Rating: heavy PG-13 for language and sexual innuendo.

Feedback: Greatly appreciated. I won't withhold writing for feedback, but it certainly makes it feel more worthwhile. I'd love to hear anything, a sentence you liked, a piece of the story, your general thoughts. Anything.

Author's Notes: The title and poetry are from the poem "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Elliot. I don't speak Spanish, so I'm hoping my brief usage of it is correct. This chapter was hard, because it's the only chapter in which I'm not designing the plot or events myself, so I hope it works and blends pretty well with the other chapters. I'm presuming, given the double-overnight of the trip, that the kids started out Friday morning, and the episode ended on Saturday night.

……

Chapter 11: Dissolve

"Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,

The muttering retreats

Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels"

……

Saturday, September 6, 2003:

Summer pretended to be asleep for awhile after she heard Marissa dissolve into tears across the motel room. She knew that, as the best friend, she was supposed to get up and offer her support. But she just didn't want to. So she lay on her side, facing away from the rest of the room, and tried to keep her breathing as shallow and even as possible.

It had been a bizarre day, to say the least. Summer wasn't even sure where to begin unraveling the thread that had led her to be falling asleep in a disgusting motel room on the highway to Tijuana — in a bed with Seth Cohen, of all people. It was pretty high on a list on scenarios that a few weeks ago she would have deemed utterly out of the question.

She took a steadying breath and checked the motel-provided alarm clock on the bedside table. Only 1:45. Damn. She was hoping for later, for any time that would justify her waking the others and getting far far away from this disgusting room. The clock itself was so old that the numbers weren't digital, they were those weird plastic flaps that flipped over with a soft click. It had to be like an antique or something.

With a sigh, Summer slowly eased herself into a sitting position, staring into the corners of the room as her eyes adjusted. She was on the far side of the bed; Seth was taking up the space next to her, and beyond him Marissa lay curled up on the pullout couch. Beside Marissa's bowed head Summer could just make out the shadowed figure that was Ryan, the newest complication in their lives.

Actually, Summer supposed she could blame this whole mess on Ryan. The summer had been an unremarkable string of parties and beaches until the blond, baby-faced boy had shown up mysteriously one night at a Newport event. At the time no one knew that he was being adopted by the offbeat Cohen family, only that within the space of a few weeks he'd been released from jail, beat up by Luke, involved in arson, and arrested again. The regularity of Summer's life was quickly dissolved. Marissa and Luke had broken up, then had sex for the first time. Parties were suddenly never complete without at least one fist fight.

At first, the excitement that had come with Ryan's arrival had been a much needed relief from the tedium of the high school social scene. In her better moments, Summer would admit that she'd found Ryan attractive at first, and had briefly entertained fantasies about backing him into a closed bedroom at a party, pulling off that button-down shirt that didn't fit him right, and showing him all the techniques she'd learned from Holly and practiced on guys like Marc Grossman.

But no, like every other straight guy in Newport, Ryan had a thing for Marissa. Perfect Marissa with her long legs and the untouchable aura of the girl in the mansion next door. That in itself was enough to lessen Summer's initial enthusiasm. Not to mention it seemed like things always got messy when Ryan was around: fights, fires, even firearms. He'd brought one of his criminal friends to a party and the jerk had actually gone and shot Luke in the arm! Plus, whenever Ryan went somewhere, Seth Cohen was always there too, talking too much and tripping over himself left and right. By late August, in Summer's opinion, Ryan had definitely worn out his welcome.

Why she'd agreed to get in a car with him and Seth and drive to Mexico yesterday was now far beyond her powers of comprehension. She supposed, in the frenzy of not having a ride to Tijuana and being desperate to be a part of the last big party of the summer, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Obviously, she hadn't been thinking clearly. It had been awfully hot in the Crab Shack that day.

It certainly wasn't hot right now. That afternoon, waiting to hitch a ride after their car broke down, the heat had warped the horizon into shimmering waves and Summer had felt ready to faint. But now that the sun had set, the temperature had dropped dramatically. Summer shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. She wished she had something else to put on, a cozy sweater or something.

She'd packed for a weekend of hedonistic fun: bikinis, miniskirts, tube tops. In the hopes of ending the trip in the arms and bed of a handsome guy — preferably a senior water polo player like Erik Dill — she'd brought only a creamy satin negligee that she'd stolen from Celeste. It was a flirty, coed hotel room kind of garment, meant to be removed as quickly as possible and kicked aside in a moment of passion. It was too skimpy for this chilled room and way too nice to be worn in a moldy motel on the highway, curled up between polyester sheets beside Seth Cohen.

For the first time, Summer allowed herself to glance to her right and study Seth in the dim blue light. He'd apparently learned about deodorant since the fifth grade, that much she was thankful for. And as much as she'd balked at sharing the bigger bed with him, she had to admit that he was a much better bed-mate than Marissa. Marissa was a wanton sleeper, with extraordinarily bony elbows and sharp knees. Seth hadn't so much as moved in over an hour.

