He'd been PLANNING on taking her to Las Vegas over the long weekend, but after she'd found out that the entire reason she'd ended up blowing a hole through Seann Fitzpatrick's chest was because the ex-boyfriend that she loved so much had left her alone on purpose, Veronica's mood had dropped and it stayed down. She was currently on the couch, eyes vacant and fixed on a rerun of Arrested Development as Don stood in the kitchen. He was making dinner, and he felt bad about it while he did it.
Her appetite had been gone all day. True, they'd slept until three or four in the afternoon, but she usually stuffed her face right when she woke up. In fact, Veronica was pretty much guaranteed to always have some sort of food with her; it was just what she did. She was like a fat kid in the body of a Pixie. However, ever since she'd been bomb-dropped after their risque lovemaking session – and could he even call it lovemaking, or would she freak out of she knew that? - she'd just been... quiet.
He swirled the steak around in the pan, looking at the tiny portion he'd cut for her. She'd probably eat the salad at least, and she would inevitably have Twizzlers later with the popcorn he'd gotten for the movie they'd been planning to watch, so – he frowned. He was literally standing in the kitchen, stressing about what his not-girlfriend was or wasn't eating. He looked up at her from around the corner, tilting his head a little. She was so absorbed in the show, she didn't even seem to really notice anything going on around her. It was probably for the best.
This was going to be a long weekend if she was going to be bummed out for the entire duration of it. He figured he'd surprise her with her Christmas present that night at least and make it worth her while.
"Hey, dinner's ready!" he called, trapped in front of the sink as he tried to quickly wash all of the pans he used before they ended up growing hair on them. He didn't hear a response, but when he turned around, she was smiling with a bowl of salad in her hand. He only didn't jump because he was awesome.
"Thanks," she said. She rewarded him with a light kiss on the lips, one that progressed momentarily into something deeper, and then she pulled away and went to the table to sit down. She brought the silverware and other odds and ends over while he tried to finish what he was doing, and then they both sat down to an actual dinner.
"This is a pretty nice change of pace, deputy," she said with a grin as she looked at him from across the table. "Better than takeout by miles."
He smiled back at her. "You're never going to stop calling me deputy, are you?'
"Haven't we been over this? I'll stop on the First of Nevuary," she retorted, biting into a carrot slice. She ate the majority of her salad, and some of the steak, but when she set the plate down by the sink, there was still a lot left. Enough that it warranted Don to double-check with her.
"You don't want me to throw some Saran wrap over this so you can have it tomorrow?' he asked, brow quirked. He didn't care either way, but he didn't want to toss it and then catch hell for it in six hours.
"Oh, no," she said, cracking open a Diet Sunkist. "I'm fine. I'm just – you know, no appetite today."
He stared at her for a long moment, even after she'd already turned back around to finish wiping down the counter for him. If he didn't see her resume her normal eating habits by Sunday, he'd bring it up again. Until then, he didn't want to make a big deal out of it.
Veronica leaned her head against his shoulder as they watched the Amityville Horror. It was freaking her out enough to make her not want the Twizzlers and the popcorn, though she did chew on half of one before discarding it when she went to get some water halfway through. Her mind was still swimming; she felt numb. All of that talking that had happened, and she'd turned into a zombie. She was there, but not there. She just kept replaying the night in question over and over again, trying to search for different outcomes.
She'd walked home. She'd cut through the alley by the video store. Seann had grabbed her, accused her of helping PCH steal... whatever, and then he'd pulled a gun on her. Veronica was not really happy about how much physical danger she kept being thrown into, and at that moment, she'd been especially displeased. A passing random biker had caused Seann to get distracted enough for her to hit him, and fight him for that gun. She hadn't wanted to shoot him, but he just... ran at her.
Eli had ended up taking her home that night, because Logan was MIA and Sheriff Lamb was covering the murder. There had been a lot of questions, most of which centered around why Veronica was in an alley with him in the first place. Lamb had backed her up, though, at least enough to keep her out of trouble. He was still awful to her when they spoke.
He leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek and she smiled up at him. She didn't know what she was going to do with this new information now that she had it. If he'd already done something about Logan, she didn't know about it, although his arrest record had gotten higher recently. She wondered if Wallace knew. She'd need to tell him the next time she saw him.
