Sorry it's taken so long for me to update... I don't own the O.C. just my car and it's definitely not a Range Rover.

Thanks to Sister Rose for being the most wonderful Beta. I tinkered afterwards so all mistakes are mine

Ryan stuck his thumb in his mouth and chewed the nail down to the skin. His hands looked atrocious. Even Kirsten had commented on it the other day. She had offered him a box of Band-Aids to stop the habit, but he needed to chew on something or else he'd be back to smoking cigarettes. And at his stress level, he'd be smoking a pack a day. He mentioned that to Kirsten, who agreed that his nails should fall victim to his stress rather than his lungs.

He continued gnawing at the nail until he chewed down all the way to his skin, as he sat in the waiting room of the clinic. Theresa had called to say she would be a few minutes late, because traffic had been heavier than she had anticipated. As soon as she came they'd get the results from the DNA test that they had taken the week before and they'd know for certain if J.T. was an Atwood or not. Kirsten grabbed Ryan's hand, yanking it from his mouth and held it firmly in hers.

Ryan looked at Kirsten out of the corners of his eyes. He found it hard to believe that in only a week and a half, Kirsten could act as if nothing had happened. For the first couple of days after his outburst, she definitely walked around him as if on tiptoes. But soon, she was back to her old self, taking charge and organizing. She found a clinic that could do a DNA test and made sure they would expedite the results so he and Theresa wouldn't have to wait very long. She made no mention of the horrid way Ryan had treated her, and didn't stop mothering Ryan while he was home on winter break.

Finally, Theresa arrived. An oversized pocket book was slung over her shoulder, strands of her long brown hair stood on ends, and J.T. trailed behind her.

"Sorry," she breathed. "I couldn't find a babysitter."

Kirsten smiled. "Hi, Theresa. It's good to see you."

Theresa smiled shyly, embarrassed that she hadn't even taken the time to say hello to Ryan's parents. She hadn't forgotten how kind the Cohens had been. If it weren't for Kirsten, she wouldn't have J.T.

Ryan knelt down so he could look J.T. in his eyes. "Hey. Remember me? We met last week."

J.T. grabbed onto the folds of Theresa's long billowy skirt and hid behind it. But he nodded at Ryan.

"Ryan, they're waiting for us," Sandy gently reminded him.

"Yeah." Ryan stood up. "We should go inside."

"How about I wait out here?" Kirsten suggested. "With J.T.? He doesn't need to be bored with all this grown up stuff." She opened her purse and dug around inside. "Is it okay if I give J.T. a candy, Theresa?"

The little boy's eyes widened and he looked hopefully at his mother. She nodded slightly and the boy, grinning widely, took the candy that Kirsten held out. His stubby little fingers ripped off the wrapper and he popped the sweet into his mouth.

"J.T.," Theresa said, "You stay here with Mrs. Cohen. Mommy will be back in a minute. Okay?"

J.T. sucked on his candy, but his head bobbed up and down. Kirsten immediately saw what Ryan meant. She hadn't known Ryan at the age of four. But he didn't look like Ryan at age four. He looked like Ryan now. If Ryan sat out in the sun a little more and colored his hair, the two of them could practically be twins.

The office wasn't exactly conducive to entertaining little boys, and Kirsten hadn't thought she'd be on babysitting duty. So she rummaged through the piles of magazines until she found a National Geographic. National Geographic always had pictures that would interest a little boy. She rushed past the pictures of the naked tribeswomen in Africa and found a page with pictures of dolphins and whales.

Distractedly, Kirsten kept one eye on the office door, where Ryan, Theresa and Sandy had disappeared, and the other eye on the little boy who could be her grandson. He squealed with delight with the picture of the dolphin jumping in the air, fish in its mouth.

"Would you like to touch a dolphin, J.T.? Maybe we can go down to Seaworld one day and touch a dolphin."

"You can do that?"

She nodded.

"How do they feel?"

"I don't know," she answered. "I never touched one myself. But I imagine it would be lots of fun." She knew she shouldn't be making promises that she might not keep. Chances were Theresa couldn't afford a trip down to Seaworld and if the tests determined Ryan wasn't the father she and Sandy wouldn't be part of the little boy's life. But every time she looked at J.T. she was more convinced that this was Ryan's son.

Sandy emerged from the office first. He caught Kirsten's eye and gave a slight nod of the head. Kirsten knew she had to take control of the situation. Ryan looked like he could barely stand. Theresa appeared slightly bent, as if someone had punched her in the gut, and the wind was knocked out of her. Looking at the two, barely out of their teens, Kirsten was reminded of how young they really were.

"Why don't we go grab something to eat," she suggested.

"J.T. and I had lunch."

"We can stop and get a coffee and donuts," insisted Kirsten. "We can talk."

