A/N: As always, italics represent Mufasa's unspoken thoughts.

A few minutes passed when Mufasa noticed that it was raining. The droplets soaked his mane and fur but in a way it was welcoming to him- he had not felt rain or sensed rain for a lifetime.

Mufasa heard the sound of singing in the distance and he knew only one being who sang the particular words that reached his ears: "A sante sana squash banana..."

His face lit up. "Rafiki," he stated.

He sprinted on and met the baboon. The old shaman beamed at him, not looking remotely surprised to see his departed friend standing before him.

Nothing really surprises Rafiki, does it?

"Greetings, Mufasa! Dat was certainly a spectacular entrance you made!"

The two hugged as they had done long ago, just before Simba's Presentation.

"It's good to see you, friend, truly," Mufasa said honestly. "I've missed you."

The wise baboon nodded sorrowfully. "And I you, and I you," he said. "Say, you got any idea how The Kings of the Past let you come here?" There was a mysterious look of knowledge shining on his gleeful face.

"Absolutely none."

"Ah, Rafiki has 'is ways!" he burst out, waving his stick significantly.

Mufasa was touched. "You did that for me, Rafiki?" he asked hoarsely. "Really?"

"Of course. But you have to realize that you cannot stay forever, Mufasa," Rafiki warned.

He cocked his head to the side. "I know that."

"All I am sayin' is dat some certain lion may be broken hearted when you leave."

I'm such a fool.

"Talking about the certain lion, how is he?" Mufasa said anxiously. "He didn't seem to be fine when I left him."

"Do not fret, Mufasa!" Rafiki said, "He will recover- most likely resting right now."

Good. He needs a rest after all he's done.

"Your son has de makings of a great King, you know," the baboon said, interrupting Mufasa's thoughts. "You should be very proud of him."

"I've always been proud of him." The reply was extremely truthful, with not a trace of sarcasm. "I shall have to leave, Rafiki. I'm sorry but I need to see Simba."

"Certainly, certainly!" Rafiki cried. "It was wonderful meeting you, Mufasa."

"It was wonderful meeting you, Rafiki," he said and then the two friends left each other.

Mufasa ran ahead when he heard an agitated voice from down below.

"Hey! Would you watch where you are going!"

He glanced down and saw that his great paws had almost stepped on a meerkat. There was a warthog beside him and they both craned their necks up at him.

The meerkat laughed apprehensively. "Woah. You're a big kitty, aren't you?"

The warthog looked appalled. "Timon, you can't say that to someone!"

"Eh, Pumbaa, maybe we should...skedaddle? In case, you know who decides he's a bit hungry?"

Timon? Pumbaa? That rings a bell...

"Hey! I know you two!" he said in realization.

The two stepped backwards comically. "And we...don't have a clue who you are." Timon said. "Come on, Pumbaa, let's go!"

"Wait! Didn't you two look after my son?"

Pumbaa thought. "You mean Simba?"

Mufasa grinned. "That's the one."

"Wait, wait, wait! Let's get this right: Simba had a father?" Timon said in disbelief.

Pumbaa rolled his eyes, "Well, Timon, everyone-"

"I just got one question for ya Mr. Simba's Dad," Timon cut across, looking accusingly at Mufasa. "Where have you been when Simba was with us?"

Ah. This is going to be awkward, isn't it?

"I'm..."

Oh, how should I put this? Just be blunt. To the point.

"I'm dead," Mufasa said quickly, dreading Timon and Pumbaa's reaction.

"AARGH!"

"Shut up!" he pleaded. "It's no big deal..."

They gaped. "N-no...no big deal?!" Timon spluttered. "You're a ghost!"

Pumbaa's mouth was open in an amusing silent scream.

Timon and Pumbaa went to run but Mufasa blocked them in desperation. "Please! I need to ask you something."

"What questions does a dead lion need to ask?!"

"When- when my son lived with you...was he happy?"

They stopped looking terrified. "What do you mean?"

What...what do I mean?

Mufasa cast his minds back to the days of him and Simba as a cub...that seemed such a short time ago.

"Did he laugh?" he whispered. "A properlaugh- when your eyes sparkle and your stomach hurts and you can't...can't stop..."

Horrified, Mufasa realized that his throat was closing up and he felt his eyes growing misty.

No. Tears will not fall right now.

Mufasa just managed to compose himself before Timon and Pumbaa saw.

"Geez, we've got ourselves a ghost poet," Timon scoffed.

He was glad that they had miraculously stopped screaming.

"Well," Pumbaa said. "To answer your question, sir, Simba always laughed. He was a bit down the day we found but after that he was just fun all day."

Thank heaven.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," he replied, relieved. "I can never thank you enough for looking after my son."

Before the warthog and meerkat could say anything else, Mufasa dashed onwards yet again, through wet grass, muddy potholes...

And he was there. He was actually standing on Pride Rock. He did not care that it was faded to a dull grey and slippery with water;

Mufasa was back; He was home.

So, how was it? I thought that adding Timon and Pumbaa in this chapter would give it some humour because the rest has been a bit sad. :)

Up next...maybe some more Simba. :)

IMPORTANT: Review, review, review! :)