Disclaimer: If I owned Boy Meets World nobody would have liked it, the show wouldn't have taken off, and, for better or worse, you probably wouldn't be reading this fanfiction as a result.


Happily ever after?

Hah.

How could anyone concern themselves with a happy 'ever after' when they couldn't even have a happy middle?

My father's dead.

Of course, idiot. You knew that already.

I don't have a mom.

Oh, but you do…

My mom doesn't want to be found—not by me.

Finally understand something, do you?

Shawn tried to clear his thoughts. Focus. But he couldn't even do that. Couldn't do anything.

Couldn't stop his dad from dying.

Couldn't find his mom.

The car swerved as his vision blurred. It baffled him that driving under the influence of alcohol was illegal, but driving under the influence of frustration wasn't. And people listened to this system? It couldn't even keep a madman off the road…

or help someone find their mom.

Shawn should have listened to Cory from the beginning, should have put the letter away without looking at its contents. What had he expected? His mom to say that she was on her way back? Or that she missed him? Loved him?

Yeah, right.

He should have listened to Cory and not searched for his biological mother after he'd read the letter. Accepted that he didn't know who his mom was and move on with his life.

Knowing who she was wouldn't change his past anyway.

He should have listened to Cory, left his hopes in a bin and thrown his envelope of "answers" right in there with them.

Because Cory was right. Everything had been going well—for the most part. Everyone had been happy—for the most part. Shawn's family always spelled trouble, he should have known an innocent letter wouldn't have been so innocent coming from his mother. But that was the problem…everything was going well, everyone was happy, but he wasn't.

It was selfish, opening the letter. He wasn't anyone important, not like Cory and Topanga and Angela and the Matthews, he should have just dropped it.

Stop whining.

The car swerved again and this time Shawn couldn't catch it. He bounced off the road, steering wheel spinning out of control. It was almost funny, how time slowed enough for him to count each rock he rolled over and each branch he snapped. And upon impact with the lamppost, the dented metal was perfectly accentuated against the gleam of his headlights.

Shawn's head snapped against the headrest. He heard a buzz; it drowned out everything. In his haze he couldn't tell if he was suffering from the crash or if being cut off from his own frazzled thoughts was causing it. He hoped it was from the crash. Maybe if he hit his head hard enough he could leave everything behind, float into oblivion, and find happiness.


Two weeks earlier:

The apartment door was opened before he had a chance to reach it, yet there was no smile to greet him, just a straight back heading away from the door. That meant she was mad. Really mad.

Stepping through the apartment's block of a doorway, he could see Sarah leaning against the arm of the couch. She had her arms knotted across her chest, but didn't look terribly upset, maybe there was hope still. He slowly moved forward.

"Hello! Guess who's back?" He kept his tone cheerful, not yet sure of her mood.

"My fiance, I would presume. Although with the way you've been avoiding me lately, I'm starting to wonder," she huffed.

"I'm not avoiding you. I've just been busy."

He grabbed Sarah's hand, pulling it away from her chest and led her to the couch. While she adjusted herself on one end of the seat—notably farthest from him—he couldn't help admiring her. Sarah was about as opposite to him as a butterfly was from a caterpillar; they may be derived from a similar origin, but that was where their similarities ended. She had vibrant red hair that shimmered as light hit it. Her eyes were not quite green, but brown wasn't the right shade either, almost hazel but even that didn't do them justice. They were open and honest, nothing could hide behind her eyes that took the phrase "windows to one's soul" literally. She had a sharp jaw, but a button nose to contrast it. Lips set in a thin line, did nothing to diminish her features, only hid the dimple that usually found residence on her left cheek.

He couldn't believe she was to be his wife. Well, if he made it past this next argument with the title of fiance still secured.

"Listen, I know I've not been the most attentive the last couple of weeks," he began, "but with classes coming to an end I have to make sure all grades are looking good and everything is documented so next semester starts off smoothly." He began by working with reason, his go to tactic.

"I get that, but wedding planning isn't a one person job. We can't keep pushing it off if we plan to keep our date."

He ran his hand down his face. "We aren't doing anything big. There shouldn't be so much to decide on."

Sarah's mouth turned down. "Well, we probably would have been done deciding a week ago if you just took a day, a single day, to look this stuff over with me. You know, like we agreed to do. Do you understand that?"

