She dreams in shades of Echolls'. First, dark ugly purples and reds, bruises and blood – Aaron, in his element. Then Lynn, clean white and innocent influxed, then consumed, with hues of amber. Her deliverance and demise coursing through like wildfire. The fire peters out, gives way to green and brown, a primitive wilderness in obscurity bespattered in new growth – her very own work-in-progress. She thinks she smiles then, but it's hard to tell. Logan has always been an enigma in her life, even before Lilly died.
Her father's voice is jarring, spinning her from her dream into an almost-conscious state that leaves her mildly confused. A groan, and then her hand is reaching out to unceremoniously shove Backup off from his perch at her feet. Backup wags his tail hopefully from his stance on the floor, and she grimaces. "Yeah, yeah," she grumbles as she sits up, bleary-eyed. "Just give me five minutes, and then we'll talk leashes."
Sweats and a tank-top later, Veronica and Backup make their way to the beach. She prays for a short walk, but Backup has other plans as he chases after a low-flying kite and nearly jerks the leash out of her hands. By the time they make it back, she's sweating and just a stone's throw away from starvation. She nearly drops down to her knees in gratitude when the unmistakable smell of breakfast wafts through her open kitchen window.
Keith is overly-enthusiastic as always, singing badly as he flips slightly burned pancakes while sipping cautiously at the coffee in his other hand. That's her dad – mediocre multi-tasker, and she smiles a little at him. Glad to see him happy.
"Are those flapjacks or Frisbees? 'Cause I'm starting to wonder if I'm getting the proper nutritional sustenance."
He smiles at her warmly from his helm at the stove. "This from Dessert-for-Dinner girl. I'm shocked, I tell ya." He side-eyes her cautiously, tilts his head to the side. "So … how've you been feeling lately?"
"Well, for starters, I've been a little concerned about your propensity for all things flammable," she remarks mildly, jerking her head towards the stove almost as an afterthought. Keith stares at her blankly before yelping, rushing the burning pot holder into the sink. The pot holder puts up a brave front, but eventually fizzles out once combated with a steady stream of water.
"Not funny," he frowns at her grin.
"Oh, I don't know," she disagrees, getting up to dispose of the pot holder. "I'm pretty sure it was."
Keith glares at his daughter, but can't keep up the front. He makes a show of moving every knick knack in the vicinity of the open flame to the other side of the kitchen and then finishes up with the pancakes, dividing them between two plates. "Alicia called. Said Wallace would be over in a bit," he remarks conversationally. "You guys doing anything tonight?"
"Nothing special." She regards him carefully, trying to keep her tone even and inconspicuous. "So … when were you going to tell me Logan Echolls was in a foster home?" Keith freezes for a moment, spatula midway between plate and pan. "And before you tell me you had no idea, please remember that I am in possession of an I.Q. higher than 65."
Keith finishes with the dividing and brings the plates over to the table, gently setting one down in front of her. "I wasn't intentionally not-telling you, if that's what you're asking. I just figured you had enough on your mind and that you didn't want, or need, to know."
"See, now that's kind of the definition of intentional." She remarks, but there's no bite behind her words. She spears a piece of pancake with gusto and pops it into her mouth.
"How'd you find out anyway? Press finally catch up?"
She shakes her head. "No. I saw him. Last week."
Keith sets down his fork and bites his lower lip uncomfortably. "Veronica, you aren't thinking of … starting something up with him again. Are you?"
"No." She does her best impersonation of convincing and falls a little flat. "I was just concerned, is all."
Keith meets her eyes, seems to be looking for something. After a few moments, he nods and picks his fork up again. "Okay. Just checking. Because, honestly, honey, I really don't think you should be seeing him. Even though he turned out to be innocent in all this, that doesn't mean he's right for you. After all he's been through … well, let's just say I'd be surprised if he comes out of it without any permanent damage."
Veronica nods, but keeps her eyes on her pancakes. It's never been her style to make her dad worry, and she sure as hell isn't planning on starting now. Especially considering she's still clueless to her own feelings on the subject. So she eats the remainder of her breakfast in silence, flashing reassuring smiles up at her dad whenever she feels his eyes on her, until he ultimately scrapes back his chair and starts getting ready for work.
Wallace arrives as she's closing the door on her dad, revved from shooting hoops in the park downtown. She curls up on the couch with a cup of coffee, sipping in-between play-by-play re-enactments, smiling warmly at his enthusiasm. Even if it is just the slightest bit irritating at 9 a.m. What surprises her most is how much she likes that, though. Sitting in her comfy clothes on the couch with her best friend, bed-headed and worry-free. She likes basketball because he likes basketball, and maybe she's been learning all of this a little late, but she knows now that there is life after Lilly. Friends that can never be the same or completely take her place, but, for whatever reason, fill up another part of her. A part previously empty, and now, blessedly full.
