A/N: I can't believe it's been seven months since I last published on this story. Clearly, it's taking a while to get this one out. This chapter was written about five months ago; it just needed a quick polish. Can someone remind me to update this more often? Like once a week, maybe?

Derek's mouth dropped open. "No, you're not," he said, shaking his head forcefully, "there's no way. Lizzie is small and has brown hair and loves the environment and is into sports and my brother Edwin. You're playing a trick on me. Who told you all of this? Someone had to have told you." He frantically felt around for his fraying boxers and, finding them, jammed one leg into the opening at the waist.

I laughed sharply. "No one told me anything, Derek. I lived it. I lived in the shadows of your confidence and Casey's intelligence. Edwin's your brother and Marti was the cute one, but what was I to you? Nothing, that's what. Nothing but Casey's boyish little sister, the freak with the frizzy hair and the freckles. But now, hooooo, now, I got you. I had you. And you know what? You weren't that good." I zipped my skirt and ran a hand through my hair, making it stand on end. "So fuck you, Derek Venturi. Fuck your job, fuck your nasty room in this ugly house, and fuck your stupid, pathetic life." I turned towards the door, willing the tears to stay where they were until I could get out of the house.

"Hey, shut the fuck up wit' all the fucking!" I stopped short when I saw a dark-skinned, overweight man backlit in the doorway. "I'm tryin' ta sleep."

"Sorry, Les," Derek mumbled, coming up behind me and grabbing my arm. He pulled me behind him and forced me to sit on the bed. "It won't happen again."

"It better not, agori, or your ass is gonna be out on the street. What did I tell you about bringing loud women back here?"

"Don't do it," Derek said, still mumbling and staring at a stain in the mangy shag carpet.

"Fine, then don't fucking do it." Les turned to leave. "And I want my rent, E. You're late again."

"That probably meant 'sister-fucker,'" I said scornfully, wrenching my arm out of Derek's iron grasp. "Fuck this shit, I'm outta here." I picked up Derek's dirty money from the floor and shoved it into the waistband of my skirt. "Just call me a cab and I'm gone."

"Don't go, Lizzie," Derek said quietly, not meeting my eye. He rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand, his belly hanging over the waist of his boxers. "We have to talk about this."

"Talk? About what?" I asked. "There's nothing to talk about, Derek. We fucked. I got what I wanted, you got something you wanted, and now you want me gone. It's done. Over. Finito." I crossed my arms across my chest and glared at him.

"Lizzie, it can't be over," Derek said, jerking his head up. Tears moistened the corners of his eyes, emphasizing the deep sorrow within them. "Did you really think you meant nothing to me?"

Oh, well isn't this just dandy? I thought in disgust. Derek, playing the pity card. Not like I haven't seen this one before.

"I know I was," I said shortly. "So forget it. Like I said, call me a cab so I can get the fuck out." I started towards the door. "I'll wait outside."

"No," Derek said forcefully, skirting around me and blocking the doorway, "I don't care how mad you are, you can't wait outside around here. It's dangerous."

I laughed. "You had no problem with that a few minutes ago when you thought that I was just some cheap piece of ass!" I tried to get around him, but he stopped me.

"I thought that because you look like one!" Derek exclaimed, glancing me over from top to bottom. "And you act like one, too. What the hell happened to you, Lizzie?"

"Like you should talk," I spat, taking a step back. "I, at least, am making something of my life. I'm going to get my degree and then work for a non-profit or EPA or Environment Canada or something. Looking amazing and being sexually liberated doesn't mean that I'm going to end up dancing on a stage. And even if I did, at least I have the body for it.

"You, on the other hand, have nothing," I continued. "You live in one room in a disgusting house in the fucking ghetto, Derek. I know you've been in the same position in the same studio for years—Mark told me, by the way—and that you somehow got the job in BC, but then keep fucking it up. So forget about me, Derek, what the hell happened to you?"

"Do you even need to ask, Liz?"Derek asked angrily. "Do you need to hear me say it out loud?"

"Yeah, actually, I do," I said, crossing my arms over my chest again. "Because nobody knows what happened to you when you left. I thought you died, Derek. Nobody heard from you for weeks. The only reason we knew that you were still alive is because Sally called us."

"Yeah, I was pissed at her for that," Derek admitted, picking up his rubber band from the pillow and pulling his hair back into a low ponytail. "For a long time, actually."

"And you think we weren't angry?" I asked. "George almost got into the car to drag your ass back from Vancouver. Nora stopped him; she said it was time to let you go and live your life. That they had meddled too much."

"Really?" Derek asked, perking up a little. "She said that?"

"Don't get your hopes up, Derek, it had nothing to do with you and Casey." Derek's face fell visibly, and I felt my heart sink with it. "Nora just meant that maybe if she and George hadn't pushed you into uni, maybe you wouldn't have defiled her daughter. Daughters, I should say."

"Liz, stuff with Casey happened way before we went to Queen's," he said softly. "I fell in love with her a long time ago."

And he clearly still loves her. "Whatever, Derek. You know she moved to England, right?"

"She did what?" Derek asked, his eyes opening wide.

"She moved to England with some American guy. He's a special agent."

"Liz, stop being such a fucking liar," Derek said, rummaging through the piles on the floor and coming up with a package of stepped-upon cigarettes. "Casey is not living in England with a special fucking agent."

"Actually, she is," I said, plucking a cigarette from Derek's crushed pack and sitting next to him on the bed. "I don't really know the details; Casey emailed Nora to let everyone know that she was leaving." I looked around on the floor for a lighter. I found one on the nightstand and grabbed it. "But yeah, I guess they met in Boston while she was at Harvard. He's in the Air Force and is a full-on special agent, and when he had to move, she went with him."

"So it's serious then," Derek said, without emotion.

"I guess," I said, flicking the lighter to ignite. "Like I said, all we got was an email. That was a month ago and since then, nothing. But you know they're living together. I mean, they have to be. There's no way that she can support herself while she's still in school. She'll probably end up knocked up and married by the end of the year." I took a drag on the cigarette and held the smoke in my lungs, letting the carcinogens leech into my blood stream. In a slow, thin stream, I blew out the smoke and watched it dissipate in the silence.

I glanced over at Derek. He was sitting on the bed, motionless, holding the crushed pack of cigarettes between his hands. His eyes were closed, his head hanging, and in that moment, I knew I had never seen a man as broken as he was. I did it. I broke him.

Derek looked up and flashed me a quick, forced, seductive smile. "Well, you ready for that second round?"

A/N: DAAAAMMMMMNNN. So now Derek knows that Casey moved to England (ref. Always You, Chapter 7 for a refresher), and Lizzie got a little more insight into Derek's undying love for Casey. Also, what's up with Derek? He really seems to be broken. How do you think he eventually recovers?