Ok people, just something that popped into my head. I own nothing, all characters belong to LWD.


Casey stared at the screen, watching an early edit sent over by the director, which had arrived by post that morning. They had wrapped up the movie 6 weeks before, and she'd been able to think of nothing else ever since. She was transfixed by her 2-dimensional self - the girl's eyes were sparkling and she was grinning up at her co-star as though he were her knight in shining armour. A shiver involuntarily ran up her spine as she remembered when she'd stopped thinking of Tim Steel as her friend, and started knowing him as a base, instinctive male.

"Coming for a drink, Case? It IS the last day of filming tomorrow, and we did our last scene together today. I'll be going back to LA in a couple of days time" Tim tried to cajole Casey into joining him for a drink, as he had every night for the last two weeks. Normally, Casey declined, saying she had to prepare for the next day, but today she figured it couldn't hurt. After all, Tim was right- it WAS their last night before filming wrapped.

She'd thought it had been lots of them going for a drink, all their co-stars, but when she'd arrived at the bar, it was just Tim, sitting there with a smug, cat-who's-got-the-cream smirk that was nowhere near as endearing as the smirk worn by her step-brother, Derek.

Casey, being Casey, had had one glass of red wine, then stuck to soda all evening – after all, she still had scenes to shoot the next day – but after they'd been there about an hour, and she was looking for a reason to leave, even for a few minutes, she'd excused herself from the (one-sided) conversation and gone to the bathroom. She felt grateful for even those few minutes of peace, not having to hear about all of Tim's MANY achievements. When she got back to her seat, Tim apologised – he knew he'd been talking about himself, and he was sorry. They started talking about more neutral topics. Casey had finished her soda and said she was going to go back to her hotel, it was getting late. As she'd stood up to leave, she'd gone dizzy and had to sit back down again. Tim had been the epitome of concern, even offering to pay for a cab home for her, but she insisted all she needed was fresh air. When Tim offered to walk her, she refused, but not very strongly. After all, she could barely walk straight – it made sense to have someone looking out for her when she was in that condition.

As they'd walked few blocks to Casey's hotel, she'd started to feel more and more ill, until it was all she could do not to crawl on her hands and knees. She remembered Tim saying that all she needed was to sleep; she didn't disagree.

After that, everything had been a blur, which Casey had heard said before, but thought it such a cliché, it couldn't be true. She was wrong.

All she knew for definite when she awoke that something was wrong. She supposed the wine had affected her more than she'd thought, until she'd got to work and seen Tim. The flashback had hit her like a punch in the stomach, and she was physically sick as soon as she got to the bathroom. To make things worse, the director told her that the pivotal moment in the film – their big reunion – had sound issues, and they needed to re-shoot it. Casey had no idea how she'd managed not to throw up the entire duration of the extra shoot, but somehow she'd managed it. As soon as the scene was finished, she'd said very hurried goodbyes and got a taxi to the airport. She was so thankful she'd cleared her part of the trailer the day before.

In the 6 weeks that had past, Casey had done little else but sit at home on the sofa, staring at the wall. She spoke to her mother once a week, to allay any suspicions Nora fostered about her eldest daughter's ability to take care of herself. She ate when she was hungry, but only food that didn't require a great deal of preparation. Most of the time she just sat, wishing she had the courage to tell someone of her suspicions, but knowing that no one would believe her. She knew she wasn't living, merely existing, but at least she was existing. In time, she knew that she'd be able to put all this behind her, not think about it anymore, except as something that happened to her, once.

She was getting almost used to her little routine, almost beginning to find comfort in the benign existence she led, almost beginning to realise that she could move on from this, when the ball dropped and she realised that she hadn't even hit rock bottom yet, let alone started to crawl out of the hole.

She was getting cold noodles from the fridge when she caught sight of the calendar hanging next to it. A Big red circle caught her eye – as did the fact that the big red circle was on a day that had been and gone – 4 weeks ago.

Casey's fragile mind at first couldn't work out what was wrong, what was niggling her, and then suddenly a rush of realisation hit her so hard that she gasped as though she'd been physically punched. Then her world went dark as she collapsed into a heap on the floor, unconscious.