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Ralph thought it was funny. Sam just gave him sad, knowing smiles; he thought it was about time that Derek got like that over someone, but there was still sympathy. Edwin was surprised it had lasted as long as it had -- nearly a year at this point -- and told Derek he was losing his edge. Lizzie patted him on his shoulder whenever she saw him, promising that she'd come back. Nora always sounded weepy whenever she left him a voicemail as if hearing it every time put her on the verge of tears. His dad, too, come to think of it, also sounded pretty weepy in his messages. Marti, flippant as always, told him when she did call (because she would call. Eventually. Marti insisted. "You two are inevitable. Casey needs some time to get her shit together, and, frankly, so do you. She was always so put together in high school, she's owed a break and a true crisis, but she'll call." It was like a mantra between them; it was almost as important to Marti as it was to him) it would be enough to convince her if there was any residual doubt.
None of it really mattered to Derek, their thoughts and opinions -- though he appreciated Marti. To those who thought they knew Derek, that wouldn't come as a surprise. Those people thought him to be the type who gave absolutely zero (0) fucks about the opinions of those around him. To those who actually did know him, it did come as a surprise. Derek may not care what the stranger behind a counter might think of him, but he cared about his family and close friends' opinions. He cared a great deal about those thoughts...
... except when it came to this.
Notoriously bad at answering his phone, Derek's voicemail has gone through frequent and regular changes --
"Hi, you've reached Derek. I'm at the ice rink. If it's about that newspaper ad, they put the wrong number. Change the eight to a three, and you're on the right track. If this is about the other ad, the one for the couch, it's been sold. You're S-O-L."
"Hi, you've reached Derek; I'm out camping until Sunday. I'll call you when I'm back. Maybe. Depends on who is leaving the message."
"It's Derek's voicemail. I've lost my phone charger, so I guess I'll try and call you back. If it's important and I don't see you before I find my charger."
-- but in the last year or so, regardless of his message, one thing has been entirely consistent:
"This is Derek. I'm busy this weekend, so don't expect me to answer. Leave a message if you really need me to call you back. If it can wait, call me Monday--"
"And P.S., if this is Casey, I still love you."
"You've reached Derek. I've got a deadline at work -- yeah, I know, be surprised that I'm responsible. It's fucking hilarious. Whatever. Leave a message, I'll get back to you--"
"And P.S., if this is Casey, I still love you."
"I'm visiting the family, so I probably won't answer. You know the drill, or I'm assuming you do--"
"And P.S., if this is Casey, I still love you."
A few years ago, Derek might have scoffed at anyone who told him that's what he would be doing. Not the part about loving Casey; that he came to terms with long ago. Before he had Casey and lost her. No, the part about consistently leaving a message for her, hoping that she would hear it and would come back.
Casey had left with no way for him to contact her. Her e-mail address had been deactivated. She changed her phone number. Derek wasn't even entirely sure where Casey had left to. Just like that, she was gone; she said she needed time to think. He guessed that she had gone to New York. Derek had heard the longing in her voice, sometimes, when Casey talked about the opportunity she had turned down. He could occasionally hear a note of regret that she hadn't given dancing a try. Of course, Derek had no way of knowing. The letter hadn't said much, lacking any clue as to where she might have run to. Probably because if she had, Casey knew he would have followed.
It wasn't necessarily a huge shock, but her leaving had been painful. The claims that Casey needed space, and more importantly, the promises to return felt empty. Hollow. Maybe she would never come back. Still, Derek hoped that she would take whatever time she needed and, ultimately, come to the same conclusion he had.
They belonged together.
It would be better if Casey simply came home, but he knew her better than that. The guilt would make her afraid. She had hurt him, too, so the guilt would be justified. No, Casey wouldn't just return one day. She would test the waters first. Hence, the voicemail message. Derek hoped she would hear it, one day, and come home , because, with his luck, he would miss her call.
