Fic: For the Sake of a Friend, (Logan/Veronica, Meg/Weevil), PG-13, 28/30
Title: For the Sake of a Friend, (Logan/Veronica, Meg/Weevil), PG-13, 28/30
Author: jacedesbff
Pairing/Character: Logan/Veronica, Meg/Weevil, ensemble
Word Count: 11,558 (no frakkin' lie!)
Rating: PG-13 for mild language and sexual situations
Summary: AU from the Pilot; this chapter takes place during the timeframe where “A Trip to the Dentist” would have happened
Spoilers: Familiarity with Season 1 required.
Disclaimer: Rob Thomas owns all.
All previous chapters may be found at my LJ.
A/N: First let me say that this chapter is longer than any other WIP--in total--that I've done. Next, I wouldn’t look for any correlations to canon here. My ongoing thanks to my most wondermous beta, candlewaxdreams, even though she called me several unladylike words because this chapter made her cry. Humph! Anyhoo, hope you enjoy! :-)
X-posted all over creation. I would love to hear your comments on this!
Veronica drove to the hospital with her heart in her throat. She could barely swallow, her adrenaline was rushing so fast that she could hardly catch her breath, and when she screeched to a halt in front of the ER doors, she couldn’t for the life of her recall a single traffic light or stop sign.
Logan had been silent throughout the wild trip. Veronica had grabbed a pillow and a throw blanket out of his room on the way to the car. Wrapped up in them, Logan didn’t even seem conscious once he sank into the LeBaron’s passenger seat and Veronica had caught more glances of her battered boyfriend than she had of the road.
Turning on her emergency blinkers, Veronica helped Logan-who fortunately was conscious-out of her car and in through the sliding doors.
“We need help!” she cried loudly as they went in. Luckily, it was apparently slow for a Friday night in the Neptune ER and a nurse came running almost immediately with a wheelchair.
Veronica tried to follow, but the admit secretary stopped her, insisting that someone provide Logan’s information and fill out his admission papers. Veronica brushed the woman off, grabbing the clipboard that the woman was waving and taking off down the hall in the direction that Logan had been pushed.
She found him surrounded by medical personnel in a curtained-off area, already hooked up to frighteningly beeping machines that looked like something off of ER.
“How is he? What’s wrong?” Her demands might have held more weight had she not sounded like she was about to burst into tears any minute, which she was.
“What happened?!” yelled the doctor who seemed to be in charge.
“I think he was in a bar fight.” The lie rolled off of Veronica’s tongue without conscious thought or effort. What the hell? “He called me and managed to get out an address downtown. That’s all I know.” Seriously, where had that come from?
“I need a liter of O negative, stat!” yelled a woman. “He’s going into shock!”
“Logan! It’s okay, I’m here!” shouted Veronica over the din of medical jargon and electronic shrieking.
“Miss, we’re going to have to ask you to get out of the way,” said a nurse firmly as she pushed Veronica to the other side of the curtain.
“But-“ Veronica started to argue, but the nurse looked her in the eye.
“Let us do our jobs.”
The young woman’s shoulders sagged and she backed off. The nurse disappeared behind the curtains.
Veronica turned to see that she was in the center aisle of a large ER. She realized for the first time that she was still holding the admit secretary’s clipboard. All her mind could process, though, were the horrifying sounds and words coming from Logan’s team of doctors. Veronica blindly stumbled to the other side of the room and slid down the wall. She pulled her knees to her chest and finally allowed the tears to cascade down her face.
This let loose the floodgates and for the next several minutes, all Veronica could do was cry-the hard, wracking sobs of the desperate and terrified.
A nurse slid open the curtain to Logan’s examination area and Veronica’s bright red, puffy eyes looked up to see what was happening. The older woman looked over to the crumpled figure and turned to say something to someone still hidden by the curtain. A doctor who looked much too young for Veronica’s tastes emerged and crossed to her. As he went to crouch down, he turned back to the nurse.
“Anna, will you please get 10 cc’s of Valium and a wet washcloth for-“ he looked questioningly at the girl on the floor.
“Veronica,” she filled in, her voice shaky and weak.
Was that her voice? Why did her voice sound like that?
The doctor’s voice was calming and strong. “Veronica, I want you to sit up here,” he gestured to the examination bed to her left, “so I can take a look at you.”
“Why?” she asked blankly. “How’s Logan?”
“Come on,” he took her hand and pulled her up. “I’ll tell you about Logan once you’re up on the bed.”
“Okay,” she said numbly, climbing up onto the bed as the nurse returned with a syringe and a washcloth. “What’s that for?” she demanded, strength returning to her voice as she pulled away from the nurse and the needle. She noted that the medical-type people were leaving Logan’s curtained-off bed and she sat up, suddenly frantic. “What about Logan?! Why are they leaving?!”
The doctor nodded to the nurse, who took Veronica’s arm and gave her the shot. Despite herself, Veronica became more relaxed, finally lying back against the pillows on the bed. She turned beseeching eyes towards the doctor. “Logan?”
“He’s going to be fine.” Veronica felt herself relax even more. “He has a concussion and we’re sending him up for an MRI. We’re also going to get x-rays of his shoulder, hand and ribs. You saw his left shoulder, which is dislocated and there’s his hand-he has a few broken fingers. It also sounds like he might have a few broken ribs from the way he’s breathing.” He kept on in that calm, steady voice. “We’ve stabilized his blood pressure, though, and he didn’t lose as much blood as it looks like. One of his teeth was knocked loose-between that and the cut on his forehead-well, you have to realize that head wounds bleed more than most.” The chemically calm blonde nodded as though she understood. “He’s going to be okay, Veronica. We’re going to check everything out and get him bandaged up, but things look good. It’s just a lot at once. You said it was a bar fight?”
Secure in the knowledge that Logan was going to be okay, coming down off of the adrenaline high and aided by Valium, Veronica was starting to fade into unconsciousness.
“Uh, yeah…” she said, as she fought sleep to answer his question. “I think so…”
“That must have been some fight,” noted the doctor with a skeptical look. “I’d like to see the other guy.”
“So would I,” said Veronica, and with that last truth, she fell asleep.
-
The world started to fade in and Veronica heard a faraway voice say, “Your daughter was in mild shock. We gave her a light sedative.”
Her dad’s voice asked the question that she herself was struggling to form in her mind. “And Logan?”
Veronica desperately fought off the pull of sleep to hear the answer.
“Normally we wouldn’t tell anyone outside the family, but since the only person Mr. Echolls keeps calling for is your daughter and we haven’t been able to get a hold of his father…” There was a pause before the voice continued. “His MRI came up clean. He has a mild concussion, but he’ll be okay in a day or two. He’ll also have to see an oral surgeon about his molar-it took a pretty hard blow.”
Yet another reason to rip Aaron’s face off. The voice was continuing to catalogue her lover’s many wounds, but sleep was already carrying Veronica off to oblivion.
-
When she woke again, the clock on the wall read 7:03. She presumed it was a.m., hoping against hope that she hadn’t slept for over 36 hours. She looked around. Apparently she was still in the Neptune General ER. Where was Logan?! Suddenly frantic, she sat up to find someone who could help her.
“Veronica?” her dad had been sleeping in a chair next to her hospital bed.
“Dad! How’s Logan?”
“He’s fine, honey,” Keith pushed her back down. “They kept him overnight for observation. He’s in a room right outside the ER. The doctor said you were in pretty rough shape last night.” He looked carefully into his daughter’s eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Veronica couldn’t help but flinch. She was mortified by her actions the previous evening.
“I’m fine, Dad. Really. Right now I just need to go see Logan.”
Keith sighed. He had expected as much. “Come on,” and he helped his daughter off of the gurney. Veronica moved stiffly, having slept on a foam mat excuse for a mattress all night. Her dad led her down the main ER hall to a glassed-off private room.
“Logan!” Veronica said as she rushed to his side. Logan’s eyes fluttered open. There was a bandage covering his left temple. In addition, the young man’s face was puffy, particularly the left side, which was a mosaic of unattractive colors-the bruises looking even worse this morning. His left arm was strapped to his chest, encased in a sling. The pinky and ring fingers on his right hand were pinned together in a green and silver splint, and the rest of his fingers and the back of that palm were nasty shades of red, purple and green. All in all, Logan looked like he’d been on the losing end of the very bad far fight that Veronica falsely claimed had injured him.
If only that were the case.
