So, people are actually reading this and reviewing, and it's pretty flippin' awesome. Many thanks to those who've dropped a line, it's so nice hearing all your thoughts. Again, thank you, thank you thank you!
27 November 1945
Logan Echolls was alive. And happy about it. He had spent the last five days re-establishing his life and he could not wait to start living. Los Angeles was vibrant and vivacious, even dealing with the never-ending succession of lawyers and paperwork his mother set up couldn't dent his spirts. Lynn may not have been a great many things, but she was an exacting and concise businesswoman, especially when it came to what she felt she owed her son. Her father had instilled his methodical business acumen in her when she was young, there was a reason the Lesters hadn't lost too much in the crash, and being the only biological grandchild, Logan came into an uncontested fortune by simply turning eighteen. She and her team ensured that if, or when, Logan came back he would be able to seamlessly transition back into his old life. Perhaps while 'dotting i's and crossing t's' made for the restoration of his financial security, it did fuck-all in regards to the thing he hoped to mend most. He depressed the accelerator, hands gripping the steering wheel methodically as he turned down the road that leads him home.
He was going back to HIS house, in HIS car, had access to monumental amounts of money that were all legally his, and had nothing to do with his father. If he was lucky, which he was starting to think he might actually be, he would never see Aaron again. Because, if he was totally honest, he just might kill him and Logan had no intention of going to jail. And though he was now bolstered by independence, none of these things compared to the happiness he felt at the thought of getting back to her.
As he pulled up the drive-way he was surprised to see the Stud. He parked in the garage, thinking he had to familiarize himself better with Veronica's schedule. Had he known she'd be home he would have left LA much earlier. He was walking down the hallway, intending to drop his jacket in his room when he heard the radio blaring from the great room. Curiosity getting the better of him, he meandered away from his destination and made his way toward the heart of the house. He saw nothing, only heard the radio. That's what he noticed the French doors, the ones that lead out to the patio, were wide open. With quickened steps he crossed the floor in seconds, his eyes searching the patio itself and seeing nothing.
Her name was on his lips as noticed her form on the beach steps, bottle laying in the sand at her feet. He sucked in a sharp breath and quietly descended the stairs. If she noticed his approach, she didn't say anything, she simply stared at the water, transfixed.
"Well, I can't say I expected to come home to this," Logan drawled as he scooped the bottle from the ground, gingerly fingering the label on the nearly empty bottle of scotch. "Day drinking the good stuff didn't know you had it in you, Mars."
She looked at him without turning her head. From the corner of her eye, she could see the bottle make his way to his lips before handing it back to her. She hadn't been drinking, not much anyway, and not for no reason.
"Didn't you hear, Echolls?" she questioned emphatically. "That's what the women in my family do. Any time we feel particularly sad or lonely or anything, we drink. And then we run. If the pattern holds true I'll be out of your hair in just a few short weeks." She toasted the ocean and fully turned to look at him before partaking her libation.
"Come on, Ronnie," he reached the short distance between them and retrieved the bottle from her grasp. "You are so much stronger than that."
"Oh, and you know this how?" she challenged. Scoffing in response, Logan shook his head and drank another swig from the bottle.
"Look what you've been through, Veronica! How could you ever doubt your strength?" The sincerity in his eyes stole her breath, she looked away quickly, hoping he couldn't see how his very proximity affected her. After a couple of deep breaths she looked back, the love shining in his eyes was mirrored by the questions in hers.
"I was only strong because I had to be, Logan. There were no other options." The words came out resolute but hollow.
"You had other options. But they would have taken you down the same path your mom was on. And how easy it could have been, Ronnie. You were, probably, scared and lonely and…" His voice trailed off as his emotions betrayed him, the guilt he felt amplified by her proximity. The first tear slipped past his eye unnoticed. "There aren't enough words in the universe to express to you how sorry I am. I don't know if my being here would have changed anything that happened, but I know you wouldn't have been alone. God, Veronica, I never wanted you to be alone." The tears freely cascaded down his cheeks, hers sat, brimming in her bright blue eyes.
