A/N: have tried my best(ish…) with the medical knowledge/ police proceedings, but haven't had a great deal of life experience in these matters…

Chapter 6

Over the whole car journey, barely two words were spoken. Sandy and Kirsten had exchanged a worried glance of understanding as Kirsten had scrambled into the car, but other than that, the silence was unnerving. The atmosphere was more fraught with tension than words could have made it. Even Seth, normally unstoppable, remained mute in the back seat, staring out of the window.

As the GPS guided the car into the parking lot of the hospital, Sandy felt the nerves build. Since he had received the call from a fraught Kirsten, over an hour ago, Sandy had convinced himself that this was nothing to worry about. He had seen Ryan just this morning. Everything had been fine. Ryan was a good kid. He wouldn't get himself into trouble now. He would tell the Cohens if he had a problem. These were the thoughts that Sandy kept rolling around his mind.

But he couldn't quite quash the other thoughts. The ones that said something was wrong. That it must be a big problem if Ryan hadn't felt he could tell them. That something must be seriously wrong if Ryan had actually consented to being taken to hospital. Ryan hadn't even called himself. Kirsten said the receptionist had been having trouble working out who to get hold of. Why hadn't they just asked Ryan? These were the thoughts that pushed themselves to the fore of his mind as Sandy swung the car into an empty space and switched off the engine.

Seth hopped out of the car as soon as it drew to a halt, not waiting for his parents as he headed off to the entrance of the ER. He was struck with worry and guilt. Maybe if he'd called Ryan earlier, taken the time to work out where Ryan was going, then whatever had happened could have been avoided. Seth thought back to Ryan's behaviour that morning. He had seemed ok. Even more monosyllabic than usual, but nothing more. Seth should have pushed him for answers.

Now he just needed to know that his foster brother, his only brother, was Ok.

Kirsten slipped her hand into Sandy's strong, comforting one. He gave it a small squeeze as the two hurriedly followed Seth into the building.

"We received a phone call, our son Ryan Atwood is here?" Kirsten asked, half begging as she reached the reception desk of the ER. The woman at the phone, who Kirsten assumed was the same person she had spoken to earlier, was young, but had a sort of aura of efficiency and calm about her.

"Yes. If you would just go to the waiting room over there," she said, pointing, "someone will be with you shortly to inform you about Ryan's condition."

"Can't you tell us what's going on?" Sandy implored from behind Kirsten. She seemed to have taken the lead at some point.

"All I can tell you is that Ryan was brought in for emergency treatment this afternoon as a result of an incident nearby. As I said, someone will be with you to tell you more shortly." The woman said with a bland smile.

Sandy sighed with resignation as he gripped the still eerily quiet Seth around the shoulders and steered him towards the waiting room. Damn hospitals with their damn bureaucracy. All he wanted was to see Ryan and to know that he was OK.

The Cohens entered the waiting room and seated themselves upon the hard plastic chairs. Kirsten huffed repeatedly and stared pointedly at her watch, as if trying to hurry a so far absent doctor into coming to see them. Seth sat unnaturally still, staring at his hands, and Sandy sat restlessly fiddling.

Finally, after what seemed like an age but was in fact only about half an hour, a doctor entered the waiting room.

"Mr and Mrs Cohen?" he asked the room, glancing around at the various occupants, who had all looked up with a mixture of trepidation and hope when the doctor entered.

Sandy, Kirsten and Seth all stood up and the doctor approached.

"I'm Dr. Brenton. I've been helping to take care of your foster son." The doctor said, speaking to Kirsten and Sandy. "There's a conference room just across the hall. If you would care to follow me?" Kirsten, Sandy and Seth all made to follow the doctor. "I'm afraid the young man will have to wait here if he's under 18…" the doctor said apologetically. Sandy looked towards his son reluctantly. Seth locked eye contact with him, as if engaged with a silent battle of wills with his father, but eventually seemed to resign himself to the fact that he wasn't about to be allowed in the room.

Sandy and Kirsten followed the doctor into the small conference room and seated themselves in plastic chairs in front of the desk.

"Well I'm sure you're both very anxious to know how Ryan is doing. How much do you know of what has happened?" the doctor asked. He had a kind voice and a reassuring fatherly appearance, though he looked somewhat frayed around the edges.

