Outside, it was early afternoon, and the shock of the searing heat after the cool interior of the courthouse was making Summer dizzy. Except for the few hours of sleep she'd caught in the car, she'd been awake for over twenty-four hours, and Ryan hadn't slept at all. Yet when they returned to the SUV, he held out his hands for the keys expectantly.

"Oh, I don't think so," she snapped. "You're going to drive us all into a ditch somewhere. Not to mention that we've got to stop somewhere and get something to eat before we start driving into the desert. Again."

He looked down at her and sighed. Dawn was already slumped against the back door, shaking, but she lifted her head at in response to Summer's sharp tone.

"You don't have to take me nowhere, kiddo. You've already done enough. You can just drop me off by home. I'll be fine."

Ryan looked at her, raw disbelief written all over his face.

"You can't go home, Mom. Look at what he did to you. Look at your face," he said.

Dawn shrugged and dropped her eyes back to the pavement, and Summer's stomach tightened -- as she was suddenly reminded of Ryan, waiting in line, refusing to meet her eyes. Ryan -- coloring aside -- didn't look that much like his mother, but their wounded-animal gestures were mirror images of one another.

"It's not that bad," she mumbled.

"It's not that good, either, Ma!" he snarled, and Summer realized that he was going for the keys only after he had snatched them from her. "Why are you back with him? What were you thinking?"

If anything, Dawn's tremors were growing as she tried to answer him, and Summer, realized, to her horror, that Dawn was about to cry.

"He loves me, baby. He's just got a little temper. You remember, he used to be so nice to us, when things were going well . . . ."

"When were things ever going well, Ma? He beat the shit out of us -- you and me and Trey. He's a bully. And now he's got you, what, running dope for him? Back on the junk again? You can't do this, Mom! You can't! You have to . . . ."

Ryan's words were practically tripping over themselves. Summer watched, fascinated, as he turned away from them both, his shoulders heaving as he breathed shallowly.

When she had first met him, she'd actually thought that Ryan had asthma, from the way he sometimes lost his breath like this, but she was beginning to recognize it as the beginning of a panic attack. She hadn't seen him like this since Oliver, so pent-up and overwrought.

She watched as his whole body tensed, and he struggled for a moment, then drew in a massive, shuddering breath. A minute later, he let it out in a long, slow sigh, and she saw his shoulders relax marginally. By the time he turned back around, his breathing was soft and steady, and his whole demeanor had changed.

He handed her back her keys with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, you're right. I'm in no shape to drive."

He turned back to his mother, and put a tentative hand on her arm.

"Mom, hey, Mom? You know what? Summer's right. I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Let's get some lunch, and we'll talk about what we're going to do next, okay?" he said, and nodded to Summer to open the car door.

Talking in the same soft voice he might have used to coax a toddler into the bath, Ryan managed to get a shaking, crying Dawn into the back seat. As Summer climbed into the driver's seat, Ryan caught her eye in the rearview mirror.

"Can you hand me one of those sodas?" he asked softly. "Not the diet ones -- the ones I got for me."

"Ew. They're going to be all gross and hot," she said, but he shook his head.

"Doesn't matter. The sugar will help a little with the withdrawal, at least until we can hit a drive-through. I'm sorry, we can't go in anywhere -- not like this," he gestured with his head to where his mother was hunched over on the seat.

Summer fished around the broiling interior of the car until she found their abandoned grocery bag, and handed over a bottle of Coke that was actually hot to the touch.

"Sorry, Mrs. Atwood, it's pretty gross," she said, but Dawn appeared not to hear her.

"C'mon, Ry, baby. You know that doesn't do shit to help. Just drop me off near home. I'll be fine, and you won't need to think about me. Not ever again . . . " she wheedled.

In the mirror, Summer saw Ryan flinch, and close his eyes briefly, but his voice stayed soft and calm.

"Ma, you know I always think about you -- and wonder how you're doing. I wrote you letters at your last address. They never came back, so I thought you got them. How can I not worry about you when you're all strung out like this? Here, take a sip -- you'll feel better," he said.

Summer had turned on the car and rolled down the windows, but the sweat was pouring down her back, and the stench -- a combination of Eau de Dawn, the stale butts in the ashtray and her own perspiration -- was making her sick to her stomach.

"I'm just going to start driving back towards the center of town," she said, as cheerfully as she could muster. "There were plenty of restaurants back that way. Anyone have a preference?" she asked, but wasn't particularly surprised not to get a response.

As soon as was humanly possible, she turned the air-conditioning on full blast, but left the windows down as she listened to Ryan murmuring to his mother, coaxing her to drink just a little bit more. Whatever had triggered his outburst by the side of the car was well-hidden now, and his face was as carefully blank as his voice was soft.

By the time she reached the edge of the main strip, Dawn was crying again, begging Ryan.

"C'mon, baby, just a little stop. I know you hate it, but I won't do it anymore after that, Please, kiddo, I'm dyin' here."

Summer swung into the driveway of the first fast-food restaurant she saw. She hadn't even registered what it was -- it could have been an Arby's -- she just wanted to do something to help.

"Um, Ryan?" she asked as she took her place in line behind all the rest of the lunchtime crowd, "Is there anything special . . . " she let the thought trail off as she saw him look up and catch her eye again in the rear-view mirror. He was trying for a smile, she supposed, but it looked more like a grimace of pain.

"She needs sugar. Another couple sodas, maybe a shake? I don't think she'll keep anything else down. Maybe a couple hamburgers for us?" he added, and he started to scoot up on his knees to find his wallet.

"Don't worry about it," she ordered, and for a moment she thought he would fight her, but then Dawn began to whimper again, and he gave up without a struggle.

