Disclaimer: I don't own the O.C. At all.
"The sun rose slowly, as if it wasn't sure it was worth all the effort.
Terry Pratchett, The Light Fantastic
This chapter is dedicated to Cynthia and Ansy Pansy aka Panz (read note at bottom!) who have reviewed every chapter so far and especially to Dogsbody (here's the angst you asked for!) who I think has reviewed every single chapter of every single thing that I have written on Thanks guys!!
Sandy trudged into the living room, clad in a thick white terry robe and black socks. His hair was unruly as usual, and even though he ran his hand through the mop, his half-hearted attempt to tame it was in vain.
It was half past five in the morning and Sandy was none too happy that he had been woken from his deep slumber. It wasn't that someone had woken him up; it was the lack of someone that had woken him up. Kirsten. Sandy had hoped his restless nights would come to an end once his wife returned home, but alas, they weren't over yet. He had given up on sleep and went in search of his wife. What he found made him smile. If he were a woman (because Sandy was all man) he would've sighed "aww".
Ryan and Kirsten had fallen asleep sometime after their eighth ninja battle. Kirsten was curled up on one end of the sofa half lying, half sitting, her head resting on a propped up cushion. Ryan's head lay on her lap, and one of her hands rested reassuringly on his shoulder. Ryan was stretched out on the sofa one hand still tenuously holding the PS2 controller. The television quietly blared in the background, "GAME OVER" flashing on the screen.
Sandy smiled and gently took the controller from Ryan's hand and turned the television off. Neither of his two favourite blondes stirred. The silence filled the room.
He quietly padded into the kitchen and turned the tap on, getting himself a glass of water. He didn't want to risk disturbing the peace to boil the kettle for a coffee.
Sandy downed the glass in several gulps, then let out a satisfied sigh. A stray hair on his bushy eyebrows obscured his view. He tried to pull it out, with all the finesse of a bear removing a splinter, resulting in him pulling out several hairs before the intended hair came out. Sandy scowled, before rubbing his fingers clean of the offending hairs.
Sandy splayed his hands on the kitchen worktop and gazed out of the window. The sun was beginning to peak out of the horizon, dark blue merging with pinks and oranges and reds and yellows. It reminded him of Seth as a child, covers up to his nose in a brightly coloured Batman duvet hiding a cheeky grin. The glorious rays languidly bathed the backyard in a gentle glow. Shadows still permeated however, stealing corners and sides from behind the sun. Sneakily, they robbed the ground from warmth. Such was the struggle of dawn. Dawn. Dawn.
"Now there's Pandora's box, wrapped up neatly in one word," thought Sandy.
He'd thought about Dawn constantly since Kirsten's rehabilitation. It was inevitable really. Too much time on his hands. He'd compared both of them objectively in his lawyer's brain, whilst the husband's mind made sure that Kirsten came out on top. He had to. He couldn't bear to think otherwise. It was the only way he could deal.
After Ryan came to live with the Cohen's, Dawn had managed to elude contact. Finally the elder Cohen's had caught up with her and found her swamped in Jack Daniels and drugs Sandy was both glad and horrified that he didn't recognise what they were.
"You sshtole him from me," Dawn slurred, a bottle of Jack dangling precariously in one hand, and in the other two fingers propped up a spliff. "My baby's coming back to look after his Mama, yesh he issss…"
Sandy had clutched his wife tightly and thanked God and Moses and even Caleb Nichol that the two women were nothing alike.
Dawn had carried on mumbling "…took my baby, Ry'll understand what's good for him, my baby will come back, he will…"
Suddenly, whilst Sandy was still pondering Dawn had thrown the half empty bottle at Kirsten's head, yelling "Bitch! All your fault! You took my boy!"
Sandy's heart had stopped but Kirsten's lightning quick reflexes amazed even herself as she dodged the bottle. She missed narrowly, the bottle shattering on the stained wall behind her, where it finally rested in a million glass tears.
"Thank God for Yogalates," breathed Sandy, his heart beating a mile a minute.
Dawn's actions had even surprised her, and she burst into a hysterical drunk sobbing fit. Kirsten had then untangled herself from the embrace she had jumped into with Sandy, and knelt next to the brown bobbled chair Dawn was slumped in. Kirsten was shaken, but her body did not betray her feelings, exuding a calm air.
"Sit up," ordered Kirsten. Wretched gasps still escaped from the older woman, but Kirsten's sharp words had had the desired effect and the hysterics had ceased.
"We did not steal your son from you. You left him. With us. Now we love your son, and he is never coming back to something like this ever again. You hear me?" Kirsten's harsh words juxtaposed with her calm, resolute tone was unnerving and Dawn couldn't help but listen. She unconsciously leant in closer. "Now you listen to me, we will help you, we will put you in rehab, a good rehab, but if you don't stay sober and drug free, you are never seeing Ryan again. You will not put him through that one more time."
With that Kirsten had stood up, brushed her hands on her jeans and took Sandy by the hand. He was still shell shocked by Dawn's actions and the squalor she was living in. Thoughts of what Ryan had had to go through swirled round his mind, until Dawn raised her voice again.
"AJ! AJ! He'll come home and look after me. He'll look after you too if you know what I mean." Dawn grinned lopsidedly, her eyes narrowed to slits. She slugged back the remains of vodka hidden amongst an array of empty bottles.
"Come on," muttered Kirsten and led Sandy away.
Needless to say, rehab hadn't worked out as well for Dawn as it had for Kirsten. Sandy had arranged for Dawn to go to Suriak, that was why he had had the brochure on hand for Kirsten when she took to the bottle. Kirsten had signed the cheque for Dawn, and neither of them had mentioned the visit to Ryan. He had already been through enough. Sandy was gladder than ever that Ryan hadn't known; he would have reacted to Kirsten in a totally different way.
"I just stood there and did nothing. Nothing! Just like now," Sandy thought to himself. "I could be the best lawyer in the whole damned world but I froze. In a moment like that. Why? Just like with the situation with Kirsten. It's so easy to ignore the elephant in the room, to refuse to acknowledge that my wife has a problem that I can't take care of. I didn't want to fail her, to fail us. I refused to believe she had a problem for so long, that in the end it just made it worse. I'm so thankful that she never deteriorated to Dawn's level, but maybe she did and just had a more acceptable hidden way. God, I'm so stupid. Even now she's hurting and I just freeze. I can take her into my arms but I don't have a damned clue how to help her."
The lack of sleep and the overwhelming emotions flowing through him made things eventually too much for him. Tears prickled at his eyelids with an intensity that wouldn't recede, and a few choked sobs came out. He balled his hand into a fist and raised it to his mouth to silence him. He rushed outside into the balmy outdoors, tears streaming more freely, and he kicked, kicked, kicked the tyres of their nearest car. He whirled round, pounding his fist into the body of the car, relishing the pain that coursed through him. Emotionally spent, he collapsed on the doorstep and quietly sobbed until his tears ran dry and all that was left was dry heaving.
Six o'clock. Dawn had broken.