a/n: Let there be secrets revealed.

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"Well I'm going out on a date," Mac says from the doorway, her hand playing with the strap of her bag as if nervous her roommate is going to grill her for details. Veronica, however, barely glances up.

"Have fun. Should I expect you back tonight?" she asks, scratching in another note on the page devoted to 'useless Lily Kane trivia', still trying to figure out who her mysterious lover was. Madison had said she had just come back from meeting him. That person could potentially know something – or could also know nothing. There was something about it though – call it a gut feeling – that made her sure that this mysterious lover held the key to everything. That he was the one who would help her figure this out.

"Veronica, are you even listening?" Mac asks impatiently from the doorway.

"Yes," Veronica answers without really thinking, and Mac sighs.

"I won't be back until tomorrow," her roommate repeats, and with that she leaves. Veronica stares back down at her paper, absently doodling a lily flower in the margins as she mentally runs through the list of main suspects again.

The door slides open and Veronica is expecting it to be Mac, come back for her keys or something, but the groan of "Ronnie," makes her head flick up.

"Logan?" she asks, sliding the notebook shut and standing up. As soon as she gets a good look at him however, she wishes that she had kept looking at the bed, the floor, anything else.

The image in front of her shouldn't alarm her, she knows that. Logan is leaning against the door, his eyes shut, almost like he's just really tired. There's something though (Maybe it's her newfound closeness to Logan) that's just entirely wrong about the way he's leaning against the door, like the fight has been drained out of him and he's in so much pain.

"Ronnie," Logan repeats, his brown eyes sliding open. They're glistening with tears, and that's when she really knows that something's seriously wrong. His voice sounds hollow, like it's Halloween and he's a Logan jack'o lantern that's had its innards scraped clean.

"Logan what's wrong?" she demands, her voice shaking slightly as she steps a wary step towards him, like he's a frightened animal she's just hit with her car. He suddenly looks scared, like he's doubting every single decision he's made that led him to this moment, right here.

"I should –" he reaches for the doorknob behind him (he must have shut the door when she wasn't looking) like he's going to leave. Veronica steps forward, and wraps her hand around his wrist, anchoring him here.

"You aren't going to do that to me right now Logan," Veronica says, her voice serious, "Don't even think about it."

He shakes his head like he's trying to clear water from his ears, and when he speaks again it sounds like he's on the verge of tears. "I didn't have anywhere else to go."

"What happened?"

"My Dad found out we've been investigating," Logan says, "Well that I've been investigating again."

"Did he kick you out?" while that doesn't explain why he's in so much pain; it's the only logical explanation Veronica's mind can form.

"No," Logan chokes out, "Well…sort of. I don't know but I needed to get these treated and I can't go to the hospital and I can't reach and you're the only person who—"

Veronica raises one hand, cutting hi off mid-ramblings. "Slow down," she instructs, "What are you talking about?"

He lowers his hands to the edges of his T-shirt, shrugging out of his jacket. It hits the floor in a pool of fabric as he begins to lift the shirt over his head; small gasps escaping from his mouth as he does so. He's gotten it about halfway off when Veronica thinks to say something.

"Logan—" she begins in a nervous voice, wondering why the hell he's taking off his shirt in her room.

Logan merely smiles, a sad little broken smile and says, "Didn't you want to know my secret Ronnie?" and he brutally yanks the rest of the shirt off his head.

She gasps in horror. It's true she's always wondered what his secret was, but she never imagined it to be like this. His whole chest, back and arms are covered with scars, burns, and bloody lacerations. It's like something from a newscast, the kind you see everyday, the ones that are so horrible they almost look fictional, unreachable they don't touch you – but this is horribly real and horribly right in front of her. She recognizes cigarette burns on his arms, the marks from a belt buckle on his back, even a cigar-shaped burn on his stomach. Those are all fresh, bleeding, filling the room with the smell of burnt skin, but there are other marks. Silvery pale scars against his perpetually tan skin. Scars that speak of years of abuse, not this one time.

