Fic: Finite Erasure (Logan/Veronica) Hard R - NC-17 (2/?)
Title: Finite Erasure
Author: synful_trixx
Pairing/Character: Logan/Veronica, Keith, Wallace
Rating: Hard R to NC-17
Summary: When you're dead, you're dead. There's no coming back from it. But sometimes, you're not really dead at all.
Spoilers: All of Season One and All of Season two. Goes AU from the bus crash.
Warnings: This fic is extremely adult. Extremely adult. I cannot stress this enough. It carries harsh themes, adult language, and a major squick factor. This chapter does contain character death. If you would like to know the warnings for the rest of the fic (because they kind of give away the entire story) please follow this link Warnings
Word Count: 5611 (this part) of 52 000ish
Authors Notes: I actually have to thank a couple of people... which sounds odd, cause this is so not the Grammy's but... I must. Because without them? This fic would have died a slow horrible death. So here goes:
Thank you gertinator my lovely little woman, who inspires me to new heights of depravity and does not run screaming when I come up with very bad ideas.
fickledame who betad this part of the fic, and gave me clear concise concrit on the rest of it.
afrocurl who helped make a heartbreaking scene even worse and tore ME to pieces with her suggestions.
darkhavens who helped me with the medical file, to make it sound professional and legal. This was totally above and beyond, since she doesn't even play in this fandom.
tsapphire13, cinaya19, nemo_88, and misa_05, for holding my hands and patting me on the back. Without your encouragement... I probably wouldn't have made it past the first time the damn fic made me cry. Thank you... for holding my hand and crying with me.
Authors Notes II: Written for NaNoWriMo
Three Months Later
“Hello, you’ve reached Mars Investigations. We are unable to take your call at the moment, but if you leave a name and number where you can be reached, we’ll get back to you at our earliest convenience. If this is regarding a case we’re already working for you, please leave the case file number as well. Thank you and have a wonderful day,” Veronica’s voice chirped from the answering machine, echoing around the empty office.
Three years after her death and Keith Mars was still unable to change the recording. On the bad days, the days when he missed her so badly his chest ached, he would sit at her desk and replay the message, over and over, memorizing the nuances in her voice, the ones he’d almost forgotten.
This day was not a bad day.
“Hello,” a hesitant voice echoed in the dim room. “I’m trying to reach Keith Mars. My name is Special Agent Steven Greene. Please phone me back as soon as possible. You can reach me at the Local F.B.I. office the number is 555-0734 extension 2231.” He paused for a moment, unsure of how to continue. “This is in regards to your daughter, Veronica.” There was a soft click as Steven disconnected the call.
This was the part of his job that Steven had always hated. Speaking to the families. The Mars case was turning out to be a spectacular career builder and that was something Steven couldn’t come to terms with. Building a career on the ruination of someone else’s life. It was wrong and not why he’d joined the F.B.I. in the first place. He wanted to help, not destroy.
A landmark case, he’d been told when handed the case file. Twelve girls in total, all recovered in a tiny shack in the middle of Ensenada. She’d been legally dead for years when they’d found her. No discernable way to identify her.
Steven sighed. Veronica Mars, she was special. The tragic Neptune High bus crash claimed her life three years ago. The body never found, the crash had no survivors.
Until now.
They’d found her, along with some other girls, in Mexico. Opium addicted, nearly catatonic, living in a closet sized room with six other girls, the prides and joys of a dirty little brothel. He’d seen a lot in his years on the task force put together to put an end to white slavery on the black market. He’d seen people torn to shreds and put back together again. He’d seen girls so young they’d still carried teddy bears murdered by the john of the day. He’d helped rescue a few, but in all his years, he’d never seen anything like this.
Veronica Mars. A deceased high school girl turning up years after her death, sold into slavery. They’d had her in custody, in a hospital in Los Angeles for three months. The irony of the fact she’d been found on her twenty-first birthday, not lost on him. She’d been going through the rehabilitation program, the doctors slowly weaning her off the opium.
Staring at the phone, Steven sighed once more. This was definitely the part of his job he hated. Talking to the families, or talking the family’s answering machines, as the case was this time. How do you inform a father that his precious, deceased, teenaged daughter was actually alive. Catatonic, drug addicted, diseased, forced into prostitution, probably broken beyond repair, but alive.
The training at Quantico had never touched on these issues. They’d never had a case like this before. A ground breaking case he’d been told. His superiors hadn’t been kidding, even if they hadn’t known how ground breaking.
He sighed. Exhausted, but he’d promised her that morning. Not that she’d acknowledged his promise, but he had told her, given her his word and he was going to keep it.
It was time to visit Veronica Mars.
Switching his phone over, forwarding his phone calls to his cell phone, he set out for the hospital. She’d be sitting by the window. Translucent and pale, blue veins showing under her parchment paper skin, brittle bones poking out at large angles.
The hospital staff had been having difficulties getting her to eat. She’d lost more weight, the detox, the stress on her system, the unfamiliar surroundings all contributing to the steady decline of Veronica Mars. When he’d heard, heard of the problems the hospital was having, he’d stopped by one evening after his shift, wanting to talk to her, wanting to see how far down she’d gone.
She’d been pale and beautiful sitting in the evening glow, staring out the window. She hadn’t acknowledged his presence, hadn’t in the months he’d been visiting her. Veronica stared, occasionally scratching at the scabs in the crooks of her elbows, but she didn’t speak. She hadn’t since she’d been found.
Steven held out hope that this day, the next day, the day after, would be the day that would change everything. The day she’d turn and scream, yell, rage against what had been done to her. Something to show that she wasn’t totally broken on the inside.
He found her where he’d predicted. Sitting in the straight backed chair beside the window in her room, staring out at the streetlights, the stars, the nothing beyond the window. If it was possible, she was even more still, silent, than she usually was. The air of understanding, acknowledgment that floated around her on his visits was gone.
“Veronica Mars,” he spoke into the silent room, wanting her attention. She didn’t turn away from the window to look at him. She didn’t nod her head, or move her arm. She didn’t give so much as a twitch, but he knew. He could feel her attention shifting, focusing on him, her curiosity piqued. “Your name is Veronica Mars.” The room fairly vibrated with tension, and for the first time, since the moment he’d laid eyes on her, Veronica Mars physically acknowledged him.
She turned to stare at him with her empty eyes, her blank face. She turned to stare at him.
Veronica Mars had turned in her chair, by herself, without being asked too.
If he hadn’t been sure of who she was before, that movement would have convinced him. One simple movement, and the world tilted, shifted, slid on its axis. He’d found Veronica Mars, the only survivor of the tragic Neptune Bus Crash.
His phone started to vibrate in his pocket, startling him. Veronica turned back towards the window as Steven looked at the caller I.D. Keith Mars was returning his call.
“Greene.” The small snicker at the end of the line made him pause for a moment.
“Blue.” Keith laughed at the confused silence at the other end of the phone line. “I’m kidding, Agent Greene. It’s been an odd ball of a day and I’m a little hyper at the moment.” Keith explained. “You called about Veronica?” Keith’s tone took on a darker note, one that clearly translated through the phone lines. He knew they’d found Veronica, but Steven could tell, Keith was expecting to get his daughter back in a body bag.
Steven hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to continue. “Yes, Mr. Mars I called about Veronica.” Steven watched as the corner of Veronica’s eye twitched, her whole body tense and alert.
