Thanks to Dixie f. 9. And Tif S for reviewing

There is a new edit in the collection for this story. For Clark. The link to the collection is on my profile. Clark is portrayed by Mace Coronel.

I know I just put up a chapter last night but- I just had to write this too.

Later the same day as I had been to the hospital and met Ryan again I was driving up the roads towards Chino. These parts of California I did try to stay out of as much as much as I could. It did remind me of where I'd been born and grew up. But it seemed like a different world than from where I was now and I didn't want to see anything that reminded me of it. At least not stay there more than for driving through. Like I had to do now.

"Twelve…" I checked the numbers on the houses and mumbled them to myself, finally driving up Oakwell road. Odd numbers on one side, even on the other. "Fifteen… eighteen… Twenty one." I pulled over in front of what must be the right house and pulled the brakes. "Here we go." I stepped out of the car, walked around it and hurried up the porch steps before I knocked on the door.

During waiting I looked around a bit. The front porch was small, and there were plastic bags and empty bottles lying everywhere. One old bike was thrown in the middle of the yard and the whole neighborhood stunk.

I knocked on the door again, harder this time. But still there wasn't a sound from inside and I knocked again, hard. Before I suddenly heard a bang from inside and then heavy footsteps.

"What?" Just as I was about to leave Mr. Atwood finally opened door. Then stopped in the door with one hand still on the door handle and the other (which was also holding a glass bottle with whatever in it) on the door frame as if he couldn't for his life imagine to let me in or at all move from the door during this century.

"Frances Atwood?"

"Frank. And I don't want to buy anything."

Before I'd had the chance to say anything or stop him Frank had shut the door in my face and left me standing on the porch again. I sighed deeply and knocked on the door again. Knowing that even if I wanted to give up I couldn't.

"I said I don't want to buy anything."

"I'm not selling anything."

"Get lost then."

When Mr. Atwood tried to shut the door again I kicked out and stopped the door with my foot. Mr. Atwood glared at me (I could see where Ryan had gotten that from if nothing else). But at least didn't tug it again.

"I have to talk to you about your son. I met him in Thailand after the tsunami. I figured you might want to know he's safe. And maybe you'd like to visit him in the hospital."

"After the what? Visit him in the what?"

I felt a frown form in my forehead. Hadn't he heard?

"Mr. Atwood. Have you watched the news or read the newspaper during the last couple of days?"

Or even went outside the door?

"Nope. Why? What happened? Is there something I should "

"There was an earthquake… There has been tsunamis…" Mr. Atwood raised an eyebrow. "Big, monster- waves. They come in towards land and cause great, big floods. Around the coast of Asia. I and my wife and son were in a place called Khao Lak in Thailand. Your wife and sons were too. I met one of them when I was looking for my family after the wave. He's now back here at the hospital in Newport. Mr. Atwood. I don't… It's important so… Maybe we can go inside and we can talk for a bit. I don't really want to stand on the porch and tell you about… things."

"Sure." Frank didn't exactly happy about it. But he did back away from the door to let me in. Then drank from his bottle while I passed him and led me into a small kitchen. "Sit." He pulled up a chair and hit it right over. "Oh damn. Not again." He picked it up again, hit the leg of it slightly and then sat down. "Sit. There's another chair there. That one's not broken."

"Well then. My name is Sanford Cohen. Sandy you can call me…"

"If you came here to tell me about your name you can leave again. I am not interested."

"No. I came here to tell you that your son is in hospital. There were earthquakes out in the ocean outside Asia's coast lines a few days ago. Which caused these huge, monster-waves. A lot of people were hurt and I lost my family in it. When I was looking for them I found your son and we started going around searching together. He has a hurt leg so he couldn't move on his own. I found my family. And just about then your son collapsed due to infections in his leg. He had surgery as well as it was possible to do there. Then they flew him to the hospital in Newport to get better care and I and my wife and son could get on the same flight. Now he has had more surgery and will be staying in hospital. Since both his mum and brother got lost in the wave I have taken care of him as if he was my own son. But he needs one of his guardians… parents. And he gave me your address so I could come here and tell you that he is in hospital and he's back here and safe."

Mr. Atwood only watched me for what must have been several minutes with the tip of his bottle still to his lips. Putting everything I had said together and then, at last breathed in to speak and said something.

"When can I go visit my son then? When can I go visit Trey?"

I realized I had never said it wasn't Trey who was in the hospital here. I had just mentioned him as his son or brother.

"No wait… You got me wrong. It's not Trey in the hospital, it's your other son- Ryan."

"So... Where is he? Where's Trey?"

"Trey got lost in the wave. Dawn too. We… I and Ryan and another friend of ours ran around in the hospitals trying to find them but we couldn't. Then the wounds on Ryan's leg got infected. They had to do surgery and then took him back here to get better care."

Once again Mr. Atwood silent and frowned. Then slowly put what I had said together and drank more from his bottle. Obviously ignoring the fact that he was already drunk and it wasn't even noon.

"So… Trey's missing. He was in the wave the Sue-whatever you called it. And Dawn is missing too… Do you think that they… they might not even be… alive… Do you think they might have been killed? Trey's not a very good swimmer."

"A lot of people died in that wave. I don't think it mattered much who were good swimmers or not. Yeah… a lot of people died. But a lot of people lived too and it's only been a couple of days so we can't give up hope yet that Trey and Dawn might come back."

Mr. Atwood frowned and looked thoughtful. I could almost hear the way his alcoholic-ridden mind had to go on and on to understand what I had just told him and what it meant.

"So, you're saying you don't know where Dawn and Trey are… But you do know that Ryan's safe and in town. In the hospital while Dawn and Trey might not even be alive. Have I gotten this right?"

"Yes."

