This Photograph Is Proof (I Know You Know)

Remember more than you'd like to forget.

There was no way in hell Sean was getting any sleep.

Not with Emma stretched out beside him, her chest rising and falling slowly with every breath. Not with her head resting ever so slightly on his shoulder, the soft strands of her hair brushing his cheek like a caress. And certainly not with her silken whisper echoing in his ears.

For what it's worth, I missed you, too.

She'd probably only said it to torture him. And it was working, he had to admit. He couldn't help but think about the last time he'd seen her; their day in Wasaga when they'd finally buried the hatchet.

At least, he thought they had. Her outburst tonight said different. He still didn't fully understand everything that had happened. He'd always known Emma had more problems than she let on – hell, most of the time, he was one of them. But over the course of the summer, they'd gotten the best of her, something he'd never thought possible.

He found himself wishing she'd called him, or written, or something. If only he'd known, he would've … What? Some small, reasonable part of him asked. What could you have done for her? You were a wreck, too, don't forget.

"I could've helped her," he argued stubbornly, then stopped. He was talking to himself. He was lying in Emma Nelson's bed, her arm wrapped around his waist (and when had that happened?) and arguing with the voices in his head. "Oh, man …"

With a small groan, he disentangled himself and got off the bed, wandering over to her desk. It made him smile to see it, so neat and organized, obviously a product of the old Emma's care. The one he knew and loved, not the sad-eyed stranger who'd fought with him earlier. The bulletin board hanging on the wall made his smile grow. Glossy pictures and magazine cutouts covered the cork surface: a family portrait from the day Jack was born, a younger version of Manny sticking her tongue out at the camera, JT giving Toby bunny ears. A newspaper clipping about the importance of recycling, a letter in painstaking calligraphy from her grandmother. And then he spotted himself.

It was a picture of the two of them from last year, before all the fighting and misunderstandings began. He remembered it being taken. They'd been in the courtyard, under the shade of a tree, and she'd been trying to make him eat some new vegetarian treat, tofu mixed with bran or something equally unappetizing. He'd flatly refused, but she'd persisted, and they'd begun wrestling right there on Degrassi's lawn. Out of nowhere, a yearbook staffer popped up and let out the banshee cry of "Say cheese!"

They'd looked up in surprise just in time for the flash, his arm still looped loosely around her neck and her hands on his in an attempt to get free. We look happy. Her cheeks were flushed from breathless laughter, her eyes sparkling with life. And he was grinning like a fool, like the kind of guy who'd eat the damn tofu-bran-wheat concoction just to make her happy.

A far cry from where they were now. He sighed, wondering if there was any hope for them being friends again. He wanted to help her, if he could. It surprised him how much he wanted to help her.

A noise from upstairs startled him, keys being dropped into a bowl as Spike returned from another late night of work. Realizing how long he'd been gone from his own party, Sean pulled out his cell phone and dialed Craig's number.

"Dude, where'd you disappear to? Everyone's taking off and they all want to have one last word with the man of honor," Craig said by way of greeting.

"I had something to take care of," he answered cryptically. "Listen, man, I've got a favor to ask you."

"As long as it doesn't involve paying bail or using a fake I.D., I'm your man."

Sean smiled. "It's nothing like that. I just need a ride back to my place. When you're done – hold on a sec, man."

Alone in her bed, Emma was whimpering gently. As Sean watched, she began to toss and turn, her mumbled words growing louder. "No … Rick … please."

"On second thought," Sean said into the phone, his eyes never leaving her thrashing form. "Forget it. Listen, can you just tell Ellie I'll be back as soon as I can?"

"You sure, dude? She looks pretty pissed."

"Yeah. I'm sure. Tell her I'm sorry, but I … have to do this. Thanks, man." Without waiting for a reply, he pushed 'End' and approached the bed. "Emma? Wake up, Em. Wake up."

-X-

"Hi, Emma." Rick materializes in front of her, making her flinch. Isn't he gone yet? she wonders. Hasn't he had enough? "Sorry I kissed you."

He is still covered in yellow paint and feathers, and she thinks that's what makes him so scary: That he is disguised, transformed, even, into something that is both more and less human. It's like being chased by a clown at a birthday party, she thinks, and you are terrified but laughing all the same because this thing coming after you is so garishly humorous.

"I'm glad I found you," he continues, his tone pleasant. She can't imagine him using the gun he holds in one shaking hand. But Jimmy, lying halfway down the hall in a pool of his own blood, would probably beg to differ. "You made my list."

