No Good Unpunished Ch. 2
Title: No Good Unpunished
Author: Aeneas
Rating: R (language, violence, death, attempted rape)
Summary: Veronica and Weevil share celebratory milkshakes after he gets out of prison, not knowing their lives are going to collide in a much darker way only days later. (10,066 words)
Spoilers: All of Season 2
Pairings: Veronica and Logan are still together but not “onscreen”.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Rob Thomas and all the wonderful people who make Veronica Mars possible.
Notes: It’s an odd fic. A lot more happens in the spaces between the words than in the words themselves. Despite my best attempts, it’s Veronica-centric. Also, you can expect a follow-up that is Weevil-centric, but probably not until November.
“Logan?” Whatever else Veronica might have been thinking about calling out were immediately forgotten when she recognized the willowy blonde seated on the sofa. She made sure there was a perfectly sweet smile on her face once she closed the door behind her and turned around. “Hannah. You’re back.”
“Hey, Veronica,” Hannah said nervously, waving a little.
“How was boarding school?”
“More like boring school.”
“And your dad doesn’t know you’re here? Which would be why you’re not on your way back to plaid skirts and dorm room pillow fights?” Veronica glanced around for any indication of Logan or maybe a big sign explaining why she’d arrived to find Hannah Griffiths in his hotel room.
“Dad’s cool now. He thought Logan killed that kid on the bridge, but now he knows it wasn’t really Logan.” Hannah smiled brightly, looking far too happy about that for Veronica’s taste. “But it’s okay. I mean, I know that you and Logan are back together and everything. And I’m not here to, you know, break you guys up. Just got back into town and wanted to see some old friends.”
She looked sweet and innocent enough that Veronica almost believed her. “And did Logan happen to mention where he was going?”
“He and Trina went out for pizza and then we were gonna watch a movie. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
It wasn’t. Logan hadn’t returned her calls and hadn’t left any messages; she hadn’t heard a peep from him since sending him off to duke it out with Trina and the accountants almost a week ago. Squashing the wriggling jealousy at the pit of her stomach, she smiled again. “Actually, that is why I’m here. My dad asked me to run a few errands and then I’ve got all this homework. I really can’t do the movie thing tonight. But if Trina’s choosing, that’s probably not my loss.”
Hannah’s face fell. “You’re not leaving because of me, are you? Because I don’t have to be here. I’m sure Logan would rather spend time with you.”
“I really do have errands.” She glanced at her watch without actually seeing it. “And I’d better get going. Tell Logan I’ll stop by if I manage to carve some free time out of my schedule.”
“Sure. Bye, Veronica.”
It wasn’t until she was standing in the elevator that her breathing resumed any attempt at normalcy. Only the bad musack playing softly heard her muttering about being stupid under her breath. The last thing she should be doing in the face of competition was running away. She should be digging in her heels and putting Logan on a leash if that’s what it took. Taking a deep breath and giving her mental self a good shake, she decided that the proper course of action was to go home and spend a little extra time on herself. And when she came back to the Neptune Grand, she intended to look as stunning as Veronica Mars was capable of looking.
She narrowed her options down to two outfits on the drive home and was mentally matching accessories as she let herself into the apartment. Her phone dinged the second she dropped her purse on the kitchen island and she grinned as she answered it. “You’d better have roses waiting when I get back.”
“I swear, calling you was the next thing on my list.” Logan sounded concerned and a tad guilty. “It was Trina’s idea and you know how her ideas usually go.”
“Like high heels in fresh tar. It’s cool.” The wriggling thing her stomach twinged at the casual dismissal but she ignored it. He’d called, he’d explained, that was all she expected from him.
“So you’re coming back? Hannah said you had errands?”
“They won’t take long. And I needed a shower anyway.” She glanced around for anything her father might have left on the island that needed to be taken care of. One of these days, Logan was going to call her on the errand excuse and she didn’t want to be caught unprepared. There were a couple deposit envelopes with the Mars Investigations logo and the name of their bank printed in bright ink. She grabbed them and stuffed them into her purse. “And I was serious about the roses.”