“What’s this I hear about you getting tranked last night?” he asked in a muffled voice as a slight smile crossed his bruised features, replaced almost as quickly by an expression of pain.
“Sorry,” he said, “hurts to smile.”
Her heart literally ached.
“Do we know when you get to go home?” asked Veronica, aiming the question at both Logan and her dad.
“The doctor should be here pretty soon to check up on him. Nothing needs long-term care, so if things look okay, he should be able to go home later this morning.”
Veronica’s shoulders sagged and she let out a sigh of relief. Logan’s right hand moved from its bed of pillows to check the bandage on his head.
“In the meantime, I’m going to go see if I can get us some breakfast,” Keith told them. “I was awake all night, unlike the two of you, which means I, at least, am starving. Either of you want anything?” Both of the teenagers shook their heads no and with a kiss to Veronica’s forehead, Keith headed out the door in search of sustenance.
As the door shut behind him, the curtain-covered glass once again gave Logan and Veronica at least the illusion of privacy. Veronica pulled up a rolling stool to sit next to the boy she loved.
She took his right hand in hers. “How are you really doing?”
Logan’s eyes moved to stare at the ceiling.
“I’ll live,” he muttered.
“What happened?” she asked softly and Logan sighed.
The door opened behind her.
“That was quick. Is there a burrito stand in the-” she said as she turned around, only to stop mid-sentence at the sight of Aaron Echolls entering Logan’s hospital room.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier-“
“Get out.” Veronica cut him off.
“I was in L.A.-“
“If you don’t get out, I will start yelling so loudly that every person in the ER and a five-mile radius will come running. Then I will keep yelling about how Logan really ended up like this. I told the doctors that he got into a bar fight. I did that because I love Logan, not because I give a rat’s ass about you. And I will NOT put up with the hypocrisy of you waltzing in here like it isn’t your fault in the first place!” Veronica’s voice got louder throughout the speech and as she reached the last of her breath, Aaron put his hands up in a placating gesture to quiet her.
“GET OUT!” Veronica screamed, and Aaron, not being nearly as stupid as his movies might imply, exited the room without a backward glance.
Veronica was breathing heavily when she turned to look at Logan, frozen in his hospital bed.
“I’m sorry if that was over the line-“ she started.
Logan grabbed her hand to silence her.
“It’s been a long time since somebody loved me enough to stand up to him. Don’t apologize, okay?”
Veronica practically threw herself over her boyfriend’s bruised and trussed-up body, wary of hurting his left shoulder or the cracked ribs.
“I was so scared,” her tears wet Logan’s ugly blue-and-white-patterned gown as it muffled her words against his chest. “I saw you…I was so scared.”
“Shhh,” he whispered into her hair as his three good fingers gently stroked her head. “I’m all right. It’s gonna be okay.”
Veronica hitched herself up onto the bed to lie next to him, trying not to jostle him too badly as she did so. “It’s not okay, Logan. It’s not. This is not okay.”
Logan sighed, her head rising in tandem on his chest. “I’m going to make him pay. I won’t ask you for your help. I know he’s your dad and you have to love him or-whatever, but I don’t care. He’s going to pay for this, okay? I don’t want to go sneaking around behind your back, but I have to do this.”
She raised her head from Logan’s now-damp torso. He looked at her, at a loss for words, before soundlessly nodding his head.
The door opened and Veronica jumped off of the bed to stand beside her boyfriend, wiping her eyes quickly as she did so. The young-looking doctor from the night before closed the door behind him.
“Hello, Mr. Echolls. I’m Dr. Lake. We met last night, but I doubt you remember the introduction.” Dr. Lake crossed to stand on the other side of Logan’s bed.
“Not really,” said Logan dryly.
“I remember!” Veronica said perkily. Both Logan and the doctor gave her odd looks. “Hey, I got drugs, too,” she added sheepishly.
The doctor turned his eyes back to the patient as said patient gave Veronica one last look that clearly said, Overcompensating much?
“You’re just about ready to go, but there are a few things we need to go over first,” the doctor went on as though Veronica had not just given her best sorority-girl cheerleader impression.
“Let me have it,” said Logan. “I’m ready to get back on the dance floor.”
Veronica held his damaged right hand and tried not to roll her eyes.
“You have a concussion. For the next 24 hours, you need to have someone around at all times when you’re sleeping. They need to wake you up every hour so that you don’t fall into too deep of a sleep.” Logan and Veronica both nodded.
“You have two breaks in your pinky finger and one in your ring finger. Make sure you don’t get the splint wet, and after you get out of the shower, you’ll need to have someone put it back on, because you won’t have full use of your left arm for seven to ten days. You’ll need to see an orthopedic specialist to determine what exactly the course of treatment will be for that. The MRI we took tells us that as things go, the damage to the muscles around your shoulder joint is relatively minor. Still, you have to be careful or it could easily get worse.” Dr. Lake pointed to the sling strapping down Logan’s left arm. “Keep that still,” he said firmly and he looked at Veronica. “I’m holding you responsible for making sure he doesn’t go bouncing that around. We’ll see you back here in a week to take the stitches out of your forehead.”
“How many?” Logan asked. In answer to Veronica’s silent question, he added, “I’m keeping a running total.”
“Three,” answered the doctor. “It was a small cut. My guess is the person you fought with wears a ring.”
Logan raised his eyebrows in a vague non-answer.
The doctor went on, giving them the lowdown on the injuries to Logan’s ribs. Apparently the tall teenager had to keep his torso taped up and wouldn’t be participating in any sports-including surfing-for the foreseeable future.
“One thing that you have to do in the next day or two is visit an oral surgeon. Your back molar is loose and your gums are heavily bruised-it needs to be looked at as soon as possible. There’s a list of surgeons that we recommend at the nurse’s station. And…that’s pretty much it,” summed up the doctor. “The details are all in your exit papers, but I needed to go over them with you first. Any questions before we let you go?”
Logan and Veronica shook their heads. They were going to be making a lot of trips to dentists and doctors, but it’s not like anything that the doctor had said was unexpected. In fact, it was really better than they had expected. Dr. Lake headed for the door. He got to it, but turned back around, crossing to stand by the side of Logan’s bed.
“I’m not from Neptune,” Dr. Lake began haltingly, and Veronica and Logan looked at each other.
Um, okay?
“I grew up in Seattle. My dad is chief of surgery at a major hospital. If you knew anything about medicine, you’d know who he was. He is to the medical community what your dad is to everyone else.” The young doctor stared at the wall over Logan’s head. “So all of the trips to emergency rooms that we made when I was growing up, my dad would just chat up the doctors on-call and no one ever questioned the excuses he gave for…whatever was wrong with me. That was when we went, of course. The man was a world-renowned surgeon. A lot of things he just fixed on his own.” Logan and Veronica were silent, transfixed by the unexpected tale.
“The first time he ever said he was proud of me was when I got accepted into medical school. Three years later I told him I was going into trauma medicine and he hit me. I was 25 years old and my father hit me because he thought having his son be a lowly ER doc would be an embarrassment to the family.” He looked directly at Logan for the first time since he had turned away from the door. “That was eight years ago and I haven’t spoken to him since. It took me 25 years, but I finally had enough. He’s never seen his grandson and I can’t imagine that he ever will.” He looked away again. “I wonder sometimes, if even one of those ER doctors had said something, would my life have been different? It’s one of the reasons I went into this field.” His gaze again fell on the boy in the hospital bed.
“Look, Logan, I saw your x-rays. I know this isn’t your first visit to an emergency room and I get why you had your girlfriend tell everyone that you got hurt in a bar fight. I get it-and I’m not going to report anything. Technically there’s nothing to report, right? But someday, you might need someone to testify for you-about what really happened here, about what your x-rays mean-and if that day ever comes, I want you to know that you can call me. Not that you ever will, but the offer is still there.” Dr. Lake took out his card and handed it to Veronica.
Dr. Robert Lake, M.D.
“Maybe if someone had offered something as simple as that…” He shook himself. “But who knows? The past is the past, right? I want you to know, though-the best thing I ever did was marry my wife. Any progress I’ve made in the last eight years is because of her. So-“ and he looked at Veronica, “-I think you’re already in better shape than I was at your age. You guys call me if you need anything, okay?” Veronica and Logan nodded dumbly.
The doctor turned and exited the room.
“Wow,” said Logan.
“Did that really just happen?” asked Veronica.
