In the Beginning 6
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 : Written for finlee, who wanted, "Ryan helps an old lady - who turns out to be the most feared woman in Newport Beach (but is actually very nice-she just likes people to be uncomfortable around her)."
Many thanks to joey51 for beta'ing this.
Chapter 6
For the next few days, Sandy and Kirsten watched Ryan and Seth like hawks, always ready to come to the rescue should the boys need any help. It was as amusing as it was touching and heartening, and despite Seth's loud complaints about his parents' hovering, Ryan quietly enjoyed it.
He couldn't bring himself to mind their attention, even though part of him (the part that kept insisting that it was safer to remain out of sight, hidden) felt a little overwhelmed by it all.
Ryan also knew that Seth, for all his complaints, appreciated everything his parents did for him.
"Dude, I'm glad you're here," Seth once said, after making sure that Kirsten was out of hearing range. "At least she gets to mother both of us… she'd have been so much more overbearing if I had been alone."
"Glad I could help," Ryan said sarcastically. "And all it took was me getting my ass kicked."
Seth looked slightly taken aback for a few seconds, then he smiled brightly. "But you get to be the wounded hero, man. Chicks like that."
What chicks? Ryan thought. Marissa was back with Luke, and it was not as if Ryan had had time to go out and meet anyone else. Not that he felt like socializing right now. He had been burned once with Marissa, and he was planning to stay as far away from Newport girls as he could manage. They obviously needed more than he was willing to give.
"All I got is a lousy cast," Seth added. "Pain in the ass. Look at the bright side, you're a hero and you won't need to spend weeks with a broken leg. Your bruises are almost gone."
Instinctively, Ryan reached up and touched the area around his eye. It was a lot less tender, but the bruise was still there, slowly turning yellow-a reminder of how bad things tended to get whenever the Atwood luck zeroed in on Ryan and messed with his life.
Seth didn't need to know that; if things held true, he'd figure out soon enough that, even in a supposedly safe environment, Ryan would still end up in fights. Trey used to call it Ryan's inner talent, his "gift," but he usually said so with a worried frown or a smack on Ryan's head, depending on his mood.
"Right," he said, since Seth seemed to be waiting for an answer. "Well, I can't wait until they're really gone and things go back to normal."
Seth stretched and yawned. "It sucks being stuck in the house."
Ryan hummed in agreement, even though he didn't find it that horrible, all things considered.
Of course, he tended to like quiet and stillness, whereas Seth was a "growing teenager in need of fresh air so he doesn't dwindle away," in his own words.
"And you know what's worse?" Seth asked.
"What?"
Seth gestured to his leg. "I won't be out of that thing before school starts."
"It won't be that bad," Ryan tried. "Injuries of war, and all that."
Seth shook his head, unconvinced.
Hell, Ryan himself wasn't convinced.
He had seen the way the Newport kids treated Seth, and from what little Seth had told him, he knew that only one thing would make it all better: graduation day.
Ryan thought about something comforting to say, like, "You won't be alone," or, "I'm sure they'll find someone else to bully this year," but everything sounded lame in his own head.
So, instead, he grabbed a controller. "Game?" he suggested.
Seth brightened at the suggestion.
***
When Sandy entered the poolhouse that afternoon, Ryan immediately guessed that they weren't going to talk about light-hearted topics, like the masterful way Ryan had kicked Seth's ass at the game, and the no less masterful way Seth had brooded and whined until Ryan accepted a rematch that he allowed Seth to win.
Sandy looked like a man on the warpath, and Ryan had already had ample opportunity to meet the man's obstinate side.
He wondered what he might have done to deserve a talking to, but since he hadn't left the house since he had been released from the hospital, he came up blank.
"Hey, kid. How are you doing?" Sandy asked, hovering near the door.
"Fine," Ryan said, carefully. "Did I do something?'"
Sandy frowned. "Why would you think-?"
"You have on your 'serious talk' face," Ryan pointed out.
Sandy had a brief, unconvincing smile. "I'm afraid so," he said. "But it's not anything you did."
"Okay," Ryan said.
He didn't know why he suddenly felt like he was treading on thin ice, but he had learned long ago to listen to his instincts. It was the sticking to his gut feeling part he still had problems with.
Sandy walked in and lowered himself on a seat. "I talked to our family doctor," he announced.
