Sandy's barely holding on. Meanwhile, Kirsten writes a letter to Ryan from rehab, before she learns of the shooting and surrounding drama. There are things she needs to explain. But a shattered Ryan knows everything has changed …
Disclaimer: I own nothing. No characters, no concept, nothing. Just borrowing, for a few pages, okay?
A/N: I'm not sure if I'm violating canon here – I can't remember if we have ever learned the story behind Ryan's fear of heights. If this is contra, my bad…
Time: Morning of Day Four
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Sandy watched, surprised, as Ryan opened the kitchen door. Then glanced at Seth, in time to see his son's face break into a wide smile.
"Ryan! Good to see you, man," Seth gushed as he gestured to the empty stool beside him.
Sandy eyed Ryan, who had frozen, lost somewhere between entry and retreat. He offered some benign encouragement to the uncertain teen, "Coffee's hot, and the cream cheese is room temperature – perfect for shmearing on a nice fresh bagel …"
Sandy waved the large bag he'd just brought in from Bagel Me, and was pleased to be rewarded with a quirky little half-smile from his foster-son.
"Sounds good," the teen allowed, blue eyes flicking quickly between the two Cohens before he ventured on inside and crossed to the coffee maker.
Sandy tried to catch Seth's attention, to silently remind him of the conversation they'd had last night. When Seth had promised to be mindful of Ryan's feelings. But Seth's focus was glued to Ryan, as the blond teenager poured a mug of coffee and turned to face his friend.
"Missed much at school?" Ryan asked carefully. Sandy hoped Seth caught his cautious tone, and would follow the neutral path just offered.
Seth made a face. "Not really. Although we had this student teacher in PE who actually thought climbing a rope to the top of the gymnasium was somethin' I'd wanna do."
Sandy was both relieved and worried – safe topic for Ryan, but maybe tough for Seth. He hoped his son had not been humiliated yet again in phys ed...
Ryan grinned wryly, "Yeah, one of my old PE teachers thought the same thing back in Chino."
Sandy snorted softly, while Seth's eyes widened.
"So what'd you do? I mean, how did you get out of it? Because, the top of the gym is in a different stratosphere, man. I'm talking serious climate differences…"
The blond head tilted, as eyelids lowered to a half-closed position. The boy answered lazily, "I didn't say I got out of it."
Sandy leaned back against the counter, watching as Ryan climbed up on the bar stool beside a puzzled Seth.
"But dude, you're afraid of heights…"
"Yeah. Ever wonder why?" The voice was tinged with just a trace of humor.
Sandy saw the blond eyebrows arch ever so slightly, as Ryan waited for Seth to draw his own conclusions.
After a moment of studied concentration, Seth leaned back in his seat, and turned to face Ryan. "Oh. My. God." His face broke into a dimpled smile, as he continued, "Ryan Atwood, athlete extraordinaire, fell off the rope!"
Having drawn the same conclusion, Sandy searched his foster-son's face for confirmation. Ryan merely shrugged, and looked a little sheepish.
"Embarrassed, much?" Seth mocked cheerfully, his own failure apparently forgotten. "Who woulda' ever thought? No, wait. Let's set the scene… Aging gym, frayed rope, dim lights… I can see it, Ryan, I really can."
Ryan idly scratched his cheek, as he rolled his eyes at Seth.
Seth pressed, "Was there screaming involved? Or cursing? My money's on cursing, being Chino and everything…"
Ryan turned his head a fraction, fixing Seth with a scowl.
Sandy watched warily, as his son continued, "So, how exactly did you fall off? I mean, style-wise… Was it like a half-gainer, or a back flip, or just a plain ol' flop on your ass kinda' plummet?"
"Seth!" Sandy finally reprimanded, thinking his son was enjoying this far too much. "A little respect for Ryan, please!"
