OC Fic : Empty Diary (11/11)
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!
Epilogue
Early in July, Ryan starts accompanying Matt on his daily, very-early-morning runs.
The conversation is mostly one-sided. Matt is a bit of health nut and runs every day, even in the most suffocating heat. Ryan has made do with PE classes, and he feels ashamed at being so out of shape. From the pictures he saw, he knows he was a lot more athletic before the accident, but he lost a lot of weight then, and he never bothered to do anything about it until now.
So he accompanies Matt and listens as his friend complains about his parents, the heat, and the fact that all the cool chicks have gone out of town for the holidays.
"Julia is still here," Ryan points out.
"Julia's not cool," Matt retorts. "She's… you know. One of the guys."
Ryan spends a few entertaining moments imagining Julia's reaction if she ever heard something like that. "Hm. Better keep that theory to yourself."
Matt chuckles. "Oh, believe me, I will."
They go on for a while in silence before Matt speaks again. "So, how's your job going?"
He's not even out of breath, damn him.
Ryan has to speak in short, clipped words to avoid hyperventilating, and his friend looks like he'd be content running and babbling all day.
"Job's fine." And it taught Ryan one important thing. Popular knowledge is all wrong: dog isn't man's best friend, AC is. He doesn't think he'd have survived his first week at the restaurant without it.
Ryan's relieved when Matt stops long enough to drink some water, still running in place.
Sweat is trickling down Ryan’s back, down his face, making him yearn for a shower.
"It has never been this hot, even in the summer," Matt observes, his thoughts following the same lines as Ryan's.
That's all anyone can talk about these days: how unusual the heat is, this close to the ocean.
"Great." Ryan takes a few deep breaths and gulps down water. "We move up North and it's actually hotter here than in Southern California."
Matt doesn't look convinced. "Come on. I'm sure it must be hell inland, but Newport can't have been too bad, right?"
Newport sucked, actually. Granted, Ryan only vaguely remembers it-his most vivid memories are that of Caleb, and of his hospital room. Reason enough to wish never to go back there.
"I don't know. I wasn't really paying attention to the weather, honestly."
With that, Ryan starts running again, leaving Matt trailing behind him for a while.
"Got it," Matt says when he catches up. "No more bringing up Southern California."
"Sorry." Ryan slows down a little-he needs to be able to make it back home, and he won't if he starts sprinting now. "I just-" Wish I could forget it. No, scratch that. Not forget.
"You just don't want to talk about it ever again. Gotcha."
His friends rarely push him to talk. Sometimes, Ryan feels bad for always keeping them at arm's length. It's not like they don’t know what happened to him. What he didn't tell them, they must have guessed by now. "Maybe not never," he says. "Just not right now." Not in the open, not while he's trying to get some real exercise for the first time in a year and definitely not without some alcohol involved.
Bad enough that he has to talk to the shrink the Cohens force him to go to-a forty-something, no-nonsense lady who at least doesn't make Ryan want to bang his head on her desk repeatedly.
He'll tell his friends more eventually, but that won't be for a long time yet.
Matt nods and starts to smile. "Okay then. I'll be sure to harass you again for more insight into your mysterious life. Later."
That, Ryan knows he can count on.
***
Dawn calls him again that night.
Obviously, her resolve to get clean didn't last very long.
Ryan listens to her for exactly three minutes, and hangs up on her when she starts repeating herself.
He doesn't think he could stand it much longer without losing it.
He can faintly hear the Cohens' voices downstairs. Sandy's home, which means dinner-tonight, Chinese food-must be on the way.
Ryan briefly toys with the idea of staying in his room for a while longer-just long enough to pull himself together in private.
Dawn's phone calls always leave him feeling insecure and unsettled. The Cohens don't need to know that.
Then he remembers Kirsten asking him to come to them if Dawn called again.
What does he have to lose?
It's not like the Cohens haven't seen him at his worst already.
It's not like he doesn't owe them for what he put them through.
It's not like they won't worry if he stays here instead of joining them.
And sure, walking down the stairs, going to them and saying, "Dawn just called," is hard.
Just not as hard as he thought it would be.
"Was she…?" Sandy asks.
"Drunk? Yeah." Ryan could try to smile but he doesn't think he'd make it.
Damn it.
Even if he didn't really believe Dawn's promises, he was still hoping.
A little.
Is this what his relationship with his mother has always been like? Promises, always followed by disappointment?
Kirsten rubs his shoulders gently. "You okay?"
"Yeah." They both look at him, making him want to roll his eyes. Why doesn't anyone believe him when he says that? Is he really that transparent? "I used to think that nothing was worse than not remembering," he offers.
"And now?"
"Now, I'm not so sure."
***
Much later that night, the Cohens and Ryan are watching a movie-it was Sandy's turn to choose, and amazingly, he didn't choose a Stallone. Of course Steven Seagal is even worse, but Ryan suspects that it was the whole point-show them something worse and they won't complain as much next time Sandy wants to watch Rocky.
Kirsten is half asleep and Sandy looks amused at the cliché-ridden scenario.
