Obvious FYI: I don't own anything that even remotely has to do with The O.C.!

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Sandy drove as fast as he could down the narrow pathway that the Italians called a street. More than once, the car slipped on the ice and Sandy had to swerve to avoid fishtailing. Kirsten was talking to Ryan the whole time. She was mumbling words of comfort perhaps more to herself than to her son.

"How's he doing?" Sandy asked, looking in the rear view mirror, hoping to get a glimpse of Ryan.

"He's still bleeding!" Kirsten replied with desperation in her voice as she gently lifted a piece of the scarf which she immediately regretted. From what Kirsten could gather, Ryan had a deep gash, easily five inches long, right above his left ear and across his temple. Blood was spilling everywhere and all Kirsten could do was wipe it away from his eyes and mouth. The scarf around Ryan's head was now almost all red.

After what seemed like ages, they finally reached the center of the small town, and Sandy pulled up to what looked like a busy grocery store. It was the closest building he could find. Sandy jumped out of the car and ran into the store, nearly knocking over a little old lady carrying a paper bag full of food.

"Please! Please help me! Do you speak English?!" Sandy charged up to a well dressed man who simply stared at the frantic father. "English! Do you speak English?!" Sandy yelled again, this time taking the man by the lapels. The Italian stepped back and retorted something Sandy didn't understand.

Sandy turned to another man. Everyone began to stare at the scene. The cashiers stopped scanning and the customers stood in awe at the crazy foreigner. Sandy was yelling again and waving his hands in an effort to stress the seriousness of the situation. A man who he guessed must be the manager came walking swiftly up to him.

"Please! You have to help me! My son is in the car. He hit his head there's blood everywhere! We need the hospital. Please does anyone speak English?!" Sandy didn't care how big of a scene he was making. Tears of frustration began to well in his eyes and he let out a strangled cry and turned away from the manager's grip.

"English you say?" a young boy with a moderate accent appeared from the back of the crowd. Sandy's head snapped up.

"Yes! Please! You speak English?" Sandy ran towards the boy.

"I learn English in school. What do you need? Your son?" the boy was trying to understand the situation.

"I need the hospital! We need help! He's in the car. Where is the hospital?" Sandy was talking so fast he was nearly spitting.

"Where you car?" The boy asked as he tried to keep pace with Sandy as they ran outside into the cold. The two ran the short distance down the sidewalk.

"Follow this road down to end. Left turn. Signs say, 'O' for hospital. Follow arrows. Not big far. Ok?" the boy finished. He was confident in his directions, but hoped he conveyed it correctly.

"Yes, thank you!" Sandy called as he jumped back into the car.

"You're welcome! Hope son be good!" the boy's voice was lost in the wind and the loud noise the car made as it spun through the snowy street.

"Kirsten?" Was all that Sandy could say when he pulled the car back onto the street.

"Nothing," Kirsten replied as she kept squeezing her son's hand. Seth looked almost as white as the snow. Fear showed sharply across his face and his eyes were wide. No witty remarks or jokes. The situation was becoming more and more real to him the longer Ryan stayed un-responsive.

All that Sandy could focus on was the road. He didn't allow himself to become mesmerized by the beautiful snowflakes falling onto the windshield. When was the last time he'd driven in snow?

Somehow 'not big far' seemed like the longest trip of the Cohens' lives. Sandy had turned at least seven times following the blessed 'O' signs. Finally Seth spotted what appeared to be a small hospital. This time, both Sandy and Seth jumped out of the car leaving Kirsten still putting pressure on Ryan's head.

Sandy was bracing himself for a similar situation to the grocery store. He felt even more helpless not knowing how to communicate his son's dire situation. A nurse walked by and Sandy grabbed her arm, startling her.

"Please, you have to help us. My son's in the car. He's unconscious and bleeding. He hit his head. Do you speak English?" Sandy recognized the look of confusion on her face.

"English?" she replied.

"Yes! English! Yes?" Sandy felt like shaking her.

She muttered something in Italian and called for a nearby employee. Someone who Seth decided was an orderly came up to the nurse and conversed in Italian.

"I can translate. I am Chaska. What is wrong?" the orderly with a strong accent and a very literal cadence questioned.

"We need a doctor! My brother is in the car bleeding to death and no one in this fucking town speaks English!" Seth finally let his anger out. Sandy glared at him but said nothing.

"I will get doctors," Chaska nodded as he ran off down the hall. Soon two doctors and two nurses came running towards the emergency entrance with a gurney.

The group ran to the car and Sandy flung open the back door surprising Kirsten. The medical staff were shouting in Italian when they got one look at Ryan.

"What happened? What's his name?" Chaska asked Sandy.

