Ficlet: I Heard You Fell Into a Rabbit Hole (Cassidy) PG-13
Title: I Heard You Fell Into a Rabbit Hole
Author:
vedarko28
Rating: PG-13 (for, like, one sexually explicit word)
Word Count: 1,692
Summary: "Come on in, Beaver," Lilly calls, swimming up to the side of her pool. "The water is, like, amazing."
Characters: Cassidy, Lilly, mentions of Mac, Dick, Veronica, Logan, Woody, Meg, Marcos, and Peter.
Disclaimer: Rob Thomas and the CW own Veronica Mars
Spoilers/Warnings: Through 2.22
A/N: Um, I'm not going to even try to explain this fic...it just kind of came to me. Anyway, the only thing you really need to know is that I switch back between calling him Cassidy and Beaver sometimes, but that intentional. Also, the title came from a Bright Eyes song. So...go read!
This place, whatever (or wherever it is), does not strike him as hell. That would be more like being forced to carry a very drunk Dick up a flight of stairs for all eternity. This place looks like the heaven where virginal Veronica Mars might have gone when he killed her at Shelly's party. But if that was true, than his eight year old self would be here as well, still untouched by Woody Goodman's rough, calloused hands.
"Come on in, Beaver," Lilly calls, swimming up to the side of the pool. "The water is, like, amazing."
"I go by Cassidy now," he tells her matter-of-factly, stepping away from the water.
Lilly giggles, floating on her back. "But is that what they call you?"
Confused, Cassidy grips his stomach, looking at the clear, blue water. He doesn't understand the sudden fear that's settled deep inside of him. Back when...well, before...he had lived for the water, the coolness, the feeling of being reborn when he stepped out of his family's pool and into the sun.
"I'll be seeing you, Beaver," Lilly winks.
"Where are you going?"
"It's not me," she calls. "It's you."
And then arms are holding him, dragging him away from the sun and into the dark.
He's never able to see their faces. They always stand in the shadows, their outlines illuminated by the thinnest patches of light. He thought he recognized their voices the first time, when they told him the rules.
Rule #1: Don't struggle or you will never be free.
Long leather straps slither down the length of the hard wooden chair, holding him in tight. The feeling of being stuck, unable to move, is practically unbearable. Panic takes up residence in his stomach, right next to the burning fear, and he keeps flashing back to years ago, when Dick used to sit on his head with a pillow until he passed out. He could remember the moment right before the blackness reached him, when the euphoria hit and he thought he could feel God. Back when he still believed in God, that was. Now the only thing he believes in is the panic and the fear.
Every so often he finds himself back at the pool, listening to Lilly talk. She has so much to say and he can't blame her. After all, she was alone for two years.
"I'm getting really tired of all these lilies," she says one day (day? Is that how time is measured here? He's not sure, but it seems like a days are too small and insubstantial to matter). "I mean, I understand the symbolism and the beauty and everything, but Jesus! I mean, how would you feel if you were surrounded by beavers constantly?"
Cassidy winces at the thought. Suddenly the arms are back and he's being pulled away.
How much longer?" he cries.
Lilly shrugs. "It's up to you."
Rule #2: Never close your eyes.
It's not like he really needs to blink, not now that he's...in his present state of being. But it's a nice habit, a predictable body mechanism.
Not anymore.
His eyelids are taped up, unmoving. They don't water, but he wishes they would. That would give him just the tiniest bit of hope that maybe he wasn't really de-...well, you know, that maybe the past year was all a nightmarish fantasy and he still had the option of not pressing that button.
"Hold this, will you?"
He agrees and keeps the bottle steady as Lilly paints a few coat of polish on her toenails. He doesn't know why it matters to her, but then again, he's just happy to be free for the moment.
"Mac, Mac, Mac," Lilly mutters a moment later. "That name, it kind of just pops in your mouth, doesn't it? Not that you every popped anything else with her, kiddo."
She picks up a cherry out of the bowl by her chair and tosses it in her mouth.
"Too bad you were too young for me Cassidy," she says. "You may be scrawny, but you look like you've got energy to spare."
He drops the bottle of nail polish. The red spills everywhere and he suddenly gets a picture in his head of blood running down the side of a car, dripping onto the ground below, police sirens blaring in the background. He wants to heave, but he can't.
When the arms take him he goes willingly because Lilly is really starting to get on his last nerve.
