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.)
(Edited, and I think improved...)
A/N: For all of you who haven't given up on this story, my heartfelt greetings… I've been house-hunting, packing, and moving, so I haven't had much time to devote to writing these last two months. Next chapter should be the last one – maybe a short (for me!) epilogue, but we'll see.
So once again, welcome to my AU.
A/N 2: My section markers in this chapter are '7's', because I know FF won't eat them up when I post the document.
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Time: 30 minutes after end of Chapter 10, close to noon of Day 5
Kirsten tried to stop herself from the inane counting of every second.
One more second without the effect of alcohol to dull her senses. One more second in which she grew increasingly anxious about Ryan, who was still off somewhere by himself – trying to sort through everything they'd said to him – alone…
She knew all about trying to cope alone. Both the attraction, and the peril.
Don't over-react. Don't over-react. The words ran through her head like a mantra.
Three seconds each time…
She'd sought distraction. She'd supervised the staff when they'd come to refresh the food and drinks. She'd spoken very briefly to Dr. Woodruff about starting family counseling sessions, not wanting to be gone again when Ryan reappeared.
He'd read so much into her absence earlier – so much that wasn't true. But how could he know that? How could he know she wasn't going to leave him? Like he'd been left before? Was he doubting her right now? This very second?
Don't over-react. Don't over-react. Six more seconds ticked away.
She forced herself to eat another spoonful of the vanilla yogurt and raspberries she'd fixed for herself, when Sandy had insisted that she eat. She didn't want them, but she didn't want to argue with Sandy over something so unimportant. Not today. She might have to pick her battles, and breakfast would not be one of them.
But now she'd run out of things to do, and there was still no sign of the teenager returning to them. She was a little afraid the boy would retreat too far, perhaps even deciding that closing them out was preferable to opening up enough to let them in.
Kirsten looked across at her husband, who was sprawled in his chair, face turned up toward the sun and eyes closed. If she didn't know him better, she'd think he was relaxed. However, she recognized the small twitches of his fingers, and the occasional tightening of his mouth for what they were – the man's mind was working overtime, underneath that deceptive veneer of calm.
"Sandy, he's been gone for thirty minutes," she said softly, trying to keep the anxiety she was feeling out of her voice. Even as she said the words, she realized thirty minutes might not seem so long to someone else. She also recognized how hard it was to tell which of her feelings were authentic these days… the withdrawal from alcohol left her feeling anxious, too.
But this concern she felt? About her often too self-contained foster son? She was positive that this was real.
Sandy's eyes, now open wide, searched her face. Her voice had betrayed her after all – he knew her too well to be fooled. She knew him, too – knew what he was thinking. She was sure he was still worried about her – about whether she was up to this, so soon after her arrival at Suriak.
"I'm okay, Sandy," Kirsten assured him, hoping that he'd believe her, even if she wasn't quite sure she believed herself. One thing she was sure of, though – she would get through this – after all, she was Caleb Nichol's daughter… She watched as Sandy rose to his feet, his eyes narrowed.
"Are you sure, honey?" he asked, his voice low.
Determined, she insisted, "Hear me, Sandy – no way am I missing this time with Ryan – this is simply too important, for all of us."
His eyes captured hers, holding them while he seemed to look inside her, searching for the truth behind her words. He spoke softly, "He'd understand, and so would I, sweetheart. If this is too much right now…"
Kirsten frowned, hating the weakness that prompted her husband's words. She didn't want this to turn into something about her… this was supposed to be about Ryan. As much as she appreciated Sandy's sensitivity, sometimes his ability to read her was a problem. Right now, she wished he'd simply pay attention to her words, and not delve beneath them.
Heeding lessons learned from her father, she steered the topic away from herself, going on the offensive instead. This battle she would fight.
Ignoring Sandy's concern, she pressed, "Sandy, I'm worried that Ryan's been gone too long. That he's been alone too long."
She watched his face as he sorted through competing thoughts, satisfied when she saw him slowly nod. Good. They were back on track, with Sandy's attention focused once more on the teenager, rather than on her issues. Because focused on Ryan? Was absolutely where they needed to be…
Sandy joined her, moving behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. She allowed herself to lean backwards just a little, until she rested against his chest. He nuzzled her hair, as he answered quietly, "We've thrown some pretty big concepts at him, honey. He's a smart kid, but he's going to need time to process some of this. We can't expect him to simply accept what we're saying, when some of it probably feels pretty foreign to him, especially now."
She nodded, certain Sandy was right. Sandy had an insight into some of Ryan's thought processes she only wished she shared. In so many ways, his connection with Ryan was deeper than her own – the level of trust between the two of them something she often envied.
And yet, there were times she thought she might understand her foster son better than her husband did. She understood his need for silences, his tendency to keep secrets, his reticence to talk, his caution before he trusted… In some ways, he was much more like her than Sandy.
Kirsten cautioned, "I know the comfort of distance and silence, Sandy. The need, sometimes. But I also understand their danger…"
She felt his arms stiffen a little, before he asked tentatively, "Are you saying you want me to go get him?"
She turned her head back toward Sandy, as she responded, "No, Sandy – not you. I want to go this time."
She saw the surprised look on her husband's face, as she turned her body so that she faced him.
"He's my son, too," she insisted, noting the lifted eyebrows of her spouse.
"I know," he said a little sheepishly. "It's just…"
As Sandy's voice trailed off, his thoughts having obviously been edited mid-sentence, she crossed her arms and stared at him.
"It's just that you don't think I'm as comfortable talking to him as you are," she said flatly.
Her husband's eyes told her she was right, even though for once the man seemed lost for words.
She tilted her head in resignation, unfolding her arms as she spoke, "Honey, it's okay – you're not wrong." She pressed her hands against his chest as she acknowledged, "I admit, I'm not as good with Ryan as you are… but don't you see? I want to be."
Sandy reached for her hands, and held them between his own, as his eyes connected with hers. "You know how much that kid loves you, don't you? How he responds to your smallest gesture?"
She glanced down at their locked hands, before looking back into Sandy's eyes, "Trust me, Sandy, I pick up on a lot of Ryan's non-verbal language. But right now, I'm more worried about what he's been picking up from me. I've sent so many mixed messages lately, he's gotta' wonder which ones he should believe…"
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Splashing cold water against his face, Ryan contemplated going back outside where the Cohens were waiting for him. He was certain they were ready to talk again, even though he was still having trouble absorbing the stuff they'd already said this morning.
