What's that you say? The next chapter up after only a few days? You mean we don't have to wait a month?

I know, I know, it's crazy. And I've had it written for a couple days, but I wanted to wait a week before I posted it. But I figured I'd do it now while I had the time. So you can basically expect updates...whenever I feel like it :)

So, this chapter is a little more interesting than the last, in Dasey terms. Hope you enjoy, and review your little hearts out!

"You need to watch your language in front of the kids and in front of your stepmother, young man. I understand you've had a rough day, but there is no reason for you to go off like that at your sister, in a hospital no less!" George hissed at his son.

"She's not my sister!" Derek said slowly.

"Fine, then there's no need for you to go off on anyone like that!" George answered. "I'll give you some time to cool off, if you think you can control yourself. I'm going to get some coffee and find out when I can bring you home. And then I have to call Nora to come pick us up, because she had to take the kids home in the car." He added pointedly.

"Oh, nice, Dad." Derek said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Sorry this is all my fault. Sorry some idiot crashed into us and wrecked your ride home. I'll just lay on this gurney and think about what I've done."

George just shook his head before sighing in aggravation and leaving his son to stew in his own anger.

Derek punched the bed a few more times just for good measure. He immediately regretted doing so, as pain seared through his left side. He gritted his teeth and growled at the pain. He lay back on his pillow in frustration.

So typical. Typical, typical Casey.

But he was more angry with himself than anything else. Because he had seen her in the doorway, for once not her hoity-toity, snooty self, but actually looking human, and maybe looking concerned to see her stepbrother on a hospital bed. All the memories came rushing back to him: the truck hurtling towards them, crashing into the ditch, thinking Casey was dead, feeling helpless as they took her away from him. And she was looking at him like she understood. Understood what no one else could. How scared he was, and how worried he was about her. That he never stopped to think he could be hurting her or himself by carrying her out of the car, he just wanted to get them away from there.

And then what's the first thing to come out of her mouth? Criticism. Of course. He shouldn't have expected any less from her. Even after their ordeal that morning, and a long day of being poked and prodded by doctors and nurses. Still she had to make him out to be an idiot, make it look like the accident was all his fault. He should've known.

"Was that really necessary?" Nora asked her daughter as soon as they were on the road.

"What! Are you kidding? There is no way that was my fault." Casey turned to look accusingly at her mother in the driver's seat.

"I never said it was your fault. But there was no need for you to be shouting like that in the middle of a hospital, and in front of the kids!" Nora whispered, as if "the kids" weren't listening intently from the backseat.

"Like I was the only one shouting! And did you hear the kind of language Derek was using in front of 'the kids'?"

"I did, and I'm sure his father is speaking to him right now. But there is no need for you to stoop to his level." Nora glanced in the rear-view mirror to see Marti fussing in the backseat. "This conversation is over for now, but we will discuss this later."

Casey crossed her arms and stared angrily ahead of her at the rain splattering on the windshield.

It was a few hours later when Derek awoke to the feeling of someone fiddling with the I.V. in his arm. He opened his eyes to see the nurse taking out the I.V. and replacing it with a bandage. She smiled at him before she left. He turned to see his dad sitting in the chair next to him. "I was just gonna wake you up. The doctor cleared you to go home, if you're feeling okay."

Derek didn't even know he had fallen asleep. He must've been more tired than he thought. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. It was much quieter now than it had been earlier. Visiting hours must be over. "What time is it?"

George looked at his watch. "It's about 1 a.m. Are you feeling up to going home now, or do you want to spend the night?"

Derek shook his head. "I'm fine, I just want to go home. But there's no way Nora's coming out here at 1 a.m."

"Oh, sure she will." George said, smiling, "She told me to call her no matter what time it was. She's already called several times to see how you're doing. You know, I think she just might be worried about you." he joked.

Derek smiled half-heartedly as he threw his blanket off, looking in disgust at his hospital gown before trying to hoist himself out of the bed. But his attempt was thwarted by the searing pain yet again shooting through his side. George saw the face he made and rushed over to put his arm around his son and help him out of bed.

Derek already didn't like how this was going. "How long am I gonna have to deal with this?" he asked in frustration.

"I'm sorry buddy, but there's not really anything they can do for broken ribs besides just letting them heal, which isn't exactly the quickest process. But Doc gave us a prescription for some Vicodin, which we can fill on the way home, if you need it."

