The funeral was small. No more than fifty people sat in uncomfortable chairs surrounded by dark red tulips. No white flowers, she had written out what she wanted after her encounter with the Fitzpatricks. No music, no programs, and there was a long list of people that she had written down as not being allowed to attend. There was one liberty her father had taken, though. She had asked for no inscription on her epitaph, but the words were engraved there nonetheless.
She never took no for an answer and pushed ahead where others paused.
The press is there, down the winding road. Stopped at the gates, but their presence is known. The story of the sheriff's daughter/best friend to Lilly Kane/star witness in the Aaron Echolls trial being found shot on the roof of the Neptune Grand the night of her high school graduation was national news. It seemed murder had come again to the small California town with a higher death rate that Los Angeles.
Through the bleakness of the day, the sun shone in true SoCal fashion. All of them cursed inwardly at the mild weather with a soothing breeze. Something precious had been taken from them, it should be raining with shove-over gales. God had at least given them clouds for the other girl's ceremony. It didn't matter, not really. Her being gone was like a black hole anyway.
He hated himself. For not being able to protect her. For teaching her the skills which had gotten her killed. For not getting to her fast enough.
The driving force in his life was below him. She was his everything, and now she was gone. No parent should have to lose a child, he thought. No child should have to lose their life. No child should have to live the life she had. But she had lived it, and somehow made it look easy. He couldn't even comprehend everything he knew she had to go through, and there were the issues that he didn't know about. There was the life-altering moment of which he hadn't been told the reason. Now he wonders if he should have asked.
Dropping to his knees, the figurine fell out of his hands before her box. As he stood again, he propped the pony in her arms and whispered softly, hoping she could hear him.
I will find out what happened, sweetheart.
He hated himself. For not being able to protect her. For hating her for so long, when none of it was her fault. For not admitting to himself that he loved her.
The girl that he thought would forever be a thorn in his side was lying lifeless in front of him. She had been everything- friend, enemy, lover. He had long ago forgiven her for breaking up with him that summer. After the year they had shared, he understood that she wanted normal again. The only problem he had with her choice was that normal was not him. He had known what she couldn't admit. Normal is a pipe dream, you need to embrace the deformities.
Ignoring the murmurings that came from the crowd when he rose, he walked up to the front and stood next to her father. Placing the bear on her casket, he whispered the sentiment written on its heart.
I love you.
He hated himself. For not being able to protect her. For leaving her alone that night, and going off to the girl she had never approved of. For not making her trust him enough to call him for help.
Meeting her had changed his life, even though he hadn't realized it. Her confidence that had come from tragedy helped him become more outgoing. She had been the hardest person to befriend, but once she considered him one, she was fiercely possessive. He should have been just as overprotective, sheilding her from what had happened.
Setting his shoulders back, he stood above the hole and dropped a grocery bag full of baking supplies. Clenching his jaw in grief, he whispered the words that had surprised her the first time he spoke them.
You're my best friend, you pissy little marshmallow.
He hated himself. For not being able to protect her. For not doing more to make those first few tragic months easier for her. For not giving her that parking space.
He had watched her mature, into a hard and calculating young woman who was capable of anything. She had aged him twenty years, but he knows he'd give her more if she could only barge into his office again. The unconventional relationship they had was one that he had been perturbed by at first, but had then come to appreciate.
Clenching the item in his pocket, he neglected to walk to the front and leave it. He knew he couldn't come back, because a high school principal isn't supposed to visit the grave of a former student. Much less leave a set of master keys to the school next to her headstone. Instead, he whispered his note of respect.
There will never be another one like you.
He hated himself. For not being able to protect her. For messing her life up, before she was even born. For never telling her the truth.
The child that he had hoped could be forgotten had been thrust into his life twofold when she became best friends with his acknowledged children. Even after she was no longer allowed in his life- his fault- she grew into a young woman that he could be proud of. That he was proud of. It didn't matter, she had grown to hate him. She had learned the truth, little by little. He could see each time she found out the next betrayal on his part. Her eyes slowly lost their grief and pity when they focused on him, they had eventually become dulled with disinterest.
Placing the last piece of Lilly's jewelry Celeste had kept in the house next to the stone, he whispered the words he had never told her.
I loved you like a daughter.
He hated himself. For not being able to protect her. For mocking her in her time of need. For continually making her life hell.
Her face had haunted his dreams for a long time. And with her death, the image had popped up again. Over the course of two years he watched her change, and hadn't been entirely sure if he had liked it. It had taken him a while to face the feelings, but somewhere along the way he had fallen in lust with her. Not love, because that was an emotion neither of them appreciated. He had taunted her in order to keep his mouth away from where he really wanted it to be. And her taunts back at him reminded for him to not take it further. That and the fact that he knew she would reject him. She had every right to.
Placing a badge on the ground- the one that should have belonged to her father, he whispered the words he knew to be true.
Veronica Mars is smarter than me.
He hated himself. For not being able to protect her. For losing another girl that went toe to toe with him. For not realizing how much she meant to him.
For years he had seen her as everyone else had: the virginal sidekick to Neptune's princess. Even when she made her 'transformation,' he had refused to see her. Then she challenged him, and a favor-based relationship was made. He was her petty criminal, she was his secret get-out-of-jail-free card.
Kneeling before the engraved slab, he set a folded leather jacket in front of it. Shedding tears freely, he whispered what he recognized now that she was gone.
You were someone I could have really been with.
He hates himself. For not being able to protect her. For walking past her the first time. For asking her for help the second time. For loving her when he shouldn't have.
He found out through the television that she was gone. The event that had shifted their lives has shoved them all into he public eye. There were talks of a curse onto the foursome among the less than reputable news sources. He wonders if it's true.
Staring out to the ocean while sitting on his boat, he found himself not knowing how long he had been there. Dropping the tattered photo of homecoming past, he found himself without a voice. Typical. Not able to speak, his thoughts came out as a whisper.
I always loved you.
Sitting in silence, those whose lives had been touched by the blonde each had thoughts, wishes and regrets. If only they had seen something, heard something, done something to stop what had happened. But despite their best efforts, the girl had a list of enemies the president would be impressed with. She had tangled with two different mafias, psychotic movie stars, corrupt businessmen and handled high school. It was almost anticlimactic of her to be found alone of a rooftop with a bullet in her skull, and no one else around that she had taken with her.
There would be no more head tilts, no more favors, no more scathing remarks or accusations. The tornado they had all been pulled to had been taken away, leaving them all still reeling with whiplash.
She had lived life as though bulletproof. Each one of them wishes she hadn't been proved wrong. None of them say the words out loud, but the feeling is overwhelming.
Come back.