OC Fic: No Good Deed (2/3)
Title : No Good Deed
Author : Helen C.
Rating : PG-13
Summary : Written for chazper's Sandy is a... What? challenge. In this, Sandy is a presidential candidate.
Spoilers : This is wildly AU, so no spoilers.
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, and to chazper for organizing the challenge in the first place. It was great fun to write…
2005
Over the last couple of years, Ryan had grown used to meeting Congressmen and Senators, to seeing busy staffers rushing down the hallways of the White House and, sometimes, the Residence, and to having a team of Secret Service agents trailing Sandy, Seth and himself, everywhere they went.
He had even grown used to having a family again-of course, their circumstances were a little unusual, but somehow, Sandy always found a way to spend time with him and Seth, to watch movies with them, to ask them about their day and how things were going at school.
Sometimes, it dawned on Ryan that three years ago, he was living on the streets, hopeless and lonely and wondering whether this would be his life forever.
These times, he had to pinch himself, if only metaphorically, to remind himself that he wasn't dreaming his current life, that all of this was real, that home was actually the White House.
It never failed to amuse Seth, but then, Seth had known Sandy as a father before he had seen him as a political figure. Ryan had met Governor Cohen, and it had taken a while to get to know the man behind the function.
Sandy had taken steps to ensure that being in the public eye wouldn't disturb Seth and Ryan's lives too much, but some hassle was inevitable. No matter how sternly the journalists had been told never to bother them, some teens' papers wanted to know what it was like to be the President's kids, there were invitations to grand opening and screening premieres and, of course, both Seth and Ryan had won a lot of overnight friends.
Living their lives without the relative privacy of anonymity meant that they had to be careful who they befriended; some people would have loved nothing more than to throw dirt on them, in hopes that it would also taint Sandy's image. In some people's eyes, a President who wasn't totally perfect had no business running the country, and not controlling the two teenagers under his care would pass for a sign of imperfection.
It was a bit like living under siege, no matter how much Sandy stressed that, as teenagers, he didn't expect them to be perfect all the time, that everyone learned by making mistakes, that it was only expected that they would screw up sometimes and he wouldn't stop loving them if they did.
Sandy was a good man, but that didn't mean that Ryan wasn't scared of disappointing him, of causing trouble for him.
Which was why his hands were shaking as he sat on a bench in the park, waiting for Trey to show up.
"His" Secret Service agent-Harry Templeton-was standing silently behind him, undoubtedly watching the perimeter to make sure that everything was safe.
Three of his colleagues were around-one of them reading a newspaper a few benches to the left, one of them jogging on the trail nearby, one of them watching from the car at the gate.
In fact, there may be even more agents hiding around-Sandy had been understandably nervous when Ryan had told him about Trey asking to see him.
Hell, Ryan himself felt apprehensive, and Trey was his brother; he knew him, felt relatively confident that the guy wouldn't hurt him-not intentionally, at any rate. Not unless jail had changed him.
*
When Trey finally arrived, half an hour late, Ryan was cracking his knuckles absentmindedly, trying to look as if he wasn't a bundle of nerves.
He wanted this to go well, wanted his brother back into his life, wanted him to share some of what Ryan experienced every day.
He wanted Trey to be okay, to still be his brother, the guy he used to know in California.
"Hey, bro," Trey said.
Ryan looked up at him. "Hey," he replied.
Well over three years since the last time they had seen one another.
Three words, and Trey grinned and sat down next to Ryan, ignoring Harry and the other agents watching the scene. "How are you doing?"
Like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Like things hadn't changed.
Like they had seen each other yesterday.
Ryan started to breathe a little easier. "Fine. You?"
Trey shrugged easily. "Same old." He looked around, finally acknowledging the agents. "They with you, huh?"
Ryan looked at the ground, feeling a little dizzy as his past life and current life finally met. "Yeah," he said. "But we can talk," he added. "They're not supposed to repeat anything I say or do." Unless I'm in danger, he didn't add. Unless they think I'm in trouble.
"That's... cool," Trey eventually replied. "Might take some getting used to."
