AN: Takes place during the Season Finale.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything OC related.

Ryan slammed the door to the apartment and glared at Trey with cold eyes.

"What's up, baby brother?" Trey asked before Ryan punched him in the face.

Ryan felt Trey's nose crack under the force of his blow and he kept hitting him, even after his brother's chest started to gurgle.

"If you ever touch her again, I swear to god I'll kill you…are you listening?" He paused long enough to give Trey a chance to respond.

"Get off me…" Trey coughed.

Ryan started hitting him again, harder this time. He wanted to make Trey hurt, he wanted to make him feel his betrayal, to make him feel the anger and the hurt…

"Ryan, stop…please…"

He leaned back finally, blood on his hands and examined his brother.

"She's lying…"

"You're lying; all you do is lie…" Ryan said, punching him again. He felt one of Trey's teeth dislodge and Trey cried out in pain.

Ryan hit him again, focusing on his chest and abdomen now. "I want you to get the hell out of here, I don't ever want to see you again…if you come near me or Marissa or anyone I fucking know, I swear to god I'll have you locked up so fast that you won't have time to call a fucking lawyer…"

"Ryan, stop…"

Ryan hit him one more time in the face before climbing off him and standing over him. Trey coughed, blood spraying across the floor. "I mean it, Trey. I'll fucking kill you."

He turned to leave, his conscience calm again for a moment. He barely registered Trey jumping on his back and knocking him into the glass coffee table.

"You want to fight dirty, baby brother, we can fight dirty…" Trey hissed, spraying blood from his nose as he pounded his fists into Ryan's lower back while he was still stunned from slamming into the table.

It was blood and pain and fists for an eternity before the cops rushed in. Ryan didn't know who had called them, maybe one of the neighbors, all he knew was that he was cuffed and in the car without anyone asking him what happened.

------------

The phone rings in the empty kitchen.

The phone rings in the empty car.

------------

"Get this kid to a medic," the officer said, opening the door of the police car outside the juvenile detention center.

He was still spinning from the rushed interrogation.

"Are the drugs yours? You helping your brother sell drugs? Am I going to find your fingerprints on the gun? You guys fighting over the drug money? Did you shoot that gun at the Bait Shop?"

It didn't matter what he said, the cops had already convicted him. And Sandy wasn't answering his phone. He didn't want to ask for a public defender when he already had a lawyer.

At least since he was seventeen, they wouldn't put him in the same jail as his brother. That would end badly.

This was all Trey's fucking fault.

Now he was right back where he started. Juvie. They didn't have a jail cell for juvenile offenders, they went to Juvie even if it was for the night.

Even if it was only temporary until they sorted out the logistics of his arrest. Assault, definitely. He didn't have anything to do with the massive amount of drugs and guns that they found at his brother's apartment, but his prints were all over the place.

And Trey would probably try to fuck him over after their little battle

"He bled all over the fucking car, now we're going to have to get it detailed," the cop snapped as the guard took his arm and jerked him toward the entrance.

Ryan could take a beating. It was a talent he'd learned at an early age. But he was getting tired now. The loss of blood and the shards of glass embedded in his back plus his screaming muscles and swelling face…he just wanted to sit down.

Fucking Trey.

The guard shoved him into a sterile room with white walls and a single chair. He motioned to the folded jumpsuit on the chair. "Change into that and the nurse will be in to check on you. Don't try anything stupid, punk," the man added, reluctantly releasing him from the cuffs.

Ryan waited for the man to leave and the telltale sound of the door locking before allowing himself to relax. He'd been cuffed throughout the whole interrogation and beyond and his wrists were raw from the restraints. He knew that he was going to bruise. He was going to be wearing his badges of weakness within hours.

It was going to be a long night. He stripped out of his bloodstained clothes and took a moment to do a quick assessment of his injuries. Bruises peppering his chest and arms. His right wrist was at least sprained if not fractured or something. He could still feel the blood trickling down his back from the glass in his flesh. His chest hurt, he'd probably bruised some ribs. Fucking Trey. He hoped Trey was in some pain wherever he was.

He reluctantly took off his brand new sneakers and slipped his feet into the safety shoes and set them aside.

It made him feel a little bit better knowing that his fucking brother was suffering for what he'd done to him.

The doorknob jiggled and Ryan immediately tensed up again, keeping his hands in front of him and standing against the wall to show that he was non-threatening.

The male nurse entered with the same guard carrying a small medical bag. "All right now, kid. Let's see what's happened to you…"

The guard took charge, stepping over and motioning for Ryan to turn around. "He's bleeding, been bleeding since they arrested him." The guard unbuttoned the front of the jumpsuit and roughly pulled it down to bare his chest and back.

"Looks like glass. Let's get him into the other room so he can sit down while I patch him up," the nurse said.

"I'm going to cuff him just in case," the guard said.

Ryan held out his hands complacently. He wasn't in the mood to fight anymore. Unless his fucking brother showed up.

------------

The phone rang in the empty house.

------------

The nurse couldn't be bothered to put in any stitches but bandaged his cuts up as best he could and made sure to put Ryan's name on the list of people to see the doctor the next morning for follow up.

Ryan's eyelids were drooping after the exam and all he wanted to do was lie the fuck down and be left alone. Surely Sandy would get the message about him before morning and they could put their heads together to figure out how to get him out of this mess.

"You'll get another phone call tomorrow," the guard said, shoving him into the cell.

