Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the O.C. I am making no money. I have been inspired by this show and its characters, and my imagination has wandered. I am just sharing my musings with others. Please do not sue. I have nothing to give.

Author's Note: If I still have any readers left, after the difficult chapter 3, thank you. I appreciate the kind reviews. I had a lot of trouble with ch. 3, and it took some time to get back to the story. Plus, I had to change some things for chapter 4, since I had never actually written ch. 3. Once 3 was written, some things in 4 had to change. Don't worry; it's not as hard to read as the last one was.

Back in the Hole

Chapter 4

Abandoned Again

As Ryan sat on the curb underneath the pay phone, he thought about the impending confrontation with Sandy and Kirsten. He had promised them that he would stay out of trouble. "No more fights," they had said. He was afraid that they would somehow blame him for the trouble tonight. He knew that he didn't really deserve the home and care that the Cohens had given to him, and that it was only a matter of time before they realized that he was just a worthless loser, but he had hoped to make it last longer than this.

Sighing, Ryan shifted gently, remembering to be careful with his ribs. He knew that there was still a possibility that one of them could puncture a lung, and that was not a pain that he cared to experience again. Twice had been enough, thank you very much.

He glanced at his watch, realizing that time had been going so slowly. It had only been about two minutes since he had hung up with Seth, and the house was at least five minutes away. He still had a few minutes until everyone arrived.

Ryan let his mind replay the phone conversation with Seth. When he'd said that he'd been hurt, Seth had immediately assumed that Luke and his water polo buddies had been the culprits. For some reason, he really refused to believe Ryan's assertions that Luke had been nowhere around. Seth was convinced that Ryan was lying about his attacker. Of course, Ryan actually was lying, but that was beside the point. Ryan had convinced Seth to keep his suspicions to himself, and Seth had convinced Ryan that he could not take his wounded brother to the hospital without informing their parents. This meant that the entire Cohen family would come along for the little "save Ryan Atwood in the middle of the night" field trip.

I'm always causing trouble, Ryan thought dejectedly. Why can't I just be a normal kid, without bringing all this crap to other people's lives? I've already caused so much damage here. So many people would just be better off without me here.

The sound of a siren broke Ryan out of his thoughts. He always assumed that the cops were coming for him or his family, and he never liked that sound. He stayed still for a few moments, hoping that the sirens would head in another direction, but he was an Atwood. Of course the siren was coming this way.

Ryan checked warily around the parking lot, looking to see if there was anybody around who had witnessed the confrontation between himself and A.J. He didn't think that this could have been the reason, since it had been a while ago, but he had no other guesses right now.

Suddenly, it occurred to him. What if the Cohens called the police? Would they really do that? Maybe they're just sick of picking up after me, and they're fed up and they didn't want to have to deal with me tonight? Sandy and Kirsten are both too responsible to just leave me when I need help, and Seth would nag them until they took care of me in some way, so maybe that's why they called the police. They wouldn't just be ditching me back into the system. Would they?

As Ryan wondered, he bit his lip lightly, and then gasped as it pulled at the split skin on his chin. Just then a police car rolled into the parking lot of the Crab Shack, lights spinning and siren blaring. Even before the car had rolled to a complete stop, both of the officers' doors were open, and they were stepping out, guns drawn.

Ryan reacted without thinking. He was already standing as the car pulled into sight, his hands clenched into tight fists. Shaking, he began to back away.

"Ryan Atwood!" called the driver of the police car. "Are you Ryan Atwood!?" When Ryan didn't respond, but continued to take slow steps backwards, this officer became angrier. He was here to help a boy who had been mugged, and--from the looks of it--this was the kid. Why was he trying to leave? Cops do have jobs to do. "DON'T MOVE!" he yelled. After all, he did have to be careful not to let the perpetrator go, right? If he scared a little sense into the kid, that would be a bonus, too.

Sliding into panic, Ryan began to hyperventilate. This should have hurt his ribs, but the adrenaline was pumping through his body, and he noticed no pain right now. Logically, he knew that he had to obey the officer. There was no point in resisting. There were two of them, they were uninjured, and they had weapons. Ryan would never win. The rest of Ryan's brain, and every fiber in his body were all screaming at Ryan to RUN! If he stayed, there would be pain and touching and questions and prying, and nothing would be fixed. Things always get worse. Remember, you're an Atwood.

"Kid, don't do it," the second officer warned, as Ryan took a faltering half-step backwards.

Ryan finally noticed the drawn guns, and he managed to force his body and the rest of his mind to listen to the practical part. He tried to slow his breathing, and his forced his fists to flatten into hands, which he slowly raised to his sides, trying to show the officers that he had no weapons. He knew that the next command would be for him to drop to his knees, and he almost did so before he was told to, but he remembered--just in time--that cops didn't look kindly on unauthorized movements. He had to be careful to avoid getting shot.

"Drop to your knees, kid," the second officer said, not unkindly.

Keeping his eyes on the asphalt, Ryan slowly knelt. He gasped as he felt a sharp stabbing in his ribs, and he reflexively doubled over, clenching both hands to his stomach.

