AN: Apology time! Sorry for the loooong update. I've been super busy with school and work and such…this won't happen again. I'm just going to say, I love this chapter. I really like how it turned out and hopefully you will feel the same. Thanks to my friendly readers, you guys continue to be amazing. I just want to say to anyone who hopes for a quick resolution, you need not look here. This story is going to be a looong one. I have lots of plot left to unravel, it has many turns yet to take. So sit back and enjoy the ride.
FADING – Chapter Ten
Tuesday
There was a clicking noise. It sounded kind of like a typewriter, but was definitely something else. The clacking was vibrating in his head, combining forces with a headache that throbbed behind his eyes. Pulling himself out of unconsciousness was like trying to throw off a heavy, wet blanket, and an overwhelming combination of senses assaulted him from every angle; pain stabbing at his body like knives, dizziness and foggy confusion sending his mind spiraling out of control.
Suddenly the world tilted as firm, but gentle hands grabbed him and rolled Ryan onto his side, and he threw up. Waves of nausea swept over him one after the other, relentless for what seemed like hours before he was again moved, a gentle touch under his neck and another under his arm as he was laid back down.
Ryan's ears were buzzing, like the static from the broken TV in the living room back in Chino. Was that were he was? But that clicking was back full force, too. And someone was talking, but he could barely make out the words. "…Better, kid? Just breathe for a few minutes, Ryan. It'll pass." The voice was saying soothingly. It was a man's voice. But definitely not Trey, and certainly not his dad. So no, not Chino.
Thank God.
"Do you want some water, Ryan? It might make you feel better." The voice suggested, and Ryan wanted to open his eyes and end the suspense as to who it was. But conscious thoughts eluded him, and the energy for even that small task seemed impossible. "I know you haven't been able to keep anything down, but…Ryan? Ryan, what's wrong?"
Finally having cracked his eyes open, Ryan glanced around the room. It wasn't familiar. He didn't know where he was.
What was going on? Where was he and why didn't he have the strength to grasp at the shards and fragments of memories that fogged his brain with hazy, confusing images that didn't make any sense.
He tried to move, but he hurt. Everything hurt. Dizziness made the room spin and another wave of nausea threatened send him over the edge. He moaned softly, shutting his eyes and swallowing hard. He would not get sick again.
Instantly there was movement from the side of the bed, and he felt a cool, rough hand touch his forehead. "Take it easy, kid." The voice said soothingly. "You're okay."
Only one person called Ryan 'kid' now. Cracking his eyes open, Ryan turned his head slightly and blinked in confusion. "Sandy?" he asked, his voice rough and scratchy. His throat hurt.
But there was Sandy, looking disheveled as ever, leaning over him. His eyes were wide and so full of concern as he studied Ryan's face. "Yeah, it's me. Looks like you made it through your first night." He smiled, squeezing Ryan's hand encouragingly, and Ryan hadn't realized he had been holding it. It was warm and stiff, as though he had been like that forever.
Then everything clicked into place: cancer, the hospital, chemotherapy, arriving back at the Cohen's house.
He was home.
Just as Ryan began to wonder if the clicking sound would ever go away, a shudder ran through him and he shivered violently, realizing for the first time that the noise was his own teeth chattering. Sandy picked up a blanket that had been draped around his own shoulders and placed it over his foster son gently. "I'm sorry you're so cold, kid." He said, sounding helpless.
Ryan tried to shrug. "S'okay." He whispered weakly, then he glanced around the room again. "Guest room?" He asked.
The look Sandy gave him was strange. "Yep." Ryan fought the urge to ask about the night before. He didn't want to know. He had hazy memories, bits and pieces that didn't fit together. He closed his eyes.
Constant cold that sank deep down into his bones.
Mind-numbing pain in his head, neck, and back.
Heaving constantly even though nothing stayed in his stomach.
Sandy's whispered reassurances.
Kirsten's warm arms around him, her fingers sweeping through his hair.
A nightmare that wouldn't end.
Ryan came back to himself as Sandy pulled him forward again, holding a towel under his chin. Nausea rolled over him yet again, and he heaved, but he had nothing left. His throat burned and pain stabbed at his insides. But dizziness washed over him again, and he couldn't stop.
"Ryan, easy, easy." Sandy murmured into his ear. His voice was strong. Confident. Ryan tried to focus on it. "I know it's hard, but just take it easy. Try to breathe."
He tried. But it didn't work. Ryan felt his back muscles giving out and his neck suddenly refused to support his head.
Voices faded into echoes, and he felt as if he were being submerged under water. "….Ryan…. on, kiddo, look at me…" Ryan felt the bed dip and a strong arm encircled his shoulders, another cupped his neck, holding his head up.
He heaved again, and Sandy's arms remained. His voice returned, stronger, coaching him. "You've got to stop, Ryan. You've got to breathe. Take a deep breath, okay kid? Breathe." Ryan did.