Most of the bandages were hidden under his jumpsuit so he hoped that he could avoid any confrontations tonight. Hopefully they'd wait until at least the morning to smell his blood in the water.

The guard slammed the door shut and locked it and Ryan glanced around in the dim light to try and find the empty bunk.

He walked over and sat down on it, making sure not to make eye contact with any of the other kids in the two other bunks.

"Fuck. This is fucking ironic, isn't it?" A voice whispered. "Fucking narc showing up in here..."

Ryan recognized that voice. He raised his gaze and glanced over.

Kyle.

-

Wake up (we'll catch you) and face me (come one now),
Don't play dead (don't play dead)
Cause maybe (because maybe)
Someday I'll (someday I'll) walk away and say, "You fucking disappoint me,"
Maybe you're better off this way
--A Perfect Circle

------------

Sandy and Seth walked into the house with tired sighs. They'd left hours earlier, Kirsten finally agreeing to go to rehab after they'd threatened to leave.

Seth was devastated by his mother's visible instability. She'd cried the whole way to the clinic and she'd begged them not to leave her. All he wanted to do was crash out somewhere and let the past days' events settle in his head.

Sandy was drained, too. Seeing his wife in such pain, watching her lash out at everyone that cared about her…he was glad that she was somewhere safe. With people that could help her. He hoped.

"Where do you think Ryan is?" Seth yawned, absently hitting the button on the answering machine.

------------

Ryan didn't even have a chance to sit down before the boy closest to him pounced on him. He was already tired and beat down and he really wasn't in the mood for a scrap.

Once he caught his breath, he kicked backwards, his heel connecting with the bastard's nuts and rendering him stunned for an instant so he could get the upper hand. He elbowed the kid in the face and felt the kid's teeth slice into his arm as he pushed him backwards against the bed.

Kyle was headed for him but Ryan's adrenaline was pumping now and he was pissed off. Fighting in juvie was no joke and he didn't want to go to the hole, isolation that wasn't self-imposed was a fear of his since childhood. Ryan blocked his punch and pushed all his momentum forward, pinning Kyle against the wall by his throat.

He punched him, hard, in the stomach and watched as Kyle choked out a breath before increasing the pressure on his neck.

"Fucking spoiled rich punk, you think you can take me? You fucking want to try and take me, bitch?" Ryan hissed, staring in his eyes. "You obviously don't know who the fuck you're messing with so you might want to reconsider…"

The fear Ryan wanted flashed on the punk's face finally and Ryan pushed against him one last time and released him, shaking off his anger and keeping his hands in a non-threatening position.

He could hear both the kids panting but Kyle finally nodded his assent.

"Thank you. It's been a long fucking day," Ryan muttered, moving toward his bed again and sitting down with a heavy sigh.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?" Kyle whispered as the lights went out for the night.

The kid he'd kicked in the nuts was holding his crotch with one hand while he tossed them both cigarettes with his other one. Ryan let himself relax slightly. He'd proven that he could defend himself and they seemed to be slightly less antagonistic.

"The only reason I came after you was because my brother took the fall and he didn't do it. It was nothing personal, it was because he was my brother," Ryan said. He might as well lay all his cards out. He didn't know how long he was going to be stuck here.

"You fucked over his brother? That's not cool…but did you really narc him out?" the other kid asked.

Ryan nodded. "Believe me, I regret it now. In turn, my brother started fucking your girl and totally lost his fucking mind."

"Jess? Oh, she's a piece of work…bitch," Kyle muttered. "She's agreed to testify against me so she won't get charged."

Ryan nodded, not surprised and accepted the offered matches from him. He inhaled deeply off the cigarette and passed the matches on.

"I'm Eric," the other kid.

"Ryan. Sorry about your nuts," Ryan said evenly.

Both kids snickered but Ryan was too sore to smile.

"So, what happened to land you in here, man?" Kyle asked.

"Same thing that always does. My fucking brother."

------------

"Where is he now?" Sandy paused, scribbling something onto a napkin. "I want a copy of his statement and I want access to him immediately, I'm his legal guardian and his lawyer, you have no proof of his involvement and he invoked his right to an attorney, I want access now…"

Seth watched his father, awed. He had been in overdrive since getting the first mumbled message from Ryan.
His dad hung up the phone and held up the keys in his hand. "I have to go see a judge, will you be okay here?"

"I'm coming with you," Seth said, hopping off his stool.

"Seth…"

"Dad, it's Ryan," Seth stated. "We already left Mom tonight, don't make me walk away from Ryan, too…I'm coming with you."

------------

The lights woke Ryan from his doze. He hadn't slept; still wary of his cellmates despite their delinquent bonding session over contraband smokes the previous night. And his head was killing him, too. His back, his ribs, his wrist.

He hoped the doctor could at least give him some ibuprofen or aspirin to take the edge off. He needed to be on his toes and the pain was dulling his instincts, which were rusty to start.

"Up and at 'em for breakfast. Come on, punks, don't straggle, you've got ten minutes until we open your cages, be ready or you'll have to wait until lunch!" a booming voice announced.

"Fuckers," Eric muttered, sitting up.

"Damn, kid, you don't look so good…we didn't do that to you, did we?"

"Nah, all these were here on arrival," Ryan muttered, his limbs stiff and thick with pain as he sat up.

One of the guards approached their cell with a slip of paper in his hand. "Atwood?"

Ryan stood up slowly and nodded.

