A/N.: Thanks to my beta who still keeps up with her good work

– Truth makes us doubt what we used to believe

C.

"You should give the boy some space to breathe." I advice my daughter when she exits Ryan's room.

"What?"

"The boy went through a whole lot, so don't rush with anything." I let her know. I can see that having the boy back and being able to fix everything that got damaged between the two of them is all she wants right now, but I also need to warn her. Wounds like those don't heal overnight. They need time and patience. Every too rushed decision, not well thought of sentence can rip them open again and I want to protect her from disappointment, because I doubt the boy will give in to her charm soon.

"What made you change your opinion about him and when did it happen?" She asks me with astonishment about the words I just said to her.

"Well, let me call it some kind of scary encounter." I answer her. I'm afraid the truth might force us apart again and I don't want to lose my daughter. I'm also aware that she'll demand answers at some point of time and not giving them to her might lead to the same result. I have to wait for the right time to reveal the true relationship between Ryan and me to her.

"Okay Dad, I know that you're hiding something from me since I mentioned Ryan in the kitchen and now I want to know what it is." She determines. She wants to fix the puzzle of the events happening in her absence.

"Okay…as you wish, but you have to promise me not to freak out." I reply, the tone in her voice not leaving any space for another option than this. She has forced the right point of time to come – sooner as I wished it was.

"Alright, I promise."

"The evening before the morning I came by and brought you to the rehab centre Ryan came to me and proposed some kind of deal...

I was sitting in my study, brooding over some contracts. I hadn't expected anyone even though I was still in the buildings of the Newport Group. I heard a knock at my door. I had no clue of who it could be.

"Come in." I answered looking up from my papers, waiting to see the face that was disturbing me and my job. I was flabbergasted when the boy slowly but self-confidently entered my office. His face was swollen and there were several cuts in his face. I was asking myself whom he had beaten up this time. At least I was witness to see that he probably had lost the fight. No, he didn't look good. I started to worry, because I had no explanation to why the boy in such a state appeared on my threshold.

"What do you want?" I've been suspicious and…a little intimidated. He didn't look as he used to: all defensive and head ducked, but offensive. He was standing there not even taking into account that I tried to make him aware that I didn't want to talk to him.

"Talk." He said determining, not rude, but determining.

"I don't talk to you." I wanted to get rid of him. Only thinking about him made me furious at that point of time.

"Maybe this time you do." He answered. He'd been way too self-confident for my taste. I would call it smug, but it wasn't. He just acted like an all mature man, who knew what he was doing. Regarding his true age this was which scared me.

"Why would I?"

"Because you hate me, and want me to leave this place, and I can offer you this." He said straight into my face. There was no concern, no regret audible. He was saying this sentence straight forwards as if it meant nothing to him. He was offering me his stable luxurious life as if it wasn't of any value to him. In an instant I found my theory about this boy proven.

"And what do you want in return? Or better how much?" I was picking up my check-book. My first thought was that I knew from the very beginning that he was only after our money. This even was the proof that…my blind eyed and way too social son in law was nothing but a scallywag, not good enough for my daughter.

"I don't want or need you money." He said. I can't tell what went through me when he had said this. I've been convinced that it had been about money. My head must have gone black, because I can't recall what I've been thinking.

"Alright, then tell me."

"Your daughter needs help and you know that. She's sick – an alcoholic and if she doesn't receive help soon, she'll lose everything and most important: you'll lose her and Seth will too. Unfortunately Sandy isn't in any condition to help her, I'm at my wits' end and so I came to you." I've never heard him speaking so many sentences in a row. I'd been taken a back a little by his speech. There was powerfulness in his voice and the words he used that it was impossible not to listen to what he had to say. He could make a good politician if he overcame his fear to talk more often like that.

"And how do you think this is going to happen?" I asked him.

"As soon as I'll see you tomorrow morning coming to the Cohen's house, picking up your daughter and taking her to a rehab centre, I'll pack my bags and be gone when you come back." He really had a plan. He really had thought through this. This hadn't been a teenager I'd been talking to, but a businessman: someone who knows how to make deals. It was a well planned deal, something I never hold him capable of.

