Fic: The Life You Choose (Weevil/Veronica, PG-13)
Title: The Life You Choose
Author: mandilyn
Pairing/Character: Weevil/Veronica
Word Count: 6,939
Rating: PG-13, for making out, mild language, and allusions to sexual activity.
Summary: In the end, every story is a hero's quest.
Spoilers/Warnings: This launches somewhere near the end of senior year, so spoilers through everything that's been aired.
Author's Notes: Mostly future-fic. The poem Veronica reads to Weevil is called First Poem for You by Kim Addonizio. Thanks to shealynn88 for the suggestions and the hand-holding. You are the best.
January 2007
Weevil surveys the faces of the boys he’s known his whole life, some of them just 16 years old, tears staining their faces and this is why he’d fought so hard to discover the connection to the Fitzpatricks. Sooner or later, if you lie down with dogs…
Weevil isn’t mad anymore that they jumped him or that they wrecked his bike; the wounds have healed and he has a new ride but the bitter taste of bile rises in his throat when he looks at the ruin Thumper’s indiscretion has caused.
Growing up in the neighborhood, they didn’t have much but they had each other and the PCHer’s always made sure there was enough to go around. It was about family, about honor. It wasn’t supposed to be about greed. Thumper changed all that and now he’s dead, set up to take the fall in a drug bust that went all wrong.
“This is our family,” he yells at them. “Do you understand that? This is why we don’t play nice with the Fitzpatrick’s. We protect the neighborhood. Do you get it now?”
Jose pipes up from his place near the back of the crowd, swallowing tears as he tries to yell at Weevil. “What about Echolls, Weevil? You still gonna deny you were…”
“Echolls didn’t kill Felix and blaming him isn’t going to bring Felix back. Look. You all wanted to follow Thumper and make a little extra cash, work with the micks - you had your way and Thumper’s dead,”
He looks around. They’re listening. He didn’t have a plan when he called them here, just knew that he had to do something. It’s clearer now that he’s talking to them, the things he needs to say.
“This isn’t what we’re about. We don’t make deals. We look out for each other, for family. We are all we have.”
There is no one to challenge his authority. The boys are still shaken, their leader not yet in the ground and it is Weevil’s words that calm them, remind them they don’t have to worry.
He starts back towards his car. “Lay low,” he shouts. “Nobody does anything until after the funeral, and everything goes through me.”
She’s in her car. She followed him. He’s not surprised. She’s crying.
#
March 2006
“Your paper was really good, Weevil. You didn’t really need that much help on it.” They are outside her father’s office the Friday before midterms.
He smiles at her. “Maybe not. Still, smartest girl in school? Can’t hurt to get an opinion.” He’s quiet a second. “How are you doing lately…with Duncan gone?” They are standing at his car. If the question surprises her, she’s hiding it well.
“I don’t know. He broke up with me at the top of his lungs in front of a huge crowd of my enemies and then skipped town, but I’m doing okay, all things considered.”
Weevil laughs sardonically. “You don’t think I buy that, V? Really? That act you guys put on?” His tone is accusatory. “He ran and you helped him.”
“What is this about?” She asks and then changes her mind. “No, you know what? I don’t even care. I’m not…”
He cuts her off. “Veronica, once upon a time, Duncan Kane skipped town and the ONLY person who could find him was you. Now he’s gone again and even the FBI can’t track him?” He pauses to judge her reaction but she’s giving nothing up. “I know you helped him leave you…”
The last barb cuts and she looks away, shakes her head. “Why are you pushing this?”
“Because you’re lying to me,” he shouts.
“Keep your voice down. God, what does it matter? What does it matter to you?”
“Veronica, you could go to jail.”
“He had to leave.”
He shakes his head in disgust.
“You know what, Weevil? You can judge me all you want. It won’t change the fact that it isn’t your business. I don’t need your help with this.”
“Whatever.” He slams the car door and leaves her standing there.
#
Veronica is standing at her table eating an apple and talking animatedly to Wallace. Weevil can’t hear her from where he’s sitting near the flagpole but it doesn’t matter because he’s happy just to watch her. He finds it oddly comforting to catch her at moments like this one. She carries herself differently, like she’s forgotten for a moment all the ugly truths she knows.
Wallace says something, throws his hands in the air and shakes his head at her. She doubles over in laughter and it makes Weevil smile. Her guard is down and in this moment she could be any girl on any high school campus.
She looks his way and catches him staring, smiles tentatively and waves.
She’s a lot like the giant houses the 09er’s live in with their black-bottom pools and their tennis courts; nice to look at but you learn early that you can’t dream yourself into one.
He gathers his things, nods and heads for the parking lot.
The show is over.
#
May 2006
“Not exactly everything you imagined, huh?” Veronica turns at his voice. She’d been wondering how long he was going to stand there without speaking to her…because he thought she couldn’t feel him watching her.
They haven’t spoken in over month and she’d stopped looking for him in the hallways.
“Oh, I think it’s everything you’d expect from a Neptune bash, don’t you?” If he’s going to play cool, so am I. “What are you doing here anyway? Senior prom isn’t exactly a gangster’s paradise.”
“I’m here with Carmen. We’ve been friends since before we were born and I take a nice picture.” He pastes on a Cheshire-esque smile and poses, one hand at the lapel of his jacket. He’s not wrong. “Our grandmothers play poker together every Saturday.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Lety Navarro a card shark?”
“Who do you think taught me?”
“Well, I’m here with Wallace, which is awesome because hello, he’s Wallace Fennel and he’s on the Prom court and he’s really popular and he can dance...” Her voice trails off.
The act is too exhausting and they both know that she’s thinking of Duncan. “You know, this night was supposed to be perfect, but then I didn’t think I’d be here with Wallace.” She’s turned back around, is staring out to the ocean again and though he gets the impression she isn’t talking to him anymore, he moves closer to her.
“Veronica, I’m sorry.”
“I just…I’m not mad at him,” she says emphatically. “I can’t be. I saw what they were doing to Meg’s little sister. I saw it, Weevil, and Meg was my friend.” There are tears threatening to spill from her eyes and Weevil is sure that he doesn’t know the right thing to say. “He named her Lilly, you know…and I just…this is like our second chance. I couldn’t protect Lilly. Helping Duncan, protecting his daughter. That’s something I could do.”
“Veronica, I’m sorry.” It’s a strangled whisper. “I was out of line.”
“You were right.” She turns to look at him. “You were right about all of it and I hated that you could see through me.”
Weevil doesn’t know what to say. Every conversation with Veronica is like a war for the last word and she just won. She turns back to the ocean and leans against the railing.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t be dumping all of this…”
“It’s okay,” he breathes. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.” She’s not shed a single tear but he knows she’s hanging by a thread. She’s got her armor on. He can see it and without thinking he puts his hands to her shoulders. She tenses at his touch.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers as he kneads gently the knots in the muscles surrounding her neck and feels her relax beneath his touch.
#
How it is that Weevil always shows up when she needs him…needs someone…she doesn’t know and that he understands so much of what she doesn’t say makes her feel safe and out of control at once. That lines have always been clearly drawn, how they argue, how they joke, is comforting so it knocks Veronica more than a little off balance that he’s whispering in her ear. He smells like cinnamon and his hands are warm on her bare shoulders, able and strong.
She sighs, searches for something to say but words won’t come. Weevil keeps apologizing, his mouth close to her ear, raising goose bumps on the back of her neck and sending warm pulses to her center.
She’s floating further from the music and party chatter inside when she feels his lips, soft and slightly open, sucking gently at her throat. She gasps, hears a soft moan escape her lips. It yanks her into the moment and she turns, searches his face. “What are you doing?” she asks. He looks scared…confused…she isn’t even sure. It’s an emotion she’s never seen in his face.
“I don’t know.” He steps back and the lines are drawn again but Veronica feels lost.
She scans the balcony and sees Wallace walking towards them. She isn’t sure what he saw but she steps back attempting to put more space between herself and Weevil.
“Veronica,” he starts but Wallace walks up and places himself between them.
“Veronica, what’s going on? I was looking all over for you.” He looks questioningly from her to Weevil.
She shakes her head. “I just needed some air.” She glances quickly at Weevil but the softness in his eyes is gone. She’s quiet a moment and Weevil rolls his eyes.
