Disclaimer: I don't own anything. And I promise, once I'm done playing with them, I'll put them back.

Chapter 4/6

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"Telling Logan"

At home, Veronica showered and dressed in her oldest pajamas. The pink flannel bottoms were so washed out and thin that Keith had tried to throw them away on more than one occasion. But, Veronica always managed to save them from the trash. She passed on his offer of Chinese, opting for a few slices of white American, a handful of green olives and a glass of diet orange soda.

Keith was worried, of course. She needed to eat something more substantial. But, he knew that to say so would only cause a fight. He'd wait until tomorrow to start harping on her. However, he did point out one thing that she'd neglected. "You haven't told anyone yet."

She sat up from her place on the couch and stared at him. She looked as though he'd just told Timothy McVeigh where they kept the matches and dynamite. He raised his hands in protest before adding, "Not that you have to. But, I've heard your phone buzzing nonstop. You're going to have to face them sooner or later."

She sighed and settled back into the cushions. She opened her mouth to respond, but was cut short by a hard rap at the door. Keith looked pointedly at her and rose to get the door.

Logan stood on the other side, his eyes wild and his hair disheveled like he'd been running his hands through it too much. "Where is she? Is she okay?" he asked, breathless. "I've been calling..." Keith stopped him and stepped back to show Veronica sitting on the couch.

When he made to come in, Keith put his hand on the doorjamb. "She's not..." he began, but was interrupted as Veronica joined him at the door.

She laid her hand on her dad's forearm. "You're right." Keith eased up and let Logan enter.

"I'll just be..." he gestured to his bedroom door. Veronica nodded and Keith left them alone in the living room.

Logan looked between his girlfriend and the door where Keith had just disappeared, worry replaced with confusion. "Please, Veronica, tell me what's going on," he pleaded.

She padded barefoot back to the couch and folded herself up on it, her knees to her chin. Logan started to pace.

"Please sit," she asked, finally breaking the silence.

He sat down on the edge of the armchair, frantically searching her face for answers, but coming up empty. "Please..." he began.

"My mother's dead."

Logan looked at his girlfriend agog. Of all the news he'd been waiting for, for all the worrying and searching he'd done since she hadn't returned his twelfth call, that came as a shock. A horrified "What?" was all he could muster.

"She, uh, she overdosed or something," she choked out. Her resolve was crumbling and Logan sank to the floor on his knees and pulled her close before he saw a tear fall. He held her, speechless, but full of questions. He just waited for her to talk.

The story tumbled out between protracted periods of gasping and crying. Logan sat quietly waiting for Veronica to fill in her own gaps. He wouldn't interrupt with his thoughts or questions. He just let the story happen while he stroked her arm, her fingers, her palm. And she cried. Horrible, body-wracking crying.

When she finally fell quiet, she laid her forehead against his. Her eyes were closed and her nose was stuffy, so she had to breath through her mouth in short little gasps. "And the worst part is," she whispered, "I don't feel as bad as I should."

Logan rocked back slightly, breaking contact and looking up into her eyes. They were watery blue, rimmed with red. Violently sad. "What do you mean? How are you supposed to feel?"

She settled back into the couch cushions and Logan joined her, still holding her hands in his.

She closed her eyes and kept them shut for a long time. He was beginning to think that she would not answer when she replied softly, "I'm not as upset as I should be."

As Logan opened his mouth to speak, she opened her eyes and stayed him with her hand. "It's crazy, but I don't. She's my mom, you know. But, more than anything, I'm just glad it's not my dad." She let go a little gasp before continuing. "It sounds terrible when I say it aloud. I loved her, I did. I do."

"Of course you do. There's no threshold for how much grief you're supposed to feel," Logan offered quietly.

Veronica nodded. "I know. But, it justs feels wrong. It feels cold."

Logan was unsure of how to answer, so he stayed silent. Veronica continued. "It's just that I was so angry with her, you know? She left me twice. The first time, I thought it was because she was protecting me and I forgave her. I thought that all I had to do was fix it and find out who killed Lilly and everything would be okay. But, the second time..." she trailed off and looked down at her fingers twined with his. "You understand, right?"

"I do. I loved my mom more than I loved anyone. She might have been the only person I ever really loved until you," he paused and cleared his throat before adding, "But, part of me felt betrayed."

Veronica nodded and laid her head on his shoulder. He gathered her close, unused to consoling her, but glad that he could. "Are you having a funeral?" he asked.

"No," came her small reply.

"Is there anything I can do for you right now?"

"Stay."

He nodded and held her tighter.

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A/N: Okay, really guys? Over 1000 hits and only one review? Is it really that bad?