A/N: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! I'm a bad author. It won't happen again. Just enjoy, discuss, and review. I'll have the next chapter up as soon as humanly possible, promise.
FADING – Chapter Twenty-One
Thursday Night
Seth's eyes roved the buffet table hungrily, scanning the plates and platters filled with food that covered every surface. As his stomach rumbled as if on cue, he picked up a ceramic dish and silently thanked Julie Cooper for having impeccable taste in appetizers.
A small hand touched his elbow and trailed its way down his arm to grasp his hand. Seth turned his head to the side and saw Summer beside him, grinning devilishly. "Hey, Cohen." She purred, and sidled up closer beside him.
With the hand not cradling his precious plate, Seth let his right roam across the soft skin of her bare shoulders. "Well hello there, Miss Roberts." He said, seeing the playful look in his girlfriend's eye. A playful Summer was not something to be passed up. "You're in a mighty good mood this evening. I guess parties thrown by decrepit old men really do it for you, huh?"
Raising and lowering one shoulder, Summer ran her finger up the row of buttons on his shirt and smiled a little wider. "Maybe." She replied jokingly, and then gazed at him with impossibly wide, sexy brown eyes. "Or it could just be that suit you're wearing. I've gotta say, Cohen. You look…kinda hot." She whispered the last part.
Seth felt her hand graze his upper thigh area and nearly leapt a foot in the air. He'd definitely never met this Summer before. He felt his heartbeat jack up the speed. "Uhh, well, it's a good jacket, really slimming. And the tie! The tie just pulls together the whole ensemble, you know how those things work." He rambled, feeling as though every eye in the room was watching his raging hormonal meltdown, even though he knew that none of these Newport socialites had any idea he was on the planet, let alone just about being felt up by Summer Roberts in public.
"Stop talking, Cohen. You're ruining the mood." Summer instructed, shaking her head and causing a single strand of wavy dark hair to fall across her face. "We haven't been alone together in a long time. Here's my preposition, Cohen. So listen carefully." Her breathy voice told him as she leaned in even closer.
Seth gulped as he felt the heat of her body pressed up close against his groin. "Uh, um…Summer, except we're not alone now." He replied quickly, the plate practically forgotten in his hand and teetering precariously.
Summer gave his tie a little jerk, pulling his face down to inches from hers. "I know that, genius. I've got a plan." She whispered with a roll of her eyes. "See over there?" She turned her head and pointed between the crowds where Seth could just barely see Ryan and Marissa sitting against a wall. "Coop found us some chairs. I told her I was just coming over here to get you before the seats are taken again. I'm going to go over there now, and in a minute or two you're going to follow. We'll play it cool, and then just follow my lead."
Seth barely had a chance to get in a word edgewise before Summer spun around in whirlwind of curls and perfume and disappeared from his sight. Seth swallowed and prayed with every fiber of his being that no one would notice the tent in his Armani pants. Inwardly, he made a mental note to repay Ryan for his kindness. Without his foster brother's helpful interruptions over the past few days, he may never have had this opportunity.
Minutes later he was walking towards his friends, a plate piled ridonkulously high with food, even for Seth Cohen. He'd gotten a little carried away with the crudités when thoughts of Summer's plan kept popping into his head. "Hey guys!" He greeted a little too enthusiastically, and plopped down into a seat between Ryan and Summer.
Marissa looked at him quizzically. "Um…hey, Seth." She looked at the food he had on his lap and her eyes widened. "Wow. Went a little overboard on the buffet, I see."
"Nah. Besides, it isn't all for me." Seth scoffed, and handed the plate to Ryan. "Here, buddy. Fill your boots." He clapped a hand on his foster brother's shoulder.
Ryan's voice struck Seth as kind of odd when he spoke. He was definitely a lot hoarser than the last time he'd heard him. "No thanks." He mumbled, and raised a hand to his mouth as he coughed.
Seth couldn't help but wince at the sound. Over the course of the night Ryan's cough had taken on a life of its own. It sounded deeper, and dare he say phlegm-ier. Cringing, Seth looked at his foster brother's face and was a bit taken aback. When had Ryan gotten so pale?
