Fic: I'm the Hero of the Story (1/2)
Title: I'm the Hero of the Story
Author: monroeslittle
Characters/Pairings: Veronica, Keith, Logan, Mac, Wallace, Piz (eventual LoVe)
Word Count: 8,645 (this part)
Rating: PG
Summary: "She's starting to remember what you've told her. She's starting to remember that her name is Veronica Mars and she's your daughter, but she's not remembering being Veronica Mars or being your daughter. She's not remembering what happened before. She's not remembering who she is. Only who she's supposed to be."
A/N: This is for the table challenge in round nine of vmfic_gameon. I used all 25 words and am way too proud of myself. Title is from "Hero" by Regina Spektor.
i.
Vera likes her coffee sweet, and she likes to watch the dark coffee turn a delicious caramel colour as she pours the cream in.
She has the same routine every morning.
She wakes up at six in the morning. She runs on the treadmill for half an hour, never a minute less, never a minute more. She showers. She makes herself coffee, and she pours in the cream, and she makes oatmeal, with brown sugar and blueberries sprinkled on top.
She arrives at work by 7:15 every morning. She works at the library, and she loves it. She loves the calm and quiet of the library. She loves the routine of it. The books are familiar to her, a kind of familiar she easily understands and remembers, and the books expect nothing of her. The people that troupe in and out, sometimes asking her for help, other time simply requiring her to accept their library card and let them take out books, are easy to please. They know nothing of her and want to know nothing of her.
She likes that best. She's long since tired of disappointing people with expectations she doesn't know how to meet.
She works until 10:15 in the morning, when she takes a fifteen minute break and has her second cup of coffee for the day. At 12:15, she takes a half hour for lunch, and while she eats a ham and cheese sandwich in the library kitchen in the back, she calls her father to say hello. He no longer asks what she remembers, and she's grateful for that.
The afternoon is slow, but she doesn't mind. She immerses herself in cataloguing, and when the day is especially slow, reading of her own. At 4:00, her work day is done. The library remains open, but there are others to look after it. Vera goes home. Her apartment is small and neat and she loves it very much.
She prepares herself a nice dinner, one with a fresh salad or lemon chicken or a new recipe from a recipe book she occasionally reads in the library. She eats while she watches the news, and by seven thirty, she sits in her bed, reading for two or three hours. She really does love her books.
Before she goes to bed, she calls her father again.
Sometimes there is a sigh in his voice, but he is always kind, so she pretends not to notice the sigh, because she does have some sympathy for him. The poor man seems unable to accept how she wishes to live her life, but he clearly loves her, and for that she remains on affectionate terms with him.
Her life is not an exciting one, but excitement is of little importance to Vera.
ii. 2019. February 9th. 11:42 pm.
Keith banged on the door.
Generally, Keith considered himself a laid back man, but he had a temper, he knew, and he could get angry with the best of them. He was angry now. He was furious.
He was about to rapt his knuckles on the small blue door again when it swung open, and he almost banged his knuckles against the surely kid's head. "Keith?" the boy asked, his annoyance melting into confusion. "What are you doing here? Has something happened?" The confusion gave way to concern, and the sincerity of it dulled Keith's anger ever-so-slightly.
"We need to talk," Keith told him, leaving no room for argument. "You know about what." And before he could be stopped, Keith pushed his way into the house.
"Keith, I think I know what this is about -"
"No. You're not going to talk. I'm going to talk." He turned on the kid, and his fury reared to new heights of its own accord. "I know we haven't gotten along the last few years, but this - this is unacceptable. If you think that just because I didn't want you marrying my daughter, that means you can abandon her -"
"I'm not abandoning her!" he protested, his eyes bulging.
"No?" Keith asked. "You haven't been by the hospital in over a week. And when I talked to the nurse today, she happened to mention something to me. Apparently you told my daughter you were in her room with flowers because you were delivering them."
The kid had the audacity to wince. "I - I was a little overwhelmed."
"You were overwhelmed?" Keith roared. "My daughter nearly died, and she's had to start from scratch and her entire life is in shambles, but yes, yes, let's make this about you!"
"I'm not making this about me," he said defensively, looking like a kicked puppy.
It made Keith really want to kick him. He tried to calm himself down. "She needs help right now," he said, his teeth gritted. "She needs support. She needs -"
"She doesn't need me," he said. Keith was ready to let it rip, but the skinny kid went on hastily. "She doesn't even remember me! She doesn't remember any of us! And everything we tell her she forgets by the next day if not in a few hours. And - and when she asked me again who I was and what I was doing in there, I knew if I told her the truth, she would get upset and say that she couldn't possibly be engaged to me, so I just suddenly blurted that I was delivering flowers. It was stupid, but I. . . . How am I supposed to help her and support her if all I do is freak her out and she doesn't even want to know who I really am?"
He looked desperate.
Keith had no sympathy. Zilch. Zero. His generous heart was generously untouched.
A kind of acid churning in his gut, Keith took a step towards him, his face set. "You're supposed to love her enough to help see her through. That's the only thing you're supposed to do."
"I do love her!"
"No," Keith said. "No. You don't. And you don't deserve her. You've never deserved her."
"Okay, okay, look - I'll come by the hospital tomorrow and -"
"No. I didn't come here to plead for you to come the hospital. I came here to tell you it's done. You and my daughter are done. I'm going to help her. The people who actually care about her, who actually love her, are going to help her. And when she's better, you're not going to be a part of her life."
"Keith," he protested softly.
But Keith was already on his was to the door. His hand on the knob, he glanced back at the tall, thin, despicable little brat. Maybe in a few days, maybe when he was calmer or Veronica had showed some signs of improvement, maybe then he would have some sympathy for the pathetic boy, maybe then he wouldn't want to club him to death and leave the body in a gutter, but not now.
He almost forgot. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small diamond ring. He held it up. He walked a few feet to the nearby kitchen island and slammed it down on the marble counter. "You," he said, pointing a finger at the kid, "Stosh Piznarski, are never to come anywhere near my daughter again."
And he slammed the door shut behind him.
iii.
Vera doesn't like Rachel.
She has to work with the redhead three days a week, and they are her least favourite three days. Rachel spends all her time complaining about how boring it is to work in a library, and how she wants to do something that really makes a difference. She wants to perform surgeries or make laws or fight bad guys. It's absolutely ridiculous. If Rachel wants such an adventure, if Rachel thinks that being a librarian is such a waste of time, why is she doing it?
"I'm just saving up some money," Rachel always answers. "But as soon as I get enough, I'm going to get out of here, and I'm going to do something grand."
Vera doesn't like the word grand.
Rachel has just given a spiel about how maybe she could go to work for the CIA someday, how she'll be a spy who steals top secret information, wearing all black and using infrared goggles to find enemies of states in dark woods, and it has put Vera into a thoroughly bad mood. She is checking books back into the system, pounding the keyboard a little too hard, when someone approaches the counter. "Just a moment," she says. She slams the enter button.
"That's right," he says, "show that keyboard who's boss."
Her head snaps towards the man. He looks vaguely familiar, and her stomach drops. Oh, God. Usually when someone looks vaguely familiar, it means that she's about to face an immensely awkward conversation with someone who knows her, who remembers her and wants to talk and to be her friend and to reconnect, but who is a complete stranger to Vera.
"Um, can I - can I check these out?" he asks, looking a little taken aback, and he holds up two books, one a copy of Crime and Punishment. Vera likes the great Russian works.
"Oh, yes, of course," she says, taking them from him and giving a small, slightly mortified smile. Apparently he doesn't know her. She relaxes slightly at that notion. She could have sworn she'd seen him in the hospital, that her recollection of his frame and face came from there, but that was a mess of muddy memories to her now.
"Have you ever read it before?" she asks.
"Crime and Punishment or Your First Parakeet?" There's a grin in his voice. His second book is indeed about the bird. "It's for my kid," he adds.
"I meant Crime and Punishment," she says.
"In high school," he says. "I'm hoping it'll make more sense the second time around, or, you know, when I actually care." He gives a kind of wry smile, and she notes that he's a sort of attractive. Not the typical kind, but there's something about him. She glances at his finger. He has a kid but not a wedding ring.
"I hope it does," she replies. "It really is good. I think you'll enjoy it."
"Good," he says.
"Do you have a library card?" she asks. She already suspects his answer, because if he did, she would surely have seen him before. She's been working here for months now.
"Oh, um, no. I'm actually not really a big library person. But you can get me one, right?"
"Of course," she assures him. "Just fill out this form, here." She hands him the sheet. "And I'll assign a number to you and give you a card, and . . ." It only takes a few minutes. Soon he has his brand new library card and two books in hand.
"Thanks for everything . . . ?"
"Vera," she supplies.
"Thanks for everything, Vera," he says, smiling. "I'll let you know how I like it." He nods at Crime and Punishment.
"Please do," she tells him. "It was nice to meet you -" She glances at the form he just filled out. "- Logan," she says. "Have a good day."
"You know," he replies, "I think I just might." There's a bright look in his eyes, and for a moment she thinks again that maybe - "It was nice to meet you, too." He leaves.
And Vera really does hope Logan comes back again.
iv. 2019. March 15th. 4:22 pm.
Keith sat outside the hospital on one of the benches, his head tilted back to touch the brick wall. He spent most of his time in the hospital these days; he had for weeks. But it hadn't gotten any easier. It had become routine, but it hadn't come anywhere close to easy.
The coffee in his hand was from the hospital, and he didn't think it all that horrible. He should know, too. He drank it three times a day.
He liked sitting outside the hospital. He could be in the sun, away from the sterile, white walls and floor and rooms, from the doctors and nurses who all meant well but who could only do so much, away from what he was slowly losing the strength to handle, but no one would bother him. Sitting outside the hospital, those going in and out understand, even if they didn't know, and they left him be.
Keith had never liked being left be so much as he did now.
When someone approached him and slowly sank down onto the bench beside him, he knew who it was. There was only one other person who came to the hospital every day, one other person who would know exactly where Keith was and would have no hesitation in joining him. "Morning, Logan," Keith greeted.
