Chapter Text
*R-RING!*
With a tired groan, Veronica pulled the blanket further over her head and squeezed her eyes shut tight.
*R-RING!*
She let out a little whimper, a silent plea running through her mind: Hang up, hang up, hang up, hang…
*R-RING!*
And, it was at this point that her mind finally woke up enough to realize that this call wasn’t going to go away. With a disapproving grunt, she managed to disentangle herself from where her fiancé had trapped her in an elaborate web of warm, comforting limbs, and glanced at the clock. Four-fifteen in the morning. Just great.
*R-RING!*
Glaring at her aforementioned fiancé and his ability to sleep through her current, ever-so-annoying ring-tone, her hand reached out for her phone and captured it after a couple of false jabs.
“Hello?” she asked, turning her back to the bed in an effort to keep down the sleep-jarring noise. Just because she was jealous didn’t mean she had to be inconsiderate…
“Veronica Mars?” The voice was mechanical and low. Spoken through some sort of voice-altering device.
That instantly had her awake. “Who is this?” she demanded, checking her caller ID. All she got was a series of dashes for her trouble – an untraceable number.
“If you know what’s good for you,” the altered voice sounded eerie in the quiet of her home which had so recently seemed so safe, “you’ll stay away from Duncan Kane.” And then, with a click, it was gone.
Veronica sat there for a moment, heart pounding, staring at the inert phone clasped in her hand. A trickle of fear slid down her spine, and it was something she hadn’t felt in so long that she’d almost forgotten the trials of her past. And then, slowly, the raw shock faded, and that analytical part of her brain took over, racing a mile a minute…
“Mmm…Veronica?” a sleep-hazed voice caused her to jump.
“Hey, baby.” She brushed the hair back from his forehead with one absent-minded hand. “Go back to sleep.”
“Who was that?” But she could already tell he was drifting off.
“Just a wrong number.” Little white lies still fell so easily to her lips, even though she’d been out of the PI gig for over a decade now. “Go back to sleep,” she repeated her entreaty. “You’ve got that big day tomorrow.”
But his eyes were already closed, mouth opened slightly as his breathing evened out into the rhythm of sleep.
Veronica breathed a small sigh of relief. Normally, she worried that their jobs could keep them apart sometimes for weeks at a time, but this time it worked to her advantage. She’d just spent the last three weeks in Istanbul, shooting her first big spread in Newsweek. Most days she’d been too busy to miss him; nights had been another matter. And, needless to say, their reunion tonight had been particularly…exuberant. It also had the side-effect of making him quite thoroughly exhausted. It gave her time to think.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from Duncan Kane.”
At first glance, the warning was so improbable, so bizarre, that she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it.
“Stay away from Duncan Kane.”
But then, as she considered it, possibilities started to form in her mind. It had to have something to do with his big senate campaign, right? Duncan’s face had been plastered over every television set in California for the past three months. He’d even made national news on more than one occasion. With a face like that, they said, he would be a prime candidate for the presidency one day. Young (barely above the minimum age of thirty, in fact, as his opponents were so fond of mentioning), charming, and charismatic, Duncan had swept the election last month and was headed for Big Things.
“Stay away…”
Of course, there were other possibilities. Ones that, no matter how uncomfortable, she had to consider. Her name and Duncan Kane’s had been intertwined for far too long not to consider them. Most of the grief she’d gotten in the past had been from the other women in his life, or women who wanted to be in his life. The prom picture of the two of them, looking so blissfully in love, burned into her brain, looking far too much like a picture from a generation before, Jake and Lianne…
“Stay away…”
But, no, that was catty of her to think, anyway. Most likely this was political. Their teenage years had been surrounded by scandal and sensation. Their names forever tied to murder, sex, lies, fire, and blood. And a third name – Logan Echolls – twisted into the mix for added fun.
If someone had a political agenda surrounding Duncan – either for or against him – she could very well prove to be his Achilles’ heel. The one who knew his deepest, darkest secrets…
“Stay away…”
Subconsciously, she twisted her engagement ring about on her finger. She’d only been wearing it for three months now, but already toying with it had become a nervous habit. The engagement was a permanent fixture in her life, so in a way it was fitting. Thumb glancing over the brilliant blue flare of the sapphire, testing and memorizing its contours…
Yes, she finally concluded, if someone wanted her to stay away from Duncan, it would have to be a twisted combination of both. The personal and the political.
