So, this got a bit rambly and for that, I apologize. As always, I am simply borrowing these wonderful characters. To those who read, follow and review, thank you so, so much. Your words mean a great deal, so love is greatly appreciated!
"Ax! Get your ass outta there!" He could hear Gunny's voice boom across the beach, they were separated by a good fifty yards and the small faction of well-hidden Japanese soldiers. They were pinned on the beach, bullets flying too close, landing at their feet in the sand.
"Okay, Casey," he adjusted the helmet firmly on his head and crouched down next to his friend. "I'm going to get you outta here buddy, but I need you to stand. Can you do that?" The gun spray was closer now, Logan covered Casey's body with his own, he'd already lost too much blood, and he couldn't take another hit.
"Logan," his voice was a low croak, half-suffocated, half-terrified, "You have to go. I'm not going to make it…" he said softly. Logan frantically shook his head and slid his arm under Casey's shoulders, propelling him forward.
"I have to try Case," With that, he hoisted the injured man to his feet, the blood soaking his khaki shirt as the movement caused the wound to gush. "Shit." Casey's sudden loss of consciousness knocked them both back to the ground. The rapid fire had reached its crescendo, Logan stayed as close to the ground as he could while trying to rouse his friend. He could hear shouting behind him, Japanese and English though he couldn't understand a single word that was said.
"Lo?"
"I'm right here," he put his hand on his friends shoulder and squeezed it tightly.
"Get out of this place," the tears ran unfettered down Casey Gants cheeks, he had accepted his fate and hoped that the same wouldn't befall his old friend. "Keep your fucking head on straight, Logan, I'm serious, you need to make it back!" He wasn't sure where this wave of urgency had come from, but Logan dutifully listened, trying to assuage the dying man by insisting he would do everything he could to get back. Casey grasped the front of his shirt, soaked through with his blood and looked his friend square in the eyes, the intensity striking Logan like a mallet. "Survive, Logan. She….you need to get home." And as quickly as the inferno flared through his eyes, the flame stilled, then flickered before being extinguished completely.
"Case? Casey?" Logan gently tried to shake Casey awake, his voice breaking with each unanswered response. He clutched the fallen Marine close to his chest and cried. When their unit's had met up Logan was terrified Casey would give him away, or bring up a subject Logan wasn't sure he'd be able to handle, but he took to calling him Ax and leaving Neptune a half a world away without having to be asked. That was the only time he'd ever mentioned the past, and he said her. There was only one her. And he would move Heaven and Earth to get back there. Gunny was calling for him again. He detached a dog tag and put it in his pocket, his silent promise lingering in the air that he'd make his way home. Checking his weapon, he nodded a final goodbye to Casey and took off across the gap, shooting blindly into the fray before collapsing at the feet of his Lieutenant.
"Ax? Lonnie? Come on, son, get up!"
He woke with a start, breathing haggard, the scent of gunpowder still in his nostrils. He yawned, haphazardly wiped the vestiges of sleep from his eyes and shifted, uncomfortably, the sand giving way beneath his weight. The waves broke lazily along the shore as Logan forced himself into a sitting position, sighing heavily as he looked longingly towards the house.
"Well, I made it home Case, now what do I do?" He sighed audibly. He should go now while it was still dark enough she could be asleep, but he couldn't will himself to stand. If he were being honest with himself, he knew waiting was the best chance to run into her. Not much longer, another minute or two, just enough to work up the courage to face her. Since they'd gotten back, the whole four days it had been, she could barely even look at him.
Maybe he should have looked upset when he walked through the front door. Everything from before was gone; his parents photos and paintings, the furniture they argued over, every surface that held any bit of negativity was tabula rasa. This was his chance, to make this house his home, finally. He couldn't help the smile that appeared. When Veronica walked past him and showed her father to the master suite, it clicked that they were his new roommates. He'd been nearly certain that it would be Dick or Wallace who he'd be living with, the current reality hadn't even presented itself as an option in his mind. She was living in his house. Had been living in his house, he presumed, at least, a little while.
