Author's Note: Ok, I worked really hard on this chapter. I've been dreading having to write from Seth's point of view because he such a hard character to write. He's quirky on so many levels that it gets hard to translate that into writing. I hope I did a decent job. Please REVIEW and let me know!

Seth Cohen had come to terms with being invisible a long time ago. Before Ryan, Seth could not think of a single person who really paid much attention to him. Summer had ignored him for the better part of thirteen years. His mother was constantly at work and if she wasn't at the office she brought her work home with her. Sandy, so attentive to his underprivileged clients, barely recognized his only son's unhappiness. He'd sought solace in his video games, in his books and movies. He would watch the characters live out their lives and dream of having adventures that would win him the love of the world. Or, at the very least, a girlfriend. The Girlfriend. Summer.

There was only one group of people that never seemed to forget he existed. It didn't matter how hard he tried to remain under their radar. It didn't matter that he avoided parts of the school they would frequent and never went to the hundreds of Newpie parties that seemed to take place every year. They always found him. Luke and his pack of hairless wonders had bullied him, dogged him, harassed him, swirlied him, and generally made his life miserable since his first day of pre-school and had only become worse with puberty. It had been Luke who had coined the nickname Death Breath Seth in the fourth grade.

Seth had slowly been working up the courage to say hello to Summer Roberts, the prettiest girl in class next to Marissa Cooper, every recess since school had started. And, finally, after months of studious preparation and numerous hours at the library reading self-help books for romance, Seth felt prepared to introduce himself. He'd squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and thought of every corny pickup line he'd learned from watching late night television. This was his moment. This was his time to shine. Summer would play Gwen Stacy to his Peter Parker and the two of them would have a romance worthy of the friendly neighborhood Spiderman. Only, he amended, Summer wouldn't die in the end.

Even now, years later, he could remember every intimate detail of that moment. He remembered walking up to her, his mouth dry and his stomach threatening to turn itself inside out. He remembered the way she was standing, arms on her hips, laughing at something Marissa had said. He remembered the moment she'd finally seen him standing there like a love-sick puppy, the way he'd waved at her like an idiot, and the way she'd smiled. He remembered how his heart leapt at the flash of pearly white teeth she'd given him. But, most of all, he remembered the first time he'd been truly, irrevocably crushed.

"You're Seth Cohen, right?" she had asked him, smacking on her Bazooka bubblegum. "You live next to Marissa?"

He'd been trying to think of a clever way to answer her questions when he felt something hard and round slam into the back of his skull. He stumbled forward, even as he turned to face his attacker, already knowing the identity of his nemesis, already planning a heroic escape so he could live to fight another day. Luke and his crew, tanned and dazzling, stood grinning like loons behind him. The basketball he'd beaned Seth with bounced gently down the concrete until it slowly came to rest against the curb.

"Whoops," he laughed, leering. "Sorry, freak. Didn't see you standing there." He looked behind him to make sure he had the support of his crones. He must have been encouraged by what he saw there because he said, "What are you doing, Cohen? You don't actually think you have a chance with these girls, do you?"

"Luke," Seth whispered, cheeks flushing. "I was just leaving."

"He doesn't have to leave," Summer said with a swish of her hair. "You don't have to leave, Cohen."

Seth stared at her open-mouthed, blown away by her sudden acceptance. She flashed him a small smile and Seth gulped. His stomach was doing that weird flip-flop he'd come to associate with her, but this time it made him feel sick instead of giddy. Maybe he should have chosen the Mac' N' Cheese instead of the chili dogs for lunch.

"Are you kidding me?" Luke growled. "He's a freak, Summer."

"He doesn't look like a freak to me," Summer replied, unconcerned with the turn of events. She took his hand and Seth's stomach lurched.

Before he knew what was happening, before he could stop it, he'd thrown up the remains of his chili cheese dogs all over the concrete. Summer screeched and jumped back from him, ripping her hand from his like she'd suddenly discovered he had lice. He could hear Luke and his friends howling with laughter and Seth felt heat rush up his cheeks.

"Gross," Summer shrieked. "You almost barfed on me!"

"Oh no," Seth groaned as his humiliation churned his stomach. "Not agai—"

Whatever he was going to say was lost in another powerful heave of his stomach muscles and he wanted to sink into the concrete and die. This could only happen to him, happen to Seth Cohen…the freak. He could hear Luke laughing, hear somebody calling for the Recess Monitor, hear the girls as they coughed and gagged somewhere to his right. The first tears of humiliation pricked at his eyes, but he blinked them away. Things were bad enough. If he cried like a little baby in front of her? He'd never be able to look at her again.

He stood up and wiped a shaky hand across his mouth. He could feel the harsh, acidic remnants of his lunch in his mouth and he spat. His throat burned and his stomach ached. Seth watched with flushed cheeks as the Recess Monitor, Mrs. Lewinsky, rushed over to him. He wished Thor would come and smite him with a lightning bolt, maybe hit him around the head a few times with his hammer so he could forget the events of the day.