"I wasn't alone, Lo. I mean yes, I had a rough go of it for a while. Where there was a brief time when it was just habit keeping me going. And there was always this kind of hope that the next day would bring me good news," she paused and laughed. "That good news took its sweet time. In the meantime, I put all my energy into finding out what happened to me. Sometimes I wish I didn't know, especially since I'll never be able to prove it, just knowing that he's out there make me sick. That pushed me through those dark times, you know? There was no chance in hell that I could let him win, I survived and I would keep surviving. Then Dick and Wallace came back and I really wasn't alone anymore. By then I had already come so far, looking back just wasn't an option. I owed it to our baby, to myself, to be better; to be strong enough that when or if the next time came…I could be strong enough…that I could protect…"
"Hey, hey," Logan grabbed Veronica's hands and held them tightly in his. She wanted to pull them away, desperately, the electricity she had felt when their bodies touched was more than her senses could handle. This was the most physical contact they had had since the day at the train station, and while she hated how her body responded to him, she had to admit she missed these feelings most. There was nothing in the world quite like being on the receiving end of Logan's affection. He was relentlessly passionate and had this way of putting everything he felt into every touch, and when he loved you as much as he loved Veronica, every nerve ending in her body stood on end when there was contact between them. She swallowed deeply as she pulled her hands, still entwined with his, to her lap. "What you said right there proves you will never, EVER, be like her. Even if you decided to get sloshed every now and again. You put our child, who will never know this world and children you have yet to even have ahead of yourself. How could you think you were like her? You've never walked away from anything in your life, Veronica Mars. You're amazing. And I promise you, Aaron Echolls will get his. On my life, Ronnie, he'll pay." He wasn't sure if it was real or because of the liquor, but at that moment, he would have sworn she was leaning into him or maybe he was leaning into her, and before he could figure it out, a loud groan erupted from the ambiguous shape on the beach. The sound startled Logan enough he lost the tenuous grip he had on Veronica's hands and absently played with the cuff of his jeans to mask the ache the loss of contact caused.
Happy to be free of the moment that seemed to be mounting between them, Veronica pointed toward the mass.
"I did not put that dent in the bottle myself," she said matter-of-factly. "Dad's had a rough day." Another groan came, this one louder and accompanied by flailing arms, as he flopped around trying to flip over.
"I'll say," Logan said with quiet amusement, a smirk settling on his lips.
"I took him to the cemetery," she said quietly. He looked at her questioningly seeing her face shift, sorrow steeling her features as her eyes turned sympathetically toward him. "Cliff didn't make it."
"Where was he?" Logan asked thickly. Cliff had always treated him well, like family. He relentlessly teased him, exuded pride when he did well and threatened his life if he ever hurt Veronica. Deep down Logan had always kind of wished his dad would have been more life Cliff and the thought of never hearing his voice again, chipped at the tattered edges of his heart.
"Belgium. He was in the Ardennes. Just after Christmas."
"To Cliff," he mirrored Veronica's earlier action and toasted the ocean, taking a much larger swig than he did the first time. She snatched the bottle back and held it to her lips but before she could imbibe, the doorbell chimed. Ceaselessly.
"Who could that be?" She asked, looking toward the house. Logan smiled broadly, he stood and offered her his hand, his eyebrows raised excitedly.
"Ah, that would be your surprise," placing her hand in his, she allowed him to help her stand only because she was inebriated enough she was afraid of stumbling. She told herself. It had nothing at all to do with the fact he always over-compensated when he did this. That she had always stumbled forward into his chest, his large hands settling at her waist to keep her on her feet. Which is exactly what happened. She breathed deeply, letting the scent and the feel of him wash over her, and for just a moment she could feel her resolve slipping. His arms braced her to him, tightening as he took in the feeling of her, words of adoration dying on his tongue as he felt her stiffen in his embrace. He swallowed and pulled away from her, effectively breaking contact before he could make too big a fool of himself.
