My first fanfiction ever, and of course it is Veronica Mars.
So I was on my way home from work tonight, and I started thinking about how much I didn't like the way the rooftop scene in the season 2 finale of Veronica Mars played out. So I decided to write my own. This is my first fanfiction ever.
Cassidy sits on the edge of the bed and listens to the shower run. The gun in his hand is heavy and cold, and he wonders to himself if he can really go through with it.
He can’t believe he couldn’t get it up. How fucking pathetic was he? He can’t even have sex with his girlfriend.
He looks at the gun. He touches the barrel of it to his temple. If he pulls the trigger this feeling will go away. All of it will just go away. He wonders if anybody would really miss him. Maybe Mac.
Mac.
He thinks maybe he could have loved her if he wasn’t so royally fucked up in the head. The potential of any kind of normal romantic relationship had been taken away a long time ago. By him.
Fuck.
He puts his finger on the trigger. Quick and painless, right? He needs something quick and painless. He’s so miserable right now he can barely breathe. He wonders if there is any chance of him ever being really happy.
No.
He hears Mac’s phone vibrating on the table. It’s a text message from Veronica: I NEED YOU TO MEET ME ALONE RIGHT NOW. IT’S ABOUT BEAVER. I’M IN THE LOBBY.
Beaver. He hates that fucking nickname. He wonders what Veronica could possibly have to tell Mac that concerns him. Could she know? No. Maybe. He learned a long time ago that it was almost physically impossible for Veronica Mars to mind her own fucking business. He feels bile rise up in his throat as he thinks of the possibility that she knows about everything he has done. He decides he will just have to meet with her himself and find out. What about Mac? He can’t have her following him. He texts Veronica back telling her to meet him on the roof then goes around the room gathering Mac’s clothes. He gets dressed. He decides to bring his gun with him. Just in case she knows. How could she know? He was so careful. He morbidly thinks there is a good chance he won’t make it through the night so he says a silent goodbye to Mac before he grabs the rest of their things and leaves the room.
*****
He hears the door to the roof open and he smiles to himself. Veronica Mars: so smart and yet so fucking stupid at the same time. He wonders if she even thought twice about why “Mac” would want to meet her on the roof. Oh well. She’s here now.
“Mac?” Veronica says her friend’s name so desperately it doesn’t really leave him room to wonder what she wants to tell her about him.
He comes around the corner and sees her searching the rooftop in confusion. The gun is in his hand and he hopes he won’t have to use it.
“Hey, Veronica.”
She turns around so fast she almost loses her balance. He sees the fear in her eyes. A part of him is hurt at her reaction to seeing him and another part relishes in it. He holds the gun at his side but makes sure she can see it. He sees her eyes flicker to it and then back up.
Fear.
“Throw me your bag.”
“Beaver, what-“
“Throw me your bag, Veronica.” He’s surprised at how steady his voice is. His whole body is shaking but his voice is as steady as a rock.
Her eyes flicker down to the gun again and she reluctantly throws her bag towards him. He reaches down and pulls her beloved taser out of it then throws it aside.
He decides to try starting casually. “So, I was wondering, what exactly did you want to tell Mac about me?”
She doesn’t go for it. “Where is she?”
“I’m asking the questions here Veronica, not you.” He shakes the gun by his side just as a reminder that he is the one in charge of this situation.
“I wanted to tell her what I know. I know everything.” She looks somewhat confident about her revelation.
His stomach clenches and he is sure he’s going to throw up. He holds it in.
He feigns confusion. “Everything?”
“I know you were responsible for the bus crash.”
He laughs out loud. Mostly because he doesn’t know another way to react. He sees her flinch at the sound.
“That hurts my feelings, Veronica. But, I’d really like to know how exactly you came to that conclusion.” He tries to stay casual. He’s stalling. He doesn’t know if he can go through with this.
She says she knows about Woody and the little league team. She says she knows that Peter and Marcos wanted to come out with the truth. She says she knows about his connection to Curly Moran. His stomach clenches again at the memory of hitting Curly with his car. He doesn’t know why she is telling him all of this. Maybe she thinks it’ll make him break down and confess. Maybe she’s right.
“That’s a great theory. A really great theory. But there’s this little thing called evidence, and I don’t recall you mentioning any.” His voice shakes a little when he says that. He’s never been good with confrontation.
“You’re not denying any of it.”
He laughs softly. A part of him doesn’t want to deny it. A small part of him feels relief at the fact that someone knows what he did. Even if it is only her theory.
He decides to change tracks. “You’re a smart girl Veronica. You know how to put two and two together. I’ve always liked that about you. It is the reason I sent you after my dad, after all.”
He sees the confusion spread across her face. “What?”
