Best Forgotten, Part 32. Or more precisely part of Part 32
It's the end of November, isn't it? That means I'm due to post more of this apparently endless saga. I've had very little time to write, though. (How did we manage to produce so much fic--weekly updates, even daily ones--back when The O.C. was airing? The days must have had more hours--27 at least. That's all I can figure.)
In any case, this is just a snippet. It doesn't deserve to be called a chapter so I won't.
(Insert disclaimers here. You know them.)
Here's Part of Best Forgotten, Part 32
Ryan stared blankly at Sandy. His gaze appeared bruised blue and almost feral, shrouded beneath a film of confusion. He shook his head, choking sounds of panicked denial.
“Hey there, kid,” Sandy said. His voice trembled, suffused with relief and joy. “We’ve been waiting for you. Welcome back.” Beaming, he reached up to stroke Ryan’s forehead, brushing back damp strands of hair, circling carefully around a discolored spot just above his eye.
Instantly Ryan stiffened. “No--” he gasped. “No.” Another word caught in his throat. It emerged, thick and slurred on a serrated breath.
Sandy, listening closely, couldn’t be sure, but the raw syllable sounded like “Trick.”
Or maybe “Quit.”
Either way, anguished desperation raged behind Ryan’s eyes.
It wasn’t the reaction Sandy expected.
Seth didn’t anticipate it either. “Dad?” he stammered. All the excitement drained from his face and he stumbled backwards. His mouth worked as he swallowed. “Why is he acting like that? Doesn’t he know us?”
“Just . . . give him time, son,” Sandy replied. His voice thinned as he spoke, stretching for surety. “Remember what Lucy said? That Ryan would be confused with he first woke up?” Sandy mustered a swift, shaky smile. He nodded quick assurance at Seth before he shifted even closer to the bed, bending down until his forehead touched Ryan’s. Pressing one palm firmly against each ravaged cheek, he stroked the boy’s temples. “Shhh, shhh, kid. It’s all right. Ryan, no, listen to me,” he crooned. “Listen. It’s Sandy. You’re all right, okay? You’re all right.”
“No!” Ryan panted, his chest heaving with each broken word. “Trick. Won’t--”
Sandy’s heart clenched. He felt the boy recoil, as if trying to sink inside the bed, anything to escape his grasp. He glanced down, seeing Ryan’s hands fist. They clawed the sheets, his legs thrashing beneath them as his eyes darted, wide and wild, around the room.
The monitors beeped an alarm, and Seth jumped.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “What’s happening? Should we call someone? Dad?”
Sandy didn’t answer. Instead, he clasped Ryan tighter, forcing the boy’s fearful gaze back to him. “Look at me, Ryan,” he ordered. “Come on, kid. Look at me.” For a few moments, he said nothing else. He just held Ryan still, willing him to settle, riveting his attention with the force of his eyes, clear and tender and honest. They smiled, silently reassuring, until slowly, warily Ryan started to relax. When Sandy spoke again, his tone was low, measured and insistent.
“That’s better,” he said. Without releasing Ryan, Sandy relaxed his grip and leaned back slightly so the boy could see him better. “Now let’s try this again, okay? Look at me, Ryan. It’s Sandy. I’m here. I know you’ve-I know you’ve been through hell. But it’s over now. Trust me, it’s--” Sandy’s voice broke. He shook his head, his lips crimping tightly, before he continued. “It’s over. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. This isn’t a trick, kid. It’s not drugs. You’re not hallucinating, you’re not delirious. It’s me, Sandy. I’m here. Lucy called me and I came. I’m here with you now and I’m going to take you home.”
Sandy stopped and waited. Across the bed Seth opened his mouth, then clamped it closed again. He held his breath and waited too.
A glimmer of light, almost wonder, flickered across Ryan’s face. It seemed to shred the gray shroud dimming his vision, to tame the ferocity and terror lurking there. He licked his lips, his fists opening. “Lu-Lucy . . .?” His voice slid over her name, as if it were one sure thing that he recognized. “Call?”
“That’s right. You asked her to call me, remember? She did, Ryan. I’m here.”
Ryan’s forehead puckered. He frowned quizzically, the expression of a child painstakingly piecing a puzzle together. “Here . . . hospital? Sandy . . .?”
