"What happened in Bolivia?" Shawn asked, his eyes wide with excitement.

Jack grinned broadly, pulling up a chair and taking a seat. He leaned forward, his eyes sparkling as his voice grew low and ominous.

"I was being hunted by these guys who wanted to kill me…" he began, slowly drawing his nephew into the story with each word. "Me and my partner were trapped in a cave…we were surrounded on all sides…they were firing at us…"

"For God's sake, Jack." Henry rolled his eyes. "That's Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid."

Jack glanced up at him, raising a single eyebrow.

"You think Butch and Sundance are the only people to ever get cornered in a cave in Bolivia?"

"I think you'd better stop filling my son's head with that crap." Henry returned, turning to Shawn.

"Go wash your hands." He ordered.

"But dinner's not ready yet." Shawn argued. "And I want to hear Uncle Jack's story!"

"Shawn."

"Fine." Shawn sighed, rolling his eyes as he reluctantly stomped out of the room.

"Don't do that, Jackie." Henry said when he was sure Shawn was out of earshot.

"Don't do what?" Jack laughed, leaning back in his chair as he dropped his hat on the table. "Don't tell my nephew stories?"

"Don't make running around South America, staying one step ahead of the law and half a step ahead of pissed-off ex-partners sound glamorous!"

"I don't think he has to try too hard to do that, Henry." Madeline laughed. "Shawn loves his stories."

"And some of them are even true!" Jack added. "I only make up the ones that didn't really happen."

Henry rolled his eyes as there was yet another knock on the front door.

"Henry! Madeline! Anyone home?" A voice called.

"In the kitchen, Dad." Henry called back, still glaring at his little brother.

Grandpa entered a moment later.

"Hey, Dad." Jack greeted from his chair. "Will you tell Supercop here to lay off?"

"You told Dad on me?" Henry snorted, staring at his brother disbelievingly. "Really, Jackie?"

"Well, you didn't leave me much choice, did you?" Jack shot back. "I've only been here five minutes and you're already jumping down my throat!"

Grandpa sighed and rolled his eyes, looking over at Madeline.

"What are they fighting about now?" He asked with a weary groan.

"I don't know." Madeline shrugged. "I stopped trying to keep up with them about five minutes ago…if you try really hard, you can kind of tune them out. Almost."

"If you boys can't play nice," Grandpa warned seriously, not about to waste his effort trying to get to the bottom of the argument. "You won't get any dessert."

"It's my damn house, Dad." Henry pointed out. "And my dessert."

"You still have to play nice."

"Just stop putting ideas in Shawn's head." Henry ordered, turning his gaze back on his brother.

"What do you want him to have in his head?" Jack snorted. "Ideas are a good thing, Henry."

"Not when they make Shawn want to go to South America!" Henry shouted, surprising everyone with the virulence of his response.

For a moment, no one replied to the outburst.

There just didn't seem to be anything to say.

"I don't want him to go to South America." Henry said finally. "I don't want him disappearing off the face of the earth. I don't want him getting shot at in Bolivia because he tried to pull a fast one on the wrong person. I don't want to go two years without knowing where the hell he is. So just stop putting those damn ideas into his head, Jackie!"

Jack blinked, looking up at his brother.

"You still call me Jackie." He mumbled, almost accusingly.

"So what?" Henry grunted, taking a seat at the table.

"So…no one else has called me that since I was six. Not even Dad."

Henry just shrugged.

"No one else is your big brother."