There wasn't much in the way of anything, really, save for a small loveseat and stereo in the great room, a stark contrast to the massive stone fireplace they sat next to, and a four-person dinette that was swallowed by the sheer expanse of the dining room. Veronica had called to him from her doorway after seeing Dick and Wallace out. She had said his room was still same and that there was an important envelope on his desk. Before he could respond she'd slipped into her room. The one right across from his. That wasn't a coincidence, was it? Four days he'd been pondering that, along with a myriad of other things only she could answer.
Coming home was much more difficult that Logan had expected. Not that he assumed it would be a seamless transition back to normalcy, but add the fact the Mars' were living in his home to the equation, and watch him become the poster child to the maladjusted. He was relentlessly antsy if there wasn't one part of his body fidgeting he was sleeping, and even then it was restless. It was eerily quiet all the time, and far too still, it made him uncomfortable. He spent the last few years sleeping in shifts, if one could call the few hours he had, every couple of nights, actually sleeping. There were a few times when the fighting was less intense, and they found their camps had a little more permanence and he'd been able to sleep continuous hours. Like with every happiness in life, it too came with a price.
Those prized rest periods soon became as haunted as Logan's waking life. He remembered being seven or eight and talking to his mother about the nightmares he'd been having. Thinking she would dismiss his childish fancy, he was shocked to find himself enveloped tightly in her arms. She soothingly whispered that it was over, and the monster could not come when he slept, he was safe and no harm would come to him. Of course, she was wrong, the monster never stopped, even as he slept. The emotional scars ran as deep as the physical ones. Though these times when he woke panic stricken, it wasn't his body that burned, but his heart. His soul. She stole into his subconscious long before he ever left her at their prom, where the barbs she detached nestled in his heart. His punishment from the gods, he was sure, was that every time he closed his eyes, her face was what he saw. Whether it was the heartbreak from his departure or seeing her happy, with someone else; the absolute worst was when he dreamed of what their future, together, would have been like. Sure, he woke those days more determined, carried forward with the knowledge they were steps closer to home, to her. He learned to be thankful for short, sporadic bouts of sleep brought on by bone-deep exhaustion. There was no time for dreams then.
Since the majority of his service was spent on cots or tarps on the beach, Logan was not used to sleeping on a bed much less waking up at his leisure. The first few nights he fell asleep on the patio, waking only after the sun rose. When he'd come in, he'd find coffee ready for him, but nothing and no one else. Veronica had told him, in the handful of words she'd said to him since they'd been back, that she was still needed in the office and her father would be joining. She hadn't been particularly cold to him, he had thought, but her edges were rough and badly worn, her ability to keep her tongue in check was masterful, he could see the guard masking her eyes was practically threadbare. He tried to stay out of her way. Maybe the first night he accidentally fell asleep outside, but the next two, he couldn't bear the thought of sleeping just across the hall from her when she could hardly to stand to look at him. He'd go into sleep when he knew she was gone. He could live in the same house and avoid her forever, right? That's what it seemed she was counting on. He sighed loudly as he pushed himself off the sand. Brushing the pervasive granules from his clothing, he made his way up the steps that lead to the back doors. He was halfway into a sure-fire plan that would allow this avoidance thing to go on forever when he noticed the silhouette seated at the large stone table. He slowed his approach, noting the two steaming cups on the table.
"Good morning, Veronica," he said quietly. "Your dad joining you?" He heard her breathe in deeply, the slow, shaky exhale mirroring his own as she spoke.
"No," she said, and added amused "He's busy fighting a formerly feather foe into submission." Logan quirked his eyebrow in confusion and even in the dusky morning light she could see it, the smirk on her face was surely equally noticeable. "It's thanksgiving Logan."
"Ah, yes, how could I have forgotten? Oh right," he snapped his fingers emphatically. "We didn't get much time to celebrate… " he pursed his lips tightly, she didn't get to spend the holidays with her actual family, either, remember Logan. He shook his head and tried to smooth the acerbic edge that had crept into his voice unwillingly. "You know, the holidays at the Echolls house were all just photo-ops. I don't think I celebrated a holiday, with family, on the actual date until you and me…" his voice trailed off. He looked up to see her nodding, gesturing for him to sit. He took the seat and sipped the proffered coffee gratefully.
