For those who like drama between Jim Hawkins and his father, you will LOVE this chapter.

Hopefully.

His father returns, problems result. It also has a bit of Ariel and Dani Spark. So hope you guys enjoy! And Rhimes figures out who the Crystal Thief is. Well, WE know who it is, don't we? But Rhimes gets it all totally completely wrong...

Thanks, Peter. For framing our pal Jim.

I don't want him here. But Mom opened the door anyway.

-Jim

As Jim walked down Joaquin Street, he stopped in front of the Benbow for a while to just stare at it. Small and cozy, with big gilt letters standing out to introduce this little drafty diner to the whole state of New York. The first B was crooked, and Jim had no idea how it happened, but he enjoyed looking at it. It changed things up a bit.

Across the street from the Benbow was Heidi Cogsworth Park. Jim looked across at the park, remembering the story. Bertie Cogsworth, a very rich clock factory owner who used to live here had a daughter, Heidi, who was killed in a car accident days before her wedding. The tragic event sent everyone into shock and sadness. Heidi had been a person who greatly affected the community, by helping anyone in any way she can.

Jim sighed, ran his hands through his hair. In honor of her, Bertie Cogsworth had sold his entire clock factory and used it to buy this 70 acre park, and also construct a stone statue of Heidi to put smack dab in the center. People left trinkets, candles, flowers, and anything they could find to try and ease the pain.

A gray cloud of darkness had hung over New York City after Heidi Cogsworth had died.

Jim walked into the park, and spotted a familiar girl sitting over by the bench. He walked over, touched her shoulder.

She looked up. "Hi, Jim!"
He leaned against the edge of the bench casually. "Hey, Dani. What're you doing?"
Dani appeared to be drawing something in a large sketchbook, a yellow cardboard box of colored pencils open next to her on the bench.

"Drawing," she murmured. "You wanna know what I'm drawing?"
"Sure."
Dani looked up at him, gray eyes flashing with ecstasy. "The Benbow. Your diner."

Jim sat down next to her. "What do you see in the Benbow? It's old. And it's about to fall down."
"It has potential," said Dani, grabbing a brown pencil out of her box, replacing the green one she had been using. "And I'm drawing trees around it. You know what I like most about the Benbow? Other than the food, of course."
Jim chuckled. "Oh, I know. You like to stare at my face when I wait on tables, right?"
Dani snorted. "Puh-leeze, Hawkins." Her eyes grew wistful as she stared at the Benbow. "I like the crooked B."
Jim raised his eyebrows. "But it's…crooked."
Dani nodded. "That's kind of the reason why I like it. The crooked B shows character. It says, 'I have a unique personality.' I see the Benbow differently than other diners. It's sort of like a scar. You know how some people hate scars because it messes up their face? Well, other people like it because it shows character. Like, you've been through something hard and lived."
Jim was thoughtful as he looked down at Dani's drawing. "You made it all warped. And you made the B exactly how it is."
"That B deserves praise," said Dani with a grin.

"Wanna hear something funny?" Jim asked. "That crooked B? Always reminds me of my mom. Because she has this sweet crooked smile, that slants just like that B."
"Your mom," said Dani. "is beautiful, crooked smile and all. And she loves you."
Jim laughed, jumped up, and straightened out his shirt. "I'm sure. Why are you being all mushy with me, Spark?"
Dani flipped to a blank page. "Just letting you know, Hawkins."
Jim sat on the ground. "Draw me. I'll strike a pose." With a grin of mischief he struck a male model pose on the grass.

Dani laughed and lowered a tan pencil to the page, then shook her head. "Why don't you just look somewhere? Like those faraway trees or something. I like to draw people that aren't expecting me to draw them. Like a natural pose."
Jim twitched his lips. "You're a frickin' stalker, you know that, Spark?" Then his eyes softened. "But it pays off." He looked down at her drawings. "These are awesome."
Dani blushed. "Thanks. Now look away. I'll draw you."

Jim had been watching the cityline in the distance over the tops of trees until the sky turned orange. "Forgot to ask you, Spark," Jim said slowly. "Where's your parents?"
"Dad's golfing," Dani said. "Don't move your mouth."
Jim turned his head sharply. "I have to be getting home, though. My mom expects me to do homework and wash dishes and all that crap."

Suddenly, a man's voice made Jim turn around.

"Dani, are you done drawing yet?"
"Coming, Dad," said Dani, standing up and beginning to put her pencils away.

"Who's this?" asked Dani's father, gesturing to Jim.

