A/N.:I just wanted to warn you: if you don't find the story it'll be because I have to rate it M for some adult reasons in the following chapters ;) Have fun and enjoy

I can't

I'm still tired from last evening. Listening to what Ryan had said hit me hard. I have stayed awake all night thinking about what we've done wrong. Why didn't he accept us as his family? Didn't we do enough to make him believe and trust us? Or can't he trust and believe us, because of what had happened to him? I only want him to be my son so bad that sentences like this one make my heart break into pieces. I stare out the window of our bedroom. I took the day off. I'm too tired because of the lack of sleep and someone has to watch Ryan. I'm so afraid he might break down again. Maybe the next time it wouldn't as lightly as the first one. I'm so scared of loosing him that I forget about the fact that I never had him. It's time to react. My husband is right. Maybe what Mrs. Turner said is the only solution for him and us. A knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts. I turn around and look into this sad face. Guilt is written all over it.

"Can…can I come in?" He asks shyly and again with every word his voice gets lower and lower.

"Sure." I say and make some space, so he can sit down next to me on the bed. "Sit down." I say. Dark circles under his eyes tell me he hasn't had a better night than I. Only Sandy is capable of sleeping after days like the last one.

"I…I didn't mean to hurt you…yesterday…it'…if I had known that what I said…hurts you I…wouldn't have said it." He whispers.

"May I ask you a question?" I ask him. He nods. "What makes it that difficult to believe that we love you, like our own son?" He doesn't look at me and I don't expect an answer. This question is too close to his sore points as if he dares to answer it.

"If your Mum calls you a mistake and only watches when you get your ass kicked for no reason. And your Dad doesn't care enough for you to not to risk his life in some stupid war. What do you expect?" He says calm, but quiet. I don't know how to react. Did I really expect he understands what family means for us – those that grew up in a stable family or at least in one without violence and addictions.

"And due the whole months that you stay with us, you didn't notice that things are different here?" I try to understand him, but I fail. I can't understand his motives.

"Uh…I…dunno…noticed yes…but…I can't …you grew up with your definition of family and you live it and…I with mine…it's …not that I don't want to adapt…I…" I look at him. My heart breaks at his struggle for words.

"I…can't…no matter how bad I want to." He's telling me so much about his inner conflict, but I have no idea what it is supposed to mean. What does it mean when he says he can't adapt to our way of family? Why can't he? Where's his barrier. I see I have to help him. But I can't. I'm paralyzed every time when he tries to explain me things like these. It's just too hard to accept.

"And what are we supposed to do about it? It can't go on like this any longer." He shrugs his shoulders. I take him into my arms. As if this gesture could change anything in his inside. But I want to make him able to be part of this family. I want it that bad and I'm willing to do everything for it. I can't see him any longer this sad and distant.

"We all need help in this."

"You…shouldn't…be burdened with my…emotional problems." He says and struggles out of my arms.

"Stop talking like that." I see fear in his eyes – panic.

"I…sorry…I can't do this…it's just too much." He says and storms out of the room. I follow him.

"Ryan, what's wrong with you?" I call after him. The sudden change in his behaviour frightens me.

"Ryan, wait…we can work it out…just…" He doesn't listen to me and the last thing I hear is the door shut. I sigh. I let him go. I don't want to push him too hard right now, as it had cost him a lot courage open up to me like that. I know I have grounded him, but he hadn't stuck to it last night and I doubt if I punish him further it would lead to anything. He's used to punishment and if breaking their rules meant more punishment he even broke these. I still see his cold eyes, after Sandy had slapped his face. He had provoked it. He had made my husband's blood boil and hell knows what it took to get him that far to the edge. Sometimes I ask myself whether Ryan wouldn't be better of, if we hadn't taken him in. Maybe it had been better if we had let him stay in this foster home and just had stuck to our from-Monday- to-Friday-solution until we had been able to turn it step by step into a permanent stay. Maybe this change had been way too fast for him.

"Hey Mum!" My son comes home from school. Ryan's still not back and I hope Seth might bring him back, but he's alone.

"Hi honey, how was your day?" I ask him.

"Boring and without Ryan even worse." He answers. I don't know why my son is able to make Ryan feel comfortable in his presence.

"Can I go to him? I need to talk to him."

"No, he's not there." I answer.

"What? I thought he was grounded."

"Yes and he still is. It's just…for him…us…it's not as easy now, as we thought it would be." I tell him. I know my son and thus I don't even try to make up some story only to protect him. He would find out the truth anyway.

"What do you mean?"

"We underestimated the effects his past might have for his future life. We thought it was a good thing to bring him here, being one family. But it's not as easy for him as we thought and his past is the problem why he can't accept us as family. He still didn't leave his past behind." I try to explain him. If Ryan would like it? Of course not. But Seth is not dumb. He can add one and one.

"You mean that's why he behaves like a brat lately?" As I said, he notices everything quite fast.

"You can say it that way."

"Is…is there anything I can do to help to make it easier for him to accept us or for you to handle this situation?" Yes, my son is spoilt and a little self-centred. But when the chips are down he always shows us he has the heart in the right place.

"Honestly, I have no idea what we can do. Perhaps you can be a good example for him and try to show him that being a family isn't as difficult as he thinks – that he doesn't have to be afraid of it."