Ryan has stopped paying attention after the first five minutes, instead thinking about what Dawn screamed at him earlier on the phone-something about how worthless he is, and about how the Cohens would tire of him just as she did.
Ryan knows better than to believe anything she says.
Really, he does.
Still, after everything he did, he needs to know.
This time, he's the one asking, "Why?"
Sandy looks at him, surprised. "What's that, kid?"
He blushes and stares at the screen. "Why? Why did you take me in?" he asks, more clearly.
"Ah."
Ryan waits, but when nothing more comes, curiosity gets the better of him. "Ah, what?"
"That's something I've been asked by a lot of people," Sandy replies. "But never by you. I like to think that you knew what my reasons were, but… Maybe you were just scared of what the answer would be."
He pauses as if gathering his thoughts.
After a while, Sandy starts smiling. "The best answer I've ever found was, why not?"
"That's it?" Kirsten stirs in her sleep and Ryan lowers his voice. "That's your explanation?"
Sandy shrugs easily. "You needed a place to stay and people to take care of you. We had the room and we cared."
"So, why not, huh?" Why not take a teenager in, raise him as their own, hold his hand when he gets into a car crash, help him through the pain, the frustration, the maddening lack of everything that made him, him, all the while grieving for their other son.
Why not, indeed?
And the Cohens don't even seem to realize how extraordinary it all is.
"Do you regret it?" Sandy asks after a while. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't left Chino, but you almost certainly wouldn't have been involved in that accident, so…"
So he wouldn't have lost all his memories and been stuck with strangers-strangers who, somewhere along the lines, have become his family.
Ryan shakes his head. "No. No, I don't." He swallows nervously before asking, "Do you? Regret it?" Because if I hadn't been there, perhaps your son wouldn't have died. And you sure as hell wouldn't have to worry whenever I decide to be stubborn and do things the hard way.
"Never," Sandy says. The conviction in his tone takes Ryan by surprise.
"Really?" he hears himself asking.
Sandy doesn't reply, waiting until Ryan shoots a nervous look at him. "We love you, and in all the ways that count, you're our son," he says.
"Even when I do stupid stuff?" he asks.
Sandy barks out a sharp laugh. "You're a teenager, Ryan. We knew what we were getting into. So, yes. Even then."
The words sound a lot like a promise and Ryan allows himself to believe it.
The Cohens could have washed their hands of him long ago, and they didn't.
Surely that must mean something.
"You're stuck with us for the long haul, kid," Sandy says.
And that is definitely something Ryan can live with.
end
Thanks so much for reading, everyone.
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!
Epilogue
Early in July, Ryan starts accompanying Matt on his daily, very-early-morning runs.
The conversation is mostly one-sided. Matt is a bit of health nut and runs every day, even in the most suffocating heat. Ryan has made do with PE classes, and he feels ashamed at being so out of shape. From the pictures he saw, he knows he was a lot more athletic before the accident, but he lost a lot of weight then, and he never bothered to do anything about it until now.
So he accompanies Matt and listens as his friend complains about his parents, the heat, and the fact that all the cool chicks have gone out of town for the holidays.
"Julia is still here," Ryan points out.
"Julia's not cool," Matt retorts. "She's… you know. One of the guys."
Ryan spends a few entertaining moments imagining Julia's reaction if she ever heard something like that. "Hm. Better keep that theory to yourself."
Matt chuckles. "Oh, believe me, I will."
They go on for a while in silence before Matt speaks again. "So, how's your job going?"
He's not even out of breath, damn him.
Ryan has to speak in short, clipped words to avoid hyperventilating, and his friend looks like he'd be content running and babbling all day.
"Job's fine." And it taught Ryan one important thing. Popular knowledge is all wrong: dog isn't man's best friend, AC is. He doesn't think he'd have survived his first week at the restaurant without it.
Ryan's relieved when Matt stops long enough to drink some water, still running in place.
Sweat is trickling down Ryan’s back, down his face, making him yearn for a shower.
"It has never been this hot, even in the summer," Matt observes, his thoughts following the same lines as Ryan's.
That's all anyone can talk about these days: how unusual the heat is, this close to the ocean.
"Great." Ryan takes a few deep breaths and gulps down water. "We move up North and it's actually hotter here than in Southern California."
Matt doesn't look convinced. "Come on. I'm sure it must be hell inland, but Newport can't have been too bad, right?"
Newport sucked, actually. Granted, Ryan only vaguely remembers it-his most vivid memories are that of Caleb, and of his hospital room. Reason enough to wish never to go back there.
"I don't know. I wasn't really paying attention to the weather, honestly."
With that, Ryan starts running again, leaving Matt trailing behind him for a while.
"Got it," Matt says when he catches up. "No more bringing up Southern California."
"Sorry." Ryan slows down a little-he needs to be able to make it back home, and he won't if he starts sprinting now. "I just-" Wish I could forget it. No, scratch that. Not forget.
"You just don't want to talk about it ever again. Gotcha."
