1Title: A Twist of Fate
Ratings/Warnings: This chapter is extremely tame. You do have to put up with Caleb for one short scene, but at least he's not Art.
Beta: loracj2. I usually ask her to look over each chapter twice, but I'm so sick of this one hanging over my head, I went ahead and posted it. I claim all punctuation errors as all mine.
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
Note: I believe I might have said that I wouldn't actually have Caleb appear in this story. Well, you know what a pompous ass he can be. He simply refused to be put on the back burner and managed to bully his way right into this chapter. However, as opposed to canon's version of Kirsten, I promise that I won't let him be mean to Ryan (who doesn't even appear in this chapter).
Twist of Fate: Chapter Sixteen
Kirsten sat at her desk, staring straight ahead. A proposal that desperately needed her attention lay strewn, untouched, in front of her. It had been four days since Ryan's disappearance and thoughts of the boy rarely left her mind.
It was her fault he had run away.
If only she hadn't been so cautious. Ryan would be home right now. Instead, he was God only knew where, with a monster. She dropped her head into her hands. Her heart ached at the thought of what he must be going through.
For the lifer of her, she couldn't remember why she had been so reluctant to let Ryan live with them. At the time, she'd had her reasons...good, solid, logical reasons. They'd only known him for a few days. It was too soon to make such a life changing decision. She needed more time.
Time.
If she could turn back the hands of time, she would do it all differently. She'd trust her instincts, throw caution to the wind, and follow her heart, not her mind.
Just like Sandy.
He blamed her.
He never said it. Never so much as even implied it, but she knew. She could see it in his eyes...the disappointment.
Ryan might have trusted her more, but it was Sandy who had come through for him. From the beginning, he hadn't cared about Ryan's background or his record. He'd only cared about him. Sandy had wanted to offer Ryan more than just a place to stay. He'd wanted to give Ryan a home.
And what had she done? She had taken the opportunity to open her heart and her home to a child who needed them and thrown it away. She had made the biggest mistake of her life, and she vowed if given a second chance, she would make it right.
"Kiki."
Her father's voice startled her back to reality.
"Have you looked at the proposal yet?"
"Proposal?" she asked, her mind still not on work.
He frowned.
"Yes, Kirsten, the proposal I gave to you last night. The same one you promised me you would look at first thing this morning. And it's now," he checked his watch, "three o'clock in the afternoon."
"Yes, of course." She started shuffling the papers in front of her. "I just need a few more minutes."
Caleb's frown deepened.
"You're still not thinking about that juvenile delinquent, are you?"
"His name is Ryan and he's not a delinquent, Dad."
"I'm sorry. I thought you'd told me he'd stolen a car and that Sandy had been assigned as his lawyer. I assumed that was how this whole mess with the little thief got started."
Kirsten rubbed her forehead. Talking to her father about Ryan always gave her a headache. "He did steal a car, Dad, but that doesn't mean he's a thief."
"Really," Caleb replied, his voice condescending. "Then what does it mean?"
"It means that there is a boy out there who needed . . . no, who needs our protection."
"Humph," he snorted in disgust.
"As for the mess you talk about," Kirsten continued. " The only mess is the one I created by not being willing to help a scared kid."
"How can you say that, Kirsten? You did everything imaginable to help that boy."
"It wasn't enough."
"Enough? What else were you to do? He needed a place to stay for the weekend and you let him into your home. He was hungry and in need of decent attire and you fed and clothed him. He was injured and you tried to get him to seek medical attention. You did all of that, when instead you should have just handed the boy over to the proper authorities. I dare say you gave him a damn sight more than he ever deserved."
"Every child deserves to be cared for, to feel safe and protected."
"Be that as it may, that boy was still not your responsibility."
"Yes, he was, Dad. I can't explain it to you, but I can't shake the feeling we let him down."
"You're being ridiculous. You extended him every ounce of courtesy, including offering to let him live with you for an indefinite amount of time, until... How did you put it? A suitable and proper home opened up. From everything you told me, anywhere would have been a considerable improvement over his previous situation. And might I add, that you did all of that without my permission or at the very least consulting me."
"There wasn't time, Dad. Besides, it didn't concern you."
"Kiki, have you forgotten that I'm the one who built and paid for the house that you and your family live in? Everything that goes on in there concerns me."
