The O.C. Fic: Fairground Rides and Cockleshells (1/?)
Title: Fairground Rides and Cockleshells
Fandom: The O.C.
Rating / Genre: PG-13+ / Gen / AU.
Words: 2177.
Spoilers: Season One, The Pilot.
Note: The story is all mapped out and much of it written, so I'm going to do my darnedest to update this regularly. I'm walking the fic rope wihout a beta-net so any mistakes are, alas, mine.
Schmoopy Dedication: For all my O.C. flisters, particularly elzed and tarteaucitron who I shared a season two sofa with way back when, mel39 whose ongoing love for the old school seasons made me want to write this story and most of all for cheekymice to help pick her pluck up during a rotten summer. You're all brilliant.
Summary: Two roads of Ryan's future diverged the day he called Sandy from Chino; this time, Ryan walks the other one, with repercussions for all.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Charlie Brown Says-
No-one promised me this when I was a kid
When my days were filled with carousels
fairground rides and cockleshells
Ocean Colour Scene, Charlie Brown Says
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
One.
Nobody answers after one. Not unless they're at work, anyways.
Two.
Two was fine. Only someone who always knew where their cell phone would answer after two rings and somehow the slightly shambolic figure he'd met across a scuffed table in juvie didn't seem the type.
Three.
But three. Three was time enough.
Four.
Yeah. Time enough for someone to see the caller ID and opt out of taking a 909 number.
Five.
Five was enough to hang a hope out to dry.
With a defeated clunk, Ryan dropped the phone back in its cradle. He stuffed the lawyer's card back in his pocket, reached for his bike and pushed off into the fading light.
If he'd waited for six rings, his life would have been different.
~~~
The orange tinted clouds rippled smoothly as Sandy moved the net back and forwards across the surface of the pool, the resistance varying as he twisted to catch the scattered leaves. The rhythm was comforting, a moment of Zen tranquillity after the stresses of his day. He had no intention of giving up a life of Public Defending, but he could see how easily days like today could add up to a burn out; even though he knew he'd done his job and done it well, watching that smart kid Ryan get into the car with someone he doubted was in a fit state to be behind the wheel, he knew hadn't done enough.
And from the sounds of disharmony spilling out across the backyard from inside the house, it looked like the day wasn't over yet.
Moments later, the sound of Seth's door slamming shot through Sandy's wearying body and added another hundredweight of exhaustion to his ever-wearying heart. Hearing the pat of flip flops on the steps, Sandy looked up from the pool to see the same world tired expression on his wife's face.
"Is everything-" Sandy started, "- I was going to say alright, but given the door-"
"Right," said Kirsten as she joined Sandy by the poolside. "He's just- I don't know what he is. He's just-"
"- Seth." Sandy finished.
"When did he get so sad?" Kirsten asked Sandy as he slipped an arm round her side, "I know he's always lived in his own little shell, but lately, it's like nothing brings him out of it. He just seems so… down."
"What were you talking about?"
"Only school. Harbor sent through the reading lists for the AP classes and I suggested going book shopping. And I know school's not exactly Seth's favourite place to be, but still-"
"-He was less than enthused."
"Hence the slamming." Kirsten sighed and glanced up towards where the acoustic hum of Seth's music had begun to emanate. "I don't know, Sandy. It sounds like such a terrible thing to wish for your child to be any different than he is, I just, I don't know…"
"What?" Sandy asked gently.
Kirsten sighed. "I just wish that he liked himself more."
"Yeah," Sandy agreed wistfully. "Me too." He kissed Kirsten on her head. "I guess we'll have to like him enough for the three of us for a while."
"We can do that."
"And there's always plan B."
"I don't know Sandy, shipping him off somewhere-"
"-Hey, I'm not talking brat camp, or a retreat or anything, we're not Jimmy and Julie, okay-"
"-I know, I'm not saying we are, I just don't know if New York's a good place for him to be at the moment, I don't think he's ready to take that kind of trip alone yet."