"You're telling me," Ryan said. "I'm not used to it. And it has been two years."
They shared a grin.
Like nothing had changed.
"Can you go get a drink somewhere?" Trey asked.
"The Secret Services secured a place down the street," Ryan replied. Just in case. "You wanna?" Hoping his brother would say yes.
*
Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in a booth with coffees in front of them, and Trey was looking around, suddenly fidgety.
"So," he eventually started as Ryan was trying to find something to say-something that didn't have anything to do with jail or Dawn or their father, preferably. "What is it like? Living in the White House?"
"Huh," Ryan said. Where to start? Seth could claim all he wanted that it was like living anywhere else (they had to go to school, come back and watch TV or play games, go to bed, and start it again the next day), Ryan found it deeply unsettling after life in Chino-and life on the streets.
He took a swallow of coffee, stalling.
"That bad?" Trey asked. "I'd have thought-"
"No," Ryan cut him off. "Not bad. Just different. It's weird always having people around, and having everyone watch you because you're... you know..."
"The President's kid, right." Trey's tone gave nothing away but for the first time since the beginning of this little reunion, Ryan felt the tension between them rise up a notch.
"Yes," he replied anyway. It would have been useless to deny it. Sandy had legally adopted him a few months after taking custody. Neither Frank (still in jail) nor Dawn (still missing) was in any position to protest.
Would Ryan have liked them to protest?
Maybe.
But then, it would have made everything so much more painful and complicated than this clean break, this new start.
He knew how much he owed Sandy.
He just hoped that, one day, he'd be able to pay him back.
Trey muttered something that might have been "fuck you," but it was too low for Ryan to be sure.
"You have any news of Frank or Dawn?" Ryan asked, deciding that even talking about their family couldn't be more awkward than this.
To his surprise, Trey nodded. "Yeah. Well, Frank's still in jail. Apparently, he was selling drugs from inside. He got caught. He'll be doing at least five more."
Ryan nodded. That much he knew. Sandy kept tabs on both of Ryan's parents-or, rather, on Frank, since no one could find Dawn. Ryan suspected some private detectives might be on the case, but he couldn't be sure.
He didn't want to know badly enough to ask.
Years later, he still wasn't over coming back and finding the house empty, with a note stuck to the counter telling him that he was on his own.
He had always forgiven Dawn in the past, but this, he just couldn't.
"Haven't heard from Dawn in ages, though," Trey added. "She never called me when I was inside. You?"
Ryan shook his head. "Sandy looked for her, before he adopted me."
"Not long and hard, apparently."
Ryan bristled at his tone. "Long enough that it was clear she didn't want to be found," he replied. Long enough that it was clear she had left for good.
He wished he had a way to know for sure whether or not she was still alive.
Or maybe it was better not to know. What would hurt more? Learn that she had been dead for years, without his knowing, without a chance to say goodbye, without even a proper funeral? Or to learn that she was alive and well, and she just didn't want to see him again?
Either would be painful enough that he preferred not knowing.
Trey raised his hands to placate him. "Sorry. Didn't mean anything by it."
Yes, you did.
Trey rarely said anything without intent.
He was an Atwood, just like Ryan, and Atwoods didn't waste words saying things they didn't mean.
"Why are you here?" Ryan asked.
He studied his brother intently, but the guy didn't give anything away when he said, "I just wanted to see how my little brother was doing. Nothing wrong with that, right?"
"Yeah. No."
I missed you, he wanted to say. I did.
But he couldn't say it; he knew all too well what Trey would reply.
"You okay?" he asked instead.
"No," Trey replied. "I mean, yeah, better now that I'm out of jail, but..." He looked around and snorted. "Fuck, I wish I'd had the kind of lucky break you had."
Ten months on the street, begging for change, stealing food left and right, breaking into a cold sweat every time a police car drove by.
But Ryan supposed that in Trey's eyes, it meant nothing if the end result was worth the pain; and sure, Ryan had lucked out.
Not many kids made it off the street, not alive and well at any rate.
He just wished he didn't have to live with a gaping wound the size of an empty house.