“I guess I’ll let you breath,” he says and stalks off before she can stop him.
#
He learned a long time ago that mixing business with pleasure was a bad idea. He has enough trouble staying out of trouble as it is, but he’s not blind. She’s beautiful and lately it’s been mixing him up.
She’s sitting on his porch, feet bare, strappy heels next to her on the concrete. She stands up as he opens the gate. It’s nearly 4 a.m. and he’s tired.
“I screwed up again, V. I get it. We don’t need to do this right now.”
“Why do you always try to run away from me when things get confusing?” she asks as she closes the distance between them. She pulls him to her, both hands at his neck, fingers grasping desperately at his skull as she kisses him. Her lips taste like vanilla, are sticky with gloss. He is overwhelmed and confused, just follows her lead and tries desperately to memorize the thrill of her tongue passing across his bottom lip even as she traces it across his smile.
He needs to breathe, curses himself as he pulls away. She steps back and considers him.
“What the hell was that?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.
#
Weevil didn’t get an immediate answer to his question after prom. It was a conversation that unfolded slowly over the weeks that followed as they stole moments in the auto shop and the AV room and the backseat of his car, but in the tangle of tongues and lips answers had been few.
He’s getting frustrated. She’s as soft as the persona she projects is hard. He’d always had fantasies about her, the hot shot, the outsider, the girl with all the answers, but the convergence of the dream with reality is getting to be more than he can stand and stolen moments aren’t enough.
She catches his eye from the other end of the hall and smiles. There are people everywhere but there is no mistaking that the smile is for him, an invitation. She walks deliberately to the bathroom, slapping the OUT OF ORDER sign on the door as she enters.
He waits.
He can see it in his mind, the way she checks each stall to be sure the room is empty and then sits on the counter, her feet dangling like a little kid’s. She would smile innocently when he walked in and act surprised at his advances...like she hadn’t planned it. She would smell like coconut and taste like vanilla and when he broke their first kiss and nuzzled her neck she would do the gigglebreathegiggle thing she always did when she was wrapped up in the moment. And when they were through he would want to talk a minute and she would joke and make him smile and the minute he tried to say anything real she’d check her watch and kiss him quickly and make a beeline for the door.
He waits at the locker across the hall...and waits. Thirty seconds pass, a minute, and then the door opens and she pulls the sign down she comes out. She quirks an eyebrow and gives him the “I’m smarter than you” smile as she crosses the hall.
“What gives?” she asks.
“Nothin’. I was waiting for you.”
”I was waiting for you. Didn’t you see the sign? You aren’t very good at this secret code game.” Shaking her head, she straightens the collar of his jacket flirtatiously, her fingers skimming his chest and it’s a chore, but he takes her wrists lightly and sets them to her side.
“We need to talk, Veronica.” He says it quietly, seriously. “I want to know what’s going on with us.”
“I hadn’t realized there was confusion about what we were doing,” she says, executing a perfect head tilt and pout combo. He shakes his head.
“Not gonna work this time, V.” He smiles. “It’ll get you a lot of places with me but I’m not Batman. You can’t just send up the signal and expect me to appear.”
“Weevil…” but he just smiles, puts one finger to her lips.
“You have a choice to make, Blondie. You know where to find me.” He leaves her standing there, because he knows what will happen if he doesn’t and he wants to be strong.
#
Veronica had watched Weevil walk down the hall, her cheeks burning hot from rejection. It hadn’t mattered that there wasn’t a single person in the hall who knew it happened. She felt like she’d been slapped.
Now, sitting at her table, she can’t stop looking at him. She can’t remember the last time he’d walked around school without his leather jacket but he’s standing in his wifebeather, arms crossed, talking to Carmen and a handful of her friends and he hasn’t looked Veronica’s way or acknowledged her at all but it doesn’t stop her from thinking he’s doing it on purpose.
“Earth to Mars.” Wallace waves a hand in front of her face and laughs. “That never stops being funny,” he says as she rolls her eyes. “Where are you? You have stars in your eyes or something.”
“What? No..I’m...” She tries to focus. Wallace has no idea what she’s been sneaking off to do in the past weeks. She hadn’t kept it from him on purpose...yes, she had; but now it seems silly.
“I kissed Weevil,” she says as casually as she can.
“YOU WHAT?!?!?” Wallace didn’t get the memo about “casual”. He turns and sees him standing there in his wifebeater and looks at Veronica with wide eyes. “Veronica...” He shakes his head, speechless and she decides to come clean.
“A lot.”
“Veronica...when?” and then a little too indignantly, “This is the same guy who took my clothes and...”
“Wallace, he didn’t know you then. He wouldn’t...Jackie told the whole school...”
“And I broke up with her!”
“But she knew me...knew we were friends. It’s not the same. It doesn’t matter.”
Wallace is quiet. He stares at her, hard and then asks the question. “So what...are you guys, like, dating now?”
“What? No...I don’t know.”
She doesn’t know.
The first time, after prom, she’d run into him in the hall and they’d stood smiling nervously, neither knowing what to say and then he’d pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her and it was weird, but good weird.
He’s sweet and when they pass in the hall he has this smile she’s never seen before and she feels like it might be one he saves for her and it makes her think things she tries to ignore, like maybe he would remember the kind of candy she likes at the movies or that she likes extra butter on the side of her popcorn for the kernels that don’t get hit on the first wave under the dispenser.
The weeks until graduation are broken into manageable chunks in Veronica’s mind and the closer it gets the easier it is for her to imagine herself finishing first, swiping the Kane scholarship, and getting hell out of Neptune. It makes it easier that she can count on one hand the people she’ll miss and she knows that she’ll never lose Wallace, no matter how far from home he roams, but she’s starting to wonder if she’s ready to say goodbye to Weevil...to Eli...to this boy she’s just getting to know.
She sighs and Wallace nods. “Wow. This is...really weird.”
“I know.”
He doesn’t say anything else and Veronica thinks she needs to do something. “Am I crazy?” she asks him and he nods again.
“Yeah. I think I might be.” She stands up. “I’ll be right back.”
Her legs are like jelly beneath her but her gut isn’t saying no as she walks across the quad. Carmen sees her first and waves.
“Hey Carmen. I need to borrow Weevil a second.” She grabs his hand and pulls him about two steps because if she waits any longer, she’ll lose it. She kisses him, trying hard to summon the courage she found after the prom and it helps that they’ve done this before and she can block out the sounds of the entire student body witnessing this act as he responds, puts a hand in her hair and kisses her back, hard. They find their groove and she loses herself in it for a moment, reaffirming all the reasons she’s doing it.
She breaks the kiss first and he’s surprised but smiling.
“I don’t know what we’re doing, Eli, but I think I’d like to find out,” she whispers and he nods.
“Good. Me too,” and he kisses her again, taking the lead and she lets him.
#
June 2006
He is sitting at the kitchen counter in Veronica’s apartment across from Keith Mars, crime fighter and father extraordinaire, wondering if the frosty bottles on the counter and sandwiches cut neatly from corner to corner were Veronica’s way of easing the tension in the room.
Weevil’s sat in jail cells and interrogation rooms and been attacked by his own gang but he’s never felt anything akin to the stone in the pit of his stomach right now.
Mr. Mars smiles genially. “So, Eli. Veronica says that you wanted to talk to me about something.” Weevil shows no emotion. He knows that Veronica briefed her father but of course, the good sheriff knows better than to lead the witness.
“Mr. Mars, I know you know the things I’ve done so I’m not going to pretend you don’t, but I want to make a couple of things clear. First, I would never hurt your daughter and second, right now, I’m more worried that you’ll say I can’t date her than that you’ll find out I’m a bigger villain that you thought.”
Keith Mars considers Weevil a moment and takes a long drag from the beer on the counter. “Eli, you’re a smart man.”
#
“He was never going to say no,” Veronica says lightly as they stroll to his car.
Weevil shakes his head, tries to believe her, but he isn’t sure he wouldn’t have said no if he was her father.
He knows this is his chance. Everything is different now.
#
July 2006
Veronica has been fussing with a box of photographs on her bed for over an hour and Weevil is lying on the floor tossing a tennis ball in the air and trying to stay cool in the sweltering heat.
“V, When are we going to the pool? It’s hotter than hell in here.”
“...says the guy who is hogging the fan.” She snatches the ball from the air. “In a minute. I’m almost done.”
