Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Click.

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"Lilly?"

"Batteries are dead."

"Let's go find some new ones then."

"Can't. Don't know where we keep them."

Veronica opened her mouth to ask how one can not know where the spared batteries are but then rethought that decision. The Kane house probably had it's own generator and no one thought about the flashlights and their need for batteries since no one probably ever needed the flashlights. That thought came with it's own question. "Lilly, how did you know where the flashlight was then?"

"Bought it. Duh."

"Of course. How silly of me." Why find a flashlight in your own home when you could just buy it? Silly question, really. "Tell me again why we needed the flashlight?"

"I wanted to see if I could use it to send messages to Logan."

"Using ... Morse code?"

From the look on Lilly's face, it was obvious she hadn't thought that far ahead. Although, Veronica thought, Lilly probably didn't think about it at all beyond needing a flashlight. Mansions in the 09 zip code tended to be surrounded by walls, gates, and other impediments to light beams. Lilly would need a spotlight to hit Logan's bedroom, assuming his balcony even faced the Kane house.

"You realize you both own phones, yes?"

"Veronica Mars, don't you know cell phones can be spied on? How can I send secret messages with a cell phone?"

"And you think a giant beam of light that can reach the Echolls' house is stealthy?"

"Why not? It works for Batman."

Veronica was getting a headache. "That wasn't stealthy, either."

Lilly shrugged. She didn't really care. The flashlight didn't work, so she was already bored.

Chapter Text

Lilly's eyes fluttered in dismay as she looked down at her dead body - hair matted with drying blood, the same blood making a mess of her pretty face, body clad in the dull pep squad uniform and spread unappealing across the cement next to the pool. This was how everyone was going to remember her? Couldn't Aaron have waited for her to change into something more sexy? Well, she supposed that he could have not killed her at all, but really, that was probably asking a lot - the bruises her left on her during their dalliances were more than proof that he was a violent man and stealing those tapes the way she did was probably not very smart. But she had wanted them. What Lilly Kane wanted, she got. Unfortunately, this time, what she got wasn't quite what she planned.

A muffled keen jarred her from her thoughts, and she looked over to see her brother collapsed next to her body, arms clasped around his knees, body rocking back and forth. Lilly sighed, lifting a hand to run through his hair only to find it going straight through. "Oh Donut."

Time sped forward as she stood impotently over her sibling, watching his breakdown. Soon, she saw her parents pulling him to the house. Following, she had a nasty niggling in the back of her mind, one that was proven correct when Celeste Kane started to strip her son's bloodied clothes from his body. She had a brief moment of grief in understanding that, even in the face of her murder, Duncan's future came first, that she was second-best in her parents' mind.

Wandering back out to her body, she saw her father's hand hover over her face before closing her still-openned eyes. Yes, she thought, don't let me see this, see you choose my brother over finding out who murdered me.

She gave into her pain for a brief moment, but it wasn't in her nature to falter, to overthink the neglect her parents have demonstrated all her life. Turning away from the scene of her death, she started to walk. Death would come for her soon enough, she assumed, but until then, she would stick by the person she loved most, the person who loved her best. Until death said otherwise, she would watch over her best friend, the one who would truly grieve for her.

Chapter Text

Logan spread his feet apart, anchoring himself before raising the - clearly very fancy, very old, very expensive - pistol he had just been handed. Staring toward the target, he cocked the gun, readying it.

"No, I can't do it. This pistol was not meant for us to play with like this."

Veronica blinked. Then blinked again just for good measure. "Really? You?"

Logan huffed even as a small smile spread his lips. "I do have some sense of decorum, Veronica, especially considering."

Veronica cocked her head as she looked around. "I think," she started slowly, "I think I became an 09er at some point in the last five years."

He laughed. "Veronica, look around. If you thought the 09ers worshipped me because I was the son of two movie stars, what do you think they'd do with you?"

"Fine. Whatever." She pouted as she walked to a nearby table. Picking up a longbow, she plucks the string then shook her head, choosing a recurve bow instead. In quick succession, she launches three arrows to the target Logan had chosen earlier. "Unlike the movies, you can't actually split a real arrow, but I think I won our bet anyway."

