Fic: Today's Inspirational Message (Logan) R 2/2
Today's Inspirational Message
By Melissa (dettiot)
Characters: Logan POV; appearances by Weevil, Duncan, Veronica, Lilly, and Trina. Mentions of Veronica/Logan.
Rating: R
Word Count: 4430
Spoilers: 1x22
Summary: One version of Logan's summer.
Many thanks to cindermom for reading this over when I was stuck and helping me figure out how to end the story. Veronica's line about lessons on being a social outcast is all hers.
July 17
You've reached Logan, and here's today's Inspirational Message: You will do foolish things, but do them with enthusiasm.
Colette
In retrospect, it was fitting that their meeting was so anticlimactic. He had been going into the diner, keeping his head down and just thinking about coffee and hash browns. He moved through the narrow entryway, ducking around the jukebox, only to bump into someone. He looked up, and suddenly there wasn't enough air, because he nearly gasped.
Veronica seemed pretty surprised to see him, too. Her mouth had dropped open, then she quickly closed it and took a step back from him.
That step back changed things. She had looked vulnerable, concerned. But that little move away from him made her chin go up, her shoulders stiffen. And Logan hated seeing that, and he hated that it bothered him.
"Well, well, well. Veronica Mars, Girl Detective."
"Logan." Her voice didn't give anything away, and that pissed him off even more.
"So, how's your summer been, V? Solve any cases? Turn in any boyfriends to the police? But then, I bet you've been busy with Duncan, picking up your big storybook romance right where you left off." He leaned against the wall, not caring about the people who stepped around them as they talked. He crossed his arms across his chest, knowing that he looked defensive and not caring about it.
Veronica sighed. "Duncan and I aren't together."
"Oh, that's good. Hate for my best friend to get accused of something he didn't do, based on circumstantial evidence. That's a tough one to bounce back from."
"What do you want me to say, Logan?" she asked, her voice tired. "I could apologize, but you could care less about that. I can't change what I did, and even if I could, I wouldn't, because otherwise, Lilly's killer would still be free."
"My dad, you mean," he said, moving towards her and blocking her against the wall. "I guess I just want you to say . . ." He trailed off, looking over her head for a moment. He didn't know what he wanted from Veronica. It had been easier not to think about her this summer, easier to focus on things that were more clear-cut, like reaching the bottom of as many bottles as he could.
"What, Logan?"
His eyes snapped onto hers, and suddenly he was talking. "Duncan got Weevil to annoy me into getting sober. Wasn't exactly the twelve steps, but still, it's kinda worked. Which is a good thing, because I don't think I'd have gotten past step nine, the whole making amends stage, because it would have meant seeing you. Talking to you, and knowing what you did and how it'll always be between us." He paused, and took a step back, then another. "Not that there was ever really an us."
She didn't say anything; it was like she had turned into a statue. And that pissed him off too. Veronica didn't take anything from anyone. She didn't look like a deer in the headlights. She argued, and fought, and gave people crap.
So he bent down and kissed her. It was tense, with rigid lips and no softness. After only a moment, she pushed him away. Her mouth began moving, probably spewing insults, but he didn't even really hear what she said. Instead, he just waited for her to take a breath and then he smirked at her. "There she is. Was wondering what had happened to you, V."
He turned around and left, before she punched him or he started shaking. Suddenly, it seemed like there must be a bottle somewhere with his name on it.
July 22
You've reached Logan, and here's today's Inspirational Message: Be careful, lest in banishing your demons, you banish the best thing within you.
Nietzsche
He stared into the mirror. He was in his mom's closet, standing in front of the three-way mirrors, looking at his back. Had to give Dad some credit: he'd discovered a way to inflict pain without leaving many scars. For all the punches and the beatings, there were only a few silvery-white lines on his back. A few of his fingers ached on chilly mornings, and whenever he had a cold, his nose became useless. But that's what happens when bones heal a little bit off.
Ever since he had seen Veronica, he had drawn back, trying to ignore the passage of time. He had gotten drunk that night, and woken up the next day with the worst hangover in the world. After that, he didn't touch the stuff again. He didn't go anywhere. Wouldn't see Weevil or Duncan. Ate lots of takeout, worked at beating all his video games. Started smoking, so he wouldn't give in and start drinking. He felt numb, like he was wrapped up in cotton, like a butterfly in a box.
He turned away, picking up his shirt. He walked downstairs, slumping down on the couch and staring up at the mantle. It was full of glass: his father's People's Choice Awards, an American Move Award, and his mother's urn.
Things were changing for him. Who exactly was Logan Echolls anymore? Ever since that moment in the police station, when that prick Lamb had spilled the beans about Veronica, he had wondered. He couldn't say he was Veronica's boyfriend. He didn't want to be Aaron Echolls' son. He was barely Duncan's friend.
He had thought the time after Lilly's death was bad. The sudden change--knowing that he'd never be Lilly's boyfriend ever again--threw him completely. It hurt. And that hurt got channeled into being an asshole, making it easy for people to leave him on his terms. But he'd forgotten why he'd become Logan the Jackass, and that's why he was here now.
Because when you started caring--when you tried to hold on--people passed right through your fingers.