“Aw, come on. Did you really think I needed you to catch Kendall cheating? I knew what my dad was doing. I just needed you to find out so you could let the cat out of the bag. I mean, you should have seen the look on his face when he realized he’d been caught!” He laughs at this, and it comes out somewhat maniacally. Veronica manages to look scared and pissed off at the same time. He really should quit stalling. The urge to vomit is stronger than ever, and he barely notices that Veronica is talking to him.
“Cassidy, I know it was you who killed all of those people. You can deny it all you want, but I know. I can see it in your eyes. You had your reasons. You need help. Someone can help you. It’s wrong what Woody did to you. It-.”
“SHUT UP!” He can tell she's trying to talk herself out of this predicament and his head is pounding enough without her rattling on.
“You shouldn’t go around just throwing accusations at people Veronica. You don’t know anything about me.” He feels like he is starting to break. He is starting to sound hysterical. “Veronica fucking Mars! Teenage detective! God, you think you can just pry into people’s lives and bring out all of their deep, dark secrets. Do you ever consider that some things are better left undiscovered? Do you ever think of the fucking possibility that people don’t want you to know every little thing about them? You don’t…you can’t understand why I did those things. Why I had to do those things. You could never understand.” He knew what he had just said, but it was as if a dam had broken inside of him and he just couldn’t stop talking.
“My whole life has been one shitfest after another! I have the second biggest asshole in the world as an older brother. First place would have to go to ‘dear old dad’ who basically treated me as if I didn’t exist, and on those rare occasions that he actually acknowledged me, it was only to join in with Dick to make my life a living hell. And Woody. GOD DAMNIT!” He’s losing control of this situation fast. All the anger he’s felt for so long is coming out of him. He tries to stop talking. He can’t.
“Fucking Woody Goodman. I hate him for what he did to me. I hate him.” He feels the tears on his face before he even realizes he’s crying. “You don’t know what it feels like Veronica. No one does. I can’t let anyone else find out. I can't.” He hears the desperation in his voice. He sounds pathetic. He is pathetic. Veronica is still standing across from him. She looks so small and scared. He knows how that feels. He’s so tired of feeling that way. He tightens his grip on the gun in his hand. “I don’t want anyone else to find out Veronica.”
He raises the gun and points it straight at her.
“Beaver…please don’t.” She’s crying. He wishes there was another way. He wishes his life could have been different.
He wishes Mac’s was the last face he was going to see.
“My name is Cassidy, Veronica.” He sounds broken. He points the gun to his temple for the second time that night. Quick and painless, he thinks, as his finger pulls the trigger.
Cassidy sits on the edge of the bed and listens to the shower run. The gun in his hand is heavy and cold, and he wonders to himself if he can really go through with it.
He can’t believe he couldn’t get it up. How fucking pathetic was he? He can’t even have sex with his girlfriend.
He looks at the gun. He touches the barrel of it to his temple. If he pulls the trigger this feeling will go away. All of it will just go away. He wonders if anybody would really miss him. Maybe Mac.
Mac.
He thinks maybe he could have loved her if he wasn’t so royally fucked up in the head. The potential of any kind of normal romantic relationship had been taken away a long time ago. By him.
Fuck.
He puts his finger on the trigger. Quick and painless, right? He needs something quick and painless. He’s so miserable right now he can barely breathe. He wonders if there is any chance of him ever being really happy.
No.
He hears Mac’s phone vibrating on the table. It’s a text message from Veronica: I NEED YOU TO MEET ME ALONE RIGHT NOW. IT’S ABOUT BEAVER. I’M IN THE LOBBY.
Beaver. He hates that fucking nickname. He wonders what Veronica could possibly have to tell Mac that concerns him. Could she know? No. Maybe. He learned a long time ago that it was almost physically impossible for Veronica Mars to mind her own fucking business. He feels bile rise up in his throat as he thinks of the possibility that she knows about everything he has done. He decides he will just have to meet with her himself and find out. What about Mac? He can’t have her following him. He texts Veronica back telling her to meet him on the roof then goes around the room gathering Mac’s clothes. He gets dressed. He decides to bring his gun with him. Just in case she knows. How could she know? He was so careful. He morbidly thinks there is a good chance he won’t make it through the night so he says a silent goodbye to Mac before he grabs the rest of their things and leaves the room.
*****
He hears the door to the roof open and he smiles to himself. Veronica Mars: so smart and yet so fucking stupid at the same time. He wonders if she even thought twice about why “Mac” would want to meet her on the roof. Oh well. She’s here now.
“Mac?” Veronica says her friend’s name so desperately it doesn’t really leave him room to wonder what she wants to tell her about him.
He comes around the corner and sees her searching the rooftop in confusion. The gun is in his hand and he hopes he won’t have to use it.
“Hey, Veronica.”
