AN ~ I apologise in advance for the angst. Anyone looking for a fluffy oneshot should really turn around. This short can be viewed as an alternate ending to S3E20 (The Bitch is Back). Rated M for language.

'Ruined'

by Witherwings

Who will fix me now? Dive in when I'm down? Save me from myself, don't let me drown.

Bring Me The Horizon – Drown

Rudderless on a raging sea, Logan stumbled out into the rain-slicked street. A distant foghorn blared and he twisted around just in time to make out a pair of lights slewing straight toward him. Instinct threw his palms out in front of him and he braced for impact.

It never came.

A second blast of noise was suffixed by the whir of an electric window. "You got a death wish, asshole? Get out of the goddam road!"

Dimly aware that his eyelids were screwed tightly shut, Logan forced them to part. Fuck! What felt like warm embers against his palms was in fact the engine beneath the hood of the black Mercedes that had all but creased the pavement to avoid hitting him. He hadn't even seen it coming.

The driver leaned on the horn for a third time. "Are you deaf as well as stupid, kid? I said get out of the road!"

A ruddy man with quivering jowls, Logan thought it wise to acquiesce; he looked like he might bust a blood vessel at any second. Don't need to give this town another opportunity to pin a death on me, he thought. With a overly dramatic flourish, he stepped aside, bowed low and offered the irate motorist's middle finger his very best shit eating grin as he sped away.

Another car horn sounded behind him. Though less impatient in its delivery – a couple of short taps as opposed to one drawn out sound – Logan decided not to push his luck. Reluctantly following the heart-attack-in-waiting's advice, he dragged his feet to the sidewalk.

Three more blocks. Barely cognisant of the rain that still stung at his face or the way his sodden clothes clung to his skin like seaweed, Logan resumed course. His clothes were probably ruined but he didn't care; he had bigger things on his mind. Veronica. He needed to talk to her. Properly this time. He'd tried yesterday at the cafeteria – God knows he'd tried – but somehow he had managed to screw it up again by getting into (yet another) fist fight. At least this time he'd beat up the right person; Gory Sorokin was a self entitled prick.

Parker figured out the truth – she dumped him the second she realised the flame he held for Veronica still burned bright – hell, he was pretty sure Veronica knew too, but until he said the words... .

Suddenly, Logan stopped. The woman behind tutted loudly as she swerved around him. If just the prospect of confessing all to Veronica was enough to send his rabbit-hearted courage scurrying for cover, how on earth did he think that he would actually be able to go through with it face-to-face?

His hip flask chose that moment to call out to him again. Liberating it from its skintight prison, Logan quickly dispensed with the cap and knocked back the last dregs of his father's most expensive cognac. In truth he hated the taste but the trail of fire it left down his throat kept the rain's icy fingers at bay. Empty, he dropped it where he stood, and it was carried away to the mouth of a storm drain by one of the many rivers that ran across the sidewalk. Who am I kidding? he thought mournfully. How many times have we played out this symphony together? Why should it turn out any differently this time? Another day, another chance for Logan Echolls to fuck it all up.

Decision made, Logan turned leeward and marched away. Veronica had made her feelings quite clear. He had messed up one too many times, any reconciliation would be a long time coming this time.

Or would it? Logan stopped again. Maybe it was the booze talking but he was sure he had seen something in her eyes yesterday. He couldn't describe it, but as he'd stood over Gory's crumpled form there was definitely ... something. He resumed his original heading. Had anyone been around to witness him muttering to himself and staggering back and forth along the short stretch of sidewalk in the pouring rain, they might have thought him quite mad. Perhaps they were right.

Lost to his swirling thoughts, Logan nearly ploughed straight into a woman who had just emerged from one of the buildings that lined the street. "Sorry." Eyes downcast, his apology was a barely audible mumble.

The stranger stood their ground. "Logan?"

His eyes snapped up. Veronica? She wore the same curious expression he had glimpsed in the cafeteria yesterday – an ambiguous half smile that never quite managed to touch her eyes. His courage edged forwards slightly and sniffed the air. "Veronica?" he said aloud. "What are you doing here?" For reasons that had nothing to do with the cold, his hands began to tremble.

She pulled her pink jacket a little closer and chucked a thumb over her shoulder. "Polling day." Her smile faltered as her eyes drifted from his face to his sopping wet clothes. "What are you doing out here?" she asked. "Fancied a stroll in the beautiful Californian sunshine?"

Dripping with sarcasm, Logan felt his lips spasm into a weak smile in response. "Don't you know it never rains in Southern California." He felt certain his glib response would not fool Veronica.

He was right.

Her features instantly framed with worry, she touched the back of her conjoined fingers to his cheek. "My God Logan, you're freezing," she said with genuine concern. "You'll catch your death." Even as she admonished him she was riffling through her bag. After a few seconds she withdrew a bright green umbrella which opened obediently with a quick shake of her wrist. She moved closer so as to cover them both. "What are you doing out here," she repeated.

The rain drummed a staccato beat against their nylon canopy that matched the speed if not the cadence of Logan's pounding heart. What was he doing out here? He settled on the truth. "Actually," he began, "I was kind of hoping to run into you."

