Thanks for the reviews, guys!

This one starts from Ryan's perspective.


They finally reached what Ryan assumed to be the final door. The guard held it open for him as Ryan tried to hide his limp. He diverted his eyes downward and waited to hear his father's voice. It isn't until he has to gasp for air that he realizes that he was holding his breath. And that it his father should have said something before he ran out of air.

Instead of hearing his father's voice, he heard someone else call his name. He glanced up, not recognizing the voice. The guard who brought him to the room – the waiting room apparently – was talking to the woman behind the desk. There was another man in the room, but his father was nowhere to be seen. Ryan looks back at the floor trying to figure out what was going on when his name was called again.


When Ryan looks up, Sandy gets a full view of his face. His eye is bruised and slightly swollen. He has cuts on his chin, cheek, and forehead. The one on his chin is still bleeding. "What happened to him? Is he okay?"

"Got into a fight," said the guard, still gripping onto Ryan's arm. So he was violent.

He looked pretty banged up for someone his size that was "violent." If he was violent, wouldn't he not be getting hit so much? Sandy wanted to ask more questions. But he didn't know what to say to anyone. He can't very well back out now and ask the guard to just take him back inside. For the first time in a long time, Sandy was speechless.

He watched as Ryan almost fell over when the guard let go of his arm with (what looked like to Sandy to be) a little shove. Ryan was handed a clear plastic bag with some things in it.

"What's going on?" The voice sounded angry, but quiet and shaky. He was still staring at the ground almost as intently as Sandy was staring at him.

"You're father's taking you home." The receptionist sounded bored as she gathered papers together. Ryan took a good (decent) look around the room, still keeping his eyes low.

"That's not my dad."

"I'm Sandy Cohen. Your biological father." How had he been handling the news of his new father? He had obviously been raised by another man. How long had that guy been around? His whole life? Had his mother ever told him about Sandy? Ryan finally looked at Sandy fully, in the eyes. He had Sandy's eyes. Confused eyes. "The DNA test. It came back positive."

He didn't really know what else to say. If Seth had ever looked this confused, Sandy would have been able to fix it. Or Seth would talk it out himself and know how to fix it himself before leaving Sandy.

"Sir. Sign here please." Before Sandy made his way to the counter, Ryan lowered his eyes again. He could see Ryan's brain silently trying to work out what was just said from the slight profile he was shown of his bowed head. Had he already forgotten about the DNA test? They did give him the test, didn't they? Did they have the wrong kid?

No. His last name matched the one the one the social worker had given him. And he had Sandy's eyes. And his jawline. And Seth's nose. It obviously wasn't the DNA test that had made the mistake. He turned accusingly to the woman behind the desk.

"Did no one tell him what was going on?"

"That's none of my concern, sir. Please sign here."

"I'm your father. Biologically. The DNA test they had you do was for that. Did no one explain that to you?"


Ryan slowly shook his head once and then stopped because it hurt. He stopped himself from flinching purely out of shock.

Who was this man? This wasn't his father. Was his father really not his father? How did he just let the DNA test slip his mind without asking anybody what it was about? He had figured it had something to do with stealing the car. DNA evidence or something.

He heard the woman talk again but didn't hear what she said. She sounded annoyed though. He saw the man move out of the corner of his eye. Ryan stepped back and steadied himself. He had taken a swift kick to the knee in his latest attack.


Sandy watched his new son stumble backwards as he moved past him to sign the damned form.

"They did give you a DNA test, didn't they? A couple weeks ago? A blood test? Or some kind of swab…?" Sandy asked, just to be sure. A quiet "yeah" came from Ryan and an angry "Sir" came from the receptionist.

He signed angrily before the woman did something horrible like call the guard to come take Ryan away.

"Can I get the number of someone who does know what the fuck is going on then?" She grabbed a business card and held it out without even looking up. She had what she wanted out of him. Her business wasn't with them anymore, but with her magazine. "I'm sorry no one filled you in, but I'm going to take you home. You can't stay here. We'll try to figure everything out in the morning, okay?"

The teenager flinched so violently when Sandy put his hand on his back that he thought he was going to fall down. He pulled his hands back up in a sign of harmlessness as he regained his balance, a gesture he wasn't sure if Ryan even noticed.


Ryan glanced back at the woman behind the desk almost pleading for help. He didn't want to go off with a stranger claiming to be his long lost father. He had a long lost father. He shuddered at the idea of his own father being there. He would have probably already dragged Ryan out of the room into the hall and smacked him a few times. Was a stranger better than his own father? He glanced up at the man again who had taken a step back and was just staring at him.