His friends rarely push him to talk. Sometimes, Ryan feels bad for always keeping them at arm's length. It's not like they don’t know what happened to him. What he didn't tell them, they must have guessed by now. "Maybe not never," he says. "Just not right now." Not in the open, not while he's trying to get some real exercise for the first time in a year and definitely not without some alcohol involved.
Bad enough that he has to talk to the shrink the Cohens force him to go to-a forty-something, no-nonsense lady who at least doesn't make Ryan want to bang his head on her desk repeatedly.
He'll tell his friends more eventually, but that won't be for a long time yet.
Matt nods and starts to smile. "Okay then. I'll be sure to harass you again for more insight into your mysterious life. Later."
That, Ryan knows he can count on.
***
Dawn calls him again that night.
Obviously, her resolve to get clean didn't last very long.
Ryan listens to her for exactly three minutes, and hangs up on her when she starts repeating herself.
He doesn't think he could stand it much longer without losing it.
He can faintly hear the Cohens' voices downstairs. Sandy's home, which means dinner-tonight, Chinese food-must be on the way.
Ryan briefly toys with the idea of staying in his room for a while longer-just long enough to pull himself together in private.
Dawn's phone calls always leave him feeling insecure and unsettled. The Cohens don't need to know that.
Then he remembers Kirsten asking him to come to them if Dawn called again.
What does he have to lose?
It's not like the Cohens haven't seen him at his worst already.
It's not like he doesn't owe them for what he put them through.
It's not like they won't worry if he stays here instead of joining them.
And sure, walking down the stairs, going to them and saying, "Dawn just called," is hard.
Just not as hard as he thought it would be.
"Was she…?" Sandy asks.
"Drunk? Yeah." Ryan could try to smile but he doesn't think he'd make it.
Damn it.
Even if he didn't really believe Dawn's promises, he was still hoping.
A little.
Is this what his relationship with his mother has always been like? Promises, always followed by disappointment?
Kirsten rubs his shoulders gently. "You okay?"
"Yeah." They both look at him, making him want to roll his eyes. Why doesn't anyone believe him when he says that? Is he really that transparent? "I used to think that nothing was worse than not remembering," he offers.
"And now?"
"Now, I'm not so sure."
***
Much later that night, the Cohens and Ryan are watching a movie-it was Sandy's turn to choose, and amazingly, he didn't choose a Stallone. Of course Steven Seagal is even worse, but Ryan suspects that it was the whole point-show them something worse and they won't complain as much next time Sandy wants to watch Rocky.
Kirsten is half asleep and Sandy looks amused at the cliché-ridden scenario.
Ryan has stopped paying attention after the first five minutes, instead thinking about what Dawn screamed at him earlier on the phone-something about how worthless he is, and about how the Cohens would tire of him just as she did.
Ryan knows better than to believe anything she says.
Really, he does.
Still, after everything he did, he needs to know.
This time, he's the one asking, "Why?"
Sandy looks at him, surprised. "What's that, kid?"
He blushes and stares at the screen. "Why? Why did you take me in?" he asks, more clearly.
"Ah."
Ryan waits, but when nothing more comes, curiosity gets the better of him. "Ah, what?"
"That's something I've been asked by a lot of people," Sandy replies. "But never by you. I like to think that you knew what my reasons were, but… Maybe you were just scared of what the answer would be."
He pauses as if gathering his thoughts.
After a while, Sandy starts smiling. "The best answer I've ever found was, why not?"
"That's it?" Kirsten stirs in her sleep and Ryan lowers his voice. "That's your explanation?"
Sandy shrugs easily. "You needed a place to stay and people to take care of you. We had the room and we cared."
"So, why not, huh?" Why not take a teenager in, raise him as their own, hold his hand when he gets into a car crash, help him through the pain, the frustration, the maddening lack of everything that made him, him, all the while grieving for their other son.
Why not, indeed?
And the Cohens don't even seem to realize how extraordinary it all is.
"Do you regret it?" Sandy asks after a while. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't left Chino, but you almost certainly wouldn't have been involved in that accident, so…"
So he wouldn't have lost all his memories and been stuck with strangers-strangers who, somewhere along the lines, have become his family.
Ryan shakes his head. "No. No, I don't." He swallows nervously before asking, "Do you? Regret it?" Because if I hadn't been there, perhaps your son wouldn't have died. And you sure as hell wouldn't have to worry whenever I decide to be stubborn and do things the hard way.
"Never," Sandy says. The conviction in his tone takes Ryan by surprise.
"Really?" he hears himself asking.
Sandy doesn't reply, waiting until Ryan shoots a nervous look at him. "We love you, and in all the ways that count, you're our son," he says.
"Even when I do stupid stuff?" he asks.
Sandy barks out a sharp laugh. "You're a teenager, Ryan. We knew what we were getting into. So, yes. Even then."
The words sound a lot like a promise and Ryan allows himself to believe it.
The Cohens could have washed their hands of him long ago, and they didn't.
Surely that must mean something.
"You're stuck with us for the long haul, kid," Sandy says.
And that is definitely something Ryan can live with.
end
Thanks so much for reading, everyone.