The phone rang during supper that evening. Lisa put down her fork and knife and slid out of her chair. "Excuse me," she said. Everyone's eyes followed her as she walked into the next room.

"Who could be calling at this hour?" Bill wondered aloud.

"Telemarketers," said Fly, his mouth full of Salisbury steak with gravy. Sasha was in the tank with him, tapping her nose against the clumps of peas and carrots. Since getting Sasha, the family had not yet consulted Professor MacKrill about what a seahorse could eat, so they decided to feed her vegetables for the time being.

"Come on, Sasha, eat your veggies. They're good for you," said Stella. She turned to Bill. "Daddy, why won't she eat them?"

"Maybe she doesn't know it's food," Bill said. "They don't have peas and carrots under the sea."

Stella looked pleadingly at her seahorse friend. "You have to eat, Sasha! Or else, you won't get dessert."

This elicited chuckles from her father, while Fly only grinned. Having Sasha somewhat changed the dynamic of the household. She was like a family pet—well, maybe to Mom and Dad, but Fly and Stella knew better. Sasha felt like an additional member, like a sibling but less sentient. Something between a pet and a sibling. Heck, Fly couldn't describe what it was.

Fly's ears picked up his mother's voice in the other room. "No, he isn't here," she said, her tone confused and worried. Then she gasped, "What!"

Fly tried listening harder. After a pause, Lisa continued, "Have you called the police?...Okay, okay…Look, I know they weren't helpful last time, but at least give them a call…Yes, we'll look for him…Of course…Love you. Bye."

Lisa returned briskly to the dining room, looking distressed.

"Who was that?" asked Bill, noting his wife's mood and rising from the table.

"Anna," said Lisa. "Chuck's gone missing."

Fly nearly choked on his bite of meat.

"Missing?" Now Bill was beginning to look worried. "What else did she say?"

Lisa heaved a sigh. "She told me her house was empty when she got home from work. Chuck had left a note saying he was coming over here. She was having a panic attack over the phone."

"I can only imagine," muttered Bill. He paced over to the coat closet to grab his jacket. "Any idea when he might've left?" he pressed.

Lisa shook her head. "He could've left hours ago for all we know." She went back to the telephone. "I'll call the police. You get Fly and Stella in the car."

Once the jacket was on, Bill grabbed MacKrill's fishbowl and transferred Fly and Sasha into it. Fly heard his dad mumble, "This again."

"Where are we going?" asked Stella while Bill grabbed her hand and guided her from her chair to the front door.

Bill answered, trying not to sound too panicked. "Your cousin Chuck was supposed to come over, but we think he might've gotten lost, so we're going to look for him."

"Chuck's coming back?" Stella's eyes brightened and her smile widened. She threw up her arms in a cheer. "Yay!"

Fly smirked. It was amusing to hear his sister express excitement about their cousin. Before the fish potion incident occurred, she, like Fly, had little interest whenever they visited Aunt Anna and Chuck. She was usually very sweet and accepting, but understandably didn't take to them very well. Except now, apparently.

Then again, Fly realized he felt the same. He was happy to know that Chuck was finally making some sort of contact. Coming over here, in fact! This was good news. Now Fly could find out what the heck was going on.

But concern lingered in his mind. He'd gone missing? He hoped it wasn't the kind of missing where he was kidnapped. Or mugged and left for dead. Maybe Chuck was fine, and Aunt Anna was just overreacting like she usually did. Yeah, that had to be it.

But still, he thought, swallowing a lump in his throat. He couldn't ignore the whispering possibilities in the back of his mind.

Stella was buckled into her car seat and given the fish bowl to hold. As Bill entered the driver's seat, Lisa came running out.

"Just as I was about to dial the police, Chuck called!" she exclaimed.

Fly relaxed. Chuck was okay. But what the heck was he doing, leaving his house unexpectedly with nothing but a note? Fly learned firsthand that doing that never ended well (although, to be fair, he never bothered with a note himself). He didn't take Chuck to be that reckless.

He smiled. Good for you, Chuck.

"Where is he now?" Bill asked while Lisa climbed into the passenger seat.

"He's at the bus station outside our neighborhood. He needs to be picked up," said Lisa, sounding calmer now.

Bill breathed a sigh of relief, too. "Oh, good." He buckled his seatbelt and started up the car.