Marissa voiced his own thoughts. "You okay, Ryan?" She asked, her tone tinged with light worry as she rubbed a slender hand across his back.
Ryan seemed to take his time as he regained his breath, but it must have taken longer than it should have. And Seth didn't know for certain, but he could have sworn that he heard the unmistakable sound of a wheeze over the noise of laughter, talking, and music. But Ryan nodded, jerked at his collar a bit, and took a sip of his drink.
Seth felt an elbow dig into his ribs and Summer cleared her throat. "Cohen." She announced in an overly cheerful, polite tone of voice. "Weren't you just telling me that you had to go to the bathroom?"
Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Seth stared at his girlfriend crazily. But her eyes were wide and she was nodding her head. "Yes…" Be began uncertainly. "Yes, I was." He grinned in understanding and turned to Ryan and Marissa, slapping his knees with both hands. "I have to go to the bathroom, guys." He declared.
Marissa gave him another puzzled and slightly disgusted look. "Thanks for sharing, Seth." She muttered.
"Cohen, it's a really big house. And you've only been here a few times." Summer pointed out helpfully, and then stood up, grabbing Seth's hand and jerking him to his feet as well. "I better help you find it. You wouldn't want to get lost."
"Nooo." Seth agreed, shaking his head. "I definitely don't want that. No sir…or ma'am." Summer was already walking away, nearly pulling his arm out of his socket in her eagerness. Seth twisted around to grin at an awkward looking Ryan and Marissa. "Catch up with you guys in a bit." He tossed over his shoulder, and followed Summer deeper into the house. She was heading for the stairs – that had to be a good thing.
Kirsten knew her father loved a good party. And perhaps, to the untrained eye, on this particular night he probably looked pretty happy. But years of training and hands-on experience told Kirsten otherwise. She didn't miss the way he would turn away every once and a while, glare at Seth, Sandy or Ryan from across the room, and take a desperate sip of his scotch. She knew that on some level she had ruined his night, and that's when it came to her that she was not-so-secretly pleased.
"Smiling? At Caleb Nichol's house?" Sandy's low voice chided beside her ear as she felt a warm arm snake around her stomach. "Honey, that's unheard of. Stop it. You're scaring the other guests."
Grinning, Kirsten rested her head on his shoulder and tilted it back until she could see his eyes. "No wonder my dad thinks you're a laugh riot." She smirked, closing her hands around the limb wrapped tightly around her middle.
Sandy chuckled. "He said that? Kirsten, I'm touched." He drawled sarcastically, and turned them slightly away from the pool area where the heaviest parts of the crowds lingered. They stared into the slightly tinted glass and into the house, their own reflections smiling happily back at them. "So, when can we blow this popsicle stand?" He sighed hopefully.
Kirsten's eyebrows knit together slightly, and she found herself focusing more intently on the people moving around inside the house, trying to pick out familiar faces as she swept the hoards of people looking for her sons. "I don't know. I guess that technically it's up to Ryan." She shrugged. "He's the one who wanted to come. He should decide when we leave."
"How's he doing, anyway?" Sandy asked, his own eyes intently scanning the guests inside. "I keep expecting him to do something exciting. Like maybe his head will spin around." He sounded a little too thrilled at the idea.
Kirsten craned her neck and stared at him dubiously. "Sandy, Ryan didn't want to come here for the sole purpose of pissing my father off. And this isn't the Exorcist." she snorted.
There was a pause, and Sandy looked disappointed. "I know that." He mumbled, and shrugged. "I guess I kinda got my hopes up. What, with Ryan's history of making Newport parties…so much more entertaining." He gave a blissful sigh at the memory, and rested his cheek on the top of her head.
Not a moment after the words were spoken, a doubled over figure stumbled out onto the patio a mere ten feet away, panting and gasping as grating coughs tore from their throat. Kirsten felt a cold like she'd never felt before run through her as Sandy's arms slackened around her waist and they were left to stand staring as the scene played out before them.
