I do not own The O.C. or any of the characters in this story.

A/N: This is my attempt at a non-romantic multi-chapter fic. Wish me luck. It's going to be around 11 chapters.

Summary: Ryan's need to care for the child that might be his, shatters the friendship he's developed with his almost-brother. This story examines how this changes both boys and how they try to mend their broken bond. It's post finale and not slash. Theresa will also be chiming in on the story from time to time.

P.S.

I know this might sound a little like one of the storylines in Whistles and Echoes but I promise you that it is completely different. I hope you enjoy it.

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"So how are you finding everything?" Kirsten asked Ryan. They'd had four phone conversations in as many days and even though she tried to word it differently, that question always came up. After living with her for almost a year, he'd learned to read between the lines and knew that was just her way of saying she missed him. And he missed her too, but he couldn't tell her because it'll only serve to hurt them both. Saying it would give her an opportunity to ask him to return to Newport and he didn't want to have to say 'no'.

The city that had been his home for sixteen years, that he'd rarely ventured out of, felt very strange. 'Even this house,' he said to himself, looking around Theresa's living room. In his early teen days, he'd spent as much time in it as he had at his mother's – first to hang out with Arturo, later to be with Theresa, but the smell and feel of the place had become foreign to him.

"Did you say something?" Kirsten asked.

"Oh, no. So how's Sandy? They are really working him at the office; I've only been able to speak with him once since I left."

"I know," she replied, hesitantly. Ryan didn't want to push – it was obvious that there was something she wasn't telling him, but he figured that it was somehow related to the case, that there was something sensitive about it that kept him working long hours and her, from telling him about it. Not that she normally shared that side of her husband's life with him anyway.

"What about Seth?" Ryan inquired.

"He's fine."

"Is he home?" he asked, anticipating the response.

"No, he's out with some friends," she replied, clearly lying. In all the time Ryan had known him, Seth had barely had a friend talk less of the plural form of the word. The Newport clique was small minded and since he didn't fit in their mold, they rejected him. Ryan on the other hand, had liked him instantly. It wasn't really Seth's quirkiness but his openness and willingness to share himself that he found so endearing, and for whatever reason, Seth reciprocated the feelings, which made their awkward goodbye even the more painful.

Ryan had worried about it from the moment he climbed into Theresa's car and hadn't stopped since he'd arrived in Chino. All he wanted to do was speak to him and make sure everything was alright but he wasn't being given the chance. It appeared that no matter what time he called, Seth was never home. One didn't have to be clairvoyant to see that Seth was avoiding him.

"That's great. I'm glad he's making more friends," Ryan said in a monotone.

"Yeah…," Kirsten replied, her voice almost inaudible.

"Anyway, Kirsten, I've got to go. Theresa's mother knows a guy who's the supervisor at some place about thirty minutes from here and he agreed to meet with me after work. I guess I'll be speaking with you tomorrow?"

"Yes," she replied, sounding a little sad. "You shouldn't call like this so much – you're incurring long distance charges."

"No –"

"Ryan, how many times am I going to have to tell you to reverse the charges when you call us?" When Ryan didn't respond, she continued, "I'll call you tomorrow around 8pm. Is that alright?"

"Yes, Kirsten."

"This number is different. Which one should I use?"

"Oh, I'm using a phone card. I normally use Theresa's cell for the free night minutes. You can call me on the house phone – the number I gave you on Wednesday."

"Great. And Ryan…"

"Yes?"

"Make sure you take care of yourself."

"I will, Kirsten."

----

Seth walked in as his mother put the phone receiver down.

"Hey, Mom," he said apprehensively, setting down his duffle bag on the coffee table and rubbing his palms together. All his family had had from him in five days was the barely legible note he'd left for them. Not that he normally wrote badly, but he'd decided that the more indecipherable it was, the better, that way, he could claim to have written a whole bunch of stuff he hadn't even thought of.

"Well, who do we have here?" his mother mocked from across the room. 'Mom, you really shouldn't do that,' he said under his breath. His mother wasn't known for her great sense of humor, and somehow, sarcasm kind of went hand in hand with that.

"Mom --"

"No," she interrupted, waving her finger, "Don't you dare 'Mom' me. For starters, you are grounded. I know your father always wants us to discuss these things first but I'm sure he'll make an exception this time. Secondly, what the hell is wrong with you? Why did you think leaving us a note and going to God-knows-where was a good idea? Why, Seth?"

Seth didn't really know what to say. He'd expected this scene on his return but he hadn't quite figured out what to do when it finally came. So he kept his mouth shut.

"What's wrong with you Seth? Aren't in a chatty mood? By the way, you are grounded till you leave for college. And by grounded, I mean that till school starts, you'll have a 5 o'clock curfew. And by 5, I mean 5pm, so don't even think of getting smart with me and trying to play that off as 5am. And during the school year, you are to be home no later than thirty minutes after your last class. Do you hear me?"

He nodded. He'd only returned because he'd run out of money but sleeping on the street suddenly started looking really good to him.

"And another thing," she started in a strong voice. 'What now?' he said to himself. He couldn't believe there was any way to make the punishment any more severe. "Come here," she said, crooking her finger.

Nervous, Seth obeyed. His parents weren't big on corporal punishment but he figured five days was long enough for one to have a change in ideology. When he was standing in front of her, she stretched her hand to him and rubbed his face. Then she started feeling his body, as if to make sure that no bones were broken and that everything was in working order. When she was satisfied that he was alright, she pulled him to her and held on tight.

"Don't you ever do that again," she whispered in a stilted voice. Seth responded by putting his arms around her.

"Do you realize what your father and I have gone through these last few days?"

"I'm sorry, Mom," he replied, feeling her tears seep through his shirt. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Well, you should have known better," she said, breaking away from him then grabbing a tissue from its box and wiping under her eyes.

Seth had started walking away when he heard his mother call him. He turned around.

She was holding the phone receiver to her ear and Seth assumed she was about to call his father. "Once you get settled in, call Ryan. He's been calling to talk to you but I didn't have the heart to tell him you'd gone on a vacation, excursion, field trip or whatever you want to call it. By the way, start thinking of how you're going to explain yourself because once your father gets back, we're all going to have a sit-together to hear all about it. Okay?"

"Okay Mom," he replied, picking up his bag and heading to his room. Sure, he'd come up with a creative way to explain his escape, even surf the internet for ideas if need be. But calling Ryan? He didn't think so. What could he possibly have to say to the ex-friend who had tossed him away like a director's cut of Gigli?