A/N: Sorry for the long wait, but this is a long chapter. I've been really busy with school as exam time is coming up, as I'm sure many of you know, but this story will not go abandoned. It is my life right now, lol. That's extreme. Anyway, thanks for the amazing reviews, as usual. Beachtree, my new best friend (for reals, you're awesome), you're so great as always. And so, I give you chapter nine, an emotional rollercoaster that will take you through everyone's emotional trails (except Mr. Atwood…he gets his own chapter later) as they begin to come to terms with reality. Get the tissues, and review when you're done. Thanks a bunch!
FADING - Chapter Nine
Monday Afternoon
Quite literally, Ryan was dead on his feet. Seth didn't know if it were physically possible for a person to be moved around and manipulated as if they were a doll all the while remaining asleep, but somehow his foster brother made it look easy.
Somehow they had gotten the lethargic teenager into a sitting position, and by some miracle he remained that way. Kirsten was struggling to draw his limp arms through the sleeves of his grey sweatshirt while Seth took the liberty of tugging on a pair of runners onto his best friend's sock-covered feet.
"Ryan, man, if you were awake right now I think you would have a conniption." Seth grunted as he pulled on first the right sneaker, then the left. That accomplished he knelt down and started tying the laces. "We're dressing you. That has to be, like, against some Chino law or something…the Chino Embassy for Angry Youths is going to come and arrest us…we'll get thrown into some dark cell where a bunch of other silent, brooding teenagers will attack us and…"
Kirsten glared at her son. "Seth. He's out cold. Save it."
Seth put on his best wounded look. "Just trying to lighten the mood." He mumbled, getting up from the floor just as a nurse entered the room pushing a wheelchair. "Well, Ry. Your chariot awaits to escort you to freedom. You gonna wake up for this momentous occasion, bro?" He asked gently, placing a gentle hand on his brother's arm.
Stroking his hair, Kirsten touched Ryan's face. "Ryan? Wake up sweetie." She said into his ear. "It's time to go home."
Ryan's head lolled, his chin dipping down to his chest. "Mmm…" He mumbled, barely aware.
Just as Kirsten sighed and struggled to rouse him again, Seth shook his head. "Don't worry about it, mom. I've got him." Seth stood, draping one of Ryan's arms around his neck and wrapping his own arm around his best friend's waist. Carefully, Seth half-carried the other boy the small distance to the waiting wheelchair. "It really is a shame you're not awake for this, dude. You'd be freaking." Slowly and gently, Seth lowered Ryan down into the chair.
When Seth straightened he looked up and saw his mother watching him, her eyes soft and thoughtful, but her expression sad. Uncomfortable, Seth stuffed his hands in his pockets. "What?" He asked nervously.
Kirsten cleared her throat. "Nothing." She said quickly, but the look remained. Picking up Ryan's duffel bag, she slung it over her shoulder and moved to stand behind the wheelchair. "Let's get him home."
Seth side-stepped her and took hold of the handle bars. "I've got him, mom." He said, pushing Ryan out of the room and into the hall. After a moment, Kirsten followed. As they walked down the hall towards the elevator, Seth lowered his head to Ryan's level. "Bet you've never been so happy to leave a place, hey buddy? Me neither."
Finally, Ryan was coming home. Seth didn't think he could have handled one more day in a house that quiet, that lonely. It had felt eerily similar to the pre-Ryan days, the years Seth had spent alone, without a best friend, a brother. Not to mention the strange sense of unease and anxiety that had plagued him every time he worried about Ryan, struggling to convince himself that the boy would be okay. He had to be.
He was Ryan, after all.
All everyone needed was for Ryan to come home. Then everything would be better. Ryan wouldn't look so sick, and surely they'd just pump him full of miracle drugs and soon he would be cured. That way his mom wouldn't try so hard to smile whenever Ryan was awake, and not have to fight back tears when he fell asleep. Maybe his dad would stop being so uncharacteristically distant, and that shell-shocked look of fear that contorted his usually confidant face whenever he thought no one was looking would go away. Once Ryan was home, everything would go back to normal.
