Fic: Great Expectations (Logan/Veronica) R
Title: Great Expectations (1/1)
Author: Kelli
Pairing/Character: Logan/Veronica
Word Count: 5,214
Rating: R
Summary: Greed comes in many different flavors, but it always hurts.
Spoilers: This is a missing scene from 2.13('Ain't No Magic Mountain High Enough), so everything up to that.
Warnings: The f-word flies around a few times, and there's some references to child abuse and alcoholism.
Note: This is my entry for the 7sins_7virtues challenge, and if you haven't figured it out by now, my word was greed. This is also pretty much my first Veronica Mars fic, or at least the first where I take on two main characters and actually make them talk. So, if I've royally messed them up, I apologize. And, I'd appreciate any comments or suggestions. Just remember, I'm new. Oh, and I need to thank Jen, my beta, for the massive amount of hand holding I required while writing this. And also, gigglynell for help with plot, characterization, and not committing me to a mental faicility before I could finish. Plus, before I forget, there are a few little snippets from the song Quiet by Rachael Yamagata found in this fic. Thanks for reading!
You can smell a memory, but can you taste one?
Icy chocolate with a warm, salty metallic tang.
That was the flavor of his tenth birthday.
He’d wanted a monkey, but got a bloody nose instead.
He hadn’t really intended to dump the milkshake, more like threaten, shake them up a bit, show he meant business.
But his mother wasn’t very good at driving a stick, and somewhere between the sudden lurching forward and what was supposed to be a slight tip of his cup, a gooey brown mess was made all over that fine leather interior.
When his face connected with the cool glass, his father’s hand clamping around his head, shoving him forward, he realized he’d asked for too much, gone too far.
“You greedy, little bastard!” Aaron raged, bashing his face against the window. “Look what you’ve done!”
Later that night, the belt taught him a lesson about greed.
Desiring more than you deserve will only bring pain.
Since then, he’d learned greed comes in many flavors.
But, it always hurts.
~
“Would that you could, spit out the memories.”
It was a tongue-in-cheek jab at Dick, sardonic and cutting, just as he preferred.
Melodically wry in his delivery, he thoroughly enjoyed dropping that one-liner, even if it was at Dick’s expense.
Especially if it was at Dick’s expense.
But there was more truth in that statement than he’d like to admit.
And while one girl’s kiss still lingered on his lips, it was another’s taste he couldn’t get out of his mouth.
Laced with lies and ulterior motives, the lip-lock with Hannah was a necessary evil, a means to an end. Even if it was incredibly sweet it left a sour after taste, befitting of the bitterness he harbored for her father, the situation that forced him to drastic measures, but mainly for himself.
This particular brand of greed could be labeled Desperation.
Hungry for the truth, he would stop at nothing to get it, to clear his name once and for all.
If that made him greedy, so be it.
Most people would probably say he was anyway, a generalized, outside observation based on the quality of his lifestyle. There could be some truth to it, because he would be stupid not to take advantage of his position. Let’s face it, as idealistic as you wished you could be, money was a necessary evil too.
But there were other things he longed for, that held greater value than a piece of paper.
“What’s with Dick?” Suddenly, Veronica was standing beside him.
“It’s not so much what’s with Dick, as what dick was Dick with.”
Casting him a perplexed sideways glance, she deadpanned, “And, how much wood could a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck could chuck wood?”
Smirking in spite of himself, Logan changed directions. “So, I hear the headlines tomorrow will read Veronica Mars,” raising his hands with a flourish, he made a sweeping gesture to accentuate her name, “Girl Detective Does It Again. Haven’t you earned your do-gooder merit badge by now?”
“No, that’s next week. This week it’s leatherwork and woodcarving.”
“What have you got against Catalina, anyway?”
“You can’t tell me you’re disappointed. Like you would even go on the Senior Trip.”
“Oh right, because I might be someone’s prison bitch by then.”
“You’re not going to jail, Logan.”
“And you’re not going to Catalina. Only this time you thought to cancel before the boat left.”
The words fell easily from his mouth, no venom behind them. Simply mocking her for the sake of it, he couldn't resist taking a jab, and she played right along.
“Yeah, well let’s hope you leave your GHB at home this time.”
“Touché.” He grinned, impressed. “And now that we’ve gotten the requisite rubbing of salt in old wounds out of the way, how goes the slushy business?”
“Yeah, about that,” crossing her arms, she mimicked his stance, leaning up against the car, “aren’t you in FBLA? Even Dick took his turn rubbing elbows with the little people. What’s your excuse?”
“Let’s just say I had more pressing business to deal with.”
“Ah yes, the hot date.”
“How many times do I have to say it? Rain check, Veronica.”
“Oh, I can hardly stand it,” she clapped her hands together, feigning enthusiasm, “the suspense! Waiting by the phone every night, hoping and praying that you’ll call. I just might have to clear my calendar.”
“Well, what are you doing right now?”
And these words tumbled from his mouth without difficulty, or much thought, surprising even himself to find he wasn’t joking this time.
Catching Veronica off guard, she stood, dazed, mouth gaping slightly, blinking a few times as if her vision was blurred.
“You know what,” he began, pushing away from the car, “just for-“
At the same time, Veronica answered, “Nothing.”
You know those moments, when everything slows and time stands still, as if some higher power is telling you to stop and pay attention, and you can’t move, or breathe, or think? The ones that only last a split second, but have the potential to alter your entire life?
If Logan had any idea what the fuck those were all about, he might’ve said he was in one. But right now, he was kind of busy trying to get his heart to start beating again.
Staring each other down, a million questions silently asked with just a look, neither knew what to say.
Fighting against the awkward air that hung between them, Logan took a step forward. Keeping his gaze trained on her, he fished through his pocket, then held up his keys, raising his eyebrows.
Tilting her head to the side, she hesitated, unable to answer.
But when Logan turned to go, Veronica followed.
~
You can hear words, but can you touch them?
Because there were so many things said, she’d like to take back, reach out, grab and shove back in.
And there were some things she wished she could say, pull from her heart and put into her mouth, make them come out.
When she was little, Veronica could always tell her mother was drunk by the way she’d ramble. Incoherent, random (and sometimes not so random) nothingness spilling from her lips as fast as the liquor passed through them.
If she ever did say anything that made sense, it was usually the wrong thing, the one tiny little tidbit no one should ever know. This, of course, happened at the most inopportune moments. At the grocery store, soccer matches, car pools and sleepovers. Thanks to dear old mom, her entire sixth grade class knew when Veronica ‘became a woman’.
