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Best Forgotten 30

I give up. Trying to rewrite the lost (last) chapter of this story is driving me crazy. I can't remember exactly what I wrote or how I got to the end, and now the silly, endless epic is stretching out even more. Conversations and scenes snuck in here that didn't exist before, but now I can't seem to get rid of them and I've decided to stop trying. So here's what I've got for now. And, sadly, it ends with another TBC.

Disclaimer: The standard: the characters aren't mine, but the melodrama and overwriting are. Proceed at your own risk.

Best Forgotten 30

“Ryan’s family is here.”

Lucy recognized Felix’s voice. She even noted the broad smile that creased his face, but his words seemed to whip past her, like leaves in a wind tunnel. She couldn’t quite catch them. Dazed, almost afraid to believe what she had heard, she repeated the words: “Ryan’s family is here?”

Felix nodded. His grin widened. “Yes,” he said. “They are.”

At once a gust of pure relief surged through Lucy’s body. Every one of her muscles, tense and primed for defense, suddenly relaxed and she reached for Felix’s outstretched hand, clearing the entrance as she slumped against his side.

The instant she moved, a teenage boy pushed past her and bolted inside in the room, tootling like a bugle. “Ryan! Dude,” he caroled. “We’re here! The Cohen cavalry has arrived!” Gesturing wildly he pointed at the man and woman who crowded behind him, almost stepping on his heels.

Seth, Lucy told herself, gripping Felix’s hand hard. And Kirsten and Sandy. Finally, yes. Ryan’s family is here.

Too thankful to speak, she stood back, silent, as they rushed in. It didn’t matter. The Cohens didn’t even notice her. Oblivious of her presence—ignoring everything except Ryan--they hurried toward the bed. Seth tripped over nothing, banging into a metal cabinet in his eagerness. He didn’t care, did not even pause. His dimples flashed, and he continued to babble an incoherent greeting, but Lucy’s gaze slipped past him. It fastened on the adults.

She wanted to see them, these people Ryan trusted with his life.

Sandy especially. Lucy needed to know the man. “Just call Sandy,” Ryan had pleaded, reciting his phone number over and over, mumbling it even when he was half-conscious, as if the number was magic, an incantation that would return him to himself.

Lucy did not know what she expected, but the man who raced into the room didn’t resemble a wizard or even a hero. He looked rumpled, worn with worry, and profoundly tired. At the same time, Sandy’s eyes sparked an intense, electric blue, and his whole body radiated an almost feral tension. Even so, something about him warmed Lucy. Perhaps it was the way his gaze softened, glowing moist the instant that he caught sight of Ryan. She saw Sandy swallow and start to smile. Simultaneously, instinctively, he tightened his grip around his wife’s waist and placed the other hand on his son’s back, supporting them both as they approached the bed.

In that moment, Lucy recognized Ryan’s Sandy. She could feel the immediate sense of strength, of surety and safety that he conveyed.

Kirsten, though—the woman desperately clasping Sandy’s hand seemed to share none of those qualities. She almost vibrated with anxiety. Waif-thin and tremulous, her eyes looked hollow, and her skin stretched white over brittle bones. Even when she neared Ryan . . . Lucy watched closely, confused. She could see something melt in Kirsten’s face; it grew soft, aglow with mute joy as she caught sight of him, yet the tenderness that suffused it remained tinged with fear. Or perhaps, Lucy puzzled, that shadow is not fear at all. Perhaps it is some other emotion, darker and harder to dispel. She inclined her head, wondering, while across the room, Kirsten stumbled and clutched Sandy tighter.

The gesture made Lucy’s heart ache.

Kirsten reminded her of broken things, of torn leaves and eggshells, and tiny shards of glass.

In a strange way too, she reminded Lucy of Ryan.

At the same time, she thought suddenly, so does Sandy.

Lucy started at the realization.

How can they be only his foster parents? she mused. There is so much of Ryan in both of the Cohens: his strength and vulnerability, his wary reticence and his courage.

It seemed impossible to her that he was not really their child.

Well, Lucy chided herself, that is because it is impossible. The Cohens are Ryan’s real parents. They have searched for him. Ryan trusted that they would come, and they now they have done that. They are here to take him home.

The word “home” echoed in her mind and Lucy’s eyes filled. Blinking to clear them, she watched as the Cohens clustered around Ryan’s bed.

She wished so much that he was awake to see them.

