Years Ago
The explosion jolted Shawn from sleep as it had done so many times before. This recurring dream sequence that kept the young boy from getting sleep was starting to get annoying.
Shawn sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and the remnants of the dream away. Each time he had it, the dream seemed more and more real. Shawn was always able to clearly see his father enter the room of the man who was constructing the bomb… What was his name? Shawn ought to know by now; his father had told him the story so many times… Oh yeah. Eugene Franks. Shawn had been a witness to this story more times than he could count.
His father would start by saying that the year of his "biggest bust" was also the year his only son was born but somehow he always managed to make that sound less important than the rest of the story. Henry would continue, telling of how he gathered all the clues that led him to Franks, finally escalading to the moment when he'd busted into Frank's apartment and got the guy to put the bomb down, stopping the terrorist from blowing up the police station.
Shawn had loved and hated this story. Loved because it made his father even more of a hero in his eyes. Hated because he was able to envision an explosion so easily… Was able to see how this story could have ended an entirely different way… And that re-written version haunted him in the dream world for most of his young life, the only remedy being his father tucking him for bed. When Henry was kept late at the station to fill out paper work, or when he was too tired to walk upstairs, or even when he simply forgot due to other matters pressing on his mind, the dream would attack and Shawn would lose sleep for the rest of the night.
Shawn rolled out of bed, knowing full well that sleep was an impossible desire now, and padded across the room to his bedroom door. He opened it a crack and pressed his ear to it, desperate to hear anything even remotely resembling the sound of his father walking through the door or his voice echoing in the kitchen where his mother was no doubt waiting up for the return of her husband. He was fortunate to hear his father's shoes stomp into the house, the door closing behind him.
Smiling, Shawn crept out of his room, coming to a stop right at the landing of the staircase and sat down. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes. Hearing his father's voice was the only thing that could calm his racing heart; reassuring the seven year old that his father hadn't died in an explosion the year he'd been born, but was, in fact, very much alive.
It didn't matter that Shawn couldn't make out what his parents were discussing; couldn't pick any distinguishable word to hang on to… The tone and variation in pitch was enough. It always had been. Shawn sighed in contentment. His father was just fine.
Henry looked at Madeline, trying to convince her of his brilliant plan that had occurred to him just as he finished filling out paper work for his latest case.
"Come on, Mad. He's going to be a police officer one day, I just know it. What better time to start training than right now, while he's still young?"
"I don't know, Henry. Doesn't it seem a little ridiculous to decide Shawn's future for him? Not to mention he's only seven."
"That's the beauty of it! He'll be the best cop in the world and all because he will know what he's doing by the time he gets on the force." Madeline shook her head, still not convinced but knowing full well that Henry wouldn't change his mind for anything.
"Do whatever you want, just be careful," she warned. "You don't want him despising you because of this later."
"He won't, Mad. He'll be thanking me." Henry crossed the short distance to his wife and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Can you imagine him and me together on the force? We'd be unstoppable! The Spencer team." His eyes were shining as they met hers. She simply smiled.
"Go to bed future Team Spencer. I'll just finish washing the dishes and I'll be right up." Henry kissed her on the cheek before he obeyed, mounting the stairs, his mind whirring with all the possibilities… Only to come to an abrupt halt as his eyes landed on his son, sitting on the top stair, his eyes closed and a small smile on his face. Henry felt a surge of parental pride and affection as he bent down and gently scooped his son up in his arms. Shawn stirred awake.
"I wasn't asleep," he informed his father.
"Of course you weren't," Henry agreed cradling the boy in his embrace. He would never admit it, not even to Madeline, but he would one day miss this simple father-son closeness. Shawn was growing up and, whether Henry liked it or not, he would soon dislike being touched by his father and much too big to carry. For the moment, Henry absorbed the feel of his son in his arms as he walked into the boy's room and laid him down in his bed.
"I was just making sure that you weren't a burglar," Shawn murmured, sinking below his sheets.
"Thank you for your concern." Henry pulled the sheets up to Shawn's chin. "Goodnight, Son." Henry stood and was about to leave when he felt Shawn's fingers on his sleeve. He turned back to see his son smiling tiredly up at him.
"Dad, I'm glad you're safe." Henry felt his façade of strength disintegrate immediately at the simple words. He knew Shawn had nightmares of him dying in the line of duty and it broke his heart whenever the thought crossed his mind. Tonight must have been one of those nights. Henry knelt next to the bed.
"I'll always be here for you, Shawn," Henry soothed, running his fingers through his son's hair.
"I know," Shawn whispered, finally closing his eyes and dropping off to sleep. Henry pressed a gentle kiss to his son's forehead before he left. In the doorway, he stopped to look back at the sleeping boy.
"You and me, kid. We'll be the best team there ever was." Henry closed the door softly before going to his own room.
