Disclaimers: I do not own Seth Cohen or any of the other characters
mentioned in this work of fiction, other than the ones you do not
recognize. Seth and the gang belongs to the lovely and talented Josh
Schwartz and the good people at FOX Broadcasting.
A/N: Special thanks to my super duper beta readers, miss suga and Sister Rose. If you find any errors, it's my fault entirely.
It's an all-dialogue fic, so be prepared.
Session By: Molly
"Well, why do you think you're here?"
"...."
"Seth?"
"Because my dad has more balls than Jimmy Cooper."
"Care to elaborate on that one?"
"Well Super Cooper decides to overdose on pills in a foreign country and we all break her out of the loony bin and send a lynch mob out after Julie Cooper because she figures maybe her suicidal daughter needs a little help. Me? I run away for two days and my parents put me in here, slap the bracelet on my wrist, and stamp me as a few sandwiches short of a picnic."
"Are you upset with your parents for bringing you here?"
"Nah, doesn't matter. They're just trying to put the fear of God into me, make sure I don't bolt again. Well..okay..I'm slightly peeved. And by slightly I mean very much so."
"Will you bolt again?"
"I came back, didn't I, doc? Came to my senses, right?"
"Well, why'd you leave in the first place?"
"Stuff happens, you know? And when something big happens I can't take it in all at once. Him leaving..geez, scared the living crap out of me. I'd have to go back to that life, that school..piss in my shoes, guys punching me in places where no one could see the bruises but me."
"Now, don't get upset. We can talk about school later if you don't feel like doing so now."
"I'm not upset."
"You're about to tear that bracelet off your wrist, which, may I remind you, is against the rules."
"The stupid thing clashes with my robe, okay? Look, whatever. We'll talk about school later. Hey, you ever hear of a guy, Oliver Trask? He's bonkers enough to have chilled here."
"Let's talk about you, Seth."
"There's not much to say anymore. I left, got scared, came back. And now I have my very own head shrinker."
"Why did you get scared?"
"Honestly?"
"Yes, I'd much prefer honesty."
"It's none of your business."
"Fair enough."
"You mean I can be a sass mouth all I want here?"
"I can't stop you from saying whatever you feel like saying."
"And there's that whole doctor-patient confidentiality thing, right?"
"We've been over this, and yes."
"Oh, good. I think Luke Ward's gay."
"You've said that before."
"I know, but it's fun to say these things without getting punched."
"I thought you and Luke were friends."
"Correction: Ryan and Luke are friends. I'm holding a grudge, as is my right as an American. He made my life hell."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I write him occasionally."
"That's nice."
"Not really."
"And how did everyone react when you came back?"
"Swift little topic change there. Nice job. The parentals wept. Hugged, kissed, and cuddled. Dad almost crushed me to death. Never let the man give you a bear hug. Seriously. Then it was all like, "hey, now that you're finally home, we're going to lock you away in the nut house." But it's cool. I'll be out soon."
"And Summer?"
"Umm..we're working things out. Or we will, once we actually see each other. I left her a note when I left, left a message on her cell. Gave her two hours to meet me at the dock. She never showed up, so I left. Tahiti was supposed to be for us."
"What do you hope to achieve in your relationship with her?"
"Sex, and lots of it."
"Can we be serious?"
"Yeah..sure..umm..I dunno. I guess I'd like the mend the fence, if that's the right term for it. I've mentioned sweet lovin' already, right?"
"Yes."
"Good, can't leave that one out. Look, Summer and I will be fine. She'll have a rage blackout or something and then I'll buy her some Gucci pumps and some sort of handbag contraption. I'll go broke, but she won't kill me."
"I see. Now Seth, this is our fourth session, and this is the most open you've ever been with me."
"Yeah, well, my mom and dad refuse to spring me loose until I spill my guts and share my gossip. Or do we call it dishing dirt these days? Is there a professional term for that?"
"Seth.."
"Right-o. Staying on topic. What is the topic?"
"There is something I wanted to discuss with you. I talked with your father before I first met with you and he had some concerns-"
"Oh God."
"Now listen to me. Your father was concerned that you might consider harming yourself."
"Ridiculous."
"He mentioned something about a few years ago. A suicide attempt?"
