A/N: Thank you all so much for the sweet words about my story. The writing I do for a living is not nearly as fun as this. I appreciate everyone's taking the time to read and especially to leave a review.

An hour and a half later, Michael and Charlie were finally on their way. After Michael had buckled Charlie into his car seat but before he'd made it back to the driver's seat, Charlie had fallen asleep. So both guys had taken a good nap in the car. Fiona had seen them through the window and come out to check on them. She'd quickly figured out what was going on. Much as she'd wanted to nap herself, she wasn't willing to leave Michael and Charlie unguarded. So she'd gotten her book, gotten a lawn chair, and gotten comfy in the driveway to keep an eye on her boys. Michael had woken up when a dog barked down the street. A few moments later, he'd seen Fi on sentry duty. He'd instantly understood what she was doing, and he'd smiled as a deep sigh of contentment escaped his nose. He'd gotten out of the car as quietly as he could, then gone to her.

"Good morning, sleepy."

"Hey. How long have we been out?"

"About 90 minutes. You feel better?"

"Yeah, I do. Did you sleep?"

Fiona had just smiled.

Michael had crooked his arm around her neck. "Thank you, Fi. Really." Then he'd looked at his watch, and to Charlie, and back to Fiona, and said, "I think we'll still go. We'll find something. We'll be back in a couple of hours and then we can figure out dinner. Get some sleep, okay?"

And after they'd shared some I'm-not-mad-anymore kisses, back to the car he'd gone.

Sam and Jesse were already waiting in the parking lot of the playground when Michael pulled in. He'd texted them and asked them to meet him and Charlie there rather than at the house. Michael parked and got out.

"Do you realize how ridiculous we look here, Mike?" asked Jesse. "Two grown men, at a playground, without a kid. I'm surprised we didn't get arrested."

"Hello to you, too, Jesse," Michael said, opening Charlie's door. Charlie had woken up shortly after they'd left the house, blinked a couple of times, and started talking again without missing a beat. About Edward. Michael had finally listened carefully and was slowly piecing together Edward and Thomas and the whole train gang. It was just like learning a new language, and he'd done that plenty of times.

"Charlie, look who's here," Michael said, unbuckling Charlie and then quickly jumping out of the way when Charlie leapt from his seat.

Charlie saw Sam and Jesse and burst into a huge grin. Never stopped moving, though. Sam and Jesse took off after him. Michael sighed and smiled, relieved that someone else would run for him.

"Woah, there, Speed Racer," said Sam, grabbing Charlie from behind when they caught up with him. "Whaddya say Uncle Sam carries you the rest of the way, okay, buddy?"

"Go fasht, Uncuh Sam!" Charlie yelled. Right next to Sam's ear.

"Charlie, friend, this is as fast as Uncle Sam goes these days. You'll understand in about 50 years. Oooh, but I bet Uncle Jesse could go really fast!" Sam grinned, about to hand Charlie off to Jesse.

"Don't even think about it, Sam," Jesse warned. "Not after this afternoon."

"What happened this afternoon?" Michael asked, suddenly realizing this probably had everything to do with Neal.

"Hey, fair's fair," Sam shot back to Jesse. "We flipped a coin. It's not my fault the guy had a panic attack."

Yep. Neal.

"Tell me," Michael said, his face buried in his hands.

"Okay, so, we were doin' some basic interrogation with them like you said," began Sam. "They were all supposed to pick a cover so they'd know what to say when we started askin' 'em questions. And we told 'em, 'pick something you know.'"

By this time they'd arrived at the play equipment. Charlie took off to the monkey bars. His three spotters followed slowly.

"So everybody picks something they know about. Like, Kathryn the engineer picked engineer. That Clint guy picked doctor 'cause he's, y'know, a doctor," Sam explained.

"What did Neal pick?" Michael asked quietly, really not wanting to know the answer.

"King," Jesse announced.

"King?"

"King."

