Fic - Veronica's Adventures in Law School (WIP 5/?) - R - Rindee
Title: Veronica's Adventures in Law School (WIP 5/?)
Author: Rindee
Pairing: Veronica & Logan.
Additional Characters: Wallace, Keith, Weevil, and others.
Word Count: 8237
Rating: R - primarily for violence & language.
Spoilers/Warnings: Through the end of S2.
Summary: AU future fic set five years after graduation - my take on what would happen if Logan and Veronica actually matured and tried to stay together in a healthy relationship.
A/N: Begun as a one-shot for the vmlyricfic challenge, but I was having so much fun I didn't want to stop, so cross-posted to the loveathons Epic challenge and veronicamarsfic. I recommend you read the chapters 1 - 4 before reading this; it will make more sense, according to my betas. Beta'd by the amazing and wonderful mastermia, who is just so great, and funny too, and the incomparable taken_with_you, who is insightful and patient, even when she thinks there isn't enough smut in the chapter. Special thanks to my girl, rejeneration, who knows my heart and is the best cheerleader Logan anyone could ever ask for. All the mistakes are mine because, occasionally, I'm too stubborn to listen to my betas.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
7:15 p.m.
Apprehensive and troubled, Wallace followed Veronica out the door and onto the small strip of crystalline sand that glittered invitingly but was cold against his bare toes. As Backup galloped into the surf and began to frisk after the waves, Veronica stood silently, her arms wrapped protectively around her waist. He could tell, from the set of her shoulders, that she was disturbed. As he crunched across the beach, she spun to face him, her face revealing a chaotic mix of emotions.
“Wallace - ”
“Veronica - ”
“I know you know someth - ”
“I got something you should - ” Taking a deep breath, Wallace started again, trying to confess. “Listen, Veronica. I gotta tell you something. Logan’s gone after Jason St. Arnold.”
“What are you talking about, Wallace?”
“We found out he’s not who he says he is, and - ”
“Wait.” Veronica uncoiled her arms and held her hands up. “Wallace, what do you mean, Logan’s gone after him? You know where Logan went, where he is, and you didn’t tell me?” Outraged, she stared intently at her best friend, her frosty eyes boring into him.
“Yeah. I mean, no.” Wallace shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know exactly where Logan is, but, Veronica, you gotta listen to me - ”
“You know what? I’m done listening to you, Huggy Bear,” she sarcastically informed him. “You’ve been here for two hours,” with each word Veronica’s voice rose a notch. “For two hours, Wallace, you sat on the couch while I worried, and not once did you bother to mention Logan was out doing something case-related, something dangerous. Logan is, he’s.... Dammit, Wallace, if anything happens to him, I’m holding you responsible.”
As she spoke, Veronica’s cell began to ring. Without looking, Veronica snatched it open. “Logan?” she answered, the barest hint of desperation coloring her voice.
“Hi, Honey. No, it’s Dad.”
“Oh, Dad. Where are you?”
“Logan’s not there with you, Veronica?”
She chewed her lip guiltily, trying to decide whether or not to out Logan. “Um, no, Dad. Logan’s not here. But Wallace is.”
“I thought I told both of you to stay put until I got home?”
“I know, Dad, but - ”
“Listen to me, Veronica. Sam and I are on the plane, ready to take off, and I need to know you’re not going anywhere until we arrive. Okay, Kiddo?”
“Dad?”
“Yes, Veronica?”
“About two hours ago, Logan left to tail Jason St. Arnold, and we haven’t heard from him since.”
“Veronica” Keith sighed heavily across the line. “I want you to promise me you and Wallace won’t leave. We’ll be there in less than two hours, Honey, and we’ll find Logan. So stay put, and don’t worry. He can take care of himself. I’ve got to go now, we’re taxiing. Call Eli. See if he can help. Don’t do anything stupid. I mean it. Bye now.” Before she could say another word, Keith hung up.
Dial tone ringing in her ear, Veronica looked at the phone in disgust, muttering, “I already called him.”
She glanced up. Wallace was eying her suspiciously. “What’d he say, Vee?”
She sighed and snapped her fingers for Backup. As he trotted out and shook off the salt water, she replied, “Oh, you know. The usual. Stay home. Don’t get involved.” She spun and started for the house. “Don’t look for your boyfriend, even though we don’t know where he is or if he’s in trouble. I hate this,” she groused, stomping up the deck stairs.
Trailing a step behind, Wallace began shaking his head vigorously. “Nope. No, Vee. No. You can’t. We can’t. We don’t even know where he is. And you can’t leave. Your Dad’ll kill you.”
Veronica smiled thinly. “I can track him through his phone. It’s just like Dad’s; it’s got a GPS chip.”
“Come on, Vee. You tried and got no answer. What makes you think he’s got his phone on him?”
“If I find his phone, and he’s not with it, he’s in trouble. If I find his phone and he’s with it, at worst, I mess up the case a little. Either way, I’ll know.” Impatiently, Veronica waited for Wallace and Backup to clear the door before slamming and locking it. “C’mon. We’ve got work to do.” She slugged Wallace on the arm and scrambled upstairs to the office.
“Hold up, Vee,” Wallace huffed as he followed her into the office. “If we’re going to do this, and I’m not sayin’ we are, we need a plan.”
Veronica sat in Logan’s chair, and motioned Wallace to hers. She walked him through the GPS tracking software. As Wallace worked, Veronica began rifling through Logan’s desk until she uncovered the file on St. Arnold. She was scanning the notes when she was interrupted by an excited yelp.
“I think I found him, Vee.”
