Author's Note: Thanks so much for the reviews :) Each one made me smile. Still my first LwD story, but everyone in the community has been very friendly!

Disclaimer: I do not own LwD or the song "Stand in the Rain" by Superchick.

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Stand in the Rain

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When Derek woke, he thought he was suffocating. His chest was tight, his throat constricted, and he was twisted in the rockstar sheets Nora had yet to remove from his bed. It wasn't the first time he'd dreamed of death and from experience he knew it certainly wouldn't be the last. He had long stopped hoping for the dreams to end, instead acknowledging them with an indifference he'd never mastered in youth.

A glance to the clock beside his bed confirmed what he already knew – it was five thirty in the morning and he'd slept a record four and a half hours. Since coming home, Derek had to admit, his sleeping patterns were changing and not in a way that he could find fault with. He could swear that there were birds outside the window and he could hear them calling to one another; not the loud, obnoxious squawks of neighbourhood magpies but instead the cheerful chirps of robins and their young. Even as he strained to hear, his brain told his heart that the robins had already left London for the winter. Dark outside or not, his stepmother would already be awake – "I'm not retired yet, and there's still so much to do!" – but Derek didn't want to disturb the early morning silence of an always-moving house.

Such early mornings were different now. No neurotic stepsisters shouting at him; no younger brothers trying to bum twenty dollars. His baby sister was still sleeping, and the quiet was soothing. It was a different kind of quiet than that he'd grown accustomed to in Africa. This silence was not filled with the sounds of the dead. It only ever lasted until six, sometimes six thirty, because that was when Marti would wake up and come trotting downstairs to make sure the rabbit pen in the backyard was clean and that Barney had water. It was her new tradition, after feeding the rabbit, to jabber away as if her favourite sibling had really been gone for eight years and missed the biggest events to ever happen during her brief stint in elementary and middle school. And so the silence was precious, even though it wouldn't last long.

It was edging toward six o'clock when Derek finally appeared in the pocket doors of the kitchen, hair still wet from a shower he still felt exceedingly grateful for despite being back in Canada for nearly a month. Nora turned as she heard him, a mug of coffee held with both hands while the steam rose up to waft into the air. "Well, sleepyhead, you slept late," she said, and to her satisfaction Derek cracked a smile. "Will you help me with breakfast?"

Breakfast was another thing Derek would never again go without. There was a deliberate difference between his London family's three-meals-a-day meal routine and the maybe-we'll-eat-maybe-we-won't routine of a Ugandan citizen. He'd discovered these differences the hard way, but somewhere underneath the indifference and the bitterness Derek knew it was making him a better man. As he stood at the island counter next to the only woman who mattered in his life, Derek glanced at her face and noted a distant tilt to her jaw and a far-off look in her eyes. Casually, he asked, "What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, this and that. What colour theme we should choose for the new kitchen, whether it will snow again this month. How nice it is to share this time of day with you. That Edwin and Lizzie will be back here for Christmas. Won't it be nice to have the family together?"

Of course it wouldn't be the whole family without Casey and the baby he still hadn't seen – as much as Nora hated to admit it, she was still a mother who missed her children – but Derek figured that the question was probably rhetorical and didn't answer, waiting to let Nora work her way back to what was bothering her.

"But then I think about you, Derek, and all the trouble you've been through in the past few years. I'm afraid to think that they might question you until you break. None of them have grown out of that stage yet."

"I can hold my own in a discussion. Don't worry about me." Derek set down the knife he'd been using to slice fruit and wrapped his arms around Nora from the back, hugging her. With a sigh, Nora leaned back, resting her head in the hollow between his neck and shoulder.

"I can't help it. You're growing up, but I'll always worry."

They were silent for the next ten minutes – Nora mixing pancake batter and Derek slicing the rest of the fruit from the dish on the counter. Finally, when the silence was starting to feel tense, Nora said delicately, "Derek, honey. I think it would be better for you to stay somewhere quieter, to, you know, help you adjust."

Derek paused, leaned back and said, "I'm not staying with Casey."

"Oh, but Derek, think of what good it would do you." Anticipating protest, she hurried on. "You'd have your own space, more than just a bed, and you wouldn't have Marti attached to your hip. And… Derek, it would be doing me a huge favour. Casey hasn't been herself lately. You know what that's like. She hasn't called since you got home, and she never answers when we call her. I'm worried about her more than anything else."

