-1The Damage Done

The clock on the wall is weirdly loud. It counts off each passing second with an ominous tick, like a modern-day Chinese water torture. Seth can tell it's taking its toll on Julie, because every time she glances at it, her frown deepens and her pacing quickens.

It's probably some kind of irony that he's sitting with his grandfather's widow, waiting for the 'live or die' verdict on his brother's brother, but he doesn't want to dwell on that.

He wishes there was something he could do besides sit around and twiddle his thumbs. That's another kind of irony, because he's pretty sure he's spent half his life sitting around and twiddling his thumbs and it's never bothered him before. Damn Ryan for spoiling him with weekly dramatic adventures.

Still, all sarcasm aside, Seth feels a little useless. His father is negotiating with the cops to get Marissa out of any trouble she may be in and his girlfriend is keeping a watchful eye on Ryan's brooding, both Very Important Jobs. Meanwhile, he can't even look at Julie without choking on the fact that she's his ex-grandmother, much less offer her any kind of comfort.

"What are you staring at?" she snaps, just as he's about to make his thousandth attempt at breaking the ice. "Shouldn't you be with that juvenile delinquent you call a friend?"

"You mean your daughter?" he tosses back innocently. It's times like this he's grateful for all those years of being bullied. He's learned a thing or two about hitting below the belt. And yes, he realizes it's unfair to pick on an older, richer women, he also can't condone Julie talking about Ryan so cruelly.

Julie bares her fangs. "Clever. You must've gotten that from your mother, because God knows bringing home poor white trash wasn't your father's shining moment."

He contemplates comparing it to Jimmy's choice so many years ago, but decides that's too low a blow. Even if it is directed towards the she-devil herself. Instead, Seth decides to give sensitivity a try.

"Look, Mrs. Cooper, I get that you're upset right now. But my dad's working pretty hard to make sure Marissa is fine, so if you wanna get some aggression out, could you at least pick a new target? I can take a few punches, if that's what you need. I mean, I know, I don't look that that tough, but beneath this plaid sweater hide abs of steel and -"

"Please stop." She lifts her hands to her head. It hasn't ached like this since the first time she tasted vodka, all but fifteen and in over her head at a frat party. She doesn't think she'll ever look at her daughter again without thinking of the violent way her temples are throbbing. "Stop talking. And stop trying to be nice. It's not helping me."

"Sure, sure thing."

He busies himself with tying and untying his shoelaces, trying to remember the childhood chant that quickened the learning process. Something about a bunny and a burrow. Or not. Did bunnies borrow? He considers, but decides against, asking Julie if she knows.

Thirty seconds later, the game has lost all appeal and he couldn't care less about whether bunnies burrow, hibernate, or take swimming lessons in January. "You know," he says, ready to brave all the insults she can hurl if only to break the damn silence, "I really think Trey's gonna pull through this. I mean, if you think I'm tough, whew. We're probably just getting all worked up for nothing. In fact -"

Julie throws a hand up to ward him off. "What did I say about trying to be nice?"

"Right. Yeah. Sorry."

A minute passes. Julie releases a long sigh and admits grudgingly, "I appreciate it, though. Thank you."

Seth flashes her a grin and straightens up. "No sweat. Hey, you wouldn't happen to know anything about bunnies, would you?"

XXX

A half hour passes before the cool night air begins to set in. Struggling not to shiver, Summer keeps her suggestion casual. "We should get you cleaned up, you know."

"It's a hospital, I blend right in," Ryan says automatically, as if he's been waiting for her to start this argument.

She scoffs. "Well, you're gonna have to rejoin the real world eventually, and not everyone there walks around with one eye swollen shut and blood dripping from their forehead."

The look he fixes her with is skeptical. "You call Newport the real world?"

"It may not be real, but ..." She shrugs. "It's home."

"That should go on the sign at the city limits."

"Yeah ... right under 'if you lived here, you'd be driving a nicer car'."

He chuckles. "It'd definitely let the tourists know what they were in for."

"They'd still flock to us. Newport looks great on brochures." Summer grew quiet for a minute. "If you'd known ... what you were in for, I mean ... would you still have come?"

"Probably." It is his turn to shrug. "I would've thought it had to be better than Chino."

"Do you still think that?"

"It ... has its days," he hedges. "It's definitely never boring. I don't know. I guess ... yeah, I do. 'Cause even on my worst days here, I've got you guys."

"To clean up the messes you make on our behalf," she smiles and stands, tugging at his hand. "Come on. No complaints. Up, up, up."

Ryan groans, but allows himself to be pulled to his feet. "It's really not a big deal, Summer. Trust me, I've had worse."

"Don't I know it," she retorts. "Ryan Atwood, the hero. I don't think there's been a day since you got here that you haven't gotten into some kind of fistfight."

He considers that statement as she leads the way to the nurse's station. The woman on duty is barely older than them and looks both horrified and interested when she glances up and takes in Ryan's disheveled appearance. "Let me guess ... I should see the other guy?"

"Something like that," Ryan says uncomfortably. The comment makes him all too aware of where they are and why and the guilt follows quickly. How could he have been outside talking so casually with Summer when his brother was lying in surgery?

"Could we borrow a first-aid kit?" Summer asks, drumming her nails impatiently on the desk. She knew female interest when she saw it, and she was appalled that this woman could be showing towards such a beaten up boy. "I'd like to get my boyfriend here cleaned up."

Ryan shot her a confused look, but wisely kept his mouth shut until Summer had collected the kit and ushered him into a handicap bathroom. "Uh, Summer, did you get hit in the head tonight, too?"

"Oh, aren't we clever," she sneers good-naturedly, nudging him towards the covered toilet seat. "Sit down. She was eyeing you like Seth eyes his comic book collection."

He ignores the comparison, focusing on the travel-sized bottle of rubbing alcohol she's shaking. "Is this gonna hurt?"

"Ryan." She advances on him with a cotton ball doused in the stuff. "You can't expect me to believe you're scared of a little rubbing alcohol. I've seen you take more punches than freakin' Muhammad Ali."

He winces anyway as she applies the liquid to the worst of his cuts. "Summer ... do you think he's going to be okay? Honestly."

"Honestly?" Finishing up, she caps the bottle and looks him in the eye. "If he's anything like you, he'll be back on his feet in no time. But why don't we go back up to the waiting room, see if there's been any news?"

They arrive upstairs at the same time Sandy is leading Marissa towards her mother, two uniformed cops trailing closely behind them. Simultaneously, a doctor knocks briskly on the door to announce his arrival and heads straight towards Ryan.

"He doesn't look happy," Seth murmurs and, for once, nobody shushes him.

"Ryan Atwood?" Ryan nods, a muscle in his jaw twitching with tension. "I'm sorry to inform you that your brother didn't make it. His injuries were ..."

Ryan stops listening, but only because another voice rises in the background, overlapping the doctors. The older officer looks truly contrite as he interrupts the procedure and draws Marissa away from the group by her elbow. He tries to be as quiet as possible, but knows everyone is listening as he makes his own announcement.

"Marissa Cooper, you're under arrest for the murder of Trey Atwood. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law."