“Okay, I know we’re late, dude,” Seth was babbling happily, “but it wasn’t exactly easy to track you down. We’ve covered, like, every inch of this stupid city, we’re here now so--”

He stopped abruptly, recoiling and rocking back on his heels, as it all registered: Ryan’s wan, shuttered face, his body lying still, and unresponsive.

For an instant, nobody spoke. They simply stared at Ryan. His head was turned to one side, his chapped lips slightly parted, his skin white as the sheets that covered him. Only dull purple bruises on his temples, wrists and arms disturbed that uncanny pallor. Only the slight rise and fall of his chest suggested that Ryan still alive.

Kirsten caught her breath. Her hand, trembling, flew to her mouth. A small, strangled whimper, muffled behind her palm, broke the heavy silence. It hung in the air, echoing.

Then Sandy edged closer to the bed. Leaning down, he chucked Ryan’s chin gently. “Hey kid,” he said. His eyes looked grave, but his voice sounded hearty, the same indulgent tone he used to call the boys for dinner. “It’s good to see you. But siesta hour is over, okay? Ryan? It’s Sandy. Can you hear me? Come on, you must have heard Seth shouting before. And you know how he is. He’ll just keep talking and pestering and annoying us all until you wake up. So how about you right now and save us the grief, okay?” Sandy gave Ryan’s ear a light, playful tug, but Ryan didn’t react. “Come on, kid,” he urged. “We need you here.”

Glancing up at Seth, Sandy gestured for his son to join them.

Seth licked his lips. Awkwardly shuffling forward, he cleared his throat twice. Even so, his words emerged hoarse, strained and forced when he spoke. “All right, one, I did not shout,” he claimed. “That, Dad? Is an outright slander. I simply called out a greeting in an enthusiastic but completely acceptable call-out-a-greeting tone. And two, I do not pester and annoy. I just, you know, keep the conversation flowing and lively and—feel free to tag in any time, Ryan. Back me up here, okay?” Making a fist, Seth bumped his knuckles against a fold of Ryan’s sheet almost, but not quite, touching his hand. “I mean, we all know you’re a man of few words, so we’ll settle for one right now. Or just a glare. How about that? A shut-up glare would be good. Come on, dude. Just . . . wake up, okay?”

The Cohens waited as if Ryan might reply, but he didn’t stir.

Kirsten took a shuddering breath. Her hand, still shaking, slipped down to touch his forehead. She stroked it slowly, smoothing back his hair, skirting an angry red area beside his left eye. “Oh Sandy,” she whispered. Her gaze, clouded with anxiety, flashed a plea to her husband before it fixed on Ryan again. “Look at him. He seems so . . . lost . . . and hurt . . . so far away. I know they didn’t go through with the operation, but what if we were too late anyway? What if—if he doesn’t wake up?”

Across the room, compassion and empathy flashed across Lucy’s face. Slipping away from Felix, she stepped closer to the Cohens and coughed a soft reminder of her presence. “You must not think that, Kirsten. Ryan,” she promised. “It is just the anesthesia. It will take some time to wear off.”

At the sound of Lucy’s voice, the Cohens whirled around, almost in unison. They stared at her for a moment, uncomprehending. Then Seth let out a triumphant whoop. He loped across the room and before Lucy could react, he threw his arms around her. “Lucy!” he exclaimed, engulfing her in a fierce, exuberant embrace. “We forgot you were here! Wait—you are Lucy right?” He took a half step back, barely allowing her to nod, before he smothered her close again. “Of course you are! And you? Are my hero!” he cried. “You are amazing and wonderful and smart and did I mention amazing? I love you, Lucy!” Laughing, Seth allowed her to catch a stunned, wordless breath. “Will you marry me?” he asked, hugging her again. “We’ll have to wait for a while—say at least until I graduate from high school—but Ryan will be our best man—Oh! and we’ll have to have the wedding in Utah or somewhere else that allows polygamy, because there’s this girl, Summer Roberts, and she doesn’t know it yet, but I plan to marry her too. You, though? Will totally be my number 1 wife!”

Seth loosened his grip, beaming, as Lucy blinked up at him. “Oh, by the way, I’m Seth Cohen,” he added belatedly.

Behind his son, Sandy shook his head wryly. A low chuckle simmered deep in his throat. It warmed his face—warmed the whole room—and Lucy, peering at him over Seth’s shoulder, realized that the creases bordering his eyes, ones carved deep by fear and worry over the past weeks, actually had begun as laugh lines.

It made her smile to see them.

Sandy stepped forward, his amusement channeled into a rueful sigh.

