DISCLAIMER: While I do, finally, own some original characters, I own no one that has been seen on Fox's spectacular show, "The O.C." While I cannot name who does own them, I can say that it is definitely not myself, nor any of my family, as our lifestyles can prove. Please don't sue. I have nothing to give.
Chapter 6
Permission to Hurt
Sandy gripped the steering wheel in frustration and barely concealed anger. "I told you, officer; we're on our way to the hospital! My son's been injured!"
Unimpressed, Officer Harris simply gazed back at the distraught man in the driver's seat. "And I told you, Mr. Cohen, that reckless driving is still a ticketable offense. What good will it do your son if you are injured in an accident on the way to the hospital?"
Sandy closed his eyes, leaned his head back against the headrest, and groaned disgustedly.
Jumping in before her husband's impulsive nature could get them into further trouble, Kirsten placed a calming hand on Sandy's shoulder. She leaned over to the window and smiled sweetly at the officer.
"We're very sorry, officer. You're completely right. We should be more careful. Especially with our other son in the car."
At that, Seth leaned forward to speak, but both Kirsten and Sandy spun quickly to glare him into silence. The last thing they needed was a second Cohen man mouthing off to a police officer. What they needed was to get their ticket and head for the hospital.
Mumbling something about "parental injustice and gross disregard for a person's right to free speech," Seth sat back glumly, crossing his arms on his chest and glaring at the back of his dad's seat.
Kirsten kept her hand on Sandy's shoulder, and she tightened it, almost imperceptibly, when he took in another breath to complain, again. He turned to look at his wife, opening his mouth to defend himself, but she shot him a glare that was worthy of Ryan Atwood, and he thought better of speaking at the moment.
Losing no time at all, Kirsten turned her smile back on, as she spoke sweetly to the officer. "We're so grateful to you, officer, for reminding us to stay safe. We wouldn't know what to do if we had caused an accident and injured someone. You really are an angel of mercy." Kirsten sounded so sincerely apologetic and grateful that Sandy wanted to puke. He hated capitulating to authority figures almost as much as Ryan did, and it pleased him to realize that there was another connection between himself and his new son. However, thinking about Ryan made him more anxious, and he fidgeted in his seat, desperate to be underway.
"Well, ma'am, I hope you folks have learned your lesson. Vehicles are a privilege, not a responsibility," Officer Harris said condescendingly, slowly ripping the ticket off of the pad and handing it to Sandy. "I hope all is well with your other son," he said, as he turned and walked back to his car.
All three of the Cohens waited in silence, until the officer had climbed back aboard his motorcycle and driven away.
"Dad?" Seth broke the stillness. "So, are we gonna sit here forever, or should we maybe head to the hospital? Since you sent the paramedics and all, that's probably where he's going to be."
"Seth!" both of his parents yelled, as Sandy started the car and eased back onto the road. Neither Kirsten nor Sandy could take any more of Seth's needling. They had known that he wouldn't like the decision to call the police and have them meet Ryan at the Crab Shack, but they also knew that the police could arrive sooner than they would have been able to. If the attacker was still anywhere around, or if Ryan was seriously injured, then the police would prove to be necessary. Besides, along with the police came the paramedics, and Kirsten wanted Ryan to get medical treatment as quickly as possible.
Knowing that he had just crossed the line of his parents' tolerance, Seth sighed exaggeratedly, grumbling about sickly sweet come-ons to the cops and badly-made parental decisions.
Kirsten almost defended herself to her son, but decided that she just didn't have the energy right now. It was late, she was tired, and she had no idea what to expect at the hospital. They still didn't know all that much about Ryan. He'd only been a part of their family for a short time, and he was still an enigma. It was hard to know how to read the boy. Kirsten knew that his former life had been filled with pain and uncertainty, and she ached to make that better. Sandy had suggested a few times that Kirsten read Ryan's file from Child Protective Services (CPS), but she had not yet had the courage. She tried to rationalize this by saying that Ryan would tell her the details when he was ready, and that it would be a betrayal of his trust if she snooped and found out the truth from a file. However, she knew that this was not the actual reason. She had not yet read the files because she was scared. She was scared to know how broken this boy truly was. She could see it and know it, but until she read it, in black and white, on legal court documents, with hospital reports and signed witness statements, she could pretend that it didn't really exist. Once she read that file, she would know it, really know it, and then she would have no idea how to help Ryan.
