The characters are not mine. All credit goes to Rob Thomas and the television network. This story fits in anywhere mid season 1. Enjoy!
Veronica never talked about the past, and Wallace respected that. He didn't like to talk about his past either—Cleveland, his Dad's slow decline that did nothing to negate the shock of his death. It was better to leave the past in the past. Still, it didn't mean that Wallace wasn't curious about Veronica's days as the girlfriend of the golden 09er prodigy and best friend to the girl who seemed the very definition of sparkling and mischievous.
Wallace didn't mean to search out clues about Veronica's past life, as he called it in her head, it just sort of happened. He blamed it on tendencies picked up from the teen detective herself.
So when Veronica left him alone in her room part way through half-hearted study session for American History, Wallace couldn't help but get up from his sprawled position half-on and half off the beanbag, and move closer to the collection of pictures on by her bed.
Veronica answered the phone with a purposeful and straightforward, "Hello," before switching to her patented sorority-girl shtick. "Yes this is Amy," Veronica giggled into the phone, "of course I can get you the pictures, but I have to know it's you first, don't I." She giggled again and mouthed, "Back soon," as she left the room to answer her cell. He heard her faint voice in the hallway just before she closed the door, "I know it's you Buddy but my boss would just kill me if I didn't double check."
Wallace shook his head, that girl, he thought. He incredibly respected Veronica's guts and ability to chase justice with a single focus, all while worrying for the situations she could get herself into. She was only seventeen, no matter how well she passed tried to pass for older.
Veronica's formidable personality—the one which made her the one out of the entire population of Neptune High to cut Wallace off the flagpole, also contributed to Wallace's intense fascination with the before Veronica.
How had the girl who wasn't afraid to confront the PCHers, and managed to semi-regularly sneak into the sheriff's office, once gotten her thrills from prom night shenanigans with Logan, Lilly and Duncan?
Wallace stopped his musing to listen for Veronica's voice. Still surprisingly wrapped up in her conversation with "Buddy" it seemed, Wallace chanced picking up the photo from her shelf and sitting on her bed to examine it.
Veronica looked softer, her hair was longer, and she looked happier. Grinning into the camera, she was hanging off Lilly, with Echolls and Duncan Kane rounding out the picture. The picture was out of focus at the corners, giving it an ethereal quality. Wallace tried to picture Veronica of, was it really only last year? Try as he might, he couldn't reconcile the image of the Veronica who had cut him down from the flagpole—all angry lines and chopped hair and fierce accusations, with the Veronica of this picture—laughing, open, and overwhelmingly the picture of a typical fifteen year old girl.
Lilly Kane was a no-go subject between himself and Veronica. Wallace felt the odd man out because he never knew Lilly. Whatever adjective people used to describe Lilly, from mesmerizing to lively to bitchy—every term captured her as dynamic, as alive. Wallace would never have the pleasure, or horror, of knowing Lilly Kane, maybe that was the tragedy in and of itself. He wasn't sure if Lilly was the type of girl he would like, he was almost certain he was not the type of guy Lilly would give a second glance. Still, he felt sad that he would only know her as a victim of murder.
Death, whether from the furtive illness that took down his father or the brutal violence that silenced Lilly, sucked.
No matter the strength of his and Veronica's blossoming friendship, he would never understand the weight of Lilly's death on Veronica, nor would she understand the impact life without a father had on Wallace. And for that reason, Wallace could never completely understand the old Veronica, who smiled so innocently from the photo in his hands.
"Watcha ya doing there Wallace?" Veronica's voice startled him from the doorway. He jumped up, dropping the photo and feeling like a criminal caught red-handed.
Veronica looked down at the photo of herself lying at Wallace's feet. "Are you collecting pictures to add to your stalker file again?" she jokingly admonished. Veronica Mars, never one to show her surprise in a situation, even when her potential best friend was caught going through emotionally-charged old pictures.
"I just uh..." Wallace stumbled, "haven't seen this picture of you before." His recovery in awkward situations was nowhere near as practiced as Veronica's, though he did pride himself for the ease with which he could now steal permanent files.
Wallace was surprised to see her face soften, instead of harden when she glanced down at the photo, before she bent down to pick it up.
"Funny to think this was just over a year and a half ago." Veronica mused, almost as if aloud but not directed towards Wallace.
"Veronica," Wallace grabbed her shoulder, "I'm sorry you don't have to talk, to remember about, you know..." he trailed off, unsure of how to word his thoughts. He desperately wanted to apologize, to reassure Veronica she didn't have to talk about her old life. No matter how curious Wallace might be, he knew the inability to look back for fear of it translating into an inability to move forward. He saw the brittle way Veronica talked and looked sometimes, he didn't want to force her to talk. He said it the first time he met her, Veronica Mars was a marshmallow deep down inside.