"And how will you be sure that I really bring her to a rehab centre and not just drive around the block with her?"I wanted to show him the catch in his deal that he couldn't get to me. I was afraid of losing my power to a teenager from somewhere of the wrong part of the state.

"I have to trust you."

"You trust me? C'mon, don't tell me you can trust me."

"I know what you daughter and your grandson mean to you, although you don't bother showing them a lot."And then he'd been gone. He didn't wait for my reply. He just went off and left me alone with his proposal. Of course I've realised that you've been not yourself lately and the scent of alcohol in the morning couldn't be ignored. He did hit a nerve. I've been worrying about you and his proposal made it worse: a poor street-boy like Ryan was willing to leave the comfortable nest you offered him to get you the help you needed. This was more than just a simple warning sign.

I decided that it was worth a try and I came by at your house and you know the rest. When I came back that day the boy was gone. I hadn't trusted him. I thought of it as nothing but a scam, but he stood to his word. He gave up maybe the best that had ever happened to him to safe my daughter. He earned my respect due to this action and it grew with every passing day he remained disappeared. It was the moment I realised that he wasn't after the money and that he would really do everything for you and Seth. If I had known how much pain his departure would cause I would have tried to bring him back, but when I realised how Seth suffered under his absence, and how sad you were it was already too late. I found him and knew where he was, but I also noticed that it was too late to bring him back then. He had drawn a gap between his former life here and his new start.

K.

After my father finished his story I'm not sure what I'm feeling. Anger because he knew where Ryan had been all the time and thus possessed the opportunity to bring him back again. Sadness, because I know what Ryan gave up for me and my family. Desperation, because I have no idea how I can make up for this. Fury, because my husband wasn't able to prevent this. Rage, because I was the one to be blamed for the futile situation he had been in, and then there is the little part of me that has to smile a little.

"He stayed only because Seth begged him to. He must have realised that when you got involved he could leave without having a bad conscience." A wave of gratefulness hits me. Although my father didn't like the boy he had helped him out in his situation. He had been there for him. He didn't know that Ryan actually utilised him for his purpose.

"What do you mean?" He doesn't seem to have gotten the point of the whole deal.

"He had wanted to leave, Dad. He couldn't because he was incapable of leaving Seth alone in this situation. He let you solve the problem so that he could take off. It wasn't a deal, because Ryan was receiving twice. He got me help and the opportunity to leave." I try to explain him.

C.

"You mean he…fooled me?" Damn, this kid is smarter than I thought he was. Why haven't I realised that he didn't bother leaving? I doubt it would have made any difference. I still had wanted to get rid of him, no matter whether involuntarily or voluntarily.

"I think so."

"And how are things going from here?"

K.

"I've no idea." That's all I can say. I don't know. It sounds lame, but it's the truth. Although Ryan had eventually talked to me, I'm still not sure whether I have reached something – what I wanted to reach.

We go home. I guess Ryan won't be able to take anymore of me and my presence. In some way I already pushed him far. He needs a break and I do too. It's awful how hard it can be to remain patient. Added to that I have to report to my son and I have to find an explanation to why I've been away from home for so long. One thing is for sure, I won't bring Ryan home with me, which means I have to find a solution for his stay: a stay that's not too far away from here as I need to be able to see him every time I need to, or he needs me to.

I come home late that day. When I enter the house I can already hear my husband talking to my son.

"Hey!" I call out to make them aware of my presence. My husband peaks out of the kitchen.

"Hey honey, how was the trip?" He asks me. It's awful that I have to lie to my husband of whom I thought I love him unconditionally. Well, lying to him…shows me that my love towards him has a limit.

"Exhaustive." I answer him and kiss him. I have to hide my bad conscience. Hell, he's a lawyer. He can smell lies miles against the wind.

"I can imagine. A business trip with Caleb Nichole and I would be exhausted too." He answers with a grin.

"Stop talking like that. He's my father and I love spending time with him. He has changed and you witnessed it, so maybe it's your turn to start changing too." I snap at him. I've always hated it when he'd been talking about my Dad like that, but then there had been a reason –somehow. Now my father is a completly different person and he was helping me in this situation, although Ryan wasn't business or a part of our family – not anymore. I can't stand someone talking about a man who owned such a generosity of spirit.