Not that she really felt like she was any help to Ryan right now, but at least she could think that she might be of some help. When she knew the details, she would know that she couldn't help, and that scared her.
She had been the one to insist on calling the police. Sandy had argued at first, as had Seth, but her husband had quickly given in, admitting that there were likely to be medical issues that should be treated as soon as possible. Sandy knew that Ryan had a legitimate and well-earned distrust of cops, and that he would not react well to their presence and authority, but he was too worried for Ryan's physical safety to be overly concerned with Ryan's emotional state. He had agreed to call the police.
Seth had been enraged. He had yelled to his parents that they were betraying Ryan's trust in Seth, and in themselves, but he had no control over the parental units. They would do what they decided to do, and they barely listened to Seth's arguments.
Ryan had sounded truly odd on the phone. When Ryan had said that he hadn't known his attacker, Seth had gotten the impression that Ryan was lying. Seth couldn't be sure why he thought this; since Ryan didn't exactly talk much, it was a lot easier to read his body language than his vocal inflections, but Seth still felt like Ryan knew the guy. That's why he'd been convinced that Luke and his water polo buddies had been the ones to beat up Ryan.
That was another thing! Ryan was totally self-sufficient, and he hated to rely on anyone or ask for assistance. If Ryan was calling for help, and asking to go to the hospital, then he had to be desperate. Seth knew that Ryan had his bike with him, and he had to be really hurt in order to decide that he couldn't get to the hospital on his own. Seth felt like Ryan had actually reached out and asked for help, but Seth was letting him down. Maybe he shouldn't have insisted on telling the parentals about the phone call . Maybe he should've just gone down to the Crab Shack, picked Ryan up, and called his parents from the hospital. Why hadn't he done that? Oh, yeah. He'd been scared, that's why. Seth had been too scared to handle this by himself, and he'd let Ryan down. Ryan had taken care of Seth since the first day, and Seth had finally had a chance to take care of Ryan, and he'd been too much of a wuss to do what needed to be done.
Seth couldn't wait to get to the hospital and apologize to Ryan.
Sighing in frustration, Seth turned to look out the window as Sandy took off down the road. They were only minutes from the hospital, and they were all eager to get there. The idea had been to swing by the Crab Shack first, hoping to catch Ryan and the cops there, and then head for the hospital if they had already moved on. Well, it would obviously be pointless to stop by the Crab Shack now. Officer Harris had taken up a precious seventeen minutes of their evening, and Ryan had been alone with the police for most of that time. Ryan didn't enjoy police.
I just hope Ryan wasn't too…well, Ryan when the cops showed up. It doesn't take a psychologist to know that Ryan has a deep mistrust of anyone in authority, and Ryan tends to act first and think later. Well, not always. He thinks a lot, and acts little. Well, that's not true either. Wait. Now I'm confused. Well, no matter how Ryan reacts in which situation, which I've apparently still got to learn, it's pretty certain that Ryan's not had a good evening. Which is why we've got to get there soon, so we can help.
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In the Emergency Room, Ryan was still strapped to a bed, and hands were still touching him. At least he was having some success in controlling his flight instincts, and it helped that everyone seemed to be trying to touch him as little as possible, but he still hated this entire process.
"So," the doctor continued, as he finished feeling Ryan's limbs for broken bones. "Do you remember just how you got all of these injuries?"
Still trembling, Ryan quietly and slowly nodded his head. He couldn't help but think about all of the other times that he'd been asked that question in an ER., and that the answer was almost always the same. Answer with as plausible a lie as you can. He'd heard a quote somewhere that he thought really fit well into his life: "The most convincing lie is hidden between two truths." Like when he'd told Seth why he needed help. Tell the truth, but leave out the important details.
"Mugged," he said quietly, hoping that the doctor would leave it at that, but not expecting him to.
Jeffries nodded silently, already knowing the answer. The police had told the ER personnel all of the pertinent information about Ryan when they brought him in, and they knew that he'd been attacked during a mugging. That wasn't in question. What everyone wanted to know was why he'd reacted so badly to the police presence. While Ryan had still been out of it, just after arriving at the hospital, Jeffries had asked the paramedics why they hadn't sedated the kid in the rig. They had responded that they had just gotten him onto the gurney and strapped in when he seemed to pass out. They agreed that he'd needed something while he'd been flailing with the cops, but the need had no longer existed, once they were finally in a position to give it."Do you know who it was?" he asked Ryan, not really expecting a response.
