AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wow, thanks for all the reviews, guys! I don't know why this story isn't showing up on the "Just In" page, but I am thankful for all the reviews! This is the next installment, the end is pasted in from another "OC" story I was working on, so I hope it fits! I hope everyone likes this chapter, too!

2nd Author's note: Someone requested a synopsis of the show so here goes: "The O.C." is about a lower class teenager, Ryan Atwood, who gets appointed with a sympathetic public defender, Sandy Cohen. Ryan got busted for trying to steal a car, and at 16, with his first offense, attracts Sandy's attention because of his great test scores and clean record. Anyway, Ryan's mom kicks him out, Sandy takes him in and Ryan makes friends with Sandy's son Seth and their beautiful neighbor, Marissa, both sixteen, too.

NOWà to the story!

Ryan nods. "Okay. I'll call her when I get back." He sits down with the soup that Kirsten puts in front of him.

"Ryan, I have to go down to the courthouse and work on some things so Kirsten's going to take you to the doctor."

"That's fine," Ryan replies, quietly.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Seth asks.

"It's up to you. It shouldn't take too long, I hope, right?" Ryan asks, glancing at Kirsten.

"Why don't you stay here? You hate the doctor's office, Seth and…" Sandy starts.

"It shouldn't take long, Seth. You guys can hang out when we get back, okay?" Kirsten smiles, reassuringly at Ryan.

"It's cool." Ryan finishes his soup as Kirsten says goodbye to Sandy. Seth sits down beside Ryan.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Ryan replies, quietly.

"But…"

"I got sick. I hadn't eaten in a while and the food made me sick. I'm okay," Ryan adds.

"Okay. You sure you don't want me to come with you to the doctor?" Seth whispers.

"It's fine. I'm not really looking forward to it, but it should be fine. Maybe they'll give me some good drugs," Ryan mutters.

"What?"

"It was a joke, Seth," Ryan replies, a slight smile on his face.

"Oh. Okay," Seth replies, a concerned look on his face.

"I am capable of joking. At least I used to be," Ryan states.

"You ready, Ryan?" Kirsten asks, reappearing in the kitchen before Seth can respond.

"Yeah."

Kirsten waits patiently in the waiting room for Dr. Gregson to finish examining Ryan. Kirsten had explained Ryan's situation to the doctor, describing his uncertain home-life and his 2 weeks living on the streets. After two hours of waiting, Dr. Gregson walks out with Ryan following, his eyes lowered.

Ryan's arm is in an air cast supported by a sling around his shoulder.

"He's all yours. Here's some prescriptions that I've given him to help with the pain," The doctor starts, handing Kirsten a stack of prescriptions. "As well as some vitamins and anti-nausea medication. I've also given him some things to think about and discuss with you and Sandy."

"Is there anything else I should know about?" Kirsten asks.

"Ryan is a very intelligent young man. I trust that he'll fill you in. I've made him an appointment for a couple of weeks from now so we can check on how his arm is healing. Take care, guys." The doctor gives Ryan a warm smile before leaving.

"She's nice," Ryan mutters to Kirsten as they stand in line at the pharmacy.

"Dr. Gregson's great. We've been going to her for years."

"I need to talk to you about a couple of these prescriptions. The ones I'm not going to take. I told the doctor that I didn't need them and she suggested I explain my reasons to you and Mr. Cohen," Ryan says quietly.

"Well, we'll get them all and we can talk about it," Kirsten replies, thoughtfully.

Ryan nods, not meeting her gaze.

After getting the prescriptions, they start on the way back to the Cohen's house.

"My arm is broken. You were right," Ryan states quietly from the passenger seat.

"I wish I was wrong. What did you want to talk about with the prescriptions?" Kirsten asks, tentatively.

Ryan sighs. "She says I'm depressed. Clinically. I think she's wrong. She wants me to take antidepressants."

"You don't want to, though."

"I have a family history of substance abuse and chemical dependency. Yeah, I'm a little down right now, but really…I've had a rough couple of weeks. I don't have a pattern of depression that should signify a problem," Ryan replies.