And, also, if they were naïve enough to think that a warning phone call would scare away Veronica Mars, they didn’t know her at all.
Veronica didn’t like being threatened. And she was going to find whoever made that call, and tell them straight to their face.
Logan watched Duncan smile and wave, as the crowd cheered all around him. In a lot of ways, things never changed from high-school. Duncan was still the most popular kid around, loved by the common man despite his wealth, considered a fighter for the underprivileged despite his inherent tendency toward inaction, smooth, slick, and untouchable. Back in high-school, junior year, Logan had tricked Duncan into running for student council president. Even back then, he’d known that Duncan had had What It Takes for politics. Far more than Logan had ever had; he’d always been more of a ‘power behind the throne’ type.
But he and Duncan had long since parted ways, as so many friends from high-school did, and he was more than a little grateful that he wasn’t the power behind this throne. Because, while a lot of things didn’t change from high-school, some things did. And he’d like to believe that he was one of them.
Raucous applause met the end of Duncan’s speech, a standing ovation all around. The break room was just as enthusiastic, clapping at the television screen like somehow Duncan could hear them anyway. Logan took a bite of his Szechwan chicken and listened halfheartedly as political pundits instantly popped up onscreen, repeating exactly what Duncan had just said and making thoroughly pointless comments about who they thought the big ticket of the party should be two years down the line…
“How goes battle against the Wicked Witch of the West?”
Logan started out of his intense scrutiny of Duncan waving to his supporters. Damn, and here he’d thought he was beyond getting caught up in old grievances like that. “Oh, delightful,” he answered Gary, voice dripping with sarcasm as he flipped open the file folder beside him and took another bite of chicken. With a dramatic little flourish of his hand, he shoved the folder over Gary’s way so that he could see the latest trick that psycho bitch had tried to pull.
Gary blinked and read the most recent document in what was fast becoming legendary around the office as The Most Messy Divorce Ever. “How does working full-time count as ‘child abuse’?” Gary wondered in stunned disbelief.
“The same way that wrenching your son’s arm out of its socket doesn’t count as child abuse,” Logan retorted darkly, spearing another piece of chicken more than a little viciously with his chopstick.
“Judge Hopkins won’t buy that,” Gary reassured him.
“She bought that dear old Miranda’s psychotic born-again parents were fit guardians during the interim,” Logan pointed out.
“But no way will she give that bitch control over the kids,” Gary shook his head, reading over the report. “I mean, she’d have to be just as psycho…”
“Her logic does not always resemble earth logic.” Logan’s attention was back on the television set. Watching Duncan being adored by millions was preferable to thinking of what would happen if he lost this case. Which said something about how seriously he took it.
“Isn’t that the one you went you high-school with?” Gary asked curiously, looking down at his Caesar salad with a sigh before taking a reluctant bite.
“Sarah on your case about your cholesterol again?” Logan pointedly didn’t answer the question.
“Yeah,” Gary agreed, poking at a crouton wistfully. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
“True.”
Gary turned to watch the TV in the break room as well. “So, what, he’s like governor or something?”
“Senator,” Logan corrected absentmindedly.
“Ha!” Gary exclaimed in triumph. “I thought he was the one you knew.”
“Oh, yes,” Logan agreed with a sigh. “Lucky me.”
Duncan was extending his arm now to his wife, wrapping the tiny blonde in his arms as the cameras flashed all around them. Logan didn’t think he’d ever seen a faker pair of smiles in all his life. Well, okay, maybe from his parents. But, still, he could not for the life of him understand why the fuck Duncan would want a life like that. After all, hadn’t they spent ninety percent of their teenage years dreaming about what it would be like to get away from all that? Or, at least, he had. In retrospect he wasn’t quite sure that Duncan hadn’t just been nodding along with whatever he’d said all those years. Duncan never had been much of one for making his opinions known. And now he was a fucking US Senator. Just great…
“His wife is hot,” Gary offered.
Logan shot him a glare.
“Well, she is!” Gary insisted.
“Oh, of course she is,” Logan retorted sarcastically. “The perfect little ornament to dangle off his arm. Got to pick your women for their photogenic abilities and their ability to appeal to broad voting demographics, you know.”
Gary shook his head. “Damn, you’re even more cynical than usual today. Haven’t you ever heard of the Christmas spirit?”
