A/N: Took me a while, I know. Sorry. This chapter brought to you by the kind beta-ing skills of Iceworm- thank you muchly. Thanks also to all my reviewers- bunnyangel, this is the one where Logan reminds us all he's no martyred saint- he's a spoiled kid, despite everything.
They still don't belong to me. Sigh.
Veronica's car is parked behind the house, as close to his entrance as a car can get Logan spares a
moment to wonder how she got that far. It doesn't really matter. It's nearly 2 am and he can still hear the distant voices of several vigilant reporters. Veronica opens the driver's door, and gestures to the car. "Just…as an added precaution, why don't you stay in the back, and sort of flatten yourself out ? They won't see you. I can even cover you up a bit."
He knows that it's not just about not being seen. Lying flat would be a lot less painful, and her eyes show she's thought of that. He doesn't want to feel grateful that she's helping him save face. He doesn't want to feel grateful in general. He hates that she knows, that she's seen him this helpless-broken. He hates that a part of him is glad she knows, because now he doesn't have to hide it anymore, even if most of him wants to pretend it never happens. Logan is…confused. He's not used to this kind of conflict. He doesn't think about these things normally. But nothing's normal now. Silently, he scrunches himself down into the back seat, and she covers him with some sort of blanket. The seat smells like dust and dog and air freshener- the kind that never gets anything fresher. He's not going to be sick. He's ok. It's not far to Veronica's.
"We're past the gates, you're safe." Veronica means every word of that. Breathing a silent sigh of relief that phase one of her improvised rescue operation has gone successfully, she hears him let out an explosive breath and wonder whether he's been holding his too. He doesn't sit up, and she doesn't comment. She's not sure what to do next. Her hasty promise not to tell anybody feels like complete idiocy now. She can't not do something about it. It's bad and wrong and twisted and- Logan's her friend. She wouldn't wish those kinds of marks on her worst enemy. Which, come to think of it, Logan was up until what, three weeks ago? This is very strange. She's not even entirely certain why she's doing this, still. But she's taking him out of that place others call his home. And she'd do something about this situation, even if it's only giving him someone else he can call and talk to about it when it happens again. The fact that she's not thinking in terms of 'if' disgusts her.
"Want me to call Duncan?" She asks, trying to sound casual, certain of herself. He reads her too well, sometimes.
"Why?" He sounds tired, flat, bitter. Not like himself at all. It scares her a little. "So he can be angry with me too?"
"Angry?" That's a surprise. "Why angry?"
"First." She can hear him shifting in the back, and a stifled hiss of pain, "because it's about, what, 2 o'clock? And we all have stuff to do tomorrow? And, because he's always angry."
"About what?" Amazing that he keeps answering. Why would Duncan be angry, rather than sympathetic?
"The world?" Logan's answer sounds more like a question. Duncan's always angry when this happens, and Logan's never sure at what or at whom. He knows Duncan hates Aaron- that's never been in doubt. But as they both got older, he felt like Duncan was getting angry with him, as well. Every time it happened the questions repeated. What happens next time? When is it gonna end? Why don't you do something about it, Logan? Or maybe it's just the exasperated silence, the 'I don't even know what to do about you, you're hopeless, I've given up' look on his face, that makes him feel like he'd somehow failed his friend, not just his father or himself. Logan understands Duncan, but Duncan doesn't understand him. Duncan's still the child ready to take on the world. He doesn't understand that a single whisper could topple the fragile life he's built, on lies and pretence and hope. "Me? Himself, my dad, I don't know." He closes his eyes. "Don't wake him up."
"Okay." She agrees quietly. She doesn't want to argue. She'll call Duncan as soon as it's humanly polite to do it (like, in three or four hours, maybe) and yell at him, really loudly, and for a long time, until he got his head out of his ass. Then, maybe, she'll ask him over.
The rest of the drive passes in silence. He's busy thinking, and she doesn't want to disturb him. He refuses her help getting out of the car, which cheers her up for a moment. Her cheerfulness lasts exactly as long as it takes to get into the apartment complex and within sight of her apartment.
"Crap." There's a light on in the living room.
"What's wrong?"
"I think my dad's discovered I didn't come home earlier." She bites her lip. "Don't worry, I'll explain. Just…you keep quiet, okay?" She gives him a slightly worried look. Not that her dad would be that upset over a friend-related emergency, but she doesn't know how much he'll demand to be told, when it involves bringing a guy home to sleep. And she knows she can't really tell him anything without Logan's permission. And the chances of that happening? Slim to none. Logan gives her the pleading, kicked-puppy look that no female can resist.
"Don't tell him, Ronnie. Please?"
"He's a private detective and an ex-cop, Logan." She explains gently, "I doubt I'll need to tell him anything. But I won't. I promised I wouldn't tell anybody, and that goes for my dad as well."
