The Way We Were (2/?) Logan/Veronica; R
TITLE: The Way We Were (2/?)
AUTHOR: Caroline-Shea
CHARACTER: Logan, Veronica, Dick, Wallace, Keith, Mac, OFC
WORD COUNT: 1711 this chapter
RATING: R
SUMMARY: "I don't care about Veronica." In the heat of the moment, it almost feels true. Wallace nods. "I know you don't care about her now. But if you ever did - at all - then I'm asking you to come."
SPOILERS: Entire series, just to be safe.
WARNINGS: Swearing and adult content, including sexuality in later chapters.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing! Nothing, I tell you!
A/N: This story is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own! Sorry it’s kind of a short chapter - I should have a longer one up soon!
The Way We Were - Chapter Two
There is, thinks Logan, an enormous difference between dead and not-dead. This difference, obvious though it may seem, is the key to his entire thought process right about now.
The reason he had panicked - and he is trying to be honest with himself, so he is admitting that yes, he really had panicked - at the news about Veronica was because he had thought she was either already dead or was in imminent danger of dying.
But Wallace had said that she was awake and talking. So whatever may still be wrong with her, he is placing her firmly in the category of not-dead. This means a few things:
It means that Logan can relax slightly; because however pissed he may be at his ex-girlfriend, he has never and will never want her dead. It also means that he can go back to not caring about her with a clear conscience. And last but not least, it means that he has not the slightest fucking clue as to why he is merging off of Interstate 5 toward Exit 17E - Neptune Memorial Hospital.
And as he pulls into the parking lot - this stupid fucking parking lot he has been in and out of more times than any 22-year-old should - he almost drives back out the way he came.
Why is he doing this? Who is he even doing it for? None of Veronica’s friends want to see him. Certainly there is no love lost between himself and Keith Mars. And as for Veronica herself - hell, if she actually had asked for him then she’d either been high on medication or delirious or both.
Actually, he decides, that scenario makes some sense. She had most likely said something about him last night- not being in her right mind, of course. And Wallace, being Wallace, had over-dramatized the situation on the phone. And Logan would show up at Veronica’s room and she would scream at him and kick him out and Wallace would realize his mistake and -
God, the whole thing was almost too predictable. Why even bother going through the motions?
He sighs. Well, his shrink had always said that he and Veronica “had never allowed themselves closure.” Logan had thought that their last fight had been “closure” enough, but Dr. Williston had never seemed to think so. Well, maybe - just maybe - he and Veronica have matured enough that they can have a civilized conversation. Not about their relationship, of course. Please, God, not about their relationship. But he’s coming here, isn’t he? That’s an extension of the olive branch - of sorts. There’s always a chance that she won’t sic hospital security on his ass.
He shakes his head as he unbuckles his seatbelt and hopes that this isn’t as terrible an idea as he thinks it is.
0000
0000
“Name.” The bored-looking receptionist chews on her wad of gum noisily and doesn’t spare Logan a glance.
“Logan Echolls,” he says as quietly as he can manage while still being audible.
Now the receptionist does look up, quirking her right eyebrow and giving Logan a stern once-over.
“Ain’t you that kid that’s related to”-
“Oprah Winfrey?” Logan flutters his eyelashes. “Unfortunately, no, but I’m told the resemblance is striking.”
The receptionist seems unamused. “Patient’s name.”
“Mars,” says Logan. “Veronica Mars.” The name feels unfamiliar to him, as though he hasn’t spoken it aloud in a long time. “I’m on the list.”
She scans her computer for a minute and nods. “Yeah. Room 703. Top floor, second door on the left.”
It hasn’t really hit him until this second. For all the distance he’s tried to put between the two of them, here he is - a mere 15-second elevator ride away from Veronica Mars.
0000
0000
In spite of himself, Logan’s hands are sweating horribly as he steps into the elevator. The only other people in it are a man not too much older than Logan and a young girl, maybe 3, squealing excitedly about getting to “meet her baby brother.”
Logan has forgotten - if indeed, he has ever known - that hospitals can be a source of life and hope and joy for some people.
His first time in a hospital had been when he was six years old. His father had shoved him down the stairs in a fit of rage.
Logan had woken up, confused and scared to find himself in a strange place with white walls and sheets. His mother had been by his side, looking both happy and nervous at the same time.
