Screw it.
Veronica pulled her ear buds out of her ears, tossed her iPhone to the empty side of the bed, turned on her bedside lamp, and grabbed her tablet off the side table.
It had been 78 days since Logan left. Over two months of sporadic Skype calls and even rarer phone calls. His call tonight had done wonders to alleviate the crushing band around her chest that installed itself after they got cut off that last time. She had been trying to email him everyday, but with the case the last few weeks and her worry, it had been harder to keep them sounding upbeat. It became clear that her usual approach to these emails wasn't going to work anymore. She had to trust that Logan was mature enough and focused enough not to get distracted by an email that related more than random stories about the latest idiocy of Neptune's own Sherriff Rosco P. Coltraine and updates on the weather.
Cowboy up, Mars. She smiled, because she could still hear his voice in her head. She opened a new email and began to type.
From: Veronica Mars
Date: Thurs, 14 Apr 2016 02:50
To: Logan Echolls
Subject: Can't sleep
Dear Logan,
I know that we just hung up the phone like 3 hours ago, but my dad's house is too quiet and I couldn't sleep. After we got disconnected on Sunday I was worried even though you told me not to be when that happens. What if that was the time that something happened to you? Then everything went down with Lianne's step-kid, and now I can't stop thinking: what if that was the time that I couldn't get away? What if that was the last conversation we ever had? My mind just won't shut up and drowning the silence with Rihanna's Stay on repeat probably isn't the best approach. I'm just so thankful that you're all right.
I was thinking about what we you said before you left, about how we were going to do this: "Easy, V. Email. Write me. Write me everything."
Yeah. Easy peasy. You know, I can write a 20 page law paper in under 15 hours: BAM! But what you suggested? That's…harder for me.
I know we had those two weeks together, and God, they were amazing. (Great, now my body won't shut up either! Focus, V!) But Logan, it's been nine years. There's so much I don't know about you anymore. There's so much you don't know about me anymore. Is your favorite movie still Easy Rider? What kind of music do you listen to now? What the hell did we talk about those last 2 weeks? Fuck, I don't even know where the flying thing came from. I have so many questions and there was no time to ask them. I have so many stories and explanations for you, I don't even know where to start. You know sharing has never been my forte. I have changed after nine years but some of those basic truths about me are still in there, as much as I'm trying to overcome them.
Maybe writing to you will help though. True, meaningful emails, like you've been sending me. You certainly can't argue back, or cut me off mid-sentence with your pithy quotes, or your eyes, or your hands, or your kiss. Reducing all our issues to "bygones" will not make them disappear, as much as every fiber of my being is wishing it would. Maybe the fact that I can take the time to organize my thoughts will help. Or maybe I'll overthink every sentence and delete each one 10 times before hitting send. What the hell do I know? But I'm going to try, because this will work this time. WE will work this time.
Be safe! 102 days.
~V
From: Logan Echolls
Date: Thurs, 15 Apr 2016 06:03
To: Veronica Mars
Subject: Re:Can't sleep
Dear V,
I knew you weren't OK when we hung up. I'm sorry, baby. I wish I could hold you and prove to you that I'm OK. It really is just the crappy connection we have out here. You know I can't tell you where we are or what we're doing, but like I said before, we are in a relatively safe zone this trip. I mean it, truly.
We didn't do a whole lot of talking those two weeks, Bobcat. Unless you count the Gods, and Logans, and yeah babies, which I'm pretty sure you aren't. Trust me, my memories of those days play very vividly in my mind. Every kiss, every bite, every blow, every part of your body that I reintroduced myself to. That is what's keeping me going through these long, lonely nights in my bunk.
I approve of your plan whole-heartedly. Don't think I haven't noticed you falling back to your usual MO. I appreciate your desire to help keep my head in the game over here, but it's unnecessary. I'd much rather hear about you than the weather in Neptune. It's 72F. It's always 72F. I get it.
I leave you with the immortal words of Nike: Just Do It.
101 days.
Always,
~L
From: Veronica Mars
Date: Thurs, 15 Apr 2016 08:24
To: Logan Echolls
Subject: Re: Can't sleep
OK, so I do know what we were doing during those last two weeks. Seriously, out of my whole letter, you went with the rhetorical question? But I really do appreciate the play by play (woof!). ;P
Stay safe!