Sitting at home, Derek rubbed at his eyes, punching in the code so he could set his new voicemail message. "This is Derek's voicemail. This week is going to be hectic, so I'll try and get back to you by the weekend." He paused, swallowing hard as he always does, willing his voice not to break. "And P.S., if this is Casey, I still love you." He clicked off, wondering just how many more times he can leave the last part, knowing he's nowhere near giving up. Not yet.
Friday night, Casey sat in her little studio apartment, eyeing her phone with a cup of tea beside her. She had spent all of last week working up to this moment, promising to herself that she would call. She thought of Derek daily, but this time she meant to actually call.
It had been too long.
However, now that a decision had been made to woman up and call already, she knew she would follow through. That was the kind of person she was; once Casey had come to a decision, she would stick to it. Still, calling filled her with more trepidation than she would have liked.
It was possible that he wouldn't answer. Derek had never been really good at answering the phone, to begin with, and he was always so busy. Half the time, he forgot to even keep his phone on his person.
Derek did love to surprise her, though. It would be just like him to answer the phone for once. Would he be relieved that she had called? Angry? Indifferent
She wasn't sure what she would prefer: for Derek to answer or get his voicemail.
Whatever she was hoping for, Casey wasn't prepared for what she heard. He hadn't answered, and she had gotten his voicemail. It was no real surprise, but the end of it definitely threw her for a loop. The phone slipped through her fingers, rattling on the counter -- suddenly she was glad for the phone case Derek had insisted she needed. It was so unlike him, and it made her realize she hadn't expected him to hold on for so long.
She was a right ass.
Casey had hoped, of course she had, that he would still feel something for her, but it had felt like a wishful kind of hope. She never thought that she would seriously have an opportunity to mend what she broke. She thought, at most, she needed to try, and that would be that.
She should have said something, left a message, but she didn't. It suddenly didn't feel like something that she should leave in a voicemail, and, honestly, his message had taken her by surprise.
Phone now on the counter, tea forgotten, Casey burst into tears.
It had never been Casey's intention to leave. At least, it had never consciously been her intention. For the most part, she and Derek had been happy together. But ever since her parents started having problems, long before the Venturis entered their lives, Casey had worked hard to embody perfection. Before then, good grades and organization had been near and dear to her. However, it was as the fighting and late nights happened more frequently that good grades and organization became a requirement. In hindsight, she supposed that if she never got in trouble, never messed up her classes. She always kept the house orderly, she could keep their family together. Casey had strived to make sure she was never adding to their troubles. It was a lot of pressure for a young girl to put on herself, she knew that now, but then those were the things she could control. So, she had helped keep the house in order -- immaculate, even -- and her grades never strayed to less than perfect (and so began the dreaded grade grubbing). Everything in her life had revolved around being perfect and being organized.
After the divorce, Casey had felt responsible for filling the hole left by their father. Her mother was now, officially, acting as a single parent, and she needed help. Blending with the Venturis had eased some of the self-imposed pressure. Derek , in particular, had helped her remember how to relax. The anxiety and her need to be at the top, to be perfect, never really left. Not completely. It was too much pressure for one person, or so Paul had insisted in one of their many sessions. As they neared the end of her last year of high school, he had told her flat out that if she kept it up, Casey was going to implode or die of a heart attack by the age of twenty-five.
She had thought he was exaggerating.
So, no, she hadn't intended to leave. In their final year of university, Casey and Derek had already been tiptoeing ever closer to the precipice of something Big. She knew that she felt very non-step-sisterly feelings for Derek. He knew it, too. And she knew that he knew that she knew.
Casey also knew that Derek felt the same. This fact alone was a miracle. Despite her reading average, Casey sometimes struggled with reading between the lines in the spoken word. Sometimes, though, that's how it was with them: Little half-sentences or full phrases with a meaning that was something else. Maybe she'd never really been bad at it; probably, more likely , she had wanted ignorance on what was transpiring between them. Either way, the fact that Casey was up to speed with her true feelings and being aware of what Derek was thinking and feeling was, in all honesty, a miracle.