A hit list? It's too surreal, the mental image of Rick feverishly scribbling down the names of anyone who's ever hurt him. Hit lists are on the ten o'clock news, they are popular in other high schools far, far away from Degrassi and Emma. The lists in her life contain grocery items, and things to do, and universities she should look into.

"You flirted with me. I thought you liked me, but that was something else."

Thank God for Sean, she tells herself, feeling his hand on hers, tugging her gently back. He is talking to Rick, calmly, rationally, and she thinks for a minute that everything will be just fine because Sean won't let anyone hurt her. No matter what terms they are on or how much he hates her now, he won't let her die at Rick's hands.

"Sean!" Ellie screams his name from down the hall, where most of the student body is trampling one another to escape. "Sean, come on, we have to hurry! He has a gun, Sean! I need you with me!"

Emma's fingers spasm in Sean's, clutching tighter. He won't leave her. She knows it. "I don't want to hurt you, Sean," Rick says. "You never did anything to me. You're free to go, if you choose."

"He won't," Emma forces out, and bites her lip as Rick's eyes fly back to her face. He takes a step towards her, making her stumble back, and in the instant she goes off balance, Sean disappears. "Where's Sean? What did you do to him?"

"I let him go. See?" Rick uses the gun to point out the window. Sean is just beyond the glass, standing on the grass with his arms around Ellie, looking mournfully at Emma over her shoulder. Sorry, he mouths, then kisses Ellie's cheek as she whispers something to him. "He never hurt me like you did."

"I never meant to," she says desperately. Toby is gone, too. The halls are empty, save for her, Rick, and Jimmy's lifeless form. "I didn't want to hurt you, Rick, I just didn't … like you, like that. I didn't mean to lead you on."

"You liked the attention, I think. You like being wanted, don't you, little Miss Save-the-World? It makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. That's why you broke up with Sean, right? He found new friends, he didn't need you anymore."

"No! No!" She is on her knees, crying, scrambling frantically away from him but he is sure-footed and steady, closing the distance between them. "Rick … please."

"Please, what, Emma?" He laughs, shrill and high-pitched, like nails being dragged against a chalkboard or a scream. "Please don't hurt you? Why shouldn't I? You hurt me."

"I didn't mean to. Please, please, I take it back, I take it all back."

"Too late for that." Rick grins smugly. "You're dead."

Horrified, she glances down and sees the blood seeping from her stomach, meshing with the faded yellow stains that had refused to come out. She wonders when the gun went off. She wonders if it hurt. "No … no …"

And then Sean is there again, his hands on her wound, his eyes on hers. "Emma? Wake up, Em. Wake up," he says, and she wants to cry.

"I c-can't," she tells him, sobbing, shaking, screaming. "I can't. I'm dead. You went away and I died! Sean, save me, please. Please …"

-X-

"Sean, save me," Emma muttered wildly. There were tears on her cheeks, Sean noted, and her breath was coming in short, jagged gasps. "Please. Please …"

"Emma!"

With a small yelp, she jerked awake, her eyes wide and terrified. He gathered her shuddering form in his arms, whispering nonsense syllables of comfort in her ear. Her nails dug into his back as she clutched at him, begging him through her tears not to leave.

"Emma, Emma, I'm not going anywhere," he said when he finally discerned her words. "It was just a bad dream, that's all. I'm right here."

"Oh, it was awful," she cried into his shoulder. "Rick was there and he shot me and you and Toby and everyone were watching. And Ellie made you go with her and – and – and he killed me because I was so horrible to him."

"You weren't horrible to Rick, Emma," Sean said practically. "No worse than anyone else, anyways."

She wasn't listening. "He just wanted me to like him. I couldn't even … I couldn't even stomach his touch. His hand was so cold and clammy. And when he kissed me, I couldn't think of anything but getting away."

"He kissed you? That is a bad dream."

She pulled away and looked at him strangely, brushing the last of her tears away. "What do you mean? That part really happened."

"What are you talking about?"

"Rick kissed me. The day of the shooting. He had a crush on me, I guess, though I don't know why. I was mean to him most of the time. I started that campaign, I tripped him." For a second, she was lost in thought, mentally reviewing how ugly she'd been to the boy. That's not really me. She didn't think so, at least. She was usually a pretty good person, wasn't she?

"Emma? Rick? Kissing you? Elaborate," Sean prompted, anxious to find out what had transpired between the two of them. Now that she'd said it, he vaguely remembered Rick apologizing for kissing her. He hadn't paid much attention to the words, he'd been a little preoccupied by the gun aimed at Emma, but the memory resurfaced now.

"During the show, he held my hand." She recalled the sensation and shivered. "And after … after, I tracked him down to tell him how immature the trick was. I felt bad for him. He was so proud to win that stupid game. And he kissed me. I pushed him away, told him to get a clue, and ran away."

