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Title: two sides to every coin
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
duckytears
Rating: R
Word Count: 3259 words
Character/Pairing: Logan/Meg
Summary: Guilt filling his gut, he settles for another blonde instead, filling the space that the last left.
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers up to (2x11) "Donut Run" and very vaguely (2x13) "Ain't No Magic Mountain High Enough."
Disclaimer: They're not mine. They belong to Rob Thomas.
Author's Note: Written foratomic_eyes. Keywords that I used were 'Blue/Hush/Photographs.' Sort of stream of consciousness dark fic. The stuff that dreams are made of.
two sides to every coin
heads
He's not sure that they talk to each other the way that they should. For two people who are fast - in a fools rush in Elvis sort of thing - the conversation is satisfying. They speak to each other like they've known each other for years (which technically is true), but Logan has never found the need to associate with Meg Manning throughout this entire time.
She was going to be just another photograph in a yearbook of faces that eluded his mind. He might have even scratched an inscription in one of her pages with sticky blue ink; five words:
Have a great summer.
Logan.
and that would have been it. No, he picks the one girl in the world that he would have never thought could ever comprehend him and the only one who does. Or maybe she picked him. He can't remember. The only thing he remembers about that night is a party Dick threw, a bruise on his jaw that made him bite his own tongue on impact and her lips over the purpled area later when he asked her if she'd kiss it better jokingly.
There's more that he remembers: her lips warm and sticky against that space, the distinctive taste of raspberry lip gloss and the clear smell of citrus orange and lemon as he slipped off her sweater.
The thing is that she shouldn't have kissed him in the first place. It's something she knows. She's not easy or some sort of fast machine. Girls who've done what she's just done - girls, in general, who've done Logan Echolls - seem to get slapped with that horrifying label on their foreheads: S L U T, it reads in big red letters.
She feels stupid.
No, stupid is an understatement, Meg decides. She mentally goes through a thesaurus of words synonymous to stupid - idiotic, foolish, thickheaded, slow, half-baked - until she finally gets to naive. She's naive. She's really naive. Naive to think that Duncan had ever loved her, naive to think that even having this fling whatever (sleeping with Logan) would amount to anything productive and naive to even be talking to him still. It should have been fairly obvious that they weren't good at talking in the first place. In fact, she wasn't even sure they were good at the other not talking thing they had done. Still, she's chosen to try to see him - the real Logan Echolls, whoever he is.
"Why'd Dick invite him anyway?"
"Sympathy?"
"Don't get him angry, man, he might stab you."
"You know, I don't think he has the guts with all these witnesses."
"Maybe he'll just take off on that bridge again, go into that watery sleep with mommy dearest."
"At least I'd get some peace now, wouldn't I?"
"Who's stopping you? Your trailer trash ex? Your--"
"You hit him!"
"Seemed like the thing to do."
"God, you really are a psycho."
"I don't want to fail this project," Meg tells him, biting her lower lip nervously. She feels queasy inside from this whole partnering up idea and she's pretty sure Logan isn't thrilled. There's never been an actual way to figure out if he's being sarcastic or just lazy.
"So, do it," Logan's looking away from her and she knows it's both and she thinks it's because of her. Or maybe he has someone else on his mind. She looks for Veronica and Duncan in the hallway, but they're not in view.
"It's a team project," she clarifies.
Now, Logan's looking past her and she doesn't exist. It shouldn't matter, but she feels some sharp stab of pain inside when he looks into her eyes and doesn't even see her. He repeats her words, "A team project."
"Yeah." She sounds almost disappointed. He picks up on that almost automatically and focuses on her and she can feel him bearing into her.
"I have something to do after school, but I can be by your house in the evening."
Panic sets quickly into her body. Her house equals her parents, and despite them hating everything belonging to the Echolls name, she's a little bit ashamed of them. "I'll come by your house later," she says too sharply and he nods. When he turns to leave, she realizes that the way he's said that he has something to do after school sounds a lot like he has someone to do after school.
There's a burn that she notices on the inside of his palm as he writes. She stops their report on Pride and Prejudice to ask about it. "Where did you get that?" Her eyelashes touch her cheeks and she slips the pencil out of his hand to look closer.
"An accident," he replies easily before picking up the writing utensil again.