"I'm sorry," Ryan said.
I'm sorry our parents were screw-ups. I'm sorry you got arrested. I'm sorry you didn't meet a Sandy or a Seth. I'm sorry I wasn't a better brother.
I'm sorry I kind of don't want you here, because you have that look, and you're going to ask me something I can't give you and you'll be pissed.
I'm sorry; you're family, and I love you, but you scare me.
He felt like the worst asshole in the world for thinking so, but he owed too much to Sandy to fuck things up.
Not even for his brother.
"Not your fault," Trey replied, and Ryan could see that his brother meant it, despite everything.
He had gotten the rotten end of the deal, but at least some part of him was happy for Ryan, no doubt about that.
Ryan just didn't think it stopped there.
You didn't fly all this way to ask me how I was doing, did you, Trey?
Of course not.
You were released six months ago.
You could have called then, or any time since then.
"So," Trey started.
Ryan took the empty cup of coffee and held it with cold fingers, waiting.
"Do you think there's any way you can do me a favor?"
"What kind?" he asked, his tone neutral.
"Ten grand."
"Ah."
A tense silence followed.
Unsurprisingly, Trey was the first to break it. "So?"
"I don't have that kind of money."
"Don't shit me," Trey said, a note of anger creeping in his tone. "You got adopted by the fucking President. Don't tell me you're not good for it." He snorted. "I think it's the first time an Atwood can actually call some favors from someone influential."
"You think it's that simple?" Ryan asked. "I have a savings account I can't access until college, and spending money. That's it."
"But your adoptive father-"
The way he spat it out had Ryan clenching his teeth. "What? You think the President can just make a phone call and get ten grand? Without a word of explanation?"
"He's the President!"
"Exactly. Fuck, what world are you living in, Trey?" His voice was rising and he felt a hand settling on his shoulder. Trey leaned back in his seat as Harry asked, "Are you all right, here?"
Ryan nodded. "Sure. Sorry."
The agent withdrew but hovered closer to Ryan than he had before.
"So, you can't do anything, right?" Trey asked bitterly. "Does it even matter what these guys will do to me if I don't pay them?"
"Yes," Ryan snapped. "I can ask, but I can already tell you what the answer's going to be. At best, Sandy will tell you to go to the police and-"
Trey burst out laughing. "Are you kidding me? Fuck, what world do you live in, bro?" He stopped laughing as quickly as he had started. "Not mine, apparently."
Probably not.
Fuck.
"I'll ask," he replied. "I'll be in touch." But I don't think you'll like what I have to say.
Trey's fist hit the table, rattling it and stopping every discussion in the café. "Thanks so much," he said.
Ryan felt Harry grab his arm and start hauling him up.
He thought about protesting but it would only make more of a scene.
He docilely followed the man to the car, threw a look over his shoulder in time to see that another agent was talking to Trey, looming over him.
Fuck.
He rested his forehead on the window of the car, closed his eyes as the car drove away.
I'm sorry.
*
"I'm sorry, Ryan," Sandy said when Ryan finished explaining what had happened.
He was sure that Harry had already given a full report to Sandy, but he appreciated the fact that the man was willing to give him a chance to explain it himself-yet another thing Sandy tried to do to preserve a semblance of normal life.
"It's okay," he said. "Not your fault."
"I can ask around," Sandy offered. "Or, well, have my staff do it. Discreetly."
Ryan wanted to accept very much, but he had to ask, "What if it leaks? Wouldn't you get in trouble?"
"For trying to help one of my kids?" Sandy sat down. "I know the scrutiny gets a bit much sometimes but, Ryan, I like to think that most people in this country would understand that."
He put an arm on Ryan's shoulder. "I'll try. I just don't think there's much anyone can do to help Trey. He has to-"
"Help himself?" Ryan cut him off. "I'm not sure he will."
For what felt like the thousandth time since Harry had dragged him away from Trey, he wished he could just give his brother that money, make sure he'd live through this one.
"There's only so much anyone can do to help him, Ryan." Sandy's arm didn't leave his shoulder as he added, "When you came to see Seth instead of just running away, you helped yourself. And it wasn't an easy decision to make, was it?"
