A/N: I started this story the episode before the birth of John, and named the baby Ryan at that point. However, I've even managed to confuse myself as I work on future chapters, so I've edited this chapter so that the baby's name is John again.

It's taken me a while to get this chapter finished because I work and come back, work and come back, and so forth. So anyway,

So Hollow

Chapter 1

Can't Do This

Ricky looked down at the baby inside of the incubator, gulping. He was too afraid to even remotely move any closer to the baby. Everything around him seemed to burn in this anxiety, even Amy.

"M-my baby," Amy croaked softly, looking up at Ricky momentarily. He stood there, looking at her, and then back at the baby, frozen. Amy looked at him, confused. "Ricky, give me my baby," she spoke with a sense of order in her voice. Still, he stood rigid, not moving, barely even showing that he was breathing.

Amy forced herself to sit up, wincing a little bit, but she pushed through the pain. Her mother stood at the door, walking in as she realized he was unresponsive.

"Mom, what's wrong with him? Why won't he answer me?!" She gulped, scared to death. What was he doing? What if he attacked John?

Anne took several step forwards, gently placing a hand on Ricky's shoulder. A shiver rippled through him, but he didn't emotionally react.

Loren and Madison walked in the room, only long enough for Amy to bark at them. "Loren, get your dad!"

She dashed from the room, returning several minutes later with her father at her side. "What's going on? Wha-" He cut off in his sentence as he saw Ricky standing there like a statue.

"Get down already!" Bob screamed in Ricky's face, pushing him back once more.

Shivers rattled through Ricky as he did as he was told, wincing as a belt slapped across his back again and again. "You'll never learn, will you!? You'll never learn to get it right!!!! I guess we'll just have to continue this for the rest of your damned life!!"

Ricky whimpered, shaking his head. He quickly regretted it as the belt caught his face, digging into and cutting his face. Bob's foot then connected into his ribs, throwing him into his bedpost. "I…hate you."

Bob grabbed Ricky by the back of his neck, kicking him several times more before tossing him forward. His head crashed into the wall, leaving a slight dent, as Bob towered over him…

Rick gulped as things settled around him. Unconsciously, he realized, he'd been repeating the same two phrases over and over during the last few minutes. 'No. stop, please.'

Bob rounded the corner into the room, smirking as Ricky froze completely. Ricky's breath locked in his throat, not allowing him to breathe as he stared into the eyes of the man who had done this to him.

Lauren's father looked at her, asking who Bob was.

"NO!" Ricky screamed louder than he intended to, shaking like a leaf as he looked at Bob. He had that cold stare in his eyes that Ricky knew all too well.

"I suggest you get out of here, right now," Dr. Fields growled to Bob. Bob laughed, never taking his eyes off of Ricky.

"Ricky lies, alright? I don't know what he's told you, but it's not true. He acts all innocent, but he's far from it. Hell, he got a fifteen year old girl pregnant and then abandoned her. I just wanted to show my support to that particular girl. Alright!?" His words dripped with hatred as he finished his statement, attempting to stare Dr. Fields down.

"Yes, and that's why the boy has been has been in therapy for nine years," Dr. Fields hissed back. He hated this man already. All he and Ricky had worked on in almost a decade was quickly being torn to shreds.

Ricky stormed from the room, walking as fast as he could to get away, but half a dozen footsteps over powered the sound of his own, one set dangerously close. His eyes darted around for a door to run into, and luckily, he spotted one. He gulped, reaching forward quickly. As he reached the empty room, he turned to close the door, just as Bob reached the door.

He shoved Ricky easily backwards with one hand, and forced himself into the room, slamming the door shut and locking it. Ricky started to charge at him, but Bob elbowed him the ribs and then turned, hitting him repeatedly in the head and chest until Ricky finally fell to the floor, gasping for air.

Bob took the time free to move the large dresser against the door, blocking everyone out completely as it caught under the doorknob.

Ricky retched as Bob kicked him in the throat and then continued beating on Ricky. "Apparently I didn't teach you how to be a man, you little bitch!"

"No! You touch that kid and you'll never see the light of day outside again!!!"

Bob laughed at what they were screaming as Ricky tried to push away from him, but he held him tightly.

