Veronica

My spontaneous nap did me well. Logan and I really didn't mean to fall asleep, but it was so cozy with him in my old bed, that it just happened. When we awoke, he decided to have a shower, but I needed more coffee. After showing him where the towels were and how you had to adjust the hot water tap just-so or you would get scalded, I left him in my old bathroom with a quick peck on the lips.

Alone in my room, I reach deep into the closet and grab the pink unicorn t-shirt from where I left it and toss my dingy travel outfit onto the ground. Grabbing a fresh pair of jeans, I pull them on, along with the t-shirt, ready to take on the rest of the day. I can still smell the coffee as I pad through the empty living room, following its glorious scent. Fresh coffee beans was a little splurge my mother insisted on. After several months of gross vacuum sealed grounds, I can now see why.

My mom is sitting at the kitchen table, papers spread in front of her, a coffee cup near her hand. Her long hair drapes down the back of the chair, and for a second I remember how much we used to look like one another, when my hair was the same. She turns to me and smiles, moving her chair back so she can see me.

"Oh! You're both awake!"

"How did you know we were asleep?"

"We heard Logan snoring through the door." My mother giggles and I blush.

Heading for the big coffee pot, I turn my back to Mom and grab a cup from the drying rack near the sink, giving it a quick shake to get the water out before pouring the coffee in.

"He does that sometimes. I've gotten used to it."

"Well, we didn't want to disturb you both. I wasn't sure how much sleep you got on the plane."

Shaking my head, I bring the hot mug to my lips and take a tentative sip. Still too hot. Damn.

"We didn't get much sleep at all. But I was so excited to be home that I think I forgot." Wandering back to the table, I look across at the papers and frown. "What's all this?"

Mom takes a long, slow breath and begins to pull the papers into a pile. "This is my homework. I'm taking some career retraining so I can work at the bank as a teller."

"That's great, Mom!" I slide into my seat across from her, watching as she slips the papers into a plastic folder and puts them aside. "I'm glad you're finding something else to do with your time, now that I'm gone."

"I am, Veronica. It's been hard, but I'm trying."

I'm trying.

I know what she's saying. It isn't just about her career, it's about her drinking as well. She cradles her coffee mug, her focus dropping down to its contents. For a moment, we sit in awkward silence, and I honestly don't know how to respond. It seems strange right now, how Logan and I could have found a short-hand, a comfort level with each other to discuss anything and everything, and yet with my mother, I'm at a loss for words.

"Veronica…I…I'm sorry. For everything."

My breath hitches in shock. I guess we're doing this. Right here. Right now. My eyes dart to the doorway and I hope that Logan takes a very long time in the shower, because some things needed to be said, by not only by my mother, but by me as well.

Stomach tightening, I steady myself, preparing for her words. She doesn't raise her gaze from her cup, and I know it's hard for her, but a small part of me wants it to be hard. Wants her to have to work for it, to make everything right again. Even though it probably was never right to begin with.

"I want you to know, I'm seeing a counsellor for my drinking problem," she continues slowly, methodically. "The doctor doesn't feel that I need to be admitted to a treatment centre, yet, but they are monitoring my progress." Mom pushes her mug away and finally looks me in the eyes. "I talk to a counsellor twice a day by phone—once in the morning and then once in the evening. She checks in, and we discuss when I feel I needed a drink during the day, what triggered my craving, and how I handled it."

I nod, giving her some little form of encouragement. It's as much as I can manage right now.

"Last night, when we talked, I told her you were coming home, and she counseled me on the importance of making amends to you for my behaviour."

"You mean how you gaslit me all through my childhood?" The words come out fast and sharp. It would seem that any goodwill I felt this morning, in the presence of breakfast, was long gone.

Mom's deep blue eyes go wide in shock for a moment, her lip trembles, as if she's about to burst into tears, but she quickly composes herself, clearing her throat and tossing her long, white-blond hair over her shoulder.

"Yes. Well. That. I always forget that your generation knows all the counselling lingo from school."

