(Claire De Lune - Skipping Stone)
Neptune will screw you over before it ever sets you free. It was a truth too many residents of the popular tourist beach town knew but one that you didn't get to see on the shiny brochures posted to most of SoCal. Veronica had learned too painfully long ago that there was more to this town beneath the glittering parties and expensive boutiques. Her father might be Sheriff again, but that baptism by fire had left scars and an understanding of Neptune's dark underworld that could never be unseen. That, it seemed, reinforced the cruelty of the world, the irrelevance of her grief.
Veronica was furious at how little control there was over life and death, things went sideways and she turned her rage outward. The reality of this hellhole had sunk its fangs into the back of her neck, determined to never let go.
Grief was isolating, but she wasn't alone.
Inhaling, Veronica savoured his familiar scent, citrus, the ocean and soap, and something uniquely him that she yearned for on the nights she stayed at home. She curled her fingers around Logan's waist and nestled closer to his chest; he was still asleep. His warmth comforted and soothed her soul. This whole week felt as if she were lost in some strange dream, unable to wake up.
Last night they had lost themselves, two bodies searching for something more.
She was lying in the nook of his arm, he offered, "Do you want me to get up?"
"Sure thing, Dollface, who else is gonna venture out into that rattrap world of glamourous speakeasies, crime and bring me a breakfast muffin?" Veronica joked like a whiskey-soaked detective from an oldies Noir, reaching her hand down to playfully squeeze his ass.
"I could add in a call to room service for caffeine too, Sugarpuss but that plan may fail if you keep… grabbing my… fuck…" Logan gasped in a voice still husky from sleep as Veronica teasingly ran her fingers along his length and kissed his neck.
"You asked if I wanted you…" she whispered as he cupped her face, brushing blond strands from her forehead.
"You always want me," he corrected, tenderly kissing her forehead and shifting his hips away so he was sitting on the edge of the bed.
"C'mon, Echolls, the damsel is in distress…" she pouted, and he heard the ruffling of sheets. Her throat closed up on the last few words. Slender arms circling around his neck, pulling him tight against her chest, hugging him close. It was an unusual moment of open despair and he tugged her onto his lap, holding her tightly.
She'd have to find a way to keep her busy, so she could stop climbing the walls.
Life rarely moved in such a straight line, the knowledge that accepting being with Logan was still pre-emptively grieving.
It wasn't just that the world felt safer with him—it also made more sense. They had spoken little about Sheriff Lamb's funeral yesterday, or that Weevil was being buried in a few hours. That Dick, the often times obnoxious third wheel in their evenings of trash tv watching catty socialites hurl insults and overturn tables was recovering from surgery.
It was a reminder of how little time was left.
"I never did ride shot-gun in a sidecar," Logan murmured, pressing soft kisses along her shoulder while she broke off another piece of sweet bread topped with jam.
Room service hadn't taken long, and he was fresh from the shower. His gaze flickering over to the small clock on his nightstand. He'd promised to check in with Dick this morning, and she would likely call her father for updates on the latest case.
"I don't think you could pull off the Pablo Escobar moustache," Veronica sniffled.
Logan chuckled softly. "Obviously you've been thinking about this for some time. Darn, now what will I do with all those stocks in beard oil?"
"Oiling you up… now there's an idea," Veronica quipped, her cheeks flushing. Even after all this time, admitting how much she craved Logan made her blush like a tenth grader. Their morning banter was playful but the grim burden of the day waited for no one as she watched him pull out the familiar suit he had worn to Meg Manning's funeral during senior year.
Time was irreversible, it marched onwards, and it didn't care about your grief. The laws of nature and Neptune made sorrow inherent to the human condition.
"How's the beat?" Veronica asked her father.
"Inga keeps trying to sign me up to geriatric jazzercise," Sheriff Mars sighed.
"Well, the Grim Reefer says the only cure to growing old is swollen joints," she mused.
"Did this Grim Reefer happen to give you a list of his contacts? The way things are going down at the Commissioners halls of Justice, I'm going to have to pull in some big wins to close cases," the older Mars said wearily. Feeling the weight of assuming command when you were at the losing end of a never ending war took its toll.
