Disclaimer: I don't own Veronica Mars. I'm in no way affiliated with anyone who actually is affiliated with anyone from Veronica Mars, although my friend Saskia did meet Jason Dohring at Marsathon, but still. He didn't give me his share of the show, so alas, I'm not involved. The following would totally happen if I were though.
Author's Note: Logan didn't erase the tapes. This is set after 2.10, but I realized that I couldn't have the plot line the way it is if he had, so he didn't do it.
"I knew there had to be a use for this stupid key," She mutters to herself while elbowing the heavy door slightly and stumbling into the suite. She's completely unprepared for its barrenness. Even though she can't see into Duncan's room, she knows he's gone. It's a crippling realization, that. He hadn't even said goodbye. Stupid, fucking-
"Typical Duncan." A voice mutters from behind her, and she blinks the tears out of her eyes as she turns to face him.
"What?" She asks, a startling combination of ice and fire in her voice. She's standing stiff and straight, her eyes, unblinking, staring straight into his. "Too bad he didn't tie up his loose ends? Forgot to get his key back from his whore-" She stars, her voice faltering as he grabs her arm.
"I've never called you a whore, Veronica." His voice is quiet, his gaze steady. There are no apologies in his eyes, no pity. For that, she's eternally grateful.
"It doesn't matter. You were right." Tears are pricking the corners of her eyes now, but she doesn't care. She's getting good and mad, as the weight of the past few days edges off her shoulders a little. "I mean, you called it, didn't you? You knew it wouldn't work out. They should pay you to be a psychic, Logan." Grabbing the arm of the couch to keep her balance, she slumps down into it, holding her head in her hands.
"So he's really gone, huh?" He asks, settling steadily next to her. She glances up at him, startled.
"You mean you didn't know? You live here, Logan." Her tone is cutting, but less so, and it rockets through him with only a dull ache.
"I uh…I haven't been in for a while." He mutters in response, breaking eye contact, yet still noting the shocked look in her eyes, which of course she shields immediately. She's waiting for him to look back at her, to own up to his indiscretions, but he doesn't. Let her think what she wants, the truth is much more pathetic.
"Great." She mutters under her breath, and he can feel the sigh reverberating through her. "So why are you here now?" Her breath is soft as it wisps around his face, and suddenly he realizes how very close she is.
"Happened to see you pull in, figured you wouldn't want to deal with…with this alone." This is the first real conversation they've had in months, she realizes, and she finds his presence oddly comforting-even though she knows she shouldn't.
"That was nice of you." She murmurs and after a moment she frowns, nodding. "Wait, of course. You came to gloat. Didn't you? But let me just tell you something, I really don't need your input about how you could've seen it coming, and how this is my fault because of what I-" Her voice cracks, and she's unable to finish, turning her head so he can't see the tears on her cheeks. He can finish for her anyway. Because of what I did to you.
"I was just opening the floor to Duncan bashing." There's a ghost of a smile on his lips, and she catches herself right before she smiles back. Feeling sorry for Logan Echolls is not in the repertoire for the evening, Veronica. Don't forget that. "I mean it isn't every day when you wake up to find your best friend missing-again. And his pesky little girlfriend sneaking through your hotel room." She glares over at him, daggers shooting from her eyes, but there's not malice in his voice-only the low ebb of gentle teasing, and a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
"Ex girlfriend." She whispers, her voice low and broken. "What, no 'I told you so's? No dancing around with a big sign, pointing fingers and proclaiming 'Veronica was wrong, I was right'? Because as much as I would hate you for it, you're pretty justified. He's gone. And he was in love with Meg the whole-" She stops again, the tears that she'd tried so carefully to hold in, catapulting down her cheeks. She cries noiselessly, but he's not surprised. Veronica Mars, the only girl in the world who doesn't want a comforting shoulder when she cries.
"Veronica, I-"
"Don't you dare tell me that you know how I feel." She snaps at him, her eyes fiery and wild, her tone cutting. Her tears have dried, suddenly, and she's surprised at how alive she feels and at the anger coursing through her. "Don't tell me that you understand, or that you care, or that it'll be Okay." She's standing on shaking legs now, her hands trembling with her fury. "Because it-"
"Dammit, Veronica, will you let me tell you I'm sorry?" Surprised she stares at him, looks deeply into his eyes and feels herself slipping again. Not good, Veronica. Not good.
"You're sorry?" Disbelief colors her voice, and she tilts her head as she looks at him, biting her lip.
