Where in the World is Veronica Mars?

Temporary Insanity (PG-13) Veronica, Wallace, Mac

blue_icy_rose — Fri, 01 Sep 2006 09:43:16 GMT

Title: Temporary Insanity
Author: blue_icy_rose
Characters/Pairings: Veronica, Wallace, Mac, one mention of Dick
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1581
Spoilers/Warnings: Er...one swear word, I think. LOL. I think that's pretty much it. Nothing major from the show is mentioned. Oh and there's a nod to one of Veronica's lines from "Normal is the Watchword" in there.
Summary: After graduating from college, Keith sends Veronica to Scotland for her gift. Wallace and Mac go with her. This is just a glimpse into their day.
Notes: Well, this isn't my best work but I was determined to get this done, even if it is a couple hours late. (If that means it can't be accepted, that's completely okay, just let me know.) Unfortunately, I've been having trouble writing VM fic lately so if something feels off, feel free to let me know. I was hoping to capture the fun side of these three so here's hoping. Feedback is always welcome and I hope you enjoy.

But first, a few things. Yes, you can stay in the castle they film Harry Potter at. (Kristina, I so need to thank Rachel for that bit of info! LOL.)

Second, if you're interested, links to the recipes for what they ordered will be at the bottom, as will a picture of the castle they visit. Enjoy!

Temporary Insanity

Fic: Evil Reptilian Kitten Eater from Another Planet (Logan/Veronica, Ensemble) PG-13

rowanceleste — Fri, 01 Sep 2006 05:17:55 GMT

Title: Evil Reptilian Kitten Eater from Another Planet
Author: rowanceleste
Pairing/Character: Logan/Veronica, Mac, Dick, mentions of Wallace
Word Count: 1702
Rating: PG-13
Summary: What's summer about if not roadtrips? Summer after high school.
Disclaimer: I do not own Veronica Mars or any of the Veronica Mars characters. I merely play with them for my own amusement and others.
Spoilers/Warnings: up to the S2 Finale, Not Pictured, although I do mention where Veronica attends college and where Mac attends college.
Author’s Note: This is written for the “Where in the World is Veronica Mars Challenge”. Deadline is August 31st and as usual, I like to wait until the last minute. My country was Canada. Needless to say, when I googled ‘Canadian phrases’ and ‘Evil Reptilian Kitten Eater from Another Planet’ was actually listed as a ‘Canadian political phrase’, I couldn’t resist! Cross posted to vmtruechallenge , veronicamarsfic , rowanlove_vmfic . I contemplated posting this as a WIP, but I'd end up missing the deadline if I did it that way. I may end up writing about the rest of their trip though, depending on if appropriate bunnies inspire me! All mistakes are mine as this is currently unbeta'd since I waited until the last minute!

Oh Canada!

Fic: Where to run without my sneakers? (Veronica, Ensemble, PG13) Prologue

dasq_kaze — Thu, 31 Aug 2006 18:46:29 GMT

*phew*

Title: Where to run without my sneakers? (Veronica, Ensemble, PG 13), Prologue
Author: Kaze
Characters: Ensemble, Veronica POV
Word Count: 1,760
Spoilers: none
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: None (in this chapter)
Summary: Completely AU. Veronica grew up in East Germany and got caught in political tidings that changed her whole life. Written for the ‘Where in the world is Veronica Mars’ challenge. My prompt was ‘Germany’. Go figure.
Disclaimer: VM and its characters belong to Rob Thomas.
A/N: First, many thanks to fickledame and blue_icy_rose for their super-speed beta work and for encouraging me to post this. Second, many things to Mizu, my dasq-team partner in crime, who provided me with inside info about life in the GDR.

Back then, I didn’t understand the way Lilly did.

Old Cliches (Veronica/Logan) PG-13

teenwitch77 — Sun, 16 Jul 2006 03:28:17 GMT

Title: Old Clichés
Author: teenwitch77
Characters/Pairings: Veronica, Logan/Veronica
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 2400
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for 2x22 Not Pictured.
Summary: Maybe there’s something to be said for those clichéd old love songs. Veronica and Logan head to Mexico to chase a lead on a case… and end up resolving a few issues in their relationship.

The first time Veronica went to Mexico, it had been Lilly’s idea.

Fic: Dude - Best Vacation Ever (Veronica/Logan) R

chibi_care — Sun, 02 Jul 2006 06:11:35 GMT

Title: Dude - Best Vacation Ever
Author: chibi_care
Pairing/Character: Veronica/Logan
Word Count: 5365
Rating: R
Summary: Logan travels to the dark and wild jungles of Tanzania to meet up with his globe-trotting photographer girlfriend, and a learns few things himself. Cross-posted at veronicamarsfic.
Spoilers: Everything, to be safe
Warnings: Language

Veronica picks him up at Dar es Salaam International Airport, arms folded against her chest, a bag slung over one shoulder. The air inside is cool yet stale and all around him are shouting voices, clamoring hands. Her smile says, "I missed you", but the way she's looking at him, the strangely rigid posture of her reads, "I've changed." Logan steels himself for confrontation, warily weaving his way through the busy crowd to the tiny blonde standing in the midst of it all. He notices the protruding lens of her camera from the flap of the bag, and wonders how it hasn't been stolen by some greedy native. Everyone here looks like a kleptomaniac – that or they haven't been fed in months.

"Hello," he says in a toneless sort of voice, staring down at her.

She tilts her face up to look at him, the crinkles at the edges of her eyes creasing. "Now what kind of greeting is that, lover boy? You haven't seen me in a whole six months. Don't I deserve at least a hug?"

Logan's shoulders relax, although his nervous coiled insides stay twisted. He bends down and picks her up under her arms, turning her around in a wide radius, his nose buried in her neck. He breathes in the scent of her, wild and untamed, lush and beautiful, different and familiar. She clutches him and laughs breathily into his ear. Logan can imagine her traipsing the rain forests, snapping photographs of stick-thin children with potbellies. Jesus, he's missed her. He sets her down on the concrete floor, depositing a kiss against the side of her neck. She blushes.

"Missed me?" she teases, fixing the strap of her bag.

"Abso-fucking-lutely," he replies, one of those stupid, I-can't-believe-I-got-the-girl smiles on his face.

Veronica goes up on tiptoe, lightly pressing her lips against his. "Me too. Now let's get your stuff."

~

He spends the entire nine-hour bus ride to Moshi trying to protect his bags from the natives. There are a few white tourists up at the front of the bus, but Logan quickly discovers that they are German mountaineers, not fellow Americans. After a few minutes of trying to make conversation with Klaus, Hans, and Greta, he retreats back to his seat. The bumpy roads make it difficult for him to nap with his head against the window. Each jolt of the wheels sends pain thrumming down to the spot where his neck meets his spine. Veronica offers him some peanut butter (that he declines) and a sympathetic look, but he notices that she's busy chatting up the colorfully garbed Tanzanian woman across the aisle.

"Logan – " he hears Veronica say, and then she turns to show him.

