VM Fanfic: Post Partum 9/?
Veronica Mars Fic: Post Partum
A Veronica Mars FanFic
Title: Post Partum, Part 9/?
Author: Zaftig_darling
Pairing/Character: Logan/Veronica
Word Count: 1122
Rating: R (this part) for language and adult concepts
Summary: motherhood changes Veronica
Spoilers: All three seasons
Warnings: This may turn fetishy in future...
Parts 1 to 6
Part 7
Part 8
Veronica opens her eyes groggily. Briefly she snuggles back into the covers and reaches out an arm to curl against Logan. Briefly, caught in the moments between waking and sleeping, she feels like herself.
But as her fingers slide across the bed, finding only an empty place where Logan should be, she remembers.
She remembers that it is not morning. She remembers Jonah, and instantly she is awake and hyper-aware, her breasts full and heavy and aching to feed a baby.
She focuses her eyes on the digital clock on Logan’s side of the bed. It is almost 8:00 PM; it has been nearly four hours since she lay down to nurse Jonah. It occurs to her that this is the longest period of time he has gone without eating. Even considering her conversation with Logan, this is the most sleep she has had Jonah’s birth.
The discomfort in her breasts becomes agony as she hears the faint crying of her baby from the hallway. It feels like tiny needles are pressing against her nipples with each of his cries, which are growing louder.
As Logan opens the door, the baby’s cries are amplified, and Veronica finds the front of her tank top is suddenly wet with her milk.
In the darkness of the room, Logan doesn’t see that she is wide awake.
“Veronica,” he says, “I’m sorry, but he’s really unhappy. He’s hungry. I wanted to let you sleep longer, but he’s inconsolable. He wants you.”
Veronica sits up, pulling her tank top up, and takes the baby from Logan, who roots around desperately until he finds her nipple. He latches on and instantly the crying ceases, replaced only with the occasional satisfied grunt.
“Can you turn on the bedside lamp on your side?” Veronica asks Logan.
He steps carefully around the bed, finding the switch and bathing the room in soft yellow light.
Veronica gazes down at her son. His head is sweaty and there are tears on his cheek from his hungry crying. Veronica carefully brushes aside his baby tears and runs her fingers through his hair. Looking down at her baby, nursing blissfully, she thinks that she should feel happy right now.
Instead she feels an overwhelming anxiety. She wishes that she could allow herself the comfort of allowing Logan to care for Jonah. She is uncertain of her own abilities, but neither can she allow anyone else, even his father, to take over. She feels tremendously guilty that she needed sleep, that she needed some time away from the baby to get some rest.
She is embarrassed to admit that she both resents and is terrified by the sense of complete and utter responsibility of an entire human being. She wants to let Logan help her but she doesn't, honestly, know how.
She is leaning at an odd angle against the headboard of the bed and it begins to hurt her back. Logan is still standing, quietly watching her feed their son in the soft glow of the lamp.
She awkwardly attempts to stand up out of the bed without disturbing Jonah. The baby is very hungry, and a good nurser - he is not about to be dislodged, but she nearly stumbles as she rises. Instantly Logan is at her side to keep them from toppling over.
"What are you trying to get to, Veronica, let me help you?" he says.
"I just want to get to the glider," she responds, tilting her head in the direction of the gliding chair with matching footrest. It sits off to the side of room, situated for optimum television viewing.
In the first two agonizing weeks of Jonah's life, Veronica spent most of her time in this chair with Jonah, an endless loop of Law & Order reruns playing in front of her glassy eyes, bewildered and weary from the awkward mother-child dance of learning to nurse. Veronica is grateful that, in the weeks since, the baby has become a champion milk hound, probably capable of nursing upside down if the need were to arise. It is the one thing that she feels confident about right now.
Logan helps her get situated into the gentle rocking of the chair, and sits down on the footrest, facing her. Veronica looks up at him, and for the first time in a very long time, Logan recognizes HIS Veronica in her gaze.
He looks at her, their baby nestled against her, her hair is limp and lifeless and she is pale and tired, but he thinks, as he always does, that she is beautiful. His love for her and for his son feels like a geyser in his chest, and he wants to tell her how much he loves her, how much he has missed her, how amazed he is by her everyday, how afraid he is of losing her. She seems like she wants to say something to him, so he remains quiet, hoping that she will let him in again, hoping that she will tell him the things that seem to be tearing her apart.
She breaks eye contact with her husband and shifts her gaze to the top Jonah's head. The baby pulls his head away from her breast and issues a small mewl of disappointment, and she shifts him expertly to the other side where he resumes his happy suck-grunt-sigh of contentment.
"He's really hungry," Logan says, filling in the silence, still hoping she will talk to him - REALLY talk to him, about what is REALLY going on inside her head.
"It's been almost four hours since he ate last," she responds. "I think that's a record."
She stares at her husband for a few seconds, and says, "I don't know how to do this, Logan."
"What?" he says, puzzled, thinking she means breast-feeding. "You're doing great, look how much he's grown. That's all you, that's all your hard work, he's growing so much. Those first few weeks seemed really hard, but now, Veronica, he's really good at this. You're really good at this. You're amazing...you grew a whole person with your body and now you're....well, it's amazing."
"I don't mean this," she gestures with her free hand at Jonah's head against her breast. "I mean, it's so much bigger than this. I don't know how to be his MOTHER, I don't know how..." she looks away from him, not finishing her sentence.
A realization sweeps over Logan. "You're doing a great job being his mother, Veronica. He's hardly been away from you in eight weeks." He reaches out to push her hair from her face. "I think that maybe you don't know how to be his mother and how to be Veronica Mars at the same time."
She looks at him like he's slapped her in the face.
"Am I wrong?" he asks gently.
She is silent for a full minute, and then whispers, "No, you're not wrong."
