You Know I'd Always Come For You

Despite everything they had just been through, Michael and Tommy weren't quite ready to leave Australia. They had their new three-partner charter business to get up and running, via the newly christened Tiffany II, and Michael had promised Tommy a week in Paradise, just the two of them, and he intended to deliver. Michael's father and Tommy's mother, though reluctant, were packed onto separate flights back to the United States with souvenirs and frown lines, worries gently quieted by promises and reassurances, an abundance of hugs.

"I'll take care of Tommy," Michael solemnly promised his aunt.

"I know you will." She smiled and kissed his cheek. "You already have." Jules had heard all about the boys' island adventure, about how determinedly Michael had tried to look after her son, despite his utter ignorance about wilderness survival, and how fearlessly he had protected Tommy from the pirates. She embraced Tommy tightly one last time, as they called her flight for boarding at the gate. While he professed his love for her and showered her with reassurances that he would be fine – what were the chances, he argued, that something this dramatic could happen twice in one trip – she thought she noticed something strange in his eyes, and internally noted that he hadn't behaving quite like himself, even more quiet and reserved that usual.

After the purchase of Tiffany II, there was still enough reward money left over for an all-included week-long stay at a luxury, beach-side hotel. Tommy and Michael spent three glorious days touring the area, drinking in the sights and culture, shopping and dining, lounging by the pool, and launching their new charter business. In the evenings, after he had finished doing maintenance on the Tiffany or booking new charters as far as months in advance, Jake would join the cousins for a meal and some laughs, a bonfire on the beach and a few beers between friends. Already he was having difficulty imaging life Down Under without them, his American brothers.

The following day was a Sunday, and Michael suggested Jake take the day off and join them for some rest, relaxation, and fun on-land. Jake didn't need persuading. The three shared a magnificent brunch at the hotel, during which Michael forbade any talk of business or of a future away from Australia, away from each other, and then they spent the afternoon by the pool. The crystal blue waters clean and fresh, crocodile and fish-free. Jake and Michael were floating in inflatable loungers, drifting lazily in the warm Aussie sun, its golden rays kissing every contour of their lusciously tanned skin. Tommy was sitting on the side of the pool, clad in khaki shorts and a faded cerulean t-shirt, his legs dangling over the side.

As Jake drifted alongside Michael, he quietly commented, "Tommy's been pretty quiet lately, don't ya think? He hardly spoke at brunch."

Michael's brow creased in concern. "You noticed too, huh?"

Jake nodded. "And he's just been sitting there for the last hour. It's one of the hottest days of the season, he's at a luxury hotel pool in Australia, and he's just sitting there. He hasn't been in the water or even gone to the effort of putting on a swim suit, like he might come in. Is anything wrong?"

Michael considered Tommy. His younger cousin was staring at the ripples his feet made in the water's glassy surface, as he absently kicked his feet back and forth. Sweat beaded on his forehead and the base of his neck. Perspiration stains spotted his underarms. Why didn't he take the opportunity to cool down in the pool? "I'm not sure." Michael hated admitting it, especially to Jake; hated the idea that something could be bothering Tommy and he know nothing about it. Ever since his first stay at the ranch, when they had bonded and he had glimpsed, for the first time, what it would have been like to have a brother, he had always believed Tommy would him tell everything.

"Maybe he just needs a little encouragement," Jake suggested.

They used their hands to paddle over to Tommy. "Hey guys. What's up?" the boy asked, pasting a smile on his face. Michael would have thought it was real, if he hadn't seen the troubled look in Tommy's hazel eyes just a moment before.

"Why don't you come in and join us?" Michael invited. "You don't get to swim much like this back at the ranch, and," he winked, "you could use the practice."

"No thanks. I'm good."

"C'mon," Jake urged. "It has to be the hottest day since you've been here. Take off your shirt and jump in! You'll feel much better. The water's great."

"I'm alright."

"But you're just sitting there like a pile of," Michael looked for an adequate term, "lazy bones. You're on vacation! In Australia! Live a little!"

"I said 'no,' Michael." The smiled had disappeared.

"Suit yourself." Michael and Jake looked at each other, and a current of mutual understanding passed between them. An unspoken plan crossed Jake's mind at the same time it did Michael's, and Michael thought – not for the first time – that he and Jake were connected, like he had known him in another life.

