A/N: Sorry for the delay! This chapter is called "Fall At Your Feet" which is a James Blunt song. Please review!

FALL AT YOUR FEET

Seth had never been to Summer's apartment. They saw each other infrequently and when they did, they met at coffee shops or the diner where Summer worked, per her request. He knew so much about her life and at the same time so little. He knew about Marcus, but not the specifics of what he did to her almost every day. He knew she struggled financially, but he didn't know that she was just-this-close to evacuation every month, that even things like groceries and laundry were sometimes hard to manage within her meager budget. Summer had made sure to keep their conversations to happier thoughts—funny things Audrey had said that day, Seth's work at the Newport Group, updates on how Seth's parents were or if either of them had heard from Ryan and Marissa, who were living in Chicago, as they rarely did.

But Kirsten still sent Christmukkah cards to Summer, and had her address. Clutching that address on a post-it as he drove, Seth watched for her street name and finally found it, turning into the small alley where the entrance to her building was. He was nervous about leaving his shiny BMW parked on the street, but knew there wouldn't be a parking garage anywhere nearby. He looked around. The neighborhood was not exactly ideal and it was far from the beautiful gated communities in which they had both lived in Newport, with their perfect ocean views, sprawling mansions, and manicured lawns. The street was cluttered with litter, the buildings were dilapidated and dirty, and graffiti covered the concrete surfaces that seemed all-consuming. Seth bit his lip and neared her building, an approaching man glaring at him openly. He rang the bell that corresponded to her apartment but received no response. He frowned. He had noticed her car in a parking spot, he knew her second job hadn't started yet, and that Audrey should already have been dropped off at her sitter's.

He was perplexed, but luckily the building door was unlocked and he pushed through into it. Expecting an elevator to transport him to Summer's sixth-floor apartment, he was greeted with a gray-painted staircase in the dimly lit foyer. He sighed and began his walk up stairs. Arriving at apartment 6C, hers, completely out of breath with tired legs, he noticed the doorbell was broken and knocked on the door. Again, no response. But she had to be home. She had to be. Seth reached down to the dingy floor mat and lifted it to find a key, and slowly turned it in the lock, a bundle of worry forming in his stomach. The door opened and Seth entered the apartment, gulping.

"Summer?" He called.

"M-Marcus?" A wobbly voice, full of fear and anxiety, called from another room.

"Sum? It's Seth."

"Cohen?" She asked pitifully.

Seth knew something was wrong. He glanced around at the cramped space, frowning at the conditions Summer and Audrey were living in. The walls were cracked, the ceilings were low, the furniture was falling apart, and Seth wanted to help in the worst way. That was the emotion he felt his entire being be consumed with: the desire to help the only girl he had ever really loved.

But he ignored his concern about the apartment for that moment and rushed towards the sound of her voice and knocked softly on the bathroom door. "Sum?"

"Cohen, I need help," she said, her voice ragged. He could hear her breathing heavily.

"Can I come in?" Seth asked gently, his voice not matching his heart, pounding with fear, and the rushing in his head.

"I wish you didn't have to," Summer explained from the other end, desperation echoing from her words. "But I don't know what to do."

Seth frowned. Something was very, very wrong. He inhaled slowly, trying to be reasonable about the situation, for her sake. "How about I come in, and we can deal with whatever the problem is and I'll be very calm and cool and collected?"

"Okay," she whispered, about to cry.

Seth slowly opened the thin bathroom door and his eyes widened when he saw the scene before him. Summer was slumped against the peeling whitish-gray paint of the bathroom. Her hair was wet and matted, her face pale and bruised and cut and paralyzed with fear, her body partially covered by an old damp green towel. Her eyes traveled up to meet his, and she flushed with embarrassment, shame, guilt.

"Holy shit." Seth formed the words slowly in his mouth, and they jolted Summer.

"Please Seth, just don't—"

"I want to beat the crap out of him," Seth said, setting his jaw firmly, his eyes alive with fury. She could see his fist clenching. He and Ryan were not blood brothers, but in some ways they were so similar—their everlasting need to protect and save the ones they loved. But that wasn't where Summer's mind was. Her mind could not ignore the throbbing that devoured her body, the fuzziness that occupied her brain, and the horrible feeling that encompassed her when she saw Seth's face, crossed with anger and sadness and a little bit of disappointment. That was what she hated the most. The disappointment.