The woman across the aisle waves and he waves awkwardly back. "Jambo."

Veronica corrects him. "Mambo."

He flushes pink and repeats it obediently, like a puppy. "Mambo."

The woman grins then, her white teeth bright and alive against the chocolate dark face. "Poa."

"What did I just say? I hope it's not 'I'll sell my body to you for five cows'." he hisses in Veronica's ear after a minute pauses, and he watches her and the woman wrap up their conversation in Swahili that he cannot follow. He's only practiced a few basic phrases at home: "Hello." "Where's the bathroom?" "I am allergic to shellfish." "How much do you charge for a lap dance?" The essentials. He knows them in French, Italian, Spanish, and Mandarin too.

She rifles through her bag for her pocketknife and flips it open, dipping it into the chunky peanut butter. "The Tanzanian equivalent of 'what's up'. I thought you learned something from the book I bought you."

"I did – I just – not that. Anyway, I thought it was 'jambo', not 'mambo'." He turns a little sulky, and his stomach (and somewhere else) tightens at the sight of her carefully licking the peanut butter off the knife.

Veronica dismisses that with a little slice of the knife in air. "'Jambo' is the tourist greeting; it's what they say to white people. 'Mambo' is the real greeting. And 'poa' is the response. Like 'not much'."

He watches her eat the peanut butter for a few minutes before his stomach growls again. She smiles at him. He makes a grab for the pocketknife, but she holds it out of reach. "I thought you didn't want any."

"I'm hungry," Logan whines.

She raises an eyebrow and tosses him a hunk of bread. It's fresh, and he bites into the fluffy crust with evident pleasure. The inside is lightly sweetened and tastes delicious. He dips his index finger into the container of peanut butter and sucks it off, grinning impishly at Veronica, watching her turn red from her ears to the exposed skin of her collarbone. He leans forward and dips his finger in again. "Are you willing to share with me now?"

Logan sees the fringe of her sun-kissed eyelashes brush her cheeks in answer, the slight glint that enters her gaze. "No. You're going to have to wait until we get to Moshi to buy your own."

~

"You are not making me stay here."

Veronica rolls her eyes. "I'm not making you stay here, Logan. You're the one who thought it might be a good idea to come visit me in country. This is what I can do on my budget."

The bile rises in the back of his throat as he glances up at the Buffalo Hotel gate, and he swallows against it. There's a little plaster shelter with two outdoor bathrooms and he doesn't think he can handle the stench. Surely even in this piece-of-shit town, he can find appropriate lodgings. At least somewhere with a fucking pool or something. He puts a hand to his forehead and lets out a low groan through his teeth. He's starting to sound like Dick. Nope, better stick with the Buffalo then at the risk of truly becoming the stoned Californian beach boy.

"Look, why don't we take your stuff to the bar and you can get a beer and I'll get us a room for tonight, okay?"

He gives her an incredulous look. "What bar? I don't see any bar."

She gestures to the plastic covered roof a little ways into the gate, past the so-called "lobby" of the hotel. Logan thinks she must be fucking around with his head, because this is seriously worse than Motel 6. Veronica seems unperturbed and has her little hands wrapped around the strap of his duffle, starting to haul it up. The sight's just a wee bit pathetic. He takes it from her and swings it up against his shoulder, smirking when the weight hits his back because she looks like she could kill him. Veronica heads for the lobby, and leaves him to – well – basically, his doom.

"Beer. Anything," he tells the bartender. There are only two other people in the bar, chattering and not paying any attention. Logan glances at the flickering television screen, precariously perched in a corner of the shelter. Looks like something happened in Senegal. Or Angola. Or whatever. They all look the same.

"Kilimanjaro Premium Lager?" the bartender holds up what looks like a cold bottle, condensation dripping on the sides. It meets all of Logan's requirements: alcoholic and icy.

"Great. Thanks," Logan shoves a handful of notes to the bartender. "Keep the change."

The first half of the bottle goes down in a cold wash, licking the sides of his dry mouth. He barely tastes the beer. Once he's slaked his thirst, he takes a sample swig. It's – different. It's not bad. In fact, he's starting to enjoy it. He takes another sip, slides down in his chair, and relaxes. The first good thing about Tanzania costs eight hundred shillings, is portable, and enough of it can get him drunk. Thank the fucking lord.

~

"Logan. Hey, Logan? Hey! Wake up!"

Something soft hits him in the face and he expels a strangled sound, half-opening his eyes to see an angry blonde chick (his angry blonde chick) glaring down at him. She smells like sleep, musty and soft, with her hair pooling about her shoulders, and she's still wearing his t-shirt from last night (and he knows there's nothing underneath it – he took it off for her). Logan shifts his head and glances to his left. Mosquito netting and blank wall. They could have at least put up a painting or two. Although – then it might have gotten stolen. Sunlight streams in through the glass-slated window, and he thinks that the only decent part about the room is that it has a door to the balcony, and the view is pretty good.

"I'm awake," he says thickly.

"Liar," she tells him. "Get up and go shower. The driver will be here at ten, and you don't want to be late for breakfast. Clean thoroughly – there aren't too many showers where we're going."

He flips onto his stomach and watches her with lidded eyes as Veronica tumbles off the bed and starts getting dressed, sliding her panties up her legs from where they were tossed into onto a chair last night. Normally, he would've just thrown them anywhere in the room, but she had insisted on using the chair. Apparently the less cockroaches in her underwear, the better. She shrugs out of his t-shirt and slips into her bra, clasping it efficiently in back, and then wiggling into her own, boob-hugging (what there is of it) long-sleeved tee. Logan struggles out of the twisted sheets and sits up, wanting to kiss her, but she throws him a warning look, and sits down in the chair to lace up her boots.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

Veronica lifts up the mosquito net and hands him his stack of clothing. "I'll take the shower after you. I need to pick up some groceries anyway. I'll be back in fifteen minutes, okay?"

"Um. Okay." He fumbles with the edge of the netting, and manages to pull it up in time to grab her wrist. He gives her a slow, languorous kiss despite morning breath and when he lets her go, she seems a little dazed.

"You only have fifteen minutes," she says, voice husky. "And remember to shower with flip-flops."

"I'll be squeaky clean by then," he promises with a grin. "Without the parasites."

~

Despite what the staff at the Buffalo Hotel may claim, toast and cold cereal with a side of lukewarm fruit is not a breakfast. A real breakfast includes something like pancakes or eggs or sausages. Logan orders scrambled eggs for the two of them, ignoring Veronica's gripes that she's on budget. He doesn't really know why she cares; it's his money he's spending. And she devours the eggs pretty quickly, getting up again to get another slice of toast. As he forks buttery eggs into his mouth (the food is pretty decent), he wonders over who he has to kill around here to get a pizza. Or Chinese take-out. Then he starts to wonder if there's even Chinese food in Tanzania. Probably not.

