Title: Hello, Ryan
Chapter: 6
Author: Antigone11
Rating: PG-13 (language and violence)
Summary: Ryan gets an unwelcome visit from his father
Chapter 6
Headlights swept the highway, briefly illuminating shrubs, the occasional tree, and trash that dotted the side of the road. Three passengers stared intently from different windows as the Range Rover drove south. In the backseat, Seth used a flashlight to highlight the map of San Diego County spread out on his knees.
"Okay. We're all agreed that they probably didn't drop Ryan off until they were reasonably close to the border, and they would have dropped him in an uninhabited area so he couldn't call anyone, right? So, once we get past San Diego, maybe we should turn off the highway. Try some of these smaller roads. Sound good?" Seth reached over the front seat and handed the map to Kirsten, tapping the area he was talking about.
Kirsten stared at the small squiggly lines. "You know I'm hopeless with maps. Sandy, why don't I drive? You and Seth can plan our route."
"No," Sandy said shortly. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
"Sandy, you can't keep punishing yourself. We both agreed to contact the FBI. There's no reason to believe they knew we called the police."
"I know that, "Sandy said impatiently, never taking his eyes off the black ribbon stretching before him.
"Well then, why won't you let me drive?"
"I know I'm being irrational, Kirsten. But I can't help it." Sandy shrugged, casting a quick glance over at Kirsten before returning his eyes to the road. "I just feel…like somehow I can make this damn car find Ryan. It's stupid. It's borderline insane. But that's the way I feel."
"Okay." Kirsten patted his arm gently. "Seth, you get us to the general area, and we'll just follow our instincts from there."
A maroon sedan sped north. Sam tried to keep his focus on the road, but the weak murmurs coming from the teenaged boy beside him were very distracting.
"No. Don't. Leave them alone."
The word 'them' caught Sam's attention.
"Was there someone else back there? Someone else hurt?" he questioned. Maybe he should pull off and see if his cell phone would work now. Sam was convinced that this was not a simple hit and run. If there was another person, another kid, back there, the police should be notified as soon as possible.
The boy's head tossed restlessly. "Stop…stop…don't touch me…I'm sorry…."
Sam grew more disturbed by the minute. Resolutely, he pressed harder on the accelerator. He knew there was a hospital in the next town. All thoughts of pulling off the road to use his cell phone were abandoned. He needed to get this kid to a doctor. The police would have to wait a little while longer.
Sam heaved a sigh of relief when he spotted the bright lights of the hospital emergency entrance. Leaving the teenager buckled in his seat, Sam hurried up to the nurses' station.
"I found a kid by the side of the road. I thought at first it was a hit and run, but now…I don't know." Sam's anxious comments quickly got the attention of the admitting nurse.
"Where is the child now?" she asked crisply.
"He's not really a child…he's a teenager…in my car. Out front." Sam was relieved that his responsibility was almost at an end.
"Johnny, " the nurse called. "Get a gurney and take Amanda with you. Follow this gentleman out to his car. Possible hit and run victim." She turned back to Sam. "Sir, your name?"
"Sam Whitman."
"Mr. Whitman, please come back to this desk after we've brought in the boy. There's some paperwork that will need to be filled out."
Sam agreed, suddenly nervous. Surely they didn't think he had hurt the kid? As he led the two attendants away from the desk, he heard the nurse say into her headset, "Who's on call tonight? Officer Johansson? Send him over here, will you?"
Ryan was not happy when a bright light suddenly shone into his eyes.
"Can you hear me? What's your name, son?"
A groan was Ryan's only response.
Pain suddenly flared as hands reached across him to unbuckle his seatbelt and gently extricated him from the car. Vague words fluttered into his consciousness, "…keep…head straight…back board…Careful!"
Eventually, Ryan felt as if he was moving again. It was strange though, because he didn't think his feet were even on the ground. Odd chatter continued to float around him. Ryan protested weakly as movement came to a sudden stop. "No. Home." He tried to communicate with the shapes surrounding him but whatever they were, they weren't listening. "Home."
"One, two, three, lift!"
