(no subject)

[anne35]

Title: A Twist of Fate
Ratings/Warnings: Angst, minor swearing
Beta: loracj2I did some more tweaking after she looked at it. So if you find any punctuation mistakes they are entirely my fault.
Disclaimers: I own nothing in relation to The O.C. All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Beginning of Season 1, AU, In The Pilot, Kirsten asks Sandy “What if this is all a scam? What if he’s just using you to case the house?” In this story it is the truth, but not by Ryan’s choice. For the purposes of this story Dawn is dead and there never was a Trey.
A/N: Hope you still have the shovel from the last chapter.
Special Thanks: Big hugs to katwoman76and themus_revenge. For different reasons, they both read the next two chapters before I posted, and both of them came up with very valid points that I had missed or not thought of. Hopefully, my changes are to their liking and have made the chapters better.

Twist of Fate: Chapter Thirteen

Ryan was exhausted.

The deep feeling of dread that had plagued him throughout the night was still with him as he awoke from a restless slumber.

He opened his eyes and was surprised to discover that the weather seemed to match his dark mood. The usually bright and sunny southern California sky was slowly filling with grey storm clouds. Ryan couldn’t help but wonder if it was a sign for what lay ahead of him that day.

Due to the gloominess of the morning, he was unable to tell how late he had slept. He rolled over onto his side, checked the time, and let out a loud groan. It was already seven-thirty. He knew he couldn’t hide out in the pool house for much longer. The Cohens were bound to be awake by now. And if last night’s talk with Mr. Cohen was any indication, they would soon be seeking him out. He groaned again and rolled back onto his stomach, burying his face into the pillow.

He had spent the better part of the night worrying about the upcoming talk he and the Cohens were supposed to have this morning. Until late in the evening he had watched the lights in the Cohens’ bedroom, hoping that Mr. Cohen had been exaggerating about keeping such a close eye on him. But he had been true to his word, and the lights had never gone out. Ryan felt that it was only safe to assume that he had also been telling the truth about the guards at the front gate.

For what was possibly the thousandth time, Ryan wondered how he got himself into this mess. He supposed it all started with trying to steal the car. He was still unsure of what exactly had gone wrong. He was always so careful. He vaguely remembered his father complaining of the “Atwood luck”. At the time, he had been too young to understand what his father was talking about, but now the meaning was all too clear. How else could you explain why a cop would pick the exact moment Ryan was jimmying the lock to drive by? Most of the time even the cops shied away from that area of town, especially late at night. He should have tried to run. Instead, he stood there in shock and disbelief and let them arrest him. If only he had tried, maybe he could have gotten away. Then he would have never met Sandy Cohen and became so tangled in Art’s web of lies.

Looking back, he wished he hadn’t made the phone call to Mr. Cohen. If he had been smart, he would have lied to Art and told him Mr. Cohen turned him down. Unfortunately, he was a terrible liar. Art would never have believed him. Although the punishment would have been severe, it would be nothing in comparison to what awaited him now. He got the sinking feeling that Mr.Cohen had already called social services. If that were true, Art was going to be beyond furious. Art hated them. He constantly warned Ryan to never get outsiders involved in his business. If a bunch of do-gooders showed up at the house and started asking questions....Ryan shivered, not wanting to think about the consequences.

He slowly sat up, minding his still aching back and sore muscles. There was no point in putting off the unavoidable any longer. He might as well start getting ready to face Mr. Cohen. In some odd way it would be a relief to get it over with. At least then, he would know exactly how much the Cohens knew about him and Art. And what, if anything, they had already done with that information. He could prepare himself for how much trouble he was going to be in for once he finally returned to Chino.

He was surprised to see a set of clean clothes folded neatly on the wicker chair in front of him. It was the same chair Sandy had sat in the previous evening, so he knew someone, most likely Mrs. Cohen, had come in while he slept. It was further proof of how badly he needed to get out of this place. A mere two days ago, he would have never let his guard down enough to sleep through someone entering his room without his knowing it.

He looked at the neatly folded stack and frowned. He wanted to wear his own clothes. He had never truly felt comfortable wearing Mr. Cohen’s. Maybe if he was in his own stuff, he might feel more at ease when the time came to face them. He could certainly use a little help in that area. The sick feeling in his stomach was growing by the second.

