Disclaimer: Schwartz & Co. own it all...
Author's Note: This fic may be going on temporary hiatus, due to lack of time and interest. The Ex will continue to be updated, hopefully on a weekly basis. And of course - I'll try to post some one-shots. Reviews are greatly appreciated.
"Ryan, I ordered a pizza. Are you hungry?" Sandy opens the door of the poolhouse and sees Ryan lying on his bed.
Ryan shrugs, glancing at Sandy. Swinging his legs off the side of the bed, he mutters, "I guess."
They walk past the sparkling infinity pool, unused since Ryan's return to Chino and Seth's disappearance. Into the house they go. Kirsten sets a liter of Pepsi on the table and smiles at Sandy and Ryan.
"Who's ready for some pizza?" she asks, jokingly. Sandy laughs, even though Kirsten really isn't all that funny, and Ryan ignores her, pulling out a chair at the table and sitting down stiffly.
Dinner hears mostly the sounds of chewing and swallowing; without Seth to break the tension with witty banter, the house sounds empty.
"So," Kirsten starts, "Has there been any word on Seth, Sandy?"
Sandy looks at her. "Wouldn't I have called you?"
"So there's no news?"
"No."
"Ryan, how is Theresa doing?" Kirsten asks, changing the subject.
Ryan freezes, picks up his glass and takes a sip of soda. "Fine," he mumbles.
"She was okay with you coming home?"
"She was the one who wanted me back here. I wanted to stay there with her…that's my home."
Kirsten steals a look at Sandy, feeling anger rise like bile to her throat. "You know, Ryan, I'm trying, okay. I'm trying. But it doesn't do any good when you act like this!"
"Act like what? How would you know what I act like? You don't know me. You didn't stick around long enough to get to know me," Ryan bursts out. Sandy looks from Kirsten to Ryan and back again, shocked. Shocked because of Kirsten's unexpected anger and because Ryan doesn't usually speak in full sentences.
"Ryan – I've told you, I was young and misguided. I didn't have someone to help me make a decision. I was scared. And I know…God knows I can't make up those years, but I can be the best goddamn mother ever from now on."
"You had me," Sandy points out.
"Sandy, stay out of it," Ryan and Kirsten say at the same time, then turn to glare at each other.
"Well, that's a lame excuse. It doesn't change the fact that you sent me to live with…with Dawn! And her string of abusive boyfriends, after my dad left." Ryan's yelling and gripping the table now, and Sandy begins to stand up, afraid of what Ryan might do in this state of aggravation.
"Ryan," Kirsten whimpers, head in her hands, "I was lost. And I admit, I made a mistake. If I had known what kind of people Dawn and Eric Atwood were, I might have opted for another set of parents. But I didn't, Ryan. They were presented to me as perfectly fine people, and who was I to know better?" Without waiting to gauge Ryan's reaction she continues, "I'm sorry, honey, I really am."
"Haven't heard that before," Ryan snaps, and stands up. "After a while, sorry just isn't good enough. It gets old."
He picks up his plate and glass and goes into the kitchen, placing them in the stainless steel sink. Then, walking back past the table where Sandy and Kirsten are frozen, he says, "It was a mistake coming back here. I knew it would be."
He leaves Kirsten and Sandy to collapse in each other's arms, unable to speak or think coherent thoughts.
Ryan hates me, thinks Kirsten. He must.
Sandy kisses Kirsten's forehead. "Ryan doesn't hate you," he tells her.
And this is why she loves him.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Ryan wakes up feeling like he's got a frog in his throat. When he groans to clear it, he whimpers, for his throat's gone sore. He opens his eyes and the wall before him wavers briefly before jumping into view. He feels…a little lopsided.
And Ryan is dead tired. Last night, after he'd stomped into the poolhouse and locked the doors, Ryan lay in the dark regretting everything he'd yelled at Kirsten at dinner. She didn't deserve it, not really, not when Ryan himself wouldn't even listen to her and attempt to understand her motives.
The exhaustion also comes from the new information that's been sprung upon him. Kirsten is his mother. Ryan's known for several days but every time he thinks about it, really, really thinks about it, it's as though he's just been told.
He wobbles out of bed and stumbles over to the bathroom, relieving himself and washing his face. Touching his face after he dries it with a towel, Ryan finds that he's burning up. Great. A fever. Just what he needs.
Around 9:30 Sandy knocks on the poolhouse doors. Ryan manages to open the doors, before collapsing into Sandy's arms.
"Whoa, there, Ryan. You okay?" Sandy helps Ryan back to his bed and when he's all snug and settled, Sandy feels his forehead. "You've got a fever, Ryan."
"I know," Ryan croaks, cracking a smile.
"And a sore throat…you can barely talk…" Sandy rubs his chin thoughtfully, "But that's nothing new."
Ryan opens his mouth and attempts to speak but nothing comes out. Nothing Sandy can interpret, that is.
