He pressed a hand to the base of his neck before his fingers wandered up to the back of his head. He flinched awake.
For a few seconds, his eyes catalogued every item in the room. He turned his head sideways to sniff the pillow.
Did she stay all night?
Another shot of pain stifled that train of thought and forced his attention on the present. He gingerly removed himself from the covers until he stood by the side of his bed.
"I believed you once, Clark. I'm not believing you again!"
With his door being open, her voice travelled freely into his room. He wandered into the hallway, one hand massaging the aching bump at the back of his head.
"I want a transfer, and I want it now!"
He moved down the stairs, bare feet stepping carefully down each wooden step.
"Really? You're playing that card? Random my ass - stop pulling this crap!"
He stopped three steps from the bottom. She paced freely around the living area as she shouted into the phone. Her left hand slashed the air around her like an angry conductor as she yelled mercilessly at her handler.
"Neighbors? Really - neighbors? So I'll call up Mrs. Browning, and she'll be trembling over a card too?"
He took another step.
"We need to be transferred, Clark - effective immediately."
We?
His pulse quickened as he finally landed on the first floor.
"Fine!"
That was her last hurrah, apparently, before she hung up and collapsed on the sofa in an exasperated heap. He walked over slowly, and her face betrayed exactly when she saw him coming.
"How are you feeling?"
Well, what do you know, she cares.
He rubbed his head lightly. "Slightly better. Sorry to sleep in, I didn't know that - "
"I made breakfast. It's fine," she informed him directly. "Not that I think you ever eat breakfast unless you're making it for me."
He smiled slightly at the fact that she'd noticed. "I'll grab a bite or two."
She nodded, effectively ending the conversation. He turned towards the kitchen.
"That was - Marshall Clark," she spoke before he left. He looked back at her. She met his eye. "He said the note was a 'random neighborhood prank.' Apparently, everyone on our street got one."
Uncertain, he stayed where he was. She, on the other hand, sank further into the sofa in a display of helplessness he had never seen before. A feisty woman cut off from her every contact except an incompetent handler - he never thought he'd see the day.
But what could I do?
He cleared his throat. "You, uhm - wanna check out those claims?"
The gratefulness in her eyes as she nodded surprised even him.
The sun dipped low as he shut their front door behind them. Each door had only gotten more depressing than the last. Be it Mrs. Browning's subtle hints against fornication, the wolf whistle the man across the street directed towards Veronica, or the girl whose make-out session with her boyfriend they'd interrupted - there was nothing worth noting.
Nothing at all.
Logan watched as Veronica trudged aimlessly across the living room.
Why is she like this?
"Vanessa," he called, stepping forward till he stood right behind her, "you okay?"
She surprised him with a scoff before she whipped around. "What's with everybody asking that?"
He paused the ready quip on the tip of his tongue. Snarkiness wasn't the key to the facts.
"About Clark - uhm, is he sure about this?" He fumbled instead.
She shrugged, gaze low. "It doesn't add up."
"They did all get the same letter."
"And that must make it completely benign," she snapped. Her eyes glared at him angrily, before she lowered them with a sniffle.
What?
"Are you o - I mean, I'm as worried as you are. But hey, maybe it really wasn't ill-intended."
"They hit you, Logan!" She looked up, eyes afire, while her fists clenched at her sides. "How could I be okay with that?"
"It's not the same people - "
"What if it is?"
"Then we can ask Clark to - "
"He of all people should know what it's like - stupid marshall." She dropped on the sofa, her face openly exhibiting disdain.
He stopped then, as he's seemed to have been doing quite often. Slowly, he edged forward until he could kneel by her side.
He looked up at her profile, at shaky eyelashes and bitten lip. "What happened with Clark?"
She paused for a moment, perhaps contemplatively. Then she spoke. "He was hurt before. Someone shot him in the knee."
"I see," he encouraged.
She gulped before adding, "He was in witness protection."
A myriad of questions flooded his mind. He opted for one, "Who hurt him?"
"He was in the program because of his abusive stepfather. It took a judge extensive deliberation to allow a young teen into WITSEC instead of foster care. But he got in." She sighed. "But his stepfather found him - and hurt him."
She turned to look him in the eye. "That's when the shadowing program started."
He nodded. "Why entrants aren't allowed to be left alone."
"Yeah," she confirmed. She looked down again. "And I've been thinking."
He waited for her to continue.
After a minute, she heaved a heavy, audible sigh. "Maybe we shouldn't be separated."
He processed the thought. "It's always easier to take us out individually."
"Yeah." Her voice felt hollow.
"I mean, I do walk you to work - and we don't have separate schedules most of the time, we - "
"At night."
He paused to look at her. Her frown indicated a deeper worry than he'd ever seen from her before. "Night?"
"Maybe we shouldn't be sleeping alone."
While 'not sleeping alone' had initially sounded like a good idea, he knew from the moment she slipped under the covers next to him that he was a lost cause. There was no sleeping with Temptation Incarnate a mere two inches behind him.
Who offers to share a bed with her ex-boyfriend?