"Seth," Mrs. Lewinsky whispered. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," he groaned. "I don't know what happened. I just—"

"Do you smell that?" Luke suddenly crowed. "Ugghh, what stinks?"

Seth looked up sharply and met Luke's eyes. His nemesis stared calmly back at him, a sadistic smile creeping up his lips. Luke took a few steps towards him and sniffed as if trying to decipher the location of a specific scent. His face wrinkled in disgust and he pinched his nose dramatically.

"Uggghh," he shouted, loud enough for the entire playground to hear him. "It's the freak. It's Cohen."

"Luke," Mrs. Lewinski snapped. "That wasn't very nice. Apologize this instant, young man."

"No," Seth began. "Please, its okay. I don't want him to—"

"I'm sorry," Luke smirked. "I'm sorry that his breath smells like something crawled in his throat and died. It's not my fault he's got death breath, Mrs. Lewinsky. I think we should call him Death Breath Seth from now on just to warn people not to get too close. They might die from the smell."

Mrs. Lewinsky had hauled Luke to the principal's office, but the damage had been done. He would be known as Death Breath Seth throughout the rest of elementary school and on into junior high. Summer had never stood up for him again, never even spoke to him, and he slowly faded from her memory until he doubted she'd even remember that fateful day in fourth grade. The day Seth Cohen gave up. The day he'd officially become invisible. It was better than being humiliated. Being lonely was better than being hated.

So he'd passed through life like a ghost. The Casper of Newport. The spook of Harbor High. His parents tried to get him involved, tried to get him into clubs and sports. They couldn't understand why he'd always refused, why he was happier lying on his bed in his room listening to punk and reading comic books. They couldn't understand why he chose video game characters over real people, why he chose to live through books and movies. But, then again, they'd never asked him why. Perhaps he was that good at hiding it or perhaps they didn't want to know. A problem unseen was really no problem at all.

As the years began to fly by, Seth became convinced that the only way for him to have a chance at happiness was to get the hell out of Newport. Get the hell out of California, all together. He'd sail to some exotic island and live out his days alone but content. He'd move to the East Coast, the land his father had tried so hard to escape, and live somewhere sophisticated like New York or Boston. He'd buy a plane to somewhere in Europe and travel across its history filled lands, hitchhiking when needed and sleeping in hostels. There were so many possibilities. So many adventures that he could have. Hell, he was even open to working on a dairy farm in Wisconsin if it got him out of California.

He'd begun leaving brochures to boarding schools out east on his father's desk or in his mother's purse. He wasn't usually known for subtlety, but he figured he should ease his parents into the idea of him moving away from them. He waited, patiently…or what he considered patiently, for weeks for his mom and dad to bring up the subject. They would sit down for one of Kirsten's spontaneous and rarely planned family dinners and he would look at them both expectantly, but the subject never came up. School ended and Seth was expected to return back to Harbor with the same close-minded bikini clad babes and trust fund punks as the year before. And then, perhaps two months before Ryan came, his mother had finally breached the topic Seth had been waiting for.

He'd been playing Grand Theft Auto and had just stolen a cop car right from underneath the officer's nose. He planned on driving it to his house and showing it to his hooker girlfriend. Perhaps he would have a shootout with the police on the way. He heard his mother come through the front door, but he didn't say anything in greeting. She was usually too preoccupied to answer him, anyways.

Seth continued to play as Kirsten made her way into the kitchen, her purse hitting the counter with the soft swish of designer leather. She was rummaging through it, probably looking for the cellphone that was never far from her ear, when Seth heard her sigh in frustration.

"Seth," Kirsten called. "Come in here, please."

"One second," Seth shouted back to her. "I'm just reaching a new record on my pedestrian kill score." He ran over another innocent bystander in his stolen cop car and cackled.

"Seth," Kirsten growled at him, striding over to where her son was sitting. "Now."

"Mom," Seth sighed. "You're in the way. I can't see where I'm going. If I crash this thing I'll have nothing to bring back to my hooker girlfriend."

"What?" Kirsten frowned, turning to stare at the television. "Seth Cohen, what kind of game are you playing that allows you to have a hooker girlfriend?"

"All the kids are playing it," Seth said, eyes glued on the screen. "I'm just trying to connect with my youth, Mom." He frowned when the cop car jumped the curb and hit a fire hydrant, denting in the front bumper and sending water cascading into the digital air. "Go away. I'm trying to be a thug and you're cramping my style."

Kirsten raised her brows at her son, then turned and promptly unplugged the television and the Playstation from the wall. The T.V. turned off with a slight pop and hiss of static electricity and inky blackness covered the screen.

"Mom," Seth yelled, staring at her incredulously. "You could have at least waited until I'd saved."

"Saved who, Seth? You're hooker girlfriend?"

"Mom, don't say hooker. Its weird. And no. If Cherry dies I'll just find a new hooker. Every woman in this game is either a pedestrian or a hooker. It's like finding pennies on the sidewalk, you know? You keep walking and you're bound to find one sooner or later. Sometimes you find a whole group of them and you've got enough pennies to last you a lifetime. Only, instead of bringing you good luck they'll sleep with you for mon—"

"No mother wants to hear her son say hooker that many times…ever," Kirsten interrupted, holding up a hand. "Seth, we need to talk."

