I swore up and down, and roundabout (Laura will attest to this) that I was moving away from fandom so that I could concentrate on the original stuff until I started my degree course in October, well again I couldn’t have been further from wrong. Please witness the first part of my new project. It’s Veronica Mars (as the incident this past Tuesday has inspired me to write about the possibility of Logan and Veronica – they are the Michael and Maria of Neptune).
Rating: PG-13 for now
Spoilers: Up to Weapons of Class Destruction (ep 1.18)
Summary: Veronica seems to keep on just running away.
Feedback: Please 🙂
*What made me do it?* Logan sat in his car, banging his head against the steering wheel as he tried to figure out what strangeness had made him actually act out his desires. *Is insanity contagious?* Thinking about his best friend he felt a pang of guilt. He had just kissed Veronica, the love of Duncan’s life. Sure, Duncan had moved on, he had Meg now, but that didn’t mean his love for Veronica had just vanished into the ether.
After a few moments of staring up at the balcony where it had happened, Logan turned the key in the ignition and, after the engine had warmed a little, drove off in the direction of his room – perhaps a few sips of vodka would help clear his head.
Sitting in his bedroom, a half-empty bottle of Stoly dangling from one hand, Logan stared at the photo album he had shoved under his bed over a year before. Lilly’s face smiled at him from photos taken on a long ago summer evening spent frolicking on the beach. He turned over a few pages until he came to the picture he had been looking for, Veronica and Lilly, posing teasingly, half-smiles on their pouting peach-tinted lips. He groaned and dropped the book as more recent images of Veronica filled his head.
The kiss should be filed away under ‘Never-to-be-mentioned again’ but he couldn’t do that, not when all he wanted was more. “Fuck,” he almost yelled the word when the neck of the Stoly bottle broke in his hands, sending a sharp shard of glass into the palm of his hand.
The old Logan, the one who cared nothing for anyone – especially himself, would have driven to the hospital, even in the inebriated state that he was in to get care. The new Logan, the one who had so many thoughts going through his head, knew that he couldn’t drive in the state he was in. With a drunken smile on his face he pulled his cellphone from his pocket and quick-dialled Veronica’s number.
*What made me do it?* Veronica flung herself down face first on her bed, pummelling her pillow with curled fists. *Am I going insane?* She rolled over onto her back and fought back the urge she had to smile. The kiss had been wonderful, hot, sweet, his lips were so much softer than she thought they would be *I’m lost, I was actually thinking about how soft his lips didn’t look!*
Pulling a heavy pink nail varnish—speckled photo album from the hallowed spot underneath her bed, Veronica started to flick through the thick plastic photo-covered pages until she reached the page of photos of Lilly and Logan. They had all really been hamming it up for the camera that day. Logan had had just a tiny bit too much to drink, and Lilly hadn’t been too far behind him. Duncan had been standing off to the side just watching all of the events like a disinterested bystander. As much as Veronica didn’t like to admit it, Logan had been one of her best friends back then, someone she could rely on to make her laugh. Sure, she knew that he had his problems, but then didn’t everyone?
She brushed her fingers slowly, sadly, over Lilly’s face, guilt churning in the pit of her stomach as she recalled the feel of Logan’s lips against her own. Closing the book and carefully placing it back under her bed, she allowed herself the luxury of remembering the kiss again, her fingertips resting on her slightly swollen bottom lip. *Stop that, Veronica…you really can’t be doing this!*
The phone in her back pocket vibrating was enough to startle out of her mini reverie and she was immediately alert as she answered the call.
“Logan.” She wasn’t ready to speak to him yet, but she could hardly ignore the call, what if it was something important?
“Ronnie, can I ask you something?” his words were slow and slurred.
Twisting her fingers in the loose tie of her belt, she considered telling him that she wasn’t ready to talk right now, but it was obvious that he was drunk, and it didn’t take too many guesses for Veronica to realise why he had been hitting the drink. “Are you sure you want to talk right now?” her voice was breathy, full of unacknowledged anticipation.
“I cut my hand,” he finally spoke after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, the words sounded mournful, and almost childlike.
