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“Which. One. Logan.” Veronica deliberately enunciates, icily repeating her demand through clenched jaws.
Stiff with rage, the diminutive blonde is fronted up inches from her belligerent ex’s chest, pugnaciously challenging the boy who’s towering above her, seething with bottled hostility.
“Well golly gee Veronica, if I’d known I’d be called to account, I’d have kept a list, perhaps tried to remember all their names.” Logan’s casually sneered response accompanied by a disdainfully dismissive wrist flick, is at odds with the hostile energy vibrating off him.
Meeting her stony glare with one of his own, he locks n loads an additional salvo that’s finely calculated to enrage her further.
“If it helps narrow the field, I do know I steered clear of blondes. My medical team tell me they trigger my PSTD.” He tosses arrogantly down at the fulminating woman, his eyes blazing with ill disguised fury at her unexpected interrogation.
Only Veronica fucking Mars would have the balls to blow back into town after six months of radio silence, invade his new home and start demanding answers to unspecified, insanely random questions! Logan thinks irately.
Talk about an ambush!
Of course, he thinks angrily, he should have seen this coming, after all he was finally starting to settle down and have some semblance of a life in the aftermath of cyclone Mars. Naturally she’d sensed this from Stanford and decided it was time to wreak some more destruction, Logan fumes, narrowing his eyes menacingly at the one woman wrecking crew in front of him.
Five minutes ago, he’d been enjoying a quiet beer with Dick. Two minutes ago, he’d answered his front door in response to imperious pounding, and was stunned as a blue eyed tornado swept past him, laying her own unique trail of destruction as she violated the sanctity of his home.
Now he’s just trying to keep his conflicting feelings in check and work out what the hell’s going on, while she glares at him like he’s done something abhorrent to her dog.
It kills Logan that his first instinct on seeing her at his door was hope. Damn, he really was a fucking mess, he decides angrily, almost as pissed at himself as the woman in front of him.
The last time he’d seen the goddess of war she’d practically eye fucked him in front of the entire Hearst Cafeteria, and then, poof, she was just gone. It was like she’d been a figment of his imagination, something his mind had created while trying to sleep off a bad batch of tequila.
Finding out that she’d transferred without a word had fucking hurt.
Hell, if nothing else he was her oldest friend, and he didn’t even rate a bulk text or carrier pigeon to say goodbye? No, in true Veronica fashion she simply up and ran, leaving poor Mac to break it to him as gently as she could.
And now, far from crushing hearts and dreams at Stanford like he’d thought, she’s standing in his previously peaceful open plan living room preparing to crucify him for sleeping with other women?
Nope, not this time Veronica, you can take your self-righteous schtick somewhere else, he decides wrathfully.
“So, tell me Veronica, how far down today’s To-Do-List was ‘Accuse Logan of wrongdoing’? I do hope I at least sit somewhere between correcting the grammar on Neptune’s graffiti and holding the Dali Lama to higher moral standards.” Logan quips with cold venom.
Veronica rolls her neck stiffly, expels a long forced huff through her nose and clenches her fists, trying to relieve the tension rolling through her and regain a measure composure.
Damn it! You didn’t come here to fight with him Veronica, she tells herself. But god help me he’s an infuriating jackass, she fumes.
For a moment at door, she’d thought he was pleased to see her. Then he’d slipped straight into character, fixed that cold smirk on his smug face and lent arrogantly against the door jamb, like he was daring her to make a move.
Taunting her is never a smart move and damn it all, he knows that, so he’s getting what he deserves, she’d decided as she properly lost her temper and stormed past him into the house, his blunt, sarcastic “Do come in.” wafting down the short passage after her.
This is not how she’d envisioned her first visit back to Neptune playing out. Damn her dad and his thanksgiving themed guilt trip. Next year he can eat pizza and watch the big game on his own!
So much for her carefully crafted plan to get in and out with no collateral damage.
It had sounded perfect on paper. Arrive the day before Thanksgiving, catch Wallace and Mac, walk Backup at a beach carefully selected for its poor surf, spend the holiday with her dad and then hit the road out of town at sunup the day after.
But nooo, Mac just had to be off camping with her family, leaving Veronica with time to visit her favorite hoodlum.
