Title: "Losing Grip"
Author: monimala
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Character/Pairing: Veronica, L/V, Weevil
Rating: AC
Word Count: 400
Disclaimer: I'm not making a profit. More's the pity.
Summary: Veronica is dying.
Spoilers/Warnings: Set nebulously in the future, no spoilers. Dark themes, language.
Veronica is dying. Her neck bent at awkward angles, white bone, tissue and blood all on display for the world. Over the rushing in her ears, from across what feels like the Grand Canyon, she can hear Weevil yelling, "You killed her, you sonofabitch. You fucking killed her!" and Logan stammering --he always stammers now-- "No, no, I didn't mean to. She slipped." She always slips now. "I tried… I tried to catch her… OhgodohgodohgodVeronica."
She wants to tell Weevil "no," but her lips won't move. They're numb, just like the rest of her.
Logan held on too tightly. Like always. His fingers pressed white marks into her wrist. And she was suffocating, needed space, just a little bit… so she wrenched away. She teetered at the top of the stairs before pitching backwards. Logan reached out for her. She didn't take his hand. She could have. So easily.
Now Veronica is bleeding. Paralyzed. Dying while they dial 911. Maybe she's been this way all along. All this time. This is just the final blow. Her own crystal ashtray finally connected.
Logan says her name over and over again and Weevil, fingers stained red, growls, "Shut up. Shut the fuck up and call the sheriff. Mr. Mars. Not Lamb."
Yes, she wants her dad. She wants her daddy but he's in San Antonio and he kissed her and told her to mind Backup before he left. Backup's always been a lax guardian… but too bad she didn't listen to that last, sharp bark.
"You owe me 250 bucks, V. Don't you dare stiff me. You hear me?" And Weevil… bullying her when all he really wants to say is that he's loved her since she tasered Felix outside the Camelot.
Maybe if he'd said it…
Maybe…
She hears "Don't leave me," and "I can't lose you." Logan is still holding on too tight and she can't breathe.
Veronica is dying. Her neck bent at awkward angles, white bone, tissue and blood all on display for the world.
She can't move.
Until, suddenly, she can.
"God, Veronica Mars," Lilly sighs, holding out her hand and insistently wiggling it. "It took you long enough."
She smiles as their fingers interlace. "It would've been sooner if Logan could just let go."
When she, somehow, finds the strength to follow a girl in green and white gym clothes, her footing is steady and true.
--end--
February 19, 2007.