The words My Dad found out we'd been investigating run through Veronica's head on an endless loop, the realization of who has done this to Logan, to her good, honest to god Logan, who has been doing this to him, strikes her at that moment.

"Oh my god," she whispers, her hand moving to cover her mouth. Logan turns to look at her, his head bowed in shame like it's his fault for being like this. Like any of this is his fault. A cycle of images parades through Veronica's mind like pictures on a slideshow. Logan, wearing long sleeves and jeans even when it was hot outside and they were on the beach. Logan loving to surf but never unzipping his wetsuit to the waist like everyone else did. Madison Sinclair looking surprised he had a girlfriend, someone who he might potentially take his shirt off for – at all. Logan telling her how only he could be punished for this. LoganLoganLogan.

"How long has this been going on?" she finally asks, finding her voice at last.

"As long as I can remember," Logan says softly, "But it got worse after my Mom died. At first he tried to become the family man but I wasn't buying it so he took to beating me even harder instead. For everything, for nothing, because I took a piece of gum without permission, because I blew my nose to loudly – you name it."

Veronica takes a deep steadying breath, and then pulls a First Aide kit out from under bed, suddenly grateful that her Dad has insisted that she take this extra large one with her to college.

"Sit down," her voice is tight, controlled. She gestures towards the bed with a tight motion, trying not to cry. He wouldn't appreciate her tears. Logan moves slowly, hitting her bed with a groan of pain. Veronica opens the first aide kit, pulling out bandages, bottles of disinfectant, towels, and burn salve. "I'm guessing tonight was worse than normal?" she asks, trying to sound like they're talking about baseball instead of his Dad's abuse, but fails epically.

Logan surprises her when he starts to cry, silently, big fat tears dripping down his nose. "Oh Logan," she whispers, moving so her face was facing his. She bent down before him on the bed and then took him into her arms, mindful of the places where he's freshly injured. He presses his face into her shoulder, his mouth brushing against the delicate skin on the side of her neck. She can feel his tears soaking her shirt but only holds him closer.

"Why me Ronnie?" he asks, his lips quivering against her skin. "Why does all this happen to me?"

Veronica presses a kiss to his hair and just holds him. She doesn't have an answer for his question. How can you tell someone who's been abused by his Father all his life, who's Mother committed suicide and left him alone, who's girlfriend cheated on him and was murdered, who's been called crazy and a jackass and delusional. How can you tell them why this all has happened to them? How can you have an answer for someone who has nothing left to live for but keeps on going anyways?

He's the one who pulls away in the end, and she takes place behind him, preparing to treat his injuries.

"This is going to sting," she tells him, dumping a portion of the disinfectant on a towel and lifting it to one of the bloody lacerations. Logan doesn't make a sound as she gently brushes at the wound, cleaning away the blood slowly but surely.

They don't say a word, but are stuck in some weird bizarre silence – the abused boy and the girl he's come to for help. There are no words that can be exchanged to fix this, to make this better. There are only the gentle swipes of the towel, and their chests which both pump up and down like they've been running for miles. Veronica's keeping her mind totally focused on treating Logan's wounds, because it's the only thing stopping her from driving to Logan's house and taking a crowbar to Aaron Echolls' face. Who could do this to their own flesh and blood? Who could willingly hurt someone because they were just unlucky enough to be there?

It's only after she applies the last bandage do her emotions start to take over. She stands up, hands shaking.

"He's going to pay," she hisses, "I'm going to make him pay."

"No Ronnie, you can't," he says quickly, and grabs her arm and yanks her back down onto the bed so she's sitting next to him again. "You can't," he repeats.

"Logan we can't let this continue," Veronica says seriously, "Why are you still with him anyways? He's going to kill you!"

"I can't leave," Logan whispers, "I don't know how he did it, but he paid off a judge or a lawyer or someone – and said I was too traumatized by my Mother's death to be living on my own. He said I wasn't fit to take care of myself, and they listened."