"What's that?" he asks her to repeat and Logan's surprised he's even bothering to talk to Veronica about this. In general, he'd much rather snap towards her and fight with her - do anything to get a reaction from her.
"Turn on the news for once, Logan." Veronica's eyes are filled with unshed tears. "The bus, that one you were supposed to be on too, just went over. So, your girlfriend, she's gone."
"She's not my girlfriend," he scoffs, though he's tempted to make a crack about how none of his girlfriends happen to last long anyway.
"Not anymore," Veronica replies.
Meg does survive the crash, he later learns, and he thinks he should care a little more. He swears this time around that he'll try a little harder, but she never wakes up for him.
The next time Meg comes up in conversation is after Veronica does some of her magic. The Mannings are revealed to be a psychotic addition to the great collection of families Neptune has welcomed. He's not even sure what he's feeling in his gut, but the one thing he knows for sure is that he feels closer to someone than he has in a long time.
Maybe he should have been put in a coma too.
Where were you when Meg Manning died? It's a question - something - that seems to be the topic of this week's discussion at Neptune High. They make it sound important and inadequate at the same time. Important because finally someone has noticed her for not being a good girl (something she would debate being herself - good person, maybe, but she wasn't the best) and inadequate because it'll be over in about two seconds. These are Miss Manning's fifteen minutes of fame and she's not even here to witness it.
It's pathetic. It's a waste. It's a question that means nothing. Others like it (i.e. where were you when JFK was assassinated? or what were you doing when the twin towers fell?) overshadowed it by far. Half of the people who claim to have felt chills up their spine were probably taking a dump or eating dinner or doing trivial things that won't matter in the end. Meg Manning and her blood clot sure won't. It was going to fade in a week. In a month, people would start forgetting and in another year Meg's replacement (on the cheerleading squad, on the Navigator, next to him) wouldn't even know her name.
Even at this point, Logan's not so sure that he's ever known the real Meg Manning and the one that people should be aware of - two things that are not necessarily the same. He tries to face the facts, as per usual, because if he deals with facts nothing else will take over. It was the same way when Lilly died. He cried (alone) and then told himself over and over again that she was dead. She was dead and nothing would bring her back. Facts are why he likes science and math - one answer to every question, proof to anything, rules and laws just to have stability. English - cum - Drama (Jesus Christ, Mom and Dad would be so fucking proud), however, was a truer calling and it was a hell of a lot more fitting. He indulged. He indulged and there was no room for that in something like physics or calculus.
So, he figures breaking laws are better than nothing.
For a while he'll play the grieving boyfriend, the guy who's had his whole life wreck over (again) by a tragic incident. At least for a while. He'll later swear the death of his girlfriends (multiple) is some sign that God, or whatever fucking higher power that's messing with him, wants him single. He'll comply, discover celibacy and rediscover sex, go back and forth between trying to straighten himself up and trying to crumble himself down, and what ever happens he'll bounce back from it - even if no one ever wants him happy.
Happiness is a precious heirloom he'll search out like the Holy Grail. And he won't stop. He'll never stop. The only things that come to mind (no pun intended) with the ability to even halt him are blood clots and ash trays - and maybe freezers on fire too - even then it's questionable. It seems too cliche to be fighting death all the time.
Bundled in what seems to be yards of pastel yellow fabric that reminds him of Meg's yellow sundress, he lets the little thing - baby shaped, eventually more of a girl shape later in life - grip onto his thumb with surprising strength unexpected from a newborn, he thinks.
"Jesus Christ, you have a kid," Trina gapes and he's sure he gets points for shock factor.
"I do," Logan replies.
Fighting fathers seems to be a bit too cliche too.
tails
There are very few things that Logan knows for sure and this is sadly one of them. One of the things he's not sure of is what to do when hovering over Meg's hospital bed as the soft beeps of electronic sounding heart pulses fill the air. There's one of those finger things on her left hand - the kind that monitor not only heart beat but he's pretty sure blood pressure as well.
The smell gets to him. It's some mix and is as sour as the chlorine smell his swimming pool used to get when Mrs. Navarro used to clean it. It reminds him of the home his grandmother lived in before she decided that she couldn't see her son anymore. The old bitch is probably dead anyway and he's not sure if he cares much (or even if he should). In his head, he can hear his father's voice - very particular and very sharp - telling him that he's just like his old man. All he hears is the endless throbbing of his own pulse telling him he's down for the count. Somewhere, he knows, it's because he deserved it anyway.
