Disclaimer: The OC and its characters belong to someone with much more
money than me.
Author's Note: I still have readers. Yeah! I was concerned maybe a few of you had given up on me. I don't deserve all of you. Move closer now, group hug. Well, it's somebody's birthday. Yes, AA, I'm talking to you, so, happy birthday. A short and not so sweet chapter, well, there's a little sweet, but it's a lot of short. Whatever. Hi Liz, I know you tried to beta, but I keep changing things. Sorry. I'm hopeless.
As always, thanks for reading!
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Thursday Afternoon
Chapter Ten
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Inside Seth's hospital room, Kirsten fumbles with the ill-fitting hospital gown. The teenager doesn't have meningitis but the doctor is concerned about protecting Seth from visitors. She adjusts the gown again, looks up as a nurse enters Seth's hospital room.
Kirsten spies the woman's nametag. It reads Kelly. This is the same nurse that has been with the Cohens all late afternoon and into the night, smiling at them, offering words of encouragement. But this is the first time Kirsten has bothered to figure out the woman's name.
"Well," Kelly greets Kirsten with a grin that is barely visible above the mask she is wearing. "I have some good news and some not so good news."
Kirsten looks at the woman apprehensively, "Good news?"
"Seth's temperature is down. He's holding at 104.2."
Kirsten shivers. 104.2 sounds like something a chicken should be cooked at, not a number to be considered a positive sign.
Rubbing her forehead Kirsten tentatively asks, "Not so good news?"
"Well, with the Tordal keeping his headache at bay, Seth's been complaining about his throat more. It was red and slightly inflamed when he was admitted, but there's some swelling in his lymph nodes that has developed."
"I thought Dr. Holbrith ruled out strep?" Kirsten asks.
Kelly shrugs, "Well, strep is not the only cause of a sore throat. Could be several things. I've informed Doctor Holbrith of the latest development. She's not available, so she's sending Doctor Hughes up from pediatrics. He's one of the best ENT doctors in Orange County. Put tubes in my own son's ear just a few months ago."
Kirsten casts a worried glance over at Seth. "You said he was asking for me?"
"Yes," Kelly pipes in cheerfully. "I think he's still partially awake. You know, you have a very funny kid," the nurse says, laughing to herself. "Seth asked me if he could take his IV home with him, something about summertime and Tahiti. Said I had to run it by you first, although he did sound fairly confident he could fit it into the car." Kelly wrinkles her eyebrows, makes a sad, puppy-dog face and puts a hand over her heart. "He's so sweet. He told me my ice chips are the best he's ever tasted."
Kirsten offers a shy smile and a slight nod to the woman, has a seat next to Seth, and thanks the nurse for everything. She rubs Seth's arm. When he opens his eyes and blinks with confusion at her, Kirsten resists the urge to give him a kiss. Seth is sixteen. Sick or not, there is absolutely no public display of affection allowed. Besides, the mask makes that kind of contact impossible, reminding Kirsten that absolutely nothing about this situation is ordinary.
"Hi," she smiles at him, and waits while he manages to dig his way out of a drowsy haze. "So Seth, tell me again about your theory, everyone overreacting huh?"
"Yeah," he agrees, his voice so much lower than normal, scratchy. "That...may have been a slight under-reaction on my part."
Silence.
Kirsten fills the moment with memories of a smiling, hyperactive child, a shock of unruly black hair, pudgy hands, trusting smiles.
"Hey mom," her son brings her back to the present. "I still feel wobbly, but in a good way now. IV drugs...maybe not so bad."
Kirsten places her hand on the boy's hair, rubs his cheek. She's getting away with a lot of touchy feely; he's too tired to mass a defense.
"Do you understand what's happening to you, Seth?"
He nods slightly, closes his eyes, and snuggles into her hand. "I think so. I'm still sick but not big needle sick. Maybe huge Q-Tip sick."
Kirsten couldn't have said it better herself.
"I love you Seth."
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Sandy is normally cool headed, even keeled. Right now? He wants to pull Carden out of the car and shove his face into the pavement.
Ryan opens the passenger side door and climbs out of the car. He seems surprised to see his foster father waiting outside for him.
"Everything okay, Sandy? Seth's alright?"
Sandy tries to keep his temper in check and Ryan at ease.
"Yep. I needed to get some fresh air. Everything's good." Sandy looks across Ryan, into the car. Ed Carden is watching him and Ryan, guilt written across his face.
