Thanks for all the rave reviews. True there are some similarities to Mitch and Oliver, but I hope that those similarities ended in the last chapter. I hated Oliver and the entire storyline. I plan to take this in a different direction. In any case, enjoy the chapter. And please review. I don't own the O.C. or any of its characters.
Mitch was on his knees, gasping for air. His stick straight hair was disheveled and a small trickle of blood was running out of his nose. He wiped it with the back of his hand, but more kept coming down.
"What the hell is going on?" asked Caleb.
Ryan wriggled in Sandy's firm grip. He was breathing hard, winded from the exertion of trying to beat the crap out of Mitch. He didn't try to answer Caleb. He knew opening his mouth would get him into deeper water.
Seth and Summer ran out of the pool house when they heard the commotion, just as the patio door opened and Mr. Weider rushed to his son's side.
"Are you okay, Mitch? Can you get up?"
Mitch nodded and gingerly stood with the help of his father. "I- it's not Ryan's fault."
"It's not?" snorted Mr. Weider. "What? Did a dybbuk take over this boy and start using you as a punching bag?"
"Ryan, do you care to explain?" Kirsten asked. The tone of her voice clearly said it was not a request.
By now, everyone, including Julie was standing around the pool staring at the scene. Julie held her daughters at bay, even though Marissa was squirming to get near Ryan. Seth and Summer stood halfway between the pool house and everyone else, mouths hanging open. No one noticed them, and that was good for Seth, because they would ask why his face was ashen, as if all the blood was drained from his body. It was how he felt; weak and listless with a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Ryan was silent; the only sound coming from him was his rapid breathing.
"Ryan, apologize right now," demanded Sandy.
No response.
Sandy stared at his son in disbelief, and used every ounce of self-control not to shake him hard. Physical violence was not the way to get through to Ryan. He knew that, but what had gotten into him? What on earth could have provoked Ryan to revert to his old ways?
"Ryan, are you going to apologize?" Still no answer. Sandy turned to his wife, who shrugged helplessly. "Go to your room, Ryan," Sandy said in a deceptively calm voice.
Ryan stared at Sandy in disbelief. His room? No one had ever sent him to his room before. Dawn used to yell at him to get out of her line of vision, but she never actually sent him to his room. When she yelled at him to get lost, he'd either hide in his cubbyhole of a room or run out of the house and hang out somewhere until he thought it was safe to come back. Ryan's eyes searched the faces of everyone standing there, not sure what to do.
"Really," Mitch said, still breathless. "I dared him to do it. It just got out of hand."
"What are you talking about Mitchell?" Mr. Weider tenderly studied his son's face, feeling the nose for broken bones. He stopped when Mitch winced. "You asked this boy to punch you?"
Mitch's eyes were glued to Ryan and Seth. He started to open his mouth, but Ryan didn't wait to hear what he had to say. He tugged himself free of Sandy's grip and went to his room.
"I'm so sorry about this, Mr. Weider," Kirsten said. "I assure you this is not at all like Ryan. I don't know what go into him."
"Not like Ryan?" scoffed Julie.
Caleb placed a restraining hand on her shoulder and Julie took the hint. He didn't need his wife make things worse. Perhaps they could still salvage the lucrative deal he and Andrew Weider were working on as soon as things calmed down.
"Look," Mitch said, speaking easier now that he caught his breath again. "Ryan and I haven't gotten along since we met. Every time we see each other we egg each other on. It could have been me who threw the first punch, but it just happened to be Ryan."
"Why wouldn't you get along?" Sandy asked.
Mitch shrugged. "We just don't. Dad, do you think we could go home?"
Mr. Weider nodded. "We'll show ourselves out." He walked back through the kitchen and out through the front door, not even acknowledging the dinner Kirsten had coordinated.
As soon as Mitch left, Seth let go of Summer's hand. He hadn't realized how tightly he had been holding onto his girlfriend.
"Finally," she said. "Your grip was like a vise."
"Sorry," he mumbled. He watched Sandy and Kirsten excuse themselves and go inside.
"Ryan's in big trouble, isn't he?" Summer asked. "Didn't he promise your parents no more fights?"
"That was like a million years ago."
"Why was Mitch trying to cover for him?" Marissa asked, approaching her friends.
Seth shook his head and then nervously ran his hand through his hair. "I don't know." He wasn't looking at the girls, but he was watching his parents quietly conversing in the kitchen.
"Ryan doesn't even know Mitch," Marissa insisted.
"He does," Seth said, his attention turning back to the girls. "He met him at school. Mitch and I hang out."
"So what are you trying to say?" Marissa asked, putting her hands on her hips. "Ryan is jealous of your friendship with Mitch?"
Sandy was pacing back and forth in the kitchen, running his hand through his shaggy hair.
"Stop pacing, Sandy. You're making me dizzy."
"I just can't believe he punched this kid. What got into him?"
"I don't know. We need to talk to him, but first you need to calm down."
Sandy stopped pacing and leaned against the counter, staring out the window to the backyard. "Mitch is the new kid Seth has been hanging out with."