The trouble was, he couldn’t wear his tank top. It showed too many of the bruises and welts on his shoulders, and he couldn’t use the hoodie to cover them. With the coming storm, the air had turned especially warm and humid. The jacket would only lead to more questions he knew he could never answer.

Also, he didn’t want to offend Mrs. Cohen. She had gone to the trouble of finding the clothes for him. So few people had ever been nice to him, he didn’t want to appear ungrateful. He thought for a moment longer. In the end, he opted to go with his clothes, but he wore Mr. Cohen’s shirt on top of his own tank top. He slowly walked to the bathroom, hoping he wouldn’t regret the decision.

Carefully, he stripped off the shirt he had slept in. Checking his back in the mirror, he was relieved to see that although it wasn’t any better, it didn’t appear to be getting any worse. The same was true for his hand. It was sore, but as opposed to his back, it was showing no signs of infection. He picked up the previous day’s pants off the floor and starting rooting through the pockets until he found the bottle of Tylenol. He popped off the top and took another handful of the tablets before showering. On top of all of his other worries, he didn’t need to add a trip to the doctor.

ocococococococococ

Kirsten was exhausted.

She supposed being on the verge of tears half the night would do that to a person. She rubbed her eyes and thought of all the things she had learned about Ryan in the past twelve hours.

When Sandy had first shown her the files, she was shocked to read the reports of Ryan’s vast experience stealing. She knew Sandy had met him in jail because of attempting to steal a car. But after meeting Ryan, and spending time with him, the picture the reports painted of him and the boy in her pool house simply did not match.

Before Sandy urged her to keep reading, she was ashamed to admit that some of her initial distrust for Ryan had returned. Then came the stories of the abuse. She wished she had never read them. After Ryan’s reaction to breaking a glass in the kitchen, it left absolutely no doubt in her mind that he was abused, but to read detailed accounts was another matter. She couldn’t imagine treating a child that way. What kind of man was his step-father? How could he have done that to Ryan? Her breaking point had been when she had discovered that the man had used food as a means of controlling Ryan. For the first time in her life, she honestly believed she could physically harm another human being.

After Sandy had returned from the pool house the night before, and it was obvious that they would not be talking with Ryan that night, the two of them had retired to their bedroom to discuss what was to be done about Ryan. She knew what Sandy wanted. He wanted Ryan to stay with them, but she wasn’t sure.

Agreeing to watch out for him was one thing. Taking him into their home permanently was an entirely different matter. She wanted to help Ryan. She wanted to make sure he was someplace safe. Someplace where people cared cared about him. Just not here...not yet anyway.

He had only entered their lives three days ago, and Kirsten didn’t want to rush into anything. She liked to always weigh her options and think each scenario through.

It had taken weeks of her college roommate’s badgering to finally agree to the blind date with Sandy. Although she had been pleasantly surprised to discover it was the same boy she had met before handing out political pamphlets, it had still taken Sandy another two weeks to convince her to go out again. She had even climbed out a fire escape to avoid him. He proposed four times before she said yes, even though she had known he was the one after that second date.

She wasn’t sure she wanted another child in the house. Being a parent was a huge responsibility. She remembered how she wrestled with the idea of getting pregnant after a year of marriage. Sandy had wanted to start a family right away, but she thought they should wait awhile. She still hadn’t decided when they went away for the weekend and she had forgotten her pills. She always wondered if Sandy had taken matters into his own hands and removed them from her bag, but she had never wanted to know badly enough to question him.

Plus, there was the fact that they lived in Newport. Besides college and the few years before her mother became ill, she had always lived here. She loved it and it was her home, but she wasn’t blind to its faults. She knew the people were far from accepting outsiders. The incident with Marcie in the club yesterday was proof of that.

They wouldn’t be able to hide Ryan’s past forever. Sooner or later someone would find out. They always did. Then what? He had already been through so much in his life, was it fair to him to subject him to the constant snide remarks of Newports’ finest?

And she didn’t even want to think about what her father would say.

Sandy said group homes weren’t permanent. They could give it a couple of months. Have Ryan spend the weekends with them. He would have time to adjust to a more normal lifestyle, and they would all have time to get to know each other better.