“Ah, yes. The Spirit of the Holidays compels me to drag two kids and their abusive mother into court. Maybe this New Year’s they’ll just be left home alone rather than mysteriously falling down stairs. Can’t you just feel the tidings of comfort and joy?”
“Man, you need a vacation.”
Logan snorted. “I’m taking one just as soon as Judge Hopkins finally deems psycho-bitch a psycho-bitch.”
“So you’re thinking next June?”
“Au contraire! Hopkins has her own vacation starting this weekend. My bet is that we get a decision in the next few hours. Because heaven forbid we decide these things based upon the merits of the case. Oh no, Aspen calls.”
“You definitely need a vacation.” Gary just shook his head in disbelief.
“Tell me about it,” Logan grumbled. On screen, Duncan was holding up his eldest (publicly acknowledged, at least) child Michael with pride, offering the kid up like some sort of sacrifice to the hordes of bloodthirsty reporters. Logan wondered whether Duncan should be the one on trial for child abuse instead.
Gary seemed to sense another rant brewing. “Can we switch over to the game?” he called out.
Brian from accounting seemed to have no trouble with that, and Duncan’s smiling, beatific face was replaced by an auditorium of screaming fans. Given that the score was 48 to 7, there didn’t seem like much to scream about, but scream they did.
Logan let out a very long sigh. “Fuck, do I need a vacation,” he agreed, scooping up his papers reluctantly to head back in to court.
Veronica had long since been of the belief that if all roads in life led to one place, then there was probably a reason for it. And so many roads led to this one place.
She took a deep breath and decided to bypass knocking on the door bearing the proud label ‘Logan Echolls: Assistant District Attorney’. What was a little unannounced entry between old friends?
Her brow shot up at what she found inside. Booze at 3PM. “Of course there’d be booze in your office at 3PM. It’s one of the fundamental laws of the universe, right?” she snapped. And then wished she hadn’t. After all, she needed him in a good mood if she was going to bring up Duncan and the phone call she’d received last night.
Logan started at the sight of her, lingering on the short black skirt of her business suit. Two could play at that game, of course. She took a moment to appraise him, as well. He’d bulked up some since high school, grown into the very fine body that had been given to him. He was still tall and lean, though. Muscled, but not overdone. He’d tossed his suit jacket over the back of his chair, and the arms of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, giving her a nice view of well-developed biceps. Damn.
“Well, isn’t this an unexpected visit?” he retorted blandly, raising his champagne glass to her.
Beside him, Gary was looking rather uncomfortable that he’d gotten himself caught in their little moment. He drained his glass with one last gulp and headed for the door. “I’ve got the sentencing hearing to prepare for.”
Logan just nodded to him, eyes never leaving Veronica. “And aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” he asked lightly.
She fought back the blush from her cheeks. How he still managed to make her feel like she had butterflies in her stomach, even after all these years, was a mystery beyond her comprehension. “If I’d known you were throwing an office party, I’d have baked a cake.” She glanced at his glass once more.
He finished it off and set it down firmly on the desk beside him. “And if I’d known you were going to crash, I’d have brought more champagne,” he retorted, gesturing to the empty bottle.
She just shook her head in disbelief.
“Celebration,” he explained.
“Indeed?”
“As of two o’clock this afternoon, one Miranda Howard was officially ruled an unfit mother. Which means that, if those kids have any luck in this world at all, dear neglectful Simon Howard should get full custody.” He raised his empty glass in salute. “Just in time for Christmas.”
She frowned. “Are you drunk?”
“A bit tipsy,” he confessed sheepishly. “It’s been a very long case…”
She sighed and took a seat on the corner of his desk. “We need to talk.”
His brow quirked as he noted that she was wearing a garter belt under that oh-so-short skirt. She realized belatedly that one of the straps was showing and tugged her skirt down primly. It was no matter, though. He was more than content to study her stockings. They looked more than a little bit like heaven on long legs crossed neatly where she’d situated herself on his desk.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather do something else?” he asked breathily, closing in on her.
“This is important,” she insisted. “I—”
“Then why are you wearing exciting underwear?” he wanted to know.
She didn’t have an answer for that beyond the little yelp she let out when he caught her lips with his. “What are you—?” she swatted at him ineffectively.
“Mmm…” He breathed against her pulse point, taking in her scent.
“Anyone could walk in!” she protested.
