Sorry for the delay. I had this sitting around for a while. I have lots of chapter three written, but I'm going to work on my chrismukkah challenge...

If I owned the O.C. and its characters, I wouldn't have to worry about raising money for my library! And I could buy all the kids books.
Oh and there is a copy of this on livejournal

Sandy studied Ryan from the corner of his eyes, but didn't force any conversation. Ryan was clenching and unclenching his fists so that they turned white until he released them and let the blood start circulating again. He hadn't seen his son like this in ages. Not since high school.

They drove five-minutes in utter silence. Sandy didn't even know where he was going, but Ryan wasn't offering directions to Theresa's house. Finally Ryan said, "Theresa has a four-year-old son."

Sandy slammed on the breaks, causing both of them to fly forward. Their seatbelts snapped them back into their seats, preventing any real injury. Even so, Ryan's hands flew forward bracing himself on the dashboard and he felt a shooting pain in his wrist.

Sandy rubbed the back of his head. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Ryan swallowed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to—"

He pulled over to the side of the road and unbuckled his seatbelt. "Did I hear you right? Theresa has four-year-old boy?"

Mutely, Ryan nodded.

"Are you sure?"

He shrugged. "Trey told me. He was so nonchalant. I – I never told him about that summer. I don't think he realizes—"

"Don't jump the gun, Ryan."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Ryan's raised his voice a few octaves.

Sandy didn't take the bait. He kept his voice level, despite Ryan's obvious anger. "You were never sure if Theresa was carrying your child. You don't know if she even has a son and you definitely don't know if it's yours."

"That's what I was going to find out."

"Hey, kid. Calm down. I'm on your side." Sandy placed a hand on Ryan's shoulder, but the boy shrugged it off.

Taking a deep breath he said, "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to process all of this."

"So let's go and try to figure this thing out. You know how to get to Theresa's place?"

Ryan nodded. He had lived in Chino, next door to Theresa, for most of his formative years. He could find her house in his sleep. That was if she still lived with her mother. Ryan had not even had the clarity of mind to find out where she lived or where Arturo was babysitting. He had just bolted from Trey's place without thinking things through.

When they were in front of his childhood home, Ryan averted his gaze, forcing himself to focus on something else, so the deluge of memories — of Dawn and her string of boyfriends and finally her kicking him out of the house — would not take over his emotions and thoughts. He fixed his eyes on Theresa's home; the place which was filled with the happy portions of his childhood memories; of school musicals, spicy enchiladas, stolen beers and his first time with a girl.

But those memories weren't enough to wash away the anger that was welling up inside of him. Theresa had lied. She had told him that her baby had died. That it was okay for him to go back to the Cohens. She had never given him the opportunity to do right by his child. He had left Newport before his junior year to be with Theresa so he could do the right thing and not burden the family he had come to love. But she had stolen everything out from under him.

He undid his seatbelt and sprang forward. But Sandy put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"Do you know what you're going to say?"

"That I want to see my kid."

"If it is your kid. You can't go in there half-cocked. You need a plan."

Ryan swallowed and sank back into the plush leather seat. He knew Sandy was right. He sometimes hated it that Sandy was always right. "What should I do?"

"Stay calm. Don't start throwing around accusations. We need to get to the bottom of this. Is Theresa even home?"

He shook his head. "According to Trey, Arturo's babysitting."

"So ask to see the kid, but don't start talking about lies and betrayal. Don't go there yet. If this kid is in there, possibly your kid, you don't want to scare him."

"Can – can you come in with me?"

Suddenly, Ryan felt small and afraid, like he had on the first day of Kindergarten. Then Trey had held his hand tightly and had walked his little brother into the classroom. Trey didn't let go of his hand until Ryan had made eye contact with another little kid and Ryan was ready to run off and play by himself. Trey could never be that person in his life anymore. He knew that. Trey was too self-centered and too screwed-up for that. When Ryan had moved to Newport, it had been Sandy who had assumed that roll of protector. There was no one he trusted more than Sandy.

