Raindrops

Quicksilvre

Note: I do not own The O.C. nor do I control any part of its making. Still, I'm going to push on ahead. For the little person. (No, I have no idea what that means either, but...I'll just get on with it before I confuse myself, here ; )

-)-)-)-)

Summer looked uneasily at the door to 612. She breathed deep, calming herself. She hadn't any idea to what laid on the other side. An interview? A test of some sort? Instructions? "God, who knows," she murmured softly.

She put one ear to the door, trying to see if she could hear something. Straining herself, she was able to hear the rustle of papers. "Hmm. Could be anything."

She took one last deep breath, and turned the doorknob slowly. Pushing the door open, she peeked inside cautiously.

An old man, with a very thick and white beard, was sitting at a desk. Summer wondered at first whether it was Him, but decided it unlikely. If he was a divine being, she decided, he had a poor fashion sense. Flannel and blue jeans made up his outfit.

He looked up. His face completed the sort of mountain-man Santa look to him. "Miss Roberts?"

"Yes."

"Sit down, please." He gestured to a simple wooden chair across from him. Summer took her seat. "Welcome to death. Hope you've had a nice journey so far."

She couldn't tell if he had a genuine tone to him. He sounded a lot like a high-school principal. "Uh...kinda good to see that it's a lot like home."

"Yeah. Each person's...experience is shaped for them. From here on, you're put on your own road." He opened a manila folder that laid in front of him. "And, a lot of what you have to do on that road and where it takes you depends on what you did while you were still living."

"Oh." She swallowed. Summer didn't really like the road this was taking. Trying to think about the virtues she could present for herself, she found distressingly few things: changing for the better with Seth, volunteering at the hospital...not killing anyone....

"Now. Let's take a look." The man put on reading glasses and scanned some papers from her folder. "Family life...unstable. Very powerful father, great influence over your life. Mother...gone at an early age, followed by...many step-moms and nannies." He glanced up. "Yes?"

"Yes." She nodded and curled her knees up. Memories of sleepless nights came back to her–curled up with Princess Sparkle, listening to Daddy and Mommy–or Christine or Samantha or Lauren–screaming at each other.

Sometimes, really late at night, when they were at their most drunken, she would hear a loud smack, and her father's new squeeze would storm out, threatening to call the police.

"I...he never hurt me."

"Yeah." The man flipped through a few more pages. "Let's see how you are."

Summer hugged her knees tighter. She was seriously starting to dread this. "Sir, I–"

"Call me Keyne."

"Mr. Keyne, I...." The words stuck. Keyne stared at her, looking over the tops of his lenses. "I...I...I tried." She shut her mouth fast. God, stupid, that's the best you could do?

He just nodded. Summer continued to ramble: "I know. I know. I didn't do a lot. I didn't even do as much as other kids my age." She felt panic slowly rising within her. "I didn't know a lot–I mean, cashmere and Kashmir? I know how that looks and how that sounds but I tried to get better. I had all those magazines and newspapers the day after!" Her voice rose to hit an embarrassing whine.

He looked back down to her papers. "Was it for the guy?" Another glance down. "Zach?"

Tears stung her eyes all of a sudden. "Yes–no, I mean...." She lowered her face, unable to look Keyne in the eye. "I know. I know. I know." She rocked herself.

"What do you know?"

"I know that I don't know." A pause. "Like, anything." Her last word was punctuated with a little sob.

"That's a very good thing to know. How about anything else?"

Summer tried to breathe easily. She was able to keep from bursting into tears outright, but her breath was coming out in jerks.

"You all right?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well...sure. I'm not here to torture you. Just, improve you."

"Improve," she said miserably. What's left to improve?

Keyne opened his mouth, as if he was going to reply directly, but he changed gears. "Now, mostly the road you choose will be up to you. I'm just here to get you started." He kept reading. "Here." He handed her a handkerchief.

"No, I.'m alright...mostly." After quickly dabbing her eyes, she handed it back.

"Can I give you a bit of advice?"

"Yeah?"

"You're too dependent."

"Yeah."

"Father, Seth, Zach, Seth again. The boys in your life. You seem to say, a lot, that you'll go on your own but you never quite do."

"Yeah."

"Not that it's horrible to have role-models, or anything like that. But...I would really like to see you be able to strike out on your own and have healthy relationships too. You know what I'm saying? Be someone, while being someone else's whatever to an OK degree."