In the abstract, he could almost wrap his head around some of it. He could even admit how much he wanted to believe, to accept… their words. Words that made most of the dreams he'd ever dared harbor pale in comparison… He drifted for a moment, lost in possibility, before catching himself.
Shit. What was he doing?
He pulled himself back firmly, having learned long ago the danger of dreaming. Any time he'd ever let himself go down that road, reality had slammed its way back into his life, knocking him flat on his ass. So why should this time be an exception?
Because even if he got some of the things the Cohens said, there was still so much he didn't get. That was so far outside his own experience he couldn't really grasp it.
That's where the danger lurked, wasn't it? In all those shadowy crevices and corners created when different worlds collided. And the ill-fit between Chino and Newport? The Atwoods and the Cohens? Left room for countless shadows…
What if he got things wrong? Misunderstood what they were saying?
Could he risk taking a giant leap of faith, reaching out for what it seemed the Cohens offered? Putting his heart on the line again?
Wasn't there some point where a heart was finally mangled beyond repair?
His life was replete with pain inflicted by those he'd loved… who he'd thought were supposed to love him, too.
Like the ache he always associated with Dad, who he'd tried so hard to please, only to fail at every turn.
Or the more complicated scars that related to his mother. He tried to recall when she had become less 'Mom' and more 'Dawn', but it had happened so gradually he couldn't nail it down.
Had it been when Dawn had become the needier one at home? When she'd become so lost she couldn't find the strength to try mothering again? How much was his fault?
The stolen car two years ago had been the final straw, he supposed. With that transgression, he'd become another failure for her – obviously one more than she could handle.
Even though he believed she still loved him in her own warped way, it said something about him, didn't it? When his own mother didn't want him with her? When she'd abandoned him repeatedly?
And despite everything, she was still his mother. If she'd walk away, wouldn't anybody else?
Eventually?
He groaned, as the ebb and flow of regret and resignation washed over him. How many times could he go through it all again? The rejection? The broken promises? The pain?
Dad and Dawn – one lethal; the other bordering on pathetic. Both too hurtful for words.
He squeezed one shoulder tightly, his face contorted as he wrenched his mind away from his parents.
Avoiding his most recent trauma for a few minutes longer, he turned his thoughts instead to a 'less-related' source of heartbreak. The girls he'd actually allowed himself to care about.
Theresa. Marissa. Lindsay.
He'd been so hesitant to admit his feelings for any of them, even to himself. And what had happened when he had? Every time he'd suffered… even when no one was really at fault. And heaven only knew the pain that he'd caused them.
And now…
His hands reached out for the marble countertop, gripping the edge. He leaned heavily into his arms, as he drew in a ragged breath.
'Cause now, there was this whole thing with Trey.
This wound was the deepest of all, its edges jagged and raw, its depth and breadth littered with fragments of trust, allegiance, love, and loyalty. While their relationship had certainly been tested growing up – all too frequently cracked and bent through the years – he'd never completely given up on Trey…
Despite all their differences, somewhere in his head he'd still believed they shared some impregnable bond as brothers. He'd counted on Trey to be there for him when things really mattered. Regardless of their longstanding arguments and in spite of their recurrent fights, they had survived one hell of a lot of crap together.
It seemed that it had always, in the end, been he and Trey against the world…
Until the night when it wasn't anymore.
He'd never felt as alone as he had that night at the hospital… not knowing if Trey would live or die. Sure that regardless of Trey's fate, he'd lost his brother. Sure, because this time, he was walking away. He had to.
Because next time, they might just finish what they had started.
Already basically fatherless and motherless, as of that night, he was also brotherless.
He'd wondered sometimes which was worse – to have no family at all, or to have a family that didn't want you. Or that you didn't want – whichever… That night, he thought he finally had an answer to his question – he couldn't imagine how anything could be more painful.
He'd practically ignored Seth and Sandy at the hospital – already mentally separating himself from the foster family he assumed would kick him out… They certainly had good reason.
But they hadn't. At least, not yet. Amazingly, despite everything he'd done wrong, his foster parents were telling him they loved him.
He closed his eyes, and drew in a deeper breath, exhaling slowly. He'd lost a huge piece of his heart to them already – he knew that. That ship had sailed ages ago. But even so, until now he'd been careful to protect himself as best he could. He coached himself relentlessly – expect nothing, appreciate everything, don't disappoint, repay their kindness any way he could…
He shook his head, thinking how he'd failed them – and himself – on so damned many levels this time.
And not only had he messed things up horribly just now – he'd consistently withheld things from his foster-parents. He'd kept his secrets tucked away, not wanting to burden the Cohens with his past. Not wanting to suffer though the embarrassment and humiliation he'd felt a million times before, anytime anyone had looked too closely at his life.
Only now, Sandy and Kirsten had made it pretty clear hiding from his past was no longer an option. He'd have to face his memories, in order to move toward any future with them.
Could he do that? Trust them that much? Enough to let them see inside his world?
And even if he could, did he really have a future with the Cohens?
Seriously, how many screw-ups could he possibly have left? While Seth might forgive almost anything, Sandy must have his limits. He had to be getting pretty close to maxing out, didn't he?
And Kirsten? Who'd been so kind today? Surely, she must still have about a thousand reservations.
After all, she'd never seemed entirely at ease around him. And like him, she withheld pieces of herself, rarely letting down her guard completely. It wasn't that she was ever unkind – she wasn't. At least not if you didn't count what she'd said at her intervention, and he didn't.
She was always pleasant, always thoughtful, always generous – but also always… what?
Hesitant? No, not exactly.
What then?
Cautious.
She was almost always cautious. And that was understandable, wasn't it? Considering who she was dealing with, it made perfect sense to him.
But now, when he deserved it least, she… actually, all of the Cohens… were throwing caution to the winds as they reached out to him so powerfully.
Could he meet them halfway? Could he reach out, too?
Long seconds passed while he debated the answer to his questions. In the deepening silence his heart finally whispered 'Yes'.
Being with them was worth almost any risk…
But this time a stronger voice inside his head prevailed, not allowing him to ignore the lessons he had learned so painfully through the years.
Like Kirsten, he had to be cautious.
Very, very cautious..
After all, until he could figure out why they even wanted him, how could he be sure he wouldn't fuck this up, too? Just like he always managed to do?