"You know what I don't understand? why you're in such a rush! We still have time. The wedding isn't for…" he paused, how long did they have three weeks? four? "for a while."

"Oh yeah… we'll just wait until the day before and expect everything to get set up at the last second, right?"

Sarah jumped to her feet, hands flying to her neck in the way they did when she got agitated. She stood there rubbing slow circles into her skin before letting out a breath and starting again in a quieter voice.

"I just don't get it. Do you not want to get married? Are you afraid of losing your 'freedom'? Because I thought you said you were ready now… I thought you said you were excited."

He sighed. Why did this have to be so complicated? Why couldn't they just sign some papers and be done with the whole ordeal? Married, happy, no hassle. But even as the thought crossed his mind he knew that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted the memory of watching her walk down the aisle, wanted to look into a river of family and close friends, wanted to cement their union in a way that showcased their love and not just legal affairs. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't scared, but that wasn't what was holding him back.

He pushed to his feet as well. Sarah's eyes were ablaze, ready for their answer. His hands found his pockets before he began.

"I've always been one to struggle with change, you know this. I resist, and deny, until I accept that things will be different and then that thing becomes all I want, and I'm finally ready for it."

Brow creased, Sarah tilted her head. "So you haven't 'accepted' that change will come with our marriage?"

"No. I accepted that the day I asked you. I guess I just didn't realize that such a large change could make me regret not leaping on other chances in the past."

"What chances… like jumping out of a plane? I'm not going to hold you back, hey, I'll throw myself out there with you."

"Not like that. I know you and the wild life go hand in hand." He smirked.

Sarah couldn't help a small laugh slipping past her lips. "What then? What are you regretting so much that you can't plan a stinkin' wedding."

"Adopting a kid." The words were out in a single breath.

Sarah opened her mouth and closed it. Wrinkled her nose and relaxed it. Confused but contained.

"We'll have kids. If we can't, we'll adopt. Together." She paused, gauging his reaction. "I have to admit that is definitely not what I expected to hear. You wanted to come into marriage with kids already?"

Gazing into the carpet he shook his head. "It's hard to explain. It's not really related to our marriage. I was too scared of change then, I didn't accept it… not like I accepted the change that would come with married life. It just feels wrong moving on with this, when I couldn't with that. I mean, I could have… Ugh." He collapsed onto the couch again, hands running across his face as he struggled to push back tears. He didn't want to be emotional. He needed to let the past go.

Feeling a hand grab his own he lifted his head to see Sarah crouched on the floor in front of him, eyes shimmering with sympathy. She didn't understand, but she cared. That was what he loved most about her: she cared, always, relentlessly.

He took a shaky breath. "I could have helped someone, you know? Could have given them a good life, better than the one they had anyway. I didn't…because I was scared. How selfish is that? And I haven't heard from this kid for a couple years now, but he's all I can think about, because what if I screwed him up."

"I'm sure he found a good home with someone else," Sarah said as she offered a tentative smile. "He's probably living his best life now, and maybe that's because you didn't adopt him. You trusted your instinct, maybe it just wouldn't have worked out then." Sarah rubbed his hand.

"I know he didn't get a better home though… he just went back to the life he had."

Sarah sighed and didn't say anything for a couple minutes. He didn't blame her, what was someone supposed to say in this situation? He wouldn't know what to say if Sarah told him she wished she'd had a kid before meeting him. It was absurd, and yet, for him, it made so much sense.

"I know how much you love kids, but you can't be there for all of them. This kid you didn't take in, well he'll grow up, he'll find happiness. And you? You'll make an incredible father one day, you'll be there for our kids."

She kissed his knuckles. "You'll be there for ours, Jonathon."


Present:

Cory stared out the living room window, seeing nothing except a sheet of glass that kept him from the rest of the world—mocking him. Everything lay beyond a window, didn't it? Life existed on the other side, but the glass cut things in half, marking those on the inside as alone and isolated from everyone else. Even when they had people on their side.

Ugh, Cory had never been good at metaphors, he couldn't even understand himself, but at the same time he knew exactly what he meant: Shawn felt too cut off from the rest of the world, even though he had friends, people close enough he could dub them family. If only he saw it that way himself, because despite the amount of times Cory reminded Shawn they were family, he doubted the other boy actually understood the words.

That's because his own family was nothing like what he shares with me. At least that's what Cory wanted to believe.