"A surprise you say," she said coyly. "Lead the way, Echolls!" He managed a tight smile, before turning up the stairs, Veronica following a couple steps behind, desperately trying to force the façade back into place, he couldn't know how close he'd come, how easy he could make it. There was too much at stake and he made it dreadfully easy to fall back into old patterns, especially when all she'd dreamt about for years was doing that very thing. But, it turns out, hearts do not heal in a week.
By the time Veronica made her way through the dining area, Logan was directing a veritable litany of deliveries through the house. There were large couches for the great room, tables and lamps to match, and a new state of the art stereo system. She noticed more furniture going toward the guest suite and back den, and as she made her way toward the kitchen, she saw it.
"Is this?" She questioned, practically running into the dining room as Logan came up beside her. He nodded. Her fingers ran across the highly polished wood, the smile playing on her lips was electric to him. He could only imagine what was running through her head. "How?" was all she could manage.
"Well, if I recall correctly, someone loved the dining room set at my parent's house in Los Angeles. This place really needed to be refurnished, especially if you want to continue having big family dinners with all our friends," he winked. "So when I heard this was in storage, I called my mother's lawyer. Having a Ruhlmann in storage is a crime unto itself."
"Ah, and justice has been served by bringing it here?"
"Maybe not justice, per say, but penance?"
"Did you really go to LA just to get furniture? That seems extreme, even for an Echolls."
"Ha. No. That was not the sole purpose of my venture."
"Do you care to elaborate or am I just to start making assumptions, because let me tell you, I've been picturing the situations you could have been in for almost four years, and I have quite the imagination."
"Clearly. What have I done to raise the alarm today?" She stared at him obstinately. He really hadn't done anything but bring back furnishings for his house. HIS house, the words rang through her head, he hadn't done anything that required her to lash out at him.
"Nothing, I'm sorry. I've been here so long I forget it's not actually mine. You do whatever you want."
"This," he said, motioning around a full house, "is not about me. It's about making this place feel like home, for all of us."
"Logan, now that my dad is back, and once he gets back on his feet, we'll go."
"No!" he added only a bit too quickly. "There's no reason for you to leave, Ronica. Even if you hate me forever, this is your home now too. And maybe when you're feeling up to it, we can go shopping together, get anything you want for the place."
"That's not necessary. Your mother made sure I have been well compensated for my time and work here. I can get the things I want but I've been saving, you know, for a house…" she paused for a moment and rejoined, "but maybe I'll go for a new car instead, dad will need his own vehicle anyway." For the first time since he'd been back his smile reached his eyes, the light emanating from his very core.
"Look, I know I can't buy my way back into your life, Veronica, but I want you to know that taking care of you is the only thing that matters now."
"Logan, I don't need to be taken care of. Some days are hard, yes, but I've taken care of myself just fine." She said, her defenses snapping up around her.
"You know that's not how I mean it Veronica. I just want, I need you to know that you're not alone anymore. You can count on me," she snickered. "I know it'll be a long road but I'm willing to take that journey. Please?" She looked at him sadly, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she stepped away from the table.
"It's a beautiful gesture. All of it. And I swear Logan, I am trying, it's just all too fresh. You're back, and I've barely had a chance to wrap my head around it. I just need to process, I need time." He nodded solemnly and her heart couldn't help but ache for him. Closing her eyes tightly, she turned away, moving towards her bedroom away from him.
"Wait, you don't think the furniture is your surprise, do you?" She stopped. "The house was too empty, and if we're going to live here I want it to be, homey, at least."
She looked back over her shoulder, her eyes flitting toward him in irritation.
"So?" He cocked his head toward the door. She stood a beat and shook her head in resignation as she walked towards the front of the house. Following a step behind, Logan shoved his hands in his pockets and cast his eyes to the ground. He knew she was going to love it, and hate it, all at once. Maybe hate him even more.
