Disclaimer: I do not own The O.C. or any of its characters. Everything belongs to FOX and Josh Schwartz.

Ryan's POV

I spent most of the day yesterday in bed, resting. Except for the few times that Sandy woke me up to take my temperature and give me some more medicine to take. In a way, it could be annoying. But I didn't mind too much. I knew I should be grateful that he cared enough. Sandy claims he wanted to help, but I knew that no one would really want to deal with me; especially in this condition. Who would actually want to deal with a sick person? I'm not even actually their kid; it wasn't their job to worry about me but they seem to insist on it. Though, I will admit that I am relieved that I didn't have to go to school with how awful I feel. I couldn't imagine doing anything as I continue to feel worse every time I wake up. Today I had the same symptoms but twice as bad; it was almost like I got hit by a bus. I have had colds before and I never felt like this. I think the only time I ever felt worse was when a few of my mother's boyfriends beat me; but at least that pain would subside after a while.

I groaned at hearing someone knock on the door to the bedroom. I turned over, burying my face into one of my pillows. The sound was making my headache worse. "Ryan?" Sandy comes in and sits on the edge of the bed like he had done multiple times yesterday.

"Hmm?"

"You feeling any better?" He asked and I shook my head slowly. I would have spoken, but I knew that was going to hurt too much. "Worse?" He asks and I nodded, slowly. Wasn't that obvious? "Can you tell me what hurts?" I quickly shook my head and then groaned as he asked to know why. I didn't see what difference it made. At this point, I wish he would just settle for taking my temperature and giving me the medicine. I was not up for all those questions.

"Hurts to talk." I managed to answer, hoarsely. I guess now I feel and sound as bad as I feel. I opened my eyes a crack after turning over. I looked at Sandy for a moment before shutting my eyes again. Am I ever going to get better? I would rather get into a fight with Luke again than lay here sick like this anymore.

"Maybe I should have a doctor take a look at you."

My eyes shot open at hearing Sandy mention a doctor. I looked at him and then shook my head in protest. I didn't want them to call any doctors. I didn't want them to bother with that. This was only a cold; it seemed like a waste of time and money to have someone take a look at me; and I really did not like doctors. I spent enough time in hospitals and ERs as a kid. I usually ended up there with broken bones or in need of stitches. It just depended how drunk my mother, my father, or my mother's boyfriends would be and how badly I would get injured. The doctors I had were never very helpful or reassuring. A lot of times it seemed like they only made things worse; they usually on did the bare minimum.

"I don't…need…a doctor." I told him, struggling to speak, my throat burning every time I swallowed. It was agony to speak but I'd do anything to avoid having to go see a doctor. I may not have been able to convince them that I wasn't sick, but maybe I could at least convince them not to call a doctor.

"It wouldn't hurt to get you checked out to make sure." Sandy said, much to my dismay; I don't even know if he noticed the irony in that statement. "When's the last time you've seen a doctor, anyways?"

I didn't respond at first. It had been a while. But the answer also depended. I had gone to the doctor multiple times for injuries but I had never actually gone for a regular physical as far as I knew. "No…I'm okay." I insisted. "No doctors."

Sandy then left the room momentarily to get a thermometer. I sighed but I allowed him to take my temperature for what felt like the hundredth time. "Okay, you're 102.5 right now, kid. But if it gets any higher, I am having a doctor take a look at you." I nodded. I was willing to accept that compromise. At the very least, it was delaying it. And maybe I could manage to get my fever down so that doesn't become an option. "Listen, I have to go into the office for a bit." Sandy told me. He seemed to feel bad for leaving me while I was still sick. I didn't mind. He had stayed all of yesterday and I certainly never asked him to miss work. It wasn't a big deal that he had to go for a bit. I have been locked in rooms alone when I was sick before. I've dealt with worse and I could take care of myself. They didn't have to put a twenty-four watch on me.

"It's fine." I told him, not letting him finish. "I'll be fine on my own."

"I was actually going to tell you that Kirsten will be here while I'm gone." Sandy tells me.

"No, it's okay. She doesn't have—" Sandy cuts me off mid-sentence. I didn't need them to take off work for me, especially Kirsten. I knew, for one thing, her father didn't like me and his hatred would grow if he knew she stayed home for me. It wasn't fair to them to have to miss work because of me.

