Chapter 2:

"Casey, are you alive in there? Casey, open the door now before I break in and-"

A sleepy figure donning pink pajamas and fluffy slippers shuffled to the door and opened it with a yawn. Before her stood a tall, thin man in a clean business suit. His face was pale with deep chocolate eyes that seemed almost black accompanied by thick eyebrows and a strong angular jaw. A thick set of brown hair was combed neatly into a part atop his head that projected such suaveness, it could have made James Bond jealous. He was by all means very masculine and quite attractive, but a dazzling smile completed the charm he held.

"No need to resort to drastic measures Ryan. I just over-slept."

"Again," Ryan smiled kindly, giving a sigh and a slight roll of his dark brown eyes, "Which is why I brought our morning coffee here, directly to your door," he gestured to the two full coffee mugs still steaming hot in his hand.

Nine years ago, anyone who knew Casey would have said it was physically impossible for Casey to be even a minute late. Nowaday it was merely a fact of life, a regular occurrence. Insomnia set in almost nightly, not allowing her to fall asleep until 3 or 4 in the morning. Luckily she had Ryan, her neighbor and friend to be her human alarm clock.

The day after she had moved into her apartment, Casey had heard a knock on her door. It had been Ryan, who had then formally introduced himself as Ryan Joshua Pratchett. Quirky and friendly enough, the two became fast friends. As Casey quickly found out, Ryan was extremely intelligent. He earned his masters degree in biochemistry and a PhD in Applied Mathematics by the time he was 26. They worked in the same district and made it a habit to enjoy some coffee early in the mornings before walking to work together. Often times they would spend their lunch break together, on a park bench in the plaza if the weather permitted or at their favorite little locale: Dillan's Diner. About once a week they would have dinner together or Ryan would show Casey the hot-spots around town. As smart as he was, Ryan also knew how to have a good time. He was able to make Casey forget all about the past and enjoy the present, even if it was only for a short while.

"Well, come on inside then from the cold, or lack there of."

"Someone's in a good mood this morning," sarcasm laced Ryan's voice. She stuck her tongue out at him and glared. He just laughed at her childish antics, following her back into the apartment from the dingy hall.

Casey was quite the sight to behold in the mornings, her hair sticking up in every direction, wrinkled pajamas and tired eyes.

"Make yourself at home," she yawned, "You know where everything is anyways."

"By everything you mean the sofa, fridge and coffee maker, don't you?"

"You know it. Help yourself. I need to get ready."

"As always."

Casey dragged her feet along the floor back into her bedroom, picking out work clothes from her closet. Her sleeping habits had forced her to become accustomed to getting ready in a timely manner. She had even made herself a list of outfit sets, pictures included, to be more efficient whenever insomnia took over her nights. The short mornings left no time to mix and match or to be too choosy. Casey would select an outfit from the list, put it on, brush her hair through and if time permitted apply some make-up. Today, just mascara would have to do.

From her bedroom she could hear Ryan rummaging around in the fridge. She rolled her eyes, stepping out into the main living space, now fully dressed.

"Ryan, how many times do I need to tell you, breakfast is unnecessary?"

"An infinite number. Casey, you need to eat more-"

"So you tell me every day," she threw him a disapproving glance, eyebrows raised. "You really know how to be a nuisance mister."

"You hurt me with your harsh words and yet I find myself still wanting to be your friend. Remind me again, why is that?" He asked playfully, shoving a piece of toast with jam into her one hand and her coffee into the other.

She just smiled, taking a bite of her toast, "Because you love me," and she whisked past Ryan out the door.

Two sets of feet hit the pavement in perfect unison with one another, weaving in out and out of the sea of city people who bustled by on their way to their respective jobs.

"So, I have to ask, what is it the keeps you up so late at night?" Ryan asked with interest over the din.

"Insomnia," Casey replied, feigning nonchalance but her shoulders tensed ever so slightly and her gaze shifted towards the ground. She didn't like where this route of questioning was headed.

Ryan didn't take notice of her discomfort and pursued his questions. "Have you tried taking anything for-"

Something in Casey snapped. "Look, just because you work at a pharmaceutical company doesn't mean you should peddle drugs to your friends!"

Truth be told, she had taken many types of sleeping pills, Ambien, Lunesta and their generics. None could suppress the thoughts whirling around in her mind. They just made her feel more depressed and hindered her from waking up in the morning.

"Whoa, touchy subject. Keeping questions to myself from now on."

"Sorry," she sighed, "I didn't mean to snap like that. It's just- I don't really like to talk about it."

"So there's an 'it', eh?"

"A 'him' too." Her hands covered her mouth. This was bad. She had said too much! She didn't want to talk about it.

"A 'him'! Should have known some guy swept you off your feet," Ryan tapped his nose knowingly, smiling at the nervous looking Casey. She still had her hands over her mouth. "So he's back in London then, eh? Long-distance relationship, or something?"

"Don't really know where he is actually." Again her hands flew up to her mouth. Why couldn't she keep her mouth shut? Now he would know. Know who exactly she was, her family. It had been all over the news- the incident, as Casey liked to call it. It wasn't exactly a situation that had been kept low key. "The incident" had made headlines of the daily news for weeks.

"Ehm…"

"I'm sorry, but I'd really prefer not to talk about this. And anyways, since when are you my psychologist?" she asked teasingly, trying to shift the focus away from the topic at hand.

"I am not a psychologist. That's a soft science and I'd prefer not to be associated with such unsubstantiated theories."

"Yeah, yeah Ryan. I know your whole shtick on psychologists, no need to be redundant."

