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. Simply borrowing… (The only things that are mine are any errors.)
A/N: This latest chapter cried to be broken in two, and I obliged – it would have been far too long otherwise. But the end is in sight – I promise! So once again, welcome to my AU.
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Time: Picks up immediately after Chapter 9, still Morning of Day 5
Sandy closed his eyes, as he felt Ryan's arms wrapping gently around him. Pressing his chin against the boy's blond hair, he silently thanked Trey for his pointed words from yesterday. To think – he might have settled for something… less... like so many times before.
And missing this connection?
Unthinkable…
>>>>>>>
Sandy felt Ryan's weight slowly pressing more heavily against his shoulder, as the boy leaned into him for support. He shifted his stance slightly, ensuring he stood unyielding as the Pacific rushed past them… protecting his son from being knocked about by its momentum.
Just like he'd protect this child from other forces that now threatened him.
Sadly, he realized those forces were not all external. The kid could be his own worst enemy, as he turned his strengths against himself. For although this kid was more than willing to forgive others their failures and imperfections, to allow for their humanity – he seemed unprepared to grant himself the same concession. The boy's ruthless self-assessment could not have been more evident than it had been this morning, revealed in the guilt-racked words of his confession.
Sandy had been stunned. Although the teenager constantly amazed him, he'd never expected the kid to open up to them like that, exposing himself and his fears so completely.
Where, given the childhood this boy had lived through, had Ryan's moral compass come from? His courage? His honesty? His heart? In the midst of certain darkness, who or what had shaped this boy?
Sandy frowned in self-reproach.
How had he not seen this all before? Not sought answers? Not sought help?
Before his son was shattered?
Sandy felt tears gathering in his eyes, but he wasn't willing to move a hand to dry them. Not while Ryan stood inside his arms, so lost and broken.
Old lines taunted him, their simplistic warnings threatening their future.
All the king's horses and all the king's men…
Firmly shoving those words aside, Sandy clenched his jaws together, vowing stubbornly they'd find the way to put this kid back together again.
He felt Ryan stir, before the boy slowly straightened and pulled away.
They'd had a 'moment' – but it would take so much more to undo the damage this kid had suffered growing up… And, Sandy thought ruefully, to ease the new pain Ryan had suffered under their watch …
Ryan's face tilted up, revealing liquid dark blue eyes.
Eyes that spoke even when the child did not. Sandy saw what he'd expected.
Pain. Wonder. Guilt. Embarrassment. Confusion. They were all there, struggling for position.
Clearly, the kid's mind had re-engaged. And while Ryan's heart might have had its own agenda, Sandy knew the boy's head would be their greater challenge.
He took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he was sure was coming.
>>>>>>>
Ryan's thoughts were racing, as he tried to assign meaning to the incomprehensible. Raising his head hesitantly, he found Sandy's eyes scanning his face, concern written in their blue depths.
He struggled to find his voice, finally managing to whisper, "I don't get it, Sandy. I don't understand…"
Sandy drew in a heavy breath, and let it out before smiling reassuringly, "I know, son. So for this second, just hang on to this – nothing you said changes how we feel."
Blinking, Ryan tried to rearrange his guardian's words so they made sense. Because … things had to have changed, didn't they?
Sandy spoke again, his voice gentle, "What do you say we go back and sit down? There's so much more I want us to talk about, Ryan. So many things you need to hear." He placed a hand on Ryan's shoulder, squeezing carefully. Seeming mindful of his bruises.
Ryan focused on his guardian's hand, his eyes slowly following the extended arm back toward Sandy's body, and up to Sandy's face.
As he stood staring, it slowly registered that the surf was still slapping against his legs, its cold hands reaching up past his knees. The roar of the water seemed to fill his head, making it almost impossible to think.
"Ryan?" Sandy's voice broke through the noise, re-focusing his attention.
It was just so hard to speak. The words refused to come at all this time, so he nodded his assent. He felt his foster father's hand slide across his back, as Sandy wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and propelled him slowly back toward the table.
How could he suddenly feel so lost again? How was that possible? When only minutes earlier he had felt so… euphoric? So reassured?
And how was it that some piece of him needed this physical connection with his guardian, but another part wanted to sharply shrug Sandy's arm off his shoulders and inject a safer distance between them?
It was like everything seemed off, somehow – too dreamlike to be real. And although he trusted these people more than he'd trusted anyone in a very long time, how could he believe words he couldn't even understand?
Like, could the man beside him really love him, despite everything he'd told them? Everything he'd done? God, how was that even possible?
And …
He slowed down as he noticed the empty table looming ahead of them.
When he saw the deserted shoreline, his heart froze. He had the sensation that liquid lead pumped through its chambers… the movement too hard, the beats erratic.
Feeling almost sick, he stopped in his tracks, causing Sandy to halt as well.
"What is it, Ryan?" Sandy's eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes bored into Ryan's.
"Kirsten," Ryan mumbled.
He anxiously scanned the alcove, but she was clearly gone. He hung his head, and scrunched his eyes together as a tremor rocked his body. He should have known.
