Chapter Text
Chapter 1: A Rude Awakening
Heather's agonizing cries pierced the room as she melted from red to blue to nothing. Kurt and Ram clung desperately to the fence. JD cackled, arms wide open, smoke pouring from his gun and a bullet hole between his eyes. Out. Veronica had to get out, away from him-
Veronica jolted awake from the nightmare, gasping for air. Breathe, Sawyer, she thought. That was just another nightmare. He's only in your head now. He can't hurt you anymore. She shifted forward, glancing at the familiar clock on her indigo nightstand. It read Friday, 6:50 AM. She exhaled. Great. Last week before graduation, even better. Just six more days before she could ditch this shithole high school and leave this town. Five more days in a world of JDs and Heathers. She could start over, reinvent herself, leave Sherwood behind. It would be beautiful.
"Veronica, you're going to be late!" Her mother called from the first floor. "It's the first day of school, let's start it off on the right foot!"
Wait, first day? That can't be right, she realized, not unless-
Veronica bolted to her closet. There was no blue blazer, no red scrunchie. All that lay inside was her old scarf and flats, confirming her fears. Heather despised those. She hadn't so much as touched them since-
"Veronica?" Her mother questioned.
"One second, mom, gotta grab my bag!" Veronica yelped, desperately trying to keep her voice steadier than her hands. She stood against the closet door, breathing ragged, waves of panic surging through her body. She blinked back the tears welling in her eyes. This was happening.
***
Sep. 1st, 1989
Dear Diary,
Everything is fucked. Royally fucked. If I'm wrong, if this isn't the first time again, then I don't know what's going on. I can't do this again. I want out.
***
Veronica was not ready for this. Every little movement caught her eye, and every noise sent her heart racing. Walking down these halls again felt so horribly, viscerally wrong. The rest of Westerberg marched on, blissfully unaware of their impending doom. Hell, they didn't have to know. They didn't even know her. Veronica was a nobody again. Or, as Ram had so eloquently put it, a skank. All three Heathers were alive and well, and JD hadn't blown anyone up. Maybe this is for the best, she realized. This was a new beginning. She could do anything. She could save anybody she wanted and keep everyone from getting hurt.
"Watch it, loser!" Kurt Kelly suddenly bellowed, shoving Veronica aside. The crowd parted like the Red Sea around her, none of them even sparing her a glance.
"Sorry," The brown-haired girl mumbled. Better alive and an asshole than dead and an asshole, she thought, fishing around for the contents of her backpack. It was going to be a long day.
***
Morning classes were agony. The hours dragged on forever while Veronica drummed her fingers to oblivion against her desk. She would've taken boredom over time to think any day, especially today. Thoughts churned aimlessly in her head, needling and nudging until Veronica could feel her temples throb. It definitely didn't help that she had third period with Heather Chandler and Heather Duke, as well as fifth period with Heather McNamara. By the time the lunch bell rang, a horrible knot had formed in her stomach. This was it. Her chance to dodge the Heathers and set everything right before it could happen. She was not gonna fuck it up.
The Westerberg cafeteria was no sight to behold. You only had to look at the peeling, yellowed stucco walls to know the place was falling apart. At a school as tiny as Westerberg, the cafeteria was a free-for-all.
Veronica glanced anxiously around the rabble, scanning the sea of faces for any sign of JD or a Heather. There was nothing. She was in the clear. Maybe this won't be so bad, she mused, catching sight of Martha Dunnstock a few tables away. The cheery girl wore her trademark smile and signature pink bow.
Veronica waved back and felt her own lips curl upwards. She missed this version of her best friend.
"Ronnie!" Martha squealed, pulling Veronica into a soul-crushing hug.
"Missed you too, Martha," Veronica laughed, returning the affection. "What have you been up to?" she asked.
Martha Giggled, "Oh, nothing much, mostly getting ready for the new year. We're Seniors, Ronnie! Seniors! Isn't that exciting?"
