I'm glad you like this story. As soon as I post this chapter I'm going to work on Downward Spiral. So much for my list of things to do today. I'm in such an unproductive mood.

And I don't own the O.C. or any of its characters.

"You're joking, right?" Ryan asked.

"No. I'm not."

Ryan's jaw dropped. "I don't get it. How—"

"I'll do anything to keep our family together. Kirsten and I are sorry we ever let you go. I'm just trying to correct the mistake we made."

"Sandy, I can't leave Theresa behind."

"If she wants, she can move into the Pool House. Hailey moved out yesterday to live with Jimmy. You'll take her room."

"And what? You'll build a nursery for the baby? You can't be serious."

"Kirsten and I will do whatever we have to do to keep our family together," Sandy said more harshly than he meant it to come out. "And to keep you from trashing your life. You have a real chance to dig yourself out of this hole."

"Who the hell are you to pass judgment on our way of life? Just because you think you're cut from the same cloth? Because you lived a tough life in the Bronx? It gives you no right to decide that this isn't a good life."

"Was it a good life? Was it good when you landed up in the hospital with a broken rib? That was because you fell down a flight of stairs, right? But you weren't pushed. That's what the police and social services concluded. You were just clumsy. And how about the time you broke your arm? A sports injury, right? Even though you weren't party of any teams at that point."

Ryan rubbed his head. His hair was getting long and shaggy and he was in need of a haircut. If he was still at the Cohens' Kirsten would start threatening to cut his hair herself if he didn't get to the barbershop. He pretended to resent it, but secretly, he liked that she cared about whether or not he ate enough and if his hair was too long.

"Why are you bringing all those things up? You lived in the Bronx and you didn't have money, but no one abused you. Poverty doesn't mean abuse. Tell me the truth, how many women in Newport are the victims of domestic abuse? How many kids are being beaten in Newport? It has nothing to do with money or the lack thereof. Abuse is all over the place and it's not fair to say that just because I choose to live in Chino and to raise my child here that I'll abuse him or her."

"I didn't — I would never—" Sandy spluttered. "I would never imply that Ryan. I just mean that you might resent this child if you give up so much. Let yourself finish school. Go to college. Kirsten and I are willing to support you."

"I choose to stay here. With Theresa. She wants – no she needs- to be near her mother. And I need to be here for this baby. I need to make sure it doesn't live the life I left." He didn't say it, but Ryan was afraid if he went back to Chino then Theresa would end up with Eddie. And if Eddie could hit Theresa, how long would it take him to get drunk and take it out on a small child? Ryan would not let that happen to Theresa's baby. Even if the baby wasn't his!

Sandy lost the contrite tone he had used when Ryan thought he was suggesting that poverty equaled abuse. He took on the firm hard voice he had often used when scolding either one of his sons. The one where he met business. "I already told you, if you choose to stay here, then I'm going to report you as a runaway."

They heard a gasp from the doorway. Sandy's head whipped around and he saw Theresa, clad in her waitress uniform, standing in the doorway.

"It's okay, Theresa. He's not serious."

"I am very serious, Ryan."

"Well, I'm not going back. I'm staying with Theresa."

"Why? So Eddie can beat you up? And what if turns out it is his baby? You think he's just going to let you raise it? Ryan, you can't push us away from this. You need our help." Sandy didn't say it, but he wanted to add, you need your parents.

"Not in the way you're trying to give it," he said coldly.

"Will he go to jail, Mr. Cohen. If you report him as a runaway?"

"Yes," said Sandy simply.

"Ryan—"

"Not you too, Theresa."

"Ryan. They must really love you to sink to this level." Sandy didn't miss the disgust in Theresa's voice. "It doesn't matter. You won't be any use to the baby or me if you're in jail. You're better off going back to Newport. It's not like you even belong here anymore. Anyone can see that." There was a hint of sadness in her voice.

Ryan clenched and unclenched his fist. He felt like hitting someone or something. But he couldn't go on a rampage in Theresa's home. And pummeling Sandy wasn't an option, even if it was tempting. So Ryan took deep breaths to steady his rage.

"I'll help you pack your things," Theresa offered quietly.

"What about Eddie?" Ryan asked.