And then there was the emotional roller coaster ride that wouldn’t stop until she passed out. Laughing hysterically one minute, sobbing the next, she would be manic, then drop like a rock into the depths of depression.
Lianne squandered emotions, gave away precious thoughts, all in an embarrassing display of inebriation.
Maybe that’s why Veronica was so stingy with her emotions, selfish with her words. She hoarded her thoughts and feelings, kept them close to the breast, lest she suffer the same humiliation.
Cutting comments and snarky comebacks were pre-approved for all conversations, facts and figures, clues and evidence, discussed readily at the appropriate times. But not much else ever found its way out.
Greed to Veronica was protection, a means of survival.
It kept her safe.
But it also kept her lonely.
~
It was too quiet.
The radio played a soft, slow tune, a forlorn female singing about too much time spent on closing doors.
“You may hate me, but I’ll remember to love you…”
But it was still too quiet, the silence making Veronica a little uneasy.
They’d been driving aimlessly for fifteen minutes, not one single syllable uttered between them, and she still had no clue what the hell she was doing here.
Except, not going on a hot date with Logan. Of that she was certain.
And if it was a date (which again, so not), it was definitely of the cold variety. South Pole. Penguins. Well below freezing temperatures in which frostbite could be had and igloos erected.
But it wasn’t a date, so atmospheric conditions were not even a factor.
“Are you cold?”
And, he speaks.
“No.”
“Because you’re shivering.”
“I am?”
In response, his gaze flickered down over the vicinity of her chest before returning to the road.
Confused, and about to reprimand him for ogling her, Veronica followed the path his eyes just took, realizing his pointed look had nothing to do with admiring her breasts (And really, when did it ever?).
Arms in a death grip around her torso, she’d cocooned herself into her green leather jacket.
Maybe a subliminal reaction to her recent frosty thoughts?
Or, was she shielding herself from a different kind of overexposure?
“I can turn on the heat,” Logan offered, his hand already leaving the wheel.
“No!” Quickly dropping her arms, her hand automatically shot out to intercept his.
Fingers collided, lingering, briefly remembering, as they involuntarily curled together before falling away.
“And it'll be just as quiet when I leave, as it was when I first got here…”
Silence returned, thick and heavy.
Logan drove, his hands now tightly wrapped around the steering wheel, stretching and whitening the skin over his knuckles.
Veronica stared out the window, but saw none of the scenery flashing by.
Why was she here?
Better yet, why did he ask her to be here?
“I don’t expect anything…”
She’d spent all day chasing a thief, managed to snag three in the process, redeem Jackie, up her chances at winning the Kane Scholarship, and save the Senior Trip.
But talking to Logan?
Impossible.
When was the last time they even had a real conversation?
Deep and meaningful wasn’t exactly in their current repertoire. They traded insults and information, nothing more.
For weeks after their breakup, Veronica didn’t speak to Logan. Or rather, she couldn’t. Not for lack of things to say, but for everything she feared she might.
Logan never stopped talking. To her, at her, around and over her. Whenever their paths crossed, he had something to profess, proclaim, declare or announce. The last word was always his.
The fact that it took discovering his affair with a married (Was woman appropriate for Kendall…? Hooker? Harlot? Lady of the evening? So many choices, but right now she was totally going with whore.) whore to restore the power of speech should’ve really set off some kind of ex-girlfriend alarm.
Warning! Green-eyed monster awakened. Cease and desist immediately.
But she went to Logan anyway, mouth loaded and ready to fire. And in her attempt to appear not responsible and unconcerned, business as usual, she was pretty sure she came off exactly the opposite.
The wrong th
ings came out at the wrong times, and the right things came out all wrong.
With Duncan, the silences were easy, comfortable, just like everything else.
Could that be why she took Logan up on his offer? Did she really miss Duncan that much, was she that desperate for company?
Looking down at the hand that just tangled with his, it looked empty, felt too light.
Was she just lonely, greedy for any kind of contact?
“What if I was someone different in your only history? Would you feel the same…?”
Or was this something else entirely?
Stealing a glance at Logan, she noticed his body was stiff, jaw set, as he concentrated too hard on the task at hand. Moonlight fell through the windshield, illuminating his face, softening his features in contrast to his rigid posture, in much the same way his actions could belie what was going on in his head and heart.
In that moment, she made a decision.
“Logan?”
“Yeah?” he replied, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead.
“How…” taking a deep breath, she forced the words out, “how are you?”
“Well, right at this very moment, I must say I’m a little hungry. I’m thinking burgers and fries, although carbs after six is so not good for my diet, but…”
“No,” she cut him off, “I mean how are you…doing?”
“You mean with Weevil and our little investigation?”
Damn, he was making this even harder. “No, no,” she shook her head, “I just mean you, in general…because with everything…are you…okay?”
The nonchalant grin slipped from his face, his eyes darting from her to the road, and back again. “Um…yeah,” his answer was slow, unsure, “I’m…hanging in, keepin’ the faith and all that.” Hesitating a beat, he added, “How ‘bout you?”
“I’m fine.”
“Really?”
His voice was soft, the inflection one she hadn’t heard in a while, the concerned expression he wore familiar as well.
She recognized this person, knew him well.
“I don’t know.”
Silence stretched between them again, but it was altogether different, weighted with something undefined, dense with a quiet possibility.
It was then she noticed his relaxed stance, hands resting in his lap, eyes not moving from her face.
They weren’t driving anymore.
Turning to peer out the windshield, she inquired, “Why did we stop? Where are…” her voice trailing off as she heard the sound of the waves lapping, saw the lights from the boats bobbing up and down in the water.
And in the distance, she saw the flag, flapping in the breeze, the lamp above it shining down so she could make out the words splattered across.
Albacore Club.
~
You can see love, touch, taste, smell, even hear it, but will it ever be yours?
The last time they kissed, really kissed, before the coldness and doubt, before he could feel her slipping away, it was a Wednesday.
After he was released from summer school hell, he’d picked her up and they went to the beach, strolling lazily along a quiet stretch away from prying eyes, kicking up sand and surf as they chased and played, until the bright afternoon sun gave way to a moonlit evening.
Stretched out on a blanket, a light breeze blowing, mingling with the lull of the ocean, a clichéd canopy of stars overhead, he couldn’t quite believe he was part of something so picture perfect.
But he could see her, lying beside him with no barriers between, her guard let down, a rarely seen soft vulnerability radiating from her, and when he reached for her she didn’t vanish into thin air like he always feared she might.