The elevator doors closed behind them, and Seth pushed the lobby button. They didn't look back.
When they pulled into the familiar driveway of the Cohen residence, Seth was surprised to see his father standing outside waiting for them. His expression changed instantly from sad, despondent, and tired, to overly cheerful and animated when he saw the Rover drive up towards him.
Seth watched as Kirsten took the key out of the ignition, checked Ryan one more time from where he sat reclined in the passenger seat beside her, and got out of the car. Sandy appeared beside her and forced a smile. "Hey, honey. I ordered Thai, got all your favorites, don't worry." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "How'd it go?"
Climbing out of the backseat, Seth slowly walked around to the passenger door, watching his mother's reaction. Kirsten regarded her husband quizzically for a moment, confusion evident on her face. Seth felt just as confused. One minute his father was moody and unusually quiet, the next acting as if everything was peachy keen.
"How was 'work', Sandy?" Seth heard Kirsten ask somewhat icily as he pulled open the passenger door, keeping one ear open for his father's response. Inside the car Ryan was still fast asleep, oblivious to the tension around him.
Seth mused that maybe it was better his foster brother wasn't awake. He knew that it would kill Ryan to know that Sandy and Kirsten were arguing about "taking care of him", so to speak. Or at least they would be arguing later, behind closed doors. Seth knew his parents well enough to make that assumption safely. Sandy's behavior at this time was not something Kirsten would likely let lie.
Somehow, Sandy avoided the question. "Fine." He said briskly. Then almost reluctantly – or was it just hesitance? "How's Ryan?"
"Exhausted." Kirsten replied, deciding to get to the bottom of what was bothering her husband later. "He's been asleep since well before we left the hospital. The procedure was really hard on him, though. When he woke up the first time he…"
"Well, now that he's home he'll be feeling better in no time." Sandy jumped in. "His bag in the back?" he asked, walking around to the rear of the vehicle
Seth heard the frustration in his mother's voice. "Sandy…"
Having heard enough, Seth bent down to get a better look at his foster brother, and a worried frown creased his face. Ryan was pale, even paler than before, and was breathing restlessly in his sleep. Even unconscious he looked uncomfortable. Seth's excitement about getting home was immediately quelled.
"Come on, bro. Let's get you inside." Seth said softly, undoing his brother's seatbelt and trying to gently pull the other boy out of the car.
Ryan stirred slightly and moaned at the movement, struggling to lift his head.
Seth grunted as he manhandled the deadweight in his arms, trying to get Ryan onto his feet. "I know. This isn't so great for me either, trust me." Seth groaned, wondering when and if he was going to get any help from the parentals. "Uhh…don't worry about us. I'm secretly the world's strongest man. I have no problem whatsoever lifting someone more than my own body weight. No biggie." He said sarcastically.
Sandy appeared at Ryan's other side and looped an arm around his waist. "Sorry." He mumbled, handing off the duffel bag to Kirsten as they began half-walking, half-carrying Ryan up the steps of the house and into the front door.
Half-way through the living room Ryan whimpered softly, his eyes fluttering open. "Where…am I?" He moaned, still half asleep. He blinked a couple of times, struggling to take in his surroundings as a wave of panic washed across his face.
His breathing accelerated. "Kirsten?" He called out suddenly, his voice gravitating towards fear.
Kirsten hurried to his side as Seth and Sandy slowed, holding Ryan close as he struggled to stand on his own, his knees buckling weakly. "It's okay, Ryan. You're home, sweetie." She said soothingly, rubbing his arm. "We're just trying to get you upstairs to the guest room so you can lie down. How does that sound?"
Ryan tried to nod. "'Kay." He mumbled, trying to pick up his feet as they neared the stairs.
"Just relax, Ry. We've got you." Seth said softly, tightening his grip around Ryan's waist. "We're almost there."