“What color and how many?”
“Red,” she laughed. “And you’d better have enough to redecorate.”
“Done.” When he paused, she could hear Trina and Hannah laughing in the background. “You’re sure you’re coming?”
“Save some pizza for me,” she said lightly before pulling the phone away from her ear and disconnecting. If luck was with her, Hannah would end up keeping Trina and Logan from clawing at each other and by the time Veronica arrived, Trina would be pleading headache as she exited stage left.
She scrawled a note to let her father know she’d taken care of the week’s deposits and hurried out the door. Somehow it felt less like lying if she actually did run an errand. This was the new and improved Veronica after all. The Veronica whose reputation would actually hold up in court without sounding like the lawyer was airing someone’s dirty laundry. No one had ever blamed her for Aaron Echolls’ acquittal, at least not to her face, but she was still grateful she hadn’t had to see Duncan’s expression that day.
With ten minutes to closing time, she slid into a parking space and was out of the car almost before the tires stopped. Pulling out the envelopes, she frowned when she saw that none of the deposit amounts had been filled out. While she fumbled through her bag for a pen, she noticed the writing scrawled on the side. It looked like a name and today’s date.
“Get on the floor!” A voice screamed at her.
Fingers frozen around her pen, she looked up straight into the barrel of a shotgun and her heart nearly stopped. The man was easily a foot taller than her, broad shoulders, dressed completely head to toe in black with a black mask concealing even his eyes. Someone grabbed her roughly from behind and shoved her to the floor, a boot pressing down between her shoulder blades to keep her from moving. Gloved hands reached down to pull her bag away, rifling through it and pulling out her taser before tossing the bag back onto the floor.
She winced and tried not to panic, covertly trying to move enough to get a good look around the room. The rest of the customers and staff were on the floor, with one frenzied looking teller trying to meet the robbers’ shouted demands. Two pairs, no three, of heavy black boots marked the criminals and from the lack of blood, it didn’t appear they’d started shooting yet.
“Come on, man. You got enough! Let’s go!” the man with his foot on her back shouted.
“We go when I say!” his partner yelled back before turning back to the teller and waving the gun in her face. “Hurry up!”
“The police are gonna be here! Come on!” The boot tread dug a little harder into her back as he turned toward the front of the bank. Sure enough, there were sirens in the distance.
Veronica felt slightly relieved that at least one of them didn’t think a shootout at Neptune Bank was a good idea. All she had to do was not piss off anyone with a gun and keep her face to the floor. Her father couldn’t blame her for this one; there was no way she’d known that she was walking into an armed robbery. The envelope was still clutched tightly in her hand and the scrawled handwriting seemed to come into focus for the first time. Layla Dobbins. Teller. Oct. 23.
She risked moving her head enough to peer at the bank staff lying on the floor and one potential Layla stood out. A brunette with her hair pulled tight into a bun chewing her gum a little too casually. If this was an inside job and Ms. Dobbins was their gal, assuming that her father hadn’t written those words purely by chance, then it would explain why the Neptune Sheriff’s Department was actually on their way. The gloved hand reached down and yanked the envelope from her hand.
“Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” the third robber asked. That one sounded much more nervous than the other two and she was willing to bet his gloves hid a white-knuckle grip on his shotgun.
“We gotta get out of here now! The cops are already fucking here!”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Just trust me.”
“Alright.” Hauling the bag now stuffed with bills up over his shoulder, the gunman waved toward the door. “Bring the girl. Might need a hostage.”
“Bad idea, man.”
The gun leveled at the man holding her down. “Do it. And the rest of you, when the cops show up, tell ‘em she’ll get her pretty little head blown all to bits if they come after us.”
Veronica was too stunned to do more than stumble as he jerked her up onto her feet, his hand like a vise around her wrist. It felt like he was about to break her arm, twisting it behind her and pushing her ahead of him. As they burst out of the front doors, blinking against the sunlight, a dark green SUV screeched to a halt in front of them. She almost tripped stepping into the street, seeing flashing lights out of the corner of her eye an instant before the sirens began to wail. Her captor wrapped one around her waist and nearly tossed her into the back seat. Climbing in after her, he kept his hand firmly on the back of her neck, forcing her head down against her knees.