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Padding through the lobby, the marble floor felt cool and smooth under his feet. The crystal water tumbling over the fieldstones murmured into the stillness, its liquid language expanding to fill the room. Thinking how grateful he had been for this oasis, Ryan turned toward the wall of water, and let its soothing sounds flow through him one last time before he went back outside.
He stood still, breathing deeply, staring at the fountain.
Catching sight of himself in the back wall of mirrors, he shook his head at what he saw.
Shit.
He was a fucking mess.
Bare feet, eyes that had already threatened betrayal more times today than he cared to think about, and freakin' pink pants. Even his t-shirt and solid blue button down looked ridiculous paired with the scrubs.
He rolled his eyes unhappily. If he showed up anywhere in Chino looking like that, he'd get his ass kicked for sure. Hell, even the Newport set would smell blood. 'Cause the fact was, Seth looked less defenseless than he did right now.
And that was just the superficial stuff…
Fuck. He hated looking so damned weak.
He took a few steps toward the mirror, eyes narrowed as he stared more intently at his reflection. One fist clenched and then slowly unclenched, as a frown passed across his face.
He straightened his shoulders and set his jaw, concentrating. He didn't have to reach very far inside, to find the darkness. He ducked his head, and drew in a deep breath, before raising his face once again, and staring down his nose at his reflection, his eyes now smoldering.
He snorted softly, as the boy in the mirror seemed far more ominous than only moments ago, pink pants notwithstanding. He shook his head slightly, not sure whether he was more troubled or relieved at his ability to do dark so easily.
He grimaced, deciding finally that this reflected image was no more real than the one that he'd created last year. And hell, the fact was he could fix his outward appearance…
What he had no idea how to fix was everything else.
Because if anyone could see inside?
Yeah, well – how he was feeling on the inside made that initial outside view look pretty good.
Because on the inside, he was still… lost.
Although maybe not as … hopeless. And wasn't that at least something?
"Ryan?"
He jumped, startled. He hadn't heard her enter the bath house. He closed his eyes, and took a breath, thinking there was a time when he would have never been taken by surprise like that… a time when any lack of vigilance could end badly. When had he stopped paying close attention to his surroundings? And had he just made another critical mistake?
Because, that sounded like fear he heard in her voice…
Opening his eyes, he glanced at her reflection in the mirror, before turning to face her. She was twisting her rings, and her brows were drawn together slightly.
"Sorry, honey. I didn't mean to scare you," she apologized when their eyes met.
She sounded nervous.
He shook his head, assuring her, "No, it was my fault. I didn't hear you come in… uh, did you… were you there long?"
She shook her head slightly, her eyes never leaving his, "Long enough."
Fuck. He bit his lip, pretty sure that he'd just scared her.
Blinking, he ducked his head.
He was a fucking master at self-sabotage, able to screw up just about anything. Even looking into a freaking mirror.
Maybe he was wrong before. Maybe he was hopeless after all…
But he'd be damned if he was going to be spineless as well. He raised his head again, and faced her, steeling himself for whatever she might say.
She spoke carefully, "Are you okay? You looked so…" her voice trailed off, as though she thought better of what she had been about to say. A frown passed across her face, as she seemed to struggle with her thoughts.
"Dark?" he finished for her, deciding there was no point in hiding. She'd seen what she'd seen.
"I was going to say 'unsettled'," she explained, her eyes cloudy.
He shrugged, not certain how to answer her. When she just stared at him, head tilted, he blinked again and swallowed. He gestured briefly at himself, saying, "It's just that… I'm not exactly at my best, okay?"
Her eyes softened, as she said quietly, "I saw the transformation you just made… going from looking like a kid who's maybe feeling a little vulnerable to someone who's more than a little intimidating."
He thought about telling her what she'd seen wasn't real, but that wasn't exactly true. Because as much as the Cohens might wish otherwise – as much as he might wish otherwise sometimes – the darkness was part of him. He'd used it in the past… to protect himself from people and things that could hurt him. That did hurt him. He'd used it to protect others from harm, too. Or at least to try protecting them. So how could he deny it? Did he even really want to?
"Sorry," he mumbled at last, not sure what else to say.
She shook her head dismissively, taking a couple of steps in his direction before stopping. She waited until he met her eyes before continuing, "You know what ran through my head as I was watching you? I was thinking… in a way, you just reminded me a little of myself. Sometimes, before one of our Newport Group events, I'd stand in front of a mirror and put on my 'game face', before dealing with people who I knew were looking for my weaknesses. Who thrived on other people's failures and anxieties. The Kirsten that I'd show them always looked confident, and completely self-assured, even if I wasn't necessarily feeling that way. I was determined they would see no weakness they could exploit. I've used the same 'game face' other times, too, like when I've felt cornered or nervous or scared."
Ryan bit back a snort at Kirsten's comparison of her game face with his. But to be fair, the Newport crowd could be intimidating – just in a different way. Not physically, but certainly psychologically. All he had to do was remember Caleb Nichol to understand that truth. So maybe she wasn't so completely off-base with her analogy.
And if any part of her cool confidence were an act, it'd been a damned good one -- he'd seen the Kirsten she described, and had believed she was everything she appeared to be. He was still pretty sure that most of what he had seen was the real deal. No one was that good of an actor, were they?
She smiled a little self-consciously, twisting her rings again, "I just wanted you to understand – I get why image can be important. That showing any weakness can feel very threatening. Or that simply appearing weak can be frustrating… I won't pretend that our situations have been the same, or that the things that threatened us were similar. It's just… I'm thinking maybe our reactions are not so far apart sometimes. That's all I'm saying."
Ryan ducked his head, wondering what he was supposed to say. He couldn't imagine anyone less like himself than Kirsten. "You'd never hurt anyone," he said, looking up uncomfortably.
"That's not true. I hurt you, at my intervention" she said simply. "And you're one of the three most important people in my life…"
He stood immobile, not really prepared for that revelation. Certainly not expecting to hear her define his place in her life quite that way. One of three? Words failed him, yet again.
"Ryan? We're going to make mistakes sometimes. All of us. But an important thing for you to remember is that you're safe with us. You don't need to hide your feelings. Whether you're happy, sad, excited, frustrated, hurt, angry, confused, whatever you're feeling – we're here for you, honey. One day, I know you'll understand that. For now, all I can do is keep telling you that it's true. And hope you'll trust me just a little, until that day comes…"
Ryan stared at the floor, noticing the veins in the marble as Kirsten spoke. Following them as they splintered and twisted across the floor, reminding him of his tangled thoughts.