The lanky teenager looked at his father, as Sandy glared his disapproval. Seth's face slowly registered the admonishment, and the boy turned to Ryan apologetically. "Sorry, man. It's just… well, I mean, when you're like me – which you aren't… at all – athletic-wise, I mean, somethin' like this makes me feel a little less pathetic, you know?" He searched Ryan's now impassive face, and then scrunched his own, as he finished, "I'm… I'm an idiot. A very sorry idiot."
"It's okay, man, Ryan responded evenly, looking at Seth as though appraising him.
Seth sighed in relief, before wheedling, "Then, like, can you give me just a couple of details?"
"Seth!" Sandy took a step towards his son, but Ryan held up a hand, as though asking him to stay out of it. Sandy leaned back against the counter, watching.
Ryan took a long sip from his coffee, and set it on the counter. He shrugged again and pursed his lips, "Honestly, Seth, I don't remember many details. The thing I do remember is that I never had to climb the rope again." The teenager's face slowly relaxed into a mischievous grin, as he rounded his body deliberately toward Seth, blue eyes glinting, "But now I'm curious. How about you? How'd you get out of it?"
"Who says I did?" Seth tried to achieve Ryan's earlier nonchalance, but failed.
Sandy chuckled, as the look Ryan sent his son was unmistakable.
Seth dropped his head, confessing, "Okay. I told the guy I knew a really good lawyer, who was looking for somebody to sue …"
Ryan nodded, grinning slightly. "That's what I figured…"
The curly head came back up, as he launched into animated explication. "He kinda' decided it would be better if I was the official rope holder. But dude, that's so not a good job. All those gross feet floundering around, right in your face, man, trying to get a grip. There ought to be a law requiring foot deodorant, you know? And holding a rope while other people are climbing on it is not as easy as it looks, either. I think I might have gotten some serious rope burn…" He held out his hands for Ryan's tolerant inspection.
A horn outside signaled Summer's arrival, but Seth seemed reluctant to vacate the kitchen. A loud blare sent a stronger message to get moving.
"Guess I'd better go, dude. I'm … It's just really good to see you. I mean, in here. In the morning… We need to log some serious Seth/Ryan time."
Ryan nodded, as he took another sip of coffee. "I'll be here."
Sandy waited until Seth had departed before asking carefully, "You really fell? Or you just wanted to make Seth feel better?"
Smiling wanly, Ryan replied. "Kinda' both, I guess. I did fall about 18 feet – luckily, there was some pretty thick padding on the floor. But I've never been good with heights since.
Sandy frowned. Something still didn't click for him. "I'm thinking there's something more to the story…"
The teenager ducked his head for just an instant, before looking up at Sandy and admitting, "Yeah, well, I mighta' left out the part about having two sprained wrists at the time."
Sandy's mind raced in multiple directions. First, how typical of his foster-son to be more concerned for Seth's feelings than his own. Next, why would this kid have even tried climbing injured? Answered that question instantly – because he's Ryan. Finally, two sprained wrists? What the..?
As though reading his mind, Ryan elaborated swiftly, "Bike accident." Then abruptly changed the topic, "I thought you were all about offering bagels… got any sesame?"
"As a matter of fact, I do," Sandy answered gamely, although he was not quite willing to drop the previous subject. As he stuck his hand into the bag in search of some sesame goodness, he looked across at Ryan. "That was very considerate, Ryan. I'm sure Seth appreciated that you shared that piece of information with him."
Ryan frowned and leaned back in his chair, but said nothing.
"You know, Ryan, Seth's my son, and I love him, but I know he can be annoying as hell sometimes…"
Ryan's frown morphed into a twisted smile as he laughed, "Seth annoying? Ya' don't say..."
Sandy jammed the blade into the bagel slicer with exaggerated force. "You mock, my friend, but the fact is you need to let him know when he's stepping over lines, because that's the only way he's ever going to learn. Your feelings are every bit as important as his are, kid, and he needs to understand that. You need to understand that."
Ryan ducked his head, but not before Sandy caught the almost startled look the teen shot his way.
"Capiche?" Sandy waited for an answer for a moment, but got nothing. "Ryan?" he prompted.
"Sorry," Ryan mumbled. "I hear what you're saying, okay?"
