I'LL BE RIGHT HERE

Chapter Forty Seven

"Thanks for everything, you know, saving my life and stuff."
(From: 'Tremors'.)

-x0x-

Now…

Even Shawn, the eternal optimist, was troubled by Juliet's confession that Dennis was still missing. The flutter of fear was all too real but he pushed it down and listened to her heartfelt reassurances, nodding and smiling, and willing himself to believe that she spoke the truth, even though it was painfully clear that nobody knew for certain what had happened to his friend.

One thing Shawn was adamant about, however. No way was he leaving this place until Dennis was by his side.

Molly would never forgive me if I left him behind, he joked silently, trying – and failing – to mask the true reason for his churning gut.

It's my fault he ended up here in the first place.

And if… (He swallowed.) If Dennis was dead…

Not possible. I won't accept that.

Shawn had won the battle to stay on the coastguard boat but, all the same, when the helicopter finally left, bearing Yoly to the mainland, he gave a secret sigh of relief.

Or maybe not so secret after all…

"Oh, don't you worry," Henry said, catching sight of his son's expression and misreading the thought behind it. "You're due for a date with a doctor the moment we hit Santa Barbara – even if I have to drive you there myself."

"Gee, thanks, Dad. But I'd rather have a date with…" He glanced around and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "…an all-you-can-eat buffet."

Juliet swatted him across the shoulder.

"Ow," he complained. "What was that for? I did almost drown, remember? More importantly, I haven't eaten in…" He counted on his fingers for a minute, then gave up and shook his head. "So many hours. That kind of trauma takes its toll. My body is in a delicate state right now and needs to be treated with respect."

Gus nodded wisely. Henry was less sympathetic. "By stuffing your face with food?" he said, raising his eyebrows. "Why am I not surprised?"

"It's a survival instinct," Shawn told him solemnly, ignoring the fact that the question had been rhetorical. "You, of all people, should understand." He turned his back on his father and gave Juliet a shy, apologetic smile. "Besides, I never said it wasn't a date for two…"

"You just want me to pay," she observed, but there was a gleam of humour in her eye.

"I just want you…" he murmured.

She squeezed his hand. You're forgiven, said her smile. Then she clambered to her feet.

"Wait – you're leaving?" Shawn channelled the big liquid eyes of the puppy dog pictures he liked to send her each morning by email (to start their day with a mutual 'awww' and a charming reminder of how sweet her brand new boyfriend could be). "Do you have to?"

"I still have a job to do, Shawn. Not to mention the fact that you have Gus and your father right here, taking excellent care of you. You're in good hands."

"Yes, but your hands are so much softer. I'm sorry, buddy," he continued when Gus looked offended. "I know you like to lay it on thick with the cocoa butter and whatnot, but are we really going to go there? Battle of the Lotions? Creamy Versus Creamier? That's kind of embarrassing, isn't it?"

"Soft hands, soft heart, Shawn. The ladies love a player who takes care of the little things. Besides – do you want me to tell Juliet about the mani-pedi we got last week? You know; our regular appointment?"

Henry snorted.

"I have no secrets from Jules," Shawn said haughtily, even as she giggled with a measure of delight that did nothing to bolster his argument. He watched her leave, enchanted by the way she managed to keep her balance, like a dancer, on the rolling deck. Meanwhile, Henry and Gus stared at him pointedly, waiting for the penny to drop – which it did, moments later.

"Okay. Okay; no other secrets… and you two can suck it," he grumbled, sliding down into a dejected heap. Juliet's magic touch had kept him from thinking too deeply about the pain he was in but, now that she was gone, it all came rushing back, and glaring at the know-it-all faces of his father and his best friend was no kind of tonic for how he felt at this… ah… ah… ah-CHOO!

At this moment.

"Spencer," said a brisk voice, somewhere overhead. His chin left his chest and he squinted up into the sunlight, which was only partly masked by the smug, dark silhouette of Commander Dunlap. "Glad to see you're still in the land of the living after all. That's quite a remarkable talent you have there."

"Why, thank you," he told her, rallying. Praise always lifted his spirits. Shallow but true, he grinned to himself. He raised a finger to his head but she interrupted him swiftly before he could rustle up an impromptu vision.

