Fic: Escaping the Void ~ PG-13
Title: Escaping the Void
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After the events of “Mars, Bars” there’s a void Veronica won’t admit to. At least not sober and not to anyone but who she doesn’t realize is Lamb.
Spoilers: 3x14
Characters/Pairing(s): Veronica, Lamb, mentions Keith
Word Count: 2361
Disclaimer: Veronica Mars is not owned by me, but by Rob Thomas. I’m simply borrowing the characters for non-profit entertainment.
~~
Sheriff Lamb is dead. Such a simple phrase made up of four short, simple words strung together to make that sentence. Just four syllables and yet they had the power to change everything Veronica thought she knew about the world around her. Not that she was about to claim that they had been friends, but he had been such a constant pain in her ass that she hadn’t even imagined a world he wasn’t in. Her own personal albatross.
As the time began to pass throughout the day, the time spanning since her father had said those words to her, Veronica tried not to think how she and Lamb had recently begun to forge some kind of professionalism with each other. They had managed to be civil with one another and actually work together. She had even begun to wonder if he wasn’t as bad as he tried to seem after all.
Now this.
Her first test had been to convince her father she was fine with the news. Surprisingly she had passed, but she guessed it was thanks to him being named the acting sheriff. If Keith had been able to stay in the office and watch her he would have seen the truth. With that in mind she wasn’t sure she would ever be more thankful for that particular County Commissioner.
Wallace was next and she had fooled him too. Veronica knew it was wrong to find any kind of thrill in tricking those she was closest to, but it sure beat talking about her feelings. Especially on any sort of Lamb-related subject. Though admittedly it was easier to talk about wanting to punch him for arresting her when she decided she was innocent as opposed to having to admit she cared that she would never see him or his ever mocking smirk again. After everything they had put each other through it should have been a blessing, a relief.
So why do I feel like this? Veronica silently wondered as she drove. She didn’t miss him. No, that’s not what the sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach was. It wasn’t like she cared about him when he was alive so why should she start after his death? Even if there had been times she was more than a little thankful for him and said death was so untimely, sudden and made him a hero just for having died with that ugly brown uniform on?
With a shake of her head, Veronica pulled into a free parking spot outside of the first bar she had seen in three blocks. She wasn’t happy about it, but it wasn’t like her favorite nemesis would bust her for driving drunk or even underage drinking when she got done. Not that she would be driving drunk, a beer or two, maybe a burger to be safe and she would be on her way.
Two beers, four tequila shots and an extra shot of whiskey “for the road” later, Veronica found herself with no burger or any other substantial food in sight and a warm sensation coursing through her. Oh yeah, this was much better then how she had been feeling when she first walked in. And no thoughts of any ineffectual sheriffs either. Nuh uh. No memories of that tight uniform or how she had caught him smiling at her more than a few times over the last six months or how he had died trying to protect both her father and Sacks in his own pigheaded way.
Nope. None of that. And that’s why she wasn’t accepting that one last shot of whiskey for the road. Meggie the Bartender knew her and had already offered to call a cab for her anyway, she could do whatever she wanted.
Veronica threw back her shot and slammed the empty glass upside down on the bar. Mom would be so proud. she thought with a soft chuckle and pang of guilt. She decided her liquid buddies were doing their job when she turned to her left and saw a long-legged, dark haired man walking towards her.
In the dim light of the bar he could almost pass for Lamb’s long lost twin. As he came closer to her she began to realize just how much the man really did resemble the all too recently fallen sheriff. When he settled against the bar, close enough for her to catch a subtle whiff of that sickeningly obnoxious and familiar cologne and even softer hint of copper in the air she knew her drinks had to be working overtime.
“Celebrating, are we?” Lamb asked as he waved off the bartender. He wasn’t there to drink. Not with the pain killers he was on. Even he wasn’t that stupid.
Veronica chuckled, flashed him a smile and drank the last sip that almost got away from the longneck bottle in front of her.
He nodded. Then he looked back to Meggie. “You call this girl a cab yet?”
“I was just about to,” she half-lied. Veronica had told her she would give her the word when she was ready for her to call a cab and she had agreed. So far Veronica had only been ordering more drinks.
“And I take it you didn’t card her either?”
“Hey! Ghosts can’t threaten people!” Veronica protested on her new favorite bartender’s behalf.
Ghosts? And here he thought he had been the one hit upside the head and feared brain damaged for his first two hours in the hospital. Instead he had managed to come out with fifteen stitches, some pain killers and special instructions on when and how he was allowed to sleep.