"That should be possible. Okay I go and do my homework. If I you want me to search for him – once again – just tell me. I'm right in my room." He says and then disappears upstairs. He's mature too. He also is not like a normal teenager, but his maturity is way different from Ryan's one. My son's maturity makes me feel comfortable. It doesn't frighten me – like Ryan's. Thoughts run through me head and I decide it's better not to call my husband. His mood is already strained regarding the boy.

"What does it mean he went off?" He asks me. He's pissed off and no, I don't want to watch my inner language.

"After he told me all these things he…just ran. I wasn't able to stop him and…after he had opened up to me I thought he might need some space to regain his composure back." I explain him.

"Damn it Kirsten, we can't always let him run away. Thus he never will learn to respect us." He yells at me. That's enough. I won't allow him anymore to scream his rage about other things into my face.

"Don't yell at me. We're all stressed out by this situation, but it doesn't give you the right to blame me for everything which went wrong. We all have to accept that getting Ryan settled in our family isn't as easy as we thought it would be." I say.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I … I don't know what has gotten into me. I'm sure he'll come back. Last night he also came back on his own. Maybe he really needs some space after telling you what he really feels." My husband admits. We're both looking for anything that makes us calm – taking the fear something might have happened to him or he might never come back again.

"Hey folks, uh…I don't wanna scare you or anything, but…it looks as if he doesn't plan to come back again." Our son says, interrupting the strained silence. My head snaps into his direction.

"What did you say?" I ask him.

"That…it seems that he doesn't plan to come back…some of his cloths are missing." My son repeats.

"No, that's not possible. Maybe the missing cloths are in the laundry." I say. I don't want this to be true, because if it was, it will be the prove of that we failed.

"Uhm…I.…don't think so. Rosa did laundry yesterday and…" I don't listen to him anymore and storm into the room to see it with my own eyes. Why haven't I noticed that he had planed this? Why didn't I notice that…this was his last apology before leaving?

"My God." It slips out of my mouth. There are two trousers missing, two t-shirts and some of his wifebeater. He had left all cloths I bought for him. Why haven't I noticed?

"Why would he leave?" My husband asks.

"Because it's too much for him. His father's death, us making him open up to us and touching sore points, and added to that trying to make him part of our family. He can't handle this." I answer. I can imagine how he must feel, after he had been honest to me. It's only unimaginable for us.

"Dad, you need to find him." Our son starts begging.

"You're right. I go and drive through Newport. He's on his own. He can't be come too far." My husband forgets that we're talking about an actually quite smart boy and I doubt he has no plan how to leave this place. My God! How bad have I failed – we? We couldn't even make him feel comfortable enough to stay at our house. He hadn't accepted this place as his home.

"And I call round, maybe he's at someone's." I suggest.

"Mum, forget it. Marissa and Summer are both in France. Despite me he hasn't more friends than that." My son reminds me. But I need to do something. I can't sit and wait.

"And shell I do then?" I ask.

"Call the cops?" My son suggests and I ask myself why I didn't come to the idea.

"Please don't. Ryan's still on probation. If we call the cops and they find out he run he's back in juvies." My husband says. Fact: my hands are tied. There's nothing I can do. Worse of all: it feels as if this is only my fault. I have been home. I have talked to him. I have seen him running and I decided not to follow him and now? We probably will never see him again. We lost him, due to my inability to stand up against his rebellion.

"Sandy, we need to find him." It's the only thing I can say.

"And we will." He says and then takes the car keys and leaves.

My son and I go into the kitchen. I need a tea to calm down again.

"Do you want something for dinner?" I ask my son. It's already after seven. We eat at seven usually. I can't break my son's habits due to this incident.

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry." He says.

"Me neither." I admit.

"What happens, when Dad doesn't find him?" My son asks and his sad face tells me, I rather shouldn't answer him. But I can't treat him like a five year old anymore.

"Well then, we have to accept that he's gone and that we weren't able to help him." I answer.

"I know, this sounds stupid, but I don't wanna lose him…he's…he's like a brother for me."

"That's not stupid honey." I tell him and take him into my arms. I not only comfort him. It's comforting to me, when I realize that at least my own son allows me to take him into my arms.

"Why can't he accept us as his family?" He starts asking me.

"It's in his past. He never has had a real family and he never has learned…to trust someone enough, as he could accept us as his family."

"Was it that bad? I mean…he doesn't make the impression of being…broke or something." Not on the surface but deep down he is, I think.

"No that's true and this causes the whole problem we're faced with. We should have acted from the beginning. But we thought he would settle on his own."

"Uh…you don't start to blame yourself for this chaos, do you? Because it really sounds like that and I don't think that you should do so. You and Dad did really great. You did everything to make it easier for him. I don't think it's your fault and I don't think Ryan thinks so. You and Dad really mean something to him. He…just doesn't know how to handle all these new feelings. As you've said he never has had those before and now we expect him to handle all this just like that? The problem is that he never learned how to cope with such feelings and not that you've failed." I'm surprised how mature my son can seem, when he starts to talk like that.

"Don't look at me like that. I know I'm the talker and Ryan's the listener, but I also can listen to his barley spoken words."

"You're very close friends, are you?"

"We're supposed to be brothers. I…when Dad comes back with him in tow I won't even talk one word to him again. He needs to notice how fucked up his behaviour is, no matter how bad his past had been."

"Maybe you're right. Maybe we need to show him that he can't punish us for what the others have messed up." I say and put an arm around him.

The rest of the evening my son and I remain waiting and talking, making plans how to convince Ryan from our idea of family. We get disturbed by the phone ringing. I pick up.