The O.C

A Life Half Lived

A/N: A return to the old format in hopes of delaying the inevitable just a little longer. Hey, I think there's a story in that… delaying the inevitable. Happy reading! Genevra xxox

Summary: "I don't look sick. I am sick."

Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I affiliated with The OC. Sigh. I do however own any characters or scenarios you don't recognize. Yay!

Chapter Nineteen: Courage

Seth sat outside his wife's room, motionless. His head was resting in his hands as he breathed in, breathed out. He waited, deadly silent, stock still, as the doctor went in and did his thing. Slightly, he moved and caught sight of a girl, about twelve years of age. She was tiny and blonde, her skin was pale and sallow but she wore her brightest pink t-shirt and denim skirt and her smile never faded.

Summer reminded him of that little girl. When she was younger and she'd had a bad day, she would turn up at school wearing her brightest clothes. She never smiled, that just wasn't a Summer Roberts thing to do. Even when she was thirteen, indifference was cool. Unfriendliness was the new black. But still, if her heart was breaking and her world fell like it was going to fall apart, she would don her brightest hot pink top or lime green top and pair it with a white skirt and some brand new white trainers with pink laces. Everyone would assume she just felt like being bright today but Seth would look at her face, her eyes, and he would know. He would never look into her eyes, she would never have let that happen, but he would look at her and he would know. She lived by the mantra 'You are what you wear' and she could never understand why it didn't work.

Seth watched the little girl walk past and he realized how stupid he was being. He watched her pink t-shirted form leave the ward and he knew his lesson was learnt. Just because he couldn't deal with his wife's illness didn't mean that he had to take it out on the world. If she could be positive despite what was going on in her life, he could be the bigger man and apologise. If he didn't, Summer would never forgive him. And if he didn't call her best friend to tell her what had happened, he knew she'd kill her too.

She'd find a way.

"Summer Roberts," the teacher says, looking down at the roll. There is silence as Summer continues to chat to her friends. The teacher clucks her tongue and calls out, her voice stern. "Summer Roberts."

"Hmm," Summer says vaguely, looking up. "Oh, yeah. Here."

She blows a big pink bubble, which popped, leaving gummy residue on her chin as her friends giggled at her courage and indifference.

"Miss Roberts, how many times have I talked to you about not chewing gum in my classroom?" the teacher asks, her voice growing angrier by the second. "You've known chewing gum is against school rules since you started here. You're in Year Five now. I'd think you'd have grown out of disobeying the rules. Spit it out, please."

"Sure, whatever," she says as she blows another pink bubble. She never moves.

"Miss Roberts," the teacher snaps. Summer looks up, frightened for a second, and then she looks quickly away. She is wearing a bright yellow t-shirt today and she will be brave. She stares back, unflinchingly at the teacher, who is likewise unflustered. "If I have to ask you to remove the gum one more time, it will be an afternoon detention. Do you really want that?"

"I really don't care," she shoots back, walking slowly over to the bin. As she reaches the bin, Seth looks over at her. Her friends are giggling together but he watches her. Her chin trembles slightly and she quickly blinks back tears. When she turns around, she accidentally catches his eyes. He offers her a sympathetic smile which she returns until she remembers who he is. She narrows her eyes at him and stomps back to her seat where she is engulfed by her friends. She should never have let him in. not even for a second.

Now he knows her secret and her strength. Now he knows where her courage comes from and he knows it's not from her friends. It's from what she wears.How weird but how glamorously cool.

"Marissa," Seth said quietly. There is silence on the other end. And then there's a breath and then there's tears. "I think you should come down here."

"Ok," she replied and in that single word, Seth finds what he needs to forgive her, to understand her.

"And Marissa?" he asked, before she hangs up.

"Yeah?" she replied.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," he said. "That's all. I shouldn't have taken it all out on you. I know you're having just as hard a time as me and I'm just sorry it turned out like that."

"It's ok," she whispered, before hanging up the phone.

Seth walked away from the phone at the nurse's desk and walked slowly back to his wife's room. A nurse walked out of the room, pulling baby Emily's crib behind her.

"Mr. Cohen. I'm glad you're here," she smiled. "What room are you staying in? Should I wheel the baby there or would you like to take her yourself?"

