Title: Coming Home to You
Pairing: Logan/Veronica
Rating: Mature
Summary: Six months can feel like an incredibly long time when one is deployed overseas. Sequel to I'm Giving It All To You
Author's Notes: Apologies for taking so long to start posting this. I originally intended to get it up in July, but I was busy writing for the July challenges at the same time, and then real life got in the way a bit and it ended up being pretty slow-going. I will try to update regularly, but I can't guarantee it will be every week at the moment.
Chapter One
Logan's been on the ship for three days when he finds it. It's Sunday morning and he's in the gym, iPod on shuffle, warming up lightly on the treadmill when out of nowhere, he hears her voice.
"Hey, Logan."
"Veronica?" He stiffens, head shooting up, eyes glancing around frantically.
Of course, she's not here; the only other people in the gym are a couple of guys using the weights machines over in the corner.
"So, this is really strange, talking to my laptop and not to you…" Her voice continues and Logan hits 'stop' on the treadmill, slowing his pace as he squints at the iPod in his hand.
"What the hell?"
"…but the idea came to me after reading one of those deployment forums," she's saying, "so here we go."
He presses the pause button and studies the small screen, blinking at the track title in incomprehension: For When You Find This.
"Huh?"
Pulse quickening, he navigates back through his music, scanning quickly through the playlists. Sure enough, settled right between the Foo Fighters and Green Day, is a new playlist—one he knows he didn't upload—entitled: 'For When You…'
He frowns. If Dick's been messing around with my iPod again, I'll kill him. Even as he thinks it, he knows it's not true, because… well, that was Veronica's voice.
Intrigued, he re-selects the playlist, mouth dropping open when he sees the track titles: For When You Feel Lonely, For When You Need Cheering up, For When You Feel Pissed, For When You Miss Me…
Pressing his lips together to keep from grinning, he restarts the first track from the beginning.
"Hey, Logan." Her soft voice, so familiar, filters through his headphones again. "So, this is really strange, talking to my laptop and not to you, but the idea came to me after looking through one of those deployment forums, so here we go: I've made you a playlist to help you get through the next few months. If you're ever feeling like crap, or want a boost or whatever, just select the track that fits your mood and maybe it'll help." This time, Logan can't prevent the wide smile that spreads across his face. "Wherever you are right now, I hope you're doing okay. Stay safe, all right?" There's a pause before she speaks again, this time her tone containing a hint of flirtation. "Oh, and FYI, you might want to check your photo and video folders too. Uh, maybe not in public though."
His eyebrows rise at that.
Lord, what have you been up to, Veronica?
What's more, how did she get into his iTunes account? He puzzles over that for a second, before he remembers. Of course. He gave her his laptop password a few days ago, and he'd gone and left the thing in plain view in the beach house on Wednesday. He grins to himself, pressing stop and flicking through the playlist again, this time scrolling all the way to the bottom, his eyes widening comically when he sees the last couple of track titles.
Holy shit, Veronica.
"Uh, hey." A brusque voice from his left interrupts his thoughts. He looks up to find a short stocky guy with a buzzcut looking at him expectantly. "You gonna use the machine or what?"
A quick glance around the gym shows it has filled up in the last few minutes and most of the machines are occupied. Logan's tempted to abort his workout in favour of exploring the unexpected additions to his iPod, but he hasn't exercised properly since he stepped onto the carrier on Thursday, so he nods.
"Yeah. Sorry, man."
Pushing thoughts of Veronica to one side, he re-selects the programme on the treadmill and starts up his workout playlist. He can investigate the extent of Veronica's iPod meddling later.
Two hours later, when he's back in his stateroom, he slides up onto the top bunk and pulls out the iPod again, eagerly scrolling through the playlist again and clicking on a random track. He's been assuming she's made a selection of songs designed to fit his various moods, but when he hears nothing but her familiar voice, he realises this is something totally different.
She's recorded herself, just talking to him, telling jokes and anecdotes, reminiscing about the time they've spent together. It's really thoughtful… and kind of adorable. Fully aware he's not alone in the room—one of his bunkmates is lounging on the bunk opposite, reading a magazine—he forces himself not to grin stupidly, while also trying not to think about what the tracks entitled For When You Want Me and For When You're Horny might contain.