The drive over only took about two minutes. The bus station was close enough that Chuck could have just walked. Fly spotted his larger, bespectacled cousin standing outside as his parents pulled up in the pickup area. The large duffel bag sitting beside his feet was the only explanation for why he needed a ride.

The parents climbed out and rushed toward their nephew. "Hey, Chuck!" said Bill. "It's good to see you again!"

"Hey, Uncle Bill. Aunt Lisa," Chuck responded flatly, which belied the small smile he wore.

Lisa wrapped her arms around him. "Oh, Chuck, we were so worried! You know you're welcome at our home anytime, but why didn't you tell your mother you were going to leave?"

Chuck shrugged. "No time. I had to get here as soon as possible. This is about Fly."

"He's in the car," said Lisa. "Here, we'll get your bag. Why don't you get in."

The side door to the left of Stella's seat opened, and Chuck climbed in. Bill took the duffel bag and loaded it into the trunk. Now that Chuck was close enough, Fly could make out the details of his face. The bags under his eyes had gotten worse than when Fly had last seen them, and now the eyes themselves were strained with thick red veins. Chuck's skin seemed paler, his hair wildly disheveled, his suit wrinkled, and his tie looser. Even in the water, Fly could catch a whiff of an odor that suggested Chuck hadn't seen a shower in over a week.

"Chuck! Chuck!" Stella exclaimed, her face bright. "Guess what? Sasha came back! She wants to say 'hi' to you!"

Chuck glanced over at the girl, his bloodshot eyes staring vaguely at the fishbowl. The corners of his mouth lifted subtly. "Hello, Sasha. It's been a while."

Upon seeing Chuck, the seahorse wagged her curly tail, happy now that she had reunited with all three of her friends from beneath the sea.

He was now puzzled. "But how? How did you get her back?"

"Fly did!" Stella said proudly.

Chuck's eyes now snapped over to the Californian Flyfish. Fly shrugged with a grin. "I had to make myself useful somehow."

"Your fins," Chuck said pointedly, raising his eyebrows. "What were you doing, Fly?"

"Oh, this?" Fly said, swishing his shredded tail back and forth. "Don't worry about it. What about you? You look like a zombie."

Chuck shot Fly a look of disapproval. "For your information, I've been spending the last few weeks trying to analyze Professor MacKrill's fish potion formula. I've had a much easier time with quantum physics than this."

Fly couldn't say one way or another but took his cousin's word for it. "Did you find out anything?"

"Nothing definitive, but I have a hypothesis." Chuck shifted his glasses. "MacKrill's fish potion consists of underwater ingredients. I figured, what if we used something from a human? A piece of human DNA?"

That idea had never occurred to Fly before. A tiny glimmer of something—was it hope?—was beginning to take shape. Finally, something he could hold onto. "You think it'll work?"

"I don't know," Chuck admitted. "I have to see the professor again and discuss it with him."

"I think he's coming over the day after tomorrow," Lisa said. "For Fly's weekly checkup."

Chuck looked at his aunt, shaking his head. "It can't wait until then. I need to see him as soon as possible. Tonight."

"Chuck, how about we get you settled in first before you talk about leaving the house again," said Bill wearily.

The boy looked down, reluctance in his voice. "Sure."

The car was now coming to a stop. They were home now. After everything was unloaded out of the car and everyone was back inside, Lisa went immediately to the phone to call Anna.

"Chuck is with us now. He's safe," she said. There was a pause. "Of course! He's right here." She turned to Chuck, who was beginning to unzip his duffel bag. She handed him the receiver. "Your mom wants to talk to you."

Heaving a sigh, Chuck pressed the phone to his ear. "Look, sorry, Mom, but it couldn't wait…I told you I wanted to see Fly…I'm fine, Mom. You don't have to worry about me…"

As the conversation continued, Fly and Sasha were placed back in their tank in the dining room. Bill sat Stella back at the dinner table while Lisa remained with Chuck. As he ate, Fly kept listening to the phone call in the other room.

His mother was speaking again. "I'm really sorry about this, Anna…Of course! Chuck is always welcome. He can stay for as long as he likes…Fly? He's doing fine, actually…Oh no, Anna…Anna, don't! You couldn't have known. He doesn't blame you…"

Fly hadn't thought about how his aunt was taking this whole situation. Was she blaming herself for what happened to Fly? Did she lose sleep over it as he did? Or his parents? Or Chuck?

