Kirsten persuaded Sandy and Seth to go and check into a hotel whilst she stayed the night.
Settling into the chair by the bead (or at least as it was possible to settle into the stiff foam contraption), Kirsten turned again to look at Ryan. The longer she stared at him, the more she saw through the tubes and bandages to the boy that lay underneath. It was a relief to see that he was still there, though he looked vulnerable in a way that she had never seen him before, not even when Dawn left. Because if nothing else, Ryan usually had his physical strength to support him, and that acted as just enough of a support to keep the emotional barriers in place.
But now Ryan had to be both physically and emotionally shattered, and Kirsten didn't know how he was going to manage to keep the barriers up when all his strength had left him. If he tried to keep the walls up, would they ever get through to him? Kirsten prayed that Ryan could trust them enough to let the barriers down, at least until he was well enough to put them back up again. But with this latest betrayal, would Ryan be able to find it in him to trust anyone, or would he finally decide that it was easier just to give up on the world and retreat into himself?
Kirsten was torn with worry over the thought that that could happen to Ryan, but thinking back over his behaviour she was worried that his response would indeed be exactly that. Kirsten could recall practically every word that Ryan had spoken during his first few weeks with the Cohens, simply because there had been so few. Every movement had been furtive, every glance had been momentary, and quickly dropped, and every emotion had been closely guarded.
So it wouldn't surprise Kirsten at all if now, with yet another blow within his short life, if Ryan didn't decide it was easier simply to shut himself off, and stop himself from feeling anything at all.
Kirsten dreaded to think of the outcome if that happened. Ryan needed them now more than ever.
Kirsten sighed as she felt tears sting her eyes. Ryan's whole, short, life had been a tragedy. She just wanted a chance to turn that around.
With that unsettling thought still in mind, Kirsten drifted into a sleep as cold and sterile as the ICU.
---
Sandy lay on the bed in the cheap motel room and stared at the ceiling, eyes unblinking. The room was not quite dark, owing to the broken drapes, half hanging off the plastic hooks, which allowed the light from the harsh yellow street lights to flood into the room, illuminating its shabby state.
On the second bed, Seth slept fitfully and lightly, tangling the blankets around his legs. But Sandy couldn't even give in to such respite. Despite the grainy feeling of exhaustion in his eyes, they seemed almost glued open, resolutely staring at the plaster swirl of the ceiling. He just couldn't shut off the flurry of thoughts that ran through his mind.
On the one hand, Sandy was still fraught with worry over the thought of Ryan, terrified that something would happen in the night and he would never see his foster son again. But battling for importance with this was the image of Ryan's biological brother, running from the devastation he had caused, leaving Ryan, his flesh and blood, to die alone in some cheap diner.
It was enough to bring tears of anger and sadness to his eyes, but, almost frustratingly, the dehydration caused by endless cups of coffee and lack of proper sustenance, coupled with the emotional and physical exertion of the day, meant that Sandy could not cry. He wished he could. It might have served as emotional catharsis, allowing him to clear his mind for the few remaining hours of the night so that he could sleep. But tears refused to come.
Instead, the feelings of anger, fuelled by his own guilt, grew, and Sandy found himself slipping into lawyer mode. Trey needed to be found so he could be punished for his crimes, intentional and unintentional. Tomorrow (or today as it now was), just as soon as it was socially acceptable to call, Sandy would make sure that the police realised that this had to be the forerunning case. He would do everything he needed to; he would even get the press involved if it would help. Trey needed to be caught so he could be brought to justice.
Subconsciously, Sandy realised that by entering his professional state of mind, Sandy was distancing himself from the reality of the situation, and the fact that this time it was his son who was the victim of the crime. He ignored the fact that it was Ryan, and Ryan's family who would be publicised if he went to the press. By focusing on his anger, he was able to quash a little of the worry, and push back the feelings of failure.
---
By the morning, when Seth and Sandy arrived back at the hospital, the Cohens did not look any better for wear. None of them had had very much, or very restful, sleep, and they were all still in the same clothes that they had donned the day before, which now felt like a lifetime ago. Kirsten had washed off her make up from the day before after realising in the bright lights of the washroom that part of the cause of the black bags under her eyes was mascara smudging. Now she looked tired, pale and drawn, and the lightly etched wrinkles, shadows and blotches that she usually covered meticulously
were there for all to see, worsened by the emotions of the past 24 hours.
But none of the Cohens were particularly bothered by appearances at this point. Sandy had woken up (if he had slept at all, he couldn't quite work it out) in fully-fledged lawyer mode, and had already arranged to meet again with the police officers handling Ryan's case.
Meanwhile, Seth had awoken in a jittery mood, and the verbal diarrhoea was back, more nonsensical and irritating than it had ever been.
The intermittent sleep that Kirsten had managed between the bouts of activity in the ICU left Kirsten feeling hazy, almost floaty, blurring the lines between reality and dreams.