Logan got up and headed around the table to the hall. With four casual flicks of his hand, the mantle was swept clean and glass littered the floor. He felt something stab his bare foot, but he ignored it and just went up to his room to sleep.
July 31
You've reached Logan, and here's today's Inspirational Message: Life is change. Growth is optional. Choose wisely.
Karen Kaiser Clark
"You're being a real asshole."
Logan rolled over and looked at Duncan. "Am I supposed to be surprised by this? I know what I am." He rolled back over and tried to ignore Duncan so he could go back to sleep.
"Do you? Do you know who you are, Logan?"
"What the fuck does it matter, Duncan?" he asked, mumbling into his pillow.
There was a long silence, and he thought Duncan must have left. But then, he heard him speak. "I guess it doesn't matter that much, after all."
The slamming of the door made him start, and he rolled back over. "Huh. Wonder what's bothering him."
He tried to go back to sleep, but for some reason, he just couldn't slip back into unconsciousness. Something about the way Duncan had just left like that . . . it bothered him. The first thing to have bothered him in days. It was annoying, and he didn't like that. So he pulled himself out of bed and stumbled downstairs.
Duncan was standing by the toaster, and he walked past him and opened the fridge. "So you gonna tell me what exactly is up your ass today?" Logan asked, pulling out a carton of orange juice and taking a long drink.
"I talked to Veronica last night."
"And how is Little Miss Detective?" He busied himself putting away the OJ and hopping up on a stool by the kitchen counter.
"She told me she'd seen you. Was a bit confused, what with the insults and then the kissing."
Logan shrugged. "Should have been like deja vu for her. We insult each other, we kiss each other. QED."
"I guess I was thinking that things had changed a bit," Duncan said, taking the Pop Tarts out of the toaster and handing him one.
"Decided it was better to stay with what I'm used to. Change is bad and should be viewed with suspicion," he quipped.
Duncan nodded slowly. He ate the pastry in four large bites, then brushed off his hands. "I'll see you later, then." He started walking towards the door, then turned around and said, "It's too bad. I was enjoying having my best friend back."
He got up so quickly he knocked over his chair as he moved after Duncan. "What the fuck do you want, Duncan? I am so sick of you and your guilt trips--I have plenty to feel guilty about without you trying to make me feel worse so you can feel better. You asshole, you have EVERYTHING!"
Somehow, he'd managed to get his hand around Duncan's throat, his other hand drawn back, ready to throw the punch. A punch that wasn't aimed at Duncan, not really.
"If you want to hit me, do it. Come on. If it'll make you feel better, I want you to do it," Duncan said through clenched teeth.
For a moment, he felt like he was standing outside his body, looking at two strangers, caught in the middle of a violent moment. Then, he was looking at his best friend and wondering what the hell had happened to him. He let go of Duncan and moved away, too ashamed to look at him.
Duncan coughed, then spoke, his voice raspy. "Logan, man, you're slipping away. We thought you were getting it together, but now you're just letting go. Stop being so damn scared. You can't bury yourself away. It won't bring back Lilly. It's not going to change what your father did." He took a big breath. "It's not going to get Veronica back."
Logan turned around, ready to make an appropriately snarky remark about how he didn't want Veronica at all. But suddenly, he found he didn't have the words. He opened and closed his hands a few times, feeling dizzy with emotion. His eyes fell on some strange little knickknack on a side table, something that he had seen every day for years. Before he knew what he was doing, he had thrown it through one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The glass probably made a lot of noise when it fell. But the screams in his head drowned out anything else.
August 6
You've reached Logan, and here's today's Inspirational Message: When one door is shut, another opens.
Miguel de Cervantes
He stared out across the yard, watching the light bounce off the surface of the pool. After a moment, he turned to Weevil and Duncan.
"Aaron's lawyers were here earlier today."
"What'd they say?" asked Weevil, leaning back in his chair.
"They want to sell the house. Need some cash to cover expenses. Looks like I'll be homeless by the end of the month."
"What are you going to do?"
He shrugged. "Not sure. That's another thing the lawyers were talking about. I could get emancipated. I'd get access to the inheritance from my mom, so poof! Not homeless anymore. I suppose I could go live with Trina, if I had to."
"So what do you want to do?" asked Duncan.
Logan picked up his water bottle. "Funny you should ask. Lately, all I've been thinking about is what I want." He looked down at the bottle, absent-mindedly picking off the label. "Remember when you were a kid, and you thought you could get something just by wanting it hard enough?"
Both Duncan and Weevil looked confused, but they nodded. Logan went on. "My mom used to read these stories to me. And there was always this point in the story, where you said to yourself, 'There is no way this guy is going to make it. The witch is gonna eat them, the dragon is gonna kill them, something.' And I'd say that to my mom. And she'd always smile at me, and say, 'Sometimes, Logan, when the Lord closes a door, He opens a window.'" Logan looked up at them, and laughed a little. "I always thought that was stupid. 'Cause you'd think God would have a butler or someone to close the door, rather than having to do it himself. But now I get what she was saying."
"Which was?" Duncan said, his voice quiet.