He barely has time to recline in his chair and digest the food when Veronica grabs his hand and pulls him to the dirt yard in front of the lobby. She tells him there's someone she wants him to meet, and before Logan registers that the words sound ominous, he's face-to-face with a guy he's never seen before. He's tall, taller than Logan, and is so tan that his skin appears brown. His dark curls are long, and they unspool along the firm line of his shoulders. The rugged handsomeness of his face makes Logan feel determinately uncomfortable, not to mention that Veronica's looking at him as if he's her personal Jesus. Jealousy clamps down on the eggs-and-toast in his stomach.

"Logan, this is Adam. He's the journalist I've been working with," Veronica introduces. "Adam, this is my boyfriend Logan. He's going to come up with us on this assignment. He's visiting me."

Adam grins and reaches out a calloused hand, gripping Logan's in a firm shake. "Nice to meet you. V talks about you all the time. It's great to finally see you in person."

"Uh," Logan squeezes and then lets go. "Nice to meet you too."

"Nine-fifty," Adam glances at his watch. "I'm going to pop down the street and buy some crackers. Why don't you get some drinks for the road, V?"

Logan trails Veronica into the bar, flopping into a chair as she purchases a couple of Cokes and passionfruit Fantas. His eyes follow a bead of sweat at the base of her neck, sliding down into her shirt. He hates the fact that she looks so damn competent without him, that she can tramp through the jungle all by her lonesome (whoops, he thinks bitterly, Adam too). She comes over to him and hands him a soda, putting a glass bottle against her forehead. He smiles an obligatory smile, twists open the top of his Coke, and drinks it wishing it were Kilimanjaro Lager.

"It's ten," he says after a minute. "Where's our ride? Marrying his fifth wife or something?"

She punches him without hesitation and he winces. He forgets that she's more in shape than ever now. "Look, if you say 'come get me at ten' here, it means more like 'come at ten-thirty'. It's Tanzania time. And are you ever going to stop making cracks about the country?"

"No," Logan replies sullenly. "If you want to compare notes about fascinating culture, you can do it with Adam." He doesn't mean for it to come out so petulantly.

"Oh, Logan," Veronica peers at him. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

He takes a gulp of Coke and denies it. "No."

"It's okay, Logan. Really," she sits down in his lap and giggles. "I think it's kind of hot." She lays butterfly kisses against his jaw. "And Adam can be an egotistical ass sometimes. Like he's gonna save the world one-handed with his articles."

"I really, really love you," he tells her, burying his face in her hair.

~

The Tanzania countryside is partially dust and rock, and partially rain-wet leaves and ankle-length grass. Veronica explains to him on the way there that the village they're visiting is located near the base of Kilimanjaro, where there are rain forests. It's cooler there during the day, and if the clouds clear just right, he can get a spectacular view of the mountain. To be honest, Logan's mind is not entirely on the mountain at the moment, as he's just seen the room that he and Veronica are offered. She's told him that they're staying with a host family for a few days while she and Adam work on the article, but Logan doesn't realize that they'd be staying in a tin shack.

"Honey, I don't care if they're the Cleaver family – this isn't sanitary!"

She's loading her memory card onto her laptop, carelessly sitting on the bed. "Well, Adam and I usually stay in tents, but I thought you'd like a bed instead of camping out on the ground."

"I have a Visa card; can't we go stay somewhere else? This looks like they crawled out of a pit and build a house from the first materials that came to hand."

"Logan, stop it." Veronica sits up straight, hands frozen over the keys, her eyes trained on him. "Just – stop it."

He has a million remarks in his head, but they're all stuck in his throat and catch in his breath. He sits down next to her, smoothing out the wrinkles in the sheet. It's soft and faded from numerous washings.

"I'm – sorry," he says after a moment.

She ducks her head into her chest and says nothing.

"Um. So. What are we doing tomorrow?"

She glances at him, and then takes his query like a peace offering. "Talking to the kids. Taking pictures. Getting to know them so they'll talk about their parents. You know. Investigative stuff. Sort of."

"Awesome," he replies. "I brought a Frisbee."

~

Logan never thought that Frisbee was a difficult activity.

Unfortunately, the kids that are currently tossing the disc back and forth are proving him wrong.

He tries to complain to Veronica, timidly, because she already got annoyed with him once, and wouldn't it just suck for him to be dumped in the middle of sub-Saharan Africa so she can run to her hot journalist friend Adam, but he simply can't resist the urge. She brushes it off, tells him that the game of choice here is soccer, not Frisbee, and if they can't afford real soccer balls, then they sure weren't going to spend their money on plastic, neon discs. She snaps a discreet photograph of a group of children huddled over Adam's compass-calendar-glowing watch. Logan thinks all it needs is a Swiss army knife attachment and he'd be all set.

"You go like this. You throw it. You see my fingers?" he wiggles his fingers, the fingers caught above and beneath the Frisbee. The children watch him with blank, happy smiles and exchange words in Swahili.

The boy next to him mimics his gesture with some precision and Logan grins.

"Yeah. You toss it. Gently. See?" Logan gives a flick of his hand and the Frisbee sails across the circle.

The girl in the blue sweater and the ragged maroon skirt picks up the Frisbee, glancing quizzically at Logan with it between her hands. He makes the flicking motion with his fingers and she grasps it, awkwardly, and throws it with too much force back to him. It flops through the air, and he reaches out to clap it between his palms. The group giggles, and the girl cracks a nervous smile, her eyes dropping down from some embarrassment.

"Hey, it's okay. Frisbee's hard." Logan swallows. That's a lie. But it seems like she almost understands him, or at least picks up on the consoling murmur in his tone, because she gives him a somewhat warmer grin.

Veronica's moved closer to their circle, and her camera lens is hovering. He sees it out of the corner of his eye and tries not to glance at it. She hates it when he does that; it ruins her candid shots. Several of the kids turn around to look wide-eyed at the giant, reflective lens with their faces mirrored, but she redirects them, informing them in sugarcoated words (or at least that's what the syllables sound like to Logan) that they should just continuing playing. He hopes severely that he's not in these pictures – no need for the photographer's boyfriend to make an appearance. Trina's always telling him that he needs better PR, but he's not the one screwing every half-assed actor in Tinseltown.

Some child comes running from the schoolhouse, kicking up dust on the dirt path in his flip-flops, and he has in his arms a ball – perhaps a collection of ragged cloth bound together, but it's a ball, and the crowd of kids let out a shout. Logan finds his Frisbee circle deserted within seconds, and he turns his wry look to his girlfriend. She has the camera poised, and grins cheekily at him before snapping off at least a dozen pictures of the kids running.

"I guess Frisbee really isn't their game."

"Jonah is still here," and Veronica waves to the little boy near them who perks up at the sound of his name. Logan recognizes him as the only kid who understood how to toss the Frisbee.

Logan sits down then, in the grass, his sleeves rolled up and the beginnings of sweat starting to collect against his forehead. Jonah – the kid – sits down too, and he looks at him with wide brown eyes, almost lost against the color of his skin. He smells like sweat and dirt and sunshine, smells that would usually revolt Logan, but this time it's almost okay. He almost doesn't have the sudden urge to spray the kid with cologne. Jonah gives him a wide smile, and it hits Logan like a sucker punch that the boy has crooked teeth, tiny and yellowed. It hurts.