"Take her back to nursery," he said, his voice cold. She looked at him and stepped back when she heard the tone of his voice. He was ready to forgive Marissa, she was as lost and lonely as he, but he was not ready to forgive Summer.

"Are you sure, Mr. Cohen?" the nurse asked, forcing a smile onto her face.

"I said take her back to nursery," he snapped.

"Ok, sure," the nurse replied, walking quickly away. He watched her back fading away from him and saw the pink of the blanket through the glass that held his little girl and he felt a slight tinge of regret that was quickly replaced with a feeling of utter and immense anger. Anger and pain and hurt and regret and sorrow but anger mostly.

"Seth," Marissa said, power-walking towards him. Her eyes were still red and puffy from their fight earlier and from the way she moved and breathed, he could tell she hadn't stopped crying. "Can I see her?"

He shook his head, no. She nodded and leant against the wall, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Do you know yet?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. He could feel himself getting frustrated again. She was nearly close to tears. How could she have any more tears? The noise of her breathing, of her questions was getting to him. Couldn't she tell he needed silence? He needed peace? He wanted to be alone. The only reason he had asked her here, into his special place, was because Summer had wanted her there. And if there was a chance she might open her eyes again, she would want to be there and she would want her to be there.

The door to Summer's room opened and Dr Roberts walked slowly out. He saw Marissa and Seth standing in silence, their eyes fixated upon the door and he briefly closed his eyes.

"Seth, Marissa," he spoke. "Would you like to come into my office?"

"No," Marissa said, shaking her head. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no."

"I'm sorry," the doctor said, putting it simply. What else could he say?

"No," Marissa said again. "I didn't get to see her. I didn't get to see her eyes one more time. I didn't get to hear her voice."

"There was nothing we could do," Dr. Roberts said calmly.

"Don't say it," Marissa whispered fiercely. She looked up at him and she glared. "I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear it."

"It's true," Seth said. Tears hadn't even sprung to his eyes. He felt empty. He saw Marissa gape at him, her own tears flowing freely.

"Seth, what are you talking about?" she said, her voice shrill. "She's dead, don't you get it?"

"Yes, I get it!" he shouted back. "And it's true, they couldn't do anything. She was the one that gave up. She was the one that left us."

Marissa said nothing more. Seth looked at the doctor and at her. He saw the grief in Marissa's eyes and the pity in Dr Roberts and he felt sick to his stomach. He had to get out of there. He walked away and out of the hospital to the nearest bench where he collapsed. His body felt dead. He was exhausted and he was lost.

How could she do this to him? He would never have done this to her, ever. Where had her courage gone? Her fighting spirit? She could have held on just a little longer, fought a little longer but no. She had never given up before, that just wasn't a Summer thing to do. She held on steadfast and didn't let go. She clothed herself in bright orange, in green, yellow, pink. In rainbows and fluoro and tie-dye. She fought and she lived and she loved and she gave and she took and she lived. Most of all she lived. And even more, she stayed.

But this morning when she woke up, she hadn't put on a bright yellow singlet under her pyjamas, she hadn't tied a golden ribbon in her hair, she hadn't pasted a bright red mouth on. She wasn't clothed in her courage and she'd let go.

She had left him.

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A/N: I am so sorry. I am so sorry. I am crying right now because I feel so bad. I feel horrible and I know you're all going to kill me but I had to do it. I would think so much less of myself. Oh, please don't kill me. I am really sorry.

Ok, so I know you all hate me and I'm sorry but it was what I had to do. I don't know if I'm 100 impressed with the way that last scene went but I'm so exhausted, I can't bring myself to care. I just hope you guys thought it was ok and I hope you'll continue to read it. I have to say Riley313, adambrody10, pinkdigi- you guys are pretty intuitive. You picked it up. I didn't want her death to be overly dramatic and I thought the whole getting to say goodbye to the whole family and seeing them one last time, while romantic, was a little cliché and a little overdone. To everyone who reviewed last chapter, thanks! Hope to hear from you again. sorry there isn't individual replies. I have to get this chapter up pretty quick and I'm too exhausted. Next chapter, I promise. Please still love me. ;) Gen xxox