A/N: Yeah, it's kind of been forever and ever and then some. I apologize. I'd go into a long-winded explanation, but that would pretty much bore everyone to tears.

Chapter 15

Kirsten's eyes fluttered open and she groaned.

Something shifted on her lap and she looked down. A sad smile found her lips and she stroked Ryan's hair gently.

When he'd first walked into her home she'd never imagined he's become her son. Her son. She couldn't imagine him sobbing on his shoulder. She certainly couldn't imagine him lying on the couch with his head resting on her lap.

They hadn't spoken. He'd cried and she'd held him, and that seemed to be what he really needed. There were no words that could calm fears. They could watch Seth's sickness progress for months and then have nothing to show for it. As much as Kirsten didn't want to admit to that reality, she was confronted with it head-on when Ryan broke down the night before.

She had to be strong now. Ryan couldn't be the adult. He couldn't be the strong one. She wouldn't let him run everything, comfort everyone. She was the parent, and though she as scared, she had a responsibility to her boys.

Tears grew in her eyes as she brushed her fingers across Ryan's face. She took note of the almost invisible scars that adorned his features. He'd been hurt before.

"Mom.." Ryan mumbled in his sleep.

Kirsten knew that the mom Ryan was dreaming about was in Chino, drinking, working, maybe drowning in regrets. No, Kirsten was not his mother. It wasn't a title she could take over in a moment's time. But she was his guardian.

"I will protect you," she whispered to the sleeping boy, a few tears sliding down her cheeks. She leaned over and placed a light kiss on each of his scars.

Ryan didn't stir. He lay, vulnerable, troubled, sad, but peaceful for the moment. Kirsten could still feel his body shaking in her arms, his head buried into her neck. She put a hand over her mouth to cover a sob.

"Mmm..Kirsten," Ryan's eyes opened, just barely. He was clearly too hazy to be embarrassed by his current situation. There was no jumping off, rapid fire apologies.

"Hi, Ryan," Kirsten said quietly, brushing the hair off of his forehead.

"Thank you," Ryan whispered softly, before his eyes closed once more, settling into sleep.

"No." Kirsten shook her head slightly. "Thank you."

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"You're okay. You're okay. You're going to be fine."

Seth clutched Sandy's hand tightly, his whole body shaking. His father's words poured over him, but he couldn't distinguish what he was saying.

"It'll be over in a second, I promise." Sandy rubbed the back of Seth's neck, trying to avoid looking at the needle stuck in his son' back. He felt heat explode behind his eyes. "You're okay. You're okay."

"H-Hurts," Seth slurred, his head jerking backward. He moaned. "Oh my god, oh my god.."

"Shhh..shhhh…it's gonna be fine. I promise." Sandy pressed his lips against Seth's forehead, still quietly muttering "shhh."

"D-dad..d-dad..hurts…bad.." Seth let out a guttural moan.

"Look at me. Focus on my eyes. C'mon kid, it's just a little longer."

Seth's blurred eyes found his father's green ones. All he could feel was the shooting pain in his back. It seemed to tear up his whole body. He felt so wasted. He couldn't hide from the pain anymore, deny it or cover it up with jokes or shifts in conversation. He couldn't bite back the yells and groans. He was in pain.

"That's it, kiddo. That's it." Sandy wiped the sweat from Seth's brow.

"All done," the doctor announced, quickly turning and walking away, leaving father and son alone together.

Seth took a few shallow breaths. He was panting heavily and he could still feel the pain shooting through his tired body. He hated the needles. He hated the tests. He hated scaring his father. He hated needing him to get through this. He hated going through this.

"Do you want a glass of water?" Sandy asked, already filling one up for him with the pitcher that lay on the nightstand.

He nodded, biting his lip.

With gentle touch, Sandy lifted Seth's head and held the glass to his lips. Seth took a few tentative sips.

"And I thought chemo was a bitch," Seth mumbled.

Sandy laughed a little too loudly as he replaced the glass. He slumped in the chair by Seth's bed.

"Try and get some sleep, son," he suggested, running a hand through his dark hair. "That'll help with the pain."

"I doubt it," Seth mused, yawning. "But Tahiti's waiting." His eyelids drooped closed. "I'll see you when I get back."

Groaning, Sandy buried his head into his hands. It never got any easier, watching his son suffer. He wanted to take the pain away from him, set it on himself if that's what it took. But that wasn't an option. He couldn't trade places with Seth. He could just sit by his side and offer what meager comfort he could.

He hoped he was doing it right.

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Sandy was startled awake by a very loud, very familiar voice.

"Sleeping through my arrival. How nice."

