Wow! Reviews! I love it! Well, thank you all for the wonderful compliments, you've got me blushing! Ok, SG- I'm sorry if it was boring to you, I was just trying to take a break from the stuff I like to write but am so terrible at, like the one's where people get hurt. I'm thirteen (not quite twelve, but still!) and love action. ;)

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"We're back!" shouted Pilar as she walked through the door.

Ryan wiped away some tears from his face, heading for the bathroom to pour some water on his eyes.

'Oh. Right.' he thought suddenly. 'You don't have a bathroom in your room anymore.' They'd just have to see him as he was. He found a mirror in Arturo's room, and looked at his face. His red eyes looked terrible. He found a baseball cap next to the mirror and put it on. It covered his eyes well enough.

"Here, let me help you." he said, taking the groceries from Pilar. She smiled at him, ignoring his puffy red eyes.

"So, uh, what did the doctors say?" he asked, with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

Theresa grinned. She clasped his hand. "The baby is 100% healthy. Isn't that great?"

Ryan gave a half smile and nodded. That was great.

Theresa sat down happily. "Mom, did you buy any pickles?"

Pilar frowned. "Porque necessitas eso?" she asked.

Ryan frowned. Damn. He didn't know any of those words.

"No puedo tener lo que quiero?" she asked.

Crap. Ryan didn't know any of those words either.

"Sorry Ryan. Um, do you wanna come with me to get some pickles from the corner store? I forgot to pick them up while we were there, and I'm guessing my mom doesn't wanna go." she said.

Ryan nodded, standing up. He got his coat from the hanger and put it on. He noticed that it was starting to rain, and Theresa's car was in the shop. She picked up her pink umbrella, and Ryan noticed a small tear in it. He hoped it wasn't big enough for the tears to fall through, but knowing his luck, the rain would fall right on his head.

Pilar gave Theresa a kiss on the cheek. Ryan took Theresa's hand as they walked out.

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She looked at the bills in her hand. It was going to be much harder to care for another child. At least this one wasn't as demanding as Arturo was.

The phone suddenly rang. Pilar picked it up wearily, saying a slightly sad: "Hello?"

"Hi there. Uh, this is Mr. Cohen. Ryan's fa-- "

There was a pause.

"Ryan's guardian. I was wondering if I could speak to him."

Pilar sighed. She felt dreadful for the poor man. She knew what it was like to not be able to see a son, adopted or not.

"He went to get groceries with Theresa. But if you want I can give him a message."

The man faltered.

"I, uh, I-- I was wondering if you could give me your new address. I have the number, but I just-- I just don't have the address."

Pilar slowly told him her address, asking him if he needed anything else.

"No. No thank you. Uh, would you mind if I came by for a visit?"

Pilar frowned.

"Sure, of course. Ryan will be happy to see you."

Somehow, Sandy doubted that.

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Seth Cohen was being childish.

He knew it. He was sailing away in a stupid boat over something stupid that could be dealt with at his stupid house.

Only it wasn't stupid. It was Ryan.

Seth had been the stupid one. He wished he could've looked at Ryan in the eyes when he said goodbye. Seth snorted. He hadn't said goodbye. He had said "see ya."

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Seth knew that Ryan wasn't going to Pakistan or something. He was going to Chino. Although, couldn't Chino be just as bad as Pakistan? I mean, it was basically like a third world country all in its own, wasn't it? I mean, there were bums and hobos and everything. But hobos and bums were the same thing, weren't they?

What was he talking about? Oh god he was stupid. Thus concluding the battle he was inwardly fighting. Ok, so the conclusions he had come to were:

Ryan wasn't stupid, Seth was.

Ryan was being a jackass, but a jackass that was trying to do the right thing.

Mom and Dad were going to kill him.

The last one struck a chord. He was so screwed. Chances were Kirsten had already called the police. She was so melodramatic. There were other reasons that Seth had been such a loser before Ryan came. His parents were so overprotective.

