Fic: Sleeper, I'm Awake (Logan/Veronica) PG-13
Title: Sleeper, I'm Awake (3/4)
Author: nemo_88 but you can call me Nemo
Pairing/Character: Logan/Veroncia, Duncan/Veronica, Wallace, Keith
Word Count: 2388 (this part)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Veronica finds out she’s got Chlamydia a little bit earlier. Set in Season 2, before Donut Run.
Spoilers/Warnings: Angst. Deals with Veronica's rape. Up till 2x22 just to be sure.
Author's Note 1: I don't particularly like Duncan and I'm afraid that might show in my way of dealing with his part of what happened at Shelly’s. I'm not saying that this is what happened, I'm only writing my own story of what they gave us in the series.
Author's Note 2: My Logan knows how to make pancakes (and from that neat stack in 2x22, I'm thinking it's practically canon :P). The recipe in this fic is my own, feel free to try it, but I had some problems converting it to American measures so I can't promise successful result. :P
I'm truly amazed by the wonderful feedback this story has gotten. Thank you so much to everyone who has left a comment! It's so very appreciated. :)
To my beta luxferi: you rock sweetie *hugs*
Part 1 | Part 2
Part 3
She’s not sure she can do it again. She thought she had found closure, and now all that was buried is ripped up again with its roots. She’s not sure she can face them, all those people pretending to be her friends just because she’s got a rich boyfriend again. Not without wondering who, and if they know, all of them, laughing behind her back.
She gets the urge to cut her hair short like she used to have it, but it’s too obvious.
“You need to eat something, Veronica,” Logan murmurs into her hair as they stand on her bedroom floor. His arms have sneaked around her waist loosely and she’s glad; touching him seems like a natural thing right now.
“Logan, I just threw up.”
“Yeah, so?”
She laughs softly. “Fine. But then I demand pancakes.”
“Pancakes it is.”
“Thin ones. With strawberries and cream.”
He detangles himself from her arms and makes a waving gesture with his hand, like the servant to his king. “Your wish is my command.”
They smile at each other nervously before he picks up a lock of her hair and scrutinizes it suspiciously. “You should have a shower. I’ll go get those berries.”
* * *
Pancake is the only dish Logan knows how to make, but he makes it with style. It was his mother who taught him all those times when he was bruised and bloodied and she stayed at home with him and tried to make him feel better. She made the best pancakes. American pancakes with maple syrup. British ones with lemon juice and sugar. French crêpes and his favorites: Scandinavian pancakes with cinnamon and grated apple. He and his mother used to experiment and it brings a smile to his lips, looking back at it.
“I’m going to make Veronica some pancakes,” Logan says as if it’s the most common thing in the world and puts the bag with strawberries he went out and bought on the counter.
“As long as she’s eating, I’m happy,” Keith answers, tiredly. He doesn’t want Logan in their kitchen, or in their apartment, or anywhere near Veronica, but he doesn’t have the heart to throw the boy out after finding Veronica in his arms on their bathroom floor.
Logan rummages through the kitchen utensils, finds a bowl and the spoons and measuring cups he needs. Adds almost one cup of flour to the bowl along with a pinch of salt. Pours the milk; one cup and three fourths, and starts to whip to get rid of the lumps.
He knows the recipe by heart. When he was old enough he made his mother breakfast in bed in return when she had a hangover. She liked the thin European pancakes the best.
Two eggs and then the secret ingredient. Vanilla sugar. Almost one teaspoon.
During the summer he had on more than one occasion made them for Veronica. He used to love watching her eat his pancakes. He really wondered what happened to all of the food she stuffed into her mouth, but was happy as long as she liked them. They used to experiment with toppings too, just like he and his mother.
It’s time for the butter. One to two tablespoons in the frying pan. It melts and he pours it into his mixture.
Keith and Wallace are watching him with mouths agape, but they don’t comment. Keith who was about to say that he doesn’t think they have any instant pancake mix keeps quiet.
The mixture is ready and Logan pours a thin layer onto the bottom of the frying pan. Tilts the pan some to make the mixture spread to the edges. He watches fascinated as the yellow liquid turns solid and uses a spatula to clear the edges before he flips it. The pancake has a nice light brown colour.
