Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, Fox rocks! (except for the time when they cancelled my Firefly!)

Author's Note: Time to shout out all my wonderful reviewers individually. S, a formal definition of her illness will come either in the next or the chapter after that. Thank you for reviewing. HOTTERTHNU, well coming from you that's a huge compliment, thanks so much. Carpanters21, LOL, well no not that I can remember ;) Thanks. RockinTheOC, wow seriously it still throws me when I read your comments cause I am like a huge fan of yours, I am currently trying to catch up on One & Lady In Red. Everyone read any of her stories. Candy07, thanks a billion, you always review and I am beyond grateful. Obsessed01, big huge hug, thanks so much. Samantha, I am so glad you are enjoying this. Kim, well I'm glad I made you cry in a good way. Seriously, so awesome that I have people who like this. SummerSethShipper, yeah I'll give you an exact illness soon, promise. Thanks for your review. Anna, oh that song is gorgeous, I downloaded it at your recommendation and I love it. I'm glad you feel it, going by the early reviews I got no one was actually feeling this except for me and my beta maybe but I'm glad that's changing. I'll use the song in one of my chapters. Melanie-37, lol sorry about your best friend thing, this Marian will not be very pleasant I think. I'm glad you like the Seth bits, I was wondering if having her eavesdrop again was pushing it a little but hey no complaints from you all makes it fine by me. Thanks for the review. Nikki, you are too sweet, here's your update. Thank you for reviewing. All of you!!

So I hope this chapter meets your wishes, please read and review and make me into a happy camper. Oh, and I've somehow lost both of my betas, so if there are any mistakes, blame the fact that I am Dutch. To my Canadian beta, I miss you sweetie, prepare for a long email. (whoa, longest A/N in history.) I'm off to watch Holland kick some Czech ass in football, I love the Euro Cup 2004!

Lost In Babylon

Ch 15

Oh, the pleasures of June

I'm in a parked car

Flowers seem friendly

And people in hallways fill rooms

If things get real

Promise to take me somewhere else

By the time fear takes me over

Will we still be rolling?

And feeling oblivious…

Feeling Oblivious – Turin Brakes

I wake up with a start, a harsh tremble of my heart and I'm shaken to my core, frightened due to some lingering fragment of what could have been a nightmare. Yet instead of feeling lost, I blink a little harder than usual, and make out his shape hovering calmly near by bed. I stare at him, unsure if I really woke up or not. I could've been the one who asked for this uncommon visit, I think in my sleepy state. Not directly perhaps, but as I sit up a little in my bed and try to command my brain to wake up, I'm slowly starting to accept the oddity that is my life. And when things get odd, I usually start to look for the cause with the oddest thing I know, which would obviously be myself. Subtlety not being a virtue I possess, my behavior might've called for him to be standing at my bed like this. I just need to figure out what I did to get him to this point. I notice his mass of hair is still wet from the shower he must have taken at 4 AM or so, at least I guess it must've been at that time since it still isn't near dawn. I can't quite make out his face, the sun seems too shocked to show her pretty face, and I idly wonder that if I could see his expression it would be at all decipherable.

I finally see that he has two leather-bound books in his hands, and due a fresh burst of curiosity I quickly slip out from underneath the covers, a little self-consciously as I wrap my arms around myself. I feel like the restless night has left me a little disarrayed, more dishevelled than I'd like him to see me in any way. He opens his mouth to speak, but I cover it with my hand and point to the sleeping form in the far corner of the room. He doesn't even glance back at her, and instead gives me this weary look that sends a shiver to travel down my body. I have the good sense to mute him once more when he tries to speak again, and the distinct feeling that she'd ruin everything won't leave me, although I don't have a clue what there is to preserve here. Once I've pulled Seth out of my bedroom and shut the door, my concern with appearances has fleeted, and I realize that he isn't really looking at me anyway. He seems too preoccupied, his delicate fingers gripped so tightly around these books that I'm nearly afraid he'll hurt himself. Calm down sweet boy, I want to whisper, but I feel like I shouldn't say anything until he speaks. Until he explains this before I start to doubt that I'm really awake or not.

