Author's Notes:

Leentje—I'm glad you liked my last chapter. Ryan will get better eventually, but there's a long, angsty road ahead of him.

Melanie39—hopefully this chapter is a little less depressing. Not that it could be described as happy, but I tried to make it less angsty than chapter 7. But I'm a firm believer that angst is a good thing, as long as it's interspersed with little bits of hope, and eventually has a happy ending.

Elzed—What can I say, I'm an evil, evil person. That, and I love brooding, angsty Ryan. And ConstructionWorker!Ryan, who was incredibly hot in the s2 premiere, but alas, I don't think there's room for that Ryan in this story. Although maybe I can have Scruffy!Ryan. Scruffy!Ryan is very, very hot.

Cfsoccer28—Thanks for your review. I always love hearing from people who enjoy my stories--it's a great feeling to know that people are reading what I write, and that they like it. I'm glad you like this so far, and hope this next chapter doesn't disappoint.

He was ten years old again and his mom wouldn't wake up.

Dawn was breathing, but just barely as Ryan shook her shoulder. His father had left for prison the week before and his mother had been alternately angry and distraught since his departure. She had been drinking heavily in the last couple of days, and when Ryan came home from school and found her asleep on the couch, he had merely assumed that she was sleeping off another binge. If he was honest with himself, he had been relieved. Ryan loved his mother, but since his father's departure, Dawn was much easier to be around when she was sleeping.

It wasn't until that evening when Ryan finished his homework and emerged from his room that he noticed that his mother was still passed out on the couch. More concerning was the fact that she hadn't appeared to have moved in the past four hours.

Ryan hesitated for a few minutes, wondering whether to risk waking his mother. If Dawn was just taking a long nap, chances were she wouldn't be too happy at him for waking her. But his father had told him to take care of his mother, and besides, something didn't feel right to Ryan.

He shook Dawn's shoulder, gently at first, and then harder. Her breathing was shallow and labored, and Ryan grew more and more afraid. "Mom, wake up," he pleaded. "Please, wake up."

No response. He was gripping both of her shoulders at this point, watching as Dawn's head bobbed back and forth as he shook her with a strength he didn't know she had. Trey had barely set foot in the house since their dad had gone to prison, and Ryan had no idea where his brother was, or when or if he would be back.

"Wake up!" Ryan screamed at his mother. "Wake up, goddamnit!"

Dawn would have smacked him good if she'd heard him swear, but she merely moaned faintly as her breathing became more labored. Ryan was crying now, screaming every bad word he'd ever heard, and shaking her as hard as he could. It wouldn't do any good. His mother was going to die, and it would be all Ryan's fault.

He looked at her and suddenly saw that it was Marissa he was shaking. Her body was limp in his grasp, and the labored breathing had stopped entirely. Ryan placed her gently back on the couch, but she was dead weight in his arms. He knew she was dead.

Ryan woke with a cry. His body was drenched with sweat and he was clutching his sheets tightly in his fists. It had been years since he had thought about that day when Dawn had almost died, but he could vividly the panic and helplessness he had felt. It hadn't even occurred to him to call 911—a neighbor had overheard his screams and called the police. Later on, at the hospital, a doctor had told Ryan that he had likely saved his mother's life.

That made him feel even worse. He hadn't done anything heroic, and he hadn't saved Dawn. He didn't deserve any praise, and if his mother had died it would have been his fault.

Well, everyone knew the truth about him now. They knew that he had failed Marissa, and they knew how fucked up he really was. No wonder Sandy and Kirsten had committed him.

Ryan sighed and rolled onto his back. It was going to be a long night.

Seth Cohen was out of denial and mad as hell.

He loved Ryan. He was his best friend, practically his brother, and Seth owed him a lot. Of course he cared about him, and wanted him to get better, but he couldn't believe that Ryan had actually tried to kill himself. He tried to be patient and understanding. Ryan had been through a lot in the recent months, and of course he had been depressed.

But suicide seemed so unlike Ryan. When Ryan was upset, he got mad. If someone got to him, Ryan would fight back. He wasn't the type to give up—during the Oliver debacle, Ryan had been the only one who stood up to him, the only one who had been able to see how unstable the guy really was. Even when everyone thought it was Ryan who was out of control, he had remained firm in his beliefs, and when the shit hit the fan, it was Ryan who talked Oliver out of killing himself.

