Back in the Hole Chapter 7: Helping Hands, an o.c. fanfic

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: Hi. Sorry. I've been really, really blocked on this. I wanted to get the hospital procedures right, and my mom--who is a Registered Nurse--couldn't help me, this time. The ER is not her area of expertise. She's an OB nurse, taking care of the newborn babies. I had to call around to my local hospitals to get the procedures. They helped me out, quite graciously, but they also told me that these procedures vary by hospital and region. So, if something doesn't ring true for you, that would be the reason why! :)

Anyway, I'm halfway through with the next chapter, so it shouldn't be nearly as long of a wait this time.

Back in the Hole
Chapter 7
Helping Hands

This time, when the doctor placed the antiseptic sponge to Ryan's chin, Ryan wasn't tied down. He knew that, if he really, really needed to, he would be able to grab the sponge and pull it away from his chin. Just knowing that he had that power made it a little easier to take. Suddenly, it was easier to withstand the flamethrower attacking his face, because he could stop it if he had to. This power gave him a little bit of the strength necessary to withstand the pain. Logically, Ryan knew that the procedure had to be finished, and that knowledge helped, too.

The best part, though, was knowing that he wasn't alone. The Cohens were here. They hadn't abandoned him, after all. They'd called the cops because they were scared for him, and they'd wanted to protect him, and not because they were sick of the trouble that he caused. They had rushed to the hospital, gotten a ticket, and almost gotten arrested, all because they wanted to be there for Ryan, to help him.

Kirsten had called him her son. Her son. That meant more to him right now, than anything else. Sandy had been the one to bring him home, so Ryan knew that Sandy liked him. Seth had been desperate for a friend, so Ryan knew how Seth felt. But Kirsten had been hard. She'd relegated him to the boat house when he'd first arrived, because he was a stranger, a criminal, a violent kid from Chino, and he might hurt her or her family. Kirsten was the one that he felt the most uncomfortable around, and she now felt that he was her son.

Amazing.

He suddenly felt foolish for having thought that they'd abandon him. They were good people, and they'd taken him in when they didn't have to, and they'd spent so much time and energy on him, and he'd doubted them.

And Kirsten saw him as her son.

Unbelievable.

His own mom knew that he was her son, and she didn't care. How many times had he been hurt, only to have her ignore him? She'd told him it was his fault, told him not to bother her, and even laughed at him. This was his mom.

But Kirsten was here. She fought for him, cried for him, and helped him.

And she called him her son.

This was better.

Much better.

Now, when the acid burned into his chin, he had Kirsten and Sandy to help him. They were each holding one of his hands, and they both murmured soothing phrases as he writhed and moaned in pain. They squeezed his hands, holding tightly, but not restraining him, and they helped him to withstand the doctor's treatment. They weren't letting go.

And Ryan held their hands. He grabbed hold and squeezed their hands, feeling that these hands were going to help him. These hands weren't holding him down. They were making sure that he knew that he wasn't alone.

He could stand it, because he had their hands to help him.

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Sandy was working really hard to keep himself from crying. Ryan was obviously in so much pain, and Sandy would have given anything to take this pain for him, but it was impossible.

It's the parents' curse. We accept the responsibility to keep our kids from pain and suffering, but we can't, no matter how hard we try. Sometimes, they're gonna suffer, and we can't stop it. The worst part is having to be there for it, and watch it happen. Of course, I could be a coward, and leave the room. That way, I wouldn't have to watch him suffer. But what kind of parent would I be then? When we can't keep the pain from our kids, we still have a job to do. We have to provide comfort, and we also have to teach them how to handle it and move one. Well, I'm trying to provide the comfort. I'll see how well that goes before I try to help him handle it and move on.

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Kirsten surprised herself. She'd broken down and cried a little, earlier, when she'd first seen Ryan suffering so badly, strapped to a bed and obviously terrified, but she didn't feel like crying right now.

Right now, all she felt was determination and anger. Determination to get Ryan through this. Anger at the doctor and the hospital for strapping her son down to the bed. Determination to ease Ryan's pain. Anger at the person who'd hurt him. Determination to see that this person was caught and punished. Anger at the system that would probably let the person go. Determination to make Ryan see that he deserved better. Anger at Ryan's mother and father, and even at his brother, Trey, for making Ryan believe that he could so easily be abandoned. Determination to make Ryan see that he had a new family now.

She would help her son.

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Dr. Jeffries hated what he was doing, but he did know that it was necessary. The change in this boy, since his family had arrived, was amazing. While no longer strapped down, Ryan was actually struggling less than he had been previously, even though the pain was just as--if not more--intense than before. It was amazing what love and support could do.

Never underestimate the power of family.

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Finally, Dr. Jeffries pulled the sponge away from Ryan's face for the last time, sighing in relief. "Well, Ryan, that's it with the antiseptic. That part's finished."