He tried to teach Veronica how to flip them but she never succeeded. Her pancakes usually ended up a mushy mess on her spatula or in shreds in the pan. He laughed at her and said something about ‘let us men stick to the cooking, it’s what we do best, anyway’ and she used to punch him lightly in the side.
When Veronica enters the kitchen, it smells of vanilla and she sees Logan at the stove with Wallace peeking over his shoulder. For the first time in what feels like ages she smiles, a real smile and it almost hurts her lips.
“Mm, pancakes,” she hums and sits down at the small kitchen island beside her father.
Logan sends her a shy smile. “I could only find frozen strawberries. I hope it’s okay.”
She nods eagerly and picks one up from the bowl on the table and devours it. Logan has heated up the berries in the microwave and it’s almost warm in her mouth.
They come together at the small kitchen island, it’s crowded, but Veronica wouldn’t have it any other way. She grabs a pancake, loads it with strawberries, mashes them with her fork and adds the cream. She watches how the fluffy cream melts on the hot pancake and uses her fingers to roll it.
Logan watches her eating, amused.
* * *
It’s 4 am when Logan hears the familiar ringing of his cell phone. He wants to put the pillow over his head and forget about it, but when he glances over at the caller id and sees a picture of Veronica from last summer he’s glad he didn’t.
“Yeah?” he groans into the phone.
“Logan.” It’s almost a whimper.
He waits for her to say something more, but she doesn’t. He’s groggy from sleeping and rubs his eyes trying to wake himself up.
“You okay, Veronica?”
A sniffle. “Yeah, ” she whispers.
He understands. “Bad dream.”
“Worst.”
“Wanna tell me about it?” he asks, and then adds quickly, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“I think ’bad’ covered it.”
He chuckles softly. “Okay.”
He waits for her to say something more, but she doesn’t. First, he thinks she has hung up on him, but then he hears the regular sound of her breathing and it calms him down.
They stay like that, phones cradled to their ears for the rest of the night, both clinging to it like a lifeline, comforted by the other’s breathing and neither is sure who falls asleep first.
Logan is the first to wake up. His cell phone is still on his pillow, and he almost pushes it to the floor when he stretches his sleepy limbs. Then he remembers her call from the night before and picks it up to listen.
His voice is hushed when he asks, “Veronica?” He doesn’t want to wake her if she’s asleep but he needs to know if she’s awake.
Silence.
He briefly considers his options before hanging up. And sends her a text message.
‘I didn’t want to wake you.’
* * *
When Keith comes home from work the first thing he sees is Logan in his armchair. Veronica is sitting on the couch and they are watching what looks to be a karate movie from the seventies.
“Hey, honey,” he greets her. Then adds, “Logan.”
A ‘hey, dad’ and a murmured ‘Mr, Mars’ is what he gets in return.
Keith loads the groceries he’s bought on the kitchen island and stays quiet while putting in the dairies in the fridge. He has been hoping to get a chance to talk to Veronica but every time he’s home Logan seems to be with her, following her like a tail, hugging her like a plaster or just being there.
He’s not sure what to make of it.
* * *
“Duncan, can I ask you a question?”
He has come over, probably to make amends but Veronica isn’t very cooperative. They’re sitting on her bed facing one another, and as far as hard relationship talks go, Veronica has been the queen of avoidance.
“Sure,” he says but it’s a little suspicious.
“The night of Shelly’s party, you said you left before I woke up. What time was that?”
He looks at her speechless.
“What’s this about Veronica? I thought you had let that stuff go. We were both wasted, end of story.”
“No. We were both drugged, and it’s not ‘end of story’,” she says impatiently. “Please, just answer the question.“
“Yeah, well, the drugged part is Logan’s fault not mine,” he answers defensively.
“Duncan.”
“I don’t know! It wasn’t like I checked what time it was. Sometime in the moring, around seven or so. It was light outside, anyway. Why are you asking me this?”
Seven. She calculates in her mind, trying to fit the pieces of her puzzle. She got to the police station around eight…
It happened before.
Must have. There wasn’t enough time, right? She woke up just after he left.
She’s not sure what is worst: Duncan leaving her to get raped or Duncan sleeping with her right after she’d been made a rape victim. Both sounds nauseating to her ears and that the last option seems closer to the truth doesn’t please her at all.
“Did something seem off with me?”
