Fic: Luck Has Nothing (Logan, Ensemble) (6/?) PG-13
Title: Luck Has Nothing
Chapter: 6/? - "Recovery Effort."
Author: hyperemmalawlz
Pairing/Character: Logan, ensemble. Some Logan/Veronica and canon Logan/Lilly + Duncan/Veronica.
Word Count: 2778
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "After all, I'd had a bad beginning, an ambiguous middle, and I'd given up on a happy ending the day I found my best friend's corpse." AU - Duncan was killed, not Lilly. Logan is left to deal with the murder.
Spoilers: Whole series, to be safe.
Warnings: Swearing, mature content. References to sex, murder, rape, general bad stuff.
Author's Notes: Title comes from the poem "Pain" by Edith Södergran.
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Veronica Mars.
LUCK HAS NOTHING
6: Recovery Effort
Big problem with my plan to make a bastard pay for hurting Meg: I had no idea how to do so. Crap.
“Okay,” I told her over the plastic table at lunch. “My many years of watching detective movies have taught me... pretty much nothing. But I think we should look at who would actually want to do this.”
Meg nodded along with me. “Okay,” she said. “But, y'know, I can't really think of anyone who'd want to...”
I sighed. “Well, that's unhelpful.” I paused for her to laugh. “Okay, to post the thing from your account, they'd have to have your password - right?”
“...I guess?”
“Can you think of anyone else that could possibly know it?”
Meg hesitated and bit her lip, and after a long moment I clicked my fingers in her face. “Yoo-hoo, Meg? There was a question?”
“I... okay, maybe my sister Lizzie would know it. But, I mean, we're close, and with... I just don't think she'd do something like this to me, that's all.”
I nodded. “Well, you know what they say. The people you love let you down.”
-
I found Lizzie lingering in the hallways at lunch. “Logan Echolls, hi,” she said, face twisting in a confused half-smile. “What are you doing here?”
“Funny story, actually, Lizzie,” I said. “You know that thing where your sister has been publicly humiliated for things we both know she wouldn't do? Yeah, it's kind of about that.”
Lizzie's smile faltered. “No way. She cannot seriously be accusing me of this.”
I shrugged. “She doesn't want to believe it - I do. Possibly just my major family issues, but she said herself you were... probably kind of the only one who could know her password. I don't have a lot of room to work with her.
I saw Lizzie shudder in rage. “I can't believe this,” she said, before hesitating and letting out a short bark of a laugh. “Wait a second, I can and I do. Why am I even surprised?” she asked. “And no, I didn't cause this mess with the purity test. Like it matters. Go on blaming me Echolls - I get blamed for everything else.”
I watched her sashay away from me with a firm expression on her face, and I still didn't trust her. Maybe I felt a little sorry for her.
-
When I met back up with Meg the next day, she was angrier than I expected. Given this was Meg, it only really translated as a slightly annoyed expression, but still.
“Why, I always like to start the day with a hot, passionate blonde waiting on my every move,” I said, and saw her eyes roll.
“I wouldn't talk like that Logan. Obviously it's just a prelude to us running off to have hot monkey sex,” she said bitterly. I blinked.
“Hasn't gotten any better?”
She shook her head. “Nah. Oh, and by the way, could you try not to piss my sister off like that? She pretty much took my head off.”
I shrugged. “Hey, prime suspect in the purposely-destroying-your-reputation thing. Thought you might appreciate a hand.”
Meg sighed. “You find anything out?”
“She denies it; we have no real proof one way or another. This square one place it starting to get kind of old, don't you think?”
Meg hesitated. “Look, Logan... thanks for trying, and all that. But I don't think...” she took in a deep breath. “Maybe this isn't just the sort of thing you should deal with. Maybe I should just cut my losses and run, you know?”
I felt the sting of letting her down, but didn't let it showed. I raised my trademark sardonic grin. “Maybe. But you deserve to have someone on your side, Meg.”