"And finally, when I couldn't take it anymore, when I hated him so much that I didn't care if I lived or died, I told my teacher…"

Ricky screamed in agony as fists connected with any part of his body that his father could get at, while also torturing his body in the most masochistic way possible. "No. I said no…I always say no," he whimpered softly.

He tried to remember his night with Amy; to remember what his son looked like. He didn't block out his pain well enough, however, as his father began smashing Ricky's head against the floor. He hit the baseboard on the wall multiple times however, slicing the front and left side of his head open. It ran down into his eyes, blinding him to what his father was doing.

Ricky closed his eyes, resting his head against the floor as his father "finished", letting him go. He pulled a pocket knife from Ricky's jeans, flipping it out and walking back over to Ricky. He knelt down over his wounded son, holding the knife against Ricky's throat.

"This ISN'T done." With that, he lifted the knife, driving it into Ricky's right hip and dragging it over a few inches before he pulled the blade out, flipping it shut. Ricky buckled forward in agony, feeling blood flooding out of him, onto the floor and all over his boxers. Bob laughed, pushing the bed forward and overturning it on Ricky. It collapsed, dropping over his right leg which lay limply still on the ground. His father had paralyzed it some how.

Finally, Bob moved the dresser back to where it was, locking the door once more before he walked over to the window and hopped out…

In moments, cops had the door opened and Dr. Fields was at Ricky's side along with six doctors and several nurses. Anne, Ashley, Ben, Lauren, and Madison all stood at the doorway, watching in awe, and seeing Ricky in a true light for what seemed like the very first time. Lauren gulped, seeing her father in tears as he tried to calm his patient of almost six years.

"He….blood everywhere," Ricky mumbled, trying to move the oxygen mask off of his face.

Dr. Fields shook his head, placing his hand protectively over Ricky's. "Don't. Don't talk; Just breathe. You need the air."

Ricky shook his head, gulping. His throat hurt bad, and Dr. Fields knew why. Everyone knew now. "Cant…do this…."

"No. Don't you let go now. You've come too far to give up now. Don't you want your girl and your son," Dr. Fields tried to con him.

Ricky knew he was right. "Just….fix this,. Please," he spoke softly as they moved him onto the bed a nurse had brought to the door. Another doctor covered him with a blanket while two were trying to slow all the bleeding.

"Lets get him in for X-Rays and then into surgery, if needed…."

--------

But I'm,

So far,

So far from home,

So Far,

So far from home

--------

Ricky opened his eyes slowly, looking around the room. Amy was wrapped in blankets, watching him cautiously, as if she expected him to pounce, or lock up again. It took a moment for him to realize her mother was there too, helping to feed the baby. He exchanged a glance momentarily with Anne, and he knew in that small moment that she had told Amy what happened to him; how he'd screamed for help, and for Bob to stop. He was just stupid.

"Are you okay," Amy asked softly as she looked up at him. She as well, saw him clearly and in true light for what seemed to be the first time.

"No." Ricky spoke softly. It was rude maybe, but it was true. He was just numb to everything but pain. "Are you?"

Amy shrugged, feeding the baby again.

Ricky moved, pushing himself into a sitting position over the side of the bed. He was intent on seeing his son.

Anne quickly rushed to his side, grabbing a wheel chair from between the beds and placing it in front of Ricky's bed. She reached under his arms gently, helping him to stand on one leg as he hopped down and sat down in the wheel chair. "Are you crazy!? You have a broken wrist and a broken leg!" She settled the IV pole that held both the nutrient bag as well as two bags of blood, both running down into one of his two IV's. Finally, Anne pushed Ricky the several feet over to Amy's bed before moving out of the room, leaving the two to talk.

Amy gulped as Ricky slowly took the baby from her arms, holding the bottle in his mouth still. Amy took the moments to assess his wounds. Most of his arms were wrapped in gauze from stitches; Bob had somehow broken a mirror in the midst of his attack. Ricky's shoulder was taped up pretty thickly too, from a hairline fracture, the doctor had said.

"Wow," Ricky winced as he spoke, remembering what Bob made him do before. His chest and throat burned. "Hi. I'm you're dad."

Amy looked briefly to the door, and then back at Ricky, smiling. Seeing him now, she knew he would never do what has father had done to him. He was an amazing person who needed love and who needed a reason to live. "I'm sorry Ricky," she whispered.

