Chapter 2

In the next room, Seth pressed his body against a wall and stared at Ryan, his eyes wide and his mouth open.

"Newport Police," a voice boomed from the bottom floor. "Come on out, and keep your hands where we can see them."

Ryan and Seth stood, frozen, listening to the boots thumping on the stairs. A beam of light flashed across the open doorway. Seth made a series of nonsensical gestures with his hands and finally pointed over his shoulder to another door that apparently was their escape. Ryan nodded and they both moved slowly toward it. Seth sucked in his breath when a board squeaked beneath his feet. The footsteps from the next room stopped and a moment later the light swung back into the room.

"Come on," Seth hissed, sprinting toward the door. Ryan hesitated before racing after him.

"Police! Stop, right now."

Seth froze in the doorway and then turned around so quickly that Ryan nearly ran into him. Seth's face was momentarily illuminated in the bright beam from a flashlight, and Ryan looked over his shoulder, back at the cops. He raised a hand to shield his eyes so he could see the shadowy figure of two cops who stood several feet behind him. One held the flashlight, and, though it was hard to make out in the dark, Ryan thought he saw the second cop's hand hovering over the butt of his holstered gun.

"Take it easy, kid. Don't move."

Ryan assumed the cop with the flashlight was talking to him and he dropped his arms to his sides, keeping his hands open and away from his body. But when he turned his head and faced forward, away from the cops, he saw that the light was focused again on Seth, whose hands were raised and fluttering around his chest. Seth shuffled on his feet and seemed to be inching away from the door. He was panicking.

The cop with the flashlight reached out toward Seth, grabbing him by the arm and shoving him hard against the wall. Seth's forehead hit the doorjamb with a loud crack, and he let out a startled yelp.

"Hey!" Ryan shouted, and jumped forward. He pushed between Seth and the cop, knocking the cop backward with his shoulder. The cop stumbled, then found his balance. In one quick motion he dropped the flashlight and pulled his gun from its holster.

"Back off," the cop said, his voice low and angry. He was breathing hard. Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan saw that the other cop had moved forward and drawn his weapon, too. Both were trained on Ryan.

Ryan stared at the guns, listening to Seth's sharp intake of breath behind him. He could feel his heart beating in every inch of his body.

"Raise your hands above your head and back up," the cop said. "Away from your friend. Slowly."

Lifting his hands, palms out, Ryan shuffled backward, scared that he'd trip and the sudden movement would make the cop shoot him. He knew he'd made a mistake. A big one.

"Place both hands behind your head and lace your fingers together."

Ryan obeyed, feeling very exposed.

"All right, get down," the cop said. "On your knees."

Ryan sank to the ground, keeping his eyes on the gun the whole time. He immediately felt safer, kneeling. He was less likely to be shot on the ground, he thought.

"Good," the cop said. "Now don't move."

While the other cop moved closer, covering both Seth and Ryan with his gun, the cop Ryan had shoved circled around behind him. Ryan heard the faint clink of metal just behind his head, and swallowed hard as the officer grabbed first his left wrist, then his right, and snapped the handcuffs on.

"You're under arrest for criminal trespass and assault on an officer," the cop said. He began reading Ryan his rights, but Ryan couldn't listen. Instead he watched, his panic mounting, as Seth put his hands behind his back and the second cop handcuffed him, too. It was all wrong. Seth hadn't attacked anyone, and he didn't have a record, and this wasn't the kind of thing that got you handcuffed, not when you were just a kid fooling around. At least, it wasn't in Chino.

The officer behind him gripped the chain between the handcuffs with one hand and with his free hand began searching Ryan, starting at the top of his head and moving downward.

"Any sharp objects or weapons?" he asked.

"No," Ryan whispered. He held his breath as the cop patted him down. No matter how often it happened, he couldn't get used to being touched by strangers. Maybe it should have been easier for Seth, who, for all his coltish awkwardness was graced with an enviable ease when it came to most physical encounters. No matter how many times he was attacked by the water polo team, Seth could still relax into a hug or accept a friendly punch in the arm without flinching. No matter how many times Sandy clapped Ryan on the back or put an arm around his shoulders, Ryan's hands still sometimes closed into fists when the contact was unexpected.

But now Ryan watched out of the corner of his eye as the cop moved to search Seth. Seth jumped a little each time the cop's hands came down on a new part of his body, and by the time the cop finished at his ankles, Seth was shivering like a puppy left out in the rain.

