OC Fic : Empty Diary (3/11)
Title : Empty Diary
Author : Helen C.
Rating : PG-13
Summary : Car accident. Ryan. Amnesia. There, that's clear, isn’t it?
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. This fic wouldn't be seeing the light of day if it hadn't been for Joey's enthusiastic comments and invaluable help. Thanks, again!
Chapter Two
Ryan never sees Mr. Nichol again after he gets out of the hospital.
As far as he can tell, Kirsten isn't talking to her father anymore, has actually left the Newport Group to avoid seeing him, and he is persona non grata at the Cohens'. Ryan isn't about to complain but he feels bad about that state of affairs. Kirsten has already lost her son, and now her father is out of her life as well. Being the reason behind the falling out is more than enough to make Ryan feel vaguely guilty.
It takes him three days to gather enough courage to apologize to Kirsten.
By then, he's so tired of procrastinating that he just sucks it up and goes look for her, intent on getting it out before he loses his courage again.
He finds her staring at the newspaper in the kitchen, a cup of coffee growing cold on the counter in front of her. He doesn't wait for her to acknowledge his presence, just starts talking, trying to convey in halting words how sorry he is, even if he doesn't know exactly why he's sorry.
Kirsten stands up when he starts talking, but she waits until he's finished before approaching him. "It's not your fault," she says. "None of this is your fault. He should never have said what he said."
...repaid her by killing my grandson…
Ryan closes his eyes, hoping it will help him escape the memory.
"Oh, sweetie," Kirsten whispers, her voice hoarse. She pulls Ryan close, her arm warm against his shoulders. When she speaks again, her tone is firm, leaving no room for doubt. "The accident wasn't your fault. I don't know why he said that, but it wasn't. I'm only sorry I didn't react sooner when he said those things."
When Ryan doesn't reply, Kirsten releases him and meets his eyes.
"Listen to me," she urges. "I know you don't remember the accident, but do you remember what we told you?"
He nods silently. At her raised eyebrow, he elaborates, "You said Seth was driving, and someone ran a red light and slammed into us."
The other driver wasn't even drunk, Sandy said. Just distracted; he didn't see the light turn red, didn't see the car in time. Just bad luck.
Kirsten is still staring at him, intent on convincing him. "Do you think we lied?"
Ryan shakes his head-he already had that discussion with Sandy at the hospital and trusts the Cohens a hell of a lot more than he does Mr. Nichol.
"Good," she says. "I won't ask you to forgive him, but please, at least don't believe a word my father told you."
"What he said about my past," Ryan starts. She sighs and looks away. "That was true," he adds.
Kirsten goes back to her seat, rubbing her eyes. "Things didn't happen the way he said they did," she says after a while. "And you may think it doesn't make a difference, but it does."
He isn't that convinced.
"You are a good person, Ryan," she adds almost pleadingly. "Trust me on that, at least, will you?"
I don't know who to trust, he wants to say. I can't even trust myself. I don't know who I am, and I'm not sure you do either.
It isn't anything he hasn't told her already, so he nods and lets it be.
***
It isn't long before a lady from Social Services pays them a visit.
She spends half an hour talking to the Cohens while Ryan paces in his room, resisting the urge to come downstairs and eavesdrop.
He feels slightly pissed that no one asked him to join the discussion, since he's the one they're talking about, but at the same time, he's not sure he wants to know exactly why they're discussing him. He hasn't done anything wrong and neither have the Cohens, so why is that woman there?
It seems like hours have passed when Kirsten asks Ryan to go to the kitchen. "She wants to talk to you."
She looks tense, and Ryan feels his apprehension rise up a notch.
"What does she want?"
Kirsten pauses mid-step, turns to Ryan. "She just has a few questions," she says.
"That's not what I asked," Ryan points out.
She smiles, looking minutely more relaxed than she did before. "No, it's not. I'm not sure what she wants, but I'm sure it's just routine. Don't worry about it."
Easier said than done, Ryan thinks as he takes his place at the kitchen table, facing the social worker.
"Mrs. Davenport," she introduces herself. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? The Cohens will be waiting just outside."
