Work Text:
Veronica remembers what it was like to lay her head on Logan's bare chest, smooth and firm under her cheek, and listen to his heartbeat in her ear, letting the rhythm move through her as her own heartbeat fluttered and switched to match. She longs now to reach over the tubes and wires connected to that same broad expanse of muscle and skin under all the bandages and press her ear to him once more. Instead, she's confined to the other side of the hospital bed, her heart beating out of time to the sharp beep his body registers on the monitor next to her.
Here he is suspended, somewhere in an unholy place between death and life, as is she. The problem is he does not comprehend his fate, whereas Veronica is keenly aware of her life hung in limbo.
His brain is alive, his body just barely, as he hovers in this coma. It's been three months. Three months since the explosion that nearly killed him. Three months of chaos. Three months of grinding emotional pain. The thought twists Veronica's stomach as she slips her hand past the bed rail, resting it gently on his hand. It takes a second for her to gather some shiny optimism before she speaks, hoping he can hear her.
“Happy anniversary, Logan. Three months today. And they said we'd never last. Pffft.” Waving her hand in the air, she wrinkles her nose at him playfully, on the offhand chance she can Bewitch him back into being.
It still feels strange to say the words out loud, in the stillness of the space. As she moves through her days, she's found herself talking to Logan in her head, as if he was on a continual Skype from some far off place and has found herself, over time, doing the same when she is with him at the hospital as well, hoping to transcend his stasis with her thoughts.
Pony got a piece of glass in her paw on the beach yesterday. She's fine, but still limping a bit.
Dick keeps calling for no reason. Yesterday, he showed up with the pants he borrowed from you – in case you needed them, he said.
I had a craving for Mama Leone's and accidentally ordered for both of us. You'll be unsurprised to find out, I ate both in one sitting. Hashtag sorrynotsorry, babe.
Running her finger along his long, slender hands, she focuses on his missing wedding ring. When the nurse gave it to her, as they worked to save his life behind some curtain in the ER that day, it was covered in blood, and she wiped it on the hem of her white wedding dress, now spotted with red. It was a testament to Logan's physical strength that she found anything left of him after the explosion. The backpack Penn placed behind the passenger side having slipped under the seat, launching the unattended seat up through the roof of the car, the force throwing Logan from the driver's side, out the open door, and across the back alley. Her brain has blocked out the actual sight of finding him lying twisted on the ground, one of the Neptune city workers who saw the blast doing his best to keep heart compressions going while his compadre called for an ambulance. Jane, Logan's therapist, told her that forgetting parts of the event was the mind's way of protecting us from things we were unable to handle and Veronica wonders how long it will last. She could barely get out of bed each morning as it was – adding back another layer of consciousness may just kill her.
The creaking of the door opening behind her breaks Veronica's introspection, and she turns, wondering if it's Sylvia or Felicia on attendant duty today.
Instead, the towering form of Clarence Weidman greets her, looking down at her with piercing deep eyes, and she jumps a bit in shock, her hand involuntarily jerking back to her body. Standing, she crosses her arms, trying to create a wall between C.W. and Logan.
“What do you want?”
Nodding, Weidman closes the door behind him, leaning against it as if to make sure no one can enter and Veronica’s senses turn up to alert.
“I'm here representing certain government agencies regarding your husband and his work overseas, Veronica.”
The word husband gets caught in Veronica’s chest and her muscles tighten around her heart.
“He can't really speak to you about his missions right now – being in a coma and all.”
Arching his eyebrow, C.W. smirks in that way that makes Veronica think he's well aware of Logan's minute-by-minute progress, or lack thereof.
“Indeed. It seems that Logan had not completed his final report on the mission he came back from before this event occurred. I am here to discuss with you his transfer to a better hospital, where he can get the proper care he requires until he wakes up from this coma and after.”
Until he wakes up.
The doctors told Veronica it could be days, weeks, months, or even years before Logan regained consciousness - there was no telling when it would happen, or if it would happen. All she knew was that so long as his heart was strong and his brain was active, she would do whatever she needed to keep him breathing and alive until his eyes opened again. His military insurance covered most of his hospital expenses for now, and Cliff was working on proving to the Echolls estate lawyers that the money Logan was squirrelling away for their eventual retirement from his father and mother’s ongoing movie residuals payments, even if it was only one 30-cent cheque at a time.
“He’s fine right here.” Glancing over her shoulder at Logan, Veronica closes her eyes, trying for a second to will him to wake up and speak for himself.
