Author's notes:

Leentje—Sorry this took so long, but with holidays and the uploading feature being down, I wasn't terribly productive.

Christina—Glad you liked the surfing bit. I agree, that would be great to see on the show. Any excuse to get Ryan soaking wet is good with me.

i-luv-the-oc-and-smallville—Thanks for your review. I'm pretty sure Julie will be around in upcoming chapters…

ctoan—I adore your stories, and was very flattered to see that you're reading this. As to whether Ryan will ever tell anyone what happened that night, that issue will definitely come up again in upcoming chapters.

HateToSayIToldYouSo—I understand all about busy weeks, as evidenced by my taking forever to update this chapter. sigh I look forward to your next update, whenever you can find the time.

Storymom—Glad to see you're still around. ;) I couldn't resist throwing in that broken arm comment, especially since your story was one of the first OC ones I ever read.

Melanie39—It's good to hear that I got my point across with that last nightmare. I wanted to explain why Ryan felt so guilty, without having made him into a total jerk, or portraying Marissa as completely evil.

Jen—Thanks for your comments. ;)

Elzed—maybe by the end of this story I can have a chapter that's completely angst-free. I feel so bad torturing Ryan, but he's so sad and cute when he's brooding. I'll make it up to him at the end.

60schic—Wet Ryan is a wonderful, wonderful thing, and something that is far too rare on the show. Thanks for reading. :)

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Kirsten arrived for work fifteen minutes early, in hopes of catching her father in his office before his first meeting at eight thirty. It had been a busy summer for the Newport group, which had recently bought a stretch of coastline property near Santa Barbara. Caleb had plans for opening a new residential community in November, and with the deadline quickly approaching, Kirsten hadn't really talked to her father since she and Sandy had left for Boston.

She was in luck, finding Caleb sitting at his desk drinking coffee and looking over a bundle of papers. Ordinarily Julie would have been in the office as well, but Kirsten hadn't seen her around since Marissa's death at the beginning of the summer. I know how she feels, Kirsten realized. The same thing almost happened to me.

Caleb looked up from his work and a smile spread across his face as he caught sight of his oldest daughter. "Kiki! What a lovely surprise!"

"Hi, Dad," Kirsten smiled, walking over to his desk and pecking her father on the cheek. "Got a minute?"

Caleb looked at his watch. "Actually, I have five. What's on your mind?"

"I was thinking," Kirsten began, trying to remember the speech she had so carefully prepared the previous night. "Our engineering department lost one of their interns last week, and I think I know who we could hire to replace him."

"You're talking about Ryan, aren't you?" Caleb replied. "Don't look so surprised, Kiki. I've known you your entire life. I can tell when you're up to something."

"I can assure you that Ryan's perfectly qualified," Kirsten hastened to assure him. "He had top grades in his math and science classes at Harbor. I know he's a little young, but considering most of the job consists of getting coffee and using the photocopy machine, I'm pretty sure he can handle it."

Caleb looked thoughtful. "You never did tell me why he dropped out of college in Boston."

"He just decided to take a little time off," Kirsten said quickly. It wasn't a total lie, after all. "He got into a little accident there, and he wants to take some time to recover before he starts school again. That's why I thought a job might be good for him."

"Kiki, didn't I just tell you that I know when you're hiding something?" her father asked. "I know there's something you're not telling me."

Kirsten sighed. "Ryan's been depressed since Marissa died. Sandy and I think that he blames himself for what happened. He spent a week in the hospital in Boston before coming home."

"So the accident was…"

"He tried to kill himself," Kirsten finished, sagging into a chair. "He seems better now, and he's starting therapy here in Newport, but Sandy and I are still scared for him."

"And you want him to work here so you can keep an eye on him," Caleb finished. "Right?"

"In a way," Kirsten admitted. "He wants to get a job, and he's interested in architecture, and I thought that if he worked in engineering, I'd be around if he needed me, but he wouldn't feel like I was watching him every moment."

"Are you sure he's up to working?" Caleb asked. "We do a lot of business at the Newport Group, and we can't have anyone whose personal problems get in the way of their job."

Kirsten struggled to keep her cool. Losing her temper at her father wouldn't help anyone, least of all Ryan. "I'm confident that Ryan can handle making photocopies, Dad."

"You know how I feel about that boy," Caleb began. "It's never been a secret. But you love Ryan and I love you, so I'm willing to give him a trial period. But if it doesn't work out, Kiki, I'll have to dismiss him."

Kirsten nodded. "Thank you, Dad."

The intercom buzzed. "Mr. Nichol, your eight thirty appointment is here."

"I won't keep you," Kirsten promised. "Thanks again, Dad."

Caleb nodded. "Tell Ryan he can start first thing Monday morning."

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Mercifully, the night had passed for Ryan without any nightmares. They didn't have any real pattern to them, which in a way made it worse, since he had no idea when the next one was going to happen. Maybe, he hoped, the last one had merely been brought on by the stress of returning to Newport. He didn't quite believe it, but one could always hope.