"No, no, no. That's not what it was. It was a note. I wrote a note. At the time I was thinking about doing it- killing myself- but it wasn't a serious thing. It was like, 'oh, this jock called me queer today and now I want to die.' Stupid kid stuff. I was thirteen. So my dad found the note one day when I went sailing. I was kind of scared to throw it out, like Mom or Dad or Rosa would magically pick that day to go through the trash and stumble upon my pitiful suicide note. I considered shredding it up, but in my warped mind that just meant they would have pieced it back together with tape. Anyway, Dad claimed he was doing the laundry when he found it but I bet he was snooping for dirty magazines or something."
"Did he confront you about it?"
"Well, I came home, walked into my room, and there he was, sitting on my bed and bawling like a baby. Maybe he thought I'd already done it or something. Hugged me, kissed me, cuddled me, almost crushed me. After a two hour forced man-to-man chat he let me go. Told me he wouldn't tell anybody as long as I talked to him or Mom if I got real depressed or anything."
"And have you?"
"Nah. We're not big on communication, really. We laugh stuff off. At least I do. My dad kinda likes to talk about what's going on in my life, give me advice on girls and all that. He's pushy that way.. Mom waits for me to come to her more often than not."
"Do you?"
"No."
"Can you see the connection your father would make between that experience when you were thirteen and this one? Finding a note addressed to him and your boat gone?"
"Yeah, look, I get it. I'm a major shit head and I should be shot. Only not really, because I should live, because there are no problems big enough to warrant death. I'll just smile and be happy and pretend like my only friend isn't gone and my life isn't hell."
"I'm just trying to get you to see this from your parents' perspectives."
"I do. I see, okay?"
"It is okay, Seth. Everyone has times where they feel hopeless. Everyone feels like giving up now and then."
"Look, I'll cut out all the mindless chatter for awhile and tell you what you want to know. I'm not going to kill myself. I don't even know why I ran away."
"I can help you figure out why."
"To be honest, I don't want to know. I'd rather just go home and forget everything that happened."
"You realize that can't happen though, right?"
"Yeah, I know. I have to work through my issues so I can come to a better understanding of myself and my parents and Ryan, all that crap. But seriously doc, I'm tired. This place gives me the creeps. Can't you just tell Big Brother I'm not batty and let me out of here? I want to sleep in my own bed tonight."
"Why don't we see how tonight goes and work from there?"
"Will somebody please think of Captain Oats? He must be worried sick."
"Captain Oats?"
"A plastic horse. My only friend now that Ryan's in Chino. I really screwed everything up there."
"How?"
"When he left he came up to say good-bye and I could hardly even look at him. If I did I would've started sobbing or something, so I just acted like a jerk. The guy probably hates me now. He was the only friend I've ever had. Someone who's liked me just for me."
"Why is Ryan your only friend? Why weren't there others?"
"Because I'm a loser, okay? I like comic books and music intended to make you cry. I don't get wasted or stoned every weekend; I play video games and eat Spaghetti-O's and watch 'Spongebob.' But no 'Kim: Possible.' That show sucks. The Newport dominant race, the Abercrombie and Fitch crowd, they don't like me. And I don't like them. But I'm outnumbered; there's no way I can win the war."
"Outnumbered?"
"You don't get it. See, school is like a war zone. Me? I'm trying to be neutral, I'm trying to be Switzerland, but asshole water polo players drag me into the damn thing, make me one of the crazy battling countries. Only I'm the really puny powerless country that's only there so France and/or Germany will get their testosterone kick by stomping all over my ass."
"And how did you deal with this?"
"I pretended to be sick a lot. And my parents humored me. Pretended they believed all of my phony fevers. They felt bad for me. I didn't want them to, but they did. And it's going to go back to being like that. Ryan's not going to come back, not even if the baby is Eddie's. It's the right thing to do, but I don't see why he can't do the right thing in the pool house."
"Why do you think that Ryan leaving changes things so drastically? You still have Summer, don't you?"
