A/N: I've been agonizing over this for better part of two months and I finally had enough. I wash my hands of it because I'm tired of editing and rewriting it over and over again. The tone was so hard to balance - I wanted to explain a little about Veronica's dark past with Troy, while not completely losing the humor of the past few chapters, and move the relationship forward a smidgen at the same time (it's so hard trying to take it slow when all I want to do is throw them headfirst into LoVe!). Enjoy.
The Road To Hell Is Paved By Fools
Logan was vaguely aware of Dick and Beaver at his back, but he ignored them as his entire attention was focused on the couple in front of him.
"Fucking bitch! You made me lose my football scholarship!"
The tall sandy-haired boy was screaming in her face, his hands fisted on either side of Veronica's head, his rangy body blocking her from escaping.
"I'm glad! You deserve everything you get you sick fuck!"
"I'm the sick fuck? I'm the sick fuck? If you weren't so frigid in bed, I wouldn't have had to find other tail."
"So it's my fault you raped that girl?"
"It's not called rape when she's begging for it."8
"Ooh, really? How can a semi-comatose girl beg for sex?"
"Fucking lying whore! She wanted it so bad she practically shoved it in my face."
"She was fourteen at the time, Troy! And she was drugged! The tox screens from the hospital proved there was GHB in her system; drugs you supplied."
"You can't prove that."
"You're right, I can't. But there was video on your phone of you raping an unconscious minor courtesy of your dumb-ass friends. That I can prove!"
Logan saw an ugly expression flash across Vandegraff's face and knew - just fucking knew - he was going to haul back and punch her. Everything seemed to slow down and take on a red film as if the world was awash in blood; then suddenly, clarity came back with a rush when he realized his fists were repeatedly pummeling the other kid's face as he sat on his chest.
"What the fuck are you doing, Echolls?"
Veronica's tone was frigid, a refreshing snap back to a confusing reality.
"Uh...saving you?"
"I think you can get off him now."
Logan stared down at Vandegraff's pulped face with fierce satisfaction, even if he didn't remember how he got from standing on the sand to punching the guy out. He looked at his hands and saw the skin was split, blood running in thin rivulets; pain was there, but dull, not sharp, so he knew he didn't break anything, which seemed a minor but important detail.
"Echolls get the fuck off him."
He felt her words, her command, deep in his bones as if the marrow of his body responded to her in the most primal of ways; he slowly slipped off the now unconscious boy and stood, turning to her furious face with his hands uncurled and defenseless. Veronica's eyes were the blue heart of flame, a scorching heat that sought to separate flesh and muscle from bone.
"I'm perfectly capable to take care of myself and didn't need you to interfere."
"He was going to hit you."
"So?."
"What exactly could you do?" Logan knew mocking her defense skills wasn't the best way to go, but his temper was still riding a thin line and his blood pounded through him in an obvious way.
"I would've jammed his instep, before kneeing his groin, and finish up by popping him in the nose."
Logan stared at Veronica's piquant face then down at her persecutor. "As if that works outside movies. Unless you learned those moves in a self-defense class?"
"Well, when you're the size of a Polly Pocket doll, you gotta learn how to step up. And no, I learned it from Big Betty down at the Y."
"Ironic friendship?"
"Not really; bitch hated me and whomped on me every chance she got. I was tired of being beaten up, so I watched Karate Kid a few dozen times, learned how to do the Crane and went down to kick her ass."
"I'm sensing a "but" here."
"...but I slipped on some wet tiles, cracked my head, and had to be taken to the hospital for several stitches." She leaned forward, parting her hair in the back and he could see a long white zag at the base of her skull. "Wicked cool scar according to Max, but I can't see it." Veronica straightened with a bitter laugh, oblivious to his outstretched hand or his desire to cradle her skull and touch the proof of her imperfection.
"Why the hell did you interfere with my conversation with Troy?"
"You call that conversation? Where I come from, it's an argument. And if you wanted it to be private, probably should've have yelled at the top of your lungs."
She sighed, laughter draining from her face. "Yeah, well, it was none of your fucking business." The sudden hardness of her tone was jarring and Logan stiffened against the rejection of his help.
"He was going to hit you." Logan's quietly furious tone gave each word a raw edge capable of bleeding the unwary. "Boys don't fucking hit girls."
A spark of something old and dangerous slipped across the seething surface of her eyes, instantly consumed by the heat of her anger. Logan half-recognized it, but his mind refused to put a name to the emotion because he instinctively knew it would make the embers of his own formidable temper burn higher until he was ablaze with righteous fury. It was better for them both, for everyone, if he didn't know whatever put that look on Veronica's face.
"Am I supposed to call you my hero now,?"
A sardonic smile curled his lips. "I can see how you might confuse my wetsuit for a unitard, but trust me when I say there's no S secretly painted on my chest."