"Morning," Logan replied quietly.
"How are you?"
"Been better."
"And Lilah?"
"Been a lot better. She doesn't understand any of this."
Keith nodded. How could she? He barely understand it all. "It'll get better," he said. It was something of his tag line these days, and it came out automatically. "Dr. Reed said she remembered a few things from yesterday. That's good. She's remembering." He tried to cling to that idea, to that hope.
"No," Logan said, "she's not."
Keith looked over at him, but Logan didn't meet his gaze. The boy leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and stared out into the parking lot. Keith knew he wasn't seeing asphalt or cars.
"She's starting to remember what you've told her. She's starting to remember that her name is Veronica Mars and she's your daughter, but she's not remembering being Veronica Mars or being your daughter. She's not remembering what happened before. She's not remembering who she is. Only who she's supposed to be." His voice sounded kind of hollow.
"That's progress," Keith said. It was, wasn't it? The doctors said as much. "And, honestly? If she never remembers who she was, that's okay. I'll help her. And as long as she has the ability to make new memories, it'll be okay."
"That's just it," Logan said. "I . . . ah, Mac and Wallace and . . . we've been talking, Keith. Veronica has trouble with all of us. She can't handle the pressure of us visiting every day and expecting her to know who we are."
Keith said nothing.
"Wallace is going to keep coming," Logan said. "He's gonna be the best friend she needs. He'll come and you'll come and that's what she needs. She won't be abandoned."
"But?" Keith asked.
"But Mac and I are going to stop coming. Before you get upset, we're not giving up on her. But the chances of her really remembering who she was . . . they're slim. And right now trying to force it on her is only hurting. So when she gets out of here, when she's able to live again, Mac and I will reintroduce ourselves. Start fresh with her. Maybe that's messed up, maybe that's . . . wrong. But I don't what else to do, and I have to do something, because Lilah can't live like this, and maybe . . . I just think it would work this way."
He finally looked at Keith, and the older man could see the strain in Logan's eyes. "You don't come here for Lilah," he said softly. He knew that. For a while he and Logan had pretended that was why Logan came everyday, but they both knew better.
"No," Logan said. "I come here for me. But now I have to do what's best for Lilah, and for Veronica, and . . . maybe it'll be what's best for me, too." His face was set. There would be no changing his mind.
Keith reached out and rested his hand on Logan's shoulder. "Okay," he said. "Okay."
Logan nodded.
Keith took another sip of his coffee. It had gone cold. He sighed. He drank the rest of it anyway. There were, after all, worse things in this world than cold coffee.
v.
Logan returns to the library four days later. Vera is impressed. "You read it in four days?" she asks.
"I'm a writer," he tells her, "if I want to take four days off of work to read dark Russian thriller novels, nobody complains." He gives her that bright, sly smile, and she finds her insides warm a little.
"A writer?" She's doubly impressed. That's such a romantic career.
"Don't get excited," he says. "I didn't say that I was a good writer."
"Well, did you like it?" she asks. "Crime and Punishment, I mean."
"I did, actually. I like that the guilt was enough to change him. I don't know if that's always how it works, though." He pauses. "I'm generally of the black or white school of thought."
"Nothing's ever black or white," she says. "I think everyone has a little good and a little evil inside."
"Hmm," he says. "Interesting." She feels as if she's missing something, but he only goes on to ask for a recommendation of another great Russian work, and she gives him Fathers and Sons. He checks it out on his library card, and he leaves. She kind of wishes he had dawdled a little.
That night on the phone with her father, Vera thinks about telling him of Logan. She decides not to. The only thing he's really interested in hearing is that Vera has remembered something, and she never does. She'll keep her affection for a man she barely knows to herself, at least for now.
Logan comes again a few days later. He didn't like Fathers and Sons. They talk about it for a little while. He asks her how long she's worked at the library and what her days are like there. "What's it like to be a librarian?" he asks. "Give me all the dirty details." She likes it when there's a teasing tint to his words. He's the first person in her memory who treats her normally, who treats her as if she isn't made of glass.
She gives him another recommendation, he leaves, and she eagerly waits for him to come back.
When he does, he surprises her. "Have you heard of that new pizza place on West Main?" he asks her. She shakes her head. "Great. I'll be the first to take you there. Come on." She tries to protest, but he insists. "You brown bag it every day," he says. "You told me so. Come on. Let me take you to lunch. I promise I don't chew with my mouth open."
So she lets him take her to lunch. It's not like she really has a choice.
He won't tell her the books he's written, because he knows she'll tease him. "I won't!" she swears. But he doesn't budge, and he says she won't be able to find them, because he writes with a pseudonym. They talk about other books some more, and he asks her about television and movies. She doesn't really watch either, she tells him, and he promises to take her to the movies some time.
He doesn't ask about her past at all, and she's unimaginably glad for that. What would she tell him? she doesn't have a past. Her life consists of the last few months. It's nice. He drops her back off at the library afterward, and she's twenty minutes later. But she just can't be bothered to care.
Logan returns two days later. He has tickets to a movie that night. His grin is contagious.
She doesn't know what to wear out, but she convinces herself it is not a date - she barely knows him. They're only friends. Truth be told, she probably can't handle any more than that. In fact, she knows that she can't. She finds a nice blouse to wear, and she tries to make her hair look pretty, and the movie is fun.
She's never been to a movie before. At least, not that she can remember.
They talk about politics and the news a little, and he makes her swear to watch some police drama on television, and he tells jokes about his editor, and he tells her he sometimes thinks about writing a screenplay, and it's fun and easy and nice. Vera really does like him, and she thinks he might be her best friend. She can't tell him that, of course, because that would mean explaining so much - like why she doesn't really have any other friends, like why the man named Wallace isn't her best friend, but Veronica's best friend.
Vera is not Veronica. She's not.
Logan stops coming to the library when he needs to check out a book. Instead, he comes every day, and sometimes he takes her out to lunch, and sometimes they just chat, and Vera likes this new facet of her routine.
When he tells her he's celebrating July 4th at a friend's house, he invites her to come with him. "She won't mind," he promises. Vera isn't sure about going to a stranger's house and having to deal with countless people - she doesn't much like people - but he tells her there will only be three people there, he and she included. "And you'll like Mac," he assures her. "I promise."
She agrees.
She makes a vegan dish and brings a bottle of wine to give to Mac as a thank you for inviting her. She's a little worried that it's inappropriate to bring wine to a July 4th party, but she goes ahead and does it anyway. Mac is nice enough, and she looks more together than Vera's ever felt. "I'm so glad Logan brought you," Mac says. "Two for a party is even too pathetic for me."
When Vera hands her the vegan casserole, Mac is more than a little surprised. "I would never have thought you would . . . you just don't look like someone who goes for vegan dishes. But thank you so much!" She turns away.
Vera looks at Logan, who only shrugs.
The night passes quickly, and Vera loves ever minute of it. It isn't at all uncomfortable, and she decides she likes having friends. They eat dinner, they watch somewhat anti-climactic fireworks in the distance from Mac's balcony, and lastly they watch The Terminator on TV. It's fun. She likes Mac and she likes Logan and there's not much more to it.
vi. 2019. April 27th. 9.56 am.
"And," Keith said, grinning, "I rented The South Park Movie. I know, I know - we should just buy it. But there's something about renting it." She was finally coming home. The hospital had declared her well, had said that though her memories might not have returned, she was more than able to make new memories, and she was otherwise functioning as if nothing had ever happened.
It was really all going to be okay. This morning, this very morning, Keith was signing her out.
"I've never seen it," Veronica told him. She sat on the edge of the bed, wearing the jeans and sweater Keith had brought for her, looking as out of place as she always did these days. It was the way she held herself, he suspected. Her shoulders were hunched in, her balance seemed precarious, she was continually tucking her short hair - it had all been cut off during surgery - behind her ear and nervously fidgeting her foot.
"Oh, well, yes, but trust me - you're gonna love it, honey. It's your favourite."
"You don't know that," she snapped. Her face was pinched, and when she looked at him, Logan's words from a few months ago floated to mind. She knew that she was supposed to be Veronica Mars, that she was supposed to be his daughter, but she didn't remember it. All he was to her was the man who came every day and told her that he was her father.
Keith's grin faded.
She looked away. She took her emotionless, careless eyes and glanced at the far wall. Her foot tapped the ground. Keith didn't know what to do. He never knew what to do anymore. Nurse Chase chose that moment to walk into the small room, her attention on the clipboard in her hands. "Everybody ready?" she asked. She looked up and smiled.
"Yes," Veronica said, standing up and crossing her arms tightly over her chest.
"We're ready," Keith told Nurse Chase. "Packed and all. I've signed pretty much every form in the history of the world."
Nurse Chase chuckled kindly. "I've just got one more for you, Mr. Mars." She held the clipboard out to him. "And then it's home again, home again. Are you excited, Veronica?"
"It's Vera," Veronica corrected. "I go by Vera. It's simpler. I don't like the name Veronica."
"Well, Vera's very pretty," Nurse Chase said, taking the clipboard from Keith. "Now, I'm not going to give you a sermon on taking care of yourself, Vera, mainly because I know Dr. Reed already did, but remember - don't try to put too much strain on yourself right away. Recovery is a process that lasts long after you leave the hospital."
Veronica nodded curtly and Nurse Chase left with a final goodbye. Keith looked at Veronica. She was staring at her feet. Biting back a sigh, he started to leave, knowing she would follow. She was good about that. She knew how to listen to what he or the doctors or the nurses told her and she new how to do it. She knew how to repeat words and memorise facts and follow someone else's lead.
She knew how to follow someone else's lead.
It was so unlike her, so unlike Veronica. But that was why she insisted on being called Vera, wasn't it? Because she wasn't Veronica. She had said it more than once. She wasn't Veronica. She was someone else, and he had to realise that.
Much as he loved her, he doubted he ever would.
vii.
Her father asks her to have dinner at his house often, but Vera usually says no (she's more for monthly dinners while as he's more for, say, nightly dinners). It's always a strained, awkward affair, especially when he invites friends, like Cliff or Wallace or Alicia. She doesn't know these people. She wishes she could have the chance to, but they're too busy telling her all about Veronica.
