A/N - Again, I thank you for your continuing support. It's immensely appreciated. Chapter 3 is expressed from both Ryan and Kirsten's POV's respectively.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 3

Ryan - Kirsten

-The Rain-

The sharp assail of cold rain pelting down on my face slaps me back to consciousness. I lie still for a moment, trying to familiarize myself with my surroundings. I can feel my entire body emitting trembling convulsions, trying desperately to retain any last shred of warmth.

The rain continues to pour down, harder and harder, and with every new sheet of forceful precipitation, the cold seeps further into my skin - my body almost completely numb as a result.

I shudder deeply, closing my eyes against the violent downpour. The waves are crashing harder now, and the sound is no longer soothing, but angry - the ocean rebelling against the calms of nature. The noise alone is enough to force me back to shelter; I can't be around such unbridled brutality right now. I struggle to my feet, the wet sand sticking earnestly to my drenched clothing.

Walking against the unyielding force of the wind, I make the journey back to the Cohen home.

I step inside the poolhouse, dripping profoundly from being caught in one of nature's eruptions. The first thing that catches my eye is the light - I hadn't turned on any lights before I left. I glance around quickly - nervously - to see a somewhat confused Seth Cohen, lying on my unmade bed, staring at me questioningly.

Neither of us speak, the deep roar of thunder is the only sound that occupies our attention.

After several indecisive seconds, Seth voices his curiosity, "Where were you, man? In the half an hour that I've been home, Mom's called like six times looking for you."

"What'd you say?" I ask, pushing my wet hair out of my eyes and making my way to the bathroom to grab a towel - his voice having effectively snapped my trance.

"I told her I didn't know where you were and that I'd call her when you showed up."

I immediately notice Seth's use of the word 'when' as opposed to 'if'. He just assumes that I'm always coming back. I wish I could be that naïve and trusting. But seriously, he's been right so far; I've always come back.

I lethargically rub the towel over my head while walking back into Seth's view.

"Seriously, where were you?" he asks again, this time with more urgency.

"At the beach," I state casually. There's no point lying, I haven't done anything wrong - at least I don't think I have. Sometimes it's hard to tell.

"In the rain?"

"It wasn't raining when I left," I reply honestly, my voice barely above a whisper. I can't help but feel like Seth sees through me. I can almost feel him tapping into my thoughts and it scares me. It really scares me that he might know what I'm thinking.

He pauses for a long moment, his eyes resting on the puddle that's forming beneath me. Looking up, he continues, "You okay, man?"

I shrug. I don't know why that's the best answer I can come up with at this particular moment in time, but it will have to do. His eyes lock into mine and I force myself to look away. I can often deter Sandy and Kirsten with some carefully crafted denial, but Seth doesn't seem to buy it as often. The only plus side is that he's a friend - a friend who tries not to piss me off and therefore, he doesn't usually push matters as persistently as his parents.

"Alright, well, I'll call Mom and tell her you just stepped out for a bit, but you'll have to answer the bell as to why you weren't in bed all day," he moves to stand, rubbing his hands together, "And trust me, Ryan, speaking from experience, it's not a fun bell to answer. She's like Nurse Ratchet."

I nod while forcing a small smile, appreciative for the warning. Seth doesn't move for a few seconds, continuing to stare in my direction. Finally, after sorting through some thoughts that he had chosen not to verbalize, he makes his way to the door, pulling it open and poking his head outside, "Looks like you got the worst of it - seems to have slowed." With that, he bolts to the house - shielding his hair with his hands, paranoid about the negative effects of the water on his curly mop.

My teeth are chattering, the cold causing a shiver rip violently through my chest. Grabbing some clean, dry clothes, I make my way to the bathroom where I strip off my pants and shirt - tossing them heavily into the tub. My head and stomach are still screaming their discomfort, forcing me to acknowledge the cutting truth that nothing is right.

I pull a heavy sweater over my dry t-shirt, praying for a reprieve from the gripping cold that has seized me. I can't let my body weaken any more - it's the only thing that I can count on the majority of the time and I absolutely despise the feeling of vulnerability that accompanies being sick - not to mention, the attention it provokes from others.

I don't want the Cohens to worry about me, they don't need that. They have been more to me as a whole, than any other person has ever tried to be, but I have brought so much worry and concern into their lives as it stands. They've gone above and beyond and I need to stop pushing them for more. Eventually, they are going to grow tired of it - everyone always gets tired of me.

I slump onto my bed, the sheets and covers still missing. I should probably go get them and make it up. I don't want them to think that I assume it's going to be done for me. I can't be that person.

I can't have them to think I rely on them. I have been so careful not to make too many connections. Connections tie you down and I need to be ready to leave at any given moment. I'm not gullible enough to believe that my place in this family is concrete - it's anything but. Today was evidence of how fragile my situation is. I saw the fear in her eyes - the hurt that I caused. How long can I keep doing this to these people?

Though they have tried to talk me into believing such a ridiculous notion as just 'being one of them', I can't let them tie me down. If I ever needed to leave, fast - it would be quick and painless. It won't be as hard as it would have been if I had allowed myself to get comfortable. That would be ignorant and naïve - two things that I can't afford to be right now. You always have to be ready, because being comfortable means getting hurt. And honestly, I'm so sick of being hurt.

******************

"I'm actually pulling into the driveway right now, Seth. I'll talk to him, don't worry."