Sandy looks about to protest but a quick gesture from Kirsten silences him, and the Cohens leave, throwing a reassuring smile his way.
Mrs. Davenport then proceeds to ask Ryan, several times, if he likes it with the Cohens, if he's sure he likes it, if they're nice, if they help him enough with his recovery, if the fact that their son had died is distracting them from their duties to Ryan.
Ryan soon loses count of how many times she has asked these questions, instead focussing on the way she talks to him-very slowly and only using the simplest words, as if he's dense on top of amnesic.
He isn't sure what she wants from him, so he sticks with one word answers. Yes, he likes it with the Cohens; yes, they're nice; yes, they help him; no, they're not distracted from their duties-whatever the hell that means-because of their grief.
The Cohens may be strangers to him, but at this point, so is everyone else. The Cohens, at least, are growing familiar to him. He's starting to get used to the way Kirsten rubs his arm and tells him to breathe calmly when he has a headache; the way Sandy keeps ruffling his hair whenever they meet; the way they both look concerned and saddened when Ryan shuts down and glares at the ceiling of his room, frustrated at his lack of memories.
Is that woman trying to make him say he hates it here so she can take him away? The questions she asks him sure seem to lead to that conclusion.
But why now? Ryan wonders, his stomach twisting. Why not immediately after the accident? Why now that I'm starting to get used to this place?
The woman is annoying as hell, with her compassionate smile and the way she looks at him-the same way everyone but the Cohens and Summer and Luke look at him, as if he's a total dimwit.
She also makes Ryan very nervous. Is there an ulterior motive to her visit? If so, he can't see what it is. Is he just being paranoid?
He wonders if he would understand better if he had his memories intact. After all, given his history, he must have met with his fair share of social workers before.
Actually, for all he knows, she may be the social worker who handled his case when he came live with the Cohens. The thought is disturbing-she may know a lot about his past when he doesn't know the first thing about her. Naturally, everyone could claim as much these days.
There's no time to dwell on that now, no time to wonder about the woman's insistence or about whether or not they've met before. So, he says, "I'm fine here," keeping his tone firm.
Mrs. Davenport nods, takes a few notes and makes a move to pat his head as she's leaving.
Like she'd pat a dog, he thinks, disgusted, moving away from her.
He waits for a few minutes, trying to listen to what the woman is telling the Cohens, but he can't make it out.
When the Cohens come back into the kitchen, Ryan's relieved to see that they look slightly less tense than when they left.
"Is everything okay?" Ryan asks carefully.
"Sure," Sandy says. "They're just checking that you're fine here."
Why wouldn't I be? Ryan wonders again. "Yeah?"
Kirsten smiles reassuringly. "Yes. Don't worry; everything is fine."
***
It's late that night when Sandy carefully steps into Ryan's room. Ryan has been lying in the dark for hours, his talk with Mrs. Davenport playing over and over again in his head, trying to find out, from what she said, what her goal was.
He doesn't doubt the Cohens are telling the truth when they claim it was just a routine visit, but Ryan still feels wary.
Was he always that untrusting of Social Services?
And if so, what does the fact that he still is mean? Is it an echo of his past self, something of himself that survived the accident? Or did he merely hear too many stories in which social workers were, if not the bad guys, at least unsympathetic and cold characters?
"You awake?" Sandy whispers.
"Yeah." He sits up slowly, legs outstretched on the bed.
"Up for a meaningful talk?"
Ryan shrugs. Predictably, Sandy takes this as a yes and sits next to Ryan, not bothering to switch on the light. He doesn't say anything at first, which strikes Ryan as odd; he has already had many opportunities to observe that the man likes to talk.
"I don't know what you want from me," Ryan says when he feels that if the silence stretches longer, he's going to start screaming.
"I don't know what you want from us. I don't know what's going through your head. I have no idea how to make any of this better. And if I feel that confused, I hate to think about what you're going through," Sandy retorts.
"I just…" I just don't remember anything. I'm sick of it. And this woman and the way she looked at me, and fuck, everything's just too much right now.
"You just what?" Sandy asks gently.
"I don't know. I can't get used to anything. And my mother doesn't want me anymore. I'm stuck on that." And on everything else, too, but mostly on that.