“Enough, Seth. Let the poor woman breathe,” he ordered. “Lucy, you’ll have to forgive our son. He has a tendency to be overdramatic sometimes. Although in this case I can’t blame him. Seth is absolutely right. You are amazing and wonderful and smart and if I weren’t already happily married, I’d propose to you myself.”

Peeling his son away from her, Sandy wrapped Lucy in a brief, grateful embrace. She blushed, overwhelmed and embarrassed. As soon as he released her, even before she could straighten her shirt or smooth her tousled curls, Kirsten took his place. She had lingered behind, hovering close to Ryan’s bed, but now she caught both Lucy’s hands in her own icy ones.

Unlike Seth’s impish grin or Sandy’s playful expression, Kirsten’s mouth still pinched tight at the corners.

“Lucy, we can’t ever thank you enough,” she murmured. She glanced over at Ryan. Still clasping Lucy’s hand, she edged back to his bedside, as if drawn there automatically as she spoke. “If it hadn’t been for you, if you hadn’t contacted us and stopped the –the operation before--”

With a shudder, Kirsten turned away from Ryan. All the fear, the muddled emotions of the past weeks, welled up in her eyes. Instinctively, Lucy rubbed her hands, warming them. Then, moving with deft gentleness, she eased Kirsten into the chair beside the bed and stepped aside so Sandy could slip into her place. He nodded gratefully. Standing behind his wife, he kneaded her shoulders as she sat, stiff and erect and motionless.

“You should talk to him, Kirsten,” Lucy suggested. “Let Ryan know you are here.”

Kirsten bit her lips. She lifted one hand. It hovered, trembling slightly, over Ryan’s forehead before it fell again, limp, onto her lap. “I don’t know what to say.”

His brows furrowed, Sandy glanced down at his wife. “Anything, sweetheart,” he urged. “Tell him about . . . about the special home-cooked dinner we’ll have as soon as he gets home.” A cloud of concern darkened his face even as he leaned down to ruffle Ryan’s hair and add a hearty, “How does that sound, Ryan? I’ll grill, Seth will toss the salad, and Kirsten will pour the drinks. We won’t let her near the food. Come on kid, we’re waiting. Join us. We can’t have a family reunion until you’re awake.”

At the phrase “family reunion,” Seth loped over to join his parents. He cocked his head, frowning as he studied their tense expressions. Then he plopped down in the other chair. Nudging Ryan’s arm with his elbow, he mustered his most enthusiastic voice. “True enough, dude,” he declared. “Besides, you’re missing the excitement here. I am—wait for it now—engaged! Not to Summer either. At least not yet. I proposed to Lucy. Although . . . come to think of it, I didn’t hear a ‘yes’.” Seth heaved a dramatic sigh. “Guess that means you’re turning down me down but you’re just too polite to say a flat-out no, right, Lucy?” Without looking at her or waiting for Lucy to reply, Seth nodded dolefully. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He hitched his chair closer to the bed and sighed again. “Rejected yet again, dude. Okay, so I guess I’m not sorry you missed that moment of humiliation but let’s face it: I could use some Ryan Atwood way-with-the-ladies pointers. So feel free to wake up any time. Like now. Now would be good.”

“Lucy said it would take time, Seth,” Kirsten reminded him.

“Yeah, but she said that like, three minutes ago. That’s time, isn’t it Lucy?”

Lucy chuckled softly. “I’m afraid I meant a little longer than that, Seth. And I want you to know, I am most flattered by your marriage proposal. It is just that we have known each other a very short time. Besides, your heart is clearly set on that young lady, Summer. And I am afraid I do not believe in polygamy.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Seth shook his head. Even though he was speaking to Lucy, he kept his attention focused on Ryan. “Never mind. It’s okay. I’m used to rejection. So we won’t get married. I guess I’ll settle for being president for life of your official fan club--” Leaning forward, he rapped Ryan lightly on the wrist. “Unless, of course, you want the office, dude. Tell you what, I’ll challenge you for it. Two out of three, rock, paper, scissors. Here we go, Ryan—one, two, three, shoot!”

Making a fist, Seth pounded the air three times before flashing his fingers in a V. Ryan remained unresponsive, his hand flat and inert on the sheet. “Okay, scissors cuts paper so that’s one for me,” Seth declared. “Although I’ve got to warn you, bro, if you don’t switch it up, I’ve pretty much got this game. Okay Ryan? You were warned. Ready, one, two--”

A current, alive with bubbles, rippled over Ryan, tickling his skin. He could feel the air change around him, stirring the curtain of darkness. The sounds in that vast black had changed too. There seemed to be more of them, closer and tangled and more insistent. He could still hear the cinnamon-scented one, but now other voices spilled over it:

A cantering babble with a kind of bright, citrus tang.

