Twist of Fate

by O.C.Annie

AU Season One, In The Pilot Kirsten asks Sandy, What if this is all a scam? What if he’s just using you to case the house?” In this story it is the truth, but not by Ryan's choice.

6. Chapter 6

1Title: A Twist of Fate

Ratings/Warnings: In this chapter- Ryan angst

Beta: The invaluableloracj2

Disclaimers: I own nothing in relation to The O.C. All mistakes are mine

Summary: Beginning of Season 1, AU, In The Pilot, Kirsten asks Sandy "What if this is all a scam? What if he's just using you to case the house?" In this story it is the truth, but not by Ryan's choice. For the purposes of this story Dawn is dead and there never was a Trey.

Twist of Fate: Chapter Six

Kirsten just sat down at the kitchen table when Sandy arrived home from spending the afternoon at his office. Slowly, he approached the table holding his briefcase like he was carrying the weight of the world. From his expression, Kirsten knew that something was deeply troubling him, and she was sure that something was named Ryan.

"Sweetheart, what's the matter?"

He looked around the room. "Are Seth and Ryan back yet?"

"I don't think so, but I've only been home a few minutes. Sit down and talk to me." She pulled out the chair next to her. "You look horrible."

With a heavy sigh he took the offered chair, placing the briefcase in front of him. He sat there quietly for a moment, his thumb and palm slowly tracing its stitching. Finally, he spoke. "It's Ryan."

"I know that, honey." She gave him a small sad smile, and placed her hand on his.

"Do you know that he didn't eat breakfast this morning because you didn't tell him he could?"

Kirsten was taken aback. She tried remembering if she could have possibly said something to Ryan that would have led him to believe that he wasn't allowed to eat. "Honey, you know I would never..."

"No, of course not. My point is that poor kid wouldn't eat so much as a bowl of cereal without permission. Seth told me he was afraid we'd get mad at him."

"But that's ridiculous. You did finally get him something to eat, didn't you?"

"Yes, I made him a bagel. I practically had to force him to take it. He's scared of me, Kirsten. I can see it in his eyes."

"There's something more, isn't there? Where did you go this afternoon?"

"I know I told you that I was going to wait until Monday morning to see if I could find out any information on Ryan and his stepfather. But I couldn't get it out of my mind. The more I thought about it, the more I knew Monday would be too late."

"Did you find anything out?"

"Yes and no. First, I called in a few favors and pulled a couple of strings. I have people looking up Art's past, both on and off the record. They assured me they'll have something by tomorrow evening at the latest. I didn't want to sit around here and wait. I needed to do something myself. I've spent the last four hours seeing what I could dig up at work. I couldn't come up with anything on Art. My access is limited to minors."

"I take it, however, that you did find something about Ryan. How bad is it?"

Sandy ran his hands through his hair and sighed again. He looked at her, his eyes showing his concern. "I shouldn't be showing you this. It's confidential. I only received access to it because I'm his lawyer, but you need to be aware what we're dealing with here."

"You're doing the right thing, honey. I do need to know. I want to help him, too."

He took a manila folder out of his briefcase. "This is Ryan's social service file."

Something about the way Sandy sounded made Kirsten feel sick before even looking at the file. She wasn't naive. She knew that there were kids out there who came from troubled and abusive homes. She and the other wealthy women in the community held countless fundraisers for children like that every year. It made them feel good about themselves...helping the less fortunate. However, those kids were little more than faces on billboards and on the cover of informational pamphlets. They weren't supposed to be the painfully polite boy that she was already growing fond of despite herself.

"What does it say?"