The look of consternation on Weevils face when she strolled into his uncles shop this morning would have been comical if it hadn’t immediately set her spidey senses tingling and pushed her into full head tilt interrogation mode.
Curse the Mackenzie’s and their unreasonable love of nature! If not for that Veronica would have stayed blissfully unaware of the entire situation, she thinks regretfully.
While she’d rampaged purposefully into Logan's house, sending a terrified Dick fleeing in the process, Veronica had no idea what she was doing, or what her opening line was supposed to be, so she’d just spat out the first question that came to mind.
“Which one?” She’d demanded irately when she’d whirled around to confront Logan face on.
Logan had looked momentarily confused - to be fair, she’d only articulated two of the six words in her head - but he’d recovered well and immediately engaged in battle, launching verbal sorties with vintage high school Echolls pinpoint accuracy. All that was missing from the picture were frosted tips and pukka shells, thought Veronica, grudgingly appreciative of his aggressive defense in the face of her surprise attack.
Only Logan knew her well enough to place the emotional blows exactly where they could cause the most pain, she thinks, wincing internally at his onslaught, but keeping her outer façade of wrathfulness firmly in place.
“Arm, Logan, try to keep up!” Veronica spits out, cutting off whatever scathing diatribe was about to leave his lips.
“And why did no one tell me?” She hisses dangerously, the secondary question popping instinctively from her mouth.
Her initial fear induced adrenaline receding, as outraged indignation of being deliberately kept in the dark takes over fueling her ire.
She notes the minute surprised widening of Logan’s stormy eyes. He really doesn’t think I know, she realizes.
However, Logan hadn’t spent years hiding his feelings and honing his armor for nothing, his recovery is immediate.
“I can’t think why Veronica, your bedside manner being as delightfully charming as it is!” The derisively sneered insult is accompanied by dual dismissive wrist flicks, Logan’s dramatic gestures becoming increasingly flamboyant the longer the interrogation continued.
“Oh yes, that’s right, lucky me, I’ve got such a devoted and caring ex girlfriend!” He continues mockingly.
“But honestly Veronica, I would have thought Angel of Death rather than Angel of Mercy was more your style these days.” Logan says contemptuously, the deep scowl marring his handsome face firmly in place.
Admirably containing her instinct to eviscerate him, Veronica looks up silently, narrowly considering the boy she’s missed for the last six months, gripping her lower lip between her teeth, pondering if she’d actually finally lost her mind by coming here to confront him.
She knows Weevil thinks she has. The biker had done everything in his power but physically restrain her.
Veronica wouldn’t be surprised if he was hot on her heels to stop her from doing something stupid.
Stupid like showing up unannounced on your ex boyfriends doorstep? The doorstep that you absolutely shouldn’t know the location of because you care so little you no longer keep tabs on where he lives? Is that the stupid thing you shouldn’t have done Veronica? She quietly questions herself.
Once she’d prised the full story out of the biker there’d been no stopping her. Not even a calming Wallace chat or logical Mac argument could have held her back. The desire to get to Logan, to have solid evidence in front of her that he was still breathing was all consuming, nothing else had mattered at that moment.
Veronica had felt like throwing up the entire short drive to the modest beach front property, sickened by Weevils terrifying revelations.
Emotions had raged through her like a maelstrom as she played Weevils words on repeat in her head while she navigated the familiar streets in her Saturn. Terror over what Logan had endured, guilt that it was her fault combined with stomach churning fear that worse could still be in store for him. Add in the fact that all those negative emotions were warring with overwhelming feelings of love, thankfulness and relief and it's no wonder she feels like she's on an emotional tilt a whirl.
The only thing she knows for certain is that she’s angry and someone should pay. But she has to let it go because someone already has paid. That someone being the noble jackass frowning down at her, baffled by her continued silence, the heat in his eyes slowly being replaced by confusion.
Veronica huffs, then sighs gently, softening her glare to mildly irritated.
“Which one Logan?” She repeats quietly, relaxing her posture, the fight draining out of her body.
Shoulders slumping, acknowledging defeat but keeping his eyes focused on the unpredictable woman in front of him, Logan wordlessly indicates his right arm.