“Call me Keith. Mr. Mars is a little too formal for what we’re discussing.” Keith’s voice had softened, breathing deep and even, like he was trying to keep himself calm. “Where’d you find her?” He asked quietly, the deep fear of never knowing where his daughter went, overcoming him.
“Mr. Mars, I mean, Keith,” Steven was getting flustered. The more he watched Veronica reacting for the first time in months, the more he wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Keith, we found Veronica.” Taking a deep breath Steven listened as Keith chuckled.
“I gathered that. I’m asking where you found her.” Keith’s voice, tone, was still soft. Keith Mars, Sheriff of Neptune California. Or at least he had been, it wasn’t hard to see why he’d been re-elected half a dozen times. He was definitely a people person.
“Ensenada,” Steven breathed out, finally finding the courage. “Mr. Mars, Veronica Mars, your daughter was located in Ensenada, Mexico.” Steven listened to the silence on the other end of the phone. “She’s currently in a treatment facility, in Los Angeles.” Still more silence. “Keith? Mr. Mars? Are you still there?” Sometimes Steven hated his job, hated this part most of all.
“She’s… she’s alive?” Keith breathed out, barely able to stand on his own two feet.
“She’s alive, Keith.” Steven smiled into the phone, watching as the corner of Veronica’s mouth twitched. The more he watched her, the more fascinated he became. She could convey the deepest emotions, with barely a twitch of her skin, the flutter in an eyelid. Steven thought and quickly dismissed that thought. It wasn’t the conveyance of emotions, it was the fact he’d spent so much time with her, trying to identify her, trying to help her. This time he’d definitely gotten in too deep.
“… which hospital in Los Angeles? Is she okay? Where has she been? Hello! Greene?!” Keith’s voice cut through Steven’s reverie, leaving unsure of what he’d missed in the conversation.
“I’m sorry, Keith, my phone cut out, could you repeat that?” Steven improvised hastily, it wouldn’t do to let the distraught father find out he’d been spacing out while staring at his nearly catatonic daughter.
“Where is she?” Keith didn’t bother with the other questions. He really only needed one answered. The most important one.
“Los Angeles Cedars-Sinai. She’s…” Steven hesitated again, unsure of how much detail to give out over the phone. “She’s not well, Mr. Mars, she’s in a treatment facility.” Steven listened to the silence on the other end, waited a moment, before speaking again. “I’ll send a car for you in the morning and set up the flight. I’ll meet you at the airport. You’ll need to meet with her doctors before seeing her, to fully understand the situation.” Steven tried to keep his tone sympathetic, but without conscious thought it slipped from sympathetic into downright depressing.
“Situation. What happened? Where has she been? What the fuck is going on?” Keith’s cool finally broke, the tide of emotion carrying him away until he was shaking and screaming into the phone.
“I can’t discuss that on the phone, Sir, but I’ll have a case file for you when I pick you up at the airport. You can read it on the way to the hospital.” Steven made the concession, a grieving father, to find out something like this was going to be difficult enough without any preparation.
“I’ll be bringing someone with me,” Keith said before he hung up. Steven stood still in the middle of her room, Veronica’s room, staring at his phone. Keith Mars had hung up on him.
Directing his attention once more to Veronica, Steven memorized her pale features, taking in the small changes that the treatment program had wrought. She looked rested, pale, but well rested. She’d finally started sleeping through the night without nightmares. Finally started eating her own meals without being fed. Veronica had even taken a bath by herself the day before. It wasn’t much, but it was progress.
Keith would be there in the morning, and then, then these impromptu visitations would be put on hold. At least until they followed the rabbit down the hole and figured out who had sold Veronica Mars to a two-bit brothel in Mexico.
Mere hours away in Neptune California, Keith Mars sat staring at his phone. Shocked, confused, unable to comprehend the conversation he’d just had. Sitting behind his desk at the Mars Investigations office, Keith stared at his desk, at the pile of papers littering the surface, at the picture of Veronica that graced the corner.
Three and a half years, and they’d found Veronica, not her lifeless body. They wouldn’t be shipping her home in a body bag like he’d long ago accepted. They’d found Veronica alive. Veronica was alive and in Los Angeles. Veronica was alive. In Los Angeles.
He couldn’t wrap his mind around it, couldn’t make sense of the information. His baby girl was alive and only a few short hours away. Only a car ride away. Shaking his head he picked up the phone.
Waiting in stunned silence while the phone rang, waiting for her to answer, Keith sighed in relief when the answering machine picked up.
“Hi, you’ve reached the Fennel and Mars residence, we can’t come to the phone right now but if you leave a number, someone will call you back eventually.” Wallace’s voice cut through Keith’s relief, the ache spreading through his chest.
“Hey, honey, I’m going out of town tonight, so don’t expect me. I’m not sure how long I’ll be, but I’ll call as soon as I can,” Keith spoke quickly, quietly into the phone. He wasn’t sure what to tell Alicia, not yet. Not until he’d seen Veronica for himself.
Hanging up the phone he quickly dialed Logan’s number. How do you tell the grieving boy, who was finally starting to move on, that the person he was grieving for wasn’t dead after all?
“Logan, it’s Keith. Pack a bag of clothes, we’re going on a road trip.” Keith waited impatiently while Logan made shocked noises and asked where they were going. “Mid life crisis. I figure it’s time to get myself a foxy stacked blonde, and you’re gonna be my wing man.” Keith grinned at the indignant squawk on the phone. “Trust me, I’ll tell you on the way, okay?” His voice turned more somber, hesitant, really wanting Logan to trust him, but not wanting him to be terribly disappointed if it wasn’t Veronica after all.
“Fine, but if Alicia comes looking for blood, it’s going to be yours she gets. I’m throwing you in her path.” Logan’s voice came loud and clear through the line.
“I’ll be there in an hour to pick you up. Be ready and watching, this is kind of a rush job.” Keith deliberately kept his words obscure, not wanting Logan to pick up on the real reason behind the road trip. Hanging up without saying goodbye, Keith grabbed his overnight bag, the one he kept at the office in case he had to leave town in a hurry, like after a bail jumper.
His thoughts derailed, crashed and burned. “Veronica’s alive.”
Forty five minutes later found Keith outside Logan’s condo complex, head resting on the steering wheel. The cool leather soothed his over heated skin. He wanted to believe, he wanted to believe that his daughter was alive, but he couldn’t allow himself, not yet.
He wasn’t sure what to tell Logan, how to tell Logan. How do you slip something like this into the conversation? ‘Hey, So how about those Padres? Veronica’s alive. I think they’re going to take the pennant this year.’ There was no easy way to say it. No easy way to tell him. Keith thought about it, struggled with the decision. Maybe he shouldn’t tell him, not until he knew for sure. There was no reason to get his hopes up, no reason to break his heart all over again, not until Keith knew for sure.
Logan slipped into the blazer, throwing his bag in the back. Smiling tentatively at Keith, he spoke into the silence of the car. “They’ve found her, haven’t they?” Trust Logan to skip to the heart of the matter. Over the past three years they’d gotten to know each other pretty well. Logan working at the office had solidified that knowledge. Bonded by grief and loss, they’d become close, sometimes too close. Able to read each other’s moods without giving it much thought beforehand.
