Something to Be Said for Sailing off Cliffs
As a little girl, you always dreamed of flying. It was a wondrous and holy thing, and you often pestered your mother (before you were old enough to understand) why it was that you weren't allowed to fly off the cliffs as you did in your dreams.
The ragged sharp rocks were your friends (looking back on this it is no wonder that the people you chose to love were as jagged and broken as this proud precipice you so fondly remembered) ; they shaped your best dreams, giving you a place from which to fly.
As you got older, the dreams did not fade, and often your best friend Lilly would join you cliffside.
There was something just a touch bitter in the sweet sugary treat that was flying then. You could never shake the feeling that one of these days (and you meant soon) one of you would leap off and never make it back (funny, you were always so sure it would be you).
When Lilly is murdered (so much blood), your dreams of cliffs and flying become much more ominous.
It is always the same, with you and Lilly sitting on the edge, your feet hanging over, looking down at the water below. Then Lilly stands, and holds her arms out, and twirls around.
"Who says we can't fly, Veronica Mars? We are two of a kind, we are awesome! We can do anything!"
(except, apparently, for surviving a sharp blow to the head… sometimes you think you didn't survive the blow that killed your best friend)
The remainder of the nightmare is usually spent begging Lilly to just hold on, to not go just yet. She never asks you why, and she never, ever responds with anything more than a sad smile. Then she turns her back to you, and you never know if it's in preparation to jump or just to watch the sun set, because it is at that moment that you always wake up (and this is when the panic truly starts).
As you get deeper into the murder investigation, your dreams become more twisted and dark. You don't ever remember having any dreams, other than the ones where your best friend's ghost joins you on the edge of a dangerous drop.
"Lilly, no, don't… just… please don't jump!"
"Why not, Veronica?" And you are shocked into silence because this is the first time she's ever verbally acknowledged your pleas.
"B-because…" you stutter, "you'll… you'll die!" It should have been obvious to her, really.
"Oh Veronica," she whispers, and you hear real sorrow in her voice. "Can't you see? It's already too late to prevent that."
(she's been gone much longer than you know; lost, perhaps, before you even found her to begin with)
You jolt awake as she turns her back on you again, and your scream brings your concerned father running into your bedroom.
The sight is just a little too close to the image of Lilly running towards the cliff's edge, and you vomit all over yourself and your bed, and your father's slippers.
On the night you find out the truth about who killed your best friend (and almost killed you and might still have killed your father) that your dreams take another turn.
For the very first time since you can remember, you and Lilly are not sitting with your feet dangling over the edge of those mocking cliffs. You are no longer Lilly, the tragic maiden and Veronica, the avenger and revealer of truths. You are simply Lilly and Veronica, and you're resting in a pool of sweetly scented flowers.
Don't forget about me, Veronica Mars. (and somehow it is important that she uses the whole name, because it's finally who you are, finally a name that you have managed to live up to).
I could never.
It's better like this, isn't this better? (of course it's better, did she think you preferred being locked in freezers and set on fire?)
You know how things are going to be from now on, don't you? You have to know. (and is that the faint outline of wings that you see behind her?)
Just like this.
(Later on, once you've had a chance to process everything that happened to you tonight, your dreams will turn from sweet to bitter and horrible again, but for now, there is only Lilly, and you, and the calm water.)
She gives you a sad half-smile that tells you she isn't buying it, and knows you aren't either. You've both known from day one of your post-mortem friendship that nothing will ever be just like this again.
You close your eyes, and you know you're there again. The cliffs that spin your dreams and haunt your nightmares. You can feel Lilly hovering somewhere over you, and you just know.
So finally, breathing out, you open your eyes and, finally, you…
… let…
…her…
... go…
(And then there is only you).
And there's something to be said for finally taking the running leap that sends you sailing off the cliffs and into the soft night air. You close your eyes and wait for the panic to overtake you, but your chest remains bubbly and light. You don't need to open your eyes again to know that the landscape around you is changing, and twisting into something new (and yes, a little scary) that you've never known before.
You don't have to turn to know, but when you feel the steady tug of Lilly's presence fade, you do anyway, and you see clouds and stormy winds, and you also see sun and dancing and laughter. Mostly though, you see the waves. The gentle black cradle that has a presence steadier and more enduring than that of any ghost, and you smile. You're not flying anymore, but you left the panic behind with Lilly. You smile as you give yourself over to the waves.
8 ½ miles away, you don't feel it as the only person who could comfort you in the days to come takes his own leap and gives himself over to the very same waves, in a much different manner.
Perhaps you woke up before the sinister deep could close over his head and crush him.
Still, in the coming months, he will be waiting for you by your cliffs in your dreams, forever a boy poised to leap, always somewhere between fear and flight… and you will know that he knows…
… there is something to be said for sailing off cliffs.