"I think so," agreed Kirsten, coming up behind her husband.
"Maybe he's jealous about all the time Seth and Mitch are spending together."
"We need to talk to him."
"Oh come on, Kirsten," Sandy said whirling around, "you know Ryan better than that. He'll never tell us what this is all about."
"I see that the more we talk about this the angrier you're going to get. So go upstairs, before you ruin any chance of having a civil conversation with your son."
"Are you coming?" Sandy asked.
"Of course!"
Ryan had considered leaving when he left the scene at the pool, but he was afraid if he left, they might not let him back in. So instead, Ryan did what Sandy had commanded and went to his room and waited. At first, he sat on the edge of his bed and looked down at his hands, wondering why they sometimes had a mind of his own. After ten minutes, when no one showed up to yell at him, Ryan lay back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, wondering how he would explain things to Sandy and Kirsten. He knew one thing for sure, he could not tell them the truth. That was impossible.
There was a soft knock on his bedroom door, but they didn't wait for an answer. Ryan scrambled into a sitting position, but didn't meet Sandy and Kirsten's eyes.
"You want to explain where that came from?" Sandy leaned against Ryan's desk, while Kirsten took the chair. "You hardly know Mitch. What could he have said or done to make you punch him like that?"
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, hastily, looking down at his hands.
"Look at us, Ryan!"
He swallowed hard and looked up at his adoptive parents.
"This isn't like you," started Kirsten.
His eyes slid back to the floor. From a distance, they heard the small pitiful cry of the baby. Kirsten sighed heavily and stood up. "I'll go get Christina."
"Let Seth take her," insisted Sandy.
"Seth is still outside with the girls. He probably won't hear her. I'll calm her down and be right back."
The fluttering in Ryan's stomach grew worse as soon as Kirsten shut the door behind her. Sandy's expression was just pissed. In his old life, with Roger and Dawn and Trey and A.J. or one of the other boyfriends that meant that someone was about to beat the shit out of him. While he was certain that was not about to happen with Sandy, he couldn't help being afraid of the verbal beating he was about to receive. Sometimes he thought that was worse than any of the cuts, bruises, or broken bones he had endured while he lived with his so called family in Chino.
"Why would you hit a guest in our house? We taught you better than that."
Ryan's eyes jumped to Sandy's face. He was talking as if Ryan had grown up in Newport under the Cohen's roof, as if the past year could erase the sixteen years in Chino before he had helped his brother steal a car.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled again.
Sandy's fist slammed down on the desk. "Sorry just won't cut it. You've got to fight your nature on this and you've got to talk to us. Make Kirsten and I understand."
Ryan's eyes darted around the room and suppressed an ironic laugh. Kirsten wasn't even the room. Why was he bringing her into this? As usual, Kirsten was busy with the baby.
"What do you want me to say?" Ryan shouted. "That I'm a screw up? I know that already. I messed up."
"Why?"
"What?"
"Why Ryan? Yeah, you've lost your cool lots of times. You beat up Luke Ward to protect Seth. You slugged Greg Fisher to protect me. You beat up a team full of jocks to watch Luke's back. When you strike, you're usually protecting someone? So who are you protecting and why are you protecting them?"
In the kitchen Sandy had assumed this was a jealousy thing, but as his words flew out, he knew he was on the right track. He was certain of it as soon as he saw the deer in the headlights look on Ryan's face.
"I'm not protecting anyone."
"Bull shit. Who are you protecting?" he insisted.
"The kid annoys me. He has from the first day I met him. Every time I want some alone time with Seth he's there. Today, he was rubbing it in my face, so I smashed his smug little—"
"Bull Shit," Sandy said again, but in a softer voice. "That was what I thought at first, but I don't believe it anymore. Is this kid bothering Marissa? Is he trying to horn in on your girlfriend? I can't help you unless you tell me the truth."
"It's not my problem if you won't believe me."
Ryan jumped up from the edge of the bed and looked around the room, trying to find a way to escape. Sandy was still leaning against the desk, which was right next to the door. If he tried to leave that way, Sandy was sure grab him on the way out. Ryan felt trapped as if the walls were closing in on him. Aside from the window, which was two stories up, there was no escaping Sandy's angry glare.
"I'll believe the truth when I hear it."
"So the truth is what you want it to be. You've made up your mind about me, just like Kirsten did when I first came to stay with you."
"That's not fair, Ryan."
"But it's true."
"No it's not."
"Sit down," ordered Sandy. "Sit," he commanded again, when Ryan just stood there. He got off from the desk and took a menacing step towards Ryan, who cowered from his adoptive father and sat back down on the edge of his bed.
Kirsten came back in, catching the last of their wordless exchange and looked from her husband to her son trying to catch up on what she missed.
"Ryan," she said softly. "Your behavior was absolutely inappropriate. If there's one thing we tried to teach you over and over again is that you should not use your fists to work out your differences."
Ryan studied the pattern in his carpet, but didn't say a word.
"Do you have anything that can help us understand?" Even though she had missed a lot, she sensed that Ryan hadn't told Sandy what the fight had been all about. "Did he punch you first?"
