Hey all! Guess who's back (finally!)? With this brand new story, too! And it's all about Jimmy and Manny! I'm anxious to get any feedback so I know if I should continue or not, so please remember to leave a review! And, disclaimer – the chapter titles are from a Goo Goo Dolls cd, and all the italicized quotes are from their songs. The characters are also not mine (surprise, surprise). Enjoy!

What A Scene

How does it feel when you find out what you're not gonna be?

Jimmy Brooks was shot on an unseasonably warm Tuesday in March.

In the following days, the doctors would be sure to mention repeatedly how lucky he'd been. His mother would sob messily at his bedside and thank God for sparing him, his father standing awkwardly in the doorway and nodding along with her prayers. Hazel, Spinner, Paige, Marco … everyone who visited would gush over his good fortune until he was tempted to remove his IV and finish Rick's job.

He didn't remember much of anything about the shooting itself. As much as his therapist pushed and prodded with all the right questions, no matter how many nights he sat up torturing himself with recollection, he couldn't quite recall the scene.

Rick had approached innocently enough. That much Jimmy was sure of. He'd still been feeling sorry for the kid at that point. Rick had been working so hard to get back into Degrassi's good graces. And the quiz show had meant so much to him. To have all his success ruined by some loser's idea of a practical joke was a damn shame, in Jimmy's opinion.

But something had been different about him. Jimmy could kick himself (and, yes, he recognized the irony of that statement) for not having seen it. Rick had been almost … mechanical that afternoon. Jimmy should have realized something was off. He was supposed to be smart.

He was also supposed to be in school right now. Instead, he was stuck staring blankly at the wall behind his therapist's head, pretending to listen to her "No, I've never been shot, but I think I can still offer some good advice to a person in your situation" psychobabble.

"Jimmy?" Claire Stevenson rapped her pen against her legal pad three times to get his attention. It was always three times when she realized his mind had wandered. Twice was when he'd said something she found particularly "insightful" and once meant she disagreed with one of his more morbid statements. "Jimmy, what are you thinking about?"

There are no stupid questions, he tried to remind himself, but a more sarcastic response was already working its way out of his mouth. "Gee, Claire, I was debating whether or not I should indulge in a second helping of flavorless jello tonight, or if that would just put my girlish figure right over the edge."

Her only reply to his attitude was a lifted brow and one sharp tap of the pen. "I'm going to take that response to mean you were thinking about the shooting."

"Oh, that? Psh." Feigning carelessness, he brushed the issue aside with a wave of his hand. "That was ages ago, I've moved on to more important matters."

"Jimmy." Claire's disapproval was apparent. "Sarcasm is an admirable verbal defense but, really, it's no way to deal with so large of an issue."

Jimmy sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Yeah, I know. So you keep saying."

"And you keep not listening," she pressed. That was always Claire's biggest concern. He supposed it wasn't completely her fault that she was so caught up on the listening issue. He guessed it was something she was used to focusing on, seeing as how much she listened determined how big her paycheck was. "So. How 'bout we try it the other way? You talk. I'll listen."

"We've done that, too, Clare. We've been over and over this. I've told you everything I remember seeing, thinking, feeling … not feeling," he added with a nod to his legs. "What else do you really want me to say about the whole goddamn thing?"

She lifted her hands. "You can say whatever you want to say, Jimmy."

Right. Whatever he wanted to say. As long as it wasn't too bitter, sarcastic, or honest. Just like he could tell his mother all about it, as long as he was careful to leave out all the gruesome details. Just like Hazel wanted to be there for him the whole way through, but couldn't even stomach hearing him throw up through the hospital's thin walls.

Just tell her you're cured, man, an inner voice instructed. You're over it and you're going to be just fine.

She's a professional, he countered mentally. I think she can tell when a patient is just telling her what she wants to hear.

Give it a shot anyway. She doesn't really care either way. Say something to get her off your back.

