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Fic: The Circle Game
Title: The Circle Game
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Characters: Veronica, Wallace
Timeline/Spoilers: post-finale ("The Bitch Is Back")
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: They belong to Rob Thomas, who tried his darndest to do right by us last night, and a network I can’t even bear to mention at the moment.
A/N: This is my humble attempt to find some closure after last week's episode. I think it’s fitting that my first Veronica Mars fic is actually, in a sense, the end. I haven’t seen all of Season 3, so I apologize for any discrepancies, but I love these characters too much to let this pass me by. This story means a lot to me, and I hope you enjoy.
The title comes from a Joni Mitchell song of the same name and the quotes belongs to Eugene O’Neill and C.S. Lewis.
Summary: Because it feels like she’s back at the beginning again, and that’s the worst place to be. But at least this time she knows the way out.
---
There is no present or future—only the past, happening over and over again—now.
~ Eugene O’Neill
--
She made a promise to herself, almost two years ago. She was walking Backup on the beach with Wallace. Dad had just called to say he was getting in from Vegas in an hour—with a check for catching a bail jumper, his first case since he’d gotten out of the hospital—and that he’d pick up Mama Leoni’s on the way home. Logan had left a message earlier that day that she’d listened to a dozen times (not that she would admit it) telling her he couldn’t wait to see her, he had something special planned for this weekend now that he was officially clear of charges, and signing off with a couple of snarky comments. The sun was shining, but it wasn’t too hot, and there were clouds in the sky, but they were the big fluffy kind that looked like pillows and stuffed unicorns and comfort.
It wasn’t a perfect day. There was a fat guy in a Speedo walking by—for the hundredth time, Wallace suggested they make that illegal. A couple of frat boy types were being loud and obnoxious not ten feet away, probably trying to get her attention. She had sand in her hair and her underwear, and her new flip-flops were rubbing blisters between her toes. Mom was gone again. Lilly was still dead. She was still one of the most hated and ostracized girls at school.
But Dad was alive. Lilly’s killer was behind bars.
She’d flopped down on the sand beside Wallace, and Backup laid his head in her lap, and she remembered.
She remembered the beginning of the year, the end of last year, every day since Lilly died when she had felt scared and lost and helpless. Everyone she had thought loved her, except for Dad, had abandoned her. Her world was defined by sitting at an empty lunch table. She had no idea what to do with the broken pieces of her life, and the only thing in the world she was certain about was that she would not rest until she found Lilly’s killer.
She was a wreck. Just remembering that time made her queasy, made her want to crawl under the covers of her bed and never come out again. But she wasn’t that girl anymore. She would never retreat again.
She remembered now, and she vowed to herself that she would never let herself be that way again. Never feel lost or confused or desperate or abandoned. She would fight for the people she cared about—and it seemed like that number was growing all the time. She would fight for the truth and to see justice done. She would never forget who she was. She would never beg for closure.
She’d kept that promise, mostly. She’d slipped up a couple of times, most notably that night on the roof of the Neptune Grand when she’d thought a heartless, broken little boy with sad eyes had stolen it all away from her and the afternoon they read the verdict and she realized that Lilly’s murderer would never be punished for what he did.
But those moments were far outnumbered by the ones in which she surveyed her life and felt content. Sure, she and Dad still scraped to be able to buy the things they needed and she was never going to be the most popular girl in the world and life, in general, was no fairy tale, no rose garden. But she had Dad and Wallace and Mac and
But it never lasts.
--
She should have known last night. Known before, actually—when she had asked Wallace, for the millionth time since she’d met him, to do something she had no right to ask him to do. Should have known when she saw him stumble out of that warehouse nearly naked and shaking. Known when he looked her in the eyes and silently begged her not to pursue it. Known when she did anyways.
And if all of those weren’t big enough hints for Veronica Mars, oblivious extraordinaire, when she looked up at that portrait of Lilly, her hair tumbling around her shoulders, her eyes lit with mischief, her lips pouting flirtatiously, she should have known.