“Come on, Veronica,” he urged as he took her arm.
“No touching!” she told him as she wretched her arm from his grasp. “You can’t do that. You’re not even here. How are you supposed to take me home anyway? Which, by the way, I have no intention of going back to yet.”
“Special powers. All of us ghosts have ‘em,” he told her. He couldn’t believe that worked, but he chose to just be thankful that her answer was getting her to move.
“What about her tab?” Meggie demanded when she saw Lamb and Veronica almost to the door.
“You want a paper trail proving you were enabling a minor?” he asked her.
Meggie only scoffed. Wasn’t it just a couple of hours ago the radio proclaimed that the sheriff was dead? So much for that dream, she decided.
“This is a car,” Veronica stated when they were outside, disappointed. It wasn’t even a Balboa County cruiser.
“Very good. Now, what do we do when someone is so nicely holding the door open for you?” he asked as though he were speaking to a small child.
“You promised special powers. Should’ve known even ghost you is a liar.”
She settled into the passenger seat with a huff, but he only closed the door without a word. He knew he was going to be in trouble when he saw her Saturn parked in the lot, but he’d had no idea he would find her this far gone.
Yes, it had been put over the wire that he had died from his injuries but that had mostly been to flush out Mindy O’Dell. He hadn’t thought for a minute Veronica would believe it. Wasn’t she the one who was convinced he lived solely to torture her and would never die because of that? Hell, for all he knew it was that faith of hers that had kept him alive today.
“This isn’t my apartment,” she stated when he stopped his car in a complex’s lot which was not that of the Sunset Cliffs.
“No, it’s not. Because Keith isn’t home and you need someone to keep an eye on you in your current condition.”
Never having been inside Lamb’s humble abode before, Veronica couldn’t claim to know it well when he walked her inside. But clearly he knew the layout which told her that this was clearly his apartment after all as he led her through the living room. He only stopped walking with her when they reached his kitchen.
“I’m not hungry,” she told him quickly. Even the idea of food was beginning to make her a little queasy.
“I’m not cooking.” Instead he reached to the counter behind him and grabbed an aspirin bottle and a glass. He had made sure to keep a bottle in nearly every room, too many nights they had proven necessary. Ironically mostly because of the migraines Veronica would give him.
Veronica only watched as he turned on the tap and shoved the two tablets into her hand.
“Take those,” he stated as he handed her the glass of water.
“I don’t need any of your pre-hangover remedies. I’m perfectly a-okay.”
“You called me a ghost. Take those.”
“You could ask a little more nicely, you know,” she told him as she popped the pair of pills into her mouth and drank them down.
“Could. Won’t. Bedroom’s through there,” he pointed down the hall. “Last door on your left. Do you need me to walk you down there or not?”
“I told you I’m fine. And you can’t send me to my room.”
“I’m sending you to my room. And you’re going if I have to carry you.”
“You’re mean.”
He laughed, he couldn’t help it. She sounded like she was ten and he would be willing to put big money on the fact she had been waiting years to say those words to him. Maybe not that way, but that just made it that much funnier to him.
“See? Mean. You’re laughing at me. Again. Even ghost you is laughing at me.”
“You need to sleep off that cocktail your underage self was drinking in that bar. Preferably without throwing up in my bed and you’re not getting my oh so comfortable couch. Now I’ll ask again, do you need help getting to the bedroom or not?”
“No,” she answered as she turned to head out of the kitchen first to prove her point. She didn’t need his help, she was perfectly fine without him.
“Okay,” he told her before heading off to his living room.
Still too proud to admit she may have needed just a little help - damn swaying hallways - she managed to stumble a good four times before reaching that king sized bed of his. Landing almost face first in the middle of it, Veronica’s let out a contented sigh. Her last conscious thought of the night being that maybe ghosts weren’t so bad after all.
Hours later, Lamb awoke to the sound of his bedroom door being slowly opened and soon realized he had to have dozed off himself while he had been watching SportsCenter. A glance to his watch told him it was just after six. So much for those concussion-coma worries his doctors had, he was tired and sore but obviously wasn’t a vegetable.
“Mornin’,” he told Veronica as he sat up and gingerly rubbed the back of his head. No popped stitches, no blood, even better.