Lost in his mental battles, Logan almost yelped when Veronica pressed two small fingers against the spot where the boomerang hit. He turned around as fast as he could without aggravating the pain.
"Sorry!" She blurted right away. "I didn't realize - "
"It's fine." He rubbed around the spot for a bit.
She watched him silently. The silence disconcerted him.
"You, uhm, sure about this?" He searched her eyes as they faced him, the right side of her face pressed into the white pillow that her right hand supported.
Do not think of the Grand, do not think of the Grand. DO NOT think of -
"Yeah," she spoke softly. She looked down for a moment before meeting his eye again. "I hope you don't mind."
Do I?
He pondered her statement for a moment. This sleeping arrangement was hands down a cruel and unusual punishment.
But why do I like it then?
He mustered a smile. "I'm fine. You sure about not using your room?"
She shook her head into the pillow. "You're hit. You need to be as near your stuff as possible."
"Luke doesn't have much stuff, remember?"
She smiled a little. "Yeah, yeah - but still, this room is nearer the stairs anyway."
"And nearer any predators."
She sighed, and he knew he was being difficult.
"Sorry - I didn't mean to question your decision," he assured. He reached over to place his right hand on her left shoulder.
That small gesture of bodily contact, however, ignited something he had long believed impossible. For the next few seconds, they looked straight into each other's eyes. With their height leveled by their reclining position, her face - her lips - lay closer to his than they had in forever. Every inch of his body became hyper-aware of every inch of hers.
He knew the soft skin that met his hand now trailed all the way to her fingers. He knew that lying sideways made her bosom full and tender. He knew that the bump in the comforter right across his waist was the curve of her hip.
Instinctively, he pulled closer. She seemed to do the same.
When they were only an inch apart, she heaved a heavy breath.
They both snapped out of it in an instant. They rolled backwards, each facing the ceiling. The way his neck hit the edge of the pillow had him crying out in pain, and he immediately sat up.
She was up beside him in an instant.
"You okay?" Her fingers gently fondled the area where he'd been hit. "Lo, you okay?"
He nodded without looking up, still doubling over from the pain. The entire time he bent over, her hand remained gently on his back.
He looked up a minute later, and he's surprised by the soft eyes greeting him.
"You okay?" She asked again.
"Yeah," he whispered.
For a handful of seconds, the two former lovers - and current partners - stared gingerly at each other, both unsure.
After one last moment of deliberation, Logan reached out to hug her - tightly. He pressed a kiss in her hair. "Goodnight, Vee."
Then he let go, turned over, and lay down for bed.
She pushed in the last bottle of milk, pulled back, and triumphantly slammed the refrigerator shut. She fought the urge to slap her hands against each other as if she's dusting them off.
The accomplishment of the early riser.
She grinned at her own thoughts. After a week of genuinely good sleep, she'd been up and awake far earlier than expected today.
Nothing more fulfilling than an early run of groceries.
She shifted over to whip up the pancake batter. Despite the hypocrisy of leaving him alone in the house, when had she ever refused the beckon of breakfast?
"Hey there."
She turned at the voice. She smiled. "Good morning."
"Mornin'" Logan grumbled. He raised a hand to scratch his already messy hair. The gesture lifted his T-shirt just high enough to leave an enticing view of delicious abs between his shirt and the top of his pajama pants.
Veronica, wake up.
She willed herself not to blush. After that close call that first night in bed, she'd been determined to avoid any other similar scenario.
Can't have myself falling for him again.
She inhaled sharply.
Wait - what?
"So, you're up early." His voice forced her back to the present.
She shrugged. "Uhm, yeah - wasn't tired anymore."
She turned back to the batter and called over her shoulder. "Didn't bother to change?"
She's caught by surprise at the sound of sheepish laughter. "Well, you're usually there when I wake up. After last week - you know."
I know.
She turned around after a final whisk. "How's your head?"
Logan shrugged. "It's alright - getting there. They never found the guy?"
"No." She licked her lips as she walked over. She leaned across the counter between them. "I, uhm - I checked. It wasn't Roy."
"You can tap into info banks on any of our neighbors?" He looked almost impressed.
"No - but I can sleuth." She smiled a little. "It doesn't take much to trace where the only two Playboy subscriptions were being delivered around here."
"Ah, I knew I should've bribed the mailman."
"Not the dog to go after him?"
"If only we had one."
They exchanged pleasant smiles.
She spoke first, "So - uhm, pancakes?"
"Sure, I'll take one." He stepped towards the counter. "Unless my ration's only for a half?"
They both chuckles as she made a show of throwing the spatula against his face.
"Hey, watch out," he lamented. "Don't ruin this pretty face."
"A pretty face who needs someone to comb his hair."
"Girls die for the bedhead, you know."
"A bad boy can't be made to care?"
"Exactly."
She found herself grinning back at him. "Do you want that pancake or not?"
"Depends." He leaned back on his chair. "Does it come with a dose of paranoia?"
"I think your quota's just half a dose." She winked.
She inhaled a general amount of the scrumptious aroma. "Hm, steak?"
