live through this and you won't look back (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} buffyx) wrote,@ 2005-12-11 19:56:00 |
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| Current mood: |  cheerful |
| Current music: | "Yule Shoot Your Eye Out," Fall Out Boy |
| Entry tags: | fic: veronica mars |
fic: Wonderland. VM. Ensemble. PG.
Title: Wonderland (1/1)
Author: BuffyX
Pairing/Character: Veronica, Keith, Logan, the Fennells, Mac, Backup. Some V/L undertones. Good times.
Summary: Christmas!fic. Very, very long Christmas!fic, that is also self-indulgent.
Rating: PG-13, for language.
Spoilers/Warnings: Through 2x10, but also goes pretty damn AU. CANON IS FOR QUITTERS!
A/N: So basically, I have totally screwed with the timeline. Both Keith finding out about the tapes and Meg's death happen before Christmas, because I say so, nyah nyah. It makes sense in my head. Hopefully it translates in the story, too.
Twenty-three seconds after Veronica reads Mac’s email, her father comes into her room, tells her that Meg has died, and that the baby didn’t make it, either.
Five-point-six seconds later, she is sobbing uncontrollably with her face in his lap and his warm hand on the back of her head, feeling very much alone, and very, very far away from the girl she wants to be.
An hour and forty-eight minutes later, she is collected enough to call Duncan. She imagines him tucked away in some cozy log cabin, adorning thick argyle sweaters and brand new winter boots and sipping from a mug of gourmet hot cocoa as the snow falls down, his thoughts a million miles away.
Veronica’s not an idiot. She knows Duncan, and Duncan Kane has denial perfected to an art. (Maybe, she thinks, she liked that about him, maybe that was what made her think they should have a second shot. Birds of a feather, and all.)
Eleven seconds after he picks up the phone, she notifies him that his ex-girlfriend and their baby are both dead.
Nine minutes and twelve seconds into the conversation, she ends things with him, under no uncertain terms.
What surprises her most is not the lack of objection on his part (which is still surprising, and definitely stings). It’s the steadiness of her voice that’s a shock, how calm her tone is. The way she doesn’t feel like bursting into tears when she hangs up the phone.
She doesn’t have the luxury Duncan does, of lying to herself to make the past more palatable. She has tried, but there is only so much you can swallow down. No, Veronica is forced to settle for this gritty, uncomfortable truth that yes, maybe they loved each other once, but maybe she never knew who he was. Not really.
**
Four hours and seventeen seconds later, there’s a knock on the door, and it’s Wallace, cracking a grin and holding out his arms and being Wallace, and she is more than happy to attack him with hugs.
“Way to make a brother feel loved,” he jokes, looking a little taken aback, but flattered, nonetheless. “So. You missed me?”
Veronica squeezes him more tightly, her throat constricted so tight she can barely speak. “You have no idea.”
**
Alicia calls not long after, and Keith spends about two hours on the phone with her. It could be more-- Veronica isn’t really keeping track. She’s too busy catching up with Wallace and stumbling out endless apologies, but he keeps telling her that it’s okay.
When she asks about Chicago, he’s quiet for a long time before finally telling her that it didn’t work out.
“Look, the important thing is, I know where I belong,” he says with an air of certainty, and he looks older than she’s ever seen him.
Veronica’s just so happy that he’s here that she can’t help but hug him again. She’s still clutching to him like they’re surgically attached when her father walks out of the bedroom, phone dangling in one hand.
“Wallace,” Keith greets with a nod and a grin. “Good to have you back. Hey, why don’t you stay the night? It’s getting late anyway.”
“Ooh!” Veronica claps her hands together in glee. “We’ll have a slumber party! We can braid each other’s hair, compare sleeping bags, pour over the latest Sassy. Come on! You can’t turn all that down.”
“I don’t know, my mom—” Wallace starts, but Keith waves him off.
“Already got the okay,” he explains, holding up the phone. “Actually, she and Darrell are going to come over tomorrow. You’ll all be staying for the weekend.”
“So we’re spending the holidays here?” Wallace asks.
“Looks like. As long as you approve.”
“It’s cool with me,” he agrees with a wide grin. “Very cool.”