The other sound - quicker and softer, a drum beat going through him - is coming from a machine with wires strapped to her swollen and very much pregnant stomach. The one thing Logan knows for sure is that the kid - baby, fetus, whatever - that Meg is carrying is not Duncan's.
This is what Logan knows.
She's already drunk when he finally decides to show up at that party. She's mourning and counting the things she has to be thankful for on one hand as she spills beer on her yellow sun-dress with the other. He doesn't know her. He doesn't know her, but in an instant he knows why
Duncan got to know her. Because this -
these fragments -
are exactly the same fragments that Veronica crunched into. He knows because he helped with that too, but he doesn't know Meg and he doesn't feel comfortable around her. Logan's not even sure why he fought off the guy trying to feed the mess of Meg another shot of vodka, but he did. She clings to him and calls him Duncan - her hero - and he shuts his eyes to pretend.
When he opens his eyes, the fragments of Meg are gone - swept up - and he wakes up in the guest bedroom with her by his side.
For once in his life he feels really naked.
There are seconds when he thinks she's going to wake up and accuse him of a rape that never occurred because the two of them sleeping together never happened. He pinches himself and says that it's a dream, but he just won't wake up from this fucked up drug induced fantasy.
This is only something Veronica Mars would dream.
When Meg rouses from her sleep, he hands over her underwear and promises he'll call her. She looks horrified - her mouth gaped open is a look he can't get out of his head - and he kisses her mouth before leaving. Hopefully, forever.
He was the drunk at the party. She was sure that he was a bottle away from dancing around with the lamp shade on his head if she thought he'd ever be a performer instead of a lousy drunk. Depressed, he was miserable because Veronica had dumped him - again. Again was the keyword. In fact, it should have been a key word for Veronica. Veronica had been doing a lot of things again: Duncan, Logan. Back again. Logan, Duncan.
Meg didn't have that luxury of choosing or even being wanted the way that Veronica was. She keeps trying to draw the lines of whom she's angry at and whom she's jealous over and she too starts to go back and forth - Veronica, Duncan - and back again.
That's when she sees Logan alone on the couch, nursing a bottle of cheap beer. When she goes to sit beside him, she spills her own drink on her pastel yellow sun-dress. It's messy and sloppy and she almost drops her drink completely. She feels clumsy and like a virgin (minus any comparing to Madonna) even though she's not.
The only thing that bothers her is that she has some sort of plan in her head and it involves Logan Echolls in the first place. She doesn't even like him. He's just another spoiled rich kid with some need to die of alcohol poisoning even before he turns 21. She likes to think she's not interested in revenge, but she's sure that out of everyone he shares her need.
It's just pain. It's just pain. It's just pain, but it won't go away.
The conversation she forms with him is slow and awkward and at one point he asks if she's happy. She says Yes but it's really No with different letters. Good for you, Meg, he says in a tired tone and he fucking kisses her. This wasn't part of the plan, but she's sure that the plan is screwed anyway. No one is paying attention - their peers are only concerned within the shadows and nothing that creates the dance of light and dark - so she kisses him back.
Logan's lips are messy against her because he's been drinking but his hands are exact and precise - she only assumes practice makes perfect. His lips make her forget the imprint of long lasting stupid has brought her. The path to God is paved with righteousness and she is going straight to hell because his fingers have found their way up her skirt. She's melting. She's just melting despite the horrible scent of alcohol on his breath. All that matters is if he can melt her away
- Duncan never could.
There's a series of events that he can't tell if are fact or fiction - they vary in color or black and white. He's caught on that the hushed technicolor visions are lies (because real life is loud). It starts with Felix's murder and ends with Duncan taking away a small baby from a dead girl he's fucked.
He doesn't call but they have a conversation a few weeks later in school when they're assigned an English project together. It's short and sweet - much like their sex life, Meg wants to joke.
So, you'll do it, he says.
Of course, she replies, hiding her flushed face behind her locker or her books.
A week later, Meg goes over with the bus just as he nails Dick and Beaver's whore of a step-mom. Kendall does this fake porn-star moan with heat into his ear, he comes, Meg's head is knocked against one of the glass windows knocking her unconscious and into a coma and he thinks it's the end of the story.
