Author's Note: More Best of Intentions by the holidays. Promise. I'll try and have it wrapped up in a pretty bow.
This is "filler fic" for episode 4.01 "The Avengers"
Unbeta'd. My bad.
As always, thanks for reading.
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Five Months
By muchtvs
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June has never been very good to Ryan Atwood.
In June, he got caught stealing a car.
In June, his mother gave him away.
In June, Theresa got pregnant.
In June, Trey was shot.
On Thursday, June 1st, Marissa dies.
The momentum inside Ryan begins to build.
It already has a foundation set solid from years of mistrust and pain and failure and insecurity and self-doubt.
This newest June tragedy, Marissa's death, claws and scales its way to the top of the others.
To be crowned 'King of the Mountain'.
And it's in June, that Ryan stops talking.
He moves out.
Kirsten cries and Ryan doesn't care.
Sandy asks, "Where are you going? Can you possibly slow down one second so we can sit and talk about this as a family?"
Ryan tells him to get the hell out of his way.
Seth offers to go with him, help him carry his only bag, because it looks really, really heavy, all what with his five t-shirts and assorted two pairs of jeans. He offers to go with Ryan, to help him find the nearest 7-11 so Ryan can re-stock his supply of microwavable burritos and then maybe, he could stay with Ryan a little while, to help him decorate his new 'crib'…..or his park bench…or wherever or whatever he plans on calling home sweet home.
Seth follows him all the way out to the shiny new Jeep that's parked in front of the Cohen's driveway.
"Let me just go with you man, help you get settled."
Ryan slams the car door in his brother's face.
Seth's words, his voice, his expectations of friendship, hurt Ryan's very skin.
He can't tolerate any of the Cohens presence for one minute longer.
All of their hovering, all of their forced smiles, all of their sympathy.
He can't stand anyone who might look at him, and somehow see Marissa.
He finds work in a seedy bar, cleaning tables, listening to drunks, carrying kegs.
"I had a kid brother that died in a drive-by," the owner tell him. "You remind me of him. If you got no where else to go, there's a storage room in the back. Nothing fancy."
"I'll take it," Ryan answers.
There are lots of places he could go, lots of other towns.
But he stays close to Newport.
In July, he climbs into the cage.
Ryan hadn't planned on it.
It was an accident.
Someone didn't show up and they needed a last second replacement.
At first he actually fights back, intending to win every match. But then one night, he takes on an opponent way too massive and gets the fuck beat out of him.
He's unconscious, they tell him, for almost five minutes.
His eye is bleeding and his head is killing him and nothing strips a man of his pride faster or stings more than having his ass kicked in public.
This…he realizes…this is exactly what he's been searching for.
Eventually, inevitably, Sandy finds him.
His friends on the police force have been keeping an eye out for Ryan's license plates since the day he left.
"You could have at least called," Sandy says, not even trying to hide his anger. "You owe us that much. We have earned the right to know you're safe."
He's right, he's right, yes…he's right.
God, Ryan knows that.
"Did you even think about Kirsten? She's been an emotional wreck, worrying about you. We're all…worried about you."
Clean the dirty glasses.
Wipe beer off the bar.
Don't listen, don't listen, don't listen.
Don't even nod.
Don't think.
Don't acknowledge a single thing he's saying.
"I'm checking on you once a week," Sandy tells him. "I don't care if you want me to or not. And I'm letting Kirsten and Seth know where you are. If you think we can walk away from you, the same as you've walked away from us, you're dead wrong. It doesn't work that way. And if you're not going to come home with me, I expect you to stay here. I am asking you, out of respect for me and for the sake of my wife and son, to please not make me search for you again.. Do not ever put us through that again."
In reaction to Sandy's words, Ryan repacks his bag.
Throws it in the back of the jeep.
Drives all the way to the Nevada border.
Fuck Sandy's demands.
Fuck it all.
He's eighteen now.
Sandy has no power over him.
But Ryan turns around.
He doesn't want to be alone.