Veronica perks up. “Does this mean that you and Alicia are—”
“We’re working on it,” Keith interrupts firmly, and she knows by his look that that means he is going to say nothing more on the matter.
**
The three of them are sitting on the couch, watching a Christmas-themed episode of Friends, when Wallace gets up and goes to the bathroom. Veronica rests her cheek on her father’s shoulder, and Keith puts his arm around her back.
“So I was thinking,” he begins slowly.
She lifts her head up in order to give him a raised eyebrow. “Mmhmm?”
“With Duncan gone, Logan’s going to be all alone this weekend.”
Veronica can tell she isn’t going to like where this conversation is headed.
“Point being?”
“My point is, it can be a… difficult time.” He pauses and gives her a meaningful look. “Even under better circumstances.”
“Since when do you care about Logan’s well-being?” she asks in a clipped voice. “What happened to shoving him up against the wall and banishing from our home?”
“I think ‘banish’ is a little strong, Veronica.”
“If memory serves me right, I believe your exact words were, ‘You’re-leaving-now-and-you’re-never-com
“I’m only saying,” he replies wisely, “that it is a time for giving.”
There’s a strange look in his eyes that she can’t quite place. It’s like he knows something that she doesn’t, and the feeling leaves her unsettled. She doesn’t like not-knowing.
He stretches then, rises to his feet and glances at his watch, shaking his head.
“Well, I’m off to bed,” he announces. “Let’s face it; your old man’s not what he used to be. I can’t even stay up long enough to catch the new South Park episodes anymore.”
“You seem the same to me,” Veronica assures him, smiling.
**
The idea of inviting Logan over for the holidays seems beyond absurd. Still, when she wakes up the next morning, she finds herself staring at the lines of her ceiling and thinking of him waking up to that empty hotel suite, all alone. Something in her aches a little at the thought.
She steps over Wallace’s sleeping form on the floor—he’s snoozing softly, her copy of Seventeen still resting half-open on his stomach, and Veronica makes a mental note to tease him mercilessly about that fact later. It’s easy enough to change quickly in the bathroom, grab her car keys and slip out the door without a sound.
When she eventually finds herself standing in front of the room, her hand poised inches above the door, it takes her a good thirty seconds to actually knock.
No answer.
Veronica knocks again, and waits. No answer. Irritated, she knocks once more, counts to ten in her head (one-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand, four-one-thousand, five--) before the door opens.
Logan is shirtless, his hair slept-on, eyes bleary and squinting. He looks kind of thrashed. Of course, that’s how he’s been looking all the time lately, so she can’t really tell.
It seems to take him a few seconds to register who she is, and then he sighs heavily and demands, “What is it now?”
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Veronica says sharply. She looks at his half-naked state and cringes, caught between dread and horror. “Oh, god, I’m not actually interrupting, am I?”
He catches her drift and immediately smirks, leaning one arm up against the doorway coyly.
“My, my, Veronica Mars, you do have a dirty mind. However, the answer to that would be, no, you did not catch me in the throes of passion,” Logan tells her before pausing, mulling it over for a second, and then tossing out as an afterthought, “unfortunately.”
“Then what took you so long to answer the damn door?” she questions, chagrined.
“How about, I have a hangover, and it’s before noon. You’re lucky you were able to render me from unconsciousness at all, sweetheart.” His eyes narrow. “So, again I ask: What is it now? You do realize your sugar-bear is off on vacay in the hills of Sun Valley, yes?”
“He’s not my—” she fumes, then stops short, cheeks reddening. “If you must know, we broke up.”
“Huh.” Logan laughs at this like it amuses him greatly. It probably does. Bastard. “Such a shame. And here I thought you two crazy kids were gonna make it for the long haul.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you thought so,” she retorts, admittedly a little lamely.
“So, is that what this is about?” he asks. “Are you returning a box full of precious memories from your time together? His varsity letter jacket, that movie ticket stub from your first date, old love letters and condom wrapper? Aww.”
“This doesn’t have to do with Duncan,” Veronica informs him. “Look, I just came here to… to ask you—”
She’s not even halfway finished with her reluctant invitation before he cuts her off.
“To what?” he snaps. “Have another round of the Echolls Inquisition? I’ve had enough false accusation for a lifetime, thanks.”
