Title:  Hello, Ryan

Chapter: 7

Author:  Antigone11

Rating:  PG-13 (language and violence)

Summary:  Ryan gets an unwelcome visit from his father

Many, many thanks to my betas, Julie, Anna, and Lisa.  They all had wonderful suggestions and comments and any problems that remain in the story are solely my responsibility.  Thanks also to the TWoP community who supported and needled me relentlessly until I finally finished.

Chapter 7

Ryan's head hurt.  So did his chest.  And his back.  Pretty much everything hurt, if he really thought about it.  So he didn't.  He lay quietly, floating in the cool darkness.  Somehow, he knew that if he opened his eyes, he'd be opening the lid to Pandora's Box.  Plague, pestilence, sorrow.  A host of horrible things would fly out and contaminate his world.  If he just kept his eyes shut, everything could remain inside.

"Ryan?  Open your eyes, Ryan."  A soft voice penetrated his sanctuary.  Didn't they understand about the box?

"You're safe, now.  Please, Ryan, open your eyes."  The voice wouldn't leave him alone.  It wasn't an unpleasant voice.  Melodious, even.  Although there was an undercurrent of something Ryan couldn't quite identify.  Fear?  Anxiety?  Those emotions didn't make sense.  Why would anyone be anxious about him?  Curiosity was successful where pleading was not.  Ryan opened his eyes and blinked, trying to focus. 

And Pandora's Box opened.

A harsh, piercing light shone in his eyes.  Pain screamed along every nerve ending.  His chest was enflamed.  And worse than all of his physical problems – guilt.  Kirsten was there.

His memories came roaring out of the box along with everything else.  His father, the robbery; he remembered it all.  Hope.  Where was hope?  Wasn't hope supposed to be left in the box?  He squeezed his eyes shut, but he was too late.  Hope was gone.  All Ryan had left was guilt.  Blearily, he opened his eyes again.

She smiled at him; bright, unshed tears in her eyes.  Relief washed over her.

"How're you feeling, sweetie?  Seth and Sandy are down in the cafeteria having lunch.  They'll be upset that they missed you.  Do you think you can stay awake long enough to see them?"  Kirsten knew she was rambling, but the shuttered look on Ryan's face was scaring her.  He had yet to speak.

"Ryan?  I'll call the nurse, OK?  You're safe now."  She pushed at the call button haphazardly, unwilling to tear her gaze from Ryan's face.  "Do you understand me?"

Kirsten looked up in relief as the nurse came into Ryan's room.  She backed away, letting the nurse fuss over her patient.  Hearing Ryan's murmured responses to the nurse reassured her that he was able to talk, even if he didn't want to talk to her.  At one point, Ryan's eyes met hers, and his panicked look at the inadvertent contact was clear before he slid his eyes away.

"Mrs. Cohen?"

Kirsten was startled.  She'd been so busy trying to figure out what was wrong with Ryan that she'd completely forgotten the nurse.

"I need to check Ryan over.  Can you wait outside for a few minutes?"

Nodding sadly, Kirsten backed out of the room.

Sandy and Seth found her in the hallway outside Ryan's room about twenty minutes later.

"Is something wrong?  Why are you out here?" Sandy asked.

"Ryan's awake.  The nurse asked me to step out."  Kirsten tried her best to sound happy about that.

"He's awake?  How is he?  Did he say anything?"  Seth was so focused on Ryan that any nuances in Kirsten's voice flew right over his head.

"What's wrong, Kirsten."  It was a demand, more than a question.

Kirsten furrowed her brow, trying to define her feelings before responding to Sandy.  "I don't know, exactly.  It's just…he wouldn't meet my eyes.  And he wouldn't talk to me."

"He's got to be exhausted Kirsten, physically and emotionally.  I'm sure it doesn't mean anything."

Seth agreed.  "Yeah.  If Ryan not talking was an ominous sign, the end of the world would have happened months ago."

"I hope so."  Kirsten wasn't convinced.

"Mrs. Cohen?  You can come back in now, but I'm afraid Ryan's sleeping again.  All my poking and prodding must have worn him out.  Try not to disturb him, okay?  He needs to rest."  The nurse smiled as she exited the room.