"Ryan, it is okay. Kirsten offered. Anyways, she is doing some work from the house and she is just going to check on you every now and then until I get home." Sandy explained. "If you need anything, you can let her know." Sandy patted me shoulder before leaving. I didn't say another word before laying back down. I wasn't keen on the idea of Kirsten staying home. This is one of the reasons I wished they hadn't found out. But I guess it is alright if she was going to be working from home anyways. But I will just have to make it easier on her by staying out of the way; that wouldn't be too hard. The only thing I wanted to do was get back to sleep.

Kirsten's POV

Sandy left for work and I continued to work on going through legal documents and talking to people on the phone about the newest development project. My dad had called earlier and demanded to know why I just had to work from home today. I told him I wasn't feeling too well. I didn't want him to even think about blaming Ryan for something else, so I had to lie. It wasn't like my father would take time out of his day to come check up on me. I knew it was a harmless lie. I was still doing my work and I was here for Ryan, if he needed me. I see it was a win-win.

The day was really quiet. I hadn't heard anything from Ryan. I had checked on him once and he had been asleep. I knew Sandy wanted me to check his temperature periodically, but I wasn't going to wake him. I knew he was feeling bad and that it was better that he get his rest. Taking his temperature could wait. And I knew that Sandy probably took it plenty of times yesterday to make up for it. It was around two when I decided to go check on him again after I finished with another work call. I went into the guest room and was shocked to find that Ryan wasn't in bed. I hadn't heard a thing from him all day. He had been asleep last time I checked and now he wasn't even in bed. I didn't even hear him get up. Where did he go? I took another step into the room and that's when I heard a sound coming from the bathroom. The door was left ajar, so I pushed it slightly open and found Ryan throwing up in the toilet. He had barely had a thing to eat yesterday but it seemed that didn't matter. I kneeled down next to him and rubbed his back as he threw up. After a few minutes, he sat on the floor of the bathroom, clutching his stomach and shivering.

"C'mon," I urged as I put my arm around Ryan and helped him to his feet. I flushed the toilet and lead him into the living room and onto the couch. I wanted to keep him close by. He started shivering, so I wrapped him up in a blanket and then put a thermometer in his mouth. This brought back memories: I remember Seth had the stomach flu once when he was eleven and he had been so miserable; Sandy and I took care of Seth until he felt better a couple of days later. I doubted Ryan had that. I knew that for certain, thinking back to when we met his mother. It made me sad to think about that. But all that mattered now is that we would take care of him.

I sat on the couch next to him after getting the bottle of medicine just as the thermometer started to beep. I frowned at seeing that his temperature had gone up slightly. It hadn't gone much, but I knew that Sandy wanted me to call a doctor if his temperature had risen even the slightest.

"I think I'm going to—" I said, picking up the phone, but I only got to dial the area code when Ryan started protesting, weakly.

"Don't need a doctor."

"Ryan, you really should be looked at." I told him. "You're temperature keeps going up." I knew that Sandy was right to be concerned and that having Ryan seen by a doctor wouldn't do any harm. We don't even know the last time Ryan actually saw a doctor. And if it was any time recently, I doubted it was for a physical.

"I don't want a doctor." Ryan said. I looked at Ryan in the eyes and I frowned, putting the phone down. He looked scared at the thought of having to see a doctor. I could imagine that many—if not all—visits Ryan had to see a doctor weren't anything he'd want to remember. I try not to think about what Ryan has gone through before he came to us. But I knew it happened. But it didn't make it any easier because of how much I cared for him. I guess the thought of having to see a doctor wouldn't be something Ryan would want. I knew what Sandy had told me. He wanted me to call a doctor if Ryan's fever went up but I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to do it seeing the look on Ryan's face; at least not right now. It wouldn't hurt to just wait a while. If it didn't improve by the time Sandy got home, then I'd call a doctor.

Maybe with Sandy and I being here, would make Ryan feel a little less reluctant; if it comes to that.

"Okay," I said, letting go of the doctor issue for now. "But if you're not any better by the time Sandy gets home, I will call."

