I'm tired of being what you want me to be
Feeling so faithless lost under the surface
Don't know what you're expecting of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)

Sean bit down hard on a pencil as he waited, once again outside Mr. Raditch's office. The last few weeks had been a crude attempt at flying under the radar, though hanging out with Jay Hogart and Towerz was like a walking advertisement for juvenile delinquency. He assumed Mr. Raditch was going to want to check his locker for stolen goods, but turnover time on everything they'd been stealing was fairly short-lived. Jay had a thing about holding on to hot items for too long. At least when he was with Jay and the gang he felt a part of something; regardless of how much trouble they were always in, there was a sense of belonging to something.

He just didn't feel like he belonged at home anymore.

He'd moved here with Tracker, because his big brother promised things would be different. No more late night visits from the police because the neighbors complained about the fights. No more cleaning up the morning after their mother passed out on the couch with a can of beer in her mouth and a cigarette in her hand, that thankfully didn't burn their trailer down. Tracker promised stability. And for a while, things were just that. And then Tracker had gotten a new job and he was barely home and it didn't even seem like he was making enough money for all the hours he was putting in. Which made things even harder when the school would call.

Sean's mind kept rolling through his thoughts, sometimes he felt like Tracker liked him better then he was with Emma. So when he and Emma broke up, it was like he was just disappointing Tracker a little bit more. Everything was just out of his control as things felt like he was in a car going downhill without any brakes. Thinking about the last few months just made him feel like a disaster of a brother, boyfriend, a human being? He hated that feeling because for the longest time he tried. And he tried so hard to be the perfect brother, boyfriend, perfect person but it didn't matter what he did, it was never right and it was never enough. All of these pent up feelings were probably things he should talk about with Tracker or someone.

Sean looked across the hall and watched as Ellie Nash began pacing outside Ms. Sauve's office. And as she paced he noticed that she was snapping a rubber band against her wrist and was subconsciously tugging her sleeves down as though a chill had breezed through the hallway despite it being a bit warm. He didn't know much about Ellie, she was just another face in the hallways. But he noticed her. What he did know... was of her. From rumors, he'd heard them over the months since she'd moved there. From her moonlighting as a vampire on the weekends to cutting herself. That rumor was interesting to him. Because it was how it started, and who had started it. Paige wasn't exactly a reliable narrator.

And he knew all about rumors. He heard what some of the teachers called him - thug, lazy, a delinquent. Yea they were rumors, but they were also true. Or at least that's how he felt most of the time. Might as well live up to his reputation.

"Sean, could you come into my office please?" Sean looked up as Mr. Raditch held his door open. Sean rolled his eyes as he slid the pencil behind his ear and slung his book bag over his shoulder and followed the principal into his office. He slumped down into the chair that faced the large oak desk and looked around the office. Not much had changed in the few weeks since he'd been there last. Same lame kitten hang in there poster and various knickknacks around the office, like the block that made sure it highlighted the pal part of principal that had been stamped on it.

" I'm worried about you Sean." Mr. Raditch said as Sean shifted his body language and sunk into the chair and crossed his arms, cocking his head as if to say,

"So?" Sean filled in the blank for his expression.

Mr. Raditch picked up the file on his desk and opened it up, "Your grades are dropping, you barely show up for class anymore. Your teachers have noticed you're barely turning in your assignments, the only positive reflection here is from Mr. Ehl, who speaks very highly of your work ethic in his class, something I wish you'd spread to your other studies." He stood in front of Sean and placed the folder on his desk, "When you're brother enrolled you here we made it clear that your past discretions in Wasaga Beach would not reflect how you'd be treated. You got a fresh slate."

Sean shifted uncomfortably in the chair, "So?" he grumbled.

"And you took to it when you started here, you were thriving in classes, making friends -" Mr. Raditch paused, "you joined the wrestling team, Coach Armstrong said you a natural talent and I thought wrestling was a great outlet for whatever you've got going on."

"What I've got going on?" Sean angrily asked.