“In the morning?”
“No, when you found me in the guest bedroom.”
“Veronica, don’t do this.” He tries to look at her kindly, but it’s clear he’s annoyed. “I don‘t know what you plan on achieving, but there‘s nothing more to say about that night.”
Veronica clenches her teeth, trying to will away the tears that are burning behind her eyelids. “I can’t say I agree with you, Duncan. Just tell me.”
“No. You were fine, a little out of it, but so was I.”
“Did I have…Did you leave my underwear on the floor?”
“What kind of question is that?!” he exclaims.
“Okay, I’ll put it like this: did I have my underwear on when you got into the room?”
There’s tears running down her cheeks now, but she forces herself into continuing. She needs to know, and Duncan was the last person with her that night. Collecting evidence, just like with every other case. She can do this.
“Veronica-”
“Answer!”
“I don’t know! Yes! Of course you had!”
“Did you notice anything off about me?” she repeats, now sobbing.
“Veronica, I’m not going to do this.” He shakes his head at her, tries to stay calm, but he’s almost exploding, Veronica can tell.
“Please, I need to know.”
“No, there wasn’t anything off about you, what more do you want?” he almost shouts, exasperated. He’s tired of being at the end of her accusations, and he doesn’t like where this is going. “I did leave your underwear on the floor. What? You expected me to put them back on?!”
“I’m just trying to understand!” she sobs.
“Understand what?!” He’s standing up, wildly gesturing, anger oozing off him in waves.
“How I could sleep with you after that!”
He takes a moment to calm down, takes a few ragged breaths, trying to understand what she’s telling him. His voice is no longer raised, but cold when he asks her. “After what?”
“After-” she sniffles, takes a few calming lungfulls of air herself and thinks of the best way to drop the bomb. She longs for her bed and the comfort of Logan’s arms, but there‘s no going back now.
“Duncan, I don’t think you took my virginity.”
It’s the best way she can explain it.
“What are you saying?”
“I think…” She swallows. “Someone else slept with me that night. Raped me-“ God, how that word is still hard to get out, “-when I was unconscious.” Her voice cracks, and she sniffles. “And I think, I think he was the one who gave me chlamydia.”
“No.”
It’s cold, his answer. His face is blank, like it was the first months after Lilly’s death and he walked around numb, popped up on anti-depressives.
“What do yo mean, ‘no‘?”
“That’s not- that’s not how it was-”
Of Duncan and Logan’s reactions to her confession she has to say she liked Logan’s better. Being called a liar isn’t something she appreciates, it’s a fucking slap in the face and she considers doing just that to Duncan.
“Well, care to enlighten me then, lover?!”
“You were not-” He’s in denial. Because it can’t be true. It can’t be.
“So the bruises, that was you, then?” Veronica grits out. She knows she sounds accusing and she’s glad.
“What are you talking about?!”
“The bruises, on my thighs? You didn’t see those? Someone had to force my legs apart, are you saying that was you, Duncan?”
“No!” he shouts at her, and he’s crying too now.
“And what about the sperm, was that you or him?” Veronica dries her tears angrily and continues. “I’m guessing it was him cause he gave me a STD, you probably used a condom, but what do I know? Maybe the sperm was from both of you?”
“Stop it!”
“What, Duncan? Too detailed for you?”
“Just shut up!”
His hands are clawing in his hair, he’s rocking back and forth and for a moment Veronica’s afraid he will have one of those seizures. But he calms down, crouches on the floor, head in his palms and he looks defeated.
“I just don’t understand how I could have slept with you when I had been raped just hours -maybe not even that - before.” Veronica says quietly.
“I can’t answer that,” he mumbles.
“But it was consensual, right? I was awake? You just thought I was your sister?”
“Of course it was!” His head shoots up and she’s afraid he will lose his temper again.
“Didn’t I notice? Didn’t I feel that- that someone had-” she tries to collect her thoughts. “If I was sober enough to make love to you, why didn’t I feel someone had violated me?”
Duncan doesn’t answer. He tries to reach for her, but she pushes his hands away.
“I can’t be with you, Duncan. I can’t. Maybe I’m being unfair, but I just… can’t. There are too many question marks, too much that don’t add up.”
He hides his face in his hands and Veronica is sure he’s crying, just like she is.
