Author: Morgan R.
Email: [email protected]
Rating: PG
Summary: Ryan becoming part of the family
Spoilers: Nothing recent
Feedback: I'd love it almost as much as the wristcuff
Disclaimer: Not mine. I have to keep reminding myself that. Fictional.
Note: Love, LOVE the Ryan discussion thread on TWoP. It gets me thinking- which
leads to writing, which leads to this.
****
Kirsten has to find quiet ways to give Ryan gifts. She would love to put her arm around his shoulder and take him to Fashion Island, buying him ridiculously expensive clothing in absurd quantities, but knows any attempt at such an excursion would fail miserably. He'd shut down and be quietly humiliated, and she wouldn't be able to ignore his desperate eyes.
She'd love to give him her credit card and tell him to get whatever he wants. She wishes he would take it and buy all sorts of things- boots to replace his old ones, his own swim trunks (not that Sandy misses the pair Ryan uses), maybe even a surfboard so Sandy could share his passion with his prot�g�. She would enjoy getting the statement and knowing that Ryan had spent $67.32 at Barnes & Noble. She wants to give him the financial freedom he's never had, but knows that if she gave him her card, he would thank her quietly, store it in a drawer and never use it.
The one time she had boldly bought him clothing, she took precautions- more underwear than he could wear in two months, enough socks to make a chorus line of hand puppets. As for the pants and shirts, though she wanted to spring for as much luxury as possible, she quelled that impulse, knowing he would find a way to thwart it. Instead, she bought everything on sale so that she could claim taking anything back was impossible, and told him it had been last minute and not at all planned. He was quiet and a little broken when he looked at all the bags on his bed, and though his gratitude was real, Kirsten knew she couldn't ask him to accept so much the next time. Ryan was used to burdens, but not of this variety.
She has to be more subtle, and though he might sometimes suspect, she's almost certain he won't say anything.
****
Ryan's backpack was lost in the fire, and Kirsten wants to get him a new one. That will not happen, of course, so she has to invent a scenario where Ryan will take the backpack to help her. That way, instead of a burden, he's being accomodating, which seems to be his most important goal.
He finds her on her knees as she digs through the hall closet, and she's modestly pleased with the irritated sigh she gives for his benefit.
"Need help?" Ryan asks, and she smiles up at him as she pushes her hair out of her eyes.
"Hey, Ryan. This closet is just a catch-all for things people have forgotten about. I could probably throw away everything in here, and no one would notice."
He joins her on the floor, sorting shoes and tennis racquets with the slow, deliberate movements he uses in everything he does. She tells him about the progess in the development, the troubles with her new contractor, and he smiles in all the right places. He makes a few wry comments, and his easy, teasing smile makes her throat constrict a little. She thinks Dawn must cry every time she remembers.
A pile gradually grows between them. Shoes with no mates, hats too shredded to wear, a ski jacket that hasn't been worn in three years, and a blue backpack Seth never used.
"Seth!" she calls, knowing he's been waiting for his entrance. Making Ryan one of them is a team effort, and someday they'll tell him about the lengths they went to for the sake of his wary nature. But for now-
"Seth, do you use this backpack?"
He makes his perplexed face as he takes it out of her hand. "When did we- oh, I know. I didn't like the padding on the strap, so you got me the black one, remember? It was like, two years ago."
Kirsten rolls her eyes. "Padding dilemmas. How could I forget?"
"Aren't those usually for girls?" Ryan asks.
Seth swats his shoulder. "Shut up, dude. I don't have to stand here and listen to this. I could sit, or lounge, even, if I felt like it. And Mom, I hate to inform you of this, but your nefarious plot to saddle me with an overpadded backpack has failed miserably. You'll never take me alive!" He darts out of sight, and Kirsten laughs.
She tosses the backpack aside as she stands up. "I guess I can put that in the box we'll be taking to Goodwill- unless, Ryan, could you use a backpack?" She tries to sound nonchalant and uninterested, straightening ski poles and hoping, hoping...
"Sure, I guess. Thanks."
"No, thank you for your help with the closet. I've been meaning to do that for months, but I always put it off. Hey- Sandy wants to meet us for dinner tonight. What do you think- seafood or Italian?"
She doesn't care, herself. She's a little dizzy from the adrenaline.
****
After buying the watch, she takes it home and gives it to Sandy. "Wear this for a few days," she says, and he smiles and holds her close. He knew what Ryan would be for her before she did, and she's grateful that he didn't let her reluctance stand in the way.
It's on Friday, as she watches her three boys clean up after dinner, that he gives her a nod she hopes Ryan didn't notice. "How's the new watch, sweetie?" she asks, and Sandy rubs his wrist apologetically.
"Well... no, it's fine. Great!"
"Smooth, Dad," Seth murmurs, and Ryan hides a smile.
Kirsten walks over, snagging Sandy's hand in her own for examination. "What? What's wrong with it?"
"It's nothing. It's stupid, really."
"Sandy," she sighs, running her thumbs over his wrist.