He shrugged, looking at her for a nanosecond. "Its okay. Doesn't matter anymore. Only things that matter to me are you and him," he spoke softly.

Amy sighed, taking the bottle from Ricky as he handed it to her, lifting John to his shoulder and gently burping him.

"Can I ask you something?"

Ricky nodded slowly, trying to find a way to get comfortable. "Sure. What?"

"How do you do it? I mean, he almost killed you today." She stared at him in a sense of awe, honestly confused. "I just don't understand why you don't give up."

Tears brimmed Ricky's eyes as he looked at her. "I didn't care. Laying on the floor, I didn't care if I lived or died. But when they pushed me past the room, I heard him crying, and I needed to see him. Even though you love Ben and you want to marry him, I love you Amy. I love you and John, and I want to be with you." He paused, taking a drink of his water. His voice was raspy and fading.

"I love you, Amy. And that night at band camp, I was a different person. I didn't even love myself. I just wanted to feel loved. But that night was real for me, because, for the first time, I wasn't the only person scared."

He paused again, gauging her surprised reaction. "Yeah, I'm scared EVERY time I'm with a girl. EVERY. TIME, I'm with someone, I'm convinced it'll be the last time I'll do it. I'm-…I WAS, looking for self confidence and love. I had both, but I didn't see them. I'm still not sure I do. But I'm trying."

Amy nodded, watching as Ricky shushed the baby to sleep, She noticed a healing cut on his shoulder and gulped. "The truth is…Ben and I have been thinking about breaking it off. He knew we were into each other, and he's not sure he can handle this any longer."

Ricky didn't take his eyes off of his son as Amy spoke. He was still in awe over his son's features. The baby looked so much like the both of them, in the most perfect ways.

Amy sighed softly, watching Ricky and John for a few minutes until her eyes fell on several slashes across his shoulder. They didn't fit….Something was off. They were scabbed over and healing, in straight lines, unlike Bob's deep cuts he formed in his sons skin, they weren't curved. They were straight, and at least a quarter of an inch deep.

It struck her a moment later; he'd caused those cuts himself. He'd cut himself on purpose.

"Y-you…" Tears began to run down Amy's cheeks as she touched the scabs on Ricky's shoulder. He winced from the burning they still caused him, looking up at her. The look in her eyes told him she knew, and he couldn't hide it. Tears began to fall from his own eyes, and he laid John back on the bed with Amy, moving himself back.

Amy dove forward, however, pulling him back with Ryder on one arm. "No! Don't leave, please!" She wiped her tears away, settling back on the bed. "I just…I always thought you used sex to get past all of that."

Ricky shrugged. "Sometimes sex isn't an option."

Amy nodded, watching as Ricky wheeled himself around the bedside, over to where the incubator was set up. Amy handed John to him, and then Ricky laid John into the incubator, putting one of his fingers in his son's right hand, feeling him squeeze it.

"I want to be better, Amy. I want to stop everything and be better about it all. I swear," he spoke softly, looking up at her. She nodded, reaching up and wiping away a tear on his cheek. His skin was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and it was a pasty colour, due to loss of blood.

"You're burning up bad, Ricky," she spoke softly.

Before Amy could reach for the call button, her mother walked into the room and noticed Ricky's complexion as well. She walked over to him and moved the wheelchair back over to his bed before Ricky forced his body up into the hospital bed, curling into the blankets as shivered wracked through him.

"Mom, he-" Anne cut Amy off before she could flood into a freak out.

"His fever is because of his blood loss, Amy. He can't regulate his temperature yet." Anne explained softly.

Amy whimpered, shaking her head. She stood, moving the incubator into the middle ground between her and Ricky's beds. Her mother helped her before giving a her a quick hug, heading out for the night.

Once Anne was gone, Amy walked to the door, closing it 90 percent of the way and then turning the lights off. She then walked back over to Ricky, lying down next to him and wrapping her arms around him, hoping she could make him feel a little better. She could feel the soft whimpers coming from his chest as he remembered the days events, as well as the too many times it had happened before.