“I’m sorry,” she says. And this time, she’s the one to leave.
Part 4
Author: nemo_88 but you can call me Nemo
Pairing/Character: Logan/Veroncia, Duncan/Veronica, Wallace, Keith
Word Count: 2388 (this part)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Veronica finds out she’s got Chlamydia a little bit earlier. Set in Season 2, before Donut Run.
Spoilers/Warnings: Angst. Deals with Veronica's rape. Up till 2x22 just to be sure.
Author's Note 1: I don't particularly like Duncan and I'm afraid that might show in my way of dealing with his part of what happened at Shelly’s. I'm not saying that this is what happened, I'm only writing my own story of what they gave us in the series.
Author's Note 2: My Logan knows how to make pancakes (and from that neat stack in 2x22, I'm thinking it's practically canon :P). The recipe in this fic is my own, feel free to try it, but I had some problems converting it to American measures so I can't promise successful result. :P
I'm truly amazed by the wonderful feedback this story has gotten. Thank you so much to everyone who has left a comment! It's so very appreciated. :)
To my beta luxferi: you rock sweetie *hugs*
Part 1 | Part 2
Part 3
She’s not sure she can do it again. She thought she had found closure, and now all that was buried is ripped up again with its roots. She’s not sure she can face them, all those people pretending to be her friends just because she’s got a rich boyfriend again. Not without wondering who, and if they know, all of them, laughing behind her back.
She gets the urge to cut her hair short like she used to have it, but it’s too obvious.
“You need to eat something, Veronica,” Logan murmurs into her hair as they stand on her bedroom floor. His arms have sneaked around her waist loosely and she’s glad; touching him seems like a natural thing right now.
“Logan, I just threw up.”
“Yeah, so?”
She laughs softly. “Fine. But then I demand pancakes.”
“Pancakes it is.”
“Thin ones. With strawberries and cream.”
He detangles himself from her arms and makes a waving gesture with his hand, like the servant to his king. “Your wish is my command.”
They smile at each other nervously before he picks up a lock of her hair and scrutinizes it suspiciously. “You should have a shower. I’ll go get those berries.”
* * *
Pancake is the only dish Logan knows how to make, but he makes it with style. It was his mother who taught him all those times when he was bruised and bloodied and she stayed at home with him and tried to make him feel better. She made the best pancakes. American pancakes with maple syrup. British ones with lemon juice and sugar. French crêpes and his favorites: Scandinavian pancakes with cinnamon and grated apple. He and his mother used to experiment and it brings a smile to his lips, looking back at it.
“I’m going to make Veronica some pancakes,” Logan says as if it’s the most common thing in the world and puts the bag with strawberries he went out and bought on the counter.
“As long as she’s eating, I’m happy,” Keith answers, tiredly. He doesn’t want Logan in their kitchen, or in their apartment, or anywhere near Veronica, but he doesn’t have the heart to throw the boy out after finding Veronica in his arms on their bathroom floor.
Logan rummages through the kitchen utensils, finds a bowl and the spoons and measuring cups he needs. Adds almost one cup of flour to the bowl along with a pinch of salt. Pours the milk; one cup and three fourths, and starts to whip to get rid of the lumps.
He knows the recipe by heart. When he was old enough he made his mother breakfast in bed in return when she had a hangover. She liked the thin European pancakes the best.
Two eggs and then the secret ingredient. Vanilla sugar. Almost one teaspoon.
During the summer he had on more than one occasion made them for Veronica. He used to love watching her eat his pancakes. He really wondered what happened to all of the food she stuffed into her mouth, but was happy as long as she liked them. They used to experiment with toppings too, just like he and his mother.
It’s time for the butter. One to two tablespoons in the frying pan. It melts and he pours it into his mixture.
Keith and Wallace are watching him with mouths agape, but they don’t comment. Keith who was about to say that he doesn’t think they have any instant pancake mix keeps quiet.
The mixture is ready and Logan pours a thin layer onto the bottom of the frying pan. Tilts the pan some to make the mixture spread to the edges. He watches fascinated as the yellow liquid turns solid and uses a spatula to clear the edges before he flips it. The pancake has a nice light brown colour.
