TITLE: Black Hole Squared (1/1)
AUTHOR: vanessagalore
CHARACTERS: Veronica, Logan, a few others
WORD COUNT: 2,660
RATING: NC17
SUMMARY: Logan and Veronica discover a story about Neptune.
SPOILERS: Spoilers for the whole series, especially season 3.
WARNINGS: Cursing, sex.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any rights to Veronica Mars. This story is written as a tribute only. Beta'd by zaftig-darling and boobsnotbombs. All remaining errors are my responsibility.

Note: This is a fic written a few months ago for the Dreamwidth challenge community vmfictitious. It was intended as a "review" of Afrocurl's great story, 'The Black Hole'. This story will make more sense if you reread that story first.

You can find it on her fic site at livejournal, boxfullomatches dot livejournal dot com slash 14230 dot html

I do not believe she has posted it here on fanfiction.

Sometime after season three, Veronica and Logan in a relatively functional relationship

Veronica spotted Wallace single-handedly holding down a table for four in the food court. Slightly out of breath due to her long run-walk from the journalism seminar in the distant Reed Building, she dropped her book bag on one of the chairs. Wallace looked up, startled, and just a little too casually slid a magazine into his own backpack.

"Got something interesting there, Fennel?"

"Not really."

"Give." Veronica put out her hand decisively.

Wallace sighed. "Remember, I'm just the messenger."

"How bad is it?" Veronica took the proffered copy of The Atlantic.

"Page 44."

"'The Black Hole,' a tale of Neptune by 'Anonymous'," Veronica read aloud. "Great, another sordid exposé of our fun little town."

"This is...well, it's a little different."

Veronica skimmed the story. "'He' and 'she', it never says who it's about."

Dick sat down heavily, his tray crashing onto the table. "So you saw it? You want to get in on the pool?"

"The what?"

Wallace rolled his eyes as Dick explained, "Well, you know, there's some betting going on about who it's about. Some people are saying it's about Jake Kane and your mom."

"My mom?" Veronica shrieked. She flipped pages frantically.

"You know, getting it on. Bumpin' uglies."

"No way," Wallace interjected. "It's gotta be—" He broke off and avoided Veronica's questioning gaze.

"Spill!"

"Don't get mad."

Veronica looked at him witheringly.

"V, you know I love you." Wallace put his hands in front of his face protectively. "I think it's you and Logan. You know, star-crossed lovers."

"We're very happy, you know. We're not star-crossed."

"This week," Dick muttered, elbowing Wallace.

"Ass," Veronica commented.

Logan appeared, bearing two loaded lunch trays. "What'd Dick do now? I got your burger and fries, Veronica. And a chocolate shake."

"Whipped," Wallace whispered to Dick, who snorted in agreement.

Veronica glared at the two of them. "Hope you two don't need any investigating any time soon. Did you see this?"

Logan sat down in a chair and began unwrapping one of the burgers. "No. What is it?"

"More fiction. About Neptune."

Logan stopped fussing with his burger and took the magazine. His face darkened as he read.

"Logan, it's just a story." Veronica lowered her voice. "It's nothing. Nobody reads the Atlantic."

"Anonymous is gonna be on Oprah tomorrow," Dick announced.

"Dick, if you value your life, you'll shut your mouth."

"Okay, okay. PMS, much?"

Logan dropped the magazine and walked out of the food court without a word. Veronica grabbed the magazine and her book bag and followed him, asking Wallace to wrap up their lunches for later.

She caught up to Logan sitting on one of the stone benches in the courtyard, his head in his hands and his breathing fast and labored. "Logan, calm down. You're going to hyperventilate."

"It just never fucking ends," he muttered. "I start feeling okay and some dickhead dredges it all up again. When I get home tonight, there'll be twenty messages from reporters asking how I feel."

"Forward all your calls to your lawyer. Your cell and your landline."

Logan waved his fingers in the air, a cross between 'whatever' and 'it's-fucking-useless'.

"Give me your phone, darling," Veronica insisted. Several minutes later, Logan's lawyer was apprised of the situation and both phones were set to dump their malice on someone professionally equipped to handle it.

"Thanks, I guess. Fucking paparazzi."

"You haven't even run into one yet, and you're already letting them destroy your day," Veronica pointed out. "Perhaps you're giving them too much power in your life?"

"No more psychology classes for you, bobcat."

"It's kind of cool."

"What?" Logan turned to look at her.

"Wallace thinks it's about us. That's kind of cool, don't you think? That people think our relationship is worth writing about?"

"Ugh."

"You know, 'epic'?" Veronica started giggling.

"I am getting really sick of you throwing that into my face every time you want to score some points. I was drunk, okay? When are you going to let it go?"

Making quote signs with her fingers, she continued, "'Spanning years and continents. Lives ruined, bloodshed, epic.'" Veronica dissolved into hysterics. "Very dramatic!"

"You are so getting tickled." Before Veronica could jump up, Logan grabbed her around the waist and made a halfhearted attempt to tickle her before dragging her onto his lap in a tight hug. He whispered in her ear, "Thanks."

