There comes a time in everyone's lives when you have to take the consequences of your actions. You have to realise the mistakes you have made, dig yourself out of the sorry smelly mess you have sunk into and pack up and go home. Derek knew he had reached that point.

As far as everyone else was concerned his mess smelled a whole lot worse from the outside. They couldn't see the perfect sense his actions had made to him – still made to him. But even he had to admit he had reached the end of the line with his life plan. It was time to shred it and move on; time to move home.

He had no job; the latest dead end bar job had come to an end when some drugged up punk set fire to the rat-infested joint. No job meant no money so in two weeks he would have no home. Although using the term 'home' was giving the pit he lived in way too much glamour. To cap it all the lousy girl he had followed to this stinking god forsaken country three years ago still had absolutely no idea he was there. She didn't care.

She didn't know that it was for her he had jacked in his college education after a year, packed up his life in his rapidly disintegrating car and set off for LA.

His family thought he was crazy, his father was uncharacteristically apoplectic. His mother had shouted down the phone until his voicemail cut out. His step-mother, who was right up there in the 'love for my parents' stakes, had cried. Marti, they told him wasn't talking to him. She couldn't understand why he wouldn't come home to her. Lizzie tried to talk reasonably to him and gave up. Edwin, in self-absorbed teenage Venturi mode, told him what Derek was doing was so cool, and could he come stay for spring break? Robbie gurgled.

He didn't know what Casey thought of it, because Casey was on a different planet to him right now. He didn't doubt that she remembered her family, and she probably spoke to her mom once a week from some luxury hotel or another, but if anyone had told her about Derek it had never fed back to him, and she had never called.

Which was kind of tragic, because they lived in the same city.

Until now. Because now he was going to have to give up and go home. It felt like desertion. He had come here for a purpose and he couldn't fulfil that purpose any longer. He needed to eat. He needed a job and he needed a roof over his head he could afford. And the girl would just have to muddle along in life without her guardian angel. The angel she didn't even know was there.

He was sitting in a bar in a fairly rough part of town because that was the only type of place he could afford to drink these days. He was staring into his second beer of the evening and oozing 'stay the fuck away from me' vibes that were having the desired effect. He still looked like Derek, still dressed like Derek, still was Derek. But, right now he was anything but attractive.

His cell rang and he pulled it reluctantly from his brown leather jacket and examined the call display. It had rung three times in the past half an hour and each time it had been his father. Derek didn't want to talk to his father. There would be time enough for the lecture when the prodigal son returned home. So the three earlier times he had rejected the calls without answering.

This time it was Sam.

"Yo Sammy!" he said with mock enthusiasm. He was still close to his best friend, but as Sam was now a graduate and starting on what promised to be a good career path, it was strained between them. Sam felt uncomfortable around Derek as though it was his fault that his best friend had dropped out of college. Derek had told him repeatedly that it wasn't, but as he couldn't share the real reason for his decision, Sam had only half believed it.

"Derek. Your dad asked me to call you. Are you near a TV?" Sam said soberly. Derek felt a chill creeping towards him. He looked around frantically and then spotted the TV above the bar. He nodded to the barman.

"That thing work?" The barman shrugged and threw him the remote. Derek switched it on.

"What am I looking for?" he asked Sam.

"A news channel."

"Which one?"

"Any." Sam's tone was ominous. Derek could feel a sense of panic dawning.

He flicked until he came across CNN. His stepsister's face filled the screen and he dropped his eyes to the ticker tape at the bottom.

Canadian singer Casey collapses at her LA home.

"Fuck!" He swore, his hands were starting to shake. "What did dad tell you?"

"They don't know anything. They just saw it on the television themselves, no one from her management company has phoned them and no one will take their calls."

"You are kidding me?"

"No. It happened an hour ago."

"Thanks Sam. I appreciate the heads up. Don't worry I'm on it." He said downing his beer, noting the name of the hospital Casey had been taken to as he grabbed his coat. He charged for the door arm already raised to hail a cab.

During the fifteen minute journey to the hospital he called his Dad.

"Dad. It's me. Have you heard anything yet?"

"Derek, thank god! No. Her management haven't been in touch. All we know is what you see on the screen. God! I wish she was here in Canada."

"What about her waste of space boyfriend?"

"We haven't got a number for him. I don't think things were too good between them just lately."

"Okay. I'm en route to the hospital now."

"Will they let you in?"
"Dad. This is me we are talking about, I can talk my way into a nunnery."

"Thanks Derek. Nora and I appreciate it."
"Dad. It's what I'm here for."

It was the first time Derek had told the truth about LA, but he doubted his father had understood.