At first running away seemed like a brilliant idea. Ryan's been taking care of himself his entire life he doesn't need Grace or the Cohen's or anyone else looking after him. He certainly doesn't need to go to Wells where there are too many kids, too many rules and not nearly enough space. At least on the street he has space. Somewhere on the streets he knows there is Trey. Trey who promised to come back for Ryan when he turned 19. But Trey turns 19 in four years and Ryan can't wait that long. Ryan is cold, always hungry, always lonely and still too sick to do much but curl up in some spot out of the rain. Kirsten's money is enough to keep him in cheap food for a few more days but he's not sure what to do after that. He really needs Trey, not just that but he wants his brother too, the steadiness Trey always offered. Before the system split them out Trey always made sure Ryan had food, was warm, tried to make him as happy as humanly possible.
It's the twelve day Ryan is on the street when he finally meets someone who knows someone who knows Trey. This leads Ryan to a dark warehouse, abandoned, probably condemned. At first Ryan's nervous. He doesn't know what kind of shit Trey got himself into but judging from the look of the warehouse it's not good.
"You coming kid?" Trey's friend's friend asks taking a deep drag from a fledging cigarette. Ryan gives a tight nod and follows. What does he really have left to lose.
The warehouse has about ten kids in it. Most of them are old but a few young ones latch on to older siblings. There is no electricity but a small candle flickers in the middle of the room where a small group of teenagers play poker. It's then that Ryan sees him. There's more age in the slope of his shoulders, longer hair, the beginning of a beard covers a sharp jaw line. The figure feels his eyes and looks up to meet his gaze.
"Ryan?" Trey says almost reverently tossing his cards in the middle before limping over to his brother. Trey's left side is covered in burns and he can barely put weight on his left leg but before Ryan can ask his brother is pulling him into a hug that is as hard and rough as it is gentle and loving. The fact that Ryan's cold, hungry and sick melt away because he's no longer alone.
"You ok?" Trey rumbles, his voice deeper with emotion and age. Ryan grips his brother tightly, nodding against Trey's boney collar bone and, for the first time in a long time, lets a sob bubble up.
It's been a month since Ryan went missing. Sandy insists it's not Kirsten's fault but Seth barely looks at her anymore and she knows, deep down, that if the men in the house had had their way they'd be filing adoption papers instead of missing person's reports. Kirsten turns down another street, closed warehouses, teenagers smoking in stairwells, prostitutes stumbling around on street corners. Kirsten's gotten to know Chino a lot better this past month. There are a few children's shelters some underground others publicly funded. Kirsten has checked almost all of them. It turns out that $200 bucks is enough to break any vow of silence around hear.
Kirsten pulls up at the warehouse. It may be the middle of the day but Sandy would still kill her if he knew what she was doing. She now routinely supplies all the other 'youth shelters' with blankets, food and money. She's surprised at the goodness of some of the children, the potential that is dying slowing. For the first time she really understands Sandy's anger, his frustration. Sighing she grabs food and clothes out the trunk in the back. Ryan won't be here, he never is, but she won't leave these kids with nothing.
"Hello" Kirsten says tentatively knocking on the doorframe. "I'm not a cop. I'm not with Children's Services." The room is empty but she can smell cigarette smoke and notices wet clothing hanging from rafters to dry.
"Please I just - " Kirsten swallows this isn't going to do anything. "Ok there's some stuff here and some phone numbers." Kirsten says hearing nothing but her voice echo before she turns around and prepares to leave.
"Do you have medicine?" The voice catches Kirsten off guard and she almost jumps out of her skin. A painful looking burn covers more than half of the teenager's face and he's thin, too thin. Surprising though his eyes are clear, marred only with concern not drugs.
"Some." Kirsten answers moving slowly towards the box. The tall teen takes a step back in response. Kirsten riffles through to find some Tylenol, band-aids and low-dose meds she wasn't crazy about giving children medicine without an adult to monitor the doses but lots of them were in pain and she couldn't justify leaving them with nothing.
"Those look painful." Kirsten says gently as the boy reaches to touch his scarred face but thinks better of it.
"I'm not looking for me. I'm looking for my brother. He's sick." This is the most honest conversation Kirsten's had with one of the street kids and she can't decide if that's just who this kid is or if the teenager is so desperate that his usual defences are down. Either answer gives her an opening.
