Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the characters, not even the adorable Ryan Atwood/Ben McKenzie. The OC universe and all of its characters were created by Josh Schwartz and owned by him as well. Don't sue me Josh! I mean it! No copyright infringement intended!
First and foremost, thank you to all my readers who reviewed! It means so much to learn your feedback and thoughts.I promised an update in 2-4 weeks, and since I received some lovely feedback from those who left a review, I've decided to update in 2 weeks, rather than 4. Chapters 3 - 9 are already written, so if people keep reviewing, I can update this story fairly regularly. Feedback keeps me motivated.
As always, I want to give a shout-out to my AMAZING beta, beachtree. She is always so insightful and thorough, and she truly makes my writing better.
A/N: Keep in mind that this story explores Ryan's PTSD on many levels. Some of the upcoming chapters will explore Ryan's PTSD with respect to his traumatic past prior to living with the Cohens, and also the incident at the end of S2 where Trey attempted to rape Marissa and nearly killed Ryan. However, Chapter 2, in particular, introduces signs of Ryan's PTSD from the car crash that killed Marissa at the end of S3. Just always remember as you read this story that his PTSD is caused and exacerbated by multiple different traumatic events, and as you'll see, even small things that may seem innocuous to everyone else may serve to trigger him (I will eventually have Ryan see the psychiatrist - don't worry). Furthermore, I found it unrealistic that Ryan would not have suffered injuries from such a horrible automobile accident, so I have also addressed that in this chapter. I also found it unrealistic that Sandy would offer Volchok legal advice or representation (and so Sandy hasn't - and Volchok got his own lawyer). You may have noticed that in Chapter 1, Luke avoided saying Marissa's name around Ryan. There is a reason for that, which will be revealed in this chapter . . . and also subtly mentioned in future chapters.
I introduce 3 original characters in this chapter. They are some of Ryan's college friends. I want to note that Barry is based off one of my friends from back when I was in college. The main difference is I gave Barry some of my ethnic heritage (I am Jamaican American, too, though only one of my parents is Jamaican and the other parent is Hispanic). Barry grew up in the Midwest as well, which influences the way he communicates. As the story goes on, you will notice that he's a chameleon, who changes his speech depending on who he's talking to (as many of us who grow up with his ethnic background do). Lastly, I want to note that I am having so much fun writing Ryan as an architecture major at Berkeley, especially because I graduated from a science and engineering school and remember vividly what the atmosphere was like. I hope I've captured the feel of the school in this story (I've even done my research and every reference I make about the campus is accurate).
I hope you enjoy, and again, please read and review! :)
Chapter 2
Friday, September 26, 2008
A month and a half had passed since fall semester had started, and Ryan was beginning to feel burned out. Waking up in the morning on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays for Physics I and Calculus III was becoming increasingly harder every week. Tuesdays and Thursdays were even tougher for him because he had his Introduction to Visual Representation & Drawing class back-to-back in the afternoon with his Environmental Design Workshop, and each of his architecture classes ran for two and a half hours. Still, his longest and hardest day was ironically Friday, when most students, including Luke, had a lighter load. On Fridays, Ryan endured Physics I and Calculus III in the morning, followed by long hours of Architecture Studio. By six o'clock in the evening, he had to be dressed and ready to work an eight-hour shift at Via Del Corso.
Ryan's struggle wasn't due to the difficulty or amount of the work. He was a dedicated student, and he enjoyed his classes. He was a problem solver. Math and science had concrete answers. There was little room for argument in math and science, and there was negligible uncertainty, unlike his unpredictable and far-too-often painful life. Ryan hated argument and uncertainty.
Five weeks into the semester, Ryan had managed to receive high marks on his first exams and assignments. However, the lack of adequate sleep made him vulnerable to emotions that were bubbling just beneath the surface of his carefully maintained stoic exterior. His dreams, although not quite nightmares, were becoming progressively more upsetting, and escalating in frequency and intensity. When he awakened, Ryan could never remember his dreams. Nonetheless, he was always left feeling powerless, though he did not know why. There was an ominous feeling weighing him down.
"Chino, wake up before I kick your ass!" Luke taunted his friend. "Your alarm has been going off for a gazillion minutes. You're lucky I don't kick you out of bed right now."
The familiar sound of Luke's voice pulled Ryan away from his racing thoughts. His heavy eyelids fluttered open slowly, revealing two somber blue eyes. He felt exhausted and shaken but made every effort to appear normal to Luke. He glanced at his alarm clock, realizing it was already 6:15 am. "I'm awake," He croaked.