It kind of makes her hate them.
But she's in such a good mood, she has been a lot lately, so she tells her father on the phone that she would love to come over for dinner on Saturday. It's been over a month since she met Logan, and she's long since realised that she might have those kind of feelings for him. She doesn't know how to say it, of course, and what would come of it?
She really doesn't know that much about him, about his past. All she knows is that his parents are both dead, he doesn't see much of his sister or his brother, and he's a single father. And she's never met his kid, although he's showed her the adorable little girl's picture. And he certainly knows nothing of her past. What can she possibly tell him about it?
Those feelings won't simply go away, however, and maybe she doesn't want them to. She has to have a life, doesn't she?
When she arrives at her father's house, she can't say she's thrilled to see that Wallace is there. She coaches herself to be on her best behaviour as she gives her father a kiss on his cheek. "How are you, honey?" he asks. He never calls her Vera. He doesn't call her Veronica, either, so that's something, but she knows there's a reason he always uses endearments.
"I'm really well, thanks," she says. The small house is familar to her; she lived there for two months before she convinced her father it would be easier on them both for her to have her own place. She thanks the heavens every time she visits her father's apartment that he let her use his old office space - "Back before I was sheriff, I used to be a P.I. You were my assistant. You don't remember? You used to love it. You got a P.I. license, too. It's okay; I'm sure you'll remember soon." - as her own home.
"Hey V," Wallace greets.
"Hi Wallace," she says, smiling politely. He, like her father, has found a convenient way around calling her Vera or Veronica. "How's Stacy?" Stacy is his wife. Vera has only met her a few times. Apparently, Veronica was in the wedding. That means nothing to Vera.
"Pretty good, pretty good," Wallace says, nodding his head. "How's the library?"
"The same as usual," she replies, handing her coat and purse to her father, "which is just the way I like it."
They make small talk for a while, and it isn't too terrible. She almost tells them about Logan and Mac, but she stops herself. For some reason, she wants to keep her new friends to herself. After all, if she starts talking about friends, she'll get to hear a speech about the friends that Veronica had.
It happens later that night. Keith wants to make ice cream sundaes, and Vera fetches the ingredients from the cabinet. "What do you want on yours, Wallace?" she asks.
"Chocolate shell," he replies, "and some cherries. The ice cream kind, not the real kind. And marshmallows!" He's as excited as a little kid. Vera smiles as she pulls everything off the shelves.
"Oh, wait," Keith says, "I was at the grocery store and I got - it's good," he brags, grinning, "and I actually left it in the car. Don't move!" He runs outside.
Vera shakes her head at him. As hard as it is to be around a man who desperately wants her to be somebody she isn't, she finds him kind of endearing despite it all. "Don't skimp on that chocolate shell, now," Wallace tells her, slipping onto one of the stools at the kitchen island.
Vera reaches back to the cabinet for bowls, and when she turns around, she sees it all. It's just suddenly there, as if it had never not been there. "My mom thinks I'm staying at Norman's house."
"Who's Norman?" Vera asks.
Wallace frowns. "What? Norman?"
"Norman is my imaginary, straight-A, Eagle Scout 'mama's boy' friend."
"He sounds boring for an imaginary friend."
"Mom seems to like him."
Vera stares at Wallace, who looks mildly concerned now. Keith comes back into the house. "Twizlers on ice cream!" he says gleefully, holding up the packet of red candy. Vera barely notices him. She's actually remembered something. She doesn't feel any different. She doesn't feel like she really knows Wallace. She doesn't feel like Veronica.
But it's all still there somewhere, isn't it?
"V, you okay?" Wallace asks.
"I - I'm fine," she says, turning away. "I just . . . nothing." She forces a shaky smile.
But neither man lets it go. "Did you remember something?" Wallace presses. There's too much hope in his voice. "Somebody named Norman?"
And Vera can't help herself. "Your imaginary friend," she says. "Straight A, Eagle Scout . . . your mom likes him because . . . because she doesn't like me." It's all there. That one moment, the sights, the sounds, the feelings, the reasons. But it's only one minute in time.
"Yeah," Wallace says, "yeah, I remember that! And my mom totally came around, but . . . yeah!"
"Oh, sweetheart, this is great," Keith says, pulling Vera into a hug. "We definitely deserve these sundaes now, don't we?" There are actual tears in his eyes.
And this is too much for Vera. How much will their expectations soar after this? She can't handle that. She's only just now become comfortable in her own skin. "It's nothing, really," she insists. "It doesn't even mean anything."
"But it's something!" Wallace declares.
"I . . . I actually, you can stop making my sundae, Dad. I have to go. I - I have a dentist appointment tomorrow, I have to be up early, and . . . I'm sorry." She doesn't really have an appointment, but it's the best excuse she can make at that moment. "This was really nice. I'll see you later."
She's already grabbing her coat from the coat hanger. "Wait, honey," Keith says, his eyes wide and wounded. Vera stubbornly pushes down her guilt. They do this to themselves, really.
"You can stay another half hour, can't you?" Wallace asks.
"I really can't, I'm sorry," she insists. She grabs her purse.
"Veronica, if this is about -"
"It's Vera," she cuts in. "I'm not Veronica."
She shuts the door firmly behind her, and they don't try to stop her.
viii. 2019. April 30th. 2.31 pm.
Vera walked Keith's pitbull along the beach. He told her she used to love walking their old dog along the beach. This is a different dog, he said. Backup died years ago, but she loved this sweet girl just as much.
Vera didn't listen too much. She didn't know this dog, and she didn't know Backup, and hearing her father tell her over and over how much Veronica had loved this dog and loved Backup and loved walking along Dog Beach was a waste of her time.
Still, it was nice to get out of the house. Nobody on the beach tried to talk to her, and the breeze was pleasant, and Vera didn't mind being by herself. In fact, it was probably how she liked it best these days.
"Veronica!"
Oh, please no, Vera thought. Maybe it was another Veronica. Maybe if she simply didn't respond, nothing would come of it.
"Hey! Veronica! Wait a minute!"
The man who fell suddenly in step with her was panting a little but he smiled brightly. "Didn't you hear me?" he asked. He had light brown hair and he looked about her age. She probably knew him from school, and he would have no idea what had happened to her, that she wasn't Veronica, and she would have to try to explain it all.
"Sorry," she said. "I was . . . in another world." She gave a tight smile.
"It's cool. So, how are you? I haven't seen you since. . . ."
She shrugged.
"You're mad, aren't you? Yes. You're mad." He swooped suddenly in front of her, and she was forced to stop walking. The dog tugged on her leash, but Vera merely tugged back and avoided looking at the man. "It's not my fault," he said. "It was so hard to come in and see you like that, and then your dad said that I couldn't any more, and nobody even told me you were out."
"Out?" Vera echoed.
"Of the hospital. That's so great, Veronica. Are you staying with your dad?"
So he knew. But he didn't understand. "I go by Vera now," she replied.
"Vera? Um, okay, that's cool. Kind of rocker chick, I like it." He paused, as if wanting her to say more, but she did no such thing. "How long have you been back home?"
"A few days," she answered.
"Um, how's Lilah? She never much liked me, but I really miss that little squirt." He laughed awkwardly. "I - I miss you, too." His voice went soft. "Look, I don't know what your dad told you, and believe me, I wish I could have done things differently, but I -"
"Who's Lilah?" Vera asks.
His eyebrows fly up. "You don't know?"
She hates it when people ask that question. She lost her memory. How is that a hard concept to grasp? "Honestly?" Vera says, losing her temper. "No, I don't. I don't know who she is and I don't know who you are. I don't know who anybody is. I had my head bashed in. If you went to the hospital, shouldn't you know that?" She glares at him.
He looks like somebody stole his lunch money. "I thought you were doing better. . . ."
"I am," she snapped.
"But how can you not . . ." He cleared his throat. "You really don't . . . ? I'm - I'm Piz. Well, it's Stosh, actually. Stosh Piznarski, but I go by Piz. Less of a mouthful, you know. We went to Hearst together. I was Wallace's freshmen roommate. You know who Wallace is, right?"
Vera didn't much care for Piz. "I know him," she said. "Look, Piz, I actually can't really talk right now. I have to be back at the house. I'm sorry. I'll see you later." She turned away to walk back to her car, dragging the pitbull with her.
"Wait, Veronica, wait!" he said. "Do you really not remember anything? We've known each other for years. We were - we were engaged. We were supposed to get married." He spoke as if the words held some power.
She looked at him. She felt nothing in seeing his face: no memory, no vague recollection, no emotion, no attachment. He was a stranger to her. "I don't know you," she told him. There wasn't much more to say.
"Okay - that's okay," he said hastily, once more blocking her path. "We can start over again. You're all I've ever wanted, Veronica. We can start over again. Make new memories, you know?" He reached out to touch her arm.
She jerked away from him. "I don't think so. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to contact me again."
"But - I mean - I - why?"
"Because I'm not Veronica."
When she returned to the house, she decided not to say anything to her father about Stosh Piznarski. She never heard from him or about him again. And that, at least, was one thing for which to be grateful.
ix.
Vera sits on Mac's couch, her feet pulled under, as she and Mac eat Chinese takeout and Mac rants about her new boss. Mac manages to add a bit of dry humour to everything she says, to every story she tells, and Veronica loves that about her. Mac is good people, and there's something comforting about about being around her.
"So," Mac says, using a fork to stab her chicken, as she long ago declared that she was too tried for chopsticks tonight. "Are you excited for your date with Logan tonight?"
"It's not a date!" Vera protests, feeling her neck warm.
"He's taking you out to dinner and a movie," Mac argues. "That sounds like a date to me."
"We're just spending the evening together as friends," Vera insists. "We've done that plenty of times before."
"And this really isn't any different?"
"It's not."
"Sure."
"It's not!"
Mac pauses, and she tilts her head slightly. "Do you want it to be?"
Vera is about to say that of course she doesn't, but she considers for a moment. "I don't know," she admits. "It's complicated. I really like him, I do. But there's a lot about my - my past that I haven't really explained to you or Logan. And I like my routine."
