[Veronica Mars femmeslash fanfiction, set somewhere near the end of season 2. I know, a lot of this is recapping and suchforth, but it seemed necessary to make the story flow right. This will seem like a familiar concept to those of you who've read my Libby epic, and I know, retreading old stomping grounds... but when the idea came to me, I couldn't let it go, much though I tried valiantly. Getting back to my roots , eh? A quick thing I wrote over the course of a couple of days.
Brief aside, this may be my final fanfiction, as I'm going to try (keyword: TRY) to focus on writing original fiction from now on. Which means, of course, once I grow weary of that I'll return... more likely than not, anyway. We'll see.]
Well, this is another fine mess you've gotten yourself into, Miss Mars.
That's been my anthem for the past week. Every time I find myself with a spare moment that I could spend contemplating our true purpose on this big blue marble, instead I selfishly turn to my own microscopic problems. War, famine, Brangelina? Pish tosh - I have more important matters to tend! And, of course, this vanity would not be complete without the obligatory diary detailing every sordid moment that causes this phrase to return to the forefront. But if I vagued it up any more, this would read "Something happened, and then some other stuff, and some stuff happened because of the first stuff." Let's break it down, shall we?
I'm a moron.
Okay, still too indistinct. I now take you back to a terrible misstep I took last Wednesday. From there, the events will unfold in the manner you might have guessed. Cringe at will, dear reader - whom I sincerely hope is NOT my father. Seriously, Dad, for the sake of your ability to continue digesting food without pharmaceutical aid, if you're reading this I think you'd be much better off stopping right about... now.
o o o
Breaking into the principal's office has become something of a pastime for me. Some people have their neighborhood Frisbee tournaments or stamp collections - I have petty larceny. What can I say? Just a fun-time gal.
This time, it was Logan's fault. Naturally. He swears up and down that there's no way he could have stolen the lunchlady's undergarments as most of the school believes, because that fine afternoon he was pursuing an extracurricular activity. Why I should believe he voluntarily dishes out food at a homeless shelter - without his estranged father around to twist his arm - I have no idea, but he begged, pleaded... and waved a Benjamin Franklin beneath my gumshoe's nose. Thus I found myself elbow-deep in the filing cabinet. I had just snapped pictures of the permission slip (signed by whom? There's nobody left!) allowing him to be excused from class when I heard the door open.
"What are YOU doing in here?"
Yep. There again to screw everything up was Madison Sinclair. Brave face, brave face... "Hmm... would you believe, the backstroke?"
"Oh, you are so gonna get it this time, Veronica." Instantly smug. "Red-handed."
"Guess you don't believe me. How about the forward crawl? Is that more plausible?"
The glow that began to light up her face is illegal in five states, I'm fairly certain. "I'm calling the principal - no, wait, the police!"
"Go ahead," I laughed. How I had been awaiting precisely the right moment to reveal my weapon of mass destruction. "But just so you know... I've got an ace in the hole."
"Really?" She folded her arms over her pink cardigan, head shifting slightly to one side as she flipped her bottle-blonde hair over her shoulder. "And I should care... why?"
"Because I'm guessing by 'the police', you mean 'the sheriff.' And by all means, call him; he's a big part of the secret. And so are you! My, my, my, what a coinky-dink!"
Madison played a pretty good "dumb" - all that constant practice - but the way her face lost about a third of its color gave it all away. Which proves correct the old adage that there's no such thing as too much practice, I'd say. "I have n-no idea what you're talking about."
"Don't you? Well, then, I guess you'd better put in that call to... Don. Do you sigh that, or 'Sheriff Lamb' into his manly flesh as you snuggle afterward?"
"SHUT UP!" she suddenly screamed, flying at me. "YOU SHUT UP, VERONICA MARS!"
"Keep OFF!" I barked right back at her, holding her forearms up and away which was more difficult than I'd have guessed. Damn, but that prissy Oh-Niner builds up some lats during cheerleading practice! "Or I'll rig up the PA system to announce it!"
"No, y-you wouldn't- not even YOU can do that!"
"ARGH!" she growled, knocking me to the floor. I felt a sudden, jarring pain shooting up my spinal column, and began to flash forward to how much I would be enjoying its friends over the course of the next several days. Madison didn't continue to feign ignorance, nor decry my (SUBSTANTIAL) abilities, but she did keep me pinned there while she ranted and raved. "I HATE you, Veronica! You are such a slutty, nosy, frigid BITCH!"
Irony, ladies and gentlemen.
"Better than being arm candy for such a shining example of just how sloppy and weak local law enforcement has become!" I retorted, gritting my teeth and fighting to throw her off. "Now if you'll excuse-"
"Not like your father was any better! I'm still not sure he didn't dream up all that stuff about Logan's dad just to make himself look good! And that doesn't erase what he did to the Kanes!"
And there you have it. My ugly mistake that I alluded to at the beginning of this entry was letting Madison push my buttons to this point. From here on in, nature was taking its course and I was being dragged along on a tow cable.