Add another tally there, Echolls.
When he stepped outside he was met with the reaction he had expected.
"What is that?" She swung around to look at him, eyes ablaze with anger, surprise and as much as she didn't want to admit it, excitement.
"Surprise?" He tried, and failed, to look shameful. The happiness glowed on him as if it were the midday sun, he knew she was ecstatic, it all made her heart a little racy.
"This is…it's, it's too much Logan!"
"How do you know that from back here? Why don't you take a closer look?" He walked passed her, veering around to the passenger side of the new Lincoln Continental convertible that sat in the driveway, he presented his gift with a grandiose flourish of his hands.
Reluctantly she walked up to the driver's side, the chrome and white leather interior would have been exactly what she picked. She hated how much she loved it. She wouldn't accept it, it was as simple as that. Her eyes narrowed, locking with Logan's across the car.
"What makes you think, for one second, that I would take this?" He mulled it over a second and shrugged.
"I knew you wouldn't. That's why it's already in your name, so, it's on you if you want to get rid of it. The Stud, too." He could feel her seething, it wasn't often that he bested Veronica Mars and he couldn't help but gloat. Her jaw was clenched, hands constantly being made into fists and relaxed, yeah, he won this round. He spun away from the car and walked to her side, fetching the keys from his pocket, he slipped them into her disinclined hand.
"Answer me this," she called as he strode toward the house. "Why did it have to be yellow?"
He turned, laughing his answer interrupted by a booming voice from inside.
"Veronica? When did we get couch…es?"
"Time to face the inquisition, Echolls."
"Are you not coming? "
"Nope," she said, popping the 'p'. "This one is all you. I think," she opened the car door, "I'm going to take a drive. Even if I do think this is completely unacceptable." She winked at him and he couldn't help but beam as he motioned her off.
"Take the long way. I got this." She smiled back at him, her face awash in appreciation and gratitude. She mouthed thank you to him before she pulled away. He coyly nodded as he turned back towards the house, feeling lighter than he could have ever hoped to.
13 December 1945
The weeks passed quickly, as they usually did before a holiday. While Veronica had told Logan she hadn't read his letters, she lied. She had spent the entirety of the weekend he'd been gone reading, re-reading, committing passages to memory, trying to absorb his every experience and share in his pains, his triumphs, to feel everything that he wanted her to know. And again she sat on her bed, the letters she'd been most affected by, strewn across the bedspread, each watermarked by tears she could not hold at bay. The last letter, the one she hadn't read yet, lay prone just under her fingertips. She gently ran her fingers around its crisp edges, the letter clearly not having seen the spoils of war, and for some reason that fact scared her more than the others.
Tonight was the night. Christmas was under two weeks away and since she was actually really looking forward to it this year, she was hoping that if she and Logan could just get all of their cards on the table, maybe, just maybe they could start working toward an easier friendship. Not that it had been difficult, if anything, it was quite the opposite. The banter came too easily, the casual touching was natural, they'd been affecting each other's orbits for so long it was hard not to get swallowed up by the fact the other was merely there again. She needed to get past the fact that every time he accidentally brushed up against her, her knees shook, or that the force of their eyes locking had the ability to steal the air from her chest, she groaned whenever he caught her from the corner of his eye. There was this look he used to give her, this primal, longing glance that had the ability to shift her entire world right off its axis. She was certain he never knew the effect it had on her then, if he had, surely he wouldn't be so cruel to employ it against her. Right?
She threw herself back on the pillows, holding the letter in front of her face as if looking at it were the same as reading whatever was inscribed inside. With a heaving breath, she slid her nail under the sealed edge of the envelope, her last step towards the end of this chapter peeked its way from beneath the torn edge. She pulled the pages from their confines and nervously began to read:
Up until this moment I thought I had known sadness. The entirety of my young life was nothing more than a series of let-downs, hidden by the veneer of fame and success, one that I could never measure up to. It wasn't until that Sunday morning all those years ago when I saw you on the beach, my entire world turned upside down.