Veronica hesitantly reached out with a small, tremoring hand and tentatively ghosted the very tips of her fingers down the afflicted limb, leaving a tingling trail of goose bumps on his smooth, lightly tanned skin.
She shouldn't be touching him, rationally she knows that, but she needs to. She has to learn about his suffering from his skin, to map any new scars, to know beyond doubt that he was healing from the hits that he’d taken for her.
Silently she repeated her trail, Veronica’s eyes filling with un shed tears when her clever fingers find the deep indent on his forearm just under his elbow. The bruising and cast may be long gone but the physical evidence of the attack is written permanently into Logan’s bone.
“How’d you find out?” His voice is low and gentle.
If she hadn’t been so distracted running her finger tips up his arm, she might have smiled at Logan’s ability to change tone from venomous to humble in the blink of an eye.
“I may have threatened Weevil with unnamed consequences.” Veronica says with studied vague flipness, her eyes flicking up briefly to meet his, before refocusing on mapping his skin, pinpointing a very small pink scar, the only remaining visible sign of his ordeal. Clearly his surgeons had been top notch given what she learnt about the severity of his injuries.
There's no need for Logan to know that she threatened to find Gory and go nuclear on him if Weevil didn’t pony up the truth, she decides.
“Nah V, you can’t. Not after what he did for you.” Weevil’s emphatic response to her threat had been immediate.
Her faithful soldier had looked her squarely in the eye, seeing only her determination to get to the truth, he’d shaken his head ruefully and reluctantly given her his take on the events of that fateful night five months ago.
It’d been pure luck that the Latino man had been in the wrong place at the right time to see a black, windowless van pull into the abandoned warehouse, and four collage aged guys pull a familiar, bound, struggling figure out of the vehicle and into the center of the dim, dusty space.
The idiots hadn’t even bothered to disguise themselves. Clearly they didn’t know who they were dealing with, he’d thought at the time.
The smug preppy looking kid who was obviously in charge had faced off with Echolls, who was wearing his best devil may care ‘fuck you’ face, while two of the accomplices held him back.
Truth be told, Weevil had been tempted to leave, knowing from bitter experience that tying Opie up doesn’t render him harmless, it just pisses him off and makes him more dangerous.
The biker could tell from Logan’s stance that he was spoiling for a fight, he’d seen that same attitude plenty of times before. In fact, Weevil had just decided that there was no need for him to get involved in something that wasn’t his problem, when he caught Veronica’s name.
The unknown smug collage boy was smiling maliciously, holding 8” x 10” glossies up in front of Echolls, flipping through them casually, pointing out his favorite aspects, toying with his prey, whose expression had morphed from studied arrogance to outright murderous.
This asshole gringo must be that Gory kid, the one responsible for the tape, the savvy biker had quickly deduced, reversing his decision to bail.
Weevil only caught snatches of the conversation but heard enough to make his blood boil. Even if he hadn’t, Logan’s cold, determinedly uttered response of “Do whatever you want to me, but you leave Veronica alone.” left him with no doubts as to the nature of the threats being made.
While the smug asshole watched on, using fists and feet, three of the Russians had laid into Logan, who made no effort to resist, he just stood and took the pounding, barely uttering a sound apart from the occasional grunt.
Even when Gory had given an evil grin and had his crew extend Logan’s right arm, he never flinched or begged. Weevil had grimaced instinctively in reaction to the sickening crunch as the tire iron swung by Gory impacted his old adversary’s forearm.
Weevil was no fan of Logan's, but he admired the guy for the lengths he’d been prepared to go to protect Veronica in the face of the despicable threats issued against her by the Russian mobster.
That’s why he’d ultimately stepped in to save his old adversary. Kicking Echolls ass himself for a fair cause was wildly different to standing idly by, watching him potentially tortured to death to protect Veronica from these gutless wonders.
Along with two of his cousins, he’d strolled confidently out of the warehouse shadows, revealing himself to the young Russians, playing the part of street smart gang leader he’d spent years perfecting.
He’d offered Gory feigned congratulations on giving Logan a long overdue lesson and suggested his crew save the Russians the trouble of disposing the rich boys battered body, no questions asked.
