To those still reading, thank you! The best, you really really are. Your reviews and support mean the world :) *And apparently I managed to post this without thanking the most amazing beta, Bondopoulos, who I could not have gotten through this chapter without. I can't believe it took me this long to realize it too, ugh, so so sorry.
29 December 1945
The neon lights flickered in time with the steps echoing down the pavement. Sharp heels clicked along the damp sidewalk; gasses thrummed through ghastly tubes, filling the darkness with echoes of promise the illuminated signs held. Keith Mars hated this part of town. Not because of what lay behind the doors of overly velvet-lined rooms, he was a man who had seen war and was privy to the baser side of man. No, it wasn't the sex that made bile rise in Keith's throat. It was the despair. The soulless looking to find themselves at the bottom of a bottle; the worthless desperately seeking affirmation in false affection; the lost, well, if he thought about it too much he'd realize they were all a bit lost. Shaking his head, he tried to refocus his thoughts on the task at hand, but he was out of his element and off his game.
"Oh and Roxie, yeah, peach that one was," Vinnie Van Lowe turned abruptly down an alley, his voice bouncing from brick to brick, the story of the contortionist reverberating with each stride. He lifted his hand to knock shave and a haircut onto the steel door, a plate slid open spilling dull red light into the alleyway.
"No." The voice boomed from the slot.
"C'mon, tell your boss Vinnie Van Lowe is here to speak with him."
"No."
"If you'll let me talk to him and explain about—"
"We're under orders here."
"Vin, forget it, let's just go." Keith ran a hand across his forehead, lifting the brim of his fedora, his exhaustion evident even in the din of the alley.
"No, Keith, this is bull—"
"Wait, Keith. Mars? No shit! We heard youse was back. Please, come in." The heavy door swung open to reveal two men, neither fitting the stereotypical mobster aesthetic aside from their penchant for suspenders, but Keith was certain that the one speaking was known for his knife-wielding skills.
"Our apologies, Mr. Mars. Had we known you accompanied Mr. Van Lowe, we'd have let you in immediately. But, as everyone knows, Vinnie Van Lowe is bad for business." The other man spoke, his voice deeper, a thick Brooklyn accent coated his words. They were led through a series of hallways before they stopped in front of an ornately woven tapestry, a white lion emblazoned on a field of red.
"Scarlett? Crimson?"Keith heard Vinnie mutter as they were patted down before the curtain drew back. Sitting at across the table was the man Keith Mars had wanted to see. He was dressed in head to toe white, his onyx and ruby rings danced in the candlelight.
"Mr. Leone, uh, thank you for seeing us."
"Keith Mars, sit at my table." The large man motioned for his butler, and the man quickly set two glasses on the table and filled them with pungent liqueur. "Drink. And please, call me Albano."
Keith and Vinnie shared a look before downing the shot of anisette and taking their seats at the crowded table.
"Grazie. Now, if we can talk about—"
"Your daughter Veronica was a welcome face at our table these past few years." Albano Leone faced Keith, his eyes, dark and deep-set, emanated an unexpected warmth. The catch, Keith suspected, was that it was left over from burning the enemies he'd left in his wake.
"Really? Huh, she didn't mention it," Keith stammered. The realization that his daughter had supped with members of one of the largest criminal syndicates weighed heavily in his stomach.
"Well, she and my Steffani worked at the factory together. She'd come home and tell my wife and I about this girl she worked with. 'Papa, her eyes,' she'd said." Placing an exaggerated hand over his heart, he continued, "Saddest eyes I'd ever seen. Poverina."
"Well, thank you for the hospitality. It was—it is—very much appreciated." Keith nodded, his eyes fixated on the empty glass in front of him. A gesticulation wavered in his periphery and his glass was full again. He muttered 'salud' before tossing back the potent liquor.
"How has she been without the factory work, and now that you have returned home?"
"She's coping. There's a lot to adjust to—going from living on your own to having two roommates, one of which, the boy who broke your heart, it's been…"
"Operatic?" Vinnie supplied.
Keith smirked slightly, silently affirming that Vinnie's choice of word was accurate.
"How you haven't taken ca—"
"Pa," the young man to Albano's right warned.
The elder man grumbled and cleared his throat, his hand pulling at his jet black goatee. "Apologies. I only meant to convey the difficulty that must lie with taking up with that codardo. It must take a very strong man—and woman—to look past such an...atrocity."
"As easy as it would be to blame Logan, it's just not his fault. Yes, he left foolishly, but he had no idea what of what the ramifications of that would be."
"You know, he's kinda dumb for a smart guy." Vinnie's mouth closed slowly upon taking in Keith's look, his adam's apple bobbing rapidly in his throat as the look forced him to remain silent.
"While that's not inaccurate, Logan was no more responsible for what happened to Veronica than she was. Trust me, I was with him for weeks on that ship and threatened his ass with the long fall many, many times. If for one second I thought he'd known about any of it, he'd be sharkbait." Keith paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "And yes, to say I don't hold some anger against him for up and leaving my daughter in such a state would be a lie. But at this point it's moot. We're here today for another reason. We're hoping for some information regarding Lynn Echolls."
