So... it's been a while... I think. If you're interested, please read and review. Oh and the O.C. does not belong to me.

Kirsten knew something had happened the minute she came back to tell them that the technician would be with them in a moment. She just didn't know what and neither of the teens would explain. Theresa was meeting Ryan's stony glare, matching the fire in his eyes with blue, red and orange flames. She couldn't recall ever seeing either of the teens so intense. Not even when they had dropped the bomb that Theresa was pregnant.

Sighing, she sat down between them, hoping that her physical mediation would ease the tension, but it didn't. Instead, Ryan just faced forward, grabbing any magazine off the end table, flipping through the pages noisily. Theresa turned her back to both of them and crossed her arms over her chest. Her teeth were clenched so tightly that her jaw ached.

Kirsten was relieved when the technician called in Theresa. It was a silence-filled ten minutes as they waited for her to emerge from the room. Ryan didn't utter a word; didn't offer to explain. Kirsten sighed, reminding herself that even though Ryan acted like an adult, he was still a teenager. And teenagers were notorious for being sullen and uncommunicative.

"Ryan, the technician is waiting for you," Theresa said as she emerged from the room.

Kirsten watched Ryan stand. "Do you want me to come in with you?" She remembered his admission in the car. The one about not liking needles.

"It's okay. I'll be fine." He walked two steps and turned around, reminding himself that right now he was pissed at Theresa, not Kirsten. "Thanks for the offer."

When he was out of sight, Theresa said, "I'll be going now. Thanks for taking care of everything. And one day, I'll reimburse you."

"That's not necessary. Ryan's like our son. We're doing this as much for him as we are for you."

"I know."

"Will you tell me what happened?"

Theresa searched her purse for her car keys, avoiding Kirsten's gaze. Finally, she clutched the car keys in her hand and said, "I told Ryan that even if the baby is his, I want to consider putting it up for adoption."

"Oh. Wow."

"He's dead set against it. He knows he can't do anything if it turns out to be Eddie's kid, but if it's his…"

"He'll have a legal right," she finished for her.

"I know. But the more I think about it, the more I read about it, the more I realize that the best thing for this baby is to find it a good home.

"Give Ryan some time. He's still not sure if this baby is his. He needs time to digest everything and come to the same realization you have."

"I really believe this is what's best for the baby… and for us. Maybe I should have had that abortion. Everything would have been easier. But it just felt wrong at the time. It still feels wrong."

Kirsten suppressed the urge to wrap her arms around the confused teen. "You have to do what you think is best for you and the baby. Ryan will come around."

"Will you talk to him?"

"Of course. As Ryan will tell you, we Cohens love to talk."

Theresa smiled shyly and thanked Kirsten before leaving.

Kirsten and Sandy didn't sit Ryan down for a talk as he expected they would. They didn't lecture him about the cigarettes; they never even mentioned it. But a day or so later, he found a slip of paper with the neatly typed words, "Smoking makes your teeth yellow," on his bed. He didn't know for sure who put it there, but he suspected it was one of the Cohens. Though, Rosa was the one who found the smokes in the first place, so he couldn't rule her out.

The following day, there was another note about the prohibitive costs of cigarettes and an annotated list of websites on his bed. Each site dealt with teen parenthood, specifically teen fathers. Ryan obliged the mystery note leaver and looked up some of the sites. At work, when he sure Kyle wouldn't look over his shoulder he checked a few more out and read the information carefully. When he was done, he cleared the history, so that Kyle wouldn't accidentally stumble on what he was surfing.

On Friday, there was a stack of library books on the corner of his bed. He flipped through them. Teen Smoking: Understanding the Risk. Teen Parenthood It's Not What You Think It is. The rest of the books were all fiction. They were slim novels, from the young adult section of the library, which Ryan hadn't checked out in years. Hanging on to Max. The First Part Last. No More Saturday Nights.

He lay on his bed and took the slimmest of the books, and started to read. It was about Bobby a teenage father. For whatever reason, the mother wasn't in the picture. It was an easy read, he finished it in an hour, and he sucked in his breath thinking about what he had just read. But he was surprised that the mystery leaver chose the book, because Bobby kept his baby in the end. Not that the book didn't highlight the difficulties of being a teen parent.

He went down to the kitchen where Kirsten was busy at the stove. A young man, someone Ryan didn't recognize, was explaining the difference between a saucepan and a frying pan.

"Hi, Ryan." She smiled broadly. "This is Marco. He was going to be the chef at The Lighthouse, but he agreed to come and give me some cooking lessons. Marco, this is Ryan."