The cops took their wallets, and Seth's keychain with the Swiss Army knife on it. He moved to the other side of the room, and the radio crackled and sputtered as he called in their information. Ryan's knees were getting tired and his arms were stiff from being twisted behind him, but he was too afraid to even shift his weight.

It didn't take the cop long to return, and he came to stand in front of Ryan.

"You're on probation," he said. "Auto theft?"

Ryan sighed. "Yes, sir."

"And you're both underage," he said. "You're aware of the consequences here?"

"Yes, sir," Ryan said again. He had to force the words out.

"All right," the cop said. "We're going down to the station."

Ryan looked up. "Even Seth? Because he doesn't – "

"Hey," the cop said. "You really don't want to piss me off any more than you have already, kid." He hauled Ryan up by the cuffs, and pushed him forward. The second cop led Seth, but more gently. Ryan looked at Seth, who still looked pretty shaky.

"Ryan," Seth said, his voice small.

Ryan knew it was an apology, the only one Seth could manage right now. He nodded accepting it because Seth needed him to, but he knew he was the one who should have been apologizing. He was the one who'd gotten them arrested. The cop jerked on his arms to lead him down the stairs, which Ryan took as slowly as possible, irrationally afraid that he would pitch forward and break his neck. The cops led them to the police cruiser and put them in the backseat.

Seth turned to look at Ryan. His eyes were huge and nearly luminous in the dim light. His chin trembled and he looked as though he wanted to speak, but he said nothing. There was a first time for everything, Ryan thought.

"Seth," he said. "It's okay. Nothing's going to happen to you."

He leaned over and bumped his shoulder against Seth's. Seth just shook his head.

+++++

They'd been sitting in the patrol car for less than a minute when Seth realized he couldn't breathe. There was the grille in front of him and the doors with no inside handles and the fact that he couldn't move his hands, and all of this was making it hard to fill his lungs. He shifted and pushed his shoulders back and tried to take a deep breath, but it was impossible.

"What are you doing?" Ryan said, and God, Ryan was so much calmer than Seth ever would have expected. He looked very tired, but he was composed.

"Claustrophobic," Seth whispered. "My throat's closing."

"No, it isn't," Ryan said. He sneaked a glance at the two officers, who were sliding into the front seat. "Seriously, Seth, chill. This'll all be over in a few hours. You'll be home."

"What about you?" Seth said.

Ryan sighed and ducked his head, then took a deep breath.

"It'll be fine," he said. But he wouldn't look at Seth.

"No talking back there," said the officer who wasn't driving, the one Ryan had pushed.

"Hey," Ryan said, his voice entirely too harsh. "He can't breathe."

"Asthma?"

"No, he's scared." Ryan said. Seth shot him the best glare he could muster, but apparently his Glare of Doom lacked the power of Ryan's, because there wasn't even a flicker of answering emotion on Ryan's face. Seth leaned forward, resting his forehead lightly against the seatback in front of him, and took quick, shallow breaths to calm himself. He tried to think of other things, about anything besides being trapped like a rat. Summer in a bikini. The last Death Cab show he'd gone to with Anna. But those thoughts didn't exactly calm him (and oh, God, he was going to jail) so he closed his eyes and thought of being out on the ocean, the boat rolling beneath him, the bright water stretching endlessly around him, until he finally he could breathe again.

When the car pulled up at the police station Seth was surprised. For some reason he had thought they'd go straight to juvie, because that was what he'd always pictured happening to Ryan. He didn't actually know, because Ryan's previous stints in juvie were pretty high on the list of Ryan Atwood's Subjects I Refuse to Discuss, along with Ryan's mother's old boyfriends, and what Marissa looked like with her top off. Not that Ryan would ever make such a list. Seth might make one, but there wouldn't be much on it, not if he was being honest.

Inside the police station, the cops took them to the front desk and removed their handcuffs. The desk clerk told Seth and Ryan to take off their jackets and shoes, and turn out their pockets. Ryan didn't have anything but his wallet and a lighter – no cigarettes, but he shrugged in an apologetic way when Seth gave him a questioning look. The desk clerk grinned when Seth pulled out his X-Men key chain – now minus the Swiss Army knife – and set it on the desk. He snickered outright when Seth pulled out a rolled-up Legion comic and the iPod that had been in the pockets of his jacket.

"What?" Seth said, before he thought. "Dude, if your best friend was practically a mute, you'd come prepared, too."

The clerk frowned, and Ryan hissed, "Seth. Shut up."

