OC Fic : Twelve Things That Never Happened to Ryan Atwood, 9a
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. Huge thanks to joey51 for beta'ing this. All remaining mistakes are mine, for I tinkered…
an atwood chrismukkah
Part One
Fucking red light, Ryan thinks as he hits the ground, the gunshot still echoing in the small store.
Then the pain hits, and he can't think about anything anymore. Breathing through it is hard enough.
He hears someone yelling next to him, hears a moan, then a pain sharper than before makes him cry out, and his vision whites out.
***
When he can see again, someone is hovering above him-the cashier, Ryan realizes when he spots the nametag. "It's okay," the man keeps saying. "Just keep breathing, kid."
Right, Ryan's sarcastic inner voice (when did it start to sound so disturbingly like Seth?) chimes in. Keep breathing, because really, it wouldn't do to die because of that fucking red light.
If only he hadn't had to stop, he would have been able to catch up with Johnny before that fucking idiot pulled out his gun.
If only he had left the party thirty seconds earlier…
If only he hadn't stopped at the red light…
If only he hadn't lost a few precious seconds locking the car-because deep down, where it counts, he still lives in Chino and old habits are hard to break…
But no, he had to be three seconds late, had to enter the store as Johnny was high on adrenaline and completely panicked. And then Johnny turned to the door, gun pointed unsteadily in Ryan's direction, and his fingers must have twitched because the bullet was fired and of course, the way Ryan's luck always goes, Johnny didn't miss.
Fucking idiot anyway.
***
Things get blurry from time to time but Ryan never really loses consciousness. Sometimes, the voices around him get really distant, but he can still hear them. Sometimes, things get dark and fuzzy around the edges, but he can still see shapes moving in and out of his field of vision.
He feels numb, and that's probably a good thing.
He's cold, hears himself complaining about it several times before the medics wrap a blanket around him, shortly after lifting him on a stretcher.
He allows them to strap him down, passively answers their questions about how he feels and who they can contact for him, barely registers the trip to the hospital, doesn't protest when nurses in the ER cut off his clothes from his body, only lies there, staring at the blinding lights above him, not caring what the doctors say around him.
Fucking red light.
He's missing the first-and hopefully last-Chrismukkah Bar Mitz-vahkkah ever.
He should be scared, but all he can feel is embarrassed because damn, he just got shot by Johnny. After surviving his family and the likes of AJ, it feels pretty damn ironic to get shot by a Californian, brain-dead surfer.
"You're going to be all right," a dark-haired man tells him, and Ryan is slightly interested in the situation again.
"Yeah?" he asks.
The guy-around forty, with the face of someone who saw a lot of shit in his life-nods. "Back with us?"
"Was I gone?" Ryan wonders, his voice sounding raspy and breathless, almost drowned out by the beeping of the monitors. He feels out of it, the sensation not unlike being high, and he starts getting worried again.
"Ever heard the saying, the lights were on but no one was in?" the guy-a doctor, Ryan surmises-asks with a kind smile.
I was just thinking, Ryan wants to say. The doctor doesn't leave him time to answer, though. "Your parents are on the way, but your stats are a little worrisome, so we're going to take you to the OR right now, okay?" he asks.
"Do I have a choice?" He's starting to feel dizzy, and when he tries to shift on the gurney, it hurts badly enough that he groans behind clenched teeth. "What's wrong?"
The doctor's face takes on an alarmed look, then everything turns to black.
***
"Hey, kid," Sandy says once Ryan manages to focus on him. It feels like it has taken him the better part of a day to get his eyes to open all the way and turn to the man looming over him. It's only when Sandy speaks that the dots connect and Ryan recognizes him. "How do you feel?"
"Stoned." Ryan swallows, grimacing a little. "I think."
"Does it hurt?"
Ryan doesn't feel like talking again so he shakes his head.
There's a short silence, broken by Sandy. "Kirsten and Seth are here. I sent them to the cafeteria when you started to wake up. We didn't want to crowd you right away."
"'Kay." There's a strange sensation in his side, like something is pulling at his skin, and a kind of distant pain, probably kept at bay by some very good drugs. It might explain why nothing makes much sense now. "Sandy?"
"Yeah." Sandy smiles at him, and Ryan finds it a little freaky.
"What's wrong with me?"
Sandy sighs, puts a hand on Ryan's arm. "You were shot, remember?"
Fucking red light is the first thing that comes to mind. For a brief moment, he's scared he said that out loud, then realizes he didn't. "Yeah," he says.
