AN: Okay, this took so damn long because…well, it's long. And I like it, a lot, I'm pleased with myself, and therefore hoping that you guys will like it as well. Tremendous reviews, I dare say even more so than usual. Beachtree, sorry I haven't e-mailed you in a while, as you can see, I've been a busy bee. But I promise to get around to it soon. Other people who e-mailed me personally, thanks so much. I swear you'll get a reply soon. In any event, here's chapter seventeen. Please read, review, and enjoy!

FADING – Chapter 17

Saturday

The only noises Sandy could register as he ran the short distance from the driveway to the front door with his jacket held over his head to block the rain that poured from the sky, taking the stairs two at a time, was the rapid beating of his own heart, and the metallic clinking as Kirsten fumbled to force the key into the locks with furiously shaking hands. He had to swallow back the urge to literally remove her from the only thing separating himself from his sons, and break down that damned door himself.

As he was about to do just that, his wife finally managed to get the door open and they pushed their way through. "Seth!" Sandy found his voice abruptly as they jogged through the foyer.

"In here!" Came his son's call. Sandy followed it, Kirsten right behind him

The first thing he saw was Seth standing across the room, in front of the couch. His curly hair was fuzzy, out of control, and needed to be cut, Sandy realized. But his eyes, glued to his father's from a few meters away, were what struck Sandy the hardest; they were scared, and panicked, and relieved, all at once, and in that moment Sandy would have ran to him, covered the distance between them and hugged him until his son wasn't afraid anymore. And he would have done that if he hadn't had a more pressing need to worry about at that moment.

Ryan.

Kirsten beat him to the couch, and fell to her knees beside the boy's head. Sandy was right behind her, pushing the coffee table, an obstacle, out of his way as he crouched beside his wife and struggled to keep breathing. Ryan looked like he was out cold, or he would have if his face wasn't slightly pinched, the way he always looked when he got a bad headache, or if his back really hurt. But his eyes were shut and he almost looked peaceful. But the cause for the lump that formed in Sandy's throat was his foster son's beyond pale complexion, almost waxy and grey, and the bright red flush across his cheeks.

He heard Kirsten hesitantly clear her throat, almost a choking sound, as she brought up a trembling hand to his face. With the backs of her fingers, she gently stroked his cheek. "Ryan?" She whispered softly.

Sandy noticed for the first time that Marissa had been perched on the couch beside Ryan, and now she stood up to give them room, stepping back reluctantly to stand close to Seth. Her wide eyes were filled with tears, but she didn't remove her gaze from Ryan's face. Sandy couldn't count the number of times he had seen that girl cry on both hands. She sniffed, and hesitated before she spoke. "He…he stopped talking about five minutes ago." Her voice was soft.

Kirsten turned to look at her. "What?" She asked in confusion.

"It's…it's like he's ignoring us, mom." Seth spoke up suddenly, his voice shaky. "He won't talk, he's not responding to anything."

Turning back around, Sandy watched his wife nod, taking this information into account with a sad look in her eyes. Gently, she brushed her fingers through Ryan's hair and stopped briefly to rest her hand across his sweat-dampened forehead. She frowned. "Seth, can you please get me the thermometer?" She asked as politely as possible.

Marissa cleared her throat, and pointed to the coffee table, where the plastic object already sat. "It's 102.3." She stammered slightly, her blue eyes wide and hopeful. "We took it two minutes ago."

Kirsten managed a small smile at the girl, and then looked at their son. "You did a good job, you guys." She reassured them half-heartedly. Then a silence fell over the room, and Sandy looked up to see his wife staring at him. Her eyes were saying something to him he knew he should understand, but at that moment, nothing made sense.

"Sandy…" Kirsten said finally, beckoning him down closer. Once their eyes were level, she spoke to him in a hushed tone that betrayed the calm she was struggling to portray. "Should we take him to the hospital?" She murmured her words near his ears.

He was afraid it would come to this. Frowning at Ryan's still face, he let the question play over in his head for a few agonizing moments, feeling three sets of eyes boring down on him expectantly. Licking dry lips, Sandy gave a slight shake of his head. "I don't know." He replied honestly.

"This isn't right." Kirsten said, her soft voice filled with anxiety. "He's too quiet, he hasn't moved since we got here…"

Sandy reached out and took one of Ryan's icy cold hands into both of his, and squeezed it firmly. "Ryan." He said his name in a clear, strong voice. He saw movement under the boy's eyelids, and held his hand tighter. "Ryan. I know you can hear me. Answer me, son."

His felt his heart leap into his throat when a barely-there whimper made it's way past Ryan's throat. "Ryan…" Sandy tried again. "Open your eyes." The demand was just that – a near order in his parental, no-nonsense voice.

Lashes fluttered against a pale cheek, but after a moment his lids slowly opened to half-mast, revealing two exhausted, pain-filled blue eyes. Sandy felt his heart stop in his chest at that look, and he just held onto Ryan's hand even tighter. "Sandy…" the teenager murmured plaintively.

Kirsten stroked back his stubborn bangs with a gentle, steady sweep of her fingers. "Ryan, sweetie." She said to him gently, and his eyes moved slowly to land on hers. "Do you know where you are?"

Ryan glanced around, his expression hurt and confused, but he nodded. "Your house." He said it disappointed, betrayed, and looked pointedly at Marissa for a moment.

"No, you're home." Sandy corrected, drawing the boy's eyes back to his face. Ryan said nothing, but he seemed to be listening. "Ryan, why did you run away like that? We were so worried about you, we didn't know where you'd gone…Do you realize what could have happened to you? I can't even think about what might have happened if Marissa hadn't found you and brought you home. For God's sake, Ryan, you're sick. You can't be out wandering on the beach out in cold like that…" Sandy didn't know where this sudden burst of anger was coming from, but suddenly he couldn't stop it.

