I'LL BE RIGHT HERE

Chapter Thirty Nine

"Rule number one: do not get caught."
(From: 'The Recruit'.)

-x0x-

Now…

Gus was an excellent storyteller. He even did all the voices – apart from Shawn's father. The man was sitting beside him, after all. Very wise, thought Shawn with a weary half-grin, though he also felt a little disappointed.

"Eight out of ten for dramatic presentation. You wimped out of… you know what. And your 'Jules' is too high pitched," he commented, as the narrative came to a sweeping end with Lassie and Juliet ascending the treacherous gangway to rescue… well, him.

"Really?" Gus raised his eyebrows meaningfully and Shawn blushed.

"Okay. I deserved that. Your Lassiter is spot on, though. Have you been practising? Kudos, buddy." He paused. "We could have some fun with that, back at the station. Help him hook up with Commander Babs at last." His eyes widened. "Take 'Prank-call-a-palooza' to the ultimate level…"

"Shawn," said Henry. "You do know I can hear you."

"Yes. Yes, I do. My father, the party pooper…" A tickle lodged itself at the back of Shawn's throat and he almost coughed his lungs out trying to get rid of it. By the time he had succeeded, his eyes were streaming and his cheeks were flushed again. One hand was wrapped protectively around his stomach, which protested like the aftermath of a Mexican food truck binge. Looking up, he saw Henry and Gus staring at him in concern. "Ch-choking," he tried to explain, waving his hand dismissively. "All good now. Thanks for nothing. Ah…achoo!"

Fantastic. As if his dignity wasn't already compromised by the shiny blanket and the lack of anything significant underneath (once again, he tried not to think about the logistics of how that came to be), now he had a full-blown cold as well. Shawn stuck out his bottom lip and tried to look as pathetic as possible. Sympathy was always the best medicine.

Unfortunately, sympathy was also a foreign word to Henry Spencer. Now that Shawn was no longer in mortal danger, the man had reverted to his usual grumpy self. Clearly, a life or death situation was the only way to get some quality father and son time around here, Shawn concluded, as Henry clapped him on the back and said: "You'll live."

"Thanks, dad. Good to know. I was worried there, for a moment."

Sarcasm, as it turned out, was pretty medicinal too. Rallying, Shawn was about to labour his point in a big way when Chief Vick appeared beside them and took the wind right out of his sails. "Look there," she said, pointing. Her face was full of excitement.

Since he was still cocooned in his blankets like a tasty breakfast wrap (man, he was hungry), it took Shawn several attempts to turn around without toppling over, or covering himself with a very special kind of embarrassment. When he was finally facing the ocean instead of his smirking father (who seemed to be having no trouble at all), he saw three new boats bearing down on them, hazy for now but closing in quickly.

"That's our backup," Gus explained. "Dunlap must have called them in. I guess things are heating up on the Copernicus."

Shawn could hear the mixture of relief and disappointment in his friend's voice. Gus was a curious hybrid of hero and coward. Just like me, he admitted reluctantly.

I hope Jules is okay.

It was a random thought, but he clung to it fiercely. Everything had turned on its head so quickly that he was having a hard time adjusting. He was safe down here, and Juliet had climbed that nasty looking gangway into danger. Remembering how she felt about heights (and why), he marvelled at her dedication… to the job, of course. His pink cheeks grew even hotter and he risked a private little smile, now that Henry and the others couldn't see his expression. In the midst of all this chaos, he was suddenly, strangely happy.

He should have known better.

All at once, behind him, Shawn heard a curious metallic rumble. It sounded like two sets of footsteps, clattering down the gangway. His heart leapt. Could Jules be returning already, as though he had conjured her with his mind somehow, like a candle wish come true? Shawn's smile became dazzling. He turned his head to greet her – and froze in absolute horror.

The figure approaching was not an adorable blonde detective, or even a lanky, cranky one.

The figure approaching was Meek.

Of course it was.

Shawn's last sight of his nemesis had been terrifying enough, as Meek stared over the rail and watched him fall to what they both suspected (but only one of them hoped) would be his certain and unpleasant doom. But this – this was infinitely worse. Because it was over, alright? It was meant to be over, and after going through hell and surviving, Shawn was supposed to be safe at last. Whatever had he done to deserve such rotten luck? Had he stepped on a crack or crossed paths with a black cat? Was Fate sniggering up its sleeve at him?

"Who's that?" Gus said urgently.

"Um… that would be my good buddy and diving coach, Eddie the Bad Tempered Chipmunk."

"Wait – Edgar Meek?" Gus' voice rose up an octave.

That's it, thought Shawn. Now you're right there in my head space. Let me shuffle over and make some room…

They were powerless to act. Meek held a random hostage at gunpoint and Shawn felt guilty for being relieved that it was neither Jules nor Lassie, because not even one of Dunlap's poster boys for coastguard excellence could shoot the approaching monster without hitting the poor unfortunate soul who stumbled along in front of him.

At the top of the ramp, a second familiar figure was lurking. Sidekick Number One; a bad guy so tall that he had to crouch to hide behind his own human shield.

