Title: "Resurrection Blvd." 1/1
Author: monimala
Fandom: VMars
Rating/Classification: SAC for language, angst, adult themes. V/Lamb, V/Logan-ish, 400 words.
Disclaimer: Nope, they're still not mine.
Summary: Eighth in the Loserverse series. There's no more room at the Veronica Inn.
She dumps Logan on a Wednesday, two days after she's had a D&C. She figures there's some kind of message, some meaning, in having her insides suctioned clean, in having the last vestiges of another life scraped out of her womb. No, it's more than metaphoric, it's a goddamned neon sign that there's no more room at the Veronica Inn.
She's done. She's had enough. She cannot keep lying, even though it's one of the few things she does effortlessly. Like breathing or walking or cheating on a painfully reformed 09er who, for all intents and purposes, seems to adore her.
She doesn't even bother saying "I hope we can still be friends." Because she knows they won't be. She knows it even before he gets that Look in his eyes, that devastated, dark and betrayed look that turns him back into the Logan she was attracted to in the first place.
He punches the wall next to her head, leaving a hole that her dad is going to love...and kickstarting the faintest tendrils of "ohGodyesandIwantyou" low in her belly. She has to laugh...she has to laugh that breaking his heart is what makes him sexy to her again. No other reaction can remotely cover the sheer insanity of it. She's still cracking up long after he's hopped into the XTerra and peeled out of the Sunset Cliffs parking lot fast enough to qualify as vehicular suicide.
By the time she's in the LeBaron, heading over to the county courthouse on autopilot, the hilarity has subsided to gasps and wheezes, has given way to hitching breaths that are too dry to be the tears any respectable girlfriend would shed at a time like this. Because she's not respectable. She's not a girlfriend. She miscarried a baby with two fathers and no future and she thinks that, somewhere, Lilly is laughing.
*"What's become of you, Veronica Mars? You're making me look like a saint."*
"You know how the song goes, Lil'," she whispers to the rearview mirror, "only the good die young."
"'Good'?" Lilly's eyes shine like bloodied bathroom tile. "Darling, I was fabulous."
When Lamb slams her up against the bars of the empty drunk tank, the metal is deliciously cool between her breasts -- as cool as his hand is warm between her thighs -- and Veronica feels fabulous, too.
She feels fabulous…and forgiven.
For all the sins yet to come.
--end--
August 14, 2006