➻ᴄʟᴏsᴇʀ || ᴀ ᴊᴅʀᴏɴɪᴄᴀ ғɪᴄ

Something With A Happy Ending

Jason stared daggers at the chubby woman helping them being their bags inside. It wasn't much by any means, just the three carry-ons Veronica had been toting around and his large, heavy-duty backpack. Veronica hadn't noticed because she had been carrying on conversation with her friend, but he had gone almost pale. Martha Dunnstock was never stupid. A little naive when it came to romance, sure, but it would be a miracle if she hadn't already realized who he was.

Martha's home was very nice, a casual kind if interior. The house itself was probably 30-40 years old and hardly changed since then, except for wallpaper, utilities, and furniture. It almost looked like an old woman's home. But rather than an elderly woman, the structure homed Martha, her husband Patrick, and their 2 year old son, Calvin. It was difficult for him to think of Martha as a wife and mother, when most of her highschool career was spent isolated all except for her friendship with Veronica and another girl named Betty Finn. He had stayed mostly silent, not wanting to set off any triggers that might cause either of them to realize who he really was. "

"So, Bud, what brings you to Sherwood?" Martha asked innocently, as Veronica helped her set the bags down on her brown, faux leather couch. "Oh, just tourism. I've been looking for a place to finally settle down and I've always preferred smaller towns." Which was the truth. He had been looking for a place to finally settle, but he came back to Sherwood to settle some business before he was able to leave his past fully behind him. He was going to restart in the south where no one would know him or who he or his father were. "You lookin' to settle here?" She almost sounded as if she knew it was a lie, a diluted chuckle in her tone.

He set his sack down on the floor, leaned against the coffee table. "Yeah, why is there something wrong with Sherwood?" His eyes wide with worry, she rubbed her palms down the thighs of her pants. "Oh no, it's just no one really wants to settle here. Not to start a family at least, not after what happened in '89." He felt a pang of guilt in his throat. Veronica's eyes dulled overall she lightly bit in on her top lip in remembrance. "Hey uh- Mart, you got water?" She asked in an almost flurries tone. "Oh yeah, sorry I'll- yeah." As Martha realized what she had started she anxiously padded off to the kitchen.

Jason stared at Veronica, a softer stare than the anxiety induced terror he had glared at Martha with earlier. "Are you alright?" He asked, taking a step closer to her. She couldn't even look up at him, he looked too much like him. "I'll be fine." She sounded so flat. So distant. He could almost feel his eyes watering, so filled with guilt over the pain he had caused people. He had never meant for it to escalate the way it did.

Martha came back into the room with three plastic bottles of water, handing one to Bud and one to Veronica. "Sorry about earlier, I forgot." She gleamed at Veronica with regret. "Oh I'll be fine, don't worry about it. It's been what, 10 years? 11? I'll have to get over it some time." She tried to shove it off, but they could both tell it still bothered her. "I'll show you your room." She patted Veronica on the shoulder and lead her and Bud back down the hallway. Room? As in not plural? Fuck. He started to offer sleeping on the couch until they got to her spare bedroom and realized it had two full-size beds. With a sigh of relief, they both thanked Martha for the room and set down their bags again.

Veronica flopped her body down onto the bed with a groan of frustration. Jason pulled out his clothes for the next day and his current read, setting both out on the quilt bedspread and trying to plan out what he was going to do tomorrow. He couldn't stay here, not for long at least. Sooner or later either of them could find him out and call the police. Would they even be able to? The story had never been confirmed a string of homicides, meaning Veronica never ratted on him. Whether it was to save her own hide or out of respect for the dead, he'll never know, but he couldn't be arrested. Just heavily questioned on why and how he faked his own suicide. A very public suicide, at that.

"Whatcha readin'?" Drew him out of his thoughts as his attention jumped to Veronica, still laying on her stomach on the guest bed. "Oh, Catcher in the Rye. Salinger. It's pretty good." She smiled at him with that smile that first drew his attention to her eleven years ago as he watched her across the Westerburg cafeteria, helping Heather Chandler poll other kids on useless questions just to see how much they would ass kiss or show off when given the opportunity. "Really? I've been thinking about reading it. You like classics?" She hoisted herself up on her elbows. "Yes I do. I also prefer banned books. I believe there's a reason the government tends to restrict anti-establishment literature from the youth." He gleamed a proud smile back at her. God, he sounded like a tool. "Well aren't you Mister Special." She laughed as she pushed herself off the bed and dug through one of her suitcases for a set of pajamas. "I'm gonna go change, don't set the world on fire while I'm gone." She kidded as she walked out of the room, shutting the creaky door behind her.