He waits until he's alone a few hours later to scroll through the photo and video folders. She's uploaded a couple of photos of them on the beach—ones she snapped when they were eating lunch and fooling around in the sand the other day—and there are a couple of her alone in the beach house too, wearing the outfit he declared his favourite a couple of weeks ago: that all-black, leather jacket ensemble.
There's another folder too, this one containing a collection of photos of her perched on his bed in the beach house in various states of undress. Nothing too revealing—because, unlike Dick, she's obviously aware that nude photos are a no-go—but they are definitely tantalising enough to get his imagination going. Even though a couple of them show her in her underwear, there's one photo in particular that catches his attention. She's clad in one of his white uniform shirts, only half-buttoned and sliding off one shoulder. His spare cover is perched on her head and her tousled hair flows over the other shoulder. She's pouting at the camera, a come hither look in her eyes, and it nearly undoes him.
After the photos, he's not sure what to expect from the videos, especially since he has no intention of breaking the military's strict 'no porn' policy, but seems he doesn't need to worry; she's just uploaded a few clips of herself talking to the camera, making quippy jokes, and telling him to be safe and to come back home. Just something to remember her by when he's feeling lonely, she says. He stops the videos before seeing too much of them, wanting to save them for another time—he has six long months to get through—and switches off the iPod.
As he lies back on his bunk, arms behind his head, and stares at the ceiling, he can't help but wish he'd done something similar for her too.
He doesn't get online until Monday evening. The first few days on the ship are always crazy busy, filled with finding his way around, attending all the briefings and figuring out what the hell he's supposed to be doing for the next six months. It's only his second long-term deployment, the first being right after he got his wings, and so while the work itself—the briefings, the flight planning, the flying—is all familiar, he hasn't had to coordinate it from the confines of the ship in more than 18 months.
When he logs into his account, he finds five emails from Veronica, the sight of her name on each one causing a strange sort of flip in his chest. He was hoping to hear from her, but he wasn't expecting five emails already.
From: vmars at aol. com
To: logan. echolls at navy. mil
Date: 21st Jan 2016 09:34 PST
Subject: Just wanted to let you know…
…. that as of 2 hours post-departure, your car is still running like a dream. Sadly could not check your house was still standing as was busy burning rubber down the PCH. Man, that BMW goes fast!
Will keep you posted on the state of the tires when I get back from drag racing against the PCHers at the quarry tonight.
Missing you already,
Veronica
From: vmars at aol. com
To: logan. echolls at navy. mil
Date: 22nd Jan 2016 11:03 PST
Subject: RE: Just to let you know…
Logan,
Car is safe and well after its exploits at the quarry last night. You'll be pleased to know she won at the (drag) races.
Veronica
From: vmars at aol. com
To: logan. echolls at navy. mil
Date: 23rd Jan 2016 16:22 PST
Subject: RE: Just to let you know…
Car still fine, though the poor baby seems to be missing you. She wouldn't let me switch from your favourite radio station this morning, so I had to endure the dulcet tones of the Backstreet Boys all the way to the hospital :(.
Veronica
P.S. How the hell do you work the sound system in your stupid car?
From: vmars at aol. com
To: logan. echolls at navy. mil
Date: 24th Jan 2016 19:52 PST
Subject: Taking it back…
You know what? After driving Dad's old hunk of junk this morning, breaking down on the PCH and having to wait over an hour for the tow truck, I take back everything I said: yours is the best car ever – can I keep it?
Veronica
Logan chuckles at that, before sobering as his eyes scan over the email again. Veronica seems jovial enough, but he knows her…or at least he knows the Veronica of nine years ago. The lack of endearments after that first email, keeping the topic light, making jokes about his car…it's all textbook deflection. After the last couple of weeks together, he thought she was getting better with the whole expressing herself thing; or at least she said she was trying, but with his deployment thrown into the mix now, he can't say he's surprised she's reverting to form.
He clicks on the fifth email, relaxing a little when he sees it's longer than the others.
From: vmars at aol. com
To: logan. echolls at navy. mil
Date: 25th Jan 2016 17:12 PST
Subject: Life in Neptune
Hey Logan,
Hope all is shipshape on the…ship (yeah, yeah, bad pun, I know). Are you getting settled? Done any flying yet? I guess you're busy and can't check your emails right now.
Dad came home from the hospital today, but he's on strict bed rest, so I've got him set up in his bedroom with a TV and a couple of books about the Padres. He's not happy about it, but hey, them's the breaks.