"I'm sorry." Ryan's whispered interruption came quietly, and Sandy stopped himself as his foster son lowered his gaze to the floor, shivering huddled under the mound of blankets on top of him.

Kirsten shot Sandy a disapproving look as she whispered to him in a soothing, reassuring tone. "It's alright, Ryan. We're not mad at you." She told him gently. "We were just scared, that's all."

Ryan shook his head weakly. "I didn't…I didn't know…" his voice trailed off and he broke off coughing for a moment, and Sandy exchanged a worried look with his wife. "I didn't want to scare you." He said finally.

"Of course we were scared." Sandy said, disbelieving. "Do not do that again, Ryan. I know you were upset, and maybe mad at me, at Seth, but you do not run from us like that. Next time just come to one of us, whether it be me, or Kirsten, or Seth…talk to us." He stopped, and hesitated then. Somehow he knew that his point was still not getting across. Ryan would not look him in the eye, and he was blinking, looking scared suddenly, and trapped.

Ready to flee.

Sandy moved his hand up to Ryan's arm and squeezed it insistently. "Ryan, look at me." He said, and waited. He would wait for this all day. Finally, agonizingly slowly, Ryan lifted glassy eyes to his face and matched his stare guiltily. "Promise me that you will not do that again."

Ryan licked his lips, swallowed painfully, and averted his gaze. "Sandy…"

"You weren't just hurting us, Ryan." Sandy interrupted. "You were hurting yourself. You made yourself sicker, do you realize that? For a moment Kirsten and I were trying to decide whether or not to take you to the emergency room…"

"No." Ryan's voice pleaded suddenly. "Please…no, I don't want to go back to the hospital. Please, I promise, just please don't make me go back." His voice hitched, his eyes wide and fearful.

Sandy's heart broke a little, and he hated himself for what he was about to say. He knew he was playing dirty pool, but he had to make this clear. "Then you promise me that you won't leave again?" Sandy said firmly, locking eyes with his foster son.

Ryan nodded.

"Promise me." Sandy repeated, giving him a small shake.

"I promise." Ryan whispered, blue eyes blinking up at Sandy hopefully.

Sandy sighed, nodded slightly, and managed a slight smile. "Good boy." He said gently, giving his arm a final squeeze before letting him go, and sitting back on his heels. He wrapped his arms around himself briefly, and stared out at the window for a moment. The storm passing over was showing no signs of letting up, and the chill from outside was seeping into the house. Sandy briefly wondered if they had forgotten to shut the front door on their way in.

Kirsten glanced at her husband once before settling herself more directly in Ryan's view, and in that quick change, Sandy could tell that his foster son had withdrawn slightly again. "Are you alright, honey? Do you feel okay?" She asked, her voice soft and controlled as she kept brushing her fingers through his hair.

With a tight smile, Ryan nodded. "I'm fine." He replied quietly.

Practically forgotten a few feet away, Seth made a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff in his throat, his eyes glued to his shoes, his expression defeated.

Kirsten's eyes narrowed. "Seth." Her voice warned sternly. "Don't start."

"Really, Kirsten. I'm okay." Ryan assured her from where he lay on the couch. He cleared his throat and coughed, his voice slightly scratchy. "I'm just really tired."

Kirsten nodded and gave him a warm smile, but here eyes were still full of concern. "I'm worried that you've made yourself worse, honey. You've got a fever…well, worse than it was before. Maybe taking you to the hospital wouldn't be such a bad idea…"

"No." Ryan all but gasped, reaching for her hand and holding it tightly. His blue eyes pleaded with her silently.

With a reluctant sigh, Kirsten nodded again. "Alright." She gave in, kissing his forehead. "I guess we'll let you get your rest. I'll bring you in some tea, okay sweetie? And some Tylenol. Let's see if we can bring that fever down on our own." She suggested, offering one last smile and a squeeze of his hand before she got to her feet. "Let's let Ryan get some sleep." She gestured towards the kitchen.

Sandy watched Seth nod, his lips pressed into a thin line as he allowed himself to make eye contact with his foster brother for a brief, silent moment, his hand raising in a slight wave as he started to leave the room.

Marissa glanced at Ryan nervously, her arms wrapped around her midsection tightly as she gathered courage to flash him a brave smile. She walked up to his bedside and reached for his hand. He gave it to her, and they seemed both awkward and relieved when the contact was made, their eyes holding each other's gaze for a few long moments. Then she gave him another teary smile and pulled away. "I'll see you later, okay?" she told him quietly.

Ryan gave a tiny nod. "Okay."

Sandy was the last one standing beside the couch, and he looked down at the pale teenager and tried to smile. He was dismayed when Ryan, once again, had lowered his gaze to the floor. Sandy sighed, and reached down to squeeze his shoulder. "We'll talk later, Ryan." He said, his own voice suddenly sounding tired. When Ryan said nothing more, he turned to join the others as they walked out of the room.

Ryan's voice stopped him cold in his tracks. "You shouldn't have gone looking for me."

Feeling a lump lodge itself in his throat, Sandy looked at his wife when she turned around, her eyes full of desperation and fresh tears. Seth swallowed audibly, and Sandy saw his hands roll into fists at his sides. None of them had been expecting that.

Sandy squared his shoulders and turned around, summoning whatever strength he could as he made his way back to the couch and sat down at the edge of a cushion. Ryan was still looking down, but even with his head bowed Sandy could still see the tears in his eyes. Sandy didn't ask why he said what he did. After the conversation that afternoon, he had a good enough idea. Instead he just sat close at his side and waited.

But Ryan said nothing, and didn't look up.

Reaching out tentatively, he cupped the back of the teenager's neck with a gentle hand. "Ryan." He said softly.

