DISCLAIMER: Characters of Veronica Mars, the canon events of their storylines, and recognizable dialogue belong to Rob Thomas.
A/N:
Chapter 6 continues modified version of #1.18 "Weapons of Class Destruction"
Chapter 6
After leaving the parking lot at The Camelot, I drove about a block before I pulled my car over to the curb. I rested my head against the steering wheel and concentrated on steadying my breathing.
My brain was trying to sort out too many things: bomb threats, undercover agents, the boyfriend of my dead best friend had just kissed me ... I kept getting stuck there. He kissed me. Seriously! I didn't know what that was about or what I was going to do about it, but I did not have the time right now to think about it.
Just before pulling back out into traffic, I put the radio on and found a song that would help clear my head. It took a few miles worth of songs before "the kiss" was just one more thing on my list. My long list of things to deal with.
I was on my way over to talk to Norris when my phone rang. I looked at the screen and seeing Weevil's name, I answered it.
There was no emotion in his voice as he asked, "What are you up to?"
"I'm in the middle of investigating something."
"Anything I can do?"
"No. I'm just heading to Norris Clayton's house. I need to ask him a couple questions. Then, I'm heading home."
"Norris Clayton? Why?"
"Tracking down a lead that has to do with all the fire drills we've been having." He didn't say anything right away and I was almost at the house, so I abruptly asked, "Can I call you when I get home?"
"Yeah, whatever."
I sat for a moment looking at my phone. He had sounded angry, but I had no idea why.
[
When I got home, Weevil was waiting for me in the parking lot.
The words he spoke were: "Could we go somewhere and talk?" But it wasn't really a question. Something less than a demand, but definitely more than a request.
He handed me a helmet and we rode his bike to the beach.
When we arrived, he turned off the engine, but he made no move to get off the motorcycle. His whole body was rigid. Removing my helmet, I moved to stand next to him, where I could see his face. He would not meet my eyes.
"What's wrong?" When he didn't answer me, I said, "Weevil, talk to me. You're scaring me."
He turned his head so quickly, it made me jump as he spat these words at me, "What are we doing here, V? What is this?" He gestured back and forth between the two of us.
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"Not that long ago, you ... pulled that stunt with the French fry." While he spoke, he was clenching and unclenching his hands. "Then, your dad glares at me for being in your office and after that … I don't hear from you, you don't talk to me."
"Wait a minute, I checked with you to see if I could help out – you know, the thing with your uncle. You all but told me to keep my nose out of it. From where I'm standing, you stopped talking to me."
Turning his eyes down to his hands, he was quiet a minute – trying, but failing to calm down. When he raised his head, he did not look at me, but out at the ocean. "I saw you today. After you left school, following that new kid. And then, at the Camelot." He paused to let that sink in. Turning to see my eyes, he said coldly, "You and Logan. You know, maybe you're more like Lilly than I thought." He shook his head, rubbing his hand back and forth over his mouth and jaw.
The anger seemed to roll off him in waves. Yet, he kept it controlled.
Better than I did, anyway. The words leapt from my lips. "What the hell?" I didn't know how else to respond to what he had just said.
Part of me was angry and defensive, but I wasn't sure why. Another part of me was trying to figure out what this was really about. And part of me was trying to figure out how to get this to deescalate from DEFCON 2.
My brain was incredibly busy while my mouth tried to find words for something I hadn't sorted through yet. "I did not kiss him. Well, I mean I gave him a quick peck when I was thanking him, but what I think you're talking about – that kiss – that was his idea, not mine."
"You didn't stop him."
"Well, no, I didn't. He caught me off-guard. But after Ben had gotten in my car with a gun and made me drive to the Camelot … and then, the stuff he told me – well, my brain was on overload."
"Wait – what? He had a gun?"
"Yeah! Though I guess you couldn't see that from where you were."
"No. I saw him get in your car and I followed. When he was pulling you up the stairs, I was about to ... but well, Logan beat me to the punch."
"Literally."
"Yeah. Then, I just watched. The three of you talking, then going into a room. Care to explain?"
"I'd love to, but I'm not sure I'm allowed to. At least, for right now. But I can almost guarantee that it's not whatever you're thinking."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because it wasn't what I thought it was." Seeing that he expected some kind of explanation, I continued, "While investigating one thing, I stumbled on another. I was on the phone with Logan when Ben got in my car and he heard that Ben wanted me to take him to the Camelot. That's why Logan was waiting when we got there. He thought I was in danger. But I wasn't." I paused for a few seconds. "Can we get back to the real conversation here? What are you so angry about?"
He just looked at me. His anger had begun to dissipate. With softer eyes, he tried to tell me everything he couldn't quite put into words.
Then, the pieces started to fall into place. His jealous anger provoked by several things – Logan kissing me, me spending time with other guys, not talking to him in recent days, my dad's displeasure over him being at the office with me. Add to that: him feeling so protective of me, him warning me not to start something without following through, and somewhere in the midst of it all, his fear that someone else would treat him the way that Lilly had.
As realization began to show on my face, he looked away.
"Weevil," was all I could say at first. Then, I placed a hand on the sleeve of his jacket and said, "Please, look at me."
I wasn't sure how hard to push. I didn't feel like I knew him well enough to know the subtleties of his personality.
Reaching across his body, I placed a hand on the opposite side of his face, hoping to gently turn it toward mine. He resisted.
I let my hand slide around to the back of his neck. He dropped his head, but did not move away from my touch.
Softly, I tried again, this time saying, "Eli."
I felt some of the tension release. He raised his head just enough to look at me out of the corner of his eye.
Holding his face with both my hands, I brought his forehead to touch mine. We just leaned into one another.
In that moment, with that connection – I felt everything he couldn't say.
Then, I kissed his forehead and asked, "Are you still angry?"
He let out a small, soft laugh – almost a sigh. "No."
In that instant, with that sound, everything shifted.
I knew that I liked to go for long drives when I had thinking to do. I had to imagine that he felt the same about being on his bike, alone with his thoughts. Maybe, he'd let me go along for the ride this time.
"I've got about an hour before I really need to be home. How about taking me for a ride? You, me, open road – any of this sound appealing?"
He just smiled as he put his helmet back on. That was the only answer I was going to get. Not so much with the words sometimes. Man, when they named 'the strong, silent type' – they knew what they were talking about.
No surprise that he headed for SR 1, a.k.a. the Pacific Coast Highway. The view was beautiful. The solitary silence was wonderful. But the part that so amazing, the part of it that I would miss the moment I got home … was leaning against him, feeling him breathe, sensing all the previous tension drop away as he became one with the bike and the road … with me along for the ride.
Somehow, with a nudge from me and some quality time on his motorcycle, he had gotten himself from livid to serene.
When he dropped me off at home, I started to give the helmet back to him. He suggested that I hold on to it.
[
As I watched him ride off, I realized that there was a lot we had covered without really talking about it.
And yet, that elephant in the room would at some point have to be identified and discussed. For now, I would file it under P for pachyderm predicament.
A/N:
Thanks for reading! Until next time ...
~Jen
5 August 2016
