Archive of Our Own

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Why are you here?” Rose tilted her head as if that would make it more apparent why Veronica was in her kitchen. Apparently the perspective didn’t give her the answer she wanted, as she was still staring at Veronica expectantly.

Damn, Rose was a perceptive little fawn. Veronica had been able to slip out the back the past few times this had happened, but clearly she wasn’t going to miss Veronica today. Time for a change of conversational topics. “Why, yes, that is delicious hot chocolate, isn’t it?”

That misdirection was sure to work. Any second now Rose would stop staring and start discussing the hot chocolate. Because while Rose did have the power of curls on her side, Veronica was wilier and older. Though not too much older. “Rose, how much older than you would you say I am?”

“Well, how old are you?” There, misdirection accomplished.

“I refuse to answer that as that information could be used against me in the wrong hands. You never know when someone is listening,” said Veronica, her face serious. “How old do you think I am?”

Rose scrunched up her nose, somehow making her even cuter. “I don’t know, old? Maybe--” Say twenty, say twenty, thought Veronica, crossing her fingers. “50?”

OK, Rose was not perceptive. Or cute. More like conniving. Yes, that was it. She was a conniving little monster with bad vision. Clearly Ted’s plan for them to spend time together (“You date me, you date Rose”) while he was off schmoozing a potential supplier was insane.

Veronica snatched the mug out of Rose’s hand. Clearly anyone this young and foolish did not deserve delicious hot chocolate. Why, just think of those poor defenseless gooey marshmallows being devoured by a mouth that said such unkind and false things.

Rose didn’t object. Smart girl. Perhaps she just needed glasses. Yes, that must be it. “Rose, you need glasses.”

“But I just went to the eye doctor’s last month and he said my eyes were fine.”

“Clearly she--”

“He,” interrupted Rose.

“Well, whatever the gender, clearly that doctor is incompetent.” Veronica knew all about incompetent eye doctors. Why, one had dared to suggest Veronica needed glasses. That was a good memory, what with how she had retaliated by getting his license revoked. The doctor had had it coming.

Speaking of which. “Come along, Rose, time for school.”

"Damn you all to hell," said Veronica as she pressed her full weight onto the horn.

"I get ten dollars for my college fund," said Rose. Veronica glanced over at her. Her curls were whipping around her face like a lion's mane. Maybe she should try curls. No, Veronica, she told herself, Remember the 80s. Stay strong. Anyway, that wasn't the point.

"What? No, you get one, and that is only because I like your entrepreneurial spirit," said Veronica.

"Two."

"Fifty cents."

"One and you look at the road when you are driving."

"Why would I do that?"

"So we don't die?" asked Rose. She sounded serious, but Veronica chose to ignore the question. Clearly she was impugning Veronica's new driving skills, and that would not do.

Veronica slammed on the brakes. That minivan was going down. She spun the wheel, prepared to maneuver around, when another bulky vehicle blocked her way. This would not do at all. "Damn, damn, damn."

"One, two, three."

"Oh, shut up," said Veronica.

Rose was looking at her with widened eyes. She looked, hmmm, sad? Facial expressions were so ambiguous. Someone should get on that. Maybe an app? "Are you sad, sweetie?"

"No, but I am kind of scared of your driving." Rose's knuckles were growing white where she had them clamped around the edges of her seat. "When did you learn how to drive?"

"Last week, if you must know."

"You're serious."

"Always."

Veronica once again spun the wheel only to have her path blocked by yet another minivan. Why were they all here?

"Because moms and dads are dropping off their kids." Oh, apparently that had been an out-loud thought.

"Well, that clearly isn't practical. Can't they just mail them in? Oh, our maybe they could use one of those vacuum tubes, like at a bank drive-thru."

Rose looked considering, then said, "That could be fun. But wouldn't all the kids end up bumping into each other?"

"Let's go find out."

"Veronica, my school is that way."

"Yes, it is." Veronica smiled. This plan was clearly great, and involved far fewer minivans. "Rose, sweetie, have you ever heard of a minionship?"

"I think so. Isn't it where you work for free instead of going to school?"