"Well, yes, there is that, I suppose. But I meant your talent for rattling cages without being torn to pieces. So far…"

"You've quite a talent yourself," Shawn observed, "for back-handed compliments. I'll take it, though," he added. "I'm sensing it's the best I'm going to get." And he offered up a rare look of deep sincerity that telegraphed how truly grateful he was for the coastguard's timely arrival, and the saving of his life. Sometimes, it wasn't the things you said. It was the things you left out.

Dunlap nodded sagely. "Wise man."

"Oooh," said Shawn. "I've never been called that before"

"Then how about 'brave'?"

For a second, it seemed to his overwrought brain that the commander had split herself in two, like some kind of crazy, morphing shadow creature, but then he realised that the slightly smaller figure standing beside her was none other than Maya, the captain's daughter. Her voice was strained and weary, but there was no hint of accusation in it.

Why did that make him feel worse?

"Well, of course," he replied, trying to recover his equanimity. "I've been telling people that for years."

"It's true," Gus nodded. "He has. No one believes him, though. I think it has something to do with the screaming and running away."

"Thank you, Fearless Guster," said his best friend pointedly.

Maya crouched down and now, at last, he could see her face. Her eyes were red but the upward tilt of her jaw was still determined. "I'm so sorry… about your mom," said Serious Shawn in a low voice intended for her and her alone. He was desperate to show how much he really meant it. "You should know, she was trying to protect me. She's going to… she's going to be fine."

You can't promise me that, said Maya's expression, but all she muttered was: "Thank you."

He raised a shaky finger to his temple once again. It was yet another lie, of course, but he wanted to help and this was the only way that he knew how. "Believe me," he whispered, steadfastly ignoring his father's gaze.

She didn't – and yet, he could see that she wanted to. That was enough for now. They shared a cautious look of understanding and, once again, Shawn was struck by how much he liked this young girl and her attitude.

Eager to change the subject, she folded her arms.

"Did that ass-hat Meek really throw you into the ocean?" she demanded, staring at his fetching silver blanket.

He shrugged, trying hard not to visualise it when her words took him right back to that shocking moment, and the longest fall of his life. "Maybe I fancied a swim. Did you think about that?"

"My mistake," she said, quirking her lips in the teeniest of smiles. "Refreshing?"

"Very."

Dunlap threw up her arms at his flippant attitude and strode away in search of a conversation that could actually be considered intelligent by her own rigid standards. But Maya was visibly relaxing by now, and plopped down onto the deck in a far more comfortable position. Ever the gentleman, Gus shifted over to make more room and held out his hand.

"Burton Guster," he said. "I'm guessing – since Shawn has no manners and didn't think to introduce you – that you're Maya? This is his father, Henry Spencer. And I'm his best friend – and his business partner."

Maya looked him up and down, then took his hand and shook it.

"You have my sympathies," she said solemnly.

The look on poor Shawn's face made everyone laugh but him – a sacrifice he was quite willing to make for the common good (a.k.a. Maya), he decided nobly.

-x0x-

Time passed. A flurry of people came and went as, one by one, the criminals were escorted onto the huddle of coastguard vessels in the stern company of Lassiter, Jules and Vick, together with various members of Dunlap's highly proficient crew. Exhausted though he was, Shawn couldn't help noticing that his friend perked up whenever a certain pair of legs passed by, clad in navy blue pants atop two sprightly ankles and sensible shoes. He raised his eyebrows.

"Tallulah," said Gus, and he flicked his nose, as though that explained everything. Which it did, upon reflection.

"Gesundheit. You're encouraging," Shawn sighed.

"I think you mean 'incorrigible', Shawn. And thank you."

"Wasn't really a compliment. And you know I've heard it…"

Gus pantomimed zipping his lips as the lovely Tallulah strode past once again, in the opposite direction this time. She glanced down and winked at Gus, so quickly that Shawn could almost believe he imagined it – were he not hyper-observant, of course.

Speaking of noticing freaky details, it was also hard to ignore the less-than-subtle looks of approval that Lassie and Dunlap shared whenever they crossed paths.

"Don't tell me," Shawn groaned.

"Then I won't," Gus agreed.

Silence.