"You don't have to sleep outside," Veronica all but whispered. Watching his constantly agitated state wore her nerves like nothing else. While she'd gotten one good hit in at the train station, she then collapsed and let him sweep her up in his arms, crying into his broad chest. He had been so warm, so strong, so HER Logan, and she was so angry at herself for letting him see her like that. She was still angry. So much so that ninety percent of her Logan centered thoughts revolved on slapping him, the other ten percent, well, she wasn't quite ready to grapple with those feelings. And if she was truly honest with herself, that ratio was definitely more seventy/thirty…on a bad day.
Logan ran his hand nervously back and forth through his hair, a small smile gracing his lips.
"It's not entirely intentional," this time her eyebrow quirked and he couldn't help the chuckle that slipped past his lips. She could still read him like a book. "I hadn't really planned on coming back and sharing my house with my ex-girlfriend and her dad, it kind of makes the adjustment even more awkward." Well, if he was going for honesty…
"Did you actually plan on coming back at all?" There was a venom in her words that Logan hadn't ever heard before. "I mean, I had figured out what you were doing, you couldn't drop me a line, at any time? A simple 'I'm alive' periodically, and maybe a 'Feel free to write me back.' To which I would have surely responded with a resounding, fuck you! But at least, I would have known you were alive! Fuck!" she said exasperatedly. The sun was creeping up over the waves, deep purple fading to pink as it made its way up the coast. Logan was certain the red that tinged her cheeks had little to do with the sun, that it was him that turned her scarlet in anger. At least, he could still affect her so strongly, that had to mean something he thought.
"Veronica, there's nothing I can say," the coffee cup rolled between his palms as he tried to work up the nerve. "There are so, so many things I wish I'd have done differently, but I can't go back and change the past. And the only regret I have is how badly I hurt you. How badly you were hurt…and the only thing I can offer to assuage that pain is to tell you if something had happened to me that you would have known." Her head snapped up, their eyes meeting in the waxing light. He could see the confusion steal across her features, her eyes seemed to dance as she tried to process his words.
"What exactly does that mean Logan?"
"It means exactly that, Ronnie," he willed his heart not to shatter when she winced. He swallowed thickly, his heart was starting to race again he noticed as he continued. "If something had happened to me, 'Lonnie Ackles' next of kin, Veronica Mars would have been notified." Veronica failed to keep her jaw from dropping at the revelation. Her mouth agape, she just started at him, the now neon sky fully illuminating his profile. She noted the sadness his eyes held and the lines that had lightly creased their corners, his leg constantly in motion, whether he knew it or not it had been going ever since he sat down, she noticed everything that was different from her Logan in that instant and the tear she had been so valiantly holding back, slipped past her defenses. She tried to catch it before he saw, she refused to let him see her cry again…but he caught her angrily wiping the tear from her face. "Please, don't Veronica," he turned toward her but was halted by her hand. Mask of indifference gone, thinly veiled rage replaced by glowing indignation, backlit by the red morning sun.
"No, Logan, I can't do this, not today," she pushed away from the table and stood. "This is the first Thanksgiving in years that I get to spend with the people I most want to. And for some, godforsaken reason that also includes you." He took a deep breath, he could feel his chest tightening and that tingling sensation in his left hand. "So, can we get through dinner tonight and then have it out? Just ten more hours then you say your bit and I'll say mine and we can go back to avoiding each other." He nodded, forcing his eyes to lock with hers, a silent promise that they would indeed finish this conversation later. She shook her head once and quickly retreated back into the house. Logan set his coffee on the table and dropped his head between his legs. He wasn't sure exactly how long he'd been like that when he noticed another pair of legs in his line of sight. Slowly lifting his head he saw Keith Mars, still in his pajamas, shaking his head.
"You know what we sailors say about the morning sky," Logan laughed softly, taking a deep breath as he sat up, then stood from the chair. "If her current attitude can be used to measure the rest of the day, I'd say we're in for the Seventh Circle of Hell."
