Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. Never have, never will.

Summary: We all know what happened to Ellie when Craig went off to rehab. But what happened to him? Here's my take through his treatment and the aftermath, through "Degrassi Goes Hollywood" and beyond. CraigxEllie

A/N: I have several stories in mind for this couple, but I needed to do this after seeing "What's It Like Being a Ghost, Pt. 2" for the umpteenth time. We only got little snippets of Craig's journey and I wanted to explore that more, since he rarely gets the perspective. This is borne out of many late nights working overnight with nothing else to do, since the homework was finished. As always, please read, review, and enjoy!

"In Limbo"

The back of his throat burned, as if a fresh coat of the powdery substance slid down it, causing him to heave slightly. He felt ill, a weight of pressure on his chest pounded heavily, unrelenting. He knew he was having a panic attack, that's what Marco always described he had whenever something was out of order, too overwhelming or when he thought he was going to fail an exam. Craig rubbed his hands together, the sweat collecting between his fingers and he grasped the seat belt. He looked up the safety sign, waiting for it ring its bell so that he was allowed to leave the seat, but the plane had barely left the ground. After a few moments, the bell finally sounded, and he rocketed toward the bathroom, shutting the down tight.

He spun around, seeing his reflection in the massive mirror, extending the length of the small room. He touched his face, before leaning his forehead on the glass, meeting his identical twin, pleading for the support he neglected on the other side. He resisted the urge to vomit, knowing that it would only weaken him more. He sat down on the toilet, attempting to catch his breath, but it only made him more nauseous. He covered his mouth, his lips quivering until he closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. After a few moments, he opened them, placing his hands on his knees and rocking back and forth, trying to grasp the situation at hand. He was on a plane. He was heading to Calgary to meet Joey and going to rehab, not knowing if he would ever be able to see any of his friends again. But it was her face, her teary eyes matching his own that kept his hands shaking. He had only seen her moments ago, touched her face and spoke the words he had longed to have the courage to recite ages ago. And like everything else in his life, it was short-lived, moving on to the ever-present failure his life was supported by.

Knock, knock. "Hey, are you almost finished in there?"

"Uh, yeah. Just a sec." Craig ripped a large amount of tissue, wiping his face. He let himself look at the mirror again, afraid to see its view. He saw the paleness of his skin, the small blue veins that traveled through his cheeks and forehead, supplying the blood that coursed through his body. But more than anything, he saw a broken man, a shell of someone he used to know. It had been a long time since he recognized himself in the mirror, knowing that the only man he saw looking back was a stranger. He closed his eyes again, hoping to dig deep inside and try to salvage whatever was left, but nothing came. Only regret. He exhaled deeply, opening the door swiftly and pushing his way back to his seat, facing the window. He let his mind drift, hoping that he could settle on something tame, something that wouldn't lead him to the two things that plagued him all morning. Ellie and coke.

"Can I get you anything to drink, hon?"

Craig was startled, looking up at the smiling face with the winged broach on her collar. "Huh?"

"Beverage?" She smiled wider. "You look a little pale." She handed him a bottle of water, patting his shoulder. "Not everyone is good at flying." She looked at her other steward before passing him a bag of pretzels. "Eat something, sweetheart."

Craig nodded and smiled. "Thank you." He opened the bag, shoving the contents into his mouth. He had forgotten to eat that morning, with the added nausea and humiliation of the past weekend, he was nearly more excited to be leaving Toronto than being with Ellie in the car ride to the airport. He turned back to the window, watching the passing lands below, wondering how long would it be before he was met again with his family. He hadn't seen Joey in months and the fear of seeing his face in the circumstances of their meeting pulled down on Craig's stomach. But instead, he stuffed more pretzels in his mouth, followed by a remainder of his water. He was thinking of hailing the friendly steward, but he remained seated, concentrating on the rocky mountains below, with each peak and descent rolling over one another. He knew he had his own mountain to climb, reaching its summit would take everything he had, but with the lack of prospects or spoils, he only wanted to get off the plane and feel something underneath him.

He slid on his shades, his armor against the sun rays and others' judgmental eyes, walking through the concourse until he recognized the shining head of his stepfather, looking beguiled with his hands in his pocket. Craig knew this welcome wouldn't be welcoming, but he was still surprised when Joey's arms wrapped around him, engulfing the shame that drenched his weary bones. They held each other for a time until Craig pulled away, wanting to look at him. "Hey."