"Seth," I say, not being able to resist knocking him out of this spell he's in. I swiftly press my lips together when he finally looks up at me, and it's almost like he's seeing right through me. I decide I don't like him not noticing me, transparency has lost its appeal…with him it stings too much.

"I wanted to show you these before, but I knew that…" This time, he really catches my gaze, and I gratefully let his sparkly eyes flicker over me. My wounded pride is soothed for the moment, and my stomach swirls giddily as I give him a demure smile. Go on, my eyes purr back at him, but there he goes again, losing himself in this little tortured plane he's trapped on and I wring my hands a little in worry.

"Well they said it wouldn't be good to hand you so much information at once. That it would be too hard to deal with. But I made you a promise." Seth is silent again, and it feels too unnatural so I brush a few fingers along his chin, making him look up at me once more. I silently curse myself for making my madness stretch so far that it's covered him along with me, the air feels heavy and stifling yet I manage to keep my tone light. "What are you talking about?" I want to kiss him sane again, to cease these incessant fears gnawing at my conscious. He smiles, too oddly to be comforting, causing my stomach to twist a little when I see it. Seth takes one of my hands in his, so delicate…so careful, and I adore this man and his simple ways, "These belong to you," and he places the two books in my hand, covering them with my other hand.

"They kept saying that taking you back…that far back in your past would only do more harm than good, but I don't think anyone can make that decision for you. Secrets aren't going to help you, and I don't ever want to be dishonest with you, Summer. I don't want you to think I'm anywhere but on your side. Everything I do is about you, for you."

He blushes hard then, swallowing the last bits of his words back into a whisper. I watch enthralled as the blood pushes up along his cheeks, quick and fierce, like he hadn't expected to say those words out loud. He hadn't meant to admit his biggest weakness perhaps.

His eyes flicker with raw flecks of guilt, "I don't want to make things harder for you. Really, I don't." And once again, I'm muted at the most significant moments in my life, disappointing when a moment has more weight and value to it than usual. I am sure I should tell him, that like how he felt with me all those years ago, he also makes life easier for me. But I don't, trembling behind my stone cold facade. And so I watch him give a swift nod, a silent reprimand for himself I assume as his handsome face grows pale again, before he continues with what he was saying.

"So these are your diaries…" I rub my top hand a little along the weathered leather, daring to move for the first time, yet I can't look at these bundles that belonged to me once upon a time. I just can't, my gaze is so glued to this man, this gentle boy who is defying all the rules for me… And all I can think about is how brave he is. How unbelievably courageous, I can't believe he doesn't see how scared his bravery is making me feel. How inadequate, imperfect, I really am, as he's handing me these forbidden fruits. His words are just springing past me, fluttering around in my head but never landing, while I just continue rubbing my fingers along the leather covers.

"They are both pretty old, you wrote them long before…"
"My father died." I finish for him, without any emotion, to which Seth gives another brisk nod to swiftly brush past my painful lack of memories. I'm grateful for his tact, and try my best to smile him a thank you. "Yeah, I think one of them is even from before your parents' divorce. I just know you always kept them around, but the clinic disapproved of them I guess. The policy…" But he doesn't finish since he knows neither of us cares about that cursed place's policy. My head is aching at something he said, but I can't remember what it was, so I glance down at the treasures in my hands for the first time since he handed them to me. Just like with my old house, everything feels stalled, like I'm suspended in mid-air, just waiting for the drop. Just waiting for my crash…

"What do you think?" My voice is small and uncertain, mirroring this strange foreboding sensation swirling at the pit of my stomach. "What do you think I should do? Do think I should read this?" I can't believe I am voicing my fears, it seems too unlike myself to be so transparent, I'm usually more muddled in my ways.

