This was no fairy tale.
Perhaps in some misconstrued, alternate universe it was. In that universe Logan Echolls was the prince on the gleaming white horse and she, Veronica Mars, was the lowly scullery maid. But that is basing it purely on socioeconomic status. If the social stratum of this fairy tale land was determined by morality, then Veronica would be the beautiful, beloved princess, and Logan would be the village idiot.
Correction, he would be the village psychotic jackass.
But this wasn't a fairy tale. It was the polar opposite of a fairy tale. This story would certainly not be told to children at bedtime or be the cause of the little girls playing make believe. Because in fairy tales, there was no tragedy. No flaws, no arguments, no heartbreak, and certainly no clandestine kisses with one's mortal enemy. Those things just didn't happen. Of this Veronica was certain.
But still the kiss had had happened and in the grand scheme of things, Veronica wasn't entirely convinced that it had been a horrible mistake—an incident that should never, ever be discussed or brought to light. As much as she had tried to convince herself otherwise, she'd liked the kiss, enjoyed the way it made her whole body tingle, from head to foot, the way it made her forget, for just that one moment, everything that was wrong with her life.
The way it made her feel safe. Made her feel whole again.
But reality soon came crashing down on her and she realized (with something the logical part of her brain called horror) that the person who made her feel again, because in all honesty what she'd been doing for the past year could hardly be called feeling, was in fact Logan Echolls, the same boy who had made it his life's purpose to torment her. To blame her for something that she didn't do.
It was so incredibly wrong, yet at the same time, so sickeningly right. Perhaps it took two broken people to make each other whole.
Maybe she held some of the blame for her own confusion and inner conflict. When she'd kissed him after coming out of Ben's room, she'd momentarily forgotten that Logan was not a white knight. She'd wanted to thank him. Repay him for what he'd done, or at least attempted to do. It'd seemed only fair that the damsel thank her rescuer.
But what had happened afterward had changed everything. Or maybe it hadn't changed anything, just made what was there to begin with more noticeable.
Perhaps it was a fairy tale.
Perhaps the prince had come to rescue the scullery maid in distress. Or the psychotic jackass swallowed his pride and saved the princess.
Maybe the truth was that neither was better than the other was. Maybe the prince had been too busy taking a nap between dragon slayings or getting together with a princess to notice the scullery maid's cries. Maybe the psychotic jackass had heard them, stolen the prince's white horse and ridden to the scullery maid's rescue. Perhaps that was the fairy tale. The tale of one outcast saving another—regardless of how different they may be.
That was the kind of fairy tale it was. An unusual one for two unusual people—both broken, both looking to be made whole.
But then again, it wasn't a fairy tale at all.
A/N: This is my first Veronica Mars fic & I'm kind of insecure about it, so drop me a line & tell me what you think. Please no flames (those serve no purpose), but constructive criticism is always welcome. Thanks for reading!
