Disclaimer: I own nothing, I claim nothing, it all belongs to the Schwartz and his minions and masters.

Thanks again, to Connell for her awesome beta work, and to everyone who listened to me whine incessantly about this story. This takes place at some point before "The Return of The Nana," thus not complicating ugly family dynamics further.

For Zybysko.

The Reno

Summer was half-asleep when her cell phone rang. At first she wasn't going to answer it, assuming that it was Cohen calling from his "suite" in L.A., where he and Zach were once again being feted by the grown-up version of emo geeks, but it wasn't the familiar opening notes of "A Movie Script Ending."

In fact, as it rang for the second time, she didn't really recognize the song at all. This was not entirely a surprise, as she had made the mistake of letting Seth fool with her settings one night, and it wasn't until her phone started playing Margaritaville when Marissa called in the middle of her appointment with Suky that she realized he'd reprogrammed all her ringtones, but she thought she'd at least heard most of the damage he'd done.

With a sigh, she finally picked it up before it went to voicemail.

"This had better be you, Cohen. And you'd better have a good excuse."

"Um, Summer?" The voice was soft and hesitant, and for a moment Summer didn't recognize it.

"Ryan! What's wrong with Marissa? Or is it Cohen?"

Except for that one night after the boys had returned to Newport when Ryan had showed up unannounced to plead Seth's case, Summer had never been alone with him. And he never called her. There had to be something wrong.

"It's, um . . . Marissa didn't call you?" he asked and, again, there was something off in his voice.

"No. What's going on?" she demanded, now wide awake. In fact, the call-waiting button was now buzzing in her ear, but she ignored it. With Ryan, she might not get a lot of information, but at least it would be accurate. With Marissa, even a newly-sober Marissa, you could never know.

She heard a soft intake of breath that was almost, but not-quite, a sigh.

"Every- Everyone's fine. Marissa's fine. It's just . . . I need a favor. A big one."

"Sure, Chino, anything. You know that. But where's Coop?"

She sat up as she was talking to him, absently glancing at her alarm clock – noting that it was already after midnight.

"She's visiting Caitlin for the weekend, and I don't know who else . . . Trey can't know -- the Cohens can't know . . . "

She had never heard him sound less coherent before. She hopped out of bed on instinct and began to put together a stealth sneaking-out-of-the-house ensemble.

"Know what? What's going on?"

There was that almost-sigh again, even as her call-waiting began buzzing anew.

"I need a ride. Or a car. Whatever. I need to get to Reno by morning," he said, all in a rush.

"Reno, Nevada?" she said, more than a little surprised.

"Yeah."

That was all. She was struck, not for the first time, by just how different Seth and Ryan were. She would have been on the phone for half-an-hour with Seth just getting an answer to that question alone.

"Can I ask why?" she said, as she shimmied out of her nightclothes and into a pair of low-key jeans and a sweater, casting about for her one pair of flats.

"Seth's got the Rover in LA with Zach. Kirsten and Sandy are out for the night. I can't take Marissa's car without either Julie or Caleb finding out about it. And I can't rent a car, I'm not old enough," he said succinctly.

That was not exactly what she had been asking, but that was, apparently, all of the information that Ryan was prepared to share.

"All right, I'll be there in about twenty minutes."

This time, there was a distinct sigh – of relief – before Ryan spoke again.

"I – Thanks, Summer. I really appreciate this."

"You're welcome," she said easily, then hung up the phone, still hunting for shoes.

She was not very surprised to find four separate, increasingly frantic, messages from Marissa waiting for her.

"Coop . . . "

"Oh, thank God, Sum! I've been trying to get you . . ."

"Sorry. Ryan was on the other line."

"Oh. So you know then? I'm so sorry, but I couldn't get away. Caitlin and I are at Grandma's, and it's the only weekend she's home from school. She went ballistic."

"I don't know anything! Coop, what's going on? Why Reno, for God's sake? And am I supposed to be telling Cohen anything about this?"

She almost crowed in triumph when she located her shoes, talking all the while.

"Absolutely don't tell Seth anything. Not unless Ryan tells you to," Marissa answered quickly, then paused. "Um, the rest of it? He needs . . . well, Dawn called."

