A/N: I'm sure you're all thirsty for my blood after that last chapter, but writing is no fun if you don't take a few roads less traveled every now and then. Trust me. The Island Hopper will make good. It needed to be done, but it was damn hard to write and emotionally draining to read (and to edit, which is why this update is a double header – this chapter was holding up the others that are already done) so I promise no more super-angst. There's enough emotional turmoil in the world without unduly subjecting yourself to it in fiction. Thanks for the reviews.

Wakko Warner sat in a forlorn looking bar on the outskirts of Toontown, nursing his first beer in seven years and wondering why it didn't taste better. He'd almost managed to talk himself out of drinking alcohol on this first night of his second chance, but the throbbing in his head demanded some kind of remedy and so Wakko ordered the only known treatment that was quick and cheap – a Fuji brand beer. The liquid inside wasn't the cool, crisp bubbly stuff he remembered; now that Wakko was completely sober, the beer tasted bitter and stale. As he pushed it away and ordered a Coke, he had never been so grateful for a revolting glass of alcohol. It meant that perhaps he wasn't a lost cause after all.

He had come off the fight better than his older brother. Although his sides hurt and his nose was swollen, he didn't look much different from the other disenchanted toons in the bar who sported various injuries sustained in street skirmishes. He had cleaned himself up in the grimy bathroom in the kind of oily light that shines from the truly hellish places on earth, mopping up blood and tenderly dabbing soft, swollen spots on his face. Wakko had returned to the bar, after ducking out of the sight of a few of his old cronies, and had been staring into space for the better part of an hour when he heard,

"Hey, are you Wakko Warner?"

Wakko turned to see a human with shaggy hair and shorts gawking at him, clutching a photo in his hand. Inwardly, Wakko sighed. He hated meeting fans these days. They always expected him to be the Wakko Warner they used to see on TV instead of the real life failure he really was. "Yeah," Wakko said slowly, resisting the urge to say, I used to be Wakko Warner.

"Hell, I been looking all over for you," the man said, taking a barstool next to Wakko and shoving the picture in his back pocket. "Been in every damn restaurant, hotel and casino in this town trying to find you. If you're so famous, why the hell are you in a place like this? I only came in here to use the bathroom. Just luck I spotted you."

"Who the hell are you?" Wakko said, confused.

"Oh, sorry. Guess I should introduce myself." The man stuck his hand out and smiled. "Name's Red. I work for your sister."

Wakko nearly spit his Coke out onto the bar. "My sister?"

"Yep. Little lady named Dot Warner. I'm her right hand man, and I've come a long way to find you, buddy. Hell, I didn't even need the goddamn photo. You two are practically twins."

Wakko reluctantly shook the man's hand. "What does Dot want with me? I haven't spoken to her in almost fifteen years."

"All in good time, man, all in good time. What's that you got there? A Coke? Hell, buddy, let me get you a beer. You're gonna need one once I tell you why I'm here…"

"I don't want one."

Red spotted the half-empty bottle of Fuji on the bar top next to Wakko. "No wonder you don't want any. Fuji is piss water. Let me get you a real beer." Red signaled to the bartender. "Hey barkeep! Couple of Red Stripes, please!" Red turned to Wakko. "Bet you're wondering why I'm looking for a has-been toon, eh?"

Wakko resisted the urge to punch him right in his mouth. "I'm wondering why in the hell you're such an asshole."

"Whoa, buddy," Red said with an easy smile, opening two beers for them. "You're not going to think I'm an asshole when I tell you how much money you could make off a deal your little sis has cooked up."

"How do you know my sister? She disappeared fifteen years ago."

"Yeah, and I know where she disappeared to. Place called Little Trouble Island in the Dutch West Indies."

Wakko cocked an eyebrow. "Dot's in the Caribbean?"

"Where else? And man, she is one little businesswoman, I'll tell you that, brother. Always got a scheme going to make money. And her latest one is a beaut. That's where you come in. You know anything about sunken treasure?"

"No."

"Dot cooked up a scheme to find a lost pirate ship that sank in 1718 with a shitload of gold on it. Making a long story short, we found it last week. Man, did we find it!"

