Disclaimer:
I don't own the characters, but I guess I do own the plot? I don't
know, this isn't exactly all that original. A/N: So, a
little piece on Mac and how she is dealing. Tell me if you like
it.
The
first few days afterward, everything is silent. You are aware of your
parents speaking in the background, but their voices are muffled and
you're not really listening. Veronica doesn't tell you what
really happened on that roof and you don't ask. You've heard bits
and pieces from other people, and you are pretty sure you figured it
out right.
It doesn't take long before it is practically forgotten. Neptune is a dramatic town and new things happens, and he is no longer all that important. They all move on to bigger things. Veronica moves on, Logan moves on, everyone in Neptune moves on, and you don't want to be left behind.
So, you pretend everything is fine. You aren't weak. You have always believed that you are strong, that you can overcome anything and even now, you're not willing to believe anything else. You are not broken and there is nothing to fix. No pieces to put back together or things to overcome. No boy to forget and definitely nothing to cry about.
It is fine. You are fine.
You tell nobody about the dreams you have at night or the vision you see just before you fall asleep. And never do you mention the fact that he appears before you on a daily bases, smiling and laughing and giving you the comfort you need. You should hate him, wish for him to go away, but you don't. Without these hallucinations, you are not sure you can survive.
But fact is, you are a shell of your former self. You don't laugh, don't smile. Veronica sees it, Logan sees it. Your family sees it too, but you keep on telling them you are all right. You have to be.
And because you're not the only thing in their universe, they believe you.
--
You ignore the way you see yourself changing; your style, your attitude, your mood. It doesn't matter all that much, all that matters is keeping up the façade. Keeping the emotions off your face, until you look like you've had the life sucked out of you.
You think you are doing pretty well.
Not even when you wake up with your head hurting and your eyes unbelievingly dry and you realizes that you lost your virginity to some guy you don't know, not even then do you stop up to think.
It isn't that big of a deal. It was bound to happen someday, right?
The fact that he apparently left in the middle of the night without so much as a small note doesn't matter either. It brings back an ugly memory, that is still too fresh in your mind, and you only want it go away, but you won't cry. Crying is for the weak.
You aren't weak, you are fine.
Everything is fine.
You tell your therapist, that you are seeing once a week, just that. Your parents have told you it is necessary to speak to someone professional, or else you can be scarred for life. You kind of want to laugh; like you aren't already.
She responses in a nagging voice: No man is an island. Your mind unconsciously goes back to him and all those things he kept inside, and you want to scream and shout, because it is all crap. Instead you keep it cool, because you are the essence of cool these days, and answers:
But
maybe this woman is.
--
It takes another drunken hook up to make you realizes that maybe you aren't all that all right. If it wasn't for the alcohol in your blood, and his, it would never have happen, but strangely, you are kind of glad that it does. It isn't planned, certainly isn't predicted, but the night you spend in Dick Casablancas' arms, you feel something.
It isn't love like it was with Cassidy, it isn't even like and there isn't an overwhelming feeling because he wasn't your first.
But it is something.
The next morning when you wake up, it seems surreal. He is a born player, a ladies man, Mr Love 'em and leave 'em, and you are the nerdy girl, who was over the moon in love with his younger brother. Nothing good can possibly comes from this.
Despite knowing that the night before has done something to you, you swear that you will never be that foolish again.
You aren't, at least not for another week. The next Friday, you suddenly find yourself in the same position, and you realize, you don't mind all that much.
It becomes a habit, just something you do without questioning it. It isn't a friendship, it isn't a relationship either. There is no word, really, but when you are sad, he is there, and when he is sad, you are there. You don't really talk about him and you don't try to fix each other or whisper false promises to each other. You are just together and feeling, slowly healing each other on the way.
For the first time in a while, you see light at the end of the tunnel.
--
For four months it is like that, and the memory of him becomes vaguer and vaguer, it is not often that you think of him. At first you are overwhelmed with guilt; everybody else might be over it, but you cared. You loved him, and you will remember him.
Deep down you know it is bullshit. He was a rapist, a murderer. He doesn't deserve it.
But to you, he is still Cassidy. Sweet shy Cassidy, who stuttered like crazy when he first asked you out, and almost fainted when your lips met his for the first time. You choose to block out the dark sides of him, pretend like he isn't to blame. Woody is, his father is...
Dick is.
But not him.
And that is exactly what makes the two of you fight for the first time.
You knew it would happen someday, you are both so angry, so disappointed in each other, because neither had been able to save him, because neither saw that he needed to be saved.
So when you one day tell him the truth, your truth at least: Hadn't you seen through your little brother, maybe he would be here today, all hell breaks loose. It is stupid, really, very immature, and nothing good comes out of it. You just scream and yell, blaming each other for everything that has gone wrong in your lives, and before you know it, the only thing that was still good in your lives is gone.
You.
But again, it isn't like you care. Your heart feels just a little heavier and a somewhat familiar feeling is in your stomach, but it isn't important. Dick is just a dick, and even though you have had some fun, it is over.
The light is out.
And you are still fine.