Seth nodded quickly. "Yes. Shutting up now."

The clerk took down the rest of their information. He seemed suspicious when Ryan told him that he and Seth lived together ("You don't look like brothers to me") but didn't really listen to Seth's stammered explanation. He just shrugged and said he'd go call Seth's parents, an announcement that made Seth's stomach go cold, and his hands started shaking so badly he had trouble re-tying his Pumas. Ryan just looked at the floor, his hair falling in front of his eyes so Seth couldn't read his expression.

The officer Ryan had shoved – Seth could see now that his nametag read "Franklin" – leaned in and spoke to the clerk.

"Hey, where can I stash these guys?"

The clerk returned to the desk and flipped through a stack of papers.

"Tank's full, cells are full," he said. "Busy night."

"Fridays. Bench?"

"Sure. You'll take babysitting duty?" said the clerk.

"Fine," Franklin said. He took Seth by the elbow, the other cop who'd arrested them took Ryan, and they led them back past the desks, to a dim hall that was empty except for a long wooden bench. The cop sat Ryan down at one end and took out a pair of handcuffs, securing one cuff to the arm of the bench and the other to Ryan's right wrist. Ryan was silent until Franklin cuffed Seth to the opposite end of the bench.

"Do you have to do that?" Ryan said. "You're getting him for, what, possession?"

"Don't forget the trespassing," Franklin said. "And eluding officers. I bet I can find more charges if you want to keep talking."

Ryan drew in a deep breath and quietly said, "I'm sorry." For the first time, Seth thought, he looked really scared.

"We can't put you in with the adult prisoners," the officer continued, his voice a little less sharp now, and Seth looked up to find the officer was talking to him. "But this is just temporary, until we get through to your parents."

Seth nodded, but his mind was jumping. Parents. Prisoners. Not exactly the most comforting words. He, Seth Cohen, was a prisoner. He couldn't wrap his mind around that thought. He remembered visiting Ryan in juvie, the bars and the jumpsuits and that crazy guy who'd attacked Ryan, and he sent up a prayer to both Jesus and Moses that he wouldn't have to spend a night there. Seth had seen Oz. He knew what happened to guys like him in places like that. He slumped down in his seat.

"Either of you guys need food?" Franklin said, glancing down at the clipboard in his hand. "Drink of water? Bathroom?"

"Are you being nice, or is it the law that you have to ask us that?" Seth said, before he thought.

"Seth," Ryan said.

"As a matter of fact, it is the law," Franklin said. He laughed, rather unpleasantly. "What's a smart kid like you doing in a place like this?"

Seth opened his mouth to reply, but then two things happened: Ryan shot him the Glare of Doom, which still sometimes had the power to render Seth silent, and somebody in the next room called out, "Hey, Franklin?"

"Sit tight," the officer said. "Be right back."

As soon as he was gone, Ryan leaned toward Seth. He had turned on the moody scowl, full force.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ryan said. "He's not a nice guy, Seth."

"Not really."

"Well, don't antagonize him."

"You did," Seth pointed out, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the linoleum floor.

"That's different."

"Why, because you were protecting me?"

Ryan shrugged. "It's just better if you stay quiet, and do what they want. They notice you less, and it's safer. You don't get hurt so much."

From Ryan, that was almost a speech. He'd probably used up a week's worth of words right there.

"Are you talking about juvie?" Seth said cautiously.

Ryan looked at the floor.

"I guess," he said.

"How come you never talked about this before?"

Ryan shrugged again, looking miserable.

"You never needed to hear it before."

For once in his life, Seth couldn't think of a single thing to say. He couldn't tell if Ryan was offering him advice or a confession, and he had no idea what to do with either. He leaned forward, trying to see Ryan's face, but Ryan caught him and turned his head away.

A third cop – a new one – joined them in the hall, and pointed at Seth.

"Seth Cohen?"

"That's me," Seth said. He stopped himself from asking how the officer had known. He might take it the wrong way, and besides, Seth guessed it was pretty obvious that Ryan wasn't a Cohen.

"You need to come with me," the officer said. "We have a few questions to ask you."

"Okay," Seth said nervously. "Just me?"

"Don't worry. Your buddy's up next."

The officer bent to unlock the cuff around Seth's wrist. When he was free, Seth rubbed his wrist and inspected it for red marks, then looked up in time to catch Ryan's eye-roll. Seth shrugged in response and Ryan shook his head and nearly smiled.

Ryan was the one person who always knew what Seth was thinking.