"You'd be lucky if she put you in the Fifth, Mr. Mars," Logan said half-jokingly. "She may be angry at you, but me, I'll be in the Ninth Circle for all the days of eternity. Treachery doesn't seem to cover it." He shook his head, he could hardly blame her.
"Logan, you knew this was going to be difficult. It's only been a few days, you have to give her time, son," Keith put his hand on Logan's shoulder. "Did you give her the letters?"
He shrugged off Keith's arm and ran his hand across the back of his neck.
"I'll take that as a no. You should really do that. I can't promise Veronica will forgive you, Logan, we both know how badly she was hurt, but maybe if she knew how you hurt too, well…" Keith turned away from the young man, his heart aching for the boy and his daughter who both needed time and support to find their way back to one another. Right now, though, he was going to focus on his stuffing, because by God, he was finally back in the USA and he was going to celebrate America with the best Thanksgiving on the west coast.
Veronica had dug what little china her parents had out of the garage and set the table meticulously as if it were going to be featured in 'Better Homes and Gardens'. Ever since her encounter with Logan this morning, she had been teetering, her desperation throwing herself into whatever mundane task lay ahead of her. Each place setting was picture perfect, the paragon of table dressing. She had been wary of eating outside but, the weather was perfect. Another plus in your column southern California, she thought trying to push the idea of running out of her head. She had to admit, there was something about enjoying a meal outdoors. The men unanimously seemed to prefer it. The large outdoor table was also the only place that afforded they could all be sat together. Thank goodness neither Lynn nor Aaron had any need for this monstrosity and had left it behind. Veronica looked at her friends, laughing quietly as Darrell tried exhausting himself by running up and down the steps. No amount of admonishment from his mother or anyone seemed to have an impact, everyone was in too good of spirits.
Or, perhaps more appropriately, had too many good spirits in them.
"So, Logan, how's it feel to be home?" Vinnie Van Lowe asked through a mouthful of dinner roll. Logan had been the picture of a perfect host, graciously welcoming the Fennels, Vinnie, and Dick into his home. He certainly had no difficulty slinking right back into that false, Echolls-imbued bravado, damn was he charming. That veneer was slipping, Veronica could see the tension that had been mounting all day rolling off him in waves.
"Feels great. There's nothing like being alive Mr. Van Lowe," he said, swirling the last of the wine in his glass before drinking it down. He wasn't sure how many glasses he'd had, but he was pretty sure they'd just polished off the fifth bottle. He half expected the wine cellar to be empty but was delighted to only find a handful of bottles missing, he and Wallace had carried a variety up when everyone had arrived. That was the only one on one interaction they had and neither had much to say, not about anything important anyway. Logan had expected them to be mad at him too, of course, but they shared something deep even before they had all left to fight, and he hoped he hadn't lost them as well. It hurt him more than he thought it would that Wallace and Dick were there for Veronica. Not just tonight, but when he had left and before he got back. They worked, in a strange, symbiotic way, each needing the other in a way another couldn't fill, and Logan hated how absolutely jealous he was of them. That was perhaps the reason he kept drinking after his head had clearly told him to stop.
"To being alive!" Veronica yelled from across the table, upending her nearly full glass of wine and drinking down every last drop. Wallace and Dick shared a look, this was not going to be pretty. "I am so happy that all those wishes I made against your life didn't actually come true. Then again, most of the wishes I made about you didn't come true."
"What were you hoping for Veronica? Grotesque burns? Incurable malaise?" he challenged from behind his once again full glass. She scoffed, crossing her arms in front of her tightly, looking anywhere but his direction. Angry words glided over his tongue, their acid burning the rational thought from his mind until his eyes met with Keith's and the shame took over. The man had the ability to make him feel an inch tall with the slightest raise of his brow and a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. "You know what? I promised you tonight, Veronica, and I want to keep my promises to you. All of them." He said pointedly, she looked in his direction and allowed him to hold her gaze. In that look, he tried to convey how sorry he was for nearly letting her down, again, and he would prove himself worthy of her. Some day. He nodded and pushed away from the table. "I'll be on the beach when you're ready to talk." He thanked everyone for coming and excused himself, his eyes never leaving hers.