She is covered in blue and she's not pregnant. It's not Duncan in her dreams, but Logan, and she thinks that it's weird. She didn't think about him much before and she shouldn't think about him now. They're sitting across from each other on a bed and he's sitting indian position with his hands on his knees. He's fully clothed and specifically not drunk, but he's not smiling either. He's not even frowning.
She can't read him - that's the whole problem. Duncan could have read him. Duncan seemed to have known him up to the night of his disaster of a surprise birthday party that hismurdererfather had thrown. Kissing Veronica made him different altogether, apparently.
He's not making a move on her so she starts talking in a rushed tone, afraid that her words will never come out.
"Gracie's home alone. I should go home."
"I know."
"Alone."
"Aren't your parents with her?" He asks.
"She's still alone," she replies.
She can tell that Logan knows that - and he understands what she's trying to say about family life in an instant. It's fucked, she can't remember the Aaron Echolls: The Murderer didn't equal Aaron Echolls: The Family Man. It makes sense now. It all makes sense now. He strips off his shirt and it's not sexy this time. All she sees are holes in him.
"Do you have scars?" He asks again.
She shakes her head, trying to remember that no means yes. "Only on the inside," she replies.
Logan doesn't ask anymore questions. He merely meets her darkened doe eyes pitying her or, alternatively, himself.
He doesn't think of her much. Even after his brief visit to the hospital - finding out that she was pregnant as she fed Veronica and Duncan the lie that he wanted to believe - he tries to push her as much as he can out of his mind.
It's probably what his father did when he found out that his mother was carrying their precious love (fuck) child. He's sure that his father pushed him out of his mind as much as he could (he was just more persistent in life) and wished for an accident or an abortion. Well, he didn't ask to be born either. Everyone makes mistakes.
Meg knows it's not Duncan's child. She strokes her stomach tentatively to calm the hard kicks that send her reeling inside and shuts her eyes to pretend.
The path to God is paved with righteousness. These are notebooks (parents) he wants to tear in two. He doesn't believe. He doesn't believe and nothing will save him.
He doesn't think of her much. Duncan's gone (Veronica's gone, Meg's gone) and the baby - the little girl, Lilly - is gone. The only constant in his life is that everyone leaves and he never bothers to make them stay. Maybe, he thinks, if he hadn't wished for it in the first place perpetual loneliness wouldn't exist.
At the very least, he'll look back on photographs that don't exist and remember her. Guilt filling his gut, he settles for another blonde instead, filling the space that the last left.
Author:
duckytearsRating: R
Word Count: 3259 words
Character/Pairing: Logan/Meg
Summary: Guilt filling his gut, he settles for another blonde instead, filling the space that the last left.
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers up to (2x11) "Donut Run" and very vaguely (2x13) "Ain't No Magic Mountain High Enough."
Disclaimer: They're not mine. They belong to Rob Thomas.
Author's Note: Written for
atomic_eyes. Keywords that I used were 'Blue/Hush/Photographs.' Sort of stream of consciousness dark fic. The stuff that dreams are made of.heads
He's not sure that they talk to each other the way that they should. For two people who are fast - in a fools rush in Elvis sort of thing - the conversation is satisfying. They speak to each other like they've known each other for years (which technically is true), but Logan has never found the need to associate with Meg Manning throughout this entire time.
She was going to be just another photograph in a yearbook of faces that eluded his mind. He might have even scratched an inscription in one of her pages with sticky blue ink; five words:
Have a great summer.
Logan.
and that would have been it. No, he picks the one girl in the world that he would have never thought could ever comprehend him and the only one who does. Or maybe she picked him. He can't remember. The only thing he remembers about that night is a party Dick threw, a bruise on his jaw that made him bite his own tongue on impact and her lips over the purpled area later when he asked her if she'd kiss it better jokingly.
There's more that he remembers: her lips warm and sticky against that space, the distinctive taste of raspberry lip gloss and the clear smell of citrus orange and lemon as he slipped off her sweater.
The thing is that she shouldn't have kissed him in the first place. It's something she knows. She's not easy or some sort of fast machine. Girls who've done what she's just done - girls, in general, who've done Logan Echolls - seem to get slapped with that horrifying label on their foreheads: S L U T, it reads in big red letters.
She feels stupid.
