The Way We Were Chapter 3, a veronica mars fanfic

"So get your ass over here already. I feel like it's been weeks since I've seen you," commands Veronica, her voice weak but playful.

Logan stays where he is. His mind is a complete, absolute blur. He is not stupid; he knows that something is horribly, horribly wrong with her. And he would be able to think clearly about what to do - if she would just stop fucking looking at him with those beautiful eyes. If she would just quit looking at him with that half-amused, half-adoring expression he has resigned himself to never seeing again.

Amid his panic and confusion, it is a miracle that he manages to catch the slight movement – Veronica has just fallen backward from her sitting position, as though her body has simply given out on her. She isn't remotely hurt by this, there being three or four pillows propped up behind her; but for Veronica to display vulnerability around anyone means that she must be in real pain.

Logan's voice is dry as he speaks. "You were saying it's not as bad as it looks?"

She smiles again, her face wan and tired. "Well, considering I look like total crap, that's really not saying all that much." Veronica's eyes flutter closed briefly, and that is all the invitation Logan needs.

"I'm gonna go get, uh, someone. A doctor." Keith. Wallace. Fucking anybody. Anybody who can explain what the hell is going on. And tell him that he can leave, that he can go home - we've got this under control, we'll fix her, she'll be fine. You don't need to be here. You don't have to watch this.

It's a conscious effort to walk and not run out of the room. And it takes every ounce of willpower he has to turn back around when she calls out to him: "Logan, wait. Don't. I'm feeling okay, I swear."

Logan turns and sees her eyes fixed on his. They are both questioning and pleading. "Please come here. I – there's – I have to tell you something."

Logan's stomach twists. Not good, not good, not good, he thinks as he crosses the room toward her.

Veronica winces as she struggles to sit up again. Once sitting, she extends her hands, palms upward – clearly expecting Logan to place his hands in hers. Logan, seeing absolutely no way out of this nightmare, sits on the furthest edge of the bed and gently takes her hands in both of his. A familiar zing! of electricity shoots up his arms as his skin makes contact with hers for the first time in over two years. Her hand twitches lightly in his grasp, as though she feels it, too.

She shakes it off, however, and looks Logan straight in the eye. "I was so scared when I woke up here. I don't remember the attack specifically – Dad told me some of what happened – but when I came to in the hospital, my memories were all hazy and jumbled together. It felt like the morning after Shelly's party; and for a minute I thought that that's where I was. But then… ,"

She trails off, searching for the right words.

"I don't know how I did it. But my memory just snapped back into place all of a sudden. And I remembered everything. And I knew that, no matter what had happened to me, I would be okay. Because I have things in my life that I didn't have when I was sixteen: I have a family. I have my dad. I have Wallace. I have Mac and Weevil. I have Parker – and hell, even Piz is growing on me. We'll count him just this once, maybe." She flashes a small grin at him briefly; and then her face changes and she is as solemn and serious as he has ever known her to be.

"And I have you. Logan, you have no idea how much you mean to me." Her expression falters slightly; turns wistful. "Probably because I don't tell you."

But she shakes off her regret like a discarded shawl, in true Veronica fashion. She sets her jaw and squares her shoulders. "But that's going to change, I swear. Starting right now."

She takes a deep breath and locks eyes with Logan. Her expression is paralyzing; he can't move, he can't think. He's not even sure he can breathe.

"Logan Echolls. I lo"-

No! He lets go of her hands, jumps up from the bed, and backs away from her.

The thought runs through his head: He will die if she tells him she loves him. He doesn't care how dramatic it sounds. He doesn't care that it's brain-damaged, memory-impaired Veronica telling him. He doesn't care if this is some fucked-up alternate reality. He doesn't care if this is all just a dream he's having. It's too much. It's too much to expect him to listen to this. Life has dealt him some pretty sucktastic hands and he's coped as best he could, but he is not strong enough to handle this. I will die if she tells me she loves me. "I have to go," he tells her, his voice loud and abrupt. "I have – to go. You don't look at all well. I'm getting a doctor."