"It's what it doesn't say that concerns me the most. But I'll get to that in a minute." He opened the file, and started sifting through the pages. "Ryan was the only child of Dawn and Larry Atwood from Fresno. They were just kids themselves when they got married, seventeen and nineteen. She was pregnant with Ryan at the time. Both came from poor families. During the course of their marriage, there were several reports of domestic disturbances. The neighbors called the police often due the noise from within their house. However, when the police arrived, Dawn would always deny that there was any sort of problem, and the cops left with nothing more than a warning to keep it down. Ryan had a few unexplained "accidents" that resulted in trips to the emergency room. Dawn claimed he fell a lot. The authorities could never prove differently. When Ryan was old enough to start school, the teachers constantly reported possible abuse and neglect. They said he was too small for his age, he wore the same clothes several days in a row, and they rarely saw him without a black eye or a split lip."

"But with all those reports something was done, right?"

"I wish I could tell you yes, honey, but once again, they couldn't prove anything. Naturally, both parents denied any allegations of abuse, and Ryan backed up every story they came up with."

"How could they believe them?"

"I'm afraid the people who are in charge of cases like these are overworked and underpaid. With no real evidence to support the claims and without Ryan's statement, their hands were tied."

"I just can't believe no one did anything to help him. Last night, when you first told me about Ryan, you mentioned his father was in prison. What were things like after his father's arrest?"

"More of the same. From the time of Larry's arrest when Ryan was seven, until his mother married Art four years later, a long list of boyfriends came in and out of their lives. Unfortunately, for her and for Ryan, she didn't have the best taste in men. Not one of them wasn't an ex-con with violent tendencies. Once again, despite all the tell-tale signs of abuse, no one could prove a thing. You think someone would have bothered asking a few more questions. I mean how many times can one kid fall down the stairs?"

"How could a mother let her child be subjected to men like that? I can't imagine letting someone ever hurt Seth."

"I know you couldn't, but Dawn wasn't you. She was an alcoholic and a drug abuser. She was one of those women who thought she needed a man by her side no matter what the consequences were to Ryan. From what I could find, it appears that she and Art were married for less than a year when she died of a drug overdose. It was deemed a suicide."

"I had no idea. What does the file say after that?"

"That's what I meant before, when I said what's not in the file is what's really worrisome. The file just ends there."

"What do you mean it just ends?"

"That's it. There is simply no more information after Dawn's death. No police records, no medical records, nothing from the school. The only thing I know is that at some point after her death, they moved to Chino. I'm not even sure of the exact date."

"But surely the teachers in Chino would have reported the same things as before? They just wouldn't have ignored a kid who came to school with bruises."

"That's the part that really bugs me. I can't find any record of Ryan attending school after they moved."

"Are you trying to tell me he doesn't go to school? How can that be? Wouldn't someone have eventually noticed that he didn't show up for school?"

"Unfortunately, I don't think so. Dawn died in the summer when school was out. They probably moved before the new year started. I assume the people at the school in Fresno knew about her death and the move, and didn't think any more about it."

"Shouldn't someone have realized that a new school never requested his transcripts?"

"I'm afraid it was probably another case of being understaffed. Ryan just fell through the cracks. I'm guilty too. Whenever I get a new case, the school's records are always a part of the file. I remember at the time, thinking it was unusual that I didn't have anything, but I didn't look any further. If Ryan wasn't here with us now, I would have never given it a second thought."

"What do you think we should do?"

"I don't know yet. The bruises on his face, the stiffness in his movement, hell, the kid flinches whenever I get within five feet of him...there is no doubt in my mind that he is being abused. For right now, I think we should wait until my sources find out more about Art before confronting Ryan with what we know."

"And until then?"

"I think the main thing is to try and gain Ryan's trust. He's never admitted to anything in the past. That's how everyone has gotten away with it. He needs to know that we're not the enemy. I'm sure Art and the others have convinced him that if he ever tells he'll just get taken away and put somewhere worse. They may even have him believing he's only getting what he deserves. We have got to let him know that we want to help him. We need to spend some time with him. Let him know that were not a couple of do-gooders. That we honestly do care. And this is where I need to know that you're backing me up. I want him to know that we are not just going to hand him over to social services and forget about him. I'm not sure to what extent our involvement should be, but I think we need to be there for this kid. I want to help him in every way we can. I can't tell you how much I need your support on this."