Rather ironic, really.

It was easy at first to believe that everything was just one big misunderstanding. But it was harder after he'd seen Ryan in the hospital with his wrists wrapped in bandages, and impossible now that he'd seen his dad fall apart while packing away Ryan's clothes. How could Ryan have done something like this without telling them? Didn't he know how much it would upset his parents? Didn't he know how much it would hurt Seth?

Seth still cared about his friend, but right now he'd like nothing better than to punch his lights out.

It had been really hard to see his dad fall apart like that. Seth couldn't remember ever having seen his father cry, well, aside from tearing up at Sleepless in Seattle, an accusation that Sandy always denied. But today in Ryan's dorm room—that hadn't been misty eyes and a few tears. Sandy had been sobbing and holding onto Seth for dear life.

That was what made Seth mad, the fact that Ryan hadn't thought about how much his actions would hurt everyone who cared about him. Either that, or he'd actually thought the Cohens would be better off without him. It pissed Seth off that Ryan thought so little of them, that he would actually believe that his death would mean nothing to them.

He begged off of going to visit Ryan at the hospital that night. He knew it was rotten and selfish of him, but he couldn't deal with seeing Ryan at this point. Seth loved his brother, but right now he didn't like him at all.

Sandy and Kirsten came by right at the start of visiting hours, and as mad as he still was at them, Ryan couldn't help being a little happy that they had come. Not happy enough to show it, though, and he remained mostly silent through the first twenty minutes or so of their visit, making a conscious effort to say as little to them as possible.

"You know, Ryan," Sandy began. "I was thinking that once we get home, we could take a little trip together some weekend. Have you ever been to Yosemite?"

Ryan shook his head, but didn't say anything.

"Oh, it's beautiful, Ryan," Kirsten jumped in. "Seth may be back at Berkeley by then, but Sandy and I could take a couple of days off of work and we could drive up there and go camping. I'm sure you would love it."

Ryan pictured Kirsten Cohen with her perfectly manicured nails and designer clothes attempting to rough it, and had to fight back the urge to smile. He wanted so badly to believe in Sandy and Kirsten, to trust their assurances that he would be home soon and they would go to Yosemite and catch fish and everything would be fine. But chances were that it would never happen, and he would save himself a world of disappointment if he didn't allow himself to hope.

"Ryan, are you all right?" Kirsten asked in concern, putting a hand to his forehead. "You're so quiet."

"How can you tell?" Sandy joked.

Ryan shrugged. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," Kirsten insisted.

"I guess you'll have to keep me here another couple of months, then," Ryan snapped before he could think.

"Ryan, what are you talking about?" Sandy asked.

"You know what I'm talking about!" Ryan shouted. "You've committed me to this place, and you didn't even tell me!"

"I'm sorry, Ryan," Kirsten told him. "You're right, we should have told you. But this isn't a punishment, Ryan. All Sandy and I want is for you to get better."

"I don't need to be here," Ryan insisted. "They write down where you are every fifteen minutes, you have to ask permission to use the bathroom, and you're not allowed to go anywhere where an aide can't see you. How is this supposed to help me?"

"By keeping you safe, Ryan," Sandy told him sharply.

"I'm fine," Ryan shot back. "I don't need to be here."

"Ryan, you tried to kill yourself," Sandy said firmly. "If what your doctors say is true, you cut up your wrists pretty badly. It would devastate this family if anything happened to you, and it's my responsibility as a parent to keep my kids safe from anyone who wants to hurt them, including themselves."

"So you think I need to be here," Ryan snapped.

"If this is what it takes to keep you safe, then yes, I do," Sandy answered firmly.

"Ryan, it's just for five days," Kirsten interjected. "Then we'll all go home together. Can you give this a try, for us?"

Ryan looked at her skeptically. "You promise it's just for five days?"

Kirsten swallowed. "I promise."

"All right," Ryan gave in. "Five days."

"We love you, Ryan," Kirsten told him softly, touching his cheek gently. "We just want you to get well."

"And do you promise about Yosemite?" Ryan asked Sandy, trying to lighten the mood.

Sandy broke into a smile. "It's a deal, Ryan."