She really does. She likes waking up at the same time every morning. She likes lots of cream in her coffee. She likes a regimented schedule at the library. She likes falling asleep reading her books in bed. It's not much, but it's the best life Vera could carve out for herself. What would be the risks of seeking more? She's not much of a risk-taker.
"No routine can really last forever," Mac says softly.
Feeling a need to be honest, to say what she's really thinking, Vera tells Mac, a kind of confessional tone to her voice, "I am a little nervous about going out with him. I mean, going out to dinner and a movie, because we're not going out - we're not dating."
Mac tries to bite back a smile, but she isn't entirely successful. Vera decides to pretend that she is. "What are you wearing? Something simple? Something sexy?"
"Simple," Vera says. "Definitely simple. I don't even own anything sexy." She makes a face.
Mac chuckles. "You should at least wear something different. Something new and exciting. It doesn't have to be for him. Just something that makes you feel good, you know?"
"I don't really have time to go shopping," Vera tells her. She eyes Mac. "Could I borrow something from you?" Don't girls do that sort of thing? She wants to have a good girl friend, someone who belongs entirely to Vera, not Veronica.
Mac is surprised. "I don't have anything too great," she says. "I'm not really Ms. Fashion. But if you want, sure. You can go try some things on now if you want. I'll check the brownies." She smiles.
"Thanks so much," Vera says, putting down her carton and standing up.
"The skirts and dresses and in the closet," Mac says. "But never underestimate your ability to glamorise a nice pair of pants, my favourite article of clothing. They're in the dresser by the window." She grins and starts towards the kitchen.
Vera has only been in Mac's bedroom a handful of times. It is as clean but a little untidy as the rest of the house, and it feels so very lived in. She goes for the closet first. Vera went shopping for clothes once, a month out of the hospital, and it was so nice to wear clothing that belonged to her, to Vera, and not to Veronica.
But she doesn't think she'll mind wearing something that belongs to Mac.
She pulls a few dresses off their hangers and tries them on. "How're you doing in there?" Mac calls.
"Fine!" Vera yells back.
She likes the third dress. It's a little long, and she tries to imagine if she has any shoes that could go with it. "Can I borrow some shoes, too?" she shouts to Mac.
"Go wild!" Mac shouts back.
Vera smiles and looks around for shoes. There are some at the bottom of the closet, but they're mostly flip flops and clogs. The shelves at the top of the closet are overfilling with boxes, but she spies silver high heels. Those would be perfect. When she tries to tug them out, however, she ends up bringing three boxes with them. She catches two, but the third falls.
Pictures smear across the ground.
Vera hurriedly shoves the other two boxes back into the closet and then bends down to put the pictures back in the box and return it to its spot. Mac is doing a nice thing for her, and here Vera is making a mess of Mac's things.
Then Vera actually looks at a picture. And she sees herself.
No. She sees Veronica. With long blonde hair and sunglasses, Veronica sticks her tongue out at the camera, an arm around a boy who is clearly Wallace and another arm around a girl who is clearly Mac. Vera chokes on her breath.
She looks at another picture. Veronica's not in it. But she is in a third picture and a fourth and a fifth. Vera doesn't know what to do. Mac does know Veronica. When Logan brought Vera by the house, did Mac simply decide to pretend she didn't? Judging by these pictures, it looks as if Mac was as good a friend to Veronica as Wallace was.
"Found something you like?" Mac yells. "Come show it off!"
Vera doesn't answer, because she's fighting a losing battle with tears.
It isn't just Mac. There's a picture that has Veronica grinning slyly at the camera, and standing right beside her, his arm circling her waist and a smarmy look on his face, is Logan. She's sure of it. Oh, God.
There's a taint suddenly to every single moment Vera shared with Mac and, worse still, with Logan.
"Vera," Mac says, pushing open the bedroom door. "Did you get lost or something?"
Vera glances up from where she kneels on the ground, surrounded by pictures. Her eyes land on Mac, who meets her gaze, a flush of understanding rising in her face. Vera stumbles to her feet. "Vera," Mac murmurs.
"No," Vera says. "Don't."
"Wait, you need to let me explain," Mac protests.
Vera pulls off the dress she's wearing and yanks her jeans on. "There's nothing to explain."
"There's a lot to explain," Mac says.
Vera has to get out of there. She can't cry in front of Mac, she can't, but she's pretty sure she's rapidly losing the willpower not to. She buttons and zips her jeans and then grabs her sweater. "I don't want to hear it," she tells Mac. "I just want to go home. I can't be here. I can't deal with this."
"We thought it would be easier," Mac says.
"You and Logan were both close to Veronica, weren't you? And you pretended not to know me at all!"
"You said you weren't Veronica!" Mac says. "You said you were Vera! And if you wanted to be a new person, then why couldn't we act like we had never met you, like you were a new person to us? You are! And that's how we were treating you! We were trying to do what you wanted."
"It's not that simple," Veronica says. Her sweater is on. A moment later, her flip flops are, too.
"Nobody ever said it was simple. This hasn't been easy for either of us -"
"I didn't ask for you to do this, for you and Logan to - to lie to me." She pushes past Mac and out of the room. She's on her way out of that apartment, and she can't escape fast enough. She sees her purse on the table and she has it in her hands in an instant.
"Don't do this, Vera," Mac says. "Don't just run out. Listen to me."
"Vera or Veronica?" Vera spits.
"I said Vera, didn't I?" Mac asks, and she's angry. "I know you're pissed. I know. And you have a right to be. We did lie, and it we weren't the most model friends to do that to you. But we weren't without reason, and no matter how angry you get, you can't walk out on us. Because you don't know everything."
"I know enough," Veronica says. "This has been a real riot, Mac, but I have to go." She reaches for the door.
"No," Mac says. "You don't know anything, and there's a lot that we've been avoiding telling you, because we thought it would be easier, but clearly it's never going to be easy. You can't ignore your past. What if Veronica had hepatitis? That would affect you, too. You might not remember it, but you still have a past."
"I don't have a past!" Vera tells her. "Can't you see that? Can't you see that I just want to escape Veronica? I'm not her! I don't have her memories! I don't have her personality! I don't have her life! And I'm sick of people wanting me to be her! I thought you and Logan were my friends, I thought you were my friends."
"We are," Mac says softly.
Vera wipes furiously at her eyes. "I don't ever want to see you again - you or Logan."
"You're going to have to," Mac says, her face seeming to set, "because whether you like it or not, you and Veronica have a lot in common, including the same past, and there are things Veronica did, parts of her life, people she knew and who's lives she affected that you can't just run from."
"I can't handle that - this," Vera says."Don't you understand that?"
Mac looks at her with a kind of apology in her eyes, as if she's about to rip off a band aide. "Too bad," she says, "because you're going to have to. Logan isn't just an old friend of Veronica's.
"Logan is your ex-husband, Vera. And, right now, because you can't handle it, he's raising your daughter alone."
x. 2019. June 12th. 8:43 pm.
Keith sat down heavily. He was so exhausted these days. Logan handed him a beer.
"I really shouldn't," he said.
"I'll pay for a cab," Logan offered. "You need it, trust me." He sat down at the kitchen table beside Keith, a beer of his own in hand.
Keith sighed. "Thanks," he said. "Veronica's moving out."
"You're kidding," Logan said.
Keith shook his head. "I wish I was. But it's what she wants. She's been talking about it since the week she first moved in. She needs her space." He laughed bitterly. "I'm sorry. Vera needs her space."
"I'm sorry, man," Logan said.
"Me, too," Keith said. "She's going to live in the old Mars Investigations office. I never had the heart to rent it out, so we're renovating it into an apartment. It's big enough for her, apparently."
"Maybe it'll trigger some memories for her."
"Maybe," Keith said. But he kind of doubted it, and looking at the kid that was once his son-in-law - and should have stayed his son-in-law, as far as Keith was concerned - he knew that Logan kind of doubted it, too. "But maybe it'll just be a reason for her to pull further from me and from Wallace and from who she once was."
"One day at a time," Logan said. "Isn't that our motto?"
Keith smiled. "It's been mine for a long time, son." It's quiet. "Where's Lilah?"
"Put her to sleep an hour ago," Logan said. "But if you want to say hi, you can wake her up."
"No, no," Keith said, shaking his head. "Let her sleep. I'll be able to come by a lot more once Veronica's moved out." He paused. "How - how is she?"
"Not great," Logan admits. "She still doesn't get it. I told her that Mommy was sick, and she asked why she can't bring Mommy soup and juice and read to her and make her feel better like Mommy does for her when she's sick." There was bitterness thick in his words. "What am I supposed to say? This isn't in Parenting for Dummies. What do I - how am I supposed to explain it? Sorry, baby, but Mommy doesn't know who you are?"
"I don't know," Keith said, sighing again. "I just don't know. We could try . . . we could try telling Veronica about her."
"Wouldn't she freak out? And how would she treat Lilah? Would it do more harm than good?" It was obvious Logan had thought about it. So had Keith. And neither had any answers. A part of Keith thought it was the best thing to do. Veronica needed to know she had a daughter, and Lilah deserved an explanation. It just wasn't that easy.
It went quiet again. They were one pathetic duo, the two of them, both grown men, sitting in a small kitchen at ten at night, drinking beers and lamenting how hard their lives were. But what were they supposed to do?
"She works at the library, right?" Logan asked.
"Got a job there last month," Keith confirmed. He looked at Logan to see the boy staring down at his bottle.
"I think I'm going to go see her. Introduce myself, you know - do what we talked about. If she gets comfortable with me, comes to trust me, maybe when the time is right, we can explain the truth and . . . and Lilah will get her mom back."
Keith nodded. "Lilah needs a Mom," he said.
"She needs Veronica," Logan said.
We do, too, Keith thought. But Logan already knew that.
To Be Continued VERY soon :)
A/N: This is an idea I've been toying with for a while, and I'm very excited to write it and post it finally. Still to come is -- how/why LoVe fell apart, what actually happened to Veronica, more about the lovely Lilah, and how it all ends up -- stay tuned! :) And please review!
