THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE COHEN

By Allegra

Author's Ramble: Um, not much to say before this one but a chapter wouldn't be complete without a ramble. Big thank you if anyone has voted for me in the Citrus Awards & a massive thank you to all of my luscious reviewers. You're the greatest! I'm so glad to be amidst such considerate & supportive company. I hope you enjoy the chapter.

PART 8 : RELEASE

The days melted into nights and back again, the tides ebbed and flowed, visitors came and went as the instruments supporting Ryan's life were gradually removed. Most of the extra electrodes were removed from the teenager's chest and, as he regained strength, Ryan was allowed to eat properly, instead of being given his essential vitamins through an unwelcome tube. After several days, he was moved to a general ward where he maintained stony silence to avoid conversations with his fellow hospital inmates.

Ryan's memories had been playing hide and seek with him for the past five days or so. They would flash before him in Technicolor only to retreat as soon as he tried to make sense of them. It was a frustrating position which Ryan found almost unbearable to endure. There was no warning as to when a memory might surface – from looking at a cup, while he was staring into space, or while a nurse changed a dressing. It was partly because of their erratic appearance that Ryan stayed quiet. He wanted to be ready when the next one hit him.

He felt bad for the Cohens and Marissa. Someone had visited him every day and he could tell from the expectant expressions on their faces as they arrived that they were hoping there'd be some improvement. Every day had been a disappointment for all of them and Ryan had been afraid to tell them about these flashes of light he was experiencing. What if that's all they were? What if he was doomed to live the rest of his life without remembering anything about who he was or where he came from? It didn't bear thinking about.

Until today, Ryan had thought his life couldn't be any worse than lying in this damned bed, recovering from injuries he couldn't remember getting, talking to people he couldn't place and thinking about what would become of him. Then, the doctor had told him with a smile that he could go home the next day. His sojourn in the juvenile detention centre had been ended abruptly when the Cohens agreed to take Ryan into their custody.

Kirsten had reminded him of the days he had already spent living in their pool house, although Ryan could only nod in simple acknowledgement. He couldn't picture the place she referred to, even if his life depended on it. Now, the harsh reality of how much worse the situation could get was beginning to dawn on the hapless teenager. Instead of lying in a bed feeling sorry for himself, he had to walk around town, a town probably full of people who had an advantage over him – remembering him when he could not. It was going to be torture. Every night would be spent under the roof of people who seemed to care so much about him that it Ryan felt physical pain when he thought about how difficult it must be to have him around.

"Hi, Ryan!" Kirsten's smiling face appeared beside the bed. "How's the patient today?"

Ryan feigned a smile in return and lied, "Good. You know you really don't have to come every day. You must have plenty of other stuff to do." Noticing how her face fell, he added quickly. "I mean, it's nice to have the company, but don't feel like you have to…"

Kirsten drew up a chair and sat down. "Hey, this is the best bit of the day. Plus, I get to buy tons of chocolate for you and then eat it all myself." She laughed, drawing another feeble smile out of Ryan. "So, anything interesting happen here today?" she asked, glancing round the room to see if there were any new patients.

"No, just watching paint dry. Oh, and the doctor says I get out tomorrow." Ryan scrutinised Kirsten's face to see what reaction the news would elicit.

Her eyes barely flickered at the statement before lighting up with excitement. "Really? Ryan, that's great. Ooh, now let me think. I'll take the day off to come pick you up and get you settled back at home. Or maybe Sandy should drive. Now, I know Seth will want to be at home but he's missed so much school…"

"It's okay. I don't want any fuss, you know. In fact, I was going to say," Ryan paused, trying to gauge what Kirsten wanted to hear the most, "I can easily get a motel or something. You guys don't have to do all this. I mean, I'm not even your son. You shouldn't have to look after me…"

Kirsten cut him off, resting a warm hand on the teenager's arm. "Ryan, stop. Listen to me. We want you at home with us. It's where you belong. I know you don't remember that now, but you will. We're in this together, so I don't want to hear talk like that. Got it?" She cast him her sternest look.

Ryan bowed under her gaze. "Got it."

Kirsten moved one finger up and down the inside of Ryan's arm, reassuringly. "Okay, well I'm going to find your doctor and check what time we can pick you up tomorrow. Here, I brought you some more magazines. Seth gave me a few titles he thought you'd like."

"Thanks."

Kirsten moved away from the bed towards the door at the end of the ward. She spared a brief glance back at Ryan, noting the pale skin and blank expression which clearly hid a well of misery fathoms deep. She couldn't begin to imagine the turmoil his mind must be in and it seemed all the worse because Kirsten also knew how much Ryan was holding inside. She had always had family, people who cared about her, to rely on for support. Her father might not be the best listener, but Kirsten had always found a sympathetic ear in her mother or sister and then in Sandy. It was difficult to imagine not having that, being like Ryan, a self-sufficient person who could only rely on one person – himself. It was going to take time but Kirsten hoped she'd be one of the people to help change that.