"We don't know anything," Kirsten responded. "Please, tell us what's going on. When Ryan left the house earlier he was fine… why is he here?" she begged.

The doctor sighed, absent-mindedly fiddling with a pen that he had removed from his lab coat. "I can tell you what we know. You'll still have to talk to the police, and I daresay Ryan, to understand everything that happened." Sandy gripped his wife's hand. How did Ryan always seem to get caught up with the police?

"Ryan was brought in after an incident at a local diner with a gunshot wound to the left shoulder and a penetrating chest injury." Kirsten paled and Sandy gripped her hand harder. "His condition is critical. He was unconscious on arrival and is currently in surgery to have the damage repaired and the shard of glass that was embedded in his chest removed. Ryan had a collapsed lung, which we've reinflated, and he also had blood in his chest, which we're currently draining, but I'm afraid only his surgeon will be able to tell you the entire picture when he comes out of surgery." Dr Brenton paused, hoping that the parents, both of whom seemed too shocked to say anything, were taking this in. Taking a deep breath, he continued. "As for the gunshot wound to Ryan's shoulder, the bullet went straight through, which is good, but he did sustain some fairly serious muscle and tissue damage, as well as at least one bone fracture. If Ryan makes it through this, there's going to be a long recovery period."

Kirsten and Sandy sat shocked into silence.

When Kirsten's brain finally managed to sort through the information overload and pick out the most important bits of information, she finally muttered, "if..?"

Dr. Brenton's face wrinkled into a frown of confusion.

"If he recovers? There's a chance he might…not?" She forced herself to ask. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer to this question. But then she hadn't wanted to hear any of what she'd just heard. She was still hoping that she would wake up any minute now. None of this seemed real. The barrage of emotion within her was held back behind a crumbling wall. Kirsten had to humour the half hearted hope that it wasn't real, or the wall would collapse and she would be overcome with despair.

"His injuries were very serious. If he makes it through surgery, he has a good chance. But I'm afraid there are no guarantees. There is a lot of potential for complications." The doctor answered gravely. "All we can do is hope. Ryan has been in surgery for the past two or three hours. No news is good news…Do you have any further questions for the moment?" He finished, returning his pen to his pocket with an air of finality. Kirsten glanced over at Sandy for an answer, and was shocked to find his face crumpling, unable to hold back the emotion.

Yes she had questions, she had a million questions. Who had done this? How had this happened? How could her son have gone from being a healthy boy this morning, to barely clinging to life right now? Kirsten couldn't really wrap her mind around it. The only image she had in her brain was that of Ryan as he was this morning, entering her room with a mug of coffee. Until she saw otherwise, she wasn't sure she would be able to convince herself that that Ryan had been hurt.

"I… I don't think so…" Kirsten eventually replied. Now wasn't the time for all of these questions. They would be answered when they were ready to be answered.

The doctor smiled sadly at her and stood up to leave. "You can stay in here a few moments to collect yourselves if you'd like to." Then he turned and walked out of the room.

Sandy was unable to hold back and a sob ripped through him. Kirsten wrapped her arms around him in a hug, still stemming the flow of emotion behind an increasingly fragile wall. "Shh…shh," she desperately consoled. This was all wrong. If Sandy couldn't hold it together, then how could she? "We need to be strong for him Sandy," She urged.

Sandy felt the emotional onslaught begin to subside as his wife's words reached him. Kirsten was right. He needed to be strong, not just for Ryan, but for all his family.

But that was just it. He hadn't been there for Ryan. When Ryan had come to their home, Sandy had sworn to himself that he would protect him as he had protected Seth. In some ways, even more so. Ryan had had a shitty life. And Sandy knew that, as with so many of the kids that he had worked with as a P.D., the file didn't begin to scratch the surface of the story. And Sandy had sworn to himself that he would do everything in his power to stop Ryan from suffering as he had done.

But he had failed. Suddenly, Sandy was filled with a consuming desire to know what had happened. Adrenaline overpowered the exhaustion that the emotion had left in its wake. Who had hurt his son? Steeling himself, he squeezed Kirsten in their embrace, wiping his eyes behind her back before breaking the embrace and standing. He was in control of himself again.