A small prick in the back of his hand and Ryan slipped into unconsciousness once more.
The theme from the Lone Ranger suddenly rang out, startling the occupants of the Range Rover.
"Sandy! Your phone!" Kirsten exclaimed.
Sandy pulled over to the side of the road and stopped so sharply that Seth and Kirsten were both thrown against their seatbelts.
"Hello?" Sandy's voice was strained.
"Sandy, this is Mickey. A boy matching Ryan's description was brought in to Western Memorial Hospital in Chule Vista around 60 minutes ago."
"Is it Ryan?"
"There's no ID and he's not lucid, so…"
"Not lucid? What does that mean?" Sandy interrupted. He tried to ignore Kirsten's and Seth's gasps as he waited for Mickey's response.
"From what I understand, he's been pretty much unconscious since he was found. And when he is awake, he's not really answering questions. I can't promise anything Sandy, but the description sounds like Ryan. Where are you? I'll give you directions."
Trying to speak over the lump that suddenly took up residence in his throat, Sandy told Mickey where they were. He jotted down directions to the hospital on the back of the map they had been using.
"Is he badly hurt? This boy they found?" Sandy asked cautiously.
"Sandy!" Kirsten couldn't restrain herself any longer.
"Sshh! I'm trying to hear," Sandy hissed.
The hesitation before Mickey's answer filled Sandy with dread.
"I don't really have a lot of details, Sandy. Just that the kid was found by the side of the road by a motorist and brought to the hospital. The area and the victim's description fit Ryan's case, so the local sheriff's office contacted me. That's pretty much all I know. I'm sorry."
"Okay, Mickey. Thanks for the call. We'll be on our way."
"Let me know if it's him, will you Sandy? Give me a call as soon as you know."
"I will. Thanks again." Sandy bowed his head and stared at the phone in his hand for a moment.
"Dad, if you don't tell us within the next 30 nanoseconds exactly what's going on, I will not be held responsible for my actions!" Seth pounded on his father's headrest for emphasis.
Sandy slowly lifted his head and gazed at his wife and son. Seth was hanging so far over the front seat that he was practically in Kirsten's lap.
"It's him. I know it in my heart. They've found Ryan."
The drive to the hospital was made in silence. Minds whirled with possibilities that no one dared speak aloud. What if it wasn't Ryan and they were abandoning their search while he remained out there, hurt and alone? What if it was Ryan and he was badly injured, maybe dying? Kirsten's mind contributed yet another scenario: what if Ryan felt so guilty about his father's actions that he wouldn't come home with them? Anxiety and fear piled up in enormous mounds by the time the Range Rover finally made it to the hospital's parking lot.
Seth tumbled out of the car the second it stopped moving. Racing into the emergency entrance, he was breathless by the time he reached the admitting desk. Panting heavily, he stared at the nurse behind the counter, unable to do more than stammer.
"We're here…for…Ryan…At…Atwood."
Used to distraught family members after years in the emergency room, even Lisa Chambers was taken aback by this red-faced, panting boy hopping up and down before her. After a silent moment, her professionalism took over.
"What was the name?"
"Ryan Atwood. But he was brought in without ID, so he might be listed as a 'John Doe'." Sandy took over for his breathless son, Kirsten close behind.
"Ah. Are you here for the teenaged boy that was brought in?" At their affirmative nod, Lisa continued. "Please have a seat. I'll have Officer Johansson come speak with you as soon as possible. Then one of you can come back and make a positive identification. All right?" She smiled reassuringly. Being kind and understanding, yet firm was the best way to deal with the variety of people she dealt with everyday. It didn't work with this group.
"We aren't going anywhere until we've seen our son!" Sandy snarled.
"Get this Officer Johansson here immediately!" Kirsten was not about to be intimidated. "This is extremely urgent. If this boy isn't our son, we need to get out there and continue looking for him!"
Lisa fumbled for the phone, looking somewhat nervously at the group. Heavens, the man's eyebrows alone would scare half of the staff! "Julie, is Officer Johansson still with the John Doe? He is? Please have him come out right now. The boy's family is here." Her smile this time was not so confident. "He'll be right out."