“Veronica, I don’t think you understand what I’m offering.” C.W. steps away from the door, coming to stand at the foot of the bed, grasping the metal edging as he stares up at Logan’s lifeless body. “The U.S. Government is willing to pay for his care at Cedar Sinai in Los Angeles for as long as is needed. They are an internationally recognized facility that can provide specialized care for him - with physiotherapists and access to some of the top neurologists in the United States. Neptune General can keep him alive, yes, but if you transfer him to this hospital, we can ensure he is properly taken care of so when he wakes up, his recovery is faster and specialized to his individual needs, at no cost to you or your husband’s estate.”
“You sound like a TV insurance salesman.” Veronica snips, a wry grin pulling on her lips. “The deep voice, the brooding look..you should consider the career change when this whole man-of-mystery thing goes to shit.”
Smirking, his face softening for a split second before he regains his stoic facade. “You should take me up on it then.”
“I’m not transferring him up to Los Angeles - that’s hours away. How would I visit him every day?”
“You could move there as well, to be near him. I’m sure I can make some arrangements for you to be compensated…”
“Stop right there...I’m not leaving Neptune. My father is going for surgery soon, and I need to take care of him, plus I have a business and a home and a…” She pauses, her eyes scanning the room as her brain balks at the word. “...life.”
As soon as it leaves her mouth, she knows the word is a lie. She has no life here - not anymore. What semblance of a life she did have was with Logan and now, without him there, it felt nothing like it had before. Most days she is numb, other days the pain so intense she cries out as if stabbed by a ghost. The only time she seems to feel anything that resembles normal is when she visits Jane every second day, and talks about everything, just to hear the words Jane had given Logan said back to her, but this time it is coming straight from the source.
“I’m giving you the opportunity to pursue that life, Veronica. Let us take care of Logan - you take care of yourself. You can visit whenever you want - stay at whatever hotel you choose. And when he wakes up, I can assure you that we will do everything to get you out to him as soon as possible.”
“And all you want is what? The intel that may or may not be in his brain?” Scoffing, Veronica rolls her eyes.
“I don’t think you comprehend the serious nature of what your husband was doing for the Government. They feel it is important to protect him at all costs.”
“If your job was to protect him, C.W. I have to say, you did a pretty shitty job.” Her hand broadly sweeps over Logan, presenting his present condition.
Pursing his lips, Weidman shakes his head. “This wasn’t in the line of duty. This was about you, Veronica.”
A direct hit and Veronica flinches. It was about her. Another added trauma to the piling list that makes up her life. It was her fault really, she explained to Jane - for a second, she allowed herself to toy with the idea that she deserved the love that Logan was offering, and gave in to the sheer depth of her love for him. But she knew that the universe wouldn’t let her be happy for long. Every time she tried to grasp at the love she wanted, it all turned to dust in her hands. This didn’t happen to other people - only her - and she knew that it was because, deep down, she was cursed by her past. She was the unloveable, and Logan paid the price for even trying.
Gathering the last of her emotional strength, Veronica’s voice comes as a whisper, unconvinced herself of the words she is about to say. “It wasn't my fault.”
“I’m not saying it is, but it was not my fault either, so let me help you now, as best I can.
A resolved sigh escapes Veronica’s lips and she closes her eyes, her hands dropping lose at her sides. “Fine. You win.”
Staring over at C.W. she sees he takes no joy in his victory as he nods his acceptance, stepping towards the door.
“You won’t regret this, Veronica. I’ll be in touch in the next day or so to get the transfer started.”
She watches him disappear through the door, still frozen in shock as to what she just agreed to - she is giving Logan up, to keep him alive. Maybe, she muses, it is for the best. If she had let him go sooner, maybe they wouldn’t be this way. But she was selfish and cruel and wanted him all to herself, knowing full well that she never deserved the happy ending.
Turning back towards him, she grasps his hand once more. Once upon a time, she told Logan to take the long way home. Maybe this was the long way they had to travel, separate yet together. She would take care of her dad, Pony, and even herself. He would have the care he needed to eventually wake up.
Leaning over him, carefully as so not to tangle herself in the wires and tubes, Veronica brushes a stray lock of hair from his forehead, as he had done to her so many times before. Kissing him gently, she presses her forehead to his, and she lingers in the small intimacy of just being this close to him.
“We just couldn’t take the short cut this time, could we?”