Baby Blues (Chapter 3) Veronica/Logan R
Title: Baby Blues
Author: glasheen25
Characters/Pairings: Veronica/Logan
Word Count: 2144
Rating: R for language
Spoilers: none
Summary: Sequel to Natural Born Killer. Still trying to recover from the aftermath of her previous case, Veronica’s life is again thrown into turmoil when she receives some unwelcome news.
Sitting stiffly in the passenger seat of Logan’s car, Veronica’s stomach heaved miserably as he wound around yet another bend.
“How are you holding up?” Logan asked gently as he glanced at his girlfriend in concern.
“Okay, I guess,” Veronica replied uncertainly, hastily opening the window in the vain hope that the fresh air might provide her with some relief. “I’m just so glad to be out of that restaurant. The smell of the food was killing me. What must my dad think?”
Logan had mumbled some excuse about Veronica complaining of feeling unwell earlier that day when she had made her impromptu dash to the restroom and thankfully, Keith Mars had accepted without further question.
“That you’re sick?” Logan suggested with a smile. “Despite all the evidence pointing to the contrary, you are human and humans do tend to get sick from time to time, you know?”
“Funny,” Veronica shot back weakly, swiping a hand across her brow. “If I didn’t feel so crappy right now, I’d punch you.”
“We’ll be home in five minutes,” Logan murmured reassuringly, as Veronica sat ashen face in the car beside him. “Think you can hold on that long?”
Veronica started nodding weakly in reply before another wave of nausea swept over her and she clamped a hand over her mouth.
“I’m going to be sick,” she choked out, pushing open the car door the second Logan pulled to a stop at the side of the road.
It was going to be a long nine months.
--
Hearing the drone of her alarm clock, Veronica groaned unhappily as the realization suddenly hit her that it was time to get up. Her head ached and Veronica felt exhausted having spent most of the night crouched over the toilet bowl.
It would be so tempting to call in sick and for a fleeting moment, Veronica fantasized about ringing Marilyn and telling the unit director that she would out for the rest of the week. But then Veronica remembered the Clark’s bloodied remains and she reconsidered. The first few days of investigating a case were crucial and Veronica didn’t want to risk being kept out of the loop just because she was feeling a little bit nauseous. Well, maybe more than a little bit nauseous but nothing that a Starbucks and some paracetamol couldn’t deal with.
“How are you feeling?”
Shifting over onto her side, Veronica could see Logan walking out of the bathroom, a towel slung casually around his waist.
“A lot better,” she lied, forcing a smile onto her face, knowing that Logan would probably want her to take the day off work if he knew she was still sick.
Stepping into the shower, Veronica fought off the waves of dizziness that swept over her as she massaged the shampoo into her blonde hair. She felt terrible but a few minutes of having the hot water seep into her skin started to work their magic and by the time she was toweling her hair dry, Veronica felt infinitely better.
Logan was standing at the stove when Veronica walked in and Veronica felt recovered enough to even risk trying some of his bacon and eggs with her usual black coffee.
“She eats,” Logan commented with a bemused expression on his face. “It’s a miracle.”
“Hilarious, Logan,” Veronica retorted, glaring daggers at her boyfriend. “You know, if I had my way you would be sharing in this torture. It would make pregnancy a whole lot easier if we could do every second day on the morning sickness.”
“You know I would love to be able to help you out, V,” Logan joked, pressing a kiss against his his girlfriend’s cheek. “But biology is against me, unfortunately.”
“How convenient for you.” Veronica smiled, taking a tentative few bites from her breakfast before giving up the meal as lost.
Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and throwing a few pieces of fruit into her bag, Veronica gave Logan a quick kiss before rushing out the door. She was already running late and LA morning traffic wasn’t to be trifled with.
--
It was a scorcher. The temperatures were already well up in the nineties and it was barely ten o’ clock. The road outside the Clark house was almost completely blocked with the vans and crew of the various news channels and Veronica could see them almost scrambling over one another for an interview, the second a neighbor or a curious bystander walked past. The story of the double murder had been splashed across every newspaper and every television station that morning and Veronica could only imagine the hype, if the media got wind of who was responsible for the killings.