"Hi," Ryan said dully.

The chef smiled and waved his knife.

He took a step back from the knife-wielding cook. "Kirsten, is it okay if I take the car?"

"Where are you going?" She bowed her head over an onion and started to slice.

"I need to go see Theresa."

She looked up and paused her slicing. "Okay," she finally said. "The keys are on the counter. My phone is there too. Take it with you. We have to do something about getting one of your own," she added with a sigh. "And be back by eleven."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It was summer and a weekend. Eleven was a pretty early curfew. It was obvious that Kirsten wanted to make sure she would be up when he returned. But he didn't argue. He'd watched Seth argue too many times, only to have Sandy or Kirsten say, "fine be back by ten."

"And call if you're caught in traffic."

"Okay."

"Wait." She wiped her hands on a towel and walked over to her purse. She pulled out a couple of twenties. "I think the car needs gas."

"Thanks." He didn't bother reminding her that they had filled up on the way home from work. He knew she couldn't have possibly forgotten. Instead, he took the money, knowing she felt more secure when she was certain that he had a few dollars on him. It didn't pay to tell her that he had his own spending money. It wasn't worth the argument.

"Drive safe."

"Thanks. Have fun cooking. If it's edible, save me some." He ducked his head as she through a towel at him.

Ryan wasn't sure why he was going to see Theresa. He just knew he had to hear what she was thinking so that he could try and understand. He knew that Sandy and Kirsten wouldn't stay passive much longer, that eventually the little hints they were throwing at him, would stop and they would insist on sitting down to discuss his options. He was hoping that it could wait until after the paternity results were in. If it was Eddie's baby, why bother trying to figure things out? He had no legal right to stop the adoption and he doubted Sandy and Kirsten would agree to take in a newborn baby. If it was his, he dared to hope, though he knew he had no right to ask. They had done so much for him already.

He flipped on the radio and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, letting the thoughts swirl around his head. He hadn't even called to see if Theresa was in, he hoped it wasn't a wasted trip. He really wasn't sure what he was about to say, but he hoped he would find the right words.

He parked the car in front of the house, and forced himself not to look at the house he had once lived in with his mother and A.J. He wasn't even sure where Dawn was at these days. But that had nothing to do with why he was there.

He looked up again and saw Theresa standing behind the screen door. He was now certain that she was starting to show. She was wearing an oversized tee shirt, probably one that belonged to Arturo, and he knew if he pressed down, he'd feel the swell of her stomach. He'd be able to feel the baby that might be his. Just looking at Theresa caused a rumble in his bowels and it felt like they would give way to diarrhea. His mouth was suddenly parched. He didn't know why seeing Theresa was making him nervous.

"Hey, Ryan. I didn't know you were coming."

"Spur of the moment."

"What's the occasion?"

"I just wanted to talk." He met her on the other side of the screen door. "Can I come in?"

"Sure." She opened the door and led him to the kitchen. "Can I get you a drink? Something to eat?"

He shook his head. "We need to talk Theresa. I need to understand what's going through your head."

"Sit," was all she said.

"Is your mom home?" asked Ryan.

"She's working tonight."

He smiled, remembering all the times that Eva had worked nights when they were in teenagers. In some ways it was what led them to be sitting in Eva's kitchen, unable to talk, with the weight of what was to come in five months sitting between them. He didn't know why, but seeing Theresa sitting at the kitchen table with her bare feet propped up onto a chair, made Ryan go wild with desire. Her black hair cascaded down to her shoulders in soft waves. Her olive skin glowed.

The air in the kitchen was thick around them. There was only a fan in the corner, circulating the same stale air over and over. He drew in a breath and reached out to touch her glistening skin. "You look beautiful tonight."

"Ryan, say what you have to say." She wriggled her butt back a fraction of an inch, to escape his touch.

"I don't know. I-" He stopped. He didn't know how to explain. She'd laugh if he told them about the blitz of books and websites and little notes that the Cohens had started leaving on his bed. It sounded like something that would happen on a TV Sitcom. It's probably where they learned the technique. Sometimes he had to pinch himself so that he remembered it was real. That the Cohens were real. That he was part of a real family and all the corny stuff that came with it.

"I've been thinking a lot about what you said last week at the lab. And I guess I just wanted to talk to you again."

"What do you want to say?"

"That's the problem. Now that I'm here, I don't know what it is I want to say. Theresa, I love you. I love this baby. I can't imagine not being part of either one of your lives. I just don't get why you would want to give it away."