Part 2a.
Author: monroeslittle
Characters/Pairings: Veronica, Keith, Logan, Mac, Wallace, Piz (eventual LoVe)
Word Count: 8,645 (this part)
Rating: PG
Summary: "She's starting to remember what you've told her. She's starting to remember that her name is Veronica Mars and she's your daughter, but she's not remembering being Veronica Mars or being your daughter. She's not remembering what happened before. She's not remembering who she is. Only who she's supposed to be."
A/N: This is for the table challenge in round nine of vmfic_gameon. I used all 25 words and am way too proud of myself. Title is from "Hero" by Regina Spektor.
i.
Vera likes her coffee sweet, and she likes to watch the dark coffee turn a delicious caramel colour as she pours the cream in.
She has the same routine every morning.
She wakes up at six in the morning. She runs on the treadmill for half an hour, never a minute less, never a minute more. She showers. She makes herself coffee, and she pours in the cream, and she makes oatmeal, with brown sugar and blueberries sprinkled on top.
She arrives at work by 7:15 every morning. She works at the library, and she loves it. She loves the calm and quiet of the library. She loves the routine of it. The books are familiar to her, a kind of familiar she easily understands and remembers, and the books expect nothing of her. The people that troupe in and out, sometimes asking her for help, other time simply requiring her to accept their library card and let them take out books, are easy to please. They know nothing of her and want to know nothing of her.
She likes that best. She's long since tired of disappointing people with expectations she doesn't know how to meet.
She works until 10:15 in the morning, when she takes a fifteen minute break and has her second cup of coffee for the day. At 12:15, she takes a half hour for lunch, and while she eats a ham and cheese sandwich in the library kitchen in the back, she calls her father to say hello. He no longer asks what she remembers, and she's grateful for that.
The afternoon is slow, but she doesn't mind. She immerses herself in cataloguing, and when the day is especially slow, reading of her own. At 4:00, her work day is done. The library remains open, but there are others to look after it. Vera goes home. Her apartment is small and neat and she loves it very much.
She prepares herself a nice dinner, one with a fresh salad or lemon chicken or a new recipe from a recipe book she occasionally reads in the library. She eats while she watches the news, and by seven thirty, she sits in her bed, reading for two or three hours. She really does love her books.
Before she goes to bed, she calls her father again.
Sometimes there is a sigh in his voice, but he is always kind, so she pretends not to notice the sigh, because she does have some sympathy for him. The poor man seems unable to accept how she wishes to live her life, but he clearly loves her, and for that she remains on affectionate terms with him.
Her life is not an exciting one, but excitement is of little importance to Vera.
ii. 2019. February 9th. 11:42 pm.
Keith banged on the door.
Generally, Keith considered himself a laid back man, but he had a temper, he knew, and he could get angry with the best of them. He was angry now. He was furious.
He was about to rapt his knuckles on the small blue door again when it swung open, and he almost banged his knuckles against the surely kid's head. "Keith?" the boy asked, his annoyance melting into confusion. "What are you doing here? Has something happened?" The confusion gave way to concern, and the sincerity of it dulled Keith's anger ever-so-slightly.
"We need to talk," Keith told him, leaving no room for argument. "You know about what." And before he could be stopped, Keith pushed his way into the house.
"Keith, I think I know what this is about -"
"No. You're not going to talk. I'm going to talk." He turned on the kid, and his fury reared to new heights of its own accord. "I know we haven't gotten along the last few years, but this - this is unacceptable. If you think that just because I didn't want you marrying my daughter, that means you can abandon her -"
"I'm not abandoning her!" he protested, his eyes bulging.
"No?" Keith asked. "You haven't been by the hospital in over a week. And when I talked to the nurse today, she happened to mention something to me. Apparently you told my daughter you were in her room with flowers because you were delivering them."
The kid had the audacity to wince. "I - I was a little overwhelmed."
"You were overwhelmed?" Keith roared. "My daughter nearly died, and she's had to start from scratch and her entire life is in shambles, but yes, yes, let's make this about you!"
"I'm not making this about me," he said defensively, looking like a kicked puppy.
It made Keith really want to kick him. He tried to calm himself down. "She needs help right now," he said, his teeth gritted. "She needs support. She needs -"
"She doesn't need me," he said. Keith was ready to let it rip, but the skinny kid went on hastily. "She doesn't even remember me! She doesn't remember any of us! And everything we tell her she forgets by the next day if not in a few hours. And - and when she asked me again who I was and what I was doing in there, I knew if I told her the truth, she would get upset and say that she couldn't possibly be engaged to me, so I just suddenly blurted that I was delivering flowers. It was stupid, but I. . . . How am I supposed to help her and support her if all I do is freak her out and she doesn't even want to know who I really am?"
He looked desperate.
Keith had no sympathy. Zilch. Zero. His generous heart was generously untouched.
A kind of acid churning in his gut, Keith took a step towards him, his face set. "You're supposed to love her enough to help see her through. That's the only thing you're supposed to do."
"I do love her!"
"No," Keith said. "No. You don't. And you don't deserve her. You've never deserved her."
"Okay, okay, look - I'll come by the hospital tomorrow and -"
"No. I didn't come here to plead for you to come the hospital. I came here to tell you it's done. You and my daughter are done. I'm going to help her. The people who actually care about her, who actually love her, are going to help her. And when she's better, you're not going to be a part of her life."
"Keith," he protested softly.
But Keith was already on his was to the door. His hand on the knob, he glanced back at the tall, thin, despicable little brat. Maybe in a few days, maybe when he was calmer or Veronica had showed some signs of improvement, maybe then he would have some sympathy for the pathetic boy, maybe then he wouldn't want to club him to death and leave the body in a gutter, but not now.
He almost forgot. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small diamond ring. He held it up. He walked a few feet to the nearby kitchen island and slammed it down on the marble counter. "You," he said, pointing a finger at the kid, "Stosh Piznarski, are never to come anywhere near my daughter again."
And he slammed the door shut behind him.
iii.
Vera doesn't like Rachel.
She has to work with the redhead three days a week, and they are her least favourite three days. Rachel spends all her time complaining about how boring it is to work in a library, and how she wants to do something that really makes a difference. She wants to perform surgeries or make laws or fight bad guys. It's absolutely ridiculous. If Rachel wants such an adventure, if Rachel thinks that being a librarian is such a waste of time, why is she doing it?
"I'm just saving up some money," Rachel always answers. "But as soon as I get enough, I'm going to get out of here, and I'm going to do something grand."
Vera doesn't like the word grand.
Rachel has just given a spiel about how maybe she could go to work for the CIA someday, how she'll be a spy who steals top secret information, wearing all black and using infrared goggles to find enemies of states in dark woods, and it has put Vera into a thoroughly bad mood. She is checking books back into the system, pounding the keyboard a little too hard, when someone approaches the counter. "Just a moment," she says. She slams the enter button.
"That's right," he says, "show that keyboard who's boss."
Her head snaps towards the man. He looks vaguely familiar, and her stomach drops. Oh, God. Usually when someone looks vaguely familiar, it means that she's about to face an immensely awkward conversation with someone who knows her, who remembers her and wants to talk and to be her friend and to reconnect, but who is a complete stranger to Vera.
"Um, can I - can I check these out?" he asks, looking a little taken aback, and he holds up two books, one a copy of Crime and Punishment. Vera likes the great Russian works.
"Oh, yes, of course," she says, taking them from him and giving a small, slightly mortified smile. Apparently he doesn't know her. She relaxes slightly at that notion. She could have sworn she'd seen him in the hospital, that her recollection of his frame and face came from there, but that was a mess of muddy memories to her now.
"Have you ever read it before?" she asks.
"Crime and Punishment or Your First Parakeet?" There's a grin in his voice. His second book is indeed about the bird. "It's for my kid," he adds.
"I meant Crime and Punishment," she says.
"In high school," he says. "I'm hoping it'll make more sense the second time around, or, you know, when I actually care." He gives a kind of wry smile, and she notes that he's a sort of attractive. Not the typical kind, but there's something about him. She glances at his finger. He has a kid but not a wedding ring.
"I hope it does," she replies. "It really is good. I think you'll enjoy it."
"Good," he says.
"Do you have a library card?" she asks. She already suspects his answer, because if he did, she would surely have seen him before. She's been working here for months now.
"Oh, um, no. I'm actually not really a big library person. But you can get me one, right?"
"Of course," she assures him. "Just fill out this form, here." She hands him the sheet. "And I'll assign a number to you and give you a card, and . . ." It only takes a few minutes. Soon he has his brand new library card and two books in hand.
"Thanks for everything . . . ?"
"Vera," she supplies.
"Thanks for everything, Vera," he says, smiling. "I'll let you know how I like it." He nods at Crime and Punishment.
"Please do," she tells him. "It was nice to meet you -" She glances at the form he just filled out. "- Logan," she says. "Have a good day."
"You know," he replies, "I think I just might." There's a bright look in his eyes, and for a moment she thinks again that maybe - "It was nice to meet you, too." He leaves.
And Vera really does hope Logan comes back again.
iv. 2019. March 15th. 4:22 pm.
Keith sat outside the hospital on one of the benches, his head tilted back to touch the brick wall. He spent most of his time in the hospital these days; he had for weeks. But it hadn't gotten any easier. It had become routine, but it hadn't come anywhere close to easy.
The coffee in his hand was from the hospital, and he didn't think it all that horrible. He should know, too. He drank it three times a day.
He liked sitting outside the hospital. He could be in the sun, away from the sterile, white walls and floor and rooms, from the doctors and nurses who all meant well but who could only do so much, away from what he was slowly losing the strength to handle, but no one would bother him. Sitting outside the hospital, those going in and out understand, even if they didn't know, and they left him be.
Keith had never liked being left be so much as he did now.
When someone approached him and slowly sank down onto the bench beside him, he knew who it was. There was only one other person who came to the hospital every day, one other person who would know exactly where Keith was and would have no hesitation in joining him. "Morning, Logan," Keith greeted.
"Morning," Logan replied quietly.
"How are you?"
