Playing the Hero (3/5)
Here's part 3 of the death fic.
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.
A/N : A plot-less, angsty, drabbly five-shots. I'm blaming this one on a comment made by mel39. Clearly, this is all her fault… Also, katwoman76, I'm terribly sorry about this; I swear, I won't do it again.
And thanks to the awsome joey51 for beta'ing this.
Part III
The three days following Ryan's… death (Kirsten can't stop hesitating before the two words, and she doesn't want to-if she starts saying it all in one breath, then she'll have accepted it, it will have become real, and she doesn't want Ryan's… death to become real) are spent in a flurry of movement.
First, there's the flight back to California, during which Kirsten tries to stay focused on the seat in front of her, on Seth's shaking hands, on Sandy's shell-shocked face, and not on the fact that there's a coffin in the plane, and that, somehow, it makes Ryan more of a thing put in a box than a person with dreams and feelings and hopes and memories.
A person who was loved.
A person Kirsten loved.
She had to grit her teeth when the airport personnel talked about "the coffin," and not "her son."
It happened so fast, she keeps thinking.
He had called home that morning, to tell her about a class he wanted to take but couldn't because there were too many students registered already. "I'm on a waiting list, I'll take it next semester," he'd said, and when Kirsten thinks about that now, she wants to scream.
It's not fair, she keeps thinking.
Ryan had survived his parents, his childhood, Marissa, Oliver, Trey, only to die all alone on the other side of the country, just as things were starting to look up for him.
He had had to fight to finish high school, he had had to fight to graduate with Seth and the others, he had had to fight to get into college, and now, all that was for nothing.
And yes, tragedies happen every day, and yes, young people die every day, but Ryan isn't just yet another tragedy.
He was her son, in all but name and blood.
He was her son.
***
Once the Cohens are back in California, good-wishers start to swamp the house, and there are people to call, a PI to hire to try to find Dawn again, a graveyard slot to buy, arrangements to be made for the funeral.
It doesn't sound right to think about Ryan and funeral at the same time.
She keeps expecting him to emerge from the pool house, keeps expecting him to tell her that everything is going to be all right, keeps expecting him to tell her that he's fine and not to worry, with a shy smile and a small shrug.
But Ryan doesn't emerge from the pool house.
Instead, there are Newpsies all over the place, with sympathetic smiles that don't reach their eyes, and empty words about a boy they never even took the time to know.
After a few hours of hearing the same words over and over again, Kirsten snaps and throws everyone out.
More than a few of her friends shoot strange looks at her, but Kirsten ignores them.
They'll get over it.
***
Marissa calls, late that evening, sobbing so hard that Kirsten can't understand what the girl is saying.
She doesn't feel strong enough to comfort Marissa.
Right now, she barely has the strength to stay sober, to not take the car and drive to the first store she can find and empty a bottle of vodka and sink into oblivion.
"Call your mother, sweetie," Kirsten tells Marissa.
Marissa says something, and Kirsten decides that it must have been a yes, so she says, "Good," and hangs up.
It's probably a little unfair to leave Marissa to deal with this alone, especially since Julie never liked Ryan and is unlikely to empathize with her daughter's pain, but Kirsten has to think about her family.
She has to think about Seth, who is holed up in his room and hasn't come out for hours, and about Sandy, who, once he was done talking to the PI, went to his office and closed the door on a mumbled, "Give me a minute."
Kirsten has to help her family first.
She likes Marissa, but the girl wasn't even with Ryan anymore; and Marissa will need more support than Kirsten feels capable of giving.
It has been over an hour since Sandy has disappeared, Kirsten notes, and she makes her way to his office.
***
Neither Kirsten nor Sandy sleep well that night.
In fact, Kirsten hasn't even closed her eyes, and given the way Sandy is lying ramrod stiff next to her, she'd bet that he didn't rest either.
"I still can't believe it," she whispers, as the sky starts to lighten, the shape of the furniture in the room becoming more precise as the light gets brighter.
"Me neither," Sandy replies, flatly.
Soon enough, they'll have to get up and face the day, and Kirsten would be more than happy to hide in her room until…
Until.
That's not an option, she knows, but in the meantime, she'll take whatever reprieve she can get.