"No. I punched him. He didn't have a chance to hit me." He tried not to sound proud, but that night Ryan had learned that Mitch, much like Seth, was not a fighter. If Seth didn't see the light, then Ryan knew he was bound to use his fists again and it helped that he probably wouldn't get creamed while doing it.
Sandy didn't miss the satisfied tone in Ryan's comment. He just shook his head helplessly, not sure where to go from here. Ryan certainly wasn't talking.
"What are you going to do?" Ryan finally asked. He had been afraid to ask, because in the back of his mind he always feared that this was the thing that finally pushed Sandy and Kirsten over the edge and send him packing. The adoption papers they had signed last summer hadn't given him the security they thought it would.
Sandy and Kirsten exchanged glances. They had not gotten as far as discussing his punishment in the kitchen; they had been so intent on finding out what had been behind the outburst. Sandy felt like he was flying without a broomstick.
"For one," he said harshly, "you're going to call the Weiders and apologize to both Mitch and his father. And you're going to sound like you mean it."
Ryan looked at his feet. "What else?"
"You're grounded. Same as Seth."
"For how long?"
"Until you can open up and tell us the truth behind this whole fiasco."
Ryan jerked his head up, as if he wanted to cry out that it wasn't fair. But he never argued about how the Cohens punished him. He just took what they dished out without a word. Kirsten eyed her sandy-haired son and dared him to protest. She wanted him to argue like a normal teenager. She knew her husband was being unfair. Ryan knew Sandy was being unfair. But Ryan didn't accept her challenge.
The baby started crying again. Kirsten sighed and walked out of the room to get her. As soon as she left Sandy picked up the phone on Ryan's night table and handed it to his son.
"What?"
"You're going to call the Weiders and apologize."
"Now?"
"No time like the present."
"But Sandy, Mr. Weider will still be pretty pissed. Let them cool down first."
"Now." His voice left no room for argument.
Ryan took the phone from him. "Can I do this alone?"
"No," he said simply.
With a sigh, Ryan dialed information and found the Weider's number. He dialed and let it ring. He was about to hang up after three rings and tell Sandy that no one was answering, but on the fourth ring someone picked up.
"Andrew Weider."
"Mr. Weider, this is Ryan Atwood-Cohen." His voice shook and he hesitated a beat when he added the Cohen to his name. Sandy didn't miss it and wanted to put a reassuring arm around Ryan. He realized that his son would always question how far he could push them.
"What do you want?" the man said coldly.
"I wanted to apologize." Sandy nodded approvingly. "I – What I did was uncalled for and inappropriate and I'm sorry for my behavior. It won't happen again."
Andrew Weider just grunted at the other end of the phone.
"Is it okay if I talk to Mitch? I owe him an apology too." Ryan would have rather chewed on nails, than apologize to Mitch, but Sandy was towering over him, leaving him no choice.
Mr. Weider didn't say anything. But the line went silent on the other end and Ryan could only assume Mr. Weider was getting Mitch on the phone. Finally, he heard some scuffling and a hesitant, "hello."
"Mitch, it's Ryan. I'm calling to apologize." He resisted the urge to say, Sandy is calling to make me apologize, because he knew that would only rile Sandy.
"Okay."
"So, I'm sorry about earlier tonight. I shouldn't have hit you."
"But you're not really sorry, are you?"
Ryan looked up at Sandy and realized he couldn't hear Mitch's end of the conversation. "True."
"You'd do it again, if you could."
"Probably."
"So is your dad standing over you?"
"Yes."
"I thought so."
"So can we call it a truce?"
"Is that what you want?"
"No," admitted Ryan. What he wanted was for Mitch to stay out of Seth's life, but he couldn't say that with Sandy hanging around.
"So we're back to square one."
"I guess so. Sorry." He hung up the phone and looked up at Sandy. "Satisfied?"
"Not really. I wish you could open up to me." He ruffled the top of Ryan's head affectionately. "Get some rest, kid. We'll talk about this more in the morning."
Inwardly, Ryan groaned.
Ten minutes later, Seth quietly knocked on Ryan's door.
"They haven't come charging up to me, demanding to know the truth, so I assume you didn't tell them anything about the marijuana."
"That's right," Ryan said. He was looking through his backpack, double-checking he had everything and that all his homework was done.
"I guess I should thank you."
"Just stop doing the drugs."
"You didn't have to hit him. I mean Mitch has nothing to do with it."
"He admitted it. He's your supplier. What did you expect me to do?"
"You don't have to do anything, Ryan. This is not your problem. This is my problem and it's not a problem. Just stay out of it."
"I can't."
"Why get yourself into trouble? I mean, what did they do?"
"Ground me."
"For how long?"
"Indefinitely."
Seth raised his brows and whistled softly. "Don't help me out. It's not worth cutting your life short like this."
"If I don't, then who will?" Ryan asked.
"You just don't get it," Seth cried, his voice rising. "I don't need your help." He turned on his heels and left Ryan helplessly alone.