"Can I look at him? Maybe I can help." The teenager stares at her, not responding. "I'm Kirsten. It's ok I'm not going to hurt you." She promises. The boy stiffens and rolls her eyes and Kirsten realizes that she's just talked down to him.
"Whatever." The boy says his eyes darting to the back. "He's back here." Kirsten follows Trey through a large wooden door to a smaller room that must have, at one time, been an office. All that's in it now are blankets, a thin mattress and...Kirsten feels her heart plummet to her stomach.
"Ryan." She breathes in disbelief. He's sick all right, pale and sweating, the room smells of urine and vomit and the blankets do nothing to stop his shivering.
"You know Ryan?" Trey's voice is nearly leathel. Adults have led them to this situation Kirsten can't blame him for being defensive.
"My husband was a lawyer. He - Ryan stayed with us for a while. We've been looking..." Kirsten trails off as she kneels down beside the violently ill child. The older brother, Trey he reluctantly introduces introduces himself as, has done the best job. A wet t-shirt is strewn over Ryan's forehead and all the blankets are used as either a make-shift bed or are covering Ryan.
"He needs a hospital." Kirsten says finally trying to ignore her own guilt for the moment as she lays a hand over Ryan's rapidly beating heart.
"We can't." Trey says simply kneeling beside his brother. Kirsten feels an irrational spurt of anger at Trey. He's fifteen he should have known that this was more serious than blankets and a cold compress.
"He needs a doctor." Kirsten insists firmly gently shaking Ryan's shoulder. Glassy eyes open up to meet hers and hazy comprehension draws.
"Mrs. Cohen?" Ryan slurs trying to blink past the confusion.
"Hey sweetie we're gonna get you out of here ok? Can you stand up for me?" Ryan licks his lips before trying to stand on his rubbery legs, Kirsten taking the majority of his weight.
"Trey?" Ryan croaks out his haziness turning to panic. "Trey?" Ryan turns his head around and before Kirsten can reassure him Trey is on Ryan's other side taking the majority of the smaller boy's weight and mumbling something into Ryan's ear.
Ryan relaxes slightly and lets Trey lead him out of the drafty warehouse to the car. Trey's own limp makes the process slow and painful looking but Kirsten doesn't want frighten Ryan. Soon the smaller boy is wrapped in a blanket from Kirsten's trunk and pulled up against, half-asleep, against his big brother.
Ryan is nearly as pale as white cold compress on his forehead. The only sound in the room is a soft, steady beep of a heart monitor. An oxygen mask takes up the lower half of Ryan's face and an IV drips steadily into an exposed vein. In the chair beside the bed Trey is curled into an uncomfortably small hospital chair, exhaustion clear on his features.
It had been the guilt that had originally spurred Kirsten into finding Ryan. She hadn't wanted the little boy in her house. She had been too cold, too clinical and her fear and prejudices had caused nothing but pain not only for Ryan but for her family. All she can feel now is the determination to make it right.
"Kirsten?" The sound of her name jerks her out of her daze and she turns around to see Sandy. Sandy doesn't see her though, his eyes are only for the small, pale lump in the bed.
"Ryan." Sandy whispers walking over to the bed hesitating only a moment before covering Ryan's hand with his own.
"How's he doing?" They had been at the hospital almost an hour before Kirsten had thought through the situation and remembered to call Sandy. He had sped out of his office as fast as he could.
"They're running tests right now to be sure but the doctor thinks it's pneumonia." Kirsten whispers from her chair. The whisper causes the teenager on the chair across from her to jerk awake, panic on his face before immediately dialling it back to callous neutrality.
"You must be Trey." Trey tightens his jaw before giving a small nod. He keeps his head slightly turned to the side as if he is subconsciously trying to hide the waxy burned skin that covers his left side.
"Ryan's told me a lot about you." Sandy continues a reassuring smile on his face. "It's nice to finally meet you." Sandy sticks out his hand a waits until Trey hesitantly reaches out his own burned one and carefully shakes Sandy's outstretched hand.
"Ryan says you helped him out some...thanks." Trey's voice is barely a whisper and he ducks his eyes from Sandy's with a shy smile. All Kirsten had been able to get out of Trey in the past two hours was a few grumbled responses and a glare. She's never had a way with kids the way her husband has.
Sandy nods at Trey before sitting beside Ryan settling a hand in the boy's hair and looking at him for a long moment.
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