Stormy Weather, Pt. 2
Title: Stormy Weather
Author: Aeneas
Pairing/Character: Mac/Weevil, Veronica-Weevil friendship
Word Count: 1,224 and running...
Rating: PG to R (at the most)
Summary: Veronica investigates a stalking case, but the most interesting case might be happening right under nose.
Spoilers/Warnings: Up to I Am God - 2x18.
A/N: The song prompt was "My Girl" by the Temptations.
The story was relegated to the third page of the paper and Veronica wasn’t surprised that Lamb had managed to put a spin on it that made him look like the hero. The noble Sheriff who had doggedly kept after the murder of a kid from the wrong side of the tracks, never giving up until he could finally issue an arrest warrant for Thumper. Her smile faded when she read that Thumper had been missing and was assumed to have fled the city. Patience wasn’t Weevil’s strong suit.
Lamb wasn’t the only one who came out smelling like roses. Logan Echolls went from Neptune’s Teflon villain to the wronged hero in the town’s greatest tragedy. Abandoned by his mother, betrayed by his father, and fresh off the success of a prize winning essay on freedom; his life had all the makings of a great Lifetime original movie.
“Must’ve been why they dismissed the charges against Logan,” her father commented without looking up from the page he was reading.
“Because Don Lamb is the picture of dedication and competence.”
“He has his moments.”
She looked over at him skeptically. “You’re not defending him, are you?”
“We should support our elected officials, Veronica. It’s part of our civic duty as citizens of a democracy.” He gave her the smile that meant she was either too young or too naïve to get the joke.
“Is that your punch line? If it is then you probably need to work on your delivery.” The paper closed with a whoosh and the smell of fresh ink. Her book bag slung over her shoulder with comfortably familiar weight.
“Got any big Friday night plans?”
“Nah. Shift at the Hut and then home for some beauty sleep.” There seemed to be more he wanted to say but when she paused at the door and waited, he merely smiled at her before turning back to his coffee. Dads were weird and hers was no exception. His mind was working on something important that required her to hold his calls more than usual. The unspoken rule, and one that she usually failed to observe, was no prying until he gave her the signal that he was ready to field questions.
School was school. The routine had gone on long enough that, despite the brewing frenzy of impending graduation, she didn’t think about it anymore. All she really noticed was the new energy buzzing amongst the seniors that was equal parts annoying and exciting. She was still holding her breath that someone would blow up the high school on graduation day and spare her the agony of walking across the stage in front of her peers.
Mac interrupted her daydreaming. “Must be a happy thought.”
“Wistful, really. Where’s Buffy when you need her?” She grabbed the books she needed and shut her locker. “Did you work things out with Cassidy?”
“He broke up with me.” Mac looked like she was smiling but her eyes were red and her voice trembled.
“What? What happened?” Steering her through the hall and into the girls’ bathroom, Veronica quickly grabbed a handful of paper towels to stem the flood of tears. “Tell me what happened.”
“I just wanted to know if it was me, if he didn’t find me attractive or if I’d done something wrong.” Tears spilled down her cheeks and her words were nearly unintelligible. “I wasn’t trying to ruin everything, Veronica. I just wanted to know that he thought I was pretty.”
She held Mac awkwardly as she began crying in earnest, patting her back gently and continuing to supply paper towels. “I’m sure you didn’t ruin anything. Once he’s thought about it, and realized how stupid he is, he’ll come around.”
“I ruined everything!” Mac’s lip trembled from her effort to control her tears.
“No, you didn’t. He could have told you what’s going on, he could have lied to you about having a rash or something. He’s the one who chose to throw away what you guys had.”
Mac sniffed and blew her nose loudly. “I got your message. Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. Haven’t been up to talking to anyone.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She waited for Mac to regain her composure before continuing. Hopefully getting her mind off of Cassidy was just what she needed.
”I have a disk with some fairly voyeuristic entertainment and I think the creep could have started out as a cyber stalker. The girl who got the video sent me links to all the websites she posts at. She writes fanfiction? Whatever that is.”
“Oh yeah. There’s tons of it online. Some of it’s pretty crazy.”
“Well, apparently our flower child writes some of it.”
“Wait a minute…you don’t mean Star Flowers, do you?” Mac’s brow furrowed with concern.
“You know her?”
“I know her fic.” She looked slightly guilty at the admission. “She writes under the pseudonym Starlight Cat.”
