A/N: You love me, you really do . . . (sniffle) Yay! I gots reviews! I loves you so muchly GMGirl, SoratoFan, and Arsinen! You rock my world with a steady beat! (insert wild head banging) Aaaanywho, yay! More Yama kins in this chapter! And another . . . colorful . . . random character. (smacks head) Must lay off Mountain Dew in the wee hours of moring, tis a dangerous thing aye! Tehe, gots a cutsie memory of our one and only an his lil girl and that strange guy is gonna wish he'd never set eyes on an Ishida. Yay!

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Four:
Fie Ye Damned Oven! / Reunited?

Where in the hell was he going to find a seven year old in this huge freakin' city?! It seemed quite impossible, and curse it, just like he, Tyler simply would not be found if she didn't want to be found . . .

"Tyler I swear, if you don't come out here right now I'm afraid I'm going to have to do something too dreadful to describe!" He laughed as he searched through the apartment. "Tyler! You're making Daddy late! Come on, I gotta get you to the baby sitter's!"

He groaned as he plopped down on the couch, still looking casually around. Damn that girl! And he, he was loosing his touch! Outwitted by a three year old! It was then that he heard a small giggle. Ah ha! The bathroom!

"I'm warnin' you young lady, you'd better come out right now!" For some reason he just couldn't sound menacing, not without laughing himself.

Tip toeing, he pushed the bathroom door slightly ajar and peeked in. Nothing. Quiet, ever so quietly he snuck in and peered behind the shower curtains. Nothing. In the cabinet under the sink? Nothing. Behind the door? Of course not. Where else could the little toddler hide?! Defeated he walked out of the bathroom towards Sora and his bedroom, maybe the noise came from there?

From within the clothes hamper came a small shuffling noise and a blonde mop of hair peeked cautiously over the rim. Giggling with delight she tumbled from the hamper and ran to attach herself to the back of her father's legs, nearly taking him down in the process!

Matt looked down at his little girl and smiled; even if he wanted to he just couldn't be angry at her. It had taken him every bit of will power to leave her there at the baby sitters that day.

. . . Shaking his head he shook away any thoughts other than to find his daughter. If he could do nothing else right he would find her. Tyler might be tough for her age but dammit, she was only seven! In this huge city all by herself, who knew what horrible tradegies could befall her?

These thoughts only strengthened his resolution as he ran through the streets, desperately crying out her name for lack of any other good idea. He probably could've asked a police officer to help, went back to get his car, called her friends and neighbors himself . . . but in his state of mind he was lucky he could remember her name.

There! A small blonde head across the street! He hovered on the edge of the sidewalk waiting for a glimpse of the fair haired child's face. Slightly the head turned as she and a man turned the corner. Tyler! It was her! Who was that man she was with? So help him, if that man hurt his daughter he'd . . .

Matt sprinted across the street and ignored the screeching tires and blaring horns, he just had to get to her before something happened! Around the corner he dashed, pausing to search for the duo once more. No! Dammit, he couldn't see her! Wait! Up ahead! Again he was off, shoving through the crowd with abandon as he fought to get to his daughter.

Eventually he lost sight of them at the apartment complex ahead. Shit! He thought with great worry. That bastard took her back to his apartment! What kind of pervert is he? I'm going to kill him when I find him! His eyebrows knit together furiously as his hands clenched. He just had to get to her before something happened! But it would take hours to search apartment to apartment . . .

Deciding that the quickest way to the bastard . . . and his daughter . . . was to ask the neighbors, he walked up to the closest door and knocked impatiently. A shuffle was heard from inside and a croaky voice shouted, "Keep yer pants on, I'm comin, I'm comin! Somebody answer that damn phone!" Slowly, ever so slowly, the door cracked open.

"Why hello there young man, what can I do for you? Would you like some cookies? I've got some in the oven!" A foul stench came from the apartment and the old woman wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Hum . . . I suppose I don't have cookies anymore . . ." A forlorn look crossed her face before she remembered her guest and a bright (toothless) grin came back to her crinkled face.

"I don't want your cookies ma'am, I'm looking for somebody that lives here. Big brown hair, 'bout this high?" He gestured with his hands the approximate height.

The old woman squinted carefully at his hands before she ever so slowly dug out her glasses and balanced them precariously upon her nose.

"A brown haired man you say? And about this tall?" She imitated his hand gesture.

Matt, elated that he'd found some kind of connection with the hag, nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Do you know him?"

"Hum . . . big hair you say? Was he in a suit, had a black briefcase, wore a ridiculous dinosaur tie?"

"Err, yes! As a matter of fact yes! Do you know him?" He repeated impatiently.

"Hum . . . can't says I do. I have Oreos too, would you like some Oreos boy? You need some meat on yer bones! I got a nice apple pie cooling on the counter and fruit cake from three years ago! Still has the original wrapping paper an all!"

The woman blinked a few times as she realized she was now babbling to thin air, shrugged, and reentered her apartment. Shouts then ensued as she grabbed the fire extinguisher. "Back! Back I say! Fie ye damned oven that was my favorite cookie tray!"

Frustrated at the old woman's senility, he'd left once she answered negatively on the recognition part. Eventually he found a person willing to cooperate just when he was coming quite near to his wits end. Apartment number 318, third floor. With new found determination, Matt tore up the flights of stairs and ran down the row of apartment doors, nearly by passing number 318. Yamato Ishida was going to kill this man, already he'd thought of some effective methods.

His hand reached up slowly for the doorbell, infuriated further by its cheerful ringing. This man was probably a child molester, a serial killer, a kidnapper! Why else would he take a little girl to his apartment for Christ's sake!

Some thudding noises were heard from inside, followed by a thump that sounded deliciously painful. His eyes narrowed further as the steps came closer and he could only just restrain himself from beating down the door just then. The clicking and sliding of two locks were heard from inside and the door was opened revealing the man . . . and a child that certainly was not Tyler.

"You is all wet mister." Commented the small boy as he sucked absently upon his thumb.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Beautiful comment to go out on, ne? (ruffles Tai's ickle boy's hair) Though I've been putting off giving the tyke a name for far too long me thinks. Any suggestions? He's just too kewt! And then the old lady. I couldn't help it. I kinda picture her looking like Mulan's grandmother, you know the Disney movie? She's not quite so bad as Matt an T.K.'s grandmother however (giggles) but still ever so much fun. (pulls out pointy stick of doom) Bad stove! (whack) No burnie da cookies! (holds up Frank) I'll sic Frank the "All Holy Butter Churnerer" and the rest of the Amish Mafia after your hynies! And don't make me bring out George the invisable vampire! (whispers) His only weakness is chipmunks and flying monkies! But you didn't hear that from me!

What to expect in the next chapter? Uhhh . . . not quite sure . . . I just sit here and let the words flow from my finger tips . . . maybe I'm possessed . . . (whacks self on head) Bad possessy thingy ma bobber! ... No, GOOD thingy ma bobber! (rubs head)

There's a lot of running in this story isn't there? Everybody's running . . . there is no skipping, jumping, trotting, sashaying, or spelunking . . . (tear)

(does "I Dream of Genie" nod and vanishes)