Summary: Maybe it's because deep down inside she knows that he, better than anyone, understands alcoholic mothers who abandon you.
Pairing/Characters: Logan/Veronica
Timeline: Leading up to the events in Ruskie Business. After that, it's all me.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, nada, nilch.

A/N: This is dedicated to my dear friend Mae who is just as in LoVe as I am and inspired me to get back on the writing wagon. We're sitting together on the edge of our proverbial seats waiting, wishing, hoping for a Season 4. In my writing absence I have apparently forgotten how much FF and its formatting hate me.

Inspired by the song Sway by The Perishers, which is arguably the most perfect song for Veronica and Logan.



I talk to you as to a friend

I hope that's what you've come to be
It feels as though we've made amends
Like we found a way, eventually

It was you who picked the pieces up
When I was a broken soul
And then glued me back together
Returned to me what others stole

--

After she calls him, she doesn't stop to think about why.

She doesn't think about why she doesn't call Leo instead. Doesn't think about why, after the emotional train wreck that was her reunion with her mother, after the fragile world she had worked so hard to rebuild around her this past year had once again come crashing down, she didn't hesitate to pick up her phone and call him, sobbing incoherently.

Maybe it's because deep down inside she knows that he, better than anyone, understands alcoholic mothers who abandon you.

Either way, when she gets off her plane, there he is, waiting for her outside the gate. They don't exchange any words as he leads her to his car. They don't speak during the ride either; the radio is the only noise between them. They both act as though it is perfectly normal that she has called him, of all people, to come and get her.

As though they haven't spent the better part of the year hating each other.

She knows he understands. His eyes say it all. They reflect the same heartbreak and despair in her own. He knows, without her saying so, that she's in no shape to go home. So it's no surprise when they pull up to his sprawling estate. He cuts the engine as they reach the house and quickly jumps out of the car, making his way around to her side, offering his hand to help her get out.

He doesn't let go as they enter the house.

She notices, thankfully, that Trina and Aaron are nowhere to be found. In fact, she doesn't hear any sounds of life; the house is oddly silent. She wonders idly to herself if he has sent the staff all home, knowing that they'd be curious about her presence. Curious as to why she, who used to spend day in and day out at this very house, has suddenly reappeared after a year-long absence. It is strangely comforting to think that he has gone through all the trouble.

It almost brings a smile to her face.

However, before the corners of her mouth can even twitch, she is reminded that it is not quite true that she has been away from this house for so long. She is reminded about the last time that she was here and what had transpired. She is reminded about what it had been like for him when his father had been stabbed by a scorned lover. When his mother had still been alive to witness it. When she hadn't yet known about her own mother's infidelities. Hadn't been forced to question her very own identity.

It numbs her to think of all the pain that they've had to endure in such a short time.

She's too numb to even care when he leads her to his room. She only sits silently on his bed as he removes her jacket and her shoes. Doesn't object when he gently lays her down and pulls his blanket up over her. Doesn't even flinch when she feels the bed dip and his body shift and settle beside her.

As she feels the weight of the past few days wash over her, she begins to drift off to sleep. Her last thought before the fatigue overcomes her is that this should feel wrong; being here, with him, should feel wrong.

But it doesn't.

----------

As he watches her drift off into a fitful sleep, he marvels at how deceptively young and innocent she looks. Untouched by life and its cruel hardships. She almost seems like the old Veronica. Warm and carefree.

He knows that she's not that girl anymore.

She's toughened up and turned away from Pep Squad and Pirate Points. Gone is the naïve girl she used to be. The one who believed the best about everyone. The girl who he knows today doesn't trust anyone. Her days are now filled with investigating everything the sundry characters of Neptune try to hide. She is fierce and strong and doesn't let anyone get close to her, believing that they will all let her down in the end.

He doesn't know which he prefers.

His thoughts shift to their current situation. How they've come to be here together. At this tentative truce that has sprouted up between them; unspoken and unexplained but there nonetheless. They have somehow become closer now than they had ever been in their years of friendship.

He doesn't understand where this sudden urge to protect and comfort her has

come from. Only that it's there and he's not going to question it. He simply accepts it as a fact of his life. He doesn't question why she called him for help, why she has decided to trust him, only that she did and that he would, without a doubt, be there for her.

She has been there for him when he needed someone the most, despite the way

he has treated her this past year. She opened her door and her heart to him in his darkest hour when no one would have blamed her for slamming it in his face. He certainly wouldn't have. He doesn't know why she did it but he is thankful all the same.

He knows he wouldn't have made it through without her.

So he thinks that maybe it's gratitude that moves his hand to her face and brushes back the hair that's resting there. Gratitude that squeezes his heart tightly when he sees the pained expression that passes on her sleeping face.

Gratitude that wraps his arms around her.