"In time." With another wave of his arm, Albano signaled to several waiters. Each entered the room carrying a single dish covered with a silver lid. "Now, we eat. Mangia."
Keith and Vinnie eyed the dishes curiously before nodding their inclusion.
"I have to ask, though," Keith stilled, looking to Vinnie while pointing at the tapestry separating the massive table from the rest of the space, "Vermillion?"
"Oxblood," Mr. Leone responded, the warmth firmly extinguished from his smoldering eye.
"Heh, inspired."
Keith sat and observed the boisterous group around them, each shout and guffaw sent his nerves into a tailspin. This was going to be a very long night, and he just hoped the information was worth his spot at the Leone table.
After the three courses, desserts and more drinks than Keith should have consumed, Albano Leone turned the conversation back to business.
"So, what makes you think I have any information regarding Lynn Echolls?"
"A hunch." Keith kept his tone light, the alcohol making it easier than it should have been. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes locking with Albano's. A shiver he couldn't repress ran up his spine.
"I have nothing that can help you with that. Really. I know a guy, if that's an avenue you're interested in pursuing…"
"No, that's not really our style." Keith shook his head. Sure there was the occasional black eye and bloodied knuckle, but much more violence than that, he couldn't condone.
Albano's son's eyes raised and Keith followed their gaze as they locked on Vinnie. He couldn't help but smile at the man's obvious discomfort.
"What? I still had to get by, you know, and some cases required a little more plying."
At least he has the decency to look embarrassed, Keith thought. He shrugged and turned his attention back to the men across the table.
"Gentlemen, thank you for your time and your hospi—" Keith announced, standing to leave. Albano raised his hand, signaling for Keith to remain in his seat.
"I said I have nothing about Lynn Echolls, but I have some information about your daughter's situation that I think you might be interested in."
Keith sat ramrod straight; every trace of alcohol seemed to disappear from his being as he stared down the crime boss in front of him.
"Seems you could've lead with that," Vinnie said in obvious annoyance, anise strong and bitter on his breath. He was also silenced by a look from the younger Leone, and Keith couldn't help but wonder what exactly had transpired between the two men.
"Ah, but what fun we've had. Right, Mr. Van Lowe?" The now cold, mirthless eyes of Albano Leone were locked on Vinnie, a cruel smile crept to his before he broke, laughter spilling out of him like a flood. "I'm sorry, it's just too fun. God, look how he sweats. Keith, that's a good man you got on your side, but if he's not a damned fool, then I don't know who is."
Keith laughed humorously, his hands ringing the arms of his chair. He knew Vinnie was good man, not very good at keeping vices at bay, but not foolhardy enough to let it get him into trouble. Usually. He would get to the bottom of the Leone/Van Lowe connection, but later. Much, much later. There were far more pressing things at hand. "Agreed. Now, you said you knew something about what happened to Veronica," he prompted.
The glimmer of warmth returned to the big mans eyes and he nodded.
"It's not much more than an overheard, off-the-collar remark, but my daughter-in-law, Tia, was at that department store...uh, what's the name of it, Luca?"
"Sinclair's," he supplied.
"That's the one! So the Sinclair girl and a friend of hers were talking at the perfume counter or sommat, and Tia overheard her say something about Logan being home. She mentioned how pissed Aaron was that he chose—and these are his words, well, her words...not my words, anyway—something along the lines of 'that damaged slut being chosen over him.'" Albano held up his hands defensively.
Keith knew his face was red, he felt red all over. This was literal blood boiling; he was enflamed, rage and disgust coursing through his veins.
"Wait, how would Madison Sinclair know anything about what happened at the house?" Vinnie asked suddenly, breaking Keith from his rapidly declining train of thoughts.
"Now there's the investigator, we were so used to simply seeing the dick, Mr. Van Lowe. Good luck."
As they stood to leave, Keith turned back, nodding his appreciation.
"And Mr. Mars, when you get Mr. Echolls, please drop by. We'd love to have him for dinner." The cold, cruel, glass-like stare Keith had seen earlier was back, magnified by a malicious glint that Keith knew reflected his own. He nodded again and made his way out of the smoky room, back into the night. Hopefully he'd be able to catch Logan before he and Veronica left.
"Listen, just keep Mac close," Logan paused. He couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up at Dick's response. "All right, all right, I won't say anymore, just keep your eyes open. And thanks, no, I know it just means a lot that I can do this for her...yeah...yeah, you know what? I don't have to take this. Goodbye, Dick." His laughter carried with him to Veronica's bedroom, her suitcase open on the bed as she packed for their getaway.
"Everything okay?" she questioned. He nodded and sat at the edge of her bed, the only disruption the sheets had incurred was that suitcase and his current presence. He smiled at the thought, and although nothing more intimate had occurred, the fact she had let him comfort her—hold her through the night—was a dream come true. He chuckled at the thought. How easy it had been to fall right back in love with her, into sharing secret smiles and lingering touches, to feeling like a teenager all over again.
