Title: the ventriloquist act
Character/Pairing: Derek/Casey, Sam/Casey, Ralph/Casey.
Rating: T
Summary: A 'what if' story. Derek runs away to Vancouver with Sally, and Casey has to deal with all the things they left unsaid. Part 1/8.

—

He's been quiet the past week, ever since they tried to convince him to stay and failed. She spends seven days cleaning everything in the house twice over and only stops when he comes out of his room to see her scrubbing the coffee table for the third time and pries the washcloth out of her hand.

"Casey, you freak," he says, looking at her wrinkled palms. "I knew you were a psycho, but this extreme, even for you."

He sits her on the couch and makes her watch hockey playoffs with him for three hours. By the time it's over, there are chips all over the floor and her skin still tingles where his fingers closed over her wrist.

That was Monday.

—

Tuesday goes something like this:

They argue over who's driving home on the way to school, then try to shove each other into puddles while crossing the parking lot. There's mud on her shin and the bottoms of his jeans are soaked by the time they make it to her locker. Emily waves at them both, and Casey ducks behind her locker door when Truman turns the corner.

"You can't avoid him forever," Derek says, behind her. She can hear the smirk in his voice.

"No," she goes, pulling out her books. "But I can try."

"No offense, Case," his arms comes around her and shuts the locker as she faces him. She pretends her breathing doesn't hitch just a little, that he isn't leaning a little too close. "But you aren't exactly the Queen of All Things Stealthy."

"I'll have you know that I've moved past wearing blond wigs and sunglasses indoors, thanks." She hugs her books tighter when he looks at her in that lazily appraising way of his. "What?"

"I was just wondering if you were planning on spying on any more of my dates."

She snorts. "Depends. Would you mind?"

The bell rings. He winks at her and lets his fingers brush her side, lingering longer than necessary. "Not really," he says, and that's the last time she sees him.

—

Tuesday night and all of Wednesday consist of a lot of frantic phone calls to friends and extended family and ex-girlfriends and hockey teammates. George is hysterical in that awkward, clumsy way of his as her mom struggles to keep them both together. Edwin locks himself in his room, and doesn't speak to anyone. Marti cries a lot and hides in her fort – Casey convinces her to eat something at around four, and then they both sit and Marti sobs against her shoulder while she stares at Derek's bedroom door.

Lizzie is the only one level-headed enough to go, "Why doesn't somebody just call his cell?"

They do, but it's off. Casey goes to bed with a knot in her stomach.

She wakes up Thursday with a new voicemail.

"Hey, Case, it's me. I'm in Vancouver; or on my way, at least. I think you already knew this was going to happen – that's why you went crazy and started cleaning everything, right? Anyways, let everyone know I'm fine and that I'll visit for Christmas or something before Dad has a heart attack. Tell Smarti I'll call her when I get a cell phone plan that doesn't suck ass, and, uh, don't let Edwin get too full of himself.

Yeah, so, uh, that's it, I guess. Vancouver, for the record, looks exactly like Toronto, only with more prostitutes and trees. I don't see why Sally wanted to come out here to begin with.

…

Case, I'm sor—"

The message ends, and Casey, for once, is glad.

(For the record, she doesn't start crying then, or barricade herself in the bathroom. That comes later, after his seventh secret voicemail that he doesn't want anyone to know about, where he tells her Sally is being a passive aggressive bitch again and I'm kind of sick of it and give Smarti a hug from me, okay? And I think I might miss y—

The message doesn't end there, but Casey turns off her cell before he can finish and hides in his room for hours. When George comes up to see if she's alright, she asks if she can get a new cell phone number.)