Disclaimer: They aren't mine, I just like to torture them.
By the time Casey fell asleep, Derek was exhausted. His brain hurt, his eyes hurt, his throat was dry from his pointless arguments, and he was more emotionally drained than he cared to admit. Of course, he wasn't one to talk. He had unsuccessfully tried to make Casey leave for dinner, and ended up bringing her a plate of Mac and Cheese from the cafeteria, which she barely even attempted to eat. If he weren't so worried about her, he would be annoyed at the waste of five bucks. He had tried to convince her to leave twice more after that, the last a little after midnight, before realizing his persuasive techniques were failing—due to a combination of her stubbornness and the fact that her brain only registered half of what he said.
He had given up with resigned irritation and left her on that same chair to find a nurse, whom he managed to sweet talk into finding him an empty cot for the night. Casey barely seemed to notice when he pushed her onto it, rolling over to stare blankly at the wall. He watched until she fell asleep; then, unsure of what else to do with himself, he wandered aimlessly, wondering if asking for another cot would be pushing his luck. By the time he got back to his stuff it was a little after one thirty, and he was pretty intent on just sprawling out across a few chairs and passing out for a few days.
Which is why the periodic beeping of his phone grated so much on his nerves. He knew Nora had probably left him at least three more messages, and there were probably tons of other people who thought they could use him to reach Casey.
He really didn't want to go through this right now. But he found, after a few minutes of trying to sleep, that simply leaving them for tomorrow was going to cause more stress than getting taking care of it would. He rolled over with a grunt, fishing on the floor until he found the phone that was resting just under the seat. He collapsed into his former position—immediately cursing the florescent lights—and squinted at the LCD.
Yep, home had called about four times; he probably shouldn't have told Nora that Casey was freaking, no matter how much he had glossed it over. After listening to the first two, and Nora's repeated (way too often) insistence that he should call at any hour, he reluctantly punched in the numbers and, only pausing for a minute, hit send with a grimace. It only rang twice.
"Derek?" came Nora's frantic voice on the other end.
"Yeah," he responded lowly. It wasn't like the hospital was quiet, but he felt the need to keep his voice down anyway. He wasn't in the mood for some loud discussion that some bored jerk would try to overhear.
"Finally!" she exhaled loudly, before launching into her monologue. "I thought you were never going to call. I knew Casey wouldn't answer, but I just couldn't go to bed without knowing, and I've been sitting by the phone for just hours. And then no one else could sleep either, well, except for Marti, but then we were all down here and she didn't want to miss out, so she came, too—"
Derek had often notice that Casey took after her mom in the panicking department, but he had never been exposed to it as much as tonight. Jeeze, without the opportunity to tease Casey, it was obnoxious.
"Wait, Nora," he interrupted, before she could detail what all of them had done every minute of those few hours. "Like, everyone's down there? Just sitting in the kitchen, waiting for me to call?"
"Of course," his stepmother replied, as if it should be obvious. He propped himself on his elbow, staring in confusion at a light flickering across the room.
"Why?" He finally asked, too tired to even bother masking the rudeness of the question. Sure, Dennis was injured, badly injured, but it wasn't like Derek was going to know anything about it. And it wasn't like the phone wouldn't wake them up if there were news.
"Well, Derek," Nora began cautiously, as if she suddenly realized how stressed her stepson really was. "I know you said Dennis was stable, but we're still really worried—" he assumed the 'we' there referred to herself and Lizzie, "—and not just about Dennis, but about Casey, too, and . . ." she trailed off when her words began to speed up, deliberately pausing before starting again. "Well, we all know how high strung Casey can be, and I just think this could be really . . . bad for her."
Despite himself, Derek rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to snort. Her dad winding up in the hospital critically injured might be bad for her? Really? He tried to pay attention as Nora continued.
"I know I didn't go about it the best way," she went on guiltily, "but I just can't let Casey make herself sick with worry. She'll wind up in one of those beds, too, and . . ." as she trailed off, he glanced to the dark corner where the nurse had wheeled Casey's cot, cringing. He knew her well enough to know she would worry herself into a coma, and then come back to yell at him for letting her do so.
"Just . . . I really appreciate what you're doing for her," Nora said abruptly. "Taking care of everything." The way she said it left a sour taste in his mouth. Like he was being responsible, or something. "And I know it's a lot to ask, and probably futile anyway, but . . . don't let her get too worked up, okay?"
Derek made a noise of noncommittal before brushing off Nora's concerns.