"Yeah." He nods. Then reaches out, his fingers dropping to his side before he can touch her. "Hey, did you cut your hair?" He asks, changing the subject, and startled she looks down at her hair, touching it softly with her fingertips.
"My hair?" She asks, her voice losing some of its momentum-coming out in breathy bursts.
"The blonde thing that grows out of your head." He replies deadpan, and he can't help the shocked laugh that bursts out of her.
"Right. Uh, yeah. Last week. I got it trimmed." He nods, his chocolate brown eyes trained on hers.
"It looks nice."
"Um. Thank you?" She blinks at him, and he nods, swallowing to keep his laugh in. "I was mad a second ago." She muses, settling her back on the couch and staring straight ahead. It's easier when she's not looking at him.
"You were." He responds.
"You purposely changed the subject! You're not throwing me off, I'm still furious, Logan."
"Yeah, but at least you feel all pretty." She laughs again, and soon she's laughing so hard that tears are spilling down her cheeks. And somehow, at the end of it all, she finds herself resting her head on his chest, and finally letting her tears fall freely.
XXXX
Her neck is killing her. She shifts slightly, moving to stretch when she feels a hand on her thigh.
"You're awake." His voice is soft and she shivers as his breath hits her skin. Goose bumps explode on her arms.
"I-uh, yeah. Awake." She rubs her eyes, trying to accustom them to the dark, but she can't seem to focus as she realizes that the entire length of his body is pressed against hers.
"Want some tea?" He asks, sitting up, and for a second, she doesn't want him to move. Doesn't want to deal with the loss of contact.
"Please." She mutters, craning her neck to look at him as he makes his way to the make shift kitchen, flipping the light switch as he passes it. "Since when do you know how to make tea?" She asks, settling more comfortably on the couch and watching as he moves confidently through the kitchenette.
"I've always known how to make tea." He answers, leaning against the counter, waiting for the water to boil. "I make a mean Mac & Cheese too, but that isn't a delicacy for the masses." He glances back at her and winks, sending heat coursing through her.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" She asks, and after a long minute he turns to look at her, shrugging.
"Someone had to be." He responds, capturing her eyes with his and breaking contact only when the tea is ready. "Milk and lime, right?" He asks, glancing back at her. She blinks at him, a slight smile spreading across her lips. He grins to himself.
"You remembered how I take my tea?" She calls out, cringing at the catch in her voice.
"It's a strange combination." He responds, turning to face her finally, and settling the mug on the table in front of her. Taking a sip of tea, she glances down at her watch, cringing.
"I can get you something else, if you want." He's halfway up before her fingers close around his wrist. It's his turn for goose bumps.
"It's not the tea. I just didn't realize how late it was. My dad has probably called the National Guard." At the mention of her father, her cell phone begins to ring, vibrating wildly in her backpack.
"GPS tracker in your cell phone, I would say." He teases, watching her closely as she fishes the phone out of her bag, flipping it open.
"Hi, Daddy." She murmurs, turning away from him and twisting a lock of hair around her finger. "I'm sorry I haven't called. I'm at-" She pauses, and he strains his ears to hear what exactly Keith Mars is telling his daughter. "He's gone, Dad." She whispers, and he can hear how broken her voice is. "Yeah, I'll be home soon. I'm leaving right now." After a moment she clicks off her phone and turns to face him.
"That was my dad."
"I figured."
"I should go."
"Or he really will call the National Guard."
"Something like that." She stands, brushing her hands over the legs of her pants, looking down at him. "Thanks for the tea." She smiles wanly, but it really reaches her eyes this time.
"No problem. Although it was quite a burden, finding a fresh lime to squeeze." There's a teasing note in his voice, and she can't help but laughing. "You're gonna have to figure out some way to-" Her lips brushing against his cut him off. It's barely anything, barely a whisper against his skin, yet he feels it down to his toes.
"Thank you. For everything. Really." She's looking down at her hands, her bottom lip trembling. He's not saying anything, only looking at her with an intensity she finds disarming. "God, you must think I'm really a whore now, right? I mean, Duncan isn't even gone 5 minutes and I'm already jumping on you? God I-"
"Veronica."
"-And to think, I mean, I don't even like you. I shouldn't have-"
"Veronica."
"What?"
"Don't worry about the tea."
"The tea?"
"Yeah, repaying me for the tea. Don't worry about it."
"It wasn't high up on my things to worry about list, but it'll knock it down a peg, just because."
"Thank you. I really appreciate that." Flustered, she turns to leave, the brass knob, cool against her skin.
"Oh and Veronica?"
"Yeah?"
"I never thought you were a whore."
Fin.