Veronica moved to the screen. After a lengthy pseudo-argument, Wallace conceded they could take a drive and try to pinpoint the signal from Logan’s phone. Mindful of her father’s terse instructions, and aware that neither he nor Logan was going to be happy with her, Veronica left a detailed message on Keith’s voicemail, including the information Logan had learned about St. Arnold, the coordinates for Logan’s cell phone, and the fact that she and Wallace were going to be en route in a matter of minutes.
After asking Wallace to see to Backup and secure the house, she scurried into her closet and changed into dark jeans, a dark green, long-sleeved tee shirt, a black hoodie, thick-soled boots, and a buttery brown leather jacket. As she braided her hair, she heard Wallace lope up the stairs.
“All set,” he announced from the doorway. “We’re taking my ride, right? Cuz yours is a crispy critter, and Logan’s would be kind of conspicuous.”
Veronica examined Wallace’s clothing and realized he was unsuitably attired for the evening’s work. She rummaged through Logan’s shelves until she found a faded, worn pair of gray jeans and a black sweat shirt. Flinging them at Wallace, she told him to go change.
“Veronica. His stuff’s never going to fit me.”
“Just roll up the pants, and wear a belt.” Although Wallace had put on several inches since high school, he was still an inch or two shorter than Logan. Shrugging because he knew it was futile to argue with Veronica when she was on a mission, Wallace undressed in the bathroom.
His face wore a look of surprise when he returned. “Either I’m getting fat or your boy’s skinner than he looks.” Veronica grinned bravely.
“They’re old. Really old. Like from sophomore year. He said they were Lilly’s favorite and he. . . .” She paused and ducked her head, but not before Wallace caught the sheen in her suddenly-glassy eyes. She knelt to lace her boots. When she rose, her face was stern and impassive. Looking at Wallace’s stockinged feet, she arched an eyebrow.
“My kicks are in the car.” Veronica nodded curtly and reentered the walk-in. Wallace heard the snick-click noise of the safe dial. She returned carrying a .38 caliber silver Ruger revolver, and a larger, black semi-automatic pistol.
“Do you know how to use one?” she asked softly, extending the Beretta to him. “I don’t know that we’ll need them.” She took a deep breath, “But better safe than sorry, I think.”
Answering her unspoken question, Wallace reached for the pistol and tucked it in his waistband. “Yeah, Vee. Keith’s taken me and Logan to the range a couple of times.” Veronica’s astonished blink reminded him that, up until a week ago, she’d had no idea Logan had any involvement with Mars Investigations, much less that he knew how to shoot. “He’s gonna be okay,” he quietly added.
Ignoring his comment, she glanced at her watch. “Okay. It’s been two-and-a-half hours since Logan left. I say it’s time we found him.”
“Right behind you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
8:17 p.m.
Logan glared balefully at Weevil and rattled his cuffs. “C’mon, Weevs,” he grumbled. “Take ‘em off. Please.”
Weevil glowered at Logan, flexing and unflexing his fist, as if weighing his options. After a minute, he cursed under his breath, slapped his palm against his collarbone and felt around. Locating a modest gold chain neatly hidden beneath the ostentatious bling that was part of his cover, he fingered it gently and pulled. A small, 14 kt gold-plated cuff key floated at the end of the chain.
Weevil grabbed it, and, without removing it, leaned over to unlock Logan’s right hand. As he straightened to move to the other hand, the key swung free and Logan was able to see a tiny tag with initials on it hanging on the chain. Weevil stood again, and Logan briskly rubbed his wrists together. Without thinking, he reached for the cuff key and read the tag; it said, ‘V to E.’ Logan flushed, caught his breath and shoved his free hand into Weevil’s chest.
“She give that to you?” he growled threateningly.
Eli took a step back, his serene expression concealing his still-simmering anger. “Yeah. What about it?” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall.
“Before or after you fucked her?” Logan lunged for Weevil, but, despite his Echolls’ superior reach, Weevil struck first, grabbing a fistful of Logan’s shirt and effortlessly holding him off.
“You got it wrong, man. It wasn’t like that,” Weevil spit out defiantly.
Logan threw a roundhouse; Weevil easily dodged it, stepped in and crunched his fist into Logan’s bruised ribs. Doubled over and drooling blood, Logan gasped for air. He wobbled crookedly, trying to stay on his feet. Foolishly, he again lurched toward Weevil, trying to steady himself for another punch. Weevil slipped to the side, leaving Logan clutching air.
“Yeah. Well, why don’t you tell me what it was like, then, Eli,” he snarled. “I know you still love her.”
“You’re so fuckin’ stupid up you can’t see what’s right in front of your eyes,” Weevil replied, pushing Logan backward into the chair. “I got a woman, white boy,” he continued angrily, leaning down to peer into Logan’s bloodshot eyes. “If you’d been paying attention at the dojo instead of tryin’ to beat my ass every time we sparred, you’d know you got nothing to worry about.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
8:34 p.m.
“What exit?” Wallace asked as he piloted his jeep down 1-5. Engrossed in a back-and-forth comparison between the hand-held GPS finder and the surface street map, Veronica did not immediately respond.
“What?” She looked up blankly.
“I need to know where I’m gonna get off,” he patiently explained.
“I’m not sure, Wallace. There’s more than one exit that’ll take us through the hood, and I have no idea which one he would’ve taken.”
“Just pick one, then.”
“Okay. That one. There,” she instructed, wrenching Wallace’s right arm, and the steering wheel, in the direction of the exit they’d almost passed. The jeep bounced through the lane and onto the exit. Wallace sucked in his breath but did not protest. Both tensed as they turned off the ramp and silently cruised through the darkened, ominous-looking streets. “Make a right at the light,” she advised tightly, white-knuckling the GPS finder. “Down there. Straight ahead,” she pointed. “Wallace,” she shrilled. “Over there. It looks like Logan’s truck.”