By the time they had each wolfed down a couple of burgers and coaxed another soda and half a chocolate shake into Dawn, the windows of the car were covered in condensation, and the sun had long passed its zenith. Dawn appeared to be dozing in the back seat, and Ryan was still seated next to her, his head thrown back against the headrest, eyes closed, his left hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Ryan?" Summer half-whispered, but he opened his eyes immediately.

"Yeah?"

"What time do we have to be there?" she asked, "It's already after two."

"The order says she's got until midnight. And the facility has a 24-hour intake, but they said that if we get there before six, they'll have a full staff on. In the condition she's in -- I-I'd just feel better about it if we can get her there by six."

"Oh, um, the thing about the 24-hour intake -- and the staff -- was that in the brochure?"

"No. I called the number while you guys were in the bathroom. I talked to someone named Cathy, we're supposed to ask for her if we get there before six."

"So, should we -- what should we do?" she asked, sort of gesturing to the nodding Dawn.

"We should probably stop and get her stuff," he said, wearily, "I wouldn't put it past A.J to dump it all when he realized she's gone. If he even realizes she's gone 'til he needs his next fix and he's got no money coming in. Whatever."

He sat up straight and ran a hand through his hair again.

"It's not like she'll have much, anyway," he said, and shifted, patting the pockets of his discarded hoodie, and pulling out the crumpled pack. "I'm just gonna step outside and have a smoke, do you care?"

She gathered up the remainder of their lunch.

"No, I'll stay here with your mom. Go do whatever. I've got your back," she said, in her best tough-girl voice, and was rewarded with a half-smile for her troubles. "Take the lunch stuff with you, though, could you?"

Ryan reached for her bag of trash and -- just like that -- Dawn was awake again. Ryan's body was still half-leaning over the arm rest of the car when she reached out for him. Summer didn't see exactly what she did, but Ryan practically flew back across the car, plastering himself against the passenger door.

"Mom!" he shouted, "Don't! You promised."

He sounded so mortally, terribly offended, that for a moment Summer couldn't figure out what he meant. She was pretty sure that, for most families, a mother's promise not to be a heroin-addicted junkie whore who calls her teen-aged son for bail -- or abandons him with with strangers -- or lets him get hit by her on-again off-again lover/drug dealer -- was implicit. But regular rules didn't seem to apply in the Atwood family. So, Summer fleetingly entertained the thought that maybe Dawn had actually verbalized this promise to Ryan -- as improbable as that would be.

"Come on, baby, you know I can make it good for you. Better than your rich bitch girlfriend. Just give me a little hit, and I'll do anything you want -- anything" Dawn reached for him across the back seat.

Summer knew that if there was a way to claw himself outside of the car, Ryan would have found it by now. His back was pressed firmly against the door, and he was alternating between hunching over himself protectively and pulling back away from his mother. The look on his face -- a mixture of pity, disgust and outright terror -- made Summer want to cry.

Instead, she decided that an intervention was called for.

"Mrs. Atwood -- Dawn," she called, and as soon as the woman's attention was pinned on her, Ryan found the door handle and scrambled out of the back seat.

"What?" Dawn slurred, and Summer was pretty sure -- not that it made it any better -- that she couldn't tell Ryan from a hole in the ground right about now.

"Just hang in there a little longer. We're going to go get your stuff now, and then the nice people at Sagewinds are going to make you feel better. You must be really tired after your long night, hunh?"

It amazed her that that what Peggy had said about Cotillion skills being useful in real life might actually be true. Drunken Newpsie or druggy whore, everyone responded to polite conversation. Dawn was doing her best to focus on her as Ryan opened the front passenger door and slid into the front seat. For a moment, it looked like Dawn might lunge for him again, but she blinked heavily and leaned back against her own seat, instead, her eyes closing involuntarily.

Without a word, Summer opened the small dashboard ashtray, upended its contents into the remains of their lunch, and pushed in the dashboard lighter. She handed the bag to Ryan, who lowered his window briefly and chucked it in the general vicinity of the trash cans ringing the outside of the parking lot. His face still flushed, he slowly unclenched his right fist, stopped squeezing the life out of the remaining cigarettes, and extracted one with shaking fingers as he waited for the lighter to pop.

"No offense, Chino," she whispered, with a sidelong glance at the slumping Dawn, "But one of those had better be for me."

He laughed a little, quietly, and pulled another cigarette out of the dwindling remains. With the same unself-conscious ease of their earlier ride, he put both into his mouth and lit them, one after the other, then passed one to Summer wordlessly.

The filter tasted very faintly of ketchup and mint toothpaste, much like Ryan himself must. She took a deep drag, which was her first mistake. She hadn't really smoked since Coop got caught shoplifting a pack of Virginia Slims during their freshman year, and her father had made her watch a two-hour slide show of diseased lungs on the big-screen television in the family room.

She coughed, and Ryan patted her on the back automatically, as they both craned their necks towards the back seat. Dawn stirred, but didn't totally awaken as she started to pick at the skin on her arms.

"We'd better get going," Ryan said when Summer had recovered enough to breathe, "Before things get any worse."

"Ookay," she agreed, still slightly breathless, "But where the hell are we going? Princess Charming back there is out like a light, and "I'm sure as hell not waking her up again."

Ryan raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't disagree.

"I know where she's staying. It's the same place where we always used to stay when we were kids. The Wonder Lodge. I've got the address," he added, pulling the same crumpled looseleaf out of his pocket again.

She programmed the GPS, and he took the remains of her unsmoked cigarette from her without a sarcastic comment, sticking it in his mouth to replace the one he had just finished. He was going to need to run about a thousand laps before his lungs -- or his coach -- would forgive him for this weekend.