A/N: My uploading trend continues! Thank you to everyone who has continued to stick with this story, and to all the readers who just discovered it. And, as always, thank you so much to my wonderful, and patient beta, cainc3. Happy April Fool's Day! (Wouldn't it have been funny if this upload was blank?! LOL!) Just kidding, that would've been cruel. (But funny). Anyway, enjoy! Oh, and this chapter skips ahead a few months, I also tagged it, but just in case you miss that. (*cough lateVMlover cough*) Here's the reading material I promised you Bondopoulos!

Obligatory disclaimer-Nope, I still don't own anything in the Veronica Mars 'verse! Darn it!

Chapter 24—The Neptune Disease

Flash forward a few months…September 22, 2009

Fall had come to Neptune, but it was really more of a calendar related distinction than weather driven.

School had been in session three weeks and Mac was slowly easing into it. Of course, slow was the best way to describe her post-coma life these days anyway. At least, in her mind, the recovery phase was crawling, but the doctors told a different tale.

Easy for them to say, they were using scans as evidence, her take was more empiric in nature.

Her body was a road map of bruises due to the newly-acquired habit of tripping over her feet and bumping into objects that she'd sworn weren't there a nanosecond before. Her biggest trump card, however, was the new pair of glasses she was sporting, yet another souvenir from the accident.

The doctors' were frustratingly vague on the period of time she'd have to wear those— a couple to several months—but they were specially fitted with prism lenses designed to combat the blurry and double vision common post-head injury.

She was making the best of her new fashion accessory though; the frames were a bright turquoise blue and could probably be seen all the way from Mars. They were doing their job, too, so that was another plus. They also allowed her to drive, which was a much needed form of independence. Evidently, seeing double of everything was a hindrance to safe driving. Who knew?! She could also read better with them, which of course helped her in her return to academia.

Mac removed her black backpack and eased herself down on the ground beneath a big sycamore tree that took residence in the middle of the Quad. She supposed it could be called her Hearst College thinking tree. That flash, of course, brought forth thoughts of Dick.

As she had slowly started getting better, her visits from Dick started tapering off in direct proportion.

It was…puzzling.

She couldn't figure out that shift, but she didn't have too much time to ponder it, with her days largely filled up with doctor appointments, Physical and Occupational therapies, and approximately 53,001 scans, conservative estimate. Now, fortunately, there was school to focus on, it gave her a much needed sense of normalcy.

Of course the word normal was all relative, she'd always had a tenuous relationship with that concept. It was the curse of being a Neptune native. Fortunately, the accident happened in summer so most of her classmates were unaware of how she spent the early days of vacation—in coma land. It wasn't something she felt necessary to lead with during all those summer catch up conversations.

Mac had just fished out her Econ textbook and was flipping to the third chapter when the ping of an incoming text fractured her attention. She reached into the backpack once more to retrieve her phone from the detritus littering the bag which was already accumulating handouts, syllabi and other classroom souvenirs.

As she was scrolling through the screens to access the text, the idle thought that perhaps it was Dick swam through her mind. She dismissed that possibility quickly, but didn't want to commit to labeling it wishful thinking.

She was utterly wrong in her guess. It was not Dick. She was shocked at the name on the screen but really she shouldn't have been. Her accident was the portal that ushered the Sinclair's into her life.

Ellen: Just thinking of you, and hoping you are doing okay.

As far as she could tell it was just Ellen that was swimming around her recovery, fishing for updates, she didn't think the junior Sinclairs were read into the situation yet. She hadn't got any death threats from Madison, so that evidence seemed to support her theory, she was certain that toxic bitch would've designed a reality that held Mac firmly responsible for everything that had happened that fateful December day in 1988, and maybe Global Warming, too.

It made sense, Ellen was the one that gave her life originally, and she'd have a vested interest in her health and well-being, too. It was stressing her mom out though. The anti-smoking campaign they'd waged in the Mackenzie house wasn't having much success.

It shouldn't have been that way though, the Sinclairs had "anonymously" paid all hospital-related bills through their Caring Hearts charity, but instead of lessening her mom's burden, it apparently tripled them. It wasn't intel she was privy to first hand, but with her hacker chops and whispered words trickling in from fights when everyone thought she was asleep, it wasn't hard to piece together.

Of course, in typical Natalie Franklin Mackenzie spirit she was outwardly peppy while covering her internal struggles. Everything's fine, hon, you just worry about getting better, was a familiar refrain in the Mackenzie household. Mac had finally reached the point where she quit asking what was wrong.