She gave me a smile, a little too wobbly around the edges. “I know. And, just... thanks, Logan,” she said, affectionately gripping the side of my arm - briefly - before she walked away.
Maybe I was fooling myself to think I could ever help her.
-
It was a couple of days later when it was announced in homeroom, Mrs. Murphy's droning voice telling us about it.
“Our guidance counsellor, Rebecca James, has recently received a grant to study the long-term effects of grief in adolescents,” she read out from her flimsy piece of paper, and I could tell this was heading somewhere bad. “Over the next week, she will be requesting interviews with those who, last year, she considered most affected by the death of Duncan Kane.”
The was an obligatory, artificial moment of silence and grief at the mention of his name. The hair on the back of my next bristled, but soon our teacher was moving on to other matters, and the classroom around me became a source of vapid chatter again.
That put me in a bad mood for quite a few hours, well into when I was stalking the Neptune High grounds alone at lunch. I overheard people in my vicinity - the PCHers, who I never cared for - say my dead best friend's name, and I groaned at my bad luck.
“Just fucking typical,” one of them - Felix, I think his name was - complained. “One rich, white boy carks it, and the whole fucking world's still going on about it over a year later. We drop off like flies down here, and no-one gives a shit. I mean, who noticed when old Reaper-” Felix's sentence cut off mid-way through. I felt my insides twist in rage. “Point is - it sure shows where the priorities lie around here, right?”
There was general murmuring of agreement, and their leader - Weevil, who I knew because he was the grandson of my family's maid - spoke up. “Tell me about it. Duncan Kane drops dead and he's a fucking hero, who gives a crap the guy probably didn't do a decent thing in his life? Hell, I saw some things - I don't think anyone could blame whoever for wanting the bastard dead.”
I wasn't entirely sure how I got from point A to point B; point A being 'standing a few feet away, eavesdropping' and point B being 'repeatedly punching Weevil in the face very hard.' I heard his head crack against the pavement as I held him down with the arm I wasn't using to hit him, feeling satisfied at the sight of blood dripping out of his nose. Weevil wasn't going to just lie there and take it, and he was bigger than me, so with a few solid punches on his side, we were on more even ground.
I barely noticed the sensation of blood on my face, or the wind rushing out of my lungs, until I could feel Coach Preppernau pulling me off the bastard, while I continued to snarl.
“The... fuck?!” Weevil announced loudly, and I was in no state to answer.
-
I was, unsurprisingly, sent to Vice Princpal Clemmons office. I watched him tap a pen on his desk, while I leaned back in the opposing chair.
“So,” he said. “You want to explain to me what that fight was about, Logan?”
I shrugged, and decided the simple truth would work best. “He was saying shit about my dead best friend; I got pissed; I pummeled him.”
“So you were defending Duncan?” Clemmons asked, not able to conceal his raised eyebrow.
“Well, given he's been dead for over a year now, I didn't think he'd do such a great job of defending himself,” I bit back. There was an awkward pause.
“So, how long are you people exiling me?” I asked. Clemmons sighed.
“I think, due to the circumstances, we can let you off without suspension. Consider yourself warned, Logan,” he said harsly, but I couldn't help but smile. Clemmons was annoying, and kind of a douche at times, but fair. Usually.
“Okay then.”
“I think... given your relation to the deceased Duncan Kane, it would be appropriate to schedule your session with Ms. James soon? Tomorrow, fifth period, perhaps?”
I nodded, a plan suddenly springing to life in my mind. “Sounds good.”
-
That afternoon, I went to Keith's office. I could overhear the rise and fall of his voice with a client, so I waited in the chair directly opposing Carrie.
“So, you know what it is this time?” I asked her. “Not that I really care, I'm just bored. Sticky divorce, affairs, corporate sabotage?”
Carrie chewed on her bottom lip, looking a lot more nervous than I would ever expect from her. “Logan, I'm just the secretary. What exactly do you think I'll be able to tell you?”
I shrugged. “Can you at least tell me who that is?”
