OC Fic
Title: The Hart Break
Chapter 8
Author: ChaseII
Story Rating: PG-13(?) (minor language)
Story is AU
Disclaimer: The OC Universe, with all its assorted characters, belongs to Josh Schwartz, et. al. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended, nor is any money being made.
(Note: The Harts belong to me.)
A/N: Many thanks to Beachtree, ever a delightful, generous, and insightful beta. However, please know all mistakes are mine, mine, mine... I appreciate those of you who are still reading -- many thanks for your interest and your patience!
A/N2: Like most of us, I love our fanfic Cohens. However, as for the canon Cohens, there are times we may have to disagree.
Megan Hart skims through a few of her San Francisco and Berkeley guidebooks and AAA materials, trying to imagine herself living in Berkeley. The prospect seems… maybe the best word is ‘surreal’.
Sometimes she still pinches herself to ensure that she’s not just dreaming like so many times before. That she won’t wake up a continent away.
But this time it’s not a dream… California is real, Sam’s job opportunity is real, and so, thank God, is Ryan.
He’s actually here, sitting next to her, driving their Prius. She glances across at the teenager, wrapping herself in a contented hug. ‘Real’ is good, even if it comes with issues.
Ryan certainly isn’t well, emotionally. That’s painfully obvious.
He’s hurting. He’s unsettled. He’s unsure.
But underneath the pain, he’s still their Ryan. That’s obvious, too - which is alternately wonderful and heartrending.
Less than an hour ago, over lunch, he mentioned their letters again, telling them once more how much the letters mean to him; how badly he feels that he wrote none of his own. Predictably, he listened quietly while they assured him that was absolutely okay, but his muted response and accompanying body language were rife with contrition and self-censure.
Small wonder, Megan thinks, her heart growing heavier as she reflects on how little Ryan’s sense of self-worth seems to have changed over the last few years. Same Ryan, same built-in guilt.
He’s still a product of all the years with Dawn and her string of violent, alcoholic and/or drug-dependant men. Add Trey’s jumbled mix of sporadic camaraderie, ever-growing anger, and jealous deconstruction to the mix, and it’s no wonder those years took their toll on a forming ego.
Nothing much seems to have changed in the last three years. It’s clear Ryan still doubts himself… still seems to think he must earn love, rather than having it given to him freely, without strings or built-in conditions.
She’s not sure what he’s experienced with the Cohens, but as for Sam and her? Nothing could be further from the truth.
Maybe things can change for him in Berkeley, she thinks. Maybe there they can show him how much they believe in him, without Dawn or Trey or other negative influences working against them. Maybe there Ryan can finally learn to believe in himself.
She stashes the guidebooks and maps into the AAA bag by her feet, and then settles back into her seat. The radio is on, tuned into an ‘oldies’ station. She expects the music isn’t entirely a concession to them - the teenager actually likes some of the old songs she and Sam enjoy listening to. Or at least he used to, back in Chino…
Ryan’s fingers tap the steering wheel lightly in time with The Eagles’ “One of these Nights”. She can hear paper ruffle in the backseat as Sam continues to flip through his files in preparation for tomorrow morning’s interviews.
She closes her eyes, savoring this quiet time with the two people she considers ‘family’. She’s not sure how many miles they’ve traveled before Ryan breaks their soft silence.
“Kirsten talked to me about the pool house,” he says.
Megan blinks her eyes open, immediately noting his tensed shoulders and determined focus on the road ahead of them.
She sits up straighter in her seat. “Oh, she did?”
“Yeah. She said she was sorry she and Sandy never talked to me about it.”
“Mmmm,” she nods, trying to stay noncommittal.
He glances over at her, drawing in a breath before he explains, “I just thought you’d like to know. That we talked, I mean.”
“I’d like to know?” she repeats, buying time while she tries to figure out what he needs from her - how she should react.
This time he keeps his focus on the highway. His words sound like they are forced… like he doesn’t really want to say them.
“I thought you’d like to know, because you were upset when you learned they have me out there... that I stay out there, in the pool house.”
Megan bites her lip. Hard.
“I mean, you can’t blame them for putting me out there when I first showed up. I’d just been arrested with Trey. It’s not like they had any reason to think they could trust me.”
He ducks his head as he speaks those words, keeping it just high enough to see the road through feathered eyelashes.
Megan hurts for him, trying to imagine how embarrassed and vulnerable he must have been that day. She can’t, no matter how hard she tries, conjure up an image of Ryan that would appear threatening in that wretched situation. The Ryan she knows would be self-chastising, polite, respectful, deferential…
What Ryan did the Cohens see?
