-1The Vigil

Summer thinks she is prepared for the night she has ahead of her. After all, she's seen every episode of The Valley and, therefore, been eyewitness to more than four major operations. But as it turns out, surgery on a traumatic gunshot wound is not as routine a procedure as primetime drama might suggest.

For one thing, there's a lot more silence. Her favorite television show takes great care to cut the bulk of the waiting down to a few soulful gazes exchanged while the latest emo hit plays in the background. The actual experience lacks both - everyone is avoiding everyone else's gaze in the small room Julie secured for them once Sandy arrived and convinced her to let him handle the police.

Seth is the only one to attempt conversation. Julie, his first choice, proves to be not in the mood when she actually growls at his inquiry of whether or not Marissa has a new pair of silver bracelets to add to her jewelry collection.

"Okay, she may have been married to my grandfather, but she does not the whole 'Cohens make awkward jokes to get through awful situations' thing," Seth whispered to Summer, sliding into the folding chair next to her.

"Cohen." Summer gives him an only slightly less murderous version of Julie's death stare. "Nobody gets that except you."

"It just takes some getting used to, that's all," he defends, looking to his oldest ally for help. "Right, Ry?"

Ryan doesn't answer. He does, however, sigh heavily and slump lower in his chair, until Summer thinks he is in danger of becoming one with the floor. "Hey, how 'bout we go grab some fresh air, Ryan?" she jumps in. "It'll do you some good."

Seth snickers. "No offense, Sum, but I think Ryan could use a little bit more than fresh air right now."

"Oh, did you have a better idea?"

His smug smile flickers a bit at the challenge. "A nice ... guy talk," he decides. "A little man to man action. Nothing a female such as yourself would understand."

Her eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. "A female such as myself? Well -"

"Your concern is touching," Ryan finally breaks in, a ghost of his usual wry tone tinting the words. "Both of you. But you can stop talking about me like I'm not right here. I think I will go get some air."

Summer buries her elbow in Seth's ribs and, over his muffled groan, hisses, "Told ya so." He nods and waves her away, doubling over to ease the pain.

Ryan ignores them both, looking pained himself as he rises off the uncomfortable chair with a grimace. Summer recalls the struggle that has brought them all here. He hasn't let anyone touch him since they'd arrived at the ER, not even to clean his wounds, and there is a particularly nasty gash on his forehead that just screams 'infection'.

"Should I go with him?" Seth wonders aloud, as Ryan disappears into the hustle and bustle of the ER's . "We could have our little guy chat, kill two birds with one stone ..."

"I think this one requires a little bit of tact," Summer sighs, watching the blond boy's retreating form. Her hand shoots out to keep Seth in his seat. "I'll go."

XXX

"Can I ... go yet?"

Marissa has given her statement to an officer, a lieutenant, and Sandy, who is acting like a lawyer and not her boyfriend's father and thus, making her very nervous. She remembers every minute detail vividly and has not changed or distorted a single fact. She thinks that should be it; she has done her civic duty, she has performed a terrible but necessary act, and she would like to go home now.

But pajamas, hot chocolate, and forgetting this ever happened to not seem to be in the cards for her. At least, not tonight. Right now, she is being escorted to an even smaller, more private room within the hospital; a place where Sandy assures her they will be able to discuss the matter at hand privately.

She wants to scream. The matter at hand is that she is a kind of tired coffee can't help with, hungrier for much more than candy bars from a vending machine, and irrevocably injured in a way the hospital workers can not heal.

"So. Let's start at the beginning," Sandy proposes. The room houses three folding chairs arranged around a wobbly table, but he is pacing, which doesn't improve her nerves any. "You arrived at the hotel around what time?"

Marissa stares at her hands. They are folded in her lap, the proper way Julie drilled into her head when she was younger. It's hard to believe that a few hours ago, they were wrapped around a cold piece of medal, squeezing a trigger ...

"Marissa." Sandy is seated now, ducking his head to try and meet her eyes. "You still with me?"

"Yeah - yes. Yes, sorry, I'm listening." She clears her throat, shakes herself out of her stupor. "I was somewhere else for a second."

"Listen. I know this is hard for you. I know you probably just want to be with Ryan right now. But stick with me and it'll be over a lot sooner than you think."

Instead of being reassuring, his words instantly make her feel guilty. Not of the crime the police are curious about, but the fact that she hasn't even thought of Ryan since she shot his brother in the back. "Have you seen him yet?"

"Ryan?" Looking regretful, Sandy shakes his head. "You were top priority tonight, kiddo. But Seth told me he's fine, they both are, so I'm not too worried."

"And ... Trey?" The name falls from her lips carefully, as if just saying it is enough to make him materialize in front of her. "Any word on how he's doing?"

Sandy shakes his head. "Sorry. I'm in the same boat you are."

Her eyes dart to the slightly ajar door and the police officer she can see in the crack. He's been stationed outside, she knows, to ensure that she doesn't leave the property just yet.

Sandy clears his throat when he realizes where her eyes, and her mind, have wondered. "Well, not quite the same, I suppose."

"No," she agrees, her gaze dropping down to her hands, clasping them tighter to try and stop their trembling. "Not quite."

XXX

Ryan is beginning to think that he will never have a normal life. He had thought moving to Newport was a new beginning, a chance to start fresh and shift to a different track. But here he is now, sitting alone in the hospital's courtyard, reassessing the situation. Maybe 'normal' is too much to ask. Complications seem to follow him wherever he goes; he has never had a more faithful companion.

And speaking of following ... "I'm not stupid," he calls out. It's strange to hear his own voice break the night's quiet, strange to be surrounded by so much silence when all he wants to do is scream. "I know you're back there."

Summer steps out of the shadows and at least has the grace to look sheepish. "I thought you might want to be alone."

"So you followed me?" he deadpans.

"Well. I thought that you probably thought you wanted to be alone. But I really thought that you might really want to talk to someone." She cocks her head. "Did that make any sense at all?"

He laughs, just a little bit, and it is more of a relief than the scream might have provided. "None whatsoever."

Taking that as permission to stay, she slides onto the bench next to him. "So, I'm not going to be some big cliché and ask how you're holding up. 'Cause I know, no matter how sensitively I put it, you're just going to shrug and say 'fine'."

"Okay," he replies, mystified as to where she's going with all this.

"But," Summer continues, "I am capable of chattering about nothing for insane amounts of time and I'm willing to put that talent to use until you decide you're in the mood for sharing. So what'll it be?"

Fulfilling her prophecy, he moves his shoulders as he insists, "I'm fine."

"Fine? Okay, then. We do this the hard way. I saw the greatest article today in Cosmo and it was all about the summer's -"

"I hate waiting." Ryan keeps his eyes on the stars as he cuts her off. He knows she means business and, anyway, the words have been boiling just under his skin for hours. "Okay? Good enough for you? I hate waiting, and I hate not knowing how he is, and I hate this whole situation."

Summer regards his profile seriously beneath the moonlight as she adds, "And you probably hate that you still want him to be okay, even after everything."

There is a pause. "Yeah. I guess I do." He looks broken, so utterly defeated that she wants to hug him, but if she knows one thing about Ryan, it's that he doesn't hug. "I mean, how messed up am I? He blows into town, attacks Marissa, tries to kill me ... and I still can't imagine life without him."

"We'll know soon," Summer comforts and, taking a chance, rests her fingertips lightly on his shoulder. "One way or the other."