"I don't want to give it away. I love this baby too. But it's because I love this baby that I'm trying to think ahead. We are too young to raise a child. If we try, we're in danger of failing it like your parents failed you."

"That's not true."

She swung her legs off the chair and leaned forward. "Yes it is, Ryan. Think about it. How were you planning on supporting this kid?"

"By working."

"And how were you going to finish high school? Are you going to drop out? That's going to give this kid something to look up to."

He banged the table with an open hand. It stung. He stood up, shaking out the pain, bringing it to his mouth, and muttering profanities under his breath. "It wasn't my idea to get pregnant and seventeen. It happened and I'm trying to do the best that I can."

"I know." She got up and put a calming hand on his shoulder. "You're doing great. But I'm glad the Cohens and my mom stepped in. We're just kids Ryan. And I think we should try and stay kids for a little longer."

He shook his head. "It's getting late. I've got to start heading back or I'll be late for curfew."

"Ryan." She stroked his shaggy blonde hair.

He shook her off. "I've got to go."

He walked out, not turning to say good-bye, but just picking up his hand in a small wave.

Sandy kissed the top of Kirsten's head. "Honey, that meal was delicious."

"Are you still going to tell your mother I'm a lox in the kitchen?"

"Not if you keep cooking like that!"

Seth made a face as he sauntered into the family room where his parents were sitting. "Dishes are done." It figured that Ryan would skip out on him on the day Kirsten decided to learn to cook. There had been a half a dozen pots and pans to wash. But Seth wasn't going to complain. The food had been good and he was able to pick at the leftovers. "Is Marco going to cook for us again?"

"Marco did not cook for us! I cooked for us. Marco simply showed me what to do!" She playfully swatted her son's backside. "Show some respect for your mother."

"I ate the food didn't I? I didn't crack any jokes about possibly being poisoned."

"He's right," said Sandy.

"Okay," she conceded. "Thank you for that. And thank you for taking care of the dishes."

"And I put away a plate for Ryan, just like you asked. Though he doesn't deserve any since he left us here to taste the food for him. I bet he figured that if he we were alive and kicking when he came home that it would be safe to eat the food."

Kirsten laughed. "As opposed to lying on the floor writhing in pain." She knew her son and husband would never tire of teasing her about her cooking abilities. Even if she became the next Julia Child they'd find away to tease her about her cooking.

"Anyway, I'm going to go up to my room to pretend I'm reading while I'm really using my computer even though I've been grounded."

Sandy glared at him.

"Joking." Seth held up his hand and backed out of the room. "Not," he muttered under his breath.

When they were alone, Kirsten nestled into the crux of Sandy's arm. "We have to talk to Ryan when he gets home."

"How'd he react to the latest blitz on his bed?"

"He ran to Chino to talk to Theresa."

"Okay. That's good. Maybe he'll start to see her point of view."

"I've been thinking Sandy."

"That can be dangerous."

She slapped him hard on his belly.

"Oohhmphh." He gasped. "That hurt."

"Don't insult me. I'm trying to be serious."

"Okay. Sorry. You were thinking about what?"

"Do you think if it would be easier for Ryan and Theresa to give this baby up for adoption to someone they knew and trusted. Someone they could stay close to?"

Sandy fidgeted under his wife's weight. "What do you mean?" All the humor was gone from his voice.

"We could adopt Ryan and Theresa's baby."

"We don't even know if it's Ryan's baby."

"Then we don't suggest it until the paternity results come in."

"I don't know Kirsten."

"Ryan is too young to be a father."

"True."

"We can offer this baby a lot. It would have a wonderful father and two great big brothers."

"One big brother would really be its father."

"The baby wouldn't have to know until he or she is old enough."

"Have you thought of what it would be like to have a baby in the house again?"

"Yes." She looked up at Sandy and outlined his lips with her index finger.

"It wouldn't do anything for our sex lives."

"Like having two teenagers under our roof has?"

He laughed. "They seem to be getting lots of action. More than us…."

She groaned. "Don't remind me." Looking up at Sandy, she said, "You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

"Of course I am. You knew I would."

The phone rang. Kirsten glanced at the caller ID. "It's the lab. The one where Ryan and Theresa took the paternity test."

"So pick up."

Swallowing, Kirsten pressed the talk button. "Hello."

"Is this Mrs. Cohen?" There was a crackling on the line.

"Yes. This is she."

"My name is Sam Rappaport. There was a note in my file to call you with the results as soon as they were in."

"Yes. Thank you."

"I hope it's not too late. I was just trying to catch up tonight."

"No. It's fine. We just finished dinner. So, what were the results? Is our son the father of this baby?"