"Sure you are, pal," Luke smacked him with a pillow.
"You won't have to kick my ass. This semester already is," Ryan confessed, slowly sitting up in bed. It wasn't a lie. The lack of sleep was certainly taking its toll.
"You look terrible. When did you get to bed?" Luke asked, concerned.
"Thanks, buddy," Ryan retorted with a wry smile. "I was in the architecture building working on a project until two. I got back to the dorm at three."
"If you're too tired to run with me this morning, I won't be mad." Luke's tone was sympathetic.
"Nah, I'm good. Running with you each morning is the only thing keeping me sane right now," Ryan yawned, stretching his arms as he stood up to change into some workout shorts. "I'll be ready in five."
For the past few weeks, Luke had begun wondering if there was more to Ryan's words than he was letting on.
The roommates jogged around Berkeley's campus and ventured off onto Codornices Park on Euclid Avenue. The just-risen sun shone softly on the hiking trail, lined with groves of stunning oaks, bay trees, and redwoods. Normally, Ryan and Luke would talk as they went, but Luke was worried because this morning his friend seemed out of it.
After several minutes of hearing nothing but the sound of his and Ryan's controlled breathing, sneakers hitting pavement, and various types of birds chirping, Luke decided to break the silence.
"One of these days I'm going to drag your ass out to a Berkeley house party. The girls are gorgeous and smart. Have you even been with anyone since Taylor Townsend?"
Ryan shook his head, but otherwise remained quiet. If Luke hadn't briefly glanced at Ryan to see his expression, he would have missed his friend's response entirely.
"I still can't believe you dated Townsend. She's hot, but she's too high strung. You two are total opposites," Luke remarked.
Ryan tried to focus on his breathing as they picked up their pace. He didn't want to talk about Taylor. She had moved on with a wealthy French graduate student at Sorbonne University, and he was trying to focus on school. "Can we change the subject?" He pleaded.
"Sure. Sorry for bringing up Townsend. I just feel like it's my duty to get you out more. All you do is study and work. Maybe a little human interaction would be good for you, especially with the opposite sex. I can always introduce you to some nice girls from the sorority house," Luke offered.
The last thing Ryan wanted to do was date a sorority girl.
"Thanks, but . . . I'm kind of doing the single thing this year. I need to focus on myself," Ryan replied. "Plus, I deal with customers all day at work on weekends. I work with people constantly during lab, projects, and studio. I don't need more human interaction," he muttered.
Luke shrugged, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. "I'm just trying to help."
"I know, man. I'm sorry." Ryan's voice was so quiet that Luke questioned whether he had imagined the response.
"So why didn't you join a fraternity? You seem to enjoy that atmosphere," Ryan asked his friend, curiously.
"I tried to join freshman year at Oregon, but since I was transferring to Berkeley, I decided not to go through with it. At this point, I'd rather focus on intramurals and music than rushing as a transfer student. Besides, I may love the women, but a lot of those guys are jackasses."
"That's an understatement," Ryan snorted. "You'd fit right in."
"Shut up, Chino, before I break you," Luke teased his friend, punching him in the arm. "I see you're more awake now."
The two friends doubled over in laughter, slowing their pace.
"For now, I guess," Ryan agreed. Turning to his friend appreciatively, Ryan expressed his gratitude. "Thanks, Luke. I needed this," he said, holding eye contact. However, Ryan's behavior made Luke question even more whether something was wrong—at least more than the usual.
Several hours later, Ryan sat in his morning physics class, listening intently, and taking copious notes. He was seated towards the middle of the medium-sized lecture hall. To his right was his lab partner, Amy Cho. To his left, was their mutual study partner, Shruthi Singh. Ryan, Amy, and Shruthi had been studying together since freshman year and had become pretty good friends.
Amy was from Hong Kong and majoring in architecture. She was also in Ryan's Calculus III class and his Environmental Design Workshop. She was even partnered with Ryan on a project for architecture studio. Ryan appreciated her attention to detail and the two of them produced some of the highest marks in the class on physics lab reports. She was also fun to be around, and her video game and movie collection reminded Ryan of his days playing Yakuza and watching Master of the Flying Guillotine in Newport with Seth. While Ryan did not necessarily share the same tastes in video games and movies, the familiarity of her interests brought him comfort. At just 5 feet 2 inches, she was petite and attractive with thick black hair that fell just below her shoulders. She dressed casually, usually in printed t-shirts with yoga pants or jeans.