A few days before he’d professed his love, in an ‘I’m still thinking about it but only because I’m afraid you don’t feel the same’ kind of way, which she joked around as expected. He’d caught a glimmer of something in her eyes though, a flash of ‘maybe I do too’. Fleeting as it was, it was there.
This time when he told her, caressing her cheek reverently, the whispered I love you, Veronica rolling off his tongue without reservation, she offered no snappy comeback.
She didn’t say a word, but her lips did all the talking, crashing into his, kissing him fiercely, stealing his breath and taking his heart right along with it.
He knew he’d never get it back.
She tasted like saltwater, moonlight, sand and stars; a little like mustard and relish from the hotdog that was her dinner, and a lot like possibility. It was brimming with hope, overflowing with some day, and still he couldn’t get enough.
Not wanting to push, ask for too much too soon, he did his best to squelch his growing desire, backing off before things got out of control. He knew what would happen if he got greedy.
Drifting off to sleep while he held her, Veronica looked so small and fragile, so very breakable, and that’s when he knew what he had to do.
He’d been grappling with it for days, ever since Dick planted the seed of revenge, going back and forth between right and wrong, how far he should go. When Dick and Beaver showed up during lunch today with the gasoline and he saw Veronica’s suspicious reaction, he was ready to call off the whole thing.
Now, with her in his arms, a living, breathing reminder of all he had to lose, the choice was crystal clear.
The gunshot still ringing in his ears, he could feel the shards of glass raining down on his skin, her body pressed up against his, tensing in terror, her chest heaving, heart pounding with fear. And that look in her eyes, the horror on her face, how she didn’t cry, but her body seemed to shake with unshed tears, it was there every time he closed his eyes.
It was one thing when they came after him, a part of him could even understand it, but Veronica was a different story. They’d crossed a line the moment the bullet was fired.
Logically, he knew he should just give her up, sever the ties that bound her to him and put her in harm’s way. It was the noble thing, the right thing, but he was never very good at either of those.
Everyone that used to matter in his life was gone, each loss beyond his control, and Veronica was all he had left. He would do everything in his power to keep her.
A week later, his heart lying bloody and broken on the floor, Keith was slamming him up against a wall, telling him to leave and never come back, and that’s when he remembered the one lesson he never should’ve forgotten.
Greed comes in many different flavors, but it always hurts.
~
Certain it was malfunctioning, Logan really needed to check his autopilot.
Usually he just flipped the switch and went on his way, trusting it to get him through life relatively unscathed (which, now that he thought about it, maybe it never worked in the first place…).
But tonight, some of its choices were questionable, to say the least, and if she wasn’t looking at him like that, he would seriously consider overriding it.
Or maybe, he already had, and this was where he’d wanted to be all along.
Whatever the case might be, there was no going back so they might as well get on with it.
And they would, as soon as he figured out what the fuck he was thinking bringing her here.
Hannah.
This was all her fault.
And that goddamn Senior Trip to Catalina that never was.
Both brought back too many memories of first dates and broken promises.
The last time he’d attempted to woo a girl it’d been Veronica, only no underhanded tactics were employed.
It was an effort to be normal, a practice run in preparation for the real thing.
He was a fool to ever think he was capable of giving her that.
“Logan?” Veronica’s sharp, impatient tone cut through his thoughts.
“Huh?”
“You wanna tell me what we’re doing here?”
“Wouldn’t it be more fun to guess? I’ll give you clues. I hear you’re good at that kind of thing. I’m thinking of three words, six syllables.”
“And I’ve got two words for you,” she said, conveying her meaning with a flip of her wrist ending in an obscene hand gesture.
“Tsk, tsk, Veronica. We’re not playing charades.”
“Would you like me to spell it out for you then? Two words, two syllables. Fuck. You. Logan.”
“That’s three words and four syllables.”
“And that’s it. I’m leaving.”
Ripping the door open, she hopped out of the Xterra, and started stalking across the parking lot.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath before getting out of the car to chase her. “Veronica, wait!”
When she didn’t stop, he broke into a jog. “Veronica!”
Suddenly freezing in her tracks, she whirled around, catching him off guard, and he had to skid to a halt to avoid a collision.
“What?”
Out of breath and exhausted, he was done playing games. “Don’t go.”
Shoulders slumping, she closed her eyes as if considering his request. Opening them after a moment, she asked, “Just what exactly am I staying for?”
“Rain check, Veronica. Remember? Dinner and a movie. Albacore Club,” waving his hand, he motioned to the yacht club looming in the background before holding up five fingers, “slip five.”
“Logan, if you brought me here as some sort of twisted punishment…”
“Do you really think I would do that?” Pausing a beat, he reconsidered. “Okay, don’t answer that. Look, I don’t…I don’t know why I brought you here, alright? One minute we were doing that thing we do where we hate each other, and now we’re here…not so much hating each other.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“You know what, you’re right. This is ridiculous. I’ll take you home.”
He turned to go but this time, Veronica didn’t follow.
Sighing in exasperation, he called back over his shoulder, “Are you coming or what?”
“Or what.”
It was his turn to shut his eyes in frustration, wondering what he’d done to deserve this (Okay, don’t answer that one either). Facing her again, he threw his arms out to the side. “What are we doing here, Veronica?”
Placing her hands on her hips, she smirked. “Rain check, Logan.”
~
You can see forgiveness, the white flag waving in front of your face, hear it whipping in the wind.
And you can taste it, right there on the tip of your tongue, feel it dancing in the palm of your hand.
But will you accept it?
Can you offer it in return?
Apologies weren’t Veronica’s thing.
She didn’t give them away easily, nor take them readily.
They usually involved phrases like I’m sorry and Please forgive me, It won’t ever happen again.
Except they weren’t really, you shouldn’t and it probably would.
Because at the end of the day, even with the best intentions behind them, apologies were just words, nothing more.
And that meant they were open for interpretation.
You could hear what you wanted, twist the meaning to fit your needs, tell yourself whatever it took to make it better, help you sleep at night. In the end it wouldn’t change anything, erase the wrongs that had been done, and odds were you’d find yourself right back where you started sooner or later.
Round and round on the forgiveness merry-go-round. Where it stops, nobody knows…
She always believed the act of saying you’re sorry was more for the person seeking absolution than it ever was for the one who’d gotten hurt. Somehow speaking it out loud granted a reprieve from the guilt, lifted the weight of responsibility from their shoulders, and they could go on with their lives feeling a little better about themselves.
While you just kept on feeling like shit.