Even though she knew it was Ryan the second he burst out the open doors, it didn't register in Kirsten's mind until Marissa came rushing out after him, a look of panic on her face as she hunched beside him, her hands hovering nervously over his back. "Ryan?"
She didn't remember Sandy breaking his hold on her, practically pushing her away as he ran towards their foster son. Kirsten certainly didn't remember propelling herself forward, but somehow she found herself beside him, her hands on his shoulders as she struggled to get him upright. She needed to see his face.
"Ryan?" Sandy's voice broke through her delirium. When Ryan finally lifted his head, Kirsten knew something was very, very wrong. He was still coughing sporadically, but every time he gasped for breath his struggle for air came out as a painful, silence-shattering wheeze that made Kirsten's heart hammer in her chest.
How had they not noticed this before?
People were staring now. Sandy was crouched beside Ryan at this point because Ryan was getting closer and closer to the ground. "Ryan, listen to me, kid. Take deep breaths." He instructed, the panic Kirsten saw on his face betrayed his calm voice. He looked up at Marissa. "What happened?"
Tears started to overflow from Marissa's wide eyes. "I don't know." She stammered. "We were inside and then he just started coughing and he said he needed some air…"
Suddenly Ryan gasped like a man drowning. Kirsten saw his eyes roll back into his head and felt her heart leap into her throat as she and her husband latched onto either of his arms as he fell to his knees before their eyes.
Up until that point, words had eluded her. But as she and Sandy guided Ryan's limp body down to lie on the polished floors, they came back in a rush. "Ryan…oh my God." Kirsten gasped, her shaking hand coming down to rest on his cheek. His skin was hot underneath the tips of her fingers, his pallor as white as she'd even seen him. She felt herself shuddering in fear as she moved on autopilot, pawing across the ground until she was able to place Ryan's head carefully in her lap. Gulping back fear, she lifted her eyes from his face. "Sandy…"
Sandy was down on his knees beside her, one hand gripping Ryan's while his other was tearing open the buttons of the teenager's collar. Ryan seemed oblivious to them, concentrating more intently on drawing in each breath. He wasn't coughing as much now, but his skin had grown even paler, if that were possible, and his eyes were squeezed tightly shut. "Ryan, open your eyes, kid." Sandy begged, staring down at the drawn, pinched face.
After a moment, Kirsten watched as Ryan made an obvious effort to pry his eyes open, staring up at Sandy looking in pain, and panicked. She watched him lock onto her husband, hold onto that contact with all the strength he had, and manage to force out a few struggling, breathless words. Kirsten only caught one of them. "Sandy…"
Her husband's head whipped to the side at lightening speed. "Somebody call 911!" He demanded, and for the first time since Ryan appeared, Sandy sounded scared. But once he was looking back down at their foster son, tightening his hold on his hand, his expression was calm. "Help is in the way, kid. Just concentrate on breathing."
For a moment Kirsten wondered who exactly Sandy had been shouting orders to, until she took the time to lift her head and saw the tightly knit crowd that had gathered around them. She didn't recognize faces, or at least they didn't register. She was mutely aware that somewhere along the way, something had gone wrong in her brain. Thoughts weren't being fully processed, instructions to bodily functions not getting received. She had to remind herself to breathe.
Ryan's head moved in her lap and she focused her eyes on his face again. "Sandy…" He gasped again. He coughed, the sound coming from deep inside his chest, and she felt him convulse against her, his eyes slamming shut again.
"It's ok, Ryan. Just breathe." Sandy pleaded, reaching up a hand to gently brush away a stray tear that had squeezed out from the corner of Ryan's eye. "Everything is going to be okay."
After that, Kirsten lost track of time, and it seemed to stop all together. She watched and vividly would remember every cough, every gasp for breath, and every terrified look, but what went on around her meant nothing. Kirsten didn't even know what she did during the excruciating minutes that passed, or if she did in fact do anything at all.