Basketball anecdote over, Wallace curves the conversation to more serious matters, joining her on the sofa as she tickers away on her laptop. They talk about the upcoming testimony, how she feels about being in the same room with Aaron, and she skirts around the issue a bit because she doesn't need to tell him that part of her is terrified – he already knows. He offers to come with her the next day, and she smiles and declines. There are only so many parts of her life she wants to drag him into, and re-living one of the worst days of said-life is not one of them.
Wallace accepts this in stride, initiating small talk like it's going out of style until he happens to lean over her shoulder and catch sight of her screen. "Trina Echolls!" He exclaims, and she cringes but doesn't reply, choosing instead to print out the most recent credit card transactions. "Why in the hell are you tracking her?"
Veronica snaps her laptop closed and looks at him pointedly. "Because right now, Logan's in foster care while his sister," she practically spits the word out, "is apparently sipping Mimosas on some private beach in Mexico." She gets up to retrieve the print-out from the other room before he can respond, an inward sigh already on its way.
Wallace is surprisingly quiet when she comes back into the room, chewing absently on the end of a pen. He retains his silence even as she sits down next to him, bumps him comradelier-like with her shoulder. Finally, she gives up altogether, sighs dramatically, and nudges him with her elbow. "Okay. Spill it."
He takes a moment to look at her before putting his head in his hands and groaning. "This is a bad idea."
The fact that she had been thinking the same thing about a million times throughout the last week does nothing to deter her course of action. "Someone has to do something. She needs to come back and deal with this. Just like the rest of us have to."
Wallace eyes her suspiciously. "Why does it have to be you that does something about it? I mean, I get that you feel guilty, but bringing Trina back isn't going to help with that any." He takes one of her hands in his and squeezes. "You should just let it be."
Veronica closes her eyes and gently detaches from him. "I can't." And she knows that a big part of the reason why just might be guilt, but there's something else driving her. She takes a deep breath and puts a hand on his arm. "I know what I'm doing," she says solemnly, eyes on his. And she wants to believe it, believe that she knows this is good. But right now, she'd settle for Wallace believing her.
Wallace smiles faintly, and she feels naked before him, like he can see everything she's thinking and feeling better than she can. And maybe he can; she's so new at this best friend thing - the year and a half loss of Lilly seems to have had more than a few repercussions. But then he's talking, and she's relieved, because that means he isn't scrutinizing her anymore.
"Then you do what you need to do," he says tiredly, getting up and stepping towards the front door. "He wasn't good for you," he says quietly, turning to face her. She is slow to meet his eyes, and he doesn't miss it. "He still isn't."
Veronica takes a moment to let that sink in before nodding, replying softly and a little belatedly, "I know."
Logan spends the evening gallivanting among the dregs of society, a bunch of rebels-without-a-clue he met through his weekly therapist appointment. The waiting room is often filled with such shining prospects, but it's only been recently that he's felt inclined to acknowledge their existence. Or, more to the point, their extensive collection of mind-numbing narcotics. They think it's cool to be hanging out with a pseudo-celebrity, and he mostly thinks they're a bunch of morons. But, it still beats staring at the ceiling and listening to the exciting adventures of his very own Brady Bunch, so he takes Jack's call and agrees to meet up later at the park.
It's not long into the evening when they break out the good stuff - E and acid. "Candyflipping for everyone!" Jack bellows, and Logan wants to roll his eyes. He feels a momentary twinge at the remembrance of the last time he had been mixed up with similar types of drugs, but it doesn't last long, so he takes his pleasure with a little help from his trusty flask.
Pretty soon, they're flying down the street in Jack's Durango, windows open and whooping it up like they've just accomplished the impossible. Although, maybe they have, seeing as Jack is still managing to stay between the lines despite all the various objects he claims are headed "straight for us!" It's then that Logan realizes he never really liked acid, and wishes he had just stuck to the ecstasy.
"So … what's it like to be Aaron Echolls' son?" Trey murmurs almost incomprehensively as they're stuck at a Jack-in-the-Box drive-thru. Apparently, the unspoken agreement to never talk about personal shit has been revoked. Logan briefly considers punching the guy, but then figures it's not worth the effort.
"Why? You want my life, pal?" He smirks, and for a moment, Trey looks as if he's considering the options. Unbelievable. "Is that why you guys want to hang?" He addresses the entire car. "Think you're gonna find something out you can't already read in the papers?"
"Hey, man. Be cool," Jack nonchalantly instructs from the front, lazy gaze in the rearview mirror. "He didn't mean anything by it. Right, Trey?"