“Logan, baby. Thank God. Don’t you ever scare your father and I like that again. The stairs are not a jungle gym.” She had reached down to hug him.
“Daddy pushed me.”
Her features had electrified; eyebrows raising, eyes widening, mouth flattening. “No, Logan. You fell. You’re confused because you hit your head.” She turned to the nurse who was straightening Logan’s sheets. “He hit his head,” she explained again, apologetically. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
“Daddy pushed me down the stairs.”
“You fell, Logan. You fell.”
Logan had felt something surge up inside him - something new and frightening. And powerful. He’d narrowed his eyes at his mother and said as calmly as he could:
“Yes. Daddy made me fall.”
She had cried then, the tears welling up in her eyes and spilling soundlessly down her cheeks. And he’d felt guilty and changed his story. Knowing what he knows now, he would have stuck with the truth. Logan doubts those tears had been for him, anyway.
So yeah. Hospitals. Good times. And about to get even better, he thinks mirthlessly as the elevators open onto the seventh floor. He takes a deep, steadying breath and walks out into the hallway.
0000
0000
There’s no one here.
It’s not like Logan expects a welcoming committee, but still. He glances around. No Keith, no Wallace, no Mac. He isn’t sure what to do or where to go. The elevator is at the end of the hallway and Veronica’s room (his heart begins speeding painfully as he notices) is visible from where he is standing. If there is a visitor’s check-in or waiting area, he’ll have to pass her room to get to it.
He walks as quietly as he can to her doorway, and decides to peer in briefly. Maybe someone will be in there with her. At the very least he’ll be able to reassure himself that all her limbs are attached.
He steels himself for the strong possibility that he’ll have his ass handed to him by a pissed off girl-detective and peers into the open room.
Veronica is in there. Logan bites back a cry of dismay at her appearance. She is sitting up in bed, looking in the opposite direction - at a television screen. He can see her profile, though. Angry red weals are splashed on her throat. Her arms are black, blue, yellow, purple - every horrible shade of bruise known to humankind. There is a red mark below her left eye. There is an IV in her arm and there are bandages on both her arms and legs.
He thinks for a minute that she is talking to someone, but he realizes that she is speaking to the television. He listens to the words emanating from the television screen and after about thirty seconds, he recognizes it. The Great Mouse Detective. It had always been Veronica’s favorite movie as a child. Every time she stayed home sick from school, she’d watched it. He’d watched it with her a few times. Veronica is mouthing the words along with the movie and he hears her laugh - God, he’s missed her laugh - at one of her favorite parts. Well, it’s good to know she still laughs sometimes these days.
Logan stands there, unsure of what to do. Wallace had made it sound like there was something seriously wrong with her. And, while she admittedly looks terrible, it doesn’t seem to Logan like there’s any urgent information he needs to be made aware of. She seems to be in fairly good spirits. And they obviously feel comfortable enough to have left her on her own. Come to think of it, maybe he should just go. Seriously - she can’t really have needed him. His continued presence seems pointless. It’ll probably just upset her, and what she needs is rest and relaxation in order to heal.
But his decision is taken away from him. As he shifts his weight from one foot to the next, ready to back away from the door, Veronica turns and sees him.
They lock eyes for an instant that feels like an eternity.
And as Logan opens his mouth to say something - he doesn’t know what - Veronica’s face softens.
Logan’s heart stops beating altogether. He’d know that look anywhere, although it hasn’t been directed at him in three years. It is the look she’d given him every time she’d seen him - back when she’d been his Veronica. Back before he’d spent two years working diligently on removing all traces of her from his life.
“Logan.” Her voice catches. “You’re here.”
Logan has never been more confused in his life. He wills his voice not to shake. “Yeah. I’m here.”
“Are you okay?” she asks him.
“Uh-huh,” he replies mechanically.
She gestures to her wounds. “It’s really not as bad as it looks,” she says, ever the stoic. When Logan doesn’t reply, Veronica continues on: “Dad said that Lamb had you down at the station, and that that’s why you didn’t”- Her voice catches again. “-why you weren’t here. He doesn’t think…I mean, even Lamb can't be moronic enough to think you had anything to do with this, can he?”
The bottom of Logan’s stomach drops out and falls to the floor. “No,” he tells her finally. And truthfully.
Lamb really doesn’t think he has anything to do with this.
