I'LL BE RIGHT HERE

Chapter Thirty Four

"All fathers care for their sons."
(From: 'Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles'.)

-x0x-

1989

"What do you do if you fall in the ocean?"

Shawn looked at the waves. Then he looked at his father. His fingers tightened their grip on the fishing rod. "Should I be worried?"

"What? No! Shawn, I'm not going to throw you overboard." Henry was horrified. "Why would you even think that?"

"Oh… I don't know." The boy shrugged, but his eyes were shifty.

"Look, it's a hypothetical question, okay?"

"Okay. I get it. That makes perfect sense. Thanks, Dad. Um… why is it high and pathetic?"

Sometimes, with Shawn, it was hard not to laugh. "Hypothetical. Kind of like 'imaginary'."

"Oh!" His son's face brightened and Henry relaxed. Now they were getting somewhere. "That's easy then. I'd tread water for as long as I could and watch the flashbacks from my past."

"Excuse me?"

"That's what Magnum P.I. does," Shawn explained patiently.

"Wait – Tom Selleck is your go-to guy in this life or death scenario? The man wears some pretty great shirts, I'll admit, but he's an actor, not a real detective."

"Way to burst that bubble, Dad. Besides, you said 'imaginary'."

Already, Henry could feel control of the lesson slipping away from him. No wonder Shawn's teachers always looked haggard by the end of the year, no matter how fresh-faced they were in the fall. There were difficult kids – and then there was Shawn Spencer.

Was it possible to be too clever?

Start again, he sighed. "Get your head out of the idiot box for once, Shawn. This is important. Suppose you're fighting the bad guys and they throw you off a boat. It could happen," he said grimly. "They could be sorely tempted…"

Obediently, Shawn considered for a moment. "Am I wearing water wings?"

"Shawn!"

"Oops – I meant a life jacket." The boy grinned, and patted the one he was wearing. "But isn't that just like fancy water wings for sailors?"

"Certainly not. A life jacket could very well save your… um, life one day. And no," said Henry, with relish. "You're not." It was petty, he knew, but how else was Shawn going to learn if his dad didn't point out that the world could be uncompromising? If Henry didn't try to predict the unpredictable so that his precious kid would never feel the doubt and apprehension he had experienced? (Yes, he was honest enough to admit that, in the privacy of his own mind.)

Shawn reeled in his empty line, then turned and faced his father with exaggerated resignation. "Okay, Dad. What should I do…?"

-x0x-

Now…

It was Henry who saw his son fall from the ship.

In a fine twist of fate, the very protocol that kept him from boarding the Copernicus with Dunlap and the others now gave him the best – no, the only chance to save Shawn's life.

Ever since the team had left the precinct yesterday evening, Henry himself had become the tag-along that every cop dreaded; the family member who gets in the way and makes everyone's job harder. That didn't mean he would rather have stayed behind. The fire inside him was burning brightly, stoked by a fear that had dogged him ever since the Motorbike Incident, when Shawn was run off the road by a suspect in one of his early investigations. The boy had no impulse control. He was all about the moment. One day, he and Gus would run away from danger, screaming like a pair of little girls. The next, he would run towards it, facing down an armed man (or two) with only his wits to protect him, prompted by an overwhelming urge to do the right thing. That particular instinct, Henry did understand, no matter how much it alarmed him. And though he would never tell Shawn (who seemed to delight in self-congratulation), he was proud of his son's kind heart and secret store of courage.

He was standing apart from the others, resisting the temptation to sneak up the gangway, when a sudden, frantic scream caught his attention. Dazzled by the rising sun, he squinted upwards, just as a body flipped over the rail, at the opposite end of the ship, and dropped like a stone down a well. For one frozen moment, Henry couldn't quite register what his eyes were seeing. Yet the scream and the button-down shirt, and that rumpled head of hair were so familiar… His own heart missed a beat and he clutched at his chest in a panic. Not now…

"Man overboard!" he shouted. His voice was hoarse – but the others had heard the scream as well, and already their heads were turning.

"Shawn!" cried Gus, in horror. "No!"

Shawn spun in mid-air, flailing madly until he managed to achieve a proper diving form – feet first, to lessen the impact on the rest of his body. Just before he hit the water, he clapped both hands across his nose and mouth. Then he slipped through the waves, disappearing so quickly that it was hard to believe they had seen him at all.