When they finally had reached the guest room at the end of the hall, Ryan's face was bathed with sweat and he was breathing heavily, exhausted. Seth and Sandy eased Ryan down onto the bed, watching as the boy squeezed his eyes shut, swaying dizzily and clutching at his stomach.
Kirsten sat beside him, her expression worried. "Ryan, honey, lie down." She told him, pulling back the blankets and arranging pillows.
Ryan didn't seem to hear her. "The room is…spinning." He said softly. He brought a furiously shaking hand to his temple. "My head…"
"Seth, go down stairs and bring up the paper bag I put on the kitchen counter with Ryan's meds in it." Kirsten instructed, her eyes never leaving Ryan's face as she stroked back his hair, her brows knit together in concern. "And bring up a glass of water, too."
Nodding, Seth hurried out of the room, but not before he caught sight of his father, standing nervously to the side. Sandy's expression was that same, paralyzed fear as he stared at Ryan's hunched over figure on the bed, his hands wringing helplessly as a battle raged behind his dark blue eyes. It was obvious to Seth that his father didn't know what to do with himself.
Seth touched Sandy's shoulder, bringing him out of his trance. "Dad…" Seth said softly, pulling his father's arm and turned him so that their backs were to Kirsten and Ryan.
Sandy looked at Seth with eyes full of fear, worry, and remorse, and for a moment Seth didn't know what to say. But he swallowed over the lump that had formed in his throat and looked at Ryan over his father's shoulder. "Dad, I'm scared, too." Seth told him quietly, his voice nearly a whisper. "But if you don't go over there and be his dad right now, you're going to hate yourself." Seth pulled his gaze off of his sick brother long enough to lock eyes with his father briefly; two similar pairs of eyes exchanging fears, and strengths.
"But…" Sandy stumbled over words, shaking his head. Then he sighed helplessly. "I don't know how to help him…I can't make him better, I…w-what would I even say?"
"Just…tell him the truth." Seth said, simply, turning to leave the room. At his father's questioning look, Seth sighed. "Tell him, you know…that everything is going to be okay, because we're going to take care of him." He said quietly, studying Sandy's face.
Sandy swallowed hard and some of the haze cleared from his eyes. He said nothing as he nodded tightly, and turned back towards the bed.
"Seth." Kirsten's voice broke through the boy's reverie, and he looked up to find her looking at him sternly. "Medicine. Kitchen. Now." She said briskly, turning back to her foster son.
Seth nodded. "Right." With that he spun on his heel and disappeared from the room, heading down the hall and to the stairs at a jog. When he reached the kitchen he scooped up the paper bag from the counter, filled a tumbler with water and headed back up to the second floor as quickly as he could without spilling. Thoughts raced through his mind a mile a minute as he retraced his steps back to the guestroom. Worries and fears for his brother mingled with an underlying layer of shock at the severity of Ryan's condition; Seth hadn't had the slightest idea that it would be this bad.
This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. Ryan was supposed to come home and get better. Maybe curl up on the couch and play some X Box, at best. Perhaps a couple days rest, like with the flu. But this…this wasn't right.
When he reached the doorway, Seth took a deep breath and steeled himself before entering. He could do this, though. He could be the strong one.
Seth shrugged. For a while, at least.
But when he rounded the corner and came face to face with the scene in front of him Seth felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. Ryan, exhausted and barely able to lift his head, was heaving violently into the garbage can from the bathroom that Kirsten held under his chin. Sandy sat on the bed behind Ryan, one arm looped around Ryan's chest, the other on his forehead, literally holding the boy up. Kirsten was rubbing Ryan's back with her free hand, a constant string of reassurances the only words offered from either of the parents.
For several long moments, Seth had no words. He stood staring, unblinking, wanting to look away but unable to. Fear was the only thing keeping him from running from the room, from asking how he could help, from screaming. Then he remembered the bag of pills in his hand and took a small step forward. "I…" He began, but trailed off.