"You never get exactly what you want. I wanted my mom back, I got Trina. I wanted Lilly back, I got Veronica. I didn't want my dad to be a part of my life, so he got sent to jail for murdering my girlfriend." He tilted the water bottle back up to his lips, then said, "How's that for opening a window?"
"So?" asked Weevil.
"I'm gonna leave."
"You sure about that, Logan?" Duncan asked, leaning forward. "I know things are bad now . . ."
Logan ignored Duncan's question. "I've got an aunt in New York. My mom's sister. She's pretty nice, from what I remember. I called her this morning and asked her if I could come stay with her, and she said yes."
"Seems a bit sudden to me," Weevil commented. "You want to leave with your tail between your legs?"
"I know you're just trying to piss me off, Weevil. I don't care. Like I had a bright and rosy future in Neptune. You thought Veronica was an outcast last year? Just imagine what everyone's gonna do to me."
"Man, you've lived here your whole life."
"So maybe it's time to move," Logan said. "Find a new crowd, forget about Aaron. Be normal."
Duncan and Weevil exchanged looks, before Weevil spoke. "When are you leaving?"
"Gonna fly out in two weeks. Get there in time for school."
"Jesus, Logan. You don't have to do this," Duncan insisted.
"Yeah, I do," Logan said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to get started with packing and figuring out what things to put in storage."
He turned and headed down the hall to the front door, hearing Duncan and Weevil following him. Duncan left without saying anything, only giving him one of those confused looks that made him look like a Golden Retriever. Weevil walked out the door, then turned around and leaned close to Logan.
"Go see her. Tell her you're leaving. Don't be another person to vanish on
her."
Logan stared at him, but Weevil didn't say anything more, merely walked down the driveway and roared away on his motorcycle.
August 12
You've reached Logan, and here's today's Inspirational Message: Courage is the price that Life exacts for granting peace.
Amelia Earhart
He stuck his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight from one foot to another. He didn't really know why he was here, at this door. But then, maybe it was because standing out here symbolized so many decisions he had made. After all, the first time he stood here, he was choosing to believe that his mother wasn't really dead. This time, he chose to believe he would make it through all the turmoil. All the bad decisions and wrong turns. He was almost there, almost ready to put this last year behind him.
Almost.
When she opened the door, she didn't even seem that surprised. He stared at her, really looking at her for the first time in weeks. She looked tired, and a bit sad. He'd expected her to be peaceful and content now that Lilly's real killer had been caught. How had he not noticed last month how drained she looked?
Suddenly, he realized that neither of them had said anything yet. "Um, hey."
"You didn't have to do this. Duncan already told me you're leaving." She stood in the doorway, keeping one hand on the door while her other hand perched on her hip.
"Well, actually, I kinda did have to see you," he said, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. What he should say.
"Yeah? So why are you here?"
"Would you believe me if I said I just found myself on your doorstep?" He couldn't help smirking when she rolled her eyes. "Actually," he said, taking a step forward, "I've been told that I shouldn't slink away without telling you goodbye."
"So someone had to tell you that?" she said crisply. "Funny, I would have thought good manners would be one of those great advantages you got with your upbringing." Immediately, her stoic expression changed to an apologetic one.
He waved an arm in the air, as if to bat away her unspoken apology. "What can I say, my parents were lacking in some areas." She didn't say anything, and he rocked back and forth on his feet. "So can I come in, or do you want me to stand out here?"
"Oh, um--sure, I guess."
He walked in and took a seat at the kitchen counter. She pulled out a stool and sat across from him. "So, off to New York, right?"
He nodded. "Yeah. My aunt's gonna let me use her name, so I won't get bothered too much by the press. At least not at first, I guess."
"When do you leave?"
"In a week."
"So you're okay with going to New York?" she asked.
"Yeah, I am. I mean, it's not like I have much of a choice: my aunt or Trina."
"So you don't care that it seems like you're running away?"
He shrugged. "People will think what they want. But I'll be far, far away."
"Huh."
She seemed way too nonchalent to him. Like she was forming some diabolical plan inside that crafty brain of hers. A plan involving him. And he didn't want that. Really, he didn't. So he relied on the old standby: changing the subject. "Hey, what's with you?"
"What do you mean?" she asked, looking confused.
"I mean, there's zombies who are more lively, V." Her eyes narrowed, but he plowed ahead, glad that the soft look was gone from her face. "You've got huge bags under your eyes, your hair is all ratty . . . what gives? I would have thought that finding Lilly's killer would make for a happy, content Veronica."
"I thought so, too," she said in a quiet little voice. "I knew that it wouldn't make everything better. I hate myself for saying this, but I thought I'd have closure. But I don't."
He took a long look at her. For a few crazy weeks, he had felt like he could almost fall for Veronica Mars. He didn't know if he still felt the same way, but that didn't mean that he wanted to forget the way they'd become . . . well, some kind of friends. He reached over and placed a hand on top of hers. "Are you having nightmares?"
She nodded, not looking up at him. He frowned. "Have you talked to anybody about them?"
She shrugged. "Not exactly."
"That day I kissed you? You wanna know why I did it?"
Veronica pushed her hair out of her eyes. In doing so, her hand slipped away from his. "I'll probably regret this, but why?"
