Wow. Thanks for all the great reviews. Thanks again to Muchtvs and Storymom for the help. And Maudgonne came home in time to help too.

Relief flooded over her when Kirsten realized she had found Ryan, but new worry quickly took its place when she saw the blood in his hair. She knelt down by his face and tried to wake him up. "Ryan." She gently shook his shoulder. "Ryan, honey, are you okay?"

He stirred a little and tried to shake her hand off his arm.

"Ryan," she said more forcefully. "Open your eyes, please."

She watched him struggle against sleep. His face grimaced in pain and he opened his eyes, then quickly squinted against the light. She was about to ask him what happened when she saw his face go ashen. It was a look she'd seen many times as a mother, and she quickly stepped back and grabbed Seth's trash can as he retched over the side of the bed. Sandy was suddenly there, sitting behind him on the bed, holding him as the wave of nausea passed through him.

He slumped back down on the bed, face buried in the covers.

"You still with us, kid?" Sandy asked.

There was a slight nod. "My head hurts."

Sandy started rubbing his back and Kirsten could see him staring at the blood-matted hair. "I imagine it does."

He struggled to sit up and Sandy helped him. "What time is it?" he asked.

Kirsten checked her watch. "Almost eleven."

"I thought it was morning," he said. "Why are you home?"

"We were looking for you, kid," Sandy said. "Can you tell us what happened?"

He looked at Kirsten, his face full of confusion. "I don't know." He looked around, as though aware for the first time where he was. "Why are we in Seth's room?"

Kirsten had been hoping he'd be able to answer that question. "It's where we found you."

He nodded, as though that made sense to him, and she supposed it made as much sense as anything else going on.

"Why don't we get you downstairs?" Kirsten said.

Ryan started to stand up, but stopped halfway. "Dizzy," he said.

Sandy put a steadying arm around him and helped him out the door and down the stairs. As Kirsten watched their forward progress and how much Ryan was relying on Sandy for stability, she wondered how he ever made it up the stairs by himself and thanked their good fortunes that he hadn't fallen and hurt himself worse.

"I couldn't find the Tylenol," he stated halfway down the stairs.

Sandy looked over his shoulder at her, and it felt good to know that they could still communicate without speaking. "Hey, Ryan," he said. "We were thinking the hospital would probably have some good pain medication for that headache you have."

"I don't need to go to the hospital," he said. They had reached the bottom of the stairs and he pulled away from Sandy. Kirsten gasped as he almost toppled down the three stairs into the living room before Sandy caught him. He put his hand on the wall and shook Sandy off again. "I'm fine." He walked on his own over to the couch. "Just a little dizzy once and while."

"Ryan," Kirsten said, "what happened this morning?"

He turned to look at her, intense concentration on his face. "Morning. What time is it?"

"It's eleven," she told him again. "How did you hurt your head?"

He reached his hand up to the back of his head. "I don't…" He paused and Kirsten could see him trying really hard to remember. "I don't know."

"Unless you can explain the last four hours, we're taking you to the hospital."

Ryan lowered his eyes and shook his head.

"All right." She put her arm around his shoulders and gently directed him back towards Sandy. "You two go get in the car. I'll grab an ice pack and meet you there."

"And shoes," Sandy added, pointing at Ryan's stocking feet.

"Right," she said. "An ice pack and I'll grab your boots from the pool house."

Ryan sat in the car waiting for Kirsten, upset with himself for not being able to remember what happened. He knew he should be able to, he should know how he ended up with a bumped head, but he couldn't bring the memories back.

Sandy was turned around in the front seat, watching him. He knew he wasn't acting properly, not being able to remember his day, but he didn't think he was that fascinating to watch. "I'm all right, Sandy. Or I will be."

Sandy smiled at him, though the smile seemed more placating than genuine. "I know. It's just a parent's prerogative to worry."

The front door closed and they watched Kirsten juggle the boots and the ice as she struggled to lock the door behind her.

"And speaking of worry," Sandy said with a nod toward Kirsten, "you haven't seen anything yet."