Veronica knew when he was out of sight because suddenly all the eyes focused on her.
"Honey, if you want to go…"
"No," she shook her head resolutely, "I asked him to get through this meal. We're going to do that and enjoy it, dammit. I know where to find him." Dick and Wallace knew where he'd be as well, and while they knew Veronica had to talk to him, they felt as if they did too. As if she could sense what they were thinking, she waved her hand at them dismissively.
"You know, this telepathy thing is getting pretty creepy, Vee," Wallace stood and kissed his mom on the cheek before going around the table and grabbing Veronica's hand. Dick had come over and put his hand on top, jerking his head in the direction of steps.
"Let's go soften him up, Wally. He's going to crack like the Liberty Bell when she gets her claws into him," she smiled at the two people she had come to depend on so much. She wasn't sure why fate could be so cruel and in the same stroke, know exactly what someone needed. Before she could register they'd left, Alicia was by her side, asking her asinine questions to keep her mind from following the boys down the beach. She was never more grateful to be distracted in her life.
"Logan! Hey, Logan wait up!"
"Yeah, man, Dick doesn't do so good on sand!"
"Fuck off, Wallace."
"I'm not trying to be an asshole, Dick. I'm simply trying to explain to our friend up there why he needs to slow down," the way friend had come out had set Logan's teeth on edge. If he had been looking at Wallace, he was sure that the sneer on his face conveyed it perfectly. He stopped then, but still faced away. Dick stepped past Wallace and kept walking toward Logan. Logan turned his head to see one of his oldest friends, slowly, uncomfortably, purposefully coming to stand beside him on the beach. He couldn't help the sadness that stole over his features, to see Dick, always vivacious and so full of life, have to focus so intently on such a menial task. He went to speak but Dick silenced him with a hand.
"Look Lo," the corner of his mouth twitched upward involuntarily. "We'll have plenty of time to hash out whatever between the three of us. Wally and I have taken issue with several things you have done, or hadn't done as it were, but we're secondary. We've been friends since we were kids Logan, and even though there is some, residual anger..." Dick sighed, and resignedly finished, "I am really, and really glad you're home." He went to clap Logan on the shoulder but his friend grabbed him, wrapping his arms around him in a most un-masculine hug.
"Dick, I am so sorry." He said as he pulled away, leaving room for Wallace to stand beside them. "Wallace," he extended his hand and was met with a firm, yet warm handshake. "I know there is nothing I can say to justify my leaving like I did, but I will spend the rest of my days trying to make up for it. I swear."
"We get it, Logan. Your timing was…"
"Shit," Wallace supplied.
"Yes, complete shit."
"As in hit the fan."
"Is this what I missed out on in Europe? The comedy stylings of Casablancas and Fennell? Is all you do finish each other's sentences or is there more to this troupe?" Dick couldn't help but smirk, knowing that the war hadn't completely destroyed the jackass that lurked inside of Logan.
"Well, I don't know what you Leathernecks deem as comedic, but leaving your pregnant girlfriend to fend off the wolves doesn't seem riotous to me!" Wallace countered. The hurt in Logan's eyes burned white hot, even Dick couldn't believe he'd said that.
"I didn't know," his voice sounded hollow as if all the fight had burned up in him. Desperation replaced the pain as Logan sank to his knees. "I swear to you I had no idea. I would never have. I could never leave my…you have to believe I would have never left her if I'd known." Dick nodded and smiled somberly, Wallace's face still held lines of disdain, but he relenting nods.
"We know that Logan, so does she. You know as angry as she was at you, is at you," Dick corrected, "she's never once let us call you all the terrible things we've wanted to. Well, not in front of her anyway." Logan tried to smile, but the nausea that overwhelmed whenever he thought of what Veronica went thought put an end to it.
"Mr. Mars told me. He hadn't planned on it, didn't want to be the one to tell me, but thought I should know before I showed up on her doorstep begging her to take me back," a mirthless laugh did manage to pass his lips this time. "Funny how it's actually my doorstep and I haven't had more than five minutes with her, and we all know it takes, at least, double that time to get a word, let alone groveling in with her." He pulled himself up and brushed the sand from his knees, as much as he loved the beach he was pretty sure he was done with sand. After his dream this morning, he was certain he was done with the beach for a while too.
