Title: The Moments After.

Author: Static-disturbed

Summary: The hours following Marissa's death. Angst.

AN: I'm maybe a little obsessed with writing about Marissa's death. Also, did this in about 2 hours am liable to hate it when I wake up after some sleep. And of course, they aren't mine, I just like to make them cry.

8:22 pm

Reds and blues danced across Kirsten's face as she skittered frantically from the Lexus before Sandy had even come to a full stop. A long fire truck was parked diagonally across the road, police cruisers on either side. It was the kind of scene you passed on the highway during a traffic jam, the kind you tried not to gawk at as you whispered, "God I hope nobody got hurt."

The road was taped off at least half a block away from the actual accident. Kirsten broke into a run, ducking under flapping yellow tape. She could feel Sandy at her heels and somewhere in the distance she could hear his voice calling out to her; he sounded foggy like her father's voice always had when she was a child, yelling at her from above the surface of the swimming pool to stop holding her breath and come in for dinner.

A police officer reached for her with a frantic shout of "Miss you can't cross the tape," and she ducked his arms expertly.

And then the ground below her seemed to wobble and all at once she wanted to turn back time, to make her eyes un-see. The three EMT's in their blue uniforms glanced up at her like she'd just walked in on a private conversation.

Marissa's delicate face looked chalky and unreal, like that of a porcelain doll. Her nose and chin were grotesquely smeared with blood that looked black in the dim, artificially lit street. The zipper slid over her ashy lips and closed eyes until the bag was sealed shut. Kirsten wanted to tell them to open it back up; Marissa couldn't breathe under all that plastic.

Her eyes seemed to blur like the lenses of binoculars that were being adjusted. When the picture finally came back into focus they fell over one young EMT's shoulder, on the wreckage that lay there. What had once been a white SUV was now a charred heap of metal; mangled on the side of the lonely road.

Her knees betrayed her and she fell backwards, into Sandy's arms.

"You can't be here," another officer approached, giving the gentle order.

"Our son," Sandy stuttered, haunted eyes still fixed on the plastic blue body bag only six feet away, "we got a call. He was in the accident. That's his car."

"Please," Kirsten begged, wondering if the strangled noise that came from her mouth was even coherent, "My son, my Ryan..."

"Blonde hair?" an EMT called out. He was slamming the back of an ambulance shut; the sirens weren't on Kirsten noted. She blinked; Marissa's body was gone from sight. "Strong looking kid?"

"That's him!" Sandy practically shouted, "Is he…" the words hung suspended in the air for a second that felt like ten.

"He's okay. A little banged up, but he was awake and responsive. He gave the cops the description of the car that hit them and the name of the guy who was driving. They took him to NMC in an ambulance about five minutes ago."

Kirsten all at once felt a rush of joy in her heart that was immediately overshadowed by a toxic mix of grief, worry, pain and guilt.

"Her…Marissa Cooper…her parents?" Sandy gestured with a weak hand towards the ambulance.

"They've been notified sir," the officer answered simply.

Kirsten pictured Julie's face and fought a wave of nausea. She let Sandy lead her back to the car.

12:37 AM

There were tests and X-rays, results that needed to be waited on. Someone had cut Ryan's shirt off and he sat on the edge of the bed wearing an oversized blue scrub top. His hand was hurt, his arms covered in angry red slices where glass had shattered against his flesh and his face was discolored with bruising. His feet dangled just off the floor. He had just woken up after several hours. A doctor sporting a split lip had explained that a weak sedative had been administered. Sandy had apologized. The doctor had shook his head. "He was upset, I understand. Marissa Cooper…she used to volunteer here, at the hospital. She was a good girl."

Ryan's eyes were glazed over and unfocused, settled in the direction of a non-descript spot on the ceiling. Kirsten clutched his hand, the one not wrapped with ace bandage, in both of hers, needing to hold him. He sat like a statue and she was tempted to place her hand on his chest like she did when Seth was a sleeping infant, just to feel the subtle movement of life. Just to be sure.

