Title: Keeper

Author: KateMonster

Rating: PG

Summary: A phone call that Sandy fears will change everything. For the OCSFC. I apologize for a plot that I think has been done before, but I'm trying to put a new spin on it. Enjoy.

Their life was becoming so normal, so everyday and commonplace, that Sandy wasn't surprised when the phone rang.

Taking Ryan in was supposed to shake things up, give him purpose. New meaning. And for a while, it had. For a while, it had seemed that the kid had more issues than a whole subscription to Psychology Today, and as much as Sandy and Kirsten had torn their hair out over the assorted fights and suspensions and meetings with the school, he'd known he was getting somewhere.

And now he was there.

It had been months since he'd gotten any ominous phone calls from the secretary at Harbor, or worse yet, the cops. In fact, these days he only entertained the slightest twinge of fear when the phone rang. More often than not, it was one of the girls calling for one of the boys - his guys only had each other for guy friends, but they only needed each other, really. Or it was Jimmy, calling with the latest anxiety-ridden fears about his future. Or Julie, in which case Sandy often tried to feign important business, or Caleb, whom he had been known to just hang up on if Kirsten wasn't around to see it. Once in awhile it was the dreaded telemarketer (he'd usually give to the non-profit ones, just to shut them up, since the Do-Not-Call list didn't apply to them and they were just as relentless as the other ones, if not more so). Sometimes Rosa, calling to confirm or change her schedule in broken English; sometimes coworkers from his office or Kirsten's with what they thought were extremely urgent questions.

He didn't cringe now when the phone rang.

"'Yello?" He tucked the phone on his shoulder as he reached for a beer in the fridge. He froze in mid-grasp, his fingers curling in mid-air. "Yes. It is. He does."

The cold air of the fridge wafted over him, the coming of winter after a summer that had been unnecessarily long, unjustly pleasant. Of course it couldn't stay that way. They were overdue for something like this.

"Uh huh." He closed the door, one purpose forgotten as another rekindled. "I don't know, I'll – okay. Right. Well. Keep us posted."

He cut off the phone and stared at it for a moment before thundering to the stairs, the phone still trailing from his hand.

"Seth!" he bellowed upstairs. "Hey! Seth!"

He heard a scuffling, the silencing of faraway music, the creaking of a door, and then the form of his offspring appeared at the top of the stairs. "Pops?"

He ignored Seth's typical irreverence. "Did Ryan go out?"

"Yeah, I think."

"Where to?"

Seth squinted. "He didn't say."

"Well, did he take your phone?" Sandy asked impatiently.

Seth shook his head. "He never takes my phone, Dad."

"Dammit," Sandy muttered, more to himself. "Why did we never get him his own?"

"Dad? Everything okay?"

"Is he with Marissa?"

"No, she and Summer are shopping," Seth replied, a little too quickly and bitterly. "Girl stuff."

"Then where is he?"

"Dad?" Seth asked, concerned, his brow furrowing as he stared down the steps at his father.

"Where does he go when he's not with you, or Marissa, or in the pool house or at school?"

Seth hesitated, confusion flashing across his face. "Dunno? To the beach? It's not like he shops..."

"Seth! Think!"

"I'm trying! Jeez, he doesn't leave me an itinerary, you know."

"Why not? Why doesn't he? He's still on probation!"

"Uh, your department, Dad. Do I look like the guy's guardian? Okay, I do, kinda, without the brows, but what is going on?"

Sandy turned away, disgusted. "I'm going to find him. Just no TV today, okay? Call me if he turns up."

"Dad?" Now Seth looked extremely confused.

"Stay put!"

Sandy reached for his keys. He knew he had to find Ryan before anyone else did. But one person in particular.

Seth's fingers twitched as he stared from the remote to the blank TV screen.

What kind of a declaration was that, no TV? It was like trying not to think of purple alcoholic zebras on skateboards. Once you started trying it suddenly became very hard.

Maybe it was on the internet, whatever he wasn't supposed to see. But no – that would violate the spirit, if not the letter of the law. No. Couldn't do it.

Maybe Summer would know what was going on. She and Marissa were at South Coast Plaza.

Seth rubbed the power button with his index finger. So tempting. He hated feeling like the good little ten year old boy again, but the way his father had said it... Seth somehow felt he'd agree.

He covered the remote with a pillow, holding it down with both hands, glaring at it. He removed his hands, carefully watching for any sign of disobedience from the innocent pillow.

"Seth? What the hell are you doing?"

He glanced up with relief to see Ryan frowning and shaking his head at him. "Dude. Did my dad find you?"

"No. What are you hiding under there... is that the TV remote?"

"No. Hand me the phone."

With a wary sigh, Ryan reached for the phone and passed it to him. "That is too the TV remote."

