Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi: The Next Generation. I also do not own "Ashes to Ashes" by David Bowie which this fic is named after.

Warnings: Rated PG-13 for alcohol use, references to alcohol, language, mild sexuality, and thematic elements. This also contains major spoilers from Time Stands Still part two and Back in Black as well as a minor one from Neutron Dance.

A/N: I dub this my most random piece of fanfiction yet. This takes place in an alternate universe after Back in Black and contains one of the most bizarre and unconventional couplings I've ever thought of. I give much thanks to my good pal, Aubrey, for encouraging me to write this. Also if you're weary about controversial and unconventional relationships, feel free to press your back button at any time.

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There's that old saying about how there's always this light at the end of the tunnel. But where does that light come from? Is there someone at the end of the tunnel holding it all the time and waiting for you to get to the end of the tunnel? Is there a switch keeps the light on at the end of the tunnel? And what happens if the light flickers out and dies? But in essence, none of these questions really matter because it's only an optimistic saying that someone created so that you'll keep on going. And there are times like this where I honestly know why people call me paranoid and anal retentive. Or they did, anyway.

Over the summer, I went through my own metamorphosis similar to that of caterpillar to a monarch butterfly. My old morals and ideals were burned and only the ashes remained. The ashes weren't able to be rebuilt into the morals and ideals that I lived by. I was suddenly the epitome of everything I once loathed with a burning passion and protested. The fire burned quicker and roared as it ate up the pieces of Emma Nelson that everyone either treasured or was seriously annoyed with. What was left was an empty shell of a vapid and superficial girl who cared too much about whether some girl who was deemed nerdy by the student body went out with her ex-boyfriend. I was a drone and a soldier in the army of the masses known as the teenage girls. I was constantly a bitch to all of my peers as my holier than thou attitude caused them to coil back and ask themselves, "What ever happened to Emma Nelson?"

No one can answer that question. I can't even answer that question which makes matters worse considering the fact that I am Emma Nelson. But as I sit in a car that's the same color as that turtle I researched for a seventh grade project, I don't feel like Emma Nelson. There's no other explanation. I don't feel like the person I once was or even feel like I have the remnants of that person. I'm a stranger.

What doesn't help is the cloud of guilt draped way above my head, ready to rain depression down on me. I've always taken the world upon my shoulders and tried to balance it as I went through life. But that feeling was uplifting and invigorating. That feeling motivated me to do things to enrich the lives of others. But this feeling is another story. This feeling yearns to be pushed away so I don't acknowledge, but by doing that I plunge into another sea of pain. It's a lose-lose situation, something I tried never to get myself into. There was always that light at the end of the tunnel. There was always that hope or salvation waiting for you. But now it leaves without as so much as a goodbye. Then you realize that you'll have to fend for yourself and turn your own light on. Coming from someone who is supposed to be the symbol of independence that thought is really depressing. Because if you control your own fate, what happens when you mess up? So really, being independent isn't impossible because you always have to depend on someone.

That's the place where he comes into the picture with his charm and his maturity which was something that lacked in the boys I dated over the years. Sean's immaturity and selfishness caused for the storm that shattered our relationship to the core. However, he temporarily redeemed himself before leaving me when he shouldn't have. Again, another moment where Sean Cameron cares more about his own welfare than others. Not that I entirely blame him, the guilt after what happened with Rick must have been too much for him to deal with. I don't exactly condone running away from your problems but in a way, I completely understand. Maybe I can even relate. And then the Chris saga is one that I want to sweep under the rug once and for all. Even though he was the rebound, why couldn't I have picked a better one? He was just an overplayed hip hop song that lacked any substance. He was a visual aid in how exactly I was losing my mind during my revenge spree against Sean. Maybe he cared about me at some point, I really don't know. To put up with my revenge spree against Sean could show that. I could never read Chris though. He was a language I never understood or really took the time to try to understand. I guess that explains why our relationship fell flat on its face because we both took time apart to realize just how doomed it was in the first place.

However, the new and third addition on the list of my boyfriends is one that came spontaneously. He was just ended up sweeping up the mess of me and since that point I've been completely sold. There's no explanation needed which is good considering I don't really have a plausible one. He came with a slight warning and with those subtle flirtations of his that reeled you in on a metal hook. It's hard for anyone with functioning senses to not get intoxicated by him. I mean, even me, the so-called prude princess was drawn to him as he lectured about subliminal messaging in the media or whatever Archie had him teach us. At the time, Manny was giggling to Liberty about how he was just adorable and Liberty rolled her eyes saying how it was illegal and just plain wrong. I guess the ashes that were once my morals were swept away by a breeze and are completely unreachable by me.