Obviously used to underlings offering to do his dirty work for him, Gory had shrugged his consent, reminded Logan in no uncertain terms that he could get to the ‘blonde bitch’ anytime if Logan felt inclined to retaliate. He'd then driven off with his minions, leaving a barely conscious, bloodied Logan on the uneven concrete.
Weevil had waited only until the sound of van's tires had faded before having one of his boys run for their car, and the other pick Logan up off the ground.
Weevil himself had collected the photos that Gory had tossed on top of Logan’s lifeless body - pictures of Veronica going about her day in a town Weevil didn't recognize. That’s why Opie had taken the beating no questions asked, the biker had realized, the threat against Veronica was real, they really did know how to get to her.
While Veronica continued her slow exploration of his arm, Logan shook his head in disgust at the other man’s weakness. Fuck Weevil, she’s ninety pounds soaking wet, and you’re so scared of her you spill your guts at the tilt of a head? No wonder you lost your gang! Logan thought uncharitably.
He’d deal with Weev’s later, but right now he needs to know what’s going on in Veronica’s head, her silence is unnerving.
Is she upset because she didn’t know, or is it possible she still cares?
There’s very little of the optimist left in Logan, but he allows himself a tiny glimmer of hope that he still holds a place in Veronica heart.
The prior months haven’t just been physically painful for Logan, they’ve been emotional agony as well.
Sure, Logan’s had plenty of willing ‘nurses’ happy to distract him with all the sponge baths, pharmaceutical grade meds and any other treatment plan related euphemisms he could handle, but nothing erased the pain caused by Veronica’s defection from his life.
Even the leggy redhead with the finest ass its ever been Logan’s privilege to snort coke off, had failed to distract him from thoughts of Veronica for any longer than a frenetically blurry weekend.
Nope, not even the decision to move out of the Grand was untainted by thoughts of Veronica. He’d decided that he couldn’t stay any longer because of the memories, and then promptly bought a fucking house solely because he thought she’d approve of the security set up!
Even his decision to buckle down and concentrate on his studies was made with her opinion in mind.
Dick had shaken his head at that particular turn of events, snarking disappointedly, “Dude, you think Ronnie will FedEx your balls back anytime soon?” at his partially reformed buddy.
While Logan muses on the current state of play, Veronica is consumed with her own thoughts, waves of guilt wash through her as she recalls flashes of Weevils sickening story.
God, that he would make such a sacrifice for her when she’s treated him like he didn’t matter is so very Logan. She didn’t need Weevil to tell her that he never hesitated. Gory could have killed him, but he rolled the dice to protect me anyway, thinks Veronica sadly.
I don’t deserve him. He deserves someone who loves him unconditionally, someone who will accept the devotion and protection he gives so willingly. He deserves someone whole, not a broken down mess like me. She thinks, eyes welling with tears to Logan’s immediate consternation.
“Hey, Veronica, no, don’t, it’s okay.” Logan assures the woman, wrapping his arms around her as a pent up sob involuntarily escapes her body, wondering privately what the hell was wrong with him that this woman can cause him to go from furious to besotted idiot inside two minutes.
“It’s not okay Logan, you could have died, and for what?” Veronica says distraughtly.
“I just wanted to protect you, that’s all I ever want to do.” Logan says quietly, dropping a light kiss on the top of the head pressed into his chest, taking the opportunity to breath in her shampoo, the tiny glimmer of hope in his heart flaring into something stronger.
“I thought you were across that particular character flaw? I seem to recall some prior debate on the subject.” He gently jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Logan’s rewarded with a watery snort and a weak smile from the woman in his arms.
“My hero.” Veronica says with a self-depreciating sniff.
“My damp hero.” She clarifies, making a futile, apologetic attempt to wipe away the tear stains from the chest of his olive green tee with one of her fingers.
“I think that’s what they call role reversal.” Logan says with deceptive innocence, his cheeky smirk flashing as Veronica picks up on his subtle innuendo.
Really the boy is incorrigible, she thinks shaking her head, unable to resist a slight smile and eye roll.
Only Logan could turn her getting his shirt wet into a sex quip while she’s having an emotional breakdown discussing his potential attempted murder!
“And she didn’t even blush, whatever are they teaching at Stanford?” Logan observes lightly, tisk tisking with faux outrage and tapping Veronica playfully on the nose.