I saw her wince, and cocked my head to the side curiously. “Could you not ask me that?” she said, so instead, I focused on the voice of the client.
In between the bursts of Keith's harsher, stronger tone, I could hear a soft voice. Female, and gentle. She sounded like she had spent entirely too much time crying. In a second, I realized I recognized that voice and my mouth went dry.
“Mom.”
Carrie raised her shoulders. “Sorry?” she offered.
I barely had a moment to prepare before the door to the office swung open, and my mother stepped out in full glamor. She froze when she saw me, as if she couldn't quite believe I was real.
“Logan?” she asked tentatively. I smiled.
“Hey Mom,” I said, before shooting a puzzled look over her shoulder, at Keith. The last time he, my mother and I had all been in the same place, Lynn was standing by Aaron's side as he insisted that he would never hurt his son, or his son's best friend. The press lapped it up and turned on me, and Mom never said a word in my favor.
Keith shrugged, and my mother forced an awkward smile to her face. “Well, uh, it's good to see you,” she told me uncomfortably.
“Yeah.”
She turned back to Keith. “Look, I know our families have... had our differences,” she said, and I had to stifle a snort at the euphemism. “But I need this done. Please, treat this as you would any othr case.”
Keith nodded firmly. “Of course. Good to see you, Lynn,” he said, as she smiled and left. I took in a deep breath, and Keith looked down at me sympathetically.
“Sorry about that, Logan.”
I shrugged. “Free country; she can go where she likes,” I said, listening to the rhythmic tap of Carrie's pencil on the desk.
“Listen, is there something I can do for you, Logan?” he asked, and I trailed him into his office.
“Look, Keith. There's this thing at school - our counselor is requesting interviews with the people most affected by Duncan's death.”
Keith's eyes narrowed skeptically, but he nodded. “Uh-huh.”
I sighed. “Listen, I think, if someone knows something they haven't told... they might be more likely to say it there. Maybe someone knows something they don't even know is important, and it's kind of a long shot, but...”
Keith shook his head. “Logan, I told you before I don't want you investigating this case. I don't think this is a good idea.”
“So what, I should just sit there and behave like a good little boy?” I said bitterly.
“Logan, Aaron Echolls is dangerous. He hurt you most of his life, and possibly killed Duncan - your putting yourself at risk by investigating this, and I'm not sure it's worth-”
“He was my best friend!” I burst out. Keith just stared at me for a few seconds, as I took two deep breaths.
He raised his hands in defeat. “I'm not going to talk you out of this, am I?”
“Pretty much no.”
“So why are you telling me about this; what do you need?” he asked. I smiled.
“Look at you, all helpful. I need one of your bugs; you know, something I can hide in the room. We'll listen in, see what they know.”
Keith grimaced. “You get caught with all this, you're on your own you know. I'm going to desert and live a new life in Switzerland.”
“Don't worry. I've got a cyanide capsule in a false tooth; I'll do the honorable thing.”
Keith nodded. “I've got plenty in the back room,” he said, before leaving the get them for me. He returned, and planted a few in my hand.
“In case one stuffs up or something,” he explained.
“Thanks,” I said, then paused. “Hey - what was my mom in here about, just before?”
Keith sighed. “Your father has a stalker. Threatening letters, something about last Halloween... Lynn asked me to look into it.”
I raised an eyebrow. “She asked you to look into it?”
“Surprised me too. She seemed less than comfortable.”
I leaned forward, idea suddenly occurring. “Wait, she wants you to look into it...”
Keith looked way. “What are you thinking, Logan?” he asked. I chuckled.
“Come on. God knows how long wondering around the Echolls house, allegedly helping them? You don't smell opportunity here?” I paused. “Look. We've got to find out what happened to Duncan - I think we're the only ones who can. And if my dad really did kill him? We should take every chance we get to make the bastard pay.”
Keith nodded slowly. “I guess. I'll see what I can do, Logan.”
I nodded, before raising myself to leave. “Okay. Thanks, Keith.”
