Disclaimer: Veronica Mars and all recognizable characters are the intellectual property of Rob Thomas.
Five:
Veronica is tapping a pencil against her desk as her thoughts wander about. This is a habit that annoys her father to no end, just like right about now. He's fixing a cup of coffee, and the damn tapping of that pencil is really starting to grate on his nerves. He swears that he just can't take much more of it.
Finally he finds himself standing in front of her desk and then he snatches the pencil from her grasp as he calmly takes a sip of coffee, pleased that the incessant tapping has finally ceased. His daughter looks up at him with a start, and he sees that something is bothering her.
"What is it honey?" he asks.
She draws in her bottom lip, and he knows that whatever she's about to hit him with is big, really big. To say that he's surprised by her question is an understatement. "Do you know who owns the Phoenix Land Trust?"
He looks down at her, and shrugs. "Not that I'm seeing a point here, but that would be Kendall Casablancas. She got everything when her stepson leapt off a building."
"Actually Dad, you're wrong. Kendall's son owns the majority shares of the Phoenix Land Trust, or he will once he's eighteen. His shares currently reside in a really nice trust fund that Kendall can't touch. She's just running things until he comes of age," Veronica replies.
Keith blinks. "What? How do you know this?"
"Because I've done a background check on him. You see I met him a couple of months ago, and he doesn't add up. I mean his story is straight, the way he told it, but there's just something, and Dad, if you saw him, you would just know. Now he's involved with Mac, and Mac is going along with it because she's vulnerable and hopeful and probably still messed up over graduation night and now with a baby…"
"Baby…?" Keith says, his voice rising in pitch. "How about you go back somewhere near the beginning and fill your old man in, and how did you find out Kendall had a kid?"
"Wait, what do you mean had?" Veronica asks.
"He's dead Veronica. She showed the certificate of death to me the day I missed our plane to New York. His name was Casey Banks, and he was involved in some drug related stuff in L.A. He was beaten to death. His body was found the day before you graduated, and then it disappeared. Now where are you going with this?"
"The most recent thing I found in his background check was some possession charge in L.A. and then the trust fund with the Phoenix Land Trust shares, and his name was changed to Cassidy in 1990," Veronica replies, and then she closes her eyes, because she knows the truth. "Oh God, I think I'm going to be sick."
She reaches for the wastebasket next to her desk and throws up, because she knows that she's right, that Cassidy Banks is Beaver. Before was mostly just speculation and conspiracy theories, but now here it is before her, her father has practically confirmed it. Cassidy Casablancas is very much alive, Mac knows it, is living with him, and is going to have his baby.
"Veronica, sweetie, what the hell is going on?" Keith asks in concern.
"Oh Daddy, I wish I could tell you," she whispers, as she wipes her mouth.
He rubs her back and pulls her into a hug as he says, "Of course you can. You can tell me anything. Start with why you think you met Casey Banks two months ago."
"His name is Cassidy Banks, and it's more complicated than that. Mac is pregnant and I found out a couple of days ago, and she's practically moved in with this guy who is claiming to be Kendall's long lost son, who owns a majority share in the company that Cassidy Casablancas started up. It's a lot of little things."
"Wait, are you saying that you think Cassidy Casablancas might actually be alive? But his body was identified at the scene, you saw him jump, you saw the body on Madison Sinclair's car. How can you fake jumping off of the tallest building in Neptune?" Keith asks.
"He's got the money and Kendall probably has the resources. What if it wasn't Cassidy's body we saw, but Casey's?"
"Then if you're right, and Cassidy Casablancas is alive, that means that Mac is in danger. She has to get away from this boy. Do you think she knows it's him?" Keith asks.
Veronica nods. "Yeah, but I've seen them together, and Dick was with them, and they seem so normal, and with the way he was acting around her, he was protective. He took up for her and the baby against his brother."
"Veronica, he blew up a bus full of kids and a plane, a plane that I was almost on."
"Believe me, I know. I know what he did, and I'm less likely to forgive him than you are, but this would hurt Mac, and if we took it to Lamb he'd laugh in our faces. There is a body in that grave, and people want it over and done with."
"And what about justice? We'll just have to get some concrete proof before we take this to Lamb. Once we have the proof then he'll have to follow up on it. It's still kind of hard to believe that a sixteen year old kid could fake his own death though."
"Almost as hard to believe as that same sixteen year old blowing up a bus full of teenagers, and then blowing up a plane to kill the man that molested him? He has the money, the brains, the motive, the anger, and the resources. He is definitely capable of it."
"But if he went through all of that trouble to get a new start, why did he stay in Neptune? He could have gone anywhere, taken any identity."
"Maybe he couldn't leave the people he cares about," Veronica replies.
"Come again. How are sociopaths capable of caring?" Keith asks.