So the Cohen family reunion wasn't the most lively of events. Especially given the obvious absence of one member - the reason for their current states. No one had really been thinking past the next few minutes of the day, which meant that they were all unsure of what was going to happen next, and no one had been informed of the reason that the Cohens had suddenly upped and left. Kirsten had turned off her cell after the 19th missed call, either from Julie or her father.
"Morning, sweetie," Sandy said, leaning forwards to peck his wife on the cheek.
"Mom, looking very chipper this morning. Nice scent too, what is that, eau de disinfectant?" Seth questioned. Kirsten looked at her son with a mixture of resigned annoyance and surprise. The last time she had seen her son, he had been the least verbal he had been since he had learnt to talk. This morning, he seemed back to his usual self. Kirsten wasn't sure whether to be glad that the son she knew and loved was back, or annoyed at the inappropriate Cohen sense of humour that he appeared to have inherited from his father.
"So honey, what do you say we go visit Ryan and then go get some breakfast?" Sandy suggested. Kirsten was pleased, though a little surprised by the adjustment that seemed to have taken place in her family overnight. Yesterday, they had seemed a broken shell, just going through the motions. This morning, well, she wasn't quite sure what this was yet. It was almost surreal to be going through normal routines when things were so obviously not normal. But Kirsten felt too out of it to second guess, and for the moment she was happy for someone to direct her, because she sure as hell didn't know how she was meant to be acting. She would study the family dynamics later, when she was fully in control of her own thoughts and emotions.
Smiling at Sandy, she answered, "Sure honey. Seth, you want to go see Ryan?" Kirsten wanted a few minutes alone with her husband, and thought Seth would be grateful to settle his anxiety by visiting Ryan. Ryan didn't look much better than yesterday. In fact, the circles around his eyes had become darker, and his face seemed more gaunt than it had the day before. But nevertheless, the machines continued to beep, evidence that Ryan was holding his own. Over the course of the night, when Kirsten had awoken from her light sleep, she had found herself lulled into sleep by the reassuring rhythm of the beeps.
But to her surprise, at her question, Seth's face, which had been open and animated, closed, and his lips drew into a tight line. "Erm, I'm actually really hungry mom. I don't think I can wait. I'll head down to the cafeteria and get us a table. Early bird catches the worm and all that." And with that, he was off down the corridor at a brisk stride.
Kirsten frowned. She knew that Seth had a habit of running away from problems, and she hoped that wasn't what he was trying to so. Ryan wouldn't get better if Seth ignored the situation; in fact, it was likely to cause quite the opposite.
"Sandy…?" She said, doubtfully, looking up to gaze at her husband.
"You go join Seth, I'll come down in a minute," Sandy responded, heading into the ICU.
---
For the second time in 24 hours, Sandy stared upon the broken face of his foster son, lifeless and lax, vulnerable. Placing a strong hand on Ryan's forehead, covered by his now limp, sandy hair, Sandy sighed.
"Don't worry kid now. I'm here now. Me, Kirsten and Seth. Your real family. I'm never going to let anything hurt you again. But you gotta cooperate with us kid. We have to know what's going on in that head of yours," Sandy half pleaded with the unconscious Ryan. Stroking the hair from Ryan's eyes, Sandy continued, "I'm going to find him Ryan. I'm going to make sure that he won't be the one to hurt you again." Staring upon Ryan, Sandy felt the determination grow within him. He needed to do something. It was not enough to simply sit here and wait for others to do it for him. Sandy wanted nothing more to get in his car and drive around until he hunted Trey down. He realised that this probably wasn't the most logical or efficient course of action, but at least he wouldn't feel so utterly helpless.
Sandy jumped as the door to the ICU opened and a swarm of doctors entered. Sandy vaguely recognised Dr Reeves from the haze that was the night before, and flashed her a shadow of a smile.
"Good morning, Mr Cohen", the doctor said, her tones a well practised mix of professionalism and compassion. Dr Reeves unhooked the chart from the end of Ryan's bed as the other doctors hovered behind her. Sandy assumed they were interns. "Ryan's doing well," she continued, "I'll remove him from the ventilator and start weaning him off the sedatives this afternoon and hopefully he'll wake up this evening," she said, smiling at Sandy. This time, Sandy answered with a toothy grin, his face settling into familiar smile lines. Sandy went to clap Ryan on the shoulder before realising that this was probably a bad idea, and instead settled for another gentle sweep of his hand across Ryan's forehead. "That's great Dr Reeves. I'll go tell my wife. Thanks very much." Sandy arose with something approaching enthusiasm, and headed off towards the cafeteria.
A/N: I've been holding this chapter back for a while because I like to have a next chapter written before I post a new one, and I haven't yet, but I wanted to keep this story active, so here it is. I'm a bit busy at the moment, so don't quite know when the next chapter will be. Reviews will help to get it up quicker! Thanks to everyone that has reviewed.