“What are you doing anyway?” He sits up and pulls himself onto the bed beside her. She’s in shorts and a bikini top and he plays with the string around her neck, tugging gently at it until she brushes his hand away.
“I’m fixing my yearbook.” She hands it over, shaking her head at his mocking smile. “Don’t look at me like that. They gave it to me because they used a bunch of my pictures..but not enough, you know, so I had to fix it.”
“MEMORIES TO TREASURE” it proclaims in bright green letters and there are photos of students, Casablancas and Madison Sinclair, superimposed on the jewels that pour from a pirate’s treasure chest. It’s as cheesy as he’d have guessed and he remembers again why he’s never purchased one. No point for a guy like him anyway. Everything in Neptune is about appearance and the Pirate yearbook is just another way for the 09er’s to manipulate reality, to write history, to write guys like him out.
He flips through the book and finds that she has added pictures of Mac and Cassidy, of her and Duncan on Halloween, of her and Wallace at Christmas. They cover photos of the Neptune elite, pictures she doesn’t care about, people she will never talk to again.
Near the end of the activities section, on the two page spread devoted to the Winter Carnival, he finds the first picture of himself. He had been unaware of her, looking at a point past the camera and laughing as Ophelia leaned from his shoulders to whisper something in his ear, her Powerpuff Girls backpack slung over his shoulder.
The second picture, this one clipped to the bottom corner of the page is one he posed for, him smiling reluctantly in front of his car.
The rest of the pages tell the story of the last three months, the strip from the photo booth at Magic Mountain, pictures of them at the beach on their first real date, of them hanging out at Wallace’s house, which was weird but also oddly grown-up feeling as he hung out with his girlfriend and her family. The sight of them together, on film, moments captured forever still shock him a bit, all the evidence that he’s not dreaming.
Page after page of glossy pictures of 09er royals covered with black and white, sepia and color prints of Veronica and her friends seems a fitting way to end this chapter of their lives. Sometimes he pinches himself because things seem too good, too perfect to be true but the pictures tell the story and it’s real.
Veronica is quiet, her head on his shoulder as he flips through the book fingering the pictures and remembering. The front door opens and they both look up at her father’s voice calling Veronica.
“Hey Dad, we’re in here,” she answers easily.
“Hey Mr. Mars,” Weevil adds when he appears in the doorway.
“Hi Eli.” He crosses the room and kisses his daughter’s head. “Can you stay for dinner? I bought steaks.”
Weevil nods. It still feels unreal, this interaction, being welcome in her home, her life. When her father points at a black and white pciture of the two of them on the 4th of July and asks for a copy, Weevil can’t help but smile.
#
October 2006
They are lying on the sunken lawn at the center of Hearst’s campus, their fingers loosely entwined, enjoying the warm fall breeze. It’s the middle of the week and he’s playing hookie from the shop. He had surprised her with breakfast at eight in the morning.
“If we lie here like this much longer, I’m going to fall asleep.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” he answers bringing her hand to his mouth.
“There is though.” She sits up. “I have a class. I need to finish reading.”
“What are you reading?”
“Poetry. Intro to Lit.”
“Ooh. Sounds like fun.” He says, half-sarcastically. He rolls onto his side.
Veronica pulls a stack of handouts from her bag. “it’s not a big deal but I should look at them.”
He sits up behind her, pulling her close to him. “Let’s hear it.”
“Alright.” Veronica scans the first one. “Ooh, okay. This one looks good. I like to touch your tattoos in complete darkness...”
“I thought you were going to read poetry,” he says, his fingers teasing her waist. She laughs and looks over her shoulder, shushing him with a kiss.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Romeo. I am reading. I’m sure where they are, know by heart...you know, that’s true,” she says thoughtfully, putting the papers down.
“What?” He is lazily kissing her neck.
“I know your tattoos by heart...like when I kiss your throat and you get all shivery when I trace the letters with my tongue.” She shifts in his lap, turning to face him, the poetry assignment momentarily forgotten. She kisses him quickly and takes his sunglasses off.
“What are you doing?”
“Hi.”
He smiles at her. “Hi.”
“I’m glad you came today. I like your face.”
“Me too.”
“I like eating breakfast with you.” She kisses his bottom lip, feather light, and he takes it deeper, catching her lips as they linger too long. He can take control and stay right with her. She’s overwhelmed by the sense of him. He smells like the coconut oil he’d rubbed on his shoulders before they left her dorm and his mouth is sweet from the M&M’s in his pocket. She could lose herself in this moment, his tongue snaking in and around her own, a dance they’ve perfected.
“Read more,” he says almost into her mouth as he feels around for the papers behind her.
She picks up in the middle, ”When I pull you to me, taking you until we’re spent and quiet on the sheets, I love to kiss the pictures on your skin. They’ll last until you’re seared to ashes; whatever persists or turns to pain between us, they will still be there.”
He kisses her face and smoothes her hair as she reads. The sunken lawn is crowded with students reading, sleeping, throwing frisbies but the noisy afternoon sounds like a faraway place. They are so far from Neptune, from the 09er’s, from high school, from fear and death. “Neptune” and everything that went with it feels lightyears away. Weevil...Eli...is her only connection to that life in these quiet moments and she doesn’t want to run.
Her voice trails off as she finishes. She reads the last part to herself but Weevil doesn’t notice, too involved in covering every inch of her skin in kisses.
So much permanence is terrifying.
She loves him. She knows.
She loves him and she knows that there are no guarantees and she has loved before and hurt, but she loves him.
She doesn’t say it, but she will.
#
Christmas Eve 2006
It’s just after midnight and the pile of presents that were under the Navarro Christmas tree has been reduced to scattered shreds of silver and gold paper and flattened boxes. The uncles have moved to the back patio with a bottle of tequila and aunts and grandmothers are playing loteria around the long table they set up in the living room. Weevil’s sister is collecting discarded wrapping paper while her husband dispenses batteries to all the kids for remote control cars and portable CD players. Veronica is in the kitchen stubbornly scrubbing the last bits of stuck-on rice from a pot and concentrating too hard on the image of her father and her boyfriend christening his brand new pool table in the back room.
“I think that pot is clean, mi hija.” Grandma Lety lays a hand on Veronica’s shoulder and squeezes. “Are you okay?”
“He was so surprised,” she answers, trying to change the subject. “He had no idea. He thought you were going to give him money.”
“Sweetie, I’ve got this if you’d like to join them. Go. You’ve been helping me all night.”
Veronica turns and smiles. “It’s okay. He doesn’t want me out there. He’s mad at me.” She smiles lightly. They have been avoiding each other all day, playing nice to avoid sniping at each other in front of her father or his grandmother.
“It’s Christmas, Veronica. Nothing is so horrible that you should be apart tonight.”
“Ah, we’ll be alright. Just a little...difference of opinion and you know how stubborn he can be.” In reality, it was her stubborness and not his that had lead to the cold front between them.
“This is what I know about my grandson. He is fiercely loyal...and terrified of losing the people that he loves. And love is very difficult. Loving someone is the hardest thing you can choose to do in your life, because you must open the innermost chambers of your heart to an imperfect person and hope that they are careful enough to tread lightly.”
“Whatever you did, whatever he did, remember that you are both young, that you are both learning how to do this, and you love each other. You’ve changed his life, mi hijita, even if he is stubborn in showing it.” Veronica doesn’t try to hide the tears that well in her eyes as Eli’s grandma hugs her and she squeezes back and whispers a thank you in her ear.
“Get out there. Talk to him.” She takes the sponge from her hands and pushes her towards the door.
“Who’s winning?” she asks when she reaches the doorway and Veronica’s dad laughs.
“He’s going easy on me. I’m sure he’s holding back,” he says and Eli shakes his head.
“You’re a formidible opponent, sir.” He doesn’t look at Veronica, just turns to line up his next shot.
Veronica hugs her father and asks him quietly to excuse them, hoping it will rob her boyfriend of his chance to escape, and her father smiles and hands her his cue. “See if you can’t win my dollar back,” he says with a kiss.
She turns to Eli when her father is safely out of earshot. “I’m sorry,” she says as he sends two balls careening to the other end of the table.
“For what?” He rests his chin on his pool cue and looks at her pointedly.