Unsure where this was going, Ryan nodded slowly.
"I made an appointment for you, in a few days, and I told him about what had happened to you, and…"
Sandy trailed off, staring down at his hands.
"Sandy?" Ryan asked.
Sandy sighed, and looked up at Ryan. "There's no easy way to ask this, so I'm just going to… in your file, there's a mention of one time when you were brought unconscious to the hospital. And Social Services finally forwarded your files from Fresno, since we've accepted to act as your guardians."
Ryan felt his face go blank, but didn't react, waiting to see what Sandy had to say.
"And there's a report of another…"
"Incident?" Ryan supplied when Sandy trailed off. He tried to keep his tone neutral, but the memories from Fresno were all but calm-inspiring.
Sandy bit his lip, looking as uncomfortable as Ryan had ever seen him. "Yes."
There was a tense silence, and Ryan focussed on the humming of the fridge; he usually found it soothing, but right this moment, it was grating on his nerves.
Right this moment, everything grated on his nerves.
"I assume that these weren't the only times you were knocked unconscious," Sandy finally said.
Ryan shook his head softly and Sandy sighed heavily, as if Ryan had just confirmed his suspicions.
"It wasn't-" Ryan tried to say.
Sandy cut him off. "It's okay, Ryan. I'm not trying to…" He sighed again.
Ryan looked down and waited for Sandy to say something else.
Nothing came.
"Is something wrong?" Ryan finally asked when he couldn't stand this silence one more minute.
Sandy shook himself and looked at Ryan, his face unreadable. "No, Ryan, nothing's wrong, don't worry."
"Then what… Sandy, you're a little…" Ryan trailed off, unsure how to put it. Intense? Worried? Freaked out?
Sandy got up and took a few steps. "Bill-he's our family doctor-told me a little about the possible consequences of suffering from several concussions, especially severe ones, and-"
Ryan tuned Sandy out. Well, at least it made sense now.
He had once, out of morbid curiosity, done some research himself on the same subject.
What he had found hadn't been heart-warming.
All the websites he had consulted insisted on the fact that there was no such thing as a "minor" concussion, and that the cumulative effects of several concussions could lead to permanent damage.
Memory loss.
Increased irritability.
Frequent migraines.
But he had never suffered from any of these symptoms-had never even had a really bad concussion, the kind of which would have scrambled his brain so bad that he'd need speech therapy or PT or something really expensive and specialized.
Sure, like everyone else, he knew he needed to avoid hitting his head, but so far, he had been lucky, and it wasn't as if he was doing it on purpose anyway.
"Sandy…" he started to say. Then he stopped, because, what could he say? "It's over now," he finished, lamely. Obviously, he had escaped serious consequences this time too-just a few bruises, and headaches that were starting to fade already.
"Yes," Sandy said, a hand coming to rest on Ryan's shoulder. "Yes, it is. But, Ryan, Bill is going to have a discussion with you on how important it is to try to avoid such injuries, and I thought I'd do the same thing, because…"
Because Ryan wouldn't stay lucky indefinitely.
Because head injuries were tricky, and they added up, and if he kept on his current pace, some day he was going to be in serious trouble, and Ryan didn't want that.
"I know," he said, as Sandy trailed off.
"Good," Sandy said. He smiled, kind and encouraging, like he usually did when he was trying to convince Ryan that he could make it work in Newport, with the Cohens, if he only tried. "Just… be careful, okay?"
Ryan wondered if Sandy had come directly from the doctor's office to his room, and what the doctor had told him to make him this frantic, this eager to make sure that Ryan wouldn't slam his head into the nearest wall, or against the ground, anytime soon.
"Ryan?"
It seemed like it was all he said, all Kirsten and Seth said; never do that again.
Ryan would have loved to grant them their wish, and would certainly do his best, but in the end, it all came down to the fact that he was pathologically unable to look away when someone needed help.
"I'll be careful," Ryan said. That much he could promise, but would being careful be enough?
Sandy patted his shoulder, nodded towards the house.
"Seth complained that he was hungry when I came back," he said. "Perhaps we should…"
Ryan shrugged. "Sure," he said, getting to his feet, Sandy staying close to him.
He felt Sandy's hand hovering on his back all the way to the kitchen.
Chapter 7