Chapter 2: Dealing
If someone had told me that my day would end up with Veronica Mars in my bed, even in my arms, I would have cracked up with laughter. Once I'd calmed down, I'd have called the nice boys in white to remove that lunatic from the streets.
Seriously.
Veronica Mars?
Sure, she's hot. There never has been a doubt about that, not when she was twelve and not now either. Before, it was a sweet kind of hot, innocent. Not it's rather the aggressive form of hot with her having learned to use that great body of hers to her advantage.
Then she's blond and rumor has it that I have a weakness for blondes. Which isn't true per se. I also like other hair colors. But yeah, one could say that blonde's a favorite of mine.
And last but not least, she's witty and intelligent, loves sarcasm probably as much as I do and is basically pretty funny. Not to mention cute when she's angry or annoyed, which she happens to be a lot nowadays.
But she's Veronica Mars and that should explain the impossibility of the current situation.
Because we just happen to be enemies and generally, I'm not fond of the concept of sleeping with the enemy.
Yet, here she was, in my bed, in my arms, and it's where I brought her to myself and, as I recognized, it's also where I wanted her to be.
To be honest, I'm afraid of what she'll do if someone doesn't watch over her. Usually, I wouldn't say that Veronica's likely to do something to herself, but on the other side I guess a person can only take so much and the girl that fell apart in my arms today had nothing to do anymore with the strong, confident Veronica I know.
Of course she had just learned that her dad was dead. Me? I'd have celebrated. But contrary to me, she loves her dad, doesn't hate him. He's her world.
I should know.
It's because of her love to her dad that I lost her.
We used to be friends, you know? From the moment she smiled at me, not caring a fuck that I'm Logan Echolls, son of three times Academy Award winner Aaron Echolls and actress Lynn Lester. She smiled at me and simply offered me a tour of the school which ended with us having ice-cream in a small ice parlor away from where the 09ers usually hang around and we became friends. When we learned the next day that our best friends both are Kanes, mine Duncan and hers Lilly, we had a good laugh and took it as a sign that our friendship obviously was destined.
Most people who remember that me and Veronica were friends once thought it was just because we were both hung up on the Kanes and therefore were forced to hang out together. I let them, but truth is that it wasn't like that. We were true friends. Hell, she was my second best friend as unlikely as that seems. We spent a lot of time together, just the two of us, talked a lot, had a lot of fun. When I started to date Lilly, and later when she and Duncan became a couple as well, we spent less time with each other, of course – but we still managed to go to that ice parlor from time to time, our little secret place, none of us ever having gone there with someone else.
The problem when you're friends with your girlfriend's best friend is, that in the end, she always stays her best friend in the first place. And I sort of knew that and honestly, Duncan would have come first with me as well. But when she went and ratted me out to Lilly for me kissing that girl, whatever her name was, without even bothering to give me a chance to explain first, I was furious with her. And it hurt. Somehow it had felt like a betrayal of the friendship we did have as well.
I started to cool down, seeing that she just did what she had to do, not liking it very much. But then Lilly died and it was so easy to blame her. If she hadn't rat me out, I'd still have been together with Lilly and would have been there, leaving Abel Koontz no chance to kill her. It was unfair, I know, but I needed some vent for the overwhelming pain and rage I felt after Lilly's death and she was there, an easy target.
Then Keith Mars started to stubbornly interrogate Jake Kane, honestly suspecting him of being able to kill his own daughter, instead of being out there and do everything in his power to find Lilly's true killer. And I really got furious. It still didn't compare in the slightest to the rage I felt when I confronted Veronica about what the fuck her dad was doing – and realized that no matter what, she'd stay with him, back him up.
In that moment I started to hate Veronica Mars and have ever since then.
I glanced at the girl in my arms, finally succumbed to her exhaustion – and with a little help of the mild sleeping powder I've mixed into the water I more or less forced her to drink. Tears were still running down from under her closed lids, even in her sleep. With a sigh, I stroke a stray hair of hers out of her face.
Do I? Do I still hate Veronica?
No.