“Logan?” he said, and I turned back around. “Be careful, okay?”
“Am I ever not?”
He laughed out loud.
-
My appointment with Ms. James went as well as could be expected. I was comforted by the knowledge that I had another purpose for being here, as I examined the stapler lying on her desk. I had been sent here enough times due to my 'disciplinary problems' that I could remember what it looked like, and buy a copy.
“So, Logan. How have you been?”
“Really good, Mrs. J. How about you?” I over-enthused. She just raised an eyebrow.
“Do you really think you're meant to call me 'Mrs. J'? Especially when the divorce papers were finalized a month or so ago?”
I shrugged. “Not really, no.”
“Ah.” There was a pause. “So... after Duncan died, last year, you were inconsolable. You wouldn't open up to me, to anyone... I really hope this year you'll be able to talk about it.”
I idly picked up the stapler, wrenching it's jaws open. “I know,” I said quietly. “I'm just not really sure what there is to say.”
She nodded. “Well, is there... something you feel you need to tell me?”
I paused. “Not really, no,” I actually smiled. “Don't get all offended; it's not your fault. I'm just not so big on talking about it - it doesn't do jackshit, after all.”
“I'd rather you use appropriate language, Logan,” she said softly. “But, why do you say that?”
I shrugged. “No matter what I say, Duncan is still dead and no-one is paying for it. Well, no-one who actually deserves to pay,” I said. “I'm going feel better when someone,” Aaron, my mind screamed at me, Aaron, “Is rotting in jail - or strapped to the chair - for what they did to him.”
Ms. James sighed. “Logan - I don't think focusing all your attentions on getting vengeance for his sake is a healthy way of coping.”
“I'm not big on the healthy in general,” I said, before very deliberately dropping her stapler on the floor. I flashed a brief apologetic look, before scooping down to allegedly pick it up - actually swapping it with the bugged one from my bag. I came back up, and placed the stapler on the bench.
“Logan, I do want to help you.”
“I know. You will, trust me.”
I left before she could say anything else.
Chapter: 6/? - "Recovery Effort."
Author: hyperemmalawlz
Pairing/Character: Logan, ensemble. Some Logan/Veronica and canon Logan/Lilly + Duncan/Veronica.
Word Count: 2778
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "After all, I'd had a bad beginning, an ambiguous middle, and I'd given up on a happy ending the day I found my best friend's corpse." AU - Duncan was killed, not Lilly. Logan is left to deal with the murder.
Spoilers: Whole series, to be safe.
Warnings: Swearing, mature content. References to sex, murder, rape, general bad stuff.
Author's Notes: Title comes from the poem "Pain" by Edith Södergran.
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Veronica Mars.
LUCK HAS NOTHING
6: Recovery Effort
Big problem with my plan to make a bastard pay for hurting Meg: I had no idea how to do so. Crap.
“Okay,” I told her over the plastic table at lunch. “My many years of watching detective movies have taught me... pretty much nothing. But I think we should look at who would actually want to do this.”
Meg nodded along with me. “Okay,” she said. “But, y'know, I can't really think of anyone who'd want to...”
I sighed. “Well, that's unhelpful.” I paused for her to laugh. “Okay, to post the thing from your account, they'd have to have your password - right?”
“...I guess?”
“Can you think of anyone else that could possibly know it?”
Meg hesitated and bit her lip, and after a long moment I clicked my fingers in her face. “Yoo-hoo, Meg? There was a question?”
“I... okay, maybe my sister Lizzie would know it. But, I mean, we're close, and with... I just don't think she'd do something like this to me, that's all.”
I nodded. “Well, you know what they say. The people you love let you down.”
-
I found Lizzie lingering in the hallways at lunch. “Logan Echolls, hi,” she said, face twisting in a confused half-smile. “What are you doing here?”
“Funny story, actually, Lizzie,” I said. “You know that thing where your sister has been publicly humiliated for things we both know she wouldn't do? Yeah, it's kind of about that.”