It was only a matter of time before they finally talked about it. The whole thing was becoming quite impossible to ignore. It was there, always. In every double meaning in their conversations. In every lingered touch, every meeting of the eyes. The air was thick with the tension anytime they were in a room together. Frankly, the verbal gymnastics required to not address the elephant in the room was getting exhausting. So, it really was a miracle that they lasted as long as they had. Then came Christmas Eve. Suddenly with one loaded argument and an early returning family, the secret was out. By the time Casey and Derek had learned that George and Nora were back early with the kids, it was too late and try as they might, they couldn't really explain away some of the things that had been said.
Their parents hadn't exactly been thrilled, but they hadn't been surprised, either. It was a point in their favor that her mom and George (eventually) had seen it coming. They earned another tally in their favor for waiting as long as they had.
Ground rules were laid out along with several serious conversations together and with their respective parents. But they all managed to move on, leaving Casey and Derek to figure out what came next.
She had been foolish to think that the rest of the transition would be so smooth.
Emily had called her disgusting. The Derek Fan Club at Queen's sneered when she walked by, and some of the less-than-classy women muttered things under their breath. Incest was batted around by some. Thankfully not everyone had a problem with their relationship. They had support from their family, and some of their friends, but it was still a lot: Casey had failed at perfect. Eventually, the implosion that Paul had predicted came. She had reached her breaking point.
When they were in high school, Derek had needed to grow up. Casey had been the one, more or less, who had her shit together. Over their time at Uni, he'd done just that. Derek had grown. While not a sought-after topic, feelings were no longer a taboo, and he was more willing to let his kindness be known rather than hiding behind a shield of faux-indifference. Over the four years, Derek had started growing from a teen to a man.
Most days, Casey still felt like a girl.
Her decision to leave had been influenced by many things, but that had been the deciding factor. She wasn't prepared to deal with the hate, the ridicule, and the fact that she was no longer perfect Casey. She needed to grow up, and now looking back, the way that she had left was a prime example of just how badly she needed some growth. It had been her turn to grow up. Looking back on it, she was filled with guilt, shame, and regret, each warring for dominance.
Knowing that Derek would be unlikely to answer over the next few days, she waited three days until Friday afternoon. Once again, she was nervous about calling. Even with his voicemail being what it was, he could be on a date. Or any number of things could have changed in the last few days. Sweaty and trembling hands clutched at her phone as she counted the rings.
It kept going, and her heart sank. He wasn't going to answer.
This time disappointment (and a little bit of worry) filled her. Casey had prepped herself for talking to Derek this time. Being Casey, though, she'd also prepared for the voicemail, but it didn't stop the bitter, creeping disappointment. Bracing herself, she listened to the voicemail message.
"This is Derek's voicemail; if you were looking for someone else, you're in the wrong place. If it's Friday, I'm with Sam and ralph doing dumb shit. If it's Saturday, I'm playing a pick-up game of ice hockey. I will probably be too tired to call you back until I'm conscious later Sunday afternoon." There's a pause. "And P.S., if this is Casey, I still love you."
Casey left her number, hit end, and resigned herself to sitting by the phone on Sunday.
Derek managed to drag himself out of bed late Sunday morning. His routine included a hot shower, coffee, going out to breakfast. It wasn't until late Sunday afternoon that he was bothered to check his phone. He regretted not doing it sooner.
There were a handful of texts, some missed calls, and two voicemails. Derek addressed these latter messages first, letting them play on the speaker while he fixed himself a sandwich.
The first message played, and Marti's voice filled the room. "Hey, asshole, answer your phone sometime, yeah? Or call me back first thing when you listen to this. God, isn't your generation supposed to be phone-obsessed? Whatever. Call me back. Have fun. Love you, bye."
He smiled into the fridge, grabbing his meat, cheese, lettuce, and the condiments as the next message played. It took everything Derek had not to let it all drop when her voice came from the device. After only a moment of hesitation, he shoved everything onto the counter, scrambling for his phone. He managed to send a quick text to Marti -- despite the trembling of his fingers -- letting her know that he would have to call her later. Then, Derek dialed the number Casey had left.
