't get girls."

"Jo, Amanda, Maggie, Roxanne, Shelby, Emma," Brett said counting off on his fingers. "You don't have a problem getting girls."

"Funny." Colt made a face, letting out a sigh through his nose. There was nothing wrong with seeing different girls to see if he had any sort of connection with them. It wasn't like he dated them all at one time. He was upfront about whether he felt things were working out and let the girls down gently. And, jeeze, for a while it seemed like Rocky had a new girlfriend every summer. Why was it ok for him but such a big deal when it came to Colt? "Besides, I didn't date Amanda. She just liked me."

"Someone had to when you went through that terrible mullet-ponytail phase," Brett said with a smirk. Tum-Tum tilted his head back and howled with laughter.

"Don't remind me," Colt said, putting a hand to his face. "Please. Please, don't." He didn't know why he thought that was such a good idea. It did keep him cooler in the summer compared to the bowl cut style he stuck with for a while. And it was a cooler hairstyle than the near shoulder length locs he was working now. But that dang ponytail kept hitting him in the eye and the side of the face every time he turned. Man, it took ages for his hair to grow back after he cut it off.

"Oh, I've got pictures," Brett said with a grin. He adjusted the bags on his shoulders, "And I'm not getting rid of them any time soon."

Pictures.

Colt's steps slowed.

Rocky can't be staying home just to look at pictures, he thought to himself, because then he would have had to tell mom he was planning on staying home first period. Like he had said flat out, Rocky had never skipped school, even when he had the senior privilege to use a first period block of free time to do so. So, he doesn't want mom to know. And if mom didn't know, he quickly concluded, then their dad didn't know either.

And why wouldn't he want dad to know? That was an easier answer: their father's office always had been and always would be off limits without permission. Everyone knew that if they could see Sam's shadow pacing back and forth in front of the light under the door, he was not to be disturbed under any circumstances.

Still, only work-related things were in his office. Apart from the occasional university memorabilia, awards from work, and framed photos of the family - some photos Colt wished would never see the light of day - it was otherwise strictly just a workspace. After how easy it was for them to gain access to Snyder's file, or at least partial file, he had gotten a reprimand at work. At least, Colt had pieced that together in a quick pass by the kitchen late one night shortly after their kidnapping. It was not a conversation to listen in on, that was for sure.

Still, his mind went back to the pictures. He still couldn't believe he had been in his grandpa's cabin for so many years, and never noticed that stupid hand in the background of that stupid picture. Wetting his lips with his tongue, Colt lifted his hands and pushed his fingers into his hair, scratching at his hairline. They had just gone through more pictures, and all he was focused on his parents' lives before he was born. He had a second chance to get a look into his parents' lives, and a second chance to blow it as the case may have been.

Still, what was it that Rocky thought he could find at home?

"Come on, dude, I wouldn't actually do that to you," Brett said in response to Colt's silence. "Not without a lot of thought, anyway."

"Ha." Colt snapped out of his thoughts. "Just remember who it was that covered for you when you nearly burnt your house down with those sparklers."

Brett swung out his hand, catching Colt in the chest with the back of his hand. He then jabbed his friend in the chest. "Last I checked, it was your idea to try and take our parkouring to the next level. A burning ring of fire usually livens things up, right?"

"You didn't have to listen to me," Colt protested, albeit with a grin.

"Yes, I did." Colt already knew Brett's response before he even said it. It was always the same. Despite all of Colt's outbursts, or what anyone else would just consider nonsense, Brett always stuck around. He not only had a lot of patience regarding Colt's affinity for acting or speaking without thinking, but he always seemed ready to get in trouble alongside him, even after his attempts to talk Colt down and to explain why he was in the wrong. "You think you would've been able to talk your way out of that without some back up?" His eyes then flashed mischievously behind his glasses. "Besides, we wouldn't have gotten caught if I had done a better job of cleaning the smoke damage off the side of the house."

"Or if we didn't find the charcoal fluid in the first place," Colt said, scratching the back of his head. Brett scoffed in agreement. "I don't know how we thought your parents wouldn't notice a giant bleach spot on the side of your house."

"Yeah, well, one of us has never been much of a forward thinker," Brett said, shoving Colt on the shoulder. "Or a thinker at all."

