Disclaimer: Dora the Explorer must die a horrible painful death...

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Chapter 7: Not Listening

Jimmy didn't even wait for the Hover Car to land properly; as soon as it was a safe distance from the ground, guaranteeing that he wouldn't break his neck when he landed, he jumped, his legs staggering from impact. Ignoring the small shockwaves rippling up his legs, Jimmy took off into the woods.

"Sheen! Sheen, where are you? Sheen!"

There was a desperate edge in Jimmy's voice now, a desperate fear that clutched at his belly and tore at his heart as if it had claws, for he feared that now that he seemed to close, Sheen would be lost, would somehow sense him coming and pull the trigger…

NO! Don't think like that!

Jimmy didn't even know where he was running, couldn't see through the thick shadows of the trees, letting instinct alone guide him, because now that was all he had. His intelligence couldn't help now; nothing could help him now, except for the desperate hope that despite what he believed, miracles did indeed happen.

"Sheen!"

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Jimmy burst from the trees, nearly lost his balance, but managed to keep himself from falling. His legs trembled from pushing through bushes and trees, and he was panting, but at the sight of the tall figure in front of him, his fatigue was forgotten. "Sheen!"

The boy froze for a moment, obviously shocked by Jimmy's voice; in a minute, though, his body relaxed, and he gestured loosely behind him with the gun. "What are you doing here, Jimmy?"

"Sheen! Put the gun down!"

"You can't make me, Jimmy." Normally, whenever Sheen had uttered a sentence like this, there was usually a teasing, playful note to it that made Jimmy grind his teeth in frustration, but made him smile a little to. Now Sheen's voice was dull, as though the spark it usually carried had been put out with a bucket of cold water.

"Sheen, come on," Jimmy whimpered. "You aren't thinking. Give me the gun. You don't want to do this."

"You don't know what I'm thinking, Jimmy."

"Sheen!" Jimmy fought the urge to cry. "Sheen, you don't have to do this! We can get help…"

"I don't need help, Jimmy. I know how to solve the problem."

"This isn't solving the problem, damn it! This is making it worse!"

Sheen glanced over his shoulder at Jimmy, his normally gentle, glowing brown eyes dark and dull. "I know how to solve the problem," he repeated. "I'm not listening to you anymore, Jimmy. I'm not listening." Slowly, he raised the gun to his head, resting the barrel against his temple.

"Sheen," Jimmy whispered pleadingly; he knew, in the back of his mind, that he should try to stop his friend, but he felt as though he was frozen, as though some unseen force had gripped his feet and kept him rooted to the ground now.

"You might want to look away, Jimmy. This is going to be messy."

Jimmy's eyes blurred with tears so that he couldn't see his friend. And still he couldn't move, fear gripping his chest, paralyzing him when he was needed the most, and he couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't breathe, could only stare in horror at his friend, at his friend about to end his life.

"I'm not listening," Sheen murmured softly. His grip on the trigger tightened.

"SHEEN!"

Jimmy gasped, and Sheen froze.

The voice was Libby's.

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Um... yeah. Behold my crappy confrontation scene!