“I’m guessing you’re not really a ghost,” Veronica stated, sounding almost as embarrassed as she felt as she nervously pulled down the sleeves of her turtleneck down over her knuckles. How could she be expected to feel comfortable in this situation? She had thought Lamb was dead, a thought that hadn’t filled her with the happiness she had long thought it would, she had even gotten herself drunk over it and she had woken up, alone, in his bed of all places and now she couldn’t even make a quick getaway because he was awake and talking to her.
“Nope,” he sighed as he settled back against the black leather of his sofa.
“They said you died. It was all over the radio. Even my dad -”
He nodded. “Yeah. Diversion. Someone had to take one for the team. May as well be the guy whose head was almost used in a grand slam.”
“You slept out here?” she asked, making a mental note of the t-shirt and jeans he had clearly slept in and the muted ESPN.
“Shouldn’t have slept at all, but yeah. How’s the head?”
“Shouldn’t people be asking you that?” she smirked as she took another step towards him.
“Not bad for the morning after,” he shrugged.
She nodded. “Your remedy worked, I guess. And your bedspread doesn’t need to be changed out or burned or anything.”
“Good. So are you going to tell me why you were drinking last night? Considering you are still under the legal limit and all?”
“Long day,” she grinned sardonically.
“Long day that left you thinking I was a ghost when I found you in that dive bar. But the way, remind me to thank you for not ending up at the Fitzpatrick’s. One bat to the head a day is where I draw the line.”
She almost laughed. “You’re welcome.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Long day, I told you.”
“Fine. Come on,” he sighed as he stood and grabbed his keys from the coffee table and put his shoes on.
“Where are we going?”
“I’ll take you back to your car, then you can go home and hopefully get in before your dad realizes where you spent last night.”
“Is the big, bad deputy afraid of Sheriff Mars?” she smirked.
“Ghosts only fear the Ghostbusters,” he smirked back to her.
It was when they reached his door that she turned back to him again and said, “You know I’ll finish the job Batando started if you repeat this -”
“But -” he grinned.
“But,” she continued with a nervous smile, she couldn’t believe she was about to admit this even mostly sober, “you’re not allowed to die. Not at thirty. Not ever.”
“Is that so? Is this Veronica Mars admitting she would have missed me, by any chance?”
“Of course not. This is just Veronica Mars saying you’re not allowed to die. Ever.”
Lamb smiled even as she continued to deflect while they headed to his car. It was close enough.
The End
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After the events of “Mars, Bars” there’s a void Veronica won’t admit to. At least not sober and not to anyone but who she doesn’t realize is Lamb.
Spoilers: 3x14
Characters/Pairing(s): Veronica, Lamb, mentions Keith
Word Count: 2361
Disclaimer: Veronica Mars is not owned by me, but by Rob Thomas. I’m simply borrowing the characters for non-profit entertainment.
~~
Sheriff Lamb is dead. Such a simple phrase made up of four short, simple words strung together to make that sentence. Just four syllables and yet they had the power to change everything Veronica thought she knew about the world around her. Not that she was about to claim that they had been friends, but he had been such a constant pain in her ass that she hadn’t even imagined a world he wasn’t in. Her own personal albatross.
As the time began to pass throughout the day, the time spanning since her father had said those words to her, Veronica tried not to think how she and Lamb had recently begun to forge some kind of professionalism with each other. They had managed to be civil with one another and actually work together. She had even begun to wonder if he wasn’t as bad as he tried to seem after all.
Now this.
Her first test had been to convince her father she was fine with the news. Surprisingly she had passed, but she guessed it was thanks to him being named the acting sheriff. If Keith had been able to stay in the office and watch her he would have seen the truth. With that in mind she wasn’t sure she would ever be more thankful for that particular County Commissioner.
Wallace was next and she had fooled him too. Veronica knew it was wrong to find any kind of thrill in tricking those she was closest to, but it sure beat talking about her feelings. Especially on any sort of Lamb-related subject. Though admittedly it was easier to talk about wanting to punch him for arresting her when she decided she was innocent as opposed to having to admit she cared that she would never see him or his ever mocking smirk again. After everything they had put each other through it should have been a blessing, a relief.
So why do I feel like this? Veronica silently wondered as she drove. She didn’t miss him. No, that’s not what the sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach was. It wasn’t like she cared about him when he was alive so why should she start after his death? Even if there had been times she was more than a little thankful for him and said death was so untimely, sudden and made him a hero just for having died with that ugly brown uniform on?