"Ryan is safe and Trey's missing?"

"Yes."

Mr. Atwood frowned and drank more from his bottle. And there was something in the way he looked at me that sent shivers down my spine. As if there was something in it- something evil.

"Shame."

I couldn't tell he didn't scare me. But of course, that was a way to say it too. But wait… Ryan safe, Trey missing and then shame? Well… Maybe he just meant it was a shame that Trey was missing- of course that's what he meant.

Well I could try to fool myself if nothing else.

"I was thinking that if Ryan has got things… clothes or anything that he could use to pass by time here. Then I could bring it with me to the hospital and no one will have to go back and forth between Newport and Chino several times to get the things."

"I think they took most things with them when they left." Frank stood up, but swayed and stumbled back and forth when he walked out of the room. "Just a minute. I'll go check."

When Mr. Atwood had left the room I took the chance to look around. It was dirty and dusty. It stunk of dust, mold and alcohol. Everywhere stood beer bottles and cans. It didn't seem as if this place had been cleaned for the last year or so.

"Here." Mr. Atwood came back into the kitchen and threw me a filled up plastic bag. "That's all of Ryan's things I could find. Now. You've got the things. I know what happened bla bla bla." He lit a cigar. I got the point.

"I guess I'll leave then." I pulled a paper sheet out of my back pocket. "Here is the phone number to me, to the hospital. The number on Ryan's room, stuff like that." I threw the paper on the table. "Whoa."

Mr. Atwood had rudely grabbed me and pulled me with him through the kitchen and threw the hallway where he pushed me out the door so hard I stumbled outside and then fell down the porch to end up on my back on the ground.

"And don't come back." Before I had the chance to look up Mr. Atwood threw something at me and slammed the door behind him going into the house. I took what at first seemed like a big piece of fabric, then held it up in front of me and realized it was a jacket. And with that I got up, checked my shirt sleeves (I had ripped up holes when I fell backwards and one of my elbows had a bleeding wound.)

Now, what else could go any worse?

I got the plastic bag from the ground and went back to my car in relief. One thing was for certain though. If I didn't have to for Ryan's sake- I wouldn't want to return here in a rush.

I threw the plastic bag and jacket in the shotgun seat. There was no reason for me to stay. Nothing I could do for Ryan anyway so I backed out of the driveway as quickly as I could and drove down the road with concentration on everything but the road ahead of me.

Wave, water everywhere, Ryan, surgery, amputation, Clark, Frank… Kirsten and Seth. Everything I loved! Everything I cared for! It was all spinning in my mind and made my head feel like it would either shut off or explode.

I didn't return to reality until I accidentally drove straight into a crossroad against a red light. And even then I didn't notice until I heard the blasting honk to a car that almost drove straight into me. And stood on my brakes not to hit another one- hard.

I couldn't stand in the middle of the crossroad for any time so I hit the gas again and drove into the side of the road where I braked and then turned the car off. The sounds of the blasting car horns were still ringing in my ears and my heart beating so hard I could feel the blood streaming through them.

Sitting right there, at the side of the road everything made me want to break down crying all over again. Even though I barely knew why- damn it! What hadn't that wave taken with it? Energy, feelings, strength, concentration? I had met drunks through work millions of times before but right now. After like twenty minutes at Mr. Atwood's I just wanted to either cry or lay down and sleep.

At last I turned the key and shifted the gear to start driving again something in the shotgun seat caught my eye. And when I turned I saw that the bag I had been standing there had tipped over and out had fallen a ragged old teddy bear.

"Hey." I reached out and took it. "Where did you come from?" The teddy bear was of the kind that you could get at any supermarket, brown, soft and with a blue bow around its neck. Big thatches of its fabric fur was long gone and its brown glass-eyes had a calm and thoughtful look to them looking up at me. "Are you Ryan's? Well. I better take you back to him." I snorted at myself and put the teddy bear away. "My God Sandy Cohen. Talking to a teddy bear? Have you lost your mind?"

Well maybe I had! Because when I put the teddy bear back on the shotgun seat I made sure it was comfortable. And then stretched out and pulled the seatbelt over its stomach.

"Now. Don't take that off. You'll go through the windshield if I have to brake like that again." I started the car and steered out back into the road. Then sat silent for several minutes before I said something again. "Do you know something that fascinates me? How children carry around on stuffed animals like you. Like every single step they take that stuffed animal is in their hands. And even when they're older. They just mean so much. And they end up having gone through so much together…" I stroke a part of the teddy bear's head the fur was off. "You and Ryan must have been together through a lot huh?"

It was almost like I could hear the teddy bear answer me yes.

"Now. Can you tell me something? Can you tell me what big, mean Frank has done to you? Did he ever hit you? Or kick? Or push? He did push me but I had only been there for a little while. You do know. That if someone does something like that it is very important that you tell an adult. Someone else, like a teacher or someone else you trust. Someone that could do something about it?"

I wasn't a teacher- but of course, what could I do about it? The time would come when Ryan was leaving the hospital and most likely going back to Chino.

But no- if this drunk, rude, obviously quite violent bastard I had seen today was the way Frances Atwood usually acted. Then there was no way I was going to send Ryan back to him. He had already been through way too much as it was.

"Oh Teddy. I kept my eyes on the road moaning to that bear again. What can I do to make this better for Ryan? Can you tell me that?"

Sandy has now met Frank. Who is not in prison like he is in the series- but he's a drunk and quite rude. He does pull Sandy with him and then push him so hard Sandy actually falls- and that's an adult full-grown man. So what couldn't he do to a child?

Random fact

I love the idea of Ryan having an old teddy bear. And the only idea I like more than that idea is that Sandy does talk to it as if he was talking to a human being- so cute!