"'Cause even I saw that something was wrong with you. You weren't being Veronica. So I thought kissing you would make you mad."
Her lips quirked. "It did."
"Yeah," he said. "Sorry about that."
A silence fell between them, one that seemed full of unsaid concerns and angry remarks. He rubbed his finger back and forth across the counter and wondered again why he had come to see her tonight.
"I think it's time for tit for tat," she announced in a decided voice. "And before you ask, there will be no determination of who's tat and who's tit."
"Curses, foiled again," he said, shooting a small smile at her. She didn't seem to be in a laughing mood, though: her face remained serious, resolved.
"Why are you leaving?"
He looked at her, knowing his expression must be incredulous. "Did you knock your head at some point recently? I would have thought my father killing Lilly--my ex-girlfriend--is a great reason to leave town."
"That's just the justification. Face it, Logan--you're scared. Last year was a cakewalk compared to what this year's going to be. And you don't want to deal with it, so you're gonna run. Because you were too scared to kill yourself, but you're too scared to live."
Logan stared at her, not believing she was saying this. "Where the hell do you get off saying that? Like you're some expert on me." He got up and started pacing around, trying to burn off some energy instead of throttling her.
"Not on you, not really. Just an expert on hiding," she said, crossing her arms across her chest. "The funny thing is, you think you can hide. You can change your look, get new friends, do new things. But you can't run from yourself."
"Let me guess, the summer's been slow so you've been passing the time with Dr. Phil?" he asked grumpily. "Just tell me what you really think, so I can get the hell out of here." He dropped his head, and braced his arms against the counter. "God, I don't know why I came here tonight," he muttered.
Veronica uncrossed her arms and leaned forward. "You came because you wanted me to convince you to stay."
His head jerked up in surprise, finding her face inches from his. He took a step back.
Oh, Christ. She was right. Their crazy, fucked-up "relationship" had come to this. He wanted her to want him to stay.
He hazily thought that his face was giving away everything he was feeling. And he noticed that she held herself rigid, like she was waiting for an answer, an answer that she wasn't prepared for.
Funny, this was the Veronica he remembered: pushy, no holds barred, and too damn smart for her own good.
"If I wanted you to convince me to stay . . ." he shook his head, confused. "Why the hell would I do that?"
She didn't say anything. He wondered what she was thinking, what she was feeling. He didn't want to look at her. He knew that something was happening here, and he was scared--all right, he could admit it. He was scared of what her answer would be.
When she spoke, his eyes immediately locked onto her face. "Because you want to be yourself again. Just like I want to be me again."
"What, you mean go back to the old days?" he asked.
"No--I don't want to be like we were a year ago, or even three months ago," she said. "I mean, I want to be . . . well, I don't know if happy is possible. But I'd like to be content--satisfied with my life, you know? And I think that's what you want, too."
He sucked in a breath, unsure if he was hearing her right. "So, what? For both of us to be well-adjusted young adults, I'd have to stay?"
She looked at him, and although her face was stoic, he couldn't help thinking that it was just a mask. "Maybe."
A silence fell over the kitchen again, even more tense than before. He kept pacing, trying to get everything straight in his head. It was like a giant puzzle, and he was missing the four corner pieces--he knew what he was looking at, but there was this nagging feeling of something missing. And suddenly, things fell into place.
He quickly crossed over to the counter. "Veronica?" he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her upright.
"Yeah, Logan?" she said, her face confused.
"I've barely left my house all summer--I think this is only the third time I've gone anywhere this summer. And I spent the whole time inside my head, trying to figure out who I was. Because the world was telling me a bunch of different things about me, and I didn't like any of them. So I just wanted to get away. But you've made me change my mind. So you know what I want to say to the world?"
"What?" she asked, her voice a little breathless.
He grinned at her. "Fuck you. I'm staying."
Before she could say anything, he quickly wrapped her in a hug, squeezing her tightly. He felt her wrap her arms around him and hug him back, and it felt good. It wasn't romantic. It was more like two close friends, friends that had shared a life-changing experience and were clinging to each other.
Maybe someday, they could be together. And this time around, they'd know enough to do things differently. Well, except for making out in the girl's bathroom--that was hot, he thought to himself. But for now, he suspected that having Veronica Mars as his friend would be pretty damn good.
After a few moments, they pulled away at the same time. She grinned up at him, through she looked a little teary. "I'm glad, Logan. Really." She made a face. "Although I'm sure I'll regret it at times."
"Oh, come on--you'd miss me if I left," he said with a grin. He leaned against the counter, giving them both some space. "I am, too. Funny, isn't it? I'm condemning myself to a life of teenage hell."
"Luckily for you, I also happen to be an expert on being a social outcast," she quipped.
He smiled at her. "What's your rate for lessons?"
She returned his smile, something that he hadn't seen her do very often in the past year. "Friends get the special rate of nothing down, no monthly payments, and a zero interest rate."
"Damn, V, I'll have to get a loan then--will you take an IOU?"
She laughed, and he laughed too, and it was stupid and not funny at all, but that was all right. He didn't have to be funny all the time, or a jackass, or sweet boyfriend or wounded child.