Now, being the twelve-year-old lothario I thought myself, I was sure you'd be eating out of the palm of my hand in no time. And then you laughed. Not that shy, cute demure giggle I elicited later in our relationship, but a guttural guffawing that struck something lit me like a match from the inside. I was so angry; how dare she deny me? That led me to hit on Lilly, to your abject horror, and my delight. She played along, of course, because Lilly likes the limelight, but she knew it was for show even then. By the end of the day, you had basically written me off the world and cursed Lilly's hair to fall out.
I can still see you and Duncan walking ahead of us, your arms crossed angrily across your chest, at which point I believe I made some snide comment, provoking the most unexpected reaction. I can't begin to tell you how much more I appreciate your right hook now. I think for anyone else, a relationship that's foundation rested on physically responding to insensitive taunting would probably fail before it even began, but not us, Mars. No girl had ever told me no. No girl ever stood up to me.
No one ever affected me like you did.
From that instant, I knew. God, Veronica, I knew I never wanted another woman in my life. You became my best friend, my confidante, the one person I was never ashamed to be myself around. You made me feel important and protected and loved, even before I convinced you to be my girlfriend. You accepted every part of me. You knew about Aaron, and how he treated, well, everyone. And anytime I thought I brought it on myself, or that I had deserved it, you stood up for me. To me. You stood up for me to him, to my mother and sister and anyone who ever tried to say anything against me. Even if it was true. You made me want to be a better person, Veronica. I knew then and know now that you deserve so much more than what I could have ever offered. The boy I was, he was the most fortuitous person in this universe, but he never earned that place by your side. And maybe even now, the man that I have worked so hard to become hasn't warranted that distinction either, but I will spend the rest of my days on this earth trying.
I would never expect your forgiveness. I walked away from you and even though neither of us could know what would've happened, I will never forgive myself. I'm the one who's responsible for what happened to you. And I can't take that I hurt you like that. I can't take that I hurt you when all I want to do is protect you.
Nothing I can do, or say, could ever make this right. What happened to you…I don't have the words or perhaps, I don't want to commit them to paper. Incrimination and all that. I picked up more than a few things from your dad over the years.
I don't think he was going to tell me, especially about Aaron's complicity, apparently I have a temper. Who knew being trapped in a floating steel city limit one's opportunity for lashing out? And while Logan Echolls has always been able to schmooze and pay his way out, Lonnie Ackles would be locked up in the brig. Getting back to you with an honorable discharge was more the direction I had been headed in before I had even run into your father. Surprisingly, I learned to be patient and dutiful, mostly. Being a Marine was seventy percent training, twenty percent purely visceral reaction and ten percent dumb luck. I surely had my percentages transposed, we both know numbers were never really my thing. I just knew I had one objective. Survival. Get my men through, get me through and get us all back home.
In war you learn, though, no one really ever gets to go 'home again'. And while things may look it you know pretty well that nothing is actually going to be the same. No matter where or who you are. But this, the reality of what you've had to go through on your own. It's another fucking shit storm. Emotional landmines instead of tactical ones. Verbal bullets and barbed words. Just please, don't hold it back from me. I want to feel what you feel. I want to know what is going on inside your head, please, let me in. Let me be there for you now, like I should have been this whole time.
There's a whole stack of letters here that prove you were never far from my mind or heart. I know if only I had sent one. I can't tell you how many times I nearly did add another tally in the column marked regrets. Veronica, I have so many regrets.
I know I have no right to ask for another chance. I gave up all hopes of a future together when I left you at our prom. FUCK! I left you standing outside of our prom, fucking pregnant, for your own good!
You were pregnant.