When slowly, Ryan lifted his head and looked at Sandy with wide, timid eyes, barely holding back his tears, Sandy was sure his heart was permanently broken. Holding back his own emotions, he forced words past his tight throat. "Ryan, we will always look for you. There will never come a time when we will let you go. Or leave you." His voice was shaking, but he couldn't have controlled it if he tried. "You're a part of this family, and families don't let go of the ones they love, no matter what. We love you, and that will never, ever change. It doesn't matter if something difficult comes up and complicates things for a while. And if you push us away because you're scared of what that means, we're still not going to fade." Sandy reached out his other hand to gently wipe away the tears that fell steadily down Ryan's cheeks with the pad of his thumb. "And we're not going to let you fade, either."

Ryan's lower lip trembled, and right before Sandy's eyes, the boy's defenses crumbled. A muted sob tore from his throat, and his body made a weak gesture at leaning forward, closer to his foster father. Immediately, brokenly, Sandy reached out and gathered his son into his arms, feeling hot tears soak the shoulder of his shirt. He held him tightly, a hand resting in his tousled blonde hair as he felt Ryan's fists clench tightly at his back, grabbing handfuls of his shirt like anchors, hanging on for dear life.

Outside the weather screamed its protest and pounded against the roof, rivulets of water cascading down the windows. In his arms, Ryan wasn't shivering anymore, and Sandy didn't feel so cold. The storm wasn't over yet, but now the rain had come and was slowly washing everything away, and breaking up the clouds. Even the wind was letting up.

Tomorrow, maybe, it would be sunny again.


Marissa stirred in her third spoonful of sugar into the light brown mixture of her coffee, glancing up nervously to see if either Seth or Sandy had noticed. They were eagerly sipping their own concoctions, both drinks much darker than her own. She didn't have the heart to tell them that she wasn't much of a coffee drinker – unless it was steamed to perfection and loaded with decedent flavors like vanilla and caramel. She sipped at her own anyway, ignoring the bitterness. It wasn't so bad. Anything warm felt good right now.

"Marissa, you cold?" Sandy asked, and she looked up to see her watching her from across the kitchen table. "Want a sweatshirt or something?" He was already getting up, disappearing from the room only to return seconds later with a large grey hoodie that reminded her of her dad's.

Gratefully, she accepted the offering and pulled it on, the front proudly displaying 'Berkley' in bold letters. "Thank you." She said with a smile.

Sandy waved her away. "No worries. Besides, I saw that your USC sweater was currently occupied." He gave her a knowing look and she smiled, averting her eyes. Sandy nodded to the one she had on. "That baby got me through some rough times. Ryan's been wearing it more often than me, these days."

Marissa nodded as he spoke, and waited until Sandy started talking to Seth before she lowered her nose to the soft grey fabric, closing her eyes and breathing in. God, it smelled like Ryan. Suddenly her chest hurt and her eyes pricked with fresh tears. Blinking them away, she reached for her cup of coffee and took another small sip.

"Well, he's asleep." Kirsten walked into the room quietly, heading directly for the coffee maker and retrieving a mug of her own. Marissa watched her for a moment, and realized that the older woman looked very tired. Inconspicuously she glanced at the other members of the Cohen clan from behind the rim of her cup. They all looked tired.

Seth craned his neck as his mother came around to join the others at the table. "He gonna be okay?" He asked worriedly.

Kirsten nodded. "I think so." She said, smiling at her son and covering his hand with her own, giving it a brief squeeze. "His fever went down a little. And he's keeping down his medicine, so that's always a good sign. I'll call Dr. Collins tomorrow, let him know what happened." She said, as if she were mentally checking thins off in her head.

Seth's mouth twitched, and his eyes stayed glued on a spot on the table. "That's not…not quite what I meant." He said, and paused. "I mean is Ryan going to be okay…now? I mean, does he trust us now? This 'don't help me' bullshit is over and done with?"

Sandy's eyes narrowed. "Seth…"

"Right, right, language." Seth muttered sarcastically. "But, dad, answer the question." He somewhat begged.

Though Marissa didn't have a clue as to what they were talking about, she awaited Sandy's reply just as anxiously. "I don't think Ryan will ever be totally secure with some of the things we're used to, Seth. It's just the way he was raised, he doesn't understand. Having people care that much…some part of him will always be afraid that one wrong move and we'll send him packing." He finished his sentence with a sad shake of his head, and wrapped both hands around his coffee cup, lost in thought. "But to answer your question, Seth, yeah, we turned a corner today, I think. Now at least he's beginning to understand…we're not going to let him go."

Marissa stared at Sandy. "He said something to me at the beach." She said, breaking the brief moment of silence. All eyes rested on her. "He said he didn't want you to come after him because it would be better that way…and that he couldn't go home because he had to make you understand." Marissa looked up at the Cohens. "Understand what? What's going on with him? I've never seen him like this before." She said softly, her eyes wandering out towards the hall.

Sandy sighed. "Minutes before Ryan disappeared from the pool house, Ryan finally revealed to Seth and I why he's been so…scared to let us help him." He began hesitantly.

A frown creased Marissa's forehead. "Scared?" She asked, confused. "What do you mean? Ryan adores you guys, it doesn't make any sense."

"He's been pushing us away since day one." Seth interjected, his eyes finally lifting from the table to look directly at Marissa. His expression was as serious as she had ever seen him look before. "Very long story, but essentially Ryan's got this 'too good for help' vibe that's been going on for weeks now…"

"It's not like that, Seth." Kirsten jumped in, giving him a scolding look. "You know that. He was scared. Terrified even."

Marissa shook her head. "But of what?"