Quietly, the Cohen's entered.  The nurse had turned the lights low, so Ryan lay in shadow.  He was still propped up to lessen the pressure on his ribs and ease his breathing.  A nasal canula had replaced the oxygen mask, so more of his face was visible.  Bruising marred his left cheekbone and jaw line, brutal evidence of Dave Atwood's unfitness as a parent.  A clear plastic tube snaked out from under the thin blanket, stained dark with the fluid draining from Ryan's chest.  Various IV bags hung over his bed and a soft, steady beeping emanated from the heart monitor.

"You heard the nurse, Kirsten.  Ryan probably won't be waking up anytime soon.  Why don't you and Seth go get a room at the Hyatt and relax for a few hours.  I'll stay with Ryan."

Kirsten hesitated, torn between her desire to be with Ryan and a bone-numbing weariness.  She nodded, suddenly too tired to speak.

"Seth, maybe you better drive," Sandy said, tossing Seth the keys.  "I don't want to see either of you back here until after dinner."

Seth threw an anxious glance at Ryan before turning and following his mother down the hall.

Sandy settled into a chair next to Ryan's bed, shadows from the dimmed overhead lights increasing the severity of the lines of exhaustion creasing his face.  "What are we going to do with you, kiddo," he mused.  "You can't hide from us forever."

However, between his prescribed medications and his body's need for rest, Ryan managed to sleep through the remainder of the afternoon and into the evening.  Kirsten and Seth had managed a quick shopping trip before returning to the hospital, so the family was now prepared to remain in Chule Vista until Ryan was ready to travel.  After much protest, Seth and Sandy were convinced to return to their hotel for the night.  Due to Ryan's age, a parent was allowed to remain in his room after normal visiting hours.  Kirsten promised to call them immediately if anything about Ryan's condition changed.

Around midnight, Kirsten finally admitted that Ryan wasn't going to wake up anytime soon and unfolded the hospital issued chair into something resembling a bed.  "I think the mail truck I slept in in college was more comfortable than this," she grumbled to herself.  Soothed by the regular beeping sound coming from Ryan's heart monitor, Kirsten fell into a light sleep.

Disoriented, Kirsten's heart hammered in her chest.  Where was she?  Gasping, she sat straight up, a light polyester blanket clenched in her fists.  Once her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, Kirsten's fractured mind began to fit the pieces of the last few days together.  Hospital.  Ryan.  Dave Atwood.  Damn.

The lights were abruptly too bright as a nurse bustled in and began fussing over Ryan.  The pace of the sounds coming from Ryan's heart monitor had changed, Kirsten realized.

"Is he waking up?" she asked, blinking rapidly and trying to form a coherent thought.

"I think so, dear."  The nurse smiled over at Kirsten.  Emily was glad the boy's mother had decided to stay with him.  During her years at Western Memorial, she'd seen too many children left alone in the dark, unfamiliar world of a hospital at night.  Just because the patient was a teenager didn't mean he wouldn't feel scared waking up alone.  "He probably won't be awake very long, though.  The doctors will keep him lightly sedated as long as his chest tube is still in."

Emily turned her attention to her patient.  "Hey," she said softly.  "Danielle told me about your beautiful blue eyes.  You gonna let me see them?"

Kirsten grinned.  Danielle had been Ryan's nurse earlier in the day.  If Ryan hadn't been so out of it, Kirsten was sure he would have blushed furiously at all the compliments from the nursing staff.  She couldn't suppress a soft groan as she lurched out of the contraption she'd been sleeping in.  Grimacing, she rolled her shoulders and cricked her neck before stepping next to Ryan's bed.

"Please wake up, Ryan," Kirsten pleaded.

Ryan's face contorted, as if suddenly realizing he was in pain.  He gasped and opened his eyes.  Panicked, Ryan's eyes snapped between Emily, Kirsten and the infernal, omnipresent, beeping machines.

"It's OK, Ryan."  Emily could sense the difficulty Kirsten was having, so she stepped into the void.  "You're in the hospital.  Do you remember?"

Ryan fixed his gaze on Emily, grateful for a non-threatening object to look at.  The blond woman beside his bed made him feel uneasy, though through the fog in his mind, he couldn't remember why.  And the IV's and other hospital paraphernalia made his skin crawl.  He was attached to them at points all over his body.  It was like he was part machine.  Ryan shuddered at the thought.