The Cohens planted themselves in front of the admitting desk, determined to hold their ground until someone brought them to the patient they so desperately hoped was Ryan.
"Mr. Cohen?" A tall, handsome Hispanic man in a police uniform stepped through the security door and called out to them.
In unison, the three turned and trotted toward him.
"I've got to start working out," Seth muttered to himself, still breathing heavily. "This is ridiculous."
"I'm Sandy Cohen. This is my wife, Kirsten and our son, Seth. Where's Ryan?" Sandy spoke quickly, wanting to get the preliminaries over as soon as possible.
"I'm Officer Johansson. Could you describe the kid you're looking for, Mr. Cohen?" The boy had obviously been beaten and Carlos Johansson wasn't about to just turn him over to anyone who came in.
"He's 17, about 5'9", sandy colored hair, blue eyes," Sandy rattled off Ryan's statistics. He smiled sadly. "Independent, stubborn and prone to getting into situations beyond his control."
The police officer grinned at the description. "This kid is stubborn all right. He keeps trying to rip out his IV and get out of bed."
Kirsten stifled a sob as she pulled a picture from her purse. She held it out to the officer. "This is Ryan's school photo."
"Well, that looks like him. We still need a positive identification. I'll also need to verify your identity before I take you to see him."
Sandy pulled out his wallet and removed a stack of cards. "Here's my driver's license, American Express card, American Bar Association ID, Diner's Club…"
"Okay," Carlos said after studying the driver's license. "Only one of you is allowed. Mr. Cohen, will you be making the ID?"
After getting a slight nod from Kirsten, Sandy replied, "Yes, and please, call me Sandy."
"Sure, Sandy. Let's go back." Carlos ushered Sandy through the security door.
Kirsten and Seth both fought the urge to rush in after them.
Silently walking past curtained cubicles, Sandy prayed. "Please, God. Please let this be Ryan. And let him be okay." His silent litany stopped when Officer Johansson drew back a curtain and waved him inside. The lone occupant didn't stir as he entered. The soft, steady beep of a heart monitor was the only sound. The harsh, glaring light irritated Sandy's eyes, making them water.
Sandy choked back a sob at the sight of the still figure on the bed. The bed was inclined so the teenager was propped up. An oxygen mask covered most of his face. A variety of tubes and lines seemed to surround him. "It's him. It's Ryan. Who can tell me about his condition? How badly is he injured?"
Sandy didn't even realize his feet were moving but suddenly, he was beside the bed, gently brushing tousled bangs off of Ryan's forehead. His heart clenched. Ryan looked so vulnerable. So young.
Carlos looked carefully at Sandy Cohen, needing to reassure himself that this man was truly interested in the boy's welfare. The anguish in Sandy's eyes convinced him.
"Doctor Jacobs has been treating him. I'll ask him to come in." Carlos stepped out briefly to ask a passing attendant to find Doctor Jacobs. Stepping back in, he hesitated, not wanting to interrupt, but his curiosity was too strong.
"Can you tell me what happened? The guy who picked him up thought at first it was a hit and run, but it's obvious to me he's been beaten. I heard a little bit about a robbery when I phoned it in, but don't have any details."
Softly, so as not to disturb Ryan, Sandy said as little as possible. "Three men invaded our house. They took Ryan hostage so we wouldn't call the police until they got away. For some reason, they dumped him off. We've already given all the details to the police back in Newport." He didn't want to think about that anymore. Ryan was safe now. His entire family was safe. That's the only thing that was important. He'd think about his failure later.
"They died, right? There was a shoot…"
"Stop!" Sandy hissed. Ryan moaned softly and Sandy continued to softly stroke his hair, refusing to let the officer's ill-advised comments divert his attention.
"Sorry," Carlos said guiltily. "I wasn't thinking. I'll, um, I'll go get your wife and son. Tell them it's Ryan. Okay?"
"Sure. And see where Doctor Jacobs is, will you?"