Ellen had known for years that Mac had figured out she was a bio Sinclair, so she wasn't violating any family secret by reaching out to her recovering 'other daughter.' That point had been driven home after she and Veronica had crashed the Madison Sweet 16 birthday party her original junior year at Neptune High, when she had dropped by the Sinclair casa the next day to pick up the purse she had 'accidentally on purpose' left the night before. Mac had taken one glance at Ellen and it was like looking into a mirror, a future-vision mirror maybe, but a mirror nonetheless. The subtext had filled the air during the five minute drop by. They both knew who the other one was, and they both knew the other one knew.

The next day, Mac was getting ready to leave for yet another biannual tortuous camping trip when she saw Ellen parked in a minivan down the block just watching her. Mac had kept that memory under lock and key, a private moment even Veronica never knew about.

She took a deep breath and responded to the text.

Me: I'm fine. Just enjoying a break between classes.

It felt disloyal to her mom even replying, but it felt worse to not answer.

The check in texts came in usually during school hours, or on weekend nights, like her bio mom was having an affair with her 'other' daughter, more proof that she hadn't sat Madison and Lauren down yet. It was probably inevitable though, and she honestly wasn't sure what to think about that. It would be wonderful to have a legit claim to Lauren, but there would be so much fallout and collateral damage left in its wake.

Mac looked down at the screen of her cell once more upon hearing the answering ping.

Ellen: Good. Take care, have a great day.

Me: Thanks. You, too.

Sneaking texts with the woman who birthed her, but didn't raise her, yes, she was definitely another victim of the Neptune Disease, and there wasn't a vaccine for that!

Mac put the phone back in her bag, and forced herself to switch gears back to the Econ book still on her lap. It was a hard shift though, but econ didn't give two shits about her sepia tinged life these days. They were studying monopolies vs. oligopolies, and she tried to concentrate on case studies. It was dry stuff and a slow go.

She'd probably only been reading for ten minutes when she felt the pressure building, and recognized the beginnings of a headache trying to break. She was intimately familiar with the signs these days.

Mac set the book down on the ground beside her, and went through her list of tricks to keep headaches at bay. She pinched the pressure point in the web of her right hand between the thumb and pointer finger, and started massaging it. It didn't always work, but it had been known to lessen the severity at least.

Mac leaned her head back against the tree, eyes shut. She could feel the pain that was trying to progress forward receding a little bit. She just had to remember to take frequent breaks while studying. It was all part of her new normal. She hated that phrase! What was wrong with the old normal?

"Mac?"

At the sound of her name, Mac put an end to the mini-pity party she was playing hostess to and opened her eyes. Dick! Of course! She'd probably summoned him with her earlier thought train.

He was just standing there looking at her, a strand of his blond hair flopped over one of his eyes. Someone skipped the start of the school year obligatory haircut apparently.

Mac felt on display.

"Hi Dick," Mac replied, and gestured to the swath of ground beside her.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, I just…I didn't know if you were back to school or not." Dick finally responded. He shook his head, like he was clearing away cobwebs, and then flopped down, shifting slightly so he was facing her.

"You know, they have this great invention called a phone. You call, I answer, and we talk. Pretty nifty! It's even portable these days." Her voice was laced with an undertone of venom she hadn't been aware she'd been carrying with her until it spewed forth.

"Thanks for the instructions; I always wondered how those magic boxes worked." Dick's tone matched her snark.

"Long time, no hear."

"Yeah, I guess. Look, I was actually on my way to class…Yes, I do that," Dick said. He must have seen a look of disbelief on Mac's face that she wasn't aware she was telegraphing. "Sometimes," he added. "Are you going to be here in an hour?"

Mac made a show of looking at her wrist as though checking her watch, even though it was bare. "I supposed I can pencil you in."

"Yeah, do that."

Mac pantomimed writing Dick's name in the air, and they said their good-byes. She tracked Dick's trajectory towards Olscamp Hall on the other side of the vast quad until he was just a speck. It was probably just some misguided guilt that kept him visiting her in those early days post-coma. She was probably imagining that connection that felt like they were building wire-thin link by link. It wasn't the first time she'd misread things, it wasn't going to be the last either.

She forced herself to get back to the task of reading those monopoly and oligopoly case studies. There was one that was especially relevant to Hearst College, and that was the rise of Hearst Mart, another big box store that was owned by Selma Hearst Rose, who was granddaughter of the founder of their university. That conjured up a lot of baggage with it though as Selma had gone missing her freshman—freshperson—year and Vee had been tasked with finding the heiress.