"Yeah, just one more year here in hell," Veronica replied with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes.
***
"How was your last first day, Sweetheart?" Ms. Sawyer asked, handing her daughter a steaming plate of spaghetti with extra oregano.
Veronica swallowed tentatively. "Well," she replied, "I'm glad it's the last one."
***
Sep. 1st, 1989 (continued),
Dear Diary,
I don't know what I've gotten myself into, but it's been going just fine. If I keep my head down and avoid the Heathers, Senior year might even be fun! For now, I have the whole weekend to make my battle plan.
_____________________________________________________________________________
BEEP
BEEP
BEEP, Veronica's alarm wailed.
She groaned. "fuck off, it's Saturday."
"Veronica, sweetheart, you really need to get up," Her mother's voice interjected.
Veronica balked. "What? Mom, it's a weekend. We just got done with the last week."
"I know it can feel like that sometimes, but you're still going to school. No daughter of mine is missing her first day of senior year. Now get out of bed and get ready!"
***
September 1st, 1989 (again??)
Dear Diary,
What the fuck?
***
What kind of sick joke is this? This is the third damn September 1st I've seen. She marched towards her closet. I don't know what the fuck is going on here, but it sure as hell doesn't bode well for my sanity. Y'know what, maybe this is all just a dream, she assured herself, flinging the closet open. I'll wake up for real in a few minutes and go back to September 2nd. It's all just another stupid dream concocted by my stupid little traumatized brain-
"I assure you, Ms. Sawer, this isn't a dream," a smooth voice rasped. "Think of this as more of a game. You have two strikes left," The words came from all around. Veronica whirled to face the intruder, only to find nothing.
"W-What? What's going on? Where are you?" the brunette gasped.
"Your eyes can't see me, my dear," the voice spoke, "and that thesaurus won't save you."
Veronica glanced at her shaking hands, realizing her hands clung to the book for dear life. It was far too flimsy to inflict serious damage, especially against an enemy she couldn't see. She exhaled and straightened.
"I'm Time, Ms. Sawyer, and I've come to offer you a deal."
"What could, I don't know- something like... you possibly want from a boring old teenage girl?" She questioned.
"Don't sell yourself short, Ms. Sawyer. You're far from boring. So far from it, in fact, that you've become one of my favorite humans to observe," Time confessed. "So I've decided to give you another chance. Mr. Dean, your friend with the trenchcoat, caused a few... temporal anomalies with his actions. Let's just say he didn't kill the right Heather." Their words sent a shiver down Veronica's spine.
"As the lord of time, I have other duties to attend to. But you, my dear, are mortal. Fix your timeline, and make it interesting. Should you fail to treat the anomalies, you'll simply be back to your old timeline." Their voice began to fade.
"Wait!" Veronica called, "Mister Time-"
"Just Time."
"Just Time, er, whatever, you mentioned strikes earlier. What does that have to do with anything?"
"Clever girl," they purred. "I knew you were the right choice. You earn a strike whenever you cause a new anomaly or fail to meet your anomaly quota within your timeframe."
"Timeframe?" Veronica squeaked, eyes widening.
"Time is of the essence, my Dear," Time chuckled, and Veronica could feel their presence vanish.
A palm-sized bronze hourglass with black engravings materialized in front of her. The brunette examined it, admiring the intricate symbols emblazoned onto the metal.
She glanced at her alarm clock, noticing it still read 7AM exactly. It was like the whole exchange had never occurred.
Veronica shuddered. Something about this Time guy (well, being) and the symbols on the hourglass didn't sit right with her. But she knew what she had to do. She wasn't going back to her old life. Nothing good was left there.
Veronica dug around in her closet for something nice. As much as she loathed painful heels and itchy makeup, they were a necessary evil if she was going to do this right. She was off to find the Heathers. Time had said it themself, JD killed the wrong one.