OC Fic : Twelve Things That Never Happened to Ryan Atwood, 3
Title : Twelve Things That Never Happened to Ryan Atwood
Author : Helen C.
Rating : PG-13
Summary : Twelve things that never happened to Ryan. D'uh.
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. So it's been done before (most notably by the ever awesome brandywine421, who very much inspired this ficlet). What can I say? I just wanted to and brandy was okay with it, and come on, OliverGate means angst…
AN2. Huge thanks to joey51 for beta'ing this. As often happens, I tinkered. All remaining mistakes are mine.
words
"Don't move or I'll-" Oliver says, and Ryan freezes right where he is, mesmerized by the sight of the gun.
At this point, it wouldn't take much to push Oliver over the edge.
Never contradict the lunatic with the gun. That was Trey's rule of survival number 5, right between never fight AJ back and never tell Dawn to calm down when she's high on heroin.
"Oliver," Ryan starts. What he's going to say, he doesn't know himself. Not that it matters.
The gunshot is deafening, drowning out Ryan's words, and his thoughts, and everything.
There's red everywhere, Ryan notices next. Red around Oliver, red on Marissa-who has her hands on her face and her mouth wide open-red on the carpet, and there's some white in the red, and Ryan thinks numbly that he knows what it means, a knowledge he really wishes he didn't possess.
He feels a light touch on his shoulder and quickly brushes it off, leans over, hands on his knees, and throws up, squeezing his eyes shut.
Next thing he knows, there's a hand rubbing his back, and another one supporting him as he heaves and then, suddenly, as if someone had flipped on a switch, Ryan can hear again.
Marissa is screaming-a shrill, loud sound that makes Ryan wince.
There are men talking in the background, shouting orders.
Closer to him, he hears Sandy's warm, familiar, comforting voice, muttering endless reassurances. "It's okay, it's going to be okay, just hang in there, you're going to be fine."
"Sandy?" Ryan croaks, straightening up. He opens his eyes reluctantly, blinking in the harsh glare of the lights. Before he can look around, the hands-Sandy's hands, he realizes now-spin him around until he finds himself face to face with the man.
Sandy doesn't seem nearly as collected as he usually does. Scratch that. He looks downright panicked.
"Ryan?" Sandy gives him a once-over, as if checking for wounds. Ryan wishes he could tell Sandy not to bother, that Oliver is the one who's hurt, but he doesn't think his voice would cooperate.
Marissa is still screaming and Ryan turns in her direction. When his eyes fall on the floor, on Oliver's slumped body surrounded by security men trying to help, Sandy gets in his line of sight. "Don't look," he says both gently and urgently.
Ryan closes his eyes as Sandy pulls him into a hug.
All he can see behind his closed lids is red.
"It's gonna be okay," Sandy says, and Ryan thinks that this time, Sandy might be wrong.
***
The next morning, Ryan wakes up in the Cohens' guest room, feeling drowsy and hung over.
It takes a while for the memories to come back but eventually, his brain starts working again and he remembers coming back last night, remembers Kirsten hugging him and whispering that he was going to be fine, remembers Sandy saying, "You'll ask him in the morning, Seth."
He remembers the doctor, remembers the three pills Sandy handed him.
He remembers the red, and the bits of white in it. The look in Oliver's eyes, like a trapped animal knowing he won't be saved.
He remembers Marissa's screams, and he thinks there was an ambulance at some point, but he doesn't know if it was for Oliver or for her.
A noise at the door makes him look up.
"You awake?" Sandy asks.
"Yeah."
Ryan's voice is scratchy. How long has it been since he last used it? Did he say anything last night, after Oliver shot himself? He doesn't think he did and that probably worried the Cohens like hell.
"How do you feel?"
That has to be the stupidest question Sandy ever asked him, but Ryan supposes it's understandable, considering the circumstances.
"Okay."
And fuck if that's not the biggest lie he ever told anyone. It even beats all the "I fell down the stairs," he said in answer to his teachers' well-meaning but ultimately useless questions about the bruises on his face or his arms.
Sandy takes two steps into the room and stops.
"How's Marissa?" Ryan asks before Sandy can push for a more elaborate answer.