“Got it, Vee.” He reached for her hand. “It’s gonna be okay now.”
Agitated, she shook him off. “I’m fine, Wallace. Just park the car, okay?”
He slid the jeep into a spot just behind the Xterra, but before he’d come to a complete stop, Veronica was out the door and rushing to the yellow beacon. “It’s not locked,” she reported, as Wallace jerked her back by the arm. “What is your problem?”
“Doesn’t it strike you as strange that Logan’s car’s just sittin’ here, unlocked, in this neighborhood?” He stared, trying to understand why, all of the sudden, she’d lost her ordinarily keen self-protective instincts. “It’s not safe, Veronica.”
“Wallace. I’ve already opened the door. If something bad was going to happen, it already would have.” Disregarding his warnings, she returned to her search of the interior. “His phone’s on the floor. And his binocs.” She crawled inside and felt around underneath the seats. “His wallet’s here too, under his seat.” Her head popped up. “What’s around, Wallace? Why was he here?” She swiveled to survey the area.
“Not much, as far as I can see.” Involuntarily, Wallace’s hand slipped into his pocket and he fingered the gun innocuously residing there. His eyes dropped to the street. “Veronica!”
“What?”
“C’mere a sec.”
She dropped out of the truck. “Yeah?”
Wallace nodded at a smooshed imprint in the dirt. “Think it means anything, Ms. PI?”
Veronica shrugged. “Do I look like Gil Grissom? I have no idea; but I am worried about the fact that his precious Xterra’s unlocked,” she leaned back inside, “and his keys are in the ignition.” She removed the keys, slammed the door before locking the vehicle and sticking the keys in her pocket. “Wherever he is, he either didn’t go willingly or was in an incredible hurry,” she offered grimly. “Let’s look around.”
“There’s a couple of warehouses over there.”
“Yeah, I see ‘em. And there’re lights in that one.”
She looked around. The combined glow of the moon and the street lights was bright enough to allow her to see an endless parade of warehouses; in front of them were rows and rows of hulking metal containers, their gray, blue and red paint scarred and corroded from many trips to and from foreign ports. The soft slap of water blended with the deep bellow of ships leaving and entering the harbor. Everything seemed peaceful, calm, and safe, but Logan was somewhere nearby, likely in one of the numerous cavernous buildings. Veronica wasn’t going to be content until she found him. They looked at each other. Wallace could see Veronica’s body vibrate with tension, and the need to do something.
“Wanna check it out?”he asked, not quite believing he was suggesting they aim straight for trouble.
“Yeah,” she nodded curtly. They began to walk toward the nearest building, taking care to stay in the shadows and away from street lights. As they slipped into the darkness at the side of the building, Veronica raised her hand. “Voices,” she noted cautiously. Using hand gestures, she indicated she wanted to navigate the perimeter. They sidled down the longest wall, pausing every few steps to listen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Weevil was slinging and flexing his right hand; with the other, he held Logan by the back of his neck, supporting him as he coughed up blood and phlegm. “I got a girl, Rosario, we’ve been together for a few months now, and things are good. But you’re right, I do love Vee. I love her like Keith does, the same way Wallace does. She’s my blood, mi familia, and I’d do anything for her. Which is more than I can say for you.”
“That’s right. I came to the ‘hood to hang with my peeps. And, oh, yeah, I’m down here for my health.”
“Are you so stupid you don’t know how much that girl loves you? It would kill her if anything happened you.” Weevil was so incensed his voice shook with rage. “She’s the reason I’m risking my ass to save your pasty white one. It ain’t cause you ‘n’ me are buds or anything like that. I’m here because, if I wasn’t, the love of your sorry-ass life would be putting herself on the line.” Weevil smacked Logan on the side of his head. “Yeah, I love Vee, and I got her back. I’ll always have her back. I’m gonna get you outta here because you make her happy, and, one of these days, when you get your head outta your ass and start deserving her, you and Vee are gonna get hitched and make little Echollses.”
Logan started, hazily staring at Weevil in shock. “Whoa. Wait. How’d you go from saving my ‘pasty white ass’ to Veronica having my kids?”
“You fuckhead, didn’ you hear - ” Weevil abruptly stopped, listening to the rumble of the garage doors that signaled the return of the OTNC crew. “Show time, white boy. You better grab your balls, man.” Logan nodded dumbly, his face becoming smooth and impassive. Pulling black leather over his fingers, Weevil grimaced, a ghost of a smile flitting across his face. “Head or gut?” he asked.
“What? Wait!”
Glowering menacingly, Weevil leaned in, his cheek practically brushing Logan’s. “When I hit you. Out there. Head or gut?”
Logan shuddered, waving his hand helplessly. “Whatever, man. Do what you gotta.”
The chatter of approaching voices alerted them. As they listened, Weevil’s name could clearly be heard. Weevil tilted his chin, and Logan resumed his position on the ground, hands behind his back. The snick of the cuffs reminded him of the precariousness of his situation, and his absolute dependence on Weevil. Grabbing the metal links, Weevil heaved, hoisting Logan to his feet.
“Fuck, Weevs,” Logan hissed. “Are you trying to dislocate my shoulder?” A boot to his backside was the only response as Weevil flung open the door, prodding Logan into the open.
“Muevete, pendejo.”
Stumbling and cussing, Logan staggered into the center of the room. Two thugs leaned lazily against a stack of boxes. They motioned for Weevil. Logan wasn’t unfamiliar with being one against the odds, but, usually, he would have at least had his hands free. The sensation of being helplessly handcuffed was new and unpleasant. From behind, Weevil plunged his boot into the back of Logan’s leg, forcing him down. Groaning, Logan dropped to drop to his knees, his head held high from sheer determination.