Her face twists into a mask of bewildered, uncomprehending hurt. He thinks he hears her say something to his retreating back, her voice small and pained and plaintive -

But the panicked whine in his ears drowns out her words and he's gone. He is gone. He is out of there.

0000

His feet carry him the entire length of the hallway. He has no idea where he is or in which direction he either is or should be heading. All he sees as he speeds around the corner is the tan-colored tiling on the floor and the whitewashed walls and the stupid-ass inspirational posters that sporadically dot the walls and – Mr. Mars.

Logan stops. Keith Mars is stepping out of a room, speaking to a person still inside it. He cups his ear, as though asking the person to repeat the question, then nods once firmly to show that the message is understood. He steps away from the door, turns in Logan's direction, and freezes.

Logan is not going to be the one to speak first. He is owed an explanation and by God he is going to get it.

"Logan," says Keith awkwardly. "Good to see you. Thanks for coming on such short notice."

Keith takes a few steps forward, extends his hand for Logan to shake, which Logan does – acting on autopilot the entire time.

Keith looks concerned. "Your hand is dripping sweat. Come to think it, you look like,"- and the rest of the sentence goes unsaid, because the Mars family is nothing if not intuitive. Keith's features harden.

"You didn't wait for us. You went in to see her," he says sharply.

When Logan makes no reply, Keith's worst fears are confirmed. "My God," he hisses, "do you have any idea what kind of damage you could have done? What did you tell her? Did you"-

"I didn't tell her anything." Logan bites back, his voice rising in anger. "Which is what I was told, by the way – all of nothing."

Keith's eyes narrow. "I hope that's the case. She's very unstable right now – both emotionally and physically. I'm hoping you were perceptive enough to notice that she's suffering from some temporary memory loss."

"Yeah, well, I kind of assumed something was amiss when after two years of fighting with me and avoiding me she tried to tell me she loved me." Saying the words out loud makes the whole thing real - and for one mad moment, Logan actually thinks he's going to start crying.

He doesn't think Daddy Mars will be too thrilled to hear about this particular turn of events. But au contraire; Keith actually looks a little embarrassed – maybe even sympathetic? That's not an emotion Logan's used to seeing in others, so he's not especially adept at recognizing it.

Keith sighs. "I'm sorry. That can't have been an easy thing to hear. I'm guessing she hasn't said that to you in quite some time."

Logan is too emotionally drained to hide behind lies – or even his usual sarcasm. "Try never. She's never said it."

He looks pretty damn surprised to hear that; Logan's guessing that Keith's defenses are somewhat lowered as well. "You're kidding," he says finally.

"No," says Logan, despite his better judgment. "Years ago, it was probably the thing I wished for the most. To have her tell me that. And now…" He swallows the lump that has formed in his throat. "…hearing her say it? Knowing that it's a goddamn lie?"

Keith regards Logan seriously. After a long pause, he says hesitantly: "I don't know if this makes your situation better or worse but - she's still Veronica, Logan. If she's saying that to you, she must have meant it at some point."

Logan closes his eyes. "It makes it worse," he says, more to himself than Keith. "It makes it worse that maybe she did love me and just never bothered to, you know, tell me. Or say it back to me when I said it to her." He opens his eyes, but stares at the floor. He can't meet Keith's eyes right now. "Yeah. It makes it worse."

Logan finally looks up – and yeah, that's pretty blatant sympathy staring back at him. Keith takes a step forward and reaches his hand up to touch Logan's shoulder – a fatherly sort of gesture.

"Don't!" spits out Logan, recoiling. "Seriously. I don't need your fucking sympathy, dude."

And Keith is back to normal. "It's Mr. Mars to you. Not 'dude.'I believe we've been over this."

"Yeah, we have," bites back Logan sarcastically. "And I think there are a few more rules we could stand to introduce. Like how about we don't have Wallace call and ask me to come to the hospital and then not give me one goddamn clue as to what's going on? Thought it would be funny to see how long it took me to figure it out?"