"And he went home and got a gun," Sean finished. "So you've been blaming yourself for the shooting this whole time?"

"I made him angry, Sean. I didn't just break his heart, but I pretty much ground his pride onto the dirt while I was at it. I shouldn't have been so mean, but I just didn't want him to touch me again."

She looked heartbroken, curled up in his embrace with her eyes bloodshot and wet, her skin so pale it was almost translucent, hands loosely gripping the sleeves of her sweatshirt. She was mad at herself for whatever role she thought she'd played in the tragedy and still frightened by her nightmare, he knew.

"Emma, it wasn't your fault. Rejection can be dealt with, even coming from you." He should know, he'd dealt with it time after time without putting bullets in innocent peoples' backs. And he was supposed to be the one with anger management issues. "Rick did what he did because he was sick of being treated like scum by everyone. He just wanted some respect." Sean felt sick to his stomach. "And I killed him."

"No." It was Emma's turn to hold him, wrapping her skinny arms around his neck like an anchor. "No, you can't think of it like that, Sean. You saved lives that day. Mine, for one. And Toby's. And God knows who else Rick would have gone after."

"That's what the therapist said." He gave her a small smile. "In Wasaga. My mom thought I might need some closure, so she handed over half her life savings for me to talk to this woman – Ann – twice a week. It helped. I didn't think it would, but – it did."

"I skipped the appointment my Mom made me," Emma confided. "She told me it was a one-time thing, unless I needed otherwise, so I just … didn't go. I couldn't stand sitting in someone's stuffy office and describing the scene while they made notes and nodded their head in all the right places."

"Did you talk to anyone at all about it?"

She shook her head. "Past is past, was my motto for the summer. Look how far it got me."

"You know …" He licked his lips, absurdly nervous. It was just one friend comforting another, that was all. "You can talk to me, now that I'm back. Anytime. You know the number."

"I might take you up on that … later," she said, and yawned hugely. "I'm so tired. And my head hurts. Remind me never to drink again, 'kay?"

"'Kay," he laughed, and began to stand. "I'll let you get some sleep."

"Sean?" He paused. "In my dream, you left. We were in front of Rick's gun, and then you went outside to be with Ellie, and he shot me."

"That's not what happened," Sean reminded her. "That would never really happen."

Emma was quiet for a long moment. "I know. But could you … stay? Just until I fall asleep," she was quick to add. "I don't want to be a nuisance, I just –"

He shushed her with a finger to her mouth, smiling. "Em. I'll stay as long as you need me."

-X-

"You guys had quite the party last night, it looks like."

"Oh, it was nothing like the others, Mr. Hollis," Ellie rushed to explain to the landlord. "Sean's actually moving back in, so we just had a little celebration. If anyone complained, I'm really sorry, but I can promise it was very contained."

"Calm down, Ellie, no one said anything to me about being disturbed. I just noticed the balloons."

"Oh." Blushing, Ellie studied the floor. She was a little on edge this morning. Sean had disappeared last night and hadn't come home yet. She knew, thanks to Craig, that he was safe, she just didn't know where he was or why he was there.

"Ellie?" Mr. Hollis cleared his throat. "The rent?"

"Oh! Oh, of course, sorry. I'll just be a sec." She ran into the bedroom, rifling through the drawer that Sean kept his wallet in when he wasn't going anywhere. Luckily, he hadn't brought it along on his late-night expedition, so if the check was in there like it should be, all would be well.

It was, thankfully, folded and tucked into the one of the wallet's many storage spaces, beneath a few pictures of Sean's family and herself. As Ellie struggled to remove the check from its tight squeeze, the pictures fell onto the floor in disarray.

"Damn it," she swore, and ran to hand over the check to Mr. Hollis. He tipped his hat to her and took a balloon for his young son on the way out the door. Ellie returned to the bedroom, knelt to clean up the mess, and found herself staring at Emma Nelson.

"What the hell?" Blond and beautiful, Emma's image smiled up at her prettily from the standard school picture. It looked recent, but since school had only just started, Ellie assumed it was last years. On the back, in bubbly blue ink, was inscribed, To: Sean. Love, Emma.

Ellie replaced it in its hiding spot and, frowning, continued getting ready for the day. As she showered and dressed, she semi-convinced herself that it was fine, because it was an old picture and at the time, Sean and Ellie hadn't spoken two words to each other. And the message was no cause for concern, she wrote 'Love' in letters to her father, her cousins, her Grade One pen pal, for God's sake! So, really, it was no big deal.

But why would he keep it?