He felt Sandy's arm tighten, as his foster father said softly, "It's okay, kid. She's not deserted us, I promise you."
Sandy sounded so certain…
But in Ryan's world, people left. Everyone left, eventually. Everyone he loved.
Nonetheless, when Sandy urged him forward once more, he complied, wrapping his arms tightly around his midriff. He focused intently on the sand covering his sodden boots, unable to face the emptiness where Kirsten used to be. He felt his stomach churning as his reflections grew more dismal.
He slowly realized that his feet were cold. That he was cold. That here, under a brilliant California sun, his teeth were starting to chatter.
"Uh-oh," Sandy's voice startled him. His guardian said softly, "Mom alert, kid."
Ryan looked up from his dark musings, astonished to see Kirsten striding through the palms, arms laden with towels and other items. As she drew near, she glanced first at Ryan and then directed her attention to Sandy.
"He's freezing, Sandy. What is it with you guys and that frigid fish-infested water, anyway? His lips are blue…" she fumed.
"Honey, it's in the 70's today," Sandy argued easily. "No one's gonna' freeze out here."
"And the water temperature is probably somewhere in the 50's," she countered, unimpressed.
Startled to hear the exasperation in her voice, Ryan jumped in to defend his guardian. "It's my fault, Kirsten. Don't be mad at Sandy, please. Be mad at me, okay?"
Her face softened instantly, as she shoved her armload of towels and other items into Sandy's hands and turned to Ryan. To his surprise, she wrapped her arms around him, saying quietly, "I'm not mad, sweetheart. Just… worried."
Dazed, Ryan returned her hug cautiously, a little afraid that he might hug her too hard.
Involuntarily, a shiver ran through his body.
She released him, backing up a step and urging, "Come on, Ryan. To the chairs. I want you to get those wet boots and socks off this instant."
How could he tell a hovering Kirsten that the cold he felt wasn't really from his water-logged feet or soaked legs? It was so much deeper than that.
He was more than a little grateful when Sandy distracted Kirsten, complaining, "Hey! What about me? Where's my hug? Remember honey, I'm wet, too."
Ryan stood rooted, unable to move as Kirsten gave Sandy an indulgent smile, before instructing her husband pertly, "You can bring the towels."
When she turned back from Sandy to see that Ryan hadn't stirred from his position, Kirsten crossed her arms and glared, snapping, "Boots. Socks. Now. I mean it, Ryan."
Ryan flicked his eyebrows, relieved. There was finally something he could understand. That was Kirsten in mom-overdrive, and if he'd learned anything while living with the Cohens, it was that whenever she adopted that demeanor you'd better do as she instructed.
Quickly moving to obey her, he stripped off the offending footwear, revealing shriveled toes. Moments later, his toweled feet were resting on the toasted sand, while Kirsten continued to fuss over him. She finally seemed to relax when he finished the steaming cup of tea she'd insisted that he drink.
As he handed a calmer Kirsten his empty cup, Ryan felt warmer. Still lost, still wet… but definitely warmer.
Setting the cup down, Kirsten started sorting through the stack of items she'd brought out. While she was searching, she explained, "I borrowed some of the clinic's medical scrubs so you two can change into something dry." She turned around triumphantly, having located the drawstring pants she sought. "Why don't you take a minute, and go do that?" She held out the pants.
Ryan looked at the scrubs, alarmed. She couldn't be serious. "But they… they're pink, Kirsten."
Sandy snorted, "Yeah, honey, Ryan and I aren't exactly 'pink pants' kind of guys."
Ryan watched as Kirsten turned her glare on Sandy, thinking she was pretty effective. That look worked for her.
His guardian seemed to realize he'd made a mistake, and tried to mollify his wife. "I'm just saying, pink's not my first color choice…"
Kirsten's eyes flashed, and her voice brokered no argument as she responded, "They are not pink. They're salmon. And they're dry."
Her words were followed swiftly by a toss of scrubs. Ryan raised his eyebrows as his pair landed with some force against his chest. The woman had more strength in that skinny little arm than he'd imagined…
Quickly glancing up at her, he thought she looked like the Kirsten he remembered from the first year he lived with them. Kirsten Classic.
She thrust one arm, finger pointed, toward the bath house. "Get moving, the pair of you – I don't want to hear another word from either of you until you've changed."
'Kirsten Classic' suddenly reminded Ryan a little of the Borg Queen. In either case, he figured resistance was freakin' futile…
He rose to his feet, looking across at Sandy, who grinned back ruefully.
"Come on kid. Trust me, we don't want to argue with Kirsten when she uses that voice. We may as well suck it up, and go with the salmon…" His guardian's dimples showed themselves as the man tucked his scrubs under his arm, and motioned for Ryan to follow him to the bath house. As they walked bare-footed through the palms, Sandy added, "Look at the bright side. She didn't bring us salmon booties."
"Pink," Ryan muttered, relieved that Seth was back at school.