Lizzie's smile faltered. “No way. She cannot seriously be accusing me of this.”
I shrugged. “She doesn't want to believe it - I do. Possibly just my major family issues, but she said herself you were... probably kind of the only one who could know her password. I don't have a lot of room to work with her.
I saw Lizzie shudder in rage. “I can't believe this,” she said, before hesitating and letting out a short bark of a laugh. “Wait a second, I can and I do. Why am I even surprised?” she asked. “And no, I didn't cause this mess with the purity test. Like it matters. Go on blaming me Echolls - I get blamed for everything else.”
I watched her sashay away from me with a firm expression on her face, and I still didn't trust her. Maybe I felt a little sorry for her.
-
When I met back up with Meg the next day, she was angrier than I expected. Given this was Meg, it only really translated as a slightly annoyed expression, but still.
“Why, I always like to start the day with a hot, passionate blonde waiting on my every move,” I said, and saw her eyes roll.
“I wouldn't talk like that Logan. Obviously it's just a prelude to us running off to have hot monkey sex,” she said bitterly. I blinked.
“Hasn't gotten any better?”
She shook her head. “Nah. Oh, and by the way, could you try not to piss my sister off like that? She pretty much took my head off.”
I shrugged. “Hey, prime suspect in the purposely-destroying-your-reputation thing. Thought you might appreciate a hand.”
Meg sighed. “You find anything out?”
“She denies it; we have no real proof one way or another. This square one place it starting to get kind of old, don't you think?”
Meg hesitated. “Look, Logan... thanks for trying, and all that. But I don't think...” she took in a deep breath. “Maybe this isn't just the sort of thing you should deal with. Maybe I should just cut my losses and run, you know?”
I felt the sting of letting her down, but didn't let it showed. I raised my trademark sardonic grin. “Maybe. But you deserve to have someone on your side, Meg.”
She gave me a smile, a little too wobbly around the edges. “I know. And, just... thanks, Logan,” she said, affectionately gripping the side of my arm - briefly - before she walked away.
Maybe I was fooling myself to think I could ever help her.
-
It was a couple of days later when it was announced in homeroom, Mrs. Murphy's droning voice telling us about it.
“Our guidance counsellor, Rebecca James, has recently received a grant to study the long-term effects of grief in adolescents,” she read out from her flimsy piece of paper, and I could tell this was heading somewhere bad. “Over the next week, she will be requesting interviews with those who, last year, she considered most affected by the death of Duncan Kane.”
The was an obligatory, artificial moment of silence and grief at the mention of his name. The hair on the back of my next bristled, but soon our teacher was moving on to other matters, and the classroom around me became a source of vapid chatter again.
That put me in a bad mood for quite a few hours, well into when I was stalking the Neptune High grounds alone at lunch. I overheard people in my vicinity - the PCHers, who I never cared for - say my dead best friend's name, and I groaned at my bad luck.
“Just fucking typical,” one of them - Felix, I think his name was - complained. “One rich, white boy carks it, and the whole fucking world's still going on about it over a year later. We drop off like flies down here, and no-one gives a shit. I mean, who noticed when old Reaper-” Felix's sentence cut off mid-way through. I felt my insides twist in rage. “Point is - it sure shows where the priorities lie around here, right?”
There was general murmuring of agreement, and their leader - Weevil, who I knew because he was the grandson of my family's maid - spoke up. “Tell me about it. Duncan Kane drops dead and he's a fucking hero, who gives a crap the guy probably didn't do a decent thing in his life? Hell, I saw some things - I don't think anyone could blame whoever for wanting the bastard dead.”
I wasn't entirely sure how I got from point A to point B; point A being 'standing a few feet away, eavesdropping' and point B being 'repeatedly punching Weevil in the face very hard.' I heard his head crack against the pavement as I held him down with the arm I wasn't using to hit him, feeling satisfied at the sight of blood dripping out of his nose. Weevil wasn't going to just lie there and take it, and he was bigger than me, so with a few solid punches on his side, we were on more even ground.