"Your heart's beating a little fast, kiddo.  Want to slow it down for me?  Take deep breaths.  That's right."  Emily continued to soothe the frightened teenager.

Kirsten swallowed harshly; the lump in her throat made it painful.  "Ryan?"  Damn, that was too tentative.  She needed to be strong for him.  "Ryan.  Please look at me."

Slowly, Ryan complied with her request.  Blue eyes dulled by pain and fear nevertheless locked onto Kirsten's like a laser beam.

"You're safe now, Ryan.  Do you understand?  You're safe, I'm safe, Sandy and Seth are safe.  Everybody's safe.  It's over."

Feeling that Ryan was in good hands, Emily slipped silently from the room.

Unwanted tears welled up in Ryan's eyes as he absorbed Kirsten's words.  It was over.  Was it really?  Was that even possible?  He remembered why seeing Kirsten made him uneasy.  He remembered his betrayal, now.  How could what he had done ever be truly 'over'?

"I'm sorry," he breathed, his voice raspy from disuse.  "So sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Kirsten said firmly.  "Nothing.  You didn't do anything wrong, Ryan."

"My father…"  Ryan couldn't finish the thought.  Just thinking about his father made his head hurt even worse.  He could feel blood throbbing through the bruises on his face.  He raised a shaking hand and pressed it against his damaged cheek.  He felt pain.  Pain, he understood.

Kirsten was determined to get through to Ryan before he fell asleep, or worse, shut her out again.  She couldn't bear the haunted look in his eyes.  "You are not responsible for him.  You did everything you could to keep us safe.  We know that.  Please, Ryan.  Believe me.  If anyone should be sorry, it's us.  And I am.  I never should have let him take you away from us, but I…we…didn't know what to do."  Kirsten started to cry.  The image of a broken Ryan being hauled away from her was something she would re-live in nightmares for the rest of her life.

"We didn't know what to do," she repeated, breaking her gaze away from Ryan and rubbing dispiritedly at the tears coursing down her face.  Kirsten didn't like to cry.  She didn't like to give up control to her emotions, but the last few days had left her defenses weakened.

Ryan was dismayed by Kirsten's tears.  He was so tired, but he couldn't go back to sleep if Kirsten was upset.  He had to make it better.  Ryan removed his hand from his cheek.  Controlled by gravity, it dropped lifelessly to the bed.  He strained to lift his hand and grasped onto Kirsten like a lifeline.  His voice was soft, but clear.  "Don't.  It's not your fault.  You shouldn't have to know how to deal with someone like him.  Please, Kirsten."

Kirsten gripped Ryan's hand with equal force.  "He'll never hurt you again, Ryan."

"They caught him?"

Ryan's question struck Kirsten like a blow.  How could she have been so stupid?  Telling Ryan that his father was dead didn't seem like a good idea, but how could she lie to him?

"You don't have to worry about him.  He's been…taken care of.  He won't bother you again."

Ryan narrowed his eyes.  He knew Kirsten was hiding something, but he was just too tired to try and figure out what.  The Cohens probably had pull with the DA's office and his dad was probably going back to prison for a long, long time.  "I'm sorry, Kirsten.  I don't know how I can make up for this."

"Stop it!  I mean it!"  Kirsten's voice was sharp.

Startled, Ryan tried to drop Kirsten's hand.  She held tightly to him.

"You're part of our family now, Ryan," Kirsten had to concentrate in order to soften her voice.  "What he did…it has nothing to do with you.  With who you are or how you fit into our family.  When I saw the brooch…" 

Once again tears tracked down her face.  "I can't describe what that meant to me.  That you would put yourself in danger to save my mother's brooch for me...You shouldn't have done it.  It's just a piece of jewelry.  Nothing that they took mattered…except for you, Ryan.  It mattered that they took you away from me."

Kirsten's tone ranged from sadness to anger to despair as she talked to Ryan.  Her emotions were all jumbled up.  She was touched that Ryan saved her mother's brooch.  She knew Ryan had tried to keep a piece of her mother's memory alive for her.  But she was also angry.  If Dave Atwood had seen Ryan hide the brooch, he would have been furious.  Why couldn't Ryan understand that he was worth more to her than a piece of jewelry?