Keith is not budging an inch. "Wallace told you there was something wrong with her. We figured even you knew enough to wait by the receptionist's desk until we came and talked to you. We were in with the X-Ray Technician. Two of Veronica's ribs were fractured and three of her fingers were sprained in the attack."

I don't care, Logan tells himself. I don't care. If she'd listened to me in the first place, she would never have gone near the fucking Fitzpatricks. "And the reason Wallace didn't warn me over the phone? And don't give me that crap about being in a public place. He could have gone somewhere private."

Keith looks taken aback by Logan's perceptivity. After a decent pause, Keith says grudgingly: "We thought if you knew, you might not come."

Logan can feel the anger pulsing through him. "And if I'd chosen not to come, could you honestly blame me?"

"As Veronica's father, yes, I would blame you. I expect you to do whatever's in my daughter's best interest."

Logan shakes his head in exasperation.

"But," says Keith, surprising him, "as a man whose marriage ended - badly to say the least – I wouldn't blame you. And if it were Lianne's friends calling me on the phone from the hospital right now, it's tempting to think that I wouldn't go. I think that says something about me. And the fact that you're here after everything that's happened tells me something about you."

Logan feels a peculiar burning behind his eyes that is either the start of tears or a migraine. Neither of which he would welcome.

"Look," says Keith. "If you're willing to help my daughter, we're going to be speaking with the neurologist in the conference rooms on the second floor. They haven't been able to tell us much about her condition, although we've been advised not to aggravate her stress level by mentioning events she doesn't remember. I'm going to go fetch Wallace – he's talking to the physical therapist about some of the simpler exercises they're working on with Veronica. If I see you down in the conference room – Room 206 – then I'll know you've made your decision."

Logan sighs. "I'll be there. Just so you know."

"I figured, but I didn't want to assume."

"Yeah, well." Logan sighs. "As much as I hate to quote from Titanic…. I'm kind of involved now."

Keith nods. "Well, I'm grateful all the same. And so is Veronica."

Logan represses the urge to say something sarcastic. It's very strange, he thinks, how strong the urge to be combative is – even, and perhaps even especially, when people are trying to be kind to him. He'll have to ask Dr. Collins about that.

Instead he just gives Keith an awkward smile that probably comes out looking like a grimace, nods, and walks away. He hears the older man's footsteps walking in the opposite direction and feels, for the first time today, slightly less alone in all of this. It's not a bad feeling, really.

0000

Logan opens the door to Room 206 and immediately recognizes the lone occupant inside, despite the fact that the streaks in her hair had not been purple the last time he'd seen her. Cindy 'Mac' Mackenzie spins around in her seat and gives him a small smile.

"Hey, Logan. I thought I might be seeing you at some point."

She gestures tentatively to the chair next to hers and Logan crosses the room and sits down in it.

"Mac," he intones seriously, nodding at her. "A pleasure as always. It's been – how long has it been?" he asks her. He honestly can't remember.

Mac looks uncertain. "I'm not sure that I've seen you since you transferred. It's been awhile, anyway."

"What have you been up to?" he asks her, surprised to find that he's genuinely curious.

"I'm working for a small software development company in Oceanside. I've developed some anti-virus software we're trying to have patented. It's pretty cool."

"Do you - see much of Veronica?" He hadn't intended to ask that question so abruptly, but it's out there now.

Mac colors. "Not really, no. You know how sometimes people grow up and just sort of drift apart?"

"Sure," says Logan, nodding.

"Yeah, well, that wasn't what happened in our case. It was actually something really specific."

Logan laughs in spite of himself. "Do tell."

Mac takes a deep breath. "Okay, so – do you remember my boyfriend , Max?"

"Vaguely."

"Well, his 'business' – and I'm not in any way suggesting that I approve of said 'business'– was illegally copying and selling exams for Hearst students. And about four or five months after I started dating Max, Veronica was hired by the administration to catch whoever was distributing the exams."

