Disclaimer: The OC and its characters belong to someone with much more
money than me.
Author's note: This story takes place sometime after the Rescue because Sandy has changed jobs.
In The Gamble, Dawn pointed out how she always had more hope for Ryan than she had for Trey or her husband. Here's my take on it. Thanks for reading and an absolute THANK YOU to my new but soon to be long suffering beta.
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Thursday Afternoon
Chapter One
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Sandy is dog-tired. His new job is kicking his ass and quite frankly he wants to kick his own ass for taking it. The phone in his office rings. Sandy stares it for a moment before picking up the receiver. "Sandy Cohen."
There is silence on the other end and Sandy wonders if the caller has hung up. He asks a hesitant, "Hello, is anyone there? This is Sandy Cohen."
Another few seconds of silence and then a raspy voice answers, "It's Dawn Atwood."
Sandy's nervous system freezes up. He takes a quick breath. Gets control. Proceeds. "Dawn? How are you? Is everything ok? You sound a little.."
"Drunk," she slurs. "I'm drunk."
Sandy wants nothing more than to slam the receiver down. A drunk Dawn Atwood. Oh fucking joy.
"Dawn, I was going to say you sound tired. Is everything ok?"
She scoffs. "Oh yeah, you betcha. Absolutely peachy."
Sandy waits for her to proceed; the connection grows silent.
"Dawn..." Sandy leads. But it goes nowhere.
He waits another minute and Dawn continues, "I'm sending someone over there. He wants to meet you, talk about Ryan. I'm sorry. He's a nice guy. You should be nice to him."
A click, and just like that Dawn severs the connection, leaving Sandy to wonder what in the hell the call was even about.
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Kirsten is at home with the boys. The kids have a four-day weekend and were supposed to go to a comic book signing but Seth is sick with a temperature and Ryan has no interest in going without him. An hour ago she left the two of them in the living room, Ryan playing Playstation and Seth fast asleep on the couch. Walking down the stairs, she hears movement in the kitchen.
She enters it, sees that Ryan has made a sandwich and is digging around the fridge. He closes the refrigerator, a small bottle of apple juice in his hand.
"Is that for Seth?" Kirsten asks. Ryan only likes orange juice.
The teen nods, "He woke up a few minutes ago complaining that no one cares about his plight."
"I care", Kirsten states, frowning.
Ryan shrugs and raises his eyebrows. "He doesn't care if you care, he just wanted to guilt me into making him a sandwich."
Kirsten shakes her head as Ryan exits the kitchen.
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Seth pokes his head out from under a thick blanket and inspects the sandwich that Ryan has returned with. He sniffs at it, and then cautiously lifts the top piece of bread.
Ryan patiently stands next to the couch, plate and juice in hand, waiting for Seth to make up his mind. Finally, the sandwich meets Seth's approval. He takes it off the plate, curls up on one end of the couch, and takes tenuous rabbit nibbles from the top of the sandwich. Ryan turns off the video game he had been playing, clicks on the television and sits on the floor beside the couch. He flips from station to station, glancing up at Seth periodically to see if anything meets the sick boy's liking. ESPN Extreme pops up and Seth hits the top of Ryan's head. Ryan puts the remote down, unscrews the cap off the bottle of juice, hands it up to his foster brother. Seth shakes his head no so Ryan puts the lid back on and sets the juice at the foot of the couch.
Intending to take Seth's temperature now that he has woken up, Kirsten has followed Ryan into the living room. She stops at the entrance, watches the boys interact and smiles to herself. Familiar is the first step. A new family is forming.
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Sandy tries to ignore Dawn's phone call and get on with his day, but it's eating at him. He attempted to hit call back several times, but the line is constantly busy. Sitting in the Friday wrap-up meeting, waiting to present his synopsis of the week to the partners, Sandy struggles to concentrate. By tradition, the Friday wrap-up meeting takes place on Thursday afternoon. Most of the people in this conference room don't bothering coming in on Fridays. The meetings are informal, with jokes and banter often interrupting the presentations. Sandy glances at the clock. The meeting was supposing to end fifteen minutes ago. No chance in hell of that happening now. He fidgets with the pen Seth gave him last year for Father's Day, trying to ignore the feeling of dread that is eroding his stomach lining.
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Ryan helps Kirsten position Seth in the passenger seat of the Range Rover. Despite generous doses of Motrin, Seth's temperature is slowly rising. Kirsten has had enough. If she shows up at Seth's pediatrician before 5:00, they'll take him. Some people might be turned away. Kirsten knows she won't be.
"Mom," Seth says shakily. "My head feels wobbly. I feel like a bobble head."
Ryan finishes putting on Seth's seat belt and throws a concerned glance at Kirsten. He pats Seth's arm and tells him, "You kind of actually look like a bobble head."
Kirsten mouths a silent thank you at Ryan as he steps away from the car.
"I'm dying and he's making fun of me," Seth bemoans.
"You're not dying," Ryan interjects, "And I always make fun of you."