“Starlight Cat?”
“There are worse names, believe me. Is she okay?”
“She’s pretty shaken up. It is terrifying knowing someone’s been following you around. I think it’s a case of devoted fan gone overboard. The soundtrack for the video is My Girl; which is pretty old fashioned and naïve for a stalker. That says puppy love gone wrong to me.” Veronica didn’t elaborate further. Watching the video sent the same chills up her spine that finding surveillance photos in her mother’s safe deposit box had done. The stalker hadn’t made contact other than the video and hopefully she’d be able to find out who it was before their obsession turned dangerous.
“You’d think the Police would be the song of choice if you were going to stalk someone.”
“That’s so passé; everyone knows that’s a stalker song.” Veronica grinned. “They probably don’t think of themselves as a stalker. What do you know about her fanfiction?”
“Mostly in the Buffyverse. I haven’t read any of her Spike and Angel or Spike and Xander. There's even Xander and Giles fanfic, if you're into that. But she has all sorts of stuff other than slash.”
“Spike and Angel? Is that slash? What is slash?”
“Slash is male male character pairings. You know…romance, sex.”
“Oh!” The light bulb came on suddenly and then Veronica immediately had to wipe a host of disturbing images from her mind. “Xander and Giles is a joke, right? Tell me that’s a joke, cause that is wrong on so many levels.”
“Sorry, you can find any pairing you can think of it. Some of them are really weird. But Star’s actually pretty good as fanfic goes. There’s a lot of really bad fic out there.”
“I’ll take your word for it. What I need are digital footprints. I’ve got some emails from a very enthusiastic fan, probably a good place to start. If we can track him back to Neptune then we may just have something.” She dug through her bag for the disk with copies of the email and forum information. “I’d like to start with her routine, her neighbors, friends.”
“The enemies you know.” Mac nodded as she took the disk. “I’ll get you everything I can.”
“Thanks. You’re the best, Mac.”
“Is there a timeline I need to stick to?”
“As soon as you can get the info to me is more than good. Hopefully he’ll be content with harmless voyeuristic fantasies for a while longer. And I’ve asked to maintain the status quo until we have something to go on.” She continued to pay close attention to Mac’s expression, half-expecting the tears to begin at any moment. “Is anything else you can tell me about Ms. Flowers?”
“She’s really quiet. I think her mom is a sculptor or something but don’t quote me on that one.” Once the disk was tucked away in her jacket, Mac attempted a smile that came out a little lopsided and more than a little sad. “Thanks. Maybe this’ll help me…you know.”
Veronica nodded. “If you come by the Hut tonight, I’ll give you more chocolate cream pie than you’ve ever seen in your life. Nothing’s so bad that it can’t be cured by chocolate cream pie.”
“Thanks, Veronica.” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose one more time. “I think I will if you don’t mind. It’s either that or sit in my room and listen to really depressing music.”
“I have an official break up album if you’d like to borrow it.”
Mac gave her another sad smile. “Sorry to cry all over you. I didn’t have anyone else who wouldn’t laugh at me and tell me I should’ve known. With him being…you know, who he is.”
“I know.” She patted Mac’s shoulder again and tipped her head toward the door. “Ready to face the world?”
“Staying here does have the advantage of avoiding class.”
“There is that. But somehow I think we’d have to go all Trading Spaces on the walls by the end of school. The green and yellow? Really not the most flattering color scheme.” Veronica waited for Mac to compose herself and clean up streaked eyeliner before heading for the door. “And if you’re not completely busy with the post-break up vegging, I’m going to be retracing our stalker’s steps this weekend. Want to tag along?” The question slipped out before she could think it through and the hopeful look on Mac’s face made it impossible to retract the offer.
“Are you serious? Cause that would really help take my mind off of sharp objects. And I promise I won’t get in the way.”
“I could use the company. Might be a lot of walking though,” Veronica cautioned.
“I’ll be sure to wear sensible shoes.”
“Then it’s a date. I’ll pick you up at the reasonable hour of ten in the morning and promise to have you home before curfew, so you can tell the rents not to worry. Hopefully it won’t take that long.” She kept smiling until Mac reached the other end of the hallway and then headed for the library to play catch up on her researching for English Lit. Slipping in the room was easy and she headed for the stacks, crouching down to peruse the bottom shelf.
