VM fic: Going down (Veronica, Ensemble)PG13, Part 5
Title: Going down (Veronica, Ensemble, PG 13), Part 5 of 6
Author: Kaze
Characters: Ensemble, Veronica POV
Word Count: 1,707
Spoilers: Season 1
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: None (in this chapter)
Summary: Seven years after graduation, Veronica thinks she escaped her P.I. past, but when a friend needs her help, she goes back into investigation mode.
Disclaimer: VM and its characters belong to Rob Thomas.
A/N: As I’ve said: I aim to finish this quickly. This is the second to last chapter, and the last one is already in work.
fickledame and blue_icy_rose made this thing readable.
Previously: Veronica has to babysit her godson, Dick Casablancas Jr, son of her good friend Cindy, when the latter is abducted after a late night meeting at work. Logan offers to look after Dickie-boy but leaves Veronica to it, which results in a fight that remains unresolved.
Chapters 1-4 in my memories
The car door was ajar, mocking me, and my first thought was ‘Oh God, Cindy is gonna kill me.’ Then I remembered Cindy’s own precarious situation, Dick’s current state of mental health and realized that right now, I’m the only one this boy has. Fuck.
I inspected the car door. There weren’t any signs of a break-in and since I had one key to the car and Logan had the other, Dickie must have opened the door from the inside. Great, just my luck that the son of Dick ‘underachiever’ Casablancas was at four years old already smart enough to bypass the child lock. He must be taking after Mac.
But where was he? Had he simply run away or had somebody shown up, prompting him to open the door? Someone he knew and trusted; who would then take him away. Or someone who promised him candy.
I put Cindy’s laptop in my trunk, closed the door with my clad elbow to not corrupt any prints and locked the car again. I figured I could first look around the area before informing the cops.
Dickie hadn’t entered his parents’ house. I would have heard the door. But he probably saw Francesca leave. Had she taken the boy? Maybe to get her piece of the cake after working so hard for it?
I couldn’t see Francesca anywhere, but for now, I was sticking to the theory that Dickie had seen his beloved Frankie and somehow mangled my car door into releasing him. So, he had probably run after her. And where would she go? The station, probably.
After making this deduction, I raced down the street towards the nearby underground station, gripping the strap of my bag tightly, where I had hidden my taser and a pepper spray. Despite all his eagerness, Dickie was still a small kid, clumsy and short-legged. He couldn’t be far.
I turned a corner and there he was, at the end of the street, looking lost. He was looking wide-eyed towards the roofs above him and the flurry of people around him. He must have failed to catch up to his sitter and now he was scared.
I slowed down a bit to catch my breath. I had found the boy, so I didn’t need to hurry anymore. At least that’s what I thought until I saw a man in a dark coat approaching Dickie, crouching down in front of him to talk to him.
I tried to yell, but I still hadn’t regained my breath, so all that came out of my throat was a scratchy but far from loud enough “Hey!” The man tried to pull Dickie with him, but the small beast struggled and for once I was happy that he was such a stubborn brat.
“Stop it!” I yelled again and this time I was loud - and close - enough to be heard. The man’s head whipped up and in this short moment of distraction Dickie pulled free of his grip. I ran into the guy full force and whipped out my taser. A few electro shocks later, and he was crawling away from me. I turned around to check up on Dickie and he stared at me wide-eyed.
“That was so cool,” he said, his voice full of admiration. “Just like a Ninja Turtle.”
I held out my hand and for once he took it without hesitation. When I turned around again, the wannabe kidnapper had vanished.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When we arrived home, equipped with fresh food, Detective Miller was already waiting. I had called him after the incident and already informed him on the phone. He obviously wanted more details. I unlocked the apartment door and let him enter after Dickie and me. He raised his eyebrows when Dickie wouldn’t let go of my hand once we were inside. After all, he had seen the disaster that was us when he’d first interrogated me at the Casablancas’.
“We bonded,” I said with a shrug while trying my best to single-handedly put away our groceries as Dickie glared at the Detective.
Miller took a seat at the kitchen counter and started his routine, inquiring about height, weight, skin color, hair color, clothing and any unusual traits I might have noticed. I could give a good visual - a curse you get as a photographer, let alone a PI - but I knew it wouldn’t help much, since everything about the guy was average.
After lots of wasted time and Millers futile attempt to get anything out of Dickie besides the fact he thought it was awesome, Miller prepared to leave. When I led him to the door, he started the speech I’d been expecting the whole time.
