Title: "Merit"
Author: monimala
Fandom: VMars
Word Count: 450
Rating/Classification: SAC for language, Weevil, gen, angst, ficlet, slashy if you squint.
Disclaimer: I do not own the character, although I wish I did.
Summary: General season 2 spoilers, probably through 2.17. He, Felix, and Chardo made their own club.
Notes: Apologies for any horrendous Spanish grammar mistakes. I'm rusty!
When Eli was nine, he wanted to be a Boy Scout more than anything in the world. He wanted the uniform and the badges and to go on camping trips and learn to make fire and shit. "Estupido," Gustavio told him, one day, as they played freeze tag in Uncle Angel's lot, "you ain't never gonna be a Boy Scout. Just ask your grandma." Sure enough, he did, and Leticia shook her head...telling him that they couldn't afford things like uniforms and trips and, anyway, why would he want to join a bunch of gringos selling peanuts and volunteering at nursing homes when vieja Luisa could use his help in the barrio?
He, Felix, and Chardo made their own club. They called themselves Los Vaqueros and tied faded red bandannas around their necks. They helped old ladies carry their groceries and mowed lawns and every time Luisa's cat got stuck in a tree, Eli climbed up and rescued her. Flor scratched him for his troubles, but he didn't mind.
By the time Eli was 11, though, Los Vaqueros got restless. They started giving each other merit badges for swiping candy bars from the Sac-n-Pac, for seeing who could tag their initials higher on the water tower, for boosting hubcaps off 09-er cars and seeing who could hotwire a ride the fastest.
"Bueno," said Gustavio, softly, untying his bandanna one day behind the compactor in the junkyard, "you ain't much of a cowboy anyway, Eli." He initiated him into the PCH Bike Club, with leather and tats and hairpin curves. He baptized him "Weevil" with a pair of clippers and a stolen electric razor. Weevil didn't learn to make fire but he learned to make things burn.
But he still whispers, "Scout's honor," sometimes, walking too-fast past the tree where Flor yowls and yowls. The freaking cat is, like, ancient now. Fat and lazy and one-eyed. He doesn't even know how she manages to get to the top of the jacaranda tree without the light branches snapping under her weight.
Felix rescued that damn cat the week he died.
Felix did a lot of things that week. He got mustard on the new tie his mom made him wear for church. He bandaged Eli's knuckles after he punched a wall because fucking Echolls had him so pissed off. He kissed Molly Fitzpatrick one last time. He mowed one last lawn. He breathed and he smiled and he laughed, "Los Vaqueros ride again, huh?" as he swung his leg over his bike and they set off for the Coronado bridge.
Weevil is nearly nineteen now. And the thing he wants more than anything in the world is absolution.
--end--
April 7, 2006.