"Come with me, the doctor's got you first on his list, you can eat in the infirmary. The warden's going to let your lawyer in to see you," the guard said, warning Kyle and Eric to behave with a strict glare as he unlocked the cell

"My lawyer?" Ryan asked, walking out slowly.

"That's what I said. Get moving, to your left."

------------

The room was different from the other room that Ryan had seen the nurse in. This one had a single beige examining table and cabinets full of medications and medical supplies.

"Do I need to cuff you?"

"No, sir," Ryan answered quietly, signaling his submission with his lowered gaze and nod.

Several people filed into the room, a well-dressed woman in a white coat that he assumed to be the doctor, a man in a brown business suit and a big belly and then Sandy, looking rumpled and seething.

Ryan stood completely still but before he could process how angry Sandy was, the man embraced him roughly, tilting his aching head into his shoulder.

"God, are you all right? Did they hurt you? What happened to you?" Sandy whispered.

"Trey," Ryan managed, more relieved than he'd ever been in his life. Sandy wasn't angry with him. Sandy would do all he could to get him out of this place.

"Mr. Cohen…" the man in the suit started.

"I'm staying until we hear from the judge," Sandy snapped. "We don't need supervision, he needs a doctor, he needed a doctor last night, he's pale, he's shaking, he's obviously lost blood and he's hot to the touch, what kind of place are you running here where you don't provide medical care to your underage wards?"

"I would like a chance to examine him, Mr. Louis," the woman said, smiling at him politely.

"I'll be in my office, Mr. Cohen, I'll follow up on your concerns and let you know as soon as the judge contacts me. Jimmy, you can go fetch the boy his breakfast then go back to your post until the doc calls for you, all right?"

The guard nodded and hurried off behind Mr. Louis.

"Come on, Ryan, have a seat on the table and we'll get this started, just lower your shirt to your waist.

Ryan stepped away from Sandy and slowly sat down on the table. He unbuttoned the jumpsuit and pulled his arms through his sleeves, grimacing at the dark bruises that marred his body.

"Jesus…" Sandy whispered.

"These cuts…" the doctor asked, examining his back first.

"Glass," Ryan answered.

"Did you tell the cops anything?"

"I asked for my lawyer. They asked me a bunch of stuff, but I'd invoked so I didn't say anything, I didn't sign anything apart from my Miranda," Ryan replied quietly.

"Good…" Sandy nodded.

"What are they charging me with?" Ryan asked, closing his eyes as the lady pushed against his sore back with her fingertips.

"Pain?"

"Everywhere," Ryan replied honestly.

She put the stethoscope against his back and instructed him to breathe.

Sandy had stepped away, his phone against his ear.

"You need x-rays. Open your mouth," she said, pressing a thermometer under his tongue immediately. He was quiet as they waited for the beep.

She examined the display and tucked it away again after popping off the plastic coating. She pulled out a penlight and shone it in his eyes, startling him. She was all business. "Any vision problems?"

"No."

She nodded and gently lifted his arm, examining the harsh bruises before focusing on his swollen wrist. "Hurt?"

"Yes. Sprained at least," he said, wincing as she moved his hand and tested his wrist. He finally lost his breath in pain.

"Definitely broken," she stated finally, lowering his hand back to his leg. She went to a cabinet and began unlocking them, one by one.

"Ryan," Sandy said, recapturing his attention.

"Yeah."

"You okay?" he asked.

"How's Kirsten?" he countered, not wanting to lie to Sandy.

"Getting help. But I asked you first."

"Trey tried to rape Marissa. And I lost it on him…" Ryan stated, needing to explain himself.

"Wait. Not here. We need privacy for that," Sandy replied, but Ryan could see that he had heard him and filed the information away.

The doctor returned and held out a small cup with several pills inside and a larger Dixie cup with water. "For your pain and the swelling."

Sandy's phone rang in his hand and he answered it, stepping away again.

"Why don't you lie down and wait for your meal? I need to take your blood pressure and get some things together so I can give you a few stitches and maybe splint your wrist to hold you over until you get to the hospital."

Ryan nodded obediently and leaned back. He wondered when they'd put the cuffs on him again but Sandy was here for the moment and that was all that he could wish for.

----------------------------------------------------

The doctor hadn't been able to arrange for him to go to the hospital for his x-rays or the cast that he needed for his wrist right away and Sandy had to leave him to talk to the warden.

Ryan had hoped, half-heartedly, that they'd let him wait in the examining room until Sandy could tell him something.

But the guard had taken him back to the block as soon as he'd finished the toast on his plate.

Now, not only were all the punks awake and alert, he had a badge of weakness in his splinted wrist. Everyone would know that he was injured.

God, he hated being locked up.

"Everyone else is out in the yard but I have orders to keep you here in case your fancy lawyer comes through," the guard snapped. He slammed the cell door and locked it.

The drugs had made him drowsy, but he didn't want to let his guard down. If he fell asleep, the painkillers might make him harder to wake up, meaning easier to take advantage of. He sat down on his bunk with his back against the wall. He pulled his knees up against his chest and leaned his head back.

He could close his eyes for a little while.

Trey's true fucking colors shown through. Traitor. Just like his mom. Abandoning him. Hating him all this time.

Ryan had never realized that his brother was jealous. He should've known. They both stole a car. Trey got locked up. Ryan got a new life.

