A/N: This is the Logan POV version of the roof scene (Like Pirates) of Not Pictured. I did one in Veronica's POV not long ago (Not A Killer) and I got a review saying nobody really did Logan's POV. That surprised me, because I've read a bunch in Logan's POV, but whatever here's my take. Read and Review! I love reviews! (I hope to reply to some soon--my internet is kind of glitchy or something and it prevents me from replying all the time, but I try) Thanks! -Mac
Disclaimer: I don't own Veronica Mars. But I do have Season 1 & 2 on DVD and the Soundtrack, so I'm still happy.
Terror and Desperation
Terror. Pure, genuine terror. The kind of terror that grips your chest--pulls at your heart and restricts your lungs. It makes it hard to breathe. It makes it hard to move. Real, honest terror. I have only felt it once. Only once in my messed-up, tragic life. Only once, because I've only seen the most important person in my life staring down the barrel of a gun, once.
When I read that message, I got that horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach and I knew something was wrong. Something was really, really wrong. Abandoning what I had been doing, I was on my way to the roof in a split second. I wasn't exactly thinking. After all the screwed up situations I've walked into, I should have known better than to come completely unprepared. But I did. I came alone with nothing but myself.
I stepped out onto the roof quietly. I had no idea what I was going to find. I could hear voices and I turned toward them. What I saw made me feel that pure, genuine terror I was talking about earlier. Now I have been scared. I have been afraid. But I have never been so strongly affected by anything like I was by what I found on that roof. The scene that unfolded before my eyes confused me. I didn't understand why Beaver would have a gun on Veronica in the first place, yet it scared me to death. He couldn't kill Veronica. I couldn't lose Veronica, not now, not ever. Not for real.
I heard him say, "What do you want to bet that I can get him convicted for the death of this teenage girl?"
And I knew. I knew. He would really do it. I had no idea why he would be doing this, but he was completely serious. He was going to kill her.
"No!" The word slipped from my mouth, before I could stop it, as I stepped from the shadows.
I heard the shot before I saw it. It whizzed past me, hitting metal not even a foot away from me. My reaction was delayed, but I dived out of the way, out of sight. I lifted my head to get an idea of my surroundings. The second shot came even closer to hitting it's mark than the first.
This wasn't making sense. Beaver with a gun--turned on Veronica, turned on me--just didn't make sense. But I would rather have his attention on me, at least that meant he wasn't--at that second--paying attention to Veronica. I would rather him be shooting at me than at her.
When I began to get up, Veronica had tackled Beaver to the ground in an attempt to get the gun away from him. He shoved her away and he stood up. I moved quickly, without thinking. I tackled Beaver from behind, and the gun slid away. I tried to hold him down, but he was able to get around me and hit me with what had to be Veronica's tazer. I rolled off of him, curling into myself a little. I would rather not ever get shocked like that again.
The echo of the gun shot caused me to jerk around. Veronica lowered the gun, from its angle toward the sky, and brought it so it was trained on Beaver.
"Logan move away from him." Veronica said to me.
"Veronica don't." I replied as I shifted away from Beaver anyway.
"He killed my father!" Veronica called, her grief evident in her voice.
I still didn't understand what was happening, or how Beaver could have killed Keith Mars. But as I stood and moved toward Veronica, it became obvious Veronica might actually shoot him. The look in her eyes told me she was seriously thinking about it. I couldn't let her do it.
"Give me the gun Veronica."
"He killed everyone on the bus. He raped me!" Veronica sent two more accusations at Beaver.
The first made things a lot clearer to me. At the second I turned to catch a glance of his reaction. Could he have possibly been capable of doing something so horrible to...to Veronica? If he had done all these things, he did deserve to be punished. But Veronica couldn't be the one to do that. It would only make things worse.
"You are not a killer Veronica. Give me the gun." I said and I watched as her resolve began to fade. "You are not a killer Veronica. Give me the gun."
I took one more step closer to Veronica and let my hand slip over hers. Her grip loosened and I pulled the gun away from her. I pulled her against me and wrapped my arms around her. I pressed my face into her hair and held her close. I could practically feel her tears as she cried into my chest. As I held her, I felt a certain relief that she was safe.
I hadn't noticed that Beaver had moved until he had lifted himself over the railing. He was going to jump. I steeped away from Veronica.
"Beaver don't!" I yelled.
"My name is Cassidy!" He called, whipping around.
"Cassidy don't."
"Why not?" He questioned.
I went silent. I drew up a blank when I tried to think of a reason for why he shouldn't. All those things he had done, his offenses outnumbered any good deeds he might have done. I couldn't get any words out. Let alone the words that would keep him from going over the ledge.
"That's what I thought." Cassidy replied just before stepping off the ledge.
I stood staring, open mouthed, at the place where he had just been standing. The reality of what happened began to sink in. Veronica moved so she was near me again and I pulled her against me. I hugged her close, as I continued to look at that spot.
I held on to her tightly and I think it sunk in just how relieved I was that she was safe. I don't know what I would have done if he had hurt her. I don't know what I would have done if I had lost her. She was so incredibly important to me, even if she didn't know it.
I had been so scared, so terrified, that he was going to shoot her. I was scared for myself as well, but all I could think about was her. The fear of getting shot barely registered over my terror of losing her. It was something I had never felt before and it was something I hoped I would never have to feel again.
I would do anything for her, but she didn't know it. I would always be there when she needed me even if she didn't know it. I would be brave, and hold strong, for her. I would face death, I would face anything, for her. I want her to know I would do anything for her. I will be there for her, and I hope she knows it.