Kirsten took both his hands in hers and squeezed tightly. "You have it."

Xxxxxxxxxx

Seth was halfway up the front steps when he realized Ryan was no longer behind him. He turned to find Ryan still standing in the driveway, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring at the ground.

"Um, Ryan, what are you doing? Aren't you coming in?"

He hunched his shoulders a bit more, and kicked at a stray rock. "I was thinking, maybe I should walk around to the pool house. You know, wash up first before seeing your parents."

Seth let out an exasperated sigh, and stomped down the steps, throwing his hands in the air. "Oh, for crying out loud. You still don't think they're going to be mad at you over some stupid shirt do you? I don't mean to be sound like a snob, but look at this place." He waved his arm at the house. "Do you honestly believe a ten-dollar t-shirt is a big deal to my parents? I have that much in late fees to the video store every week, and I've never heard a word about it."

"It's not the same, Seth. You're their son. I'm not. Believe me, there's a difference. I have had enough run-ins with my mom's boyfriends and my stepdad to know that people don't appreciate some other guy's kid messing up their stuff."

Seth frowned and cocked his head to the side, studying his new friend. He'd heard kids at school talk about not getting along with their stepparents. He hadn't thought about how Ryan and his stepdad might be like that. Seth realized how stupid he had been. If they had a good relationship, Ryan wouldn't be spending the weekend with them. He decided he was just going to have to show Ryan that his dad was pretty cool about stuff like that. Well, maybe cool wasn't the right word. He was still a dad, and had tendencies to embarrass him in public. But Ryan needed to know that he wouldn't freak out and yell at him over little things.

"I'll bet you a dollar."

"What?"

"I'll bet you a dollar that my folks don't get mad at you over the shirt. I'm not saying Dad won't lecture us about fighting. He's a big backer of the theory that violence never solves anything. He should have been born about fifteen years earlier. He could have been a genuine sixties hippie. You know the whole make love not war philosophy. Of course the thought of my parents and well... you know, that's just gross. Anyway, my point is he's not going to care that you tore his shirt. What do you say? Care to gamble?"

"Seth, I don't even have a dollar."

"Fine. I'll lend you one."

"Won't I just owe you two dollars then?"

"Details, details. Okay. If I win, we'll arm wrestle for two dollars. You'll win that one for sure and then we'll be even-steven. Come on, man. It's a win/win situation. You can't lose."

Ryan couldn't believe Seth. He had a way about making him forget about his worries. He shook his head and laughed. "Sure, why not? Your parents are going to find out sooner or later anyway."

Xxxxxxxxxx

By the time the boys entered the house, Sandy and Kirsten had moved their discussion to the living room.

"Mom, Dad, we're home," Seth proclaimed as they walked into the kitchen. Ryan walked on the other side of him next to the kitchen wall, trying to make sure Seth blocked as much of his parents' view of him as possible. "We're going to the pool house, okay?"

"Whoa there, Seth. Stop and tell us about your afternoon. Ryan, did you have a good time?"

Ryan kept his head bowed. He still had hopes of making it to the pool house without the effects of the fight being noticed. "Yes, thank you." Remembering Mr. Cohen's order that morning regarding eating he added, "Thanks for paying for my lunch. It was good."

"So you did eat?"

"Yes, Dad. Ryan cleaned his plate like a good boy. Well, he almost did. Our meal was kind of interrupted by the two Harbor jocks we got into a fight with."

"Fight? What fight?" Sandy rose from the couch, and took a step toward the kitchen.

"Seth, are you nuts? What are you doing?" Ryan couldn't believe it. They had been so close to getting away. He had even made it as far as the patio doors. Ryan inched closer to the handle, turning the knob, praying that Mr. Cohen wouldn't hear the click as he pulled the door open just an inch.