"Been better."
"And Lilah?"
"Been a lot better. She doesn't understand any of this."
Keith nodded. How could she? He barely understand it all. "It'll get better," he said. It was something of his tag line these days, and it came out automatically. "Dr. Reed said she remembered a few things from yesterday. That's good. She's remembering." He tried to cling to that idea, to that hope.
"No," Logan said, "she's not."
Keith looked over at him, but Logan didn't meet his gaze. The boy leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and stared out into the parking lot. Keith knew he wasn't seeing asphalt or cars.
"She's starting to remember what you've told her. She's starting to remember that her name is Veronica Mars and she's your daughter, but she's not remembering being Veronica Mars or being your daughter. She's not remembering what happened before. She's not remembering who she is. Only who she's supposed to be." His voice sounded kind of hollow.
"That's progress," Keith said. It was, wasn't it? The doctors said as much. "And, honestly? If she never remembers who she was, that's okay. I'll help her. And as long as she has the ability to make new memories, it'll be okay."
"That's just it," Logan said. "I . . . ah, Mac and Wallace and . . . we've been talking, Keith. Veronica has trouble with all of us. She can't handle the pressure of us visiting every day and expecting her to know who we are."
Keith said nothing.
"Wallace is going to keep coming," Logan said. "He's gonna be the best friend she needs. He'll come and you'll come and that's what she needs. She won't be abandoned."
"But?" Keith asked.
"But Mac and I are going to stop coming. Before you get upset, we're not giving up on her. But the chances of her really remembering who she was . . . they're slim. And right now trying to force it on her is only hurting. So when she gets out of here, when she's able to live again, Mac and I will reintroduce ourselves. Start fresh with her. Maybe that's messed up, maybe that's . . . wrong. But I don't what else to do, and I have to do something, because Lilah can't live like this, and maybe . . . I just think it would work this way."
He finally looked at Keith, and the older man could see the strain in Logan's eyes. "You don't come here for Lilah," he said softly. He knew that. For a while he and Logan had pretended that was why Logan came everyday, but they both knew better.
"No," Logan said. "I come here for me. But now I have to do what's best for Lilah, and for Veronica, and . . . maybe it'll be what's best for me, too." His face was set. There would be no changing his mind.
Keith reached out and rested his hand on Logan's shoulder. "Okay," he said. "Okay."
Logan nodded.
Keith took another sip of his coffee. It had gone cold. He sighed. He drank the rest of it anyway. There were, after all, worse things in this world than cold coffee.
v.
Logan returns to the library four days later. Vera is impressed. "You read it in four days?" she asks.
"I'm a writer," he tells her, "if I want to take four days off of work to read dark Russian thriller novels, nobody complains." He gives her that bright, sly smile, and she finds her insides warm a little.
"A writer?" She's doubly impressed. That's such a romantic career.
"Don't get excited," he says. "I didn't say that I was a good writer."
"Well, did you like it?" she asks. "Crime and Punishment, I mean."
"I did, actually. I like that the guilt was enough to change him. I don't know if that's always how it works, though." He pauses. "I'm generally of the black or white school of thought."
"Nothing's ever black or white," she says. "I think everyone has a little good and a little evil inside."
"Hmm," he says. "Interesting." She feels as if she's missing something, but he only goes on to ask for a recommendation of another great Russian work, and she gives him Fathers and Sons. He checks it out on his library card, and he leaves. She kind of wishes he had dawdled a little.
That night on the phone with her father, Vera thinks about telling him of Logan. She decides not to. The only thing he's really interested in hearing is that Vera has remembered something, and she never does. She'll keep her affection for a man she barely knows to herself, at least for now.
Logan comes again a few days later. He didn't like Fathers and Sons. They talk about it for a little while. He asks her how long she's worked at the library and what her days are like there. "What's it like to be a librarian?" he asks. "Give me all the dirty details." She likes it when there's a teasing tint to his words. He's the first person in her memory who treats her normally, who treats her as if she isn't made of glass.
She gives him another recommendation, he leaves, and she eagerly waits for him to come back.
When he does, he surprises her. "Have you heard of that new pizza place on West Main?" he asks her. She shakes her head. "Great. I'll be the first to take you there. Come on." She tries to protest, but he insists. "You brown bag it every day," he says. "You told me so. Come on. Let me take you to lunch. I promise I don't chew with my mouth open."
So she lets him take her to lunch. It's not like she really has a choice.
He won't tell her the books he's written, because he knows she'll tease him. "I won't!" she swears. But he doesn't budge, and he says she won't be able to find them, because he writes with a pseudonym. They talk about other books some more, and he asks her about television and movies. She doesn't really watch either, she tells him, and he promises to take her to the movies some time.
He doesn't ask about her past at all, and she's unimaginably glad for that. What would she tell him? she doesn't have a past. Her life consists of the last few months. It's nice. He drops her back off at the library afterward, and she's twenty minutes later. But she just can't be bothered to care.
Logan returns two days later. He has tickets to a movie that night. His grin is contagious.
She doesn't know what to wear out, but she convinces herself it is not a date - she barely knows him. They're only friends. Truth be told, she probably can't handle any more than that. In fact, she knows that she can't. She finds a nice blouse to wear, and she tries to make her hair look pretty, and the movie is fun.
She's never been to a movie before. At least, not that she can remember.
They talk about politics and the news a little, and he makes her swear to watch some police drama on television, and he tells jokes about his editor, and he tells her he sometimes thinks about writing a screenplay, and it's fun and easy and nice. Vera really does like him, and she thinks he might be her best friend. She can't tell him that, of course, because that would mean explaining so much - like why she doesn't really have any other friends, like why the man named Wallace isn't her best friend, but Veronica's best friend.
Vera is not Veronica. She's not.
Logan stops coming to the library when he needs to check out a book. Instead, he comes every day, and sometimes he takes her out to lunch, and sometimes they just chat, and Vera likes this new facet of her routine.
When he tells her he's celebrating July 4th at a friend's house, he invites her to come with him. "She won't mind," he promises. Vera isn't sure about going to a stranger's house and having to deal with countless people - she doesn't much like people - but he tells her there will only be three people there, he and she included. "And you'll like Mac," he assures her. "I promise."
She agrees.
She makes a vegan dish and brings a bottle of wine to give to Mac as a thank you for inviting her. She's a little worried that it's inappropriate to bring wine to a July 4th party, but she goes ahead and does it anyway. Mac is nice enough, and she looks more together than Vera's ever felt. "I'm so glad Logan brought you," Mac says. "Two for a party is even too pathetic for me."
When Vera hands her the vegan casserole, Mac is more than a little surprised. "I would never have thought you would . . . you just don't look like someone who goes for vegan dishes. But thank you so much!" She turns away.
Vera looks at Logan, who only shrugs.
The night passes quickly, and Vera loves ever minute of it. It isn't at all uncomfortable, and she decides she likes having friends. They eat dinner, they watch somewhat anti-climactic fireworks in the distance from Mac's balcony, and lastly they watch The Terminator on TV. It's fun. She likes Mac and she likes Logan and there's not much more to it.
vi. 2019. April 27th. 9.56 am.
"And," Keith said, grinning, "I rented The South Park Movie. I know, I know - we should just buy it. But there's something about renting it." She was finally coming home. The hospital had declared her well, had said that though her memories might not have returned, she was more than able to make new memories, and she was otherwise functioning as if nothing had ever happened.
It was really all going to be okay. This morning, this very morning, Keith was signing her out.
"I've never seen it," Veronica told him. She sat on the edge of the bed, wearing the jeans and sweater Keith had brought for her, looking as out of place as she always did these days. It was the way she held herself, he suspected. Her shoulders were hunched in, her balance seemed precarious, she was continually tucking her short hair - it had all been cut off during surgery - behind her ear and nervously fidgeting her foot.
"Oh, well, yes, but trust me - you're gonna love it, honey. It's your favourite."
"You don't know that," she snapped. Her face was pinched, and when she looked at him, Logan's words from a few months ago floated to mind. She knew that she was supposed to be Veronica Mars, that she was supposed to be his daughter, but she didn't remember it. All he was to her was the man who came every day and told her that he was her father.
Keith's grin faded.
She looked away. She took her emotionless, careless eyes and glanced at the far wall. Her foot tapped the ground. Keith didn't know what to do. He never knew what to do anymore. Nurse Chase chose that moment to walk into the small room, her attention on the clipboard in her hands. "Everybody ready?" she asked. She looked up and smiled.
"Yes," Veronica said, standing up and crossing her arms tightly over her chest.
"We're ready," Keith told Nurse Chase. "Packed and all. I've signed pretty much every form in the history of the world."
Nurse Chase chuckled kindly. "I've just got one more for you, Mr. Mars." She held the clipboard out to him. "And then it's home again, home again. Are you excited, Veronica?"
"It's Vera," Veronica corrected. "I go by Vera. It's simpler. I don't like the name Veronica."
"Well, Vera's very pretty," Nurse Chase said, taking the clipboard from Keith. "Now, I'm not going to give you a sermon on taking care of yourself, Vera, mainly because I know Dr. Reed already did, but remember - don't try to put too much strain on yourself right away. Recovery is a process that lasts long after you leave the hospital."
Veronica nodded curtly and Nurse Chase left with a final goodbye. Keith looked at Veronica. She was staring at her feet. Biting back a sigh, he started to leave, knowing she would follow. She was good about that. She knew how to listen to what he or the doctors or the nurses told her and she new how to do it. She knew how to repeat words and memorise facts and follow someone else's lead.
She knew how to follow someone else's lead.
It was so unlike her, so unlike Veronica. But that was why she insisted on being called Vera, wasn't it? Because she wasn't Veronica. She had said it more than once. She wasn't Veronica. She was someone else, and he had to realise that.
Much as he loved her, he doubted he ever would.
vii.
Her father asks her to have dinner at his house often, but Vera usually says no (she's more for monthly dinners while as he's more for, say, nightly dinners). It's always a strained, awkward affair, especially when he invites friends, like Cliff or Wallace or Alicia. She doesn't know these people. She wishes she could have the chance to, but they're too busy telling her all about Veronica.
