Legacy
Chapter 6
Sandy was speaking but Ryan couldn't hear anything. His ears were ringing louder than they had when the shot went off.
"I'm sorry, son. They tried everything."
No, no, no. This wasn't happening, not to Seth. Not to someone as good as Seth.
Sandy kept speaking, "Your mom will be arraigned in the morning. She probably won't get bail, but it should be manslaughter."
Wait. Ryan looked up sharply, his breath hitching. What did he say? "My mother?"
"I know it's hard, but she was just trying to protect you and Seth." Sandy placed a gentle hand on Ryan's shoulder. "She probably saved your life."
"No. My mom didn't do anything." Sandy wasn't making sense. Ryan shook his head, tried to think, then locked eyes with his foster father. "Where is Seth?"
"He's upstairs, Kirsten's with him. He's complaining up a storm, as you can imagine."
"What?" Ryan's voice was a choked whisper. "He's fine?"
Sandy stopped, gave Ryan a confused look. "It's just a scratch. He needs a few stitches, but otherwise he's going to be okay."
Ryan shook his head, pursing his lips to stop the sob that rose in his throat but it was useless. He bowed his head as tears spilled over, his shoulders shaking as the tension of the past few hours was released. Sandy sat beside him on the bed, a warm arm encircling Ryan's shoulders. He tried to resist, sit firm, but he was all out of resolve for one day. Letting Sandy's arm support him, he wiped at his eyes and tried to understand.
"I just thought, there was so much blood, and then the paramedic said…"
Sandy's hand rubbed his shoulder briskly. "I don't have the full story, kid, but your mom has been arrested for shooting this Rick Trana guy. The officer said he shot Seth and was about to shoot you when she stepped in."
Ryan remembered the second gunshot, the gun blazing against his neck, then it was gone. He raised a hand to his neck, wincing when he felt the blistered skin. "I hit Rick, I punched him, but he got up." The memory was coming back slowly. "Seth was right there but I couldn't reach him, and Rick was on me, then the gun went off."
Suddenly it all clicked in Ryan's brain. The second gunshot wasn't from Rick's gun, how could it be? He wouldn't be sitting here to tell the tale if Rick had been successful. There was another gun; Ryan closed his eyes and nodded. His mother had shot and killed Rick. Just when he needed her most, she'd stepped up and saved his life.
Sandy was standing now, coaxing him to rest. "Why don't you lie down? We'll get a doctor in here to check you over."
"No." He resisted, pushing against the bed to stand again. "I want to see Seth."
"You will, but you need to see a doctor."
"No." Ryan's voice was firm. "I need to see him. I need to make sure…" His eyes begged Sandy to give in. This day had been so horrific; he needed Seth to find sanity again.
Sandy hesitated, then finally nodded. "Okay, but you need a wheelchair." He put up a hand before Ryan could protest. "No arguments."
Ryan sagged against the bed, his ribs were screaming and his fist was bloody from connecting with Rick's face. His fingers explored the welt on his neck; so much damage and he was the least injured. A knot tightened in his stomach as he waited for Sandy to return. Seth was okay, he believed it, but what about their relationship? He'd brought Seth to Chino, pushed him into the danger zone. It was his fault that Seth was injured at all.
And then there was his mother. With his left hand, Ryan rubbed his face roughly. His emotions toward her had run the gamut from worship to disgust, back to hope and now reverence. How did he even begin to deal with that?
Ryan looked up as the door opened. Sandy was standing sideways in the doorway, a wheelchair by his legs. His hand was raised to an unseen face and he sounded irritated.
"Officer Spensky, I am this boy's father and his lawyer. Unless you plan to charge him with being in the unfortunate position of bearing witness to a crime, of which he is also the victim I might add, I am going to take him to see my other son, his brother, who has been shot and who would very much like a visitor. Do you have a problem with that?"
Ryan smiled for the first time in hours; give Sandy a case to dig into and he really grabbed on.
Pushing the wheelchair ahead of him, Sandy shook his head as he entered the room. "I spoke to an ADA friend of mine. They won't be pressing any charges against you or Seth, obviously, and there will be profuse apologies for your initial arrest."