What the fucker hadn't realized is that if he'd had just kept his fucking cool, kept his dick in his pants and his nose out of the snow, he could've had a second chance, too. The Cohens would have helped him. Trey just couldn't see that, though.

Trey had an impulsive, trip-wire temper, just like their mom. Most of the time, Ryan was the opposite. He had a slow burn temper, like his dad. He tended to stew over stuff until the anger took over.

Trey and Ryan had fought like pit bulls when they were living in the same house. But Ryan had never considered that his brother hated him. Not really.

He was wrong. He knew that now. Trey liked to hurt. He liked to fuck things up and watch the damage fall. But Ryan knew now. And he'd be waiting. He'd get his revenge. For Marissa. For Kirsten and Sandy. He'd make Trey pay, even if it took the rest of his life.

Ryan pulled on the chafing collar of the jumpsuit to try and disguise the bruises as he heard heavy footsteps approach.

"This him?"

"Yep. Got a long ass list of charges, drugs, intent to sell, assault, got a record for grand theft auto, too."

Ryan narrowed his eyes to try and see who was speaking through the bars. He recognized the guard from the examining room and a couple of other men in uniforms.

"He already looks pretty beat up…when do you think his lawyer will get him off?"

"In a couple of hours probably, Warden's bustling around like his ass is on fire or something…"

"You sure we should do this?"

"It's the only way to make them learn…"

Ryan clenched his fists. This couldn't be good.

------------------- ------------------- --------------------- ------------------------ ---------------------
He knew he couldn't fight back. Sandy was going to get him out. If he got in trouble for assaulting a guard, if he laid a hand on any of them, he knew that it would only complicate things beyond even Sandy's control.

But he knew that something bad was going to happen to him. They'd stepped into his cell, cuffed him despite his fucked wrist and the three guards were walking him down an empty hallway.

He would have asked where they were taking him, but the first order they'd given him was to be quiet. He knew better than to try and say anything.

"We've worked in this place a long time. Seen a lot of things. Seen a lot of punk kids like you come in and out of here with no respect, no regard for anyone but yourselves. Rich fucking spoiled little brats…" the guard walking him hissed. "Your daddy's money always saves your ass…"

Ryan started to seethe. His daddy's money? Like these pricks knew anything about his father, his life…

"But you look like you've been around the block a few times already," he continued, shoving him painfully into an empty room. The walls were gray concrete and the floor bare cement.

The hole. Every Juvie had one. Solitary, soundproof. Inescapable.

Two men followed him in and one closed the door.

"We don't have much time but we're going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget, we're going to teach you a lesson worthy of real prison…"

"Sick perverts," Ryan whispered before they shoved him against the wall, slamming his face into the hard concrete.

"You better watch what you say to me, boy…they told us all about you…"

Who?

And then he knew. Kyle. There had to be a reason they hadn't gotten busted for smoking last night after lights out. The punk had an 'in' with the guards. And he'd used it to get his payback.

Ryan's body was screaming in pain as the guard landed a blow to his lower back as the other man held him against the wall, but he gritted his teeth to keep from crying out. That would only make them angrier. Or hornier.

He hadn't figured out if he was about to be fucked or beat down.

All he knew was that it was going to hurt.

------------------- ------------------- --------------------- ------------------------ ---------------------
"You have no proof that he had anything to do with what his brother was doing. No proof. The only reason you had for arresting him was assault, and as you could have clearly seen when you burst in, he was on the bottom, he was being assaulted. He's a juvenile, his record is clean, he's cleaned up his life and I won't let you keep him here for something he didn't do!" Sandy yelled, slamming his fist on the table.

The judge didn't seem upset, she closed the file and turned to the officer and his lieutenant. "Looking at the evidence, he's right. The boy's fingerprints were found in the apartment, but so were numerous other people's. His prints weren't on the gun or the drugs, they weren't even in the room where you found the drugs. What grounds are you holding him on?"

"None, now, I guess. Kid with a record in the middle of a fight in a drug dealer's house…we had probable cause to arrest him. Especially since we couldn't get in contact with a guardian or a lawyer. It might have gone easier on him if he'd just told us the truth…"

"You'd have locked him up anyway, as soon as you saw his record, the single misdemeanor offense that he's already served his time for, I want him out of here now. He needs medical treatment."

"Jacob, go get the warden, let him know to bring Mr. Atwood out and get him ready for release. Quickly," the judge said. She returned her attention to Sandy as the officer scurried off. "Are you going to file a complaint against the city, Mr. Cohen?"

"That's what you think this is about? I just want my kid back, Judge, I want him home and safe and out of danger. He's paid his debt to society, he's cleaned up his life and he doesn't deserve to be in this place. That's why I'm here."

The judge nodded, visibly surprised.

"But if he has a scratch on him that he didn't walk in here with…then you'll be facing a lawsuit."

------------------- ------------------- --------------------- ------------------------ ---------------------

"Damn, Jimmy, you got blood all over his jumpsuit, now we're going to have to get him changed…"

"I didn't know he was going to be all sliced up, you're the one that saw him with the doctor," the other guard snapped.

The boy was lying in the floor of the room, his jumpsuit pulled up to his waist now that they'd all had their turns punishing him. He'd passed out before Jimmy could have his second turn.

"You think this one was a good idea?"

"Kyle hasn't steered us wrong so far. Little bitch is good for picking out the snotty one," Jimmy said, kicking the kid roughly to try and get him to rouse.