With a shake of her head, Veronica pulled into a free parking spot outside of the first bar she had seen in three blocks. She wasn’t happy about it, but it wasn’t like her favorite nemesis would bust her for driving drunk or even underage drinking when she got done. Not that she would be driving drunk, a beer or two, maybe a burger to be safe and she would be on her way.
Two beers, four tequila shots and an extra shot of whiskey “for the road” later, Veronica found herself with no burger or any other substantial food in sight and a warm sensation coursing through her. Oh yeah, this was much better then how she had been feeling when she first walked in. And no thoughts of any ineffectual sheriffs either. Nuh uh. No memories of that tight uniform or how she had caught him smiling at her more than a few times over the last six months or how he had died trying to protect both her father and Sacks in his own pigheaded way.
Nope. None of that. And that’s why she wasn’t accepting that one last shot of whiskey for the road. Meggie the Bartender knew her and had already offered to call a cab for her anyway, she could do whatever she wanted.
Veronica threw back her shot and slammed the empty glass upside down on the bar. Mom would be so proud. she thought with a soft chuckle and pang of guilt. She decided her liquid buddies were doing their job when she turned to her left and saw a long-legged, dark haired man walking towards her.
In the dim light of the bar he could almost pass for Lamb’s long lost twin. As he came closer to her she began to realize just how much the man really did resemble the all too recently fallen sheriff. When he settled against the bar, close enough for her to catch a subtle whiff of that sickeningly obnoxious and familiar cologne and even softer hint of copper in the air she knew her drinks had to be working overtime.
“Celebrating, are we?” Lamb asked as he waved off the bartender. He wasn’t there to drink. Not with the pain killers he was on. Even he wasn’t that stupid.
Veronica chuckled, flashed him a smile and drank the last sip that almost got away from the longneck bottle in front of her.
He nodded. Then he looked back to Meggie. “You call this girl a cab yet?”
“I was just about to,” she half-lied. Veronica had told her she would give her the word when she was ready for her to call a cab and she had agreed. So far Veronica had only been ordering more drinks.
“And I take it you didn’t card her either?”
“Hey! Ghosts can’t threaten people!” Veronica protested on her new favorite bartender’s behalf.
Ghosts? And here he thought he had been the one hit upside the head and feared brain damaged for his first two hours in the hospital. Instead he had managed to come out with fifteen stitches, some pain killers and special instructions on when and how he was allowed to sleep.
“Come on, Veronica,” he urged as he took her arm.
“No touching!” she told him as she wretched her arm from his grasp. “You can’t do that. You’re not even here. How are you supposed to take me home anyway? Which, by the way, I have no intention of going back to yet.”
“Special powers. All of us ghosts have ‘em,” he told her. He couldn’t believe that worked, but he chose to just be thankful that her answer was getting her to move.
“What about her tab?” Meggie demanded when she saw Lamb and Veronica almost to the door.
“You want a paper trail proving you were enabling a minor?” he asked her.
Meggie only scoffed. Wasn’t it just a couple of hours ago the radio proclaimed that the sheriff was dead? So much for that dream, she decided.
“This is a car,” Veronica stated when they were outside, disappointed. It wasn’t even a Balboa County cruiser.
“Very good. Now, what do we do when someone is so nicely holding the door open for you?” he asked as though he were speaking to a small child.
“You promised special powers. Should’ve known even ghost you is a liar.”
She settled into the passenger seat with a huff, but he only closed the door without a word. He knew he was going to be in trouble when he saw her Saturn parked in the lot, but he’d had no idea he would find her this far gone.
Yes, it had been put over the wire that he had died from his injuries but that had mostly been to flush out Mindy O’Dell. He hadn’t thought for a minute Veronica would believe it. Wasn’t she the one who was convinced he lived solely to torture her and would never die because of that? Hell, for all he knew it was that faith of hers that had kept him alive today.
“This isn’t my apartment,” she stated when he stopped his car in a complex’s lot which was not that of the Sunset Cliffs.
“No, it’s not. Because Keith isn’t home and you need someone to keep an eye on you in your current condition.”
Never having been inside Lamb’s humble abode before, Veronica couldn’t claim to know it well when he walked her inside. But clearly he knew the layout which told her that this was clearly his apartment after all as he led her through the living room. He only stopped walking with her when they reached his kitchen.
“I’m not hungry,” she told him quickly. Even the idea of food was beginning to make her a little queasy.
“I’m not cooking.” Instead he reached to the counter behind him and grabbed an aspirin bottle and a glass. He had made sure to keep a bottle in nearly every room, too many nights they had proven necessary. Ironically mostly because of the migraines Veronica would give him.
