Chapter Text
Many thanks to Marshmellow Bobcat for this beautiful art (and to Fic Club readers for loving this story like you do)
A. Paper Walls Break
She tugs the thin black cardigan tighter around her frame, shivering despite the garish sun overhead. The sleeveless black dress falls just below her knees, the neckline square and doing her tiny breasts no favours. Lilly would hate this dress on her, but she hadn't wanted to leave the house this weekend. Hadn't felt like this was a shopping occasion.
Lilly was always the one who took her shopping. And now, she's dead, carefully displayed in a satin-lined casket trimmed in gold. Her mother's spare black dress is fine. Not like she cares how she looks today.
It is so cold. The chill had first set in as she'd stood over her best friend's bloodied body, her eyes wide and unseeing. Veronica wonders if it's Lilly, clinging to her arm as she had done so many times in the courtyard at Neptune High, tossing her head back and laughing. Maybe Lilly is clinging to her now, desperately holding onto life.
"Veronica? Honey, come on."
She spins around, meeting the concerned gaze of her father. His black suit is neatly pressed—her mother has a perfect touch with these things—and his hand is outstretched. Her arm reaches out, heavy and slow.
Lilly, stop that, she admonishes in her head. Don't make him worry.
A small flag is tucked in the hood of their car now: Funeral. They will be joining the procession to the cemetery, where Lilly's body will be lowered into the ground beside her grandparents. Three cars ahead, she spots Duncan entering a black limousine alongside Celeste Kane and her heart aches.
She's called him once each day since… since Lilly died. Since she'd found him, rocking and mute. Shock, her father had explained. Her calls have met with voicemail, and eventually, The mailbox belonging to "Duncan Kane" is full.
Logan had answered her. Had called her first, actually. Called the night it happened, at midnight. Apologizing to her parents, pleading to talk to her. Insisting on it. Rules were broken. Rules didn't exist that night. They'd talked for an hour—cried, really, more than talked.
Every night, he's called her. Never for long, never much to say—but it's enough.
She finds Logan in the crowd, his mother's arm looped through his. As if he can sense her stare, he turns towards her. For a moment, she swears she sees a rage in his eyes, a flicker burning away to the dry ash of a consuming grief.
Time skips and starts. The burial passes in a blur, speeches and sorrow. Veronica's hearing is muffled, an underwater prison where only snatches of phrase penetrate. She falls in line, places a calla lily on the casket as she should, kissing the bloom farewell. Step away, step back. Don't hog the space. Lilly was beloved by so many, after all.
The lowering of the casket shatters the reverie. Shatters her. And with it, the tears fall earnestly anew. Heavy, wracking sobs, ribs aching, knees quivering. Her father hooks his arm around her, pulling her closer, and Veronica's fist clings to his blazer.
Lilly's gone. She's gone forever, and nothing can bring her back.
Her vision begins to spin, white pulses growing larger until there is nothing. No death. No graves. No Lilly, just a chorus of voices that call out her name.
Her mother. Her father. And Logan.
Veronica rolls over in bed, confused at the time on her bedside clock. How is it past eight? The service was at two. Her legs stretch out and she realizes she is now in her pajama pants and a tank top, her hair still in the French twist her mother had helped her with for the service.
Memory floods in: I passed out at Lilly's grave.
Rubbing her eyes, she swings her legs out of bed, gingerly testing their sturdiness before standing up. So far, so good. With one palm on the wall as a failsafe, she makes her way down the hall, finding her worried parents watching TV—with Logan Echolls.
"Logan?"
"Veronica! Sweetie, how are you feeling?" her mother asks, rising to her feet. "Are you hungry?"
"Nuh uh."
Her gaze fixes on Logan, seated on the couch beside her father. His white dress shirt is rumpled, the sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows, the jacket discarded. His hair is messy, his eyes sunken. She wonders if he's slept at all since Lilly was found.
"Hey, Ronnie. You feeling any better?"
"A little. I, um, didn't expect you here."
Her living room is a bit crowded with Logan's presence, and she hesitates to sit, leaning against the wall instead. Her mother, having disappeared into the kitchen, returns with a glass of water for her.
"Drink up. You need to stay hydrated."
"And you need to try and eat something, kiddo," her father gently insists. "We ordered a pizza, or if you feel like something else, I can run out and get it for you. Mama Leone's is open until ten, or if you want to eat ice cream for dinner…"
Wow, ice cream for dinner was usually reserved for fevers over 102 and failed tests (which hadn't happened since grade three). Although Veronica supposed the death of a best friend should qualify for a whole pie to go with it.
