Sandy and Kirsten's voices were low, but little bits of their conversation carried down the hall.

Seth slowed his pace, trying to make out the gist of what they were saying without yet exposing his location.

Seth Cohen: Once and Future Master of Stealth.

"Did you hear back from...and what time?"

"I just hope...Dr. Kim..."

"Remember what happened with...daughter?"

"What happened with whose daughter? And what's this about Dr. Kim?" Seth asked as he shuffled into the kitchen, deciding that then was as good a time as any for the ambush.

Kirsten whirled around, eyes wide. Said eyes darted over to Sandy, who looked similarly spooked.

"Oh uh, good morning, sweetie." Kirsten smiled. "Can I get you a bagel?"

"Sure." Seth wasn't really hungry, but he knew his parents would be on his back if he didn't eat. He plopped down on the stool next to Ryan, who looked up from the Sports section to give him a little nod. "So what's going on with Dr. Kim?"

His mom and dad did their silent marital communication thing.

Seth bit the inside of his cheek, hit with a sudden sharp burst of anger.

He didn't really know why. He didn't care that they were talking to Dr. Kim.

Obviously they were going to have to talk with Dr. Kim.

"Your father and I are setting up a meeting with Dr. Kim," Kirsten explained, setting a glass of orange juice in front of Seth.

"Okay..." The sharp citrus smell of the orange juice hit Seth's nostrils, making him nauseous.

"Just to talk about the plan for school while you're getting treatment," Sandy added.

"What do you mean, plan?" Seth's eyes narrowed. "How much strategizing do we need to do? They don't give you a decent doctor's note to excuse actual cancer?"

His mom and dad continued their side conversation, their eyebrows and mouths and jaws contorting this way and that.

It looked like quite the heated exchange.

Seth wanted to go full petulant and like, knock over his orange juice glass, send the offensive smelling orange liquid all over the kitchen, leave them finding stray bits of pulp in the cracks in the tiles weeks later.

Watch them ignore him then.

He didn't know why he'd woken up so angry, but there he was.

And they'd been talking about this whole thing in front of Ryan.

That Ryan did the whole quiet and unassuming thing—complete with a newspaper open in front of his face—didn't mean that he wasn't sitting there absorbing everything.

Stage whispering wasn't really that discreet, and still waters still had ears, Mom and Dad.

Granted, Ryan would more than likely fill Seth in on everything he'd missed, so that was obviously to his advantage, but still...

"What?" Seth asked sharply. He could feel Ryan looking at him, but he didn't care.

"We just need to talk about a plan for making up the work you're going to miss." Sandy spoke slowly, carefully.

"We don't know right now how much school you might miss, so we wanted to talk to Dr. Kim about options," Kirsten added. "So you don't fall behind."

"Options? Like what options?"

"Well, we're going to have to see what you're up for first." Sandy ran a hand through his hair.

"Okay, but like what then?"

Another glance between his parents.

"We can talk about hiring a tutor, but we don't want you pushing yourself too hard," Kirsten said.

It took Seth's mind a few moments to catch up.

Makeup work?

Tutoring?

Fall behind?

Apparently actual cancer didn't warrant a doctor's note.

"Wait, so I don't even get to like, enjoy the shitty consolation prize of missing school?" Seth demanded. "I'm going to be rotting in the hospital worrying about falling behind?"

Was he yelling?

He felt a little like he was yelling.

And his parents flinched and looked away, like maybe he was yelling, and Ryan shifted nervously, that stupid newspaper crinkling loudly.

Wait.

Fuck.

"Are they gonna make me stay back?" Seth's eyes widened to saucers.

"Seth, let's slow down here, okay?" His dad held up a hand. "We're getting way ahead of ourselves. We don't even have a second opinion yet." He took a few steps towards Seth, now both hands held up in a maddeningly non-threatening fashion. "We just want to make sure we're prepared, so that you don't have to worry about school."

"Daddy and I are going to talk to Dr. Kim and figure everything out, okay?" Kirsten gave Seth a reassuring smile. "The only thing we want you to be focused on right now is getting better."