"Calm down. I'm just proving my point," Seth explained under his breath. He turned back to his parents. "It wasn't really much of a fight. They started hassling us, we rumbled, nothing we couldn't handle. The manager broke it up before Ryan and I could do any real damage to them."

"Seth," Sandy said firmly. "You know how I feel about fighting."

Damn, now Seth was in trouble. Despite Seth blabbing about the fight, Ryan knew he couldn't let him take the blame. After all, the fight had been all his fault. He shouldn't have hit the guy in the first place. Maybe, Seth was right. Maybe his dad wouldn't get too mad. Seth didn't look like he could take much in the way of discipline. He held onto that small bit of hope as he stepped forward, placing himself between Seth and his father. If the man was going to blow up at them, Ryan would take the brunt of the blows, giving Seth enough time to escape.

"The fight was my fault, Mr. Cohen. I threw the first punch. Seth didn't do anything wrong. He didn't even get in one swing." He swallowed the lump in his throat and dared to look them in the eye, giving both parents the first good look at his face. "If you're going to punish someone, it should be me."

He braced himself...waiting.

Kirsten broke the silence. "Oh, Ryan, not your other eye." She motioned to a chair. "Sit down, and let me get some ice for it."

Ryan didn't move. He was still waiting for Sandy's reaction.

"Do as she says, kid."

Ryan cautiously took a seat as Kirsten quickly returned with an ice bag. He reached to take it from her, but she ignored him. She carefully placed it on his newly swollen and black eye, causing him to wince. "Sorry about that. It will only sting for a minute. I want you to hold it here until I tell you to take it off."

"Okay. Um, thank you." He didn't know why Mrs. Cohen was bothering with the ice. Mr. Cohen hadn't even started on him yet. Ryan was sure he would need it a lot more later. He couldn't figure the Cohens out. He had only been in their home one day, but he could already tell that things here were a lot different, and he didn't mean the money. It was difficult for Ryan to understand how things worked here. Life with Art was easy...Ryan screwed up and Art kicked his ass, nothing complicated about that. But here, nothing seemed simple or straightforward. Ryan had never met anyone like them before. People weren't this nice. They had to be playing some sort of odd game with him. He didn't like it. They were managing to make him nervous in ways Art never had.

Sandy pulled out a chair, and sat down in front of Ryan. He noticed the boy's sharp intake of breath, and the slight tremor of his hands. He had no intention of frightening him any more than he already was, but it was important for Ryan to know and understand that he needed to be careful. Now that he had a record, he couldn't be going around getting in fist fights.

"All right, you two, I want to hear the whole story. What exactly happened that caused you to get into a fight?"

"Don't believe Ryan, Dad. The fight wasn't his fault. We were just sitting there minding our own business when those two jerks starting insulting us. We even tried to leave, but they pushed us back down in our chairs. That's when Ryan hit Chet. He couldn't help it."

"You can always avoid a fight, Seth." Sandy turned his full attention on Ryan. "Is what Seth said true? Did the other boys put their hands on you first?"

Ryan shrugged his shoulders in response. He didn't know what difference any of this made. If he was in trouble, and obviously he was, why did it matter who did what first? Art never cared about the details, according to him everything was Ryan's fault.

Sandy was getting frustrated with Ryan never answering him. He wanted to help this kid. But in order to do that Ryan was going to have to open up to him, and that simply was never going to happen if all he ever did was shrug his shoulders.

Sandy leaned forward, placing both hands on his knees, bridging the gap between the two of them. Ryan in response, attempted to scoot farther back in his chair, trying to regain some distance.

"Listen, kid. You've been here less than twenty-four hours, and I've lost track of the number of times you've answered me by shrugging your shoulders."

Ryan removed the compress from his eye, placing it on the table. With both hands, he gripped the arms of the chair until his knuckles turned white. He was ready to bolt. He wished that the doors opened out instead of in; every second counted when you were trying to get away.