Simultaneously, Michael and Jake both grabbed one of Tommy's wrists and yanked him into the water. There was a loud SPLASH as Tommy plunged below the surface, Michael and Jake falling off their flotation devices from the momentum and tumbling in after him. The three emerged soaked and spluttering. Jake and Michael were laughing, splashing water at each other playfully, and at Tommy as he planted his palms on the cement surface and hoisted himself out.

"Aw, come on, buddy!"

"Doesn't that feel so much better?"

Tommy stood up straight, towering above them; his lips twisted into a growl and red splotches appeared on either cheek. His hair and clothes dripped onto the warm stone below him, giving him the appearance of a drowned puppy. "I said NO!" Tommy yelled. Michael and Jake stopped their horseplay and stared at him.

"Tommy, man, I'm sorry. We-"

"You never take me seriously!"

"Listen, bud-"

"No! You listen! You never listen to me!" Tommy was shouting. Several hotel patrons turned their heads to watch the scene; a few had the decency to look away in cringed embarrassment, feigning disinterest.

"Tommy," Michael spoke calmly. "Please stop-"

"No, Michael! You stop! I'm so sick of everyone yelling at me all the time, directing their anger at me. If I feel like screaming, why shouldn't I do it? I'm tired of you pushing me around, ignoring me until it's convenient for you, doing whatever you want. I'm sick of you guys treating me like a little kid. I'm not a child anymore! I can make my own decisions, and I don't need you or anyone else bossing me around. If I said I didn't want to swim, then I didn't want to swim! I don't need anybody telling me what to do or how to do it! I can take care of myself! So just leave me alone!"

With this final declaration, Tommy turned abruptly on his heel and stormed into the hotel. Jake started to follow him, but Michael stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Let me talk to him first, okay?"

Jake nodded. "Okay. But maybe you should give him a couple minutes to cool down."

By his watch, Michael waited until the second hand had passed 12 exactly twice before going up to his room alone. Jake wished him good luck, and excused himself to return to the Tiffany, asking Michael to call him later to tell him how Tommy was and to either confirm or cancel their plans for supper. Michael felt a knot tightening in his stomach as the elevator ascended, bringing him closer and closer to another confrontation with his cousin.

They were sharing Room 504 – a deluxe suite with fully stocked mini-bar, an impressive bathroom, two king-sized beds, and a million-dollar view. Michael swiped his keycard swiftly, unlocking the door and stepping soundlessly into the room. Tommy was in the middle of dressing, a damp towel and chlorine-sodden clothes discarded in a puddle on the floor. A dry pair of denim shorts hung loosely on his hips, a clean t-shirt stretched over his elbows.

At Michael's appearance, Tommy hastily pulled the shirt over his head and torso. But he hadn't covered himself quickly enough. Michael had seen. He had seen the marks on his body that for days Tommy had kept hidden.

Michael crossed the room in three quick strides. Anger had evaporated from Tommy's face, blanched pale. "Michael-"

Michael took the corners of the fabric between his long fingers and lifted the shirt up. Michael's brows, initially knitted in confusion and shock, furrowed in rage, his face hardening as he inspected his cousin's exposed skin. Bruises painted Tommy's flesh in rainbows – purple and blue, red and yellow. Odd and lumpy shapes. Broken blood vessels like unwashed marker dots around blackened skin.

"Michael-"

He grabbed Tommy's shoulders and spun him around so he could examine his back. Just as bruised and broken, possibly worse. Scarlet welts slightly swollen, having already begun to heal. He could just make out the faded shape of a footprint. It was barely discernible, but the figure was unmistakable. A boot – the round red toe, the darker square of its heel.

Michael whirled Tommy around to face him. There were tears in his young cousin's eyes, sliding down his cheeks and mingling with the droplets from his wet hair. "Michael, please-"

"What happened? Who did this to you?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Tommy, you need to tell me what bastard-"

"I can't-"

Michael threw down his hands in frustration and paced the room. Tommy shrank away from him, from the murderous frenzy that had possessed him. Tommy was fearful he'd do something rash. "Tommy, this isn't something you can keep quiet about and hope just goes away. You need to tell me, so we can nail whoever did this to you. So the son of bitch can rot in some prison cell – after I've taught him a thing or two."