"We're talking about staying with my mother for a few weeks, Kirsten, not sending him off to make his fortune. And it's not like she lives on 54th and Mean, the neighbourhood's fine."
"I know, I know. I just think that Seth, all of us, we have to figure out how to solve things together and I don't see how we're going to do that if he's on the other side of the country."
The conversation stalling, Kirsten found her gaze falling to a disconsolate glint at bottom of the pool. "Sandy Cohen, is that your cell phone?"
"It just might be." Sandy looked at his wife sheepishly. "I was aiming to answer it, it didn't go too well."
Kirsten raised a gently mocking eyebrow at him. "So I see. Never mind, you could do with a new one."
"No, no, no," Sandy protested, sensing a plan formulating in Kirsten's mind, "I've told you before, I am not getting a BlackBerry. As if owning a communications device named after a fruit wasn't ridiculous enough, it's just one step from that to being your father and that's one path I'm not willing to explore."
"Okay, okay! No to a BlackBerry," Kirsten acquiesced good-naturedly. "But maybe something that can save more than say, three voicemails? It's not like you're so great at answering your phone even when you're not sending it to a watery grave."
"Fine, fine. As long as it’s still a phone." Sandy smiled as an idea hit him, "Hey, maybe Seth could pick it out sometime this week? And if the two of you happen to pick up a few textbooks while you were at the mall…"
"… It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."
"See how beautifully this works? Could be fate."
"Could be."
The evening air cooling, Sandy pulled Kirsten closer and they stood in almost contented silence, moving the net across the pool in unison, each of them wishing secretly that everything could be this simple.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
"Ryan, you know I can't, man." Travis looked at his friend with guilty sympathy.
"Come on, Travis, I've got no place to go."
"I told you on the phone, alright? Don't make this harder. My mom doesn't want us hanging round you guys anymore."
"Lot of that going around," Ryan snarked bitterly. "Look, Trey's in jail now, so it's just me, 'kay? I’ll be gone before morning and I don't even need the sofa, just let me crash on the floor. One night. I'm just looking for a roof over my head."
"Seriously, she'll kill me. It's not down to me, she won't have you in the house," Travis said, pulling a pack of cigarettes out and lighting up two of them. "It's not like I agree with her."
"Like it's my fault my brother's a moron."
"You know my mom. What she lacks up in logic, she makes up for in principles." Travis passed a cigarette over to Ryan and took a long drag on his own. "It's not like I agree with her, okay, but it's not going to happen. Hey, you're lucky she's not here, you'd be hearing this straight from her."
"Yeah, I'm lucky alright," Ryan said, enjoying the warmth of his cigarette as the nicotine and tobacco filed through him. "I should buy a lottery ticket."
Travis offered his friend the smallest of smiles, knowing it wasn't enough. "Least he wasn't drunk this time."
Ryan shrugged. It wasn't that Travis wasn't right, but right now knowing that he'd gotten off lightly this time from A.J. didn't make his face or any other part of him feel better. And neither did guilting out his friend; wherever he ended up sleeping tonight he could tell it wasn't going to be here.
"What about Theresa, there's no shifting her?" Travis asked, interrupting his thoughts.
"Nah, she's still pissed at me. I called, but she hung up."
"Because of what you said about Eddie?"
"I guess."
"Yeah, well someone had to. Guy's a serious asshole. The shit he talks, half the time he speaks you can't tell which way is up."
"Half the time?" Ryan smiled sarcastically.
"More than. Still, hanging up? That's harsh."
Ryan shifted back and forth on his feet, trying to stave off the waves of tiredness increasingly washing through his bones. "I should head off."
"You gonna be okay tonight? You'll find somewhere?"
"Yeah, no worries. Diego owes me."
"Diego? Just don't breathe in. Don't want to be stoned for your hearing, trust me, goes down really badly with judges."