Ryan took a shaky breath, not releasing Sandy's and Kirsten's hands, and he nodded slightly He still hadn't opened his eyes, and Jeffries thought he saw some moisture leaking from one corner.

Mr. and Mrs. Cohen looked exhausted. While the cleaning had only taken a few minutes, it had obviously sapped them of their energy. Thankfully, they still seemed to have quite a lot of strength left. They were going to need it. This wasn't over yet.

"Okay, folks, here's what's next. We're going to have to stitch up the chin now. I--"

Before he could finish, Kirsten cut him off. "Look, Doctor, I don't mean to be rude, but I'd like--"

"Already taken care of," Dr. Jeffries interrupted with a smile.

"What?" Kirsten asked, confused.

Once you said that you were Caleb Nichols' daughter, I knew that any old ER doc wouldn't be good enough to stitch up your son's chin. When I stepped out, I called for our best plastic surgeon. Dr. Kostanza will be arriving any moment, and he'll stitch up the gash."

"Oh," Kirsten replied, a little ashamed at the blatant name-dropping that she'd resorted to, but not regretting it. She'd do whatever she had to in order to protect her family.

She thought of an interview she'd once heard with the old actor, Carroll O'Connor. Someone had criticized him for giving his son a job on his TV show, "In the Heat of the Night," claiming nepotism. His response was something along the lines of, "Hell, yes, I believe in nepotism. What the Hell good is money, fame and power if I can't use it to help the ones I love?" She'd been amused at his refreshing honesty, and also touched at his obvious devotion to family. That's when she'd realized that he had a point, and that it was right to use her position to help her family.

"I'm sorry," she told Dr. Jeffries. "I'm sure that you're an excellent doctor, and I thank you for taking care of my son, but--"

"No need, no need," Dr. Jeffries broke in with a laugh. I can see how important family is to you, and I admire that. I freely concede that Dr. Kostanza is a much better plastic surgeon than I am, and I'd want the best to work on my son, as well."

"Thank you," Kirsten repeated, smiling at the man. She was very grateful to him, both for his help, and for his understanding. She was drawn back to Ryan when he tightened his grip on her hand and whispered her name.

"What, Sweetie?" she asked him, looking down into wide, fearful eyes.

"Surgeon?"

"Oh, no, don't worry. There's not going to be any surgery, just stitches, right Dr. Jeffries?"

"Absolutely, Ryan," Dr. Jeffries agreed. "We just want the people who know the most about facial nerves. The work that he can do will minimize scarring."

At the boy's shocked glance, Jeffries quickly amended his statement. "Scarring is unlikely, Ryan, once we've got Kostanza in here. And besides, even if there is a scar, it will be slight, and Kostanza can take care of that, as well. Lasers are truly amazing.. If we can remove a tattoo, we can surely take care of a chin scar."

Just then, the door opened, and two doctors rushed in, clearly in the middle of some argument.

One was tall and thin, and he seemed angry. His voice was louder than the other doctor's voice, and he was yelling as they entered. "And I'm telling you that this boy was my patient first, and that you will wait."

The other doctor, not quite as tall, nor as thin, seemed almost amused, allowing the first doctor to lead the way into the room. His voice seemed calmer and less angry, but he was also clearly dedicated to his side of the argument. "That's all well and good, Dan, but I'm the one with the money-making job here, and I believe that I'll get my way before long. Now, would you like to continue this argument in front of this fine family, or shall we just leave it at this, and let you walk out with your tail between your legs?"

As the first doctor began to splutter in rage, the second man stepped forward to Ryan and the Cohens, and he extended his hand to Ryan. "Hello, I'm Dr. Kostanza, and I can see that you're in need of my services," he introduced himself with a grin.

Ryan released Sandy's hand from his own right one, and nervously shook the doctor's. As Dr. Kostanza spoke quickly with Sandy and Kirsten, Ryan watched as Dr. Jeffries took the other doctor by the arm and led him out of the cubicle, still sputtering in anger as they went.

Ryan had a pretty good idea of who that other doctor had been, and he was glad to put off the psych consult for now. He was still shaken up, after the antiseptic, and he needed to calm down a little, before he could answer the dangerous questions to come.

"Well," Dr. Kostanza said, "I'm going to need to take a look at that chin of yours, Ryan."

Kirsten squeezed his left hand in her right, and got up off of the bed, in order to let the doctor examine Ryan. As she did so, she had to release his hand from hers, and Ryan let it go with a little trepidation.

Ryan tensed up again, readying himself for the other man's touch on his face. But when he felt the doctor's hands on his chin, he again realized how much easier it was to take. Now that he wasn't tied down, he could handle almost anything. He was not powerless.

Of course, it helped that Dr. Kostanza's exam didn't really hurt all that much. He had to touch the surrounding areas a little bit, and he stretched the skin slightly, but it could have been much worse.