Kirsten looked up towards her husband as he stood and was relieved to see her familiar, strong, dependable Sandy, who solved problems rather than caused them.

"We should go speak to Seth." He stated, reaching for Kirsten's hand as he turned towards the door.

Seth sat in the waiting room staring towards the door, waiting for his parents return. Usually, Seth responded to difficult situations by babbling. Ryan was the silent brooding type, he was the talk-at-ten-miles-an-hour type.

But this time, possibly for the first time in his life since he had learned to talk at the premature age of one and a half, words had simply escaped him. Because there was just no way that words could solve this. Not that Seth's random strings of babbling usually solved anything. Generally they just made things worse. But they acted as a sort of shield. He could hide behind words, or he could use them as a weapon. At least they made him feel like he was actually doing something. This time there was just nothing he could do.

The door swung open and Sandy and Kirsten entered the room. Seth noted their dejected appearance and the red rims of Sandy's eyes as he shot to his feet.

"Ryan…" He asked, terrified of what he would hear.

"Sit down, son," Sandy said, wrapping an arm around Seth's shoulders. "Ryan was involved in an accident." He said, as Seth slumped back down into the seat.

"He's not- He's not dead?" Seth breathed, misinterpreting his father's words.

"No, no," Sandy rushed to reassure his son, horrified at the thought. "But he's been hurt. Badly. He was shot. We don't know much else yet, they're sending the police to talk to us." Sandy finished, sighing with remorse.

Seth was as shocked as his parents had been.

"But dad, he can't have been shot. We would have known…" Seth knew the comment was illogical, but he somehow couldn't believe that this had all happened in the space of an afternoon.

"I know Seth… We'll just have to wait…" Sandy knew how his son felt. Surely this couldn't be happening…

Over the next few hours, the clock seemed to tick by agonisingly slowly. Seth had fallen asleep, overwhelmed by the emotions of the day, Kirsten sat staring at a Newport magazine open on her lap, not having turned the page in over an hour. Sandy didn't even put on an act. He simply stared into space, with Seth's head resting on his shoulder and one of his hands wrapped around Kirsten's.

When the police officer entered the room with the receptionist from earlier, Sandy didn't even notice until she tapped him on the shoulder. Sandy made to jump up before remembering his sleeping son. Gently extricating himself from his position and leaning Seth back against the seat, Sandy stood. Kirsten looked up too, suddenly nervous. "You go Sandy… You can tell me afterwards. I want to stay with Seth."

Sandy looked at his wife appraisingly, worried that this was simply an avoidance tactic that wouldn't do her any good in the long run. But after a few moments, he decided that this was what his wife needed. She had shouldered too much of the burden today. It was his turn to take the heat.

Sandy sat with two police officers, introduced as Detective Yalescroft and Seargeant Freeman, in the conference room. Sandy was beginning to associate this room with dread. It was the second time in a day that he had been called in here to hear something he was pretty sure he wasn't going to like.

"We can only tell you as much as we know," the first officer, a middle aged detective told Sandy. "We're hoping that you might be able to fill in a few blanks." Sandy dropped his head. Ryan hadn't told them anything about where he was going today. He had lied. As much as there were other matters to focus on at them moment, Sandy couldn't quite get that out of his head. After all this time, didn't Ryan feel he could trust them? Sandy stopped the thoughts before they could go any further. He didn't know anything yet. There was no point in jumping to conclusions.

"Please, just tell me what happened. I'll help you in any way I can," he told the detective.

"We only know what the witnesses have told us at this point in time," The detective began. "Sergeant Freeman was present at the incident and has taken witness reports. Sergeant?" The detective handed over to the second officer.

"At approximately one o' clock this afternoon, Ryan entered Macy's Diner

on Fourth Street in Chino. After waiting for approximately an hour, he was joined by a Caucasian male, estimated at somewhere between 18 and 25 years. The two conversed for approximately ten minutes before the male pulled a gun from his back pocket and instructed the cashier to hand over all the money, whilst holding all of the occupants in the restaurant hostage by gun point. The cashier emptied the register and informed the male that that was all there was, at which point he began to approach the cashier in a threatening way. Another male present in the restaurant attacked the offender from behind, at which point there was a struggle. Two shots were accidentally fired by the offender and one of these hit Ryan in the shoulder, who crashed backwards through the window, resulting in a penetrating chest wound from a shard of glass. The offender took the money and ran from the restaurant and we have as yet been unable to locate him." The officer paused, giving the man before him a chance to take this in. "From the witness reports, we believe Ryan to have been both unaware and completely uncooperative in this attack."