There's a flash of… something in Sandy's eyes and Ryan wishes he could tell what it means. "She was taken to the hospital. They gave her something," Sandy says.
Meaning they pumped her full of valium and let her sleep it off. Pretty much the same thing that happened to Ryan, minus the trip to the hospital.
Ryan wonders what Julie will make of this and how she'll spin it to make it all Ryan's fault. He's sure she'll find a way; Julie could find a way to blame global warming on Ryan if she tried.
Living in this town with all these rich people who look at him like he should be serving them instead of living with them, dating Marissa, is so tiresome sometimes.
"She'll-" Sandy starts. He doesn't finish his thought. Good thing, too, because Ryan will never be convinced that Marissa will deal with this well.
Ryan himself feels more than a little shaken up, and he didn't get Oliver's blood all over him.
There's no way anyone would be fine after that.
***
The Cohens keep Ryan home for three days-the time it takes for him to convince them that he's ready to go back to Harbor and he really shouldn't miss more classes than he already has.
Apparently, witnessing a suicide is enough for Dr Kim and the Board to reconsider his suspension. He's allowed back without further comment and he tries not to be cynical about that. He ignores the sideway glances and the whispers that seem to follow him everywhere he goes. Seth and Summer, Luke and Anna close up ranks around him, glaring at anyone who stares too insistently at him, snapping, "Go mind your own business," whenever someone tries to ask him what happened.
Julie sends Marissa to an in-patient facility, and doesn't allow her to come say goodbye to Ryan. She does, however, allow them one phone-call, probably at Marissa's insistence. Ryan is fairly sure Julie's listening to the discussion, but it doesn't matter. Marissa doesn't make much sense, sobbing uncontrollably, babbling that she's sorry, that she wants to be with Ryan, and can't Ryan help her, please, she'll never doubt him again if he helps her but she needs him, she doesn't want to go, why can't she stay?
Ryan makes shushing noises and mutters "It'll be fine," for ten minutes before Julie orders Marissa to hang up.
"I'm sorry Julie is sending Marissa away," Kirsten says, her tone not totally sincere.
Ryan feels for Marissa; she needs her friends around her. On the other hand, she also needs more help than he could give her, especially after this. And perhaps, just perhaps, if he had listened to Julie in the first place, things wouldn't have gotten quite so bad.
He thought he could help Marissa all by himself and once again, he failed.
Story of his life.
***
Things are pretty shitty, so it doesn't surprise Ryan when Social Services pay the Cohens a visit.
"Ryan witnessed someone his age commit suicide, and there had been some disciplinary issues before that," a bored-looking, middle-aged woman says, sitting down at the kitchen table.
She tells the Cohens to "give her a moment with Ryan," then starts shooting questions at him, asking him how he feels about Oliver's death (bad, thank you), whether or not the Cohens are making him see a counselor about it (no, not yet, but he thinks that there has been some talk about it), is he treated well (yes) and why did he feel the need to break into the files room at school ("I knew the guy was crazy and I needed proof because I couldn't get anyone to believe me," he thinks, but says, "It was an error in judgment, it won't happen again.")
She doesn't look satisfied, but she tells him to step out and send his guardians. Ryan can't help wincing at this formal way of referring to the Cohens. He doesn't think about them as foster parents or guardians; they're just the Cohens-the people who took him in when he had nowhere to go. Kirsten and Sandy.
He waits on the couch for them to come back, his stomach twisted up in knots, wondering if his bad calls and his failure to get Oliver some help will get him sent away.
When the Cohens escort the social worker to the door, she barely spares Ryan a glance. He waits for someone to say something, trying not to fidget.
"She won't recommend that you be sent somewhere else," Sandy says, once the door has closed on the social worker. Ryan breathes out softly. "This time," Sandy adds, looking serious.
Ryan nods, hearing the unspoken warning.
He can't afford to screw up on such a scale anymore. He can't afford to lose the Cohens. He doesn't think he could deal with seeing someone else die because he couldn't get people's attention the right way.
He's not sure how to change, though.
Would you teach me, Sandy? How can I find the right words when I see someone who needs help? What should I have done differently? How could I have saved Oliver's life? How could I have convinced Dawn to get help before she was totally lost?
"Ryan?"