No, stupid is an understatement, Meg decides. She mentally goes through a thesaurus of words synonymous to stupid - idiotic, foolish, thickheaded, slow, half-baked - until she finally gets to naive. She's naive. She's really naive. Naive to think that Duncan had ever loved her, naive to think that even having this fling whatever (sleeping with Logan) would amount to anything productive and naive to even be talking to him still. It should have been fairly obvious that they weren't good at talking in the first place. In fact, she wasn't even sure they were good at the other not talking thing they had done. Still, she's chosen to try to see him - the real Logan Echolls, whoever he is.
"Why'd Dick invite him anyway?"
"Sympathy?"
"Don't get him angry, man, he might stab you."
"You know, I don't think he has the guts with all these witnesses."
"Maybe he'll just take off on that bridge again, go into that watery sleep with mommy dearest."
"At least I'd get some peace now, wouldn't I?"
"Who's stopping you? Your trailer trash ex? Your--"
"You hit him!"
"Seemed like the thing to do."
"God, you really are a psycho."
"I don't want to fail this project," Meg tells him, biting her lower lip nervously. She feels queasy inside from this whole partnering up idea and she's pretty sure Logan isn't thrilled. There's never been an actual way to figure out if he's being sarcastic or just lazy.
"So, do it," Logan's looking away from her and she knows it's both and she thinks it's because of her. Or maybe he has someone else on his mind. She looks for Veronica and Duncan in the hallway, but they're not in view.
"It's a team project," she clarifies.
Now, Logan's looking past her and she doesn't exist. It shouldn't matter, but she feels some sharp stab of pain inside when he looks into her eyes and doesn't even see her. He repeats her words, "A team project."
"Yeah." She sounds almost disappointed. He picks up on that almost automatically and focuses on her and she can feel him bearing into her.
"I have something to do after school, but I can be by your house in the evening."
Panic sets quickly into her body. Her house equals her parents, and despite them hating everything belonging to the Echolls name, she's a little bit ashamed of them. "I'll come by your house later," she says too sharply and he nods. When he turns to leave, she realizes that the way he's said that he has something to do after school sounds a lot like he has someone to do after school.
There's a burn that she notices on the inside of his palm as he writes. She stops their report on Pride and Prejudice to ask about it. "Where did you get that?" Her eyelashes touch her cheeks and she slips the pencil out of his hand to look closer.
"An accident," he replies easily before picking up the writing utensil again.
"What's that?" he asks her to repeat and Logan's surprised he's even bothering to talk to Veronica about this. In general, he'd much rather snap towards her and fight with her - do anything to get a reaction from her.
"Turn on the news for once, Logan." Veronica's eyes are filled with unshed tears. "The bus, that one you were supposed to be on too, just went over. So, your girlfriend, she's gone."
"She's not my girlfriend," he scoffs, though he's tempted to make a crack about how none of his girlfriends happen to last long anyway.
"Not anymore," Veronica replies.
Meg does survive the crash, he later learns, and he thinks he should care a little more. He swears this time around that he'll try a little harder, but she never wakes up for him.
The next time Meg comes up in conversation is after Veronica does some of her magic. The Mannings are revealed to be a psychotic addition to the great collection of families Neptune has welcomed. He's not even sure what he's feeling in his gut, but the one thing he knows for sure is that he feels closer to someone than he has in a long time.
Maybe he should have been put in a coma too.
Where were you when Meg Manning died? It's a question - something - that seems to be the topic of this week's discussion at Neptune High. They make it sound important and inadequate at the same time. Important because finally someone has noticed her for not being a good girl (something she would debate being herself - good person, maybe, but she wasn't the best) and inadequate because it'll be over in about two seconds. These are Miss Manning's fifteen minutes of fame and she's not even here to witness it.
It's pathetic. It's a waste. It's a question that means nothing. Others like it (i.e. where were you when JFK was assassinated? or what were you doing when the twin towers fell?) overshadowed it by far. Half of the people who claim to have felt chills up their spine were probably taking a dump or eating dinner or doing trivial things that won't matter in the end. Meg Manning and her blood clot sure won't. It was going to fade in a week. In a month, people would start forgetting and in another year Meg's replacement (on the cheerleading squad, on the Navigator, next to him) wouldn't even know her name.
