AN: Hello everyone! Welcome to my new story! It's a *drum roll* Clowen story. So, all of you Clowen fans, this one is for you. It'll have a lot of other people in here. There will be appearances from Drew, Bianca, Dallas, Adam, and plenty more. I hope you all enjoy this one. I really like it.

A little information about the two: Owen is 25 whereas Clare is 24. Clare never went to Degrassi nor did she ever live in Canada. Ummm... everything else will be addressed either in this chapter or later chapters.

Review and Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Stephen Stohn owns Degrassi.

Chapter One: Arrogance Meets Modesty

(Owen)

"What do you mean "cool it?"?" I snap at Aron, my agent.

"Owen, you're in the papers, again. You got into a fight with that Bieber kid."

"In my defense, he was asking for it. That kid has a lot of fuckin' mouth!"

Aron pinches the bridge of his nose as he sighs heavily. He closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly. When he opens his eyes, he reaches on the table and slams the magazine down in front of me. I made the cover page and not in a good.

"Do you know what they're saying about you, Owen? They're saying you're a selfish, cocky bastard. They're saying you're the most shallow, hated person in Hollywood. No one wants to hire you for a got damn movie! You haven't been asked to do a movie in months, Owen…months! I'm thinking about just firing your sorry ass!"

My jaw clenches tightly as Aron goes on about me. He tells me the only reason he won't fire me is because he believes in me. He says I'm a great actor, but I need to lose the temper and stay out of the papers for a while.

I nod my head although I am still pissed off. I know I'm not the best person in the world, but I'm not the worse either. Yeah, I beat up that Bieber kid, and yes, I got a DUI ticket three days before that. I also got caught smoking weed with a few of my friends behind a set two months prior to. Those damn paparazzi catch every fucking thing!

"Go home, kid," Aron tells me with a tired sigh. "Go cool off and stay low for a while; just until I clear your name. Got it?"

"Got it," I say curtly as I get up and storm out of his office. I walk down the halls and straight to the elevator.

I press the downward button and wait for the doors to open before I walk in and press the first floor button. Once the elevator stops at the lobby, I get off and go outside. I walk to the valet, give him my ticket and he goes to fetch my car. When I see my Mercedes-Benz pull up in front of me a few seconds later, I sigh. The valet gets out of the car and I give him a tip. He thanks me and I give him a small nod before hopping inside my car and speeding off.

I decide to take the highway home. While driving, I see something that catches my eye. A female, who looks like she's roughly around my age, is standing on the corner. Her clothes are tattered and dirty. Her skin is covered in dirt along with her short, curly hair. My eyes narrow on the sign that she's holding in her trembling hands which reads: Homeless and pregnant. Please help.

I put my car in a halt, ignoring the honks and protests I'm getting. Even though this car is my baby, I open the door to let the poor girl in. She's going to stink up my car and get it dirty, but suddenly I don't care. I want to do something nice for once and maybe this can get me in thousands of movies. Maybe this can get me on the front page of the paper. This can change what people think about me.

The timid woman looks at me with wide eyes. I motion for her to hurry up; my patience is quickly thinning. She drops the sign on the ground and runs to the car. I almost gag at the foul stench coming from her. She closes the door behind her just as I roll the windows down.

"Thanks for helping me out," she says quietly while putting her seatbelt on.

I don't respond, so she continues.

"Y—You're not going to kill me are you?" fear rises in her voice.

"No, I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to help you out."

"Why?"

"Do you want the help or not lady?" I snap.

Her mouth clamps shut. She stares out the window and folds her arms across her chest. The ride to my house is silent. When we reach our destination, she doesn't even seem fazed by my house. She just hums to herself and steps out of the car. Sighing, I step out of the car and make a mental note to get my car cleaned.

The homeless girl follows behind me as we walk down the pathway and to the porch of my house. I grab my keys out of my pocket and unlock the door. I step aside and let her step in. As soon as she takes a step in the house, my Siberian husky, Hunter, comes towards her. He doesn't bark at her, nor does he try to attack her. He simply jumps on her and licks her. He wags his tail excitedly.

Homeless girl smiles and starts to play with Hunter. She scratches behind his ear, getting him excited until I get fed up.

"Hunter," I snap, "go in your room."

Hunter gives me a solemn look before running off.

"Owen Milligan; who would have ever thought I'd be in the house of Owen Milligan," she says softly but she's still unfazed. Why?

"You know who I am?" I ask in shock. I must be really famous if homeless people know who I am.

"I don't live under a rock, Owen. I haven't been homeless all my life and besides, you're in every paper. You get talked about more than Justin Bieber…and he gets talked about a lot."