She must have fallen asleep, because she woke up in bed, wrapped up in Don's arms again. She couldn't see anything, because it was totally dark in the room – as usual – but it didn't stop her from tracing her index finger lightly along his jaw, lips, and ears. She loved the way his skin felt; the way he smelled, the way he sounded like he might snore and then didn't. She didn't know when it was that she'd fallen in love with him, or if it was real, since she had so much that needed to be sorted out, but she'd keep it in consideration for any future points in time.
Veronica pulled away from him slowly, and stole into the darkness of his house, wrapping his robe around herself as she did so. She needed to get as far away from his room as possible, and she needed to cover her tracks when she did it. She slipped something out of her purse, and then went quietly onto the back porch, closing the door behind her. She dialed out with her phone, and then dropped it into the pocket of the robe – the bluetooth would do the rest for her.
After a few rings, Weevil picked up. "Hey girl, don't you know how much ass I beat for people callin' me at – what time is it? Whatever, I was asleep. This better be good," he said, voice laden with a tired echo of someone who'd been very happily dosing.
Veronica laughed, and it was a bitter sound. "You remember the night Seann Fitzpatrick died?" she asked.
Weevil rolled over in his bed, foot tangling in some bedsheets and kicking them away violently. What the hell did his grandmother have the heat set to, anyways? "Oh," he said with a laugh. "Let's not be modest, Miss Mars. You mean the night you blew a hole through his chest?"
Veronica's entire demeanor iced over and she sat down in a chair at the table on the porch, lighting a cigarette. She took one drag off of it, making an awful face, and only didn't cough because she held it in. She held it between her fingertips while she contemplated how to cut Weevil down to size, but in the end, she just laughed a little humorlessly at his comment.
"You remember seeing Logan?" she asked, narrowing her eyes a little into the darkness.
"Wait, why you bringin' all this up now, V? Not only is it late, but that was a while ago, and honestly, I ain't thought much about nothin' since then," he confessed.
"What would you say if I told you that Logan was supposed to have brought me home that night, and he left me at the station house to walk?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral. Didn't want to inspire a reaction in him just yet; she'd rather wait and see how it played out.
"Que?" he asked. Weevil sat up in his bed. The fallout from the shooting had left his girl Veronica in a very delicate state, one he was a little more aware of than the rest of the idiots she knew. "What does that mean?"
"I don't know," she said honestly. She braved another drag off of the cigarette, but she almost gagged. "Someone could have told Seann I'd be walking home. Someone could have tipped him off – but someone also could have told Logan to leave me. Or, if there's no conspiracy theory, Logan really just was the cause of one of the most traumatic incidents in my life. Oh, wait, no, that'd be two," she mused aloud, her voice icy and calm.
"And what does your boytoy say about this?" he asked. He had a little hint of smug in his voice.
"Logan doesn't know. I haven't said anything to him yet. I called you when I couldn't sleep," she said matter-of-factly.
Weevil nodded, a doubtful laugh unsuppressed as he reached for the glass of water on his bedside table. "Veronica, tell me somethin' – what business you got out there off of Greenbriar and 57th?" he asked her. He was using his 'I already know but I want you to tell me' voice.
Veronica's eyes widened, and she put the cigarette out in the ash tray. "No idea what you mean," she said, tone calm. The problem with lying to Eli Navarro was that he was skillfully manipulative as well, but in his own way. He ruled through physical pain and fear, but he still knew when she was lying, because he could hear it in her voice.
"Now, I checked all those addresses out, 'cause I have it on good word that you're up there an awful lot. At first I thought to myself, 'Well, she's done and started using cocaine', like the rest of the normal 09ers," he began. "And imagine my surprise when I found out who lived in that area. So, Veronica," he said, his voice as cool as ever, "stop tryin' to play me like I'm one of your little fan club."
She laughed, her defense mechanism of making jokes with a light tone kicking in. "Aw, Weevil, I thought you were the president of the V-Mars fan club!" she said sweetly.
"Naw, but I bet ol' boy Lamb would love to take that position – if he hasn't already, I mean," Eli said with a harsh laugh.
