Okay, this chapter is dedicated to our beloved smc36 also known as Storymom. Not only has she endured liposuction (she can say it was a twisted intestine, but I know the real story), MRSA and IV antibiotics, it's also her birthday. In honour of her special day, she has generously offered to buy all rights to the OC and have BMcK express mailed to me. I'm a lucky, lucky woman.

This story has also taken off on a different vein than I had originally planned. This is what happens when I write a chapter at a hockey game. Yup, me and 9,100 of my closest friends. Hopefully there is still some flow to this.

Thanks again for all your reviews and encouragement. No pushing now, we'll all take turns on the mood swings.

Chapter Three.

12:15 PM

Sandy poured himself another mug of coffee, adding to the collection of abandoned ones scattered throughout the house. He stared at Ryan's wrist cuff on the counter before picking up the piece of leather, fingering its worn softness.

The fact that Ryan only took it off the shower or sleep said something.

That he found it in the middle of his bed was another clue.

Ryan had taken his wallet, cell phone and jacket, but left this. He had left a piece of himself behind as if to tell them he was coming back.

But why did he leave?

Sandy picked up his mug and answered the knocking on the door.

Shit.

Suits and shields.

He put his coffee down. Another mug left to fend for itself.

"Agents Torres and Fielding. We're looking for Ryan Atwood." came the clipped, no-nonsense voice of suit number one.

"Gentlemen, I'm Sandy Cohen, but then I'm sure you already know that. I'm Ryan's father and his lawyer. What can I help you with?"

Suit number two, Agent Fielding quickly glanced through his notes.

"According to our information, Ryan Atwood is a ward of the state of whom you've taken guardianship…"

"Ryan is my son." Sandy corrected. "Now I'll ask you again, what can I help you with?"

"There was an escape from the California Institute for Men. Trey Atwood was a part of it…"

Sandy shook his head. "When did this happen?" He interrupted.

"Last night. We've recaptured two of the men involved. Three more remain at large."

The last clue fell into place. Ryan was with Trey. Damn. Sandy needed to think like a lawyer.

"Ryan and Trey don't have much of a relationship. He hasn't seen his brother in over a year."

"Can we talk to "your son"? The snark Agent Torres leveled at Sandy didn't go unnoticed.

"My sons are at school. Why don't you leave your card and Ryan and I will talk with you." Sandy's emphasis on the words "sons" and "I" came through loud and clear. Agent Torres backed off a little.

"If you hear from Ryan before then…."

"You'll have our co-operation." Sandy finished, taking the card the Federal agent held out to him. Closing the door, he called Ryan's phone for the 14th time… Or was it the 15th?

That boy was going to feel the full weight of some righteous anger.

In biblical proportions.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"How'd you get out?"

Trey shook the last cigarette from the package.

"Wasn't my choice." He shrugged. Trey's hands trembled as he struggled with the lighter. Finally succeeding, he drew heavily on the cigarette.

"So you just tripped over someone's foot and landed on the other side of the fence?"

The flashpoint of anger in his brother's eyes made Ryan retreat back to the quiet zone and wait for Trey to explain. He watched as the cigarette burned down to the filter. Searching his pockets and coming up empty, Trey took a deep breath and continued.

"I didn't know nothing about a break. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and got taken for the ride." Trey took a handful of sand and watched it trickle through his fingers. "Can't be a witness if I'm a part of the action… Who's gonna believe me? That's why I need your lawyer's help. I can't just turn myself in to the cops. It's gotta look like they caught me, but I don't need my head blown off by some rookie tryin' to make a name for himself…"

He dug his fingers deeper in the sand , letting the wind blow the sifting granules.

Ryan carefully processed all the information. He knew his brother was telling the truth. He and Trey were the worst liars. It was one trait they hadn't learned very well from their parents. The lack of that particular skill led to being on the wrong end of someone's fist too many times.

Long minutes passed before he stood up, wiping the grit from his jeans.

"Where you going?" Trey asked, not taking his eyes from the ocean.

"We're outta smokes…"

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Kirsten spent part of the afternoon driving, trying to keep her anger at her father from consuming her. She also told herself that maybe, she might find Ryan just randomly walking down the sidewalk or worse, lying in a ditch somewhere wishing he'd worn clean boxers. She had no clue where to look. Driving to Chino would have been an option, but Theresa and her mother had moved to Atlanta. There was really no one else Ryan would want to see.

His mother?

Aside from the Christmas gift he received from Dawn last year, he hadn't heard from her.

As far as she knew anyway.

It would probably be better if she went home.

She and Sandy would figure this out together.

And come up with a plan to ground that boy until he was 54.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan used the ATM at the 7-11, pulling out 50 bucks. He picked up two packages of Marlboros, an extra lighter and an assortment of chocolate bars.

Nicotine and chocolate.

A Trey Atwood special.

2:45 PM

"Lindsay…"

Lindsay looked up to see who had derailed her train of thought.

Caleb Nichol… Caleb… Cal… Dad…

"Uh, hey… What are you doing here?"

"Can't a father get to know his daughter? I'd like to take you out for a late lunch…"

"Today? I, um…"

"Good…" Caleb had no intention of Lindsay refusing. Obviously Renee was incapable of raising his child. "My jag is out front…. Paolo's does a wonderful Tilapia. You can call you mother from my car…"

Lindsay hesitated before following him, her uh… the male contributor to her DNA strands.

The ride to the restaurant was made in awkward silence. Lindsay wished Ryan had been with her. He'd known Caleb longer than she did. Whenever she'd ask him about her father, he recited a "Cliff's Notes" version of the Caleb Nichol biography. Then again the only time the subject came up, the two of them were in the pool house and Ryan had preferred to use his mouth for other things.