Though this was obvious to Derek, again he held his tongue and waited. Sure enough, Nora seized the opportunity and continued, "Both of you are still recovering. Don't you think it would be easier for you to relate to someone? Well, maybe not so much, with you coming from Africa and everything, and Casey… well, you know. But I think it would help if you'd just – "

She was interrupted by the sound of a sixteen-year-old racing down the stairs, making as much noise as she had when she'd been younger. "Something smells goo-ood!" Marti sang, whipping through the laundry room and out the door almost faster than Derek's head could turn to follow. "Barney!" he could hear faintly, "it's time to wake up and say 'hello Marti!' Hello Barney, you cutie. Oooh, what's this yummy stuff?"

With a wry smile Nora lifted a pancake from the electric grill to a blue china plate. "It never changes around here. I hope you understand that I'm not trying to tell you to leave. You're always welcome here. This will always be your home. I just think it would be best for you, and maybe even best for Casey. Who knows?"

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Derek wasn't surprised to see a wall of trees when he turned onto Barry Place, and silently thanked Nora for her surprising accuracy in directions. London wasn't nearly as big as he remembered, yet somehow he still found difficulty in navigating the city he'd grown up in. But that was okay, Derek told himself. There was no one else in the car to mock him, and he trusted that his duffle bag would remain silent.

The second house from the very end on the right, Nora had said, and as he pulled into the driveway Derek cast a critical eye over the property. There was a single white birch tree planted squat in the middle of the front yard, trunk only beginning to thicken against the wooden pole it was tied to. The lawn was neat, though in need of a final cut before the snow started to fall, and a yellow plastic Fisher Price tricycle was turned on its side against the front step. Flowerbeds lined the small, cracked walkway, and even though all evidence of growth had long since passed away Derek could imagine the variety of colours that Casey would have growing throughout the summers.

The house itself was small and square, with a large picture window that undoubtedly looked out from the living room, and a small rectangular one that was certainly a bedroom window on the other side of the screen door. Blue siding and cemented white stones matched the pattern of the blue-and-white drapes hanging in both windows. It was a small, modest home, and Derek could easily envision Sam's desire for the simple and Casey's huge dreams for what that little house could be one day.

He turned off the ignition and stepped out of the car, shoving his hands into his pockets as a defense against the brittle chill of the late autumn air. There was an old green Pontiac Sunfire parked at the top of the driveway, only several feet away from the door to a small white shed, and from where he stood Derek could see a tattered sticker with the phrase "Baby On Board" and the top of a back seat strap-in car seat. She had her bases covered as best she could, Derek thought. For a single working mom, she was making a quiet life for her tiny family. The car in the driveway, if nothing else, meant that she had to be home.

But when he stood on the doorstep, counting slowly to ten before reaching forward to ring the doorbell again, Derek started to wonder if maybe she'd gone out for the afternoon, on a date or maybe to the park with the baby. "Come on, Case. Open the door," he muttered, rocking back on his heels. "I'm starting to feel it out here."

Almost as if his prayers were being answered he finally heard footsteps from inside the house and when the heavy oak door swung inward, Derek felt his heart clench in his chest. Every muscle in his body relaxed. Even through the screen door Derek could see his stepsister wipe her face of any thoughts and narrow her eyes, studying him with more shrewdness than she ever had in the past. He opened his mouth to say something – anything –

The door shut in his face.

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For a long moment Derek stared at it. Had she honestly just done that? Without thinking twice he opened the screen door and twisted the knob of the oak, letting out a breath when it turned out to be unlocked. Slowly, he pushed his way into the house, closing the oak door behind him and looking around the entranceway with the same criticism he'd used on the outer house.

There was a blue mat beneath his feet, and from the small pile of shoes just to the side of the door he figured he was supposed to take his off. Obligingly he slipped out of his runners and stepped onto the old carpet of a short hallway. Directly to his left was a coat closet, but the idea of hanging up his jacket in a house whose owner wasn't exactly rejoicing at his presence seemed a bit rude. A few steps forward, the left wall branched into another hallway, and the right opened into what he had correctly assumed was the living room. The wallpaper was fuzzy and peeling in the corners, and Derek half expected to see a green shag carpet beneath mirrored walls. A play mat, two laundry hampers filled with toys, an old armchair with a smaller, fluffier version beside it, a standing lamp and an old television with its antennae taped to the top were the only décor.

Not seeing his step-sister in that room, Derek bypassed it and kept going, pausing only in the entrance of a tiny, compact kitchen. There wasn't much for counter space, what with a two-element stove and a narrow refrigerator taking up all extra room, but he barely noticed as he moved to the small round table beneath a little picture window. Casey was sitting in one chair, parallel to the wall, holding her knees folded up under her chin as she stared out the window.

