Rated: T

Disclaimer: I don't own the O.C. characters or actors. This is a work of fiction and not meant to infringe on any copyrights.

Summary: It's September in Berkeley, California. Ryan encounters someone from his past that will turn his freshman year upside down.
Unbetaed: (Because I don't have one.)

"Did you tell him?"

Kirsten was waiting for her husband when he came in the front door, stepping around the group of kids clustered on their doorstep. Sandy reached into the bowl on the stairs and dropped a treat into each child's bag, sending them on their way before turning to look at his wife.

"I wanted to, but seeing his face when he talked about his classes and his friends… I couldn't do it."

"Sandy!"

"He made no mention of Oliver, and I didn't bring it up. Pete said the kid seems to have reformed, and it's a big campus. He and Ryan might not even run into one another. He was a minor at the time, so technically his juvenile record is sealed. He's even changed his name, and his parents are very influential… I'm guessing some money changed hands, but any evidence of a troubled past has disappeared."

"Do you really think they can both be at Berkeley for four years and never see each other? I don't trust that kid! Last time, when we didn't believe Ryan… look what happened."

"At this point, telling him will only upset him. He's doing so well, Kirsten. He's finally getting on with his life. I'm going to keep a close eye on him, but unless something changes, I won't interfere."

There was a finality in his voice that stopped her from arguing. She knew her husband was making a mistake, but she also knew that Pete had stuck his neck out to give them this sensitive information- information that according to police records, no longer existed.

With no solid evidence of wrongdoing- of even an encounter with Ryan, she knew there was nothing they could do.

"I hope you're right."

I reluctantly entered Bowles Hall, the familiar feeling of foreboding had returned with a vengeance.

The halls were already packed with people swilling from beer bottles as they moved in time with the pounding bass that shook the walls. I pushed past a skinny guy being ravaged by Wonder Woman, and found myself missing Seth more than ever.

I had finally reached my room when the door flew open and a hand pulled me inside.

"You're late. I thought you weren't going to show. I was just about to make a phone call," Oliver said, showing me the number he had been about to dial; it was prefaced by the country code I had to enter when I called Taylor.

My palms were sweating and I began to wish I hadn't eaten so much at the Cohens'.

I stood with Alana and Adam in a quieter corner of the floor's common area. Ever the sportsman, Mike was involved in a spirited game of beer pong in the next room.

My friends were in the mellow, happy stage of drinking halfway between sobriety and inebriation. I wished I was there too. I had been nursing a single beer all night, unable to fend off all the drink offers with an empty hand; some people become very charitable after a few rounds.

I needed my wits about me tonight.

Oliver was drinking and doing god knew what else, and I needed to act quickly. I excused myself to go to the bathroom, weaving through the tangled mass of bodies that filled the hall. I searched through six rooms before I found him- on a beanbag chair making out with a girl from my computer science class.

My hands formed themselves into fists at my sides, but I kept my cool. I couldn't afford to do something stupid. If Oliver's henchmen didn't hear from him again, they might be under orders to hurt Taylor or the Cohens in retaliation.

Oliver was groaning in a sickening way that wasn't helping the Thai food to settle; his eyes were closed in a chemically induced ecstasy he didn't deserve. I quickly slipped my hand into his pocket, deftly removing the cell phone, and disappearing before he knew I was there.

I was headed for the bathroom when someone grabbed my arm. I jumped a bit, but relaxed when I saw it was only Alana half supporting a barely conscious Mike.

"Ryan, can you take him with you? He's really heavy and someone just set up their PlayStation, so Adam's out of service. I think he uh… should probably be in the bathroom anyway."

Mike's face had a greenish tinge, and I knew Alana was probably right. I nodded and dragged him with me into the men's room.

I pushed him into a stall, and went to stand at the end of a row of sinks while I fished the offending cell phone from my pocket. I scrolled the list of contacts, relieved there were only six.

Not surprisingly Oliver didn't seem to have a lot of friends.

The first contact said 'parents'.

Not 'mom and dad', not 'home', just the formal 'parents'; maybe it was only in there so the hospital had someone to notify. I called it anyway, but hung up when I reached the voicemail of Claire and Harvey Trask.

I called 'Jean-Francois Dubois' at the French number I'd seen earlier. My heart started pumping faster, and I knew I was setting into motion a series of events that I couldn't undo.

A man picked up on the first ring, as if he'd been waiting for my call.

"Good evening Mr. Taft."

"Hello Mr. Dubois," I answered, trying unsuccessfully to mimic Oliver's whiny, irritating voice.

"Who is this?" The man demanded immediately.

"You tell me your connection with Oliver, and maybe I'll tell you."

"Oliver?"

"Owen, to you."

"He's a client of mine."

"Oh, so you do his taxes? Cut his lawn? Or maybe you just make people he doesn't like disappear."

The line went dead, and all I could hear was the sound of retching from the stalls.

The next number 'Leah' probably wasn't a hired assassin, but I had to cover all the bases.

Leah answered on the fifth ring.

"I've told you to stop calling me, Owen. Whatever you think we had… it's over. I'm changing my number."

Apparently Oliver wasn't monogamous in his obsessions.

She hung up and I did the same.

I mentally crossed Leah off my list and went on to the next number.

The next morning Oliver was still asleep when I left the dorm.

I hadn't stayed very long at the party the night before. After helping Mike stagger back to his room, I'd slipped the phone back in Oliver's pocket and gone back to my own room, haunted by what my calls had confirmed. Oliver's threats against Taylor and the Cohens were real, and I didn't know what to do next.

The noise from the floor above had made it impossible to sleep and I'd ended up on my laptop reading email.

I had received a message from Luke Ward. He wanted to know what I was up to and why he hadn't heard from me in a while.

Luke.

He'd been my ally in the past, back when no one else had believed me, not even Seth.

Just after ten, my phone started vibrating. The lecture had just ended, and I was following Adam out the side door when I answered it.

It was Kirsten.

I was slightly disappointed at first- I'd been hoping for a swifter response from Luke, but my disappointment quickly turned to worry. It was unlike her to call me during the day; usually I didn't hear from her until early evening.

"Kirsten?"

TBC

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