"Not everything, Dad," Kirsten said with a rueful smile.
He gave her a stern look.
"Don't be crass, Kiki. It's not becoming of you."
"I'm sorry, but you've got to realize that not everything in my life or my family's directly relates to you. You didn't even meet Ryan. You can't possibly understand what we're all going through since Ryan was kidnapped."
"You can't be sure of that. You said yourself that he crawled out a window. For all you know, he arranged for his stepfather to meet him after he was through taking advantage of you. I hope you had the good sense to count the good silver after he left."
"Honestly, Dad." Kirsten hadn't thought the comment funny when Seth said it a week ago, and it certainly wasn't funny now. "His stepfather is a cruel monster. I refuse to believe that Ryan went with him willingly. I don't understand how can you be so cold-hearted?"
"And I don't understand how you can be so gullible." He spoke to her with a tone of complete exasperation. It was the same one he had used when she was a small child and had caught her playing with the maid's daughter. Her father had been furious. He sternly warned each girl that they needed to remember their place in the household. Later that evening, Caleb reprimanded her, saying that she shouldn't lower herself like that. He had even went so far as to say the other girl was only being nice because Kirsten had expensive toys.
"You're too much like your mother. You let your emotions cloud your better judgment."
Kirsten almost laughed at the irony. That was exactly what she should have done.
"Did you consider your son in this equation?" Caleb continued. "How bringing a common street urchin into your home could have affected him?"
"Seth is devastated, Dad. He hasn't left the house for fear of missing a call from Ryan."
"That's exactly what I'm talking about." He pointed an accusing finger at Kirsten. "Don't you find it a bit odd that Seth has been so distraught over this boy leaving? I hope you were cautious enough to supervise their time together. I wouldn't be surprised if that boy turned out to be some kind of hustler as well as a thief."
"Dad!" Kirsten's head snapped up in disbelief at what her father was implying.
"Now, Kiki," he began holding his hand up to stop her from saying anything further. "I love Seth, but you have to admit there is something not quite right about him. He has no interest in money, power, or this company. I could blame Sandy for some of his lofty ideals, but what about his lack of social skills? I've watched him at benefits and parties. To put it mildly, he's obviously uncomfortable around kids his own age. He has no friends, let alone a girlfriend. This Ryan character could have picked up on that and tried to take advantage of Seth's awkwardness."
Kirsten rose from her desk, her anger visible in her stance.
"I refuse to listen to another word of such utter nonsense. Not only are you out of line, Dad, but you have no idea what you're talking about. Seth and Ryan developed a normal friendship, nothing more. There wasn't even the slightest hint of what you're implying." Her voice rose and became more agitated with each sentence.
"Now, Kiki. There's no reason to get your dander up. I was just saying that Seth is . . . "
"A late bloomer. That's all. I'm sure once school starts up again, he'll have found his niche and have plenty of friends and a girlfriend. Give him some time. He's only fifteen."
"I'm sorry. I guess I'm just comparing him to myself at that age."
"Things were different for you as a teenager. You had to be strong and independent. You didn't have anyone to help you. You were on your own . . . just like Ryan."
"You're not honestly comparing me to that inland street thug, are you? We have nothing in common. We both may have come from less than humble beginnings, but that is where the similarities begin and end. I managed to pull myself up by my boot straps to become the man I am today. My accomplishments can be credited to hard work and determination, not by committing petty crimes."
"How can you stand there and spout such sanctimonious garbage? You have been involved in more than your fair share of shady deals."
"I have never stooped so low as to be a common thief."
Kirsten was almost shaking from fury.
"Dad, I've heard the rumors. Blackmail. Extortion. Bribes. You're so right, those are much more acceptable crimes than stealing a car." Even Caleb couldn't miss the sarcasm in her voice.
"Be that as it may, you need to realize that the boy's lot in life was cast long before he spent the weekend in your pool house. With or without you and your husband's intervention, he was and still is destined to end up laying face down in a gutter somewhere. With his background, it's inevitable. I'm sorry."
"No, I'm the one who's sorry. I'm sorry that you're so callous and unfeeling that not even an ounce of compassion can penetrate your cold heart."
She grabbed her purse and jacket and walked out from behind her desk.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"I'm taking the afternoon off."
"You can't do that. I won't allow it. There's work to be done. I refuse to grant you any personal time."
