OC Fic : Twelve Things That Never Happened to Ryan Atwood
You know the drill. Spamming, and all...
Title : Twelve Things That Never Happened to Ryan Atwood
Author : Helen C.
Rating : PG-13
Summary : Twelve things that never happened to Ryan. D'uh.
Disclaimer : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN. Many thanks to joey51 for beta'ing this!
Part two
Ryan spends most of the days leading to the New Year staring at the ceiling in the pool house. Seth tries on numerous occasions to get him out of what he calls "his self-imposed exile in brooding land," but stops when Ryan gets angry enough to both yell at him and throw a shoe in his direction.
After that, Seth leaves him alone. Summer and Marissa haven't come yet, and neither has Lindsay, so Ryan assumes that either Seth told them to steer clear, or they're planning an intervention.
He wishes he could care.
He wishes he felt more able to help Lindsay deal with her own family crisis, but damn it, the fact that his father resurfaced is making him unable to focus on anything else.
Eventually, Sandy comes in to sit on the bed where Ryan is sprawled. "I'd ask if you're okay, but that'd be a stupid question, wouldn't it?"
For once, Ryan doesn't try to pretend. "Yeah."
"I was going to give you more time, but you're worrying Seth, and when Seth's worried, so am I."
Ryan wishes he could make Sandy stop talking, but he doesn't see himself throwing anything at him. Seth is annoying enough to deserve it, but not Sandy.
"If it bothers you that much…" Sandy starts.
"I didn't really remember him until I saw him again. I hadn't seen him in almost ten years." He wasn't a part of my life anymore, and I don't know, maybe that was for the best. Dealing with Trey and Dawn was enough.
Would he have made things better or worse?
His declaration is met by silence. Knowing Sandy will listen (that's one of the many great things about Sandy-he always listens), Ryan adds, "I don't remember much about life in Fresno, either. I know that things got… bad, sometimes. Trey and Dawn told me. And I think I remember some stuff." Stuff he'd rather not dwell on.
"He hit you?" Sandy's tone is perfectly even. How does he do that? Ryan feels like he has spent the last few days holding back a scream that desperately wants to escape.
"Yeah. I guess. Not often." Not as often as some of the other men Dawn slept with later on. Not as hard either.
Sandy doesn't tell him that frequency doesn't matter and that neither does the fact that life was difficult. Hell, it's not like Ryan doesn't know. It's just that it's his father they're talking about, not some of the assholes Dawn brought home.
His father may have turned violent sometimes, but not all the time.
He stayed with Dawn, stayed with his kids, until he was arrested.
That's got to mean something.
Ryan sits up, facing Sandy. "Sometimes, last summer, I wondered if I'd turn out like him. With the baby and everything… I think he was young when they got Trey. Not sixteen, but, well… I don't think he and Dawn had any family to help them."
He's not sure about it, but he can't remember any grandparents, any aunts or uncles. Only his parents, and Trey.
"You wouldn't have become like him," Sandy says, his convinced tone both heart-warming and frightening. What did Ryan ever do to deserve such faith? "You don't strike me as the kind of man capable of hitting a kid, and you and Theresa wouldn't have been alone. We may have allowed you to spend the summer in Chino, but if you think we'd have let you drop out of school to support a family at sixteen, think again." Ryan looks up in surprise. "Sooner or later, we would have dragged your ass back home, kid." He smiles, a little sadly. "We just hoped it wouldn't come to that."
Ryan smiles wryly. "So, you were just waiting for me to come to my senses on my own?"
"Got it in one."
There's a comfortable pause, then Sandy says, "So, you have about, what, twelve hundred questions to ask him?"
"Pretty much." Ryan slowly unclenches his fists-when did he start squeezing them? "Is it okay? I mean…"
"I have no intention to keep you from getting to know your father better," Sandy says easily. If he's hurt at all that Ryan wants to speak with a guy who spent the last decade in jail, when he spent the last year being more of a father to Ryan than William ever was, he doesn't say it. "But I have conditions. Nonnegotiable ones."
"Such as?" Ryan says cautiously, knowing he's dealing with the fiercer side of Sandy-the one that will do everything to keep his family safe.
"Either Kirsten or I will be present. If it gets too much for you, I expect you to say it-and don't try to pretend this is just another walk in the park for you."
Ryan nods. He can live with that. "What else?"
Sandy smiles. "Never forget that we're here for you."
***
The second discussion between Ryan and his father is no less awkward than the first one.