"Mambo, Jonah," he says to him.

Jonah looks somewhat impressed. "Poa."

Logan points to himself, trying not to reenact "Me, Tarzan; You, Jane". "Logan."

"Logan," Jonah repeats, his thick accent sliding over the name. Then he surprises him. "I know."

"You know? Dude – what? You speak English?" Logan jerks, startled, and twists his head to yell at Veronica, but she's moved on to the improvised sidelines of the soccer game.

"Yes. I speak English. I learn English in school," Jonah tells him matter-of-factly. His words are precise and slowly said, his lips sure of every letter before he lets them slip out. "I want to go to university. To study English."

Logan rubs at the back of his neck. "Um. That's cool. I mean – study hard and everything, man."

Jonah is perplexed for a moment over the term 'cool', and then disregards it. "Veronica is your wife?"

"Wife?" Logan snorts, laughter seeping into his voice. "No – not my wife. She's my girlfriend. I love her, but we're not married. We're too young. Only twenty. I mean, she's twenty. I'm still nineteen. How old are you?"

"Twelve," Jonah answers and furrows his brow. "My sister is married. She is eighteen. I live with her. Our mother and father died long time ago. I do not remember it."

Logan had expected him to say something like "women here are bearing six children by the time they hit fifteen", but maybe the future is slowly coming across Africa after all. "I'm sorry about your parents." He pauses. "My mother and father are dead too. So – you know – we're like the same. No parents. With older sisters."

"Do you remember them?" The line of Jonah's mouth is soft and serious.

"Yes." And Logan drops his head suddenly so the kid doesn't see the shadow come into his eyes, the dark overcast of Aaron Echolls, murderer, and Lynn Echolls, drunk.

"Veronica say you never see Tanzania before," Jonah changes the subject with expert speed. "First time."

"First time for everything."

Jonah glances around them, at the hillside they're sitting on, and the game taking place in the slow dip of the valley. The leafy boughs of trees guard the boundaries of the schoolyard, the canopy wet and dripping, lushly verdant. The buzz of insects and animals constantly surround them, even as the streams of sunlight hit the earth and cast vapors of mist. The lip of Kilimanjaro's ice-topped edge peeks over the secondary school roof, cold and forbidding. When he speaks again, Logan hears the catch in the words, the slight tremble of emotion. "It is beautiful. Is it not? There is the mountain, of course, but there is also the people. The cities. The – what is it called – culture?"

Logan thinks about Tanzania, with its mobs of people, the vendors that swarm to him in Moshi with their tackily reproduced paintings and chipped statues. There's the Buffalo Hotel, great for budgeted travelers, but crap for resort-seeking white boys. The dirt roads, the battered stick-shift cars, the trash in the gutters and crime hovering around the corner. He pictures vandalism, thievery, rape, prostitution, drugs. He pictures poverty and AIDS, starving children and bereft mothers. He thinks about the cold showers that never become warm, the dust that combines with his cereal, the hot days and cold nights, and he winces a little. Beautiful, huh?

But then he remembers the things Veronica tells him, and the other things he has seen. The countryside passing by along his window on that bus ride, with its endless dry deserts, and the herds of cows that cross the road. There is a sunset beyond his hotel room balcony, and the sky is a gorgeous combination of orange and gold, red and purple. At night, the skies are so clear that he can see the whorl of the Milky Way, something he could never do back home in Neptune. It's a different world here. People smile at him on the street, calling out greetings like they've known each other for years. Children tug at his clothes to vie for his attention. The villagers make them lunch, with their own hands, and the samosas and rice and banana stew are the best he's ever had.

"Yeah," Logan finally tells him. "Yeah, it's beautiful."

~

She spreads out the picnic blanket on the hillside, the grass flattened underneath the cloth, and kneels, smoothing out the edges. He watches her from where he's standing with his hands in his pocket; so this is the big surprise she kept bothering him about. There's a chill in the air, and he has his fleece zipped up to his chin, and he tucks his mouth into it for a second, exhaling a warm breath. The tip of his nose is red. Veronica's all bundled up in her jacket and winter cap, and he thinks about how adorable she looks like that. She sits down on the blanket and beckons to him with one hand, curling her fingers in mock-seduction. He presses a palm to his chest and does his best "for me?" imitation.

"Oh, sweetie, you shouldn't have," he says in a falsetto as he lies down next to her.

"I'm so under appreciated around here." She takes a thermos out of her bag and two little cups. "But I brought hot coffee, and I thought you'd might like that a little more."

"You know just the right ways to turn me on," Logan says, rubbing his hands together eagerly for something warm.

Veronica pours him a steaming cup, and passes him a little bottle of sugar. "Cream's already in there."

He holds up the sugar bottle, turns it in his hands. "Sweetening my coffee? Please. Do you know me at all, Veronica? If you can't take it black, then don't take it at all."

"And here was I thinking that you just might take it Irish," she plucks a silver flask from her bag and waves it in front of him. He makes a grab for it and she swiftly retracts her hand. "What's the magic word?"

"Please?" he makes a puppy-dog face.

She pushes out her lower lip and pouts. "Logan, have you really forgotten the magic word?"

"You know, 'magic word' is really an exaggeration. It's really more of a sentence." He keeps an eye on the flask.

"Logan," she warns and he loves hearing her voice dip down to that dangerous purr.

"Fine. Veronica Mars is mean to her boyfriend." Logan makes another attempt to steal the flask, but she twists out of his reach, fluidly slipping past his arms.

She waves her finger in his face. "Uh-uh, bad boy. Come on. You can do better than that."

He grabs her wrist and tightens his grip, tugging her close. "Alright. I'll play nice. Veronica Mars is smarter than me."

"That's what I'm talking about, sugar." She tips her face up and kisses him lightly. "Was it so hard to say?"

"Mmm. Like having my teeth wrenched out." Logan kisses her again, a little deeper. "Now let's get this party started."

Veronica twists open the cap and pours a stream of alcohol into his coffee, repeating the process with her own cup, though with a little less. He lightly ribs her for that, but she sips her coffee demurely.

"So," Logan keeps an arm around her waist. "Is this it for your surprise?"

"What were you looking for?" she glances at him.

"I don't know – maybe a hooker jumping out of a cake to sing me, 'Happy Birthday, Mister Echolls'. That would have been pretty cool." He sighs what could be considered a dreamy sigh.

"But Logan, it's not your birthday." Veronica opens up her eyes big and wide, glazed with innocence.

He stretches out his legs and then crosses them again. "This is very A Walk to Remember."

"You saw A Walk to Remember? I don't think you have credible masculinity anymore."

"Well, that was probably the worst skeleton in my closet," he grins.

There's silence for a moment before she turns to him. "You got me. I wanted to stargaze. And I have leukemia. And I've definitely always wanted to get a butterfly tattoo."

