Thanks to ctoan for organizing the Season Four Missing Scene Challenge
Thanks to brandywine421 for the super-fast beta.
Rating: Suitable for all, despite the man-handling...
It should be obvious where in the episode these scenes are set.
Missing Scene from "The Gringos"
"Seth set me up, didn't he?
"He called. He was worried."
"Come on, let's go home."
"Why? So we can pretend that everything's like it used to be?"
"We all miss her. It's never going to be the way it used to be, but we are still a family."
"You don't understand. He's here."
"No. He's gone."
Seth staggered slightly as Ryan barged past him, catching his shoulder with the edge of his own. He winced at the burning sensation underneath his t shirt. His freshly created tattoo began to throb again as it had done when he'd woken up earlier and the alcohol induced anesthetic had worn off.
"Ryan!" His father's words were fruitless as Ryan disappeared without a backward glance through the screen door entrance. Seth remained motionless as his dad raced after him.
His mother stood rubbing her hand up and down her arm, a habit Seth knew she used in moments of anxiety.
"So what are we going to do now?" His mother's voice was edged with exhaustion as well as worry and Seth remembered how neither of his parents had slept for two days.
"Mom, let's get a hotel room and crash for a while. There's no point us going after Ryan, too. He certainly won't speak to me again for a while, if ever, and no offense, but you don't look your normal waspy self. We'll text dad and tell him what we're doing and he can come find us once he's talked to Ryan. If he gets a chance, that is."
Kirsten looked puzzled.
"I thought you already had a room? Where did you stay last night?"
Seth shook his head dismissively.
"Yeah, El Royale, only not so much fit for royalty as you might suppose. I wish Summer could have seen it. She'd never believe I could have found a motel room worse than the one we stayed in on our way to TJ."
Seth stopped abruptly and reflected on the irony of the situation. Marissa issues and bad motel rooms just seemed to go together.
His mother interrupted his thought processes.
"I think you're right, Seth. We can't do anything for Ryan right now, and if your dad had lost him I'm sure he would have called us straight away. When we were trying to find you both, your dad and I passed quite a nice place by the marina. Hotel Coral, I think it was called. It looked clean and smart which is more than I can say for a lot of Ensenada. Let's try there. I could do with an extremely hot shower and a large cup of coffee."
"Ryan, wait up!" Sandy struggled to keep pace with a kid who was half his age and running on nothing but his anger.
It was midday and the sun's glare was relentless. Sandy had to squint to keep his eyes from watering and he cursed his decision to give his sunglasses to Kirsten for safe keeping when they'd entered the gloom of the bar.
The streets of Ensenada were heaving. People ambled along the sidewalks as if they had nothing better to do than get in his way. He pushed past a large gaggle of old timers standing watching a soccer game at the window of a store and ignored the guttural shouts of abuse that followed. A scraggly group of American teenage girls, still clearly partying after the night before, their hair bedraggled and make up smudged, giggled as they almost collided with him. A comment from one about older men and getting laid met with more giggles and "Ew!"s. Sandy was in too much of a panic to pay them any attention. He could still see Ryan just ahead of him, his blond hair standing out amongst the sea of dark Mexican heads, but he was moving faster and the distance between them was increasing with every second. Sandy's shirt was beginning to cling to him. It had been the cool of the night when he and Kirsten had set off and he hadn't thought to bring a lighter top with him. He pulled the sleeves up his arms as far as they would go in an effort to get a little cooler and wished desperately that he had time to grab some water. Hopefully Ryan would get thirsty too. No one could cope without rehydrating regularly in this heat, not even someone on a mission like Ryan's.
"Ryan's never going to forgive me."
Normally Kirsten would poo poo such a comment from Seth. But this wasn't a normal situation, and she didn't want to second guess anything Ryan would or wouldn't do. She brushed the small plastic comb she'd got from the reception area through her wet hair. It was amazing what a difference a little hot water and soap could make to how one felt. The situation was no better than it had been on their arrival an hour before but she felt better able to cope with it. There had been no word from Sandy in all that time but she looked on that as a good thing. If anyone could convince Ryan to come home and leave this ridiculous vendetta behind him, then it was Sandy.
"Try not to think about it too much, Seth. You did what you had to do and I'm proud of you. You're a good brother and Ryan knows that deep down, even if he's mad with you now."
"I ratted him out though. And to the 'rents. How low can a brother sink?"
Kirsten smiled and tousled her son's hair affectionately.
"For someone who acquired a brother late on in childhood I think you're doing a pretty good job as a sibling."
Seth sat down on the corner of the bed and grabbed the TV remote. He flipped through the channels idly. CNN flashed up and he left it running with the sound muted.
Kirsten finished her hair and joined Seth on the bed. They both focused momentarily on the screen, where a speeding car chase was being filmed by a traffic helicopter hovering above. It was odd watching without the inevitable frantic voice commentary and the pounding whirr of the helicopter blades.
"Do you know where Volchok went?" she asked suddenly.
Seth shrugged and aimed the remote at the flat screen.
"I didn't ask. I suggested he turn himself in, that dad could help him, make sure he was safe and stuff, but he just threw his clothes in a bag and said he'd keep running till Ryan found him."
Kirsten sighed. Unless Sandy could pull off some spectacular feat she couldn't see Ryan resting until he found him, and Kirsten was too scared to think past that point.
Her phone began to buzz from its position on the nightstand.
He stopped to grab some water. He had a bottle inside his back pocket and he figured the few seconds delay would not make much difference. The water slipped down his throat and erased the dry dust at the back of it. He shut his eyes and wiped the sweat from his brow and eyelids with the sleeve of his jacket.
Without warning the bottle was knocked out of his hand and fell to the ground, water cascading down the denim of his jeans and seeping through to his skin. His back was rammed against the concrete of the wall he'd been leaning against and a hand was gripped firmly around his neck. He swallowed and felt his Adam's apple grate across the palm of his assailant.
"Just where the hell do you think you're going?"
His body went limp as the adrenaline drained out of him and he struggled to stay standing.
He opened his eyes to face his guardian, the pair of familiar deep brown eyes boring into him.
"You think you can take me?" Bravado took over and he laughed at Sandy mockingly.
"You know I know I can't. But you won't fight me," Sandy challenged.
Wordlessly, Ryan reached up and took Sandy's hand from around his neck.
"I'm not going back," he stated flatly.
"You'll do as you're damn well told."
Ryan cocked an eyebrow. He was almost amused.
"I'm not fifteen any more, Sandy."
"And this is what adult Ryan does, huh? Hunts down a criminal and takes the law into his own hands? This is what growing up in our family has taught you?"
Ryan's head dropped.
"Of course not," he muttered.
"Then come home."
Sandy put his hand on the boy's shoulder and lifted his face up to look at him.
"I promise you," he continued, "I will do everything I can to find him and bring him to justice."
Ryan nodded slowly. Sandy could say what he liked but it didn't change anything. This wasn't what he wanted. He didn't care about justice, at least not the kind Sandy was talking about, but Volchok would be out of Ensenada by now anyway, so really, what choices did he have?
The End. Or, cut to…the journeys home in the cars near the end of The Gringos!