And it isn't just because of the tragic news she received today. To be honest, my hate towards her started to vanish already quite some time before. I guess it started when we had a first, if brief honest talk in ages after she had borrowed me her tape of last year's homecoming for the memorial video of Lilly. It was then that I allowed myself to remember her as the friend she used to be and not just the friend who had betrayed me and turned her back on me at the time I would have needed her most. Ever since then I felt my anger towards her cooling down. And the fact that it hurt so damn much each time she suspected me of this or that was another pointer that things were changing between me and Veronica yet again, because really, why should I care what one Veronica Mars thought of me?
A change I didn't want and fought against it all I could. Knowing myself, I probably would have won that particular fight. But then Christmas happened. The poker game and that damn party of my mother. She investigated who had stolen the money and I couldn't help but think how cute she was doing her Nancy Drew stuff. It irritated the hell out of me. She blackmailed me into hosting the second poker night, facing my mother's wrath to dare organize such a thing on the evening of her big party and it was even cuter, which in turn irritated me even further. Then she laid out just how it had been Sean and how it couldn't have been anyone else and I was actually speechless with amazement. Sure, I've known she was doing all that P.I. work for her father and her schoolmates and despite having heard of her success, even witnessing it myself a few times, I somehow still had never given it to her. Because I made the mistake to mistake her with the soft, innocent girl she used to be. That night I finally recognized that she really was that good at that stuff – and that she wasn't anything like the girl I used to know anymore. A thought that surprisingly saddened me as much as it infuriated me.
It didn't help that she just went and shoved that fact further under my nose by sitting down and dealing the cards like an actual pro, smiling smugly. And then she proceeded to relieve us of our money, not baiting an eyelash as she time and time again bluffed and conned – and won. Boy, that girl could poker.
Where the hell did she learn to poker like that?
I didn't know but I was pretty sure that it wasn't a recent ability of hers. She must have learned years ago to play like that – when we had still been friends. Yet, I had had no idea about that and I started to wonder just what else I didn't know about the girl that had been my second best friend for four years. And at the same time I started to finally understand just why this girl had been Lilly Kane's best friend. Let's face it, Lilly and Veronica had as much in common as a snake and a snail. Don't get me wrong, I loved Veronica and wouldn't have missed her friendship but even I had trouble seeing her as Lilly's best friend. But she was and I remembered that when I had asked Lilly just about that one day, she had just laughed, telling me that one day, I would understand.
Typical of her to have been right once again.
That night, I understood. First by watching her telling us her little 'who had done it' story in truest Agathe Christie style and then when she literally aced in poker, leaving us idiots not the slightest chance. There was more to one Veronica Mars that one would give it to her, even if you've known her pretty well. And later, after that bitch had stabbed my father and all hell had broken out, I understood again. More important, I remembered just why this girl had been one of my closest friends for years.
I remembered the moment her small hand had slipped into mine while I watched my mom clutching hysterically at my unconscious, bleeding dad and had gently squeezed it, not letting go until the ambulance finally arrived to take away my father to the hospital, Mom riding with him. And once again, as I stood there, staring after the ambulance, she took my hand – to press her car keys into my palm, telling me to go, that she and her dad would take care of the things there. With a last squeeze, she had turned and went over to the chef of the catering service. And I had left for the hospital in her car.
How ironic was that? Everything that had gone down between us since Lilly's death, the hate, the nasty remarks, the pranks and revenge acts and yet there she was, being there for me and doing everything in her power to help me get through that night.
That wasn't the girl I hated. That was the girl that had been my friend. And ever since then I missed just that girl so much. I was tired of hating her, tired of fighting against my instinct that told me loud and clear that I had been a fool to let go of that friendship. That I'd have needed her so much – and vice versa.
Worse. I grew aware that I wanted her back.
But really… Was that even possible after everything that had happened? I understand her and her decisions better now, but still, it had hurt so damn much that in the end she rather stood with her father than with her friends. Did I really want to risk being disappointed of her again? Did she want to risk it? I'm no fool, I know that I've hurt her as well. I've seen it in her eyes, heard it in the slight bitterness her voice carried sometimes whenever she spoke to me.
She whimpered in her sleep and automatically, I drew her closer, my hand running in smoothing circles over her back.
Of course all of that doesn't matter anymore.