Seth ignored him as he dialed the familiar digits. "Don't touch that."

"Yeah?" Sandy's voice answered briskly.

"Hey, it's me. Ryan's home."

"Great!" Sandy's voice changed in tone at once. "Don't move. Don't let him leave."

"I'm not," Seth said, perplexed, before the line went dead.

"So what's on?" Ryan asked casually, sinking beside him on the couch.

"Nothing. Nope. It's why I'm hiding the remote. Absolutely nothing is happening."

"Well, let me see," Ryan said with a twinge of amusement. "Just cause you can't find Chappelle's Show or Lord of the Rings doesn't mean I won't-"

"Or," Seth cut him off, "we could PlayStation it and both be happy. You up for a little Ninja action?"

"Sure. Always," Ryan said, and Seth hopped up to arrange the console for a tournament with one fortunately oblivious housemate.

Sandy stopped by the fridge, listening to the cheerful voices rounding the corner from the den. Ryan and Seth. Like brothers. Like.

"It's not fair. You have, like, talent. You're a natural. Me, I've played this stuff all my life, while you-"

"Can kick your ass in a heartbeat." Ryan's voice was tinged with satisfaction. "Hey, you know, life is not fair, after all."

"In life as in Dynasty Warriors IV," Seth said somberly.

"You got that right."

"Guys!" He didn't want to listen to them anymore. Sandy whirled around into the den. "Hi."

"Dad," Seth greeted him with obvious relief.

"Seth, can I...?" Seth got it and quickly scooted out of the den, leaving the game menu still flickering on the screen. Ryan watched him go, and if we was concerned, he didn't let himself show it.

Sandy listened to his son's footsteps, which ended too quickly. Of course Seth was probably eavesdropping. That was fine. He'd find out sooner or later. As long as Sandy could talk to Ryan first, alone.

"What's up?" Ryan asked casually, settling his hands in his lap, a very unnatural position for him. So he was nervous.

"I got a phone call. There's been a break. Nine guys. Including your brother."

If the news that his brother had just taken another step towards lifetime social deliquency upset him, Ryan didn't show it. Instead, he just nodded slowly.

"Did they find any of them yet?"

"No." He paused, hesitated, not sure how to say it.

"It's stupid," Ryan said, his voice sounding calm and matter-of-fact. "He had one year left." He shook his head. "Trey. He doesn't think."

"Ryan-" Sandy stopped. "If he-"

"Oh. Oh!" Ryan said, getting it. "You want me to tell you if he shows up here or contacts me." He hopped up. "Well. He won't."

Sandy just stared at him. "He won't?"

"No. Ah." Ryan shook his head. "He won't."

"I -I still think you should keep your eyes and ears open," Sandy stammered out, uncertain.

But Ryan only smiled, a half-grin, ironic. "Oh, no. Here? Is the last place Trey will come."

"Do you have any idea where he'd go, then?"

"Unless he tries to find my mom? He'll stick it out," Ryan said. "He'll probably still be with the other guys from the break. He doesn't do alone very well."

"Well," Sandy said, moving sideways to block Ryan's slow inching out of the room. "The police will still want to talk to you. Keep an eye."

"Sure," Ryan said, that wide-eyed expression that Sandy always knew meant he was truly sincere. "I mean, I'll tell 'em what I know. Definitely."

Sandy nodded, absorbing this. "Ryan, if you lie to the cops, it could mean serious consequences."

Ryan squinted. "I know. I'll tell the truth."

"Even if it means your own brother locked up with a longer sentence?" Sandy challenged.

A strange expression crossed Ryan's face, his shoulders tensing. "Look," he said, suddenly fierce. "It's not my fault he went and did something dumb. Again. And anyway, I wouldn't know the first thing about where he'd go, okay? I'm probably the last person he'd come to right now. So call the cops, tell 'em I'll talk. I'll take a lie detector test, whatever they want. I. Don't Care." He looked down, suddenly ashamed now. "I mean, it's a waste of their time."

"A lie detector test is probably a little excessive..." Sandy watched him for a moment. "But they will want to talk."

"I just said I would," Ryan insisted.

Sandy started to turn away, then returned. "What happened?" he asked impulsively. "When I first met you, first thing out of your mouth was you worrying about him. And first time he's out, you're sure he won't try to contact you?"

Ryan shrugged, looking miserable and old. "Things are different now."

"What changed?" Sandy pressed.

Ryan shook his head, avoiding eye contact. "I got homework."

"I think the cops are gonna be by later on."

"Great," Ryan said in a neutral tone.

"Don't go anywhere."

"Won't," Ryan called over his shoulder as he slipped through the kitchen towards the pool house.

Sandy watched him go, not sure what had just happened. And he wasn't sure what part of that disturbed him the most.