It rang several times, and he dropped his elbows onto the counter, leaning over. Derek was suddenly, incredibly nauseous. She wasn't going to answer. Had he missed his window? "You've reached Casey." Derek straightened up, lunging toward and then away from the counter, nervous energy looking for any outlet. "If this is Derek returning my call, I want you to know that I should have listened to my heart a little more. Maybe I would have realized sooner where I belong. It's still yours -- my heart, that is, -- if you want it. I think it was always yours, long before I ever realized it, but I know it will always belong to you. I never should have left, and I hope you can forgive me." There was a pause, and Derek waited with bated breath and a dry mouth for the sound of the beep. He had no clue what he was even going to say to that. "Derek," Casey's voice continued. "This isn't a voicemail; it's me, Casey. And I still love you."
Silence.
Frowning, Casey pulled the phone away from her ear to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. Derek’s name still showed on the screen with decent service. Nervous, she cleared her throat.
The sound seemed to prompt him into speaking. “Casey?”
“Yes.”
He let out a breath, the woosh of air coming out loud on her end of the phone. “You--hi.”
Laughing--a short, nervous sound--Casey closed her eyes. There was so many ways this call could go, and it was fascinating what hearing his voice could do to her. For her. “Hi.”
“You… so--I’m not sure where to start, honestly. You heard my voicemail?”
“Yeah.” Casey leaned on the back of her couch, unsure where to sit for this call. Nothing felt right for this conversation. “Assuming that you meant--”
“I did.”
“Good.”
The line went silent again. Once more, Casey waited for him to speak.
“You?”
She blinked. “Me?”
Derek snorted. “Did you mean it?”
“Of course. Yes, I meant it.”
“That’s--” another loud breath. “Good. To hear, I mean. It’s a good… start.”
Frowning, Casey wandered into the kitchen until she found her bottle opener and a bottle of wine. She made quick work of the cork, popping it open and pouring a glass. Just because she was ready for this--ready to move past this--didn’t mean any part of it was going to be easy. “I feel like there’s a ‘but’.”
“ But .” He paused, apparently searching for the right words. She wondered when, in the last year, he had learned to do that, thinking before speaking. “You can’t just--”
She cut him off quick, afraid that if she didn’t say it now, she wouldn’t get a chance. “No, I know. I can’t just say that I love you and expect to be able to come right back into your life expecting everything to be forgiven and forgotten. I know that.” Admitting fault had never been a strong suit of hers. She could only hope that he would recognize this was her, being honest. Sincere. “I know, if you were willing to give me a chance, it would mean earning your trust back, maybe starting over, and that’s all if you want to. I’m hoping you do.”
“That’s it--there’s the but.”
“I’m willing to do that, Derek. Make it up to you, repair the damage. Derek, I’m sorry. I never should have--maybe leaving was the right thing, I’ll never know, but it shouldn’t have happened like that, if at all.”
Once more silence fell over the line. She could only hope that he was taking time to consider her words, or maybe his next ones, and Casey took several nervous sips of wine. His voicemail had given her hope, but him still loving her didn’t necessarily mean he was going to give her a chance.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity he asked, “Are you back in town?”
She couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “I will be in two weeks.”
“We can…” he seemed to hesitate for a moment, making a small sound she couldn’t interpret before continuing, “we can get coffee, and see what happens from there?”
It was more than she deserved, and she told him as much. It made him laugh. There was a lightness in his tone as he agreed that it might be the case. Teasing she knew how to deal with.
Naturally their entire family knew that Casey was coming home. At some point there must have been a family meeting because Marti called him one evening as he was getting ready to head over for dinner. She sounded cautious. “I’ve been nominated--”
“Considering your tone, either you pulled the short straw, or the family thought you were the best person to deal with whatever it is I need to know, which means everyone is worried about how I’ll react meaning this is most likely about Casey coming home.”