The moment I realized what was happening with one look onto her face, watching Clemmons and the cops approach her, I knew that it didn't matter anymore. All that did matter was that she'd need someone to be there for her now and if she wanted it or not, I'd be there for her. Her dad may be gone, but she'll have me. Not that I could ever replace her father or anything like that – but I'll be there and make sure she knows that she's not alone.
We used to be friends. We can be again.
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When I woke up the next morning, I was alone in my bed and in the first moment, I didn't remember why that bothered me so much. Then though I remembered, and alarmed, I shot up, looking around. No Veronica, no Back-Up. Had she left? But where to? And just what exactly did she plan to do?
I jumped up and made a beeline for my door when at that moment, she came back in. She was still pale and her face was even more expressionless than Darth Vader's mask, but she seemed to be okay. Alive. I breathed with relief, then narrowed my eyes. "Where have you been?"
She didn't look at me when she answered, her voice toneless. "Bach-Up needed to go out. I let him out into your backyard, hope that's okay."
I frowned. Something wasn't right here. She was way too – calm. "Sure, no problem. I just…" I trailed off, not really wanting to admit that I'd feared she had done something stupid.
She showed no reaction though as she walked by me and sat down onto one of my chairs, her head down and her hair denying me a peek at her face while she rhythmically stroked Back-Up.
Biting my lip, I watched her for a moment, trying to figure out what to do now. Yesterday had been easy. While she had cried, I had known what to do. Not that there was much. All I could do was hold her and see to it that I got her away from school so she'd have a little privacy. I grinded my teeth as I remembered the unforgivable way the sheriff had broken the news to her. Sure, it was no secret that there was no love lost between the Mars family and Sheriff Lamb, but really, to go confront her in front of the whole school was downright cruel and sadistic and I know that I would always hate him from now on for doing that to Veronica. I've never liked him anyway, but now he definitely had gone too far. And I already planned to let him know that. It has its uses to be an Echolls.
Once I had her safely at home though, I remembered Back-Up and I had known immediately that I needed to somehow get him. And a few things for her couldn't hurt either. There had been only two problems: First, I had no idea where she lived now and second, there was no way in hell that I'd leave her. Nor was I going to take her home, pretty sure that the reporters were already swarming around her place. Keith Mars may not have been a celebrity, but the former sheriff getting killed right in front of his office was for sure going to make the news, especially if they remembered the whole fiasco with Lilly. And I knew they would remember and have no qualms to dig that one out again as well.
Thankfully though, some girl geek with blue strays in her hair had come over to me just as I buckled Veronica into my car, wordlessly pushing a bag I vaguely recognized as Veronica's into my hand, her sad and worried eyes never leaving Veronica's face. She had turned around and was gone before I could say anything. Not that I had wanted to. All I had wanted was to get Veronica as far away from school as possible.
So I had fished out her cell from the depths of her bag and had searched her address book for the kid she hang around with nowadays. It didn't take long to find his name. It took a considerably longer time to first convince his mother to let me talk to him, apparently he was sick with the flue, and then to explain to him why Logan Echolls called him to tell him to bring Back-Up and a few things for Veronica over to my house. Of course I probably should have told him straight out that Keith was dead instead of just basically ordering him around, but I really was more worried about Veronica than to worry about the feelings of a guy I didn't know at all. Anyway, an hour later, Fennel had dropped off Back-Up and a full bag for Veronica. Apparently, the boy had demanded to be let in, but I had instructed the guards to not let anyone in and when I told them about Fennel going to show up, I never revoked that order for him. I didn't thought about it, frankly said, though I guess Fennel and probably even Veronica would have to say something about that sooner or later.
Of course I'm not sure just how much Veronica really remembered of yesterday. She had been so broken, so lost in her own pain, crying, sobbing and crying again. After her initial fight against me, when she had lashed out at me in her pain and anger, she had grown seemingly weak willed. At one point she had just done whatever I told her to do and frankly said, that had freaked the heck out of me. That wasn't anything like her.
Then again, this was an extremely extreme situation…
But yeah, I at least had an idea what to do with a crying Veronica. Now that the tears were gone I had no clue what to do or say. I could ask if she was okay, but that was ridiculous. She was very much not okay, that much was obvious.
"Want something for breakfast?" I finally asked softly in lack of a better idea.
"No."
Okay.