And you would both be okay if I hadn't been t the father. You probably would have never even been in that situation if you had been dating someone else. You were too smart for that Veronica, I should have been stronger, but I wasn't and I let us both down. I let our child down. A child I never knew existed and this sadness inside of me, I didn't know anything could feel like this. It feels like my heart is burning out of my chest and I can't for the life of me catch my breath, my throat is raw like I've swallowed razor blades and there's this heaviness, like an anchor that just sits in my stomach.
Fuck, Ronnie, if it hurts me this badly…
I'm coming home. To you. For you. For us.
I have no delusions, though, you're not just going to leap into my arms and let me back into your life the moment you see me.
Hate me for as long as you need to. Just, please, give me one chance. I'll only ask for the one. I know I don't deserve even that, but please, I know you loved me in the same vein and I owe you so much. So much more than you could ever know.
It was him. Every word, the cadence, it screamed Logan Echolls. And while he had been direct across the hall for weeks now it was the first time she felt HIM with her. She held the pages close to her chest as she softly cried. The tears leaked from the corners of her tightly closed eyes, the smiles and smirks his letter had affected replaced by the staggering realization that the man who strode back into her life, really was still that boy she fell in love with. His letter casually bounced between heartbreaking sorrow and cheek, it was classic Logan deflection. It was really, really him.
And she cried, quite a bit more than she wanted to, but she could feel the stirring of hope in the pit of her stomach and uttered a prayer to the powers that be, to let it last.
When she finally looked at her clock it was nearly two a.m. She sat the letter on her nightstand, wiping the tears from her face as she sat up. Glancing at the light switch on the wall, she willed it off, with no luck. She groaned and stumbled towards it, stopping in her tracks when she heard something outside of her room. Even though the noise was muffled, the urgency and panic seeped into Veronica's core. She threw her door open, pausing in the hallway to try and track its source. She took a step down the hallway, toward the great room when she heard it again, the pain resonating like a wave.
"Logan," she whispered, rushing his door and throwing herself on his bed, trying to wrap her arms around his thrashing frame. "Logan! Logan! Please, Lo! Please wake up," she managed to get under him, his head cradled against her chest, her arms tight around his torso. His movements became less erratic and his breathing started to slow back down as she held him, her lips fluttering across his forehead as she tried to soothe him. They were still for a moment as his eyes fluttered awake. He gasped, nearly jumping out of her arms in the process.
"Hey, I've got you, Logan, I've got you."
"Veronica?" He still wasn't fully awake, she could see him trying to focus, the hall light barely enough to illuminate her silhouette. "What are you doing here?"
"You were having a nightmare," he could barely hear her she said it so quietly while she flicked on his bedside lamp. He tensed as it dawned on him what he'd been dreaming about, he could feel her arms hold on to him tighter because of it and he noticed his heart seemed to be skipping important parts of its regular rhythm. She slid one arm out from under him and brushed the hair from his forehead. As her fingers traced down the side of his face he reached up and stilled her hand by capturing it with his.
"Did I wake you?" she shook her head, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as she met his eyes. "Why were you up?"
"It's not important. Do you want to talk about what your dream?" He brought their interwoven hands up to his mouth, his lips pressing against the back of her hand as he sighed. She shivered as his cool breath ran the length of her arm, the tears from earlier fighting to surface again. His eyes were closed tightly, tension furrowed his brow but she noticed his body had started to relax. "Does it have anything to do with a bayonet?" His eyes snapped open and locked with hers, they hadn't talked about any of his experiences, how did she…?
"Your dad told you," he posited. An almost imperceptible shake of her head was her only response. His uncertainty lasted only a moment as awareness dawned on him. "You read my letters." There was no question in his voice. A smile began to form and without realizing it he had rested their entwined hands on his chest, just over his heart as she nodded.
"I finished the last one tonight." She shifted slightly under his weight, bracing herself against the headboard as his eyes held her captivated. It had been almost a month that he'd been back and it was the first time she'd allowed herself to really look at him. She'd been so afraid of getting lost in his eyes; they had a force, this power over her she just couldn't control. Now, in the soft glow of the Tiffany lamp, she knew fighting was futile.