She glanced downward and was startled. There was blood crusted under his fingernails, Marissa's blood. He'd tried to save her, one last time. Horrified, Kirsten wondered how long it had been before help came. Her and Sandy had been watching the sunset by the pool. Ryan had been on the side of the road, watching Marissa die.

Sandy's phone rang shrilly in the small room and Kirsten felt Ryan jump. Sandy excused himself into the hall and Kirsten whispered.

"We'll get through this Ryan, I promise you. I love you so much sweetie." His lips twitched, Adams apple bobbed, but he made no move to speak or look at her. She forced a smile. "It's okay Ryan, take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

Sandy closed the door softly behind himself as he re-entered, pocketing his cell phone.

"Seth and Summer are still at the Roberts, he said he was going to stay there with her for now. She's…she's doing about as good as can be expected."

Kirsten observed the way Ryan's eyes fell closed at the news, the way he closed his mouth and let the air release from his nose.

"I saw the doctor in the hall," Sandy added, "he said he was on his way to see the X-rays and that we could go home soon, as long as everything is fine."

"Everything is fine", the words echoed in Kirsten's ears. Ryan's hand gripped hers.

2:03 AM

In the backseat of the car Kirsten raked her still trembling fingers through Ryan's hair and felt the puddle of hot, silent tears collecting on the leg of her pants. Occasionally she leaned down to where his head rested in her lap to whisper gently in his ear. There was no verbal response but one clenched fist clinging to the bottom hem of her blouse.

In the front seat Sandy navigated the dark roads slow and careful, glancing at them with red eyes in the rear view mirror every few seconds.

As she hummed a gentle lullaby in the back of her hoarse throat, Kirsten couldn't help but to think of the years she missed, the skinned knees she never got to bandage and the tears she never got to kiss away. That wouldn't have prepared her for this anyway, bandages and kisses would get them nowhere.

3:45 AM

Through the open door of the pool house Kirsten could see into the illuminated kitchen. She had never sat out there at night; from her spot on the edge of Ryan's bed the house glimmered like a beacon. Her thoughts quickly turned against herself. Why had she let Ryan stay out there all of those years? Why hadn't she moved him inside where he belonged? Had Ryan ever sat out there and watched them through the doors of the glowing house and felt left out?

Sandy appeared in the kitchen. He leaned heavy on the counter and stared into a glass of water. She watched him bring a hand to his mouth, to muffle a sob. Maybe it was from pain, maybe relief. If her husband was feeling anything like her, it was a sickening combination of both.

The bathroom door creaked open and she turned to watch Ryan drag himself across the room in sweat pants and a t-shirt. He fell onto the bed beside her, curling up on one side. She reached out again to stroke his hair.

"I'm right here honey," she promised. Ryan was always wary of promises she remembered. Didn't even get mad if you broke them, just kind of expected it. "Do you want to try to get some sleep?"

He remained cationic.

"Seth and you…" she trailed off because she didn't really know what she was saying, what she wanted to say. "I wish I could protect you from this," she whispered, "I would do anything to make it hurt less."

He rolled over slightly until he was staring up at her.

"Ryan it's okay to cry."

The last word slipped from her lips and he erupted with a release of strangled noises and salty tears cascading down his bruised cheeks. She gathered him into her arms and even though he wasn't little, was heavy and awkward to rock, he felt small. Tiny and young and so much still a child in her arms.

The pinch of joy that swelled in her heart with the words "please make it stop mom," was quickly swallowed by the context of the plea.

4:30 AM

As Ryan finally slept from sheer exhaustion, tears sticky on his eyelashes, Kirsten stared into the kitchen. It was almost like watching a TV program. Sandy was now puttering about, making phone calls, doing things Julie would be too upset to even think about. Kirsten loved him more than she ever had as she watched him.