"I got some time before then, I'll be okay," Ryan said, dropping the butt of his cigarette and twisting the stub into the dirt with his boot.
"And your mom will come down before then," Travis said, unaware of his Freudian slip.
"Or she'll run out of money. Either way, she'll take me back." Ryan swung his bag over his shoulder before taking the guilt ridden hug that was offered.
"It'll be right."
"Always is." Ryan punched his friend lightly on the shoulder. "Give my love to your mom."
Travis returned the sarcastic grin, punched him back. "Get out of here."
With a nod of acknowledgement, Ryan headed down the weed strewn path to where his bike lay, slipping the keys he'd lifted from Travis into his jeans along the way. After all, he figured as he rode away, if everyone took him for a criminal already, he may as well start acting like it.
~~~
Kirsten knocked softly on Seth's door.
"Seth? You asleep?"
From inside, there came the sounds of a sixteen scuffling across his bedroom floor, followed by the snap of a bedside lamp.
"Not yet. I'm, uh, I think I'm just going now."
"Can I come in?"
"Uh, yeah."
Opening the door, Kirsten looked in on the darkened room. Seth was sneaking beneath the covers.
"It is the holidays, you know, I don't mind how late you stay up, just as long as you don't turn into a fruit bat."
"Check: no fruit bat."
"Just as long as you help out with the grocery shopping, wash the car with your father when he asks."
"Mom, that's almost never. You know how Dad considers the sand the last bastion of his hippy credentials."
"Then I guess it's just you me and the groceries."
"I guess so."
Sitting down next to the lengthy lump of Seth, Kirsten sat on the bed, leaned forward and kissed him gently on the forehead. As she brushed his cheek, she could feel the damp touch of tears hiding there. Embarrassed, he turned his head away, seeking refuge in the depth of his pillows.
"I'm sorry I shouted at you."
"Oh, I think you're forgiven."
"And the door."
"First offence. Clean slate."
"Thanks."
"We're going to sort things out, okay?" said Kirsten, touching at Seth's tear-trails with her thumb. "Me and your dad, we're going to make things better for you. I promise."
Kissing her son for a final time, Kirsten stood up and crossed to the room. "'Night, Seth."
"Mom?"
Kirsten stopped on the threshold, looking back in the direction of the tentative whisper.
"What is it, sweetie?"
"I think-" Seth turned his gaze back to her and then across at the wastepaper basket by his desk. In the half light of the hallway, Kirsten saw for the first time the now empty blister packets of pills abandoned there and her mouth was filled with the bitter adrenaline taste of comprehension.
"- I think I've made a mistake."
~~~
With the last of twilight now twisted into night, Ryan left the scrap of scrubland laughingly referred to as the neighbourhood park and headed down the last couple of blocks to where his bed for the night waited for him.
Friend or not, considering what he'd been arrested for less than twenty-four hours ago, Ryan didn't think it'd be a good idea to move Travis's battered Ford to somewhere less conspicuous. Instead, he'd used the last of his energy to fight off his tiredness and waited until the streets were quieter and the dark fully formed before heading to his friend's car. As a resting place, it wasn't perfect, but there was room for him and his bike and the sunroof didn't leak. He'd even lucked out and retrieved a couple of beach blankets from the back, shaking out the sand before locking the doors and snuggling down the best he could across the hard stretch of the station wagon's flat back seat and trunk.
He had absolutely no idea what he was going to do in the morning. Despite what he'd told Travis about heading back home in a day or two, Ryan couldn't help but feel that something big was stirring on the horizon. Something not good, with teeth, sharp and ready to bite.
Down the street, he heard the sounds of a gaggle of teenagers coming his way and he flipped the beach blanket over his head, checking the good parts of his bike, such as they were, were covered by the other.
Tomorrow could wait for tomorrow and whoever it belonged to. Even though Ryan couldn't remember when or why he'd restricted his life to such small goals, he decided that right here, right now, he'd settle for just being left alone.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Fandom: The O.C.
