Hi Degrassi fandom! It's been awhile. I've had this idea in my head since writing The Long Road, because Paige and Craig struck me as more interesting than I'd originally thought. This story picks up six months after Craig left for L.A. - it assumes graduation occurred soon after and Paige went to whatever college is local. Other than that, you should be able to keep up. Enjoy!

Attention

This table has taken a turn for the worst

Rock bottom and over the edge

So. This was how failure felt.

Craig's temples throbbed furiously, as if trying to keep pace with the wheels of the Greyhound that was delivering him home. With each bump the bus encountered, the contents of his stomach turned and threatened to make an encore appearance. Riding public transportation while violently hungover hadn't been his most intelligent decision, but then again, he couldn't recall the last time he'd made a good choice.

He hoped he didn't look as bad as he felt. He'd slipped on a pair of aviator sunglasses, trying to create the big-time-star-incognito look, but he had a feeling the woman seated across from him wasn't buying it. Every time a small, pathetic groan slipped out of him, she fixed him with the most disapproving stare he'd seen since his manger (ex-manager, he reminded himself) told him that maybe he wasn't "Cut out for the business."

Craig had been in L.A. for about four months – just long enough to understand what Artie had really been saying: Pack your bags, kid, you're finished.

Six months. He couldn't believe how little time had passed since he'd dropped out of high school, waved good-bye to everyone he'd ever known, and driven off into the sunset. He'd been promised fame and fortune, the world at his feet, and what had he gotten instead?

Rejected.

And now, not only was he not famous, but he was far from fortune. Artie, despite being perhaps the least effective manager in the history of the profession, hadn't let that stop him from taking a hefty cut of the miniscule profit Craig had made himself. Add in the money they'd shelled out for (worthless) studio time, and Craig actually owed the slimy little guy another thousand dollars.

Joey had wired him the rest of his savings, and Craig had paid up, but at a high cost. With no manager, no steady gig, and no inspiration, he couldn't afford even the crappy sinkhole of an apartment he'd been renting. So he packed his bags and headed home to lick his wounds.

There was, however, a bright side. The only witness to his colossal failure was Joey. All of his friends were off at college by now, having the time of their lives, if the texts and e-mails they sent were any indication. Ellie was already a star reporter for the school paper, Jimmy had been asked to assist the basketball coach, even Spinner had found his niche and joined a tutoring program for inner-city kids. Craig was the only one of them whose life hadn't quite met his expectations.

"Hey, kid." The bus driver stuck a cigarette between his lips and nudged Craig's shoulder. "Kid."

"What? Oh, sorry." Shaking himself out of his stupor, Craig saw that they'd pulled into the station and that the other passengers had already exited. "Sorry. I'll just –"

He struggled to stand upright, ignoring the way the whole world tilted and swirled with the change. "Excuse me, it's just … my bag's up there."

The driver moved aside so he could unlock the overhead compartment. "Hey. Do I know you from somewhere?"

Craig paused, bag halfway slung onto his shoulder, guitar case gripped firmly in one hand. "Uh, no, I don't think so."

"Yeah, I do." The driver cocked his head to one side. "I saw you playing that guitar one night. You're coming from L.A., right? I live there. It was at, uh, Rocky's. The bar? On Sunset and Maple? Ah, you probably play so many places, you can't keep 'em straight."

Craig heard himself chuckling. "Yeah, something like that."

"You played pretty good, kid." He squinted at him again, as if to be sure that the scrawny, haggard-looking kid in front of him now was the same one who'd power-chorded his way through a set at his favorite bar. "Yep. Pretty good."

Craig glanced down at his shoes, imagining how it would feel is this guy's opinion actually mattered; what life would be like if there was a crowd of screaming fans waiting for him to step off a tour bus. But he knew the only face he'd recognize at the station would be Joey's, kind and just a little pitying. "Well. Thanks, man. That means a lot."

He was lying, of course. But it was good to know that, somewhere out there, someone had heard him and liked what they were listening to.

XXX

"Craig Manning."

The voice was familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. Craig turned, his camera still held at eye level, and suddenly found his lens filled with a blast from the past.

"Paige?" Her blonde hair was longer, straighter; her face free if the glittery makeup she'd always worn, but there was no mistaking the girl who had ruled Degrassi with an ice-cold attitude and infamous impatience. "Paige Michelchuk. How are you?"

"I'd be better if you'd put that thing down," she said, gesturing to his camera. Surprised it was still in his hands, Craig obliged. "Thanks. I'm not exactly dressed for a photo op."

Involuntarily, his eyes traveled down her body. She wore fitted jeans with a frayed hole in one knee and a university sweatshirt. It wasn't exactly a fashion statement, but it was an approachable look she hadn't possessed in high school.

"So." Paige said, when a minute had ticked by without him saying anything. "What are you doing hanging around here? I thought you were off to Hollywood to become the next big thing."

"Yeah, I tried L.A. for awhile," he answered, feigning nonchalance. "It wasn't really my scene."

"Translation: they didn't like you very much," Paige guessed.

He guffawed. "Still brutally honest, I see."

"Someone has to be." She smiled, taking most of the sting out of her words. "So what's the E! True Hollywood version?"

"Truthfully?" Craig drew in a deep breath. "I crashed and burned. Couldn't play anywhere but seedy bars, and even then, we practically had to pay them money. So here I am. I thought maybe if I came back to my roots, I'd … I don't know, get inspired."

Paige nodded, taking a step closer. "And how's that working out for you?"

"So far, not very good," he said honestly, and they both laughed. "I don't even know what I'm looking for. And even if I do find it and manage to make it into a song, I'll still have to start from scratch as far as L.A. goes. My manager – well, he's not exactly my manager anymore. AndI have no idea how to get my foot in the door."

"Sounds like you need a new manager," she suggested.

Craig aimed his viewfinder at Degrassi's front steps; the pillar they'd all had to climb. "That'd be a good start," he agreed, and snapped the photo.

Over the mechanical whirring as his film reset, he heard Paige say, "I'll do it."

"Do what?" he asked absently.

"Be your manager."

Craig coughed. "Are you serious?"

She gave him a hard look. "Why not?"

"Well – because –" He couldn't think of a reason why not. He couldn't think, period. "Well, don't you have school?"

"I can do both." She shrugged. "It's not what I thought it'd be, anyway. I want something else. I want to do this."

"Paige, I don't know." He laughed nervously. "I mean, it's a pretty tough town – trust me, I speak from experience."

"You speak," she cut in, "Like you don't know I'm the biggest bitch in the western hemisphere."

That, he couldn't really deny. "Well. I just mean, are you sure? It'd be a lot of work – getting me gigs and scheduling interviews and photo shoots and God knows what else it takes to score a recording deal."

"Well, I won't have to do any of that until you write something worth listening to," Paige pointed out. "So why don't you worry about that and leave the rest to me?"

Craig hesitated. "I just don't think you know what you're signing on for. You'll be responsible for basically running my life."

"Works for me." The smile she gave him this time was dazzling in its brightness. "I happen to be very good at running other people's lives."

He still wasn't convinced. Paige sighed. "Look, if you really have that little faith in me, we'll consider it a probationary period, okay? If you're not a household name by the end of the year, we'll go our separate ways. No hard feelings.'

"You drive a hard bargain, Michelchuk," Craig declared. He thought for another minute, then shrugged. At this point, what did he really have to lose? "You know what? Deal."

Her entire face lit up. "Seriously."

"Well, we have to shake on it," he laughed, holding out his hand.

They shook.

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A/N: Don't forget to let me know what you think!