Disclaimer: The O.C. is property of Fox.
Author's Note: Thank you for all the reviews so far, I appreciate it.
The sun was beginning to set as Arturo walked the last couple of blocks to the garage and with each step, he felt more and more like the world's worst friend. He knew he shouldn't have let Ryan take the car alone, if at all. He was a good kid, smart and considerate. He had that knack of being able to walk the fuzzy line between being popular with both guys and girls and somehow he managed to get on with kids his own age and adults. Of course, there were people who didn't like Ryan much; generally they were sleeping with his mother, but the men who chose to express it through violence generally didn't do so more than once. Ryan had his mother's temper and just enough muscle to back it up when his short fuse blew. Ryan usually came off worst, but well enough to make it clear that a second round was not worth the effort. Until A.J. came along, who was just huge.
Like the rest of his family, Arturo never understood why Dawn was attracted to someone like that; perhaps she thought he would protect her from the world and maybe he could be a good man, when it suited him. Unfortunately, for Trey and Ryan, A.J. wasn't big on sharing. Being a few years older and out of school, Trey had a few options. So, even if some of them weren't technically legal, after all this was Chino, Trey had done the smart thing and got himself out of the house as soon as he could. Ryan had stayed. Most of the time, A.J. tolerated him; those times he didn't Ryan could often be found in temporary residence on Arturo's couch. Eva liked him, Theresa would have been more than happy to have let him buddy up in her room and Arturo always welcomed the chance to have the house gender lines evened up, even if only for a short while. It usually only took a few days for Dawn to talk A.J round and Ryan then always went back, without question. Over the last few months before he and Trey had gotten themselves arrested, Ryan's stays had become longer and more frequent and Arturo had begun to miss having him around. He'd have laid money down that Eva and Theresa felt the same. Arturo knew if anything had happened to Ryan, Theresa was going to kill him. He quickened his pace.
Seth tried not to look too relieved as he waved his to grandfather's car as it pulled out of the Cohen's drive way and began its twisting ascent towards the other end of town. He let out a deep breath and cast his eyes skyward.
"Thank you, God. If I live to be a hundred, I will never overeat at Thanksgiving again."
"Public humiliation, fantastic awkwardness, parental debauchery and marital breakdown. Who says you guys don't know how to celebrate a holiday?"
Seth turned round to see Jimmy Cooper standing in the doorway with an inane grin on his face. He returned the grin,
"I like to think that it was in true spirit of the forefathers first meal together. A beautiful melding of disparate cultures; all hating each other in their own special way." Seth walked back up the drive to meet him and leaned against one of the pillars, letting out a disgruntled sigh,
"Sorry tonight sucked."
"Coulda been worse. At least the Dolphins kicked ass." Jimmy smiled gently at Seth, picking up on the kid's concealed low mood. Seth returned the briefest of smiles in acknowledgement, feeling the onus of the evening's forced cheerfulness beginning to catch up with him.
"And the company didn't suck," Rachel chirped as she joined them, juggling a few cartons of Chinese food as slipped on her jacket. "Do you mind?" she asked Seth, indicating the greasy white boxes, "I have this thing about noodles for breakfast."
"Hey, me too." said Jimmy, in a mixture of surprise and admiration.
"Go right ahead," said Seth, wrinkling his nose, "Although you should probably talk to someone about that, it's not healthy."
"And juggling two girls is?" said Rachel with a wry smile.
"I see your logic and admire it."
"Pick one. They'll come back."
"How do you know?"
"You have your father's charm," said Rachel sincerely to Seth. He looked down at the floor, embarrassed. "But fortunately not his eyebrows," she continued, sensing Seth's mood, "Let's hope they die with him, hey?"
"Amen to that," Jimmy agreed before turning to Rachel, "We should make a move. Do you need a ride?"
"No thanks, I have my car. "
"That's a relief, mine's been repossessed."
"You want a ride?"
"Well, since you offer."
"Smooth. Very smooth," said Rachel, amused. She nodded her head over to where her car was parked on the edge of the driveway, "Come on. I'll drop you off."
"Thanks."
"Nice meeting you, Seth," she said as she made her way down to her car.
"You too," he replied.
"'Night, kid," said Jimmy as started after her, "Thank your parents for us, will you?" Seth nodded in response,
"No problem."
Jimmy stopped and turned round as Rachel got in the car, "And, hey, if Marissa calls, tell her she's grounded."
"Will do."
Seth watched as Jimmy slid into the passenger side and shut the door. He waited until the car was out of sight before standing up straight and headed into the house, letting out a quiet sigh as the telephone began to ring.
After four rings, Ryan lost his nerve and hung up. After a moment's thought, he turned off the phone. He didn't want anybody calling to check up on him just yet. He'd think about it again once the dull throbbing in his head and the constant twist of razor sharp pain pulsing through his arm had subsided. If it wasn't for the fact that he felt sick, he have been pleasantly surprised; he'd gotten off more lightly than he'd previously suspected. His ribs were sore and he was wheezing slightly, but not painfully, so he knew they weren't broken. His arm definitely was. In the short time Ryan'd been out, it had swelled to twice normal size and there was an ugly bruise emerging just down from his elbow where it had taken the full force of the crowbar. After coming to, he'd momentarily forgotten and sat up, unthinkingly putting his hands down as he tried to get to his feet, an error of judgement only marginally less idiotic then agreeing to drop the car off in the first place. When Ryan came to for the second time, he didn't repeat his mistake. Now he was sitting with his back against the garage's chain link fence, trying to ignore the pain and cold sweaty feeling in his body whilst he considered his next move. His back was soaked through, his chest was a little too tight comfort and his nausea was increasing with each passing minute. He should really call the Cohens.