~V
From: Logan Echolls
Date: Thurs, 15 Apr 2016 18:12
To: Veronica Mars
Subject: Re: Can't sleep
Are we doing animal sexting now? If you're a dog (you said it, not me!), can I be a stallion? NEIGH!
My junior year, they were forcing me to declare a major. I was barely passing as it was, missing more classes than I was attending. I won't lie, V. I was in a bad place. One day, I ran into Wallace. I hadn't seen him in almost a year, and he wasn't too impressed by what he saw, I could tell. You should ask him about that meeting. Anyway, for my part, it was enlightening. Wallace and I were never really friends but he was the closest thing to you I'd come in contact with in a long time and I was ashamed of myself. Wallace's face was looking at me but it was you staring out. I realized that if I let myself sink deeper into the misery, then you were right to leave. And I was still so angry at you that I didn't want you to be right. So I did everything I could to prove you wrong.
I went to the career fair going on that week (stop laughing, I can almost hear you from here), and got to talking with the recruiters. They make better pitches than Dick Sr. at one of his investor meetings. I went online and researched a bit, did a few of those career quiz things. Military kept showing up on the lists. I liked the idea of maybe protecting people, but without paying for the damages to the bars. There was structure, which Lord knows I needed, and a built in family. Nothing else had worked until then so I figured, what the hell?
Then came the tough choice of figuring out which branch. I looked at what I knew about the military, which wasn't a hell of a lot. I was pretty sure the Marines were too intense, and coming from me, you can imagine how intense that must be. I'd seen Saving Private Ryan and Apocalypse Now. Rolling in the mud and trenches weren't really my thing either. That left Air Force and Navy. The Navy meant the ocean. My ocean. And based on what I saw of Top Gun, I figured I'd look pretty hot on a motorcycle, in a sexy fighter plane, and shirtless playing volleyball. The Navy won.
I was right, too. I'm one sexy motherfucker on the volleyball court.
Always,
~L
Veronica sat back into her pillows looking at the picture Logan had attached to his email. It was an older picture, clearly taken during his initial training. His face was still a little rounder, but already his shirtless body had taken on the chiseled look she had come to know during their recent time together. He was mid-jump on the beach playing 2 on 2. The dark-skinned guy next to him didn't have a shirt on either, or the guys on the other team. It was hard to tell what they really looked like behind their stereotypical aviator glasses. Really, though, she wasn't staring at this pic in order to stare into their eyes. Navy training was certainly good for the body. My, oh my.
Veronica closed her light and lay the computer open on the bed next to her, the picture zoomed in on Logan. Her hand disappeared under the sheet as her eyes stared unblinking at the screen.
Two days later, Veronica walked into her office and sat down at her new desk. When she had told Logan what had happened at Adrian's apartment, and about the talk she had with her father afterwards when he called her his partner, Logan had enlisted Dick to help arrange everything on this side of the pond. Consequently, this morning a beautiful antique mahogany partners desk had been delivered, Logan's surprise congratulations gift to them. Even her dad had almost smiled when he read the card. Logan might wear him down yet.
She adjusted his picture in the frame next to her monitor and looked at the desk pad calendar with all the black Xs. Doing the math quickly in her head, she logged in to her email account and started her message.
From: Veronica Mars
Date: Sun, 17 Apr 2016 16:13
To: Logan Echolls
Subject: 99
Dear Logan,
You trying to buy my dad's affection with big expensive gifts now? Seriously though, the desk is just beautiful. I've attached a picture so that you can see it. Did you know that Dick had such good taste? I thought he just hired someone but apparently he actually picked it out himself. Do they teach you rich folk antiquing right out of the womb, or does the skill manifest itself when you hit puberty? As you can see in the picture I've got my side all decorated. And lo and behold, my countdown calendar told me that today was a special day. We are officially under the 100-day mark; only 99 more days. Those first 81 days flew by so fast, the last 99 won't be so bad, right? Right? (That's a bald-faced lie, btw.)