"Again." Sandy instructed
After long moments of just breathing, Ryan felt the nausea finally subside, and he sighed gratefully, closing his eyes in exhaustion. Sandy gently helped him lie back down, adjusting his blankets and pillows. "Thanks." Ryan managed to utter breathlessly.
He heard Sandy sigh. "Nothing to thank me for, kid." He said softly as Ryan felt the heavy blanket of unconsciousness settle over him again. Only this time it wasn't cold and wet; instead it was warm and soft, enveloping him like a hug, beckoning him to follow. Sandy's hand reached for his own again, and something gently touched his forehead. "Sleep, Ryan."
So he did.
Soft fingers fluttered through his hair with a feather-like touch, and the voice of an angel whispered his name. "Ryan…Ryan…" the voice called softly, cutting through his sleep-hazed mind. "Ryan…wake up, sweetie."
Cracking his eyes open, the image of his angel slowly took shape; warm light silhouetted her as she hovered over the bed, a golden halo of hair surrounding a smiling face and twinkling blue eyes. "There you are, sleepyhead." She said softly, her smile widening. "How are you feeling?"
Ryan blinked, hypnotized by her face glowing above him. He felt safe. "'Kay." He croaked.
The angel frowned. "Let me get you some water. Or better, I have some ginger ale." Then she moved, and the light left her. Ryan looked around in surprise. The light was coming from the hallway, flooding in from the partially opened door. Kirsten moved in front of him holding a glass with a straw. "Here, let's sit you up."
Ryan blushed, blaming his hallucinations on the chemo. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Ryan felt himself begin to shake as the now familiar pain in his back and neck made itself known, and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply.
"Here, man. Let me help you." A second voice said and two arms encircled him gently, carefully lifting him up and placing him against a stack of pillows. Cracking open an eye revealed Seth standing beside the bed, Kirsten now standing in the background as she handed her son the glass of ginger ale. "Mom says you're thirsty. You thirsty?" He asked, bringing the straw to Ryan's lips.
Tentatively, Ryan took a sip. The cool, sweet liquid brought relief to his painfully sore mouth, and he eagerly drank more, despite warnings from Kirsten that he slow down. "Thanks." He said when he was done.
"No prob." Seth replied, placing the glass back on the bedside table. "So, you've had a nice nap, dude. Phone's been ringing off the hook for you all day. Word spreads fast in this fantastic town, wouldn't you know it. People want to come visit left, right, and center. But mom made me turn them all away, at least until tomorrow." Seth sighed, exasperated. "Personally, I think that decision was for the best. I mean, Seth-Ryan summer time has to start at some point, too. I mean, I've got new Legion comics that you haven't even seen. Oh, and I rented that video game I was telling you about, the new Star Wars one? Now, I haven't played yet 'cause I'm waiting for you, but it hasn't been easy. Don't get me started on that…"
Kirsten jumped in. "Seth?" She interrupted with a hand on his shoulder. "You'll have plenty of time to catch up later. Let's not forget the reason why we so rudely came in here to wake up poor Ryan from his sleep." Kirsten smiled at him, smoothing back his hair.
Seth nodded, grinning in realization. "Right. The soup. Ryan my man, I know you probably aren't all that famished, but Rosa made her famous recipe that will without a doubt make you feel better." He admonished. "I'm always hungry for it, no matter how sick I am. Works like a charm."
Ryan smiled weakly. "Great." He replied, trying his best to sound enthusiastic and not disgusted. He didn't know what time it was, but he knew he should be hungry. The last time he remembered eating something was…in the hospital. But as long ago as that was, nausea still settled uneasily in the pit of his stomach. He shivered. "Do I have to eat in here?" he asked, suddenly desperate to get out of bed.
"Not if you feel up to travel. A detour downstairs might be just what the doctor ordered." Seth said, patting his brother's shoulder. "I'll get you a sweatshirt, buddy." Seth suggested, and moved to open and rummage through the drawers of the dresser against the opposite wall.
Giving him an encouraging smile, Kirsten sat on the edge of the bed. "I know you probably don't feel up to it, honey." She said softly. "But you haven't eaten anything in a long time. It's after six…we need to get something in you. Who knows, it might make you feel better." She shrugged.
Seth returned with a grey hooded sweatshirt and held it up with a grin. "So, what do you say, man?" He asked cheerfully. "Up for a little field trip into the living room?"
When he finally reached the couch, Ryan flopped down onto the soft cushions with a grateful sigh. The walk from the upstairs guestroom had taken just about every last ounce of energy he had, not to mention that his back was screaming in protest to even the minimal exertion.
Kirsten looked at him and concern shone in her eyes. Ryan tried to remember the last time that look hadn't been there, and couldn't. "I'll get your meds, Ryan." She said, and disappeared into the kitchen.