Some things were not so hard to think through. Like, he did trust her – maybe even more than a little… and he felt safer with the Cohens than he ever had felt in his life – not that that was saying a lot.
But as for the rest of what she said? He'd spent his whole life trying to be who other people wanted him to be, shoving his own thoughts and feelings so far inward or to the side that he wasn't sure he could even recognize them, let alone express them – even if he wanted to…
Luckily, Kirsten didn't seem to expect a reply, as she changed topics by asking gently, "Are you ready to come back outside, honey?"
Relieved, Ryan glanced at his watch, realizing he'd been inside the bath house for over forty minutes. "Sorry. I didn't realize how long I was gone."
"It's okay, Ryan. We just wanted to make sure you were okay. This time, I told Sandy I wanted to come find you. I gotta' admit, I'm glad you weren't back out in that nasty fish-filled water, but I would have gone in there, too, for you."
"But you hate the ocean," Ryan pointed out, surprised she'd even thought about wading into it.
"True," she admitted, crossing the rest of the way to where he stood. She took his hands in hers, as she tilted her head and smiled sweetly at him, "But Ryan? That doesn't matter – what matters is that I love you."
Her voice seemed to envelop him, as did her words.
Unsteadily he searched her face, the tenderness reflected in her wide blue eyes hauntingly reminiscent of how his mother used to look at him years ago. When she'd sung to him, way back in Fresno. When he and Trey and Mom had laughed together.
Before her world had collapsed into a bottle, its dimensions growing ever smaller as the alcohol's hold grew stronger… Until finally, there was little left of Mom or Dawn for either of her sons.
He had honestly never expected to see that look again, but there it was, in Kirsten's eyes.
For him.
Incredible…
He stared at Kirsten's hands on his, summoning his courage. Saying the only words that he could think of that came anywhere near expressing what was running through his head, "It means more than I can say…your coming to find me. That is, that you wanted to. That … that you…"
He stopped, too self-conscious to continue.
She moved one hand to caress his cheek, her fingers light against his bruises, as she whispered, "Believe me, Ryan, Sandy's not the only one of us who's not about to let you go."
Ryan blinked, as her words wound themselves around his heart. He wondered briefly if there was some special hell you could be consigned to for loving another family more than you loved your own…
He drew in a deep breath, as he stared upward, avoiding her eyes for a moment. Exhaling shakily, he looked back at her, offering softly, "You're … you're one of my… three, too."
He watched as her eyes widened momentarily before her smile overtook them. He looked away, certain that he was going to lose it if she said anything to him.
She squeezed the hand she still held, and brushed back his hair, waiting until he turned his focus back to her.
When he dared to meet her eyes, they were dancing. She surprised him by asking, "So, I was wondering… am I off the hook for the scrubs?"
Relieved, he grinned, glancing down at the almost forgotten pants. "I don't know if I'd go that far… They're still pink, Kirsten."
"Salmon," she objected in mock indignation, sliding her arm around his waist, lightly urging him toward the door as she nodded her head in the same direction. "Let's go, sweetie. Sandy's waiting for us."
"Waiting's not exactly his strong suit," Ryan observed, as he fell into step beside her.
"You noticed?" Kirsten laughed, and then grew reflective once more. "You know what? For two people who aren't exactly renowned for being good communicators, we did pretty well just now, I think."
Reaching the door, Ryan moved to open it for Kirsten.
He pursed his lips, and nodded affirmatively, "We just save our words for when they count."
"And today counts…" she mused, almost to herself, as she slid past him to the outside.
He shook his head as he let the door close behind him, "Today really counts."
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Kirsten was pleased to see Ryan interested in more juice, and some cheese. The boy didn't eat nearly enough, especially compared to Seth. Weren't teenagers supposed to be ravenous? Unlike Ryan, who all too often merely pushed food around on his plate rather than eating it.
She spotted Sandy on his cell-phone, noticing the frown he wore. Leaving Ryan to finish his selections, she joined her husband just as Sandy was flipping the phone shut. His frown had deepened.
"Is anything wrong, Sandy?"
Sandy shrugged, his frown disappearing. "I'm not sure. I had a message from the ADA asking me to call her, but she's at court now, and won't be able to get back to me for a while."
Kirsten put her hand over her heart, as though she could slow its sudden throbbing. "Aren't you meeting with her late this afternoon?"
Sandy's arms wound around her, as his voice became more reassuring, "That might be why she called… at least that's what I'm hoping."
She twisted inside his embrace, so that she faced him. "You mean to cancel?"
He nodded, "No need to meet if they're not bringing charges…"
"So why the frown?"
He sighed, running one hand up and down her arm as he explained, "Sid's assistant didn't know why she called me – but then she said that Sidney had mentioned something about a warrant being issued for 'Mr. Atwood'."
Kirsten sucked in a small breath, as she felt cold hands winding around her heart. Hesitantly, she whispered, "But surely she meant for Trey? Not Ryan…"
"It's the only thing that makes sense, given Trey's confession," Sandy answered quietly.
She wished his voice sounded more confident, but maybe he was merely being cautious. After all, Ryan's future was at stake.
She nodded, stepping back. "So, I guess we wait."
Sandy grimaced, "It won't be long. She's due back from court in about an hour."
Kirsten turned toward Ryan, who looked like he had almost finished the small plate he'd fixed for himself. Looking over her shoulder at her husband, she asked softly, "Are you going to say anything to him?"
Sandy shook his head, "Not about this – not until I know something definite." He stepped up, placing one arm around her shoulders, as he smiled, "But trust me, honey, I've got plenty of other things to talk to him about."
"When do you ever not have plenty to talk about?" she mocked, laughing as he playacted being wounded. She felt lighter, somehow. Sandy could do that for her… with his words, his touch, his compassion. How could she have ever forgotten that?
"I've missed this," she whispered. "You and I united."
His arm pulled her tighter against his body, as he whispered back, "Oh, honey, so have I."
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Ryan settled back into the same chair he had occupied earlier, interested to see that Sandy and Kirsten were about to follow suit. There was something to the concept 'creatures of habit', he thought, a little amused at their predictability. Even if in the broader sense, that concept didn't bode too well for him…
"You ready, kid?" Sandy asked as he sat down.