Did some catching up with Wallace over lunch at Neptune High after I got back from San Diego—that was a surreal trip down memory lane; we even sat at our old table in the quad. Weevil came by the office in the afternoon to discuss his case. I feel bad for him, you know? He's worked so hard to stay clean and get his life together, and now Lamb and his corrupt deputies are ruining it all. Don't worry, I'm going to get to the bottom of this whole planting evidence thing, you mark my words.
As you've probably guessed, I'm going to re-open MI while Dad is out of commission. The plan is to get my licence back so I can be all official-like again. Mac's kind of working for us too, but only part-time since she's still at Kane Software.
So, that's pretty much it on this end.
Miss you and stay safe,
Veronica
Logan re-reads her words a couple of times, before opening a new message and composing a reply.
From: logan. echolls at navy. mil
To: vmars at aol. com
Date: 25th Jan 2016 22:41 PST
Subject: RE: Life in Neptune
Veronica,
Sorry, I couldn't get online until tonight.
I'm glad your dad is home now. Hope he's making good progress.
Sorry about Weevil. I heard he went straight, got himself a wife and kid. We've always known the Neptune Sheriff's department is shady, right? But if anyone can take them on, it'll be a Mars (or two). Good luck with the PI license.
Let's set the record straight, shall we? I do not now, nor have I ever, listened to the Backstreet Boys. Come on, Veronica, you know N'Sync will always be my boys. BTW, you'll find the instructions for the sound system in the glove box.
Not surprised my baby won those drag races: she's awesome! But no, you can't have her, she's mine. Don't you hate shiny, expensive cars anyway?
In other news, I discovered something interesting on my iPod yesterday…I'm sure you know what it was. I was in the gym at the time, so it was something of a surprise to hear your voice in my ear (and now I bet you're imagining me falling flat on my face on the treadmill…rest assured, that didn't happen).
Thank you. As amazing as your snickerdoodles are (and Chaos and Bilbo agree wholeheartedly), hearing your voice and seeing your gorgeous face (and other parts of you) on my screen whenever I want, beats cookies any day.
Missing you too… I keep waking up and expecting you to be there with me, but alas I'm stuck in a single bunk bed in a tiny, metal room with five other men—two of whom snore loudly, and one who talks in his sleep.
Things are good here—no flying yet, just a load of drills, briefings and familiarisation exercises. We do have a few training flights planned this week though.
Not sure exactly where we are right now, but I know it'll take a few weeks to get where we need to be. Even if I did know, I couldn't tell you anyway. Or if I did tell you, I'd have to kill you (yeah, okay, that was an ill-advised pun given the circumstances of our reunion).
Logan pauses, fingers hovering over the keys. He feels awkward writing all this stuff down—he would much rather be able to talk to her in person. Glancing up at the Skype bookings calendar, then checking the schedule in his pocket, he does a couple of mental calculations, then returns to the email.
Are you free to Skype later this week? Say, Thursday, midnight your time? I can't guarantee that I'll make it—a pesky little thing like flying might get in the way—but I'll book the slot and hope for the best.
Speak soon,
L
Logan sits back in the chair with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. Is Speak soon too formal? Should he tell her how much he misses her, how much he wants to touch her, to have her right here with him? No, he decides, that'll just make him sound needy and he doesn't want to scare her off. It's not like she's been overcome with declarations of love in her emails either. Maybe it's best to keep things light for now.
He hits send, then as a distraction, checks through the rest of his inbox, firing off a quick email to Dick and replying to a couple of work-related messages. After ten minutes of determinedly not hitting refresh repeatedly to see if she's replied, he notices the time and realises how late it is in California. She's probably in bed already. Logging out of his account, he heads down to the Ready Room, where Chaos and a couple of their squadron-mates are getting in a heated debate over a card game.
When he briefly logs on to check his emails on Tuesday morning, there's a new message from Veronica.
From: vmars at aol. com
To: logan. echolls at navy. mil
Date: 25th Jan 2016 22:41 PST
Subject: RE: Life in Neptune
Midnight? Damn, what's a girl gotta do around here to get some beauty sleep?
Just kidding—of course I'm free to Skype Thursday night. I'll be sitting by the laptop, pining away, until then.
Talk to you soon,
V
P.S. I wondered how long it would take you to find your iPod surprise. Glad you like it.
