"Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
Dylan Thomas
She was on fire. Burning up as the inferno consumed her. She didn't fight it; in fact she welcomed it—enjoyed it. It was a welcome change to the constant numbness that had seeped into her life.
It was something new, something different, and she'd be a damn fool to let it go.
It wasn't a describable fire. It wasn't one that exploded like passion or incited like rage. It wasn't simmering and steady like heartbreak or loss. It was just one that burned, pleasantly, illusively.
A million and a half things could've caused it. But it was the one thing she'd never expected that was keeping it alive, keeping it going.
Logan.
Their surreptitious kiss on the balcony of the Camelot had began it. One that said so much and so little in a span of mere seconds.
Pain, hurt, want, need, lust, thanks—all alluded to but never directly said.
Their second kiss was outside of his house. They'd just witnessed a fire that neither wanted to be a part of, but one of them had already been victim of. The fire of jealous and cold-blooded rage hidden behind a concerned father façade. The shock of that flame, combined with so much more had led to the intimacy of their next kiss.
It burned brightly, like magnesium in oxygen, continuing to burn when they had parted and were simply pressing their foreheads together, a gentle laugh shared between them.
It continued through secret meetings in bathrooms and in his father's house. There was nothing to extinguish it.
Nothing except themselves.
And Lilly.
And Duncan.
And million other things that mattered and didn't matter at the same time. It was slightly ironic. That they only thing that could damper their collective fire, was the muted fire of their grief. Their loss, their suffering. The fact that both of them had buried their hearts with Lilly Kane and their respective mothers, regardless of the fact that Lianne was still alive.
But what dampened also fueled. They wanted to survive it. Prove to themselves and others that nothing could bring them down. Nothing.
The muted fire gave birth to something new.
To them, together, Logan and Veronica.
Two different, yet strikingly similar people. Dancing an intricate, dangerous dance. Both afraid of being, yet wanting to be, burned, if only because it let them know they were still alive.
Their inner fires burned separate.
Logan's was one of loss, denial, and want. Loss of his first love, his mother, his childhood. Denial of abuse, and the loss of what he cared for. A wanting to be happy.
Veronica's was one of desperation, need, and healing. She desperately wanted to find her best friend's killer. She needed to know that everything could be made right again. She wanted to heal, to repair her broken heart—her heart that had been crushed by the loss of Duncan, Lilly and her mother all in a row. Healing from her rape.
Their joint fires exploded.
Sometimes she was fire and he was ice. Other times it was reversed. Or they were both fire and both ice. It was interchangeable. It was who they were.
Regardless of whom they were, what they did, they were burning. Burning up.
Raging. Silently and secretly, yet raging none the less and they were going to keep on burning, raging, fighting, loving until the dying of light and the falling of the curtain.
Until they'd consumed all the air.
This fire was out of control and neither of them was willing to put it out.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All characters belong to Rob Thomas, UPN, etc. I'm merely borrowing for a moment.
A/N: Please read & review. I'm curious as to whether or not this makes any sense as I wrote it about 2:00 am (I'm noticing a pattern, hmm). So please, drop me a line and tell me what you think. To all those who reviewed my previous story Fairy Tale: I love you all, thank you so much for reviewing, it means the world to mean and I'm making it my goal to look into any VM fiction you might write (or have written) & review it! Thanks!