"Two truths and a lie? I'm thinking – you've always wanted a heart with my name in it, right?"

Veronica leans back against him, and the pit of his stomach has a little bit of an inner explosion. He pulls her closer into him, and breaths her name into her hair; the sound is almost lost. Logan feels her still suddenly, tense, and he withdraws his arm with some alarm. She tilts her head to look him in the eye, and he sees that she is oh so serious, and his throat tightens. This is never good, not with Veronica. She scoots a little bit from him, a few inches, and sets down her empty cup on the edge of the grass. He lets her take his hand in hers, and watches as she plays with his fingers, running her gentle touch against his forever-scarred knuckles.

"There was something else," she admits.

"Oh?" It comes out choked around whatever's lodged in his throat, and not as collected as he had hoped.

She presses her lips against the back of his right hand. "I was thinking... Um. I was thinking – I mean, I've been doing a lot of it these past six months. Being away from you and all. And – I know it might not be good or right or anything – but." She takes a deep breath and he inhales. "Iwanttomarryyou."

"What?"

"I. Want. To. Marry. You." This time she looks at his face and her gaze is unwavering. "And – I was hoping – that you would want to marry me too. I mean, not now, not for a couple of years. But I just wanted to know that you want to. That maybe you'd want to have me forever because I – I want to be with you forever, and I love you, and it's just – I know it's not anything traditional and – "

He lets out a slow, rolling laugh of relief; he's practically giddy. "You've never been traditional, Veronica."

She lets go of his hand. "Never mind. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Veronica," and he snatches her hand and closes the distance between them. He doesn't really have an answer – what can he say? She blushes a little and he thinks he can see her pulse quickening under the pale skin of her neck. Logan kisses her, sealing his mouth over hers, tangling his fist into her hair. She's beautiful and tiny and feisty and she has her arms around his neck, kissing him back, and his entire world has been turned upside down and around. He breaks the kiss only to brush his lips against her earlobe, her nose, her jaw.

"Is that a yes?" she asks, breathlessly, still clutching him.

He wants to make a snarky remark, tell her in words that are laced with sarcasm, but he doesn't. Instead he tells her "yes", and he murmurs the word against every curve of her body.

~

They get back to Moshi two days later. Logan heads for the shabby Internet café next to the hotel while Veronica and Adam are discussing how to put the article together over lunch. At first he doesn't know what he's doing as he mindlessly clicks through his e-mail, scrolling down the front page of CNN to check the latest news, checking up on Neptune in general. But this is finally the e-mail that he sends out:

To: superdick@casablancas.com
From: obligatory_jackass@gmail.com
Subject: !!!!

Dude –

Best. Vacation. Ever.

- L

He moves the cursor up to the send button and hovers over the link for a second before clicking. A grin spreads slowly over his face as he hands a few thousand shillings to the proprietor before leaving. He tips his imaginary hat to him and skips down the steps because, really, it's true.

Totally the best vacation ever.

Crashing Down- Logan/Veronica

brin_bailey — Tue, 27 Jun 2006 06:28:40 GMT

Title: Crashing Down
Author: brin_bailey
Characters/Pairings: Logan/Veronica (mentions of Lilly and Duncan)
Rating: PG
Length: 1,684 words.
Spoilers/Warnings: General S1 and S2 stuff.
Summary: Future fic in which Veronica sets out to find Logan, written for vmtruechallenge "Where in the World is Veronica Mars" (The country I chose was Costa Rica.) Cross-posted at veronicamarsfic
Notes: This story veered so far off from where I originally planned, but I'm fairly happy with the results. It's only my second VM fic, so I'd love you forever in exchange for any constructive criticism.

Crashing Down

She figured it would’ve taken longer to find him. That he wouldn’t be sitting, long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle, staring at the rolling waves.

But there he was.

His eyes closed briefly and his head slipped forward, his chin dipping down to his chest. He took a deep breath, the air filling his lungs to the point where he thought they just might explode, and exhaled as if he was letting go of everything. Everything bad and good, and everything that was in between and rendered indefinable, just everything.

With a flicker, his eyes opened to find her walking towards him, her feet shuffling softly through the sand. She raised her hand slowly, probably to wave, but then hesitantly lowered it and let it limply fall to her side. Instead she smiled, with only one side of her thin lips turning up.

“Veronica Mars,” Logan breathed.

“Hey,” she offered with a sort of nod.

He gestured for her to sit down beside him and she tilted her head from side to side as if his request required more thought than it was worth. But she lowered herself onto the sandy beach, wiped her palms on the front of her pants and tucked her legs in close to her body.

She smiled again, still with just the one side, like it would be too painful to use her whole mouth, and pushed back the wisps of blonde hair that the light wind had blew into her face. Her hair was shorter than he ever remembered, but maybe he just didn’t remember things too clearly. After all, he had done more than his fair share of things to make himself forget.

They sat in silence, which he didn’t think they’d ever done, and was beginning to realize why.

“So,” he began the light lilt in his voice new, even to him. “You found me, huh?”

“Wasn’t that hard,” Veronica admitted.

There was something different about her. It wasn’t just that she was older, because he was too, and knew that growing up didn’t change you as much as everyone claimed it did. But there was something almost unreachable about her, standoffish and hardened. He wondered when the exact change had taken place and if she would still be the same if he’d stuck around. Maybe it had nothing to do with him at all.

“How’d you do it?” he questioned. “Lean on the right people? Something with spec-ops? Was there microfilm involved?”

“No.”

“Oh,” he said, resigned disappointment pushing through.

“I have different resources now,” she told him with a shrug.

“Out of the spy-game?”

She didn’t answer, just reached into her pocket and pulled out a thin, leather case, tossing it in the sand beside him. He picked it up wordlessly and flipped it open, revealing the glint of a badge. Logan ran his thumb over her embossed name.

“Sheriff Mars reigns again,” he grinned.

“Try again.”

Held on the other side of the case was a small card, with a picture of an unsmiling Veronica and the words FBI written beside it.

“Wow, you went federal. Playing with the big boys now, Ronnie?”

“Something like that,” she agreed.

Logan handed her back the badge, the tips of his rough fingers brushing over the underside of her wrist. She didn’t flinch at his touch, only dropped the case into the pocket of her jacket and focused her eyes forward on the ocean that he’d been so intently looking at before.

“Why here?” Veronica asked, her gaze still held on the water.

“Why Costa Rica?”

She nodded. Veronica knew he was watching her. Knew that he was mentally taking notes of every hitch in her breath, infliction in her voice, the way she held her head, how she moved her hands. And she knew because she wanted to do the same thing, study him and memorize every detail.

“No real reason I guess,” he said. “Nobody knows me here, kind of easy to disappear.”

Veronica turned to look at him and figured that nobody back home would know him either. The pretty boy son of the world’s most famous actor-turned-murderer, had long since gone, replaced by someone who was capable of being soft and hard at the same time. Logan had become a walking contradiction with a child-like, carefree grin and cool, lifeless eyes.

