TITLE: Missed the Bus
AUTHOR: arbailey
WORD COUNT: 2,487
RATING: PG-13 for language (possible R later)
SUMMARY: Everybody in Neptune has secrets... But not from Veronica, who is knee deep in intrigue trying to fix everyone else's problems. Busy as she is, she almost doesn't have time to think about a certain Tall, Dark, and Juvenilely-Delinquent. Almost. Veronica is running to stand still, and it looks like she may have just Missed the Bus.
SPOILERS: All of season one. Makes an ungodly mess of the timeline for season two.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any rights to Veronica Mars, and this story is written as a tribute only. All borrowed dialogue remains the sole creative property of the talented writing staff.
"Missed the Bus": an American idiom meaning either
1. to have missed or lost some opportunity or
2. to have failed to understand something.
CHAPTER 4 - The Meeting
The door of the office has been blockaded and the out-of-order sign posted, and Veronica's MO is so well-known that Meg feels sure that this only heightens everyone's awareness of the secret meetings going on behind the door. Still, Veronica's never been disturbed, and maybe even the janitors are too afraid of the tiny blonde dynamo to intrude on her territory.
Veronica is looking thoughtful as she listens to a sobbing Meg describe the torment her little sister has been put through by the Mannings. A frown creasing her forehead, Veronica lets out a short sigh, "I think I know somebody who can help us establish a history of abuse for Grace."
After Lamb laughed her out of the sheriff's office that morning, Veronica had given up on any plans to punish her rapist through official channels. But giving up on punishing the asshole entirely- that wasn't in the cards. So she did precisely what Lamb should have done and presented herself to the emergency room of the local hospital. Her hands clasped in front of her she walked slowly up to the counter. Her smile, her posture, even her hand gestures appeared hesitant and apologetic. "Hello. I need to have a rape kit done."
Looking up from her paperwork, the admitting nurse took in Veronica's smudged make-up and general disarray. God, she looked so young! The nurse's head swiveled as she looked around for a deputy or guardian figure and came up empty-handed. It was early Saturday morning and the ER was relatively empty, so she moved Veronica into an exam room immediately and called for the female attending.
Veronica sat on the examining table as she filled out her paper work. She left her insurance information blank and provided only a burner cell phone contact. She was never going to tell her father what happened to her. It would only break him, and she couldn't afford to lose him. Certainly not now.
The female attending came in smiling gently and introducing herself, but Veronica didn't catch her name and didn't feel any particular desire to draw out their interaction by asking for it again. The doctor handed over a gown as she stated, "We're going to need to collect your clothes for hair and fibers. If you could just slip this on, we'll begin the exam."
Lying there in her backless gown, her legs in cold metal stirrups, Veronica feels more exposed and ashamed than she ever has before. This is worse, even, than waking up without her underwear. But she refuses to let herself cry. This is a fact-finding mission. This is research.
The doctor seals up all the necessary swabs into their attendant sterile Ziploc bags and draws three vials of blood when she finally hands Veronica a small cup. "I'm giving you a dose of Levonorgestrel to prevent pregnancy. In a couple of days we'll have the results of your blood work. Well, you're done, Veronica. You can have that shower now."
The first good news she'd heard all day. And, finally, coming to the hospital felt like a genuinely good idea, instead of just the logically correct decision. Because the hot water in the cramped little apartment she and her father had been forced into would have run out within seconds, and she managed to waste forty-five minutes of almost scalding municipal water at the hospital.
When she finally left the steamy confines of the shower, there was a pile of donated clothing sitting on a chair just outside the door. Veronica looked with distaste at the pink sweatshirt with puff paint unicorn and lime green spandex bicycle shorts, obviously meant for a much younger girl, but she pulled them on anyway since there was nothing else. She re-entered the exam room to see that the blandly kind attending physician had called in a colleague.
"Veronica, this is Dr. Walters. She's a psychologist and the head of our youth crisis center." Veronica had less than no desire to spend another moment in the hospital, so she put on her most pleasant smile, held out her hand, and said, "It's very nice to meet you." And then she turned tail and strode purposefully out of the hospital.
And that was the first time she met Dr. Walters.
Two days later, she got a call from the hospital letting her know the results for her blood work was in. And when she arrived for her appointment, there was Dr. Walters sitting primly in a second chair. Blandly Kind Blonde Doctor, now identified by the name plate on the door as Dr. Heron, smiled nervously as she glanced between Veronica and the psychologist.
"Ms. Mars. Thanks so much for coming in. Well, there are a couple of things you need to know. We found traces of GHB in your blood. You were drugged." That much she had pretty much assumed. Dr. Heron shifted uncomfortably before continuing, "Your samples will be sent to the state lab, but I must warn you that without an active case number, it is likely your sample will be pushed to the back of the queue. It may take some time to get results. It's too early for blood tests to indicate if you were exposed to any sexually transmitted diseases. You'll need to come back in a few days so we can run a full STD panel." Dr. Heron quailed slightly at the furious tears that brimmed in Veronica's eyes before she determinedly blinked them away. "I'll just go set up an appointment for later in the week. I think it would be beneficial if you would talk to Dr. Walters." Heron jumped up and whisked out the door at speed.