"Okay. I'll talk to Sandy about it, but I see your point. Are you okay with all this, Ryan?" Kirsten asks, calmly.

"I'm getting there," Ryan replies, quietly. "It's just been a hard couple of weeks. I don't think happy drugs will make it any better."

"Okay, Ryan, that's understandable. I agree with you."

Ryan is silent. He glances at her, his eyes sad. "My uncle, my dad's brother, he went a little nuts once and they prescribed Xanax for him. He was great for a while, working and playing with his kids. Of course, he got used to them and leveled out again after a while. Then he decided that he liked them so much that he would take the whole bottle. I think I'll let my brain balance it's own chemicals if that's okay."

"I'm sorry, Ryan, I had no idea…" Kirsten says, paling.

"No, I'm sorry, Mrs. Cohen, I shouldn't have said anything…" Ryan apologizes, seeing her shocked expression.

"Don't apologize, Ryan. I don't know anything about you or your history. I'm glad you thought you could tell me," Kirsten replies, recovering.

Ryan doesn't meet her eyes.

"Ryan?"

"Dr. Gregson recommends that I go to therapy," Ryan whispers.

"Why?" Kirsten asks, trying to keep Ryan talking to her.

"It seems she thinks I was abused. She saw some old scars and found some healed fractures on the x-rays and says that if I don't deal with my abusive past that I'll be damaged in the future," Ryan sighs.

"Well? What do you think, Ryan?"

"What do I think?" He asks.

"I mean, you're very intelligent, you just proved that when you were explaining about why you didn't want to take the anti-depressants. You must have an opinion. What do you think about therapy?"

"I'm not a victim, Mrs. Cohen. If I'm a victim of anything, its circumstance," Ryan mutters.

"But you do understand that you're only sixteen years old. You're a kid, Ryan and the people…the people that might have hurt you in the past, they were adults. You do see that there's something not right about that, don't you?"

"Things were different…" Ryan starts.

"Ryan, somebody broke your arm. Can you look me in the eyes and tell me that you deserved it? I might not know your history but I think I've got a pretty good idea of what kind of person you are. You don't deserve that, Ryan," Kirsten interrupts.

"I know. It's just…I'm used to it," Ryan responds. He glances at her, his face flushed. "I'm a fast learner. I stay out of trouble and I don't get hurt. That's the rules I learned at my house. I know it…I know my family life is fucked…I mean, messed up, but I'm still here. The way I look at it, I can either model my actions after the people that brought me up, or I can learn from their mistakes and know what's right and wrong."

"But you have thought about it, haven't you, Ryan?" Kirsten asks, quietly as she parks her car in the driveway.

"Yeah. I've thought about it. I know it's not right. Not normal. I'm used to that, too," Ryan replies.

"Well, I'm sure Seth's waiting for you inside. Are you hungry?" Kirsten asks as they step out of the car.

"I'll eat something," Ryan replies.

"Okay. Everything's going to work out, Ryan. Our family's not normal, by any means, but I hope that we can make a home for you here."

"Thanks, Mrs. Cohen."

Seth and Ryan make themselves some snacks and end up in the pool house.

"Marissa called again," Seth mentions as he tosses his discarded food in the garbage.

"Okay. Should I call her?" Ryan asks.

"She said she was going out with Luke and would call you later."

Ryan nods.

"Ryan?"

"Yeah?"

"What did the doctor say?" Seth asks, quietly.

"My arm's broken. I've got some bruised ribs. I need to eat. Nothing life-changing," Ryan answers.

"Good. I'm glad…I mean, not that your arm is broken…" Seth starts.

"I know. Thanks. I'm going to lie down a while. Dr. Gregson gave me these pills for pain and they're making me tired," Ryan yawns.

"You mind if…" Seth starts.

"Stay, hang out. I don't mind. I guess…wake me up for dinner," Ryan replies. He lies down.

Ryan wakes up for dinner but returns to bed immediately afterwards, still exhausted.

