Strange Attractors

by NotAContrivance

And, so, like always, Derek took what he wanted by force.

21. Mass

If I subtitled my chapters, this one would be called Of Wonder Woman and Iron Man. In Which Lizzie and Edwin discuss superheroes.

And, before I start out, I'm kind of sorry that nothing much seems to happen in this chapter (and kind of the next chapter). It might seem like a whole lot of talk and little action, but it's just build-up, you know? So you get a bit of Casey and Derek, and then you get some insight into people's motives.

Okay, this one goes out to Hanna... and here's my big justification of Casey, who I know is a bit much to take, and she's full of disapproving looks and all that, but there are reasons, I promise... Anyway, I really do appreciate that you read and enjoy my story. ;) I can see your point, in a way, and I give you credit for framing it in such a way. That being said... First off, did I ever make it seem like Derek/Lizzie was plausible? ;) Actually, I'd say that the way I'm portraying her makes Derek and Lizzie even more implausible if not even impossible as a pairing, which you'll see later. Lol, but seriously... Casey. Where do I start? Well, I'd like to point out that this is the first chapter in which we have directly seen and interacted with Casey, so we've only seen the barest tip of the iceberg when it comes to her. I've got so much more left to show you guys!

And, again, this is in Edwin's POV, so there's a bias there. He doesn't have a particularly close relationship with Casey, nor does he get the benefit of having heart-to-hearts with her, like Nora or Lizzie. What he knows is that her presence stresses everyone around him out, and that his brother's acting weird because of it... and Nora and Lizzie's lives become more difficult. So it's easy for him to seem more sympathetic to Derek because he sees him more and has more of an actual relationship with him, whereas he's barely seen Casey in four years. And I dunno if you can tell, but Edwin kind of has abandonment issues with his mother, so he kind of holds Casey leaving and not looking back against her. It's not gonna make him too fond of her or too trusting.

Also, remember that it's been four years. Derek has changed, so have Edwin and Lizzie, and so must Casey. A lot has happened in those four years, especially to Casey. She's lost her virginity, moved in with a guy, started the weirdness/disowning of Derek, watched her baby bro grow up, fallen in and out of love, broken up and gotten back together with a guy more times than she can count, had her heart broken, and gotten engaged twice. So the Casey that we see now is not the same girl as the happy-go-lucky Mary Sunshine we see on the show. She's a bit tougher, a bit more reserved... and I'd say more about how she's changed, but that would spoil it.

And, as an addendum to that, keep in mind that Casey is under a lot of stress right now. She's a double major in her final year of university, so she's worried about fulfilling all of her requirements and all the obligations that I'm sure she's chained herself to, since Casey can't say no. ;) Also, because she's in her final year of university, Casey has to figure out what she's gonna do with the rest of her life, which of course she already has kind of arranged, but still, graduating is always stressful because there's so many things to do and so many overwhelming feelings! In addition to that, Casey is planning this whole family shin-dig, and her family isn't particularly grateful. Plus, I dunno about you, but being around a lot of family is the quickest way to go out of your mind. Literally. And her family's a lot to rein in.

Plus, Casey has to plan a wedding more or less by herself in less than a year, and she's a perfectionist. You do that math. ;) Also, not to be underestimated, is Derek's presence, which has her considerably on edge in addition to the already ridiculous amount of stress she's under... and when you add Truman and Vicky to that, that's like a factor of 10-100, so she's on the razor's edge, and, as Derek would say, her sanity is already hanging by a thread as it is... it's a wonder it's held this long! ;)

As for the vain and selfish bits... I would say that Casey has exhibited a bit of these traits on the show, and I'm just amplifying it a little, such as in 6 and ½ for the vanity, and The Room and the Home Movies episode and the back to school episode where Casey decides she doesn't know who she is (Back to School Blues? I don't remember), and so on for the selfishness. Oh, or the various episodes where Casey and Derek use Ed and Liz for their own ends (Freaked-Out Friday, Sweet Misery, etc... those episode names may be wrong, but the point still sticks), because Casey is selfish when it comes to Liz quite a bit. But Casey usually overcomes the fit of selfishness. Anyway, in this case, I think Casey has a kind of acceptable reason. SHE'S GETTING MARRIED! So she does, in a way, sort of have a right to be selfish and particular and just-so about it. The vanity was really just because she was trying on wedding dresses, and she wants everything to be perfect. But, basically, getting married can turn even the most sensible women into raging witches. Watch Bridezillas and tell me you couldn't see Casey on there. ;) But it turns already bossy and sometimes insufferable women into whiny, rude, vicious little creatures of their own selfishness and materialism. Also, she's under a lot of stress planning the wedding and with hormones and changing her life and everything, and Derek and Truman and Vicky don't exactly help matters. That is my point, i.e. why Casey is the way she is, in a nutshell. So I hope I addressed all your concerns.

Oh, and one more thing: Casey is just reacting to Derek, and vice-versa. So, for every action, there's an equal and opposite reaction. That didn't come out like I wanted it to. Damn. Anyway, just put up with her a bit longer. I promise it'll get more amusing, at least. ;) I had more I wanted to say about her, but I don't remember.

Anyway, the point of this is that understanding Casey takes time, and Ed's not really the guy to ask. And, also, I hope you enjoy this, even if it's not the most exciting chapter ever.

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Mass: The conserved property and size measurement of matter independent of its gravitational weight.

---

A couple hours after the fiasco with Vicky, when Nora had worked out how it was all going to go (unbelievably, Truman was still staying with us, although he and Vicky were under strict orders to be out of the house as much as possible with a moratorium on displays of public affection firmly in place), a calmer Casey came back downstairs to, in her own words, "properly greet" all of us. Derek didn't joke that she was a Drama major for nothing. I suppose Nora figured kicking him out would be rude, since she'd promised. I'd been trying to explain to Liz and get things back on track, so I wasn't around to see Noel take his sister home, but I was a little glad he had. There's only so much temptation a guy can resist, and it's worse with her because she knows she's irresistible. My bed probably smells like her now, great.

Casey's smile was genuine, although, perhaps, a bit more strained. "I'm sorry about earlier. I was just... preoccupied and a little... high-strung, I guess. All the planning is stressing me out a little," she apologized, making a vague gesture that said the things she didn't. Things like, "you know how it must be for a perfectionist," and "I just want everything to be perfect," and "maybe my expectations are a little too high." Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes, and she didn't really look very great, to tell the truth. Her little encounter had left her a bit worse for the wear; though she'd erased all traces of tears from her face, it looked like she had a headache, and Ms. Prim and Proper was already in her pink and blue cake pajamas.

She waved off Nora and Lizzie's concern, insisting she was fine, even though that was clearly not the case. "I had this horrible dance class before I left, and the bad mood was kind of... infectious," she said carefully, aiming for airiness. Casey taught dance and yoga classes in her scant spare time; it was one of the many ways she supported herself in university, along with tutoring. She did not say that her ill mood was more than likely due to the feeling of being rushed and not having enough time (and seeing her ex with her cousin certainly hadn't helped), a feeling which Casey detested. She hugged Nora first and held on a little too long. "It's good to be back home," she breathed, closing her eyes in her mother's embrace. She kind of sank into Nora a little, like she was looking for comfort. Then she pulled away somewhat reluctantly, with red-rimmed eyes, and wrapped her arms hesitantly around Lizzie, who immediately pulled her in closer.

Casey kissed her sister on the cheek and lingered a little, relying on Lizzie's strength. Her grip, I noticed, was looser than usual. She didn't need to say anything to Lizzie; Lizzie understood perfectly without a single word. Since Dad was nearest, she hugged him next, exclaiming about how good it was to see him again and making some sort of half-hearted joke that Dad actually laughed at. Sebastian, who was at Dad's feet, ran up to her and jumped on her slash into her arms. Casey fell back a little with the weight of him but picked him up nonetheless, balancing him on her hip fondly. She let out a few giggles of delight and flashed him a real smile, playing with him and cooing at him for a few moments. "Oh, 'Bastian, you are just the best dancer I know! No one can quite waltz like you, not even Noel," she decreed with a conspiratorial wink, spinning him around.