“That’s right, kid. Sandy.” With one hand, Sandy reached up and ruffled Ryan’s matted hair. His smile widened, warm with paternal tenderness. Then he cupped the boy’s cheek again, tapping it playfully. “You could do worse, right?” he teased.
Ryan blinked. Doubt and confusion and, finally, joy chased each other across his face. “Sandy,” he said again. This time the name floated on a long, cleansing breath. Ryan squeezed his eyes shut for an moment. When he opened them again, they flashed, anxiety instantly replaced with relief when they registered Sandy still there, still beaming down at him. With a sigh that dispelled any lingering doubt, Ryan relaxed. The fraught tension in his muscles eased and instinctively, he nestled closer, letting his cheek rest in the curve of Sandy’s palm. “Feel . . . real,” he murmured.
All around Ryan, the monitors, recognizing normal reactions, returned to a dull, unperturbed drone.
Watching in unaccustomed silence, Seth shimmied quietly, thrilled by the change in Ryan’s mood, but Sandy’s brows knit with momentary confusion. He wasn’t sure what the boy meant. Was he saying that he finally believed Sandy was real, realizing at last that his hand was solid, that he wasn’t an illusion?
Or did Ryan mean that he felt real, that after so many days of disorientation and despair, of desperate struggle to maintain his identity, he felt like himself again?
It didn’t matter. Either way the kid was right.
Sandy grinned. “Damn right, kid,” he said fervently.
“Me too!” Seth blurted. Unable to wait any longer, he bounced on his toes and launched himself forward, waving an arm to catch Ryan’s attention. His dimples danced, and his untidy curls bobbed impatiently. “Over here, bro!” he cried. “Also real!”
Ryan peered past the frantic hand to locate his friend’s flushed, glowing face. His eyes narrowed, puzzled, then widened into mingled surprise and uncertainty. “Seth?” he ventured. He seemed to struggle with the word, as if it stuck thick on his tongue, but Seth didn’t notice.
“Got it on the first try, dude!” Seth crowed. “See, Dad? Take that! Told you I’m unforgettable!--Damn, Ryan, it’s good to see you again.” Unable to maneuver a hug, Seth settled for plopping onto the edge of the bed, making a loose fist and bopping his knuckles against Ryan’s arm.
Watching a smile flicker faintly in the corners of Ryan’s mouth, Sandy chuckled indulgently. At the same time, though, he lifted a restraining hand. “Slow down, son,” he urged, but Seth continued, oblivious.
“So . . . really, really, really sorry it took us so long to get here, Ryan. It’s not like we haven’t been trying-I mean, seriously, none of us ever believed you just took off. We’ve been searching for you all along.” Babbling happily, Seth stretched out his legs, tapping the toes of his sneakers together as he made himself comfortable on the bed. “But it hasn’t been easy. First we had to sort out all these false leads and track you to Mexico. But when we finally got here? Cozumel?” Seth scowled disparagingly. “Not as easy to navigate as you would expect, considering the size of the place. And we actually had to come to this damn clinic twice. The first time--”
“Seth!” Sandy inclined his head, indicating Ryan’s wan face, his bewildered expression. He lowered his voice, continuing softly. “Take a breath, all right? Give Ryan a chance to process everything.”
“Oh,” Seth paused, abashed. “Oh, okay, epic story. Got it. Plenty of time for the details about Lucy, saboteur, Sandy Cohen, forger, and The Kirsten, prizefighter, when we get home.” He nudged Ryan’s sheet-covered leg with his foot. “The point is, we made it and we’re all here now, right? The Cohen plus one clan, reunited. You and me and Dad and Mom . . . Mom?’ Seth came to a stunned, abrupt stop. He peered across the room, meeting his father’s equally startled gaze. For the first time since Ryan eyes opened, their attention shifted from him and they became aware of Kirsten’s absence.
“She's gone. Why would she leave, Dad?” Seth demanded. “She was here a minute ago. Really, Ryan-Mom was right here with us when you started to wake up.”
Sandy’s brow furrowed. “I think . . .” he recalled hesitantly, “I’m not sure-did she say something about Lucy?”