"She's fine," he fibbed easily. "I mean, yeah, she's freaked out of her mind, but you're blowing this way out of proportion. She's even sleeping," he dismissed casually. Then, hoping to hurry the phone call, he added, "And I'm not," in a way that was meant to guilt trip his step-mom into letting him hang up. But just his luck, she latched onto something else.
"Oh, so you got back to the apartment all right? I was a little worried, you know. It's late, and you're all by yourselves, and—"
"Actually, Nora, we're still at the hospital," Derek blurted out, well aware that the fact would cause another bout of worry. He was right, and he cringed as Nora went on another diatribe, wishing he had thought to lie. He was unexpectedly saved when he heard the phone being ripped from Nora's hand, and his youngest stepsister's voice filled his ear.
"Derek?" she sounded uncharacteristically hesitant, and he frowned.
"Yeah, Liz?"
Her voice was more confident when she spoke again. "I know you're going crazy right now, with my mom and Casey and all," he could hear her duck away as Nora's offended tones came from somewhere right of her. "But try getting Casey out, alright? She doesn't need to be cooped up thinking about all this until he wakes up," Derek cringed when, at the mention of her dad, Lizzie's strong voice wavered. Was every woman in his life going to have a meltdown on him? But, good old Lizzie, she forced a small laugh and added, "Besides, your dad says you have free reign with the credit card. You should take advantage of him while you can."
Derek couldn't help but chuckle as his Dad's voice rose from the background. "Lizzie! I didn't not say free reign. I said if necessary . . ." and then, closer to the speaker, "Derek, don't you listen to her. I know where you live, buddy."
"Sure, dad," he said, in best his I'm only pretending to listen tone. "Whatever you say."
The phone was shuffled again, and Derek started to feel unwanted. Or extremely wanted, but in all the wrong ways.
"Smerek, when are you coming home?" his little sister mumbled sleepily, and his good humor faded back into the protective urges he had been squelching all day. Only now he didn't feel the need to.
"Soon, Smarti, okay?" he promised, unable to do better than that.
"You'd better," she warned half-heartedly. "Cause I miss you, and Daphne misses you, and you know she only misses me, most times. And Daphne says to tell you to look after Casey, too, cause she gets herself in lots of trouble sometimes, and Nora isn't there to get her out of it." Derek's mouth twisted at the command, because somehow Marti's comment made Casey seem that much more fragile. Which he hated. Because then he was useless. And he couldn't deal with drama.
"Will you?" Marti asked, the forced seriousness dropping from her tone as she worried about his answer. "Even though you fight sometimes, and Nora says you make each other go crazy?"
He couldn't answer for a moment. So many freaking stupid things, running through his head. He did not need this right now. But it was Marti, and he knew he had to deal. Finally he managed two short sentences.
"Yeah, Smarti. I will."
Marti sighed, reassured as easily as that.
"I love you, Smerek."
"I love you, too, Smarti."
She sighed again, and Derek was sure she was being settled into someone's lap.
"Bring me back a bear," she commanded before the phone was taken from her as well. Derek quirked a grin, glad that Marti, at least, would always be Marti.
"Hey, bro, take care, alright?" was all Edwin said, waiting for mumbled assent before clicking the phone off. Derek silently thanked his little brother, and made a mental note not to noogie him until he left for college. Well, maybe just one or two for old time's sake, but that was it.
Glancing at his inbox again, Derek registered the remaining messages with a: Hell, might as well get it all over with.
His head began to throb as soon as the message started. Kendra was not her usual happy self, and the three messages she had left him, with increasing irritation, had essentially boiled down to, "You and Casey stood me up!"
Derek deleted the messages and tossed his phone onto the chair, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He had completely forgotten about the missed lunch date until then, and he knew Kendra would not be pleased about it. Running a hand through his hair, he eyed the phone warily before finally snatching it up. Get it over with, he repeated, more like a mantra than a legitimate desire now. This time, he had nearly given in to the hope that it would ring out when Kendra finally answered.
"Derek." She greeted bluntly, her irritation sounding odd against the pulsing music he could hear in the background.
"Look, Kendra," he began tiredly, annoyed at her annoyance; after all, here he was being the responsible one—it even sounded bad in his head—and she was going to give him grief for something that was completely out of his control.
"If you had gotten lost," Kendra cut him off, deceptively calm, "I might have understood. If you had forgotten," she spit out, halfway between a whine and a sneer, "I might have brushed it off as typical Derek." He knew she didn't mean it as an insult, despite her tone, but he took it as one anyway. "But you just didn't show up!" she finally cried, making him cringe. "We waited so long I was late going back to work! I mean, not that I'm not late a lot anyways, but still! Not even for anything important! Just because we're not dating anymore, Derek, doesn't mean that you can just stand me up whenever you damn well please! I have a life, too, you know, and I don't know what gives you the right to—"
"I'm at the hospital," he growled over her, and the flow of words stopped.