He could just be himself. No inspirational message needed.
End.
By Melissa (dettiot)
Characters: Logan POV; appearances by Weevil, Duncan, Veronica, Lilly, and Trina. Mentions of Veronica/Logan.
Rating: R
Word Count: 4430
Spoilers: 1x22
Summary: One version of Logan's summer.
Many thanks to cindermom for reading this over when I was stuck and helping me figure out how to end the story. Veronica's line about lessons on being a social outcast is all hers.
July 17
You've reached Logan, and here's today's Inspirational Message: You will do foolish things, but do them with enthusiasm.
Colette
In retrospect, it was fitting that their meeting was so anticlimactic. He had been going into the diner, keeping his head down and just thinking about coffee and hash browns. He moved through the narrow entryway, ducking around the jukebox, only to bump into someone. He looked up, and suddenly there wasn't enough air, because he nearly gasped.
Veronica seemed pretty surprised to see him, too. Her mouth had dropped open, then she quickly closed it and took a step back from him.
That step back changed things. She had looked vulnerable, concerned. But that little move away from him made her chin go up, her shoulders stiffen. And Logan hated seeing that, and he hated that it bothered him.
"Well, well, well. Veronica Mars, Girl Detective."
"Logan." Her voice didn't give anything away, and that pissed him off even more.
"So, how's your summer been, V? Solve any cases? Turn in any boyfriends to the police? But then, I bet you've been busy with Duncan, picking up your big storybook romance right where you left off." He leaned against the wall, not caring about the people who stepped around them as they talked. He crossed his arms across his chest, knowing that he looked defensive and not caring about it.
Veronica sighed. "Duncan and I aren't together."
"Oh, that's good. Hate for my best friend to get accused of something he didn't do, based on circumstantial evidence. That's a tough one to bounce back from."
"What do you want me to say, Logan?" she asked, her voice tired. "I could apologize, but you could care less about that. I can't change what I did, and even if I could, I wouldn't, because otherwise, Lilly's killer would still be free."
"My dad, you mean," he said, moving towards her and blocking her against the wall. "I guess I just want you to say . . ." He trailed off, looking over her head for a moment. He didn't know what he wanted from Veronica. It had been easier not to think about her this summer, easier to focus on things that were more clear-cut, like reaching the bottom of as many bottles as he could.
"What, Logan?"
His eyes snapped onto hers, and suddenly he was talking. "Duncan got Weevil to annoy me into getting sober. Wasn't exactly the twelve steps, but still, it's kinda worked. Which is a good thing, because I don't think I'd have gotten past step nine, the whole making amends stage, because it would have meant seeing you. Talking to you, and knowing what you did and how it'll always be between us." He paused, and took a step back, then another. "Not that there was ever really an us."
She didn't say anything; it was like she had turned into a statue. And that pissed him off too. Veronica didn't take anything from anyone. She didn't look like a deer in the headlights. She argued, and fought, and gave people crap.
So he bent down and kissed her. It was tense, with rigid lips and no softness. After only a moment, she pushed him away. Her mouth began moving, probably spewing insults, but he didn't even really hear what she said. Instead, he just waited for her to take a breath and then he smirked at her. "There she is. Was wondering what had happened to you, V."
He turned around and left, before she punched him or he started shaking. Suddenly, it seemed like there must be a bottle somewhere with his name on it.
July 22
You've reached Logan, and here's today's Inspirational Message: Be careful, lest in banishing your demons, you banish the best thing within you.
Nietzsche
He stared into the mirror. He was in his mom's closet, standing in front of the three-way mirrors, looking at his back. Had to give Dad some credit: he'd discovered a way to inflict pain without leaving many scars. For all the punches and the beatings, there were only a few silvery-white lines on his back. A few of his fingers ached on chilly mornings, and whenever he had a cold, his nose became useless. But that's what happens when bones heal a little bit off.
Ever since he had seen Veronica, he had drawn back, trying to ignore the passage of time. He had gotten drunk that night, and woken up the next day with the worst hangover in the world. After that, he didn't touch the stuff again. He didn't go anywhere. Wouldn't see Weevil or Duncan. Ate lots of takeout, worked at beating all his video games. Started smoking, so he wouldn't give in and start drinking. He felt numb, like he was wrapped up in cotton, like a butterfly in a box.
He turned away, picking up his shirt. He walked downstairs, slumping down on the couch and staring up at the mantle. It was full of glass: his father's People's Choice Awards, an American Move Award, and his mother's urn.
Things were changing for him. Who exactly was Logan Echolls anymore? Ever since that moment in the police station, when that prick Lamb had spilled the beans about Veronica, he had wondered. He couldn't say he was Veronica's boyfriend. He didn't want to be Aaron Echolls' son. He was barely Duncan's friend.
He had thought the time after Lilly's death was bad. The sudden change--knowing that he'd never be Lilly's boyfriend ever again--threw him completely. It hurt. And that hurt got channeled into being an asshole, making it easy for people to leave him on his terms. But he'd forgotten why he'd become Logan the Jackass, and that's why he was here now.
Because when you started caring--when you tried to hold on--people passed right through your fingers.