He trails off. Sandy's hand comes to rest on his back, but the man still doesn't say anything.
"Was it like this the first time, too?" Ryan asks.
"I don't know. You never said anything. Not about that, not about what your life was like. Not really."
Ryan looks sideways, trying to decipher Sandy's expression in the dark. He has been told before that he has never been talkative, but not talking about such a huge thing seems hard to believe. "I didn't?"
"No. Which leads me to believe that you were deeply hurt, but didn't know how to talk about it. We never pushed you. You were always so damn skittish, even then, and we thought that when you trusted us enough, you would come to us." Regret tinges Sandy's tone when he adds, "If you only knew how much I regret that now, not having pushed you more. At least then maybe I could answer some of your questions."
"It's okay," Ryan offers. "I get why you didn't. And it's not… I do like it here. It's just that I have no idea what my life would be like elsewhere, and I think I'm supposed to know." He groans, frustrated. He has no idea how to even start explaining what he's feeling.
"I think I know what you mean," Sandy offers hesitantly. "And it's true that when you remembered your life with your other family, you at least had an idea of what the better and the worse of it was. Now you don’t have anything but us, right?"
"Yeah."
"I don't know what to do about it, though."
Ryan shrugs. He didn't expect Sandy to have all the answers-or any answer at all. He actually likes that Sandy is willing to admit that there are things he doesn't know. It makes Ryan feel less like a failure when he can't understand, well, pretty much everything that happens to him.
"Is Social Services going to take me away?" Ryan asks. Do you want them to?
"No. It was just a routine visit, Ryan. I promise."
Ryan hesitates for a long, painful while before whispering, "You know, you don't have to take me in, right? After what happened, I'd understand if you guys-"
He doesn't get any farther than that before Sandy raises a hand. "We would never throw you out," he says. "You're part of the family, now, and nothing will change that."
Ryan feels like his heart is starting to beat again. Funny, he hadn't realized it had stopped.
"You're stuck with us, and even if anyone tries to take you away… well, over my dead body, kid."
Ryan hears the promise and believes it.
Chapter 3
Author : Helen C.
Rating : PG-13
Summary : Car accident. Ryan. Amnesia. There, that's clear, isn’t it?
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. This fic wouldn't be seeing the light of day if it hadn't been for Joey's enthusiastic comments and invaluable help. Thanks, again!
Chapter Two
Ryan never sees Mr. Nichol again after he gets out of the hospital.
As far as he can tell, Kirsten isn't talking to her father anymore, has actually left the Newport Group to avoid seeing him, and he is persona non grata at the Cohens'. Ryan isn't about to complain but he feels bad about that state of affairs. Kirsten has already lost her son, and now her father is out of her life as well. Being the reason behind the falling out is more than enough to make Ryan feel vaguely guilty.
It takes him three days to gather enough courage to apologize to Kirsten.
By then, he's so tired of procrastinating that he just sucks it up and goes look for her, intent on getting it out before he loses his courage again.
He finds her staring at the newspaper in the kitchen, a cup of coffee growing cold on the counter in front of her. He doesn't wait for her to acknowledge his presence, just starts talking, trying to convey in halting words how sorry he is, even if he doesn't know exactly why he's sorry.
Kirsten stands up when he starts talking, but she waits until he's finished before approaching him. "It's not your fault," she says. "None of this is your fault. He should never have said what he said."
...repaid her by killing my grandson…
Ryan closes his eyes, hoping it will help him escape the memory.
"Oh, sweetie," Kirsten whispers, her voice hoarse. She pulls Ryan close, her arm warm against his shoulders. When she speaks again, her tone is firm, leaving no room for doubt. "The accident wasn't your fault. I don't know why he said that, but it wasn't. I'm only sorry I didn't react sooner when he said those things."
When Ryan doesn't reply, Kirsten releases him and meets his eyes.
"Listen to me," she urges. "I know you don't remember the accident, but do you remember what we told you?"
He nods silently. At her raised eyebrow, he elaborates, "You said Seth was driving, and someone ran a red light and slammed into us."