Dunlap's crew were standing with their weapons raised. Vick was on her feet as well, protecting her tribe, all of whom were unarmed. If Henry had boarded the boat with a gun, as Shawn suspected, he didn't have it on him now because, apparently, shoulder holsters and Mylar blankets were not an acceptable fashion combo. His face was a picture of frustration mingled with dismay at being caught off guard so easily.

"Stay low," he hissed to Shawn and Gus.

"Oh, believe me, that's the plan," said Shawn, feeling more vulnerable behind this veritable wall of firearms than he ever had aboard the Copernicus. "Gus. Don't give this guy any reason to notice you, buddy. Please? He already shot Yoly. I can't… He mustn't…" His throat closed around the words and he swallowed convulsively as Meek reached the bottom of the gangway. Why couldn't the extra weight of two people climbing down at once just have tipped that maniac into the ocean? Shawn pictured Meek sinking, his arms held out in supplication. Then he remembered exactly how that felt.

A wave of unreasoning shame washed over him. You had the chance to take him out – remember?

"Did I make the wrong choice?" he whispered to himself, as Sidekick Number One began his wobbly descent. The human shield in front of him was shaking badly. By this time, Meek had manoeuvred his way onto the coastguard boat. He clung to his hostage with a death grip. A pair of cuffs dangled from his wrist, and Shawn frowned. If Lassie or Jules had tried to arrest Meek, and failed… what exactly did that mean?

He began to tremble, his imagination running riot. The memory of Yoly transformed into a vision of Juliet, lying on the open deck with a hole in her heart and a red flower blossoming on her chest... "I could have stopped this," he groaned.

Gus gave him a tiny, urgent wave that meant: shut up, you idiot!

"Weapons down," Meek demanded.

What else could they do? Shawn could almost feel the anger radiating from Chief Vick as she placed her gun on the deck and sent it spinning away.

"Kneel," said the monster. Sidekick Number One joined him, doubling the threat and making any thought of fighting back impossible.

Shawn was still seated so he struggled onto his knees as the rest of the crew, his father and his friends all gathered around him. Sidekick Number One collected their guns. Only then did both men shove their prisoners aside, forcing them to join the group and kneel as well. In doing so, Meek happened to glance in Shawn's direction – and his jaw dropped. Under any other circumstances, it would have been a hysterical sight. Watching his expression shift was rather like watching a movie in miniature. Horror morphed into disbelief, which was twisted, in turn, through madness into vengeful glee.

Shawn's skin prickled with fright and he looked away, staring anywhere else in the crazy, childish hope that Meek would disappear if he couldn't see him anymore.

"This is rich," Meek said with cold satisfaction. "Now I get to kill you twice. Not quite the happy ending I envisaged, but I'll take what I can get at this point."

Henry bristled. "Dad," hissed Shawn. "Please don't." Even as the words escaped his lips, he couldn't help glancing back at Meek and knew at once that he had made a big mistake.

"This is your father?" Meek's tone was dangerously mild. He studied the tension in Henry's bearing and the look of fury on his face. "Oh yes, I can see it now. The family resemblance. Ignorant, hasty, pig-headed… Matching blankets, too – which must mean that he jumped in to save you. How touching."

"We really don't get on." Shawn shrugged. "I don't know why he bothered."

"Again with the lies. You're a sick man."

"Look who's talking." In desperation, Shawn tried to drag his enemy's attention away from Henry and settle it squarely back onto his own sorry shoulders. "Agent Meek. This whole mission of yours was a lie from start to finish. Makes it kind of poetical, really, don't you think? The fact that the prize wasn't real in the end? No magical space dirt. No shining discovery. No fame and fortune for poor Eddie Meek. Just a sad little 'alien', lost in his own delusions… That's a big old 'F' for 'Failure', man. You have my sympathies. Oh, wait a second…" Shawn held up a cautionary finger. "No. You don't."

He knew it was reckless, but talking was the only gambit he had left. The other boats were drawing closer, blocking Meek's escape route. Meanwhile – and Shawn clung to this hope like the drowning man that he had literally been, less than an hour ago – Lassie and Jules, and Commander Babs, were somewhere up above. If he played for time, as he always did, then someone would save them. They had to. That was the first rule of any hostage situation, right?

They had to…

Meek pressed the muzzle of his gun against the centre of Shawn's forehead. It felt cold, and he shivered.

Or not. So I guess it's an 'F' for me too, he thought sadly. 'F' for 'Final'. 'F' for 'Foolish'.'F' for 'Fajitas…' "Wait!" he protested. "I don't want to die hungry. What if I'm hungry in heaven? I doubt they have snacks – although that would be heavenly, right? An eternity of junk food…"

"Heaven?" Meek said. "Really?"

"I'm an optimistic guy." Shawn shrugged.

"And a good man," Gus muttered, beside him.

"Thanks, buddy. I guess I'll see you there… though not too soon, I hope." Closing his eyes again (and feeling a deep sense of déjà vu), Shawn waited for the world to end in a moment of burning pain that would be his last memory here on earth.

Then Chief Vick took a deep breath and began to speak.