A/N: Here we go again! I'm all geared up for some serious Cohen comfort now that Ryan has to start the pains of chemotherapy. Everyone is dealing in their own way, some better than others…who won't be able to cope? Or is the question more like who will be able to cope? You'll just have to wait and see…as for my reviewers, I worship you. The more detail you go into about what you like or whatever just…makes me beam and sit down to write. You're all so great, but Beachtree, you especially. You so rock. AHH I LUV YOU! You make me burst with happiness…it's a disease really. Oh dear, I'm rambling. I've become Seth. Oh crap, not again…

FADING – Chapter Eight

Monday Morning

The wall had cracks in it. Long, thin, wiry ones that started at the baseboards and wound their way up to the wall. They were so small and hard to see with the naked eye that Ryan was sure he had to be the first one to ever spot them. Probably from water damage, he concluded, seeing the tell-tale signs of the slightly cracked paint. Inevitably that wall would have to be knocked down, he realized, but at the moment telling the nursing staff of the hospital about a costly wall replacement project seemed like the least intelligent thing to do.

From his position on his side, knees curled up to his chest as the doctor poked and prodded at his back, Ryan locked his eyes onto that stark white, boring-as-watching-grass-grow wall. Anything had to be better than waiting for the sting of a needle as it jabbed its way in between his vertebrae.

Kirsten reached for his hand and squeezed. "Just don't think about it, Ryan." She said soothingly. She got off her chair and knelt on the ground so that her head was aligned with his, her eyes boring into his, full of concern. "Concentrate on something else."

Ryan wanted to tell her that as exciting as diagnosing cracks in a wall had turned out to be, it wasn't working out to be that great of a distraction. He found himself tensing up, his hands clenching into fists unconsciously, his teeth ground together hard, anticipating the first stab of a needle.

There was a sigh from behind him. "Ryan, I told you. I'm not going to be able to see where I have to put the needle if your muscles are tensed." It was the doctor's voice. Dr… something. All Ryan could remember was that it was the name of a beer. "Just relax, son. It'll be over soon."

"Easy for you to say…" Ryan grumbled under his breath.

"What was that?" the doctor asked suspiciously.

Struggling not to laugh, Kirsten jumped in. "Ryan said 'he's having a bad day', Dr. Sleeman." Then she gave Ryan a stern look, but a laugh twinkled in her eyes. Sometimes she found it impossible to be mad a Ryan Atwood. It had to be his eyes; they melted her.

Nodding to himself Ryan rolled his eyes. Right. He was being injected with a giant needle and the guy holding it looked like Dougie Howser and was named after a crappy beer. Just his luck.

"Okay. I'm going to do the first one, Ryan. Take a deep breath." The doctor announced, cold, latex-covered fingers touching the top of Ryan's spine. Doing as instructed, Ryan squeezed Kirsten's hand and shut his eyes. "Now let it out slowly." The doctor said next.

As he exhaled Ryan immediately felt the burn and sting of a needle enter his back sending pain flaring through his shoulders and neck. Instantly his hand gripped Kirsten's tighter as the breath left him in a rush and he gasped in pain. "It's okay, sweetie. It'll be over soon." Kirsten whispered in his ear, her free hand running it's slender fingers through his hair. "You're doing wonderfully, Ryan. It's almost over."

Icy stabs of pain poured across his bare back like pins and needles and he barely felt the needle being removed. The medicine left him numb, the pain receding to a dull ache as his muscles relaxed and he slumped on the bed, panting in a cold sweat.

Kirsten started talking to him soothingly, her words fading in and out as Ryan's heartbeat began to hammer in his ears. Suddenly overcome with exhaustion, Ryan's heavy eyelids closed and he breathed deeply, willing himself to calm down. After all, he did have two more of these to sit through. Two more…

Suddenly the feeling of ice cold water being wiped gently across his face brought him out of his doze with a gasp, his arms and legs flailing in surprise.

"Calm down, sweetheart. You're okay." It was Kirsten's voice, but she sounded different…worried, even scared. "Sorry to wake you like that. I thought it would make you feel better." She apologized.

Ryan struggled to open his eyes and found that he was no longer lying on his side, and Dr. Coors Light or whatever his name was no longer in the room. Kirsten sat in her usual place at his bedside, a washcloth in her hand. "Wh…what happened?" Ryan asked wearily, shivering slightly. The room felt cold and his body felt numb. "Aren't they gonna do the other two shots?"

Her brows knit together worriedly, but Kirsten smiled. "Honey, you zoned out after the first one. Dr. Sleeman finished the other two injections and started your chemo through the IV before he left." She said gently, gesturing to his hand. When Ryan looked down, sure enough he had a needle taped into the back of his hand and a drip connected to a bag containing a cocktail of drugs. "You were pretty out of it…that first one was really bad, huh?" She soothed, her hand stroking his forearm.