"Hey." They both were silent, trying to obtain the easy rapport that always flowed between the two. They hadn't been this quiet with one another since after Craig's breakdown two years prior. Instead, Craig cleared his throat. "Where's Angie?"

"She's at a friend's house." He took Craig's bag from his hand, looking him over before chuckling. "You look like crap."

"Thanks."

"I mean it. You look like shit, Craig." He sighed, rubbing his head. "I just wish -" He looked around, not wanting to create a scene, shaking his head. "I'm just glad you're home." He grabbed his shoulder, guiding him to the parking lot. "Come on."

As they walked to the car, Craig felt a wedge between the two, hoping to change the subject. "So, how's Angie?"

"She doing great. She's liking the new school a lot. Less kids, but she's getting the attention she needs. She's even doing better with her math."

"That's great." They were on the road now, passing strip malls and hotels, getting closer to the expressway, before Craig cleared his throat. "Has she asked about me? Is she excited to see me?"

"Craig..."

"What?" There was a silence, unlike before, with an awkwardness that suffocated the both of them. "You didn't tell her I was coming home, did you?"

"No."

"So we're surprising her? That's cool. What time are we picking her up from her friend's house?"

"Craig..." Joey glanced at Craig, amazed by his childlike behavior. "We're not going home. I'm taking you to the rehab clinic right now."

"What?"

"You have to understand. Even with a few days at home, it's too much temptation to have you like this, at home, with Angie around. I don't want her to see you like this. Do you want to have her see you like this?"

"Why can't I just stay with you guys for the weekend and go to rehab on Monday?"

Joey shook his head. "Craig, you need help right now. It's better if we go -"

"But I want to see Angie. Come on, Joey. Please. I need to see-"

"I don't want you to see my daughter!" He pulled the car over to the shoulder, turning the car off. "Craig, look. I love you. You know that. You're as much as my son as Angie is my daughter. But I can't. I can't have Angie with you like this. I don't want to expose her to this." He gripped the steering wheel, leaning his head on it. "It's best for everyone for you to get to this place as soon as possible." He reached over the partition, grasping his hand. "I just want you to get better, and the faster, the better. You can understand that, right?"

Craig looked straight ahead, doing his best to process what was happening. He knew that Joey was right, that he was in no condition to be around his nine-year-old, impressionable younger sister. But the idea of seeing her face, knowing that she loved him, even if no one else did, kept him going. She was all he had for so long and not being able to see her because of his problems again only made this entire situation that much worse. Craig didn't respond to Joey's gentle affection, only leaning further back in the seat. "Just get me there, okay?"

Joey nodded, pulling the car back onto the road. They were fifty miles from the facility, which was only thirty miles away from Joey's house. He kept the car filled with his many facts that he studied of the place from their website, rattling them off in hope it would put Craig at ease. "And they have a garden on the premises for the patients. You know, like if you can keep your plant alive, you can function and try to take care of yourself the same way."

"Yeah."

"Yeah, and it's got so many other great things too. They have a small lake too, so the patients can swim and fish and canoe. It's got so many amenities. Hell, it might feel like summer camp."

"I really don't think so."

"Yeah, maybe you're right. I just..." He offered Craig a smile, hoping it would be reciprocated. "I just want the best for you, I always have."

Craig bit the bait, giving him a smile in return. "I know." He scratched his arm, the small sensation of withdraws began shortly after his third bag of pretzels on the plane. He had been doing his best to ignore them, but he had been in the car for over an hour, and the nausea was starting up again. "Could you pull over?"

Joey noticed his complexion was a green hue, pulling over at once. He watched as Craig jumped out and ran into the grassy mound, hurling until he was dry heaving. After a few moments, he walked back into the car, wiping his mouth. "Sorry."

"I have some baby wipes behind your seat, I think." He shrugged. "You have that sort of stuff in the car when you have a kid around."