"A friend," said Dani. "This is Jim. Jim, this is my father."
Jim scrambled to his feet, wiped his pants free of grass stains, and shook the man's hand. "Nice to meet you, sir."
"Sir?" the man turned jovial. "I'm Ron Spark, nothing to be formal about."
Jim smiled and ducked his head.

"Bye, Jim," said Dani. "I'll show you the drawing at school after I've finished it. I got the basic outline, so that's good."
"Cool," said Jim. "See you tomorrow. At school."

He neared the Benbow, and spotted a man lounging around outside. Jim didn't even think twice, he saw the brown hair in back, the seaman attitude he had, and the same suitcase that used to sit in his parents' bedroom closet.

A bright rainforest green.

Jim knew this man.

Jim ran around to the back door and let himself in.

He walked into the kitchen, dumping his schoolbag on the stairs.

"Where on earth have you been?" Sarah, his mother, demanded, walking in with an armload of dishes.

Jim shrugged out of his faded brown jacket and hung it on a peg. "I was in the park with one of my friends."

"What did you learn at school?"

"Nothing."
"Got homework?"
"Yeah."
Sarah shifted. "When will you actually open up and talk to me, Jim?"

Jim stared straight ahead as he plunged his arms, elbow deep, into the soapy dishwater to wash the dishes.

Sarah was concerned now. "Jim? Honey? Are you okay? Did something happen at school?"
Jim shook his head slowly. "Nothing happened at school."
Sarah put her hands on her hips. "Fine. Tell me one thing that happened at school today. Just one damn thing and I'll be happy. I won't bother you for the rest of the day."
Jim swiped a plate with a green and yellow sponge.

"Please, honey."
Jim didn't look at his mom, and spoke flatly to get it over with. "We did worksheets."
"What subject?"
Jim rolled his eyes. "Does it matter? It's work."
"What. Subject?"
Jim threw his hands in the air. "Math! Math, Mom! Are you frickin' satisfied now? Math, English, Social Studies, whatever else they teach us, they give us work, I do my work, I do my homework, I do chores, all I ask is for you to please leave me alone!"

Sarah just stared at her son for a long time.
"Mom," said Jim.

She didn't say a word, just turned to leave.

"Mom, wait, I need to tell you something."
"I just asked you something, didn't I, James?" his mother shot back. "Did you answer me in the way I wanted you to? Do I have to press you every single day for a simple answer?"
Jim lost control. "Mom, LISTEN TO ME!"

Sarah was once again completely taken aback.

Jim closed his eyes. "Please, Mom, listen to me."
Sarah threw down her green dish towel. "For heaven's sake, Jim, tell me!"
Jim swallowed. "Dad's outside."
Sarah gasped, slapped a hand to her chest. "Your father? He's here? At the Benbow? Or at the park? Maybe he's just golfing or running or something with a buddy—"
"He's outside our door. He's waiting to come in, but he's hesitating."
"But on such short notice? He would never. I told him to never—"

Irritated, Jim continued to squirt dishsoap into the sink. "Well, he didn't listen did he? And it wasn't exactly short notice."
Sarah frowned. "What do you mean?"
"He sent me an email a few nights ago. I told him not to come, but apparently my viewpoint isn't appreciated around here."
Sarah sighed and removed her apron. "Let me go open the door."
Jim grabbed her arm with soapy hands. "Mom, no!"
Sarah bit her lip. "No?" she seemed to be contemplating.

Jim shook his head rapidly. "He'll start a fight. And then I'll end it."
Sarah pulled away. "James Pleiades Hawkins, you will do no such thing. I'm going to go answer the door. It's not like it's a mass murderer standing at our doorstep. It's your father."
"Same thing."
"Jim."
Jim averted his eyes and switched topics. "My friend Ariel is coming over today to talk to me about something. She wants a pay raise."
Sarah slapped her skirt. "Honestly, those Triton girls! She only just started working here!"
Jim rolled his eyes. "Apparently, she has a worthy excuse. She's coming over to tell me."
Sarah sighed. "I'll consider it—after I hear her excuse. Let me go answer the door. I'll be right back, Jim."
Jim began to wash dishes and think of things that happened at school. Peter Tremaine seemed pretty angry. He was a light, funny dude when Jim had first met him. What had happened? It was like high school had transformed him into some dark scary man.

"He's in here." His mother's voice jolted him back into reality.

Jim didn't turn around, only made his face stone.

"Hi, son."
Jim turned around slowly, picking up a pile of dishes out of the sink to bring to the drying rack.

