TITLE: Missed the Bus
AUTHOR: arbailey
WORD COUNT: 2,862
RATING: PG-13 for language (possible R later)
SUMMARY: Everybody in Neptune has secrets... But not from Veronica, who is knee deep in intrigue trying to fix everyone else's problems. Busy as she is, she almost doesn't have time to think about a certain Tall, Dark, and Juvenilely-Delinquent. Almost. Veronica is running to stand still, and it looks like she may have just Missed the Bus.
SPOILERS: All of season one. Makes an ungodly mess of the timeline for season two.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any rights to Veronica Mars, and this story is written as a tribute only. All borrowed dialogue remains the sole creative property of the talented writing staff.
"Missed the Bus": an American idiom meaning either
1. to have missed or lost some opportunity or
2. to have failed to understand something.
CHAPTER 1 - The Fight
"I kept thinking that if I just stuck by you, that you'd get past this-this phase and you'd be you again." This is all so tragically clichéd. She's practically wringing her hands, and she hates, HATES the tone she can hear in her voice. She sounds petulant and angry when all she really is, is scared. Terrified she's going to lose him to the maelstrom he's creating around himself.
"Are you breaking up with me?" The world around him has begun to waver like a dream sequence, and he's praying he's about to wake up. A film has fallen over his eyes, and he can't really see her clearly anymore. He's just getting the suggestion of movement, the impression of flight.
She pauses, swallowing her words compulsively. They catch in her throat. She means it - she wants to say it - she's almost positive she wants to say it... But if she says it in the middle of a fight, it'll just mean desperation anyway… "This can't continue! Not with you and your toadies cruising around at night and hatching plans, refusing to let everything get back to normal. Someone's gonna get killed, Logan."
It's like he's not registering anything she's saying, glaring wild eyed around the room.
"Someone already has, did you forget that already? And most of the people in this town think I did it. Those people you call "toadies" are my friends; they've got my back." Why can't she hear how desperate he is even though all the bravado? What he means is: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't leave. I'll do anything. But the actual words- those won't come. Apologies he's never been able to do, somehow. God if he could take it all back, if he could make this summer a bad dream… But that's impossible.
"It's not about protection, Logan. It's about pride! And, the thing that I can't stand is that…I'm pretty sure there's a part of you that's having fun with all of this."
Suddenly she understands the phrase "a piercing expression" all too well. She is in actual physical pain feeling his gaze cut into her.
"Fun? FUN? My mom is dead! My girlfriend is dead! My dad is a murderer! And the only person I still care about is dumping me. You think I'm having fun?" He spits the words at her, and she can't breathe.
She's been inhaling tiny breaths in quick succession trying to calm her panic. Her lungs feel as if they'll burst, but she knows if she exhales she'll begin sobbing uncontrollably.
This wasn't supposed to be an ultimatum. This wasn't supposed to be an end, but she's thrown by his words. My girlfriend is dead… She's never going to supplant that other blonde in his brain. And the more she reflects, the more she feels the fool for even trying, for believing in anything but expedience and loneliness bringing them together.
She slumps back against one arm of the couch as he throws himself up off the other. He's gesturing wildly, and she's suddenly just so tired. Her bones ache. His hand connects with edge of an unsuspecting lamp, and it crashes to the floor, glass splintering. The sound snaps them both back into the room.
"I'm done," he murmurs, the anger beginning to drain from him as he grabs his jacket and heads for the door.
She doesn't say anything more as he storms out, doesn't try to stop him. The door slams, rattling the blinds. She sits on the couch for a moment or two before standing up and grabbing the broom and dustpan from the closet. She's still cleaning up the shards when her father walks in from his evening stakeout.
"What happened here!?" Keith demands, "You breakin' up the joint?"
"Butterfingers," simpers Veronica trying to sound playful and only getting halfway there, waggling her fingers in the air.
Keith can tell she's out of it. "What's up" he asks, his voice suddenly serious and full of fatherly concern.
"Logan and I broke up," she sighs wearily.
"Ah kid, I'm so sorry," Keith wraps his arm around her for a quick squeeze of the shoulders, his chin resting on the top of her head.
She twists under him, quirks an eyebrow, and gives him a sardonic smile. "You devious old fraud. You're not sorry."
"Nah," he agrees. "But I'm sure he is. Or he will be."
"Well," says Veronica, raising an invisible glass, "here's to hoping he's marinating in self loathing."
Keith raises his own invisible drink. "Salud!"
And as he screams away in his conspicuously yellow SUV, there is plenty of loathing in Logan Echolls although he hasn't quite worked his way down to self loathing yet.