Not really.
Not forever.
He can tell himself that he doesn't need anyone and that the Cohens don't matter and that it's for the best, for everyone, if he disappears.
But deep down, where he can still remember what it's like to have people who care about him, Ryan doesn't want to be all alone
Not really.
And he hates himself for that weakness.
So when he gets back to the bar, he's has two fights that night instead of one.
The first guy is big and the second guy is bigger and it's not until his head is swimming and several of his teeth are threatening a walkout and the white mat is smeared red with his blood, that Ryan can live with his decision to stay in Newport.
In August, Seth starts coming around, bringing care package after care package from Kirsten.
"Hi," Seth says. "Long time no see."
"Summer is leaving for Brown in a week. She'd love to say goodbye."
"Oh, and my job is going ok. I mean really, it's more about educating the public than actual sales. You would not believe the overwhelming ignorance of the American consumer when it comes to superhero sub-genre. It's disturbing."
"Um…and my dad said to say 'Hello' and to remind you, for the six millionth time, that we have yet to find a new pool house tenant and that you are always welcome to re-instate squatting rights."
Ryan listens to every word of it and with each syllable, his blood pressure rises and why can't any of them understand that the closer they try and get to him, the further away he wants to be.
"Go home, Seth. You don't belong here."
"Come with me, Ryan. You don't belong here either. We'll give you as much space as you need. We promise. We just want you home."
But life goes forward, not reverse.
He can't go back to the Cohens and he can't make Marissa be alive and he can't stand thinking about any of it.
In the cage, he comes damn close to having his cheek and jaw broken.
When a waitress offers him an icepack, Ryan waves her off.
He doesn't deserve the reprieve from pain.
He doesn't want it.
In September, Julie walks into the bar and plunks herself down and orders a drink to wash down her Valium.
"What are you doing here," Ryan asks.
Voice dull.
Eyes barely glancing in her direction.
"Shopping for a set of Milano beer mugs," she says sarcastically, her own voice dull, her own eyes barely glancing in anyone's direction. "Don't be a smart ass. I'm not in the mood. You know why I'm here. We both want the same thing."
She leans in close, way, way over the wooden bar, and whispers into his ear a plan of conspiracy and revenge and primal justice.
Ryan listens but he's not ready to hear any of it.
Not yet.
"Go away," he tells her. "Don't come back."
Julie looks betrayed.
Don't think about it.
Don't think about how much she resembles her daughter.
Don't think about Marissa.
Don't talk.
Don't feel.
Don't remember.
Don't hope for better.
Don't even think about forgiveness or revenge, not for yourself or Volchok.
Don't answer Kirsten's phone calls.
Don't thank Sandy for caring enough to come by every Monday and asking, "How are you doing, kid?"
Don't answer the door when Seth bangs on it.
Sleep.
Work.
Fight.
Sometimes in the cage, Ryan has to win. Because if he doesn't, they won't let him fight anymore.
There's no money in betting on someone who loses every night.
He becomes the ultimate wild card.
The bar's best freak show.
People come in droves to see which side of the coin is going to be flipped by the crazy kid.
Heads he wins.
Tails he bleeds.
"Do you have a death wish?" The boss asks. "You seem like a nice guy. Why don't you stop all this shit, go back with your family. I wish my mom or dad would have tried to save my brother before it was too late for him. You're lucky that people care enough to come looking for you."
Ryan stares blank and the man never asks again about why he stays at the bar instead of going home.
Never mentions another word about it.
Just leaves him alone and lets Ryan do his job and live in the storage room and climb into the cage and periodically get his brains bashed in.
In October, it all starts to fall apart.
Julie won't stop calling. She's hired a private detective.
Seth knocks on the door until his constant pounding can't be ignored.
Kirsten sends more and more care packages full of boxed cereal and canned food and bottled vitamins and each of the bags arrive with a little note.
"I miss you."
"Are you eating?"
"Please spend some time with us."
"We love you."
"Come home."
Sandy visits him more than just on Mondays.