Ryan nodded, but I knew that was just because he was satisfied with me not calling a doctor now. I would have to keep a close eye on him and maybe do what I could to help bring his fever down.

"Can I go to bed?" Ryan asked.

"I want you to stay on the couch for a bit, okay?" I responded. It would be easier for me to keep an eye on Ryan if he were out here than in a closed bedroom. "Can you sit up and take some medicine?" I asked, picking up the medicine bottle off the coffee table.

Ryan shook his head. "No—I'll just throw up again."

"It's supposed to help you." I told him. I figured some medicine specifically for his stomach might be best for the meantime.

"I just want to lay down." Ryan argued. I knew Ryan was tired, especially after vomiting so much. I decided to hold off and give him some later. I got up briefly, putting the medicine in the kitchen and then going back over to the couch with a cold cloth, a bottle of ginger ale, and a small trash can in case Ryan felt sick again; this way he wouldn't have to rush to the bathroom.

"I want you to drink some of this." I offered the drink. At the very least, he needed to stay hydrated.

Ryan nodded and took a few small sips before laying back down. Once he did, I then gently ran the cool washcloth across his forehead. I hoped this would be enough to bring his fever down. For his sake, I was hoping I wouldn't have to call a doctor.

Ryan fell asleep for a while, maybe not more than an hour. He then started to vomit into the bin I had gotten for him; I guess it was a good thing I had gotten it. He sat up and vomited for a while as I rubbed his back, wishing there was more I could do. Once, he had finished, he slowly laid back down. I moved a bit closer to him and rubbed his back.

"I think maybe we should try some more medicine." I suggested as I put my hand on his forehead. He still felt really warm.

"No…won't help." Ryan protested.

"Ryan—" I didn't like the idea of him not taking anything. Either way, if it didn't work, at least he tried taking some. If he didn't take it, he definitely wouldn't feel any better. I knew just by looking at Ryan, he was miserable and it was hard to watch. I wanted to help but I felt next to helpless. I knew Ryan was probably used not taking medicine, dealing with everything on his own without help, but he didn't have to do that now. He had us and we wanted to help him. "—I really think you should take some medicine."

"I don't need it." Ryan insisted.

"I think you do." I continued. "Ryan, you aren't going to feel any worse if you take it and you aren't going to feel any better if you don't take it. Please? For me?" I tried, maybe this approach would be better. I didn't feel comfortable with Ryan not taking anything. At least, if he took some, I knew I had done what I could for the time being.

Ryan slowly nodded.

I got him to sit up long enough to take a dose of medicine and then a few sips of water before he laid back down. I moved a bit closer to him and started to rub his back again. When Seth was little, this used to make him feel at least a little more comfortable. I knew Ryan was not Seth, but I figured it was a worth a try; maybe he'd be okay with it. I had doubts that his mother ever did anything for him; Dawn didn't seem like the comforting time. Especially if it was after she started drinking. I hope I'm wrong, but I doubt I am; Ryan deserves better. He deserves to have people care about him, especially when he feels so terrible.

"Sandy will be home soon, okay?" I told him.

"You don't have to stay. You can do—work." Ryan replied.

"I worked all morning on The Newport Group. Right now, I am going to stay right here with you." I told Ryan. My dad could manage everything else without me. Ryan needed my attention more, even if he didn't necessarily agree. I had a more important job to do: being a mom.

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

Ryan gave up shortly after that. I wasn't sure if it was because he believed I wanted to or because he just didn't have the energy to argue with me any longer. But either way, he just laid there, trying to get some more rest. He seemed to relax after a while. I was just relieved he didn't pull away like usual. Ryan fell asleep shortly after I felt him starting to relax. I knew as soon as Sandy got home, we needed to have a doctor take a look at Ryan. I might be overreacting—Sandy and I could be overreacting—but I just wanted to be sure that there was nothing really wrong with him. It could just be the flu or something easy, but it never hurt to be too careful. I knew Ryan wouldn't be thrilled about it, but I knew Sandy would agree that Ryan was going to need a doctor sooner or later. In this case, the sooner the better.

A/N: This chapter has been edit and slightly rewritten as of February 2020.

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