"You really want this, to go away with me?" His voice was soft. Unsure what hers would hold, he cast his eyes to the floor.
"Logan," she dropped the dress in the bag and walked toward him, his face lifting toward hers as her small hand coming to rest just above his knee, her body sliding onto his lap with ease. "As much as it pains me to admit it, the prospect of leaving Neptune with just about anyone sounds heavenly. But with you, not only do I get away from Aaron, I get to spend five glorious days doing absolutely nothing but getting to learn everything about the new, possibly improved, Logan Echolls."
"Do you really think I'm that different?" There was uncertainty in his voice as he held her close, he couldn't help but breathe her in as she swung the hair off her shoulder. Her hand was warm on his face, thumb sweeping up his jaw, the soft smile at the corner of her mouth quirked to unabashed affection.
"Yes. And no. You have always been strong, how could you not have been? But you never believed that you were. I think even you can see it now, the man that always lie just beneath the surface. I saw you when Aaron showed up. For a minute he had you, and I watched it, the fire rise from within and consume you. You burned so brightly, Logan, I could feel it burn through me, and I knew." His hand covered hers for a moment before moving to cradle her cheek. He wasn't sure who moved first, just that before he could mentally register it, her mouth was on his, sure, passionate, laced with lustful promise he wasn't sure he could bear. He reluctantly pulled away from her mouth, his hand sliding through her hair, twirling the flaxen tendrils that slipped through his fingers.
"Veronica, I, um…" he shifted her in his lap, breathing deeply as he pulled further away. "I don't want you to think that I have any expectations for this weekend. I've told you, just being with you is what I want."
Smiling, she pulled his head nearer and placed a soft kiss to his forehead. "Perfect."
They left Neptune as the sun rose, the silver Rolls Royce chasing it's ascent along the PCH. The sky was decidedly red, which Veronica knew did not bode well according to both Logan and her father. The two of them had been especially strange before she'd left with Logan. She'd taken note of conversation that stopped abruptly when she'd walked in the room. Her father had been eyeing her as if she were made of glass, fragile and susceptible, and she didn't like it. And when she had called him on it, he'd turned her questioning into yet another lecture on mistakes past. She'd known better and took it for the warning it was. Something was different—it was in the air, swirling, suffocating... waiting. But she didn't want to think about that right now while in the car with Logan. She pushed it out of her mind, enjoying the ride, taking in the coast, breathing in every minute she and Logan were together. And just like that, they were in San Diego. Sooner than she'd expected, as she'd been so lost in the beauty of the moment—of carefree freedom that she hadn't experienced in so long.
Reaching The Lafayette Hotel, Logan pulled the Phantom in front, passing his keys to the valet and instructing the bellboy to see to their bags. Offering his arm, he and Veronica strode up the steps to the lobby, the large, white columns beckoning their entrance into the grand hotel.
Logan spoke to the man at the desk, confidently leaning against the counter in his olive button up shirt. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows and his khaki pants hung perfectly from his waist. She couldn't stop her lip from sneaking between her teeth as she took him in. Of course he glanced back at the exact moment. She saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes and her cheeks flushed in response. It was as though he could read her most impure thoughts. He licked his lips, his tongue sliding between his teeth and lingering just a moment before he shook his head and turned back to the concierge.
The intimacy of the moment only intensified her feelings. Embarrassed, and slightly breathless, Veronica turned her attention away from Logan and to the expanse of the lobby. Children read and played on the overstuffed furniture as their parents waited for their cars or checked out of their rooms. She smiled brightly. Despite her best efforts to the contrary, she just couldn't keep the light from emanating from her core.
"Veronica? Veronica Mars?"
And just like that the bubble burst. The light she hadn't been able to suppress a moment ago was extinguished with those nine syllables. She knew better than to believe that something could actually go as planned, and she was instantly reminded of her father's warning. Why wouldn't it be actually worse than I thought? Just breathe, Veronica. She hesitantly turned toward the unexpected voice. "Deputy, what a surprise," she politely intoned, her arms purposefully crossed in front of her.
"What brings you to San Diego, Miss Mars?" The man smiled shamelessly, his dimples deepening at every syllable he uttered.
Veronica cocked her head to the side, gauging the man who stood before her. "Taking a much-needed break."
"Wow, that's new. It seems to me you spent the last two years being nothing but busy, and now you take breaks."
"Look, whatever you think could have happened between us, never, ever would have. Regardless of how busy or not my schedule was."
"Come on Veronica, how many people would be willing to overlook—"
The tension that rolled through her nearly sucked the breath from her lungs until she felt a warm arm envelope her waist, returning her heart's pace to normal.
"Is everything okay, Ronnie?" Logan asked, pulling her close to his side. She shivered at his touch, melting into him.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "Logan Echolls, meet Deputy Leo D'Amato, one of Neptune's finest." She pushed the last part through clenched teeth. Buttressed against Logan, she felt renewed, energized...alive. Her eyes burned, the light re-kindled and it took everything in her not to demand that she and Logan keep running, as long as they're together...and alone.