Even at this point, Logan's not so sure that he's ever known the real Meg Manning and the one that people should be aware of - two things that are not necessarily the same. He tries to face the facts, as per usual, because if he deals with facts nothing else will take over. It was the same way when Lilly died. He cried (alone) and then told himself over and over again that she was dead. She was dead and nothing would bring her back. Facts are why he likes science and math - one answer to every question, proof to anything, rules and laws just to have stability. English - cum - Drama (Jesus Christ, Mom and Dad would be so fucking proud), however, was a truer calling and it was a hell of a lot more fitting. He indulged. He indulged and there was no room for that in something like physics or calculus.
So, he figures breaking laws are better than nothing.
For a while he'll play the grieving boyfriend, the guy who's had his whole life wreck over (again) by a tragic incident. At least for a while. He'll later swear the death of his girlfriends (multiple) is some sign that God, or whatever fucking higher power that's messing with him, wants him single. He'll comply, discover celibacy and rediscover sex, go back and forth between trying to straighten himself up and trying to crumble himself down, and what ever happens he'll bounce back from it - even if no one ever wants him happy.
Happiness is a precious heirloom he'll search out like the Holy Grail. And he won't stop. He'll never stop. The only things that come to mind (no pun intended) with the ability to even halt him are blood clots and ash trays - and maybe freezers on fire too - even then it's questionable. It seems too cliche to be fighting death all the time.
Bundled in what seems to be yards of pastel yellow fabric that reminds him of Meg's yellow sundress, he lets the little thing - baby shaped, eventually more of a girl shape later in life - grip onto his thumb with surprising strength unexpected from a newborn, he thinks.
"Jesus Christ, you have a kid," Trina gapes and he's sure he gets points for shock factor.
"I do," Logan replies.
Fighting fathers seems to be a bit too cliche too.
tails
There are very few things that Logan knows for sure and this is sadly one of them. One of the things he's not sure of is what to do when hovering over Meg's hospital bed as the soft beeps of electronic sounding heart pulses fill the air. There's one of those finger things on her left hand - the kind that monitor not only heart beat but he's pretty sure blood pressure as well.
The smell gets to him. It's some mix and is as sour as the chlorine smell his swimming pool used to get when Mrs. Navarro used to clean it. It reminds him of the home his grandmother lived in before she decided that she couldn't see her son anymore. The old bitch is probably dead anyway and he's not sure if he cares much (or even if he should). In his head, he can hear his father's voice - very particular and very sharp - telling him that he's just like his old man. All he hears is the endless throbbing of his own pulse telling him he's down for the count. Somewhere, he knows, it's because he deserved it anyway.
The other sound - quicker and softer, a drum beat going through him - is coming from a machine with wires strapped to her swollen and very much pregnant stomach. The one thing Logan knows for sure is that the kid - baby, fetus, whatever - that Meg is carrying is not Duncan's.
This is what Logan knows.
She's already drunk when he finally decides to show up at that party. She's mourning and counting the things she has to be thankful for on one hand as she spills beer on her yellow sun-dress with the other. He doesn't know her. He doesn't know her, but in an instant he knows why
Duncan got to know her. Because this -
these fragments -
are exactly the same fragments that Veronica crunched into. He knows because he helped with that too, but he doesn't know Meg and he doesn't feel comfortable around her. Logan's not even sure why he fought off the guy trying to feed the mess of Meg another shot of vodka, but he did. She clings to him and calls him Duncan - her hero - and he shuts his eyes to pretend.
When he opens his eyes, the fragments of Meg are gone - swept up - and he wakes up in the guest bedroom with her by his side.
For once in his life he feels really naked.
There are seconds when he thinks she's going to wake up and accuse him of a rape that never occurred because the two of them sleeping together never happened. He pinches himself and says that it's a dream, but he just won't wake up from this fucked up drug induced fantasy.
This is only something Veronica Mars would dream.
When Meg rouses from her sleep, he hands over her underwear and promises he'll call her. She looks horrified - her mouth gaped open is a look he can't get out of his head - and he kisses her mouth before leaving. Hopefully, forever.
He was the drunk at the party. She was sure that he was a bottle away from dancing around with the lamp shade on his head if she thought he'd ever be a performer instead of a lousy drunk. Depressed, he was miserable because Veronica had dumped him - again. Again was the keyword. In fact, it should have been a key word for Veronica. Veronica had been doing a lot of things again: Duncan, Logan. Back again. Logan, Duncan.