"That we'll abandon him." Sandy replied, drawing Marissa's eyes to his in surprise. "He told us he's afraid that we'll get sick of taking care of him, and up and leave him just like his mom did…"

"Just like everyone else in his life." Seth finished for his dad, and Marissa found him staring at her with an accusing look in his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. His words made Marissa flinch as if she'd been slapped and she had to look away, feeling the familiar pangs of guilt that had plagued her constantly over the past couple weeks. Only this time in shockingly high intensity.

"Seth." Kirsten hissed at her son.

Marissa swallowed hard. "No. It's okay. He's right." She began shakily, still unable to look anyone in the eye. She felt tears rise to her eyes but was determined not to fall apart. "I know I haven't handled any of this well. At all."

"Hey, hey. If anyone gets to play the guilt card, it's me. Don't you dare take that away from me." Sandy teased her, somewhat seriously, and Marissa managed a small smile. "If you want to join the club, I'll look into it. I am the founding member, after all." He sighed, and all the humor disappeared from his voice. "I've just been feeding his fears, really. He's afraid we'll abandon him and that's exactly what I've been doing." Sandy's voice lowered sadly, his expression pained and defeated.

Kirsten stared at her husband. "Sandy…you never 'abandoned' him." She countered.

Dramatically, Seth scratched his temple and cocked his head to one side, looking at his mother dramatically. "I'm sorry, then what exactly would you call it, mom?" He asked, stopping and considering the question himself. Then he stopped and dropped his hands to his lap, sighing. "Look, I don't want to have this fight again. With any of you." He paused then and locked eyes with Marissa and Kirsten, as well.

"Then don't." Sandy spoke calmly, evenly. "We realize what we've done. We've all made mistakes, Seth…"

"And now's the time to fix them? Without hiding at work, letting Caleb Nichol bully you to the office, or drowning in a bottle of vodka?" Seth's words came in a rush, and when he was finished, everyone looked breathless. Pushing back his chair and getting hurriedly to his feet, Seth rested his hand on the back of his seat. "I'm going to…go check on Ryan." He mumbled, and disappeared from the room.

Once he was gone, Marissa slumped back in her chair and ducked her head, feeling guilt and embarrassment turn her cheeks red hot. After long moments of uncomfortable silence, she glanced up nervously, and was surprised to see Sandy and Kirsten with expressions that mirrored her own.

Letting out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding, Marissa finished the last of her coffee and started to stand. "Well, I'd better get next door…my mom is probably flying off the handle wondering where I am." She began uncomfortably, seeing the gentle smiles both the Cohens gave her. She looked at Sandy. "Thanks for the coffee, Mr. Cohen…and the sweatshirt. I'll wash it for you."

"Hey, hang on to it as long as you want, kiddo." Sandy told her with a wave as she started to leave the table. "And hey, Marissa?" he called

Marissa turned around again to face him.

He looked so tired, relieved, and sad that Marissa wanted to give him a hug. "Thanks. For bringing Ryan back." He tried to smile. "We…we don't know what we would've done without you." Sandy said seriously.

Feeling her throat close up, Marissa managed a nod as she walked to the kitchen doors. Then she stopped and half-turned again, her blue eyes shifting between Sandy and Kirsten nervously. "Could you tell Ryan that I'll be by tomorrow?" She asked politely.

Kirsten smiled at her warmly and nodded. "Sure, sweetie."

"And…tell him I'm sorry." Marissa found herself saying, the words coming forward before she had a chance to realize she was speaking them. "For everything."

Another smile and nod, and a look in Kirsten's eyes that gave her confidence. "We will." Kirsten told her, the look in her eyes full of surprise, and also pride. "I'm sure he already knows."

Marissa nodded and waved, and after a final goodbye, she stepped back outside into the cold. The wind blew a few light raindrops into her face, and she reached back to pull the hood of the sweatshirt over her head. Then taking a deep breath, she trotted across the patio, heading towards the street. The sweatshirt kept her warm, and she hardly felt the breeze as it blew past her. She'd give it back as promised, but maybe in a few days.


Turning off the hall lights as he made his way down the corridor, Sandy sighed as finished his walk through of the house, making sure all doors were locked and all occupants were in their beds. When he had ducked his head into the guestroom, Ryan had been sleeping soundly. Sandy just hoped his fever would stay down, and maybe things could go right, for once.

As he finished his rounds and started down the hall to the bedroom, he passed by the door to Seth's room and saw the light washing out from under the closed door. As he leaned in closer, he heard soft, mellow music playing from inside. Gently, he rapped on the door with his knuckle.

"Yeah?" Seth's quiet voice replied.

Taking the liberty, Sandy turned the knob and stepped inside. Seth was stretched out on his bed, arms pillowed behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. He was still fully clothed. "Hey." Sandy said as he walked further into the room and sat down on the end of the mattress. "You're still up."

Seth nodded. "Yeah. Not tired." He said softly and sighed. "It's late, though. Why are you awake still? Usually you and the sun share a pretty similar time table."

Sandy shrugged. "Not tired." He parroted, and grinned at his son. "You've been holed up here the whole evening, you didn't even come down for dinner…your mother was so shocked we considered taking you to the hospital." He smirked, and reveled in the smile that appeared on his son's face.

"I wasn't very hungry." Seth replied neutrally.

Nodding silently, Sandy remained quiet and waited. If he knew his son at all, and he liked to think that he did, silence and a bit of time was all it took for Seth Cohen to start talking again.

He wasn't let down. "Look, dad." Seth started awkwardly, pulling his hands out from behind his head and sitting up on the bed. "I'm sorry. About before. What I said to you and mom and Marissa…I was head jerk. Ruler, even. Anyway, the point is I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone off on you like that." He said, and looked up at his dad for a response.

Sandy nodded, thinking of a good response. "Well…" He began, and then sighed, and settled for honesty. "It's not as if you were way off target." He said, meeting his son's gaze with a resigned one of his one.