"King of what?"

"Tonga."

"King of Tonga," Michael repeated. "Tonga already has a king."

"I know, Mike," said Jesse.

"He's Polynesian," Michael added.

"Yep, I'd imagine he is," Sam agreed.

"Neal isn't Polynesian," said Michael.

"Right again."

Suddenly, Charlie's loud cry filled the air. "I tuck! Uncuh Micuh, I tuck!" He had made it across two monkey bars, and now it appeared his little arms couldn't hold his weight. Michael ran over and grabbed him around his middle, putting him down gently on the ground. "Okay, Charlie, there you go." Charlie trotted out from under the monkey bars, deciding where to go next.

"He said he was king. Of Tonga," Michael said slowly, still not totally believing it.

"Said he was King of Tonga, Mike," Jesse confirmed. "The guy so blonde he looks Aryan said he was King of Tonga."

"Okay, so, what then?"

"Well, I mean, we had to go with what he picked, right?" said Jesse. "So I took out my phone and Googled him and showed Neal all the pictures of the King of Tonga. King Tupou the Sixth," Jesse enunciated slowly.

"And?" probed Michael.

"And he said that guy was an imposter," Jesse told him.

"An imposter," Michael repeated.

"Said it was sour grapes 'cause the Tongans had decided to go another way and name a white guy as king and this guy was just pissed," explained Jesse.

"Was he high?" Michael wondered.

"Not as far as we can tell, Mike," Sam said. "But believe me, we did ask."

"So wh – "

"UNCUH MICUH, I TUCK UNCUH MICUH," wailed Charlie. From the second monkey bar.

Michael returned to his nephew, holding him around his midsection. "Charlie, why would you go back on the monkey bars when you just got stuck?"

"I like money bahs!"

"Yes, I can see that you like the monkey bars, but you can't do the monkey bars. That's the problem, Charlie."

"I do money bahs!"

"Well, no, actually, you don't do monkey bars, Charlie. That's what I'm telling you. Listen, I'm going to help you off, but don't climb back up here again. You got it?"

"Okay, I goddit."

Michael watched him scamper off. He started formulating his plan for when Charlie mounted the monkey bars a third time.

"So. Neal," Michael said, inviting Sam and Jesse to finish the story.

"Yeah, so, I wasn't exactly prepared to go head to head with this freak on the details of the Tongan monarchy, so I just told him he was full of shit," Jesse replied. "And then he started hyperventilating."

Michael leaned his head all the way back, whispering something to himself.

"And we could all see him on the monitor," Sam interjected, "so I ran in there to help. And you know how you're supposed to say reassuring stuff, right? So I just told him he wasn't gonna die and of course he's the King of Tonga and stuff like that."

Michael watched as Charlie started to climb the ladder to the monkey bars. "Jesus, it's like rewinding Neal 25 years," he said to his friends. "CHARLIE," he said sternly. "WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING."

Charlie looked at him sheepishly and got off.

"Hey, Charlie, you want me to help you?" Jesse offered. "You want me to help you do the monkey bars?"

"Yah yah yah!"

"Okay, you climb up and I'll help you when you get up there."

Charlie ascended the ladder, leaned forward to the first bar, and released his feet. He swung himself madly and managed to move to the second bar. He tried for the third, but couldn't do it. Jesse held on to his waist to relieve the weight on Charlie's arms. Charlie moved forward a bar, then another.

"LEGGO ESSEY," Charlie shouted. "Essey" was what he preferred to Uncle Jesse.

"Wait, I thought you wanted my help," Jesse said.

"LEGGO ESSEY. I DO MYSEFF."

Jesse let go.

Charlie dangled.

"AHHHHHHHH! ESSEY!"

Jesse grabbed his waist.

And this went on until Charlie reached the end of the bars.

"Between Neal and Charlie," Jesse said to Michael, lifting Charlie off the equipment and onto his shoulders, "you're buying me dinner."

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