"Ryan. He slipped on the icy stairs. We didn't put the ice melt on. He hit his head badly on the railing," Sandy replied. Chaska translated as the doctors loaded Ryan onto the gurney.

"How long has he been unconscious?" was translated.

"About 30 minutes now. His head hasn't stopped bleeding. Please help him!" Kirsten cried. Chaska relayed the information. One doctor was unwrapping the saturated scarf from Ryan's head while the other was checking the teen's pupils. A nurse was unbuttoning Ryan's jacket. More Italian shouting made Seth cry. He felt so helpless.

"Follow us," Chaska called as the doctors wheeled Ryan into the hospital. They whisked Ryan down the hall leaving a stunned Cohen family.

"What's happening?!" Kirsten asked panicking at the fact that her critically injured son was being rushed away from her. Who was she to know what they were doing to him?

"Your son is very hurt. They are taking him to a room to examine him more. They are most likely going to air lift him to a hospital in Venice. We aren't a big facility and your son needs intense care," Chaska replied putting his hand on Kirsten's shoulder in a comforting way that somehow relaxed Kirsten. "I'm sorry. I will go find out more and update you." With that, the slow-talking orderly left.

Seth sank into a chair in the waiting room and his parents sat down beside him, neither of them talking. Not too long later, Chaska returned with a clipboard in his hands.

"They are taking your son to St. Francis Hospital in Venice. He is in very bad shape," Chaska said grimly as he read from a paper where he had scribbled notes from the doctors. "He has a skull fracture and they suspect he has bleeding in his head. They cannot operate here or do further tests so they are going to air lift him to the city. This is a form, you have to sign for it. Please do this now," Chaska continued as he held out a pen for Sandy to sign the consent form. Sandy was happy to see that it was written in English. "We have many languages for forms," Chaska smiled as he noticed Sandy's understanding. Sandy nodded in appreciation.

The Cohens followed Chaska's directions to St. Francis hospital in Venice. The trip was nearly an hour and was spent in silence as Sandy, Seth, and Kirsten were lost in thought.

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As soon as Ryan arrived in the helicopter, commotion was all around him. He hadn't responded to any stimuli the whole journey. His right pupil was blown and his left was sluggish. A translator had been brought down to the emergency room to try and coax Ryan back to consciousness.

"Ryan? Ryan can you hear me?" the American nurse called. No response. "Ryan, move your hand if you can hear me." Nothing. Not like he could have anyway as he was being prepped for a CT scan next door and was being intubated.

The CT scan revealed a major lesion on his left temporal lobe. There was a severe skull depression around the area as well and pressure was building up through the left side of his head. Before the Cohens even crossed the Venice city line, Ryan was in surgery.

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Sandy parked the rental car in the hospital parking lot and the family ran through the hospital doors, desperately looking for someone who spoke English. It was now after three a.m. California time and they were all running on fumes.

All three of them quickly found the front desk and luckily it wasn't long before an English speaking employee directed them to the surgical waiting room promising further information.

That information came six hours later when two doctors and a translator tiredly emerged from the operating room. Sandy and Kirsten jumped up, the latter waking Seth.

"How is he?" Kirsten whispered. She followed the doctors' leads and sat down.

"Ryan is seriously injured," the translator began as he listened to the doctors' reports. "The impact of the banister fractured his skull along the side of his head right here," the Italian doctor pointed to his own head, marking with his finger right above his left ear. "He also has a fracture right here." The doctor pointed right near his left eye.

Tears slowly rolled down Kirsten's cheeks. Sandy just stared at the translator and Seth's eyes were wide as he looked at the carpet.

"The fracture caused a bit of his temporal bone to depress into the brain causing a large gathering of blood in one of the protective layers of the brain, also referred to as a serious subdural hematoma. His brain also swelled significantly on the left side. As you know, we operated to relieve the pressure and take care of the bleed." The translator stopped as he looked at the doctors for more information.

"What?" Sandy suddenly caught on as he looked between the doctors and the translator.

"Ryan has sustained a major head injury. You need to understand the seriousness of the situation. There will be damage. Right now we are unclear how much, but he is in critical condition. We are also unsure of the amount of vision he will regain in his left eye. The skull is fractured around his eye socket which is now pressed on an optical nerve. We repaired the fracture but the outcome of the trauma will be decided when the swelling goes down." The translator stopped again as the doctors looked at the family.

"Can we see him?" Kirsten asked quietly.

"Ryan is in recovery now but will be moved to our intensive care unit soon. The situation is very serious and the chances of him making it through the night are low. However he has youth on his side and we were able to get a bit of a reaction out of him after surgery," the translator continued, looking at the doctors and the Cohens.

"Now what?" Seth finally spoke.

"We wait and pray," Sandy answered.