Rating / Genre: PG-13+ / Gen / AU.
Words: 2177.
Spoilers: Season One, The Pilot.
Note: The story is all mapped out and much of it written, so I'm going to do my darnedest to update this regularly. I'm walking the fic rope wihout a beta-net so any mistakes are, alas, mine.
Schmoopy Dedication: For all my O.C. flisters, particularly elzed and tarteaucitron who I shared a season two sofa with way back when, mel39 whose ongoing love for the old school seasons made me want to write this story and most of all for cheekymice to help pick her pluck up during a rotten summer. You're all brilliant.
Summary: Two roads of Ryan's future diverged the day he called Sandy from Chino; this time, Ryan walks the other one, with repercussions for all.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Charlie Brown Says-
No-one promised me this when I was a kid
When my days were filled with carousels
fairground rides and cockleshells
Ocean Colour Scene, Charlie Brown Says
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
One.
Nobody answers after one. Not unless they're at work, anyways.
Two.
Two was fine. Only someone who always knew where their cell phone would answer after two rings and somehow the slightly shambolic figure he'd met across a scuffed table in juvie didn't seem the type.
Three.
But three. Three was time enough.
Four.
Yeah. Time enough for someone to see the caller ID and opt out of taking a 909 number.
Five.
Five was enough to hang a hope out to dry.
With a defeated clunk, Ryan dropped the phone back in its cradle. He stuffed the lawyer's card back in his pocket, reached for his bike and pushed off into the fading light.
If he'd waited for six rings, his life would have been different.
~~~
The orange tinted clouds rippled smoothly as Sandy moved the net back and forwards across the surface of the pool, the resistance varying as he twisted to catch the scattered leaves. The rhythm was comforting, a moment of Zen tranquillity after the stresses of his day. He had no intention of giving up a life of Public Defending, but he could see how easily days like today could add up to a burn out; even though he knew he'd done his job and done it well, watching that smart kid Ryan get into the car with someone he doubted was in a fit state to be behind the wheel, he knew hadn't done enough.
And from the sounds of disharmony spilling out across the backyard from inside the house, it looked like the day wasn't over yet.
Moments later, the sound of Seth's door slamming shot through Sandy's wearying body and added another hundredweight of exhaustion to his ever-wearying heart. Hearing the pat of flip flops on the steps, Sandy looked up from the pool to see the same world tired expression on his wife's face.
"Is everything-" Sandy started, "- I was going to say alright, but given the door-"
"Right," said Kirsten as she joined Sandy by the poolside. "He's just- I don't know what he is. He's just-"
"- Seth." Sandy finished.
"When did he get so sad?" Kirsten asked Sandy as he slipped an arm round her side, "I know he's always lived in his own little shell, but lately, it's like nothing brings him out of it. He just seems so… down."
"What were you talking about?"
"Only school. Harbor sent through the reading lists for the AP classes and I suggested going book shopping. And I know school's not exactly Seth's favourite place to be, but still-"
"-He was less than enthused."
"Hence the slamming." Kirsten sighed and glanced up towards where the acoustic hum of Seth's music had begun to emanate. "I don't know, Sandy. It sounds like such a terrible thing to wish for your child to be any different than he is, I just, I don't know…"
"What?" Sandy asked gently.
Kirsten sighed. "I just wish that he liked himself more."
"Yeah," Sandy agreed wistfully. "Me too." He kissed Kirsten on her head. "I guess we'll have to like him enough for the three of us for a while."
"We can do that."
"And there's always plan B."
"I don't know Sandy, shipping him off somewhere-"
"-Hey, I'm not talking brat camp, or a retreat or anything, we're not Jimmy and Julie, okay-"
"-I know, I'm not saying we are, I just don't know if New York's a good place for him to be at the moment, I don't think he's ready to take that kind of trip alone yet."
