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The Aftermath

Summer hasn't seen Marissa in three days. It's the longest span of time she's ever gone in her life without seeing her best friend, but the second Marissa had been released on bail, Julie had turned their house into Fort Knox. Sandy is the only one granted entry, and he's not allowed to discuss the case further than assuring Summer that everything is going to be 'fine.'

Summer has never been particularly fond of the word 'fine' as a descriptive phrase, but the past few days have led her to develop a hatred so deep for it that it rivals the loathing she holds for bad fake tans, alligator purses, and old men who wear Speedos. No matter who she talks to, everyone's 'fine'. Marissa's fine, Seth's fine, Ryan's fine.

Which is why, on the morning of the funeral, she decides to take matters into her own hands. Arriving at the Cohen residence, she skirts the main house and heads straight for Ryan's humble abode. She's pretty sure she'll find everyone's favorite brooder holed up there, refusing to speak to anyone.

"Hey, Chino, open up," she calls, banging on the door and pressing her nose to the glass. The shades are drawn, but she's almost positive she can see the shadow of a figure moving restlessly around the interior. "I can see you, dumbass."

He's sighing as he reluctantly cracks the door open. "Can I help you with something, Summer?"

"You sure can," she says cheerfully, pushing her way past him to enter. For someone so small, she's a force to be reckoned with. "You can help me figure out why no one - not even the family two feet away - has heard anything from you in the past three days."

"I talked to Sandy twice about the case," Ryan protests. Resigned to her presence, he shuffles to his neatly made bed and collapses onto it.

"Of course you did, it was your legal obligation." Summer rolls her eyes at his still form and takes the opportunity to peer at his face. His wounds are healing nicely, she notes. The visible ones, anyway. "But a little bird told me you've refused to say a word about Trey."

"A little bird, huh? Is this little bird the owner of a plastic horse and a sizable comic collection?" Summer doesn't answer, just crosses her arms and tries to look mean. "Look, Summer, there's nothing to say, okay?"

"You are such a guy," she gripes. "How could there possibly be nothing to say? Your brother was just killed by your girlfriend after trying to kill you. If you're really feeling nothing, I think you need to become my step-monster's advisor 'cause she's on a steady diet of whiskey and Prozac and she still gets those pesky emotions from time to time."

There's a pause. "I think it's ... ex-girlfriend," he finally offers, casting his eyes away so he misses the way her jaw nearly hits the ground.

"I - I'm sorry?" Summer finds herself chuckling at the ridiculousness of that statement. There's no way Marissa and Ryan have found time in the past couple days to have one of their long-winded, dramatic breakups, no way either of them has been in the right state of mind. "That's impossible."

"She won't take my calls," Ryan explains, looking - if at all possible - even more miserable. "Julie ... refuses to let me see her."

Summer takes this as an invitation to sit down, positioning herself primly next to his sprawled out body. "You tried to see her?"

"I thought it would be the right thing to do."

"I see." It's not the most romantic thing she's ever heard, but she lets it go because he's under emotional distress. "It's gonna be hard for a while, Ryan. I mean, it was pretty traumatic. For all of us."

He sits up, shakes his head vigorously to clear it. "I know. I'm sorry. Guess I've been kinda selfish, huh? I haven't even asked how you're holding up."

"Are you kidding me? Listen, Chino, I'll deny I ever said this, but you're probably the least selfless, kindest person I've ever met." She bumps his shoulder gently with her own. "Trust me, I'm doing just fine. And it's perfectly normal that you're not. It just takes time."

His mouth opens, but a knock sounds on the door and Seth pokes his head in before Ryan can say anything. "Hey, man, listen, it's getting kinda late and ... Summer. I didn't know you were here. What - what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to ride with you to the service," she answers, crossing the room to him so he can sling one arm casually around her shoulder. "I just thought I'd stop in and check on Ryan, make sure he was running on schedule."

"Aw, my little woman's such a mother hen," Seth clucks, pulling her close. She shifts a little bit, uncomfortable with showing such affection in front of their grieving friend. "We should get going."

Ryan stands slowly, looking like it hurts. Summer winces in sympathy pain, imagining the bruises that must be fading on his back from his struggle with Trey. "Yeah. You know, you guys don't have to come, it's ..."

"Ryan." Summer stops him with a word, a look. "We wouldn't be anywhere else."

XXX

It's stupid, but Ryan finds himself scanning the small crowd for his mother's face. There's no way she could have heard about the loss of her oldest son, but he thinks it should be something a mother just feels.

He spots Theresa, hand in hand with Eddie, and nods. There are a few more people gathered around them, Trey's old crowd. He recognizes some, despite the fact that it's the first time he's ever seen them serious. Trey and his friends were always laughing maniacally, slapping five over stupid jokes, flashing grins that belied a new plan.

Sandy stands next to the priest, taking on the role of father for yet another Atwood brother. He looks older than Ryan's ever seen him look. Lines have appeared on his face, around his eyes from squinting with worry, around his mouth from frowning. Kirsten is in rehab and Sandy should not have to deal with this mess.

Sometimes Ryan is sorry they ever met.

Seth and Summer make sure to stay close but out of the way, lingering a few behind him and stepping closer every time he shifts. He can feel their presence at his back, Summer's watchful gaze and Seth's baited breath. It's comforting, but a little suffocating at the same time, as if they're both just waiting for him to make a wrong move.

The priest asks if anyone would like to say a few words about the departed - that's how he puts it, the departed. As if Trey has boarded an airplane and is headed for a Hawaiian vacation. All eyes immediately go to Ryan.

"Uh. I guess, uh, first of all, thanks to everyone for coming out. I - I know Troy would, uh, appreciate it." Ryan stops, reviews the sentiment. Then he shakes his head. "Sorry. That's a lie, I think. I don't know what Troy would appreciate.

"Truth is," he continues, "I grew up with him, and I could never figure out what it was that could possibly make him happy. I guess he was like our dad in that respect. Never satisfied."

He raises his head to gauge the crowd's reaction. Sandy's cool blue gaze is understanding as he nods silently, encouragingly. Seth's forehead wrinkles as he tries to process the huge weight of the words. Summer's eyes, the deep brown of them, are bottomless in their sorrow.

"So I tried my hardest to keep him around. I'd already failed with my dad. I knew that I couldn't let that happen again. I did everything Trey asked of me - stole things, sold things, whatever. And it was never enough. He always needed one more favor."

"Amen to that," one of his friends murmurs, and their whole clique, minus Theresa, titters.

It's inappropriate, but so true that Ryan cannot hold in his own chuckle. "I was helping him out for the thousandth time when we got caught. I was lucky enough to get off easily - the Cohens took me in. Trey wasn't so lucky. He had all these plans and he - they just never worked out.

"He had plans," Ryan repeats. His voice breaks a little and he feels Summer and Seth inch forward. "I think he could've done great things. Once he'd straightened out and all, I think ... I just wish he'd gotten the chance. I wish he'd given himself the chance."

Ryan steps back, away from the grave, away from the last shred of his former life. Seth and Summer are so close they don't even have to move, they just extend their arms and draw him into their circle again. He closes his eyes, soaks up the feel of being surrounded by family, and begins to breathe again.