“I think it did,” said Logan, not even trying to hide his awe.
Any further discussion was curtailed by the sudden arrival of Keith Mars, carrying a breakfast burrito.
“All right, you two! Ready to blow this taco stand?” he called out with his usual gusto.
Logan and Veronica just smiled.
*
It took a good bit of maneuvering to get Logan to the Mars’ apartment and to then make him comfortable. It wasn’t just the doctor’s orders that had them doing their best to keep Logan’s arm flush against his chest-any time his arm moved in the slightest bit, he grimaced in pain. In the end, they ended up moving the hurt teenager at the speed of an anemic snail.
Once they got Logan inside, the couch was out of the question, so Keith gave up his bed to the invalid and took the couch himself. Veronica was willing to give up her room, but Keith quickly established that that simply wasn’t going to happen. At least he said it with a smile.
It was never a consideration to take Logan back to his own home and Aaron was neither contacted nor consulted about his son’s recuperation. Keith and Veronica had long since discussed Logan’s desire to keep his abuse out of the press, where it would surely end up were it to ever be reported to the police.
By the time everything was arranged and ordered, Logan settled as comfortably as was humanly possible and then medicated against the pain resulting from all the jostling, it was dinner time. Keith and Veronica had a subdued meal around the island in the middle of their kitchen, both of them emotionally and physically exhausted from the day’s exertions.
-
Logan didn’t sleep much that night. He was in too much pain to fall asleep, even with the Percocet taking the edge off. On the rare occasions when he did start to nod off, that’s usually when Veronica or Keith came in to make sure that their patient wasn’t sleeping too deeply.
Memories danced in Logan’s brain to offbeat music with no tune, following no pattern and making little sense, and Logan hurt too much to try to make sense of the threads of events gone by. All he could do was sit there while the thoughts and recollections danced around him.
Lying on the floor of his room, he just wanted the pain to go away... All he could picture beyond the stabs of agony and the ceaseless throbbing was Veronica…he was supposed to call her. He had to call her... Where was his phone? He couldn’t move his left arm to get to it. Why not his right arm? Why didn’t he think of that one first? Had he dialed Veronica’s number? He wasn’t sure…but then she was there, crying…
…she couldn’t call the ambulance…no…they couldn’t find him here, not like this, the press would eat it up, no…
He knew hospital smells. He was seven years old the first time...it was the third time he’d been hurt, the first visit to an ER, though… How could his dad do this to him? He hadn’t meant to color on the wall. The surgical needle with the ugly blue thread both terrified and fascinated him…
…he saw it again when he was nine…it wasn’t his arm this time, though, it was on the back of his head.
“Will I have a scar, Doc?”
“Only if you join the military and get an ugly haircut.”
There went his military career.
…he could hear Veronica yelling to him that she was there. So many things hurt…it wasn’t usually this bad…but Veronica was here, so things would be okay, wouldn’t they…
…his father’s foot was coming down on his hand…
“Logan?”
He flinched, making his left shoulder throb and ache anew. The only male around with a deep voice was his father.
“Logan, it’s Keith.”
Come on, Echolls. No one was ever gonna think that Aaron Echolls and Keith Mars sounded alike.
His eyes fluttered open.
“What time is it?” he asked, trying to focus his attention on Veronica’s father. The pull of the past was incredibly strong.
“About two. How are you holding up?”
Logan sighed and looked at the older man’s nightstand on which sat his prescriptions and a glass of water.
“Probably time for another one of those.”
“What hurts the most?”
Logan was momentarily nonplussed. No one ever asked things like that.
“Uh, I guess my shoulder,” he gestured to his strapped-down left arm.
Keith had already gotten a pill out and helped the pain-soaked teenager wash it down with the water.
Logan couldn’t help but wish that he had an Absolut chaser, but he was willing to take a non-abusive father figure in exchange for the alcohol.
“Thanks, Mr. Mars.”
Keith put his hand on Logan’s good shoulder. The three of them had quickly discovered that any time Logan’s left side was jostled, great pain resulted, so his two visitors did their best to stay on the right side of the bed.
“I’m happy to be able to help, Logan. Don’t give it another thought,” and with that, Keith went back to the living room and Logan again slipped into memory.
”Don’t give it another thought.” How was he supposed to do that? A father figure that he wasn’t afraid would hit him? That helped him and expected nothing in return?
And the doctor. He had been right. Logan was never going to call him, but just to have something like that offered… In all of his visits to all of the hospitals, no one had ever done that… Even his teacher… And the doctor understood. He had been through the same thing. Unbelievable…someone actually understood what it was like…
…it had to be his fault, though…Aaron doing this much damage this time…how could it not be?
“GET OUT!”…Aaron’s eyes…he knew that he had gone too far this time…his father knew that he had stepped over the line…
Veronica hadn’t seen the look…she had been so angry…the realization had been there, though…first when he saw how badly his son was injured and then when Veronica had gone all postal on him…
…his dad had gone too far and he knew it…
…the foot was coming down, down, down towards his hand…
Logan was ready to wake up from the nightmare that wouldn’t end.
-
Across the hall, Veronica looked forward to every ring of her alarm. Every time she closed her eyes, the image of Logan crumpled on his bedroom floor planted itself on the movie screen of her mind. The worst, though, came after her 3:00 wake-up visit.
Logan was tired and in pain and it was all that Veronica could do not to break down crying in front of him. She had already cried more in the past 24 hours than she had in the past year, but the events of the previous day had been more deeply terrifying than anything she could have imagined.
When Veronica went back to bed after this visit, her dream was different. This time, it wasn’t Logan’s bloody face alone that stormed through Veronica’s dreamscape. Superimposed over the face of the man she loved was that of the girl she had called best friend for three years. Until her subconscious matched Lilly’s blood-soaked visage to Logan’s, Veronica had been able to ignore the deepest-seated reason for her terror. Her subconscious knew, though, and some things couldn’t be ignored.
Veronica shot up, flinging out of sleep, soaked in sweat with her heart tripping at the speed of a hummingbird. Knowing that Logan was having as much trouble sleeping as she was, Veronica crept out of bed and into her father’s room.
She pulled back the covers and slid between the sheets on Logan’s right side. As Logan’s arm came around her, she thought she heard him whisper her name. She snuggled in closer, carefully sliding her arm over his tightly-taped chest.
For the first time that night, each of them fell into a dreamless, restful sleep.
*
The first visitor showed up shortly before lunch. Keith escorted Wallace into the convalescent’s room. Logan raised an eyebrow at Veronica, lying on the bed next to him.
“What? He called this morning and I thought he might want to join us for lunch.”
“Uh-huh,” Logan said, unconvinced. He turned to Wallace, unable to hide his smile. “Hey, Diddy, how’re you doin’?”
“Better than you,” Wallace deadpanned, and Keith, Logan and Veronica laughed.
“You guys want anything special with lunch?” Keith asked as he headed for the kitchen.
Veronica looked at both of the boys, who shook their heads.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Veronica’s dad smiled and left the room.
Wallace stood at the end of the bed.
“Seriously, Logan, what happened?” he asked, incredulous.
Veronica took a breath, but Logan continued on as if nothing was amiss.
“I was having a drink at a bar, some guy recognized me and starting talking crap about my mom-big shock, right? Turns out he had friends.” Logan gestured towards his many bandages. “Fortunately I don’t remember most of it.”
“Dude, that blows,” observed his friend.
“He’ll be staying out of bars now, won’t he?” Veronica put her arm around Logan and kissed him on the cheek.
“Yes, dear,” he responded with the air of one repeating something for the umpteenth time.
“So what are you two watching?” asked Wallace as he pulled up a chair next to the bed. Logan and Veronica had paused a movie on Keith’s TV when Wallace came in.
Veronica turned to look at Logan, who managed to look embarrassed.
“What?” Wallace looked from one to the other. “Marshall got you two watching porn again?”
Veronica snorted. “Hardly.”
Logan rolled his eyes. “I like it, okay?! What’s the big deal?”
“I wouldn’t know, would I?” Wallace pointed out dryly.
Logan gave Wallace a look. “Say Anything. You know, John Cusack holding the boom box on Ione Skye’s lawn? We’re watching Say Anything.”
“And you recommended this?” Wallace had the beginning of a smile on his face, which he quickly wiped away. “Cool. Did I miss anything?” Their friend settled into the chair and faced the TV.
Veronica wanted to crawl over Logan and give her best friend a big, smooshy hug.