--
It's three weeks later and over this time, you have become a master at ignoring people. They don't know about you and Dick, and you don't want them to.
But Veronica, being the detective she is, sees a difference in you. Logan sees it too, and even Wallace notices. You kind of wish they didn't, it's only been about a month since they stopped looking at you like you would break any second and you don't want them to look at you with those sad pitying eyes again.
So, you avoid them. Instead of searching for your friends, for support, you try everything you can to make them go away. Surprisingly, it works and they stay away.
You try not to care about the fact that you are slightly disappointed.
You spend most of your time in your room, ignoring your perky roommate. She's nice, too nice and a part of you are afraid that she wouldn't be able to handle the deep secrets you carry. Girls like this aren't born to deal with things darker than not being able to find a cute top for the next party. But then again, why wonder? It's not like you ever plan on telling her.
For just a short amount of time, you kind of understand why he did all those things. Just to keep a secret. But you know your secret is nothing compared to his, and that only makes it worse.
--
It's along time since you last saw him. The dreams have gone away, and you sleep peacefully, almost, at least.
That is why you are so surprised when they are back on, every night.
It's no longer sweet Cassidy you see; instead it is the troubled boy, who is aiming at gun at your best friend while the bus explodes in the background. Another man, older with brown hair, is smirking cruelly. You can't quite make him out but he scares you.
Basically, it is all screams, yells, cries, and you usually wake up covered in cold sweat, your whole body trembling.
You don't like it and nothing about it feels fine.
You want to save them, him, tell him to stop, and promise that everything will be all right. You want to cry, scream and shout at him for being the person he is and for not loving you like you love him. You want to just freakin' hold him, to tell him that you understand and kiss away his tears.
But you don't.
When you tell Dr. Malone about it, she stares at you like you are crazy. You figure, you probably aren't far from.
--
You only see him once, in the hall. He's walking with Logan, a bright smile on his face, and there is this tingling feeling in your stomach, that makes you feel kind of girly. It's not you and you don't like that he of all people can make you feel this way. Only one person has been able to do that and he shattered every dream you had.
It must be in the genes, you whisper to no one, really. These days there aren't really anyone, and you know it's your own fault.
You silently promise yourself that you won't be another fool falling for the Dick-charm. Especially not when he obviously has no problem moving on.
When you walk by him, neither of you say hello. Since this little "romance" is over, you'll go back to pretending you were never friends. Which, in fact, you never really were, so it should be no problem.
And it's all fine, you like it this way.
--
It's the final blow when your little brother gets sick.
Your parents call you, leaving a message, and when you hear how worried they sound, you decide to ditch your last class.
That afternoon, they tell you. Their eyes are unusually bright, glassy and watering, and you feel your heart actually stop beating for a little amount of time. The words won't register in your mind, even as they repeat themselves over and over again in your goddamn head.
Ryan. Cancer. Ryan. Cancer. Ryan. Cancer.
He's an annoying little bastard, but you love him to death. And the thought that he might actually die someday not so long from know, makes you physically ill.
You're in your own dorm, when you throw up for the first time that day, emptying your stomach in the toilet. Your hands are gripping the sides tightly, turning them white, and your hair is in the way, but you don't push it away, because, really, you don't have the energy to move a finger. You try to keep the tears from falling, because for so long you've been able to, but it seems like it's all over now.
And so, you let them fall.
It is about an hour later and you are still on the bathroom floor. Your mind is working overtime, trying to think of all the things you have to tell him. You are not willing to believe that he'll actually be gone, but just in case… You think of every little fight you've had, about how awful you were to him after you found out that he wasn't really your brother, about how pleased you felt for a moment.
A little part of you is wondering if maybe you deserved all of this.
You don't think of only your brother, but of everything else that went wrong. You think of sweet shy Cassidy, of his obnoxious yet fascinating brother, of strong Logan and even stronger Veronica and of your far too oblivious roommate.
You don't even realize that you have dialled a number before your phone is in your hands and you are whispering to him:
Come over.
And he does.
--
1.314.000 minutes. 21.900 hours. 365 days. 52 weeks. 12 months.
One year.
It has been just that since that night where your boyfriend jumped of the roof of the Neptune Grand, while you cried your eyes out on the floor, drape din nothing but a freakin' shower curtain.
It seems like much less, you decide. It seems like it was just yesterday that you… lost him. It is like your mind and body stopped functioning somewhere along the way, but the world and everybody else just moved on, leaving you frozen in your mess of a life.
You think, finally, you are no longer cold or frozen.
You won't say that you are completely over it, because you probably never will be. It's not an easy thing to overcome, and even when you think of it now, you cry. The dreams, nightmares, are gone and he's still sweet shy Cassidy as always and you don't think that will ever change for you. Perhaps it's for the best, because there are enough people hating him in this world and far too less loving him.
But Dick loves him.
And you wonder if you love Dick. He's your friend, and more, and it has been like that ever since he came that night not long ago. The tingling in your stomach is still there when you are near him, and it's no longer just about healing each other.
You can now say with complete confidence that you are all right.
You're not fine yet, but you know it will come.