Spying from the shadows, Veronica gasped and froze. She would have recognized his voice anywhere. Her immediate instinct was blindingly primal; Logan was in trouble and she had to get to him. Knowing exactly what Veronica’s first impulse would be, Wallace yanked her sideways, clapping his hand over her mouth before she could do or say anything. She struggled in his grasp, twisting and turning until, finally, realizing he wasn’t going to let her go, she stopped straining and stood still. Breathing deeply, Wallace stared at Veronica until some semblance of sanity returned to her eyes. Taking his hand off her lips, but keeping his other hand glued to her arm, he dialed his cell and brought it to his mouth. Receiving no answer, he left a hushed, terse message, softly imploring Mr. Mars to hurry.
As he peered over the window ledge and into the room, Wallace could hear Weevil rattling rapidly in Spanish as he explained what he’d ‘learned’ from Logan; he’d been following a dude he thought was having an affair with his fiancee. When one of them questioned Logan’s story, Weevil assured them he had strenuously worked Logan over and had no doubt he’d told the truth. As Weevil continued to jaw with the OTNCers, Veronica tore free from Wallace’s grasp and moved away from the opening, creeping along the outside wall, her destination a smaller door situated near the middle of the building, closer to the action. Wallace had no choice but to follow.
Inside, the two men continued to aggressively voice their suspicions, arguing that Logan had already seen too much to be let go. Shrugging noncommittally, Weevil raised his hands to quell the dispute and stepped in front of Logan, his back to the others. His fist slammed into Logan’s cheek, splattering blood onto the cold concrete.
Although she couldn’t hear the conversation, Veronica heard the sound of Weevil’s punch as it echoed through the space. Inhaling sharply, she reached for the .38 snugged at the small of her back. From her shoulder, Wallace heard the Ruger click as she cocked it. Stunned that Veronica was prepared to use a gun, he corralled a fistful of her shirt and jerked her to the ground. “Vee,” he hissed. “What are you doing? You can’t go in there.”
Crouched beside the door, a single sliver of light illuminated Veronica’s face, but it was enough for Wallace to see the the wild and desperate look in her eyes; he could tell she was on the verge of complete irrationality. “We can’t wait, Wallace. Weevil may have to kill him soon, whether he wants to or not.”
“You crazy, girl. It’s Weevil, Veronica. It’s a show. He’s buying time.”
“I don’t care. I can’t just leave him here.” She stared crazily at Wallace. “You don’t have to come. You can stay here and wait for Dad. I know he’s on the way. He’s got to be, by now.”
Another vicious pop of skin on skin interrupted their conversation, and Veronica flinched violently. “Wallace. I can’t do this. I can’t just sit here. I have to try.”
Just as violently, Wallace shook his head. “You don’t even know how to use that thing - is it even loaded?. And what are you going to do when you get in there? Shoot Weevil? Or one of the other guys?” Wallace tugged the Beretta from his pocket and checked the clip. “It’d be three against one. You can’t beat those odds. At least give me your gun, Vee,” he implored, holding out his hand.
Bypassing at his outstretched hand, Veronica weedled, “I could if you came too.”
Weighing the consequences of going with versus letting her go alone, Wallace sighed heavily. “Okay, girl. What’re we gonna do?”
“I’m gonna take out Weevil while you neutralize the other two.”
“What do you mean, you’re going to take out Weevil?”
“I don’t know exactly; but I’m going to do what I have to do to make him stop hitting Logan.”
“Uh, how?” Wallace asked dubiously. “And, Vee, there’s bound to be more of ‘em around. What are we gonna do if the rest come back?”
“Wallace,” she gritted her teeth. “All we have to do is get in, get Logan, and get out.”
“What about Weevil, Vee?”
“I don’t know, Wallace.” Veronica’s eyes flashed darkly. “What about Weevil? Does it look to you like he’s in danger?”
“Veronica. You sent him in there to help Logan, and - ”
“And does it look like that’s what he’s doing, Wallace? Does it? I’m not even sure he got my messages; for all I know, he could be in business with these guys.” She rocketed up from the ground, her shoulders shaking. “Logan is hurt, Wallace. He’s bleeding.” Veronica’s voice caught, and Wallace could hear the tears he couldn’t quite see. “I have to go get him.” Angrily, Veronica spun on her heel and returned to her post by the door. Motioning with the .38, she directed Wallace to the other side of the entrance so his line of sight was on the two gang-bangers.
Stopping her with a raised hand, Wallace indicated he would go first, to keep the thugs at bay and within his sights. Reaching out, Veronica gently jiggled the door knob. Surprisingly, it gave in her hand. Pulling it toward her, Veronica eased in front of it and flattened it against the wall. Silently, Wallace pointed to a nearby tower of boxes, then stooped and scuttled toward the cover. When he was safely behind them, Veronica followed.
Extending his thumb and two fingers, Wallace’s eyes darted to Veronica. She nodded curtly and he began to count down, lowering his middle and index fingers, and, finally, his thumb. He stood and, cutting through the Spanish chatter, hollered “Everyone stay where you are!”
As all eyes turned toward Wallace, Veronica, catching everyone off-guard, dashed across the 30 feet of empty space between the boxes and Logan. Before Weevil even realized she was there, or what she was going to do, she raised her hand and smashed him across the face with her Ruger. The blow opened a gash on his forehead, dropping him to the floor next to Logan.
The ONTCers made as if to lunge for her, but Veronica whipped around and fired a shot into the ceiling, stopping them in their tracks. “Stay where you are,” Wallace ordered, extending his arms so his weapon was clearly visible. “I got it, Vee,” he instructed, trying to keep her from hurting anyone else. “I got it. Take care a’ your boy, okay.”
