Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Lost World, but I sure wish I did! We could all have such a fun time together! I'm just writing this story for fun and in the hope that you who read it will enjoy it. The song is from the movie "Casper," which I highly recommend.

Category: I don't know, its a songfic, a little angst maybe? It's N/V at any rate.

Rating: G

Spoilers: Anything up to "Endgame."

Archiving: Sure, go ahead, just let me know where so I can see how popular it is! J

Authors note: I've actually kind of had this story in mind since "Hollow Victory," but never could quite get around to writing it. So now Veronica comes back and the whole thing comes to me. I'd been thinking about how to work these lyrics into a story for a while, and finally was able to get it written. This is my take on what Veronica might have been thinking right after the end of "Endgame." I hope you like it!

Veronica was up early; no one else in the treehouse was stirring. Truth to tell, she was just as tired, physically and mentally, from the encounter with the Death demon as the others were, but she was used to waking up this early, and she wanted a few moments to herself. It had rained lightly the night before, and a soft mist rose from the jungle around them. She leaned against the railing on the balcony, her hands clutching a picture frame. She brought it up and gently traced Ned's face. She missed him, so much. She had expected to see him when she got home, and to learn he had gone off had been an almost physical blow.

"Ned, where are you?" she whispered, holding the picture against her as she looked out at the jungle.

Veronica had had a connection to Ned from the beginning; after all, it was she who saved him from the plant that wanted to eat him the first time she met Challenger's group. Since then, he'd always been there for her, bolstering her confidence, encouraging her and giving her true friendship. She remembered how he'd helped her get the royal jelly to save Summerlee, remembered the time he had, however foolishly, fought to keep her from Niko, who'd dreamed of her as his bride, remembered the way he had comforted her after the betrayal of the man she'd thought was her father. She thought about the many times he had touched her hand or smiled at her with that special smile, just to let her know he was there and thinking of her. Of all the explorers, Ned was the one who truly understood her, the one she had always thought of as her best friend.

In spite of the heartache she was feeling, a large part of her understood why Ned had left. He'd gone through so many changes since the day he had arrived on the plateau. Veronica had seen a man who was so caught up in wonder that he had nearly killed himself at least twice a week becoming a man who was more aware and careful. She had seen several of his cherished ideas become truth that was real, but a far cry from what they had been. She had seen a reporter who had recorded the action turn into someone that took part in and controlled the action.

She also understood that many things he had thought about himself had turned around in this Lost World. She knew he had come on the expedition to prove himself to Gladys, but she had also seen that he was trying to prove something to himself. He was trying to define who he was. Veronica knew Ned was a reporter, but also an explorer, a diplomat, a friend, a kind soul who wanted to do the right thing but sometimes made things even worse. He had found, in his time on the plateau, that what he knew about the world had been turned on its ear. He had even been in the spirit world and had come back with strange new abilities. She knew he needed time away, to reflect on his experiences and the changes within himself, and decide on who he was and what things made up Ned Malone.

Yet he was still there, his presence still filling the treehouse. Veronica saw him in everything. Everywhere she turned her memories supplied her with pictures, moments snapped in time that recorded Ned's life here, with their friends. His journals sat on the table; full of his careful writing that preserved his time and experiences here on the plateau, available for her to read. She had a connection to him that way whenever she wanted. She took a deep breath of the cool morning air as she stared out. Somewhere, maybe even in the direction she was looking, Ned was trying to find out who he was.

Ned was the gentlest soul Veronica had ever known. Not that he was above action, even violence, to do what was necessary to save themselves and others, but in the end, it was his kind heart and spirit that guided his actions. She remembered Roxton telling her about the time Ned had been healed by Lento, who had then been buried in the pain of a lifetime of healing evils. Ned had tried to do the right thing by freeing him, and in the end had saved Summerlee and the others by killing Lento. She knew how much that had torn Ned up, how much he had questioned himself after the incident. She had been witness to the many little digs Marguerite had taken at Ned, things that would have made many other men completely hate Marguerite. Yet Ned had not; in spite of her remarks, he still cared about her and did his best to keep her safe. He always tried to find a peaceable solution.

She hoped that he would be safe, that he would remember all that he had learned in his time on the plateau. She prayed that somehow he would not suffer, that he would find what he was looking for and be able to return to them safely. She hoped he knew that they were all thinking of him and keeping him in their thoughts. She hoped that he knew he had friends who cared about him deeply and wanted him back among them.

Challenger, Marguerite and Roxton had related to her the time and effort Ned had put into finding her, the intense way he scrutinized maps and weather, the tireless treks he made to one place or another. They had told her of his unwavering belief that she would return safely, and of his fervent desire to find her and bring her home. Veronica was touched deeply by what they had said; especially that Challenger had told her that Ned would never leave without her. It had taken all her effort not to cry at that statement. She had never really realized how deeply he had cared. No, she had never really wanted to realize it. She'd been so scared of caring about someone that much and then losing him like she had lost her parents.

However, she couldn't hide the truth from herself any longer. She knew Ned loved her, and, as frightening as it might be to admit, she knew she loved him too. No matter what had happened, her heart was firmly entwined with his. He complimented her in so many ways. The naïve reporter and the skilled jungle beauty, quickly firm friends, shared innocence about and joy in life that bound them together. Ned had taught her that maybe she didn't have to cut herself off in her search for her parents. Maybe she could embrace her new family and let herself enjoy time with them and still look for her parents. She could open her heart and feel more than just sadness and determination; she had experienced laughter, tears, anger, the gentle teasing and jokes, and had gradually formed a bond with everyone in the group. She had Ned to thank for that.

She wanted desperately to believe that he would be safe in his quest, to believe that he would be able to heal his hurts and come back again to his new family. Roxton had told her a little of what Ned had said about his experience in the war, and her heart had bled for him. To have suffered through and experience like that and still have the capacity to believe in people and believe that there were ideals worth fighting for spoke volumes to the strength of his character.

She closed her eyes. 'Ned,' she thought, 'I want you to hear me. Find your best memory of me, of all of us, and hold it close to you to keep you warm, to let you know that you are always with us in spirit.'

'I'll think of you every morning when I get up, and every night when I go to sleep. I'll read your journals and imagine your voice reading them to me. I will make sure that we set you a place, every meal, for the day when you do get back. Please hear me, Ned. Please know that we are with you in spirit'. She thought about the time that he had sought his true desires in a dreamworld, and that in the end he had chosen his friends. 'Please, Ned, remember that time. Remember that we are not only your friends, but your family too.'

Veronica opened her eyes and looked out. The morning mist had cleared, and the jungle shone in the sunlight, clear and clean. She watched as a trio of small birds darted back and forth in an elaborate, stately dance. It was all so lovely this morning. She again brought the picture up before her and looked deeply into the eyes of the young reporter. She could see in them the wonder he felt about his situation as he prepared to record it. She began to speak.

"Please, whoever is listening. Please keep watch over Ned. He's a kind man, a good man, and I...I love him. I love him very much. He means so much to me. Please help him find what he's looking for, and bring him home safely. Please bring him back to us, back to me. I miss you, Ned. Be careful."

Out of nowhere, a gentle little breeze sprang up and caressed her face, bringing to her the fresh scent of new-washed earth and the sweet smell of jungle flowers. She let out a little laugh even through the tears that gathered in her eyes. It felt, at that moment, that Ned was right here beside her.

"Oh, Ned," she whispered. "Come home soon. I'll be waiting right here for you."

With that she headed back into the treehouse and back to her friends, ready to begin a new day with the hope that, someday soon, Ned would be with them again.