Weevil Genfic
Title: Eli
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Characters: Weevil
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2169
Without further ado... The Weevilfic that I kept crying while writing:
When Eli comes home, limping and on foot, it's clear that he's lost a lot more than the bike. His grandmother must be able to see it too; because, she doesn't comment about his failure to pick up his little cousin Maria. He thinks that maybe this kindness only makes it worse. If she was lecturing he'd have something to fight against, not that he ever talked back to his grandmother verbally but at least there would be a defense in his head. Instead there is only a plate of homemade cooking, set in front of him silently. He wants to tell her what happened, but there are already too many things he has to hide from her to ever come clean; the less she knows about that part of his life the better, he's always said. It stings to think that "that part of his life" has been forever destroyed. He'd thought it was something he'd have forever... well not forever but, fuck, he certainly hadn't thought it would end like this. It makes him wonder if maybe he should have listened more to his grandmother when she brought home those brochures about colleges and trade schools. "You were always such a bright boy Eli" she used to say. Eli remembers when he was 9. His teacher, Mrs. Lockwood, had recommended him for the special advanced math group; by the time he was in 9th Grade, he had been in special math again, but on the other end of the spectrum this time. Eli brushes the thought aside. It's a useless, traitorous, thought, and he's had more than enough treachery today.
"Nieto.." His grandmother says in a low tone and he places his hand over her aged and work wearied one, a wordless response.
Again, Eli feels like it would be so easy just to spill his guts about the last few weeks or months, how everything had turned out in ways he didn't expect. His grandmother would be proud that he'd stuck to his principles, but her admiration would only make him feel worse about all the things he'd lied to her about, guilty about the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that, if he'd known the true situation, he'd never have started that confrontation. He'd be hiding from the truth right now, just like he had been this whole year. No, he could never tell her, this sweet old woman who sacrificed daily for he and his cousins' well being, and believed that he was something better than this. If he told her, it would be for himself and not for her, and it's not like he needs to add to his list of transgressions.
"Eli, nieto, come to church with me tomorrow." she says, rising from her chair with some effort. Eli is surprised. His grandmother hasn't tried to get him involved in her religious life since he was about 12. She'd recognized that Weevil wasn't interested. Ofcourse, Eli realizes, I'm not Weevil anymore am I? The thought tastes metallic and he thinks of how his given name sounded on the lips of the back stabber. Eli. Weevil was the leader of the PCHers. Weevil's word was unquestionable and supreme. Weevil is gone now, and he realizes he wasn't even sure who Eli was, who he's become since the last time he'd been Eli. He knows why she wants him to do this: clinical terms that fail to suggest any of what it is like, fail to invoke images of things like Thumper. Identity crisis. Crisis of faith. Eli knows why his grandmother is asking him to come to church with her tomorrow.
"I'll go abuela." He tells her, standing up and kissing her cheek.
"You're a good boy Eli." she tells him, as she leaves the kitchen for bed, "I know you'll find your way. Sometimes God just has other plans for us than the ones we had for ourselves."
Eli is pretty sure he doesn't believe in God. God only problematizes things like tonight, like the way his grandmother has been broken down slaving thanklessly for white bastards, like the Echolls, all these years for almost nothing, like Lilly's head getting bashed in by that same assole father of Logan Echolls, like how guys like Dick Casablancas did even less work than him in school and then went off to fancy colleges and made millions, like the way that Logan was the first person he thought to call these days, like the fact that Felix is dead, like that his cousin Sophie is stuck raising little Angelina by herself because her loser boyfriend had disappeared (just like Sophie's father, just like Eli's own father), like the memory of his mother's still twitching body when he had found it at the age of five. Eli has no desire to believe in God, but sometimes he marvels at the way the idea bolsters people like his grandmother. He tries to understand what it is that she finds there at church, what it is that she hopes he will find. He knows what she experiences is real; Eli has learned how often the things one can't understand are a thousand times more real than those that one can come up with an explanation for. So Eli is going to church, not just to please him grandmother but because she believes; besides, what the hell, it's not like he's got much to lose at this point.