They go through several variations of, "How are you?" "Fine, how about you?" and talk about the weather, Ryan's upcoming chemistry test and his father's upcoming visit to the probation officer.
"Think it'll go fine?" Ryan asks.
His father shrugs. "It's never easy. My lawyer seems to think I won't have any trouble, though. After all, I've been keeping my nose clean…"
Ryan doesn't dare asking more personal questions-it's way too soon to start talking about the past, way too soon to start dredging up old memories. Ryan isn't sure he wants to hear his father's answers, and he's pretty certain his father isn't ready to face the questions.
So, instead, Ryan shares some stories about the Newpsies-how Julie Cooper hates his guts, even though he's not dating her daughter anymore, how Taryn keeps making passes at him (his father turns red and chokes on his drink at that), how Seth invented an "uber-holiday" and how Kirsten incinerates everything she tries to cook.
In return, his father tells him how one of the guards once caught him with a cigarette and asked him to take a whiff of it, because he had officially stopped smoking but still craved it, and how he remembers that Trey once stole Ryan's favorite blanket, and made Ryan cry so hard that he eventually relented, and offered one of his toys in penance.
They keep small-chatting for a while, dancing around the painful subjects without ever broaching them.
****
They take to meeting every other week, during the weekend-Ryan feels too unsettled after their talks to be able to go to school the next day.
The Cohens are keeping a close eye on him, but for the most part, Ryan feels fine. He could actually get to like his father, if he wasn't starting to remember more clearly some of the things that happened in Fresno.
His father seems to sense that something is still bothering Ryan, but he doesn't broach the subject. It's only near the end of their seventh visit that Ryan finds the courage to say, "You hit me."
His father sags back in his seat. Maybe it's relief on his face-relief that the cat's finally out of the bag, relief that the big cloud hanging over them now has a name and face. Maybe it's shame, if the way he closes his eyes is any indication.
When he looks at Ryan, there's sadness in his eyes. "Yes."
Ryan takes in a sharp breath. He expected denial, justifications, not the remorse-ridden, "Yes," his father gives him.
They stare at each other in silence.
"Why?" Ryan asks. His tone is even, neutral. Cold.
His father stares at nothing for several long minutes before shaking his head helplessly. "I wish I had a good explanation." He laughs shakily. "Fuck, I wish I could say I'm a better man now, but if you put me back in the same situation, I'd probably do it again." He looks over at Ryan pleadingly. "I was lost. I was angry all the time. I took it out on my family. I took it out on you, and I don't have any excuses for it. I just did it."
Ryan holds his gaze for a while, then looks down at his quickly-cooling cup of coffee.
"All I can say is that I'm sorry, and that I thank the Cohens every day for taking care of you now, for being better people than I was."
"That's it?" Ryan asks. "Just… that's all you have to say?"
"If you're looking for explanations, son, I'm afraid I don't have them. I love you, and your brother, and even Dawn. I always did, even back then. Sometimes, I lost control."
Ryan knows what loss of control feels like.
He has always been scared of getting lost in his anger, always been scared of becoming a violent man-the kind of man who hits people who can't defend themselves.
It's a daily struggle to keep his anger in check, and knowing where most of that anger comes from (Dawn, the beatings, the drugs, his father, even Trey, and their fucked up life that seemed to suck everything that was nice out of him) doesn't help him control it.
"I'll understand if you don't want to see me again," his father says.
Ryan looks him in the eyes. "I'm not sure I can forgive you," he says. His father hangs his head. "You weren't even the worst one, and I'm mad at you because if you hadn't gone, at least, we'd have been spared some of that." His father winces as Ryan takes a deep breath. "I'm not sure I can trust you. But I don't want you to disappear from my life either."
"Why?" his father asks.
Because the Cohens gave me another chance, and it saved my life.
Because everyone deserves a second chance.
Because if you're on your own, you'll end up in jail again. I know it and you know it. Maybe, just maybe, if you have a family, you'll keep clean, you'll actually make a better life for yourself.
Because I don't want to read one day that you've been killed in jail or somewhere else, because no one gave a damn.
"You're my father."
Ryan gets to his feet and leaves before his father can reply.
Sandy is waiting for him in the parking lot, reading a newspaper behind the wheel. He looks up when Ryan climbs into the car.
"Everything all right?"
Ryan nods shakily. "I'm sorry you have to wait every time I meet him."
"I told you, kid, it's part of the job description."
Sandy starts the car.