“Let them,” he countered cheekily. And tackled her back onto his desk.
Any further objection she might have had was extinguished with the feel of his warm, hard body pressed against hers in every way. With a shaking gasp for air, she ran her fingers through his hair, yanking him down to her, catching his lower lip between her teeth and tasting deep of his mouth. After all, three weeks in Istanbul was a very long time, and one evening’s reunion was hardly enough for her to be sated with him. She was beginning to think that even a lifetime wouldn’t be enough; it was a theory she was looking forward to testing…
“God, Veronica…” he moaned against her when his hand slipped up under her skirt and discovered she wasn’t wearing panties.
“I thought I’d help you celebrate,” she offered coyly, fingers lightly trailing up his bicep.
“Fuck!” The exclamation, unfortunately, wasn’t due to anything delightful sexual, but rather the fact that he’d just manage to jab a certain sensitive portion of his anatomy into the nameplate on his desk. “Fuck!” he swore again for good measure.
Veronica sighed and sat up, nervously re-straightening the papers on his desk. “Guess we’re not eighteen anymore, huh?” she commented wryly.
“I knew there was a reason we’d nixed the public sex,” he agreed, collapsing onto the couch with a grunt.
She took a deep breath. “It’s just as well, I suppose. We do need to talk.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re going to your dad’s house for Christmas. It’s not a problem, really.”
“Actually, I was thinking that we could put off the drive until tomorrow.”
“Oh?”
“Oh,” she agreed, biting her lip and looking up at her from under her lashes coyly. “I missed you…”
He laughed and rose to catch her in his arms, placing a light kiss on her forehead. “You put off sex so that we could talk about when we’re going to have sex?”
“No.” She breathed deep of his scent, savoring the reassuring musk before soldiering on. “Do you remember that phone call I got last night?”
“Phone call?” He looked thoroughly bewildered.
“It woke you up? You made some Neanderthal grunting noises?”
“Homo erectus, please.”
She glared at him. “Well, it was some nutjob with an altered voice issuing threats.”
“What?” His face paled, all joking suddenly completely gone. “Who?” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” she admitted sheepishly. “Kyle—”
“Of course, Kyle,” he grumbled to himself.
She ignored his obligatory complaint about her friendly neighborhood LAPD detective who even she had to admit was perhaps a little bit too friendly when it came to her in particular. “—traced the tower signal back to Neptune—”
“Neptune?” This was just hitting all of Logan’s bad omen indicators at once.
“—but the number was untraceable. So,” she announced, “he gave me a tracker, in case—”
“The guy calls back, yeah yeah.” Logan frowned. “What did he say?”
Veronica took a deep breath. “‘If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from Duncan Kane’,” she repeated.
He frowned at that for a moment and then let out an exaggerated sigh. “Gee, shnookums, either you’ve been having a torrid affair behind my back, or a certain caller desperately needs a subscription to People magazine complete with celebrity gossip from, say, this decade.”
“Yes, that’s exactly it,” she smiled up at him, slipping her arms around the back of his neck. “I want to give my stalker a gift I know they’ll use this Christmas. But I just don’t know the address for the subscription.” She pulled him down to her for a quick kiss. Of course, ‘quick kisses’ with Logan had a way off stretching out into long make-out sessions. Fingers pressed against his scalp, tongues tangling, lips gasping for breath as they twined together intimately…
He finally broke off their kiss to nuzzle her throat. “Well, if you were hoping this was my sneaky way of telling you what I want for Christmas, I’m afraid you’re sadly mistaken,” he sighed, pressing his forehead against hers. “I was busy being unconscious and coping feels off of my fiancée at the time.”
“A perv even in your sleep,” she shook her head in distaste. And then more hesitantly, “I want to look into this while we’re in Neptune.”
“And I get to be your spunky and irritating side-kick, just like old times?” he guessed with faux-enthusiasm.
“I’m going to try to stay away from Duncan.”
“Do what you think is necessary,” he added seriously.
“I’m going to try to stay away from Duncan,” she repeated firmly.
He smiled at her softly. “Have I mentioned lately how much I adore you?”
She pretended to consider that for a moment. “Nope, I don’t think so.”
“Then I’ll just have to show you,” he concluded, slipping free of her embrace to snatch up his coat.
“Mmm, I like the sound of that…”
“Home?” He kissed her pulse point.
“Fuck!”
“Please.”