Trembling, Veronica took a tentative step toward Logan and began to cry. His beautiful face was bleeding in two places, one eye was puffed and swollen shut, and his hands were still trussed behind his back. Blinking, he cocked his head to see her with his good eye. “Hey, Beautiful,” he murmured. “Miss me?”
“Vee!” Wallace called out with authority. “Get him outta those cuffs, now. We gotta go.”
She shuddered, her head snapping back and forth as she focused on the scene before her. Resolutely, she wiped her eyes. The wheels began to turn as she stepped delicately over Weevil and moved to Logan’s back. Pulling out her massive key ring, she located a cuff key and unlatched the manacles. As she did, she whispered, “Should we take him with us?” Mutely, he signed his approval, rubbing his chafed wrists as he tried, vainly, to stand.
Veronica slung his arm across her shoulder and held him as he wobbled woozily. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe. Ignoring his battered fingers, she pressed the Ruger into his hand and cut her eyes to Weevil, who was now sitting groggily on the floor, fingering the lump left by Veronica. Logan nudged Weevil with a toe and gruffly instructed him to stand up.
“You’re gonna get us outta here, pal,” he added, gesturing for Weevil to shield Veronica. When Weevil failed to quickly comply, Veronica bent and curled her hand around his leather collar and jerked. Hastily, Weevil scrambled to his fee. Logan stuck the gun into his back and prodded, forcing Weevil to walk before them over to where Wallace stood rigidly, scrutinizing the ONTCers as if they were bugs waiting to be squashed.
Silent upuntil that moment, Weevil suddenly decided to act the part, and began to loudly and vehemently insist he wasn’t going anywhere with them. Before Logan could respond, Veronica smacked her hand across the back of Weevil’s bald head, the crack ringing through the darkness. “Callate, vato.”
When they reached Wallace, Logan shoved Veronica behind his back and motioned for Wallace to stay behind Weevil. Shuffling backward, the four moved breathlessly toward the door, praying they could reach it and escape before the rest of the crew returned and drastically altered the odds.
“Wait a minute,” Veronica said just as they achieved their goal. Rolling her eyes, she dangled the cuffs from her hand. “Asshole,” she addressed Weevil. “Go cuff your buddies to that hoist over there. And don’t do anything stupid,” she added, elbowing him for effect.
Glaring in a believable imitation of disbelief, Weevil shook his head and held his hands skyward. “Nah, man, you’re so tough, go cuff ‘em yourself.” Before Veronica could hit him again, Logan stepped between them and plucked the steel from her hand. Jerking his head, he indicated Wallace should accompany Weevil across the room. Slapping the cuffs into Weevil’s palm, he lightly shoved him.
“Don’t even think about trying anything. Even with one eye shut, you’re a big target at this range,” he sneered as Weevil began moving. Gun trained on the two, Wallace followed at Weevil’s heels, walking slightly to the side to ensure Logan had a clear shot should it become necessary.
Shrugging apologetically as he reached them, Weevil clapped the cuffs on one, ran them through the hook dangling from the bottom of the hoist and over the other one’s wrist. “Okay, asshole, back here, nice and easy,” Logan called tersely. “Wallace, check ‘em and make sure they’re fastened.” As Weevil strolled back, Wallace placed the Beretta against the chest of one mope and yanked, causing both men to wince in pain.
“They’re good,” Wallace confirmed, scurrying back hastily. At Logan’s direction, Wallace grabbed Weevil by the back of his neck, and the four immediately retreated through the open doorway, disregarding the shouted curses and threats of the OTNC henchmen. Outside, Logan leaned more heavily against Veronica, gasping as her tiny hands explored his chest and felt for broken bones.
“What the hell - Weevil, what’d you do to him?” she hissed, sotto voce, as she realized her mere touch made Logan cringe.
“Shh,” Logan whispered, his head resting securely on hers. “Later, baby. It wasn’t all him, okay?”
“Are you outta your mind, girl?” Weevil demanded as they carefully moved away. “What the fuck are you doing here? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Him,” he inclined his head toward Logan. “Him I understand. But I thought you had more smarts than that.”
“Listen, guys,” Wallace cut in. “I’m sure y’all have a lot you wanna say to each other, but right now, we should be concentrating on gettin’ outta here.”
“He’s right, Veronica,” Logan croaked hoarsely. “We have to go.”
Just as he spoke, a maroon Crown Vic skidded to a stop 20 feet away. “Veronica!” Keith called frantically as he lurched from the car. “Are you alright?” Ignoring, for the moment, Logan’s plight, Keith gathered Veronica into his arms, patting her on the back to assure himself she was okay.
Before Veronica could answer, two undercover cars, sans sirens, but blue and red grill lights blazing, pulled up and stopped behind Keith’s vehicle. Sam Lawrence, accompanied by a phalanx of officers, got out and swarmed toward the quartet. “Am I glad to see you, Veronica,” he enthused. “You’re alright?”
“I am, Uncle Sam, but my boyfriend’s, pretty hurt.”
Upon hearing her, Keith broke away and studied Logan. “I’m sorry, Logan. I didn’t realize....”
“It’s fine, Keith,” Logan weakly waved his free hand. Still clutching his other around her neck, Veronica brushed her lips across his cheek and snuggled Logan’s body closer to hers. “Dad. There’s two gang members inside, but I don’t know what they’re up to. You’ll need to talk to Weevil before you can arrest them.”
As Veronica, Keith, and Logan glanced around for Weevil, they realized he’d been surrounded by the officers. “Ah, guys? Sam,” Keith called out softly. “He’s okay. He’s with us.” Arching his eyebrows dubiously, Sam Lawrence turned to Keith. “He’s one of ours,” Keith explained in a low voice. “He’s what you might call my covert operative.”