Bowing his head, Ryan felt his cheeks flush—this brought him to three arrests since Sandy had known him; he certainly couldn't say the same about Seth. "I think I was trying to help Seth when the cops came in. Maybe they thought I hurt him…" Ryan's voice faded as he thought about the actual role he'd played in Seth's injury.
Sandy left the wheelchair next to the bed and resumed his seat next to Ryan. "Whatever their reason, they were wrong. You should never have been blamed for this."
"But I took him down there. I shouldn't have let him come."
Sandy pursed his lips. "Actually, what you should have done is not gone at all." He turned toward Ryan. "What were you thinking? Going back to Chino, after everything that's happened? I expect better from you Ryan. I expect you to think."
A heavy silence settled between the two men, uneasiness thick like molasses oozing into Ryan's wounds. He'd known it was wrong to go down there—he'd known it as soon as Seth volunteered to come and the familiar sinking feeling settled in his stomach. The sinking feeling didn't often accompany the right decision, it was a surefire sign to turn back and try another path. But Ryan was stronger than a foreboding sense of danger, or at least he thought he was.
"It was wrong. I just…I thought I could handle it." He couldn't raise his head, couldn't meet Sandy's eyes. "My mom just sounded so desperate to talk, and I hadn't seen her in son long." His voiced trailed off, what a pathetic explanation.
Sandy was quiet for a long moment, then he put his arm back on the boy's shoulders and gave him two quick hugs. "You know Ryan, ever since you came to us, I wondered when the day would come that you'd leave."
Ryan turned his head sharply, narrowing his eyes.
"Now, don't act all surprised." Sandy smiled to offset the tension. "You were a fish out of water, everyone could see that, and I kept thinking, is this bubble going to burst? Are we going to lose him?" He let his arm drop from Ryan's shoulder, pulling it back to his lap. "We've accepted you like a son, like a son that we've always had. And sometimes I forget that you haven't always been here; that you were somewhere else once, and that place deserves to be recognized."
Ryan looked away, focused on his injured right hand. Sandy was hitting close to home, saying things Ryan had never admitted to anyone. Hearing his innermost fears put into words was unsettling—it threw him off balance like diving for a curve ball…and missing.
Sandy continued, "What I'm trying to say, and making a real mess of, is that I can understand why you had to go to see your Mom. And we want you to always feel like you have that right." He paused, linking his fingers together. "But I want you to remember that you can always, always call us. Even if it's just to check in; ask if you can borrow the Beamer."
Ryan looked back at him now, apprehension painted on his face.
Sandy nodded solemnly. "Yes, I know about the Beamer, which I shall now affectionately call the Chino-mobile."
Ryan's eyes widened. Sandy sure was taking this all in stride. Then his foster father smiled, and Ryan couldn't help himself. He let a small chuckle escape, wincing when a sharp pain lanced through his side.
"Alright." Sandy was on his feet, all business. "Let's get you upstairs to see Seth before Kirsten realizes that you still haven't seen a doctor and throws her weight around."
Ryan slowly eased himself down into the wheelchair. "Kirsten has weight at Chino County?"
"Son, my wife has weight at Wal-mart if she wants it."
/-/
Carefully, Sandy pushed open the door to Seth's room. Kirsten was sitting beside the hospital bed, a pale Seth lying beneath the blankets. An IV was in his arm, a bag of clear liquid slowly dripping into his body. He looked weak, broken. Ryan's breath caught in his throat.
Then Seth turned his head and all tension vanished.
"Dude! You look like hell!"
Ryan smiled, pressing a hand to his ribs defensively.
Kirsten approached quickly, bending low to wrap her arms around him carefully. "How are you?"
Her eyes were soft, concerned. Ryan searched them for traces of disappointment; there was none. He nodded, trying to reassure her. "I'm okay, really. And I'm sorry."
"You did nothing, besides maybe forget that you own a cell phone, but the way Seth tells it, you were a hero."
Ryan was surprised at her words. "I'm no hero."
"Dude!" Seth cried out. "That Trainwreck guy had his gun pointed straight at me. You tackled him right before he shot. You totally saved my life!"
"No." Ryan shook his head. "I was too late, he shot you before I could stop him."
"No way man. He barely nicked me, a little blood, couple of stitches. I'm hoping for minimal scarring, just enough to brag about."
"Okay, Seth," Kirsten said quickly, standing. "I think we've all had enough talk about guns for one night."