"Okay, so after we all leave, you are going to go to her," Wallace looked at him pointedly as he looked sheepishly at his feet, his weight shifting back and forth. "You go to her and you listen to every word she has to say to you. And if you're lucky, she'll let you respond. If not," he and Dick shrugged, turning away from Logan and walking back toward the house. Over his shoulder, Dick called,
"Grovel. Beg. Swear up and down on everything you hold holy. Do NOT fuck this up again Logan!" Logan genuinely laughed as his friends faded from view, their words strengthening his resolve. He could make this right. He would give it everything he had. Oh God, please let it be enough.
Everyone had gone, Logan assumed, as the only light emanating came from beside Veronica's loveseat. She stared out the massive windows, taking in the night as Lena Horne purred in the background. Her fingers absentmindedly twirled flaxen strands between their lengths, she was so lost in the music she hadn't noticed Logan come in until he was stood right in front of her.
"Did you have a nice walk?" She asked coolly. Letting her hair slip from her fingers, she settled her gaze on him, her eyes like ice as they raked over his body. He took a deep breath. He was prepared for the anger that she was bound to unleash though his shaky hand and palpitating heart spoke otherwise.
"It's a lovely night. Though I have to say, I think I've had all of the beaches that I can handle."
"Who'd have ever thought those words would come out of your mouth?"
"That was a long time ago, Veronica. And my experiences on beaches have quite changed since then." He rejoined snappily. The mask had slipped completely, the anger and hurt radiated from her form at his tone.
"And whose fault is that Logan?"
"Mine! It is completely my fault! I just wanted to do something with my life that wasn't a direct derivative of being an Echolls."
"Well, bully for you! Was it worth it Logan? Do you feel like a real man now?"
"Veronica, please, I know I can never make you understand why I left, half the time I don't know why I did it either. God, I was such a fool and I know it, I know I should have never listened to what anyone else said about me. And if I could have trusted my heart," he paused and took a deep breath, her eyes watching him expectantly as tears ringed her eyes. He knelt down in front of her, aching to touch her but knowing he had to maintain his control. "I would have never doubted the man you saw in me. I would have stayed, by your side, and you'd never have gotten rid of me." She fought the smile that tugged at her lips but reminding herself that he did leave her forced the thought to the back of her mind.
"That's real nice of you, but the timing of this epic speech is about three years too late. I don't want to hear about how much you loved me because however much say it was, it clearly wasn't enough."
"It was more than enough, Veronica. You deserved, deserve so much more than I can give you. I hurt you, and I'll never forgive myself for what I put you through. I don't expect you to forgive me either, but I swear to you I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it right."
"See, that's what you don't get Logan, nothing can ever make it right, you don't… You could have had thousands of different beach memories, happy ones. Ones where you and I and our child," His breath hitched despite himself, to hear her say it impacted him with physical force. She forced her eyes to his, glassed over, deep with sadness and regret, and a pain she had only ever seen in her own eyes. Involuntarily, her hands rested on her stomach, the revulsion rising in her body as she began to cry. "I lost our baby, Logan," his arms encircled her small frame before the first tear could spill past her lashes. "I couldn't save him, Lo, he never had a chance." He cried with her, the sobs racking her body reverberating through his own. He held onto her for as long as she let him, the record had stopped, the only sound was her faint hiccupping and the waves picking up speed as the lashed at the coast.
"Ronnie," she tensed. "Veronica, nothing that happened was your fault. Everything, all of it was because of me. Stop blaming yourself, please, I can't bear to see you hurt so badly." His fingers toyed with her ponytail, deftly weaving the strands in a lulling pattern, noticing her breathing start to even out he held her closer and kept whispering. "Hate me. Forever if you have to, but please, forgive yourself."