Decision made, he opened his mouth to speak as a knock sounded on the door.

"Hold that thought," Claire instructed, and called for the intruder to come in.

Jimmy's primary doctor – Bedingfield, a kindly old man who seemed to specialize in bad jokes and long-winded stories that supposedly had morals – poked his head into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, Dr. Stevenson, but could I steal Jimmy away early today?"

There was a moment of silence in which they both processed his words. For Dr. Bedingfield to seek out Jimmy and abruptly end his session meant he must have important news of some sort. And far be it for Jimmy to be a pessimist, but things hadn't been going so well for him lately and he had a sinking feeling it was going to be bad.

Claire collected herself first and cleared her throat to restart more normal interaction. "He's all yours, Doc." Setting her pen firmly down on the desktop, she beamed a smile in Jimmy's direction. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Sure," he responded dully. Usually, he would have made some kind of rude remark in their closing moments, but he was distracted by Bedingfield hovering in the doorway. He wheeled himself into the hallway and swiveled to face the older man. "What's up, Doc?"

"The latest test results are in." Dr. Bedingfield clapped one hand to Jimmy's shoulder in a reassuring manner. "Follow me."

Shoulders slumped, Jimmy followed the man who held his future in a slim manila envelope.

XXX

Manny Santos wasn't at Degrassi the day Rick changed its history forever. With everyone at school looking down their noses at her, she didn't feel the need to shower the nerd herd – led by her former best friend – with her school spirit. And seeing as she had a far more important issue to deal with, she'd chosen to duck out early and take a cab to the clinic.

Later, after hearing the story retold a thousand times by reporters and classmates alike, she calculated that at the moment the first shot was fired, she was finishing the forms the receptionist had given her. By the time Sean stepped in to save Emma's life, inadvertently taking Rick's, Manny had donned a paper gown and was waiting anxiously to take the next step.

Dr. Ames knocked briskly, but entered without waiting for Manny's assent. Fitting her gloves to her hands with a frightening snap, she introduced herself and began the exam.

"Manuela Santos."

"Uh, Manny," she corrected nervously. "It's just … Manny."

Dr. Ames glanced up from her notes just long enough to flash a toothless smile. "Right. Manny. Age seventeen. Sexually active since …?"

"Just last month." Feeling oddly on trial, she rushed to explain. "It was just one time, and I didn't even mean for it to happen, things just …"

"Got out of hand," the older woman supplied, her lack of emotion implying that she'd heard it all before. "So the act was consensual. Did you use protection?"

Manny faltered. "N – no. We were a little, um … we weren't really prepared."

"I see." Dr. Ames scribbled something illegible in her notes and eyed Manny over the rims of her glasses. "And how late is your period?"

"Three weeks. I should've gotten it right after we … Craig and I … did … um. What we did."

Manny wanted to curl up in her chair and die. Saying it out loud made the night she and Craig had shared seem … tawdry, foolish somehow. Mentally reliving it made her heart ache as her abdomen hadn't in weeks.

"We weren't just being stupid teenagers," she burst out. She was suddenly desperate for this woman, this absolute stranger, to understand. "Or I wasn't, at least. I mean, I was, but I … I really love him. He loves me, too, he just … he's just confused. He needs time."

"Okay." Dr. Ames set her notes aside and stood. "That's enough, Manny. I'm just going to run a few tests and then we'll see how things go, okay?"

"Um. Doctor? How long will it take until we … until I … know?"

The woman paused in her preparations and laid a comforting hand on Manny's shoulder. "Getting the results won't take long, Manny. My secretary will probably phone you by the end of the week."

Nodding, Manny took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and waited to learn what the future, already decided, held in store for her.

Now, a week later, her cell phone rang shrilly as she let herself in the door from school. Dropping her bag on the kitchen counter, she kissed her mother's cheek distractedly as she answered, "Hello?"

"Hello, I'm calling for Manuela Santos, please."