A firmer voice that felt strong, deep and resilient, like roots in clean soil.

And softer, a bit distant, delicate, wafting tones that beckoned him, that hinted of springtime, of buds about to bloom.

The sounds threaded around Ryan, weaving intricate patterns, drifting and returning, but always, always, repeating those same two syllables.

A breath out, a breath in . . .

They echoed in the air, pinpricks of light he could almost see.

Ryan tried harder to hold them, to float on the breaking wave of those sounds.

“Seth, stop!” Kirsten’s tone reproved her son, but a faint smile tugged at her pale lips. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Lucy chuckled softly. “No, I think Seth is doing the right thing,” she said. “We do not know how much Ryan may hear, but talking normally, even your laughter—it may comfort him. It will help him realize that it is safe to wake up.”

“Safe,” Kirsten echoed. Almost shyly, she reached over to caress Ryan’s face. At first she just rested her palm on his forehead, a mother checking her child’s temperature, warming his clammy skin. Gradually she grew more comfortable. Her hand skimmed down his temple to trace his cheekbone and circle gently around his ear.

Then Kirsten froze. Her fingers jerked away as if stung. She inhaled sharply, her face dimming as she stared at the spot: shaved and exposed, ready for incision. Confused. Sandy and Seth followed her gaze. A shocked, silent moment passed when they realized what she had seen. Then Kirsten took a deep breath. With a visible effort, she straightened her spine. Bending down, she touched the bald spot again, timid, barely making contact, but slowly growing surer, calming and comforting. Her eyes cleared, and she moved closer to Ryan. Strands of her hair brushed his, pale sunbeams on sand, as she leaned down. “It’s all right, sweetie,” she whispered. “You are safe, I promise. Can you hear me, Ryan? We’re here now, and you’re safe.” Her fingers continued to move, smooth and soothing. Without pausing, without looking up, she added quietly. “But I can’t bear to think what would have happened without you, Lucy.”

“Then do not think of it,” Lucy urged. “Think only of the fact that you will take Ryan home soon.”

Kirsten traced the line of Ryan’s jaw with her thumb. “Home” she murmured absently. “We will . . . Lucy, do you have any children?”

Lucy shook her head. “Not yet. I hope I will someday.”

“I hope so too. You’ll be a wonderful mother.” Kirsten’s eyes never left Ryan’s, but she reached over to clasp Sandy’s hand. He squeezed it in response as she added fervently, “And if your child is ever in trouble, I hope he finds a Lucy to help him.”

Lucy made a soft sound of demurral. “I believe Ryan would wish for him to find a Sandy and Kirsten.” Seth coughed, and she chuckled, amending, “And of course a Seth too.” Then her voice grew serious again. “Ryan never doubted that you would come if only you could find him,” she continued. Her words came slowly, low and grave. “It was his faith in you that gave him the strength to survive. He has had to deal with so much. Not just what he faced here . . . Sometimes when the doctors questioned him, when they had given him drugs or he was only half-conscious, Ryan told them things about his past . . . painful things about his childhood. He does not know that I heard . . .” A shadow flitted across Lucy’s face, and she busied herself straightening Ryan’s sheet before she looked up at the Cohens. She smiled then, tenderly. “But one thing he does know,” she concluded. “It is, I think, the great truth in Ryan’s life. He knows how blessed he is to be part of your family.”

All three of the Cohens had exchanged troubled glances at Lucy’s mention of Ryan’s childhood, but even though Seth’s mouth popped open, it instantly clamped shut again, and he swallowed hard. None of them asked her to explain. Instead, Kirsten just said quietly, “And we’re blessed that he had you here.”

“True that,” Seth agreed promptly. Anxious to dispel the cloud of solemnity, he mustered a blithe, playful tone. “Tell you what, Mom, I’ll put you down for secretary of our official Lucy fan club. Dad, how do you feel about being sergeant-at-arms? It’s kind of a Ryan position, but I’ve got him slated for the VP slot.”

Ruffling Ryan’s hair, his other hand still holding Kirsten’s, Sandy grinned across the bed at his son. His smile widened to include Lucy too. “I’d be honored,” he declared.