Because Sheriff Don Lamb has been dead for the past three years.
AUTHOR: Caroline-Shea
CHARACTER: Logan, Veronica, Dick, Wallace, Keith, Mac, OFC
WORD COUNT: 1711 this chapter
RATING: R
SUMMARY: "I don't care about Veronica." In the heat of the moment, it almost feels true. Wallace nods. "I know you don't care about her now. But if you ever did - at all - then I'm asking you to come."
SPOILERS: Entire series, just to be safe.
WARNINGS: Swearing and adult content, including sexuality in later chapters.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing! Nothing, I tell you!
A/N: This story is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own! Sorry it’s kind of a short chapter - I should have a longer one up soon!
The Way We Were - Chapter Two
There is, thinks Logan, an enormous difference between dead and not-dead. This difference, obvious though it may seem, is the key to his entire thought process right about now.
The reason he had panicked - and he is trying to be honest with himself, so he is admitting that yes, he really had panicked - at the news about Veronica was because he had thought she was either already dead or was in imminent danger of dying.
But Wallace had said that she was awake and talking. So whatever may still be wrong with her, he is placing her firmly in the category of not-dead. This means a few things:
It means that Logan can relax slightly; because however pissed he may be at his ex-girlfriend, he has never and will never want her dead. It also means that he can go back to not caring about her with a clear conscience. And last but not least, it means that he has not the slightest fucking clue as to why he is merging off of Interstate 5 toward Exit 17E - Neptune Memorial Hospital.
And as he pulls into the parking lot - this stupid fucking parking lot he has been in and out of more times than any 22-year-old should - he almost drives back out the way he came.
Why is he doing this? Who is he even doing it for? None of Veronica’s friends want to see him. Certainly there is no love lost between himself and Keith Mars. And as for Veronica herself - hell, if she actually had asked for him then she’d either been high on medication or delirious or both.
Actually, he decides, that scenario makes some sense. She had most likely said something about him last night- not being in her right mind, of course. And Wallace, being Wallace, had over-dramatized the situation on the phone. And Logan would show up at Veronica’s room and she would scream at him and kick him out and Wallace would realize his mistake and -
God, the whole thing was almost too predictable. Why even bother going through the motions?
He sighs. Well, his shrink had always said that he and Veronica “had never allowed themselves closure.” Logan had thought that their last fight had been “closure” enough, but Dr. Williston had never seemed to think so. Well, maybe - just maybe - he and Veronica have matured enough that they can have a civilized conversation. Not about their relationship, of course. Please, God, not about their relationship. But he’s coming here, isn’t he? That’s an extension of the olive branch - of sorts. There’s always a chance that she won’t sic hospital security on his ass.
He shakes his head as he unbuckles his seatbelt and hopes that this isn’t as terrible an idea as he thinks it is.
0000
0000
“Name.” The bored-looking receptionist chews on her wad of gum noisily and doesn’t spare Logan a glance.
“Logan Echolls,” he says as quietly as he can manage while still being audible.
Now the receptionist does look up, quirking her right eyebrow and giving Logan a stern once-over.
“Ain’t you that kid that’s related to”-
“Oprah Winfrey?” Logan flutters his eyelashes. “Unfortunately, no, but I’m told the resemblance is striking.”
The receptionist seems unamused. “Patient’s name.”
“Mars,” says Logan. “Veronica Mars.” The name feels unfamiliar to him, as though he hasn’t spoken it aloud in a long time. “I’m on the list.”
She scans her computer for a minute and nods. “Yeah. Room 703. Top floor, second door on the left.”
It hasn’t really hit him until this second. For all the distance he’s tried to put between the two of them, here he is - a mere 15-second elevator ride away from Veronica Mars.
0000
0000
In spite of himself, Logan’s hands are sweating horribly as he steps into the elevator. The only other people in it are a man not too much older than Logan and a young girl, maybe 3, squealing excitedly about getting to “meet her baby brother.”
Logan has forgotten - if indeed, he has ever known - that hospitals can be a source of life and hope and joy for some people.
His first time in a hospital had been when he was six years old. His father had shoved him down the stairs in a fit of rage.
Logan had woken up, confused and scared to find himself in a strange place with white walls and sheets. His mother had been by his side, looking both happy and nervous at the same time.