If he didn't believe that, then it meant Shawn didn't feel the same about their friendship as Cory did. That was almost as heartbreaking as breaking up with Topanga. Maybe more.

It was wrong for him to wish Shawn would barrel through the door and yell at him and pretend like he didn't care about anybody, but Cory would have given anything for that. He just needed Shawn to come home. If Shawn was home Cory could help him.

"Yeah, your home, Cory, not mine." That's what Shawn would have said. Shawn wasn't here though and Shawn didn't say that. Shawn didn't say anything.

"Cory, honey, at least try to smile. You know how much your father was looking forward to this party," his mom whispered, rubbing a hand along his back as she passed by him.

With a sigh Cory plastered a smile on his face, but kept his gaze firmly fixed ahead of him. He wasn't trying to dampen the mood, not when he knew how much birthdays meant to his dad. But he was worried. This was Shawn, his best friend, someone he knew better than his own brother—it was true. He'd not heard anything from him since Shawn had opened the envelope that morning and had been met with a blank page: no mother. Shawn had tried to convince him that he was alright, but Cory knew that not finding his mom had put yet another dent in Shawn's life.

Shawn was reckless when faced with emotion. But reckless never meant silence, not for a Hunter. So why hadn't Cory heard something yet?

"Hey," Topanga sidled up beside him and placed a hand on Cory's shoulder. "Everything okay?"

"I haven't heard from Shawn."

But Topanga already knew this. Just as she knew that Cory was not going to be appeased until he saw his best friend well and in one piece.

"Shawn will be fine. He's always been fine, Cory."

The words were more to fill the silence than an actual assurance. Shawn was alive—probably—if that's what Topanga meant by "fine", but Cory doubted she truly knew how many times even that wouldn't have been true.

Maybe Cory should have told someone that he'd found Shawn passed out cold one too many times. Or that he was constantly worried that his friend was finally going to snap, to leave one day and never come back. But Shawn had made him promise not to tell, and if there was one thing Cory was… semi-good at, it was covering for Shawn.

"I think I'm gonna try another call. He's bound to pick up one of these times," Cory finally said.


Turner stretched his arm around the back of the couch and allowed it to fall on Sarah's shoulders as their heads pressed together. It felt good being able to relax now that the stress of wedding planning was out of the way. The couple had spent the last two and a half weeks making sure everything was taken care of, now they could enjoy each other's company as they awaited the day. At the moment it was a blessing to just sit together and enjoy the peace and quiet.

The phone rang from the stand behind them. Okay, maybe not peace and quiet, but close enough. He'd just let the phone ring, more likely than not it was a telemarketer, and if it was important they could leave a message.

"Hello. This is the Philadelphia Police Department speaking." A voice emitted from the machine.

Sarah lifted her head as she shot Jon a confused look, her nose wrinkling.

"They probably got the wrong number. I don't make a habit of breaking laws…" Turner smirked. "Well, I don't make a habit of getting caught after breaking them."

A soft laugh bubbled from Sarah's mouth. "That's right, my conniving snake. You wouldn't want to bring the fuzz down on you and your soon to be wife." Her eyebrows lifted as she enunciated each word with a twang.

The machine crackled again. "I'm Officer Donovon of the Philadelphia Police Department. If we've reached the residence of Jonothan Turner we insist upon a prompt response."

Jonathan shot to his feet, Sarah right behind him as he made his way to the answering machine. It took him longer than it should have to locate the button to take the call, his hand bouncing from one side to the next as he skimmed over the button again and again.

"Uh… hello. Officer Donovon is it?" He said, voice slightly shaking as finally managed to answer.

"Yeah, that would be me. You Jonothan Turner?"

"Yes," Jonathan breathed. "Am I in trouble?" He tried to play it off as a joke, but he could feel his heart pick up speed at the use of his name for a second time.

Sarah met his eyes in question, but he had no answer. If the officer replied with an affirmative Jonathan knew no more than his fiance did.

"No trouble that I know of," Officer Donovon answered.

Well, at least there was that.

Officer Donovan began again, in a matter of fact tone. "I have you listed as an emergency contact of a Shawn Patrick Hunter. Is that correct?"

Shawn Hunter? Jonathan felt a tug at the seam of his control. What could the kid have gotten himself into that would require a call from the cops—a call to Turner, not his parents? And just as the thought slipped into most of his days, Jonathan found himself wishing that he'd found a way to hang onto Shawn. He shouldn't have let him go back with his father, not after what he'd seen of the family… not with his suspicions that more went on behind the closed doors of an inconspicuous trailer.

