Title : The Sad, Sad Tale of Two White-Knights

Author : Helen C.

Rating : PG

Summary : Title says it all…

Disclaimer : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Many, many thanks to joey51, who beta'd this.

Part Three

It took Ryan the better part of a week to notice that there was a problem with Seth.

One week of teasing, one week of seeing Seth smile and even laugh with the rest of them.

One week of Seth making fun of himself without even once asking to be acknowledged for what he had done—and he had, after all, pushed Summer down to safety.

One week of wondering why he had the nagging feeling that something was not right in Seth land.

When the light dawned, he could have kicked himself.

He didn't use to be so slow before, so he was putting it on the painkillers.

It was their fault if he hadn't noticed that Seth wasn't really enjoying their jokes. How the hell had he missed the hurt look that flashed in Seth's eyes every time they joked about the state of his ass? How had he missed the fact that Seth seemed increasingly worried as days went by?

And damn, but how could he have thought for a moment that Seth was actually, seriously having fun?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Once things became clear, Ryan told Summer, "He's not laughing with us anymore. I'm not sure he ever was, but now? Definitely not laughing."

"He took a bullet in the ass," Summer pointed out.

Ryan heaved an exasperated sigh.

It wasn't that Summer was stupid; he knew she had been scared, he knew she was trying to make things better, but it was still his duty, as best friend, to retort, "Yeah, he took a bullet, Summer. Pushing you down. And he's…"

He's embarrassed.

He doesn't say so, but can't you tell what it means, that he doesn't complain about his battle wounds?

He's more than embarrassed enough already.

Come on, if I can see it, surely you can too?

She looked down, looking almost ashamed. "I didn't mean to—" she started.

"I know." He offered her a tired smile. "I didn't either. Hey, even he laughed."

She nodded, sighing. "I know. So, what do we do now?"

And so Operation Cheer Seth Up, Phase II started.

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"This is unfair," Seth said.

He had been growing increasingly grumpy in the last few days—partly, Ryan guessed, because he was tired of hurting, tired of not being able to sit, and sick of all the bad puns about how the situation "sucked ass."

"I mean, you got injured and even your injury was, well, serious. Me, I get hit, you know… and everyone finds it funny."

"I know," Ryan said. Seth was right. It wasn't fair.

And if he had to be shot, Ryan was glad it was in the arm and not in the ass.

Sure, having an arm out of commission sucked. It made everything more difficult—eating, showering, getting dressed. But on the other hand, it was so much more…

So much less…

Well, it was so much better than what Seth had to suffer through.

Ryan knew that from personal, painful experience.

He had never talked about it, had even avoided thinking about it, because yeah, embarrassing was a weak word for it.

But Seth had been miserable for days, so in the spirit of fairness and friendship, Ryan found himself offering, "You know, Turo was drunk once, and he mistook me for a thief when I sneaked out of their house. He got me with a knife. Shallow cut." He felt himself blush at the mere thought of it, gestured vaguely to his lap. "Hm, there…"

Seth gulped and stared at him, wide eyed, his face almost comical in his surprise. "He cut your—"

"No!" Ryan yelped. He bit his lip. "He got me just above, hm…"

He trailed off, grimacing.

He could still remember the compassionate glances from the doctor who had stitched up the cut, while Ryan was using all his willpower not to squirm away. The doctor and the nurse (the young, pretty, female nurse, damn it all to fucking hell) had tried to preserve his modesty, but there hadn't been much to do.

Trey, fuck him and his sick sense of humor, had used the whole incident against him for years.

Ryan had had to wear sweat pants for over a week, unable to stand a jean rubbing on the stitches.

The nurse had had to shave him to get a better look at the injury, for Christ's sake. It had itched like crazy when it had grown back, and he was never going to tell that part to Seth—there were things a guy just didn't share, not even out of friendship.

"It was fucking awful," Seth groaned. "I had the feeling they were all snickering behind my back. Literally behind my back, if you see what I mean."

Ryan saw, and could only cringe in sympathy.

That must have sucked at least as much as his own experience.

"And the worst of it…" Seth trailed off and Ryan raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"There's worse?"

"They're going to eat me alive at school." Seth turned to look at him and Ryan was startled to see that he was truly scared. "I was never going to win any popularity contest, but this… They're going to have a field day, Ryan."

"No, they're not." He should have guessed that that was what was bothering Seth. Hell, Ryan had prayed long and hard for no one to learn just where Arturo had hurt him, and all his prayers had been in vain, and there had been a few fistfights before the snickering stopped.

Things hadn't been so bad in Chino, because he was an Atwood and everyone knew you didn't mess with an Atwood—not unless you wanted to get on the wrong side of the other Atwood, Turo, Eddie, and Theresa as well.

Seth was right.

The Newport jocks were never going to let this go.

But maybe there was something Ryan could do to help Seth avoid this particular embarrassment.

Seth had rarely looked so low-spirited. "Right. 'Course it will."

"Seriously, I wouldn't let it come to that," Ryan said. Sure, he had promised the Cohens he wouldn't fight anymore, and that was a promise he intended to keep, but fighting might not be necessary. Ryan was still pretty good at intimidating people, and he wasn't on probation anymore. Everyone at school knew he could back up any threats—strangely, even though he had paid dearly for punching Dean Hess, it had also shown the Newport kids how far he was willing to go to protect his friends. No one had bothered him since he had been re-admitted to Harbor.

Seth shrugged. "I know. But Ryan, when I said that united, we were unstoppable?"

Ryan nodded, resisting the urge to point out that they hadn't been divided when they had gotten shot. Seth knew that already.

"I wasn't thinking about such extreme circumstances."

"I know." Well aware that he was grasping at straws, Ryan went on, "But seriously, Seth. I've got your back. And so does Summer—and everyone knows not to get her angry. Rage blackouts."

Seth actually gave a little smile at that.

"And honestly, in a fight between Taylor and the Newport jocks? My money's on Taylor."

Seth's smile broadened.

Oh yeah.

Taylor was a force to be reckoned with.

"And, well, Marissa can slap the hell out of anyone, too."

Seth snorted but Ryan wasn't laughing. She might be a little princess, but she sure packed a punch—Luke could have attested to that fact, had he still been around.

"We've got you covered," Ryan promised.

Seth looked almost convinced.

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It took some planning, some well-times threats, some threatening glares, but by the time Seth was cleared to go back to school, Taylor and Summer had put the fear of God into everyone.

Ryan didn't doubt for a second that there were bad jokes being told when Seth wasn't around to hear them. It didn't matter. No one so much as smiled in his direction, and that was really all Ryan could have hoped for.

The Core Four (Plus One) stuck together.

The boys took bullets for the girls, the girls went to bat for the boys.

And everyone in Harbor knew better than pronounce a certain three-letter word within hearing range of the five of them.

end