“There you are, Veronica. Why didn’t you check in with me when class began?” Mrs. Tuft held out the clipboard with the roll sheet.
“Sorry. I was just in a hurry to get to all the books.” She signed the sheet quickly and turned back to the books before the teacher could ask any more questions. As long as she kept the homework coming in on time and didn’t smart off in class more than occasionally, they didn’t look hard enough to see through her flimsy excuses.
It took less than a minute to gather the books she needed, check them out, and settle into a table in the far corner of the library. One essay on the imagery of Wordsworth’s poetry coming right up. It wasn’t exactly her cup of tea as far as poetry went but the hoops kept coming and she kept jumping like a good little sheep. Graduating with the Kane scholarship was the only way she’d be getting out of Neptune and if that meant five thousand words on Wordsworth, so be it.
Her mind wandered mid stanza and chose to return to the unsettling events revolving around Weevil. There were moments where he seemed to be just another high school student and then there was the Weevil who was beginning to scare her. And what was her part in all of this, if she knew he’d been involved? It was possible that he was banking on her not turning him in and that made her uneasy. She was pretty sure that eventually he would do something that she couldn’t pretend not to see.
The chance that he hadn’t been behind Thumper’s disappearance was too much to hope for and she just prayed that his body wouldn’t be washing up on shore any time soon. One of those was more than enough. She was still undecided about whether or not she believed Weevil was responsible for Curly’s death. Even if he hadn’t landed the fatal blow, he still could have injured him badly enough to put one foot in the grave. The driver of the mysterious car could have set up the whole thing and written her name on Curly’s hand after the PCHers left. It had to be a message. Someone wanted her to take notice.
It could be that Curly had lied and really was behind the bus crash or it could be that someone wanted her, and apparently the PCHers, to think that he was. If her name in permanent marker was to throw her off track then the killer could be someone who knew her. That was a terrifying thought. If Curly hadn’t been lying and he had known who was behind the crash, then the bomber had neatly tied up at least one loose end.
“Got any answers?” she asked Wordsworth quietly. Of course, he’d been dead for decades and didn’t care about a busload of dead kids or the frighteningly thorough mastermind behind their deaths.
“Talking to yourself again, Mars?” Logan plunked down in the chair across from her with the ever-familiar smirk. “You really should seek professional help if you’ve reached that stage.”
“Who needs therapy when I have you?” She shut the book and smiled guardedly. Things had seemed to be getting easier between them but the predatory vibe he was giving off triggered all of her alarm bells. She’d learned long ago to be wary of his mercurial moods. She never knew if it was his day to pull her close or push her away and there were days when Logan seemed to manage both at the same time. “Did you need something or are you just spreading sunshine into my dark little corner of Neptune?”
“I’m crushed. After that dance we shared under the crepe paper and festive lighting? I thought we had something.” Logan put his hands over his heart dramatically.
“Emphasis on the past tense.”
As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t deny that there was something between them, whatever it was. But leopards didn’t change their spots and, at the end of the day, Logan would still be Logan. That meant more drama and heartache than she needed. Maybe some day, if she were strong enough to take it, she’d buy another ticket for that ride. Loving Logan Echolls was a guarantee that her life would never be dull and her heart would never be truly safe.
“Some things never change, do they, Veronica? You still won’t give me a chance.” There were those spots showing again. Lashing out because he was hurt or angry and didn’t know how else to deal. She was mystified as to exactly what he was upset about this time but that wasn’t unusual either.
“Are you trying to be my friend again or did you need a favor? I get confused.” She turned back to her book and waited for him to leave. When he didn’t storm off in his usual Logan fashion, she looked back up and waited.
“And you’re the expert on friendship,” he muttered sarcastically and stared up at the ceiling as though she wasn’t even there. His ability to dismiss anything and anyone who wasn’t immediately relevant to his ego had always gotten under her skin.
“It’s all about what’s most important to you, isn’t it? And that would be…you.”
“You really don’t know me, Veronica.”
“I really don’t.” She gathered up her books and stood up. If he wasn’t going to relocate then she would.
“And the girl has always loved her exits,” he called after her.
She ignored him and the looks she was getting from the rest of the class. They’d gossip behind her back once she was out of earshot. Had to love the status quo. She wasn’t sure if she was more or less of a leper now that she didn’t have the 09er boyfriend accessory to go with her bag. There were still rumors and looks cast over shoulders; people still whispered her name and fell suddenly quiet when she passed by.