Part Four
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.
A/N : A plot-less, angsty, drabbly five-shots. I'm blaming this one on a comment made by mel39. Clearly, this is all her fault… Also, katwoman76, I'm terribly sorry about this; I swear, I won't do it again.
And thanks to the awsome joey51 for beta'ing this.
Part III
The three days following Ryan's… death (Kirsten can't stop hesitating before the two words, and she doesn't want to-if she starts saying it all in one breath, then she'll have accepted it, it will have become real, and she doesn't want Ryan's… death to become real) are spent in a flurry of movement.
First, there's the flight back to California, during which Kirsten tries to stay focused on the seat in front of her, on Seth's shaking hands, on Sandy's shell-shocked face, and not on the fact that there's a coffin in the plane, and that, somehow, it makes Ryan more of a thing put in a box than a person with dreams and feelings and hopes and memories.
A person who was loved.
A person Kirsten loved.
She had to grit her teeth when the airport personnel talked about "the coffin," and not "her son."
It happened so fast, she keeps thinking.
He had called home that morning, to tell her about a class he wanted to take but couldn't because there were too many students registered already. "I'm on a waiting list, I'll take it next semester," he'd said, and when Kirsten thinks about that now, she wants to scream.
It's not fair, she keeps thinking.
Ryan had survived his parents, his childhood, Marissa, Oliver, Trey, only to die all alone on the other side of the country, just as things were starting to look up for him.
He had had to fight to finish high school, he had had to fight to graduate with Seth and the others, he had had to fight to get into college, and now, all that was for nothing.
And yes, tragedies happen every day, and yes, young people die every day, but Ryan isn't just yet another tragedy.
He was her son, in all but name and blood.
He was her son.
***
Once the Cohens are back in California, good-wishers start to swamp the house, and there are people to call, a PI to hire to try to find Dawn again, a graveyard slot to buy, arrangements to be made for the funeral.
It doesn't sound right to think about Ryan and funeral at the same time.
She keeps expecting him to emerge from the pool house, keeps expecting him to tell her that everything is going to be all right, keeps expecting him to tell her that he's fine and not to worry, with a shy smile and a small shrug.
But Ryan doesn't emerge from the pool house.
Instead, there are Newpsies all over the place, with sympathetic smiles that don't reach their eyes, and empty words about a boy they never even took the time to know.
After a few hours of hearing the same words over and over again, Kirsten snaps and throws everyone out.
More than a few of her friends shoot strange looks at her, but Kirsten ignores them.
They'll get over it.
***
Marissa calls, late that evening, sobbing so hard that Kirsten can't understand what the girl is saying.
She doesn't feel strong enough to comfort Marissa.
Right now, she barely has the strength to stay sober, to not take the car and drive to the first store she can find and empty a bottle of vodka and sink into oblivion.
"Call your mother, sweetie," Kirsten tells Marissa.
Marissa says something, and Kirsten decides that it must have been a yes, so she says, "Good," and hangs up.
It's probably a little unfair to leave Marissa to deal with this alone, especially since Julie never liked Ryan and is unlikely to empathize with her daughter's pain, but Kirsten has to think about her family.
She has to think about Seth, who is holed up in his room and hasn't come out for hours, and about Sandy, who, once he was done talking to the PI, went to his office and closed the door on a mumbled, "Give me a minute."
Kirsten has to help her family first.
She likes Marissa, but the girl wasn't even with Ryan anymore; and Marissa will need more support than Kirsten feels capable of giving.
It has been over an hour since Sandy has disappeared, Kirsten notes, and she makes her way to his office.
***
Neither Kirsten nor Sandy sleep well that night.
In fact, Kirsten hasn't even closed her eyes, and given the way Sandy is lying ramrod stiff next to her, she'd bet that he didn't rest either.
"I still can't believe it," she whispers, as the sky starts to lighten, the shape of the furniture in the room becoming more precise as the light gets brighter.
"Me neither," Sandy replies, flatly.
Soon enough, they'll have to get up and face the day, and Kirsten would be more than happy to hide in her room until…
Until.
That's not an option, she knows, but in the meantime, she'll take whatever reprieve she can get.
Part Four