“For getting scared...for getting edgy.” She’d been trying to deny it for weeks, trying to ignore his questions about her mood swings and short fuse, but he’d been right all along. She had been pulling away.
“I love you, Eli...so much it scares me sometimes. This relationship, the longer I’m in it, the more it makes sense and that scared me a little because when we started all this...I just...I didn’t think...”
“You didn’t think I was good for more than making out in a broom closet?”
“I didn’t think I was going to hang onto anything from my old life...and now, well. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
He’s leaning against the table, the cold indifference gone from his face. He grabs her by the belt loops and pulls her to him. “C’mere ma.” He wraps her up in a hug, pressing her body firmly against his own. “I love you. I am in love with you. I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers it, his breath hot on her skin. “Merry Christmas baby.”
She kisses him, still scared but sure he loves her.
#
January 2007
09er’s don’t care how the other half lives...or dies; but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t make the news. When Thumper’s death made the front page, when it was implied that the Fitzpatrick’s were somehow involved and under investigation, when Weevil didn’t answer his phone or return the five messages she’d left him, it wasn’t hard to figure out that something was going on..
They are sitting in her car. She’d followed him from his house, had dreaded the rumble of bikes she’d known was coming, couldn’t keep from crying as she’d listened to him rally the troops.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” she yells through her tears.
“What am I supposed to do, Veronica? These guys are my family,” he pleads.
“That family nearly killed you, or have you forgotten that? God, Eli, they’re dangerous.”
“I would never let them hurt you,” he says quietly.
“It isn’t me I’m worried about. What does it matter what they do? This isn’t your life anymore, Eli. You’re not one of them anymore. You don’t have to go back to that life. You don’t have to fight all the time.”
He shakes his head. “Veronica, I’m not going back to anything. This is who I’ve always been. It’s who I am.”
“It isn’t good enough for you...and it isn’t good enough for me.”
Weevil stares at her, a sadness in his eyes and shakes his head. “You really don’t understand.”
She’s stopped crying and she’s stopped yelling. “Explain it to me then,” she says quietly, trying to contain her anger. “Explain to me about commitment and choices...because if I recall correctly, you were the one who told me to stop being afraid, who showed me how to stop running. Where’s your commitment now, Weevil?” She spits the name out of her mouth and grips the steering wheel.
“Look. I never lied to you.” He’s raising his voice. “You’ve known who I am from the start. If you understood anything about me, you wouldn’t say that to me...not now.”
“If you understood anything about me...about us, I wouldn’t have to. Get out of my car,” she says firmly but she can’t hold the tears as she drives away.
#
Weevil is sitting on the porch smoking a cigarette. His grandmother takes it from his mouth and stamps it out. “Do not sit on my porch and advertise your dirty habits, por favor. I didn’t teach you that.”
“One cigarette in six months is not a habit, Grandma.”
”No me importa. I don’t want to see it. What are you sitting out here moping for?” She takes his chin in her hand and tips his face to look at him. “Elijah, you’ve been crying.”
He jerks his face from her grasp and stands up. “I’m not cryin'.”
He walks away from her to the edge of the porch but she follows him, rubbing his back and shaking her head.
“My little Elijah. You are so much like your father sometimes that it scares me, so tough, so afraid of what is inside of you.” He turns to look at her and she wipes a tear from his face. ”Mi hijo, do not hide your tears. That is not the man I’ve raised you to be.”
“What’s the point? Crying never got me anything…”
“Elijah, the tears are there to remind you that you are not dead inside.” She sighs heavily and continues quietly, “The only thing that can bring her back is you.”
He laughs bitterly, not surprised she’s read the situation perfectly. She always does. “She’s not coming back.”
”Mi hijo, she loves you.” She’s pleading now. “She loves you and you are breaking her heart…like you are breaking mine with all of this running around with your friends.”
Weevil wipes his eyes and shakes his head, a look of resolve settling across his face. “Uh uh. She’s gone…”
“Elijah, she sees what I see in you…not just who you are but everything you could be if only you would choose it.. Don’t let life happen to you, Elijah. Give her something to believe in.”
#
Late February 2007
He sits in his car for a long time, staring at her apartment, trying to gather the nerve to go up to the door. He didn’t see Keith coming or hear him until he knocked on the roof of the car. “Were you going to come up or should I call the sheriff and report a stalker, Eli?” Weevil’s not sure he’s not joking.
“Uh...yeah. I was going to come up...if that’s okay with you...I was going to...I was thinking.” His tongue is in knots and he thinks this is a mistake.
“Well, Veronica isn’t here right now but...”
“That’s okay, I wanted to talk to you.” At this, her father looks at the roses on the passenger seat and raises an eyebrow.
“That’s thoughtful, Eli, but roses aren’t reallly my thing. I’m more a tulip man.” Weevil laughs nervously and opens the door.
“No, these are for Veronica. But I wanted to talk to you first.” They walk up the stairs together and Veronica’s father lets him into the house.
“I don’t know everything that happened with the two of you, Eli, but I’ve been keeping an eye on you and I know that you’re staying out of trouble. Just so you know that.” He pulls two beers from the fridge and sits down. “What did you want to talk to me about.”
“Mr. Mars...I screwed up. And I hurt your daughter...and I don’t know if she is ever going to forgive me but I wanted to apologize to you...and to her, with your permission.” Kieth Mars takes a long drink of his beer and considers Weevil.
“Look, Eli. Here’s the thing. Veronica is my family...and I would do anything to protect to her, to keep her from harm. And if someone hurts her, there’s nothing that I want to do more than hurt them right back, to make them pay.” Weevil starts to get nervous, wonders how fast he could run out of the apartment and if he might break a bone jumping over the railing from the second story. A nagging voice at the back of his head reminds him that this seemed like a bad idea. He takes a deep breath.
Mr. Mars is still talking and Weevil tries to focus. “I don’t think it was the brightest idea you’ve ever had, trying to get your gang back under control, because you’re not a child and you should be thinking about your future. But I understand the feeling, wanting to protect your family. And like I said, someone was hurting Veronica? I’d want to kill them.” He sets his beer down and approaches Weevil but he doesn’t feel the need to run, doesn’t feel threatened.
“Eli, you’re still young. You’re a good guy. You can be whatever you want. Don’t forget that.” He squeezes his shoulder and Weevil doesn’t know what to say. “I don’t know what she’s going to say about it, but you absolutely have my permission to speak to Veronica when she gets home.” He leaves him standing in the kitchen, stunned into silence, still holding the flowers he’d brought as a peace offering,
#
Veronica’s heart surges with a mix of confusing emotions when she sees his car in the parking lot. She hasn’t spoken to him in a month and though she knows that nothing happened with the PCHer’s, he never came around. She misses him...and she’s angry and she doesn’t know what to say to him.
“Dad, I’m home,” she calls as she comes through the door, doing her best not to notice him standing at the counter but he doesn’t wait for her to say hello.
“Veronica.” He’s in a jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, with bright white sneakers and it’s nothing special but she still gets a rush looking at him.
“You’re growing your hair out?” she asks and he rubs his head.
“Oh, yeah. Not really on purpose. Just having a lazy week, I guess.”
“I see. What are you doing here?”
“These are for you,” he says, thrusting the flowers at her.
“Weevil...what are you doing? You can’t just...”
“I’m sorry.” He says it quietly and then again, louder. “I’m sorry.” She takes the flowers and carries them to the sink.
“For what?” she asks him because she’s missed him for a month and she’s angry and she doesn’t want to make it easy.
“...because I got scared. Because something really big happened and I didn’t know what to do with it and I didn’t stop to think about the ways it was going to affect you.” He shakes his head and walks to the couch. “Because the first time I had the chance, I didn’t choose you.”
Sitting down next to him, Veronica is most bothered with herself, that she so wants to forgive him, that she’s missed him so completely in the last weeks. As she’d watched him with his old friends, in his old jacket, talking the old talk, she’d been terrified, had felt him slipping out of her hands with every word and when he crawled out of her car that night, she’d felt betrayed and alone.
She still feels those things...but she doesn’t want to run.
“You really hurt me,” she whispers but she knows she will forgive him. This is what Lety had meant when she said that love was hard.
She’s still hurt but she knows that they will be okay, that this is a love worth all the risks and she’s scared, but she thinks that might be a good thing.
