I have had the disturbing inkling that the quality of my writing is steadily going down with every chapter I post. Or maybe I'm just losing the spark or whatever that I had for writing the story to begin with. Grr…

Well, here goes anyways.

Very sorry for the confusion, claire. I didn't mean for there to be any Dasey hints. The little apology scene was supposed to reinforce the sibling relationship, and also show that Derek can be a good guy. Read chapter seven again- I added a part that should help once merged with this chapter.

Thanks to all of you who are reading!


Many Mixed Events

The troop returned to the campsite in a surprisingly good state of mind. However, Derek and Casey's unusual harmony with each other ended when Casey flipped the radio station to her favorite pop, off of the station that played Derek's rock. This of course sent them straight into a heated argument.

Nora, slightly relieved at the returning of normality and slightly exasperated, rolled her eyes. George had by now become inured to all forms of sibling conflict, and scarcely noticed them.

Once they reached the camp, everyone emptied out of the van and went their separate ways. Derek headed over to the lake, not sure of what he wanted to do.

"You could help with supper, you know," came a voice from behind him.

"Me? Help?" he said, raising an eyebrow in amazement at Scarlett's density.

"You know, its not so outlandish to be nice once in a while," she snapped. "Do you realize how hard Nora works all the time? She has a full time job, and she's a housewife. You really have no idea how hard either thing is, do you?"

What was with her tone? It was waspish. "Cool it," he said calmly. "You're neither my mother nor my stepmother."

"Thank goodness for that," she nearly screamed at him. "I'd be insane by now! No wonder your mother left your father- because of you!"

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A young Derek, about nine years old, peeked around the corner of the banister, watching his parents with luminous eyes.

"Listen, George," hissed a woman's voice. It was Mother. "I'm sick of this house, I'm sick of staying here all the time, I'm sick of you, and I'm sick of those brats! There is no way you're keeping me here this time!"

"You don't say anything about the children," came George's voice, foreign to Derek's ears because it was so harsh.

"I'll say whatever I please! I hate those little monsters- every single one of them! Two horrible little boys were bad enough, but then you get me pregnant again, and now I have a wrinkled and ugly little beast of a girl that doesn't do anything other than scream and fill diapers!"

"She has colic, and she's only four months old. You just shut up about the kids, Diana."

Mother laughed unpleasantly. "I don't care about them anymore. I don't care about you anymore. I've been cheating on you these past three months. And then, I realized: why cheat? Why stay here any more? I'm divorcing you, Mr. Venturi, and marrying my lover! Then I'll be as far away as I can from those animals! I won't even share the same last name with them- and you can have them! I don't want to see them ever again!"

Derek watched Diana pick up her suitcase and waltz out of the house, slamming the door behind her. (Note how Derek refferred to his mom as Mother until the end)

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Scarlett had regretted the words before they were out of her mouth. She had known nothing about Derek's mother- her wildly thrust sword had found his heart completely unintentionally. She had no idea of this, and was therefore totally unprepared for his reaction.

He didn't blow up. He didn't say a word. But his expressive chocolate eyes unfocused as they relived the memory, reflecting hurt and betrayal.

Then, when he came out of it, his two warm brown eyes hardened to brittle topaz jewels. Without saying a thing, he turned on his heel and walked off into the woods.

That was worse than if he'd slapped her. Scarlett stood in the middle of the clearing by the lake, staring at the ground. Silently and slowly she went back to the camp, and ate in silence. No one questioned where Derek was.

But the guilt ate away at her every second that ticked away. Finally, twenty minutes after supper had finished, she couldn't take it anymore. "I'm going for a walk," she said quietly to Nora. "Don't worry about me if it gets a little late."

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The woods were dark and cool, and strangely comforting. Scarlett followed no trail or magical intuition; she merely wandered, looking occasionally for signs of Derek.

The dead pine needles muted her footsteps as she continued her walk, enjoying the absolute silence. Now its my turn to apologize to someone who's stormed off into the woods, she thought, the irony of it less than humorous.

Darkness fell, casting pleasing calm over the forest floor. Scarlett thrust her hands into her jeans pockets.