More squealing tires, the police sirens were loud enough to be ear-piercing even through metal and glass; she wrapped her arms around her knees and prayed to anyone or anything that this wasn’t going to the day that Veronica Mars finally used up all her lives.
***
“We lost them,” Sacks said apologetically, a little out of breath from his jog down the sidewalk to the crime scene perimeter.
Sheriff Lamb glanced at Keith Mars quickly, almost sympathetically. “Put out an APB and call Border Patrol. They’ll probably head for Mexico. We’ll catch them.”
Keith nodded, his gaze and his thoughts either a million miles away or focused entirely on the purse clutched tightly in his hands. “Which one’s Layla Dobbins?”
“Brunette at the end.” Lamb motioned toward the woman.
“I’d like to be there when you question her.”
“Look--”
“It’s the least you can do after you ignored information that allowed an armed robbery to take place,” Keith interrupted with icy fury. “My daughter was forced, at gunpoint, into that getaway car because you did nothing.”
Bristling visibly, Lamb straightened his shoulders and narrowed his eyes into a mocking glare. “If your information had been accompanied by any sort of actual proof, I would have listened to you. I don’t have all day to follow up on a bad dream you had last night.”
“Layla Dobbins is the key. She’s the inside man,” Keith continued as though he hadn’t heard a single word.
“Don’t you mean woman, sir?” Sacks asked. His gaze dropped under the withering look from Sheriff Lamb. “You want me to take her down to the station?”
“Why don’t you do that? Make her sit for a while. Maybe she’ll confess.” Lamb hesitated briefly when he turned back to Keith. “If you don’t mind, I’ve got a crime scene to process. You want to catch these guys, let us do our jobs.”
“You know where to find me,” he answered coldly.
Sacks waited for Keith to leave before stepping closer to Lamb. “Do you think they’ll hurt her, sir?”
Lamb shook his head. “I’m not that lucky.”
Chapter Three
Author: Aeneas
Rating: R (language, violence, death, attempted rape)
Summary: Veronica and Weevil share celebratory milkshakes after he gets out of prison, not knowing their lives are going to collide in a much darker way only days later. (10,066 words)
Spoilers: All of Season 2
Pairings: Veronica and Logan are still together but not “onscreen”.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Rob Thomas and all the wonderful people who make Veronica Mars possible.
Notes: It’s an odd fic. A lot more happens in the spaces between the words than in the words themselves. Despite my best attempts, it’s Veronica-centric. Also, you can expect a follow-up that is Weevil-centric, but probably not until November.
“Logan?” Whatever else Veronica might have been thinking about calling out were immediately forgotten when she recognized the willowy blonde seated on the sofa. She made sure there was a perfectly sweet smile on her face once she closed the door behind her and turned around. “Hannah. You’re back.”
“Hey, Veronica,” Hannah said nervously, waving a little.
“How was boarding school?”
“More like boring school.”
“And your dad doesn’t know you’re here? Which would be why you’re not on your way back to plaid skirts and dorm room pillow fights?” Veronica glanced around for any indication of Logan or maybe a big sign explaining why she’d arrived to find Hannah Griffiths in his hotel room.
“Dad’s cool now. He thought Logan killed that kid on the bridge, but now he knows it wasn’t really Logan.” Hannah smiled brightly, looking far too happy about that for Veronica’s taste. “But it’s okay. I mean, I know that you and Logan are back together and everything. And I’m not here to, you know, break you guys up. Just got back into town and wanted to see some old friends.”
She looked sweet and innocent enough that Veronica almost believed her. “And did Logan happen to mention where he was going?”
“He and Trina went out for pizza and then we were gonna watch a movie. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
It wasn’t. Logan hadn’t returned her calls and hadn’t left any messages; she hadn’t heard a peep from him since sending him off to duke it out with Trina and the accountants almost a week ago. Squashing the wriggling jealousy at the pit of her stomach, she smiled again. “Actually, that is why I’m here. My dad asked me to run a few errands and then I’ve got all this homework. I really can’t do the movie thing tonight. But if Trina’s choosing, that’s probably not my loss.”
