A/N: Wow, I've been getting some amazing reviews on this story--thanks! As for this chapter, I'm submitting it without giving it my standard 24-hour sink-in period--I did an almost complete rewrite, and I like to let that sit for a little bit and look at it with fresh eyes before turning it over to you. SO, with that being said, glaring errors may be inside; read with caution.

Casey smoothed her dress underneath her, thankful that she had managed to find an empty seat away from the McDonald-Venturi family. It had been nearly a decade since she had seen or spoken to any of them. Over the years, she had received an occasional email or letter from her mother, Nora McDonald, but the more Casey ignored them, the more seldom they came.

She felt her mother's, her stepfather's, her siblings' and her stepsiblings' eyes on her, but she just looked down and fiddled with her handkerchief in her hands. Although Casey had received an email from Nora about Sam's wedding about eight months ago, she never replied to let her know that she was coming. At the time, she didn't even know if she could afford the trip; after a while, it didn't seem important enough to tell them that she would be in attendance.

They ruined the best thing I had in my life, Casey thought sulkily. Why should I justify or explain myself to them now?

Casey felt another pair of eyes on her, a pair of eyes that she knew well. They were chocolate brown with flecks of gold and green, and if she could bring herself to look into them, she might be able to see herself. She couldn't bring herself to do it though; she had already spent too many years trying to stamp out the memories of the two of them together. She still hadn't figured out exactly why they separated, and she often mulled over that one memory:

"Derek, what are you doing here?" Casey asked in surprise. She knew that he was uncomfortable in her residence; her hallmates threw themselves at him, hoping to get a date with Casey's hot stepbrother. As far as they knew, he was single, and it had become a competition to be the first to hook up with him. The contest had risen to frenzied heights with the pending end of the spring semester, and she knew that he would rather just spend his time anywhere but there.

"Come in," she said, pushing a box to the side, "but ignore the mess. I'm just trying to get everything ready to go home." She walked into the room, leaving the door open behind her.

"No, thanks, Casey." Derek stood in the doorway, watching her with guarded eyes.

Casey turned around and stared at him, mouth agape. "Um … OK … what's going on?" she asked cautiously.

"Nothing. It's just … I'm leaving, Casey. Thought you might want to know." Derek turned and stalked down the hall, hands clenched into tight fists.

"Wait—what? Where are you going?" Casey yelped, running out of the room and after him.

"Vancouver." His voice was clipped as he kept moving down the hallway.

"What the hell, Derek? Why are you leaving?" she demanded, panic starting to rise in her chest.

"I have to get away from here, Casey." He stopped, turned around, and stared at her. "Away from you."

Casey felt her chest constrict and her lungs fight for air. He had never spoken to her in that manner before, not even when they were brand-new stepsiblings and legitimately fought over everything. The intensity of his tone scared her, and she stammered, "Bu-but … why? What happened? What did I do?"

"Everything, Casey!" He spun around and continued his march down the hall. "Everything. And nothing. But I can't stay here anymore. I'm leaving. We both know we're both better off like that anyway."

And just like that, he was gone. She had tried to run after him, tried to hold him, but he just shook her off, climbed in the car, and drove off without another word.

He didn't come back to Queen's in the fall. She looked for him—in the classrooms, at the hockey rink, in the sorority houses, but he was nowhere to be found. After four and a half years of constantly being in Derek's presence, Casey was alone.

Pachelbel's Canon in D major drifted through the church, and the congregation stood. Casey rose with them, distractedly observing how beautiful the bride was. She took graceful, confident steps down the aisle on her father's arm, and as she passed, the attendees repositioned their bodies towards the front of the church. Finally, she arrived at the altar, was handed to Sam, and the wedding party faced the pastor.

Knowing that she wouldn't be caught, Casey finally let herself look at Derek. His beautiful, floppy hair had grown longer, and he wore it neatly gelled for the wedding. He was in a coat and tails, the only member of the party not in the crisp, red dress uniform of the Canadian Armed Forces.

I wonder where Ralph is, Casey thought idly, mentally cataloguing every detail about her former paramour.

Casey struggled to follow the ceremony, standing and sitting at the appropriate moments, but she was entirely absorbed in her own thoughts. Being this close to Derek again, to all these people from her past, had opened her Pandora's box of memories, and she felt lightheaded from the rush. She strived to pay attention, but seemingly seconds later, the couple was kissing, people were clapping, and the congregation stood to watch Samuel and Emma Richards recess from the church to the happy, energetic sounds of Ode to Joy.

Sam and Emma, arms linked, marched happily down the center aisle. Derek and the maid of honor, arm-in-arm, followed.

Casey stared at the pair, fixing her gaze past the wedded couple. Derek's head was inclined towards the maid of honor's, and she giggled at something that he said. That bitch. Derek looked up and glanced around the groom's side. Oh, please see me. His eyebrows furrowed as Casey saw him catch his father's eye. Wait, maybe not. Do I want to go there again? He looked away with a look of mild disgust and whispered something to the maid of honor. Is he explaining how jacked up our family is? He looked up. Are they together, or is this just a wedding thing? He looked at Casey. I know nothing about him anymore. His eyes locked hers. Oh, shit.

Casey couldn't breathe. His eyes, those gorgeous, soulful eyes, looked the same as they had ten years ago—and they held the same pain that she saw the day he drove away. The fire they once held was dulled, but it was akin to looking at a wonderful room through a dirty window: despite the film of filth, the glorious splendor was still there.

In that brief glance, she saw everything that she remembered and had always known. She saw the family that they once thought they might have. She saw—no, felt—his eternal, selfless love.

She looked away, breaking their stare. That's not what happened, she thought fiercely, and you can't make it happen now. He left. We ended. That's it. The end.

Derek and his companion had finally made their way to the back of the church; Casey and Derek were standing side-by-side for the first time in ten years. She looked down, feeling his eyes blaze into her scalp, but she was unable to meet his stare. She couldn't take that blast of emotion; she was no longer strong enough for him.

And then he breathed her name. "Casey."

A/N: Would you laugh if I told you I almost submitted this with the next two (unedited) chapters attached? Oops ... way to spoil things ...