He steps back and starts to shut the door, but she sticks out her foot and catches it before it can close, then grabs the edge of the door and wrenches it back open. People tend to forget that she is stronger than she looks. Scrawny, her ass.
“--if you want to come over for Christmas,” she finishes, pissed.
He stares at her dumbly. “What?”
“I’m asking if you want to spend Christmas at my place.”
“Oh.” Logan straightens suddenly and looks her up and down as if he’s in on some joke she doesn’t get. “You don’t know, do you?”
“Don’t know what?” she asks suspiciously.
For a second—just the slightest second, a second that would go undetected if it weren’t for her expert eye— he hesitates, and then he says, “Trina and her latest squeeze-of-the-week invited me to party at his Malibu beachhouse,” though Veronica’s pretty positive that is not what he had planned on saying.
“Right,” she responds dryly. “That perfectly explains why she emailed me less than a week ago to say she’s headed to SoHo for the holidays. Actually, I think she said she’d be there for the next three months, if I recall correctly.”
Veronica’s all of five steps down the hall before he responds.
“Hey, you’ve been emailing my sister?” he calls after her.
“You’re lying,” she shoots back, brushing off the question. “Why?”
“Maybe I didn’t want to hurt your feelings when I turned down your offer.”
“Yes. Because you care so much about not hurting my feelings.”
He rolls his eyes in agitation. “So, you’re inviting me over. For Christmas. Okay. What exactly brought about this display of overwhelming generosity?”
She isn’t sure how she’s supposed to answer that. If it weren’t for her father and his annoyingly cryptic observations, and Duncan being gone, and Wallace’s sudden return, and whatever weird guilt trip she’d been sent on, she wouldn’t be here. Normally, this wouldn’t be happening.
Of course, if all went according to The Normal Plan, Veronica would be celebrating the holidays in a normal way. Like, say, exchanging gifts with her normal family and her normal boyfriend in her normal house.
Needless to say, The Normal Plan? Not being executed so well.
“What can I say?” She shrugs and smiles weakly. “I must be overcome with the holiday spirit.”
“Clearly.” Logan is unimpressed by this.
Finally, she sighs deeply, looking away from him. “If you don’t want to come, fine. I was just… trying to do something. But it doesn’t matter.”
She turns to leave when he stops her.
“Wait.” He seems to be deciding something for a moment, and then he opens the door up all the way. “Give me five minutes to put a damn shirt on and pack.”
**
On the way back, they hit a stoplight, and she tells him about Meg.
She doesn’t mention the baby.
Apparently he sometimes knows when to shut up, because all he says is, “Oh,” and nothing else. He drums his fingertips across his thigh. When she glimpses down at the movement, she’s startled, a little, at what she’d forgotten about him—the surprising tenderness and detail of his hands.
The light turns green. She’s relieved to have an excuse to look away.
**
No one says much when Veronica comes home with Logan in tow. Keith is sitting in the kitchen, peeling an orange and reading the paper, and he just mumbles a greeting around a piece of fruit, like he’s not surprised at all.
Wallace is chomping down on sugared cereal as he sits on the couch, flipping the channels, when he sees Veronica walk in.
“Yo, V, you gotta check this out, Bubbles just—” Suddenly he stops, catching sight of Logan behind her. “Oh, uh, hey, man.”
“Hey.” Logan’s eyes flicker to the television screen. “Are you watching The Powerpuff Girls?”
Wallace scrambles for the remote, flustered. “Nah, I—”
“Buttercup is my favorite,” Logan declares, flopping down on the couch beside him and propping his feet up on the tabletop. “She kicks so much ass. I love it.”
“Really? Y’know, I’m more into Blossom, myself,” Wallace replies as he moves to make room for Veronica.
She tosses her keys on the coffee table and sits down, surprised as they launch into an argument about which Powerpuff girl is the best.
Well, so much for worrying about awkwardness.
**
Darrell is a little firecracker of a kid. He and Alicia show up in the afternoon, and he comes barrelling through the door, into the living room, and straight into Wallace, wrapping his arms tight around his brother’s waist.
“Hey, little D,” Wallace laughs, his hand in his little brother’s hair. “Slow down!”
Alicia walks into the room carrying a bulky brown grocery bag. “Darrell, get over here and help me put this away.” She looks up and smiles at Veronica, albeit somewhat uncomfortably. “Hello, Veronica.”