She liked Ryan. She already cared a great deal about him. She could even see herself growing to love him, but not yet. It was simply too soon. She just needed a little more time.

It would all work out in the end. She was doing the right thing for everyone involved, especially Ryan. She tried to convince herself that was true as she prepared the second pot of coffee for the morning.

ocococococococococ

Ryan stood just outside the patio doors, studying Kirsten. He was relieved to see that Sandy was nowhere to be seen. Her back was turned, and she didn’t see him watching her. She appeared to be busy making coffee. He watched her for a minute longer. It was a habit he had picked up at a very young age. He could usually tell the mood of the men in the house by his mother’s actions. Kirsten appeared distracted, but not angry, and certainly not afraid. Ryan took that as a good sign and opened the doors.

Kirsten jumped slightly. “Ryan,” she said, startled.

“I’m sorry. I should have knocked. Seth said it was okay if...”

“No, it’s not that. Of course, you can come in any time. You don’t have to wait to be invited. I’m just a little...” She searched for the proper word. “Preoccupied this morning.”

Ryan shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, me too.”

She smiled sympathetically at him.

“Why don’t you sit down?” She handed him a glass of juice. “Do you want something to eat?”

“No thanks. Juice is fine. I’m not very hungry.”

Kirsten frowned, and her thoughts returned to the information in the file in her bedroom . His answer did little to ease her concerns about his health.

Ryan took note of her unhappy expression. He couldn’t afford to get on her bad side this morning. “I’m sorry. I’ll eat something if you want me to.”

“That’s all right, Ryan. I know you’re feeling a bit anxious this morning. You can eat later.” She noticed that he purposefully kept his injured hand under the table, no doubt hoping that she had forgotten about it.

“Let me have a look at your hand. I’ve already got the first aid kit ready.”

“It’s fine, Mrs. Cohen. I checked it out before I took a shower.”

“I’m glad to hear that, but I still want to see it for myself.” She took a hold of his hand. “Well, for one thing, you’re going to need clean bandages. You re-used the ones from yesterday.” She slowly unwrapped his hand and studied the wound. “You were right. It looks like it’s doing fine. I’ll just re-apply the antibiotic cream and wrap it again and you should be good until the next time I pester you about it.”

He tried to smile at her attempted humor, but he didn’t quite make it.

Her heart went out to him. No doubt he was a bundle of nerves. She decided that perhaps Ryan needed a little pre-talk-talk. She knew he trusted her at least a little. Maybe if she let him know he had nothing to fear, he would calm down.

“Listen, Ryan.”

He sat up stiffly in his chair.

“I know you’re a little...apprehensive about us talking this morning. I just want you to know that you have nothing to worry about.” She could see the tension in him rising. “Just hear me out. I know that in your past you’ve had some experiences with men who like to use violence against women and children.” He bristled at the last word. “I’m sorry. I realize that you’re not a child, but I think you know what I mean. I just want to let you know that Sandy is not like that. He’s not like any man you’ve ever met before.” She smiled wistfully. “He’s not like any man I’ve ever met before.” Shaking her head, she returned her concentration to Ryan. “What I’m trying to say is that there are good guys out there. And Sandy, he’s the best of the best.” She studied Ryan’s face, trying to see if any of what she had said seemed to be sinking in. She couldn’t tell. “All I’m saying is that you don’t need to be afraid. I told you last night, we just want to talk to you. That’s it. No one in this house is going to hurt you. Okay?”

Ryan stared at his newly bandaged hand, saying nothing.

Kirsten tried to keep her frustration in check. “All right. I understand that you don’t have a lot of reason to trust us, but you’ll find out soon enough that I’m telling the truth. Come on, Sandy should be out of the shower and dressed by now. Seth’s still sleeping, but we decided it would be best if we talked in our bedroom. There’ll be less chance of interruption in there.”

Just as she stood, the phone rang. She glanced at the number and silently cursed.
“Ryan, I’m so sorry. It’s my father. I have to answer. I’ll only be a minute. Why don’t you go on back to the bedroom? I’ll be right behind you.”