"It depends on you, on how you are feeling." I glare at him a little, more pissed off than I really mean to be. I just wish someone would give me a straight answer for once, can't they see that I am asking for their help, that I can't make a decision to save my life. Or my sanity for that matter.

"I don't know how I am feeling, or how I'm supposed to feel about anything. You of all people should know that." Expectation never meets reality for me anymore, but no one wants to accept that integral fact. I lower my sharp tone back to the hushed whispers we had both been speaking in, cursing that damn Marian just for the sake of being yet another person I need to be considerate of. I am fucking tired of being considerate, I'm the tortured one here, people should walk on eggshells for me and not the other way around. My voice goes back to its angry heights for the sake of sheer rebellion, "Like right now, I don't know if I should love you or curse you for giving me this. One moment I'm sure Seth, and then I'm just not." And I'm sure I sound pathetic, like a child whining to an adult who can never understand this alien point of view.

He digs his hand in his still damp curls, cursing under his breath as he deftly avoids my eyes again. Frustration laces his every move, and it feels like an eternity as I watch him tense up right in front of me. And however unlikely, for a tiny moment I'm glad he's abandoned his short-lived bravery, it made me so uncomfortable. Another hiss of anger escapes my curly boy, and I wonder if he curses the same people as I do. The whitecoats, Doctor Van Dale, God, my father, my mother… me? Oh please, I hope he doesn't curse me, it's my madness' fault. I cannot help this anger itching against my skin, these devious whispers that tempt me to hurt myself and wreck everything I care for. His calm collected face is all flustered now, and my insides flop helplessly at the thought of my salvation, my Seth, tiring of me so soon.

"I thought this was the right thing to do. I…I spent all night, I don't know, just sitting there, staring at those damn things…" Seth gestures angrily at the tattered books in my arms, and the soft stutter stretching his words seems to snarl at me, "thinking about what I promised, about protecting you. I don't know either. I'm trying here Summer."

Guilt churns in my stomach, and I hold the diaries closed to my heart, feeling them throb painfully against my ribcage. I feel like the eternal coward, and there is no self-pity left to spare for me.

"I thought this was the right thing to do." He repeats with less fire this time, less confidence. He's back to being a boy, a sweet delicate twisted little boy who wants to help but can't figure out how. A boy brave enough to admit that sometimes he just doesn't know.

And despite common sense, aside from my heart going out to him so, it only manages to make me angry. I don't understand why, but watching him in this unlit hallway as this unkind fatigue tugs at my limbs, I can't help myself. Any sense is flushed right out of me, and I'm back to being the wild woman who got sent to solitary holes. I feel red sparks shooting through my veins. I will not be the one at fault, I just won't be. Because aren't I the victim? Am I not the one who's been cut here?

"You'll be the one who saves me and I'll be the thing that wrecks you. Isn't that the game we are playing here?" I hold my breath for a moment, hoping the lack of oxygen will calm me down so I don't do anything foolish. The moment seems unholy, like I am committing a deadly sin against a saint, but I can't care since he is pushing hard against my boundaries. Those treacherous outlines that keep me from falling apart, and aren't they all I have anymore?

"I know," I shakily interrupt when he attempts to speak. "I know I am unreasonable, but I'm allowed!" I hold the books tighter to myself, biting my lip so hard that I taste my own blood. It isn't like I remembered. "I just wish you would realize that I am not as brave as you. That I don't have as much faith in myself, in this…" For a second I curl my fingers tighter around my diaries, unsure of what I am trying to say. I gesture between the two of us, too frantic even for a crazy woman. "In us." I end softly.