This whole ordeal seems to be one huge game that I'm either going to win or lose. Those are the only two options that are set in front of me. Winning and losing is so black and white. Winning has to be the white considering white is optimistic and bright just like that buzzing light at the end of the tunnel. Losing has to be black because that's what color that horrid tunnel is. I don't care if I win or lose, I just don't want this game to end. It's the only fresh breath of sanity swirling around in my lungs right now. But if I lose that breath, I lose my sanity. Therefore, in essence, if it ends, I lose. While the game is still in progress, I'm winning but there's no trophy in my hands.

"So, tonight was fun," He sighs as we park in front of my house. He's fully aware of the consequences but it only fazes him to a minor degree. It's around midnight on the weekend. I managed to con my parents into thinking I went to a party with Manny. The ashes of honesty that was burnt to a crisp have blown away.

I smile only slightly, "Yeah, it was."

It was fun not having Snake and my mother breathing down my neck and asking me if I'm okay before going to pay attention to their non-screw up of a child. It was fun not having to have the images of Sean being drenched in Rick's blood as Rick lay cold and limp on the floor of the school. It was fun not having a care in the world as we did whatever which just ended up being a complete blur in my mind. It was nice to have an escape from my poor grades, demanding parents, and supposed friends. Refreshing and relaxing, even.

The sounds of Oasis that had been radiating from his car stereo are quieted now as he turns to me with that weak trademark smirk plastered on his face. There could be something important that he's about to say or he could be tired of listening to the same damn CD that he always does in his car. Maybe this car is my own personal oasis where I can just forget my troubles and woes for a while. My life lately has been one constant cycle of disaster and relief. If the relief wasn't there, I'd probably be dangling from the cliff of sanity about to lose grip and freefall at any given second. Or I could have possibly already done that. Now there are only uncertain shades of gray in that tunnel with no definite black or white colors in it. I hate the unknown. The unknown is so dismal and pessimistic. Is it so wrong that I want answers to every question that I have?

"I really need to figure out how to block phone numbers because if Charli calls one more time, I'm going to need to get a restraining order," He says with a slight laugh though I honestly can't see why that's funny. I probably lost my sense of humor along with my sanity; it was a two for one deal.

Of course he can't tell the psychotic ex-girlfriend what's really going on. I completely understand why. The consequences of such actions are imbedded into the wrinkles of my brain. This isn't one of those cliché lifetime movies where I'm the young and deluded girlfriend and he's the older boyfriend fulfilling my needs so I don't spill our secret to the world. Honestly, neither of us probably wants to go to the top of the highest hill and confess our whole world. However, I'm still unclear of his motives. I try swimming around his waters but everything around me is murky. The mystery of Matt Oleander is both intriguing and frustrating. Each look that crawls up his face or word that spills from his mouth just drives me down the road of confusion even more. I wonder if he enjoys baffling me to such a great extent.

"I wouldn't go that extreme," I chime. "I mean, you could possibly have something of hers." I'm breaking the biggest rule. I'm undermining his authority. I can't help it though; it's the only part of me I salvaged after the fire. And now I'm undermining his authority as we have a conversation about his ex.

He shrugs, "Eh, possibly. But knowing her she would have broken in by now." Again, he chuckles and the situation still does not have an ounce of hilarity. I smile politely as I tug on the sleeves of my denim jacket idly.

"Yeah, well, don't worry about it," I advise and continue to undermine his authority. He gazes at me with those dark brown eyes that could easily be mistaken as being black. His eyes are one big pupil with a loop of white surrounding the pupil, almost as if someone dropped a black olive into a container of sour cream. I'm too busy drowning in my thoughts to realize that his lips are now placed onto mine. He tastes like a successful escape and that can of beer he downed back at his apartment as we listened to The Beatles and watched some movie from the eighties. He shouldn't have even taken the liberty to drive me home. I should have called a cab but I didn't bring money for a cab. He didn't have money for a cab because his money was being washed away on rent and cheap beer. I shouldn't have told his land lady two weeks ago that I was his sister when she came up to his apartment and reminded him about the rent. I shouldn't be decorating the passenger seat of his car and taste his stale alcohol laced breath as Oasis plays at a dull roar. And I shouldn't be named Emma Nelson because Emma Nelson would never commit such sins. But as Sunday comes over Canada and his headlights bathe the once pitch black road in light, I realize that Emma Nelson is lost and whoever I might be is lost as well. So I'm lost and he's just this puzzle that I'll never be able to put together. And if someone were to find out about this whole ordeal and ask me about it, I wouldn't be able to string the words together to give a valid explanation. For once, I wouldn't have an answer and that honestly terrifies me.