Kirsten noticed him standing there, and her hand shot out. "Give me the bag, Seth." She instructed quickly.
As if on autopilot, Seth's legs compelled him forward and he walked towards her, extended his arm, and allowed her to snatch the bag from his hand. Unsure of what else to do, Seth placed the glass of water on the bedside table. His eyes wandered back to Ryan, and he flinched. "What…what can I do?" He asked nervously.
"You can wait out in the hall, please." Kirsten said suddenly as she smoothed Ryan's bangs off his forehead.
Seth stood rooted in spot. He wasn't sure whether he should be grateful to be told to leave the room, or offended. "What?" He stammered, confused. "No, I…"
Sandy looked up. "Seth. You heard your mother." He snapped, his attention barely wavering from Ryan, who continued to heave into the trash can in front of him. "Go on. Outside."
After a moment Seth nodded to himself shakily and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Out in the hall he leaned against the wall, staring up at the ceiling for a few moments before he had to close his eyes against the blur of tears.
How could this be happening?
The click of the door opening startled Seth out of a daydream and he quickly looked up from his seat on the floor to find Kirsten exit the guest room. "How is he?" Seth asked immediately.
When Kirsten looked down at her son, as if surprised to see him still waiting outside the room nearly an hour later, she gave a brief, brave smile. "He's just about asleep." She murmured, pushing her hair behind her ears. "Finally."
Seth nodded. "That's good." From where he sat leaning against the wall, Seth looked up at his mother and studied her face; she looked tired, and he reminded himself that she hadn't had a night at home since before Ryan had been admitted to the hospital. But she also had such an intense amount of worry in her eyes that made Seth want to break down and cry right then and there. She was so scared for Ryan. It did little to put Seth at ease. He cleared his throat. "Dad still in there?"
"Yeah. Mr. Positivism himself." She said softly, concerns and confusion clouding her blue eyes. "I wish he would talk to me…I've never seen him like this. Sky high one minute and rock bottom the next." She looked down at he hands.
"He's just scared, mom."
"We all are, Seth." Kirsten said quickly. "But this is not…problems at work, or arguments with my dad. This is Ryan, and he's sick. If we don't talk about this at some point, we're all going to lose it. And I'm not about to let that happen."
Seth stared at his feet. "That's great, mom." He said unenthusiastically. "But it's not that simple. At least not for everyone." Seth knew how his dad was feeling; it was the exact same gut-wrenching fear that was currently gnawing at his insides. But some rational part of Seth's brain was refusing to let that fear take over. He had to be strong
If not for himself then for Ryan. It was the least he could do for his brother.
He continued to feel his mother's eyes on him. "Which brings me to you…" Kirsten said, sliding down the wall to sit on her heels, her eyes leveled with his. "How are you dealing with all this?" She asked, placing a warm hand on his knee.
With a shrug, Seth looked longingly back at the door. "I'm fine, I guess." He said slowly. "Just worried about him."
Kirsten swallowed hard and bobbed her head in agreement. "Me too." She whispered.
Seth sighed. "He was sick for a long time." Seth stated, remembering how long he had heard the unmistakable sounds of someone being sick as he sat outside the room playing Death Cab songs in his head to take his mind off of what had to be going on inside. "I've never thrown up that much in my life. If there was a vomiting Olympics, I think he would have won, hands down, kicked everyone else's ass."
"His reaction to the chemo was pretty violent. He couldn't even keep down the Compazine prescribed for the nausea…this isn't going to be easy on anyone, but especially Ryan. He's going to get very sick, Seth." Kirsten said slowly, her voice tight. Then her face softened. "I'm sorry I kicked you out. But…you didn't need to see that."
Seth snorted. "You think I'm that squeamish? I can handle an emergency, mom." He retorted, but then sighed. "And besides. Gonna have to get used to it, right?" He asked sadly.
Kirsten shook her head. "It's not just that, Seth..."
"Then what?"