He supposes he should laugh at the idea, considering all the things he's learned this week, most importantly that Saint Mary's is the center for drug trade between the Fitzpatricks and the PCHers. Can he really get invested in a symbol that is so obviously a thinly disguised excuse for all kinds of immorality and corruption? How can he go to confessional and take it seriously, knowing that his boys... well not his boys anymore, but his former boys, go there to get drugs to sell, that every confession for them, for God knows how long, has been a betrayal? Besides, the idea of confession seems fundementally wrong to Eli. A man has to deal with the things he's done, live with them forever; it seems like bullshit to say all you've got to do is confess and that's enough. Confessing is the selfish way out. It is a way of passing the buck, of trying to give away one's past deeds and act like they aren't what made you the person you are today. Eli hopes he never gets to the point where he's too weak to keep himself from bleeding all over other people. Confession and forgiveness is clearly something invented by a man too weak to carry his own actions himself. Eli wonders if that was really what this whole religion thing was about: the evasion of responsibility. It certainly seems like that is the case for a lot of people. Then Eli thinks about his grandmother, and the way she always shoulders burdens that should never have belonged to her. No. Religion isn't just a way of avoiding responsibility, not for her. Eli bitterly sees his grandmother bent over, pushed down by the sins, not only of himself, but of people like Thumper. Fuck that shit. Religion is worse than useless. Eli wishes he could take all that weight off his grandmother's back, and maybe he will, but could he really become the martyr for a ritual his doesn't approve of?
It's not a question of belief in God or salvation. If there's a heaven, Eli is pretty much sure he's not going there and that's alright by him. It's about the things he does believe in. It's the fact that crack destoys lives, that his grandmother is a good person who deserves more than this, and that he... probably doesn't. Eli thinks maybe he would take on everyone else's sins, but not for their sake and not for his; he would do it for his grandmother. Why? Because she'd do it for him, hell she already does whether he wants her to or not. Weevil used to think that his boys were family, and maybe they are, but he's not part of that family, hasn't been for a while from the looks of it. Eli doesn't always agree with his grandmother, but that doesn't mean he can't trust her, or at least that's what he thinks. It's hard to know with everything so fresh and different. Last year she sacrificed him for his cousin and other people might see that as a betrayal, but Eli knew she would have done the same thing if they boys positions had been reversed, if Weevil had been the one who was 18 and having fucked up and Charo had been 17 and innocent. Eli muses that maybe she's been teaching him religion all along. That was a Christianity thing right... sacrifice?
Eli looks up at the clock above the stove. It is almost 4AM. The hour probably explains the conversation on religion he has been having with himself, that or the fact that his world has fallen down around him. He finds it's getting easier to think of that concept, at least a little, alright maybe not at all but at least he is starting to think it. Fuck. He's got church tommorrow, church with them. Eli wishes he could just leave town, leave and never come back, but he's promised his grandmother, and besides ony cowards run and running only makes them want to chase you. Weevil always had nothing but contempt for those too weak to face whatever was thrown at them like a man. Eli thinks sometimes it would be easier not to be a man. Then again, if it were easy it wouldn't be being a man now would it? Not really. Being a man means doing things the hard way.
He hears a key in the front lock and knows it's Sophie, just now getting home from work. He is about to get up and go to bed before she sees him like this, but he hesitates a moment too long and she walks into the kitchen before he can escape. The minute she comes into sight, Eli knows there is no chance of leaving now.
"Sophie?" he says, trying not to betray his inner reaction to the state she's in. Her sweater looks torn, her hair dishelved. He's filled with rage that anyone would treat his cousin in such a way to leave her like this. He doesn't want to think about the probable implications of what has most likely been done to her. He can feel himself getting angry already.
She turns to him and he sees that a bruise is developing on her cheek already, "Thank the lord you're home in one piece!" she exclaims, flinging her arms around him.
Eli reminds her to be quiet and not wake grandma, "Shhhshhh... What happened to you?" he asks, trying to shift the focus. He can see her examining the gash in his head, "Soph... who hurt you?"
She turns away, trying to hide the truth, "It's true isn't it? They really did turn on you... Oh Eli!"
"The boys do this?" He demands. Jesus Fucking Chist, he had no idea that they would ever take this out on her. He'd been thinking about what it meant for him alone, never suspecting they'd pull this kind of shit. Of course, he'd never suspected a lot of things they were capable of. Weevil apparently had been incredibly blind to what was really going on.
"What happened Eli?" Sophie asks, and Eli wonders if she really wants to know. It would be a relief to tell someone, to just let everything that out, but it wouldn't be for her, it would be for his own release and it would be selfish and weak. Eli is disgusted with himself that he's even thinking about it. Sophie has seen quite a bit but some things are better left unsaid. Usually he'd tell her not to worry about it, that he'll take care of things and there's nothing to be concerned about. He can't really say that right now though, because there are a lot of things to worry about.
"Those fucking bastards are going to pay for this."
That is all he can find in himself to say at the moment, before turning and walking off to take a shower, like the hot water could wash away all the things he's seen and heard and felt, like a little soap will make it possible to erase the stains. It's a miracle that his skin is still intact by the end of the shower, after being scalded and scrubbed so furiously. It isn't until he shuts the water off that he realizes he's been crying since the moment he turned it on. He huddles on the bathroom floor, arms wrapped around his body, unable to do anything to keep the tears from pouring down his face.