"So this is the deal. For the remainder of your stay here, I expect you to actually answer me when I ask a question. I don't need a blow by blow description of every detail down to the exact shade of the sky, like Seth would give me, but I want at least a simple yes or no. Capiche?"

Ryan started to nod before catching himself. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

"I'm glad to hear that. Now, back to my original question. Is that how the fight started?"

"Yes. We tried to leave, but they stopped us, and started to say stuff about me and about Seth. I still hit him first, though. I shouldn't have done that."

"No, you shouldn't have." Sandy reached over and handed the ice bag back to Ryan. "Here, put the ice back on your eye. Kirsten is glaring at me." He waited until Ryan placed it back on his eye. "You should have tried harder to avoid a fight. However, I do realize that is sometimes easier said than done. Bullies like those have been picking on Seth ever since we moved here when he was six."

"Way to ruin my reputation, Dad," Seth interrupted, but Kirsten shushed him, allowing Sandy to continue.

"I can't say as I blame you wanting to knock their lights out. Sometimes, I'm tempted to do the same things to their parents. However, you have got to be more careful, kid. You only got out of juvie yesterday. Until your hearing on Friday, you aren't even technically on parole yet. If the manager had called the cops, you would have been back in juvie so fast your head would still be spinning, and I might not have been able to do anything to help you. I don't want to see that happen. You don't belong in juvie. Try not to let one bad decision land you back there. Okay?"

"Okay," Ryan answered, feeling completely bewildered. That was it? No hitting, no cursing, just talking? He was even more curious than before. Art always said that there were rules to be obeyed and severe consequences for not following them. Didn't these people even know about the rules? What was wrong with them?

It appeared that he had escaped punishment for now, but Ryan was still on edge. He just wanted to go to the seclusion and security of the pool house and try and figure out what was up with this family. He started to ask permission to leave, when he realized that Mr. Cohen was staring at his arm. He had seen the torn shirt sleeve. Ryan couldn't quite read the man's expression, but he certainly didn't look happy.

Finally, Ryan thought. He was finally going to get a reaction he could deal with. Strangely, it was almost a relief. Even though he wasn't relishing the thought of another beating, at least he would be used to that. Anger, fury, violence; those things were normal. No more guessing what was going through Mr. Cohen's mind and waiting for the fall out. He just wished the man would hurry up and get it over with. The waiting was getting unnerving. He began to squirm under Sandy's continuous scrutiny. Self-consciously, he put his hand over the tear, pulling the material together. "I'm sorry about your shirt."

Without saying a word, Sandy slowly reached out and removed Ryan's hand from his shoulder. He could see and feel Ryan beginning to tremble. With one hand he pushed up the sleeve, and with the other he raised Ryan's arm, slighting turning it over to better examine the dark, purple, hand-shaped bruise that encompassed Ryan's upper arm. "How did you get this?"

"I...I don't know. I guess it happened when the manager threw us out."

Seth raised his shirt sleeve and inspected his bicep. "I don't think so, dude. That guy grabbed me too, and I don't have a mark on me."

"Seth's right. There is nothing on his arm, and this bruise is more than just a couple of hours old. It had to hurt when you got it. So what happened?"

Ryan glared at Seth. He had enough of his help for one day. Ryan was beginning to panic. He couldn't think straight; couldn't come up with another story about the bruise. He tried to pull his arm back, but Sandy held firm.

"Not five minutes ago, we discussed how I expect you to answer me when I ask something. I don't want to keep repeating myself. How did you get that bruise? And don't tell me you got it falling off your bike. I can make out the shape of someone's fingers."

I don't want to keep repeating myself. Ryan had heard that same phrase from Art too many times to not respond. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you want me to say. I already told you I don't remember. It could have happened in juvie, or maybe when I got arrested. I...I just don't know." He tried again to pull his arm back. When Sandy still refused to let go, he whispered a desperate and frightened, "Please."

