Author's Note: This is an experiment. It's an idea that started out in my head at night while I battled insomnia, which might or might not tell you its strength. It's an idea, however, that recurs and I managed to work out an interesting plotline once with it. Unfortunately, I'm not sure whether it'll sink or swim and there's where you guys come in. If I get enough positive feedback, I'll see what I can work with here. If I don't, then down it goes. No harm done.

Jimmy Neutron does not belong to me.

Possibility

Chapter One: Dummy for Hire

James Isaac Neutron cradled his head in his hands, stifled a sob, and glanced at his mother. Dressed in a formal black tuxedo, he listened to the minister drone on irrelevantly while he berated himself. Carl and Sheen fidgeted, the latter tugging his tight necktie nervously. Cindy stared at the ground expressionlessly, but he knew what she thought. He knew what everyone thought, what plagued him in his dreams and waking life ever since that moment. They might not dare speak it aloud, but he hung his head in shame. He was many things; son, inventor, egotistical jerk occasionally, and, now, he could add 'murderer' to the list.

"Giving up science?" his mother inquired quizzically, raising an eyebrow. "I know it's been hard on you since Hugh died-"

He yearned to scream that claiming this insulted him by downplaying its impact, but he kept silent. Most of the time, he glued his mouth shut, disregarding comfort or, worse yet, the stony hush accompanying his classmates when he appeared. He loathed it, but, simultaneously, accepted their scorn. He deserved it. He deserved all of it, particularly because he blamed himself so completely, so wholly, nothing could change his mind. Foolish, selfish actions killed his father and despite people calling it an accident, he knew it wasn't.

Tossing his backpack on the table, he nodded glumly and hoped she'd stop asking questions. Questions inevitably led to painful answers and uncovering parts he longed to clutch to himself, wounded and bleeding terribly. Cindy sometimes looked at him as if she understood, but how could she? She, who used to gloat about how poorly his inventions were constructed and how flimsy they were. She who used to tease him and berate him now glanced at him sadly, turning away before long. That hurt as much as everything else did- the girl he liked turning her back on him.

"You've said you wished I wasn't such a 'little genius'," he muttered by way of an argument, glanced at the refrigerator, decided he wasn't hungry, and, hefting his bag, pivoted to leave. She darted across the clean kitchen floor and narrowed her eyes. Fire burned and, for a second, he blinked, pinned like a deer in the headlights. Despite her trembling, she stood firm and determinedly.

"You can't stop me, Mom. Don't even try. I'm boarding up the lab."

He spun on his heel, but she placed a stern but firm hand on his shoulder. Sighing exasperatedly, he glanced up and she soundlessly shook her head. Disappointment welled in her eyes, along with the faint glimmers of tears, but the latter vanished swiftly. Good. He hated to see her cry and he'd been the cause of her misery too often lately. Every time she sobbed, it tore another hole in his heart. Yes, she'd hid her emotions well, but he heard the whimpers at night when she slept in that big, half-empty bed that still carried his scent. Every punctuating wail started the familiar train. Murderer. Assassin. Selfish prig. Patricide.

"I'm putting my foot down, Jimmy. You've been moody and secretive as it is. I won't let you throw away your future," she replied coolly and, cold jade eyes locking onto hers, he snapped haughtily. The response astounded her.

"I already did when I killed Dad."

Footsteps retreating into the distance, he headed off to grab a board, nails, and hammer in the hopes of blocking out the haunting past.

He worked tirelessly, halting only when his body demanded rest, and even then succumbing to a minute delay before slamming the hammer down again. Like a dull throb, the hammer struck not only the nails, but his heart. He shut off his past, present, and possible future by removing himself from science, but he assured himself it must be done. What if his next experiment left him an orphan? What if it hurt someone else he cared about? No, his intellect made him a menace to society and if necessity dictated he shut himself off, then he would. To salvage whatever he had left.

"Jimmy?" A voice, one which had the power to grate and uplift simultaneously, now only drove his mental guard further up. He'd not spoken to Cindy Vortex since the funeral and then, words were scarce and exchanged stiffly. Two months had passed and he figured she had moved on with her life. Any relationship they might have pursued had no chance anyway, considering what he had become.

He paid her no mind and brainlessly prevented another travesty. Hadn't Retroville complained his inventions ruined their lives? Hadn't his 'big brain' constructed more problems than it solved? And those it solved, were they not his fault to start? Retroville's citizens could live unencumbered by 'science'. The nail bent and, trying to force it straight, he nearly struck his thumb, but Cindy's hand atop his stopped him.

The softness enticed, but he had other business here. Wrenching his hand away, he proceeded to board the hair scanner when a sharp blow to the head knocked him sideways into the ground. Lording over him and holding his hammer, Cindy gave him an inscrutable look. Jimmy gulped- he'd forgotten she could pack a punch. The whole right side of his head throbbed where her fist impacted.