Logan got up and headed around the table to the hall. With four casual flicks of his hand, the mantle was swept clean and glass littered the floor. He felt something stab his bare foot, but he ignored it and just went up to his room to sleep.
July 31
You've reached Logan, and here's today's Inspirational Message: Life is change. Growth is optional. Choose wisely.
Karen Kaiser Clark
"You're being a real asshole."
Logan rolled over and looked at Duncan. "Am I supposed to be surprised by this? I know what I am." He rolled back over and tried to ignore Duncan so he could go back to sleep.
"Do you? Do you know who you are, Logan?"
"What the fuck does it matter, Duncan?" he asked, mumbling into his pillow.
There was a long silence, and he thought Duncan must have left. But then, he heard him speak. "I guess it doesn't matter that much, after all."
The slamming of the door made him start, and he rolled back over. "Huh. Wonder what's bothering him."
He tried to go back to sleep, but for some reason, he just couldn't slip back into unconsciousness. Something about the way Duncan had just left like that . . . it bothered him. The first thing to have bothered him in days. It was annoying, and he didn't like that. So he pulled himself out of bed and stumbled downstairs.
Duncan was standing by the toaster, and he walked past him and opened the fridge. "So you gonna tell me what exactly is up your ass today?" Logan asked, pulling out a carton of orange juice and taking a long drink.
"I talked to Veronica last night."
"And how is Little Miss Detective?" He busied himself putting away the OJ and hopping up on a stool by the kitchen counter.
"She told me she'd seen you. Was a bit confused, what with the insults and then the kissing."
Logan shrugged. "Should have been like deja vu for her. We insult each other, we kiss each other. QED."
"I guess I was thinking that things had changed a bit," Duncan said, taking the Pop Tarts out of the toaster and handing him one.
"Decided it was better to stay with what I'm used to. Change is bad and should be viewed with suspicion," he quipped.
Duncan nodded slowly. He ate the pastry in four large bites, then brushed off his hands. "I'll see you later, then." He started walking towards the door, then turned around and said, "It's too bad. I was enjoying having my best friend back."
He got up so quickly he knocked over his chair as he moved after Duncan. "What the fuck do you want, Duncan? I am so sick of you and your guilt trips--I have plenty to feel guilty about without you trying to make me feel worse so you can feel better. You asshole, you have EVERYTHING!"
Somehow, he'd managed to get his hand around Duncan's throat, his other hand drawn back, ready to throw the punch. A punch that wasn't aimed at Duncan, not really.
"If you want to hit me, do it. Come on. If it'll make you feel better, I want you to do it," Duncan said through clenched teeth.
For a moment, he felt like he was standing outside his body, looking at two strangers, caught in the middle of a violent moment. Then, he was looking at his best friend and wondering what the hell had happened to him. He let go of Duncan and moved away, too ashamed to look at him.
Duncan coughed, then spoke, his voice raspy. "Logan, man, you're slipping away. We thought you were getting it together, but now you're just letting go. Stop being so damn scared. You can't bury yourself away. It won't bring back Lilly. It's not going to change what your father did." He took a big breath. "It's not going to get Veronica back."
Logan turned around, ready to make an appropriately snarky remark about how he didn't want Veronica at all. But suddenly, he found he didn't have the words. He opened and closed his hands a few times, feeling dizzy with emotion. His eyes fell on some strange little knickknack on a side table, something that he had seen every day for years. Before he knew what he was doing, he had thrown it through one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The glass probably made a lot of noise when it fell. But the screams in his head drowned out anything else.
August 6
You've reached Logan, and here's today's Inspirational Message: When one door is shut, another opens.
Miguel de Cervantes
He stared out across the yard, watching the light bounce off the surface of the pool. After a moment, he turned to Weevil and Duncan.
"Aaron's lawyers were here earlier today."
"What'd they say?" asked Weevil, leaning back in his chair.
"They want to sell the house. Need some cash to cover expenses. Looks like I'll be homeless by the end of the month."
"What are you going to do?"
He shrugged. "Not sure. That's another thing the lawyers were talking about. I could get emancipated. I'd get access to the inheritance from my mom, so poof! Not homeless anymore. I suppose I could go live with Trina, if I had to."
"So what do you want to do?" asked Duncan.
Logan picked up his water bottle. "Funny you should ask. Lately, all I've been thinking about is what I want." He looked down at the bottle, absent-mindedly picking off the label. "Remember when you were a kid, and you thought you could get something just by wanting it hard enough?"
Both Duncan and Weevil looked confused, but they nodded. Logan went on. "My mom used to read these stories to me. And there was always this point in the story, where you said to yourself, 'There is no way this guy is going to make it. The witch is gonna eat them, the dragon is gonna kill them, something.' And I'd say that to my mom. And she'd always smile at me, and say, 'Sometimes, Logan, when the Lord closes a door, He opens a window.'" Logan looked up at them, and laughed a little. "I always thought that was stupid. 'Cause you'd think God would have a butler or someone to close the door, rather than having to do it himself. But now I get what she was saying."
"Which was?" Duncan said, his voice quiet.