"It's weird with her. She likes me and I like her, but she's still superficial. She could date me when I had Ryan as a friend, when I had anyone as a friend. When it was the Fantastic Four of Ryan and Marissa, me and Summer, everything was just peachy keen and rainbows. With no one but us left, we'll live in a couple world. We'll be Sethumer, two people fused into one, completing each other's sentences and gross things like that. Real X-Men type stuff. Everywhere we go, we'll go together. I like the sound of it, but Summer's not going to give up all of her old friends and her parties to become a mutant being with me. She'd have to break all of her ties with the social world."
"What about Marissa?"
"What about her? It's her goddamned fault Ryan is gone. Hell, it doesn't matter anyway. She's back into her life as a Boozin' Betty. She's nothing without her boyfriend to leech onto."
"So she's not your friend either?"
"She was Ryan's friend, his occasional more-than-friend. She just bothered me, you know? She never talked to me before Ryan was around, then claimed I thought I was better than everyone else because I never talked to her. God, the girl's never heard of a person being shy, of acting superior because a person can't just resign themselves to being crap because everyone tells them they are. Sorry I wasn't exchanging phone numbers with you while your boyfriend was taking a piss in my shoes. The girl's just oblivious to so much around her."
"We're not here to talk about Marissa and her problems; we're here to talk about you."
"What do you want me to say?"
"Tell me what they did to you and don't gloss it over like you do when you're with your parents or with the other people in your life."
"They made me miserable."
"There must have been more than that, if it made you run away."
"Every where I went someone was behind me, calling me a queer or a fag. They'd pants me, or steal my gym clothes. Peed in my shoes, that one was a real dream. I tried to fight back with pathetic one-liners. Usually those got me a punch to the ribs. They used to steal my notebooks and write "FAGGOT" all over them in big letters. If they'd opened up the cover they would've seen one of the pictures of naked women I stole from my dad's dresser. That's what we in the business call irony."
"And how did that make you feel?"
"Like crap, obviously. But I tried to hide it from everyone, like my parents and all that. Didn't want them knowing what a loser they were raising. And they knew I got beaten up and they knew I had no friends, so there was no reason to hide, but I did anyway. It hurt a lot, knowing they knew, knowing they felt bad for me. Those were just some pretty uncomfortable years."
"And then Ryan came."
"Yes, exactly. Then Ryan came. And if people behind me called me faggot or queer I couldn't hear them because I was too busy talking to Ryan about video games or something. And if someone tried to kick my ass, I threw down my retaliatory zingers and he threw the smack down on them. The perfect tag- team. We were both outsiders, and we kind of helped each other fit in. Well, he helped me. Yeah, he helped me out a lot. He was a great guy. Silent as hell, and not nearly as funny or as video game inclined as yours truly, but he was the best friend I've ever had. I can't go back to what it was like before."
"And what do you want to happen with Ryan?"
"I want him to come home. I want him and Theresa and the baby, named Seth presumably, to live in the pool house and lead a good life. He's too good for Chino. Well, he's too good for Newport too, but at least here he'd have money. He wouldn't have to work so hard. We could still play video games and talk about our ladies and everything would be just peachy keen and rainbows again."
"So that's what you want; for Ryan to come home?"
"Yes."
"Seth, why did you come back?"
"None of your business."
"Seth, why did you come back?"
"I don't know!"
"I think you do."
"I came back...I came back because I knew Ryan would hear about me leaving and pack up and come to Newport and launch a big fucking search party. I didn't want to force him to come back if Chino is where he wants to be, or even if it's not where he wants to be, even if it's where he thinks he needs to be. I want him to come back on his own. I need him to, okay?"
"Here, take a tissue."
"I have something in my eye."
"I believe you."
"No, you don't."
"I'm sorry Seth, but our time is up for today. We've made great progress though. I'm proud of you."
"Does that mean I can go home? I'll do weekly..hell, I'll do daily therapy sessions if I can go home."
"That's not up to me, but I can make a recommendation to your parents."
"And what are you going to recommend?"
"Therapy, to be sure. You have a lot you need to work out. I don't know if you need to stay here much longer, but again, that's their call."
"It sucks being a minor."
"They're just doing what's best for you."
"Whatever. I can go now?"
"Yes. Your parents are waiting in your room. You can talk to them for a little while if you want to, about what we said here or anything else, but when you're done can you please tell them to come see me?"