"And then it turns out it's been behind the Rita Hayworth poster all along."

Ryan squinted over the sports section at Seth, as though he was trying to decode a foreign language, and went back to munching on his Cap'n Crunch.

"He was digging with like, spoons, and rocks. And then when they'd go out for exercise he'd drop the dirt a little bit at a time. Through his pants leg." Seth tugged at his own pants.

Ryan considered this, still crunching on his cereal. "You know, I don't think Trey had any posters. Of anything."

"You don't know that! Hey, what did the police want, anyway?"

"I don't know. Decent living wages? They barely asked me anything, and I told 'em they could look for him here all they want, he won't be here." Ryan didn't take his eyes off the newspaper.

Seth nodded, absorbing this. "So I think we should rent Shawshank this weekend."

Ryan adjusted his shoulders, trying to discreetly rid himself of the tension there. "We're not renting Shawshank."

"Wow," Seth said, leaning on the counter, taking in Ryan's harsh reaction. "Okay. Noted. Maybe The Count of Monte Cristo?"

There were times when Ryan found Seth endearing. And then there were times like now.

"How about Dumb and Dumber?" he snapped. "Cause if you're looking for the story of Trey's life, that's pretty much more like it."

Seth gave a low whistle. "Wow. Dude. Sorry. Didn't realize it was a sore subject."

Ryan sighed. "Seth..." How did Seth not realize it was a sore subject, especially after all this time? "Let's just take the boat out or something. It's a hell of a lot more interesting than talking about stupid people breaking out of stupid prisons."

Seth pulled the sports section down, practically forcing Ryan to look at him. "Or talking about your brother?"

"Yes. It's more interesting than talking about my brother."

Seth pulled the sports section back up, arranging it so Ryan could read it. "Okay."

He settled into his own stool beside Ryan, and reached for the cream cheese and a bagel as Ryan tried to rearrange his paper, fruitlessly.

There was a long silence in the kitchen.

Ryan put the sports section down and turned back to him.

"What?"

"What? Nothing."

"Seth, c'mon."

"Dude. I didn't say anything."

"Seth."

Seth shook his head, not looking at Ryan. "It's just – he's your brother. You know? And maybe I don't know what it's like to have a brother, but I just don't get how you can just not care that he's running around free and helpless somewhere."

"Can you just stop? Please."

"Okay, but..." Seth licked his lips. "I just... I guess I thought having a brother would be different or something."

Ryan heaved a sigh as he stood to take his cereal bowl to the sink and pre-rinse it. "Not having a brother like Trey."

"Oh," Seth said, clearly not comprehending.

"Right," Ryan said, realizing that he didn't comprehend.

"So."

Ryan just shook his head at him. "So are we taking the boat out today or what?"

"Sure, man," Seth said, his voice much quieter and gentler than usual. Ryan frowned, studying him.

"You know you don't have to treat me like a five year old. I'm okay."

"Okay."

"I don't care. He'll do whatever he's gonna do, and me, I'll just be... I'll be here is all."

"Right."

"Stop looking at me like that." Ryan turned the water off and shook the bowl into the sink.

"I'm not looking at you."

Ryan opened the dishwasher to put the bowl inside. The dishwasher looked full. He checked the soap drawer and reached under the counter for detergent. He shook the detergent into the drawer, closed it, and shut the dishwasher door before locking it into place to set the cycle.

"So are we boating? Or what?"

Seth hopped to join him. "Definitely. Let's go get the boat."

Maybe it was too early for winter. Maybe the cold snap had been his imagination. Or maybe, just maybe, the heat wave was disguising the fact that it had been winter all along.

Sandy really wasn't sure.

"Dad! Keys?"

"What for?" Sandy asked automatically, looking up from the file he was reading.

"Gonna go get the boat. It's still over at the docks, we gotta drive."

"We? You and Ryan?" he asked, patient.

"Yeah."

Part of him didn't want to let them out of the house, didn't want to run the risk. But what could he do? There was only so much he could do. Only so much protecting the boys could stand.

"Take your cell."

"Yeah, Dad."

"Don't split up."

"Fine. Okay."

Sandy took a deep breath. "Be careful."

Seth got it. He was quiet for a moment. "Right."

Sandy dug in his pocket for the keys to the Range Rover and handed them over to Seth, who snatched them away and stared at them.

"Everything okay?" Sandy prompted.

"Yeah, just-" Seth stopped. "Never mind." He started to turn.

"No, go on."

Seth turned back, desperate. "It's just – if this is how Ryan treats his real brother? How's he gonna treat me?" His voice was unusually weak. The way he used to sound when it was changing. Cracking.

Sandy's shoulders slumped. "Oh, Seth."

"That's not what brothers should act like. Be like. What about loyalty? Devotion?"

"Seth-"

"What am I doing all this for, anyway?"