Ryan simply shrugged. He missed not knowing how and why he was hurt.
Ryan had known that his beautiful lack of memory was only temporary. It would all come back to him soon. Ryan had freaked out like this before, and he always had trouble remembering the previous events when he came to. It never lasted, no matter how much Ryan wanted it to. Sooner or later, Ryan would always have to remember, and that was never good.
Not remembering was more peaceful.
"Well," Dr. Jeffries said, as he stepped up to the head of the head of the bed, you don't seem to have any broken limbs. I do think that you've got a few broken ribs, though. Is it all right with you if I just check it out? I'll be as quick and as gentle as I can be." Dr. Jeffries still didn't really understand this kid, but it was painfully obvious that he hated to be touched. And, he was still terrified. He tried to hide it, but the kid was still trembling with fear.
Sometimes, I really hate this job, he thought to himself.
Receiving no answer from the wounded boy, Dr. Jeffries tried again. "Kid? How 'bout it? Can I check out your ribs for broken bones?"
"No need," he answered quietly. "They're broken. Three."
Sickened at this boy's knowledge, Dr. Jeffries sighed. "I've no doubt that you know what you're talking about, but I'm the doctor. I've still got to check you out. Okay?"
Closing his eyes again, Ryan simply nodded, almost imperceptibly, and he tensed up even further, preparing himself for the inevitable pain and invasion.
The doctor's cool hands started to feel down Ryan's chest. He winced and hissed in pain a few times, as the doctor pressed lightly on the few cracks, and his body stiffened to a painful degree as the doctor's hands began to move to the lower half of his chest.
Sensing his patient's increasing distress, Dr. Jeffries struggled to distract the boy. "So, you're name's Ryan, right? And you're sixteen? What were you doing when you got mugged?"
Receiving no answer, Dr. Jeffries hurried as quickly as possible to finish his physical examination, and tried another question. "So, do you have anybody we can call? Family? Friends? It's gotta stink to be here alone."
Without opening his eyes, Ryan simply shook his head, once to the left, and once to the right.
Who could he call? The Cohens have abandoned me, my mom kicked me out, Trey and Dad are in jail…There's no on. No one. I'm alone again.
"Okay," Dr. Jeffries' voice interrupted his thoughts. "You were right; you've got about three broken ribs. I don't think they're too bad, but we should get them x-rayed, just in case. You've got some serious bruising on your stomach, chest, legs, face, head, and…do you want to know your condition.?"
Ryan shrugged, a very small movement of his shoulders that still caused him to wince at a slight twinge of pain in his ribs.
Running a hand through his hair, Jeffries gazed down at this terrified boy. He still strained against his bonds, even though he was no longer actively fighting them. He shook with fear, and he was so pale. Jeffries knew that he could sedate the kid, but he wasn't fighting them anymore, and sedation just seemed like adding one more problem to many.
"Okay, so, in addition to the broken ribs and bruising on your…well, pretty much your entire body, you've also got a mild concussion. That, and your panicked state when you came in, were probably the cause of your memory loss earlier." If Jeffries had expected a response to this, he was disappointed.
"We're pretty sure that you've got a bruised kidney, which is better than a lacerated one, but we have to wait for lab results to come back. With a bruised kidney, you'll most likely have some continued pain for about a week or so, depending on the severity of the internal bruising, and there will be some back spasms…"
He was cut off by Ryan's quiet, "Yeah. I know."
Surprised that the kid had actually spoken, he waited for Ryan to continue. He should have known better.
"Okay, well, the lacerations on your forehead, cheek , and ear are pretty minor. They won't feel good, but they also won't cause any troubles. The worst part right now is that serious gash in your chin. You've pretty much sliced it open, Ryan, and it's clear to the bone."
At this, Ryan's eyes snapped open, and he looked at the doctor, without moving his head.
"What? Ryan?" When he received no answer, but Ryan continued to stare at him, Jeffries--unnerved at this unwavering and intense stare--cleared his throat and continued. "We're going to have to clean it out, and then stitch it up. We'll numb it up first, but it's gonna hurt, Ryan. Are you ready for that?"