He turned to his guardian, and said quietly, "You don't need to do this, Sandy. Don't feel like you're obligated to say anything else, okay?"
Sandy's face fell a little, before he quickly recovered. Locking eyes with Ryan, he said earnestly, "It doesn't have anything to do with obligation. I want to do this, kid."
Ryan ducked and looked away, not sure whether he'd just hurt Sandy's feelings. He hadn't meant to… he'd only wanted to let his guardian know his earlier words and actions were enough… more than he'd ever expected.
Sandy's hand covered his wrist, forcing him to look back. Seeming satisfied, Sandy removed his hand, keeping steady eye contact instead. The man's enormous brows raised and lowered affably, followed by a tiny, dimpled grin. The humor in his voice was unmistakable as he complained, "Ryan, you're killing me. I've been waiting all morning for my turn, and like it or not, kid, I refuse to be denied."
Honestly, the man was impossible. And pretty much undeniable. Ryan glanced across at Kirsten, and found her smiling.
Offering advice, she counseled, "Believe him, honey. You know Sandy's all about words, and if he can't get them out, he just might choke on them. Seriously."
She extended one graceful foot to poke Sandy in the leg. "Poor baby…" she teased.
Sandy's face seemed to light up, his dimples deepening, as he caught her foot in his hand and held it in place next to him. She laughed, the sound sweet and warm, as she nudged her toes under Sandy's thigh.
Ryan watched in fascination as they looked at one another, speaking volumes without saying anything at all. He wondered if maybe he shouldn't just leave them alone. If they'd even notice he was gone…
He stirred slightly, surprised when Sandy's hand quickly covered his wrist again, this time locking him in place.
"Not so fast, Ryan. I'm sorry. It's just…"
Ryan laughed, "It's okay, guys. It's good – it feels good, to see you two acting like…well, like you."
Sandy relaxed, releasing his wrist and settling back into his chair. "That's one of the things that makes you special, Ryan."
He rolled his eyes at the word 'special'. It apparently didn't take much to be special, he thought, as he clarified, "What? Not grossing out over your PDA?"
Sandy shook his head, waiting until Ryan looked at him to answer. "Well, that is a nice change-up from Seth's reaction, but that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking more about how it's important to you that we're happy together. You're attentive to how others feel. You notice. What they want, what they need."
Ryan felt his ears burning again. Embarrassed, he looked away, mumbling, "I usually just screw things up."
"That's not how I see it, kid. Not even close."
The conviction in Sandy's voice was unmistakable. And at the same time, given all the evidence to the contrary, unfathomable. Ryan drew in a shaky breath, cursing to himself as he felt the telltale burning in his eyes. He deliberately twisted his body, the shaft of pain from his battered ribs causing him to wince and hiss sharply. Better that than tearing up in front of them like some girl…
Fuck! He hated being so freaking fragile.
Sandy immediately reacted, "You okay, Ryan? Do you need some of your meds?"
Glad his voice didn't betray his unsteadiness, Ryan answered, "I'm fine – just moved wrong, that's all." That was the truth. Just not the whole truth.
Glancing quickly up at them, he saw Sandy and Kirsten both eyeing him before looking at one another. He saw Kirsten's head nod slightly, before Sandy turned back to him.
His guardian moved the arm resting beside his, so that his hand rested on Ryan's shoulder. "Look at me, Ryan."
He complied, biting his lip to keep his focus. Determined he'd get through the next few minutes, dignity intact.
Sandy smiled at him, the smile settling in his eyes.
Ryan tasted blood as he bit harder, ducking his head.
He felt Sandy's hand slide to the middle of his back, and the man's upper body tilt toward him. Sandy's words came in the form of questions, "Do you have any idea how much I love you? How much you mean to me, Ryan?"
How much? He was still struggling a little with 'if' and a whole damned lot with 'why'…
Hoping the questions were rhetorical, Ryan stayed silent. He didn't have an answer, and he didn't trust his voice anyway.
Sandy sighed loudly, standing up and motioning for Ryan to do the same.
Hesitantly, Ryan complied, not ready for another body hug. He figured this time he'd probably lose it, and that wasn't happening if he could help it. Especially not in front of Kirsten…
To his vast relief, Sandy merely wrapped an arm around his shoulder, explaining, "Those chairs are too confining, kid. Let's climb back up on the rocks, okay?"
Ryan shrugged. At this point, he really didn't care where they gathered. Whatever Sandy wanted to do was fine with him.
"Not without me, you don't!" Kirsten admonished, jumping up and joining them, sliding one arm around Ryan's waist extra-carefully as though she were afraid she might hurt him.
How odd, he thought, when her touch always brought such comfort.
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Perched on rocks out of the range of the salt spray, Ryan shared one large slanting bolder with Sandy, with Kirsten sitting slightly higher to the left. Sandy finally seemed comfortable, as he stretched his legs out in front of him and sighed contentedly.
Ryan swept the face of the boulder with his hands, sending some small pebbles flying across the face of the rock, and plummeting down into the rocky crevices. He leaned back against his hands, trying to relax. Sandy had settled only inches away from his position – not touching him, but well within his personal space. Sandy had a way of doing that – encroaching on his boundaries. But with Sandy, the effect was usually a feeling of intimacy, not intimidation…
As Ryan was reflecting, his guardian turned to him and said quietly, "I can't tell you why I've never said the words, Ryan. Maybe because I was afraid they'd make you uncomfortable. Make you panic or think about bolting. Maybe because I didn't think I'd earned the right to say them… I know you have your own family. That you had a life before you came to stay with us, and that I need to respect that."
Ryan gathered several loose stones in one hand, turning them over and over as he thought about the family Sandy worried about respecting. He crunched the stones harder against one another as he thought about the life that he had lived before the Cohens took him in…
"Ryan?"
Realizing he'd zoned out a bit, he tossed the pebbles away, and rubbed his palm on the scrubs, leaving a trail of dirt. Feeling Sandy's eyes focused on him, he looked up at his guardian. "You don't owe me any explanations… I get why you feel like you do. About respecting families, I mean. Your family, anyway."
Sandy reached out, placing a hand at the back of his neck, and touching his face with his thumb. Ryan froze, as Sandy's eyes bored into his own.
His guardian corrected him softly, "Not my family. Our family, Ryan."