"I'll call you once we know what's going on," Kirsten tells Ryan over the initial roar of the engine. She had hesitated about asking Ryan to stay home. But several calls to Sandy's cell have gone unanswered, and she's vacillating between calling Sandy's main number at the office and having him hunted down or waiting to see what the doctor has to say. Finally, Kirsten decided to stall panicking Sandy. It's probably just a virus. Ryan can update Sandy when he returns the cell calls or comes home from work.
Preparing to close the passenger side door, Ryan pushes a slumped Seth into a sitting position. He locks eyes with Kirsten.
"I'll call you," she promises. He closes the door and steps back from the vehicle.
Standing alone in the driveway, Ryan watches the Rover speed off.
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Jim Thompson is droning on about questionable corporate expenditures as a secretary enters the conference room. Friday wrap-ups allow such interruptions and no one even notices her slip a piece of folded paper in front of Sandy.
He thanks her quietly and waits until she leaves before reading the note. ' A Major Edward Carden is here to see you. He said Dawn sent him.'
Sandy carefully folds the note and stands up. He excuses himself, promising to supply a complete two-week summary next Thursday. If anyone is disturbed by his early departure, they're not showing it. Aforementioned Jim Thompson looks up from his Power Point presentation enviously.
Walking slowly to his office, Sandy prepares himself for whatever bomb Dawn is about to vicariously drop.
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Ryan sits at the breakfast bar staring at the microwave's clock. Kirsten promised to call. He's supposed to wait for Sandy to call.
So Ryan sits in the kitchen, watching tiny digital numbers that seem immobile. The lack of a phone call from either Sandy or Kirsten has stirred up lingering questions of just where he fits in with this family.
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Sandy walks to his office. The candidates for one Major Carden quickly evaporate into thin air, as there is only one person waiting in the lobby. He's clean cut, dressed in tan Dockers and a subtle plaid green short sleeve shirt. For some reason Sandy notices the man's shoes. They are just like his, dress shoes, with a small, insignificant tassel.
Extending his hand, Sandy introduces himself. "Hi, I'm Sandy Cohen. You must be..."
"Ed Carden", the man quickly interposes, rising to meet Sandy's outstretched hand. "Dawn Atwood said she was going to call you, warn you I would be stopping by." He laughs nervously and Sandy swallows the bile threatening to erupt from the impromptu volcano that has formed in his stomach.
Major Edward Carden may share the same shoes as Sandy Cohen, but the eyes are all Ryan's.
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To Be Continued
Author's note: This story takes place sometime after the Rescue because Sandy has changed jobs.
In The Gamble, Dawn pointed out how she always had more hope for Ryan than she had for Trey or her husband. Here's my take on it. Thanks for reading and an absolute THANK YOU to my new but soon to be long suffering beta.
----------------------------------------------------------
Thursday Afternoon
Chapter One
------------------------------------------------
Sandy is dog-tired. His new job is kicking his ass and quite frankly he wants to kick his own ass for taking it. The phone in his office rings. Sandy stares it for a moment before picking up the receiver. "Sandy Cohen."
There is silence on the other end and Sandy wonders if the caller has hung up. He asks a hesitant, "Hello, is anyone there? This is Sandy Cohen."
Another few seconds of silence and then a raspy voice answers, "It's Dawn Atwood."
Sandy's nervous system freezes up. He takes a quick breath. Gets control. Proceeds. "Dawn? How are you? Is everything ok? You sound a little.."
"Drunk," she slurs. "I'm drunk."
Sandy wants nothing more than to slam the receiver down. A drunk Dawn Atwood. Oh fucking joy.
"Dawn, I was going to say you sound tired. Is everything ok?"
She scoffs. "Oh yeah, you betcha. Absolutely peachy."
Sandy waits for her to proceed; the connection grows silent.
"Dawn..." Sandy leads. But it goes nowhere.
He waits another minute and Dawn continues, "I'm sending someone over there. He wants to meet you, talk about Ryan. I'm sorry. He's a nice guy. You should be nice to him."
A click, and just like that Dawn severs the connection, leaving Sandy to wonder what in the hell the call was even about.
-----------------------------------------------
Kirsten is at home with the boys. The kids have a four-day weekend and were supposed to go to a comic book signing but Seth is sick with a temperature and Ryan has no interest in going without him. An hour ago she left the two of them in the living room, Ryan playing Playstation and Seth fast asleep on the couch. Walking down the stairs, she hears movement in the kitchen.
She enters it, sees that Ryan has made a sandwich and is digging around the fridge. He closes the refrigerator, a small bottle of apple juice in his hand.
"Is that for Seth?" Kirsten asks. Ryan only likes orange juice.
The teen nods, "He woke up a few minutes ago complaining that no one cares about his plight."
"I care", Kirsten states, frowning.
Ryan shrugs and raises his eyebrows. "He doesn't care if you care, he just wanted to guilt me into making him a sandwich."
Kirsten shakes her head as Ryan exits the kitchen.
---------------------------------------------------
Seth pokes his head out from under a thick blanket and inspects the sandwich that Ryan has returned with. He sniffs at it, and then cautiously lifts the top piece of bread.