"Yeah, well, alright," I say, growing agitated. "I'm going to call my stylist and have her bring you some clothes. You can take a shower upstairs and I can schedule you an appointment so we can get you clean and see about the baby."

"Thank you," she says.

"Since you seem to know my name, I think it's only fair you tell me yours."

"Clare," she replies with a sad smile before walking towards the steps.

I watch as she disappears up them before taking out my phone to call my stylist, Lana. After I get off the phone with her, I schedule an appointment for Clare. To pass time, I go in the kitchen and decide to make the two of us a meal. I make us a grilled chicken salad with breadsticks. It was the quickest thing I could prepare in so little time.

"Hey, I didn't know if the clothes were here yet so I borrowed your jersey and a pair of your boxers. I hope you don't mind."

I turn around to see Clare standing in front of me wearing my Ice Hounds jersey. Her hair is still damped and it's clinging to her porcelain, skinned face. Her bright, blue eyes no longer look dull. She doesn't look like the woman I just picked up from the highway—she look's far from it. She looks absolutely gorgeous…stunning.

I find the words to say, "N—No, I don't mind at all."

"Okay, cool," she smiles.

"I made lunch: grilled chicken salad with bread sticks. If you want something to drink, I have water, lemonade, orange juice, and cranberry juice."

"I'll take water, please," she responds.

"Water coming right up," I tell her.

I turn around and open the refrigerator. I reach inside and grab the pitcher filled with water. I sit it on the counter and turn around to walk to the cabinet. I open it and grab two glasses. I pour Clare and myself some water. I put the pitcher back into the refrigerator.

While I'm doing that, I ask Clare to grab us both a plate. She complies and sets the plates on the counter. Together, we fix our plates in silence. Afterwards, we walk to the dining room and sit down at the table.

"So," I start off, "what made you this way, if you don't mind me asking?"

Clare looks at me with sad, teary eyes. A tear slowly rolls down her cheek and she quickly wipes it away. Sighing, she picks up her fork and dig into her food.

"I guess you do mind," I say curtly.

"It's none of your business!" she snaps.

"It is my business if you're going to be staying here. How do I know if you're not just someone who's using me and take my money? How do I know if you're just trying to get close to me, because of my fame?"

"I'm not," she whimpers. "I…I just had a lot going on."

"Like what?" I press.

Clare sighs heavily. "Two months ago, my ex-fiancé died in a car accident. It…it was a terrible, stormy weather and he was on his way to see me. He had just gotten back from working on a play in New York. I told him to hurry back, because I had some…exciting news to tell him." She pauses to take a deep, trembling breath. "I waited for three hours; no texts, no calls—nothing. I kept calling him, but it kept sending me to voicemail. I began to grow worried."

My heart crumbles as I think about what Clare is going to say next. I had no idea she had gone through this and all while she is pregnant. I guess I should have listened to my mother: never judge a book by its cover. Suddenly, I feel like the biggest jackass in the world.

My first thought was that she had made some bad decisions and it put her out on the streets. My second thought was that she got put out. I hadn't thought about life throwing something unexpected at her and it became too much to handle.

"You don't have to continue, Clare. I had no idea—"

She cuts me off to continue as if she doesn't hear what I said. "I got a knock at the door at 12 in the morning. There was a police officer standing there. He…he asked me did Elijah Goldsworthy live here and I told him yes. My heart was racing so much and my nerves began to go all over the place. The officer asked me was Eli's family here and I told him that I was his fiancée. The officer told me, in these exact words: Ma'am, I'm so sorry to be the one to tell you this, but your fiancé, Elijah Goldsworthy is dead.

I was so devastated. My fiancé was dead and on the day I was going to tell him I was pregnant," she cried. "I—I got fired from my job, because I started missing work. I couldn't find myself to leave the house. I didn't want to go outside; I wanted to stay in and look at everything that reminded me of Eli. Soon after, bills started piling up, and I ended up losing my house."

Clare covers her trembling hands on her mouth to prevent her from crying out. Her cries are muffled. I drop my fork on my plate, hearing a clatter sound follow behind it. I don't know how to really comfort anyone, so I reach over the table to pat Clare's hand. She looks over at me in confusion and pain. I quickly take my hand off hers and look down awkwardly at my plate.

The doorbell rings and I couldn't be more relieved. I need to get away from this depressing atmosphere. I shoot Clare a sympathetic look before getting up from the table and walking to the door. I open it and see Lana standing there with a few bags of clothes.

"What girl do you have in your home now, Owen?" she asks with an exasperated sigh.

"Hush, Lana, it's not like that. This girl is…different. For once, I'm doing something nice in life."

"By nice you mean you're not going to screw her? Wow, she must be special. Who's the lucky lady?"