Seth hesitated before sitting down beside his best friend. "Need anything?" He asked helpfully.
Ryan shook his head.
"That's cool." Seth said, dropping down heavily onto the seat beside him. "Just ask if you do…I'm your friendly household butler at your service." He mock-saluted, sitting back as they lapsed into silence.
Glancing briefly at the other boy, Ryan instantly picked up on Seth's discomfort. The other boy's mouth opened and closed every few seconds futilely, as if he planned on saying something and then instantly changed his mind. Ryan cleared his throat. "So…where's your dad?" he asked conversationally.
"Oh…asleep." Seth replied casually. "Yeah, he was, uh, working really hard today…figured he'd get some office time in at home since the 'rents are taking a few days off…"
"He was up all night with me, wasn't he?" Ryan asked wearily, staring at his hands folded in his lap. He had suspected as much, remembering when he first woke up in the morning to find Sandy at his side, wearing a bathrobe and looking as if he hadn't slept in days.
Seth didn't know what to say. Ryan could feel his foster brother's eyes staring holes into the side of his head, that sympathetic look mingled with worry. "Well…you know, they were worried and all. I, uh, I'm not sure really."
Ryan forced a tight smile. "It's okay, Seth." He mumbled under his breath. "If you see him before I do, tell him I'm sorry for me, will you?" he asked leaning back against the cushions and willing the pain in his back and the slowly building headache to go far, far away.
"Ryan, it's not your fault." Seth said suddenly, his voice surprised.
Turning his head slightly, Ryan looked at his brother. "Whose is it then?" He muttered. He felt a sudden frustration building at the way Seth was looking at him; that sad, pitying look, and the soft, concerned voice. But Seth didn't deserve his anger. Ryan sighed and looked at the ceiling.
"Ryan…you were sick. You are sick." Seth began, unsure of what more to say. Ryan didn't look at him as he spoke. He knew that if he did he was going to loose it and yell at his best friend, making a huge mistake. That or punch something. Either option seemed likely right then. "It's not your fault, it's nobody's fault. It happened…"
With a jerky shake of his head, Ryan shut his eyes. "Shut up, Seth." He whispered. His head hurt. Everything hurt. He felt sick. He needed the silence. He didn't need to hear one more soft, soothing reassurance. They didn't help, they didn't change anything. They made him feel like some poor, sick person.
Like some cancer patient.
Seth closed his mouth and looked back at Ryan silently for a long time, but Ryan said nothing more, and didn't open his eyes. For several long moments they sat there until Kirsten returned from the kitchen carrying a tray. She must have noticed the tension between her two sons because she paused, frowning.
But after a moment she walked towards them and placed the tray in front of Ryan, smiling gently. "Here we go." She transferred a handful of pills to his palm and handed him a glass of water. "You can't have the painkillers on an empty stomach…those are the small white ones. So always have something to eat with them. They're in the kitchen…Seth knows where."
Ryan nodded and quickly swallowed all the capsules one by one before he dared to start eating the soup. Just the smell was turning his stomach, but he knew that he had to at least try it. Kirsten was watching him like a hawk.
So slowly, he lifted the spoon and dipped it into the hot liquid, and brought it to his lips. For the first time he noticed how furiously his hand shook; most of the soup ended up sloshing off back into the bowl. With a lot of effort, he managed to get most of it under control as he finally brought the spoon to his lips. As he swallowed, he looked up to find Kirsten and Seth staring at him. Embarrassed, they quickly looked away and attempted to strike up a conversation.
Ryan listened absently as he took slow, steady spoonfuls, concentrating intently on keeping his stomach under control. But halfway between Seth nagging about the house being devoid of cereal and Kirsten telling him to go to the store and buy some for himself, Ryan dropped his spoon with a clatter and pushed the tray off his lap, sprinting down the hall to the bathroom.
He thought he had kicked the door shut behind him, but Kirsten appeared moments later and sat down beside him, a gentle hand rubbing circles on his back, her voice reassuring him soothingly. After an eternity, Ryan finally was able to lift his head from the toilet as he slumped against the porcelain bowl, panting and sweating in exhaustion.
Kirsten stood and filled a tumbler with water, wetting a washcloth and turning back to sit beside him. Gently she helped him take a few sips before she set the glass aside and carefully bathed his pale face with the cloth. "There…that feel better, honey?" She asked gently, pushing back errant locks of his sandy blonde hair.
All he could do was nod.
Pressing her lips to his forehead, Kirsten sat with him until he felt strong enough for her to pull him to his feet. By that time his head was pounding, his back was screaming in pain, and his legs felt like Jell-O as he allowed Kirsten to help him up, wrapping an arm around his waist as they left the bathroom and went back into the living room.
That's where Ryan found Seth cleaning up the overturned bowl of soup from the carpet.