He was beginning to regret having agreed to moving into the house, which didn't make any sense when he thought about it. He liked his new room, which was right across the hall from Seth's, and Kirsten had promised that she and Sandy would take him to get anything he wanted in order to decorate it that weekend. He had gone surfing again with Sandy that morning, and to lunch at the Crab Shack, and even though he knew that Sandy was taking time off of work in order to keep an eye on him, Ryan couldn't help enjoying the time they spent together. Ever since he had first come to live with the Cohens, Ryan had secretly envied Seth for having a father like Sandy, and had even pretended sometimes to himself that Sandy and Kirsten were really his parents as well. That was what made him so afraid of letting them down.

He didn't want to let them in because he didn't want to disappoint them. He had killed Marissa, was just as responsible for her death as she was. He had known that she was drunk, and he had lost his temper and thrown her car keys at her instead of keeping his cool and taking her home. If only he had done that, she would be alive today. Still drinking, maybe, and still unhappy, but alive. Or if he hadn't tried to deal with it by himself, if he had come to the Cohens like they were always after him to do, they could have done what was needed to get Marissa some help. But instead he had tried to handle it all by himself, failed miserably, and now he was getting everything that should have been Marissa's.

Ryan was starting to feel things again and it was frightening him. In the months since Marissa's death it had seemed as if he were numb to the world, going through the actions while feeling nothing. That was changing now, to the point where his emotions were cycling rapidly and all he could do was stand by and watch. He was profoundly grateful to the Cohens and everything they had done for him. He resented them for constantly checking on him as if he were a toddler. He wanted to be left alone. He was afraid of being abandoned. He didn't know what to feel anymore.

After lunch, Sandy drove him to his first therapy appointment. Ryan sat silently in the front seat, staring out the window. He didn't have much faith in therapy, didn't understand how talking about himself and how royally he'd screwed was going to make anything better. But the Cohens had been adamant that he talk to someone, and Ryan figured that he wasn't in much of a position to argue. The couple days of therapy he'd had in the hospital had been fairly painless, and if it made Sandy and Kirsten happy then he supposed it might be worth it.

Sandy pulled his BMW into a parking space and shut off the ignition. "Here we are, Ryan. You ready?"

Ryan shrugged. "I guess."

"I think you'll like this therapist," Sandy offered. "I sent a lot of my clients to him when I worked for the PD's office, and from what I saw, he was pretty good."

"Okay," Ryan mumbled, unbuckling his seat belt and opening the door. Sandy did the same, and Ryan turned to look at him. "You're coming in with me?"

Sandy faltered. "Is that okay with you?"

Ryan tried not to show his irritation. Ever since he'd gotten out of the hospital, Sandy had been reluctant to let him out of his sight. Even if he went into the kitchen to get a snack, more often than not Sandy would follow him, probably to make sure that he didn't off himself because they were out of tuna. He knew Sandy's intentions were good, but he wished that he would back off a bit and give Ryan some space.

"Yeah, whatever, it's fine," Ryan mumbled. He didn't have the energy to tell Sandy the truth, not right now.

Sandy sensed the boy's hesitation. "Are you sure?"

"God, Sandy, just do what you want, okay?" Ryan snapped. He saw the hurt in the older man's eyes and was immediately sorry. "Sorry."

Sandy slid back into his seat and shut the car door. "No, it's all right, Ryan. I'll wait out here for you."

Ryan wanted to kick himself for what he'd said. His mind flashed back to when he'd asked Sandy to leave after waking up in the hospital. This man had done everything for him, and this was how Ryan repaid him. He was disgusted with himself.

"Ryan, really, it's fine," Sandy continued. "Go ahead in. I'll see you in an hour."

Ryan went.

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The therapist was different from what Ryan had expected. He was about Sandy's age, but he was wearing jeans and a button-down shirt instead of a suit and when he shook Ryan's hand, he told the boy to call him Brad.

Ryan tried not to show his surprise. "You want me to call you by your first name?"

"You can call me Dr. Dumbrowski if you want," the man offered, "but I can't promise you I'll always respond. I'm pretty laid back, and most of my clients call me by my first name."

Ryan glanced nervously at the couch. "Am I supposed to lie down?"

Brad grinned. "If you want to, then by all means go ahead, but to be honest, I don't really do the 'lie on the couch and tell me about your mother' bit."

That's a relief, Ryan thought, sinking down into a chair. "So I guess you want me to tell you why I'm here."

"Listen, Ryan," Brad began. "I've read your records from Boston, and I've talked to Sandy Cohen, so I have some idea of what's going on with you. But I don't know your side of things, and I understand that I'm a stranger to you and that you might not want to just start telling me everything that's on your mind. And that's okay. You can come and we can talk about sports, or anything else you want. Or you can even sit the entire hour and say nothing. That's okay too. I want you to feel comfortable with me, and I know that that takes time."

Ryan couldn't help liking the guy for that. "Okay. Thanks."

The hour passed a lot quicker than he thought it would. He talked to Brad about soccer, and Luke, and a little bit about how he had first moved to Newport and met Marissa. But he backed off of the subject after a few minutes, and Brad had been fine with it. Ironically, he felt more comfortable with talking when he wasn't expected to.

Sandy was waiting for him when the session was over, and Ryan could feel his guardian's hesitation as he climbed into the BMW. Ryan felt guilty for that. He obviously wanted to ask how the session had gone, but was afraid of Ryan's biting his head off again.

"So therapy was okay," Ryan offered. "I think it'll be all right."

Sandy smiled and ruffled Ryan's hair a bit before starting the car. "Glad to hear it, kid."