DON'T WAKE ME WITH SO MUCH

Word Count: 3,166

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas owns all; I promise to put them back when I'm done.

AN: I had hoped to finish this before the premiere, but alas I could not. Feedback appreciated.

PART TWO:

On day 78, Logan is arrested.

He was in his usual spot when Zeus and Athena darted off and disappeared into the darkness. At the time he had thought rabbits. That is, until he heard the distinctive sound of a gun being drawn from its holster.

And before Logan could turn around and inform the intruder that a gun might be a little excessive under the circumstances, every outside light came on, lighting the grounds like a stage, and Logan is tackled to the ground. With an oomph, his face was pushed into the ground, his arms jerked behind his back.

He was pulled to his feet and shoved towards the front gate. It looked like the entire Neptune Sheriff Department was called out. Flashing lights casting the Kane house in shades of blue and red, like a kaleidoscope of shadows.

This, of course, was not the first time that the police had been called for a disturbance at the Kane house.

Logan was stopped short in front of the lead deputy. "Crockett?" Logan said. "You didn't have to go through all this trouble just to see li'l ol' me."

"Mr. Echolls. Somehow I'm not surprised," Leo said, then garbled something into the walkie-talkie on his shoulder. "Do you want to tell me what you're doing here, on private property?"

Another officer—was it Sachs? She would know—handed Leo Logan's personal effects—wallet, keys, flask.

"I'm going to need that back," Logan said, pointing to the flask.

Leo shrugged. "Okay, we'll play it that way." Leo eased Logan into the squad car, his hand squarely on Logan's head. It was the first kind touch in, well, 78 days, so he felt oddly comforted sitting in the back of the squad car. There was nothing to be done but sit back and listen to the radio—static with bursts of nonsensical codes, describing other people who were no doubt having worse nights than Logan.

Logan heard Leo order his minions to sweep the grounds. "I think I know what this is about," Leo said before shutting the door.

Lamb, of course, questioned him—or tried to. Logan wasn't saying a word. Even if he was in a cooperative mood, how could he even begin to answer his questions.

What was he doing at the Kane house?

Didn't he think the family had been through enough?

I don't know. Yes, they have been through enough.

When Logan didn't respond, Lamb leaned back in his chair, popping his gum. "Don't you want your phone call this time? Maybe see if your girlfriend will come to your rescue? Of course, maybe she's the one who called it in."

Logan smirked. "You're pretty smug for a guy who's about to be out of a job come November. Let an innocent man serve time for a crime he didn't commit while letting the murderer roam free." Logan tsks. "You were outsmarted by Nancy Drew, Sheriff. That's not something even the voters of Neptune forget."

Lamb leaned a little too far back in his chair, and he had to lurch forward to grab the table before he tipped back.

"Can I go back to my cell, now?" Logan asked.

Logan stretches on the cot in the holding cell. The single window in the cell casts a box of sunlight against Logan's legs. He stares at the vents in the ceiling, hands behind his head. He hums that Janice Joplin song—Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose. He should've thought of this before—jail. It's perfect. He has his meals—so far, breakfast—brought to him. No one bothers him, and even better—he is not required to make any decisions.

But what crime? Definitely something white collar. He is not a blue collar type of guy under any circumstances. Especially if it involves becoming some 250 pound guy named Maurice's bitch. He toys with identity theft—certainly a hot issue with law enforcement. Besides, his current identity wasn't working out so well—what with its penchant for dying women.

At the sound of the door opening, Logan says, "Is that the concierge, because I think I reserved a room with a separate bathroom."

"Duncan," Logan says. He sits up. Logan hasn't seen Duncan since the night of his surprise birthday party. Before things started to unravel.

"Hey," Duncan says. He shoves his hands in his pocket. He stays close to the door.

"You're back," Logan says.

"I just go back this morning. The gardener, Mr. Yoshimono, told me that they'd arrested someone for trespassing and drunken disorderly."