I can't hold back the snort of ironic laughter that rises from me and I cross my arms over my chest, leaning back a bit in my chair.

"We do. Because at school, we were taught to try and deal with our problems. How to talk with our friends and partners. Life Skills 101. Sexual Health 201. Too bad at home, my mother had me convinced that if I dealt with the problem, she would go away forever."

Emotion bubbles in my chest and tears begin to prick at my eyes. I blink them back quickly, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing me upset. She doesn't get my emotion anymore. I won't give it to her to manipulate again.

"Veronica, I was scared…."

"You were scared?" I spit back, rolling my eyes. "I was a child! You had me convinced that if I told anyone about your drinking that you would be sent away! I was terrified I would lose you!"

"I know and…"

Pushing my chair back with a screech, I stand and pace away from her, towards the back door. Escape. My first instinct is to run. Run away from this conversation, run away from the memories now tweaking my brain, run away from it all.

"No, Mom, you don't know." Grabbing the edge of the kitchen island to anchor myself to the spot, I shake my head, keeping my back turned to her, trying to keep control. Slowly, I turn to face her.

"In school, we learned about all the children who were separated from their families at our borders, when they tried to enter the country. We learned about how, during the war, the government would take mothers and fathers from their homes at night, and children would wake up the next morning, suddenly alone to take care of themselves, with no clue if their parents were alive or dead. We learned about how people were going about their business in their cities and a nuclear bomb was dropped on them, killing everyone in an instant." Taking a slow breath I scowl, my stomach churning in anger and disgust. "And then, I come home, and my Mother has me convinced that if I tell anyone her secret, that she will get taken away, so I have to be a good girl, and hide it, from everyone. Do you know that you did such a good job convincing me, that I actually made myself believe that it was normal? That it was just how our family was? And it wasn't until Logan told me about…."

I clamp my lips shut, my hand reaching for my chest and I freeze in horror of what I almost said, in the heat of my own trauma. My breath is shaky, and I close my eyes, trying to calm myself down.

"Veronica, I'm sorry. What I did was selfish, but you need to know, that my alcoholism is part of my coping with living through all the events you just spoke of, and more." Opening my eyes, I refocus on Mom, tears now running down her face. Wringing her hands, she turns in her chair to face me.

"I lost my father in the politics leading up to the war, not to death, but because he chose the side of prejudice and racism and greed, and my mother and I left him to wallow in that hatred. I lost my dreams in the actual war, when the college I had applied to get my fine arts degree was obliterated. I lost the man I loved all through high school to Orwell, and the choices made for him by a new system." Wiping her eyes with her palms, she squares her shoulders, her features turning stoic and cold. "This does not excuse my behavior, Veronica. None of it does. But you need to know that you are leading a life that is so much different than the life I have experienced. Because there weren't counsellors at that time to help us work through things, unless you had money, and our education system was in shambles. There was nothing but chaos and loss for years, and we all just made do, as best we could, with whatever lives we had left when the fighting ended."

Mom stands and walks towards me and I'm too numb to move, my brain trying to process what she's telling me, and so, when she wraps her arms around me in a giant hug, I don't resist, but I don't move to hug her back either.

"I'm sorry for what I did, Veronica. I shouldn't have manipulated your emotions. You were only a child and I'm so sorry. I hope that, with time, you can trust me again."

The warmth of her touch thaws me, and I squeeze my eyes shut, allowing my arms to move around her body to return her affections. When I do, she pulls me closer to her, rocking gently, and now I can't hold back my tears, gasping as I sob. She strokes my hair, like she did when I was a child and couldn't sleep, soothing my heart.

"I'm sorry, Veronica. I'm so sorry."

"I just didn't want to lose you…" I gasp, my grip tightening around her. "I just didn't want to lose you like my friend lost his mother. That's all."

