OC Fic : Mothers and Sons (6/6)
Title : Mothers and Sons
Author : Helen C.
Rating : PG-13
Summary : Dawn and Ryan, and their f'cked up relationship. Also, Theresa and Ryan and their slightly less f'cked up relationship.
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.
AN1. This one was inspired by brandywine421's awesome breathe out, breathe in
AN2. I just wanted to explore some more the relationship between Ryan and Dawn (as if entire novels haven't been written about it already!).
I should warn that this is Ryan/Theresa. And yes, I should have remembered beforehand that I suck at writing romance, but the pairing is not the point of the story. I don't know what the point of the story is. I'll just let you guys decide.
Many thanks, as usual, to the ever awesome joey51 for betaing this! I tinkered; all remaining mistakes are mine.
Chapter Six
"Look, I don't know what the hell you think you can do for me, but I ain't interested, okay?"
The kid scowling at him could have been him, over a decade ago-defiant, angry, glaring at anyone who came within two feet of him.
Terrified.
Lost.
Carefully hiding behind his attitude, because it was the only way he knew how to protect himself.
Social Services had a file ten miles long about this kid-Billy, fifteen, father long gone, mother trying (and failing) to keep a job. Truancy, theft, fights, frequent visits to the hospital due to numerous biking accidents and tumbles down some stairs.
Of course, Ryan knew Billy wasn't interested.
They all said that.
He still gave him the card. "It's a shelter." Billy snorted derisively. "It's held by the church, but several of the people who work there are public defendants or teachers. They allow kids to stay overnight, under certain circumstances."
"Such as running from the cops?" Billy asked, feigning innocence.
Ryan didn't let his tone deter him. "Call them if you need help. If not, your court appointment is in two weeks, and I'd like to see you once before that."
For the first time, the kid looked worried. "Can you… I mean, can you convince the judge…"
"To go easy on you?"
Billy nodded.
"I can plead it down to misdemeanour, yes. But if you take one step over the line again-"
"Look, I do what I have to do to survive, okay?" Billy snapped. "It's not my fault things suck."
Ryan knew that all too well, too. "It's not mine either," he retorted. "You need to stay clean, or the judge won't go easy on you."
Billy nodded, shouldered his backpack, and walked away from Ryan, head down. Ryan watched him as he climbed into a car where he was greeted by a sharp slap on the cheek before it drove off.
Ryan gritted his teeth. For the thousandth time, he wondered what Sandy had seen that day. Had he seen the fear, the anger, the hopelessness? Was that why he had opened his house to Ryan? Had he been worried about Ryan when he saw Dawn yell at him?
Ryan shook himself.
None of that mattered, but Sandy was right. It didn't get any easier.
In fact, it got harder with each passing day to watch these kids go back to abusive parents, and to know that they were stuck in the situation and that there was very little he could do. They'd need to ask for help before their life changed. Most of them wouldn't. And those who did… well, they'd end up in foster care, and it was possible that it wouldn't improve their situation in the least.
Ryan knew all that-probably even better than Sandy, because he had lived through it. And he was just as helpless to change it as Sandy had been.
"You make a difference, kid," Sandy often told him. "I know it's hard to see it sometimes, but you do."
"So do you," Ryan always replied.
Neither of them felt it was good enough.
Sighing, Ryan headed back inside to take care of some more paperwork.
Maybe Billy would call the shelter. That would be something, at least-a first step.
A chance to get help.
Ryan could only hope for the best.
***
Ryan was about ready to call it a night when the phone rang. He checked the caller ID, frowning upon seeing Father Ellison's number. "Yeah?"
"Ryan? We got one of your clients here." The priest paused for a moment. "He says you gave him our card."
"Brown hair, blue eyes, about fifteen, scared as hell?"
"Yes. He's pretty banged up, but he doesn't want to say who did it to him. He refuses to talk to anyone but you."
Ryan sighed, torn between annoyance at the bad timing (he really wanted to go home, and this wouldn't be something he could solve in a few minutes), and relief that Billy had gone to the shelter. He was sure most of them threw away the card, but the ones who did ask for help usually ended up genuinely wanting to make a better life for themselves. And sometimes, just sometimes, the people at the shelter managed to help them.
Maybe it was a good sign that this one had come?
Maybe this one would be worth a fight, would be able to escape his life?
Every day was a new fight; Sandy had told him so when Ryan had chosen to work as a lawyer.
"I'll be here as soon as I can," he promised.