Shruthi was born and raised in California, but her parents were from Mumbai, India. She was meticulous and methodical, which helped her excel as a mechanical engineering major. She, Ryan, and Amy shared Physics I and Calculus III together. She was down-to-earth and a great study partner because she understood the foundational principles of each subject incredibly well. Ryan and Amy jokingly called her Ms. Fundamental. Shruthi had long black hair that she usually wore back in a ponytail. Her style was modest because she was a devout Hindu. Her favorite outfits included elegant sweater and jean combinations or colorful and flowing long dresses that reflected her cultural background. Ryan enjoyed learning about her culture and religion during study breaks.
"Torque is simply the product of the force, which is perpendicular to the lever arm, and this only works in rotational motion. The net torque in a balanced system is equal to zero. The most basic equation for Torque that I want you to memorize is . . . Tau is equal to r perpendicular F sin theta…," explained Professor Strominger. He was short and stout with unkempt light brown hair, black round spectacles, and a beard. He paced back and forth in the front of the classroom as he broke down various concepts on circular motion and torque. Occasionally, he stopped to jot a series of equations onto the dry erase board.
"Hey, I missed what the prof wrote on the board for circular motion," Amy whispered to Ryan. "Can I see your notes?"
Ryan nodded and pushed his notebook towards the edge of his desk so that she could copy it.
The sound of Professor Strominger's nasally, monotonous voice filled the room as he began introducing concepts from the eighth chapter of their physics textbook. He discussed work functions for several minutes and then paused briefly to remove his eyeglasses and wipe off the lenses. Slowly, he pinched the bridge of his nose and then slid his eyeglasses back on.
"As I explained earlier in the lecture, work is defined as the definite integral from a to b of your work function, or put in other words, work equals the integral from the initial position to the final position of force with respect to position," he stated, writing yet another formula on the large dry erase board. "Does anyone remember when a force is considered external?"
No students raised their hands. "Since none of you are volunteering, and participation is 10% of your grade, I will start calling on students," the professor declared. Scanning the class attendance sheet, he called on a red-headed student named Marisa Semenov. He pronounced her name as Muh-rih-suh, which sounded almost identical to Marissa.
At the sound of the name, Ryan could feel his body tensing with anxiety. It became hard for him to breathe. He desperately wished he could stop the flood of memories that suddenly overwhelmed his senses.
The sound of metal clanking against metal assaults Ryan's ears as Volchok's large SUV rams into his smaller vehicle several times.
Ryan loses control of the steering wheel.
"Ryan, look out!" Marissa shrieks.
His vehicle tumbles violently out of control and off the roadway.
He's woozy as the flipped vehicle finally stops moving. He can feel considerable pain in his lower back and right shoulder, but adrenaline keeps him going as he climbs out of the wreckage.
He carries Marissa away from the burning vehicle, stumbling as he gently lowers her limp body to the ground.
"I'm going to get help, okay?"
"No. Stay..."
Moments pass and she takes her last breath…in his arms. He feels her spirit leave her body. Shock numbs him and he shivers.
He recalls something he'd said to Sadie months before at Johnny's funeral.
"No one close to me has ever…ever died."
"Really?" Sadie had replied. "It seems like everyone close to me has."
Now he understands how it feels to lose someone who had been close.
Minutes pass and soft sobs rack his weakened frame as he hugs her lifeless corpse. He's distraught. Memories of her—both good and bad—suddenly flash before him.
A million thoughts race through his unsettled mind. She was leaving to start a new life and now she will never get that chance. It is a tragic ending for a young girl . . . just eighteen-years-old, who will never step foot in college, never get married, never get to experience adulthood…
This is not how they were supposed to say goodbye.
…
Abruptly, he wakes up in a hospital bed in severe pain. He doesn't know the time or the day. The room is dark and he's all alone, drenched in a cold sweat. He wants to scream but can't. He has an excruciating headache, and his back is killing him. His ribs ache. His right shoulder is throbbing. Despite the pain, all he can focus on is how Volchok was coming after him.
He can't stop thinking about the events leading up to the accident. Could he have pulled over? Would she have lived? Is he to blame? Why didn't God take him instead of her? Why is he still here? It was his idea to take her to the airport in the first place. It was him driving. It was his car that is now totaled.
"It's my fault," he laments, convinced that everyone in his life is better off without him.
