Crimson and Clover
by Angel Monroe
Disclaimer: I gave my soul to God for the book I'm writing. I have nothing left to barter for Veronica Mars. In other words, unfortunately, I don't own it.
A/N: Yeah, so I know you're all still waiting for a prequel to Don't Look At Me Like That, but it's not coming yet. This popped into my head while I was trying to write another piece I'm working on (which I think you guys will like), so here it is. It takes place during 1.20, so it obviously contains spoilers for that and a little 1.21. It's sort of a 'what if' piece about what might have happened had Veronica actually showed up to their date. Enjoy.
She felt his gaze before she saw him, and when their eyes met she felt a mix of emotions she couldn't begin to sort—affection, suspicion, attraction, betrayal. He was standing on the dock, leaning against a pole next to an expensive-looking speedboat. His smile on meeting her eyes was brilliant, but she couldn't make herself return it.
"Hey." He pulled her into a kiss she wished she could enjoy, and part of her did, but there were too many questions she needed answered. "What's wrong?"
She looked up into his concerned eyes and realized that she had pulled away. Not only that, but her tears were spotting his cheeks.
"Veronica, what's wrong?" he asked again, suddenly panicked, and she wanted to trust the affection he showed her now instead of questioning just how far his hatred had gone back then. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"
"Yeah," she whispered, regaining control of her faculties, "something happened and maybe I'll tell you about it, but first you have to answer me a couple questions."
"Anything."
Turning away, she wrapped her arms protectively around herself. She didn't want to see his expression when she asked. "The night of Shelly Pomroy's end of the year party, did you bring GHB?"
He tensed behind her, the dock creaking as he took a half-step back. "Yes," he said warily. "I got some Liquid X in TJ with Luke and Sean. What's this about, Veronica?"
She turned back to him, needing to look into his eyes. Needing to read them. "What did you with it?" she asked desperately. "Please, I need to know."
"I don't get why that's—" Her face must have changed because he cut himself off, heaving a deep sigh. "Okay, uh, I gave most of it away, to friends and a couple people who were willing to pay. I took some there. The rest I took at a rave the next weekend."
His eyes were so confused, so hesitant, and so worried. She wanted to believe they were honest. She had to. He was Logan.
"Veronica, talk to me. Tell me what happened."
Before she knew it, his arms were around her and she was sobbing into his chest. It was a gesture of surrender and apology because she didn't believe he had raped her. Even when he hated her, even if he was drunk, the man she had known since they were twelve would not have hurt her that way. At least, that's what she was counting on.
But he had had the drugs. That was something she couldn't forget.
"Okay," she sniffled, pulling herself together again, "this is the million-dollar question and I know it's a long shot. Could you remember everyone who had possession of GHB that night?"
He looked into her eyes, obviously confused, and answered in a whisper, "I don't know. I couldn't be positive 'cause I wasn't the only one passing it out, but I could probably list a half-dozen or so guys."
She nodded, wiping her eyes with the heals of her hands. That was enough for her right then. That was all she could take. "Alright. Let's get going." Without another word, she stepped onto the boat and turned to him. "You coming?"
He just shook his head, motioning his confusion with loud hand movements. Words just weren't enough. "Veronica, what the hell is going on? You come here looking like someone died, ask me all of these out-there questions about a party that happened a year ago, and then suddenly want to go sailing?"
"Pretty much," she replied, swallowing the lump in her throat. When he didn't move, she sighed. "Look, can we skip the confessional portion of the evening for now? Right now, I just want to enjoy the day. I've had enough drama this morning."
"But you're alright?" he asked incredulously. "Your dog didn't die? Your dad isn't in the hospital? Your Clash CD didn't break?"
She chuckled, wiping away the last of her tears. "Yes, I'm okay. Trust me, it can wait."
He nodded, though he obviously wasn't happy about not knowing. Still, he stepped onto the deck and pulled her into his arms again. This time she didn't pull away when he kissed her.