He was curled in the fetal position facing her, hands tucked up under his chin. He'd always struck her as the snoring type, but he slept quietly, breathing lightly through his mouth like a baby. Summer was momentarily struck by his little-boy vulnerability, the dark feather of his lashes against his cheek. It was easier to appraise him now that he was no longer a blur of kinetic energy, and yet somehow also harder to look at him.

Summer really wished she hadn't kissed him last week. It had been an idiotic idea, born of a moment that had no context beyond the starlit pool at his grandfather's birthday party. She had spent ages afterward chiding herself for letting foolishness take over, for allowing herself for one brief second to be vulnerable in front of a boy. She'd stopped doing that after everything with Greg. It was just easier to shut off her emotions around guys. That way she never got hurt.

That was why she'd been so cold to Seth since that brief kiss. Not that it meant anything to her, obviously. She was just worried that he'd expect something more from her. A few rumors had surfaced ever since her close encounter with Greg, and had floated around her more rapidly during the summer. She had that dumbass Marc Grossman and his big mouth to thank. How was she supposed to have known that a few hasty fumblings in a closet at Aimee's house would soon be common knowledge? They'd never gone all the way, but apparently that hadn't been the way that Marc told the story.

In all honesty, part of the reason she was still awake was that she was a bit terrified of what Seth might expect from her, of them sharing a bed together. Given the rumors she thought maybe he'd try something that, despite her daydreams and inclusion of the negligee in her suitcase, she just wasn't ready to do. There was a reason she still pulled away from boys any time their hands strayed under her skirt.

Summer supposed that she might be using this mutual sleeping situation to test Seth. His lack of kissing skills certainly suggested that he had no idea what he was doing, and was miles from trying anything beyond a PG rating, but you never knew. Was his naive act for real? Not that it really mattered — she so wasn't the least bit interested in him — but for once it would be nice to relax beside a guy who wasn't out to violate her.

A lengthy yawn overtook this line of thought, and Summer decided she might try for sleep again. Carefully, trying not to make any noise on the creaky mattress, she slid back down until her head hit the pillow. Beside her, Seth stirred, lifting his head slightly off the pillow. Summer froze, but his eyes remained closed. He frowned a little, like a fretful child, and slid closer to her on the bed. Summer kept her arms pulled tight to her chest until he stopped moving, his nose practically resting on her shoulder. She pushed aside her initial instinct to kick him in the shins and bitch him out for invading her side of the bed; his body heat was a definite comfort against the cool night air.

She tumbled into sleep listening to the easy rhythm of Seth's breathing, relaxing despite the situation, despite herself. She told herself later that the day's events had been so exhausting that she completely passed out, totally losing touch with the world, and that was why she woke up in the morning curled up against Seth's chest, her head tucked safely beneath his chin.

……

Summer really wished that she'd worked harder in her Spanish classes over the years. It wouldn't solve any of the big problems right now, but at least she'd be able to understand some of the blur of words surrounding her. She knew she wouldn't get all the medical terminology, but she might be able to ask someone for reassurance, to do something.

She just felt so helpless, perched on a wooden bench in the bustling Tijuana ER, knees pulled up to her chest. Last year Holly had gotten food poisoning and they'd gone to a different hospital, one that catered to rich California kids, and Summer had been able to help. This ER had been closer to where they found Marissa, so even though it was smaller and harder to navigate as Americans, they had rushed here. The hubbub of colloquial Spanish and suspicious glares from local patients scared Summer. She didn't belong here.

With his AP Spanish placement and natural gift of the gab Seth had fast become the designated translator, doing his best to keep up with the medical personal. And Ryan had refused to leave Marissa's side since they'd found her passed-out in that alley. There was nothing left for Summer to do but sit and blame herself. If only she hadn't let Marissa leave the motel on her own. If only she hadn't left Celeste's painkillers unattended in her purse. If only she hadn't let Marissa see Luke in the club, making out with Holly.

She could at least blame Seth for that one as well. Without him around she'd never have left Marissa's side, would have spotted Luke first and steered Marissa away from an inevitable confrontation. But instead she and Seth were dancing, fooling around on their own and she wasn't paying attention like she should have been.

Maybe it was Mexico, maybe it was the way they'd woken up face to face, maybe it was just the fact that she'd been sparring with him for so long that hostility had morphed into fondness; whatever it was, something had been different between her and Seth that day. They had still argued, but there was an underlying truce to their banter. When she'd first stirred in the morning light he'd been staring at her with a seriousness in his eyes that gave her a flutter in her chest, and made her forget his constant immaturity for a moment. Just for a moment. And then, after eating breakfast with him and riding shotgun in the car and picking up Celeste's medication with him in tow, she'd realized that she was surprisingly having fun.

At the club, while letting Seth spin twirl her to the music, she'd actually made up her mind to hook up with him that evening. Obviously, whatever happened in Mexico would stay in Mexico. She knew she'd have to get him to agree to that, because it wasn't like she'd ever let things go beyond a motel room south of the border. But for the night it could be fun, and nice, and she could maybe teach him a thing or two. Maybe if she gave in and gave him the physical attention he wanted from her, he'd stop hanging around her all the time.