The online Twitter hashtags, memes and media speculation about the future of Neptune's Sheriff Department being in question had been trending since the discovery of a young woman in a dumpster just outside a popular 09er country club. Under the scrutiny of the newly elected Mayor Harden Yates, and gun safety on Campus, and protests being organized at the press conference to discuss the detention of both legal and illegal citizens arrested during an ICE raid on a nearby warehouse.
"Have you been home?" she asked gently.
Her father would not be able to attend Weevil's funeral. He sounded like he wanted to say something, but the heavy silence communicated more than they could ever express with words. Wallace wasn't going to be at the funeral either, opting to spend time with Mac this morning after basketball practise dealing with Hearst administration.
"Not yet, it doesn't look like I am going to get away from the office anytime soon. Can you check on Backup?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'll stop by before…" Veronica said quietly.
Morale in the Mars family was taking a beating today. Her latest text from Weevil's older sister stated that services were going to be held at the graveside due to tensions between PCHers and the Fitzpatricks camped outside St Marys.
Church- the only place the Micks and the Spics supposedly could hang out without someone getting punched.
"Dude, I am all about the Aness," Dick declared as Logan regretted his choice to use loudspeaker while waiting for Veronica to return from her apartment. He'd wanted to go with her, but she insisted on having some time alone to change.
"What kind of pain medication do they have you on?" Logan winced. Proximity to the biker gang still made him nervous, he never had found out who else had been playing Russian roulette with his fingers.
He knew better than to dismiss them like some tellanovella B movie villains.
"The yellow kind?"Dick shrugged. "Whatever it is, Pretty Little Liars just got a whole lot more enjoyable."
"Uh-huh" Logan said scrubbing a hand down his face. As if of their own volition his eyes began to sting with unshed tears and he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. Dick would be teasing him mercilessly for getting choked up and sentimental, but half an inch to the left and this conversation would not have been happening.
He could admit that thought haunted him in quiet moments like this.
It was uncomfortable knowing that some part of Veronica's heart would always be tethered to Eli Navarro.
Some people like Dick and Weevil just had a presence that would never fade away.
The jury was still out on their current state of affairs, but at least he could still draw breath to have those arguments, especially as Dick seemed determined to behave drunk and blindfolded into making all the wrong decisions.
The short drive to Neptune Grace Memorial Gardens didn't take long from her apartment, not too many rich 09ers liked the idea of living close to a graveyard, even if there were signs and flyers for petitions against real estate developers wanting to reclaim the older cemeteries.
They obviously hadn't watched any of the Poltergeist franchise.
09ers didn't get buried here, like the whole of Neptune would ignite on contact. They had own private gated family plots and mausoleums known as The Vault on a sunny hill overlooking the town, so that even in the afterlife they could still look down on the rest of Neptune.
This side of Neptune, even a millionaire bad boy playing fast and loose with their own life knew that their prestigious wealth wouldn't protect them from the real sharks.
Grief was like a virulent fever in her blood. There was nothing but pure physical need for Logan's arms around her. He watched as her slim throat rose and fell over a swallow. Veronica swept her gaze over the familiar tombstones.
Weevil didnt deserve this. Not here. Not in this place devoid of color on the poorest side of Neptune.
El cementerio de los demonios. Declared graffiti not too far from the grounds keeper building just near the rear exit.
The Devils Boneyard.
"I'm not ready," she choked, her bottom lip trembling as he lifted her chin to look at him. Her beautiful blue eyes like lakes of shimmering liquid. Logan pulled her close, lips brushing the top of her head in a gentle kiss, looking out at the same crowd gathered, at Weevils grandmother Letty and her eldest daughter, and her two children. Veronica knew Logan must have felt conflicted attending his old housekeepers grandsons funeral. She was frailer now, and the small portable oxygen tank she sitting beside her, wrote volumes of her poor health.
Neither was he.
No matter how fast you were, could outrun their past.
He held out his hand to her in a familiar gesture, the same way he had the night his father threw the surprise party. The one that told her they were in this together.
Lead the way...
Sliding her hand into his, she squeezed his fingers tightly.
It's about the village you live in.