***
Ryan stumbled into the Cohens' home at five in the morning. It had taken most of the night to convince Billy to call Social Services-but given the state the kid had been in, and how jumpy he had been when Ryan had first seen him, he didn't see it as a waste of time.
Father Ellison would take care of calling in the morning and would get a hold of Ryan so he could assist in the interview, should the kid want him to be there.
Ryan felt tired to the bone.
Hearing Billy talk had brought back too many memories, none of them cheerful. He was so sick of seeing the effects of violence on these kids, and on himself.
Sandy was getting ready to go surfing when Ryan entered the kitchen. "Ryan?" His smile of welcome was tinged with worry. "Something wrong?"
Ryan shook his head, suddenly feeling like an idiot. Why was he even here? He'd had a bad day, and an even longer night, and he needed to see the Cohens? "Nah. Just…"
Sandy studied him as he trailed off. "Did you even get home last night?"
"No." Ryan sighed and hopped on a stool at the counter. After a beat, Sandy sat next to him, waiting patiently for Ryan to gather his thoughts. "I just…" He gestured to the door. "I really should go home." He had called Theresa to tell her he wouldn't be back for hours, and he had called again after leaving the shelter, but that didn't mean she was going to be okay with this.
Sandy said nothing, waiting for Ryan to make eye-contact before offering, "You know I'm always here if you want to talk, right?"
Ryan nodded. The Cohens' support was one of the few things he had allowed himself to rely on in, well, ever, really. Not that it stopped them from repeating, time and time again, that they would always be there.
"Now is as good a time as any."
"You were going to go surfing," Ryan said, still reluctant to disturb Sandy's plans.
"The ocean will still be here tomorrow. So will my surfboard." Ryan was still hesitating and Sandy added, "You're here, now."
Ryan conceded the point with a shrug. The least he could do was offer Sandy some explanation as to why he had appeared on his doorstep, looking like he was coming off a three-day-bender. So, he started talking, explaining how he had gotten the case and what the kid was like, and what he had looked like when Ryan had seen him later in the night.
Sandy didn't say much-just a few words of encouragement.
"It's hard," he said when Ryan stopped talking.
Yes, it was, in more ways than one.
"You're doing everything you can to help him. And then some, I'm sure."
Ryan shook his head, embarrassed. "I'm doing what's necessary. Nothing more. Sometimes…"
Sometimes, he wished there was more he could do.
"Me too, kid." Sandy moved closer to Ryan. There wasn't anything the man could say to make it better, but the silent show of support helped.
***
Later that week, just as Ryan was starting to think that he was going to have to pull another all-nighter if he wanted to finish his work, the phone startled him. This time, he didn't recognize the caller.
"I'm looking for Ryan Atwood?" a female voice said hesitantly when he picked up.
He felt his stomach twist. "Yeah, that's me."
"Sir, I'm Doctor Elizabeth Thompson, from the Chino Valley Hospital. I'm sorry to inform you that your mother was brought in earlier today."
Ryan breathed in sharply. "What happened?"
"She OD'd. She's stabilized, and we think she'll fully recover with time, but we need you to come take care of the paperwork. She's in no shape to do it herself."
Meaning she was in withdrawal and too incoherent to do it herself.
Meaning she was still alive, and that was something.
"I'll be right there." He hesitated before asking, "Is there anyone with her right now?"
The woman on the other end of the line hesitated briefly. "No. An anonymous call gave the dispatching the address and said to hurry. She was alone when we found her, and no one has been here to see her yet."
Ryan released the breath he had been holding. At least, there wouldn't be an enraged boyfriend to deal with tonight.
He thanked the doctor and hung up, then immediately called Theresa to tell her not to wait for him. It took him a moment to convince her that no, Dawn's boyfriend wouldn't be there, and that no, he didn't want any of the Cohens with him, and sure, he'd call her as soon as he got news.
Then he proceeded to drive to Chino as fast as he safely could.
***
He found Dawn sleeping, a heart monitor beeping regularly, an IV stuck in her hand.
He sat down and looked at her, wondering what had driven her to such extremes. She had a family who wanted to support her; why couldn't she accept their help? Was it for the same reasons Ryan so often ignored the Cohens' offers to help-pride, shame, and a misguided sense of independence?
Dawn was as strong-headed as he was.
It didn't mean that Ryan would stop trying to help her, just like the Cohens were still trying to help him.
Theresa didn't understand his relationship with Dawn. Neither did Seth, not really. Kirsten had Hailey as a sister and Caleb as a father, so she probably got why Ryan was doing it. Sandy had a deep sated urge to help others, so he probably understood too.