"Okay." He nods hesitantly. She wonders again where the real Logan is and who's that scared kid walking besides her. She knows they're the same guy, but it's still eerie.
She opens the door carefully, and sees her dad waiting in his customary spot, reading a book. He lifts his head when she enters, waiting to see her guilty look and listen to stuttered explanations, but she provides neither. Instead, she steps aside and practically drags Logan through the door. "Hey dad."
Keith is about to say something sarcastic and cutting, possibly ending in his daughter's grounding, but then he realizes who his daughter brought home with her, and raises an eyebrow instead. "Veronica. Logan- long time no see."
"Yeah." She agrees. They both look like crap, the children. Veronica red eyed and tense, Logan…like one of the bail-jumper he picks up sometimes when they realize their short reprieve is over. Interesting. He hasn't seen him in over a year, especially not with Veronica. In fact, he's spent whole evenings listening to her rant about what a jerk he was. So what was he doing in their home? "Listen, dad, can the explanations wait five minutes? And can Logan crash here tonight?"
Now he's really interested, enough to put the book down and stand up. "Why would he want to? I thought you two weren't even on speaking terms." But he can guess, with everything that's been going on in the Echolls home. He feels for Logan, and he's smart enough to know his daughter would identify with his trouble. Once again he wonders what he'd done to the universe to deserve all that had happened to his family.
"Dad, please." Her eyes plead with him not to ask yet. Logan doesn't even look at him. He's staring at the floor, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. He's miles away. Okay, so maybe the explanations really can wait
"He can stay, sure." A moment of wordless communication passes between father and daughter, and Keith ends it by jerking his head towards her room. It's a precedent he may regret setting, but he has a feeling they'd need the couch. Her look of gratitude almost melts his cold, cynical heart. She cares too much- more than he does. But she's young yet. Maybe she still has a chance to keep caring, if she doesn't get burned too badly. She nods and takes Logan's arm, steering him towards her room. Finally, he raises his head and flashes Keith a shadow of the smile he remembers from last year, when the kids hung out together almost constantly, before Lilly died.
"Thanks. Mr. Mars." And he means it, too.
"Sure, Logan." Keith nods, not smiling at all. Now he's worried more than intrigued.
Veronica takes Logan into her room. A million possible quips about not taking advantage fly through her head, but not one of them makes it out. They all seem so…inappropriate, just now. Still, she's glad she cleaned her room today. No embarrassing bits of underwear tossed around. "Come on." she says quietly. "Just…lie down for a moment, I'll explain stuff to my dad and be right back. Want something to drink?"
"Scotch?" He suggests. Kicking off his shoes, he stretches out, face down, bouncing slightly. Water bed. Who'd have thought it. He hears her snort behind him.
"Yeah, right. I'll being you a coke."
"Coke would be nice." He's not really concentrating anymore. But yeah, drugs would help. Take away the pain. No. He can't. That's what finished his mom off, alcohol and pills. Wasn't what ultimately did it, but it killed her as surely as whatever else she'd done. He has very little hope left. He doesn't comment, joke, anything he knows she thinks he'd do. He doesn't have the energy. It's very hard to think about anything that doesn't immediately lead to his mother or other places too painful for him to go to yet.
"I'll be back." She half expects him to be asleep by the time she returns. Closing the door behind her, she returns to the living room, where Keith hasn't moved yet. Wordlessly, she hugs him as hard as she can, and suddenly she's crying, sobbing helplessly into his shirt, letting out the anger, misery and worry in a short, violent burst of emotion. Worried, he holds her, making soothing noises.
"Oh, Veronica…what's wrong, honey?"
"N-nothing." She pulls back and sniffs hard, trying to stop the tears. She hugs him again, "Just…I love you- a lot. And I'm glad you're my dad and I wouldn't want anybody else, okay?"
"Um, thanks." he says, surprised and touched and still worried. "C'mon." He leads her to the couch, still holding her, because she's still sniffling, and sits them both down. "Now, tell me what's wrong? What happened to Logan?"
She makes a sound somewhere between a sob and a snort. "His mom died." She sniffs again and goes on in a steadier voice. "He- he didn't believe she was dead. And he asked me to find her, he thought she'd just run away or something. And I did." She outlines, very briefly everything that happened, including the video. "And then I got tapped for her credit card, he was so happy, dad…But it was just a blip, a ghost, no one really used it. And…it hit him pretty hard. He had to get outta the house, so…I brought him here." She shrugs. There's nothing more she can explain, and she hopes to hell it's enough for him.