"Wh-what?" All the indignation had melted, and now Kendra, too, sounded small and vulnerable. It irritated him to no end.
"I mean, not in the hospital," he corrected with a frustrated sigh. "But you know, in the waiting room. Casey's dad got hurt, and calling you wasn't exactly high on my priorities list," he told her, a little harsher than he probably should have. But seriously, how much was a guy expected to take?
Kendra completely ignored the snub.
"Oh my gosh, Derek, what happened? Is he okay? Is-is—"
"He's fine," Derek intoned for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. "He's, you know, stable and everything."
Kendra mumbled something unintelligible, but the tenor of genuine relief was evident.
"Oh! Casey," she remembered suddenly. "Is she okay? Oh, that poor thing, I bet she's just going insane right now."
"She's sleeping," Derek offered, resisting the urge to quip, 'and insanity would be new?' But then, because he just couldn't shut his brain up, he added, "But yeah, she's been better."
Kendra contemplated this for a moment.
"What did the family say?"
Derek wasn't sure the intent of the question, and he was too tired to really care, but he chose to make a joke out of it.
"Lizzie's afraid Casey will turn into a zombie for lack of sunlight. Marti wants a bear. Oh, and Dad said I can use his credit card."
"Derek," Kendra chastised, but he could tell it was half-hearted. "You just get to sleep and don't worry about a thing, alright?" she commanded, in her rare, take-charge tone. "Everything will be fine. Stop thinking about everyone else's problems," was her final order, before she sighed and ended the call.
She really did know him too well; he didn't know if that was irritating or amusing. Much as he wanted other people to deal with their own crap, when they tried to dump it on him it just pestered him and pestered him. The realization that they would probably bother him about it in the morning tended to keep him up at night, dreading. Her attempted comfort hadn't done much good, but he did resolutely turn his phone off before lying back on the barely padded chairs and doing his best to sleep.
VVVVV
Casey's eyes followed the flow of people through the door and across the waiting area, watching the strangers pass with an interest she knew wasn't healthy. Derek had told her as much, frustrated and exasperated, when he had woken to find her staring at the wall again. But he didn't understand; she couldn't be numb, couldn't ignore the fact that her dad was lying in the hospital, but she could distract herself. Trick herself. Keep the important stuff away, by focusing on—
Are they serious? She thought, her incredulousness slightly dulled by the fact that however much she tried, she didn't really care. Still, some people just had no restraint. What kind of well-wisher brought something that massive? The stuffed animal was so big, Casey couldn't even make out the person carrying it, and she was sure they should have run into something by now. The large purple bow twisting around its neck could probably double as a noose—stop being so morbid!—and it was fluffy enough that it probably would make a very good bed.
Better than that thing, Casey complained sourly, glancing at the cot whose mattress was now pushed against the wall to make more room.
Glancing back to the toy weaving itself through the crowd, Casey squelched her natural impulse to call it cute and instead muttered under her breath about ostentatious displays. Then she dismissed it in favor of more appealing things. Like the perfectly healthy couple walking through the door, not a care in the world, the woman resting an absent-minded hand on her stomach.
People shouldn't be that happy, she thought bitterly, turning a discreet gaze on Derek. He had tried numerous things to cheer her up—or get her to move at the very least—some of which she knew were out of his comfort zone, like talking, but she had been both obstinate and rude in rejecting his subtle offers of help.
He has no idea what I'm going through, she thought, a bitter wave of hurt washing through her. I can't believe he thinks he could just help me like that. How typically arrogant.
After a few seconds of watching Derek, she was surprised that he had yet to look at her. He had pretty much been stalking her all morning—he always knew just how to irritate her, didn't he?—and the fact that he was ignoring her annoyed her almost as much as the barely hidden worry in his gaze. But now he was scrutinizing something in front of him, apparently forgetting her. She followed his line of sight, only to be met with that same stuffed bear, only a few yards away now. Her mind jumbled for a moment, confused by the unexpected sight. When the stuffed monstrosity with the stylishly clad legs was almost in front of them, Derek gave a nod as if confirming a thought.
Then the bear was plopped unceremoniously into the chair on Derek's left, accompanied by the announcement, "For Marti," before Kendra, too, dropped into a chair.
Casey felt a miniscule jolt of real shock at the sudden appearance of the blonde, and she blinked warily for several seconds, waiting for the girl's bubbly concern to converge on her. But Kendra continued talking to Derek, as though Casey weren't even there.