There was a loud knock on the door and the watchman stepped in. "Just got a call from the warden. Wants this one upstairs now…"

"Now? How the hell…"

"There's a judge here, the fucking bitch is innocent…"

"This kid? Definitely not innocent," Jimmy remarked but he was already lifting the kid to his feet despite his unconsciousness.

"What the hell are we going to do?"

"Chill out, Dennis. Go down the hall and get us a clean jumpsuit and a washrag, we need to clean him up a little," Jimmy ordered.

He scurried off, making sure to lock the door behind him.

"You were saying about good picks?"

"Fuck you, Tommy, at least I don't get off on fucking the punks like you do, I'm just doing it for the lesson…"

"Whatever, you sadist," Tommy snapped. "It's all the same to them, isn't it? How are we going to wake him up?"

Jimmy slapped the boy hard across the face. No response except for a thicker trickle of blood from his nose.

"You know what? I'm getting the hell out of here, you're on your own with this one…" Tommy said suddenly, getting up and trying the door and cursing when he found it locked.

"Why this one? You didn't say that a minute ago when you were fucking him," Jimmy replied angrily.

"Because, it's pretty obvious he's not a little pretty boy like Kyle made him out to be, the punk's got scars all over him, and it's almost like he knew what to expect, none of the others have been like this," Tommy admitted.

"So, you really think he's innocent?"

Dennis returned with a fresh jumpsuit and a stack of towels. "The warden is fucking pissed, he wants him upstairs now…"

"What did you tell him?"

"I didn't tell him anything, he's chewing out Harvey in the yard as we speak," Dennis continued.

"Let's clean him up and get him out of here…" Jimmy said.

"He's going to rat on us," Tommy said.

"He's not going to rat."

------------------- ------------------- --------------------- ------------------------ ---------------------

Leaning over you here, cold and catatonic
I catch a brief reflection of what you could and might have been
It's your right and your ability
To become…my perfect enemy…

His hands were free.

But he knew what had happened by the pain flooding his body. The violation and the beating.

"He's coming to…"

Fucking Juvie. Fucking guards.

He'd seriously 'hulk out' on them if he though he could move.

He was fucking hurt.

"Atwood."

He opened his eyes and gave Jimmy the guard his hardest glare.

"You tell anybody about this…"

"About what? Your merry band of pervs?" he said, his throat hoarse. It hurt to swallow, let alone talk.

"He's gonna rat us out…"

Someone banged on the door loudly. "Open up!"

"Get up, punk," Jimmy snapped, grabbing his arm roughly.

Ryan didn't recognize his own cry of pain.

Shit. "Shut up…" Jimmy grabbed a handful of his hair.

There was a noise in the lock and the door to the Hole was open.

"What the hell, Jimmy? Dennis and Tommy? What are you doing in here with him? Atwood, are you…" Mr. Louis was pale.

Ryan glanced around the room and saw the evidence for himself. The puddle of blood. Ryan was still bleeding in his freshly changed jumpsuit and the damaged one was visible beside him. The used condoms piled on top of the bloody towel.

"He was violent and we had to subdue him," Dennis said almost robotically.

"I can't believe this. I…I've been the director here for twenty years, Jimmy…you've worked for me for ten…how long have you been…"

"Nothing happened, sir," Jimmy stated, flushed.

"You might be more convincing if you let go of the boy's hair…" Mr. Louis said.

Ryan's head was aching so much that the guard's release of his hair didn't affect the overloading of his pain threshold.

Mr. Louis slowly pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number. "Georgia? Bring Mr. Cohen and the judge down to the old wing, cell 25, and call the paramedics and the police, have them come with you…leave the boys in the yard another hour and then lock them all down, okay?"

"Carl…" Dennis started.

"No. I won't hear it," Mr. Louis said as a flurry of guards appeared. "Cuff the guards in this room and confiscate their things. Now."

The men were confuses as to why they were restraining their coworkers, but they listened to their boss. Mr. Louis walked over and knelt beside Ryan. "You okay?"

"No, sir," Ryan replied flatly. The guy had kind eyes right now but he knew better than to trust him.

This was a bad fucking day.

"Can you stand up?" He reached for his arm and saw his swollen wrist. The cuffs had fucked up the splint and Ryan's wrist was visibly broken and black with bruising.

"Get me the fuck out of here," Ryan said finally, forcing himself to move.

He shuddered at the man's hand on his arm, but he needed the support to stand. As soon as he was upright, he lost his breath and the room spun again.

4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42

"Are you fucking serious?" the judge yelled at the warden.

Sandy hadn't said a word yet.

"I didn't know," Mr. Louis repeated.

"It's on videotape!" she yelled.

"The tapes are monitored 24 hours a day…"

"A conspiracy that big and you didn't know it was happening…"

"Where is my son," Sandy stated, not asking.

"The paramedics are in with him, the police are holding the others down the hall…"

"This facility is officially closed pending a federal investigation, call your superiors and find placement for these kids now…"

Sandy stepped into the room and saw the cluster of paramedics.

He'd seen Ryan shirtless only a few hours before so he could see the fresh damage. The boot print on his side. The unnaturally bent hand. The ripped stitches and fresh welts.

One of the medics was snapping pictures and gave him a sympathetic glance. "It's better when they're unconscious, they get upset if they're awake for it."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"He needs x-rays. New sutures and…he's going to be off his feet for a while. But he'll heal."