"Of course."

Together Sandy and Ryan dragged their feet up the walk. They came to the door, but neither one reached for the doorbell. Ryan studied his feet, trying to muster the courage to go inside the house. Maybe Arturo wasn't there. Maybe it was all a big mistake and he wasn't going to possibly find out that he was a father. He would close his eyes and open them again and not find out that he had abandoned a son for the first four years of his life.

"Somebody's got to ring the bell if we're going to get anywhere."

They just stood there and laughed together, until suddenly the door swung open, knocking Ryan in the chin.

"Oh shit. Sorry man, I didn't—"Arturo, holding a leaky bag of trash, stopped mid-sentence. "Ryan? Ryan Atwood?"

"Hey, man. How've you been?" Ryan rubbed his chin. It felt as if his teeth had been knocked into the back of his head.

Arturo stretched out his free hand and Ryan took it in his. He was exactly the same as Ryan remembered, only a couple of inches taller than Ryan, five foot ten inches, but his build was stocky. Arturo's pecks bulged in his tattered wife beater, nearly twice as thick as Ryan's own finely toned biceps. His jet black hair was greased back and sometime since he had last seen him, Ryan noticed that his brother's friend started sporting a small goatee.

"It's good to see you. How's life been treating you out of the slammer?"

"Pretty good." Arturo's eyes rested on Sandy.

"Oh. Hey, sorry. This is Sandy Cohen, my foster father." The awkwardness was long gone from the statement. Often, Ryan dropped the foster from the title, but Arturo was from his life before the Cohens. He couldn't pretend with Arturo. "Sandy, this is Theresa's brother, Arturo."

They shook hands.

"Is Theresa home?"

Arturo skipped down the walk and threw out the bag of garbage that was starting to form a smelly puddle around their feet. "No," he called over his shoulder. "She had to go to work last minute. Did she know you were coming?"

"No. Um, so you're babysitting?"

Arturo stopped, one foot in the air. His eyes darted back and forth from Sandy to Ryan. "Um —"

"Trey told me she had a kid."

"Since when are you talking to Trey?" Arturo mumbled a string of expletives under his breath. "I would never have brought J.T. along that day had I known."

"I never told Trey about Theresa and that summer, but we've been in touch for a while. It's obvious he doesn't know who the kid's father could be." Ryan drew in a deep breath, trying to steady his shaking hand as he said, "I want to see him Arturo."

"Well, he's taking a nap. And I'm not going to risk you waking him. I still have another six hours with him. And he's a real little shit when he gets cranky."

Ryan ignored Arturo's offensive comment. J.T. was just a kid, but he knew that didn't make a difference in Arturo's mind. He also knew that Arturo would never hurt a little kid. It was part of his code of ethics.

"I won't wake him. I just want to see him."

"It's not a good idea, Ryan."

"I don't give a damn if it's a good idea or not. It wasn't a good idea for Theresa to hide the truth from me for four years, but she did. And now I found out, so let me see my son."

"We don't know that it's your son."

Ryan whirled around to face Sandy, the back of his open button-down shirt flying behind him. His face was red. His blue eyes blazed as bright hottest flame in the fire. "So then why did she keep it from me? If it wasn't my kid, then why couldn't she tell me that she had one?"

"Eddie doesn't know about it either, Ryan. Theresa decided it was best to keep both of you in the dark. For different reasons, but she was doing the best thing for her and her kid."

"And how is keeping the kid's father away from him the best thing?" He swung back to face Arturo. "A boy needs his father!" Ryan slammed his fist into the metal screen door, leaving a dent. He rubbed the raw red knuckles, cursing silently. He felt more shooting pain in his wrist.

"Ryan, if you don't calm down, I'm just going to take you back home. I won't let you go inside." Sandy took him by the shoulders, forcing Ryan to look him in the face. "I know you're upset. You have every right to be upset, but please calm down for J.T.'s sake."