Hannah’s face fell. “You’re not leaving because of me, are you? Because I don’t have to be here. I’m sure Logan would rather spend time with you.”
“I really do have errands.” She glanced at her watch without actually seeing it. “And I’d better get going. Tell Logan I’ll stop by if I manage to carve some free time out of my schedule.”
“Sure. Bye, Veronica.”
It wasn’t until she was standing in the elevator that her breathing resumed any attempt at normalcy. Only the bad musack playing softly heard her muttering about being stupid under her breath. The last thing she should be doing in the face of competition was running away. She should be digging in her heels and putting Logan on a leash if that’s what it took. Taking a deep breath and giving her mental self a good shake, she decided that the proper course of action was to go home and spend a little extra time on herself. And when she came back to the Neptune Grand, she intended to look as stunning as Veronica Mars was capable of looking.
She narrowed her options down to two outfits on the drive home and was mentally matching accessories as she let herself into the apartment. Her phone dinged the second she dropped her purse on the kitchen island and she grinned as she answered it. “You’d better have roses waiting when I get back.”
“I swear, calling you was the next thing on my list.” Logan sounded concerned and a tad guilty. “It was Trina’s idea and you know how her ideas usually go.”
“Like high heels in fresh tar. It’s cool.” The wriggling thing her stomach twinged at the casual dismissal but she ignored it. He’d called, he’d explained, that was all she expected from him.
“So you’re coming back? Hannah said you had errands?”
“They won’t take long. And I needed a shower anyway.” She glanced around for anything her father might have left on the island that needed to be taken care of. One of these days, Logan was going to call her on the errand excuse and she didn’t want to be caught unprepared. There were a couple deposit envelopes with the Mars Investigations logo and the name of their bank printed in bright ink. She grabbed them and stuffed them into her purse. “And I was serious about the roses.”
“What color and how many?”
“Red,” she laughed. “And you’d better have enough to redecorate.”
“Done.” When he paused, she could hear Trina and Hannah laughing in the background. “You’re sure you’re coming?”
“Save some pizza for me,” she said lightly before pulling the phone away from her ear and disconnecting. If luck was with her, Hannah would end up keeping Trina and Logan from clawing at each other and by the time Veronica arrived, Trina would be pleading headache as she exited stage left.
She scrawled a note to let her father know she’d taken care of the week’s deposits and hurried out the door. Somehow it felt less like lying if she actually did run an errand. This was the new and improved Veronica after all. The Veronica whose reputation would actually hold up in court without sounding like the lawyer was airing someone’s dirty laundry. No one had ever blamed her for Aaron Echolls’ acquittal, at least not to her face, but she was still grateful she hadn’t had to see Duncan’s expression that day.
With ten minutes to closing time, she slid into a parking space and was out of the car almost before the tires stopped. Pulling out the envelopes, she frowned when she saw that none of the deposit amounts had been filled out. While she fumbled through her bag for a pen, she noticed the writing scrawled on the side. It looked like a name and today’s date.
“Get on the floor!” A voice screamed at her.
Fingers frozen around her pen, she looked up straight into the barrel of a shotgun and her heart nearly stopped. The man was easily a foot taller than her, broad shoulders, dressed completely head to toe in black with a black mask concealing even his eyes. Someone grabbed her roughly from behind and shoved her to the floor, a boot pressing down between her shoulder blades to keep her from moving. Gloved hands reached down to pull her bag away, rifling through it and pulling out her taser before tossing the bag back onto the floor.
She winced and tried not to panic, covertly trying to move enough to get a good look around the room. The rest of the customers and staff were on the floor, with one frenzied looking teller trying to meet the robbers’ shouted demands. Two pairs, no three, of heavy black boots marked the criminals and from the lack of blood, it didn’t appear they’d started shooting yet.
“Come on, man. You got enough! Let’s go!” the man with his foot on her back shouted.