This time Mac remembered to take frequent breaks from her reading, to give her straining eyes a rest.

The hour went by quickly, and Mac wasn't even aware Dick had come back until a white to-go cup with a cardboard sleeve around it was thrust in her face, obstructing her view of the text. She automatically grabbed it, murmuring her appreciation.

"Soy chai latte," Dick announced. He let out a soft oof as he plopped down beside her on the firm ground. He shifted a little bit. "Tree root up my butt," he explained, then shrugged and took a drink of his own coffee beverage.

"Generally, I find it works better if you look first, and then flop down." Mac retorted as she closed her book and tossed it back in the bag.

"Aren't you just full of lessons today," Dick replied. "Besides, that's not how I roll."

"Obviously."

"So, are we going to make small talk first or just get right down to it?"

"Get right down to what?" Mac asked, really selling her confusion by cocking her head.

"You're pissed about something."

"No, not pissed."

"Maybe my definition is rusty, but it sounded to me like you were pretty ticked at me."

"Confused maybe," Mac clarified. "You moved into the hospital waiting room when I was first injured, and then as I got better I hardly ever saw you. I just…You know, I just…Yeah, confused." She shrugged, and then turned her attention onto the cardboard sleeve of her drink cup, to avoid looking at Dick.

"I didn't think there was room for me," Dick admitted softly, after about a minute of silence.

"Room for you?" Mac's confusion was back.

"You had other things on your mind, you know, like getting well."

"Okay. That's true, but you also have no idea how lonely that is. I just wanted to," Mac paused right there, still not looking at Dick, still worrying the corner of the cup protector. "I needed to feel normal, and it's pretty hard to do when going through three kinds of rehab, and fourteen zillion doctor appointments every week."

"And now?"

"I'm done with all the therapies, and I just have to check in with the neurologist every few weeks to make sure I keep making progress." This time Mac ventured a glance over at Dick.

"That's great, Mac." he was smiling. "By the way, I wanted to say I'm digging the new 'do."

"Oh yes, the latest in TBI chic."

"TBI?" It was Dick's turn to be confused.

"Traumatic Brain Injury," Mac clarified. "My hair has grown out quite a bit, mostly covering the Frankenstein scars and holes." She had been wearing hats most of the summer, but was so happy to see when school started back her hair was just long enough to cover what needed to be covered to stop those awkward conversations before they could start. Along with all the drug cocktails she'd been taking steadily, her mom also had her on a vitamin regimen, which probably helped the hair growth. Her mom's distrust of the medical industry was limitless, as far as Mac could tell.

"With the glasses, and the short hair, you're really rocking the Velma look these days."

"Velma?"

"Scooby gang. Velma, you know, the brainiac who helps that dog detective."

"I know who Velma is, I guess I've just never heard anyone but Ryan call me that."

"I heard all your nicknames. Chatting with Ry this summer was very educating."

"Ry?" Mac raised a brow. "Wow, did he knit you a friendship bracelet too?"

"No, but I do know the Mac family secret handshake."

"I don't even know that," Mac teased.

"They told me not to tell you."

Mac controlled, or thought she did, the grimace that crossed her face as Dick's joke hit closer to home than he could have known.

"What Macadoodle? You okay?" His tone was sharp with concern.

"Yeah," Mac said, "just a twinge of a headache. I get those a lot these days." It wasn't a cover story.

"I bet," Dick said not unsympathetically. "Do you need any Advil? I might be able to find a bottle in my bag."

"No thanks. I try to avoid taking stuff when I can, and this one is nothing."

"Oh, good," he replied, running the hand not holding the coffee through his hair again. "Have you heard much from Ronnie these days?"

"Yes, she checks up on me a lot, but tries to act like that's not what she's doing. What about you?"

"Every other weekend, and twice on Sundays until classes started again."

The only acknowledgement Mac made of Dick's innuendo was a signature eye roll.

"Actually, I think Logan is going up to Stanford this weekend," Dick continued when it became apparent Mac wasn't going to reply. "I'm glad the reunion was less of a disaster than we all expected, but if I have to hear him whistle Luck is a Lady one more time I will be the one with a migraine."

"Luck be a Lady," Mac corrected automatically.

"Be, is, whatever." Dick waived a hand dismissively.

"All it took to bring them back together was one tiny coma. My tiny coma."