"Thanks." Craig grabbed the box, wiping his mouth again. He could feel the burning taste in this throat again, like that morning. It reminded him of the drip that always followed a coke snort, the way it slid down his throat and burn in a way that he could never fully describe. He hated it the first time he did it, thinking it was a horrible way to get high, but after a few minutes, when the drug took over his senses, he knew there wasn't any other way to live. He pulled his knees to his chest, itching to have one taste, just one, so he could get through the rest of the trip without getting sick. "Could we stop to get something to eat?"

"Yeah, of course." Joey noticed a Harvey's coming up on the next exit. "We can get another orange tray if you want."

"Yeah, sure." Craig figured there must be someone nearby that must have something in or around the store. He just had to ask the right person. When they pulled up, he spotted someone near the entrance, thinking of a way to get his attention. They walked up to the door, Craig meeting eyes with the guy, before giving him a head bud.

"I'm gonna go wash my hands, but you can go order if you want. I want to #3."

"Okay." Once Joey went toward the back, Craig ran outside, relieved to find the guy. "Hey man." Craig pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, the last one he had on him. He never really smoked, but he found it easier to talk to shady characters with one on him, giving them common ground. "You got a light?"

"Yeah." The man retrieved a lighter from his shirt pocket, lighting it for Craig. "Here."

"Thanks." Craig inhaled slightly, not letting it get too deep before exhaling. "Hey, um, I'm on the road here, but I was wondering if you knew where I could get some stuff."

"Whatcha talking about?"

"You know... stuff."

The man rolled his eyes. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, dude. But if I did, I wouldn't be going around asking people in the middle of broad daylight."

"Yeah, so I should ask about shady dealings in the middle of the night, on some creepy street corner and get picked up by the police because that's not the obvious choice."

The man chuckled. "You're a smartass, huh?"

"Rather be that than a dumbass."

"Fair enough." He dug inside his pocket, patting it. "How much you got?"

Craig spit his fingertips, wrapping the end of his cigarette and placing it behind his ear. "I got fifty, but it's all I got in the world. I'm on my way to rehab right now and I need a little something to help the orientation go smoothly."

"Hm, I don't really think anything could make that better." He chuckled again before beckoning him near the dumpsters. "Look, make this quick." He handed him a small bag and Craig handed him his bill. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Yeah, you too." He peaked into the restaurant, noticing Joey looking for him. He pulled his cigarette from behind his ear, pretending to smoke it. He waved at Joey, doing the same spitting and twisting before putting the remainder in his pocket. "Sorry, I needed a smoke."

"You smoke now? I thought that was bad for singers."

He felt the small rock of coke in his pocket, giving him more pleasure than he had felt in the last 24 hours. "I've been doing a lot of things that aren't good for singers lately."

Joey didn't react, only munching on his burger. "We're only about ten miles away, so we should be there in the next few minutes." He wiped his mouth, watching Craig pick at his food. "I didn't know what to order you."

"It's fine." He felt his new best friend burning a hole in his pocket, itching to feel the burn again. "I think I need to use the bathroom." He jumped up, dashing for the stalls. He locked the entrance, walking over to the sink and pulling out the stash. He spilled a little of it on his arm, trying to grind and spread it into a few rows. He knew it wasn't worth the price, getting better quality for much less, but he wasn't in any condition to bargain, appeased to get what he could. Inhaling the three rows in close succession, he felt the familiar drip, welcoming it like an old friend. He closed his eyes, taking in the subtle high and holding onto it for as long as he could, knowing it would be his last. He looked up at his reflection than, white powder spread across his arm and upper lip, watching a single tear flow down his cheek. He loathed what he saw, knowing that he was trapped inside this figure before him. He slid down the wall, rubbing off the residue from his arm and holding himself until he heard a knocking at the door. "Be right out!"

"Craig, it's me. We need to get going. You have to be there at seven."

"Okay, be right there." He pulled himself up, washing off his face and reminded of his previous state in the airplane bathroom, feeling just as small, but not nearly as high.

The rehabilitation center grounds were picturesque as they rolled up to the gates. Trees were plentiful as they passed, a tranquil setting for their patients was obvious, but it only made Craig claustrophobic, surrounded by all the barriers, making an escape nearly impossible. He imagined what he would do if he did escape, where he would go. But deep down, he knew he needed to face whatever demon lied inside himself, destroying him. He was coming down from his high, not saying much to Joey in the last stretch of the ride, not wanting to lead on that something transpired in Harvey's. Once the car stopped at the front door, Joey turned to Craig.