Sandy was going to kill him. Kirsten would be disappointed. Caleb was going to gloat. And as for Julie, the Überbitch of Newport, she was probably going to ban him from seeing Marissa ever again. Of course technically, she'd done that before, pretty much every time she'd seen Ryan within talon distance of her daughter, but this time she'd have physical proof that the boy from Chino was a hooligan. On the other hand, the issue of him and Marissa was almost certainly redundant given the course of events at Theresa's house and the fact that he'd snapped at her for lying to him about being allowed to come along to Chino.
Fair enough, Ryan was fully aware that he'd told her to take the Cohen's car back to Newport, without arguing, but he didn't really expect her just to go off sulking like she had. Even when the guys at the garage were laying into him, he'd half- hoped, half-expected even for Marissa to show up. But deep down, Ryan knew Marissa was just a little too proud, a little too self-centered even, to stick around after he'd chided her. He was angry with her for not caring enough to go to his rescue like he'd gone to hers in Mexico and angry with himself for being so bothered by it. Ryan wasn't stupid, he wasn't naive. He recognized that much of Marissa's attraction to him was based on the fact that her mother considered him to be so far from the right side of the tracks that she couldn't even see them. Unfortunately, Ryan was also an optimist. He couldn't help it; he just had an irrepressible tendency to look on the bright side of life, to see the goodness in people, even when he shouldn't. Perhaps the Atwood propensity to be attracted to people no good for them was genetic.
Ryan smiled in spite of himself, "That would be just perfect."
"Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, Atwood." Ryan looked up, relieved to see the voice belonged to Arturo. He watched his friend's face blanch as he processed the sight of Ryan's twisted arm and bloodied face, "You look awful, man."
"Come to kick me when I'm down?"
"I'm serious."
"Yeah, so were they." Ryan closed his eyes and leant back against the fence. The dizzy feeling was getting worse. Arturo came and knelt down beside him. "What did they use?"
"Crowbar," said Ryan with trademark stoicism.
Arturo winced involuntarily at the thought of it, "Your girl gone for help?"
"Not exactly."
"What do you mean? Where is she?" Arturo asked as he gently pushed Ryan's matted hair back to examine the cut on his friend's head.
"Newport, I hope," Ryan winced as Arturo's fingers caught in a tangle of his hair, "Marissa left, just after we left you."
" So you've just been sitting here alone?" Arturo questioned, sharply.
"I'm okay."
"Yeah, you look fantastic. Deformity's a good look for you." Arturo sighed. Spying Sandy's cell phone lying next to Ryan he picked it up and switched it back on. "It's working," he said, surprised, "Why didn't you call me?"
"Theresa would have killed you."
"I can handle Theresa."
"No one should have to," said Ryan, trying to lighten the mood, but Arturo didn't smile.
"What about the guys you live with now?" he asked.
"I was going to, I did, but..." Ryan trailed off. He couldn't even rationalize to himself why he didn't want to involve the Cohens, let alone to someone else. Arturo was unimpressed.
"But what? Ryan, they're like family, right?"
"I guess."
"So, I'm sure they're going to want to know you're okay," Ryan gave him a look. "Or, in this case, you know, not."
"It's complicated," sighed Ryan.
"I'm going to make it simple. What's the number?
"Don't call them," Ryan said, wishing harder with each passing moment that this was not his life.
"Take a look at yourself, man. You've got to go get yourself checked out. Might as well be somewhere half decent."
Ryan closed his eyes. The dizzy feeling hadn't passed and he was beginning to feel more and more tired.
"Ryan?" The sound of Arturo's concerned voice made him focus. He made a decision. "Take me to General. We'll call them from there."
Arturo looked less than convinced at Ryan's suggestion. Unfortunately, he knew that the Atwoods were born stubborn. He sighed, "Promise?"
"Promise." Ryan replied. Seemingly satisfied, Arturo slipped the cell phone in his pocket.
"Come on, let's get you up." Arturo took hold of Ryan's good arm as he awkwardly got his feet under him.
"Slowly does it, okay?"
"No arguments here," replied Ryan, grimacing as the pain in his arm kicked up a notch. Arturo put his hand on his back to help him up, then suddenly withdrew it with an utterance of surprise, his hand slick with red.
"Christ," he muttered, his face a mixture of fear and concern. Ryan looked at his friend in surprise as he realized that the source of the bleeding must be him. He been so aware of the pain in his arm, he hadn't even considered that the clammy feeling down his back might be actually be blood. Now he understood, he felt sick and suddenly weak, as he let Arturo lean him gently forward to investigate the source.
"Is it bad?" he asked, already suspecting the answer but still hoping for a different one.
"Bad enough." Arturo carefully let Ryan lean back against the fence before retrieving the cell phone from his pocket. Ryan's head was swimming, but he still felt the need to protest.
"Don't call Theresa,"
"I won't." Ryan sighed and closed his eyes, glad that Arturo was here, relieved to have the decision about what to do next taken out of his hands. He was finding it hard to think straight and waves of tiredness were washing over him in a rhythm as constant as the pain pulsating though his body. The world and everything in it seemed suddenly very far away. By the time his friend had called for the ambulance, Ryan had blacked out.