He was having the time of his life whirling around with her, playing with her hair and all that. He gave Casey a wet kiss on the cheek, which she returned cheerfully. When Casey finally set him down, he was unsteady on his feet and so dizzy he fell back into Dad's legs. Dad gave Casey a bit of a reproachful look, which, of course, no one took seriously. Then Casey found Marti, who kissed her rather dramatically on both cheeks before pulling her into a bear hug that Casey couldn't escape even if she wanted. "I missed you too, Marti," she said a bit breathlessly, giving her an indulgent smile.

Marti pulled away from her, frowning slightly. "You should come back home more often, Casey. Smerek misses you. He doesn't ever say so, but I know. I'm not stupid," she proclaimed solemnly in a voice that was a little too loud. Derek reddened a little but was too entranced to shoot Marti a look or say something about it. It would've been cute if she was eight or six again, but she was thirteen now, so it was just awkward. Especially so since Derek was staring at Casey intently and taking absolutely no measures to conceal this, and Casey was studiously avoiding even glancing in his direction. She cleared her throat awkwardly and muttered something about how that was nice before heading in my direction.

I wasn't exactly looking forward to the hug, but it was nice to see Casey, even though we had never been particularly close. She cocked her head a bit looking at me and then reached up to ruffle my hair familiarly. It unsettled me a little because it was something Lizzie would've done. "You're getting so tall, Ed. So grown-up," she said fondly, giving me a real smile. I smiled back. "You'll be taller than your brother sometime soon," she remarked an instant later, shooting the briefest of glances in Derek's direction. My eyes widened at the blithe and uncharacteristic comparison; it was almost like our family was normal, the way she'd said that. Then, as if to distract herself from what she'd just said, she pulled me into a warm hug, kissing me on the cheek before I could even process what had just happened.

It felt funny, somehow strange, this whole moment with Casey. I felt kind of lopsided and... almost used... afterwards, but I didn't understand why. Lizzie was frowning a little bit when Casey pulled away, not that I understood why. Derek was a bit less subtle, of course. He stood by the stairs, arms crossed over his chest, a proud but vaguely irritated look on his features. The hollowness and increased angularity in his features and dark circles under his eyes suggested that he'd lost weight and perhaps hadn't been eating or sleeping well. He cleared his throat loudly, causing Casey to pull away from me. Some emotion I couldn't name darkened her face for a moment before she turned around to face him, determination glinting in her eyes.

Derek unfolded his arms from his chest and held them out expectantly as Casey walked towards him slowly. Her lips tightened, and Derek adopted the mocking smirk that was his trademark. "Saved the best for last, eh, Sis?" he quipped, eyes glinting with some kind of dark intent. Casey froze for just a moment. One could've missed it if one didn't know her as well as we did. She kept walking towards him, face deliberately expressionless, like a blank mask.

She stopped within a half a meter of him and forced a very poor imitation of a smile. It rather resembled a grimace. "Hello again, Derek." Then she surprised everyone, Derek included, by taking his hand and giving him a handshake, deliberately refusing him the closer, more personal contact she'd shared unthinkingly with the rest of the family. It reminded me of Derek's sixteenth birthday party, where he'd done more or less the same thing to her after hugging Emily and other people. It was strangely out of character given Casey's natural warmth and fondness for hugs, especially given that she'd previously wanted Derek to hug her for quite some time and had just turned down the opportunity when it was finally presented to her. It used to be that that sort of thing was something Derek would do, given his hatred of PDA and family togetherness moments... so when had the tables turned so radically that now it was Casey spurning familial displays of affection? Once again there was that feeling that I was missing a piece in the puzzle that would explain all of this, the strange, strained, tension-charged moments where those two met, like some kind of electrical charge passed between them.

Derek bared his teeth in some attempt at a smile, feeling the sting of the gesture. "What, no hug?" he attempted to joke, but it came out tight. He wasn't about to take an insult like that lying down because, of course, he knew it was no accident. Casey could never forget anything where Derek was concerned after all. So Derek jerked on her hand and used the handshake to pull her closer. He leaned in, going in closer for a kiss on the cheek. Casey reluctantly obliged him, pressing her lips to his cheek with a peck so brief one could've blinked and missed it. I wasn't even sure her lips had actually touched his cheek. What I didn't miss was the way Derek turned towards her like he wanted to catch the kiss on his lips.

I can only imagine the look on Casey's face, partly startled, partly horrified, certainly backing away. Derek, being himself, used this moment of proximity to attempt to return the favor. However, Casey pulled away abruptly just before his lips would've touched her cheek. Derek's eyes blazed as if he'd been burned or struck, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he swallowed hard and then the anger vanished abruptly from his features, as if his entire face had been whitewashed. A kind of tightness settled over his features as Casey pulled her hand away, taking a step back. "Always nice seeing you, Casey," Derek seethed, just barely able to maintain the facade before he turned around and sulked back upstairs.

By then, Casey had already turned her back on him and seemed to put the entire incident out of mind, given the fixed, determined look on her face. But her cheeks were still mysteriously flushed nonetheless, even if she didn't say one word about the encounter, despite all the odd looks she was receiving. The truly sad thing was the realization I had a moment later that I was the only one with balls or curiosity enough to attempt asking either of them about it. And then, a moment later, the even sadder realization that I wouldn't. Not that night, at least.

Normally, I would've asked Lizzie what she thought of it all, but she was still kind of mad at me because of the ex-girlfriend I'd never told her about, and the more I talked to her, the more likely she was to ask questions I didn't want to answer. I was really interested to see what would happen now that Casey, her current fiancé, former fiancé, and the bane of her existence were all in the same small house together, but, at the same time, that interest went hand-in-hand with trepidation. With Derek, Truman, and Vicky all here anything was possible.

I went to the kitchen to get a snack and then headed upstairs, thinking the bag of chips and a movie would make for a nice truce with Lizzie. The living room had cleared out by the time I emerged. Nora and Dad had gone downstairs to put Sebastian to bed and probably pass out. Truman and Vicky had headed off to his mom's house for a visit, partly to get out of Casey's hair. Casey herself had either turned in early or, more likely than not, continued the wedding and holiday planning she was doing before, possibly with Lizzie at her side. Noel no doubt was trying to encourage his fiancée to get some rest or probably trying for some uh, private alone time, which unfortunately for him is just not going to happen in this house. Like Casey would even have sex in a room next to Derek? Please!

Derek's friend was in the bathroom, showering after a grueling day of hockey conditioning and taking over Derek's duties. They'd needed Derek at Smelly Nelly's this afternoon because one of the waiters had gotten sick, and Derek had begged out after a few hours, conveniently citing familial obligation and saying his sister was coming and he needed to see her or something to that effect. So Sergei stepped in to fill the rest of Derek's shift and then proceeded to lead hockey practice for the team they coached together. Marti was in her room, talking with Naomi or Dimi or possibly both, but either way being completely insufferable. As for Lizzie, she was either in one of our bedrooms or with Casey, trying to calm the crazy. I'd thought Derek was upstairs, so I was understandably surprised when an arm jerked me off the stairs, sending a few stray chips flying.

The arm that had forcibly grabbed me belonged to my elder brother who proceeded to more or less drag me down the stairs. There was a dark, intent look in his eye, the kind there was when he was thinking deeply about something. Derek hated thinking about anything, and if he'd seen that look on his face, he'd have been tempted to punch it off. He was clearly upset about something, probably Casey, given the tension radiating off of his body in thick waves. "You're watching the game with me," he informed me, nearly throwing me on the couch, plopping down into the armchair, turning the TV on, and grabbing a handful of chips in a fluid motion.

I frowned at him. There hadn't been a game for a couple of days, for starters, and secondly, one certainly wouldn't be on now, which meant that Derek would be watching hockey reruns, which was never good. Derek liked to call it "brotherly bonding," but what the forced hockey-rerun-watching really meant was that Derek was having girl troubles and didn't want to talk about them. The hockey games gave him that opportunity for silence, and my presence allowed him to be alone but not really alone, not alone enough, at least, to be left with just his thoughts. The game was safe, too; since it was a rerun, Derek already knew how it was going to end and wasn't going to get excited or get his hopes up. The glazed, unseeing look in Derek's eyes as he watched the game confirmed my observations. The point of the game was that he didn't really have to pay attention; it was a distraction, albeit one that gave him time to sort out, at least partially, his frame of mind.

Sometimes, if Derek was really desperate or hard up, he'd ask me for advice. I didn't expect him to ask me that time because he hadn't asked me for information about Casey in years, and I figured I'd sneak away after maybe thirty minutes of enduring this boredom without him noticing. However, that was not to be. As soon as the commercial break came on, something came over Derek, and his eyes cleared. He turned to me, a curious look on his face, and then asked me a question I never thought I would hear coming from his mouth, "Hey, Ed, you know about physics, right?"

