Roughly a few days after the incident. Sorry for the length, hope you enjoy it.
Inga's funeral was torturous. Veronica felt empty and lifeless - she knew the woman for so long. Another loss, and in such a terrible and pointless way. Will this nightmare never stop?
The eulogy was short, but lovely. Inga's brother flew in from Seattle and said many nice things about her. Veronica just hoped that her eyes would be able to see again, but the tears did not seem to stop from flowing. Keith also cried - he knew Inga the much longer. Father and daughter did not speak much, but Keith's reassuring hand, wrapped tightly around her shoulders, seemed to be the only thing that was holding her together.
She saw Don in the crowd - he kept to the back. His face stern and stormy, his trademark smirk was gone. She felt too empty to even be furious with him, although - what could he have done? A part of her wanted to make him her personal scapegoat for this tragedy (and she wasn't the only one), but an even bigger part of her was glad that he was not there that evening. Good or bad, he was a part of her life, of her history in this damned town, that seemed to take everything she ever cared for. Piece by piece. She broke free of it, but wouldn't you know it - it found a way to clip her little wings and send her plummeting down to the ground once again.
Don did not look at her, or anyone else. He was not in uniform, but a simple dark suit - that was strange. Veronica did bump into him as they were exiting the chapel, and before she could open her mouth to say (what? I hate you for this? I'm glad that you are alive?), his eyes simply passed her over. His heavy gaze did connect with Keith's for a moment, but neither of them said a thing. An unspoken pain, shared and searing, bound the two men. Keith nodded to the Sheriff, but the latter did not return the gesture and simply exited the church, as if running away. The newspapers were outside - barred from entering the church. Veronica watched Don pass the gauntlet of flashing camera lights and head straight to his cruiser. His tires screeched just loud enough for everyone to turn their head towards him, as he drove off.
The Mars' stayed with the family through the ceremony, the burial and the humble get together at Inga's small home. It was painful to see her pictures still on the wall - her with Keith, her with Don, her, smiling, with her brother. She had no family, other than her brother Sven, to leave behind. That was a small consolation, perhaps, but there was no shortage of people who came to honor her on her last journey.
Keith stayed with Sven - they shared more memories about Inga than anyone else in this town. Veronica, exhausted emotionally and physically, excused herself and left for home. All she wanted to do it take off this black dress, that she hoped to never wear again in her life, and crawl under the covers. She just wanted to hide from all of this. Driving past the beach, she noticed a car on the sand. The headlights were on, but it was too far from the freeway to see what it was. As she drove past closer, she saw that it was a police cruiser. She felt a strange jolt in her stomach. She slowed down, and saw deep tracks in the sand. Hesitating for a moment, she pulled over and looked back, peering from her window. It looked like someone was near the car, but the siren lights were not on. "Just drive, Veronica, you can't handle this." That was the logical part of her speaking, but the voice was instantly drowned by the buzzing sound of "what if someone's hurt? What if, who is it? why is this?" She backed up her car to where the tracks into the sand started, and turned off the engine. Checking her bag for the taser, she stepped out of the car and headed towards the police cruiser.
The air smelled so much like that night when she and Lily went skinny dipping. It was a happy memory, but Veronica forced herself to shoo it off. This could be anything. A bust gone wrong, an officer down. She needed to be alert. She did not call out to anyone - that is the dumbest thing to do - her Dad taught her that. Assess the situation first, don't alert anyone to your presence until you know it's safe. Nearing the vehicle, she saw someone sitting on the hood. Coming closer, she realized that it was Don. He was staring off into the blackness of the ocean. There was a half-finished six-pack of beer next to him and a nearly empty bottle in his hand.
"Sheriff?" - Veronica called out, not sure whether to just bolt running or ask if he is al right. She did not even notice, that she called him by his proper title.
Don's back jerked, and he quickly turned around, visibly startled. For a moment he looked confused, as if Veronica's - was the last voice that he expected to hear.
"The fuck you want, Mars?" - he said, turning away and hopping off the hood. He looked disheveled, and his suit jacket looked to be stained with beer. - "Came to tell me what a terrible failure I am as a human being?"
Veronica said nothing. Despite the venom in his voice, he looked strangely vulnerable. She had never seen him this way, not even when he was still a deputy. She wasn't sure on what to do - this way beyond awkward. This was nearly frightening. Although her brain usually would come up with a witty response with a lightning-like reflex, now she was simply speechless. Her grief taken that desire to hurt Lamb. Suddenly he seemed human. Flawed. Hurting.
"I can use a drink." - she mustered to squeeze out of her. What are you doing, Veronica, just go! - she thought.
Lamb said nothing, and part of her was scared that he will simply tell her to go fuck herself. But he simply shifted his weight, losing his balance for a second, and slid the six pack towards her. She took a bottle out - it was warm. Domestic - she twisted the cap off and took a sip. It tasted as terrible as she imagined it to be. The gust of wind brought the unmistakable smell of stale beer - Lamb has been drinking a lot.