But the next time she realized that minutes had started passing again was when she heard Sandy talking to someone other than the guests at the party. He was telling this unknown person about Ryan's cancer, about treatments and doctor visits, and Kirsten didn't understand why. She decided that if she looked up and discovered just who this stranger was, it would probably make sense. But at that moment she wouldn't – no, she couldn't tear her eyes away from Ryan's face. She couldn't move her hand from Ryan's head. Something deep and primal within her restrained movements, and nothing worked. The only thing she understood were Ryan's eyes, and the fact that they were slowly, slowly falling closed as she watched him grow weaker by the minute.
"Kirsten." A hand was at her elbow, gently pulling, shaking her. "Kirsten, we have to let them work, honey."
That was her name. She was supposed to respond. Without moving her eyes an inch, Kirsten wrenched he arm free. "I'm not leaving him." She snapped, her voice sounding brittle and foreign to her own ears.
"I'm not asking you to leave, sweetheart. I just need you to get up so that the paramedics can work on Ryan." It was Sandy pulling at her, Kirsten decided. His touch felt familiar on her bare skin. "We need to let them help him. Can you do that for me?" He asked her nicely.
It was almost physically painful when Kirsten finally managed to tear her eyes from Ryan's face. But when she swiveled her head the barest amount, Sandy came into view, and he looked worried. "I…I can't leave him." She whispered brokenly, her vision suddenly obscured by a rush of tears.
"We won't, Kirsten. We'll stand right here, Ryan will be able to see us the whole time. We just need to get out of the paramedics' way so they can take care of him." He pleaded with her, and his expression softened as Kirsten felt both his hands return to her elbows, pulling her up gently. "Come on."
Kirsten forced herself to comply, letting his strong arms pull her onto her feet and pray that her legs would hold her weight. Standing a few feet away, all Kirsten could do was stand back and watch as two men dressed in uniforms set down bags and a metal stretcher, crouching down beside her son and speaking in words that she didn't understand.
When Sandy's hands returned and his arms began to wrap around her, Kirsten pushed him away and stepped to the side, keeping her eyes on the form lying on the ground. Between casting scared, nervous glances at the EMT's when they asked him questions, his eyes would flash to her and Sandy, the fear there mirroring her own.
Kirsten shivered and hugged herself, watching as one of the paramedics put an oxygen mask to Ryan's mouth, instructing him to breathe. When she heard those words, she again reminded herself to breathe, as well. Her heart was hammering in her chest a million beats per minute, and her brain struggled to keep up with what was going on around her.
She hadn't prepared for this; she wasn't ready. It wasn't fair. They hadn't come this far, he hadn't come this far, to have something happen now. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Everything was supposed to get better, that was what Kirsten had promised herself all along…it was what they had promised Ryan.
She didn't think she could watch this happen, and yet she couldn't close her eyes, either.
Seth caught Summer's reflection in the mirror on the bedside table as he worked on the buttons of his shirt. She grinned at him from where she sat on the foot of the bed, a compact mirror open in her hand as she applied a fresh coat of lipstick. "Summer." He said casually.
"Yes, Cohen?"
"Might I ask a question?" He asked coyly, finishing with the buttons and reaching for his tie which was currently lying in a heap on the carpet. At her noise of approval, he plowed on. "Why have we never done…that…before?" he asked, draping the long strip of fabric around his neck and strolling up to the side of the bed.
Summer rolled her eyes at herself in the mirror. "We do 'that' plenty often, Cohen." She remarked, and rubbed at a smear of mascara under her eye.
Seth stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked around the room. It was decorated like the rest of the house, fancy and beyond expensive. The bed had been extremely comfy. And while the only other room he'd ever seen the inside of in the Cooper house was Marissa's, he guessed that this was one of the guest rooms. He prayed to Jesus and Moses combined that Summer had more sense than to drag him into Julie Cooper's bedroom…the mere thought made him shudder. "I know that. I mean at a party."
Snapping her compact shut and giving him a look of disbelief and disgust, Summer rose to her feet. "Ew! Cohen, trouser it. If you think that this is going to be a regular occurrence, I'm going to wipe that silly grin off your face with my fists." She threatened dangerously.
"Alright, chill!" Seth soothed, holding up his hands defensively. "Can't blame a guy for trying. I've never seen you as…frisky as you were tonight. Guess it wasn't my charm and good looks after all." He pouted, sticking out his lower lip.