"Sorry honey, I didn't want to upset you, but I still have trouble wrapping my head around Caleb's new image." My husband answers.

"No…no it's okay. I shouldn't have snapped at you." I reply. Now I have a bad conscience about my reaction. I should be able to maintain my composure.

The rest of the evening passes uneventfully. Nevertheless I carry a question around my heart that I need to address. I sit in bed and wait for my husband to join me. I watch him changing into his pyjamas. He climbs into bed and kisses me.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks me. He can read me like an open book. It doesn't need a lot for him to see that I'm caught in deep thoughts or even doubts. I look into his eyes and I'm scared of approaching the topic we've been avoiding for so long. We've never been talking about and if I've learned one thing in my marriage it is that Sandy Cohen only avoids topics that are frightening him; and there's not a lot that's frightening Sandy Cohen. I'm afraid of asking him, because I'm afraid of his reaction.

"Nothing." I say, because I'm not ready. The question is finished pronounced in my head, but I can't ask it.

"Doesn't look like nothing." He replies. I'm caught. Now I have to spill it out.

"I…I just have to think about Ryan lately. I'm still wondering what made him leave abruptly." I say, not trying to mention his role in this.

"What makes you think about him?" He asks me.

"I don't know,…why not? I mean…I still…feel connected to him." I answer. I feel attacked by his question.

"But he's gone." He answers indifferently and this is the last straw.

"You forced me to treat and love him like he was my own son, but you're not going to make me forget him as if he'd never been here." I tell him.

"Kirsten, what do you want?"

"Answers. What happened between you and him that you're thinking like that? What changed your mind about him?" I ask him.

"I…I can't tell you, I…only know that it is, as it is. Believe me, I wish things would never have happened as they did, but I can't undo it." He answers my in his calm voice.

"But you can fix it." I tell him. No matter how bad things were. My husband used to fix them, no matter how tough the battle was.

"But…not this time. Kirsten…what I've done…I…can't even justify it to myself…it makes me feel disgusted by myself…I can't fix this…not this. I…overstepped a border this time." He says. This sounds bad and urgent. He's never told me that much about what happened.

"Then tell me what happened. I know, what I've done to him was awful and I know that what you've done…can't be worse than what I've done, but I still told you and I want to try to…say sorry to him…one day." I add.

"And when I tell you it can be."

"I put him through his past once again, what can be worse?" I ask him, frowning my eyebrow. Now I'm not very sure anymore, whether I really want to know what has happened, or whether I'm too scared of what I might get to hear. I need to know. I need to, because I have to understand Ryan's fears to be able to help, to pull him through what he has – he is going through.

"I did too." My husband whispers, he's not looking at me. He's focusing the blanket. I put a hand in reassurance on his back. I've never seen him that devastated.

"Sandy, what's wrong?" He slowly turns his head towards my direction and I can see tears glistering in his eyes,

"Oh…God Sandy, now start talking to me. Immediately!" I demand of him.

"I…I can't." To see how badly he's suffering under himself is awful, and not being able to offer him any relief even worse.

"Sandy, start talking to me. We're both aware that…these times had been exceptional circumstances and…we didn't mean to put Ryan through his past again, did we?" I try to sooth him. I don't know who's sitting next to me, but it's not my husband. It's not the man I have been married with for so long.

"I…I…slapped his face several times…I can't even tell how often and…I didn't do it only gently, I guess. He never complained about it. He never said something. It was as if he was giving me his tacit permission for doing so…and I didn't get how wrong it was and…then one day…I…went postal." He says with vibrating voice. I'm afraid. Slapping his face with his violent background was already a tough thing. Hell, he grew up with an alcoholic mother, what must it have been like for him when I started drinking too? He grew up with an abusive father and his mother's abusive boyfriends, what must it have been like to be slapped again?

"Sandy, what happened?" I urge him to tell me the truth eventually.

"He…it…was obvious…that he was tired…and…he…dropped a glass. It was just a glass and…"

"And?" I'm anxious to listen to what he has to confess. My son already mentioned an accident with a glass.

"I…I came home that evening, totally beat from my job and…the situation at home wasn't brilliant either…it's not like your drinking didn't affect me at all. I just tried to ignore it. I can't count how often …