"Sheri...Don..I.." - she started, still trying to wrack her brain, grasping for any appropriate words in this situation. But she came up empty. She never knew how to comfort someone who was in pain. She could hold them, she could cry with them, she could try to joke the pain away. But dealing with it directly and honestly - she just did not know how to do this. And this was not the man that wanted to be held, not by her anyway.
"You know what's the worst? I completely forgot her birthday. Did you know it was just a couple of weeks ago?" - Lamb said suddenly, turning to her. His eyes burned holes in her, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. Veronica nodded - of course she knew. She sent her a card with a picture of a Llama on it - Inga adored llamas.
"Of course you knew, Veronica Mars - she knows everything. Nothing gets past you, doesn't it?" - he words felt like stings. He smirked, looking more bitter than smug, and took a sip of the beer. - "and just when I think there would be ONE tiny spot in this town where I don't have to answer to anyone, here you are. Came to expense some of Mars wisdom on the matter, little girl?"
Veronica's cheeks flushed. Deep down inside she knew that this was grief talking, but her nature told her again and again that this is Lamb were talking about. He doesn't get frazzled, he doesn't grieve. He doesn't' care about anything but himself and himself only. Does he?
She prepared a smart-ass remark, but he turned away. He shoulders slumped, his gaze lost in the darkness. Suddenly she wanted nothing but to feel something human, something assuring. She did not want to cause pain, or engage in a verbal assault with him. Her hand shaking, she reached out and touched his shoulder.
"This was no one's fault, not yours, not anyone's. Ing..she would tell you the same thing." - Lamb looked at her hand on his shoulder, disbelief spreading on his face. - "You know, she cared for you so much."
This was true, despite it all, Inga always thought of Lamb as her dopey little brother. Another thing that Don never knew about, most likely.
"I am so sorry." - she said quietly.
"For what?" - he asked her.
"For this, for what you had to face in this past week, for not being there…" - Veronica trailed off. What on earth was she talking about? The worst part, was that she meant every word of it. As if years of disdain and lack of trust, callousness and thinly-veiled hatred melted away and she wanted to do nothing more than to take away this hurt. This burden that he had to bear. That they all had to bear.
Lamb grabbed her hand, not rough but earnest. Before Veronica could react, she felt his warm lips on tops of hers. He tasted like alcohol - she did not like that, but his kiss was melting something inside of her. She did not even notice when he maneuvered his body and pinned her to the side of his car, her small body now completely enveloped in the scent of stale beer and his cologne. He wrapped his arms around her waist, his thumbs gently caressing her hips. It was great, Veronica noted, somehow safe and familiar. She had thought of him kissing her many times through the years, especially when she was much younger and he was just her dad's handsome deputy. She thought of it later on too, but always told herself that she is just a sucker for "baby blues". That it was not him, just ….
"Thanks." - Don broke the kiss off and without letting go of her hips, just stared down at her.
"God, sheriff, how drunk ARE you?" - she said in her usual manner, hoping that he will return back with a snarky remark. Snarkiness made things less weird. Snarkiness was familiar. This was a whole new ground that neither of them seemed to be prepared to break.
But Don said nothing, he did not smirk, nor did he move his hand from her. He leaned in and kissed her cheek, then her forehead, then lightly brushed her lips. Veronica could feel her head spinning. This was not really happening, was it? what are they doing here? Why is he doing this? Why was he so damn good at it?
Don traced the side of her neck with a kiss, and planted a deep one on the collar bone. None of it felt vulgar, unlike what Veronica thought it might be. That is when she allowed herself to entertain the possibility of kissing the "worst Sheriff that Neptune has ever seen". But this, no, this was real, human, tender. And she loved every moment of it. Don stopped kissing her neck, and his raspy whisper reached her ear:
"Too drunk to think straight, but not drunk enough to blame this on the beer." - and returned to kissing her neck, as Veronica's body covered itself in goosebumps.
"You sure know how to make a girl feel special,deputy." - her eyes fluttered as he licked her earlobe. (Just shut up, Veronica, she told herself, just enjoy this for crying out loud. You need this. He needs this. Just shut your mouth and don't ruin it). But it was too late. Don was looking at her, her hands no longer on her hips, but on his car. Still trapped by his towering frame, and looked into his eyes, hoping to find the answers to this. But he simply stared at her with a mixture of desire and sadness.
"Do I? Why don't you run along, little girl. This is a bad place to be this late at night." - Slowly, he shifted his weight, and Veronica found herself to be free. The gust of ocean air pummeled her in the face as if in punishment. Was it her? Was it because she couldn't shut up?
Almost ready to cry, and hoping that Don would reconsider, she steadied herself. The treacherous sand, and her knees, weakened by Don's kiss - at this point she was just hoping that she could walk away gracefully, without falling on her face. Don stepped away from her, and with an awkward grace hopped back onto the hood of his car. He seemed to have disappeared - at least the human Don that she saw just a moment away. The human and tender Don that she could only dream about, the one who kissed her like no one else had kissed her before - skillfully and patiently, was gone. Only the Sheriff remained, and Veronica, swallowing tears that were now flowing freely down her face, hurried to her own car. This was indeed, a bad night to be out.