Veronica can feel her every belief about the legal system crashing down as she looks him in the eyes, "You legally can't leave? Then why not take your abuse to the police or something."

"He'll just pay them off in some way," Logan says miserably, "When I was eighteen I tried to call the cops on him – that's why I have contacts inside the police station. The officer that came couldn't do anything because my Dad threatened him, but he said if I needed any other favors I could come to him."

"We could get your custody transferred to someone else," Veronica starts, brow furrowing, "Or do something that makes it seem like you're fit to take care of yourself."

Logan smiles weakly, "Nice try Ronnie," he says, shaking his head. "But I've already tried everything. The only way to get out of it is to get married or engaged or something – and I quite honestly don't think anyone would want to marry this," he points to himself.

"We could do it," she says quickly before she can think, and he looks at her in surprise.

"We could do what?"

"Pretend to be engaged," Veronica says, "At least to the court and your Father. That will buy us some time to get you out of there."

"You'd really do that for me?" she knows it's serious when Logan doesn't even try to protest, just looks at her with big hopeful eyes.

"Just because we can't send the bastard to jail yet, and I will send him to jail someday, but the first step is getting you away from there."

Logan's brown eyes melt into her's, hopeful and sad and happiness all blended into one color. Her mouth opens to say something else, but then it goes blissfully blank.

She doesn't know who leans forward first, she doesn't know who starts it, but suddenly they're kissing and it's like breathing fresh air. He tastes like tears and blood, but his mouth is heard against her's, yearning, searching for something. She loops her arms around his shoulder's like it's reflex, and his hands start rubbing along the line of her spine. He's still shirtless and she runs her fingers over his scarred muscles, not breaking for air. Somehow they ease backwards onto the bed, his body resting gingerly on top of her's, like he's scared he's going to hurt her. She isn't in the mood for cautious though, and she yanks him down, her lips caressing his. She's never kissed anyone like this before – and it feels so right. It feels like her entire soul is blending into his in a perfect resonance – and she doesn't want it to stop.

Of course, right when Logan's hands start playing with the edge of her shirt and Veronica's starting to kiss him all over his face in wet slobbery kisses and they might be going somewhere – Piz opens the door and walks in.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" he shouts, and Veronica and Logan split apart like Piz is her Dad and she's sixteen. Logan is still on top of her though, and Veronica struggles out from under him as he seems to be in a moment of shock, her body moving to covering his. Piz doesn't need to see the marks on his body.

"Piz!" Veronica says, painfully aware of the fact that her lips are swollen from Logan's mouth, "Why are you here?"

Piz stares at her in astonishment, and Logan quickly manages to get his shirt over his head.

"You're sleeping with him?" he demands, and Veronica shakes her head.

"Piz it's not—why do you even care?" she suddenly asks, standing up and putting her hands on her hips. Logan stands up as well, and he looks down at Veronica – something else in his brown eyes.

"I'll just leave you guys to it then," he mumbles, "I'll get to you later Veronica about – what we were just talking about." Then he ducks out the door, forgetting his jacket.

Piz turns on her as soon as the door shuts, "What are you doing with him?"

He demands.

"He's my friend Piz," Veronica spits, not in the mood for the old arguments.

"He looked like a little more than your friend right there!" Piz shouts, his face contorted in anger.

"So what if he is?" Veronica asks, confusion replacing anger. "He can be more if I want him to be more."

Piz looks like he's on the verge on saying something, but instead he steps forward and for the second time that night – Veronica gets kissed.

Piz is warm and tastes like happiness, but he also tastes like the old Veronica and she shoves him away, ducking her face.

"What was that?" she demands, stepping away. She won't deny – there was a time when she thought she and Piz would inevitably end up together, but that was before, and this was now.

"I'm in love with you Veronica," Piz pleads, stepping forward, but Veronica takes another step back.

"So that's why you've been treating me like shit ever since I started taking cases for Logan? That's why you were so upset that I wouldn't share an apartment with you? That's why you treat Logan like he has some sort of disease?"