Nodding thoughtfully, Sam instructed his men to put Weevil in the back of one car, making sure it appeared as though Weevil was being detained. As Weevil rapidly began filling them in on what he’d learned, Sam began barking orders to his team to surround the premises and arrest the men inside. Simultaneously, Keith began questioning Logan about what he’d seen and heard. As Logan struggled to explain, he began to sway so wildly Veronica had to strain to keep him erect.
“Dad! Can’t this wait? He’s hurt and he needs to go to the hospital.”
Keith peered more closely at Logan’s face and realized it had blanched pure white, his answering smile more of a grimace than a grin. Taking Logan’s free arm and winding it around his shoulder, together, Keith and Veronica assisted Logan to the car. “Call an ambulance, Wallace,” Keith grimly commanded.
“Already on it.”
“Veronica? Can I speak to you for a moment, in private?” Although Keith’s words were not as much a request as an order, Veronica impatiently shook him off.
“Dad. I know what you’re going to say, and I think the lecture can wait, at least until we know Logan’s okay.”
“Veronica,” Keith insisted.
Like a dervish, Veronica whirled on her father and spit out, “Look, Dad, you weren’t there. You didn’t see what happened. I’m . . . I’m not leaving him. I won’t.” As she shook her head furiously, tears streamed down her face and she began to come unglued. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she hung her head. “I know I screwed up, Dad. I know it, but I can’t. . . I just can’t do this right now. . . .”
“Veronica,” Logan’s voice was soft and warm as he beckoned her to him. She glanced at Keith, who shrugged in resignation as she hesitantly stepped to Logan. Tugging her carefully onto his knee, he awkwardly tried a hug, but only succeeding in maneuvering one arm onto her shoulder. “Listen to me,” he began, touching his fingertips to her trembling chin.
He was interrupted by the blare of an ambulance pulling up behind the police vehicles. “Over here,” Wallace shouted, pointing to Logan. Two EMTs ran up, pulling Veronica off Logan’s lap and pushing her away in their haste to get to him. Wallace drew her to his side, calming and restraining her as the medics worked. After assessing the damage, the EMTs insisted it was imperative Logan be transported to the nearest hospital as soon as possible. One glance at Veronica’s ashen, tear-stained face, and Logan flatly refused to ride in the ambulance, calmly insisting he and Veronica could take the Xterra which was, miraculously, still on the street.
As Veronica nodded in agreement, Sam, Wallace, and Keith yelled, “No!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Veronica,” Keith continued. “You can’t drive him - he’s hurt.”
“He doesn’t want to ride in the ambulance,” she persisted doggedly. “I can drive him.”
Keith stared sternly at her. “Logan, you have to go with these men in the ambulance. I - we - can’t take the chance that something bad might happen on the way to the ER.” Stubbornly, Logan shook his head, wincing with every movement. “Veronica,” Keith tried again, almost pleading with his daughter. “He can barely hold his head upright, much less walk. Be reasonable, both of you. Be smart.”
Paying no mind to Sam, the EMTs, or Wallace, the three segued into a heated discussion. Finally, done protesting, Logan caved and agreed to get on the gurney and take a ride in the ambulance, as long as Veronica could accompany him.
“Okay, Dad. It’s settled. I’m going with Logan. Wallace will have to drive the Xterra, or you can. But one of you will have to bring it to the hospital so I can drive him home after they’ve checked him out.”
“Veronica, honey,” Keith said, his patience stretched beyond the breaking point. “They’re not going to let you ride with him; you’re not, technically speaking, family.”
“It’s fine Dad. Logan’s taken care of it,” she brushed him off. Tossing Logan’s keys to Wallace, she clambered into the van and waved jauntily as the doors slammed behind her. Sliding down the bench beside the stretcher, Veronica smoothed shaky fingers across Logan’s mottled cheeks, now ribboned with caked, dried blood. Squinting at her through blurred vision, he reached for her hand.
“Don’t ever do that again, Veronica Mars. My heart can’t take it.” To make his point, he crushed her hand with every ounce of strength remaining in his mangled body.
“Your heart,” she murmured, an unsettled glint in her eyes. “What did you want me to do, Logan? Leave you there? Do you really think I could do that? Besides, I’m furious with you. What the hell did you think you were doing, you son of a bitch? You could have died, Logan, or....”
“You didn’t think you were going to get rid of me that easily, did you, Mars?” he challenged, his raspy voice tinged with satisfaction. “I’m not the only one who runs head first into trouble without thinking - ”
“No. You’re the one with two or three broken ribs, two shattered fingers, a probable concussion, a dislocated shoulder, and assorted cuts and bruises,” she announced, ticking off the list of his injuries with metronomic precision. “You weren’t supposed to leave the house, either. Remember, Logan? So don’t lecture me about putting myself in harm’s way. I had backup.”
“And a gun, Veronica?” he growled. “A gun? In your incapable hands?” Unable to shake his head because of the foam collar, Logan tsked his dissatisfaction. “Now you know I felt all those years, Veronica, watching you fling yourself into dangerous situations, not thinking about anything but your need for action, your need to get the bad guy, or - ”
“Shut up, Logan. When I did it, when I was a P.I., it was all part of the job. It was a job, Logan,” she shouted shrilly. “I wasn’t out there tracking down your skanky girlfriends on a whim, and I wasn’t trying to be a hero.” Disgusted, she snatched her hand from his. “St. Arnold, Logan? Jason St. Arnold? That’s who you had a hard on for, isn’t it? That’s who you followed into the barrio, right?”
“Veronica, you know I promised to save all my hard-ons for you from now on.”