Sandy wasn't convinced that hearing and understanding were the same thing with Ryan, but for the moment maybe 'hearing' was progress. "Shall I shmear?" he asked, generously applying cream cheese when the boy nodded.
Keeping his eyes on the bagel, Sandy continued, "So you know what you've done, right? Because you've given Seth ammunition he'll use for the next fifty years! Every Chrismukkuh, every Thanksgiving, every birthday, whenever you guys bring over our grandchildren – anytime the family's together, he'll drag that story out…"
Sandy surreptitiously observed Ryan, who was gripping his coffee mug with both hands, and staring down into it. The teenager's eyes blinked several times as he appeared to be processing Sandy's words. At last the boy looked up. "I could live with that," he said, as the corners of his mouth twisted into something halfway between a grin and a grimace.
Sandy smiled broadly, "I'm just saying… you've been warned."
Ryan ducked his head again, and looked back up through his bangs. "You see Kirsten this afternoon?"
Sandy's smile softened, as he nodded. "I'm telling you, it's gonna' be okay, kid. You'll see…"
Ryan flicked his eyebrows up, as he bit his lip. Sandy wasn't sure how to translate the message the boy was sending. Didn't know whether Ryan even knew.
He opted for a lighter track. "I can tell you one thing she'd say right now. Something you would believe…"
"What?"
"Eat your bagel."
This time Ryan groaned, and rolled his eyes at Sandy. But he also bit into the bagel.
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Sitting inside his office an hour later, Sandy heard the door closing in the kitchen. Ryan must have finished cleaning up – something the kid had insisted on doing, despite Sandy's protests.
His attention returned to the receiver he held in his hand, as the 'on hold' musak stopped playing, and the sound of electronic switching promised a human voice would soon follow. He was not disappointed.
"Manny! What's news, my friend?"
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Sandy hung up the telephone, his mind working fast. The news had caught him by surprise, although as he thought about it, he should have seen it coming.
He rocked back and forth in his leather chair as he considered his next move, concentrating so intently that the sound of the phone ringing startled him.
He grabbed it quickly, thinking Manny might be calling back.
Hearing the voice on the other end, he dropped his head into one hand. Just what they needed. Child Services…
Sandy grimaced as he heard Mike Shuster's heated words. As he asked questions which Sandy had no good answers for.
"What in the world were you thinking, taking Trey Atwood into your home? Dammit, Sandy. That was the brother who led Ryan into trouble two summers ago!"
"Where were you, while all this was going on?"
"Why didn't you tell us about Kirsten's problem?"
"Who was watching out for Ryan?"
Sandy felt like he'd just had his ass kicked the old fashioned way, as he hung up the telephone. Mike had made it very clear that if Ryan were not turning eighteen so soon, Child Services would look very seriously at removing the boy from their custody. Even now, they wanted reassurance that Ryan himself wouldn't prefer another situation. Two months was, after all, two months…
Fine. Another thing to discuss with Ryan, after he talked to Kirsten. Because it had become quite clear that Ryan needed her reassurance – needed to be certain, after everything that happened, she still wanted him with them. Which of course she did.
He was taken by surprise by his own backlash of thought, as he waged a brief internal battle. Didn't she? Yes, dammit, of course she does. You think. I know. I know her…
He closed his eyes, thinking if he harbored even the tiniest of doubts, despite how well he knew his wife's heart… how much less confident must Ryan feel?
He blew out a sharp breath, and rose from his chair. He'd see Kirsten later today, he told himself firmly, at which time all doubts would be dispelled.
But right now, he needed to act quickly, or there could be worse trouble in store for the Cohen/Atwood clan than a livid Michael Shuster.
Sandy grabbed his keys, quickly checking in with Ryan to say he had to run some errands. To assure the teen he was only a phone call away, if Ryan needed anything.
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It seemed odd to see Caleb's home, and know the man would never glower at him from the entryway again. Their relationship had been fraught with aversion and mistrust from day one, but Sandy found himself missing the guy in the same way that superheroes would miss their villains if they were ever fully vanquished. Sometimes you can define yourself more clearly by determining who you are not. And Sandy had spent twenty years assuring himself he was nothing like Caleb Nichol.