I think I gaped at him for a solid minute, wondering if Derek had just asked what I thought he'd asked. When he gave me a mildly irritated look, like I was some kind of moron for not saying anything, I realized that he had really asked me that. Then, naturally, I started to wonder why. As far as I knew Derek wasn't even taking any science classes this year. Was it for one of his film projects or something? "Yeah, I guess," I answered slowly, warily. Of course I know about physics. I'm not in Advanced Physics for nothing. Then I remembered something and added a moment later, "But so do you, Bro. Remember summer school?"

Derek grimaced. "Like I could forget the worst first week of summer ever," he muttered. At first I thought he was quiet because that particular time fell in the past period of dangerous Casey interaction. He grunted, glancing back at the screen and slouching a little more in the recliner. "That was years ago," he added distractedly a moment later. I stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to get to the point. He turned and met my gaze, a sardonic look on his face, continuing sarcastically, "And Mr. Nod, tool that he was, never taught me this..." Derek trailed off suddenly, as if he were thinking better of asking me in the first place or as if he felt stupid or something.

This sudden indecision made me want to demonstrate the laws of physics on him by applying force and motion to direction to make Derek accelerate up in the air and then come crashing back down to earth far away from me. Then Derek, who looked very serious all of a sudden, licked his lips and asked, "Ed, what happens when an irresistible force meets an immovable object?"

It was hard for me to believe he was serious, that he'd actually asked me that particular question. It didn't sound like him. He looked off, too, almost nervous, kind of on edge, but at the same time very determined. It was difficult to reconcile this question and the brother I knew, given that I was certain he'd just crammed all that information the week before his Physics exam and promptly forgotten it later. The guy who didn't get that force equaled mass plus acceleration who had probably never really had a proper grasp on physics just barely managed to scrape a passing grade on the exam. I mean, really, a fifty-one? The only reason he even passed is because it was during summer school.

So how was I to explain this to him in terms he'd understand? I sensed there was some deeper point to Derek's question, but figuring that out wasn't what he'd wanted, obviously, or he'd have asked me directly. If he and Casey had any sort of proper relationship, I'd have told him to go to her, but obviously that's not an option. Sad, though, since she's a lot better with this metaphorical emotional people crap than I am. I sighed, suspecting he wasn't going to like my answer. "It's a paradox, Derek. It can't happen," I told him calmly.

Derek, who had been gazing mindlessly at the TV, started in his chair and turned half around abruptly to face me. His eyes had widened substantially in surprise, having not expected a no in my explanation. "What do you mean it can't?" he exclaimed incredulously. His voice was hard and gruff, a bit sharper than usual, and I could see from the look on his face, or at least the one in his eyes, that this answer upset him far more than even that facial gesture let on. There was a latent anger beneath the surface that he manifested with tight arms and fisted hands on the arms of the recliner.

I knew that, as usual, I wasn't supposed to comment on my brother's strange behavior, to make him aware of how obvious he was being. I managed to avoid rolling my eyes at him and began to explain patiently (but not without a little sarcasm, of course), "Well, ignoring the fact that it's basically the same as asking whether or not God can create a rock so heavy even he can't lift it... They can't both be true at once..." Derek frowned and looked a bit less angry but more confused. "They don't even exist. There are no such things as completely irresistible forces and immovable objects," I stated blankly, hoping to clear up his confusion.

Unfortunately, I'd kind of balled up the explanation. I'm not the greatest at explaining things sometimes. "Believe me, Ed, there are," he argued intently, leaning in a little closer, refusing to back down to my obvious superior knowledge. Whatever this was about, and I suspected I knew, it was important to him. The look in Derek's eyes was stubborn and steely, as close to an immovable object as he was going to get, I'm sure. But, then again, Derek was never really the immovable object in this equation, now was he?

I gave him a vaguely cross look and prevented him from saying anything further. "-And I'm telling you there aren't." I paused a moment, sizing him up. He still looked agitated; he was leaning rather heavily on the arm of the recliner closest to me. Then I continued rather pointedly but in a tone slow and cool enough to at least seem inoffensive, "Which I believe you, of all people, should know, right, Derek?" Derek stiffened in a kind of flinch. His jaw tightened and a vaguely petulant look passed over his face so quickly I would've missed it if I'd blinked. So he did know, after all, and just didn't want to admit it. "After all, that's why you're asking me, isn't it?"

Derek crossed an arm over his chest in an attempt to seem more calm. It did not work. His knuckles were angry white. "Why don't they exist then, Smart-Ass?" Derek bit out, staring violently into the empty space in front of him. I wondered for a moment what exactly Derek wanted me to say to him but somehow knew, instinctively, that I couldn't offer it to him. All I could and would give him was the truth... and maybe the answer to his question was never really mine to give.

This complicated train of thought was getting harder and harder for me to follow. I inhaled, pinching the bridge of my nose, and began to explain in more detail, closing my eyes and slipping into teacher mode. "Immovable objects can't exist because even the smallest amount of pressure results in motion. And in order to resist inertia and be immovable, such an object would have to have infinite mass. I don't think I need to say why an object like that couldn't exist, but... an object that big would be too big... it would collapse in on itself due to the size of its own gravity," I told him, glancing up at him when I'd finished. I refrained from saying it would become a black hole or swirling vortex of doom because I think about black holes and dark matter and other purely theoretical topics entirely too much, and well, talking about such dark things is going to put Derek in an even blacker mood. "You get what I'm saying now?"

He actually looked interested in what I had to say, like he was hanging on to every word. There was a kind of feverish look in his eyes, a glint of something fleeting. He nodded, looking vaguely thoughtful, like he was planning something. Maybe there was something I'd told him that encouraged him or gave him reason to think something differently. I don't know; I don't get what's going on in his brain. His eyes narrowed faintly. "And what about irresistible forces?" he demanded urgently, a burning look in his eyes.

I managed to crack a smile. "Even you aren't irresistible all the time, are you, Derek?" I drawled, faintly amused, persisting, "People do tell you no sometimes, don't they?" I let out kind of an indulgent chuckle, but Derek's face was unmoving, as if he could will his every subatomic particle to stop vibrating in space and just stand still. He'd flinched outright when I'd asked the first question as a joke and then just shut down entirely, like I'd killed whatever had been fluttering around in his head, gaining ground. "Seriously, though," I continued a bit more soberly, feeling bad for him, "if you really want to know..." His eyes, sharp and dark, cut across to let me know he did. "An irresistible or unstoppable force would require an infinite amount of energy."

I don't believe in infinity; everything in life is finite. I guess I was trying to say without really saying it that Derek doesn't have an infinite amount of energy and that he can't go on like this forever. But you know how Derek is; if he doesn't want to hear something, then he just doesn't hear it. "A pace like that... it's impossible to keep up," I added softly a moment later, looking him over. Derek was proof of my statement. Whatever he'd been doing lately, whatever had been eating him, was draining him, wearing him down. You could see it in his face. But, still, despite the fatigue, Derek was all hard edges and sharp angles and stubbornly insistent on getting whatever he had in mind. "And Derek, believe me, nothing in this life is infinite. We live in a finite universe composed of numbers and limits," I continued wearily, almost pleading with him to stop whatever it was he was pursuing. Some contest of wills, no doubt.

Still, that fact seemed to steel him somehow. It shouldn't have, but it did. "We all have our limits," he murmured thoughtfully, expression turning enigmatic and scheming. His eyes and jaw were still as hard as ever, shaken but determined. "So how do you answer the question then? What happens when an irresistible force meets an immovable object?" he insisted bluntly, restating his question. This time he wasn't going to take no for an answer. He was living in his own world beyond the laws of physics and making his own rules, as always.

At first I was annoyed because it was like he'd heard everything I said but hadn't listened to a single word. I opened my mouth to protest or make some comment, but Derek silenced me with a dark look. The look on his face was that of a man going to war, resolute, settled, vaguely grim, and willing to do whatever it took to ensure his survival. I swallowed hard; the look on his face scared me. Why is this so important to him? He looked like a stranger all of a sudden, this brother of mine, and the way he was acting made me wonder if I had ever really known him. "Nothing good, that's for sure," I told him gloomily.