“Listen, mister,” the EMT interrupted. “I realize you and the missus have a lot to talk about, but you’ve got to calm down here. Your blood pressure’s not that great right now. And you, lady,” he glared at Veronica. “You need to fasten your seat belt, and lower your voice.”
“He’s not in danger of dying, is he?” Veronica snapped to the EMT. “If he’s not, mind your own business.”
“Veronica,” Logan dropped his voice. “Calm down, please. We can talk about it later, okay? Christ, I might die, if you keep it up.”
“And you might wish you were dead when you get home tonight.”
“Veronica,” he said softly, solemnly meeting her gaze. “C’mere, please.” Something in his voice sliced through Veronica. Her eyes roamed his body, from his splinted arm and hand, to his blood-streaked face and glassy eyes.
“Oh, Logan,” she groaned, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes brimming. “I’m sorry, Logan. You’re right. I’m . . . we can talk later.” Carefully, gently, she ran her fingers through his hair, and bent to kiss his forehead. “You’re going to be okay, Logan,” she soothed. “I swear.”
In response, Logan shifted restlessly and growled something low and indistinct in her ear. A tiny smile twitched at corners of her mouth. “Now?” she asked dubiously. Logan fluttered his lashes and grinned. Smirking, Veronica sunk to her knees, pressed her cheek against his and gave him a long, slow, open-mouthed kiss. He moaned, although neither could tell if it was pain or pleasure, and clutched her neck with his free hand. Sighing, she laid her arm over his chest and rubbed her fingers over the small patch of visible skin, drawing aimless patterns against his breast bone.
“Ma’am,” the EMT chimed in. “I’m sorry, but you can’t do that. I know he’s your husband and all, but you need to sit back down and leave him alone.” Veronica and Logan frowned in unison, but he released his hold on her, and she slid back onto the bench.
“By the way, he’s not - ”
“Ronica, honey,” Logan shot her a meaningful glance. “The nice man doesn’t need to know you’re planning to divorce me next week. The announcement can wait, don’t you think?” Uncomprehending, she looked at him for a second, then caught on.
“Logan, sweetie,” she cooed in a syrupy sweet voice. “I’m not going to divorce you. I’m going to stay with you forever and make your life a living hell.”
“Forever, Ronnie?” Logan smiled dreamily as he started to fade out. “Promise?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As he pulled under the canopy that protected the entrance of the ER, Wallace could see Veronica inside, wearing out the linoleum in front of the admitting desk, arms crossed, a frown marring her pretty face.
“Hey, Vee,” he called, walking in. “What’s going on? How’s your boy?”
“Oh, he’s fine,” she announced nonchalantly. “They’re splinting his fingers, the gash in his head has been stitched up, or should I say sutured and stapled, and he’s been well medicated. He’s flying high and feeling no pain.”
So what’s the problem? You look kinda upset.”
Turning away, she scrubbed her hands over her face and shook her head. “It’s not Logan, Wallace. It’s me. I made a mistake,” she mumbled.
“Hey, hey,” he grabbed her arm, spinning her to face him. “I know you effed up, but Logan screwed up too. Hell,” Wallace squeaked. “We all did. He’ll get over it, Vee. And so will your dad. You just gotta give ‘em time.”
“No, Wallace,” she rolled her eyes impatiently. “Not that. I know that. This.” Again, Veronica brought her palm to her face. Wallace stared, not understanding. “This,” she pointed to her finger. On it was a gold cigar band. An 18kt gold band in the shape of a cigar ring, with small rubies, emeralds and sapphires making up the insignia on the face of it. “He asked me to marry him, Wallace. In the emergency room. And, apparently, I took total leave of my senses and said ‘yes.’”
“Oh, that,” Wallace snickered, trying to stifle a full-on belly laugh. “I know all about that. Everyone does, ‘cept you. I’m surprised he had it on him, though. And I’m really surprised you said ‘yes’ so fast.”
“Oh my God, Wallace. What am I going to do? I can’t marry Logan, I mean, I care about him, and want to be with him, but marriage?” She studied the floor intently. “He’s not ready, Wallace. He’s so not,” she muttered.
“Are you sure it’s Logan who’s not ready?” Wallace asked evenly. “Because that’s not what I’m hearin’.” As Wallace finished, Veronica’s head whipped up; she narrowed her eyes and scowled.
“Mrs. Echolls?” the nurse behind the counter inquired. “Your husband’s ready to go home. If you’ll just sign these,” she held out a clipboard with a sheaf of papers affixed to it. Unable to help himself, Wallace doubled over, guffawing and choking.
“Oh my God, Vee. Is there something else you want to tell me?” he gasped, his body shaking with laughter. “It looks like you won’t have to worry about a long engagement, girl.”
“Shut up, Fennel,” she hissed. “Logan doesn’t have any other next of kin,” she explained defensively. Wallace unbent, wiping tears from his eyes. “And he wanted me - ”
“ - Girl, you are too much.”
“There you are,” Logan said brightly. “I was beginning to think I was going to have to wheel myself home. Hey, Wallace.”
“I’ll take that,” Wallace offered to the girl as he hurriedly scooted behind to take the handles. Handing the clipboard back to the nurse, Veronica bent to give Logan a peck on the cheek. Dissatisfied with her politically-correct buss, Logan wrapped his good arm around her waist and jerked her onto his lap.
“That’s better,” he chortled gaily. “Home, Jeeves.”
“Logan.” Veronica squirmed, trying to find a place for her hands, her face cherry-red. “Let me go.”
“Did you see it?” Logan tilted his head to look at Wallace, gleefully waggling his eyebrows for emphasis. Momentarily releasing his prize, he raised his hand for Wallace to slap.
“Yeah, man. I saw it. Congrats.”