Ryan shook his head, conceding the point.
"Trusting near-strangers to do right by you... You know, when I think about it, I'm still amazed that you did that."
Ryan shot him a look, just in time to see Sandy turn to him. "And I'm glad you took that chance." He got to his feet, leaned down to plant a kiss on Ryan's forehead. "I love you. Don't forget, whatever happens, that we're here, and we're your family, too."
Ryan nodded, his throat too tight to speak.
Sandy was almost to the door when he asked, his back to Ryan, "You really wanted it to work out, didn't you? With your brother?"
Does it matter? Ryan almost asked. "It's not that I'm not grateful," he said instead. "I am."
Sandy turned back to him then, his soft gaze making Ryan look down. "I know that, kid."
"I just..." I miss my family too. There were good days, here and there, you know. It wasn't all screams and drugs and alcohol and whatever you think it was.
There were days when Dawn was a good mother, when Trey was a good brother, when he took care of me.
"He taught me how to ride a bike," he said, his voice strangled. "Did I ever tell you that?"
"No," Sandy replied, coming back to the couch where Ryan was sitting, hunched over with his head down. "No, you didn't."
"And to knot my shoe laces, too. And to fight back when these bullies tried to steal my money."
He felt the cushions shift when Sandy sat back next to him.
"I..."
I miss him.
It's not that I don't love you and Seth, I do, but fuck, I miss that Trey. And the Dawn who actually took care of me when I was sick and even the father who played with me, when he wasn't drunk.
"I know," Sandy said at last. "I wish I could..." He trailed of, then started again, "I don't want to say take that away from you, but at least make it easier for you."
"Yeah." Ryan snorted. "Well, it's not like you didn't do anything to help me, there..."
"I wish there was more to do."
"There isn't." I swear, Sandy.
Sandy pulled him closer to him and Ryan let him, leaning on the man and allowing him to offer what comfort he could. "Thanks," he said when he felt like he could speak again without breaking down.
"What are fathers for?"
Part Three
Author : Helen C.
Rating : PG-13
Summary : Written for chazper's Sandy is a... What? challenge. In this, Sandy is a presidential candidate.
Spoilers : This is wildly AU, so no spoilers.
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, and to chazper for organizing the challenge in the first place. It was great fun to write…
2005
Over the last couple of years, Ryan had grown used to meeting Congressmen and Senators, to seeing busy staffers rushing down the hallways of the White House and, sometimes, the Residence, and to having a team of Secret Service agents trailing Sandy, Seth and himself, everywhere they went.
He had even grown used to having a family again-of course, their circumstances were a little unusual, but somehow, Sandy always found a way to spend time with him and Seth, to watch movies with them, to ask them about their day and how things were going at school.
Sometimes, it dawned on Ryan that three years ago, he was living on the streets, hopeless and lonely and wondering whether this would be his life forever.
These times, he had to pinch himself, if only metaphorically, to remind himself that he wasn't dreaming his current life, that all of this was real, that home was actually the White House.
It never failed to amuse Seth, but then, Seth had known Sandy as a father before he had seen him as a political figure. Ryan had met Governor Cohen, and it had taken a while to get to know the man behind the function.
Sandy had taken steps to ensure that being in the public eye wouldn't disturb Seth and Ryan's lives too much, but some hassle was inevitable. No matter how sternly the journalists had been told never to bother them, some teens' papers wanted to know what it was like to be the President's kids, there were invitations to grand opening and screening premieres and, of course, both Seth and Ryan had won a lot of overnight friends.
Living their lives without the relative privacy of anonymity meant that they had to be careful who they befriended; some people would have loved nothing more than to throw dirt on them, in hopes that it would also taint Sandy's image. In some people's eyes, a President who wasn't totally perfect had no business running the country, and not controlling the two teenagers under his care would pass for a sign of imperfection.
It was a bit like living under siege, no matter how much Sandy stressed that, as teenagers, he didn't expect them to be perfect all the time, that everyone learned by making mistakes, that it was only expected that they would screw up sometimes and he wouldn't stop loving them if they did.