"I want to too, sometimes," she laughed lightly, trying to break the severity of the mood. But it wasn't going to be broken, not with her crumpled and shivering and half-naked and beat-up on her bathroom floor and her ex-boyfriend staring down at her with all of these emotions that she could still read so clearly, even after so many years had passed.

"This is serious." As if she needed a reminder, she thought bitterly to herself.

"It doesn't have to be." As if it could be ignored, he told himself, outraged.

"Yes, it does," he replied forcefully. "How long, Summer?"

"How long what?" She retorted, though she knew exactly what he meant.

"How long has he been fucking doing this to you?" Seth shouted, anger flowing through him without control, at Marcus and this horrible world and even Summer, a little bit. That she hadn't told him. That she hadn't let him in. That she hadn't given him the chance to protect her.

He would have.

"A long time, Seth," she said, sighing, fingering the fraying edge of green terrycloth towel. "A really long time."

"You never said anything."

"I know."

"You could have." He reconsidered, biting his lip slightly. "You should have."

"Maybe," she said, sighing.

He knew he wasn't going to get anywhere on that topic for the time being. Not when she was in this state. "I should take you to the hospital."

"Oh, no." Summer shook her head fervently. "No way."

"Summer, look at you! How can you deny that something is wrong?" He said, raising his voice again, frustrated and concerned and goddamn furious.

Her eyes widened at the audacity of his words, and she shakily grabbed on to the hook on the side of the wall to help support herself as she stood, attempting to clutch her towel to her skinny frame as she did so. Her motion was full of pain, of fear, and Seth wished he hadn't sounded so crazed. It obviously wasn't helping, when she was struggling so much. But now she was angry too.

Summer had always been powerful, strong, and bold. She had been quick to jab or scold him when they were dating, and she had always gotten what she wanted. She was persuasive and fierce and he had always admired her for it. But this Summer was different. She was weak. She was small. She was tired. She was broken. Seth couldn't comprehend a Summer like that.

"I know something is wrong!" She said, screaming at him now. "Obviously, I know something is wrong! You think I didn't realize that?" She swallowed, trying not to let her anger overtake her. "You think that just because he hit me, I forgot that it was wrong?"

"I never meant that," Seth replied slowly.

"Well then what the hell did you mean?" She asked. She paused, and neither spoke. Then she smiled. "Remember when we were seniors, back at Harbor?"

"Of course. Best time of my life, not that I realized it then."

She thought for a moment, and then nodded, agreeing. "Mine too. And remember when you lied to me, told me you didn't love me, told me you didn't want to go to Brown anymore and that we should go our separate ways?"

"Biggest mistake of my life," Seth commented, cracking a smile.

"It was all because you wanted me to go to Brown," she reminded him. "You didn't want me to skip out on Brown to follow you wherever you were going to go, because you knew I would have." She smiled again, reminiscing. She transported herself back to a time when her concerns were her best friend Marissa's latest Ryan rebound and what she would wear to the next Newport charity event. But now her problems were far scarier. Far more real. "You did it because you were willing to do something that hurt yourself for the benefit of someone you loved."

"This is different," Seth insisted. "I wasn't being abused."

"I think it's the same thing," Summer replied, pieces of her old self shining through in her insistence and stubbornness. "I'm okay with this. It's for Audrey."

"So letting her grow up in a home where her dad won't acknowledge she's alive and her mom gets beat up for cash is okay?" Seth asked. He knew his words would sting. But she needed to understand. She needed to understand that this wasn't okay, that she needed help, that she couldn't do it all on her own.

"You can't expect to say that to me and then drag me to the hospital," she said simply. She sighed. "I have to go to work." She clutched the wall and attempted to walk, tripping. Seconds before her face would have smashed into the tile floor, Seth caught her and tilted her upright again. They were close, their faces inches apart.