Summer's features softened and she leaned into him a little more. "Well, let's just say that I had an…itch I needed to scratch." She purred, reaching up to button the top of his collar and started to knot the tie around his neck. "And a certain boy from Chino kept innocently interrupting, so the itch got itchier."
Seth grinned widely. "And I scratched that itch, didn't I, Summer?" he threw his head back in delight and gave a shout of triumph. "I'm the official Itch-Scratcher of Summer Roberts." He giggled in delight.
"Cohen, shut up." Summer snapped, jerking the tie tightly until it nearly strangled him and he choked. "You sound beyond creepy."
Seth stopped squirming and allowed her to continue her job. He licked his lips and rolled his neck, feeling the rumbling of an empty stomach demanding to be fed. As he glanced around the room looking for a clock, he thought he saw an ominous flashing of lights from behind the drawn curtains. "What was that?" Seth wondered aloud.
Summer didn't look up from her task. "What?" She asked, uninterested.
The lights flashed again, and Seth reached down to still her hands. "That." He said, and stepped towards the window. Drawing the curtains aside, he peered out the glass and to the ground below, his pulse quickening when he discovered the source of the flashing. "Whoa. We missed something major, Summer."
"What do you mean?" His girlfriend asked curiously, and pushed in front of him to get an unobstructed view. "Oh my God. What happened?" she wondered aloud.
As they stared out at the long expanse of winding driveway that led up to the Cooper house, red and white lights bounced off the walls of the guest room from an ambulance parked out by the street.
Seth took one last look and let the drapes fall shut. "I don't know." He let the half-knotted tie lie forgotten against his chest as he slipped on his shoes and grabbed his jacket.
Summer turned away from the window. "Where are you going?" she asked, and her voice sounded soft, and slightly worried.
Giving her an obvious look, Seth nodded towards the door. "To see what's going on. Come on." He said, pulling off his tie and stuffing it into his front pocket. "I hope Ryan didn't punch Grandpa. I mean, it wouldn't be the first time he decked someone in public, but that would just make an even bigger rift between the families, like a Capulets and Montagues type of rift..."
He'd been walking down the hall, and sure enough, Summer had immediately followed, but he was stopped by her small but insistent hand on his shoulder, and that gentle tone of voice again. "Cohen…"
Seth stopped and looked at her. "What?"
Summer gave a kind of quiet sigh, averted her eyes, and chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. Then she looked up at him again. "Ryan might not have punched somebody." She said, her voice almost a whisper.
Looking at her blankly, Seth turned away, confused, and continued walking as they reached the stairs. He didn't understand what she was getting at, but he didn't like the edge to her voice, either. She sounded sad, and Summer almost never, ever sounded like that. And that alone was enough to worry him a bit. So he picked up his pace and let her hurry to catch up.
Once they got down to the main room and headed in the direction of the patio, the crowds of people got thicker, and it looked almost impossible to make it out the open glass doors. But something inside Seth was nagging, and Summer's hand had snaked into his and she had that small frown on her face, so Seth pushed his way through, feeling like Moses parting the red sea.
When they finally got outside, Seth glanced around. Over the shoulders of the two people standing in front of him he could see a clearing. Looking around a little more he saw a face he recognized that gave him both a momentous feeling of relief and confusion all at once; Caleb was standing slightly off to the side, his expression grim, and something in his eyes that was unreadable. No black eye. No rumpled suite. No bleeding nose.
Seth faltered, and blinked. "What…?" he looked around some more, and didn't know what to feel. If his grandpa was okay, then who was hurt?
Panic began in the pit of his stomach and made his mouth go dry. He glanced around again, more confused than he'd ever felt in his life. It didn't fall into place until he saw Marissa, her face tear stained and complexion white, staring at something on the ground Seth couldn't see. That was when his stomach turned over and his blood ran cold, and it was all he could do not to tear the people's heads off in front of him as he shoved his way through and stumbled into the clearing.