"A homeless girl I found on the streets. She's pregnant and needs a place to stay."

Lana stares at me in disbelief. Her eyes are popping out of her head and her red, coated lips are parted open. I take the bags from her hands and slowly close the door in her face. I call out for Clare to come here and soon after, I hear a fork clatter against the plate. I hear the chair move and feet shuffling. Clare is standing in front of me, staring at the bags in my hand.

"I hope you like these," I tell her while handing her the bag of clothes. "I didn't have much information to give my stylist, so I told her to surprise me."

Clare smiles genuinely at me. "Thanks, Owen." She walks towards the steps and takes a couple of steps up them. She stops and turns around, looking me in the eyes. "I don't believe what people say about you."

Before I could ask her what she means, Clare quickly ascends up the steps, leaving me alone with my wondering thoughts. I exhale heavily as I take a seat on the sofa. This has been one hell of a day. I was just getting yelled at by my agent; he said I was arrogant and the most hated person in Hollywood. Now, I'm taking in a homeless, pregnant woman. So much happened in one fucking day!

.

.

.

(Clare)

I go into the guestroom and close the door behind me. I strip out of Owen's clothes and rummage through the bags. There are bras, panties, socks, and clothes in there. I smile as I look at all the things in there. I decide to wear a white bra with a pair of cotton panties for undergarments. I rummage through the bags a little more and decide to wear something comfortable: a blue, white, and black striped maxi dress. I slip the dress on, loving how the soft fabric feels on my body.

I walk to the full length mirror and give myself a little twirl. I should be happy that I'm finally off the streets, but I can't. I miss Eli. The day I was going to tell him that I was pregnant, with his first child, he died.

I didn't even want to go to his funeral. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I shut out both of our parents. I didn't want them to confirm it; I didn't want them to tell me that my Eli was gone and wasn't coming back. I couldn't handle it…knowing that he was taking from me the very day I was going to share wonderful news with him.

I hadn't realized I was crying until I felt a tear drop sliding on my chin. With the back of my hand, I wiped it away. I sniffle slightly and bring myself to walk to the door. I place my hand on the doorknob and get ready to open it, but I can't.

Owen Milligan is going to take care of me. He's going to nurse me and help me back on my feet. I just don't understand why. I hear so much about him; people say he's arrogant and he's the most selfish guy on earth. I hear that he wouldn't even go see one of his biggest fans. I also heard that someone wrote a long, adorable letter—in full detail—asking if he could take them to prom. Owen laughed at it on Twitter, saying those days were done for him and he would not take her to prom.

So why was he helping me out? Sure, I didn't mind, because it was nice to stop sleeping underneath the highways. It was great to get out of those filthy clothes and to, for once in a while, take a nice, relaxing shower. Tomorrow, he's taking me to a doctor's appointment. I know it's too soon to tell what sex it's going to be, but at least I can know if I'm healthy and know a little of something about the baby.

I take a deep breath and stop listening with my inner thoughts. I twist the doorknob and take a deep breath. I leave the door slightly opened behind me as I step into the hallway and walk towards the steps. Once I reach the steps, I place my hand on the rail and walk down the steps.

I go into the living room and see Owen is murmuring on the phone.

"Well, what the fuck am I going to do? No, I don't give a damn. Look, have Jason at my fuckin' door tomorrow around 1 p.m. Oh, he doesn't want to do it?" I can hear a low growl escape his lips. "Tell him his sorry ass his fired! No, I do not care about him having a fuckin' family to feed. He should have thought of that when he decided to turn down the offer. Of fuckin' well; just have someone at my door tomorrow at 1 p.m. Not a got damn minute later."

Owen angrily hangs up the phone, muttering under his breath. I don't even have to make my presence known. As soon as he turns around, he sees me standing there. His dark, murderous eyes roam my body for a second before they land on my frightened eyes.

So, why did I accept this, again? I know who Owen Milligan is. He has the worst freaking temper known. He can kill someone just by giving them a murderous glare. Almost everyone in Hollywood hates to work with him. They say his attitude alone makes him the most hated person known.

"How much did you hear?" he asks me in a low tone. When I don't respond, he gets louder. "How much did you fuckin' hear?"

"N—Not a lot," I whimper as my body trembles along with the words coming from my mouth. "I just heard you saying you're f…you're firing someone named Jason."

Owen nods his head and motions for me to leave. I turn on my heels and scurry away. I run up the steps and I walk past Hunter's room. When he spots me, he jumps up and run towards me. I squat down and let him run into my open arms. Hunter wags his tail eagerly and starts to lick my face. I giggle when he rolls on his back, begging for his belly to get scratched. I graze my nails across his belly, hearing him grunt in response.