"The bullet missed your spleen, but it did nick an artery. You started bleeding pretty badly in the ER." He sighs again. "You scared everyone there."
"Huh," is pretty much everything Ryan can manage.
"I'm sorry," Sandy says. "Damn, kid… I'm so sorry."
"What for?" Ryan asks. He frowns slightly. "Did I ruin Chrismukkah?"
Sandy looks taken aback by the question, but before he can reply, Seth speaks up from the doorway. "I told you, man, it's impossible to ruin Chrismukkah."
Ryan can't help smiling slightly as Seth enters the room, Kirsten following close behind.
"How do you feel?" she immediately asks.
He shrugs. "Huh," he says again, which he thinks pretty much sums it up. Seth is starting to tease him about his lack of verbal skills, Kirsten is frowning in concern, and Ryan swallows, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. It takes him a minute to realize why that is, and when he does, he turns to the Cohens.
"Sandy?" he calls.
"Yeah, kid."
"Sick."
Sandy barely has time to grab a basin and help Ryan into a sitting position before the real fun begins.
***
Johnny gets caught two days later, trying to cross the border to Mexico.
Could this guy get any more cliché? Ryan wonders.
Marissa cries a little-she tried so hard to help Johnny and yet, he still screwed up. Ryan knows that feeling very well.
Johnny's mother asks Sandy if he would represent her son. Sandy replies, coldly, that he's not really a lawyer anymore. Ryan had never heard Sandy sounding quite so angry before, not even when he got kicked out of Harbor. For some reason, it makes him feel vindicated that Sandy is angry on his behalf.
***
Ryan spends five days in the hospital before being allowed home.
Marissa is waiting for him in the pool house, wringing her hands, teary-eyed. Funny how pretty much every guy she tries to help ends up in the waving-guns, raving-maniac category.
"I'm sorry," she says. "If I had known…"
"Neither of us knew," Ryan says, trying to appease her. "It's okay. You couldn't have known."
"But if I had gone after him myself-"
"Marissa, don't, okay?" Ryan carefully sits on the edge of his bed, mindful of the stitches. As much as it sucks, he wouldn't have wanted Marissa to enter that store and find herself facing a gun. Not after what happened with Oliver. Not after what happened with Trey. "Have you heard from Johnny?"
"No," she says in a small voice. "Well, her mom can't get the money to bail him out."
Maybe we should throw a party to raise funds, Ryan wants to say, and he's surprised at the venom in the thought.
"The DA says that it won't be difficult to convict him," Marissa goes on.
Yeah, because Johnny was so stupid that he went to rob a store without even wearing a ski mask, a cap, gloves, or anything at all.
Clearly, criminals in Orange County are even more idiotic than on the rest of the planet.
Yeah, big surprise there.
***
"Dude, this wounded hero look is really working for you," Seth says when Ryan drags himself into the kitchen the next morning, feeling like crap and probably looking like it.
"Thanks, Seth," he groans.
He can feel Kirsten and Sandy's eyes on him as he grabs a box of cereal and sits at the table, bypassing the counter-no way is he hopping up on a stool any time soon.
"You sleep okay?" Sandy asks.
"Not really," Ryan admits. Being shot hurts a lot more than one might think, and on top of it, he kept trying to roll over to his side, disturbing the wound and painfully waking up again.
Seth is staring at his cup of coffee like it holds the answers to every mystery in the world. "So, Chrismukkah this year didn't really live up to expectations," he finally announces.
"Oh, I don't know, son," Sandy disagrees, sipping his own drink. "I liked the two of us, singing Jewish songs in a room full of Wasps, only to be interrupted by a phone call saying that our missing family member had been shot and was on his way to the hospital."
Ryan would like to apologize but Kirsten is glaring at Sandy, in a way so reminiscent of Caleb that Ryan has to duck his head to hide his smile instead. "That's not funny, Sandy!" she snaps. "I was scared to death."
"So was I," Sandy replies, sobering up immediately, squeezing her shoulder. He turns to Ryan. "Never do that again, kid."
"Sorry," Ryan replies.
"It's not your fault," Sandy says. "I know you were trying to help-just like I said you should," he adds with a heartfelt sigh.
"When have I ever needed instructions to rush into these situations?" Ryan retorts.
"I know, but in this case, you wanted to call it off, and I should have listened."
"Could we just… not do this?" Ryan asks. "The only one to blame isn't here, so…"
"Right," Seth jumps in. "Enough said, though I want to state, for the record," he adds, "that Ryan, once again, clearly had Jesus and Moses on his side."
"I was shot," Ryan points out.
