Title: What Could Have Been (1/2)
Author: smurf Category: Angst Rating: R (for drug use)
Summary: What if what should have been Ryan and Theresa's new family becomes only Ryan's toughest moment of grief to overcome?
Warnings: This is very sad; if that'll bother you, please don't read further Author's Notes: This is basically an AU, as they'd never go here in the show, however, I thought the idea was cool and that I'd write it up and share it anyway.
The phone rang again, and Sandy reached out to answer it. His eyes fell on the neon green 4:13 from the nightstand clock, the only light in the darkened room.
"Sandy?" On the other end of the phone, Ryan sounded so uncertain and young it sent Sandy bolting up in bed.
"What's wrong?"
"I...." Ryan seemed unable to do more than mumble.
While Sandy rubbed the last of his sleep from his eyes, Kirsten sat up, worry on her face. 'Ryan,' he worded to her. He watched her give a little sigh as she realized it wasn't Seth.
"Are you alright?" Sandy asked.
"Yeah."
"Theresa?"
"Yeah."
"What is it?" Kirsten whispered.
Sandy shook his head, opened his mouth to ask his first question again, and was interrupted by Ryan--"Kyle's dead."
"Kyle?" Sandy had only meet Ryan's infant son once. Had there been doubt of his parentage before birth, none existed after. He had fine blonde hair, plus he already possessed his father's strong, defiant features.
The shock on Kirsten's face must have mirrored his own. That sigh before had been relief that is wasn't Seth, their own son, in harm. It wasn't their grandson dead, but in many ways it still was.
"How?" Sandy asked as he tried to calculate how old the baby could have been. Not yet a month, right? He'd been born when, right before Christmas, a little on the early side?
"I wouldn't have called, it's just...I don't think...I didn't...."
"Ryan, you need to--"
"We put him to bed early, like always. We thought he'd just started to get the sleeping at night thing, but when we checked he wasn't breathing. Called 911. They came, but it was...they said there hadn't been anything to do." Ryan rambled on, voice soft. It made Sandy feel as though a dam inside Ryan had broken, and perhaps not for the best. "It was probably SIDS, they think; he's a boy, was early, with a low birth rate. Guess it's not all that uncommon."
'SIDS' Sandy worded to Kirsten, pale white beside him. Her brow furrowed. 'Sudden Infant--,' he continued. She nodded knowing the rest, and shook her head as her eyes teared up.
"Ryan...." Sandy tried to say he was sorry, tried to say he could understand. He knew though that words would be just that, and the truth was he could only imagine what Ryan must be going through.
"They let us hold him for a while after; said it would help. Theresa...." Ryan's voice choked up. "I had to take him away; she didn't want to give him up. He was...."
'Cold, dead', Sandy finished in his mind. "Anything, Ryan. Anything you, or Theresa, need."
Only silence echoed back. He could hear Ryan's ragged breath over the quiet sounds of the city: a dog barked, a car drove past, crickets chirped. Sandy could almost see Ryan sitting on a back porch. He stared at nothing, face empty, nothing but a white tank and pants thrown on in a hurry hours ago on.
"They have to do tests," Ryan said, startling Sandy. "To make sure, it was SIDS."
"Of course," Sandy replied. "It would be standard."
"Someone has to pick him up, to...." Sandy heard Ryan swallow, and wished all this pain could be his instead. "Talk to a funeral home...arrange things."
"It'll be done," Sandy answered before he realized what all he'd just offered.
"I can pay you back."
Sandy shook his head. Even now, it came back to not wanting to take their full help. "Don't worry about it."
"They gave me a number, to call."
"Yeah, I'll...let me get some paper." Sandy reached for the nightstand, only to be handed paper and a pen by Kirsten. "Okay." He wrote down the offered number, trying to not think about arranging the funeral for a baby who had barely started life.
"Why don't we come down there," Sandy said. Kirsten firmly nodded her head, made to get off the bed.
"I'm fine. Theresa's out, valium, or something."
"What about you?" Sandy watched Kirsten grabbing clothes. "We should be there."
"No. I...."
'--need to be alone', Sandy knew were the unspoken words. He could imagine Ryan earlier, knowing they needed to call for help, greeting the EMs at the door, putting a robe around Theresa to make her presentable. Ryan would be strong because it was asked of him, and to do that he needed time alone to deal with all this as best he could. Something inside Sandy broke knowing that when Ryan needed them most other's neglecting him in the past didn't allow him to reach out to them.
"Okay," Sandy said. He held up his palm and shook his head to stop Kirsten from dressing. Her face fell knowing why, and she wrapped a robe around herself instead. Sandy wished he could take Ryan into his embrace, tell him lies that it would be fine. "If you need anything, son, any-thing."
"I know," Ryan whispered back, meaning it.
"I'll call you tomorrow."
"Yeah."
Sandy didn't know what else to say. Then he realized what the choking sound on the other end of the line meant: Ryan was crying. The image of tears following down that hard face brought tears to his own. He wanted to say that they were there for him and that they loved him, but no words came.
"I should go," Ryan said.
"Yes. Anything, Ryan."
He could see Ryan nodding his head as he hung up.