>>>>>>>
Staring at his reflection in the mirrored back wall of the bath house, Sandy decided he looked pretty good in salmon. He turned sideways, and raised his eyebrows.
Damn fine ass…
He snorted, thinking metaphorically he shouldn't have much of an ass left. Between Seth, Dr. Kim, Child Services, Julie, Trey, the police, and even Kirsten, it'd been chewed on pretty thoroughly. And he knew that the ADA and Ryan's PO were probably next in line to get their chunks. Which was okay – he figured he deserved their wrath. He could take whatever they doled out, and he'd survive.
Just as long as Ryan wasn't incarcerated or taken away from them. And versus four days ago? The odds were definitely improving…
Sandy allowed himself a little smile as he thought about his foster son, who had exited irritably a few minutes ago. The teenager hadn't exactly embraced the salmon scrubs. His teasing hadn't helped the situation either, judging by the steely glare and rolling eyes the boy had directed his way. Still, it was kind of comforting to see the kid behaving like a kid for once.
Her voice came out of nowhere, "So, are you mad, too?"
Startled, Sandy saw his wife's anxious reflection staring at him.
"What do you mean, honey?" he asked, turning to face Kirsten.
"Ryan's positively sulking, and you're hiding out in here. I'm starting to feel like some witch…"
He quickly crossed the lobby, and took her in his arms, assuring her, "Well, if you are, you're a very good witch." He thought it was probably best not to bring up Ryan's testy snipe about assimilation. She might not appreciate the humor…
When her eyebrows furrowed, he hastened to explain, "Honey, I'm not hiding. I'm just giving Ryan a few more minutes to sulk. And trust me, he's not mad at you… although he might be a little ticked with me right now. I mighta' teased him a little, although, I gotta' say, I was pretty funny…"
She rolled her eyes at him, glaring just a little.
Sandy raised his eyebrows, grinning. "That was exactly his reaction."
"Sandy!" she admonished sharply.
He shrugged, "Honey, the fact is kids let down walls at a cost. We've both seen it with Seth. I used to see it all the time with the kids I represented – they'd reveal something to me, and then feel exposed or be embarrassed. So they'd start an argument, or became withdrawn or moody. It's a way to re-establish their autonomy."
Kirsten sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder, "Ryan just tore down a massive wall…"
Sandy stroked her hair, thinking it felt like some miracle of silk-spun gold spilling through his fingers.
He rested his chin on her head, saying quietly, "That's what I'm saying... just imagine how vulnerable he's feeling. So if grumbling about wearing the scrubs helps Ryan cope a little better, it's okay. It's probably even good. It's a safe outlet, and besides, the kid needs to start letting us know when he doesn't like something."
She tilted her head back, fixing him with her soft blue eyes, "You think?"
"Absolutely," he assured her, adding silently to himself, 'As long as he doesn't close down. Or worse yet, give up...'
>>>>>>>
As Sandy and Kirsten approached, Ryan scrunched his toes into the sand, feeling like he needed grounding. He kept trying to wrap his head around everything that had been said this morning, still without success.
What if he allowed himself to trust the Cohens? What if he accepted that their words applied to him?
He dug his feet deeper into the sand, trying to anchor himself. To stop his head from spinning.
It was all simply too big for him to comprehend. Too surreal…
"Let's talk, kid," Sandy smiled fleetingly, as he sat down. Their chairs were pulled side by side, their wide armrests meeting. Sandy laid his arm beside Ryan's, so that they lightly touched.
Ryan found himself staring at the tangle of dark hair on Sandy's forearm, noticing how it contrasted with the sun-bleached blondness of his own. Pretty obvious there was no shared DNA there, but this man felt so much more like a real father than Dad ever had. And yet, was there anything further from the truth…?
"Ryan?" Sandy nudged him lightly.
Focusing, Ryan nodded his assent, watching as Kirsten settled in, curling up in a chair not far from Sandy. She faced them both, but was angled closer toward her husband.
Sandy glanced at her, and then turned to Ryan, saying, "You think that what we've said – what I'm going to say – is based on an image that isn't real. You're worried that we didn't know everything we should have known about your fight with Trey. So let's address those things. At least make a first pass."
Ryan leaned heavily back against his chair, dropping his chin to his chest. He could be such a fucking idiot sometimes. He'd actually allowed himself to start imagining all that stuff they'd said might still count, just because Sandy had been kind enough to come after him, and Kirsten had taken care of him when he was cold and wet. Of course, this was where they'd qualify their words.
Picking at a drawstring, he forced himself to speak. "I'm sorry," he managed to say, "about everything."
He raised his head, to find two sets of eyes watching him closely.
Kirsten shook her head, "We know, sweetheart. We're sorry, too. But you need to realize, Ryan, you didn't really surprise us with what you said about how you were pretending this year. If we hadn't both been distracted, we would have recognized that things weren't right. The fact is, Ryan… we screwed up, or we'd have been talking about this months ago…"
Ryan blinked, as he processed what she'd just said.
"Guess I'm getting better at hiding the truth," he offered carefully, trying to lesson the guilt he swore he heard in her voice.