"Yes, but you're alive and there's no permanent damage. A Chrismukkah miracle if I ever saw one," Seth replies smugly.
Ryan can't really argue with that, so he doesn't try.
***
Ryan feels a little guilty about walking out of the New Year’s Eve party, small as it is, but there's just no way he can sit any longer without passing out. He waited too long already before going to lie down.
He knows Seth wanted the whole family together at midnight, but there's no way that's happening. Not if Seth wants him conscious during the countdown, at any rate.
"You okay, Ryan?" Kirsten asks from the doorway.
He smiles tiredly at her, gesturing at his bed. "I need to lie down," he says. His voice takes on an urgent tone and she rushes to him, pulls the covers back, then keeps a hand on his arm, ready to steady him, while he lies down.
"Painkiller?" she asks once he's flat on his back.
"Would be good," he admits.
She hurries to the bathroom and comes back with a glass of water, then takes the bottle of painkillers on the nightstand and hands it to him. He shakes a pill into his hand with a "Thanks," and swallows it.
"No problem." When she looks at him with concern, he wonders if he looks as pale and tired as he feels. "Are you sure you're okay?"
He nods. "Yeah. I just waited too long." He sighs. "The pill's going to make me sleep," he says.
"I know."
"Seth wanted-"
She shakes her head before he can finish the sentence. "Don't worry about that," she says, her voice firm. "If you need to rest, then you need to rest. We can wish each others a happy new year tomorrow morning." She smiles. "I'm pretty sure the year will still be new by then."
He chuckles. "Right."
She still looks worried. "Maybe you should stay in the house…"
It's not like she didn't offer it several times already and Ryan replies the same thing he always does. "I'd rather sleep in my own bed, but thanks." His eyes are closing already as the pull of sleep gets stronger. He feels Kirsten reach over and put a cool hand on his forehead.
"I don't have a fever," he says.
Her voice is very soft when she replies, "I know."
Then, Ryan feels her taking off his shoes. He tries to thank her, but he's not sure that what comes out of his mouth is anything other than garbled nonsense.
"No problem," Kirsten says, and Ryan wants to smile, because she's pretty good at guessing what he wants to say. "Sleep well, sweetie."
Ryan allows himself to sink into sleep as she retreats.
"It's going to be okay," is the last thing he hears.
TBC...
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. Huge thanks to joey51 for beta'ing this. All remaining mistakes are mine, for I tinkered…
an atwood chrismukkah
Part One
Fucking red light, Ryan thinks as he hits the ground, the gunshot still echoing in the small store.
Then the pain hits, and he can't think about anything anymore. Breathing through it is hard enough.
He hears someone yelling next to him, hears a moan, then a pain sharper than before makes him cry out, and his vision whites out.
***
When he can see again, someone is hovering above him-the cashier, Ryan realizes when he spots the nametag. "It's okay," the man keeps saying. "Just keep breathing, kid."
Right, Ryan's sarcastic inner voice (when did it start to sound so disturbingly like Seth?) chimes in. Keep breathing, because really, it wouldn't do to die because of that fucking red light.
If only he hadn't had to stop, he would have been able to catch up with Johnny before that fucking idiot pulled out his gun.
If only he had left the party thirty seconds earlier…
If only he hadn't stopped at the red light…
If only he hadn't lost a few precious seconds locking the car-because deep down, where it counts, he still lives in Chino and old habits are hard to break…
But no, he had to be three seconds late, had to enter the store as Johnny was high on adrenaline and completely panicked. And then Johnny turned to the door, gun pointed unsteadily in Ryan's direction, and his fingers must have twitched because the bullet was fired and of course, the way Ryan's luck always goes, Johnny didn't miss.
Fucking idiot anyway.
***
Things get blurry from time to time but Ryan never really loses consciousness. Sometimes, the voices around him get really distant, but he can still hear them. Sometimes, things get dark and fuzzy around the edges, but he can still see shapes moving in and out of his field of vision.
He feels numb, and that's probably a good thing.
He's cold, hears himself complaining about it several times before the medics wrap a blanket around him, shortly after lifting him on a stretcher.
He allows them to strap him down, passively answers their questions about how he feels and who they can contact for him, barely registers the trip to the hospital, doesn't protest when nurses in the ER cut off his clothes from his body, only lies there, staring at the blinding lights above him, not caring what the doctors say around him.
Fucking red light.
He's missing the first-and hopefully last-Chrismukkah Bar Mitz-vahkkah ever.