As Ryan walked down the hallway, he could hear Kirsten talking to her father.
“Dad, this isn’t a good time for me....We’re having a bit of a family emergency....No, I’m fine....Seth’s fine, too....If by that “bushy-eyed, bleeding-heart liberal”
you mean Sandy, my husband, then yes, he’s fine too....I really don’t want to get into it right now, Dad... Fine, you have five minutes.”

He slowed his pace. From the sound of things, she wouldn’t be coming any time soon. The closer he got to the bedroom, the more nervous he became. Two days ago, he would have been thrilled at getting a better look at the house, especially the Cohens’ bedroom. But that was then. Now, trying to figure out how to steal from these people was the furthest thing from his mind.

When he first woke up, he had been mainly concerned with Art’s reaction to people asking about their lives. He had wondered about how much the Cohens may already know about his life, and what they were planning on doing about it. They way he saw it at the end of the day he would either be facing Art’s wrath or in a social service office waiting to go to a group home.

He truly hadn’t been all that worried about what Mr. Cohen might do to him, until Mrs. Cohen mentioned it. After all, it was pretty obvious that he was mad at him last night and he hadn’t done anything to him. Ryan could tell he had been close to losing his temper when he had pretended to be asleep. Mr. Cohen had probably spent all night thinking about everything Ryan had done over the past weekend, and was even more angry this morning

Suddenly, Ryan wished that he had just gotten the talk over with the night before. At least Mrs. Cohen would have been right there with him. She’d stopped Mr. Cohen once, and from the way she talked she could do it again. Now, she was on the other side of the house. He wouldn’t have anyone to serve as a buffer. He stood outside the bedroom for just a moment, staring at the door, trying to gather his courage. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

ocococococococococ

Sandy was exhausted.

Between keeping an eye on the pool house and trying to figure out what exactly he was going to say to Ryan this morning, he hadn’t gotten a moment’s sleep the entire night. He should have been in the kitchen fifteen minutes ago, instead of still standing in his closet trying to finish getting dressed.

He kept replaying what he wanted to tell Ryan in his mind. It wasn’t easy....telling a kid that you planned on turning his life upside down, even if it was for his own good.

He was worried about what Ryan’s reaction. He didn’t doubt that Ryan would deny everything. He had done it countless times already. Sandy was prepared for that. He had kept the file from Dave in the bedroom, instead of taking it in his office.

But what would Ryan do when he confronted him with the truth, and had the proof to back it up?

Would he breakdown and confess everything?

Not likely.

Would he lash out at Sandy for digging too deep?

It was a possibility. Ryan was afraid of him, but that might not stop him if he was backed into a corner.

He could try and run.

That was the most likely scenario. Ryan was very good at running from the truth. It wouldn’t be a big step to graduate to running from people.

It was a fine line Sandy was going to have to walk and he knew it. He would have to weigh every word he said to Ryan that morning.

Telling Ryan he would have to go to a group home was going to be the biggest obstacle. That was not going to go over well. Ryan’s life may have been most people’s idea of a living hell, but Sandy doubted he would think much better of living with a bunch of strangers.

Unless the strangers were them.

Sandy had done his best to try and convince Kirsten that they should be the ones to take care of Ryan. From the beginning of the conversation, it was obvious he was fighting a losing battle. He knew his wife too well.

Sometimes it baffled him. She could make business decisions involving millions of dollars in a manner of seconds, but if it was personal, forget it. She would need time. Time that they didn’t have right now.

If only they could put off talking with Ryan for a few more days, she would change her mind. He just knew it. Her capacity to love was amazing. After all, she had put up with him for almost twenty years, and her father for even longer.

He had watched her with Ryan. He had seen how protective she was of him, and how much she cared. If Ryan stayed until the end of the week, she would never let him go.

ocococococococococ

“Mr. Cohen.”

Sandy heard Ryan’s voice coming from outside the bedroom.

“It’s me, Ryan. Mrs. Cohen had a phone call. She told me we were going to um, talk, in here.”

Damn. It had to have been Caleb. She would have never have let anyone else distract her from this morning’s talk. Sandy added it to the list of the reasons why he couldn’t stand the man.

Temporarily taken aback by this new twist, he tried to take a minute to regroup his thoughts. He had planned on her being there during their talk. Just because she wasn’t ready to commit to being Ryan’s guardians, didn’t mean he didn’t want her with him.