"About hookers? Because that is a conversation I would prefer to have with Dad."

"This has nothing to do with hookers, Seth. But, it has everything to do with the little pamphlets you keep leaving in my purse."

Seth perked up instantly. This conversation was long overdo and even though he'd been subjected to the emotional trauma of hearing his mother say hooker, he would take it in whatever form it came in.

"They're boarding schools, "Seth told her.

"I gathered that," Kirsten said dryly. "Why are you putting them in my purse?"

"Because I want to go."

"To boarding school?"

"Yes."

"What about Harbor, Seth? What about your friends?"

"What friends?" Seth sighed.

"Seth," Kirsten scowled. "You have friends."

"Really, Mom? Are my friends invisible? Because I can't seem to find them anywhere."

"You go out," Kirsten told him. "I see you go out. If you don't have friends, then where do you go?"

"Sailing," Seth told her quietly. "Skateboarding. Down to the pier to play at the arcade. Sort of one man activities."

"What about those parties you are always going to?" Kirsten asked, refusing to believe she'd missed something this big in her son's life.

"You mean the parties you make me go to?" Seth snapped. "The parties where I always end up thrown in the pool or locked in the closet? Are those the parties you're talking about, Mom?"

"Seth," Kirsten began.

"Mom," Seth pleaded. "Please, let me go. I have never wanted anything more than this in my whole life. I'm not happy here. I've never been happy here."

"Seth, this is just part of growing up. Kids can be cruel. When I was a kid I—"

"You don't get it," Seth said, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have expected you to."

"What is that supposed to mean, Seth?"

"Mom, where the hell have you been?" Seth yelled, standing up angrily. "Are you this blind to what goes on around you? You've never looked up from your work long enough to realize that I'm unhappy, to realize how I'm treated here."

"Seth, that's not true!"

"Really?" Seth asked bitterly. "You think my Bar Mitzvah was the first time nobody showed up for one of my parties, Mom? You think it was the last time? Have you ever seen me with kids my own age? Let's face it. You were too busy to notice and Dad is too involved in his crusade to save the needy that he doesn't even realize his own son is floundering. This whole family is floundering."

"Seth," Kirsten began.

"You think a family dinner every once in a while is going to fix the gap here, but it won't. I don't know if anything will. The only thing I know is that if nobody here is going to look out for me then I've got to start looking out for myself. I've got to get out of here before I become completely invisible…even to myself. I need you to let me do this, Mom. Please, I promise that I'll never ask you for anything ever again. You'll be able to concentrate on work instead of having to deal with me and—"

"Is that what you think I want?" Kirsten asked harshly.

"Mom," Seth said, almost gently. "They don't call you the Ice Queen around here for nothing."

His mother had stared at him with an expression on her face that he'd never seen before. There was hurt there. Anger. And shame. Seth couldn't look at her like that. He shrugged his shoulders listlessly.

"Think about it," he told her softly. "But, I can't stay here another school year, Mom. I won't stay here."

His mother had not brought up boarding school with him again and Seth had taken all the pamphlets and thrown them away. He'd made his argument. All that was left for him to do was wait for the decision. Would he leave with his parent's blessings or leave without them? He sometimes heard his parents arguing about his future late at night, but he couldn't ever get a read on which direction they were heading towards. Either way, come the first day of school, he was gone. He counted the days until his escape on his wall calendar with the names of the places he imagined he would go.

Except he'd never gotten the chance to run. Never gotten the chance to flee the nest because Kid Chino had arrived in Newport. His father had finally pulled a Kirsten and brought his work home with him. Seth had been warned about Ryan's presence in the pool house and while he was instantly intrigued he was also wary of getting himself in some kind of altercation with a kid who could probably wipe the floor with him in two seconds flat. So he hid in the house and tried to get Sandy to spill the beans on their new houseguest becoming more and more frustrated every time his father said the words 'client-attorney privilege'.

The first night Ryan had spent with them Seth had lain awake for hours, staring up at the ceiling, and imagining all sorts of life scenarios for the new kid on the block. He knew he'd stolen a car with his brother, knew his mother had kicked him out, knew Sandy had gotten him out of jail, but that was it. With an imagination like Seth's such trivial information worked wonders and by the time he woke up the next morning he was convinced that Ryan was a giant, bald thug with forearms the size of boulders and a snake tattoo wrapped around his biceps with a tongue that moved when he flexed.

He certainly hadn't expected the young man that had come through the patio door, blinking blearily at him from the bright California sun. Somehow Ryan managed to be even more intimidating in the flesh than Seth had imagined him to be, but at the same time there was vulnerability in him that Cohen hadn't expected. The kid was shorter than Seth had pictured, but his lack of height only made the way he filled out his wife beater more noticeable. Seth had to fight the urge to gulp dramatically at the muscles he could clearly see bunched beneath Ryan's skin. There was no beefiness there, but there was strength and a certain undertone of danger to the way he held himself that let Seth know he wasn't someone he wanted to mess with. He doubted Ryan even knew he was projecting the tough, badass persona Seth would come to know so well, but that knowledge didn't make Seth any less nervous.