Veronica twisted in her chair to face Dr. Walters and smiled slightly sourly at the psychologist who sat across the room from her. "This really isn't necessary," Veronica said in a tone of voice far more confident and caustic than she felt. It was a new voice she'd been practicing in the hope that she'd be able to remake herself by the time the new year called her back to the den of iniquity that was Neptune High. "I'm fine. Learned a valuable lesson about watching my drink and not taunting the animals."
Dr. Walters nodded encouragingly and paused before asking, "So what's the plan?"
Veronica blinked blankly at Dr. Walters, who continued on, "I mean, you're a woman who came in here by herself and requested her own rape kit. I have to imagine there is more to this than idle curiosity… And why, if you don't mind me asking, did you come in here alone?"
Veronica's eyes narrowed to mere slits as she spit out, "The local sheriff is not my biggest fan, and the feeling is entirely reciprocated. I have absolutely no memory of the night, so even if local law enforcement were inclined to help a lowly 05er who got knocked around at an 09er party there wouldn't be much to go on. But," she paused with an acid grin, "I'm uniquely committed to solving this case. This is all groundwork."
Dr. Walters nodded, a terse smile on her face. "We have had similar reports of problems with local cops covering up 09er malfeasance. God knows how many sexual assaults and other crimes are going entirely unreported in such a hostile climate," Walters shook herself, her angry brow smoothing as she distanced herself from what was obviously a hot button issue for her. "And what's the end game?"
Veronica, folded her arms over her chest, unsure for the first time. "Make him pay. Somehow. Those details are still to be determined."
Walters paused as she considered Veronica's words, "And will that fix things?"
Veronica snorted indelicately, "It'll be a damn good start."
Walters steepled her fingers and threw a quick smile to the small blonde before her, "Well, seems like you've set a course of action, so I'll just say these three things: You should tell a trusted authority figure what happened…" Veronica opened her mouth in protest but Walters held up a shushing finger and continued, "You should hold off on making any big decisions or changes, and- since I don't think you're going to do either of these first two things- you should know that I'm available to you any time, day or night." Walters scribbled a cell number on her business card and handed it to Veronica.
Veronica took the card just as Dr. Heron walked in with a print-out detailing her appointment for later in the week. She took the paperwork, doffed an imaginary cap, and sped out of the exam room. Four days later she returned for her STD screening, and two days after that learned she'd been exposed to Chlamydia.
She wished she could steal into of the hospital shower again, maybe scrape the top layer of skin off. Instead she just quietly filled her prescription at the hospital pharmacy and went home. It was a clue, a new clue, another piece. It was a good thing, even, a way to narrow her suspect pool. She couldn't allow herself to think otherwise.
She saw Dr. Walters only once more, when she dropped in at the youth crisis center and donated the cast-offs of her Old Veronica wardrobe to better suit the needs of petite assault victims.
"I like the hair, Veronica," Walters said, approvingly, "It suits you." The doctor hesitated for just a second before giving her a small smile, "Remember, day or night."
Veronica pulls the card out her wallet, dog-eared from its frequent removals and replacements. Veronica could never bring herself to call the number- it felt too much like capitulation- but she used to stare at the card on the rough days when she'd already scrubbed clean every desk drawer she had access to. She keys the number into her phone, and waits, "Hello, can I speak to Dr. Walters? This is Veronica Mars…"
"You have to go to the authorities with this, Veronica," Dr. Walters looks apologetic as she glances over the three miserable young people sitting in one of the crisis center's conference rooms. "Emotional abuse is notoriously hard to prove, and there needs to be a thorough examination of the living situation. Nobody is in favor of removing children from the home."
Meg seems to shrink even further within herself, and Veronica's jaw sets. "The Mannings are 09ers. You know there's no point going to cops with this." Dr. Walter's closes her eyes and massages her temples as a headache sets in.
"I don't know what you want me to do, Veronica. I can't even meet with Grace, find out her mental state, or get her examined for any signs of abuse without a guardian's permission if we don't have a court order." Dr. Walters looks back and forth between the teenagers, "Meg, your parents are people of a deep and profound faith, and they have a right to raise their daughter in that faith, including elements that seem harsh and unforgiving."
Duncan gets an angry look on his face, and opens his mouth, but Dr. Walters beats him to the punch. "I'm not saying it's not abuse, I'm just saying that the courts are loathe to get into debates about what constitutes appropriate discipline, especially when it comes to non-physical punishments, and even more especially when those disciplines are faith-based."
"So there's nothing we can do?" Meg asks flatly.
"File a formal complaint with Child Protective Services, be there for your sister, that's all you can do now," Dr. Walters says quietly.
Veronica, oddly quiet up to this point, says, "So we could have you examine Grace if we had permission from a guardian?"
Dr. Walters frowns as she answers, "Yes, but you gave me the impression the Mannings wouldn't be interested in giving permission. And you can't trick them into giving consent either. Any suggestion of fraud or duplicity in obtaining the authorization for the exam would make my testimony absolutely worthless."