The next morning, Seth goes to the pool house to check on Ryan. There is no answer so Seth steps inside.

"Ryan?"

He hears something and walks over to the bed. Ryan is lying on the edge of the bed with his head and arm hanging off. He looks awful and Seth gasps. His skin is pale and he is shivering. He has pulled up a pail but it's empty.

"Ryan?" Seth gasps.

"Hey," Ryan answers, weakly.

"Ryan…you look like hell."

"Yeah." Ryan's eyes are glazed and glassy. They are rolled back slightly. "I think I'm allergic to the medicine…" Ryan slurs.

"I'll get Mom…"

"No…I'm better now…" Ryan says weakly.

"Ryan, you…I'm getting Mom." Seth disappears, shaken by Ryan's appearance.

"Seth, what is it?" Sandy asks, in the kitchen with Kirsten.

"Ryan…he's sick, he looks awful…" Seth stutters.

"What?" Sandy asks, but Kirsten is already at the door.

"He's sick, he thinks it's the meds…"

Ryan is still in bed when they arrive, too weak to stand. He was sick all night, vomiting and straining his wounded ribs. He had lapsed into unconsciousness but the overwhelming nausea had woken him every time.

"Ryan, my god…" Kirsten gasps.

"I'm better now, Mrs. Cohen…the medicine…" Ryan's slur startles them all.

"Honey, you should have woken us up…" Kirsten says. Sandy is on the phone.

"I was…I couldn't…" He sighs heavily, a shudder shaking him.

"Ryan. When did you take the medicine last?" Sandy asks.

"Yesterday. Last night after dinner…" Ryan answers.

Kirsten brings him a glass of water. "Sit up, Ryan. Drink this…"

"I can't keep anything down, Mrs. Cohen, I know I'm dehydrated," Ryan says, his words still slurred.

"Ryan? You took the correct dosage, didn't you?" Mr. Cohen asks.

"Yes, sir. I think it was the anti-inflammatory stuff…I've had antacid and Vicodin before…" Ryan mutters.

"Seth. Go up to the house and get Maria to make up some soup and tea…"

"Mrs. Cohen," Ryan protests.

"You have to eat something…have you been sick a lot?" Sandy asks.

"All night…I can't shake it…I haven't taken anything since yesterday…" Ryan sighs. "Is there any way I can keep away from the hospital?"

Kirsten puts a hand against his pale forehead. "Ryan…"

"They'll just give me more medicine and make me sicker…I'd be alright if I hadn't taken the medicine…" He shudders again. A wave of pain washes over his face as he moves his arm to cover his head.

"The doctor says we should take him off the prescriptions and see if he gets better. What did you eat yesterday, Ryan?" Sandy asks, hanging up the phone.

"Uh…I had the soup yesterday and dinner last night…" Ryan starts.

"You took like, one bite," Sandy says.

"Ryan. You haven't taken any more so you should start feeling better. If you don't want to go back to the hospital…"

"My ribs will heal. No more drugs, please…" Ryan murmurs.

"Sandy, I think he needs a hospital," Kirsten says. She glances at Ryan when he doesn't protest.

"I was speaking with his doctor, Kirsten. He said that it's probably an allergy to the medication but that if he made it through the night to let him…he needs rest, Kirsten," Sandy sighs. "Doctor Gregson said that he's probably dehydrated and to try and get him to drink liquids…"

"I can't keep anything down," Ryan mutters.

"Ryan, you have to try…" Sandy says.

"No hospital?"

"Not yet…" Kirsten replies.

"Then I'll do whatever you want…" Ryan concedes.

"Really?" Sandy asks, surprised. Ryan doesn't answer. He has passed out.

"He'll be fine, Kirsten," Sandy says, quietly. "He's a tough kid."

Seth returns with soup and various remedies from the housekeeper. Kirsten shakes Ryan gently to try and rouse him, but he is too exhausted. Sandy convinces her to let him sleep. Seth sets up his game system and sits patiently in the pool house keeping watch.