Keith brought the three of them sandwiches and tomato soup and they ate quietly as Diane Cort fell in love with Lloyd Dobler.
After the movie ended, Wallace got up, saying he had to get home to help with Sunday dinner.
“Mom has a thing about it.”
“And Logan needs a nap.”
Her boyfriend, not wanting to admit how sore his shoulder-along with everything else-was, let Veronica’s comment slide with a tired roll of the eyes.
Sure enough, shortly after Wallace left and moments after he took a Percocet, Logan was out cold.
Veronica went into the living room, kissed her sleeping dad on the forehead and went to take a nap of her own.
-
Keith woke up to a knock on the door. Trying to wake himself more fully as he shuffled across the room, he opened the door to Neptune’s strangest pairing: Weevil and Meg Navarro, the latter of whom was carrying a plastic-wrapped plate.
“Eli, Meg,” Keith blinked and stepped back to allow them in.
As the couple crossed the threshold, Meg explained their presence.
“Wallace called and told us what happened. He said that Logan and Veronica might appreciate some visitors.”
Keith checked his watch. Logan had been asleep for about three hours. It was probably a good time to wake everyone up. Inviting the Navarros to have a seat, Veronica’s dad went into his own room to find, once again, his daughter sleeping in Logan’s arms.
Keith sighed as he moved to stand over the slumbering couple. Logan had physical scars, but Veronica’s were just as real. He wished heartily that he could take away both of their pain, but he could no more easily mend his daughter’s wounds than he could repair her boyfriend’s broken bones.
“Logan, Veronica,” he said softly. Neither of them moved and Keith furrowed his brow-Veronica was sleeping through something? Anything? Veronica was the world’s lightest sleeper, which is why Back-up didn’t sleep in her room.
Something to ponder.
He called more loudly. “Logan. Veronica.”
The couple stirred and Logan blinked his eyes.
“Mr. Mars?” he asked sleepily.
“You have visitors.”
Logan gently shook Veronica, asleep in his arms. “Veronica, somebody’s here.”
“Who?” she murmured.
“Eli and Meg,” filled in Keith.
“What time is it?” asked Logan.
Keith checked his watch again. “About 6:30.”
“Okay, send ‘em in,” said Logan, struggling to sit up.
Veronica shot up, fully awake. “Careful!” And she put her hands behind Logan to help him get situated.
Leaving his daughter to help their invalid patient, Keith went into the other room to send in the young married couple.
Weevil was looking decidedly uncomfortable as he and Meg entered the bedroom a few moments later. Clearly, coming over had not been his idea.
The two of them didn’t stay long. Meg delivered the cookies; Weevil looked uncomfortable; well-wishes were exchanged. Saying they didn’t want to tire Logan out, Meg and Weevil were headed for the door when they ran into Mac, who was raising her hand to knock on the entrance.
“Let me guess,” said Keith, who was standing behind Meg, “Wallace called you.”
*
As Veronica went to sleep that night, she reviewed in her mind everything that they had to do the next day. She was skipping school and she and Logan were going to both an orthopedic specialist and an orthodontic surgeon. She was reasonably confident that those two things would wipe out Logan’s strength for the day-and quite possibly her own-and they would sleep the rest of Monday.
In the back of her mind, Veronica hoped that such mundane thoughts as making a list of things to do would stave off nightmares of crumpled bodies, but it was a faint hope.
-
“Logan was pretty banged up,” said Meg as she walked back into the bedroom after washing her face in preparation for bed.
Weevil was already under the covers, waiting for his wife to join him. “Yeah, somebody got him pretty good.”
“You call that good?” Meg asked with a smirk as she climbed into bed.
“Someone’s feeling feisty,” Weevil said as he immediately pulled Meg into his arms and pressed his lips to hers.
Meg rolled them so that she was on top and sat up, straddling her husband.
“You have a problem with feisty?”
“Hell, no,” answered her husband as Meg leaned down to capture his lips in hers.
Feisty was fine and dandy.
-
Wallace was finishing up the supper dishes when Alicia hung up the phone.
“Is everything all right?” he asked his mom.
“Yeah, Keith says Logan’s asleep and he and Veronica will be going to the doctor tomorrow. It sounds like everything’s under control. He also said that Meg, Weevil and Mac all came by.” She gave her son a significant look.
“What?” Wallace affected innocence.
His mom began drying the dishes that her son had washed.
“I’m just wondering why you called your friends to go visit Logan. You had a reason, right?”
Wallace sighed as he picked up a dirty plate.
“The ‘09ers deserted Logan when they found out that he was dating Veronica. I wanted him to know that he still has friends, that’s all.” Wallace tried to sound nonchalant, but it was obvious that this was important to him.
Alicia dried her hands and leaned over, giving her son a kiss on the forehead.
“You’re a good man, Wallace Fennel.”
-
Mac was lying in the dark quiet of her room, staring at the ceiling. When she was in third grade, her best friend had been a girl named Camille Stanley. Camille was the only person Mac had ever met who was more reserved and quiet than she was, and the two of them had bonded over their shared status as outsiders at recess.
Her friendship with Camille had opened up a new world for Mac. Now in possession of a best friend, Mac was introduced to overnight sleepovers, ghost stories told under blankets with only a flashlight to scare away the monsters, inside jokes used to exclude others during class and a host of other things that she had seen before but never experienced.
She had gradually noticed, though, that all of their sleepovers were at the Mackenzie house. No matter how much she asked, Camille always had some reason why they couldn’t stay the night at her friend’s house. And there were other things.
Even in warm weather, Camille invariably wore long sleeves. When other students bragged about their parents and what they did, Camille sat silent. All Mac was able to learn was that the quiet brunette’s parents were still married and she had an older sister who went to the middle school. That was it. Camille never volunteered information about her family. And as time went on, Mac’s friend found more and more reasons to spend the night, until by Christmastime, Camille was spending almost every weekend at the Mackenzies.
Mac had known that something was wrong, but she was only eight, so it had taken her a little while to clue in to what it was. Camille had missed the first three days of school after the Christmas holiday, which Mac found to be weird as Camille had spent most of the vacation at Mac’s house. Mac tried to call her friend repeatedly, but the number was “no longer in service”. Finally, she worked herself up into such a frenzy that her mom agreed to take her to Camille’s house to check on her friend.
Camille answered the door wearing a tattered, dirty tank top, short-shorts and a black eye. It was the first time Mac had ever seen her friend without three-quarter or full-length sleeves and it was instantly apparent why. Camille’s arms were covered in bruises and half-healed cuts and burns.
“Who’s at the door?!” a male voice bellowed, the words not fully enunciated.
Mac could see behind Camille into the Stanley’s living room. The shouter, who Mac was guessing was Mr. Stanley, was sitting on the family couch wearing grungy underwear and a ratty wife-beater.
“Who is it, Camille?!” the unkempt man yelled again. “Don’t make me come over there!”
Camille flinched and looked urgently at Mac.
“You have to go,” her friend whispered intensely, already shutting the door.
“You haven’t been in school. I wanted to make sure you were okay,” she tried to explain as Camille shooed her away.
“I’m fine. You have to go.” The words barely made it out of Camille’s mouth before the door shut in Mac’s face.
That was the last time Mac ever saw her best friend. Mac’s mom had called the police to report suspected abuse, but the house was deserted by the time a social worker got there early the following week. Only eight years old, Mac had been wracked with guilt about letting her very first best-friend-ever down. She desperately tried to figure out what she could have done differently, how she could have helped her friend. As she got older, she came to understand that there was nothing she could have done, but she never fully rid herself of the guilt she felt over Camille’s disappearance.
To help herself over the years, she had learned as much as she could about child abuse: the parents and people who committed it, the children who endured it, the laws that governed it, the signs and a host of other things. She had done it slowly and steadily, avoiding immersing herself in it all at once, telling herself that she just wanted to be aware, to be knowledgeable.
And still she had failed. Again.
She had never picked up on the fact that Logan was a victim of abuse, not until she saw him lying in Keith Mars’ bed, bandaged and bruised. She knew it when he gave her that crap story about a bar fight, when Veronica blinked back tears as she lied for her boyfriend, when Logan winced in pain when his left shoulder was jostled. Mac wasn’t even sure how she knew, but she did.
Aaron Echolls, heroic action star, was an abusive parent. And Logan Echolls, obligatory psychotic jackass, was an abused child.