To her surprise, Keith nods, looking rather upset as well. "Veronica…I warned you about helping friends out, getting too close to your cases, and giving people false hope." he says reproachfully. She nods miserably feeling about an inch tall. "But it was nice of you to help him all the same. I'm sorry it didn't work out, honey." He's sorry for more than that- Lynn had been a good friend since they'd been in high school. "It was a good try, but…sometimes it's best not to hope, especially if they've already had the memorial service and declared her officially dead." He knows there's more to the story, but he's made a career out of reading people, and he can read his daughter better than most, so he doesn't press. It's a clear case of 'ask no questions, be told no lies', and he taught her that one.
"I know, dad…but he wanted to try, and he was- he is a friend." And if she could find his mom, with all the evidence pointing against it, then there's still a chance she can find her own somewhere out there. She knows Lianne isn't dead, at least. Logan doesn't have that luxury anymore. "He's just gonna crash here tonight, ok? We'll see about tomorrow…when we get there." Just as long as he doesn't ask.
"That's fine, Veronica." He kisses her forehead lightly, and she pulls away with teenaged indignation. "As long as he's in your bed, you're on the couch, young lady." He waves a warning finger, breaking the tension, "If there's a man in your bed, you'd better not be there as well. Got that?"
"Aye aye, dad." She mock-salutes, smiling, but the worry's still there. He'd figure it out eventually, she knows. "I'll just go make sure he's ok. And then…" She glances at the clock, he follows her eyes. Nearly 3 am. "We should go to sleep, shouldn't we?"
"I'd say so, yeah." He nods. "I'm gonna get to bed. See you in the morning."
"Goodnight, dad." Her smile is strained and sad. She doesn't look like his little girl anymore, and he hurts for her, for himself, and for her mother, who won't know her, if and when she gets back. But he's a cynical old man, so he pushes down the hurt and goes to bed, wondering what the morning will bring.
Logan's half asleep when Veronica returns to her room carrying two cans of coke. He waves her off, turning his face to the wall, and she shrugs philosophically. "I'll be outside. See you in the morning." He mumbles something into the pillow, and she wants to warn him about his life expectancy should she find any suspicious stains, but doesn't have the heart to. She leaves the can on her bedside table. A spare blanket from her closet joins the throw pillows on the couch, and she curls up on the couch
A high-pitched but definitely male shriek wakes her up and she falls of the couch with a thud of panic. The shriek is followed by a torrent of inventive cursing, some words of which even she didn't know. Logan stomps into the living room, clad only in one of her fluffy blue towels and a furious glower. Wait- Logan, living room, towel? The hell? Oh. Right. Logan in her living room is okay. Logan in a towel, however, puzzles her a bit. She pulls herself up and faces him, one eyebrow raised, until he stops to take a breath. "Good morning to you too, Mr. Sunshine."
"Fuck off, Mars." His voice is harsh again, tight with anger, his face flushed. Logan isn't a morning person on the best of days, and today's far from the best. Waking up had been a shock, of strange bed that smelled like a girl, sore head and sore everything else. Now that he knows what he's doing here, he also remembers why, and he's even less happy. She takes in his appearance again, notices drops of water beaded on his face, hair and chest, and can't help a grin.
"You tried to take a shower, right?" She shouldn't find it so funny. It's petty and mean. But Logan Echolls has never lived on this side of town and his introduction to the wonders of cold water in the morning is just too perfect. She knows she sounds disgustingly perky, all things considered. "Hot water's a bit slow in the morning. Wait for it long enough, it'll come."
"I said, fuck off." He grates. How dare she laugh at him? Suddenly he remembers the whole damn thing is her fault and wonders what possessed him to let her help. He's tense, cold, and feels in danger somehow.
"Language, young m-" An older male voice behind him starts talking, then sucks in his breath sharply. Now he remembers where the danger is. The anger disappears from his face. Horror and shame replace it. Without another word he spins around, marches past Keith without looking in his direction at all, back into Veronica's room, and slams the door hard.
Veronica watches in horrified silence as her father looks at her closed door, then back at her, comprehension and more questions clear on his face. For once, the ever-prepared Veronica is caught at a loss, speechless and helpless. "Please don't ask me, dad." she begs, quietly, shaking her head. "I- I promised I wouldn't." It's not her story to tell. As much as she wants to drop it all in her father's lap and let him make it all better, she knows she can't. He nods, very slowly.
"Later?"
"Maybe." She can't promise anything until she talks to Logan, and somehow she thinks he won't be in a talking mood right now. "I'm gonna…call Duncan." It's something to do, a part of her plan. Plans make her feel safer. Duncan would possibly know how to handle Logan. She sure doesn't, and she hates the helplessness. Keith nods.
"Ok. I'm going to the office." He's clearing out the house for her, and she's grateful. "I'll be there or on my cell if you need anything. Call me, Veronica. Just to let me know. Okay?"
"Yeah." She agrees. He leaves, and she picks up the phone and dials the number she's never bothered to erase from her memory.
"Duncan? Could you…come over?"