To Part 10
A Veronica Mars FanFic
Title: Post Partum, Part 9/?
Author: Zaftig_darling
Pairing/Character: Logan/Veronica
Word Count: 1122
Rating: R (this part) for language and adult concepts
Summary: motherhood changes Veronica
Spoilers: All three seasons
Warnings: This may turn fetishy in future...
Parts 1 to 6
Part 7
Part 8
Veronica opens her eyes groggily. Briefly she snuggles back into the covers and reaches out an arm to curl against Logan. Briefly, caught in the moments between waking and sleeping, she feels like herself.
But as her fingers slide across the bed, finding only an empty place where Logan should be, she remembers.
She remembers that it is not morning. She remembers Jonah, and instantly she is awake and hyper-aware, her breasts full and heavy and aching to feed a baby.
She focuses her eyes on the digital clock on Logan’s side of the bed. It is almost 8:00 PM; it has been nearly four hours since she lay down to nurse Jonah. It occurs to her that this is the longest period of time he has gone without eating. Even considering her conversation with Logan, this is the most sleep she has had Jonah’s birth.
The discomfort in her breasts becomes agony as she hears the faint crying of her baby from the hallway. It feels like tiny needles are pressing against her nipples with each of his cries, which are growing louder.
As Logan opens the door, the baby’s cries are amplified, and Veronica finds the front of her tank top is suddenly wet with her milk.
In the darkness of the room, Logan doesn’t see that she is wide awake.
“Veronica,” he says, “I’m sorry, but he’s really unhappy. He’s hungry. I wanted to let you sleep longer, but he’s inconsolable. He wants you.”
Veronica sits up, pulling her tank top up, and takes the baby from Logan, who roots around desperately until he finds her nipple. He latches on and instantly the crying ceases, replaced only with the occasional satisfied grunt.
“Can you turn on the bedside lamp on your side?” Veronica asks Logan.
He steps carefully around the bed, finding the switch and bathing the room in soft yellow light.
Veronica gazes down at her son. His head is sweaty and there are tears on his cheek from his hungry crying. Veronica carefully brushes aside his baby tears and runs her fingers through his hair. Looking down at her baby, nursing blissfully, she thinks that she should feel happy right now.
Instead she feels an overwhelming anxiety. She wishes that she could allow herself the comfort of allowing Logan to care for Jonah. She is uncertain of her own abilities, but neither can she allow anyone else, even his father, to take over. She feels tremendously guilty that she needed sleep, that she needed some time away from the baby to get some rest.
She is embarrassed to admit that she both resents and is terrified by the sense of complete and utter responsibility of an entire human being. She wants to let Logan help her but she doesn't, honestly, know how.
She is leaning at an odd angle against the headboard of the bed and it begins to hurt her back. Logan is still standing, quietly watching her feed their son in the soft glow of the lamp.
She awkwardly attempts to stand up out of the bed without disturbing Jonah. The baby is very hungry, and a good nurser - he is not about to be dislodged, but she nearly stumbles as she rises. Instantly Logan is at her side to keep them from toppling over.
"What are you trying to get to, Veronica, let me help you?" he says.
"I just want to get to the glider," she responds, tilting her head in the direction of the gliding chair with matching footrest. It sits off to the side of room, situated for optimum television viewing.
In the first two agonizing weeks of Jonah's life, Veronica spent most of her time in this chair with Jonah, an endless loop of Law & Order reruns playing in front of her glassy eyes, bewildered and weary from the awkward mother-child dance of learning to nurse. Veronica is grateful that, in the weeks since, the baby has become a champion milk hound, probably capable of nursing upside down if the need were to arise. It is the one thing that she feels confident about right now.
Logan helps her get situated into the gentle rocking of the chair, and sits down on the footrest, facing her. Veronica looks up at him, and for the first time in a very long time, Logan recognizes HIS Veronica in her gaze.
He looks at her, their baby nestled against her, her hair is limp and lifeless and she is pale and tired, but he thinks, as he always does, that she is beautiful. His love for her and for his son feels like a geyser in his chest, and he wants to tell her how much he loves her, how much he has missed her, how amazed he is by her everyday, how afraid he is of losing her. She seems like she wants to say something to him, so he remains quiet, hoping that she will let him in again, hoping that she will tell him the things that seem to be tearing her apart.
She breaks eye contact with her husband and shifts her gaze to the top Jonah's head. The baby pulls his head away from her breast and issues a small mewl of disappointment, and she shifts him expertly to the other side where he resumes his happy suck-grunt-sigh of contentment.
"He's really hungry," Logan says, filling in the silence, still hoping she will talk to him - REALLY talk to him, about what is REALLY going on inside her head.
"It's been almost four hours since he ate last," she responds. "I think that's a record."
She stares at her husband for a few seconds, and says, "I don't know how to do this, Logan."
"What?" he says, puzzled, thinking she means breast-feeding. "You're doing great, look how much he's grown. That's all you, that's all your hard work, he's growing so much. Those first few weeks seemed really hard, but now, Veronica, he's really good at this. You're really good at this. You're amazing...you grew a whole person with your body and now you're....well, it's amazing."
"I don't mean this," she gestures with her free hand at Jonah's head against her breast. "I mean, it's so much bigger than this. I don't know how to be his MOTHER, I don't know how..." she looks away from him, not finishing her sentence.
A realization sweeps over Logan. "You're doing a great job being his mother, Veronica. He's hardly been away from you in eight weeks." He reaches out to push her hair from her face. "I think that maybe you don't know how to be his mother and how to be Veronica Mars at the same time."
She looks at him like he's slapped her in the face.
"Am I wrong?" he asks gently.
She is silent for a full minute, and then whispers, "No, you're not wrong."
To Part 10