"Why don't I get you some tea, or soup maybe?" Ryan nods at this suggestion. "Okay, I'll be back in a flash."
Once Sandy's gone back to the main house, he checks his watch and finds that if he doesn't leave now, he's going to be late for a meeting with prospective clients. Rachel will be pretty angry if he skips out on this one.
"Kirsten," he calls, "Come down here."
Kirsten appears in the kitchen in an instant, wrapped up in a monogrammed cream colored bathrobe, rubbing her eyes.
Sandy kisses her eyelids, then cuts to the chase. "I've got a meeting in twenty minutes and if I leave now I'll just make it."
"Okay," Kirsten says, "And?"
"Ryan's sick. He's got a fever and his throat's sore as hell; he can barely talk, not that he does when he's feeling fine. But I need you to make him soup or something, okay?"
"Sandy…do you think that's a good idea? Ryan and I – we're not exactly on speaking terms now, are we?"
"Do something about that, then." Sandy kisses Kirsten on the lips for a full twenty seconds before saying, "I better go." He leaves, and Kirsten goes to the pantry.
She scans the shelves of packaged foods and her eyes come to rest on a familiar red and white can.
Twenty minutes later, nursing a burnt finger, Kirsten carries a tray with a bowl of soup and a glass of orange juice on it out to the poolhouse. The bowl she's filled up too high and the soup is sloshing over the sides.
Using her elbow, Kirsten opens the door to the poolhouse. Ryan is lying in his bed, eyes closed.
"Sandy?" he murmurs.
"Kirsten," she replies. He opens his eyes, almost disbelievingly, and shuts them again.
"Sandy said he'd bring me something," Ryan says in a raspy voice.
"He had a meeting he was running late to and so I said I'd make you something. I hope that's okay."
Ryan shakes his head from side to side and Kirsten can only assume that it's a 'yes'.
She carries the tray to Ryan's bed, careful now not to spill any of the soup on him. He sees the soup and arches an eyebrow.
"It's Campbell's, don't worry," Kirsten laughs, and Ryan smiles slightly. She sets it before him and he sits up in bed, holding the tray steady. Kirsten sits down on the other side of the bed.
Ryan lifts the spoon to his mouth and puts it down quickly, wagging his tongue. He blows on the soup. Then, pointing to Kirsten's finger, he asks, "What happened?"
Kirsten looks down. "Oh, that. I burned it on the pot."
Ryan nods knowingly. He takes another tentative spoonful of soup and this time it's not too hot.
They sit in silence while Ryan consumes two thirds of the soup. Kirsten can't take her eyes off of Ryan. Her first born. Her little baby.
"You know," she begins, not sure where the words or the courage to speak them is coming from, "I remember the moment you were born. I looked into your eyes – even then they were striking, and I saw tufts of blond hair on your perfect little head…and I knew that if I held you for another second, I'd never let you go. So I kissed you on the head, and let the nurses take you away."
Ryan didn't respond, which Kirsten took as a good sign, and continued, "And after that, I really doubted my decision. I wanted to see you grow up, to shape you and to find out what kind of person you'd be, but I wasn't mature enough or responsible enough at the time…and then when I was released, I went to see you, and Dawn and Eric were there…and they looked – how do I say this – not so well to do, and I was worried for you, Ryan, but I knew that it was out of my hands already."
"You couldn't have just taken me back, not after you'd signed me over," Ryan realizes, taking a swallow of the orange juice.
"After that – I hightailed it out of there. Because if I had stayed another minute I would've been on my knees begging your parents to let me keep you. I was sick with worry…had I just determined your future?" Kirsten smiles, takes Ryan's hand in her own and rubs it gently. He pleases her by not recoiling at her touch.
"So how'd you know it was me, then, after all these years?" Ryan asks quietly. Kirsten's never been so open with him before. And he's realizing, that listening to her, actually listening to what she was feeling when she put him up for adoption, helps him understand. It doesn't make him feel better, but at least her actions have been justified.
"When you first came here," Kirsten admits, "I didn't trust you all that much. There was something familiar about you though, something oddly comforting. And obviously, you grew on me. I just could never pinpoint what it was about you that I recognized. But my instincts told me you were okay." She takes a deep breath. "And then…once you'd left with Theresa, it hit me. Those eyes…I'd seen them before. You were my son."
Ryan sniffs then, and not because of his cold. He couldn't help it; knowing all of this just makes him very emotional. This was his mother. Kirsten was his mother. He found himself wrapping his arms around Kirsten and pulling her in tightly.
She relaxes within his strong, determined embrace. A son's embrace.
"I love you, honey," she says, tears springing to her eyes. This was how she wanted it to be with Ryan. She wants to be a good mother to him. And she has a feeling this is a wonderful start.
"I love you," Ryan chokes out, though his throat is sore and tears are stinging his eyes. "I've missed you."