Author's Note: I apologize this update took so long. Work and school are exhausting. But I have been working on this when I have spare moments. I'm not sure how happy I am with the writing quality, but this does move the story along. I'm hoping to get chapter four written tomorrow, but I have a giant project due, so I cannot make any promises. But cross your fingers! Also working on making these chapters much longer. Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Veronica Mars or any of the characters, Rob Thomas does. And currently he's not doing so great with them. Here's to a potential season five where everything is fixed.
The quiet rises like bleach in a windowless bathroom. It's suffocating, and her eyes burn from fighting back tears.
"You really don't believe me?"
"I know you want to find the answers, but honey, I'm telling you, if you become invested in this, you will never heal."
It's a reasonable request. Forget about it, move forward and shove it into that box of things others tell you to erase.
"Dad, I know what I heard. Why would Logan leave these messages? You think he did this for kicks?! Those mean something. And they're meant for me to figure out."
It's better to leave, than be at the end of his sympathetic gaze.
She stays in a hotel that night. And then the next three days.
It's on the second day, slumped on a white sheeted bed, the room service delivery her only human interaction, when she settles on returning.
The streets are the same, rich buildings with shiny new windows lining the shore. What brought any charm was replaced with dollar signs and pretty faces. But, it's still there. Empty, but existing. Painted a blue chosen from the unwanted paint at the hardware store down the street. A summer spent with blue freckles on her skin.
She parks across the street, stalling puts air in her lungs. The alley looks longer than she remembered. Staring, willing herself to keep on, she moves closer to the place where everything was taken. The street was clean, and she wasn't counting on finding anything. But then again, she's a better detective than most.
Looking towards the window she couldn't get to fast enough, she tries to visualize the moment it happened. What direction her car was facing, where the backpack was, where…he was. Explosions are never one directional, but they only go so far. Afterwards she refused to go back. Sent Wallace and her father to get her things. No use exposing herself to more misery. Bouncing back. Yeah right.
Sand had placed itself along the edge of the fence, even a street cleaner couldn't fight it. Even a day after it happened, the area would have looked much different. Standing where the car must have been, she walks straight to the fence. Moving her fingers through the warm sand she finds gum wrappers, bottle caps, and old receipts. Until her had clasps around a small object. A ring. It's scratched from months in the sand, but still perfectly round. Studying it, she can barely make out the inscription inside.
A sob tries to fight its way out of her throat.
"Epic"
It's in her car when she falls into the steering wheel.
They told her there was nothing left.
Either they missed it, or it was placed there.
Metal detector fisherman are always scouring Neptune's beaches, looking for anything to make a buck. Someone left this for her.
Lying in the freshly made hotel bed (she forgot the "Do not disturb" sign), she listens to the message. Rolling the ring between her fingers.
She doesn't want to be one of those girls (women?) who wears her dead husbands ring around her neck, so she keeps it safely in the inside pocket of her bag.
The same words she's heard behind blackout curtains play in the same sequence. Message. Pause. Inspirational quote. Pause. Inspirational quote. Until another click and his voice comes back.
"Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a little while. -The Princess Bride."
This one gives her hope. And if she has learned anything in the last year, hope is a dangerous thing.
Keith Mars knows grief. Delusion from clients that have come in with the same pleas. Sure that the person they love must be alive, because accepting they're gone is worse than losing their sanity.
His daughter isn't crazy. She's temporarily unrepairable.
Vulnerable to influences that have the potential to leave you broken. San Francisco was supposed to cleanse her. Bring her back to life.
Instead she found things she wasn't supposed to find. Not yet.
He had promised to keep her safe.
Fine job he was doing.
I'm sorry Maverick. She found them.
…..
What? I thought we were in the clear.
…..
We were. Until…
…..
What happened?
….
Jane.