"As in, Dawn, the drunken mother from Vegas Night? Dawn-who-abandoned-her-sons Dawn? What the hell?"

Summer realized that this was not, perhaps, the most rational response, but she had very little patience for mothers who could not be bothered with their own children. Much like her own.

Marissa interrupted her before she could continue her rant.

"She's his mother, Sum. She's in some kind of trouble, I don't know. But he's going, one way or another, and I don't think it's a good idea for him to go alone. He was going to take the bus, but I convinced him you'd be faster."

"Which I will. I don't mind, but . . . is she really worth all this drama?"

Marissa sighed, softly.

"Ryan thinks she is."

Summer snorted, but she couldn't disagree. She found her gym bag in the corner, left over from her workout at Cardio Bar yesterday, and started filling it with a change of clothes, just in case. It never hurt to be practical.

"Fine. You so owe me for this, though."

Marissa practically giggled in reply.

"Mani-pedis on me, I promise. Any day you want. Oh, and Sum?"

"I know, I know. I promise, I'll take care of him for you," Summer pledged, surprised to find that she really meant it.

Sneaking out of the house was not so much a stealth maneuver. She simply pounded on the step-monster's door and waited for a reply. Opening the door an inch, she waved her pink gym bag into the interior like a truce flag.

"That was Marissa. I'm headed to Casa Coop for the night. If you need me, I'll be on the cell."

Julie had stopped answering the phone at the Coopers' back when it was still the Coopers', and not the Cooper-Nichols', back when Marissa's family was still intact and Mr. Cooper was hiding from the Feds. She'd never really gotten back into the habit, which made things like this a relative breeze. If anyone needed her, they'd have to call her cell phone no matter what, and Summer was pretty sure the step-monster didn't even have Caleb Nichols' private number.

There was a fairly inarticulate reply, but it was definitely an affirmative. Summer liked to think that she had finished with a "Be careful," there at the end, but that may have been wishful thinking.

She hopped into the Mercedes SUV her father had purchased as the "family" car, which really meant Summer's car. Both her father and the step-monster drove 2-door sports cars -- a Porche and a BMW, respectively -- and Summer had hoped for a convertible, but her father had insisted on something safe.

Safe, and gas-guzzling. She was halfway to the Cohens' before she realized that they were going to need gas, and a lot of it, before they even hit the highway. She sighed, and fiddled with the radio. Here was another difference between Ryan and Cohen. It didn't matter if the world was ending and they had twenty minutes to evacuate Newport Beach, Seth would still have insisted that she stop and load up the car with fresh CDs. She was pretty sure that Ryan wasn't going to care.

She didn't even need to pull up the driveway. He was sitting on the wall that divided the darkened Cohen house from Marissa's old place, his own backpack between his feet. He was dressed the way she almost never saw him anymore, in Dickies and a grey hoodie, with his old, black jacket thrown on top. He looked up at the sound of Summer's motor on the quiet street, and for a moment, she didn't recognize him. He raised a hand in greeting, and she was struck by his old clothes – his Chino clothes. It was as though he was girding himself for battle.

"Hey," he said, as she came to a stop in front of him.

"Hey. What's the deal with the Cohens?" she asked.

He shrugged as he came around to the passenger seat and opened the door. With a fluid motion, he tossed his bag into the backseat and climbed inside. Summer wondered why some of that athletic grace had yet to rub off on her erstwhile boyfriend.

"They're out at a Newport Living thing. I left a note. Told them that Seth called and we drove up to meet him and Zach at their hotel. Something about a party."

She nodded. Ryan was not a particularly good liar, but he was pretty good with a cover story, as long as he didn't have to tell it in person.

"And Seth? Does he know what's up?" she asked, not sure if she was supposed to know or not.

Ryan shrugged again as he twisted into his seatbelt.

"I called. Left a message -- with Zach, too. Asked them to cover. Didn't really say why. I imagine there'll be a follow-up call," he added drily.

She laughed a little despite the circumstances, then nodded again.

"Fair enough. Do you, um, know where we're going?" she asked, still hesitant. He pulled a crumpled piece of notebook paper from the pocket of his jacket.

"The Wonder Lodge," he answered shortly, reading an address off to her as she programmed the GPS.

"Okay then. Reno, here we come."

"Thanks," Ryan said quietly.