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FIC: Bad Scene and a Basement Show (Logan, Veronica, Keith, Wallace, OCs) 
6th-Apr-2007 09:22 pm
camera in the fan
Title: Bad Scene and a Basement Show (1/?)
Author: snailey
Characters/Pairings: Logan, Veronica, Keith, Wallace, Original Characters (Veronica/OC)
Rating: R; drug use, violence, adult language and dark themes.
Summary: 'There were those that got involved, but then there were those that got caught up, denying any connection to the person they became. Eyes fixated on the trembling of her brittle hands, Logan had a horrible feeling Veronica was in denial.'
Spoilers: Nothing specific so far, but to be safe up until 3x15. Future-fic.
Warnings: This is dark and a future-fic, so characterisation is not spot-on.
Disclaimer: Don’t own nothin’. Title is taken from Less Than Jake. The quote(s) belong to Humphrey Bogart and whoever wrote/owns the movie ‘Casablanca’. And most obviously the Veronica Mars characters are not mine, but the OCs are.
Author's Note: This is my first attempt at fan fiction. I hope that fact doesn't turn people away. All forms of constructive criticism welcome/begged for. Each chapter will be either from Logan or Veronica's POV.

Chapter One:

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, (he) walks into mine.


March 24th - 10:12pm

It had been three years. Three years since he had last seen her loading her bare essentials into the trunk of her Dad’s car, clasping a one-way ticket to Virginia in her hand. No goodbyes. No contact. Not even an email. Of all the reuniting scenarios that had played out in his head, no situation close to this reality had captured his imagination.

His first encounter with Veronica Mars leaves him with the image of a possibly high, most likely drunk, bone-thin women slightly sloughed forward on a whiskey stained bar. Her tiny frame blending in with the dark, dingy pub he’d just entered in Brooklyn, New York.

It always happens to the best of them, he thought, as his eyes scanned the joint for a likely acquaintance, friend, partner, dare-he-mention boyfriend. When his search came up dry his imagination once again moved into overdrive. What was a bright, young, intelligent FBI agent doing in a rundown Irish pub in Brooklyn? Fittingly named O'Malley's; No need for originally in this part of town. As the only current occupant of the place, sans bartender, any possible undercover work seemed pointless to Logan.

His avoidance of the most obvious answer did not last long. Had Veronica Mars finally sunken to the depths of depression? Had a dark, twisted turn of events created the downfall of a girl whose life mission was to not become her mother’s daughter?

A deep, throaty laugh pulled Logan attention to the far left corner of the pub. His trained scoping skills had failed him the instant he had spotted his ex. Three heavy-set men had made themselves at home in a horse-shoe booth poorly lit by the pub's green-tinted dim lights, away from the eyes of any casual pub-crawler.

Drawn back to his original prediction, she was probably just playing the undercover agent on a case. He could hear her now. If you want to get the goods, you have to get close to the maker, gritted out in that closed-off expression she was so inclined to use when her actions were questioned or she was put in a position of moral ambiguity. Maybe she would simply brush it off. It's just a means to an end, following a drawn out sigh.

Logan needed to stop speculating. What he needed to do was collect the facts. The details. Everything needed to explain his predicament and find out why Veronica currently occupied one of the few hot-spots highlighted in the files sent to him.

Highlighted was putting it lightly.

Underlined, circled, printed in bold and then highlighted was more like it. If Veronica was still FBI, what business did they have in a DEA investigation? Most importantly, why was he not informed of this relevant fact? The selfish bastard inside him hoped they were working separate cases. She had upstaged him in most avenues, but this was Logan's first chance to prove himself worthy. He was not going to let anything or anyone prevent him from obtaining this glory moment. Up until two year ago he never cared what other people's opinion of him were, but a lot had changed in such a short space of time. Evidence of this was sitting with a whiskey in hand only ten feet ahead.

Taking a seat as far away from her as possible, but making sure he could see her every move out of the corner of his eye, he made himself discreet. Following Veronica's lead by blending into the mahogany booth. With one eye fixed on his ex and another firmly set on the three dark haired figures in the corner, he had a feeling tonight's takings at O'Malley's was not enough to pay the rent.

In the 20 minutes he had been at the pub, not a single soul had walked through the double doors; further sparking his suspicions about the owner's means of income. Unwilling to digest the pee-nuts (not everyone washed their hands before leaving the restrooms), he passed the time by trying to fill the three year gap of Ronnie's life between Hearst graduation and the present moment.

March 24th - 11:08pm

About ready to leave after an almost-pointless night of surveillance, the sound of a stool being pushed backwards and away from the bar raises his eye level. Veronica was leaving. Sliding a $20 across the bar, her small stature is forced to bounce down from the tall chair. Movement is change. Change Logan's lungs did not agree with. The sudden shift heightens his senses. A tall, lanky man dressed in a 70s style shirt, that resembled his dead grandmas curtains, had entered the pub through the back hallway. First making his way over to the three inebriated men in the corner, whispering quickly in the largest man's ear, to Logan's surprise he meets Veronica halfway.

No. Please. Not now. Not again. Of course she was involved. Why had he even bothered to question it. It may have not been a surprise, but what happened next definitely grabbed his attention. Lifting herself onto the tips of her toes, Veronica's slight frame reaches up to kiss the man on the lips at the same time as the guy's arms circle her waist to degradingly grab her ass. Class. Chivalry isn't dead, just absent from the chauvinist pigs of the world.

Trying to dismiss the gesture, Logan had no choice but to sit back and wait as the ass-graber led a stumbling Veronica out the back, and out of sight.

March 24th - 11:45pm

Two years as a rookie agent for the DEA and Logan Echolls had seen all the signs of a drug addict. From the anxiety, to the panic attacks and the weight loss, simply a runny nose kicks his blow-addiction radar into gear. Even before his days as a tax-paying employee, Logan had witnessed his fare share of drug induced episodes. But nothing could prepare him for what sat only two feet to his right, curled up as if she was trying to hide her body from the outside world, on an inappropriately pure white couch.

Although he had only experienced the intensity of covert undercover work from a distance, he knew where the line was drawn between work and play. There were those that got involved, but then there were those that got caught up, denying any connection to the person they became. Eyes fixated on the trembling of her brittle hands, Logan had a horrible feeling Veronica was in denial.

Author's Note 2: Don't be scared by the lack of any dialogue. Chapter 1 is mostly just the set up and Logan's inner thoughts. The gap between Veronica going out back and the two of them back at V's apartment will be addressed next chapter in Veronica's POV.

I am looking for someone to beta the whole fic if anyone is willing to. Thanks.
6th-Apr-2007 03:11 pm (UTC)
Hey, I'm Rindee, one of the mods here at vm_betas. I read this and am totally intrigued and interested. If you'd like me to beta, please email me a copy of this, putting "beta" in the subject line. My email is: rindee1313@aol.com. Also, in the message, please let me know what software you use for writing, and, if you would, give me a word count - usually, there's one in the info above the Lj cut. Thanks.
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