Author: smurf Category: Angst Rating: R (for drug use)
Summary: What if what should have been Ryan and Theresa's new family becomes only Ryan's toughest moment of grief to overcome?
Warnings: This is very sad; if that'll bother you, please don't read further Author's Notes: This is basically an AU, as they'd never go here in the show, however, I thought the idea was cool and that I'd write it up and share it anyway.
The phone rang again, and Sandy reached out to answer it. His eyes fell on the neon green 4:13 from the nightstand clock, the only light in the darkened room.
"Sandy?" On the other end of the phone, Ryan sounded so uncertain and young it sent Sandy bolting up in bed.
"What's wrong?"
"I...." Ryan seemed unable to do more than mumble.
While Sandy rubbed the last of his sleep from his eyes, Kirsten sat up, worry on her face. 'Ryan,' he worded to her. He watched her give a little sigh as she realized it wasn't Seth.
"Are you alright?" Sandy asked.
"Yeah."
"Theresa?"
"Yeah."
"What is it?" Kirsten whispered.
Sandy shook his head, opened his mouth to ask his first question again, and was interrupted by Ryan--"Kyle's dead."
"Kyle?" Sandy had only meet Ryan's infant son once. Had there been doubt of his parentage before birth, none existed after. He had fine blonde hair, plus he already possessed his father's strong, defiant features.
The shock on Kirsten's face must have mirrored his own. That sigh before had been relief that is wasn't Seth, their own son, in harm. It wasn't their grandson dead, but in many ways it still was.
"How?" Sandy asked as he tried to calculate how old the baby could have been. Not yet a month, right? He'd been born when, right before Christmas, a little on the early side?
"I wouldn't have called, it's just...I don't think...I didn't...."
"Ryan, you need to--"
"We put him to bed early, like always. We thought he'd just started to get the sleeping at night thing, but when we checked he wasn't breathing. Called 911. They came, but it was...they said there hadn't been anything to do." Ryan rambled on, voice soft. It made Sandy feel as though a dam inside Ryan had broken, and perhaps not for the best. "It was probably SIDS, they think; he's a boy, was early, with a low birth rate. Guess it's not all that uncommon."
'SIDS' Sandy worded to Kirsten, pale white beside him. Her brow furrowed. 'Sudden Infant--,' he continued. She nodded knowing the rest, and shook her head as her eyes teared up.
"Ryan...." Sandy tried to say he was sorry, tried to say he could understand. He knew though that words would be just that, and the truth was he could only imagine what Ryan must be going through.
"They let us hold him for a while after; said it would help. Theresa...." Ryan's voice choked up. "I had to take him away; she didn't want to give him up. He was...."
'Cold, dead', Sandy finished in his mind. "Anything, Ryan. Anything you, or Theresa, need."
Only silence echoed back. He could hear Ryan's ragged breath over the quiet sounds of the city: a dog barked, a car drove past, crickets chirped. Sandy could almost see Ryan sitting on a back porch. He stared at nothing, face empty, nothing but a white tank and pants thrown on in a hurry hours ago on.
"They have to do tests," Ryan said, startling Sandy. "To make sure, it was SIDS."
"Of course," Sandy replied. "It would be standard."
"Someone has to pick him up, to...." Sandy heard Ryan swallow, and wished all this pain could be his instead. "Talk to a funeral home...arrange things."
"It'll be done," Sandy answered before he realized what all he'd just offered.
"I can pay you back."
Sandy shook his head. Even now, it came back to not wanting to take their full help. "Don't worry about it."
"They gave me a number, to call."
"Yeah, I'll...let me get some paper." Sandy reached for the nightstand, only to be handed paper and a pen by Kirsten. "Okay." He wrote down the offered number, trying to not think about arranging the funeral for a baby who had barely started life.
"Why don't we come down there," Sandy said. Kirsten firmly nodded her head, made to get off the bed.
"I'm fine. Theresa's out, valium, or something."
"What about you?" Sandy watched Kirsten grabbing clothes. "We should be there."
"No. I...."
'--need to be alone', Sandy knew were the unspoken words. He could imagine Ryan earlier, knowing they needed to call for help, greeting the EMs at the door, putting a robe around Theresa to make her presentable. Ryan would be strong because it was asked of him, and to do that he needed time alone to deal with all this as best he could. Something inside Sandy broke knowing that when Ryan needed them most other's neglecting him in the past didn't allow him to reach out to them.
"Okay," Sandy said. He held up his palm and shook his head to stop Kirsten from dressing. Her face fell knowing why, and she wrapped a robe around herself instead. Sandy wished he could take Ryan into his embrace, tell him lies that it would be fine. "If you need anything, son, any-thing."
"I know," Ryan whispered back, meaning it.
"I'll call you tomorrow."
"Yeah."
Sandy didn't know what else to say. Then he realized what the choking sound on the other end of the line meant: Ryan was crying. The image of tears following down that hard face brought tears to his own. He wanted to say that they were there for him and that they loved him, but no words came.
"I should go," Ryan said.
"Yes. Anything, Ryan."
He could see Ryan nodding his head as he hung up.