and we can breathe again .

[derek]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-image: url(http://i583.photobucket.com/albums/ss279/legendskseeker/oceanbreezebg-1.png); padding-bottom: 20px;] THE WORST IS OVER Once the boat docked in the harbor, Rich, Rachel, and Derek all hopped off onto the dock with unsteady legs. Being on a boat for the majority of the day completely toyed with homeostasis, but they weren't unstable for long. Derek helped Rachel out of the boat despite Richard being her boyfriend. The man didn't have a chivalrous bone in his body. Derek wasn't much better, but he had enough common sense about him to know that the tipsy gal would go for a swim if someone didn't stabilize her step out of the motorboat. "Thank you, darling," she slurred, kissing his cheek. Derek smirked at her, patting Rachel on the back as he did so. "You're welcome," he replied. "So, hey. We were going to go to the bar downtown for a little bit. You down?" Richard asked. He was completely oblivious to everything around him. Once booze called his name, Richard was just about as helpful as a feather in a sword fight. He was rich, however. Somehow that made up for his constant acts of idiocy. "Nah, I should probably be getting home, man," Derek said, glancing towards the waves. The sunlight reflected off the water into his eyes. He turned to Rachel who was peering at him in a drunken stupor. He glanced away from her awkwardly, turning his attention to Richard instead. He wasn't staring at him--thank God! "Yeah, okay," he replied gruffly. That was obviously not the answer he wished to hear coming from his old buddy. "Sorry, dude." He began his trek towards his bike without another thought. He could hear Rachel's voice depleting in the background, asking Richard where Derek was off to. Her interest in him had to come off as more than "just friends," but Richard didn't seem to be too concerned. She only came onto Derek when she was drunk. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Flings occupied most of his "personal life." He hadn't had a relationship in a long time. Nothing lasted. Ever since his pops was sent back to Germany, Derek had lost the ability to care for someone, it seemed. He kept to himself unless jokers like Richard begged him to make a debut somewhere. He showed up for work most of the time, and his face was seen around stores only when his pantry was down to the last box of Wheaties. People turned their heads as he passed. He'd been in his fair share of movies, but the paparazzi seemed to be busy hounding other celebrities at the moment. There wasn't a dark suit or flashing light in sight. That's exactly how Derek liked to spend his days: unnoticed. His bike was in the northern parking lot of Santa Monica beach. He'd parked it on the sidewalk despite tickets he'd been issued for doing so before. He was pleased to find the dash of his bike empty. A cop hadn't caught him redhanded this time, and there weren't any cops around to catch him now. Better hurry up before one does, he thought with a smirk. Helmet strapped down to his head, Derek mounted the bike and revved the engine to life. He pulled out of the parking lot at the speed limit and turned into the traffic. He'd drank a couple beers on the boat, so driving home probably wasn't bright. Richard was far worse than he, so waiting around for him would be pointless. The bar they frequented was a place that had Derek marked. Something always went wrong whenever he spent his evenings there. He'd gotten into one too many bar fights, to say the least. The hum of the city forced Derek to obey the traffic lies to a "T." Passed the city limits was a different story. Derek made his home on the outskirts of Los Angeles in a nice beachside home. There were a satisfying amount of twists and turns for him to have a little fun on, and right before his home, there was a straightaway that tempted the devil within. That evening wasn't any different. He popped a wheelie when the turn broke and punched the clutch. At once, his bike flew forward. His back was acute to the ground. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. Pushing the speed limit in order to right himself once more, his foot slipped. The minute shift of weight forced the bike to sway. At approximately one hundred twelve miles per hour, the bike finally gave way and slid out from under Derek's body. He tumbled, sliding along the road with the bike whipping across the road. Derek came to a halt near the curve of the last stretch before reaching his home. The bike continued to slide until ramming into a guard rail. Rubble crowded the streets. The bike had narrowly missed a passing car that stopped near Derek's unconscious body to dial 911. Derek could hear her frantic voice in and out of consciousness. He'd been completely out when the paramedics arrived. His arms, legs, and torso were covered with road rash. A deep crack had disrupted the helmet, but his head seemed to be fine. "The helmet saved this guy's life," the doctor concluded.

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TEMPLATE BY KHRISTIAN OF CAUTION 2.0, LYRICS BY IRON & WINE[/center]