His eyes search the cold, dark room for the Cohens, but he sees no one. "They gave up on me," he whispers into the dismal silence. He can't tell if he's dreaming or if this is his new reality, but he knows he doesn't deserve the Cohens anyway.
…
Next, he wakes up from a nightmare in the dark storage closet at the back of a bar where he has been sleeping. "It's my fault," he chokes. "Volchok was coming after me.I bring nothing but trouble. Everyone is better off without me." His worst fears continue to play in his mind like a mantra.
"Ryan Atwood…," Professor Strominger's voice turned louder.
Abruptly, Ryan snapped back to reality. He was unsure how many minutes had passed, or how many students the professor had called on, since his mind began racing. Trying to control his breathing, he stared down at his trembling hands and slowly looked up in the direction of the professor's line of vision. The entire class was gawking at him, causing his stomach to twist into knots. Stealing a glance to his left and to his right, he could see that both Amy and Shruthi appeared confused and worried. Ryan sighed. How many times had the professor called his name?
In a concerned tone, the professor asked, "Is everything okay, Mr. Atwood?"
"Uhm," Ryan began hesitantly. He cleared his throat and tried to sound more confident and believable as he answered, "Yes, Dr. Strominger."
"Good. Then you'll answer my question."
Ryan's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I, uh—I—didn't, uh…I didn't hear the question, sir," He admitted, hoping the professor would opt not to humiliate him.
"Very well. I will repeat the question. In deriving the Work-Energy Theorem, please tell me what the integral of velocity is with respect to velocity, and then plug in the proper limits to give me the net Work function."
"Uhm, yes, sir. The integral of velocity with respect to velocity is equal to velocity squared divided by two. Then after plugging in the limits from initial velocity to the final velocity, the net Work function is equal to one half times the mass times the final velocity squared minus one half times the mass times the initial velocity squared," Ryan responded confidently, grateful for all the late-night study sessions with Lindsay back in high school. Even with his agitated mental state, physics came easily to him, and he was way ahead of the game.
"Very good, Mr. Atwood," the professor's expression conveyed a hint of surprise. "Very good," he further emphasized.
After announcing the new homework assignment, the class was dismissed. A dazed Ryan exhaled deeply as he stood from his chair, slinging his backpack over his right shoulder. Moving his right shoulder slightly to adjust the strap, he felt a twinge of pain which served as another reminder of that night. The injury he sustained to his right shoulder was permanent. Not even rotator cuff surgery last summer was able to fix it. The doctors informed him that he would experience some degree of pain while participating in certain activities for the rest of his life, and that arthritis in that shoulder was inevitable.
"Are you okay?"
Ryan recognized his lab partner's gentle voice. He turned around to see Amy and Shruthi waiting for him by the double doors leading out to the hallway of the physics building. Genuine concern was etched in their features. Both girls knew very little about Ryan's past life.
Taking a deep breath, Ryan looked down at his scuffed boots and pressed his lips into a thin line. "Yeah," He nodded warily, finally meeting each of their gazes through heavy eyelashes. "I'm fine." It wasn't a complete lie, he convinced himself. He would be fine. He had to be.
Amy and Shruthi were not convinced, but realized they had no choice but to accept his answer, for now. The three of them walked in silence to their next class.
Following Calculus III, Ryan walked to the library to get a head start on his homework. Afterwards, he met Luke at the on-campus Foothill Dining Hall for lunch. He'd been tense since the flashbacks in physics class. He didn't feel like socializing, but he'd promised Luke they'd eat lunch together.
"Hey, you know what you want?" Luke asked his roommate as they entered the crowded cafeteria.
Ryan shrugged. Throughout his childhood, he was lucky to even get one meal per day. He had been content in Newport to eat whatever the Cohens provided, and he wasn't going to start being picky now.
Luke ate at Foothill Dining Hall much more often than Ryan did, so Ryan let his friend take the lead.
"How about omelets? I like that this place serves breakfast food all day long and the omelets are pretty good."
"Sure," Ryan nodded, following in step behind Luke to the back of the omelet line.
"Hey, look, it's Barry," Luke gestured towards a tall, lean student with light brown skin, soulful brown eyes, and a low-cut fade. Ryan turned and waved.
Barry approached Ryan and Luke with a broad smile and stood with them in line.
"Why hello, gentlemen," he said, still smiling. His voice was smooth and deep. "How's it going?"
"Just grabbin' a quick lunch," Luke answered. "Wanna sit with us?"
"Yessir. Yessir. Would love to," Barry responded.