"Do you need me to help you get some clothes?" Seth asked. Summer nodded silently. Both knew that she had caved, that Seth would be driving her to the hospital. They didn't even need to say anything, but their natural chemistry and the unbreakable connection between them filled in all the blanks. She couldn't walk. She couldn't fight. Not anymore, at least. They were so in tune that Seth knew when she had hit her breaking point, and Summer knew she could argue with him no longer.

"What should I get?" Seth yelled from the closet.

"Sweats," Summer called back tiredly. She didn't care what Seth saw her in now; he had seen her at her worst. She leaned back and let herself fall into a sitting position on the toilet seat, while attempting to cover her body with the towel. Her tailbone ached with the pressure of sitting down. She leaned over the counter for her trusty concealer and began trying to paint it over the bruises that marred her pale face, but she could hardly lift her arms.

Seth reentered, carrying some clothes. He saw her close to tears, struggling to keep from openly sobbing.

"Summer," he said softly, kneeling next to her and wrapping his arms around her. Both acknowledged the fact that Summer was completely naked under the towel, but they couldn't care about that. Summer was in pain; she was broken, and Seth wanted to put her back together. He took her arm and gently laid it down in her lap, took the concealer, and began dabbing it softly on the blue and purple regions of her face and neck.

"Thanks," she whispered, her eyes warm with tears and gratitude.

"Of course," he replied. Finally she looked at least better on the outside. "Here—clothes—"

"Perfect," she said. He set the pile on the counter.

"And you even found my favorite bra." Summer cracked a smile.

Seth had an awkward look on his face. "I didn't know—"

"No, Cohen," she said, washing away the worry on his face. She loved that he was so concerned about doing the right thing, not upsetting her. "Thank you."

She took the too-big and frayed bra—it was from high school, and she'd lost so much weight since then—and attempted to hold her towel up and attach the clasp of her bra at the same time.

"Do you want me to—go, or—" Seth hesitated nervously. "Help?"

Summer winced as she tried to move her arms. "Just don't freak out, okay?"

Seth knit his brow, confused, but realized what she meant when she let her grip on the towel go and it floated to floor, leaving her completely uncovered. Whereas typically his eyes would not have been able to be drawn away from her perfect breasts and the slender body he remembered so well, this was different—her entire frame was covered in reminders of Marcus. His fist and nails and teeth were painted all over her, illustrated in the scrapes and bruises and red streaks that spread across her once smooth and creamy and unspoiled skin.

Seth stood suddenly, anger inflaming his eyes once more. "Holy fuck, Sum." He kicked the radiator in the corner, and the noise of his shoe on metal rattled through the bathroom, echoing, rippling through the emotions that filled the room. "I want to fucking kill him, I swear—"

"I know," she said, her voice caught in her throat. "But you can't, Seth, you can't, I need you."

His attention was turned back to her, and he nodded before taking the worn bra in his hands and wrapping it around her, fixing the partially broken clasp in the back where it hung loosely.

"You're better at that than you were in high school," Summer commented, and she could hear him smirk from behind her.

"I would hope so," Seth quipped, and she laughed. He lived for that laugh.

He helped her into a loose t-shirt and then slid a pair of underwear up her pin-thin legs towards her narrow hips when he realized what was going on.

"Summer. You're bleeding." He looked up from his crouched position into her eyes, trying to read her expression.

"I know," she said, sighing tiredly. "I always do."

Seth closed his eyes, wishing all her pain away, but knowing it would still be there moments later. "You need to get to the ER right now." Without letting her speak or protest, he lifted her into his arms, slipping her into the baggy sweatpants in the same motion. They were ripped and the elastic was stretched out, but at least they covered her.

He rushed through the apartment and out to his car. "Front or back?" He asked.

"Cohen I don't know—if I can sit down," she admitted softly, and he understood, placing her gently across the black leather backseat of his BMW.

He ran around to the driver's side and sped toward the hospital, trying to drive smoothly so that the car wouldn't jostle fragile Summer in the back. She occasionally winced, and stifled sobs, and Seth himself winced every time she did. He hated this. Hated that she had no control and wasn't angry, hated that she felt she had to do this. She didn't have to do this. She had to understand that.

He would do everything in his power to make sure she did.