"Fine. Then consider it a sick day. It's the truth. Listening to you for the past fifteen minutes has made me ill."
She stormed past her father and out the door without giving him time to respond.
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Sandy sat at his desk, the mirror image of Kirsten before her fight with Caleb. Files were accumulating by the hour, but he couldn't bring himself to open even one of them.
He did only what he had to do this past week, and nothing more. He chose cases that required no thought or effort. They were all cut and dry, so no trials would be necessary. He pled the cases down as much as he could an moved on to the next.
His coworkers noticed and commented on his lack of enthusiasm.
"Sandy Cohen is the hero of the downtrodden youth of California," they teased. "Where has his trademark fire gone?"
Right out his bathroom window, along a fifteen-year-old kid that haunted his every thought.
Sandy looked at the files on his desk. He was a fraud. He couldn't help these kids. Sure, he talked a good game and kept them out of Juvie as best he could. But when it really mattered, when he could have really made a difference, he had failed.
It was his fault Ryan had run away.
How could he have been so full of himself? He was so positive that he was going to be Ryan's savior that he hadn't stop to think things through. He remembered all the times he had managed to frighten or intimidate Ryan over the weekend. It didn't really matter that every time had been an accident. It only mattered that he hadn't bothered learning from his mistakes.
He had known all about Ryan's history with male authority figures. He knew how Art treated and manipulated him. And yet, none of that stopped him from pushing Ryan too hard. The only reason Ryan even considered testifying against Art was because he had bullied and guilted him into it. He had wanted and expected Ryan to trust him, but in the end, he had tried to use him . . . just like Art.
Ryan was a smart kid, who had been through more than anyone should ever have to experience. With his past, he probably figured that once Sandy was through with him and the trial, he would abandon him like countless others had done. Sandy had done nothing to make him think otherwise.
The promises to stay with them as long as needed, to keep in touch; they must have sounded like nothing more than empty words to a kid like Ryan.
Sandy should have been more cautious, more levelheaded. He should have been more like Kirsten.
He sensed that Ryan felt more at ease with her, but he had still taken control of almost every situation. The scene with Ryan huddled on the kitchen floor didn't count. He had only stepped back because Kirsten demanded it. And, truthfully, he had been slightly resentful. After all, he was the one who had brought Ryan home. He was the one with all the experience dealing with troubled kids. How could someone like Kirsten, with her wealthy background, relate better to Ryan?
But she did. It was no different Monday morning. He should have waited for her to join them in the bedroom before starting to talk to Ryan. How long would she have been . . . five, ten minutes? If he had the slightest amount of patience, the whole conversation could have gone differently. At the time, he had justified his decision by believing that he was acting out of concern for Ryan, that making that poor nervous kid wait any longer was cruel, but Sandy knew the truth. Ryan hadn't been the only one anxious to start the conversation. And maybe, just a little bit, Sandy had wanted to the opportunity to prove that he, and he alone, was the one who could finally get this kid to open up and trust someone else.
It didn't matter that he'd had the good sense to make sure Kirsten had stayed with them during the second attempt in the pool house. It was too late by then.
Thoughts of the pool house only served to bring up more regrets. Sandy couldn't believe the way he had spoken to Ryan Sunday night. Was it any wonder Ryan didn't want to stay with them? Sandy had made the pool house sound like some sort of glass prison, where his every move would be watched. He might as well have threatened to chain the kid to the furniture.
He had encouraged Ryan to talk all weekend, but not once had he bothered listening to what Ryan didn't say; that he was confused and scared and desperately needed help, but didn't know how to ask for it.
Sandy sighed and pounded his fist on the desk. What he wouldn't give for a chance to do it all over again.
For the third time in as many hours, Sandy pulled out his cell phone to check for messages or missed calls. Even as he flipped the phone open, he knew it was pointless. There was no chance that he would have missed the phone ringing. Since replacing the broken one Monday afternoon, he had never once turned it off.
After the computerized voice told him that he had no messages, Sandy tried to squelch the surge of guilt he was experiencing as he dialed Dave McKinney's number. He was making a pest of himself and he knew it, but at the same time he didn't care. After alerting the police of Ryan's kidnapping the next phone call he had made had been to the private investigator. As a favor to Sandy, Dave had made Ryan top priority.