"It was anything but tiny." This time his tone was not dismissive. "You scared the shit out of me Mac, at a time when I didn't think I could care about anyone, on a day when I only wanted to drown in vodka. I saw the ball coming, and felt absolutely powerless. It's an area code I know well." Dick's tone was bitter, but then he added softly, like an afterthought, "I don't know why the hell you'd want me in your life."

"Do you really want to know why?" Mac asked. She assumed his last statement was rhetorical but didn't want to just let it go.

"Sure, I got nothing better to do anyway."

"You do such a great job of acting dumb, and acting like you are nothing but a dick living up to your name."

"You're not very good at pep talks, you know that?" he grumped.

"I'm not done, Dick," she huffed a sigh. "For someone that says they don't care about anyone, you aren't very convincing. I've seen you drop things on a second's notice to bail Logan out of some jam. I'm going to guess you probably had better things to do this summer than hang out in the smelly waiting room to see if I'd wake up, yet you did it."

"No, the truth is I didn't."

"You didn't what?"

"I had nothing better to do than sit around the smelly waiting room and wait for when you woke up." Dick stressed the when. "I'm not exactly full of social engagements these days."

"I'd think playing Halo all day and drinking vodka all night would be better than the hellhole of a waiting room at Neptune Memorial."

"I did that too, and surfing as well."

"Okay, well you don't need my pep talk so I'll save it."

"So you want me in your life why?"

"You do want my pep talk after all," Mac mused. "I thought I sucked at them."

"You do," Dick rushed to assure her, "but you're the only one offering one right now, so I'll take what I can get."

"Greedy, greedy little bugger."

"Yeah, you have no idea Macadoodle."

A soft breeze kicked up and Mac watched Dick's hair, the errant strand that needed a trim, ripple in response. She reached out with the hand not holding the almost-empty coffee cup and started to brush it, but got self-conscious midway and quickly lowered it again. It was an awkward rookie move.

"I showered," Dick announced, and Mac, knowing she'd been caught, felt her face heating up.

"We'll add that to your pep talk, you have good hygiene."

"That's it? I'm a loyal friend with good hygiene?"

"Yup, that's it. You want more?"

"I'm a greedy bugger, remember?"

"You're not nearly as dumb as you want people to think you are."

"I'm not changing my mind."

"You're not changing your mind about what, Dick?"

"The quality of your pep talk."

"You feel better about yourself now, right?"

Dick grunted, not really committing to a yes or a no.

"I'll take that as a yes," Mac stated. "Evidence is showing that I'm better at this than you give me credit for."

It got quiet and Mac let it stretch out, not feeling a need to fill in the conversational gaps. The quad was pretty much deserted except for one other group of students on the other side of the vast expanse. The wind kicked up another gust.

"Do you really not feel normal these days?" Dick finally asked.

"I never feel normal, Dick. I have never felt normal a day in my life."

"Well, first, normal is overrated, Mac-a-lac," Dick said as if it were a news alert. "But you said you were lonely and needed to feel normal."

"What?"

"That lecture you just gave me when I was kind enough to bring you that tea and milk shit you like."

"Soy chai latte," Mac corrected automatically.

"That's what I said, tea and soymilk shit."

"Whatever," Mac acquiesced. "I just felt like a pin cushion and science experiment rolled into one, and everyone seemed afraid of me. Honestly, I didn't think it bothered me until I saw you earlier today. Things came flooding back I guess."

"What do you mean everyone was afraid of you?"

"Once I got out of the hospital, and was transferred to that rehab place, I don't know, it just seemed like life went on. Well, life went on for everyone but me. People stopped visiting. Maybe they thought it was catching?"

"I'm sorry for my part in that," Dick said softly.

Mac watched him play with a blade of grass.

"I just wasn't sure I had a place in your life," he continued.

"You do," it was Mac's turn to speak quietly.

"So, in your quest to feel normal again, I have an idea."

"Okay, I'll bite. What's your idea?"

"We could go out this Saturday. I hear the youth of today do that kind of thing," Dick said, the words tumbling together. He was aiming for an idle vibe but not quite succeeding.

"A pity date?" She heard her voice rise.

"No! No way, Mac, I don't pity you. I…I the opposite of pity you," Dick's voice got louder, too.

"The opposite of pity?"

"You're the wordsmith, not me."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Dick echoed. "Well, you're easier than I thought," he added.

"And I've just withdrawn the yes," Mac retorted. "It's okay to keep some thoughts private."

"Oh goody, more life lessons. I'm not accepting your no, I am only acknowledging the yes. So, where are we going?"

