Author's Note: Okay, so I guess you could say this is my second story in my "Cliched Plot Series" although it really has no connection to my previous story Too Cool for School. With this story, I took the common plot of Seth returning to Newport after his Season 1 boat trip and tried to make it as soap operarish as possible. Admittedly it's not that bad, as I don't really know how to write something like that, but I'm trying my best. Hope you like it. Can't promise that I will update with any regularity as I'm pretty busy, but I will try to keep up with this story at a steady pace. And for any of you who read this read my other story, thanks!

Seth was tired. But then he had been tired for most of his life.

He reached for the protruding knob atop the overworked toilet and pressed it down. With a whoosh, the toilet vacuum flushed, spraying blue disinfectant and fresh water into the abused plastic bowl.

He turned his hands to the sink and winced slightly when the bus bounced upwards causing his hands to ram into the metal of the faucet. He finished washing his hands as best he could considering his location and wiped his hands dry on one of the few remaining paper towels. He looked at his reflection in the smudged mirror, trying to see some resemblance to the boy he used to be. But the silver was cracked and he hadn't been that boy for a long time.

He had wanted to shave, but his haphazard beard was too thick to shave with the 99 cent plastic razor he had picked up at Walmart three weeks ago. He didn't have any shaving cream anyway. He ran a hand across his face and sighed. He looked like a bum, a homeless troubadour.

He turned around and opened the door of the bathroom, stepping out into the aisle between seats. There was a low hum, as people talked back and forth. The Greyhound bus was about a quarter full, but that was enough to make him feel lonely. He couldn't remember the last time he had carried on a conversation with anybody just for the hell of it. Small talk was a dying art as far as he was concerned.

He marched to his seat and sat down. He was only somewhat relieved when he found his duffel undisturbed. It wasn't like he had anything of actual material value inside of it, so he wouldn't have been financially devastated if it had walked away on him. Still, it contained all his worldly possessions and he didn't want to lose it if he could help it.

He closed his eyes and let the rhythm of the bus passing over the road lull him into a kind of meditative state. Not quite asleep and not quite awake, he thought about what he was doing. He still wasn't sure if this was a mistake.

It had been eight years since he'd last been home. He wasn't even sure if he could call Newport home anymore. He had been away from it almost as long as he had lived there. Would his parents even want to see him? Would Ryan?

Ryan. It had been so long. He missed his brother. He missed his mother and he missed his father. He missed her maybe more than anyone. Hell, he even sometimes missed Marissa Cooper. Only when he found himself drinking, alone, in a dive bar at one in the morning, did he find himself missing his life. That was when he was allowed to feel sorry for himself. That was when he was allowed to think of what might have been.

He didn't regret it though. Not really. Oh there were times, where he lamented how things turned out, but he always drank those thoughts away. For once in his life, he had made a decision that he didn't regret. A decision he was almost proud of. It had been hard, and he'd almost not done it, but leaving home at 16 had been the best thing he could have ever done for his family. He still believed that. Even if they'd never understand why.

He felt himself jarred into awareness as the bus ran over an especially nasty pothole. Caltrans seriously needed to get their act together. He couldn't believe how many times he'd thought he'd permanently bruised an appendage while traveling the roads of America. He stared out his window, watching the orange groves whiz by at 70 miles an hour. He was still at least three hours away from Newport, and every mile he moved closer, he felt himself grow closer to an anxiety attack.

He was going home. Home. He didn't know how to act. Was he supposed to be calm? Afraid? Happy? He didn't know and it terrified him. It was home, why was he scared shitless?

He pulled his jacket tighter around his body, suddenly feeling cold. He didn't even know if everyone still lived at the old house. He wasn't sure what he'd do if they weren't there. Would he just give up and go find himself a nice alley to while away the rest of his days? Maybe he'd finally give life a chance.

He still remembered the night he left as clearly as a crisp Newport morning. In many ways, in his mind, it had only happened yesterday. He had gone to see her. He knew he had scared her; he could see her surprise and fear even through the shadow and faint moonlight.

He had been waiting on her front steps. He wasn't sure how long he had waited, but he had waited for her his whole life, so one night didn't seem too much to ask for. Her date had dropped her off; it was like 11 or 11:30, Seth had never been entirely sure, but he still remembered clearly how he had thought how lame it was that her date didn't walk her to her front door. It was unromantic, it was unsafe. There could have been some psycho hiding in the shadows, just waiting to pounce on her unsuspected. Like he had.

She had been fishing in her purse for her house keys when she had looked up and saw him sitting in front of her. She had startled, let out a gasp, and took a step backwards. Seth knew how it must have seemed. Just sitting there, alone in the dark, waiting for her. It wouldn't have been so bad if she hadn't done her best to cut him out of her life. Before she might have thought it kind of sweet, albeit really really pathetic. Now it was creepy, it was bizarre, it was scary. People had made fun of him all his life about his supposed stalking of Summer Roberts, and for the first time, he figured they had a leg to stand on. But that was okay with him, because after tonight, she'd never see him again. So what did it matter if he confirmed every suspicion about him?