Veronica attempts to smile back as easily as she can. “Hi, Alicia.”
Darrell looks up at Logan and blurts out, “Who’s that?”
Logan leans down toward him, waggling his eyebrows, and responds, “Only by far the coolest person you will ever meet in your entire existence.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Veroncia interjects, pushing him out of the way. “He’s just Logan. And unless you lead a very, very sheltered life and have a deranged definition of ‘cool,’ he will not be the coolest person you ever meet. Not even close. Actually, I doubt he’d make the top fifty.”
“Don’t trust a word she says,” Logan says to Darrell solemnly. He lowers his voice to a stage whisper. “She’s a girl. They all have cooties. Am I right?”
Darrell giggles and nods, studying Logan like he’s a new toy to play with, and Alicia watches on, looking torn between disapproval and amusement. Amusement must win out, because she just shakes her head and disappears into the kitchen without saying anything.
When she emerges, Keith is with her, pulling his coat on as he goes.
“All right, we’re heading out,” he announces.
“Oh, really?” Veronica lifts her chin and shoots him a look. “And where would that be?”
“Last minute shopping,” explains Alicia as she reaches for her purse. “We’ll be gone for a few hours. Wallace, watch your brother. His toys are in the kitchen, his juice boxes are in the fridge. And for the love of all that is holy, do not feed that boy too much sugar.”
“It’s all good, Mom,” Wallace assures her. “We got it under control.”
Alicia smiles, but it’s a little tight, like she doesn’t completely believe the truth in that statement. She pats the top of Wallace’s head affectionately before leaving with Keith.
“I wanna play,” Darrell immediately whines.
“You’ll have to wait for just a minute,” Veronica tells him. “We need to figure out what we’re doing today, okay?”
“Waiting is stupid.” Darrell pouts and stomps his foot. “Girls are stupid.” He glares at Veronica. “Stupid.”
“Darrell, no,” Wallace admonishes. “You can’t go around calling people stupid. That’s not cool.”
“Hey, I like this kid already.” Logan laughs and scoops Darrell up off the floor. “Come on, little dude. We’ll go look through your stash and see what you brought with.”
“So, you think they’re gonna work it out?” Wallace asks once they’ve left the room.
Veronica shrugs. “Well, I don’t think they’ll be choosing china patterns in the foreseeable future, but they seem okay. I mean, they must be if they decided to spend the holidays together, right? That’s a good sign.”
“Yeah,” he agrees pensively. “Just hope it’s not all for our benefit, you know?”
She does know. She also knows that some of it probably is due to them, their parents wanting to make things easier. But she doesn’t think it’s all a show; sure, things had been rough between them, but she thinks they can deal. If they work through it, they can come through okay.
It’d be nice, to see that. Someone around here deserves to be happy.
**
The contents of Darrell’s backpack mostly consist of his collection of battery-operated animals. Logan and him dig them out, and within minutes, they’re crawling all over the place.
Darrell claims that the best way to experience the animals is to turn them all on at once and sit down and let them walk around you. However, he does not object when Logan determines that Mister Beaver and Godzilla need to have a Death Match in the middle of the living room.
While the battle goes down, Veronica and Wallace drag out the fake plastic tree and work on setting it up. It doesn’t take too long; by the time they’re done, Godzilla has been proclaimed victor, and the tree is set up with lights and all. All that’s left are the ornaments.
Veronica, Wallace and Darrell sift through the old box of ornaments and work on dressing the trees. Logan hangs back, only intercepting to point out the bare spots and offer colorful commentary on Veronica’s assortment of homemade ornaments, to which her response is to repeatedly shoot glares in his direction. That, of course, only seems to egg him on.
“What is this supposed to be?” Logan asks, extracting a cottony ornament from the box and examining it with a wry sense of amusement. “The Michelin Man?”
“It’s a snowman, dumbass,” Veronica snaps as she wrestles it away from him.
Darrell snickers. “She called you a dumbass!”
“Oh, I can do better than that,” Logan says with a devious grin. “You know, Veronica’s really a—”
Before a single syllable can escape his lips, Veronica makes a spectacular dive at him, tackling him straight onto the couch.