“They think they have.” Keith’s voice was sad, despondent. He couldn’t allow himself to believe. “They think they have, she’s at a hospital in Los Angeles.” The silence in the car was deafening. So much for not telling Logan.
“Keith?” Logan questioned quietly, the desperation in his voice thick and sad in the vehicle.
“The F.B.I. phoned me. They think they’ve found Veronica,” Keith repeated, believing more, every time he spoke the words. “Veronica’s alive,” he repeated again, the tears streaming down his face. “Veronica’s alive.” Keith turned towards Logan, unable to see him through the haze of tears, mouth twisted in a grimace. “Veronica’s alive.”
Logan placed his hands gently on Keith’s shoulders, sliding closer to pull the older man into a hug. He wasn’t sure what to do. Wasn’t sure how to… how to comfort Keith Mars, super-dad extraordinaire. Keith kept whispering, over and over, ‘Veronica’s alive,’ into the front of Logan’s t-shirt.
Veronica Mars was alive. In Los Angeles. Veronica Mars… was alive in Los Angeles.
Logan let the emotion sweep over him, allowed himself to cry. Veronica Mars was alive in Los Angeles.
Pulling away, he swiped at his face with the backs of his hands. “Let’s go. Drive. Better yet, let me drive.” Logan tried to joke, but it fell flat in the thickness of the air in the blazer.
Keith tried to pull himself together, tried to remember that he wasn’t supposed to hope. He started the vehicle, putting it in gear and pulling out of the parking lot. Heading towards his daughter, heading towards hope.
He’d given up. A year of looking for her and he’d given up. The day Veronica had been declared legally dead, Keith had gone out, gotten drunk, and given up any hope of finding her alive. The guilt was eating him alive. He should have kept looking for her, he should have looked harder. He should have known a simple thing like a bus crash wouldn’t have ended his daughter’s life.
The images flashed behind his eyes, as he tried to picture how Veronica had ended up in Mexico. How she’d ended up dead, when really, she was only hours away. He imagined her running away, tired and miserable over the trial of the century, being hounded by reporters. She’d had enough of his heavy-handed scare tactics, her boyfriend tried to pressure her into something more. Keith glanced at Logan, staring blankly out the window. That one definitely wasn’t right.
She’d been swept out to sea, just like the search and rescue team had hypothesized. She’d been swept out to sea and had been picked up by a fishing boat. Veronica had bumped her head when she was pulled out of the bus, amnesia. There was no way she wouldn’t have come home, no way unless…
Someone else had found her, brought her to Mexico. They’d fished her out of the cold frigid water, pulling her waterlogged body out, and taking her to Mexico. They hadn’t let her come home, they hadn’t let her phone, they’d kept her a secret for nearly four years. Four years in Mexico as someone’s prisoner.
The images played over and over in his head, nearly driving him crazy. If she’d been able to, she would have come home. She would have called. Veronica would not run away from her problems. She was always a fighter. She didn’t back down. She would have come home.
“Stop that.” Logan’s voice cut through Keith’s vivid imaginings. Keith glanced over, taking in Logan’s blank mask.
“Stop what?” Keith tried to play innocent, tried to act like he hadn’t just been thinking of his daughter being held captive, being a prisoner against her will.
“Stop imagining whatever you’re imagining. We didn’t know.” Logan’s voice was carefully neutral, but Keith had learned to read the young man. He knew what Logan was thinking. He knew that Logan’s thoughts were mirroring his own.
They were both responsible for letting her go to easily. Keith turned back towards the road. At least Logan had mourned her long after Keith himself, had let her go. That was at least some consolation for Logan.
“I let her go, Logan.” Keith’s voice broke on Logan’s name. Angry desperation thick and harsh clogging his throat. “I didn’t look for her.” Keith wiped at his face angrily, the tears just wouldn’t stop, not tonight. They drowned him, choking him, salty and bitter on his tongue.
“Neither did I.” Logan’s voice finally lost the numbness it had during the conversation. Anger settling in its wake. “We had no reason to look for her, Keith. No reason. She’s been somewhere else, only hours away from Neptune, she’s been somewhere else and we didn’t look for her.” The tears came, went, came again, trickling down his cheeks unheeded. They weren’t important, not to Logan. The tears were cleansing, a testament to the guilt that was tearing through his insides.
Logan had mourned her, had felt that if they’d only had an ending, if they’d only been able to end things naturally, he’d be able to move on, he’d be able to forget her. He’d finally gone on a date, finally tried to move on with his life. He’d forgotten, for a moment, everything that she’d meant to him. He’d wanted to have a life again.
Veronica Mars was alive, and Logan Echolls had forgotten her. Only for an instant, only for one night, but he’d forgotten to miss her.
“Stop it,” Keith said, echoing Logan’s earlier statement. A small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, before it quickly slipped away. “Let’s wait, find out exactly what happened. There’s no sense in beating ourselves up until we know…” Keith trailed off at the confusion on Logan’s face. He’d been trying to placate Logan, but they both knew what would be in their heads tonight. They both knew what they were thinking.
They’d given up.
“We’ll wait. But that won’t stop the thoughts from tearing at us, from breaking us down until we’re no good to see her. We’ll be imagining the worst.” Logan stared steadily at the side of Keith’s face. “And between the two of us? We have pretty active imaginations.” There was no humor in his voice, no laughter sparkling in his eyes.
Keith and Logan had both lived lifetimes before their time. They’d seen too much, done too much, had to many things done to them. They knew what the real world held, the types of people that swam the dark ocean and preyed on people smaller than themselves. They knew, understood, couldn’t fathom, what they’d be facing at the hospital.
“It can’t be worse than what we’re imagining,” Keith mused out loud, unsure of the truth to his statement, and if he actually believed it.
“No. It could be much worse,” Logan murmured, before turning back towards the window, staring out into the inky blackness beyond the window.
The night sky was lit with stars, twinkling brightly, wavering in and out of Logan’s field of vision. They were like Veronica had been. Constant, there, even when he hadn’t wanted her to be. Nothing should be that beautiful, not when there were so many things that could have befallen Veronica in her years away from Neptune. The stars didn’t deserve to shine that brightly, that beautifully, not when they were suffering down here.
Logan believed, in his infinite cynicism, that it was a cruel cosmic joke. Make something so beautiful, then tear it all away.
He wanted to breathe, to breathe and be still, to sit motionless on the way to Los Angeles. He wanted to remember everything he’d loved about her, replaying the memories in his mind, until they drove him mad with the absurdity of it all. He wanted to remember Veronica the way she was, before he saw her the way she was now.
Absolute certainty flooded his system. The things that had happened to Veronica in her time away from him, they were worse, worse than anything either Keith or himself could imagine. They’d have had to be. Veronica Mars was not a quitter, she wouldn’t have run away, she wouldn’t have walked away without a backward glance. The girl was fearless, indestructible. Logan should know, he’d tried to destroy her often enough.
Veronica was loyal to the end, she always had been. She’d stood by Lilly, even after Lilly’s own death. She’d stood behind Lilly, even after finding out the truth. Lilly Kane had slept with her boyfriend’s father. Lilly Kane had slept with the leader of a biker gang. Lilly Kane was not who everyone thought she was. She was cold, bitter, cynical, and convinced that the world was her playground. Lilly Kane was nothing like Veronica’s best friend, not the real Lilly Kane. Still, Veronica stood her ground, because Veronica loved Lilly, and Lilly, Lilly loved herself.