Sandy was a good man, but that didn't mean that Ryan wasn't scared of disappointing him, of causing trouble for him.
Which was why his hands were shaking as he sat on a bench in the park, waiting for Trey to show up.
"His" Secret Service agent-Harry Templeton-was standing silently behind him, undoubtedly watching the perimeter to make sure that everything was safe.
Three of his colleagues were around-one of them reading a newspaper a few benches to the left, one of them jogging on the trail nearby, one of them watching from the car at the gate.
In fact, there may be even more agents hiding around-Sandy had been understandably nervous when Ryan had told him about Trey asking to see him.
Hell, Ryan himself felt apprehensive, and Trey was his brother; he knew him, felt relatively confident that the guy wouldn't hurt him-not intentionally, at any rate. Not unless jail had changed him.
*
When Trey finally arrived, half an hour late, Ryan was cracking his knuckles absentmindedly, trying to look as if he wasn't a bundle of nerves.
He wanted this to go well, wanted his brother back into his life, wanted him to share some of what Ryan experienced every day.
He wanted Trey to be okay, to still be his brother, the guy he used to know in California.
"Hey, bro," Trey said.
Ryan looked up at him. "Hey," he replied.
Well over three years since the last time they had seen one another.
Three words, and Trey grinned and sat down next to Ryan, ignoring Harry and the other agents watching the scene. "How are you doing?"
Like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Like things hadn't changed.
Like they had seen each other yesterday.
Ryan started to breathe a little easier. "Fine. You?"
Trey shrugged easily. "Same old." He looked around, finally acknowledging the agents. "They with you, huh?"
Ryan looked at the ground, feeling a little dizzy as his past life and current life finally met. "Yeah," he said. "But we can talk," he added. "They're not supposed to repeat anything I say or do." Unless I'm in danger, he didn't add. Unless they think I'm in trouble.
"That's... cool," Trey eventually replied. "Might take some getting used to."
"You're telling me," Ryan said. "I'm not used to it. And it has been two years."
They shared a grin.
Like nothing had changed.
"Can you go get a drink somewhere?" Trey asked.
"The Secret Services secured a place down the street," Ryan replied. Just in case. "You wanna?" Hoping his brother would say yes.
*
Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in a booth with coffees in front of them, and Trey was looking around, suddenly fidgety.
"So," he eventually started as Ryan was trying to find something to say-something that didn't have anything to do with jail or Dawn or their father, preferably. "What is it like? Living in the White House?"
"Huh," Ryan said. Where to start? Seth could claim all he wanted that it was like living anywhere else (they had to go to school, come back and watch TV or play games, go to bed, and start it again the next day), Ryan found it deeply unsettling after life in Chino-and life on the streets.
He took a swallow of coffee, stalling.
"That bad?" Trey asked. "I'd have thought-"
"No," Ryan cut him off. "Not bad. Just different. It's weird always having people around, and having everyone watch you because you're... you know..."
"The President's kid, right." Trey's tone gave nothing away but for the first time since the beginning of this little reunion, Ryan felt the tension between them rise up a notch.
"Yes," he replied anyway. It would have been useless to deny it. Sandy had legally adopted him a few months after taking custody. Neither Frank (still in jail) nor Dawn (still missing) was in any position to protest.
Would Ryan have liked them to protest?
Maybe.
But then, it would have made everything so much more painful and complicated than this clean break, this new start.
He knew how much he owed Sandy.
He just hoped that, one day, he'd be able to pay him back.
Trey muttered something that might have been "fuck you," but it was too low for Ryan to be sure.
"You have any news of Frank or Dawn?" Ryan asked, deciding that even talking about their family couldn't be more awkward than this.
To his surprise, Trey nodded. "Yeah. Well, Frank's still in jail. Apparently, he was selling drugs from inside. He got caught. He'll be doing at least five more."
Ryan nodded. That much he knew. Sandy kept tabs on both of Ryan's parents-or, rather, on Frank, since no one could find Dawn. Ryan suspected some private detectives might be on the case, but he couldn't be sure.