He has to work his way past his father for fucking up absolutely everything, and his mother for leaving him, and his dead girlfriend and her very-much-alive beaner piece on the side, and the rest of the Mexican grease monkeys who- by the way- Veronica just sided with. He's got all this nervous energy, and he feels like his skin is trying to crawl off to weep in a corner.
Where does she get off, blaming any of this on him? He's just an innocent bystander who might have accidentally kicked a gang leader in the face one night on the Coronado Bridge. An injured party who may have extracted a small measure of revenge by lightly toasting the local pool.
But it's burning out fast, the righteous anger, and he knows he's gonna miss it when it's gone because then he's gonna be left there with the nagging suspicion that the tiny blonde one was right. And he's just lost what ballast he had left to keep him from capsizing.
THREE WEEKS LATER
She's been seeing Duncan every day at the Hut. He and Meg broke up the last week of school. She steadfastly refuses to believe the reason is the revelation that she's not his sister. Because that would mean it's her fault the only decent 09er in town is hurting, and she just can't have that on her shoulders right now.
Still, it's nice to see him and his undemanding smiles. She misses the girl she was with him. That Veronica was so uncomplicated, focused. She didn't pick people apart into their constituent parts. She had all this boundless trust. She was likable. She liked everyone in turn.
That Veronica never once accused ANY of the men she loved of either rape OR murder, and... Oh. My. God. Does she miss that.
And as proud as she is of the girl she is now, with her acid tongue and her almost superhuman ability to turn contempt into fuel, Veronica can't help but be nostalgic.
When he gives her the fortune cookie for her birthday, she's grateful, and giddy, and a little dizzy. Could it be that easy to reclaim a measure of the past? So she grabs unto him. Like he's a life raft.
And maybe he is, because she's been floundering without Logan. Not that she thinks she was wrong. Logan is headed in a dangerous direction, but he's made it very clear he's not interested in her assistance, her love, her… Anything.
Against all her better judgment, she's been waiting. She's nearly broken down and called him on a dozen occasions. But the only thing no one has ever taken from Veronica is her pride, and maybe that's not a record she's willing to break. Not even for him.
And Duncan is easy. He's so relaxed and self assured. He never questions his own good fortune, never second guesses himself. Veronica vacillates between finding this comforting and supremely irritating. But he feels so guilty for last year, for the time they lost and the way he washed his hands of her, that he trips over himself being accommodating and thoughtful.
He's working hard to re-create sophomore bliss, to forget that last year ever happened. And Veronica is grateful for the blank slate she's been given, but… She can't forget what happened. And doesn't want to, really. It's in the past, but that doesn't make it history.
Her re-entrance into 09er society has been unbelievably awkward. Nobody actually says anything to her, obviously. Duncan is still king around here, after all, and none of the pretty little rich kids are sure exactly how to treat her.
Is she still an unloyal slut? Is she back to being minor royalty? Are they going to have to pick a side in the Echolls-Kane feud? No one seems clear on where the boundaries are, and Veronica can hardly blame them: she's not sure either.
Of course, Duncan doesn't seem to notice the awkwardness, or else he's very good at pretending. And that is entirely possible. He's always been very good at whitewashing over the elements of the world he finds unappealing. So they're pressing forward, hand-in-hand, and playing the part of any sickeningly cute couple.
Part of the get-back-to-normal campaign is engaging, as a couple, in normal, teenage extracurricular activities. Which includes the oh-so-scintillating Future Business Leaders of America. Pretending to invest imaginary money along with the sons of Neptune's finest while PowerPoint presentations play dimly in the background doesn't exactly excite, but Duncan is trying so hard she feels honor bound to at least make an attempt at being an attentive and appreciative girlfriend.
However, the afternoon she and Duncan walk in together to find the only available seats on either side of Logan, she's finding it especially difficult to pretend. Logan throws them a contemptuous glance before picking up his lunch and tossing it down on the farthest desk, leaving a pair of seats together.
Veronica sits as far as she can from the angry young man and smiles wanly at Duncan who sits between them with a heated glance for his erstwhile best friend. This fierceness is something she doesn't see much out of Duncan anymore, and she's startled by this flash of fury.
She's seeing elements of last year's lover boy, and as much pain as that boy gave her, she's sort of pleased he's not all sweetness and light. He can pretend as much as he likes, but she's not the only one who's been changed by the past two years.
She's been zoning out on the conversation thus far, and when she refocuses they're talking about- of all things- a sailboat.
"Is that a Swan 40?" asks Duncan gesturing to the photo pinned up by Mr. Pope's desk.