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Characters: Weevil
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2169
Without further ado... The Weevilfic that I kept crying while writing:
When Eli comes home, limping and on foot, it's clear that he's lost a lot more than the bike. His grandmother must be able to see it too; because, she doesn't comment about his failure to pick up his little cousin Maria. He thinks that maybe this kindness only makes it worse. If she was lecturing he'd have something to fight against, not that he ever talked back to his grandmother verbally but at least there would be a defense in his head. Instead there is only a plate of homemade cooking, set in front of him silently. He wants to tell her what happened, but there are already too many things he has to hide from her to ever come clean; the less she knows about that part of his life the better, he's always said. It stings to think that "that part of his life" has been forever destroyed. He'd thought it was something he'd have forever... well not forever but, fuck, he certainly hadn't thought it would end like this. It makes him wonder if maybe he should have listened more to his grandmother when she brought home those brochures about colleges and trade schools. "You were always such a bright boy Eli" she used to say. Eli remembers when he was 9. His teacher, Mrs. Lockwood, had recommended him for the special advanced math group; by the time he was in 9th Grade, he had been in special math again, but on the other end of the spectrum this time. Eli brushes the thought aside. It's a useless, traitorous, thought, and he's had more than enough treachery today.
"Nieto.." His grandmother says in a low tone and he places his hand over her aged and work wearied one, a wordless response.
Again, Eli feels like it would be so easy just to spill his guts about the last few weeks or months, how everything had turned out in ways he didn't expect. His grandmother would be proud that he'd stuck to his principles, but her admiration would only make him feel worse about all the things he'd lied to her about, guilty about the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that, if he'd known the true situation, he'd never have started that confrontation. He'd be hiding from the truth right now, just like he had been this whole year. No, he could never tell her, this sweet old woman who sacrificed daily for he and his cousins' well being, and believed that he was something better than this. If he told her, it would be for himself and not for her, and it's not like he needs to add to his list of transgressions.
"Eli, nieto, come to church with me tomorrow." she says, rising from her chair with some effort. Eli is surprised. His grandmother hasn't tried to get him involved in her religious life since he was about 12. She'd recognized that Weevil wasn't interested. Ofcourse, Eli realizes, I'm not Weevil anymore am I? The thought tastes metallic and he thinks of how his given name sounded on the lips of the back stabber. Eli. Weevil was the leader of the PCHers. Weevil's word was unquestionable and supreme. Weevil is gone now, and he realizes he wasn't even sure who Eli was, who he's become since the last time he'd been Eli. He knows why she wants him to do this: clinical terms that fail to suggest any of what it is like, fail to invoke images of things like Thumper. Identity crisis. Crisis of faith. Eli knows why his grandmother is asking him to come to church with her tomorrow.
"I'll go abuela." He tells her, standing up and kissing her cheek.
"You're a good boy Eli." she tells him, as she leaves the kitchen for bed, "I know you'll find your way. Sometimes God just has other plans for us than the ones we had for ourselves."
Eli is pretty sure he doesn't believe in God. God only problematizes things like tonight, like the way his grandmother has been broken down slaving thanklessly for white bastards, like the Echolls, all these years for almost nothing, like Lilly's head getting bashed in by that same assole father of Logan Echolls, like how guys like Dick Casablancas did even less work than him in school and then went off to fancy colleges and made millions, like the way that Logan was the first person he thought to call these days, like the fact that Felix is dead, like that his cousin Sophie is stuck raising little Angelina by herself because her loser boyfriend had disappeared (just like Sophie's father, just like Eli's own father), like the memory of his mother's still twitching body when he had found it at the age of five. Eli has no desire to believe in God, but sometimes he marvels at the way the idea bolsters people like his grandmother. He tries to understand what it is that she finds there at church, what it is that she hopes he will find. He knows what she experiences is real; Eli has learned how often the things one can't understand are a thousand times more real than those that one can come up with an explanation for. So Eli is going to church, not just to please him grandmother but because she believes; besides, what the hell, it's not like he's got much to lose at this point.