Understood why, no matter how much it hurt, Ryan kept rushing to Dawn whenever she needed him; why he held her in his arms while she sobbed and promised she'd do better.
Why he never forgot nor forgave what she had done to him, yet still did everything in his power to make sure she was well cared for.
Why he was going to pay for rehab, as many times as necessary, even though he knew she wouldn't stay sober once she was out.
It was exhausting, but the idea of not doing anything at all was downright horrifying.
Shaking himself, he started on the paperwork.
***
To Ryan's surprise, Dawn didn't protest the order to go to rehab.
He could have sworn she'd go kicking and screaming but obviously, she had been scared enough to accept help this time.
For how long? a little voice nagged him.
He didn't listen to it.
"I want to get to know my grandkid," Dawn said. "I can't do that if I die."
"No, you can't."
It wasn't the first time Dawn was determined to make things better.
But maybe, just maybe, this time it would work. Maybe the idea of spending more time with Daniel would make her more desperate to change? Ryan was torn between wanting to hope, and the cold knowledge that Dawn hadn't managed to hold it together for him and Trey. He didn't think Daniel would be enough of a reason but he couldn't let her see that.
She needed blind faith, otherwise she wouldn't even try.
"I'm sure it'll get better," he said. "If you want it bad enough."
She started to cry, apologizing for causing him so much trouble, asking for forgiveness, and he reached over and hugged her so she could cry on his shoulder.
This was their relationship-always had been, always would be. Dawn, clinging to him and apologizing, and him, burying the hurt and comforting her, and enjoying whatever sober moments she had.
He wasn't a desperate kid craving for affection any longer. He could stand her neediness a little better, he could hope for better days without fearing of seeing his whole world crumble if she failed. He could take what little she was able to give and be content with it.
"I can't promise I'll be able to do that."
"I know." He smiled at her. "I don't want you to. All I want is that you try to get better."
"I can try."
He leaned down to hug her again. "I love you," she whispered in his ear.
He closed his eyes and burned the words into his memory.
"I love you too," he said, straightening up.
He left the room on a last smile, and headed straight for his car.
He couldn't help wondering if she'd still be there tomorrow.
He couldn't help wondering if she'd stick with the rehab program this time.
He couldn't help hoping she would.
He couldn't help hoping she'd become a part of his life again.
He couldn't help hoping.
end
Author : Helen C.
Rating : PG-13
Summary : Dawn and Ryan, and their f'cked up relationship. Also, Theresa and Ryan and their slightly less f'cked up relationship.
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.
AN1. This one was inspired by brandywine421's awesome breathe out, breathe in
AN2. I just wanted to explore some more the relationship between Ryan and Dawn (as if entire novels haven't been written about it already!).
I should warn that this is Ryan/Theresa. And yes, I should have remembered beforehand that I suck at writing romance, but the pairing is not the point of the story. I don't know what the point of the story is. I'll just let you guys decide.
Many thanks, as usual, to the ever awesome joey51 for betaing this! I tinkered; all remaining mistakes are mine.
Chapter Six
"Look, I don't know what the hell you think you can do for me, but I ain't interested, okay?"
The kid scowling at him could have been him, over a decade ago-defiant, angry, glaring at anyone who came within two feet of him.
Terrified.
Lost.
Carefully hiding behind his attitude, because it was the only way he knew how to protect himself.
Social Services had a file ten miles long about this kid-Billy, fifteen, father long gone, mother trying (and failing) to keep a job. Truancy, theft, fights, frequent visits to the hospital due to numerous biking accidents and tumbles down some stairs.
Of course, Ryan knew Billy wasn't interested.
They all said that.
He still gave him the card. "It's a shelter." Billy snorted derisively. "It's held by the church, but several of the people who work there are public defendants or teachers. They allow kids to stay overnight, under certain circumstances."
"Such as running from the cops?" Billy asked, feigning innocence.
Ryan didn't let his tone deter him. "Call them if you need help. If not, your court appointment is in two weeks, and I'd like to see you once before that."
For the first time, the kid looked worried. "Can you… I mean, can you convince the judge…"
"To go easy on you?"
Billy nodded.
"I can plead it down to misdemeanour, yes. But if you take one step over the line again-"
"Look, I do what I have to do to survive, okay?" Billy snapped. "It's not my fault things suck."
Ryan knew that all too well, too. "It's not mine either," he retorted. "You need to stay clean, or the judge won't go easy on you."
Billy nodded, shouldered his backpack, and walked away from Ryan, head down. Ryan watched him as he climbed into a car where he was greeted by a sharp slap on the cheek before it drove off.