"You won't lose me, Veronica. You could never lose me. I'm always with you, always in your heart." She pulls back slightly to look me in the eye, her fingers now brushing the tears away from my cheeks. "You and your father are the best things that ever happened to me and that's why I'm working so hard to make things better for myself, for you both, so we can continue on as a family." She gives a small laugh and shakes her head. "So maybe, eventually, I can be a better grandmother than a mother."

I guffaw and shake my head and she giggles at my reaction. "That's not happening for a while, Mom. You've got plenty of time."

"Ah." She sighs, a wry grin on her face. "So the squeaking of the bed we heard earlier…"

"Oh. My. God!" I push away from her arms, my cheeks on fire. Mom tosses back her head in a high laugh and shakes her finger at me.

"All these years, you teased me about being a prude, but you can't take it either, can you?"

Gasping, I clutch my chest. "I am offended, Mother. Offended!"

Playfully slapping my shoulder, Mom laughs again.

"Oh come now…we're both two old married…sorry…partnered women. We can talk about these things."

My mouth drops open in horror at the thought of telling my mother anything about Logan and my sex life. Open and honest communication is one thing. Trading sex secrets with my mother was quite another. There was no way I wanted her to tell me about her and…

"Ew." Bile collects in my throat and I choke back the thought of my mother and father doing anything but watching old movies together on the couch. "No, we can't, Mom. Logan was making a point about us squeezed into the tiny bed together. Nothing was happening other than him trying to be funny about the lack of privacy we had, that's all."

"Well, it certainly was amusing." Her hand drops tenderly onto my crossed arms. "That's all right. We can talk about many other things together instead."

Once again, I'm overwhelmed with emotion. In my belly sits the anger from her actions, twisting and tightening. In my heart sits my love for her, and all the good memories I have of the two of us, when the alcohol was not a problem. She used to braid my hair before school when I was young, humming weird little songs while she worked. When my dad would go out of town, the first night was always ice-cream and movie night, and she would paint my nails with purple sparkling nailpolish. The first time I bought a bra, and got all teary in the change room over the fact that I was becoming a "woman."

Covering her hand with mine, I sigh. "Yeah, Mom. We can."

Logan

I feel like a new man after that shower. The gross smell of "airplane"—musty recycled air, and feet—is finally out of my nose. Instead, I now smell like Veronica—vanilla and sugar—thanks to her body wash and shampoo, since I forgot to pack my own. We're supposed to keep a low profile while we're here, at the insistence of the Security System, but I may need to run out and get a bar of unscented soap and shampoo.

Veronica said something about getting more coffee, so I make my way out of the bedroom, in clean jeans and a black t-shirt to find her and another cup as well. In the living room, I'm greeted by Mr. Mars, sitting on the couch, the newspaper spread out on the coffee table in front of him.

"Well, good morning again, Logan," he chuckles.

"Good morning...again, Mr. Mars." Stopping by a plaid armchair, I glance around, not completely sure what to do with myself.

"Oh please, call me Keith," he replies and points to the chair. "Why don't you have a seat? Veronica and Lianne are just having a bit of a personal chat in the kitchen right now. I want to give them some space."

"Oh…okay…." Glancing in the direction of the kitchen, I wonder if this had to do with Lianne's drinking. Veronica had expressed her hesitation about confronting her mother with her behaviour. I guess that close quarters meant it happened sooner rather than later.

Sliding into the chair, I start to fidget, trying to find a comfortable way to sit. Apparently, in the presence of Keith Mars, I've forgotten how. Do I go with sitting back, arms crossed? Or does that seem menacing? Maybe leaning forward? Or is that too casual?

"You okay, son?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." Pulling my ankle up onto my knee, I settle in and lean back. "Just got a little too used to either sitting at a desk, or stretched out in bed when I study. We don't have a lot of furniture to choose from in our dorm room."

Keith leans back and laughs, scratching the stubble on his cheek. "Those dorms aren't that comfortable, are they?"

"We've made it work." I smile, thinking about our home. "Thank you for the money to get us started. Veronica did a great job making the space feel cozy. I mean, still no room for a couch or a chair like this…" I pat the cushioned arms of the chair and laugh. "But it's still nice."