----------

She is running, always running. She has never felt so lost or alone. She thinks, somewhere in the recesses of her mind, that this is what Scarlett O'Hara must've felt like, running through the mist. She can hear voices all around her. Lilly. Duncan. Her mother. They carry to her through the wind but are snatched away before she can reach them.

She twists and turns, thrashing violently until she feels a featherlike kiss on her forehead and something akin to a blanket wrapped around her. It is only then that she drifts into a dreamless sleep.

When she wakes up, she finds that the blanket she thought she was clutching to is actually Logan's shirt. Embarrassed and not wanting to disturb him, she turns onto her other side, only to come face to face with herself. There, on Logan's nightstand, is the picture of the four of them, from homecoming.

She pauses to wonder why he's kept this very picture by his side all this time. Why he didn't cut her out of it, or replace it with a picture of him and Lilly alone. She doesn't know why but this latest revelation breaks through the last of her composure.

Just when she thinks she's spent all her tears on her mother, she feels the telltale moisture escaping out of the corner of her eyes. Tears for her dead best friend. Tears for her shattered youth. Tears for the boy lying beside her.

Before she can let out the sniffle she's holding in, Logan's arms tighten around her in his sleep. She briefly closes her eyes and feels her body relax. She is amazed at how such a simple gesture immediately calms her.

When she finally turns away from the picture and back onto her side she is not surprised to find Logan, wide awake and staring at her.

Somehow, in this indescribable new relationship they share, he always knows exactly when she needs him.

----------

As her eyes connect with his, her gaze is unabashed; unwavering. He can see the unshed tears glistening in them, making them wide and glassy.

He doesn't think she's ever looked more beautiful.

In the closed silence of his room, he thinks about all the times in the last year that he has lashed out at her; blamed her and hurt her, all because he couldn't see through his own grief at losing Lilly. Couldn't see that she was just as lost as he was.

As they lie together in his bed, he thinks about how ironic it is that death can bring people together just as quickly as it can tear them apart. After Lilly's death he had pushed Veronica out of his life. His mother's death had brought her back to him.

For that, he is grateful.

He realizes now that despite everything that he has done to hurt her, there was no one else he would have gone to after Lynn's death. It would have always been Veronica. It is reassuring to know that it is apparently the same for her. That despite everything, she has trusted him enough to understand. To be there for her no questions asked. To comfort her.

But comfort isn't the only thing he wishes for her. He wants her to heal. He knows how grief and heartache can consume you until you can't see straight. But he doesn't want to push. He knows she's used to being strong and independent and that nothing should faze her, but he also knows that whatever happened between now and the last time he saw her at the dance, that something has shifted.

Something has happened that has left her raw and vulnerable. And something aches inside of him to make it better; to take away that hurt and that pain.

He brings his hand up to cup her cheek, gently stroking the soft skin there, hoping that the strength of his support is clear. Hopes that she understands what he's trying to convey.

He wants to put her back together again.

----------

When she looks into the dark pools of his eyes she thinks that maybe she is truly seeing him for the first time. Seeing into his very soul. That he is opening himself up to her as a way of saying 'trust me, because I trust you'. It is in this moment that she sees what Lilly must have seen in him. The little boy so full of love and hope that he so carefully protected from the outside world.

She doesn't think she's ever loved anyone more.

His unasked question hangs in the silence between them. She knows that he will not push, will not pry, and will accept anything she is ready to give for the moment. This only intensifies her desire to bare her own soul to him.

Unbidden, her tears and her words spill out simultaneously. She tells him of all that has happened to her in the year that they have been apart. Of the loneliness and despair; of the betrayal and damage that she has been party to.

Of the mother who, like his, has abandoned her.

He says nothing. There are flashes of pain and anger on his solemn face. Pain for all that she has had to go through alone. Anger at himself and at others in her life for failing her. But he lets her continue the cathartic outpour. Only hugs her tighter and wipes away her tears.

This is her moment to heal.

When she is finished, there is a moment of peaceful silence. She feels as though the weight of the world on her shoulders has shifted. It is still there, holding steady, but it now feels as though there is an extra pair of shoulders sharing in the burden.

The mood in the room changes imperceptibly as she catches him looking at her intently; carefully searching her eyes for something. He apparently finds what he's looking for because he leans his head down and gently touches his lips to hers. Once, twice, three times. The moment is quick and soft and she can almost convince herself that it didn't really happen. He kisses her again, more firmly this time, then settles back to re-connect his gaze with hers.

The faintest hint of a smile that plays on his lips warms her very soul.

She doesn't know what tomorrow will bring. What will happen when they set foot outside this room and the real world comes rushing back in. She knows that they cannot go back to the way things were. Not now, not ever. She thinks that perhaps everything that has happened has lead up to this moment. Has brought them back to one another, where they belong.

Because for the first time since Lilly died, and maybe even before that, she feels like her feet are finally touching solid ground.

--