"Thanks," Ryan whispers, loud enough for Sandy to hear.
Epilogue
Title : Twelve Things That Never Happened to Ryan Atwood
Author : Helen C.
Rating : PG-13
Summary : Twelve things that never happened to Ryan. D'uh.
Disclaimer : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN. Many thanks to joey51 for beta'ing this!
Part two
Ryan spends most of the days leading to the New Year staring at the ceiling in the pool house. Seth tries on numerous occasions to get him out of what he calls "his self-imposed exile in brooding land," but stops when Ryan gets angry enough to both yell at him and throw a shoe in his direction.
After that, Seth leaves him alone. Summer and Marissa haven't come yet, and neither has Lindsay, so Ryan assumes that either Seth told them to steer clear, or they're planning an intervention.
He wishes he could care.
He wishes he felt more able to help Lindsay deal with her own family crisis, but damn it, the fact that his father resurfaced is making him unable to focus on anything else.
Eventually, Sandy comes in to sit on the bed where Ryan is sprawled. "I'd ask if you're okay, but that'd be a stupid question, wouldn't it?"
For once, Ryan doesn't try to pretend. "Yeah."
"I was going to give you more time, but you're worrying Seth, and when Seth's worried, so am I."
Ryan wishes he could make Sandy stop talking, but he doesn't see himself throwing anything at him. Seth is annoying enough to deserve it, but not Sandy.
"If it bothers you that much…" Sandy starts.
"I didn't really remember him until I saw him again. I hadn't seen him in almost ten years." He wasn't a part of my life anymore, and I don't know, maybe that was for the best. Dealing with Trey and Dawn was enough.
Would he have made things better or worse?
His declaration is met by silence. Knowing Sandy will listen (that's one of the many great things about Sandy-he always listens), Ryan adds, "I don't remember much about life in Fresno, either. I know that things got… bad, sometimes. Trey and Dawn told me. And I think I remember some stuff." Stuff he'd rather not dwell on.
"He hit you?" Sandy's tone is perfectly even. How does he do that? Ryan feels like he has spent the last few days holding back a scream that desperately wants to escape.
"Yeah. I guess. Not often." Not as often as some of the other men Dawn slept with later on. Not as hard either.
Sandy doesn't tell him that frequency doesn't matter and that neither does the fact that life was difficult. Hell, it's not like Ryan doesn't know. It's just that it's his father they're talking about, not some of the assholes Dawn brought home.
His father may have turned violent sometimes, but not all the time.
He stayed with Dawn, stayed with his kids, until he was arrested.
That's got to mean something.
Ryan sits up, facing Sandy. "Sometimes, last summer, I wondered if I'd turn out like him. With the baby and everything… I think he was young when they got Trey. Not sixteen, but, well… I don't think he and Dawn had any family to help them."
He's not sure about it, but he can't remember any grandparents, any aunts or uncles. Only his parents, and Trey.
"You wouldn't have become like him," Sandy says, his convinced tone both heart-warming and frightening. What did Ryan ever do to deserve such faith? "You don't strike me as the kind of man capable of hitting a kid, and you and Theresa wouldn't have been alone. We may have allowed you to spend the summer in Chino, but if you think we'd have let you drop out of school to support a family at sixteen, think again." Ryan looks up in surprise. "Sooner or later, we would have dragged your ass back home, kid." He smiles, a little sadly. "We just hoped it wouldn't come to that."
Ryan smiles wryly. "So, you were just waiting for me to come to my senses on my own?"
"Got it in one."
There's a comfortable pause, then Sandy says, "So, you have about, what, twelve hundred questions to ask him?"
"Pretty much." Ryan slowly unclenches his fists-when did he start squeezing them? "Is it okay? I mean…"
"I have no intention to keep you from getting to know your father better," Sandy says easily. If he's hurt at all that Ryan wants to speak with a guy who spent the last decade in jail, when he spent the last year being more of a father to Ryan than William ever was, he doesn't say it. "But I have conditions. Nonnegotiable ones."
"Such as?" Ryan says cautiously, knowing he's dealing with the fiercer side of Sandy-the one that will do everything to keep his family safe.
"Either Kirsten or I will be present. If it gets too much for you, I expect you to say it-and don't try to pretend this is just another walk in the park for you."
Ryan nods. He can live with that. "What else?"
Sandy smiles. "Never forget that we're here for you."
***
The second discussion between Ryan and his father is no less awkward than the first one.