"Doctor Jacobs is here." A round, cheerful man, about 5'6", bounced into the room, smiling up at Officer Johansson as he slunk out of the cubicle. "Are you the father of this young man?" he asked Sandy.
"Yes. Well, his foster father, I guess. I'm Sandy Cohen." Sandy was somewhat taken aback by Doctor Jacobs' hearty handshake.
"And what's his name? I hate calling my patients 'John Doe.' Damn dehumanizing, I always think."
"Ryan. Ryan Atwood." Sandy was a little bewildered by the dynamo in charge of Ryan's care.
"Ryan, huh? I thought he looked more like a 'Clark,' but maybe that's just me!" As he spoke, the doctor quickly checked Ryan's chart and the output from his heart monitor.
Seth tried to stifle his laugh, resulting in a "snerk" sound. He and Kirsten had hurried to Ryan's cube as soon as the officer let them back. Doctor Jacobs multi-tasked, sending a grin Seth's way as he checked Ryan's pulse.
"And who might you be?"
"Seth. Ryan's brother."
"Well, come on in then. Stop blocking the hallway. Nurses have important things to do out there you know!"
Somehow, the doctor's jovial mood was infectious. Seth grinned back at him, feeling better than he had for hours.
Kirsten slipped into the room, going to Sandy's side and put her hand into his, squeezing gently. She bit her lip as she gazed down at Ryan. Extending her other hand, she trailed her fingers down the bruise on Ryan's cheek. "How are you, sweetie?" she said quietly. She got no response. She looked intently at the doctor. "How is he?"
"Mrs. Cohen, I presume? Let me ask Julie to step in here to check over Ryan and we'll go to my office for an update. Do you want your son to wait here? Or come with us?"
"I'm staying with Ryan." No matter how badly Seth wanted to know exactly what was wrong with his brother, he wasn't going to let Ryan out of his sight.
"All righty. Julie, make sure Seth doesn't press any buttons he's not supposed to. We'll be back shortly."
Seth took his parents' place at Ryan's bedside. Still overwhelmed with relief, Seth refused to let Ryan's unnatural stillness dampen his newly revived spirits. Nevertheless, he spoke quietly. "Come on buddy. It's me, Seth. Open your eyes. No? Fine, that just leaves more 'Me' time. Did I tell you what Summer said in Biology today?"
Julie couldn't help but smile as Seth chattered away to his silent brother.
Doctor Jacobs ushered Sandy and Kirsten into a small office down the hall. His cheerful mood abated slightly as he spoke.
"First of all. What do you know about Ryan's injuries? Are you aware at all of what happened to him?"
When Sandy didn't speak, Kirsten stepped into the void. "We were there, doctor. We saw most of it. At least, we saw what happened at our house. What happened after they took him away.…" She couldn't continue.
"I know this must be difficult, but knowing how the injuries occurred can help."
"What exactly do you need to know?" Sandy broke in harshly. "That he was beaten? Kicked repeatedly? While I sat there and did nothing? Then let them drag him away to do God knows what else to him?"
"Sandy!" Kirsten exclaimed.
"Mr. Cohen." Doctor Jacobs face was serious. "In my wildest dreams, I was not intending to accuse you of voluntarily allowing Ryan to be harmed. I wasn't there. I have no idea what you've gone through. What your family has gone through. And frankly, at this moment, I don't really have time for this. My concern is for my patient. So stop feeling sorry for yourself and let me help your son." He drew a deep breath. "The kicking explains the ribs and the damage to the thoracic cavity. Those are the most serious injuries."
"What about the blood? Ryan was coughing up blood." During the prior exchange, Kirsten had steeled herself. Locking her emotions away as best she could, she was determined to be strong.
Sandy kicked himself internally. He had had no intent of letting his feelings of inadequacy burst out into the cold light of the emergency room. It wouldn't happen again. He turned his attention to the doctor.