"Ok, ok." Colt put his hands up defensively. "There are a lot of situations I should have thought through more, I'll admit." Like telling dad about Snyder in the first place. He could only use the excuse that he was a kid for so long, he supposed. He and Rocky had planned on telling their dad that next morning, but he had gone off to work. And then Colt found that their dad was threatening to stop their ninja training, and it just left his mind. Plus, there was no way he would have ever had any reason to think those three buffoons that broke into his house that night would have anything to do with Hugo Snyder. Snyder was a genius compared to them.

Growling under his breath, Colt shook his head back and forth in a sharp gesture. That man was infiltrating his life way too often lately. Snyder was behind bars for crying out loud. Nothing was going on. The failed martial arts business, whatever hang ups he had with his parents, that was all in the past. All he ever had to do was talk about the guy during therapy and then he could pretend like the guy never existed for the rest of his life.

Can you really do that? Colt reasoned with himself. Can you really do that knowing that he's been a bigger part of your family's life than you thought? And it sounded like he may have something to do with the new kids, too. And who was he to sit by and let things happen? Hell, he barely knew Jo, or Miyo before he found himself in the middle of a situation, looking back on, they got way in over their heads in without a second thought. Why should the new kids be any different?

Not that it mattered to anyone else. To them, he was one of the 3 Ninjas. Some kids in school over the years had sought him and his brothers out to try and help them fix a problem they were in. And how many people had he defended from Darren and Darryl without a second thought? He may as well have the word "trouble" tattooed somewhere on his body, it was bound to come around sooner or later.

"Dude." Brett grabbed his arm and Colt gazed at him curiously before following the tilt of his friend's head. Gazing across the front lawn of the school, Colt's eyes landed on a very tense Tum-Tum; muscles taught, hands clenched, lips pressed tightly together, face turning a bright red as he shouted something to the backs of Darren and Darryl.

"Man, what now?" Colt asked. Pulling his arm from Brett's grasp, he shifted the straps to his bags up his shoulder and doubled his pace across the school yard. Brett rushed after him.

"Hey!" Tum-Tum shouted at Darren and Darryl's backs. "I said pick up her books."

Darren made a show of swinging around to face Tum-Tum, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. He peered down his nose at Tum-Tum and Amy. "Naw, I'm good." he replied.

"It's fine," Amy said, tucking her hair back behind her ear before reaching for her nearest book. Tum-Tum threw out his arm, stopping her, eyes transfixed on Darren and Darryl.

"I said pick them up," Tum-Tum repeated quietly. "You made her drop them, you pick them up."

"Oh, you see I would," Darryl said, stepping forward, miming innocence, "but I don't want to." He started kicking the binders and textbooks across the ground. "Look at that, they're just so slippery—" Tum-Tum rushed forward, slamming his hands into Darryl's chest shoving him backwards. Darren jumped forward, grabbing Tum-Tum in a headlock.

"Hey." Colt dropped his bags to the ground and moved towards his brother, but for a second time, Brett grabbed his arm. "What…?"

"Let him handle it," Brett said, his eyes trained on Tum-Tum. He then looked over at Colt. "He can handle this. You'll only make it worse." Colt scoffed. Brett tightened his grip on Colt's elbow. "Give him a chance, Colt." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Tum-Tum quickly slipped out from Darryl's grip and twisted his arm behind his back, using his other hand to force his head down towards the ground. "See?"

"Pick up her damn books," Tum-Tum shouted in Darren's ear. "Now!" He shoved Darren forward and he stumbled forward a few steps before he caught his balance. He lifted an eyebrow in Darryl's direction. "You, too. Pick them up."

"Pick them up yourself," Darryl replied, "dweeb." He tried to put as much bravado into his voice, but still his dark skin flushed a bright red. Whether it was through embarrassment or anger, Colt wasn't entirely sure. Still, he stepped forward and shoved Tum-Tum hard in the chest. He stumbled backwards, nearly losing his balance, but Patrick and Noah stepped out of the growing circle of spectators to catch him, and to stop him from charging at the two bullies again.

The group of students quickly dispersed, recognizing that there wasn't going to be much of a fight. Darren and Darryl left without another word. Tum-Tum muttered under his breath, adjusting his shirt.

"I got it," Noah said to Amy, moving to pick up the scattered books. "Don't worry about it."

"Thanks," Amy said, taking her books from him. Cradling them against her chest, she put one hand to his shoulder. "And thank you, Tum-Tum. You didn't have to do that, but I appreciate it."