“Never again,” he whispers, kissing her forehead, and it sounds like a promise he wants to keep.
Author: mandilyn
Pairing/Character: Weevil/Veronica
Word Count: 6,939
Rating: PG-13, for making out, mild language, and allusions to sexual activity.
Summary: In the end, every story is a hero's quest.
Spoilers/Warnings: This launches somewhere near the end of senior year, so spoilers through everything that's been aired.
Author's Notes: Mostly future-fic. The poem Veronica reads to Weevil is called First Poem for You by Kim Addonizio. Thanks to shealynn88 for the suggestions and the hand-holding. You are the best.
January 2007
Weevil surveys the faces of the boys he’s known his whole life, some of them just 16 years old, tears staining their faces and this is why he’d fought so hard to discover the connection to the Fitzpatricks. Sooner or later, if you lie down with dogs…
Weevil isn’t mad anymore that they jumped him or that they wrecked his bike; the wounds have healed and he has a new ride but the bitter taste of bile rises in his throat when he looks at the ruin Thumper’s indiscretion has caused.
Growing up in the neighborhood, they didn’t have much but they had each other and the PCHer’s always made sure there was enough to go around. It was about family, about honor. It wasn’t supposed to be about greed. Thumper changed all that and now he’s dead, set up to take the fall in a drug bust that went all wrong.
“This is our family,” he yells at them. “Do you understand that? This is why we don’t play nice with the Fitzpatrick’s. We protect the neighborhood. Do you get it now?”
Jose pipes up from his place near the back of the crowd, swallowing tears as he tries to yell at Weevil. “What about Echolls, Weevil? You still gonna deny you were…”
“Echolls didn’t kill Felix and blaming him isn’t going to bring Felix back. Look. You all wanted to follow Thumper and make a little extra cash, work with the micks - you had your way and Thumper’s dead,”
He looks around. They’re listening. He didn’t have a plan when he called them here, just knew that he had to do something. It’s clearer now that he’s talking to them, the things he needs to say.
“This isn’t what we’re about. We don’t make deals. We look out for each other, for family. We are all we have.”
There is no one to challenge his authority. The boys are still shaken, their leader not yet in the ground and it is Weevil’s words that calm them, remind them they don’t have to worry.
He starts back towards his car. “Lay low,” he shouts. “Nobody does anything until after the funeral, and everything goes through me.”
She’s in her car. She followed him. He’s not surprised. She’s crying.
#
March 2006
“Your paper was really good, Weevil. You didn’t really need that much help on it.” They are outside her father’s office the Friday before midterms.
He smiles at her. “Maybe not. Still, smartest girl in school? Can’t hurt to get an opinion.” He’s quiet a second. “How are you doing lately…with Duncan gone?” They are standing at his car. If the question surprises her, she’s hiding it well.
“I don’t know. He broke up with me at the top of his lungs in front of a huge crowd of my enemies and then skipped town, but I’m doing okay, all things considered.”
Weevil laughs sardonically. “You don’t think I buy that, V? Really? That act you guys put on?” His tone is accusatory. “He ran and you helped him.”
“What is this about?” She asks and then changes her mind. “No, you know what? I don’t even care. I’m not…”
He cuts her off. “Veronica, once upon a time, Duncan Kane skipped town and the ONLY person who could find him was you. Now he’s gone again and even the FBI can’t track him?” He pauses to judge her reaction but she’s giving nothing up. “I know you helped him leave you…”
The last barb cuts and she looks away, shakes her head. “Why are you pushing this?”
“Because you’re lying to me,” he shouts.
“Keep your voice down. God, what does it matter? What does it matter to you?”
“Veronica, you could go to jail.”
“He had to leave.”
He shakes his head in disgust.
“You know what, Weevil? You can judge me all you want. It won’t change the fact that it isn’t your business. I don’t need your help with this.”
“Whatever.” He slams the car door and leaves her standing there.
#
Veronica is standing at her table eating an apple and talking animatedly to Wallace. Weevil can’t hear her from where he’s sitting near the flagpole but it doesn’t matter because he’s happy just to watch her. He finds it oddly comforting to catch her at moments like this one. She carries herself differently, like she’s forgotten for a moment all the ugly truths she knows.
Wallace says something, throws his hands in the air and shakes his head at her. She doubles over in laughter and it makes Weevil smile. Her guard is down and in this moment she could be any girl on any high school campus.
She looks his way and catches him staring, smiles tentatively and waves.
She’s a lot like the giant houses the 09er’s live in with their black-bottom pools and their tennis courts; nice to look at but you learn early that you can’t dream yourself into one.
He gathers his things, nods and heads for the parking lot.
The show is over.
#
May 2006
“Not exactly everything you imagined, huh?” Veronica turns at his voice. She’d been wondering how long he was going to stand there without speaking to her…because he thought she couldn’t feel him watching her.
They haven’t spoken in over month and she’d stopped looking for him in the hallways.
“Oh, I think it’s everything you’d expect from a Neptune bash, don’t you?” If he’s going to play cool, so am I. “What are you doing here anyway? Senior prom isn’t exactly a gangster’s paradise.”
“I’m here with Carmen. We’ve been friends since before we were born and I take a nice picture.” He pastes on a Cheshire-esque smile and poses, one hand at the lapel of his jacket. He’s not wrong. “Our grandmothers play poker together every Saturday.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Lety Navarro a card shark?”
“Who do you think taught me?”
“Well, I’m here with Wallace, which is awesome because hello, he’s Wallace Fennel and he’s on the Prom court and he’s really popular and he can dance...” Her voice trails off.
The act is too exhausting and they both know that she’s thinking of Duncan. “You know, this night was supposed to be perfect, but then I didn’t think I’d be here with Wallace.” She’s turned back around, is staring out to the ocean again and though he gets the impression she isn’t talking to him anymore, he moves closer to her.
“Veronica, I’m sorry.”
“I just…I’m not mad at him,” she says emphatically. “I can’t be. I saw what they were doing to Meg’s little sister. I saw it, Weevil, and Meg was my friend.” There are tears threatening to spill from her eyes and Weevil is sure that he doesn’t know the right thing to say. “He named her Lilly, you know…and I just…this is like our second chance. I couldn’t protect Lilly. Helping Duncan, protecting his daughter. That’s something I could do.”
“Veronica, I’m sorry.” It’s a strangled whisper. “I was out of line.”
“You were right.” She turns to look at him. “You were right about all of it and I hated that you could see through me.”
Weevil doesn’t know what to say. Every conversation with Veronica is like a war for the last word and she just won. She turns back to the ocean and leans against the railing.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t be dumping all of this…”
“It’s okay,” he breathes. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.” She’s not shed a single tear but he knows she’s hanging by a thread. She’s got her armor on. He can see it and without thinking he puts his hands to her shoulders. She tenses at his touch.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers as he kneads gently the knots in the muscles surrounding her neck and feels her relax beneath his touch.
#
How it is that Weevil always shows up when she needs him…needs someone…she doesn’t know and that he understands so much of what she doesn’t say makes her feel safe and out of control at once. That lines have always been clearly drawn, how they argue, how they joke, is comforting so it knocks Veronica more than a little off balance that he’s whispering in her ear. He smells like cinnamon and his hands are warm on her bare shoulders, able and strong.
She sighs, searches for something to say but words won’t come. Weevil keeps apologizing, his mouth close to her ear, raising goose bumps on the back of her neck and sending warm pulses to her center.
She’s floating further from the music and party chatter inside when she feels his lips, soft and slightly open, sucking gently at her throat. She gasps, hears a soft moan escape her lips. It yanks her into the moment and she turns, searches his face. “What are you doing?” she asks. He looks scared…confused…she isn’t even sure. It’s an emotion she’s never seen in his face.
“I don’t know.” He steps back and the lines are drawn again but Veronica feels lost.
She scans the balcony and sees Wallace walking towards them. She isn’t sure what he saw but she steps back attempting to put more space between herself and Weevil.
“Veronica,” he starts but Wallace walks up and places himself between them.
“Veronica, what’s going on? I was looking all over for you.” He looks questioningly from her to Weevil.
She shakes her head. “I just needed some air.” She glances quickly at Weevil but the softness in his eyes is gone. She’s quiet a moment and Weevil rolls his eyes.
“I guess I’ll let you breath,” he says and stalks off before she can stop him.