"I know," he says. No more screwing up.
Right.
I can do that.
"How about Thai?" Sandy says, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Ryan nods, thinking he couldn't eat anything right now if his life depended on it.
He allows Sandy to guide him back to the kitchen, allows Sandy's words to soothe the hurt, tries to convince himself that maybe things will be all right in the end.
***
Ryan has nightmares almost every night. He tries not to let it show, tries to pretend that it's no big deal if he's tired in the morning, tries to pretend that he's just having a hard time keeping up in school.
Then, one evening, he falls asleep studying for his chemistry test and he wakes up with a scream stuck in his throat and Kirsten's hand on his arm.
The next day, she has Rosa set up the guest room for Ryan and orders him to bring his things in. "It's high time you lived inside anyway," she says when he tries to say he doesn't mind the pool house, that it's not worth going through all that trouble.
"It's just a few nightmares," he says.
He's not surprised when she doesn't buy his attempt at downplaying the problem. It has taken him a while, but he's starting to realize that the Cohens tend to care about things like that.
Kirsten seems to have a radar that allows her to know when Ryan has trouble sleeping; every time he wakes up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night, she appears in the doorway, takes him to the kitchen and makes hot chocolate for them both, or just hands him a glass of water.
She doesn't ask him to talk, she doesn't say much herself, but to Ryan's surprise, the nightmares start dwindling anyway.
***
The first time Kirsten orders Italian after Oliver's death, Seth asks for spaghetti.
It's a small detail and it shouldn't matter but while Ryan tries to eat his pizza, his eyes keep being drawn to the red tomato sauce on Seth's plate, and the white pasta in it.
He would have thought that the red would make him sick, but it's the sight of the white intermingled with the red that does it.
He bolts to his feet and rushes to the bathroom, barely noticing that Sandy is following him, and throws up for a long time, his stomach contracting every time he closes his eyes and remembers the red and white.
Sandy stays with him, hands him a glass of water when he's done, brushes his hair back from his sweaty forehead, and says, "So, no more Italian for a while, then?"
Ryan surprises himself by laughing shakily, briefly.
He thinks it's probably the first time that has happened since Oliver died.
"Sorry," he says.
"No problem, kid," Sandy replies.
***
Marissa comes back after two months away, thinner and sadder than before.
She's as beautiful as ever, though. Ryan wishes he could have prevented what happened, wishes he could have protected her-from herself, from Oliver, from him.
She apologizes to Ryan, says that Julie won't allow her to see him anymore, but she can be stealth and they'll-
Ryan cuts her off. Hiding seems like the worst idea ever and while it holds a certain appeal, Ryan knows that nothing good could come out of it.
She looks at him, tears in her eyes.
All he can see now when he looks at her is her face in Oliver's room, covered in blood, her skin white underneath all the red, her mouth open in a scream.
He wonders what she sees when she looks at him-her savior, when he couldn't spare her that? Or just a boy who'll anger her mother and get people to talk about her (someone who'll make people say something other than, "the poor girl witnessed a suicide, can you imagine?")
"I just can't," he says, willing her to understand, knowing that she won't.
He hates himself for doing this to her when she's this vulnerable but he's just not strong enough to shoulder her burdens on top of his own. Not when he couldn't help Oliver, or his mom, or anyone, even himself, ever.
He sees the pain and the need in her eyes, and it frightens him, but he stays firm and eventually, she leaves, head down, hair in her face.
She seems like a pale shadow of the girl he met a few months ago and he tries to squelch his first instinctive thought that it's all his fault.
It's going to take an army of professionals to wade through Marissa's issues, and there was nothing he could have done on his own.
He knows that perfectly well, should have known it long ago.
Whatever his problems with Julie might be, he can't deny that he should have listened to her, instead of blackmailing her to allow Marissa to stay in Newport.
That way, maybe he would have helped her.
Yet another bad call on his part.
Yet another mistake he can't afford to make again.
***
Later that night, Sandy finds standing next to the pool, smoking a cigarette in the dark, not really trying to hide.
"I thought you quit," Sandy says.
Ryan shrugs tiredly. Dealing with Marissa while running on all cylinders would have been hard enough, but on top of that the last three nights have been difficult. Kirsten seems as exhausted as Ryan feels. He supposes that's why Sandy is the one who came this time.
