Title: "President of Nothing"
Author: Lila
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Warnings through "Leave it to Beaver
Pairing/Character: Duncan/Veronica
Length: one-shot
Summary: Whenever we experience a significant loss in our lives, we experience grief. For Duncan, it comes in five stages.
Author's Note: This story was originally supposed to start a three-part series, but evolved into its own thing entirely. Most of the time I'm a LoVe 'shipper, but D/V really intrigue me as well, and I've wanted to tackle them for the longest time. This is the result. I've also never written in second person before, but it made sense for this story and I hope it works. Hope you enjoy.
"The lunatic is in my head.
The lunatic is in my head.
You raise the blade, you make the change
You re-arrange me 'til I'm sane.
You lock the door
And throw away the key
There's something in my head, but it's not me."
- "Brain Damage," Pink Floyd
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Denial
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When you broke up with Veronica you made sure to look directly in her eyes to make sure they weren't your own. They were blue, like yours, and filled with tears, like the ones you were trying to hide, and made you think of the Postal Service song Troy always played before he dipped out on her the way everyone in her life had before. Afterwards, you made sure to never look in her eyes again. You'd see her talking with Lilly, their heads bent so close they blended into one another, and wondered if Veronica was speaking through Lilly's lips, holding her books with your father's hands, if she brushed Grandma Kane's hair back from her face.
But then she'd smile – full and wide and beautiful – and you wouldn't see a single trace of Lilly in her face, a single trace of yourself. When you closed your eyes or English class got too boring, you'd see yourself in the backseat of your SUV with her nails scraping across your chest and your free hand fiddling with the clasp of her bra and you knew she couldn't share your blood or your father or your legacy. She already had your popularity. She already had your friends. She already had Lilly. It had to be enough.
Your mother's words echoed in your mind, when you were kissing other girls or holding Meg close, "She's your sister, Duncan. Do you understand what that means?" Yeah, you get what that means. You passed biology. You understand DNA. You understand that the only girl you ever loved is the only girl that's really, truly off-limits. You understand that even Lilly's approval – and passing muster from Princess Kane is huge – isn't enough to triumph blood. And when she finally looks at you, blue eyes locking with your own, you want to pretend you don't see yourself.
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Anger
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You had your first "episode" in years the day after you broke up with Veronica. Logan was over and you were drinking by the pool to forget, and your parents came home early. The scene after Homecoming didn't compare to the bottle of Jack your mother pulled from under your chaise, or the flask Logan didn't quite manage to hide in his board shorts. And by the time your father got there, it was too much.
Your mom once said, on a home video you wished you'd never seen, that your father's best feature were his eyes. You loved your father. You trusted him. You respected him – or at least you did, until he took away the most important thing in your life. And when he stood there, talking in a voice that sounded too familiar, moving lips you could swear you'd kissed before, looking at you through eyes you'd made spill tears not a day earlier, it all caught up with you.
Your parents think it's your disease, and maybe it is. Logan thinks you lost your mind, and maybe you did. Maybe learning that your perfect father was more of a coward then you ever imagined broke your respect. Maybe learning that your father was weak and selfish broke your trust. Maybe learning that your father let you kiss and caress and love a girl that he created, simply broke you.
When your hands wrapped around his throat and he gasped, your same eyes filling with tears and his cheeks darkening, it didn't feel wrong. Like if you could make him go away, he'd take his genes with him. That if Jake Kane no longer existed, things could go back to the way they were before and Veronica could be yours again. You felt your mother pulling on your shoulders, Logan prying your fingers from your father's throat, and knew it was all a dream. Tomorrow your pill count would go up and your father would wear a turtleneck to work and Veronica would still be gone – and there was nothing you could do to change it.
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Bargaining
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You don't believe in things like fate or destiny, because if you did your first love wouldn't share your father, and your other sister wouldn't be dead. But you do think you believe in karma, because you've had your share of payback.
After your mother told you the truth and effectively ended the only life you knew how to live, you made a deal with god or yaweh or whatever people were calling him these days. You'd give up anything, anything that mattered to you, if it meant you could turn back time and make Veronica not your sister. Like Superman, when he saved Lois from the earthquake and got to keep the thing that mattered to him most.
You never wanted Lilly to die – but you wanted Veronica to come back. And when you found Lilly broken and bloody, still beautiful and fabulous in her Lilly way, you wondered what kind of deal you'd made. You knew to be careful what you wished for, but you never expected this. You knew you didn't kill your sister, but as your parents shoved pills down your throat and cleaned your face and washed your clothes, you wondered if it maybe wasn't your fault anyway. You hadn't bashed your sister's brains in. You hadn't left her to bleed on the pool deck and burn in the sunlight. But maybe you still made it happen. And when Veronica wrapped her arms around your knees and pleaded with you to talk, tears pooling in your father's eyes, you knew it was your fault. Your sister was dead. Your beloved, spoiled, selfish sister was dead – and Veronica was standing right in front of you, breathing and alive and whole. You never planned it, but that didn't you make you any less responsible. You might as well have swung the ashtray yourself.
