Chapter Text
The angry sound of a car alarm draws Weevil’s attention as he trudges past the garage.
The part of him that used to be a criminal automatically marks it as something American, couple of years old. Probably some sort of SUV, solid enough to get you out of a crash alive, but not worth stealing. Better off choosing something older and easier to steal, or higher end. Like everything in Neptune, choosing the right car to boost comes down to pleasing the jackasses who buy hot cars. Not that he is in that business, not these days.
He considers ignoring it. He started today with filling in at his uncle’s garage because one of his boys had failed to show up for work, and then graduated to a full shift of unclogging dorm drains stuffed with sorority girls’ hair, and covering up bad graffiti left by bored frat boys. Some spoiled asshole is probably just sitting on his keys. Not his business. Not when the asshole gets to park nice and handy next to the Services building, and Weevil has more than a mile to walk to where the suckers who actually work for a living have to park.
And then he remembers what happened to Anita. Some asshole backed into her car and took off, leaving her with a car she couldn’t drive and repairs she couldn’t afford. This doesn’t sound like a BMW or anything an 09er would drive. And without a bystander, you’d never have a hope of getting anyone to pay up.
He is already walking faster, so he guesses he is checking it out.
It isn’t an accident, though. He turns the corner and instead of a smashed up vehicle he sees some white dude bending over a blonde on the ground, hand grabbing her long hair. He must shout without realizing it because the guy drops something and takes off. Weevil starts to chase after him, but stops dead in his tracks when he realizes who the woman on the ground is.
“V? Hey, Veronica, you okay...” Weevil races over and kneels to the ground, looking for signs of injury. There is nothing that explains the dazed look in her eyes.
“Weevil? You have to…” Veronica’s panic bleeds through her grogginess. She doesn’t smell of alcohol but she is definitely not all right, and shock doesn’t account for all of it.
“He’s long gone, Veronica, saw me and took off . Who was that? What happened?”
“You know the Hearst rapist? Pretty sure that’s him,” Veronica says with a surprising amount of sarcastic flair before passing out. Weevil is just able to get his arm under her head before it hits the pavement.
Of course he has heard about the Hearst rapist. Everyone has. But that is different from seeing him with your own eyes. Hearing that someone had assaulted and raped girls he didn’t know is different from almost seeing it happen to the one girl on campus who means shit to him.
His first instinct is to go after the asshole, chase him down and beat the living shit out of him. But that would mean leaving Veronica. He takes a deep breath, trying to remember what all those bullshit anger management counselors kept telling him. Refocus. Assess the situation at hand.
Going after the guy is pointless: He won’t catch up. Even if he does, all he will have accomplished is to get himself sent back to jail for reoffending. And he can’t help Veronica if he is beating up her attacker, he realizes, stroking a shaking hand over her long, blonde hair.
Other than a small patch of hair missing at the nape of her neck, Veronica appears unmolested. Not that you could say a girl who’d been drugged was unmolested, he thinks angrily. He is pretty sure that is the reason for her lack of consciousness, given the lack of a head wound: date rape drugs. He guesses she had her quick thinking to thank for that it wasn’t more than that, with her use of the car alarm as a panic button. That thought reminds him that the alarm is still going. He reaches over and grabs her keys in order to turn it off.
Of course, if he hadn’t gotten off a little bit late because he got waylaid by a sophomore girl who swore her window kept sticking, despite him finding no evidence of it… well he doesn’t want to think about what would have happened. He has cousins, sisters, aunts. He’s seen what can happen: struggles with the weight of it, twisting into something else: fierce and bitter or wilting and shaky.
With a shudder he realizes that he can’t think of Veronica like that. He just needs to get her out of here, to know she is alright. Veronica doesn’t seem like she is waking up, so Weevil figures he better get her to a hospital just in case. So he unlocks Veronica’s car and carries her over to the passenger side, careful to make sure that her head doesn’t hit the doorframe as he settles her into the seat and fastens the seat belt. He hopes that Sheriff Mars will give him a ride back to his own car later.
Starting the engine and backing out of the parking spot, Weevil keeps glancing over to check on Veronica… like maybe he is afraid she will stop breathing.