You’re sorry you slept with that skank and gave me an STD? Great! Thanks! I feel so much better. Really. The itching and burning? Completely gone now.
In her line of work she’d seen it all, and it never surprised her, the lengths to which people would go without any regard for others.
What did surprise her was how willingly some could excuse even the most heinous of acts.
Forgiveness requires a blind leap of faith, and Veronica always liked to go into any situation with both eyes open.
For years she kept herself in the dark, turned a blind eye to the dysfunction of her family, her mother’s love of the bottle at the very core.
And there were other things she knew, about Lilly, Duncan, even Logan, that she chose to ignore, turn her head and pretend everything was alright.
All that changed one crisp fall day when she found her best friend sprawled out in a pool of her own blood, leaving a trail of unanswered questions and no one to take the blame.
She could no longer look the other way, forgive and forget, let bygones be bygones.
The truth, that was her thing, and it was going to set her free.
In her quest for answers she wounded a lot of people along the way, forgetting the difference two little words can sometimes make. They were insignificant in her life, so she underestimated the value they held for some.
She got greedy, withholding forgiveness, keeping apologies to herself, not really knowing who or what she was saving it all for.
Eventually she found everything she was searching for, but solving the mystery didn’t come without a price.
Logan paid for her mistakes probably more than anyone else.
She never told him she was sorry.
And all that forgiveness and all those apologies were collecting dust on a shelf somewhere in the back of her heart.
~
He offered his hand when she stepped up onto the boat, but she wouldn’t take it, choosing to make the precarious jump unassisted.
And a few seconds later when she stumbled and almost fell in, Logan was there to catch her, instinctively grabbing her waist to steady her.
After a mumbled ‘thanks’ and an awkward dance of ‘I’ll go that way…no wait, you go that way, I’ll go this way’, they took their respective positions, Logan stretched out in the corner of the white bench, Veronica on the end near the exit. Just in case.
“We’re not actually going…”
“To Catalina?” He raised his eyebrows in question, then shook his head. “No.”
“Because it’s…”
“Late, dark, pushing our luck and a monumentally bad idea?”
“Exactly.”
And that slight sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that some might call disappointment?
Seasickness.
Never mind the boat was still docked.
“We could do the whole dinner and a movie thing.”
“Right, but I left my popup restaurant and instant movie theater in a box back in my bag.”
“Takeout,” he held up his cell phone, waving it back and forth, “and I’m told I put on an excellent finger puppet show.”
“I think we’ve had enough hand gestures for one night.”
The imaginary bunny hopping across thin air quickly came to a dejected halt. “Okay, so if we’re not actually sailing this boat out of port and we’ve nixed our previous plans, that puts us…”
“Right back where we started.”
Apparently that entailed gawking at each other like complete idiots and forgetting every intelligent word in the English language.
Of course, there was the off chance they were testing their telepathic powers, an idea she could totally get behind if not for the part where they were failing miserably.
She had no clue what the hell she was thinking, let alone what was going on in Logan’s mind. But that could be a good thing, given the scary place it was known to be.
“Veronica?”
See? Logan was just talking to her and she didn’t even know. So much for possible psychic ability. That probably meant telekinesis was completely out of the question as well and she’d always wanted to try that, just once…
“Veronica.”
Willing herself to focus, she grinned sheepishly. “Yes, Logan?”
“I said, would that really be so bad?”
“Um…no?”
“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
“Absolutely none. Sorry,” she shrugged, “I’m a little spacey tonight.”
“I know the feeling.”
At a loss for what to do next, they lapsed into another lull in the conversation, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as the first.
Splaying his arms across the top of the bench, Logan closed his eyes and tipped his head back, breathing in the salt-tinged breeze, and she couldn’t help but watch.
Her mind drifted to that day even when she told it not to, wondering what he did when she didn’t show, how long he waited before giving up. She was too angry to care back then, never giving it a second thought.
But now her mind was flooded with possibilities, and she had to look away, gazing out at the smooth sheet of dark water, hoping the images flashing before her would drown in its vastness.
“Do you think I’m greedy?”
Logan’s unexpected question made her jump. “What?” she asked, turning to face him.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ve kept this boat,” he explained, “when I should’ve just torched the damn thing. So am I greedy for holding on to it?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“Why you haven’t torched it.”
He held her gaze for a beat, then dropped his head, giving no answer.
Veronica’s breath caught in her throat, stealing any chance she had for a reply.
This was it, the reason they were here, what they’d been avoiding all night.
Sitting upright, he shifted his gaze heavenward again. When he spoke, she could barely hear him. “I had it all planned. I could see it in my mind, how perfect it was going to be.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I even brought champagne.”
“You can’t blame me for not coming, Logan. I thought that…”
“I know what you thought, and that’s not what this is about. As far as I’m concerned we got that one all squared away the night of my ‘surprise party’.”
And then not more than two hours later she was running away from him again.
Neither said it, but both knew they were thinking it. Of course the fucking telepathy would kick in now.
“Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if we’d gone to Catalina?” he asked.
“Do you mean do I think things would be different?”
He nodded.
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Would you want it to be…different, that is?” he asked, but in the next breath took it back. “Wait, don’t answer that. This is completely pointless. We can’t go back, can we?”
“No, we can’t…but starting over wouldn’t be so bad.”
For once, she caught him off guard, his mouth falling open in surprise. She’d heard him after all.
Or maybe it was just the telepathy kicking in again.
His lips slowly curved into a genuine smile, and she returned the gesture in kind, something undefined once again passing between them.
“So, are we all done here?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he stood, looking around the boat one last time, “I think we are,” before jumping back onto the dock.
Turning, he held out his hand and she took it, allowing him to help her back onto dry land.
They didn’t speak again on the ride back to the carnival where the LeBaron was waiting for her, but that was okay. Some things were just understood.
Tomorrow they’d go back to doing that thing where they hated each other, just maybe a little less.
He pulled in beside her car and shut off the ignition. “And here we are, right back where we started.”
“Yep,” she reached down and grabbed her bag from the floor, “it’s been fun. Maybe we can do it again sometime.”
“I wouldn’t wait by the phone if I were you.”
“That’s okay. I think my calendar just filled back up.” She opened the door and got out, then added as an afterthought, “Just for the record, Logan, I don’t think you’re greedy. You’ve just got great expectations.”
The door slammed and she was gone.
“Great expectations…” he repeated, confused. But then he chuckled, shaking his head. “Guess that’s one way of looking at it.”
Greed comes in many different flavors.