Today, he wasn't so sure…
Julie was waiting on the steps, her eyebrows drawn together impatiently. "We just got home this morning, Sandy. Jimmy's gone over to pack up his things from his boat, and won't be here until later. Couldn't whatever you want to talk about have waited?"
Sandy stopped a few steps below her, and shook his head. "No, Julie. I don't think it can."
She sighed in exasperation, and spun around toward the entryway. "Then let's get this over with," she snapped.
Sandy followed her inside the house, where she stopped in the entryway and turned to face him once again. Sandy scrutinized her every movement, still defining his strategy. She arched her neck, and glared at him through enormous eyes. He couldn't shake the comparison to a serpent – a cobra, hypnotizing its victim, poised to strike.
Her voice was cold when she spoke, "I told you last night, Marissa's not talking to you. And just so we're crystal clear, Sanford, I want you to keep Ryan away from my daughter, too!"
Sandy's face grew dark, but he said nothing. Not yet. Not unless she forced him.
Julie didn't seem to notice his reaction, as she continued, "Seriously, isn't it time to turn that boy out of your pool house? This whole mess just proves he's uncontrollable."
She paused, looking at Sandy with faux-sympathy before venturing further. "You shouldn't feel bad – I was taken in, too. But in the end, he's always going to be a problem. Cut your losses, Sandy. He's …"
His voice deadly calm, Sandy interrupted her. "Julie, you'd do well to remember that Ryan is my son."
Julie shook her long mane off her face haughtily, as she corrected, "Your foster-son, Sandy. There's a difference."
"Not to me," Sandy said firmly, as Julie tilted her head, and arched her brows unbelievingly.
"Well, there should be!" she admonished sternly.
"You can't blame Ryan for this whole mess, Julie. God knows there's enough blame for everybody." Sandy kept his eyes on Julie's face, which didn't move a muscle. Determined to try one last time to reach an understanding, he forced himself to speak calmly, "We can work together, Julie. Make sure our kids get through this thing without further legal consequences."
When Julie blinked, Sandy continued, "I'd never ask Marisa to do anything she wasn't willing to do, Julie – you know that. But I do need to talk with her."
A glower spread across the woman's features, as she said scathingly, "Well, you can forget it! Marissa's done with helping Ryan. Let the system do its job, Sandy… I'm sure he'll get exactly what he deserves."
Sandy took a step towards her, the guilt he had felt driving over by now dissipated, replaced by ice-cold anger. He said slowly, "I'm glad you've got such faith in the system, Julie. Because from what I hear, you're soon going to get a first hand view of it."
The red-head twisted her neck, and narrowed her eyes to slits, reminding Sandy once more of a snake -- sinuous, and lethal. He was pleased that her voice seemed a shade less certain as she responded. "What do you mean?"
"Remember a few days ago, standing in my kitchen with your prenup?" He kept his voice even, giving nothing away.
She frowned, and looked more uneasy. "Of course I do. But what does that have to do with anything?"
Sandy smiled lazily, and arched his eyebrows. He picked up a small crystal paperweight resting near him, and turned it over in his hands, as he explained, "The toxicology reports came back from Caleb's autopsy. It seems there was an unusually high concentration of sedatives in his system."
He watched as Julie blanched, before adding, "The same drug, I understand, which was found concentrated in a pitcher of margaritas, as well as down the drain in your summer kitchen the night Caleb died. Traces of which were also on the margarita glass that was shattered by the pool… I understand the shards had two sets of fingerprints. Wanna' guess whose?"
Julie's eyes widened, as her breathing quickened. She sought reassurance, her voice suddenly laced with honey. "Sandy, you can't think I'd… the police wouldn't think I'd ever hurt Cal? I swear to you, Sandy, if he had any sedatives in his body, I didn't have anything to do with it!"