“It’s a damn shame,” Burke mumbled beside her quietly, as he filled in Veronica on the details of the Clarks only daughter, Ciara. “It seems the girl doesn’t have any family other than her parents, so she’s been placed in foster care until child protective services can organize something more permanent.”
“That is hard,” Veronica sighed, empathizing immediately with the little girl who had been left so tragically on her own. “I wonder if it could be arranged for her to speak with us today. Though, I know it’s unlikely, we still can’t discount the fact that Ciara might have some information that might lead us to her parent’s killer.”
“Marilyn has set up the meeting for this evening.” Burke replied. “It will be interesting to see if she knows something.”
Swiping a hand over the sweat that already glistened on his brow, Burke pulled out his ID and strode purposefully past the same sullen-faced policeman who had guarded the door the previous day.
The chaos that had gripped the Clark house the day before had thankfully subsided. The bungalow was now lonely and quiet, Detective Grace and a few members of the CSI unit the only police presence remaining in the house.
“We’re almost finished up here,”
Glancing behind her, Veronica saw Detective Grace emerging from one of the bedrooms. The man looked exhausted. There were dark shadows smudged beneath his eyes and his wrinkled white shirt boasted the same coffee stain on the collar that it had the day before.
“There was a hell of a mess to clean up in the bedroom and CSI are hopeful that our guy left something behind.”
“Have you spoken to any of the neighbors?” Veronica asked curiously, pushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. From experience, Veronica knew that you could always rely on nosy neighbors to drum to up some sort of a lead when they had nothing else.
“They hadn’t much to say about the Clarks,” the man shrugged. “Apparently they kept to themselves and didn’t involve themselves much in the community. I was speaking with their next door neighbors, The Bensons and they reported that they only saw the family about once or twice a month. Margaret Benson seems to be a bit of a gossip and she thought that the family were a bit strange, if she was to be honest.”
“Strange, as in how?” Veronica asked.
“They didn’t participate in any of the community events and the daughter appeared to be a sad little child. Margaret Benson couldn’t ever remember the girl having any friends over. She had invited Ciara to come over to her house a few times but the girl would never come. Ms. Benson suspected that the parents simply wouldn’t let their daughter socialize with other children.”
“That is sad.” Veronica agreed, following Detective Grace down the hall towards the crime scene. “We’ll need to speak with this Benson woman and any of the other neighbors who have information about the Clarks.
--
Pushing her way into the interview room, Veronica felt a surge of affection for the ten-year-old girl sitting forlornly on the seat. Small for her age, she had a head of pale blonde hair, which framed a thin, narrow face. She didn’t smile, didn’t offer any word of greeting, just started at Veronica nervously as the FBI agent took a seat opposite her.
“Hi, Ciara. My name is Veronica,” Veronica began, plastering a wide smile on her face and extending a hand to Ciara which the girl reluctantly shook. “What grade are you in?”
Though clean, the girl’s clothes were shabby Veronica noticed, the material of her shirt long faded through repeated washing and wear. And her nails were bitten to ugly stumps, the edge of her thumb red raw from where she had bitten the nail back too far.
“Forth,” the girl replied back dully, making no attempt to expand on the conversation.
“You like school?” Veronica tried again, trying to engage the girl in conversation.
“It’s okay, I guess,” she answered back, refusing to meet Veronica’s eyes, her face now lowered purposefully to the floor.
This wasn’t working, Veronica immediately realized, deciding to change tack.
“I was sorry to hear about your parents. You must have got a terrible shock.”
At the mention of her parents, the girl visibly paled.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
The tone in her voice was almost defiant but Veronica could see the fear in the girl’s wide blue eyes when she finally raised her face to meet Veronica’s. “Mrs. Cook promised me that I wouldn’t have to talk about that if I didn’t want to.”
That being the brutal murder of both of her parents.
Mrs. Cook was the social worker assigned to Ciara Clark, Veronica knew.
“I won’t force you to talk about anything you don’t want to, Ciara,” Veronica murmured comfortingly, trying to disguise her growing unease seeing an ugly purplish bruise snaking around the girl’s wrist.
There was something wrong here, Veronica instantly knew. The child was hiding something and Veronica was determined to find out exactly what that was.
--
“What to expect when you’re expecting. What the hell is this?”
“A book,” Logan replied, an amused expression on his face as he noted his girlfriend’s reaction. “I thought you could do with some light bedtime reading.”