The ghost of a smirk appeared on Derek's face. His eyes found mine again. This time they were a little lighter, as if amused almost, but filled with secrets I probably couldn't begin to comprehend. He looked away quickly, though, lest I somehow uncover whatever he was planning via his uncommunicative gaze. "The third law of motion gives you satisfaction. For every force made, there's an opposite reaction," Derek recited in a wry sort of sing-song voice, rubbing his chin. I gave him a strange look, which he barely seemed to register. The half-smile fell off his face slowly and he made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "You can go now, Ed." He'd gotten all he wanted to know from me.

I'd tried my best to warn him, but somehow I sensed that whatever he was on about wasn't going to work out well. After all, no one's irresistible or immovable, no matter how much they want to be. And just because there's an equal and opposite reaction for every force exerted doesn't mean you know what that force is going to be or how it'll be channeled. And, honestly, even if Derek knew or could guess, I wasn't sure he'd want to know or be prepared to deal with that force. I glanced back at him worriedly before getting up and heading up to my bedroom. Thinking about Derek isn't going to help anything; I might as well at least focus on the things I can fix.

When I walked into my room, a bored-looking Liz was lounging on my couch, watching some mindless TV show. She'd changed into a camisole and shorts, so I was immediately struck by the amount of skin I was seeing. When she heard me enter, Lizzie didn't even bother to look up from whatever she was watching (probably some special on Animal Planet). She was still a little pissed so she pretended like she was impervious to my presence. "Hey, Liz, you wanna watch something a little better than lion porn?" I asked casually, thrusting the half-full popcorn bowl into her lap. She looked at me then, giving me a vaguely sour, distasteful look. "How 'bout Iron Man instead?"

Her frown deepened, and she looked away from me determinedly, fixing her stare on the screen. I guess that comment I made about lion porn got to her... probably also since the program was on tigers. I was just glad she didn't notice that I was still unashamedly staring at the length of her legs stretched out across my couch. "It's not Superhero Week," she said petulantly, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth. Superhero Week usually occurred around New Years' Eve, since both of us thought watching the ball drop was lame and had no desire to go to an equally lame friend's party, though it did make a resurgence in the event of the opening of a superhero movie.

Her body had tensed a little when I'd come in, despite her best efforts to remain impassive, and the lines of her body were still taut. "So what?" I shrugged, flopping down onto the couch next to her and nearly upsetting the bowl of popcorn on her lap. She gave me a dirty look before going back to her television, scooting away from me as if I had a highly contagious deathly illness. "I like Iron Man, and you like Robert Downey, Junior." Unlike usual, I did not point out the man's many flaws, such as the fact that he is old enough to be her father. "I'm not seeing the problem with this..."

Liz turned around to give me an irritated look. She did this in silence so as to annoy me further because obviously I can't do anything if I don't know what the problem is. I knew it had something to do with Zoë, but, frankly, I didn't get why she could still be mad at me about that, and I couldn't think of anything further to say on the subject. I've talked more about that relationship in the past day than I ever did in the entire duration of said relationship. "C'mon, Liz, there's no rule that says we can't start Superhero Week a little early... And maybe this time we'll get to watch Daredevil or Elektra," I continued coaxing.

She rolled her eyes at me, chucking a handful of popcorn in my face. It hurt more than one would think. "I hate Ben Affleck," she hissed, turning away from me. "Besides, there's already the various Superman and Batman Days, X-Men Day, Spiderman Day... which I already think is kind of a waste of time, but you've got a soft spot for the spider-freak... and Random Marvel Superhero Day..." she listed off on her fingers, sounding more bored than she actually was. We both hated the Fantastic Four (yes, I hate that movie, despite Jessica Alba's presence), so that was out.

"-Wonder Woman. We could rent the TV series," I suggested quickly. Lizzie turned to look at me and scoffed loudly, a look of disgust passing over her face.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Figures you'd say something like that." I threw Lizzie a confused look, wanting her to elaborate, which she all too easily ignored. "Ugh, you just wanna see Lynda Carter in that skimpy little outfit. I mean, sheesh, do you secretly like bondage or something?" she continued disgustedly. This time I gave Lizzie a dirty look. Yes, Lizzie, I enjoy being dominated by Amazons because clearly my life is not already run by women enough, what with you, Tanya, Marti, Casey, Nora, and, on the rare occasions when she decides to insert herself, my birth mother.

"Since when do you have a problem with Wonder Woman? She's basically you in a swim suit and boots," I quipped mildly amusedly. Of course, my motives aren't purely good; I'd prefer to watch a brunette fox to some of the other truly abominable superhero movies we have to choose from. Lizzie raised an eyebrow at me, not-so-subtly glancing down at her own physique, which is considerably more athletic and less... voluptuous than the brunette bombshell that is Wonder Woman. That being said, Lizzie, like Wonder Woman, is a blue-eyed brunette, environmentalist, and Amazon on a relentless quest for truth and justice, strong, active, brave, relentless, and a little bit sassy. I don't know why she can't see the parallels. I gave her a look. "Liz, you own red boots, a lasso, and silver bracelets..."

She rolled her eyes at me. I frowned at her. "And, besides, you vetoed my suggestion for watching Xena: Warrior Princess. And Indiana Jones and Lara Croft: Tomb Raider aren't allowed... And you think Adam West as Batman is too ridiculous to stomach..." I continued in a wheedling tone of voice that made Lizzie shove me to shut me up. She doesn't consider the aforementioned characters superheroes because they don't have superpowers or comics based on them. Plus I think she has a problem with me ogling Angelina Jolie and Lucy Lawless, even if it's just on screen.

She huffed, "You can like her all you want, Ed, but I am not a Princess-y kind of girl, Edwin! Not even if she fights crime and kicks ass." I'd forgotten that Wonder Woman was, apparently, a princess. But it's not like I didn't know that about Lizzie. Princess is a watchword with her because it's inevitably bound up in comparisons to Casey, whom both Derek and her father call Princess. Given that these are the two men in the world whom Lizzie most esteems, and the best she gets from either of them is Kiddo or Sport, it's pretty evident why this is an issue.

I frowned at her, seizing on something. "What's with all this "you" business, Liz?" I asked. She was making things oddly personal, I found. Liz stiffened back up again, and I took the opportunity to get more comfortable on the couch. Before she could even formulate a response, I'd grabbed her feet and placed them in my lap.

This gesture took Lizzie by surprise enough to elicit an answer out of her. She sighed, looking a bit uncomfortable with my hands still on her feet but not uncomfortable enough to move away. "Oh, come on, like the fact that Wonder Woman is a dead-ringer for your ex-girlfriend somehow escaped you?" she bit in sarcastically, like she was kind of ashamed to admit it. My eyes widened in surprise. I hadn't been expecting it to come back to her, but of course Liz would take things back to what she's mad about in the first place. I blinked, more disturbed by the realization I'd just had—that Zoë and Lizzie were far more alike than I'd ever really realized (and sad, too, since that had been one of the things I'd liked best about Zoë, that she'd had nothing whatsoever to do with Lizzie)... in coloring, in attitude, in calling me on my BS. Then she was snapping her fingers in front of my eyes, and it was better to not dwell on those comparisons. "Hello, Earth to Edwin!"

I snapped out of it quickly. "Ugh," I said nudging her shoulder with mine and whining a little, "Come on, I wanna watch Iron Man." Lizzie rolled her eyes but this time I caught the amusement and traces of fondness in her expression. Had she gotten over the Zoë thing? I had a nasty feeling she hadn't exactly gotten over it and would undoubtedly bring it up at some incredibly inconvenient time to pick a fight with me, but what else could I say about her?

Liz let out a long sigh, making a big show of humoring me. "Okay. Fine," she conceded. I allowed a victorious smile to cross my lips, but Lizzie held up a finger. "As long as you promise to never again make me sit through that god-awful Hulk movie ever, ever, ever again. As much as I love the color green, and, for that matter, Eric Bana, I effing hate that movie. And rageaholics. Guys like that make me want to just punch people in the nuts," she added a moment later, giving me a stern look and holding out her pinkie for the promise. I snorted but shook her pinkie with my free finger anyway.

She smiled at me crookedly, snuggling into me a little bit more. "Besides," she sighed, eyes fluttering a little, "I can't say no to you when you're massaging my feet like that. Your Hands. Are. Magic." I hadn't realized I'd been massaging her feet, but it had come to me naturally, kneading and rubbing the sore muscles. Liz moaned a little, stretching in with pleasure and ease like a sleepy feline. I tried valiantly to ignore the slight affect that sound had on me, pulling away so I could get up, find the movie, and put it in. Lizzie whined faintly in protest, but I was back at her side soon enough to shut her up.