"My mom is here. She'll keep Eddie at bay. She always had a way with him. And Arturo, he's supposed to be released from jail next month. He'll take care of me then."

"Theresa," Sandy broke in. "You're welcome to stay with us. I was telling Ryan—"

"No thank you, Mr. Cohen. I need to be here with my family. We'll be fine."

"If this baby is Ryan's, we'll support you."

"I don't need your money, Mr. Cohen. It was never about that." She walked away from Sandy and disappeared into another room. Ryan followed her, leaving Sandy in the living room, alone and feeling dirty. He felt the same way as when he had helped keep Uncle Sean out of jail, by brokering an illegal deal to get the charges dropped. He knew he had broken twenty different laws that night and it made him feel immoral and underhanded, but at the same time he had felt self-righteous, because he would do anything for his wife and children.

Ryan came out of the room fifteen minutes later holding his black duffel bag and wearing his leather jacket and gray hoodie. Ryan wasn't smiling. He didn't look remotely happy to be returning back to Newport, but Sandy reminded himself he was doing the right thing.

The hour-long drive back was silent. Sandy left the radio on a music channel, because he knew Ryan got bored from talk radio. He told him to change the dial to any station he liked, but Ryan just leaned his head against the cold glass and stared out the window. Sandy opened and closed is mouth a few times to say something, but decided that Ryan just needed his time.

When Sandy waved to the guard at the gatehouse, as they drove into their gated community, the guard said, "I saw your other boy, Mr. Cohen. He looks well. I'm sure you're glad to have your family back home tonight."

Word spread fast in Newport.

So Seth was home. Sandy glanced at Ryan to see if it would evoke any reaction, but Ryan wore a stony mask and Sandy couldn't read how Ryan was really feeling. He was starting to feel guilty for his manipulative behavior.

He pulled up in front of the house and pulled the keys out of the ignition. "Kirsten is going to be ecstatic. She'll probably jump all over you and slobber you with hugs and kisses, so just be warned."

Ryan shrugged. He didn't really believe that would happen. Kirsten wasn't the touchy feely type. Well, except with Sandy. It seemed like those two couldn't keep their hands off of each other. He and Seth had often walked in on the two of them and their public displays of affection.

"You ready to come in?"

Ryan shrugged again.

"You're not going to make it easy. Are you?"

"Why should I?"

"Because I did this for your own good."

Ryan shook his head. "No. You did this for you and Kirsten. Not for me. Maybe for Seth. I'm not sure. But this has nothing to do with what's best for me." He opened the door and grabbed his duffel out of the back seat of the car. "I'm going to go around and put my stuff in the pool house. I just need to get myself together before I see anyone."

"You know, now that Hailey is gone, Kirsten and I would prefer that you move into that room."

"Does Kirsten even know that I'm coming back?"

Sandy hesitated. "She knows that's what I set out to do today. Just come in, Ryan. We'll worry about where you sleep later."

Ryan rolled his eyes, but he followed Sandy into the house. He had been wrong, because the first thing Kirsten did was throw her arms around him. She squeezed him so hard, he had to beg her for room to breathe and while she gave him some room, she didn't let go. She gently tugged the back of his hair and said it was time for a haircut.

"It's only been four days," he said, suppressing a smile.

"Well, your hair grew a lot." She laughed through her tears. They were the happy ones for the first time in a week. "You're not just here for dinner, right," she asked, eyeing his duffel.

"I'm here for the duration," he said dully.

"Good, because you should have never gone. You or Seth."

"Where is Seth?" Ryan asked changing the subject. "The rent-a-cop at the guardhouse said Seth had come home."

"He's taking a shower. Getting ready for what he calls the inquisition."

Ryan couldn't help his smile. Kirsten was thrilled to see it, but she noticed the smile didn't extend to his eyes. Something had happened in Chino and she was certain that Ryan had not come back to Newport of his own free will.

"Why don't you put your things down? You should take Hailey's old room. Tomorrow we can go shopping, buy new furniture, pick out a new color to paint the walls. We can finally get you a decent desktop computer so you don't kill your back using that laptop. I hated how you would type on your bed."

"I don't need new stuff Kirsten. The pool house is fine."

"No," she insisted. "I want you upstairs. With the rest of the family."