Seth rearranged the pile of comics for the twelfth time. They just didn't look right next to the vase of flowers his mom had insisted they place on Ryan's bedside table. He had set up the Playstation together with a ton of games for his friend to play but the key to making the pool house look welcoming was to remind Ryan that it was his domain. Everything had to look like the Cohens had made an effort before he came home but not so much of an effort that it was like the teenager had never lived there.

Seth jumped at the sound of Marissa's voice. "It's been so long I almost can't imagine what Ryan will look like without the hospital setting. Stupid, huh?"

"Nah. I'll just set up an IV for him and he'll be sweet."

Marissa rolled her eyes. "Don't joke. It might be the truth. He didn't look so hot yesterday when I visited. It wouldn't surprise me if they sent him home with a ton of tubes still attached." Seth held back a shrill cry of protest as Marissa flung herself back on the bed. "So, did your folks let you stay home today?"

Seth sat down beside her. "No. They said I'd missed too much school already. Plus, you know they're probably right. Aside from that, Ryan's probably going to be really tired and, as much as I like the guy, he can be pretty boring when he's sleeping."

"You're going to have to see him some time, Seth," Marissa pointed out, not missing a thing.

"I know," Seth protested, as if he had just been concerned for Ryan's health. "I'm just trying to be a bit considerate, you know." He paused before asking, "If you want to see Ryan, why don't you come for dinner tonight?"

Marissa sighed and picked up a cushion, fiddling with the brocade. "I don't know. It doesn't seem like such a good idea when Ryan's fresh out of hospital. I mean, he probably needs rest like you say, not a load of questions."

Seth shrugged, "Well, it's up to you, but you have been visiting him every day so far. Maybe a home setting is exactly what we need to stop things being so…weird."

Marissa nodded but didn't answer. Then, grabbing her bag, she ushered him out. "Come on, we're going to be late for school if we don't get a move on."

It had been another sleepless night for Ryan. Most nights were plagued with nightmares or he'd lie awake into the small hours of the morning, his mind wrestling with a future he could barely contemplate without feeling like his insides were being ripped apart. Sometimes he felt like his brain might explode with the sheer magnitude of his feelings, while other times he was simply propping his eyelids open to avoid the worse terrors sleep would bring.

On several occasions, Ryan had woken up, drenched in sweat, already sitting up before his eyes had even opened. He would look around the ward in panic, afraid that he had cried out and drawn attention to himself. If he had, nobody seemed to notice. The nightmares varied but only one stayed with him in the waking world, as chilling with the sun streaming on his face as it was in the silvery stillness of night.

It began the same way every time – he was floating on a raft somewhere out in the ocean. Somehow, Ryan knew he couldn't swim in the dream, that he was tied to the raft and that shore was too far away to contemplate reaching. Yet, he was not afraid. He felt at peace, being rocked gently by the sea's current. For a long time, he just gazed up at the sky and the sun, sometimes tracking the path of a bird flying high towards the clouds. Then, something would catch his attention, a glint on the water. When he looked closer, Ryan realised that it was a book with a shiny cover. It was a story with pictures. Somehow, he knew it would help him find his way home. Every time, his dream-self would lean over the edge of the raft, trying to catch hold of the book as it bobbed just out of reach. His fingers would spread wide, stiffening to try and lengthen their stretch, but the book was always too far away.

Finally, his fingers would touch the soggy jacket of the book and Ryan would almost have it in his grasp. Simultaneously, the ocean would alter; it's colour would slowly dim until the water was inky black. The waves grew, bubbles rose and Ryan could see a huge shape moving swiftly towards his raft under the surface. He never saw its face; he was only aware of its size…and the danger it presented. In the dream, the raft would shake violently, tossed relentlessly on the story sea, until Ryan was tipped into the water. He tried to cry out but salt water choked his voice. He would claw his way up through the thick liquid, scrambling for air. As he surfaced, Ryan realised the taste in his mouth was more metallic than salty and, looking down at his hands, he realised it was blood he had swallowed. It tasted familiar, almost comforting.

At first the dreams had stopped there. But then his mind pushed him further into the nightmare. As he tried to understand where the blood issued from, his feet would be brushed by the creature still circling in the depths below him. It felt cold and clammy against his skin, yet smooth and streamlined. The touch was light at first, then it grew firmer until his feet were completely encircled by the creature and it was dragging him down once more. Ryan stood no chance of rescue and all thoughts of self-preservation left him as the coldness extended its frosty hold throughout his defenceless body. He could feel himself sinking, all sensation gradually leaving him.

It was then that he would wake, the taste of blood still in his mouth. And it comforted him.

END OF PART 8

Sorry for the wait on this short chapter. And I promise I'm getting to the point! Ryan WILL leave hospital…eventually! Please, please review. Threats seem to have worked so far (below the belt as they are) so be careful I'm not forced to leave Ryan in his nightmare of bad hospital food & gowns instead of tank tops and crayfish!