"I love you, Ryan.  Sandy, Seth, and I…we all love you.  Do you believe me?"  Kirsten was desperate, now.  She couldn't shake the feeling that Ryan was at a crossroads.  If he continued straight ahead, he would agree to stay with the Cohens, dutifully going to school and conversing politely with them over the dinner table, never truly part of the family.  If he turned left, he would reject them altogether, giving up on school and any offers they would make to help him.  Only by turning right would Ryan trust that they actually wanted him, needed him, loved him, and make the emotional commitment to return that love.

Her question hung in the air.

"I'm so…tired.  Tomorrow…we can…talk…tomorrow."  Ryan's eyes slid shut and his hand went limp.

Shattered, Kirsten rested her head on her arms and wept soundlessly, still gripping Ryan's unresponsive hand.

The next few days were difficult for everyone.  From a physical standpoint, Ryan improved considerably.  The chest tube was removed, his ribs were bound up, which improved his breathing, and the bruises, although more dramatic in color, were less swollen.  On the other hand, Ryan was unusually uncommunicative, even for Ryan.

Kirsten gave Sandy a brief overview of the conversation she'd had with Ryan, but they decided not to push him.  He'd been through the wringer and they wanted to give him a chance to assimilate all of his emotions before trying to get him to talk about them.

The day Ryan was to be released from the hospital, Sandy took on the task of informing him of his father's death.  His doctor felt that Ryan was stable enough to hear the news, and it was increasingly awkward to deal with Ryan's questions about what had happened to his father and the other two escaped convicts.

Ryan actually cried.  Sandy was surprised.  He was certain Ryan would continue to hide behind a mask of indifference.  He carefully sat on the bed next to Ryan and put his arms around his surrogate son.

"It's okay, Ryan.  It's all over now."  Sandy continued to murmur reassuring nonsense to Ryan until his tears stopped.  Ryan regained his composure too quickly for Sandy's comfort, but he was relieved that at least Ryan had let go of some of his iron clad emotional control.

Kirsten and Seth waited anxiously in the hall for Sandy's signal that it was okay to enter the room.

"Hey," Seth said awkwardly.

"Hey."  Ryan replied, not making eye contact.

"So…you ready to come home?  The doctor said he'd release you into our excellent care after this morning's rounds.  You just have to promise not to bike, or skateboard, or move around too much…or stuff."  Seth ran out of steam.

Trying to lighten the atmosphere, Sandy teased, "Maybe Seth will let you win at ProSkater3 for once, seeing as how you're infirm."

"I don't need Seth to let me win anything!"  Ryan's instinctive flash of indignation turned quickly to shock.  God, he'd practically gotten them all killed and now he was jumping down Sandy's throat over nothing.  Worse, he was pissed off with Seth.  Ryan had beaten him plenty of times and Sandy's comment had touched a nerve.  To the Cohen's, Seth was always going to be the 'best', the 'brightest'.  Seth didn't need to brag to his parents about beating Ryan at a stupid game, especially when it wasn't even true!  "Breathe, Ryan, breathe." he silently encouraged himself, closing his eyes and forcing his body to calm down.  Damn emotions, popping up one right after another, with no chance to think.  He just needed a minute to figure out which emotion was appropriate, for God's sake!

Uncomfortable silence followed Ryan's short outburst.  Seth, naturally, tried to fill it.

"Dude!  ProSkater3 is old news!"

At Sandy's furrowed eyebrows, Seth continued.  "The student..ah…ah…somehow managed to overcome the master."  He gestured to himself.  "So, we've moved on to bigger and better things.  Wars of the Ancient World is our new battle ground."

Seth burbled happily about curses and pharaohs and Sphinxes come to life, distracting his parents while Ryan settled back against his pillows.  He was just so tired.  If he could get a little more rest, he'd be able to figure out what he was supposed to feel.

Nodding in all the right places, Sandy was only half-listening to Seth.  He knew his son was doing his best to cut the tension and let Ryan compose himself.  He shot a quick glance at Ryan.  Pale skin made the bruises stand out in stark relief.  Sandy gnawed on the inside of his lower lip.  Was Ryan ready to come home?  A small hand squeezed his.  Looking down at Kirsten, Sandy was reassured by her warm smile.

