Faded, a veronica mars fanfic

Title: Faded

Characters: Cassidy, Dick, Kendall, Mr & Mrs Casablancas.

Word count: 2,387

Rating: PG-13 (to be safe)

Disclaimer: I do not own Veronica Mars; nor do I own the song. It's Faded, by Kate DeAraugo, if you really wanted to know.

Summary: They had let him slip between the cracks.

You never take,
Take the time to really look.
Look at the one, the one I really am.
You try to fit, to fit me in a perfect box,
You let me slip between the cracks.

It's because of the fact that he's fooled by the father that he sees in public.

Not that his father isn't nice, or anything. Because, he is. Nice, that is. When he's able to get time off work – hardly ever, but it does happen, once in a while – he'll wander down to the local park and watch Cassidy play baseball. It's not something that Cassidy excels at, but he comes down and cheers on his son, just like any other father. And once, he convinced Dick to teach Cassidy how to surf. Of course, Cassidy knows that Dick was bribed into doing it, and the memories of the experience are kind of painful, it involved a trip to the hospital), but it's the thought that counts, right? And every time that Cassidy arrives home with straight As on his report card, his father praises him, and takes the whole family out to dinner. It's just that sometimes his father's a little preoccupied with work, and other... things. But he goes to his father, anyway. Just to ask him a question. A quick question.

His father looks kind of disheveled, but he usually does. He also looks kind of... troubled, which is new, because his father's usually cool, calm – even when things aren't looking too great for him.

"Dad?" Cassidy asked, his voice quiet. He leant against the door to the study, waiting patiently for his father to see him. He didn't.

"Dad?" he repeated, louder this time. His father broke his gaze away from the pile of pristine white sheets that covered the large, highly polished oak desk. Suddenly, Cassidy couldn't help but feel like his father was playing Mike Brady to his Greg, and he kind of liked the feel of it.

Comparing real life to something from TV. Don't you know that everything gets solved in half an hour? A little voice couldn't help but scold.

"What is it, son?" his father asked in a tired voice. Cassidy couldn't help but feel sorry for him. "Cassidy!" his father barked, when he got no reply. "What is it?"

"I was just wondered if..." the rest of his sentence was drowned out by the ringing of the phone. His father glanced at him, and then at the phone. He chose the phone.

Cassidy waited until he got to his bedroom before he cried. His father would always insist that men didn't cry. He wiped away the last of his tears, and wondered what he was if he wasn't a man. A mouse, probably.

It's because his brother is seen as something of a hero.

Not that he considers his brother to be a hero, because of the world was about to detonate, the only person that Dick would save is himself – of course, there would be no way to avoid the explosion, unless he figured out how to survive in space for the rest of his life. Dick isn't all that great at doing the whole big brother thing. Sure, sometimes when his not surrounded by his posse, he'll sit down and play a game or two on the PlayStation with him. Or they'll sit around and watch cartoons all afternoon together, which finishes in a lively debate over which episode of The Simpsons is better – one that shows Sideshow Bob evil, and trying to kill Bart (let's face it – despite his antics, that kid can get a little annoying sometimes), or that one episode where Sideshow Bob is good, and teams up with Bart and Lisa to prove that his brother is out to kill the whole town. And once, when Cassidy was five, he even took the time to teach him how to swim. Sure, the memory was painful – he had nearly drowned, because Dick's never been too great at teaching people things – but it was the thought that counts, right? And when he gets straight As on his report card, the first person to congratulate him on his effort at Dick – he's not a half bad brother, even though he does insist that he's not related to Cassidy. And the fact that he calls him "Beaver," despite him telling Dick several times that his name isn't Beaver, it's Cassidy.

His brother looks like he's having fun, but he always does. But he also looks... nervous, which is something new. His brother always looks cool, calm – even if he has no idea what he's doing.

"Dick?" Cassidy asks, his voice quiet. He leant against the stair banister, waiting patiently for his brother to see him. He didn't.

"Dick?" he repeated, louder this time. His brother broke his gaze away from the TV screen, where he was mutilating... something. Something that Cassidy couldn't identify. It may have been some kind of monster, but he wasn't too sure. Suddenly, Cassidy couldn't help but feel that Dick was playing Greg Brady to his Bobby, and he kind of liked the feel of it.

Comparing real life to TV? Don't you know that everything gets solved in half an hour? A little voice in his head asked. Cassidy couldn't help but feel like he'd been through this before.

"What is it, Beav?" he asked, a cross between a smirk and brotherly grin on his face. Cassidy couldn't help but feel like he trusted him. For once. "Hel-lo, Earth to Beaver!" Cassidy got pulled back into reality.

"I was just wondering if..." his voice was drowned out by the doorbell ringing. Dick leaned over and switched the PlayStation off, not bothering to take out his game. Switching off the TV, he grinned at Cassidy, slightly apologetic, slightly amused.

"That'll be Logan and Duncan," he informed his brother. "You'll have to talk to Dad, or some other person about the whole homework thing. I'm out, Beav. Tell Dad I won't be home for dinner, yeah? I'll see you... when-ev-er." With that, he walked out, slamming the front door behind him – loudly.

Cassidy sank down on the step behind him, staring at the black TV screen that only moments ago had been filled with life and colour. He couldn't help but wonder if he was merely a shadow, something that comes and goes as necessary. Something that comes and goes as the conditions change.

III

It's because his mother was the only person who bothered to tell him that she loved him.