It just didn’t hurt so much anymore.
Author: Kelli
Pairing/Character: Logan/Veronica
Word Count: 5,214
Rating: R
Summary: Greed comes in many different flavors, but it always hurts.
Spoilers: This is a missing scene from 2.13('Ain't No Magic Mountain High Enough), so everything up to that.
Warnings: The f-word flies around a few times, and there's some references to child abuse and alcoholism.
Note: This is my entry for the 7sins_7virtues challenge, and if you haven't figured it out by now, my word was greed. This is also pretty much my first Veronica Mars fic, or at least the first where I take on two main characters and actually make them talk. So, if I've royally messed them up, I apologize. And, I'd appreciate any comments or suggestions. Just remember, I'm new. Oh, and I need to thank Jen, my beta, for the massive amount of hand holding I required while writing this. And also, gigglynell for help with plot, characterization, and not committing me to a mental faicility before I could finish. Plus, before I forget, there are a few little snippets from the song Quiet by Rachael Yamagata found in this fic. Thanks for reading!
You can smell a memory, but can you taste one?
Icy chocolate with a warm, salty metallic tang.
That was the flavor of his tenth birthday.
He’d wanted a monkey, but got a bloody nose instead.
He hadn’t really intended to dump the milkshake, more like threaten, shake them up a bit, show he meant business.
But his mother wasn’t very good at driving a stick, and somewhere between the sudden lurching forward and what was supposed to be a slight tip of his cup, a gooey brown mess was made all over that fine leather interior.
When his face connected with the cool glass, his father’s hand clamping around his head, shoving him forward, he realized he’d asked for too much, gone too far.
“You greedy, little bastard!” Aaron raged, bashing his face against the window. “Look what you’ve done!”
Later that night, the belt taught him a lesson about greed.
Desiring more than you deserve will only bring pain.
Since then, he’d learned greed comes in many flavors.
But, it always hurts.
~
“Would that you could, spit out the memories.”
It was a tongue-in-cheek jab at Dick, sardonic and cutting, just as he preferred.
Melodically wry in his delivery, he thoroughly enjoyed dropping that one-liner, even if it was at Dick’s expense.
Especially if it was at Dick’s expense.
But there was more truth in that statement than he’d like to admit.
And while one girl’s kiss still lingered on his lips, it was another’s taste he couldn’t get out of his mouth.
Laced with lies and ulterior motives, the lip-lock with Hannah was a necessary evil, a means to an end. Even if it was incredibly sweet it left a sour after taste, befitting of the bitterness he harbored for her father, the situation that forced him to drastic measures, but mainly for himself.
This particular brand of greed could be labeled Desperation.
Hungry for the truth, he would stop at nothing to get it, to clear his name once and for all.
If that made him greedy, so be it.
Most people would probably say he was anyway, a generalized, outside observation based on the quality of his lifestyle. There could be some truth to it, because he would be stupid not to take advantage of his position. Let’s face it, as idealistic as you wished you could be, money was a necessary evil too.
But there were other things he longed for, that held greater value than a piece of paper.
“What’s with Dick?” Suddenly, Veronica was standing beside him.
“It’s not so much what’s with Dick, as what dick was Dick with.”
Casting him a perplexed sideways glance, she deadpanned, “And, how much wood could a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck could chuck wood?”
Smirking in spite of himself, Logan changed directions. “So, I hear the headlines tomorrow will read Veronica Mars,” raising his hands with a flourish, he made a sweeping gesture to accentuate her name, “Girl Detective Does It Again. Haven’t you earned your do-gooder merit badge by now?”
“No, that’s next week. This week it’s leatherwork and woodcarving.”
“What have you got against Catalina, anyway?”
“You can’t tell me you’re disappointed. Like you would even go on the Senior Trip.”
“Oh right, because I might be someone’s prison bitch by then.”
“You’re not going to jail, Logan.”
“And you’re not going to Catalina. Only this time you thought to cancel before the boat left.”
The words fell easily from his mouth, no venom behind them. Simply mocking her for the sake of it, he couldn't resist taking a jab, and she played right along.
“Yeah, well let’s hope you leave your GHB at home this time.”
“Touché.” He grinned, impressed. “And now that we’ve gotten the requisite rubbing of salt in old wounds out of the way, how goes the slushy business?”
“Yeah, about that,” crossing her arms, she mimicked his stance, leaning up against the car, “aren’t you in FBLA? Even Dick took his turn rubbing elbows with the little people. What’s your excuse?”
“Let’s just say I had more pressing business to deal with.”
“Ah yes, the hot date.”
“How many times do I have to say it? Rain check, Veronica.”
“Oh, I can hardly stand it,” she clapped her hands together, feigning enthusiasm, “the suspense! Waiting by the phone every night, hoping and praying that you’ll call. I just might have to clear my calendar.”
“Well, what are you doing right now?”
And these words tumbled from his mouth without difficulty, or much thought, surprising even himself to find he wasn’t joking this time.
Catching Veronica off guard, she stood, dazed, mouth gaping slightly, blinking a few times as if her vision was blurred.
“You know what,” he began, pushing away from the car, “just for-“
At the same time, Veronica answered, “Nothing.”
You know those moments, when everything slows and time stands still, as if some higher power is telling you to stop and pay attention, and you can’t move, or breathe, or think? The ones that only last a split second, but have the potential to alter your entire life?
If Logan had any idea what the fuck those were all about, he might’ve said he was in one. But right now, he was kind of busy trying to get his heart to start beating again.
Staring each other down, a million questions silently asked with just a look, neither knew what to say.
Fighting against the awkward air that hung between them, Logan took a step forward. Keeping his gaze trained on her, he fished through his pocket, then held up his keys, raising his eyebrows.
Tilting her head to the side, she hesitated, unable to answer.
But when Logan turned to go, Veronica followed.
~
You can hear words, but can you touch them?
Because there were so many things said, she’d like to take back, reach out, grab and shove back in.
And there were some things she wished she could say, pull from her heart and put into her mouth, make them come out.
When she was little, Veronica could always tell her mother was drunk by the way she’d ramble. Incoherent, random (and sometimes not so random) nothingness spilling from her lips as fast as the liquor passed through them.
If she ever did say anything that made sense, it was usually the wrong thing, the one tiny little tidbit no one should ever know. This, of course, happened at the most inopportune moments. At the grocery store, soccer matches, car pools and sleepovers. Thanks to dear old mom, her entire sixth grade class knew when Veronica ‘became a woman’.