Shaking himself from the dark thoughts that had taken over his mind, Logan looked toward the horizon, seeing the faint pinking of the sky, the first sign that sunrise was fast approaching. They’d been driving for a couple of hours, or at least, Keith had been driving and Logan had been brooding silently.
Glancing over at Keith, Logan saw that he wasn’t the only one that had been brooding. The dark scowl marring Keith’s face was just a tiny bit frightening. Logan took a moment to observe Keith, without being noticed. It wasn’t very often he got to see the unprotected side of Keith Mars. The man had been locked up tighter than a drum since the day he’d received a phone call from the Village Idiot. Lamb had been smug, unconcerned with the fact he was relaying this type of information to Keith Mars. Keith, in the following weeks, needed something to take his mind off Veronica. Something to occupy him.
He’d been thoroughly occupied by Donald Lamb. Logan grinned at the memory of Keith’s announcement. Running for Sheriff, he’d said, sadness staining his face, someone has to figure out what happened.
Logan had crawled out of the bottle long enough to lend his support. Lamb had won by a very small margin, the smear campaign he’d organized doing a nice little number on Keith’s popularity.
The following year, an emergency recall election had taken place, when Sheriff Lamb was caught in bed with a sixteen year old girl. Not just any girl, but the Manning’s youngest daughter, Grace. That had been a scandal and a half. Keith, supposedly, as he’d told Logan, had refused the job at first, but the city had begged. He’d only been in office for a few months when he handed in his resignation.
Too much corruption, too much pressure, too much politics. Alicia had been relieved, Wallace had been baffled, and Logan, well he’d been unsurprised. The heart had gone out of Keith when Veronica had died. When they’d thought she’d died. The fact that he’d been unable to protect her, unable to save her this time, it had taken all the fight out of him.
Aaron Echolls had nearly burned Veronica alive, trapped in a freezer, screaming at the top of her lungs. Logan’s own father, who had also murdered his first girlfriend, had shown no remorse for his actions, laughing in maniacal glee when the announcement of Veronica’s death had hit the airwaves. He’d thought he was getting off. Logan smirked, remembering how his father had requested to see him, sure of his victory now that the person who had solved the case was gone.
Logan had gone, one last time, to see his father, locked behind bars. He’d made Aaron a promise that day, a promise he kept. He’d watch Aaron die with a smile on his face. Two years after Veronica was gone, Aaron Echolls had died by lethal injection. The murder of the fabulous Lilly Kane, probably wouldn’t have been enough to get him the death penalty. The money trail the F.B.I. had tracked back to Aaron, the money trail that lead from the common thugs that had planted the bomb on the bus straight to Aaron, was enough to guarantee his demise.
The headlines had been riveting. Action movie star, Aaron Echolls, plotted, planned, hired common thugs, murdered fifteen innocent students of Neptune High, specifically to kill off the only witness in his murder trial. The press had hounded Logan, Keith riding to his rescue, as the story had heated up. His father had killed Logan’s first girlfriend, had attempted to kill Veronica, and had actually managed to do it the second time.
Pieces fell into place, tying together, a string of pearls that connected, and all strands led back to Veronica. The money trail had lead straight to Aaron, the money trail that had been traced to the bombing of the bus. Veronica was alive and the money trail led straight back to Aaron Echolls.
“Keith?” Logan spoke hesitantly, unsure of the theory that was brewing in his head. “They money trail… it leads back to Aaron.” He voiced the thought, knowing it was right as soon as the words left his mouth. Aaron Echolls had known Veronica was alive. His own father had… Logan stopped abruptly, knowing to continue, was a guarantee that he’d lose control.
“I thought about that.” Keith’s soft voice cut through Logan’s thoughts. Logan turned back to Keith, staring at his face for a moment before once again, hesitantly continuing.
“He said he’d make her pay.” The words were harsh, like nails on a chalk board, cutting right through to the heart of the matter. “He said we’d all pay for trying to pin Lilly’s murder on him.” Logan heaved a sigh, anger, desperation, bitterness clawing through him until he was torn to pieces on the inside.
“Let’s not think about it, at least until we talk to Agent Greene,” Keith stated, the anger in his own voice clear enough for Logan to hear.
“Agent Greene?” Logan questioned, voice still painted black with anger.
“The Agent that phoned me to tell me about Veronica. We’ll be meeting him at the hospital.” Keith thought for a moment before amending himself, “Or at least we were supposed to be meeting him at the hospital. He was sending a car in the morning, but by the time the car gets to the house, we’ll already be there.”
“Better phone him, let him know we jumped the gun.” A brief smile crossed Logan’s face, but it was gone all too quickly.
“We should be there in about an hour, I’ll phone when we get closer.” Keith turned back to the road, white knuckled fists gripping the steering wheel. Wishing that he could resurrect Aaron Echolls and slide the needle into Aaron’s arm himself this time. Keith backtracked that thought, it wasn’t enough, the humane lethal injection wasn’t enough. He wanted to bring Aaron back so he could maim his movie star face, wanted Aaron to bear the scars of Keith’s revenge for the rest of his life. He didn’t want Aaron to die, he wanted him to suffer.
More puzzle pieces fell into place, without facts, without evidence, Keith felt the hunch grow, expanding within him, taking over all sense of reason. He knew, without a doubt, that Aaron Echolls had something to do with Veronica disappearing. Keith knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, if this was true, if he found out that Aaron had tortured his baby girl, that had Aaron been alive, Keith would have killed him. Keith was positive, sure, absolutely certain, that the Veronica that was in a hospital room in Los Angeles, wouldn’t be the daughter that had left home to go on a field trip years before.
She couldn’t be. She wouldn’t be. But he had to hope, he had to hope that something of his bad-ass action figure daughter remained. Whatever she’d been through, whatever had been done to her, without her spunk, she may not survive. Keith knew he couldn’t survive losing her again.
Glancing at Logan once more, taking in his intent gaze out the window, Keith corrected himself, quietly, in his own head. Logan would follow her this time. It had been a close thing before, Logan being the drama queen he was wont to be. He’d stood on the edge of the Coronado bridge, drunk, stumbling, standing on the precipice looking down, barely caring that a small gust of wind, a slip of the foot, would send him plummeting to his death. Keith had a two o’clock phone call from Leo D’Amato, telling him where Logan was, what he was doing, and his state of public drunkenness.
Nearly falling out of bed in his haste to go and rescue a drunken Logan, Keith had tripped, breaking two toes on the bedside table. Driving had been a chore, the broken toes throbbing every time he put his foot on the accelerator. Logan hadn’t appreciated the gesture. Sobbing into the night, still standing on the ledge, whisky flask clutched firmly in his hand, Logan had wanted to die. It was plain to Keith, the look on his face making Keith stand up hesitantly, limping towards him, wanting to pull him back from the edge. He hadn’t been able to save Veronica, but maybe he would be able to save Logan.
They’d ended up sobbing together on the ground on the side of the Coronado Bridge. Tears and recriminations being let out into the cool night air. They’d lost something, gained something, tore each other to pieces. But Logan had survived, he’d gone on to live another day. Keith saw it, every time he looked Logan in the eye, that desperate need to end it all.