There stood an exact older version of him. With a goatee and a thin mustache and a neat crop of brown hair with a red bandanna over it. He carried that rainforest green suitcase, the same one he had carried when leaving when Jim was eight.

It was like Jim was peeking into the future to see what he would look like when he was older.

He dropped the dishes.

The crash made him remember where he was standing, and he bent down to gather them up.

Sinbad Hawkins chuckled. "Looks like seeing his old man made him scaredy, eh, Sarah?"
Sarah didn't say anything, just marched forward and grabbed the dustpan.

"Let's look at you, Jimmy," said Sinbad.
"It's Jim," he growled, tensing.

"Don't, Jim!" Sarah hissed, sweeping up the plate shards into a blue dustpan.

Sinbad tilted his head. "Huh. You got taller."

"What, Dad," Jim said innocently. "Did you think I was gonna stay 4 feet tall forever?"
Sinbad gave him a tiny grin. "Kid, you got pluck, you know that? And, holy crap, you got an earring! Isn't that some shi—"

"Sinbad," said Sarah calmly. "You'll have to clean up your language as long as you're under my roof."
"My bad," said Sinbad, winking at Jim. Jim looked away.

"You got a girlfriend, son?" Sinbad demanded.
Jim looked back at Sinbad, a challenge in his eyes. "Do you?"

"Just as I thought!" Sinbad laughed mockingly. "You don't have the guts to ask a girl out."
Guts? "Says the man who walked out on his family," Jim shot back.

Sinbad smiled, but it wasn't a cheerful smile. There was anger to it. Sarah gestured to Sinbad. "Can you go wait in that room? I have to talk to Jim. Privately."
Sinbad scooted out of the kitchen.

Sarah grabbed Jim's arm. "Don't you dare make him angry, Jim. I want you to be good to that man for as long as he is staying here. Be polite."

"Like hell I will."
Sarah rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "Stop the innappropriate language."

"It's his fault. He has no right to poke around in my sh—"

"James Pleiades Hawkins. I said enough of the foul language."

She held a note of warning in her voice, and Jim shut up.

"Go to your room." Sarah's voice was even, controlled. "You are to stay there until Ariel is here. Then only you may come down. You must ask my permission to go out, and to come downstairs for the time being."
"You can't—why?!"
Sarah closed her eyes. "Because I say so."
Jim began to clomp up the stairs. "While I'm at it, why don't I ask you for permission to breathe too."

Jim didn't look back.

Sarah assumed it was because he was angry.

But it was because Jim couldn't bear to see her face for fear of the guilt that would attack him soon afterward.

He woke when he heard a crash.

It was around 6 in the evening, and totally panicked, Jim got out of bed, opening his door. Forgetting his promise to stay upstairs unless she said so, he ran downstairs. "Mom?" he called.

There was no reply, but there was another crash.

"Mom!" Jim yelled at the top of his lungs.

He ran into the dining room to find his mother on the floor, a cabinet knocked over, a dent in the side, several plates broken.

"What the hell?!" Also forgetting his mother's warning about the foul language, Jim raced to his mom's side. "Did you fall?"
Wincing, Sarah sat up slowly. Jim saw a bruise under her eye, at the top part of her cheek. Jim ran his fingers over it, and Sarah bit her lip, sustaining a cry of pain.

Jim stood up. "That bas—"

"You promised, Jim. Nothing stupid, no foul language!" Sarah cried on the ground.

Jim pulled her to her feet, and she put a hand on her thighs. "Ouch."
"Where is he?"
"Jim—"
"Where did that sonofa—"

"Right here."

Sinbad stood up, holding a bottle of whiskey. He had only drunk some, but his steps were staggered.

"Come on, Sarah, let's dance again," Sinbad drawled, pushing Sarah up against the wall, his arm under her throat. Sarah's face turned red, then slowly blue as Jim realized she was being choked to death right before his eyes.

"DON'T TOUCH HER!" Jim shoved Sinbad hard. He fell and rolled over the cabinet.

Sinbad stood up. "Who the hell are you to tell me what I can and can't do? Don't you touch me, you little nothing! I can get you sent to juvenile hall like I always wanted to!"

"I don't give a crap about anything you say!" Jim shouted. "All I'm gonna tell you is, you touch my mom again, you're gonna wish you never even came back! You understand?"
"Boy, you can't do anything," Sinbad hissed, grabbing Jim's arms.