"Ryan, I know you don't want to talk about it," Sandy says.
Not wanting to talk about it is an understatement.
He couldn't make anyone see that Oliver was in deep trouble before he was pointing a gun at them, couldn't find a way to convince him that it wasn't worth using it
What are words good for anyway?
They never change anything. They didn't make Dawn keep him; they didn't make anyone believe Ryan when he tried to warn them.
They sure as hell didn't save Oliver's life.
They don't make anything better now.
Of course, Sandy isn't finished. "But-"
There's a tense silence and Ryan eventually looks at Sandy. "But you're going to talk anyway?"
"There were five other people in that room," he says. "And none of us could find anything to say to prevent that kid from… it's not your fault, Ryan. You tried to open our eyes way before it came to that."
"Not hard enough, or not well enough, apparently," Ryan says. Would you teach me, Sandy? So I don't make the same mistake again?
"You did the best you could," Sandy says. "I'm sorry it didn't work. I wish I could make it better, but you… you tried your best, Ryan. Oliver made his choice, too."
He doesn't say that Ryan has no responsibility in what happened, and Ryan is grateful for that. If only he had been able to communicate. If only he had Seth's gift with words. If only…
"How do you feel?" Sandy asks.
"Tired," Ryan admits.
He crouches down, still holding his cigarette, then sits on the cool tiles. Sandy follows suit a few moments later.
Ryan wonders if Sandy is still looking for something to say-something that would make it all better, that would take away the hurt and the feelings of failure.
It's okay, Sandy. There's nothing to say anyway. No words could make me feel like it's not my fault.
Thanks for trying.
You trying...it helps.
He wishes the words didn't get stuck in his throat.
He wishes he could tells Sandy how much it means to him as the man helps him to his feet, a minute or an hour later, guides him to his room, helps him in his bed, puts a hand on his shoulder.
"Thanks," Ryan says, relieved that he can get that much out.
Sandy's voice is so soft Ryan barely hears it. "You're welcome."
Ryan drifts to sleep, the weight of Sandy's hand on his shoulder.
end
the price we pay
Author : Helen C.
Rating : PG-13
Summary : Twelve things that never happened to Ryan. D'uh.
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. So it's been done before (most notably by the ever awesome brandywine421, who very much inspired this ficlet). What can I say? I just wanted to and brandy was okay with it, and come on, OliverGate means angst…
AN2. Huge thanks to joey51 for beta'ing this. As often happens, I tinkered. All remaining mistakes are mine.
words
"Don't move or I'll-" Oliver says, and Ryan freezes right where he is, mesmerized by the sight of the gun.
At this point, it wouldn't take much to push Oliver over the edge.
Never contradict the lunatic with the gun. That was Trey's rule of survival number 5, right between never fight AJ back and never tell Dawn to calm down when she's high on heroin.
"Oliver," Ryan starts. What he's going to say, he doesn't know himself. Not that it matters.
The gunshot is deafening, drowning out Ryan's words, and his thoughts, and everything.
There's red everywhere, Ryan notices next. Red around Oliver, red on Marissa-who has her hands on her face and her mouth wide open-red on the carpet, and there's some white in the red, and Ryan thinks numbly that he knows what it means, a knowledge he really wishes he didn't possess.
He feels a light touch on his shoulder and quickly brushes it off, leans over, hands on his knees, and throws up, squeezing his eyes shut.
Next thing he knows, there's a hand rubbing his back, and another one supporting him as he heaves and then, suddenly, as if someone had flipped on a switch, Ryan can hear again.
Marissa is screaming-a shrill, loud sound that makes Ryan wince.
There are men talking in the background, shouting orders.
Closer to him, he hears Sandy's warm, familiar, comforting voice, muttering endless reassurances. "It's okay, it's going to be okay, just hang in there, you're going to be fine."
"Sandy?" Ryan croaks, straightening up. He opens his eyes reluctantly, blinking in the harsh glare of the lights. Before he can look around, the hands-Sandy's hands, he realizes now-spin him around until he finds himself face to face with the man.
Sandy doesn't seem nearly as collected as he usually does. Scratch that. He looks downright panicked.
