If You Needed Me…

"No one ever told me that grief felt so much like fear."- C.S. Lewis

Two

Mac stood by the cemetery gates, frowning at the large, unexpected gray clouds that rolled over the sun. It was still warm, though, as she walked toward the funeral, and she tugged at the thick black collar of her long-sleeved black shirt.

Her appearance at Cassidy Casablanca's funeral would, perhaps, become her largest secret. If Veronica found out, she would feel betrayed, and justly so. But still, as the hour loomed ever closer, Mac found herself picking out black clothes and blotting on lip gloss.

As she suspected, the funeral was scarcely populated. She saw several people, standing around the brown and gold coffin that was adorned in a lavish display of red roses. Of those standing around the hole in the ground, Mac recognized only one person – Dick.

As soon as she saw the miserable expression on his face, Mac knew that she couldn't allow him to see her. Word around Neptune was that Dick had become unstable, after the death of his younger brother. Mac knew that seeing his little brother's girlfriend could ignite his anger, and she didn't want to cause a scene.

Cassidy's father was nowhere to be seen, and neither was his well-tanned, busty step-mother. Dick stood among a few older individuals, who were obviously old friends of the family. A small part of Mac longed to go and stand beside him, grasp his arm as they both bid farewell to the good things about Cassidy.

Even considering that a rapist and murderer could have "good things" about him made Mac shudder, but it was true. Despite the fact that Cassidy had taken advantage of Veronica, killed the kids on the bus, and killed Keith… Mac still believed that Cassidy was, at the core of everything, a victim. Victim of that slimy scoundrel, Woody Goodman.

The rain began to fall and the funeral-goers sprouted black umbrellas, all except Dick. Mac watched as the rain made dark spots on Dick's grey suit, watched as the tall, confident male swiped at his eyes.

The pastor finished saying whatever it was that he said – Mac couldn't hear, from where she hid behind a tree – and the funeral-goers began patting Dick's shoulder and trickling away to their shiny cars. Mac waited for a long while for Dick to leave the grave site and allow her a moment alone with Cassidy, but he didn't leave. Not even when the pastor laid a hand on his arm and advised that he go.

The rain picked up, turning into a full-force downpour. Mac didn't care that her carefully-chosen black outfit was drenched. She only wanted to say goodbye in peace, without drama or prying eyes. It was, after all, a secret that she decided to make an appearance. In her situation, however, Mac saw that she would be unable to be discrete. She walked through the wet grass and came to stand beside Dick.

"What are you doing here?" he muttered, without glancing up from the coffin. Mac cleared her throat but still, her voice came out as a croak.

"I wanted to say goodbye."

"He never cared about you." The gently uttered words were like a spear to Mac's already grieving heart. She felt a lump growing in her throat and she swallowed around it.

"You're probably right."

"I am." Without sparing a single glance in her direction, Dick walked away. Mac watched as he paced quickly through the rain, to his car. He drove away, tires squealing, and Mac was finally alone.

"Um…miss?" Mac looked up from the coffin that held him – the boy she once believed she loved – and saw that the funeral home employee was standing impatiently by the graveside.

"Please, just give me a moment," Mac muttered and placed her hand on the wet coffin surface. "Goodbye." With a sniffle, she turned and walked away. It was time to continue – time to remember that life goes on.

Mac dialed Veronica's cell for the hundredth time that week. Keith's funeral was in a few days and, after that, the reading of his will. Mac was concerned for her friend – concerned that she wasn't being properly comforted.

But one thing kept Mac from marching to Veronica's apartment and pounding on the door – fear.

She was terrified of the grief that Veronica was enduring. She couldn't fathom losing someone so close and, knowing that the two Mars detectives were closer than was the norm, Mac couldn't face her.

It was just too hard.

She was just too afraid.

Still, in her heart, Mac hoped earnestly that someone was with her, helping to ease her pain – holding her while she cried, keeping her from teetering over the edge, and, most importantly, making her laugh, too.


"LOGAN!" Veronica wailed, giggling, as she dashed through the apartment and fell face-first on her bed. "Put on some pants!"

"Don't worry your poor virgin heart," Logan called after her, chuckling. "I'm not so scantily attired now." He plopped down on the bed beside her, wearing a pair of shorts and a blue t-shirt.

"Yes, well 'scantily attired' was an understatement. If we're going to live here together, you're going to need some modesty."

"Oh, come on, Mars. You know that it's customary for room-mates to be upfront with one another."

"Logan, 'upfront' would be telling you when you need to change your socks. What just happened… that was harassment."

"You get one peep for free," he added with a wide grin. Logan rose and made his way to the kitchen, as Veronica peeled her face from the bed. He called out, "What do you want for dinner?"

"Um…. Ice cream?" Veronica meandered into the kitchen, sat on a barstool, and grimaced at the pile of dishes in the sink. "We need to clean up."

"Yeah, you'd better get on that, wifey." Logan spun around, holding out a phone book. Veronica's brow arched upward.

"What's that for?"

Logan sighed and leaned over the counter. He pointed to the number and address for a Chinese restaurant. "Allow me to teach you the ways of true roomies. Chinese takeout, to your heart's content."

Pursing her lips, Veronica took the phone book and dialed the number.

Twenty minutes later, four open to-go boxes littered the countertops and they sat on the sofa, stuffing their faces. "Hm, what about this one?" Logan turned up the volume on the television. "Who did it?"

It was a CSI rerun. Veronica shrugged and wiggled her way closer to Logan. "How should I know?"

"You're the detective," he insisted. "Shouldn't you have a sixth sense about these things?"

"Only if I've seen the episode before," she replied with a cheeky grin. Prodding at her noodles, Veronica became aware of Logan's arm tightening around her. She glanced up at him to see that he was utterly entranced by the TV.

Smiling, she leaned over and placed a chaste kiss to his cheek. Surprised, Logan tore his eyes from the crime scene on the TV and cocked his head at Veronica.

"Thanks," she explained, feeling the familiar tug of her emotions as they took control. "Thanks, for holding me together through all this."

Logan's eyes glossed over but he didn't glance away. "You know, you've been glue for me, too." Clearing his throat, he put his food on the coffee table. "So…thanks, too."

"You're welcome," she said and laid her head on his shoulder. Closing her eyes, she listened to his shallow breathing and committed the rhythm of the dull thud of his heartbeat to memory.

Logan couldn't seem to focus on the TV show for the rest of the evening.


I circumvented my creative dryspell by exploring the Mac-Dick dynamic a little. Let me tell ya... Dick is my VERY FAVORITE character, so you'll be seeing a lot of him. I think he's funny and, believe it or not, intelligent. He just hides it, with humor, and I think he could use a friend like Mac to draw it out every once in a while. ^.^

How cool would it be, for Veronica's best friend to become friends with Logan's best friend? :D

Let me know your opinions on this, and whatnot. I know it's moving slowly, but things move really slowly after something as horrible as the death of a loved one. If you've experienced it, you understand.

Happy writing!