"Oh yeah?" I told her, voice low and guttural. "Well, it's not as if my father wasn't right. Because they thought their precious son was capable of bumping off his own sister, they covered everything up - and Sheriff Mars smelled it a mile away. All they had to do was admit that Duncan found her and leave it at that and things would've been hunky dory. Instead, they turned to their universal problem-solver: cash. Maybe, without that bogus lead they all but giftwrapped, Aaron Echolls would have been a suspect a lot soon-"
"BIG DEAL!" she snapped flippantly, smiling nastily. Oh, that rotten piece of... "Wah, wah, your dad messed up! And he made the Kanes suffer for his mistake! For months, they had to endure tabloid press, Duncan had to be put on meds!"
"He was put on meds because LILLY DIED! When you lose a sister, it takes more than a cookie and a smile to bounce back! I even considered them myself, what with the death of my BEST FRIEND and all!"
"Whatever. All I know is, the Mars family is a pimple on Neptune's behind. Glory-hog dad, dime-whore daughter. Bad apples."
Now I was laughing. "Think whatever you want, Madison. You always have. Now, I'd like to get up and get back to being a 'dime-whore', if you don't m-"
"You tried to shrug it off, too," Madison went on - WHY did she have to go on at all? I was quite done with the conversation! Oy... "Everybody knew your Dad was twisting the knife the way he was, making Neptune a joke on the map, but you kept trying to slip right back in with us like nothing happened. As if we'd forget! Then, to make matters worse, you showed up to Shelly Pomeroy's party - and you KNEW you had no business there!" Blood was rushing in my ears now, and I felt an odd prickling sensation run down my neck. Detonation in five, four, three... "Why do you insist on turning up where nobody wants you, and then making a spectacle of yourself the whole time? Slobbering all over anybody who'd let you! Only the neediest, grossest girl of low-breeding would ever stoop-"
"YOU'RE THE REASON I WAS RAPED!"
It came out as a primal scream. Which was unexpected, since I was under the impression I was only thinking it to myself until I noticed the ache in the back of my throat one gets when using one's outdoor voice. Honestly, I never intended to tell her. Oops. And too bad for Madison her response was only the slightest bit too flippant. I mean, I could see the shock pass through her face briefly, and her response was understandable, but if it had been tempered with one more eensy-weensy scrap of compassion, I might have left it at that.
"Wh... How do you figure that?"
"Because you gave me a 'trip to the dentist!" I continued, too angry to cry yet, but also too angry to stop. This vapid, stuck-up Brown-noser Barbie had the gall to even question me? "You know, that alcohol-and-loogie concoction you hand out to your enemies, right? Except this trip went arm-in-arm with the dose of GHB that Dick Casablancas intended for YOU! So instead of loosening up his girlfriend for a night of fun and frolic, I end up being putty in the hands of every single guy at Neptune High!"
"Bull!" she fired back, eyes round, brows above them sewn together at the middle. "I saw you making out with Dick, you were so into him - trying to steal him out from und-"
"Like I EVER had any designs on the Dickmeister!" I snapped sardonically. "Once they figured out I was powerless and defenseless, every guy at the party was only too ready to feed me shot after shot of God-knows-what, sending me farther and farther from the waking realm! I passed out on a deck chair and woke up inside the house with my panties missing, Madison! While I was unconscious, I was DEFILED! Because everybody wanted to blame ME for my dad doing his JOB!"
"Y- that's not- there's no way Dick tried to give me GHB!" she grasped at.
"Oh, he did. Logan had some, too; he scored a bunch for all his chums. To be used sparingly was the original intention, but I guess it all backfired, huh? Que sera sera! Veronica has to move on with her life, even though her dad lost his job, her mother ditched her, and her virginity went up in a puff of smoke - and she doesn't even have the Kodak moment saved in her memory banks! That's just the way the cookie crumbles, huh?"
Now Madison was staring at me in some bizarre amalgam of pity, disbelief and revulsion. It was clear she wasn't ready to deconstruct everything she was so sure about because, let's face it, most of it had to do with the Mars family being trash that deserved to be burned. World upended? Check.
That's when the wonderful sensation of being nude in front of a classroom crept in. Exposure. The only way I could continue to face each day was knowing nobody knew this much about me. So much for that.
Taking a chance, I hefted myself to one side and rolled out from under her straddling legs; she fell on her hip hard, wincing. Unsteadily, I dragged myself and my trusty camera toward the door. Just as I reached for the knob, she said in a shaky, would-be superior voice, "So... are you really trying to sell me on this? That I... that because I despised what your family represented and gave you a drink with some spit, you got played with all night like a rag doll, had your virgin seal broken... and you can't remember a thing? That totally sounds like a soap opera."
"I'm not trying to sell you on anything," I said softly. Everything ached inside, and I suddenly couldn't be any more forceful. I knew her eyes were glued to my back, but I didn't turn, just shrugged. "Ask a silly question, right? Nobody's believed me so far... oh, and your illustrious, illicit boyfriend Mr. Lamb just laughed when I went in and asked for the rape kit. He thought I made it up. Because, y'know, teenage girls never get raped. Not in America, land of the free, home of the unmolested! Never..."
The cold feeling of having no control began to settle over me again, and I knew I must be rid of the cheerleader's presence before it got any worse. Therefore, I turned the knob and saved myself, leaving her on the floor to chew on my choice of words.
o o o
To be continued...