"I – J.T. needs his nap. And I have to be at work later tonight. I don't want to get caught in traffic."

"Theresa, we have to talk about this. You can't just leave like this."

"I need to think, Ryan."

"You had four years to think," Ryan's voice was brusque. "We tell him today." Sandy placed a restraining arm on Ryan, while Kirsten offered a reassuring hand to the frightened little boy besides her who didn't understand what the grownups were discussing, though he recognized the anger and confusion in their voices. Theresa sighed heavily. Ryan's eyes were determined. She knew he wouldn't relent and it was easier to just do what he wanted. She glanced at her little boy, who was leaning against Kirsten, his hand firmly in hers. It was so easy for little kids to trust new people. He would be all right with the truth, she decided.

"J.T.," Theresa said, kneeling down to his eye level. "Remember when you asked me if you had a daddy?"

J.T. nodded solemnly.

"And remember how last week we came here and the doctor made you you're your mouth and he put that big Q-Tip in it? You see, mommy didn't tell you the whole truth about who your daddy is. I — I wasn't sure where your daddy was, so I made up a story. But today, the doctor told us that Ryan here, he's your daddy."

The little boy swallowed and looked up at Sandy. "Are you Ryan?"

Sandy shook his head. "No." He prodded Ryan forward. "This is Ryan."

Ryan's eyes darted around the room as he sat down on the edge of one of the waiting room chairs. It was a nice office, with a plush carpet, and cushioned chairs to sit in. The end tables were littered with old magazines for patients to peruse. Yet he thought what a crappy place to do this. Leave it to Theresa to just dive into something head first without thinking it through.

"You're my daddy?" J.T. looked at Ryan.

"Yes, I am. I'm sorry I missed so many of your birthdays."

J.T.'s beamed. "I just had my birthday." He held up four fingers. "I turned four. Mommy bought me a tricycle this year. But she said it was a very big present, so it also had to count as one of my Christmas presents too."

"A tricycle, huh? Where do you ride it?"

"Oh, I'm only allowed to ride it up and down the street and that's only if Mommy or Uncle Arturo is watching me."

"Well, that sounds like a good thing. Someone should always be there to make sure you don't get hurt."

"It's a tricycle silly. I can't get hurt. It balances all by itself."

The adults all chuckled.

"Hey, J.T., how'd you like to come visit me one time? Maybe you can have a sleep over in my house." He rolled his eyeballs upward, trying to catch a glimpse of Theresa's face. Her lips were pursed and her cheeks were a deep shade of red. Maybe he should have asked her first before springing the idea onto J.T., but he'd be damned if he'd ask permission to take his kid anywhere. He had a right to be part of J.T.'s life.

"Can I?" The little boy turned to his mother. "Pretty please, Mommy."

"We'll see mi hijo. Not today. Today, we're going to go get a treat before we go home."

"Yes, we should get going. We shouldn't waste such a lovely afternoon in the clinic's waiting room." Kirsten gathered her jacket, and handed Ryan his. She watched, pleased, as the little boy slipped his hand into Ryan's.

"Who's that lady?"

"My mom," answered Ryan.

Kirsten still felt a flush of joy every time she heard the words out of Ryan's mouth.

"And that's your daddy?" J.T. pointed at Sandy.

Ryan nodded. He caught Sandy's gaze and explained, "They're your Grandma and Grandpa." He could feel his heart beating in his throat. It was one thing to call Sandy and Kirsten his parents, but he was unsure about pinning the role of grandparents to them, especially when they were so young.

"So they're my abuelita and abuelito?"

"I know that this is probably very confusing, J.T." Kirsten reached over and stroked the little boy's cheek.

He shook his head. "No it's not." He pointed to Sandy. "You're my Abuelito." To Kirsten. "You're my Abuelita." Then to Ryan. "You're my Daddy." He slipped his free hand into Theresa's. "And you're my Mommy. Now I have a family just like on T.V. and in the books Mommy reads to me." He looked up at Kirsten his brown eyes round as saucers. "It's not confusing at all."

He tugged at Theresa's and Ryan's hands and walked forward. Ryan stumbled, but quickly regained his step. He wished he was four-years-old and could process all of this so easily.

When Ryan returned to the house, he slunk into the den and sank into the soft leather couch. He felt around aimlessly for the remote and switched on the television, blankly staring at the program that came on. He wasn't even sure what he was watching. He raked his fingers through his hair and leaned forward, putting his head through his knees. When he thought about it all, he felt nauseous.

The scent of carpet cleaner assailed his nose and he brought his head back up. He closed his eyes, trying to figure out what he would do next. Sandy had mentioned custodial arrangements, but was he even capable of taking care of a four-year-old boy? What did he even know about child care?