Veronica recognizes the clever strategy, after all she practically invented flirty diversion! Nice try Echolls, she thinks, relieved for the respite that allows her to recover some of her composure.
As delightful as allowing herself to be distracted by indulging in sexy banter with Logan would be (especially if it leads to where it usually leads!), it’s not going to work, there’s still some burning questions she needs answers to, she decides.
Like Wallace! Her sneaky little BFF had to be in on this, she realizes, the tiny v between her eyebrows creasing with a flash of insight.
“Wallace. You sent Wallace to babysit me.” It’s not a question.
The surprise extended visit from the basketballer in the middle of his season making much more sense now.
Missed me indeed Fennel, snorts Veronica internally, taking herself to task for falling for such an obvious ruse. Fact is, she’d been so happy to see a familiar friendly face that she’d taken Wallace’s lame excuse at face value and lapped up weeks of exclusive BFF bonding time.
“Yeah, well, I was… incapacitated. And after some debate it was decided that even if we slapped on some elbow patches and thick rimmed glasses, Weev’s still wasn’t going look the part in the hallowed halls of Stanford, so Wallace it was. Point guard, bodyguard, same thing right?” Logan explained dryly while slowly walking them backwards until he feels the couch hit the back of his knees, gracefully maneuvering them down so that Veronica was perched on his lap.
Incapacitated. What a charmingly mild, all encompassing word for extensive reconstructive surgery, a cast up to his shoulder for six weeks and then months of painful physio, he thinks wryly.
He’d only gotten back on his board last weekend, but a return to weightlifting was still at least a month away by his Doctors estimation. At least thanks to Mac, who hooked him up with the latest voice to text software, he'd been able to dictate his papers so he didn’t have to take Dick up on his well meaning offer to to be his scribe. Hell, with Dick's unique approach to phraseology, god only knows what the outcome of that would have been for his GPA or enrollment status! Logan thinks with a smirk.
“What about Gory? Is it over? Are you safe Logan?” Veronica looks straight into his eyes and voices her most pressing questions. Hoping for a direct answer but knowing the odds of Logan coming clean if he was still in danger were somewhere between her being able to buy pants that don’t need shortening off the rack, and Vinnie Van Lowe being voted Humanitarian of the Year.
“So far it seems that way.” Logan tells her, meeting her gaze evenly. “I haven’t seen him around on campus since, and my,” he hesitates briefly, “security detail, tells me the threat has been ‘neutralized’, whatever that means.”
Veronica’s lips quirked at the thought of Logan needing protection given his motivation.
“I’m aware of the irony, thanks.” He says ruefully, using the full range of his expressive eyebrows to convey his chagrin over him being the one requiring protection for once.
Say what you will about Clarence Weidman, he thinks, the guy is effective. How Jake knew what’d happened, Logan wasn’t sure, but when CW showed up in his hospital room with an offer to, how did he phrase it? “Keep an eye on the situation”, given his busted ribs and immobilized arm, Logan had thought it prudent to cover his own defenseless ass for once.
Veronica had her own theories on why Logan hadn’t seen Gory around. Her arrangement with Jake Kane was explicit; Logan and her dad were protected, or she went public about the Castle.
Given that Gory had violated that agreement, she assumes Jake took corrective action to protect his powerful friends.
If she had to guess, the wannabe mobster had been shuffled off somewhere he would cause less public embarrassment to the shadow organisation.
However, guessing is not Veronica’s MO, especially not where Logan’s safety is concerned. So she resolves to pay a visit to Jake and remind him that ongoing feuds with Logan Echolls tend to escalate into the public domain with alacrity! Her mother’s former lover is going to have some explaining to do, she muses, mulling over the possible outcomes and machinations that could ensue from that conversation.
Suddenly acutely aware of the silence that’s grown up between them now the verbal foreplay is out of the way, Veronica casts around for a new, non confrontational topic of conversation. Preferably one that’ll distract her from Logan's hand tracing slow, soothing circles in the small of her back.
“So new place?” She says politely, swiveling in Logan's arms to inspect what she could of the room from her exceptionally comfortable vantage point, her peripheral vision catching a mop of blonde hair quickly retreating from view through the floor to ceiling windows.
