Chapter Text
Within 24 hours, they are both without fathers. Logan moves fast, at first. He gets his father’s attorneys on the phone, tells them they’ll be handling the finer points of his father’s estate and last will and testament, but the priority is Keith Mars. He goes into parts of Veronica’s home he’s never been invited to, because Veronica can’t - shouldn’t have to - handle doing it herself and these things are time sensitive.
He finds the death boxes underneath Padres memorabilia. Three boxes, each neatly labelled with their creators’ names. He sees Keith’s, but it’s Veronica’s he is drawn to. He opens it, and finds lists. What she wants to be buried in. What she wants buried with her. A mix of songs she wants playing. A list of people not to come. He’s pleased to see his name is not on the list. He’s surprised to see that Duncan’s name once was, before it was scratched off.
“It was when I got so fed up with the fact he wouldn’t speak to me,” Veronica offers from her perch at the door frame, directly over his shoulder.
He startles. “I’m sorry. It’s not really any of my business.”
“Sure it is. I think I’ve uncovered enough of your secrets that you can see some of my own.”
He nods. “I remember when you decided that we all needed one of these,” he tells her, gesturing to the box. “Right after Lilly.”
“And Duncan wouldn’t hear of it,” she reminisces with him. “But you did. You told me you were going to go home and make one that night.”
He remembers that day. It wasn’t the day of Lilly’s funeral. It was a day or so later, when the grief was overwhelming and the fractures in their friendship were being ignored. “You were so upset with everything.”
“Well, Lilly would have hated the dress Celeste picked. And the photos in the collage she decided on.”
“And the song we took her casket out to. Yeah, I know.” He gingerly puts her intentions back in the box. “I kept mine, you know. It burned down with the rest of my stuff, but I made sure it was up to date. Even when we weren’t - even when I was a bastard to you.”
“Thank you. For this. Truly, Logan, I don’t know what I would be doing without you.” She shuffles into the room. She doesn’t cry. The tears are there, but she won’t let them fall. She looks around this room - his room - and trembles. “It hurts just being in here.”
“Then don’t.” He takes her by the shoulders, and gently leads her out. “I can get this started. I can - let me do this for you.”
“Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, handling your dad’s stuff?” Her voice cracks, and the tears she’s been holding back for about five minutes launch their assault down her face.
He shakes his head. “First, we’re dealing with your dad. The actual good parent. I’ve got people handling a lot of Aaron’s estate right now. They don’t need me. And when they do, I’ll tell them to take a hike. You’re more important.”
“I’m just - I’m so tired,” she tells him. He leads her out to the couch. She doesn’t sleep alone in her bed any more, and he needs to work for a while before he can snuggle with her. The couch is where she can sleep without immediately dreaming.
“Rest.” He pushes he gently down, arranges her under a blanket. Kisses her forehead. “I’m taking care of it.”
He watches her slip into sleep, and collects Keith’s box from his bedroom. When he opens it, he finds that Veronica’s dad was just as diligent in keeping his box up to date as Logan himself was. As Veronica is. There’s a copy of his most recent will, and he finds a key to a safe deposit box. He looks at pictures of Veronica and her dad that Mr. Mars wanted included. Finds a list of important documents that are in his safe, among them being a life insurance policy. And he finds envelopes - letters. For Veronica, but also for what looks like Wallace’s mom. For Cliff McCormick. For people he doesn’t know, and hopes Veronica does. He even sees one for Veronica’s mom. He puts them down.
When Veronica wakes up, he asks if she’s able to go with him to the office. She asks why, and he shows her the list.
“They’re not in that safe,” she tells him. “That safe is for client files, for active cases he has going. And stuff he didn’t want me to see. This safe is in his closet.” She closes her eyes. “I think Cliff has the combination.”
He nods, and goes to call Cliff.
“What are you doing?” the lawyer asks him.
“I’m doing what needs to get done.”
Cliff sighs. “Kid...”
“Veronica can’t do this by herself,” he tells the older man. “I know she’s strong. I know she’s capable. But I’m not letting her be strong or capable right now. She has to be able to lean on someone.”
“I’ll be over in a little while,” he tells Logan. “It’s probably good for Vee that you’re doing the heavy lifting. I’m surprised she’s letting you.”
“I didn’t really give her a choice,” he replies, and hangs up. He walks back out to the living room, and sees Wallace sitting on the couch, with Veronica curled against him.
It stings, seeing her taking comfort from someone else. He’s glad she is, glad she can, glad Wallace is here to give it. He’s not going to lie, a part of him rails against it. A deep, twisted part of himself that’s not actually so deep down wants it to be them against the world. Them, standing together. Have the only thing one can rely on be the other. But the part of him that he’s worked so hard to cultivate knows that isn’t healthy. And what he wants more for Veronica than anything else, aside from her father not being dead, is for her to be healthy.
So, he nods at Wallace, and asks Veronica if she wants anything in particular to eat. She shakes her head. “Not hungry.”
He sighs. He’s so used to Veronica being strong, or playing strong, that he’s occasionally completely befuddled by this creature before him. He wants to grab her, shake her, make her come back to being Veronica for him. Her lip trembles, and he’s lost again.
“Baby,” he tells her, “you have to eat something.”
Wallace nods. “Yeah, Vee, we can’t have you wasting away.”
She looks so miserable there, in this living room, with the essence of her father still hovering all around them. He wants to scoop her up and run her to some place on earth where she won’t hurt. But all he has at the moment is a suite at the Grande, and that seems like pulling her from the fire only to force her into a river of lava. He looks at Wallace, who just looks haplessly back at him.
It’s strange, he thinks, how at the end of the day, all the tragedies that came before did nothing to inoculate them to the tragedies that keep befalling them. It’s strange how all the tragedies that have come before haven’t made them experts in the art of dealing.
“I’m ordering manicotti, and lasagna. Wallace, you staying to eat?”
“Yeah, you know, if Veronica wants me to.” Veronica doesn’t have a positive or negative reaction to that. She just stares into space.
“She wants you to,” Logan decides for her. “What will you have?”
“I’ll have a calzone.”
“Done.”
With the food ordered, all there is to do is to sit. He does, and has nothing to say. There’s nothing to say, and he knows Wallace feels it too. It feels like the three of them are stuck in limbo. Or maybe purgatory. It isn't hell, but it feels like they're one door away from being there. He looks at Veronica, and reassesses.
He and Wallace aren't in hell, but she is. When Lynn died, after he knew she died, he thinks he had the same hell. A hell built on could haves and should haves. Words left unsaid. Tiny actions that could have altered the events. He's still there, some days. On the bad days. He hasn't fully climbed out of it yet. He thinks about how this is just one more club he and Veronica belong to, together. The 'Parents Dead by Unnatural Means' club added to the roster of 'Friend/Girlfriend Being Murdered' club and the 'Knowledge of Parental Infidelity' club and the 'Kids of Mothers with Substance Abuse Problems' club. He doesn't offer his observations to anyone else in the room. Just sits there, and waits.