"He didn't start out that way. Woody Goodman and his parents sort of pushed him into it. At first on that roof he was all rage, anger, hatred, cruelty. He wanted to hurt someone, and he did, he hurt me, Daddy, but those last few minutes, when he was on that ledge, he wasn't angry anymore, he was lost, scared, broken, and hopeless, and he just took a step back like it was inevitable and he wasn't on the verge of leaping to his death. I can't hate him completely when I remember how he looked on that ledge."
"So what do you want to do? I'm leaving this up to you. You know how I feel, I think he should face justice for what he's done, not get a new lease on life. He's killed people, and that changes a person. Do you honestly think Mac is safe with him, let alone a baby? When will he snap again? What's to stop him from hurting Mac, the baby, you? What? You think about that, Veronica, and I trust you to do the right thing, and I'll be here to help you when you need it, and I'll be keeping an eye on you and do I even need to tell you that I really don't want you around that kid?"
Veronica takes a deep breath. "Regret, and his conscience. I think we should keeping looking into this, and definitely watch him, but I don't know about turning him in. Look, I know how you feel about justice and people that get away with things, but with what I saw in his eyes, he's not getting away with it. He might not feel any remorse about blowing up Woody, and who can blame him there, but I think he regrets the other lives. He has to live with that every day. If he is someone that Mac trusts then maybe he is facing justice, and judging himself. This could make him a better person."
"And what right do you have to judge him?" Keith asks gently.
"I have more right than you'll ever know," Veronica whispers, as she closes her eyes against the fuzzy memories of Shelly Pomroy's party.
Slowly she opens her blue eyes with a groan of defeat and shakes her head. This is getting ridiculous. She's never peed so often in her life, but she's never been pregnant before either. She lets out a small sigh and carefully slips out of bed and away from the warmth of Cassidy's arms. She stands in the doorway of the bedroom for a moment, a small smile on her face as she sees him curled up in the bed, he looks so innocent, and sweet, and peaceful.
She goes into the bathroom, takes care of business, and then she finds herself gazing into the mirror. She notices a blemish on her nose and sighs. Such is the curse of pregnancy, or so she's read. A few minutes later she is walking barefoot down the hall. She pauses at the door to the bedroom, her brow furrowed as she hears whimpering from inside.
She slowly opens the door, wondering what's going on. She only left him for a few minutes, how can things change from innocent, sweet, and peaceful so quickly, she doesn't know, but they have.
She is frozen in the doorway as he says things, his voice filled with pain, anguish, sorrow, remorse. Her heart is breaking as she watches him writhe in the bed, getting tangled in the covers, as he pleads.
"Please, I didn't mean for it to happen the way it did. Meg, I'm so sorry. I didn't know… Peter, just turn around, look at me. He hurt us all, and you were bringing it all back. It hurt, and Marcos how could you go along with Peter? We swore we'd never tell. Please, just look at me."
His body is flushed and glistening with sweat, and Mac sucks in a deep breath. She can't take anymore. She's shaking him awake, and his eyes fly open as he sits up, gasping for air like a drowning man. He looks around him wildly, and then his arms are around her, and he's clinging to her, his face buried against her neck and shoulder, and she feels his burning tears against her skin as he sobs.
He's hurt, and broken, and sorry. More than anything he's sorry, and her heart is aching for him. She closes her eyes and tears slip down her face as she slowly begins to rock his shaking body as he begs and pleads and says, over and over again, that he's sorry.
She isn't sure how long they are like this on the bed, holding each other. She takes in a deep breath when she feels his shift in mood, and he slowly pulls back from her. His eyes are dark, desperate, and red rimmed, his hair wild, his face blotchy, and his breathing is ragged. He only holds her gaze for a moment before he's staring down at the bed, and his words chill her to the bone.
"How can you stand to look at me, let alone touch me, knowing what I've done?" he asks, and his voice is cracking.
"Because I know that isn't you anymore. You're Cassidy again. You're the boy I fell in love with. I want you to see that as much as I see it," she whispers softly and reaches out to touch him, but he jerks away from her, and she pulls her hand back, stunned and hurt by his sudden movement.
"I've killed people, Cindy. I didn't mean for all of them to die. I really don't think I meant for any of them to die, but once I hit the send button it was too late. I wasn't really thinking until I'd already done it, and then I had to hide the fact that I did it, and then finding out that Meg had survived and was in a coma and pregnant… And now being with you and knowing that there is a part of me growing inside of you, I can't help thinking about Meg never watching her daughter grow up, and it's because of me. None of those people on that bus will have what I have with you now, and that is because of me."
She reaches out and this time her fingers touch his cheek, and he's leaning into her touch, and then he's looking at her again, and his eyes are confessing his every fear to her. "I can't tell you that it wasn't your fault. We both know you did that, but trust me when I say that I know you aren't that boy anymore. I need you to know that. I've had a lot of time to think about the person that people tried to convince me you were, and you hurt me when you took my clothes and I almost believed them, but then I remembered how you were when we were together, how you are now. You can't be that other person, that evil person, you never were that person, you were just scared, hurt, desperate and going along with the only way you saw out of a bad situation. Yes it was the wrong thing to do, but you know that, and you are sorry, and while it doesn't change anything, you regret it, you have remorse; you beat yourself up over it constantly. You wouldn't do that to yourself if you weren't the Cassidy that I know. The Cassidy that I love."