"Yeah, nice, huh? From 1971," says Mr. Pope with obvious pride. "I, ah, I would have retired earlier, but actually the, uh, the restoration's been tricky. We had to reseal the hull twice."
Logan's eyes glint brutally as he smirks at Duncan, "Didn't plug her right the first time, huh?"
There's a beat and then Dick Casablancas is snickering loudly. Another beat and Duncan has Logan by the collar, and they're spinning into the hall grappling with each other. Duncan slams Logan up against a locker while Logan flails his fists into Duncan's back. One more beat and they're both on the ground laying into each other for all they're worth.
Mr. Pope wades into the fray, yelling and pulling each boy to their feet before shoving them, both bloody, towards the nurse's office. Stunned, Veronica follows a few paces behind and ducks into an empty classroom as Mr. Pope leaves the office and heads back towards the FBLA, muttering. She pops out of the darkened classroom and hovers just outside the nursing station door while the nurse patches up the warriors.
"Well, I can tell you one thing: whoever it is you're fighting over, she won't be very impressed by this," mutters the nurse, disgusted with her charges. "And you're done. I believe the principal is waiting for you," she says to Duncan before turning to Logan and grumbling, "I'll be back for you."
Veronica ducks back into the shadows as the angry woman stomps by in her squeaky sensible shoes. Veronica's not exactly sure why she's sneaking, maybe it's simply force of habit, but she stalks up to the doorway and leans against the lockers just outside and listens in.
"Actually, I disagree with Nurse Ratched," says Logan, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "I think Veronica would have been quite impressed. Probably a little turned on too."
Veronica sucks in her breath at his words, suddenly forced to examine exactly what that healthy surge of blood in her pulse points really signifies. She doesn't like this side of herself- the violent, vengeful girl who sometimes seems to wear her skin- but she can't deny the triumphant little thrill she's feeling. Logan knows her so much better then he has any right to.
Duncan's tone is low and fierce as he returns, "Careful, Logan. You're exposing your soft underbelly."
"My underbelly is rock-hard. It can go all night." It'd sound like a joke if Logan didn't have that undercurrent of menace in his voice.
Duncan's trying to keep it civil, rational, when he says, "You lost her; I didn't steal her." She can hear Logan bounce off the exam table.
All the indolent posturing is gone now. "Oh, hell with Veronica. She's in the rear-view mirror. Where were you this summer, man?"
Duncan's reply is terse. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, remember, there was this little situation? I was accused of murder? I am the eye of a storm and I never heard from you. It is a war out there and you're on the sidelines? Do you remember when you used to have my back?"
The hurt in Logan's tone is overwhelming, but Duncan's not really prepared to surrender his anger just yet. "Yeah, wait, I do remember this summer. I was dealing with this thing, what was it? Oh, yeah, I remember now. Your dad murdered my sister."
Veronica can hear Ms. Squeaky Shoes coming up the hallway, so she high tails it to the relative safety of a nearby janitor's closet with the door left open just a crack. "The principal's waiting, young man," the nurse says thickly in the distance. Duncan is striding through the doorway when she hears Logan quietly murmur, "I hate him too, you know."
So there. None of this is really about her. Intellectually, Veronica knows that this is a good thing; that these best friends have had everything stripped from them, and they need each other. But a little piece of her she didn't know she was still carrying around is hurt. He's definitely done with her.
Logan cares for her so little that even his always overactive jealousy can't be engaged. She's glad they've made nice. And she decides to get the hell out of there before she has to speak to either of them.
A/N: I'm back! With a new story! After a mere 6 months! I like exclamation points! But seriously folks... This is MOSTLY written this time. The first 5 chapters are ready to go, and a majority of the rest of the story is in place. I have a few scenes to flesh out, a few set pieces to insert, but this is mostly done! And because of this unusual turn of events, I propose a new posting model: I will post a new chapter every other Sunday without fail no matter what. Every two weeks you will get a new chapter. Or, if I get 25 reviews on the chapter, I will shorten that interval to one week. If I get 50 reviews, I will automatically put up a new chapter, whatever day it is.
On one hand, I feel a little bit scummy shilling for reviews. On the other, I love getting reviews SO MUCH and they are such a nice confidence boost that I kinda want to maximize what I can get. I am NOT holding these chapters for ransom - you'll get them no matter what - but I'm letting you guys decide how quickly you get them. Anyway, at least you know you'll get a new chapter every two weeks. That's a sight better than my last posting schedule! In any event, I hope you enjoy this new story, and I'll see you in two weeks! Or maybe sooner :D