Ryan watched as Kirsten opened the backdoor. He thought she was just going to pass him his boots and the ice, and was surprised when she actually climbed into the backseat with him. "What are you doing?" he asked.

She had just put his boots on the seat beside him and was starting to arrange the bag of ice inside a tea towel. She stopped what she was doing and laid her hand on his arm. She looked him in the eye. "We're taking you to the hospital," she said, her voice filled with concern.

"I know that," he said. "I meant…" He looked at Kirsten looking at him, completely unaware that her sitting in the backseat with him was strange. "Never mind."

She stared at him for a second longer before she went back to wrapping the ice. She brought the pack up to the back of his head, and as it touched, he flinched involuntarily and pulled away. "Sorry," he said.

She attempted to place the pack on his head again, and again he pulled away. Now she placed her hand against the side of his face and held him still as she pressed the ice to his head. He closed his eyes, steeling himself from the ache and cold the ice brought with it. "It hurts," he said.

She took his hand in hers. "Just breathe," she said, and he hadn't realized he was holding his breath against the pain. "Give it a minute to numb, and it'll feel better."

Kirsten was right, and he started to relax as the pain started to lessen.

"Do you want to hold the ice now?" she asked.

He put his hand on the ice and leaned his head against the window. He didn't know why he felt so tired.

"How you doing back there, kid?"

Ryan looked up and met Sandy's eyes in the rearview mirror.

"We're almost there. Another five minutes."

Ryan nodded at him.

Kirsten leaned over, placing her hand on his arm. "I'm going to get your boots on for you, okay?"

He straightened up and leaned forward. "I can…"

"You can hold the ice to your head." She pushed him gently back against the seat. "It'll be easier if I do it."

As he was sitting with his legs up on Kirsten's lap, watching her tie his boots in the confined space of the backseat of Sandy's car, he wasn't sure what about this qualified as 'easier'.

He hadn't realized they had pulled into the hospital until the car came to a stop. Sandy helped him out of the car and passed him off to Kirsten before going to park. He fought the urge to shake Kirsten off, and let her help him inside.

Sandy hurried across the parking lot, anxious to get back to Ryan and Kirsten. When Seth had first called and told him that Ryan wasn't in school and wasn't picking up the phone, Sandy hadn't been too worried – he thought he'd just overslept. It wasn't like Ryan to oversleep, but he was a teenager, and it wasn't out of the realm of possibilities.

When Kirsten called to say she found blood in the pool house but no Ryan, he started to worry a little. Sandy was more concerned that he was missing than about the blood; Ryan was a tough kid and Sandy had seen him shrug off a lot of hurt in his life but it wasn't like him to take off without telling anyone.

Seeing Kirsten so flustered when he'd gotten to the house had actually calmed him. Someone had to be composed; in their marriage, they tended to take turns in that role. If she had had things under control, he probably would have allowed more room for panic.

So when she called his name, indicating that she'd found Ryan, a wave of relief swept over him thinking the crisis was over, but seeing Ryan so discombobulated on waking had caused his heart to jump into his throat. He felt sick at the thought that Ryan had been alone in the house, wandering around confused.

As they had driven to the hospital, Ryan had seemed to gain some clarity, though he'd still been quite shaky on his feet when he'd dropped them off. He wanted to be there when the doctor saw him – wanted to find out what happened to cause this state of affairs.

He quickly scanned the waiting area, but couldn't see them. That meant they were in to see the doctor right away; a good thing because it meant they wouldn't have a long wait but a bad thing because if they put him in right away it meant that the hospital personnel thought he needed immediate care too. He inquired at the desk as to their whereabouts and was directed to Exam Area Two.

He pulled the curtain open and found Ryan sitting on a stretcher and a nurse drawing blood. As she was putting the band-aid on his arm, she noticed Sandy standing there. "Are you the dad?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, smiling at Ryan. "Sandy Cohen." He made a point of mentioning his name – he didn't want Ryan to feel embarrassed if she called him Mr. Atwood by mistake.