Sandy nudged him, shaking his head when their eyes met. "Guess again, kid. You just happened to catch us in a really bad… year. Which won't be repeated, so don't even think about playacting again. Capiche?"
Ryan recognized the 'parent' voice Sandy used when he meant business. The delivery was so 'Sandy-esque'… serious words softened with just a trace of humor.
He nodded, feeling more amazed than chastised. They were acting like they were somehow at fault, when he'd been the one to lie. Freakin' unbelievable.
Kirsten smiled a little sadly, as she leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. Her eyes caught his, before she sighed and said, "You know, Ryan, you weren't the only one pretending this year. I'm just starting to realize, I've been pretending for a very long time myself. Pretending to be the perfect daughter. Frustrated because no matter how hard I tried, I never measured up… It's complicated – I've got to do a lot of work to figure it all out, but you know what? It's a relief not to play that role anymore. I'm just not cut out for that part." She made a face, as she nodded her head toward their surroundings. "Obviously," she added self-consciously.
"Honey," Sandy reacted, reaching for one of her hands, "Perfect's far too 'Stepford' for my tastes. Give me human any day, okay? We'll make it through this." He touched Ryan's wrist, adding, "That goes for you, too, kid."
Ryan was still absorbing what Kirsten had said. She'd pretended, too? She thought somehow she didn't measure up? Incredible.
That was Caleb's doing, he was sure. As much as he despised the wreckage caused by his own father, he wasn't sure he would have traded his dad for Kirsten's. Dad's terror had been largely direct and predictable, unlike what he had seen of Caleb Nichol's mind games. That guy had been freakin' Machiavellian.
Realizing Sandy was speaking again, Ryan turned to see his guardian watching him curiously.
Sandy raised his eyebrows, teasing, "Glad you could join me again, kid."
"Sorry."
Sandy shrugged affably, as he continued, "I was just saying, if everyone who wasn't perfect had to leave our family, there wouldn't be anyone left. Start with me, for example. I didn't listen when my kid tried to talk to me. I hurt the people I love more than life, I didn't pay enough attention to what was happening under our own roof, I've been careless and thoughtless and smug – altogether, not exactly the poster-guy for perfection, hum?" He grimaced self-effacingly.
Ryan blinked, unsure of how to respond. He didn't need Sandy to be perfect. He just needed him to be there… But before he could put together a coherent sentence, Sandy put up a hand, holding him off.
Placing his hand on Ryan's arm, Sandy leaned toward him. His voice thoughtful, Sandy asked, "And about Seth? Couldn't love him more, but I know that he can be selfish and self-absorbed, we've all seen that he can talk way too much, there are lots of times when he's not much of a listener, and face it, he often take things – even people – for granted…"
Sandy paused, coaxing, "You guys can stop me anytime here, you know."
"I kinda' like his talking, sometimes," Ryan offered honestly, thinking that while everything Sandy said was kind of true, it didn't matter. Yeah, it'd be great if Seth got over himself a little, but in the end, the guy was his best friend… hell, even his pseudo-'brother', quirks and all. And he was pretty awesome.
Sandy snorted, "You like his talking when he takes the focus off of you, kid." His guardian waited until Ryan's eyes met his before warning gently, "Don't count on that so much going forward, either. Hiding behind Seth's words…" His guardian patted his arm a final time, before releasing him.
Ryan nodded and looked away, thinking it'd be safer not to say anything else. Afraid maybe he'd clue Sandy in on something else to watch for in the future. But really liking those words – going forward. He was pulled back from his musing when Kirsten cleared her throat.
Arching her eyebrows, she nudged Sandy with a toe. "When you describe Seth's imperfections that way, I can't help but think…" She paused and smirked, "…he's clearly your son, honey."
Sandy raised his eyebrows, before nodding and grinning a little crookedly. "Clearly. Good thing he gets all his endearing qualities from you…"
Kirsten smiled warmly at Sandy for a long second, before allowing, "He might get a couple from you…"
Ryan watched the pair exchange a look so intimate it made him blush a little, before they re-focused on him.
Kirsten's smile faded, as she leaned back in her chair, sighing, "And the fact we're here at Suriak tells my story all too painfully. I've been so angry, without realizing why. And hurt... but it was like I couldn't localize the pain. I'm still trying to understand the sources, because they're not all obvious to me. Not yet… but the thing is, I'm learning. I mean, we all make mistakes. But what comes next is the thing that's important. What we learn from mistakes. How we use that to grow. To change. How we move forward…"
She stopped, reflective. Ryan's stomach clinched, as he thought how he had hurt her – with leaving, with Lindsey, with Caleb... He looked across at her, to see her biting her lip as she watched him.
She frowned slightly, before her face cleared. "Ryan, honey, I can almost guess what you're thinking right now. But, listen to me, sweetie. Don't worry that you're somehow at fault for how I'm feeling, because you're not. You, and Seth, and Sandy – you guys are the sunshine in my life."
He felt his color rising again, thinking his ears were probably turning a lovely shade of…salmon. She said such amazing things sometimes, so unexpectedly.