He tried to teach Veronica how to flip them but she never succeeded. Her pancakes usually ended up a mushy mess on her spatula or in shreds in the pan. He laughed at her and said something about ‘let us men stick to the cooking, it’s what we do best, anyway’ and she used to punch him lightly in the side.
When Veronica enters the kitchen, it smells of vanilla and she sees Logan at the stove with Wallace peeking over his shoulder. For the first time in what feels like ages she smiles, a real smile and it almost hurts her lips.
“Mm, pancakes,” she hums and sits down at the small kitchen island beside her father.
Logan sends her a shy smile. “I could only find frozen strawberries. I hope it’s okay.”
She nods eagerly and picks one up from the bowl on the table and devours it. Logan has heated up the berries in the microwave and it’s almost warm in her mouth.
They come together at the small kitchen island, it’s crowded, but Veronica wouldn’t have it any other way. She grabs a pancake, loads it with strawberries, mashes them with her fork and adds the cream. She watches how the fluffy cream melts on the hot pancake and uses her fingers to roll it.
Logan watches her eating, amused.
* * *
It’s 4 am when Logan hears the familiar ringing of his cell phone. He wants to put the pillow over his head and forget about it, but when he glances over at the caller id and sees a picture of Veronica from last summer he’s glad he didn’t.
“Yeah?” he groans into the phone.
“Logan.” It’s almost a whimper.
He waits for her to say something more, but she doesn’t. He’s groggy from sleeping and rubs his eyes trying to wake himself up.
“You okay, Veronica?”
A sniffle. “Yeah, ” she whispers.
He understands. “Bad dream.”
“Worst.”
“Wanna tell me about it?” he asks, and then adds quickly, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“I think ’bad’ covered it.”
He chuckles softly. “Okay.”
He waits for her to say something more, but she doesn’t. First, he thinks she has hung up on him, but then he hears the regular sound of her breathing and it calms him down.
They stay like that, phones cradled to their ears for the rest of the night, both clinging to it like a lifeline, comforted by the other’s breathing and neither is sure who falls asleep first.
Logan is the first to wake up. His cell phone is still on his pillow, and he almost pushes it to the floor when he stretches his sleepy limbs. Then he remembers her call from the night before and picks it up to listen.
His voice is hushed when he asks, “Veronica?” He doesn’t want to wake her if she’s asleep but he needs to know if she’s awake.
Silence.
He briefly considers his options before hanging up. And sends her a text message.
‘I didn’t want to wake you.’
* * *
When Keith comes home from work the first thing he sees is Logan in his armchair. Veronica is sitting on the couch and they are watching what looks to be a karate movie from the seventies.
“Hey, honey,” he greets her. Then adds, “Logan.”
A ‘hey, dad’ and a murmured ‘Mr, Mars’ is what he gets in return.
Keith loads the groceries he’s bought on the kitchen island and stays quiet while putting in the dairies in the fridge. He has been hoping to get a chance to talk to Veronica but every time he’s home Logan seems to be with her, following her like a tail, hugging her like a plaster or just being there.
He’s not sure what to make of it.
* * *
“Duncan, can I ask you a question?”
He has come over, probably to make amends but Veronica isn’t very cooperative. They’re sitting on her bed facing one another, and as far as hard relationship talks go, Veronica has been the queen of avoidance.
“Sure,” he says but it’s a little suspicious.
“The night of Shelly’s party, you said you left before I woke up. What time was that?”
He looks at her speechless.
“What’s this about Veronica? I thought you had let that stuff go. We were both wasted, end of story.”
“No. We were both drugged, and it’s not ‘end of story’,” she says impatiently. “Please, just answer the question.“
“Yeah, well, the drugged part is Logan’s fault not mine,” he answers defensively.
“Duncan.”
“I don’t know! It wasn’t like I checked what time it was. Sometime in the moring, around seven or so. It was light outside, anyway. Why are you asking me this?”
Seven. She calculates in her mind, trying to fit the pieces of her puzzle. She got to the police station around eight…
It happened before.
Must have. There wasn’t enough time, right? She woke up just after he left.
She’s not sure what is worst: Duncan leaving her to get raped or Duncan sleeping with her right after she’d been made a rape victim. Both sounds nauseating to her ears and that the last option seems closer to the truth doesn’t please her at all.
“Did something seem off with me?”
“In the morning?”
“No, when you found me in the guest bedroom.”
