I sent this to storymom last night, but seeing that her eyes must have frozen at the sight of BMcK lounging shirtless and rendered her immobile, she hasn't given me her opinion on this chapter. Oh well. Yes it's choppy. Intentionally so.

Josh… You. Me. Lawyers. An exchange of cash. Call me. Until then? Still yours.

12:53 PM

Sandy winced as the bruises on the chest, back and arms were displayed while Ryan struggled to pull a t-shirt over his head. He had waved off all offers of help getting dressed, but Sandy refused to leave the room, instead, waiting on the opposite side of the bed while a battle was waged with American Eagle. The start of another coughing spasm brought him to the boy's side, holding a towel underneath his chin. Darkened phlegm discoloured the sterile hospital white.

"It's okay… Spit it out… Almost done…"

Gentle reassurances.

Sandy disposed of the towel, throwing it in the linen bag in the corner of the room. He poured some water; after a few seconds placed the empty glass on the beside table. There was no objection as Sandy knelt down, rolled socks, twisted on a pair of Nikes, tied laces.

A small gesture.

One that left him wishing he could do more.

Dr. Connell entered several moments later, trailed by Kirsten and Seth.

"Well, I can see someone's eager to get out of here…"

No response from Ryan. Sandy caught a glimpse of the look in his eyes before he lowered them, choosing instead to stare at the floor.

It was a look of defeat.

The same look after a 16 year old realized he had been abandoned by his mother.

Choosing a violent, drunken boyfriend over him.

Leaving him.

A few words, hastily scratched out.

Rejection.

Sandy placed a hand on Ryan's knee and forced a smile. "I think we're all ready."

The Cohens and Dr. Connell discussed Ryan's homecare.

Clindamycin and Aztreonam. 3 times daily. 14 days.

Possible complications.

Pneumonia.

Seth watched as his brother remained oblivious to it all. Locked in his own world. He couldn't understand why. Trey had left Ryan to fend for himself against Dawn and her boyfriends. Nearly got his brother killed last year. Seth knew the details. The stolen car… The beat down.

The worry that Gattas might find him in Newport and finish what he started. Ryan had been wound up for weeks after that…

A talk with Captain Oats was definitely in order.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

2:10 PM

Sandy pulled the Range Rover into the garage. He sent up a quick prayer for some other scandal to materialize. One that would keep long range camera lenses from invading their privacy.

A news crew at the hospital waiting unsuccessfully as the family was escorted out a service entrance.

He and Kirsten led a drowsy Ryan up to the guest room, drawing the covers, laying him back against a pile of pillows. Runners were quickly pulled off, blankets replaced.

They listened to the laboured, wheezy breathing for a few minutes before they left the room, leaving the door open.

Darkness curled around him.

Constraining.

Arms and legs, unable to move.

Sinking. Struggling for air.

Water invading. Solidifying in his lungs. Pulling him deeper.

Fractured light puncturing the pitch black.

Trey.

Accusing.

Condemning.

Arms reaching. Ready to drag him down.

Further entrenched in guilt.

Suffocating.

Jagged, harsh breaths.

Noisy gasps.

Chest heaving.

Reality.

Ryan looked around. The room was slowly coming into focus. He tried to control his breathing, praying it wouldn't turn into another coughing fit.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Slow.

Measured.

Deep.

Refractory memories of yesterday.

Trey…

His fault.

He should have tried harder.

Done more.

Anything.

Instead, he had abandoned Trey.

Left him.

Ryan had something in common with Dawn after all.

Pushing himself off the bed, stumbling into the washroom.

Locking the door.

Desperate to escape from himself.

Ryan struggled to bring air into his constricted chest. He slid down against the marble wall, the stone cooling his fevered cheeks.

Lungs screaming.

Starving.

Pounding.

The cough tore his throat, strangling him.

More pounding.

Voices calling him.

Trey.

Fading to black.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

4:16 PM

Sandy slid his Diner's Club card between the lock and the doorjamb. Opening the washroom door, he picked up Ryan, holding him upright, over his shoulder, hitting the boy's back, trying to disgorge the substance keeping the breath from him.

He felt warm stickiness soak through as Ryan deposited the foreign matter on his shirt.

A shuddering gasp.

Another involuntary offering of bile saturating the navy blue jersey.

Kirsten knelt down beside them. She listened as Ryan breathed, the grating sound filling his oxygen deprived lungs.

Again.

Struggling.

Again.

Easier.

Again.

Deeper.

Again.

Rhythmic.

Again.

Reflex.

Sandy carried him back to bed. A damp cloth bathing the pale face. They lingered once more, this time taking in the steady, unobstructed sounds.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sunday, 7:28 AM

Seth waited impatiently for the coffee maker to finish, convinced that using the "sneak a cup" feature would upset the delicate yin/yang balance of the Brazilian blend. Finally, he was able to pour himself a mug, blowing across the top before tentatively taking the first sip.

Chi.

A-chi-evement.

Damn, he should stop watching the Tantric Yoga videos with Alex. Um, no…. He doubted he could "heel" his inner "down drop dog".

He wandered down the hall, looking in on his parents. They were snuggled together. Seth swallowed a little bit of imaginary vomit. He preferred to think of his own conception as "immaculate", thus preventing images of well… images of what no teen wants to imagine his parents doing.

He thought of announcing his presence but self-preservation took over, remembering hearing them checking in on Ryan several times during the night. He definitely remembered their detour into his room and how he'd quickly rolled onto his side, finding a new home for his hand.

Backing from the door way, Seth instead went upstairs to the guest room. First knocking softly, he opened the door. Ryan was propped up by several large pillows, his head turned to the side, eyes still closed. As Seth moved closer, he was surprised when Ryan turned and looked at him.

"Hey… uh, good to see you awake…"

Ryan focused on the light green mug in Seth's hand.

"That for me?"

Ryan's voice had been reduced to a coarse whisper.

"Yeah…" He waited until Ryan sat up before handing him his coffee.

"Where's yours?" He rasped, desperately trying to pretend everything was fine.

Normal.

Just another day.

When Seth left to procure another cup of caffeine, Ryan took a sip, wincing as the warm liquid came in contact with his raw throat. He struggled to swallow. Finally succeeding, he stood up, walking on shaky legs and closing the washroom door behind him.

He mechanically went about his business.

Auto pilot.

He caught a glimpse of his pale, bruised face in the mirror.

A reminder that it wasn't just another day.

He fought a mental battle to keep fresh memories buried.

His reflection stared back at him.

Accusing.

Ryan closed his eyes, willing the images away.

Opening his eyes. He was met with Trey's face.

Closing his eyes again.

Shattered glass.

Trey was gone.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seth came back with another coffee, only to find the room empty.

"Ryan?"

"Yeah…."

The washroom door opened and Seth watched as Ryan picked up pieces of broken mirror. He bent down to help.

"Don't..."

"You're bleeding…"

Ryan stopped and stared at his knuckles. Trickles of blood ran down the back of his hand.

"I'll get mom…"

Shaking his head, Ryan didn't look up from his bleeding fist.

"I'm gonna take a shower… I'll clean up…"

Closing the door on Seth.

Locking himself in.

Turning on the water, waiting until steam filled the room before stepping in the enclosure.

He closed his eyes tightly as his aching body was pelted with hot water.

Burning.

Stinging.

He reached for the soap.

Scalding.

Scrubbing.

Unable to wash away his guilt.