“This is your idea of light bedtime reading?” Veronica grumbled, taking the book and sliding it onto the kitchen table. “What’s a book going to tell me, that I don’t already know?”
“You’re so cute when you’re cranky,” Logan teased her, taking Veronica in his arms and pressing his lips softly. “Maybe that’s the start of those pregnancy hormones they talk about in chapter two.”
“If you’re trying to piss me off, you’re going about it the right way,” Veronica muttered accusingly, though a faint smile still graced her lips. “Now enough of the pregnancy talk and the pregnancy books and take me to bed. I’ve had the day from hell and I need a distraction.”
“If it’s a distraction the lady wants, a distraction the lady will get,” Logan promised, sweeping Veronica into his arms and pushing the bedroom door open.
Depositing Veronica gently on the bed, Logan pulled off his shirt before sitting down beside her.
“I love you, Veronica,” he murmured, bringing her face up to meet his and kissing her softly.
Between the shock of finding out about the pregnancy, Veronica’s morning sickness and the demands of the Brian Matthews case, there was no denying that Veronica and Logan’s sex life had suffered. While previously they would have found any excuse to drag one another to the bedroom, impatiently ripping off each other’s clothes on the way, now the bed was seemingly reversed solely for sleep.
Relaxing into his touch, Veronica accepted Logan’s advances eagerly, moaning in satisfaction as he started impatiently unbuttoning her shirt. Tossing the white cotton onto the floor, Logan pushed Veronica down onto the bed and the kiss started growing more heated.
“At least we don’t need to worry about you getting pregnant, right?” Logan couldn’t resist joking as his fingers worked on the clasp of Veronica’s bra.
Enthralled by Logan’s touch, Veronica couldn’t even begin to formulate a witty response. Instead she wound her arms around Logan’s neck, her blue eyes squeezed shut in utter contentment.
For the first time in days, she didn’t care about the pregnancy or the case or even about what her father would think. She had Logan and that was all that mattered. Everything would just work itself out. It always did.
“I love you.” she whispered to Logan later that night, though she know by the almost rhythmic sound of his breathing that he was already asleep.
Author: glasheen25
Characters/Pairings: Veronica/Logan
Word Count: 2144
Rating: R for language
Spoilers: none
Summary: Sequel to Natural Born Killer. Still trying to recover from the aftermath of her previous case, Veronica’s life is again thrown into turmoil when she receives some unwelcome news.
Sitting stiffly in the passenger seat of Logan’s car, Veronica’s stomach heaved miserably as he wound around yet another bend.
“How are you holding up?” Logan asked gently as he glanced at his girlfriend in concern.
“Okay, I guess,” Veronica replied uncertainly, hastily opening the window in the vain hope that the fresh air might provide her with some relief. “I’m just so glad to be out of that restaurant. The smell of the food was killing me. What must my dad think?”
Logan had mumbled some excuse about Veronica complaining of feeling unwell earlier that day when she had made her impromptu dash to the restroom and thankfully, Keith Mars had accepted without further question.
“That you’re sick?” Logan suggested with a smile. “Despite all the evidence pointing to the contrary, you are human and humans do tend to get sick from time to time, you know?”
“Funny,” Veronica shot back weakly, swiping a hand across her brow. “If I didn’t feel so crappy right now, I’d punch you.”
“We’ll be home in five minutes,” Logan murmured reassuringly, as Veronica sat ashen face in the car beside him. “Think you can hold on that long?”
Veronica started nodding weakly in reply before another wave of nausea swept over her and she clamped a hand over her mouth.
“I’m going to be sick,” she choked out, pushing open the car door the second Logan pulled to a stop at the side of the road.
It was going to be a long nine months.
--
Hearing the drone of her alarm clock, Veronica groaned unhappily as the realization suddenly hit her that it was time to get up. Her head ached and Veronica felt exhausted having spent most of the night crouched over the toilet bowl.
It would be so tempting to call in sick and for a fleeting moment, Veronica fantasized about ringing Marilyn and telling the unit director that she would out for the rest of the week. But then Veronica remembered the Clark’s bloodied remains and she reconsidered. The first few days of investigating a case were crucial and Veronica didn’t want to risk being kept out of the loop just because she was feeling a little bit nauseous. Well, maybe more than a little bit nauseous but nothing that a Starbucks and some paracetamol couldn’t deal with.