Seth felt his jaw clench, at all of the things they weren't telling him, at the way they were trying to soothe him, to manage his feelings, at the infantilizing use of the word Daddy-also invoked in front of Ryan-at the claim that he shouldn't worry about school, when he was pretty sure he got to decide how big an emergency it would be to have to repeat sophomore fucking year.

"Are they going to make me stay back if I miss a lot of school or can't do this tutoring thing?" Seth asked again, trying not to grit his teeth.

"Seth, we're really not there right now, I promi-"

"This fucking sucks." It took everything in Seth not to hurl the stupid orange juice glass at the stupid French door.

No one scolded him for his language.

They were clearly in desperate times.

"Sweetie..." Kirsten trailed off, faltering. She looked away, feeling her eyes get hot.

"Seth..." Sandy took a step towards Seth before reconsidering.

"I'm going back to bed," Seth said tersely, pushing back from the counter and swiftly retreating to his bedroom.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ryan adjusted his seatbelt and glanced at Sandy across the middle console.

Sandy's eyes were closed and he rubbed at his brow as he heaved a heavy sigh.

"I can get a ride," Ryan offered.

"No, no, I'm fine." Sandy opened his eyes and gave Ryan a tired smile. "I want to drive you to school. Besides, I need to swing by the office anyway."

"I'm sorry," Ryan said softly. "I'm sure Seth's just..." he trailed off, not really sure how to finish that sentence.

"I really can't imagine how he's feeling right now." Sandy turned the key in the ignition. "But then I can't really imagine how I'm feeling right now." He cleared his throat, feeling uneasy with offering Ryan even a vague glimpse into his state of mind. "It'll just take some time to sort things out, but we'll get there."

Ryan didn't say anything.

There were a few minutes of quiet as Sandy pulled out of the driveway and they started driving towards school.

"How are you doing, Ryan?"

"I'm okay." Ryan's voice was quiet.

"I know this is a lot." Sandy fiddled with the radio dial. "And I know Kirsten and I are going to have a lot going on, but I want you to know that we're here for you. I meant it the other night-I want you to tell us what you need." He smiled a little. "Even though I know you probably won't."

"I don't need anything." Ryan looked out the window. "I can handle myself, and you guys need to be focused on Seth right now." He paused, sitting up a little straighter. "But I mean, if there's anything I can do..."

"You can keep being there for him." Sandy pulled into the Harbor drop-off circle. "I'm sure he could use a friend right now." He put the Rover in park and turned to Ryan. "But if things get to be too much, know it's not your job to take care of him or us, okay?" Seeing no movement or hint of an answer from Ryan, Sandy placed a hand on his shoulder. "I mean it. These kinds of things...I mean, like with Kirsten's mother..." Sandy paused, exhaling a heavy breath. "It can be a marathon, not a sprint, and it's easy to get burnt out. I don't want that for you, not when you have so much going on yourself." He squeezed Ryan's shoulder. "I know it's a hard thing for you, but I'd like you to let us take care of you too." He gave Ryan a crooked half-smile. "Maybe just to let an old dad feel useful once in a while, huh?"

Ryan blinked a few times, looking down at his hands.

He thought about how Sandy's words mirrored Kirsten's from that first night in the hospital, before they'd even known what was wrong with Seth. He wondered if the Cohens had coordinated about what to say to him and what they wanted from him, or if it was one of what Seth called their Creepy Old Married Couple things, like when they effortlessly finished each other's sentences, or like the night that, through some kind of breakdown in communication around who was picking up dinner, Sandy and Kirsten each came home with the exact same set of meals from Ciao Balboa, although they both swore that they hadn't discussed where or what to get for dinner with each other.

"Ryan?"

"Okay." Ryan gave a little nod.

"You're a good kid." Sandy squeezed his shoulder again. "I want you to know that no matter what, you're a part of this family. You're stuck with us." He smiled. "Whether you wanna be or not, you hear me?"