"Want at least something to drink?" I asked after a moment.
"No."
Okaaaay.
With a sigh I decided that perhaps it was best to just leave her alone. Well, I wasn't going to leave her alone, but I could stop trying to make conversation or ask stupid questions. I felt the need to go to the bathroom though and with a hesitant look her way, I quickly went. Once I've hurried back, she didn't seem to have changed her position at all. Still leaving her alone, I went over to my closet and at least changed my shirts. Probably I should have taken a shower, but right then I didn't feel comfortable to leave her alone that long – even though I don't need long if I want to.
I didn't know where this unwillingness to leave her out of my eyes had come from, but it was as it was and I just followed my instinct like I usually do.
"How comes Back-Up is here?"
Her voice startled me and I turned to look at her. Her position was still the same, giving me no chance to get a good look at her face.
"I asked Fennel to bring him here. There's also a bag with a few things for you," I answered, trying to sound neutral.
"Wallace? He's sick."
All in the same, expressionless voice. God, how I missed her biting sarcasm right now!
"Almost back to normal. He wanted to go to school today. I did advise him though to be sick for a couple of more days," I told her with a shrug, sitting down onto my bed.
She fell silent again. When her silence prolonged, I guessed that that was that for the moment and looked around, trying to find something to occupy myself with. Usually I'd probably play video games but I had the feeling that the sounds of guns and explosions weren't the right thing for her to hear right now.
"And why are we here?"
I looked back to her, confused. "Hmm?"
"Why are we here?" she repeated, her hand stroking Back-Up still the only movement of hers.
I frowned, understanding dawning on me. Oh… that.
"It just was the best place I could think off to bring you to," I said quietly, avoiding giving a direct answer. "They're going to find you sooner or later. Here at least you'll be safe from the hounds."
Silence again so I picked up my search for something to do. Anything.
"I don't need your pity."
"What?" My head flew back around to her.
This time, she moved. Her head rose and she glared at me out of angry, green eyes. "I don't need nor want your pity."
I sighed and shook my head. "It's not pity, Ronnie," I said softly.
"Yeah right!" she snorted and jumped to her feet to stalk over to me, Back-Up looking up at her out of startled, worried eyes. "Fifteen months of animosity and hate, you never leaving an opportunity out to humiliate and hurt me or if not that to simply ignore me and give me the cold shoulder. Fifteen months of letting me feel your wrath and then boom, from one second to the other that is simply forgotten and you're nice to me again all of a sudden? But oh, wait, it's not that sudden after all, is it? You should have told me that all it took for you to forgive me whatever horrible thing I've done to you in your eyes is for one of my parents to die. Perhaps I could have arranged it sooner then!"
Okay. I knew she was hurting. Knew that she was lashing out, taking her anger out on the nearest, suitable person. I knew that. It's what I had done after Lilly's murder, my victim being Veronica. So I understood. Didn't mean it still didn't hurt though.
"Ronnie," I started as softly as before.
"Don't call me Ronnie!" she snapped, her eyes blazing.
"I always called you Ronnie," I said, frowning. It was true. It always had been Ronnie. Basically she hated it, but that never stopped me from keeping calling her like that. At one time she stopped minding and then she even began to like it. Though I was the only one that was allowed to call her like that and I liked that. Actually, it downright bothered me when someone else used that nickname on her. It was my name for her. Even now when Dick sometimes refers to her as Ronnie when he haunts her I feel myself becoming annoyed by that. Friends or enemies, using Ronnie is my privilege.
"No! No, you called that girl Ronnie," she contradicted, her finger pointing to a picture of us and Lilly and Duncan that stood on my night table. After our falling out, I've removed the pictures that showed me and Veronica, but I hadn't been able to remove that one as well. "We both know I'm not that girl anymore. We're not friends anymore. We hate each other!"
My gaze lingered on the picture for a moment, before I looked back up to her. "No, we're not the same as them anymore. We've both changed since then. And yet, we still are the same people, Ronnie. We were friends once. I do remember that."
"Oh really? You could have fooled me there," she said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.