Ryan tried to remember how the first injection had felt, and was suddenly overwhelmed with an overload of sensations; a numbing pain seared across his back and neck, jabbing into the base of his skull. His mouth was so dry that it hurt, his tongue and gums stinging with pain. A chill ran through him so deep that he felt his bones rattle when he shivered, pain shooting through his entire body. Every muscle and joint seemed to scream in protest as he lay immobile, exhaustion weighing his limbs down to the bed.

Unable to bite back a whimper of pain, Ryan squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away. But Kirsten was at his side in a heartbeat, sitting on the edge of the bed as she wove her fingers gently through his sandy blonde hair, her feather soft touch the only sensation that felt good.

"Oh, sweetie." She whispered sadly, rocking him as gently as she could. The pain etched deeply in his face told her enough; the doctors had warned her about the intense sensitivity most patients have after the spinal injections. Kirsten just hadn't thought that it would be this bad. "Just take deep breaths, Ryan. Everything will be okay. Deep breaths." Her hand reached blindly for the call button and she asked the nurse to get Dr. Collins.

Ryan swallowed hard, the feeling of discomfort so intense that he shuddered, the room tilting slightly as he struggled to take in slow, deep breaths like Kirsten told him. But black spots were beginning to cloud over his vision.

The door swung open and a more familiar face appeared at the bed. Dr. Collins placed a firm hand on Ryan's shoulder and locked onto his gaze, holding it with his own serious, concerned eyes. "Ryan, you're hyperventilating. Breath slowly in…and out…come on, slow it down." He repeated like a mantra, and Ryan felt himself begin to comply. "That's it. In….out. Good."

The panic that had welled in his chest began to clear, and the spots disappeared from his vision. Feeling somewhat more relaxed, Ryan sighed and went limp in Kirsten's arms. "I'm…fine now." He said exhaustedly as Kirsten pushed sweat-dampened locks out of his eyes.

"I guess that was a sensory overload for a minute, huh?" Dr. Collins said gently, writing a few things down on his clipboard. "I'm prescribing you a painkiller for the chemo. It'll likely do a number on your back, and the headaches you've been having will probably be more frequent and intense. All we can do is give you something to help manage the pain. I'll give your parents a more detail itinerary of your meds when you leave."

Ryan looked up hopefully. "I can go home?" He asked with as much excitement as he could muster. As the seconds ticked by his eyelids were becoming heavier and heavier, the pain in his body fading into the background as a cold numbness wrapped around his body like a heavy blanket.

Dr. Collins smiled. "Do you want to?"

Ryan nodded vigorously.

"Well, we'll finish your first round of chemo, Ryan. Then depending on how you are immediately afterwards, I'll bring up some release forms." Ryan smiled happily, his eyes drifting closed as he lay back in Kirsten's arms. She was so warm…

Kirsten smiled at the doctor. "Thank you." She said softly, her fingers carding through Ryan's hair as he fell asleep. She frowned as she felt him shivering against her. Placing a hand on his cheek, her frown deepened. "He's cold."

Reaching for one of Ryan's hands to see for himself, Dr. Collins nodded and scribbled more notes down. "It's another common side affect, Mrs. Cohen. It's a real shock to the system when the drugs come in and start immediately killing cells. We just have to make sure to keep him warm and comfortable while he recovers after each session."

"And how long can that take?" Kirsten asked in dismay. She wished Sandy was with her. She needed him to be beside her, telling her that everything would be okay. Kirsten had sent him and Seth home late last night and they still hadn't returned. "I don't really remember…what it was like…my mother." She stammered. "I imagine this will be worse?" She asked sadly.

"It's anyone's guess, Mrs. Cohen. Ryan's a fighter, so he shouldn't stay all the way down for longer than a week between sessions…but then again, I'm going to have him back within the week, so…I won't lie, it's going to be rough for the first couple of months." He explained, his eyes warm and full of remorse. Removing his glasses, he looked at Kirsten sympathetically. "I know you've said that you're against it, but you really should consider getting some help with Ryan's care. He's going to be very sick, Kirsten. You need to understand that."

As Kirsten absorbed his words, Ryan moaned in his sleep and curled up against her, unconsciously seeking warmth. As she wrapped her arms around him and stared down at his peaceful face, Kirsten knew: There was no way she would allow a stranger to take care of her son. It would take an army to keep her from Ryan's side every step of the way through this illness. She wasn't going anywhere. Neither was he.