P.P.S. N'Sync, huh? Guess I know what you'll be getting for Christmas this year
As it turns out, Thursday is manically busy for Logan. His training sortie today—the third one this week—isn't until late afternoon, but with four briefings to attend before then, plus flight planning and the time needed to complete The Walk up to the flight deck, he's up and in the gym before 06:00 local. The carrier is somewhere in the middle of the Pacific now, which, from his calculations, means local time on the ship is about three hours behind California time.
His sorties have been straightforward so far; the weather has been good, the ocean calm, so it's just been a case of getting used to taking off and landing on the carrier again, because it's been months since he's had to launch from a runway only 700 feet long by 100 feet wide. Back on dry land, he has double the width and up to 10,000 feet of runway to play with, but here, no such luck. And of course, the ship is always moving, so not only does he have to concentrate on not crashing into the ocean, he also has to worry about the fact that the 'ground' is not even stationary while he's doing it.
The morning passes in a flurry of briefings and planning, followed by lunch and then even more planning, and finally at 1600 hours, he's suiting up for the sortie. It's only a 1.5-hour flight today, but when he goes to hit the head beforehand, he can't help but recall Veronica's comments the other day. He chuckles softly as he joins Cosmo, his WSO, in the Ready Room.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing." Logan shakes his head, unable to completely erase the smirk on his face as he grabs his helmet, pulling it on. "Inside joke. Come on, let's do this thing."
They head up to the flight deck, where Bilbo is already waiting with his WSO. Logan and Bilbo will be flying the second wave, completing some manoeuvres over the sea, and then attempting to land the aircraft on the first approach. Yeah, chance'll be a fine thing. He's already missed the landing wires four times this week, taking three attempts to land on Tuesday afternoon and another three yesterday morning. He really needs to nail it first time today or his CO's going to be on his ass.
After receiving the all-clear from the ground crew, they head over to the jets, check they're good to go and climb aboard. Logan might have four years of flying experience behind him, but the initial adrenaline rush of taking off has never quite gone away, especially not when he launches from the carrier. No matter how long you've been doing it, it never gets any easier, or safer.
The flight deck controller directs him to position the jet in the shuttle, attaching the towbar and holdback, and the flight crew raise the jet blast deflector behind the plane. They give him the signal and he feels his heart-rate accelerating, his hands becoming sweaty inside his gloves, as he blasts the engines, going full power and cycling the rudders to build up the thrust. The flight deck controller hands him over to the Shooter, who will release the catapult. Logan salutes him, letting him know he's ready and in a sudden jerk, the catapult is released, the pressure of the steam hurtling the jet forward as it gains speed at an incredible pace.
Zero to 165 mph in two seconds. Take that, Ferrari.
He focuses all his attention on getting the plane in the air and not nose-diving into the ocean. He exhales in relief when the aircraft ascends quickly, the carrier falling away beneath it. Pulling up the gear, he dips the right wing and then turns so he's parallel to the ship's course, before ascending to 500 feet and increasing his speed.
Logan can't keep the grin off his face as the jet climbs into the sky, surrounded by brilliant blue, only a few wisps of white, fluffy clouds on the horizon. There is seriously nothing in the world like this feeling. The adrenaline, the excitement, the pressure of several g's pushing him into the seat when he rolls the plane out. One might even say it's better than sex…and until a few weeks ago, Logan might have been inclined to agree. Not anymore though.
"Woo, yeah!" Cosmo's voice comes through his headphones. "Nothin' like it, eh, Mouth?"
"Got that right."
They reach ten miles out from the ship and reconvene with Bilbo's jet in the air. They take the aircraft through their paces, testing the controls, making sure everything is working as it should, before getting in a few manoeuvres, practicing weaving in and out of each other, and keeping in formation side-by-side. They spend almost an hour in the air before preparing to land, something that fills Logan with both fear and dread every single time he has to do it.
After all, landing a jet on an aircraft carrier is one of the most dangerous things you can do. Seven hundred feet of runway is nothing. A car driving at 70 mph on the freeway has a stopping distance of almost 350 feet. Logan will be approaching the carrier at 150 mph and coming to a stop in just 320 feet. The flight deck has three steel wires stretched across it, spaced at intervals of 50 feet, and he has to catch one of the wires with the tailhook at the back of his jet in order to land. Once caught, the wire acts as a brake, and will bring the aircraft to a sudden stop.