"So what's this got to do with me?"

"That ship's loot is buried under a huge coral bed that grew on the wreck over time. We need to blast the coral off of the wreck to get the treasure beneath it. Dot says you know a lot about stuff that goes boom."

Wakko shook his head. "That was a long time ago. I haven't messed with that stuff in years."

"So what? You did it once. You can do it again. I'm sure knowledge of munitions and arms is kind of like never forgetting how to ride a bike. Plus, it don't seem like you're busy at the moment. What have you got to lose?"

"Look buddy, I've got better things to do, like trying to put my life back together. I don't need to be doing anything that could get me landed back in prison."

"Hey, there are good risks and bad risks, right? A good risk is one where the benefit outweighs the risk. Think about all the money you could make off of this thing, as opposed to the slight chance that we'll get caught."

"People are sure as hell gonna notice an explosion big enough to blow a coral bed to smithereens!"

"We can pull this off Wakko, all we need is you. Think about it. You got any money to start this so-called new life? What the hell kind of job can a toon get with a criminal record around here anyway? Face it Wakko, this is a good risk for a guy in your position. And when we've got all we want and you have your cut of the treasure, you're done. You can hop back to Toontown and buy a nice penthouse on the swank side of town. Never have another worry for the rest of your life. No one even has to know about it."

Wakko sighed and muttered, "I'm just a blight to everyone I've ever known. I'm not worth anything. Why should I?"

"Because Dot thinks you're worth something," Red said in a serious tone looking at Wakko soberly. "Look, I know Dot. She ain't no fool. She wouldn't ask you to help if she didn't think you were the only guy on earth who could help us out. I've never heard her mention her family before this. I figured she didn't have one. Hell, I don't. The expatriate lifestyle doesn't support families very well. You must be important to her because she wanted you and only you, bud. No one else would do. I've never seen that from her before. She's taking a risk on you because she knows what she's talking about. From what I hear, it's a good risk. And I'd be willing to bet you're our man. Dot knows what she's doing. Dot believes in you. Come on down to the islands, brother. Better things await you there." Red smiled good-naturedly.

Wakko couldn't deny it sounded very tempting. A little sunshine, explosions and treasure sounded great after a seven year stay in a prison. If the crazy scheme did work out, he could finally buy a home and a little respect, and starting building his life with Harpo again. A thought came to him suddenly. "I'll do it on one condition."

"Name it."

Wakko shifted in his seat. "I've got a pal stuck in prison at the moment. Name's Buster. He knows as much about this stuff as I do and he's got more guts. You help me break him out of prison, and I'll go anywhere you lead me."

"Jesus! Two minutes ago you were worried about being caught by the DNR for a minor charge of environmental destruction, and now you're telling me you want to break some guy out of jail? Are you fucking crazy?"

"Yes," Wakko said, grabbing his coat. "But that's why you need me."

Red sighed. "Dammit. How do I get myself into shit like this?"

"We're Warners, Red," Wakko said with a grin. "We're all like this."

Red and Wakko stepped out into the cool evening from the stifling atmosphere of the bar. Wakko didn't see a small figure crouched in the corner and very nearly tripped over him. Figuring the poor guy was just another out of work toon, Wakko quickly fished a couple of bills out of his pocket and stuffed them in the person's fist. "There you go, buddy. Get yourself a cup of coffee. It's getting cold out here."

"Dad?" a small voice said.

Wakko doubled back and squinted down at the figure in the darkness. "Harpo?"

Harpo got to his feet in the near darkness, drawing his arms around himself for warmth. "Thought I might find you here."

"How'd you figure that?"

"Because it's the worst bar in Toontown, Dad," Harpo said evenly. "Seemed like your kind of place."

Wakko gritted his teeth.. "I guess I deserved that," he muttered, sticking his hands in his pockets. "What're you doing down here so late, little man? This isn't a good part of town." Wakko took off his coat and placed it around Harpo's shoulders. "You'll get mugged."

"I…I wanted to see you, I guess," Harpo said slowly.