"Exactly. Very educational." Veronica smiled. This was a good plan. “So, what do you say? Want a minionship at Veridian Dynamics?”

Rose looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. "OK, we aren't doing anything exciting today. Last week we got to look at pictures of what a frog's insides are like. It was awesome."

"Rose, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful minionship."

“Yes, Ms. Palmer, interns do get school credit.”

“See, Rose, I told you. Minionships are the way to go.”

“However,” said Janet, ignoring the fact that Veronica had decided that her input was no longer needed, “Rose is not an intern.”

“No, she’s a minion.” Clearly they were having some sort of translation issue here. Veronica looked Janet up and down. “Are you perhaps Norwegian?”

“No. And no.”

“What were the ‘nos’ for?” asked Rose.

“An excellent question. You are going to be a great minion.” Veronica smiled as she said it. Positive reinforcement was a key part of her management scheme. “But to answer your question, she apparently isn’t Norwegian, which I have a very hard time believing, considering those cheekbones.”

“While it brings me great pleasure to hear you admitting you were wrong, you only accounted for one of the nos.” Janet smiled. Veronica appreciated the way it looked, like a fanged butterfly. Either way, and whatever its appeal, it probably did not bode well. “No, Ms. Crisp is not an intern.”

“Obviously. We went over this already. She is a minion.” The conversation was going around in circles. Veronica had liked running in circles when she was young. It built both character and gams. She mentally added it to her lists of minion tasks for Rose. But now was not the time.

“Well, she might be a minion, but she sure as h-e-double-el is not going on the payroll for Veridian Dynamics.”

“Why does no one think I can spell?”

“Hush, Rose, the adults are speaking about something important. We pay the little minions?” Veronica made sure to imbue her voice with the proper levels of horror. Modulation was key. Last week she had been talking about how awful the food had been at dinner and the little lemur man had fainted. Though maybe that was due to something that had never happened, like the time the company tried to freeze him.

"No, Ms. Palmer." Veronica wiped a beaded bit of moisture that had welled up on her forehead. How strange. "But there is a substantial risk, especially when the, er, minion is under 18."

"Risk?" Could Veronica have been allowed to shoot the interns whenever she wanted? That would be so great for her stress levels.

"Yes. Risks. You see, parents seem to object if their little darlings get harmed in any sort of way while in our," Janet paused for a moment, looking for the right word, "care."

Oh dear God, caring. It was worse than she thought. Veronica took a step back from Rose. Subtly and gracefully, of course. But-

"That won't be a problem."

"I really think it will."

"Well, then you are wrong, in addition to being an impostor Norwegian." Veronica smiled her own butterfly smile as she went in for the metaphorical kill. "You see, Rose here is Ted's daughter."

"The Ken doll in R&D?"

"That's the one. And in addition to his plasticine good looks, you want to know what Ted is?" Veronica didn't bother pausing before answering her own questions. "Ted is a company man. Loyal to the core. He would never sue."

"Oh, yes. The company has enough on him to make sure of that, even though the lengths parents go for their children can be quite irrational," Janet clacked away at her keyboard for a moment before looking up at Rose. "Welcome to Veridian Dynamics."

Veronica was meeting Phil and his life partner, whats-his-name who would be the father of her children someday, when she realized it had been an awfully long time since she had left Rose in Janet's office to complete the paperwork.

"Follow me," she said as she left her office, rather unnecessarily, as she was careful to sway her hips as she walked in such a way that he would be compelled to come after her.

"But Veronica," said Lem. Ah, yes, that was his name. Future father Lem. "What about kids who are claustrophobic? Or just don't want another small place a bully could stuff them into when he really wasn't doing anything to them and so should have just been left on his own to work on his science fair--"

Veronica cut him off. Some things just didn't need to be heard. Besides, she knew the answer to this one. "That is why they will be clear kid tubes."

"The infrastructure alone will have to be put in place before we could ever start testing," said Phil. "That would take years to be viable."

Veronica thought of years of navigating mini-van filled streets and said, "I want it done. And soon."

"Phil, Lem--" called out Linda from behind them.