•••••

Later that night, after three earthshaking orgasms and the neighbors to the left banging on the wall in annoyance at their loud exultations, Logan and Veronica lay quietly in the bedroom of Logan's beachside apartment. Veronica pretended to snore a little, and Logan chuckled. "You're not fooling anyone, Veronica."

"Huh? What's that? Go back to sleep."

"You're waiting for me to go to sleep, and then you're going to read the story again."

"Am not."

Logan threw off the covers and retrieved the magazine from Veronica's book bag. He tossed it to her on the bed. "Go ahead."

"Logan, it's okay, I don't have to—"

Logan just shook his head. "Veronica, please go ahead. I know it's killing you."

She sat upright, sleep obviously not on the program. They read the story, their heads bowed together. Veronica traced a pattern on Logan's arm as they concentrated, and Logan focused on keeping his emotions in check. After they finished, the two of them sat contemplating for a long time. Finally, Veronica broke the silence. "If it's you and me, who's the assassin?"

"Duncan. Or Wiedman, on Duncan's orders. Who else could it be?"

"Vinnie, working for Celeste?" Veronica offered.

"He likes you. He's a dirty-dealing, highest-bidder, amoral con artist, but he likes you."

"True. But the writer doesn't know that."

"You're assuming the writer knows us."

"Don't you think they do? It feels too real, too honest. Somebody's telling about real emotions, true vengeance."

Logan sighed. "So you think it's Duncan?"

Veronica avoided his gaze. "Logan...I think Duncan thought we'd be together eventually." Logan kept silent. "I...I let him think that when he was leaving. I mean, I love him, I'll always love him, but not like that. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it was over for me. When I found out he'd been visiting Meg in the hospital...it hurt me. He made the decision to run without consulting me, and then pushed me to help him—he put me at risk too."

"It was a shitty thing to do."

"But you don't really think Duncan would write—"

Both of them were remembering a poem Duncan had written sophomore year that had angry, bitter imagery of violence and destruction. It had been featured as the cover story of the Navigator Literary Journal that semester.

Veronica cleared her throat, and lied. "I think Duncan is concentrating on his daughter, and wouldn't take the chance of publishing a story that might lead the feds right to his door."

"It could be about you and me and Duncan as the assassin, and somebody other than Duncan wrote it."

Veronica looked nauseous. "Like who?"

"Carrie Bishop—didn't she publish a short story last year? Or anyone from high school. Well, anyone except Dick."

"It's true, I think we can eliminate Dick from the list of potential authors. Unless hell has frozen over."

"Nah, hell freezing would be too easy."

Veronica said tentatively, "You know, Wallace said a lot of people think it's Jake Kane and my mother."

"I didn't think that many people knew about Jake and your mother," Logan observed.

"Some of the reviewers for my dad's book hinted that they had been having an affair. I think a lot of people suspect it. It sucks, every once in a while, somebody looks at me funny and I wonder if they're thinking that I'm really a Kane and not a Mars."

"That's crazy talk, you're so like your dad it's ridiculous."

"I know, right?" Veronica's voice wavered. "But, see, the thing is, if it's my mom and Jake Kane in the story, that means the assassin is my— my dad."

"Or Wiedman, hired by Celeste, right? Your dad's not an assassin, even in fiction." Logan put his arms around her. "Veronica...why are we torturing ourselves?"

Veronica leaned against him. "I want to know who did this. I'm not going to rest until I find out who wrote this."

"Of course you're not."

Veronica stuck out her tongue at him and then suddenly went rigid. "Wait...what if it's Piz, or Gory?"

"Piz?" Logan said dubiously. "I could see Piz writing a song. Or maybe even a double album about his tragic love affair with you. But a story? This is well-written. This isn't Communications Major writing. And Gory...he's behind bars in maximum security federal prison."

"You think they don't allow people to write fiction in prison?"

"It's just not his style. He's more cement overshoes. Veronica, we're being completely ridiculous. You know some of the novels that have come out since Lilly died have gotten everything wrong."

Veronica sighed deeply and relaxed in his arms. "You know what's the worst?"

"No, tell me."

"If it's us...that people think...that people assume we're not going to make it. That it's going to be fucked up between us forever. Goddamn epic, but not happy ever after." She trembled a little in his embrace.

Logan smoothed her hair with his hand and shushed her, calming her like a wild animal. "Veronica...have you accused me of murder lately?"

She snuffled and laughed. "No."

"I think that's progress. C'mon, let's get some sleep. You know I got a few Hollywood connections. Let me see if I can get someone to pretend to be seeking the movie rights. We'll figure out who this is."

"That's an excellent idea."

•••••

Later that night, Veronica got up and reread the story five times. She kept coming back to two phrases.

»He thinks of...the one who came before her—long blonde hair playing against his hips.«

»Twenty years since they lost someone close to them.«

It had to be Lilly. Yes, Veronica had had long hair for several years...but the story makes it sound like the one who they lost had long blonde hair, and that had to be Lilly.

