Disclaimer: Still not mine. All I have to my name is my cat, who I'm not giving up to anyone, and my huge mass of student loans, who I'd be happy to give to anyone who wants them.
Author's notes: Wow, thanks for the reviews! It makes me ridiculously happy to know that people are reading this and that they like it, especially since I've never written for these characters before and this is all a bit new to me. Thanks for your support and I hope this next chapter doesn't disappoint!
Sandy had a feeling something was wrong. He had no evidence for his fears, but eighteen years of parenting had given him a fairly accurate sense of when things were amiss. Things were more than amiss this time, they were wrong, frighteningly wrong. But he had no evidence for it, nothing that couldn't be chalked up to the perfectly normal, understandable worries that every father has when he sends his sons off to college.
Of course, things hadn't been exactly normal lately. Marissa Cooper's tragic death on graduation night had shaken the entire community. Everyone who had known her had been forced to ask themselves how they could have missed the warning signs, why no one had noticed that her drinking had gotten so out of control. Ryan and Marissa hadn't been close in years, but the kid had a bit of a hero complex, and Sandy knew that he had to be beating himself up for not being able to save her. He and Kirsten had tried to get him to talk to them about Marissa, and offered to find him a counselor if he felt more comfortable with that. Ryan had politely turned down their offer, instead deciding to attend college in Boston in the hope of getting away from everything and making a fresh start.
It had sounded perfectly understandable at the time, but Sandy was beginning to have doubts. Something didn't feel right, and he hoped desperately that he was wrong.
Kirsten picked him up at the airport, and they went out for dinner before returning home. The house seemed unusually large and quiet with the absence of Ryan and Seth, and Sandy opted to go to bed early, hoping that everything would feel more normal in the morning.
He woke to the shrill ring of the telephone. Kirsten reached for the receiver as he rubbed his eyes and glanced at his alarm clock. One eighteen in the morning. The anxious feeling in his stomach intensified. No one ever called this late at night with good news.
"He what?" The fear in Kirsten's voice confirmed his fears. She was trembling, and Sandy slid his arm around her shoulders. "When did this happen? Is he all right?" She looked terrified, but her voice was steady, and Sandy knew how hard she was fighting to hold herself together. "Of course. We'll be there as soon as we can."
She hung up and turned to Sandy. "That was someone from Boston General Hospital. Something's happened to Ryan."
He held her close to him, trying to keep the panic from overwhelming him. "What happened? Is he okay?"
Kirsten shook her head. "They don't know...they said he's stable for now, but he lost a lot of blood. She just said there was an accident and the doctor would tell us everything when we got there. Sandy, what if—"
He put a finger to her lips. "He'll be okay, Kirsten. Ryan's a survivor. He can get through this."
Kirsten got out of bed and began to throw on her clothes. "We have to get to Boston, Sandy. Can you call the airlines while I get our..." She broke off as the thought occurred to her. "We have to tell Seth. How are we going to tell Seth?"
"I'll take care of it," Sandy assured her. "You go to Boston, I'll call Seth and get him back down here, and we'll fly out and meet you and Ryan at the hospital."
She nodded, and attempted to pull herself together. "All right."
"Ryan will be fine," Sandy tried to assure her.
He hoped to God he was right.
The first flight to Boston left LAX at six a.m., and was full of men in suits on their way to or returning home from business meetings. Kirsten stared blankly out the window as the plane rumbled through the sky, afraid of what she might find when she saw Ryan and afraid that whatever had happened was somehow her fault.
She loved Ryan like he was her flesh and blood. He was just as much a part of her as Seth was, but it hadn't always been like that. She hadn't trusted him at the beginning, had been wary of the juvenile delinquent Sandy had brought home out of the blue. She loved him now, but she hadn't always, and part of her was afraid that Ryan's accident was some sort of punishment for her not wanting him at first.
Ryan had brought so much to their lives. It was impossible for Kirsten to imagine her family without him. It would be like someone had torn a huge, gaping hole in her heart, an injury that would never fully heal. She tried to remember what Sandy had told her. Ryan was strong. Ryan was a fighter. If anyone could pull through, it would be him.
Kirsten wondered if Ryan knew just how much he meant to them. She hoped that he realized how loved he was, and promised herself that when he got better, she would never let him forget it.
When the plane finally landed, she bolted outside and leapt into the first cab she saw. She called Sandy on the way to the hospital, and got his voice mail. Same thing with Seth, which hopefully meant that the two of them were on their way to Boston at that moment. She paid the cabbie with a fifty dollar bill, waved aside her change, and hurried inside the hospital.
"Can you tell me where I can find Ryan Atwood?" she asked the receptionist, a girl who didn't look much older than twenty-one. "Is he all right?"
The girl typed something into her computer and nodded at Kirsten. "He's on floor three. Psychiatric."
"Psychiatric?" Kirsten furrowed her brow. "That doesn't sound right."
The girl shrugged. "That's all I can tell you, but someone up there should be able to help you."
Kirsten thanked the girl and took the elevator up to the third floor, wondering why on earth Ryan would be on the psychiatric ward. There had to be some mistake, but she could sort that out later. Right now, the only thing she cared about was seeing Ryan and knowing that he would be all right.