He didn't want to know badly enough to ask.
Years later, he still wasn't over coming back and finding the house empty, with a note stuck to the counter telling him that he was on his own.
He had always forgiven Dawn in the past, but this, he just couldn't.
"Haven't heard from Dawn in ages, though," Trey added. "She never called me when I was inside. You?"
Ryan shook his head. "Sandy looked for her, before he adopted me."
"Not long and hard, apparently."
Ryan bristled at his tone. "Long enough that it was clear she didn't want to be found," he replied. Long enough that it was clear she had left for good.
He wished he had a way to know for sure whether or not she was still alive.
Or maybe it was better not to know. What would hurt more? Learn that she had been dead for years, without his knowing, without a chance to say goodbye, without even a proper funeral? Or to learn that she was alive and well, and she just didn't want to see him again?
Either would be painful enough that he preferred not knowing.
Trey raised his hands to placate him. "Sorry. Didn't mean anything by it."
Yes, you did.
Trey rarely said anything without intent.
He was an Atwood, just like Ryan, and Atwoods didn't waste words saying things they didn't mean.
"Why are you here?" Ryan asked.
He studied his brother intently, but the guy didn't give anything away when he said, "I just wanted to see how my little brother was doing. Nothing wrong with that, right?"
"Yeah. No."
I missed you, he wanted to say. I did.
But he couldn't say it; he knew all too well what Trey would reply.
"You okay?" he asked instead.
"No," Trey replied. "I mean, yeah, better now that I'm out of jail, but..." He looked around and snorted. "Fuck, I wish I'd had the kind of lucky break you had."
Ten months on the street, begging for change, stealing food left and right, breaking into a cold sweat every time a police car drove by.
But Ryan supposed that in Trey's eyes, it meant nothing if the end result was worth the pain; and sure, Ryan had lucked out.
Not many kids made it off the street, not alive and well at any rate.
He just wished he didn't have to live with a gaping wound the size of an empty house.
"I'm sorry," Ryan said.
I'm sorry our parents were screw-ups. I'm sorry you got arrested. I'm sorry you didn't meet a Sandy or a Seth. I'm sorry I wasn't a better brother.
I'm sorry I kind of don't want you here, because you have that look, and you're going to ask me something I can't give you and you'll be pissed.
I'm sorry; you're family, and I love you, but you scare me.
He felt like the worst asshole in the world for thinking so, but he owed too much to Sandy to fuck things up.
Not even for his brother.
"Not your fault," Trey replied, and Ryan could see that his brother meant it, despite everything.
He had gotten the rotten end of the deal, but at least some part of him was happy for Ryan, no doubt about that.
Ryan just didn't think it stopped there.
You didn't fly all this way to ask me how I was doing, did you, Trey?
Of course not.
You were released six months ago.
You could have called then, or any time since then.
"So," Trey started.
Ryan took the empty cup of coffee and held it with cold fingers, waiting.
"Do you think there's any way you can do me a favor?"
"What kind?" he asked, his tone neutral.
"Ten grand."
"Ah."
A tense silence followed.
Unsurprisingly, Trey was the first to break it. "So?"
"I don't have that kind of money."
"Don't shit me," Trey said, a note of anger creeping in his tone. "You got adopted by the fucking President. Don't tell me you're not good for it." He snorted. "I think it's the first time an Atwood can actually call some favors from someone influential."
"You think it's that simple?" Ryan asked. "I have a savings account I can't access until college, and spending money. That's it."
"But your adoptive father-"
The way he spat it out had Ryan clenching his teeth. "What? You think the President can just make a phone call and get ten grand? Without a word of explanation?"
"He's the President!"
"Exactly. Fuck, what world are you living in, Trey?" His voice was rising and he felt a hand settling on his shoulder. Trey leaned back in his seat as Harry asked, "Are you all right, here?"
Ryan nodded. "Sure. Sorry."
The agent withdrew but hovered closer to Ryan than he had before.
"So, you can't do anything, right?" Trey asked bitterly. "Does it even matter what these guys will do to me if I don't pay them?"