"And criss-cut potatoes," he added as he set down the plates with a flare. He grinned. "Not bad, huh?"
"Not bad," she conceded. She slid on her seat with a smile. "Eating at this rate, I'll be double my weight in a month."
"Then you'll finally be half of mine." He didn't miss a beat. He dropped on the opposite seat. "I'd rather have a chubby wife than a hungry one."
"Girlfriend."
"Fine, girlfriend it is," he compromised. Then he winked.
Ugh, Veronica.
She ignored the comment to focus on her food. She'd have to admit after the first slice - that medium rare was spot-on. "You cook a lot?"
"Often enough." He swallowed a bite. "Even the best room service can't beat freshly homemade food."
"I'm surprised you know the difference."
"Hey, even a rich kid needs to survive." He grabbed a piece of the crispy, crunchy potato. "Not that you would know, right? Always calling us trust fund folks spoiled brats and refusing our food."
The spitefulness in his voice gave her pause. After a moment's deliberation, she huffed. "Alright, Logan - we need to talk."
"Ah, she finally cracks." His voice brought humor, but his eyes frowned. "Finally noticed this false civility isn't working?"
Can you ever make this easy for once?
She gulped. "I know I haven't been easy to deal with these past weeks. All this - set-up - it's been surprising and tough."
She looked at him and continued, "I know I act like I don't want to be here - and I don't. It's not nice to be someone else with a different name, identity, and everything. I'm sure it's tough on you too. But, look, wait - "
She stopped his response with an outstretched palm. "Look, I never said this was because of you."
His tongue flicked over his lower lip.
He's listening.
"Logan, it's not you, okay? I don't like the whole WITSEC thing. I was upset before you even came. And, seriously, the boomerang and stuff doesn't inspire confidence either."
He stayed silent.
She braved on. "So - if you're thinking that this whole charade is unpalatable to me, then yes - you're right."
She reached out to place her hand over the one he had laying on the table. "But it's not about you, okay?"
His eyes met hers for a quick second, deep and soulful. She saw disbelief - then she saw hope.
She inhaled.
"For real?" He finally uttered.
"Yes," she assured both of them, "for real."
He looked to the side, contemplating. She tried her best to wait him out.
"So the sharing a bed thing isn't a way to keep an eye on me so that I don't escape?"
He thought that?
"Of course not." She withdrew, offended. "Why would you even think that?"
"I dunno - it's not like you want to be here."
"I don't - but it's not because of you!"
"Ah, and you'll gladly share bedspace with anyone the bureau assigns?"
She breathed in sharply. In an instant, she had shoved herself away from the table and off her seat. "You can't possibly think that!"
"Ah - so it is about me." His eyes, rueful and hurt, met hers again. "And here I was hoping that I had crossed over from hate territory to indifferent."
Indifferent?
The accusation stung more than she'd care to admit. Her hands flew to her hips. "Logan, why do you have to be this difficult?"
"Me? Difficult?" He looked away, huffing. "That's always been your preferred term of endearment."
"Logan!"
"Veronica!"
The stared at each other, both chests heaving and both tempers flared.
"Why sleep in my room and not anybody else's?" He asked first.
She licked her lips, unready to response. He, apparently, didn't wait her out.
"No answer? No reason again?" He complained, his face twisted into a painful scowl. "I should've known better than to - "
"Because I care, okay?" She exploded then, silencing all his further efforts. He stared back; she refused to back down. "I care, Logan - I care. I care that no one sneaks in the middle of the night and kills you. I care that you don't wake up to gunshots as someone attacks my room. I care that neither of us be caught by any predators - human or otherwise - all alone!"
She looked away at the last line, eyes stinging. By the time she turned back around, she's surprised by his towering form hovering above hers.
She sniffed. "Whaddya what?"
He didn't say.
She scoffed. "Look who doesn't have an answer now. I thought - "
Her words stop short as she met his eyes.
Suddenly, her heart shifted into supersonic speed. She inhaled, lungs tight. "I thought - "
She stopped again when he lowered his face - inches from her own. She forced her hands to stay by her side. His eyes bore into hers with wonder and pain.
"You care?" He whispered, voice barely audible.
"Yeah," she managed a single syllable. All the cabinets, walls, and floors behind him blurred into a pastel background. She gazed at his lips. She could feel his gaze on hers.
He started to move closer, tantalizingly slow.
I'm sure he's about to -
"Logan, what are we doing?" She stopped him an inch away.
He didn't move for the first two seconds. At the third, he pulled up and stepped away. He sighed. She pretended to appear relieved.
"You still want dinner?"
She looked up at his question. His face was blank, expressionless.
"Yeah, sure."
A/N: Dear VM fandom, I am so happy to be back in your loving arms! The criticism in other fandoms has made me entirely too nervous about my writing. I now wonder if I'm ever going to write for another fandom. I suppose we'll just have to see. Thank you for encouraging me to continue this story, despite my reservations. Someone reminded me that I had made a promise to complete each of my stories, and I should keep it.
Much thanks to irma66 for catching my errors. Also, I made up the shadowing program for WITSEC. There's no need to Google and be confused ;)