“It is.” His voice is like warm honey against her ear.
As long as Veronica remains firmly ensconced on his lap, Logan’s happy to indulge her in all the small talk she desires.
The sheer sensation from the warmth of her body and the smell of her perfume is doing things to him that should be illegal fully dressed, he thinks ruefully.
“Nice.” She’s playing for time and they both know it.
“I like it.” He says softly. Veronica doesn’t need to look at his face to know he’s wearing his small, quirked smile.
“Sooo, how ‘bout them Padres?” She swings for a topic. Strike three, sloppy banter Veronica, she chides herself.
“How ‘bout dinner?” The casual response is accompanied by long, warm fingers grazing her cheek as they tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
“I could eat.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “Where?”
Keep it casual Mars, it’s just dinner, she reminds herself. He might just want to catch up, perhaps apologize for scaring the ever living hell out of you, she rationalizes. Yeah right, Logan Echolls apologizing for antagonizing dangerous mobsters to protect your honor, it’s like you’ve never met him or something Veronica!
“Stanford.” Having made the decision to roll the dice, Logan commits to the big gesture, deciding if he’s fucked up at least it’ll be spectacular.
The succinct answer gets her full attention, and she makes the rookie mistake of turning to face him front on, only to be met with the mesmerizing wattage of those intense dark eyes locked on hers.
“Ah what now?” She’s aiming for casually puzzled but given the way Logan's eyes lighten with happiness she knows she’s failed, even she had to admit to hearing the girly wistfulness in her tone.
He wants to come and visit me? Oh my god! Is he offering to move to Stanford? The thought ricochets through her brain, which quickly formulates a montage of welcome images of the two of them building a life together in the picturesque collage town.
“Food consumption, at your favorite restaurant, in Stanford. Then you can show me your new place.” Logan expounds while her mind works overtime through all the permutations his words conjured.
“Quid pro quo Veronica. You’ve seen mine, now I want to see yours.” The final statement is punctuated by a cheeky eyebrow waggle and matching grin.
You know if you want to dissuade the lunatic Veronica, you really shouldn’t smile at his sex puns, she argues with herself as she feels her mouth involuntarily twist upwards.
“You’re a crazy person.” She tosses back playfully.
“I’ve been called worse.” Is the shrugged nonchalant response, backed with silent relief there’s not a new, pint sized PI shaped hole in his front door right now.
Veronica shakes her head at the impetuous man, who responds by pulling her closer, delighted that his bold play seems to have landed better than anticipated.
“Jackass.” The blonde quips with more tenderness and less snark than she’d intended.
“I’d like to be your Jackass again.” The intense look and heart wrenching sincerity is back.
“Hmm, I’d have to check, there’s a lot of applicants for that position.” Veronica’s light joke is at odds with the soft smile and gentle tone.
God Veronica, get it together, she mentally kicks herself. Here he is basically offering you his heart on a platter after having the shit beaten out of him on your behalf and you can’t give him a straight answer? What the hell is wrong with you?
Luckily for the perturbed blonde, her emotional short comings aren’t lost on the loving brunette who’s carefully watching the emotions flit across her mobile face.
“Can I show you my qualifications?” Logan gently prods.
“Buy me dinner here first?” Veronica’s smiling shyly back at him.
“You drive a hard bargain Mars, but okay.” Logan says, grinning gleefully and tapping her nose playfully again.
The couple smile contentedly at each other, happy to stay right where they are for the time being while they discretely take in any changes their separation has wrought.
Both think the other is thinner. Veronica notes Logan’s tan isn’t as rich as usual, while he lightly traces her cheek and observes the tint of darkness under her blue eyes that suggests she hasn’t been sleeping well.
“Do we need to do something about Dick?” Veronica queries off handedly, wondering if she’s unfairly run the dopey surfer out of his home.
“He’s safe enough in the back yard. It’s fully fenced, he won’t get out onto the road.” Logan jokingly brushes off any concerns for his buddies wellbeing in favor of renewing his familiarity with the pair of rosy pink lips he’s missed so intensely.
Perhaps coming home isn’t always a bad thing, Veronica muses, closing her eyes and lifting her lips to meet Logan's.