“I told you not to listen to him,” she reminds Darrell with her hand pushed over Logan’s mouth. “He knows nothing. Right, Wallace?”
Wallace holds up his hands in a noncommittal gesture. “I refuse to get involved in this.”
“Whatever happened to BFF solidarity?” she exclaims.
“I know I’m hard to resist, but please restrain yourself and get off me.” Logan pokes her sharply in the ribs, and she lets out a yelp and jumps off him.
She frowns in his direction as she rubs her side, then glances at the tree. “Okay. Tree decoration appears to be complete. Next activity?”
“I want cookies,” pipes up Darrell.
“Snickerdoodles do sound pretty good,” Wallace points out.
Veronica purses her lips uncertainly. “Your mom said no sugar, didn’t she?”
“So what?” Logan pelts a pillow at her and stands, throwing his hands in the air theatrically. “It’s Christmas. ODing on sugar cookies is, like, obligatory.”
“Guy’s got a valid point,” agrees Wallace.
“Okay, okay! I give in.” She sighs defeatedly. “But if your mom gets pissed, you three are taking the fall.”
**
They play an album of Christmas songs as Veronica takes out all the ingredients and lines them up on the kitchen counter, then starts rummaging around for the cookie sheet. While she does this, Wallace tells her how Darrell was recently tested and discovered to have an abnormally high IQ for his age.
“My kid bro, the certified genius. Can you believe it?” he says, but he sounds purely proud, no trace of envy.
“Hey, um, the certified genius is throwing flour all over the floor,” Logan informs them suddenly. “And himself. And the dog.”
Backup whines and shakes, sending a cloud of white into the air; Darrell giggles at this as he reaches into the bag and tosses out another handful.
Wallace chases Darrell around the kitchen, yelling threats at him as he goes, before finally catching him by the back of the shirt collar and dragging him into the bathroom to scrub him down.
Veronica dumps the ingredients into the mixing bowl and shoves it into Logan’s hands.
“Stir,” she instructs.
“Aye, aye, Captain,” he says with a mock salute, grabbing the wooden spoon and stirring vigorously.
She catches him watching her intently as she cleans up the spilled flour.
“What?” she demands.
“Nothing,” he replies quickly, looking down at his bowl for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “Just didn’t realize you could be this… domestic. Doesn’t seem like you.”
“And you have such a firm grip on who I really am,” she notes dryly. “You know, I’m allowed to have my traditionally-gendered moments.”
“Oh really?” He fixes her with a look that tells her some idea is blooming in his mind. Likely, an idea that she will not particularly enjoy.
Logan sets down the mixing bowl and approaches her. Before she can protest, he’s grabbed her hand and yanked her to him, placing his own firmly on her hip.
“What are you doing?” she questions stiffly.
“Having a traditionally-gendered moment,” he counters, and suddenly he’s swinging her around the kitchen, dancing and swooping and sliding along to the Christmas song belting in the background. She’s too shocked to think to pull away as he spins and twirls her like she’s lighter than air. His arm is surprisingly strong and solid, locked tight around her waist.
He’s dipped her halfway to the floor when Wallace walks back in. They’re both caught offguard by his return, and Logan’s grip accidentally slips and she tumbles to the ground gracelessly with a yelp. She hastily scrambles to her feet again.
“Um,” says Wallace.
“Um,” says Veronica.
Logan just smirks.
“Uh, where are the extra towels?” Wallace asks.
“I’ll show you,” she tells him breathlessly, then rushes out of the room.
Even after she’s left, she can feel Logan’s eyes still on her.
**
Veronica reaches into the closet and hands Wallace a stack of freshly cleaned towels. “Here you go.”
Wallace takes them, then keeps staring at her.
She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Wallace, it’s not like that. I mean, it’s Logan.”
“Okay,” he says agreeably.
“I don’t need anyone like that, especially right now,” she tells him indignantly. “Aside from the fact that Logan’s penchant for trouble, drama, near-death experiences and general asshattery has not changed, I’m not going to be PingPong Girl, bouncing endlessly between two guys, okay? Okay. I’m taking an official breather from the romance department. Besides, I once was the queen of being alone. I know how to be alone.”
“Okay.” His tone is exasperatingly mild. “I’m gonna go now.”