Her head tilted slightly as she considered him, blond hairs slipping across her face and delicate neck. He wanted to brush them away, feel the silky strands, but just managed to keep himself from touching her by curling his hands into fists again, relishing the dull ache radiating upwards to his wrists.
"If there was, somehow I doubt it would stand for Superman."
"Is that anyway to talk to your hero?"
"Well, if I see him, I won't be rude." She stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and took his abused hands into hers, thin fingers gently wiping the blood away. "You break your knuckles?"
Logan shook his head, voice caught behind a huge lump in his throat. If he didn't know it wasn't medically possible, he would think it was his heart blocking the way. Her skin was soft and cool against his, easing the pain away with every small touch. He wasn't used to tenderness and wanted to strain away from it, but he was also afraid to move, to shatter the moment.
"He wouldn't have hit me, you know. He's scared of me."
"What did you do to make him scared?"
He caught the edge of a grin before she ducked her head again to stare at their entwined hands. "I locked him and five of his buddies into the gym at his school and threatened to burn it down."
"Holy shit! That was you?"
A red tide flushed her cheeks. "Yeah."
"I remember seeing it on the news. A few weeks after he was brought up on charges of statutory rape..." his voice trailed off as her earlier words came back to him. "Wait...was that what you were arguing about with him?"
She nodded, her mouth opening and closing, but no sound emerging. Her slender shoulders rose and fell with her breaths, then... "Her name was Callie. I knew her by sight, if not name. She was a nerdy band geek who played at every football game, and worshiped the ground Troy walked on."
Logan raised a bloodied finger to her lips and laid it against the berry-colored flesh. He didn't need Veronica to continue, to speak the awful truth he knew boiled within her. He was an 09er Prince, used to nerdy band geeks throwing themselves at him like flowers strewn beneath his feet, so he knew the end to this tale.
Knew by the use of the past tense, Callie no longer lived. She probably used a razor on thin wrists, or a bottle of pills, whatever would silence the soul-deep screams. Girls like that always took the melodramatic route; it was so sad to be a fucking cliche.
"His rich daddy got a high-priced lawyer to defend his scum-sucking son, but it was a moot point when they found her body."
"How did you find out?"
Veronica raised shame-filled blue eyes to his. "I was dating him at the time and didn't believe it. Couldn't believe it. If he did it, what did that make him? What did that make me for dating him?" Her mouth twisted in self-derision. "I figured it was a mistake, that somehow she'd mistaken him for someone else. She was drugged after all, so how could she really remember? I never called her any names, but I didn't defend her either. She was so fucking strong, she took all the crap his friends dealt to her, but she finally broke when they started writing "slut" and "whore" on her locker, got their girlfriends to throw her clothes in the toilet, ostracized her to the point everyone abandoned her."
"No, how did you find out?" He didn't know why it was so important for her to answer his question, but he asked it of her again.
"We were having a party at his place, and after several shots, I had enough so I went to his bedroom to sleep it off. I didn't want to sleep in my clothes, so I undressed and went through his drawer to get a shirt." Anger and shame vied for supremacy on her expressive face. "I saw his phone, the one he said he lost, buried beneath the clothes." Her voice had taken on a stilted quality, as if she were suppressing sobs. "I don't know what made me look. I don't know."
Logan closed his eyes and gently touched his forehead to hers. She sighed, a deep and low sound seemingly from her belly, and relaxed against him slightly. If he wasn't so attuned to her body, he would never have felt the give.
"By the time I gave the cops the evidence, her body was already four hours cold. I did it all for nothing. For fucking nothing. She's still dead, he's free, and I'm the potential arsonist with six restraining orders against me."
"Why go to that trouble when you already knew he had done it?"
"Because he never once admitted it: not to me, not to her, and certainly not to the cops. I just wanted him to say the words out loud, to let someone hear the fucking truth, even if the case would never go to trial. I was too late, too fucking late, and now..."
Veronica straightened away from him and let go of his hands. "And now he's unconscious on my turf courtesy of you, and I'm gonna get blamed for it."
Logan glanced over his shoulder to where Beav and Dick waited, their faces creased with concern and confusion. He knew how it looked, him and Veronica being close like this, but he couldn't explain it to them without betraying her confidence in him. Hell, he couldn't explain it to himself how the two of them had come to this in such a short time.
"I think the boys and I can take care of Vandegraff. He can't exactly lodge a complaint without witnesses, and it looks kinda suspicious him showing up in Neptune, the hometown of his rival school, and where his "stalker" lives."
"Why are you involving yourself with this Echolls? What do you get out of it?"
Her eyes had lost the hazy ocean blue of regret, and returned to the hot heart of a hungry flame. She regretted telling him her truths, had retreated behind the smokescreen of anger to shield her nakedness from him. He understood this, understood her if only in this moment, so he did her a kindness born of his understanding.