Sunshine? Him? Yeah, right…
Ryan's thoughts were interrupted as Kirsten stood up, and crossed to the empty space in front of their chairs. She sank down gracefully, resting on her heels. Gathering their hands in hers, she looked up and said earnestly, "So, newsflash – none of us are perfect. I'm thinking that's okay – the real goal should be to keep learning and growing." She broke off, slightly off-balance.
Ryan twined his fingers around hers carefully, moving to the edge of his seat. His angled his legs supportively beside her body, steadying her with one hand.
Sandy reacted, too, moving closer and brushing back Kirsten's hair. Letting his fingers linger against her cheek.
Kirsten covered Sandy's hand with her own, pressing her cheek into his palm. Her other hand squeezed Ryan's tighter as she continued, "I love this family … the 'us' that we've created. You guys, Seth, and I. And yeah, there may be more perfect families out there, but none that I'd rather be a part of."
She stopped to swipe at her eyes before continuing, "What I believe is this… as long as we've got us, we've got everything that matters."
Sandy leaned forward, and brushed her forehead with his lips. His lips lingered there for several moments, while she squeezed their hands tightly.
Pulling back, Sandy's dimples flashed across his face, as he teased, "I don't know, honey. Those more perfect families? Do you suppose one of them has a wife who can cook?"
"Not funny," she sniffed, smacking Sandy's knee but giggling a little under her breath. She stood up, motioning for them to stay seated. "Just give me a second, okay guys? This whole sharing thing is kinda' new for me."
She started to move away, but turned back, her voice lightly mocking, "And Ryan? Still loving you, honey. Sandy? Sweetheart? Not so much…"
Ryan slid back in his chair and glanced across at Sandy, who had turned puppy eyes toward his wife. "Come on, honey – you kinda' set me up…"
He watched as Kirsten feigned a glare, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away. She allowed, "Okay, maybe I'm loving you a little, Sandy, when you look at me like that. I always wanted a shaggy black Briard…"
She sniffed again, rolling her eyes a little self-consciously before turning and walking several yards out through the palms.
"Do you need to be with her now?" Ryan asked, a little worried.
Sandy grimaced, as he settled back into his chair. "I think she's being honest about wanting a few minutes, but trust me, I'm watching. And I'll be right beside her the instant I think she wants me there. Earlier, if I think she needs me…"
Ryan nodded, thinking that he'd have to trust Sandy on that one.
Sandy leaned his head toward Ryan, as though about to share a confidence. "You know, it's hard to figure out sometimes, kid. It's not always clear when to give someone their space, and when to step in. I don't always get it right, either. Sometimes I stay a little more distant than I'd like, because I worry that if I press too much? Get too close? I might make them uncomfortable. I might even end up driving them further away, when that's the very last thing I want."
Ryan flicked his eyebrows, wondering how to respond to that. He said softly, "I guess it kinda' works both ways, huh? 'Cause sometimes, maybe what they really want is for you to step in anyway…"
Glancing sideways he saw Sandy close his eyes, and rest his head back against the chair. His guardian's hand rubbed across his wrist, squeezing gently before patting and releasing it. "Good to know, kid," he whispered.
Sandy then changed topics, his voice non-committal, "What Kirsten said, about what matters? Some people would disagree, you know. They'd say it's the things. The money."
Ryan ducked his head, rubbing a finger against the armrest, as he responded quietly, "They'd be wrong."
Sandy raised his eyebrows, "I think so, too. Smart woman, your mother, wouldn't you say?"
Trying not to be too distracted by the 'your mother' part, Ryan nodded. "Kirsten's amazing."
When Sandy didn't respond, Ryan lifted his head to look at his foster father. He found Sandy smiling at him.
His guardian reached over to place a hand against his back, gripping his shoulder. "Yeah, kid, she is amazing. And so are you."
>>>>>>>
When they were all re-seated, Kirsten was the first to speak. "You can't know how sorry I am about what happened with Trey. Sandy and I know that we share a lot of the responsibility for that, even if you can't see it that way right now. But believe me – we heard you, honey. How you felt. How angry you were that night. How the loss of control scared you. And especially how you're not sure you trust yourself now."
Ryan grimaced slightly, forcing himself to face her. Her body was leaning toward him, her eyes soft and caring.
Her voice held back none of her feelings, as she said, "To tell us that? To risk sharing feelings that personal and intense? That was huge, Ryan."
He ducked his head, hoping that she'd stop there. That was far enough…
But she continued, "For people like you and me – who tend to keep things hidden – that would have taken enormous courage even if you knew exactly how we'd react. But to take that risk when the consequences must have seemed unclear to you, or worse? That says so much about your character, Ryan. I wish you could see that, like we do."
Ryan groaned, unwilling to touch what she'd said. Especially not that last part, about character. He'd heard about his character all his life, and precious little of it had ever been good.
Instead, he leaned forward, rubbing his palms nervously against his thighs, as he looked across as Kirsten. "So, exactly what happens now?" He swallowed, glancing over at Sandy and adding, "Now that you know about Trey?"