"Are you gonna untie me?" His eyes never left the doctor's, while his face was still turned slightly away.
"I can't yet, Ryan."
"Why not. Don't you make the rules?" It wasn't so much a question, as it was an accusation.
"No, Ryan, I don't make the rules. If I did, you'd never have been tied down in the first place. But I didn't tie you down, and I can't untie you until we can be sure that you're not going to hurt yourself or others, and that won't be decided by us."
"Psych," Ryan whispered, finally looking away. He now stared blankly at his feet.
"Yeah," Dr. Jeffries responded, surprised--yet again--by this boy's intricate knowledge of things that no sixteen year old should understand. "They've gotta come down and check you out."
"Think I'll be put on a hold?" Ryan asked.
Jeffries noticed that Ryan's trembling had begun to lessen in the last few moments, and at least he was communicating with him now. Jeffries had no idea how long this communication would last, but he'd take it as a good sign, and he'd certainly try to keep it going for as long as possible.
"I can't tell you, Ryan, but I think that you're doing a good job of holding it together right now. If you can just calm down a little more, and try get that shaking under control, then I think that you might just convince that arrogant, closed-minded geek from psych that you just need to get out of the hospital."
Surprised at this support, Ryan turned his whole head to look at the doctor. Not voicing his question, he still managed to convey his meaning.
Grinning slightly, Jeffries nodded his head. "Yep. I want you out of here. I don't think you need psych. You're in a bad way, but you do better when you're not restrained. I understand that. It's kinda obvious. You're doin' okay, Ryan, we just need to calm you down a little more, and then the gigantic ego of a psych resident can come in here and declare you to be a normal teenager who was just mugged, okay?"
Ryan almost smiled, but stopped himself. He remembered that he still had to be stitched up before he could go anywhere, and they were going to do it while he was tied up. He had to try, one more time.
"Could, um, could we please just wait to stitch up my chin until after the psych consult?"
Jeffries just waited, figuring Ryan might say more if he got no response.
"It's just, like you said, I do better when I'm not tied up. I can take anything, as long as I'm not tied up." Not seeing the response he wanted in the doctor's eyes, he continued, sickened at the realization that he was begging, again, but unable to stop himself, desperate as he was to prevent this from happening. "Please, please, just let me be untied while you clean and stitch me, please. Let's wait, or tell the psych guy to wait, and then stitch me, and then let him see me. You can tie me down again after you finish. Please, please…" Ryan trailed off as he realized that Jeffries was unwavering.
Softly, Jeffries began explaining his inability to comply. "Ryan, it could still be hours before the guy from psych comes down, and we can't wait that long to treat the wound. We need to clean it as soon as possible, in order to prevent infection, and then we need to stitch it up, before the nerves die. We want to minimize scarring and facial paralysis. It's got to be done, and the sooner the better. As for making psych wait, I have no control over when they come and go--obviously--so I can't just undo your restraints and then put them back on again. I may not always believe in hospital regulations, but I do have to follow them. Ryan? I'm sorry, but it's just not a possibility, okay?
Defeatedly, Ryan closed his eyes and sighed, trying to calm the tremors that coursed through his every muscle. He had begun to relax around this doctor for a few minutes, but he was nowhere near relaxed anymore. He knew what was coming next, and he didn't know if he could handle it even if he wasn't restrained, but he was restrained, and he was going to have to do this.
"Fine. Just get it over with, okay?" he said quietly, giving in again.
Hating himself and his job just a little bit more, Dr. Jeffries turned to take the suture kit and the cleaning supplies from his nurse. The task of cleaning the wound was often left to a nurse, but Jeffries had decided that he was going to do as much as possible to help this kid, and he felt that Ryan responded fairly well to him. He didn't want to just hand him over to someone else. He'd do this all himself.
Sighing, he pulled his stool over to the head of Ryan's bed, and settled in next to him. Ryan still had his eyes closed, his jaw tensed, and his fists clenched.
Jeffries started to reach out to pull the pillow from behind Ryan's head and position his head more appropriately on the bed, but he caught himself just in time. He didn't think that Ryan would respond well to the sudden touch and action.
"Ryan," he said, "we need to get you lying flat here, okay? We need to take the pillow away, all right?"