He nodded, averting his eyes. Staring at Sandy's elbow, willing himself to keep it together.
He felt Sandy's hand drop to his shoulder, squeezing carefully until he looked back up. Sandy's expression was tender as he pressed further, "I just want you to understand – I'd never ask you to choose one family or the other. I'm just saying, we're your family, too."
Looking quickly across at Kirsten, Ryan found her eyes. She shook her head slightly from side to side, answering his unspoken question. She hadn't said anything to Sandy about their conversation in the bath house.
Ryan lowered his head, focusing on the flaw in Sandy's thinking. Choose? Not exactly an issue, was it? Because his family had already chosen… and he hadn't made their cut.
He felt Sandy's grip on his shoulder grow tighter, as the man leaned closer toward him. Ryan looked up, finding his foster-father's deep blue eyes level with his own.
His guardian's voice actually cracked a little as he spoke, "Kid, it's like this – I couldn't love you any more if you were my biological child. The simple fact is, you are mine where it matters most, Ryan."
Sandy's other hand rose to his chest, as the man whispered, "You're here, inside my heart."
Ryan stared into his foster father's eyes, transfixed. He was almost afraid to move, in case he'd wake up and find that this was all just some amazing dream. It almost had to be, didn't it? If something's too good…
He could barely breath, he wanted this so badly… for Sandy's words to be true. He'd never wanted anything as much in his life.
Slowly, he started to duck, but his guardian's hand cupped his neck again, forcing his head back up. Staring straight into his eyes, Sandy finished his thought, "This much I know, Ryan – I've got two sons now, and I love you each more than life."
As Sandy dropped his hand back down to rest upon his shoulder, Ryan closed his eyes tightly for a moment, willing himself to breathe. He didn't trust his voice enough to speak, even if he could have come up with words that expressed anything close to how he felt.
In the ensuing silence, he heard Kirsten sniffing. Glancing across, he saw a tear she hadn't managed to catch tumbling down her cheek, before she wiped it away with her fingers. She smiled crookedly as she admitted, "I'm such a girl…"
Ryan's throat burned, and his eyes stung. He was more than a little afraid he was going to go the 'girl' route, too.
"Let's take a second, kid", his guardian suggested, much to his relief. Sandy's hand fell away, breaking the physical connection. Giving Ryan a little needed space.
"'Kay," he mumbled, before drawing his legs up and silently collapsing his head onto his knees, his eyes pressed against the salmon cloth. He was glad that the fabric didn't seem to show when it got wet, because it had just saved him from imitating Kirsten. Glancing surreptitiously sideways at Sandy, he noticed his foster father swiping quickly at his eyes, too.
Shit. They were in the middle of some freakin' cry-along… What was next? Kum ba yah?
And yet, these tears couldn't have felt more different from the ones he'd associated with 'family' all his life. He snorted softly – ironic, wasn't it? To be so far from pain and still be crying…
When he raised his head, Sandy smiled. "You okay?"
"Yeah." He couldn't help smirking a little as he challenged, "You?"
Sandy grinned, "Are you mocking me, kid?" Feigning indignation, his guardian warned, "Well, don't think for a second that you're gonna' keep me from finishing what I started."
Ryan tilted his head, frowning while he scoffed, "As if I could…"
Sandy stared at him a beat before smiling, "You know, sometimes I have a hard time remembering what life was even like before you joined us."
Ryan looked away, remembering all too clearly.
"Son?"
There was that word again. Did Sandy even realize he was using it?
"Ryan?" Sandy's voice was more insistent, demanding his attention.
Dragging himself back from his reflections, Ryan acknowledged his foster father, "You were saying?"
Sandy's voice had a careful edge to it this time, "Seth told us something last night we hadn't realized before, kid. He said originally you weren't planning on coming back to us last summer, after Theresa lost the baby. That he didn't think you would have come back, if he hadn't."
Ryan made a note to talk to Seth about that little revelation. Not that it wasn't true, but Seth really needed to learn to keep his mouth shut sometimes. He looked out across the Pacific, trying to buy a few seconds while he figured out how to answer.
Kirsten broke the silence, "Independent of your relationship with Seth, we want you with us, Ryan. You're more than Seth's friend, sweetie. You're part of this family, all on your own. If we haven't made that clear to you in the past, we will going forward."
Ryan ducked his head, as he admitted softly, "It wasn't like I didn't want to come back, you know… "
He felt Sandy's weight press against him, as the man leaned into him before speaking, "But you didn't feel comfortable coming back without Seth, did you?"
Swallowing, he opened his mouth, but didn't speak. He shrugged instead, not really sure how else to answer.
Sandy straightened, sighing. "I can't blame you, kid, for wondering. For doubting us, after we let you leave last summer. I know it must have felt like we didn't put up much of a fight… Once you made the decision to go, we didn't stand in your way."
Ryan looked up in surprise. He hadn't expected this topic to come up again. He'd gotten past it, hadn't he? More important, hadn't they?
Sandy raked one hand through his unruly raven locks, shoving the hair briefly off his forehead, before he offered, "Over the last couple of days, I've been thinking a lot about last summer, when you went back to Chino. How I let you leave then. But Ryan, I only let you go because I was afraid to stop you. Afraid that if I said 'no', like I wanted to, you'd leave anyway, and we'd end up losing you for good."
"Losing me?" he repeated dumbly, thinking how nearly he'd come to losing them back then. How he'd made assumptions at the time, built around their giving him permission to leave so readily, and around Seth's angry flight. Assumptions which had led him to turn away from almost all the vestiges of his life with them.
Until the cosmos had conspired to rearrange his life another time. Sandy's plea for help, Theresa's failed pregnancy, and Seth's decision to go home had all intersected, somehow leading him back to Newport and the Cohens.
Ryan's focus was pulled back to the present, as Sandy placed his arm around Ryan's shoulders, leaning into him. His foster father's voice deepened, "When you left last summer, I was hoping we'd be able to convince you to come back, once the shock of everything had worn off. Once we'd all had time to look at other options."
Ryan grimaced before responding softly, "Theresa's baby wasn't ever gonna' be your responsibility. I couldn't do that." He flicked his eyes across at Sandy, "Let you take that on…"
He felt Sandy's arm tighten slightly, as his foster father countered, "I understand why you'd think that, but I'm telling you, we would have made something work. You see, we learned something important when you left, Ryan. Not only did we miss your being with us, we also realized how …incomplete… our family was without you."