“But you all give me too much credit,” Lucy protested. “Do not forget, I had much help from Felix.” She glanced fondly at the orderly, who stood silent, legs braced and arms crossed, positioned like a sentry in front of the door. Then, eyes dark with affection, she gazed back down at Ryan, still unconscious and oblivious to the muted celebration surrounding him. “And I could not have done nothing at all without Ryan,” she declared. “Even when nobody believed in him, even when I did not, he never gave up. He is a fighter, your son, Mr. Cohen.”

Sandy raked back his hair. He exchanged a rueful glance with Kirsten. “We know. In fact, we’ve been trying to break him of the habit. But we’ll have to make sure Ryan knows there’s a self-defense exception from now on.”

“Yeah,” Seth said. He frowned dubiously. Wincing, he touched spots on his own face that mirrored the bruises on Ryan. “Kinda looks like he lost a few battles here though. Somebody landed a few hits. But who would do that? I mean, Ryan was a patient right? Don’t they have that whole Hippo-do-no-harm pledge at this place?”

At the door, Felix shifted uncomfortably. He flushed, his swarthy skin mottled with shame. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I did some of that. We weren’t trying to hurt him, though. The doctors said Brandon—Ryan—was a danger to himself. They said we had to restrain him for his own protection, but Ryan—he wouldn’t let us do it. He wouldn’t stop struggling, no matter what.”

“Yeah, that’s classic Kid Chino.” Seth nodded with satisfaction. Then he glanced at Felix and shrugged. His sheepish grin absolved both of them of blame. “Sorry if I made you feel guilty, man. We know none of this was your fault. It was all gra--”

Sandy’s eyes flashed a warning. Suddenly aware of what he was about to say, Seth stopped mid-syllable.

It was too late. Kirsten’s face froze, “Dad,” she concluded tonelessly. Her voice vibrated, a violin string plucked too hard. “Everything Ryan has gone through—it was all my father’s fault.”

Shuddering with anguish, she pulled away from Ryan. Her arms fell to her lap and her fingers knotted together, compulsively twisting her rings. Sandy covered her hands with his, stilling the frantic movement.

“Yes. Your father,” he said firmly. “But not you, sweetheart. You’re not responsible for what happened.”

Kirsten shook her head. She stared up at Sandy and then back down at Ryan, her eyes a desolate blue-gray. “Yes, I am,” she insisted. “I idolized him, Sandy. My father—I never saw the man he really is. If I had just realized what--”

“No, Mom. Come on,” Seth injected. “That wasn’t just you. I mean even Dad and me—we joked about Grandpa’s overlord tendencies, but none of us figured he could--”

There was a sudden sound, a short rasp and a click. Then the door opened. Cold light spilled into the dim room, startling Seth and Kirsten, stunning them all, into silence. Sandy sprang up, instantly vigilant, even as Felix turned, trying in vain to block the entrance.

A sudden wave crashed over Ryan. The darkness that cushioned him contracted and tumbled, gray and then black and gray again. It wheeled him with along it and he stretched out, reaching for something to keep his balance.

Ryan’s index finger twitched. It jerked up, just once, stabbing the air, but the Cohens and Lucy had all turned, intent on the door. They did not see him move.

TBC. Again.


( 18 comments — Leave a comment )
Sep. 20th, 2011 02:30 am (UTC)
Yeah! They're finally reunited - now wake up fully Ryan!
Sep. 25th, 2011 01:17 pm (UTC)
Next chapter, I promise.

Thanks for reading.
Sep. 20th, 2011 03:17 am (UTC)
And, sadly, it ends with another TBC.

Sad for you maybe, but not for me since I love your stories and this means that there is, at least, one more chapter to look forward to. And unlike George RR Martin, I know it won't be 6 years until the next part. : )
Sep. 25th, 2011 01:20 pm (UTC)
I'm so pleased that you're still enjoying this stretched-out saga. And yes, I think I can manage to update without a 6 year delay!
Sep. 20th, 2011 06:11 am (UTC)
I'm sorry to be rushing and I apologize for being semi-coherent, but it's the end of a very long day and a new one's starting in a matter of a few hours. How did that happen again?

Thanks so much for the do over. I know you've been the victim of the pandemic global 'puter conspiracy. Not only did you recreate, but you added more and posted before the end of the month.

Lucy so deserves marriage proposals, a genie with 3 wishes, and a chance to concoct a very humiliating, painful, unforgettable exam and "treatment" for Caleb. Felix should have his own rewards coming.