“It’s nice here,” Logan continued, not oblivious to Veronica’s probing stare. He waited a beat before adding, “I speak enough Spanish to get by and the surfing’s pretty good, kind of like home.”

“Do you ever think about going back?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” he asked. “To take me back?”

“I’m not going to force you to do anything Logan,” she shook her head. “You wanted to leave and you left.”

“Then why are you here Veronica?”

She started to speak, but the only thing that left her mouth was a sigh. Logan nodded, as if her not saying anything spoke volumes.

She tried again, “I don’t know why I’m here.”

“Well, you must have some reason,” he said. “Or else I’m figuring you wouldn’t have tried looking in the first place.”

“Maybe I miss you,” she shrugged, but her shoulders were so small and slumped she might as well not have.

They fell into silence again and it was really starting to make Logan feel uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure he liked who they’d become and who they couldn’t be together. Of course if he had a choice, he wasn’t sure which version of themselves he’d pick anyway. He barely remembered who they were before Lilly had died and he knew that her death had shaped them all into sharp angles that just didn’t fit anymore. It was like they were a broken jig-saw puzzle, with missing pieces and notches that didn’t match.

“They found Duncan,” Veronica said softly, turning her head to avoid seeing his reaction.

“Yeah,” his voice took on the same soft tone as hers. “I know, saw it on the news.”

“I guess I figured that it was just us now,” she told him. “And you weren’t even there.”

“What happened to the kid?”

“The Mannings have custody of her right now, but Jake and Celeste are fighting it.”

“They won’t win.”

“I know,” Veronica admitted with a sort of sad nod.

“So, you came because of Duncan?” Logan asked.

“No.”

And while they were miles from where they had started, Logan was fairly certain that they were back at the beginning. Sitting on a beach, talking about everything and nothing. Duncan was still between them and he probably always would be. It was different, but exactly the same.

“It is just us now, isn’t it?” Logan murmured.

“Yeah,” she responded.

It was strange because things had never really been like they were before Lilly had died. And it always seemed as if they were struggling alone, just to make it through life, or not at all. It had never been just the two of them, never just him or her and Duncan, not since Lilly.

“I don’t think I can go back Veronica,” he shook his head. “Not to where we used to be. Not to Neptune.”

“I’m not going to twist your arm,” she said indifferently, not bothering to argue. “Just thought I’d give you the option.”

Veronica hadn’t enjoyed fighting with Logan in years. The game got old and tired, she got sick of it and so did he. He left shortly after the last time they fought. He vaguely remembered smashing a vase to the floor and her simply walking away, without so much as a frown on her face, whispering that it was his mess now and not hers.

He had to admit that he thought she might come for him sooner, but like some overused cliché, the days turned into months, and then years, and then he began to forget that he ever loved Veronica Mars. Or that he fell in love with Lilly Kane before her.

The still quiet air surrounded them and Veronica glanced over at Logan’s contemplative face, his brows drawn together and his lips pressed in a firm line. And as different as the situation might have been, how different he was now, Veronica knew that he wasn’t coming with her.

There was something here that let him forget who he used to be and all the pain that had been so present in their lives. And although she’d be the first one to tell him that forgetting was probably the last thing that he needed, she understood why he’d want to. Hell, she wanted to, too.

“I guess that’s it then,” she said, the indifferent air she held just minutes before, faltering.

Veronica stood, brushing the sand from her pants, and gave him a tight grin. When he wanted to remember, when even forgetting became too hard, he’d come back. At least, she thought, that he might. He didn’t stand with her, just returned her grin and let his eyes wander to the ocean again.

As she began to walk a way, what had become a familiar sight to Logan over the years, his hand lightly grabbed for hers. She stopped suddenly, her feet stuck in the sand, but she didn’t turn around, just slipped her own hand a little further into his. It still fit, which surprised them both, because if they’d changed half as much as they thought they did, somehow, by some rationale, it shouldn’t have fit at all.

Logan let his fingers gently curl over Veronica’s, his thumb passing over the back of her hand like it used to before. Then he loosened his grip, his fingers trying to slip from hers, but she held firm for a moment more. Just one small squeeze before she let go.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he agreed.

And she figured it shouldn’t have been that easy to leave him. Sitting on the beach, his long legs still crossed at the ankle, his eyes still focused on the waves that crashed evenly on the shore.

But it was.

</div>

insunshine — Mon, 19 Jun 2006 15:01:38 GMT

Title: A Certain Romance
Characters: Logan/Veronica. Donkeys. Aaron, Lilly mentions.
Word Count: 2530
Spoilers/Warnings: A certain event in the finale that you'll get to close to the end of the story. But I mean, even if you haven't seen the finale, you can just assume that it happened some other way. Also, general S1 stuff. Like, Lilly is dead and Aaron killed her.
Rating: R for language.
Summary: Logan and Veronica go to GREECE. Written for the vmtruechallenge which had its writers sending the VMars characters all over the world. Since I'm actually Greek and have been there more times than I can count, this was especially fun for me.
Author's Notes: I cannot even tell you how much fun this was to write. I hope you like it as much as I do.

If someone had asked her where she wanted to go in life, what countries she desperately wanted to see, what new experiences she wanted to have in her travels, riding up a cliff on the back of a broken down donkey in sweltering heat of an island in Greece, would not have been on the list. In fact, if Veronica never had to see a donkey-ever again, after they got where they were going of course, she would be a happy camper. Never, actually would probably be too soon, and she had a feeling that the donkey felt the same way.

“You do know that there’s no other way down, right?” What? Glancing over at her companion who lazed as comfortably on his own donkey as he would on his Lazee Boy, she scowled.

“You know, honey,” She cooed, sugary sweetness that she did not feel oozing out of her lips. “When I said, ‘for our Honeymoon you can pick anywhere in the world for us to go! Anywhere at all!’ I was thinking more along the lines of deep sea diving in Barbados, white water rafting in the wilds of Canada, sitting on the beaches of Morocco drinking something with a little red umbrella in it.” She was well aware of the fact that her voice had gone shrill, but she was fairly certain her donkey had ticks and that one of them was now resting on her thigh. Fabulous. “Where is my little red umbrella, Logan? Where is my beach? The last time I went to the beach, there were no freaking DONKEYS.” She’d been trying to keep her voice low. The locals had already been so kind to them, even though the language barrier was a tough one to cross and she didn’t want to seem like an ungracious twit. But at the mention of the word donkey, the man driving hers glanced back in excitement.

“Oh YES! Donkey good, eh?” He called, waving his hat merrily and not particularly looking where he was going.

Veronica felt her stomach dropping just a little father. They were riding up a gorge. A very rocky, very dangerous looking gorge-and there didn’t seem to be a guardrail in sight.

“I hate you.” She muttered to her husband of all of 72 hours before looking forward to her driver and smiling as prettily as she could. “Yes, donkey good!” She called back, and she was fairly certain that even the non English-speaking donkey laughed at that.