"Okay, I take it back." Shawn's curiosity demanded satisfaction, even as his horrified imagination pulled away and flung its hands over its eyes. "What on earth happened on the journey out here, buddy? I think you left out some important details. This was supposed to be a rescue mission for me, not an episode of 'The Love Boat', Santa Barbara style."

"What are we talking about?" said Chief Vick, stopping by with a steaming hot mug of something that smelled like heaven to Shawn, if heaven was chocolatey, frothy and topped with marshmallows.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "Wherever did you get that?"

"Ship's galley," she told him, bending down and placing it in the curve of his outstretched palm.

"Chief Karen Vick," Shawn sighed, as the heat seeped through his skin and made him shiver unexpectedly. "Have I told you lately that I love you?"

"Certainly not. Because that would be wildly inappropriate."

"I wasn't finished," he protested. "Told you that I love yoooouuuur…. taste in delicious beverages?"

She smirked, enjoying the light-hearted game. "Then you're welcome, of course, Mr. Spencer." As if by magic, her other hand emerged from behind her back, holding a thermos that had several Styrofoam cups jammed over the top of it.

Gus leapt to his feet and took it from her eagerly.

"For everyone," she cautioned.

He squeaked in a way that was meant to convey his innocence but failed on every conceivable level.

Shawn spluttered around the rim of his mug and chocolate went straight up his nose, but it was totally worth it.

While Gus made a show of dividing the precious dark brown nectar evenly, under the watchful (and merry) supervision of Chief Vick, Shawn relaxed and let his own gaze wander. The chocolate was already working wonders throughout his weary limbs. At this rate, he fibbed to himself, I won't need a hospital at all. Just a bucket of this stuff, and Juliet beside me. Maybe a Japadog. And some Red Vines…

Almost as though he had summoned her with the power of his own mind (and wait! would that also work for the Red Vines and the hot dog if he focussed hard enough?), Spencer's sharp eyes caught sight of Juliet inching carefully down the ramp that led from the ship's deck – the proper way to disembark, he reasoned with regret. She was leading Cal by the arm, which meant that her grip on the gangway was tenuous at best. He saw the tightness of her features and recognised the war that she was currently waging with herself. As always, her kindness had won out. Besides, the need to maintain a calm air for the poor guy was probably helping her cope as well.

Looking up, she caught sight of him watching her, and flushed. Then her eyes widened, and she jerked her head dramatically. At first, he thought she was having some kind of panic attack – until he realised that the signal was for him. She was trying to get him to turn and look in the opposite direction.

"Just need… to stretch my legs," he mumbled to Gus, who was so blissed out by the chocolate that he barely noticed.

Henry set down his cup.

"Let me help you, son," he said.

Shawn could still remember the feel of his father's palm hovering on the small of his back when he was a curious tot on bandy legs that could barely hold him upright, heading off along the beach in search of starfish, shells and other tiny, joyful things to hold in his fat little fist. He used to shun memories like that, during all those wasted years when he and Henry were at odds. Lately, he welcomed them. Strange, how things could turn around so completely. Now here he was, once again, with his father's calloused hands supporting him – and he was grateful, though Henry would never expect or ask for thanks.

"Dude – harbour seal," Shawn said instead, looking out across the water. He grinned like a kid when Henry fell for the old gag, and followed his gaze. "Got you that time, Dad. Admit it."

"I was just playing along," Henry bluffed. "But son – you might want to look over there."

"Oh, sure," said Shawn – but Juliet was also staring, as was Vick, and Dunlap as she held the radio close to her ear.

"That's your friend back safe and sound, Mr. Spencer," the commander hollered.

Shawn's legs turned traitor and would have abandoned him altogether, were it not for Henry's arm now wrapped around his shoulder, holding him upright.

"Oof," he said, laughing it off. "Sorry, Dad. I'm good."

Henry didn't let go. And Shawn didn't ask him again. Instead they watched the boat approaching over the bouncing waves, with the errant tender close behind it – and there, thank God, was Dennis, standing in the prow of the leading vessel, waving like a homecoming hero in a ticker-tape parade.

"That jackass," Shawn said fondly.

Henry rubbed his hair.

"Takes one to know one," he muttered in his son's ear. "And I guess, now you know how I feel on a regular basis. Not that it'll make the slightest scrap of difference to your reckless disregard for your own safety…"

"Dad," Shawn interrupted him, with comical disdain. "Come on…"