“Veronica, don’t do this.” He tries to look at her kindly, but it’s clear he’s annoyed. “I don‘t know what you plan on achieving, but there‘s nothing more to say about that night.”
Veronica clenches her teeth, trying to will away the tears that are burning behind her eyelids. “I can’t say I agree with you, Duncan. Just tell me.”
“No. You were fine, a little out of it, but so was I.”
“Did I have…Did you leave my underwear on the floor?”
“What kind of question is that?!” he exclaims.
“Okay, I’ll put it like this: did I have my underwear on when you got into the room?”
There’s tears running down her cheeks now, but she forces herself into continuing. She needs to know, and Duncan was the last person with her that night. Collecting evidence, just like with every other case. She can do this.
“Veronica-”
“Answer!”
“I don’t know! Yes! Of course you had!”
“Did you notice anything off about me?” she repeats, now sobbing.
“Veronica, I’m not going to do this.” He shakes his head at her, tries to stay calm, but he’s almost exploding, Veronica can tell.
“Please, I need to know.”
“No, there wasn’t anything off about you, what more do you want?” he almost shouts, exasperated. He’s tired of being at the end of her accusations, and he doesn’t like where this is going. “I did leave your underwear on the floor. What? You expected me to put them back on?!”
“I’m just trying to understand!” she sobs.
“Understand what?!” He’s standing up, wildly gesturing, anger oozing off him in waves.
“How I could sleep with you after that!”
He takes a moment to calm down, takes a few ragged breaths, trying to understand what she’s telling him. His voice is no longer raised, but cold when he asks her. “After what?”
“After-” she sniffles, takes a few calming lungfulls of air herself and thinks of the best way to drop the bomb. She longs for her bed and the comfort of Logan’s arms, but there‘s no going back now.
“Duncan, I don’t think you took my virginity.”
It’s the best way she can explain it.
“What are you saying?”
“I think…” She swallows. “Someone else slept with me that night. Raped me-“ God, how that word is still hard to get out, “-when I was unconscious.” Her voice cracks, and she sniffles. “And I think, I think he was the one who gave me chlamydia.”
“No.”
It’s cold, his answer. His face is blank, like it was the first months after Lilly’s death and he walked around numb, popped up on anti-depressives.
“What do yo mean, ‘no‘?”
“That’s not- that’s not how it was-”
Of Duncan and Logan’s reactions to her confession she has to say she liked Logan’s better. Being called a liar isn’t something she appreciates, it’s a fucking slap in the face and she considers doing just that to Duncan.
“Well, care to enlighten me then, lover?!”
“You were not-” He’s in denial. Because it can’t be true. It can’t be.
“So the bruises, that was you, then?” Veronica grits out. She knows she sounds accusing and she’s glad.
“What are you talking about?!”
“The bruises, on my thighs? You didn’t see those? Someone had to force my legs apart, are you saying that was you, Duncan?”
“No!” he shouts at her, and he’s crying too now.
“And what about the sperm, was that you or him?” Veronica dries her tears angrily and continues. “I’m guessing it was him cause he gave me a STD, you probably used a condom, but what do I know? Maybe the sperm was from both of you?”
“Stop it!”
“What, Duncan? Too detailed for you?”
“Just shut up!”
His hands are clawing in his hair, he’s rocking back and forth and for a moment Veronica’s afraid he will have one of those seizures. But he calms down, crouches on the floor, head in his palms and he looks defeated.
“I just don’t understand how I could have slept with you when I had been raped just hours -maybe not even that - before.” Veronica says quietly.
“I can’t answer that,” he mumbles.
“But it was consensual, right? I was awake? You just thought I was your sister?”
“Of course it was!” His head shoots up and she’s afraid he will lose his temper again.
“Didn’t I notice? Didn’t I feel that- that someone had-” she tries to collect her thoughts. “If I was sober enough to make love to you, why didn’t I feel someone had violated me?”
Duncan doesn’t answer. He tries to reach for her, but she pushes his hands away.
“I can’t be with you, Duncan. I can’t. Maybe I’m being unfair, but I just… can’t. There are too many question marks, too much that don’t add up.”
He hides his face in his hands and Veronica is sure he’s crying, just like she is.
“I’m sorry,” she says. And this time, she’s the one to leave.
Part 4