"But if we had permission, you'd be willing to examine her, to give a fair and honest diagnosis of any abuse she might be suffering?" Veronica asks, her gaze intense.
Dr. Walters sighs, hopelessly aware that she is not getting through to Veronica. "Yes. You get permission, LEGALLY, from a guardian, and I will give you my honest opinion about Grace's mental and physical state."
"Thanks Dr. Walters, I'll be in touch," says Veronica as she hikes her messenger bag up over her shoulder.
Dr. Walters huffs a defeated little laugh, "Of that I have no doubt, Veronica."
Veronica heads out the door, following a demoralized Meg and Duncan as they stalk slowly out of the crisis center into the too-white corridors of the hospital.
"Thanks for trying, Veronica," Duncan sighs.
Veronica scoffs impatiently, "You give up too easily, Duncan. We'll figure something out. In fact…." Veronica suddenly stops in her tracks. "Meg, you told your parents you quit cheerleading over a slutty routine, right?"
"Yeah…" Meg replies, confused.
"Well, what made you suddenly change your mind about cheerleading? Could you have, for instance, suddenly become acquainted with a faith-based afterschool group who showed you the danger of such tawdry, libidinous pursuits?"
Meg's spine straightens as she considers Veronica's idea, "Well that does sound like me…" Duncan looks back and forth between the two blondes, utterly lost.
"You know," continues Veronica, "Grace might benefit from a program like that too. Especially with the bad example Lizzie has been setting, lately."
Meg's eyes light up with the first genuine hope she's had in months. "You might be right. I'll have to let my parents know about how helpful this group has been."
Duncan glances back and forth at the two girls like they're crazy. "What are you two talking about?!"
Veronica rolls her eyes impatiently, "If we can get Grace enrolled as part of our 'Afterschool program', we can get her away from the house. And even better, the Mannings will have to sign a waiver giving the group leader in loco parentis rights in case there are any emergencies."
"Now we just need a name for our group," continues Veronica rubbing her hands together like a cartoon villain. Meg stops for a moment before saying,
"What about "The Harvest of Righteousness"? Hebrew 12. My dad's favorite. 'No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.'"
Veronica nods solemnly, "Well that's almost painfully perfect." Her expression brightens as she says, "I'll get Mac to do us up a website. Cliff will help me draw up the waiver. This thing has to be a real program, in the legal sense, if we want to be able to bring her in for Dr. Walters to examine."
Veronica is lost in her own reverie as she plans out the new afterschool program and doesn't notice as Duncan and Meg wander away, their heads bowed together, towards the door. Meg stops short and urges Duncan out the door before turning. Veronica pauses when she hears Meg call out to her.
Meg is hesitant and makes two false starts before she finally manages to say, "I want to thank you for what you're doing for me and my family. I know things have been bad between us. I want you to know that I'm working on that. It's not your fault that Duncan dumped me, but I'm still going to resent you awhile. I love Duncan. He's stupid and he's hurt me, but in the end I love him and I know he loves me. We just fit into the broken place in each other. I'm sorry I can't explain it any better." Meg wrings her hands and gives Veronica a half-smile.
"I'm happy for you guys, really, cards on the table," Veronica says, returning the smile. "I know I wasn't exactly Mary Sunshine when you guys got together last year, but I never wanted him to break up with you. I think we just… Missed the people we were together. Before. Anyway, I'm sorry if our little failed trip down memory lane hurt you. It was doomed from the start," Veronica spills out in a hurried, embarrassed laugh. "You're still one of the only decent people in this town, even if you hate me now."
Meg shakes her head, "Hate is too strong a word. Tentative gal pals?"
"Deal," Veronica smiles as they shake on it.
Meg walks quickly towards the sliding glass doors and meets Duncan just outside as he throws an arm around her waist. Veronica watches them, longingly. They're not as happy as they are pretending, but at least they've got someone to hold on to. Veronica sets her shoulders, stern with herself over her sudden melancholy. She takes out her cell and pulls Cliff up out of her contacts. "Cliff, baby, opportunity of a lifetime," she says in her best used car salesman voice, "you get to do me a favor!"
A/N: So ridiculously excited about the movie! I've pitched in my 50 bucks, and I urge all of y'all to contribute if you can. Nothing is certain but death and taxes, but I'm pinning some hopes on this star anyway! And how's that for mixing my metaphors? One problem though: I had planned my own answer to what happened after the fight in the cafeteria, and now I feel like I need to get it out before the movie comes in and redefines canon! Anyway, I'll be working on that as well, so keep an eye out for the first of the series "Just Business: Start-up Costs".
And here is your first example of my naked wish-fulfillment. I always wished Veronica would have gone to the hospital after her rape even without the support of the sheriff's office. I totally understand why she didn't, and even gave lip service to the likely fact that without someone actively pursuing the case the samples might NEVER be tested, but STILL... Anyway, let me know what you thought! Reviews are the lifeblood of the fanfic experience!