"Jesus, Cohen." She relaxed slightly, which made him relax in return. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you." It made him happy to see that she didn't seem to be as frightened of him as he thought she would be.

"In the middle of the night? Are you stalking me now?" She joked and laughed, but it was a weak laugh and Seth could plainly hear the skepticism and apprehension in her voice.

She had nothing to worry about. He was sure she knew that, deep down wherever her heart resided, but he couldn't blame her for being freaked out. He wasn't exactly acting normal, even for him. "Don't mean to scare you. I just wanted to see you."

"It's late. You couldn't have waited till tomorrow?" She took a step closer, her natural curiosity getting the better of her.

Seth leaned back, deeper into the shadows. He didn't want her to see his face. How it was bruised and bloody. He shook his head, sucking in a quiet breath at the waves of pain that attacked him at the harsh movement, but he fought them down. "Sorry, couldn't be helped."

They both became quiet after that. He hadn't been alone with her for many weeks, months even. Not since the beginning of the year. In some ways, he had nearly forgotten what it was like to just be in her presence. But he could never really forget her, no matter how much time they spent apart. This little foray was just to shore up his memories. And he had just wanted to speak to her one last time. "I just want to tell you that you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. And you always will be."

Summer sighed and took another step closer. She moved into a group of shadows, making it too dark to see the annoyed frown on her face clearly, but Seth knew it was there anyway. "Look, Cohen, I thought we talked about this. You need to move on."

Seth dismissed her comment with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry, this isn't about that. I just wanted to tell you that one more time."

"Um, okay, well thanks I guess." There was quiet again and Seth heard the honking of a horn in the distance. "Do you think I can get into my house now? I'm tired."

Seth nodded his head. "Of course." He stood up. He had done what he had sought out to do. He'd seen her face, her body, even smelled her faint perfume. He'd told her she was beautiful. He was done. He slowly moved down her steps, giving her a wide berth. He might not have cared if she thought he was a crazy psycho, but he didn't want to scare her too bad by getting close to her. She had made her feelings toward him abundantly clear; he just hoped he had done the same. He passed her, as she was going up, turned his head away from her, and finally reached the sidewalk. He started walking away from her house.

"Cohen, wait." Her voice was soft and beautiful and he froze. He had always been a slave to her wishes.

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

He was genuinely surprised that she could sense something was wrong with him. She had done her best to close herself off to him, and she had never been that interested in his feelings to begin with. "I'm fine."

"You sure?"

He sighed and lowered his chin to his chest. He wouldn't turn around. If he did, he'd probably lose all his resolve. He was so pathetic. The slightest bit of interest paid to him and he was ready to just throw away all his plans. "Thank you." She'd never know how much it meant to him to hear she cared, if even a little bit, if even it was the kind of compassion she'd express for some stranger she met on the street. That was all he could say and he started to walk again. She didn't say anything, didn't walk after him, she just let him go. Just like he wanted.

He had gone straight to the harbor and climbed aboard his boat. It had been stupidly dangerous to take the Summer Breeze out to sea at night, but Seth had never been one to think intelligently when he was in one of his moods.

The bus jarred him again and he focused his eyes on the back of the seat in front of him. A little boy, about six, was running toward him down the aisle. He appeared to be chasing a plastic ball and Seth smiled at the kid as he ran by. The kid smiled back distractedly but quickly refocused on his task.

He checked his watch. It was one of the few relics he had from his Newport days. It was a simple, rather cheap thing, which probably explained why he'd never hawked it before. It just wasn't worth enough to pawn. It along with Captain Oats were the only things he truly valued. He'd probably die to protect both, which he thought was rather pathetic. Die to save a plastic horse? He chuckled to himself at the thought, but knew it was true regardless.

It was time to take his medication, as he liked to call it. He couldn't afford real pain killers, so he reached into his pocket and pulled out a little baggie of generic knock-offs and popped four of them at once. The pain was getting worse; he had to take the pills at ever narrowing intervals. He was building up a tolerance, and he had no idea what he was going to do when the pain pills weren't enough anymore. He'd probably turn to alcohol again.

He checked his watch a second time. Still had a little more than two and a half hours to go. At least the pills took the edge off his anxiety.

He stepped out of the bus terminal and into the crisp ocean air. He ignored the looks from people walking by. He was used to them by now. He actually laughed and grinned, which only increased the glances sent his way. He looked like one of those Vietnam vets in the movies, with his unkempt beard, unruly hair, dirty skin and clothes that looked like they came straight out of an Army surplus store, which they had. He even had an olive green rucksack. He amused himself with thoughts that they probably envisioned he was crazy, talking and laughing to himself, on the brink from PTSD, and would snap at any passerby at any second because they reminded him of Charlie. Of course he was much too young to have ever been in 'Nam or any war for that matter. But he didn't mind playing to fears and stereotypes, especially in a place like Newport, where practically everybody came with preprogrammed judgments of normal behavior and attire.

