Title: I'm Still Here
Author: ScarlettWoman710
Summary: It starts with an apology. Not their history, that actually began way before the random trip to the beach that threw Mac and Dick together for an afternoon bonfire. Their history starts when they're five years old, when Cindy Mackenzie finds herself in the same kindergarten class as Dick Casablancas.
Disclaimer: I do not own Veronica Mars. Also, this episode features some dialogue taken from episode 3:19, "Weevil's Wobble But They Don't Go Down."
Spoilers: Up through season 3
Authors Note: Hi all! This is not my first fanfiction, but my first in the Veronica Mars fandom. I loved the show when it first aired and got back into it this summer, thanks to the SoapNet reruns. While I didn't ship Mac and Dick the first time around, I did in my re-watch. I blame it on Ryan Hansen's beautiful face. ;)
Many thanks to my good friend jandjsalmon for serving as a beta on this. I'll do my best to update as frequently as possible. As this is the prologue, it's a little shorter than the other chapters. Hope you enjoy!
It starts with an apology.
Not their history, that actually began way before the random trip to the beach that threw Mac, Dick, Logan, Veronica, Piz and Wallace together for an afternoon bonfire. Their history starts when they're five years old, when Cindy Mackenzie finds herself in the same kindergarten class as Dick Casablancas.
He was beautiful, even as child, with blonde curls that he could never keep out of his blue eyes and plaid button down shirts always tucked into cargo shorts. He was nice then, but he had no reason not to be. Five years old was too young to understand what it meant to live in the 90909 zip code. They barely knew their house numbers, much less postal addresses. In Kindergarten, he didn't make fun of her or tease her or call her names, and he was always willing to share his blocks during playtime.
Things changed, obviously.
Clothes started to matter. People learned to recognize the difference between sneakers from Wal*Mart and sneakers from Nike. It started to matter what your parents did, if they worked for somebody else or if they were the person that people worked for. And then, when they were in seventh grade, somebody put a name on it - something they had picked up from an older sibling that went to the high school.
"09er."
It meant privilege and class and wealth. It meant being beautiful, thanks to the right clothes and hair stylists, dermatologists to handle unfortunate middle school acne, and a plastic surgeon to take care of bumps in noses and to shave down jawlines during summer vacation. Being an 09er meant summer homes and pool houses and vacations and big, fat sports cars with giant bows for your sixteenth birthday.
And though he only got more beautiful as he grew, there was little else left of the person Dick Casablancas used to be by the time he started his high high school career. Being an 09-er meant Dick never had to share his blocks. It meant Dick never had to share anything.
Us. Them. Class lines were drawn, not in sand but it stone.
Needless to say, that was the end of Dick and Mac and anything that could ever be called friendship.
His brother on the other hand... now that was a different story.
Mac doesn't say his name, partly because she doesn't know which one to use. She compartmentalizes them into to different people. Cassidy was the one who made her laugh, who said sweet things and who held her hand at the carnival. The Beaver was the one who killed a bus full of their classmates. Cassidy kissed her gently as they lay in bed, too shy or scared to go any further. The Beaver was the one who raped Veronica. Cassidy got them a hotel room after graduation. The Beaver stole all of her clothes and abandoned her in the Neptune Grand.
She loved Cassidy. She hates the Beaver.
Still. Probably forever.
But even though it still hurts (she knows it's a wound that might never heal) she's trying her best to move on. She's got Max now, though she's not entirely sure how she feels about him. He's exciting, sure. Every girl's got to date a bad boy once in their life, right? And he's pretty - with wide eyes and easy smiles. Beyond that she's got to admit that there's not a whole lot between them. But hey, who says a relationship built on wild sexual chemistry isn't built to last?
She's thinking about Max and where it is their relationship is headed when she makes an offhand comment about Wallace's plan and thrust, not realizing how laced with innuendo her statement was until after Dick had acted like... well, a dick, again, and she huffs off to join Wallace when she hears someone calling her name behind her.
She tries to ignore him, but her legs are short and Dick walks much faster than she does.
"So, I know you and I haven't always been like, best buds or whatever," he says, giving an exaggerated gesture and sloshing beer from an oversized can out onto the sand. "But, do you want to know why?"
"Not really," she says dryly, but slows her pace a fraction so that Dick wouldn't need to jog to keep up with her.
"It's because you were so smart, you and Beav," he continues, either not noticing or choosing to ignore her obvious lack of enthusiasm for this conversation. "And I figured you could tell that I was an idiot. So, like, I figured the best defense was a good offense."
He reaches for her shoulder to still her, spinning her slightly towards him. She glares at his hand before letting her eyes meet his, skepticism etched in the flat set of her eyes.
"The way I treated you and Beav was totally uncool," he says sincerely, hand still resting on her shoulder. "And I'm totally sorry for all those things I said."
She's taken aback, to say the least, but there's nothing but honesty in his expression. And though she wants to hate him (and a part of her does, simply because there's too much history between the two for anything less) she realizes for the first time that as much as she's suffered at the hands of "The Beaver," the only person who probably has an inkling of the pain she's gone through is the brother that gave him the nickname he so despised. And because she's never been the kind to kick a person when they're down (that's usually Dick's M.O.), she throws him a bone.
"Yeah, okay," she agrees, her expression impassive. "Accepted."
"Cool," he says, relief evident in his tone. "You're so cool. I get it now, what my brother saw in you."
And then he closes his eyes and leans in to kiss her.
Leave it to Dick Casablancas to think that anything less than an outright profession of hate is a sexual invitation. She only has time to roll her eyes and shove his face aside to prevent contact. Regardless of whatever Dick had planned, the conversation is over, she decides, giving him one last withering glare before walking away. Dick, tactful as ever, only huffs out a laugh and calls out after her not to tell Logan.
As she makes her way down to Wallace, she's surprised to find that she's having difficulty suppressing the smile on her face. Not because Dick tried to kiss her - she's certainly not interested in wherever his mouth has been, and any intimate contact with Dick would require a hazmat suit and a post-interaction silkwood shower - but because she's remembering the boy in Kindergarten that was always so eager to share his blocks. Maybe he's still in there, somewhere. Maybe there's hope for Dick Casablancas yet.
That should have been it. Closure, for years of mistreatment, for Dick living up to his namesake, for the pain his brother caused them both. It should have been the end of their story.
It's only the beginning.
It starts with an apology.