Sandy caught her eyes with his, holding them as he said quietly, "What the police think is what's important, Julie. And the police seem to be thinking you might have had a few million reasons to want my father-in-law dead."
Julie backed up, until she bumped into the wall. She leaned heavily against it for support, as she implored, "You've got to tell them I'm not a murderer!"
Setting down the paperweight, Sandy donned a sympathetic mask. "I'd like to help you, Julie. I really would," he said gently. He drew in a deep breath, before splaying his fingers in a small shrug, and grimacing, "But I don't know if I can…"
She stood paralyzed for a moment, seeming to consider Sandy's words, before stabbing at her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to pull herself together. "Are you blackmailing me?"
"Now that's an ugly accusation," Sandy complained, feigning hurt.
"If I let you talk to Marissa… You'll forget about our conversation? About the prenup?" she asked warily.
Sandy shook his head from side to side. "Julie, Julie, Julie…. You know I can't lie if they ask me questions." He paused, before continuing. "But there are different ways to tell the truth…"
She blinked several times, before whispering, "I don't know… It's too much to think about…"
Sandy watched as she pulled herself together, realizing he still had some convincing to do.
"I'm just glad you've got such faith in the system, Julie. That you can rely on it to give you exactly what you deserve…"
She sputtered, "I didn't … this is … it's …" She stopped, and blinked slowly before finally asking, "Do you think I need a lawyer?'
He shook his head slowly up and down.
"Would you.."
"No, Julie. I can't. I'm sure you understand. Cal was my wife's father. Besides, Kirsten and Ryan need my full attention right now. And Seth…" He shrugged helplessly.
She nodded. "Who would you recommend?" she managed to ask.
Sandy shook his head. "You see, Julie, that's the thing. Caleb had just about every top firm in the area under retainer. That was always one of his tricks to keep his competitors from hiring any of the premier legal talent – a highly recommended strategy if you can afford it. If you think you might be sued. So you see, just about any decent firm is conflicted. I do have a couple of people I would normally recommend, but here's my problem – I may need them for Ryan…"
Julie's eyes narrowed once again. "Fine, Sandy. I'll hire someone from outside the area."
"With what money?"
"I've got plenty of money," she snapped.
"Not after Kirsten files for an injunction, prohibiting you from touching any of Caleb's assets until the legal issues surrounding his death have been settled. And Jimmy doesn't have nearly the kind of resources you'll need to fight this thing."
This time Julie gasped, as she began to see her dilemma. "You wouldn't really do that, would you? File for an injunction?" Her mouth quivered, as real fear set in.
Sandy looked down at the ground, and back at Julie. He closed the space between them, and put one hand gently on her shoulder. She looked at him hopefully, as he whispered, "In a heartbeat."
She froze, not breathing for several seconds, before drawing in an indignant breath. "Fine. Talk to Marissa. We'll cooperate," she spat, twisting away from him.
Sandy smiled thinly, pleased with the result if not the methodology. "Good. I knew we'd work this out…"
She glared.
He smiled more coldly. "Just one more thing, Julie. If I hear you've said or done anything that hurts Ryan, I won't rest until we're even. Understood?"
Julie drew her lips together, before squeezing out a clipped "Trust me Sandy, I understand!" She whirled around, and headed toward Marissa's room, Sandy following close behind.
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As Sandy left the house forty-five minutes later, Julie caught up with him.
"Channeling Caleb Nichol much these days?" she demanded.
Sandy felt sucker-punched by Julie's question, but turned to face her and held his ground. "I'd channel the devil himself if that's what it took to save my family."
Julie glared at him. "Then congratulations, Sandy. I think you just did!" She wheeled, and marched back inside the house.
Sandy made his way back to his BMW, muttering under his breath, "You should know…"
He looked at his watch. Only four hours and a visit with Trey Atwood separating him from seeing Kirsten.
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tbc
A/N2: Reviews appreciated – your thoughts, comments, advice, etc. are like manna for the hungry…. Many thanks! And a very special thanks to those of you who have repeatedly been so generous with your time and your incites. Merci beaucoup…