"I want to ride with him," Sandy said and the man nodded.

He returned to the judge who was speaking into her phone. "He's a minor. No press, nothing with his name, no pictures…"

"Of course, Mr. Cohen. His identity will be protected, you have my word."

4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42

He woke up this time with an old lady smiling at him.

"Good morning, kiddo. I'll get your dad, okay?"

He felt better. Anesthetized.

Hospital. His wrist had an icepack taped to it and he was naked under the blankets and his paper dress.

He didn't even care anymore.

He was out of the hole and he'd make Sandy take him home. He needed a long shower and a lot of soap. Then his bed.

Sandy rushed in with Seth on his heels. "Ryan…"

"Long day, huh?" he said, forgetting his sore throat.

"You okay, man?" Seth asked.

He reached out his good fist to tap knuckles. "Better now."

"We're going to take you home as soon as they put the cast on your wrist, the swelling needs to go down a little more…" Sandy explained.

"Can you rush them?"

"Seth, go get his doctor, the blond one," Sandy said. He could tell that Sandy wanted to talk to him alone.

Seth hurried from the room.

Sandy pulled a chair up close to the bed.

Ryan could see in his eyes that he knew what had happened because he had that understated look of horror and pity on his face.

"Did you tell Seth?"

"No. That's up to you…will you tell me about it?"

Ryan studied him with tired eyes. "Looks like you already know…"

"I need to hear it from you…"

"Why? If you already know, then why do you want me to talk about it?" Ryan asked him.

Sandy watched him. "It's not the first time it's happened to you, is it?"

"I'm not going to have some kind of fucking breakdown, if that's what you mean," Ryan sighed. "I'd just prefer not to talk about it. It's over now. I'm not going to have to go back there, am I?"

"No, Ryan…"

"Then why talk about it?"

"God, Ryan…" Sandy muttered, his eyes flashing with emotion. "I am so sorry…"

"It's not your fault. It's not my fault. It's those pervs' fault…and Trey's fault. You did everything you could…" he sighed.

"Ryan…you need to talk about it. I'm…I want you to press charges, I want those bastards to pay…I don't want you to shut this down in the back of your mind…"

"Can we do this later?" Ryan asked. "Because I have had a shitty couple of days and I'd really like to stop talking about this right now…"

Sandy sighed deeply. "I know that you're trying to protect yourself, trying to make me not worry and hoping that I'm going to just forget about all this…but I can't. Those men…they took advantage of you, they hurt you and I swear to you…I'm going to make them pay for it…"

"Sandy…just…let's talk about it later, all right? Later, I'll…I'll tell you whatever you want to know but after spending the last few hours either unconscious or taking a beating, I really want to just enjoy these painkillers a while…" He was prepared to do anything to avoid this conversation. He knew that the damage of talking about it would be worse for his mental health than the actual abuse.

"Okay, kid."

"And don't tell Seth…he wouldn't understand and I don't want to be the one to explain it to him," Ryan said quietly.

"Fine," Sandy nodded, patting his good hand despite Ryan's instinctive flinch.

"Sorry."

"It's okay, kid."

Seth returned with the doctor in tow. "Orthopedist at your request."

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"Dad. Dad? Dad, you're freaking me out," Seth said as he watched his father pace outside Ryan's hospital room.

"Sorry. I just want him home," he replied.

"The doctor's putting the cast on him now, why don't you go get the car and get some air," Seth suggested.

"I…"

"You've already signed all the paperwork to get him released and you're really stressing me out right now. Don't stress Ryan out, too. He's okay and he's coming home with us and we're locking him in the poolhouse for at least a week so he can't get beat up anymore. I've got the air mattress all ready for a campout, I made Hailey blow it up before she left. Go get the car." Seth finally had to put his hands on his father's shoulders to stop him.

"Okay. I'll meet you out front."

"Good boy," Seth nodded, watching his father hurry away.

"He's all ready to go. Use the wheelchair to get him to the car, we don't want him on his feet any more than he needs to be," the doctor said, opening the door and letting Seth inside.

"Can do. You ready, bro?"

"So fucking ready. Where's your dad?" Ryan asked, seated in the chair with a fresh cast on his wrist and part of his forearm. His hand was going to be useless for a while.

"Meeting us out front. I feel like I'm bringing a soldier home from war or something, you're lucky Dad doesn't know where the ticker tape is…"

"You didn't tell your mom, did you?" he asked. Seth started pushing the wheelchair down the hall.

"Can't talk to her for 72 hours after she's been admitted. We've probably got another 36 or so to go before we can even get in touch with her," Seth replied.

"What are you going to tell her?"

"Are you not talking to her or something?" Seth replied. "I'm going to tell her that Summer and me are doing fine, I miss her and I hope she's okay. You can tell her what you want."

Ryan relaxed slightly in the wheelchair.

"So, are you really okay?" Seth asked.

"I'll be okay once I get home. What do the girls know?" Ryan asked.

"Marissa's at Summer's, they're both worried about you, they know you and Trey are both locked up…that's all I told them."

Ryan nodded.

Something was different about him, Seth could tell. But he wasn't going to grill him now about what happened in there. He'd tell him eventually. Seth would make sure of that.

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Ryan was fucking glad to be home. He opened the door to the car but didn't step out.

"You're going straight to bed, okay?" Sandy said, hurrying to his side of the car to help him out.

"Can I get a sandwich or something first? And a shower?" Ryan asked, accepting his hand to support himself as he got out.