“We go when I say!” his partner yelled back before turning back to the teller and waving the gun in her face. “Hurry up!”
“The police are gonna be here! Come on!” The boot tread dug a little harder into her back as he turned toward the front of the bank. Sure enough, there were sirens in the distance.
Veronica felt slightly relieved that at least one of them didn’t think a shootout at Neptune Bank was a good idea. All she had to do was not piss off anyone with a gun and keep her face to the floor. Her father couldn’t blame her for this one; there was no way she’d known that she was walking into an armed robbery. The envelope was still clutched tightly in her hand and the scrawled handwriting seemed to come into focus for the first time. Layla Dobbins. Teller. Oct. 23.
She risked moving her head enough to peer at the bank staff lying on the floor and one potential Layla stood out. A brunette with her hair pulled tight into a bun chewing her gum a little too casually. If this was an inside job and Ms. Dobbins was their gal, assuming that her father hadn’t written those words purely by chance, then it would explain why the Neptune Sheriff’s Department was actually on their way. The gloved hand reached down and yanked the envelope from her hand.
“Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” the third robber asked. That one sounded much more nervous than the other two and she was willing to bet his gloves hid a white-knuckle grip on his shotgun.
“We gotta get out of here now! The cops are already fucking here!”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Just trust me.”
“Alright.” Hauling the bag now stuffed with bills up over his shoulder, the gunman waved toward the door. “Bring the girl. Might need a hostage.”
“Bad idea, man.”
The gun leveled at the man holding her down. “Do it. And the rest of you, when the cops show up, tell ‘em she’ll get her pretty little head blown all to bits if they come after us.”
Veronica was too stunned to do more than stumble as he jerked her up onto her feet, his hand like a vise around her wrist. It felt like he was about to break her arm, twisting it behind her and pushing her ahead of him. As they burst out of the front doors, blinking against the sunlight, a dark green SUV screeched to a halt in front of them. She almost tripped stepping into the street, seeing flashing lights out of the corner of her eye an instant before the sirens began to wail. Her captor wrapped one around her waist and nearly tossed her into the back seat. Climbing in after her, he kept his hand firmly on the back of her neck, forcing her head down against her knees.
More squealing tires, the police sirens were loud enough to be ear-piercing even through metal and glass; she wrapped her arms around her knees and prayed to anyone or anything that this wasn’t going to the day that Veronica Mars finally used up all her lives.
***
“We lost them,” Sacks said apologetically, a little out of breath from his jog down the sidewalk to the crime scene perimeter.
Sheriff Lamb glanced at Keith Mars quickly, almost sympathetically. “Put out an APB and call Border Patrol. They’ll probably head for Mexico. We’ll catch them.”
Keith nodded, his gaze and his thoughts either a million miles away or focused entirely on the purse clutched tightly in his hands. “Which one’s Layla Dobbins?”
“Brunette at the end.” Lamb motioned toward the woman.
“I’d like to be there when you question her.”
“Look--”
“It’s the least you can do after you ignored information that allowed an armed robbery to take place,” Keith interrupted with icy fury. “My daughter was forced, at gunpoint, into that getaway car because you did nothing.”
Bristling visibly, Lamb straightened his shoulders and narrowed his eyes into a mocking glare. “If your information had been accompanied by any sort of actual proof, I would have listened to you. I don’t have all day to follow up on a bad dream you had last night.”
“Layla Dobbins is the key. She’s the inside man,” Keith continued as though he hadn’t heard a single word.
“Don’t you mean woman, sir?” Sacks asked. His gaze dropped under the withering look from Sheriff Lamb. “You want me to take her down to the station?”
“Why don’t you do that? Make her sit for a while. Maybe she’ll confess.” Lamb hesitated briefly when he turned back to Keith. “If you don’t mind, I’ve got a crime scene to process. You want to catch these guys, let us do our jobs.”
“You know where to find me,” he answered coldly.
Sacks waited for Keith to leave before stepping closer to Lamb. “Do you think they’ll hurt her, sir?”
Lamb shook his head. “I’m not that lucky.”
Chapter Three