Title: Trouble in Portland

Summary: What if Ryan had a harder time dealing with the loss of the baby in episode 2.01 The Distance?

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to The O.C. No profit is taken from this story.

Author's Notes: AU for The Distance. Takes placeright after Ryan gets the call from Theresa telling him that she lost the baby.

Chapter 2

At the bus stop, Ryan just got on the first bus that stopped. He didn't know the bus numbers or bus routes in Portland, but he figured that most city buses would probably eventually end up downtown. And he was right. When the bus got downtown, Ryan got off and looked around. It looked like your normal big city. There would be no way that he'd be able to buy alcohol at his age in this part of town -- it was too respectable. He'd need to get to the lower-income areas and find a party, or a liquor store that didn't care about your age.

So Ryan bought himself a Coke and sat on a bench near the bus stop for a while, drinking and watching the people getting on and off the busses. He was looking in particular for people who looked like they were working class people, to see what numbered bus they got on and off of. He figured that bus route would probably be taking them to/from home, to the working class neighborhoods.

Ryan was a little surprised that nobody bothered him the entire time that he sat there. No homeless people came up asking for change. No cops stopped by and told him to move on. He guessed he looked harmless enough.

After Ryan finished his Coke, he got on the next bus that stopped which sported the number that he had identified as going to the lower income neighborhoods.

Ryan sat on the bus and looked out the window and watched the neighborhoods go by -- the downtown business district became upper class areas, became middle class areas, became working class areas. Ryan got off in a suitable looking working class neighborhood. He noticed that with what he was wearing and how he looked, he fit right in. Not that it was unexpected. After all, he had just been living a working class life in Chino for the last three months, and he'd grown up that way.

Ryan wandered around for a while, looking for a party that he could crash. A party was better than a liquor store because the booze was free. While Ryan did have some cash, he didn't have a lot, so free was definitely preferred. Even though it was Sunday, Ryan knew in these types of neighborhoods, any day was fair game for a party.

And he wasn't disappointed. Shortly after dark, Ryan found what he was looking for -- a rockin' house party in a lower class neighborhood with loud music, free flowing beer, and people spilling out all over the front and back yards. Nobody would notice one more kid.

Ryan walked in like he belonged there, and nobody gave him a second look. To tell the truth, that was kind of depressing, that he fit in so well. Ryan headed for the keg and poured himself a beer, and then another, and another. Later, he found the bar with vodka, gin, anything you'd want.

"Dad, we can't call the cops."

Carson hesitated with the phone in his hands.

Seth saw that and jumped in to back up Luke. "You know about his probation, right?"

"Yes."

"Right, so if the cops pick him up..."

Carson reluctantly put down the phone. Luke and Seth shared a look of relief.

Carson looked at the boys and tried to explain himself. "It's just... it's so late, and Ryan doesn't know Portland --"

Seth jumped in. "Don't worry about Ryan, Mr. Ward. He can take care of himself."

Now Luke backed Seth up. "Yeah, Dad, he'll be back, maybe not until tomorrow, but... he'll be fine."

Carson sighed. "OK. But if he's not back by tomorrow morning, I'm going to have to do something."

Luke and Seth nodded their agreement.

By the time that Ryan stumbled out of the party, it was very late. He was quite drunk and he knew that he'd be passing out pretty soon. He wanted to try and get back to Luke's house before that happened. He headed out looking for a bus stop. A couple of streets over from the house party was a more business-like area with stores and stuff, although everything was closed by now, even the bars.

Ryan found a bus stop and collapsed on the bench to wait. He didn't know how long he'd have to wait. He didn't even know if city busses ran this time of night, or early morning really. While he waited, he wasn't feeling so well, so he lay down on the bench on his back and closed his eyes. He could feel himself about to pass out. He didn't think he'd make it back to Luke's.

The next thing he knew, he heard a car pulling up next to him and a bright light was shining in his face. He moved his arm to cover his eyes.

"Kid, kid, come on, sit up."

Ryan felt a pair of hands pushing him into a sitting position. He opened his eyes to see two cops and a police car in front of him. Great. He closed his eyes again. He was really about to pass out.

A hand was shaking Ryan's shoulder. "Hey, what's your name, kid?"

Ryan cracked his eyes open a little. He licked his lips. "Ryan Atwood."

"How old are you, Ryan?"

"Sixteen." Ryan shut his eyes again.

"What did you take?" More shaking. "Ryan, what did you take?"

Ryan opened his eyes and looked at the cop who was talking to him, confused.

"Drugs. What drugs did you take?"

Ryan shook his head. "No drugs."

"Kid, you're obviously high..."

Ryan shook his head, again. "No drugs. Beer. Vodka. Gin..."

Argh. Ryan closed his eyes again. All this shaking was killing his head. He put his head back and promptly passed out.

Bill, the rookie cop, shook Ryan's shoulder again, trying to get him to wake up. "Kid! Kid!"

"Give it up, Bill, he's passed out."

Bill stopped. He looked at his more senior partner, John. "Do you think he was telling the truth? That he's just drunk?"

John leaned forward and smelled Ryan's breath. And checked his pulse.

"Well, he does smell like alcohol. And his pulse is steady. We can also search him, see if he has any drugs on him, and check for needle marks or traces of cocaine, stuff like that."

So they proceeded to do that and didn't find any traces of drugs. They did find Ryan's wallet, with a modest amount of cash and a California driver's license.

Bill read from the license. "Ryan Atwood. Age 16. Well, he was telling the truth about that. It says here that he lives in Chino, California."

"Maybe he just moved. Check the back for a new address."

Bill checked. "Nope. Do you think he's a runaway?"

John looked Ryan over. "He doesn't look like he lives on the streets. Too clean. If he is a runaway, he hasn't been here for long."

Bill looked Ryan over, too. "He looks like he could live in this neighborhood."

John nodded his agreement.

Bill had already learned that normally when they'd find drunk teenagers, they'd take them home and let their parents deal with them, and with runaways or street kids they'd hand them over to Child Protective Services. But in this case, Bill wasn't sure what the procedure should be.

"So what do we do now, hand him over to CPS?"

John shook his head. "Nah. Not yet. If he does live here, that would cause all kinds of trouble for his parents. We'll just take him to the station and let him sleep it off there. The day shift tomorrow will deal with finding his parents or handing him over to CPS."

Bill nodded his understanding. The two cops proceeded to pick Ryan up and put him in their car and take him to the station.

To be continued.