Sandy allowed himself to breathe a small sigh of relief. He would never, never have suspected Ryan in been actively involved in such a crime, but other people didn't know Ryan like he did. All they knew was the file.

"Ryan referred to the offender as "Trey". We suspect that he may be Ryan's biological brother, Trey Atwood." Sandy sat frozen. He didn't know a lot about Ryan's brother, only what he had learnt from the case when he had first met Ryan and the occasional references that Ryan made to him. That and the fact that after Thanksgiving, Ryan had seemed none to keen on his brother. Sandy had no idea that Trey was even out of prison.

"I know that this is a lot to take in Mr Cohen, but we really need any information that you can give us. Especially with Ryan Atwood's… current condition." The detective said. He had spoken to the doctors. He knew there was every possibility that they would never get a chance to speak to Ryan Atwood.

"What do you know about Ryan's relationship with his brother, Mr Cohen? From the records we know about the car theft that resulted in Trey Atwood's stay in prison and Ryan's placement with you," the detective informed him. Sergeant Freeman sat taking notes.

Sandy tried to get his brain to work. It was difficult to think after the events of the day. Sandy had to block out the thoughts at the foremost of his mind, still reeling over what he had just heard, and indeed, at the entire situation.

"I'm afraid I really don't know all that much," Sandy answered honestly. "Ryan doesn't talk about his brother a whole lot. I think that their relationship has had… ups and downs. Their home environment was difficult. Trey left when Ryan was 12, but I think they saw a lot of each other. You'd have to speak to Dawn Atwood or his contacts in Chino to establish more on that. Recently though… Ryan barely mentions Trey. He went to see him last Thanksgiving in prison. I got the impression it didn't go well. Since then, I haven't been aware of any contact between the two." Sandy said.

Now that he thought about it, it seemed amazing that Sandy knew so little about Ryan's brother, indeed most of his life in Chino. He considered Ryan to be his son. He never pushed Ryan about his past; he suspected that Ryan needed some time to come to terms with it before he could talk to him about it. But Sandy had never felt more clueless about his foster son, and more hopeless to help him, than he did right now.

"Where did Ryan tell you he was going this morning?" Detective Yalescroft asked Sandy.

"My wife was the one who saw him before he left… I think he told her he was going to study with a friend… he didn't say which," Sandy answered hesitantly. Suddenly, a new thought hit Sandy. What if child services became involved in this? What if they tried to take Ryan away? Sandy forced the thought to the back of his mind along with all the other unpleasant ones that the day had raised, ready to be examined if and when it became an issue. Sandy could only cope with one thought at a time.

"Ok, Mr Cohen. That's pretty much it for now. Could I just ask if you have a contact number for Dawn Atwood?" asked detective Yalescroft. Sandy shook his head apologetically. He'd tried the last contact number for Dawn before. He hadn't expected success, and he hadn't had any. The line had been cut.

"Thank you Mr Cohen. We may need to talk to you again if we can't locate Trey Atwood, and we'll need to talk to Ryan if-" the detective mentally cursed himself, "when Ryan gets better." Sandy simply nodded, passing a hand over his eyes, and stood to exit through the door that Sergeant Freeman now held open for him. Exiting, he found Kirsten hovering outside the door.

"Sandy! He's out of surgery! They say it went as well as they could have hoped. He's in recovery for the next hour or so, and then they'll take him to the ICU and we can see him!" Kirsten said excitedly. Sandy allowed himself what felt like the first smile in days at the comparatively good news, and leaned forward to wrap Kirsten in a warm hug, kissing her head as he did so.

"We can go and wait for him in the ICU waiting lounge," Kirsten added. Sandy nodded goodbye to the detectives, then went to awaken Seth before heading up to the ICU.