That plan was shot to hell now. Marissa had taken a fun mix of vodka and vicodin and turned this evening on its head. She'd barely been breathing when the three of them had finally found her.

Summer tried to listen to Seth's conversation, as he was now talking with a serious-looking man in a white coat. Summer wasn't sure if she should be relieved or worried that they were finally hearing from a real doctor. He was speaking very swiftly, explaining something to Seth who was apparently having almost as much trouble following him as she was, because he kept begging the doctor, "Puedes hablar un poco mas despacio por favór!"

A nurse at the information desk held a phone against her shoulder and called to the doctor, "El helicóptero está aquí!"

Understanding that much, Summer stood, shouldering her bag, and tried to catch someone's eye. But everyone ignored her as the doors to the trauma room flew open and several attendants rushed past, pushing a gurney. Summer nearly tripped over the bench in her effort to get out of the way, catching her breath when she caught sight of Marissa's face. Her best friend looked close to death, frighteningly pale; her mouth was coated in the charcoal they'd used to make her vomit up the pills. Ryan jogged behind, eyes fixed on the gurney as he followed them into the elevator.

Summer sank back down onto the bench, fighting the persistent voice in her mind that whispered that this could be it. Marissa could really die. Summer could end up one of those sad girls in teen magazines, telling her story in a scare-tactic article entitled "I Let My Best Friend Die." And even if Marissa didn't die, it wasn't as if anything could ever be the same again.

She'd learned this morning, after breakfast, that Marissa's tears the night before had been because her parents were getting divorced. Summer had guessed that Jimmy and Julie had been having trouble ever since Jimmy had lost all that money, but their happy marriage had been such a fixture of her childhood. She couldn't begin to imagine a world in which Marissa's parents didn't flirt and kiss and watch TV cuddled on the couch.

The same with Luke and Marissa, who were definitely over after tonight. Summer recalled when she'd first befriended Marissa, right after she and Luke had started dating. And that had been in the fifth grade! In Summer's mind they were nearly as married as Marissa's parents.

Marissa had always had the life that Summer wanted. The effortless good grades and trust of all the faculty at Harbor. The statuesque beauty and innate charm that won over every guy she met. The perfect boyfriend, perfect wardrobe, perfect house and yard and neighborhood. The family that Summer had spent years pretending was hers as well.

It was as if there were nothing pure or sacred or good anymore, nothing untouched by the repercussions of this weekend. Everything Summer had vested faith in for most of her life had been swept away, ruined, broken. For years the Cooper family had been her lifeline, her tie to what life could be when you were lucky enough, but that hope and promise of happiness was lost. Lost and tainted somewhere in flawed investments, Tijuana alleys, and emergency room floors.

"Hey." Summer jumped as Seth appeared beside her. He was still holding a cell phone and looked exhausted, a shadow of his normally exuberant self. "I, uh, just called my mom." He looked down, his characteristic mumble taking over as he regarded his phone blankly, still stunned. "They said they'd call the Coopers, and that we should stay overnight in the motel. Drive back tomorrow, once we've slept."

"Marissa?" she asked softly.

He swallowed, his eyes darting up to meet hers. "They're flying her out, back to Newport." His voice cracked, whether from exhaustion or emotion she wasn't sure. There was a silence while they regarded one another, and Summer was ashamed of the plea she knew was in her eyes. Seth swallowed again. "She'll be okay."

This verbalization, this reassurance wasn't comforting in the slightest. Instead, it only acknowledged the overwhelming fears that Summer had been desperately trying to suppress, believing that if no one voiced them, they weren't true. The sorrow and sympathy in Seth's face only made those fears tangible; there was real reason to be afraid, and there might be a great need for sympathy very soon.

Summer was ashamed to feel her face crumpling like a small child's, her chin trembling, hot tears burning her eyes. In an effort to keep Seth from seeing that last shred of her dignity destroyed, she quickly brought her hands up to her face. They were shaking. All of her was shaking.

The bench creaked and suddenly Seth was holding her, his hands rubbing gentle circles on her back. He'd held her like this earlier, right when they'd first found Marissa and she'd turned away, unable to witness her friend's demise. Summer closed her eyes and tried to breathe, tried to repress the sobs that caught in her throat. His heart seemed to be going twice as fast as it should be and he smelled like sweat, but she supposed she did to. It had been a long night. And anyway, none of that mattered, not when his arms were on her back and his mouth was in her hair. Summer leaned her forehead into his chest, holding tight to a person she hoped could keep her from dissolving into a million pieces.

……

And I'm back. My deepest apologies for making you guys wait two months more than I predicted for an update. It was a really really busy fall. Thank you so much for being so endlessly patient with my writing silence; I hope I still have readers.

Anyway, that chapter was hard to write, being the only one to overlap with the TV show. It's sort of an extended scenes version from Summer's POV, but with existing parameters which made it harder to write. A combination of stress, unhappiness with the show during earlier episodes, and struggles with this chapter kept me frozen for awhile. I'm glad it's over, and I'm hoping the last chapter comes quickly. I've been planning it for awhile. Ideally, I'll finally finish this story before the end of the month, but I make no promises.

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.