Meg didn't have that luxury of choosing or even being wanted the way that Veronica was. She keeps trying to draw the lines of whom she's angry at and whom she's jealous over and she too starts to go back and forth - Veronica, Duncan - and back again.
That's when she sees Logan alone on the couch, nursing a bottle of cheap beer. When she goes to sit beside him, she spills her own drink on her pastel yellow sun-dress. It's messy and sloppy and she almost drops her drink completely. She feels clumsy and like a virgin (minus any comparing to Madonna) even though she's not.
The only thing that bothers her is that she has some sort of plan in her head and it involves Logan Echolls in the first place. She doesn't even like him. He's just another spoiled rich kid with some need to die of alcohol poisoning even before he turns 21. She likes to think she's not interested in revenge, but she's sure that out of everyone he shares her need.
It's just pain. It's just pain. It's just pain, but it won't go away.
The conversation she forms with him is slow and awkward and at one point he asks if she's happy. She says Yes but it's really No with different letters. Good for you, Meg, he says in a tired tone and he fucking kisses her. This wasn't part of the plan, but she's sure that the plan is screwed anyway. No one is paying attention - their peers are only concerned within the shadows and nothing that creates the dance of light and dark - so she kisses him back.
Logan's lips are messy against her because he's been drinking but his hands are exact and precise - she only assumes practice makes perfect. His lips make her forget the imprint of long lasting stupid has brought her. The path to God is paved with righteousness and she is going straight to hell because his fingers have found their way up her skirt. She's melting. She's just melting despite the horrible scent of alcohol on his breath. All that matters is if he can melt her away
- Duncan never could.
There's a series of events that he can't tell if are fact or fiction - they vary in color or black and white. He's caught on that the hushed technicolor visions are lies (because real life is loud). It starts with Felix's murder and ends with Duncan taking away a small baby from a dead girl he's fucked.
He doesn't call but they have a conversation a few weeks later in school when they're assigned an English project together. It's short and sweet - much like their sex life, Meg wants to joke.
So, you'll do it, he says.
Of course, she replies, hiding her flushed face behind her locker or her books.
A week later, Meg goes over with the bus just as he nails Dick and Beaver's whore of a step-mom. Kendall does this fake porn-star moan with heat into his ear, he comes, Meg's head is knocked against one of the glass windows knocking her unconscious and into a coma and he thinks it's the end of the story.
She is covered in blue and she's not pregnant. It's not Duncan in her dreams, but Logan, and she thinks that it's weird. She didn't think about him much before and she shouldn't think about him now. They're sitting across from each other on a bed and he's sitting indian position with his hands on his knees. He's fully clothed and specifically not drunk, but he's not smiling either. He's not even frowning.
She can't read him - that's the whole problem. Duncan could have read him. Duncan seemed to have known him up to the night of his disaster of a surprise birthday party that his
He's not making a move on her so she starts talking in a rushed tone, afraid that her words will never come out.
"Gracie's home alone. I should go home."
"I know."
"Alone."
"Aren't your parents with her?" He asks.
"She's still alone," she replies.
She can tell that Logan knows that - and he understands what she's trying to say about family life in an instant. It's fucked, she can't remember the Aaron Echolls: The Murderer didn't equal Aaron Echolls: The Family Man. It makes sense now. It all makes sense now. He strips off his shirt and it's not sexy this time. All she sees are holes in him.
"Do you have scars?" He asks again.
She shakes her head, trying to remember that no means yes. "Only on the inside," she replies.
Logan doesn't ask anymore questions. He merely meets her darkened doe eyes pitying her or, alternatively, himself.
He doesn't think of her much. Even after his brief visit to the hospital - finding out that she was pregnant as she fed Veronica and Duncan the lie that he wanted to believe - he tries to push her as much as he can out of his mind.
It's probably what his father did when he found out that his mother was carrying their precious love (fuck) child. He's sure that his father pushed him out of his mind as much as he could (he was just more persistent in life) and wished for an accident or an abortion. Well, he didn't ask to be born either. Everyone makes mistakes.
Meg knows it's not Duncan's child. She strokes her stomach tentatively to calm the hard kicks that send her reeling inside and shuts her eyes to pretend.