If it wasn’t Veronica, if it was, this could very well be the last straw.
Author: synful_trixx
Pairing/Character: Logan/Veronica, Keith, Wallace
Rating: Hard R to NC-17
Summary: When you're dead, you're dead. There's no coming back from it. But sometimes, you're not really dead at all.
Spoilers: All of Season One and All of Season two. Goes AU from the bus crash.
Warnings: This fic is extremely adult. Extremely adult. I cannot stress this enough. It carries harsh themes, adult language, and a major squick factor. This chapter does contain character death. If you would like to know the warnings for the rest of the fic (because they kind of give away the entire story) please follow this link Warnings
Word Count: 5611 (this part) of 52 000ish
Authors Notes: I actually have to thank a couple of people... which sounds odd, cause this is so not the Grammy's but... I must. Because without them? This fic would have died a slow horrible death. So here goes:
Thank you gertinator my lovely little woman, who inspires me to new heights of depravity and does not run screaming when I come up with very bad ideas.
fickledame who betad this part of the fic, and gave me clear concise concrit on the rest of it.
afrocurl who helped make a heartbreaking scene even worse and tore ME to pieces with her suggestions.
darkhavens who helped me with the medical file, to make it sound professional and legal. This was totally above and beyond, since she doesn't even play in this fandom.
tsapphire13, cinaya19, nemo_88, and misa_05, for holding my hands and patting me on the back. Without your encouragement... I probably wouldn't have made it past the first time the damn fic made me cry. Thank you... for holding my hand and crying with me.
Authors Notes II: Written for NaNoWriMo
Three Months Later
“Hello, you’ve reached Mars Investigations. We are unable to take your call at the moment, but if you leave a name and number where you can be reached, we’ll get back to you at our earliest convenience. If this is regarding a case we’re already working for you, please leave the case file number as well. Thank you and have a wonderful day,” Veronica’s voice chirped from the answering machine, echoing around the empty office.
Three years after her death and Keith Mars was still unable to change the recording. On the bad days, the days when he missed her so badly his chest ached, he would sit at her desk and replay the message, over and over, memorizing the nuances in her voice, the ones he’d almost forgotten.
This day was not a bad day.
“Hello,” a hesitant voice echoed in the dim room. “I’m trying to reach Keith Mars. My name is Special Agent Steven Greene. Please phone me back as soon as possible. You can reach me at the Local F.B.I. office the number is 555-0734 extension 2231.” He paused for a moment, unsure of how to continue. “This is in regards to your daughter, Veronica.” There was a soft click as Steven disconnected the call.
This was the part of his job that Steven had always hated. Speaking to the families. The Mars case was turning out to be a spectacular career builder and that was something Steven couldn’t come to terms with. Building a career on the ruination of someone else’s life. It was wrong and not why he’d joined the F.B.I. in the first place. He wanted to help, not destroy.
A landmark case, he’d been told when handed the case file. Twelve girls in total, all recovered in a tiny shack in the middle of Ensenada. She’d been legally dead for years when they’d found her. No discernable way to identify her.
Steven sighed. Veronica Mars, she was special. The tragic Neptune High bus crash claimed her life three years ago. The body never found, the crash had no survivors.
Until now.
They’d found her, along with some other girls, in Mexico. Opium addicted, nearly catatonic, living in a closet sized room with six other girls, the prides and joys of a dirty little brothel. He’d seen a lot in his years on the task force put together to put an end to white slavery on the black market. He’d seen people torn to shreds and put back together again. He’d seen girls so young they’d still carried teddy bears murdered by the john of the day. He’d helped rescue a few, but in all his years, he’d never seen anything like this.
Veronica Mars. A deceased high school girl turning up years after her death, sold into slavery. They’d had her in custody, in a hospital in Los Angeles for three months. The irony of the fact she’d been found on her twenty-first birthday, not lost on him. She’d been going through the rehabilitation program, the doctors slowly weaning her off the opium.
Staring at the phone, Steven sighed once more. This was definitely the part of his job he hated. Talking to the families, or talking the family’s answering machines, as the case was this time. How do you inform a father that his precious, deceased, teenaged daughter was actually alive. Catatonic, drug addicted, diseased, forced into prostitution, probably broken beyond repair, but alive.
The training at Quantico had never touched on these issues. They’d never had a case like this before. A ground breaking case he’d been told. His superiors hadn’t been kidding, even if they hadn’t known how ground breaking.
He sighed. Exhausted, but he’d promised her that morning. Not that she’d acknowledged his promise, but he had told her, given her his word and he was going to keep it.
It was time to visit Veronica Mars.
Switching his phone over, forwarding his phone calls to his cell phone, he set out for the hospital. She’d be sitting by the window. Translucent and pale, blue veins showing under her parchment paper skin, brittle bones poking out at large angles.
The hospital staff had been having difficulties getting her to eat. She’d lost more weight, the detox, the stress on her system, the unfamiliar surroundings all contributing to the steady decline of Veronica Mars. When he’d heard, heard of the problems the hospital was having, he’d stopped by one evening after his shift, wanting to talk to her, wanting to see how far down she’d gone.
She’d been pale and beautiful sitting in the evening glow, staring out the window. She hadn’t acknowledged his presence, hadn’t in the months he’d been visiting her. Veronica stared, occasionally scratching at the scabs in the crooks of her elbows, but she didn’t speak. She hadn’t since she’d been found.
Steven held out hope that this day, the next day, the day after, would be the day that would change everything. The day she’d turn and scream, yell, rage against what had been done to her. Something to show that she wasn’t totally broken on the inside.
He found her where he’d predicted. Sitting in the straight backed chair beside the window in her room, staring out at the streetlights, the stars, the nothing beyond the window. If it was possible, she was even more still, silent, than she usually was. The air of understanding, acknowledgment that floated around her on his visits was gone.
“Veronica Mars,” he spoke into the silent room, wanting her attention. She didn’t turn away from the window to look at him. She didn’t nod her head, or move her arm. She didn’t give so much as a twitch, but he knew. He could feel her attention shifting, focusing on him, her curiosity piqued. “Your name is Veronica Mars.” The room fairly vibrated with tension, and for the first time, since the moment he’d laid eyes on her, Veronica Mars physically acknowledged him.
She turned to stare at him with her empty eyes, her blank face. She turned to stare at him.
Veronica Mars had turned in her chair, by herself, without being asked too.
If he hadn’t been sure of who she was before, that movement would have convinced him. One simple movement, and the world tilted, shifted, slid on its axis. He’d found Veronica Mars, the only survivor of the tragic Neptune Bus Crash.
His phone started to vibrate in his pocket, startling him. Veronica turned back towards the window as Steven looked at the caller I.D. Keith Mars was returning his call.
“Greene.” The small snicker at the end of the line made him pause for a moment.
“Blue.” Keith laughed at the confused silence at the other end of the phone line. “I’m kidding, Agent Greene. It’s been an odd ball of a day and I’m a little hyper at the moment.” Keith explained. “You called about Veronica?” Keith’s tone took on a darker note, one that clearly translated through the phone lines. He knew they’d found Veronica, but Steven could tell, Keith was expecting to get his daughter back in a body bag.
Steven hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to continue. “Yes, Mr. Mars I called about Veronica.” Steven watched as the corner of Veronica’s eye twitched, her whole body tense and alert.