Kirsten rose, circling behind his chair, and then perching on the right armrest. She ran one hand through his hair before sliding it across his shoulders and speaking earnestly, "Now we move forward. We work through what happened. Figure out why it happened. Over time. Okay?"
"You mean therapy, don't you?" he grimaced.
"Got a better plan?" Sandy asked, a touch of challenge visible in his face.
Shaking his head, Ryan admitted, "Not really. But I don't know that it'll help. I mean, I don't know if anything would help."
When his response was met by silence, Ryan bit his lip, and whispered, "But… I mean, I'm … I'll try it, okay?"
He looked quickly at Sandy, who nodded, saying, "It's time, Ryan. And you won't be on your own – we'll be with you, kid."
Sandy touched him, waiting until their eyes met before he said seriously, "We've got to face your past, before it shapes our future."
Ryan shrugged and nodded, not trusting himself to say anything more. Wondering if he'd just made another mistake…
Kirsten leaned in, and kissed his hair lightly, "Thanks, honey. We'll look at some options, and figure out together how we go forward."
She stood up, walking back to her seat as she spoke again, "But right now? We'd like to try offering you a little perspective. Hopefully help you see what happened with Trey a little differently."
Ryan wondered what that meant. What different perspective was there? He knew exactly what he'd done…
He shrank back in his chair a little when Sandy stood up and crossed in front of him. Suddenly, he felt a little like a defendant about to be grilled by a very competent attorney.
Sandy paced a couple of feet, before stopping and turning to Ryan. "When you went to Trey's, before things escalated, tell me again. What were you planning to do? What do you remember?" Sandy's voice was even, but insistent.
Ryan closed his eyes, wishing he didn't have to go through this again. He'd answered Sandy's questions before. The thing was, though, he'd never answered them in front of Kirsten. And she deserved the same honesty he'd given Sandy, and nothing less. Suck it up, he thought, drawing in a deep breath before replying to a waiting Sandy.
He opened his eyes and started talking, answering as honestly as he could, keeping his eyes averted most of the time. Just stealing tiny glances at Sandy and at Kirsten as he spoke. "I'm not sure – it's not like I had any real plan. I just remember wanting to confront him. Make him pay for what he'd done to Marissa."
He looked up at Sandy, who was standing still, his hands in his pockets. His eyes seemed more sympathetic than Ryan had expected. Grimacing, he continued, "He hurt her, Sandy. And then used her silence. 'Cause at one point, Trey actually accused Marissa of coming on to him. And then I find out that he attacked her…"
He stopped, as he felt Kirsten's eyes watching him. He wished that she didn't have to hear this. Didn't have to hear him say the only word that described his brother's crime. That she didn't have to be reminded so viscerally of his blood, his family, or his shame…
But this wasn't about his discomfort. It was about truth, and Kirsten's right to know. He bit his lip, as he struggled to explain, "I mean, I find out that she wasn't covering up hooking up with him – she was covering up the fact that Trey tried to rape her. That she had to beat him off of her! I wanted to punish him for hurting her like that. And for lying to me about it – trying to make it look like she'd done something wrong."
That part wasn't as bleary. He remembered how angry he was when Seth told him what had really happened, he remembered grabbing the keys, he remembered driving over to Trey's apartment… Things got a little less clear from the minute Trey opened the door, and really blurry from the moment Trey pulled the gun…
He forced himself to face his foster father, waiting for Sandy to say something. Anything.
"So, you're saying at that moment, you were basically going over to Trey's apartment to kick your brother's ass?"
Ryan couldn't help himself. He looked at Kirsten's face, waiting for her to admonish Sandy for saying 'ass'. But other than a tiny frown, she made no protest. He guessed this was all too far from normal for the standard rules to still apply. He knew he'd already strayed far across their lines without being reprimanded. Still, probably not a great idea to push the Cohens, particularly Kirsten, while he had the faculty to avoid it.
He turned back to Sandy and shrugged, "Yeah, pretty much."
"You know the first thing you did wrong, don't you?" Sandy's eyes caught his, reiterating his question.
That was new – the question about his error. Sandy hadn't discussed where he'd gone wrong before. He'd merely sought to ascertain the facts.
Dropping his head, Ryan nodded. But it was clear Sandy wanted to hear words. "I shouldn't have gone over there," he whispered.
Sandy shook his head. "That's right, you shouldn't have. You should have found another option, kid. The obvious one would have been to talk to me, but Seth pointed out that I haven't exactly been around much this year. So I'll allow that maybe talking to me didn't seem so obvious at the time. But Ryan, we've got to find other channels for your anger than your fists." The parent voice was back.
Picking at the scrubs, Ryan felt his stomach clinching. "I know," he acknowledged softly.
Sandy nodded, "I know you know. But that's not enough anymore. You know that, too, right?"
Looking up, Ryan nodded. He knew it all too well… Shit, more therapy.
"Let's leave that on the table for a few minutes, while we finish talking about what happened that night."
