You ring me late at night I'm back in Spain already.

I don't want to answer because by now you've read the letter and you're probably going to scream at me for not telling you but I know if I don't answer I'm going to regret it. So I do.

"If it isn't Veronica Mars," I say.

"Logan why didn't you tell me?" I hear the aggravation in your voice.

Your husband is probably sitting close by furrowing his brows at why you had to call me so soon when you could be having sex but you're Veronica Mars. It's what you do.

"Because I didn't want you to see me like this."

Yes, because as much as I complained about protecting you and keeping you safe, I was the one who didn't want to be protected and kept safe. I was the one who couldn't let anyone in.

"You're dying, Logan and you were just going to leave this letter for me and then what? You die and I find out through the grapevine? Is that what I meant to you? Is that all?"

There's this thing you do with your voice when you're trying so hard not to cry. It's like you and your voice box have different brains.

"Exactly. I'm dying, Veronica. That is a fact," I tell you, looking at my pasty complexion in a near by mirror.

I imagine you still in your wedding dress at your new house completely ignoring your husband. You're eyes would fume, you would pace and pace until your feet tire but even then you might pace some more. You do that a lot when you're angry.

"I-I-I'm coming to Spain. I owe it to you," You say but do you really?

"Veronica no. You just got married and I'll be fine, honestly," I try and convince you but inside I'm just convincing myself.

"Logan I can't be here while your there and wait for the moment I get that phone call telling me the love of my life is dead. I'm coming," You say before hanging up.

But are you really?

Will you get on that plane and fly here only to realise I hold to much bad memories and turn around?

I don't get my hopes up because when it comes to it Veronica Mars, you really suck at sticking to things you say.


You've been here in Spain with me for 4 months now.

Every day you make sure I'm hydrated and I've eaten and you ensure that the moment I am in pain that I have an aspirin in my mouth.

Honestly, I don't know how I did this the last two times without you.

Your husband calls every day, you answer each call and end it shortly after telling him that I need you when I don't and by the time he's heard it you've hung up. I give you funny looks but you don't say anything, I should know you well enough to know you wouldn't right?

I feel sick. I feel awful and suddenly I'm throwing the contents of my stomach up into the toilet and you're right there by my side with a cold face washer wiping my sweaty forehead and soothingly rubbing my back until I finish.

I'm only getting sicker.

In reality I should only have about 8 months left at the most.

When I get back into bed you look at me with those eyes indicating you'd like to say something but you never do.

No. You wouldn't be Veronica Mars if you did.

"Dick took care of me," I say out of the blue, closing my eyes.

You stay silent. Let me talk Veronica. Let me talk.

"He came here and took me to the hospital. He was there for the Chemo and the radiation. He was here. You didn't have to be."

Even though my eyes are closed I can picture seeing the hurt in your eyes. The fact that I didn't need you hurts you doesn't it? How does it make you feel to be pushed away Veronica?

"The second time he couldn't do it. Told me his dad wanted him home but I knew…" I cough. Cough. Cough. Cough. You're right there to pass me a glass of water. "I knew he couldn't handle watching me die."

That's right. I almost died, Veronica while you were on dates with your husband and investigating crimes I was right here battling cancer all on my own.

"Veronica?" I ask. I wonder if you will answer. "Do you love me?"

It's the question that's been on my mind for years and years. Do you or don't you?


"Stop pushing me away. Stop running. I can't chase you anymore Veronica I'm dying and I'm too weak to chase you now."

I want you to spill your heart out. Confess everything. Tell me your secrets and lies Veronica. I'll take them to my grave.

"Yes, Logan. I love you," It's almost a whisper but not quite.


I'm in hospital now, hanging on to my life by a thread. You are here. Sitting beside my bed every minute of the day. I barely have the strength to speak sometimes.

I hear you read to me, telling me stories of your great adventures. You're a great story teller. Why did you never become a writer Veronica? You were always good at that.

The doctor comes in and asks to speak to you and I know it can't be good so I pretend to sleep because I want to hear what he has to say.

"He's on his last leg. We can try and make him as comfortable as possible but I'm afraid he probably won't last the night," The doctor tells you and even from here I can feel the pain you're in.

"I should…I should…I should ring his best friend. He should be here," You stutter.

"You can do that but he will probably be too late. Your boyfriend is very sick, his body is failing him."

"He's not my…could you please contact Dick Casablancas, I think this is his number," You say, passing the doctor Dick's number.

As the doctor walks off I listen to you cry. Please don't cry, Veronica. I hate to see you upset. I'll be alright. I promise you that.

You sit back in your seat and take my hand, it's bony and pale. I hate the way I look. You don't seem to mind.

I wait for you to say something. Say anything. I need to hear you speak Veronica before I go.

"I wish I could go back in time, Logan," You sob. Please stop. "I wish I could go back and choose you. I wish I hadn't have run."

But you couldn't possibly have known I was going to get sick Veronica and in the end would you have been happy with me? Would you?

"I pleaded with dad to find you after you disappeared. He tried. He really did but he couldn't trace you. Dick wouldn't tell me anything but of course I never really asked," You whisper.

You grasp my hand and honestly it hurts a little but I don't want you to let go because I'm almost gone. I can feel it. I can feel my body slipping away.

I try and open my eyes, I want to see you one last time before I go. Please God please, if you exist let my eyes open so I can see Veronica Mars one last time before I go into your awaiting arms.

"I'm so sorry I never asked," You cry. Stop that now. Please, Veronica. I hate to see you like this.

My eyes open and there you are. Beautiful, angelic Veronica Mars.

"Please…" Cough. Cough. "Stop crying," I manage.

"Logan. I don't want you to die. Please. Please don't," You plead but I can't change my destiny.

"I-I-I love you Veronica Mars," I know it'll be the last thing I'll ever say.

I feel so weak and the pain is almost unbearable. More morphine please, more. But it's too late now isn't it? What's the point when I'm almost gone right?

"Please Logan. Please hang on for Dick," You cry. Plead. Beg.

I can't hang on. Tell him I'm sorry Veronica, tell him he was a great friend and that I love him too. Please take care of him. Make sure he's alright. Please take care of yourself and don't dwell on this, Veronica. I love you too much to see you miserable.

Don't worry I'll see you again soon. In years to come we will meet again and I can see you smile.

"Logan you have to hang on. Please."

My eyes close. I'm so close.

"Please," You whisper. "Please, please, please, please, please."

I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I can't stay.

You cry. You sob. You plead for me to stay. You beg. You negotiate with God, take you instead of me. But he has made his mind up and it's me he's taking and not you.

"I've always loved you Logan. Stay now? Please?"

A tear slips from my eye because I can hear you trying to hang on to me. But you have to let go, let go Veronica. I can't go if you won't.

"Let me…" Cough. Splutter. Cough. Cough. Cough. "Go."

"I can't. I won't. No. I love you."


You kiss my lips. Are they dry? Are they cold? They feel it. But then I feel your lips and everything seems okay for that split second. When you retract back I come back to reality.

"This is me letting you go," You cry. It's an awful thing to hear. Stop it. Please.

I'll always love you, Veronica. Even if I can't manage to say it right now, I'll always, forever love you.