"You can hear them laughing," she whispered, and he sharpened his gaze on the profile of her face. "In the park, just there. I can hear them. Can't you? They don't remember that today's a day for mourning."

"They're just kids," Derek replied.

"I know." This time, she turned her head to look directly at him. Her eyes were shiny and her cheeks were red. "How am I supposed to hate them?"

Derek sat across from her and they sat quietly for several minutes. For the first time, their silence was companionable until Derek broke it. "Nora's worried about you. You haven't called."

"Oh. I was sure I had. I'd thought – well, never mind. I'll call her. I will. We were just there at Thanksgiving."

"Are you coming at Christmas?"

"I don't know yet. It depends on Sam, I guess."

When Derek stiffened, Casey looked up at him and frowned slightly, a crease forming between her brows. "Not that Sam. Today's the anniversary of his death, Derek. Do you really think I'd forget who I was talking about? I mean, my daughter. Samantha. She's… what time is it? Already four? Marie will be bringing her by soon."

"Where is she?"

"At a friend's. She goes this day every year. Gives me a bit of a break, a little time to think. I don't typically entertain guests, but you were so insistent at the door. Oh!"

With a start, she rose and hurried to flick the hind stove element on. "I'm an awful hostess. Do you want something to eat? Drink?" She was flustered, and Derek knew it couldn't have just been him. Instead of demanding cake and coffee, he rose as well.

"What's the matter, Casey?"

He'd always been able to read her, even when she didn't want to be understood. That angered her more than anything. "I'm fine," she snapped, passing the back of her hand over her eyes before setting an old silver kettle on the burning element and dropping a teabag inside.

For another long minute, Derek didn't say anything, then finally turned away just as Casey broke the silence. "Eight years. Eight years, Derek, and we never heard a word from you. Not one! You sent all of one postcard to Marti, and that was it. Did you forget about us? Was that it?" He opened his mouth, just to have Casey talk over him, her voice rising to a shrill level that bordered on hysterical. "We thought you were dead! Dead, Derek! Doesn't that mean something to you? Sam waited every day for a phone call or something, you didn't even come home for his funeral –"

"I didn't know."

Casey stopped, turned, stared at him. He looked away.

Without speaking, she flicked off the burner and poured herself a cup of tea, taking it to the table and sitting once more. Derek sat across from her, and stared out the window at the small, bare backyard. All he could see was yellow grass and an old fence with the paint peeling off its boards. The rear gate stood slightly ajar, with a rubber bungee cord holding the latch to its socket. He wondered if cats ever snuck into their yard through the gaping space between the crooked gate's bottom and the ground. He wondered if they had a cat, had ever had a cat. He wondered whether Casey liked cats, or if her daughter did.

The sound of a car door slamming had Casey rising and Derek following, staring curiously toward the front of the house. Both made it to the front door before Casey stopped and turned, looking at a point over his left shoulder rather than into his eyes. "I made up the pull-out couch downstairs. There's no television, but there's a toilet and sink. Go. Get your stuff." At his steady look, she elaborated. "Mom called. You can stay for a few days."

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Derek's first impression of Samantha Elizabeth was of a pixie. She had the curling ash-blonde hair, the big solemn blue eyes, and ears that came to a slight point at the top. Pixie or elf, he thought, if not a mixture of both. All that was missing were opaque wings and a tinkling laugh. But even when running into her mother's open arms, accepting the hug and returning it with fervor, little Sam didn't laugh.

He slung the duffle bag over his shoulder and wandered over to the two, nodding to the driver of the car – Marie, he assumed – as she pulled into the neighbour's driveway to turn around, heading again for the mouth of Barry Place. It was like a trap, Derek thought, and for several long seconds he imagined the same place in eastern Rwanda; how he would have mapped out every escape route in his head just in case a situation went sour.

From where he stood, Derek could see a little paved walkway leading through a miniature forest into the West Lions Park, and remembered that everything was safe here. There was nothing to run from, nothing to hide from. There were no secrets that couldn't be told. Here, there was family.

He held out a hand to help Casey to her feet.

"Sam," Casey said as she straightened, "I want you to meet someone. Derek is part of our family. He's going to live with us for a little while."

The little girl hid half behind her mother, staring seriously at Derek without even a smile, and whispered, "Is that man my daddy?"

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He stayed for more than a few days