Rule #3: Don't try to block it out, that will only drive you crazy.
They make him watch. If his mind starts to drift, even if only for a second, he feels a shock run up his spine, which confuses him, because he always though the de-...people such as himself, couldn't feel, well, anything.
They make him watch the television screen. It's always the same show every time. He watches himself up atop the Neptune Grand, waving his father's gun around, ranting like a lunatic.
He sees Veronica collapse when she sees the plane her father was supposed to have been on explode over the city.
He sees Mac, wrapped up in a shower curtain, shaking and sobbing.
He sees his brother, rushed to the hospital with alcohol poisoning one lonely night after graduation.
He sees each ones of his victims. They all have something to share with him.
Meg tells him about all the precious moments she should be sharing with her daughter.
Peter talks about how his parents are in debt because of the cost of his funeral.
Marcos goes on an on about his unused baseball scholarship to USC and all the major league ball he'll never get to play.
Mac's speech makes him want to cry, but there's no such thing as tears wherever he is, and that makes it worse.
"My clothes, Beaver, why did you take my clothes? You left me alone and scared and naked. Nobody looks at me the same anymore, Beaver. Why did you have to take so many people with you when you jumped off of that building?"
They always call him Beaver.
Lilly lies on the lawn chair, sunning her back, while Cassidy sits next to her on the ground. "Do you ever wonder if they had a funeral for you Cassidy? Do you ever wonder who would show up?"
He stays silent because lately it's all he ever thinks about. How is she able to read his mind so clearly?
"I watched mine. Closed casket, you know. It's really too bad, because except for the head wound, I looked amazing."
Cassidy cracks his knuckles and waits for the arms to come.
"I watched yours, too," she whispers. He looks up, waiting for her to go on. "Do you want to know about it?"
He nods.
"Twelve people, Beaver. Twelve. I counted twice, just to be sure. Dick, your mother, Logan, your little cherry virgin, Cindy. She sat in the back, you know. Must have been too embarressed to be seen at your funeral. The streaks were gone from her hair. You must have taken them with you."
He grips his hand around her wrist, his nails digging into her porcelin skin. It vaguely occurred to him that she probably couldn’t feel pain, but it felt good anyway.
"If it had been me," he mutters into her ear. "I would used something heavier than an ashtray. Something that would have really smeared your brains on the pavement."
The smile never leaves her face. "Oh, Beaver," she says, stroking her face. "The guilt feels good doesn't it? The anger, the pain? It's something to drown in. This will never end until you pull yourself out from the depths. Understand, sweet cheeks?"
It's almost a relief when the arms come to take him away. The sound of her voice makes him want to step off the ledge all over again.
It's a new release this time, an old film seen with foreign eyes.
It's almost like he's there, standing in the corner, watching his former self sit next to an unconscious Veronica Mars. His stomach churns and he starts to feel a sudden dizziness wash over him, but it's impossible to turn away.
Beaver of the past undoes his belt.
Beaver of the past climbs aboard, full steam ahead.
Beaver's body heart and mind and soul explodes as he comes, feeling free for just one moment before the weight of what he's done settles down on his chest and the guilt returns, twice as heavy as it was before.
He spills his guts all over Carrie Bishops shoes but even that can't make it better.
"I don't want this anymore," Cassidy whispers, his hands balled up into fists. The hooded figures, the ones who dragged him away every time, pull down their hoods.
"What did you say?" they ask.
Dick, Mac, Veronica, Logan, or monsters with their faces. The ones he hurt the most, gathered around to watch him relive his crimes over and over.
"I don't want this anymore!" He screams and the words reverberate around him. The walls crumble and the tv turns to fuzz. The straps have been removed from his hands and he runs, knocking the tv onto the ground as he passes it. The sound of breaking glass sounds like ringing bells in his ears.
"Good job, Cassidy," Lilly smiles up at him from her raft.
"I just didn't want to feel guilty anymore." he tells her. He decides that if he could cry this would be the moment to start blubbering.
"You shouldn't have to," Lilly tells him, floating closer. "But this isn't about you. This is about them. You trapped yourself here because you couldn't let go. And you trapped them here with you. But you're free now to move on now. And so are they."
"Where do I go from here?"
She plunges her fingers into the water and a small ripple spreads through the pool. "Come on in, Cassidy, the water is, like, amazing."