Sandy knew Dave would call if he found anything new, but he still couldn't stop himself from pushing the numbers on the phone. He called him at least four times a day. As expected, the call went directly to voice mail. Like clockwork, Dave would call him every day after work and inform Sandy of what he had done to try and find Ryan that day. However, he had stopped answering his phone sometime Wednesday, after Sandy had called him six times concerning a lead that had gone nowhere.
"Hey, Dave. It's Sandy again. I know you've talked to those buddies of Art's a couple of times already, but I was just thinking, maybe you could sweeten the pot for them. Let them know that I would really make it worth their while if they all of a sudden remembered where Art could have taken Ryan. Maybe you could do the same for some of the people he knew back in Fresno. Money's no object. Thanks again. I'll talk to you later."
He shut the phone and rubbed his eyes before glancing at his watch. It was three-fifteen. He buzzed his secretary and told her he would be leaving for the day. There was no point sitting here and doing nothing. He might as well go home and see how Seth was doing. As the saying went... misery loves company.
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GAME OVER!
The message flashed across the screen and Seth couldn't help but think how the blinking green neon message summarized his very existence.
He leaned over and turned off the television and flopped back on the couch, throwing an arm over his face. One weekend. For one lousy weekend, he'd almost been normal. He'd had someone his own age to hang out with and to talk to. He'd finally had a friend.
Sure, their friendship had some complications. Ryan being shipped off to a group home would have been a bummer, but that wouldn't have lasted forever. Seth was positive that he and his dad would have eventually worn his mom down to the point where she would have agreed to let Ryan come live with them permanently. That would have been awesome.
And what had he done? He'd screwed it up. Staring at the spare game controller, he couldn't fight back the guilt he felt.
It was all his fault Ryan had run away.
When Ryan had needed a friend, he'd been selfish, needy, and completely inconsiderate to Ryan's feelings. He was no different than the Newpsies-in-training that he mocked at school. Excluding Summer of course. She was different. He meant girls more like that bleached-blonde airhead she was always hanging out with.
Then it hit him and hit him hard. He leaned over burying his face into a cushion and pounded the cushioned armrest of the couch. He realized with complete and utter disgust that he had somehow managed to turn himself into Holly Fisher with a Jewfro. How could he have sunk so low?
Seth rolled over , propping his feet over the back of the couch, and wondered if his parents knew how big a hypocrite he really was. Seth knew they blamed him for Ryan running away. They had never actually said it, but how could they not? After all, when they left the room, Ryan was fine. Okay, fine was probably pushing it, but after five minutes alone with him, Ryan resorted to jumping out a window. He had to hand to it to them. His parents were obviously disappointed in him, but they never said a word. Of course, that would have meant actually speaking to each other, something they rarely did anymore.
He thought more about his parents and how he should have tried to be more like them, a thought that normally would have sent shivers of revulsion running down his spine.
Maybe he should have been more like his mom.
She wouldn't have felt the need to incessantly talk, and pester Ryan with endless questions. Maybe Ryan ran away to get some peace and quiet.
But it wasn't as if he hadn't tried to be quiet, because he had. He'd tried really, really hard...well, at least for him. He just didn't have it in him to not talk, unlike like his mom. Seth knew she could go for hours without saying a word. He didn't know how she did it. It
simply wasn't natural. He would explode if he was quiet for that long. He wondered if all these years of living with him and his dad had anything to do with it.
However, there was something to be said for knowing when to shut up and listen. His mom was really good at that. Countless times when he was growing up, she had managed to get him to dig his own grave by letting him ramble on until he eventually confessed to whatever crime he had committed. And then there were all the times he just needed to vent. He didn't talk to his mom as much as he used to when he was younger. But he remembered all the times in elementary and middle school when he would come home upset because of being bullied, teased, or worse...ignored. She would sit at the kitchen table and just listen to him. There were times she barely said a word, but somehow she always made him feel better.
He shook his head in frustration. Who was he kidding?
He should have been more like his dad.
After all, he was his father's son. For the two of them, talking was just the same as breathing, except that his dad always seemed to know the right thing to say. He never seemed to put his foot in his mouth, except of course when it came to talking to Mom about his grandpa. But Seth suspected his dad did that on purpose.
His father would have never rambled on about prisons, watchdogs and babysitters. Seth cringed, remembering the expression on his father's face when he questioned him about what he said to Ryan while they were out of the room.