"Those jerks can't just push around anyone they want," Tum-Tum protested. "You didn't do anything to deserve that." He then looked over at Amy and his expression instantly softened. "I can walk you to class if you want. Not that you can't handle it or anything."

"See?" Brett said to Colt. "He's got it covered."

"I wouldn't have done anything different," Colt protested, bending to pick up his dropped bags. He swung his hair out of his face, gazing up at his best friend. "How would I have made it worse?"

"Because you wouldn't have given Tum even an iota of a chance to handle things himself," Brett replied. Colt snorted, pulling his mouth to the side. "Come on, dude. You and Rock have been doing everything for Tum for as long as I can remember." He shrugged his shoulders. "You hate it whenever Rocky doesn't give you a chance to handle things on your own. Tum's bound to feel the same way at times."

Colt let out a weak "whatever," in response. Brett was right. As usual. He hated it whenever Rocky acted like he was his boss, or even worse, like grandpa. But Tum never had the same amount of pressure put on him that Colt had experienced all his life. He wasn't constantly being compared to Rocky. Being told that it would be better if he acted like his older brother and was more responsible and focused on his studies. But wasn't keeping his baby brother out of fights the responsible thing to do?

"Yeah, well," Colt said, "he's just shown he can take care of himself."

"I've never seen him like that before, though," Brett commented. "Tum's never raised his voice at anyone. Ever." He lifted his eyebrows. "Heck, it was almost like watching you handle the situation."

"True." Colt slowly nodded. Tum-Tum could get annoyed or frustrated, but even Colt had never seen Tum-Tum actually angry before. And he wondered what it was that suddenly had his fuse so short. Colt let out a low whistle. "Darren and Darryl just got lucky. Tum could bend them into a pretzel before they know what's happening." He made a face, shaking his head. "I would know." He still couldn't believe Tum-Tum had even beat him play fighting the other evening.

"If Tum can beat you once, don't you think it's proof he can handle himself?" Brett asked. "And he's never backed down whenever Darren and Darryl sought you out for a fight. Remember, before Miyo handed their asses to them, he volunteered himself to fight Darren."

"You know Darren and Darryl as well as I do," Colt said. "Once they target someone, they won't let up on them. Pushing Amy's books out of her arms is small potatoes compared to what they could do."

"And maybe that's all they'll do." Brett shrugged. "The school year has barely started. They've got the rest of the year to be jerks. Don't seek out a fight with them this early We've got bigger things to worry about then the two of them."

"Like what?" Colt asked.

"The PSATs for one thing," Brett replied as they started making their way towards their lockers. "We need to start preparing now. They're coming up real soon."

"You mean the Piss-SATs?" Colt asked with a grin, lifting an eyebrow.

"Cute," Brett said, clapping Colt on the shoulder. "It's that kind of attitude that'll have you pass with flying colors. Just remember, you can't use your phone's calculator." He wagged his finger in Colt's face. "You have to use a real one just like the rest of us."

"Ah, but not all of us can be a human calculator like you." Colt waved his hand in the air, batting the thought away. "You read questions and fill in the bubble to answer the question," Colt said. "What's so hard about that?"

"Just you wait," Brett said, making his way further down the locker bay to his own locker. "Next year is going to run you into the ground."

Colt merely hummed. He had this argument with his brother, and his dad, one too many times. There wasn't anything they could tell them he hadn't already heard a million times already: extra-curriculars were good padding for college applications; something that showed leadership would be a good boost; good grades and test scored would allow Admissions a reason to take a second look at your application; and blah, blah, blah.

People just put too much pressure on themselves to be the best at everything. Not that Colt wasn't the same way to some degree. He, clearly, was the better ninja out of himself and his brothers. And he was one of the better players on his soccer team. Anyone looking at him could tell he pushed himself to be at the level his dad wanted him to be on the baseball field. Yes, he was confident whenever and wherever he felt he could be, and yes, it sucked to fail at things you worked hard at.

But no matter what, he will always be Samuel Douglas's little brother. He wasn't going to be regarded as intelligent as his brother. Or as dependable. Or the model student type. The type who could do no wrong. The type that everyone turned to the second someone needed to oversee a situation. To be the leader. To make sure everything turned out smoothly.