She didn't know how long she walked, but she was conscious of the gradual deepening of the night as all of the nocturnal beings began their nightly habits.

Scarlett had been walking on a gradual, easy incline for quite some time. Now it started getting more serious, becoming noticeably more rocky and considerably more steep.

The trees began to thin as she continued walking, her mind blank. Then, quite abruptly, she broke out onto a small treeless area that overhung a huge, deep valley that was closed in on all sides by cliffs. The walls of these were sheer, plunging down vertically more than a hundred feet until they sloped to the valley's floor. It was like a giant had taken a huge, irregular shaped ice cream spoon and scooped a large swath of the earth.

The moon was once again bright, and her eyes flew across the gaping hole to see a solitary figure sitting cross legged on the grass, and looking over the valley. Quickly, before he saw her, she melted back into the trees. She didn't want him avoiding her.

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Derek suddenly saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. But when he turned to examine the spot more carefully, there was nothing there. Probably an animal.

He sighed, playing with a strand of grass he'd torn off. Why had he walked off like that? He was hungry!

But he really had no desire to go back. All he wanted to do was look over the valley and muse over the events of late.

However, the events of late that his mind seemed inclined to think about only contained Scarlett. This was not acceptable to the more reasonable (or was it really the unreasonable?) part of his mind.

He groaned in frustration and lowered his back onto the grass, shutting his eyes and letting the cool breeze waft over him. He wasn't cold, even though it was only sixty degrees out. He was wearing jeans and his favorite leather jacket, after all.

When he next opened his eyes, he saw Scarlett's upside down face peering at him, surrounded by stars.

He grunted and shut his eyes, thinking he was still dreaming. Then it hit him- in dreams, enticing images were not upside down. Derek expelled a long, harassed breath.

"I just came to say I was sorry," her voice whispered. It was full of contrition, and something else: worry.

She was worried he wouldn't forgive her? Derek raised a mental eyebrow in interest. Let her think you hate her, chuckled a devious little voice in his head. She'll be forced to explain herself, which is always good.

"Derek," she tried again, her voice sounding broken. "I didn't mean it. I didn't know that you had some memory or something about your mother. I was just… I don't know. I mean, you were being so nice for once, and then you had to go off with that brunette. I was like, je-" ere she trailed off in confusion, obviously not having meant to say anything of the sort.

"You were…" he prodded, sitting up and opening his eyes. This was starting to get interesting.

Scarlett looked away.

"You were jealous," he breathed.

"I was not!" she said indignantly, and a little too hastily.

Derek laughed. Here was the Player in all of his glory. This was how things were supposed to be.

However, things took a detour into uncomfortable territory. "Derek, why did you run off?" she asked softly.

He settled back down onto the grass. "I like the other subject better," he said lightly.

"I want to know. You can tell me anything."

There was something about the soft, insistent quality in her voice. Or maybe it was the kind, compassionate light radiating from her eyes. Whatever it was, he found himself talking- and he couldn't stop, despite his most valiant efforts.

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Scarlett listened to Derek relate the memory in as few phrases as possible. There were no mentions of his emotions at all. In fact, his narration was executed with a cold way, devoid of anything.

When he finished, Scarlett laid an impulsive hand on his shoulder. "It wasn't your fault, you know," she whispered.

He didn't respond.

Scarlett underwent a revelation. "That's why you womanize, and are arrogant, and can't be kind for the life of you. You can't be tied down, or risk being betrayed again, because someone might hurt you like she did."

"Aren't we a five star shrink?" said Derek sarcastically.

Scarlett winced, and forced back the nasty reply that had been ready on her tongue. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. But, I'm not the best at comforting a guy without touching his precious male macho-ness."

That drew a reluctant smile.

"Do you forgive me?" she asked.

"Well, I won't be able to kiss you unless I forgive you," he said.

"You won't be able to kiss me at all," retorted Scarlett.

"Really?" he asked, coming closer to her.

"Please don't," she said softly.

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Derek looked down into her green eyes and read the test. She was irresistible, and yet she was asking him to resist.

It was a struggle. But Derek rose to the occasion, and backed off. If he would have looked at her, he would have seen the small, surprised half-smile on her lips. But his face was carefully schooled into a blank canvas and turned away from her.