He hadn't wanted to be the one to speak first, but from the uncertain look on Ryan's face it became clear rather quickly that he would have to. He wondered what the kid had to be so nervous about. Seth was obviously the one at a disadvantage in this situation. He was fairly certain that if he said the wrong thing and offended their guest, Ryan could cross the room and smash his skull in less time than it took Seth to open his mouth and scream. He thought about making a long speech, welcoming him into their home, asking if he wanted a breakfast sandwich despite not knowing how to make one, and generally talking his ear off. He probably would have, but for the first time in perhaps his entire life, something told him to keep it simple.

"Wanna play?" he asked, holding up his controller.

He'd expected a contemptuous smile, a snort of derision, or at the very least, an avid refusal. He expected a guy like Ryan hung out with gang members and hardened criminals and would have no interest in a weakling like him. But, he hadn't gotten a snort or a mocking smile. What he got was a small, uncertain nod of ascension and before he really could comprehend what was happening he was sitting beside a hardened criminal, eating a bowl of cereal and planning to play video games with him.

"We could play Zelda," Seth suggested nervously. "Or Mortal Kombat. There is this girl on there that can whip people in the face with her hair and she reminds me of Storm from X-Men. I don't know if you know what X-Men is, but—"

"I know what X-Men is," Ryan told him quietly.

"Well," Seth began. "Do you know the comic book X-Men or the movie X-Men? They are pretty different. You see that a lot with comics that transition into movies. It never seems to transfer the right way. Personally I think they should have Stan Lee, or whoever the creator of the comic book is, direct the films. That way there won't be as much material lost and the movie experience would be a lot more gratifying than if they—"

Seth trailed off at the look on Ryan's face. The young man had his spoon hanging down over his chin and his eyebrows were raised, but whether he was amused or annoyed Seth couldn't tell.

"I talk a lot," Seth told him nervously. "It's a condition I've had since birth. Not that I could talk at birth, but my mom says that if I could have I would have. She says that once I started I never stopped and I suppose that's true. Sometimes I say things I shouldn't. You know, like if a girl asks if a dress makes her look fat, instead of telling her she doesn't I'll talk her ear off about society's standards for female beauty or something. I try not to talk because talking usually gets me in trouble, but the harder I try the more I talk so its almost pointless for me to try to begin with, you know?"

Ryan blinked as if trying to process everything Seth had just said to him. His face was still an unreadable mask and Seth could feel his heart pounding away at his chest. He wasn't afraid of Ryan, but the guy's silence unnerved him. He wasn't used to being listened to so intently and he was worried that he'd scared off the only person to take an active interest in him in years.

"Mortal Kombat sounds fine," Ryan said eventually, taking the spoon out of his mouth long enough to say those four words then replacing the utensil between his teeth.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Seth asked as he popped the disc into the console.

"Not much to say," Ryan shrugged, pulling out the spoon and placing it in the bowl holding his soggy Lucky Charms and milk.

"I talk a lot," Seth repeated, wishing he could slap himself in the face the moment the words were out.

"I know," Ryan said after a pause. "You told me."

"What I'm trying to say is that if I start to annoy you," Seth began. "You know, talk too much or something, you can just tell me to stop. Or, since words don't seem to be your forte, you could always punch me or—"

There was a flicker of emotion in Ryan's eyes that made Seth trail off for the second time in five minutes. He couldn't identify exactly what it was, but he'd never seen it on anybody in Newport before and for the first time since Ryan had arrived Seth began to see how different their worlds were. There was pain there, anger, regret, but unlike the plastic emotions the Newpies had to go along with their plastic implants, Ryan's emotions were real and they were deeply connected to who he was.

"Or…or something," Seth finished lamely.

The two young men passed into an awkward silence and Seth nearly jumped out of his skin when the theme music to Mortal Kombat came blaring from the speakers. He whipped his head around at the noise and swore loudly. When he turned back, Ryan was looking at him, the hint of a smile playing around the edges of his lips. This time there was no anger or regret in his eyes. This time there was warmth and Seth watched as Ryan transformed before his eyes. The tension in his muscles released and the expressionless mask disappeared. The giant emotional wall that had been between them came crumbling to the ground.

"Jumpy," Ryan remarked with a small smile. "Someone might think you're scared to fight me."

"Fight you?" Seth choked.

"Isn't that the point of Mortal Kombat?" Ryan asked, holding up the controller and rolling his eyes.

"Oh," Seth breathed. "Yeah. I thought you meant—"

"I know what you thought," Ryan said softly.

"Ryan, I didn't mean—"

"Its okay," Ryan said patiently, as if he'd been saying that his whole life and no longer believed it. "Besides, I wouldn't fight you, Seth. It would be to easy."

"Who would you fight?" Seth asked, sitting down beside him and grabbing the nearest controller.

"People," Ryan said, eyes going flat.

"What people?"

"Are we going to play this game or not?" Ryan asked him quietly, making it more than clear that he was done answering questions for the moment.