"It's fine. He's already-"

"-disgusts me that someone could do something like this to a kid. What kind of sick-"

Tommy's voice was soft but firm. "You're not listening to me again."

Michael halted his frantic motion and glanced at Tommy's face, drawn tight in sadness and pain. He remembered why he had come up in the first place, what Tommy had screamed down at the pool. He picked the wet clothes off the floor and put them in a hamper. He made Tommy sit on his bed, and he rubbed the towel over Tommy's head, used it to wipe the tear streaks from his face. Tommy silently allowed Michael to do this mothering, allowed him to re-examine his wounds, and obediently drank from the cup of water Michael brought him.

Michael sat on the edge of his own bed, facing Tommy, their knees only a couple feet apart, watching as he took small sips. He didn't know what to say, how to even begin. What could he say? How could he not have noticed? Not have perceived the agony Tommy must be feeling? "What happened?" he asked finally, quietly, treading lightly on dangerous ground. He had to know. He had to.

Silence. Then, softly, "Pirates."

The pieces clicked into place with sudden and startling clarity.

Michael, Tommy, and their captain Jake had been forced to jump ship to escape three especially nasty and greedy pirates, whose appetite for blood and violence was exceeded only by their lust for money. Combined with an appalling and frightening willingness to do whatever necessary to get it. Including kidnapping, even murder.

Following the flare Michael had ignorantly fired, the pirates had found them. Jake had spotted them first, and the three castaways made a mad-dash for their makeshift raft. Michael had commanded Tommy to put on a life-jacket. The boy wasn't a very strong swimmer, and even in the midst of his panic Michael had had the presence of mind to look out for Tommy in that way, to keep him from drowning.

But then they had been forced to abandon the raft, the female pirate shooting a flare gun recklessly in their direction. As they tread water, the pirates closing in, the seconds ticking down their doom, Michael had grappled with the clasps on Tommy's life vest. His fingers were wet and slippery; he couldn't undo the buckles.

"Michael, go. Please, just go," Tommy had pleaded. Begged him to flee, to leave, pushing him away, worried more for Michael's safety than his own.

Michael did it: he left Tommy behind.

He abandoned his cousin – him and Jake both, hiding inside an underwater cave, while the pirates closed in on Tommy, hauled the helpless buoy of a boy into their boat. A captive, trapped at sea, with no resources, no way to get help, no where to run or hide. Tommy was completely at their mercy.

An entire night had passed between Tommy's kidnapping on Day 10 and his rescue on Day 11. An entire night trapped on a modern-day pirate ship with heartless villains. An entire night Michael had laid awake worrying, mulling over his plan again and again, outlining every possible outcome and scenario. An entire night Michael realized he knew nothing about.

"That night on their boat, what did...what did they do to you, Tommy?" Michael was angry with himself for not asking earlier, for not considering the ramifications such a traumatic event could cause. Yet, he wasn't sure he really wanted to know the answer.

Tommy. Dear, sweet, caring, thoughtful, patient little Tommy. How could anybody hurt him? Why?

"I don't want to tell you."

"What? Why?" He thought the lines of communication were open, now he had uncovered Tommy's secret.

"It doesn't matter now. It's over; it happened. Please just forget about it, Michael. And then I can forget too."

Michael moved from his bed to sit beside Tommy, their sides touching. He carefully put an arm around his cousin's shoulders, painfully aware of the bruises concealed under cotton. "I know this is bothering you, but you need to talk about it, buddy. You can't keep it bottled up, or this will haunt you forever. Please, Tommy, talk to me. I need to know."

Tears fell silently from Tommy's eyes, flowing down his cheeks, trickling off the end of his nose, and splashing into his lap. Tommy sighed, and Michael gave him a reassuring squeeze. He wanted to tell his cousin, wanted to be able to share the painful memories with him, but he didn't think it would do any good. Michael was watching him expectantly, so, meekly and resolutely, Tommy told his story.

When Jake had first told him about pirates – and cannibals – the idea had seemed wonderfully romantic, like something out of an adventure movie. He imagined crews of quirky men with ironic nicknames reflecting their grotesque characteristics, ships with Jolly Roger flags and talk of "scurvy dogs" and Davy Jones' locker. He imagined scenes out of books like Treasure Island and Peter Pan.