I flip the phone off as I maneuver the vehicle into my usual parking spot. Fumbling the large bags containing the plentiful amounts of Chinese delicacies, I rush to the front door, trying to avoid the spitting rain.

The door swings open as I approach, Seth waving me in as he steps back.

"You could help me here, you know."

He smiles, "But you seem to have everything under control. I don't want to interrupt your superb rhythm."

I roll my eyes in his direction, a gesture that only makes his smile broaden.

Seth follows me into the kitchen, sniffing out the food as I place the heavy bags on the counter.

"Where's Ryan?" I ask, reaching into the cupboard to retrieve the plates that will host the feast.

"Here."

I spin to the direction of the voice, nearly dropping the stack of plates in the process.

"Oh…," is all I can manage to say.

He closes the door behind him and shifts nervously from foot to foot, his eyes looking up and down - anywhere but in my direction.

Seth's eyes are darting from myself to Ryan and back again, his eyebrows raised as he silently questions the obvious awkwardness that exists between us.

"Uh, how are you feeling… Ryan?"

"I'm…," his voice fails him and he pauses to clear his throat, more sure the second time around, "Better."

"Well, if he wasn't sick before, he will be after his adventure in the pouring rain," Seth states matter of factly, smiling mischievously as he divulges the information.

If looks could kill, I'm sure Seth would be on the floor right now. Ryan's eyes all but shooting daggers at my son - I assume he doesn't know that I've already been filled in with regards to his afternoon escapades. Seth's smiles diminishes slightly, but he still looks mildly amused.

"What were you doing out in the rain?" I ask Ryan directly, my motherly instincts demanding the answer to the question.

"I went to the beach. It started to rain. I came back."

It seemed simple enough.

"You should have been in bed, Ryan." Yep, my motherly instincts are definitely in control of this one.

Seth smiles smugly at Ryan, with a look that can only be interpreted as 'I told you so'. I choose to ignore the gesture, but am slightly curious at to what horror stories Seth's been telling him.

"Hey."

I turn to see Sandy enter the kitchen, briefcase in hand. He strolls right up to me, placing a kiss on my lips as he passes by - much to Seth's dismay. He asks Ryan how he's feeling, which he responds to systematically, "Better."

The boys engage in mindless conversation that revolves around sarcasm and intermittent insults; Ryan smiles and chuckles lightly at their banter, but doesn't join in. I busy myself with the highly-domestic task of transporting the cardboard containers of food to the kitchen table.

The mood is light. Seth entertains us with exaggerated tales of his day, I correct him when he gets too detailed in matters that aren't appropriate dinner-time-conversation, Sandy adds his two cents to every comment, and Ryan pushes his food around - cautiously eating tiny portions off his plate.

I make eye contact with Sandy to see if he's noticed Ryan's lethargic eating habits, but he returns with a blank stare, apparently oblivious.

A lull in the conversation presents itself as both Seth and Sandy are refilling their mouths, and I take the opportunity to jump in, "Seth, did you pick up Ryan's homework for him?"

He nods, trying earnestly to swallow what's in his mouth so he can comment on the situation, "Oh yeah," he starts, swallowing again, "And I gotta say, Ryan, I give you credit for having the courage to face that hideous beast of a calculus teacher, day in and day out."

"Seth!" I scoff, trying not to laugh at just how true that analogy is.

But Ryan smiles, nodding his agreement. The smiles are contagious, and I allow myself to join in, the soft chuckle of Sandy's unsuccessfully suppressed laughter fills the air. If there's one thing I can always count on to keep this family close, it will be our dinners. Though I may never be the one who prepares a traditional meal, and we may wander into 'inappropriate territory' several times in each sitting, it keeps us humble, informed and close.

Seth starts into another borderline story, but I decide not to flag this one down. I sit back and smile, simply enjoying the time with my family.

***

Sandy helps me dispose of the empty containers as Ryan finishes wiping the table clean. Seth bounds down the stairs with Ryan's homework in hand, which he accepts reluctantly before thanking me for dinner and leaving to his sanctuary.

Seth grabs the phone and starts dialing, what I can only assume is Summer's number, while making his way up the stairs to his bedroom.

"How was your day?" Sandy asks, wrapping his arms around my waist and swaying from side to side.

"Long," I moan, "My father's off his rocker."

"Tell me something I don't know," he teases, softly rubbing his nose against my neck. I pull away, tickled by the gesture.

"I want you to go talk to Ryan."

Sandy's face pulls back in confusion, "About what?"

I debate whether or not to tell him about the incident this morning - about how I managed to nearly make him jump out of his skin - but instead, I decide to stick to the basics for the time being.

"I had to go into the office around noon, and I called several times to check up on him, but there was no answer. Seth called me and said that Ryan came home, soaking wet from being out in the rain."

"So," he answers, unfathomed by the story that has me visibly shaken, "He probably just got caught in the rain."

"He's sick, Sandy. He shouldn't have been 'out' in the first place."

Sandy sighs while wrapping his arms around me again, "He seems better than yesterday, honey. I think you're reading way too much into this."

"Just talk to him, please," I plead, praying that my husband will have more success getting through to him than I have.

"Alright," he gently kisses my neck again, "I'll talk to him. But not before I change out of this suit."

TBC.

Thanks so much for taking the time to let me know what you think.