He should be scared, but all he can feel is embarrassed because damn, he just got shot by Johnny. After surviving his family and the likes of AJ, it feels pretty damn ironic to get shot by a Californian, brain-dead surfer.
"You're going to be all right," a dark-haired man tells him, and Ryan is slightly interested in the situation again.
"Yeah?" he asks.
The guy-around forty, with the face of someone who saw a lot of shit in his life-nods. "Back with us?"
"Was I gone?" Ryan wonders, his voice sounding raspy and breathless, almost drowned out by the beeping of the monitors. He feels out of it, the sensation not unlike being high, and he starts getting worried again.
"Ever heard the saying, the lights were on but no one was in?" the guy-a doctor, Ryan surmises-asks with a kind smile.
I was just thinking, Ryan wants to say. The doctor doesn't leave him time to answer, though. "Your parents are on the way, but your stats are a little worrisome, so we're going to take you to the OR right now, okay?" he asks.
"Do I have a choice?" He's starting to feel dizzy, and when he tries to shift on the gurney, it hurts badly enough that he groans behind clenched teeth. "What's wrong?"
The doctor's face takes on an alarmed look, then everything turns to black.
***
"Hey, kid," Sandy says once Ryan manages to focus on him. It feels like it has taken him the better part of a day to get his eyes to open all the way and turn to the man looming over him. It's only when Sandy speaks that the dots connect and Ryan recognizes him. "How do you feel?"
"Stoned." Ryan swallows, grimacing a little. "I think."
"Does it hurt?"
Ryan doesn't feel like talking again so he shakes his head.
There's a short silence, broken by Sandy. "Kirsten and Seth are here. I sent them to the cafeteria when you started to wake up. We didn't want to crowd you right away."
"'Kay." There's a strange sensation in his side, like something is pulling at his skin, and a kind of distant pain, probably kept at bay by some very good drugs. It might explain why nothing makes much sense now. "Sandy?"
"Yeah." Sandy smiles at him, and Ryan finds it a little freaky.
"What's wrong with me?"
Sandy sighs, puts a hand on Ryan's arm. "You were shot, remember?"
Fucking red light is the first thing that comes to mind. For a brief moment, he's scared he said that out loud, then realizes he didn't. "Yeah," he says.
"The bullet missed your spleen, but it did nick an artery. You started bleeding pretty badly in the ER." He sighs again. "You scared everyone there."
"Huh," is pretty much everything Ryan can manage.
"I'm sorry," Sandy says. "Damn, kid… I'm so sorry."
"What for?" Ryan asks. He frowns slightly. "Did I ruin Chrismukkah?"
Sandy looks taken aback by the question, but before he can reply, Seth speaks up from the doorway. "I told you, man, it's impossible to ruin Chrismukkah."
Ryan can't help smiling slightly as Seth enters the room, Kirsten following close behind.
"How do you feel?" she immediately asks.
He shrugs. "Huh," he says again, which he thinks pretty much sums it up. Seth is starting to tease him about his lack of verbal skills, Kirsten is frowning in concern, and Ryan swallows, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. It takes him a minute to realize why that is, and when he does, he turns to the Cohens.
"Sandy?" he calls.
"Yeah, kid."
"Sick."
Sandy barely has time to grab a basin and help Ryan into a sitting position before the real fun begins.
***
Johnny gets caught two days later, trying to cross the border to Mexico.
Could this guy get any more cliché? Ryan wonders.
Marissa cries a little-she tried so hard to help Johnny and yet, he still screwed up. Ryan knows that feeling very well.
Johnny's mother asks Sandy if he would represent her son. Sandy replies, coldly, that he's not really a lawyer anymore. Ryan had never heard Sandy sounding quite so angry before, not even when he got kicked out of Harbor. For some reason, it makes him feel vindicated that Sandy is angry on his behalf.
***
Ryan spends five days in the hospital before being allowed home.
Marissa is waiting for him in the pool house, wringing her hands, teary-eyed. Funny how pretty much every guy she tries to help ends up in the waving-guns, raving-maniac category.
"I'm sorry," she says. "If I had known…"
"Neither of us knew," Ryan says, trying to appease her. "It's okay. You couldn't have known."
"But if I had gone after him myself-"
"Marissa, don't, okay?" Ryan carefully sits on the edge of his bed, mindful of the stitches. As much as it sucks, he wouldn't have wanted Marissa to enter that store and find herself facing a gun. Not after what happened with Oliver. Not after what happened with Trey. "Have you heard from Johnny?"
"No," she says in a small voice. "Well, her mom can't get the money to bail him out."