Mac rolled onto her side and her tears slipped down her face and onto her pillow, wetting it through.
Part 2
Author: jacedesbff
Pairing/Character: Logan/Veronica, Meg/Weevil, ensemble
Word Count: 11,558 (no frakkin' lie!)
Rating: PG-13 for mild language and sexual situations
Summary: AU from the Pilot; this chapter takes place during the timeframe where “A Trip to the Dentist” would have happened
Spoilers: Familiarity with Season 1 required.
Disclaimer: Rob Thomas owns all.
All previous chapters may be found at my LJ.
A/N: First let me say that this chapter is longer than any other WIP--in total--that I've done. Next, I wouldn’t look for any correlations to canon here. My ongoing thanks to my most wondermous beta, candlewaxdreams, even though she called me several unladylike words because this chapter made her cry. Humph! Anyhoo, hope you enjoy! :-)
X-posted all over creation. I would love to hear your comments on this!
Veronica drove to the hospital with her heart in her throat. She could barely swallow, her adrenaline was rushing so fast that she could hardly catch her breath, and when she screeched to a halt in front of the ER doors, she couldn’t for the life of her recall a single traffic light or stop sign.
Logan had been silent throughout the wild trip. Veronica had grabbed a pillow and a throw blanket out of his room on the way to the car. Wrapped up in them, Logan didn’t even seem conscious once he sank into the LeBaron’s passenger seat and Veronica had caught more glances of her battered boyfriend than she had of the road.
Turning on her emergency blinkers, Veronica helped Logan-who fortunately was conscious-out of her car and in through the sliding doors.
“We need help!” she cried loudly as they went in. Luckily, it was apparently slow for a Friday night in the Neptune ER and a nurse came running almost immediately with a wheelchair.
Veronica tried to follow, but the admit secretary stopped her, insisting that someone provide Logan’s information and fill out his admission papers. Veronica brushed the woman off, grabbing the clipboard that the woman was waving and taking off down the hall in the direction that Logan had been pushed.
She found him surrounded by medical personnel in a curtained-off area, already hooked up to frighteningly beeping machines that looked like something off of ER.
“How is he? What’s wrong?” Her demands might have held more weight had she not sounded like she was about to burst into tears any minute, which she was.
“What happened?!” yelled the doctor who seemed to be in charge.
“I think he was in a bar fight.” The lie rolled off of Veronica’s tongue without conscious thought or effort. What the hell? “He called me and managed to get out an address downtown. That’s all I know.” Seriously, where had that come from?
“I need a liter of O negative, stat!” yelled a woman. “He’s going into shock!”
“Logan! It’s okay, I’m here!” shouted Veronica over the din of medical jargon and electronic shrieking.
“Miss, we’re going to have to ask you to get out of the way,” said a nurse firmly as she pushed Veronica to the other side of the curtain.
“But-“ Veronica started to argue, but the nurse looked her in the eye.
“Let us do our jobs.”
The young woman’s shoulders sagged and she backed off. The nurse disappeared behind the curtains.
Veronica turned to see that she was in the center aisle of a large ER. She realized for the first time that she was still holding the admit secretary’s clipboard. All her mind could process, though, were the horrifying sounds and words coming from Logan’s team of doctors. Veronica blindly stumbled to the other side of the room and slid down the wall. She pulled her knees to her chest and finally allowed the tears to cascade down her face.
This let loose the floodgates and for the next several minutes, all Veronica could do was cry-the hard, wracking sobs of the desperate and terrified.
A nurse slid open the curtain to Logan’s examination area and Veronica’s bright red, puffy eyes looked up to see what was happening. The older woman looked over to the crumpled figure and turned to say something to someone still hidden by the curtain. A doctor who looked much too young for Veronica’s tastes emerged and crossed to her. As he went to crouch down, he turned back to the nurse.
“Anna, will you please get 10 cc’s of Valium and a wet washcloth for-“ he looked questioningly at the girl on the floor.
“Veronica,” she filled in, her voice shaky and weak.
Was that her voice? Why did her voice sound like that?
The doctor’s voice was calming and strong. “Veronica, I want you to sit up here,” he gestured to the examination bed to her left, “so I can take a look at you.”
“Why?” she asked blankly. “How’s Logan?”
“Come on,” he took her hand and pulled her up. “I’ll tell you about Logan once you’re up on the bed.”
“Okay,” she said numbly, climbing up onto the bed as the nurse returned with a syringe and a washcloth. “What’s that for?” she demanded, strength returning to her voice as she pulled away from the nurse and the needle. She noted that the medical-type people were leaving Logan’s curtained-off bed and she sat up, suddenly frantic. “What about Logan?! Why are they leaving?!”
The doctor nodded to the nurse, who took Veronica’s arm and gave her the shot. Despite herself, Veronica became more relaxed, finally lying back against the pillows on the bed. She turned beseeching eyes towards the doctor. “Logan?”
“He’s going to be fine.” Veronica felt herself relax even more. “He has a concussion and we’re sending him up for an MRI. We’re also going to get x-rays of his shoulder, hand and ribs. You saw his left shoulder, which is dislocated and there’s his hand-he has a few broken fingers. It also sounds like he might have a few broken ribs from the way he’s breathing.” He kept on in that calm, steady voice. “We’ve stabilized his blood pressure, though, and he didn’t lose as much blood as it looks like. One of his teeth was knocked loose-between that and the cut on his forehead-well, you have to realize that head wounds bleed more than most.” The chemically calm blonde nodded as though she understood. “He’s going to be okay, Veronica. We’re going to check everything out and get him bandaged up, but things look good. It’s just a lot at once. You said it was a bar fight?”
Secure in the knowledge that Logan was going to be okay, coming down off of the adrenaline high and aided by Valium, Veronica was starting to fade into unconsciousness.
“Uh, yeah…” she said, as she fought sleep to answer his question. “I think so…”
“That must have been some fight,” noted the doctor with a skeptical look. “I’d like to see the other guy.”
“So would I,” said Veronica, and with that last truth, she fell asleep.
-
The world started to fade in and Veronica heard a faraway voice say, “Your daughter was in mild shock. We gave her a light sedative.”
Her dad’s voice asked the question that she herself was struggling to form in her mind. “And Logan?”
Veronica desperately fought off the pull of sleep to hear the answer.
“Normally we wouldn’t tell anyone outside the family, but since the only person Mr. Echolls keeps calling for is your daughter and we haven’t been able to get a hold of his father…” There was a pause before the voice continued. “His MRI came up clean. He has a mild concussion, but he’ll be okay in a day or two. He’ll also have to see an oral surgeon about his molar-it took a pretty hard blow.”
Yet another reason to rip Aaron’s face off. The voice was continuing to catalogue her lover’s many wounds, but sleep was already carrying Veronica off to oblivion.
-
When she woke again, the clock on the wall read 7:03. She presumed it was a.m., hoping against hope that she hadn’t slept for over 36 hours. She looked around. Apparently she was still in the Neptune General ER. Where was Logan?! Suddenly frantic, she sat up to find someone who could help her.
“Veronica?” her dad had been sleeping in a chair next to her hospital bed.
“Dad! How’s Logan?”
“He’s fine, honey,” Keith pushed her back down. “They kept him overnight for observation. He’s in a room right outside the ER. The doctor said you were in pretty rough shape last night.” He looked carefully into his daughter’s eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Veronica couldn’t help but flinch. She was mortified by her actions the previous evening.
“I’m fine, Dad. Really. Right now I just need to go see Logan.”
Keith sighed. He had expected as much. “Come on,” and he helped his daughter off of the gurney. Veronica moved stiffly, having slept on a foam mat excuse for a mattress all night. Her dad led her down the main ER hall to a glassed-off private room.
“Logan!” Veronica said as she rushed to his side. Logan’s eyes fluttered open. There was a bandage covering his left temple. In addition, the young man’s face was puffy, particularly the left side, which was a mosaic of unattractive colors-the bruises looking even worse this morning. His left arm was strapped to his chest, encased in a sling. The pinky and ring fingers on his right hand were pinned together in a green and silver splint, and the rest of his fingers and the back of that palm were nasty shades of red, purple and green. All in all, Logan looked like he’d been on the losing end of the very bad far fight that Veronica falsely claimed had injured him.
If only that were the case.
“What’s this I hear about you getting tranked last night?” he asked in a muffled voice as a slight smile crossed his bruised features, replaced almost as quickly by an expression of pain.
