Genre – General/Angst
Format – 3rd person personal
Couplings – Nothing overt, Ryan/Marissa, Seth/Summer, mentions of Alex/Marissa and perhaps some Seth/Alex as this goes on
Warnings – angst, cynicism, slash, character death, bad language, drug use
Other – My OC fanfiction so far hasn't been my greatest work, although I do like my drabbles (check them out) and consequently this is the first longer. This works as a one-shot but if there is some interest I'll lengthen it.
I respect the decision of Josh Schwartz of starting the OC Season 4 five months after Marissa's death so only the people closest to her; Ryan, Julie and Summer, are still heavily grieving. It would have been an almost impossible task to cover everyone's grief; still, it's interesting to consider what happened in those five months after her death to people not as close to Marissa as the aforementioned three, but whose lives had been touched by her significantly. As far as this fiction is concerned, that covers Seth and Alex.
Summary – 'Seth knows it's strange, but one of the first things he does when he finds out Marissa's dead is call Alex.' Seth's grieving process; post Marissa, but concerning her. Title by Pink Floyd, but this has absolutely nothing to do with the song, I just thought it was beautiful juxtaposition. I don't even like Pink Floyd.
Comfortably Numb
Seth knows it's strange, but one of the first things he does when he finds out Marissa's dead is call Alex.
Well, that's almost a total lie, even to himself. It's about a week after she dies and he's still mourning, he guesses, although he doesn't really know, because for fuck's sake anyway, he was born and raised in Newport, he's not used to not having things, or having them and then losing them.
And so, it's about a week after Marissa's death and Ryan hasn't come out of the pool house, and Summer isn't answering, listening to or returning any of his calls, when Seth thinks about all the people who were in love with Marissa, and fuck, it's a lot, but Ryan was there and Johnny's dead and obviously Volchock was there and his parents are telling Luke's family and DJ never really counted, and what did Trey care, and presumably Oliver's still locked away in rehab or an asylum or something, so really the only one left was Alex. And Seth felt she, of all of them, had a right to know.
---
And so, it's day nine of the post-Marissa era, and Julie's practically comatose from the sleeping pills and Ryan has been staying out all night every night and Seth has no idea where he goes and he's not sure he wants to, because he looks slightly more worse for wear every time he comes back, and fuck knows where Summer is because she goes out all day too and comes back to stare at the ceiling and pretend to sleep so she doesn't have to see Seth, and hasn't said one word to anyone since the 'I'm sorry…' that changed her life left the doctors lips.
And although Seth does the groceries to free up the parental unit so Kirsten can plan the funeral for Julie, and Sandy Cohen can do what he does best; make the calls to the people who have to know because Neil's got enough on his plate with Julie and Summer and Kaitlin in the house, and although Seth tries to get people to talk, to hurt less, to stop worrying and feeling responsible they all have this look on their face which is a variant of 'Seth, for God's sake, now is not the time' and he knows he's not helping.
---
He's at a loose end, grief-wise and aid-wise, and nothing he and Captain Oats can do seems to be able to stop this extremely surreal situation spiralling further and further out of control. In a sort of tribute to Marissa he's bought a few eighths of pot (not from Kaitlin, because that she wouldn't have been impressed with) and he's smoking a spliff a day just to calm him the fuck down. He reckons it's kind of like honouring her vice with his. But it's with this wholesome, comfy, mellow bubble in his stomach he runs his long fingers over the crisp pages of the phonebook, and in its crackle he hears Marissa's hair in the wind, the impact of her shoes on the gravel of the pier, and then a scream he never heard and a sickening crack he wasn't around to witness and then an image of her eyes, wide and empty and a pool of blood around her matted hair on the tarmac road, all gross like in a horror movie, not like the serene, peaceful, white-clad body he'd seen in the hospital.
And it was K, Kahn, Kaufman, Keating, Keats, Keller, Kelly that his finger drifted over in Orange County.
---
There were 15 entries and he tried every one.
"Hi, does Alex live here?"
"No, I'm sorry, no one by that name lives here."
And finally, fuck, it's like a stupid ironic movie, as if it's been waiting, mocking him the whole time, on the fifteenth call he makes he gets it right.
"Hi, does Alex live here?"
"Yeah, she does. Who is this?"
"…Alex?"
---
There's a long pause
"Seth?" and he doesn't need to affirm, because she already knows. "I uh- I got to go…" she whispers into the receiver, and he knows this is the point at which he's got to react in order to make her stay, but somehow he doesn't and there's a click and a dialtone and a piece of hollow, useless plastic in his hand.
Fin (perhaps)
I would like to get at least 10 reviews in order to continue this, so review please : )