Ryan ducked his head again, confessing, "I can't explain it, Sandy. When Trey opened the door, it wasn't just about Marissa. It was also about the car we stole that night, and some stuff that happened when I saw him in prison, and… I guess kinda' our whole history. When he pulled the gun – when we started fighting, that's when…" he stopped, dropping his head into one hand, unable to say the words again.
He felt Sandy's hand against his back, as his guardian sat down beside him. He wondered if Sandy felt his body tremble, as he fought against the tears that suddenly threatened.
"We know, Ryan," Sandy said gently. "We know."
Feeling more composed, Ryan mouthed the word "Thanks," before straightening.
Sandy nodded as he settled back into his chair, moving his arm back to the armrest, and placing it next to Ryan's.
Tapping his thumb against the armrest in an uneven rhythm, Sandy spoke evenly, "I'm curious. How'd Trey get the upper hand in your fight? I'd have thought you could have taken him pretty easily."
Surprised at the question, Ryan didn't answer right away. But Sandy just kept tapping, the sound like a timer run amok, counting down seconds haphazardly. Unclear when time would run out…
Ryan shrugged, finally explaining, "He's tougher than he looks, I guess."
The tapping stopped, as Sandy's eyes searched his until he ducked to escape their probing. Because the truth was Trey wasn't that tough. He shoulda' been able to take his older brother. It wasn't like when they were kids. Trey wasn't bigger any more, and he certainly wasn't stronger… But the fact remained that Trey had won the fight. At least, he should have… without Marissa's intervention.
Sandy resumed his tapping, as he mused, "You know what I'm thinking? Maybe on some level you weren't prepared to win. Didn't want to win…"
Ryan found his temper rising a little. Maybe more than a little. Crap. Was that the reason they were being so fucking understanding?
He gripped the arms of his chair tightly, feeling Sandy's eyes on him, but refusing to look up. He made an effort to keep his voice in check, but it still sounded a little sharp as he answered, "Before Trey got the advantage – before he had me down, I beat the shit out of him, Sandy. I wanted to hurt him, okay? And I don't know about different levels – I just know as we were fighting, I wanted him to die. Some part of me, all of me? In the end, does it actually matter?"
The silence that followed was worse than a reprimand. What was he thinking? Sandy was giving him an out of sorts, and he'd thrown it back in his face. Ryan looked up, expecting to find his guardian's disapproving frown. But the frown the man wore was born of concern, not anger.
Swallowing, Ryan mumbled, "Sorry about snapping. I just… I guess it doesn't feel right, somehow. Claiming that losing the fight makes me somehow less culpable, you know?"
He saw Kirsten's head tilt, and heard her murmur, "Oh, honey…"
Sandy just shrugged, pulling his hands into a steeple in front of his face as he replied, "I'm just saying, I think it's something you should explore. Because I still don't see how he could take you, unless you let him…"
Ryan chewed on his lip for a few seconds before responding quietly, "I'll think about it, okay?"
Nodding, his foster father pressed his mouth into a line. Letting out a breath, Sandy continued, "About what happened, after you got to Trey's apartment. Do you know what I see?" He raised his eyebrows.
Ryan forced himself to face his guardian, as he slowly shook his head from side to side.
Sandy smiled a little sadly, as he asked gently, "Are you willing to listen, kid?"
Ryan snorted softly, "No choice. I promised, remember?"
>>>>>>>
Sandy settled back in his chair, facing ahead, much as though they were in a car with Sandy at the wheel. Ryan settled back as well, staring straight ahead as he tried to keep his breathing from becoming too rapid.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan saw Sandy turn his head and quickly glance at him, before focusing resolutely on his hands while he seemed to collect his thoughts. Sandy began to push determinedly at his cuticles, his voice resonant with carefully controlled emotion as he spoke, "I see a kid… who's haunted by events from his past, and who is freshly traumatized by images of his girlfriend being attacked. Not by some stranger, but by someone this kid wanted to believe in."
He pushed harder at his nails as he went on, "I see a boy who's been brutally betrayed by his older brother."
Sandy frowned and shook his head disbelievingly as he kept talking, "I see this kid's brother unthinkably threatening his life with a gun. But I know it's not the gun itself that triggers the reaction. You see, I've seen this kid face down a gun in the hands of a lunatic, and stay calm. And I know of at least one other time it happened, when his friends were threatened at a party… But there's a difference. It's because this time, the hand on the gun belongs to his brother. And I think it probably doesn't matter at that moment why the brother does it – maybe he's scared, maybe he's feeling trapped, maybe he's jealous… Who knows? The fact that he does it at all hurts so damned bad, it's impossible to breath."
Ryan ducked his head, as he swallowed hard. For not having been there, Sandy had a pretty good imagination. Because even Dawn's leaving hadn't cut as deeply as had Trey's callous contempt for his life.
Sandy continued, saying, "I see a single moment in time – when the gun is drawn? When a brother makes the ultimate threat? I'm not sure… but there's a time where the past and present intersect tragically, bringing out old anger, and pain, and frustration, and mixing it together with the new violence and betrayals. It's like adding fuel and sparks to a long smoldering fire. And the result? Sudden, intense, uncontrolled combustion."