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Depression
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You know you've changed. You know there are things you don't remember, things you choose to forget, and you like it that way. You've seen shrinks, seen Ms. James, and sometimes you tell them the truth, even as you lie to yourself. You know why you take the pills. You know why you glide through life rather then living it. You know why you choose to forget. You don't need a fancy therapist to tell you these things, or even a guidance counselor itching to get published.
You know Lilly's not really watching you, that you don't really hear her laughter in the distance, that she's not grinning at you behind your back. But you still feel her with you. You took AP Psych – you know it's the guilt, because you made a deal with the devil and Lilly died and Veronica still isn't yours. She still watches you with eyes you swear are looking back at her, and when her fingers brush over yours as she slides the Tritons photos into your hand, you pretend your sister's touch doesn't shoot a spear of heat through you.
The pills make it easier. The pills make everything easier. They let you pretend you didn't kill one sister and aren't lusting after the other. They let you pretend you and Logan aren't drifting in separate directions. They let you pretend he isn't drifting closer to Veronica. They let you pretend you aren't angry and bitter and so freaking jealous you want to do more damage than bang away at your SUV with a shovel. It's when the pills aren't there, that you have to remember. You know you have to let them go. You know you have to step up and be brave in ways your father never could. You know it will suck and hurt, but you owe it to Lilly. She only hurt for a few moments, but she'd never get to hurt again – you can hurt forever because it means you'll get to live.
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Acceptance
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There are moments you can pinpoint when your life changed forever. The first time you scraped your knees, your first kiss, your first hard-on, the day your mother told you that your girlfriend is also your sister, the day found your other sister dead on your parents' pool deck. Standing in your bedroom that's spun countless fantasies, inches away from the only girl you think you'll ever love, she tells you that she's not your sister. And you realize you're having another one of those moments. You can't breathe and you want to smile and before you can reach out and touch her without feeling dirty and wrong, she's gone.
The next time you see her she's bloody and bruised and you see flashes of Lilly, blood spilling from her head, matting her blonde hair, and you think god's pissing on you all over again. You didn't make another deal. You didn't want this. You can't lose Veronica too. But then her you see her chest rising and falling with exertion, realize she's standing on her own two feet and she's nothing but alive, and you can breathe again. She turns to her father – her real father – as your father is chained up and hauled away, and despite how fucked up your life has just become, everything feels right again.
Veronica is not your sister. The girl you love like that is not your sister. It's okay that when you're popping the buttons on Meg's straight-laced blouses, you picture Veronica instead. The pills are gone and the guilt starts to fade. Lilly is dead, six feet under and buried, but Veronica is within reach.
When you arrive at her place it's well past midnight and she's still bruised but beautiful. She smiles at you and opens the door and it's awkward because you've spent the last two years avoiding her while she wondered what she did for you to trample all over her heart. You sit on a couch you don't recognize while she slips a cup of tea in your hands and tells you the whole story. Fills in what happened after you watched your sister – your one and only sister – have sex on tape. It's harsh and gruesome and you wonder if you'll ever be friends with Logan again. But all that doesn't seem to matter, because Veronica is talking to you and smiling at you and her fingers are crawling up your forearm and it's beginning to feel too familiar.
You don't want to ask her to stop. You've wanted this for days and weeks and months, but you want it to be right. You don't want a repeat of Shelly's party. You don't think you can bear to watch her cry again. You tell her to stop, she's upset and will just regret it in the morning, but when her lips press against yours and it feels like it used to and different all at the same time, you can't protest. You want this too bad. You want her too bad. You want your old life too bad.
Her fingers work the buttons of your shirt and slide across your chest and you gasp, because it's been too long since it's been this right. "What are you doing?" you ask against her mouth, hands tangling in hair that's getting back to normal.
She smiles. "I always wanted you to be my first." And then she snakes her free hand around the nape of your neck and pulls you down on the couch. "For real this time."
You've never been able to say no to her. You can't start now.
You know this isn't gonna be forever. You know too much time has passed and too much has changed and you're not the same people anymore. Logan isn't out of the picture, and you have a nagging feeling she loves him far more then she ever tried to love you. But you don't care. It had to happen – for both of you – so you can move on and get on with life. Lilly would want you to live.
When you leave that morning you kiss her cheek and watch her sleep for a few moments in the morning light, and leave a note this time. You think she'll like it that way. It's like last time, but better. You're not siblings. You're not drugged. You knew what you were doing. You got to enjoy it.
You're not getting back together. In a few hours she'll be scouring the town for Logan and you'll be attending your father's bail hearing. Meg will have left a thousand voicemails on your phone and your mother will have left twice as many. You'll run into each other on the beach or at school, and you'll be friends. It will be okay when you undress her with your eyes, or pretend every blonde girl you meet is the one that got away. She'll forgive you for the last two years, and you'll forgive yourself.
Lilly is still dead. Your father is still your father. And Veronica is still gone. But for one night you got what you wanted, what you needed. It feels kind of nice. And you know for sure that Lilly didn't die in vain.
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