AN: Angst. I write it a lot. I write it pretty well. This is some of it. Short but really, thinking clearly right now, Fitz is not.

Warnings: Anyone who's stuck around this long, after everythin that happened in 7, should know what to expect.

Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi.

Chapter Eight

Answer the Question

What. Did. I. Do.

The thought runs rampant, repeats over and over again.

What did I do?

It's the only thought.

What did I do?

Fitz stares down at Eli, bloody and bruised and bare, and he can't breathe. Can't move or speak.

Eli groans and the sound, so vulnerable and weak, spurs Fitz into action. He hastily pulls up their pants, but doesn't bother with Eli's belt. He's wasted enough time and, oh god, this is all his fault.

What did I do?

"Help!" He screams, scooping the semi-conscious boy into his arms and running.

What did I do?

"Somebody help me!" He cries, voice desperate and panicked, as the street comes into view and the alley fades away. "Oh, God, somebody! Help!"

Suddenly, there are people there. People calling 911. People asking questions Fitz can't answer, or won't. People with hands on Eli. His throat, his wrist. And none of these people will tell Fitz the only thing he wants to hear: he's okay, he's going to be okay.

What did I do?

Sirens can be heard echoing in the distance, and years spent running at the first sign of cops has Fitz backing away from the crowd and scouting for exit points. But then Eli moans again, pitiful and hurt because of him, and Fitz can't go. Can't leave him here, alone.

What did I do?

The ambulance arrives with paramedic who ask more questions doesn't have the answers to, or simply can't say. They still won't tell him Eli's okay. And now he's on a gurney, black clothes and dark hair juxtaposed against white sheets. They load him up and Fitz wants to follow, to make them tell him that Eli'll be okay. But he's not sure he will be, and Fitz doesn't want to know if he won't.

What did I do?

The constant, nagging question he already has the answer to. He wishes he didn't. Wishes didn't know. Wishes it hadn't happened.

What did I do?

The question, endless, is now a demand. Admit it, it screams in silence. Say it. Confess.

What did I do?

"I raped him..." the words are scarcely a whisper and barely reach his own ears, but they're enough. The Truth. Undeniable. Irrefutable. He raped him.

He raped Eli.

And he's running now. Away, to somewhere else. Anywhere. Any place that isn't here.