The other driver wasn't even drunk, Sandy said. Just distracted; he didn't see the light turn red, didn't see the car in time. Just bad luck.
Kirsten is still staring at him, intent on convincing him. "Do you think we lied?"
Ryan shakes his head-he already had that discussion with Sandy at the hospital and trusts the Cohens a hell of a lot more than he does Mr. Nichol.
"Good," she says. "I won't ask you to forgive him, but please, at least don't believe a word my father told you."
"What he said about my past," Ryan starts. She sighs and looks away. "That was true," he adds.
Kirsten goes back to her seat, rubbing her eyes. "Things didn't happen the way he said they did," she says after a while. "And you may think it doesn't make a difference, but it does."
He isn't that convinced.
"You are a good person, Ryan," she adds almost pleadingly. "Trust me on that, at least, will you?"
I don't know who to trust, he wants to say. I can't even trust myself. I don't know who I am, and I'm not sure you do either.
It isn't anything he hasn't told her already, so he nods and lets it be.
***
It isn't long before a lady from Social Services pays them a visit.
She spends half an hour talking to the Cohens while Ryan paces in his room, resisting the urge to come downstairs and eavesdrop.
He feels slightly pissed that no one asked him to join the discussion, since he's the one they're talking about, but at the same time, he's not sure he wants to know exactly why they're discussing him. He hasn't done anything wrong and neither have the Cohens, so why is that woman there?
It seems like hours have passed when Kirsten asks Ryan to go to the kitchen. "She wants to talk to you."
She looks tense, and Ryan feels his apprehension rise up a notch.
"What does she want?"
Kirsten pauses mid-step, turns to Ryan. "She just has a few questions," she says.
"That's not what I asked," Ryan points out.
She smiles, looking minutely more relaxed than she did before. "No, it's not. I'm not sure what she wants, but I'm sure it's just routine. Don't worry about it."
Easier said than done, Ryan thinks as he takes his place at the kitchen table, facing the social worker.
"Mrs. Davenport," she introduces herself. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? The Cohens will be waiting just outside."
Sandy looks about to protest but a quick gesture from Kirsten silences him, and the Cohens leave, throwing a reassuring smile his way.
Mrs. Davenport then proceeds to ask Ryan, several times, if he likes it with the Cohens, if he's sure he likes it, if they're nice, if they help him enough with his recovery, if the fact that their son had died is distracting them from their duties to Ryan.
Ryan soon loses count of how many times she has asked these questions, instead focussing on the way she talks to him-very slowly and only using the simplest words, as if he's dense on top of amnesic.
He isn't sure what she wants from him, so he sticks with one word answers. Yes, he likes it with the Cohens; yes, they're nice; yes, they help him; no, they're not distracted from their duties-whatever the hell that means-because of their grief.
The Cohens may be strangers to him, but at this point, so is everyone else. The Cohens, at least, are growing familiar to him. He's starting to get used to the way Kirsten rubs his arm and tells him to breathe calmly when he has a headache; the way Sandy keeps ruffling his hair whenever they meet; the way they both look concerned and saddened when Ryan shuts down and glares at the ceiling of his room, frustrated at his lack of memories.
Is that woman trying to make him say he hates it here so she can take him away? The questions she asks him sure seem to lead to that conclusion.
But why now? Ryan wonders, his stomach twisting. Why not immediately after the accident? Why now that I'm starting to get used to this place?
The woman is annoying as hell, with her compassionate smile and the way she looks at him-the same way everyone but the Cohens and Summer and Luke look at him, as if he's a total dimwit.
She also makes Ryan very nervous. Is there an ulterior motive to her visit? If so, he can't see what it is. Is he just being paranoid?
He wonders if he would understand better if he had his memories intact. After all, given his history, he must have met with his fair share of social workers before.
Actually, for all he knows, she may be the social worker who handled his case when he came live with the Cohens. The thought is disturbing-she may know a lot about his past when he doesn't know the first thing about her. Naturally, everyone could claim as much these days.
There's no time to dwell on that now, no time to wonder about the woman's insistence or about whether or not they've met before. So, he says, "I'm fine here," keeping his tone firm.
Mrs. Davenport nods, takes a few notes and makes a move to pat his head as she's leaving.