Wait...someone else had long blonde hair. Someone who died.

Veronica shook Logan awake. "Logan. Logan! It's Meg. It's Meg!"

"Wha— What are you talking about?"

"The one who died," she explained impatiently. "So it's me and Duncan, meeting every year in secret, and you're the assassin."

"I'm in hell," he mumbled and tried to roll over.

"No, look. It's got to be, they want everyone to think it's Lilly, because everyone always thinks of Lilly."

"I'm the assassin? Okay, first of all, if you were boinking Duncan on the sly for twenty years, I'd lose all respect for you."

Veronica punched him on the shoulder. "He wasn't that boring in bed!"

Logan mocked in a high voice, "'Oh! Oh! Harder, sweetie! Maybe if you moved it around a little!'"

"That's it, no blow jobs for a week."

"It's not Meg."

"And why is it not Meg?"

Sheepishly, he admitted, "I think it's us. I told you, we're epic."

Veronica laughed.

He continued, "And I don't care if the assassin is Duncan, Piz, Gory, Lamb back from the dead or even that asshat Troy." Logan grabbed Veronica and flipped her underneath him on the bed. He trapped her hands with one of his and rescued the magazine from where Veronica had dropped it. With a smirk, he narrated:

»One hand moves up her torso to caress one breast as the other slides lower and begins to play with her satin bikini. Rubbing his hand over her pubis—«

"That's not my pubis, you idiot."

"Oh, I have to start all over now! Sheesh!"

»One hand moves up her torso to caress one breast as the other slides lower and begins to play with her satin bikini. Rubbing his hand over her pubis, he notices the way the kiss they've enveloped in changes—there's a hitch in her movements—«

"Veronica! There's a hitch in her movements!"

"Oh, sorry." Veronica rolled her eyes and heaved herself up violently, making the mattress bounce.

"Va-va-voom, baby. Let's see, where was I?"

»There's a hitch in her movements, a noticeable shift in her tongue's playful patterns—«

Veronica stuck out her tongue.

"Sugarpuss. We're fucking epic. Will you play along? I believe the script is calling for French kissing. Teeth chattering, lots of spit, some sucking action."

"If I agree to play tonsil hockey, will you stop narrating?"

"Try me and see."

Veronica pulled Logan's face to hers and kissed him, her tongue jostling with his, and released his mouth with a loud 'pop'.

"Pretty nice! But we're just getting to the good stuff. Now murmur something good in my ear."

She whispered, "Something good."

"Ooh, baby." He continued to read in his best Hollywood announcer voice.

»She murmurs in his ear, something simple yet evocative, before biting down against his earlobe just as his hands demand more from her. She moans as his hands knead her body into submission.«

Veronica was having a hard time keeping a straight face, but she played along, nipping Logan's ear, and of course he pretended to be injured, yelping loudly. However, his hands were on autopilot, caressing and seeking the juncture of Veronica's thighs, and when his fingers slipped between her legs and curled into her just the way she liked, her gasp was all real.

•••••

The next morning, when his eyes fluttered open to hers staring at him, she whispered, "'Dueling for control, they each twist and turn around each other looking for an advantage.' I like it. It's perfect for us, don't you think?"

"Maybe." He reached over and tucked her hair behind her ear. "You might be right. It might be somebody who knows us."

•••••

Vancouver Island, several weeks later

In a quiet suburb of Victoria, British Columbia, Veronica knocked on the door of a small, unostentatious house.

Duncan Kane opened the door ruefully. "I've been expecting you, Veronica."

"Took me a while to track you down. Your publisher's assistant has a big mouth. Nice story, by the way. Mrs. Murphy'd be proud. Kind of a big risk, though, don't you think?"

"I had something to say."

Veronica pushed her way into the house.

"Come on in, Veronica," Duncan remarked, amused. "Make yourself at home."

Veronica turned around. "What I really liked...was the way you used the story to confess to killing Aaron."

"Moi?" Duncan replied sarcastically.

"Yeah, you. I wondered at the time. And then when Lamb swept the investigation under the carpet, blaming it on a mysterious deranged fan who somehow escaped the multi-state police dragnet, I assumed that Kane money was involved." She snorted. "A deranged fan, my ass."

"That was Mommy Dearest's idea."

"Pretty clever. You kept the story vague enough so most people wouldn't get it. But you knew I would understand."

"Aren't you glad Aaron's dead? Tell me, Veronica, would you have liked to run into him at the Neptune Grand while you were shacking up with his son?"

Duncan's bitterness was overwhelming, and Veronica felt nauseated. "Duncan...I'm so sorry."

"Did you ever love me, Veronica?"

"I think...I think I loved the idea of you and me. But, Duncan, it's pretty good between me and Logan now. We're not perfect. We've been through a lot. But it's...it's good. We're good together."

"I see."

"Do I have to worry that you're going to hire a gunman to punish me and Logan?"

"No. The story...that was my revenge."

Veronica opened her mouth, but there was nothing left to say. She left Duncan without another word and went home...to Logan.

To something that was epic, after all.