"I… Shit…" I murmured, rubbing my eyes. I know I said I wanted to be there for her, do whatever I can to help her through this. But had she really to pick out the matter of our past year to avoid dealing with her father's death? Opening my eyes again, I search her eyes and held them. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I know I've been a jerk. Though you've got to admit that you hadn't been always a sweet little angel either. But… I don't hate you." Her eyes narrowed and I hurried to continue. "I'm tired of hating you, probably because I never really hated you. I was angry, yeah, furious even and I did everything to fuel that fury. But I didn't hate you – couldn't."
She stared at me for a long moment, before closing her eyes and letting her head fall down, her anger gone as suddenly as it had came. She looked so forlorn all of a sudden that the only thing I wanted to do was taking her into my arms. But I knew that right now, this wasn't a good idea.
"And this change of mind, if you want, is not because…" my voice trails off as I see her stiffen, a trembling going through her tiny body. "I wanted to talk to you for a while, especially after Christmas. I just didn't know how. Or what to say once I got you alone somewhere to have that talk. But basically, what I wanted to say is that if you're okay with it, I'm more than happy to leave our little war behind. And…" I took a deep breath. "And perhaps even try to rekindle our friendship, at least to some degree."
"Just like that? Just forget that hell the last year had been, thanks to you?" she asked, not sounding angry again but defeated.
I winced. It had been so easy to turn to enemies. It looked as it was a lot harder though to get back to being friends again. I sighed. "No, not forget. But perhaps move past it?" I asked hopefully.
For a moment, her eyes met mine and then she laughed. A bitter, humorless that I hated instantly. "God Logan, why do you always have to floor me on top of my world crumbling down?" she asked and her voice quavered. "First you toss me aside as if all those years of being friends had never existed when Lilly died and now, now…" Tears sprang out of her eyes and I couldn't hold back anymore. I stood up and had her swallowed up in my arms in an instant. She didn't fight me as I've halfway expected her too, but she didn't react by holding me back either. "…you suddenly want to be friends again? I just don't get you anymore, Logan, and I can't..."
Well, looking at it like that I could understand why she saw a pattern there. I drew her closer. "I don't intend to, Ronnie, really," I whispered into her ear, brushing the back of my hand over her cheek. "But I can promise you here and now that if you'll let me, I'm here for you from now on. I know it won't come back overnight, but you can trust me. Count on me. I'm not going to leave you alone."
She let out a gurgled sound and then surprised me by putting her arms around my neck and burying her face into my neck, sobs wracking her body once again. I simply continued to hold her, murmuring soft reassurances to her. I wasn't telling her that everything was going to be alright. I just assured her again and again that I would be there, that I wasn't leaving again.
It's not much, I know, but what else could I do? I hated to see her hurting so much and the need to comfort her, protect her was overwhelming, instinctive and familiar. Perhaps, it wouldn't be so hard to find back to our friendship after all.
I have no idea just how much time had passed until her sobs finally quieted down again and she now stood, simple holding on to me.
"I need you to do me a favor," she whispered eventually.
I leaned back to look down at her. "Anything," I simply said and meant it. I was more than happy to do something finally.
She lifted her face to me, the tears having dried already, a mask of determination now and I felt the hairs on my neck standing up. I wasn't going to like this.
"I need you to take me down to the morgue," she said quietly, but firmly.
Nope, definitely didn't like it.
I felt my eyes widen and automatically, I shook my head. "No way."
"Please Logan, I need to see him," she insisted though, her eyes wide and pleading now – and so sad. "I need to see for myself that… that… I just have to. And I want to be able to at least say… goodbye… to him… this way," she continued, her voice failing her several times and each time I had to see her struggle to say it anyway.
"Ronnie… I really don't think that's a good idea," I said as gentle as I could.
"Well, I don't care what you think!" she immediately snapped, her eyes narrowing. "He's my father. I have the right to see him! But fine, if you don't want to I can always take a cab," she hissed, shoving me back to go over to where her bag sat on the floor.
"The hell you are," I said not less heatedly and then forced myself to take a deep breath. "Okay, I'll drive you, but I want it noted that I still think it's a bad idea."
"Noted," she replied coldly. But she had turned back to me, her arms tightly crossed over her chest.
I studied her stance for a moment and then frowned. "Now?" I asked incredulous.
She just nodded and looked over to Back-Up. "Is it okay if he stays here? He'll behave."