His overwhelming relief that Veronica isn’t about to be one of this pervert’s victims makes him feel sort of shitty. There have already been a bunch. Does he really think that Veronica matters but they don’t? He hasn’t given much thought to them, hasn’t made an effort to try and spot weird behavior, hasn’t even really thought of it as a real problem until just now. Even though he’s seen rape fuck up women he knows and cares about, he didn’t give a shit until it was Veronica. Even now, he has to admit that his anger is specific. He’s chosen to stay with Veronica over possibly catching this creep and if, no when, he takes his next victim it will partly be on Weevil that it happened.
Veronica wakes up, interrupting his descent into self loathing. She’s disoriented, straining against the seat belt, eyes searching wildly.
“Shsshh. It’s okay, V. Whoever he is, he ran when I came in. You passed out so I’m taking you to the ER.”
He reaches out to touch her shoulder but stops short, remembering the way his cousin Anna had flinched any time someone walked up behind her, even months later. Weevil tracked down the guy who’d done it. He tracked him down and beat him bloody, but that couldn’t stop Anna from jumping at the slightest noise.
“I don’t need a hospital but...can you pull over?” Veronica asks, too quietly for her.
He obliged. She fumbles with the seat belt and made it outside just in time to puke into the gutter. He has the urge to hold her hair back, but thinks the better of it. Veronica is proud and it is probably better that he give her whatever dignity of distance he can. So he stays in the driver’s seat of her car and stares straight ahead, even though a huge part of him wants to rush out and comfort her in some way.
“I guess that’s one for the ‘I owe you’ column,” Veronica braves, climbing back in with a brittle smile, “I had no idea that whoever he was he’d be brazen enough to poison a soda in the middle of the dining hall. Silly me.”
“No. Veronica, this isn’t something that goes on the score sheet of who owes who more favors. I am just glad I happened to be nearby. Christ! Sometimes I swear...”
He is not sure what he was about to swear but he doubts it would have been productive.
Weevil feels his jaw start to clench at Veronica’s attempt to be flippant and reduce all this down to something worth bantering about. He isn’t sure what gets under his skin more: her trying to act like this isn’t a big deal or her still treating their dynamic as a checklist of favors to be traded. Over the last few years, there have been times when he thinks there has been some unspoken understanding between them, but then she goes and says things like this, or reacts the way that she did after the casino robbery. Times like this it is clear she doesn’t fucking get it, or him, at all.
Veronica’s phone rings before either of them has a chance to say any more. “Logan” it says on the screen. Figures. Deep fucking breaths. He reminds himself: more anger management mumbo jumbo. He wills his face into what he hopes is a neutral expression.
Veronica’s thumb hovers for a moment before hitting “Reject Call”.
“Any chance I could convince you not to take me to either the ER or home?” she ventures, hitting him with the familiar head tilt, her oh-so-obvious attempt to manipulate him. She has to know he will see right through it, but she uses it anyway. Maybe because it works anyway, he admits sourly.
“My head is anything but clear and, it sounds so stupid now, but my dad and I . . . we have kind of been arguing… I’m just not ready to face him yet.”
“Sure thing. Whatever you need,” he snaps, “I live to serve. The Neptune Grand then?”
He wants her to know he isn’t fooled, that he knows this is about her wanting to rush into Logan Echolls’ waiting arms. He knows he is an asshole for being angry while she is still upset, when she has just been attacked, but he can’t bring himself to care.
Veronica surprises him with a sigh, “Last thing in the world I want now… Well maybe not the last but it is NOT at the top of my list,” She backtracks, obviously realizing that she’s just been in a worse situation than whatever drama she is having with her jackass 09er boyfriend.
“Does that mean you want to talk about it?”
He isn’t sure how he wants her to respond to that, whether he even has it in him to rehash this all over again. It isn’t like they don’t both know that her dating Logan annoys the hell out of him.
“Let’s just say, privileged assholes don’t magically wake up one day and stop being selfish and destructive.”
“Gee. I could have told you that.”
“Spare me the lecture. No one likes a smartass.”
“I’m not so sure about that, V. I mean I kind of like you sometimes...”
That is the fucking understatement of the year. He is pretty sure they both know it, or would if she bothered to think about it for half a second or he had the cajones to actually admit the truth.
“Which is it? The smarts or the ass?” she counters, just like old times.
It isn’t old times though, so he doesn’t tell her that she wishes. Somehow he can’t dredge up that old bravado strongly enough to cover for that fact that it’s a lot more than either. For a moment though, things almost feel normal.
