Chapter 5:

Jack, my eternal flame

Logan was drunk. Badly drunk. He wasn't sure how many drinks he took in the last few hours. But his bottle of Jack was definitely doing wonders to him.

When Veronica told him to go, cold as ice, his heart fell into pieces. Why did I still have hope? I know her better. She would cut all of her fingers before telling me that she loves me, or that I mean something to her.

He took another long sip of whisky. He didn't stay long after she pronounced her last words…. He stared at her, trying to find something in her eyes. But she was unreadable. She was closed to him, her eyes empty of any emotions. He knew her better than that. He knew she was doing that to protect herself from any pain, from any involvement. But he would not force her into expressing her emotions, or only feeling emotions. He was tired of that game, tired of fighting for an epic love story where he was the one constantly bleeding his heart out of it.

He went to his window, taking another long sip, taking a look at New York. So close and so far away…

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Veronica was sitting on her bed, looking absently at the window. Thinking about what she said. Or maybe what she hasn't said, to be more specific. Thinking about what she's done.

I know I hurt him. Why do I always do that? I did hurt me in the past, he broke my heart with Madison, and then Parker… but did I have any right to act so childishly, refusing to communicate after so many years? After so many years of dating Piz but thinking about him, of kissing Piz but tasting his mouth every single time…

Closing her eyes, she let a tear run down her cheek….

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-"Yes. A petite blonde. Clear blue eyes. She had a picture of Jake Kane. No, not Veronica Mars… Goodwill, Mandy Goodwill, that's how she called herself. She said he was a friend of the family. No clue where she is staying, she said she was on holidays… Yes, if she ever comes back I will let you know."

Nikolai frowned, seriously bothered. He had called his father as soon as the petite blonde got out of his restaurant. Everybody knew around here that no question should ever be asked inside of Uncle Vanya's restaurant. And her intrusion in his quiet existence didn't please him at all. She seemed quite nice, but appearances are always misleading. He knew what is family was able to, and keeping on the low with his little business was his way to disapprove it.

Taping on his bar with his long fingers, he was contemplating the pictures of his family. If something would happen to them, he would definitely fight for them and save them. He remembered the man. Late 40's, tall, charming, but troubled and agitated. He had seen him with his father on many reception pictures, but never asked who he was specifically. That day… that day when he came… he probably never seen his father that angry, spitting insults against the newcomer, his eyes bursting out of his orbits, a vein palpitating on his neck, his face as red as blood…

He had learned not to listen to the conversations, but by the look of his father, he was afraid. Afraid for him, but also for the poor man who just looked petrified. He had forgotten about that episode, like many others that happened in his little shop, preferring to keep a quiet life than fighting for desperate causes.

He took a glass of whisky. He didn't mind drinking something else, even though everybody seemed to think that Russian only drink vodka. Jack was his friend, as much as Wybrowka, Smirnoff, Absolute, Grey Goose, Belvédère…. Sometimes, whatever type of alcohol was better than no alcohol.

Her eyes were haunting him. When he left her to go to the kitchen, he thought his day would pass by quickly, forgetting about her like all the other ones. But there was something in her eyes… it wasn't purity, but it seems they had something that was inexistent in his world… a desire to do good. An absence of self-interest. She wasn't afraid because she knew she was doing the right thing, whatever it was.

Looking at his glass, he was surprised. Surprised that it was empty. Surprised because he was caring for a girl he only met for a few minutes. Because he knew that if she would still dig, she would probably get hurt. Vanya and the Sorokin were not people who would let intruders learn their secrets, their business. Or investigate on them.

He took another glass of Jack Daniel's, letting the whisky burn his throat, clean his mind. Even when he was closing his eyes she would still be there, her bright blue eyes questioning him. He didn't knew what happened to the man she was looking for, but he could at least try to help her, tell her to stay away, look for her.

How did Vanya call her again? Veronica Mars?

Grabbing his coat and his phone, closing his shop, he left his kitchen to try, for once, to fight for what he thought would be right, whatever his family would say…

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Veronica was looking down at her glass of whisky. She wasn't the kind to drink. She never really liked it that much. She saw her mom way too many times drunk to really enjoy it.

She took a sip of it. It burned down her throat. She was still thinking of Logan. Damn him. Damn him for making her forget everything else when he was around.

Her phone rang. Looking at it, she sighed. Piz. Great.

-"Heya. How are you doing?"

-"Hey!!! I should be the one asking you that, you haven't called since you left! Is everything ok?"

-"Yeah, sure, its just going… slower than I thought, that's all."

-"Look, you know you can come back anytime, I mean, work is work, you know that, right?"

-"Sure Piz… So what have you been up to?"

His voice was like a buzzing background. It was just noise. She wasn't really listening to him anymore. She took another sip, asking herself why she was still with him. Comfort. Predictability. But now, after she saw Logan, after she heard him, after she felt him… she just couldn't care anymore. She knew he would never be the one. And going on with this lie was only going to hurt him even more than she already did.

-"Babe, are you listening to me?"

-"what… what? I'm sorry, I was distracted"

-"So I was telling I could fly by… I talked to my boss and he told me he could give me a few days off, so I could come to New York and help you. What do you think about it?"

-"That's… That's… "

She was breathing heavily, trying to decide between her head and her heart. Piz was a good guy, who could always give her the stability and the admiration that she deserved.

-"That's… not going to happen Piz?

-"Why Veronica? You are afraid I can't deal with it? It's been 3 years for god sakes, you should know I can protect you, and take care of you, and…"

-"Stop Piz. It's over. I'm… I'm sorry. You are a great guy.."

-"The hell is that???? Is that a bad joke or what?"

-"Look Piz, I just think.."

-"You just think? Why did you go to NYC Veronica? For real. It was to go back to him, right? Have you been lying all this time to me? Did you always planned to go see him, to find your god damn epic love?????"

-"No Piz, I never came to see Logan. Even when I saw him, I mean he's the one who came to my door and…"

-"Really? He is the one who came? So you never planned on seeing him? Whatever Veronica. I am tired. Tired of you not being able to know what you want. I gave you everything, but I was never the one. Why? Because I am not a jackass, because I am a good guy. Go chase your dream and your ghosts, but you and me, its over. And when he is going to break you, like he always did, don't come back to me."

The sound of Piz hanging up on her was practically a relief. A relief for 3 years of listening to her head. 3 years of restraining her heart to talk, to speak up, to scream his need for Logan to be his only owner.

Looking at her glass, she downed all the whisky that was remaining in it. Not to drawn her sorrow, but to celebrate. To celebrate a new life, to celebrate her time for happiness, for freedom.

Her cellphone ringing again, she didn't even bothered looking at it and answered.

-"Look Piz, you are right…"

-"Hum, Miss Mars. What a pleasure to finally speak to you."

Her old body, even with the alcohol, cooled down automatically, shivering of fear. The voice was not known of her, but the accent, the Russian accent, wasn't announcing anything good…