“How’d you know?”
He snorted. “How did I know that she was coming back or how did I know that’s what you were calling about?”
“Let’s start with the latter and work our way backward.”
He sighed, pausing in trying to fix his hair. “I already knew she was coming back, and the entire family has been acting dodgy with me all week, so I figured everyone else also knew and didn’t know how to bring it up.” He ran his fingers through his hair once more. Deciding that he was ready, he grabbed his jacket, keys, and wallet and headed out the door. “I knew Casey was coming back because she told me when we spoke a few days ago.”
Derek shouldn’t feel satisfaction at knowing before the rest of their family, but he did.
When Marti finished choking on her juice, she finally asked, “You and Casey spoke?”
“She called me.”
And because it was Marti, Derek filled her in on the whole conversation. Thankfully, she kept her smug thoughts to herself, and focused on how he was feeling about it.
The following weeks dragged. Derek felt both nervous and excited about seeing Casey again. He remained guarded in their interactions, but they did in fact interact. The first week was strictly through text. The next, they shared a few phone calls in between the texting.
It felt… strange not to talk when they were planning to meet up soon, but it was equally strange texting in this weird state of limbo stuck between “I love you” and “we’re starting fresh”. It was funny, too, how despite her being the source of his pain, Casey had a way of healing some of it.
The day she was set to move into her new place, Derek had to resist the urge to drive over and see her. It had been too long and knowing that she’s so close had his fingers twitching toward the keys. They were supposed to be taking things slow; showing up over eager to see her would likely prevent them from working out some of their issues. Derke would have to reign himself in as much as he would have to hold her at a distance. At least for now.
He managed to resist, but just barely.
It didn’t help that Casey seemed just as eager to meet up with him. Rather than taking a few days to settle into her new place, she insisted they could meet the day after she moved in.
They met at a place not far from his apartment. Nervous, it looked like he’d already downed a few cups before she had even arrived the way his leg would not stop bouncing. What if she didn’t show? By agreeing to meet, Derek had given Casey the power to crush his heart a second time. Though he knew he would survive a second crushing, it would be a hard recovery and he’d be done--
She showed up as he was in the midst of contemplating how thoroughly he’d be able to wipe his hands of her considering their circumstances. He stood so quickly that he almost upturned his chair. Thankfully, Casey missed it, and he rushed over to meet her. An awkward exchange ensued as they tried to figure out the best way to greet until he finally pulled her into a hug. Again, he should have been taking things slow, but god if he didn’t need to just fucking hug her already.
Other than exchanging pleasantries, their time in the coffee line and ordering passed quickly and uneventful. Soon enough Casey sat across from Derek, each of them with a cup of coffee. He kept his hand resting on the table next to the cup, eyeing Casey. She, on the other hand, kept both of hers wrapped around the Styrofoam.
“I missed you,” she admitted eventually. “I probably should have called a lot sooner. Because I did, you know. Miss you, that is.” A beat. “I’m sorry.”
“You said that already,” he reminded.
Turning a little pink, Casey nodded. “Right. Yeah.”
Taking a moment to sip at his coffee, Derek appraised her. She looked good. “Maybe we can move past the apologies and whatever for today and just… catch up?”
“Catch up?”
Derek nodded, the corners of his lip quirking upward. “Yeah, that thing two people do when they haven’t seen one another in a while? Tell me what you’ve been doing, and I’ll let you know what I’ve got going on.”
When she rolled her eyes, it was a lot like old times. “Okay.”
And so, they caught up.
At some point he knew they would have to really address her leaving and all the issues that went with that. There would be stuck to work through, but this was a start, and one Derek was comfortable with. After all, if they were going to work through those things, they had to start somewhere.
“Hi, you’ve reached Derek. If I’m not answering, it’s because I’m on my fucking honeymoon and I told you not to call unless there was an emergency, and in that case to call my wife. See you in two weeks.”