"Surprise me, Dick."

They talked a few more minutes, ironing out details like what time Saturday Dick would pick her up, before he picked up his stuff and headed for his last class of the day.

The quad started filling up again as another class session let out, and Mac watched Dick get swallowed up by the crush. Though it wasn't a direction Mac would have predicted, after all she and Dick had been through the past several months, it had that meant-to-be sheen to it. There was still an hour left before her next class, but with that headache from earlier still lingering along the edges, and being a little overwhelmed (in a good way) by her conversation with Dick, Mac decided to blow it off, like college kids everywhere. It gave her an added bit of normalcy.

**************Mackenzie household, thirty minutes later**********************

Mac parked her Beetle up at the top, far left part of the driveway, still leaving plenty of room for her dad to use the garage when his shift at Fun Time Motors was over.

She was right back to living at home again. All it took was a bump in the head to lose that bit of hard-won independence.

To be honest though, she thought her parents were doing a pretty good job of giving her space. It was still an adjustment going from living on her own to right back under their parental thumbs, but that became the lowest priority in the early dark days of her recovery period when basic tasks had to be relearned. Now, fortunately, things were getting easier day by day. Parker had ambitious plans for them living arrangement wise for next semester, but that seemed a long way off at this point.

Step by step, day by day, it had become her motto for muddling through her new normal.

Her plans for the upcoming weekend were an unexpected side effect for her new life though—a date with Dick. She wasn't sure that would have happened otherwise. Her accident had allowed Dick to show an extended side to his 'fifteen minutes of humanity' she otherwise had only begun to suspect lingered under his jackass exterior.

Mac hit the button on the garage opener, gathered up her bookbag and locked up the car.

As Mac entered the house through the mud room, she noticed her mom sitting at the battered handmade oak table of their large eat-in kitchen. Natalie had her face buried in her arms, causing Mac to pause, waiting for the tell-tale sound of muffled sobs. She didn't hear anything though.

"Mom?" It was said tentatively.

"Cindy," it was said in a startled sounding gasp. Her mom lifted her head up, revealing dark circles under her eyes, smudged mascara, Mac assumed.

"Are you okay?" Obviously she wasn't, but that's all Mac could think to ask in the moment.

"I wasn't expecting you home so early, hon. Don't you have class now?" It wasn't an answer.

"Headache."

"Oh sweetie, sit down," her mom jumped up, going into mother hen mode, and pulled out the chair next to the one she'd been sitting in.

"Mom! I'm fine," Mac insisted. "You can take a nurse break from time to time. I think you're feeling worse than the patient right now, anyway."

"It's nothing a couple Valium, or maybe a bottle—or three—of wine won't fix, hon." Natalie said dryly. She was already by the counter grabbing a bottle of prescription meds and fetching a glass of water, obviously showing no sign of surrendering the nurse title. "You're trying to do too much these days."

"I'm not the only one, obviously," Mac muttered, under her breath, or so she thought until her mom glared at her as she slapped the pills down in front of her.

"Take these. Your dad should be home soon, I had him stop by to pick up a couple of pizzas for dinner."

Pizza was weekend food in the Mackenzie household, Mac now knew for sure something big was up.

"Where's Ryan?" Mac asked. She dutifully swallowed the pills; it was easier than arguing with her mom.

"I sent him over to Zane's house."

That explained the quiet, the lack of laser guns and blasters that usually filtered out from the living room, overtaking the cramped ranch home. It also didn't do anything to lessen the feeling of impending doom making its home in the pit of Mac's stomach. Not that Ryan heading across the street to the shelter of his best friend's home after school was that a-typical, it's just once she put all the little things together it didn't add up to the linear equation she'd hoped for.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing hon. Why don't you rest up a little bit, and I'll wake you for dinner?"

The request, though bathed in motherly concern, also seemed to carry a plea for some solitude with it as well, so in deference to that Mac gave her mom a quick hug before heading off to her room.

Mac discarded her bag on the desk chair, and then reached in to retrieve her cell phone. She flopped on her double bed with the sagging mattress and scrolled through the contacts, stopping at Bond, her contacts nickname for Veronica.

Me: I fell down a rabbit hole today.

Proving Mac's theorem that Veronica had her phone sewed to one hand, the answering ping came right away.

Bond: Sounds painful. Hard landing?

Me: You tell me. Dick just asked me out.

Bond: curious

Me: I know, right.

Bond: So, when you say out, you mean out out?

Me: Well, not in out. Yes, out out. Date out, to be specific.