Logan's mouth had dropped during her quick demonstration. "When did you learn to do that?"

"I live in a castle, Logan," she said with a slight condescending tone, drawing out every sound of the word castle.

"European royalty party and do charity work, Veronica, not learn how to use ancient weapons and race cars," Logan replied, his voice taking on a mocking tone belied by the shine in his eyes.

"Not the boys," she replied airily.

He chuckled, frustration tinging the edges. "Why can't you ever have girlfriends? I know I'm a jealous bastard, Veronica, but you don't help any when all your friends are males, at least half of whom would walk over my dead body given a chance with you."

"Hey! I have Mac. Besides, the boys are fun. I've learned how to use a sword, got to drive a rally car, been in a submarine, jumped out of airplanes, though I did draw the line at learning to surf - had a feeling you wouldn't like me learning from someone not you."

Logan's smile was soft. "Yeah, good call."

"So I won, yes?" Logan nodded. "Good. I want my surfing lesson, with a side of a show of your prowess for the cousins. I want them to eat their words."

"Yes, ma'am."

Chapter Text

"Logan!"

"What?" His voice was annoyed, breathless from having sprinted straight from the pool in response to her panic, the reason for which appeared nonexistent.

"Why is there a goat staring at me?"

"Oh." He turned sheepish, embarrassed at having forgot about the animal currently staring down his girlfriend. "Dad bought a goat during his grieving widow phase and forgot to cancel it."

Veronica closed her eyes, taking a deep breath then promptly regretted it as her nose registered the smell of goat. "Should I ask?"

"He took up knitting, and some idiot convinced him that he should make his own wool."

"So he bought his own ..." Her eyes narrowed as the clues fell into place. "He bought his own cashmere goat. Of course. Did he also buy the services of someone to take care of said goat? By which, I mean, of course, the sheering of the wool."

He laughed. "Veronica, I don't think he even knew that wool came from goats before someone told him."

"Guess this means I won't find you passed out having pricked your finger on a spindle?"

"Yet another step dear old dad knew nothing about."

"Seriously? Does he think wool just magically appears when you shave a goat?"

"Yes," he deadpanned.

"Great. So what are you going to do with it now?"

"Not sure. What does one do with a goat?"

"Donate it to a petting zoo?"

"Petting zoo?"

She sighed. "I'll take care of it."

He smiled. "I know what a petting zoo is, Veronica."

"Do you? You grew up in Hollywood. Real petting zoo have goats, not child stars old before their time, even if they seem like lambs lining up for the slaughter."

Logan's smile twisted itself into a smirk. "No one wants to pet Lindsay Lohan, Veronica. She bites."

"Well, you'd know."

"Oh yeah? Pot, don't forget that I know the Disney star who gave you your first kiss, the one you kept in touch with even after you started to date Duncan."

A blush spread across Veronica's cheeks, though her voice was confident and steady. "There's a reason why no one knows about that, Logan."

"Other than the fact that he was 17 and you were 12?"

"Yes!"

Logan's eyebrows snapped upward. He had dismissed that story years ago - an innocent kiss between his sweet friend and a Disney star was as far from scandle as possible and of little interest. Veronica's blush deepened, realizing even Logan didn't know the extent of her first kiss.

"He was very, very high. I was wearing a sweater, a very soft cashmere sweater, funny enough."

"I remember him petting you," his words were slow, half submersed in memory as he was, "I remember thinking it was normal because I'd do that to you when you wore that sweater."

She chuckled, "You probably saw him coming down, then. We'd made out for an hour before, and I nearly lost my virginity that night."

Logan's eye widened comically. She could practially see steam coming out of his ears. "That's why we kept in touch. I wasn't high, knew exactly what I was doing, but he was very, very apologetic anyway. That's why we kept in touch for so long."

"But you don't talk to him anymore ..." Logan sighed, realizing he didn't want to know the ending of this story but knowing he could accurately guess anyway.

"We hung out a few times. He started to want more, and with everything going on ..."