"Yeah," Seth said as Ryan put the spoon back in his mouth. "Get ready to get your ass kicked, buddy."

Ryan's eyes flickered over to him at the term of endearment, but he didn't say anything and Seth took that as a good sign. Of course, considering that Seth could count the number of sentences Kid Chino had said to him on one hand, he had to entertain the idea that Ryan didn't deem him important enough to correct. The thought was a sobering one and it played throughout his mind for the rest of their day together. Maybe he was just playing the part he needed to play in order to get into Sandy's good graces. Maybe he was just waiting until he didn't need them any longer and then he would let Seth know his true feelings.

That hadn't stopped Seth from trying to be friendly. The guy wouldn't share much of himself, but that was okay. Seth had plenty of topics to talk about and, if Ryan was playing a part, he deserved an Academy Award. He listened patiently as Seth babbled on and on, inputting his thoughts when needed, but otherwise letting him talk. It felt good to have someone listen to him for a change. It made him feel more optimistic about the world as a whole. Ryan seemed interested in his plans to sail and intrigued by Summer, two things that meant the world to Seth.

He'd successfully steered Ryan through the treacherous and shark infested waters of the Newport party scene. The look on Ryan's face when the first waiter had approached him with a plate full of foods made to be pronounced in a snooty French accent was priceless and the way he turned every woman's head without even trying was impressive. Ryan seemed to face their inquiries about his past with a sort of indifference that bordered on amusement. The best part was that Ryan barely had to say a word for the bored housewives of Newport to fall all over themselves. His silence reduced them to tittering school girls and Seth could see his mother watching him like a hawk. Seth suspected this was more because the women were looking at Ryan like he was a new toy to play with than her worry that Ryan would cause trouble.

Somehow Ryan convinced him to attend the party at Holly's beach house. He wasn't sure why Kid Chino wanted to go, but Summer was going to be there and maybe, with Ryan as his wingman, Seth would be able to work up the courage to talk to her. He remembered walking through the front door behind Ryan and seeing the intense displays of sex, drug use, and drinking that seemed to plague the trust-fund community. Seth's stomach lurched in discomfort, but one look at Ryan's face told Seth that Kid Chino felt in his element there. He passed by the kids doing drugs without so much as a second glance even though the substances there were much harder than marijuana. The white powder of cocaine, the pills of every shape and size that could only be homemade E, the needles spread out on the table, emptied of their contents. Wherever Ryan came from, whatever his home life had been, scenes like this weren't unusual. In fact, Seth suspected that if Ryan had come through the door to find a quiet mixer instead of an intense rager he would have had no idea how to handle himself.

Seth tried to keep up with him, tried to keep track of where Ryan was in case he needed somebody to help him make a quick escape, but Ryan had disappeared into the crowd. People were pressing drinks into his hand and Seth drank them without question, slightly alarmed at his behavior. Then he'd found the keg and his night had become a blur. There were intense flashes of clarity followed by hazy images that didn't connect with one another. Summer wrapped around Ryan's neck like she was the stripper and he was the pole. A flash of courage and rage that allowed him to slam Kid Chino against the wall. Screaming out Ryan's past to every teen in Newport. The look on Ryan's face when he did; the horror, the pain, and the shame. The beach fire, tilted upside down, as the water polo team held him by his legs. The realization that, once again, he was alone. The dazed amazement when he heard Ryan's voice through the jeering laughter and cruel taunts. The disbelief that followed as he watched, as if in slow motion, Ryan sink his fist into Luke's face. The scuffle that followed and the pain as his jawbone was bruised. The walk home was hazy, but the conversation they'd had in the pool house he remembered well enough, or at least the only part that was important. Ryan had his back.

But Seth had been an only child for too long. It had been easy, almost sensible, to think of himself when there had only been himself to think of. In fact, he was an only child in more ways than one. He had no siblings to share with, true enough, but he had no cousins either. There were no distant relations with children or long time friends of his parents, at least not friends with kids Seth actually wanted to hang out with. He was on his own and, as a result, had become rather self-centered. He didn't mean to be. Usually he didn't even know he was doing it until somebody pointed it out to him. His single child status wasn't an excuse for his behavior, but Seth was positive that the two were connected. The fact of the matter was that Ryan had his back, but he hadn't had Ryan's.

There it was. Out in the open. He hadn't been there for Ryan when he should have. He'd been so obsessed with the idea that a specimen from the female species wanted him that he'd dismissed Ryan's troubles. At the time he'd thought that Ryan could handle it. Ryan handled everything. Sometimes disastrously. Sometimes violently. But he always handled it. He didn't think that Ryan would find any kind of trouble when all he was doing was visiting his brother in a jail with dozens of armed guards around every corner. That was the problem though. He didn't think.

"Seth," Sandy said quietly, leaning his head out of Ryan's room. "Aren't you coming, son? Visiting hours are almost over."