But there was nothing cool or exciting about these pirates. They were a trio of cold, hard criminals, with nothing to lose and dollar signs flashing in their merciless eyes. It shocked and horrified him that real people could be so financially-motivated they didn't care who they hurt or how badly.

Frakes was the natural leader of the group, the plan-maker, the one calling all the shots. He was practical, cunning – and ruthless. He could just as easily throw someone to the sharks as he could toss a pebble into the ocean. He wasn't about to let anything or anyone stand in his way of a major payoff. He saw opportunity in Tommy, knowing they could exploit Michael's fraternal feelings, using Tommy as bait to lure his richer cousin.

Jonas was the only female member of the crew – the old superstition about having a woman on-board had apparently died out with the new century. If Tommy had expected to find in her any kind of empathy, tender feeling, or maternal instinct, he was sorely mistaken. She was nothing better than Frakes' lackey, the foot soldier for his dirty work. A common pickpocket and skilled in the use of firearms. She cared nothing for Tommy or Michael, indifferent to everything but her cut of the ransom money.

Dante was the one to fear. While the blond man could never be accused of possessing any quantity of intelligence, what he lacked in brains he made up for in brute strength, and an almost primal need to dominate over weaker prey. He was mean and cruel. He felt the most enjoyment when he was inflicting as much pain as possible. He figured if they had to hold Tommy, use him as bait, they should at least have some fun with him first, give Michael a reason to come running to the rescue.

The first couple hours of his captivity, despite the pirates' increasing frustrations that Micheal had alluded them and despite their threats against him, Tommy maintained a stony, unmovable silence. He sat still, staring at the island and the waves, refusing to acknowledge them with a single look. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing how scared he was.

Later, having given up on waiting for Michael and Jake to surface, the pirates sat around a table on deck, laughing and eating, triumphant in their success that day. Frakes was certain Michael would come after Tommy, and now they need only wait for the money to roll in. They were confident they had won. They forced Tommy to mop the deck. A Robert Louis Stevenson protagonist fulfilment Tommy could have done without. Suddenly Dante grabbed him roughly by the back of the neck, and hissed, "You're gonna scrub all the scum off that deck, aren't you, boy?" and then returned to their conversation, chuckling, without a pause. Tommy tried, he really did, to clean the deck spotless. But apparently his best efforts didn't meet their standards.

The first hit came that evening. Frakes commented the deck didn't look any cleaner than when he had started, and the next thing Tommy knew, Dante's hand connected with his cheek. "Didn't I tell you to clean that deck?" Dante grabbed him by the neck and threw Tommy to the floor. Tommy scrambled backwards against the side of the boat, cowering as Dante towered over him. It was the first time he had ever been slapped.

Tommy naively looked to Jonas and Frakes for help, as Dante reached toward him, grinning. Jonas yawned indifferently and lit a cigarette; Frakes smiled and shook his head, popping open a beer. He was familiar with how his partner got his kicks. Tommy knew he would receive no help from them.

Dante seemed intent on proving the truth in Frakes' earlier statement: "When they hear you screaming in pain, they'll come running. Trust me." Part of that confidence, Tommy now understood, was a brutality in Dante that he was about to witness firsthand. The pirate grabbed Tommy's bicep and hauled him up, only to throw him down the steps below-deck. Tommy landed with a crash and a painful thud that knocked all the air from his lungs. His vision swam momentarily. He tried to get up, but Dante's boot, huge and heavy, pushed him back down. Dante leaned down, putting all his weight into his foot. "Let's get started, shall we?"

He grabbed Tommy's hair and yanked him up, tossing him against the wall. Tommy tried to punch him, tried to defend himself, but Dante was strong and easily overpowered him. His fists connected with Tommy's body again and again, tender boyish skin unused to such ill treatment. The best Tommy could do was curl into defensive positions and do his best to sustain the blows.

Tommy refused to cry out. He bit down on his lip and sucked in each agonizing breath, trying to keep his screams inside. He didn't want any sounds of what was happening carried to the shore, didn't want Michael and Jake to hear and know what they couldn't stop. He didn't want to give Dante the satisfaction of his cries.

Dante quickly tired, bored by Tommy's endurance and silence. He was trying to get back at Michael with each hit, trying to make him pay for every hour they had wasted hunting him down, but the kid wasn't letting him have any enjoyment. This was not the reaction he had hoped for. Where was the weeping, the begging, the affirmation of his mastery and power? Stupid kid.

