Casey couldn't sleep. It wasn't the rain against the windows of their apartment and it wasn't the slight snoring noise emanating from her husband's throat – the remaining legacy of the two-week cold he had endured.

It was the usual reason for her sleeplessness.

Sighing, she threw back the covers, grabbed her robe and left the bedroom for the living room. If this went on much longer she was going to need to get something to help her sleep because she couldn't function on this little rest. Derek commented on her grouchiness almost daily and it was starting to affect their relationship. She knew they were committed to each other, and she knew that nothing would break them apart. But that didn't mean she wanted to put him through the worry she knew he was developing. There was enough to worry about without her adding to it.

This apartment was different to the one they had first lived in when they came to New York. This one was only slightly bigger, but it too was clean, if inconvenient for the district where they both worked. But beggars could not be choosers. And Casey was more than a little aware that they were both too close to that pecuniary state than was comfortable. Less than five years after their unorthodox marriage and its subsequent repercussions and now both graduates of NYU, graduate school and the New York Times' intern programme, they were hardly living the life of Riley.

And money, or rather the lack thereof, was yet again keeping her awake.

.

They knew the life they wanted. They had discussed it often in the early years of their marriage, first as giggles under the comforter when Derek had joked about little Venturis, and then later on when they were trying to plan for the future in more serious tones centred round the desperate need for Casey to not forget her birth control.

They loved each other. They wanted children. But they could not afford a child right now. Besides, Casey had a career to make and so did Derek.

There was tension, but strangely, it only really served to bring them closer. They fought, because it was what they had always done, but not about the important things. They knew the game plan, they knew each other. In the important things, they were one – a marriage of souls.

Almost five years down the line, Casey Venturi loved her husband with a passion she had never thought possible. Derek Venturi honestly believed he would die before he hurt his wife.

But that didn't stop the worry about the bills, and the horrible truth that if Casey woke in the night, she would not be able to go back to sleep.

.

The first year of their marriage had continued as it started; a long period of settling into their new way of life, and reconciling it with their old way of life. They had gradually informed their friends and the wider family of their marriage, and for the most part, although people had expressed surprise there had been a large amount of support. Support had been in the form of cards and gifts, such as Aunt Madge, Mrs Higginbotham and their neighbours. Others had phoned for long chats and detailed description of how the romance had developed.

A few had not taken the news so well.

Emily had written a long vitriolic missive describing Casey's betrayal of her as a friend. Stating that the new Mrs Venturi had never liked Emily and how the relationship between Emily and Derek had broken down because Casey had got her claws into her step-brother. Emily blamed Casey for everything that had beset her friend's attempts to date Derek for the past five years.

Seeing his wife in tears as she read the letter, and not knowing its contents, Derek had pulled the sheets of paper from her hands and after glancing at Emily's words, he had burnt the letter in the kitchen sink.

"She was one who betrayed you." Derek said. "On numerous occasions. Her two-facedness was one of the things that put me off her. Ignore it, Casey. She isn't worth your time."

Casey had sighed and nodded, and though she was reluctant to admit it, her mind furnished many examples of the double standards from her best friend that Derek accused Emily of. And most of them Emily hadn't even bothered to hide very well.

To Casey's surprise, however, that it was Edwin who dealt with Emily. He had been there when Casey had received the letter, and he had seen the tears it provoked and the defensiveness towards his wife that his brother exhibited. And maybe too there was an element of self-interest in the defensiveness that Edwin also felt in standing up for the right for a brother to marry his step-sister. He bumped into Emily in Smelly Nelly's and told her loudly and extensively what he thought of her betrayal.

Most of London heard Edwin's outburst – or at least heard of it. There was a stack of Wedding congratulations cards after that, which Casey put down to Derek's popularity rather than her own.

Two cards made her pause and smile.

The first came from Sally, postmarked Nice, France and held enclosed a long letter addressed to Casey full of good wishes and luck, and a surprising admission that Derek's ex had always been jealous of the relationship he had with Casey and she had not been hugely shocked at their marriage. Sally was now married to a French doctor and had emigrated to France where shortly she would be delivered of their first child. Derek smiled at the letter when Casey showed it to him, and promised he would even add a short note of his own thanks and congratulations when Casey replied. Knowing what her husband was like for letter writing, Casey wasn't holding her breath.

The second of the two cards came from Paul. It too had a note with it, explaining that shortly after his two most favourite students had left high school he had taken himself back to college to complete a Masters in Psychology and he was now firmly established in the field of couples therapy for which he was immensely grateful to Derek and Casey. He enclosed a business card, promising reduced rates for special friends!


Back in the New York apartment, Casey watched the rain on the window. It was easing but it still made the October night look uninviting. She considered getting her laptop out to start writing, and was just debating whether to start on the assignment she had been given for the new beauty products column – a mindless task which hardly required the high level honours degree she possessed or even an IQ bigger than her shoe size. The alternative was to do a chapter of her novel which she was writing. In the lower moments when she had pecuniary-focussed sleepless nights, she daydreamed about completing the novel and earning an amount of cash when it was published.

She didn't want a huge amount, just enough to take the pressure off.