"Logan Echolls? Wow. I guess it's good you're not dead."
Leo always had a way with words, Veronica thought. But it was Logan who spoke up.
"Yeah, we seem to think so," he said, kissing her temple as the hand at her waist pressed her even more tightly to him. The maître d' appeared behind Leo and beckoned Logan to follow him. Logan nodded his acknowledgement and then looked at Veronica. "It appears our table is ready. Are you hungry, beautiful?"
"Mmm, famished." She smiled as she looked up and pressed her lips against his, pulling away only at the exaggerated throat clearing from the interloper.
"Well, Deputy, it was nice to meet you." Logan extended his hand, which Leo hesitantly took."If you'll excuse us." Logan gracefully turned them away from the flummoxed law enforcement officer, leading her through the restaurant to their secluded table in the back.
Veronica was surprised when Logan didn't ask any questions about Leo. But it was slightly disconcerting that he didn't say much at all. She'd been relieved when he'd come to her rescue, but now, as he perused the menu in silence, he seemed distant. She was pondering how to bring up the topic herself when the waiter came to take their order. Logan ordered for himself, and smiled as she ordered, but then quickly excused himself, leaving Veronica alone at the table. She sipped at her water and contemplated what he might be up to. He was gone a long time, too long. Worried he'd get himself into trouble, Veronica made up her mind that she'd go after him. She gathered her purse and stood up only to see him striding toward her, his expression unreadable.
"Logan, is everything o—"
"Food's here," he interrupted, greeting the waiter and digging into this meal.
Veronica, following his lead, decided to take advantage of his desire to put off this awkward conversation.
When their meal was complete, Logan turned toward her and held out his hand. "Walk with me?" he asked, his eyes trained on her in that way that always made her week in the knees.
She managed a nod, taking his hand as he lead her through the restaurant and through the doors and past the walked the grounds twice, and while it was warmer than in was in Neptune, it wasn't by much. When they came back through the hotel, Logan went back to reception desk and took the object proffered by the young woman behind the counter. Smiling, he sauntered back to Veronica, taking her arm again and leading out the side of the hotel, to a waiting car.
"Mr. Casablancas." The valet held the keys out to Logan and then swiftly moved to open Veronica's door.
"What's this?" she asked, sliding into the passenger side of a Studebaker. The door closed behind her with a sharp click.
"Phase two," he sing-songed as he started the car and pulled away from The Lafayette.
Her eyebrow raised in question, and Logan reached out and took her hand in his, squeezing it tightly.
"Phase two? What is phase two?" He ran his thumb across her knuckles, tracing lazy patterns on the back of her hand as they turned onto the freeway.
"Our hasty retreat."
"About that. Where are we going? I thought—"
"We're not going back to Neptune, if that's what you're wondering. No, the plan is still to get away. Far away." She pulled her hand away from his, instantly missing the warmth and comfort of his touch. She held onto every last ounce of her pride as she resisted reaching out and reclaiming his hand. Instead she wrung her own together and studied the lines of his face as she waited for him to elaborate.
"And?" Veronica questioned impatiently.
Logan huffed out an unsteady breath and she noticed his grip on the steering wheel tighten."Full disclosure?" He looked in her direction, and she didn't waver, keeping her eyes on his. She wanted answers. With a sigh, he began. "I was talking to your dad after Christmas, and if you'll recall, he wasn't too keen on me taking his 'darling daughter' away unchaperoned."
"I vaguely remember overhearing promises of separate beds and virtuous behavior," she admitted quietly, nodding her head for him to continue.
He chuckled, shaking his head as he continued. "Your eavesdropping is endearing, truly, Mars, which is why it was so difficult to actually plan any of this. It started as a simple trip to San Diego. We vetted the hotel, the staff, every possible person we may come in contact with with the few days we had. But, I don't know, something still wasn't sitting right. I couldn't place it—I still can't—but something had be done."
"And that something is?"
"Well, it evolved from having multiple fake reservations at different hotels in the area. That was the first iteration. But after your dad got home last night...I don't know how to explain it, I just knew we couldn't stay in San Diego. So I called Dick and Wallace, and we went to for drinks, and basically set up an elaborate ruse that we could employed if someone were to try and thwart our plans."
"A ruse? You and Wallace and Dick crafted a fool-proof escape route in case we got interrupted?" Veronica asked incredulously.
"Ouch. Yes. We are perfectly capable of duplicity, but only for the greater good, it turns out. Anyway, the plan: If I felt like there was any risk—a modicum of discomfort—I would call Dick, and he and Mac would come take our place at the Lafayette, allowing us a chance to get to our next destination before anyone even knew we'd left the city."
"So, you're telling me that Dick and Mac are driving to San Diego now?"
"Yes."
"They just willingly went along with your plan? How'd they even know when to leave?" His eyes shot to her then back to the road. She simply stared ahead while she tried to take in the gravity of what her friends had done for her.