"Ryan?" Sandy gives him a once-over, as if checking for wounds. Ryan wishes he could tell Sandy not to bother, that Oliver is the one who's hurt, but he doesn't think his voice would cooperate.
Marissa is still screaming and Ryan turns in her direction. When his eyes fall on the floor, on Oliver's slumped body surrounded by security men trying to help, Sandy gets in his line of sight. "Don't look," he says both gently and urgently.
Ryan closes his eyes as Sandy pulls him into a hug.
All he can see behind his closed lids is red.
"It's gonna be okay," Sandy says, and Ryan thinks that this time, Sandy might be wrong.
***
The next morning, Ryan wakes up in the Cohens' guest room, feeling drowsy and hung over.
It takes a while for the memories to come back but eventually, his brain starts working again and he remembers coming back last night, remembers Kirsten hugging him and whispering that he was going to be fine, remembers Sandy saying, "You'll ask him in the morning, Seth."
He remembers the doctor, remembers the three pills Sandy handed him.
He remembers the red, and the bits of white in it. The look in Oliver's eyes, like a trapped animal knowing he won't be saved.
He remembers Marissa's screams, and he thinks there was an ambulance at some point, but he doesn't know if it was for Oliver or for her.
A noise at the door makes him look up.
"You awake?" Sandy asks.
"Yeah."
Ryan's voice is scratchy. How long has it been since he last used it? Did he say anything last night, after Oliver shot himself? He doesn't think he did and that probably worried the Cohens like hell.
"How do you feel?"
That has to be the stupidest question Sandy ever asked him, but Ryan supposes it's understandable, considering the circumstances.
"Okay."
And fuck if that's not the biggest lie he ever told anyone. It even beats all the "I fell down the stairs," he said in answer to his teachers' well-meaning but ultimately useless questions about the bruises on his face or his arms.
Sandy takes two steps into the room and stops.
"How's Marissa?" Ryan asks before Sandy can push for a more elaborate answer.
There's a flash of… something in Sandy's eyes and Ryan wishes he could tell what it means. "She was taken to the hospital. They gave her something," Sandy says.
Meaning they pumped her full of valium and let her sleep it off. Pretty much the same thing that happened to Ryan, minus the trip to the hospital.
Ryan wonders what Julie will make of this and how she'll spin it to make it all Ryan's fault. He's sure she'll find a way; Julie could find a way to blame global warming on Ryan if she tried.
Living in this town with all these rich people who look at him like he should be serving them instead of living with them, dating Marissa, is so tiresome sometimes.
"She'll-" Sandy starts. He doesn't finish his thought. Good thing, too, because Ryan will never be convinced that Marissa will deal with this well.
Ryan himself feels more than a little shaken up, and he didn't get Oliver's blood all over him.
There's no way anyone would be fine after that.
***
The Cohens keep Ryan home for three days-the time it takes for him to convince them that he's ready to go back to Harbor and he really shouldn't miss more classes than he already has.
Apparently, witnessing a suicide is enough for Dr Kim and the Board to reconsider his suspension. He's allowed back without further comment and he tries not to be cynical about that. He ignores the sideway glances and the whispers that seem to follow him everywhere he goes. Seth and Summer, Luke and Anna close up ranks around him, glaring at anyone who stares too insistently at him, snapping, "Go mind your own business," whenever someone tries to ask him what happened.
Julie sends Marissa to an in-patient facility, and doesn't allow her to come say goodbye to Ryan. She does, however, allow them one phone-call, probably at Marissa's insistence. Ryan is fairly sure Julie's listening to the discussion, but it doesn't matter. Marissa doesn't make much sense, sobbing uncontrollably, babbling that she's sorry, that she wants to be with Ryan, and can't Ryan help her, please, she'll never doubt him again if he helps her but she needs him, she doesn't want to go, why can't she stay?
Ryan makes shushing noises and mutters "It'll be fine," for ten minutes before Julie orders Marissa to hang up.
"I'm sorry Julie is sending Marissa away," Kirsten says, her tone not totally sincere.
Ryan feels for Marissa; she needs her friends around her. On the other hand, she also needs more help than he could give her, especially after this. And perhaps, just perhaps, if he had listened to Julie in the first place, things wouldn't have gotten quite so bad.