Concerned, both Seth and Sandy glanced towards the door, as if Kirsten might suddenly materialize. They didn’t see Ryan pale, stiffening, or hear the lost sound of his harsh, broken breath.
TBC
In any case, this is just a snippet. It doesn't deserve to be called a chapter so I won't.
(Insert disclaimers here. You know them.)
Here's Part of Best Forgotten, Part 32
Ryan stared blankly at Sandy. His gaze appeared bruised blue and almost feral, shrouded beneath a film of confusion. He shook his head, choking sounds of panicked denial.
“Hey there, kid,” Sandy said. His voice trembled, suffused with relief and joy. “We’ve been waiting for you. Welcome back.” Beaming, he reached up to stroke Ryan’s forehead, brushing back damp strands of hair, circling carefully around a discolored spot just above his eye.
Instantly Ryan stiffened. “No--” he gasped. “No.” Another word caught in his throat. It emerged, thick and slurred on a serrated breath.
Sandy, listening closely, couldn’t be sure, but the raw syllable sounded like “Trick.”
Or maybe “Quit.”
Either way, anguished desperation raged behind Ryan’s eyes.
It wasn’t the reaction Sandy expected.
Seth didn’t anticipate it either. “Dad?” he stammered. All the excitement drained from his face and he stumbled backwards. His mouth worked as he swallowed. “Why is he acting like that? Doesn’t he know us?”
“Just . . . give him time, son,” Sandy replied. His voice thinned as he spoke, stretching for surety. “Remember what Lucy said? That Ryan would be confused with he first woke up?” Sandy mustered a swift, shaky smile. He nodded quick assurance at Seth before he shifted even closer to the bed, bending down until his forehead touched Ryan’s. Pressing one palm firmly against each ravaged cheek, he stroked the boy’s temples. “Shhh, shhh, kid. It’s all right. Ryan, no, listen to me,” he crooned. “Listen. It’s Sandy. You’re all right, okay? You’re all right.”
“No!” Ryan panted, his chest heaving with each broken word. “Trick. Won’t--”
Sandy’s heart clenched. He felt the boy recoil, as if trying to sink inside the bed, anything to escape his grasp. He glanced down, seeing Ryan’s hands fist. They clawed the sheets, his legs thrashing beneath them as his eyes darted, wide and wild, around the room.
The monitors beeped an alarm, and Seth jumped.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “What’s happening? Should we call someone? Dad?”
Sandy didn’t answer. Instead, he clasped Ryan tighter, forcing the boy’s fearful gaze back to him. “Look at me, Ryan,” he ordered. “Come on, kid. Look at me.” For a few moments, he said nothing else. He just held Ryan still, willing him to settle, riveting his attention with the force of his eyes, clear and tender and honest. They smiled, silently reassuring, until slowly, warily Ryan started to relax. When Sandy spoke again, his tone was low, measured and insistent.
“That’s better,” he said. Without releasing Ryan, Sandy relaxed his grip and leaned back slightly so the boy could see him better. “Now let’s try this again, okay? Look at me, Ryan. It’s Sandy. I’m here. I know you’ve-I know you’ve been through hell. But it’s over now. Trust me, it’s--” Sandy’s voice broke. He shook his head, his lips crimping tightly, before he continued. “It’s over. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. This isn’t a trick, kid. It’s not drugs. You’re not hallucinating, you’re not delirious. It’s me, Sandy. I’m here. Lucy called me and I came. I’m here with you now and I’m going to take you home.”
Sandy stopped and waited. Across the bed Seth opened his mouth, then clamped it closed again. He held his breath and waited too.
A glimmer of light, almost wonder, flickered across Ryan’s face. It seemed to shred the gray shroud dimming his vision, to tame the ferocity and terror lurking there. He licked his lips, his fists opening. “Lu-Lucy . . .?” His voice slid over her name, as if it were one sure thing that he recognized. “Call?”
“That’s right. You asked her to call me, remember? She did, Ryan. I’m here.”
Ryan’s forehead puckered. He frowned quizzically, the expression of a child painstakingly piecing a puzzle together. “Here . . . hospital? Sandy . . .?”