Ryan patiently stands next to the couch, plate and juice in hand, waiting for Seth to make up his mind. Finally, the sandwich meets Seth's approval. He takes it off the plate, curls up on one end of the couch, and takes tenuous rabbit nibbles from the top of the sandwich. Ryan turns off the video game he had been playing, clicks on the television and sits on the floor beside the couch. He flips from station to station, glancing up at Seth periodically to see if anything meets the sick boy's liking. ESPN Extreme pops up and Seth hits the top of Ryan's head. Ryan puts the remote down, unscrews the cap off the bottle of juice, hands it up to his foster brother. Seth shakes his head no so Ryan puts the lid back on and sets the juice at the foot of the couch.
Intending to take Seth's temperature now that he has woken up, Kirsten has followed Ryan into the living room. She stops at the entrance, watches the boys interact and smiles to herself. Familiar is the first step. A new family is forming.
---------------------------------------------------
Sandy tries to ignore Dawn's phone call and get on with his day, but it's eating at him. He attempted to hit call back several times, but the line is constantly busy. Sitting in the Friday wrap-up meeting, waiting to present his synopsis of the week to the partners, Sandy struggles to concentrate. By tradition, the Friday wrap-up meeting takes place on Thursday afternoon. Most of the people in this conference room don't bothering coming in on Fridays. The meetings are informal, with jokes and banter often interrupting the presentations. Sandy glances at the clock. The meeting was supposing to end fifteen minutes ago. No chance in hell of that happening now. He fidgets with the pen Seth gave him last year for Father's Day, trying to ignore the feeling of dread that is eroding his stomach lining.
---------------------------------------------------
Ryan helps Kirsten position Seth in the passenger seat of the Range Rover. Despite generous doses of Motrin, Seth's temperature is slowly rising. Kirsten has had enough. If she shows up at Seth's pediatrician before 5:00, they'll take him. Some people might be turned away. Kirsten knows she won't be.
"Mom," Seth says shakily. "My head feels wobbly. I feel like a bobble head."
Ryan finishes putting on Seth's seat belt and throws a concerned glance at Kirsten. He pats Seth's arm and tells him, "You kind of actually look like a bobble head."
Kirsten mouths a silent thank you at Ryan as he steps away from the car.
"I'm dying and he's making fun of me," Seth bemoans.
"You're not dying," Ryan interjects, "And I always make fun of you."
"I'll call you once we know what's going on," Kirsten tells Ryan over the initial roar of the engine. She had hesitated about asking Ryan to stay home. But several calls to Sandy's cell have gone unanswered, and she's vacillating between calling Sandy's main number at the office and having him hunted down or waiting to see what the doctor has to say. Finally, Kirsten decided to stall panicking Sandy. It's probably just a virus. Ryan can update Sandy when he returns the cell calls or comes home from work.
Preparing to close the passenger side door, Ryan pushes a slumped Seth into a sitting position. He locks eyes with Kirsten.
"I'll call you," she promises. He closes the door and steps back from the vehicle.
Standing alone in the driveway, Ryan watches the Rover speed off.
---------------------------------------------------
Jim Thompson is droning on about questionable corporate expenditures as a secretary enters the conference room. Friday wrap-ups allow such interruptions and no one even notices her slip a piece of folded paper in front of Sandy.
He thanks her quietly and waits until she leaves before reading the note. ' A Major Edward Carden is here to see you. He said Dawn sent him.'
Sandy carefully folds the note and stands up. He excuses himself, promising to supply a complete two-week summary next Thursday. If anyone is disturbed by his early departure, they're not showing it. Aforementioned Jim Thompson looks up from his Power Point presentation enviously.
Walking slowly to his office, Sandy prepares himself for whatever bomb Dawn is about to vicariously drop.
--------------------------------------------------
Ryan sits at the breakfast bar staring at the microwave's clock. Kirsten promised to call. He's supposed to wait for Sandy to call.
So Ryan sits in the kitchen, watching tiny digital numbers that seem immobile. The lack of a phone call from either Sandy or Kirsten has stirred up lingering questions of just where he fits in with this family.
--------------------------------------------------
Sandy walks to his office. The candidates for one Major Carden quickly evaporate into thin air, as there is only one person waiting in the lobby. He's clean cut, dressed in tan Dockers and a subtle plaid green short sleeve shirt. For some reason Sandy notices the man's shoes. They are just like his, dress shoes, with a small, insignificant tassel.
Extending his hand, Sandy introduces himself. "Hi, I'm Sandy Cohen. You must be..."
"Ed Carden", the man quickly interposes, rising to meet Sandy's outstretched hand. "Dawn Atwood said she was going to call you, warn you I would be stopping by." He laughs nervously and Sandy swallows the bile threatening to erupt from the impromptu volcano that has formed in his stomach.
Major Edward Carden may share the same shoes as Sandy Cohen, but the eyes are all Ryan's.
-------------------------------------------------
To Be Continued