He does and when the water hits him, calm and cool, it's like being reborn.
Author:
vedarko28
Rating: PG-13 (for, like, one sexually explicit word)
Word Count: 1,692
Summary: "Come on in, Beaver," Lilly calls, swimming up to the side of her pool. "The water is, like, amazing."
Characters: Cassidy, Lilly, mentions of Mac, Dick, Veronica, Logan, Woody, Meg, Marcos, and Peter.
Disclaimer: Rob Thomas and the CW own Veronica Mars
Spoilers/Warnings: Through 2.22
A/N: Um, I'm not going to even try to explain this fic...it just kind of came to me. Anyway, the only thing you really need to know is that I switch back between calling him Cassidy and Beaver sometimes, but that intentional. Also, the title came from a Bright Eyes song. So...go read!
This place, whatever (or wherever it is), does not strike him as hell. That would be more like being forced to carry a very drunk Dick up a flight of stairs for all eternity. This place looks like the heaven where virginal Veronica Mars might have gone when he killed her at Shelly's party. But if that was true, than his eight year old self would be here as well, still untouched by Woody Goodman's rough, calloused hands.
"Come on in, Beaver," Lilly calls, swimming up to the side of the pool. "The water is, like, amazing."
"I go by Cassidy now," he tells her matter-of-factly, stepping away from the water.
Lilly giggles, floating on her back. "But is that what they call you?"
Confused, Cassidy grips his stomach, looking at the clear, blue water. He doesn't understand the sudden fear that's settled deep inside of him. Back when...well, before...he had lived for the water, the coolness, the feeling of being reborn when he stepped out of his family's pool and into the sun.
"I'll be seeing you, Beaver," Lilly winks.
"Where are you going?"
"It's not me," she calls. "It's you."
And then arms are holding him, dragging him away from the sun and into the dark.
He's never able to see their faces. They always stand in the shadows, their outlines illuminated by the thinnest patches of light. He thought he recognized their voices the first time, when they told him the rules.
Rule #1: Don't struggle or you will never be free.
Long leather straps slither down the length of the hard wooden chair, holding him in tight. The feeling of being stuck, unable to move, is practically unbearable. Panic takes up residence in his stomach, right next to the burning fear, and he keeps flashing back to years ago, when Dick used to sit on his head with a pillow until he passed out. He could remember the moment right before the blackness reached him, when the euphoria hit and he thought he could feel God. Back when he still believed in God, that was. Now the only thing he believes in is the panic and the fear.
Every so often he finds himself back at the pool, listening to Lilly talk. She has so much to say and he can't blame her. After all, she was alone for two years.
"I'm getting really tired of all these lilies," she says one day (day? Is that how time is measured here? He's not sure, but it seems like a days are too small and insubstantial to matter). "I mean, I understand the symbolism and the beauty and everything, but Jesus! I mean, how would you feel if you were surrounded by beavers constantly?"
Cassidy winces at the thought. Suddenly the arms are back and he's being pulled away.
How much longer?" he cries.
Lilly shrugs. "It's up to you."
Rule #2: Never close your eyes.
It's not like he really needs to blink, not now that he's...in his present state of being. But it's a nice habit, a predictable body mechanism.
Not anymore.
His eyelids are taped up, unmoving. They don't water, but he wishes they would. That would give him just the tiniest bit of hope that maybe he wasn't really de-...well, you know, that maybe the past year was all a nightmarish fantasy and he still had the option of not pressing that button.
"Hold this, will you?"
He agrees and keeps the bottle steady as Lilly paints a few coat of polish on her toenails. He doesn't know why it matters to her, but then again, he's just happy to be free for the moment.
"Mac, Mac, Mac," Lilly mutters a moment later. "That name, it kind of just pops in your mouth, doesn't it? Not that you every popped anything else with her, kiddo."
She picks up a cherry out of the bowl by her chair and tosses it in her mouth.
"Too bad you were too young for me Cassidy," she says. "You may be scrawny, but you look like you've got energy to spare."
He drops the bottle of nail polish. The red spills everywhere and he suddenly gets a picture in his head of blood running down the side of a car, dripping onto the ground below, police sirens blaring in the background. He wants to heave, but he can't.
When the arms take him he goes willingly because Lilly is really starting to get on his last nerve.
Rule #3: Don't try to block it out, that will only drive you crazy.