"It was partially Dick's idea, remember, and Mac was more than willing to get away with her fiancé. And I called them from the hotel before we ate. By our eight o'clock reservation we'll have long since arrived in San Francisco."
"San Francisco?"
"Yep. I'd hoped we'd be able to get through the day without having to escape out the side door, but whatever I have to do to keep you safe."
"What tipped you off?"
"The deputy."
Veronica froze. "Leo? No! I mean sure, he's a little off, but he's harmless…" Her voice wavered, as she realized that she didn't entirely believe what she was saying. When she'd first met Leo, he'd been kind; he'd occasionally drop by the office under the pretense of a case and try to take her out. There had been a time where she'd considered accepting him simply to prove to herself she could be with someone else, but the thought of someone else's lips on her had made her stomach turn. No, it wouldn't have been fair to either of them. But surely Leo wouldn't stoop so low just to get back at her for a few dismissed dates. Up until very recently, she'd worn her loneliness like a shroud, shielding herself behind it and yielding it like a sword. While he'd become more and more agitated by her refusals, she'd never been afraid.
"Okaay, maybe he is," Logan said cautiously, "but his boss is not."
"I will give you that; Don Lamb is a piece of work. He's effectively managed to cater only to the bourgeoisie and turn them against the working class. And this is only his first term."
"Imagine that power incubated over time. He's a bad guy, Ronica. He's a plant. He'd been a lowly bodyguard in LA for years; a peon, but he had one idea and a mouth big enough to carry him all the way to office. D'Amato may not be working for my father, but I assure you Lamb is. Deputy Leo's little crush on you is the perfect excuse to get him to spy on us. He probably thinks I've kidnapped you...after I brainwashed you of course. I'm surprised there's not an APB out yet."
Veronica laughed heartily despite her best efforts not to."I'm sure when we we get back to Neptune you'll be arrested. And probably end up in a cell with Dick." She saw the confusion cross his face and clarified, "Oh, they can't stand each other! And when Dick Casablancas takes the reservation meant for Echolls, all hell's going to break loose. What I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall." The laughter continued as Veronica carried on about Leo and Dick's various interactions over the last year, most involving alcohol and surliness. Suddenly thoughts of Leo standing under the streetlight as Dick told him she would never be with him swam to the front of her mind.
She really didn't want to think that Leo was doing this because she'd rebuffed him; she already disliked and distrusted people enough. Though, what's one more mark in the 'run away with Logan forever' column? she thought, shaking her head. That wasn't her. She didn't run. Okay, maybe she was running right now, but it was only temporary. She deserved this—this time away with the man she loved. Love. The thought struck her hard. It wasn't the first time it had popped into her head, but it had been a while. Only this was the first time she didn't try to talk herself out of it or rationalize it away.
It was impossible for Veronica not to watch Logan; he had a confidence and temerity he couldn't help but exude, and the Marine Corps had apparently done nothing to stifle it. At the airport her eyes were compelled to follow him wherever he went. There was pull—maybe everyone felt the particular rift in gravity—that was Logan Echolls, but she hoped she was the only one who'd ever recognize it for what it was. Fearful that suddenly every set of eyes at Speer Airport was on Logan, she wrapped her arms around his waist and clung tightly to his side. She felt his lips on the top of her head and he pulled her closer to him, and at that point she wasn't certain if her feet were actually still touching the floor or not.
"Ax?" A voice questioned from across the terminal. Veronica heard it first, registering the name along with a familiar shade of khaki, which happened to also be exactly what half of the patrons at this particular airfield had donned. There were servicemen—Marines especially—everywhere.
How off your game are you, Veronica? Love makes you stupid. She shook off the thought, the idea lingering only a moment longer before—
"Ax!" The voice was louder now. The steady, heavy footfalls stopped to their left, and the man who appeared looked every one of his twenty-some years, the ravages of war reflected in his eyes, deep, dark, yet somehow wholly familiar.
"Weevil?" Any of the surprise that lingered on Logan's face was quickly washed away as the young man enthusiastically shook his hand. Veronica watched the exchange; Weevil, as it were, was one of the most confident people she'd ever encountered. He had an air about him that commanded respect from everyone in the room...everyone except Logan. It's not to say there was no mutual respect between the two, more like they were equals, and the entire terminal seemed to recognize it. Clearly whatever had happened over there had raised not only Logan's rank, but also earned the respect of the men he served with.
"So, what brings you to San Diego?"
"Ah, just getting my girl out of town for a few days," his eyes, formerly anxious and frustrated, were now tinged with no small amount of relief and silently pleaded with her before he turned back to his friend. "Bunny Caufield, meet Eli Navarro."
"Pleasure, though I'm certain I heard you say Weevil, Lonnie," she smiled tightly, trying to keep her eyes from giving her away. Bunny? Really? She fought the eyeroll with every fiber of her being. As if terrible aliases are the only thing wrong with this master plan. Let's see how many people we can run into while we try to clandestinely escape!