The path to God is paved with righteousness. These are notebooks (parents) he wants to tear in two. He doesn't believe. He doesn't believe and nothing will save him.
He doesn't think of her much. Duncan's gone (Veronica's gone, Meg's gone) and the baby - the little girl, Lilly - is gone. The only constant in his life is that everyone leaves and he never bothers to make them stay. Maybe, he thinks, if he hadn't wished for it in the first place perpetual loneliness wouldn't exist.
At the very least, he'll look back on photographs that don't exist and remember her. Guilt filling his gut, he settles for another blonde instead, filling the space that the last left.
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I was actually even weary of writing this pairing. I love the concept of them because I truly think that Meg and Logan would make a great pairing, but I wasn't sure that you'd be too into the concept. I'm just like... super glad you like it! lol. Yay!
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Thank you!
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Thank you for all your comments. I really enjoyed writing this fic. It took me a little while since I had written one of the parts first (tails, specifically) and wasn't sure that it would be as excellent for a stand alone fic. Of course, both parts can stand alone, but I think it accomplished more with a contrast. It was also my first time writing Meg too.
I'm glad you enjoyed it :)
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First off, I don't like this pairing much (although I can definetly picture it) and never have. But I love LOVE this fic. The only piece of fanfic that I have read that compares is sinaddict's We Used to Be Friends, the first fanfic I ever read.
There's more that he remembers: her lips warm and sticky against that space, the distinctive taste of raspberry lip gloss and the clear smell of citrus orange and lemon as he slipped off her sweater.
Perfect description of Meg. The scents, particularly the raspberry lip gloss, are just dead on.
She mentally goes through a thesaurus of words synonymous to stupid - idiotic, foolish, thickheaded, slow, half-baked - until she finally gets to naive.
I'm probably a horrible human being, but the first part of that sentence cracked me up.
There's a burn that she notices on the inside of his palm as he writes. She stops their report on Pride and Prejudice to ask about it. "Where did you get that?" Her eyelashes touch her cheeks and she slips the pencil out of his hand to look closer.
"An accident," he replies easily before picking up the writing utensil again.
So in character for both and the imagery and attention to details are lovely.
Meg does survive the crash, he later learns, and he thinks he should care a little more. He swears this time around that he'll try a little harder, but she never wakes up for him.
The next time Meg comes up in conversation is after Veronica does some of her magic. The Mannings are revealed to be a psychotic addition to the great collection of families Neptune has welcomed. He's not even sure what he's feeling in his gut, but the one thing he knows for sure is that he feels closer to someone than he has in a long time.
Maybe he should have been put in a coma too.
I'm too tired to tear up, but these lines were really touching. You have amazing writing abilities. Almost unparalleled in VM fanfic.
The path to God is paved with righteousness. These are notebooks (parents) he wants to tear in two. He doesn't believe. He doesn't believe and nothing will save him.
Tragic and stunning, like everything else in this fic. This was all simply amazing. There is so much more that I could quote, but I'll just leave it with everything was amazing.
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I am so very happy that you enjoyed this fic so much. I'm sort of becoming a fan of this pairing (well, that might be obvious with the writing of fanfic). I like the idea of them - the very potential that was never fulfilled. Also, this fic wasn't too shippy in general. It seemed, in the end, more like an expository on Logan.
Perfect description of Meg. The scents, particularly the raspberry lip gloss, are just dead on.
Thank you! That's so hard to come up with. As a writer, I try to remember to use all senses to describe a scene. Scent is so important and almost always ignored. Meg has always seemed to equal raspberry lip gloss. She's not sweet enough for strawberry or some candy like lipgloss and raspberry is supposed to be a small reflection on what she's like.
I'm too tired to tear up, but these lines were really touching. You have amazing writing abilities. Almost unparalleled in VM fanfic.
That is such an amazing compliment, thank you so much. They should totally have me writing on the show ;) Well, I will probably be pursuing a future in writing so all is well.
Again, I am so glad you enjoyed this. Thank you for commenting.
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I totally think that it should be canon. In fact, I wondered if it was canon for a good percent of the stuff after we found out that Meg was pregnant. Truthfully, I think it would have totally made like infinate more sense/be better storyline. Mmmhm. I still think so. (Geez. The Mannings would have just such a fit if Logan was the father. Logan makes Duncan seem like a saint to them when in truth I can't always figure out who is more messed up.)
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