"Shhh, its okay. It's all gonna be okay," Amy tried to plead with him. After a while, she found herself humming a lullaby, and within no time, they were both asleep…

----

Don't lie and

Say that its okay

Its alright if

There's nothing more to say

----

Ricky awoke early the next morning to an empty bed. As he looked around, Amy was zipping up a bag, and fully dressed, obviously ready to get out of the hospital and get going home. John was still asleep in the incubator. They'd discussed his name shortly after he'd been born. Ricky's father had had a brother named John, who died when Ricky was six. When he'd been alive, he'd tried to get custody of Ricky. It never worked out.

Amy had decided on his middle name, James, because she'd simply always loved the name, she had told him. He was always open to what she wanted, or at least lately he had been. Coming to the conclusion that he loved her was far from easy. He'd questioned whether it was just the baby that he loved and he loved her for him, but even now, now that John was real, he didn't want to ever go back and change their time together. He was truly in love with Amy Juergens.

Ricky's brain focused once again in the present as he heard voices getting louder and louder outside the room.

"You're staying with this guy because of an 'oops?!' Because of a stupid late-night mistake!?"

Ricky as pretty sure the voice he heard was Ben's. His tone didn't surprise Ricky, however hearing his son called an 'oops' did. It also infuriated him.

Ricky pushed himself up from the bed, grabbing the IV pole and using it as a crutch as he hopped out to the hall, trying to use his other hand to keep his gown close through the back. "You wanna rip me apart, choose another day than this. And call me whatever you want, but don't you EVER call my son an 'oops' or a mistake!" He seethed, staring Ben down. Ben took several steps back, looking back and forth between Amy and Ricky for a minute before he finally walked away.

Ricky let out a sigh as he turned himself as best he could, using the wall as well as the IV pole to try and maneuver himself back into the room. Amy wrapped an arm under him, helping him to walk as soon as he was inside the room, and together they made it over to the bed. She sat down on the side of it as he got situated, pulling the blankets up in the right places so that he was comfortable.

"I'm sorry about that," Amy spoke softly. She didn't mean for argument to break out.

"Is not your fault," Ricky spoke softly. He looked back up at her after a moment, trying to keep himself composed. "So why're you going home?"

Amy groaned softly, taking left hand in both of her own. "My dad showed up this morning and flipped when he saw me sleeping next to you. He called my mom and she started yelling to, and now its an all-out war. I'll fix it though. I'll make them understand, and then I'll be back; I promise. You should have some time with John after you get some more rest. I heard the doctors saying you still need another two pints of blood to level your body out."

Ricky nodded wearily, knowing he needed that as well as something to satisfy his body. He felt weak physically, having not touched a bite of food in the three days he'd spent at the hospital.

Amy stood, squeezing his hand once more as her mother appeared at the door. "I promise, we'll be back. Get some rest."

Ricky nodded, closing his eyes sheepishly and pushing the button on the bed key pad to lower the head of the bed down. Someone turned the lights down a moment later, and mere minutes after that, he was out…

Ricky awoke to warm hands enveloping his again, and a small smile covered is face as he opened his eyes. "Amy…"

Adrian raised an eyebrow at him, surprised. "Um, no. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

Ricky gulped, looking at her. "Sorry I-"

Adrian shook her head, moving a strand of hair out of her face. "Its fine." She crossed her arms uncomfortably, gulping. "Its like she chose you. Like…like you had nothing to do with it to begin with."

Ricky shook his head, sitting up. "I don't know why. I'm a damage case already happening."

"No you're not," Adrian dragged out, sitting down in the chair next to him. "You've been through a lot, yes, But that doesn't mean you're a damage case."

Ricky glared at her, shaking his head. "Don't tell me that. Don't tell me that when you have no idea what's going on with me."

Adrian groaned, twisting a strand of her hair. "That's because you don't talk to anyone, Ricky. I mean,…why all the girls, Ricky? Why?"

Ricky fussed with the tape over his IV line, not wanting to talk about it. "You wouldn't understand. Its personal, and too hard to talk about."

Adrian groaned, shaking her head at him. "It wont work forever, Ricky. Girls will get sick of you using them just for sex."

"Just leave, Adrian. I don't need to hear this right now." Ricky ordered.

"No, you need to hear this, Ricky. It's the facts and you need to know them," Adrian pressed.

A doctor knocked on the door of the room, stepping in a moment later. "Ricky needs to be resting right now, whether you think he needs to or not. His injuries alone are too traumatic for you to be arguing with him right now. So please, let it go, or leave."

