Chapter Text
NEPTUNE
Ashes Never Lie
Part 3
🎬 PROLOGUE
The living room has a smell. A mixture of cold coffee, paper, fatigue, and... her. Always her. Even when she's not there.
LOGAN (voice-over) "I'm going crazy. I can feel it in my skin. In my hands. In my chest. In that emptiness right there, under my ribs. The emptiness she leaves when she's no longer in the room."
He sits at the big table. Mac highlights. Mike types. Even though from time to time, they glance anxiously because the discussion wasn't over. Far from it.
But him. Him... he sees nothing. He reads nothing. He thinks of nothing but the sheet.
The sheet he nailed up himself. He remembers the sound of the hammer. The fabric trembling. His fingers slipping. His heart beating too fast. As if nailing up a sheet could protect her. As if nailing up a sheet could hold her back.
LOGAN (voice-over) “I really thought it would be enough. A sheet. A piece of fabric. To give her a place to breathe. To make her feel safe. So she could... Goddamn it. I'm such an idiot.”
Behind the sheet, Veronica speaks. To her father. Her voice is low. Too low. She has that gentleness that she hardly ever uses with him anymore. A gentleness that makes his throat tighten.
VERONICA (behind the sheet) “Dad... it's complicated.”
Logan closes his eyes. He feels his heart contract. Physically. Like a hand squeezing too hard.
LOGAN (voice-over) "Complicated. Yeah. That could be anything. The commission. Carver. Her traumas. The virus. The investigation. Me. Mr. Perfect. I don't know. I don't know anything. And it's killing me.“
A silence. Then a sentence that tears at his skin.
VERONICA (behind the sheet) ”No, Dad. He didn't do anything. It's just... your daughter who's unstable mentally.”
Logan opens his eyes suddenly. He feels like someone has just punched him in the chest. Hard. Very hard.
LOGAN (voice-over) "Mentally unstable. That's how she describes herself. Her. Veronica. The strongest girl I've ever known. The girl who has survived everything. The girl who always gets back up. And she says that. And I can't do anything. Nothing. I'm sitting here like an idiot. Listening. Wondering if she's talking about the investigation. The commission. Her traumas. About... me. Or that guy. That fucking guy."
Hope. But a burning hope. He clenches his fists. His nails dig into his palms. He doesn't even feel the pain.
LOGAN (voice-over) "And what if she really is talking about me? That means she's saying I didn't do anything. And that should be a relief. But it's killing me. Because it's not true. Because I did something. I did too much. I kissed her yesterday. Like an idiot. Like a kid. Like a guy who doesn't know how to control himself. Her body had just let go of what overwhelmed it. She had just broken down. She had just relived her rape through the other testimonies. And me... I kissed her. I'm a fucking idiot."
He runs a hand over his face. He feels the heat in his cheeks. The shame. The guilt. The love.
LOGAN (voice-over) "And this morning... I let my emotions get the better of me. I let that sentence slip out. ‘You're wrong about my intentions, Veronica.’ What an idiot. What a fucking idiot. This isn't the time. This isn't the time to try to win her back. This isn't the time to try to make her fall in love again. This is not the time to want... us. Not when she's sick. Not when she's shaking. Not when she's in the middle of recovering from a crisis. Not when she says she's not mentally healthy. Not when she's suffering. Not now. Not like this."
The sound of water. The sink. She washes her hands. For a long time. Too long. He knows that sound. He knows that rhythm. He knows that gesture. It's a gesture of survival. A gesture of control. A gesture of panic.
LOGAN (voice-over) "She broke down three times in my arms. Three times. In less than twenty-four hours. And she hates it. She hates being seen as fragile. She hates falling. She hates being dependent. She hates... needing someone... maybe even more than me, given the situation. And me... Me, I'm stupid enough to still want her. To want to hold her. To want to catch her. To want... Damn it. I'm hopeless."
The sound of water stops. Silence. A silence that is not normal. A silence that hurts him physically.
LOGAN (voice-over) “She's sick. And I don't know why. I don't know what she's hiding. I don't know what she refuses to see. I don't know what's going on behind that sheet. And it's killing me. It's killing me not to know. It's killing me not to be able to help her. It's killing me to lose her a little more every minute.”
A rustling of fabric. She moves. She comes back to the sheet. Logan sits up. His heart races. His hands tremble. His breath catches.
LOGAN (voice-over) "This time... She's not really coming back. And I'm scared. I'm really scared. Because I don't know how to bring her back. Not without rushing her. Not without losing her. Not without losing myself. Not without... loving her too much.“
The sheet moves.
LOGAN (voice-over) ”Jean Cocteau said, ‘There is no love, there are only proofs of love.’ And mine always come at the wrong time. Always too strong. Always too late."