Looking up, Kirsten shook her head with confidence. "No thank you." She said firmly. "Ryan belongs at home with his family. We're going to take care of him."

Although he still looked reluctant, Dr. Collins smiled at her and respect shined clearly in his eyes. "You've got balls, Mrs. Cohen. I'll give you that." He chuckled as he stood up to leave the room. "I'll come by in about…oh, half an hour to disconnect Ryan's IV. It's going to really knock him out, so just let him sleep. He's going to be feeling like hell when he wakes up." With that he said his goodbye and left the room.

Silence filled the room as Kirsten listened to Ryan's quiet breathing. When she looked down at has face, her throat grew tight and tears stung her eyes. His features were slack and peaceful but pain lined the corners of his eyes, his mouth frowning slightly. He was very pale, and even though it had already been explained to her that it was normal for severe anemia to cause a lack of color in the face, her stomach still sunk with worry. He looked sick. But then she was reminded of the fact that he was sick; very sick.

Asleep he looked even younger than his sixteen years. He really was just a child. He was her child, and he had cancer. She was his mother; she was supposed to protect him from everything. Somehow, she had failed him.

As tears trailed down her cheeks, Kirsten hugged him closer and lowered her head to kiss his crown. "I'm going to take care of you." She whispered her promise in his ear. "I swear to you. You're going to get better, sweetheart. Nothing less is acceptable and I know you'd never want to disappoint me. So don't start now. I'm going to get you well. I love you so much, Ryan. I won't lose you, not ever."

And the silence that met her was deafening.


Kirsten was roused from a light doze she hadn't remembered taking when a voice at the door startled her awake. "Knock, knock." Seth said as he walked slowly into the room, his eyes studying his sleeping friend. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Seth shook his head. "Man…he looks beat."

Untangling her arms from around Ryan's shoulders as gently as she could, Kirsten stretched and yawned. "He just finished his first round of chemo…it hit him pretty hard."

Seth watched as his mother straightened Ryan's blankets. There was the unmistakable evidence of tears in her red, puffy eyes. Kirsten Cohen looked drained, both physically and emotionally. Seth sat down beside her. "You okay?" He asked gently.

"Yeah." Kirsten said after a moment. Momentarily stopping to fix her hair and wipe at any smudges of makeup, Kirsten sighed. "I mean, I'm not, but…I will be. Where's your dad?"

At that Seth rolled his eyes and shrugged. "I got up this morning and there was a note in the kitchen saying he had to go into the office." He said, slightly distracted as he found a stray comic book at the end of the bed that he had brought Ryan from home the night before and began flipping through it. "Some Newpsie no doubt got a clog in their hot tub or someone's hedges are just not up to code. You know…the usual scandals. He said he just had to go in. It must have been terribly important." He said sarcastically.

A frown creased Kirsten's face as she listened to her son speak. Why would Sandy go into work on the day that his son was receiving his first treatment of chemotherapy? They had both agreed to take some time off for a while, at the very least until things had more or less calmed down with the hospital drama. Kirsten sighed. "What is going on with your father?" She asked without meaning to vocalize her comment.

"Who knows? He's been on edge for the last few days. Maybe he misplaced his eyebrow comb or something else traumatizing." He said, disinterested. But after a few moments of silence he looked up from the comic and noticed his mother staring off into space, her expression worried. He reached for her hand. "You know, I'm sure it's nothing. Just…" He trailed off and gestured to Ryan, fast asleep in the hospital bed.

Kirsten nodded. He didn't need to explain. Smiling at her son, Kirsten gently touched his hair, her need to mother someone unable to resist. "When did you get to be so smart?"

Seth grimaced. "Mother, my Jew fro." He whined petulantly.

A small, raspy voice spoke up from the bed. "Don't bother, Kirsten." Ryan croaked with a ghost of a smile. "It's indestructible…I've tried."

Kirsten and Seth smiled at his response, covering both sides of the bed as they looked down at him. "Mother, I do believe Ryan just made a joke. He really must be sick." Seth said, pretending to be aghast. "Welcome back to the land of the living, buddy."

"How do you feel, sweetheart?" Kirsten asked as she caressed his cheek.

Ryan cleared his throat. "Weird. My mouth really hurts. Could I have some water?" He asked, and watched as Seth poured him a glass from a pitcher beside the bed. Drinking eagerly from the straw, he allowed his foster brother to take the cup from him after a few minutes, his energy drained from the small task. He closed his eyes. "How long have I been asleep? Is it…over?"

Kirsten nodded. "You made it through the first round, honey. And you did so well." She smoothed back his hair. "It's two in the afternoon. Dr. Collins will come by soon and see if we can get that release signed." She told him happily.