Ryan's lips quirked into a small half-smile. Barry hunched his tall frame slightly to accommodate Ryan's smaller stature as the two 'dapped each other up.' Barry was easygoing and Ryan felt comfortable around him.
Barry's full name was Barrington Genard Williams. He was born in Queens, New York, and grew up in Michigan, but his parents were originally from Jamaica. His father had been a primary care doctor but had died of cancer during his senior year of high school. His mother was a retired nurse. Barry was a biochemistry major who was determined to follow in his late father's footsteps and go to medical school.
He lived on the same floor as Ryan and Luke in Norton Hall. Like Ryan, he worked two jobs and was an RA. Ryan had first met Barry at an RA training session over the summer, and the two sophomores hit it off right from the start. Barry had even opened up to him about his father's passing during a conversation the two had one night while doing homework in Norton Hall's study lounge. Ryan introduced Barry to Luke, and the three quickly became friends.
After finding a seat in the far-left corner of the dining hall, the trio struck up a pleasant conversation.
"Dude, has anyone ever told you that you'd be great for radio? You have the best voice," Luke commented in between mouthfuls of his large ham and cheese omelet.
"Or television," Ryan agreed. "I can picture you on television."
"Why thank you, sir," Barry responded, first to Luke. "And sir," he smiled, turning towards Ryan to make eye contact. Barry's soft North Midwestern accent emphasized the word, sir, in a way that came across as brotherly rather than formal. "Yes, I have been told that before, but medical school is the only route for me. I've wanted to be a doctor ever since my dad let me hold his stethoscope when I was five." Ryan noticed a tinge of sadness in Barry's eyes at the memory of his father.
"I'd give anything to be that focused on a goal," Luke chimed in. "Me? I've got nothing. Sometimes I feel like I'm in college just to say down the line that I got a degree."
"You'll figure it out. No reason to rush, right?" Barry assured him.
Ryan and Luke exchanged a knowing glance, thinking back to their previous conversations on the topic.
"How about you, Ryan? Have you always wanted to be an architect?" Barry asked with genuine interest.
Ryan set his fork down next to his half-eaten vegetable and cheese omelet. The conversation took on a more serious tone as he searched for the right words. With a pensive expression, he thought back to his childhood. He used to enjoy building things with Legos, even though his older brother, Trey, would always tear down whatever he built. When Ryan played baseball for Chino Hills Middle School, he used to escape from his tumultuous home life by spending time with Coach Foster and his wife, Carol, at their bungalow. Carol was an architect, and eleven-year-old Ryan would spend hours next to her in the den as she drafted construction documents by hand. Flipping through her architecture magazines, he became fascinated by the various designs and the science behind it all. When he started working construction at age thirteen, he observed the architects on sight and decided that was what he wanted to be. Carol told him he'd have to maintain his grades to be an architect, so Ryan worked very hard in school. Then, Dawn's alcoholism and drug use became progressively worse, her various boyfriends became increasingly more abusive, and he ended up in a group home for six months. When he returned home to Dawn, he'd lost all hope and missed school for much of that year.
Ryan let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Making eye contact with Barry, he began to formulate an answer to his question. "I, uh, didn't always know what I wanted to do. For many years I didn't really think about my future." Ryan paused, wanting to choose his words carefully. "I knew I wanted to be an architect when I was in middle school, but…"
Ryan hesitated, chewing on his inner lip. He was unsure how much he wanted to reveal to Barry. However, Barry had shared a lot with him about his father's battle with cancer and seemed trustworthy. Ryan decided it would be okay to hint at his past without giving too many details. Now staring down at what was left of his cold food, he explained quietly, "My mom was a train wreck, and my home life … deteriorated. I buried that dream and focused on just surviving…" Looking up again to meet Barry's earnest gaze, he smiled softly. "And then I met the Cohens." Ryan's eyes brightened with emotion. "If it weren't for Sandy, I—I would have given up on this architect thing a long time ago."
Barry had met Sandy a few times over the past few weekends. He was aware that the Cohens took Ryan in as a teenager, and that Sandy acted as a surrogate father to Ryan. He empathized with Ryan. Even though Barry had been blessed with a good home life, many of his friends in Detroit had grown up without fathers and without stability. Ryan didn't have to deal with the racism Barry's friends experienced growing up since he was white, but Barry knew all his friends back home would like Ryan and relate to his struggle.
