Title: Proxy
Summary: Those closest to us are absolutely incapable of deceit or betrayal. We know that. That is, until the cold, hard truth is staring us in the face. When a friend does the unthinkable, how can you trust him—or yourself—ever again? And if the person wronged can no longer stand up for herself, will you take her place? Rated for suggestive adult themes and language.
A/N: This was written for therapeutic reasons, so it is raw and un-beta'd. Also, I refuse to classify Casey's behavior as OOC. That would completely invalidate my reason for writing this.
"Betrayal can only happen if you love." –John Le Carre
---
He had only passed her on the stairs a few times. He would nod and she would smile. It wasn't until the day that she bounced past him with a cheerful "Good morning" that he decided to ask Casey about her. Casey shrugged it off. She was a good friend.
Raph knew why Casey wouldn't look him in the eye when he said that: the elephant in the room. April had only been gone three years. They all missed her like crazy, Casey even more so. Raph knew that Casey was lonely; he saw it everyday. And he worried everyday. But whenever Raph came to visit after this new woman left, he found his old pal Casey waiting for him. If only for a few minutes, he was the goofball best friend that Raph had lost three years ago. It was wonderful.
Even though Casey could never love anyone like he had loved April, it would be good to find someone that could make him happy. Raph told him all of this. Casey just shrugged.
---
The night's icy rain dripped from his clothes as Raph took the steps two at a time. He was going to arrive a few minutes early for once in his life. He hit the landing and was about to throw open the door when he realized that the apartment was dark. He slipped in quietly, and an uneasiness in his gut stifled his greeting. He crept toward the living room and the television's glow.
On the coffee table was a condom wrapper. And on the screen was the latest foreign porn flick. A soft rustling came from the bedroom down the hall.
He shouldn't be there. He headed for the door.
"You've gotta get out of here. Raph'll be here any minute," Casey's muffled voice came from the bedroom and halted Raph's retreat. Curiosity trumped intrusion, if only for a moment.
"Fine," the woman mock-pouted. The sound of another hot, prolonged kiss that Raph imagined with guilty conscience, and then the words "You're still paying the full amount" ripped his assumptions apart.
'The full amount.'
Cold realization seeped through his mind like slow poison. He couldn't see straight. He could hardly breathe. But some functioning part of his mind willed his body forward, to the overlooked wallet on the coffee table. It contained a five, some ones, and a few very out-of-place hundred-dollar bills. Raph crushed the nylon wallet in his fist and stood, heading for the bedroom.
Happy, laughing faces watched him from pictures lining the unlit hallway. Everything from Casey and April's life together, from the engagement to their 7th wedding anniversary, was nailed to that wall. Their love had always been something to marvel at, right up to the end. Even at the hospitals and the failed treatments, with the whispered prayers and the miracles that never came. It was always there, a constant even in the lives of those who only witnessed it. It had seemed indestructible, even after death.
Raph stopped beyond the bedroom door. His fingernails bit into the palm of his empty hand. Old memories and familiar faces beared down on him from all sides. Their frozen smiles and blind eyes held a malicious expectancy. The weight of it held him down, smothered his voice and bound his feet. Nothing stirred except the stale air in his lungs and the slow pounding of his heart.
A shadow passed beneath the door, and the knob turned. The truth couldn't be defused. He braced for impact.
"Shit, Raph?!" Now his best friend stood before him, wide-eyed and barely clothed.
Raph wanted to leave, but he didn't budge. He stared though he could hardly stand it. His body responded where his mind recoiled.
"Raph, don't look at me like that. You don't understand."
The wallet thudded at the feet of April's widowed husband. Silence.
Raph teetered on the edge of an impossible abyss. The silence alone almost drove him over.
"Casey? What's going on?" It was that woman. At her words the man's face changed, something unaggressive but absolutely terrifying.
"Everything's fine. Don't worry about it, babe."
And Raph's body lashed out, and his mind withdrew completely. And the abyss rose up to meet him.
---
When he awoke, Raph found himself across town in an old drainage pipe. The pale light of dawn fell upon his bloodied, aching knuckles. He crushed his hands together, unsure of whether he meant to cause or stop the pain. Last night skulked on the edges of his memory. Everything seemed so much worse in the light. He shut his eyes again.
In moments the phone beside him sprang to life. The familiar ring tone had Raph lunging for the key that glowed red through a film of dried blood. Ignore.
He leaned back again, shell scraping against damp cement. The pounding in his ears slowed, the phone was dark and silent once more. But the breach had been made, and the memories flooded in. He saw that familiar hallway once more. The phone in his hand became the tell-tale wallet. As it arched through the air to land at Casey's feet, time slowed. And as Casey's features morphed into that last terrifying look, Raph's fear threatened to rip him apart. He silently pleaded, begged Casey to stop. But there it was, locked in place.
Guilt without remorse.
He wasn't sorry for what he had done.
"Everything's fine."
He was sorry he had been caught.
"Don't worry about it, babe."
And Raph had struck, again and again, for the true love lost and at the man who put his purchased love on the same pedestal. At the friend that had hardly defended himself, even as he broke and bled.
Raph pried his fingers off of the phone and opened it. Nine missed calls. Nine new voicemails. With both hands he entered his passcode and methodically skipped all nine voicemails. He had only one saved message. According to the timestamp it would soon be four years old. A shaking hand brought the phone to his ear as April greeted him from the other side. She sounded completely worn out. The message must have been left after one of her first chemo sessions. Raph choked down the bile and focused on her words. Thanks for being there for Casey through all of this. Such a good friend. Casey needs you now. Love. Casey. Her message boiled down to a congealed mess of her love for a man that he couldn't bear to think about.
He wanted to believe that it all sprang from desperation and loneliness, that nothing came from hunger or desire. A moment of weakness and not an inherent defect. But when Raph remembered Casey's face, his words, the truth seemed obvious and all the more incomprehensible.
It felt so much like cheating, but she was dead. He didn't understand. Couldn't understand.
Raph pressed another key, and the message began again. Each repetition renewed silent tears. He sat and listened until the sunlight crept too near. Then he retreated into the darkness.