And then there was the emotional roller coaster ride that wouldn’t stop until she passed out. Laughing hysterically one minute, sobbing the next, she would be manic, then drop like a rock into the depths of depression.
Lianne squandered emotions, gave away precious thoughts, all in an embarrassing display of inebriation.
Maybe that’s why Veronica was so stingy with her emotions, selfish with her words. She hoarded her thoughts and feelings, kept them close to the breast, lest she suffer the same humiliation.
Cutting comments and snarky comebacks were pre-approved for all conversations, facts and figures, clues and evidence, discussed readily at the appropriate times. But not much else ever found its way out.
Greed to Veronica was protection, a means of survival.
It kept her safe.
But it also kept her lonely.
~
It was too quiet.
The radio played a soft, slow tune, a forlorn female singing about too much time spent on closing doors.
“You may hate me, but I’ll remember to love you…”
But it was still too quiet, the silence making Veronica a little uneasy.
They’d been driving aimlessly for fifteen minutes, not one single syllable uttered between them, and she still had no clue what the hell she was doing here.
Except, not going on a hot date with Logan. Of that she was certain.
And if it was a date (which again, so not), it was definitely of the cold variety. South Pole. Penguins. Well below freezing temperatures in which frostbite could be had and igloos erected.
But it wasn’t a date, so atmospheric conditions were not even a factor.
“Are you cold?”
And, he speaks.
“No.”
“Because you’re shivering.”
“I am?”
In response, his gaze flickered down over the vicinity of her chest before returning to the road.
Confused, and about to reprimand him for ogling her, Veronica followed the path his eyes just took, realizing his pointed look had nothing to do with admiring her breasts (And really, when did it ever?).
Arms in a death grip around her torso, she’d cocooned herself into her green leather jacket.
Maybe a subliminal reaction to her recent frosty thoughts?
Or, was she shielding herself from a different kind of overexposure?
“I can turn on the heat,” Logan offered, his hand already leaving the wheel.
“No!” Quickly dropping her arms, her hand automatically shot out to intercept his.
Fingers collided, lingering, briefly remembering, as they involuntarily curled together before falling away.
“And it'll be just as quiet when I leave, as it was when I first got here…”
Silence returned, thick and heavy.
Logan drove, his hands now tightly wrapped around the steering wheel, stretching and whitening the skin over his knuckles.
Veronica stared out the window, but saw none of the scenery flashing by.
Why was she here?
Better yet, why did he ask her to be here?
“I don’t expect anything…”
She’d spent all day chasing a thief, managed to snag three in the process, redeem Jackie, up her chances at winning the Kane Scholarship, and save the Senior Trip.
But talking to Logan?
Impossible.
When was the last time they even had a real conversation?
Deep and meaningful wasn’t exactly in their current repertoire. They traded insults and information, nothing more.
For weeks after their breakup, Veronica didn’t speak to Logan. Or rather, she couldn’t. Not for lack of things to say, but for everything she feared she might.
Logan never stopped talking. To her, at her, around and over her. Whenever their paths crossed, he had something to profess, proclaim, declare or announce. The last word was always his.
The fact that it took discovering his affair with a married (Was woman appropriate for Kendall…? Hooker? Harlot? Lady of the evening? So many choices, but right now she was totally going with whore.) whore to restore the power of speech should’ve really set off some kind of ex-girlfriend alarm.
Warning! Green-eyed monster awakened. Cease and desist immediately.
But she went to Logan anyway, mouth loaded and ready to fire. And in her attempt to appear not responsible and unconcerned, business as usual, she was pretty sure she came off exactly the opposite.
The wrong th
ings came out at the wrong times, and the right things came out all wrong.
With Duncan, the silences were easy, comfortable, just like everything else.
Could that be why she took Logan up on his offer? Did she really miss Duncan that much, was she that desperate for company?
Looking down at the hand that just tangled with his, it looked empty, felt too light.
Was she just lonely, greedy for any kind of contact?
“What if I was someone different in your only history? Would you feel the same…?”
Or was this something else entirely?
Stealing a glance at Logan, she noticed his body was stiff, jaw set, as he concentrated too hard on the task at hand. Moonlight fell through the windshield, illuminating his face, softening his features in contrast to his rigid posture, in much the same way his actions could belie what was going on in his head and heart.
In that moment, she made a decision.
“Logan?”
“Yeah?” he replied, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead.
“How…” taking a deep breath, she forced the words out, “how are you?”
“Well, right at this very moment, I must say I’m a little hungry. I’m thinking burgers and fries, although carbs after six is so not good for my diet, but…”
“No,” she cut him off, “I mean how are you…doing?”
“You mean with Weevil and our little investigation?”
Damn, he was making this even harder. “No, no,” she shook her head, “I just mean you, in general…because with everything…are you…okay?”
The nonchalant grin slipped from his face, his eyes darting from her to the road, and back again. “Um…yeah,” his answer was slow, unsure, “I’m…hanging in, keepin’ the faith and all that.” Hesitating a beat, he added, “How ‘bout you?”
“I’m fine.”
“Really?”
His voice was soft, the inflection one she hadn’t heard in a while, the concerned expression he wore familiar as well.
She recognized this person, knew him well.
“I don’t know.”
Silence stretched between them again, but it was altogether different, weighted with something undefined, dense with a quiet possibility.
It was then she noticed his relaxed stance, hands resting in his lap, eyes not moving from her face.
They weren’t driving anymore.
Turning to peer out the windshield, she inquired, “Why did we stop? Where are…” her voice trailing off as she heard the sound of the waves lapping, saw the lights from the boats bobbing up and down in the water.
And in the distance, she saw the flag, flapping in the breeze, the lamp above it shining down so she could make out the words splattered across.
Albacore Club.
~
You can see love, touch, taste, smell, even hear it, but will it ever be yours?
The last time they kissed, really kissed, before the coldness and doubt, before he could feel her slipping away, it was a Wednesday.
After he was released from summer school hell, he’d picked her up and they went to the beach, strolling lazily along a quiet stretch away from prying eyes, kicking up sand and surf as they chased and played, until the bright afternoon sun gave way to a moonlit evening.
Stretched out on a blanket, a light breeze blowing, mingling with the lull of the ocean, a clichéd canopy of stars overhead, he couldn’t quite believe he was part of something so picture perfect.
But he could see her, lying beside him with no barriers between, her guard let down, a rarely seen soft vulnerability radiating from her, and when he reached for her she didn’t vanish into thin air like he always feared she might.