Hunter is a copper color dog with a white belly. His eyes are brown and welcoming. He seems very energetic and friendly. I know he's the type of dog that is loyal and will do anything for his owner, also.

Hunter rolls back over, ignoring the fact I had my hand on his belly. He sprawls out on the floor and lets out a loud, heavy sigh. I grin at Hunter as I rub my fingers through his soft fur.

"You're such a cute doggie," I tell him. "You seem to be the only person I have right now—well, besides the baby inside of me."

I sigh, knowing that I should be, at least, a little grateful for what I have. I could be out on the streets still and not properly taking care of myself or the baby. I could be somewhere dead; being on the streets for two months has been harsh.

I just can't seem to find the good in this. Owen is giving me a place to lay my head, food for myself and my baby; he's given my clothes and other things. All these things are wonderful, but there doesn't seem to be any sincerity behind it. It just seems like he's doing it just because.

"Don't worry," I whisper to my unborn child as I subconsciously start to rub my belly, "mommy will get us through this soon…I promise."

.

.

.

The rain smacked against the windows. The lights in the house were out; there was some part of me that found the storm a little…comforting. I would watch as the lightening strike in the sky right after the thunder bellowed.

Tonight was a special night. Eli was coming home from New York. I haven't seen him in a couple of weeks and I had missed him. Right before he left, we made sweet, passionate love. It was our way of saying goodbye for a while. When he called to tell me he was on his way home, I told him I had something wonderful to tell him.

I remember his exact words. "I can't wait to see you, my muse. I'd love to hear the wonderful news you have for me. Make sure you make your famous lasagna for me."

I giggled. "Eli, it's 9 at night. I'm you lasagna this late."

"That's what you would say if you didn't want my kisses and hugs when I get back."

We both shared a wholehearted laugh.

"Hurry up," I whined. "I really have something to tell you."

"I will come as quick as possible."

We said "I love you" to each other before hanging up. I let out a happy sigh as I continued to watch the thunderstorm. I waited patiently for Eli to come, but he didn't show. I began to grow anxious…that anxious grew into worry and afterwards, I was downright petrified.

The storm had gotten worse by the minute. The hard pellets of rain were pouring down rapidly. It was starting to become impossible for people to drive. My fear for Eli being out there began to grow by the second. I called him and left thousands of messages, but he never answered. He never returned my calls.

I panicked so much, wondering where the hell Eli was. I wanted to know if he was okay, but I had no way to get in touch with him. At 12 o'clock, there was a knock at the door. Curiosity crept on me as I went to the door. My heart was pounding so loud that it was only sound I could hear through my ears. I gulped nervously as I went to the door. I didn't peek out the window to see who it was. I simply unlocked the door and yanked it open, hoping to fling my body into the arms of my fiancé. Unfortunately, that was not going to happen.

The officer standing at my door was about 6'5 with broad shoulders. He had a bald head and a clean shaven face. His face had sympathy written all over it. Now, my heart was racing more. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't believe it.

"Good morning ma'am; my name is Officer Hale. Does an Elijah Goldsworthy live here?"

I swallowed hard. "Y—Yes."

"Does his family live here?"

"I'm his fiancée."

Officer Hale took a deep, heavy breath. "Ma'am, I'm so sorry to be the one to tell you this, but your fiancé, Elijah Goldsworthy is dead."

His mouth was moving, but no words were coming out. All I could hear his say was that Eli was dead. My heart crumpled and I soon felt my legs give out on me. I dropped to the floor, screaming and crying. I didn't want for it to be true. I didn't want for Eli to be taking from me.

"Ma'am," Hale continued, "it appears that Mr. Goldsworthy was caught in the bad storm. Maybe the roads were too slippery and it caused his tires to slide across the roads. His car swerved and crashed into a tree. Ms.…" Officer Hale dragged on, waiting for me to tell him my name.

"Clare," I say hoarsely, "call me Clare."

"Clare, a tree trunk crushed his chest. From what I'm hearing, he was killed instantly. He didn't feel any pain when he…" his voice trailed off.

"He didn't feel any pain?" I repeated. "But I feel pain! Eli is gone and I'm going to be left alone to raise our baby together. This is all my fault. I…I shouldn't have told him to hurry. I was just so excited to tell him that I'm pregnant with our first child."

"Clare, calm down," Officer Hale said calmly as he touched my shoulder. "I need to take you to identify the body…just to make sure."

I nodded my head numbly. I hadn't wanted to go, but I know I needed to. My heart raced rapidly as we got climbed into the car. When Hale drove off, I felt tears prick the corner of my eyes. My palms started to sweat and my body started to tremble. Although it was warm outside, my body felt cold and clammy. My mouth and lips felt dry. I couldn't process the fact that my Eli was gone…