"You never get exactly what you want. I wanted my mom back, I got Trina. I wanted Lilly back, I got Veronica. I didn't want my dad to be a part of my life, so he got sent to jail for murdering my girlfriend." He tilted the water bottle back up to his lips, then said, "How's that for opening a window?"
"So?" asked Weevil.
"I'm gonna leave."
"You sure about that, Logan?" Duncan asked, leaning forward. "I know things are bad now . . ."
Logan ignored Duncan's question. "I've got an aunt in New York. My mom's sister. She's pretty nice, from what I remember. I called her this morning and asked her if I could come stay with her, and she said yes."
"Seems a bit sudden to me," Weevil commented. "You want to leave with your tail between your legs?"
"I know you're just trying to piss me off, Weevil. I don't care. Like I had a bright and rosy future in Neptune. You thought Veronica was an outcast last year? Just imagine what everyone's gonna do to me."
"Man, you've lived here your whole life."
"So maybe it's time to move," Logan said. "Find a new crowd, forget about Aaron. Be normal."
Duncan and Weevil exchanged looks, before Weevil spoke. "When are you leaving?"
"Gonna fly out in two weeks. Get there in time for school."
"Jesus, Logan. You don't have to do this," Duncan insisted.
"Yeah, I do," Logan said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to get started with packing and figuring out what things to put in storage."
He turned and headed down the hall to the front door, hearing Duncan and Weevil following him. Duncan left without saying anything, only giving him one of those confused looks that made him look like a Golden Retriever. Weevil walked out the door, then turned around and leaned close to Logan.
"Go see her. Tell her you're leaving. Don't be another person to vanish on
her."
Logan stared at him, but Weevil didn't say anything more, merely walked down the driveway and roared away on his motorcycle.
August 12
You've reached Logan, and here's today's Inspirational Message: Courage is the price that Life exacts for granting peace.
Amelia Earhart
He stuck his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight from one foot to another. He didn't really know why he was here, at this door. But then, maybe it was because standing out here symbolized so many decisions he had made. After all, the first time he stood here, he was choosing to believe that his mother wasn't really dead. This time, he chose to believe he would make it through all the turmoil. All the bad decisions and wrong turns. He was almost there, almost ready to put this last year behind him.
Almost.
When she opened the door, she didn't even seem that surprised. He stared at her, really looking at her for the first time in weeks. She looked tired, and a bit sad. He'd expected her to be peaceful and content now that Lilly's real killer had been caught. How had he not noticed last month how drained she looked?
Suddenly, he realized that neither of them had said anything yet. "Um, hey."
"You didn't have to do this. Duncan already told me you're leaving." She stood in the doorway, keeping one hand on the door while her other hand perched on her hip.
"Well, actually, I kinda did have to see you," he said, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. What he should say.
"Yeah? So why are you here?"
"Would you believe me if I said I just found myself on your doorstep?" He couldn't help smirking when she rolled her eyes. "Actually," he said, taking a step forward, "I've been told that I shouldn't slink away without telling you goodbye."
"So someone had to tell you that?" she said crisply. "Funny, I would have thought good manners would be one of those great advantages you got with your upbringing." Immediately, her stoic expression changed to an apologetic one.
He waved an arm in the air, as if to bat away her unspoken apology. "What can I say, my parents were lacking in some areas." She didn't say anything, and he rocked back and forth on his feet. "So can I come in, or do you want me to stand out here?"
"Oh, um--sure, I guess."
He walked in and took a seat at the kitchen counter. She pulled out a stool and sat across from him. "So, off to New York, right?"
He nodded. "Yeah. My aunt's gonna let me use her name, so I won't get bothered too much by the press. At least not at first, I guess."
"When do you leave?"
"In a week."
"So you're okay with going to New York?" she asked.
"Yeah, I am. I mean, it's not like I have much of a choice: my aunt or Trina."
"So you don't care that it seems like you're running away?"
He shrugged. "People will think what they want. But I'll be far, far away."
"Huh."
She seemed way too nonchalent to him. Like she was forming some diabolical plan inside that crafty brain of hers. A plan involving him. And he didn't want that. Really, he didn't. So he relied on the old standby: changing the subject. "Hey, what's with you?"
"What do you mean?" she asked, looking confused.
"I mean, there's zombies who are more lively, V." Her eyes narrowed, but he plowed ahead, glad that the soft look was gone from her face. "You've got huge bags under your eyes, your hair is all ratty . . . what gives? I would have thought that finding Lilly's killer would make for a happy, content Veronica."
"I thought so, too," she said in a quiet little voice. "I knew that it wouldn't make everything better. I hate myself for saying this, but I thought I'd have closure. But I don't."
He took a long look at her. For a few crazy weeks, he had felt like he could almost fall for Veronica Mars. He didn't know if he still felt the same way, but that didn't mean that he wanted to forget the way they'd become . . . well, some kind of friends. He reached over and placed a hand on top of hers. "Are you having nightmares?"
She nodded, not looking up at him. He frowned. "Have you talked to anybody about them?"
She shrugged. "Not exactly."
"That day I kissed you? You wanna know why I did it?"
Veronica pushed her hair out of her eyes. In doing so, her hand slipped away from his. "I'll probably regret this, but why?"