It starts with a random Wednesday night and now he's in the bar every Saturday afternoon, ordering a single wheat beer and leaving a fifty dollar tip.
Everyone, everything is closing in.
Ryan's losing in the cage more and more often.
He only wins enough to satisfy the repeat customers.
He peels himself up off the mat every night and takes additional punishment, even when the people that have bet money on him to win, are screaming, "Stupid kid, just stay down."
And despite it all, all five months of seclusion and exile and sweating and bleeding, and pushing everyone away, Ryan finds that nothing is better.
Everything is worse.
Marissa is still gone and it hurts so bad that it feels like his insides are always on fire.
He can't cry for her, it's just not something he does.
He throws away all her pictures, but that doesn't make the memories stop coming.
Nothing changes anything.
He can't shed enough blood to cleanse his wounds.
Julie calls one night just as Sandy is knocking on the storage room door.
Ryan's got no pride left, so crawling out the side window, sneaking away like a fucking five year old from the man who once saved him is no big deal.
Just drive away as fast as you can.
Don't think.
Don't wonder if you even know who you are.
What you've become.
In the motel, Julie shows him the red folder.
He can't help her.
Not yet.
But the walls are crumbling.
Not even the cage and its barbaric hierarchy can give him what he needs anymore.
Seth brings another bag.
Kirsten sends another note.
Sandy won't take no for an answer much longer.
Ryan knows how to be an asshole and he knows how to be numb and he knows that he can always still get in his jeep and drive to Nevada.
No one is forcing him to remain.
But he doesn't want to be alone.
Not really.
Not deep down.
Maybe Trey would call him a pussy for staying and maybe his mom would live permanently in the bar and drink it all away and maybe his dad would have hunt Volchok down a long time ago and had the balls to kill him, to finish it once and for all.
Maybe if he spends a couple more nights having the shit beat out of him, he'll figure it all out.
Then out of the blue, Summer shows up saying, "Just come with me Atwood."
And he goes.
Seth says, "Just watch the show."
And he does.
Kirsten says, "Thank you for giving me back my family."
And Ryan doesn't turn away from her.
Sandy says, "The pool house is a little too empty."
And Ryan says, "Thank you."
Nothing is solved.
But at least he's admitted to himself that he's too old, he's matured too much over these past few years, to continue to resort to his childish coping mechanisms of running away and avoiding.
At least he admits to himself that the Cohens have become more to him than just landlords.
He wins his last fight in the cage.
Unleashing hundreds of days worth of self-loathing and undirected anger and confusion and frustration and regret.
Then he goes to Marissa's grave and spends a minute alone with her, apologizing for not going to her funeral. Knowing she, of all people, would accept his absence.
When Julie arrives, he takes the red folder from her.
He knows he shouldn't.
He knows this isn't what the Cohens want for him and he knows, in the end, that this isn't what he or Julie needs.
But he's spent the last five months trying to think of a better plan and he can't come up with a single thing.
So when Marissa's mother asks, "What changed your mind."
He tells her, "I just realized. I have to do this."
He goes back to the Cohens.
Walks into the pool house.
Looks around.
Isn't sure this is where he should be but doesn't know where else to go.
He thinks about handing the folder over to Sandy.
He thinks about asking Kirsten to help him get his life back together and reapply to Berkeley.
He thinks about making the right decisions instead of impulsive ones.
But he's more Atwood than Cohen.
Always will be.
Marissa is dead and someone needs to pay the price.
Eye for an eye, life for a life, and justice for all.
Don't think about the fact that you have choices other than Mexico.
Don't think about Sandy's disappointment.
Don't think about the emotional ramifications to Kirsten.
Just pack.
Just get in the jeep.
Just go.
Don't think about anything,
Don't feel.
Most especially don't listen to Seth, when he tells you repeatedly that it's not too late to turn around.
To change your mind and go back home.
Just keep driving and driving and ignoring and pretending and lying to yourself.
Keep telling yourself .
That you're still not running away.