"Think about Ryan for a minute." Kirsten said simply. "The only reason he didn't kick me and Sandy out was because he couldn't sit up well enough to aim for the garbage can. He's a very private person and…as hard as it's going to be, we have to try to remember that he doesn't like feeling helpless anymore than we do."
Seth nodded, thinking reasonably. "I got it. He needs his space." Then the corners of his mouth quirked up into a ghost of a smile. "But the guy's got to learn one way or another that in the Cohen house you don't get too much of that. Especially not in a crisis. We're known for our pushiness." He quirked.
With a laugh, Kirsten smiled at his son. "I guess we'll all need to adjust." She agreed. Then she stood, smoothing wrinkles from her pants. "I'm going to go get Ryan some Ginger Ale. See if that will help."
As Seth watched her leave, he remained sitting on the ground. He understood that Ryan would need privacy, that much was obvious. The guy still wasn't known for stringing more than a few sentences together when he could get away with it. Perhaps the Atwoods were not the social butterflies that the Cohens were. Seth could respect that, but over the long months since Ryan had come to live with them he and his parents had taken it upon themselves to crack Ryan's shell, and slowly, it was working.
And at a time like this, with the latest trauma in the Cohen family, Seth knew that even though it would not be easy, they couldn't sit back and let Ryan revert back to how quiet and locked up he used to be.
Seth smiled. Ryan would just have to learn that the Cohens faced a crisis head on, and whether he liked it or not, they were there the whole way through. Even if Seth had to take it upon himself, he would make sure Ryan got the picture. Because Ryan needed to know that he had to get better, and he had the whole family behind him. Anything else wasn't an option.
Because Seth couldn't imagine a single day without his brother.
He needed him.
Marissa sat alone in her room hugging her Care Bear to her tightly as she lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Thoughts and images raced through her mind in flashes, sending her emotions on a rollercoaster.
Her and Ryan happy, smiling, laughing, kissing
Ryan ghostly pale and sick in a hospital bed.
That wasn't her Ryan. Her Ryan was tough, and brave. He fought for her, kept her safe. He was her protector.
He completed her.
A sob made its way passed her lips as tears filled her eyes and tracked down her cheeks. The wrecking ball that had become her life had finally stopped swinging, and now her boyfriend was sick. Not just her boyfriend. Her escape. Her knight in shining armor.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Marissa took several calming breaths and swallowed over the lump in her throat. Rolling over on her bed, she looked under the mattress for a cardboard box that she hadn't reached for in quite a while, but knew would still be there. Pulling it out she quickly found a half-full bottle of vodka and held it firmly in her hands, hastily undoing the cap and taking a long drink.
The bitter taste burned her throat and made her eyes water, but after several gulps the numb that warmed her body and mind helped to fill the emptiness and ache in her heart.
"Ryan." She whispered, his face dancing across her closed eyelids. "I need you."
Sandy tossed and turned in bed for the billionth time that night, staring at the shadows that danced across the wall. He could hear Kirsten's gentle breathing beside him, signaling that she was fast asleep. They had been up past midnight with Ryan, who had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep after hours of throwing up even though nothing remained in his stomach longer than a few minutes.
Rolling onto his back with a sigh, Sandy stared up at the ceiling. He couldn't get Ryan's face out of his head. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the image the boy the same way he had looked the whole night: his skin deathly pale, dark circles ringing his eyes as sweat soaked his face and curled the hair around his ears and forehead. His usually dark blue eyes were overly bright and full of pain.
Nothing seemed to calm him. He writhed constantly from the pain in his back and squeezed his eyes tightly shut against a headache that had to be mind-numbing. He shivered violently even with three blankets covering him to his chin. Nothing eased the tremors that ran through his body with every throb of his muscles or roll of his stomach. The only thing that seemed to soothe him in the slightest was Kirsten's gentle fingers running through his sandy blonde hair and her comforting hand rubbing soft circles on his back. After several minutes he would finally doze off, but come awake with a start with every shudder of pain or dizziness. Finally, after what had seemed like an eternity he had been able to keep down a painkiller and sleeping pill long enough to fall asleep.