"Okay," Dr. Kostanza said, "This won't be a problem. It's really pretty straightforward. I'll simply stitch up the chin, and then we'll bandage it. We'll keep an eye on it for a few weeks, and then we'll remove the stitches. You'll have to stay out of the sun, completely, for six weeks, to minimize any potential scarring, and then we'll see what it looks like. If there's any need for further treatment, we'll take care of it then. But don't worry; your face will be back to normal in no time." The doctor grinned kindly at Ryan, and Ryan was actually able to manage a small grin in return.

"I'll be back in just a moment, and then we'll get started," Dr. Kostanza said, as he left the room.

Kirsten sat back down on the bed, next to Ryan, and took his hand in hers again. "So," she said, "this is almost over. We'll get your face stitched up, and then we'll take you home."

At the mention of home, Ryan suddenly remembered what had gotten him here in the first place. In the pain and terror of having the gash on his chin cleaned, Ryan had again forgotten the trauma that had gotten him into this situation in the first place.

A.J.

A.J. would not let Ryan get away with this. Being in the hospital was no excuse. He still had to deal with A.J. Plus, he still had the psych evaluation to get through, as well.

Sensing Ryan's change of mood, Kirsten leaned in closer. "Ryan?"

"I'm fine, Kirsten," he said, his tone flat. Turning to Sandy, he asked, "Can you help me out with the psych eval? I'd like to get it over with as soon as possible."

"Psych eval?" Kirsten questioned, confused.

Understanding what must have happened earlier, Sandy was hit with a lead weight of guilt. Ryan must have freaked out when the paramedics had arrived to take him to the hospital. Seth had been right. It was a bad idea. They should've just gone to the Crab Shack to pick him up themselves, and they could've spared Ryan some pain.

There'd be no living with Seth after this. He could be an unrelenting gloater when he was right.

"Yeah, kiddo, I'll see what I can do," he responded, patting Ryan on the shoulder.

"Excuse me!" Kirsten called in frustration, as her husband headed out of the door. "I'd like to know what's going on here!"

"Kirsten, I kinda freaked out a little when the cops showed up," Ryan explained softly, his eyes not meeting hers. "I don't remember much, but I know that I fought them, and they str-strapped me d-down on the stretcher--"

"Shh," Kirsten interrupted, gently smoothing Ryan's forehead. "It's okay, Sweetie, I understand. I'm so sorry that you were scared. We'll take care of everything now. So, you still have to be questioned by a psychiatrist?"

Calmed some, Ryan took a deep breath, and slowly met Kirsten's eyes. "Yeah. I just want to get it over with. I know that Sandy can't make them drop it, but it'll help to have you guys here when he questions me."

Kirsten couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her son had probably experienced a panic attack, and in response they strapped him down. In addition to that indignity, they were now hinting that he was crazy? This was just nuts.

Sandy returned, bringing the tall, angry man with him, and Kirsten felt Ryan stiffen next to her, his head lowering, his eyes remaining on the doctor.

"I'm Dr. Townsend, and I'm the psychology resident here in the hospital. I understand that your son was combative when he was picked up by the police and the paramedics, and an evaluation is standard hospital procedure." Not waiting for a response from anyone, he turned to Sandy and said, "As I've already told you, this conversation is to be between the minor and myself. You and your wife will have to leave."

Smiling his best lawyerly smile, Sandy took Kirsten's free hand in his and replied, "That's fine, but he's my son, and we'll be staying if he wants us to." He turned to look reassuringly at Ryan, asking, "So, kiddo, what'll it be? Are we in or out?"

Seeing Dr. Townsend's angry glare, Ryan knew that he'd be better off not angering the doctor further. "I'll be okay, guys, thanks."

"Okay, Ryan, but we'll be right outside if you need us," said Sandy, patting Ryan gently on the foot.

Kirsten leaned in to kiss him on the forehead, saying "Sweetie, everything'll be okay. You'll see."

He smiled up at her, but she noticed that the smile didn't reach his eyes. She realized that it hardly ever did. The only times that he'd really seemed happy were when he was laughing with Seth. Well, at least we've done one thing right. These boys were truly meant to be brothers.

Sandy and Kirsten left the room.

Wizard1: Thank you so much for your reviews! You made me laugh and smile.

aoife: Wow. I don't know what to say. Your review meant so much to me. You actually made me cry. I don't know that I deserve such praise, but I really appreciate it. I'm a big fan of angst stories, and I read one by weumsel recently that really affected me. I couldn't figure out how to tell her what she made me feel, and you put it into perfect words for me. "I still have snakes in my stomach from reading that so I have to go and do something cheerful and get the disturbing images out of my head." It means a lot to me that I might have made someone else feel this, after reading my words. Thank you. You truly made me month.

benzbabidoll: You also made my month. Your praise is overwhelming.

weumsel: You know how I feel about you. I couldn't have gotten through this without your support. You're fantastic. Thanks, Buddy! :)

To literally everybody else, thank you so much, for each and every review. You are all really great people, and I thank you for reading my story. I'm really glad to have found fanfiction.