Seth looked up at his father. Sandy had been superman to him once, but that was a long time ago. Now he just looked beaten and worn down. Seth frowned. He looked like Ryan had after he'd discovered his mother had abandoned him the first time. Like he had when Dawn had so casually brought up the fact that her ex had put his hands on her and Ryan too many times. How many times was too many? How much pain did one person have to go through to look as beaten down as Ryan had, as his father did now? Did he look like them? Was the aching, crushing pain in his chest what came from caring about somebody?

"I don't know if I can go in there," Seth said hoarsely. "I don't know if I can see him like that."

An hour ago he'd been determined to see Ryan and would have done everything short of karate chopping the nurse and sneaking into the ICU. Now that he was there, separated from Ryan by only a few feet of plywood and plaster, he was terrified. The strong antiseptic stench that permeated every hospital Seth had ever been in assaulted his nose and the incessant blips of the heart monitor nearly drove him up the wall. He'd been sick almost instantly and had to sit with his head between his knees lest he pass out. After that, he'd merely sat there, knees up so that he didn't trip the various nurses and doctors that came back and forth in a steady stream. His parents had gone in almost 90 minutes ago, but still Seth sat against the wall.

"Seth," Sandy said gently, coming to sit beside him in the hallway. "I know this is difficult. It's difficult for all of us. If you don't want to go in there you don't have to."

"I do have to," Seth said harshly. "I should have been there for him earlier and I wasn't. I can't bail on him now. He's…he's my…" Seth felt tears on his cheeks and he wiped them away furiously with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to meet Sandy's gaze. "He's my best friend, Dad. He's my only friend."

"I know," Sandy said. "Seth, he's important to all of us."

"You don't understand," Seth whispered. "Dad, Ryan was the first person who listened to me. Really listened. He was there for me when I had no one. I was nothing, I was invisible, but he saw me. And now…now he's in there…and I'm out here, healthy and alive. Why? Why does he deserve to have his life go to shit when all he's ever done is try and protect people? Why do I get two parents? A house? Food to eat? Why do I get that stuff, but Ryan doesn't? Why do I go my whole life without breaking a single bone and Ryan's broken a dozen? Why is it that when I just begin to live he has to die?"

"He's not dead yet, Seth," Sandy said softly. "As for your questions…I don't know." He shook his head. "You know, a father dreads the moment his kid finally asks a question they don't know the answer to. Why is the sky blue? Where did dinosaurs go? Or, your personal favorite, who does Superman's laundry? They're all easy. Why is life unfair? That's a question no parent is prepared for because there is no answer. There is no easy way to tell your child that sometimes bad things happen to good people. That there is cruelty, hatred, and prejudice in the world we live in. Realizing that is part of growing up, Seth. It doesn't make it any easier to handle or digest, but everyone goes through it. Some people don't learn it until they're my age. Some, like your grandfather, learn it and take advantage of it. And some, like Ryan, learn that life is unfair before they learn their multiplication tables and they adapt to it, harden themselves until every blow fate deals them is just a dent in their armor."

"What are you trying to say, Dad?"

"I guess I'm saying that this is your moment, Seth. This is the moment you learn that life isn't always fair. I hate that it had to be this way, son. I really do. I hate that Ryan is in there clinging to life by a thread. I hate the bastard that did this to him. But you know what?"

"What?" Seth asked softly.

"I may hate it," Sandy told him. "I may hate it with every breath I have, but it won't change anything. The cards have been played and now we can only wait and see what the deck holds for us, kid. Ryan is a fighter. He's a fighter because life made him that way. Because it gave him no other choice." Sandy leaned his head against his son's. "You have a choice, Seth. You can sit here and shake your fist at the world for being unfair. Or you can get in there and fight with him."

"I'm scared," Seth whispered.

"Its okay to be scared, Seth. I'm practically shaking in my boots. The second I stepped in that room I wanted to get the hell out because reality is ten times more frightening than imagination. But, I stayed. I stayed because of Ryan. Because he deserves to have someone stick by him. The kid's been alone long enough."

"Dad," Seth said. "Can—can I have some time alone with him?"

"Sure," Sandy smiled tiredly. "I'll get you when its time to leave. Tell your mother to come out here. The nurse just paged and said the police are here."

"You should get down there then," Seth told him, getting to his feet, his legs stiff from being stationary for so long.

"They can wait. I wanted to make sure you were okay first. Are you?"

"No," Seth said honestly. "But I'll manage."

"That's all you can ever do, Seth. I'm proud of you."

Seth nodded and turned towards the doorway. He could hear the Darth Vader like wheeze of the ventilator and his heart stuttered. He grit his teeth and shook the feeling away. Ryan had his back. It was time for Seth to have Ryan's.

Kirsten glanced up at him from Ryan's bedside, her eyes red and her cheeks blotchy. He could barely see the outline of Ryan's leg beneath a blue sheet and the tips of Ryan's fingers. That alone was enough to almost undermine every ounce of courage he'd managed to muster. He met Kirsten's eyes and she nodded. He didn't have to ask what she already knew. She kissed his forehead as she passed him and Seth leaned into her touch, seeking the comfort that could only come from a mother.

"I'll be waiting to take you home," she whispered to him. "Your father is going to stay with him tonight."