Trey holds his hands up in surrender. "Nah. Just forget I said anything."
Logan spends the next few minutes staring Trey down before giving up and retreating to his side of the car. The way he goes through friends, he figures he should wait at least a couple of weeks before totally alienating them. Besides, the glass of the window feels cool against his head, and the silence, for once, is inviting.
The drugs are starting to fuck with his perception of time – it feels like they've been driving through the streets of Neptune for hours, and then, only minutes. The signs out of his window blur together like a DMV vision test at 40 feet, and pretty soon, he's lost track of where they are. It's not altogether bad, though. There's a certain sense of freedom on the open road. Endless possibilities and all that shit. His mind wanders to a road trip to Vegas he had once taken with Lilly, the memory bright and not unlike a punch to the gut. They had been 15 and flying, maneuvering one of his father's cars through the desert freeway maniacally, newly purchased fake IDs grasped in nervous hands. Lilly had been somewhat innocent back then, grip firm on the dashboard every time he took a turn too fast, her laugh amused but unsure. He remembers her teasing smile, that one that got him every time, coy and so. Fucking. Real. It hadn't been long before he'd had to make an emergency pit stop in Bakersfield just so he could get his hands on her. He had her panties down to her knees, her warm breath in his ear, and his fingers inside her when the cop had knocked on the window, looking much like he'd rather be anywhere but there. And Lilly had just laughed …
He can't help but wonder, even now – when did it really start? That night his father berated the two of them for stealing his precious Mercedes – did his eyes linger a little too long on Lilly? How far back did it go? The thought of them together leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and he's grateful he hadn't had a chance to view the infamous "tapes" before they had been sent to evidence. Because he knows some sick twisted part of him would have succumbed to the curiosity, would have needed to see them. And all he can think now is I hate her, I love her, I hate her …
Unexpected grief takes hold of him like a vice, and a startled gasp is out before he can do anything about it. He takes a drink and staves off the worst of it, wearily closing his eyes as he leans against the window. But then his stomach lurches repulsively, his eyes flying open as he attempts to keep the roller-coaster ride sensation at bay. A few more deep breaths, and he's relatively sure he's not going to hurl.
"You okay, man?" Jack disembodied voice floats from the front.
Logan nods mutely, and suddenly the need to be anywhere but that car is overwhelming. "Hey, Jack," he says, leaning forward just a little. "Make a right at the next light."
"Holy shit, Echolls. Is this really it?" Trey chirps as he hops out of the car, glazed eyes lit up in fascination.
Logan smiles sardonically as he pulls a set of keys out from his pocket. "The one and only." He pauses before slipping the key into the wrought iron gate, then frowns in confusion. What the fuck?
"What's up?" Jack asks, trying to peer over his shoulder.
"Nothing," Logan says distractedly. "It's just … let me check something out first. You guys stay here." He pushes the gate open cautiously, glances at the camera out of habit before sauntering through. It's been two months since he's set foot inside these gates, and he's more than a little unsettled. He nervously lopes up to the front door, approaches it cautiously and absently fingers his key. Experimentally, he jiggles the handle of the front door, and sure enough, it opens freely. He's starting to think he should have brought something more substantial than his flask to defend himself, but hindsight has a way of pissing him off, so he ignores the impulse to flee and slowly swings open the door all the way.
Almost immediately, he's blinded by something bright, and he finds himself swinging out reflexively. His hand grazes the side of … something, and then the light's gone. "Dude, did you ever pick the wrong house to mess with," he mutters as he tries to focus his eyes to the dark around him.
An intake of breath to his left, and then nothing. Until – "Logan?"
He freezes, recognition and confusion hitting him upside the head. And then the flashlight's back on, this time aimed somewhere other than his eyes. "Veronica! What the hell?"
She has the decency to look chagrined, but then shrugs. "Um … have you seen my topaz dangly earring? Because I think the last place I saw it was-"
"What the hell are you doing here?" he interrupts, grabbing the flashlight away from her and shining it on her. "And how the hell did you get in?"
She rolls her eyes dramatically, and suddenly he's reminded of old times. "Please. You think I haven't picked up a few breaking and entering tips after all this time working with my dad? I could pick a lock in my sleep at this point."
Logan shakes his head, small smile twitching the corners of his mouth despite himself. "Jesus. You're insane, you know that?"
"I was under the impression that was part of my charm," she smiles easily, taking a deep breath.
The sound of squealing rubber reverberates through the house, and Logan's just about to investigate when he hears it in the distance – a fast-approaching siren. He groans and turns to Veronica. "Did your Daddy ever teach you to turn of a silent alarm? Cause that might have been useful to learn before you decided to break in."
...tbc...