"Of course, kid…"

"I'll make the sandwich, I'm starving, too. We'll eat in the poolhouse. Dad, no mustard, right?"

"Right, Seth. Thank you," Sandy said.

Ryan nodded his thanks as well. Seth was being entirely too non-inquisitive. Ryan was waiting for the shoe to drop.

"Let's go slow, all right? I don't want you to strain yourself anymore."

"I'm okay, Sandy. I can walk. I'm just…really, really sore," Ryan admitted.

Sandy didn't let go of his good arm and kept him walking slow. "I didn't watch the tape," Sandy said quietly.

Ryan stopped cold and looked at him. "There's a tape?"

"A security tape. Got the whole thing, apparently."

"Are you fucking serious?" Ryan blanched. It was all on tape. People were going to see him…like that.

"It'll never see the light of day, Ryan…"

"Fuck…" Ryan muttered.

"Ryan. No one has to see it…"

"But people are going to see it. They're going to see me…"

Sandy held his gaze. "Judge Thompson told me that your face is obscured the whole time…"

"It doesn't matter, Sandy," he sighed, starting to walk again. "Fuckers…"

"Ryan…I didn't mean to upset you, I just…"

"I'm glad you didn't see it, Sandy. I don't want you to see it. I don't want you to tell Seth or Kirsten, I'd appreciate it if you kept the whole…incident to yourself."

"I…I'll respect your wishes on one condition," Sandy said.

"Yeah?"

"You talk to me. When you're ready…" Sandy said slowly.

"I already told you that I would…" Ryan replied.

"I know. But I want you to mean it…I don't want you to think you have to get over this all by yourself…I'm here…"

"I know," Ryan nodded as they finally reached the poolhouse. He stepped away from Sandy and turned. "I'm going to take a shower before I scratch my eyes out."

Sandy nodded.

"Just…wait for me? I'll think about what you need to hear…" Ryan said before going into the bathroom with a handful of hastily grabbed clothes.

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Sandy folded down the covers on the bed. He went to Ryan's mini-fridge and got two bottles of juice. He took sandwiches and chips from Seth and ordered him to bed. His son was too tired to even argue about the inflatable air mattress and listened to him for once.

Ryan stepped out of the bathroom finally dressed in a pair of drawstring pants and no shirt. Sandy was relieved to see that he'd managed to keep his cast dry and still get clean.

"I could take a million showers and it wouldn't really change that I feel dirty," Ryan sighed, staggering slightly as he took a step.

Sandy immediately went to his side and steadied him carefully, ignoring the flinch at his contact.

"I'm going to be jumpy for a while…"

"Don't apologize, I don't blame you," Sandy replied, quietly.

"Not speaking from personal experience, though, are you?" Ryan said.

"No. It's never…" he couldn't finish. He couldn't fathom what had happened to Ryan. Under his watch. Under his protection.

"That's why I'm so pissed off at Trey, because he has personal experience…he knows what it's like to be fucked against his will…for him to do that to Marissa…he's a fucking coward just like his father…"

"Your father…"

"Is a bastard. Fresno was hell," Ryan whispered, sitting down heavily on his bed.

Sandy was silent and finally Ryan continued.

"It isn't the first time, Sandy. I'm sorry, but it's not. My dad…until he went to jail. He'd punish us in front of mom, make sure we were good and stunned…and in the night, he'd come into the bedroom. He liked me more than Trey…so Trey just had to keep his mouth shut and stay in bed, we shared a room…He knew…he knows…Rape…it's the one thing I won't forgive," he said, his blue eyes cold. "Trey's dead to me."

"How old were you?" Sandy whispered, too stunned to think freely.

"Old enough. It was better when I got to Chino. But you'd be surprised how many men consider…that…as an appropriate punishment. It wasn't the last time. Mom never knew and Trey got the hell out of dodge so I don't know if…if it ever happened to him after Fresno."

"Ryan…"

"I won't talk about it. No one knows. Just you. And Trey. Not Teresa or Marissa or anyone else. It's not something I'll ever talk about, even with a shrink. I got through it. I got over it. Now this…" Ryan hesitated. "I don't want to think about what this is going to do to my brain, Sandy…it took a lot for me to be a functioning member of society and not a piece of sniveling trash…"

"You are not trash and I doubt you know how to snivel," Sandy replied.

Ryan smiled sadly. "Thanks. But I can snivel with the best of them."

"Here." Sandy held out his sandwich and Ryan accepted it, taking a bite.

They both ate in silence, digesting their conversation so far.

"I'm taking the meds. To prevent HIV, just in case. It might make me sick but it'll keep me from being infected in case…in case the fuckers gave me something," Ryan said, passing his empty plate back to Sandy.

"I'm glad." Sandy put their plates aside and reached out, putting his hand against Ryan's face tenderly. "You're too important for me to lose right now."

"I'm not going anywhere," Ryan replied, not pulling away. He closed his eyes and sighed. "I'm so fucking glad I passed out…"

Sandy was stricken by the thought that the men had used Ryan while he was unconscious.

"I just want to forget about the whole thing…I want the fuckers to pay, but I don't want to get up in court and speak my nightmares aloud…that'll just give them that much more power over me…" Ryan whispered.