"I uh, I appreciate it." Ryan tried not to think too hard about the implications of what Sandy was saying.

He wasn't even sure if Sandy meant it that way, or if it was his mind was the one taking it to the worst possible scenario.

"I'll probably be the one to pick you up after school, okay?" Sandy patted his shoulder.

"Okay." Ryan hiked his backpack up on his shoulder and opened the car door.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The hallway was swarmed with students milling around before first period.

Somewhere in there was Marissa.

Ryan hoped that he didn't see her. He hoped that she wouldn't try to make up with him again. He wasn't sure he'd be able to say no at that point, and he really wasn't sure that that was a good thing, for either of them.

He caught sight of Summer, standing in front of her open locker and staring off into the distance.

"Hey, Summer." Ryan sidled up to her.

"Hey, Ryan."

Ryan smiled a little at the picture of Seth and Summer that was taped on the inside of Summer's locker. They were both laughing, Seth with his arm around Summer, Summer's head tilted back and her eyes closed.

Summer saw where Ryan was looking, and her lips upturned just slightly.

"How's it going?"

Summer sighed. "Well now that Cohen and I are exclusive, I've basically committed social suicide. None of my friends will even look at me anymore."

"I meant.." Ryan paused, wondering how he could have misread Summer so profoundly. "Ah. Joking."

"Yeah; Cohen's a bad influence on me." Summer exhaled a deep breath. "I haven't really talked about it with anyone other than Cohen." She grabbed a book from her locker, looked at it, then shoved it back in.

"You haven't talked to Marissa?" Ryan's brow furrowed. He figured she'd be the first person Summer would confide in.

Summer leaned up against the lockers, looking glum. "Coop's been wrapped up in her own world since you guys stopped dating." She sniffled. "Honestly, I'm just here for her if nobody else is around." Her eyes looked teary. "She didn't ditch only you for Oliver you know." She paused. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Ryan shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

Summer bit her lip and looked off into the distance.

"How's Cohen doing?"

Ryan's mouth quirked. He scratched the back of his neck.

"He's uh, doing okay," he said after an awkward silence.

It felt like kind of a stupid thing to say, but he wasn't really aware of a better answer, or one that Seth would be cool with him sharing with Summer.

Seth had been pissed off at breakfast, but Ryan would've been pissed off too.

He knew that Sandy and Kirsten were trying to be nice and trying to be delicate, but it felt like that hollow Newport nice, that pretending like things weren't as bad as they clearly were nice, that trying to manage your feelings while withholding important information from you nice.

It made you feel crazy, when you just needed someone to level with you.

In third grade, he'd been sitting in his school counselor's office in Chino, watching as Mr. Hatch stammered and rambled his way through some kind of explanation of why he and Trey had been called down to see him.

And then his mother had stormed in, seething, and spat "Your fucking father's been arrested again."

It wasn't nice or delicate, what she'd said or how she'd said it, but it cut through a lot of bullshit too.

"Will you tell him I'll call him tonight? Or I'll try to come by after school." Summer hugged her arms across her midsection. "If you think the Cohens would be cool with that."

"I think so," Ryan said.

"Do you know if he's coming to school at all before...?"

"I don't know." Ryan adjusted his backpack strap on his shoulder. "He's got a bunch of appointments this week, and I'm not sure the Cohens will let him come."

Summer nodded. "I've gotta get to Bio," she said. She gave Ryan a little nod and strode briskly away, trying to distance herself from the one other person in the school who had any idea what she was truly feeling at that moment.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sandy managed to limit his time at the office to filing a few motions for continuance and grabbing a few files that he'd be able to work on from home.

He made it back home in the late morning hours to find Seth curled up on the couch, Nana Cohen's quilt wrapped around his body.

Sandy stopped short.

Caleb was next to Seth on the couch, awkwardly clutching a video game controller and squinting at the tv screen.

Kirsten was on a nearby armchair, her day planner open on her lap, pen in hand.