"Sure, no problem," I murmured, grabbing my jacket.
I watched as she quickly leaned down to ruffle over Back-Up's head and then picked up her bag from the floor. Silently, I opened the door and held it open for her. Avoiding looking at me, she moved past me with her head down.
Shaking my head, I followed her, closing the door after me.
This was such a bad idea.
And where the hell was the morgue anyway?
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I parked in front of the morgue and turned the motor off, glancing at Veronica who had her head turned away from me, gazing out of the window. She hadn't said one word apart of giving me the directions the whole ride over.
On the other hand, what were you supposed to talk about on your way to the morgue? To go see her dead father?
Suppressing a sigh, I looked at the building in front of me. I've learned over the past fifteen minutes that Neptune actually doesn't have a real morgue – just two rooms in the base of the hospital, one to do the autopsies and one to store the dead I guess.
And I so didn't want to see that in real. Just thinking about it was bad enough. Sure, I'm not squeamish, but I draw the line at bodies.
"You don't have to come with me."
I looked back at Veronica, still facing away from me. That's where she was wrong. I did have to. I didn't want her going in there alone. I couldn't let her go through that alone.
With a sigh, I opened my door. "Come on. Let's go," I simply said and got out.
By the time I was around the car, she had gotten out as well and I beeped the car locked. Silently, I followed her as she led me over the parking lot, not to the main entrance of the hospital but to a back door. Dimly, I wondered what I should think about her knowing the way to the morgue that well. What had she been up to this last year for her to know the way by heart?
We entered the building without knocking and once inside, she let me down the corridor until she came to a stop in front of two big swing doors, labeled with 'Morgue'. I guess that's it, I thought resigned, waiting for her next move. Of course I still hoped she would change her mind but my gut told me that within a few moments, I would enter a morgue for the first and hopefully last time in my life. Veronica hesitated though and I felt my hope rising again.
Unfortunately, at that moment, the door swung open and a tall guy with gray, long hair and a beginning baldness stepped out, wearing shorts and a Hawaiian shirt under the open white coat and there was blazing hard rock inside the morgue.
Okaaaay.
I guess TV shows and books actually don't exaggerate that much when they use a lost hippie with major weird and creep factor time and time again to fill the role of the pathologist.
He had seemed hyper enough, coming out, but the instant his eyes fell on Veronica, he sobered up, sympathy overtaking him.
"Oh Veronica," he exclaimed and the next moment he had engulfed her in a big hug. "I'm so sorry, Sunshine. He was such a great man," he said and he sounded as if he actually meant every word he had said.
I frowned none the less. First, because I wasn't sure how Ronnie was going to take all the hug and sympathy and second, Sunshine? Just how well did Veronica know that guy?
Once the guy finally released Veronica again, she pushed her hands deeply into her pockets and tried to give the guy a weak smile – failing miserably. "Thanks Fausto," she said, barely above a whisper.
Fausto?
The guy nodded solemnly, then narrowed his eyes, studying her for a moment. With a sigh, he shook his head. "Veronica, no," he said ever so softly.
Frustration flickered over her face before she fixed the guy with her eyes, pleadingly. "Please Fausto. I need to see him."
But the guy shook his head. "First, you know I'm not allowed to let you in. And then, you don't want to see him, remembering him like that. Trust me on this one, Sunshine."
Instantly, her pleading eyes turned to smoldering fury. I was glad I wasn't at the end of that glare for a change. "Don't tell me what I want or need!" She bit her lip and drew in a staggering breath. "Please Fausto. I need to see him, see for myself that… I just have to." Desperation crept into her voice and I felt my heart clench for her again. "You know I have to," she added in a whisper, not looking at him at that but at her feet.
At that moment I knew he would give in. And sure enough, a moment later he cursed very imaginatively and stepped back, waving us in, casting a wary look up and down the corridor. Veronica didn't wait for a second invitation. Reluctantly, I followed her in, trying to brace myself to what awaited me inside.
A body.
