Back To You ~ (Cazzie Fanfic)

Survival Means Keeping a Forward Momentum

Rain is beating heavily on the window. Izzie has been lying awake in bed for an hour now, staring at the window and waiting to see if the rain will lighten up so she doesn't get soaked on her way home. Staying here is certainly not an option. She turns her head to look at the woman snoring lightly beside her. Hannah? Anna? She honestly can't remember. She doesn't think Hannah/Anna would mind. There hadn't been much conversation. Just some sweaty dancing at Izzie's favorite lesbian bar, with Hannah/Anna grinding up against her, and a few sentences shouted over cheap beers and loud music. Izzie had glanced at the clock and then said, bluntly,

"Hey, do you want to get out of here?" Hannah/Anna was all too happy to leave with her and even happened to live within walking distance. Not a bad Saturday night. And if she leaves in the next 15 minutes she'll still be home in time to chug a few glasses of water and then get a half decent night of sleep before her morning run. She had also promised to help Gabby with college applications and there's laundry and prepping for Monday's exam. But it's no problem, she can easily handle all that. The only problem is that it's still raining cats and dogs and doesn't look to be letting up any time soon.

Izzie slowly rolls off of the bed with practiced care, not making a sound. She gathers her clothes and heads to the bathroom. After peeing, dressing and splashing some water on her face it's still raining so she sits on the closed toilet seat and waits. Maybe it's the sound of the rain or the silence of the late hour or the post-sex drowsiness... but she finds her hand reaching for her phone. She tells herself that she can have five minutes. Just this once. She's waiting anyway, with nothing to do. She's been so good. Hasn't looked in months. She's been working hard, executing her plan and achieving her goals. She's even been "moving on"... sort of. If a long series of one night stands counts as "moving on." She tells herself that she can allow herself this. And no one has to know.

As usual she starts by tapping the Instagram app and then the search bar. Then she types in a name: Casey Gardner. A long list of Casey Gardners pop up but she can already see none of them are the one she's looking for.

"Still a social media ghost then," she thinks.

Then she tries Elsa's account, but there's nothing new there. Nothing recent. She navigates to the Internet app and searches there. She finds Casey's recent meets and times. Smiles at how fast she is. How well she's doing at UCLA. There are no new photos. Just her old profile photo on the track portion of the athletics website, and a group photo from last year of the entire team. Izzie stares for a while.

Then, finally, she opens up her own photo app. She finds the album she's looking for and taps on it with a sigh. The first photo is the oldest. Her and Casey, round faced and smiling with total abandon in the blanket fort Casey had made her so long ago. They look so young. And so in love. In love before they even knew they were in love.

Her eyes mist over so she keeps scrolling. She finds a photo from one of their prom nights. They are beautiful and happy and smiling at each other on Casey's front porch. Casey is looking at her like she's the only thing in the world that matters. Elsa had snapped it when Izzie came to pick Casey up. She still remembers how Casey's mouth had dropped open when she saw Izzie standing at the door. Izzie chuckles, remembering how surprised Casey had been that she'd worn pants. She casually wipes a tear from her cheek as if she's brushing a hair away... scrolls some more...

Then she lands on a selfie Casey had sent her once. Izzie was supposed to have deleted it, but she never did. She bites her lip. She doesn't let herself look at it very often because she feels so guilty for having kept it. But she can't bring herself to delete it. She would never share it with anyone... that's why it's tucked away in a photo album labeled "slurpees" instead of in her regular photo library. In the photo Casey is lying on a bed. The lighting is low. Casey's white t-shirt is hiked up, revealing the underside of both breasts. Her arm reaches down across her toned stomach and her hand disappears into her underwear and unzipped jeans, which are low on her hips. The photo is cropped at her thighs and just above her mouth. Her full lips are relaxed and ever so slightly open. Izzie swallows.

A crack of thunder jolts her out of her trance. She blinks and takes a deep breath. The rain is still torrential but she can't stay here reminiscing any more. That's a road that she knows all too well leads nowhere. If there's one thing her life has taught her it's that there is no use crying over spilt milk. Survival means keeping a forward momentum. And Izzie is nothing if not a survivor. She throws her purse and her phone into a plastic trash bag, to protect them from the rain, and slips out into the storm.