Ryan gritted his teeth. For the thousandth time, he wondered what Sandy had seen that day. Had he seen the fear, the anger, the hopelessness? Was that why he had opened his house to Ryan? Had he been worried about Ryan when he saw Dawn yell at him?
Ryan shook himself.
None of that mattered, but Sandy was right. It didn't get any easier.
In fact, it got harder with each passing day to watch these kids go back to abusive parents, and to know that they were stuck in the situation and that there was very little he could do. They'd need to ask for help before their life changed. Most of them wouldn't. And those who did… well, they'd end up in foster care, and it was possible that it wouldn't improve their situation in the least.
Ryan knew all that-probably even better than Sandy, because he had lived through it. And he was just as helpless to change it as Sandy had been.
"You make a difference, kid," Sandy often told him. "I know it's hard to see it sometimes, but you do."
"So do you," Ryan always replied.
Neither of them felt it was good enough.
Sighing, Ryan headed back inside to take care of some more paperwork.
Maybe Billy would call the shelter. That would be something, at least-a first step.
A chance to get help.
Ryan could only hope for the best.
***
Ryan was about ready to call it a night when the phone rang. He checked the caller ID, frowning upon seeing Father Ellison's number. "Yeah?"
"Ryan? We got one of your clients here." The priest paused for a moment. "He says you gave him our card."
"Brown hair, blue eyes, about fifteen, scared as hell?"
"Yes. He's pretty banged up, but he doesn't want to say who did it to him. He refuses to talk to anyone but you."
Ryan sighed, torn between annoyance at the bad timing (he really wanted to go home, and this wouldn't be something he could solve in a few minutes), and relief that Billy had gone to the shelter. He was sure most of them threw away the card, but the ones who did ask for help usually ended up genuinely wanting to make a better life for themselves. And sometimes, just sometimes, the people at the shelter managed to help them.
Maybe it was a good sign that this one had come?
Maybe this one would be worth a fight, would be able to escape his life?
Every day was a new fight; Sandy had told him so when Ryan had chosen to work as a lawyer.
"I'll be here as soon as I can," he promised.
***
Ryan stumbled into the Cohens' home at five in the morning. It had taken most of the night to convince Billy to call Social Services-but given the state the kid had been in, and how jumpy he had been when Ryan had first seen him, he didn't see it as a waste of time.
Father Ellison would take care of calling in the morning and would get a hold of Ryan so he could assist in the interview, should the kid want him to be there.
Ryan felt tired to the bone.
Hearing Billy talk had brought back too many memories, none of them cheerful. He was so sick of seeing the effects of violence on these kids, and on himself.
Sandy was getting ready to go surfing when Ryan entered the kitchen. "Ryan?" His smile of welcome was tinged with worry. "Something wrong?"
Ryan shook his head, suddenly feeling like an idiot. Why was he even here? He'd had a bad day, and an even longer night, and he needed to see the Cohens? "Nah. Just…"
Sandy studied him as he trailed off. "Did you even get home last night?"
"No." Ryan sighed and hopped on a stool at the counter. After a beat, Sandy sat next to him, waiting patiently for Ryan to gather his thoughts. "I just…" He gestured to the door. "I really should go home." He had called Theresa to tell her he wouldn't be back for hours, and he had called again after leaving the shelter, but that didn't mean she was going to be okay with this.
Sandy said nothing, waiting for Ryan to make eye-contact before offering, "You know I'm always here if you want to talk, right?"
Ryan nodded. The Cohens' support was one of the few things he had allowed himself to rely on in, well, ever, really. Not that it stopped them from repeating, time and time again, that they would always be there.
"Now is as good a time as any."
"You were going to go surfing," Ryan said, still reluctant to disturb Sandy's plans.
"The ocean will still be here tomorrow. So will my surfboard." Ryan was still hesitating and Sandy added, "You're here, now."
Ryan conceded the point with a shrug. The least he could do was offer Sandy some explanation as to why he had appeared on his doorstep, looking like he was coming off a three-day-bender. So, he started talking, explaining how he had gotten the case and what the kid was like, and what he had looked like when Ryan had seen him later in the night.
Sandy didn't say much-just a few words of encouragement.
"It's hard," he said when Ryan stopped talking.
Yes, it was, in more ways than one.
"You're doing everything you can to help him. And then some, I'm sure."
Ryan shook his head, embarrassed. "I'm doing what's necessary. Nothing more. Sometimes…"
Sometimes, he wished there was more he could do.