"We'll figure it out. I won't make you testify. I'll make sure the tape's protected…"

"Don't watch it, Sandy. If you respect me at all…"

"Don't worry, kid. I won't. I…I'm glad you told me…everything. I know it was hard…"

Ryan's blue eyes bored into his. "I never told anyone, Sandy. Do you realize what that means?"

Sandy nodded. "You can trust me."

Ryan's eyes changed color, dulling as he lowered them. "I'm going to pass out if I don't lie down."

"Do you mind if I…"

"Keep the monsters away? You don't have to, Sandy. But if it'll make you feel better…feel free," Ryan said. He slid his feet under the covers and didn't protest when Sandy pulled the covers over him.

"Kirsten and I talk about how we never got to tuck you in when you were young," Sandy said quietly, pulling his chair close to the bed. "All those years when we didn't even know you…we didn't get to see you taking your first step…getting your first haircut…we didn't get to teach you how to ride a bike or drive a car…"

Ryan's eyes were closed but he smiled faintly.

Sandy continued, wanting to relax him into sleep. "You're a son to us, even if you don't believe it. We don't deserve you but we love you and we're not planning on letting go of you for a very long time. I learn more about you every day, how strong you are, how smart and caring, how much you've overcome…I love you more every day…"

Ryan's chest was rising and falling and Sandy could tell he was asleep. He leaned back.

"Sweet dreams, kid."

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Seth answered the phone groggily, searching for coffee with his other hand. God it was bright. "Hello?"

"Seth?"

"Hey, mom, how are you doing?"

"I'm fine, honey…"

"Don't say…"

"I'm much better, Seth. Sober. For the first time in a long time. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Mom…"

"Really? I'm sorry for having to leave…"

"Mom," he said seriously. "You needed to go. I'm the one who should be sorry. For this summer and for not seeing…for not seeing that you were hurting."

"It's not your fault, Seth, I didn't want you to see…"

He could hear her crying as he walked outside. His dad must still be in the poolhouse.

"I'm glad you're getting help. We miss you around here."

"Is everything okay? Any news I should know about?"

Seth shook his head before remembering he was on the phone. "No, no, everything's cool. Me and Summer…we're trying to get serious again."

He could tell his mother was smiling as he walked into the poolhouse. "That's great, Seth. She's a special girl."

"I know."

His dad was asleep on the air mattress, sprawled out in his rumpled suit. Ryan's head wasn't even visible under the mound of blankets on his bed.

"I know you want to talk to Dad, can you hold on a second?" Seth asked.

"Sure, honey."

Seth put the phone down and leaned over, shaking his father gently until he woke up. "Mom's on the phone."

"What time is it?" Sandy asked, reaching out his hand.

Seth handed him the phone. "Afternoon."

His dad took the phone and sat up, speaking into it softly before walking outside.

Seth walked over and examined his best friend's bed.

Ryan's blond hair was visible but he was buried under the covers.

Seth didn't want to wake him. His curiosity would have to wait. He saw the small community of prescription bottles on the nightstand and sat down in the chair, picking up the pamphlets. He didn't want Ryan to fall over because of some freaky side effect and him not know what happened.

He'd made it through the first two when his father stepped inside and called his name. "Seth. Put them down."

"What?" Seth asked, confused.

"The pamphlets. Put them down and come out here," his dad ordered.

Seth was too curious to argue, something weird was definitely going on. He closed the door to the poolhouse quietly.

"Seth, what the hell were you doing?"

"I was seeing what medicine Ryan's taking, so I wouldn't do anything that would make him, I don't know, have a seizure or something…what's your deal?" Seth asked.

His father flushed. "Sorry…but, you can't read those. I'll tell you whatever you want to know, you don't have to read those."

"Why can't I read those? They're just medication instructions, they aren't going to tell me anything about what happened to him…" Seth snapped. His father was scolding him when he hadn't done anything wrong.

"Seth…it's complicated. This whole mess is complicated…" Sandy said.

"Dad, there's something you're not telling me. You're lying to me. Why don't you want me to see what medication he's taking?"

Sandy hesitated. Finally, he lowered his voice and stepped forward. "The doctors are making him take antidepressants and he's upset about it. He doesn't want you to think he's…unstable or anything and he asked me not to tell you…"

Seth stared at his father. "You're lying. It's not that. Why are you lying? You didn't tell me that mom was a drunk and now you're lying to me about Ryan…Dad, I want to know. Now"

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Ryan sat up slowly, blankets piled on top of him. He was still cold. He'd had nightmares all night but he had been too exhausted to wake up from them.

He remembered when his father left. Ryan hadn't slept for more than four hours a night when his dad had lived with them.

The first night his father was locked up, his mother took him and Trey out to eat at a Chinese buffet restaurant. They stayed until the place shut down.

Ryan had been scared. His father was a bastard, a truly cruel man, but he'd kept them safe so far from the outside elements. He didn't know what his family was going to do now.

That night he'd shivered in his bed with Trey watching him from across the room. Finally, Trey got out of bed and walked over, lying down with him on top of the blankets.

"It's okay, buddy. I'll keep you safe now, okay?"

Ryan had felt safe. His brother. Trey kept him safe then.

Ryan hadn't done well for a few months, he rarely talked, rarely ate and spent a lot of time in bed or doing chores. His mother considered his silence an insult for a long time, she never considered that his withdrawal was a sign of anything other than a tantrum.

He didn't want to do that again. He didn't want to be that cowardly little victim.

But he didn't think he could get out of bed today. The sun was just too bright and his head hurt and he was freezing.

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