Point to the spot where he vanished, you idiot, Henry thought, ashamed of himself for hesitating. Every second was a lifetime when your son was drowning right before your eyes. And what was the point of teaching Shawn how to survive if good old Dad forgot the basic instructions in a crisis? He stretched out his arm and held it there, using his index finger to maintain a line of sight. Karen leaned out beside him. Her presence was a comfort, but Henry didn't need reassurance – he needed action.

"Point with me," he told her.

Both vessels had cut their engines at the point of meeting, which left them at the mercy of the elements, rising and falling together with every swell, while dark shadows danced on the tips of the waves, looking like nothing so much as the head of a floundering man… now here, now there… now gone again.

"Is it Shawn?" the chief asked urgently. "Henry. What did you see?"

He took hold of her arm and lifted it until it was level with his own. "Just keep pointing. You're the spotter now. Don't move a muscle, Karen. And yes, of course it's Shawn. Who else do you know that would get themselves thrown off a… Never mind." Dropping his hand, he stepped away and sent his gaze roving around the boat until he found what he was looking for – a rescue sling with a rope attached, neatly stowed away nearby. God bless Dunlap and her rigorous attention to detail. Henry grabbed the sling and passed the bundle of rope to Gus, who was hovering anxiously at his shoulder. "Don't let go. When I tug on the line three times, pull us in."

"Who, me?" said Gus. His eyes were wide, but Henry knew the young man well enough to trust that he would never let Shawn down. This was personal for him too, and Henry was counting on that. The bond between Gus and his best friend was unbreakable. Hopefully, his grip on the rope would be the same.

"But sir!" Dunlap's pilot was frantic. Behind him, the remaining two members of Dunlap's team were bustling about, making preparations of their own. "Wait a minute. You can't. Procedure states…"

"Procedure be damned. That's my son out there. Nobody's stopping me this time," Henry growled. Climbing over the rail before they could reach him, he let go and sank into the water, sling and all. The cold was unnerving, but he turned around and struck out boldly, counting on the adrenaline that was coursing through his veins to get him most (if not all) of the way. He knew he was risking his life – but if Shawn were to die here and now, that life would be meaningless; an empty, failed existence, haunted by guilt and memories.

"I'm not g-going to give you the s-satisfaction of looking down and seeing how much worse m-my life is without you, Sh-Shawn," he grumbled, spitting out salt water with every breath.

In the long shadow of the Copernicus, he squinted through the waves, checking back over his shoulder every now and then to see if he was still in line with Karen's pointing finger. Had Shawn resurfaced by now? "I h-hope to G-God you have," spluttered Henry. The thought of diving deep beneath the surface filled him with alarm. He had always considered himself to be a first rate swimmer – but he was out of his depth in more than a practical way right now. Fighting the swell of the waves took a monumental effort. Already his arms were tiring, and he was only halfway there.

Then he heard it. A feeble cry that spurred him on. It wasn't a word, exactly, but the meaning was clear. Shawn was calling for help. He was still alive. "Here!" Henry shouted, choking as another wave attacked him. "Shawn, I'm here. I'm c-coming to get you. Remember the Dead Man…" He spluttered again. "Dead Man's Float. Like I taught you."

"Dad?" The voice was thin and full of disbelief. "Dad? Is that you? I'm not dead – I'm right here…"

Henry could see Shawn's weary arm lifting above the waves, and he struck out towards it, confident of the direction now, and filled with a fresh sense of vigour. He knew that when the fall came, he would pay, but that didn't matter. "D-Dead Man's Float," he shouted again. "On your front. Save your energy. Do it!"

"I'm there… already." So tired. Shawn sounded so tired, and Henry redoubled his effort. The coastguard boat was far behind him now. His whole world was the water and the struggle, and the hope that he was close.

Even though Henry had told Shawn to do it, when he finally reached his son and saw him floating face down in the water, his heart lurched again with a terrible premonition. Laying his hand on Shawn's arm, he gasped with relief as his son responded. Shawn lifted his pale face and turned it to the side so he could breathe in a gulp of air.

"Just like you… taught me," Shawn whispered. "Hey, Dad…" He was searching for a smart remark, Henry could tell, but the effort was just too much.

With aching arms, Shawn's father wrapped the sling around him, then guided him into a curled-up position with his knees against his chest, and grabbed his waist from behind, underneath the yellow padding. Finally, he tugged three times on the rope and waited for Gus and the others to pull them both to safety.

"Guess you know… how the fish feels… now," Shawn wheezed, as they began to move towards the distant boat. Was he shivering or laughing? "That'll… teach you…"

"D-doubtful," his father replied.