Yes, it's been a while. Going through a Master's Degree will do that to a person.
I've barely even had time to work on my original fiction, much less fan-fiction for a show that hasn't even been on for almost a year.
But I finally found time to get back to work on this fic...in time for an imminent new semester. Go figure. Hope I can make it to the scene I wanted to pause at before I go on hiatus again.

Thanks to the episodes "And Your Enemies Closer" and "War of the Cryptids," I have revised my timeline (and other things) all the way up through chapter 37.
I also decided to swap around the first two arcs, inserted a new chapter 30, and made various corrections for typos and the like throughout the story. I wouldn't be surprised if I'd missed something, though, so would appreciate the feedback.
And I shifted around my replies to reader reviews. If yours is one of the first 11 reviews I've received, the reply (if any) is now in the chapter immediately following your review.
Future replies may be displaced as those had been, depending on when and where readers continue to review.
I will continue to make minor changes of the technical kind. But the story should be able stand as it is for the moment, while I finally start banging out some new chapters. At least until I reach the point where I wanted to take a break, and work on other stories before I start forgetting them.

Now, then:

I don't own Doyle or his parents, the Secret Saturdays, Epsilon or his people, or Arthur Beeman.
I own Andres (who, unlike most other generics, was named in an attempt at cultural reference—key word being "attempt") and any other generic or anonymous characters.

New language: I use what, according to Wikipedia, are words in the Peruvian Coastal Spanish dialect.
However, further googling has indicated that at least one of the words I use might not mean what Wikipedia says it means, so again, I don't know how accurate I might be.

Timing...say within a few months of chapter 37. No more than six months after chapter 36.
Same calendar year as both, so four years following the Avalanche arc.

Corrections

Andres watched as Arthur paced the room for Powers only knew how many times.

Andres stifled a yawn, and Arthur spun to glare at him. "Don't even think of it!" Arthur snapped.

Andres blinked. "Sor-ry. It's not every day I get to stay up until—" He glanced, then stared, at his watch. "Is that morning? It's your shift, boss. I'd usually have been in bed hours ago."

"He's supposed to be here," Arthur muttered. "Those people just get off on wasting my time, don't they? A whole day I could be working, but no, I have to wait for one of them."

"He said he'd show, when? Noon-ish? We'd been doing nothing but wait all night!" Andres shook his head. "They're not the ones that made you waste the day, chibolo."

Arthur stopped and scowled at the man. "Too many projects would require more than a day of work," he said. He tried to ignore the other insult; the difference in their ages was slight enough that it could almost have been casual. "I cannot drop everything in the middle of a process just for them, so yes, they are wasting my time." He groaned. "Remind me why I agreed to this?"

Andres shrugged. "Sure, just as soon as you remind me why I agreed to work for you." He pointed to a door. "At least take a shower, would you?"

"I can't," Arthur protested, "at least not until after he's left. I can't be off guard against these people! I have to be ready for anything. I've been up all night making sure that there's nothing that could distract—"

"And you look it," Andres replied. "You sure letting them see that is any smarter than dropping your guard? At least a quick shower would help wake you up a little." He grinned. "And maybe make them think the world doesn't revolve around them, make them wait, waste their time a little."

Arthur frowned, but conceded that his assistant had a point.

"Least they only called yesterday," Andres muttered, after Arthur had gone. "Else he'd have been stressing out even longer. You'd think he was dealing with the Mafia or something, the way he's been carrying on."

—

Andres waited until the door buzzed three times before answering. "Hola, Beeman residence. UFOs Extraordinaire. We are not available right now, so if you leave—"

"You do realize, I can see you," the man in grey interrupted.

Andres shrugged. "Didn't hurt to try."

The man snorted. "Where is Dr. Beeman?"

"Busy," Andres replied.

"Then get him," the man in grey snarled, "and make him unbusy. I have business to settle with him."

"Who shall I say is looking for him?" Andres asked, trying for a bored tone.

"I am Agent Epsilon," the man in grey replied. "I spoke to Dr. Beeman yesterday. I—"

But Andres had already wandered off.

A few minutes passed, and Andres returned to let Epsilon in.

Epsilon grabbed a little boy by the back of the neck, and shoved the child into the room ahead of him.

The boy staggered and nearly fell, regained his balance, then huddled in corner away from them.

Andres frowned at the agent's behavior, but was determined not to let up the act. He decided he'd mention it to Arthur, and cleared his throat to catch Epsilon's attention. "He's just finishing up—big project, can't just drop it in the middle, you see—but the boss ought to be done soon. So, if you don't mind waiting a few more minutes..."

Epsilon narrowed his eyes at Andres.

And the child, whom Epsilon was now deliberately ignoring, cringed.

Andres thought that behavior was very odd, and considered remarking on this. But before he could open his mouth, Arthur walked into the room.

Epsilon glanced up at Arthur and noticed his wet hair. The agent looked at Andres with a raised eyebrow. "Busy with a big project?"

Andres shrugged. "Wouldn't want hygiene corrupting the results, would we?" He turned to Arthur. "The gallinazo says he's Epsilon, the guy who spoke to you yesterday about a job?"