"If you could just give me a second chance," he vowed to Jesus and Moses, "I swear I won't make the same mistakes again."
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Sandy stopped and waited for Kirsten on the front steps when he saw her car pull up the driveway.
"You're home early," he observed.
"I could say the same for you."
"I couldn't concentrate."
"Neither could I."
"Ryan?" Sandy asked even though he already knew the answer.
"What else? I don't suppose you heard..."
"Not a word. I'm sure Dave will call with an update later this afternoon."
He held out his arm in front of him and they both started walking toward the front door.
She stopped, her hand resting on the knob and turned towards him. "Do you think he found anything out today?"
"Honestly?" he asked.
"No." She sighed and closed her eyes. "Yes."
"No, honey, I don't think he found a damn thing, and I've got to admit, I'm beginning to lose hope."
"Me too." She reached out and grasped his forearm. "What are we going to do? I'm not working, you're not working and our son hasn't left the house in days. We can't go on like this."
He pulled her close and for a moment she let herself be lulled by the warmth of his embrace.
He stroked her hair and tried to comfort her. "It's going to be okay, honey."
"You can't be sure of that." Her voice was thick with emotion.
"It's not even been a week yet," Sandy reminded her. "We can't give up hope yet. Come Monday morning we'll try something else."
"Like what? We can't do anything else."
"Yes, we can, baby. I don't know what we're going to do or how we're going to do it , but I swear to you, we are going to find that boy."
She looked up at him. "I love you."
"Good," he said while wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Because I love you too." He turned and opened the door for her. "Come on, for now, let's just try and concentrate on making through the weekend."
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When Seth looked up and saw both of his parents home early, he leapt off the couch and ran towards them. He stopped short the second he saw their faces.
"When you both came home early, I thought that maybe..."
"I'm sorry, son." Sandy put his hand on Seth's shoulder. "We should have realized what it must have looked like. I'm afraid it was just a case of neither one of us being in the mood to work."
"Speaking of working," Seth began, "what about that detective of yours? What's he been doing all of this time? I hear you on the phone with him. He hasn't done squat to help us find Ryan."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?" Seth's voice began to rise. "Then where's Ryan right now? Can you tell me if he's still even in this state?"
"Seth..."
"No, Dad, you can't. What kind of bozo did you hire anyway?"
"We're doing everything we can to find Ryan." Kirsten reached out to him, but he backed away.
"Don't lie to me. Do you even care that he's probably getting the crap beat out of him by his stepfather?"
"Of course we care."
"Then do something!" Seth was almost screaming at his parents.
"Just what do you expect me to do, Seth?" His father's voice matching his. "We spent all day Monday driving around looking for traces of him and Art. Your mother and I hired the best detective money could buy."
"Well, isn't that just the Newport way? When there's a problem just throw money at it."
"That's enough, both of you," Kirsten demanded stepping between her husband and son. "This isn't helping anything. We have a long night ahead of us and we don't need to be at each others' throats."
"What makes this night any different than the last four?" Seth asked suspiciously.
"Sweetie, it's Casino Night."
"I'm not going." He crossed his arms over his chest.
"We have to go. I'm one of the main organizers."
"Fine." He flopped down on the couch. "You and Dad go. I'm staying here."
"Seth," Sandy warned, but Seth ignored him.
"Forget it. You can't possibly expect to sit through an entire evening of Newpsies with a big fake smile plastered on my face, do you? I won't do it."
"Please, sweetie?" Kirsten asked her voice tired pleading. "We won't stay long I promise."
Seth had never seen his mom quite like this before. She seemed so worn down. He felt himself weaken.
"How long?"
"Cocktails are at six. We eat at seven. We can leave by ten."
"Nine," he countered.
"Deal." Both Sandy and Kirsten said, smiling down at their son.
"However, I want it on the record that I'm going under protest."
"We understand. Thank you for joining us."
"Well," Seth said turning back on the t.v. "It's only for three hours. I doubt anything will happen in that length of time."
tbc
Author's note: Sorry it took so long for this chapter to be posted. I know this probably wasn't what you wanted. But as you can probably tell, this story is beginning to wind down. There should only be two, possibly three chapters left. I will try my best to keep the time between posts down to weeks instead of months. Thanks for your patience. And