#
He learned a long time ago that mixing business with pleasure was a bad idea. He has enough trouble staying out of trouble as it is, but he’s not blind. She’s beautiful and lately it’s been mixing him up.
She’s sitting on his porch, feet bare, strappy heels next to her on the concrete. She stands up as he opens the gate. It’s nearly 4 a.m. and he’s tired.
“I screwed up again, V. I get it. We don’t need to do this right now.”
“Why do you always try to run away from me when things get confusing?” she asks as she closes the distance between them. She pulls him to her, both hands at his neck, fingers grasping desperately at his skull as she kisses him. Her lips taste like vanilla, are sticky with gloss. He is overwhelmed and confused, just follows her lead and tries desperately to memorize the thrill of her tongue passing across his bottom lip even as she traces it across his smile.
He needs to breathe, curses himself as he pulls away. She steps back and considers him.
“What the hell was that?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.
#
Weevil didn’t get an immediate answer to his question after prom. It was a conversation that unfolded slowly over the weeks that followed as they stole moments in the auto shop and the AV room and the backseat of his car, but in the tangle of tongues and lips answers had been few.
He’s getting frustrated. She’s as soft as the persona she projects is hard. He’d always had fantasies about her, the hot shot, the outsider, the girl with all the answers, but the convergence of the dream with reality is getting to be more than he can stand and stolen moments aren’t enough.
She catches his eye from the other end of the hall and smiles. There are people everywhere but there is no mistaking that the smile is for him, an invitation. She walks deliberately to the bathroom, slapping the OUT OF ORDER sign on the door as she enters.
He waits.
He can see it in his mind, the way she checks each stall to be sure the room is empty and then sits on the counter, her feet dangling like a little kid’s. She would smile innocently when he walked in and act surprised at his advances...like she hadn’t planned it. She would smell like coconut and taste like vanilla and when he broke their first kiss and nuzzled her neck she would do the gigglebreathegiggle thing she always did when she was wrapped up in the moment. And when they were through he would want to talk a minute and she would joke and make him smile and the minute he tried to say anything real she’d check her watch and kiss him quickly and make a beeline for the door.
He waits at the locker across the hall...and waits. Thirty seconds pass, a minute, and then the door opens and she pulls the sign down she comes out. She quirks an eyebrow and gives him the “I’m smarter than you” smile as she crosses the hall.
“What gives?” she asks.
“Nothin’. I was waiting for you.”
”I was waiting for you. Didn’t you see the sign? You aren’t very good at this secret code game.” Shaking her head, she straightens the collar of his jacket flirtatiously, her fingers skimming his chest and it’s a chore, but he takes her wrists lightly and sets them to her side.
“We need to talk, Veronica.” He says it quietly, seriously. “I want to know what’s going on with us.”
“I hadn’t realized there was confusion about what we were doing,” she says, executing a perfect head tilt and pout combo. He shakes his head.
“Not gonna work this time, V.” He smiles. “It’ll get you a lot of places with me but I’m not Batman. You can’t just send up the signal and expect me to appear.”
“Weevil…” but he just smiles, puts one finger to her lips.
“You have a choice to make, Blondie. You know where to find me.” He leaves her standing there, because he knows what will happen if he doesn’t and he wants to be strong.
#
Veronica had watched Weevil walk down the hall, her cheeks burning hot from rejection. It hadn’t mattered that there wasn’t a single person in the hall who knew it happened. She felt like she’d been slapped.
Now, sitting at her table, she can’t stop looking at him. She can’t remember the last time he’d walked around school without his leather jacket but he’s standing in his wifebeather, arms crossed, talking to Carmen and a handful of her friends and he hasn’t looked Veronica’s way or acknowledged her at all but it doesn’t stop her from thinking he’s doing it on purpose.
“Earth to Mars.” Wallace waves a hand in front of her face and laughs. “That never stops being funny,” he says as she rolls her eyes. “Where are you? You have stars in your eyes or something.”
“What? No..I’m...” She tries to focus. Wallace has no idea what she’s been sneaking off to do in the past weeks. She hadn’t kept it from him on purpose...yes, she had; but now it seems silly.
“I kissed Weevil,” she says as casually as she can.
“YOU WHAT?!?!?” Wallace didn’t get the memo about “casual”. He turns and sees him standing there in his wifebeater and looks at Veronica with wide eyes. “Veronica...” He shakes his head, speechless and she decides to come clean.
“A lot.”
“Veronica...when?” and then a little too indignantly, “This is the same guy who took my clothes and...”
“Wallace, he didn’t know you then. He wouldn’t...Jackie told the whole school...”
“And I broke up with her!”
“But she knew me...knew we were friends. It’s not the same. It doesn’t matter.”
Wallace is quiet. He stares at her, hard and then asks the question. “So what...are you guys, like, dating now?”
“What? No...I don’t know.”
She doesn’t know.
The first time, after prom, she’d run into him in the hall and they’d stood smiling nervously, neither knowing what to say and then he’d pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her and it was weird, but good weird.
He’s sweet and when they pass in the hall he has this smile she’s never seen before and she feels like it might be one he saves for her and it makes her think things she tries to ignore, like maybe he would remember the kind of candy she likes at the movies or that she likes extra butter on the side of her popcorn for the kernels that don’t get hit on the first wave under the dispenser.
The weeks until graduation are broken into manageable chunks in Veronica’s mind and the closer it gets the easier it is for her to imagine herself finishing first, swiping the Kane scholarship, and getting hell out of Neptune. It makes it easier that she can count on one hand the people she’ll miss and she knows that she’ll never lose Wallace, no matter how far from home he roams, but she’s starting to wonder if she’s ready to say goodbye to Weevil...to Eli...to this boy she’s just getting to know.
She sighs and Wallace nods. “Wow. This is...really weird.”
“I know.”
He doesn’t say anything else and Veronica thinks she needs to do something. “Am I crazy?” she asks him and he nods again.
“Yeah. I think I might be.” She stands up. “I’ll be right back.”
Her legs are like jelly beneath her but her gut isn’t saying no as she walks across the quad. Carmen sees her first and waves.
“Hey Carmen. I need to borrow Weevil a second.” She grabs his hand and pulls him about two steps because if she waits any longer, she’ll lose it. She kisses him, trying hard to summon the courage she found after the prom and it helps that they’ve done this before and she can block out the sounds of the entire student body witnessing this act as he responds, puts a hand in her hair and kisses her back, hard. They find their groove and she loses herself in it for a moment, reaffirming all the reasons she’s doing it.
She breaks the kiss first and he’s surprised but smiling.
“I don’t know what we’re doing, Eli, but I think I’d like to find out,” she whispers and he nods.
“Good. Me too,” and he kisses her again, taking the lead and she lets him.
#
June 2006
He is sitting at the kitchen counter in Veronica’s apartment across from Keith Mars, crime fighter and father extraordinaire, wondering if the frosty bottles on the counter and sandwiches cut neatly from corner to corner were Veronica’s way of easing the tension in the room.
Weevil’s sat in jail cells and interrogation rooms and been attacked by his own gang but he’s never felt anything akin to the stone in the pit of his stomach right now.
Mr. Mars smiles genially. “So, Eli. Veronica says that you wanted to talk to me about something.” Weevil shows no emotion. He knows that Veronica briefed her father but of course, the good sheriff knows better than to lead the witness.
“Mr. Mars, I know you know the things I’ve done so I’m not going to pretend you don’t, but I want to make a couple of things clear. First, I would never hurt your daughter and second, right now, I’m more worried that you’ll say I can’t date her than that you’ll find out I’m a bigger villain that you thought.”
Keith Mars considers Weevil a moment and takes a long drag from the beer on the counter. “Eli, you’re a smart man.”
#
“He was never going to say no,” Veronica says lightly as they stroll to his car.
Weevil shakes his head, tries to believe her, but he isn’t sure he wouldn’t have said no if he was her father.
He knows this is his chance. Everything is different now.
#
July 2006
Veronica has been fussing with a box of photographs on her bed for over an hour and Weevil is lying on the floor tossing a tennis ball in the air and trying to stay cool in the sweltering heat.
“V, When are we going to the pool? It’s hotter than hell in here.”
“...says the guy who is hogging the fan.” She snatches the ball from the air. “In a minute. I’m almost done.”