A few days before he’d professed his love, in an ‘I’m still thinking about it but only because I’m afraid you don’t feel the same’ kind of way, which she joked around as expected. He’d caught a glimmer of something in her eyes though, a flash of ‘maybe I do too’. Fleeting as it was, it was there.
This time when he told her, caressing her cheek reverently, the whispered I love you, Veronica rolling off his tongue without reservation, she offered no snappy comeback.
She didn’t say a word, but her lips did all the talking, crashing into his, kissing him fiercely, stealing his breath and taking his heart right along with it.
He knew he’d never get it back.
She tasted like saltwater, moonlight, sand and stars; a little like mustard and relish from the hotdog that was her dinner, and a lot like possibility. It was brimming with hope, overflowing with some day, and still he couldn’t get enough.
Not wanting to push, ask for too much too soon, he did his best to squelch his growing desire, backing off before things got out of control. He knew what would happen if he got greedy.
Drifting off to sleep while he held her, Veronica looked so small and fragile, so very breakable, and that’s when he knew what he had to do.
He’d been grappling with it for days, ever since Dick planted the seed of revenge, going back and forth between right and wrong, how far he should go. When Dick and Beaver showed up during lunch today with the gasoline and he saw Veronica’s suspicious reaction, he was ready to call off the whole thing.
Now, with her in his arms, a living, breathing reminder of all he had to lose, the choice was crystal clear.
The gunshot still ringing in his ears, he could feel the shards of glass raining down on his skin, her body pressed up against his, tensing in terror, her chest heaving, heart pounding with fear. And that look in her eyes, the horror on her face, how she didn’t cry, but her body seemed to shake with unshed tears, it was there every time he closed his eyes.
It was one thing when they came after him, a part of him could even understand it, but Veronica was a different story. They’d crossed a line the moment the bullet was fired.
Logically, he knew he should just give her up, sever the ties that bound her to him and put her in harm’s way. It was the noble thing, the right thing, but he was never very good at either of those.
Everyone that used to matter in his life was gone, each loss beyond his control, and Veronica was all he had left. He would do everything in his power to keep her.
A week later, his heart lying bloody and broken on the floor, Keith was slamming him up against a wall, telling him to leave and never come back, and that’s when he remembered the one lesson he never should’ve forgotten.
Greed comes in many different flavors, but it always hurts.
~
Certain it was malfunctioning, Logan really needed to check his autopilot.
Usually he just flipped the switch and went on his way, trusting it to get him through life relatively unscathed (which, now that he thought about it, maybe it never worked in the first place…).
But tonight, some of its choices were questionable, to say the least, and if she wasn’t looking at him like that, he would seriously consider overriding it.
Or maybe, he already had, and this was where he’d wanted to be all along.
Whatever the case might be, there was no going back so they might as well get on with it.
And they would, as soon as he figured out what the fuck he was thinking bringing her here.
Hannah.
This was all her fault.
And that goddamn Senior Trip to Catalina that never was.
Both brought back too many memories of first dates and broken promises.
The last time he’d attempted to woo a girl it’d been Veronica, only no underhanded tactics were employed.
It was an effort to be normal, a practice run in preparation for the real thing.
He was a fool to ever think he was capable of giving her that.
“Logan?” Veronica’s sharp, impatient tone cut through his thoughts.
“Huh?”
“You wanna tell me what we’re doing here?”
“Wouldn’t it be more fun to guess? I’ll give you clues. I hear you’re good at that kind of thing. I’m thinking of three words, six syllables.”
“And I’ve got two words for you,” she said, conveying her meaning with a flip of her wrist ending in an obscene hand gesture.
“Tsk, tsk, Veronica. We’re not playing charades.”
“Would you like me to spell it out for you then? Two words, two syllables. Fuck. You. Logan.”
“That’s three words and four syllables.”
“And that’s it. I’m leaving.”
Ripping the door open, she hopped out of the Xterra, and started stalking across the parking lot.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath before getting out of the car to chase her. “Veronica, wait!”
When she didn’t stop, he broke into a jog. “Veronica!”
Suddenly freezing in her tracks, she whirled around, catching him off guard, and he had to skid to a halt to avoid a collision.
“What?”
Out of breath and exhausted, he was done playing games. “Don’t go.”
Shoulders slumping, she closed her eyes as if considering his request. Opening them after a moment, she asked, “Just what exactly am I staying for?”
“Rain check, Veronica. Remember? Dinner and a movie. Albacore Club,” waving his hand, he motioned to the yacht club looming in the background before holding up five fingers, “slip five.”
“Logan, if you brought me here as some sort of twisted punishment…”
“Do you really think I would do that?” Pausing a beat, he reconsidered. “Okay, don’t answer that. Look, I don’t…I don’t know why I brought you here, alright? One minute we were doing that thing we do where we hate each other, and now we’re here…not so much hating each other.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“You know what, you’re right. This is ridiculous. I’ll take you home.”
He turned to go but this time, Veronica didn’t follow.
Sighing in exasperation, he called back over his shoulder, “Are you coming or what?”
“Or what.”
It was his turn to shut his eyes in frustration, wondering what he’d done to deserve this (Okay, don’t answer that one either). Facing her again, he threw his arms out to the side. “What are we doing here, Veronica?”
Placing her hands on her hips, she smirked. “Rain check, Logan.”
~
You can see forgiveness, the white flag waving in front of your face, hear it whipping in the wind.
And you can taste it, right there on the tip of your tongue, feel it dancing in the palm of your hand.
But will you accept it?
Can you offer it in return?
Apologies weren’t Veronica’s thing.
She didn’t give them away easily, nor take them readily.
They usually involved phrases like I’m sorry and Please forgive me, It won’t ever happen again.
Except they weren’t really, you shouldn’t and it probably would.
Because at the end of the day, even with the best intentions behind them, apologies were just words, nothing more.
And that meant they were open for interpretation.
You could hear what you wanted, twist the meaning to fit your needs, tell yourself whatever it took to make it better, help you sleep at night. In the end it wouldn’t change anything, erase the wrongs that had been done, and odds were you’d find yourself right back where you started sooner or later.
Round and round on the forgiveness merry-go-round. Where it stops, nobody knows…
She always believed the act of saying you’re sorry was more for the person seeking absolution than it ever was for the one who’d gotten hurt. Somehow speaking it out loud granted a reprieve from the guilt, lifted the weight of responsibility from their shoulders, and they could go on with their lives feeling a little better about themselves.
While you just kept on feeling like shit.