The glazing in the apartment wasn't great and as Casey leant against the window, she noticed her breath fogged the glass as the warm, moist air met the smooth surface which was cold from the temperature outside. She raised a hand to wipe the fog away, and then she saw a similar patch of fog slightly to her right, where she had not been standing. Again, she extended a finger to brush the condensation away, but it held firm and she frowned. As she examined the glass, a flicker of light caught her eye in the midst of the fog, and a hand of fear squeezed her stomach as she realised the patch of "fog" on her glass was smoke outside, and the distant flickering was that of flames. Some where, approximately two blocks away there was a fire.

At the same time as she realised this, she also realised that the fire was growing before her eyes, and then she saw a flash and a second plume of smoke. This was big, and was going to be dramatic, and hating herself for thinking it, Casey knew it was going to be big news. She was a trainee writer on the staff of a major newspaper, and a news story was breaking in front of her eyes.

"Derek!" She shook him by the shoulder.

"Too tired! In the morning." Derek murmured sleepily.

Casey shook him once more. "I'm not after sex, moron. I'm going out. There's a fire a couple of blocks down, it's too early in the morning for anyone to be covering it, I'm going to do it."

Derek sat up quickly. "Like fuck you are! It's…" He squinted at the alarm clock. "Jesus Princess! It's 2.30am! You can't walk the streets of New York on your own at 2.30am."

But Casey wasn't listening to him. She was pulling clothes out of her chest of drawers and disappearing into the bathroom. Derek sighed and climbed out of bed.

By the time Casey emerged five minutes later, he was dressed in jeans and an old Queens sweatshirt.

"You don't have to come." She said, but he could tell she was secretly pleased.

"My career too." He lied. "You'll need a camera guy."

She grinned at him and followed him as he grabbed the bag containing his stills camera and small video camera and headed for the door.

.

Casey was confident for the first block and a half, because she knew the rough area of the fire, but after that she had to just follow the smoke. There weren't even any sirens to follow, and she realised as she drew closer it was because the fire was in a large section of derelict warehousing. There were very few people around. The fire wasn't visible from ground level and the windy weather billowed the smoke through the alleys.

"Any ideas?" Derek asked as they paused yet again. Casey shrugged.

"What's down there?" She asked nodding down a dark alley.

Derek put his hand into his pocket to check for the flick knife he carried when he and Casey came home to the apartment late at night.

"Let's go find out."

At the end of the alley, they turned a corner and stared.

A warehouse the length of a block was largely alight. Its flames so bright it hurt to look at. There were other buildings near by and it didn't take much to imagine the flames leaping from one structure to the other.

Derek swore loudly, and for once Casey didn't reprimand him. He took his cell from his pocket.

"Get the street name." he ordered her.

"India Road." She replied looking up at the street sign and then she watched as Derek dialled 911 and called it in.

He hung up and looked at her frightened face in the glow from the flames.

"Do you think there's anyone inside?" She asked timidly.

Derek decided honesty was the best policy.

"If there is, they're toast. Regardless, neither of us is getting close enough to find out."

She nodded her agreement and then frowned as he reached into his bag, fishing out his video camera.

"Let's get this show on the road, shall we?" He asked her, jerking his head at the scene of destruction in front of him. Casey snapped to attention and reached into her coat pocket for her Dictaphone and then she carefully began to describe the scene.

Between them, they recorded the events from the 911 call to the arrival of the emergency crews and the subsequent attempts to douse the flames. It was a good half hour before any formal news crews arrived, which was about ten minutes after Casey heard one of the fire crew informing the police control point that they needed to extend the exclusion zone because they had found bomb-making equipment inside.

As first of the other news crews arrived and the light began to rise for the dawn, Derek slung a weary arm around his wife's weary shoulders and hissed. "Let's get out of here before this lot get chance to move on it." And then the pair of them hailed a cab and made for their offices.


The newsroom was bedlam. The editors were all clambering to get their reporters to the scene and to get a fresh angle. Each and every PC in the building had been commandeered, and Casey and Derek found their own desks, a short distance apart from each other were among the casualties.

"Fuck off Venturi." One of the upstart newbie reporters hissed. "Real work needs doing here. Go find some other desk to play at."

Derek raised an eyebrow and hollered across the newsroom in a voice, no one could miss. "Casey, honey? Can I edit this fire footage on your PC only this asswad doesn't understand the phrase 'hold the front page'?"

The newsroom fell silent.

The editor-in-chief crossed the floor. "Are you fucking with me, Venturi?"

Derek held his ground. "No."

"You've seriously got footage and pictures from the fire? You've been there?"

"Nah! I just couldn't be bothered to wash for the past month, Casey likes the grimy look."

Which was when Derek's ultimate boss noted the sooty appearance of his two newest recruits.

"Show me." He said and Derek led the way to his PC, knocking the upstart to one side as he connected the USB cable from his video camera to the terminal.

The footage was good. It was shot with a home movie camera, but it was a top of the range home movie camera that had been a birthday present to him from his father-in-law. Derek had been top of his graduate class for his media work, and the final report on his internship had praised both his stills and moving image work. The trouble was, in the newspaper business, you start from the bottom up.