Veronica takes a sip of water, then begins gulping it as instincts kick in. It occurs to her that she hasn't had much to eat or drink all day. No wonder she'd keeled over at the cemetery.
"Maybe I should eat something," she agrees quietly. "Manicotti?"
It's one of her comfort foods, always soothing. If her dad is offering…
"You got it," her dad assures her, rising to his feet.
"No, Mr. Mars, I'll go get it," Logan insists.
Her father frowns. "That's not necessary, Logan. I'm sure your parents are wondering where you are—"
"I can assure you, they're not. They're… in Los Angeles," Logan mumbles.
Oh. Oh, no. Logan is alone? Today? Veronica's hands begin to tremble, imagining herself in his position. He can't be alone! Duncan's not answering anybody. Where's he supposed to go?
"I'll come for the drive," Veronica suggests. "Give me five minutes to change."
The problem with her father being the sheriff of Neptune is that he never stops being the sheriff of Neptune. Keith Mars' brow furrows deeply as he exchanges a concerned look with his wife, then Veronica. Knowing she will never win with a direct appeal. Veronica turns to her mother, struggling to suppress the panic within.
Come on, Mom. Didn't you hear what he said? He's alone!
"I don't see why not. Just to Mama Leone's and back, right?" Lianne confirms with Logan.
Logan nods dutifully. "Yes, Mrs. Mars."
"I'll go get changed!" Veronica announces firmly, ignoring her father's muted protests.
Pulling on a pair of jeans, a clean pink tank top and a fluffy black cardigan, Veronica gives herself a once-over in her bedroom mirror. Her hair is a little messy, but not too bad. Ducking into the bathroom, she gargles mouthwash and slicks a few errant strands of hair with a spritz of hairspray in her palms, reapplies antiperspirant and grabs her purse.
Logan waits at the door, hands fidgeting with his car keys. Her father has clearly said something to him; he has the chastised look Duncan has worn many times. Rolling her eyes, she kisses her parents on the cheek in turn and slides on her sandals.
"Straight there and back," her father instructs. "After what happened today, I don't want you to push yourself too hard."
"I won't, Dad."
Passing her a twenty, he leans in and whispers conspiratorially. "Tiramisu for your Pop, alright?"
"You got it."
Her father watches them as they silently walk down the driveway, Logan opening the passenger door of the X-Terra for her and gently closing it before rounding the front of the vehicle. Tucking her purse at her feet, Veronica waves at her father with a pointed look. Undaunted, her father remains on the porch as the engine turns over and Logan pulls out onto the road.
Music drifts from the speakers at low volume, soft acoustic guitar and a female voice Veronica can't place. It isn't Logan's usual choice of music, and as she listens to the lyrics, she finds herself blinking away tears.
"I don't blame you for quitting
I know you really try
If only you could hang on through the night
I don't want to be lonely
I don't want to be scared
And all our friends are waiting there
Until you're safe and sound…"
"Logan…" It's a question and an answer.
"I should have been there, Ron. I should have been there."
Logan's grip is white-knuckle tight on the wheel as they make their way down the main drag. The pale amber glow of the streetlights shimmers in the periphery of her eyes, a slow rolling wave that reminds her of low tide at the beach.
"There's no way you could have known. No way anyone could have. You could have ended up dead, too, Logan!"
"Maybe I deserve to be," Logan spits out, signalling for a left turn.
Her fists curl, one striking the passenger door in fury. "Don't you say that! Don't you ever say that!"
Logan startles in the seat beside her, glancing in her direction. "Veronica—"
"No, you listen to me!" Her palms swipe angrily at her tears, furious at their betrayal. "There's this gaping hole in my chest where Lilly should be, this… cold, empty place where I used to feel joy and love. I can't get warm, Logan. I'm always cold. It's so fucking cold. She's gone… And I don't… If I lost both of you… I… That's too much cold…"
She pulls her sweater closer, burrowing her face in the collar to dry her tears. The feel of a hand on her knee stuns her sobbing frame into silent stillness.
For the first time in days, she feels warmth.
"I feel it too. The cold."
His hand squeezes her knee and moves away, and Veronica whimpers at the loss of contact. At the loss of warmth.
