A/N.: Sorry for this very late update. I hope you still like to read this story. Thanks to my beta ParisAmy

7. Know – I don't want to go with you, but I can't fight a war

K.

I can't believe that my Dad has managed to persuade Ryan from coming with us. I didn't count on that. Well, I didn't even count on him trying that hard to persuade him.

"You still didn't tell me how you managed to persuade him." I say to my Dad. I'm a little afraid of knowing. Indeed my Dad has changed, but when he wants to reach an aim, he's still the same: cold and uncompromising. For business this is a quite good attitude, but family issues are hardly solved like that.

"Are you sure you want to know?" He asks me and I'm quite sure that he didn't proceed with a lot of sensitivity.

"Dad?" Now I need to know. I must be prepared for Ryan's moods, which by the war start to be annoying. He has never been resentful and that he is now makes me angry. He never let anyone make him change his attitudes, but this time he allowed us to change his entire personality.

"Well, I…you noticed that it's hard to persuade a boy like Ryan. He's…too proud and…" My father stammers. At least he has some glimpse of a bad conscience.

"Don't tell me you've threatened him with being declared as incapacitated by the courts." I say. We've been talking about it, but I disapproved with this idea. I should be glad that my father helped me, but with all forces? On the other hand, Ryan isn't the Ryan I once knew. The usual stuff didn't work and …we've been practically forced to try new measures, because he let us no other choice. No, I don't approve with what he'd done, but I'm glad I can take Ryan back with me, although there will be waters to be soothed.

We reach the apartment. I knock on the door.

"Did you tell him when we'll pick him up?" I ask my father, who nods in reassurance.

"I did." He answers, but nothing happens. The door doesn't open. I knock once again.

"Ryan?" I call. Maybe he's in the bathroom and doesn't hear the knocks. There's still nothing. I start to worry…better: I start to panic. My father lays and assuring hand on my arm. I knock once again, but I don't hear anything. Maybe he ran. This could be possible. He never had the best relationship to my Dad, so why should he listen to him now? Maybe something happened. This could be possible too. Although he didn't look as alarming as I had feared he might do, he's still sick – dangerously. I look at my father. He shrugs his shoulders.

"I opened this door yesterday. It shouldn't be a problem doing it again tonight." He says and then with some pressure is able to open the door with a crack. The lights are switched off and it's cold inside of the apartment. I warp my arms around myself when I walk around to find Ryan. I switch on a small lamp on the table. A warm light floods the room and I can make out a form underneath a pile of blankets. Relief streams through my body. He didn't run and nothing happened to him. I walk over to him and place a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey Ryan, time to get up." I don't get a reaction. He's too deep asleep. He must be awfully tired. My Mom had been tired – awfully tired – when she became sick and had to undergo all these treatments. I can't be angry with him for oversleeping.

"Ryan, wake up." I say a little louder, shaking him as gently as I can, so not to hurt him.

"Mmmm" He answers me and I watch how is eyes start to open slowly. They are not as bright as they used to be. It seems as if some kind of obscure veil conceals them.

"Sorry, but we need to hurry a little." I tell him.

"Kirsten?" He looks at me confused.

R.

What's Kirsten doing here? Why's she…? Oh fuck. I should have known that the worst nightmare is always left for reality and not dream-land.

K.

"Whom did you expect?" I ask him, realising too late that this might have been the wrong question.

R.

"Whom else should I expect?" What the hell is she doing in my place? She still hasn't learnt about privacy? It's not like I gave her the keys to the apartment, which means I don't want her appearing in here just out of the nothing.

K.

"Ryan, I was worried. I've been knocking and calling your name several times and when I didn't get any answer I…just wanted to check you were alright." I justify my action. I don't want him to be upset. He might decide differently again and won't follow us home.

R.

"Yeah, sure." I only answer. I'm still too tired as if I wanted to set up a fight. Why did I agree? I should have made my point clearer and stood…well, if I hadn't agreed I wouldn't have any own point. I hate to be trapped in a catch twenty-two. It makes me feel helpless and …I just can't stand this feeling. It's annoying.

K.

"Do you need any help?" I ask him. I have no clue of how bad his condition already is. He won't let me know. I can only guess, but even that's hard. The feeling that he's shielding his illness and his real condition from me creeps over me with determination.

R.