Wallace turns and starts heading down the hallway.
“I do!” Veronica insists to his receding back.
**
By the time Alicia and Keith return, the tree is assembled and decorated, both Darrell and Backup are squeaky clean, the snickerdoodles are fully-baked, and everyone is gathered in front of the warm glow of the television, watching Ralphie attempt to convince Santa to bring him a Red Ryder BB gun.
Alicia works on fixing up dinner while Darrell keeps everyone else entertained by sitting on top of Logan’s head and belting out forty-five renditions of “We Wish You A Merry Christmas” (with “fish” being occasionally stuck in for “wish”), interspersed by “Jingle Bells, Batman Smells.”
Once the table is all set with delicious-looking food and everyone has proclaimed Alicia to be a goddess among mere mortals, Darrell says the prayer before they eat: “Dear Jesus, bless all the people all over the world, especially the ones who have no television and the ones who have no friends. Amen.”
Logan leans over to her and whispers, “Well, damn, if you don’t have either, you’re really fucked, huh?”
Veronica kicks his shin under the table and has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud.
**
Darrell is the first one to crash; Wallace follows soon after, and then Keith and Alicia slip into his bedroom and shut the door. Veronica sits on the floor, leaned up against the arm of the couch, while Logan drapes himself across the cushions.
She starts to make a quip about some stupid cell phone commercial that’s on, but when she turns her head, she sees that Logan is asleep already, curled up on his side, fist resting next to his mouth. He looks like such a little boy when he’s lost in sleep.
Veronica sighs in resignation and clambers to her feet. Might as well try and get a few hours of shut-eye. She looks over at Logan one last time and notices that the blanket isn’t covering him. What the hell, she thinks, and reaches over to stretch it across the length of his body. He stirs but doesn’t wake.
**
That night she has weird dreams; there’s snow everywhere, bright and blinding, but she isn’t cold. Wallace is watching Cartoon Network and scarfing down snickerdoodles, her father and Alicia are holding hands and speaking to each other in muted voices, and Darrell and Logan are surrounded by hundreds of battery-operated animals.
And Lilly makes a short cameo, declaring herself to be the Ghost of Christmas Awesomeness, and telling her how in the afterlife, she’s allowed to own as many pairs of killer Steve Madden heels and Dior handbags as she pleases.
When Veronica wakes up, she’s in her own bed, it’s seven o’clock and it hasn’t snowed. It’s just barely starting to get light outside, and she can smell… something burning?
Slightly alarmed, she makes her way to the kitchen, where she finds Logan and Darrell.
“It’s V-e-r-o-n-i-c-a,” Darrell announces, spelling out her name. “Does this mean I can open my p-r-e-s-e-n-t-s now?”
“Not yet, little dude,” Logan tells him and ruffles his hair.
“What are you two doing?” Veronica asks, rubbing her hand across her sleepy eyes. “What’s that burning smell?”
“Logan made bacon,” Darrell says.
She tilts her head and studies him curiously. “Oh, really?”
“Attempted, anyway,” Logan concedes, popping open the microwave to reveal small wafts of smoke curling out. “I, uh, may or may not have set a plate on fire. Briefly. So we gave it to the dog.”
Backup wags his tail and licks his chops contentedly from his spot on the floor.
Veronica is pretty sure she should be righteously pissed about this, but she can’t help it—she dissolves into laughter, the kind that leaves her holding herself up against the counter for support, and then Darrell follows suit, literally rolling around on the floor. Finally Logan gives in, burtsing into laughter and covering his face with one hand.
That’s how they’re found, a few minutes later, by her father, Alicia and Wallace. None of them can stop laughing long enough to explain the joke, but it doesn’t seem to matter.
She feels better than she has in weeks.
**
Darrell dives into tearing open his gifts at what has to be record speed. With each one he opens, his aweful smile grows wider and wider. Soon he’s surrounded by a formidable amount of toys and leftover wrapping paper.
Her father gives her her laptop—not a new one, just her old one, wrapped in a big red bow. At first she doesn’t get it, but he clarifies that it’s been completely upgraded.
“Your friend Mac told me what to do,” he explains. “She said it’s all top-of-the-line.”
Ah. So that explains the email.