“Ms Mars, I’m aware of your past success in the Lilly Kane case and I also know what your father’s doing. But please be aware that this is a police matter. Getting yourself involved in the investigation will only bring harm to you or the boy.” He looked at me sternly and I nodded my head yes to reassure him. Obviously, I wasn’t very convincing, judging from his sigh when he turned and left.
Next to me, Dickie pulled at my hand that he still hadn’t let go of.
“Are you bringing back mommy now?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Don’t let it be said that I can’t deal with kids. The eternal, irresistible combination of ice cream and cartoons was still working; keeping Dickie busy and me free to tinker with Cindy’s laptop.
As I should have predicted, everything was password-protected, and I was running out of ideas. Leave it to Cindy to actually pick random passwords. I hadn’t made use of my own personal Q in a long time, but right now, I definitely needed her. Too bad she was unavailable.
I wasn’t sure what I was more eager to find though, clues as to her disappearance or proof that the picture Dick had painted of his wife was false. Anyway, I was stuck in the investigation. Admittedly, I had no clue as how to investigate, but Dickie was counting on me, now more than ever, and I simply couldn’t let Cindy down. I had snapped out of the daze I’d been in; found my way back to a past I had tried to forget. But it seemed I had forgotten how to approach a case.
I was almost thankful when the bell rang, effectively pulling me out of my self-recriminations. That feeling evaporated instantly, though, when I saw who was at the door.
“Beaver,” I said, in way of greeting.
“Cassidy,” he corrected automatically. “Hi, Veronica. I heard what happened and that my nephew is with you. I just wanted to check on him. Can I come in?”
Silently, I moved aside and made a not very enthusiastic gesture with my hand, waving him in. Suddenly, I felt a tug at my pants and looked down to see Dickie hold on to my leg. He obviously wasn’t very fond of his uncle.
“Hey, Dickie. What’s up, man?” Cassidy asked, crouching down next to the boy. Dickie moved further away from him, hiding behind my legs.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, frowning. It wasn’t usual for this kid to be shy or even quiet for longer than five minutes.
“He has rabies,” Dickie whispered, his blue eyes white from fear.
“What?” I asked, completely flabbergasted.
“My Dad says he’s a beaver and has rabies,” Dickie said and I choked back a laugh. Leave it to Dick to pass on nothing but antipathies. The younger Casablancas brother sighed and looked at his feet for a few moments, before facing the terrified boy again.
“Dickie, remember what your mommy told you? I’m not a beaver, it’s just a stupid nickname. Your mom told you to call me Uncle Cassidy, remember?” His voice had a hopeful tinge and I got the impression that Cassidy really cared for his nephew. Dickie scrunched up his nose and considered his uncle’s words, nodding slowly. Then he looked at him again.
“Beaver! Beaver! Beaver!” he yelled, pointing his fingers, then ran off to the bathroom. Ooo-kay.
Cassidy straightened again, smoothing imaginary wrinkles out of his pants.
“I’d better go,” he said, already moving towards the door.
I nodded, mumbling a, “Yeah,” under my breath. When he had left, I knocked on the bathroom door.
“He’s gone,” I informed Dickie and the boy came out again, looking at me for a long moment.
“I think he’s really creepy,” Dickie told me matter of factly, voicing the feeling I had had about Cassidy Casablancas ever since High school.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I still don’t know why I did it, what it was that made me pick up Dickie and run for the door, jumping in my car and following Cassidy. I’d like to think that it was my uncanny talent for sleuthing or that I had subconsciously noticed something on Cindy’s laptop that had tipped me off and made a connection.
But probably, it was just the way Dickie had said that his uncle was creepy. And the way Cassidy had spoken the word ‘mommy’. A Casablancas had no business sounding so endearing. Not about his brother’s wife. And especially not if he was deemed creepy by the professional opinion of a four-year-old and his reluctant babysitter.
So this is why I found myself halting in front of a dingy motel that made the Camelot look like the Ritz, watching as Beaver exited his car and ascended the outer stairwell, taking two steps at a time. I pulled out my camera and zoomed in on him, watching him approach a door on the second level. He knocked on the door and after a moment it was opened - by the man who had tried to abduct Dickie just this afternoon!
I gasped and Dickie squirmed in the backset, trying to see what I was seeing, incessantly asking me what was going on. I ignored him and kept watching Cassidy and the wannabe-kidnapper discuss something animatedly, when the latter suddenly opened the door further to let the younger Casablancas brother enter. What I saw in the back of the room literally took my breath away. Sitting on the bed, clad only in a bathrobe and knees pulled towards her chest sat Cindy.