He helped Derek into the clothes Nora had brought for him, jeans and a t-shirt, and just as George was calling Nora to pick them up, a nurse came into the room with a wheelchair. Derek took one look at it and shook his head. "Uh-uh. There is no way I'm going out of here in a wheelchair." The nurse ignored him and wheeled the chair over to him, motioning for him to sit down. "No way. I have a few broken ribs, I'm not crippled."

"Sorry hun, it's hospital policy." The nurse answered, not really looking like she was interested in arguing with a teenager at this point in her shift. Derek looked to his dad for help, but George was still on the phone and just motioned for him to sit down. He sighed and sat down in the chair, but tried to look as uncomfortable as possible, as if in protest. Which wasn't all that hard, since every time he changed position it sent another shock of pain through him.

So the nurse wheeled him down the hall, followed by George, still on the cell phone. It had to be the longest hallway Derek had ever seen in his life. It seemed like every person they passed stared at him, wondering "What's wrong with that kid? Why's he in a wheelchair?"

They finally reached the exit, and passed into the cool air outside. Derek wondered what had happened to his leather jacket. He had had it on when they were in the car, he knew that, but he hadn't seen it in the hospital. He thought of asking his father, but he didn't really want to know. He had visions of those hospital dramas where they cut the victim's clothes off of them in the E.R. He loved that jacket, it was the most expensive item of clothing he owned, and he didn't want to think about replacing it.

Nora wasn't there yet, so George helped Derek onto a bench outside the hospital and the nurse took the wheelchair back inside, wishing them goodnight. George and Derek sat there in silence for awhile, each one lost in his thoughts. When George finally spoke, Derek had forgotten he was even there.

"You know I don't think any of this was your fault. I'm sorry if I made it sound that way."

Derek watched Nora's van pull into the parking lot. "I know, Dad. I know."

Casey awoke the next morning, feeling like she had, for lack of a better term, been hit by a truck. She felt stiff and achy all over her body. She guessed this was probably whiplash from the accident. She had slept really well last night. The only time she woke up was when she heard her mother and George bring back Derek around 2 a.m. She had peered through the crack in her door, and watched as they carefully helped him into his room, with their arms around him for support. And again she had felt a pang of guilt as she watched him struggle through the pain. She laid awake for a bit after that, thinking about things, before she fell asleep again.

She woke up at eleven, which was later than she usually slept in, even on weekends. She was missing school again today. She still needed her rest, she knew that, but she hated the thought of all the work she would have to make up next week. But it was Friday, so she still had the whole weekend to relax before she had to think about school.

She tied back her hair and put on a hoodie before heading downstairs. When she reached the kitchen, she was greeted by the smell of pancakes.

"Morning, Mom"

Nora turned from the skillet and rushed over to give her daughter a hug, kissing her on the forehead. "How are you feeling, honey?" she asked, holding her at arm's length and scanning her body as if looking for any new injuries.

"I feel alright. Kind of achy, though."

"Well, that's to be expected. But I bet some pancakes will help!" Nora bustled around, preparing a gourmet breakfast for Casey, as if that would instantly cure her.

She sat with Casey as she ate her breakfast, and they talked about everything and nothing. Neither really wanted to discuss the events of the day before, but it was a hard topic to avoid. Especially when, as Casey glanced across the room, she saw Derek's leather jacket draped over a chair with some of their other stuff from the hospital. But the jacket was covered with dark stains.

"What happened to Derek's jacket?" Casey asked, knowing how upset Derek would be when he found out about this.

Nora hesitated for a moment. "He got blood on it."

Casey knew that wasn't good. Blood almost never came out of clothing. The jacket was as good as gone. But wait a second. "Derek didn't have any cuts that would have bled that much."

Nora hesitated again, this time looking like she didn't want to answer at all. She mumbled something quietly, but Casey couldn't hear her. She asked her to repeat it, and when she did, Nora looked up at her and said slowly, "It isn't his blood. It's yours."

Casey's stomach dropped again. Derek must have gotten her blood on his jacket when he had 'rescued' her. Oddly enough, that made it seem more real. As much as it had been discussed, and argued about, she still didn't really believe that the Derek she knew would put himself in danger to save her. But this was proof. All she could think of to say was, "Oh."

Nora looked at her for a second before she got up and went back to the skillet, preparing another plate of pancakes.