"Hi all," Sandy greeted the room.

"Hey, Dad," Seth twisted around and shot Sandy a lopsided smile. "I convinced Grandpa to play his first ever video game, strictly for my amusement. I'm really making this cancer thing work for me." He held up his hand and mimed like he was controlling a pair of marionettes.

"That's great, son." Sandy smiled obligingly. He could see that Seth was straining to paper over what had happened at breakfast, could feel him wanting everyone to match his energy and lightness.

"And Grandpa's teaching me an assortment of new vocabulary words."

"Even better." Sandy patted Seth's head fondly as he headed over to where Kirsten sat. He laced his fingers through her's. "And Cal, it's a pleasure, as always."

"Sanford." Caleb continued to scowl at the screen.

All told, it was a pretty civil exchange, for the two of them.

It felt intrusive having Caleb in the house when Sandy's instinct was to build up a protective wall around his family unit-both physically and emotionally-but it also didn't feel like the appropriate time to stoke the flames of their ongoing animosity.

And, of course, Caleb was an important part of Kirsten and Seth's concept of their family unit. There was always that.

"My dad was able to get in touch with the Children's Hospital in LA," Kirsten said quietly, glancing over to Seth before her eyes settled back on Sandy. "They're able to fit Seth in for tomorrow afternoon at four."

"Dr. Penner is the best in the country," Caleb chimed in. "It'd be a waste of time going anywhere else."

"That's great." Sandy bit back a pang of resentment that his father-in-law had done what he and Kirsten hadn't been able to, having been informed by the Children's Hospital that, because of scheduling on their end, they were better off moving down the list of recommended hospitals.

He knew it was petty, and he knew that the most important thing was that Seth's care was placed into the best hands possible, but it also grazed that old and open wound that Caleb loved to dig at, the implication that Sandy couldn't provide for his family, couldn't protect them, couldn't network his way to the top hospital on less than forty-eight hours notice.

Couldn't keep his own son healthy and safe.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Seth kept his eyes fixed on the tv screen while he listened to his parents' conversation, watching with only mild interest as his grandfather bumbled his way through the ninja game.

They were talking about the second opinion.

Seth wondered if needing a second opinion was supposed to make him feel hopeful, like there was a shot that it was all just a big misunderstanding somehow.

What would the second opinion be?

Nah, you're just a scrawny low-energy wuss who bruises easily.

So the second opinion would be that he's Seth Cohen, basically.

"I can take him," Sandy offered. "I can get Stan to cover my pre-trials."

"I don't want to put you out or anything," Seth piped up, annoyed despite himself that they were continuing their charming habit of talking about him—nay, making plans for him—when he was in the same room. "I could borrow the car, go on my own. I was thinking of getting out of the house tomorrow anyway."

Despite his irritation, he had meant the suggestion as a mostly sincere way of trying to ease his parents' stress, but both of them seemed aghast at the very idea.

"I'll take you," Sandy offered, as Kirsten simultaneously came out with "Don't be ridiculous; you are not going alone," in a borderline scolding tone.

"We'll all go," Kirsten announced, shutting her book.

"Kiki, I need you tomorrow for when we talk to Fred Anderson. I can't stand the jackass, but he seems to like you." Caleb never tore his eyes away from the screen, furiously tapping buttons.

Kirsten looked torn, but Sandy tried to give her a little smile to say it was okay. She also needed-maybe more than any of them, given how hard it had been when her mother had been sick-to remember that it was a marathon and not a sprint, that dividing the labor and focusing on other things when they could might ultimately be the best thing for all of them.

"No worries, Mom. Dad and I will be fine." Seth paused. "So am I going to school tomorrow, like before the hospital?"

Sandy and Kirsten looked at each other.

Sandy shrugged.

Kirsten frowned.

"Do you want to go to school?" Sandy asked.

Seth shrugged. "I dunno. Everyone's so concerned with me 'falling behind' and all." He paused. "And Summer asked me."