He supposes he should laugh at the idea, considering all the things he's learned this week, most importantly that Saint Mary's is the center for drug trade between the Fitzpatricks and the PCHers. Can he really get invested in a symbol that is so obviously a thinly disguised excuse for all kinds of immorality and corruption? How can he go to confessional and take it seriously, knowing that his boys... well not his boys anymore, but his former boys, go there to get drugs to sell, that every confession for them, for God knows how long, has been a betrayal? Besides, the idea of confession seems fundementally wrong to Eli. A man has to deal with the things he's done, live with them forever; it seems like bullshit to say all you've got to do is confess and that's enough. Confessing is the selfish way out. It is a way of passing the buck, of trying to give away one's past deeds and act like they aren't what made you the person you are today. Eli hopes he never gets to the point where he's too weak to keep himself from bleeding all over other people. Confession and forgiveness is clearly something invented by a man too weak to carry his own actions himself. Eli wonders if that was really what this whole religion thing was about: the evasion of responsibility. It certainly seems like that is the case for a lot of people. Then Eli thinks about his grandmother, and the way she always shoulders burdens that should never have belonged to her. No. Religion isn't just a way of avoiding responsibility, not for her. Eli bitterly sees his grandmother bent over, pushed down by the sins, not only of himself, but of people like Thumper. Fuck that shit. Religion is worse than useless. Eli wishes he could take all that weight off his grandmother's back, and maybe he will, but could he really become the martyr for a ritual his doesn't approve of?
It's not a question of belief in God or salvation. If there's a heaven, Eli is pretty much sure he's not going there and that's alright by him. It's about the things he does believe in. It's the fact that crack destoys lives, that his grandmother is a good person who deserves more than this, and that he... probably doesn't. Eli thinks maybe he would take on everyone else's sins, but not for their sake and not for his; he would do it for his grandmother. Why? Because she'd do it for him, hell she already does whether he wants her to or not. Weevil used to think that his boys were family, and maybe they are, but he's not part of that family, hasn't been for a while from the looks of it. Eli doesn't always agree with his grandmother, but that doesn't mean he can't trust her, or at least that's what he thinks. It's hard to know with everything so fresh and different. Last year she sacrificed him for his cousin and other people might see that as a betrayal, but Eli knew she would have done the same thing if they boys positions had been reversed, if Weevil had been the one who was 18 and having fucked up and Charo had been 17 and innocent. Eli muses that maybe she's been teaching him religion all along. That was a Christianity thing right... sacrifice?
Eli looks up at the clock above the stove. It is almost 4AM. The hour probably explains the conversation on religion he has been having with himself, that or the fact that his world has fallen down around him. He finds it's getting easier to think of that concept, at least a little, alright maybe not at all but at least he is starting to think it. Fuck. He's got church tommorrow, church with them. Eli wishes he could just leave town, leave and never come back, but he's promised his grandmother, and besides ony cowards run and running only makes them want to chase you. Weevil always had nothing but contempt for those too weak to face whatever was thrown at them like a man. Eli thinks sometimes it would be easier not to be a man. Then again, if it were easy it wouldn't be being a man now would it? Not really. Being a man means doing things the hard way.
He hears a key in the front lock and knows it's Sophie, just now getting home from work. He is about to get up and go to bed before she sees him like this, but he hesitates a moment too long and she walks into the kitchen before he can escape. The minute she comes into sight, Eli knows there is no chance of leaving now.
"Sophie?" he says, trying not to betray his inner reaction to the state she's in. Her sweater looks torn, her hair dishelved. He's filled with rage that anyone would treat his cousin in such a way to leave her like this. He doesn't want to think about the probable implications of what has most likely been done to her. He can feel himself getting angry already.
She turns to him and he sees that a bruise is developing on her cheek already, "Thank the lord you're home in one piece!" she exclaims, flinging her arms around him.
Eli reminds her to be quiet and not wake grandma, "Shhhshhh... What happened to you?" he asks, trying to shift the focus. He can see her examining the gash in his head, "Soph... who hurt you?"
She turns away, trying to hide the truth, "It's true isn't it? They really did turn on you... Oh Eli!"
"The boys do this?" He demands. Jesus Fucking Chist, he had no idea that they would ever take this out on her. He'd been thinking about what it meant for him alone, never suspecting they'd pull this kind of shit. Of course, he'd never suspected a lot of things they were capable of. Weevil apparently had been incredibly blind to what was really going on.
"What happened Eli?" Sophie asks, and Eli wonders if she really wants to know. It would be a relief to tell someone, to just let everything that out, but it wouldn't be for her, it would be for his own release and it would be selfish and weak. Eli is disgusted with himself that he's even thinking about it. Sophie has seen quite a bit but some things are better left unsaid. Usually he'd tell her not to worry about it, that he'll take care of things and there's nothing to be concerned about. He can't really say that right now though, because there are a lot of things to worry about.
"Those fucking bastards are going to pay for this."
That is all he can find in himself to say at the moment, before turning and walking off to take a shower, like the hot water could wash away all the things he's seen and heard and felt, like a little soap will make it possible to erase the stains. It's a miracle that his skin is still intact by the end of the shower, after being scalded and scrubbed so furiously. It isn't until he shuts the water off that he realizes he's been crying since the moment he turned it on. He huddles on the bathroom floor, arms wrapped around his body, unable to do anything to keep the tears from pouring down his face.