They walked slowly back towards the camp, neither spoiling the beautiful hush of the woods.

"I'm still going to get you tomorrow," said Derek as they neared the clearing.

Scarlett halted and looked up at him, considering. After a lengthy pause, she said sweetly, "Je vous desire un bonne nuit, laid pomme de terre."

"That better not have been an insult," he remarked.

"Pummel me, then- if you can catch me!" she shot back.

"That I can do," he said, smiling, and lunged at her.

He grinned at her playful, half-serious shriek, and pumped his legs even faster to close in on her.

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Derek became increasingly more uncomfortably aware of his growing familiarity with Scarlett as the days wore on. He no longer wanted to seize her and start necking; he wanted to tell her a joke or listen to her talk. This is not natural, he thought, upset. It was alarming to his rigidly 'male' perceptions. Talking is not something you did with a girl for fun.

And so, he went into defense mode.

At every occasion he could, he insulted her or scoffed at her. He ignored her until he was forced to notice her. He went out of his way to avoid doing things with her. He flirted outrageously with every new girl that he saw, ignoring the stab of pain the hurt lurking in her eyes caused him.

It seemed to be working. Derek just didn't know how well.

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Casey opened the flap of the tent and zipped it shut. Scarlett was on the bed, face down. This was unusual for her. Typically, she was up and ready by six.

"Come on, Scarlett," she said, in a patronizing tone. "Its nearly nine. You need to get up."

Scarlett looked up at her, and quickly turned away. It was not quick enough to hide the streaks of mascara on her cheeks.

"You were up. And you're crying!" exclaimed Casey.

"No, I'm laughing," came an irritated and watery voice.

"Hey, I didn't do it. Did I?" she suddenly asked, looking just as suddenly worried. Using only one breath and going a mile a minute hysterically, she blurted, "I know I've been abandoning you a lot for Sam and leaving you with Derek, but-"

"You're an idiot," said Scarlett bluntly. "But you wouldn't be as much of a one if you would just loosen up a little."

"Right," said Casey, a little deflated. "So, what's wrong?"

"What but the usual?" asked Scarlett, depressed.

"Oh, right. Derek," she said understandingly. "But he didn't do anything major lately, and his little remarks never bother you that much, so-" Then something clicked in Casey's very slow brain.

"You like Derek," she said slowly.

"No!" protested Scarlett, but she was not vehement enough.

"I can't believe you!" shouted Casey. Then, she gave a snort of disdain. "What Derek wants, Derek gets." Then she ran out of the tent.

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Scarlett couldn't help herself. A fresh wave of tears spilled over her face. Rebelliously she dashed them away, and rose. With a wet wipe she removed what she hoped was all of her ruined makeup, and started afresh.

It took her several minutes, and when she finished it was nearing breakfast. Scarlett went out of the tent and sat down at the large picnic table, trying to appear collected.

"There's a huge snowstorm coming in," said George, who had been listening to the radio. "Its supposed to get here in an hour or so. I guess we're not going anywhere for a while."

Just then Nora came into view, an odd look plastered onto her face. "George," she said, in a strange voice, "where's Marti?"

Instantly everyone fell silent. The next second, pandemonioum had erupted, and everyone was running everywhere to look for her.

Everyone except a deadly white Scarlett. She knew already that Marti was not at the camp. Every morning just before breakfast, without fail, she would bounce into Derek's tent and awaken Smerek. This morning she had not.

And Scarlett knew where she had gone. Apparently, Marti had taken the idea of paying Nutkin an early morning visit.


Je vous desire un bonne nuit, laid pomme de terre: in my terrible translation, "I wish you a good night, you ugly potato." Hey, I don't know that much French, okay?

Of course, Scarlett can't do the smart thing and tell the rescue party that is organized where Marti is. That would spoil my gloomy little episode.

PS: This story might end badly. I'm for realism, and with all of what is going on, I might have to kill Scarlett and/or Marti off. Then I'll have to change the categories though. If you don't want it to end badly, review and tell me. If enough of you hate the idea, I'll weigh the odds in favor of a happy ending.