"You're more than welcome, Logan. I'm glad you both used it to set yourselves up well." He pauses and takes a slow breath. "Back in the old days, when a couple got married, they would receive gifts from people to help them set up their new home. I wanted to save some money for Veronica so she could do the same, once she was partnered."

"Well, again, thank you. I think it made a difference, allowing us to make the place ours. We've made friends with a couple—Wallace and Jackie—who are expecting a baby and got into the family housing. They really turned their little house into a beautiful home, in a very short time."

"Ah! It's good to hear that you're both making friends at college. It's nice to have another couple to talk to."

"We're pretty lucky. In a short time, they've really turned into great friends." I nod, thinking about the fun we had with them before we left. "Wallace is the one who saved my life after the explosion. He also spotted another buddy of ours—Jeff Ratner—in the rubble and we were able to get him out as well."

"Really? That's interesting." Keith's eyes narrow, his lips purse in thought. "You know, the news is still covering it as an accident, and they aren't saying much about the details right now, just to keep any members of C.H.A.D. from panicking. I mean, as a District Head on the force, I'm privy to a lot of things, but not all of it."

"That makes sense," I concur. "They probably don't want us to panic either. I can imagine that the news of a terrorist organization operating in Nova Terra again would cause people concern."

Keith stares at me in silence before a wry smile crosses his lips. "I almost forgot that you're in the political stream," he states slowly. "And with a comment like that, I can see why."

Fear ripples through me, chilling my bones. I've said something wrong. I may want to start running sentences through my head before I speak. But then Keith lets out a deep chuckle, shaking his head and I'm not sure what to think.

"Don't look so spooked, Logan. I mean that as a compliment."

Spooked? My face must have given away too much. Again.

"Um….thanks?" I exhale loudly and he laughs again.

"I just mean that you know when the people need to know everything, and when it's in everyone's best interests to hold back, that's all. That level of intelligence and empathy is not something that comes along every day, but it means that you're going to be a damn good leader someday."

My veins thaw as warmth spreads from my heart. A compliment. It had been a while since I had heard one of those from any parental figure. Teachers, all the time. Veronica...well...she had her own way of complimenting me. But this was monumental and I drop my head, trying to hide the huge smile that threatens to spread across my face.

"Thank you, Keith. I appreciate it."

"Your parents must be proud that you were placed in this career too. Carrying on the family tradition of activism and responsibility to the country."

I can't help the snort of laughter that escapes me. "If you're talking about my mother, then yes, she is."

"Ah, well, I think we can all admit that Lynn Echolls is the brains behind that couple, can't we?" Keith arches his eyebrow at me and leans forward, resting his arms on his knees. "Your father likes to take the accolades, but I was around during the war, and Lynn Lester was known in my rebel circles as a person of great intelligence and cunning, in the best possible use of the word. When you would come over to my home, as Veronica's friend, I always saw more of her in you than I ever saw of your father."

"Well, I take that as a huge compliment. Thank you."

Keith sweeps his hand over his bald head. "Not much of a fan of your old man, I take it?"

Arching my eyebrow suspiciously at Keith, I shrug. "Not much of a fan of Aaron either, I take it?"

"Can't say that I am…" Keith shakes his head, pointing his finger at me. "Interesting that we're on the same page as each other."

"It is...interesting." Leaning back into the chair, I regard my father-in-law as he eyes me.

I'm not sure where he's going with this line of questioning, but I'm fascinated to see how it plays out. I know that all of my secrets are safe with Veronica, but am curious as to how much Keith dislikes Aaron.

"What did you tell your mother and father about your injury in the explosion?"

"I haven't," I reply in a monotone. "Seemed no need to worry my mother needlessly."

"So, they don't know you're in town?"

"No. Not yet." I shrug.

"So we shouldn't ask them over for dinner, then."

All the blood drains from my face and I fight to keep from twitching at the idea of sitting across the table from Aaron ever again.