When Seth's eyes fell to Ryan lying prone on the ground, when he heard his horrible, choking cough, too much happened in that split second. Seth's heart leapt into his throat and his lungs expelled all the air he had in his system, leaving him breathless. Summer gave a startled gasp from behind him, said his name and yanked on his arm, like she was trying to keep him from seeing what she had suspected all along. His dad stepped in front of him suddenly and blocked his view of everything going on, staring into his eyes with a look of seriousness and concern – concern for him – that made Seth want to crawl into a hole and wait for this all to be over.
"Seth." His dad said his name clearly, his tone demanding Seth's attention as Seth's eyes struggled to focus on Sandy's face. "Look at me, Seth."
Ignoring him, Seth desperately craned his neck, trying to see what the hell was going on with his brother. His dad kept stepping in his way, blocking his view so that he could barely make out his mom standing somewhere in front of them, her face almost as pale and drawn as Ryan's. She looked like she was crying, like she had been crying for some time now.
Words were exchanged between the two paramedics hovering around Ryan and suddenly the stretcher was being lifted, and he was being rolled away. Seth told his feet to move, and they did.
"Seth!" Sandy's hand gripped his elbow and pulled him back.
Seth ripped out of his father's hold, glaring hard. "What?" He tried to shout, tried to sound angry, but his outburst came out sounding strangled and desperate.
Sandy stepped closer to him until their faces were almost inches apart. "They're taking Ryan to the hospital right now, Seth. You're mother is going to ride there with him in the ambulance, but you and I have to follow them in our car. Do you understand?" he spoke slowly, his voice almost hypnotic and irritatingly patronizing. But even so, Seth found his words difficult to decipher over the beating of his own heart in his ears. "Seth!"
Seth's head snapped back to look at his dad's frustrated, panicked expression and managed to get his head to nod. "Yes." He squeaked over the lump in his throat.
Sandy turned away then, and was talking hurriedly with someone else. Seth was left to stand numbly in the middle of the patio, the hushed crowd now dispersing somewhat. He felt Summer beside him, and was dimly aware of her speaking quickly, explaining something about meeting him at the hospital in a little while. He must have nodded because she got quiet after than and just held his hand until Sandy got back, and told him it was time to go.
As they were walking quickly to the car, Seth's mind started slowly functioning again and a million questions started and wouldn't quit. What the hell had happened while they were upstairs? Was Ryan going to be okay? Was it just that fucking cough or was it something else? Would he have to stay in the stupid hospital overnight or could he come home? Why had his mother looked like someone had died?
The most obvious question came out of his mouth before he even realized he had spoken it out loud. "Dad. What's wrong with Ryan?" He asked as Sandy started up the car and backed hurriedly out of the driveway.
"We don't know, Seth. It could be pneumonia." He said bluntly, his voice rough and flat sounding. "He's having trouble breathing. And he has a fever."
Oh, God. Seth swallowed hard and let his head fall back against the rest, his eyes slipping shut for a moment as he tried to take a few deep breaths. He opened them again and watched the road for a few lazy moments before studying his father's still profile. "Is he going to be okay?" he asked nervously, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice and suddenly feeling like his entire world revolved around the answer to this question.
Sandy glanced at him, took a breath as if it were painful, and gripped the steering wheel hard with both hands. "We'll know more once we get to the hospital." He said it like he was trying to convince himself that it was a good enough answer.
It sounded like one of those responses someone gave when they were trying to cover up or postpone bad news. It was at that point that Seth felt as if an iron fist had grabbed hold of his stomach and was squeezing. He tried to concentrate on not throwing up, and instead focused out the window.
The hallway of the hospital was white, floor to ceiling, and more than a little bit disorientating. As Sandy jogged down corridor after corridor, the only hint of color to be seen was a strip of blue painted down the side of the wall, the line that he and Seth were following that would supposedly lead them to the emergency room, according to a chirpy nurse at the front desk.
