In The Beginning 4
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 : Written for finlee, who wanted, "Ryan helps an old lady - who turns out to be the most feared woman in Newport Beach (but is actually very nice-she just likes people to be uncomfortable around her)."
Many thanks to cheekymice for her help, and to joey51 for beta'ing this.
Chapter Four
When Ryan woke up, Sandy was sitting next to the bed, reading the newspaper and humming softly under his breath. There was an empty cup of coffee on the nightstand and its lingering smell made Ryan's stomach churn.
He took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn't get sick, then leaned on his elbow to try to sit up. Sandy looked up at the movement. "Hey!" he said, dropping his newspaper and helping Ryan into a sitting position.
"Hey," Ryan said softly, once he was settled. He didn't feel nauseous anymore, but a headache was building up again, which was really growing tiresome beyond words.
Sandy considered Ryan for a moment. "I'd ask how you feel, but…"
Ryan sighed. "Yeah."
"Need anything?" Sandy asked.
Ryan closed his eyes, wondering if there was any chance the headache would go away on its own, before deciding that it probably wouldn't. He shrugged. "Tylenol? Morphine? Or possibly a gun."
Sandy patted his shoulder awkwardly. "Let's try Tylenol first."
"Yeah."
Sandy called a nurse, who told Sandy to step out please and gave Ryan "a mild painkiller."
Why 'mild?' Ryan almost asked. Why not go immediately for the heavy-duty stuff, so that he could sleep the day away, which would bring him that much closer to his release?
He had learned long ago not to antagonize nurses though-Trey had once told him that nurses had the power to make his life very embarrassing and would use it if he didn't behave. Ryan had laughed and shrugged it off. Then, he had had to spend a night in the hospital, and he had been pissy and rude with the staff, and what had happened as a consequence was a memory he had worked hard to repress, and that he would never, ever share with anyone. It had been years and the words "sponge bath" still made him blush. Fuck, but that trainee nurse had sure been clumsy…
He had learned his lesson though. He was always very polite and cooperative, now. He just didn't have any way to fight these women back on their own turf.
And clearly, he needed more sleep if he was starting to think about a stay in the hospital as a street war.
"Call me if you need something stronger," the nurse advised as she got out.
"Believe me, I will," Ryan replied, his earnest tone making her chuckle.
Sandy came back, smiling widely. "I think the nurses here like you." He sat down, nodding to himself. "I think I heard two of them discussing how cute you are."
Cute? Ryan thought, trying not to feel insulted. Puppies were cute. He wasn't. "Great," he said, trying not to sound too sarcastic. "But hopefully, I'm not going to stay here long enough for them to really get to know me, so…" Then it occurred to him that no one had told him yet how long he was going to have to stay here-just that it wouldn't be too long, but what did that mean exactly? "I'm not, am I?" he asked.
Sandy chuckled. "Would it be so bad? Some of them are quite hot."
Ryan groaned. "That's just… wrong." He shot a look at Sandy, and frowned. "And you didn't answer my question. Did they tell you?"
Sandy smiled tiredly. "According to the doctor, you should be allowed to come home tomorrow."
Which meant at least another twenty-four hours, possibly more if Sandy meant "Tomorrow afternoon." Ryan knew he'd just have to deal with it, but he still asked, just in case, "Why not today? I feel fine."
"You took a nasty blow to the head," Sandy replied, looking serious all of a sudden. "You lost consciousness."
"Not for long," Ryan argued.
"Long enough." Sandy sighed and ran a hand through his hair, making him appear even more disheveled than usual. "Ryan, it's just one more day. And everyone will feel better if the doctors can keep an eye on you for a while, okay?"
Ryan thought about pointing out that he had taken blows to the head and lost consciousness before and that he had survived without even going to a hospital, but that would probably lead to some embarrassing questions.
He thought about pointing out that one night in a hospital cost a small fortune, but he had learned within three days with the Cohens that their answer to this kind of consideration was, "Don't worry about that; money is supposed to be spent."
He thought about pointing out that he hated being stuck in a hospital, but that probably wouldn't sway Sandy.
Ryan sighed, recognizing he had lost the battle. "Fine."
He must have looked defeated, and Sandy patted his shoulder again, saying, "I have something that might cheer you up."
Ryan raised an eyebrow as Sandy got up and went to a small cupboard next to the door, coming back with a bag. "Clothes, my friend," Sandy announced.
Ryan broke into a huge smile. "Great," he said, resisting the absurd urge to jump out of bed, grab the bag and make a run for the bathroom with it. He knew from experience that moving too fast when recovering from a concussion was not a good idea.