"Uh, yeah." Sort of.

"Good." He closed her envelope. "Let me write you out."

"Where...do I go from here?"

"You find what you need."

"What do I need?"

"What do you need?"

"Can't you tell me?"

"No. I wouldn't know."

"Nothing? You have the folder!" Another whine. Summer was having trouble keeping her frustration under control.

"Oh, yeah. This is yours now." He handed her file to her. "Do as you'd like with it. Personally I'd give it a good look-through." Keyne finished her pass. "Please sign on the line and you'll just go through the portal at the end of the hallway."

"Am I going to heaven?"

"Not yet."

"Where am I going?!"

Keyne nodded. "You're going." He handed her a pen. "Sign, please. We're done here."

She looked at him, straight in the eye. His eyes were a polar opposite from the rest of his scruffy body–deep blue, almost infinately so, and somehow powerful. He nodded. "Good. I liked that. Very assertive of you."

What? Summer didn't know how to respond. She took the pen from his hand, looked at him one last time, and signed.

Keyne nodded again. "Have a nice existence, Miss Roberts. I wish you well. The portal will be on your right when you leave, I would stop by the water fountain or bathroom if you need them–they're on the way and you'll do well to use them if you need them."

-)-)-)-)

Summer gulped thirstily from the fountain. She hadn't anything to eat or drink she had...passed, and that was, what? Hours ago? Days? It was hard to tell. She wasn't hungry; it couldn't have been too long.

On the other hand, death did weird things.

The portal was right in front of her–another bright light. Not blinding, but strong enough to make seeing to the other side impossible.

She sat on a bench, not five paces from it.

Do as you'd like with it. Personally I'd give it a good look-through. She looked at it.

The thing was, it didn't look like anything that she expected. It was just a few pages thick, plus some information scrawled on the outside: "Planned on future in fashion...senior in high school...sexually active...favorites: red, chocolate, The Valley, pina coladas...."

Shame swelled up in her. That was it–that was all she contributed to the world. A few lines here, and a few lines there. A year, maybe two, and she would be like she'd never existed. Her dad could be gone by then too; given the way she lived, maybe Marissa too. Cohen would go east, marry Anna, and have another woman's family. Chino...he was too distant for her to make a big impact. She suddenly felt very small and very unimportant.

A sob escaped–just one, but a powerful one, making her whole body twitch. She clamped her hand hard over her mouth, but it wouldn't be enough. Another sob pushed out, and soon they were coming right after another, in a steady stream. She didn't cry for Cohen, for Daddy–she cried for herself.

She cried at what she was, and what she wasn't. And there was no one left to hold her up.

I would really like to see you be able to strike out on your own. "Yeah, fat chance," she snarled at herself.

Be someone, while being someone else's whatever to an OK degree. She breathed again–wobbly, but without choking up.

Be someone. Be someone. "Become someone...I guess." She wiped her face off–she wished she still had the handkerchief.

"Become what??" In a sudden fit of rage, she threw her folder across the hall. "What what what??"

Someone.

"Shit!" She doubled over. She didn't even try to hold in the tears this time.

-)-)-)-)

She sucked in the last of her tears and wiped her face on her sleeve. It hardly did anything but smudge her face up; it was already pretty well saturated.

Nothing left. That is what Summer decided she had. And she had only one escape available for her.

All of her papers were gathered, messily, under her arm. She was only two steps from the portal. Even from this close, she couldn't see a damn thing on the other side.

She took one tentative step forward, then...the second never quite came. Her foot remained frozen to the floor.

Another tear escaped down her cheek. Summer wiped it away quickly. I still have those left. Another one slid down.

"Nothing left to fear now." She wiped her other cheek. "Nothing but tears." She paused and readied herself again. "Nothing to lose except those."

She drew one last deep breath for the road, and the second step came easily.

-)-)-)-)

A shopping mall.

The afterlife was a damn shopping mall. The first sight that greeted her eyes make her mouth twist into a bitter smile. "Oh, good. Something I'm good at." Looking around, she didn't notice any other check-in desk. There was only one sign:

"Prepare as you would a long vacation or a camping trip. However, you may find it advantageous to add items that may be traded for other things. Many of you will go on long journeys; pack accordingly. Take all you can carry in a backpack (supplied, below)."

Summer took one. None of them were very magical; none of them would even have been out of place in a L.L. Bean catalogue.

"Okay." She put her sack on. "I guess it starts."