The aim is to catch the third wire, since catching either the first or second means he was dangerously close to the back of the ship. If he approaches too fast or high and misses all the wires, then he'll have to touch and go: take off again and going around for another try… which is what happened the last couple days. If he comes in too low, he might not clear the flight deck and will smash into the back of the carrier—and then it really will be game over. It's a very real risk too, one he runs every single time he lands.
Ahead of him, Bilbo, as usual, makes the landing first time, catching the third wire with ease, his jet grinding to a quick halt on the flight deck. Fuckin' showoff, Logan thinks with a wry smile as he prepares for his own landing, turning into the ¾ mile.
"One-One-Zero on course," comes the voice of the Landing Signal Officer on the ground. "On glide path, 3/4 of a mile. Call the ball."
"One-One-Zero, Hornet ball 8.0," Logan says into his headset.
The LSO responds, "Roger ball, 28 knots down the angle."
Okay, he's on course, he's on ball, everything's good so far. He continues the approach, determined to finally catch the third wire first time this week. That is until the LSO comes over the radio again.
"Don't settle," the voice crackles over the radio. "Power. Power. Wave off, wave off."
"Shit," he mutters, giving the engine a little throttle, the jet lifting. "Fuck it."
He was coming in too low again, damnit, which means his hopes of a perfect landing are yet again out the window. And round for another go, it is.
To his immense relief, he catches the wire on attempt number two—an improvement over the last two days, at least—the jet coming to a sudden, jerking stop on the strip. Logan's heart is pounding in his chest, his breathing harsh, adrenaline coursing through him. No matter how many times he does this, the nerves and fear never quite go away.
By the time Logan has gone through almost an hour and a half of debrief, followed by a lecture from his CO about the importance of catching the wire in as few attempts as possible, he only has a few minutes to grab some food to go from the 'dirty-shirt' mess near the ready room and head up to the computer room. Even though he's a couple of minutes late for his Skype date with Veronica, the machine he's booked is still free—it's usually so busy that if you're late by more than a minute, someone else will take the slot—and he slides into the chair and quickly logs on.
As the familiar whoosh of Skype starting up sounds through the small speakers, Logan feels nervous. He's going to see Veronica again in a minute; or at least he hopes he is. The onboard connection is so hit and miss that half the time it's either too slow to turn on the camera, or the call drops out completely mid-sentence. He smiles, seeing her name on the screen, her icon showing she's online, and presses the 'call' button.
It rings a few times, the dial tone breaking up a little with each ring, and he prays it's going to connect. A couple of seconds later, there's a click and the screen goes black for a moment, before she appears, her features only slightly pixelated.
"Hey," he says into the camera.
There must be a slight delay because she doesn't respond immediately and instead frowns a little at the screen. Then her expression clears and she smiles. Logan drinks in the sight of her. Even though her face is devoid of make-up, hair pulled up in a messy ponytail, she looks amazing, particularly because she's wearing one of his Navy t-shirts.
"Hey, you."
"Sorry I'm late," he says. "Debrief overran and I barely had time to get dinner."
He holds up the sandwich he grabbed from the mess hall, waiting a couple of seconds for her to see it. The delay isn't too bad, but it's slightly annoying nonetheless. At least he can see her though.
"It's okay, you're here now." She smiles at him, or at least she smiles at her screen, her eyes not quite meeting his.
"I hope the connection holds up," he says. "It can be crappy, so don't worry if it cuts out."
"Okay."
Logan opens his mouth, then realises he doesn't know what to say. It's awkward, this Skype thing.
"So, how's your dad?" he says eventually.
She just looks straight into the camera, fixing him with an amused look. "Seriously? That's how we're playing this? Small talk?"
He shrugs. "Okay, what do you want to talk about?"
"Uh…" She bites her lip and Logan's eyes follow the movement. "I dunno."
"See?" he grins. "Not so easy, huh?"
"It's weird, talking like this," she admits.
"Yeah, it is," he agrees. "You get used to it."
"Yeah." She nods.
He glances at the clock. "I hate to say it, but I don't have a whole lot of time. There's already someone here waiting for the next slot."
"Oh, okay. Sorry." She looks apologetic for a moment, but then smiles brightly, clapping her hands together. "So, let's get this show on the road. How's deployment so far?"
"All's well on the birdfarm," he quips. At her quizzical look, he adds, "Yeah, it's okay. I've been flying training sorties this week."
"Are they going well?" she asks.