On the radio, the woman sings, achingly beautiful:
"Feel like I really loved you
Feel like I could've saved you…"
Veronica peers over her sweater at Logan and knows this song is for Lilly. A song of regret, it hangs in the air for the ten minutes it takes to reach Mama Leone's.
With twenty minutes to kill, Logan suggests they walk to the beach just beyond the restaurant's patio. Veronica nods assent, hugging her sweater tightly around her frame as they trudge through the soft, golden sand to the shore. The beach is mercifully deserted, the water lapping gently as Logan slumps to the ground, knees drawn up.
"Your suit's going to get dirty."
"Like I give a shit," he replies.
Sinking down on the sand beside him, Veronica stares out at the water. It seems endless, an inky abyss. If she steps out into the water, steps off the shelf into the depths, will anyone see her? Will she disappear? A shiver runs up her spine and she wraps her arms around herself.
"C'mere."
"Huh?"
"You're cold," Logan whispers. "Come here."
Eyeing him warily, she shuffles closer. Logan's arm loops around her waist, pulling her between his legs and against his chest. His arms wrap around her from behind and she closes her eyes, her body alight. Warmth. She is safe and warm. They are friends, and they've hugged of course, but this… this is different. Intimate. There is a current running through her, an electricity crackling in the air.
Logan sighs, resting his chin on her shoulder, and she leans her cheek into his. The faint stubble tickles her skin, but it is so much better than the numb emptiness of grief.
"My cold is dark." His words are soft and measured, but the slight shudder of his torso as he speaks betrays the intense emotion brimming beneath the surface. "Like the absence of light. No sun. No heat."
"Yeah…"
"Lilly was my light," he whispers. "And now there's just… darkness."
Veronica studies the night sky, unnerved by the absence of moon and stars. It is as if nature has swallowed up light itself, in the absence of Lilly Kane. Her hand reaches up, covering Logan's with a gentle squeeze.
"You aren't alone. You're my friend. Duncan's your friend."
Logan huffs. "Yeah. It's… Never mind."
"No, tell me."
"Some things don't have words, Veronica. I just… I just need to sit here, with you. Is that okay?"
Her grip on his hand tightens as she presses back against his chest. "I need that, too."
How she needs this. The warmth is more than physical contact—her parents have held her plenty in the last few days as she's cried. This is a heat that fills her veins, the marrow of her bones. It nourishes her. Every cell of her body craves the contact. Emotions whirl within, a hurricane of love and pain and something undefined lodged in her throat. Words tumble, letters lost until a formless murmur slips free.
The waves lap softly, watery fingers stretching for her toes.
Duncan has cast her aside, and the Kanes are cold and dismissive. Logan is the last person in her life who loved Lilly as much as she did.
The Fab Four are now a Tearful Two.
"What do we do now?" she whispers.
"We stick together." Logan's arms squeeze gently, hugging her closer. "Whatever happened with you and DK, we have to stick together."
Duncan. She has no idea what had happened there, besides Lilly telling her to let it go, that it wasn't worth fighting for. Logan is right: it doesn't matter now. Duncan was her friend before they dated, and if anyone needs a friend right now, it's him.
Logan's lips press to the side of her head, feather-light, as they have on birthdays and holidays past. "Food should be ready."
"My dad will send a deputy if we're not prompt," Veronica jokes weakly. "Not like he has to worry. I'm with you."
Logan releases his hold on her, sliding away and pushing up to his feet. He reaches down and pulls her up, shrugging his shoulders sadly.
"I dunno. I lost Lilly on my watch. Can't blame him for being cautious."
"Logan, stop that."
"I don't know if I can," he confesses. "But I'll try. For you. Alright?"
"Try," she echoes, hitching her purse over her shoulder and taking his hand.
Their order is waiting: manicotti, a lasagna for Logan, and four portions of tiramisu. Logan's black AMEX is plunked down, Veronica's arguments waved off and they head back to the Mars home with the food nestled between Veronica's feet. The scent of cheese and tomato sauce has coaxed Veronica's appetite awake, and she's actually a little excited to dig in.
Logan, on the other hand, seems increasingly anxious as they approach her street.
"Where are your parents?"
"My father starts shooting tomorrow for some shitty action movie, and my mother has tagged along to spend the day in a spa with a bottle of champagne to unwind." Logan rolls his eyes, tapping the wheel in an angry staccato. "I'll be alone all week. Maybe I'll throw a party."
Veronica glares at him, her jaw falling open. "You can't be serious!"