I was wondering if a Seth would grasp the real gravity of Ryan's condition and situation and just how much of his own behavior could/would be attributed to fear- not relief, and being overwhelmed, uncertain and uncomfortable when confronted with just the sight of Ryan, even an unconscious Ryan. I think the same applies to all the Cohens, who've been so caught up in the twists and turns of the journey to be prepared for the end result. One look at Ryan and where he is would be step one. Trying to envision what has gone on for him to be there and look like he does would be another step towards processing everything. The glaring site prepped for the incision was a wake up call and a giant step closer to the unspoken and unsettling truth that they'd won the critical part of the battle, but Ryan was far from unscathed. There couldn't be a quick fix and out the door for MUCH faster return trip. Caleb didn't get exactly what he wanted, but he came close in more ways than almost having the surgery performed.

You've incorporated some very fitting words from Lucy in particular. She's an original character that you've introduced with thought and care and her voice and expressions are very much in keeping with her persona. She continues to quietly command my full attention without ever raising her voice or saying more than necessary with her rare and special dignity. Although we were seeing Ryan through the others' eyes and hearing him through Lucy's voice, he wasn't absent. You also give him another kind of presence just at the end- leading to the next chapter.

Thanks again!
Sep. 25th, 2011 01:28 pm (UTC)
Do-overs are horrible! (shudders) At least this taught me to take my own advice and back-up everything. (And it did give me an excuse to buy my new MacAir, which is wonderfully light.)

Anyway, thank you for all your kind words about this chapter. I'm especially pleased that Ryan was still present for you since I realized that for a main character, he's been absent from this story (physically or at least in terms of consciousness) a lot! And I'm so glad you like Lucy. I've enjoyed writing her.

As always, I appreciate all your thoughtful, supportive comments. Thanks so much for sticking with this story.
Sep. 20th, 2011 09:41 am (UTC)
Personally, I'm fine with a TBC - especially after such a wonderful chapter. Lucy's impressions combined with the Cohens' reaction - sigh. Just great.

Now we just need Ryan to wake up, Cal to drop dead, and the Cohens to go home - maybe they can take Lucy with them?
Sep. 25th, 2011 01:34 pm (UTC)
Thanks for all your kind words. As for your wish list . . . Hmm. I don't know about Cal dropping dead (although it is an appealing thought) but your suggestion about Lucy is intriguing. After all, she probably will need a new job after all this is over. :)
Sep. 26th, 2011 08:59 am (UTC)
See, that's just what I was thinking. Lucy will need a job, and Ryan will need nursing care for the foreseeable future (as opposed to being just fine, like on TV)......
Sep. 20th, 2011 03:19 pm (UTC)
Ooh the bit we've been waiting for!! Yay! Love it. Thanks so much for this, can't wait for the next bit :D
Sep. 25th, 2011 01:37 pm (UTC)
Thank you for reading and responding! I'm working on the next part (and saving it on a flash drive just in case!)
Sep. 24th, 2011 04:17 am (UTC)
Kirsten reminded her of broken things, of torn leaves and eggshells, and tiny shards of glass.

In a strange way too, she reminded Lucy of Ryan.

Yes, exactly...and yet, both much stronger then that.

And now, my dear chaz....bring this on home.
Sep. 25th, 2011 02:16 pm (UTC)
bring this on home. That's the goal, Chic!

and yet, both much stronger than that.

Stronger indeed. And I think Lucy will recognize this too.
Sep. 28th, 2011 02:21 am (UTC)
yay, another chapter! another cliffhanger, but not nearly as cruel as usual ;) excited for the next bit (where Ryan wakes up and Cal gets his, right?)
Oct. 1st, 2011 01:32 pm (UTC)
Cal gets his what? (*bats eyes innocently*)
Oct. 9th, 2011 10:32 pm (UTC)
Sorry! The anonymous comment was me! I forgot to sign in. I'm too tired to re-write it though. Let's just say I'm finally caught up with the story and it's very awesome and I'm happy the Cohens are finally reuinited with Ryan! And Lucy and Felix are God-sent and... I bet poor Ryan is really gaunt and malnourished. I wonder how much weight he's lost since the Cohens last saw him. Emotionally he must be damaged, but it'll be interesting to see how he reacts to the Cohens when he wakes up. And you left it on a cliff hanger! How evil yet again! :D And I hope evil Caleb rots in prison for life for what he did to poor Ryry. That's all for now. :-)
Dec. 4th, 2011 09:32 pm (UTC)
Dec. 15th, 2011 11:27 pm (UTC)
Yay on this end that you read and responded!
( 18 comments — Leave a comment )