Seth snorted. "But it's not as if I'm perfect or anything." He retorted, staring at the wall across from the bed. "Ryan's pissed at me as it is. I think he has been from day one. The hovering…I don't do well with space. And by space, I mean giving it." Seth shrugged.

"Yes, but Ryan doesn't do well with accepting help. As we've all learned quite well today." Sandy sighed, his posture slouching as he let his hands fold in his lap. "But I don't think 'pissed' is the right word. He didn't understand it, maybe. He didn't know how to respond to it."

"And…now he does?" Seth asked hopefully.

Sandy looked Seth in the eye and smiled. "How about…" he stopped and offered a grin. "He's getting there?" He let it sound like a question, one eyebrow raised.

Slowly the edges of Seth's mouth curled up into a smile, and he couldn't help but laugh at his dad's expression. He bobbed his head in approval. "Works for me." He replied.

"Good." Sandy lightly punched his son's shoulder, playfully ruffling his hair as he rested his hands on his thighs and pushed up from the bed. "I don't know about you, but I could go for a salt bagel and cream cheese shmear right about now." He said, gesturing towards the door.

Seth rolled his eyes. "Lord. I thought you'd never ask." He exclaimed, leaping up from the bed and bounding towards the hallway. "My stomach was beginning to take on a mind of its own. For a second I thought one of those aliens was gonna pop out of my chest and create its own environment in my closet."

"Well, tame the beast son, because we have to venture past Ryan's door." Sandy held a finger to his lips and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Quietly."

Seth rolled his eyes. "Father, do you know who you're talking to?" he asked dramatically as they left the room and headed down the darkened stairwell. "Have I not mentioned the word 'stealth' to you recently?"

A knock on her door woke Marissa from a day dream as she tore her eyes away from the ceiling and sat up in bed. Three guesses as to who would be on the other side. "What?" She asked with an exasperated sigh.

"Marissa, sweetie?" Her mother's irritating voice trilled in from the hallway, and within minutes Julie had the door open and was standing at the foot of the bed, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on her face. "There you are, honey. I didn't hear you come in. Where have you been all day?" She asked, sitting down beside her daughter.

Purposely, Marissa shifted away from her. "The beach." She replied simply, giving her mother an impatient look.

"On a day like this? Marissa, you're insane. Do you know what that weather will do to your hair?" Julie sighed with a disgusted look. Then her expression turned thoughtful as she regarded Marissa's outfit with a critical eye. "Sweetie, where on earth did you get that sweatshirt? It's so…Eight Mile." She shuddered.

Marissa wrapped her arms around herself and glared at her mother. "It's Sandy Cohen's, mom." She rolled her eyes and prayed that for once, Julie Cooper would take a hint and leave her alone. "What do you want?" She snapped.

"No need to get bitchy, all I wanted was to have a normal conversation with my daughter." Julie defended herself, glaring hard and crossing her arms. She reached out to the bedside table and picked up a framed picture of Marissa and Ryan, studying it with a critical eye. "Just wanted to let you know that we'll leave for Cardio Bar at ten tomorrow morning."

Snatching the photograph out of her mother's hands and hugging it to her chest, Marissa made a noise of disgust. "Fine. But I'm not going." She countered and stared at the wall.

Julie chuckled. "Yes, you are."

"Or what?"

"Or you're not allowed to go to the Cohens this week." Julie replied right away, blue eyes flashing and a smile playing across her lips. She knew she had hit a nerve. It didn't matter that Julie had no idea what problems had been going on between her daughter and her boyfriend or that Marissa hadn't been to see Ryan nearly as often as she used to. Today the threat had the desired affect. "Two can play at this game, sweetie."

Taking away her cell phone, or making her spend another night, those were punishments Marissa could handle. But she had promised Ryan that she'd be back tomorrow. There was no way in hell she was going back on her word. "Fine."

Julie's face erupted into a satisfied grin. "Great! Remember, ten, okay? Be ready." She stood from the bed and breezed to the door, stopping briefly to turn around. "And honey, I'm not going to ask why you're wearing Sandy Cohen's sweatshirt, but promise me that you'll take it off. Soon."

Once the door was shut, Marissa's anger ran rampant and she grabbed the nearest object – Share Bear – and hurled it at the solid wood with a frustrated growl. She picked up the photo of her and Ryan that had fallen to her lap and replaced it carefully on her bedside table. When she saw the happy looks on both their faces, she felt a familiar pang of sadness jab at her heart. And in an instant she knew what she would normally do to make that pain go away.

Angrily, she reached under the bed and hauled out the cardboard box that she had treasured. Gripping it with both arms, she stormed across the room and swung the door open, letting it slam against the wall. In seconds she was at the sink in the bathroom across the hall. Picking up the first bottle of vodka on top, she didn't hesitate as she unscrewed the lid and turned it upside down over the sink. She watched with a silent satisfaction as the clear liquid washed slowly down the drain.

One by one she went through the same process until the box was filled with empty bottles. That done, she returned to her room.


The phone rang early the next morning. Kirsten had gotten up at the crack of dawn – even before Sandy, for what had to be the first time in her life – and donned her bathrobe and clad her feet in slippers. As she had been creeping as quietly as possible down the hall, passed Seth's door, on her way to Ryan's guest room, the shrill ring of the telephone had resonated through the house and she sighed, stopping briefly before spinning on her heel and running down the stairs to the kitchen. The last thing everyone needed was to be woken this early.

As she grabbed the portable handset off the counter, she prayed that whoever was calling at this ungodly hour would make it fast. She hadn't been in to check on Ryan since a little after midnight when she had finally allowed herself to go to sleep. His fever wasn't rising and he seemed to be resting peacefully. Kirsten just hoped that their good luck hadn't run out yet. She'd heard him coughing a few times in the middle of the night, and felt her stomach tense up just at the thought of him getting a cold right now.