Ryan blinked, as Sandy's words penetrated his defenses. Could it have really been that simple? Their reason for not resisting his leaving? Because as much as he'd tried to deny his feelings, it had hurt – their letting him go so easily last year.
He glanced at Kirsten, who smiled sweetly. "Listen to Sandy, honey. Neither of us wanted you to go, but we were both too afraid to try to make you stay. We didn't want to fight with you – in the end, we figured you'd probably go anyway, without our okay. So, better you left with our permission, so we could keep all the doors between us wide open, than if you left angrily. We were so afraid you'd slam all those doors shut… permanently…. behind you."
Ryan pressed his lips together and raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement, not sure what to say. Sure he should say something…
His eyes sought Sandy's, and then Kirsten's, as he stammered, "I never thought… I didn't know… I just…" He stopped, and shook his head, wishing he had half of Seth's facility with words. He felt so damned obtuse sometimes, when he couldn't voice his thoughts.
Watching as Kirsten sent a troubled glance toward Sandy, he hastily tried again, his voice sounding a little like it had been rubbed with sandpaper, "Thanks. For explaining why you didn't try to stop me. I... It means a lot, okay?"
He felt Sandy's hand rub across his back, "We wanted to make sure you understood. That last summer didn't color your impression of how very much you're wanted, son."
Ryan pressed his lips inward, as he nodded that he'd heard. He tilted his head back and sucked in his breath, before attempting to speak again. His voice wavered as he hedged, "I hear what you're saying, okay?"
Kirsten edged toward him, as she warned gently, "Better get used to hearing how much we love you, Ryan. How important you are to us…"
She waited until he looked at her, her eyes embracing him, before she finished her thought, "How ours you are."
He closed his eyes tightly, as he felt her voice. Ducking his head, he focused on the scrubs, tracing the trail of dirt he'd smeared across them with his forefinger.
Steeling himself, he offered hesitantly, "I probably won't get this right, but guys? If… if I could have anyone in the world as my parents? I'd want you…"
He lifted his eyes when he felt Sandy squeeze his shoulder once again. Two sets of eyes were trained on him, their expressions eerily the same. Kirsten sniffed and smiled warmly, before answering, "That works perfectly, Ryan. Because you've got us… right where we want you…"
Sandy grinned, "Or vice-versa. Take your pick. Either way, you just made my day, kid. Maybe my year…" His guardian's hug was so enthusiastic it took him by surprise.
Sandy loosened his grip a little as he added, "And you just reminded me of another thing I'd like to talk about – actually two things – related to your turning eighteen this year. I have to fill you in on a conversation I had with Child Services – don't worry – they're pissed with me, but it's all gonna' work out. And I wanna' talk about some legal options we'll have – that we want you to think about – when you reach eighteen. But let's save those topics for a little later, okay?"
Ryan nodded hesitantly, wondering how many more topics they had to cover. Good thing Sandy had a meeting this afternoon, or they might be here all night…
Sandy's face took on a serious expression, as he leaned in closer. Ryan wrapped his arms around his knees, anchoring himself for the next onslaught of words, although he couldn't imagine what else his guardian could possibly have to tell him. He stared at the Pacific, looking sideways as Sandy prepared to speak again.
He felt the man's weight pressing into him, as Sandy's head tilted toward his. His foster father's voice was steady, but he didn't hide his emotion as he spoke, "How I feel about you? Just to clarify, Ryan – it's not based on your behavior, or your friendship with Seth."
Sandy placed a hand against his back, as he continued speaking, "I'm committed to you because in every way that matters to me, you're my child."
Ryan gripped his knees tighter, as Sandy's hand moved to his shoulder.
Now the voice that spoke to him grew even more serious, "So, hold on to these truths, kid – the big ones. First, I accept you for who you are. And if you're worried you don't know who that is right now, trust us to know. Until you figure it out for yourself. We'll help you. You don't ever have to be anyone else, Ryan. You don't have to pretend."
Ryan drew in a deep breath, as he saw Sandy's eyes hunting for his own. He averted his eyes, wondering what would happen if he just keep staring straight ahead. He really needed at least that much space…
His answer came when Sandy continued speaking, his words barely above a whisper, "Second, I'll always love you. Today. Tomorrow. Next week. Next year. Forever. Unconditionally."
This time his foster father didn't pause, "Third, I will always be concerned about your happiness and well-being, and I'll do everything in my power to provide for you and to protect you. You may not always like what that means – like the therapy we talked about – or saying 'no' sometimes – but going forward, I'm going to make sure you have what you need, even if it's not always want you want. I'm looking at your long-term happiness, kid. And when we start thinking long-term, you'll find that not every transitory pleasure is worth the price tag."
As his guardian grew silent, Ryan sorted through the 'truths', wondering how he could hold onto stuff that big.
He felt Sandy's hand squeezing his shoulder, as the man asked gently, "Ryan, I'd really like for you to look at me. Please?"
He turned his face toward his guardian, meeting his guardian's eyes with his own. Ryan felt the impact of each word, as Sandy continued softly, "I want you to understand this, son. This promise." His voice grew more insistent, "I will never desert you. No matter what, Ryan. You're my kid. I'm your father. And nothing in this world's ever gonna' change that."
Ryan felt locked in Sandy's gaze for a long moment, before he ducked his head, his mind churning.
He swallowed hard, knowing he had to ask the questions he'd avoided for so long, even though any answer he might remotely want to hear eluded him…
His voice was thick, as he fought to shape the words.
"But why, Sandy? I mean, even if I come anywhere close to understanding what you're saying, I honestly don't get… the why."
"Why?" his foster-father repeated, his voice registering some element of surprise.
Ryan nodded, hoping Sandy read him, like all those times before. That he would somehow understand what Ryan couldn't say. He mouthed only one word, "Please…"
You're asking me why I love you?" Sandy asked softly, his eyebrows gathering.
Ryan shook his head, as he clarified, "Why me?"
Sandy's eyes searched his face again, obviously seeking information than Ryan had not given. His eyes were soft, as he nodded his head knowingly, "You're finally asking, aren't you? The original questions… Why I brought you home…" His voice trailed off, inviting Ryan to respond.
"Why you let me stay…" he offered in return, before his throat closed up.