Mr. Raditch sighed. "All I'm saying is Sean - I want you to graduate on time. You were already held back because of the time you missed transferring in late and I don't want to hold you back another year." Mr. Raditch looked down at Sean with concern, and it was something Sean wasn't used to seeing from the adults in his life, "I don't want to see you falling back into old behaviors with the company you keep."

"You mean Jay Hogart."

"Yes, I mean Jay Hogart - you and your friends are being accused of being responsible for the various thefts on school property the last few weeks, not limited to but including stealing Mr. Simpson's personal laptop."

"And?"

"And Sean - - stealing is a serious offense, you could be placed on probation, sent to the juvenile detention center," Mr. Raditch began listing off consequences.

"I'm already on probation."

Mr. Raditch sighed again. This is what he signed up for when he took the job as a principal. "Sean, this is serious, I suggest you pull your act together, and real soon." pulled out a detention slip and began to fill it out. " You have detention with me on Wednesday, and we can discuss you're part with your little gang and the missing school equipment."

Sean pressed his lips together in anger and stood up, snatching the detention slip from the principal's hand and walked out of the office, slamming the door behind him. He didn't even bother to look at the slip and just crumpled it up and tossed it in the garbage.

"How's the work study going?" Ms. Sauve asked.

"Fine," Ellie answered.

Ms. Sauve nodded and jotted down a note.

Ellie had to wonder what it was she was always writing down, even when she gave the vaguest of answers; it always seemed like she was taking a test that wasn't prepared for.

"So how are you doing since your father's latest deployment?"

Ellie slowly breathed in and let it out, "fine." She didn't want to talk about it.

"You don't want to talk about it?" Ms. Sauve asked, "you seemed anxious last week after he called."

"Well it doesn't get any easier," Ellie snapped, "But I've been doing this for a long time, I manage."

Ms. Sauve nodded, and made another note, "you manage it?" she asked for clarification.

"Yea."

"It sounds like you're pretty much running the house when he's gone," she suggested, "how does your mom handle it."

"You'd have to ask her," Ellie shrugged. Ms. Sauve was prying on a subject that Ellie was not willing to divulge.

"Would you be willing to have her come in to discuss it?"

"Not really," she said, suddenly finding the chair uncomfortable.

"I see."

Another note.

Ellie sighed. "what do you write down anyways?"

Ms. Sauve turned her notebook around and handed it to her. "Nothing you haven't said." she replied, "you just seem to have a lot going on and I want to track your progress."

"You think I'm doing well?"

"I think you're making progress," she answered, bringing the notebook back into her lap, "I think you carry a lot of weight on your shoulders and it's your choice about what we chip away at to relieve that pressure. I'm not going to press you any harder than you're willing to let me, but I want to help Ellie."

"A lot of people think they're helping," Ellie commented, referring to her interaction with Paige.

"like Paige."

"Paige cares about you," Ms. Sauve said.

"Paige..." Ellie struggled to find the words, "Paige cares about herself, so when she shows any kind of empathy towards someone else it feels foreign. It's hard to trust someone who has already spread the rumor about how she saved me."

Ms. Sauve nodded, with a sense of understanding.

"I appreciate what she did - but that's where my relationship with Paige ends."

"I'm not telling you to be friends with Paige," she mentioned. "But I can see why you feel frustrated." Ms. Sauve glanced at the clock and they were running late by ten minutes. "Look, I know you've got to rush off to your work study at the station, and I don't want to keep you any longer. I'm willing to listen anytime you want to get something off your chest, whether it's a frustrating class or trouble with friends or trouble at home. I'm here."

Ellie nodded and grabbed her bag off the floor and swung it over her shoulder, "thanks."

Ms. Sauve had to wonder if it was genuine, but there was a look in Ellie's eyes that she seemed to appreciate it. Even the way she carried herself after she left the office made it seem like there was a little less weighing her down, at least right now.

