Ryan's morning's had fallen into a sort of strange routine. Wake up in pain, take pain killers, limp to bathroom, limp to house, ignore Seth, be given bagel, eat bagel, fall back to sleep. He felt like he was walking or least hobbling through a strange sort of fog. Time seemed to pass in a strange sort of drip like motion, sometimes minutes seemed to barely pass, other times entire hours would be gone down the drain. He knew Seth was going to school, and Kirsten and Sandy would leave for work, although they would come home constantly throughout the day to check on him, and called him in between. He mostly lay on the couch while the TV blared noisily at him and he stared blankly at the bright screen, barely comprehending even the simplest of plot lines.

Dinner was served every night at the table, but Ryan never made it there. By about four o'clock he had usually given up on trying to be social with the family and retreated to the pool house, where Kirsten or Sandy would bring him dinner, and try to coax him into a conversation. By seven o'clock he would usually be asleep, waking up at least once during the night, his knee jolting him awake with wracking waves of pain until he took another pill.

Luke had called. Marissa had called. Twice. Even Summer had called him once. When had she gotten his number? But he didn't have the energy or motivation to actually answer their phone calls. He sent Luke a text, saying thanks again. Everyone else he just ignored.

The week slowly passed, and every day the pain seemed to get a little bit better, and life wasn't so bad. Of course, being high on pain killers the whole time didn't hurt. He would see Seth occasionally sneaking guilty glances towards him, but he ignored them. If Seth had something to come out and say, then he should come out and say it. Period. Ryan and no interest in absolving him without a least some form of an apology.

One morning, he awoke to find Kirsten by his bed side, she was rousing him for a visit to the orthopedist who had been recommended by Dr. Robert's as the best in Orange County, but an appointment had been impossible to get, and or at least would have been impossible had Dr. Robert's not pulled a few strings at Kirsten's behest. She explained all this, as she tried to get him up, dressed and into to the car, not an easy task these days.

Ryan hated car rides with the uncomfortable full- leg brace that had completely immobilized his leg. He would sit in the front, with the seat pushed back as far as possible, but he always managed to bump it or nudge it and even the smallest jolt from a pot hole or speed bump made him cringe. Worst of all, the Doctor had requested that he not take any pain killers prior to the appointment so he could do a full assessment, so he hadn't taken anything since about 2am that morning, nearly 10 hours ago. The longest he had been without them since he had gotten home. The fuzz around his head was gradually clearing, but all that seemed to do was let in the pain.

Kirsten helped him from the car and they made their way into the enormous complex where Dr. Samuels had his office. Ryan was silent as they rode the elevator up, praying silently for good news, or a miracle might be nice. Wasn't Chrismakkah just around the corner?

"Nervous?" Kirsten asked him.

Ryan shrugged as well as he could with the crutches wedged into his armpits, "What can he tell me that would be worse than anything I've already heard?"

Kirsten sighed sympathetically, she too hoping for good news, Ryan seemed so defeated and depressed, sleeping upwards of twelve hours a day. She knew his body needed rest, but it was just so unlike the Ryan she had come to know. He had always had a fire inside of him, and now that fire seemed to be dying. Maybe Dr. Samuels would have a way to give him back a little spark.

They had to wait in line at the front desk, and Kirsten could feel Ryan getting antsy and tense. His knee must have been hurting, without any painkillers and being forced to stand like this, even though it wasn't as though he were actually putting any weight on it, he only seemed comfortable at home when he could keep the leg in an elevated position.

Finally they checked in and were informed that the doctor was running behind, the wait would be at least half an hour. Ryan wanted to turn around and go home the moment he heard that, but Kirsten nudged him towards the chair and he managed to lower himself into it. Kirsten found him a Sport's Illustrated that wasn't too far out of date, and settled down with a People for herself, along with a stack of forms about insurance and how the injury had occurred. Ryan read listlessly about professional athletes in the height of their physical prowess, and felt little sympathy for the reports of a sprained ankle of a basketball player and tendonitis in the shoulder of a baseball player.

Finally it was there turn to be seen, and Ryan got painfully to his feet and shuffled to the door that was being held open for them, and they were shown to a room where a nurse took his blood pressure and temperature and then told them the doctor would be in to seem them shortly.

Ryan lay down, and closed his eyes, bending his good knee and trying to keep the injured one as still as possible. He had almost fallen asleep, when the doctor came in and slowly opened his eyes.

"Ryan? Mrs. Atwood?" A woman with a blonde ponytail bustled in, staring down at the chart.

"It's Cohen," Ryan correct her.

"What?" The woman glanced up, she wore frameless glasses and had a rosebud mouth and bright blue eyes.

"I'm Atwood, she's Cohen." The sentence had exhausted him, and his eyes slid shut of their own accord.

"Oh, I see," She went back to looking at his chart. Kirsten reached into her pocketbook and pulled out a CD with his x- rays and his MRI. Without a word, Dr. Samuels took the disk and popped it into her computer and began to look it over, taking quick notes. "On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?"

"Right now?" Ryan asked.

"Yes,"

"Like a seven or an eight, I guess." He hated that stupid scale.

"That's a pretty bad break, but your lucky, it wasn't complete or that bone would have separated and you would have needed surgery." She was peering at his x- rays on her computer, Ryan had opened one eye to get a better view of what she was doing.

"Okay…" She stood and came over to the table

"Can you sit up and raise that leg for me?" Ryan, with a slight gasp of pain, managed to do a straight leg raise.

"Alright the muscular skeletal structure is intact. You're taking… Vicodin, correct?"

"Yes,"

"Alright, I'm going to give you something else, we don't want that stuff eating through your stomach." She scribbled something down on a prescription pad. "Also, I want you start physical therapy, the sooner you start moving the less likely you will be to lose mobility in that knee." She scribbled something else out on a separate sheet. "My office can make recommendations for physical therapist." She then turned and examined the knee brace, "I'm going to put you in brace with ROM hinges, so you can start working on your flex range." Ryan and Kirsten nodded numbly, they had no idea what this woman was talking about. She then departed the room.

"Uh… Are we supposed to go?" Ryan asked.

"No, I don't think so," Kirsten patted his good leg, "I think we're supposed to wait here. She needs to get you a new brace."

"Oh… Right…" Ryan sighed, "She's not very friendly is she?"

"She seems very busy…" Kirsten said, trying to comfort Ryan. She could tell he was tired and in pain. It was awhile before she returned, carrying another enormous brace that looked no more comfortable than the one he already had on.

"Alright, this brace might be a little better for you, it's designed for these types of injuries specifically."

"These happen a lot?" Ryan asked, moderately surprised.

"I wouldn't say they're common, but you're not the first and I doubt you'll be the last." Dr. Samuel's said. "But usually they require surgery, like I said, you're lucky. It's because you're young, the bone was less brittle,"

"Lucky… yeah…"

"Like I said," Dr. Samuel's reminded him, "It could have been much worse." She said, as she gently undid the Velcro binding his leg.