"Your wife is filling out some forms for us – she should be back soon. I'm just getting some information before the doctor gets here." She turned back to Ryan. "Can you lie down for me, honey, so I can look at your head?"

Ryan complied. Sandy put his hand on Ryan's ankle. He wasn't sure why – he just wanted to be sure Ryan knew he was there.

"Can you tell me what happened, Ryan?"

"I don't remember," he whispered.

"That's all right," she said. "Just think back and tell me what you do remember."

Ryan stuck his tongue between his teeth, and it made Sandy smile. It was a classic Ryan move when he was concentrating hard – he'd seen it many times when he came across Ryan working on his homework.

When he didn't answer right away, the nurse prompted him. "Do you remember getting up this morning?"

Ryan winced as the nurse examined his wound. "Yeah." Sandy saw some light dawn in his eyes. "I remember taking a shower."

"Good," she said. "Okay, you can sit up now. You keep working on remembering and I'll go get the doctor."

Ryan pulled his legs up and rested his head on his knees. "Why can't I remember, Sandy?"

"I think it's because you knocked your head pretty hard."

Ryan smiled wryly and shook his head. "Is it still morning?"

Sandy checked his watch, aware that that was the third time Ryan had asked about the time. "Barely," he said. "Do you have somewhere you need to be?"

Ryan looked at him, confused, and shook his head.

Sandy nudged his legs. Ryan swung them down over the side and Sandy leaned on the gurney next to him and put his arm around his shoulders.

"We're sorry you were alone for so long this morning."

Ryan shrugged his shoulders. "You didn't know, right?"

"God, no." He squeezed Ryan's shoulder. "Why didn't you call anyone?"

"I don't know. It didn't occur to me, I guess."

Sandy reflected on that. He hoped it was that he was too confused to think to call someone, though he knew that a kid like Ryan who'd spent his early years learning that asking for help was usually futile, eventually got to the point of not even bothering.

Kirsten was getting frustrated. Every time she thought she had given all the information they wanted, someone handed her 'one more form' to fill out. The latest request was for her health insurance card and her driver's license so they could make a copy. She felt like throwing her wallet at the nurse and letting her root through it. She just wanted to get back to Ryan. He'd been alone all morning – she didn't want him to be alone anymore. Instead, she put on her best polite face and hoped this was the last hoop to jump through.

Finally she was finished and the nurse offered to bring her back to Ryan. She forced herself to keep pace with the nurse – there was no use rushing ahead if she didn't know where she was going.

When she got to Ryan, Sandy and the doctor were already with him. The doctor was shining a light into Ryan's eyes, and from the way he blinked and pulled his head back when the doctor was finished, she could tell he wasn't impressed.

The nurse placed a bracelet on Ryan's wrist as Kirsten slipped in beside Sandy, sliding her arm around his waist. The doctor continued to examine Ryan – testing his reflexes, examining his head – as he grilled Ryan about what he could remember.

"So after your shower, what did you do next?"

"Got dressed?"

"Do you remember getting dressed," the doctor asked, "or are you just guessing?"

Ryan closed his eyes. "I don't know."

The doctor placed his hand on Ryan's upper arm, and that was when Kirsten noticed that his hands were tightly clenched into fists. "Relax, Ryan," the doctor said. "It'll come back."

He turned his attention to Sandy and Kirsten. "Ryan seems to have taken quite a bump to the head, giving himself a concussion. His reflexes are good and there's no slur in his speech. Though his equilibrium has been thrown off a little and he seems to be having trouble remembering what happened, it's to be expected with an injury like this and isn't a great cause for concern. I'm going to close his wound up with some medical glue, and then we'll send him down for a CT scan, but that's just for precaution."

"You're using glue instead of stitches?" Sandy asked.

"It's quicker, and it's easier on the patient – no numbing is required."

The nurse came back with a tray and they got Ryan to lie down on his side. As the doctor worked on his head, he continued to talk to Ryan.

