Clare pushed up her sleeve, eying the row of thin, light red scars on the inside of her arm. No one would ever guess what she was doing to herself. She had been going to therapy like a good little girl; she had even spoken a few times, smiled and told Dr. Alger that she was feeling better, careful not to overdo her delivery. Dr. Alger had smiled back and told Clare that that was good, really, really good.

And there was a little guilt, but to be honest, Clare didn't care.

She didn't care that she had lied to her therapist. She didn't care that she was lying to the whole world.

The whole class, every single screwed up one of them, had smiled, too, and Adam, who was sitting beside her, had patted her knee encouragingly, which had very nearly caused Clare to leap right out of her chair and sprint for the door. Nearly. And if it had been almost anyone else, Clare most likely would have. But Adam seemed so kind, so… gentle by nature, that Clare didn't think that he would hurt her.

It didn't hurt to keep her guard up, though. Clare pulled her sleeve back down, stretching it over the heel of her hand.

If anyone found out what she was doing… if anyone saw the scars or the new, fresh cut higher up on her arm, around three inches above her elbow, well… Clare didn't want to know what would happen.

She wasn't crying.

She refused to cry.

Clare fought to keep the tears on the inside. It seemed like all she did these days was cry, cry, cry. Stupid tears, stupid sobs, stupid shakes, stupid emptiness inside that momentarily filled with pure self-hatred as the drops of salty water rolled down her cheeks.

She refused to cry.

She was still shaking, still empty inside, but one step at a time.

"Are you okay?"

Clare froze, and then turned around slowly; Adam was standing awkwardly in front of her, like he wasn't sure if he should stay and comfort her or keep on walking.

"Y-yeah," she whispered. "I'm f-fine." Her voice was trembling a little too much for anyone to believe her, though.

Adam hesitated, and then sat down on the bench beside her, keeping around a foot of space between them. "What you told Dr. Alger today… about everything being fine… it was a lie, wasn't it?" His voice was soft and quiet, and for some reason, Clare felt like maybe she could talk to Adam. He wasn't like the others; even Eli wasn't so calm, so damned peaceful, like Adam was.

"Yeah," Clare admitted, still fighting the tears.

"You don't have to lie, Clare. It… it takes time. Everything takes time."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't… I don't know what happened to you, to make you want to kill yourself, and I don't expect you to tell me, but… it'll take time to heal. You don't have to pretend like everything's okay if it's not."

Yes, I do.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"For what?"

"For… not walking away."

Adam smiled slightly. He kept himself a little ways away from her; he seemed to understand that she didn't want to be touched.

But even he didn't understand.

She could pretend that he did.

But no one ever would.

000

Eli knew a thing or two about bullies.

He had experience with them, after all, back when he was that weird kid on the playground who never talked to anyone, and then in the seventh grade when he spent all of his free time writing in that tattered red spiral notebook with the skull drawn on the front in black Sharpie. There was Mike, there was Noah, there were probably fifty more whose names he couldn't be bothered to remember.

But now he was worse than that weird kid.

He was that weird kid who killed his girlfriend.

He was that weird kid who tried to kill himself.

He was weak.

He was prey.

He was a target to all of them.

They looked at him, and they saw someone who they could push around, someone who they could beat on without anything happening to them. He'd tried to kill himself, after all. He deserved it, after all. It was fun, it was cool.

Eli didn't even try to understand the minds of those people.

He leaned back against the stall door, pressing his hand against his nose to try to stop the bleeding. This was what his life had come to; hiding in the bathroom with blood flowing down his face, into his mouth, and yes, it was as disgusting as it sounded. He had nose blood dripping into his mouth.

God damn it… Eli pressed harder, grumbling to himself as he felt the blood begin to drip from his hand down his arm. Why wouldn't it just stop fucking bleeding already?

He wasn't weak. He wasn't prey. He wasn't a target.

He was going to fight back.

Damn it all. Damn them all to hell.

He was going to fight back.

000

Adam stepped out onto the sidewalk, taking a deep breath. Dr. Alger's group therapy was definitely helping; the whole school of Degrassi knew that he was transgender, which he wasn't exactly thrilled about, but Drew, Eli, Fiona, Clare, and even Bianca accepted him for who he was, not what he was. Over the past few weeks, he'd even begun to accept himself.

It wasn't easy. His mother still didn't understand; before his suicide attempt, she'd insisted on calling him Gracie, and she'd refused to let him leave the house wearing "guy clothes." Now, at least she was making an effort, always correcting herself when she let the old name slip out or referred to Adam as "her" or "she." She was trying, and that was all Adam could ask for.

