The Dock Incident

Disclaimer: I do not own Animorphs.

My father and Tom were sitting down at the end of the dock, talking and dangling their feet in the water. My father laughed and gave Tom's shoulders a quick, spontaneous hug. Tom's sweatshirt bunched up in the back. Revealing, for a moment, the gleaming dagger wedged in his pocket. My father didn't notice it. He laughed again and removed his arm. ... But I was still only halfway to the dock when Tom withdrew the glittering dagger. CCCRRRRAAAACCCCKKKK! The sharp sound split the night. My father and Tom looked up in shock as the wooden dock tilted and collapsed with a screech...Tom and my father both slipped into the water.

-Animorphs #31.

The floorboard creaked softly and my eyes snapped open. I never sleep very well away from home and this fold-out couch Jean and I were sharing was hardly built for comfort. Given the fact that this house rarely had so many visitors, I was probably lucky the couch was a fold-out one at all. With the reason for our trip being as unfortunate as they were, I knew this was just something I'd have to keep to myself. Old houses sometimes made noises for no real reason but I looked around for the source of the sound anyway.

Tom was standing at the entrance of the room in his old red sweatshirt and looking a little uncomfortable. He jerked his head towards the door once he saw that I was awake and I knew what he wanted.

Immediately, I got up and as I pulled on my discarded clothes I glanced at the clock. Two in the morning. Lovely. The wake would be held later today but Tom wouldn't wake me up at two in the morning to talk if it weren't important. Honestly, I haven't been sleeping well since I heard about Grandpa G's death, comfortable sleeping arrangements or no. Part of it was the fact that my wife's grandfather had just died and I couldn't be there to support her. I had always liked the man as well so, no matter how old he was, losing him was a blow. That wasn't the only reason, though.

Tom has always been a good kid but it seems that over the last few years he's just stepped in up and now he's almost too well-behaved. I remember what it was like to be a teenager (I maintain that it wasn't that long ago despite now having two teenage sons of my own) and know that no matter how wonderful a kid is, nobody's perfect. Teenagers are under a lot of stress to make important life decisions and all those raging hormones – not just the ones that convince them that girls don't have cooties – don't help matters.

I love my sons and I've very proud of them but I don't expect saints. If they can't screw up when they're young and have us to fall back on, when can they? Somehow, though, Tom never seems to make these classic teenager mistakes or if he does I never hear about them. I can't quite decide if I should be thankful or concerned. I can't exact talk to him about it because what could I say? I want him to get into more trouble? That hardly seems like responsible parenting right there.

Jake would be the same way if it weren't for the fact that there have been times that he's come home way past curfew with no explanation. At least he doesn't try to argue himself out of being grounded in those cases. But despite the sleepless nights Jake's given us while Jean and I – and sometimes Tom – wait around silently praying that we'd see our son again, I am glad to see some signs of what I'd consider normal teenage behavior. I'd just rather he miss curfew by a few hours less.

Given how responsible Tom usually is, it caught me completely off guard how vehement he was about not coming up here for the funeral. It's not like I expected him to be happy about having to drive eight hours into the middle of nowhere – I had never liked the drive either and was a little envious that Jean had gotten to fly there – but Grandpa G was family and he was dead and so we had to come and pay our respects. Tom's initial reaction surprised me but not quite as much as the fact that he has continued to sulk about it ever since learning that we were leaving. It was just four days. Surely he could stand to be away from Santa Barbara for a little over half a week.

I normally consider myself to have a good relationship with my sons – not perfect but that's to be expected – and so this thing with Tom's been bothering me for days. I didn't want to fight but I wasn't about to back down and let him disrespect his great-grandfather because he wanted to hang out with his friends (his friends who support family values, might I add!) and he didn't seem ready to compromise either. He might have been sullen even on the ride up but now that we're here that's not much point arguing. If he wants to try and make things right between us then I don't care what I'm doing or how early it is, I'm completely on board.

Tom was leaning against the cabin waiting for me when I got outside. "Do you want to go sit out on the dock?"he asked quietly.

I nodded. "I've always loved the lake," I remarked as we made our way down to the end of the dock. I opened my mouth to ask Tom what he wanted to talk about but decided against it and shut it again. I'd let him bring it up when he was ready. Swallowing your pride and apologizing was never easy, I knew, and I didn't want to put him on the spot. If nothing else, I'd hate to have gotten up at two in the morning for what ultimately turned out to be a waste of my time.