"Let's go Ryan," Sandy motions towards the emergency room entrance.
Ryan bends down, grabs the bag he packed for Seth, notices Ed staring at him.
"Thanks for ride, man," the teen offers. "I hope your car gets fixed." Ryan hesitates, maintains his eye contact with Ed. "Thanks again...for everything."
Sandy raises his voice, "Come on Ryan."
Ryan stands upright, looks doubtfully at Sandy. Something's not right; maybe Seth is worse than the Cohens let on. Sandy's acting weird.
"Go inside Ryan. I'll finish thanking Ed. Check in at the admissions desk, they'll show you where to go."
Sandy makes his way to Ryan, senses the boy's uncertainty, reaches up, puts his hand on the side of Ryan's face, physically forces the teenager to focus on him. "It's been one hell of a day Ryan. Kirsten's worried about you, so am I. Go on in, I'll see you inside." He pats the boy on the back.
Confused by Sandy admission, Ryan clarifies, "You're worried about Seth, right? I'm fine. Why would you or Kirsten be worried about me?"
Sandy clears his throat. "Worried was a poor choice of words Ryan. We just missed you. I'm glad you're here. Kirsten is too. She's with Seth right now, go on in, I'll catch up with you." Sandy pats Ryan on the back again, smiles, and nervously runs his fingers through his hair.
Ryan adjusts the bag on his shoulder, nods and shuffles towards the emergency room entrance, throwing several glances backwards at the two men as he makes his way into the hospital.
Sandy waits until Ryan enters the building and then walks the rest of the way to Ed Carden's car. He puts his hand on the rim of the roof and leans into the passenger side.
Trapped, Carden tries preemptive measures, "Mr. Cohen, Sandy, look, I'm sorry. I know I stepped way out of bounds here. I tried to stay in my hotel room, really I did, but I couldn't stop thinking about him. I had to make sure he was okay. You're a father..." Carden implores of Sandy, "You have to know what it feels like, what I'm going through. I couldn't leave California not knowing if he was all right, not knowing if he was truly safe."
Sandy's not in a forgiving mood. Dead wife or not, Dawn's bombshell aside, Sandy's main concern is Ryan, and this guy needs to understand that right now. He keeps his voice low, in control, but speaks with a careful deliberateness.
"You had no right to do this Ed. I promised you I would call you in the morning. I've got a sick kid in the emergency room; a kid that Ryan cares a hell of a lot about. My family, including Ryan, does not need to be dealing with this tonight. Did you even consider Ryan's needs? Do you have any idea what my wife and I just went through, knowing you were there, in our home, talking to him, alone? We're miles away, and you're saying God knows what to Ryan. Too far for Kirsten and I to intercede if he needs us?"
Carden stammers, tries to interrupt Sandy with a further explanation but Sandy's not having any of it.
"No, I'm not done yet. Ed. And when I am, you are going to go back to your hotel room, get yourself under control, and wait for my phone call in the morning. I don't want you anywhere near Ryan again until we all know what exactly we are dealing with. This kid has gone through enough, spent enough of his life being at the mercy of adults who can't keep his best interests at heart. I'm sorry if Dawn screwed you over. If it turns out that Ryan is really your son, it's awful that she kept him from you. But this kid is my responsibility, and biological father or not, I'll be damned if you are going to destroy what little stability my family and I have managed to bring into Ryan's life."
"Sandy?"
The lawyer hears his name, spins around.
Ryan is standing there. Looking at him, part bewilderment, part betrayal.
From inside the car, Ed Carden issues a quiet, "Oh God," and starts to get out of the vehicle.
Sandy moves toward his foster son. Reaching out, he tries to make contact with Ryan but the boy side steps him, keeps his eyes on Sandy, and walks backwards to the open passenger door of the car.
Ryan's voice is monotone, "I dropped one of Seth's CDs."
The boy reaches into the rental awkwardly, his body still facing Sandy, grabs the errant cartridge, keeps a close watch of Sandy from the corner of his eye.
"Ryan," Sandy says softly, "Come here, it's ok. Let me explain all of this."
Carden slowly eases himself out of the rental, closes his door, leans over the roof of the car, watches Ryan watching Sandy.
The boy folds his arms over his stomach, backs away from both men, his eyes darting between them.
"Ryan," Sandy tries again, his voice a subtle plea, "Please ...come here."
Outside the hospital entrance, Ryan Atwood is made of concrete.