I barely noticed the sensation of blood on my face, or the wind rushing out of my lungs, until I could feel Coach Preppernau pulling me off the bastard, while I continued to snarl.
“The... fuck?!” Weevil announced loudly, and I was in no state to answer.
-
I was, unsurprisingly, sent to Vice Princpal Clemmons office. I watched him tap a pen on his desk, while I leaned back in the opposing chair.
“So,” he said. “You want to explain to me what that fight was about, Logan?”
I shrugged, and decided the simple truth would work best. “He was saying shit about my dead best friend; I got pissed; I pummeled him.”
“So you were defending Duncan?” Clemmons asked, not able to conceal his raised eyebrow.
“Well, given he's been dead for over a year now, I didn't think he'd do such a great job of defending himself,” I bit back. There was an awkward pause.
“So, how long are you people exiling me?” I asked. Clemmons sighed.
“I think, due to the circumstances, we can let you off without suspension. Consider yourself warned, Logan,” he said harsly, but I couldn't help but smile. Clemmons was annoying, and kind of a douche at times, but fair. Usually.
“Okay then.”
“I think... given your relation to the deceased Duncan Kane, it would be appropriate to schedule your session with Ms. James soon? Tomorrow, fifth period, perhaps?”
I nodded, a plan suddenly springing to life in my mind. “Sounds good.”
-
That afternoon, I went to Keith's office. I could overhear the rise and fall of his voice with a client, so I waited in the chair directly opposing Carrie.
“So, you know what it is this time?” I asked her. “Not that I really care, I'm just bored. Sticky divorce, affairs, corporate sabotage?”
Carrie chewed on her bottom lip, looking a lot more nervous than I would ever expect from her. “Logan, I'm just the secretary. What exactly do you think I'll be able to tell you?”
I shrugged. “Can you at least tell me who that is?”
I saw her wince, and cocked my head to the side curiously. “Could you not ask me that?” she said, so instead, I focused on the voice of the client.
In between the bursts of Keith's harsher, stronger tone, I could hear a soft voice. Female, and gentle. She sounded like she had spent entirely too much time crying. In a second, I realized I recognized that voice and my mouth went dry.
“Mom.”
Carrie raised her shoulders. “Sorry?” she offered.
I barely had a moment to prepare before the door to the office swung open, and my mother stepped out in full glamor. She froze when she saw me, as if she couldn't quite believe I was real.
“Logan?” she asked tentatively. I smiled.
“Hey Mom,” I said, before shooting a puzzled look over her shoulder, at Keith. The last time he, my mother and I had all been in the same place, Lynn was standing by Aaron's side as he insisted that he would never hurt his son, or his son's best friend. The press lapped it up and turned on me, and Mom never said a word in my favor.
Keith shrugged, and my mother forced an awkward smile to her face. “Well, uh, it's good to see you,” she told me uncomfortably.
“Yeah.”
She turned back to Keith. “Look, I know our families have... had our differences,” she said, and I had to stifle a snort at the euphemism. “But I need this done. Please, treat this as you would any othr case.”
Keith nodded firmly. “Of course. Good to see you, Lynn,” he said, as she smiled and left. I took in a deep breath, and Keith looked down at me sympathetically.
“Sorry about that, Logan.”
I shrugged. “Free country; she can go where she likes,” I said, listening to the rhythmic tap of Carrie's pencil on the desk.
“Listen, is there something I can do for you, Logan?” he asked, and I trailed him into his office.
“Look, Keith. There's this thing at school - our counselor is requesting interviews with the people most affected by Duncan's death.”
Keith's eyes narrowed skeptically, but he nodded. “Uh-huh.”
I sighed. “Listen, I think, if someone knows something they haven't told... they might be more likely to say it there. Maybe someone knows something they don't even know is important, and it's kind of a long shot, but...”
Keith shook his head. “Logan, I told you before I don't want you investigating this case. I don't think this is a good idea.”