Dante found a thin, coarse length of rope in a cupboard, pulled Tommy up, and proceeded to bind his hands behind his back. Tommy couldn't help but wince as Dante tied him, the rope cutting into his wrists, and his sore arms and shoulders aching from the manhandling. Then, because it was completely unnecessary, its excessive-ness making it more fun, Dante shoved a rag between Tommy's teeth, and tied it behind his head, tighter than needed. Tommy made an involuntary whimper of protest, but it was muted and muffled. "Silence isn't as much fun when you're not able to talk, is it?" Dante gleefully sneered in his ear, satisfied that he had finally gotten the upper-hand. "Sure you don't wanna say a few words? Call out for help to that idiotic cousin of yours?" Dante laughed and pat Tommy's cheek. "Guess your mum probably taught ya never to talk to strangers. If pretty boy doesn't show up tomorrow, I'll have the pleasure of silencing you for good."

With this final fearsome promise, Dante shoved Tommy into a closet full of life-vests and other storage. "Night, night. Sleep tight, and sweet dreams." He gave the boy one last sadistic smile and shut the door, locking him inside the inescapable darkness.

There he remained all night – the longest of his life – struggling futilely against his bonds and trying to work free the gag with his tongue. He soon realized it was useless and, closing his eyes against the sounds of the pirates' snoring and the blackness of his prison, Tommy drifted into a restless slumber, plagued by nightmares of blood and death, while on the beach Michael endured a sleepless night, thinking of Tommy.

In the morning, Dante retrieved Tommy from the closet at Frakes' orders and unbound him. Frakes was working on a way to get Michael's attention, trying to get Tommy to spill the location of their camp, when Jonas spotted Michael on the beach, saving him the effort.

"I never doubted you, Michael." The sobs were coming faster and harder now. "I knew you would come back for me. I always knew you would. I didn't give up hope. And you did. You came for me."

"Of course I did." Michael pressed Tommy against him. The boy's hot tears soaked his chest. Michael embraced Tommy in warm, protective arms, and cradled his head, as much to comfort Tommy as himself. "Of course I came back for you." Just not soon enough.

Michael had waited on-shore for the pirates in plain sight, the ruse to trick them by exploiting their love of money already fully-formed in his mind. His one goal: get Tommy to safety. He watched as their raft bobbed along on the waves, slowly growing larger and larger, closer and closer, Tommy's red shirt a beacon. A lifetime seemed to passed before they finally reached shore.

Frakes and Jonas had disembarked first and approached him, Frakes carrying himself with an authority that made Michael's blood boil. Dante dragged Tommy from the boat. Michael had not missed the look that passed between pirate and boy, the look of sheer terror on Tommy's face as he gripped the side of the craft, yearning to make a run for it, or at least climb out of the boat by himself; the fear as he realized Dante was coming for him. He was terrified of Dante, Michael had discerned even then – though only now was he understanding the full cause of that fear.

Dante pulled Tommy out and immediately locked a beefy arm around his throat, his free hand clutching the back of Tommy's head, finger nails digging in, manipulating Tommy like a puppet. Michael recognized the stance: Dante was readying himself to snap Tommy's neck.

Michael's stomach churned. It was all his fault, everything that had happened...everything that had happened to Tommy. The pirates had been after him. He was their target. The way he frivolously flashed his money and American privilege. He was, in their minds, a walking gold mine. Him, not Tommy. Quiet, innocent, patient Tommy, who always sought the best in people, who worked harder than anyone he knew, who never gave up hope and who never complained, even when things were really bad. The strongest person he knew.

The pirates had almost killed Tommy – certainly would have if his plan had back-fired – and it was his fault. He had gotten Tommy into this mess. Every bruise on Tommy's skin should have been his. "I'm so sorry, Tommy. I'm so, so sorry," Michael whispered, pressing his lips to the boy's hair and kissing that dear head. "I'm sorry."

Michael started to cry. The weight of everything they had been through, the realization of how close he had come to losing Tommy, the repulsion he felt towards pirates who valued money over human life, the guilt that now threatened to crush him, suffocated and overwhelmed him. He tried to get a handle on his emotions, to stop his tears and be strong for Tommy, but he couldn't. Michael held his cousin tightly against him, Tommy's thin arms clutching at him desperately, grabbing handfuls of his shirt to anchor him to the bed. Michael rocked them back and forth as one.