What the editor-in-chief saw before him was a dream come true. It was a clear concise picture of the events of the fire and whilst he was in charge of a newspaper and couldn't use moving images, he could see that there would be good stills. Besides, the paper's owners also had connections at CNN. The editor would be dining off these images for a long time to come.

"We could do with words." Derek's boss said bluntly. The chief was not given to praise easily. The fewer words he said to you the better. Derek glanced over at Casey's desk where she had succeeded in regaining her PC. She was frantically typing away, putting her words onto the screen, pausing every now and then to listen to her own voice on the recording.

"Casey was with me." Derek said. "She spotted the fire from our apartment. It was us that called it in."

One of the sub-editors gasped. Derek continued. "You should know, the police believe it was a terrorist bomb factory."

The Editor-in-chief straightened. "Holy Shit! Carstairs!"

A small, beady man appeared.

"Yes boss?"

"Get Venturi and his partner whatever they need, desks, staff and time in the editing suite. They've got the front page. I need to go talk to the guys at CNN."

Twenty minutes later, Derek phoned London and woke up Casey's mother.

"Switch on CNN." He said simply.

"What?"

"Just do it Nora."

Nora sat up in bed and fumbled for the remote for the bedroom TV. She succeeded in switching it on in time to see the screen filled with a live feed from the still burning building. At the bottom of the screen, she could read the ticker announcing that the Department for Homeland Security had confirmed the CNN report that bomb-making equipment had been found in the warehouse fire. The newscaster then cut to a video report with the statement:

"We have the following report from our colleague at The New York Times, Casey Venturi who was first at the scene."

Then Nora's daughter's calm voice filled the bedroom.

And Nora started to cry with pride.


"What is it with you and penguin suits?" Derek asked Casey as they descended in the elevator. She laughed. He noticed she did that a lot more now.

"Aw! Come on…It is our anniversary." She pleaded.

Derek snorted. "Last year, we spent our anniversary at that little Italian place near the university, and you let me wear jeans."

"Last year, wasn't this important." She stated as the doors opened to the lobby and her heels clicked on the marbled surface of the hotel floor. She paused before they stepped through the front entrance. "And don't you dare disagree with me."

He held up a hand. "It's important. But only because it's five years of being married."

Casey's jaw dropped. "It's our wood and/or silver anniversary Derek. It's a big deal. Besides what about the rest of tonight?"

"I'm trying not to think about that." Derek said internally smirking at the fact his wife knew the meaning of all the wedding anniversaries – it stood to reason she would be a keener about that! He ran a finger around his collar nervously. "You're so much better at this than me."

Casey smirked. "I'd like that framed and put on our living room wall please."

He smiled. "There are some things I'm good at, babe." He said wagging his eyebrows.

"I know." Casey said. "I'm trying not to think about that. It's rather difficult when you wear the tux."

He chuckled and they were silent until they reached their destination.

"You look beautiful as always, Casey." Mike Morgan, Editor-in-chief New York Times said, bending to kiss her hand in a way that Derek thought was ridiculous in this day and age. Casey soaked it up though, so he bit his tongue. They followed their boss through and took their places at the table where their names were placed.

"This reminds me of another formal dinner in another hotel." Casey said to Derek.

"Yeah. Well, you won't mind if I come with you to the bathroom then." Her husband replied, remembering the events of that previous dinner.

Casey smiled and squeezed his hand.

.

They ate, though both of them were nervous, and afterwards they clapped with the other occupants of the room as required.

Then it was their turn.

"And the winners of the 2011 Prize for Journalism goes to Casey and Derek Venturi for their report into the 2010 India Road Bomb Factory Fire!"

There was a lot of clapping and cheering, and on automatic pilot, Derek and Casey stood and made their way to the stage. Derek could hear nothing over the pounding of the blood in his ears. But Casey, it appeared was cool and calm.

"I'd like to thank my partner, Derek, for letting me drag him out of bed that night [cue laughter], I'd like to thank our family for their support over the years, and I would like to thank our friends and colleagues at the Times for their help in turning two cub reporters into something worth reading and watching that night. Thank you!"

She stood to one side and Derek realised with horror that he was expected to say something. He stepped forward.

"What she said…" He said, and stepped back. The audience laughed. Casey nudged Derek.

"Seriously," He began again. "I'd like to thank Casey, for threatening to go cover the story on her own, because I was dreaming about Lara Croft at the time and I don't think anything else would have got me out of bed at that moment other than my wife trying to kill herself. [More laughter]." Derek looked at the engraved cup in his hand, and chuckled to himself. "You won't know this, but today is our fifth wedding anniversary. It's been five very event-filled years, and it seems that it is going to get even more exciting over the coming months with all the projects we have coming up. A little bird tells me that five years is the wood anniversary, or in some cultures silver cutlery." He held up the cup in his hand. "A silver cup on a wooden base seems like the perfect anniversary present to me. Thank you."

Casey turned to Derek and he planted a quick kiss on her cheek and followed her from the stage.


AN: Longest FF chapter I've ever written I think. But it all needed to go in one chapter.