Anyway, I've spent my Sunday at the office with Mac, organizing case files. "And on the 7th day, the Lord said, let there be filing!" I swear my dad hasn't filed anything since he moved into this space 3 years ago. But I digress. Well actually, I stall and you know how good my stall tactics are. I could go pro.
The thing is, I had an idea that I'm a little embarrassed about. I caught Mac on this site called Tumblr, which, according to her is where one goes to connect with others who have similar interests. Between you and me, it's where she goes to geek out over her computer crap and Dr Who. I can hear you laughing (I miss hearing you laugh). Don't judge her! (I'm totally judging her enough for both of us.)
I just happened to glimpse at her screen (aka I was nosy and totally snooping over her shoulder) where I saw her answering these question things. I think she called them a mime? Anyway, some of the questions were kind of stupid and generic, but some were…not…and would have taken me a novella to answer. Even the generic ones were…valid…when I realized that I didn't know what some of your answers would be anymore, and you had no way of knowing what mine would be either. So then I thought, well, I didn't know where to start with this sharing thing, so why not use that list of questions as a launching point (get ready bucko, there are 92). Like I said, some of them will require a little courage to answer, and a lot of time, but hell, we have 99 more days of letters.
Now I'm going to go over here and bury my head in the sand while I get over my mortification at this suggestion. Don't laugh too hard, Lieutenant. Those pictures I promised you are riding on you not mocking me.
Stay safe!
~V
Veronica hit send and then instinctively hovered her mouse over the Undo button, conflicted over whether or not she should call it back.
What are you doing? You sound like a teenager, Veronica. Aren't you beyond Cosmo quizzes about what his favorite color means and if the fact that you both have lemon chicken in common means you're going to be together forever?
Suddenly, her Inbox updated with a new message. Logan must have been checking his email when she sent hers. Her stomach flipped as she realized that he read her message and responded already.
Fantastic! Way to look like you've matured. I'm truly going to go die now.
From: Logan Echolls
Date: Sun, 17 Apr 2016 16:19
To: Veronica Mars
Subject: Re:99
Dear Veronica,
Meme, sweetheart. It's called a meme. Where the hell have you been the last few years that you've fallen into such a cultural black hole? Law school did nothing to enhance your pop culture queen status in the least. I will have you know that yours truly has his own Tumblr account under the name Yoda69. Fast cars, fast planes, fantasy football and the latest in surfing news all in one easy dashboard. You really need to get in touch with your inner fan girl, Veronica. Go on and check if the URL Bobcat is taken. ;P
Did I even tell you that my call sign was Yoda? My wingman, his name is Justin Walker, goes by Mace (yes, as in Windhu). The story is a little embarrassing, but you don't get a call sign without an embarrassing story. It keeps us humble.
Not long after I started flight training, I was paired with Mace. They pair you early, so you can bond and train together, you know, to really get to know each other. It sounds corny, but it's a formula that works. Mace is not only my right arm in the sky, my second pair of eyes, but he is family now. I can't wait for you to meet him.
Anyway, we were bored one night in our bunks, too keyed up to sleep after a fly-day, and we started this conversation about Star Wars. The other guys were listening to us ramble about these obscure facts and laughing their asses off at us. You think Mac is a geek? If only you could have heard us, you'd see she's just an amateur. And you thought Easy Rider was my favorite movie. I was just too cool in those days to let you see my glow-in-the-dark Jedi sheets.
Later that week, I was recording my inspirational greeting and was overheard. The guys started calling me Yoda, and I guess Mace just fit for Justin, although he wishes he was as smooth as Sam Jackson. Can't say that I mind it. There are worse things to be called. Remind me one day to tell you how Bubbles got his name.
"Named must your fear be before banish it you can." – Yoda
If a meme gets you talking, Veronica, then I'm all for it. I've been patiently waiting for your story for 81 days. Bring it.
I'm flying tomorrow, so I'm not sure when I'll be able to check back in. Expect at least 3, maybe even 5 days. It should give you enough time to rewrite your first set of answers at least a few times. :) Good luck! And I'm glad you like the desk. Operation "Win Keith Over" has begun! May the force be with you.
Always,
~L