“Call me Keith. Mr. Mars is a little too formal for what we’re discussing.” Keith’s voice had softened, breathing deep and even, like he was trying to keep himself calm. “Where’d you find her?” He asked quietly, the deep fear of never knowing where his daughter went, overcoming him.
“Mr. Mars, I mean, Keith,” Steven was getting flustered. The more he watched Veronica reacting for the first time in months, the more he wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Keith, we found Veronica.” Taking a deep breath Steven listened as Keith chuckled.
“I gathered that. I’m asking where you found her.” Keith’s voice, tone, was still soft. Keith Mars, Sheriff of Neptune California. Or at least he had been, it wasn’t hard to see why he’d been re-elected half a dozen times. He was definitely a people person.
“Ensenada,” Steven breathed out, finally finding the courage. “Mr. Mars, Veronica Mars, your daughter was located in Ensenada, Mexico.” Steven listened to the silence on the other end of the phone. “She’s currently in a treatment facility, in Los Angeles.” Still more silence. “Keith? Mr. Mars? Are you still there?” Sometimes Steven hated his job, hated this part most of all.
“She’s… she’s alive?” Keith breathed out, barely able to stand on his own two feet.
“She’s alive, Keith.” Steven smiled into the phone, watching as the corner of Veronica’s mouth twitched. The more he watched her, the more fascinated he became. She could convey the deepest emotions, with barely a twitch of her skin, the flutter in an eyelid. Steven thought and quickly dismissed that thought. It wasn’t the conveyance of emotions, it was the fact he’d spent so much time with her, trying to identify her, trying to help her. This time he’d definitely gotten in too deep.
“… which hospital in Los Angeles? Is she okay? Where has she been? Hello! Greene?!” Keith’s voice cut through Steven’s reverie, leaving unsure of what he’d missed in the conversation.
“I’m sorry, Keith, my phone cut out, could you repeat that?” Steven improvised hastily, it wouldn’t do to let the distraught father find out he’d been spacing out while staring at his nearly catatonic daughter.
“Where is she?” Keith didn’t bother with the other questions. He really only needed one answered. The most important one.
“Los Angeles Cedars-Sinai. She’s…” Steven hesitated again, unsure of how much detail to give out over the phone. “She’s not well, Mr. Mars, she’s in a treatment facility.” Steven listened to the silence on the other end, waited a moment, before speaking again. “I’ll send a car for you in the morning and set up the flight. I’ll meet you at the airport. You’ll need to meet with her doctors before seeing her, to fully understand the situation.” Steven tried to keep his tone sympathetic, but without conscious thought it slipped from sympathetic into downright depressing.
“Situation. What happened? Where has she been? What the fuck is going on?” Keith’s cool finally broke, the tide of emotion carrying him away until he was shaking and screaming into the phone.
“I can’t discuss that on the phone, Sir, but I’ll have a case file for you when I pick you up at the airport. You can read it on the way to the hospital.” Steven made the concession, a grieving father, to find out something like this was going to be difficult enough without any preparation.
“I’ll be bringing someone with me,” Keith said before he hung up. Steven stood still in the middle of her room, Veronica’s room, staring at his phone. Keith Mars had hung up on him.
Directing his attention once more to Veronica, Steven memorized her pale features, taking in the small changes that the treatment program had wrought. She looked rested, pale, but well rested. She’d finally started sleeping through the night without nightmares. Finally started eating her own meals without being fed. Veronica had even taken a bath by herself the day before. It wasn’t much, but it was progress.
Keith would be there in the morning, and then, then these impromptu visitations would be put on hold. At least until they followed the rabbit down the hole and figured out who had sold Veronica Mars to a two-bit brothel in Mexico.
Mere hours away in Neptune California, Keith Mars sat staring at his phone. Shocked, confused, unable to comprehend the conversation he’d just had. Sitting behind his desk at the Mars Investigations office, Keith stared at his desk, at the pile of papers littering the surface, at the picture of Veronica that graced the corner.
Three and a half years, and they’d found Veronica, not her lifeless body. They wouldn’t be shipping her home in a body bag like he’d long ago accepted. They’d found Veronica alive. Veronica was alive and in Los Angeles. Veronica was alive. In Los Angeles.
He couldn’t wrap his mind around it, couldn’t make sense of the information. His baby girl was alive and only a few short hours away. Only a car ride away. Shaking his head he picked up the phone.
Waiting in stunned silence while the phone rang, waiting for her to answer, Keith sighed in relief when the answering machine picked up.
“Hi, you’ve reached the Fennel and Mars residence, we can’t come to the phone right now but if you leave a number, someone will call you back eventually.” Wallace’s voice cut through Keith’s relief, the ache spreading through his chest.
“Hey, honey, I’m going out of town tonight, so don’t expect me. I’m not sure how long I’ll be, but I’ll call as soon as I can,” Keith spoke quickly, quietly into the phone. He wasn’t sure what to tell Alicia, not yet. Not until he’d seen Veronica for himself.
Hanging up the phone he quickly dialed Logan’s number. How do you tell the grieving boy, who was finally starting to move on, that the person he was grieving for wasn’t dead after all?
“Logan, it’s Keith. Pack a bag of clothes, we’re going on a road trip.” Keith waited impatiently while Logan made shocked noises and asked where they were going. “Mid life crisis. I figure it’s time to get myself a foxy stacked blonde, and you’re gonna be my wing man.” Keith grinned at the indignant squawk on the phone. “Trust me, I’ll tell you on the way, okay?” His voice turned more somber, hesitant, really wanting Logan to trust him, but not wanting him to be terribly disappointed if it wasn’t Veronica after all.
“Fine, but if Alicia comes looking for blood, it’s going to be yours she gets. I’m throwing you in her path.” Logan’s voice came loud and clear through the line.
“I’ll be there in an hour to pick you up. Be ready and watching, this is kind of a rush job.” Keith deliberately kept his words obscure, not wanting Logan to pick up on the real reason behind the road trip. Hanging up without saying goodbye, Keith grabbed his overnight bag, the one he kept at the office in case he had to leave town in a hurry, like after a bail jumper.
His thoughts derailed, crashed and burned. “Veronica’s alive.”
Forty five minutes later found Keith outside Logan’s condo complex, head resting on the steering wheel. The cool leather soothed his over heated skin. He wanted to believe, he wanted to believe that his daughter was alive, but he couldn’t allow himself, not yet.
He wasn’t sure what to tell Logan, how to tell Logan. How do you slip something like this into the conversation? ‘Hey, So how about those Padres? Veronica’s alive. I think they’re going to take the pennant this year.’ There was no easy way to say it. No easy way to tell him. Keith thought about it, struggled with the decision. Maybe he shouldn’t tell him, not until he knew for sure. There was no reason to get his hopes up, no reason to break his heart all over again, not until Keith knew for sure.
Logan slipped into the blazer, throwing his bag in the back. Smiling tentatively at Keith, he spoke into the silence of the car. “They’ve found her, haven’t they?” Trust Logan to skip to the heart of the matter. Over the past three years they’d gotten to know each other pretty well. Logan working at the office had solidified that knowledge. Bonded by grief and loss, they’d become close, sometimes too close. Able to read each other’s moods without giving it much thought beforehand.