It was nice to watch a movie with her and not have to think or pay attention or analyze every little thing, to assume that every motivation didn't have to be discovered or sniffed out. I was drifting in and out of the movie, half paying attention, when Liz straightened a little, glancing at me suddenly. "I think you just like this movie because you see yourself in him," she said pointedly, gesturing to the screen. It wasn't so much an accusation as a statement; she was kind of annoyed I'd stopped massaging her feet.

I gave her a confused look, trying to piece what she'd just said into something coherent. Apparently my mind had decided it was going on vacation after being in overdrive all day. "I do not! I'm nothing like his character. I have my life together, a fairly large group of family and friends, and I am not an alcoholic playboy," I attempted to protest. It came off rather feeble from a lack of energy since I was more or less on the verge of falling asleep. If anything, I thought dimly, looking at the movie, this guy's more like Derek than me!

Liz threw me a skeptical look. "Really, Ed? If I'm Wonder Woman, you're Iron Man," she said challengingly if not a bit mockingly. I made a half-assed effort to roll my eyes but couldn't manage to care enough to do it successfully. Lizzie kept looking at me, perhaps disappointed by my lack of a verbal protest. "Do I have to list it all out for you?" I nodded, wondering in which way I was truly like the character of Iron Man. "Yeah? Okay..." she affirmed, thinking for a moment before continuing. This ought to be good. "You're a genius, for one, and don't deny it, you are," she told me with a look. I'm not positive, but I don't think I have the requisite IQ number for such a qualification, but I was too tired to debate the veracity and accuracy of Lizzie's statement and measurement methods. "You're good at fixing things and good with your hands," she continued. A bit of a flush spread across her cheeks, and I allowed myself a smile and half an eyebrow waggle.

She glared at me, naturally. I may have a natural aptitude for fixing things, and yeah, I can look at something and more or less figure out how it works, but the main reason I'm so good at fixing things is because I worked at a hardware store for six months, and I had a few computer repair jobs. "You were in Robotics Club, don't think I forgot, and I know you're looking at tech schools, despite your supposed disinterest in technology slash engineering," Liz continued pointedly. Her eyes were like lasers, cutting right through me. I flinched at the reference to the incredibly poor decision I made my first year of high school to join the Robotics Club. She said that on purpose just to bug me; she knows I hate being reminded of that incident. The saddest thing about it, too, is that our school doesn't even have a decent Robotics Club. That was the worst part of being in Robotics (and I know you're wondering what was the good part?).

I stared at Lizzie openmouthed, disbelief written as plainly across my face as Newton's Laws of Motion in Principia Mathematica. How the hell did she know that? Had she been looking through my applications? I thought we'd both agreed we weren't going to talk to each other about that stuff, applications and all that. It was doubly weird that she knew I was exploring all my options too because I hadn't told anyone apart from Paul, and that was just because he was my guidance counselor and saw the applications I was submitting... so I didn't really have a choice. Liz must know then where I've applied or else she's become much more adept at snooping through my personal things than I'd ever imagined, especially given her loathing of violating privacy.

Lizzie hadn't stopped talking, however. She listed off qualities on her fingers. "Let's not forget your entrepreneurial spirit, or the fact that you're interested in stuff like aeronautics, space, rockets, and nuclear science... You have issues with your dad and authority figures." I made a face at that comment despite its evident truth. She carried on undeterred, naturally. "Oh, and despite what you say, Ed," she said, fixing me with a dirty look, "you do kinda get around... short relationships, a fling every now and then, not to mention Sylvia and Michelle and Tanya... you even like the same type of girls as the character!"

I gaped at Lizzie, unable to believe she'd just said that I get around. I was mildly insulted that she thinks I'm really that easy, but I suppose she must assume that all of my sexual liaisons are one-night stands since I can count the number of vaguely serious relationships I've been in on one hand. Still, her thinking that of me makes me feel a little dirty and kind of scummy... and is that why she thinks she can use me for that kind of thing? Does she in her drunken, sleepy consciousness think it doesn't mean anything? If that's true, then I can't decide which of us is more messed up, her for thinking so or me for my absence of meaningful relationships.

My brow furrowed. I was glad she hadn't mentioned Zoë, whom I had actually had sex with, but only one of the girls she'd mentioned I'd ever had sex with, and Michelle was the only one I'd ever really had a relationship with. It made me glad she didn't know about Rebecca. "Forgive me, but doesn't he like all kinds of women?" I interjected a bit sharply, gesturing to the character. Liz looked back at the screen and nodded but did not deny her accusation. It annoyed me too because the only redhead I've ever had anything with was Rebecca, and I don't think that counts 'cause I was so drunk I would've slept with a horse, just about.

"And don't think I haven't seen you checking out my legs and Gwyneth Paltrow's in that skirt," Liz countered knowingly, shifting her legs and drawing my attention back to them so she could actually catch me staring. I was slightly mortified and had nothing to say to that. So she'd noticed that too? Since when had Lizzie become so observant? Or had I just become more obvious? While I was slightly horrified with this train of thought and still guiltily eying Lizzie's legs, she continued, "And you're a smart-ass but charming when you want to be. And then there's the fact that you kinda look like him, and that his first name is your middle name... Am I missing anything here?" She turned to look at me expectantly, smug grin firmly in place.

I raised a brow. I didn't know you knew so much about me, Liz. It occurred to me then that I didn't exactly know how Lizzie thought of me, even after all of these years, and for some reason, that bothered me. On the one hand, she had complimented my looks, intelligence, skills, and general personality, but on the other, she had embarrassed me and more or less called me a manwhore. And there was no escaping the fact that a lot of what she'd said had hit a little too close to the mark. "Anthony is only one of my middle names..."

That was the only one of her statements I bothered to acknowledge. Liz pursed her lips and gave me a vaguely cross look. The gesture made her look a bit like a scolding teacher. She smacked my chest lightly, pressing more of her weight on me as she leaned towards me. "Yeah, and you won't tell me the other one! And George doesn't remember, and it's not like I can exactly call your mom up..." she protested vaguely irritably. It bothered Lizzie, knowing that I had two middle names, and she didn't know the second one.

To be fair, I'd long ago decided that my second middle name was superfluous (and I was the only one of my siblings with two middle names, and I'd already gotten the short end of the stick with Edwin, so I didn't need another horrible name to hold on to), odious, and generally repulsive to me. It's long, and no one remembers it but me, just about, so it was one of those things that was just better left unsaid to not confuse anyone. I kept it secret not just out of simplicity and my sheer hatred of the name but also out of the fact that I liked keeping something to myself. "Why do you really want to know my second middle name?"

Liz rolled her eyes at me, giving me an exasperated look. I tried not to smile. Part of the reason I had never told her was because it was amusing to watch her get all annoyed about it, and it made me feel a little bit less like she knew everything about me. "Because you won't tell me, stupid, and I'm your best friend, and I'm supposed to know everything about you," she retorted, sounding annoyed with me. I fought the urge to chuckle. "And I already know it starts with F 'cause you told me that one time when you were really drunk..." she went on a bit smugly. I thought fondly that she sounded a bit like her older sister in Detective Mode.

I cocked my head at her, not even vaguely remembering the occasion she'd mentioned. I wasn't supposed to have told her that. I must've been really drunk to even tell her that much. "Did I?" I asked, faintly amused, in a tone that was clear I was humoring her. She's going to start guessing now, though, which is the problem. Sadly, there aren't too many names that start with F, and she's bound to hit on it eventually...

She nodded abruptly. "-But I can't find your birth certificate-" she continued rapidly, an annoyed look flitting across her features.

"Yeah, I think Dad lost it several years back..." I interrupted fondly. Dad may have lost it, or I may have... appropriated it. I don't really remember, but it's amusing to me that Lizzie would attempt to track it down. I wonder what she'd do if she realized I was hiding a lot of other things from her. Would she be similarly determined to figure out my deepest, darkest secrets? Or is the fact that she thinks she already knows them the reason why she hasn't started looking?