"I'm so sorry, Ronnie," the tears filled his eyes, the liquid amber burning through to her very soul.
"No, Logan, not now. We're talking about you," she insisted a she felt the tears well in her eyes. "We have the rest of our lives to talk about us. Right now, I want to know what happened to you. Please?"
The rest of our lives? I said that, didn't I? I wonder if he caught it…oh yeah, he did. God, those eyes. Shit. So much for playing it cool, Veronica.
"We should really revisit that slip there, but I'll let it go for now." The blush creeping up her neck annoyed her, he would have to make a big deal of it. He dropped her hand and pulled himself from her lap, sitting back against the headboard next to her. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and when it dropped between them, she took it and laced her fingers with his, giving him a shy smile, urging him on. Squeezing her hand, he tried to draw strength from it, took a deep breath and continued on.
"We were on Peleliu, it's this shitty little island in the middle of the ocean. Miserably hot and humid, my very own slice of Hell. It completely entrenched with Japanese soldiers, they had this ridiculously elaborate cave and tunnel system, and at first, nothing we did touched them. It was bloodbath after bloodbath, stalemate after stalemate. We were about a month and a half in," he swallowed thickly as she scooted closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder as he spoke. "My unit hooked up with some replacements, and who is among their ranks but Casey Gant."
Biting her lip, she tries to push down the inevitable dread rising in her chest. Logan's free hand anxiously pulls at his hair, he tries to will the words out but they just don't seem to come. Instead, a sob breaks free, and for only the second time in his adult life, he completely breaks down. Veronica's arms wrap around him instantly as the pain pours from his heart.
"He died, Veronica! In my fucking arms! I am alive right now and Casey, well his parents got a shiny new flag! I'm sure that takes the sting out of losing your child." It was when Veronica flinched beside him that his heart leaped into his throat, the impact of what he had said rippled through him like an aftershock.
"They got a flag…" He opened an eye, as they'd instinctively closed awaiting a slap that never came, and let out the breath he sucked in. "I got three pins in my femur, a few really pretty scars and an unquenchable desire to see your father's head on a platter." His head shook in agreement. "Logan, there was nothing you could have done, not for Casey, not for me, and it's okay. None of the blame lies on you."
"But why? If I couldn't save him, and yet I lived, how isn't in my fault? Did it have to be one of us, when it could have been neither?"
"Or it could have been both! You know that's not how it works, Logan. As much as we'd like to strip life down to its most base equation, it never balances. It's not meant to. Some things just don't add up." He noticed the resignation seep into her voice. For so long she felt the same way if her child had had to die, why couldn't she have gone too? Why just one? It took her a long time to let go of the guilt, the majority of it, there was a piece she could never truly be free of even if she knew it was irrational.
"Don't you remember, Mars?" she quirked her eyebrow inquisitively. "I was never any good at math." She felt the smile tugging the corners of her lips. Logan's shy smile bloomed fully into a grin as he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her even tighter to him.
"Yes, Echolls, words were definitely more your area of expertise," she tilted her head, looking up at him, his eyes intensely taking in her every move. She was holding her breath and didn't even realize it until he spoke again.
"It wasn't my only area of expertise." Before her brain could register what he'd said, his lips were on hers. Any surprise or opposition Veronica felt was instantly seared away as his hand snaked up through her hair and held her firmly to him. She melted into him, the years of anger and hurt ebbed away leaving only shadows on her heart. There was little tenderness in this kiss, it was instinctive, passionate and longing. Everything they had wanted to express for so long, but could never find words for. When Veronica had gone into her bedroom that evening to read his letter, she never assumed she'd end up in his arms, in his bed, his lips on hers. Right where she belonged, and even if she wasn't quite ready to admit it, the only place she ever wanted to be again.