Then her phone starts buzzing again only to be resolutely ignored.
“If there is one thing I can say for that boy… He is persistent. He will keep calling, you know.”
“I can’t talk to him right now. Please...”
Weevil picks it up, a small part of him relishing the chance to get a dig in at Logan.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you right now, Echolls. You see when they ignore your phone calls... that’s usually what that means.”
“Weevil? What the hell are you doing with Veronica’s phone?!”
Weevil hangs up. If he stays on the line… Well he and Logan aren’t known for their civility towards one another. He silences the damned thing too.
“I’ve been investigating the rapes,” Veronica starts, responding to the question he’s been trying not to ask. His concern must be written all over his face, because Veronica glares at him even though he hasn’t said a thing. “I can’t just leave it up to Lamb. This is too important!”
“I didn’t figure you could, V. And it seems like maybe you are getting close, if he felt threatened.”
They both know what comes next. She fidgets with the sun vizor, trying to avoid making eye contact. He takes a deep breath, trying to resist saying something that will send her running in the opposite direction.
“I just… Veronica…” Everything that wants to come out of his mouth is wrong so he closes it, willing something better to come along. Eventually it sort of works because Veronica looks over to him, trying to anticipate his next move.
“Look,” he settles for, meeting her eyes and twisting his body toward her in the seat, “I’m not a fancy PI, but this girl I knew once told me I made decent muscle. Someone to watch your back?”
“Deal,” she agrees way too easily for him to believe for a minute that she means it, “Too bad I can’t sic you on Logan…”
“Who says you can’t?” Weevil counters, almost wishing he was kidding.
“Fair enough. Too bad it wouldn’t solve anything.”
“Would now be an appropriate time for me to list the reasons why you shouldn’t even be wasting your time with that spoiled gringo asshole?”
Weevil knows that is never going to be a productive addition to any conversation with her. She has some mad feelings about Logan Echolls, every bit as much as Lilly had. He doesn’t think about Lilly so much these days, but sitting in Veronica’s car talking about whether Logan is a bad boyfriend is bringing the memories back.
She must notice the parallel too; because she says, “Is that what you told Lilly?”
That knocks the wind right out of him. He was about to go off about Logan, but now he has no clue how to respond. They have never talked about Lilly. Whenever possible she sticks to cases, favors, and harmless flirtatious banter that he knows doesn’t mean anything at all. They avoid talking about Logan, but this - this is taboo. And Weevil doesn’t know what to feel about that.
And what the hell is Veronica thinking, anyway? Maybe it is the lingering effects of the drugs. What the docs call trauma? He hasn’t got a freaking clue . All he knows is that Veronica Mars has bought up the girl whose ghost seems to have more life than most of the people walking around Neptune.
He isn’t about to lose this game of chicken to Veronica Mars.
“Sometimes I think it was what she wanted me to do,” he answers, deciding: fuck it why not. It’s not like talking about her can do any more damage at this point that not talking about her has. “It was probably just a way to stroke her ego. It’s not like I don’t get that, but she sure did like to paint a picture to me about how unhappy she was with him…”
“You and me both,” Veronica replies, gaze fixed away from him, “What were you supposed to tell her? That she could do so much better?”
Sometimes these days he almost forgets that Veronica had been Lilly’s best friend, that she told her everything that really mattered. Of course, that meant that he didn’t really matter. He had always known that, even when he maybe wanted to believe otherwise, but there is maybe a small part of him that wants to hold on to the idea that maybe he did.
“Is that what you would tell me? If I said yes… If I asked you to tell me why I shouldn’t be with Logan?” Veronica turns around sharply to look him in the eyes.
“Pretty sure it would be a better option than giving you the spiel I gave her, the one that goes something like ‘I’d never let you feel alone’ and ‘Just let me show you how much better it can be.’ You know, that kind of crap.”
It is his turn to stare out the windshield, away from her. Normally he would make a joke out of it, wink and suggest that maybe she wanted that all along, for him to profess his undying love, but not now.
He doesn’t know why she suddenly wants to talk about Lilly, but he doesn’t want to go back to avoiding it… not when he’s finally getting the chance. It’s not like there are a lot of people he can do this with, not that knew her like Veronica did. Now that they are talking, actually talking, he realizes he has always wanted to talk with Veronica about Lilly, but instead he’s hidden behind banter, just like with everything else.