“Sorry,” he said, “hurts to smile.”
Her heart literally ached.
“Do we know when you get to go home?” asked Veronica, aiming the question at both Logan and her dad.
“The doctor should be here pretty soon to check up on him. Nothing needs long-term care, so if things look okay, he should be able to go home later this morning.”
Veronica’s shoulders sagged and she let out a sigh of relief. Logan’s right hand moved from its bed of pillows to check the bandage on his head.
“In the meantime, I’m going to go see if I can get us some breakfast,” Keith told them. “I was awake all night, unlike the two of you, which means I, at least, am starving. Either of you want anything?” Both of the teenagers shook their heads no and with a kiss to Veronica’s forehead, Keith headed out the door in search of sustenance.
As the door shut behind him, the curtain-covered glass once again gave Logan and Veronica at least the illusion of privacy. Veronica pulled up a rolling stool to sit next to the boy she loved.
She took his right hand in hers. “How are you really doing?”
Logan’s eyes moved to stare at the ceiling.
“I’ll live,” he muttered.
“What happened?” she asked softly and Logan sighed.
The door opened behind her.
“That was quick. Is there a burrito stand in the-” she said as she turned around, only to stop mid-sentence at the sight of Aaron Echolls entering Logan’s hospital room.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier-“
“Get out.” Veronica cut him off.
“I was in L.A.-“
“If you don’t get out, I will start yelling so loudly that every person in the ER and a five-mile radius will come running. Then I will keep yelling about how Logan really ended up like this. I told the doctors that he got into a bar fight. I did that because I love Logan, not because I give a rat’s ass about you. And I will NOT put up with the hypocrisy of you waltzing in here like it isn’t your fault in the first place!” Veronica’s voice got louder throughout the speech and as she reached the last of her breath, Aaron put his hands up in a placating gesture to quiet her.
“GET OUT!” Veronica screamed, and Aaron, not being nearly as stupid as his movies might imply, exited the room without a backward glance.
Veronica was breathing heavily when she turned to look at Logan, frozen in his hospital bed.
“I’m sorry if that was over the line-“ she started.
Logan grabbed her hand to silence her.
“It’s been a long time since somebody loved me enough to stand up to him. Don’t apologize, okay?”
Veronica practically threw herself over her boyfriend’s bruised and trussed-up body, wary of hurting his left shoulder or the cracked ribs.
“I was so scared,” her tears wet Logan’s ugly blue-and-white-patterned gown as it muffled her words against his chest. “I saw you…I was so scared.”
“Shhh,” he whispered into her hair as his three good fingers gently stroked her head. “I’m all right. It’s gonna be okay.”
Veronica hitched herself up onto the bed to lie next to him, trying not to jostle him too badly as she did so. “It’s not okay, Logan. It’s not. This is not okay.”
Logan sighed, her head rising in tandem on his chest. “I’m going to make him pay. I won’t ask you for your help. I know he’s your dad and you have to love him or-whatever, but I don’t care. He’s going to pay for this, okay? I don’t want to go sneaking around behind your back, but I have to do this.”
She raised her head from Logan’s now-damp torso. He looked at her, at a loss for words, before soundlessly nodding his head.
The door opened and Veronica jumped off of the bed to stand beside her boyfriend, wiping her eyes quickly as she did so. The young-looking doctor from the night before closed the door behind him.
“Hello, Mr. Echolls. I’m Dr. Lake. We met last night, but I doubt you remember the introduction.” Dr. Lake crossed to stand on the other side of Logan’s bed.
“Not really,” said Logan dryly.
“I remember!” Veronica said perkily. Both Logan and the doctor gave her odd looks. “Hey, I got drugs, too,” she added sheepishly.
The doctor turned his eyes back to the patient as said patient gave Veronica one last look that clearly said, Overcompensating much?
“You’re just about ready to go, but there are a few things we need to go over first,” the doctor went on as though Veronica had not just given her best sorority-girl cheerleader impression.
“Let me have it,” said Logan. “I’m ready to get back on the dance floor.”
Veronica held his damaged right hand and tried not to roll her eyes.
“You have a concussion. For the next 24 hours, you need to have someone around at all times when you’re sleeping. They need to wake you up every hour so that you don’t fall into too deep of a sleep.” Logan and Veronica both nodded.
“You have two breaks in your pinky finger and one in your ring finger. Make sure you don’t get the splint wet, and after you get out of the shower, you’ll need to have someone put it back on, because you won’t have full use of your left arm for seven to ten days. You’ll need to see an orthopedic specialist to determine what exactly the course of treatment will be for that. The MRI we took tells us that as things go, the damage to the muscles around your shoulder joint is relatively minor. Still, you have to be careful or it could easily get worse.” Dr. Lake pointed to the sling strapping down Logan’s left arm. “Keep that still,” he said firmly and he looked at Veronica. “I’m holding you responsible for making sure he doesn’t go bouncing that around. We’ll see you back here in a week to take the stitches out of your forehead.”
“How many?” Logan asked. In answer to Veronica’s silent question, he added, “I’m keeping a running total.”
“Three,” answered the doctor. “It was a small cut. My guess is the person you fought with wears a ring.”
Logan raised his eyebrows in a vague non-answer.
The doctor went on, giving them the lowdown on the injuries to Logan’s ribs. Apparently the tall teenager had to keep his torso taped up and wouldn’t be participating in any sports-including surfing-for the foreseeable future.
“One thing that you have to do in the next day or two is visit an oral surgeon. Your back molar is loose and your gums are heavily bruised-it needs to be looked at as soon as possible. There’s a list of surgeons that we recommend at the nurse’s station. And…that’s pretty much it,” summed up the doctor. “The details are all in your exit papers, but I needed to go over them with you first. Any questions before we let you go?”
Logan and Veronica shook their heads. They were going to be making a lot of trips to dentists and doctors, but it’s not like anything that the doctor had said was unexpected. In fact, it was really better than they had expected. Dr. Lake headed for the door. He got to it, but turned back around, crossing to stand by the side of Logan’s bed.
“I’m not from Neptune,” Dr. Lake began haltingly, and Veronica and Logan looked at each other.
Um, okay?
“I grew up in Seattle. My dad is chief of surgery at a major hospital. If you knew anything about medicine, you’d know who he was. He is to the medical community what your dad is to everyone else.” The young doctor stared at the wall over Logan’s head. “So all of the trips to emergency rooms that we made when I was growing up, my dad would just chat up the doctors on-call and no one ever questioned the excuses he gave for…whatever was wrong with me. That was when we went, of course. The man was a world-renowned surgeon. A lot of things he just fixed on his own.” Logan and Veronica were silent, transfixed by the unexpected tale.
“The first time he ever said he was proud of me was when I got accepted into medical school. Three years later I told him I was going into trauma medicine and he hit me. I was 25 years old and my father hit me because he thought having his son be a lowly ER doc would be an embarrassment to the family.” He looked directly at Logan for the first time since he had turned away from the door. “That was eight years ago and I haven’t spoken to him since. It took me 25 years, but I finally had enough. He’s never seen his grandson and I can’t imagine that he ever will.” He looked away again. “I wonder sometimes, if even one of those ER doctors had said something, would my life have been different? It’s one of the reasons I went into this field.” His gaze again fell on the boy in the hospital bed.
“Look, Logan, I saw your x-rays. I know this isn’t your first visit to an emergency room and I get why you had your girlfriend tell everyone that you got hurt in a bar fight. I get it-and I’m not going to report anything. Technically there’s nothing to report, right? But someday, you might need someone to testify for you-about what really happened here, about what your x-rays mean-and if that day ever comes, I want you to know that you can call me. Not that you ever will, but the offer is still there.” Dr. Lake took out his card and handed it to Veronica.
Dr. Robert Lake, M.D.
“Maybe if someone had offered something as simple as that…” He shook himself. “But who knows? The past is the past, right? I want you to know, though-the best thing I ever did was marry my wife. Any progress I’ve made in the last eight years is because of her. So-“ and he looked at Veronica, “-I think you’re already in better shape than I was at your age. You guys call me if you need anything, okay?” Veronica and Logan nodded dumbly.
The doctor turned and exited the room.
“Wow,” said Logan.
“Did that really just happen?” asked Veronica.
“I think it did,” said Logan, not even trying to hide his awe.
Any further discussion was curtailed by the sudden arrival of Keith Mars, carrying a breakfast burrito.