Sandy had a small laugh. "I knew you'd like it. Kirsten packed them, so I think you should have everything you need."
"Thanks," Ryan said, carefully throwing back the covers and getting to his feet. His legs were shaky and Sandy took his arm to help him to stand.
"Want me to call one of those nice nurses to help you with that?" he asked.
"No!" Ryan said, quickly. He stood still for a moment, then shook off Sandy's arm when he felt like he could walk without falling. Taking the bag, he was about to make his way to the bathroom when something occurred to him. "Er, Sandy?"
"Yes?"
Sandy was standing there, looking amused, making it obvious that he already knew exactly what Ryan was going to say.
Wonderful.
Ryan shot Sandy a dire look, which seemed to amuse him even more.
"These gowns don't exactly close in the back," Ryan said at last.
"I know," Sandy replied, smirking.
Ryan glared at him for a while and Sandy eventually gave up, chuckling. "Okay, kid, I'm turning my back, and I won't peek."
"I hope so, 'cause that would be creepy," Ryan said.
Sandy snorted and went to the window, turning his back to the room.
Ryan walked carefully to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He shot a longing look to the shower. He really wanted to wash up, but he didn't think he was going to be able to stay awake long enough for that-that painkiller may have been mild, but it was still enough to make him feel loopy. Next time, he thought.
He quickly put on some sweat pants and a tee-shirt, and studied his reflection in the mirror. He grimaced slightly at the bruise on his jaw, and at the one around his left eye. He had been aware that some areas of his face were a little tender, but until now, he had been too bothered by the headaches, the nausea and Mrs. Thyls' visit to really be concerned about that.
Now that he could see them, though, he had to admit that the bruises looked nasty. And he had no recollection of getting them, which was strange.
He was used to bruises, probably too used to them, really, but he usually vividly recalled how he had ended up with them.
He gently prodded the back of his skull, where he knew it had hit the sidewalk, and grimaced at the bump he felt there, painful even under his light touch.
There was a brief knock just as Ryan was reaching for the door handle.
"You okay, kid?" Sandy asked.
Ryan opened the door and smiled weakly. "Yeah," he said.
"Well, you look like you should lie down now."
Ryan didn't protest. He hadn't expected that such a simple thing as changing clothes would tire him out, but there it was.
He let Sandy help him back into the bed and curled up on his side as Sandy took his seat again.
There was a short silence and Sandy smiled nervously, his fingers tapping lightly on his leg.
Ryan started to wonder if he was expected to say something. He usually felt comfortable around Sandy, but this morning, there was something slightly off with the man.
He was a little too cheerful, a little too… perky, and Ryan didn't know what to make of that.
Was there a problem? Something so bad that Sandy didn't want to talk about it with Ryan?
"Sandy?"
The fingers ceased their tapping. "Yeah?"
"Is everything okay?"
"Sure," Sandy said.
With a pang of guilt, Ryan realized that he hadn't even asked about Seth yet. Perhaps that was what Sandy was nervous about. "Is Seth all right?"
"Yeah. Well, he's a little grumpy… He's driving Kirsten insane. He can be… challenging when he's not feeling well." He paused before adding, "Kirsten wanted to come back, you know? I know she'd said she would, and she will, but someone had to stay with Seth."
Sandy's answer sounded sincere enough and Ryan frowned.
His eyelids were growing heavy, and he had to make an effort not to yawn, but he didn't want to fall asleep until he knew what was bothering Sandy.
"You should rest," Sandy said.
"What's wrong?" Ryan asked, giving up. He was too tired to figure out the answer by himself.
"Nothing's wrong, Ryan."
Ryan sighed and studied Sandy. "You look nervous," he pointed out.
A brief look a surprise crossed Sandy's face. "I'm just worried," he said.
"I'm sorry," Ryan said. "I know you didn't need me here, on top of Seth." He didn't even want to imagine the kind of organizational nightmare Kirsten and Sandy were going through right now, forced as they were to split their attention between Seth and him.
"Well, we never want to see either of you guys in the hospital," Sandy said. "But, Ryan, what I mean is that I'm worried about you, okay?"
"Sorry," Ryan repeated, unsure how to react. A month ago, the Cohens didn't even know he existed, and it always struck him as odd that they would be so concerned about him-that anyone would be so concerned about him. How could his life have changed so totally, so quickly?
"I know." Sandy sighed. "It's okay, Ryan, really. Seth is fine, and so are you. You just scared us, that's all. "
Before Ryan could apologize again, Sandy added, "You know that all three of us would have been here last night, if it had been possible, right? But it's better if Seth doesn't move too much, so…"
Of course, Ryan thought, the Cohens' lives had changed too. A month ago, they wouldn't have had to take shifts with Seth so they could spend time at the hospital. A month ago, they only had one teenager to worry about.