Veronica was so mad for a split second, she almost lost her cool and just started hammering at Weevil with anything she could, but she saw a light from the kitchen flick on. "One second," she said quietly.
On the other end, Weevil indicated he'd heard her only by a coarse laugh. "I'm goin' to the bathroom. I'll be right back." She heard his phone hit the bedside table with a clunk and the faint rustling sound of him getting out of bed.
She ran her hands through her hair, causing it to fall over the earpiece she had, which was facing away from the door anyways, and put her hand on the table, the small blue Bic lighter resting under her fingertips. The sliding glass door opened, and Don stuck his head out, a groggy, confused expression on his face.
"Hey, what are you doing out here?" he asked. He looked at the table as his eyes focused and made a face at the lighter. "Oh, gross. Is this a new habit?" he asked, wrinkling his nose up at her.
She shrugged. "I couldn't sleep," she admitted. "Me and Lilly tried it once before, you know? Smoking. Sometimes when I think of her I'll light one up, but I don't think I know how to smoke, so I just end up choking and putting it out. Pretty stupid, huh?" she said. What she'd told him was true, but in this instance it had been a cover for the reason she was outside in the first place. Regardless, she knew a sentimental story would cease his questions rather quickly.
"Can't you be an alcoholic like the normal people?" he asked. He stepped out onto the smooth patio surface and leaned over to give her a kiss on the top of the head. "I'm going back to bed. Take as long as you want." He turned around and went back to the door, but before he closed it, he turned back around and gave her a funny look.
"You sure you're okay?" he asked, squinting a little at her.
"I'm fine, dear. Go back to bed," she said, a smile breaking on her face. She didn't like lying when he was being so genuine, but that was just how she operated. She'd screamed at him earlier and caused him to cough up all of the things he'd been holding back, and now suddenly she was using her charm to keep him at arm's length. At least when he was horrible, he was honest. Veronica smiled as she lied, and she wasn't sure which was worse.
He went back inside and left her alone, but Eli had picked up the phone sometime before then and heard the exchange in its entirety. "Awwww, that is too cute," he cooed at Veronica, setting back down.
"Shut up," she snapped. "It isn't what you think it is."
"Well, you don't know what I think it is, so you really can't say that for sure, can you now, Barbie?" he said with a teasing tone. "But I'll be sure to bring this up later. For now, I need to get my beauty rest, so if you would like to tell me the reason you called, at any point in this conversation..."
"I need to know if someone told Seann that I'd be walking home that night," she said. Her voice had gone back to that scary calm it did when she was hunting for answers. She shifted in her chair, looking back up at the door, but there was no movement from inside the house, and she turned back to look at the yard.
"Why do you always ask for me to find out shit that's like, impossible to know?" he exclaimed, rubbing his hand over his freshly-shaved head. "It's like you enjoy watching me work."
"Because you have a way of making people talk," she said coyly.
"Fine, I'll try. You owe me," he informed her.
"I owe you?' she asked with a laugh.
"Uh, yeah, I'd say so," he retorted. "Or I'll just have to let everyone know that the ol' Sheriff can count on your vote next election campaign."
Veronica narrowed her eyes again. "Did you just threaten me?" she asked, her voice light while she attempted to reign in her rage.
"Nah," he said happily. "But consider it insurance the next time I get my ass in legal trouble helpin' you out. Better let your boy know Eli Navarro has a get out of jail free card now," he added with a triumphant laugh. "I'll call you later."
The phone went dead. Veronica pulled her earpiece out and slipped it back into the pocket of the robe, along with the lighter. She went back inside and put them both into her purse, then went to wash her face, hands, and re-brush her teeth. Something about waking up in the middle of the night always made her compulsively brush as it was; add a cigarette to that – or, two drags of one, anyways – and it was like a recipe for a sound cleansing.
She crawled back into bed after discarding the robe, leaving a gap between she and the sleeping man. She didn't really want to be cuddled right now. She was feeling hungry from the poor excuse for a meal she'd eaten, but she didn't really want to make the effort to get back up and go back into the kitchen, so she rolled onto her side and stared into the darkness. The clock counted minutes and hours before she finally fell asleep.
She dreamed of falling into the ocean, and when she woke up, it was eight AM and Don was gone.