"Sweetheart," he tries to soothe, quirking into a weak smile that only makes me shake my head. His confidence radiates off of him in waves, and I hold my breath for a moment. "I need some space. No," I shake my head, conviction making the traitorous skin at my wrists itch as if it were on fire again. "I need a lot of space Seth, and I can't give you what you need. I can't let you save me just yet."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you…" I look up at him, watch him squint at me in the semi-darkened hallway, and for the life of me I can't keep the flutter out of my heart. The anticipation is always there, and yet the fear of not holding up to my end of the bargain makes me cower a little. He falters, blushing like the boy he is deep down underneath all the shiny new bravado. "I don't know how." Seth licks his lips, glancing between my face and the pair of books held tightly in my embrace. "I don't know how to fix this, or help you…" I curl my fingers tighter around my bundle, my eyes prickling with moisture at his words, and then simply drop them with a thud. I frame his face with my little hands, barely being able to brush my fingertips against the little curls at his temples…and I kiss him, decisive in my moves I pull back again to look at him. He looks stunned, a vision that I remember all too well yet cannot place. I am used to this, and kiss him again to jar the loose bits in my brain. He holds me to him for much longer than I intend, and we part for air.

"I just wanted you to be honest." I say and shrug gently, feeling tiny again as his big hand smoothes my hair back from my face. "That's all I wanted." And I try to say that I want him more fiercely now that I know he's petrified like me. Now that he's clueless too. "I know," Seth managed to let out hoarsely, and the thought of him being a mindreader hops through my brain again. "That's all…" I say once more, and Seth bends down to pick up the books I had dropped so carelessly.

I yawn, just as the sun decides to lighten up the shadows around us, which makes Seth grin a little. "Thank you." I offer smoothly, smiling as well while patting my books a little nervously. Tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear, he presses his lips to my forehead, murmuring his goodnights or goodmornings when I know neither of us will ever get a wink of sleep all after this.

I watch him turn away from me, unsure and slow in his steps, like he doesn't quite know what to do with himself now that he's done what he set out to do. He walks away, off to find his bed again I think, and it rattles me again so I turn away as well, trying to hold onto the light ending of this particular episode. And suddenly I'm running past Marian, past my bed…

Click, and I'm locked in the bathroom. Unsure of myself, and my intentions again, I drop myself to the floor. Cooling my bare legs against the gleaming white of this little room, it takes a while before I realize I'm sitting here in darkness. I finally reach up to flip on the light, blinking back harshly against the loud fluorescent glare. My fingers flick and flutter along the pages, opening one of the diaries on a daring whim. I want to read but my eyes blur and water as if protecting me from myself. I feel wilder now that Seth has left my side. When he turned his back on me, all notions of sleep or peace vanished with the swift shuffle of my feet against the carpeted floor, and these small books tittered at me to open them. To have a glance, to finally understand. A loud sob escapes me in an unguarded moment, and my eyes focus unexpectedly, do as they are told…and yet I can't look just yet. My mind is being assaulted with violent thoughts, whispering my inadequacy, my inability to handle what I cradle so tenderly in the palms of my hands.

I don't want to feel this way, all sour and cold and at the verge of tears, but I feel like I am a mirror of her lately. Like her mood swings are latching onto me and slowly sinking in. I hardly see her smile anymore. I remember that she used to be happier with us, with me. I almost asked Daddy what was wrong, but I know that he'd just smile indulgently and dismiss me before I had chance to ask. I want to know why my name keeps popping up in their sharp loud fights, why her eyes seem so mean lately.

I trace the words, too foreign to have been mine. Too manufactured, and far too distance to be a reflection of who I thought I was. I wonder if Seth read all of this, if he could tell me how to best react to it. My right hand is quivering a little, and I clench it into a fist to make it stop. The thought of him having read this, all of these words seems petrifying all at once and I swallow hard to rid myself of the taste of bile in my mouth. I reread the last sentence scrawled almost illegibly at the bottom of the page, before shutting the diary and pushing the books off of my lap. An image of a kind lady who turned cold for no apparent reason trickles along my brain, but nothing settles but the weird sensation of not being able to recognize my own handwriting. "She'll leave soon." Something inside me made me say it aloud, and in an hard unforgiving way I press the heels of my hands to my eyes to stop them from leaking. And no matter how hard I think about it, I can't remember hearing a goodbye.