Should have known that you never really get away from who you were. Should have known that she would end up here, at this exact spot, because she’s been lugging it around with her for years like a ball and chain.
All of a sudden she realizes that she isn’t quite sure who she is anymore and hasn’t for quite some time. The last couple of weeks she felt more like herself. She’s been feeling more snarky and competent, excited about her internship, happy with Piz. But all of that was just a farce. Because she realizes she’s gotten to a place she didn’t know she was headed. A place where everything is just too familiar.
Because now, if she looked at herself in the mirror, she’d seen the same girl who walked away from Shelley Pomroy’s party. Best friend gone. Mother gone. Innocence gone.
Because she’s that Veronica now—again. Jake Kane and Clarence Weidman and Dad-the-bungling-local-sheriff and a reputation as a slut and staring at Lilly’s picture and wondering how she ended up in this place.
She should have figured that out last night. The night before. Three weeks ago. Or anytime since she started down this road again.
But she didn’t know. Not till this morning when she found an empty kitchen and that article. Not until she walked out of the voting booth and into the rain, alone.
--
It seemed like the only place to go at the time. Now, it just seems sick and weak and strangely comforting.
The Kanes didn’t sell their house when they fled
Her dad would look at her with sad eyes if he knew that she knew this. She doesn’t care.
She’d left right from the voting booth to come here. Parked two blocks away. Walked down the street, her tennis shoes filling up with water. Walked around to the back of the property. Scaled the wall. Settled down by the pool, running her fingers over the rust colored stain on the stone.
Now it’s hours later, dark except for the few weak lights from the house that spill out over the water. It’s still raining and her skin is puckered and seamed and as wrinkled as her clothes. The raindrops still make ripples across the surface of the pool. Her feet still dangle in the lukewarm water and her head is still bowed. She’s cold and her head aches and feels like it’s full of cotton and she isn’t sure she could move, even if she wanted to.
The phone rings. It’s The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song, a song that’s always driven her crazy. But she and Wallace had been flipping channels the other day, and he’d gone crazy when they found his favorite show from childhood, singing every word, throwing out phrases like “old school” and “bringing back memories.” He’d stolen her phone, changed her ring to this song and laughed and laughed as he did. She’d laughed, too.
It isn’t the first time the phone’s rung today. She’s pretty sure there are seventeen missed calls—and probably seventeen messages. She could let it be eighteen, but it’s late and it’s Wallace and she’s always owed him more, always taken more than she’s given. She lifts the phone to her ear.
“V?”
“Yeah?”
“Veronica, where are you? They’re going to announce the results soon. Shouldn’t you be here with your dad?”
She shakes her head to try to clear the fog, and raindrops and strands of soaking hair fly around her cheeks. “Where are you?”
“At the apartment, girl. Everybody’s here.”
“Everybody?”
“Yeah. Your Dad and Piz and Mac and Weevil and Cliff, and I think that’s Deputy Leo. Oh, and
Her laugh is watery and sounds more like a sob. “No. It’s fine.”
He tries to sound casual, but he just sounds concerned. “You are coming back, aren’t you, V? You’ll make it back.”
Under the steady drumming of the rain against stone, she swears she can hear Lilly laughing. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll make it back.”
She hangs up and slips the rain-slick phone back into her pocket. Then she rises unsteadily, feeling her knees protest, and starts for the wall. For home.
After all, she’s been here before and she can get out again.
Only it’ll be easier this time. This time, she’s not too proud to ask for help. This time, she knows the way.
--
What saves a man is to take a step. Then another step.
~C.S. Lewis
--
End.
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Have you ever read a fanfic of utterly unexperianced canon? It's... odd, because the fic forms the characters in your head - in a way, the fic has more power than just canon, because they're already characters-as-one-sees-them and it forms a double prism and it's rather awesome, though likelily far from canon, but that's ok, unless you ever do get in contact with that canon, which would lead to disappointment in either the fic or the canon.