Veronica grabbed Phil's sleeve and sped up. Linda might not appreciate the way Rose had been drafted into being Veronica's minion. Oh, no -- what if the reason it had been so long was that someone had called Ted? Or worse, Rose had been assigned to be someone else's minion? She did not want Ron in Marketing to harness the power of the curls. That way would lie madness and lower holiday bonuses.

"Lem?" asked Phil, his voice wavering like that time that Veronica had convinced him he would be sent to live on an iceberg. "Am I dreaming?"

"I don't think you are. Usually in my dreams when we are running somewhere Veronica isn't running with us." He paused for a moment. Or maybe he was just catching his breath. Maybe Veronica should make him run in circles too. "Though sometimes she is chasing us. But in those dreams she is usually much taller. Or more naked."

"I do look spectacular naked," said Veronica, because it was oh, so very true.

"She's touching me. And talking about being naked," whispered Phil. "Are you sure I'm not dreaming?"

Veronica pinched him. "Very sure."

She veered to the left, racing past the HR assistant to slam open Janet's door. "I demand my minion."

"Oh, hi, Veronica, said Rose calmly, her legs swinging from her perch on the chair across from Janet's desk. She had a large book on her lap which she was using as a makeshift desk, presumably so she could continue signing the stack of paper that loomed over her.

"And what do you think you are doing, Ms. Palmer?" said Janet, not glancing away from her computer screen.

"I just said, I demand my minion."

"She did say that," "Yes, she did," chorused the Tweedle-dee and and Tweedle-dum of the lab-coat set.

"Seems like you already have a couple minions."

"We're not minions, we're scientists," said Lem, puffing his chest out.

"They are," agreed Rose.

"But if you mean Ms. Crisp, she isn't done yet."

"But I need her."

"No, what you need is for us to avoid any lawsuits by waiting until she has completed her safety training."

"They have safety training here?" asked Phil, eyes going even wider. Great, now the scientists would get ideas.

"Indeed we do, Mr--"

"Myman" replied Phil as Janet's fingers once again flew across the keyboard.

"Well, I guess it doesn't hurt to expand the training group."

"Yes, it does. It hurts my productivity and my kid tubes," said Veronica. Damn power-crazy HR, trying to encroach on the time of her scientists.

"I don't want to hear about your kid tubes," replied Janet, clearly missing the point.

"I do."

"Shut up, Phil, we're leaving," said Veronica.

"No, you're not." Veronica made to run, a sign that Janet did not appear to miss, as she continued, "Do I have to call security?"

"No,” said Veronica, grudgingly.

"Good.” Janet glanced over at Rose, who was signing the last piece of paper on her desk. "Did you really have to read every one of those?"

"My Dad said you should never sign anything without reading it."

"Ted is such an awesome father."

"Really, he is just awesome. I don't think it needs a qualifier." Lem reached over and high-fived Phil in apparent agreement over Ted's awesomeness.

"OK, then. It is time for the bunch of you to get the h-e-el-el out of my office," said Janet, smartly ignoring that exchange.

"I can still spell," grumbled Rose.

"Of course you can," said Veronica as she patted her head. "Come along[,] minion, scientists."

But as they approached the door Janet spoke up again, "Hans will show you where to go."

The door swung open to show the presumed Hans.

"He is rather tall," said Lem.

"Also, wide," added Phil.

"And Norwegian." Couldn't let them have all the descriptions. Veronica was going to win at this describing game.

"So you are going to learn how to be safe, yes?" boomed Hans. Veronica had a brief thought about climbing him like a tree. Almost too brief. Clearly this whole monogamy thing was getting to her.

"I am always safe," said Veronica. "And besides, only the littler two have to sit through the training."

"According to my list, all four of you need this."

"Well, that wasn’t very nice of her. It makes me want to claw her eyeballs until they fall out of her head and..." Veronica continued on for few minutes conversationally. She was always being urged to share her feelings. By the time she was done even Hans was turning a shade of green that really clashed with his yellow-blond hair.

"What does ‘festering’ mean?" asked Rose. Maybe Veronica should have toned that down, but oh, well, she had to learn sometime.