"Ah, so that's why you want to go to school, so you can make time with that girlfriend of yours," Caleb chimed in. "Hah! I massacred that ninja bastard."

"We'll think about it," Kirsten said finally. "And it'll depend on how you feel tomorrow morning."

"That guy was on your side, Grandpa," Seth pointed out, not bothering to respond to his mother. "And what year is it again? Pardon me, but Summer and I don't make time." He sniffed indignantly.

"I'm going to the kitchen to grab a bite to eat," Sandy announced. "Anybody want anything?"

"No thanks." Kirsten opened her book again.

Caleb just waved his hand in a go away gesture.

"Seth?"

"Uh, actually, Dad, I'll go with you." Seth scooted off the couch and followed Sandy into the kitchen.

Seth stood at the island as Sandy started rummaging through the refrigerator.

"What do you want?" Sandy asked, pulling out some leftover pizza from the night before.

"Maybe just a ginger ale."

"Nothing to eat?" Seeing Seth shake his head, Sandy grabbed a can of ginger and slid it over to Seth. "Did you end up having any breakfast?"

"Yeah, I had a bagel." Seeing his dad's skeptical look, Seth held up a hand. "Okay, fine. Half a bagel."

"You gotta eat, son."

"So they tell me." Seth resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"About earlier..."

Seth groaned.

Sandy pressed forward. "Listen, there's a lot coming at you, and it's understandable to be upset or angry." Sandy rested a hand on Seth's shoulder. "But your mom and I are going to work this school thing out; I promise."

"I know." Seth's eyes were trained on the counter.

Sandy took a good look at Seth, at his pale pallor and the dark purple rings hugging his eyes. He still had Nana Cohen's quilt thrown over his shoulders, the effect making Seth look much younger than sixteen. Sandy had flashes of sick days past, putting Seth into a lukewarm bath to help manage a particularly nasty fever, Seth lying on the couch under Nana Cohen's quilt, his head resting on Sandy's lap, Sandy absently playing with his curls as they watched Mrs. Doubtfire for the seven hundredth time, Seth-even through his fever-mumbling his favorite lines along with Robin Williams.

It hurt to think that Seth would have to stay in the hospital, away from the comforts of home and of family, away from anything familiar and safe. It hurt to imagine him falling asleep at night in an unfamiliar room and an unfamiliar bed. It hurt to think that, after some stretch of time, that same hospital room and hospital bed would come to feel familiar to Seth.

Sandy made a mental note to pack Nana Cohen's quilt in Seth's hospital bag.

"Um, so tomorrow?" Seth's voice wavered a little. "Are they just looking at my test results, or do you know if they're gonna make me do the same tests again?" He looked at Sandy, eyes wide, and then looked away, back down at the counter. "Just uh, guy likes to know if he's getting his bones sucked dry again, ya know?"

"I'm not sure," Sandy said. "Dr. Pearson said they'd be reviewing your file, but I'm not sure if they'll want you to do any more tests."

Seth nodded, taking a long slow sip from his ginger ale can. His hand shook a little, sloshing a little liquid out of the can as he placed it back down on the counter.

"Seth? You okay?"

"I'm uh, kinda freaking out," Seth admitted with a nervous laugh. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, exhaling a shaky breath.

"Oh Seth." Sandy's heart constricted. "C'mere." Sandy pulled Seth into a hug, gently easing Seth's head onto his shoulder and rubbing his hand in gentle circles on his back. "Everything's going to be okay, but I know it's scary."

Seth's shoulders shook a little.

"Shhh." Sandy kissed the side of Seth's head. "You just stay here as long as you need to, okay?"

Sandy felt a pang of guilt at what a relief it was, to hold Seth and rub his back and be a shoulder to cry on.

That version of Seth-young and scared and vulnerable and looking to Sandy for comfort-was much easier to know what to do with than the Seth of the night before-maybe equally scared, but also sharp and skeptical and well-aware of how hollow Sandy's reassurances were.