"Of course I'm not serious. Although someone is sure to throw one and use my address, because why would anyone consider my feelings on the subject?"
Dick Casablancas, if she were to take a guess. You'd think the guy could take a hint that now of all times, he should be a friend and support Logan. Maybe he'll surprise them all, but Veronica doubts it.
The bigger problem, she reminds herself as they pull into her driveway, is that Logan will be alone all week. Alone with the cold they both feel, the cold that is creeping over her once more. How can his parents be so cruel?
"Here you go. Home sweet home."
Veronica frowns as Logan remains in his seat, engine idling. "What, you're not coming in?"
"I think I've overstayed my welcome. If you can just split out my food from the bag, I'll get going—"
"No, no way!" Her hand darts out, turning off the X-Terra and snatching the keys from the ignition. "You're coming in for dinner."
"Veronica, give me my keys."
Logan's hand reaches for hers, but she's faster and smaller, yanking open the door and tumbling to the driveway before he can catch her. The food is still on the floorboards—a challenge—but she has a solution Lilly taught her years ago.
"Veronica, seriously, give them back."
"I will put these keys down my boobs if I have to," she threatens. "Just… come in. No one should eat alone. And we're supposed to stick together, right?"
His irises are dark, dark as the starless sky. "I… But—"
"Your words," she rebukes him gently. "Your lasagna's getting cold and cold cheese is gross."
Her front door swings open, revealing her father. "Everything alright?"
"Yep. Logan and I were settling a bet. He lost." Grabbing the bag of food, Veronica jerks her head towards the house. "Dinner. Come on."
His lips crook into a half-smile. "Okay. Okay, fine."
Jangling his keys like a Pied Piper, Veronica leads him up the driveway, ignoring her father's confused expression. She'll deal with him later. He's a good dad. He'll understand her concerns for her friend.
If only for a while, Logan has chased away the cold from her heart. Has somehow found a way through the darkness that consumes her, and brought her light.
She cannot—will not—turn her back on him now.
It's all over the news. All over the school. Whispering through the halls, tangling around her ankles, tripping her up.
Her father has accused Jake Kane of murdering Lilly. Jake Kane, beloved billionaire, is the number one suspect in the brutal battering of her best friend. Veronica is the last to know, it seems. Her father's professionalism is her undoing as classmates corner and cajole her. Apparently, he's been interrogating them since the night of her death, but the accusations reached a fever pitch within a week. The Kanes lawyered up, whispering to their wealthy and sympathetic neighbours, and now, the entire 90909 zip is abuzz.
Duncan isn't in school yet. Small mercies, she tells herself. But Logan is. Oh God, Logan is. He came back to school yesterday, after she encouraged him to. After yet another late night conversation, where they'd shared private memories of Lilly while speaking softly into the night.
Logan spent most of the week with Duncan, trying to support him. Veronica sensed that the absence of his own family was a factor, but she let Logan spin the story the way he needed to. Selfishly, she'd asked him to try and come back to school, and for one day, things had been good. Things had been warmer.
His icy stare as she collides with him in the front corridor while trying to sneak off campus early, overwhelmed with the inquisitions, drives a dagger into her chest. The cold steals her breath, paralyzing her as he hisses from the contact.
"Where are you going?"
"Home," she manages to blurt out. "Excuse me."
Logan's arm shoots out, blocking her path. "No, you don't get to do that. Not to me."
Gripping her bag tighter, Veronica winces and recoils. "Logan, please."
"Does, uh, does your dad still think Lilly's father did this?"
And there it is: the question she's dreading. His eyes glisten with tears threatening to spill as he folds his arms across his chest. He can barely look at her and her stomach rolls. He hates me.
"That's my girlfriend. Your friend. Duncan's sister."
Her sandpaper tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth, helpless as he hoarsely declares her family's betrayal for passing students to see.
"Your dad is destroying the Kane family. What's the matter with you people, huh?"
Logan sniffles and her hand raises slightly, seeking to comfort him, but thinking better of it. Knowing she is no longer welcome.
"What's the matter with you?" he repeats, shaking his head slightly.
"M-my dad is… He doesn't tell me about work—"
"Save it. I don't want to hear it."
He pushes past her, his shoulder checking against hers as he heads further into the school. Veronica gasps, choking on a sob as her palm presses against her arm. Covering heat, cupping it as if collecting rain.
It's the last warmth she will feel for a long time.