(veronica mars) common ground; wallace, logan (implied l/v)
common ground
(veronica mars) 836 wds. pg-13; through 3x09 - wallace, logan (implied logan/veronica)
because the fact that the two of you are in a car together is already awkward in itself
a/n. this is my first vm whatever, written in (pretentious!) 2nd pov at that. this was self beta'd so all mistakes are, obviously, mine. The first 207 words were written months ago, during the winter hiatus. actually, i'd completely forgotten about it until i started cleaning out my hard drive. i really have no idea how i intended it to be, originally.
d. © rob thomas, upn, the cw.
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oh, and, obviously, veronica mars is NOT mine.
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“So.”
“So.”
“I'm glad that girl was okay.”
“Yeah.”
And then there was an awkward silence, because the fact that the two of you are in a car together is already awkward in itself. On the way to the girl you were supposed to save, the two of you were pretty pre-occupied, eager to be heroes and eager to put your favorite tiny blonde out of harm's way.
But then you got to the girl's place, and she just stared at you, like you were batshit crazy, she in her pyjamas, looking pretty awake and cozy and non-party-y.
Now you had no purpose, no reason to be stuck in a car together, silence hovering above you.
“You good with that Socio assignment?”
“Yeah, man.”
Silence. Silence. Fucking deafening silence.
“Is she okay?” you finally mumble. Besides, you've been wanting to know the whole day. A part of you still can't believe that you actually ended things with her.
It was all for the best. Right? Right.
“She's doing good," he says. "I mean for someone who's been dumped.”
He nearly spits out the last word, and you feel a little pained.
Then once again, there was that goddamn fuck silence AND YOU HATE IT.
“I had my reasons,” you mutter after some time. He stares at you, not really surprised at the delayed reply.
He shrugs, “She cares about you.”
“But she doesn't trust me.”
His expression sours for a second and you know he knows you're right. You drop the subject then, the rest of the drive back to Hearts spent in silence. Well, almost.
You're pulling up the parking lot when Wallace's phone rings. It's Mac, apparently, and you can tell from his expression that something NOT good has happened.
“Veronica's at the sheriff's,” he tells you after he hangs up on Mac, “It was Mercer. The Hearst rapist was Mercer.”
There's a tightening feeling in the pit of your stomach, in your heart, and your senses are threatening to overload. What was it with you and rapists for friends?!
“Dude, I need to go to --”
You don't let him finish, you know his best friend needs him, so you take him to her. It's the least you could do. He asks if you want to see her too, and you do, you really do, but for some reason you can't. There's a mishmash of feelings inside you, not least among guilt (for being friends with yet another rapist and for supplying said rapist with a FUCKING alibi - what the hell was wrong with him?!) and anger (at yourself and your stupidity, and at Mercer - he fucking tried to HURT Veronica, and you just can't let that go).
The rest of the night is spent locked inside your suite at the Grand, getting smashed and listening to the news - Mercer is all over.
The morning after is spent acquiring an aluminum baseball bat at the nearest Sports store and putting to use your established talent in smashing headlights.
//
Usually your one phone call would have been to Veronica, but this time around, you decide to call Wallace instead. You still can't face Veronica.
He arrives and bails you out, and since you left your car at the scene of the crime, he offers to take you home to the Grand. Or at least to where your SUV is (if it hasn't been towed yet). You accept because you have no other choice, but then the damn fuck awkward silence makes a comeback, and you have to make an effort not to squirm in your seat. You know he knows how Veronica feels about you taking things into your own hands (once more, as usual) - she's probably disappointed again (and again and again).
“She wanted to come along,” he suddenly said.
You look at him.
“Actually, she wanted to be the one to bail you out,” he continues, and you raise an eyebrow, “I told her you probably have your reasons for not calling her.”
Of course you have reasons. Neither of you are ready - you're not ready to face her (there's still that guilt, that damn awful guilt, and damn Mercer, you want to beat him up all over again), and she's not ready to accept you (because this is you, you're a lover, but fuck it, you're a fighter too, and you want to protect her, and she's not ready for that either).
“Yeah, well,” you answer, “Thanks for coming, man.”
“Of course,” he says, “I kind of understand why you did it, even though I'd never think of it myself. “
“It's a jackass trademark,” you smirk, and he smiles, and it's another moment where both of you know that the only thing you really have in common is Veronica, but somehow she's enough to make a real connection.
“She understands too,” he says before you get off the car.
“Well, here's to hoping she accepts it too, soon,” you answer, “Thanks for coming though, man.”
“Any time.”
. - fin.
# originally published: 2007.07.06