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To Be Continued...da da da da...
Author's Note: I still have readers. Yeah! I was concerned maybe a few of you had given up on me. I don't deserve all of you. Move closer now, group hug. Well, it's somebody's birthday. Yes, AA, I'm talking to you, so, happy birthday. A short and not so sweet chapter, well, there's a little sweet, but it's a lot of short. Whatever. Hi Liz, I know you tried to beta, but I keep changing things. Sorry. I'm hopeless.
As always, thanks for reading!
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Thursday Afternoon
Chapter Ten
-----------------------------------------
Inside Seth's hospital room, Kirsten fumbles with the ill-fitting hospital gown. The teenager doesn't have meningitis but the doctor is concerned about protecting Seth from visitors. She adjusts the gown again, looks up as a nurse enters Seth's hospital room.
Kirsten spies the woman's nametag. It reads Kelly. This is the same nurse that has been with the Cohens all late afternoon and into the night, smiling at them, offering words of encouragement. But this is the first time Kirsten has bothered to figure out the woman's name.
"Well," Kelly greets Kirsten with a grin that is barely visible above the mask she is wearing. "I have some good news and some not so good news."
Kirsten looks at the woman apprehensively, "Good news?"
"Seth's temperature is down. He's holding at 104.2."
Kirsten shivers. 104.2 sounds like something a chicken should be cooked at, not a number to be considered a positive sign.
Rubbing her forehead Kirsten tentatively asks, "Not so good news?"
"Well, with the Tordal keeping his headache at bay, Seth's been complaining about his throat more. It was red and slightly inflamed when he was admitted, but there's some swelling in his lymph nodes that has developed."
"I thought Dr. Holbrith ruled out strep?" Kirsten asks.
Kelly shrugs, "Well, strep is not the only cause of a sore throat. Could be several things. I've informed Doctor Holbrith of the latest development. She's not available, so she's sending Doctor Hughes up from pediatrics. He's one of the best ENT doctors in Orange County. Put tubes in my own son's ear just a few months ago."
Kirsten casts a worried glance over at Seth. "You said he was asking for me?"
"Yes," Kelly pipes in cheerfully. "I think he's still partially awake. You know, you have a very funny kid," the nurse says, laughing to herself. "Seth asked me if he could take his IV home with him, something about summertime and Tahiti. Said I had to run it by you first, although he did sound fairly confident he could fit it into the car." Kelly wrinkles her eyebrows, makes a sad, puppy-dog face and puts a hand over her heart. "He's so sweet. He told me my ice chips are the best he's ever tasted."
Kirsten offers a shy smile and a slight nod to the woman, has a seat next to Seth, and thanks the nurse for everything. She rubs Seth's arm. When he opens his eyes and blinks with confusion at her, Kirsten resists the urge to give him a kiss. Seth is sixteen. Sick or not, there is absolutely no public display of affection allowed. Besides, the mask makes that kind of contact impossible, reminding Kirsten that absolutely nothing about this situation is ordinary.
"Hi," she smiles at him, and waits while he manages to dig his way out of a drowsy haze. "So Seth, tell me again about your theory, everyone overreacting huh?"
"Yeah," he agrees, his voice so much lower than normal, scratchy. "That...may have been a slight under-reaction on my part."
Silence.
Kirsten fills the moment with memories of a smiling, hyperactive child, a shock of unruly black hair, pudgy hands, trusting smiles.
"Hey mom," her son brings her back to the present. "I still feel wobbly, but in a good way now. IV drugs...maybe not so bad."
Kirsten places her hand on the boy's hair, rubs his cheek. She's getting away with a lot of touchy feely; he's too tired to mass a defense.
"Do you understand what's happening to you, Seth?"
He nods slightly, closes his eyes, and snuggles into her hand. "I think so. I'm still sick but not big needle sick. Maybe huge Q-Tip sick."
Kirsten couldn't have said it better herself.
"I love you Seth."
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Sandy is normally cool headed, even keeled. Right now? He wants to pull Carden out of the car and shove his face into the pavement.
Ryan opens the passenger side door and climbs out of the car. He seems surprised to see his foster father waiting outside for him.
"Everything okay, Sandy? Seth's alright?"
Sandy tries to keep his temper in check and Ryan at ease.
"Yep. I needed to get some fresh air. Everything's good." Sandy looks across Ryan, into the car. Ed Carden is watching him and Ryan, guilt written across his face.