STOP ASKING MY PERMISSION TO HURT ME! Ryan wanted to scream. Instead, he nodded meekly, raising his head slightly, so as to provide the doctor with access to the pillow. Jeffries removed the pillow, and he positioned the head lamp so that it shone directly on Ryan's chin.
Ryan felt the heat from the lamp almost immediately, and the light still hurt his head. He felt like he was about to throw up, but he breathed through the nausea and pain for a moment, until the lamp's brightness seemed to lessen a little.
Sensing Ryan's pain, Jeffries waited a moment, watching as the boy fought the nausea.
When he'd gotten past that first bout, Jeffries said, "Sorry about the bright light. I forgot about your concussion. That's gonna be an issue for a little while. I'll try to get this done as soon as possible. If you feel like you need to throw up, just let us know, and we'll get an emesis basin to you before you know it, okay?"
When Ryan nodded shakily, Dr. Jeffries slipped back into his comfortable, I'm-in-control-and-this-is-all-routine ER doctor mode. Some things just happen, without us thinking about them.
"Okay, Ryan, this is my faithful friend, Sheila, and she's the best R.N. there is. She's gonna be helping me take care of this chin, okay?"
Ryan opened his eyes slightly to glance at the nurse on his left. She, too, had pulled stool up to the bed, and she was looking down at Ryan with a slight smile. "That's right," she said sweetly, "I'm the best. You're so lucky, Ryan, to have the two best medical professionals available to help you. Dr. Jeffries here has done this many times, and he knows what he's doing. Don't you worry, Sweetie, we'll take good care of you."
Ryan's breath was now coming in shaky gasps, and he closed his eyes again. He didn't want to watch.
"Okay," resumed Dr. Jeffries, "the first thing we need to do is clean up this nasty cut on your chin. We're going to be as gentle as possible, but there's going to be some pain. We just need you to try to remember that we don't want to hurt you, okay? We're just trying to help you. We'll get this over with as soon as possible. Do you understand?"
Ryan nodded shakily, unable to trust his voice.
Jeffries looked over at Sheila, whose grim expression matched his own. They both knew that this kid had suffered enough already, and neither one of them wanted to hurt him anymore. Unfortunately, that was exactly what they were about to do.
Sheila handed the antiseptic sponge to Dr. Jeffries, without taking her eyes off of the young boy, who seemed to be younger by the second.
Dr. Jeffries took the sponge by its white, plastic handle, and dipped it into the antiseptic. "Okay, Ryan, here we go," he stated, as he reached out and touched the sponge to Ryan's sliced chin.
The sponge had barely made contact when Ryan bucked in agony, groaning through his clenched jaw.
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Acid burned through Ryan's face, pure fire searing straight through to the bone. Reacting without thought, Ryan struggled to get away, but he couldn't because he was still tied down, and God it hurt, so bad, what could he do to stop it? He was still reeling from the torture being applied to his chin when more hands touched him, pushing him down, keeping him there for the pain, and he struggled to prevent a scream.
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Instinctively, Sheila had reached out to bring Ryan's chest back down to the bed, while Jeffries pulled the sponge away from the tortured flesh. At Sheila's touch, Ryan jerked, attempting to get away, wrenching at the restraints. Sheila instantly pulled her hands off of Ryan, and she began to use her best mom-tone to soothe the tortured child.
When Ryan didn't respond, but continued to pull at his bonds, Dr. Jeffries became worried, and he started to try to explain the situation to Ryan. "Ryan! Ryan, listen to me!" he yelled, hoping to get through, even though the tightly clenched eyes and body told him that it was unlikely. "You've got to try to calm down. This isn't going to look good to the psych resident, please, Ryan, just breathe. Breathe, just breathe. That's it," he soothed, as Ryan began to calm down.
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As the pain eased from a sharp fire to a throbbing ache, Ryan became aware again of Dr. Jeffries and Sheila, and knew that the whole process had only just begun. He was struggling so hard to maintain control, praying that the psych consult would arrive soon, or that he would just pass out, or--yep, dying would be preferable.
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"Okay, Ryan, that's it," Jeffries continued. "Good job, kid, you're doing okay. I know that hurts. It's the alcohol, clearing out the infection that already exists in there. Germs multiply fast, and they don't like to be killed. They fight hard to defend themselves, and they cause pain as they fight back. I'm sorry, but you've got some gravel and what looks to be beach sand in there. It's not gonna come out too easily, but it has to be taken care of before we can stitch."