Veronica continued to struggle as Wallace and Logan chuckled. “Sit still, Mrs. Echolls,” Logan breathed against her neck, “or things will get really interesting in a hurry. Wallace?”
“I’m on it, dude.” Flexing his arms, Wallace pushed the grinning Logan and shame-faced Veronica out of the hospital. “Want me to get the truck?”
“I can get it,” Veronica insisted, securely ensconced on Logan’s lap, her legs dangling helplessly over the arm of the wheelchair.
“I got it.” Wallace scurried into the nearly-deserted parking lot.
“What time is it, wife?” Logan asked, a gleam in his eye.
“It’s twelve-forty-seven am, and I’m not your - ”
Pulling her backward so she rested on the arm of his chair, Logan bent and kissed her longingly. Taken aback, Veronica froze, her eyes searching his. Shuddering, she opened her lips and admitted him, her hands clutching at his shirt as she drank him in. As she pulled closer and deepened the kiss, tiny tears dribbled from the corners of her eyes.
“I’m right here, Veronica,” he comforted, briefly lifting his head as the tips of his fingers whispered across her cheeks, nose, chin, and ears. “I’m fine and I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, descending once more onto her waiting mouth.
The Xterra skidded to a stop in front of them, and Wallace hopped out. “Logan. I have to get up, Logan,” she protested.
He sighed resignedly. “I suppose you do, or we’ll never get home.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She waited until Wallace’s tail lights were no longer visible before putting the car in gear and heading for the highway. Seat reclined until he was nearly prone, Logan shut his eyes, his hand resting lightly on Veronica’s thigh. “Music?” she asked, her voice still tight and tense.
“Mmm. That’d be good,” he slurred, halfway on his way to much-needed sleep. The plaintive, distinctive rasp of Billie Holiday filled the interior. Two stop lights later, just as she spun the wheel and turned onto the on-ramp, his fingers tightened on her leg. “Babe?”
“Yeah, Logan. I’m here.”
“I don’t want a big wedding, do you?” And, when she failed to reply, he continued. “I will if you want to, though. Whatever you want is fine with me.”
He couldn’t see her face, and the inky night concealed her fists throttling the steering wheel. “Go back to sleep, Logan.”
“I wasn’t asleep, ‘Ronica,” he announced clearly. “I was thinking about you becoming Mrs. Logan Echolls - well, marrying me, anyway. I know you’re probably going to want to keep your name, and you know I’m cool with that.”
Veronica heaved a deep breath, her right hand drifting down to cover his. “Do we have to talk about this now?”
Her frigid tone caused Logan to sit up quickly, and he groaned from the effort. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re already having second thoughts?”
“I didn’t say that, Logan. I just said I didn’t want to talk about it right now.”
“Why’d you say ‘yes’ then?” he continued, disregarding her equivocation. “If you don’t intend to marry me, Veronica,” Logan’s voice segued from calm to strident. “You could have just said so. Before you put the ring on.”
“Listen to me, Logan. Once more, you have a concussion, several broken bones, sutures in your hand, head, and face, and your body is purple and blue. And we still don’t know what Jason St. Arnold was doing on the docks in National City, or who he really is, for that matter. I think we have more important things to worry about than when we’re going to get hitched.”
Angrily yanking his hand from underneath hers, Logan anxiously rubbed the back of his head. “O - Kay, Ver-on-i-ca. When would you like to talk about it? Before or after we pick a date? When we book the church? No, wait, I know, after we buy a dress you’re never going to wear. Veronica,” he roared, slamming his fists on the dashboard. “Ow!” he hollered. “Fuck! That hurt.”
“Stop it, Logan! You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“I think it’s been taken care of, thanks,” he muttered, massaging his temples with his palm. “Veronica,” he continued in muted, controlled tone. “What’s wrong with getting married? Why don’t you want to? Is it me?”
“Just stop it, Logan,” she screamed, on the verge of losing it. “I’m trying to drive, and I can’t think straight right now. I need to get you home before you permanently injure yourself.”
“Well, then, stop the car, Veronica. Because I think we need to talk about this right now!” Logan yelled. Impulsively, he reached for the wheel.
“Dammit, Logan, don’t.” Pushing him back into his seat, Veronica hit the brakes and complied with his order, sliding onto the shoulder in a shower of gravel. The second she put the truck in park, while it still rocked, Veronica heedlessly flung the door open and ran to the passenger side, where Logan was struggling to exit. “Logan,” she begged in a tear-choked voice, hands grasping his shoulders as she tried to ease him back into the car. “Please don’t get out. You could hurt yourself, and I don’t - ”
Half-in and half-out of his seat, Logan artlessly gathered her to him, pressing her securely against his chest and holding her there as she broke down. Her breath came in huge hiccuping gulps as she shook under the weight of her fear that she might have lost him and her pain at the damage done to him.
Unable to lift her onto his lap, Logan rocked her up and down, his chin on her shoulder, until her gut-wrenching sobs began to subside. As she sniveled into his chest, he chuckled softly. “Veronica? If you didn’t like my shirt, all you had to do was say so.”
“It’s not the shirt,” she stammered soggily. “It’s you. I hate you, Logan Echolls.”
“I know, but you’re just going to have to put up with me until you find a better husband.”
“I don’t want a better husband,” she whined, muffled in his sweatshirt. “I was so scared, Logan. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared.”
“I know, babe.” He twisted his neck to peer into her watery eyes. “If it makes you feel any better, I was too.”
“I ... I can’t marry you, Logan,” she whimpered, averting her face. “Because what would happen if I did, and then I lost you? I don’t think I could take it. It would hurt too much,” she added in a hushed tone.
“I’m not going anywhere, Veronica,” he promised, his coffee eyes somber and earnest. “I could never leave you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~