“What are you doing anyway?” He sits up and pulls himself onto the bed beside her. She’s in shorts and a bikini top and he plays with the string around her neck, tugging gently at it until she brushes his hand away.
“I’m fixing my yearbook.” She hands it over, shaking her head at his mocking smile. “Don’t look at me like that. They gave it to me because they used a bunch of my pictures..but not enough, you know, so I had to fix it.”
“MEMORIES TO TREASURE” it proclaims in bright green letters and there are photos of students, Casablancas and Madison Sinclair, superimposed on the jewels that pour from a pirate’s treasure chest. It’s as cheesy as he’d have guessed and he remembers again why he’s never purchased one. No point for a guy like him anyway. Everything in Neptune is about appearance and the Pirate yearbook is just another way for the 09er’s to manipulate reality, to write history, to write guys like him out.
He flips through the book and finds that she has added pictures of Mac and Cassidy, of her and Duncan on Halloween, of her and Wallace at Christmas. They cover photos of the Neptune elite, pictures she doesn’t care about, people she will never talk to again.
Near the end of the activities section, on the two page spread devoted to the Winter Carnival, he finds the first picture of himself. He had been unaware of her, looking at a point past the camera and laughing as Ophelia leaned from his shoulders to whisper something in his ear, her Powerpuff Girls backpack slung over his shoulder.
The second picture, this one clipped to the bottom corner of the page is one he posed for, him smiling reluctantly in front of his car.
The rest of the pages tell the story of the last three months, the strip from the photo booth at Magic Mountain, pictures of them at the beach on their first real date, of them hanging out at Wallace’s house, which was weird but also oddly grown-up feeling as he hung out with his girlfriend and her family. The sight of them together, on film, moments captured forever still shock him a bit, all the evidence that he’s not dreaming.
Page after page of glossy pictures of 09er royals covered with black and white, sepia and color prints of Veronica and her friends seems a fitting way to end this chapter of their lives. Sometimes he pinches himself because things seem too good, too perfect to be true but the pictures tell the story and it’s real.
Veronica is quiet, her head on his shoulder as he flips through the book fingering the pictures and remembering. The front door opens and they both look up at her father’s voice calling Veronica.
“Hey Dad, we’re in here,” she answers easily.
“Hey Mr. Mars,” Weevil adds when he appears in the doorway.
“Hi Eli.” He crosses the room and kisses his daughter’s head. “Can you stay for dinner? I bought steaks.”
Weevil nods. It still feels unreal, this interaction, being welcome in her home, her life. When her father points at a black and white pciture of the two of them on the 4th of July and asks for a copy, Weevil can’t help but smile.
#
October 2006
They are lying on the sunken lawn at the center of Hearst’s campus, their fingers loosely entwined, enjoying the warm fall breeze. It’s the middle of the week and he’s playing hookie from the shop. He had surprised her with breakfast at eight in the morning.
“If we lie here like this much longer, I’m going to fall asleep.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” he answers bringing her hand to his mouth.
“There is though.” She sits up. “I have a class. I need to finish reading.”
“What are you reading?”
“Poetry. Intro to Lit.”
“Ooh. Sounds like fun.” He says, half-sarcastically. He rolls onto his side.
Veronica pulls a stack of handouts from her bag. “it’s not a big deal but I should look at them.”
He sits up behind her, pulling her close to him. “Let’s hear it.”
“Alright.” Veronica scans the first one. “Ooh, okay. This one looks good. I like to touch your tattoos in complete darkness...”
“I thought you were going to read poetry,” he says, his fingers teasing her waist. She laughs and looks over her shoulder, shushing him with a kiss.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Romeo. I am reading. I’m sure where they are, know by heart...you know, that’s true,” she says thoughtfully, putting the papers down.
“What?” He is lazily kissing her neck.
“I know your tattoos by heart...like when I kiss your throat and you get all shivery when I trace the letters with my tongue.” She shifts in his lap, turning to face him, the poetry assignment momentarily forgotten. She kisses him quickly and takes his sunglasses off.
“What are you doing?”
“Hi.”
He smiles at her. “Hi.”
“I’m glad you came today. I like your face.”
“Me too.”
“I like eating breakfast with you.” She kisses his bottom lip, feather light, and he takes it deeper, catching her lips as they linger too long. He can take control and stay right with her. She’s overwhelmed by the sense of him. He smells like the coconut oil he’d rubbed on his shoulders before they left her dorm and his mouth is sweet from the M&M’s in his pocket. She could lose herself in this moment, his tongue snaking in and around her own, a dance they’ve perfected.
“Read more,” he says almost into her mouth as he feels around for the papers behind her.
She picks up in the middle, ”When I pull you to me, taking you until we’re spent and quiet on the sheets, I love to kiss the pictures on your skin. They’ll last until you’re seared to ashes; whatever persists or turns to pain between us, they will still be there.”
He kisses her face and smoothes her hair as she reads. The sunken lawn is crowded with students reading, sleeping, throwing frisbies but the noisy afternoon sounds like a faraway place. They are so far from Neptune, from the 09er’s, from high school, from fear and death. “Neptune” and everything that went with it feels lightyears away. Weevil...Eli...is her only connection to that life in these quiet moments and she doesn’t want to run.
Her voice trails off as she finishes. She reads the last part to herself but Weevil doesn’t notice, too involved in covering every inch of her skin in kisses.
So much permanence is terrifying.
She loves him. She knows.
She loves him and she knows that there are no guarantees and she has loved before and hurt, but she loves him.
She doesn’t say it, but she will.
#
Christmas Eve 2006
It’s just after midnight and the pile of presents that were under the Navarro Christmas tree has been reduced to scattered shreds of silver and gold paper and flattened boxes. The uncles have moved to the back patio with a bottle of tequila and aunts and grandmothers are playing loteria around the long table they set up in the living room. Weevil’s sister is collecting discarded wrapping paper while her husband dispenses batteries to all the kids for remote control cars and portable CD players. Veronica is in the kitchen stubbornly scrubbing the last bits of stuck-on rice from a pot and concentrating too hard on the image of her father and her boyfriend christening his brand new pool table in the back room.
“I think that pot is clean, mi hija.” Grandma Lety lays a hand on Veronica’s shoulder and squeezes. “Are you okay?”
“He was so surprised,” she answers, trying to change the subject. “He had no idea. He thought you were going to give him money.”
“Sweetie, I’ve got this if you’d like to join them. Go. You’ve been helping me all night.”
Veronica turns and smiles. “It’s okay. He doesn’t want me out there. He’s mad at me.” She smiles lightly. They have been avoiding each other all day, playing nice to avoid sniping at each other in front of her father or his grandmother.
“It’s Christmas, Veronica. Nothing is so horrible that you should be apart tonight.”
“Ah, we’ll be alright. Just a little...difference of opinion and you know how stubborn he can be.” In reality, it was her stubborness and not his that had lead to the cold front between them.
“This is what I know about my grandson. He is fiercely loyal...and terrified of losing the people that he loves. And love is very difficult. Loving someone is the hardest thing you can choose to do in your life, because you must open the innermost chambers of your heart to an imperfect person and hope that they are careful enough to tread lightly.”
“Whatever you did, whatever he did, remember that you are both young, that you are both learning how to do this, and you love each other. You’ve changed his life, mi hijita, even if he is stubborn in showing it.” Veronica doesn’t try to hide the tears that well in her eyes as Eli’s grandma hugs her and she squeezes back and whispers a thank you in her ear.
“Get out there. Talk to him.” She takes the sponge from her hands and pushes her towards the door.
“Who’s winning?” she asks when she reaches the doorway and Veronica’s dad laughs.
“He’s going easy on me. I’m sure he’s holding back,” he says and Eli shakes his head.
“You’re a formidible opponent, sir.” He doesn’t look at Veronica, just turns to line up his next shot.
Veronica hugs her father and asks him quietly to excuse them, hoping it will rob her boyfriend of his chance to escape, and her father smiles and hands her his cue. “See if you can’t win my dollar back,” he says with a kiss.
She turns to Eli when her father is safely out of earshot. “I’m sorry,” she says as he sends two balls careening to the other end of the table.
“For what?” He rests his chin on his pool cue and looks at her pointedly.
“For getting scared...for getting edgy.” She’d been trying to deny it for weeks, trying to ignore his questions about her mood swings and short fuse, but he’d been right all along. She had been pulling away.