"You're never allowed to make fun of my jealousy again. My revolving door of girls history is nothing in comparison to your every-boy-falls-in-love-with-me one." He laughs, the sound equal parts amusement and resignation. "Everyone always wondered why you and Lilly were friends since you were so different. Even me and Duncan, who knew you bettter than everyone but Lilly, never really understood. But now that Lilly's not around to take the spotlight off you, I keep learning that the two weren't that different after all.

A loud bleeting distracting the pair from their melancholy memories and directed their eyes to the pool.

Veronica took a step back. "I'm going to go call the Neptune Zoo. You go figure out how to get that thing there."

Logan turned mournful eyes to his girlfriend. She laughed. "Sorry. Maybe one of the guys have a van you could borrow?"

He pouted. "You're the least sympathetic girlfriend ever."

"I'd apologize, but you knew that about me, so you knew what you were getting."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, walking toward the goat. "Whatever, Veronica. I guess this means no sweater for your birthday."

Chapter Text

She looked down the hill at the rows and rows of grapes. "How did we get here?"

"Mom's grandfather's older brother's daughter's son invited us."

"You," she corrected. "He invited you. I'm still wondering what's happening, not to mention the untangling of whether they're still relatives if they're that far removed."

"Fine. He invited me. You're here for moral support. And yes, they're still relatives. You should know. I've seen your family tree. Literally."

"Moral support," Veronica repeated dryly, "You need moral support for harvesting grapes? Seriously, I know that you may not have the best impression of your family, but even they can only be so awkward when there's a bunch of other people around."

Logan shrugged. "You're also my getaway excuse. Your cousin owns that winery over there." His hands swept towards their left.

"He does? Why didn't I know that? Why do you?"

Another shrug. "You said he was your favorite, so I made an effort. It wasn't that hard. He's pretty cool."

"Is it sad that I know exactly which cousin you meant? I do have a lot of them."

"Bobcat, I'm still surprised you have a cousin you like. You're not so big on liking people."

Her nose scrunched in distaste. "Extenuating circumstances. I didn't have Mac or Wallace. I wasn't allowed to talk to you. I would've even settled for Duncan. I mean, I do like my cousin, but ..."

"Like I said, you're not so big on liking people."

"Whatever. Back to," she paused, sweeping a hand over the valley below, "this. Aren't we a little late? Wasn't the harvesting supposed to be last month?"

"It officially started last month, but I think it can take place any time after. Apparently these grapes are ready now, not last month."

"Guess they don't care if they're not making beaujolais nouveau."

His low laugh was amused, a hint of something sardonic in it. "Bite your tongue. No relation of mine would make anything so plebian as that."

Her answering sigh was heavy. "Why are your relatives snobbier than mine? It makes no sense."

"It is funny, isn't it?" His smile was small but sincere and bright. "I think I'll tell them your cousin is planning on making some beaujolais nouveau."

"He might actually. He isn't a snob like that, and we were thinking about doing a Thanksgiving thing this year since you and I are both Americans."

"Pretty sure it's just me."

She shrugged. "I was born in Neptune. Spent all of my childhood in Neptune. I'd argue I'm more American than you, Mr. Hollywood."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Veronica. Let's go pick some grapes so we can get out of here."

She laughed as she followed him in the rows of grapes. "And you say I don't like people."

Chapter Text

Logan's eyes followed her, taking in the confident stride. She wore close-fitting slacks, a white button down, and that leather jacket that he has come to identify with her. Her stride across the flight deck was steady and sure, as if it was something she did everyday.

According to his CO, two JAG lawyers were spending a few days with them reviewing some documents. They were expected to bring all their own equipment, and for whatever reason, instead of some seaman, Lt. Echolls had been volunteered to help them. The equipment pointed to the lawyers being undercover spooks. That was normal enough - the occasional CIA presence was relatively normal given where the boat was currently floating. His girlfriend's presence pointed to ... he had nothing. Last he heard, Veronica was still in Neptune brushing up on her PI skills, having given up the lawyer life. Also, he couldn't imagine his girlfriend holding her tongue long enough to complete the work required to become a JAG. Still, here she was.