"In light of everything, your son's injuries really aren't too severe. Various contusions and small lacerations; nothing bad enough to require stitches. As I mentioned, the trauma to the chest is what I'm most concerned about. In addition to two cracked ribs on the left side, Ryan suffered what's known as hemothorax by laceration of internal vessels. Basically, the damage resulted in blood collecting in the pleural space in Ryan's chest. It causes difficulty in respiration and can lead to hypotension. The blood loss in Ryan's case isn't acute. We've inserted a chest tube to drain the fluid, he's receiving oxygen to assist his breathing, and we're monitoring his blood pressure and cardiac performance very closely." Doctor Jacobs smiled gently at the obviously shell-shocked couple. "It's a lot to take in, I know. Do you have any questions?"
"You're draining blood from Ryan's chest?" Kirsten looked sick at the thought.
"Yes, Mrs. Cohen. The X-rays and CT scans have shown improvement and Ryan's stable. The chest tube seems to be doing its job."
"What are the risks? The complications?"
"Any trauma of this nature is obviously serious. Collapsed lung or hemorrhagic shock are the most serious risks. There's also risk of infection with the chest tube. But, honestly, Ryan is looking good. We've had a consult with a pediatric thoracic surgeon, and she agrees. Unless something unexpected happens, Ryan should recover fully, without any long term effects."
Sandy and Kirsten didn't look convinced.
"It sounds worse than it is, believe me. We'll get him moved to the Pediatric Cardiac ward and monitor his condition for the next few days. Once the blood collection resolves and the collected fluid is fully evacuated, we'll remove the chest tube and he should be able to go home on…let's see, what day is it? Thursday? No, not anymore. 2am. Now it's Friday!" Doctor Jacobs positively beamed in triumph once he'd figured out what day it was.
Sandy and Kirsten looked at each other in disbelief. Had it truly only been nine hours since Dave Atwood had burst into their house? It didn't seem possible.
"Ryan should be able to go home Sunday or thereabout. Doctor Rodriguez will be taking over his case once he leaves the emergency room. Juanita's terrific. Ryan will be in excellent hands. Well. I'm sure you'll have more questions after you've had a chance to take it all in. Don't hesitate to ask for me if something comes up. I'm on duty through dawn." The doctor turned serious once again. "In this type of situation, obviously there will be emotional trauma as well as physical. You might want to consider therapy for Ryan, for all of you, really. I can make some recommendations?"
"Thank you, Doctor." Sandy had regained his composure. "We haven't really had time to think about anything yet. But you're right, this has certainly been traumatic for the whole family. We know some excellent therapists back in Newport. We'll figure out what's best for Ryan…for everyone." He squeezed Kirsten's hand. "I think we'd like to get back to Ryan now."
"Of course. Of course. Let's make sure young master Seth hasn't accidentally unplugged the EKG." Doctor Jacobs sprang from his chair and hurried out of the room. Somewhat bemused, the Cohens followed him back to Ryan's room.
"…and then she said, 'Stuff it Cohen. I could dissect this shark with my eyes closed.' Can you imagine Summer armed with a scalpel? She'd make Wolverine feel inadequate!"
"X-Men fan?"
Seth jumped at Doctor Jacobs' comment. He smiled sheepishly. "Just trying to keep Ryan company. As you may have noticed, he's not mister talkative. I usually have to more than hold up my end of the conversation."
"We've got him sedated, Seth. He wasn't really happy to be trapped in a hospital. Chest tubes and IV's don't seem to be his cup of tea, somehow. You know, I think he's going to be a lot happier when he wakes up this time." The doctor took one more quick look at Ryan's chart. "Someone from Pediatric Cardiology should be down shortly to bring Ryan to his room. In the meantime, I'm afraid someone has a lot of paperwork to fill out for our former John Doe. We'd like information on Ryan's medical history, allergies, etcetera, as soon as possible."
Sandy nodded glumly. Kirsten was holding firmly onto Ryan's hand and didn't look like she'd be willing to let go. "I guess that would be me. I'll go back to the front desk and handle this. Give Mickey a call, too. Be back soon."
Sandy heard Seth start in on Kirsten as he left.
"Okay, Mom. Let me have it. I want to know everything."