"I don't like when you're not okay," he mumbled, leaning his forehead against hers. He sounded almost surprised by the revelation, and she could understand that. They had spent so much time hurting each other over the last year that worrying was a foreign concept.
"We'll talk about it later."
He nodded adamantly, telling her wordlessly that they'd better, before smiling and turning her to face the rest of the deck. "So, this is dad's boat."
She turned, just noticing that the table held a plate of fresh fruit and a tub of ice cradled a bottle of champagne. It brought tears to her eyes again, and for a moment he seemed nervous before she took his chin in one hand and kissed him softly. They were good tears. "If I forget to tell you later," she whispered against his ear, "thank you."
The water was beautiful as they sped over it, Logan at the wheel and her sitting beside him with a flute of champagne in her hand. Yeah, if her father could see her now, he'd shit a brick. Hell, a month ago so would she. She'd stare and laugh and say, "April Fool's Day." Life was a funny, funny thing.
"There it is," Logan said into her ear, then swooped down to kiss her neck. "You ready for our first official date to begin?"
She held up her glass. "What, this wasn't part of the date?"
""Nope," he replied, smiling that wide, teasing grin of his. "That was just to get you all good and giggly before the fun begins." Then, more softly, "You looked like you could use it."
"I did. I really did." She hadn't touched a drop of alcohol since that night, always wary of who had handled it first. Logan hadn't noticed how closely she'd watched him as he poured the glass. She'd watched every movement of his hands, seen that he hadn't passed his hand over the glass as if to drop something in. So maybe she was a little overly paranoid. At least now she could enjoy a glass of over-priced but delicious glass of champagne.
The more she thought about it, the more she knew how stupid it had been to just assume it was him, even for minute. There were tons of people at that party, and he probably wasn't the only one running around with drugs. Sean and Luke had them to begin with, and she trusted Sean about as far as her buff but petite little body could throw him. She made a mental note to question him.
"Hey," Logan's voice brought her back to herself, and she smiled up at him innocently. "You were fading there for a moment. Maybe it's time for a break from the champagne."
She gasped, playfully indignant. "Why Mr. Echolls, are you suggesting I can't hold my liquor? You should know better."
He laughed as he navigated the vessel into the marina.
She rested her head on his shoulder, her hair floating around her in the open air and a stuffed dolphin clutched in her arms. It had been a long day. A good day, a great day even, but a long day. Between shopping in the Metropole Market Place, eating dinner on the patio of the Channel House, and the mental stress of the morning, she could barely keep her eyes open. Didn't bother her, though. Logan's arm around her shoulders made her more comfortable than her bed back home.
When the boat slowed to a stop, she mused that she must have fallen asleep. The trip back seemed almost momentary. "Are we there yet?" she mumbled groggily, trying to pull her eyelids open.
"No."
Though his voice was calm, comforting, his answer shocked her awake. "Where are we?" she demanded, sitting straight up. Dusk was setting and there was nothing around but ocean. "Logan, what are we doing?"
"I figure," he replied, staring at the steering wheel instead of her, "that once we get back on the mainland, you're going to avoid telling me what's going on by either faking or actually falling asleep. And if I let you do that, then you'll brush it off and pretend that whatever happened didn't happen because you're this badass chick who can't or won't let anyone help her. So I thought that maybe if I trapped you out here with me, you'd tell me what this morning was about."
"I don't like being trapped, Logan." It was all she could say, extricating herself from under his arm. "Please start the boat again."
He didn't. He nodded his head like he expected the answer but didn't move to do as she asked. "I know that after this year, I have a lot to make up for," he said quietly, his voice carrying in the stillness. "And I know that I haven't done anything to earn your trust, but I figured that with everything that's been going on with us—you helping me with my mom and me saving you from the guy who wasn't really kidnapping you, and then with us doing this secret relationship thing—I figured you might let me in behind that wall of yours…just a little."