Seth could recall the one time he had complained to Ryan about their curfews. Ryan had shrugged nonchalantly.

"I think it's nice to know that someone cares enough to want us home by a certain time." he had whispered quietly.

Seth had frowned and curled his upper lip in disgust.

"Dude, are you stupid or something?"

Ryan had flinched, and Seth had frowned, guilt tugging at him slightly from his rude comment.

"No, I didn't mean it like that, it's just that I've never known anyone who likes curfews. It's kind of minty."

Ryan had nodded, but the guilt hadn't left Seth. So he gotten Ryan an ice cream, despite his protests. He didn't know why exactly Ryan couldn't eat more than a little bit of food at a time, but it really pissed him off.

Suddenly Seth was glad he had his cell phone. Maybe later when he was feeling up to it, he could call Ryan's new "home" and apologize. Maybe that would make him feel better.

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Ryan was smiling by the time he got back from the store with Theresa. She had somehow managed to completely change his mood without him noticing. They had gone to the park and talked. They had talked about their past, their future, and everything in between. They didn't notice time fly by. Ryan did notice, however, that the small hole in the umbrella didn't let the water leak through.

Maybe everything was going to be ok.

"Hello, Mrs. Nunez." he said, leaving the small bag of pickles on the table.

Pilar smiled warmly at him. "Guess what!" she exclaimed, still smiling.

Ryan frowned, the last taste of a smile lingering on his lips.

"What?" he asked.

"Your dad, Sandy Cohen is coming over!" She didn't bother to call him Ryan's adoptive father, or even guardian, because she knew that Sandy Cohen had been more of a father to the boy than his real father had.

Pilar watched Ryan's small smile disappear.

"When? Did you tell him this address?"

Pilar walked towards him, although she noted that he was holding his hands in front of his torso, signaling that she should stay away from him.

"He's coming over right now, and yes, of course I told him the address. Is something wrong?"

Ryan nodded, looking away from her, at the ground.

She hated it when he did that. He used to do that when he was a kid, too. Not a little kid, but later on, at around eight or so. He would usually start looking at you after he seemed to trust you, but then, after a few days, he'd go back to looking at the ground.

"When will he be here?" he asked quietly.

"Well, he called a couple of hours ago, and it doesn't take that long to get here, so he should be here any minute now." She gave him a quizzical look.

"Please..." he whispered, so only she could hear. "Please don't tell him I'm here... I can't really tell you why, but you can't tell him I'm here..."

Pilar frowned. "Then what am I supposed to tell him?"

Ryan shook his head. "I don't know, ok? I just-- tell him I'm out getting some more groceries, or that I'm-- I'm at the library...or the movie store." He looked at Pilar pleadingly. She nodded.

"Ok, but we're going to have a little talk, later, alright?"

Ryan nodded.

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Sandy's windshield wipers squeaked as they moved back and forth. It never rained like this in Newport.

He stopped near a small house and checked the number written on his palm. It matched with the faux-gold letters on the wooden door.

Knocking on the door, he stepped from side to side, guilt, paranoia, sadness, and complete anxiousness filled his body. He felt as though he were going to fall to the ground in tears. Seth was gone, Ryan was gone, and he felt as though the two of the three most important things in his life were ripped from his heart.

Sandy heard quick footsteps followed by slower ones, and the click of the lock being turned. A short, dark haired woman with a face drawn with thoughts Sandy couldn't quite interpret opened the door.

"Hello Mr. Cohen." she said.

"Please, call me Sandy."

Sandy hated how his voice almost broke when he spoke. It made him seem like he was on the verge of tears.

The back door of Theresa's house swung back and forth in the wind.

"Well, Sandy, it's very nice to meet you. Ryan's told me so much about you." said Pilar with a smile. Sandy nodded.

"I'm sure he has. Is he-- uh, is he here?" Sandy looked around into Theresa's house, finally spotting her as she cut up some pickles.