"Because I was hoping if I saved you from the bully, you'd tell Lily about it, and she might..." he trailed off meaningfully, hoping she would fill in the blank herself.
A faint smirk curved her lips and she stepped even further back. "...rethink her break up. Might think you turned from a shallow conceited overbearing prick into the guy she really looking for. What every woman looks for."
"Ouch, that's a little harsh."
"Truth hurts, huh?" Her eyes slipped from his and she turned her attention back to Vandegraff. "I will sing your praises from the friggin' rooftops if you'll take care of him. I can't afford to get sent to...to get in trouble for this."
"We will. We take care of our own."
"Spare me, Echolls. We both know I'm gold-plated. Just do this for me and I'll talk to Lily. Don't know what the hell I can say, but I'll put in a good word."
Logan swallowed hard at the tinge of bitter creeping into her tone again, but didn't refute her words. It was for the best; she really didn't belong with them, and it was good she knew it. It had just slipped out, but it didn't actually mean anything.
He was still staring after the long since departed Veronica when Dick and Beaver came to his side.
"Dude, what the fuck just happened?"
"Normally I'd be more eloquent than my brother, but...what the fuck?"
"This piece of shit thought it would be fun to come to our side and heckle his ex-girlfriend."
"Vandegraff went slumming in trailer-park world? Hope he had his shots; can never be too sure what diseases you might catch from girls like Mars."
Logan wasn't sure who was more surprised when he punched Dick and nearly knocked him over: Dick, Beav, or himself. Either way, he couldn't let his friend joke about this. Anything else about Veronica was fair game, but not this.
"Dick, listen to me. Say one fucking word about Veronica or Troy and I swear to God I will kick your ass." He glanced at his other companion. "The same goes for you too."
The blond surfer held his hand to his cheek, shock and wariness lacing his bright blue eyes. "Dude, chill the fuck out. I won't, I promise. Geesh, touchy touchy."
Beaver put up his hands in surrender; he knew there was no way he could hope to take on Logan and win. At least in a physical match. "I would like to point out I'm the one who told you Troy was messing with Veronica."
Logan drew a deep breath, trying to still his racing heart and find his zen zone, the sense of peacefulness he found whenever he was out on the water. He didn't know what made him react so violently to Dick's comment about Veronica. It wasn't like he hadn't said or thought similar things in the past two weeks about her himself.
Things were just different now.
"Sorry. I'm...yeah...anyway. Here's what we're going to do with Troy."
Later that night Logan lay across his bed watching the shadows dance and leap across his ceiling as he tried avoiding thoughts of Veronica. He wasn't used to being knotted up over a girl who's name didn't start with Lily and end with Kane. Three glorious years of riotous ups and downs as he fought, loved, and despaired over being good enough, sexy enough, or just fucking enough for the resident 09er princess.
He still remembered the first time he caught her making out with another guy on a bed during a party, her hand busily working the buttons of his jeans. He'd stood in the doorway watching as she moaned and writhed under the guy, her voice a husky rasp as she whispered how much of a turn on it was fooling around with her boyfriend in the next room.
A perverse sense of excitement had taken hold of him then, as if he were watching live porn instead of his girlfriend cheating on him. It was a surreal moment he never quite forgot, even as he snapped out of it, and broke the guy's jaw to the accompaniment of Lily's screaming "Stop!"
Before he realized it, Lily's irritated voice was in his ear. "What the hell, Logan? It's 2 AM. Why are you calling me now?"
"Did you ever love me? I mean, really love me?"
"Are you fucking kidding me? How much did you have to drink?"
"I'm sober."
"Bullshit. You only ask me these stupid questions when you're drunk."
"Probably because I'm afraid to ask you without liquid courage. You never said "I love you," to me, you know."
He could hear a faint rustling of her sheets as she turned over. The silence seemed deafening as it stretched on for eternity before she finally broke it with a faint sigh.
"Logan. I did. I do. But not in the way you need me to. I can't be ... you're just so ..."
"What? Just tell me Lily. Be honest with me for once."
"You're just so fucking needy! You need someone to be consumed by you, to be as crazy possessive and jealous as you are. I don't think you can be in a normal relationship with a girl."
"Define normal."
"Flirting. Fun. Dancing. Partying and laughing. You know, just let loose. You live too much in your head and I can't follow you there."
"I'm very fun."
"No, no you aren't. You're Heathcliff and Hamlet. And I refuse to be Catherine or Ophelia."
Logan felt as if his throat was being shredded as disbelieving laughter poured from him. "I'm not some fucking anti-hero or wailing bitch who's too limp-dick to take revenge."
"I'm just sayin' you're too high maintenance. You need what I can't give you. Hell, Logan, you need help. I mean with everything going on at your house..."
The click of his phone closing was loud in the hushed stillness of his room. At least thoughts of Veronica no longer crossed his mind.