Seth grinned broadly. "You hear that, Ry? You're gonna be sprung." He patted his brother's shoulder. "You're looking a little rough around the edges, but otherwise no worse for wear. I'd say this isn't so bad after all." He smiled at his mom and Ryan.

"Yeah." Ryan nodded weakly, his eyes still closed. "I'm just really…really tired. But otherwise it's not…so bad…" His voice began to fade as sleep crept up on him again.

"Sweet dreams, buddy." Seth said softly, smiling at how quickly Ryan had dozed off again.

Kirsten watched her two sons with a sad smile. She didn't have the heart to tell either one of them that this was just the beginning. She wasn't strong enough to tell them that Ryan was currently on such a high amount of painkillers so that the stabbing ache in his back would be numbed the first time he woke up. She didn't explain how Dr. Collins had said that Ryan wouldn't feel the full effects of the chemo until a couple hours later, when he would be plagued with dizziness, nausea, exhaustion, muscle soreness, fever, and God knows what else.

She wished Sandy was there.


Walking through the front doors of his house, Sandy put down his briefcase and marveled at the silence. Looking around the empty living room, down the hall to the silent kitchen, and everywhere in between his heart sank in his chest. This didn't feel like home.

With a sigh he trudged up the stairs to the master bedroom, loosening his tie. On the way down the hall he peeked into Seth's room, even though he knew the boy wouldn't be there. The Range Rover hadn't been in the drive way when he had arrived. He knew that his son had gone to the hospital to be with Ryan and Kirsten, where he should be.

Where he wanted to be. Badly.

After taking a long, hot shower and changing into a more comfortable outfit, Sandy slowly walked through the house to the back doors of the kitchen. He took in the late afternoon Californian sun as it beaded down on the infinity pool, the ripples in the water dancing across the windows of the pool house.

Ryan's pool house.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Sandy closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the sun shine down on his face. He didn't want to look at the pool house. It would just remind him of the fact that Ryan wasn't inside; that Ryan wouldn't come out with his usual small smile and polite morning greeting, as if he still was nothing more than a guest in their house. They wouldn't gather in the kitchen and eat breakfast together, he wouldn't smile happily as he listened to Ryan and Seth's morning banter. Because Ryan was in the hospital.

Ryan was sick with cancer.

Willing the ache in his chest to go away, Sandy exhaled deeply and forced his feet to move as he propelled himself towards the French doors of the pool house. He didn't know how long he stood outside, his hand resting on the cool silver of the handle. But finally he took a deep breath and turned the knob, walking inside.

It looked the way it always did, and yet the room felt entirely different. Ryan's bed was impeccably made, The desk in the corner clean and bare. Walking to the shelves against the wall, Sandy looked at the neat rows of Ryan's clothes, folded perfectly and separated into categories. Everything was the same as it always was. But at the same time, something heavy and very sad hung in the air around the room that left Sandy cold.

Reminding himself of the task he had decided to take on, Sandy began meticulously taking articles of clothing and piling them onto the bed. He and Kirsten had decided that Ryan would be better off in the guest room in the main house where he would be close by, where they could keep an eye on him. Sandy had taken it upon himself to have Ryan's things already in the guest room when he got home, so that the boy wouldn't have a chance to disagree.

Once Sandy had laid out a moderate selection of clothes, he found himself wandering around the room. Even after living with the Cohens for nearly a year now, Ryan still had only the bare necessities in his room, no personal items in plain sight, nothing that made it evident that it was in fact Ryan's room.

A single photo in a picture frame on the bedside table caught his eye. Walking over and sitting down on the bed, Sandy picked up the photo. It was the picture taken of them from Chrismukkah, the one that had been put on their Christmas card. They were all seated around the fireplace, arms around one another and smiling. They looked happy. They looked like a family.

Feeling his throat begin to tighten, Sandy brushed his fingertips over Ryan's smiling face. It was a rare smile, one that Sandy took pride in making appear every once in a while. It wasn't an easy task, but one of the most rewarding. What that kid had been through, Sandy couldn't begin to imagine. Ryan had seen things in his life that no person deserved to go through, let alone a child. Once they had officially made Ryan a part of the family, Sandy had promised himself that no son of his would ever have to be alone again, to be unhappy, or afraid. He would keep him safe.

Tears blurring his vision, Sandy let the photo fall to his lap. Covering his face with his arm, he took several deep breaths and struggled to regain his composure.

Maybe this was a promise he wouldn't be able to keep.

And if that were the case, Sandy didn't know how he could live with himself.


A/N: I don't know what to say here. This was emotional, even for me writing it. I hope everyone liked it, and give me lots of feedback as you usually do so perfectly well. Cheers!

Vancouverite