Sandy knew Ryan was lying to him, but he was unsure what to do. As much as he wanted to stop Ryan from continuing to cover for his stepfather, it was impossible to ignore how scared and intimidated Ryan was of him. It would do no good to keep pushing. Sandy had to remind himself that for right now his main goal was to get Ryan to trust him. If he continued to bully him into answering him, he would only be confirming Ryan's fears.

He let go of Ryan's arm. "Okay, kid. If you say you don't remember, I believe you." Not really knowing what else to do at the moment, Sandy checked the time. "It's getting close to dinner. You better get cleaned up. I'll order some take-out."

"Aren't we going to eat at the fashion show?" Seth asked.

Kirsten and Sandy looked at each other with equally stunned expressions. With everything going on with Ryan, they had completely forgotten about the evening's charity event. Kirsten's eyes darted to Ryan, signaling to Sandy that they now had something else to discuss in regards to Ryan.

"Good point, Seth. I hadn't thought about that. You guys still need to get cleaned up, so you both better get going. I have to discuss some things with your mother."

"Smooth, Dad, real smooth. Ryan and I have no idea that you guys want to talk about him in private."

"Son, would you please try and not make this any more awkward than it already is?"

"Fine, whatever. Come on, Ryan. Let's leave so my folks can not talk about you."

Ryan rose from the chair and turned toward the patio doors. "Wait a minute, Ryan." He froze at the sound of Kirsten's voice. "What's all over the back of your shirt?"

He quickly spun around. "Nothing."

"Yes there is. Let me see." She walked over to him, trying to get behind him, but he took a step backwards, pressing himself against the doors. He heard the door latch shut, in his attempt to stop any further examination, he had managed to trap himself.

This was getting too much for Ryan. First his face, then his arm, and now his back. He was used to adults giving him the bruises; not worrying about where about where and how he got them.

"Have you told us everything that happened during the fight?" Kirsten took his arm and gently tried to turn him so she could see. "Ryan, please. I want to see your back."

He sighed and bowed his head, defeated. There was no way out of this one. Ironically, it was Seth who saved him.

"Food."

Both parents looked at Seth. "Excuse me?"

"It's food, from the fight at the restaurant. One of the guys tackled Ryan and knocked over a tray of food on his way down. It was amazing; burgers, fries, chili dogs, you name it. They all went flying through the air. Actually, in retrospect it reminds me of an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants, where he and Squidwards get into a fight at the Krusty Krab." This time Seth heeded Ryan's silent warning. "But that's a story for another time."

"Are you sure you're not hurt?"

"He's fine, Mom. We walked the entire way home, and he didn't say a word about it. We're men. Tough as nails and all that." Before his father could give him another lecture about answering for Ryan, he quickly said, "Let's go, Ryan. Before I start getting ready for tonight, I'd like to show you some classic comic books that I have stored out in the pool house. Your knowledge in that area is seriously lacking, and I feel that I should take it upon myself to educate you."

Seth nudged Ryan out of the way and opened the door. He positioned himself so that neither parent could see the back of Ryan's shirt. Ryan smiled his gratitude to Seth, forgiving him for his so-called help the other times that afternoon. Maybe Seth wasn't as clueless as he had originally thought.

tbc

Thank Yous: I need to thank loracj2, beachtree, finlee, and fifimom for helping me out with questions regarding home security and gated communities. I may have written some things in regards to this incorrectly, but it's how I wanted it to work for the purposes of this story.

Also, for their help in questions regarding the Cohens' household I need to thank 60schic, loracj2, smc36, and beachtree. Big thank yous to Katwoman76 who in helping me gave me pretty pictures of Ryan to look at and Millstone1005 who actually watched a Season 3 episode to try and figure out if Seth had a bathroom in his room (that will come up in chapter 7)