"It wasn't for the 2am blues set, hm?" Wakko said with a smile, crouching down to his son's height. "But don't tell me you came all the way down here to see me. I can see right through that, kiddo." In the streetlight, Wakko caught the glint of tears in Harpo's eyes and the quivering bottom lip and reached out instinctively, pulling his son into a protective embrace. "What's wrong?" he asked in a soft voice just above a whisper.

"Yakko…he…well, he…"

"Here, calm down." Wakko led Harpo over to a bench nearby and sat him down. The coat looked huge on Harpo's small frame in the skewed late-night moonlight of the street and Wakko resisted the urge to run his hand through Harpo's hair like he used to when his son was scared. "All right. Tell me."

Harpo wiped his nose fiercely on the back of his sleeve, not wanting the tears to come but also not being able to get the enraged voice of Yakko out of his head. He shook his head heatedly because he knew any voice he spoke with at this point would sound frail and frightened. He didn't want to appear that way in front of his estranged father.

"I'll tell you a story to calm you down, all right?" Wakko said, smiling as warmly as he could. Harpo nodded, grateful that he was not being called upon to speak just yet. "When you were just a little guy, there was a family of birds that had nested in our gutter. I don't know much about birds, but they were pretty. They were all blue and had black chests, and their beaks were this bright, bright orange. Their noses were as pointy as your mother's." Harpo laughed feebly. "And living in Alballa, there wasn't much in the way of natural foliage. So the birds had made their nest out of old scraps of coupons, candy wrappers and flyers from the gas station. I tell you Harpo, it was the ugliest damn nest I'd ever seen. But it was their home, and this family of birds loved it. One day when I went out I heard some peeping coming from the nest, and I looked and saw that there were about five little baby birds. They were falling all over each other trying to get at the worm that their mama was hanging over their heads. I ran inside and got you so I could show you the nest. Now, I don't know how much you know about your early life, but you didn't smile much. It really had to be something special to make you smile, and I was always trying to think up ways to see that smile of yours because it made my day. You weren't much for cartoons or for my antics, but Harpo, the second I lifted you up onto my shoulders and pointed at those baby birds, you broke into a huge grin. I think deep down you knew that you and those birds weren't much different – they came from a less than perfect home, but they were smart, and they were going to learn how to fly away bigger and better things. And you did. You flew away, just like those little birds. That's why you smiled, Harpo. That's why you smiled."

Harpo sniffed and smiled weakly. "That was a good story," he said softly.

"Hey, I hate to break up this Kodak moment, but if we're gonna do this, we need to do it now," Red called from the curb.

Wakko sighed heavily and looked down at Harpo. "I've got to go for a little while," he said slowly.

"Where are you going?"

"Far away from Yakko and far away from Toontown."

"Take me with you," Harpo demanded at once. Wakko looked down at him in surprise.

"Take you with me? Toontown is your home. And what about Yakko and Babs?"

"I want to go with you, Dad."

"Son, take it from me, you're better off here. Plus, what's with this change in attitude? You couldn't stand the sight of me this afternoon."

"I haven't forgiven you. I haven't forgotten, either. This is no way justifies things. I just…I just need to get away from here as bad as you do." Harpo looked somberly up at his father. "Please Dad. I can't explain it now. But please trust me that I know what I'm doing. Let me come."

Wakko studied his son's face for a long moment then nodded slowly. "All right. If that's what you want. But realize that this isn't some carefree adventure, Harpo. Your uncle was right. I'm no saint and I'm not going to pretend that I am. You're going to see a side of life I didn't ever want you to see. But I don't have the authority to tell you what to do; I haven't earned that right. In this world, Harpo, you have to make your own decisions and your own mistakes. I'd die for you, kiddo, but I won't lie and say this will be easy. You're either in it for the long run or you stay home. It's up to you."

Harpo swallowed hard but nodded numbly. "I'm in, Dad. Let's get out of here."

Before hotwiring a car and speeding away towards the desert, Wakko scribbled a quick note to Yakko and stuck it in a post box on the corner:

Yakko,

Harp's with me. He came of his own accord.

I love him too, and swear I'll keep him safe.

Wakko

PS. No man is an island, but we're in a Little Trouble.