Sandy pushed the comforter aside and sat up in bed, careful not to creak the mattress and wake up Kirsten. He knew that he wouldn't get any rest tonight.
Walking quietly to the bathroom he quickly found his bathrobe and slipped it on, stepping out into the hall and closing the door behind him softly. Standing out in the dimly lit hall, he heaved a sigh and scrubbed his unshaven face with the heel of his hand.
What was he doing? Sandy didn't even know anymore. Ever since they had found out that Ryan had cancer his world had been sent spinning. Nothing seemed to make sense.
Sandy walked down the hall and stopped outside of Seth's room. Pushing the door open gently he walked in and peered around the corner, watching his son's sleeping form curled up in a jungle of twisted blankets.
At least Seth had things under control, he thought to himself. A sixteen-year-old had to tell him today to get his act together long enough to be the parent for a few hours. Sandy didn't know what had been going through his head when he had been standing at the back of the room, watching as Kirsten took over and did her best to comfort Ryan when he first woke up. He'd never felt so helpless in his life.
Sandy left the room and walked back out into the hall, looking longingly at the room at the end, the door ajar. After a moment's hesitation, he walked slowly towards the guestroom, his feet compelling him forward. When he reached the door, he pushed it open and stepped inside. Ryan's sleeping face was bathed in moonlight from the window in the corner. The room was silent.
Sandy was supposed to be the parent. He had taken Ryan into his home, made him his son, and promised him that his life would change. He had promised to protect him. And yet now there was the chance that they could lose him. But there was no way Sandy would even accept that as a possibility.
It wasn't a possibility. Ryan was going to be fine. He had to be.
Over the past couple days Sandy had been on an emotional rollercoaster; one minute he felt convinced that he had to be the strong, positive one, the adult who rationalized and saw the bright side of the situation. The one who told his kids and wife that everything was going to be A-okay. But the next minute reality would hit home hard and Sandy would feel utterly powerless, and wanted nothing more that to flee the room and distance himself from everyone. Because this time he didn't have any answers. Because maybe this time things weren't going to be okay.
Without realizing it Sandy found himself at the bedside, staring down at Ryan's finally peaceful face. Feeling his emotions rise to the surface, Sandy swallowed hard, reaching down to gently stroke the boy's hair. Ryan flinched and sighed softly in his sleep. After several long moments of just watching, silently, Sandy sank down into the chair pulled up to the head of the bed, and took his foster son's hand, holding it gently.
Sandy took a deep breath. "Ryan…kid, I'm sorry I haven't been there for you." He whispered, watching as Ryan slept on, oblivious to his words. "You know I'm pretty handy when I've got a problem on my hands, but…when it comes to my family, things are not okay. I don't really handle that part too well. And you're a Cohen, kiddo. You're my son…you're a very important part of my family. And I'm just…terrified of losing one of my kids.
"But I can promise you now, Ryan, that I'm not going anywhere. I know it hasn't been very clear up until now, but I'm here for you. I'm going to get you through this." Sandy's voice cracked and his eyes burned with unshed tears. As his defenses crumbled, his thumb gently stroked the back of Ryan's hand.
"I'm sorry." He whispered, tears beginning to fall down his cheeks unnoticed. "I'm so sorry, kid. But you're going to get better. I need you, Ryan. You're my son, and I need you. This family needs you." He trailed off as he choked back a sob. "Please…"
Hunching over the bed, Sandy held Ryan's hand in both of his and laid his forehead on the mattress. Silently, he cried. He cried for Ryan, for his family, and for himself. And although he hadn't done it since he was a kid, Sandy prayed with all his heart that his son would get better.
A/N: I haven't got much to say…just review plz. This was looooong and hard to write. My blood, sweat, and tears went into it….okay, so I'm a tad dramatic. So what. Anyhoo, I've said enough. I hope you enjoyed it. Cheers!
Vancouverite