“Veronica, look around. It’s beautiful here. There’s peace, there’s quiet, the view is-”

“What are you going to do, Logan, when the hovel that we’re staying in has no electricity? Or how about the fact that we don’t speak the language?” Her hiss was venomous, her eyes cutting, but instead of going green, as she’d expected, his smile only brightened.

“I don’t need electricity for what I have planned.” His eyebrows danced comically, and if her shirt hadn’t been sweat-glued to her back and her hair hadn’t expanded to the size of Mt. Olympus (ha, ha) she would have laughed. She distinctly heard the words ‘good lover, eh?’ from the drivers in front of them, and felt her stomach drop again. This was not what she had planned.

“Do you know what I had planned, Logan?” She asked, her question a bit more pointed than she’d expected it to be. “Nice, comfy pajamas. A bed without a mosquito nets, a heated pool maybe. Not to be RIDING UP THE SIDE OF A FUCKING UNPROTECTED CLIFF ON THE BACK OF A DONKEY.” There were suddenly many more people around than she’d anticipated. Both the drivers turned back to look, and there were washerwomen on the side of the road above them whose eyes narrowed at the sight of her. Her face, if possible, colored even more, and she hid her head in her hands, exhaustion roaring through her.

“Veronica, Veronica, it’s Okay. Look. Look out there. Look at the view.” She didn’t want to. She really didn’t want to, but his voice sounded so struck. So…unjaded that she couldn’t not.

So she did. And it took her breath away.

“Are we that high up?” She breathed, her eyes as wide as saucers as she turned back to look at him, not even bothering to wait for his response before turning back to look. The sun was only now setting; it’s red gold haze comfortably sinking against the horizon. She didn’t think she’d ever seen something quite as beautiful.

“This probably wouldn’t be a good time to develop a fear-of-heights complex, yes.” He continued, oblivious to her awe.

“Shh.” She whispered, leaning her hand back to touch it to his lips. “It’s beautiful.” His lips smiled against her finger, his eyes focused on her instead of the beauty of their surroundings.

“It certainly is.” A beeping sound from above them claimed her attention suddenly, and she was treated to the sight of what appeared to be a large box with wheels turning the unprotected corner above their heads, going faster than any car she’d ever seen. The drivers seemed unfazed.

“Logan.” Her voice was as cold as ice, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Yes, Veronica?”

“That was a car.”

“Fascinating little things aren’t they?” He murmured back, his lips tipping in the knowing smirk she’d known for years.

“You said that there were no cars.” She was bordering on hysterics again, tears jumping to the corners of her eyes, and he wondered briefly if this was A Sign. Veronica was never this emotional, and he wondered if possibly-no. That wouldn’t be possible.

“I never said there were no cars.” He tried to make his voice as innocent as possible. It didn’t seem to be working very well, because in an instant the tears were gone and her eyes were narrow again.

“Down there,” She pointed wildly below them, her sudden gyrations frightening the beast below her. “You said that the best way up was by donkey. DONKEY. And now apparently there are little cars that do it? In what universe is an old, smelly DONKEY better than a car? Cars have air conditioning and reclining seats and doors. Cars most definitely have doors. Donkeys?! Not so much.”

“I believe I said that the best way to take in the sights would be by taking the scenic route aided by the local color. You don’t get more colorful-or more local than this.” His voice didn’t sound as amused as he’d been pitching for, and he bit his lip as concern filtered from his eyes. “Wanna switch?”

“What? Our tickets? Our Honeymoon? YES.”

“Donkeys?”

“What? Is my donkey bigger or something? I know you’re competitive, but I’m littler than you. You win in the height department.”

“Yours looks more comfortable than mine.” His eyes widened and his bottom lip sagged in a way he knew was irresistible. It was why she’d married him, after all.

“Right, I see. It’s our Honeymoon and instead of being,” She paused as she leaned over to him, as unstable in her seat as ever. “Naked and sweaty,” She let her lips close over the words and felt a rush of satisfaction as his eyes flashed. “I’m clothed and sweaty. And I have a feeling that for the next three weeks that we’re here?” Her voice was low and her eyes hooded as they gazed into his. “You’re going to be naked and sweaty alone.” Her lips were just inches from his face. Not even inches, actually and if he just leaned up, just a little, he could touch his lips lightly against hers. He chose for the stronger route. “OH MY GOD, LOGAN! What are you DOING?” She screeched as he dragged her from her mount, thumping her on the ride before him and sinking his lips on hers. She couldn’t even hear the drivers laugh. “What…” Her breathing was labored when he let go of her, her breath came out in quick, sharp bursts. “What the FUCK was that?” She asked after a moment, her eyes slowly refocusing.

“I hadn’t kissed you all day. I missed your taste.”

“I-” He leaned forward and look her lips again, simultaneously placing his hands on either side of her as they took the last sharp turn before getting on to the main road. “Right,” She murmured against him, and this time couldn’t help hearing the words ‘young love’ thrown around. Her cheeks flamed the color of apples, and she hid head face in his chest so that she wouldn’t have to face forward and see.

“We’re almost there, Veronica. Try and turn around.” His voice was low in her ear, and even though she didn’t like his tone, she didn’t want to move away from him.

“It’s too dark to see anything.”

“They have a great candle on the ledge system. It works really well for those non electricity having types.”

“I’m comfortable here.”

“And to think you said you hated donkeys.” She sat up at that, her eyes narrowing even though a smile played across her lips.

“Actually, I didn’t. I believe I said I hated you.” She murmured in the air before his lips.

“Twice,” He responded and kissed her again, with no ulterior motives this time. His lips were cool against hers, his fingers light as they played with the hem of her shirt. His driver’s cough broke their embrace. Turning, the man said something she could swear Logan didn’t understand, and when he only nodded smiling when they came to a halt, she was surprised.

“I didn’t know you spoke Greek.”

“I don’t.”

“So he could have said, I want to rape your wife and pillage your bounty and you just nodded and smiled to it.”

“Something like that.”

“Great.” She muttered, frowning as he slipped off the donkey’s back easily, coming around to her side and extending his hand.

“He also said, ‘we’re here, please give me 50 Euros.’”

“So you do speak Greek. Why would you lie to me, Logan?”

“Did you hear me doing any speaking?” He called back once he’d settled her on the ground and had walked a few feet to where the two men stood, holding the reins of the donkeys. She distinctly thought she heard him say something in very badly accented Greek. She frowned.

“Our drivers say good night, Veronica. And that,” He paused for a moment, a light chuckle tipping from his lips. “And that your theatrics were quite amusing. They wanted to know if you were an actress, preparing for the show. One of them swore he’d seen us on his satellite.”

“Yeah, probably ducking from the press.”

“It’s a distinct possibility.”

“So did you tell them, I’m the son of a multimillion dollar murder and my wife is the girl from the wrong side of the tracks?”

“No, I said my wife had been in porn and didn’t like reliving that part of her past.”

“WHAT?”

“Or that, y’know, you were Grace Kelley’s great granddaughter and didn’t like your identity known to the public.”