"They're dropping the disorderly part," Logan says. He moves slowly to the edge of the cell. "How are you?"

"What the hell's going on, Logan?" Duncan says.

"Just hanging out. How was San Diego?"

"That's it? That's all you're going to say?" Duncan asks.

"I finished that book for English. Finally. You know, that Hemingway book. About the guy who's been wounded in World War II. So he basically walks around Paris all the time and then the woman he loves shows up. But she's a total bitch and she's marrying some other dude. I kind of liked it. I could identify with the guy."

"Wasn't he, like, impotent or something. That's why she dumps him. It's supposed to be tragic." Duncan smiles. "Are you trying to tell me something, Logan?"

"Hardly," Logan smirks. "Are you springing me, or what?"

Logan can see Duncan's shoulders relax. There's a faint smile on Duncan's face. "They're putting the paperwork through. I got Celeste to agree not to press charges—but she's getting a little aggravated that she can't actually put someone in jail."

"You can thank me on the way home," Logan says.

Leo walks Logan out of the cell and through out-processing. Leo holds Logan by the arm firmly. "Try to stay out of trouble, Mr. Echolls," Leo says. "I don't want to see you here again."

"But I've grown accustomed to these little encounters with the fine officers of the Neptune Sheriff Department. What with the false arrests and bruises from the handcuffs. It's like coming home. I wouldn't miss it for the world," Logan says, as he flips through his wallet, visibly counting his cash, prior to putting his wallet back in his pocket.

Inside Duncan's car, Logan offers his flask to Duncan. "At least I still have some Jack left."

Duncan eyes Logan out of the corner of his eye. "I don't think so," Duncan says as he starts the car. "And maybe you should hold off."

Logan tips back the flask, squeezes his eyes shut as it burns his throat. "I'm touched, really," Logan says, patting his heart. "This just takes the edge off. And I wouldn't be so quick to judge, DK. You want to pop a few goofballs—got any on you?" Logan is surprised by his sudden anger.

Duncan doesn't respond immediately. "You should've told me," Duncan says.

"Told you what?" Logan says, but he knows exactly what Duncan's talking about.

"We're supposed to be friends," Duncan says.

"We are friends," Logan says. He feels desperation clawing at his throat. Logan wants to shake Duncan repeating 'Of course, we're friends. We'll always be friends.' Shake him then smash his face in. Duncan is a constant—but maybe too much has happened, too much has changed.

"Then you should've told me," Duncan says.

"When was I supposed to tell you, DK? When you were in Cuba? When you didn't tell anyone where you were? You were the one who ran away." Logan shifts in his seat. He's almost glad they are both restrained by their seatbelts inside the car. If they were out in the open, he's pretty sure there'd be some shoving. There's nothing like a punch to bring clarity to the situation—hitting and being hit. "Things got weird and like usual, you ran."

"Which is different from you how?" Duncan clenches the steering wheel. "I couldn't stay. I thought—I thought I hurt Lilly."

Logan exhales. "She would've helped you," he says quietly.

Duncan scoffs and finally looks at Logan. "You really believe that? If she had the proof, that I did anything, she would've turned me in. You think she singled you out? She only had, what do they call it—circumstantial evidence against me."

Logan narrows his eyes, trying to imagine her turning Duncan in. No, not her precious Duncan. She would've confronted him, she would've asked questions. She wouldn't have gone behind his back.

"Anyway, you broke the rule. The one rule. She was off limits to you," Duncan says, his voice losing conviction.

"This is what you want to talk about?" Logan asks incredulously.

Logan almost laughs. Out of all the things that they could be talking about, the injuries that Logan has inflicted on Duncan, Logan can't really believe that he wants to talk about her. She seemed the least of everything that had happened.

Duncan looks at Logan, as if there is nothing else to talk about. Logan smiles. Who can resist the generosity and innocence of Duncan Kane.