And then Seth appeared at the threshold of the room like a ghost, his eyes puffy and his hands hanging awkwardly by his sides. He said something, his eyes drifted through the glass doors to the pool house. And then Sandy was enveloping him in a hug. Seth burrowed his face into his father's shoulder, hands clutching desperately at his shirtsleeves and his back shook with sobs. She watched Sandy guide him out of the room, towards the stairs she assumed.

Ryan stirred in her lap, moaning painfully in the back of his throat.

Kirsten thought of her broken boys and tasted tears on her lips.

6:05 AM

The sun was too bright, painful as they crossed the concrete together. Ryan needed food in his stomach so he could take his painkillers. He was holding her hand; his face was smudged with tears and sleep lines. He had woken with a scream, startling her just as her eyes were finally closing. Kirsten opened the door and let him go first. Seth and Sandy were sitting mutely at the table, looking almost identical as they stared into bowls of cereal.

Seth looked up and flung himself at Ryan, arms tight around the other boy's shoulders. Ryan kept his arms slack at his side but Kirsten watched him close his eyes, lean in slightly to his brother's hold. Seth stumbled out of the hug and whimpered, swiping at his tears with the palms of his hands.

"How's Summer?" Ryan's voice sounded so strange and foreign and startled them all. He glanced towards the ground as he waited for an answer.

"A mess," Seth answered honestly, "Dr. Roberts gave her something… something to make her sleep for a while last night. I'm gonna…I'm gonna go back soon. She should be waking up. I wanna be there when she wakes up. Do you want to come?" Seth questioned with hesitance, "She'd like to see you. She was worried about you last night. We were."

When Ryan didn't answer Kirsten did for him.

"Ryan's not ready for that honey. We just came in so he could get some food in his stomach and take his painkillers. Are you going to drive to Summer's? You're still half asleep."

"I'll take him," Sandy offered, "I've been downing black coffees for an hour."

Seth wasn't listening to them. He was staring at Ryan with broken realization.

"This isn't your fault," Seth nearly shouted, almost angry as he took a step towards the other boy, "Ryan!" the forceful, direct tone in his voice made Kirsten and Sandy jump. Ryan slowly forced his eyes upward to meet his brother's. "Nobody blames you man."

Ryan didn't ingest the words and hunched his shoulders.

"Tell Summer I'm sorry."

6:15 AM

The Range Rover disappeared down the driveway and Kirsten shut the front door, hurrying back to the kitchen where Ryan was waiting. He was on the sofa, staring at the black screen of the television.

"Seth's right," she sat beside him, "What happened is to be blamed on that other boy, that Volchok character, and chance, and circumstance. You can blame this on a million things Ryan, but do not blame yourself."

"I'm going to go lie down," he answered simply, "Can you bring me something out to my room?"

Kirsten sighed.

"Of course. I'll make you something hot."

He stood and crossed the room, back into the harsh daylight.

6:36 AM

A pile of scrambled eggs and a smeared bagel balanced on the plate that she carried into the pool house. The bottle of painkillers shook in her pocket. The bed was empty.

"Ryan?" she placed the plate down on the end table.

The bathroom was vacant. With a growing worry that Kirsten didn't think she could handle she crossed the room. She knew what to look for; he'd done this enough times before. The drawers were half empty. A black duffle bag was missing from its normal spot on top of the clothes organizer. In the small line of shoes against the wall a gaping hole stood where black combat boots once had. No hoodie, no cell phone. Just hours before there had been a stack of photos Seth had just printed sitting on top of the Maroon yearbook. It was all missing.

Everything was gone and for the first time in a long time, she didn't know if she'd be able to get it back.

Numbly she lowered herself to the edge of the bed and stared through the glass walls. She could make out the tip of what had once been the Cooper home, where Marissa had been the girl next door and Ryan had fallen in love with her.

For what felt like the second time too many in one life, Kirsten Cohen clutched her vanished son's sheets and let herself sob into them.