"Sir! Ma'am!" He stepped into their line of vision, making sure to keep his eyes on Veronica's face. Other than a marginal widening of her eyes and a slight compression of her lips, though, nothing indicated she even knew who he was. "I'm Lt. Echolls. I was told to help you bring your equipment to your quarters."

She gestures toward their small pile of stuff, starting to pick up two laptop-sized cases. "Thank you for your help, Lieutenent. That's Cmdr Webb. I'm Lt Mars. We can handle most of the stuff, but if you could get the rest, we'll make it all in one trip and let you get back to you duties faster."

Webb chuckled. "I'm sure he can spare us a few minutes, Mars."

"Oh? And how would you know that, Commander?" Her voice was cool, bordering on belligerent.

"I specifically requested assistance from Lt. Echolls, so he should be free to help us out for the next few hours, at the least."

"You requested a lieutenant as your personal mule?" Veronica's voice was bone dry and sardonic. "I'm telling Jenny you're abusing your privileges."

"You want to reassess that comment, pot?"

"Oh please. You're telling me that you didn't purposefully request me for this assignment? That you had no idea who was stationed here?"

Logan's brain was in overdrive. Clearly, this Webb knew who Logan was in relation to Veronica and purposefully put them on a ship together. Less clear was why. Hoping for some answers, Logan hurried them all on their way toward less open spaces.

"In a hurry, are we, Lieutenant?" Webb's voice indicated he was very, very amused.

"Don't you want to put this stuff down, Commander?" Veronica answer, her voice sweet but sharp.

Logan sighed. "Your quarters are right up here, Sir, next to Lt. Mars. I assumed you'd want to put your stuff down after that flight."

Webb chuckled. "Lt. Mars flew most of the way. She's the one tired, not me."

Logan's eyes flew to Veronica's impassive face. "Your quarters are in here, Sir," he said in lieu of what he wanted to say, hands indicating a door, "Yours are next door, Lieutenant."

"Thank you. Why don't you drop your load off in here, and Lt. Mars and I will sort it out later."

Sliding the bag off his shoulders, Logan heard the snick of the closing door. Inwardly, he smiled. Years of training, fortunately, kept that smile from manifesting on his face.

"Talk, Clayton."

"Chill, Mars. Just thought you'd like to see your boyfriend."

"There are people besides him on this vessel who knows me, you ass! How the hell did you get this approved?"

"Are you kidding? I'm sure there are people hacking the cameras on this boat and placing bets on your boyfriend's reaction."

Veronica groan. "I work with children."

Logan cleared his throat, reminding the other two people that he was still in the room. "Last I checked, you worked with your father. In fact, as of the email I got a few hours ago, you were off to see a friend and might have questionable access to email."

"Well, Clayton is a friend, kind of, and my email access will be questionable since it would be preferable if I didn't access it at all for the next few days."

"Bobcat ..."

"Fine. Ask. I'll answer what I can. Or Clayton will."

"You're an officer in the Navy?"

"Yes. Sort of. I'm part of JAG. Sort of. Not really."

"Let me clarify. Your girlfriend passed the bar, finished ODS, and completed her NJS courses. She hasn't served her four years of active duty because, well, who cares?"

"That's me, meant to be compared to Tom Cruise forever."

"Well, you short, hot people have to stick together."

"Shut it, Webb."

Logan's face contorted. "You're the most insubordinate officer ever. And you know my call name."

Veronica laugh was low and warm. "Yes, well, I'm only an officer in the most technical, official of sense. The JAG said that unless he was desperate, he'd never allow me in his courtroom, and even then, he'd consider other options first."

"Whatever. His only problem with you is your problem with authority, and even then, if you could just keep your mouth shut, he'd install you in any office you choose."

"Rear Admiral Chegwidden? I wasn't aware he liked anyone that much."

One side of Webb's mouth lifted in an open-mouthed smirk. "Chegwidden may seem like a hard-ass, but he's got a soft spot for for people like your girl."

"Short, blonde, and completely reckless?"

Veronica gave an indignant huff as her partner let out a full-bellied laugh. "That too but I mean the drive for truth and justice regardless of what stands in her way."

