Author's Note: I've been sick in bed this weekend so I decided to dabble a little in a different fandom. I'm also experimenting with a different style of writing. These are five little pieces of fiction that came out of watching Veronica Mars and listening to Salt-N-Pepa's "Whatta man" which is the perfect fan vid song for Veronica and all her men. If you are fan of VM, you should be able to recognize the second party in each story, save the first one. It's a little more generic. Each one, could probably be a longer, more complex story, but I've chosen to let the reader fill in the blanks with their own i-magin-ation. I hope you enjoy them.
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She wasn't entirely sure exactly how her life became so unrecognizable. She knows this time she's really fucked up. Caught up in the flow, tired of being made of sharp edges and barb wire, an amazing inability to be completely honest with herself all contributed to her current unhappiness. Funny thing is her dad knew it would happen before she did. She remembers standing in back of the church waiting for her music to start, watching Mac gliding down the aisle in eggplant. Keith asked her twice if she was absolutely sure this is what she wants to do. But she vowed not to cause that kind of pain to the people in her life anymore. She doesn't want that "Official Bitch of the Year" award and so she steps onto the red carpet when the organ begins to play.
He never asks about the fortune cookie message on her mirror, never comments on the homecoming picture on the other side. She's grateful, because she's not sure she could lie about it. She stands in front of her reflection, willing herself to want the normalcy, willing herself to be happy. She fails miserably and focuses her will on the faces of the only two men who have captured her heart. She silently begs and pleads one of them to come find her, rescue her, give her the excuse she needs. Tears slip down her cheeks. She's broken and she hates it.
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She passes a new case folder to her partner. She will be finishing graduate school soon and will probably hand most of the reins over to him. They discuss finding Mr. Atkins' wayward daughter, the best places to locate a fifteen year old. He asks her if she wants to have lunch again. She clears her throat and regretfully says no, telling him they can no longer have that meal together.
"I told you it was legendary." He leers at her and predicts. "You'll be back V." He chuckles to himself and parts with a mocking air kiss. "See you tomorrow, Mrs. Piznarski."
She leans back in her chair, certain that she will never look at that filing cabinet the same way ever again.
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The love they share is simple and clean. They laugh, content with life and each other. They rarely argue and when they do, it's usually about his daughter. She has few regrets in life, save one but she swallows it down deep.
When he showed up on her doorstep in Virginia, she didn't think twice about letting him in her front door. She still has his name etched on a piece of her heart. He lives in Arlington part time, a freshman representative of the 49th district of California. She thinks it is interesting what daddy's money will make go away. He asks her to dinner and she says yes. They get married twelve weeks later.
He finds her sitting on the edge of the tub, head in her hands, sobbing. He notices the six tests arrayed in front of her all displaying a plus sign. He doesn't question the tears. He understands, knows why, feels it a little too. Gathering her in his arms he carries her to their bed. He cradles her in his lap, gently pushes the hair away from her face, coos "Don't worry baby. Everything will turn out all right." in her ear and kisses the tears from her cheeks.
They are expecting his parents for dinner. She steps onto the balcony for some fresh air and steel her nerves. They hate her and the feeling is mutual. She overheard their conversation when he told them they were getting married. Her heart filled with pride when he ended the argument with a snarky. "Well dad, you know how hard it is to stay away from a Mars woman."
She remembers his mother once telling her that she was comforted that Lilly wasn't hers. She feels a bit of angry Veronica creep into her consciousness. Revenge is what she used to do best. A pleased smile spreads across her face and she bounces back into her room. She can't wait to see the look on Celeste's face.
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She hates how he strips everything bare, leaving nothing to hide behind. She is scared that he knows exactly where and how deep to cut to break her. She wants to curl inward, leaving the spiny shell to defend herself, but he knows her weak spots, knows exactly how to get in. She loves him wholly, completely, his name is carved upon her soul. She has never been able to truly escape him, to chase him from her heart. But now she feels must. She's tired of the push- pull, can no longer take the psychological toll of their twisted mind game bullshit anymore. She wants to, needs to change.
She finds a red thong under his passenger seat. He didn't utter a word, just waited for her to finish her accusations and angrily drove off. She packed her bags the next morning and went home to the one man she knows will never betray her. Keith doesn't say a thing to her just stares pointedly at the suitcases. "For good this time, daddy." He unquestioningly wraps his arms around her and lets his little girl grieve. Two weeks later he politely suggests she try to get out of the house, declaring her bathrobe an official health hazard.