Ellie rushed out of the office. Therapy was a struggle for her - opening up and talking was a foreign concept to her and while she was frustrated by the entire situation she was grateful for having an outlet that didn't leave her with scars on her arm. She wished she could talk about it without looking crazy. But that's what she felt crazy; crazy for coping with stress and frustration by making herself feel something. There was a strange release of oxytocin and dopamine that she controlled. And she became addicted to that feeling. How could she possibly explain that when she cut, there was a feeling of release of all that pressure of things she couldn't control. She had read somewhere of First Nations tribes that used to cut themselves or used body modification as ways to express themselves or as rights of passage to promote healing. How could she explain to anyone that it was her way of controlling her pain and healing from it?

Ellie was lost in her own thoughts as she rushed down the hall and didn't even realize Sean was on his own warpath as he barreled out of Mr. Raditch's office. There was a collision. Ellie tumbled backward, her bag sliding across the cold tile and the contents spilling across the hall. She scrambled to begin collecting her stuff when Sean's hand appeared in front of her face as an offering to help her to her feet. Ellie sighed and reached up and Sean grabbed her arm and pulled her up. She cringed as Sean's tight, forceful grip pulled her up and at the same time gripped her still healing cuts.

Sean tilted his head in curiosity as Ellie tugged her arm back the moment she was on her feet. There was a look in her eyes that screamed pain, but she remained expressionless on the outside, it was a look that Sean had mastered. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yea just peachy," she answered, snatching a notebook away from Sean as he picked it up.

Sean stepped back and held his hands up, "don't worry, not gonna steal it," he muttered.

"Didn't know that was a thing," Ellie started to pick things up and Sean bent down to help her, noticing the stain bleeding through her wrist warmer, "I got it," she said as she noticed him watching her arm with concern and begin picking up her pens and pencils before they rolled down the hallway.

Sean stood up in defeat, "whatever," he grumbled, "just make sure you clean that up," he said and motioned towards her arm. She glanced down and saw her wrist warmer slowly becoming stained with blood.

"Thanks," she said softly as she hung her head.

"Stressed?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Why are you cutting?" Sean clarified.

"I don't think that's any of your business."

"It's not like people don't know," he said, referring to the rumors.

"And it's not any of their business either," she said.

Sean nodded. "Whatever... was just gonna say it shows you're tougher than you look, getting help and all," he nodded towards the guidance office.

Ellie shrugged.

"You okay?"

"Yea," Ellie answered as they started to walk in tandem down the hallway, "the day can't really get any worse."

Sean laughed, "definitely can say that again."

"Get caught stealing from the vending machines again?" she asked coyly.

"That's my problem," he said laughing to himself, "they can't prove it and I'm still on the hook for it."

Ellie rolled her eyes at his nonchalant behavior over his criminal activities. Everyone knew they were more than rumors, Sean and his friends just haven't been caught. "Why do you steal stuff anyways?" she asked.

"Why do you cut yourself?" he asked again.

Ellie nodded, "touche."

"Money mostly," he answered as they reached the door, "the thrill of getting away with it though is addicting," as he opened it for her.

"A lot of things," Ellie confessed to his own confession - and walked through the door as he held it open.

Sean nodded, "I get it," he said, "I have a lot of things too."

Ellie looked at him and began rocking back and forth on her feet, "I uh..." she began pointing down the street.

"Yea, me too," Sean said.

"Cool," Ellie answered and turned and began shuffling her feet along down the street and looked back at Sean for a moment; just barely missing his gaze as she watched his retreating form walking in the opposite direction. Sean turned around, barely missing Ellie's eyes watching him.

Author's Note: I started this fic back in the winter of 2003 based solely on episodes up until Whisper to a Scream and then the promo pics of Sean and Ellie as a couple from the official website. As of 06-22-2020 I decided in order to finish the third and final fic in the trilogy would be to go back to the beginning and give you the fic that you all deserve that wasn't scribbled in the back of my history notebook during my senior year of high school and typed up on the computers in study hall. Also it's an opportunity for me to slowly correct some plot holes I have been wanting to fix for a while. I know it's not exactly my 10k word minimum I started to give myself for the sequels but it's more fleshed out than some of the original work.