A/N: Set during 2x22 Not Pictured. Kind of up in the air, not quite sure how I feel about this one yet. It's been brewing in my mind for quite some time. It was originally intended to be a one shot, missing scene deal, but I think I'll leave it open for now, see if I can come up with a few more chapters to swing it more to my liking. I like to have more dialogue in my stories, I like the bantering and quick wit of Logan and Veronica, but for obvious reasons, it just doesn't fit in this first part of the story. I hope you enjoy it anyway! Any comments or ideas are appreciated!
Veronica's knew sleep was her only escape now, but sleeping terrified her. She knew when she shut her eyes she would see her dad, all the good memories flashing behind her eyes.
She was terrified at what her subconscious would create in her dreams. The weeks after Lilly was murdered were horrible for Veronica's sleep, and psyche. She saw the act of someone murdering her friend over and over again. A million different scenarios, a million different murderers, all ending up with Lilly screaming for Veronica to save her, all ending up watching her best friend die.
Not only did the dreams haunt and taunt her, but during her waking hours she saw Lilly, with her head bashed in, blood running down her face, over and over again. Veronica constantly steeled herself for when she would hear her dad's voice, she had to be prepared, to fight the urge to turn towards it, fight the urge to see him again, who knew what he was going to look like after a plane crash. No, Veronica knew she wasn't strong enough to live with that image burned in her brain forever.
Sleep was not an option. Watching her father die in the explosion was not something Veronica ever wanted to see, much less have it run on a loop.
Tears rolled down her cheeks uncontrollably. She sat, staring out of the window, unseeing, unhearing, unfeeling. Just being.
"We're here," Logan said softly, shaking her from her trance. She went to unbuckle her seatbelt, because that was what was expected of her. She glanced out the window to see her apartment building.
Seeing something so familiar broke her heart even more. Her hands were shaking so bad she almost couldn't make them move. She finally got her belt undone by the time Logan was opening her door. She grabbed his hand, needing something to anchor her to the earth.
She spaced out again and then Logan was fishing in her pockets, looking for her keys. She just stood, not helping, not caring, trying to make the pain stop.
She heard the lock slide over and the door swung open. He motioned for her to enter first; she only got a few steps inside when the smells of home rushed over her, she cried out at the injustice of it all.
Logan wrapped his arms around her waist to support her weakening knees. She spun towards him, beating at his chest weakly, screaming out in anguish before clutching him to her, sobbing on his shoulder.
Somehow, they ended up on the couch. She was sitting on Logan's lap, her head on his chest. She stopped crying, she figured she had finally run out of tears.
He was rocking her and whispering soothing words that fell on deaf ears. She focused on the steady rise and fall of his chest, the rhythmic thumping of his heart, and his hot breath that fell across the back of her neck when he exhaled. Only later would she realize the soft taps she felt against her hair were his own tears falling for her grief.
She very slowly became relaxed enough that he could stretch her out some; she was still in his lap, but more lying down now.
She stared at the ceiling, she couldn't look at Logan. The one time their eyes met, the anguish in his eyes caused by her pain sent her spiraling out of control again, so she adverted her eyes to the ceiling.
Eventually, she fell asleep, still sprawled across him. He sat, unmoving under her. Trying to make sense of a world that could be this cruel to her. He felt helpless, unable to comfort her like she deserved, unable to bring back the father she was going to miss terribly, unable to cure anything at all. He wished it all were a twisted dream, but realizing as twisted as it was, it was reality.
Her dreams were worse than she imagined. Twice she awoke in a cold sweat, screaming. Logan was there both times, calming her, holding her against him like a porcelain doll, cracked and fragile, terrified one wrong move could shatter her to pieces.
The third time she awoke, much less violently, she was in her bed, Logan was not with her. She sat up, listening for whatever pulled her from the awful dreams. After forcing herself to focus, she was sure the noise that shattered her nightmares was a gunshot. She choked, her air supply cutting off briefly.
When she got her lungs working again, oxygen rushed back into her, forcing her to gasp aloud, drawing huge amounts of air into her lungs.
Tears sprang in her eyes; she knew that Logan was dead. She felt the coldness of terror coil in the pit of her stomach. She almost collapsed on her bedroom floor, but sheer determination made her walk towards the living room.
She sank heavily against the door frame as her eyes fell on Logan's form, sitting on the couch, head back and arms limp by his side. She stood still, holding her own breath desperately looking for signs that he was still breathing.
When she found none, a choked sob escaped her lips and she was in front of him, leaning against the couch between his knees trying to shake him awake.
"No, no, no, no," she chanted over and over again, tears falling helplessly from her eyes.
Instantly, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her onto his lap—his eyes alert and scanning for any signs of danger. She pulled back, shocked that he was alive. Her hands fluttered over him, looking for any sign of injury.
"Shh, Ronnie, baby, I'm fine, I'm okay, you're okay…," he said pulling her against him again.
"No," she choked out, still sobbing. "You were dead, they shot you, and they took you from me!"
He was sure she would dream of her dad dying, dream of his last moments, dream of facing down Cassidy on the roof. Dream of the night she was raped, dream of the night Lilly was found murdered. Even dream of simpler times, when they were all innocent, when life was pure, happy, livable. He never imagined she would dream of losing him too, never imagined it would hit her this hard even if she did.
He pulled her back from his chest to look in her eyes. "No one will ever take me from you, Veronica. I love you and will be with you every step of the way."
He silently chastised himself for leaving her in the bedroom. He had stayed by her side faithfully for the past six hours; he only needed to get a small amount of water to ease the ache in his throat from murmuring to her nonstop. He had sat on the couch to take a breather and must have fallen asleep.
She sat on his lap facing him, clinging to him. She buried her head against his neck, unable to form the words to express her gratitude that he was alive, that he was still here and that he wanted to stay here with her.
Logan stood still holding her against him as he walked to her bedroom. He put her on the bed first, sliding in beside her. He positioned himself so she would have to crawl over him to leave the bed, something that would surely wake him up.
He pulled her against him, whispering words of promises and empty words of well being.
She snuggled against him, once more focusing on his breathing and heartbeat. She knew the next few weeks would be hell, and the rest of her life would be even more difficult… no one should have to face things in an entire lifetime that she's faced at her young age.
Instead of falling into a fitful sleep again, she started planning. Veronica Mars was never one to give in to emotions, she blocked them off better than anyone, no… tomorrow wasn't going to be a day of crying and sleeping. Tomorrow would be a day of action, a day of reckoning, a day of revenge.