The day everyone had discovered his secret at Degrassi had easily been the worst day of his life. He'd transferred to the school in the middle of his freshman year, determined to no longer live life as a lie, and then… well, the students at Degrassi weren't stupid. Not all of them, anyways. They'd been able to put it together, piece by piece, until some chick had ripped his shirt open in front of the lockers and his secret had come out.

There was no getting that genie back into the bottle, and Adam had wanted to just go back home and hide. He'd wanted to just lock the door to his room and cry like a little girl.

And he'd hated himself.

Then, at the beginning of the summer, he'd had the brilliant idea to leap out into traffic, and then his blood had been smeared all over the windshield and there were sirens and he wasn't dead. He was in pain, but he wasn't dead.

Adam could have said that it was an accident. It had been raining, after all, and foggy; he could have said that he was listening to his iPod and hadn't seen or heard the car as he was crossing the street. But then his mother had come to the hospital and thrown her arms around him and whispered, "Oh, God, Gracie, I was so worried about you, baby girl."

And that was the last straw.

He'd exploded. He'd yelled at his mother that he had tried to kill himself, because of her. Because she couldn't accept that he wasn't a girl anymore, that she had a son, not a daughter. And her mother's face had gone white, her mouth hanging open in surprise.

But now she was trying.

"Um, hey- Adam, right?"

Adam turned to see a tall guy with brown hair and slightly squinted eyes staring at him, a white envelope in one hand. "Yeah?" His voice came out higher than he'd meant to, more like Gracie's voice, but he was a little… paranoid. For some reason, Adam got some very bad guy vibe off of him. He controlled his voice and added, "Who are you?"

"Mark Fitzgerald. Call me Fitz." This Fitz guy looked friendly enough, but there was something in his voice that set Adam a little on edge. "You know Clare, right? Clare Edwards? Isn't she in your therapy group or something?"

Adam wondered how the hell this guy knew that, but he decided that it couldn't hurt to tell him the truth. "Yeah, she is."

"Cool. Listen, could you give this to her?" Fitz thrust the wrinkled white envelope at Adam, and Adam stared at it, raising his eyebrows slightly. "I… I need to talk to you, but you know how girls are."

I know that Clare's not like other girls.

I know that you must have done something really fucked up to her if she doesn't want to talk to you.

Adam forced an amused laugh and grabbed the envelope, folding it and stuffing it into his pocket. "Sure, whatever."

He didn't want to give the letter to Clare. Something told him that she would be better off if she cut this Mark Fitzgerald out of her life.

It was most likely wrong. It was definitely wrong. He had no business with Clare Edwards.

As soon as Fitz was out of sight, Adam pulled the envelope out of his pocket and ripped it open, feeling guilty for reading words that were meant for Clare's eyes only. But he couldn't forget the way that she was sitting there, her shoulders shaking, looking like she was about to fall apart. He didn't like her, not like that- hell, he barely knew her- but he wanted to make sure that Fitz's words weren't going to hurt her more.

Inside the envelope was a folded, slightly crumpled piece of notebook paper, with three words scrawled in messy handwriting on a single line.

I miss you.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Three words couldn't hurt. Three words wouldn't make any difference.

Adam stuffed the notebook paper and torn envelope back into his pocket. It was just three words.

There was no reason why he shouldn't give it to Clare.

Was there?

000

A/N: I do not cry easily.

I didn't cry when I watched The Notebook, Titanic, or I Am Legend (it's SAD when he kills his dog!). I didn't cry when I read Where the Red Fern Grows or Marley and Me or really any other sad book I've ever picked up. I didn't cry when I was watching NCIS (spoilers, I guess, for all of you readers who watch NCIS) and Kate was killed.

But when Adam was shot last night, I bawled my eyes out.

At least he's still alive, and at least Degrassi is going to be back in a few months. I now ship Adam/Bianca, and I literally cheered when Bianca apologized to Adam. And Eli and Clare had a MOMENT at the hospital!

Eclare WILL happen again. I don't care how many people tell me they won't.

And from the new promo… it seems like Jake and Alli are gonna get together.

I SHIP THAT.

I also ship Vince/jail cell, and I hope they never break up.

And for those of you who are interested, I posted a one-shot a couple days ago called Psychosomatic… check it out if you want, I guess.

Anyways, review please! I do not own Degrassi, The Notebook, Titanic, I Am Legend, Where the Red Fern Grows, Marley and Me, or NCIS. (Wow, that's a long disclaimer.)