“All right, you two! Ready to blow this taco stand?” he called out with his usual gusto.
Logan and Veronica just smiled.
*
It took a good bit of maneuvering to get Logan to the Mars’ apartment and to then make him comfortable. It wasn’t just the doctor’s orders that had them doing their best to keep Logan’s arm flush against his chest-any time his arm moved in the slightest bit, he grimaced in pain. In the end, they ended up moving the hurt teenager at the speed of an anemic snail.
Once they got Logan inside, the couch was out of the question, so Keith gave up his bed to the invalid and took the couch himself. Veronica was willing to give up her room, but Keith quickly established that that simply wasn’t going to happen. At least he said it with a smile.
It was never a consideration to take Logan back to his own home and Aaron was neither contacted nor consulted about his son’s recuperation. Keith and Veronica had long since discussed Logan’s desire to keep his abuse out of the press, where it would surely end up were it to ever be reported to the police.
By the time everything was arranged and ordered, Logan settled as comfortably as was humanly possible and then medicated against the pain resulting from all the jostling, it was dinner time. Keith and Veronica had a subdued meal around the island in the middle of their kitchen, both of them emotionally and physically exhausted from the day’s exertions.
-
Logan didn’t sleep much that night. He was in too much pain to fall asleep, even with the Percocet taking the edge off. On the rare occasions when he did start to nod off, that’s usually when Veronica or Keith came in to make sure that their patient wasn’t sleeping too deeply.
Memories danced in Logan’s brain to offbeat music with no tune, following no pattern and making little sense, and Logan hurt too much to try to make sense of the threads of events gone by. All he could do was sit there while the thoughts and recollections danced around him.
Lying on the floor of his room, he just wanted the pain to go away... All he could picture beyond the stabs of agony and the ceaseless throbbing was Veronica…he was supposed to call her. He had to call her... Where was his phone? He couldn’t move his left arm to get to it. Why not his right arm? Why didn’t he think of that one first? Had he dialed Veronica’s number? He wasn’t sure…but then she was there, crying…
…she couldn’t call the ambulance…no…they couldn’t find him here, not like this, the press would eat it up, no…
He knew hospital smells. He was seven years old the first time...it was the third time he’d been hurt, the first visit to an ER, though… How could his dad do this to him? He hadn’t meant to color on the wall. The surgical needle with the ugly blue thread both terrified and fascinated him…
…he saw it again when he was nine…it wasn’t his arm this time, though, it was on the back of his head.
“Will I have a scar, Doc?”
“Only if you join the military and get an ugly haircut.”
There went his military career.
…he could hear Veronica yelling to him that she was there. So many things hurt…it wasn’t usually this bad…but Veronica was here, so things would be okay, wouldn’t they…
…his father’s foot was coming down on his hand…
“Logan?”
He flinched, making his left shoulder throb and ache anew. The only male around with a deep voice was his father.
“Logan, it’s Keith.”
Come on, Echolls. No one was ever gonna think that Aaron Echolls and Keith Mars sounded alike.
His eyes fluttered open.
“What time is it?” he asked, trying to focus his attention on Veronica’s father. The pull of the past was incredibly strong.
“About two. How are you holding up?”
Logan sighed and looked at the older man’s nightstand on which sat his prescriptions and a glass of water.
“Probably time for another one of those.”
“What hurts the most?”
Logan was momentarily nonplussed. No one ever asked things like that.
“Uh, I guess my shoulder,” he gestured to his strapped-down left arm.
Keith had already gotten a pill out and helped the pain-soaked teenager wash it down with the water.
Logan couldn’t help but wish that he had an Absolut chaser, but he was willing to take a non-abusive father figure in exchange for the alcohol.
“Thanks, Mr. Mars.”
Keith put his hand on Logan’s good shoulder. The three of them had quickly discovered that any time Logan’s left side was jostled, great pain resulted, so his two visitors did their best to stay on the right side of the bed.
“I’m happy to be able to help, Logan. Don’t give it another thought,” and with that, Keith went back to the living room and Logan again slipped into memory.
”Don’t give it another thought.” How was he supposed to do that? A father figure that he wasn’t afraid would hit him? That helped him and expected nothing in return?
And the doctor. He had been right. Logan was never going to call him, but just to have something like that offered… In all of his visits to all of the hospitals, no one had ever done that… Even his teacher… And the doctor understood. He had been through the same thing. Unbelievable…someone actually understood what it was like…
…it had to be his fault, though…Aaron doing this much damage this time…how could it not be?
“GET OUT!”…Aaron’s eyes…he knew that he had gone too far this time…his father knew that he had stepped over the line…
Veronica hadn’t seen the look…she had been so angry…the realization had been there, though…first when he saw how badly his son was injured and then when Veronica had gone all postal on him…
…his dad had gone too far and he knew it…
…the foot was coming down, down, down towards his hand…
Logan was ready to wake up from the nightmare that wouldn’t end.
-
Across the hall, Veronica looked forward to every ring of her alarm. Every time she closed her eyes, the image of Logan crumpled on his bedroom floor planted itself on the movie screen of her mind. The worst, though, came after her 3:00 wake-up visit.
Logan was tired and in pain and it was all that Veronica could do not to break down crying in front of him. She had already cried more in the past 24 hours than she had in the past year, but the events of the previous day had been more deeply terrifying than anything she could have imagined.
When Veronica went back to bed after this visit, her dream was different. This time, it wasn’t Logan’s bloody face alone that stormed through Veronica’s dreamscape. Superimposed over the face of the man she loved was that of the girl she had called best friend for three years. Until her subconscious matched Lilly’s blood-soaked visage to Logan’s, Veronica had been able to ignore the deepest-seated reason for her terror. Her subconscious knew, though, and some things couldn’t be ignored.
Veronica shot up, flinging out of sleep, soaked in sweat with her heart tripping at the speed of a hummingbird. Knowing that Logan was having as much trouble sleeping as she was, Veronica crept out of bed and into her father’s room.
She pulled back the covers and slid between the sheets on Logan’s right side. As Logan’s arm came around her, she thought she heard him whisper her name. She snuggled in closer, carefully sliding her arm over his tightly-taped chest.
For the first time that night, each of them fell into a dreamless, restful sleep.
*
The first visitor showed up shortly before lunch. Keith escorted Wallace into the convalescent’s room. Logan raised an eyebrow at Veronica, lying on the bed next to him.
“What? He called this morning and I thought he might want to join us for lunch.”
“Uh-huh,” Logan said, unconvinced. He turned to Wallace, unable to hide his smile. “Hey, Diddy, how’re you doin’?”
“Better than you,” Wallace deadpanned, and Keith, Logan and Veronica laughed.
“You guys want anything special with lunch?” Keith asked as he headed for the kitchen.
Veronica looked at both of the boys, who shook their heads.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Veronica’s dad smiled and left the room.
Wallace stood at the end of the bed.
“Seriously, Logan, what happened?” he asked, incredulous.
Veronica took a breath, but Logan continued on as if nothing was amiss.
“I was having a drink at a bar, some guy recognized me and starting talking crap about my mom-big shock, right? Turns out he had friends.” Logan gestured towards his many bandages. “Fortunately I don’t remember most of it.”
“Dude, that blows,” observed his friend.
“He’ll be staying out of bars now, won’t he?” Veronica put her arm around Logan and kissed him on the cheek.
“Yes, dear,” he responded with the air of one repeating something for the umpteenth time.
“So what are you two watching?” asked Wallace as he pulled up a chair next to the bed. Logan and Veronica had paused a movie on Keith’s TV when Wallace came in.
Veronica turned to look at Logan, who managed to look embarrassed.
“What?” Wallace looked from one to the other. “Marshall got you two watching porn again?”
Veronica snorted. “Hardly.”
Logan rolled his eyes. “I like it, okay?! What’s the big deal?”
“I wouldn’t know, would I?” Wallace pointed out dryly.
Logan gave Wallace a look. “Say Anything. You know, John Cusack holding the boom box on Ione Skye’s lawn? We’re watching Say Anything.”
“And you recommended this?” Wallace had the beginning of a smile on his face, which he quickly wiped away. “Cool. Did I miss anything?” Their friend settled into the chair and faced the TV.
Veronica wanted to crawl over Logan and give her best friend a big, smooshy hug.
Keith brought the three of them sandwiches and tomato soup and they ate quietly as Diane Cort fell in love with Lloyd Dobler.