Adrian nodded and looked down at Ricky, running a finger against one of the cuts on his shoulder. He obviously was dealing with more than even she knew.

----

Laying alone with the history

That made you

Cold and uncertain inside

----

Ricky knocked lightly on the Juergen's home, holding his shoulder as he did. The doctors had detected that the knife hadn't cut through any bone or muscle, thankfully, just tendons and tissue, so they'd simply covered both sides of his shoulder with gauze and taped it up nice and tight.

The door opened quickly, and he screamed as Ashley yanked him inside, hitting the floor on his shoulder. "God damnit!!!!"

Amy and George ran into the room at the sound of Ricky hitting the floor. Amy leaned down to help him, glaring up at Ashley. "You didn't need to throw him on the floor."

Ashley stared at Amy dumbly, letting out a sarcastic laugh. "Yes, better to leave him sitting on the doorstep more than two seconds so the psychopath has time to get out of his car. You HAVE seen When A Stranger Calls, right?"

Ricky sat up slowly, looking at Ashley with slight annoyance. "I can fight him off for more than two seconds. However, when I get beaten up like yesterday, I tend to bleed enough to DIE," he pressed at her.

"That's enough," George ordered the three of them, walking over to Ricky, he extended both hands to Ricky's good arm. "Pull your weight from your waist and legs."

Ricky did as he was told and made it to his feet with no problem. Amy yawned sheepishly, running her fingers through her hair. "John is sleeping, so I'm gonna go lay down."

Ricky nodded, letting Anne take his bag from him that the doctor had sent home with him. It was loaded with packets of information, pain meds, steroids, and antibiotics to fight infection. "Your parents are okay with you staying here," Anne asked softly.

Ricky shrugged. "I told them I won't be coming back. Its not safe when he's around and the kids there have already suffered enough. They don't need me adding to it, especially not like this."

Anne looked at George and nodded. "I spoke with your mother this morning, and while she'd rather you were there, she understands and the court seems to agree with you."

"And whether you'd agree or not, its probably best for you to be here. You need to be resting and taking time to lick your wounds," George added. "No school, no work, limited work with John until your shoulder is healed."

Ricky rolled his eyes, not used to the hovering parent act. "Sorry, I just….I'm not used to this."

"What, love?" George scoffed. Anne slapped his shoulder, glaring at him. "You need to have your bandages changed before you go to bed, so come into the kitchen and I'll get them changed for you."

Ricky looked at both George and Anne warily, gulping. "I don't…I don't know."

Anne nodded, walking up to him. "You're okay. You're safe here."

Amy walked out of the kitchen, looking at Ricky. His eyes begged her to help him get out of the house, away from people, away from everything. "Ricky, it's okay. No one here will hurt you."

He backed away from everyone until he was up against the door, and slid down against it, "No, I can't. No, no, no, no." Ricky hid his face between his knees, shaking with fear as he sat there.

Amy looked to her parents, who looked at each other and then back to Ricky. Anne walked over to Ricky, kneeling near him. She reached out to touch his shoulder and he scooted over, shaking his head. "D-don't. Just please don't. No more touching, no more touching."

Amy's chin began to tremble as she watched him, seeing him fall apart in front of her. "R-Ricky. Please."

"I can't. Burns, it burns, it burns." He kept his face buried, not moving.

"We can sit here with you all night, if that's what you need." Anne offered.

Ricky shook his head, not saying a word more. Silent sobs were the only sounds he emitted following that.

Amy moved from the stairs, next to Ricky. She gently reached out to take his hand, but he shifted away from even her, as if he could lock a bubble around him.

Amy eventually drifted to sleep still sitting on the floor by Ricky, but he still sat there, tearfully curled into a ball. Occasionally his sobs picked up or slowed down, but he made no move to let anyone help him. Surprisingly, it was Anne and George together, who slowly brought him from his shell. George had carried Amy up to her bed, much like he had years earlier when she was just a little girl; and then he returned downstairs, kneeling down next to Ricky.

It took everything in him gently reach out to Ricky and not grip his shoulder, but simply touch him. Unlike how he had reacted continuously in the last few hours, he didn't recoil away. Ricky slowly lifted his head away from his arms, looking up at the man he only knew as Amy's father.

