Author's Note: This idea came to me when I heard Lee Ann Womack's song, Last Call and it just had to be written, so enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Life with Derek or the song Last Call.

Almost every night he called her looking for a ride home from the bar, frankly, she was sick of it. Every time there would be the strong smell whiskey on his breath.

She loved him but she hated the way he would come home drunk after hanging out with his friends. She hated the way he way slowly killing himself but she would always come get him no matter what.

This time she wasn't going to. His number flashed on her caller ID but she ignored it, letting it go straight to voicemail. She contemplated going to the bar just to make sure he got home okay but she shook the thought. He had to know she wouldn't always be there so she sat by window and read her book.

Twenty-five minutes later her phone rang again. She went to pick it up but it was a different number, "hello," she said warily, wondering who would be calling at this time of the night.

"Is this Casey McDonald," the male voice said, sounding sympathetic.

"Y-yes," she said nervously.

"I'm afraid there has been an accident, your boyfriend, Mr. Venturi," he said.

"Oh god," Casey cried, her eyes filling up with tears. It felt like everything around her was crashing down, like the world had suddenly stopped and she was the only thing moving.

Casey drove as fast as the speed limit would allow to the hospital. Derek was hit by a drunk driver and that Derek wasn't the one under the influence of alcohol. The only thing running through her mind at the time was that he wasn't the one that was drunk.

Her mom and George were already there along with Lizzie, Marti and Edwin. "Any change," she asked trying not to break down in the middle of the waiting room.

"No," George answered, his eyes were glassy and red, "not since he arrived."

It felt like hours in that quite waiting room, while the doctors worked. Phones rang and people were talking all around but to Casey it was just a faint buzzing. The only thing that was going through her mind was the fact that this might not have happened if she just answered that damn phone.

"Venturi – McDonald," a doctor said, coming out of a nearby room, they all looked up at him hoping for good news, "I'm so sorry, we did the best we could," he said, in a soft voice.

Casey was still, she couldn't talk, couldn't move. The only thing that showed she wasn't a statue was the fact that tears were falling heavily down her face. Inside she was freaking out all she could think was he's gone, over and over again.

Her mother wrapped her arms around her pulling her close, "he's gone, it's all my fault. Why didn't I answer the phone," Casey cried, her mother was rocking her back and forth trying to calm her down.

"Casey, it's not your fault," her Nora said, her voice cracking. Casey didn't listen her world was crumbling all around her, the man she loved was gone and never coming back.

The funeral came and went, Casey cried the whole time. She tried not to but they kept coming, she knew he hated tears especially hers. Derek was buried with his Hockey Stick. A lot of people came to show their respect for the late great Derek Venturi.

When it was over Casey went back to the apartment, for the first time since she received the call about the accident. She walked in the door and her eyes immediately looked at the flashing red light on her answering machine, his last call. She walked over and pressed play, she needed to hear his voice again and she broke down when she did.

"Hey Case, look, I'm sorry for the way I've been acting lately and I promise I'm gonna' change. I mean it this time. I don't want to lose you, case. So you don't have to pick me up tonight, I love you, always remember that, Casey, bye."

-------------------------------------- imagine the rest of this line.

So tell me what you think, I was going to write an alternate ending to this but I wasn't really sure. Oh well, hoped you liked it. Sorry for any grammar and spelling mistakes. Constructive criticism is appreciated.

Victoria.