Maybe we should throw a party to raise funds, Ryan wants to say, and he's surprised at the venom in the thought.
"The DA says that it won't be difficult to convict him," Marissa goes on.
Yeah, because Johnny was so stupid that he went to rob a store without even wearing a ski mask, a cap, gloves, or anything at all.
Clearly, criminals in Orange County are even more idiotic than on the rest of the planet.
Yeah, big surprise there.
***
"Dude, this wounded hero look is really working for you," Seth says when Ryan drags himself into the kitchen the next morning, feeling like crap and probably looking like it.
"Thanks, Seth," he groans.
He can feel Kirsten and Sandy's eyes on him as he grabs a box of cereal and sits at the table, bypassing the counter-no way is he hopping up on a stool any time soon.
"You sleep okay?" Sandy asks.
"Not really," Ryan admits. Being shot hurts a lot more than one might think, and on top of it, he kept trying to roll over to his side, disturbing the wound and painfully waking up again.
Seth is staring at his cup of coffee like it holds the answers to every mystery in the world. "So, Chrismukkah this year didn't really live up to expectations," he finally announces.
"Oh, I don't know, son," Sandy disagrees, sipping his own drink. "I liked the two of us, singing Jewish songs in a room full of Wasps, only to be interrupted by a phone call saying that our missing family member had been shot and was on his way to the hospital."
Ryan would like to apologize but Kirsten is glaring at Sandy, in a way so reminiscent of Caleb that Ryan has to duck his head to hide his smile instead. "That's not funny, Sandy!" she snaps. "I was scared to death."
"So was I," Sandy replies, sobering up immediately, squeezing her shoulder. He turns to Ryan. "Never do that again, kid."
"Sorry," Ryan replies.
"It's not your fault," Sandy says. "I know you were trying to help-just like I said you should," he adds with a heartfelt sigh.
"When have I ever needed instructions to rush into these situations?" Ryan retorts.
"I know, but in this case, you wanted to call it off, and I should have listened."
"Could we just… not do this?" Ryan asks. "The only one to blame isn't here, so…"
"Right," Seth jumps in. "Enough said, though I want to state, for the record," he adds, "that Ryan, once again, clearly had Jesus and Moses on his side."
"I was shot," Ryan points out.
"Yes, but you're alive and there's no permanent damage. A Chrismukkah miracle if I ever saw one," Seth replies smugly.
Ryan can't really argue with that, so he doesn't try.
***
Ryan feels a little guilty about walking out of the New Year’s Eve party, small as it is, but there's just no way he can sit any longer without passing out. He waited too long already before going to lie down.
He knows Seth wanted the whole family together at midnight, but there's no way that's happening. Not if Seth wants him conscious during the countdown, at any rate.
"You okay, Ryan?" Kirsten asks from the doorway.
He smiles tiredly at her, gesturing at his bed. "I need to lie down," he says. His voice takes on an urgent tone and she rushes to him, pulls the covers back, then keeps a hand on his arm, ready to steady him, while he lies down.
"Painkiller?" she asks once he's flat on his back.
"Would be good," he admits.
She hurries to the bathroom and comes back with a glass of water, then takes the bottle of painkillers on the nightstand and hands it to him. He shakes a pill into his hand with a "Thanks," and swallows it.
"No problem." When she looks at him with concern, he wonders if he looks as pale and tired as he feels. "Are you sure you're okay?"
He nods. "Yeah. I just waited too long." He sighs. "The pill's going to make me sleep," he says.
"I know."
"Seth wanted-"
She shakes her head before he can finish the sentence. "Don't worry about that," she says, her voice firm. "If you need to rest, then you need to rest. We can wish each others a happy new year tomorrow morning." She smiles. "I'm pretty sure the year will still be new by then."
He chuckles. "Right."
She still looks worried. "Maybe you should stay in the house…"
It's not like she didn't offer it several times already and Ryan replies the same thing he always does. "I'd rather sleep in my own bed, but thanks." His eyes are closing already as the pull of sleep gets stronger. He feels Kirsten reach over and put a cool hand on his forehead.
"I don't have a fever," he says.
Her voice is very soft when she replies, "I know."
Then, Ryan feels her taking off his shoes. He tries to thank her, but he's not sure that what comes out of his mouth is anything other than garbled nonsense.
"No problem," Kirsten says, and Ryan wants to smile, because she's pretty good at guessing what he wants to say. "Sleep well, sweetie."
Ryan allows himself to sink into sleep as she retreats.
"It's going to be okay," is the last thing he hears.
TBC...