Luke listened intently, growing an even fonder appreciation for his roommate and friend. However, he could tell that Ryan was becoming tense and slightly uncomfortable having such a personal conversation in a crowded setting. Barry also picked up on Ryan's body language. Careful to maintain eye contact with Ryan, he replied softly, "I really admire your perseverance, and I admire Sandy for keeping you focused on your goals. I can imagine it must have been difficult for you to reconcile your past life with your present life."
"Thanks, Barry. Still is, really. I just know that I'm lucky to be here." Ryan paused and swallowed hard, trying to push the flashbacks from earlier out of his mind. Lucky to even be alive, he thought. "And I'm very grateful for all Sandy and the Cohens have done for me."
Over three hours had passed since Ryan arrived in sophomore architecture studio, and he could feel a headache coming on. Amy had quietly worked alongside him on their project without their usual lighthearted banter. He could tell she wanted to ask him about what happened earlier in physics class, but he didn't want to think about it. They finally wrapped things up at 4:30 in the afternoon and Ryan began the twenty-minute walk to his dormitory to get ready for work.
During his trek from the architecture building to Norton Hall, Sandy called.
"Hey, kid. I'm taking a breather from the office and just wanted to check in before you take off to work. How was your day?"
"Hey, Sandy," Ryan greeted his surrogate father. "Thanks for checking in." He sighed. "Honestly, it's been a long day."
"Do you want to talk about it?" Sandy asked with fatherlike concern.
"I don't know. I'm still processing things. I haven't slept much so I'm probably not thinking too clearly."
"Did something happen?"
"Not really, no. I just…"
Ryan didn't finish his sentence, so Sandy gently pushed him for more of a response. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me, kid."
"Is Volchok getting out next year?" Ryan finally asked, taking Sandy by surprise.
They hadn't talked about Kevin Volchok since he was sentenced in late 2007. Volchok had been indicted on charges of DUI second degree murder, attempted murder, two counts of felony hit and run, one count of second-degree felony murder (with aggravated assault as the predicate offense), and aggravated assault, for the accident that left Ryan with physical and mental scars and killed Marissa. The assistant district attorney assigned to Volchok's case had worked out a plea deal with Volchok's private attorney wherein the DUI second degree murder charge was reduced to voluntary manslaughter, and the attempted murder, felony murder, and aggravated assault charges were dismissed. Volchok pled guilty to voluntary manslaughter and two counts of felony hit and run. He was given a fifteen-year sentence with the first six years of the sentence to be spent at the state prison and the remainder to be served on probation.
Ryan had felt as though he'd been punched in the gut when he heard about the plea bargain. He couldn't help but think that the prosecutor had been biased against him, never taking him seriously as a witness or a victim from the outset. The prosecutor never even seemed to care that he sustained injuries in the car accident or that he, too, could have died. In Ryan's view, justice had not prevailed. Julie Cooper had been equally upset with the outcome.
"Well, Volchok was in custody from the time of his arrest to the date of his sentence and was given credit for time served. Usually, inmates are eligible for parole in California after serving half of their sentence. He was arrested in November 2006, and next November will be three years. So yes, there is a chance he could be paroled late next year," Sandy answered, matter-of-factly.
"That's what I thought," Ryan sighed, his headache intensifying.
Hoping to appease Ryan's unease, Sandy added, "On the other hand, there is also a possibility that he'll end up serving all six years in confinement. He had a few priors. . . and with his temperament, who knows if he's gotten himself into more trouble while in prison."
Sandy was met with silence on the other line, which prompted him to push Ryan a little bit harder for answers. "What's going on, Ryan? Talk to me," he pleaded. "Why is Volchok on your mind again all of a sudden?"
"It's…it's been a long day, Sandy. I'm sorry."
"Whatever it is that's bothering you, I want you to know that I'm here every step of the way. I'm not going anywhere," Sandy reassured him.
"Thanks, Sandy," Ryan replied, his voice quiet but grateful. "I'll talk to you soon."
Sandy heard the click signaling the end of the call and sat down in his office chair, scratching his head. His thick black eyebrows knitted together into a worried frown. If only he could get through to Ryan, he thought. He wanted to drop by Ryan's job to make sure he was okay, but ultimately decided against it. What Ryan needed was space and time to gather his thoughts and Sandy trusted that Ryan would eventually come to him.
A/N: Julie, Kaitlin, and Ryan's 1-year-old brother, Logan (whom Julie conceived with Frank at the end of S4) will make their first appearances in the next chapter. The next chapter will also begin to tackle Ryan's PTSD with respect to his traumatic childhood prior to living with the Cohens.