Anyway, I enjoyed this fic immensely, having had a great need of a breaking-to-pieces-and-getting-together story, with all the lovely little shades of a personality struggling to - to be things, to do things, to just be. The weblike togetherness of scenes - Fresh Prince of Bel Air! Of ALL things! *loves* - the slight cyclicity and the constant introspection made it unimportant to know what, exactly, brought Veronica back to her pieces, what, exactly, the heartless, broken little boy with sad eyes had stolen and the whywhywhy... it's just a lovely, hopeful piece with "getting on with your life" lurking around but not in a heartless, detaching way.
Also, I truly loved the idea of "peace in people", her friends and dad and whoever - just, yes.
Also, the only thing I want to know about this seriesthing is - Mars? Neptune? Is there astronomycal symbolism here? If there is, it must be a darn fine seriesthing. Or must have been, anyway, sorry.
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But I'm so glad you enjoyed it anyways--thrilled really. I love breaking-to-pieces-and-getting-together, more than just about anything (all that angst; I just love it). I'm glad you liked the Fresh Prince thing; I was trying to come up with some very concrete details like that, and it just seemed to work for Wallace (of course, you wouldn't know that).
Yeah, the more I read what you wrote, the more interesting an experience I think this must have been for you--not to know *anything* that's important to how Veronica ended up here, really. But that makes it all the more flattering that you would say it still worked for you. So I'm sincerely glad you enjoyed it and flattered that you would read and review it even though you've no experience with VMars.
I'm sure there's some sort astronomical symbolism or something, though since I know very little about that sort of thing, I can't really tell you what it is. The town's name is Neptune, Veronica's last name is Mars....and that's pretty much it, except for this one hilarious scene where she and her friend Mac have a conversation about how she uses a Venus razor so her legs won't look like Pluto's....
It is a fantastic series. If you ever get the chance, you should check it out. It's witty and snarky and dark and so full of emotion--brilliance. One of my favorites ever.
Thanks again for reading! I appreciate it!
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Alright, so I'm crying again. It took me weeks to get over the VM cancellation and ridiculously un-closureful finale (almost as bad as the Firefly ending.) This story went and opened up all those old wounds. Now I'm back to thinking about Veronica and Wallace and Logan and Duncan.
This was brilliant in the reflective, tear-jerking, guilt-ridden sort of way. The language seemed very Veronica-esque. You have great attention to detail. Veronica listening to Logan's message over and over (makes her seem even more like a real girl). Details like the sand in her underwear and the blisters on her feet brought me back to the great theme of VMars: nothing is perfect or absolute.
The "should have known" section was also marvelous. I love the repetitive phrases like that. She really should have known. I've long held that the brilliance of VM is that she's not perfect. She makes mistakes and judges too quickly and messes up.
I had never really noticed the circular-ness of the ending. She really does end up just where she started. Something about that just makes it all the more tragic. The only difference is that this time there are many more people who care about her and who will bring her back. Did you notice that in the first episode Weevil beats up Logan to get him to apologize to Veronica and in the last Logan beats up the jerk to get him to apologize to her?
Your Wallace was adorable! *squee* Fresh Prince of Belair, I can definitly see him singing that. I particularly liked the line about how Wallace couldn't have been more different from Lily (so true). The little references to Lily were wonderful. It was just sort of a reminder that her memory still lives on in Veronica *tears up*
So, overall, this was full of total brilliance and amazingness. I can't wait to read some of your other stories. VMars is like an addiction, isn't it? Just when I thought I'd be able to live without it, you pull me back in.
Now, if you could just write a fic about how Veronica dumps Piz and runs away with Logan, that would be wonderful. *nudges*
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Thank you so very much! Sorry to rip open old wounds, but I'm glad it touched you. I so appreciate the length of your review--all the specifics you've provided for me; it helps so much to know what worked for you. Your insights are just right, too.
Veronica Mars is so an addiction; I doubt I'll ever totally get over it.
And since I really, really believe Veronica and Logan are never going to get over each other, so if I write any future fic, she'll definitely be dealing with her feelings for Logan.
Thanks again for your kind words! I'm so glad you decided to read this!
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