Author's Note: Another victim of my desperate attempt at bringing more femslash into the Plateau, because it sure as heck deserves some. Veronica/Finn. You have been warned, don't like, don't read.
Timeline: Pre-Legacy, post-Tapestry (obviously) (That doesn't give us much space now, does it?)
Italics stand for thoughts or emphasis.
Please note that English is not my native language. If you spot any errors, let me know and I'll fix it.
Part 1: Finn's Song
Veronica is a survivor, like you are.
I don't know why he said that. I'm nothing like her! All is quiet tonight, as I'm lying in the bed I adopted in Veronica's treehouse, contemplating Challenger's words.
Veronica knows everything about everything. How can I possibly resemble that? Thoughts of the past are uncontrollably flooding my mind.
I was crouching in the corner, clutching my favorite teddy bear close to my chest. There were noises everywhere. Loud noises. Screams, explosions; it was all in this chaotic song of destruction I loathed.
Father had gone to check on the situation outside. He hadn't come back yet. Mother had been infected with the disease and knew her end was near. She was sitting on what used to be a chair, rocking back and forth and praying. Some still believed those pitiful chants could be heard over the dancing tones of our imminent doom.
She stopped and sat still, then turned her head swiftly and stared at me with a look of terror. But I couldn't see my mother in there anymore. She must have left with dad.
„It's all over, child."
My eyes widened as I realized she was right. The air stood still as well, and silence enveloped me so tightly I could barely breathe. I needed to find mommy and daddy. They were sure heading home by now, but I wanted to see them right now. I ran outside.
I was tackled by my mother and fell into one of the many deep craters made by the bombs. They formed more of a city than the city itself. I heard the whistle of guns and the drumming of grenades, until a hand with my mother's ring fell beside me with a thud, splattering blood all over the pit. And then… nothing.
I now realize I'm hugging my pillow. I let go of it, albeit reluctantly.
I admit, there is a similarity; Veronica lost her parents, too. But she still has hope of finding them. She didn't hear the song the way I did. We're not the same. No, that's where the similarities end, and since then, our lives went their separate ways. Didn't they?
Somebody had to stop this madman. I might have been little, and I might have only been a girl, but I was driven by vengeance. Vengeance is a powerful emotion.
In times like these, you find weapons and ammo scattered everywhere you go. I stumbled into one of the countless abandoned buildings, one that wasn't as demolished as the others and could provide hope and shelter for the night, away from all the fire.
It was then that I saw it, lying innocently on the dirty floor. A crossbow, made of silver which would shine if it ever got the chance. It was rather beautiful for a tool of Death.
I studied it cautiously for a good few minutes. I had rarely seen those in the grip of merciless soldiers. Guns were simply more appealing.
I'd seen too many people with a bullet in their chest. I didn't want to end up like them.
I caressed the crossbow. Here, amidst ashes, dirt and festering body parts, it seemed just as lonely as I was. We were both abandoned by those we loved the most.
Just as I was about to pick it up, I heard the all-too familiar noise of a rushing vehicle.
I froze with the crossbow pressed to my chest.
„Check this one! It looks safe enough for a few survivors to be hiding in there."
I liked that word; survivor. Was that who I was?
A tall, blonde guy jumped over the debris and got inside. He was wearing ragged clothes and his body almost made it seem like he just leapt out of one of those old movies with Sylvester Stallone. My dad had liked them.
The man also had one of those vessels of evil. A gun.
I clutched my teeth. When he saw me, he burst into laughter.
„Tony, you won't believe this! Get your ass over here and look what I found!"
He had to wipe tears of laughter off his face as he reached for his paralyzer. He didn't seem to mind the fact that I was armed.
To hell with this. I was a survivor, they had said it themselves. It would stay this way. I wasn't gonna let them drag me away! I grabbed a steel bolt off the ground and fired without thinking. Even though I'd never done this before, it hit the mark. I shot the hunter in the stomach and swept that smug grin off of his face.
„What the fuck's going on, Jace?" I heard the other man shouting from somewhere behind me, but I didn't turn around or even slow down. I kept running for my life, for minutes, hours, maybe days even, until I passed out. I never let go of my newfound weapon.
I glance at said crossbow lying on the table. I'm not going to get any sleep tonight, provoking memories like these back on the surface. I sigh, get up, and decide to wander through the treehouse. Passing by Veronica's room, I peek in to see her sleeping peacefully with her back facing me. How can she be so calm? She's nothing like me.
I check the kitchen to see if there's any leftover fruit or raptor meat, but, apparently, I'm not even destined to satisfy my hunger tonight. Oh well. I smile as I remember how hungry Roxton tends to be when he comes home after a long day of hunting.
Veronica has always had a home. The treehouse, the forest it's in, the entire freaking Plateau is her home. Me? It's been a long time since I used that word.
I walk over to the wooden fence and look over into the depths of the wilderness. It seems suspiciously tamed at night, with only some of those bugs (that fascinate Challenger for some reason) talking in a language I can't understand.
I spot a handprint of Alex the Lava Man burnt into the fence. Oh yes, the gang told me that story. Too bad that Lionel guy was such a douche. It's good they stopped him; I've seen enough worlds destroyed for a lifetime.
I absentmindedly put the palm of my hand onto the damaged wood. Alex's hand was much bigger than mine.
Suddenly, I hear someone walking behind me. I turn around to see the shaded figure of Veronica Layton in the darkness. She walks over next to me and rests her elbows on the fence. We both stand there, watching the blackness spread.
„Can't sleep?" she asks, a hint of concern evident in her voice. After all, we have become quite fond of each other.
I nod. „You?"
„Neither," she confirms. Turns out I was wrong. „I suppose the boys told you about where the handprint came from?" she asks as she points her finger at the location of my hand.
„Yeah." I withdraw. Then there is silence.
I don't know if she can read my thoughts or is thinking the same, but she says something I'm not expecting.
„You still have a family, just as I do."
I snap. „Would you stop it with the comparing?" I hiss angrily. „You have no idea what I've been through!"
She glances at me. „You have no idea what I've been through," she replies, her expression unchanged but her voice stone cold, like iron cutting through my flesh. „What are we to you, then?"
I close my eyes and bury my face in my hands. What are they to me? Guides? Guardians? Shelter?
My eyes open wide in realization. I can almost sense Veronica smiling. „There's not much of a difference between us and a family, Finn. You're a part of it," she says and rests her hand on my shoulder. It feels… warm.
I panic. I look at her, on the verge of tears, which is something that hasn't happened in years. „What am I to you?" I can hear my voice shaking and silently curse my vocal chords.
„A good person."
For a brief moment, both of us stop being survivors and become human again, as I let down my guard, stop denying my body the desire to lean into Veronica's embrace and cry.
Perhaps Challenger was right. Perhaps we ain't so different after all.