"So, how'd it go?" The sound of Seth's voice made Ryan jump. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I thought someone might call with the news," Seth shook his phone in the air, "But it must have been hectic."

Ryan nodded. "Sorry. Yeah. It was all just too surreal."

"So, he's your son."

Ryan nodded.

"You seemed pretty sure. I always know to trust your instincts. But you still seem shocked."

"Well, there's not turning back now. I'm a twenty-year-old dad." Ryan fell back on the couch the leather cool against his skin. "He's like this perfect little kid." Ryan filled his brother in on the details of the afternoon.

"You'll be fine, Ryan. You're the most put together person your age I know."

"Thanks."

"And my offer from four-years-ago stands. You can call on me to babysit anytime you need some help or down time."

Ryan grinned. "Thanks, man."

"We're brothers." He patted Ryan's shoulder. "I'm this kid's uncle. When do I get to meet him? He's still young. It's not too late to educate him on the wonders of comics and video games."

Ryan felt some of the tension released by Seth's easy banter. The knots loosened from his shoulders and his neck didn't feel so tight.

"J.T. doesn't know me. I've lost some important years."

Seth leaned back into the couch and took the remote from Ryan. He flipped the channel to MTV and the room filled with music.

"How much do you remember from before you were four?"

"Huh?"

"You heard me."

"Not much."

"I don't either have too many memories from before I was four. A couple maybe. But they're all hazy and unclear. Now I remember lots from when I was four. My mom would pick me up from school." Seth closed his eyes. "She would always have paint smeared on her face and she'd smell of turpentine. Dad would come home from work or school. Not sure what he was up to those days. And he'd cook dinner for us. They were simple dinners. Mac and Cheese. Burgers and fries. We weren't exactly living in the same style up in Berkley." Seth opened his eyes. "Anyway, there's a point to my rambling. It's not too late with J.T. You have your opportunity now. Just make sure you're there for him."

"Easier said than done. I'm going to be a part-time dad." Ryan waved his hand around. "I'm not going to be able to give him all this. I'm not going to be able to be a dad like Sandy. He was always with you and your mom. It's part of what makes him such a good dad."

"Others have done it. You're not going to be the first part-time dad."

"Seth, I barely have my own life together."

"You're only twenty! You haven't even finished college. Give yourself a chance."

"I work part-time for barely above minimum wage. I can't make child support payments. I'm such a loser." For the umpteenth time that day, Ryan buried his head in his hands.

"Hey, that's not true. Your crappy job won't last for long. You'll graduate in a year in a half. You'll have your degree in architecture. Mom's firm will hire you. I'm the screw-up. Not you Ryan."

"I dropped out of the architectural program at the end of the semester."

Seth's breath whistled as he inhaled sharply. "What? You wanted to become an architect for like forever. Why would you drop out?"

"Because I hated it. Now I need to declare a new major. It might delay graduation." Ryan sighed and rubbed his face with his large callused hands. "I'll e-mail my advisor and see if I can get back into the program. I have to do what's right for my son."

Ryan stood, his shoulders sagging. Seth looked on sadly as Ryan walked out of the room. He hadn't realized how much Ryan had hated the program. He had witnessed a couple of frustrated nights, when Ryan had sat over his drafting table in their very crowded dorm room and crumpled up sketch after sketch. But he had assumed that the project wasn't working for him, much like the writer's block that Seth often experienced. He hadn't realized that Ryan hated what he was doing, that he was frustrated with the program, not the particular project.

He knew Ryan well. He had been put on the fast track for to becoming an architect since the fall he had returned from Chino; after Theresa had supposedly lost the baby. When they had graduated from high school his parents had asked him what major he was considering. They hadn't asked Ryan. Everyone knew Ryan was going to be an architect. As Seth finished each semester his parents pushed him to figure out what direction he was going to take. Everyone knew Ryan was going to be an architect.

It must have taken Ryan a lot of courage to drop out of the program. If the news of J.T. hadn't surfaced, Seth was certain his brother would have broken the news to their parents. He wasn't sure how Sandy and Kirsten would take the news. Kirsten would be disappointed. She was looking forward to working side by side with Ryan. Sandy would probably be supportive. But now Ryan was going to go ahead and continue in a profession that was making him miserable just because he needed to provide for a child. Seth knew that was wrong.

The scent of garlic and onions wafted through the house and into the den. His parents must have ordered take out. He hoped it was Chinese and there were dumplings. He wiped his sweaty palms on the top of his slacks. He needed to tell his parents about Ryan. They needed to convince Ryan that continuing on a course of study that made him miserable was a bad idea for himself and for J.T. And he had to tell his parents his news about Summer. He wiped his hands one more time and slipped the ring off of his finger and into his pocket.