"Yes," Ryan snapped. "I can ask, but I can already tell you what the answer's going to be. At best, Sandy will tell you to go to the police and-"
Trey burst out laughing. "Are you kidding me? Fuck, what world do you live in, bro?" He stopped laughing as quickly as he had started. "Not mine, apparently."
Probably not.
Fuck.
"I'll ask," he replied. "I'll be in touch." But I don't think you'll like what I have to say.
Trey's fist hit the table, rattling it and stopping every discussion in the café. "Thanks so much," he said.
Ryan felt Harry grab his arm and start hauling him up.
He thought about protesting but it would only make more of a scene.
He docilely followed the man to the car, threw a look over his shoulder in time to see that another agent was talking to Trey, looming over him.
Fuck.
He rested his forehead on the window of the car, closed his eyes as the car drove away.
I'm sorry.
*
"I'm sorry, Ryan," Sandy said when Ryan finished explaining what had happened.
He was sure that Harry had already given a full report to Sandy, but he appreciated the fact that the man was willing to give him a chance to explain it himself-yet another thing Sandy tried to do to preserve a semblance of normal life.
"It's okay," he said. "Not your fault."
"I can ask around," Sandy offered. "Or, well, have my staff do it. Discreetly."
Ryan wanted to accept very much, but he had to ask, "What if it leaks? Wouldn't you get in trouble?"
"For trying to help one of my kids?" Sandy sat down. "I know the scrutiny gets a bit much sometimes but, Ryan, I like to think that most people in this country would understand that."
He put an arm on Ryan's shoulder. "I'll try. I just don't think there's much anyone can do to help Trey. He has to-"
"Help himself?" Ryan cut him off. "I'm not sure he will."
For what felt like the thousandth time since Harry had dragged him away from Trey, he wished he could just give his brother that money, make sure he'd live through this one.
"There's only so much anyone can do to help him, Ryan." Sandy's arm didn't leave his shoulder as he added, "When you came to see Seth instead of just running away, you helped yourself. And it wasn't an easy decision to make, was it?"
Ryan shook his head, conceding the point.
"Trusting near-strangers to do right by you... You know, when I think about it, I'm still amazed that you did that."
Ryan shot him a look, just in time to see Sandy turn to him. "And I'm glad you took that chance." He got to his feet, leaned down to plant a kiss on Ryan's forehead. "I love you. Don't forget, whatever happens, that we're here, and we're your family, too."
Ryan nodded, his throat too tight to speak.
Sandy was almost to the door when he asked, his back to Ryan, "You really wanted it to work out, didn't you? With your brother?"
Does it matter? Ryan almost asked. "It's not that I'm not grateful," he said instead. "I am."
Sandy turned back to him then, his soft gaze making Ryan look down. "I know that, kid."
"I just..." I miss my family too. There were good days, here and there, you know. It wasn't all screams and drugs and alcohol and whatever you think it was.
There were days when Dawn was a good mother, when Trey was a good brother, when he took care of me.
"He taught me how to ride a bike," he said, his voice strangled. "Did I ever tell you that?"
"No," Sandy replied, coming back to the couch where Ryan was sitting, hunched over with his head down. "No, you didn't."
"And to knot my shoe laces, too. And to fight back when these bullies tried to steal my money."
He felt the cushions shift when Sandy sat back next to him.
"I..."
I miss him.
It's not that I don't love you and Seth, I do, but fuck, I miss that Trey. And the Dawn who actually took care of me when I was sick and even the father who played with me, when he wasn't drunk.
"I know," Sandy said at last. "I wish I could..." He trailed of, then started again, "I don't want to say take that away from you, but at least make it easier for you."
"Yeah." Ryan snorted. "Well, it's not like you didn't do anything to help me, there..."
"I wish there was more to do."
"There isn't." I swear, Sandy.
Sandy pulled him closer to him and Ryan let him, leaning on the man and allowing him to offer what comfort he could. "Thanks," he said when he felt like he could speak again without breaking down.
"What are fathers for?"
Part Three