"So you're just going to give up?" she screeched and, rising unsteadily to his feet, he held out his hand. She examined him and the tool, and, without so much as a warning, chucked it high into a nearby tree. Dully, he peered at its new location, but no fight or argument registered. They'd just begun and he'd already conceded defeat.

"Where's Goddard?"

Saying nothing, he stared at his shoes, ripped because, in a fit of rage, he'd yanked the Neutron symbol off. In fact, today he wore a plain black t-shirt, so out of character it screamed. His wrist, normally adorning Goddard's controls, was naked. Why hadn't she noticed that before? Moreover, why hadn't she noticed Goddard's absence? He'd been missing since Hugh's funeral. Disappeared or destroyed; that was what befell Jimmy's inventions or discoveries.

Sighing exasperatedly, she tried to picture what ran through his mind. Unfortunately, no one other than Jimmy himself, Sheen, Carl, and Judy knew exactly how Hugh died and though Sheen and Carl had sworn themselves silent, the wide berth both gave him troubled her. Sheen muttered 'murderer' under his breath, Libby would ask him to clarify, and he'd deny he said anything. She refused to believe the worst, however. Unless she heard it from Jimmy's ears, she wasn't going to accept anything as fact.

"It's almost dinnertime," Jimmy muttered. "Go eat. Leave me."

Digging her heels into the soil like a stubborn horse, she shook her head and glared at him. The glare faded, nonetheless- she'd no idea why he behaved like this and could not hold it against him. She'd never made any overt affectionate gestures before, but he was in dire need of someone to reach out to. Swallowing hard, she laid a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off and soundlessly escaped into the house.

"James Isaac Neutron, eat your dinner!" Mrs. Neutron ordered shrilly; her son poked his sweet potato listlessly, lifted the fork to his mouth for one bite, and placed it aside. She frowned disapprovingly, coaxing him to masticate a healthy amount. His stomach somersaulted, rebelling against any intruders and distantly, the anguished yips of a caged mechanical dog reached their ears. Goddard…

To prevent the dreadful stillness stealing over the house, she had opened all the windows. Sounds of children at play (he remembered his own brief childhood as if from another lifetime) combined with the smells of cooking. It was, after all, dinner time. The scent of a freshly baked pie brought tears to Judy's eyes and, disgusted with himself, Jimmy pushed the remnants away. The sight of his mother in this state reduced his minimal appetite to non-existent. He wished he hadn't eaten anything at all.

Wordlessly, he slid out of the booth, swallowed hard, and darted upstairs. In his room, he heard nothing save Goddard and his guilty conscience.

He ought to have disassembled him. He ought to have turned his back on science like he vowed months earlier and disassociated himself completely. Yet loath though he was to admit it, science was like breathing to him. He could no more distance himself than tear out his lungs. Goddard belonged to the past, yes, but he was the only friend he had. He let no one else close to him.

Goddard's metallic eyes shone intelligently and he understood the question within. The same question he faced whenever he returned to work on a secret invention or visited his lab. When will you let me out? When will you be free to be yourself? When will you stop lying and denying your identity?

"Cindy…" he sighed, flinging himself on his loathsome rocket sheets. Goddard, forever fixated in his stasis field, merely stared at him. He contemplated liberating him and receiving comfort, albeit mechanic, but decided against it. He didn't deserve it.

Why was it looking at him reminded him of Cindy? Like his scientific life, he attempted to bury his feelings for her beneath mental walls and self hatred. He pushed her away, like everyone else. He wished rejecting her felt like the others, but a voice whispered, "She's not like the others…she cares…"

The phone rang shrilly, jerking him out a reverie, and he glared at the number. Let it ring unabated. Cindy had Libby, and, reportedly, Nick as well. His puzzle piece belonged to another, erroneous version, not hers. She had her best friend and a male admirer; he was nothing important. Nonetheless, the ringing continued until, irritated, he yanked the cord out of the wall. Silence thundered and Goddard shook his head morosely.

"No, boy. She means nothing to me."

A green screen showed, operating despite the field. It read, "Or maybe she means everything."

"Honestly, Cindy, I don't know why you bother," Libby said, half listening to her friend and half listening to her new CD. They'd been over this a thousand times- she saw no reason why she ought to give her more attention. More times than she cared to count, their conversation returned to him.

Unfortunately, entirely too many things reminded Cindy of him and each one of them she'd discussed endlessly. She wanted to snap, 'you have Nick interested in you now and Jimmy's apparently lost contact with the rest of the human race, so give it up, girlfriend!' But she didn't because (a), it wasn't tactful and (b), she valued their friendship too much to admit she partially agreed with their opinions. Everyone else had given up on Jimmy, but Cindy held firm. It was enough to drive her crazy.

"Just let it go. He's nothing."

"No, he's not," Cindy replied quietly, surprising herself with her vehemence. "He's everything…and he needs me."

"Whatever," Libby answered and muttered, "You poor deluded girl."