"Please," Ryan whispered shakily, "can't you numb it up a little? I thought you said you were going to?"
Sheila interrupted, before Jeffries could answer. This boy's torment was hard for her to bear, and she just had to comfort him, at least as much as was possible, given the circumstances. "Oh, Sweetie, we did. Unfortunately, nothing can really help the pain deep inside. The topical really doesn't do much, but it does help some, I swear to you."
Ryan didn't believe her. She was lying. They had not numbed up his chin at all. He knew it. He would have noticed.
Opening his eyes, gritting his teeth, he turned to Dr. Jeffries and demanded, "You lie. When did you numb up my chin?"
Not surprised that he couldn't remember being numbed, Dr. Jeffries tried to explain. "Ryan, when we first positioned you and the headlamp, do you remember a first rush of heat and nausea? That was only partly from the lamp. We applied the topical analgesic at the same time, using the lamp as a distraction, so that you wouldn't feel the pain of the application so strongly. I'm sorry that you thought we'd torture you unnecessarily. I should've thought to explain, afterwards. I promise that I won't do anything more without explaining it first, all right?"
Resigned, Ryan squeezed his eyes tightly shut, clenched his body so tightly that you could've bounced a quarter off of it, and gritted his teeth.
Dipping the sponge back into the antiseptic, Dr. Jeffries continued to explain his next actions. "Okay, Ryan, we're going to reapply the antiseptic. It's going to burn just as badly this time, but I need you to try to stay as still as you can, and take it for as long as you can. Okay?"
Ryan nodded tersely.
Dr. Jeffries gently reapplied the sponge to Ryan's chin.
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Oh, GOD, it's so intense! The fire just sears its way straight through to the bone, it's inside my skull, it's burning my whole face, uuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhhhhh, howmuchlongerhowmuchlonger, it's too much!
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Ryan screamed, a sound so filled with pain and despair that Sheila suddenly felt like she needed to throw up.
At that moment, Kirsten burst into the room.
"Ryan!" she yelled, racing across the cluttered space, shoving trays and supplies out of her path, as she homed in on her son…the realization almost stopped her, but only a small portion of the brain actually registered it, while the rest kept her driving towards the tortured boy on the bed. Wow. I don't know how or when it happened, but apparently, I consider him mine. Good.
She shoved both the doctor and the nurse out of her way, pulling the hateful orange sponge on the plastic white stick off of Ryan's face and out of the doctor's hand and flinging it to the ground in disgust.
"Ryan," she called gently, placing her hands on his cheeks, trying to bring his focus onto her. "Ryan, it's okay, we're here now. We're all her. Sandy and Seth and I. We're here. We're so sorry that you're in pain, but we're here, and we won't leave you. We're here with you, and we're staying with you. Please, Honey, shh, just open your eyes and look at me, I'm right here. That's it, Ryan, breathe. Good, Honey, good. Shh."
It worked. Kirsten's soothing touch and voice were bringing Ryan back to reality, the searing pain resuming its previous dull ache, and he finally managed to open his eyes and see her.
He was met with a teary grin, her hair slightly out of place. "Kirsten?" he asked shakily.
"Yes, Sweetie, it's Kirsten. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. We're so sorry we weren't here earlier. We were racing to the hospital, and Sandy--" she shot her contrite husband a glare-- "almost got us arrested for mouthing off to an officer, but we're here now Honey, and we're not leaving you. You're not alone. We'll help you through this."
Suddenly ashamed, Ryan looked away. He'd thought they'd abandoned him. They hadn't, though. They were here. But…why hadn't they come to get him themselves?
"Excuse me," Dr. Jeffries began, but he was met with such an intense glare from Kirsten that he decided that he should step back for a moment. A few seconds couldn't hurt, and this woman obviously had a calming effect on Ryan. Jeffries was just glad that Ryan had someone to help him through this. It was really going to be quite a painful process, and it would help to have a mother's support. He didn't think that this woman was Ryan's mother, but she'd do the job. He just wondered why Ryan had said he had no one to call. These people obviously loved Ryan very much. They were all clearly distraught over his pain and injuries.
"Kirsten," Ryan began, "Y-you didn't abandon me?" he asked in a small voice.