"Hello?" She said into the mouthpiece impatiently.

"Kiki?" Her father's familiar baritone replied on the other end, and Kirsten cringed. She should have known. "You sound out of breath. Did I catch you at a bad time?"

Kirsten sighed. "Well, actually dad, I was just going to check on Ryan, so…"

"Good. I got you just in time, then." He said triumphantly. "I just wanted to go over some of the details for this latest model home. You'll be here soon, yes?"

Rubbing her forehead, Kirsten closed her eyes and willed her temper to keep in check. "Dad, now really isn't a good time. Ryan's been sick recently…" She stopped and wondered why she even bothered. "We're not meeting until three today. We can go over it then." She said, trying to sound dismissive.

"Didn't you get my message? I've changed my mind. I want us to meet in my office in an hour."

Kirsten felt her patience waning. "I can't do that, dad. I can't leave right now. I shouldn't even leave at all today."

There was a pause, and she listened to her father's deep breathing. "Because of the boy?" he asked lowly.

"Yes, because of Ryan, dad." She snapped. "I need to be here to take care of him."

"We've discussed this already, Kirsten." Caleb growled at her through the phone. "I knew this would interfere with your work. You need to get your priorities in order."

So much for keeping her temper in check. Kirsten felt it ignite, and her courage was fueled. "Oh, my priorities are in perfect order, dad." She said snidely. "My family is at the top. And Ryan is my family. And right now, you couldn't be farther at the bottom. So you can just have that meeting without me."

"Kirsten, I told you what I'd have to do if it came down to this." Her father warned, his voice mounting in volume, booming at her through the receiver. "I told you what would happen." He said, his words venomous.

Kirsten gave sarcastic chuckle. "What, you'll fire me?" She asked, gripping the phone tighter. "Well then what the hell are you waiting for, dad?" She only listened to the stunned silence on the other end for a millisecond before hitting the end button and slamming the receiver down on the counter.


Sandy Cohen was content. He was watching TV, had an ice cold beer in his hand, the sun was setting, the house was quiet, and for the first time in a long time, it had been a really, really good day.

Granted, there wasn't much of anything interesting on any of the four hundred channels at the moment, but even that couldn't hold a candle to his good mood. The day had been relatively peaceful, what with Seth spending the day with Summer and Sandy getting to have Kirsten all to himself. He'd never been so proud of her when she'd regaled him with the tale of how she'd told off her father. She hadn't gone to work the whole day, and the best part was that it didn't even seem to bother her. So they'd spent the morning together leisurely drinking cups of coffee and sharing sections of the paper, kissing and smiling at each other from across the counters. Seth had been disgusted. Things felt normal. Things felt good.

Kirsten wasn't the only one he was proud of. Marissa had shown up true to her word at eleven thirty and didn't go home until five. She and Ryan spent the day in the living room talking, watching TV, and then talking some more. At first they sat side by side, unsure, not touching, and looking like a couple of awkward teenagers. But when Sandy had walked in no more than an hour or so later, Marissa had been relaxed against the cushions, Ryan's head pillowed in her lap, gazing at each other as she said something that made him smile. And even though Sandy hadn't heard a word of it, he'd been smiling from ear to ear, as well.

Now the TV was just a little soothing background noise as Sandy gazed out the windows at the sky reflecting gold and blue light across the ocean. The peace was almost unnerving. Seth was still at Summer's and Kirsten had made a last minute milk and cold medicine run to the grocery store.

Ryan's fever had let up slightly, but when Marissa had gone home and Ryan had come in to the kitchen before going back up to bed, he'd confessed that he wasn't feeling all that well. And though he tried to deny it, his cough was getting worse. In addition to the usual list of symptoms, the kid had to be feeling absolutely rotten.

As the thought finished, Sandy sighed and put down his beer. That had effectively broken the peace. Turning off the TV, he got up from the couch and started for the stairs. He had checked on Ryan not more that fifteen minutes ago and the teenager had been fast asleep, but something wasn't sitting right. Sandy quickened his pace until he was outside the quiet bedroom door.

When he stepped inside the darkened room, he could immediately tell that something was wrong. The bed was empty and the room was silent. Immediately panic coursed through his veins, and Sandy wanted to run out of the room screaming and yelling. But he forced himself to stop, calm down, and listen.

The sound of the toilet flushing behind the closed bathroom door sent a wave of relief through his system so intense, Sandy nearly fainted. Striding quickly to the door, he knocked. "Ryan?"

"Yeah." The teenager's exhausted voice came through. He coughed. "I'm alright, Sandy." He said after a moment.

Sandy pushed the door open and immediately got to his knees beside Ryan on the cool bathroom tile. "You okay, kid?" He asked worriedly. The boy was pale and shivering, slumped against the wall at his back. Sandy had seen him like this more times than he cared to remember. But Ryan usually waved him off and said he'd be out in a minute. And usually it worked.

But it was time to try something different.

Ryan nodded wearily. "Just…sick." He relented, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he stared at Sandy critically, eyeing him narrowly. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Sandy flushed slightly, suddenly embarrassed. "Me? I'm fine." He said, laughing a little at his own expense. He could still feel his heart pounding in his chest. "Just…when I came in here you weren't in your bed, and it was way too quiet…"

Ryan's eyes widened in realization. "You thought I'd taken off again." He stated quietly.

"But you didn't." Sandy said instantly. "And you're not going to."

After a brief moment of silence in which Ryan's eyes never left Sandy's, he nodded, and gave a kind of tight-lipped smile, his expression thoughtful. "Right." His voice was almost at a whisper.