He sighed. "Whatever." He took the steps, two by two, and dumped his stuff in the room next to Seth's. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. Maybe he'd ask for a punching back, because he could really stand to punch something. His eyes snapped open and noticed the pile of pillows on the bed. He only slept with one pillow, but obviously Hailey hadn't. He walked over to the bed and started to pound at the pile.

"What did those pillows ever do to you? They weren't soft enough? Get in the way of some fine sex? Maybe just maybe they didn't satisfy you those nights when you didn't get any."

Seth.

Ryan whirled around to face his foster brother. Seth was grinning from ear to ear; his wet curls fell into his face. His tee shirt clung to his chest, damp from being thrown on without properly drying himself. Obviously, Seth had been eager to get on with his parents' inquisition.

"So how was Catalina?"

"Never got the chance to see more than the inside of the police station." Seth sighed and walked into the room. It was the mirror image of his room, with a long hallway before it broke out into an ordinary rectangle. But the similarities ended there.

"That sucks."

Seth shrugged. "You're here to stay, right?"

Ryan nodded. "I guess."

"Then it's doesn't matter anymore. I didn't want to stay if you weren't here, but if you are here, then it'll be okay."

"Yeah."

"You don't sound convinced."

"Whatever."

"I see our time apart hasn't improved your verbal skills."

"It was only four days Seth."

"It felt like a lifetime."

"That's because you decided to try and sail to Tahiti on your own."

"Yeah. So much for my big plans to bring Summer along."

"She was okay with you taking off?"

Seth shrugged. "I don't know. I left her a note."

"A note?" Ryan raised his brows. Seth recognized Ryan's classic look. It was almost as memorable as Gary Coleman's "watchya talking about, Willis?"

"Yeah. I know. It wasn't my finest moment. I'll have to do some serious groveling to repair that relationship."

"What about the one with your parents?"

"Oh. They'll ground me. Yell. And they'll get over it. It's how they work."

"So much for your summer."

Seth shrugged. "It wouldn't have been much of a summer without you around. Maybe we'll be grounded together."

"I had permission to go."

"Which they obviously reneged. Or did Dad do a really good job of persuading you to come home?"

"A little of both," Ryan said, but he didn't elaborate.

He was saved from any further questions by a light knock on the door. Sandy didn't wait for an answer and just walked right in. Ryan guessed he wouldn't have any more privacy in the guest room than in the pool house. The Cohens believed in a knock and enter code of ethics.

"Mom has food on the table."

"She didn't cook, did she?" asked Seth, horrified at the thought.

Sandy shook his head, suppressing a smile. He wondered why the joke never got old. "It's Mexican. Come on down before the food gets cold."

"It's barely five o'clock," Ryan said. "Isn't it early for dinner?"

"I asked for a meal," Seth answered. "I didn't eat anything all day. It's okay. We'll go out later and grab another meal."

"You're not going out," Sandy said to Seth. "You know we're about to ground you."

"Well you hadn't yet, so I thought the inevitable could be postponed. What about him?" Seth asked pointing to Ryan. "He on house arrest too?"

Sandy avoided Ryan's eyes. Seth's choice of words had been a poor one. But his son had no way of knowing how Sandy had forced Ryan home.

"Ryan didn't runaway," Sandy said simply.

The boys were both safely tucked away in their rooms. Seth was moping, because Sandy and Kirsten had laid down the law, imposing one of the worst groundings they had ever thought up on Seth. They assumed he was reading, because it was the only thing they hadn't taken from him.

"You know, we're going to have to gradually give him back some of his privileges or the next month is going to be pure hell," Kirsten said, nuzzling her husband's neck.

"I know. But he's got to learn his lesson."

"No argument from me," she said. "So, what did you say to Ryan? How did you convince him to come back?" She rolled to her side so that she faced Sandy in bed. "Come on," she cajoled, when Sandy didn't answer right away. "He looked sort of distant. Like he wasn't glad to be back."

Sandy sighed. He better tell Kirsten himself, because it would eventually come out and his wife would not appreciate it coming from another source. So Sandy told her. It only took a few seconds, but when he finished, Kirsten wasn't cuddled close to him. She was sitting upright in the bed, clutching her blanket to her chest as if she was embarrassed for Sandy to see her in her lingerie.

"Oh Sandy," she cried. "How could you?"