“Tell you what.” Veronica interrupts the thought, “If I ever do decide I want you to talk me out of dating Logan, I’ll let you know which version of the speech I’m looking for.”
“Deal,” he agrees. He knows they will never have that conversation, or at least not that version of it. That was what Lilly wanted to hear - she got off on hearing how much he wanted her. But Veronica isn’t Lilly. She likes having leverage of a different kind. Getting the better of someone. Oneupsmanship . Veronica isn’t interested in the straight power of someone finding her desirable, even though she uses it to her advantage when she feels it is needed.
Even though it would be the truth.
And it’s that cliff he can’t bring himself to go over so he shuts up instead. They can joke about it, he can tease her about her undying lust for him, but actually admitting that he really does want that, or at least he would, if he let himself think of it as an option that is every bit as off limits as talking about Lilly has been. He can’t even bring himself to think it directly, instead cutting the thought off in his head, relegating it to his subconscious to leak out through dreams and into decisions he doesn’t even realize he is making. And sometimes, it spills over into the things that come out of his mouth, without him meaning it to. Times like this, uncomfortable silence is the better option.
Back when he still had his bike, he’d picked her up from awkward situations but the silence hadn’t been awkward. On a bike you can’t talk, even if you want to. You just hold on, pressed together against the roaring of the world speeding by. In retrospect, that is just one more thing he would miss about how things used to be, if he let himself miss it. In the luxury of Veronica’s new car, the moments stretch out painfully. He wants to ask her how she is doing and whether she is okay, but he knows those questions are stupid and selfish.
“If you aren’t ready to go home, are you at all interested in getting something to eat, possibly of the drive through variety?” he finally suggests.
“I guess that is a good idea… since I lost my last meal. Maybe that In-N-Out right up the road?” she agrees, hugging her arms to her chest.
Weevil starts the engine back up and pulled back onto the road. Veronica’s phone continues to buzz angrily in the cup holder. He reaches over to stop it, since she seems intent on ignoring the fact, but then he sees who is calling.
“V, it’s your dad,” he tells her, handing the phone over. She stares at it for a minute before rejecting the call.
“Not that it is any of my business, but you and the sheriff always seemed like you had a good thing, as far as parents go…”
If Veronica is shutting all the people close to her out of her life… well. Weevil is flattered to be the exception but he is also worried. He knows firsthand how dangerous it can be not having anyone close to have your back.
“I don’t want to talk about it. “
Weevil holds up his hands in the air briefly to signify that he is backing off.
“You know. Lamb is a complete and utter asshole, but I should probably take you to report this. When pretty white college girls are getting assaulted, that’s the kind of thing even that jerk has to take seriously.”
“Fine. You are right. I should talk to my dad. Take me home?” Veronica admits suddenly, changing the topic and slumping back in her seat. She looks small and vulnerable, but also dangerous, like a cornered animal.
“As you wish,” he replies, another coward’s confession.
He wants to say more, but he knows better. Besides, the turn of phrase itself is an confession, if she chooses to take the hint. He knows V has seen The Princess Bride approximately a million times, just like everyone else in the world. So she knows what Wesley really means when he tells Buttercup that same worn out phrase. It’s exactly the kind of admission that is allowed, playful and easily ignored.
Veronica reluctantly accepts his arm for support after she stumbles getting out of the car. Adrenaline has worn off and he can feel her trembling slightly. He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arm more firmly around her, guiding her across the courtyard and towards her apartment door.
Keith Mars is sitting on the couch when the door opens but he is on his feet to embrace his daughter in a flash.
Weevil looks away from the father-daughter embrace, trying not to notice the tears in Veronica’s eyes. He would walk right back out of the door, if it wasn’t for the fact that he needs a ride back to his car and he doesn’t really have anyone to call. So instead he gets to witness this Kodak moment of family love and “I’m so sorry” and “I should have trusted you”.
The last time Weevil hugged his father he was seven years old. His dad had dropped him off at his grandmother’s for the afternoon and just never came back.
“Mijo,” he’d said, “You be good for your abuela while I am gone.”
Then he’d hugged him, something seven year old Eli associated with those brief stints when his papi had honest work, those times when his mom would make an effort to fix up her hair and it would seem like maybe everything was going to be okay this time around.