"When you're older," answered Veronica calmly. She felt much better now that she had gotten that off her chest.

While she had been decrying all the many ways she would make Janet pay for the indignity of subjecting her to the bureaucratic horror that was safety training, Hans had ushered them into a screening room that smelled rather unfortunately of old sweat rather than salty popcorn.

"Will there be gummy worms? They're my favorite part of going to the movies," asked Lem.

"Let me go get them," said Hans as he backed out of the room, door swinging shut behind him with a firm click.

"I really didn't think he would actually go get them for me. Maybe this won't be so bad," said Lem as he settled down into one of the red chairs.

The lights were starting to dim, but Rose was still staring at the door. "Veronica?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Why did he lock us in?" asked Rose as the film began to roll.

"Let's never do that again."

"I heartily agree."

"Did people actually dress like that?"

"Unfortunately yes, Rose, back in a dark time of national, and unfortunately, personal, shame."

Rose shivered violently at the thought, as well she would. "I don't understand though-"

"It really isn't all that hard to get. But I suppose tiny brains need a little help," said Veronica in her kindest voice. No need to upset the less mentally fortunate. "It is always your fault."

Veronica knew it was true. The company had told her. And some things the company was very clear on.

"What is?" asked Phil. Clearly this was a bigger problem than she had thought.

“Anything. Everything. If you get hurt, it’s your fault. People cause problems."

“But what if it isn't?" Rose seems much less sage now. Perhaps it was the way the seat cushion had compressed her curls. "When Edwin H. was riding his bike and the wheel fell off and his knee got all icky, and bloody, and awesome, and he got to wear a cast; his mother sued the bike shop and he got a new Wii."

"Did we make the bike?"

"No," said Rose after a moment of thought. “It was just ordinary bike.”

"Then it’s fine, because it was the bike shop’s fault. It wasn't our fault. Because we don't cause accidents, or cause people unintentional harm," said Veronica certainly. Because it was the truth.

Rose just made a face as Veronica kindly explained. It was very un-minionly. This would have to be brought up during her evaluation.

"She does have a point," said Lem.

"Thank you," said Veronica, with a gracious nod of her head. It was always good to acknowledge when an employee got something right.

"No, I meant Rose."

Perhaps she had misheard. Or maybe he had had a brain typo. Those were painful things. And being as Veronica was such a caring boss, she patted Lem's head gently as she said, "You mean Veronica."

He leaned back behind Phil and started whispering in his ear. Something about broccoli. or possibly about eating souls. It wasn't very clear and besides, Lem had just proven himself to be entirely unwise. Veronica decided to ignore it in favor of saying, "I'm glad we agreed."

"No, we didn't," Rose said, her curls bouncing as she nodded her head firmly.

“Agree to disagree.”

“I’ll tell you what I don’t understand about that safety video,” said Phil, as if it mattered. “Why were there so many warnings about not driving forklifts onto forklifts? Is it what people in the warehouse do for fun?”

“I was wondering that too,” agreed Lem.

“And they did seem to be having fun before the forklifts fell on them,” said Veronica, smiling. That had been one of the few bright spots in the tortuous safety movie

“Could you even do that?” asked Rose.

“I don’t see why not,” said Lem, looking over at Phil, who immediately began gesturing with his hands and saying something about mass.

But Veronica decided to overlook the nerd conference and instead instruct her poor naive minion. “Sweetie, we don’t ask if we can do something. We just tell them to do it.”

Rose nodded. “Lem, Phil, we are going to pick up a forklift with a forklift.”

“Really?” asked Lem, glancing over at Veronica.

“You heard the minion. Let’s do this.”

“How hard can it really be to drive a forklift?" asked Veronica as she settled down into the seat.

"Are you sure this is such a great idea?" asked Rose skeptically.

"Obviously."

"Actually, maybe it would be safe if I drove it?" asked Lem tentatively, after repeated pokes from Rose. Veronica would have to work on her tactics of persuasion.

"Getting other people to do your dirty work. I approve, and therefore will let the scientists handle the driving. Those you lose points for no subtlety," said Veronica as she ceded the seat to Lem, jumping down from the forklift, her heel clicking against the cement floor.