"Okay," Seth said. "I'll find you when I'm done." He turned to his father. "I just realized something, Dad. I always felt invisible, but Ryan was sort of invisible to, wasn't he?" His father looked at him strangely. "People knew he was there, but it was like he didn't matter to them. That's the same as being invisible, I think. Maybe that's why he saw me, you know? Maybe it takes an invisible man to know one."

"Maybe," Sandy rasped, voice harsh with emotion. "Or maybe he sensed you needed a friend. And you sensed he needed a brother."

Seth smiled at his parents, took a deep breath, and stepped into the dimly lit hospital room that had been his nightmare for the past hour. He had been expecting a scene from some sort of science fiction movie, tubes of viscous fluids, wires sprouting haphazardly all around them, the crackle of electricity. What he saw was nothing like the movies. There was no fiction in the ICU that night. Only hard, cold reality.

Seth moved to the chair by the bed and sunk down it, staring at Ryan in disbelief. He methodically took in every detail of his friend's condition, memorized the exact location of every tube, every electrode and every machine. There were so many tubes that Seth began to lose track of where one ended and the other began. A bag of blood hung next to a bag of saline on an I.V. stand in the corner and Seth trailed his eyes to where their tubes disappeared, one in Ryan's hand and the other in the crook of his elbow. There was some kind of catheter stuck in Ryan's other arm, but it didn't look like it was administering or taking anything. His eyes followed the clear plastic up to where it hooked into the EKG machine and he watched the various wavelengths flow across the screen. A piece of tape on the right side of Ryan's neck hid another I.V., but Seth didn't know its purpose any more than he did the others. The only tube he identified right away was the impossibly thick one inserted in Ryan's open mouth, held down by medical tape. He knew it ran down his throat, over his vocal cords, and into his lungs where it forced his body to breathe as if it no longer knew how to. The endotracheal tube or something like that.

He watched, mesmerized as Ryan's chest rose and fell softly, as if Kid Chino was merely sleeping. It gave him an excuse to look at something other than how waxy his skin looked, how sunken his cheekbones were. The dark shadows beneath Ryan's eyes stood out starkly against the pallor of his face. Seth imagined that if he could see them Ryan's lips would be cracked and dry. He reached out a tentative hand and squeezed Ryan's fingers, hoping, praying for some kind of response. In the movies there was always some twitch, some clue to the audience that not all hope was lost. But, as Seth had learned many times over that night, life was not the movies. Ryan didn't so much as twitch and his fingers were so lifeless and cold in Seth's hand that he immediately let go.

A quiet knock on the door alerted Seth to the presence of a rather plump, but pleasant looking nurse. She smiled at him and for some strange reason he could not understand he felt calmed by her presence. The nurse bustled into the room and began to chart Ryan's readings and diagnostics.

"Don't mind me," she clucked absently. "Just pretend I'm not here. You've only got fifteen minutes left for visiting hours, you know."

"Fifteen minutes?" Seth croaked. "But…I just got here. That's not long enough."

The nurse turned to appraise him quietly from across the room and she frowned softly. Her gaze flickered to Ryan and her expression softened.

"The hospital clearly states that visiting hours are from 7-9 pm," she told him. "I'm afraid that those are the rules, dear. But, hypothetically someone could squeeze an extra thirty minutes out of it if a nurse just happened to make her rounds and didn't see you." She smiled at him gently. "You understand what I'm saying, sweetheart?"

"Yes," Seth said. "Thank you."

"For what?" she quipped with a wink. "I haven't done anything."

"Right. Right. What are you doing?"

"Checking this poor dear's vitals," the nurse told him. "Each of these tubes measures something different."

"I know what the electrodes are for," Seth said, standing up and moving beside her. "And I know the I.V. lines and the ventilator tube. But, I don't know these." He pointed to the tube taped to the side of Ryan's neck and the one that disappeared into Ryan's opposite arm. "What do they measure?"

"Well," she said. "You're a curious one."

"I want to know," Seth said sheepishly. "Just in case…" He trailed off and shrugged his shoulders.

"Just in case?"

"What if something goes wrong? What if I'm the only person here and the monitor is picking up something dangerous, but I don't know what it is. What if there is an earthquake and it knocks out the power? What if the backup generators don't turn on and—"

He stopped. If the hospital didn't have power and the backup generators didn't work there would be nothing to keep Ryan breathing. Nothing to keep his heart pumping. He would die because of an electric malfunction.

"Do these things have battery packs?" Seth asked frantically. "They should have battery packs, don't you think? All these guys in lab coats with PhD's and they can't even come up with an idea as simple as battery packs? Lots of things have battery packs these days. Laptops, cellphones, Ipods. Why can't there be battery packs for life support? I mean, if something happens and there's no power then all these people die, right? So battery packs just make sense, don't they? And yet, I don't see a single battery pack. Not one! You expect me to trust you with Ryan's life when you don't even have a damn batter pack to keep his life support running if something goes wrong. There would be nothing anyone could do to save him. Nothing I could do to…to…" He slumped down in the chair and put his head in his hands. "There's nothing I can do. Is this what he feels like? Helpless? Or does he feel anything at all? Does he even know I'm here? I don't know what I'm supposed to do." He looked up at the nurse, but didn't bother to wipe his tears away. Not this time. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do."