"You would not believe the line to get into F.A.O. Schwartz. I hate tourist season." Casey's brow furrowed, and she absently wondered if the other girl had noticed she had only been here during tourist season. But mostly she was just wondering if Kendra were seriously that shallow, that she would complain about traffic rather than pestering a waiting girl in need.
"And then I had to take, like, two cabs to get here. I mean, hello, it's not that far. But I figured I could take it from your list; I mean, you have so much to deal with. And I know how Marti gets when she thinks you've forgotten her," Kendra added with a grin. Casey was still stuck on her previous sentence.
How stressed Derek is? She repeated incredulously in her head, allowing the first strains of real emotion flit across her face since the day before. Excuse me? Setting her jaw, she took a deep breath and turned her head, hell bent on being the bigger person. And showing Kendra how much of a bitch she was being.
"Hello, Kendra," she intoned, just a bit too forcefully after hours of monotone. Derek glanced up, shocked, but she ignored him as she stared down his ex.
"Oh, hey, Casey," Kendra replied pleasantly, turning to acknowledge her. "How are you?"
Casey couldn't identify her tone—probably from ignoring Derek's attempts at conversation for several hours—so she couldn't tell if Kendra were being stupidly oblivious or if that were some roundabout way of asking about Casey's dad. Confusion melted away the irritation that had allowed Casey's sudden interest, and she felt bereft.
"Um . . ." she stalled for a second, brain working furiously, but still not up to par.
"Have you eaten yet?" Kendra interrupted before it could get embarrassing, this time unmistakably concerned.
"No," Derek butted in firmly before Casey could begin to consider how to get around it.
"Great," Kendra intoned, already on her feet. And before Casey knew it, Kendra was back, shoving a bowl of bad oatmeal into her hands and ordering her to eat.
Casey managed to force down the occasional bite, ignoring Kendra's attempts to draw her into conversation with varying levels of success. There was just something about watching Kendra babble at Derek, though, that made Casey want to speak up and regain his attention, unwanted though it was.
Which is how she ended up in her current predicament. Derek had made some comment or another, after listening to Kendra prattle on about the joys of her new salon, about how there probably wasn't any hope for him at this point. Kendra had laughed and brushed the hair off his forehead, teasingly wrinkling her nose and making a joke about "the hospital chair look."
Casey, unable to take it anymore, had made a comment about how Derek would think of himself at a time like this, and he wasn't the one making all these great sacrifices, and she hadn't washed her hair in two days. Before she knew it, Derek and Kendra had converged on her, and she wondered with a sinking stomach if that hadn't been their plan all along. Dismissing the paranoia, she had tried to evade them to no avail. She knew her fate was set when Kendra's eyes zoned in on the rumpled bags beneath her chair; even before Kendra had perked up and leaned forward to fish them from their prison with a triumphant grin.
She here she was, sitting in a stolen chair from the lobby in the middle of the tiny bathroom, contemplating maledictions as Kendra massaged shampoo into her scalp. Casey didn't even want to know where that had come from, and would rather not think of the tiny dirty sink she would have to stick her head in to get rid of it. She simply glowered at Kendra's oblivious reflection in the mirror and let her resentment fester. She wondered briefly at the fact that Derek hadn't managed to scrounge up an actual shower for her to use, but the thought was merely a passing annoyance. All her ire was currently focused on the blonde Barbie torturing her scalp.
As Kendra somehow managed to rid her hair of shampoo—using a complex system involving the sink, a McDonalds cup and a shotglass that Casey didn't even attempt to understand—and moved on to the conditioner, Casey wondered how she could ever have possibly liked the girl. By the time she had stuck Casey's head under the hand-drier, the brunette was wondering whether or not violence in a hospital was a moot point.
When the lack of tugging to her hair follicles finally drew her from her somewhat sadistic plans, she was shocked and offended to find Kendra riffling through her purse, muttering, "Makeup, makeup, makeup."
Casey's grim smile was satisfied as she watched the fruitless search; in her hurry to leave she had left it on the vanity in her dad's guest room.
But as she caught site of Kendra's already ransacked bag, and the haphazard range of beauty products strewn on the miniscule ledge, Casey's smugness faded and she suddenly squeezed her eyes shut in a childish attempt to block her current situation.
"What's this?" she heard Kendra ask, and Casey let the blue reappear, reluctantly turning towards the spot where the shuffling noises had stopped.
Kendra had pulled two familiar strips of paper from Casey's bag, and was now studying them much too closely.
"These are for today," she said unnecessarily, glancing up at Casey with pursed lips. "Two hours," she added after a moment, talking more to herself than brunette. "Hmm." Then she marched obstinately over to Casey and pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair in one fell swoop. As the other girl had just pulled it back—much less sloppily than Casey's original style, but casually nonetheless—Casey found the action rather unnecessary.