It kind of makes her hate them.
But she's in such a good mood, she has been a lot lately, so she tells her father on the phone that she would love to come over for dinner on Saturday. It's been over a month since she met Logan, and she's long since realised that she might have those kind of feelings for him. She doesn't know how to say it, of course, and what would come of it?
She really doesn't know that much about him, about his past. All she knows is that his parents are both dead, he doesn't see much of his sister or his brother, and he's a single father. And she's never met his kid, although he's showed her the adorable little girl's picture. And he certainly knows nothing of her past. What can she possibly tell him about it?
Those feelings won't simply go away, however, and maybe she doesn't want them to. She has to have a life, doesn't she?
When she arrives at her father's house, she can't say she's thrilled to see that Wallace is there. She coaches herself to be on her best behaviour as she gives her father a kiss on his cheek. "How are you, honey?" he asks. He never calls her Vera. He doesn't call her Veronica, either, so that's something, but she knows there's a reason he always uses endearments.
"I'm really well, thanks," she says. The small house is familar to her; she lived there for two months before she convinced her father it would be easier on them both for her to have her own place. She thanks the heavens every time she visits her father's apartment that he let her use his old office space - "Back before I was sheriff, I used to be a P.I. You were my assistant. You don't remember? You used to love it. You got a P.I. license, too. It's okay; I'm sure you'll remember soon." - as her own home.
"Hey V," Wallace greets.
"Hi Wallace," she says, smiling politely. He, like her father, has found a convenient way around calling her Vera or Veronica. "How's Stacy?" Stacy is his wife. Vera has only met her a few times. Apparently, Veronica was in the wedding. That means nothing to Vera.
"Pretty good, pretty good," Wallace says, nodding his head. "How's the library?"
"The same as usual," she replies, handing her coat and purse to her father, "which is just the way I like it."
They make small talk for a while, and it isn't too terrible. She almost tells them about Logan and Mac, but she stops herself. For some reason, she wants to keep her new friends to herself. After all, if she starts talking about friends, she'll get to hear a speech about the friends that Veronica had.
It happens later that night. Keith wants to make ice cream sundaes, and Vera fetches the ingredients from the cabinet. "What do you want on yours, Wallace?" she asks.
"Chocolate shell," he replies, "and some cherries. The ice cream kind, not the real kind. And marshmallows!" He's as excited as a little kid. Vera smiles as she pulls everything off the shelves.
"Oh, wait," Keith says, "I was at the grocery store and I got - it's good," he brags, grinning, "and I actually left it in the car. Don't move!" He runs outside.
Vera shakes her head at him. As hard as it is to be around a man who desperately wants her to be somebody she isn't, she finds him kind of endearing despite it all. "Don't skimp on that chocolate shell, now," Wallace tells her, slipping onto one of the stools at the kitchen island.
Vera reaches back to the cabinet for bowls, and when she turns around, she sees it all. It's just suddenly there, as if it had never not been there. "My mom thinks I'm staying at Norman's house."
"Who's Norman?" Vera asks.
Wallace frowns. "What? Norman?"
"Norman is my imaginary, straight-A, Eagle Scout 'mama's boy' friend."
"He sounds boring for an imaginary friend."
"Mom seems to like him."
Vera stares at Wallace, who looks mildly concerned now. Keith comes back into the house. "Twizlers on ice cream!" he says gleefully, holding up the packet of red candy. Vera barely notices him. She's actually remembered something. She doesn't feel any different. She doesn't feel like she really knows Wallace. She doesn't feel like Veronica.
But it's all still there somewhere, isn't it?
"V, you okay?" Wallace asks.
"I - I'm fine," she says, turning away. "I just . . . nothing." She forces a shaky smile.
But neither man lets it go. "Did you remember something?" Wallace presses. There's too much hope in his voice. "Somebody named Norman?"
And Vera can't help herself. "Your imaginary friend," she says. "Straight A, Eagle Scout . . . your mom likes him because . . . because she doesn't like me." It's all there. That one moment, the sights, the sounds, the feelings, the reasons. But it's only one minute in time.
"Yeah," Wallace says, "yeah, I remember that! And my mom totally came around, but . . . yeah!"
"Oh, sweetheart, this is great," Keith says, pulling Vera into a hug. "We definitely deserve these sundaes now, don't we?" There are actual tears in his eyes.
And this is too much for Vera. How much will their expectations soar after this? She can't handle that. She's only just now become comfortable in her own skin. "It's nothing, really," she insists. "It doesn't even mean anything."
"But it's something!" Wallace declares.
"I . . . I actually, you can stop making my sundae, Dad. I have to go. I - I have a dentist appointment tomorrow, I have to be up early, and . . . I'm sorry." She doesn't really have an appointment, but it's the best excuse she can make at that moment. "This was really nice. I'll see you later."
She's already grabbing her coat from the coat hanger. "Wait, honey," Keith says, his eyes wide and wounded. Vera stubbornly pushes down her guilt. They do this to themselves, really.
"You can stay another half hour, can't you?" Wallace asks.
"I really can't, I'm sorry," she insists. She grabs her purse.
"Veronica, if this is about -"
"It's Vera," she cuts in. "I'm not Veronica."
She shuts the door firmly behind her, and they don't try to stop her.
viii. 2019. April 30th. 2.31 pm.
Vera walked Keith's pitbull along the beach. He told her she used to love walking their old dog along the beach. This is a different dog, he said. Backup died years ago, but she loved this sweet girl just as much.
Vera didn't listen too much. She didn't know this dog, and she didn't know Backup, and hearing her father tell her over and over how much Veronica had loved this dog and loved Backup and loved walking along Dog Beach was a waste of her time.
Still, it was nice to get out of the house. Nobody on the beach tried to talk to her, and the breeze was pleasant, and Vera didn't mind being by herself. In fact, it was probably how she liked it best these days.
"Veronica!"
Oh, please no, Vera thought. Maybe it was another Veronica. Maybe if she simply didn't respond, nothing would come of it.
"Hey! Veronica! Wait a minute!"
The man who fell suddenly in step with her was panting a little but he smiled brightly. "Didn't you hear me?" he asked. He had light brown hair and he looked about her age. She probably knew him from school, and he would have no idea what had happened to her, that she wasn't Veronica, and she would have to try to explain it all.
"Sorry," she said. "I was . . . in another world." She gave a tight smile.
"It's cool. So, how are you? I haven't seen you since. . . ."
She shrugged.
"You're mad, aren't you? Yes. You're mad." He swooped suddenly in front of her, and she was forced to stop walking. The dog tugged on her leash, but Vera merely tugged back and avoided looking at the man. "It's not my fault," he said. "It was so hard to come in and see you like that, and then your dad said that I couldn't any more, and nobody even told me you were out."
"Out?" Vera echoed.
"Of the hospital. That's so great, Veronica. Are you staying with your dad?"
So he knew. But he didn't understand. "I go by Vera now," she replied.
"Vera? Um, okay, that's cool. Kind of rocker chick, I like it." He paused, as if wanting her to say more, but she did no such thing. "How long have you been back home?"
"A few days," she answered.
"Um, how's Lilah? She never much liked me, but I really miss that little squirt." He laughed awkwardly. "I - I miss you, too." His voice went soft. "Look, I don't know what your dad told you, and believe me, I wish I could have done things differently, but I -"
"Who's Lilah?" Vera asks.
His eyebrows fly up. "You don't know?"
She hates it when people ask that question. She lost her memory. How is that a hard concept to grasp? "Honestly?" Vera says, losing her temper. "No, I don't. I don't know who she is and I don't know who you are. I don't know who anybody is. I had my head bashed in. If you went to the hospital, shouldn't you know that?" She glares at him.
He looks like somebody stole his lunch money. "I thought you were doing better. . . ."
"I am," she snapped.
"But how can you not . . ." He cleared his throat. "You really don't . . . ? I'm - I'm Piz. Well, it's Stosh, actually. Stosh Piznarski, but I go by Piz. Less of a mouthful, you know. We went to Hearst together. I was Wallace's freshmen roommate. You know who Wallace is, right?"
Vera didn't much care for Piz. "I know him," she said. "Look, Piz, I actually can't really talk right now. I have to be back at the house. I'm sorry. I'll see you later." She turned away to walk back to her car, dragging the pitbull with her.
"Wait, Veronica, wait!" he said. "Do you really not remember anything? We've known each other for years. We were - we were engaged. We were supposed to get married." He spoke as if the words held some power.
She looked at him. She felt nothing in seeing his face: no memory, no vague recollection, no emotion, no attachment. He was a stranger to her. "I don't know you," she told him. There wasn't much more to say.
"Okay - that's okay," he said hastily, once more blocking her path. "We can start over again. You're all I've ever wanted, Veronica. We can start over again. Make new memories, you know?" He reached out to touch her arm.
She jerked away from him. "I don't think so. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to contact me again."
"But - I mean - I - why?"
"Because I'm not Veronica."
When she returned to the house, she decided not to say anything to her father about Stosh Piznarski. She never heard from him or about him again. And that, at least, was one thing for which to be grateful.
ix.
Vera sits on Mac's couch, her feet pulled under, as she and Mac eat Chinese takeout and Mac rants about her new boss. Mac manages to add a bit of dry humour to everything she says, to every story she tells, and Veronica loves that about her. Mac is good people, and there's something comforting about about being around her.
"So," Mac says, using a fork to stab her chicken, as she long ago declared that she was too tried for chopsticks tonight. "Are you excited for your date with Logan tonight?"
"It's not a date!" Vera protests, feeling her neck warm.
"He's taking you out to dinner and a movie," Mac argues. "That sounds like a date to me."
"We're just spending the evening together as friends," Vera insists. "We've done that plenty of times before."
"And this really isn't any different?"
"It's not."
"Sure."
"It's not!"
Mac pauses, and she tilts her head slightly. "Do you want it to be?"
Vera is about to say that of course she doesn't, but she considers for a moment. "I don't know," she admits. "It's complicated. I really like him, I do. But there's a lot about my - my past that I haven't really explained to you or Logan. And I like my routine."