Big mistake, dumbass. Imperceptible to anyone else, Veronica's barricades immediately snapped up. Though there was only a few inches between them, it may as well have been an entire ocean. "I thought I told you yesterday that I needed some time this time, Logan?"

There was an almost pleading quality to her voice, but Logan couldn't help himself. He had to know how she truly felt about him. "But I thought after yesterday ... after what happened with Gory ... ?"

"After what, Logan?" she demanded, her temper already dangerously close to the surface. "After you apologised ... again? After you tried to save me with your fists ... again?" She slipped smoothly into her best southern belle. "And I'm supposed play the damsel in distress? Be grateful that you rescued lil' old me?"

"Yes ... No." His eyes slid shut as a wave of regret threatened to drown him; this was going about as badly as he could have imagined. "I ... I was just trying to look out for you."

Veronica stared at him. Although not quite a physical step backwards, Logan registered the greater distance between them all the same. "That's not your job anymore," she told him after a beat. "It never was."

Thunder, followed almost instantly by the stark flashbulb of lightning rolled overhead. The storm was now directly above them. Fearful of becoming a lightning rod for any subsequent bolt, Logan reached out and pushed the umbrella aside. Perhaps understanding his reasoning, Veronica offered no resistance to either Logan or the storm, the wind's cruel fingers snatching the umbrella out of her grasp and carrying it tumbling along the street.

Tinged fluorescent through the filter of their protective dome no longer, the sky now appeared so dark and foreboding that it looked as if it might simply fall on top of them. Perhaps that would have been better. Stung by her words, Logan's fragile self control failed and he lashed out with his fiercest weapon. His tongue. "That's right," he shouted. "Because heaven forbid the sainted Veronica Mars should ever need help from anyone. Much less a mere mortal like me.

"Oh, but that's right, I did save your ass ... more than once if I recall correctly. I don't remember you having a problem with me looking out for you then! You reckon you'd still have your virtue if Piz were your designated knight in shining armour?"

Veronica's eyes narrowed and her hair all but crackled with electricity. "That's not fair, Logan. Piz is a great guy ... Wait – " she inhaled deeply " – are you drunk?"

Logan batted the question away with his hand. "Sure. Piz is great. If you enjoy passionless sex—"

There was a second crack of sound but it took Logan's inebriated mind several long seconds to register that the noise had not come from the gods. His hand moved to his red hot cheek of its own volition. "My God, Veronica," he stammered. "I am so sorry. I don't know what I'm saying—"

Veronica shouted him down. "You knew exactly what you were saying." Her open palm was still raised before her. "For the record – " her hand clenched into a fist leaving one accusing finger pointed at his chest " – Piz has never hurt me, never made me cry so hard I thought I was going to die. Piz is the nicest, sweetest—"

"I'm sorry," cut in Logan. He had no desire to listen to Veronica list Piz's many virtues. "You're right. Piz is a great guy."

"The best." Suddenly completely deflated, Veronica's hand dropped to her side. "In fact he's pretty much perfect for me." A silent argument was playing out behind her eyes. Her voice dropped low. "Choosing him over you should be easy ... "

The words left unspoken rang loud in Logan's ears. Should be easy. He moved closer and took hold of her hands. Her skin was like ice to his touch. "Then choose me," he pleaded, seeking and finding her eyes. Rain drops clung to her lashes. "I told you once that it was better to suffer a little pain rather than a lot further down the road. Well shock horror, Veronica, I was wrong. That's the cowards way out, I can see that now. I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all.

"I'm not perfect, I know that, but what we have – " he lifted their conjoined hands to his chest " – is too important to walk away from."

Her brow knit tight, Veronica studied every inch of his rain soaked face. Time crawled. Though he was desperate for an answer, he could have equally lived in this moment for ever; deep down he feared that the hole in his soul would only grow deeper when next she spoke.

"Logan I ... " She pulled her hands from his gentle grip. "I ... I have to go," she concluded and made to sidestep around him.

Logan blocked her path. "Go? Go where? You can't ignore this – us – Veronica."

"I don't know. Away. As far away as possible. Maybe New York ... my internship," she clarified.

Logan's heart sank like a stone. He had hurt her so badly she was seriously considering leaving the state to get away from him. "You can't run away from this, Veronica," he pleaded. "We need to talk."

"And what could we say that we haven't said a thousand times before? We're done. It's time you accepted that."

Without another word, Veronica broke free of his invisible prison and swept round him. Logan twisted on his heel but did not pursue her retreating back; his heart seemed to have settled into his shoes, weighing them down.

She reached the curbstone before he could find his voice again. "Veronica!" She stopped. In all honesty, Logan hadn't expected that and as a result he had no words ready. As it turned out, they came easily enough: "Who's going to fix me now?"

For a long moment Logan thought she might just answer. Then, without so much as a backwards glance, she popped her collar and strode out across the street. Away from Neptune, away from California, away from him.

No, thought Logan piteously as he watched the storm swallow her retreating form. It never rains in California; it pours.

Fin

AN ~ Like I said, sorry for the angst. At least we know there's a happy ending for them both nine years down the line.

A nod to several songs that feature or inspired this story: It Never Rains In Southern California – Albert Hammond; Drown – Bring Me The Horizon.