It was funny in a way. Everyone always talked highly about his brother, and Colt had witnessed him, on numerous occasions, become just as temperamental as him. If not more. Rocky could even rival their father with his anger. Whenever he got frustrated enough. During one of his games. God forbid his pitching streak gets broken by one skilled player, or he re-injures his shoulder trying to show off. One turn-over in possession on the basketball court and Colt could feel his brother's anger roll off him in waves from the bleachers.

But, no, it was always about how Colt couldn't control his own anger. How everything he did was wrong.

"The only good thing is that the PSAT means 3 hours free of other classes," Colt said, swinging his locker door open, shoving his bags inside.

"With all the free time they put into your schedule, you may as well skive off the rest of the day," Riley said as she and Rhuben stepped up to their lockers between the two boys.

"Why do they even make us go to class the rest of the day, anyway?" Rhuben asked.

"Skipping sounds like a plan to me," Colt commented.

"I hope you realize the second you said that," Brett called from his locker, "you pretty much sealed your fate."

Riley laughed, a brief smile coming to her lips. "Our mum would be right behind him," she said, popping open her locker door.

"Hell, she probably already knows about it," Rhuben commented, leaning against her own locker. "She's scary with how quickly she finds things out." Riley nodded in agreement.

"Speaking of," Colt said, using his hand to slam his locker door shut. He glanced over the twin girls' heads towards Brett who was looking through his planner to figure out what books he needed for which classes. He lowered his voice. "Did you ask your dad about Snyder?"

"We did," Riley replied with a nod.

"And?" Colt pressed.

"Not much to tell," Rhuben replied with a one-shoulder shrug. "Just that we moved out here because of his job, and he may have had his work stolen."

Colt's eyes narrowed slightly. "I thought you moved here because of the trouble you got into back home," he said.

"Reckon you would know all about that, wouldn't you?" Riley said, looking him up and down. Colt shifted his weight from foot to foot. "You wanted us to ask, we asked."

"Yeah, I guess," Colt agreed. "Thanks."

"No worries." Rhuben waved her hand in the air. She then turned towards Riley and said. "I got to go, or I'll be late for concert band."

"Cool." Riley waved her hand. "See you later, then."

Colt's eyebrows shot up. "You're in band?" he asked.

Rhuben blinked. "You got a problem with that?" she asked, pulling her eyebrows towards each other.

"Just asking," Colt replied.

"First about our dad, now our hobbies," Riley commented, tilting her head to the side. "You're following the script of getting to know the new kids, mate, but I didn't really peg you as the type to care." She chuckled. "I mean, you practically ran out of my house the other night, first chance you got. Not that I blame you. Forcing people to get to know the new neighbors isn't my idea of fun, either."

"No, but winning a skateboard bet is fun," Colt said.

Riley's lips parted into a hint of a smile before she brushed a pigtail over her shoulder. "Still. You want to know all about my family, my parents' jobs, about my life back in Oz - most people here do, comes with the bloody territory of being new – but this 'getting to know you' thing is a two-way street. And, I reckon you haven't stopped to try and figure out the most important thing about me." Her smile widened, and her tone suddenly took on a layer of sweetness. One that only slightly hid the pointedness of her annoyance. "Like my name – which one I am."

"Uhhh." Colt blinked. Stalling. She was right, he didn't know which one he was talking to. And in that moment, didn't really care, either. He pulled his mouth to the side. It wasn't fair to her. How often did he have to field the "You're Sam's little brother, right?" questions all with a smile. Not to mention how many people talked to him just to try and get out of him details about his adventures taking down big businessmen. "You're uh…"

"That's what I thought." Riley moved to step past him. "See you in class." She turned around to face him, walking backwards. "I'm Riley, by the way. Reckon I should make some of this easy for you."

Colt let out a laugh. If there was something he had quickly learned, it wasn't that life wasn't fair, it was that his life wasn't easy.

"Sam."

Sam set down the framed photo and looked over at Jerry. "Sorry," he said, turning his chair to face his partner, "what were you saying? How can I help?"

Jerry's eyebrows came towards each other and he lifted a hand to run it over his mustache and beard. He then cracked a smile. "I was saying I remember when I had to sit across from your face every day," he said, "and now I have to visit you in an office."

Chuckling, Sam looked around his office, and then back at Jerry. "Surely it's a nice break from seeing my face every day," he replied.