Sitting on the beach with Backup, she doesn't understand how their relationship got in this vicious cycle in the first place. She briefly wonders if they really are being haunted by Lilly and she's getting off by torturing her friends. "You win Lilly, he's all yours again." She yells at the sky, she could almost hear her tinkling laughter at besting Veronica even after death. She stares at the ocean wishing the tide would come and swallow her whole.
Wallace and Mac convince her to go to Java the Hut. They still love her, but have different lives now, different responsibilities. They beg off after her third Irish coffee and sixth refusal to do something 'fun' this weekend. "Veronica, just one more thing…" Wallace looks nervously at Mac who crosses her arms and subtly nods towards the booth they had just exited. He rolls his eyes and turns back to his friend and in a serious tone he tells her. "Someday somebody's gonna ask you a question you should just say yes to…" She watches her friends leave quibbling about something. She's mildly amused at their attempt to cheer her up. "It would have been better if you sang it." She calls after him. He turns around and gives her a little wave. Alone again, she lays her head down on the table, listening to the bad karaoke and debating on that fourth Irish Coffee.
She feels the table jostle and instinctively knows it's him. She can see the little black box out of the corner of her eye, hear the confidence, steadiness in his voice. "Maybe tonight, I've got a question for you."
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He watches her miserably from the darkness, just three small steps from the bed where she lay. He knows she must be in pain upon seeing her tiny fists, twisted and curled in the sheets, white from the pressure. He is fairly sure she no longer notices the physical hurts. He didn't think that she has any tears left in her but the pillow beneath is soaked. Each tiny hiccupping sob leaves another slash across the heart he wasn't sure he still had.
It's hot and he desperately wants to get out of this jacket and tie he's worn only once before. It brings back only more painful memories. He owes her but he hates feeling this lost and alone…He wants to run away, go back to his simple life and forget he ever knew these people. Pushing off of the wall, he starts towards his own room across the hall, when a muffled agonizing wail/scream stops him in his tracks. Unable to no longer contain his own bone crushing despair, he turns and slides onto the bed next to her.
He's hurt when she immediately shies away from him. "I totally got left too." He simply says and gathers her yielding form in his arms. They cling to each other desperately for fear of drowning. When she feels the first tear drop onto her forehead, she can't hold back anymore, stammers out. "I..I'm pregnant."
He smiles to himself in the dark, as thoughts of revenge formulate in his mind. He has something to hold on to now. He will do this one last thing for his best friend. Tilting his head up towards the heavens, he thinks to himself. "Do svidaniya, dude."
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Bonus non romantic cross-over drabble? Ficlet? (I can't keep the definition straight.) that I might turn into a new story…maybe. Also, I fiddled a little with the two shows timelines by moving them closer together.
She first notices her in group. The girl is roughly the same age, maybe a little older. She stares at her hands the whole time, seems completely helpless, lost. She studies the girl, there is something vaguely reminiscent of Lilly in her. Lilly, a fresh course of pain shoots through her conscience. Listening to the others talk about their brushes with their own constructed realities helps her feel less alone and more in tune with the real world. She notices the girl with the stringy hair and vacant look doesn't say a word.
She decides at that moment to help this girl. "Like you couldn't with Lilly." her mind taunts. Determined, she moves a seat closer to her during each group session. She does her best to engage her in conversation and it takes five tries before she responds. Over the course of the next two weeks, she slowly draws the girl out of her shell.
One morning, they meet in the common room after individual session and play a couple rounds of 'when I get out of here.' Her friend quietly confides in her, "I think I saw something…you know pre loony bin…they keep asking me what I know…to be honest the last real thing I remember is getting ready for my freshman prom like five years ago. I'm scared they are going to keep me here because of it." She lets out an exhausted sigh. "So Veronica Mars, what brought you here?"
"Karma." Veronica deadpans, receiving an elbow in the ribs for her trouble. "Nope, just garden variety rape and murder." Her mind floats off into the past. "I remember leaving a pep squad car wash with my best friend." She doesn't want to talk about the memory flashes of being locked in a box, the sound of Lilly's agonizing screams, a man telling her she's the icing on the cake, of being violated. "Apparently my brain has a little trouble coping with what happened, hence my delusions of grandeur."
Her friend looks at her expectantly. "Super sleuth girl detective." She says, blushing.
"Like Velma?" her friend snorts.
"Why does everyone say that? If anything I'm Daphne!" Veronica cries. "I was damn good at it too. Let's hear your story." She cocks her eyebrow and smirks at the other girl.
The girl swallows hard and stares off into space. "I was a…Vampire Slayer."