She looked around for Rose on the warehouse floor before finding her perched beside Lem on the other forklift. Veronica nodded approvingly. Rose had done what she wanted without asking if she could. The girl was morphing from a fawn to a dragon right in front of her eyes.

Veronica grabbed her silk scarf from where it had been wrapped tightly against her throat and waved it as she said, "Commence operation Forklifting Forklift."

Phil's forklift began to rumble as it edged closer to Lem's.

The Veronica heard it. The sickening groan of the metal as it strained to cope with the weight of the other forklift. That sounded far too similar to the video. Then all she could hear was the clattering of her heels against the floor as she raced to the forklift, reaching up and grabbing Rose's arm, pulling her out and down.

They were both on the floor. This level of grime was clearly unacceptable, thought Veronica nonsensically as she stared at the grease stain beginning to show on her skirt.

"I'm OK," said Phil, his voice trembling like the wings of a fearsome butterfly. Veronica glanced over to see what he was nattering on about, and took in the sight of two toppled forklifts splayed across the floor, metal supports twisted.

"Oh, thank God," replied Lem.

"I'm glad someone cares about my welfare," said Phil snidely.

"I do, too," said Rose, her voice muffled. "It’s just kind of hard to talk."

"What can't you talk? What happened?" said Veronica. Her voice certainly wasn't high-pitched and panicked. It wouldn't be. She was Veronica Palmer.

"You're holding me too tight."

"I guess I just don't know my own strength," said Veronica gruffly as she unclenched her arms from around Rose. Her voice wasn't working properly. Perhaps it was due to the way her chest felt all funny and compressed and awful.

"Hey, what are you people doing down here?" From her angle on the floor the warehouse person seemed to loom huge. As she stood up, she reassessed that thought. He was, perhaps, bigger than Hans.

"Minion, scientists? I think it is time to run again.”

Having sent Phil and Lem back home to their lab, Veronica settled down to get some work done. Clearly this minion-having business was more time-consuming than she had thought.

"Veronica, why am I running around in circles?" asked Rose, sounding slightly winded. Clearly this training had not come soon enough.

"Because I said so. And you are a minion. By definition you have to do as I say," explained Veronica.

"Can I go run in circles around the cubicles, at least?"

"Absolutely not.” Veronica did not want to think about why she didn’t want Rose out of her sight at the moment. "Rose."

She paused. She wasn’t quite sure why she had said that. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe she was just been thinking about roses in the privacy of her own mind.

"Are you going to say anything?" asked Rose. Damn. Apparently it had been an out-loud thought. Time for more clever misdirection.

"Probably. I say a great many things. About the weather, maybe?" Veronica assessed Rose. "I've also heard about a contagion that infects only preteen girls. Something Canadian, I think. We could discuss that."

"You want to talk about Justin Bieber," said Rose. There really was no need for all that skepticism in her voice. Maybe Veronica found this Justin Bibbey fascinating.

"Exactly."

"Well, what I want to talk about is this: thanks, Veronica."

"For what?" Veronica generally liked being thanked and praised, not to mention worshipped, but usually she knew why.

"For pulling me out of that forklift. It was scary," said Rose.

So that was what that feeling had been. Scared. It certainly wasn’t anything Veronica wanted to feel again, that was for sure.

"Well, I know how you can repay me. Never tell Ted."

"He would probably act all weird and clingy anyway." Both of them shivered at the prospect. "You know how overprotective parents get," said Rose nonchalantly.

"About that." said Veronica, before pausing.

"Veronica. You stopped talking again," said Rose after a moment. Possibly because she was still running in circles.

"I don't ever want to be a parent. I would have to have all those feelings, like concern and pride and loving vegetables," said Veronica in a rush.

"Okay," said Rose, stretching the second syllable out until the whole word was distorted with skepticism. Veronica looked back down at her laptop. Wonderful, wonderful work.

“Veronica?” asked Rose, as she skidded to a stop in front of Veronica’s desk.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“You don’t have to slip out the back door tomorrow morning.”