Eli let out a low whistle and smiled charmingly."Your boyfriend thinks he's cute; he's the only one who dared call me that. He's as brave as he is stupid. I didn't even know you had a dame. Especially not one as pretty as you, miss. I can see why you kept her a secret, Ax."
"Yeah, well, I didn't talk about home much." She felt Logan's eyes on her before she looked up to meet them. Pushing down the agitation that'd been threatening to spill over for hours, she smiled and moved to rest her head against his shoulder. She could feel his deep intake of breath, and he seemed to be holding her just a little tighter as he exhaled.
"Is this home then? Or is this your out of town destination?"
"Just a stop along the way, actually. We don't live too far though."
"Wow, Ax, California boy. Who'da thunk?" The men chuckled, clearly something of a private joke passed between them. Veronica was again suddenly and painfully aware of the time they'd lost, the chasm they'd yet to bridge.
"So you're stationed here then?"
"That I am. And as soon as I get my papers, adiós!"
"Where you headed?"
"Well uh, Felix, you remember him, right?" A look passed between the two men that was fraught with a tension she couldn't place, and Veronica noticed Logan's expression darken ever so slightly as he nodded. "He's moving in with his abuela." Weevil dragged his hand across the back of his neck, the darkness had clouded his eyes too. "I couldn't let her shoulder that burden alone, especially since Felix's brother didn't make it back at all, so I figured why not? We grew up together...might as well help out where I can."
"And this newfound altruism is leading you where?" Logan asked again.
"Ah, apparently it's the most up-and-coming place in Southern California. Movie stars, moguls, the whole nine...this place has got it!"
"Sounds wonderful," Veronica blithely interjected. The confused look on Eli's face proved her sarcasm was too well hidden behind her overly enthusiastic façade.
"It won't be. Havens for the wealthy don't usually treat people of color with any dignities, or humanity. We'll see, I suppose; watch out Neptune, Eli Navarro is coming to town!" The smile Veronica had tried so hard to keep in place faltered, and Logan looked positively nauseous, but Weevil was carrying on about the life he planned to start and didn't notice that the air had been sucked from the room. She could tell that Logan was trying to figure out how to tell his friend not to do it—to get as far away from Neptune as possible—but Eli was too excited about starting his life after the war for Logan to dash his hopes.
"So are you the only guy from the squad here?"
"No way. Reyes, Jimbo and Gunney all got back a couple weeks ago. I was just after them with Tex and Rachet. Hey, if you're gonna be around, you should come back and see the guys!"
Logan looked genuinely happy with every confirmation of well-being and, despite her best intentions to the contrary, Veronica couldn't help the twinge of jealousy that flared.
She watched as Logan took on new life talking to Eli, resembling neither the boy she knew nor the man he had become. Perhaps it was truly an amalgamation of the two; the more she observed though, the more she was still unsure. His posture had relaxed to downright casual, something he rarely did even when it was just the two of them. His grip on her never wavered; he held her just as tightly to his side as he had at the hotel earlier but something in his eyes softened, a part she had never seen before, a light that had nothing to do with her.
Impossible as it seemed, she managed to keep her tongue to herself. She nodded her head at the appropriate times and smiled wistfully up at Logan, never letting more than a soft, humorless laugh pass her lips.
Twice now they'd been interrupted. All she wanted was to get to San Francisco, wrap herself in Logan and never let go. Not that she'd admitted that part to anyone else. And it wasn't like she was antsy to get him alone...okay, maybe a little. With the holidays they'd gotten a few minutes here and there, but it seemed there were always people at the house. Every interlude held the promise that had led to this day. No one will find us here, Veronica. We'll simply forget the fact I just got out of the service. Let's fly out of the airport that's practically on the Marine base. How could that possibly be a problem?
The fight she'd began to imagine grew to fever pitch. She had a response to every answer she could perceive, and he didn't stand a chance. As soon as the words got out of her head, that is. Not here though. She and Logan stood out spectacularly in the sea of khaki and green, the garb of civilians was a great big exclamation point she did not want punctuating their travels.
Although, when she looked around she realized no one had been paying attention to them, no one stared and pretended they weren't...they were simply uninterested. That's not to say they weren't being observed, of course they were, but there was no malice; it was simply appraising. Logan exuded service—his stance, his posture—he demanded respect, and it was given even at a distance. Again Veronica was reminded of their separation, this time the clarity that accompanied was blinding.
Any anger Veronica was harboring dissipated. The fight she'd carefully calculated all but wiped from her mind. Logan had brought them here, fully aware he might be recognized, knowing they'd be safest amongst people he trusted; the people who he'd made his family, the people who would return his faith in kind. She felt her heart swell. The ache ran from her fingers to her toes, the blood pounding in her ears as she forced back unexpected tears. Logan must have sensed the shift in her demeanor, as he regarded her with concerned expression. She mustered up a smile and kissed his cheek, nodding that she was okay and they could carry on.
Weevil smirked and crossed his arms across his chest, jutting his chin in Logan's direction. "How did that shoulder end up healing?"