“They think they have.” Keith’s voice was sad, despondent. He couldn’t allow himself to believe. “They think they have, she’s at a hospital in Los Angeles.” The silence in the car was deafening. So much for not telling Logan.
“Keith?” Logan questioned quietly, the desperation in his voice thick and sad in the vehicle.
“The F.B.I. phoned me. They think they’ve found Veronica,” Keith repeated, believing more, every time he spoke the words. “Veronica’s alive,” he repeated again, the tears streaming down his face. “Veronica’s alive.” Keith turned towards Logan, unable to see him through the haze of tears, mouth twisted in a grimace. “Veronica’s alive.”
Logan placed his hands gently on Keith’s shoulders, sliding closer to pull the older man into a hug. He wasn’t sure what to do. Wasn’t sure how to… how to comfort Keith Mars, super-dad extraordinaire. Keith kept whispering, over and over, ‘Veronica’s alive,’ into the front of Logan’s t-shirt.
Veronica Mars was alive. In Los Angeles. Veronica Mars… was alive in Los Angeles.
Logan let the emotion sweep over him, allowed himself to cry. Veronica Mars was alive in Los Angeles.
Pulling away, he swiped at his face with the backs of his hands. “Let’s go. Drive. Better yet, let me drive.” Logan tried to joke, but it fell flat in the thickness of the air in the blazer.
Keith tried to pull himself together, tried to remember that he wasn’t supposed to hope. He started the vehicle, putting it in gear and pulling out of the parking lot. Heading towards his daughter, heading towards hope.
He’d given up. A year of looking for her and he’d given up. The day Veronica had been declared legally dead, Keith had gone out, gotten drunk, and given up any hope of finding her alive. The guilt was eating him alive. He should have kept looking for her, he should have looked harder. He should have known a simple thing like a bus crash wouldn’t have ended his daughter’s life.
The images flashed behind his eyes, as he tried to picture how Veronica had ended up in Mexico. How she’d ended up dead, when really, she was only hours away. He imagined her running away, tired and miserable over the trial of the century, being hounded by reporters. She’d had enough of his heavy-handed scare tactics, her boyfriend tried to pressure her into something more. Keith glanced at Logan, staring blankly out the window. That one definitely wasn’t right.
She’d been swept out to sea, just like the search and rescue team had hypothesized. She’d been swept out to sea and had been picked up by a fishing boat. Veronica had bumped her head when she was pulled out of the bus, amnesia. There was no way she wouldn’t have come home, no way unless…
Someone else had found her, brought her to Mexico. They’d fished her out of the cold frigid water, pulling her waterlogged body out, and taking her to Mexico. They hadn’t let her come home, they hadn’t let her phone, they’d kept her a secret for nearly four years. Four years in Mexico as someone’s prisoner.
The images played over and over in his head, nearly driving him crazy. If she’d been able to, she would have come home. She would have called. Veronica would not run away from her problems. She was always a fighter. She didn’t back down. She would have come home.
“Stop that.” Logan’s voice cut through Keith’s vivid imaginings. Keith glanced over, taking in Logan’s blank mask.
“Stop what?” Keith tried to play innocent, tried to act like he hadn’t just been thinking of his daughter being held captive, being a prisoner against her will.
“Stop imagining whatever you’re imagining. We didn’t know.” Logan’s voice was carefully neutral, but Keith had learned to read the young man. He knew what Logan was thinking. He knew that Logan’s thoughts were mirroring his own.
They were both responsible for letting her go to easily. Keith turned back towards the road. At least Logan had mourned her long after Keith himself, had let her go. That was at least some consolation for Logan.
“I let her go, Logan.” Keith’s voice broke on Logan’s name. Angry desperation thick and harsh clogging his throat. “I didn’t look for her.” Keith wiped at his face angrily, the tears just wouldn’t stop, not tonight. They drowned him, choking him, salty and bitter on his tongue.
“Neither did I.” Logan’s voice finally lost the numbness it had during the conversation. Anger settling in its wake. “We had no reason to look for her, Keith. No reason. She’s been somewhere else, only hours away from Neptune, she’s been somewhere else and we didn’t look for her.” The tears came, went, came again, trickling down his cheeks unheeded. They weren’t important, not to Logan. The tears were cleansing, a testament to the guilt that was tearing through his insides.
Logan had mourned her, had felt that if they’d only had an ending, if they’d only been able to end things naturally, he’d be able to move on, he’d be able to forget her. He’d finally gone on a date, finally tried to move on with his life. He’d forgotten, for a moment, everything that she’d meant to him. He’d wanted to have a life again.
Veronica Mars was alive, and Logan Echolls had forgotten her. Only for an instant, only for one night, but he’d forgotten to miss her.
“Stop it,” Keith said, echoing Logan’s earlier statement. A small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, before it quickly slipped away. “Let’s wait, find out exactly what happened. There’s no sense in beating ourselves up until we know…” Keith trailed off at the confusion on Logan’s face. He’d been trying to placate Logan, but they both knew what would be in their heads tonight. They both knew what they were thinking.
They’d given up.
“We’ll wait. But that won’t stop the thoughts from tearing at us, from breaking us down until we’re no good to see her. We’ll be imagining the worst.” Logan stared steadily at the side of Keith’s face. “And between the two of us? We have pretty active imaginations.” There was no humor in his voice, no laughter sparkling in his eyes.
Keith and Logan had both lived lifetimes before their time. They’d seen too much, done too much, had to many things done to them. They knew what the real world held, the types of people that swam the dark ocean and preyed on people smaller than themselves. They knew, understood, couldn’t fathom, what they’d be facing at the hospital.
“It can’t be worse than what we’re imagining,” Keith mused out loud, unsure of the truth to his statement, and if he actually believed it.
“No. It could be much worse,” Logan murmured, before turning back towards the window, staring out into the inky blackness beyond the window.
The night sky was lit with stars, twinkling brightly, wavering in and out of Logan’s field of vision. They were like Veronica had been. Constant, there, even when he hadn’t wanted her to be. Nothing should be that beautiful, not when there were so many things that could have befallen Veronica in her years away from Neptune. The stars didn’t deserve to shine that brightly, that beautifully, not when they were suffering down here.
Logan believed, in his infinite cynicism, that it was a cruel cosmic joke. Make something so beautiful, then tear it all away.
He wanted to breathe, to breathe and be still, to sit motionless on the way to Los Angeles. He wanted to remember everything he’d loved about her, replaying the memories in his mind, until they drove him mad with the absurdity of it all. He wanted to remember Veronica the way she was, before he saw her the way she was now.
Absolute certainty flooded his system. The things that had happened to Veronica in her time away from him, they were worse, worse than anything either Keith or himself could imagine. They’d have had to be. Veronica Mars was not a quitter, she wouldn’t have run away, she wouldn’t have walked away without a backward glance. The girl was fearless, indestructible. Logan should know, he’d tried to destroy her often enough.
Veronica was loyal to the end, she always had been. She’d stood by Lilly, even after Lilly’s own death. She’d stood behind Lilly, even after finding out the truth. Lilly Kane had slept with her boyfriend’s father. Lilly Kane had slept with the leader of a biker gang. Lilly Kane was not who everyone thought she was. She was cold, bitter, cynical, and convinced that the world was her playground. Lilly Kane was nothing like Veronica’s best friend, not the real Lilly Kane. Still, Veronica stood her ground, because Veronica loved Lilly, and Lilly, Lilly loved herself.