Not that he believes that she means it, because it's his mother, and the only person she's capable of loving is herself. But he still can't help but feel a little happy whenever she finishes their conversations with "I love you, sweetie." But, because his mother has never been the nurturing type, he can't help but forgiving her. She tries her best, and that's what is important. Even if it means using the assistance of alcohol to gather up her courage before every phone conversation. Even if it means that she follows a script every time she talks to him, asking the same questions with the answers already implanted in her mind. And, okay, so maybe all the memories he has of her involves her showing him off to her friends like he was son prize she won, or bragging to her friends about him getting a certificate of merit at age five, or palming him off to some nanny whose name he could never remember. But she tried her best, didn't she? Not everybody could be perfect. Besides, she always sends presents to make up for not being there. Okay, so maybe chocolates from France and wooden face masks from Bali can't make up for fourteen years of absence, but it's the thought that counts, right?

And whenever he gets straight As on his report card, she always sends him $200 and something that she thinks that he'll want, but will most likely toss it out later.

His mother sounds like she's interested in what he's talking about, but she always does. But she also sounds... anxious, which is something new. His mother is always cool, calm – she's the perfect actress, and has every single role imaginable down pat.

"Mom?" Cassidy asks, his voice quiet. He leant against the kitchen bench, waiting patiently for his mother to stop talking and listen to him. She didn't.

"Mom?" he repeated, louder this time. His mother broke off, mid-sentence. He heard the sounds of somebody cooking in the background, and couldn't help but wonder if she was making dinner for his step-father and half-brothers and half-sister, playing the role of perfect mother. He couldn't help but imagine her doing something like that for them if she had bothered to stay around. Suddenly, Cassidy couldn't help but feel that his mother was playing Carol Brady to his Greg, and he kind of liked the feel to it.

Comparing real life to TV? Don't you know that everything gets solved in half an hour? A little voice in his head asked. Cassidy couldn't help but feel like he'd been through this more than once before.

"Yes, sweetie? What is it?" she asked, her voice taking on a rather maternal kind of feel, gentle, caring... involved. Cassidy couldn't help but feel that if she hadn't had a new family to look after, that she would be standing here, in the kitchen, hugging him, concerned about what's happening in his life. He couldn't help but feel like he loved her.

"I was just wondering if..." his voice was drowned out by an argument taking place in the background, and was quickly brought back into reality. No, his mother wouldn't be coming back, even if she didn't have a new husband and half-brats for children. She'd made that decision, fourteen years ago, the moment she abandoned them.

"I'm sorry sweetie, there's something that I have to take care of. Say hello to your father for me, and tell Dick that I want him to call me!" she said rather quickly, before hanging up the phone. Cassidy let the phone clatter onto the smooth, marble surface behind him, chewing his lip and staring off into space.

"Yeah. Don't worry. I'll tell him," he told the empty room. And he couldn't help but feel that his mother used him as a courier, and thought of him as an object in her vast collection, something that she could pull out and brag about to her friends, before replacing him on a shelf amongst a number of nameless objects.

It's because she believed that she was the only person in the world that mattered.

Not that she didn't make an effort to get to know him, of course. Because an actress always researches her role. In order to fit in with the family, she learnt little bits of information about Cassidy. Like how he hated to be called Beaver, and he resented his brother because of it. And how his favourite season was winter, and his favourite colour was green. How he had no real passion for surfing, but simply did it because of the fact that it wasn't baseball. And once, she offered to go to the movies with him. Which he agreed, because she was his stepmother. He knows that it was all for show, to pull his father deeper into her web of lies. But it was nice of her all the same – it's the thought that counts, right? And when Cassidy arrived home with a report card with straight As, she gave him a little smile, a pat on the back and handed him $5. For his effort. For promising her he wouldn't tell his father about what she'd been up to, more like. It's just that Kendall had spent all her life being ignored, and now she was treating others how she had been treated.

His stepmother looks perfect, but then again, she usually does. She also looks kind of... ruffled, which is new, because his stepmother's usually cool, calm – which is why she's gotten so far solely on her good looks. Her manipulative nature might have something to do with it, however.

"Kendall?"Cassidy asked, his voice quiet. He leant against the soft, brown leather couch, waiting patiently for his stepmother to see him. She didn't.

"Kendall?" he repeated, louder this time. She reluctantly tears her gaze away from the mirror in the hall, and plasters a fake smile on her face. She's all ready to go to a work party with his father. Suddenly, Cassidy couldn't help but be pulled into the facade. He felt like she was playing Alice to his Greg, and he kind of liked the feel of it. Although, she plays a very different Alice to the original. For one, she doesn't like doing any work.

"What is it, Cassidy?" she asks. Her voice is impatient, taut, clipped. Cassidy can't help but wonder what strife she's in now. "Cassidy!" she screeches, when there's no reply. "What is it?"

"I just wondered if..." the rest of the sentence is drowned out by his father's commands, instructing her it's time to go. Kendall glances at him, before heading towards the door.

"Maybe talk to Dick about it," she suggests. Giving advice is rarely something she does. She has more more important things to worry about – like her appearance.

Cassidy watches them leave, and wonders if it's possible to be invisible – like Harry Potter with the aid of his Invisibility Cloak, or Sue Storm with her powers. Only unlike them, he doesn't get a choice.

It's because of what he did to him.

Woody Goodman had promised him that it was completely normal, that everybody did it. He had lied. He had convinced Cassidy not to tell anybody, because nobody would listen to him, nobody would believe him. Unfortunately for Cassidy, that time – he spoke the truth. Nobody had listened to him, when he had pleaded for help.