(no subject)

"We find the defendant... not guilty."

---

The reporters, the fans, are all lined up before the courthouse. Cameras flash. Voices cheer, scream. Aaron Echolls makes his way down the courthouse stairs - he's smiling, waving, always the celebrity.

So this is how it is. The innocent suffer, the guilty go free, and truth and fiction are pretty much interchangable.

They ask him questions and he answers with sincerity - almost too much of it. For Veronica, who knows the truth, the words are smug and boastful.

Her fingernails dig in to the crook of her elbow as she stands in the crowd, arms crossed, and she makes an effort to fight back the bile.

There is neither a Santa Claus, nor an Easter Bunny. And there are no angels watching over us. Things just happen for no reason.

Her dad touches her, gently, but it's a fight not to snap at him. She has to snap at something.

"Hey," he says.

They leave.

And nothing makes any sense.

---

The newspaper headline reads Echolls Acquitted and the accompanying picture shows Aaron, smiling, waving in front of the courthouse.

Veronica wants to burn it.

"Hey." Keith grabs away the paper. "We will not do this. You can't let this stick in your head, however wrong it turned out. We're people with lives and we will not obsess. We move on." He sighs, and folds the paper, looking grave. "Aaron Echolls will get justice in his own way."

"You really believe that?" she asks, disbelieving.

His answer is immediate. "Yes. Now... come on, look alive." Because it's the Mars way to joke, too soon, he adds, "We have a business to run here," before retreating to his office.

But that doesn't stop Veronica from sulking until the fax machine rings to life. She checks the message, and shakes her head, calling in to her father. "What happened to moving on?"

He glances up.

"Posted today. Meg's dad, offering twenty grand for the capture of Woody Goodman."

"Well." He takes the fax, and glances it over only briefly before handing it back. "I'm sure someone will get him."

Veronica stares at him, boggled. This is Woody Gooman. He molested his little league team. He blew up a bus full of kids. "Didn't you say something about, 'We have a business to run'? Shouldn't you be out hunting him down, like the dog he is?"

"Yeah, but I also said something about us being people with lives. See, I have this kid..."

Veronica rolls her eyes, but Keith continues, unperturbed:

"... she's graduating from high school, I don't want to miss it..." He grins.
"Guess I'm just sentimental."

Veronica gives him one last flat look. "Sure. Right. Well, I'm going to work. You know... at my job? You might want to try that, sometime."

Keith chuckles until she's left the office, then casually reaches over and fishes the newspaper out of the trash bin.

Neptune High Graduation

Graduation at Neptune High is an event. Always has been. Neptune's rich and famous love to see their children all done up, and this event is no exception.

The auditorium is decked out in Pirate colours, green and yellow, and everything matches - the banners, the balloons, the gowns. There's an air of excitment, of pride, of anxiety.

Up on stage, Van Clemmons starts calling names.

(no subject)

One left.

Veronia is kicking herself for not thinking of this earlier. What are the things that Woody Goodman is known for? Owning the Sharks. Being the "mayor of Neptune". And owning a chain of vanity hamburger joints.

She remembers coming here years and years ago, bouncing in the back seat of their car as her dad asked her, "Where should we go for lunch?" It's still that kind of place: bright primary colours and a goofy cartoon mascot. The specific joint Veronica enters doesn't have a ball pit, but one would fit right in.

Of course nowadays, Veronica muses, I'd rather be - heh - strapped down to an anthill than be seen in one of these places. But hey, desperate times...

The photographs are on display to the right of the counter, lined up behind trophies the teams have won. As a sponsorship note, a point of pride, all of the Little League Sharks teams for the past fifteen years or so are up there, grinning down. It doesn't take her long to find the appropriate year.

And there he is, the missing kid: she taps him with a finger then follows the photograph down, taking in the caption.

Front Row (L to R): Derek Applegate

And that's it. Veronica takes a small, grim sigh - it's over. It's just begun.

"Derek Applegate. Who are you, and where do you live...?"

All that's left is to find him, and to --

No. Veronia looks again at the photograph, the caption. She leans closer, frowning, seeing one last line.

Not Pictured:

She'd been barking up the wrong tree. If there were boys who weren't in the photo at all, then there was no way that she ever could have used that alone to...

Not Pictured:

No.




Cassidy Casablancas.




No.








The bright colours of the restaurant go into a spin, and Veronica feels like she's falling --

And suddenly it all --

I never touched
woody needs to pay for what he
she's a golddigger
there was a bomb on the
you're already
i have what?
rented a room at the
detonated by
had to be close enough to
meg -
mac -
close your eyes and think of england.

-- Makes sense.




"Oh, God."





Veronica throws up.