You’re sorry you slept with that skank and gave me an STD? Great! Thanks! I feel so much better. Really. The itching and burning? Completely gone now.
In her line of work she’d seen it all, and it never surprised her, the lengths to which people would go without any regard for others.
What did surprise her was how willingly some could excuse even the most heinous of acts.
Forgiveness requires a blind leap of faith, and Veronica always liked to go into any situation with both eyes open.
For years she kept herself in the dark, turned a blind eye to the dysfunction of her family, her mother’s love of the bottle at the very core.
And there were other things she knew, about Lilly, Duncan, even Logan, that she chose to ignore, turn her head and pretend everything was alright.
All that changed one crisp fall day when she found her best friend sprawled out in a pool of her own blood, leaving a trail of unanswered questions and no one to take the blame.
She could no longer look the other way, forgive and forget, let bygones be bygones.
The truth, that was her thing, and it was going to set her free.
In her quest for answers she wounded a lot of people along the way, forgetting the difference two little words can sometimes make. They were insignificant in her life, so she underestimated the value they held for some.
She got greedy, withholding forgiveness, keeping apologies to herself, not really knowing who or what she was saving it all for.
Eventually she found everything she was searching for, but solving the mystery didn’t come without a price.
Logan paid for her mistakes probably more than anyone else.
She never told him she was sorry.
And all that forgiveness and all those apologies were collecting dust on a shelf somewhere in the back of her heart.
~
He offered his hand when she stepped up onto the boat, but she wouldn’t take it, choosing to make the precarious jump unassisted.
And a few seconds later when she stumbled and almost fell in, Logan was there to catch her, instinctively grabbing her waist to steady her.
After a mumbled ‘thanks’ and an awkward dance of ‘I’ll go that way…no wait, you go that way, I’ll go this way’, they took their respective positions, Logan stretched out in the corner of the white bench, Veronica on the end near the exit. Just in case.
“We’re not actually going…”
“To Catalina?” He raised his eyebrows in question, then shook his head. “No.”
“Because it’s…”
“Late, dark, pushing our luck and a monumentally bad idea?”
“Exactly.”
And that slight sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that some might call disappointment?
Seasickness.
Never mind the boat was still docked.
“We could do the whole dinner and a movie thing.”
“Right, but I left my popup restaurant and instant movie theater in a box back in my bag.”
“Takeout,” he held up his cell phone, waving it back and forth, “and I’m told I put on an excellent finger puppet show.”
“I think we’ve had enough hand gestures for one night.”
The imaginary bunny hopping across thin air quickly came to a dejected halt. “Okay, so if we’re not actually sailing this boat out of port and we’ve nixed our previous plans, that puts us…”
“Right back where we started.”
Apparently that entailed gawking at each other like complete idiots and forgetting every intelligent word in the English language.
Of course, there was the off chance they were testing their telepathic powers, an idea she could totally get behind if not for the part where they were failing miserably.
She had no clue what the hell she was thinking, let alone what was going on in Logan’s mind. But that could be a good thing, given the scary place it was known to be.
“Veronica?”
See? Logan was just talking to her and she didn’t even know. So much for possible psychic ability. That probably meant telekinesis was completely out of the question as well and she’d always wanted to try that, just once…
“Veronica.”
Willing herself to focus, she grinned sheepishly. “Yes, Logan?”
“I said, would that really be so bad?”
“Um…no?”
“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
“Absolutely none. Sorry,” she shrugged, “I’m a little spacey tonight.”
“I know the feeling.”
At a loss for what to do next, they lapsed into another lull in the conversation, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as the first.
Splaying his arms across the top of the bench, Logan closed his eyes and tipped his head back, breathing in the salt-tinged breeze, and she couldn’t help but watch.
Her mind drifted to that day even when she told it not to, wondering what he did when she didn’t show, how long he waited before giving up. She was too angry to care back then, never giving it a second thought.
But now her mind was flooded with possibilities, and she had to look away, gazing out at the smooth sheet of dark water, hoping the images flashing before her would drown in its vastness.
“Do you think I’m greedy?”
Logan’s unexpected question made her jump. “What?” she asked, turning to face him.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ve kept this boat,” he explained, “when I should’ve just torched the damn thing. So am I greedy for holding on to it?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“Why you haven’t torched it.”
He held her gaze for a beat, then dropped his head, giving no answer.
Veronica’s breath caught in her throat, stealing any chance she had for a reply.
This was it, the reason they were here, what they’d been avoiding all night.
Sitting upright, he shifted his gaze heavenward again. When he spoke, she could barely hear him. “I had it all planned. I could see it in my mind, how perfect it was going to be.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I even brought champagne.”
“You can’t blame me for not coming, Logan. I thought that…”
“I know what you thought, and that’s not what this is about. As far as I’m concerned we got that one all squared away the night of my ‘surprise party’.”
And then not more than two hours later she was running away from him again.
Neither said it, but both knew they were thinking it. Of course the fucking telepathy would kick in now.
“Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if we’d gone to Catalina?” he asked.
“Do you mean do I think things would be different?”
He nodded.
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Would you want it to be…different, that is?” he asked, but in the next breath took it back. “Wait, don’t answer that. This is completely pointless. We can’t go back, can we?”
“No, we can’t…but starting over wouldn’t be so bad.”
For once, she caught him off guard, his mouth falling open in surprise. She’d heard him after all.
Or maybe it was just the telepathy kicking in again.
His lips slowly curved into a genuine smile, and she returned the gesture in kind, something undefined once again passing between them.
“So, are we all done here?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he stood, looking around the boat one last time, “I think we are,” before jumping back onto the dock.
Turning, he held out his hand and she took it, allowing him to help her back onto dry land.
They didn’t speak again on the ride back to the carnival where the LeBaron was waiting for her, but that was okay. Some things were just understood.
Tomorrow they’d go back to doing that thing where they hated each other, just maybe a little less.
He pulled in beside her car and shut off the ignition. “And here we are, right back where we started.”
“Yep,” she reached down and grabbed her bag from the floor, “it’s been fun. Maybe we can do it again sometime.”
“I wouldn’t wait by the phone if I were you.”
“That’s okay. I think my calendar just filled back up.” She opened the door and got out, then added as an afterthought, “Just for the record, Logan, I don’t think you’re greedy. You’ve just got great expectations.”
The door slammed and she was gone.
“Great expectations…” he repeated, confused. But then he chuckled, shaking his head. “Guess that’s one way of looking at it.”
Greed comes in many different flavors.
It just didn’t hurt so much anymore.