"What do you remember after the bump? Anything before your parents found you?"

"I thought I was…" Ryan trailed off, and Kirsten saw a flash of something in his eyes, almost like fear, but it disappeared as quickly at it appeared.

"You thought you were what?" the doctor encouraged.

"I thought I was going to be sick."

Kirsten didn't think that was his original thought, but he was still fairly confused from the bump on his head, so she couldn't be sure.

"I, um, I remember my stomach feeling bad and trying to get to the bathroom."

"What next?" the doctor prompted.

"I was in the kitchen, wondering where Kirsten kept the Tylenol."

Kirsten noticed he was telling the story like it was a half-remembered dream, just bits and pieces of the narrative, but not a complete story.

"Who's Kirsten?" the doctor asked.

Ryan looked at her and hesitated. She knew it was difficult to explain their relationship without going into the backstory, and while he felt like her son, she knew he had a mother. "That's me," Kirsten said, avoiding any labels needing to be assigned.

"And then I woke up in Seth's room," Ryan said.

"And who's Seth?"

Ryan hesitated again and this time Sandy jumped in. "He's our other son."

The doctor looked over at them, seemingly frustrated. Kirsten presumed he had wanted to keep Ryan talking to determine how coherent he was, or maybe he was concerned at Ryan's hesitation. Kirsten didn't care about the doctor's frustration – she knew Ryan knew who they were, and they didn't need it said out loud.

"All done here," the doctor said. "I'll send a wheelchair in to take you down to radiology and then you should be good to go."

"I can walk," Ryan said, and Kirsten's heart went out to him because she knew he hated to be dependent on anyone, and she also knew he wasn't getting out of this one.

"Nice try," the doctor said.

The CT scan came back clear, as expected. Sandy stayed in the ER, helping Ryan get ready to go, while Kirsten handled the discharge paperwork.

Ryan was finally allowed to leave the hospital, albeit with several prescriptions and a long list of follow-up instructions. He felt stupid enough for his accident. He knew the last thing Sandy and Kirsten needed was to have to hassle with going to the pharmacy and keeping an eye on him. When they got into the car, Ryan was relieved to see that Kirsten sat in the front seat this time.

Ryan woke up as the car pulled to a stop back at the house. The combination of his concussion, the painkillers they gave him at the hospital, and the motion of the car conspired against him being able to keep his eyes open.

He opened his eyes to find Kirsten turned around in her seat. "How're you doing?" she asked.

He rubbed his hand over his face. "Not one of my better days," he said.

As they made their way inside, the Cohens let him walk on his own, though he was aware that they were watching him closely. Sandy stayed near enough to catch him if he became off-balance on the stairs.

"I'm gonna go lie down," he said when they reached the kitchen.

"Why don't you lie down on the couch in here instead?" Kirsten said.

He stopped at the door. "Why?"

Sandy and Kirsten exchanged glances. "Because," Sandy said, "I don't want to have to schlep myself all the way out to the pool house to wake you up every couple of hours."

Sandy was smiling at him, but he had the feeling that going to the pool house wasn't an option. "I thought you were going back to work," Ryan muttered as he walked back to the den.

"Nope," Sandy said. "There's nothing pressing that Matt can't handle, so it's not worth the bother."

Ryan glanced at Kirsten questioningly. "Me either," she said. "No clients this afternoon."

He sat down on the couch. He was about to let his head rest on the back of the couch, but thought better of it. The back of his head was still quite sensitive.

Kirsten came over and set a bottle of apple juice with a bendy straw on the coffee table in front of him. "Here," she said, "let's get your boots off so you can lie down and be more comfy."

After the horror and humiliation of her putting his boots on for him in the car, he wasn't ready for a repeat performance. "I've got it," he said.

As he was taking them off, Kirsten retrieved a blanket from the hall closet. She spread it out over him as he lay down on his side. He drank some juice before he drifted off again.

He woke up when he heard Seth's voice coming from the kitchen.