Outside the warm sunshine smiled down on tourists and locals, good times and barbeques and boating trips that go according to plan. Music and laughter drifted in through the windows, a beautiful view on a beautiful day, inside to where Tommy and Michael were finally starting to deal with the intense reality of what they had experienced.

They cried until there were no tears left. Eyes dry and puffy, completed catharsis. Tommy laid back on the bed, feeling exhausted, but somehow lighter for having shared his secret grief. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes. Michael ran a hand down his face, over his five o'clock shadow and sore eyes. He felt ancient and tired, five times older than his mere 23 years. "Why didn't you want to tell me?" he asked.

It was easier for Tommy to answer when he couldn't see Michael's face. He replied promptly, without hesitation, having given the matter a lot of thought. "I know Dante hurt me in order to get back at you. I didn't want to tell you, because if you didn't know, then he would have failed. What you don't know can't hurt you. I guess I kind of messed that up, huh?"

"No. I'm glad you told me. I always want you to tell me when you're not okay."

"But you're hurt, aren't you, because he hurt me?"

"Of course I am, because I care about you, and I hate the thought of anybody hurting you-"

"Then he succeeded. Dante won."

"Hey, who's rotting in a jail cell right now? Not us. He didn't win, Tommy. You were stronger than him. You're so strong. We did it – me, you, and Jake. We defeated the pirates, when no one else could."

Tommy considered this. He sat up and looked at Michael, the corner of his mouth turned down into a frown. "They knew you would come for me."

"I'll always come for you." Michael rubbed at his temple, a guilt headache was forming, pounding painfully against his skull. "I shouldn't have left you in the first place. If I could do it all over again, I would have stayed right there with you. I would have protected you against Dante."

"They would have killed you."

Michael smiled and touched Tommy's face. "I'd give my life for yours any day of the week."

Tommy nodded to himself. Yes, he knew that was true. And even though he was scared, and he knew it would mean leaving his mother behind, if he had been the one in Michael's position, he would have traded his life for his cousin's. That was why he had begged Michael to leave him behind. It wasn't a position people ever wanted to find themselves in, but when you love someone, you do what you have to. "I hate that they used me against you."

"Well just don't go making a habit of being kidnapped," Michael joked, trying to lighten the mood. Tommy still frowned. He chucked the kid under the chin. "Hey, that's not a bad thing alright. It's not bad to love someone that much. If we were on that beach again, and it was either me or you, I would choose to save you every time. I love you. You're the little brother I never had."

"I love you too. It's just...it hurts." Michael knew he didn't mean physically.

"I know. I know it does, but we're going to get through this, okay? Together."

Tommy smiled softly. "Yeah, together." Together, the two of them could accomplish anything.

"How about I call up some room service, and you and I can stay in this evening – watch a movie or something, just the two of us."

"Okay," Tommy's smile widened; the genuine, wide smile of a kid who still believes in love and goodness. "Sounds good!"

"Alright!" Michael grabbed the phone from its cradle and started to ring the front desk.

"Hey, Michael?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about earlier."

"You don't have anything to be sorry about."

"I shouldn't have yelled at you the way I did. I didn't mean it. You do listen to me – more than anyone else, and even though I can take care of myself, it's nice knowing there's someone else there looking out for me. I guess what I really want to say is, thanks."

"You're welcome, buddy. I'm always going to be here for you, I promise."

It was a promise he intended to keep.

END

Just my way of showing some of the emotional consequences of the film, as well as filling in what could have happened between Days 10 & 11. The first shot we see of Day 11 is of Jonas and Dante, and Dante is coiling up this piece of rope, which I thought was an interesting little detail. This fic kind of answers the questions, "What was the rope for?" and "What happened to Andy during his night with the pirates?" I also just really wanted to highlight the bond between Michael and Tommy.

If you read, please review! Let me know what you thought! "Jumping Ship" is one of my all-time favorite Disney Channel Original movies, and I adore the Lawrence Brothers and the way their brotherly love translates onto the screen. I actually cried re-watching the movie the other day during the ocean scene, when Michael can't get Tommy's life-vest off and Tommy tells him to go. I suggest watching it! It's a brilliant little piece of acting.