“I love you, Eli...so much it scares me sometimes. This relationship, the longer I’m in it, the more it makes sense and that scared me a little because when we started all this...I just...I didn’t think...”
“You didn’t think I was good for more than making out in a broom closet?”
“I didn’t think I was going to hang onto anything from my old life...and now, well. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
He’s leaning against the table, the cold indifference gone from his face. He grabs her by the belt loops and pulls her to him. “C’mere ma.” He wraps her up in a hug, pressing her body firmly against his own. “I love you. I am in love with you. I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers it, his breath hot on her skin. “Merry Christmas baby.”
She kisses him, still scared but sure he loves her.
#
January 2007
09er’s don’t care how the other half lives...or dies; but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t make the news. When Thumper’s death made the front page, when it was implied that the Fitzpatrick’s were somehow involved and under investigation, when Weevil didn’t answer his phone or return the five messages she’d left him, it wasn’t hard to figure out that something was going on..
They are sitting in her car. She’d followed him from his house, had dreaded the rumble of bikes she’d known was coming, couldn’t keep from crying as she’d listened to him rally the troops.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” she yells through her tears.
“What am I supposed to do, Veronica? These guys are my family,” he pleads.
“That family nearly killed you, or have you forgotten that? God, Eli, they’re dangerous.”
“I would never let them hurt you,” he says quietly.
“It isn’t me I’m worried about. What does it matter what they do? This isn’t your life anymore, Eli. You’re not one of them anymore. You don’t have to go back to that life. You don’t have to fight all the time.”
He shakes his head. “Veronica, I’m not going back to anything. This is who I’ve always been. It’s who I am.”
“It isn’t good enough for you...and it isn’t good enough for me.”
Weevil stares at her, a sadness in his eyes and shakes his head. “You really don’t understand.”
She’s stopped crying and she’s stopped yelling. “Explain it to me then,” she says quietly, trying to contain her anger. “Explain to me about commitment and choices...because if I recall correctly, you were the one who told me to stop being afraid, who showed me how to stop running. Where’s your commitment now, Weevil?” She spits the name out of her mouth and grips the steering wheel.
“Look. I never lied to you.” He’s raising his voice. “You’ve known who I am from the start. If you understood anything about me, you wouldn’t say that to me...not now.”
“If you understood anything about me...about us, I wouldn’t have to. Get out of my car,” she says firmly but she can’t hold the tears as she drives away.
#
Weevil is sitting on the porch smoking a cigarette. His grandmother takes it from his mouth and stamps it out. “Do not sit on my porch and advertise your dirty habits, por favor. I didn’t teach you that.”
“One cigarette in six months is not a habit, Grandma.”
”No me importa. I don’t want to see it. What are you sitting out here moping for?” She takes his chin in her hand and tips his face to look at him. “Elijah, you’ve been crying.”
He jerks his face from her grasp and stands up. “I’m not cryin'.”
He walks away from her to the edge of the porch but she follows him, rubbing his back and shaking her head.
“My little Elijah. You are so much like your father sometimes that it scares me, so tough, so afraid of what is inside of you.” He turns to look at her and she wipes a tear from his face. ”Mi hijo, do not hide your tears. That is not the man I’ve raised you to be.”
“What’s the point? Crying never got me anything…”
“Elijah, the tears are there to remind you that you are not dead inside.” She sighs heavily and continues quietly, “The only thing that can bring her back is you.”
He laughs bitterly, not surprised she’s read the situation perfectly. She always does. “She’s not coming back.”
”Mi hijo, she loves you.” She’s pleading now. “She loves you and you are breaking her heart…like you are breaking mine with all of this running around with your friends.”
Weevil wipes his eyes and shakes his head, a look of resolve settling across his face. “Uh uh. She’s gone…”
“Elijah, she sees what I see in you…not just who you are but everything you could be if only you would choose it.. Don’t let life happen to you, Elijah. Give her something to believe in.”
#
Late February 2007
He sits in his car for a long time, staring at her apartment, trying to gather the nerve to go up to the door. He didn’t see Keith coming or hear him until he knocked on the roof of the car. “Were you going to come up or should I call the sheriff and report a stalker, Eli?” Weevil’s not sure he’s not joking.
“Uh...yeah. I was going to come up...if that’s okay with you...I was going to...I was thinking.” His tongue is in knots and he thinks this is a mistake.
“Well, Veronica isn’t here right now but...”
“That’s okay, I wanted to talk to you.” At this, her father looks at the roses on the passenger seat and raises an eyebrow.
“That’s thoughtful, Eli, but roses aren’t reallly my thing. I’m more a tulip man.” Weevil laughs nervously and opens the door.
“No, these are for Veronica. But I wanted to talk to you first.” They walk up the stairs together and Veronica’s father lets him into the house.
“I don’t know everything that happened with the two of you, Eli, but I’ve been keeping an eye on you and I know that you’re staying out of trouble. Just so you know that.” He pulls two beers from the fridge and sits down. “What did you want to talk to me about.”
“Mr. Mars...I screwed up. And I hurt your daughter...and I don’t know if she is ever going to forgive me but I wanted to apologize to you...and to her, with your permission.” Kieth Mars takes a long drink of his beer and considers Weevil.
“Look, Eli. Here’s the thing. Veronica is my family...and I would do anything to protect to her, to keep her from harm. And if someone hurts her, there’s nothing that I want to do more than hurt them right back, to make them pay.” Weevil starts to get nervous, wonders how fast he could run out of the apartment and if he might break a bone jumping over the railing from the second story. A nagging voice at the back of his head reminds him that this seemed like a bad idea. He takes a deep breath.
Mr. Mars is still talking and Weevil tries to focus. “I don’t think it was the brightest idea you’ve ever had, trying to get your gang back under control, because you’re not a child and you should be thinking about your future. But I understand the feeling, wanting to protect your family. And like I said, someone was hurting Veronica? I’d want to kill them.” He sets his beer down and approaches Weevil but he doesn’t feel the need to run, doesn’t feel threatened.
“Eli, you’re still young. You’re a good guy. You can be whatever you want. Don’t forget that.” He squeezes his shoulder and Weevil doesn’t know what to say. “I don’t know what she’s going to say about it, but you absolutely have my permission to speak to Veronica when she gets home.” He leaves him standing in the kitchen, stunned into silence, still holding the flowers he’d brought as a peace offering,
#
Veronica’s heart surges with a mix of confusing emotions when she sees his car in the parking lot. She hasn’t spoken to him in a month and though she knows that nothing happened with the PCHer’s, he never came around. She misses him...and she’s angry and she doesn’t know what to say to him.
“Dad, I’m home,” she calls as she comes through the door, doing her best not to notice him standing at the counter but he doesn’t wait for her to say hello.
“Veronica.” He’s in a jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, with bright white sneakers and it’s nothing special but she still gets a rush looking at him.
“You’re growing your hair out?” she asks and he rubs his head.
“Oh, yeah. Not really on purpose. Just having a lazy week, I guess.”
“I see. What are you doing here?”
“These are for you,” he says, thrusting the flowers at her.
“Weevil...what are you doing? You can’t just...”
“I’m sorry.” He says it quietly and then again, louder. “I’m sorry.” She takes the flowers and carries them to the sink.
“For what?” she asks him because she’s missed him for a month and she’s angry and she doesn’t want to make it easy.
“...because I got scared. Because something really big happened and I didn’t know what to do with it and I didn’t stop to think about the ways it was going to affect you.” He shakes his head and walks to the couch. “Because the first time I had the chance, I didn’t choose you.”
Sitting down next to him, Veronica is most bothered with herself, that she so wants to forgive him, that she’s missed him so completely in the last weeks. As she’d watched him with his old friends, in his old jacket, talking the old talk, she’d been terrified, had felt him slipping out of her hands with every word and when he crawled out of her car that night, she’d felt betrayed and alone.
She still feels those things...but she doesn’t want to run.
“You really hurt me,” she whispers but she knows she will forgive him. This is what Lety had meant when she said that love was hard.
She’s still hurt but she knows that they will be okay, that this is a love worth all the risks and she’s scared, but she thinks that might be a good thing.
“Never again,” he whispers, kissing her forehead, and it sounds like a promise he wants to keep.