"Oh…" says Logan, having a pretty good idea of where this story is going.

"Yeah, basically," says Mac. "Veronica turned him in. 'All part of the job,' she told me. And it isn't so much that I blame her for turning him in – but the way she did it? I don't know. She could have come and talked to Max or me. He would have agreed to stop if she'd asked. As it was, she got him thrown out of Hearst, and he was even in some legal trouble; fortunately he was just given community service."

Mac shakes her head in annoyance. "And it was just so frustrating. All the illegal things she's done over the years; do you know how much trouble I could get her in if I wanted to? But she knows I never would. And afterward – well, she just wouldn't apologize. Or even talk to me about it. I tried, but, well, you know the way she is."

"I know the way she was," Logan corrects her. "So how is Max these days?"

Mac blushes again. It looks adorable against the purple of her hair. "We actually broke up two years ago. He went back to this girl, Wendy, who – do you remember? - well, I won't get into it. I don't know, maybe it's stupid that I didn't try to reconnect with Veronica when he broke up with me. It's just… in some ways, she's always seemed kind of unapproachable. Until now, ironically. Because I went in to see her this morning, and she still thinks we're the best-est of buds. It was definitely weird." She glances sideways at Logan. "And even weirder for you, I'm guessing."

Logan smiles ruefully. "You're not wrong." He wonders something, though. "So if you and Veronica haven't been friends in over two years, why are you here?"

Mac looks defensive. "Why are you?" she counters.

"I asked you first," replies Logan with an airy wave of his hand.

She rolls her eyes. "Ah, the second grade school of logic. Well, I'm here because…" She sighs. "Look, if you'd asked me a week ago, I would have said that Veronica and I just didn't have much in common anymore and that the past is the past and why go there again? But then, when Wallace called…" She shrugs. "I don't know, my reasons for not being in her life just kind of fell apart. I mean, it's Veronica. You know?"

Logan can't help himself. He nods. "I know." God, does he ever know. "So," he says brightly, trying to change the subject, "dating anyone else these days? Still pining away over your nerd with the heart of gold?"

Mac looks at the table. "Um, yeah. I'm in kind of a new relationship."

"What's his name?" asks Logan.

Mac blushes again. "Claudia," she says quietly.

Logan raises his eyebrows. "Decided to bat for the other team, did we?"

"Well, I get traded back and forth – oh, God, this is sounding wrong. I don't do sports metaphors, okay? And the answer is that I don't exclusively date women, but I sometimes do, yes."

Logan nods. "Just as long as there are videotapes."

"There are no videotapes."

"Uncool."

"Pervert."

"Prude."

A knock at the door interrupts their banter. Mac answers it to find Keith, Wallace, a man wearing a suit and tie, and a woman in a lab coat.

Wallace ignores Logan's death glare and sits two chairs down from Mac. Keith sits in the chair to Wallace's immediate left.

"Good afternoon to you all," begins the man. "I'm Dr. Frank Stillson. I'm a professor at San Diego State University, where I work as a clinical psychologist at our campus-run community mental health center. In addition, I conduct research at the Traumatic Brain Injury Center at Vista Memorial Hospital. This is my colleague, Dr. Veronique Anghelone. Dr. Anghelone is one of California's most respected neurologists. She has been studying trauma-induced memory loss for over twelve years. We have spent the greater part of the morning looking at the results of Veronica's MRI. And we've studied the notes that…" and he stops to glance at his notepad, "Keith, Cindy, and Wallace have reported to the hospital staff, regarding your conversations with and observations of Veronica. And we're ready to share you with you the results of our findings."

Logan feels a prickle of anticipation. But there's nothing he can do at this point but sit back and listen. And wait. And hope.

0000

"What we have here, in the opinion of both Dr. Stillson and myself, is a very rare and possibly unique confluence of events," says Dr. Anghelone, speaking for the first time.