"Sure. Fine."
"Bye, Seth."
"See ya. And uh..thanks, doc. It's uh..it's been real."
finis
A/N: Special thanks to my super duper beta readers, miss suga and Sister Rose. If you find any errors, it's my fault entirely.
It's an all-dialogue fic, so be prepared.
Session By: Molly
"Well, why do you think you're here?"
"...."
"Seth?"
"Because my dad has more balls than Jimmy Cooper."
"Care to elaborate on that one?"
"Well Super Cooper decides to overdose on pills in a foreign country and we all break her out of the loony bin and send a lynch mob out after Julie Cooper because she figures maybe her suicidal daughter needs a little help. Me? I run away for two days and my parents put me in here, slap the bracelet on my wrist, and stamp me as a few sandwiches short of a picnic."
"Are you upset with your parents for bringing you here?"
"Nah, doesn't matter. They're just trying to put the fear of God into me, make sure I don't bolt again. Well..okay..I'm slightly peeved. And by slightly I mean very much so."
"Will you bolt again?"
"I came back, didn't I, doc? Came to my senses, right?"
"Well, why'd you leave in the first place?"
"Stuff happens, you know? And when something big happens I can't take it in all at once. Him leaving..geez, scared the living crap out of me. I'd have to go back to that life, that school..piss in my shoes, guys punching me in places where no one could see the bruises but me."
"Now, don't get upset. We can talk about school later if you don't feel like doing so now."
"I'm not upset."
"You're about to tear that bracelet off your wrist, which, may I remind you, is against the rules."
"The stupid thing clashes with my robe, okay? Look, whatever. We'll talk about school later. Hey, you ever hear of a guy, Oliver Trask? He's bonkers enough to have chilled here."
"Let's talk about you, Seth."
"There's not much to say anymore. I left, got scared, came back. And now I have my very own head shrinker."
"Why did you get scared?"
"Honestly?"
"Yes, I'd much prefer honesty."
"It's none of your business."
"Fair enough."
"You mean I can be a sass mouth all I want here?"
"I can't stop you from saying whatever you feel like saying."
"And there's that whole doctor-patient confidentiality thing, right?"
"We've been over this, and yes."
"Oh, good. I think Luke Ward's gay."
"You've said that before."
"I know, but it's fun to say these things without getting punched."
"I thought you and Luke were friends."
"Correction: Ryan and Luke are friends. I'm holding a grudge, as is my right as an American. He made my life hell."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I write him occasionally."
"That's nice."
"Not really."
"And how did everyone react when you came back?"
"Swift little topic change there. Nice job. The parentals wept. Hugged, kissed, and cuddled. Dad almost crushed me to death. Never let the man give you a bear hug. Seriously. Then it was all like, "hey, now that you're finally home, we're going to lock you away in the nut house." But it's cool. I'll be out soon."
"And Summer?"
"Umm..we're working things out. Or we will, once we actually see each other. I left her a note when I left, left a message on her cell. Gave her two hours to meet me at the dock. She never showed up, so I left. Tahiti was supposed to be for us."
"What do you hope to achieve in your relationship with her?"
"Sex, and lots of it."
"Can we be serious?"
"Yeah..sure..umm..I dunno. I guess I'd like the mend the fence, if that's the right term for it. I've mentioned sweet lovin' already, right?"
"Yes."
"Good, can't leave that one out. Look, Summer and I will be fine. She'll have a rage blackout or something and then I'll buy her some Gucci pumps and some sort of handbag contraption. I'll go broke, but she won't kill me."
"I see. Now Seth, this is our fourth session, and this is the most open you've ever been with me."
"Yeah, well, my mom and dad refuse to spring me loose until I spill my guts and share my gossip. Or do we call it dishing dirt these days? Is there a professional term for that?"
"Seth.."
"Right-o. Staying on topic. What is the topic?"
"There is something I wanted to discuss with you. I talked with your father before I first met with you and he had some concerns-"
"Oh God."
"Now listen to me. Your father was concerned that you might consider harming yourself."
"Ridiculous."
"He mentioned something about a few years ago. A suicide attempt?"