"No it's okay," she replied, almost in a trance, all traces of Amy's character washed away from Veronica. "I don't just want to talk away my feelings, but it's nice to talk sometimes."
She took a break, looking startled to find herself talking about the feelings she kept hidden away in her marshmallow core. Wallace swore he could see the layers of thought flitting through her brain.
Maybe it was the fact that it was dark out, and her dad was gone and it felt like her room was the only place in existence. Maybe it was the fact that they were both exhausted from cramming for their test, and she decided any distraction was better than studying. Whatever the reason, Veronica decided to continue the conversation Wallace had inadvertently started about Lilly, rather than avoid it.
"It was homecoming…and we stayed out all night if you can believe it," she began, sitting on back down on her bed. Wallace settled in next to her, keeping his movements smooth, for fear of breaking Veronica's reminiscence. "Someone—Logan or Duncan I guess—rented a limo. I was so naïve, I thought we were actually going to the dance. We got in the limo, and Lilly was ruling the party, as usual. She kissed me."
"What?" Wallace broke his face's neutrality at the nonchalance of Veronica's admission. She looked at him, and for a moment Wallace feared she was about to turn on him in anger. Instead, she started laughing.
"It was a dare," she explained still smiling, "get those fantasies out of your head, Fennel" she added.
"Me?" Wallace feigned innocence, spreading his arms out wide, before cracking a smile.
"We were playing truth or dare, and Logan, thinking he was being smart, dared Lilly to make out with someone in the car. She chose me, probably just to piss him off, she was good at that." Veronica's forehead wrinkled a bit, as if she was just discovering Lilly's more unsavoury characteristics.
"I know what you're thinking" she said fixing Wallace with a serious stare, "everything you've heard of her, makes her sound like a bitch. She was, I guess. But she was also…I don't know how to explain it."
"Alive?" Wallace offered, and then realizing his description might sound offensive, he tried to backtrack, "not like that I meant, she seems like she was full of life, you know?"
"Yeah," Veronica looked at the picture pensively, "that's a good way to put it. She was just one of those people who you could just forgive, or at least forget about her mistakes, because she was, yeah, so full of life."
There was a silence as Veronica contemplated what she had just said. Wallace looked down at the faded picture held in Veronica's hand, and back at the girl sitting on the bed, history books forgotten at her feet.
Maybe, Wallace thought, he would never understand who girl in the cotton homecoming dress was. But, he did understand maybe a little more of why Lilly was worthy of Veronica's bent obsession for truth and justice.
Because, just like Lilly, Veronica was full of life. And she was one of those people you could just forgive, or at least forget, about their mistakes. To Wallace, she would always be the fearless, blond outcast who cut him off of the flagpole.
"Sorry," Veronica said abruptly.
"No no, it's okay," Wallace reassured, and at the same time Veronica started speaking again, "I'm not good at, you know," she gestured at the ground. "It's the first time I've really talked, remembered…"
"I mean, I know it's not really your thing, but you're welcome to remember to me anytime. It helps, not all the time, but sometimes," Wallace said sincerely. He wanted to reach out and hug her, but he wasn't sure if the gesture might be too much.
"Thanks," Veronica said, "It helps?" She questioned him confused, and then realization dawned on her face. "Your dad…"
"Not the same thing," Wallace stated quietly, "but I mean it sucks all the same."
Veronica surprised him by initiating the hug. Leaning across the bed, she wrapped him in her arms. Wallace, forever the big brother in his family, was surprised at how nice it felt to be an equal in sincere conversation. Not the son, or the older brother, but a friend.
"I figured you didn't want to hear about me and my glory-filled days as an almost 09er." She said the last part of her phrase with her characteristic sarcasm, bringing her arms away from Wallace. Breaking his thoughts, Wallace laughed.
"Are you kidding? Getting all the dirt on the richest kids in school, who wouldn't want to hear about that?" Wallace joked. Veronica laughed at that, and adopted her usual spirited look.
"Oh you would be surprised at all the blackmail material I have in here," she tapped her head, "and only a small part of that is from less than legal PI activities, I'll have you know."
Wallace clapped his hands together in anticipation. Veronica, however, pushed herself off the bed and grabbed her American History textbook.
"History first, then story time," she told him, handing him the heavy, hardbound text.
Wallace didn't push her for more stories. But he couldn't help but find it fitting that they were studying history, of all subjects. History of America, history of Veronica, history of Wallace. For two people, who claimed to not think about the past, they sure had managed to spend a lot of time remembering.