She turns around so fast she almost loses her balance. He sees the fear in her eyes. A part of him is hurt at her reaction to seeing him and another part relishes in it. He holds the gun at his side but makes sure she can see it. He sees her eyes flicker to it and then back up.
Fear.
“Throw me your bag.”
“Beaver, what-“
“Throw me your bag, Veronica.” He’s surprised at how steady his voice is. His whole body is shaking but his voice is as steady as a rock.
Her eyes flicker down to the gun again and she reluctantly throws her bag towards him. He reaches down and pulls her beloved taser out of it then throws it aside.
He decides to try starting casually. “So, I was wondering, what exactly did you want to tell Mac about me?”
She doesn’t go for it. “Where is she?”
“I’m asking the questions here Veronica, not you.” He shakes the gun by his side just as a reminder that he is the one in charge of this situation.
“I wanted to tell her what I know. I know everything.” She looks somewhat confident about her revelation.
His stomach clenches and he is sure he’s going to throw up. He holds it in.
He feigns confusion. “Everything?”
“I know you were responsible for the bus crash.”
He laughs out loud. Mostly because he doesn’t know another way to react. He sees her flinch at the sound.
“That hurts my feelings, Veronica. But, I’d really like to know how exactly you came to that conclusion.” He tries to stay casual. He’s stalling. He doesn’t know if he can go through with this.
She says she knows about Woody and the little league team. She says she knows that Peter and Marcos wanted to come out with the truth. She says she knows about his connection to Curly Moran. His stomach clenches again at the memory of hitting Curly with his car. He doesn’t know why she is telling him all of this. Maybe she thinks it’ll make him break down and confess. Maybe she’s right.
“That’s a great theory. A really great theory. But there’s this little thing called evidence, and I don’t recall you mentioning any.” His voice shakes a little when he says that. He’s never been good with confrontation.
“You’re not denying any of it.”
He laughs softly. A part of him doesn’t want to deny it. A small part of him feels relief at the fact that someone knows what he did. Even if it is only her theory.
He decides to change tracks. “You’re a smart girl Veronica. You know how to put two and two together. I’ve always liked that about you. It is the reason I sent you after my dad, after all.”
He sees the confusion spread across her face. “What?”
“Aw, come on. Did you really think I needed you to catch Kendall cheating? I knew what my dad was doing. I just needed you to find out so you could let the cat out of the bag. I mean, you should have seen the look on his face when he realized he’d been caught!” He laughs at this, and it comes out somewhat maniacally. Veronica manages to look scared and pissed off at the same time. He really should quit stalling. The urge to vomit is stronger than ever, and he barely notices that Veronica is talking to him.
“Cassidy, I know it was you who killed all of those people. You can deny it all you want, but I know. I can see it in your eyes. You had your reasons. You need help. Someone can help you. It’s wrong what Woody did to you. It-.”
“SHUT UP!” He can tell she's trying to talk herself out of this predicament and his head is pounding enough without her rattling on.
“You shouldn’t go around just throwing accusations at people Veronica. You don’t know anything about me.” He feels like he is starting to break. He is starting to sound hysterical. “Veronica fucking Mars! Teenage detective! God, you think you can just pry into people’s lives and bring out all of their deep, dark secrets. Do you ever consider that some things are better left undiscovered? Do you ever think of the fucking possibility that people don’t want you to know every little thing about them? You don’t…you can’t understand why I did those things. Why I had to do those things. You could never understand.” He knew what he had just said, but it was as if a dam had broken inside of him and he just couldn’t stop talking.
“My whole life has been one shitfest after another! I have the second biggest asshole in the world as an older brother. First place would have to go to ‘dear old dad’ who basically treated me as if I didn’t exist, and on those rare occasions that he actually acknowledged me, it was only to join in with Dick to make my life a living hell. And Woody. GOD DAMNIT!” He’s losing control of this situation fast. All the anger he’s felt for so long is coming out of him. He tries to stop talking. He can’t.
“Fucking Woody Goodman. I hate him for what he did to me. I hate him.” He feels the tears on his face before he even realizes he’s crying. “You don’t know what it feels like Veronica. No one does. I can’t let anyone else find out. I can't.” He hears the desperation in his voice. He sounds pathetic. He is pathetic. Veronica is still standing across from him. She looks so small and scared. He knows how that feels. He’s so tired of feeling that way. He tightens his grip on the gun in his hand. “I don’t want anyone else to find out Veronica.”
He raises the gun and points it straight at her.
“Beaver…please don’t.” She’s crying. He wishes there was another way. He wishes his life could have been different.
He wishes Mac’s was the last face he was going to see.
“My name is Cassidy, Veronica.” He sounds broken. He points the gun to his temple for the second time that night. Quick and painless, he thinks, as his finger pulls the trigger.