“How are you feeling?”
Shifting over onto her side, Veronica could see Logan walking out of the bathroom, a towel slung casually around his waist.
“A lot better,” she lied, forcing a smile onto her face, knowing that Logan would probably want her to take the day off work if he knew she was still sick.
Stepping into the shower, Veronica fought off the waves of dizziness that swept over her as she massaged the shampoo into her blonde hair. She felt terrible but a few minutes of having the hot water seep into her skin started to work their magic and by the time she was toweling her hair dry, Veronica felt infinitely better.
Logan was standing at the stove when Veronica walked in and Veronica felt recovered enough to even risk trying some of his bacon and eggs with her usual black coffee.
“She eats,” Logan commented with a bemused expression on his face. “It’s a miracle.”
“Hilarious, Logan,” Veronica retorted, glaring daggers at her boyfriend. “You know, if I had my way you would be sharing in this torture. It would make pregnancy a whole lot easier if we could do every second day on the morning sickness.”
“You know I would love to be able to help you out, V,” Logan joked, pressing a kiss against his his girlfriend’s cheek. “But biology is against me, unfortunately.”
“How convenient for you.” Veronica smiled, taking a tentative few bites from her breakfast before giving up the meal as lost.
Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and throwing a few pieces of fruit into her bag, Veronica gave Logan a quick kiss before rushing out the door. She was already running late and LA morning traffic wasn’t to be trifled with.
--
It was a scorcher. The temperatures were already well up in the nineties and it was barely ten o’ clock. The road outside the Clark house was almost completely blocked with the vans and crew of the various news channels and Veronica could see them almost scrambling over one another for an interview, the second a neighbor or a curious bystander walked past. The story of the double murder had been splashed across every newspaper and every television station that morning and Veronica could only imagine the hype, if the media got wind of who was responsible for the killings.
“It’s a damn shame,” Burke mumbled beside her quietly, as he filled in Veronica on the details of the Clarks only daughter, Ciara. “It seems the girl doesn’t have any family other than her parents, so she’s been placed in foster care until child protective services can organize something more permanent.”
“That is hard,” Veronica sighed, empathizing immediately with the little girl who had been left so tragically on her own. “I wonder if it could be arranged for her to speak with us today. Though, I know it’s unlikely, we still can’t discount the fact that Ciara might have some information that might lead us to her parent’s killer.”
“Marilyn has set up the meeting for this evening.” Burke replied. “It will be interesting to see if she knows something.”
Swiping a hand over the sweat that already glistened on his brow, Burke pulled out his ID and strode purposefully past the same sullen-faced policeman who had guarded the door the previous day.
The chaos that had gripped the Clark house the day before had thankfully subsided. The bungalow was now lonely and quiet, Detective Grace and a few members of the CSI unit the only police presence remaining in the house.
“We’re almost finished up here,”
Glancing behind her, Veronica saw Detective Grace emerging from one of the bedrooms. The man looked exhausted. There were dark shadows smudged beneath his eyes and his wrinkled white shirt boasted the same coffee stain on the collar that it had the day before.
“There was a hell of a mess to clean up in the bedroom and CSI are hopeful that our guy left something behind.”
“Have you spoken to any of the neighbors?” Veronica asked curiously, pushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. From experience, Veronica knew that you could always rely on nosy neighbors to drum to up some sort of a lead when they had nothing else.
“They hadn’t much to say about the Clarks,” the man shrugged. “Apparently they kept to themselves and didn’t involve themselves much in the community. I was speaking with their next door neighbors, The Bensons and they reported that they only saw the family about once or twice a month. Margaret Benson seems to be a bit of a gossip and she thought that the family were a bit strange, if she was to be honest.”
“Strange, as in how?” Veronica asked.
“They didn’t participate in any of the community events and the daughter appeared to be a sad little child. Margaret Benson couldn’t ever remember the girl having any friends over. She had invited Ciara to come over to her house a few times but the girl would never come. Ms. Benson suspected that the parents simply wouldn’t let their daughter socialize with other children.”