When they were quiet again and Ryan looked away, closing his eyes, Sandy saw another shudder run through his thin frame and his brows furrowed in concern. "You're not alright." He said, reaching out a hand and placing it on Ryan's forehead. "You're still not hot, which is good. But you're nauseous?" he asked gently, studying the boy's face.

"I'm alright." Ryan replied, even though he shuddered again. And Sandy absently realized that it wasn't because he was cold. "Could you, um…I do need another painkiller, though. Please." He said through tightly clenched teeth, looking at Sandy hopefully.

For the second time that day, Sandy's heart broke. "Of course, kid." He pushed up from the floor, cursing old bones, and filled a tumbler with water from the sink. He quickly found an extra bottle of Ryan's medicine in the cabinet above the faucets and shook out two pills.

"Thank you." Ryan said softly as he quickly swallowed the capsules Sandy transferred into his hand.

Sandy watched him for a few moments, feeling a strange kick in his chest just at the sight. With a small, quiet sigh, he reached out and touched Ryan's shoulder, gently. "Come on." He said softly, waiting until Ryan opened his eyes again. "Let's get you back to bed."

Ryan looked like he wanted to protest, but when Sandy reached down and held him under his arms, he clamped his mouth shut and soon was on his feet. With his foster son's arm around his neck and his own arm around the teenager's lean waist, Sandy managed to walk them slowly out of the bathroom and the short distance to the bed. Ryan resisted only slightly, but Sandy could tell that he was in too much pain to let his pride make any decisions on the matter.

"There…" Sandy spoke soothingly as he lowered Ryan down, pulled back blankets, fluffed pillows, and fussed incessantly. He tucked the covers up around Ryan's shoulders and saw two blue eyes staring back at him, watching his every move. "Can I get you anything else, kid?" he asked gently.

Ryan shook his head. "No. I'll be okay." He said, and offered a slight smile. "Thanks, Sandy." He added hesitantly, after a beat.

Sandy squeezed his hand. "No problem." He said, returning the smile with a more confident one of his own. Then he stood. "Kirsten should be home soon. We'll find something for dinner and bring it up, okay? It'll be like a picnic." He turned around after exchanging one more look and headed towards the door.

He heard Ryan shift in bed, and then a tiny, barely perceptible whimper caught Sandy off guard, and he stopped in his tracks. He turned around and switched on the lamp by the bed. Ryan's eyes were clamped closed and he was biting his lip to keep back any further noises. Wordlessly, Sandy sat down beside him and wrapped an arm around his trembling shoulders. "You're okay, kid." He said to him softly. "Just breathe through it."

Sandy could see the muscles working in his foster son's jaw as he nodded. "I know." He wheezed. "It just…hurts." His voice had dropped to a pained whisper.

Sitting up higher, Sandy pulled Ryan more fully into his arms, holding him as gently as he could. "We just have to wait for the medicine to kick in." He said soothingly, feeling Ryan turn his neck and bury his face against Sandy's chest. "Kirsten is always good at making the pain go away, right kid?" he asked suddenly.

He felt Ryan's head nod against his shirt.

"She can usually make you fall right to sleep. What does she do?" he asked himself aloud, staring down at the top of Ryan's head. Sighing, he willed back the burning in his eyes. "I know she does this." He gently ran his fingers through Ryan's hair, pushing his bangs away from his forehead with a soothing touch. He smiled slightly as he instantly felt some of the tension in Ryan's body melt away, and he slackened against him.

It got very quiet again, and in that moment time seemed to stop. Sandy listened as Ryan's calculated, shallow breathing began to taper and relax, and soon the steady, even breaths told him that he had fallen asleep. But Sandy didn't let him go, and he didn't stop his hand's sweeping motion through Ryan's dark blonde hair. Seth would hate this, he realized. In fact, Ryan in his usual form would hate it, too. Or at least be embarrassed by it. They'd have to keep it just between the two of them, then

As he eased a pillow gently under Ryan's head, Sandy checked his watch and smiled to himself. Ryan had fallen asleep in under two minutes. As he reached over to turn off the lamp, he wondered why he had thought it would be so hard. This was way easier than he thought.


For the bazillionth time that night, Seth gave an exasperated sigh and gave an energized kick of his legs to push the blankets off the end of the bed, flipping onto his back and staring at the ceiling.

This sucks, he thought to himself in frustration. When he checked the digital clock next to his head it was going on two in the morning. He definitely wasn't going to get any sleep tonight.

Sitting up he hit the switch on the wall and blinked several hundred times to let his eyes adjust to the harsh change in lighting. He was really regretting that night time espresso he'd had at that uppity café with Summer. That really had not been the brightest move. Now his eyes were as wide as saucers and he couldn't even convince himself that it was late and he should sleep. There was no way in hell his body was going to put up with that crap.

Swinging his legs to the side, he looked around the room and pondered his next move. He could go down stairs and have a glass of milk…or watch some late night TV and hope to either doze off or be bored to death. Either seemed like a desirable option at that point.

Getting up and heading out to the hall, Seth glanced briefly through the darkness to the doorway of Ryan's room. Normally, in the pre-cancer days, Seth would have no problem waking up his brother and demanding entertainment. But now he knew better. Ryan always needed his rest.

But suddenly he heard the shifting of springs and a heavy sigh. On a whim, Seth propelled himself forward and pushed the door the rest of the way open, stepping into the eerily dark room. Light from a window across from the bed barely illuminated Ryan sitting up against a stack of pillows, but upon closer inspection Seth could clearly see that his best friend's eyes were open.

"Ryan." He whispered, hoping he wouldn't startle him too much. "You're still awake, man."

Immediately Ryan's head turned and he squinted back at Seth in the darkness. "Seth?" There was a rustle of blankets and Ryan pushed himself up slightly, leaning against the headboard. "What are you doing up? It's like, two in the morning." He rubbed his eyes and blinked at Seth a few times.