"This is she," Manny answered, frowning. She was never referred to as Manuela. "Who's calling?"

"This is Debbie, from the clinic. You met with Dr. Ames here last week?"

"Oh." Her stomach clenching with nerves, Manny turned her back on her mother, making her way to her bedroom and locking the door. "I guess that means …"

"That I'm calling to inform you about the results of your test, yes."

Manny wanted more than anything just to say she had no idea what this woman was talking about and hang up the phone. She wished she'd never gone to the stupid clinic. She wished that whatever Debbie was about to say wouldn't matter, that it just wouldn't even affect her one way or the other.

"Manuela, are you still with me?"

"Y – yes," Manny stuttered. Deep breaths, she coached herself. "Yes. Okay. I'm here. I'm ready."

Debbie waited another moment just to be sure before breaking the news. "Manuela … the test confirmed that you are, indeed, pregnant."

"I … I … I'm what?"

"Pregnant, dear. Congratulations."

The dial tone sounded, but Manny couldn't register it with the woman's life-changing words echoing in her ears. She was pregnant. Pregnant. Her, Manny Santos, who was going to be a famous singer and marry Craig and live happily ever after.

Pregnant. What the hell was she going to do?"

XXX

Jimmy wasn't surprised to find his parents waiting in the private hospital room they'd secured for him. He supposed he should have felt comforted by their presence, but instead it made him queasy and claustrophobic.

"How's he doing, Doctor?" his father questioned, the words out of his mouth before Dr. Bedingfield had finished easing the door shut. "Any progress?"

The doctor's lips quirked upwards. "In the thirty minutes since we last discussed his progress? I'm afraid there's been no change, Arthur."

Jimmy coughed into his hand to hide his grin. His father's constant need for updates irritated him to no end, but he couldn't quite find the heart to tell the man off. Or maybe it was the nerve he was missing – after all, when Jimmy stood, he and Arthur were eye to eye, but from his new vantage point, they were hardly on equal ground.

"Jimmy? Are you okay?" His mother went immediately to his side, hands flitting anxiously about. "That cough doesn't sound very good."

"Fine, I'm fine," he assured her. "Something was in my throat, that's all."

Reading the situation perfectly, Dr. Bedengfield stepped in. "Uh, Arthur, Grace, I wonder if I couldn't get a moment alone with Jimmy. We have a few matters to discuss … in private."

Arthur bristled at that. "What could you possibly have to say to our son that we couldn't be here for?"

"I'd like to go over Jimmy's options with him again," Dr. Bedengfield continued smoothly, "And as Dr. Stevenson assures me that he is in a much better state of mind, I can't think of a more perfect time to do it."

Grace looked hopeful for the first time in the week since Jimmy had been brought in. "He's really doing better?"

"Absolutely," Dr. Bedengfield promised, ushering both of them out the door. "We'll just discuss a few details and be with you momentarily. In the meantime, I'm concerned that you two aren't taking care of yourselves, why don't you head down to the cafeteria and grab something to eat? This won't take long."

"You're my hero," Jimmy declared as soon as his parents were out of earshot. "Really."

"Oh, parents are easy," Dr. Bedengfield confided. "You can tell them what they want to hear and make them disappear, at least temporarily. Patients … patients are more difficult." He eyed Jimmy seriously. "Even though you want to tell them everything will be fine, that's not always a possibility."

Jimmy swallowed. "Nice segue. What're you saying, Doc?"

"Your test results came back, Jimmy, and I'm not gonna mince words with you, you've got … you've got a hard time ahead of you. With the extent of the damage done to your lower body, it'll be almost impossible to make a full recovery."

"You telling me I won't play ball again? Is that it?" Jimmy fought against the tide of rage he felt sweeping through him, trying to stay calm. He hated the look of pity in the doctor's eyes. "No NBA in my future?"

"Jimmy. What I'm trying to say is … you may never walk again."