"It's time to bring him home, Sandy," she whispered.  "It's time to take our lives back."

Ryan was released at noon and the family loaded up the car and carefully drove north.  Back to Orange County.  By the time the black Range Rover pulled into the Cohen's driveway, Seth was chattering as if the entire ordeal had never happened, and Ryan was, once again, asleep.

Epilogue: 

Dave Atwood's funeral was a quiet affair.  The only attendees were Dawn, Ryan, and the Cohens.  Trey Atwood had recently participated in a riot at Chino State Prison, so was not eligible for a furlough.  A local priest presided. The plot was in a shady spot, in a small cemetery just outside of Fresno.  Dave's parents were buried nearby.

Kirsten had helped him plan the service.  It was easier for Ryan to work one on one with Kirsten.  She was quiet and gave him enough time to think through things before making his decisions.  Caskets.  Flowers.  Readings.  There were so many decisions to make.  In a way, Ryan was glad.  It helped him focus, helped him clear the fog that had been clouding his mind, helped him get some of his equilibrium back.  Sandy and Seth had managed to rein in their constant desire to advise him on all matters, great and small, and Ryan was grateful.

He'd been relieved when Kirsten discovered Dave had purchased a plot in a cemetery back in his hometown.  He knew Dawn wouldn't have enough money to buy anything and Ryan was afraid Dave would be buried in a prison cemetery.  Surrounded by souls as black as his own, his father would surely end up in Hell.

Now, he would be near his family.  Maybe in death Dave could find the peace he rejected in life.   Ryan had only vague memories of his Atwood grandparents.  Grandpa was kind of stern, but he'd never hit Ryan, so that made him okay in Ryan's book.  His grandmother had made him cookies once.  Chocolate chip.  They were his favorite.  He might have received a scarf from her one Christmas, too, but he wasn't sure about that.  Hopefully, they were strong enough to deal with his father, help him earn redemption in the afterlife.

Ryan wasn't sure exactly what he believed.  Somehow, the concept of Hell was stronger than that of Heaven.  He'd been baptized a Catholic, but the Atwood's were never regular church-goers.  The few times they had gone, he looked around at all the presumably happy families and felt resentful.  He enjoyed the music, though.  The majestic organ and choir lifted his spirit almost to the roof of the church.  It somehow made coming down to earth after the mass all the more painful.  Still, he wanted a Catholic funeral mass said over his father.  Deep inside, hope in forgiveness and redemption still flickered.

Ryan had scraped together what was left of his Crab Shack earnings to buy a wreath.  It said simply, "Farewell."  For one short moment, he'd considered asking how much "Good Riddance" would cost, but managed to catch himself before he blurted it out.  The funeral director didn't look like he had much of a sense of humor.  Dawn had contributed a small bouquet as well.  It wasn't much, a plain casket topped by a wreath and some flowers, but it was respectable.

Ryan started when he heard everyone around him say, "Amen."  Awkwardly, Ryan made the sign of the cross.

It was over.

Standing some feet behind Dawn and Ryan, Seth leaned over to his mother.

"Thanks," Seth said quietly.

"For what?"  Kirsten was startled.

"For buying this plot for he-who-shall-not-be-named."  Seth snorted when his mother tried to deny it.  "I know you did it for Ryan and I know Ryan will never find out about it, so I just wanted to tell you, 'Thanks.'  You guys did a really good thing here.  Having his father buried in a prison cemetery or some kind of pauper's grave would've haunted Ryan until he was working three jobs at once in order to get enough money to move his dad's grave all the while maintaining an A average to make you and Dad happy."

Kirsten stared at Seth.  He had grown up so much during the past week.  He wasn't her little boy anymore.  She glanced sadly at Ryan.  She didn't think he'd ever truly been a little boy.  Kirsten turned back to Seth and gently ruffled his hair.

"I love you."

"Hey!  Stop that!  My hair was workin' for me today," Seth whispered indignantly.  He smiled.  "Love you too."

Ryan shook the priest's hand and thanked him.  As the priest walked away, Ryan turned to Kirsten and raised his eyebrows, nervously biting his lower lip.  He wasn't sure what happened next.

Dawn tugged at Ryan's sleeve.