Every time Ryan allowed himself to think about what a huge thing the Cohens had done by inviting him to stay, he felt baffled and grateful and a few thousand other things.
A yawn took him by surprise, and Sandy smiled again. "For God's sake, kid, get some sleep." He took his newspaper and opened it again.
"Sandy, if you have things to do, you can go, you know?" Ryan said, closing his eyes.
"Nonsense," Sandy replied. "You're not staying alone one minute if you don't need to, whether you like it or not."
I don't mind, Ryan thought, but was too tired to say.
***
The next time he woke up, Sandy was talking with a cop, gesturing wildly as the cop nodded.
Ryan felt his stomach clench at the sight of the uniform.
He couldn't see a cop and not feel tense, not wonder if he was going to go to jail. Sometimes, he wondered what it was like to feel innocent enough not to have that kind of reaction.
"Sandy?" he called, nervous.
Sandy smiled widely. "Hey! Feel better?"
Ryan took a while to think about it; no nausea, and no headache so far. And he was now wearing clothes. Overall, things were looking up.
Too bad there was a cop in the room.
However, if Sandy's behavior was any indication, the cop wasn't here to cause problems. Ryan had grown familiar with Sandy's look when he was defending Ryan against various authorities-a mix of self-righteousness, controlled anger and eagerness, and Sandy didn't look any of those things right now.
"Ryan?" Sandy called, a worried frown replacing his smile.
"I'm fine," Ryan said. "Sorry."
Sandy looked like he was about to insist, but the cop coughed discreetly, as if to remind them that he was there.
Not that Ryan needed the reminder.
Ryan watched as Sandy smiled tightly and nodded at Ryan. "Ryan, this is Officer Kirk, and he'd like to ask you a few questions about last night."
"Okay," Ryan said uncertainly, wondering why Sandy looked so annoyed.
Had he been wrong when he had thought that there was no problem?
The cop took a seat and Sandy stood next to Ryan's bed, arms crossed, watching him with an undecipherable expression.
It didn't take Ryan long to find out what that was all about.
Officer Kirk had a tendency, which Ryan found incredibly annoying, to repeat everything Ryan was saying as he noted it, then to look at Ryan for confirmation.
He also asked the same questions several times, and Ryan quickly grew tired of repeating his answers.
Sandy seemed torn between amusement and annoyance as Ryan glared at the cop who was asking, for the third time, if he really didn't remember anything else. He finally jumped in when Ryan said, through clenched teeth, "No, I was knocked out and I don't remember seeing that guy run in any particular direction. Since I was, you know, knocked out."
"And I think that will be it," Sandy said.
About damn time.
Ryan was about ready to snap at the cop-never a smart move, but damn it, surely, it was clear enough that Ryan didn't remember much about last night.
"You have Mrs. Thyls' statement," Sandy added. Ryan snickered inwardly at the shiver that went through Kirk's frame at the mention of her name. "And Ryan has already told you everything he could remember. So, we'll call if he ever remembers anything else. If not, there's really not much point in continuing to interrogate him."
And this was one of the many reasons why Ryan liked Sandy and was profoundly grateful that he had gotten him as a PD.
"I'm sorry," the cop said. "It's just that this man attacked Mrs. Thyls, and we have his description, but, well, he's not on file and we don't know where to start looking…"
And they were terrified that the investigation wasn't going to turn anything up, because then, they'd have to face the wrath of Mrs. Thyls, Ryan thought.
He would have felt sorry for Officer Kirk, if he hadn't been a cop.
An annoying cop.
An annoying cop who was finally thanking him for his cooperation (that had to be a first, Ryan thought wryly) before being escorted out of the room by Sandy.
Ryan heaved a big sigh when the door closed on Officer Kirk. "Thank God," he mumbled.
Sandy smiled. "You okay?"
"Glad it's over," Ryan replied.
"Headache?" Sandy insisted, hovering near the door.
Ryan thought about it, and recognized the familiar signs of the building migraine.
Great.
"Now that you mention it…" he admitted.
"Want me to call one of the cute nurses?"
Ryan chuckled. "No, thanks, I think I'll try to sleep it off."
Sandy still hesitated, and Ryan added, more forcefully, "It's not the first time talking to a cop gives me a headache."
Sandy rolled his eyes but accepted his answer, and came back to the chair. "If you're sure."
Ryan wasn't sure, but he thought it was worth a shot.
Lying down, he closed his eyes and tried to relax.
Chapter 5