He thought he could help Marissa all by himself and once again, he failed.
Story of his life.
***
Things are pretty shitty, so it doesn't surprise Ryan when Social Services pay the Cohens a visit.
"Ryan witnessed someone his age commit suicide, and there had been some disciplinary issues before that," a bored-looking, middle-aged woman says, sitting down at the kitchen table.
She tells the Cohens to "give her a moment with Ryan," then starts shooting questions at him, asking him how he feels about Oliver's death (bad, thank you), whether or not the Cohens are making him see a counselor about it (no, not yet, but he thinks that there has been some talk about it), is he treated well (yes) and why did he feel the need to break into the files room at school ("I knew the guy was crazy and I needed proof because I couldn't get anyone to believe me," he thinks, but says, "It was an error in judgment, it won't happen again.")
She doesn't look satisfied, but she tells him to step out and send his guardians. Ryan can't help wincing at this formal way of referring to the Cohens. He doesn't think about them as foster parents or guardians; they're just the Cohens-the people who took him in when he had nowhere to go. Kirsten and Sandy.
He waits on the couch for them to come back, his stomach twisted up in knots, wondering if his bad calls and his failure to get Oliver some help will get him sent away.
When the Cohens escort the social worker to the door, she barely spares Ryan a glance. He waits for someone to say something, trying not to fidget.
"She won't recommend that you be sent somewhere else," Sandy says, once the door has closed on the social worker. Ryan breathes out softly. "This time," Sandy adds, looking serious.
Ryan nods, hearing the unspoken warning.
He can't afford to screw up on such a scale anymore. He can't afford to lose the Cohens. He doesn't think he could deal with seeing someone else die because he couldn't get people's attention the right way.
He's not sure how to change, though.
Would you teach me, Sandy? How can I find the right words when I see someone who needs help? What should I have done differently? How could I have saved Oliver's life? How could I have convinced Dawn to get help before she was totally lost?
"Ryan?"
"I know," he says. No more screwing up.
Right.
I can do that.
"How about Thai?" Sandy says, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Ryan nods, thinking he couldn't eat anything right now if his life depended on it.
He allows Sandy to guide him back to the kitchen, allows Sandy's words to soothe the hurt, tries to convince himself that maybe things will be all right in the end.
***
Ryan has nightmares almost every night. He tries not to let it show, tries to pretend that it's no big deal if he's tired in the morning, tries to pretend that he's just having a hard time keeping up in school.
Then, one evening, he falls asleep studying for his chemistry test and he wakes up with a scream stuck in his throat and Kirsten's hand on his arm.
The next day, she has Rosa set up the guest room for Ryan and orders him to bring his things in. "It's high time you lived inside anyway," she says when he tries to say he doesn't mind the pool house, that it's not worth going through all that trouble.
"It's just a few nightmares," he says.
He's not surprised when she doesn't buy his attempt at downplaying the problem. It has taken him a while, but he's starting to realize that the Cohens tend to care about things like that.
Kirsten seems to have a radar that allows her to know when Ryan has trouble sleeping; every time he wakes up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night, she appears in the doorway, takes him to the kitchen and makes hot chocolate for them both, or just hands him a glass of water.
She doesn't ask him to talk, she doesn't say much herself, but to Ryan's surprise, the nightmares start dwindling anyway.
***
The first time Kirsten orders Italian after Oliver's death, Seth asks for spaghetti.
It's a small detail and it shouldn't matter but while Ryan tries to eat his pizza, his eyes keep being drawn to the red tomato sauce on Seth's plate, and the white pasta in it.
He would have thought that the red would make him sick, but it's the sight of the white intermingled with the red that does it.
He bolts to his feet and rushes to the bathroom, barely noticing that Sandy is following him, and throws up for a long time, his stomach contracting every time he closes his eyes and remembers the red and white.
Sandy stays with him, hands him a glass of water when he's done, brushes his hair back from his sweaty forehead, and says, "So, no more Italian for a while, then?"
Ryan surprises himself by laughing shakily, briefly.
He thinks it's probably the first time that has happened since Oliver died.
"Sorry," he says.