“That is sad.” Veronica agreed, following Detective Grace down the hall towards the crime scene. “We’ll need to speak with this Benson woman and any of the other neighbors who have information about the Clarks.
--
Pushing her way into the interview room, Veronica felt a surge of affection for the ten-year-old girl sitting forlornly on the seat. Small for her age, she had a head of pale blonde hair, which framed a thin, narrow face. She didn’t smile, didn’t offer any word of greeting, just started at Veronica nervously as the FBI agent took a seat opposite her.
“Hi, Ciara. My name is Veronica,” Veronica began, plastering a wide smile on her face and extending a hand to Ciara which the girl reluctantly shook. “What grade are you in?”
Though clean, the girl’s clothes were shabby Veronica noticed, the material of her shirt long faded through repeated washing and wear. And her nails were bitten to ugly stumps, the edge of her thumb red raw from where she had bitten the nail back too far.
“Forth,” the girl replied back dully, making no attempt to expand on the conversation.
“You like school?” Veronica tried again, trying to engage the girl in conversation.
“It’s okay, I guess,” she answered back, refusing to meet Veronica’s eyes, her face now lowered purposefully to the floor.
This wasn’t working, Veronica immediately realized, deciding to change tack.
“I was sorry to hear about your parents. You must have got a terrible shock.”
At the mention of her parents, the girl visibly paled.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
The tone in her voice was almost defiant but Veronica could see the fear in the girl’s wide blue eyes when she finally raised her face to meet Veronica’s. “Mrs. Cook promised me that I wouldn’t have to talk about that if I didn’t want to.”
That being the brutal murder of both of her parents.
Mrs. Cook was the social worker assigned to Ciara Clark, Veronica knew.
“I won’t force you to talk about anything you don’t want to, Ciara,” Veronica murmured comfortingly, trying to disguise her growing unease seeing an ugly purplish bruise snaking around the girl’s wrist.
There was something wrong here, Veronica instantly knew. The child was hiding something and Veronica was determined to find out exactly what that was.
--
“What to expect when you’re expecting. What the hell is this?”
“A book,” Logan replied, an amused expression on his face as he noted his girlfriend’s reaction. “I thought you could do with some light bedtime reading.”
“This is your idea of light bedtime reading?” Veronica grumbled, taking the book and sliding it onto the kitchen table. “What’s a book going to tell me, that I don’t already know?”
“You’re so cute when you’re cranky,” Logan teased her, taking Veronica in his arms and pressing his lips softly. “Maybe that’s the start of those pregnancy hormones they talk about in chapter two.”
“If you’re trying to piss me off, you’re going about it the right way,” Veronica muttered accusingly, though a faint smile still graced her lips. “Now enough of the pregnancy talk and the pregnancy books and take me to bed. I’ve had the day from hell and I need a distraction.”
“If it’s a distraction the lady wants, a distraction the lady will get,” Logan promised, sweeping Veronica into his arms and pushing the bedroom door open.
Depositing Veronica gently on the bed, Logan pulled off his shirt before sitting down beside her.
“I love you, Veronica,” he murmured, bringing her face up to meet his and kissing her softly.
Between the shock of finding out about the pregnancy, Veronica’s morning sickness and the demands of the Brian Matthews case, there was no denying that Veronica and Logan’s sex life had suffered. While previously they would have found any excuse to drag one another to the bedroom, impatiently ripping off each other’s clothes on the way, now the bed was seemingly reversed solely for sleep.
Relaxing into his touch, Veronica accepted Logan’s advances eagerly, moaning in satisfaction as he started impatiently unbuttoning her shirt. Tossing the white cotton onto the floor, Logan pushed Veronica down onto the bed and the kiss started growing more heated.
“At least we don’t need to worry about you getting pregnant, right?” Logan couldn’t resist joking as his fingers worked on the clasp of Veronica’s bra.
Enthralled by Logan’s touch, Veronica couldn’t even begin to formulate a witty response. Instead she wound her arms around Logan’s neck, her blue eyes squeezed shut in utter contentment.
For the first time in days, she didn’t care about the pregnancy or the case or even about what her father would think. She had Logan and that was all that mattered. Everything would just work itself out. It always did.
“I love you.” she whispered to Logan later that night, though she know by the almost rhythmic sound of his breathing that he was already asleep.