There was none of the fanfare, or highborn residents that had been attended Sheriff Lambs funeral here today, no press, no cameras. Just a few representatives from Hearst faculty, the student council and a few of the janitors and Weevils family. His probation officer. Its strange how easy it is to tell our stories to a strangers eyes. There were several members of the PCHers motorcycle club standing nearby but the mourners seemed to instinctively cling to their own clearly marked boundaries as if some unspoken balance depended on it.
Neptune really was Gotham Lite, to say it was ugly, was like saying a cemetery was quiet.
Veronica had offered to collect the rest of Weevil's things and deliver them to the shared residential building Letty now shared with her daughter. The student council had organised a GoFundMe page to help with some of the funeral costs, but a lot of the enthusiasm had died down once protests began circling about 'rewarding' Ex-cons. The small victory was that Principal Clemmons had convinced the school board to grant Eli Navarro his diploma, even if it was posthumously.
"A young life, tragically cut short will have even the strongest and pragmatic amongst us blindsided. We attach so much value to empty words, and vacant promises but it is our actions that make us who we are. That show the world what we stand for, and how we lived," Father Doherty began. Veronica bit on her lower lip, choking back tears when she noticed Valentina standing still and quiet clutching a teddy bear that she recognised Weevil had won for her at the Senior Fundraising Carnival. Logans gentle brown eyes put her at ease, reminding her that it was okay, this anguish wasn't a scar she had to worry about wearing on her face.
It was just a part of the process, and they all had them, they all felt something in their world shifting. Each expression was telling some version of their own story.
"Eli Navarro, was a teddy bear in combat boots and a leather jacket. He had a complicated and tangled up past but when he saw fragile, broken things, he saw the familiar, and he acted to protect those that he loved. He was an honourable man, and that is who we have come to bid fairwell to today. For those of you who are grieving, I say this. The ground doesn't feel that solid right now, but it will. In time you will realise that this loss, is merely to bring us to a new level of understanding of our place, and of God." Father Doherty said handing over a small bible to Weevils older sister.
"The Devil takes care of his own, the rest is confetti" a young PCHer snarled as the preacher made a hasty exit from the funeral grounds.
No one could accuse the PCHers of sending their recruits to Charm School.
It was then that Hector stepped forwards. "I know grief, we all do. We've said goodbyes to more brothers in this dirt than that man has ever risked treading under his shoe. We know loss. Time reveals all truths, and Weevil knew better than most that life goes on with or without you." He said passionately. "Time changes things but not this. Here… we are all the same. Brothers. Sleep in peace, Eli Navarro, while we continue our fight in the messiness of this broken world. You will not be forgotten."
Vows and Leaving...
Weevil was laid to ground beside Felix Toombs. The truth about them had always been a sad tale, mere pawns in a twisted game of chess. They had been a team, grown up together, and now they would rest side by side.
The younger PCHers stepped forwards and a girl Logan recognised from high school stepped forward as well but he couldn't recall her name. They began a slow mashup of alternating versus Young and Free by Dermott Kennedy and Sarah Blaines - Never get to Heaven.
"No Six Feets ever going to be enough to bury me…. We were young and we were free…. But like I told you already darling, I don't want you looking back at the ghosts left behind" and finally the song progressed with a third girl joining the chorus from Emma Steinbakken – Not Gonna Cry. "I know its not supposed to be easy... pouring out the bottle of feelings... Neptune all the grenades you threw... they just made me bulletproof... OH when I'm gone... a heart was never meant for this... and if I never get to heaven... we were young... will you carry me... we were freee yeah yeah… I'm not gonna cry for you...as long as I am on your shoulders.. we'll be standing when the world is over... hold each other for the nice, because baby we were bound to burn... and if I never get to heaven... I'm not gonna cry for you... do you think I'll still be free?"
"Brave of you to be on the Shadow Side, Rucio" a tall PCHer growled in their direction, and Hector stepped forwards to the pixie-sized sleuth and Logan tensed beside her.
"That's how the west was won," Veronica quipped.
"Callate Miguel. You always took time out snooping which 09er asshole was playing pin the secretary to the wall to show up for him when no one else would, so I'll save you the gritty research Ms Plum," Hector said solemnly. "I'll talk to you, and only you. So don't bother sending no deputies. It was Chardo."
"What was Chardo?" Logan asked.
"He's the one who pulled the strings that got Caitlin Ford put in that dumpster."