They make him watch. If his mind starts to drift, even if only for a second, he feels a shock run up his spine, which confuses him, because he always though the de-...people such as himself, couldn't feel, well, anything.
They make him watch the television screen. It's always the same show every time. He watches himself up atop the Neptune Grand, waving his father's gun around, ranting like a lunatic.
He sees Veronica collapse when she sees the plane her father was supposed to have been on explode over the city.
He sees Mac, wrapped up in a shower curtain, shaking and sobbing.
He sees his brother, rushed to the hospital with alcohol poisoning one lonely night after graduation.
He sees each ones of his victims. They all have something to share with him.
Meg tells him about all the precious moments she should be sharing with her daughter.
Peter talks about how his parents are in debt because of the cost of his funeral.
Marcos goes on an on about his unused baseball scholarship to USC and all the major league ball he'll never get to play.
Mac's speech makes him want to cry, but there's no such thing as tears wherever he is, and that makes it worse.
"My clothes, Beaver, why did you take my clothes? You left me alone and scared and naked. Nobody looks at me the same anymore, Beaver. Why did you have to take so many people with you when you jumped off of that building?"
They always call him Beaver.
Lilly lies on the lawn chair, sunning her back, while Cassidy sits next to her on the ground. "Do you ever wonder if they had a funeral for you Cassidy? Do you ever wonder who would show up?"
He stays silent because lately it's all he ever thinks about. How is she able to read his mind so clearly?
"I watched mine. Closed casket, you know. It's really too bad, because except for the head wound, I looked amazing."
Cassidy cracks his knuckles and waits for the arms to come.
"I watched yours, too," she whispers. He looks up, waiting for her to go on. "Do you want to know about it?"
He nods.
"Twelve people, Beaver. Twelve. I counted twice, just to be sure. Dick, your mother, Logan, your little cherry virgin, Cindy. She sat in the back, you know. Must have been too embarressed to be seen at your funeral. The streaks were gone from her hair. You must have taken them with you."
He grips his hand around her wrist, his nails digging into her porcelin skin. It vaguely occurred to him that she probably couldn’t feel pain, but it felt good anyway.
"If it had been me," he mutters into her ear. "I would used something heavier than an ashtray. Something that would have really smeared your brains on the pavement."
The smile never leaves her face. "Oh, Beaver," she says, stroking her face. "The guilt feels good doesn't it? The anger, the pain? It's something to drown in. This will never end until you pull yourself out from the depths. Understand, sweet cheeks?"
It's almost a relief when the arms come to take him away. The sound of her voice makes him want to step off the ledge all over again.
It's a new release this time, an old film seen with foreign eyes.
It's almost like he's there, standing in the corner, watching his former self sit next to an unconscious Veronica Mars. His stomach churns and he starts to feel a sudden dizziness wash over him, but it's impossible to turn away.
Beaver of the past undoes his belt.
Beaver of the past climbs aboard, full steam ahead.
Beaver's body heart and mind and soul explodes as he comes, feeling free for just one moment before the weight of what he's done settles down on his chest and the guilt returns, twice as heavy as it was before.
He spills his guts all over Carrie Bishops shoes but even that can't make it better.
"I don't want this anymore," Cassidy whispers, his hands balled up into fists. The hooded figures, the ones who dragged him away every time, pull down their hoods.
"What did you say?" they ask.
Dick, Mac, Veronica, Logan, or monsters with their faces. The ones he hurt the most, gathered around to watch him relive his crimes over and over.
"I don't want this anymore!" He screams and the words reverberate around him. The walls crumble and the tv turns to fuzz. The straps have been removed from his hands and he runs, knocking the tv onto the ground as he passes it. The sound of breaking glass sounds like ringing bells in his ears.
"Good job, Cassidy," Lilly smiles up at him from her raft.
"I just didn't want to feel guilty anymore." he tells her. He decides that if he could cry this would be the moment to start blubbering.
"You shouldn't have to," Lilly tells him, floating closer. "But this isn't about you. This is about them. You trapped yourself here because you couldn't let go. And you trapped them here with you. But you're free now to move on now. And so are they."
"Where do I go from here?"
She plunges her fingers into the water and a small ripple spreads through the pool. "Come on in, Cassidy, the water is, like, amazing."
He does and when the water hits him, calm and cool, it's like being reborn.