There are so many questions she wants to ask, but she holds back, letting him steer the conversation where he wants to take it.
“The thing is, out there? In the pool house? It was actually good, then. Once… with how everyone was then, it was the best place for me,” he continues, glancing across at her, his eyes beseeching. “It felt… I don’t know… out of everyone’s way. Safer, maybe.”
“Safer,” she repeats, and waits to see if he’s going to say something more. It’s hard to keep from asking questions - there are so many things she wants to know.
He stares at the road, but speaks again. “The thing is, now? I really like having the pool house as my room. It gives me some privacy, you know? I want to stay out there. It … I guess the best way I can explain it is that the pool house suits me.”
She lowers her lashes over her eyes, tilting her head as she watches him. “I’m sure it does,” she acknowledges. She believes him - he’s a teenage boy. What teenage boy wouldn’t want a room like that?
It’s just… she’d hoped for something else - something more inclusive for this kid who’s always been an outsider, even in his childhood home. She simply can’t wrap her head around the idea that isolation is right for him - that exclusion from the Cohen’s home doesn’t sting on some of the his well-hidden levels.
Ryan reads nonverbals far too well for any sub-context of physical separation to be lost on him.
“Seth even offered to trade me once, but I shot him down,” Ryan adds, buttressing his position.
“I hear you,” she says, deciding against offering any commentary. It’s not the same, though. Seth was never banished to the pool house, nor was he left out there without option to move inside. It makes a difference - one she’s sure Ryan understands as well as she does.
Ryan looks across at her, his eyes searching her face. He presses his lips together, his fingers tightening on the wheel as he returns his attention to the highway. He says nothing.
Megan turns to Sam, who has stopped reading and is looking pointedly back at her. She knows what he’s thinking. She can read it on his face. As much as she hates to admit it, she also knows he’s right.
She takes a deep breath before she speaks to Ryan once more. “I… the truth is, I might have over-reacted a little the other night. I’m sorry, Ryan - all I can say is that when it comes to you I’m probably feeling a little overprotective right now.”
She can see his eyebrows rise and lower, but the corners of his mouth raise slightly, too.
“Nothing new there,” he says, giving her a sideways look before adding, “You know my mom used to get mad at you sometimes because of that.”
Megan nods. “I know.”
She remembers all the times Dawn kept Ryan away from them in retaliation.
She knows Dawn ‘got mad’ at Ryan, too. She witnessed the bruises - both physical and psychological.
They all still wear some scars.
Ryan chews at his lower lip before speaking. “But the thing is, the Cohens aren’t like my mom.”
“And you don’t need protection from them,” she says, finishing what she’s certain he won’t say.
“Yeah.” He lets out a deep breath, and his shoulders relax a little.
When she doesn’t say anything else right away, he surprises her by filling in the silence.
“The difference… well, one big difference now is… I mean, the whole thing about the pool house? Kirsten didn’t get upset with you, or me, or anyone, except maybe herself. After you guys were at the Cohens’ for dinner, and the issue about me staying out there came up, she became… I don’t know… maybe concerned, I guess.”
“Concerned,” Megan echoes, nodding again.
How concerned should she be that he’s doing so much circling? Is he worried about her opinion, or about Kirsten’s feelings?
Ryan turns his head toward her for a moment, his eyes searching her face. He must be okay with what he sees because he elaborates, “Yeah. Like I said, she wanted to apologize. She said they just always assumed I liked living in the pool house, but that they should have asked. Should have given me a choice between staying out there or moving inside their house.”
He hitches his shoulders slightly. “Not that she needed to, or anything, or that I’ve ever wanted any kind of apology, but still, it was really thoughtful of her. You know, to say they should’ve asked me what I wanted.”
Megan bites at her lips again. It helps her hold her tongue. How is it that his expectations are still so low?
He adds, “I thought talking with me about all that stuff was really… I don’t know… I guess maybe considerate? Thoughtful? Nice? It’s just… I mean, that’s… that’s how she is with me. Kirsten’s nice.”
“She should be.” The words slip out before she can stop them, but she’s not going to take them back.
Because, seriously, ‘nice’? Ryan certainly deserves ‘nice’.
And what about warm? Loving? Kind? Generous? Protective? Ryan deserves those treatments, too.
He turns to her, his eyes tinged with traces of self-doubt.
The uncertainty reflected there breaks her heart.
She searches for words to erase that look, saying what she hopes is true.
“Ryan, I’m sure Kirsten sees in you what Sam and I have seen for years. You’re one amazing young man.”
He frowns, ducking his head. “I don’t know about that…”
“I do,” she says adamantly, hoping his words refer to her assessment of him, rather than Kirsten’s.