"We're talking about staying with my mother for a few weeks, Kirsten, not sending him off to make his fortune. And it's not like she lives on 54th and Mean, the neighbourhood's fine."
"I know, I know. I just think that Seth, all of us, we have to figure out how to solve things together and I don't see how we're going to do that if he's on the other side of the country."
The conversation stalling, Kirsten found her gaze falling to a disconsolate glint at bottom of the pool. "Sandy Cohen, is that your cell phone?"
"It just might be." Sandy looked at his wife sheepishly. "I was aiming to answer it, it didn't go too well."
Kirsten raised a gently mocking eyebrow at him. "So I see. Never mind, you could do with a new one."
"No, no, no," Sandy protested, sensing a plan formulating in Kirsten's mind, "I've told you before, I am not getting a BlackBerry. As if owning a communications device named after a fruit wasn't ridiculous enough, it's just one step from that to being your father and that's one path I'm not willing to explore."
"Okay, okay! No to a BlackBerry," Kirsten acquiesced good-naturedly. "But maybe something that can save more than say, three voicemails? It's not like you're so great at answering your phone even when you're not sending it to a watery grave."
"Fine, fine. As long as it’s still a phone." Sandy smiled as an idea hit him, "Hey, maybe Seth could pick it out sometime this week? And if the two of you happen to pick up a few textbooks while you were at the mall…"
"… It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."
"See how beautifully this works? Could be fate."
"Could be."
The evening air cooling, Sandy pulled Kirsten closer and they stood in almost contented silence, moving the net across the pool in unison, each of them wishing secretly that everything could be this simple.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
"Ryan, you know I can't, man." Travis looked at his friend with guilty sympathy.
"Come on, Travis, I've got no place to go."
"I told you on the phone, alright? Don't make this harder. My mom doesn't want us hanging round you guys anymore."
"Lot of that going around," Ryan snarked bitterly. "Look, Trey's in jail now, so it's just me, 'kay? I’ll be gone before morning and I don't even need the sofa, just let me crash on the floor. One night. I'm just looking for a roof over my head."
"Seriously, she'll kill me. It's not down to me, she won't have you in the house," Travis said, pulling a pack of cigarettes out and lighting up two of them. "It's not like I agree with her."
"Like it's my fault my brother's a moron."
"You know my mom. What she lacks up in logic, she makes up for in principles." Travis passed a cigarette over to Ryan and took a long drag on his own. "It's not like I agree with her, okay, but it's not going to happen. Hey, you're lucky she's not here, you'd be hearing this straight from her."
"Yeah, I'm lucky alright," Ryan said, enjoying the warmth of his cigarette as the nicotine and tobacco filed through him. "I should buy a lottery ticket."
Travis offered his friend the smallest of smiles, knowing it wasn't enough. "Least he wasn't drunk this time."
Ryan shrugged. It wasn't that Travis wasn't right, but right now knowing that he'd gotten off lightly this time from A.J. didn't make his face or any other part of him feel better. And neither did guilting out his friend; wherever he ended up sleeping tonight he could tell it wasn't going to be here.
"What about Theresa, there's no shifting her?" Travis asked, interrupting his thoughts.
"Nah, she's still pissed at me. I called, but she hung up."
"Because of what you said about Eddie?"
"I guess."
"Yeah, well someone had to. Guy's a serious asshole. The shit he talks, half the time he speaks you can't tell which way is up."
"Half the time?" Ryan smiled sarcastically.
"More than. Still, hanging up? That's harsh."
Ryan shifted back and forth on his feet, trying to stave off the waves of tiredness increasingly washing through his bones. "I should head off."
"You gonna be okay tonight? You'll find somewhere?"
"Yeah, no worries. Diego owes me."
"Diego? Just don't breathe in. Don't want to be stoned for your hearing, trust me, goes down really badly with judges."