Jim pulled away. "I can do whatever I want. This is my home."
"It was my home first."
"You left! And when you left, it became mine. Mine and Mom's! You no longer belong here, you have no right here. You are pretty much intruding this house. And I can call the cops, they can haul you off to jail. And no one in the world will CARE!" Jim screamed, shoving Sinbad into the wall again. "How could you do this to her? The one person who actually cared about you, and here you are strangling her! If anyone deserves anything it's Mom!"
"I own you, boy," Sinbad whispered, standing up. "I can murder you. And your mother. No one would know."
"Don't make promises you can't keep," Jim said in a threatening voice. "Because they'll turn right around and kill you."

Sinbad's voice became very low. "Is that a threat, boy? You threatening me?"
"If I am, you gonna do something about it?"
Sinbad pushed Jim to the floor and kicked him in the ribs. Jim grabbed a piece of plate and hurled it at his father.

"Jim, NO!" shrieked Sarah.

It cut Sinbad near the cheek, and he cried out in pain. He began to run out of the dining room. "I'M CALLING THE COPS, BOY! DO YOU HEAR ME? I'M CALLING THE COPS! SARAH! YOUR BOY'S GOING TO JAIL! HE'S A GOOD FOR NOTHING LOSER!"

"I get it from you," Jim retorted. "I wish you weren't my dad."
He bent down and wrapped his arms around his mother. "You okay?"

Sarah nodded over and over again. "Jim, I want him gone. I want him gone." She began to cry. "I want him gone. He can't be here anymore, Jim. Please, make him leave. I want him gone."
Jim nodded. "He's gone. I'll kick him out."
"Don't get hurt.
"I won't."
Jim stormed out—just as the doorbell rang.

He opened it to see Ariel standing there. She looked down at her shoes, and then spotted Jim's face.

"Is this a bad time?" she asked. "You look kind of angry."
"It's fine," Jim snapped. "You coming in?"
"Actually, I'm in a hurry," Ariel said. "So I wrote it all down on a piece of paper. Please read it, and give it to your mom when done. Okay?"
Jim nodded. "Okay."
Ariel flashed him a sexy Triton-girl smile. "I appreciate it, Jim."
Sinbad appeared behind Jim. "This your girlfriend?"
Ariel blushed. "You must be Jim's dad! Nice to meet you, sir." She turned to Jim. "You look just like your father."
Jim glared at Ariel. "No, I don't."
Ariel blinked, confused. "Okay, you don't."
"This your girlfriend?" Sinbad asked again.

"No," Jim said, through gritted teeth. "Ariel is a waittress. She works with me. At the Benbow."
Sinbad smiled at her. Jim gritted his teeth again. "Please just go, Ariel. I'll see you tomorrow at school."

Ariel turned around, still confused. "Okay, Jim. I'll…see you tomorrow. Read the letter."
Suddenly, in one swift movement, Sinbad snatched the letter. "What's this, some kind of love letter? The freaking outpouring of her heart? Let's see, Jimmy."
"Dad, no!" Jim reached for it, and Ariel gasped as she turned.

Sinbad cleared his throat, holding it out of Jim's reach. " 'Dear Jim and Mrs. Hawkins,'" he read in a falsetto. " 'I know it is of very short notice, asking for a pay raise. But it's a family emergency, and I'm sure you will understand when I tell you. See, to put it in the most civilized words possible, my sister is…pregnant right now, and would like to move to a different location somewhere in the city so she can live separate from our family with her boyfriend. The extra money is to fund her new home.' Well, isn't that just peachy! Underage pregnancies are just fun!"

Ariel looked horrified, and Jim saw she was almost crying.

Jim shook his head. "Ariel. I'm so sorry. He's so…he's such a—"

"See you tomorrow," whispered Ariel, and fled.

Jim snatched back the letter, and murmured, "Go to hell," in his father's direction, but he was too busy walking down the street away from the Benbow, as if he had never come to visit.

Bingo.

-Rhimes

The sargeants searched.

And they searched.

They searched the Triton girls' home.

The Tremaine house.

The Saint, Vitani Damigo's father's bar.

The Snuggly Duckling.

And last but not least—taking Pan's warning—the Benbow.

Rhimes was sitting at his desk in the New York City Police Department Office, smoking a cigarette, crumbling a pack of Royal Gold pretzels, when Deputy Leonard Robinson came in.

"Officer?" he whispered.

Rhimes raised his head.

"We found it."
Rhimes got up and ran to Deputy Robinson. "You did? Where was it? Who stole it?"
"We found it at the Benbow, sir."

Rhimes gasped. "So that means…."
"Yes, sir. The Crystal Thief is—"

Rhimes smiled, but it most defenitely was not a good one.
"Jim Hawkins."