His eyes snapped open. The woman in front of him did not smile. She gave him The Look. The Look was used when his dad ran off, when his girlfriend dumped him, when he broke his arm. The Look of pity and sadness and love and concern and something he could never quite place.

"Ma," he whispered, taking two steps forward and wrapping his arms around her.

"Now, now, Sandford, it's going to be all right." Sophie's arms encircled her son and she rocked him side to side slowly.

Sandy buried his head against his mother's neck. He wasn't thinking about the thousands of times she hadn't been there for him. Those didn't matter. She was here now.

Sophie pulled back slightly, taking a good look at his face.

"You need a break, sweetheart," she informed him, planting a kiss on her cheek. "I had to take care of a few things, but I got here." She glanced over at Seth. "And how's my little Sethula?"

"He's-"

"Honestly?"

"He's not uh, he's not doing well." Sophie rubbed Sandy's arm as he spoke.

"Well, we're just going to have to do something about that, huh?" Sophie paused. "Where's that wife of yours?"

"Kirsten is at home, with Ryan."

Sophie nodded. She placed a firm hand on Seth's chest and bent down close to his ear.

"Sethula, sweetheart, Nana's here," she said.

"Nana?" Seth asked, groaning. He sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He saw Sophie. He saw The Look. It was The Look he got when she came on her few visits. When he spent all of his time in his room, when he came home with a black eye.

"Hello dear." Sophie took her grandson into her arms. "I almost didn't recognize you without those locks of yours."

"My Jewfro," Seth replied fondly.

"Well that sense of humor has stayed intact then, hasn't it?"

"You bet, Nana."

Sophie kissed his cheek. "Well that's all you really need, anyway."

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Sandy and Sophie sat on the waiting room couch. Once Seth had fallen asleep yet again, they'd gone for a mostly silent walk around the hospital, before ending up in the waiting room.

"How are you, Sandford?" Sophie asked quietly. "I'm sure they don't ask you that question enough."

"I'm tired, Ma," Sandy admitted, rubbing his eye. "Tired and scared. I've never been this..lost before." He shook his head, fighting off emotion. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

"I know, sweetheart," Sophie cooed softly. She pushed Sandy's head onto her shoulder. "You stay there for awhile."

"Thanks Ma." Sandy exhaled loudly. "I'm sorry..all those years ago, I left, and we-we were fighting. I never really said good-bye. Or sorry."

"You had to go," Sophie said simply, running her fingers through Sandy's dark hair. "It's all happened. Pain is pain. It comes and then it goes."

Sandy took a deep breath, enjoying his mother's warm fingernails tracing their way around his scalp. He missed that feeling of security that she had rarely ever given him. It felt nice to be the head on somebody's shoulder, to not have to be so goddamned strong.

"When you were just a little boy, you always talked about children." Sophie spoke into his hair. "You wanted them so badly. You were the only boy in the neighborhood who liked playing house as much as he liked baseball." She smiled. "And you were equally good at both." She closed her eyes, remembering her son running through the neighborhood, his laughter, his joy. "You looked like Sethula."

"I know," Sandy whispered, trembling.

"You always had the family with all of the drama when you played house. You couldn't pay the bills, car accidents, tragedies." Sophie pulled him a little closer to her. "You liked having someone need you. You liked people depending on you."

"I don't know if I'm strong enough for this, Ma. Seth's real. I don't know how to do this right."

Sophie chuckled. "Oh Sandy, there is no right way. There's your way. And that's what your little boy needs. Because he's going to grow up, and he'll still need you. He'll have pain and he'll need you to hold him. He'll need your shoulder and your way." Sophie paused. "And he loves you now. You don't have to work for it with him." She put a hand under Sandy's chin and titled it upward so she could look into his eyes. "I see the way he looks at you. Don't mess that up."

"I love you, Ma."

"I know." Sophie sighed. "I made you grow up too fast, didn't I?"

"But look what I turned into. Look what I've got." Sandy gestured around the waiting room, but they could both see his family and his room and his work.

"I'd like to say this was my plan all along, but I'm afraid I'd be a liar." Sophie kissed the top of her son's head. "I love you." She paused. "It's Schwarzenneger I'm having a little trouble with."

"He grows on you," Sandy replied.

"Not if he's a Republican, he doesn't," Sophie replied, mock stern.

"I figured as much." Sandy laughed quietly. "How's California treated you so far?"

"Dreadfully," Sophie replied, shuddering. "The airports alone are enough to make a grown man cry."

Sandy listened to his mother rattle off the never-ending list of all of the horrors of California living. And he smiled. Faintly, but it was a smile, and it was a start.