"You deserve it, Sam," Jerry said. "You deserve all of this." He tapped his fingers on the arm rests of the chair he sat in across from Sam's desk. "Mitch has been worrying about you. "Are you sure you can do this?" Jerry asked. "Keep tabs on Snyder?"

Sam settled back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. Of course. His boss would send his partner to speak with him before taking on the task himself. "What does that mean?"

"I mean, we have a lot of different cases we're working on right now," Jerry replied. "Snyder's case is done. You may not see it that way, but it is."

Sam blinked. "You think my bias towards him is making me see things that aren't there."

"I think it was inevitable for you to really start looking into his case again," Jerry replied. "Mitch, too. I think that's why he hasn't officially taken you off it." Jerry put his hands up defensively. "I get it. You want to see what it was that you had missed. I'm just looking out for you, Sam. You know I have your back."

"Then you know that I can't just let this go," Sam replied. "I can't just act like it never happened."

"This guy screwed up your life for one night," Jerry replied. "It's bound to have left lasting effects, I know, but, don't let him take over the rest of your time on this Earth, man." He shook his head back and forth. "Because we both know in this line of work, we don't know how much time we've got."

"And we don't know when a case is truly over," Sam replied. Jerry hesitated for a moment, but slowly nodded his head. "Just because we put a lid on the box of Snyder's file doesn't mean we won't have a future reason to open it." Jerry let out a long sigh through his nose. "That we don't have a reason to open it now. He could be connected with someone else. We just don't know."

"Maybe it's better that we don't go looking for something that might not be there," Jerry said.

"The last time we did that, waited until all of the evidence was in front of us, my sons were kidnapped," Sam pointed out. Jerry opened and closed his mouth but didn't say a word. He was only on the periphery of what had happened that night – and Sam wouldn't want it any other way. He didn't want anyone else to experience the fear and uncertainty he had felt that night.

He could remember pulling up into his driveway that night and just feeling like something was off. Even before Jessica had shut off the car, an odd prickling feeling had rushed over his body. "Wait here," he had said tensely, cutting over whatever it was Jessica was saying at the time.

She instantly noticed his change in demeanor. "What is it?" she asked, tightly clutching the keys in the ignition. She hastily removed it from the ignition and scrambled to follow him out of the car. "Sam. What is it, Sam?"

"Just wait here, Jessica." He had removed his gun from his side holster, using his free hand to motion for her to stay where she was. His eyes shifted towards the open front door, and then back over to his wife. "Wait here. Something's wrong."

Sam could hear Jessica's footsteps rushing up behind him as he took long steps, as quietly as he could, up the front steps and into the house. He could just tell that something wasn't right. Before he saw the knocked over chair in front of the closet; before he saw the mess that was the living room and the kitchen; his own ties affixed to the banister; the CDs and jellybeans scattered all over the floor; he could just sense that his house wasn't safe anymore. That it was unbearably quiet, unsettlingly still.

"Oh, no, no," Jessica had moaned hurrying from room to room. "The boys! Where are the boys?" Sam was right behind her, running from room to room, calling her sons' names, praying that they were just too scared to come out of hiding. But they never got a response. "Not my boys. Not my boys."

Then his work-side had kicked in. Grabbing Jessica by the shoulders, he had led her out of house, away from the crime scene. Reminding her that they were mixing up all the evidence that could still be in the house. He had then called his co-workers, the local police, anyone that would get to his house and start the investigation as quickly as possible.

"Calm down. Calm down, Jessica," he had said over and over as more and more police cars filled their driveway. Red and blue lights had lit up the neighborhood, reflecting the worry and anxiousness held in his wife's eyes. "We'll find them. I promise, we'll find them. I'll find them."

"My babies," Jessica had whimpered, "my babies. Who would do this? They're just boys."

Emily had given them some insight; handing them a note detailing what had happened to Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum and why. It had helped, but it also brought more questions from them all, especially her parents. Mr. and Mrs. Sergeant had started demanding answers from their daughter. Why had she been over at the Douglas house so late? Why would she sneak out? Was it the first time or had she been sneaking out to see Rocky for ages? Out of worry, and fear, one right after another, after another. Insinuating this. Questioning that. All the while, Emily's face grew more and more red. Embarrassment, of course. But, she was clearly, obviously upset. Tears clung to her eyelashes, that much Sam could make out in the moonlight as she turned away from himself and Jessica, a sharp "Mom," rolling off Emily's tongue.