"Be there for him," the nurse told him gently. "That's all anyone can do. The rest is between him and his maker, whoever that may be. And, most importantly, don't give up hope. I've seen hope do some powerful things around here and after thirty years of working in this hospital and seeing families just like yours I truly believe that hope is stronger than any medicine." She pulled Seth to his feet. "Now, dry your tears, young man, because I'm only going to explain this once."

"That line in his neck is called the CVP line," the nurse explained methodically. "It measures venous blood pressure. That means it—"

"Blood that's returning to the heart," Seth supplied, calling upon his knowledge of biology and human anatomy.

"Right," the nurse nodded, impressed. "And this line in his arm is the arterial line. It fits right into one of his arteries and measures the level of oxygen and carbon dioxide in his blood." She pointed down to the bag hanging just below Ryan's bedside and grimaced. "I'm sure you know what that is."

"A Foley catheter," Seth guessed. "Its where—well, it's the toilet bag, right?"

"Yes," the nurse said with a small smile. "They haven't inserted his feeding tube yet, but if and once they do that bag will come in handy."

"A feeding tube?" Seth asked, swallowing. "Where do they put that?"

"Usually in the stomach here," the nurse explained, pointing to a spot on Ryan's belly. "They surgically insert the tube right into the smaller intestine so that he can get the nutrients he needs. If he makes it through tonight they'll insert one in the morning."

"Okay," Seth said softly, not sure he wanted to know anymore. "Thanks for explaining it to me."

"Did it help ease your mind a bit?"

"Not really." He thought about it. "Not at all, actually."

"It was worth a try."

"Yeah."

"I have rounds to do," she told him, glancing up at the clock. "You have thirty minutes and then I have to kick you out. I'm already breaking the rules by letting you stay."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Seth told her with a small smile.

"That's the ticket. And, remember, sweetheart…don't give up hope."

She disappeared from the room and once again Seth was left alone with Ryan, the blip of the monitor, and the rasp of the ventilator. He instantly wished she would come back. What was he supposed to do now? The nurse said be there for him, but what the hell did that mean anyway? Was he supposed to talk to him?

Seth considered this. He was good at talking. He'd established that with Ryan from the very first day. If Seth closed his eyes and tuned out the various hospital sounds around him he could talk to him as if he weren't comatose. It wasn't like Ryan had a whole lot to say in their conversations anyways. On his broody days it was a task just to get words with more than one syllable to pass his lips.

Seth sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. He could do this. He would do this. Family had to stick together and Ryan was family now. He'd been family the second he'd stood up to Luke for him.

"Dude," Seth began. "You missed a complete disaster at Thanksgiving today. Now, I know what you're thinking, how could your day be any crazier than mine? Normally I would agree with you, but today—today was like Defcon 5, dude. My mom and dad decided it would be a good idea to set up some kind of weird blind date between Mr. Cooper and this girl my dad works with. Who does that? I mean, a blind date on Thanksgiving?" Seth imagined Ryan's expression and smiled. "I know, crazy. But, it gets better. Guess who showed up at our door?" Seth paused as if actually waiting for a reply. Ryan would have merely shrugged anyways. "Julie Cooper and my grandpa. That whole thing is so messed up, dude. Your girlfriend's mom is like my grandmother." Seth made a face and shivered. "You put my dad and my grandfather in the same room and there is always bound to be trouble. It's like they're constantly playing sharks and minnows, but they switch roles just to keep things interesting. Everything sort of fell apart after that." Seth shook his head. "But, I haven't gotten to the best part yet. So, you know Anna was coming over and you know that Summer kissed me on her boat? Well…"

Seth told Ryan the story of his Thanksgiving debacle. He told him about Anna kissing him and about Summer kissing him and how surreal it felt to be wanted by two people at one time, one of whom hadn't even known he'd existed. He talked until his voice was hoarse and the nurse finally came to kick him out.

He still couldn't help Ryan physically. He couldn't get him a battery pack for his life support or make his eyes open with a magic word. He couldn't breathe for him and he couldn't make his heart beat. But, there was one thing Seth could do for his brother. One thing he'd been gifted at for years.

Seth could talk. He could chatter mindlessly about people he didn't really care about, places he had never been to. He could talk about anything from music to books. He was good at talking.

Maybe there wasn't any point. Maybe Ryan couldn't hear him, couldn't know that Seth was there for him. Maybe his words would be falling on deaf ears, but Seth didn't care.

Because maybe, just maybe Ryan could hear him. Maybe knowing that Seth was there for him would give him a reason to fight harder, to be the lean and dangerous kid from Chino that nobody should mess with.

It was a small glimmer of hope to have. Seth knew that. But a small glimmer was all he needed. After all, even a light as bright as the sun was a glimmer somewhere. A glimmer of hope to Seth could be Ryan's sun. It could be a light in the darkness for his brother to follow.

A light to follow back to Seth. To Sandy and Kirsten.

A light to follow home.