Veronica Mars Ficlets: "Veronica Mars Meets the CW"
Okay, so I was really bored at work today, so to avoid falling asleep in a puddle of drool on my keyboard, I played a fic game. I guess you could say I made up a fic challenge for myself. Because I'm lame. The rules:
Write two crossovers/mashups with another CW show (in this case, Seventh Heaven, which I hate, and Supernatural, which I love). One silly, one serious. These are both just wee ficlets, but it was fun to do something totally out of left field.
I'll just say spoilers to end of S2 to be safe, but there's really nothing in there.
1.
Hannah looked around the living room miserably. The whole family had gathered, and were watching her closely, as if hoping she might burst into tears at any second. If the torture didn’t stop soon, she just might.
“…and those are the house rules. Is everything clear?”
Hannah nodded at the preacher. “Yeah. No drinking, no smoking, no drugs, no sex. Lying, secrets, eavesdropping, stalking, and butting into other people’s business is strongly encouraged.”
He clapped his hands and smiled. “Excellent! I know you had a hard time at boarding school, but I think you’ll fit right in here. Your parents will be thrilled.”
“We get to share a room!” the teenaged girl said, bouncing slightly. Which one was she again? Bethie? Stephie?
“Great.” Hannah tried to fake a smile. A dog bounded into the room, and she gave the smile another go. “Oh, how cute. What’s his name?”
“Happy!” the entire family exclaimed in unison.
Hannah cursed the day she ever let Logan Echolls buy her a slushie.
2.
The day the crime scene video leaked was not the first time Logan saw Lilly dead. There had been shadowy dreams for days - Lilly’s unseeing eyes, water reflecting off blood. He thought it was his subconscious telling him that it was over. Before she died, as he watched her laugh and play with Veronica, he figured it was time to listen to his instincts. He didn’t notice that she wore familiar green and white. When he’s drunk and watching dawn creep closer, he wonders if maybe he didn’t want to notice.
He never told anyone about the dreams - didn’t really see the point in making himself a suspect. Besides, with Duncan drugged into oblivion, there was no one to tell.
In the days leading up to his mother’s death, Logan doesn’t remember dreaming at all. He supposes he must have, but his brain didn’t offer up any images of consequence. His father’s death caught him equally unawares. Sometimes he wishes he had seen it for himself if he couldn’t be the one to do it. But then again, maybe not.
He did dream of Beaver on a rooftop, and tries to believe that he did everything he could except be up there a few minutes earlier. Anything else was already years too late in coming.
Tonight he dreams that the sky is fire, and Veronica burns. He wakes gasping, reaching for her. Her hand is warm on his cheek as she whispers that she’s fine, her lips against his. He doesn’t sleep again, just listens to her breathing.
He skips class the next afternoon and goes home to pass out. The dream comes again, clearer now. Logan can make out the corners of his room and the ceiling, the blood dripping from Veronica’s stomach. When he wakes, he paces the hallway by the elevator, not willing to allow her one foot inside the suite.
It will happen tonight, he is sure.
When she finally arrives, she argues all the way down to the parking garage and to her apartment. She needs her textbook from the coffee table - a midterm is at stake. He doesn’t tell her the truth, and finds it difficult to make up a convincing lie, finally settling on something vague about fumigation. She casts worried glances at him when she thinks he isn’t looking.
Watching TV that night in tense silence, pain blossoms behind his eyes. Kaleidoscope images appear as he doubles over in agony - an old black car, a road sign, more fire and blood. When the agony recedes, his head throbs and the images flicker and fade. He’s somehow on the floor. He knocks the phone out of Veronica’s hand before she can dial the last “1,” and tells her that he knows where they have to go.
“The hospital would be a good start.” Her voice shakes as she kneels over him, pressing her palm to his forehead.
He grasps her hand. “I can’t lose you.”
Veronica shakes her head, a tear landing on Logan’s forehead. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”
“Neither do I.”
As the sun comes up, they pass the Sacramento city limits.
Write two crossovers/mashups with another CW show (in this case, Seventh Heaven, which I hate, and Supernatural, which I love). One silly, one serious. These are both just wee ficlets, but it was fun to do something totally out of left field.
I'll just say spoilers to end of S2 to be safe, but there's really nothing in there.
1.
Hannah looked around the living room miserably. The whole family had gathered, and were watching her closely, as if hoping she might burst into tears at any second. If the torture didn’t stop soon, she just might.
“…and those are the house rules. Is everything clear?”
Hannah nodded at the preacher. “Yeah. No drinking, no smoking, no drugs, no sex. Lying, secrets, eavesdropping, stalking, and butting into other people’s business is strongly encouraged.”
He clapped his hands and smiled. “Excellent! I know you had a hard time at boarding school, but I think you’ll fit right in here. Your parents will be thrilled.”
“We get to share a room!” the teenaged girl said, bouncing slightly. Which one was she again? Bethie? Stephie?
“Great.” Hannah tried to fake a smile. A dog bounded into the room, and she gave the smile another go. “Oh, how cute. What’s his name?”
“Happy!” the entire family exclaimed in unison.
Hannah cursed the day she ever let Logan Echolls buy her a slushie.
2.
The day the crime scene video leaked was not the first time Logan saw Lilly dead. There had been shadowy dreams for days - Lilly’s unseeing eyes, water reflecting off blood. He thought it was his subconscious telling him that it was over. Before she died, as he watched her laugh and play with Veronica, he figured it was time to listen to his instincts. He didn’t notice that she wore familiar green and white. When he’s drunk and watching dawn creep closer, he wonders if maybe he didn’t want to notice.
He never told anyone about the dreams - didn’t really see the point in making himself a suspect. Besides, with Duncan drugged into oblivion, there was no one to tell.
In the days leading up to his mother’s death, Logan doesn’t remember dreaming at all. He supposes he must have, but his brain didn’t offer up any images of consequence. His father’s death caught him equally unawares. Sometimes he wishes he had seen it for himself if he couldn’t be the one to do it. But then again, maybe not.
He did dream of Beaver on a rooftop, and tries to believe that he did everything he could except be up there a few minutes earlier. Anything else was already years too late in coming.
Tonight he dreams that the sky is fire, and Veronica burns. He wakes gasping, reaching for her. Her hand is warm on his cheek as she whispers that she’s fine, her lips against his. He doesn’t sleep again, just listens to her breathing.
He skips class the next afternoon and goes home to pass out. The dream comes again, clearer now. Logan can make out the corners of his room and the ceiling, the blood dripping from Veronica’s stomach. When he wakes, he paces the hallway by the elevator, not willing to allow her one foot inside the suite.
It will happen tonight, he is sure.
When she finally arrives, she argues all the way down to the parking garage and to her apartment. She needs her textbook from the coffee table - a midterm is at stake. He doesn’t tell her the truth, and finds it difficult to make up a convincing lie, finally settling on something vague about fumigation. She casts worried glances at him when she thinks he isn’t looking.
Watching TV that night in tense silence, pain blossoms behind his eyes. Kaleidoscope images appear as he doubles over in agony - an old black car, a road sign, more fire and blood. When the agony recedes, his head throbs and the images flicker and fade. He’s somehow on the floor. He knocks the phone out of Veronica’s hand before she can dial the last “1,” and tells her that he knows where they have to go.
“The hospital would be a good start.” Her voice shakes as she kneels over him, pressing her palm to his forehead.
He grasps her hand. “I can’t lose you.”
Veronica shakes her head, a tear landing on Logan’s forehead. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”
“Neither do I.”
As the sun comes up, they pass the Sacramento city limits.