"I know…I can't sleep. Too much caffeine with Summer. The woman is a coffee nut, dude." He said, suddenly uncomfortable as he shifted his weight to his other leg and cleared his throat. "What's your excuse?" he thought for a moment and became concerned. "Your back bugging you? Dad said you were really hurting earlier. Do you need another painkiller?" He tried to sound helpful, not overbearing.

Ryan sighed and lay back down. When he spoke, there was something about his voice that made Seth startle. He'd never heard Ryan sound so…sad. "I just…can't sleep." He said after a pause. "Got a lot on my mind, I guess."

After a moment of hesitation, Seth closed the door and felt his way through the dark, reaching the bed and sitting down on the corner. He could see Ryan better, and saw that his brother was watching him intently. "Brooding Ryan Atwood? Now that's a new one." Seth joked, achieving a small smile from Ryan. "So spill. I'm listening." He said thoughtfully.

Ryan still looked at him as if surprised that Seth was paying any attention to him at all. But after a moment his gaze flicked away, looking out the window, and he started speaking. "I don't know…" He began. "It's everything, I guess. Marissa came over today…did you know that?" he asked, looking at Seth.

"Yep. Summer told me." Seth replied. "That's a good sign, I mean, right? She's trying now. Like, really trying. So that's…great, man." He knew he sounded unsure. But for some reason that he didn't want to try and figure out, he couldn't read Ryan at all right now.

But Ryan nodded, and his eyes softened. "Yeah." He said quietly. "It is great."

Seth bobbed his head, slightly uncomfortable. "So…there must be something else, right? Because Marissa Cooper being happy is a little unnerving, but I don't think it would cause sleep deprivation." He said sarcastically. "Give me something to work with, Ry. What's bugging you? Besides me."

Ryan grinned at him for a moment before it faded. He looked out the window again and silently shook his head.

Smacking his lips together, Seth shrugged. "Okaaaay…" he began, thinking. "Well, are you perhaps thinking about what happened yesterday?" he asked hesitantly.

He was surprised when Ryan nodded, still not looking at him. "Yeah, I guess so." He said softly, his eyes practically losing focus as they stared out at the ocean. Then they lapsed into silence again, both of them lost in thought. It seemed like ages that they sat there, not saying anything, barely even breathing.

Seth's voice surprised both of them. "Why did you run away?" He asked, staring at Ryan's face.

His eyes were glassy as he continued to gaze out the window. "Don't know." He whispered.

Looking at his foster brother skeptically, Seth scoffed. "Sure you do."

There was a long pause, and Seth watched brokenly as a stray tear slipped from the corner of Ryan's eye and tracked down his cheek. Quickly he lifted a hand and brushed it away, as if hoping that Seth wouldn't have noticed. He cleared his throat before he spoke, but his voice still cracked. "I was scared." He said quietly, swallowing hard. "And I don't just mean about letting you guys take care of me."

For a moment that felt like years, Seth just didn't understand, until it hit him like a slap in the face. For the first time since day one, Ryan was admitting that he was afraid of the cancer. And even while Seth felt a burst of relief over the fact that it had finally been discovered, a pang of sadness and fear hit him just as hard, if not harder. Seth shook his head. "Please don't be scared. I mean, I know you'd be a complete statue if you weren't, but please…don't be." He found himself saying, and Ryan finally looked at him, his eyes brimming with tears. "I can be scared enough for the both of us, how about that? 'Cause I am, no doubt about it. And then you can not be scared, I'll be the terrified little girl, and the 'rents will make sure all is well, and pretty soon I promise that you will get better." He blurted in one long breath.

Ryan smiled at him almost sympathetically. "It doesn't work like that, Seth." He whispered.

"Whatever. It doesn't matter, just…I know you're scared, but don't do any thing stupid again, okay? Because there will only be so many times when Marissa is wandering the beach in a windstorm, ready to save you." He paused. "Marissa…saving you…whoa, who'd have ever thought those two things would ever go together. I can't even tell you how wrong that is."

Ryan chuckled slightly. "I won't run away again, Seth. I promise." He said softly, looking at Seth seriously, and Seth knew he meant it. "But…"

"But you're still scared." Seth finished for him. Then he sighed and shrugged. He reached out and put a gentle hand on Ryan's forearm. "Well, don't be, bro. Not so much, anyway. Because it'll be over soon." Just saying it made him feel better. He hoped it had the same effect on his foster brother.

Swallowing again, Ryan nodded and managed a watery smile. "Thanks." He said quietly, looking away after a moment. He swiped the back of his hand across his eyes. "You should go back to bed. It's really late." He said, breaking the silence.

Seth nodded. "You're right. 'Night, dude." He said, pushing up from the bed. Then after about half a second, he sat back down. "Or, you know, I don't have to. I could camp out here, do the sleepover thing. Your call entirely."

Ryan's eyes looked so surprised, almost overjoyed as he stared back at Seth in complete awe for a few moments. Then he gave a tiny, grateful smile and wordlessly scooted sideways, making more room on the left side of the bed.

"Cool." Seth said as he splayed down on the mattress, shifting a restlessly until he found a comfortable position. He rolled onto his side and quirked an eyebrow at his foster brother playfully. "But, you know, you're kinda on my side of the bed, so if you don't mind switching…"

Ryan silenced him with a smack to his chest. "Good night, Seth." He said, and closed his eyes.

Seth sighed. "'Night." He said back, taking one of the extra, folded blankets from the end of the bed and spreading it over himself. Closing his eyes contentedly, he smiled into the darkness. This was definitely alright. Just so long as they both weren't under the same covers.

That would be minty.


AN: Hope it was good. I was extremely tempted to break it into two separate chapters, but didn't on a whim. So tell me what you thought. Cheers!

-Vancouverite