"No, no, no. That's not what it was. It was a note. I wrote a note. At the time I was thinking about doing it- killing myself- but it wasn't a serious thing. It was like, 'oh, this jock called me queer today and now I want to die.' Stupid kid stuff. I was thirteen. So my dad found the note one day when I went sailing. I was kind of scared to throw it out, like Mom or Dad or Rosa would magically pick that day to go through the trash and stumble upon my pitiful suicide note. I considered shredding it up, but in my warped mind that just meant they would have pieced it back together with tape. Anyway, Dad claimed he was doing the laundry when he found it but I bet he was snooping for dirty magazines or something."
"Did he confront you about it?"
"Well, I came home, walked into my room, and there he was, sitting on my bed and bawling like a baby. Maybe he thought I'd already done it or something. Hugged me, kissed me, cuddled me, almost crushed me. After a two hour forced man-to-man chat he let me go. Told me he wouldn't tell anybody as long as I talked to him or Mom if I got real depressed or anything."
"And have you?"
"Nah. We're not big on communication, really. We laugh stuff off. At least I do. My dad kinda likes to talk about what's going on in my life, give me advice on girls and all that. He's pushy that way.. Mom waits for me to come to her more often than not."
"Do you?"
"No."
"Can you see the connection your father would make between that experience when you were thirteen and this one? Finding a note addressed to him and your boat gone?"
"Yeah, look, I get it. I'm a major shit head and I should be shot. Only not really, because I should live, because there are no problems big enough to warrant death. I'll just smile and be happy and pretend like my only friend isn't gone and my life isn't hell."
"I'm just trying to get you to see this from your parents' perspectives."
"I do. I see, okay?"
"It is okay, Seth. Everyone has times where they feel hopeless. Everyone feels like giving up now and then."
"Look, I'll cut out all the mindless chatter for awhile and tell you what you want to know. I'm not going to kill myself. I don't even know why I ran away."
"I can help you figure out why."
"To be honest, I don't want to know. I'd rather just go home and forget everything that happened."
"You realize that can't happen though, right?"
"Yeah, I know. I have to work through my issues so I can come to a better understanding of myself and my parents and Ryan, all that crap. But seriously doc, I'm tired. This place gives me the creeps. Can't you just tell Big Brother I'm not batty and let me out of here? I want to sleep in my own bed tonight."
"Why don't we see how tonight goes and work from there?"
"Will somebody please think of Captain Oats? He must be worried sick."
"Captain Oats?"
"A plastic horse. My only friend now that Ryan's in Chino. I really screwed everything up there."
"How?"
"When he left he came up to say good-bye and I could hardly even look at him. If I did I would've started sobbing or something, so I just acted like a jerk. The guy probably hates me now. He was the only friend I've ever had. Someone who's liked me just for me."
"Why is Ryan your only friend? Why weren't there others?"
"Because I'm a loser, okay? I like comic books and music intended to make you cry. I don't get wasted or stoned every weekend; I play video games and eat Spaghetti-O's and watch 'Spongebob.' But no 'Kim: Possible.' That show sucks. The Newport dominant race, the Abercrombie and Fitch crowd, they don't like me. And I don't like them. But I'm outnumbered; there's no way I can win the war."
"Outnumbered?"
"You don't get it. See, school is like a war zone. Me? I'm trying to be neutral, I'm trying to be Switzerland, but asshole water polo players drag me into the damn thing, make me one of the crazy battling countries. Only I'm the really puny powerless country that's only there so France and/or Germany will get their testosterone kick by stomping all over my ass."
"And how did you deal with this?"
"I pretended to be sick a lot. And my parents humored me. Pretended they believed all of my phony fevers. They felt bad for me. I didn't want them to, but they did. And it's going to go back to being like that. Ryan's not going to come back, not even if the baby is Eddie's. It's the right thing to do, but I don't see why he can't do the right thing in the pool house."
"Why do you think that Ryan leaving changes things so drastically? You still have Summer, don't you?"
"It's weird with her. She likes me and I like her, but she's still superficial. She could date me when I had Ryan as a friend, when I had anyone as a friend. When it was the Fantastic Four of Ryan and Marissa, me and Summer, everything was just peachy keen and rainbows. With no one but us left, we'll live in a couple world. We'll be Sethumer, two people fused into one, completing each other's sentences and gross things like that. Real X-Men type stuff. Everywhere we go, we'll go together. I like the sound of it, but Summer's not going to give up all of her old friends and her parties to become a mutant being with me. She'd have to break all of her ties with the social world."