"Good lord. How could this have happened," he spoke rashly. Ricky shook with fear, looking down at his wrapped hands, soaked from his tears. Anne reached up and gently wiped something from Ricky's face. George looked at what it was, then back at Ricky. "You need to calm down. You're bleeding tears now."

"You're pathetic, you know that. You'll just do anything to get away from me, won't you," Angela screamed at her son. She lashed the yardstick across Ricky's face, leaving a cut next to his eye, nearly cutting the lid open. "Bleeding tears, REALLY!? What a fucking lie."

"Ricky? Ricky!?"

He shook, frightened as he came out of the flashback and looked at Amy's parents.

"Oh my God. She beat you too," Anne spoke softly. Her sorrow for her grandson's father suddenly began shifting to rage at his biological mother. She didn't understand how a mother could beat her only son. Those kind of people had always terrified her; she always worried about her girls having friends who were abused because she didn't want them to have to see that kind of pain. But now she pretty much had an abused child living in her home, and he was the father of her grandson. That mere fact horrified her even more.

Ricky gasped at a sharp pain in his side, curling over with his arms wrapped around him. Anne slowly stood, moving down the hall, and George moved slowly behind her, carrying a writhing and obviously surprised Ricky as he did. Once they were in the kitchen, George set Ricky on the counter, grimacing at the sight of blood on the boy's shirt. "Anne…"

She grabbed several things out of the messenger bag the hospital had sent home with Ricky and walked over to the island, setting them down. "Are you fond of this shirt, Ricky," she spoke quickly.

"I guess not-" Ricky barely finished the sentence before Anne began cutting the shirt up the side of the inseam on the arm. In less than a minute, she had it off of his washboard body.

"Residual bleeding is normal, George. He's got multiple stab wounds," Anne surmised.

"Sick son of a bitch. Who does this to their own child," George growled.

"I hate him," Ricky whimpered, trying to keep a slight distance between George and himself. George reached to pull Ricky's jeans down enough to change the gauze on his side. "Don't TOUCH ME!" Ricky screamed, pushing George back and pulling his already loose jeans tightly against his body. Anne glared at George, handing him Neosporin while she rounded the island and continued what George had tried to start.

It took everything inside of her to not feel sick right in that moment as she removed the gauze from Ricky's side and saw the jagged stitches, and the dozens of scars that coated his skin. Her hands shook as she re-bandaged his side and wiped away the blood on his skin. Afterwards, she walked over to the fridge and got out a bottle of water while George counted out the different meds they'd sent home with him.

"Two painkillers every twelve hours, and these will probably knock you out," he spoke forwardly. "Three antibiotics to fight off various infections…"

Anne shook her head, taking one of the painkillers away from George. "He's already at risk of seizures from losing so much blood. There's no need to add a med that comes with that as a side affect. Then there will be no way to tell."

"Just give me something? Please," Ricky begged, tears brimming his eyes again. He nursed his side, but the more obvious pain was his shattered leg.

Anne walked over to Ricky and handed him the pills along with a bottle of water; he gulped them down without a moments thought before moving off of the counter with the help of one of the chairs against it.

"How's the dexterity of your hands," Anne asked softly, following slowly behind him as he tried to climb the stairs with just one limb.

"Crap. I guess it's the price of having a knife through your shoulder on one side, and having the other pinned to the floor by a sawed off IV pole," Ricky admitted. His hands weren't even able to hold the steering wheel while he'd been driving, and he had had to force them against the wheel to keep it from driving without him.

"I honestly don't understand how you're moving with a broken leg and useless arms," Anne spoke, astonished.

Ricky laughed as he used his elbows to move himself up each step. "I learned ways to move around when I was two and had two broken collarbones."

Anne shook her head at him, not able to keep herself from smiling at his own childish but obviously drugged smirk. "George, come carry this kid to the guest room before he hurts himself falling asleep on the stairs."

George smirked as he stepped past Anne, planting a kiss on her forehead as he swiped Ricky up from the stairs and carried him up to the spare bedroom, simply laying him down instead of trying to help him change for fear of the kid biting him; literally. He left the door cracked open and stepped across the hall, turning the bathroom light on before walking away.

Meanwhile, Ricky wearily managed to kick his pants off half way off before he completely faded from consciousness…