"Ryan, are you going to drive me home?" she said plaintively.  "Come to dinner.  You can stay over, can't you?"

Ryan looked helplessly at Kirsten.

"Dawn, Ryan has to go to physical therapy tomorrow.  Plus, he's missed a lot of school and needs to get caught up with his homework."  Kirsten tried to layer in as much subtext as she could, hoping Dawn would understand.  "Don't you think it would be good for Ryan to get back to his normal routine?"

"It's just dinner," Dawn snapped, swaying slightly.  She had a drink or two before the service, just to calm her nerves.  After all, she was still married to the son of a bitch.  And she had loved him, once.  A little something to calm her nerves, that was OK.  It wasn't like she was drinking again.  "Can't my own son come have dinner?"

"Mom."

Dawn turned red-rimmed eyes to her son.  Ryan sighed.  Nobody did 'wounded' and 'pathetic' like Dawn Atwood.

"I can't do this right now."  Ryan swept his hand helplessly around the cemetery.  "Not here.  I'll call you later, okay?"

"Ry?  You'll call me later?"  Tears ran down Dawn's face.  Whether fake or genuine, Ryan was too tired to tell.

"I'll call you," he promised.

Kirsten led Dawn back to the Range Rover, planning on calling a taxi to take the woman back to Chino.  She nervously cast glances back over her shoulder.  As much as she wanted to drop Dawn on the spot and hurry back to Ryan, Kirsten knew he needed time alone.

"Please, Ryan," Kirsten thought.  "Give yourself a break, just this once."

Ryan remained at the gravesite, eyes trained resolutely on the newly turned earth.  What was he supposed to do now?  One by one, over the past few days, the Cohens had approached him.  Their tactics ranged from a weird, roundabout conversation about Kavalier and Clay (Seth), gentle encouragements to talk (Kirsten) and a direct request to discuss the robbery and how he 'felt' about the whole thing.  Two guesses who took that approach.  He'd successfully deflected each and every attempt.  A whispered, "I'm sorry" was usually enough to bring the conversation to a complete and utter halt.

"Love means never having to say you're sorry."  What crap.  He remembered that afternoon so vividly, even though he was probably only six or seven at the time.  It was summer.  A Saturday.  It was so unfair that it was raining.  He was trapped in the house with nothing to do.  Trey was over at a friend's and his dad was out with his buddies.  Wandering into the living room, ready to whine to his mom about how bored he was, Ryan was stunned to hear her crying.  Dawn was lying on the old brown couch, eyes glued to the flickering blue light of the TV.  Still quietly sniffling, Dawn smiled at Ryan and held out her hand.  Ryan clambered up on the couch, curling into his mother's side.

"What're you watching?"

"It's called Love Story.  It's my favorite movie."  Dawn absentmindedly ran her hand through Ryan's sandy hair, curling a fine strand around her finger.

"How come?  It makes you cry."

"I know.  It's just a mushy chick flick."  Dawn looked fondly down at her small son.  "Nothing that the men in this family would approve of."

"What's it about?"

"Two people fall in love.  His family is rich and she's poor, so his father cuts him off from the family, leaves him with nothing.  But he doesn't care, because they're in love."

"That sounds dumb."

Dawn laughed.  "I know.  Anyway, Oliver, that's the man, he and Jenny get married and they make a new life together.  But, Jenny gets sick and Oliver has to get money from his father for her hospital bills."

"That's him?  That's Oliver?"  Ryan pointed to a sandy-haired young man on the TV, sitting pensively by the bedside of a beautiful young woman.

"It's where I got your name, you know.  Ryan.  After Ryan O'Neal, the actor who's playing Oliver."  Dawn was once again mesmerized by the images on the screen.  "He's so handsome.  And he loves her so much."

Together, mother and son watched Ryan O'Neal climb carefully into the hospital bed and hold Ali McGraw as she died a beautiful movie death, all soft lights and mournful music.  Dawn's tears flowed freely and she hugged her son.  "I love you, baby."

In spite of the rain, and Dawn's tears, Ryan remembered feeling safe, and warm, and happy that afternoon, so many years ago.