“I can deal with being royal.” She smiled, her first smile of the night, he thought, and he extended his hand as he began to walk.

“Where are you going?” She called, her voice small in the dark.

“To the hotel. You may want to stay out here, but the miges are even more ferocious at night.”

“The me yes? What?” He sighed good naturedly, his hand reaching behind him to rub at the back of his neck.

“The flies, Veronica. You thought they were gross on the way up, but they have their own little conferences at night.”

“So miges is the word for flies.”

“Right.”

“And you know this because…?”

“Veronica…”

“Oh, I get it.” Her eyes were suddenly angry and for the life of him, he didn’t know why. She hadn’t even seen the disgustingly romantic rose petal-champagne combo he’d had ordered to their room yet.

“Get what, Veronica?”

“You were here, a really long time ago, right? And you met some girl…and what? You brought me back to impress her? Show her uptight father that you could do better? After all, I am Grace Kelley’s great granddaughter after all.” She started walking down the hilly path, in the complete opposite direction of the hotel.

“You’re not really Grace Kelly’s granddaughter.”

“Yeah, but you know how Greeks talk.”

“I do?”

“Why did you tell them I was Grace freaking Kelley’s grand daughter if you didn’t have an ulterior motive?”

“Because I didn’t want to explain that I was Aaron Echolls’ son.” His voice sounded tired, as if, not the length of the day, but she alone had stolen his spirit from him. It wasn’t a fun feeling. “Yes, that Aaron Echolls.” He continued on a sigh, his eyes hooded and dark. “Yes, I’m the son of the beloved movie star who didn’t kill that underage American slut. Yes, I disagree with his acquittal. No, actually, I’m not sorry he’s dead, and has been for 10 years. In fact, I think there should be a parade.” He grinned sardonically, shrugging his shoulders slightly in the light wind. “Frankly, my dear, I don’t know that much Greek.”

“But you do know some.”

“Yes.”

“And there’s no girl.”

“There’s no girl, Veronica. I-” He stopped, a sense of a realization he hadn’t thought possible dawning over him. He couldn’t help it, he laughed.

“What?”

“I forgot all the others when…I forgot all the others when I met you.” Her eyes were wide; this is uncharted territory for them, even though Lilly had been gone for over a decade.

“Oh.” She responded, unexpected tears shining on her cheeks. He brushed them away with the pad of his thumb, extending his other hand out to her again.

“Are you ready to go?” She nodded, clutching his hand, tight.

And when they rounded the curving staircase, she gasped. A glittering blue pool sat in the center of the champagne tiled patio, white metal lawn chairs spread haphazardly around it. Her eyes widened as she turned and saw little white stone houses twinkling back at her. There were a few poolside, and as they walked further in, she noticed the gorgeous stenciled seascape on the ground.

“This is…” Her voice trailed off and she couldn’t stop looking around, her eyes dancing with delight. “This is possibly the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”

“God, Ronnie, had I known you were so easy, I would have taken you to the Camelot for our Honeymoon.”

“Very funny.”

“I think so. Although I’m not too sure how my ass looks in armor. We should totally check it out.” Veronica couldn’t help but laughing. She laughed so hard that she forgot where they were, she laughed so hard that it didn’t matter, and then she realized that as long as she was with him, it really didn’t matter.

“I love you,” She blurted, her eyes wide as she glanced over to him. He shrugged his shoulders, his smile clearly evident, even in the night.

“I know.”

Do it, Veronica Mars!

truemyth — Thu, 08 Jun 2006 04:46:16 GMT

Summer is a time for travel, seeing new places, meeting new friends, learning new cultures. That’s right. Summer is a time for the Where in the World is Veronica Mars? challenge!

Well, she sneaks around the world from Kiev to Carolina,
She's a sticky-fingered filcher from Berlin down to Belize.
She'll take you for a ride on a slow boat to China. Tell me:

Where in the world is Veronica Mars?

The rules are simple:

Think of a country of the world that you would like to write about.
Check the list to make sure it hasn’t already been claimed.
E-mail truechallenge @ gmail.com with your top choices.
Once you get confirmation of your country assignment back, you WRITE.
Stories can use any Veronica Mars characters or pairings. They can take place at any time and deal with any alternate universe reality the author wishes. All that is required is that the majority of the action in the story take place in your assigned country.
Stories should be at least 1,000 words long.
Please, only submit new stories to this challenge.
If you would like to write a second story, new countries can be claimed after June 30th.
Post your story by August 31st, 2006 to be included in the readers’ polls and judges’ choice awards consideration.

Thank you to strippedpink for making the fabulous pimp banner, header, and icon graphics for this challenge. And I think lostt1 did a stupendous job manipulating Veronica’s face onto Carmen Sandiego. It would be cruel for you all not to plaster their excellent work all over the internet.

In other words: PIMP!

Well, she'll ransack Pakistan, and run a scam in Scandinavia,
Then she'll stick 'em up down under and go pick-pocket Perth.
She put the "Miss" in misdemeanor when she stole the beans from Lima. Tell me:

Where in the world is Veronica Mars?

Claimed Countries

truemyth — Thu, 08 Jun 2006 04:19:22 GMT

The following countries have been claimed as of 5:30 p.m. PST, June 12th:

Australia ~ shizam23

Canada ~ rowanceleste

Cayman Islands ~ reve_silencieux

Czech Republic, The ~ itsthedetails

Costa Rica ~ brin_bailey

Bangladesh ~ monimala

Belize ~ rindee

Egypt ~ kantayra

England ~ surrexi

France ~ spoilsofwar

Germany ~ dasq

Greece ~ insunshine

Italy ~ shellabelle81

India ~ queen_haq

Ireland ~ silver_fic

Jamaica ~ ebonypsyche

Japan ~ utsusemia

Mexico ~ teenwitch77

New Zeland ~ wingsister

Scotland ~ blue_icy_rose

Tanzania ~ chibi_care

Wales ~ ionaonie

Please note: The Unitied States is NOT AN OPTION. I think we get enough Veronica Mars fanfic set there, don't'cha know.

To claim a country, please e-mail your choice to truechallenge @ gmail.com. Don't forget to include your LJ account name!

Posting Guidlines

truemyth — Thu, 08 Jun 2006 03:02:05 GMT

You may post the body of your submission anywhere, but you must post to this community with the following information and a link to your story if you wish it to be included in the awards voting. You are welcome to post the body of your story in this community if you desire. You are welcome to cross-post your story anywhere you like (a link back to this community would be much appreciated).

Subject line:

"Title" (Rating) Characters/Pairing

If your fic is part of a WIP, please include the chapter number/total number of chapters. (ex: 3/5, 1/7) like so:
“Title” [5/?] (Rating) Characters/Paring

Body Heading:

Title:
Author:
Characters/Pairings:
Rating:
Length:
Spoilers/Warnings:
Summary:
Notes:

Please put the actual story behind an LJ-cut or include a link to the story if the body is posted somewhere else.