"There's no need." I reply, cooly. "I don't feel the need to see them quite yet."

"Why not?"

I inhale, sharp and loud, my eyes drifting around the room. It looks so much like a home and it has nothing to do with the couch or the rug and everything to do with the photos of Veronica, sprinkled in small frames on shelves and tables around the room. Some have her parents in the pictures with her, some are just her, when she was younger. And then, I see it. There's a photo of Veronica and I, sitting together at the restaurant after our partnership ceremony. Rising, I walk over to it, across the room on shelf with some little knick knacks around it. I pick it up and see the moment someone was able to capture on film. Even though she was cool to me that night, I made her laugh, just once. At the precise moment this picture was taken, she is smiling up at me, her eyes squinting slightly and I'm staring down at her, so thrilled that I made her laugh, in spite of herself. I sweep the bit of dust that has collected along the top of the frame, keeping my eyes on it as I refocus my brain on Keith's question.

"Let's just put it this way...my relationship with my family is quite different from the one I am trying to develop with Veronica."

"How so, Logan?"

I frown at the picture, the months since it was taken flashing through my head, as my heart swells with love.

"Everything is on the table with Veronica. We have no secrets. We talk out our problems. We apologize for our behaviours. We support each other in a way that I never thought was possible."

"And how is that different from your family?"

Fear grips my belly and I squeeze my eyes shut, suddenly assaulted by memories of Aaron screaming at me. Berating me. Grabbing my arm and shaking me until I thought my head would fall off my neck.

"Dad! Stop it."

My eyes fly open as I turn towards Veronica's voice, finding her standing near the chair I just vacated next to her mother. That's when I realize, the whole room is focused on me and my hand shakes, clinging to the edge of the frame.

"This isn't one of your interrogations," Veronica snaps at him as she quickly moves across the room to me, her eyes wide with concern.

"It wasn't meant to be, Veronica." Keith stands, momentarily flustered. "I don't understand…"

Her hand tenderly lays on mine. "Are you okay?" she whispers.

I do a mental inventory. Am I okay? I'm not sure. My head is telling me to deflect with a joke or quip. My heart is ecstatic that she's here with me now. But in my belly, something else twists.

"I think so." I sigh, regaining my composure. Placing the frame back in its spot, I take Veronica's hand and bring it to my lips, kissing it gently.

And she knows. Somehow, she knows and she grasps my hand harder, giving me a slight nod.

"I'm here. You can do this."

I nod back, my body falling numb. Self preservation. My brain was used to it. Dull the senses to survive. Veronica steps back, giving me a clear view to her father and I take a deep breath, gathering myself for what needs to happen next.

"You asked how my life with Veronica was different from that of my family, Keith, and I feel like I need to tell you that the main way is that we don't have any secrets. Because, in my family, we have a lot of secrets." I pause and Keith frowns with concern. "There are the secrets about my father's affairs. And the ones about how he spends the money the government gives him for his propaganda films." Veronica cc my hand and my focus drops to the floor, unable to look at anyone. "But the biggest secret is his treatment of me...since I was a child." Another wave of numbing calm washes over me as I find my words. "How he abused me."

My words are greeted with a dead silence. Veronica's hand gently lands on my lower back and I involuntarily flinch.

"Logan…." Keith says softly and I see his shadow on the carpet move closer to me but I can't get myself to raise my head to look. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"He had me convinced he would kill me. Or my mom. Or both."

The shadow moves again and I step back, Veronica staying by my side. I start to squirm again. Existing in my own skin seems overwhelming right now and I just want to get out.

"Logan. I'm so sorry you didn't feel you could report it to anyone," Keith states quietly, staying in his spot. "But now that you've told me, we can deal with him." He takes a deep breath and I look up to see his hand extending out into the air as if he wants to comfort me without actually touching me, but I shrink back again, a little further out of reach.