Worse, Keith Mars' body, the cold shell of a man I've known for many years and who I actually had liked. The man that had driven me and the others countless times home or had come to pick us up somewhere. And it had been kind of cool. He was driving a squat car after all and a few times, when we had been younger, he had actually turned on the lights and sirens. Plus, he had always been nice to us kids. Not cold tolerance as it had been always the case with Celeste Kane or forced companionship with my parents, he had just been nice. Trusty, just like a sheriff was supposed to be. Good, it hadn't taken long and he had always reserved a warning glare for us boys when we've met but otherwise he always had been kind. He was totally nuts with his over protectiveness of Ronnie of course, but then, most dads were. As a cop, he was just a bit more careful – and harder to fool. But I liked him. Of course then had come the whole Lilly fiasco and I turned to hate him, not able to understand how he could even think for a second that Jake had killed his own daughter.
I still respected him though. And after he had risked his life for my father, saving him, though, if you ask me, that was totally a waste of time, I sure couldn't hate him any longer. I still couldn't understand him but I've remembered that none the less, he was a good man. Actually, it had been my intention to go by his office one day and thank him for his help that day.
Of course I've never gotten the chance to do that. The only thing I could do now was trying to take care of his daughter the way I know he would have wanted someone to take care of her.
To my immense relief, there was no body stretched out in the room we had entered. There was a line walled with little, quadratic doors though and I shuddered, only knowing too well just what may lay behind them.
Veronica though headed straight for a set of doors at the other end of the room and my relief vanished when I realized that after entering the room behind those doors, I would no longer be able to avoid seeing the body.
But just as I, and,as I realized the pathologist as well, moved to follow her, she briefly stopped with a hand on the door, looking back at us.
"No. Stay."
"Ronnie," I protested at the same time as the other guy said "Sunshine" in as a protesting manner and I guess we sported identical deep frowns of disapproval between our eyes.
"I need to do this alone," she simply said and slipped inside, the door falling close behind her.
I exchanged a wary glance with the pathologist – but none of us made a move to follow her.
Fuck.
With a hiss, I started to pace in front of that damn door, glaring at it. Torn between being annoyed by the fact that Ronnie always had to be so damn stubborn – and worry for her being in there alone with the body of her father.
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She had cried again, that much was obvious when she finally emerged from the room again, avoiding to look at me or Fausto.
"Did it help?"
At that sarcastic question, I glared over to the guy. Couldn't he see how hard this was on her already? The last she needed was some jerk rubbing it in! But his eyes were gentle and sad as he looked at Veronica.
She nodded, not daring to speak I guessed. Slowly, she came over to stand by me. Worried, I briefly touched her arm. There was a slight tremor going through her body but she still moved a bit closer. Not close enough to touch me, but closer anyway and the gesture, as small as it was, warmed my heart, despite everything.
"What kind of caliber was it?"
That question brought me crashing to the ground, hard. What?
The pathologist's eyes narrowed as he shook his head. "No Veronica. You're not going to do that."
"Do what?" she asked in such innocence that I too narrowed my eyes. I knew her well enough to not buy that one and apparently, Fausto didn't either.
Actually, it seemed as if her answer even angered him.
"You'll leave that alone, Veronica Mars. Let the sheriff do his work," he warned.
Okay, I'm usually not that slow, but what exactly was going on here?
She raised her head to look at Fausto with dangerously gleaming eyes. "Yeah, of course. I'm sure he'll do whatever he can to find the bastard who has killed my father. And he has such a good record of tracking down the right killers."
My eyes widened as the light finally flashed on in my head.
Fuck, no! No fucking way!
"Sunshine…" Fausto sighed.
"No, it's okay. Thanks for… well, thanks," Veronica said briefly and then hurried out of the room.
Quickly, I started to hurry after her, but Fausto stopped me with a hand on my arm. Frowning, I looked impatiently at him.
"Keep watch over her. Don't let her out of your eyes. And for God's sake, don't let her do anything stupid," he downright ordered me, his eyes boring into mine.
I simply nodded then went after her.
That was the plan.
But knowing one Veronica Mars, it would be one hell of a task to do so.
I did mention that she's pigheaded, didn't I?
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TBC!
(Author's Note: The story had me in its grip, it seems. Of course, the many simply wonderful reviews you guys gave me for the first chapter that blew me away, helped as well. Hope you liked this chapter as well. And yeah, this fic will alter in Logan and Veronica's POV. I just can't resist going a little into Logan's head. It's such a fascinating place to be in!)