So often during their marriage, Sandy would fly off the handle about something. He always let his emotions get in the way. Kirsten was his voice of reason. Their ying-yang personalities always seemed to work best with parenting Seth. He had hoped the same would hold true with this morning’s talk with Ryan.

Sandy knew Ryan trusted Kirsten more than him. That had been become painfully obvious to him in the kitchen last night. He couldn’t get the image of Ryan huddled on the floor out of his mind. It had been Kirsten that had calmed the boy down. It had been Kirsten whom he had first confided in about his home-life. It had been accident, but the fact that Ryan had let his guard down around Kirsten enough to even speak of his past spoke volumes.

Damn, but he needed her there with him. Sandy shook his head. He couldn’t keep Ryan waiting. The kid had to be going out of his mind worrying about what they were going to say to him.

“Ryan, come on in.” Sandy cried out. “I”ll just be a second.”

He grabbed his belt and stepped out of the closet.

Ryan froze. They had lied to him. He shouldn’t have been surprised. He should have known it would eventually to come to this. Everyone he had ever known had lied to him. Why should he have expected anything else? This place, this man, they weren’t any different. He had been an idiot to think that they could be.

He wrapped his arms around his mid-section, and for the second time in two days he backed himself into a corner and waited for the worst.

Sandy wasn’t looking at him when he started talking speaking. “I just want to say I’m sorry about last night, kid. I think I came across as a little too...”He stopped and looked at Ryan standing in the corner. “Harsh,” he finished. He stared at Ryan in confusion. He couldn’t believe what he saw. What could he have possibly done to scare Ryan so badly?

“Ryan? Are you okay? What’s wrong, kid?”

For just a moment, Ryan looked up. The boy’s normally blue eyes were black with fear.
Sandy saw his eyes quickly dart to the belt before dropping his gaze to the floor once again. Sandy looked at his belt and dropped it as if it were on fire.

“Oh, kid, you thought...” Sandy closed his eyes and cursed his luck and his thoughtlessness. “I was just finishing getting dressed. I’ve told you before, I don’t hit, ever, for any reason.” He walked over to Ryan. “Come on. You need to sit down.” He tried to put his arm around the boy’s shoulder, but Ryan recoiled from his touch. “I’m not going to hurt you. If I was, wouldn’t I have done it already?”

Ryan thought for a moment. Experience had taught him that adults did whatever they wanted to him. It never mattered what he did to try and stop them. With his arms still wrapped around his stomach, he took a small step forward.

Sandy took that as a good sign. He put his arm around Ryan. He could feel the tremors that still shook the boy’s body.

Sandy led him to the settee. “Sit down, please.”

Ryan obeyed. He sat hunched over, almost managing to curl himself into a ball. He didn’t look up when Sandy began to speak.

“This is exactly why we need to talk.” Sandy took a seat next to Ryan, hoping that if they were on the same level, he wouldn’t appear as threatening. “This...this needs to stop. You can’t go on like this. I hate to see you afraid all the time. I can help you, if you’ll just give me the chance.”

“I’m fine. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

“Ryan, look at me.” Ryan raised his eyes, but refused to meet Sandy’s. “I know, Ryan. I know everything.”

Sandy could have sworn he heard Ryan snort before saying, “You don’t know anything, Mr. Cohen.”

“Yeah, kid. I do.” Sandy rose and retrieved his briefcase. Sitting back down, he pulled out two files, Ryan’s social services file and the one he had received from Dave the day before. He handed Ryan the social service file first. “This is your file from social services. It documents all the times they were called to your house while your mother was still alive. I know your father beat you, as well as your mother’s countless boyfriends.”

“They never proved a thing.”

“Because you and your mother refused to cooperate, most likely out of fear.”

Ryan gripped the folder tightly, wrinkling its edges.

“Do you want to open it?”

“Why? I already know what’s inside.” His eyes darted back and forth, still refusing to meet Sandy’s. “What’s this got to do with me now?”

“Everything. It’s your past and it’s shaped who you are now. I believe it’s a huge part of the reason you won’t let yourself trust me. Everyone who tried to help you back then,” Sandy tapped the folder, “let you down. I don’t think they meant to, but that doesn’t change matters. You’ve heard nothing but empty promises your whole life. Your mom, the system, they let you down. Someone should have protected you and no one did. That wasn’t right.”