This opportunity to apologize is a gift. Logan can apologize for this. There's no way to apologize for the other. "I know. You're right," Logan says. "We—I didn't want you to find out that way, trust me. I was waiting to see what was going to happen. And as anyone could've predicted, nothing, nada, zilch." Logan sticks his finger in his cheek—pop! The lies roll of his tongue so easily. "I'm sorry, DK. Things were kind of messed up."

"Were?" Duncan asks, and then he laughs.

"Yeah, were. They're all better now," Logan says, and he can't help but laugh with him.

When they get to Duncan's street, Logan points out the Magnum. "Do I even want to know what happened to the X-terra?" Duncan says.

Logan gets out of the car. "Thanks for coming to get me, DK," Logan says. And, he's surprised to discover that he means it.

"You want to come in," Duncan says, tilting his head towards the house.

"No, man. I've got to—" Logan pauses. What exactly does he have to do? "I've got to get back."

Duncan nods. He does not question Logan. "Maybe we can hang out sometime. You know, before school starts."

School. Oh, Fuck. He is going to have to walk down the halls and remember his locker combination and sit in calculus, learning about the functions of X and Y and try to figure out how those crazy kids were going to work it out and finally get together.

"Have your assistant call my assistant. I'm sure I can pencil you in—maybe between tennis and a manicure." He blows on his nails.

"What are you going to do?" Duncan finally asks.

"I don't know. Go home, celebrate my freedom." Logan waves his flask. "I know why the caged bird sings." Which isn't what Duncan is asking, but it's an answer that he can give.

Duncan looks at him. It's an I-know-you-better-than-that look. Duncan is still one of the few people that can use it. But they don't really know each other anymore. And Logan's not sure who he is—if he's not Duncan's best friend.

"Hey, DK?" Logan asks. "Would you have thought that I did it? Honestly?" Logan immediately regrets asking, because he doesn't really want to know the answer.

Duncan pauses. "Do you want the truth?"

Logan thinks for a moment. Logan shakes his head. "Lie to me," he says.

"No, I didn't think you did it," Duncan says. He smiles at Logan, sadly, and pulls into the drive.

Logan nods. After the Koontz alibi materialized, Logan had thought Duncan capable—or at least his epilepsy made him capable. With friends like these, he thought.

Logan looks at Duncan's house. It looks so different in the daylight. Like any other house on this street—all glass and sharp angles. It looks like a house where nothing terrible could happen and monsters stayed hidden in closets. Monsters certainly didn't get invited to go upstate for the yearly crush.

The house didn't hold any secrets. It is just a house. The Kanes are just a family whose wealth could not protect them. There is nothing to be learned, no mystery to solve. Not simple. Not complicated. Just.

The cover of Variety announces that United Artists is in development talks with Wolfgang Peterson to direct the Lilly Kane story—which is what the trades started calling it. Although it's not really her story anymore. She won't even survive the first act. She won't be played by a start.

Sarah Michelle Gellar is currently in discussions to play the lead role. Logan tries to imagine who will play his role. Probably that whiny Dawson kid. Logan imagines the end of the movie, the part where they tell what happens next to the key players:

Aaron Echolls was sentenced to life in prison without parole. He is currently appealing the verdict.

Veronica Mars is currently at UCLA studying journalism.

Logan Echolls….

The past was too heavy. He could not even imagine his future. Exhaustion crashes over him. He can barely keep his eyes open.

Logan passes Mrs. Navarro on the landing of the stairs.

"I saw you on the news," Mrs. Navarro says to him.

Logan nods his head. He's not surprised.

"You in trouble?" she asks. When Logan shakes his head, she continues. "You and Eli—you are much the same."

Logan smiles. "I wouldn't say that out loud around too many people, particularly Eli, Mrs. Navarro. It's liable to rub him the wrong way."

"His padre—his father is not good," she says, shaking her head. "I bring up sandwich." She pats Logan's arm.

Logan shuffles down the hall to his bedroom. He didn't want to think about how much he was like Weevil. As if things were bad enough. He shakes his head; he'll take a shower and then sleep, hopefully forever.

