A/N: My first VMars fic and I wanted to write Dick. Go figure. Takes place after S2, before S3. My take on "the funeral". Enjoy!

I do not in any way own Veronica Mars or any of its characters, I merely "borrow" from time-to-time.


It's Cassidy's funeral today and you down a fifth before the ceremony. You think you need it and you're probably right.

You don't know what will happen—will you stand there quietly as they lower him down, will you cry the tears you know are coming?—or will you sink down with him, into the cool brown earth and stay there until it's over?

What happens is what you imagined would happen—the day turns from sunshine to clouds and you stand there numb as the rain threatens to fall from the darkness.

Nobody comes, that's the truth of it. Why would anyone celebrate this waste of life? A few would have come to celebrate the death of a murderer, a rapist—a victim, you think in the quiet moments, but no one wants to hear that so you don't say it.

There's your mother who sobs throughout, the Catholic priest in his drapes reciting from his book but you don't care about any of that, it's not for you and it wasn't for Cassidy. It's just what happens at funerals, you tell yourself, because you know God doesn't really exist.

Logan holds onto your shoulder, squeezes sometimes. Just enough for you to know he's there.

You're wearing black and you think it's Armani but who can be sure? The tailor didn't say anything to you.

It's not open casket because Cassidy's body was a squashed mess when they recovered him and all the amount of cover-up in the world couldn't make the blue of his bruises disappear. You don't think you could have looked into his face anyhow, knowing he wasn't the brother you thought he was.

The coffin is brown, glossed over with lacquer so strong you think you can smell it, or maybe that's just the vodka on your breath.

Your father is gone as far as you know, preferring to keep his own preservation in check rather than farewell his youngest son but you think that's okay, because you wouldn't want to see him anyway. You don't know what you would say if you saw him.

You stand there and watch as the coffin is lowered down and your mother throws a handful of dirt into the abyss, tradition because who knows what to do at funerals really.

There's no point staying after this, you've seen all there is to see. Cassidy's in the ground, and many would say that's where he belongs. But you say he deserved a chance, the first time you would ever think that about your brother.

Out of the corner of your eye you catch sight of her, her brown hair down over her eyes, black coat pressed tight around her. You wonder why she bothered to come, but then you know—she's like you, she and you had the same thing and now he's gone.

You think it's the alcohol but you walk over to her, ignoring Logan's quiet words for you to stop. She looks at you with blank eyes, not expecting much of anything and you don't either because you never expected anything from her.

Standing before her, you tower over her and she looks so small to you. "Shouldn't be here, y'know."

"I couldn't not."

You swallow bile. You can't stand to look at her knowing who she is and who she was to Cassidy. You teased and taunted them, cruelly tortured them because you never had what you thought was their innocence. Now you know innocence was far from the truth, but Mac hadn't known.

Your arms hang limply by your side and your fingers are heavy with the blood that rushes there. You can't think of anything else to say and she doesn't expect you to say anything else. She just looks at you with those doe eyes and you can't stand it so you set your jaw and walk off, leaving her there alone.

Logan stands waiting for you back at the grave and you can see he gives Mac a reassuring smile before he shifts his eyes to you and they flash with uncertainty.

"Starting to sober up, need a boost," you say but it's a lie because you feel drunker than ever.

When you and Logan walk through the doors of the Neptune Grand you feel a chill and you stuff your hands in the pockets of your pants. You go up to his room and take a full bottle of Jack off the counter, swigging it from the lip and Logan quietly suggests you slow down.

"No point," you answer him with drink dripping from your mouth. "I don't ever want to remember."