"No." said Pilar, and although she sounded truthful, her eyes deceived her.

"Do you mind if I--" Sandy stopped. His voice was going to crack if he continued, and he knew it. But he had to continue. Taking a deep breath, he took a risk.

"Do you mind if I leave a message?" he said, his eyes filled with tears. Pilar gave him a pitying look which he hated, and he ran his hands through his hair nervously.

"Go ahead." said Pilar.

Sandy looked over to Theresa, who was cutting the pickles at a much faster speed than before, tapping her foot on the ground in rhythm with her slices.

Sandy took another deep breath. He felt like he was walking on thin ice. He had to take it easy, or he would lose his cool.

"Could you--"

Dammit. His cool was definitely not going to stay with him very much longer.

"Could you tell him that I'm sorry for yelling at him, and I--" His voice broke and he closed his eyes in disgust.

"I need to see him. Life just won't be the same without him, and--" he paused again, his hand running through his hair again for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past three minutes.

"Tell him I love him, and I'm just trying to look out for him."

Pilar frowned, the man in front of her seeming about an inch away from bursting into tears.

"And, and Kirsten's worried about him. She's really worried about him. And so am I! I mean, I just, I'm about to have a nervous breakdown here--"

Well, Pilar didn't need him to say it to know it was true.

"Sandy, would you like some tea?" she asked.

Sandy Cohen looked like he was nine years old as he nodded and looked at his feet.

-----------------------------Flashback---------------------------------------------

Ryan Atwood picked at the food in front of him.

It was the first meal he'd had in a week, and although the cramps in his side were urging him to eat the mashed potatoes and ham in front of him, the much more painful ache in his stomach told him that if he ate anything, he would surely throw it up. And there was nothing that his mother hated more than wasted food. Although, if he left the food on the plate, it would also get wasted.

Ryan could never win.

Everything was a dilemma. He briefly thought about taking a small bite, but the smell alone was enough to make him vomit.

Not that it didn't look delicious. Because it did. It was just that if he ate it, his stomach would revolt, and then Dawn would get pissed.

At the age of nine, Ryan was scared of his own mother.

"What the hell are you doing you little twit?" she asked suddenly, startling the small boy.

"Pardon?" he asked. He knew better than to be rude.

"Eat your fucking food. I slaved in the kitchen all day for that shit, so you'll eat it, understood?"

Ryan glanced at Trey, who was eating as quickly as possible. "Understood?" Dawn asked again, the anger rising in her voice.

"Yes, mom." said Ryan, looking at his plate. He still couldn't bring himself to force the food in.

"Eat!" said his mother, swatting him forcefully on the head. He didn't look up for fear of another swat, but put the fork down.

A second later, Steve put his beer down. Ryan eyed it carefully. It must have been his third... no, his fourth beer that night. "Eat your fucking food, shithead!" said Steve. Ryan visibly recoiled, but didn't pick up the fork. He knew he should be explaining that it wasn't that he didn't want to eat the food, but that he couldn't.

Trey had other resources. He could ask one of his friends to give him food.

Ryan couldn't do that.

His pride forbid him to do that.

"That's it. Get up."

Ryan obeyed, his eyes closed. Steve punched him once in the chin, and the skinny boy fell to the ground. He could have stayed up longer, but he just felt like giving in.

"Get up!"

Ryan didn't. His chin wasn't bleeding, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

"I think I'll stay here..." he said, finally gathering the courage to look Steve in the eye and glare.

That was a mistake.

In between the barrage of kicks, Ryan managed to look at his mother, who had her head in her hands. She was shaking her head. It made Ryan want to egg Steve on so that he'd kill him. He wanted to beg her to look at him.

Then again, what did he expect? His mother taught him that looking at your elders was disrespectful, so why should it be any different when looking at your child get beaten?

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To Be Continued...

I'd love some more reviews, if ya get my drift. I'm winking if you can't tell by the non-being-able-to-see-me-action. More soon, I promise!