"No, thanks." I might be sick, but I'm not an invalid yet. Anyway, it's not like I'm not used to deal with the serious stuff on my own. Fact: you can have fun with everyone, but when things become serious you're on your own. That's the golden rule of life and I'll never ever again neglect it. I don't need to make my experiences twice. In the fear of Mr. Nichol's crucial plans I slowly crawl out of bed. My joints are aching awfully and a wave of dizziness hits me, while the feeling vanishes from my legs. No, not again and not now. I feel her hand steadying me. I would pull away from her hand, but right now I can't. I feel how my knees start to feel like gum. I better sit back down again.

K.

"This was a little too fast, huh?" I ask him, hiding that I start to get concerned, but I just can't appear on his doorsteps after two years and play the hovering mother. Too many events lie between us for me to play his mother again. He looks awfully pale and I wonder when his last treatment has been. I came by two days ago, he'd been in Uni yesterday…something is wrong about the situation. Something just doesn't fit. An awkwardness assaults me, creeping me out a little bit.

I look around, while I'm waiting for him. He hasn't packed yet. There's no bag in any corner and this room isn't huge enough as if I couldn't spot everything on first sight.

"Did you pack a bag?" I ask him when he comes out of the bathroom. I don't want to hurry him, but we have to catch the plane.

"There's not a lot to pack." He says and grabs a duffle bag that lay under a table, which I thought of as some kind of clothes. He goes to one of the closets and puts some cloths into the bag. That's it. He doesn't possess a lot and all he had we took away from him again. I can't blame him for having left everything behind, as he seems so determined of making a clear cut.

R.

I take a deep breath. I don't want to fly into rage in front of Kirsten. I'm just too tired to fight or to fly into rage. Maybe I should start to declare my defeat. I don't have to declare it completely, just one by one. It definitely would make things easier between all of us, and I wouldn't have to fight my temper. On the other hand I'm not ready for forgiveness yet and declaring my defeat would for sure send out this message.

"Do you need help?" Mr. Nichols asks me in his usual harsh voice.

"No thanks." I answer him. It's not like I want to have any of their help. I want to be left alone. No, not alone. I just don't want them around. I…can't need them now. It'll be too hard to deal with them as well – with Sandy on top of all that. From all of them I never thought it'll be him I'm afraid of seeing again.

"Don't you want to eat anything before we leave? You shouldn't go without anything in your stomach." How nice. Now Kirsten starts patronizing me as if I was still a kid – her kid. This makes it even harder to brace myself.

"Not hungry." I answer. Why is she concerned? This isn't her business. Out of some…reason she wants to help me, but she doesn't have to play concerned mother for me. I grew up without one and I lived long enough without one that I don't need it now.

K.

The whole way to the airport and then onto the plane is silent. I sometimes talk to my Dad about something to forget the tension between me and Ryan. I must have been unnaturally naive when I thought we could get Ryan back just like that. Of course for him it must have been awful and…if I only knew what had happened between him and my husband. But neither of them would talk to me, and not even my son Seth spills the beans, although he's in the know – maybe had witnessed it? I can't even tell that. When Ryan takes his seat in the plane I can see that he's shivering. I ask the stewardess for a throw. After she handed me one, I pass it over to Ryan.

R.

"Don't need it." I answer when Kirsten holds out her hand with a throw. Sure, I'm freezing, but this won't get better if I used this thin thing.

K.

"You're shivering." I only answer, letting him know that his tough-guy-attitude won't lead to anything regarding my concerns. I receive shrugging shoulders as a response. It's a frustrating situation we're caught in. Nobody can give way. I, as the oldest and more experienced one, should do so, but if I did it meant letting Ryan go for ever.

I watch Ryan leaning his head against the window, turning his head away from me. It's obvious to me that my father had done the only thing which was able to force Ryan back with us. Otherwise he'd never agreed to join us. He's too hurt. I watch him closely. I want to see through him, seeing how he really feels. He's still shivering and his skin is pale. You can see the net of blue veins through it – like marble. There's still something of the strong boy left in his appearance – the boy who entered my life in a sudden and left it like that again. I never had a hand in it, neither when he joined our family, nor when he left it again. I feel the urge to take him into my arms, telling him that everything was going to be okay. I have to resist this urge. I can't satisfy my motherly feelings yet. If I ever can? I hope so, but I'm not sure about that. Suddenly he struggles from his slummed position upright and starts to open his jacket.