After the movie ended, Wallace got up, saying he had to get home to help with Sunday dinner.
“Mom has a thing about it.”
“And Logan needs a nap.”
Her boyfriend, not wanting to admit how sore his shoulder-along with everything else-was, let Veronica’s comment slide with a tired roll of the eyes.
Sure enough, shortly after Wallace left and moments after he took a Percocet, Logan was out cold.
Veronica went into the living room, kissed her sleeping dad on the forehead and went to take a nap of her own.
-
Keith woke up to a knock on the door. Trying to wake himself more fully as he shuffled across the room, he opened the door to Neptune’s strangest pairing: Weevil and Meg Navarro, the latter of whom was carrying a plastic-wrapped plate.
“Eli, Meg,” Keith blinked and stepped back to allow them in.
As the couple crossed the threshold, Meg explained their presence.
“Wallace called and told us what happened. He said that Logan and Veronica might appreciate some visitors.”
Keith checked his watch. Logan had been asleep for about three hours. It was probably a good time to wake everyone up. Inviting the Navarros to have a seat, Veronica’s dad went into his own room to find, once again, his daughter sleeping in Logan’s arms.
Keith sighed as he moved to stand over the slumbering couple. Logan had physical scars, but Veronica’s were just as real. He wished heartily that he could take away both of their pain, but he could no more easily mend his daughter’s wounds than he could repair her boyfriend’s broken bones.
“Logan, Veronica,” he said softly. Neither of them moved and Keith furrowed his brow-Veronica was sleeping through something? Anything? Veronica was the world’s lightest sleeper, which is why Back-up didn’t sleep in her room.
Something to ponder.
He called more loudly. “Logan. Veronica.”
The couple stirred and Logan blinked his eyes.
“Mr. Mars?” he asked sleepily.
“You have visitors.”
Logan gently shook Veronica, asleep in his arms. “Veronica, somebody’s here.”
“Who?” she murmured.
“Eli and Meg,” filled in Keith.
“What time is it?” asked Logan.
Keith checked his watch again. “About 6:30.”
“Okay, send ‘em in,” said Logan, struggling to sit up.
Veronica shot up, fully awake. “Careful!” And she put her hands behind Logan to help him get situated.
Leaving his daughter to help their invalid patient, Keith went into the other room to send in the young married couple.
Weevil was looking decidedly uncomfortable as he and Meg entered the bedroom a few moments later. Clearly, coming over had not been his idea.
The two of them didn’t stay long. Meg delivered the cookies; Weevil looked uncomfortable; well-wishes were exchanged. Saying they didn’t want to tire Logan out, Meg and Weevil were headed for the door when they ran into Mac, who was raising her hand to knock on the entrance.
“Let me guess,” said Keith, who was standing behind Meg, “Wallace called you.”
*
As Veronica went to sleep that night, she reviewed in her mind everything that they had to do the next day. She was skipping school and she and Logan were going to both an orthopedic specialist and an orthodontic surgeon. She was reasonably confident that those two things would wipe out Logan’s strength for the day-and quite possibly her own-and they would sleep the rest of Monday.
In the back of her mind, Veronica hoped that such mundane thoughts as making a list of things to do would stave off nightmares of crumpled bodies, but it was a faint hope.
-
“Logan was pretty banged up,” said Meg as she walked back into the bedroom after washing her face in preparation for bed.
Weevil was already under the covers, waiting for his wife to join him. “Yeah, somebody got him pretty good.”
“You call that good?” Meg asked with a smirk as she climbed into bed.
“Someone’s feeling feisty,” Weevil said as he immediately pulled Meg into his arms and pressed his lips to hers.
Meg rolled them so that she was on top and sat up, straddling her husband.
“You have a problem with feisty?”
“Hell, no,” answered her husband as Meg leaned down to capture his lips in hers.
Feisty was fine and dandy.
-
Wallace was finishing up the supper dishes when Alicia hung up the phone.
“Is everything all right?” he asked his mom.
“Yeah, Keith says Logan’s asleep and he and Veronica will be going to the doctor tomorrow. It sounds like everything’s under control. He also said that Meg, Weevil and Mac all came by.” She gave her son a significant look.
“What?” Wallace affected innocence.
His mom began drying the dishes that her son had washed.
“I’m just wondering why you called your friends to go visit Logan. You had a reason, right?”
Wallace sighed as he picked up a dirty plate.
“The ‘09ers deserted Logan when they found out that he was dating Veronica. I wanted him to know that he still has friends, that’s all.” Wallace tried to sound nonchalant, but it was obvious that this was important to him.
Alicia dried her hands and leaned over, giving her son a kiss on the forehead.
“You’re a good man, Wallace Fennel.”
-
Mac was lying in the dark quiet of her room, staring at the ceiling. When she was in third grade, her best friend had been a girl named Camille Stanley. Camille was the only person Mac had ever met who was more reserved and quiet than she was, and the two of them had bonded over their shared status as outsiders at recess.
Her friendship with Camille had opened up a new world for Mac. Now in possession of a best friend, Mac was introduced to overnight sleepovers, ghost stories told under blankets with only a flashlight to scare away the monsters, inside jokes used to exclude others during class and a host of other things that she had seen before but never experienced.
She had gradually noticed, though, that all of their sleepovers were at the Mackenzie house. No matter how much she asked, Camille always had some reason why they couldn’t stay the night at her friend’s house. And there were other things.
Even in warm weather, Camille invariably wore long sleeves. When other students bragged about their parents and what they did, Camille sat silent. All Mac was able to learn was that the quiet brunette’s parents were still married and she had an older sister who went to the middle school. That was it. Camille never volunteered information about her family. And as time went on, Mac’s friend found more and more reasons to spend the night, until by Christmastime, Camille was spending almost every weekend at the Mackenzies.
Mac had known that something was wrong, but she was only eight, so it had taken her a little while to clue in to what it was. Camille had missed the first three days of school after the Christmas holiday, which Mac found to be weird as Camille had spent most of the vacation at Mac’s house. Mac tried to call her friend repeatedly, but the number was “no longer in service”. Finally, she worked herself up into such a frenzy that her mom agreed to take her to Camille’s house to check on her friend.
Camille answered the door wearing a tattered, dirty tank top, short-shorts and a black eye. It was the first time Mac had ever seen her friend without three-quarter or full-length sleeves and it was instantly apparent why. Camille’s arms were covered in bruises and half-healed cuts and burns.
“Who’s at the door?!” a male voice bellowed, the words not fully enunciated.
Mac could see behind Camille into the Stanley’s living room. The shouter, who Mac was guessing was Mr. Stanley, was sitting on the family couch wearing grungy underwear and a ratty wife-beater.
“Who is it, Camille?!” the unkempt man yelled again. “Don’t make me come over there!”
Camille flinched and looked urgently at Mac.
“You have to go,” her friend whispered intensely, already shutting the door.
“You haven’t been in school. I wanted to make sure you were okay,” she tried to explain as Camille shooed her away.
“I’m fine. You have to go.” The words barely made it out of Camille’s mouth before the door shut in Mac’s face.
That was the last time Mac ever saw her best friend. Mac’s mom had called the police to report suspected abuse, but the house was deserted by the time a social worker got there early the following week. Only eight years old, Mac had been wracked with guilt about letting her very first best-friend-ever down. She desperately tried to figure out what she could have done differently, how she could have helped her friend. As she got older, she came to understand that there was nothing she could have done, but she never fully rid herself of the guilt she felt over Camille’s disappearance.
To help herself over the years, she had learned as much as she could about child abuse: the parents and people who committed it, the children who endured it, the laws that governed it, the signs and a host of other things. She had done it slowly and steadily, avoiding immersing herself in it all at once, telling herself that she just wanted to be aware, to be knowledgeable.
And still she had failed. Again.
She had never picked up on the fact that Logan was a victim of abuse, not until she saw him lying in Keith Mars’ bed, bandaged and bruised. She knew it when he gave her that crap story about a bar fight, when Veronica blinked back tears as she lied for her boyfriend, when Logan winced in pain when his left shoulder was jostled. Mac wasn’t even sure how she knew, but she did.
Aaron Echolls, heroic action star, was an abusive parent. And Logan Echolls, obligatory psychotic jackass, was an abused child.
Mac rolled onto her side and her tears slipped down her face and onto her pillow, wetting it through.
Part 2