She really does. She likes waking up at the same time every morning. She likes lots of cream in her coffee. She likes a regimented schedule at the library. She likes falling asleep reading her books in bed. It's not much, but it's the best life Vera could carve out for herself. What would be the risks of seeking more? She's not much of a risk-taker.
"No routine can really last forever," Mac says softly.
Feeling a need to be honest, to say what she's really thinking, Vera tells Mac, a kind of confessional tone to her voice, "I am a little nervous about going out with him. I mean, going out to dinner and a movie, because we're not going out - we're not dating."
Mac tries to bite back a smile, but she isn't entirely successful. Vera decides to pretend that she is. "What are you wearing? Something simple? Something sexy?"
"Simple," Vera says. "Definitely simple. I don't even own anything sexy." She makes a face.
Mac chuckles. "You should at least wear something different. Something new and exciting. It doesn't have to be for him. Just something that makes you feel good, you know?"
"I don't really have time to go shopping," Vera tells her. She eyes Mac. "Could I borrow something from you?" Don't girls do that sort of thing? She wants to have a good girl friend, someone who belongs entirely to Vera, not Veronica.
Mac is surprised. "I don't have anything too great," she says. "I'm not really Ms. Fashion. But if you want, sure. You can go try some things on now if you want. I'll check the brownies." She smiles.
"Thanks so much," Vera says, putting down her carton and standing up.
"The skirts and dresses and in the closet," Mac says. "But never underestimate your ability to glamorise a nice pair of pants, my favourite article of clothing. They're in the dresser by the window." She grins and starts towards the kitchen.
Vera has only been in Mac's bedroom a handful of times. It is as clean but a little untidy as the rest of the house, and it feels so very lived in. She goes for the closet first. Vera went shopping for clothes once, a month out of the hospital, and it was so nice to wear clothing that belonged to her, to Vera, and not to Veronica.
But she doesn't think she'll mind wearing something that belongs to Mac.
She pulls a few dresses off their hangers and tries them on. "How're you doing in there?" Mac calls.
"Fine!" Vera yells back.
She likes the third dress. It's a little long, and she tries to imagine if she has any shoes that could go with it. "Can I borrow some shoes, too?" she shouts to Mac.
"Go wild!" Mac shouts back.
Vera smiles and looks around for shoes. There are some at the bottom of the closet, but they're mostly flip flops and clogs. The shelves at the top of the closet are overfilling with boxes, but she spies silver high heels. Those would be perfect. When she tries to tug them out, however, she ends up bringing three boxes with them. She catches two, but the third falls.
Pictures smear across the ground.
Vera hurriedly shoves the other two boxes back into the closet and then bends down to put the pictures back in the box and return it to its spot. Mac is doing a nice thing for her, and here Vera is making a mess of Mac's things.
Then Vera actually looks at a picture. And she sees herself.
No. She sees Veronica. With long blonde hair and sunglasses, Veronica sticks her tongue out at the camera, an arm around a boy who is clearly Wallace and another arm around a girl who is clearly Mac. Vera chokes on her breath.
She looks at another picture. Veronica's not in it. But she is in a third picture and a fourth and a fifth. Vera doesn't know what to do. Mac does know Veronica. When Logan brought Vera by the house, did Mac simply decide to pretend she didn't? Judging by these pictures, it looks as if Mac was as good a friend to Veronica as Wallace was.
"Found something you like?" Mac yells. "Come show it off!"
Vera doesn't answer, because she's fighting a losing battle with tears.
It isn't just Mac. There's a picture that has Veronica grinning slyly at the camera, and standing right beside her, his arm circling her waist and a smarmy look on his face, is Logan. She's sure of it. Oh, God.
There's a taint suddenly to every single moment Vera shared with Mac and, worse still, with Logan.
"Vera," Mac says, pushing open the bedroom door. "Did you get lost or something?"
Vera glances up from where she kneels on the ground, surrounded by pictures. Her eyes land on Mac, who meets her gaze, a flush of understanding rising in her face. Vera stumbles to her feet. "Vera," Mac murmurs.
"No," Vera says. "Don't."
"Wait, you need to let me explain," Mac protests.
Vera pulls off the dress she's wearing and yanks her jeans on. "There's nothing to explain."
"There's a lot to explain," Mac says.
Vera has to get out of there. She can't cry in front of Mac, she can't, but she's pretty sure she's rapidly losing the willpower not to. She buttons and zips her jeans and then grabs her sweater. "I don't want to hear it," she tells Mac. "I just want to go home. I can't be here. I can't deal with this."
"We thought it would be easier," Mac says.
"You and Logan were both close to Veronica, weren't you? And you pretended not to know me at all!"
"You said you weren't Veronica!" Mac says. "You said you were Vera! And if you wanted to be a new person, then why couldn't we act like we had never met you, like you were a new person to us? You are! And that's how we were treating you! We were trying to do what you wanted."
"It's not that simple," Veronica says. Her sweater is on. A moment later, her flip flops are, too.
"Nobody ever said it was simple. This hasn't been easy for either of us -"
"I didn't ask for you to do this, for you and Logan to - to lie to me." She pushes past Mac and out of the room. She's on her way out of that apartment, and she can't escape fast enough. She sees her purse on the table and she has it in her hands in an instant.
"Don't do this, Vera," Mac says. "Don't just run out. Listen to me."
"Vera or Veronica?" Vera spits.
"I said Vera, didn't I?" Mac asks, and she's angry. "I know you're pissed. I know. And you have a right to be. We did lie, and it we weren't the most model friends to do that to you. But we weren't without reason, and no matter how angry you get, you can't walk out on us. Because you don't know everything."
"I know enough," Veronica says. "This has been a real riot, Mac, but I have to go." She reaches for the door.
"No," Mac says. "You don't know anything, and there's a lot that we've been avoiding telling you, because we thought it would be easier, but clearly it's never going to be easy. You can't ignore your past. What if Veronica had hepatitis? That would affect you, too. You might not remember it, but you still have a past."
"I don't have a past!" Vera tells her. "Can't you see that? Can't you see that I just want to escape Veronica? I'm not her! I don't have her memories! I don't have her personality! I don't have her life! And I'm sick of people wanting me to be her! I thought you and Logan were my friends, I thought you were my friends."
"We are," Mac says softly.
Vera wipes furiously at her eyes. "I don't ever want to see you again - you or Logan."
"You're going to have to," Mac says, her face seeming to set, "because whether you like it or not, you and Veronica have a lot in common, including the same past, and there are things Veronica did, parts of her life, people she knew and who's lives she affected that you can't just run from."
"I can't handle that - this," Vera says."Don't you understand that?"
Mac looks at her with a kind of apology in her eyes, as if she's about to rip off a band aide. "Too bad," she says, "because you're going to have to. Logan isn't just an old friend of Veronica's.
"Logan is your ex-husband, Vera. And, right now, because you can't handle it, he's raising your daughter alone."
x. 2019. June 12th. 8:43 pm.
Keith sat down heavily. He was so exhausted these days. Logan handed him a beer.
"I really shouldn't," he said.
"I'll pay for a cab," Logan offered. "You need it, trust me." He sat down at the kitchen table beside Keith, a beer of his own in hand.
Keith sighed. "Thanks," he said. "Veronica's moving out."
"You're kidding," Logan said.
Keith shook his head. "I wish I was. But it's what she wants. She's been talking about it since the week she first moved in. She needs her space." He laughed bitterly. "I'm sorry. Vera needs her space."
"I'm sorry, man," Logan said.
"Me, too," Keith said. "She's going to live in the old Mars Investigations office. I never had the heart to rent it out, so we're renovating it into an apartment. It's big enough for her, apparently."
"Maybe it'll trigger some memories for her."
"Maybe," Keith said. But he kind of doubted it, and looking at the kid that was once his son-in-law - and should have stayed his son-in-law, as far as Keith was concerned - he knew that Logan kind of doubted it, too. "But maybe it'll just be a reason for her to pull further from me and from Wallace and from who she once was."
"One day at a time," Logan said. "Isn't that our motto?"
Keith smiled. "It's been mine for a long time, son." It's quiet. "Where's Lilah?"
"Put her to sleep an hour ago," Logan said. "But if you want to say hi, you can wake her up."
"No, no," Keith said, shaking his head. "Let her sleep. I'll be able to come by a lot more once Veronica's moved out." He paused. "How - how is she?"
"Not great," Logan admits. "She still doesn't get it. I told her that Mommy was sick, and she asked why she can't bring Mommy soup and juice and read to her and make her feel better like Mommy does for her when she's sick." There was bitterness thick in his words. "What am I supposed to say? This isn't in Parenting for Dummies. What do I - how am I supposed to explain it? Sorry, baby, but Mommy doesn't know who you are?"
"I don't know," Keith said, sighing again. "I just don't know. We could try . . . we could try telling Veronica about her."
"Wouldn't she freak out? And how would she treat Lilah? Would it do more harm than good?" It was obvious Logan had thought about it. So had Keith. And neither had any answers. A part of Keith thought it was the best thing to do. Veronica needed to know she had a daughter, and Lilah deserved an explanation. It just wasn't that easy.
It went quiet again. They were one pathetic duo, the two of them, both grown men, sitting in a small kitchen at ten at night, drinking beers and lamenting how hard their lives were. But what were they supposed to do?
"She works at the library, right?" Logan asked.
"Got a job there last month," Keith confirmed. He looked at Logan to see the boy staring down at his bottle.
"I think I'm going to go see her. Introduce myself, you know - do what we talked about. If she gets comfortable with me, comes to trust me, maybe when the time is right, we can explain the truth and . . . and Lilah will get her mom back."
Keith nodded. "Lilah needs a Mom," he said.
"She needs Veronica," Logan said.
We do, too, Keith thought. But Logan already knew that.
To Be Continued VERY soon :)
A/N: This is an idea I've been toying with for a while, and I'm very excited to write it and post it finally. Still to come is -- how/why LoVe fell apart, what actually happened to Veronica, more about the lovely Lilah, and how it all ends up -- stay tuned! :) And please review!
Part 2a.