Sandy's voice was thick, but tempered by reason. Ryan found himself listening, thinking this version of what happened somehow played differently from the one stuck inside his head.
His guardian went on, "And then I see a kid that's simply reacting to all this powerful stimuli… who's been forced by circumstances largely beyond his ability or capacity to control to a place where he's operating largely beyond conscious thought."
Ryan barely breathed as his foster-father pressed further, "Basic human instinct urges this kid to fight for his own survival. Behaviors he's been exposed to… has lived with growing up… have taught this kid to use his fists, to settle scores, and to punish a betrayer. And that's just about all this boy's got to go on.
"And so this kid fights fiercely, but not hard enough to win. Because he couldn't? Or because his better angels wouldn't let him?" Sandy shrugged ambiguously, before adding, "I have my opinion, but regardless of whether or not I'm right, it doesn't change my feelings."
As Sandy paused, Ryan winced, realizing that he had been pressing his fingers cruelly into his bicep, the pain keeping him focused and present… Listening, and not just reliving the horror of that night.
He felt his guardian's body leaning toward his own, as Sandy's voice took on more urgency, "But this much I know -- this extreme behavior doesn't reflect who this kid is, on any conscious level. It's certainly not who he tries to be, or who he wants to be, or who he will be in the future."
"And I can't forget, this is a kid facing a situation he should never have had to face. That he would never have faced, if he'd been parented properly. If he'd had someone watching out for him."
Massaging his upper arm, Ryan searched for some response. As the silence lengthened, he gave up, mumbling only, "I don't know… I just … I don't know…"
Ryan felt Sandy's hand at his back, as his guardian said softly. "But maybe I do, Ryan. I've seen kids go through trauma like this, had clients who found themselves in similar circumstances… It's horrible, and heartbreaking, and utterly human. But in the end, Ryan, what happened with Trey is understandable, and what's more, it's forgivable."
"That was never even a question, Ryan," assured Kirsten, swiping at her eyes.
Ryan wondered how long he'd forgotten to breath, as he sucked in air. Sandy's hand rubbed his back slowly, as he took several deep breaths before he spoke. Keeping his eyes carefully focused ahead, he summoned up his courage.
He couldn't keep his voice from shaking, as he put the question that haunted him into words, "So, you don't see … just… just some kind of monster?"
"No! Never! Ryan, sweetheart…", Kirsten's head was tilted, and her eyes were wide with concern. Ryan saw her look to Sandy, as she seemed too overcome to speak further.
Ryan ducked his head, embarrassed at having sounded so pathetic. He felt Sandy's hand move to his shoulder, as his guardian spoke, "You're not a monster, Ryan. Not even close. Just a seventeen year old kid, caught in a tragic situation. Without the … support, or the tools… you needed. Operating on instinct. Trying to survive."
Sandy pulled him closer, waiting until Ryan glanced up at him before finishing, "Trust me, son, on this one. Until you learn to trust yourself."
"Please, Ryan?" Kirsten echoed. "For now?"
He needed to breathe. He needed distance, to breathe… Lurching to his feet, he stammered, "I… I need time…"
He saw the concern on their faces, and sought to reassure them, "I'm okay. That is, I'll be okay…."
He saw Sandy's eyes searching his face, and quickly added, "I really want the distance this time, Sandy. Please?"
Kirsten nodded, and Sandy smiled understandingly. "Okay, Ryan. But don't stray too far, and don't stay away too long, kid."
"Or what?" Ryan asked hesitantly, "You'll come after me again?"
Sandy looked up, his mouth curled into a half-grin, "You can count on it."
Flicking his eyebrows, Ryan said softly, "Good to know…"
>>>>>>>
Grateful for the reprieve, Ryan found refuge inside the bath-house. He leaned against the mirrored wall, feeling its chilled surface against his back. He stared at the fountain, concentrating on the water as it tumbled and fell over the uneven face of the field-stone wall. Gradually, his breathing became less ragged, as threatened tears subsided. He drew in deeper breaths, exhaling loudly, until he could think again.
He allowed his back to slide down the cool plane of the mirror, until he was seated on the marble floor.
Ryan wondered if the Cohens understood the value of the gifts they had offered him so readily.
Their understanding…
Their forgiveness…
Why couldn't he simply take them?
Why not embrace the version of his actions that Sandy offered? A version he could live with…
Why not accept Sandy's vision of himself as true? Someone not yet beyond redemption.
Ryan let his head fall back against the mirror, recognizing that within his questions lay his answer.
It always came back to the same thing, since the day that he'd first met Sandy, and the man had brought him home …
The deep unanswered and ever-present 'why?'
>>>>>>>
tbc
A/N 2: Yet again, my deepest thanks to everyone who pauses to review – it's so very much appreciated. Your voices matter – I read and learn… To those of you who routinely take such time, and share such intriguing thoughts and insights, a very special thanks.