Ryan snorted.  At least his mom hadn't named him 'Oliver.'  Man, wouldn't that have been a kick in the head.  And that scene at the end of the movie between Oliver and his dad?  Where Oliver forgives his father?  He had bought it at the time, but now he wasn't so sure.  Wasn't it the dad's fault?  Not that Jenny died, but that he kicked his own son out of the family?  Oliver didn't even make him apologize; he just repeated that stupid line about love means never having to say you're sorry.  But that wasn't true.  Ryan spent his whole life telling people he loved that he was sorry.  And wishing they would tell him.  He didn't hear it very often.  Dawn would tell him she was sorry, sometimes.  After a bender.  But not always, even then.  And even when she said it, he knew she didn't really mean it.

Maybe he was looking at this the wrong way.  Maybe they meant that saying you're sorry didn't matter.  Maybe, if you loved someone, they knew when you were sorry, sorry enough that you would try your hardest never to disappoint them again.  Ryan snorted in derision.  "So, now that you've figured out the deep philosophy of Love Story, where does that leave you?" he whispered to himself.

Could he forgive his father?  Was his father worthy of forgiveness?  Well, his dad hadn't said he was sorry, so that was in his favor.  Ryan smirked.  Trying to think through the whole thing rationally wasn't working.  Dave Atwood had terrorized people that Ryan cared for, had stolen from them, and had beaten him, and didn't seem to experience any qualms whatsoever about any of it.  So, his actions were unforgivable.  But the man himself.  Could he be forgiven?  Ryan didn't care too much about the beating.  His father had let him go, in the end.  And he hadn't harmed the Cohens.  So maybe….No, he didn't think he was ready to forgive his father.  Maybe God could.

So, what about him?  Was he worthy?  He hadn't actually done anything wrong, had he?  The Cohens kept telling him that he hadn't done anything wrong.  Sandy had made the decision to bring him to his home, he didn't even really have responsibility for that.  He hadn't told his father where the Cohens lived, or how much money they had.  That was Dawn.  So why did he feel compelled to say "I'm sorry" over and over again?  Kirsten had said, in the hospital, that they all loved him.  Did he love them back?  Enough to let go of all the "I'm sorry's"?

As they waited for Ryan, Sandy shifted his feet nervously.  He glanced at Seth, who was standing quietly at his side.

"Seth?"

"Hmm?"  Seth replied, his gaze never leaving Ryan's bowed head.

"I want to talk to you about something Dave Atwood said…" Sandy's voice trailed off.  He was uncomfortable, but determined to discuss it before Ryan rejoined them and the opportunity was lost.

"You mean that garbage about him not being Ryan's father?"

"Yeah."  Sandy was surprised Seth was going to make this easy for him.  He expected Seth to be as uncomfortable about this as he was.

"Don't worry, Dad.  I don't plan on ever saying anything about that to Ryan.  It was crapola anyway.  He was just trying to get you riled up."  Seth grinned at his father.  "It worked, too.  You were spittin' nails!"

Sandy just stared at Seth, dumbfounded.

"Really, Dad.  Don't worry about it.  Dave Atwood was a liar."  Seth's expression darkened.  "I mean, remember him accusing Ryan of…of…you know, for you to want to bring him home?  Like you would use your authority to make someone…or that Ryan would ever…." Seth sputtered.  His arms started to move of their own free will.  Their wide, windmilling action caused Sandy to step back.

"God.  I'd kind of hoped you'd forgotten about that.  Ryan too."

"I can't forget it, and I can't forgive it either.  I know Ryan is trying to forgive his father, but I'm not going to.  Not ever.  I'm waitin' for Judgment Day, when God goes all Old Testament on his ass!"

Sandy couldn't help himself.  Laughter was entirely inappropriate under the circumstances, but it was unavoidable.  After seven days of unrelenting tension, his emotional control was nonexistent.  Seth was surprised by his father's reaction, but it was infectious and his peals of laughter soon joined Sandy's.

Ryan's head snapped up at the unexpected sound.  He looked up at Sandy and Seth, both doubled over and red-faced from laughing.  He cocked his head, slightly narrowing his eyes as he observed them.  Parent and child.  Loving and respecting each other.  Actually enjoying each other's company.  Maybe Kirsten was right.  Slowly, Ryan smiled.  Laughter.  It wasn't enough to completely erase the memories of the past few days.  But it was a start.

Ryan climbed the hill, ready to rejoin his family.

THE END