“I still don’t get what this means now. You said yourself it’s the past. Everything in here has to do with when my mom was still alive. Well, now she’s dead, I live with Art, and I’m willing to bet that he’s not mentioned in here.”

“It states that he was married to your mother at the time of her death, but you’re right, other than that, there is no mention of him. However,” Sandy raised the other file in the air. “This one does. Ryan, when I said that I knew everything, I meant it. I hired a private detective to investigate you and Art.”

This got Ryan’s attention. He jerked his head up, finally looking at Sandy. Sandy tried to read his expression. If he had to guess, he supposed it was somewhere between fear and confusion.

“He was able to find out quite a bit of information about the two of you.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“Like what?”

“Like the reason you know so much about purse snatching is because you’re quite the expert yourself. I hear you’re not too shabby at lifting wallets either.”

Just like Sandy thought, Ryan attempted to bolt. In anticipation of the move, Sandy had already placed his hand on the boy’s arm. He gently, but firmly held Ryan in place.

“Hold on there, kid. You’re not going anywhere. Your time of running and hiding from the truth is over.”

This time there was no denying the fear on the boy’s face.

“And just so you know, I found out that Friday night wasn’t your first attempt at stealing a car. From what I understand, Art has a pretty cushy life. You do all the dirty work. You take all the risks while he sits back and reaps the rewards.”

“How? Who?” Ryan stammered. “I mean...nobody would dare rat on Art.”

“Well for one, you have an elderly neighbor who isn’t particularly fond of him.”

“Mrs. Garcia,” Ryan muttered to himself.

“You should also realize that men like Art and his buddies can’t ever really be trusted. They can be and were easily bought. For a price, two of Art’s friends told the detective everything. And Ryan, I do mean everything.”

“What,” Ryan swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “What are you going to do about it? Will I have to go back to Juvie?”

Sandy tried to pat Ryan’s knee in hopes to reassure him, but this time Ryan jumped away before he could make contact.

“No, kid. You don’t need to worry. You’re not in any trouble. I’ll make sure of that. I want you to know that we understand that Art forces you to do all of those things against your will.”

This time it was Sandy who couldn’t quite meet Ryan’s eyes.

“Those friends of Art’s, the ones who told about the stealing, that’s not all they talked about. They mentioned some other things.” Sandy took a deep breath. “About the way he treats you. About the way he...hits you.” Sandy turned to face Ryan once again, but Ryan had turned away, his face red with shame. “It’s not your fault, kid. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve seen Art. You’re just a kid, most grown men wouldn’t stand much of a chance against him. You were helpless. You had to do what he wanted. Ryan, you need to realize that you’re the victim here.”

Helpless? Victim? Who did Mr. Cohen think he was? He’d only met the man four days ago. Ryan didn’t give a damn what those files said. Mr. Cohen was still clueless. He couldn’t possibly understand what his life was really like. Sure, maybe he didn’t or couldn’t stand up to Art. And yes, he was afraid of him. He couldn’t deny that. But Mr. Cohen was making him sound so....pathetic. He didn’t need to feel any worse about himself than he already did. He was leaving and no one was going to stop him.

He jumped up, this time catching Sandy off guard.

“Mr. Cohen, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me this weekend. I really do. But I think it’s time I go back to Chino, back to where I belong.”

“Ryan, haven’t you been listening to me? You’re not going back to Chino. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.”

“No, you need to listen to me. This doesn’t change anything.” He pointed to the files that now lay on the floor. “You don’t even have any real proof. So a couple of Art’s buddies told your detective some stories. I’m guessing he found them in a bar and they were probably drunk at the time. You said yourself you can’t trust guys like them. Who’s to say they didn’t make it all up just to earn a quick buck?”

Sandy stood up and took a step closer toward him, but Ryan backed away, moving closer to the door.

“Come on, kid. You and I both know they were telling the truth.”

“The truth? The only truth I know that is that the one person in this world I can depend on is me. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it my whole life. I don’t need you to save me.”

And with that Ryan stormed out of the room, leaving a stunned Sandy behind, wondering where the conversation had gone so horribly wrong.

tbc