They passed a few people being pushed around in wheelchairs, and nearly took down an old lady in a walker. Sandy figured they were getting closer when the amount of sick-looking, injured people increased. One glance over his shoulder told him that Seth was still following, but looked slightly paler and a little green around the gills since they had arrived. Sandy knew his son wasn't a fan of hospitals. In fact, none of them were. Especially since they'd seen so much of this particular one ever since Ryan had gotten sick…
Sandy turned a corner and caught a flash of blonde hair leaning against a stark white wall. His heart beat a little faster as they got closer, but Kirsten didn't even seem to notice them until he and Seth were standing right in front of her. "Kirsten…"
Blue eyes shifted and focused on him. "Hey." Kirsten said, her voice painfully thin as she tried to smile and reached out to rub a hand up the length of Seth's arm. "You didn't miss anything. They just took him into an observation room." She said quickly without missing a beat.
"How is he? Do they know what's wrong with him yet? Can we see him?" Seth blurted out immediately, his eyes wide and anxious.
Kirsten gave another weak smile. "One thing at a time, honey. We just got here." Kirsten gazed longingly down the hall to where Ryan must have been taken and where she had been forbidden to follow. "They paged Dr. Collins once we got here and he's on his way. They're just going to get Ryan settled into a room, make sure he's comfortable. Then we'll be allowed to see him." She explained confidently.
But Sandy knew better. He could read the expression on his wife's face like an open book, and knew she was barely holding back from breaking down completely. She'd scared him at Caleb's when Ryan had first collapsed. Now at least recognition had returned to her eyes…but even though she was standing beside him now, Sandy could plainly see that she was still miles away.
Sandy saw her wrap he arms around herself and shiver slightly. Taking off his coat, Sandy draped it around his wife's bare shoulders. They'd left in such a hurry that she hadn't had time to retrieve her own jacket…if she'd even brought one, that is. Sandy couldn't remember. "Seth, could you get your mom some coffee from the vending machine?" he requested, coming up with a few coins from his pockets.
Seth took the offered change like he was accepting poison. Reluctantly, he pressed his lips together and nodded.
Sandy caught his arm. "I promise that we'll come get you if we need to." He added, and Seth nodded again and disappeared around the corner.
When Sandy turned back to Kirsten she was huddled under his coat, her eyes darting around nervously. Placing a steadying hand in the middle of her back, Sandy moved closer but restrained himself to that small amount of contact. He knew she didn't want to be comforted yet. "Honey…"
"I don't know if he's okay, Sandy." She sniffed softly, her eyes tearing up suddenly as she pressed her fingertips tightly to her lips. "The oxygen was helping, but only a little bit. They said his temperature was 101.3, I heard one of the doctors say something about a ventilator…" She bit back a sob and squeezed her eyes shut.
Sandy wrapped an arm securely around her back and swallowed over a lump that had formed in his throat. "Everything will be fine." He murmured softly, only because it was the one phrase he had allowed himself to repeat through this whole, agonizing night. He didn't think he knew any other words.
Kirsten took a few deep breaths to steady herself and brushed tears hurriedly from her cheeks. "What's wrong with him?" She asked helplessly, and stared up at him as if she expected answers.
Sandy wished with every fiber of his being that he could answer that question, but all he could do was stare down at her wordlessly and pray that he wouldn't lose it just from the fear in her eyes alone.
"Mr. and Mrs. Cohen?" A familiar voice called from down the hall, and they both looked up to see Dr. Collins hurrying towards them, a clipboard gripped tightly in his hands. When he got closer Sandy could see how frazzled he looked, his glasses askew and his green scrubs irreparably wrinkled, and that did nothing to calm his nerves. "I got here as quickly as I could…"
Kirsten had already latched onto both of his arms like a lifeline. "Where's Ryan? Is he going to be okay? Do you know what's wrong with him yet?" She demanded, her expression frantic.
Sandy touched her arm gently. "Honey, slow down…" he soothed, feeling like he was talking to Seth instead of his usually calm, collected wife.
Dr. Collins was holding Kirsten's hand clasped in both of his, smiling at her gently. "Mrs. Cohen, from what I can tell this early Ryan has developed a nasty lung infection. His temperature is a concern, but not as much as it could be." He explained slowly. "His breathing was worrying the doctors when he first arrived, but I was just in to see him and it's getting better. The oxygen is helping now that he's calmed down."