Like she'd pat a dog, he thinks, disgusted, moving away from her.
He waits for a few minutes, trying to listen to what the woman is telling the Cohens, but he can't make it out.
When the Cohens come back into the kitchen, Ryan's relieved to see that they look slightly less tense than when they left.
"Is everything okay?" Ryan asks carefully.
"Sure," Sandy says. "They're just checking that you're fine here."
Why wouldn't I be? Ryan wonders again. "Yeah?"
Kirsten smiles reassuringly. "Yes. Don't worry; everything is fine."
***
It's late that night when Sandy carefully steps into Ryan's room. Ryan has been lying in the dark for hours, his talk with Mrs. Davenport playing over and over again in his head, trying to find out, from what she said, what her goal was.
He doesn't doubt the Cohens are telling the truth when they claim it was just a routine visit, but Ryan still feels wary.
Was he always that untrusting of Social Services?
And if so, what does the fact that he still is mean? Is it an echo of his past self, something of himself that survived the accident? Or did he merely hear too many stories in which social workers were, if not the bad guys, at least unsympathetic and cold characters?
"You awake?" Sandy whispers.
"Yeah." He sits up slowly, legs outstretched on the bed.
"Up for a meaningful talk?"
Ryan shrugs. Predictably, Sandy takes this as a yes and sits next to Ryan, not bothering to switch on the light. He doesn't say anything at first, which strikes Ryan as odd; he has already had many opportunities to observe that the man likes to talk.
"I don't know what you want from me," Ryan says when he feels that if the silence stretches longer, he's going to start screaming.
"I don't know what you want from us. I don't know what's going through your head. I have no idea how to make any of this better. And if I feel that confused, I hate to think about what you're going through," Sandy retorts.
"I just…" I just don't remember anything. I'm sick of it. And this woman and the way she looked at me, and fuck, everything's just too much right now.
"You just what?" Sandy asks gently.
"I don't know. I can't get used to anything. And my mother doesn't want me anymore. I'm stuck on that." And on everything else, too, but mostly on that.
He trails off. Sandy's hand comes to rest on his back, but the man still doesn't say anything.
"Was it like this the first time, too?" Ryan asks.
"I don't know. You never said anything. Not about that, not about what your life was like. Not really."
Ryan looks sideways, trying to decipher Sandy's expression in the dark. He has been told before that he has never been talkative, but not talking about such a huge thing seems hard to believe. "I didn't?"
"No. Which leads me to believe that you were deeply hurt, but didn't know how to talk about it. We never pushed you. You were always so damn skittish, even then, and we thought that when you trusted us enough, you would come to us." Regret tinges Sandy's tone when he adds, "If you only knew how much I regret that now, not having pushed you more. At least then maybe I could answer some of your questions."
"It's okay," Ryan offers. "I get why you didn't. And it's not… I do like it here. It's just that I have no idea what my life would be like elsewhere, and I think I'm supposed to know." He groans, frustrated. He has no idea how to even start explaining what he's feeling.
"I think I know what you mean," Sandy offers hesitantly. "And it's true that when you remembered your life with your other family, you at least had an idea of what the better and the worse of it was. Now you don’t have anything but us, right?"
"Yeah."
"I don't know what to do about it, though."
Ryan shrugs. He didn't expect Sandy to have all the answers-or any answer at all. He actually likes that Sandy is willing to admit that there are things he doesn't know. It makes Ryan feel less like a failure when he can't understand, well, pretty much everything that happens to him.
"Is Social Services going to take me away?" Ryan asks. Do you want them to?
"No. It was just a routine visit, Ryan. I promise."
Ryan hesitates for a long, painful while before whispering, "You know, you don't have to take me in, right? After what happened, I'd understand if you guys-"
He doesn't get any farther than that before Sandy raises a hand. "We would never throw you out," he says. "You're part of the family, now, and nothing will change that."
Ryan feels like his heart is starting to beat again. Funny, he hadn't realized it had stopped.
"You're stuck with us, and even if anyone tries to take you away… well, over my dead body, kid."
Ryan hears the promise and believes it.
Chapter 3