She sees him glance sideways at her, and hears him exhale softly.
“You’re kinda’ biased,” he argues, but the corners of his lips turn up a bit as he says it.
“Doesn’t mean I’m not right,” she counters, folding her arms across her chest and raising her eyebrows.
He says nothing, but she sees his little half-smile skitter across his face.
“Ace?” Sam’s voice startles her. It must have startled Ryan, too, because she sees his head whip up to check the rearview mirror.
“Yeah?” he answers automatically, his eyes on Sam’s reflection.
Sam’s tone is easy, entering the conversation as though he’s never left it. “While we’re on the subject of the pool house, I’d like to check the specs - make sure it’s up to code. All that glass is esthetically pleasing, but I’d like to get comfortable that it’s not an earthquake hazard. Particularly since it’s being used for living space, rather than what I suspect was its intended purpose.”
“Honey,” Megan breaks in, noting the tension creeping back into Ryan’s shoulders. “Maybe we could talk about this later?”
Ryan shakes her off, catching Sam’s eyes once more through the rearview mirror. “Wouldn’t it have had to pass a building inspection?”
Sam nods. “Yes, but the construction standards could have been different, depending on the original anticipated use of the building. Normally, a pool house is intended for changing out of wet swimwear, or for light refreshments or maybe some ping-pong or pool - not as living space. But the thing is, you’re sleeping in that building. Whole different thing, Ryan.”
“Uh… it’s just... I mean, Kirsten’s company built it…”
Sam catches Megan’s eyes before he speaks again. “I know, Ace. But I can be very diplomatic, I promise.”
Ryan’s brows furrow. “What if there’s a problem?”
Sam’s voice is soothing. “Let’s cross that bridge if we come to it, okay? This much I promise - if my review turns up any issues, we’ll figure out the best way to address them. We’ll find a solution that works for you and for the Cohens.”
Ryan sucks his lips between his teeth.
Sam sighs. “What do you say?”
“I don’t want them to have to spend more money on me.”
Sam checks in swiftly with Megan, their eyes locking for an instant.
He then leans forward, placing a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “I understand, but please give me this one, Ace. I need to know you’re safe.”
Ryan blinks, one side of his mouth drawing back as he digests Sam’s request.
“Diplomatic, hmmm?” Ryan asks softly.
“Promise,” Sam nods.
“And we’ll move on?”
“Absolutely. We focus our attention on Berkeley. Deal?”
The teenager’s expression is thoughtful as he rubs one thumb against the steering wheel.
“Deal,” he says, glancing into the mirror.
Sam nods again, squeezing Ryan’s shoulder lightly while offering the teenager a grateful and approving smile. He leans back in his seat. “Thanks, Ace.”
Megan turns to face Sam. “Thank you,” she mouths silently.
Sam motions dismissively toward his folders, then points at the driver’s seat. He mouths back, “Job one.”
Turning around, she checks in on Ryan. He’s focused on the road again, his slouched posture more relaxed than it’s been since they started talking about the pool house. It’s like he’s checked out of that conversation, okay with where they left it.
Fine. For now.
She turns her attention to the surrounding scenery, surprised to realize they’re almost to San Francisco. Barring any bad luck, in forty-five minutes or so they could be in the heart of the bay city.
Mega cool.
She digs into the AAA bag beside her feet, feeling her inner traveler’s heart awaken, tiny waves of anticipation building inside. She fishes out her Insight City Guide and waves it in the air.
“So, what do you guys think? Maybe we could go to the Conservatory of Flowers in Golden Gate Park? Just for a little while, before we go on to the house? Please?” she begs.
Ryan sits up, snorts, and checks the rearview mirror for Sam’s reaction.
Sam chuckles. “Okay, Ace. You win.”
“What are you two talking about?” Megan asks, looking back and forth at the pair.
“Ryan guessed you’d want to go to Golden Gate Park - I said you’d want to ride the cable cars. It was never a matter of ‘if’ you’d want to play tourist…”
Ryan chimes in, “Yeah, just which thing you’d want to do first.”
“Busted,” she laughs.
“Oh, yeah,” the guys say in unison, and then they’re all laughing together.
In that moment, it’s like all the lost years and disappointments and pitfalls disappear.
It’s just the three of them together, and it feels real and right and… possible.
When Ryan and Sam return their focus to driving and review, Megan finds herself thinking about living in Berkeley once more.
The life she dreams of isn’t going to be easy. She knows that. There are landmines everywhere they turn… some she already knows about, and new ones they’re only beginning to uncover.
Still, if life in Berkeley means having more times like this? Shared with Sam and Ryan?
It’s where she wants to be.