The tears finally falling, Kirsten cried, "Oh, Honey, no! No, we didn't abandon you. We couldn't, Sweetheart. You're ours. Don't you know that yet? You're ours. We're not letting you go."
Noticing the doctor again, she spun around. "YOU!" she called out. "Tell me what's going on with my son."
Ryan may have been in a lot of pain, but he didn't miss that. She'd called him her son. Did they really want him?
Ryan was too busy thinking about the possible ramifications of Kirsten's most recent revelation to listen to the doctor describe his injuries to the Cohens. He'd heard it all before, anyway.
He was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard Kirsten's tone change to indignant and demanding. "I don't care what your regulations require, you will release my son from these restraints, right now, or you will regret it in the morning. My father, Caleb Nichols, is a major benefactor of this hospital, and he will be very interested to know how his grandson has been treated--"
Ryan's plea cut her off instantly. "Kirsten, stop. Please. It's okay. Dr. Jeffries has been really great. He's…" Ryan was suddenly too exhausted to finish.
Kirsten relented, a bit, but she was still determined to remove the restraints. Seeing that the doctor was not going to do it, she began to do it herself.
Ryan watched in disbelief as the right wrist cuff was released, and he could suddenly move his whole arm. Lifting it to his head, he ran his hand through his hair, fighting the rapidly increasing urge to tear himself out of the bed and out of the room as quickly as possible. Just like always, the claustrophobia and terror increased as he was being released. It didn't make much sense, but that's the way it always was. Ryan thought that it had something to do with the taste of freedom, and the fear that he would lose it when it was so near his grasp.
Against the doctor's requests, Kirsten had already removed the second wrist cuff, and Sandy and Seth had each removed an ankle cuff. Ryan, suddenly free to move, had thought that he'd need to get up and out of that bed as quickly as possible, but that isn't what happened. Maybe it was the fact that the Cohens were with him, and that they hadn't abandoned him after all, or maybe it was the knowledge that Kirsten really seemed to feel like he was her son, or maybe it was just an overwhelming relief at being free, but Ryan simply had nothing more to give. He curled up on his side, facing Kirsten, and broke into quiet sobs.
Kirsten wasted no time in positioning herself on the bed and gathering the crying boy into her arms. She began to whisper soothing assurances, as she rocked him slightly, with his head in her lap.
Sandy stood back, watching his wife comfort their new son. She'd been so reluctant and nervous at first, uncertain about the wisdom of taking in a stranger and making him family, but she'd obviously overcome her initial reluctance. As Sandy watched, Kirsten pulled Ryan even closer to her, holding and rocking him as he shook with his sobs. She leaned down to where Ryan had his head in her lap, and her hair fell like a curtain, shielding Ryan and Kirsten from the rest of the world. Sandy stared in awe, at his beautiful wife and their second son, and fell in love with her all over again.
Kirsten continued to murmur quiet assurances until Ryan began to calm down. Remembering that Ryan had at least three fractured ribs, she began to maneuver Ryan into a straight position again.
Complying, Ryan sniffed, trying to hide his tear-streaked face. Never show a weakness, Sandy sympathized.
Staring at the restraints which were still attached to the bed, Ryan tried to shrink up into the middle. He took as a deep a breath as his ribs would allow, and whispered something to Kirsten. Unable to hear him, she leaned in closer, and he repeated it, this time a little louder.
"Thanks for untying me. It's okay. You can go ahead and tie me back down, again. I'm ready now."
Honey, NO!" cried Kirsten, causing Ryan to flinch instinctively. Pulling him closer to her, positioning herself in the bed, right next to him, Kirsten tried to reassure him. "No one is tying you up again, Ryan. That's over I'm sorry--we're sorry--that we weren't here earlier, and that this happened at all, but no one is putting these restraints back on you, ever. Do you hear me?" Getting no real response from Ryan, Kirsten turned to look at her husband and first son, the command clear in her eyes. Instantly, both Cohen men jumped to obey, each grabbing an ankle restraint and beginning to remove it from the bed. Kirsten moved to do the same with the wrist cuffs, but Ryan seemed unwilling to part with her, so she left the cuffs for her husband and Seth.
Just then, Dr. Jeffries reentered the room. Kirsten was surprised to realize that she had not even noticed that he had gone.