“That’s right, kid. Sandy.” With one hand, Sandy reached up and ruffled Ryan’s matted hair. His smile widened, warm with paternal tenderness. Then he cupped the boy’s cheek again, tapping it playfully. “You could do worse, right?” he teased.
Ryan blinked. Doubt and confusion and, finally, joy chased each other across his face. “Sandy,” he said again. This time the name floated on a long, cleansing breath. Ryan squeezed his eyes shut for an moment. When he opened them again, they flashed, anxiety instantly replaced with relief when they registered Sandy still there, still beaming down at him. With a sigh that dispelled any lingering doubt, Ryan relaxed. The fraught tension in his muscles eased and instinctively, he nestled closer, letting his cheek rest in the curve of Sandy’s palm. “Feel . . . real,” he murmured.
All around Ryan, the monitors, recognizing normal reactions, returned to a dull, unperturbed drone.
Watching in unaccustomed silence, Seth shimmied quietly, thrilled by the change in Ryan’s mood, but Sandy’s brows knit with momentary confusion. He wasn’t sure what the boy meant. Was he saying that he finally believed Sandy was real, realizing at last that his hand was solid, that he wasn’t an illusion?
Or did Ryan mean that he felt real, that after so many days of disorientation and despair, of desperate struggle to maintain his identity, he felt like himself again?
It didn’t matter. Either way the kid was right.
Sandy grinned. “Damn right, kid,” he said fervently.
“Me too!” Seth blurted. Unable to wait any longer, he bounced on his toes and launched himself forward, waving an arm to catch Ryan’s attention. His dimples danced, and his untidy curls bobbed impatiently. “Over here, bro!” he cried. “Also real!”
Ryan peered past the frantic hand to locate his friend’s flushed, glowing face. His eyes narrowed, puzzled, then widened into mingled surprise and uncertainty. “Seth?” he ventured. He seemed to struggle with the word, as if it stuck thick on his tongue, but Seth didn’t notice.
“Got it on the first try, dude!” Seth crowed. “See, Dad? Take that! Told you I’m unforgettable!--Damn, Ryan, it’s good to see you again.” Unable to maneuver a hug, Seth settled for plopping onto the edge of the bed, making a loose fist and bopping his knuckles against Ryan’s arm.
Watching a smile flicker faintly in the corners of Ryan’s mouth, Sandy chuckled indulgently. At the same time, though, he lifted a restraining hand. “Slow down, son,” he urged, but Seth continued, oblivious.
“So . . . really, really, really sorry it took us so long to get here, Ryan. It’s not like we haven’t been trying-I mean, seriously, none of us ever believed you just took off. We’ve been searching for you all along.” Babbling happily, Seth stretched out his legs, tapping the toes of his sneakers together as he made himself comfortable on the bed. “But it hasn’t been easy. First we had to sort out all these false leads and track you to Mexico. But when we finally got here? Cozumel?” Seth scowled disparagingly. “Not as easy to navigate as you would expect, considering the size of the place. And we actually had to come to this damn clinic twice. The first time--”
“Seth!” Sandy inclined his head, indicating Ryan’s wan face, his bewildered expression. He lowered his voice, continuing softly. “Take a breath, all right? Give Ryan a chance to process everything.”
“Oh,” Seth paused, abashed. “Oh, okay, epic story. Got it. Plenty of time for the details about Lucy, saboteur, Sandy Cohen, forger, and The Kirsten, prizefighter, when we get home.” He nudged Ryan’s sheet-covered leg with his foot. “The point is, we made it and we’re all here now, right? The Cohen plus one clan, reunited. You and me and Dad and Mom . . . Mom?’ Seth came to a stunned, abrupt stop. He peered across the room, meeting his father’s equally startled gaze. For the first time since Ryan eyes opened, their attention shifted from him and they became aware of Kirsten’s absence.
“She's gone. Why would she leave, Dad?” Seth demanded. “She was here a minute ago. Really, Ryan-Mom was right here with us when you started to wake up.”
Sandy’s brow furrowed. “I think . . .” he recalled hesitantly, “I’m not sure-did she say something about Lucy?”
Concerned, both Seth and Sandy glanced towards the door, as if Kirsten might suddenly materialize. They didn’t see Ryan pale, stiffening, or hear the lost sound of his harsh, broken breath.
TBC