Arthur nodded. Somehow he managed to keep a straight face. The agent didn't look quite like a vulture, but he had the feel of one. "Yes, he's the same one." Arthur kept his arms folded, even when Epsilon offered his own hand.

Epsilon waited a moment more, then put his hand down. "I must say, I don't often hear of the host being late to a meeting. Not in his own base, at least."

"I don't see why not," Arthur replied. "Not if this is how you arrange your meetings. I never invited you; for that matter, I don't even want you here. Yet here you are. I've had to put my projects on hold to talk with you, and that is something that I'm just not in the habit of doing." His smile matched the chill in his tone. "If you honestly think you're going to work for me, you need to learn to work on my schedule."

Epsilon stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. The child started to inch away from him, but froze when the agent looked in his direction. "I never said I would work for you," Epsilon replied.

Arthur watched him curiously. "You didn't—then where is this field assistant you insisted I need to hire?"

Epsilon gestured at the child. "Doyle will be your new assistant."

"What." Arthur stared for a moment. He shook his head. "If I'd known your people had such a sense of humor," he muttered, "I never would have agreed to this meeting."

"Begging your pardon," Epsilon said, "but I am completely serious. It will be useful for his training."

"I agreed to this meeting, Epsilon," Arthur snarled, "interrupted my work, because you told me you had someone I need to hire. Not some feeble minded toddler who ought to be at home with his parents!"

The boy watched the two of them; Epsilon had calmed down, but Arthur became angrier with every word. The louder he became, the more the boy cringed.

Epsilon shook his head, mildly amused. "The boy is an orphan." He turned to leave.

Arthur opened his mouth to continue shouting...then snapped it shut. "Not my concern," he finally said, racing after Epsilon to keep up. "Try, uh...Cheechoo. Their youngest is the type for stray pets, isn't he? Give the boy to them."

"That...is an option, yes," Epsilon replied, slowly. "But it is not ideal, under the circumstances." He shook his head. "You must not let his age fool you; the boy will be an asset in...certain of your projects."

"I don't have time to babysit," Arthur protested.

"I wasn't asking you to," Epsilon replied. He reached his ship and climbed in. Before he closed the door, he turned to look Arthur in the eye. "We shall speak again."

After the airship left, Arthur turned around to head back to his lab...and caught sight of the child. "You're still here?" he muttered. "Hey, Andres, you mind telling me when I lost that argument?"

"Probably when that gallinazo decided he wasn't arguing," Andres said, and shrugged. "And you were taking the pericote no matter what you say."

I hate kids, Arthur thought, and everyone knows it. What was he thinking, leaving a mouse-timid child with me? He sighed. "Fine," he said in disgust. He glanced at his watch. "Probably night, still, where they are. I'll try Cheechoo in a few hours. Find the kid something to do until then."

—

Arthur could not reach the Cheechoo family.

He'd called several times throughout the day, and every day for a week straight.

The most useful reply he'd received was that they were unavailable. Not one of their associates was willing to tell him when they'd be available. He'd tried leaving messages, but to no avail. The people he'd spoken to seemed distracted at best, downright hostile at worst.

He might have thought he was being given the runaround, but could not imagine a reason for it. These people were usually very friendly, even to him.

Even his rare visitors were mystified by the problem. None had better luck contacting the family; it seemed to become more difficult with every attempt. He was not the only one noticing hostility in these communications.

And nobody could come up with anyone better to take the boy off his hands.

The child had kept out of his way the entire time, and did not appear to suffer from lack of attention. Arthur's projects were another matter. After the third one failed from his neglect, he recognized that trying to get rid of the kid was becoming more disruptive than letting him stay might be.

He began to give Doyle simple tasks, general labor, necessary yet mundane, to give the scientist and Andres more time to their own work.

Andres, for his part, tried to coax the boy, but Doyle seemed to prefer his solitude, so neither paid him much attention.

And neither had any idea how much attention the child paid to them.

On the subject of revisions:

Now that I'm working on my own site, I plan to make further revisions to some of the chapters.
Not to the story itself, this time. Just to some of the author notes.

See, I figure on taking some of my explanations of various "theories" (those that I plan to salvage for my original fic) off the posted story and putting them in a general "theories" section on my site.
Then I can just refer to them within the fanfic (visit such-and-such page for more on how I want to develop thus-and-such notion in my original fiction), and cut down the note size and word count in the posted story.
I can think of more than a few chapters that need such editing.

If you don't care about the theories, it cleans up the chapter size and word count.
If you are, you should be able to click to my site from my profile page, even if you aren't signed in.
If not, anonymous reviews are enabled, so drop me a line if you need to.

Please visit, please click on ads, and if you do online shopping, please try the uPromise guest shopping link.
It should all be explained on my site, and it will all help contribute to my student loan, at no cost to you...
Except the online shopping, of course. Make that no extra cost besides what you would have spent, anyway.

But this might be considered a sort of minor edit; it should not delay me (much) in writing future chapters.
Homework, on the other hand...