Immediately Veronica shifted from cautious mode to concerned, “You what? Logan, where are you?” All thoughts of the kiss went out of her head. What if he was seriously hurt? She couldn’t afford to lose someone else that she cared about. *So now you care about Logan Echolls? Since when?*
“I broke a bottle,” Logan was rambling now, nonsense that Veronica was having a few problems understanding, stuff about Lilly and Duncan, and his father, then, out of the blue he asked the one question that she had been hoping he would never ask, “why did you kiss me?”
Veronica was already heading out the front door, keys in hand, when he asked her this. She had no idea what frame of mind he was in or anything, and the last thing she wanted to do was push him even closer to the edge that he had been teetering over since Lilly’s death. “Because I wanted to,” even as she said the words she realised the truth of them. She had kissed him because she had wanted to see how it felt to be close to someone without them coming up with corny lines *Like Leo!* or admitting their fear of her father *Again like Leo!*.
Sitting outside the Echolls’ house, Veronica was half-tempted to drive home, she didn’t know if she could face him right now. The light was on in the pool house, and she knew that is where he would be, that is where he always was. The pool house was sort of Logan’s domain, filled with his junk, memorabilia from 10 years of being ‘Mr Popular’ at school; trophies, yearbooks, photos, all the things that Veronica had packed away long ago.
Avoiding the security light just to the left of the grand front entrance, she walked around to the half-glass half-brick extension and peered through the window. She could see Logan lying on the double day-bed, a piece of faded blue towel wrapped around his left hand, resting on his taut bare stomach, the other hand behind his head.
Steeling herself, Veronica knocked lightly on the glass door and pushed it open, “Logan…” She walked further into the dully-lit room, her hands buried deep in her jacket pockets.
Logan had heard the car pull up on the gravel driveway, and knew it was her. He had known that she would come if he called, purely because that was the sort of person she was. She never forgot to pay back a debt, and believed that everyone had a right to justice, no matter who they were. He watched her moving across the room from beneath lowered lashes, the pain in his hand distracting him from what he really wanted to do.
She stood at the end of the bed staring at him in silence for a few minutes, feeling uncomfortable and unsure of what to say. This wasn’t a normal situation. How many girls could say that they had kissed the boyfriend of their dead best friend, the best friend of their ex-boyfriend? How many girls could say that no matter how guilty they felt about it, they wanted to do it again?
She could see blood seeping slowly through the makeshift bandage on his hand, and instinctively sat down on the floor beside the bed, taking his hand in hers and unwrapping the towel to look at what he had done. Her face a little flushed, she lowered her eyes and stared intently at the superficial gash on the palm of his left hand. She didn’t want him to see that she had been staring at his slightly skinny, but still pretty well toned chest and abdomen. It had been over a year since she had seen him sitting on the beach enjoying the sun without a shirt, and it was obvious that in that time he had done something to try and make a difference to his naturally rather boyish form.
Swallowing back a groan as Veronica’s fingers explored the cut on his hand, Logan kept his eyes closed, the hand behind his head clenched tightly as he fought against the desire he had to pull her onto the daybed with him. Ever resourceful, she dipped a corner of the towel in vodka and dabbed the cut with it, ignoring his quiet gasp of pain as the alcohol sank into the still-bleeding gash. “Hey, watch it, Ronnie, I’m not unconscious or anything.”
All the time he wasn’t speaking, Veronica could ignore the fact that it was him she was looking after. The moment he opened his mouth all she could hear was the sound of her heart beat increasing, all she could see was the desire on his face as he had pulled her in for that second kiss. All she could feel was the heat as his lips had closed over hers and his teeth had nibbled gently at her bottom lip.
Dropping his hand as though touching him burned her, she stood up, staggering unsteadily for a moment before moving to lean against the wall for support. “I can’t do this, Logan. I don’t know what I was thinking coming here.”
Logan sat up, cradling his stinging hand to his chest, staring in amazement at Veronica’s back as she, for the second time in one day, walked away from him. This wasn’t the Veronica he knew and loved to taunt. This Veronica was someone unfamiliar to him. The girl he knew would never walk away from a challenge, she thrived on them, lived for them. “Ronnie, wait…” he called after her, getting to the front of the house just in time to see the Le Baron kick up a spray of gravel as she sped down the driveway.