"Mr. Turner, you still there?"

Sarah placed a hand on his shoulder, appearing even more confused now but still as strong as ever. A post to tie his fraying thread to.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm here," he answered.

"You Shawn Hunter's emergency number?" Officer Donovon repeated.

Turner nodded. "Yes, yeah, I am. Is he okay?"

"Probably a lot better now that we've contacted you. We got the kid down at the station now."

At the station? That couldn't be good.

"I'll be right there," Turner bit out as the line cut.

Standing over the phone, Jonathan tried to remember how to move; he had never realized how much you had to think to operate your body, but he swore he could feel his brain's gears turning. He needed to get to the station, he reminded himself, needed to get Shawn, but he wondered if he actually wanted to find out what had caused the young man to find himself there.

Again, Turner noted. He's found himself at a police station again.

Sarah, who had never removed her hand from his shoulder, offered a tight squeeze. "Come on, let's go," she said, voice level. "I'll drive."


Shawn sat with his feet planted on the floor, arms clutching the sides of the chair. The station's front room was of a decent size, with three rows of chairs lining the space, yet few people occupied it. There was an older couple seated on the side of the room farthest from him, heads together in silent comfort. And a woman, maybe in her mid 30s, standing at the desk, talking with the officer on duty. They were discussing someone's bail if Shawn had to guess. The woman clutched a kid in her arms, swinging him back and forth as she talked.

Without even knowing her name Shawn saw her story stretch before his eyes: single mother struggling to balance the care of her kids and working enough hours to keep them on their feet. Her husband had recently passed away or walked out on them, and she was regretting not going for a college degree so she could hold down a better job. Her youngest still needed constant care, and that took a toll on their income. To add to the pressure, the child that was capable of helping around the house was off doing who knew what and ending up in jail.

His story was affirmed, at least in part, when a teen about his age was brought out to join the woman and baby. His head was lowered as he shuffled out of the building behind his mother, accepting the words of exasperation being thrown at him.

That's one heck of a grounding you'll be getting, Shawn thought, but he couldn't find it in him to feel pity for the other boy. At least he had a mom ground him.

"Shawn!"

Lifting his head slowly, Shawn spotted Jack entering through the swinging double door behind him. He'd called his brother when the cops had given him the opportunity to use the phone. Jack wasn't necessarily the face he wanted to see, but he couldn't ask anyone else; after probably disrupting Alan's birthday by not showing up, he wasn't going to make them drive down to the station to pick him up.

He got to his feet, giving a quick nod but saying nothing as Jack approached. Shawn struggled to meet his brother's eyes, he hated the look of disappointment that seemed to sear through his skin.

"What were you thinking, Shawn? Driving?" Jack let out a frustrated chuckle. "You don't have your license! There is a reason they don't let people on the road without a license, Shawn!"

"I'm fine, thanks for asking," Shawn snarked.

"Oh, don't be like that."

"Be like what? You could at least pretend to care about me before you start your preaching."

Jack shook his head. "Unbelievable. Do you think I would be down here if I didn't care about you? You probably don't know this, but I'm not normally one to hang out at a police station at nine p.m. for kicks."

Shawn's fingers found the cuffs of his leather jacket, snaking around them before trying to retreat into the material. "Yeah…well, I didn't want to be here either, okay." The words sounded meak, even to his own ears.

His brother rubbed at his face before releasing a sigh. "No, you don't. Arguing here isn't going to do us any good anyway."

"Okay… pay the bail and we can argue on the way back." Shawn gave a tentative smile.

"Yeah." Jack's hand raked across his face again. "About that… Shawn I don't have the money on me to cover the bail. Not now anyway. I'll need to talk to my stepdad and have him send some money over or something."

Shawn frowned. That was not ideal.

"How long will that take?"

"There's no way anything will happen until at least tomorrow morning. I'm sorry, Shawn."

Okay, not ideal at all.

"So, what? I just stay here for the night?" Shawn tried not to let the hurt seep into his voice. This wasn't Jack's fault, it was his own.

"Afraid so. Unless you let me tell the Matthews what happened. I'm sure they wouldn't mind lending the money, and we'd pay it back."