"Are you eating another breakfast?" Casey asked confusedly.

Nora finished her preparations before walking over to the table, placing the new plate next to Casey, and taking Casey's empty plate. "I'd like you to bring this plate up to Derek."

"Mom-" Casey started to protest, but Nora wouldn't let her finish.

"I know you don't want to talk to Derek right now, but you both had a very stressful day yesterday, and you took it out on each other. You know he didn't mean the things he said, it was just the pain and exhaustion talking. But we both know that the only way to ameliorate the situation is for you to go talk to him." She saw Casey's mouth open to protest again, but she cut her off. "I didn't say you had to apologize, just let him know that you didn't take his words to heart. Plus, he needs to wake up now or he won't be able to sleep tonight."

Casey looked for any sympathy in her mother's face, but saw there was no getting out of this situation. So she sighed, grabbed the plate, and headed for the stairs. She tried to form a plan of action to approach Derek. After all, bringing him food was like a peace offering, wasn't it? But waking him up before he's ready? Not so much. Why would her mother think this would possibly be a good idea?

She reached Derek's door and stood outside it for a minute, debating whether or not she could just slide each pancake individually under the door and then just run away. But she took a deep breath and turned the knob.

She stepped into the room quietly, and saw that Derek was none the wiser. He was still dead to the world, asleep in his bed, wrapped up in his flannel comforter. He was sleeping on his back, with several pillows propped up under his head. He didn't usually sleep this way, but it was probably because of his injuries. His brown hair was tousled, sticking out at all angles. His long lashes brushed his freckled cheeks, his pink lips open slightly, emitting soft breaths of sleep. His face was speckled with the same tiny cuts that she had on her own face, most likely from the broken windshield. He was sleeping without a shirt, which was not unusual for him. What was different now were the nasty bruises peeking out from the top of the comforter. His left hand rested lightly on his flannel-covered stomach, as if protecting his injuries from any potential obstacles he might encounter in his sleep.

She watched him for a moment before clearing a spot on his bedside table and setting down the plate of pancakes. She didn't really know how to wake him; whether to call his name, or try to tap on his shoulder. She knew he was a sound sleeper, but hoped she wouldn't have to resort to desperate measures.

"Derek"

Her voice sounded too loud in the silence of the room, and she was surprised to hear it crack the tiniest bit as she said his name, but she chalked it up to having just recently woken up.

He obviously wasn't very deeply asleep, because at the sound of her voice, he scrunched up his face and drew in a long breath through his nose. He opened his eyes and looked blearily at her for a second, before closing them again.

"Casey." Her name escaped his lips with the swell of air he had taken in through his nose. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he said it. He opened his eyes as he nestled his entwined fingers behind his head.

She wasn't sure if he was waiting for her to say something, but she took the opportunity anyway. "I brought you breakfast. Mom made pancakes." She gestured to the plate on his bedside table, and his eyes followed her motions. He moved to sit up, but she saw his face crumble into a wince as he did so. She instinctively moved forward to help him, but he held out a hand to stop her. She watched as he struggled through the pain, sucking air between his teeth in a hiss.

He managed to sit almost upright, and threw her a threatening look, ready to snap at her for laughing at his struggle to do such a simple thing. But when he caught her eye, he saw her gaze shift to his from where it had been focused on his chest. He had forgotten until then about the bruises, and moved to pull the comforter up over his chest. But before he could do so, her hand lightly touched his wrist, stopping his actions.

"Show me."

Her eyes were filled with something between desperation and apology, fear and sympathy. He considered that look for a moment, before slowly pulling the covers down to his waist.

She could feel his eyes on her as she took in the sight before her. There was a gruesome rainbow of bruising covering his chest and stomach, like on her legs, but worse. It looked much more painful. She stepped closer and knelt down slowly next to the bed for a closer look. Her instincts told her she should do something; help him like he had helped her, even if it was too late. But what could she do?

She slowly reached out her hand and lightly touched her cool fingers to his skin, still warm from sleep. His chest rose and fell with his breathing as her fingers trailed slowly over the bruises on his chest and in the dip between his chest and stomach. As her fingers began to graze over his ribcage, he suddenly grabbed her wrist to stop her. Their eyes met, both slightly panicked. She stood up quickly and walked towards the door.

"You should eat. I have to go."

There were no apologies, but it was enough.