"Ouch," she complained, rubbing her tender scalp as she glared at Kendra in the mirror. Kendra ignored her, seemingly lost in her own world. "I'm not going to that," Casey pointed out, pain welling up in her as she suddenly remembered her father, and the horrible event that had destroyed their outing.
"Of course you are," Kendra answered, somehow still perky even when so obviously distracted.
"No, Kendra," Casey growled, batting her hand away from what was now a poofy mess of brown hair. "I was supposed to go with my dad and—"she cut herself off before that idea could catch up with her. "I'm not going." She repeated stubbornly. Kendra grabbed the brush from its perch on the hand drier and began attacking Casey's frizz, shaking her head as she did so. Casey huffed, annoyed at being ignored, and still bitter from the seemingly endless torture. "Why would you think I want to sit alone in a dark theater and be reminded of—"
"You won't be alone," Kendra cut her off, and Casey's attention fixed on the other girl's face. Was Kendra seriously using her pain to get free Broadway tickets? Absolutely unbelievable.
Kendra glanced down at Casey's murderous expression and rolled her eyes. "Derek's taking you," she said, as if it were a foregone conclusion.
"Derek?" Casey hissed. He was the last person she wanted to . . . . "Why would I ever go with Derek? That's completely ridiculous! I mean . . . ."
Kendra sighed and put the brush down, leaning down to look at Casey in a way a little too patronizing for someone with such a low IQ.
"Casey," she said firmly, as if Casey were simply a misbehaven child. "Your dad spent a lot of time coming up with something you'd love, and you're going to enjoy it. With Derek," she added after a moment. Then she straightened, as if that had solved everything. "Now, I'm pretty sure this is the only thing you have to wear," she said, grabbing the two shopping bags from the floor and riffling through them. Casey cringed at the genuine, "ooh," the escaped Kendra's lips as she found the outfit Casey had been so pleased with. But though Kendra eventually got her into the casually chic dress and detailed flats, Casey suddenly hated the thing. After all, if not for that stupid outfit and that stupid lunch and that stupid Kendra, her Dad wouldn't be dying right now.
But Kendra seemed to be aware of none of this as she grabbed the now-flat layers framing Casey's face, twisting them expertly and deftly securing them with a single bobby pin at the back of Casey's head. Then, giving a satisfied nod and a too-pleased grin, she stalked over to the counter, brushed the collection of hair and beauty supplies into her bag with one sweep of her hand, and grabbed Casey's elbow on her way to the door, dragging the unwilling beauty victim behind her.
Derek was leaning restlessly against the wall that jutted between the waiting room and the hall that lead to the maternity ward. Casey glared at him, too, but he didn't notice, staring distractedly around the room, brow furrowed. He looked up only a moment before they reached him, tipped off by the resolute click of Kendra's heels as she marched her prisoner across the room.
"Come on," Kendra told him, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him along as well. "You'll be late."
"Late?" Derek asked, still confused by his unexpected trip to the door. "To what?" he asked, a satisfying hint of annoyance creeping into his tone.
"The play, silly," Kendra stated matter-of-factly as she pushed him toward the revolving glass. Derek glanced once from Kendra to Casey, assessing their expressions and the situation surprisingly quickly. Swallowing whatever excuse he was about to give, he quickly pushed through the doors and, after a moment, a suddenly resigned Casey followed his lead. Even three hours with Derek in which to contemplate her misery was better than the alternative. She worked to let the earlier detachment consume her as Derek made several attempts to hail a cab; her brain cooperated surprisingly well.
"We need to cancel our flight," Casey realized dully several minutes later, as she was pushed unceremoniously into a bright yellow sedan by a much too motivated Derek. How unfortunate that he seemed to be wholly onboard with the plan. It was unbelievably fake, and her mouth curled sourly as she realized he was probably a key instigator in the kidnapping attempt. She wouldn't put it past him plant the tickets where he knew Kendra would find them.
"I did," Derek assured as he climbed in after her. "Well, Nora did. But it's done. We don't leave til next week."
"Oh," Casey muttered, and turned to stare obstinately out the window. She heard Derek sigh, but didn't bother to acknowledge him. As he leaned forward to give the cabbie their destination, Casey resolutely decided that, one way or another, she would make life as miserable for him as he was making it for her.
XCXCXCXC
At long last! Another chapter! My excuses are more legit this time (a bit), but I'm not going to bother. I've really missed this story, though, and hope I can write more soon. Almost as much as I hope there's still someone reading it.