"-and I doubt Derek even knows..." Lizzie trailed off, frowning. I tried to remember if Derek did, but could only come up with a maybe. Realistically I don't think Derek is that interested in my life, and since Dad could never remember it when he attempted to discipline me... I don't know, though; Derek likes to surprise you with little things like that sometimes. I smirked at Lizzie, who looked put-out for a moment before she jumped me and started tickling me.

Unfortunately for her, however, I'm really not ticklish, so it just felt unpleasant. I managed to push her backwards, and she fell back on her heels, bending farther back than I'd ever imagined she could. She raised an eyebrow and stared at me in silence for a moment before kicking me lightly and turning back to the movie. "Francis." I shook my head almost imperceptibly and saw her frown out of the corner of my eye. "Felix." Once again I shook my head. "Floyd?" she asked a bit more uncertainly. That one got a guffaw. "Fernando?" I rolled my eyes at her.

"What, do I look like an ABBA song to you?" My mother, who had inevitably been the one to insist on the ridiculous name, just as she'd insisted on the ever-archaic Edwin, had saddled me with the unfortunate name because it was an old, dignified name that apparently ran back in our family for centuries or something, all the way back to when they were in England or wherever. However, since, in my own head at least, I've disowned Mom, I think I've disowned that entire side of the family. Lizzie opened her mouth to guess again, but I got up. "I'm going to get something to drink. You want something?"

"I'll pause the movie for you," Liz said a bit grudgingly. I rolled my eyes, knowing how little attention she'd been paying to the movie. She looked at me contemplatively. "Hot cocoa?" she asked, quirking her head and looking at me in a way that reminded me of a faithful dog or Marti when she was small and actually pleasant to be around. I nodded slowly and headed to the door, intending to leave. Lizzie's voice stopped me in my tracks. "Don't take too long, Fortinbras!"

I snorted, not even bothering to turn around. "Nice try, Liz, but you're gonna have to do better than that!" I could sense her pouting and wondered vaguely how long she'd keep up with it. Something (or someone, I suppose) would come along to distract her soon enough, and she'd probably have entirely forgotten about it tomorrow. As my feet touched the bottom landing, I noted with some displeasure that Vicky and Truman had returned. Truman was leaning against the banister, entirely too close to where I was standing, a moony yet faintly displeased look on his face.

My brother was still attempting to watch TV but was being distracted by Vicky's presence on the arm of the couch. It was impossible not to notice that she'd hiked her skirt up a bit, revealing plenty of tanned thigh. Derek's eyes kept flicking back over to them, as if he was entranced, but I had a sneaking suspicion he was thinking about someone else's (more muscular) thighs. Ew, I don't want to even think about anything remotely resembling Casey's thighs. Vicky was laughing at something Derek had said, probably to get her to go away since she was ruining his ritual. "You know, Derek, we could have a lot of fun together..." Vicky drawled, finding Derek's arm and tracing it lightly.

I glanced over to Truman, to see how he'd handle watching his girlfriend flirt with another guy. He looked vaguely annoyed and maybe a little sad, but he didn't seem to care enough to say anything about it. I could see that it did bother him a little, though, with the way his lips were a thin white line. Derek didn't even roll his eyes. "Oh, I remember," Derek said distractedly, pausing for a moment to lick his lips. He hadn't taken his eyes off the television screen. Vicky was staring at his lips none-too-subtly, a triumphant smile on her lips, and the expression on her face made me a little nauseous. "But I'm not really in the mood, Vicky," he finished boredly.

Vicky gaped at him a little, and I heard Truman stifle a chuckle. Vicky stiffened, having heard it, but didn't deign to look at her boyfriend. "Funny," she said tightly, pausing theatrically before adding darkly, "From what Casey's told me, you're always in the mood." At the mention of our stepsister's name, Derek's eyes immediately shot over to Vicky, as if gaging what she knew. He stared at her for a moment in silence, either judging or debating which question to ask. Vicky smirked, leaning forward so that her legs brushed against Derek's arm. "So, is my cousin right about you?" she asked conspiratorially, raising a brow in a sort of challenge.

The mention of Casey's name had also caused something in Truman's gaze to flicker back into life, but he continued to coolly regard his girlfriend and my brother with blithe acceptance. Derek shrugged, maintaining her stare. "Casey's always right, isn't she?" he muttered sarcastically, a bit mockingly. The darkness in his voice raised Vicky's hackles a little bit; there was something downright chilling in his tone. A bitter little smile formed on Derek's lips as he continued, "Except when it comes to me." Vicky gave Derek a queer look, as if she couldn't quite figure out what to make of him; this answer had clearly thrown her. I could tell what Derek really meant; he didn't want anything to do to Vicky after what she'd just done to Casey, but Derek wasn't about to say that, of course.

Vicky ran a hand down his arm caressingly, and Derek pulled it away, a pinched expression passing over his face. She made some other completely obvious attempt to come on to him, but Derek had finally had enough. He turned to glance at Vicky just barely with a look of thinly-concealed revulsion. She had interrupted his vigil, his private ritual, and he wasn't about to forgive that. "I know that Truman is just a poor man's version of me, and you want an upgrade... but seriously, Vicky, you're with him. At least pretend to act like it," Derek sneered with an uncharacteristic bluntness, rising from his recliner like a king. He usually relied on his cleverness rather than the bluntness of his words to intimidate and insure his will be done.

The expression on Truman's face darkened and tightened bitterly when Derek said this, as if it was a kind of sore point with him—and it had to be, because, judging from the trace of smugness in my brother's expression, it was some sort of reference to Truman and Casey's relationship. Derek stalked over to the stairs, not even bothering to flick off the television. That job was clearly intended for lesser mortals such as myself because everyone knows Ice Queen Victoria isn't going to do it. Truman stopped my brother at the base of the stairs (I'd wisely moved up to the landing, though none of them had noticed me whatosever) with a firm arm on his shoulder. "Must you always get in the middle of my relationships?" He sighed vaguely irritably. "It was bad enough when you were always hanging around Toronto, sniffing around Casey, even though she wanted nothing to do with you... Trying to get her to break up with me," Truman jeered quietly, so Vicky wouldn't hear.

She rolled her eyes, of course, not caring one whit about her boyfriend talking about his ex (if she heard, at any rate). An microexpression vaguely akin to a flinch appeared on Derek's face, but it disappeared quickly, like a flash of light. I gaped at Truman and turned to stare at my brother. He'd gone down to visit Casey in Toronto, unsolicited? And not just once but enough times for Truman to comment on it and be annoyed by it? I'd always known Derek to be persistent, but perhaps all of that persistence had been used up on that fruitless quest for... did Derek even know what he was looking for there in Toronto? Derek must've been down there all the time, then... how did none of us pick up on this? No wonder Derek was such a ghost around town that second semester!

Another thing Truman had said troubled me: firstly, the fact that Truman knew Derek was there, which probably meant they'd had a significant amount of interaction, most likely when Casey wasn't there. I've never known the two of them to have a conversation, let alone be in each other's company for more than five minutes in a public place. They go out of their way to avoid interacting... so what had changed over the years? The second thing that bothered me was what he'd said about Casey wanting nothing to do with him. It didn't particularly come as a surprise to me, given her behavior towards him over the past few years, but did that mean that Casey had refused to see Derek whenever he'd visited? How long had this strangeness been going on between them? What else didn't I know?

Then there was the final nagging question linked to the comment Truman had made about Derek trying to get Casey to dump him. How, exactly, had my brother gone about doing that? How was Truman so certain? And, also, given everything else Truman said, it's clear that Derek was unsuccessful in his goal and that's... just not Derek. I wondered if that meant there was any truth to the rumor I'd heard that Casey breaking up with Truman had occurred as a result of a conversation with Derek. That sort of thing had been known to happen before, after all. The girl had dumped Max, gone out on a platonic-non-date with Noel, and gotten back together with Truman all after talking with Derek, as if he exercised some bizarre power over her love-life. On second thought, with a head as swollen as Jupiter, he probably sucked her into his orbit, into the universe where he's the sun and everything and everyone revolves around him.

Derek scowled at him and jerked his shoulder out from Truman's grip. He managed a bit of a sneer. "Funny, isn't it?" Derek chuckled, eyes flickering menacingly, pausing deliberately before leaning in and getting in Truman's face a little. "How without even trying, I still manage to get between you and your girlfriend?" he drawled, a proud smirk forming on his lips, rising up in smugness. He glanced briefly at Vicky, just to show that he could more or less have her at his disposal if he wanted, but Truman didn't notice. Vicky's preening under my brother's briefest of looks wasn't the reason why a murderous expression passed over Truman's face. "You ever wonder what the reason for that is, Tru? What I've got that you don't?" Derek continued, voice taking on a decidedly mocking undertone. He was dangerously close to outright insulting Truman and starting something.