"So you guys have just been watching him sleep all afternoon?" he said. "I'm sure he loved that."

"He's been asleep, Seth," Sandy said. "He barely even knew we were here."

Ryan wasn't sure about that. Sleeping in a house where parents were concerned about him felt different than sleeping in an empty house, or a house where no one even noticed he was sick. Better.

"Can I be the one to wake him?" he heard Seth ask. "Do I get to ask him who the president is?

"I'm awake," Ryan said, ruining Seth's fun. "And it's Bush."

"How are you feeling?" Kirsten asked, coming into the room, trailed by Seth. "Can I get you anything?"

Ryan grabbed his bottle of juice off the coffee table. "Groggy. What time is it?"

Kirsten checked her watch. "You've been asleep for about an hour and a half."

"Can I see where they superglued your head together?" Seth was standing behind the couch and started rifling through Ryan's hair.

Ryan batted his hand away. "Leave it alone."

Seth came back around and sat in the chair, staring at Ryan in fascination. "So you have no idea how you did this to yourself? That sounds like something I'd do."

Ryan started toying with the hospital bracelet on his wrist. "It's a complete blank, man. I have no idea."

"Maybe aliens kidnapped you and after they were done with your anal probe, they didn't return you very gently to Earth," Seth suggested. "Or maybe…"

Ryan started to zone out as Seth's imagination got wilder and wilder. He kept going over it in his mind, trying to remember how he went from getting dressed to lying in his own blood.

"Geez, Ryan, you're playing with that bracelet like it's your watch," Seth said.

"My watch?" Ryan asked.

"Want me to get the scissors and cut that bad boy off for you?"

"I forgot my watch," Ryan said, suddenly remembering.

"At the hospital?" Seth asked.

"No," Ryan pushed against the back of the couch, struggling to sit up. "In my bathroom."

"Mom," Seth said in an exaggerated whisper, "I think his brain is still scrambled."

But Ryan wasn't listening to Seth. He was getting flashes of images in his mind – pulling up the covers, his bare wrist, the bathroom door.

"I jumped the ledge." He'd been in a rush and it had been closer than walking all the way over to the stairs.

"This morning?" Kirsten asked.

Ryan nodded. "After I made the bed."

"What happened then?" Kirsten gently urged when he stopped talking.

"I don't…" he faltered, trying to think back. "I must have slipped."

Kirsten sat next to him on the couch. "You know, I've always worried about you walking in just your socks by the bathroom, because it can be slippery."

"Let me get this straight," Seth said, barely containing his laughter. "You've held your own against Luke, and Volchok, and Trey, and you got taken out by a pair of socks? Oh, that's gold. I can't wait to tell Summer."

Ryan buried his face in his hands. "I'm never going to live this down."

"It's not that bad," Kirsten said, rubbing circles on his back. "But I think you should lie back down. Seth, leave him alone – he needs his rest."

"That's all right – I need to go call Summer," Seth said as Ryan lay back down and Kirsten spread the blanket over him. "The great Ryan Atwood, taken out by a pair of socks."

Tiredness washed over him, and he quickly moved toward sleep. The thought crossed his mind, just before he drifted off, that he'd have been better off remembering what happened when Seth wasn't around.

Ryan woke up the next morning in the den, having not made it out to the pool house the night before. Though still a little woozy, he was feeling much better and his headache had started to diminish. He looked around and was grateful to find he was alone. Kirsten and Sandy had taken turns waking him up through the night, and this was the first time he'd been awake and alone since Kirsten had found him the day before.

He wandered out to the pool house in search of clean clothes, and he was in desperate need of a shower, if only to get the dried blood out of his hair. He was surprised to discover two men already in there, moving his wicker shelves behind the bar.

"Who are you?" he asked, his heart beating faster at finding strangers in his room. One of the men pulled out a card and handed it to him. Taylor Flooring. He looked at them questioningly.

"Didn't your mom tell you?" the man asked him. "We're here to install the non-skid floor."

Ryan grinned to himself. Only in Newport.

THE END