Sandy squinted at him. "Sure you still want the keys?"

Seth pressed his lips together, resolute. "Yeah."

"'Kay. Have fun."

"Right," Seth said, turning to finally go.

"Hey! Kid."

"What?" Seth turned back.

"I meant that. Have a good time."

Seth gave a light smile, jiggling the keys in his hand. "'Kay."

The phone call came as they were pulling away from the dock. Seth listened for a moment before passing the phone to Ryan.

"Hello?"

"They found him."

Seth watched for Ryan's reaction. He could hear his father's voice from the other side of the line, all neutral and impassive. Just like Ryan, who didn't relax, or crumble, or stiffen or anything Seth would have expected.

"Where?"

"Near LA. He was alone." Sandy waited, as if for a reaction. When there was none, he pressed on. "It's an additional charge, you know."

"I know," Ryan said.

"He asked for you."

The only change was that Ryan's glance quickly shot to Seth, then flickered away.

"For what?" He actually looked mildly surprised. But only mildly.

"He gets a call. I said I'd check with you. I didn't give them the cell, you want me to?"

Ryan glanced out towards the beach. "Can he call later?"

"Whatever you want," Sandy said, his voice even.

"Later, then?"

"Of course."

"Okay. Thanks..." Ryan looked like he didn't know what else to say.

"Have fun on the boat."

"Right." Ryan clicked the phone closed and stared at it in his hand.

"So..." Now it was Seth who didn't know what to say.

Ryan shook his head. "Moron." Seth knew it wasn't directed at him.

"I'm sorry," Seth said.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Ryan said.

Seth stared at him. "So somebody does, then?" He squinted. The sun was behind Ryan. "Would that be Trey? Or you?"

Ryan just shook his head. "Can we land at the beach by the house?"

"Sure." Seth squinted down at his compass. "It's about twenty minutes from here."

Ryan nodded and relaxed into his seat. "Sounds perfect."

Sandy knocked on the door cautiously. He never wanted to wonder what Ryan did when the blinds were down, but he did anyway. Which was ridiculous, because a teenage boy like Ryan needed privacy. But still.

"Come in!" Ryan called, almost immediately.

He poked his head in. Ryan was lying on the floor, knees tucked up, arms splayed out to his sides. He'd been working out.

"How's everything?" Sandy asked, his voice a little higher than normal. "You talk to Trey yet?"

"Uh, yeah." Ryan struggled to sit up. "Yeah, he's all right."

"Good," he said. "Well. Good."

"Did you... want something?"

Sandy shook his head. "Just checking."

"Oh."

"I'm worried. About you."

Ryan raised his eyebrows and scooted over on the carpet to lean against the bed. "You are."

"I mean, it's like you barely noticed – Ryan-" He searched for the words.

"I'm over Trey," Ryan said simply. "That's all."

"What changed?" Sandy pressed. "I mean, the last time you saw him was that Thanksgiving..."

"...And that was it." Ryan blinked. "I'm done." He paused. "He asked me to be a character witness. You know. For when he has his new sentencing." He looked away. "I said no."

"Oh."

"That's it." He shrugged. "And now he's gonna be there. For years."

"And that doesn't bother you...?"

Ryan winced only slightly. "I'd rather not see him. So I don't care."

Sandy leaned back against the door, studying the boy. "Ryan. If you want to talk-"

"I know. You're ready." He offered a slight smile. "I'll survive."

"You sure?"

"Oh, yeah. I got this far without him."

In retrospect, Sandy didn't find the joke all that funny.

Seth found out three days later.

He spotted the cup in the brush off the path leading from their house to the beach. The triceratops cup from his childhood, the one that had been stored in the poolhouse storage closet years ago. Half-buried freshly in the leaves, three Marlboros stubbed out in it.

Ryan told him once how everybody he knew smoked Marlboros, and had quickly told Seth how disgusting they were, and to never, ever touch them, because he never was again.

And here were three Marlboros, stubbed out as if they'd been smoked as far as possible.

There was just enough room in the brush for two people to sit comfortably, the cup between them, one person smoking cigarette after cigarette as they talked, argued, fought, cried, yelled, whatever. Hidden away from the rest of the Newport world.

It was then that Seth understood everything. All the things Ryan couldn't say to him, or to his parents. Or maybe even to himself. And all the things he did say, and what he really meant.

Seth always wanted to pretend that he understood Ryan. Now? He knew that he did.

He dumped the cigarettes into the dirt, scattering them, and on second thought, used the mug to dig into the loose dirt, creating a hole big enough to set it in to. It was an artifact now. A memorial. He knocked the loose dirt back on top, covering it, secreting the cup away.

He studied his work, satisfied, and set off for the house.

He had to find Ryan and see what they were doing together today.