"What about Marissa?"
"What about her? It's her goddamned fault Ryan is gone. Hell, it doesn't matter anyway. She's back into her life as a Boozin' Betty. She's nothing without her boyfriend to leech onto."
"So she's not your friend either?"
"She was Ryan's friend, his occasional more-than-friend. She just bothered me, you know? She never talked to me before Ryan was around, then claimed I thought I was better than everyone else because I never talked to her. God, the girl's never heard of a person being shy, of acting superior because a person can't just resign themselves to being crap because everyone tells them they are. Sorry I wasn't exchanging phone numbers with you while your boyfriend was taking a piss in my shoes. The girl's just oblivious to so much around her."
"We're not here to talk about Marissa and her problems; we're here to talk about you."
"What do you want me to say?"
"Tell me what they did to you and don't gloss it over like you do when you're with your parents or with the other people in your life."
"They made me miserable."
"There must have been more than that, if it made you run away."
"Every where I went someone was behind me, calling me a queer or a fag. They'd pants me, or steal my gym clothes. Peed in my shoes, that one was a real dream. I tried to fight back with pathetic one-liners. Usually those got me a punch to the ribs. They used to steal my notebooks and write "FAGGOT" all over them in big letters. If they'd opened up the cover they would've seen one of the pictures of naked women I stole from my dad's dresser. That's what we in the business call irony."
"And how did that make you feel?"
"Like crap, obviously. But I tried to hide it from everyone, like my parents and all that. Didn't want them knowing what a loser they were raising. And they knew I got beaten up and they knew I had no friends, so there was no reason to hide, but I did anyway. It hurt a lot, knowing they knew, knowing they felt bad for me. Those were just some pretty uncomfortable years."
"And then Ryan came."
"Yes, exactly. Then Ryan came. And if people behind me called me faggot or queer I couldn't hear them because I was too busy talking to Ryan about video games or something. And if someone tried to kick my ass, I threw down my retaliatory zingers and he threw the smack down on them. The perfect tag- team. We were both outsiders, and we kind of helped each other fit in. Well, he helped me. Yeah, he helped me out a lot. He was a great guy. Silent as hell, and not nearly as funny or as video game inclined as yours truly, but he was the best friend I've ever had. I can't go back to what it was like before."
"And what do you want to happen with Ryan?"
"I want him to come home. I want him and Theresa and the baby, named Seth presumably, to live in the pool house and lead a good life. He's too good for Chino. Well, he's too good for Newport too, but at least here he'd have money. He wouldn't have to work so hard. We could still play video games and talk about our ladies and everything would be just peachy keen and rainbows again."
"So that's what you want; for Ryan to come home?"
"Yes."
"Seth, why did you come back?"
"None of your business."
"Seth, why did you come back?"
"I don't know!"
"I think you do."
"I came back...I came back because I knew Ryan would hear about me leaving and pack up and come to Newport and launch a big fucking search party. I didn't want to force him to come back if Chino is where he wants to be, or even if it's not where he wants to be, even if it's where he thinks he needs to be. I want him to come back on his own. I need him to, okay?"
"Here, take a tissue."
"I have something in my eye."
"I believe you."
"No, you don't."
"I'm sorry Seth, but our time is up for today. We've made great progress though. I'm proud of you."
"Does that mean I can go home? I'll do weekly..hell, I'll do daily therapy sessions if I can go home."
"That's not up to me, but I can make a recommendation to your parents."
"And what are you going to recommend?"
"Therapy, to be sure. You have a lot you need to work out. I don't know if you need to stay here much longer, but again, that's their call."
"It sucks being a minor."
"They're just doing what's best for you."
"Whatever. I can go now?"
"Yes. Your parents are waiting in your room. You can talk to them for a little while if you want to, about what we said here or anything else, but when you're done can you please tell them to come see me?"
"Sure. Fine."
"Bye, Seth."
"See ya. And uh..thanks, doc. It's uh..it's been real."
finis