"Me too, kid." Sandy moved closer to Ryan. There wasn't anything the man could say to make it better, but the silent show of support helped.
***
Later that week, just as Ryan was starting to think that he was going to have to pull another all-nighter if he wanted to finish his work, the phone startled him. This time, he didn't recognize the caller.
"I'm looking for Ryan Atwood?" a female voice said hesitantly when he picked up.
He felt his stomach twist. "Yeah, that's me."
"Sir, I'm Doctor Elizabeth Thompson, from the Chino Valley Hospital. I'm sorry to inform you that your mother was brought in earlier today."
Ryan breathed in sharply. "What happened?"
"She OD'd. She's stabilized, and we think she'll fully recover with time, but we need you to come take care of the paperwork. She's in no shape to do it herself."
Meaning she was in withdrawal and too incoherent to do it herself.
Meaning she was still alive, and that was something.
"I'll be right there." He hesitated before asking, "Is there anyone with her right now?"
The woman on the other end of the line hesitated briefly. "No. An anonymous call gave the dispatching the address and said to hurry. She was alone when we found her, and no one has been here to see her yet."
Ryan released the breath he had been holding. At least, there wouldn't be an enraged boyfriend to deal with tonight.
He thanked the doctor and hung up, then immediately called Theresa to tell her not to wait for him. It took him a moment to convince her that no, Dawn's boyfriend wouldn't be there, and that no, he didn't want any of the Cohens with him, and sure, he'd call her as soon as he got news.
Then he proceeded to drive to Chino as fast as he safely could.
***
He found Dawn sleeping, a heart monitor beeping regularly, an IV stuck in her hand.
He sat down and looked at her, wondering what had driven her to such extremes. She had a family who wanted to support her; why couldn't she accept their help? Was it for the same reasons Ryan so often ignored the Cohens' offers to help-pride, shame, and a misguided sense of independence?
Dawn was as strong-headed as he was.
It didn't mean that Ryan would stop trying to help her, just like the Cohens were still trying to help him.
Theresa didn't understand his relationship with Dawn. Neither did Seth, not really. Kirsten had Hailey as a sister and Caleb as a father, so she probably got why Ryan was doing it. Sandy had a deep sated urge to help others, so he probably understood too.
Understood why, no matter how much it hurt, Ryan kept rushing to Dawn whenever she needed him; why he held her in his arms while she sobbed and promised she'd do better.
Why he never forgot nor forgave what she had done to him, yet still did everything in his power to make sure she was well cared for.
Why he was going to pay for rehab, as many times as necessary, even though he knew she wouldn't stay sober once she was out.
It was exhausting, but the idea of not doing anything at all was downright horrifying.
Shaking himself, he started on the paperwork.
***
To Ryan's surprise, Dawn didn't protest the order to go to rehab.
He could have sworn she'd go kicking and screaming but obviously, she had been scared enough to accept help this time.
For how long? a little voice nagged him.
He didn't listen to it.
"I want to get to know my grandkid," Dawn said. "I can't do that if I die."
"No, you can't."
It wasn't the first time Dawn was determined to make things better.
But maybe, just maybe, this time it would work. Maybe the idea of spending more time with Daniel would make her more desperate to change? Ryan was torn between wanting to hope, and the cold knowledge that Dawn hadn't managed to hold it together for him and Trey. He didn't think Daniel would be enough of a reason but he couldn't let her see that.
She needed blind faith, otherwise she wouldn't even try.
"I'm sure it'll get better," he said. "If you want it bad enough."
She started to cry, apologizing for causing him so much trouble, asking for forgiveness, and he reached over and hugged her so she could cry on his shoulder.
This was their relationship-always had been, always would be. Dawn, clinging to him and apologizing, and him, burying the hurt and comforting her, and enjoying whatever sober moments she had.
He wasn't a desperate kid craving for affection any longer. He could stand her neediness a little better, he could hope for better days without fearing of seeing his whole world crumble if she failed. He could take what little she was able to give and be content with it.
"I can't promise I'll be able to do that."
"I know." He smiled at her. "I don't want you to. All I want is that you try to get better."
"I can try."
He leaned down to hug her again. "I love you," she whispered in his ear.
He closed his eyes and burned the words into his memory.
"I love you too," he said, straightening up.
He left the room on a last smile, and headed straight for his car.
He couldn't help wondering if she'd still be there tomorrow.
He couldn't help wondering if she'd stick with the rehab program this time.
He couldn't help hoping she would.
He couldn't help hoping she'd become a part of his life again.
He couldn't help hoping.
end