He took a deep breath and felt himself smile. He had already set toward the beach. He couldn't help it, it felt good to be home. He felt some tension leave his body immediately, but he didn't relax. He hadn't relaxed in years, not since he'd been in St. Louis. He moved through the throng of people, still getting the occasional look, and ignored the passing cars and fading sun. He had decided that seeing his former home away from home would be good preparation for doing the real thing. It had been so long since he'd been on a California beach, let alone a Newport beach, that he'd forgotten just how incredible they could be.

There was something about walking along the beach, at twilight, that really affected him. He wasn't sure if it was the softening light, or the cooling wind, or the fact that the beach was more deserted at twilight than during the day, but it felt like a special experience that only he had.

It took him a while to reach the beach, but it had been worth it. He rolled up his pant legs and slipped off his boots. He had long ago traded in his beloved Chucks for shoes more practical to his rougher lifestyle. He hung the boots over his left shoulder, while his duffel rode along his right, and dug his toes into the moist sand. It was the greatest thing he'd felt in years. He walked along the tide line, looking out toward the ocean.

He couldn't help but think of why he was in Newport after all this time. He just wanted to see his parents one last time. Most importantly, he wanted to see Ryan one last time. They had not parted on good terms and he felt a deep compulsion that he could no longer ignore to make amends with his brother. He couldn't end things with Ryan hating him.

It was all so stupid. He had never grasped the gravity of what he was doing when he spent that night with Theresa. He knew that Ryan would be pissed, that he'd probably even hate him, but he had thought, mistakenly of course, that Ryan would be able to move past it after a while. But that had not been the case. It had been Ryan that had bloodied his face the night he saw Summer. It had been the disgusted and disappointed faces of his parents that still made it hard to sleep at night. But he didn't regret what he'd done. Not really. He still thought it was the best thing he'd ever done in his crappy life. How pathetic was that?

Ryan was huge now. A successful architect with his own firm at only 24; of course it helped to have the backing of the Newport Group, but he was still considered a success by any meaningful level. Seth had a scrapbook of all the articles, blurbs, anything related to Ryan, buried deep in his duffel. He had been compiling them for a few years now, and it was easy work. In no more than two years Ryan had made quite a name for himself and it was not uncommon for Seth to pick up a newspaper and see an article about the potential new vanguard of a new architectural renaissance in America. Ryan was no Frank Lloyd Wright, but Seth figured he had the potential to have the same kind of impact. But he may have been biased in that regard. Honestly, he just loved reading about how successful his brother was becoming.

Seth took no small amount of pride in believing he had played a large part in his brother's success. If he hadn't convinced Theresa to never tell Ryan about her pregnancy, Ryan may have never gone to college. He'd never have pursued his dream; he'd have been stuck in some aimless job breaking his back when he should have been exhausting his mind. At least that's what Seth had thought, those eight years ago, and he still occasionally held that thought to this day.

Of course now most of his confidence had long dissipated. Too much had changed, most of it negatively. Now he was pretty convinced he should have stayed out of it, let Ryan make his own choice, and not try to force Ryan into a situation where he didn't have all the necessary information. Things could have still turned out just as well, and his own life might not have sucked so much. But hindsight was 20/20 and it had taken nearly eight years of harsh reality to make Seth mature enough to reach that conclusion. That it wasn't his place, that he had been too self-involved to make a decision like that rationally. That he shouldn't have made it in the first place. He didn't regret that he'd done it though, not really, the results spoke for themselves, and even if his life was terrible, at least Ryan's wasn't. And that had long ago been enough.

He was finally here. It had taken eight long years, but he was finally home. He shifted his duffel from one shoulder to the other; his nerves were getting the better of him. He wasn't sure what to expect. He desperately hoped his parents would answer the door. He prayed they'd be happy to see him, that they wouldn't slam the door in his face or question why he was back. If it was Ryan, he figured it was a crapshoot. He was afraid Ryan would just hit him and refuse to let him inside. But it had been a long time, maybe it was true that time heals all wounds.

Before he could convince himself that this wasn't a good idea, he knocked confidently on the door. There was no immediate response, but that was to be expected. The house was so damn big, it was like trekking five miles just to move from one end of the house to the other.

After waiting for too long, he reached and pressed the doorbell. This time, he got a response. He heard a muffled voice from inside, he assumed telling him to wait. He didn't have to wait long as the door swung open.

Standing in front of him was honestly the last person he had expected. She was still as tall as he remembered, with slightly longer hair, but still the same golden color. Her features had matured a bit, and she was still beautiful. "Marissa?"

Marissa looked at him with a blank look on her face. It was clear she didn't recognize him. "Do I know you?"

What a loaded question. He hadn't thought he looked that different. He was like an inch taller, he was bigger, harsher around the edges and even with the beard, he didn't think he was as obscure as he apparently was. Either that or he had never made that big an impression on her. "I used to live here."

Marissa's confused look transformed into one of intense concentration. She leaned forward slightly, peering at him intently. He saw a light spark in her eyes and he smiled faintly. "Seth? Is that you?"