"It's gonna be okay."

"How do you know?" Craig crossed his arms, looking at the daunting building aside them. "How do you know I won't screw this up like everything else?"

"Because I know you really want this. Because deep down, you want to be back to that bright eyed kid that left me back in Toronto, wishing for a life of stardom and fame." He patted his shoulder, giving him a smile. "You just got strayed away from that. You can have it back, all of it. You just need to get through this, reclaim your life again." He sniffled, brushing a stray tear away. "I believe in you, anyway."

Craig nodded, taking his hand. "Thanks."

They walked into the lobby, being greeted by a large, heavyset woman behind a desk, looking curious, but friendly. "Can I help you?"

Joey walked up, handing him some papers. "We're here to check in Craig Manning."

"Oh, of course. We've been waiting for you. Dr. Davenport will be with you in a moment. If you could just precede into the reception area." She offered a smile, before pointing down the hall.

Joey and Craig obeyed, taking seats adjacent to each other. Craig fiddled with his zipped on his duffel bag, not looking anywhere else until Joey reached for his hand. He gave it a squeeze, returning the favor until a lean gentleman walked through the large swinging doors. "Craig, great to see you." He made direct eye contact with Craig, extending his hand, smiling. He turned to Joey with an even larger smile. "And you must be Mr. Jeremiah. It's so great to have you both here." He beckoned them to follow, passing by a cluster of patients gathered in common area, before entering an office at the end of the corridor.

After offering them seats, he smiled again. "First, I want to welcome you both to Pinewood Rehabilitation Center. This is a safe environment for all, but we specialize in drug abuse and rehabilitation. We are so happy that you've chosen us to help you through this difficult time in your life." He opened up a file, scanning its contents, looking back at Craig every few moments. "I see here this isn't your first time getting clinical help. Well, at any rate, I want to welcome you here and hope that over the next few months, you will be able to call this place more than just a rehab, but a home and a safe place for you to talk to either me or any of our very talented staff members about anything and everything that might be troubling you. We are only here to help."

He smiled again, leaving Craig slightly unsettled. He didn't trust the way he kept smiling, as if they were going to execute him at any moment if he didn't oblige the same respect. He glanced around the room, which was white on top of white, even the diplomas on the wall were white, with white frames. He wiggled in his seat, trying to concentrate on what the doctor was saying to Joey, but it was overwhelmed by the hunger for more coke. He couldn't ignore the itching, crawling up his arms and legs, shaking his tenets and triggering tremors on his fingers.

"So, I think we're all done here for the moment. One of our orderlies will escort Craig to his dormitory where he can settle his belongings before his checkup." He stood up than, signaling for Joey and Craig to do the same. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Jeremiah." He shook his hand, looking back at Craig, who seemed oblivious to the exchange. "Craig, I look forward to becoming a better acquaintance. I just want to reestablish that this is not a volunteer clinic, that once you have been committed, you can not check out until we see fit for you to be rejoined into society."

Craig looked at Joey, only hearing this for the first time but knowing that he needed to do this for him, for Angie and for Ellie, the only people that he really wanted to stay in his life. "I understand." He shook his hand before grabbing his duffel bag, opening the office door and walking down the hall, followed by Joey.

When they reached the end, Craig turned to Joey and dropped his bag, enveloping his stepfather in his arms. "I'll see you soon."

"Yes you will." He held him tighter, letting another tear fall. "I love you, Craig. I know it doesn't seem like it now, but I do. You're gonna get through this and I'm here whenever you need me. Just call. Okay?"

"Okay." They held each other for a moment longer until Craig noticed the orderly, letting go. "See you."

"See you, Craig." Joey waved, walking into the early evening and disappearing into the night.

Craig looked around the small room that two beds, two separate desks, one including a new composition notebook and two reading chairs in opposite corners. He threw down his bag on the untouched bed, noticing books on the other, lived-in side. He studied the titles, seeing several authors that he enjoyed and others he didn't know. He sat quickly, looking at the sun descending into the horizon, wondering if he should be doing something else. He was startled when the door swung open to a woman with a clipboard. "Manning comma Craig." She smiled, checking off his name. "Follow me, dear. You need to take your checkup before lights out."