"I got some time before then, I'll be okay," Ryan said, dropping the butt of his cigarette and twisting the stub into the dirt with his boot.
"And your mom will come down before then," Travis said, unaware of his Freudian slip.
"Or she'll run out of money. Either way, she'll take me back." Ryan swung his bag over his shoulder before taking the guilt ridden hug that was offered.
"It'll be right."
"Always is." Ryan punched his friend lightly on the shoulder. "Give my love to your mom."
Travis returned the sarcastic grin, punched him back. "Get out of here."
With a nod of acknowledgement, Ryan headed down the weed strewn path to where his bike lay, slipping the keys he'd lifted from Travis into his jeans along the way. After all, he figured as he rode away, if everyone took him for a criminal already, he may as well start acting like it.
~~~
Kirsten knocked softly on Seth's door.
"Seth? You asleep?"
From inside, there came the sounds of a sixteen scuffling across his bedroom floor, followed by the snap of a bedside lamp.
"Not yet. I'm, uh, I think I'm just going now."
"Can I come in?"
"Uh, yeah."
Opening the door, Kirsten looked in on the darkened room. Seth was sneaking beneath the covers.
"It is the holidays, you know, I don't mind how late you stay up, just as long as you don't turn into a fruit bat."
"Check: no fruit bat."
"Just as long as you help out with the grocery shopping, wash the car with your father when he asks."
"Mom, that's almost never. You know how Dad considers the sand the last bastion of his hippy credentials."
"Then I guess it's just you me and the groceries."
"I guess so."
Sitting down next to the lengthy lump of Seth, Kirsten sat on the bed, leaned forward and kissed him gently on the forehead. As she brushed his cheek, she could feel the damp touch of tears hiding there. Embarrassed, he turned his head away, seeking refuge in the depth of his pillows.
"I'm sorry I shouted at you."
"Oh, I think you're forgiven."
"And the door."
"First offence. Clean slate."
"Thanks."
"We're going to sort things out, okay?" said Kirsten, touching at Seth's tear-trails with her thumb. "Me and your dad, we're going to make things better for you. I promise."
Kissing her son for a final time, Kirsten stood up and crossed to the room. "'Night, Seth."
"Mom?"
Kirsten stopped on the threshold, looking back in the direction of the tentative whisper.
"What is it, sweetie?"
"I think-" Seth turned his gaze back to her and then across at the wastepaper basket by his desk. In the half light of the hallway, Kirsten saw for the first time the now empty blister packets of pills abandoned there and her mouth was filled with the bitter adrenaline taste of comprehension.
"- I think I've made a mistake."
~~~
With the last of twilight now twisted into night, Ryan left the scrap of scrubland laughingly referred to as the neighbourhood park and headed down the last couple of blocks to where his bed for the night waited for him.
Friend or not, considering what he'd been arrested for less than twenty-four hours ago, Ryan didn't think it'd be a good idea to move Travis's battered Ford to somewhere less conspicuous. Instead, he'd used the last of his energy to fight off his tiredness and waited until the streets were quieter and the dark fully formed before heading to his friend's car. As a resting place, it wasn't perfect, but there was room for him and his bike and the sunroof didn't leak. He'd even lucked out and retrieved a couple of beach blankets from the back, shaking out the sand before locking the doors and snuggling down the best he could across the hard stretch of the station wagon's flat back seat and trunk.
He had absolutely no idea what he was going to do in the morning. Despite what he'd told Travis about heading back home in a day or two, Ryan couldn't help but feel that something big was stirring on the horizon. Something not good, with teeth, sharp and ready to bite.
Down the street, he heard the sounds of a gaggle of teenagers coming his way and he flipped the beach blanket over his head, checking the good parts of his bike, such as they were, were covered by the other.
Tomorrow could wait for tomorrow and whoever it belonged to. Even though Ryan couldn't remember when or why he'd restricted his life to such small goals, he decided that right here, right now, he'd settle for just being left alone.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~