"If only I could hate you," she sharply pulled away from him, wiping the tears from her face. "It would be SO much easier if I could hate you, and yet, no matter how hard I try…" she shook the thoughts from her head, no point in going down that road right now. "How did you find out? Your reaction to finding out I was pregnant and subsequently lost our child was much more subdued that I anticipated." And just like that, the mask was back. The emotion she struggled to hold onto had been tamped back down, she was fully in control of how much of herself she would show from now on. Oh, how he'd missed this woman.
"Your dad told me on the Gordon. I was apparently being a self-indulgent, drama queen and he decided I needed setting straight. If I was going to try and be a part of your life again, I had to come baring my heart and soul…and in order to do so, all the blanks needed filling in." He could see her biting the inside of her cheek, she was holding back something more but he wouldn't push her.
"And he did that? Filled in all the blanks?"
"Yes. Every last one. And I swear while there is still breath in my body, I will make him pay, I swear to you, Veronica. Aaron will not get away with what he did to you." A smile ghosted her lips, a real one, and she nodded, complacent that maybe they could be getting on the same page.
"Well, that's one thing we agree on." She raised her glass and drank her final sip of wine. She had gotten drunker than intended, but for once, she was thankful for it. She was an apathetic drunk, and keeping her emotions in check, especially the Logan-centric ones, was easier to do when she could not think about the gravity of their orbit. "I think I'm going to call it a night," she said quietly. Rocking back on his heels, he nodded and stood, hands outstretched in front of him for her to take hold of. She allowed herself his assistance in standing and being walked to her room. "Can we continue this in the morning?"
"I um, actually have some things to take care of in LA," he said uncomfortably. "I'm leaving tomorrow."
"You're leaving me again? After what you just said?!" she couldn't help how her voice raised, or how the blood thrummed in her veins.
"No, Veronica!" he insisted, his hands rubbing up and down her upper arms. "I'm not leaving you. I'll be gone a few days, but I am never leaving YOU again. I swear." He desperately wanted to kiss her, to make her feel everything he did but he knew he couldn't. She nodded.
"The keys to the Phantom are in the glove box, it hasn't been driven in a while so you might want to run her before you go. I guess, I'll see you when you get back." He smiled down at her, tracing his thumb along her cheekbone before he could register what he was doing. Her breathing had sped up and he could feel her heart pounding, if he didn't walk away now he'd never be able to.
"Good night, Veronica. I'll see you when I get back." He turned towards his room and could have sworn her heard her say 'hurry home' before the door latched closed behind him.
It wasn't a dream. The conversation she had been dreading had actually happened and it didn't go half as horrible as she'd expected. Of course, they still had miles to go before they grasped the scope of what that kind of revelation could do to a person. At least, she had a couple days to get her head on before he came back. If he came back. No, he promised he'd come back this time and that he'd never leave again. And she trusted him. Right? For the most part, she did actually trust that he'd be back, she just wasn't sure she was willing to let him back into her heart. She didn't actually remember walking to the kitchen she was so caught up in her thoughts. Robotically, she filled the percolator and sat it on the stove, a slave to her morning routine she barely noticed the stack of letters neatly bound on the counter. The single, loose paper on top drew her in, she fingered its delicate edges as she took in the meticulously printed words:
My dearest, Veronica,
I know we left things unsettled last night. Yes, we both said many things but I can tell you do not trust my actions, or intentions. I can hardly begrudge you this; I would hold onto that anger as long as I could. It's been your fuel, I get it. But please, please, for your sake, let me shoulder my share of the blame and allow me to make this up to you.
I saw the box in the back of the Phantom, I suppose I have your compulsive tendencies to thank for its chronology; it looks like I have a lot of reading to do myself this weekend. This is every letter I wrote you while I was deployed. If ever you thought I left because my love for you was waning, these letters will surely make you realize that was never the case. I have always, always loved you, and I'm afraid it is my burden that I always will.
These days apart will seem like an eternity I fear, I know that I've only been back in your life a few days but I swore I would never let you out of my sight once I found you again. I suppose it was me who was truly found in all this, and while I know I am still working towards being that better person, I know that the only life I want to lead is with you.
I'll be home before you can miss me again. I promise.
All my love,
L