Sandy's voice was gentle, "It's okay, Ryan. I think I can take it from here."
Scooting closer, Kirsten modified Sandy's words, "We can take it from here…"
Ryan saw the apologetic glance his foster father sent her way, and her forgiving nod. She'd surprised him yet again – unlike so often in the past, she wasn't letting Sandy deal with him alone this time. She'd made it clear today that she was in this, too.
That said something, didn't it? Something hopeful?
All the more reason not to fuck this up…
He heard Sandy clear his throat softly, and turned to face him. "There are so many answers, Ryan, to what you're asking. You impressed me, that first day. You had to have been terrified, but your first concern was Trey…"
Ryan protested automatically, "But he's my…" He stopped, caught in current reality. Wrapping his arms around his midsection and scanning the horizon, he finished uncomfortably, "That is, he was my brother."
Sandy sat silent for a moment, before he said carefully, "One day, Ryan, he will be again. It's gonna' take time, but I believe that it'll happen. And we'll be close beside you when it does."
Unwrapping his arms, Ryan nodded, before insisting, "That's… that's a different conversation, Sandy."
Sandy raised his eyebrows slightly, before acknowledging, "Yeah, you're right. It is…" He swiped his hair back off his face, as he continued, "You do that a lot, though. Think of others first. It's part of who you are. As for other things? That first day? Your test scores blew me away, kid. And that little spiel you concocted about longevity and social security? Told me your reasoning skills matched your IQ. The fact is, you reminded me… well, of me."
Ryan snorted a little, remembering his first impression of the shaggy-looking public defender. Shaking his head, he countered, "Yeah, well – I've always had a knack for smart-mouthing – usually to the wrong people."
Kirsten covered her mouth with one hand, hiding an indulgent smile. "So has Sandy," she pointed out, her eyes sparkling.
Sandy confirmed, "See? That's what I'm saying…"
"Cut from the same deck…" Ryan mused.
His foster father drew back, obviously surprised. "You remember that?" he asked.
Ducking his head, Ryan confessed, "I remember pretty much everything from that day…"
He heard Kirsten draw in her breath loudly.
Shit! What had he been thinking?
He could practically hear the guilt in her voice as she spoke. "There are some things I kinda' wish you could forget. I mean… I know I wasn't very… receptive … at first. But Ryan – that all changed after I spent time with you."
He caught her eyes, wincing when he saw how unsettled they looked. Choosing his words he sought to reassure her, "Please, Kirsten – it's okay. Really. I liked that you were so protective of your family. You didn't know me – I was just some kid from juvie that Sandy let loose in your house. Your pool house, I mean. I thought you were awesome… that is, that you'd kick out anyone who you believed might hurt your son."
Kirsten actually blushed a little as she stammered, "You did? You thought I was awesome?"
"Definitely," he answered, pleased to see a new smile form and spread into her eyes. He felt his own color rise a little as he added softly, "You still are."
She tilted her head, pressing her hands against her heart, as though she had captured his words there. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to – her eyes spoke for her.
After a moment, she raised her eyebrows and looked across at Sandy. "Did you hear that, honey? Our son thinks I'm awesome…"
"Like I said, he reminds me a lot of me"
Ryan rolled his eyes. "And that's a good thing?" he deadpanned.
Sandy grinned, as his eyebrows shot up. "No, it's not." He slapped his hands against his thighs as he countered, "That's a great thing, my friend. What I'm saying is this: Razor-sharp intellect. An avid aversion to plastic people with entirely too much money and far too few ethics. Resilient, in the face of adversity. And a keen appreciation of how… awesome… Kirsten and Seth are."
Ryan grinned back a little, "When you put it like that… I see the resemblance."
Sandy smiled affectionately, before his face became more somber, "Seriously, Ryan – that was the main reason I brought you home that first night. I'd been where you were once, and someone helped me. When I spoke to you that day, I saw myself."
Ryan flicked his eyebrows up, as he confessed, "I thought you just felt sorry for me. I kinda' hated that… I mean, I was grateful. I am grateful, but…"
Sandy stopped him, stepping on his sentence, "I know, Ryan. And you're not entirely wrong. After seeing Dawn, I worried about whether you'd make it. Whether you had any real prospects in what looked like might be a pretty toxic environment… I was really glad you called me that day. That you gave me the opportunity to give a good kid a second chance."
Biting his lip, he acknowledged Sandy's words, "I… I guess I get that. Sort of the 'pay it forward' idea, right?"
"Yeah, you could say that. That's a big part of what was running through my head back then. Although someone less generous could have argued it was something a self-righteous do-gooder might do to ease his conscious. You know -- make amends for living so obscenely large while so many others suffered."
Ryan nodded, thinking he could live with either rationale. They both were so much better than the 'pity' card he despised.
"And you let me stay because…?" he prodded softly. "Because of Seth, right?"
Sandy's lips tightened, as he shook his head, "Initially, yes, in large part. I won't mislead you – the fact that you two bonded so well was important at first. It was amazing, watching the transformation your friendship brought about. My sullen, broody, anti-social son became involved in life outside his room. He schemed, he plotted, he went to parties, he scammed his parents, he had two girlfriends at the same time – in other words, he turned into a teenager. You can't imagine how happy that made me." He glanced at Kirsten, amending, "Made us."
Kirsten spoke, "But Ryan, the longer you stayed with us, the deeper our feelings for you grew. By our first Chrismukkah…" She stopped, and smiled, "Remember the day you hung up your stocking? I knew then you'd become part of this family."
Ryan smiled to himself, as he recalled that day, too. How included he'd felt, in all the Cohen holiday madness.
Sandy's voice brought him back, as the man slid a hand across his back, "The honest answer to your questions? Why we love you? Why we want you with us? It's this simple, Ryan – it's because of who you are, son."
Ryan waited for the rest of his guardian's answer, finally realizing nothing more was coming.
He shook his head, completely baffled.
Where were all of Sandy's words? When he really needed to hear them?
Who he was?
What kind of non-answer answer was that?
'Cause he knew exactly who he was…
Frustrated, he ducked his head and whispered, "But Sandy, I'm… I'm nobody."
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tbc
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A/N3: Once more, many thanks to everyone who takes their time to review – it's deeply appreciated. Your voices count – I listen… To those of you who have been so loyal to this story, and who've shared pieces of yourself, or given me such interesting viewpoints and concepts to think about, thanks so very much.