Their teacher had disappeared into the stacks so Veronica took the chance and slipped out of the library, glancing around the corner before hurrying down the hall to her locker. Needed textbooks procured and she was headed the other way. Footsteps that sounded too deliberate to be a student sent her veering to the right and into the undesirable wing of the school. Auto shop, wood shop. The creative arts room would be the last door on the left and empty. If she could stay ahead of Clemmons for another twenty feet then she’d be home free.
She winced as the door handle made an audible click, slipping into the darkened room as quietly as possible and praying that the noise hadn’t been noticed. The footsteps slowed and then faded away. Breathing deep, she picked a desk by the window and pulled out her Wordsworth to read in peace. Apparently fate didn’t have peace and quiet in mind.
Weevil’s voice startled her. “Didn’t think you cut class, V. Figured it wasn’t your thing.”
She could barely make out his silhouette in the darkness. “Is this gang up on Veronica day? What are you doing here, Weevil?”
He left his chair in the corner and crossed the room to lean against the wall beside the desk. “Same thing you are, apparently.
“And that thing would be?” When he tipped his head and lifted an eyebrow suggestively, she shook her head. “Don’t answer that. I saw that Lamb issued an arrest warrant for Thumper. Guess he’s missing.”
“If I was facing a murder charge, I’d be underground too,” he answered noncommittally.
“If I asked you whether or not you had anything to do with it, would you tell me the truth?” She hadn’t realized how terrified she was of that answer until the words were out of her mouth. It wasn’t the fact that Weevil had lied to her on more than one occasion that rankled; it was that he always had a reason for lying. Those reasons were what terrified her.
“You think I said the magic words and made him disappear? Believe me, if it were that easy, I woulda done it a long time ago.” He shook his head, refusing to meet her gaze.
“Luis came in and told Lamb everything. If you’d just waited.” She left her books on the desk and tried to approach him. He pulled away from her as soon as she got close enough to reach out him. “If you do see him…let Lamb deal with it. It’s the right way.”
“Yeah. Sure it is.”
“Weevil. If you do something to Thumper, you could go to jail. Have you thought about that?” She caught his arm and stopped him from walking away. “Fine. We won’t talk about. Just tell me you won’t rush into anything. Lamb knows it was Thumper.”
“If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”
She managed not to roll her eyes and gave up trying to give Weevil the pep talk on justice. After all, she couldn’t really blame him for being cynical. There had always been an edge to Weevil that had nothing to do with leather or tattoos and everything to do with growing up in the wrong zip code with the wrong color skin. But this couldn’t be the same Weevil who had picked her up from Logan’s with no questions asked just because she’d called. This Weevil was jagged stone just waiting to cut and scrape anyone who dared get close.
Since there was nothing about Weevil that didn’t involve some sort of moral conundrum, she decided on a temporary ceasefire and changed the subject. “What are you doing hiding in an empty classroom anyway?”
“Math doesn’t really turn me on.” He stared at her hand on his arm but didn’t pull away.
“I feel your pain. I may kill myself before I finish these.” She motioned to the stack of poetry books. The conversation was almost back to normal high school caliber and topic. Small talk, weather, all those good things that never meant anything. The thought of him ending up in prison didn’t actually appeal to her so she made the choice to go out on a limb and keep an eye on him. After all, Veronica Mars was a marshmallow. “While you’re here, care to play a round of quid quo pro?”
“Whaddya need?”
“One of our illustrious classmates has a particularly enthusiastic admirer that I need to persuade to back off. Might need someone to look intimidating once I find the creep.” The bell rang and announced that school was over.
He finally stirred and followed her out of the classroom. “You’ve got my number. Be happy to break a finger or two.”
“I don’t think we’ll need to go that far. Just practice your threatening look.” She smiled brightly at his glare. “That’s the one.”
The smile on his face didn’t last long and she couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him as he walked away. He looked years older than his age and part of her was sad that she couldn’t take any of that away. Of course, she’d felt the same way about Logan the summer before and that had gotten her approximately nowhere.
Heading for the parking lot with books in hand, she turned her attention toward formulating a plan. She had to catch a stalker, stop Weevil from doing anything stupid, and get Mac out of her slump. That was a tall order even for Veronica Mars.