"Sure Mom, no more guns. Why don't you see if you can snag me a Mountain Dew? Ry and I have to catch up about, ah, baseball."
Kirsten shook her head, smiling at her boys. "Five minutes and then Ryan is going back to get those wounds treated. I can't believe no one has seen him yet. Sandy, who can we talk to?" She turned to leave the room.
"I told you so," Sandy whispered, following behind.
Ryan followed Sandy with his eyes, then slowly brought them back to Seth. He had a lot of explaining to do for today. Suddenly the room felt several degrees cooler. His stomach clenched as he worked up the nerve to speak. "Look," he paused. "I need to apologize to you."
"For what?" Seth was surprised.
"For everything. For today. For my mom, and Rick. For going on a drug run and being held hostage. For," his voice cracked. Shaking his head, he gestured toward the hospital bed. "For getting you shot."
"Dude, you didn't exactly pull the trigger."
"No, but I brought you there, and I shouldn't have. I told you before we left that it wasn't safe."
"Yeah, clearly it's not, but you needed me today. Remember the fantastic save I pulled off—Beamer button to the rescue."
"Seth!" Ryan was losing his cool. There was trademark Seth—turning something horrific into a game. Why couldn't he just take things seriously for once? Ryan's stupidity had almost gotten them both killed. "Don't laugh it off. Don't pretend that today wasn't horrible." Ryan's voice was sharp and Seth recoiled against the pillows.
An awkward silence settled between them, Ryan picking at his wounded hand, Seth staring at the ceiling. Finally, Seth shifted and spoke.
"Today was without a doubt the scariest day of my entire life; it's certainly the first time I've been held hostage and I got to go on my first drug run. Woo hoo." Seth forced a laughed that faded quickly when Ryan didn't reciprocate. Coughing roughly, he continued, "Look Ry, from the moment I walked in that house, you had my back. And that felt like classic Seth and Ryan, like Kavalier and Clay—like brothers."
Ryan was silent, taking in what Seth had to say.
"This morning I wanted us to get back to where we were months ago—friends who totally got each other and knew what the other wanted before he did. And, well…what better way to do that than walk through the shadow of death, if you get my drift."
"Seth…" Ryan shook his head.
"Don't try to argue with me, you know I'm right."
"Seth." He wanted forgiveness so badly and Seth was offering it to him on a silver platter. Why couldn't he take it? Was he never going to feel deserving? "My mother's drug dealer held you hostage, took you to buy coke, shot you, and tried to shoot me. How can today be the day that makes us better friends? Can you explain that to me?" Ryan was panting.
Seth's voice was soft as he offered one last explanation. "You're forgetting one thing—your mom asked you to come down here. Today happened because you still love her." He shrugged, shifting beneath his blanket. "Don't beat yourself up. Maybe you're not a hero, but you're not a criminal, the way I see it, you're just a son."
Ryan stared at Seth for a long moment, the words sinking in. Just a son. Just Dawn's son. Just the kid who couldn't be blamed, once again, for his mother's mistakes. He looked away, head shaking, shoulder twitching. "I should have done something."
"Dude, look at your hand. You did." Then he chuckled. "And you better get that thing looked at, you know I'm squeamish about blood."
Catching Seth's eye roll, Ryan couldn't stop the smile spreading across his face. Typical Seth, always there with the funny. He tried to flex his hand, streaks of pain darting up his arm. Wincing, he shifted uncomfortably in the wheelchair.
Seth broke in. "Go. I am going to lie here and enjoy my morphine." He reached out to pet his IV stand. "Precious," he cooed.
Before he could try to leave, Sandy reentered the room. "One first-class trip to Treatment Room 3, coming up."
He tugged on Ryan's wheelchair, pulling him away from Seth's bed. As they moved backwards, Ryan looked at Seth once more, an apology written all over his face.
Seth answered his unspoken question. "We're good, Ry. We're good."
As Sandy pushed him through the hallways, the relief he'd felt at Seth's bedside faded with every step. Ryan couldn't help it—he wasn't programmed to resolve problems. Something was always wrong, somebody always needed help. Now, with Seth's forgiveness firmly in place, the true consequences of the day's events fell heavily on him. His mother had killed a man today, the man that tried to kill him. She'd saved his life, now he had to thank her.
/tbc/