She half-heard him over the blood pounding in her ears. He wouldn't hurt her. She knew he wasn't going to hurt her. But something about being stranded in the middle of the ocean at night screamed, helpless, and she'd never wanted to be helpless again. "Please," she whispered, genuinely afraid.
And he saw it. It scared him more.
"Tell me what you're afraid of, Veronica." It was a statement, almost an order, but it was pleaded more than demanded.
Only a moment did she hesitate. "Losing control of myself."
"I'm not planning to take advantage of you."
She shook her head; he was getting it wrong. "No, I mean literally. I'm afraid of losing control of my body, being immobilized. I can't be out here in a situation where I'm helpless."
"You've never been helpless, Veronica." She didn't want to correct him.
But her eyes were already brimming with tears. "I was," she whispered, her voice catching on the lump in her throat.
He stared into her eyes, and she momentarily hated them. They read her like no other could. "When were you helpless? What happened to you?" When she didn't answer, he started spurting his own ideas. "It was at Shelly's party, right? That's what this morning was about? Something happened at Shelly's party, something with Liquid—"
He cut off, eyes widening in realization, and she stopped breathing. Something told her he had guessed it on the first try.
"Oh God," he breathed, and she knew he had. "Tell me what happened, Veronica. Tell me what happened to you because right now what I'm thinking is killing me. Tell me it's not what I'm—"
"I was raped," she blurted out, and suddenly the world seemed too damn silent. She wished for a radio or a television or a nuclear explosion. Anything to distract from the way his eyes softened, pitying her in a way she'd never wanted. Another three seconds and she'd dive overboard and start swimming to the coast.
"The GHB," he whispered, looking down to try to cover the tears she'd already seen. "God, I'm so sorry." Then, jaw clenching, he asked the million-dollar question, "Who?"
Though she'd been expecting it, it still hurt. Every time she asked herself, it dug the hole deeper in her heart. Hearing it from his lips just made it tangible. "I don't know. I can't remember anything between passing out by the pool and waking up the next morning in the guest bedroom. It's all completely gone. This GHB thing is the first clue I've gotten since then." It was her turn to look away when his eyes bore into hers. "When I was told you had the drugs, I had this insane moment when I thought—"
"You thought it was me?" he cut her off, indignant as he jumped to his feet. When she didn't speak, he shook his head, at a loss. "How could you think…I mean, I've done a lot of screwed up shit, but how could you think…to you? To anyone? I would never…"
"I know," she whispered, still looking at his legs instead of his face. She knew how much someone else's loss of faith could hurt. "I get that you would never hurt a girl that way, I really do. But in the shock of everything—in the half hour between school and the slip—I couldn't have thought clearly if I'd tried. Part of me just wanted to turn around and spend the day in bed."
"I'm glad you didn't." It wasn't an apology; he'd already given one. It wasn't forgiveness; she wasn't asking for any. It was just a statement. He was thankful for the day. So was she.
"Me too."
Her eyes met his again when he knelt down in front of her, taking her face in his hands. "Like I said, I know that I've been horrible to you this year and it's gonna take some time to get past that, but I'm willing to try. I just want you to trust me."
"I do," she whispered, trying not to cry again. The day was just so wrought with emotion that it was camping just below the surface.
He shook his head, a tight smile on his lips. "No you don't, not really. Otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation. But you will. I'll do whatever I can to help you trust me, starting with this rape thing." When she seemed confused, he continued, "I'll help you find out what happened. Even if I have to beat it out of every person who was at that party. I swear I'll find out who did this to you."
It brought a smile to her face and a teary, appreciative laugh from her throat. "Thank you," she breathed, pulling him down into a slow, soft kiss. "Just, thank you." There was nothing else to say.
He kissed her again on the lips and then the forehead before sitting next to her and starting the boat back up. Suddenly Veronica realized that she didn't mind being stranded so much. With Logan, she never felt helpless.