She gave him a cheeky grin, as he pretended to be offended. Mission accomplished: the mood became lighthearted once more.

"Aren't we all snarky today, Case?"

"CASEY! Where is my jersey?" Derek stalked through the house looking for the girl, who he knew just had to have her helping of revenge before bedtime. She always took things too seriously. He had expected her to figure it out before she actually used the shampoo. It was merely for the entertainment value of her getting angry.

But this- this was going to far. His last big regional game was today- the one that would decide if his team would qualify to move on to the Championship Tournament, not to mention the fact that scouts would be watching too. His possibility of getting into a decent college seemed slim at best with his grades in a disarray, ergo a hockey scholarship was what he needed. He had to impress the scouts but he would be unable to do so without his lucky jersey. The jersey had lead him and his team to a winning streak of 5 games and had been unwashed since, as to ensure its pure, untainted luckiness. And now she had stolen it.

"CASEY! Where are you? When I find you, I swear I'm going to –"

"Going to do what exactly?" He found the girl sitting cross-legged atop the washing machine filled with laundry, one eyebrow raised and smug smile in place. "Dye my hair green? Oh wait, you already tried that today and failed!"

"Aren't we all snarky today?"

"Yes, we are," she crossed her arms across her chest.

"Look, I'm sorry about this morning but please just give me my jersey back," he pleaded in desperation. "You should know what it's like to be nervous-"

"So the Great Derek Venturi is finally fessing up. He gets nervous and needs a security blanket." Derek tried to interrupt as to dispute the fact that it was a security blanket, but the words died in his mouth before they could pass his lips. "Well too bad, Derek. For once, I win," and with that she leaned forward and pressed the START button on the washing machine. It whirred to life and a malicious, victorious smile lit up her face. Derek's eyes went wide with realization and fear.

"You- you didn't!" he stammered in disbelief, "You wouldn't!"

"Oh, but I did!"

"You can't just wash my lucky jersey like that."

"It stinks Derek. And anyways, it's not my fault it conveniently found its way into the laundry basket."

"Nora!" he hissed. The women had a bad tendency to clean up after his mess. "But if you wash it, all the luck will be washed out," he said as though it were the most logical thing in the world. His face was green, and full of disdain.

"Do you realize how pathetic you sound?" She gracefully jumped off the washer. The laundry within it was now sloshing around with great vigor. As soon as Casey left to go into the kitchen, he stopped the cycle, and ripped the door open (he waited until she wasn't looking as to best maintain his severely diminished dignity). Water flowed to the floor as he ripped out the sopping, soapy laundry. Piece by piece, he dropped each to the floor: Nora's jeans, Edwin's shirt, Casey's top, Casey's socks, Marti's dress, Casey's bra, George's jogging pants, Edwin's shorts, Casey's underwear (which, he noted in his frenzy, matched the bra), but no jersey. He peered into the machine and searched any blind spots with his hand. Nothing.

"Casey!" Derek shook his hand dry, sending water drops hurling to the. It had all been a silly little prank. Her form of cruel revenge: get him all riled up and then make him look like a fool! His face lost its green coloring and quickly took on an angry red.

Casey leaned casually against the doorframe, watching Derek's frantic search and realization with amusement. He turned to her, seething, but all she could do was emit an innocent "Oops. I guess I forgot to wash it." On her hand she dangled the jersey teasingly, with all its stench and grimy glory. He lurched forward. His hand pawed for it as though to grab it, much like a dog chasing its bone, but she had something else in mind.

Casey stopped his attempt at reaching his shirt by forceful pushing him against the other side of the doorframe with a step forward and a hand upon his chest. He tried to reassure himself she had only gained the physical advantage over him, because he was momentarily distracted but her hold on him was surprisingly strong. He didn't dare move, yet.

"Next time, I won't be as kind," she whispered menacingly into his ear. He gave a slight laugh. It wasn't the reaction Casey was looking for and her surprise gave him the upper-hand once more.

"Case," he whispered, equally low into her ear before pushing her back onto the other side of the frame. His lips grazed her cheek, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Her breath slightly hitched in fear. The tables had turned. He paused, his hot breath tickling her ear, as he leaned closer to impart his final message, "Don't try to act dangerous. It doesn't suit you."

And with that he snatched the jersey out of his shocked step-sister's hands.

Casey blinked as the memory swept over her.

"Casey, you okay?"

"Hmm. Oh, yeah. Thanks for asking," she shrugged off the question.

"You just kinda spaced out there for a second. Sometimes I really worry what goes on in that head of yours, Case," Ryan gave a kind smile to her. She returned the gesture for reassurance, both for his sake and her own. Perhaps, she thought, if she told herself she was okay often enough, the statement would eventually become reality. So far it wasn't working.

They reached the end of their route and parted ways. Casey was about to make her way through the revolving doors but something caught her eye: A mop of messy auburn hair and a lanky body clad in a leather jacket and jeans whipped. But just as soon as she had spotted the familiar figure, he vanished. She shook her head. It couldn't be him- he was as good as dead. She dismissed the idea immediately. Her mind was just playing tricks on her again. Four years of therapy hadn't quite resolved all her issues she supposed. With a deep breath, she passed through the doors and went to her office.

A/N: So this chapter may have seemed a bit dull but it was necessary for the establishment of Casey's character. She's changed obviously, become an insomniac for reasons other than just Derek, has a good friend Ryan who thinks he's might be in love with Casey. She's also has been in therapy, for what- you don't know yet and is seeing people who aren't really there. Yup, she's a little bit crazy, but things are going to get crazier for her next chapter.

Question: Do you guys like the flashbacks? More or less of them?

Until next chapter- read and review please!