He was still laughing as he pushed them toward the door. "I'm taking a nap, Mars. Come find me in two hours ready to work. Don't make me come find you." He turns to Logan, eye filled with mirth. "We're here for a week. I'm sure you'll find some time together, so don't tire my girl out. We have actual work to do."

The door slammed in their faces as Veronica's jaw dropped. "He's such an ass," she seethed quietly.

"Maybe but he did give us the next two hours together." He gently herded her to the room next door. "Let's go catch up."

Her answer was Sahara dry. "Neither of us can afford to look like we just rolled out of bed, so keep your mind out of the gutter, Echolls."

His voice pitched low, causing heat to curl inside her. "I'm sure we'll figure something out."

Chapter Text

"What the hell is up with that bed, Veronica?"

"Honestly? I think it breeds throw pillows - identical, ostentatious throw pillows. I once took them and hid them just to see, and the bed returned to normal hours later looking exactly the same. When I asked the maid, she said she didn't know, either. There's apparently a room where there's always enough throw pillows to make the bed. She didn't even bother looking for the pillows I hid." She pouted. "I waited the whole day just to make sure she wouldn't get in trouble, and it turns out there's a room with pillows just waiting. Apparently, pillows go missing off that bed all the time."

"You're telling me there's a room filled with pillows that look like Versailles rejects?"

"Yup. And the maid refuses to tell me where, only that it's in the servant quarters. I'm not entirely convinced there's not a little man in that room spinning straw into gold and then making pillows."

Logan smirks. "Well, you are a princess living in a castle."

"That story involved a peasant girl spinning gold for the king after her father bragged about it." Veronica's voice is sardonic, dry. "I'm not a peasant, and my father would never be so stupid."

He chuckled. "What do you think happens to the dirty pillows? Do they get thrown out? Or is there a magical fairy washing them?"

Veronica wrinkled her nose. "Oh no you don't. I refuse to get on that bed, much less do what you're thinking on it."

"I just wanted a nap. Get your mind out of the gutter, Veronica."

"No. Not even a nap. That bed scares me."

"What, you think the throw pillows can secretly assemble into some fluffy monster with the ability to smother you with softness?"

She gave him an odd look. "You play too many video games."

"At least I'm not the one afraid of a bad."

"Look at it," she pouted. "It's ridiculous. It's the kind of opulence that got Marie Antoinette sent to the guillotine."

Logan picked up a small, square-shaped pillow, feeling the almost-down-like softness. Given that he thought there was every chance the gold was real, he had expected something much rougher in texture and much less squishy. Holding it out to his girlfriend, he school his face into an earnest expression. "Hug it, Veronica. Don't be afraid of it."

She laughed despite herself, grabbing the pillow and throwing it at his face. "Yes, very satisfying. A perfect throw pillow."

Chapter Text

"Miss? Miss? Are you all right? Do you need me to call someone?"

The girl looked heartbreakingly young and even more vulnerable. "No," she sniffled. "No. I'll be okay."

The nurse nodded. "Of course, sweetheart. But it's okay to want someone."

"No," she said more firmly, "I'll be okay." With that, she swept out of the waiting room, back straight and head held high.

The nurse sighed. Working at the free clinic, especially one just outside the city limits, she had seen a handful of girls in similar states - young, teary-eyes, still in party dresses. The signs were relatively obvious, especially considering the nearby 09 zip code. It wasn't that the boys there were malicious, but too much entitlement and too little parental involvement led to a distinct lack of regards and understanding for possible consequences. That led to young girls like the one she just saw, too young yet having experienced one of the worst things any woman could endure.

She wished she had caught the girl's name, been able to follow-up with a kind word, but the paperwork hadn't even been filled out. No paper trail would follow, providing both proof and reminder. Somehow, though, the nurse though that was purposeful, that the no-longer-innocent girl had chosen that, and the nurse felt infinitely sad about it.

Still, the girl had not been her patient. She had seen younger, more traumatized, and more grief-stricken girls. Something about this one tiny blonde stood out, though. It was as if, even in the face of evil, her light refused to dim. Whatever it was, the nurse wish that girl well, hoped that she eventually found peace.