He pauses in front of his father's office. He has not been in this room since Day 1. He's been hiding from this room. He opens the door slowly, not sure what to expect. This way there be monsters.

His father's face is everywhere in the room. A shrine to his fame. His face is huge and floats against black in the movie posters around the room. A framed People proclaiming him the Sexiest Man Alive. On the mantel, the awards: People's Choice Awards, Blockbuster Awards, even an Emmy for his guest appearance on The Practice as a man (an innocent man) who was on trial for the murder of his wife. There's even a Best Dressed Award in the shape of a coat hanger. His action figure from Beyond the Breaking Point with kung fu grip and rocket launcher.

He runs his fingers along the bookcase—DVDs and VHS tapes chronicling Aaron's entire film career. Copies of his television appearances, including the one where he played Ping Pong with Rosie O'Donnell—he let her win. There's even a copy (it's out of print, now) of the only Western he did—Six Guns at Sunrise. It was one of his first roles. He played an unscrupulous deputy who was killed in the first act by the hero.

Logan pulls out the DVD of Breaking Point. 'A man can only bend so far….' His heart pounds, and his fingers fumble with the case.

He repeats to himself: I'm not strong, I'm not brave. I'm not ready. I can't handle this. Like a mantra, over and over again.

He inserts the disk into the player. He crouches in front of the TV, pulling his knees to his chest.

Breaking Point was one of Aaron's first blockbuster movies. It was the first time he opened a movie, as they say, on his own. As the credits roll, Aaron runs down a street. It's unclear whether he's being chased or doing the chasing. His arms slice through the air and his strides are long. As the camera pans in closer, he shouts, "Stop, police!" He pauses to draw his gun. He gets off one shot, before taking off again. "That never works," he mumbles before running after the bad guy.

He's so young. His face smooth; his hair dark and cut short. Boyish.

The next scene has Aaron bringing in the bad guy into the police station. He jokes with his fellow officers. There's some backslapping until the camera finally finds the partner. The partner with the family and a baby on the way. The partner who always wants to call in back-up while Aaron wants to charge ahead—procedure and red tape be damned.

The audience learns that Aaron is a hot-shot cop. A good man who doesn't have time for procedure or bureaucracy. In short, a hero.

The partner, of course, is doomed. But then without the death, Aaron would never reach the Breaking Point.

Aaron and his partner are driving in the squad car. Logan drinks the last of the Jack. But's not going to work this time. He starts to rock back and forth.

And for the first time, Logan thinks about his father and Lilly. About how his father, without a second thought, had bashed in the skull of this reckless, foolish girl. And then wiped off the ashtray and walked away. Deliberate. Cruel. A cruelty that Logan had thought could only be directed towards him.

Logan falls forward, his fingers clutching the carpet. The carpet is soft and smooth, like sand. He squeezes his eyes shut. He is not strong enough for this.

He's not strong or brave, he thinks, but he cannot stop this now. He thinks about her. Veronica. How his father flung his tiny, brave girl into a freezer. And then set it on fire. Veronica, scared and crying for help as the smoke filled the freezer. He can almost hear her cries.

Veronica, Veronica, Veronica.

Beautiful, brave Veronica. How scared she must've been.

On screen, during the funeral of the partner, Aaron comforts the wife and tells her that he'll find out who did this, Logan realizes he's crying. And there's a sound, a keening sound. At first he thinks that the sound is from the movie, but it's him. It is the sound of loss—a moan, a sob, a wail. An expulsion, a letting go--like the moment when he stands on the surfboard and glides on the wave. Like falling.

His father's voice in a sultry whisper. Vowing vengeance for his partner's death. His father's voice is promising justice, no matter what the cost.

The sobs wrack through him. There's a part of him, the part of him that's still a boy who doesn't understand that fathers aren't supposed to hit their sons, who wants more than anything for him to come home. Because, despite everything, he loves his father.

TO BE CONTINUED