~to be concluded
Author: Kaze
Characters: Ensemble, Veronica POV
Word Count: 1,707
Spoilers: Season 1
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: None (in this chapter)
Summary: Seven years after graduation, Veronica thinks she escaped her P.I. past, but when a friend needs her help, she goes back into investigation mode.
Disclaimer: VM and its characters belong to Rob Thomas.
A/N: As I’ve said: I aim to finish this quickly. This is the second to last chapter, and the last one is already in work.
fickledame and blue_icy_rose made this thing readable.
Previously: Veronica has to babysit her godson, Dick Casablancas Jr, son of her good friend Cindy, when the latter is abducted after a late night meeting at work. Logan offers to look after Dickie-boy but leaves Veronica to it, which results in a fight that remains unresolved.
Chapters 1-4 in my memories
The car door was ajar, mocking me, and my first thought was ‘Oh God, Cindy is gonna kill me.’ Then I remembered Cindy’s own precarious situation, Dick’s current state of mental health and realized that right now, I’m the only one this boy has. Fuck.
I inspected the car door. There weren’t any signs of a break-in and since I had one key to the car and Logan had the other, Dickie must have opened the door from the inside. Great, just my luck that the son of Dick ‘underachiever’ Casablancas was at four years old already smart enough to bypass the child lock. He must be taking after Mac.
But where was he? Had he simply run away or had somebody shown up, prompting him to open the door? Someone he knew and trusted; who would then take him away. Or someone who promised him candy.
I put Cindy’s laptop in my trunk, closed the door with my clad elbow to not corrupt any prints and locked the car again. I figured I could first look around the area before informing the cops.
Dickie hadn’t entered his parents’ house. I would have heard the door. But he probably saw Francesca leave. Had she taken the boy? Maybe to get her piece of the cake after working so hard for it?
I couldn’t see Francesca anywhere, but for now, I was sticking to the theory that Dickie had seen his beloved Frankie and somehow mangled my car door into releasing him. So, he had probably run after her. And where would she go? The station, probably.
After making this deduction, I raced down the street towards the nearby underground station, gripping the strap of my bag tightly, where I had hidden my taser and a pepper spray. Despite all his eagerness, Dickie was still a small kid, clumsy and short-legged. He couldn’t be far.
I turned a corner and there he was, at the end of the street, looking lost. He was looking wide-eyed towards the roofs above him and the flurry of people around him. He must have failed to catch up to his sitter and now he was scared.
I slowed down a bit to catch my breath. I had found the boy, so I didn’t need to hurry anymore. At least that’s what I thought until I saw a man in a dark coat approaching Dickie, crouching down in front of him to talk to him.
I tried to yell, but I still hadn’t regained my breath, so all that came out of my throat was a scratchy but far from loud enough “Hey!” The man tried to pull Dickie with him, but the small beast struggled and for once I was happy that he was such a stubborn brat.
“Stop it!” I yelled again and this time I was loud - and close - enough to be heard. The man’s head whipped up and in this short moment of distraction Dickie pulled free of his grip. I ran into the guy full force and whipped out my taser. A few electro shocks later, and he was crawling away from me. I turned around to check up on Dickie and he stared at me wide-eyed.
“That was so cool,” he said, his voice full of admiration. “Just like a Ninja Turtle.”
I held out my hand and for once he took it without hesitation. When I turned around again, the wannabe kidnapper had vanished.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When we arrived home, equipped with fresh food, Detective Miller was already waiting. I had called him after the incident and already informed him on the phone. He obviously wanted more details. I unlocked the apartment door and let him enter after Dickie and me. He raised his eyebrows when Dickie wouldn’t let go of my hand once we were inside. After all, he had seen the disaster that was us when he’d first interrogated me at the Casablancas’.
“We bonded,” I said with a shrug while trying my best to single-handedly put away our groceries as Dickie glared at the Detective.
Miller took a seat at the kitchen counter and started his routine, inquiring about height, weight, skin color, hair color, clothing and any unusual traits I might have noticed. I could give a good visual - a curse you get as a photographer, let alone a PI - but I knew it wouldn’t help much, since everything about the guy was average.
After lots of wasted time and Millers futile attempt to get anything out of Dickie besides the fact he thought it was awesome, Miller prepared to leave. When I led him to the door, he started the speech I’d been expecting the whole time.