As if on cue, his cousin suddenly entered the dining room, a cotton swab held between his two fingers. "Here, Fly. I need to get a sample from you."

"A sample of what?" asked Fly.

"Anything." Chuck hovered over the tank, dangling the cotton swab above the water. "Open your mouth. Say, 'Aah."

Fly cocked a brow at his cousin. "Wait…now?"

"Open your mouth, Fly!"

With a groan, Fly obeyed Chuck's instructions, sticking his head above the water. He felt like he was in the doctor's office getting an examination. What he did not anticipate, however, was for the cotton swab to jam inside his mouth like a cue stick hitting a billiard ball.

He recoiled in pain. "Ow! Chuck!"

"Sorry," said Chuck. "I'll try that again."

This time, he inserted the cotton swab more carefully. "Get as much saliva on it as you can," he instructed. Fly felt weird having that thing stuffed in his mouth and having to bite down and drool on it. After obtaining the required amount of sample, Chuck sealed the cotton swab in a plastic bag. "Now to analyze," he muttered almost under his breath. Out loud, he told his cousin, "I'll need something containing your DNA. From when you were a human, I mean."

Before Fly could say anything, Lisa had returned to the room. "Chuck, why don't you have something to eat? We have Salisbury steak and some vegetables. Or we could reheat a few leftovers from the fridge if you'd rather have something else."

Chuck gave his aunt a weary look that was meant to convey gratitude. "Maybe later," he said. "Is there a place I can set my equipment?"

"Here, Chuck," said Lisa, gesturing to her nephew to follow her up the stairs. "You can sleep in Fly's room tonight. There's a bed. I just had the sheets washed."

Chuck nodded. "Thanks, Aunt Lisa."

As the two were about to leave the dining room for the stairs, Chuck stopped. "Wait. I'm going to need Fly to come with me."

After placing Fly in the fishbowl, the three went to Fly's bedroom. Lisa flipped the light switch, revealing the scattered toys and boxes on the floor. "Excuse the mess. We haven't gotten around to cleaning up in here," she told Chuck, sounding slightly embarrassed of a room that was clearly inhabited by a teenage boy. Fly shot a disgruntled look at his mother, but she wasn't looking his way.

"It's fine," said Chuck, assuring Lisa that that was the least of his worries.

The duffel bag was set down beside Fly's bed. As Chuck worked on clearing the stuff off of Fly's desk and replacing it with his own, Lisa poured Fly into his tank. "Is there anything else you boys need?" she asked.

Both boys answered, "No."

"Okay, I'll leave you two for the night. Chuck, you know where the bathroom is. I have soap and shampoo stocked and some towels for when you need to shower."

Chuck thanked his aunt. When the good-nights were exchanged, Lisa gently closed the door. In no time at all, Fly's desk had transformed into a mini biology lab. Arranged neatly before Fly were a microscope, glass slides in a protective case, pipettes, plastic cylinder-shaped containers, Chuck's laptop, plastic baggies, and other items he could not identify. Fly wasn't sure how he felt about this takeover.

"So," Fly said, breaking the silence. "What's your plan now?"

His question went unheard. Chuck was roaming around the room, peering into the laundry hamper and then the small wastebasket by the door, shaking his head in dismay.

"Uh, Chuck?" the fish asked.

"I need something…" He sounded like he was muttering to himself more than he was responding to Fly. "You must have some dirty laundry…or chewed gum…"

Oh right, the sample for human DNA, Fly remembered. If his memory served, he saw his mom go through his room, washing his bedding and dirty clothes. She might've also emptied the trash. Then again, he hadn't exactly paid attention. If that were the case, then what was something Chuck could use? Where would Fly have left traces of himself that weren't scrubbed clean?

While Fly was pondering this, Chuck was already rummaging through Fly's drawers, extracting some articles of clothing.

"What are you doing?" Fly asked. His face twisted into an expression of unease as he realized something. "Wait a minute! Are you digging through my underwear?"

"It's the most logical place to look," Chuck explained, not sounding at all fazed. "When searching for genetic material, you want something containing residue of bodily excretion."