"Everything alright?" I ask him suspicious. Nothing is right. I sense it, although I can't see it. There are so many things I can only sense. I sense that he's hurt, although he hadn't told me. I sense that it'll be a long and rocky way until he eventually will be able to forgive me, although he never upbraided me. I can sense that what happened between him and my husband must have been awfully and traumatic, but he'd never told me – not yet.

R.

"Yeah." I answer. I don't want her hovering over me. I already have no clue how I'll survive the time together with her. This was a bad idea. I should have resisted. This won't end up in a good way, because she won't get what she wants. I know that because right now I'm in no condition to give her what she wants – not even if I wanted to, but I don't want to anyway, no matter of my condition or anything. I only want to be left alone. I hate it if people are around while I don't feel well and right now I'm not feeling well at all. Did they have heating in a plane? Suddenly I feel awfully hot and sticky. I have trouble breathing. My chest starts to get tighter. I try to take deep breathes, but not to let Kirsten notice. I can't cope with her right now. Being on the way back with her is already more than I can take. It never had been different. I always had been the one who had to exceed my borderline. It's not like anyone cared whether I was capable of it. It was expected. I need to get rid of the heat in my body wherever it's coming from.

K.

I see his cheeks blushing. This is not a good sign. What if…he's getting sick! He's been out in the rain for too long and I'm quite sure that his immune system is everything else than strong.

"Are you having a fever?" I ask him. I get up from my seat. I want…I have to check whether my suspicion is right. I already sense that it is. I want to feel his forehead, but he pulls away from me.

"I'm fine." He snaps at me. I'm taken aback a little. This can't be the person who had joined my family. This must be someone else. I have to shake it off. I can't retreat from him. I would lose the last few chances I have if I did.

"Ryan, I told you to be a little nicer to my daughter. She only wants to check whether you're alright and you should be thankful, because as far as I know there is no one else caring for doing so." I bite my lip. I don't think that what my father said will improve the situation. Thankful. He couldn't have chosen a word that was more out of place. I shoot angry glances at him, hoping he realises that what he had said, was everything else than appropriate. I watch how Ryan struggles out of his seat.

R.

I don't have to listen to this, do I? I mean, I didn't ask them to do this for me. I…I'm close to a rage blackout, only this might be a little unfavourable. They would declare me immediately to some kind of terrorist. The worst: I can't even escape the situation, because I'm trapped in a plane. Great. Really great. That's exactly what I need. I feel how my legs turn into gum again. Shit. This is really not the right moment for that. I lean myself against the seat. I don't want to give them a preview of how shitty I might feel some days. They don't need to witness. I don't want them to. I should try to keep the scope of insight low. I sit down again. I doubt that my legs can carry me any second longer. I'm not sitting for a second and I have a hand fumbling around on my forehead. I let out a growl. I don't know how else to express a direct and clear 'no'. Usually it should be an easy task, but I'm so tired that I don't want to risk beginning an unnecessary fight.

K.

"You're definitely running a fever." I tell him. The heat radiating from his forehead is alarming, but what did I expect? He was out in the cold rain. He only shrugs his shoulders. He doesn't seem to care about his condition way too much. He's neglecting himself, but he's only a child. He can't handle this on his own. Everybody would need someone, and he hadn't had someone for seven months. With all respect towards his brother, but this man doesn't seem to be the most reliable person when you're not up to handling all your business on your own. I feel the urge to hover over him, but after his previous reaction, I don't dare doing so. I leave him alone. I don't want to upset him any more than necessary. He'll need his energy for fighting this battle. He shouldn't have to fight others too; but he has to: Seth, my husband and me, maybe my father too. In a sudden the whole idea seems to be ridiculous. Am I really doing something good to him?

When we exit the plane I can see how Ryan struggles to remain on his feet. He's miserable, but he's declining every help or support we're offering him. I leave him. I don't want to upset him. When we're in the hall of the airport, waiting for I cab I realise that we've lost Ryan. He couldn't keep up with our pace. He looks exhausted and his skin is drained out of all colours. He's staggering. I try to reach him. I watch his knees buckle. My father tries to catch hold of the boy before he falls onto the ground, but he's too late. With a dumb thud Ryan collapses and I can't do anything, couldn't even prevent this from happening.