“Ms Mars, I’m aware of your past success in the Lilly Kane case and I also know what your father’s doing. But please be aware that this is a police matter. Getting yourself involved in the investigation will only bring harm to you or the boy.” He looked at me sternly and I nodded my head yes to reassure him. Obviously, I wasn’t very convincing, judging from his sigh when he turned and left.
Next to me, Dickie pulled at my hand that he still hadn’t let go of.
“Are you bringing back mommy now?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Don’t let it be said that I can’t deal with kids. The eternal, irresistible combination of ice cream and cartoons was still working; keeping Dickie busy and me free to tinker with Cindy’s laptop.
As I should have predicted, everything was password-protected, and I was running out of ideas. Leave it to Cindy to actually pick random passwords. I hadn’t made use of my own personal Q in a long time, but right now, I definitely needed her. Too bad she was unavailable.
I wasn’t sure what I was more eager to find though, clues as to her disappearance or proof that the picture Dick had painted of his wife was false. Anyway, I was stuck in the investigation. Admittedly, I had no clue as how to investigate, but Dickie was counting on me, now more than ever, and I simply couldn’t let Cindy down. I had snapped out of the daze I’d been in; found my way back to a past I had tried to forget. But it seemed I had forgotten how to approach a case.
I was almost thankful when the bell rang, effectively pulling me out of my self-recriminations. That feeling evaporated instantly, though, when I saw who was at the door.
“Beaver,” I said, in way of greeting.
“Cassidy,” he corrected automatically. “Hi, Veronica. I heard what happened and that my nephew is with you. I just wanted to check on him. Can I come in?”
Silently, I moved aside and made a not very enthusiastic gesture with my hand, waving him in. Suddenly, I felt a tug at my pants and looked down to see Dickie hold on to my leg. He obviously wasn’t very fond of his uncle.
“Hey, Dickie. What’s up, man?” Cassidy asked, crouching down next to the boy. Dickie moved further away from him, hiding behind my legs.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, frowning. It wasn’t usual for this kid to be shy or even quiet for longer than five minutes.
“He has rabies,” Dickie whispered, his blue eyes white from fear.
“What?” I asked, completely flabbergasted.
“My Dad says he’s a beaver and has rabies,” Dickie said and I choked back a laugh. Leave it to Dick to pass on nothing but antipathies. The younger Casablancas brother sighed and looked at his feet for a few moments, before facing the terrified boy again.
“Dickie, remember what your mommy told you? I’m not a beaver, it’s just a stupid nickname. Your mom told you to call me Uncle Cassidy, remember?” His voice had a hopeful tinge and I got the impression that Cassidy really cared for his nephew. Dickie scrunched up his nose and considered his uncle’s words, nodding slowly. Then he looked at him again.
“Beaver! Beaver! Beaver!” he yelled, pointing his fingers, then ran off to the bathroom. Ooo-kay.
Cassidy straightened again, smoothing imaginary wrinkles out of his pants.
“I’d better go,” he said, already moving towards the door.
I nodded, mumbling a, “Yeah,” under my breath. When he had left, I knocked on the bathroom door.
“He’s gone,” I informed Dickie and the boy came out again, looking at me for a long moment.
“I think he’s really creepy,” Dickie told me matter of factly, voicing the feeling I had had about Cassidy Casablancas ever since High school.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I still don’t know why I did it, what it was that made me pick up Dickie and run for the door, jumping in my car and following Cassidy. I’d like to think that it was my uncanny talent for sleuthing or that I had subconsciously noticed something on Cindy’s laptop that had tipped me off and made a connection.
But probably, it was just the way Dickie had said that his uncle was creepy. And the way Cassidy had spoken the word ‘mommy’. A Casablancas had no business sounding so endearing. Not about his brother’s wife. And especially not if he was deemed creepy by the professional opinion of a four-year-old and his reluctant babysitter.
So this is why I found myself halting in front of a dingy motel that made the Camelot look like the Ritz, watching as Beaver exited his car and ascended the outer stairwell, taking two steps at a time. I pulled out my camera and zoomed in on him, watching him approach a door on the second level. He knocked on the door and after a moment it was opened - by the man who had tried to abduct Dickie just this afternoon!
I gasped and Dickie squirmed in the backset, trying to see what I was seeing, incessantly asking me what was going on. I ignored him and kept watching Cassidy and the wannabe-kidnapper discuss something animatedly, when the latter suddenly opened the door further to let the younger Casablancas brother enter. What I saw in the back of the room literally took my breath away. Sitting on the bed, clad only in a bathrobe and knees pulled towards her chest sat Cindy.
~to be concluded