Sandy checked in with the desk and groaned at the sheaf of papers he was given. Clasping the clipboard to his chest, he prepared to settle down in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs. He spotted Officer Johansson across the room and decided to speak with him. Filling out Ryan's social security number could wait.
"Officer? I don't mean to interrupt…" Sandy barely spared a glance for the man Johansson was with.
"It's okay, Sandy. In fact, I'd like to introduce you two. Sandy, this is Sam Whitman. He's the good Samaritan who found Ryan and brought him in."
That got Sandy's attention.
"Sam, this is Sandy Cohen. Ryan's foster father."
"My god!" Sandy stared in shock. "Thank you, thank you! I can't tell you how grateful we are. Where did you find him? How did you find him? I don't know how we'll ever repay you!" By this time, Sandy was pumping Sam Whitman's hand.
Sam seemed embarrassed by the attention. "It was nothing, honestly. Anyone would have done the same. I…I just wanted to make sure the boy was all right before I headed home."
"I'm not so sure about that, Mr. Whitman. I can think of a lot of people who wouldn't have done what you did." Sandy's face darkened.
"Um, " Sam's gaze shifted nervously between Officer Johansson and Sandy Cohen. "So. Is Ryan, that's his name, right? Ryan? Is he going to be okay?"
Sandy shook off his anger at Dave Atwood and tried to give Sam a reassuring smile. "Ryan should be fine. He's got a couple of rough days ahead of him, but he should be just fine."
"I'd like to keep in touch, if that's okay? I know it sounds weird, I mean, really, I only saw him for 30 minutes or so, but…I feel kind of connected, you know? Responsible." Sam stammered over his request. He didn't want to come across as some sort of pervert or anything, but he did feel a connection to the mysterious boy he'd picked up. He'd spent thirty of the most intense minutes of his life caring for Ryan Atwood and was reluctant to just walk way. "Maybe my wife and I could see him? Once he's up to receiving visitors, obviously."
Sandy was unsure. He was naturally inclined to believe the best of everyone, but the evening's events had made him suspicious. After his initial flush of excitement at meeting the man who had rescued Ryan, he felt wary. For all he knew, Sam Whitman was an accomplice of Dave Atwood's who had brought Ryan to the hospital when he found out the police were closing in.
He turned to Officer Johansson, who gave him a reassuring nod.
"Sam sells veterinary supplies, Sandy. He was headed home to San Diego when he found Ryan."
Sam was confused. Why were they talking about his job?
"Oh. Well, why don't you give me your number, Mr. Whitman. We'll call you when Ryan is feeling better. However, we'll be bringing him home to Newport Beach, so I don't know how convenient that'll be for you and your wife."
"Call me Sam, please. You're from Newport? How on earth did Ryan end all the way down here?"
Sandy exchanged another glance with Carlos Johansson. Home invasion in upper class Newport Beach ending up with a humble Good Samaritan rescuing the badly injured foster son who just happened to be the real life son of the escaped convict who carried out the home invasion? This was a front page nightmare just waiting to happen. They'd be lucky to avoid Jerry Springer. For Ryan's sake, Sandy wanted as few details in the public domain as humanly possible.
"Ryan got beat up by someone he used to know and they dumped him down here. We're just grateful you found him and eager to get him home as soon as possible. He means a lot to my family, Sam." Sandy reached out to shake his hand again, a little less vigorously, searching for signs in Sam's eyes that he knew more than he was letting on. The compassion he found there made him feel somewhat guilty for his evasiveness. After all, this man, in all probability, had saved Ryan's life.
"He certainly seems to feel the same way about you. All he kept talking about was going home." Sam dropped his eyes, certain he wasn't getting the entire story, but he was content. The details didn't matter. He'd saved a life today. And from the strong emotions radiating from Sandy Cohen, his instinct about the young man he'd found was correct. "I should be getting home myself. Loretta will be worried about me."
Sandy clapped Sam on the back in farewell. He turned back to Officer Carlos Johansson, eyeing the obviously Hispanic man.
"Officer Johansson? Do you mind my asking…?"
"Swedish grandfather. Don't worry, I get asked that all the time."