"I don't know if we can," I murmur, shaking my head. "In one of his last threats to me, he said if I told Veronica about how I really got the scars on my body, that he'd hurt my mother. Disfigure her, as a matter of fact."

"Oh my God," Lianne gasps from across the room and I look up to see her covering her mouth with her hands. "Keith, you have to help them."

"I will, Lianne. I just need all the information first…" Keith waves her off and I finally have the guts to look him in dead in the eye. "Logan...what scars do you have?"

Veronica steps closer, her palm resting on my chest. She has this air of calm, like she can handle anything, and I'm overcome with a sense of feeling safe here, with her.

"It's okay, Logan. You can show him."

With a short nod, I turn around and squeeze my eyes shut, keeping myself steady as I raise my t-shirt up my back. I hear Lianne gasp again and Veronica's hand rests on my shoulder.

"How...how did you get those, Logan?" Keith's voice cracks and I drop my shirt down, unable yet to turn around to face him.

"A belt. Aaron would beat me with a belt. I was told to claim they were from an accident on a set, but Veronica knew better than to listen to my lies."

"Your lies are not your fault, Logan. All of this, it's Aaron's fault," she says. I pivot towards her and she wraps her arms around my waist, her head pressing to my chest. "This is all on Aaron, and he's going to pay for his abuse."

I take another long breath, wrapping Veronica in a deep hug, my cheek resting on the top of her head as I face Keith. His fist is tightly clenched against his lips, his eyes narrow with anger. And even though I know it's not directed at me, my conditioning makes me flinch at the sight of another angry father in my presence.

"She's right, Logan. Aaron will pay for his abuse," Keith states.

Letting go of Veronica, I step away towards Keith. "But my mother…"

He raises his palm and I stop dead in my tracks. "I'll make sure nothing happens to Lynn. I promise you that, Logan. But in the meantime, I want your permission to call in a team to get a full statement from you…" He takes a sharp breath and points to me. "And photograph those scars as evidence."

Glancing over at Veronica, I nod to her and she nods back.

"You have my permission," I whisper.

"Good. Now I'm going to warn you both...this is going to happen very quickly, so brace yourselves.," Keith runs both hands across his bald head, his eyes wide and he gets this look in his eyes that's exactly like Veronica's when she's thinking and I can see the gears spinning in her head.

Turning, he points to Lianne. "Honey, I want you to call up Lynn and ask her to come over for a visit tonight. Some 'woman time' or something like that. Tell her you have exciting news about Veronica and Logan that you want to share. If need be, tell her it involves possible grandchildren, that'll get her over." He tosses Veronica a wink and I can't help but smile when she rolls her eyes at him.

"Really Dad? Couldn't be more creative."

He tuts and shakes his finger at her, a crooked grin on his lips. "Please. We all heard the bed squeaking this morning, Veronica. It's a valid excuse."

Veronica's mouth drops open, releasing a strangled noise of indignation. "I told you guys that was a joke…"

Keith ignores her, his finger pointing back at me."Now Logan, I want you to go right now and start writing down things you remember. Any dates or time periods of incidents. When my team gets here, it's going to take a while to get all the details and I want you to have it all clear in your head before you talk to them." Keith clears his throat, and frowns.

"The thing about Aaron Echolls…I know for a fact that he has old friends from the War in the department. I'm going to need to move quietly and quickly to ensure yours and Lynn's safety. I also don't want him catching wind and hopping on some flight to Mexico, you get me?"

"I get you, Keith. I can do whatever you ask. Let's just get this done and over with, finally."

And that's when it hits me. A lightness slowly spreads over me and I stand there, basking in the sensation. It's like the entire room is being pumped with pure oxygen and I feel almost euphoric as everything floats away from me.

I'm free. I'm finally going to be free.

Veronica wraps her arms around my bicep and looks up at me and when I smile down at her, it feels like I'm smiling for the first time in my life.

"Are you okay?"

Kissing her forehead, I breath in the soft scent of her, relishing her presence. "Not yet. Not completely. But soon, Veronica.