Before Ryan even knew what had happened, he found himself knocked to the pavement, screaming in agony. One cop had tackled him, sending him backwards. When he landed, Ryan hit the back of his head on the ground, and he was suddenly very dizzy. He saw orange spots on his closed lids, and his mouth felt funny. It was kind of vibrating, and he was suddenly tasting something fuzzy. It cleared away within a moment, and Ryan opened his eyes to find himself pinned to the pavement, on his stomach. The searing pain in his lower back had returned, and his ribs were screaming at him, as his arms were pulled behind him. The first cop had his boot on Ryan's upper back, as the second cop cuffed Ryan's wrists. This felt far too familiar, and Ryan could no longer hold back the panic. "Nooooooo…." he moaned, feeling the world start to spin. Once that first word was freed, it was as if he had opened flood gates. He could not seem to stop the screaming.

The officers were stunned, for a moment. They had no clue what was going on with this kid. They had been sent to help a mugging victim, and they were pretty sure that this kid was the one they were looking for. However, until they were sure, they had to proceed under the assumption that he was dangerous. It was a matter of saving their own lives.

Things had been weird from the start with this kid. He was having the wrong reactions to everything, and now he was screaming and writhing and fighting, and it had looked like he had been going for a weapon. They had searched him as they cuffed him, and they knew that he had no weapon, but he had proven to be unpredictable, and unpredictability equaled dangerous, in a cop's life. They had to get this kid calm, and then they could talk to him, make sure that he was Ryan Atwood, and then they could let him out of the cuffs.

They could not understand this kid's reaction. He was screaming. Most of it was just wordless noise, but there were some disturbing sentences in there too.

"Please, don't! Let me go! Let me go! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Notagain-notagain-notagain-notagain-notagain!!!"

Neither cop knew what to do, and they were both glad when the ambulance pulled in. It had been right behind the officers, and they knew that it had only been about two minutes since they had entered the parking lot, but they felt like it had been an eternity.

"What've we got?" asked the first paramedic, as he pulled his gurney from the back of the bus and headed over to the cops.

The first officer filled them in on the events of the last two minutes, and then he added his theory. "I think this kid's a doper. He's gotta be flyin' on something'. He just ain't right."

"We'll check him out," responded the second paramedic. "We're gonna need some help, though. He's stable enough to move, since he's thrashing around so much. If he's injured, we need to immobilize him, to keep him from doing more damage. Can you guys lift him onto the gurney? We'll strap him in, then head to the hospital."

As the officers lifted bent to lift Ryan, the boot was removed from his back. When Ryan felt this, he realized that this was his chance for escape. He tried to roll over and scoot away, but there were too many hands, and they picked him up into the air.

As he was placed onto the gurney, his screams began to turn to sobs, and the fight began to leave him. He was surrendering again. He felt his legs being strapped to the gurney, and he knew what was coming next. "Please," he sobbed. "Please, don't do this to me. Please. Just let me go."

EMT Cruz, who was in the middle of fastening the restraint across Ryan's thighs, paused to look at the boy. This was one messed-up kid. He was truly terrified of something, and Cruz didn't think that the kid was actually with them right now. He had a feeling that this kid was somewhere else, in another time, and that it was not a happy time. He watched the officers remove the cuffs and press the kid back into the gurney, waiting for Cruz to finish strapping the kid down. Shaking himself back to work, Cruz realized that the best way to help this kid would be to get him to the hospital, where they could get a psych consult. This kid sure needed a good head doctor. He began to fasten the chest restraint, planning to return to the waist, once the boy was more secured.

As he reached up to grab the strap, he saw the boy's eyes following his hands. Still sobbing and begging, but never making eye contact, the kid tried to pull away from Cruz' hands. "It's okay, kid," Cruz whispered. "We're not here to hurt you. We're here to help. I'm just gonna get you strapped in here, and then we'll get you to the hospital. They'll take care of you there." Cruz finished fastening Ryan's chest strap, and moved down to the waist strap.

Ryan continued to beg. "Please, please don't tie me down. Please, I'll do whatever you want, I'll do whatever you want, just please don't hurt me. Don't tie me down. Please. I won't run, just let me go. I can stand it if you just don't tie me down, please, don't tie me down."

Cruz felt sickened, but he didn't know what else to do. He fastened the last of Ryan's straps, and then he and his partner, Bailey pushed the gurney into the ambulance, carrying the sobbing boy along with it.

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From his pickup truck, A.J. couldn't decide whether to laugh or spit. He did love watching the kid freak out. It had been his main source of entertainment for a long time. But this cop-paramedic-hospital thing was ruining his plans. If Ryan kept freaking out, he'd be on a 72-hour psych hold at the hospital, and that would postpone A.J.'s score from the rich lawyer's house. He watched as the EMTs finally pushed Ryan into the ambulance and drove away, and he decided that he had to figure out his next move. He was having trouble thinking, though. He was starting to feel sick. He needed another fix. He'd find Dawn, share a little of her stash, and then figure out what to do next.

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In the ambulance, Ryan was unaware of the paramedics. He felt their hands touching him, but he did not realize that they were trying to help him. All he knew was that he was feeling pain, hands were touching him, he was tied down, and the Cohens had abandoned him too. I've been abandoned again. They promised me that I had a home with them, and they've finally ditched me too. I knew it all along. Why does it hurt so much? Ryan's thoughts kept going in circles, and he couldn't understand where he was or why these people were hurting him. Oh, no, I'm tied down! I'm tied down! I have to get up. I have to get away! he began to scream to himself. As he struggled to sit up, two strong hands grabbed his shoulders and kept him down. Quick, Ryan thought, shut down. Get away.

Ryan's mind swiftly, mercifully, finally took him away from the torment.