"No problem, kid," Sandy replies.
***
Marissa comes back after two months away, thinner and sadder than before.
She's as beautiful as ever, though. Ryan wishes he could have prevented what happened, wishes he could have protected her-from herself, from Oliver, from him.
She apologizes to Ryan, says that Julie won't allow her to see him anymore, but she can be stealth and they'll-
Ryan cuts her off. Hiding seems like the worst idea ever and while it holds a certain appeal, Ryan knows that nothing good could come out of it.
She looks at him, tears in her eyes.
All he can see now when he looks at her is her face in Oliver's room, covered in blood, her skin white underneath all the red, her mouth open in a scream.
He wonders what she sees when she looks at him-her savior, when he couldn't spare her that? Or just a boy who'll anger her mother and get people to talk about her (someone who'll make people say something other than, "the poor girl witnessed a suicide, can you imagine?")
"I just can't," he says, willing her to understand, knowing that she won't.
He hates himself for doing this to her when she's this vulnerable but he's just not strong enough to shoulder her burdens on top of his own. Not when he couldn't help Oliver, or his mom, or anyone, even himself, ever.
He sees the pain and the need in her eyes, and it frightens him, but he stays firm and eventually, she leaves, head down, hair in her face.
She seems like a pale shadow of the girl he met a few months ago and he tries to squelch his first instinctive thought that it's all his fault.
It's going to take an army of professionals to wade through Marissa's issues, and there was nothing he could have done on his own.
He knows that perfectly well, should have known it long ago.
Whatever his problems with Julie might be, he can't deny that he should have listened to her, instead of blackmailing her to allow Marissa to stay in Newport.
That way, maybe he would have helped her.
Yet another bad call on his part.
Yet another mistake he can't afford to make again.
***
Later that night, Sandy finds standing next to the pool, smoking a cigarette in the dark, not really trying to hide.
"I thought you quit," Sandy says.
Ryan shrugs tiredly. Dealing with Marissa while running on all cylinders would have been hard enough, but on top of that the last three nights have been difficult. Kirsten seems as exhausted as Ryan feels. He supposes that's why Sandy is the one who came this time.
"Ryan, I know you don't want to talk about it," Sandy says.
Not wanting to talk about it is an understatement.
He couldn't make anyone see that Oliver was in deep trouble before he was pointing a gun at them, couldn't find a way to convince him that it wasn't worth using it
What are words good for anyway?
They never change anything. They didn't make Dawn keep him; they didn't make anyone believe Ryan when he tried to warn them.
They sure as hell didn't save Oliver's life.
They don't make anything better now.
Of course, Sandy isn't finished. "But-"
There's a tense silence and Ryan eventually looks at Sandy. "But you're going to talk anyway?"
"There were five other people in that room," he says. "And none of us could find anything to say to prevent that kid from… it's not your fault, Ryan. You tried to open our eyes way before it came to that."
"Not hard enough, or not well enough, apparently," Ryan says. Would you teach me, Sandy? So I don't make the same mistake again?
"You did the best you could," Sandy says. "I'm sorry it didn't work. I wish I could make it better, but you… you tried your best, Ryan. Oliver made his choice, too."
He doesn't say that Ryan has no responsibility in what happened, and Ryan is grateful for that. If only he had been able to communicate. If only he had Seth's gift with words. If only…
"How do you feel?" Sandy asks.
"Tired," Ryan admits.
He crouches down, still holding his cigarette, then sits on the cool tiles. Sandy follows suit a few moments later.
Ryan wonders if Sandy is still looking for something to say-something that would make it all better, that would take away the hurt and the feelings of failure.
It's okay, Sandy. There's nothing to say anyway. No words could make me feel like it's not my fault.
Thanks for trying.
You trying...it helps.
He wishes the words didn't get stuck in his throat.
He wishes he could tells Sandy how much it means to him as the man helps him to his feet, a minute or an hour later, guides him to his room, helps him in his bed, puts a hand on his shoulder.
"Thanks," Ryan says, relieved that he can get that much out.
Sandy's voice is so soft Ryan barely hears it. "You're welcome."
Ryan drifts to sleep, the weight of Sandy's hand on his shoulder.
end
the price we pay