Unexpected Ali

Rating: Pg-13 to be safe, but there nothing too graphic here.
Disclaimer: I own Nothing. Please don't sue me.
Summery: Sometimes the truth only shows itself when it's ready, despite how obvious it should have been.

Authors note: I know this has been done already but I though why not, might as well give it a try myself. This is my first Veronica Mars fic, but not my first fic in general. I hope you like it. Feel free to post comments, criticisms, or anything else. I crave feedback like a kitty craves catnip.

There are some things you never expect to see. The kind of things that are so foreign to you that they'd have to smack you upside the head to make you to notice at all. But when you finally do see them, when the little secrets tucked away in someone's soul make themselves know to you it has to be for a reason and it's not something you can turn away from.

Veronica sighed as she muted the Tonight Show and glared at the door as it rattled with each new knock. This had better be important enough to tear her way from a night of calorie loaded ice cream and the DVD of "Troy".

She looked through the peephole, frowning slightly before opening the door. She didn't know what to make of the sight in front of her. If it wasn't for the pained look on his face she would have thought it was a prank.

She ushered him in silently, locking the door behind them. He stood in the middle of the room, looking around aimlessly, seeming to be unsure of whether to sit or leave.

"Logan, what happened?" The look on his face told her not to go there, but the rest of him was contradicting Arms wrapped around himself he rocked slightly back and forth on his heels.

"Come on, sit down." She motioned to the sofa and he gladly followed her, grateful he didn't have to make the decision on what to do next.

"I didn't know where else to go, I couldn't stay there"

She paused for a moment, her eyes raking over his body, the blood seeping through his shirt and the angry cut on his lip making her want to vomit. Someone did this to him. Someone hurt him badly enough that he would come here, to her. That thought alone made her shudder.

"Logan you're bleeding. Let's get you cleaned up okay?" She reached out causing him to flinch and bolt backward.

"Don't touch me! Who the hell do you think you are? I didn't come here so you could get off on playing nursemaid."

He was almost flat against the back of the sofa, eyes wide as he stared at her, daring her to make a move. He reminded her of a wild animal caught in a trap. Desperate for help, but at the same time willing to bite if you came to close. Had they been in any other situation the thought that he was afraid of her would have sent her into a giggling fit.

"Okay" she held her hands up slightly for a second and that seemed to ease the fear out of his eyes.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what happened."

He glared at her again. "You can't help. This isn't something you can just kiss and make better, Veronica. I'm not one of your pet projects."

"I think you underestimate me. I have my wicked ways, Logan. I can help if you let me." She said softly, leaning a little closer to him and letting out a relived breath when he didn't move away.

"It was you father wasn't it?" He sighed, running his hand through his hair, obviously struggling with some misplaced loyalty before nodding.

"My drunken escapade at the dance ended up on the front page of the Enquirer. That didn't go over so well. I...I thought he was gonna kill me." The tears were back now threatening to spill over and ruin his tough facade. She wanted so badly to hold him and promise that this was the last time, that he'd never be hurt again, that she'd protect him. But despite the tears he was still defensive, ready to attack if she pushed him, so she kept her hands to herself and waited.

"Hey, you're gonna bleed all over my sofa if you don't let me clean those up." She said softly, leaning down slightly to catch his eyes with her own. "You know I won't hurt you, you wouldn't have come if you didn't."

Veronica stood up and extended her hand, hoping that he would take it and letting out a relived half smile when he did. She led him to the bathroom where he promptly sat down on the toilet seat facing the wall. He was silent, he didn't look at her and when she lifted his shirt she was grateful that he couldn't see her face.

There were so many scars, and too many fresh wounds. This didn't happen to people she knew. Sure folks got murdered, raped and blackmailed but they didn't get beaten to a pulp by their own family. That only happened on Lifetime Movies and bad Law and Order episodes, not here.

"I'm so sorry" her voice barely above a whisper. They say hindsight is 20/20 and that couldn't have been truer then at that moment. All those times she should have noticed, should have seen it were all to obvious now. She was a PI dammit, she knew how to detect subtle clues. But this isn't something you ever expect to see and certainly not something you look for.

"Don't be. You didn't do it." his voice was shaky as she applied peroxide to his wounds. His arms were crossed on the back of the toilet and he rested his head on them, willing himself not to cry again.

Ten minutes later she was finished, running a hand softly through his hair before speaking. "This wasn't your fault you know."

He snorted at her, not bothering to move. "Of course it was. If I'd learn to behave myself like a proper young man then I'd be just peachy." His voice was dripping with sarcasm but part of her knew that he actually believed it, that somehow his father had managed to shift the blame onto him.

"Logan, look at me." she ran a hand over his hair, leaving it to rest on the back of his neck as he turned to face her. She saw the tears sliding down his face and within a split second the act was gone and he was resting his head against her stomach, sobbing as he wrapped his arms around her waist and held on as if she would disappear at any moment.

She let him cry, whispering words of reassurance as she rubbed circles on the back of his neck, careful not agitate any of the sensitive areas. It should have been awkward, they could barely stand each other just a few days before, but somehow it wasn't. It felt right, which in itself was a thought she didn't feel like analyzing.

"You did not deserve this. No one deserves this. I don't care if you were dancing the hula naked on Main street and it somehow made it's way into every newspaper, that's no reason for him to hurt you like this. He has no right."

He looked up at her, smirking slightly at the description before nodding. "I'll remember that next time I decide to streak through the neighborhood."

She smirked back at him, glad for the snark that lightened the mood. "I don't want you going back there for a while. You can stay here until we get this sorted out."

We. It had been a long time since he had someone on his side, willing to fight for him, and the determination in her eyes made him believe that if there was anyone who could make this time the last time, it was her.