"'Cause even I saw that something was wrong with you. You weren't being Veronica. So I thought kissing you would make you mad."
Her lips quirked. "It did."
"Yeah," he said. "Sorry about that."
A silence fell between them, one that seemed full of unsaid concerns and angry remarks. He rubbed his finger back and forth across the counter and wondered again why he had come to see her tonight.
"I think it's time for tit for tat," she announced in a decided voice. "And before you ask, there will be no determination of who's tat and who's tit."
"Curses, foiled again," he said, shooting a small smile at her. She didn't seem to be in a laughing mood, though: her face remained serious, resolved.
"Why are you leaving?"
He looked at her, knowing his expression must be incredulous. "Did you knock your head at some point recently? I would have thought my father killing Lilly--my ex-girlfriend--is a great reason to leave town."
"That's just the justification. Face it, Logan--you're scared. Last year was a cakewalk compared to what this year's going to be. And you don't want to deal with it, so you're gonna run. Because you were too scared to kill yourself, but you're too scared to live."
Logan stared at her, not believing she was saying this. "Where the hell do you get off saying that? Like you're some expert on me." He got up and started pacing around, trying to burn off some energy instead of throttling her.
"Not on you, not really. Just an expert on hiding," she said, crossing her arms across her chest. "The funny thing is, you think you can hide. You can change your look, get new friends, do new things. But you can't run from yourself."
"Let me guess, the summer's been slow so you've been passing the time with Dr. Phil?" he asked grumpily. "Just tell me what you really think, so I can get the hell out of here." He dropped his head, and braced his arms against the counter. "God, I don't know why I came here tonight," he muttered.
Veronica uncrossed her arms and leaned forward. "You came because you wanted me to convince you to stay."
His head jerked up in surprise, finding her face inches from his. He took a step back.
Oh, Christ. She was right. Their crazy, fucked-up "relationship" had come to this. He wanted her to want him to stay.
He hazily thought that his face was giving away everything he was feeling. And he noticed that she held herself rigid, like she was waiting for an answer, an answer that she wasn't prepared for.
Funny, this was the Veronica he remembered: pushy, no holds barred, and too damn smart for her own good.
"If I wanted you to convince me to stay . . ." he shook his head, confused. "Why the hell would I do that?"
She didn't say anything. He wondered what she was thinking, what she was feeling. He didn't want to look at her. He knew that something was happening here, and he was scared--all right, he could admit it. He was scared of what her answer would be.
When she spoke, his eyes immediately locked onto her face. "Because you want to be yourself again. Just like I want to be me again."
"What, you mean go back to the old days?" he asked.
"No--I don't want to be like we were a year ago, or even three months ago," she said. "I mean, I want to be . . . well, I don't know if happy is possible. But I'd like to be content--satisfied with my life, you know? And I think that's what you want, too."
He sucked in a breath, unsure if he was hearing her right. "So, what? For both of us to be well-adjusted young adults, I'd have to stay?"
She looked at him, and although her face was stoic, he couldn't help thinking that it was just a mask. "Maybe."
A silence fell over the kitchen again, even more tense than before. He kept pacing, trying to get everything straight in his head. It was like a giant puzzle, and he was missing the four corner pieces--he knew what he was looking at, but there was this nagging feeling of something missing. And suddenly, things fell into place.
He quickly crossed over to the counter. "Veronica?" he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her upright.
"Yeah, Logan?" she said, her face confused.
"I've barely left my house all summer--I think this is only the third time I've gone anywhere this summer. And I spent the whole time inside my head, trying to figure out who I was. Because the world was telling me a bunch of different things about me, and I didn't like any of them. So I just wanted to get away. But you've made me change my mind. So you know what I want to say to the world?"
"What?" she asked, her voice a little breathless.
He grinned at her. "Fuck you. I'm staying."
Before she could say anything, he quickly wrapped her in a hug, squeezing her tightly. He felt her wrap her arms around him and hug him back, and it felt good. It wasn't romantic. It was more like two close friends, friends that had shared a life-changing experience and were clinging to each other.
Maybe someday, they could be together. And this time around, they'd know enough to do things differently. Well, except for making out in the girl's bathroom--that was hot, he thought to himself. But for now, he suspected that having Veronica Mars as his friend would be pretty damn good.
After a few moments, they pulled away at the same time. She grinned up at him, through she looked a little teary. "I'm glad, Logan. Really." She made a face. "Although I'm sure I'll regret it at times."
"Oh, come on--you'd miss me if I left," he said with a grin. He leaned against the counter, giving them both some space. "I am, too. Funny, isn't it? I'm condemning myself to a life of teenage hell."
"Luckily for you, I also happen to be an expert on being a social outcast," she quipped.
He smiled at her. "What's your rate for lessons?"
She returned his smile, something that he hadn't seen her do very often in the past year. "Friends get the special rate of nothing down, no monthly payments, and a zero interest rate."
"Damn, V, I'll have to get a loan then--will you take an IOU?"
She laughed, and he laughed too, and it was stupid and not funny at all, but that was all right. He didn't have to be funny all the time, or a jackass, or sweet boyfriend or wounded child.
He could just be himself. No inspirational message needed.
End.