Not that she was complaining.

"Lindsay…" Caleb's tone was sharp, almost annoyed that his daughter wasn't paying attention.

"I'm sorry…" She said contritely, tearing her mind away from the thought of Ryan's lips.

"I asked you what you were taking in school. Your junior year is very important…"

"Um… World lit, Spanish, chemistry, algebra, physics…."

"You should learn French instead of Spanish…. Have you thought about studying economics? Ahhhh…. Here we are…" Caleb announced as he pulled in front of the restaurant. Lindsay's door was opened by a uniformed young man who held his arm out to her. She realized he was supposed to assist her out of the vehicle. She gave him a weak smile. He gave her a reassuring one. She watched as the valet took the keys from Caleb.

Her father escorted her into a restaurant that she was totally under dressed for. Lindsay felt like the poor relations… Well, maybe not poor, but definitely middle class…. Middle, middle class.

A tuxedoed Maitre'd held out a chair for her and placed a napkin on her lap. She wondered if he was going to tie a bib around her neck as well since she had lost the ability to get out of a car and unfold a napkin by herself.

Was there a matron to help her go potty as well?

She brought her attention back to Caleb, now that the Maitre'd finished fawning over him. Caleb waved off the menus the waiter brought.

"We'll have the tilapia, rice pilaf and the roasted baby vegetables. I'll have a glass of '93 Pinot Gris. My daughter will have club soda with lime."

Great, not only could Lindsay not pick her own meal, she apparently didn't know what type of beverage she wanted. At this point she was surprised Caleb didn't ask for her drink to be served in a sippy cup.

What the hell was tilapia anyway?

4:05 PM

The Cohens were pondering their next move. Sandy had filled Kirsten in on the details of Agents Torres and Fielding's visit and the news of Trey's spontaneous unauthorized leave of absence from prison. They were afraid that Ryan was now caught up in something he was ill-equipped to handle.

Dammit Trey! Kirsten thought. He was going to drag Ryan down again. More than that, he put him in danger.

Her son.

The one who wasn't answering his damn cell phone.

The cell phone she was going to have surgically implanted in his hand. Maybe a Lojack would be better. Day surgery. In and out.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seth had called home to let his parents know that he was going to check out a couple of places where Ryan had been known to hang out. Actually, other than The Bait Shop and Lindsay's, the only place left was the library and if Ryan had caused this much grief because he was buried in some books, then he'd have to kick his brother's ass himself.

Sort of.

Maybe.

Fuck, he'd just threaten to do it and hope Ryan wouldn't laugh too hard.

Alex might provide some insight into this whole thing, or at least provide a small diversion.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lindsay picked at her fish. Unless it was battered, deep fried and came in the shape of a rectangle, she generally didn't eat anything that lived in the water.

"Is there something wrong with your dinner? I can have the chef make you something else…"

"No… It's fine, thank you." Lindsay cut a small piece and tried not to make a face as she ate it. She wished she hadn't agreed to this "late lunch". It had turned out to be more of an inquisition.

So far, Spanish was a language for gardeners and housekeepers, World Literature was reserved for those who ended each sentence with the phrase "Would you like fries with that…", and chemistry was okay if she planned on becoming another "Unibomber". At least algebra held some promise.

"You mentioned you're studying physics…"

She visibly brightened when Caleb brought that up. It was her favourite subject. The fact that her lab partner was not only smart, but gorgeous as well didn't hurt either. Lindsay placed her napkin on her plate and discretely pushed it aside… Well as discretely as she could.

Caleb pretended not to notice. His daughter had actually smiled for the first time since they'd arrived.

"My lab partner and I are working on increasing the tensile strength of a light weight steel alloy without compromising structural integrity. It could be beneficial in the construction industry… Commercial and residential…"

That brought a smile to Caleb's face. Another daughter in the family business. He had given up on Seth following in his footsteps ever since he became involved with that juvenile delinquent Kirsten felt sorry for.

"I trust your lab partner is pulling his or her weight because this project sounds promising."

"Actually, it was Ryan's idea. He wanted to…"

Caleb's face became cold, hard.

"Ryan? Ryan Atwood?"

"Um, yeah…. He's really smart and he wants to be an architect…" Lindsay was confused by Caleb's sudden dark demeanor.

"I'll call the school Monday and arrange for a new partner…"

"Why would you do that? Ryan's the smartest one in the class…"

"That boy has insinuated himself into one of my daughter's lives… I won't have him leech onto yours. He's nothing but a criminal and I won't allow…"

"You won't allow?" Lindsay couldn't believe what she was hearing. . "Who are you to tell me who I can be lab partners with?" She said, her voice rising.

Caleb kept his voice low and even, but there was an air of authority in it.

"I'm your father and I…"

"You only admitted you were my father to save yourself from going to jail, so who's the criminal?" Lindsay stood up, fighting back tears. She was not going to let "him" see her cry. "I knew this was a mistake. You don't want to get to know me… Who I am… You want me to fit into your idea of me…"

With that, she walked out of the restaurant, angrily swiping the tears that slid down her cheeks.

Caleb drained the last of his wine. This was all that boy's fault. Ryan was turning out to be a bigger problem than he first anticipated.

Well, that would change.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

5:12 PM

Ryan fumbled through his pockets, looking for a quarter. After inserting the coin and dialing the number, the burning in his chest reminded him of the need to exhale.

"Hello…" Ryan winced at the anxiety in his foster father's voice.

"Sandy… Hey, uh…" Was all Ryan managed to get out before the wrath of Sandford Cohen opened up on him.