Shawn shook his head. If he was sentenced an execution he wouldn't ask the Matthews to bail him out. Besides, what was one night?

Jack sat in one of the seats and gestured for Shawn to do the same. The younger brother obliged with some hesitance. How long did Jack have before he had to leave? It crossed Shawn's mind to ask why Jack came down in the first place, if he already knew he wouldn't be able to get him out, but he didn't want Jack to take that as a dismissal and leave him all alone. Not yet anyway.

The brothers sat in silence until Jack was informed that he'd been there long enough. He didn't care, Shawn tried to reason with himself. He'd been alone most of his life, one more night wouldn't kill him. And as far as location, at least he had a roof over his head, that couldn't be said for some of the places he'd stayed.

"Look, I'll get everything sorted as early as I can tomorrow and come down here immediately after, okay?" Jack said by way of farewell.

Shawn tried to smile. "Well, don't lose any sleep over me. Make sure you get that eight hours of beauty rest you're always going on about."

"Maybe it'd do you some good to lose some sleep," Jack teased. His face suddenly became somber. "Listen, Shawn, I know I'm just your half brother, but we are family. You have got to stop believing that you are alone in this world, because I'm here. And I don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon."

But you will. Just like everyone else you'll leave eventually.

"I'm also not going to get into the habit of getting you out of these kinds of situations, so please try to keep your nose clean," Jack added, turning to leave.

Shawn rolled his eyes. He hated when Jack talked like that. Maybe his brother meant it as a joke, but it came off as if he thought Shawn was destined for a life of criminal activity. "You haven't even gotten me out yet, maybe hold up on the 'not doing this again' talk until you've actually done it."

The words came out sounding angrier than he wanted them to. Oh well, the worst Jack could do was take his time working out the bail.

Jack said a quick "whatever" under his breath as he stalked to the swinging door.

"Hunter, you've been bailed," the officer behind the desk stated.

Jack stopped in his tracks.

Shawn almost laughed, remembering when he'd run into his father at a station a couple years earlier. Almost word for word the officer then informed Shawn that he was free to go. Then Turner had walked through the door, looking like a cross between hero and villain in his leather jacket, helmet clutched under his arm.

That's when the true meaning of the words hit Shawn. He was bailed… that meant he could leave with Jack. He didn't have to spend the night there.

"Shawn?"

His head lifted at the sound of the familiar voice. And there walking through the swinging door, right past Jack and the old couple still seated at the back, was Turner. Wearing that same leather jacket, as if no time had passed. His expression was one of concern more than anger. He didn't stop walking until he collided with Shawn, wrapping his arms around him.

Shawn tensed. He didn't like hugs. You only got a hug when someone was walking out on you and didn't know when they'd see you again. But Turner had just walked in. He definitely wasn't expecting that one.

Shawn pushed away from his former teacher. "Mr. Turner? What are you doing here?"

Turner canted his head. "Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?"

Shawn felt Jack return to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry…who are you?" Jack asked Turner with a frown.


"Jonathan Turner." He extended his hand to the boy, who looked to be not much older than Shawn. "And you are?"

"I'm Jack. Jack Hunter." The boy responded, allowing the words to sink in as he reached for Jonathan's hand. "Shawn's brother."

Of every possible scenario Turner had played out in his mind. This was not one of them.

To Jonathan the whole trip to the station had felt surreal, half way between a dream and a time warp. He remembered making the same trip to the station nearly four years ago, planning to pick Shawn up and ground him for a week or two. Only when he'd arrived he'd found Chet there as well, ready to take on the responsibility of his boy, or so he claimed. Again.

And Jonathan had let him take him back. Again.

Not this time, he'd convinced himself, Shawn was going back to his apartment, whether his dad tried to stand in the way or not.

So, he'd gotten to the station, confident in his course of action. Confident he would finally be able to make up for letting Shawn go.

Now standing between him and his former student, was yet another Hunter. A brother apparently.

Turner acknowledged that with some shock. He'd always thought Shawn was an only child. In fact, in all the time Shawn had stayed with him he'd never once mentioned anything about having a brother. He had so many questions regarding Jack, but it didn't feel like the right time. Not in a police station with an officer watching their every interaction.

"A Hunter, of course. Let me guess…you'd be obliged if I could bail you out as well?" Turner recalled Chet saying something along those lines before.

"Uh…no? I was actually just leaving," Shawn's brother said furrowing his brow, like he was trying to figure out if he should be insulted by the assumption.