Keith clears his throat. "I'm sorry, Dr. Anghelone – but when you say 'unique?'"-

Dr. Anghelone nods knowingly. "What I mean by that, Mr. Mars, is that in all my years of research, I have neither come across nor heard of a case exactly like Veronica's. Which is not to say it hasn't happened. But in my professional judgment, such a case has not been recorded since the advent of what we would term modern psychology. Say in the last forty years or so."

Logan is sure that the three stunned facial expressions he sees are fairly identical to his own.

"To start with," continues Dr. Anghelone, "there is no doubt at all from looking at Veronica's brain scans – and from speaking with you all – that Veronica is suffering from partial retrograde amnesia."

Logan manages to quell his instinctive response to that statement: Ya think?

"Her recent memories show clear signs of damage." Dr. Anghelone glances over at Dr. Stillson. "But that's really not the entire story."

Dr. Stillson takes over. "We are working on pure speculation at this point, as neither of us has come across such a case. But we'd be willing to stake our academic credentials on our hypothesis being correct."

"Normally," says Dr. Anghelone, "when a patient has memory loss – especially memory loss that extends as far back as three years - they start to pick up on clues that things aren't as they were. None of you have made an extended effort to preserve things exactly as they were three years ago, have you? By that, I mean, hairstyles, clothing, etc."

"My hair," says Mac suddenly. "It wasn't streaked purple the last time I saw her. And it's – shorter, I think."

"My hair's longer than it used to be," cuts in Wallace. "And I think I've grown taller."

"Wishful thinking," says Logan.

Wallace glares at him and Logan gives him a thumbs up.

"As I was saying," continues Dr. Anghelone. "Normally patients become very quick to notice things about our appearances and mannerisms - things that aren't even apparent to us. We don't realize how much we change over the years because it happens so gradually."

"And it appears from what we know about Veronica," says Dr. Stillson, "that she is much more prone to using her powers of reasoning and deduction than the average person. She notices little things and quickly gets to the truth of the matter."

There is a general murmur of agreement around the table.

"That is really weird," says Wallace. "I'd think she would have figured it out right away – just from the way we look and the way we act around her. But she hasn't questioned it at all."

"That's where I come in," says Dr. Stillson. "My hypothesis is this: Veronica's memories were in fact damaged due to the head trauma she suffered. But that doesn't explain why she only retains memories of this particular time in her life, three years ago. Neither Dr. Anghelone nor myself can think of any reason, physiologically speaking, that her subconscious would return to this specific time."

He surveys the four people at the table. "From what I can gather, her relationships with the four of you are not nearly as strong as they were three years ago." Keith winces at this, but doesn't fight it. "I think that – subconsciously, you understand – she deliberately chose to return to this point in her life. She had a strong support network, she was relatively happy, and she felt safe. And I think that her body may even know on a purely instinctual level that it will heal much more rapidly if she's in a better place emotionally."

"I think she wants to believe that you are all still as close as you once were, and I think she's dismissing any evidence that conflicts with that desire. In short," he says, shrugging his shoulders and looking slightly embarrassed, "I think she misses you. All of you."

There is about thirty seconds of silence. Logan certainly has nothing to say to all of this. He's definitely feeling that migraine coming on, though.

Finally, Wallace speaks. "Okay. So assuming that you're right… just assuming that this is the case. What do we do?"

Dr. Anghelone sighs. "I'm afraid you're not going to like this part very much. The truth is that we don't know. Generally, patients with retrograde amnesia regain their memories within a few days of the incident. So it is still definitely possible that she could get these memories back in a day or two. But in the meantime…" She looks at Dr. Stillson, who seems similarly at a loss.

"As a psychologist, I would advise you to keep doing what you're doing. Act as though it's still three years ago – but even more importantly than that – act as though you're asclose as you were three years ago. Mentioning events that have taken place in the last three years will only confuse and possibly terrify her. I genuinely believe that her memories will return to her shortly, of their own accord. If they don't… well, let's take it one crisis at a time."

One crisis at a time? That, thinks Logan as the two doctors pack up and exit the room, could be considered the definition of my life.