It never was okay. Mama never got over him leaving and that was when her drug habit spiraled way out of control. He was living with his grandmother within six months of his dad’s departure.
Veronica may have lost her mother, but she still has a father who cares about her. Weevil had only had his abuela, and he had let her down. That had brought on her heart attack just as much as shitty medical care and too much hard work.
The Mars family seems to suddenly remember that Weevil is there and Keith settles Veronica on the couch and walks over toward him.
“Eli...” he starts, Weevil is reminded of being 10 years old and caught shoplifting by the sheriff, but the worried tone in Keith Mars’ voice isn’t directed towards him this time.
“Sheriff,” he replies, shaking the offered hand.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am that you were there.”
“Just luck really,” he insists, looking down at the ground.
“Listen, I know you and I have had our differences, but I know that when it comes to Veronica…”
“I am sitting right here,” Veronica breaks in, “I’ve been drugged, not deafened.”
They both turn to face her and see the forced smile which Weevil knows is a warning. He is pretty sure her dad does too.
“Dad, Weevil drove my car home for me. Can you give him a ride back to campus? Before you argue… I’ve got Backup here to look after me and I’m fine, just need a little peace and quiet without you two hovering over me.”
Backup stares up at them from the floor by Veronica’s feet, emphasizing her point.
“You aren’t just saying this because you want me to grab ice cream on the way home, are you?”
“Well now that you mention it…”
“I can take a hint. If you’re sure, honey...”
“I’m positive. I promise, you can fuss as much as you want when you get back.”
“I’m going to hold you to that,” he warns, shaking a finger at his daughter.
“Better make it two cartons of rocky road then,” she counters, as he reaches for his keys on the counter.
Weevil wants to say something, to tell her he is there if she needs him, but it all sounds cliche and stupid even in his head so he just hands Veronica her car keys and heads towards the door.
“I know you probably feel like I’ve been hard on you, Eli,” the sheriff resumes once they were in the car. Sometimes it is surreal hearing his given name, even though there are fewer and fewer people who use his nickname these days, “When you first started hanging around Veronica, well I acted like the sheriff, even though I wasn’t anymore.”
“Not a lot of dads want their teenage daughters hanging out with gangbangers.”
Weevil wonders if Keith Mars remembers the first time they met, the day Weevil found his moms on the bathroom floor and his abuela tried to call 911 but she was so panicked that she kept slipping into Spanish. He was only in third grade but Weevil had to take the phone and talk to the dispatcher for her. Probably in a larger town, the sheriff’s department wouldn’t have shown up to check out an overdose in the barrio, but Deputy Mars had shown up to see what was going on. He’d tried to shield little Eli from what he’d already seen. He’d been patient with him, let him check out the cop car and generally done his best to distract him while the paramedics cleared the body away.
When he started getting in trouble with the law, Weevil felt a twinge of guilt whenever it was the sheriff who picked him up for shoplifting or graffiti.
“It turns out that Veronica was lucky to have you be her friend, Eli. You have always been there for her, even when the rest of us couldn’t be.”
“I am the one who’s lucky.” He means it. Veronica didn’t need to give him the time of day, especially this last year, but she kept doing it anyway, even though Weevil knows he has outlived most of his usefulness. “Your daughter, sheriff, she’s…”
He doesn’t know what to say or how to say it. He knows the sheriff is making an effort here. He’s just not sure how to respond. It isn’t like Keith Mars doesn’t know that his daughter has helped Weevil out when no one else would have, even if he doesn’t know why any more than Weevil does himself.
“You know, you really don’t have to call me that. I haven’t been the sheriff in three years. You could call me Keith.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Mars.” Weevil compromises.
“I guess I‘m trying to say that I appreciate the way you have Veronica’s back. Being a parent, it is hard to let your kid grow up, and I feel better knowing she has you around.”
“There are a lot of people who care about her, more than she realizes.”
Much more than she’ll ever realize, he promises himself.
“And Eli.” Sheriff Mars adds, as he stops the car to let Weevil out, “When Veronica goes after this creep, make sure she takes you with her.”
“That is the plan.” Weevil replies, opening the door and stepping out, “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Mars.”
He does not expect to find Logan Echolls leaning against his car when he finally reaches it.