“Logan, baby. Thank God. Don’t you ever scare your father and I like that again. The stairs are not a jungle gym.” She had reached down to hug him.
“Daddy pushed me.”
Her features had electrified; eyebrows raising, eyes widening, mouth flattening. “No, Logan. You fell. You’re confused because you hit your head.” She turned to the nurse who was straightening Logan’s sheets. “He hit his head,” she explained again, apologetically. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
“Daddy pushed me down the stairs.”
“You fell, Logan. You fell.”
Logan had felt something surge up inside him - something new and frightening. And powerful. He’d narrowed his eyes at his mother and said as calmly as he could:
“Yes. Daddy made me fall.”
She had cried then, the tears welling up in her eyes and spilling soundlessly down her cheeks. And he’d felt guilty and changed his story. Knowing what he knows now, he would have stuck with the truth. Logan doubts those tears had been for him, anyway.
So yeah. Hospitals. Good times. And about to get even better, he thinks mirthlessly as the elevators open onto the seventh floor. He takes a deep, steadying breath and walks out into the hallway.
0000
0000
There’s no one here.
It’s not like Logan expects a welcoming committee, but still. He glances around. No Keith, no Wallace, no Mac. He isn’t sure what to do or where to go. The elevator is at the end of the hallway and Veronica’s room (his heart begins speeding painfully as he notices) is visible from where he is standing. If there is a visitor’s check-in or waiting area, he’ll have to pass her room to get to it.
He walks as quietly as he can to her doorway, and decides to peer in briefly. Maybe someone will be in there with her. At the very least he’ll be able to reassure himself that all her limbs are attached.
He steels himself for the strong possibility that he’ll have his ass handed to him by a pissed off girl-detective and peers into the open room.
Veronica is in there. Logan bites back a cry of dismay at her appearance. She is sitting up in bed, looking in the opposite direction - at a television screen. He can see her profile, though. Angry red weals are splashed on her throat. Her arms are black, blue, yellow, purple - every horrible shade of bruise known to humankind. There is a red mark below her left eye. There is an IV in her arm and there are bandages on both her arms and legs.
He thinks for a minute that she is talking to someone, but he realizes that she is speaking to the television. He listens to the words emanating from the television screen and after about thirty seconds, he recognizes it. The Great Mouse Detective. It had always been Veronica’s favorite movie as a child. Every time she stayed home sick from school, she’d watched it. He’d watched it with her a few times. Veronica is mouthing the words along with the movie and he hears her laugh - God, he’s missed her laugh - at one of her favorite parts. Well, it’s good to know she still laughs sometimes these days.
Logan stands there, unsure of what to do. Wallace had made it sound like there was something seriously wrong with her. And, while she admittedly looks terrible, it doesn’t seem to Logan like there’s any urgent information he needs to be made aware of. She seems to be in fairly good spirits. And they obviously feel comfortable enough to have left her on her own. Come to think of it, maybe he should just go. Seriously - she can’t really have needed him. His continued presence seems pointless. It’ll probably just upset her, and what she needs is rest and relaxation in order to heal.
But his decision is taken away from him. As he shifts his weight from one foot to the next, ready to back away from the door, Veronica turns and sees him.
They lock eyes for an instant that feels like an eternity.
And as Logan opens his mouth to say something - he doesn’t know what - Veronica’s face softens.
Logan’s heart stops beating altogether. He’d know that look anywhere, although it hasn’t been directed at him in three years. It is the look she’d given him every time she’d seen him - back when she’d been his Veronica. Back before he’d spent two years working diligently on removing all traces of her from his life.
“Logan.” Her voice catches. “You’re here.”
Logan has never been more confused in his life. He wills his voice not to shake. “Yeah. I’m here.”
“Are you okay?” she asks him.
“Uh-huh,” he replies mechanically.
She gestures to her wounds. “It’s really not as bad as it looks,” she says, ever the stoic. When Logan doesn’t reply, Veronica continues on: “Dad said that Lamb had you down at the station, and that that’s why you didn’t”- Her voice catches again. “-why you weren’t here. He doesn’t think…I mean, even Lamb can't be moronic enough to think you had anything to do with this, can he?”
The bottom of Logan’s stomach drops out and falls to the floor. “No,” he tells her finally. And truthfully.
Lamb really doesn’t think he has anything to do with this.
Because Sheriff Don Lamb has been dead for the past three years.