She tightened her grip on Ryan, who had tensed up considerably at the doctor's presence, and she glared up at him, silently daring him to insist that those hateful restraints be returned to Ryan's wrists.
Instead of discussing the restraints, the doctor moved straight to the injury.
Mr. and Mrs. Cohen, as you can see, Ryan's chin still needs to be cleaned. I'm glad you are here, because this is an incredibly excruciating process, and it is so much more helpful if the patient has a loved one to help him through it. Will one of you stay?"As the doctor mentioned the cleaning process, Ryan actually moaned quietly. Kirsten felt his shaking increase, and his breathing quickened. Not relaxing her tight grip, she said, firmly, "I'm staying."
Sandy said, "Me, too," as he moved to Ryan's other side and grasped his hand.
"Uh, guys?" Seth called, from where he was standing at the foot of the bed.
"Yes?" his parents replied, simultaneously.
"Uh, you know, Ryan, I love ya man, and all, but ahem, you know, blood, orange sponges with gross antiseptic, doctors…you know I don't deal well with all this man. I'm glad to see you're okay and everything, and I just thought, you know, I think you'd do well to have some parental time, how does that sound?" Seth had begun edging towards the door. "I think that I'm just gonna go head for the snack machine, get you some sugar and useless fat and calories, how does that sound. Or maybe I could walk down to the nearest Starbucks, it's only, what seven, eight miles away? I can do that, no problem, bring you some coffee, be back in no time--"
Cutting off his babbling, Ryan actually smiled and said, "Seth, you're turning green. Get out, before you faint and we're both patients."
Seth was gone, out the door, just like that.
Dr. Jeffries smiled. This kid had a light at the end of his tunnel after all. What a relief!
"Okay," Jeffries began, "We really need to get to work on that chin."
"Kirsten," Ryan began, clenching her hand tightly in his.
"Shh, Ryan, it's okay, Sandy and I are both here. We'll help you through this, okay?"
Sandy jumped in, still holding Ryan's other hand. "Don't worry, kiddo, we've gotcha. You're going nowhere, and neither are we. We'll stick with you, all the way."
Ryan was shaking harder now, and he spoke so quietly that they both had to lean in to hear him. "I-I don't think that I can do this. I have to s-s-stay still, and I don't think I can. Even with the restraints, I couldn't stay still. Maybe you should just--:
"Ryan, don't be silly," replied Kirsten. "We're here. We'll give you the strength you need. We know this hurts, and we'll be right here with you. You just hang on tightly to us, and squeeze our hands, and we'll make it. Okay, Sweetie?" Kirsten had been staring into Ryan's face as she spoke, hoping for some eye contact, but just happy that he hadn't physically turned away from them yet.
Everyone waited in silence for a few moments, as Ryan tried to calm himself. Finally, he said, "Okay," and pulled himself back down into the same position that he had been in before. At least there are no restraints, this time. I can take anything, as long as I'm not tied down.
Kirsten and Sandy took their positions on either side of the bed, each taking one of his hands. Sheila took up a place directly behind the head of the bed, and Dr. Jeffries was back on his stool. Ryan, just as tensed as before, gritted his teeth, and waited.
"Okay, Ryan," said Sheila softly, "here we go, Sweetie."
"Let's get those germs out of there, Ryan," said Dr. Jeffries with a sigh, and he picked up a new sponge, and dipped it into the antiseptic.
Author's note: Sorry it took so long. I've been cursed with a severe case of perfectionism. I can't just write and post. I write, proofread, proofread, proofread, ad infinitum, and this took a while. I also had a LOT of trouble writing the Cohens, Seth in particular, since I'm not so good with the funny. I live in Ryan's head, and no one else's, so I have a lot of difficulty in writing the others.
Plus, it's 2:24 a.m., and I have to get up at 6:30 to go teach, so I just wanted to get this posted. I'm gonna proofread again tomorrow, and I may remove it and repost it, if I've embarrassed myself with any gross errors. I just really felt the need to post tonight.
Yes, I see doctor's visits and hospitals as places of torture. My mom's an R.N., so it's nothing against the medical professionals. I just don't enjoy needing a doctor or being treated by one.
Thanks to Jenny (weumsel) for all of your support. I couldn't have done this without your nudging. :)
I also owe muchtvs a great thanks as well. I just might take you up on your offer.