"Emily, it's going to be ok," Sam had reassured her. Still, Emily had looked embarrassed, and did whatever she could not to look either set of parents in the eye. He had clutched the note given to him tightly in his hand. "We've got an idea of what's happening now. What's most important is that you're ok."

"Sweetie, we're just so glad you're not hurt," Jessica had added.

"But you should go and tell my friends, the nice cops over there, everything that you saw," Sam said gently. "It'll help us get the boys back safe and sound, ok?" Emily had nodded and was guided by her parents over to a group of police officers talking quietly amongst each other.

The rest of that night was essentially playing a game of chase with Snyder. He would give anything to hear his sons arguing at that point in time. To have it all just be a terrible game of hide and seek with the babysitter.

At the same time, Sam had found some comfort in knowing that his sons were all together. As much as they had gotten on each other's nerves, they were certainly all close with each other. Sam remembered how excited Rocky was to find out he was getting a little brother or sister. After Colt was born, he would proudly show off his brother to anyone who would give him a smidgen of attention. And Colt soaked up all that attention as the cute little brother, up until Tum-Tum came around. He wasn't exactly happy to hand over the title, but he did take the role of big brother seriously.

Despite how much they could annoy each other, mostly on purpose, Colt did look out for Tum-Tum. Growing up, Colt could be found sleeping on the floor in Tum-Tum's room, on occasion. Asking to have "sleepovers" was a usual occurrence in the house – until the boys got tired of being around each other all the time and wanted space.

Maybe, Sam thought, he really should think about Colt getting his own room. It was only fair; being the middle child wasn't easy and he did sacrifice a lot in that position. They all had to sacrifice a lot. All for his job. And it was his job that put them all in danger in the first place.

"They're ok now," Jerry reminded Sam. "Aren't they?"

"They are," Sam agreed. "Therapy has been going well. School's been going ok so far. Nothing I feel I really need to worry about."

"But then again, when do you stop worrying, right?" Jerry asked. Sam chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Let me tell you, one day without getting a call from school about Darryl's behavior, is a cause of celebration nowadays." He waved his hand in the air at Sam's look of concern. "I'm sorry things between our sons haven't been the greatest, but I'm trying."

"So am I," Sam replied. "I think as long as we keep trying things will be ok."

"Either that, or they'll eventually come to an understanding by beating the pulp out of each other," Jerry said, and Sam chuckled. "Remember when we could just handle our problems that way?" If only he could have handled whatever issues he had with Snyder like that back in the day? But, he wasn't that kind of guy. He preferred to handle situations with his words.

"That was before schools implemented their zero tolerance policies," Sam replied. "And before my kids started their ninja training. I just don't want anyone to get hurt."

"Neither do I," Jerry agreed. He leaned forward in his seat, resting his arms on his knees. Sam copied his movement, moving forward to rest his arms on his desk. "If you really think Snyder is someone worth keeping an eye on after all these years, then I'll do everything I can to help. You've got me in your corner, Sam. If you need someone to listen to your theories, or to join you on following a lead. I'll be there. No questions asked. If it means keeping your family safe."

"No questions asked?" Sam asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Ok, well, sometimes I have to make sure you're still in the right headspace," Jerry replied, "but that comes with the territory of being your partner. Besides, Jessica would kill me if I didn't look out for you." He gazed curiously at Sam. "How's she been doing with all of this?"

"We got into a fight this morning," Sam admitted. "We both agreed that we want to tell the boys about Snyder. How much we're allowed to say any way. She wanted to tell them as soon as possible, and I'm still thinking about how to go about telling them. Not to mention with how weird my hours are…" He wet his lips. "I just don't want the boys to think of us any differently after they hear some of these things."

"Your boys think the world of you and Jessica," Jerry said. "They know everything you do is just to protect them. Nothing could change their opinion of you."

"If there's anything I've learned over the years," Sam said, "it's that you never really know what people think of you."

A/N: I've always wondered how Emily's parents would react to her being involved with the Douglas boys going missing, so you've got a little bit of a snippet of it here. I just always thought it was odd in the movie Emily just gave the note to Mrs. Douglas and then ran off. But they can only show so much in a movie.

Thanks for reading and thanks for your patience between updates. We'll be back with Snyder and his point of view on things in the next chapter.

-Rhuben