He huffs out a frustrated breath. "Depends on your definition of well. Take-off and manoeuvres are good, I just can't seem to land the fucking thing this week."
"Oh?"
"Yeah." He looks heavenward. "It's never easy, but I've missed the wire four times in three days."
"I take it that's bad?"
Veronica looks nonplussed, but he doesn't have enough time to explain it all right now.
"Well, my CO seems to think so." He sighs.
Well, actually, his superior's exact words were: "If you can't even land the fucking thing on an easy day, Lieutenant, how the fuck do you think you're gonna do it on a pitching deck in high seas?"
"Just one of those weeks, I guess." He shrugs, then changes tack. "So, how've you been?
"Busy," she says. "I've been at the office most of the week, sorting through Dad's cases, seeing what I can get started on."
"Any luck with the PI licence?"
"No." She makes a face. "So, the thing is, because my licence expired years ago, I have to start over. Which means two years of working for my dad full-time before I can even apply to take the exam again."
"Shit, that sucks." Logan tries not to wince.
"Yeah, tell me about it." She sighs. "At least I have a law degree, otherwise it would be three years."
"Well, it's good for something, then."
"Yeah."
She looks down, but not before Logan sees the dejected expression on her face.
He watches her through the screen for a moment, before he says carefully, "Are you okay, Veronica?"
She lifts her head, gives a brittle smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Because, you know, it's okay if you're not."
"I'm okay, Logan. Really." She avoids his gaze, trying to look unaffected, but he knows her better than that.
"I miss you," he tells her sincerely. "They might be keeping me busy as hell here, but that doesn't mean I don't."
Her lips curl up into a smile and she looks at him fully as she admits, "I miss you, too. I'm just trying not to think about how much."
"I know." He nods. "Me too."
Logan checks the clock again; he only has a couple of minutes left, and he can see the guy waiting for the next slot checking his watch impatiently.
"I'm gonna have to go in a minute," he tells Veronica apologetically. "There's a Petty Officer across the room staring daggers at me for taking too long."
"Okay." She smiles, though it doesn't reach her eyes.
"Looks like the Skype bookings are pretty full for the next few days already," he says, scanning the calendar on the wall. "Are you free next Friday night?"
Veronica hesitates, then grimaces. "Uh…"
Logan frowns. "What is it?"
"Nothing," she says quickly. Too quickly. "It's just… I'm gonna be out of town next weekend."
"That's okay, we'll find another time." She seems skittish, avoiding his gaze again, so Logan presses. "So, where are you going?"
"What?"
"Next weekend?"
"Oh, um, nowhere important." She's still not looking at him, which means she's hiding something.
"Veronica…" he says warningly.
"Okay, fine." She sighs. "I'm flying to New York. I need to move out of the apartment."
Oh. That explains it.
His voice is flat when he says, "The one you share with Piz."
"Well, shared…"
He doesn't want to know, but he has to ask, "Will you see him?"
She looks uncomfortable. "Probably. He does lives there, after all."
"Right. Of course."
It's irrational, he knows, the jealousy that courses through him. She's chosen him, chosen to stay in Neptune, to leave that other life behind. But a tiny part of him is worried. He's worried that she'll go back and realise that she's made a mistake, that she'll want to make things work with Piz after all, that she's going to decide to stay in New York.
"Logan, I'm sorry," she says, apparently reading his mind…or perhaps his expression is giving him away. "I'd prefer not to go, but I need to. For one, I need to close that chapter of my life, but also, I'm running out of clothes to wear. I'm going to have to raid my teenage wardrobe at this rate, and half of it doesn't even fit anymore."
"Yeah. Yeah, I know you do," he says quickly. "Just…"
She smiles sadly. "I'm not gonna go running back to him, you know."
Shit, she knows me too well. He nods quickly. "I know."
"Do you?"
"I—" He starts to respond, but the petty officer is walking towards him now, tapping his watch with one finger.
"I'm sorry, I really have to go. My time's up." he says instead. "I'll email you about another Skype date, okay?"
"Sure. Okay." She looks like she wants to say more, but then seems to think better of it. "Bye, Logan. Stay safe."
"You too." He smiles sadly. "Bye, Veronica."
Author's Notes: Apologies for the formatting of the email addresses in this - the site blanks out email addresses and URLs if you use the 'at' symbol or don't put spaces, and I didn't know how else to get it to show up.