"It doesn't beep," he whines, furrowing his brows as beseechingly as possible. "I need a watch that beeps. It reminds me of things and helps me get the attention I crave."
She punches him in the shoulder and laughs as she undoes the strap. "Fine- tomorrow I'll make sure to as the saleslady for the loudest watch in the store. Preferably one that plays the Mexican Hat Dance, is that conspicuous enough for your tastes?"
Sandy shrugs. "I'd prefer La Cucaracha, but whatever you can get is fine."
She tosses the watch on the counter, slipping her arm around Sandy's waist. "Does either of you boys need a watch? There seems to be one available."
Seth looks up from putting glasses in the dishwasher and grins. "Um, I'm fine, but I think Mr. Atwood could use his own timepiece. He has been rather absurdly tardy during the past week."
Ryan gives him a quizzical glance, and Seth gesticulates wildly. "Yeah, you give me that look, but we were supposed to play my new game at noon yesterday, and you didn't show up until 12:13. That's what I call careless, my friend."
"I'm still learning all the social graces," Ryan replies, a hint of a smile on his face.
"Excuses, excuses." Seth picks up the watch and tosses it to Ryan, who catches it instinctively. "I've just given you the gift of time- guard it wisely."
At some point amongst all the teasing, the watch disappears into Ryan's pocket, and Sandy gives her arm a squeeze.
When she sees Ryan wearing it a few days later, she bites her lip to hide her smile.
****
Ryan will never let them pay for his college education. He's bowed to their insistence that they pay for him to attend school with Seth, but high school is mandatory, and Ryan's mental categories of necessity and luxury are clearly marked. She's almost certain that he would rather go to a community college than let them spend a cent on his tuition, and she's not going to argue with him.
It just seems easier, somehow, to set up her own foundation and create a scholarship program.
The criteria for receiving the scholarship is very specific. Parents missing or dead, time spent in some form of foster care, some criminal background which is left behind for the sake of academic excellence. The young woman who received it this year lost both her parents in a fire and turned to shoplifting to provide for herself and her younger brother. They were split up in foster care, but she had a teacher who helped her keep in touch with him via email. She went on to become an honor roll student, and she will be using her grant to attend USC. Ryan will meet her when he is awarded his grant, and she will tell him about the opportunities it has afforded her, and neither will know Kirsten had anything to do with it.
Kirsten will tell him someday. He'll hold back tears and maybe hug her, and then he'll become involved in selecting the candidates. He will choose wisely and know their hardships, and they will adore him.
Kirsten already does.
****
When they first decide he's going to stay, Kirsten wants Ryan to live in the house with the rest of them. She doesn't want him to feel removed and exiled, and she thinks that the poolhouse must have that effect in some measure.
When she takes him on a tour to choose a bedroom, however, she begins to realize that the empty rooms are unoccupied for a reason. Serviceable as guest rooms, but harder for Ryan to make his own.
The room across the hall from Seth's is lovely, decorated in muted golds. It has a gorgeous view and an extremely soft bed.
It is the room where Kirsten's mother died.
Another room is next to the head of the stairs, and is filled with cream colored furniture. Black and white photographs of Kirsten's first trip to Paris adorn the mantel, and bookshelves cover two entire walls.
It is the room where Kirsten's sister stayed the last time she got out of rehab.
Between her home office, Rosa's mending room, Seth's old playroom filled with all the toys he refuses to throw away, the room where Sandy sleeps when Kirsten kicks him out of bed, and her father's room, their mansion suddenly seems crammed full of time and backstory.
It wouldn't be a problem if she could just shut up about it, but Ryan seems so interested and hungry to hear about a family history other than his own that the words keep spilling out of her, stories about Seth's first video game and the time her sister registered for some college classes before disappearing again. She can see him storing the information away, assimilating the new knowledge and feeling bashful that she's willing to share.
"So, what do you think? Which room would you like?"
He scuffs his feet on the carpet, not meeting her gaze. "I think- I'd just as soon stay in the poolhouse, if you don't mind."
This is what she was afraid of, and she carefully touches his shoulder. "Ryan, I don't want you living there because you feel like you don't merit a room in the actual house. You're not a visitor anymore- this is your home."
He smiles then, and it's brighter than she's used to. "No, I get it. It's just- I'd rather not disturb the memories, y'know?"
She blinks, and this is why she should have kept quiet. "Ryan-"
He runs a hand through his hair as he laughs. "I'm saying this all wrong. I mean- maybe in ten years, you can show someone the poolhouse and tell them I lived there. Nobody else has lived there yet, right?"
She nods in surprise. "Right. Yeah- you're sure?"
"I'm sure. And thanks for the offer. It's- well, it means a lot." He ducks his head and jogs down the stairs. Kirsten leans against the wall, thinking about all the things she'll buy for the poolhouse, because he might demur at personal effects, but he can hardly deny her the right to decorate a room in her own house. She thinks that she should buy Ryan a laptop and make up some excuse that it's required for school so that he has no choice but to accept it.
She thinks that someday she'll hold him close and promise she won't ever send him away.
She hopes it will be someday soon.
****
fin