Swallowing hard, the panic in his wife's eyes hadn't lessened any. "But…but I heard someone mention putting him on a ventilator…his fever was high when we were in the ambulance…"
Smiling at her gently, Dr. Collins squeezed her hand. "A ventilator will not be necessary. That was probably just a precaution. As for his temperature, it's already started to go down now that we have him settled and got a chance to administer antibiotics." He said slowly, his smile never wavering and beginning to make Sandy feel uneasy.
"So…what you're saying is…" Sandy paused and swallowed, kneading the back of his neck with stiff fingers. "Ryan is going to be okay?" he asked hopefully.
With a short nod, the doctor looked at Sandy and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Barring any further complications, yes. I think he'll be fine."
Once the words were out of his mouth, Sandy felt an enormous weight fall from his shoulders and he sighed, momentarily not giving a damn as he wrapped his arms around Kirsten tightly and squeezed her to his chest.
"Frankly I would have been surprised if Ryan hadn't developed an infection, Mr. Cohen. His immune system has taken a huge, huge beating from the chemotherapy." He sighed very softly and looked regretful. "I should have been more vigilant. We could have been able to avoid something…this severe."
Kirsten had straightened her posture and had wiped evidence of tears from her eyes as she faced Dr. Collins hopefully. "Can we see him?" She asked, and Sandy begged that the answer would be yes.
Dr. Collins smiled again. "Sure. A nurse will be out in a minute to take you to his room. I have to go down to the lab to get Ryan's blood work from his last visit." He gave another little grin as he backed away, maintaining eye contact with both Sandy and his wife, a look that was beginning to get damned unnerving. "I'll be back up in fifteen minutes. We can talk this all over with Ryan." He gave a little wave and trotted down the hall.
When they were alone, Sandy saw Kirsten's shoulders sag as she let out a long, shuddering breath. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, Kirsten leaned against the wall again and closed her eyes, a line appearing in the middle of her forehead.
Sandy stepped closer. "Kirsten." He said softly, and hesitantly touched her shoulder. "Ryan's going to be okay." He said, hoping it would bring her a little relief, and also just because he didn't think he'd ever tire from saying it,
Her blue eyes slowly opened and were bloodshot, exhausted, and filled with tears. Her lips pressed together in a thin line, Kirsten drew in a deep breath before she spoke. "I thought that was it, Sandy." She whispered.
Confused, Sandy's eyebrows knit together as he looked at her closely. "What?"
Kirsten's eyes never wavered from his face. "I thought we were going to lose him. When he fell like that…at the party. And he couldn't breathe." Her voice cracked and a tear rolled down her cheek. "I thought he was going to die." Her shoulder shuddered as the first sob wracked her thin frame, and she buried her head in Sandy's chest.
Feeling his ribs painfully squeeze his heart, Sandy felt frozen as Kirsten came apart in his arms. His head began to swim and his blood turned to ice in his veins.
They couldn't possibly have come that close. Kirsten had just been scared, the incident had taken them by surprise. They couldn't have almost lost one of their sons tonight.
Sandy felt tears creep up behind his eyes, so he squeezed them shut and held his breath. He wrapped his arms tightly around his wife and rested his chin on the top of her head, and waited for this moment of agony to end.
"Dad?"
Looking up quickly, Sandy saw Seth standing stonily a few feet away, a cup of coffee in his hand, and a terrified expression on his face.
Without breaking his hold on his wife, Sandy looked at Seth and managed a small smile. "Ryan's okay." He sighed, and allowed himself to believe it.
Seth's expression went from anxiety to uncertainty, and finally to one of immense relief as he let out a heavy sigh and walked towards them. Sandy held an arm out to his son and Seth allowed himself to be drawn into his parents' embrace. Sandy didn't know how long the three of them stood there like that in the open hallway, but when they finally broke apart and headed down the hall, it was because it had become painfully obvious that Ryan was missing. And Sandy didn't care if his foster son had never been one for hugs. At that moment he'd never wanted wrap his arms around someone more.
A/N: Hope it was worth the wait :)