They go through several variations of, "How are you?" "Fine, how about you?" and talk about the weather, Ryan's upcoming chemistry test and his father's upcoming visit to the probation officer.
"Think it'll go fine?" Ryan asks.
His father shrugs. "It's never easy. My lawyer seems to think I won't have any trouble, though. After all, I've been keeping my nose clean…"
Ryan doesn't dare asking more personal questions-it's way too soon to start talking about the past, way too soon to start dredging up old memories. Ryan isn't sure he wants to hear his father's answers, and he's pretty certain his father isn't ready to face the questions.
So, instead, Ryan shares some stories about the Newpsies-how Julie Cooper hates his guts, even though he's not dating her daughter anymore, how Taryn keeps making passes at him (his father turns red and chokes on his drink at that), how Seth invented an "uber-holiday" and how Kirsten incinerates everything she tries to cook.
In return, his father tells him how one of the guards once caught him with a cigarette and asked him to take a whiff of it, because he had officially stopped smoking but still craved it, and how he remembers that Trey once stole Ryan's favorite blanket, and made Ryan cry so hard that he eventually relented, and offered one of his toys in penance.
They keep small-chatting for a while, dancing around the painful subjects without ever broaching them.
****
They take to meeting every other week, during the weekend-Ryan feels too unsettled after their talks to be able to go to school the next day.
The Cohens are keeping a close eye on him, but for the most part, Ryan feels fine. He could actually get to like his father, if he wasn't starting to remember more clearly some of the things that happened in Fresno.
His father seems to sense that something is still bothering Ryan, but he doesn't broach the subject. It's only near the end of their seventh visit that Ryan finds the courage to say, "You hit me."
His father sags back in his seat. Maybe it's relief on his face-relief that the cat's finally out of the bag, relief that the big cloud hanging over them now has a name and face. Maybe it's shame, if the way he closes his eyes is any indication.
When he looks at Ryan, there's sadness in his eyes. "Yes."
Ryan takes in a sharp breath. He expected denial, justifications, not the remorse-ridden, "Yes," his father gives him.
They stare at each other in silence.
"Why?" Ryan asks. His tone is even, neutral. Cold.
His father stares at nothing for several long minutes before shaking his head helplessly. "I wish I had a good explanation." He laughs shakily. "Fuck, I wish I could say I'm a better man now, but if you put me back in the same situation, I'd probably do it again." He looks over at Ryan pleadingly. "I was lost. I was angry all the time. I took it out on my family. I took it out on you, and I don't have any excuses for it. I just did it."
Ryan holds his gaze for a while, then looks down at his quickly-cooling cup of coffee.
"All I can say is that I'm sorry, and that I thank the Cohens every day for taking care of you now, for being better people than I was."
"That's it?" Ryan asks. "Just… that's all you have to say?"
"If you're looking for explanations, son, I'm afraid I don't have them. I love you, and your brother, and even Dawn. I always did, even back then. Sometimes, I lost control."
Ryan knows what loss of control feels like.
He has always been scared of getting lost in his anger, always been scared of becoming a violent man-the kind of man who hits people who can't defend themselves.
It's a daily struggle to keep his anger in check, and knowing where most of that anger comes from (Dawn, the beatings, the drugs, his father, even Trey, and their fucked up life that seemed to suck everything that was nice out of him) doesn't help him control it.
"I'll understand if you don't want to see me again," his father says.
Ryan looks him in the eyes. "I'm not sure I can forgive you," he says. His father hangs his head. "You weren't even the worst one, and I'm mad at you because if you hadn't gone, at least, we'd have been spared some of that." His father winces as Ryan takes a deep breath. "I'm not sure I can trust you. But I don't want you to disappear from my life either."
"Why?" his father asks.
Because the Cohens gave me another chance, and it saved my life.
Because everyone deserves a second chance.
Because if you're on your own, you'll end up in jail again. I know it and you know it. Maybe, just maybe, if you have a family, you'll keep clean, you'll actually make a better life for yourself.
Because I don't want to read one day that you've been killed in jail or somewhere else, because no one gave a damn.
"You're my father."
Ryan gets to his feet and leaves before his father can reply.
Sandy is waiting for him in the parking lot, reading a newspaper behind the wheel. He looks up when Ryan climbs into the car.
"Everything all right?"
Ryan nods shakily. "I'm sorry you have to wait every time I meet him."
"I told you, kid, it's part of the job description."
Sandy starts the car.
"Thanks," Ryan whispers, loud enough for Sandy to hear.
Epilogue