Shaking himself from the dark thoughts that had taken over his mind, Logan looked toward the horizon, seeing the faint pinking of the sky, the first sign that sunrise was fast approaching. They’d been driving for a couple of hours, or at least, Keith had been driving and Logan had been brooding silently.
Glancing over at Keith, Logan saw that he wasn’t the only one that had been brooding. The dark scowl marring Keith’s face was just a tiny bit frightening. Logan took a moment to observe Keith, without being noticed. It wasn’t very often he got to see the unprotected side of Keith Mars. The man had been locked up tighter than a drum since the day he’d received a phone call from the Village Idiot. Lamb had been smug, unconcerned with the fact he was relaying this type of information to Keith Mars. Keith, in the following weeks, needed something to take his mind off Veronica. Something to occupy him.
He’d been thoroughly occupied by Donald Lamb. Logan grinned at the memory of Keith’s announcement. Running for Sheriff, he’d said, sadness staining his face, someone has to figure out what happened.
Logan had crawled out of the bottle long enough to lend his support. Lamb had won by a very small margin, the smear campaign he’d organized doing a nice little number on Keith’s popularity.
The following year, an emergency recall election had taken place, when Sheriff Lamb was caught in bed with a sixteen year old girl. Not just any girl, but the Manning’s youngest daughter, Grace. That had been a scandal and a half. Keith, supposedly, as he’d told Logan, had refused the job at first, but the city had begged. He’d only been in office for a few months when he handed in his resignation.
Too much corruption, too much pressure, too much politics. Alicia had been relieved, Wallace had been baffled, and Logan, well he’d been unsurprised. The heart had gone out of Keith when Veronica had died. When they’d thought she’d died. The fact that he’d been unable to protect her, unable to save her this time, it had taken all the fight out of him.
Aaron Echolls had nearly burned Veronica alive, trapped in a freezer, screaming at the top of her lungs. Logan’s own father, who had also murdered his first girlfriend, had shown no remorse for his actions, laughing in maniacal glee when the announcement of Veronica’s death had hit the airwaves. He’d thought he was getting off. Logan smirked, remembering how his father had requested to see him, sure of his victory now that the person who had solved the case was gone.
Logan had gone, one last time, to see his father, locked behind bars. He’d made Aaron a promise that day, a promise he kept. He’d watch Aaron die with a smile on his face. Two years after Veronica was gone, Aaron Echolls had died by lethal injection. The murder of the fabulous Lilly Kane, probably wouldn’t have been enough to get him the death penalty. The money trail the F.B.I. had tracked back to Aaron, the money trail that lead from the common thugs that had planted the bomb on the bus straight to Aaron, was enough to guarantee his demise.
The headlines had been riveting. Action movie star, Aaron Echolls, plotted, planned, hired common thugs, murdered fifteen innocent students of Neptune High, specifically to kill off the only witness in his murder trial. The press had hounded Logan, Keith riding to his rescue, as the story had heated up. His father had killed Logan’s first girlfriend, had attempted to kill Veronica, and had actually managed to do it the second time.
Pieces fell into place, tying together, a string of pearls that connected, and all strands led back to Veronica. The money trail had lead straight to Aaron, the money trail that had been traced to the bombing of the bus. Veronica was alive and the money trail led straight back to Aaron Echolls.
“Keith?” Logan spoke hesitantly, unsure of the theory that was brewing in his head. “They money trail… it leads back to Aaron.” He voiced the thought, knowing it was right as soon as the words left his mouth. Aaron Echolls had known Veronica was alive. His own father had… Logan stopped abruptly, knowing to continue, was a guarantee that he’d lose control.
“I thought about that.” Keith’s soft voice cut through Logan’s thoughts. Logan turned back to Keith, staring at his face for a moment before once again, hesitantly continuing.
“He said he’d make her pay.” The words were harsh, like nails on a chalk board, cutting right through to the heart of the matter. “He said we’d all pay for trying to pin Lilly’s murder on him.” Logan heaved a sigh, anger, desperation, bitterness clawing through him until he was torn to pieces on the inside.
“Let’s not think about it, at least until we talk to Agent Greene,” Keith stated, the anger in his own voice clear enough for Logan to hear.
“Agent Greene?” Logan questioned, voice still painted black with anger.
“The Agent that phoned me to tell me about Veronica. We’ll be meeting him at the hospital.” Keith thought for a moment before amending himself, “Or at least we were supposed to be meeting him at the hospital. He was sending a car in the morning, but by the time the car gets to the house, we’ll already be there.”
“Better phone him, let him know we jumped the gun.” A brief smile crossed Logan’s face, but it was gone all too quickly.
“We should be there in about an hour, I’ll phone when we get closer.” Keith turned back to the road, white knuckled fists gripping the steering wheel. Wishing that he could resurrect Aaron Echolls and slide the needle into Aaron’s arm himself this time. Keith backtracked that thought, it wasn’t enough, the humane lethal injection wasn’t enough. He wanted to bring Aaron back so he could maim his movie star face, wanted Aaron to bear the scars of Keith’s revenge for the rest of his life. He didn’t want Aaron to die, he wanted him to suffer.
More puzzle pieces fell into place, without facts, without evidence, Keith felt the hunch grow, expanding within him, taking over all sense of reason. He knew, without a doubt, that Aaron Echolls had something to do with Veronica disappearing. Keith knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, if this was true, if he found out that Aaron had tortured his baby girl, that had Aaron been alive, Keith would have killed him. Keith was positive, sure, absolutely certain, that the Veronica that was in a hospital room in Los Angeles, wouldn’t be the daughter that had left home to go on a field trip years before.
She couldn’t be. She wouldn’t be. But he had to hope, he had to hope that something of his bad-ass action figure daughter remained. Whatever she’d been through, whatever had been done to her, without her spunk, she may not survive. Keith knew he couldn’t survive losing her again.
Glancing at Logan once more, taking in his intent gaze out the window, Keith corrected himself, quietly, in his own head. Logan would follow her this time. It had been a close thing before, Logan being the drama queen he was wont to be. He’d stood on the edge of the Coronado bridge, drunk, stumbling, standing on the precipice looking down, barely caring that a small gust of wind, a slip of the foot, would send him plummeting to his death. Keith had a two o’clock phone call from Leo D’Amato, telling him where Logan was, what he was doing, and his state of public drunkenness.
Nearly falling out of bed in his haste to go and rescue a drunken Logan, Keith had tripped, breaking two toes on the bedside table. Driving had been a chore, the broken toes throbbing every time he put his foot on the accelerator. Logan hadn’t appreciated the gesture. Sobbing into the night, still standing on the ledge, whisky flask clutched firmly in his hand, Logan had wanted to die. It was plain to Keith, the look on his face making Keith stand up hesitantly, limping towards him, wanting to pull him back from the edge. He hadn’t been able to save Veronica, but maybe he would be able to save Logan.
They’d ended up sobbing together on the ground on the side of the Coronado Bridge. Tears and recriminations being let out into the cool night air. They’d lost something, gained something, tore each other to pieces. But Logan had survived, he’d gone on to live another day. Keith saw it, every time he looked Logan in the eye, that desperate need to end it all.
If it wasn’t Veronica, if it was, this could very well be the last straw.