He tries to turn away from her intense gaze again, but this time she isn't letting him. She leans forward and presses her mouth against his, coaxing him into a kiss, and he's slowly kissing her back.
When she pulls back she looks at him with acceptance and love in her eyes and says, "I know what you've done, Cassidy Casablancas, and I still love you. I won't ever judge you for it, and I won't stop loving you because of it. I'm not telling you to let go of it, but I am asking you, begging, in fact, to move on, because you can't undo it, you can only move on and try to make up for it by being a better person."
"How can you believe in me?" he asks her in bewilderment.
She gives him a small smile. "Because I know you, the real you. Let me show you," she whispers, and then her hand is against his cheek and she's kissing him again, and then she asks him something that makes his eyes widen in shock, and his mouth go dry.
"Make love to me, Cassidy, please?"
He's breathing heavily as her lips meet his again, and he feels heat pooling in his stomach as he becomes aroused, but then he's pulling back and asking, "What about the baby?"
She rolls her eyes and almost glares at him. "I've read the books, it's okay up until the third trimester, and I'm pregnant, not dead."
"O-okay," he stutters nervously, and this time he's the one that initiates the kiss, and then his hands are shaking as they slip beneath her t-shirt and glide over the slight bump of her stomach, and then up along her ribs until his finger tips are grazing her breasts. She moans when his hands glide over her breasts, and her nipples harden at the contact. She lets her head fall back, as he lifts her shirt away and looks at her.
She's staring at him; her eyes glowing with want and need. Suddenly she is tugging at his shirt and pulling it over his head, and they are facing each other, until finally he leans forward, his lips press against the corner of her mouth and then trail down her chin, neck, collarbone, and then his mouth is on her breast, and she's whimpering as heat begins to coil in the pit of her stomach and flood throughout her sensitive body.
She needs to touch him, her hands glide up his chest, her fingers ghosting across his ribs as he moves to her other nipple, gently licking and suckling, and the sensation is more than she is expecting. Her hands somehow find their way into his hair, and she pulls him back and her mouth is crashing down on his before she pulls back, panting, and then she makes her demand.
"I need you inside of me, now."
He is surprised by her bluntness, but there isn't any awkwardness like there was before on graduation night. He looks slightly embarrassed and mentions something about not having a condom.
She shakes her head at the absurdity of the comment, and he can't help the wry smile that tugs at his mouth as he gets it too, and then he's pulling his pajama pants and boxers down. She looks at him and takes in a nervous breath, and he's leaning over her, kissing her gently, unsure of where this confidence is coming from as he guides her down on the bed. His fingers curl around her pajama bottoms and panties and he slips them down her legs, his hands sliding down her skin along with the material, and his touch makes her skin burn, and she wants more.
He slowly makes his way back up her body. His hand finds its way between her legs and he dips a finger inside of her as their mouths collide, and he loves how her moans are caught in his mouth as she arches up against him. He adds another finger, and then he pulls his hand back as he breaks away from the kiss. He holds his hand between them, and they both see her juices glistening on his fingers. His dark eyes lock with hers as he slowly bends his head down and takes those fingers into his mouth, his eyes closing at the exquisite taste of her.
His eyes drift open at the sound of her whimpers, and when her hand wraps around him he freezes. He reaches down, takes her hand away, and as their eyes lock he guides himself into her. He moves slowly, afraid of hurting her. She shifts to accommodate him more easily, and he watches her face as she gasps and winces more than once as he fills her. He doesn't move until she smiles reassuringly at him and then he slowly pulls out, and it's sweet agony to her.
He is surprised when her hands suddenly find their way to his ass and she's urging him to increase his pace and soon she's moving with him. It's awkward at first until they find their rhythm, and then he's moving steadily within her, in and out.
The heat is building in waves, and she feels like she'll come apart at any moment, and then the coil that has been building and winding in her stomach suddenly unwinds and snaps and her body shudders as waves of pleasure roil through her, and her body closes around him. He buries himself deep within her, and his body is spasming as he comes, exploding within her, crying out her name.
It is with sheer force of will that he keeps himself from collapsing on top of her in exhaustion. He shifts as he slips out of her and falls down next to her. They are sweaty, and the room smells sweet and musky. He's resting his head on his elbow as he looks down at her, and her eyes lazily drift open as he wraps a strand of her dark hair around his finger.
"You should really considering putting the streaks back in your hair. I miss them," he says and presses a light kiss to the tip of her nose.
She chuckles as she shifts so their lips meet, and when they part she says, "I love you, too."
"I know," he whispers in response. "I know."
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