"Let's go Ryan," Sandy motions towards the emergency room entrance.
Ryan bends down, grabs the bag he packed for Seth, notices Ed staring at him.
"Thanks for ride, man," the teen offers. "I hope your car gets fixed." Ryan hesitates, maintains his eye contact with Ed. "Thanks again...for everything."
Sandy raises his voice, "Come on Ryan."
Ryan stands upright, looks doubtfully at Sandy. Something's not right; maybe Seth is worse than the Cohens let on. Sandy's acting weird.
"Go inside Ryan. I'll finish thanking Ed. Check in at the admissions desk, they'll show you where to go."
Sandy makes his way to Ryan, senses the boy's uncertainty, reaches up, puts his hand on the side of Ryan's face, physically forces the teenager to focus on him. "It's been one hell of a day Ryan. Kirsten's worried about you, so am I. Go on in, I'll see you inside." He pats the boy on the back.
Confused by Sandy admission, Ryan clarifies, "You're worried about Seth, right? I'm fine. Why would you or Kirsten be worried about me?"
Sandy clears his throat. "Worried was a poor choice of words Ryan. We just missed you. I'm glad you're here. Kirsten is too. She's with Seth right now, go on in, I'll catch up with you." Sandy pats Ryan on the back again, smiles, and nervously runs his fingers through his hair.
Ryan adjusts the bag on his shoulder, nods and shuffles towards the emergency room entrance, throwing several glances backwards at the two men as he makes his way into the hospital.
Sandy waits until Ryan enters the building and then walks the rest of the way to Ed Carden's car. He puts his hand on the rim of the roof and leans into the passenger side.
Trapped, Carden tries preemptive measures, "Mr. Cohen, Sandy, look, I'm sorry. I know I stepped way out of bounds here. I tried to stay in my hotel room, really I did, but I couldn't stop thinking about him. I had to make sure he was okay. You're a father..." Carden implores of Sandy, "You have to know what it feels like, what I'm going through. I couldn't leave California not knowing if he was all right, not knowing if he was truly safe."
Sandy's not in a forgiving mood. Dead wife or not, Dawn's bombshell aside, Sandy's main concern is Ryan, and this guy needs to understand that right now. He keeps his voice low, in control, but speaks with a careful deliberateness.
"You had no right to do this Ed. I promised you I would call you in the morning. I've got a sick kid in the emergency room; a kid that Ryan cares a hell of a lot about. My family, including Ryan, does not need to be dealing with this tonight. Did you even consider Ryan's needs? Do you have any idea what my wife and I just went through, knowing you were there, in our home, talking to him, alone? We're miles away, and you're saying God knows what to Ryan. Too far for Kirsten and I to intercede if he needs us?"
Carden stammers, tries to interrupt Sandy with a further explanation but Sandy's not having any of it.
"No, I'm not done yet. Ed. And when I am, you are going to go back to your hotel room, get yourself under control, and wait for my phone call in the morning. I don't want you anywhere near Ryan again until we all know what exactly we are dealing with. This kid has gone through enough, spent enough of his life being at the mercy of adults who can't keep his best interests at heart. I'm sorry if Dawn screwed you over. If it turns out that Ryan is really your son, it's awful that she kept him from you. But this kid is my responsibility, and biological father or not, I'll be damned if you are going to destroy what little stability my family and I have managed to bring into Ryan's life."
"Sandy?"
The lawyer hears his name, spins around.
Ryan is standing there. Looking at him, part bewilderment, part betrayal.
From inside the car, Ed Carden issues a quiet, "Oh God," and starts to get out of the vehicle.
Sandy moves toward his foster son. Reaching out, he tries to make contact with Ryan but the boy side steps him, keeps his eyes on Sandy, and walks backwards to the open passenger door of the car.
Ryan's voice is monotone, "I dropped one of Seth's CDs."
The boy reaches into the rental awkwardly, his body still facing Sandy, grabs the errant cartridge, keeps a close watch of Sandy from the corner of his eye.
"Ryan," Sandy says softly, "Come here, it's ok. Let me explain all of this."
Carden slowly eases himself out of the rental, closes his door, leans over the roof of the car, watches Ryan watching Sandy.
The boy folds his arms over his stomach, backs away from both men, his eyes darting between them.
"Ryan," Sandy tries again, his voice a subtle plea, "Please ...come here."
Outside the hospital entrance, Ryan Atwood is made of concrete.
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To Be Continued...da da da da...