"I always forget how nice the lake is," Tom admitted, sitting down on the edge of the dock and dipping his feet into the lake. "Back home, it seems like such a long trip for a little scenery, no matter how peaceful it is."

I pulled off my socks and let my feet dangle in the water as well. "And what about right now?" I prompted.

"Now I remember why I like it here," Tom replied serenely. He made a face. "I'm still not looking forward to the drive home, though."

Like father, like son. I laughed. "If it weren't for the fact that we need to get the car home, I'd be tempted to just fly back."

Tom grinned. "You know…only one person technically needs to get the car home and Mom got to fly up."

"We'll see what your mother has to say about that," I told him, still chuckling. Jean would never go along with it, of course, but at least a man can dream.

Tom's grin slowly faded and he shifted uncomfortably. "Listen, Dad…"

"Yes?" I prompted.

"I know that this is a weird time to be having a heart-to-heart but I couldn't sleep," Tom confessed. "All I've been able to think about is this fight we've been having."

I said nothing, merely nodded encouragingly.

"I don't even know what to say. All week I've been upset because I didn't want to leave Santa Barbara and because I have a lot going on but…" Tom trailed off and shook his head. "Grandpa G is dead. I don't know why this just hit me now. It just doesn't seem real, you know?"

I nodded again, understanding exactly what he meant. My nephew Saddler had only vanished after receiving supposedly mortal wounds and then making a miraculous recovery a few months ago and I still had difficulty accepting it. The boy had only been sixteen and George and Ellen were devastated. And of course, Saddler was Tom and Jake's cousin (even if they hadn't exactly been close) so I knew they were having a hard time dealing with it as well, particularly Jake.

"But that doesn't excuse how I've been acting," Tom said firmly. "And so I wanted to apologize. I was out of line and you really didn't need the added stress."

I felt a slow smile spread across my face. Now that was the Tom that I remembered, messing up on occasions but always quick to try and make amends the minute he realize that he was in the wrong. "Thank you."

"Does this mean that you accept my apology?" Tom asked, a little anxiously.

"Of course I do," I said seriously. "And I always will. No matter what ever happens between us or how bad a fight gets, I want you to know that you can always come to me and that it's never too late to make it right." My words are a little on the ominous side, I know, but Tom hasn't been the only one who was upset with our fight. I know that whenever Jake was in the same room as the two of us he looked like he expected one of us to physically attack the other and that didn't sit right with me.

Tom nodded, equally solemn. "I know."

We sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. It didn't appear that there was much more to say but despite how tired I had been a few minutes ago and how exhausted I knew I'd be at the wake, I didn't move. It really was peaceful out here and the world was a different place at two in the morning. It was almost like Tom and I were the only people around.

Tom broke the silence. "You know," he said in a conversational tone. "It's a really good thing that you feel that way."

Given our previous subject of conversation, I was instantly suspicious. "Oh? And why is that?"

"No reason in particular," Tom claimed. "It's just useful to know for when you eventually catch onto the fact that whenever you and Mom leave the house for longer than an hour I throw a wild party…I shouldn't have said that."

I laughed and gave Tom's shoulders a quick, spontaneous hug. I may hate fighting with my family but making up almost makes it worth it. "Oh, really? There have been chronic wild parties?"

Tom grinned mischievously. "Why do you think I wanted to stay home this weekend? I had to reschedule and I'd already paid the DJ."

I laughed again and removed my arm. "I would apologize for the inconvenience but I think that it might be best if I disavow all knowledge of your illicit partying."

"That certainly seems to be working out for Jake," Tom said agreeably.

"Now he's in on it?" I exclaimed in mock-outrage. "Is there anyone who doesn't know about this?"

Tom thought for a moment. "Yeah," he answered. "Mom."

"Well, I would hope that you at least had the sense to keep it a secret from-" I started to say before a loud CCCRRRRAAAACCCKKK cut me off.

I looked up in shock as the formerly sturdy dock started to collapse into the water. I couldn't believe it. This dock had been perfectly safe in all the years I'd been coming up here, the earliest of which predated my wedding to Jean! Maybe that was the problem, the age. The reasons why the dock was collapsing wasn't my problem right now, though, but rather getting out of this. I scrabbled to hold on but there was nothing to hold on to. The planks had all folded in on themselves.

I fell into the water.

Note: So I could keep going but we already know what happens next: Steve tries to get to Tom but is pulled away by an Animorph, eventually gets to land, calls 911 for Tom.

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