The three men—and Turner reminded himself with some surprise that Shawn was in fact a man now—stood in silence for a moment. Though awkward, the lapse in words gave him the chance to evaluate what four years had done to Shawn, and he had to admit he looked…cared for? His clothes didn't hang off him quite as much as they used to, and the bags under his eyes that had once seemed a part of him were no longer visible. But something seemed off about him. Something Turner couldn't pinpoint. Something behind his eyes, in the way he stood.

Shawn cleared his throat suddenly, and it occurred to Jonathan that he'd been staring.

"I don't know about you both, but I'm heading out before that guy," Shawn pointed to the officer who was still standing behind the desk watching them, "changes his mind about letting me go."

Jack nodded. "Yeah, let's get out of here. You're really depleting my eight hours, you know?" The boy nudged Shawn's arm and gave a cheeky smile, clearly sharing an inside joke.

"Um…thanks for the bail, I appreciate it, Mr. Turner. Sorry to make you drive all the way down here." Shawn chuckled awkwardly.

Jonathan still didn't know what the young man had done to put him there in the first place. As much as he would have loved to ask, it didn't seem appropriate to bring up, at least not there. "It was no problem at all. I'm glad I could come."

"And we can definitely pay it back. I'll talk to my dad tomorrow and we'll work things out from there?"

With that Shawn turned toward the door and, like a condemned man offered one final chance at life, sprinted out. Jack quickly trailed him, throwing a wave over his shoulder. They were gone so fast Turner almost believed he hadn't seen them at all. He took long strides until he was clear of the officer's watchful eyes, where he ran through the rest of the halls, hoping to catch the boys before they were truly gone.

Breaking into fresh air, Turner saw Shawn walking towards the passenger side of a truck as Jack rounded the front towards the driver's door.

"Hey, Shawn. Wait up!"

The boy froze, gaze flicking to Turner.

Jonathan cleared the space between them, resting his hand on Shawn's shoulder. "You've grown up these last couple of years." He chuckled.

Shawn shrugged his hand off as he took a few steps back. "Yeah…I've heard kids do that. Look away for a second and, bam, they are completely different people."

His tone was light, but Turner had known Shawn long enough to hear the bitterness hidden beneath it. Probably due to his own parents who were more out of his life than in it, Jonathan thought.

"That's true. I guess that just makes it all the more special when you do look back," Turner replied.

Shawn rolled his eyes, but nodded to the statement all the same. "Did you need something, Mr. Turner?" Again the words were friendly enough, but seemed too clipped.

"Well no, not really. I'd like to catch up with you at some point, Shawn. Maybe go out for dinner, or coffee, I don't know…hang? What do you say?"

Turner could almost see Shawn physically recoil as his hands found the cuffs of his leather jacket.

"I mean, yeah sure. I'm pretty busy, uh…school? Who knew it was so inescapable?" Shawn chuckled. He took another step backwards, inching closer to the truck.

"Of course, of course. Well…I haven't changed my number, you know, if you ever catch a moment of free time."

"Yeh. We'll see. Um… thanks again. Bye, Mr. Turner."

"See you around, Shawn. Call me!"

Turner watched as Shawn climbed into the truck and rolled away. Slowly at first, then faster, and faster until he was well and truly gone. Just another car on the road. A blip in the universe. But this wasn't good bye.

Jonathan made his way back to his own car, joining Sarah. She studied him with her bottom lip between her teeth and her fingers thrumming against the steering wheel. It was as if the woman could take a walk through his soul and step away with answers. After a moment she reached for his hand, caressing it gently.

"You okay, babe?" She whispered.

He never said my name. A little voice in the back of his head answered.

Turner nodded.

"He's the kid you told me about, isn't he? The one you were going to adopt?"

The one that keeps slipping through my fingers.

Turner nodded.

"Is he alright then?"

I don't know. "I don't know. I really don't know."

He let his head fall back against the headrest while Sarah started the car. If he hadn't been so distracted he would have offered to drive back. But if he'd arrived at the station with questions, he'd left with even more. Namely why he had to bail the kid out in the first place. He also wanted to know more about that Jack character—maybe they were brothers, but maybe they weren't, Turner had never heard of him. But above all else he wanted to know if Shawn was okay, because in all the time he had known the young Hunter, he'd only known him to act out when something was really bugging him.