Ryan tried to regain control of his raggedy breath, knowing Sandy meant what he said. He would drag him back into the car if Ryan didn't settle down.

"What does J.T. stand for?" Ryan asked quietly.

"Juan Tomas."

"After your grandfather?"

Arturo nodded. "If you're real quiet, you can come in. Just to look. Don't wake him. And if he does wake up, just tell him you're my friend. He's just a little kid. Don't start confusing him."

"Thanks, man."

Ryan followed Arturo inside. He was led into Theresa's old bedroom. The king sized bed and the night table were still there, but off in the corner, where he used to throw his dirty clothes, was a small toddler bed. He saw a little boy curled up under the covers. Shaggy black hair fell into his eyes. His skin was olive and though Ryan couldn't see his eyes, he knew they were probably brown just like Theresa's. He tiptoed closer, not daring to wake up the angelic looking child. When he was close to the bed, he squatted down so his eyes were level with the little boy's head.

"Sandy," he whispered. The little boy stirred, but didn't wake up.

Sandy, who was standing just inside the doorway, walked up and bent down behind Ryan. At first he wasn't sure what Ryan wanted him to see. He just watched him tracing the outline of J.T.'s face, without actually touching the young boy. And then he saw it. And Sandy hitched his breath as he realized what he was seeing.

J.T.'s coloring was all Theresa's but he followed Ryan's finger, tracing the straight line of his jaw ending in a square chin. And though the child's face was half buried in the pillow, Sandy could see the high cheekbones that were so much like Ryan's. The nose too belonged to his son. It was straight and long and hooked slightly at the end. The coloring may have been Theresa's but the features were all Ryan.

They sat staring at the little boy, with pudgy little wrists, and peaceful looking face until they could barely feel their legs. Finally, they heard Arturo quietly clearing his throat. Sandy tapped Ryan and motioned that it was time to go.

In the living room, Ryan said, "That's my son."

"We don't know if that's true."

"Look at him Arturo. Sandy, you saw it too."

Sandy hated saying it, but he knew it was the right thing to do. "Ryan, Arturo's right. We don't know anything for certain. Let Theresa call you and then we can arrange for a paternity test. Okay?"

Ryan shook his head so that his sandy bangs fell into his eyes, making him look sixteen again. Sandy threw a hand over Ryan's shoulder, but he felt his shoulders tense and knew it was the wrong thing to do. He just wasn't sure what Ryan needed now; a father or a lawyer. But all his instincts, father and lawyer, told him to get Ryan the hell out of there. To bring him home to Newport and get him far away from Chino so that they could calmly sort everything out. But he knew that if he suggested it, there would be a fight on his hand. So he needed Ryan to come to the realization on his own.

"I'm just looking out for Theresa and her kid, Ryan. They're my family."

"My family too."

"We go a long way back, hombre. It's not that I don't feel for you. It's just that I don't know how I can help you. Theresa has done a hell of a job with this kid. Especially once our mother got sick and she had to do it all alone."

"Ryan," Sandy pressed. "We're going around in circles. We'll call Theresa tomorrow if she doesn't call you first."

"I can't leave him."

"Yes you can."

Sandy forced himself to assume a firm voice, letting Ryan know he meant business. He didn't often treat him like a child anymore, telling him what to do or where to go and how late to stay out. He left that to Kirsten, who still had a hard time realizing the boys were adults. But right now, Ryan needed someone to set him straight to make sure he did the right thing for both him and the little boy in the other room. Ryan needed to come home now.

He took Ryan by the arm. "If we have to, we'll come back tomorrow. And we'll keep coming back to set this straight. But right now, you're coming home." He ignored Ryan's sullen look, because Sandy could tell that he was ready to give in and leave. "Arturo, thank you for everything. Please let Theresa know that we're waiting for her call… and that we're not going away."

With that, Sandy led Ryan out of the house and into his car.