Ryan immediately let go of Kirsten. "Seth, don't." He said, walking towards the other boy on shaky legs. "I'll clean it." He took the rag from his brother's hand and wiped vainly at the stain on the rug.
"Ryan…I can do it, man." Seth said, sounding surprised as he tried to take the dishcloth back.
"No." Ryan insisted, snatching it away, not looking up from the task at hand. "I should do it…I want to do it."
Seth sighed. "Ryan…" he protested.
Ryan whirled around and glared at his foster brother angrily. "God dammit, Seth, I made the mess, I'll clean it up." He snapped, his teeth clenched tightly together. He saw the stunned look in Seth's eyes, and immediately turned his attention back to the floor. "I can do it." He mumbled under his breath. From the corner of his eye he saw Seth look at Kirsten for help, but she just shook her head. After a moment, Seth stepped back.
For several seconds he crouched there, feeling their eyes on his back. Suddenly the blood rushed to his head and started pounding in his ears, the room spinning slightly, dizzyingly. Sitting back on his heels, Ryan rubbed his temples, willing the stabbing pain in his head to go away.
He felt a gentle hand on his back. "Ryan…" Kirsten began softly. "You're not well. Go back to bed, we can take care of this. It's nothing."
"It's not nothing." He muttered, keeping his eyes closed. Ryan sighed. "None of this is nothing." He let the cloth fall to the floor and put a hand back against the couch to steady himself.
"Ryan." Kirsten whispered, her hand still stroking his back. "We'll take care of it, sweetie." She repeated.
Ryan wanted to protest again. He wanted wipe the looks of concern off their faces and just make everything go back to normal. But another wave of dizziness forced him to rise, pushing himself into a standing position, his hands steadied on his thighs. Halfway upright a crippling pain hit his spine and he let out a whimper, biting on his lip to hold back a cry of pain; of frustration.
Seth instantly was at his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and gripping his arm, helping him stand. But as soon as Ryan found his strength, he pulled out of his friend's embrace and staggered away. "I'm fine." He growled, walking away as quickly as he could.
He felt their pitying eyes follow him down the hall and up the stairs. Pity that made him want to lash out, and put a fist through the wall. Pity that made him want crawl into his bed, hide his head under a pillow and never have to face anyone again. Pity that made him crave the way things used to be.
Ryan couldn't sleep. Between the unrelenting pain in his body, the cold despite the several blankets stacked on top of him, and the guilt over the way he had reacted towards Seth and Kirsten, he couldn't get his exhausted body to relent to rest. For several hours he tossed and turned, wincing and gritting his teeth against the ache that wouldn't go away.
A couple of times Kirsten had come in to check on him and each time he had pretended to be asleep. She just sat by the bed, sighing softly and stroking his hair, an action that he thought he would be tired of. In truth, he didn't think he ever would be, no matter how frustrated he got from all the hovering the Cohens did around him. Her touch was gentle and soothing, a touch he couldn't remember feeling in all his life. It made him feel safe, like even though his world was crashing down around him, that simple touch made things bearable even just for the little while that Kirsten did it. And it was enough.
A creak on the floor by the doorway alerted Ryan that someone was coming in. Closing his eyes, he waited to hear Kirsten's gentle footfalls. But this time the slow steady steps told him that it was not his foster mother.
A solitary figure sat on the end of the bed. Before Ryan had another moment to wonder, Seth's voice began speaking very softly. "I'm sorry about before." He began slowly. "Sometimes…sometimes I don't know what to say to make things okay. So really, through most of this, I'm just flying by the seat of my pants. And what I say isn't always going to be the right thing. But…bear with me, man, because I'm trying."
There was a long pause, and for a moment Ryan wondered if that was it. But then Seth spoke again, his voice a little softer, a little hoarser. "Don't push us away, Ryan." The boy whispered. "Because it won't work, I'll tell you right now. Give up. We're not going anywhere. You're just going to have to suck it up, man. Put your big, tough, Chino ego on the shelf for a while, okay? As much as you're going to hate to admit it, you need us right now. And we need you, so we're not going to turn out backs on you. So get over yourself." He swallowed hard, and Ryan saw him swipe at his eyes. Then Seth sighed, and stood up. "Night, man." He whispered, heading for the door.
Ryan rolled over onto his back. "Seth?" He called.
Seth stopped in the doorway, but didn't turn around.
Taking a deep breath, Ryan blinked back tears. "I'm fine, Seth." He said clearly, his voice shaking. "I'm fine."
He saw Seth nod. "Sure you are." He mumbled sarcastically. With that, he left, leaving the door ajar.
Ryan listened to his footsteps get farther and farther away down the hall, his eyes burning with tears, until he hear Seth's bedroom door open and close. Then he didn't hear anything anymore.
AN: Please read and review…I hope you guys are as pleased with it as I am. Cheers!
Vancouverite