"The shoulder's fine, my knee is fine, the bullet holes have all healed—"
"The bayonet?"
"Wicked scar, but fine."
"Dog bite?" Logan was chewing the inside of his cheek. Veronica could see him fighting to keep himself from saying or doing something he might regret.
She intervened. "Are you boys done reliving your glory days or am I going to miss my flight while you compare your manhoods?"
Weevil's eyes widened in surprise and locked with hers. She smiled cheerily as she heard Logan's deep breathing in an effort to keep from laughing. Sorry, Logan, but Bunny has left the building and Veronica wants to get this show on the damned road.
A slow smile spread across Logan's face, the one she would always associate with pride and getting her alone. "Sorry, Weevs, but my lady has spoken."
The men said their goodbyes, making plans to get together before Weevil left base and the squad scattered to the winds. Veronica smiled dutifully and managed to recall her Bunny persona, hopefully leaving Weevil with the impression of naivety and saccharine sweetness.
Boarding the plane, Bunny was purged from Veronica's mind, and during the flight, any turbulence in the air was diminutive compared to the litany of questions that tumbled through her head. No, they could not get to San Francisco soon enough.
"So, The Fairmont," Veronica said, tongue snapping the 'T'. Logan took in her expression. She appeared equal parts annoyed and impressed. From the second they'd pulled up to it's palatial expanse, through the crystal-chandeliered ballrooms and poshly decorated lobby, she'd gaped. When they took the elevator to the penthouse, she'd glared. And when the door swung open to the suite, she may have literally swooned. Richly furnished, decadently draped, and even though she lived in luxury at the Echolls mansion, he knew that it paled in comparison to the grandeur of this room.
"What? This dusty old place?" he smirked, throwing his sport coat over the back of ornately upholstered Queen Anne chair. He ran his fingers down the length of fabric, focusing intently as he took in the craftsmanship.
"So, Ax," Veronica dragged out the 'X' as if she were slicing through any existing pretense. "Any plans to re-enlist?"
Logan stilled at her words, his hand jerked away from the chair as he stood and turned to face her. "You actually think I want to go back into the Marines?" He stepped closer to her as she pulled her arms around her body. He knew the stance well. It was her default position...retreat into self and build walls. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, dislodging his coif and leaving him utterly undone.
"Maybe?" her voice was soft, words spoken just above a whisper as if unsure—perhaps a bit agitated. "I don't know Logan, it's clearly something you loved being a part of and were good at. I just don't want you to feel like you gave it up." Veronica's voice grew louder, stronger, with each word as if she believed them more when they escaped her head and reached his ears.
He couldn't believe that she thought he'd go back. He took a deep, steadying breath before he spoke. "That chapter of my life is done. Door closed, locked, bolted, chained, forever; I don't want to go back. I've proved everything to everyone I wanted to even—"
"But if in five—or even ten—years you start to question everything you gave up…"
Logan closed the gap between them and placed his hands on her upper arms, slowly running up and down their length. "Veronica, I didn't give up the Corps. I did my time; it's done. The only thing in my life I've given up was you, and I'll regret that every single day of my life. If I could do that all over again...God, things would be so different. I want—no, I need you to understand something." He lifted her chin so her eyes met his, he could feel the shiver run down her body as he tried to convey with everything he had that his words were not just that. "I left for you. So that I could come back to you a better man, and I think I have. And as foolish or crazy as it may seem, every decision I have made since I was twelve years old has been about you—about us. Our future—"
Veronica's eyes widened, the red flush of anger crept up her neck and colored her face as she pulled her body away from his touch. "Our future? You went off to war, Logan. Did you even plan on coming home? How many of those purple hearts could have easily warranted a folded flag and condolence letter? And to whose door would they have been delivered?"
Logan's hands hung limply at his sides, he dared not touch her again just yet. He could feel the tears threatening to fall, his throat was scratchy and constricted, he wasn't sure if air—let alone words—would make their way out.
The "yours" he emitted was hoarse, barely registering to his own ears, but the coldness in Veronica's eyes proved she'd heard him. Glassy and red from anger, she focused her glare directly at him, the hurt only faintly masked by the rage.
"Mine. My doorstep. Which happens to be your house now, where I'd have had to mourn losing you again." Her words stung like venom; each acid-laced syllable biting at his flesh punctuated by the tiny hand that jabbed his chest in time. Logan watched her jaw clench and nostrils flare as her arms crossed tightly in front of her.
"Jesus, Veronica! How many times can I apologize for how fucked up my leaving was? I get it. Put a neon sign that flashes 'jackass' over my head; I will gladly tout it for the rest of my life if it takes that look off your face. But I can't take it back, and I wouldn't, honestly. As damnable as the consequences have been, as long as you end up by my side, I don't care how we got here. I love you." He shoved his hands in his pockets to stop himself from grabbing her and pulling her tight. "Only you. Always you. It's how I made it out of that hell; the thought of coming back to you was my guiding light."