“So what, I should just sit there and behave like a good little boy?” I said bitterly.
“Logan, Aaron Echolls is dangerous. He hurt you most of his life, and possibly killed Duncan - your putting yourself at risk by investigating this, and I'm not sure it's worth-”
“He was my best friend!” I burst out. Keith just stared at me for a few seconds, as I took two deep breaths.
He raised his hands in defeat. “I'm not going to talk you out of this, am I?”
“Pretty much no.”
“So why are you telling me about this; what do you need?” he asked. I smiled.
“Look at you, all helpful. I need one of your bugs; you know, something I can hide in the room. We'll listen in, see what they know.”
Keith grimaced. “You get caught with all this, you're on your own you know. I'm going to desert and live a new life in Switzerland.”
“Don't worry. I've got a cyanide capsule in a false tooth; I'll do the honorable thing.”
Keith nodded. “I've got plenty in the back room,” he said, before leaving the get them for me. He returned, and planted a few in my hand.
“In case one stuffs up or something,” he explained.
“Thanks,” I said, then paused. “Hey - what was my mom in here about, just before?”
Keith sighed. “Your father has a stalker. Threatening letters, something about last Halloween... Lynn asked me to look into it.”
I raised an eyebrow. “She asked you to look into it?”
“Surprised me too. She seemed less than comfortable.”
I leaned forward, idea suddenly occurring. “Wait, she wants you to look into it...”
Keith looked way. “What are you thinking, Logan?” he asked. I chuckled.
“Come on. God knows how long wondering around the Echolls house, allegedly helping them? You don't smell opportunity here?” I paused. “Look. We've got to find out what happened to Duncan - I think we're the only ones who can. And if my dad really did kill him? We should take every chance we get to make the bastard pay.”
Keith nodded slowly. “I guess. I'll see what I can do, Logan.”
I nodded, before raising myself to leave. “Okay. Thanks, Keith.”
“Logan?” he said, and I turned back around. “Be careful, okay?”
“Am I ever not?”
He laughed out loud.
-
My appointment with Ms. James went as well as could be expected. I was comforted by the knowledge that I had another purpose for being here, as I examined the stapler lying on her desk. I had been sent here enough times due to my 'disciplinary problems' that I could remember what it looked like, and buy a copy.
“So, Logan. How have you been?”
“Really good, Mrs. J. How about you?” I over-enthused. She just raised an eyebrow.
“Do you really think you're meant to call me 'Mrs. J'? Especially when the divorce papers were finalized a month or so ago?”
I shrugged. “Not really, no.”
“Ah.” There was a pause. “So... after Duncan died, last year, you were inconsolable. You wouldn't open up to me, to anyone... I really hope this year you'll be able to talk about it.”
I idly picked up the stapler, wrenching it's jaws open. “I know,” I said quietly. “I'm just not really sure what there is to say.”
She nodded. “Well, is there... something you feel you need to tell me?”
I paused. “Not really, no,” I actually smiled. “Don't get all offended; it's not your fault. I'm just not so big on talking about it - it doesn't do jackshit, after all.”
“I'd rather you use appropriate language, Logan,” she said softly. “But, why do you say that?”
I shrugged. “No matter what I say, Duncan is still dead and no-one is paying for it. Well, no-one who actually deserves to pay,” I said. “I'm going feel better when someone,” Aaron, my mind screamed at me, Aaron, “Is rotting in jail - or strapped to the chair - for what they did to him.”
Ms. James sighed. “Logan - I don't think focusing all your attentions on getting vengeance for his sake is a healthy way of coping.”
“I'm not big on the healthy in general,” I said, before very deliberately dropping her stapler on the floor. I flashed a brief apologetic look, before scooping down to allegedly pick it up - actually swapping it with the bugged one from my bag. I came back up, and placed the stapler on the bench.
“Logan, I do want to help you.”
“I know. You will, trust me.”
I left before she could say anything else.