Fly winced. "That's gross. And really weird. Can we do something else?"

"Do you want to be human or not?" Chuck said impatiently.

"Obviously," retorted Fly. "But there has to be something else."

Chuck rolled his eyes, folding the boxer shorts and returning them to the drawer. "What do you suggest then?"

"I don't know."

Chuck took deep breaths to compose himself. "Look, I need you to work with me. We don't have a lot of options. Gross or not, we need to get a sample."

Fly scoured his room, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You could check under the bed. I bet you could find something. My mom never looks under there."

His cousin immediately got down on his knees and looked under Fly's bed. He grimaced. "I'm starting to see why," he said, pulling out a handful of candy wrappers. "Seriously, Fly, don't you ever throw anything away?"

The Californian Flyfish gave a nonchalant shrug. "I guess I forgot."

"Hold on. Maybe this will work!" Chuck pulled out an old, worn baseball glove from under the bed.

When Fly saw the glove, he slapped a fin against his forehead. "So that's where it went! All this time I thought I gave it to Lukas and never got it back." He rubbed the side of his head awkwardly. "I think I owe him an apology."

Chuck frowned. "You mean you have loaned it to others?"

"Yeah, a few times," Fly replied. "Although I should probably stop doing that. Everytime I do, they always lose my stuff."

His cousin tossed the item onto the floor. "Then it's no good. It needs to have just your DNA."

The search continued, making Fly's room even messier than it had been before. Fly watched with glazed eyes as Chuck scurried around the room, haphazardly searching through each pile of things. Fly couldn't help but notice the feral look in his cousin's eyes, which made his stomach drop slightly. "Chuck, you know I wasn't joking when I said you look like a zombie," he remarked aloud.

Chuck was pulling things out of Fly's closet, stacking boxes of model kits on the floor. "What's your point?" he said, not looking at Fly.

"My point is get some sleep," said Fly. "You can do all this tomorrow."

"I'm fine, Fly," Chuck replied, his voice laced with annoyance. "Don't worry about me. You're the one in trouble."

Fly shook his head. "I'm going to be honest with you, you're acting crazy. It's a little scary."

Chuck threw Fly an exasperated glare. "I'm trying to help you, and this is what I get in response! Do you even care? It's like you want to stay a fish!"

"I don't!" Fly snapped back. "But even I know when to take a break. You're not thinking straight, Chuck. You want to sample my underwear!"

"I already explained it to you. The residue contains—"

"No! Just stop! That's exactly what I mean!" Fly gave Chuck a stern look. "Just go to bed! Put on your pajamas, brush your teeth—or don't, I don't care. Go to bed! I promise I'll still be here in the morning."

Fly couldn't believe he was talking this way. He was starting to sound like his parents. Maybe he needed some sleep himself. He was tired. Tired of dealing with stuff like this. It's not that Fly didn't appreciate Chuck's efforts, but he had to admit his cousin was being a little…obsessive. It was weird, even for Fly, whose own determination was unparalleled.

But I at least sleep. Fly wrinkled his nose. And shower.

And now Chuck was staring at the fish, his eyes lit up. "Brush your teeth…" he muttered. "Of course! Your toothbrush!"

"What about my toothbrush?" demanded Fly.

But Chuck had already sprinted out of the bedroom. Fly waited for a few seconds before his cousin returned with a toothbrush sealed in a plastic baggie. "Why didn't I think of it before? This will be perfect. Thanks, Fly!"

Fly glanced downward, shrugging. "You're welcome, I guess." It was futile to try to persuade Chuck to sleep at that point.

Chuck sat at the desk, his samples in hand. He powered his laptop and started typing some things. Fly could only watch for a few minutes before getting bored. "So, Chuck?" he began, hoping to get some conversation. "Where did you get that computer anyway? Do you even play games on that thing?"

"Fly, I'm going to need you to be quiet," Chuck said bluntly, not taking his eyes off his project. "I'm trying to concentrate."

Fly frowned. He felt a slight jab in his chest but then dismissed it. "Whatever, I'm going to bed."

He got no response.

The fish swam into his little cave, lay on his belly, and rested his head on his fins. It would have been hard trying to sleep with the brightness of the lamp, but it turned out it didn't matter.

He dozed off out of boredom.