He noticed her bottom lip sneak between her teeth as the rigidity seemed to ebb from her body. Her eyes locked with his, warmer, softer than they were just a moment ago, but her wall was still very much intact. "What if I had moved on, Logan? What if, instead of allowing my heart to shatter, I'd resolved to forget about you?"
"But you—"
"I'm aware of what I did and didn't do. Just answer me. What would have happened?"
Logan scanned her face—her everything—searching for a clue as to what he should say.
"I don't know, Ronnie! I would have probably left Neptune forever and lived out my days as Lonnie Ackles. Maybe I would have re-enlisted then, but it's nothing we need to worry about now!"
"Until you get together with your Marine buddies and want to go back to that life."
"You're not serious, Veronica, you can't be. How many times can I—" Logan grabbed his hair again and spun around in a circle, trying to collect himself. "What can I do to prove to you that you're where I want to be?"
"You just looked so happy talking with Eli; you practically strutted down the terminal after that. How can I compete with that kind of evocation, Logan? I've never, ever, seen you look like that before tonight." The edge to her voice was razor sharp, cutting Logan to his core.
"So, what? Every time you're made even the tiniest bit aware that I was gone and a good Marine, you're going to get mad at me?" Will we ever get past this? he wondered, fingers pressed to his temples, trying to stave off the percussion building in his head. Keep it together. You just need a drink, Logan. He dropped his hands to his side and stepped around her, beelining to the bar. He scanned it's generous contents—another reason the suites were the best—until his eyes locked on his prize. As one hand reached for the bottle, the other unwittingly ended up in his pocket running his thumb over the face, up to the top, pressing the button and clicking it open. And then closing it before repeating the process until the banging in his head synched with faux-metronomes tempo he set. The ticking soothed him, or maybe it was what it represented. Holding the scotch in his hand, he stared at the bottle for a moment before setting it back down, releasing a breath that bordered on a groan.
"No, Logan, I just—"
He moved to turn back to her, but she was at his side, removing the stopper from the decanter and pouring them each a glass, her hand resting on the arm that held the watch.
"It's bullshit, Ronnie," he said raggedly. "And damn near fucking impossible. Everywhere we go, every turn will be another reminder and there aren't enough 'I'm sorrys' or 'if I coulds' in the world. I know that—I get it. But you still being angry means that everything between us was real."
Her head snapped up. "Did you doubt that?" The edge was completely gone from her voice, but the hurt that emanated broke his heart. He turned sharply to face her, face cast down, looking hopelessly small.
It was then that it hit Logan, the sound and the fury coming full circle, colliding with the sides of his brain. The cacophony of alarms sounding, the ringing bells that accompanied the realization behind her anger. Veronica Mars was afraid. Terrified, even. And as much as it killed him that he brought these fears out in her, there was a modicum of relief in knowing the next step in making things up to her. He tucked the information into the back of his mind, straightened himself up, throwing back the single malt and willed that this time, the right words came out.
"No, I never doubted that what we had was real. But we were kids, Veronica. I knew you were all I would ever want in this life, but you, my God, you could be with anyone on this planet! How could you still want to be with me...after all this time, after all this pain?"
Why is every happy occasion marred by these protracted trips down the memory lane from hell? He heard the glasses as they hit the bar top, her warm hands sliding into his now empty ones.
"Logan, you were gone—possibly dead—and all I could think was I would never be whole again. You didn't just leave me behind, you took a part of me with you," she sighed, and the tears that had been collecting in the corners of her eyes finally began to fall as she swirled the last of her drink in the crystal glass. "And I was okay at first. Honestly. I knew why you felt you had to leave. I got it then and I get it still. When I found out I was pregnant, I swear I thought everything was going to be okay. You had a piece of me with you and I...well, I had this little piece of you with me—growing, inside of me." Their hands had separated at some point, his hands now resting firmly on either side of her waist, her hands flat against his chest. He was sure she could feel his heartbeat against his ribcage. "My mom left, and that was rough, but I had so much to look forward to. Our baby, Logan…" His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her flush to him as the sobs began to rack her body.
Logan held her until the sobs subsided. The manic tears were soon replaced by slight hiccups, which faded to a soft snore. He swept her legs into his arms and carried her into one of the bedrooms. Laying her on the bed, he took off her shoes and tucked her in, kissing her on the forehead before retiring to his own room. The last thing he wanted to do was leave her alone, but they hadn't fully resolved whatever it was they'd been arguing about and he couldn't imagine she'd be too keen about waking up with him.
"Wait." At the sound of her voice, he turned back to face the bed. Veronica was still mostly asleep but managed to prop herself up on an elbow, her eyes glowing against the darkness of the room. "Don't go."
He nodded, toeing off his shoes as he made his way back to her side. She lifted the blanket enough for him to slide in next to her. "I promise, never again," he whispered, kissing her temple as she molded against him.
"Logan, what are doing tomorrow night?"
His eyebrow raised, he was almost certain she was asleep, but he answered her anyway.
"I'm taking you dancing, doll." Her happy sigh was the last thing Logan remembered before drifting off to sleep.