Disclaimer: I obviously don't own The O.C. or its characters…that all belongs to Josh Schwartz—brilliant man, that he is!
A/N: Thank you all for your wonderful reviews. They were really encouraging and uplifting! If you have any suggestions or ideas for the story, just let me know. :0)
The next morning Marissa sat in a chair, staring off into space, her eyes occasionally glancing around the private hospital room she was staying in. Her mangled hair stuck to the sides of her sweaty face, and she was dressed in the typical white hospital gown, which matched the color of her pale skin. Marissa's eyes were red and puffy—from crying the entire night, and her normally sparkling blue orbs were glossed over and had lost their usual gleam.
Her head was spinning, thoughts constantly running through her mind. One moment she felt wracked with guilt, while the other she wanted to heave a sigh of relief that Ryan was safe, and that no one else had been harmed. Her head throbbed from the lack of sleep—she had tossed and turned the night before. Every time she closed her eyes, in attempt to get some rest, flashbacks of the shooting came flooding back to her. She desperately tried to erase the image of Trey falling to the ground, taking his last breath, looking at her in amazement—not many people thought Marissa Cooper was capable of such bold actions.
Of course, when she had picked up the weapon and aimed it at him, she really hadn't been thinking clearly. All she knew was that she had to get him off Ryan, and quickly. She couldn't just stand there and watch as the person she loved most in the world was beaten to a pulp. The rage she felt towards Trey at that moment was overpowering. All of the pent up emotions that she had been keeping inside had just lashed out of her.
Although, Ryan didn't seem mad at her…in fact he hadn't said much of anything to anyone that night, yet she was still petrified of seeing him. How could she look him in the eye? She had killed his brother. Then again, who knows how far Trey would have gone. Would he have killed his only sibling, in a moment of blind rage? No one would ever know…because she had pulled the trigger, and now he was gone. He was never coming back, and she faced murder charges. Marissa shuddered, and pulled her knees up to her chest, feeling a strong urge to cry. As much as she hated him for everything he had done to her, to Ryan, The Cohen's, despite it all she hadn't meant for him to die. She had been terrified and caught up in the moment, but would a Grand Jury—or a Judge for that matter, believe her story? After all, Ryan had been the one to initiate the fight, he was understandably upset, but couldn't the prosecution make it seem like she and Ryan were the guilty ones?
Suddenly her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. She slowly turned her head around to see who her visitor was. Jimmy stood in the doorway, wearing a sympathetic, fatherly look. His brow was wrinkled up, and it appeared that he was exhausted. She offered him a pitiful smile, and he walked over to her, seating himself in a chair next to her.
"Hey, Kiddo. How're you holding up?" he asked, observing the distressed state that she was in.
Marissa couldn't hold it in anymore, so she let all of the emotions that had been bottled up inside of her for the past few weeks out. She crumpled over into his arms, sobbing loudly. Hot tears rolled down her face, staining Jimmy's shirt. He just held her to him, and ran his hand through her hair, whispering comforting words into her ear. He rocked her back and forth, feeling like crying himself. He hated seeing his eldest daughter so upset. She was his precious little girl, his first child, his baby. He regretted leaving Newport—as refreshing as it was to start over, it had not been the most responsible thing to do. He felt sick to his stomach as he realized how his actions had affected his daughter. He had left her alone, to fend for herself, after she had given up everything for him, so that he could keep his restaurant, his apartment. How did he repay her? He had run away.
Meanwhile, Sandy sat in the hospital waiting room, with a very distressed and impatient Julie. Seth and Summer had left an hour or so ago, exhausted from a long night of questioning. Sandy resided in an uncomfortable seat, across from Julie who occupied an entire couch, her legs crossed daintily. She had been talking nonstop since he had gotten there. He understood that she was upset, but God did that woman ever shut up? She was going on and on about something or other, but Sandy had long since tuned her out. He had enough to deal with as it was.
He thought back to the night before. He had been driving home after dropping Kirsten off at the rehabilitation clinic, when he received a call from Seth. At first he assumed that the boys were just calling to see how she was doing, then he heard his son's panicked voice on the other end of the phone and he just knew that something was wrong. The traffic had been atrocious, however Sandy eventually made his way to the police station, where Summer and Seth were at. He had made them tell him every miniscule detail of the shooting, and had accompanied them in the interrogation room, where The D.A. had tried to use the two innocent teenagers as scapegoats. By the time he had made it to the hospital, it was already the next morning. He had visited Ryan, but immediately noticed that the boy wasn't up for talking—not that he ever was a person of many words—but his silence was deafening. Sandy tried to get him to speak to him about the events of the night before, however Ryan expertly changed the subject (no doubt, he had learned that move from Seth) and asked him if Kirsten was settling in, and if Marissa was holding up. Eventually Sandy decided to leave him alone for a little while, and let Seth give it a whirl at getting through to him.
He sighed in exasperation, and rested his elbows on his knees. He couldn't seem to wrap his mind around what was happening. At the beginning of the year, he was so hopeful that things were going to get better. The boys had come home, Kirsten's mood had eased up, and the workers had finally finished redecorating the house. Then Cal dropped the bombshell that he wasn't as faithful as he had led everyone to believe. They added another member to their family, Lindsay. That was when things really started to go downhill. Of course, it didn't help matters when Rebecca had come back. He had put such a strain on their already deteriorating marriage, however he had thought that he was doing the right thing, by helping Rebecca. Sandy blamed himself. He blamed himself for everything. He felt that it was his fault, for not heeding Ryan's warnings about Trey. If he hadn't brought the boy home with him, then none of them would be in such a sitch. He felt as if he should have realized Kirsten's drinking problem sooner. She was his wife, he knew everything about her… so then why was it that it took him such a long time to realize that she was in serious trouble, and needed him?
He had finally taken action and had gotten her help. Hopefully she would recover, but only time would tell. Sandy felt a lump forming in his throat as he pondered over how he was going to break this latest piece of news to her. No phone calls for seventy-two hours, the nurse had informed him. He couldn't get a hold of her for seventy-two hours, it sounded like such an extensive period of time to him. Sandy desperately needed to talk to her, apologize for everything he had put her through. Then he realized that even if he could call her, this very moment…what exactly would he say to her? "Oh, hi honey. How are you doing? By the way, Ryan's in the hospital, and Trey is dead at the hands of Marissa Cooper." No…he couldn't bear telling her such news over the telephone. As much as he needed her right now, he also needed her to get better, and not just for his sake. He would just have to wait until Kirsten was allowed to have visitors, to fill her in on the goings on.
Julie continued to ramble on incessantly, pausing every few minutes or so to make sure that Sandy was listening. She realized that he wasn't, and impeded on his thoughts.
"Sandy? Have you been paying any attention to what I've been saying?" she asked, slightly annoyed.
Sandy shook his head, and answered. "Honestly, Julie. I have enough to worry about at the moment." He turned his gaze towards a window, which was across the room from them, and resumed thinking about what was to come.
A/N: Okay, so that was Chapter Two. I didn't plan on writing so much about Sandy, but as I started to think about things, I realized that his brain must have been on overdrive. Next chapter will be more focused on Ryan and his feelings, and maybe some S/S bonding. Please, give me your honest opinion of this chapter. I know it contained a lot of narration but my next post will definitely involve a lot of dialogue.