Bond: Curiouser and curiouser. Is this a good thing, this out out date with Dick?

Me: Maybe?

Bond: I'll read him his rights.

Me: Are you coming down this weekend?

Bond: I can. Logan was going to come visit me for a change, but plans can easily be changed.

Me: No, it's okay.

Bond: I'll skype Thing 2 later, firm plans up with him. But if I have to I can always text Thing 1 his rights. Even 600 miles away he's scared of me.

Me: Way to wield power from afar.

Bond: You have no idea! And for your date, we'll put Parker in charge of girling you up.

Me: I can actually dress myself. I'm potty-trained too.

Bond: How very renaissance of you. I'm getting the evil side-eye from my prof. We'll do boy talk later.

Me: Bye Bond! Go learn!

Bond: 10-4 over & out…

Mac placed the phone on her bedside table and stretched out on the bed. Her headache was gone, but the feeling that the other, mythical shoe was about to come in for a hard landing was still there. All she could do was mentally brace herself for the Mad Hatter tea party that was about to begin.

She didn't have long to wait.

Her eyes had just shut, her breathing started evening out when the door to her room opened and her dad gently reached out to awaken her.

"Wake up sweetie. Dinner is ready." Her big teddy bear of a dad reached over to give her a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"Hi dad," Mac murmured, sitting up in bed.

"I brought home a pizza."

"So I heard. Did hell freeze over? You realize it's Tuesday, right?" She twirled around to get out of her bed, and followed her dad out into the hallway.

"Your mom is tired, she didn't feel like cooking."

Instead of going into the kitchen, Mac's dad headed over to the dining room table where dinner was plated up and Ryan was already eagerly tucking into a meat-lovers special. Her mom also had a slice of the meat lovers, but was merely nibbling hers.

Mac took her customary seat across from Ryan and reached out for one of the cheese-less pepper and mushroom slices piled on her plate. She took a small bite and studied her family as she chewed. It tasted like cardboard, but that was probably just nerves affecting her taste buds.

Mealtime was quiet, but that was common in the Mackenzie household, eating was serious business. The time spent before and after the meal, however, was usually loud and fun. It was a time to recap your day, a place to debate racing rules and regulations. Tonight, however, Mac watched her mom push the half-eaten remains of her first, and only slice of pizza. Even Ryan must have picked up on something odd though, because though he managed to demolish ¾'s of an entire pie, he didn't really say much as he digested the roughly three pounds of meat and grease he had consumed in five minutes flat.

"There's no easy way to say this other than to just say it," Natalie said finally. She took a deep breath as though diving right to it. She pushed her plate away from her, placing the napkin over the remains of her dinner. "The best thing that ever happened to me began with a mix-up at the hospital."

Mac knew it was coming, hell it was way past time to hear, but still it was one of those moments you could never truly be prepared for.

She wondered where the Queen of Hearts was with those trays of tarts. The Mad Hatter tea party was in full swing now!

Mac heard her mom brokenly go through the events of her birth, pausing for tears here and there, but it was almost as though the events had happened to someone else. Maybe it was because she heard the story in her dreams, and sometimes nightmares, it gave it that grayed edge reality of a bad TV movie.

Her dad was silent, stoic, holding her mom's hand, not adding anything to the conversation though. Ryan's eyes darted back and forth between her and their parents, like he was watching a hockey game.

Ellen Sinclair had reached out to her mom earlier that day to extend an olive branch between the Sinclair and Mackenzie family. She was evidently hoping to have her petit-fours and eat it too.

"We're invited to brunch on Saturday morning at the Sinclair's," Natalie said, her eyes lingering on Mac.

"Brunch?" Ryan asked. It was the first thing Mac heard him say since she sat down.

"Rich people breakfast," her mom shorthanded. "I said we'd be there. Maybe I shouldn't have done that, but we're not the only ones who almost lost a daughter, they did too. I know that pain first hand, so I did what I thought was right. Forgive me, Cindy." It was a plea.

This would have been the perfect time for a tearful confession of her own, a terse recap of what Veronica had discovered all those years before, but it wasn't something Mac was ready to let go of. That gothic secret was so much a part of her DNA she couldn't splice it.

Instead she mumbled that it was a lot to take in, but she could 'pencil in' a rich person's breakfast with the Sinclair's. Going through the motions, Mac said goodnight to her parents and Ryan, and had just enough time to tuck herself into bed before the tears rained down, flooding everything else out.

The Neptune Disease was spreading...

TBC…

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