Truman smiled grimly, though it was more baring his teeth at my brother than anything remotely resembling a pleasant expression. He'd crossed his arms over his chest evenly and took a step towards Derek. "No," he said slowly, coolly, "but I do find the time to think about the things I've had that you never will." Derek's eyes flashed dangerously, like a tiger before pouncing or fireworks just starting to ignite. Truman allowed that smug grin of his to spread across his features. The look on Derek's face intensified to a determined expression that revealed his desire to punch Truman in the face.

Instead of coming to blows as I more than half expected, Derek eased his face into a blank expression. "Never say never," Derek replied enigmatically. I almost rolled my eyes at the quote. He said it like he meant more than it did, expression (wiggling eyebrows, smug grin) plain that he wanted Truman to interpret the phrase suggestively. I was, frankly, surprised Truman bought it, given how my brother had, at least momentarily, shown that Truman's words had gotten to him. Truman couldn't sense when someone was lying to him, even after all of his personal experience? Then, having gotten the last word, Derek turned on his heel and went upstairs, leaving a flummoxed, slack-jawed Truman in his wake. Vicky flounced by me, throwing Truman barely a scornful glance in her haste to follow my uninterested brother, who I'm sure locked the door behind him.

Again, how no one noticed me, I have no idea, except for the fact that people only notice me when it's convenient. Truman sagged against the wall, letting out a weary, tortured sigh. I frowned, having the nasty feeling that my brief trip to get beverages was about to turn into some schmaltzy emo fest. Watching Truman carefully, I tried to gage whether or not he was going to cry or make some equally melodramatic show of emotion, simply overcome at being in Casey's house, or the same building as her for the first time since he moved out. Then, surprising me, he turned around, stalked over to the recliner and kicked it once, twice, then three times, fairly hard.

I rolled my eyes, unimpressed at his displacement. Wow, equating Derek's chair with Derek and causing yourself pain in the process as you are kicking an inanimate object, that's really novel! And, to think, my sister almost married this Einstein! I couldn't help but chuckle when he, like his girlfriend before him, winced at the pain and went around cursing under his breath none-too-subtly and hopping. I didn't hear what he was saying, but I didn't need to. I've cursed my own brother enough to know all the right words. At the sound of my snicker, Truman whirled around, angry look still on his face, trying to puff himself off and pretend I hadn't just witnessed him kicking a chair.

The attempt to save face had only happened because he thought I was Derek or some other family member who would use this against him to make him feel as vaguely pathetic as he is. As it was, Truman almost fell over in doing this, so I just about laughed my ass off. I came down the stairs then because, well, the jig was up, and I had promised Lizzie hot cocoa. Besides, messing with my sisters' ex-boyfriends, now that's amusing stuff, especially if they still obviously want to get back with them, as Truman so obviously did. He might've made fun of Derek earlier, but he's the one who looks like a hangdog now, with that mopey, dopey expression on his face.

Your emotion touches me, really, it does, but it's called grow a pair, dude. For a moment I stayed silent, partly to leave him in suspense and partly because I wanted to decide which approach to use on him. I could've made a snarky comment, but Truman was sure to get plenty of those from my other family members, so I didn't really see the need. Derek was a lot better at it, and there was Lizzie to threaten him with pure force. I felt a little bad for him, but not bad enough to let him off easy. So I went with the direct approach. "Truman, what the hell are you doing here?"

Truman raised a brow, looking simultaneously surprised and somewhat embarrassed. One of the girls could've made him feel ashamed, I'm sure, but that wasn't what I was after. I frowned at him, cocking my head. "I mean, seriously, why on Earth did you ever think this was a good idea? Coming to our house as Vicky's boyfriend to stay with us for Christmas... surprise, surprise! You don't do that, man. You don't go to your ex-girlfriend's family's house for Christmas," I continued succinctly. It wasn't really telling him off so much as stating the obvious. It was an immense breach of break-up etiquette and politesse, since he hadn't asked permission but had tagged along on his girlfriend's back.

He kind of winced, but there was a new stubbornness that glinted in his eyes. This was, after all, the Truman who had attempted to make shots at my brother. The old Truman would've never done that, but, then again, I don't think he would've sat around and let his girlfriend flirt with another guy, much less a guy like Derek. He gave me this look that I'm sure he practiced in the mirror, a look as if to say he didn't give a damn what I thought about his behavior. He was giving the look to the wrong person. My frown deepened. "Truman, don't give me that look. Right now all you're managing to do is look like Derek. And you can't pull that off," I told him bluntly. He really doesn't have the face for it; he's still a bit too gaunt. "Do you really want to be the Derek wannabe my brother has accused you of being?"

That shut him up. Truman's mouth snapped or flapped shut, and the stupid look fell right off his face. I shrugged diffidently. "Besides, you've seen how well that approach has been working for Derek lately... and it's not going to help you get Casey back," I quipped a moment later. I realized all too late that it sounded like I was going to help him get Casey back, which wasn't at all what I intended to do. He perked up too, like he thought I was actually going to assist him, even though it was the farthest thing from my mind.

He stared at me for a good moment, gaging me, and I stupidly didn't take the chance to clarify that I wasn't going to help him get my sister. "What makes you think I want Casey back?" he asked suddenly, rather stupidly. I rolled my eyes at him and gave him a look. Do I look like an utter moron? Truman pouted slightly, caving under my look and at the ridiculous pretense that he'd come all the way to her family house with the intention of not making an attempt to get back with her. "Okay, so you're right." He sighed, sitting on the arm of Derek's recliner. "So what do I do?"

He was looking up at me like I had the answer to this question, like I even knew what Casey liked or actually approved of his suit. It reminded me distinctly and unpleasantly of a similar conversation I'd had with Jamie. Unlike that particular conversation, this time I was especially determined not to encourage him. "How the hell am I supposed to know that, Truman? I'm not God, and I'm not going to tell you how to get my engaged sister back," I muttered irritably, wondering not for the first time why people always seemed to turn to me for advice. I'm a pragmatist, too, so I'm not going to paint rainbows or say everything's possible and "you can do anything." I say what's true and what's likely to happen, as close to reality as possible... and reality is generally some shade of unpleasant. I can't help that; it's just the truth, and more often than not, people don't want to hear it or accept it.

Truman frowned now, sinking into the leather of the recliner's arm a little, looking a bit hurt. The pitiful attempt to make me feel guilty actually made me bristle because it was just him attempting to foist his problems onto my shoulders when the entire situation is actually his fault. What did he expect me to say? I exhaled shortly and tried to find some patience within myself so I could get the answers I sought. "Look, Truman, I'm not talking to you now because I want to help you with Casey." I decided it would be wise not to comment on what I thought his chances with Casey were, especially as I had estimated them to be hovering somewhere between the probability of snow in July and the odds of magic actually existing or there being an alternate universe where Derek and I had our personalities reversed.

I took a step closer to him, rationalizing that the closer I got to him, the quicker I would be able to return to Lizzie. He'd visibly deflated at my last pronunciation, but I merely shrugged, moving forward another step. "The way I figure it, I'm the only person in this house who doesn't entirely hate you." I didn't like him, certainly, but I didn't hate him like everyone else, perhaps because he vaguely reminded me of myself or because I found him too pathetic to bother hating. "Honestly, I don't know the first thing about attracting a girl like my sister, so I couldn't help you even if I wanted to. She's getting married anyway, and I'm not about to help you screw that up for her," I continued similarly frankly, figuring he deserved the truth at least. I thought privately that she already had one stepbrother setting out to ruin the ceremony and didn't need me inadvertently helping things along.

Given the look on Truman's face, he wasn't taking this in a remotely positive sense or appreciating my honesty. I inhaled deeply, almost biting my tongue. "But I'm here, and I'm willing to listen... because I figure someone ought to hear you out. You deserve that much, at least," I admitted a bit unwillingly, made uncomfortable by the sudden realization that I felt some sort of affinity with him, something I couldn't even explain. Oh great, now I feel empathy for losers like Truman who cause all their own misery. But, I suppose, better he practice his act on me than my sister, right?