And there was another layer to Sandy's guilt, knowing that part of the relief was being granted a job and a distraction from his own fear. It had been frustrating, Seth shutting him out, depriving him of that sense that he was helping, that he was doing something.

After a few moments, Seth pulled back, wiping at his eyes.

"Sorry," Seth said, embarrassed at the emotion and the outburst, and at the little wet splotches on the shoulder of his dad's shirt.

"It's okay, Seth. Really." Sensing Seth's discomfort, Sandy opted to give him a little emotional space by shifting his focus. He grabbed a slice of cold pizza. "Sure I can't convince you to eat something?"

"Nah." Seth waved it away. "I'll eat a little later." His lip curled. "And maybe not pizza."

"Fair enough." Sandy paused, wondering if he should leave well enough alone. "We're going to get through this. You know that, right?" he said softly.

"I know." Seth's lips turned up into a half-smirk. "I'm a fighter, as all of the doctors who just met me a few days ago were able to ascertain with lightning speed."

Sandy chuckled. "What can I say-we Cohen men project great strength."

There was a comfortable beat of quiet, Seth taking a swig of ginger ale and Sandy a bite of pizza.

"I think I'm gonna head up to bed," Seth announced. He sniffed, then waved away Sandy's offer of the tissue box. "I don't need to dangle this kind of bait in front of Grandpa," he added, gesturing to his splotchy tear-stained face. Seeing Sandy's confused expression, he added, "He's been on good behavior so far, but I figure there's only so much goodwill and restraint The Cancer can buy me." He snickered. "I guess telling a cancer kid he'll never be an athlete might feel a bit like punching down, even for Grandpa."

Sandy blinked, taken aback.

He'd had some idea that Caleb and Seth's interactions mimicked his own with his father-in-law. While Caleb directed his snide comments about Sandy towards his salary or his shabby clothes or his Jewishness, he'd lob at Seth barbs about his gangly frame or his unruly mop of hair or his nonexistent social life. And for his part, Seth always seemed so unbothered, verbally spiking it back to Caleb with an ease and quickness that belied any kind of distress or hurt feelings.

Sandy had even enjoyed their verbal sparring at times, especially as Seth's rejoinders had become wittier and more sophisticated.

Like there had been the time that Caleb had noted Seth's perpetual lack of a girlfriend and Seth had mused aloud about how all of Caleb's girlfriends were clearly attracted to his thinning hair and his overall humorlessness and definitely not the tremendous amounts of money he spent on them in exchange for their company-and I think there might be a term for that, Grandpa.

That one had delighted Sandy so much that, as he and Kirsten were getting ready for bed later that evening, he'd told Kirsten he wanted to embroider Seth's verbal takedown on a throw pillow and keep it in the living room.

But in all that time and with every exchange he'd witnessed, Sandy couldn't remember even considering whether they upset Seth, whether his pithy comebacks masked any distress or any hurt feelings.

"Are you-are you okay with him being here?" Sandy asked. "I mean, I can..." he trailed off.

"What?" Seth looked confused, then slightly alarmed, like maybe he'd said too much and Sandy was about to take it far too seriously. "Oh no, it's fine. He's fine." He waved a dismissive hand. "It's not a big deal. I just don't feel like dealing with it." He yawned, pointing at his gaping mouth as he did so. "And clearly I need a nap anyway," he added, blinking rapidly as the yawn tapered off.

"Okay." Sandy still felt a little unsettled. "Have a good nap then." Sandy watched Seth secure Nana Cohen's quilt around his shoulders and slowly shuffle out of the room.

He felt another sharp pang of resentment, although this one felt less petty. Caleb had invaded their house and their family life, and now Seth was exiling himself to his bedroom to avoid having to devote any mental energy to coming up with a biting comeback if his grandfather mocked him for crying about having cancer.

Because it had occurred to him that his own grandfather might mock him for crying about having cancer.

Because his grandfather was perhaps not an important part of his concept of their family unit, and Sandy hadn't seen that before now.

Sandy tossed his half-eaten slice of pizza in the trash, suddenly not feeling very hungry.