“Thank you, Dad,” she tells him, leaning over to grab him in a tight hug. “I love it.”
Wallace gets her the new Snow Patrol album she’s been craving, and Alicia has bought her a new pullover hoodie. Her father gets her other assorted odds and ends—yummy-smelling body lotions, a new set of walkie talkies, the latest season of South Park on DVD, a pony-shaped stuffed animal (har, har, har).
The last gift she opens is small and narrow, the wrapping paper awkwardly wrapped around it with too much masking tape. Veronica pulls it off to reveal a pocketknife, her initials engraved in the handle. It’s smooth and cool in the palm of her hand, and when she angles it just right, the light thrown off the tree catches on the silver and makes it gleam.
She knows without being told who the gift is from. When she looks up, she meets Logan’s gaze and holds it for a long moment.
“Thanks,” she says sincerely, oddly touched.
“Figured it could help you get out of a scrape sometime.” He quirks his mouth at her in a knowing smile before looking away, picking at his sleeve.
Darrell picks up another gift and shakes it up against his ear, listening for a rattle. Then he looks at the tag and bounds up to Logan to drop it in his lap. “This one’s for you.”
Logan looks startled by this. He looks down at the package for a few seconds, then slowly begins to unwrap it. From her position, Veronica can only see that it looks like a picture frame—she can’t see the photo inside. Whatever it is, it’s causing Logan to blink furiously.
“How did you--?” Logan’s voice is thick, and he trails off without taking his gaze off of the picture. His eyes are wet.
“I’m good at tracking things down,” Keith answers. “It’s kind of what I do.”
Logan’s eyes snap up to his, and Veronica follows his stare to her father, stunned and more than a little confused. She has the feeling that something has altered without her knowledge; everything feels like it’s shifted.
She doesn’t really care for being out of the loop.
It isn’t until a half hour later, when all the presents are open and Logan has popped into the bathroom, Wallace is in the kitchen to help Alicia make pancakes, and Darrell is completely engrossed with his new RoboRaptor, that curiosity gets the best of her—she finds the frame half-hidden underneath some tissue paper and flips it over to see the picture.
It’s a photo of Logan, young, maybe four or five, inside of a limo. He’s dressed in a small tux and fast asleep, tucked in his mother’s lap, head resting against her chest. Lynn has her arms around him and is smiling serenely. Not the practiced, fake Hollywood smile that’s plastered on magazine covers—it’s the kind of look that only comes when you don’t think you’re being watched.
She looks so happy, there. She looks so far away from a woman who later chose to die, who chose to leave that sleeping boy behind to fend for himself.
When Veronica glances up, she finds her father standing over her, a somber expression on his face.
“Where did you get this?” she asks him softly.
“Lynn has a sister in Texas,” he explains. “It was taken at a movie premiere in Austin twelve years ago.”
“Why? Why did you—”
“Does it really matter?”
Veronica looks back down to the photograph in her hands, tracing her thumb around the frame’s edge. “I guess not.”
Keith leans down and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “Come on, honey. Let’s go get something to eat.”
**
In the kitchen, Keith stands behind Alicia as she flips pancakes and hums along to Christmas songs on the radio, making her laugh. Logan is dangling a giggling Darrell upside-down by the ankles, much to the boy’s delight. Wallace has saved a spot for her next to him at the table.
Veronica thinks about how things would be different, if things all went according to The Normal Plan: Her best friend wouldn’t be here, and her father wouldn’t have Alicia to celebrate with. There would be a boy spending a very lonely—even if he’d never admit it— Christmas by himself in a deserted hotel suite. Her kitchen table would not be so cramped with chairs to make room for everyone.
This is what living is, she thinks: this tapestry. The way their lives weave together, all the warmth and the bad days and the near-perfect moments-- everything.
Needless to say, the novelty of The Normal Plan is really starting to wear off.
**
Veronica clicks Send, and she wonders what Mac will think, what she’ll look like, when she reads the words.
++end
More A/N: I am still astounded at how easily this story flowed out of me. Which probably means it isn't very good. Still, I had a blast writing it, because I rarely delve into fluff territory. Points of interest: If anyone claims that the whole setting-a-plate-of-bacon-on-fire-in-a-mi
Yes, I am rambling and will shut up now.