Truman looked me over shrewdly, as if gaging whether or not he could trust me. I tried to convey that he couldn't, since, after all, I was her brother and best friends with perhaps the only person in the world who hated him more than Casey. The truth was that the whole thing was motivated by my natural curiosity more than anything else, since I couldn't entirely understand Truman's motives for waiting so long to reinsert himself into Casey's life and in this particularly difficult and surprising way. "So why did you come back now, why like this?"

He grunted, masking a flinch perhaps, and moved over to the couch, sinking into what would soon be his bed. The television was still on faintly, and Truman dimly fixed his eyes on it. I moved to sit in Derek's recliner, watching him twitch in discomfort, and took up roost there to stare him down. He didn't say anything for a long time, and I didn't think he was going to, so I started to get up. I froze when he started to speak, seemingly out of nowhere. "Because I'll never get another chance," he murmured intently. His gaze was dark and unwaveringly fixed on the television, full of carefully bottled emotion. He might as well have said it was his last chance (he was certainly aware of the finality of his situation).

That must be why everything's coming to a head now. It's different once those vows are said, and she starts to build a life with another guy. "I can't let her get married without at least trying... And knowing for sure that I did everything in my power... I can't go through my life wondering what would be different if I'd given it one last shot," Truman declared, turning to look at me slowly. The intensity rose in his voice, and I began to see how invested Truman really was in this sliver of a chance he had. I realized, on a different level, just how desperate an effort it really was.

"Why not earlier?" I asked him immediately, even though the answer came to me before I'd even finished asking the question. He'd been a coward who'd needed to lick his wounds, and he kept putting it off because she kept shooting him down... and time had gotten away from him, and suddenly he'd woken up one morning to find it had all changed. And now he wanted, needed to know if he still had any chance left with Casey, if even the slimmest possibility was available to him. He didn't want to live with regrets, and I couldn't blame him for that.

He hung his head and didn't say a word, thus confirming all my suspicions. I was starting to feel really bad for him, and it was a worrying sensation. Empathizing with the man who'd broken my sister's heart countless times was just bad form. "Truman, forgive me, but you've had a million last chances and blown them all. I get that this is different for you, but what really makes this one time any different from the others? This is desperate, that's what it is... All it's doing is pissing Casey off and leaving her severely emotionally unstable-" I stopped short, realizing that I needed to temper my bluntness as it was starting to verge into unkindness and a lecture.

Something else also came to me, and I smiled wryly. "-Although, getting Casey all hot and bothered and playing with her head did seem to be the only thing you were ever good at..." Truman half-smiled and then frowned rather solidly, uncertain how to take the statement. "But there are other guys who can do that for her," I added a moment later, causing Truman's frown to deepen even further. He grumbled to himself vaguely.

He glared at me and then turned back to the front to stare darkly into space. "I know all of that," he said irritably, as if I was patronizing him. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "But what else am I supposed to do? I know I screwed up. I get that I probably ruined things with Casey forever. I made my bed, and I'm lying in it. I get that... but this is all I've got. And it's all I can do," he continued in a tremulous voice, echoes of anger sounding like thunder underneath his carefully placid and thin words. He shrugged stiffly. "I love her. I need her. I never stopped loving her, and..." He looked up at me suddenly, an unguarded but determined look in his eyes. "If there's even the slightest chance that she feels the same way... I'm not going to give up. Not until she sees."

His eyes positively burned with the promise of it, but I was considerably more doubtful. It's easy to say that, Truman, when all you did before was give up. I tried not to show my doubt, though, and made some vague facial expression to humor him. The emotion in his voice I suppose tugged at my heartstrings a little, but he'd waited an awfully long time for someone who was supposedly in love with her, and it seemed to me patently selfish of him to assert himself now. "She's happy now, Truman," I told him in what I thought was a firm voice. I thought I sounded sure enough, despite not knowing exactly where her head was at.

Truman gave me a look this time and shook his head once, utterly certain. "She's just pretending. I only saw her once, for a few minutes, and I could tell." What could I say to that, really? I don't like to speculate on emotions, feelings, or people. They're so uncertain and annoyingly variable and nonsensical. Casey's hiding some things, that's for sure, but she did seem happy enough with Noel, deep enough in love to marry him, though I have to say I wondered at her setting such an early date compared to the last time she'd been engaged. She and Truman had never gotten to that point, even, and they'd dated so much longer.

I saw that I wasn't going to convince him of the folly of attempting to interfere now, or help him to realize how much his presence was hurting her, but perhaps I would be able to later or with someone else's help. If he wants to delude himself, to presume he still knows Casey after all these years, who am I to stop him? I opened my mouth to say something, but Truman spoke before I could get a word out, meeting my stare. "Letting her go was the biggest mistake of my life, Edwin, and not a day goes by that I don't regret it. I'm not going to be so stupid again. Casey is the love of my life, and I'm not going to let her slip away to someone who can't appreciate her," Truman told me with a raw, burning sort of honesty. I could certainly see that the pain was real, but at the same time I felt vaguely skeptical.

Sure, I thought it would be a stretch to say that Noel was the love of Casey's life, but in no way did I doubt the strength of Noel's feelings. My sister is a lot for any man to put up with, and Noel dealt with Casey better than anyone she'd ever dated. I was certain that he loved Casey every bit as much as Truman and would be a good husband to her. I snorted, "Really, Truman? Like you always appreciated my sister? Maybe if appreciating includes dating other girls and making out with her cousin at a party you took her to." He shrank a little at that and looked appropriately chastened.

Looking at him, I felt a wave of disgust come over me. "All your wounds are self-inflicted. You ruin things for yourself, Truman... and, honestly, no one's gonna think you deserve a second chance, least of all Casey," I pronounced darkly, unable to muster any pity for someone who'd ruined his own life by what... his cowardice, his indecision, his thoughts that he didn't deserve happiness, his unwillingness to try, or whatever other worthless reason he gave?

He shook his head at me, face tightening unpleasantly. "I know that, but I love her. And this is something I have to do. You'll understand someday," Truman stated definitively, almost smiling a bit at the end. He gave me a kind of patronizing look, presumably because I've never been in love or stupid enough to act so foolhardy. I would never presume that Truman and I love the same, though, and I like to think that if I was in love with a girl, I wouldn't pursue her if she was in a loving, seemingly happy relationship. I don't think I'd be selfish enough to want to ruin her happiness unless I was entirely sure that she... what? Felt the same? Would be happier with me? That I would be better for her? It's always been my lot to suffer in silence, and that's my cross to bear.

I shrugged, meeting his gaze evenly. I debated telling him the thought that was lingering in my head, knowing what it would probably do to him or keeping it to myself. Ultimately I decided he could use a heads-up and a warning. It was only fair, after all. "Whatever you say, Truman," I replied placidly. I paused for a long moment so my tone could attain the proper solemnity. "But when my brother wants something to happen, it generally does, whether you want it to or not. The sooner you learn that, the better." It felt vaguely prophetic as I said it, and I couldn't help but wonder if I'd just made a self-fulfilling prophecy; I don't believe in stuff and nonsense like that, but it still scared the ectoplasm out of me. Still, I reminded myself of the conversation Derek and I had had previous to my encounter with Truman; even Derek Venturi can't get everything he wants.

After that, the conversation came to its natural and necessary conclusion, and I got up and went to the kitchen to make Lizzie's hot cocoa and get myself a glass of milk. I suppose I could've used something harder, though. After a few minutes I went up, grabbing some chocolate crackers I knew Lizzie liked to make up for the fact I'd been so late. I awkwardly bade Truman, who was making up his bed on the sofa with a pillow and crappy blanket, goodnight, and headed back to Liz.

"What took you, Felipe?" she quipped, scowling a little but taking the hot cocoa and animal-shaped crackers nonetheless. I just smiled, really glad I had someone like Lizzie. I was starting to think that I was the most normal male in the house.

Loren ;*

So, next chapter we have a sticky Casey, a mischievous Edwin who can't seem to stay out of trouble, big sister Lizzie, constantly-smirking Derek, some disappointed 'rents, an insufferable Marti, cute Sebastian, and a guest or two just to shake things up a bit. But there's a little more Derek/Casey interaction and some more family interaction, sort of. Which is all part of the build up to Christmas and Christmas Eve. Which is gonna be nuts, yo.

Anyways, if you liked it, I would really appreciate a review. And if you hated it, I'd still appreciate a review. ;)