He shook slightly at the nomenclature, thinking of prison movies he had watched growing up, thinking of prisoners breaking out through man-made holes in their cells. "Okay." He followed the woman, passing by another group of patients, this time outside a large meeting room. They stopped near the other end of the building, where their infirmary was. As they walked into the first room, the nurse pulled the partition sheet between them. "Please remove all clothing and place them on the table beside you. That includes socks and underpants. The doctor will be with you momentarily."

After a few chilly moments, the doctor arrived briskly, yanking the clipboard from the end of the bed. "Hello, Craig. I'm Dr. Young." He scanned his physique, nodding. "You look like you need to eat." He chuckled. "I'm afraid you missed dinner, but I'm sure we can scrounge you up something from the kitchen in a bit." He pulled on some vinyl gloves and patted Craig's shoulder. "Now son, can you please spread your legs and when I say, cough."

Craig walked back to his dormitory, feeling violated and slightly disoriented after his checkup, knowing the doctor knew he used only an hour before. Their eyes met for a moment when he took his blood pressure, certain that he was already disappointed with him, but he promised Craig that he would have someone send some food for him very soon. He entered his room, noticing someone was already there, wearing headphones. He was greeted to a warm glow to the room, provided by the desk lamp. He felt like he was intruding, but he continued to walk to his bed when the other guest looked up. "Um, hi."

He removed his headphones, nodding. "How's it going?"

"Fine." He sat down, immediately jumping back up. He attempted again, more gently and laid down.

"Anal examination, eh?" The other roommate chuckled. "You must be here for drugs, huh?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Drugs and alcohol. And a bunch of other shit." He extended his hand. "Michael. But everyone calls me Mikey." He shrugged. "We have four other Michaels here, so I got stuck with Mikey. There's also Mike and Mickey. And of course Michael. But Michael's a douche."

"Okay." Craig laid on his back, trying to ignore the tenderness of his buttocks. "How long have you've been here?"

"Almost two months. But this is my third stint."

"Wow, really?"

"Yeah, well, I'm what that they call '(technical term)'. I don't know, I just like getting high."

"Yeah, me too. And look where it got me."

Mikey turned completely around, facing Craig. "What's your story?"

Craig sat up slightly, wincing at his pain. "I, uh, I'm a musician. Or was one. I had a record deal and all that stuff for a while. And than I fucked it all up by doing drugs and I lost the respect of my friends, family and other musicians. And now I'm stuck here."

"Isn't that kinda the whole idea of being a rockstar? Getting blitzed out and winding up in places like this? You know, for the whole 'inspiration' bullshit you guys always rave about. 'Expanding your mind' and shit."

"Yeah, I guess. I just didn't want that." He sat up completely than, thinking about what he actually wanted for the first time in what seemed like months. He had forgotten what brought him to Vancouver, what made him want to play. He didn't want to be the butt end to the joke anymore, the same clichéd musician with the same old problems. He wanted to make music for music's sake, sharing his songs with the world because he wanted to, not to overcompensate for other shortcomings. But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed it had become that. "I don't know, man."

"Well, if it's any consolation, no one really does." He turned around, putting on his headphones again. "That's why we're here. We don't know shit."

The door knocked, entering another orderly with a tray of food wrapped in cellophane. "Sorry it took so long." He nodded before leaving.

Craig pulled the wrap away, looking at the fried chicken, potatoes and broccoli on his plate with a slice of apple pie. It all looked like rubber. "Yum."

"Bon appetite!" Mikey chuckled. "Did they give you a side of a big cheesy smile?"

"You noticed that too?"

"Yeah, man. It's fucking creepy. They'll fucking drown you with all the smiling."

"Yeesh." Craig nibbled at his chicken thigh, enjoying it more than he thought he would. "Not bad."

"No, it's probably the only thing that's legit, the food." He put his headphones back on, leaving Craig to it.

As Craig continued to chew, he wondered what Ellie was up to at the very moment. Was she eating alone or with Jesse? Or Marco? Or eating at all. He drank his water and hoped wherever she was, she was safe and okay, away from him and his issues. He had given her enough grief to last her a lifetime. If nothing else, being here would keep him from her, which was a mixed blessing. He just hoped he took advantage and not let it go to waste.

More to come...