Veronica only watched as he turned on the tap and shoved the two tablets into her hand.
“Take those,” he stated as he handed her the glass of water.
“I don’t need any of your pre-hangover remedies. I’m perfectly a-okay.”
“You called me a ghost. Take those.”
“You could ask a little more nicely, you know,” she told him as she popped the pair of pills into her mouth and drank them down.
“Could. Won’t. Bedroom’s through there,” he pointed down the hall. “Last door on your left. Do you need me to walk you down there or not?”
“I told you I’m fine. And you can’t send me to my room.”
“I’m sending you to my room. And you’re going if I have to carry you.”
“You’re mean.”
He laughed, he couldn’t help it. She sounded like she was ten and he would be willing to put big money on the fact she had been waiting years to say those words to him. Maybe not that way, but that just made it that much funnier to him.
“See? Mean. You’re laughing at me. Again. Even ghost you is laughing at me.”
“You need to sleep off that cocktail your underage self was drinking in that bar. Preferably without throwing up in my bed and you’re not getting my oh so comfortable couch. Now I’ll ask again, do you need help getting to the bedroom or not?”
“No,” she answered as she turned to head out of the kitchen first to prove her point. She didn’t need his help, she was perfectly fine without him.
“Okay,” he told her before heading off to his living room.
Still too proud to admit she may have needed just a little help - damn swaying hallways - she managed to stumble a good four times before reaching that king sized bed of his. Landing almost face first in the middle of it, Veronica’s let out a contented sigh. Her last conscious thought of the night being that maybe ghosts weren’t so bad after all.
Hours later, Lamb awoke to the sound of his bedroom door being slowly opened and soon realized he had to have dozed off himself while he had been watching SportsCenter. A glance to his watch told him it was just after six. So much for those concussion-coma worries his doctors had, he was tired and sore but obviously wasn’t a vegetable.
“Mornin’,” he told Veronica as he sat up and gingerly rubbed the back of his head. No popped stitches, no blood, even better.
“I’m guessing you’re not really a ghost,” Veronica stated, sounding almost as embarrassed as she felt as she nervously pulled down the sleeves of her turtleneck down over her knuckles. How could she be expected to feel comfortable in this situation? She had thought Lamb was dead, a thought that hadn’t filled her with the happiness she had long thought it would, she had even gotten herself drunk over it and she had woken up, alone, in his bed of all places and now she couldn’t even make a quick getaway because he was awake and talking to her.
“Nope,” he sighed as he settled back against the black leather of his sofa.
“They said you died. It was all over the radio. Even my dad -”
He nodded. “Yeah. Diversion. Someone had to take one for the team. May as well be the guy whose head was almost used in a grand slam.”
“You slept out here?” she asked, making a mental note of the t-shirt and jeans he had clearly slept in and the muted ESPN.
“Shouldn’t have slept at all, but yeah. How’s the head?”
“Shouldn’t people be asking you that?” she smirked as she took another step towards him.
“Not bad for the morning after,” he shrugged.
She nodded. “Your remedy worked, I guess. And your bedspread doesn’t need to be changed out or burned or anything.”
“Good. So are you going to tell me why you were drinking last night? Considering you are still under the legal limit and all?”
“Long day,” she grinned sardonically.
“Long day that left you thinking I was a ghost when I found you in that dive bar. But the way, remind me to thank you for not ending up at the Fitzpatrick’s. One bat to the head a day is where I draw the line.”
She almost laughed. “You’re welcome.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Long day, I told you.”
“Fine. Come on,” he sighed as he stood and grabbed his keys from the coffee table and put his shoes on.
“Where are we going?”
“I’ll take you back to your car, then you can go home and hopefully get in before your dad realizes where you spent last night.”
“Is the big, bad deputy afraid of Sheriff Mars?” she smirked.
“Ghosts only fear the Ghostbusters,” he smirked back to her.
It was when they reached his door that she turned back to him again and said, “You know I’ll finish the job Batando started if you repeat this -”
“But -” he grinned.
“But,” she continued with a nervous smile, she couldn’t believe she was about to admit this even mostly sober, “you’re not allowed to die. Not at thirty. Not ever.”
“Is that so? Is this Veronica Mars admitting she would have missed me, by any chance?”
“Of course not. This is just Veronica Mars saying you’re not allowed to die. Ever.”
Lamb smiled even as she continued to deflect while they headed to his car. It was close enough.
The End