"Veronica –" Piz starts forward, and she can see that she's breaking his heart and crushing it into pieces, but she can't find herself caring. He has been a jackass.

"No," she shook her head, "You don't get to treat Logan like shit because of me. You don't treat people like shit if you're in love with them – so why don't we both stop fooling each other? I'm not in love with you, and let me tell you, you really don't want to be in love with me."

"Why not?!" Piz looks desperate.

"Because I'm fucked-up," Veronica tells him plainly. "Kyle did that to me. And I can't be fixed, and you deserve someone whole Piz. You deserve someone who can love you right."

"What about Logan?" Piz now looks defeated, and the fact that she's the one who put that expression on his face does make her feel sad in some way.

"I don't know what's going to happen with that," she answers truthfully, "But I do know that Logan understands what it's like to be fucked-up. And you don't Piz. That's a good thing – just not for me."

She picks up Logan's jacket from the floor, and leaves the room.

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She finds him on the closest beach, having borrowed the girl next door's car to get there. He's sitting on the sand, his knees pulled to his chest, his eyes fixed on the water. His shirt is slightly bloodstained, and she greets him by dropping his jacket over his shoulders.

"Hi," she says softly, taking a seat next to him.

"Hey," he answers back, just as quietly.

"I'm not ready to talk about what just happened," she tells him plainly, "I need to sort out things in my head first, and I'm sure you need to as well. So for right now, let's pretend the kiss didn't happen."

"Couldn't you have told me that tomorrow?" Logan asks, annoyed.

"That's not why I came out here," Veronica chides, "I came out here because I realized something after sorting things out with Piz."

"And that was?"

"That you told me your secret – even if you were kind of forced to," she says, "And since you were so open with me, I decided to tell you my secret."

"You don't have to do that Ronnie –" he protests, his eyes downcast, but she can hear the curiosity in his voice.

"Hey," she says teasingly, "If we're going to pretend to be engaged – you deserve to know about my past."

"You also don't have to do that," he adds, "I can take care of myself."

"I'm going to help you Logan don't even try," she tells him plainly, rolling her eyes. "Anyways, it started at the end of my Junior year of high school, when I started to date Kyle. At first, we were really happy. He was your sort of typical high school boyfriend and I was your typical preppy pep squad girl that everyone made fun of. I took cases for people then too, and it was then that I took a case for Kyle's sister, Debbie. She wanted me to figure out if her older brother was in on this drug dealing ring, and I accepted because I thought it seemed like fun investigating.

"I figured out who was in the drug ring – how deep they were in – but it wasn't the younger brother. It was Kyle. He was the – he was the leader. He was a year older, and I don't know how a senior in high school becomes the leader of a drug ring, but he obviously was."

Logan is watching her now, his brown eyes attentive, his posture slumped. Even after her administrations, he still looks in pain.

"Unfortunately for me, I wasn't careful enough and Kyle spotted me. I tried to make up a cover story, but it wasn't enough. He knew that I had heard, and that I would turn him in if I was found. He punched me in the face and when I woke up, I was in a dark room, and I was bound at the hands and feet."

Logan's look turns from curiosity to horror in an instant, and he breathes her name like he can't stop himself.

"I guess I was lucky that Kyle liked me, because if he hadn't he probably would have killed me outright. I spent two days in that dark room before he came in. He was high, and he decided to play a few games with me. At first he just untied me and decided that we were going to play cards, and I didn't know how I could get away. I lost that first game of cards, and he hit me across the mouth for it. After that, he seemed to regret disfiguring my face – and when I lost our games, whether it be board games or cards, he would take to beating up other parts of my body. If I won though, he said the prize was getting a kiss from him. He would kiss me until I couldn't breathe and I nearly passed out from the lack of oxygen. This went on for the next five days."

Logan's eyes aren't sympathetic, but sad and understanding. He knows what it's like to have someone hit you, and damage you beyond repair.

"Then My Dad somehow found me, and that's my sob story. It's nothing compared to what you've gone—"

"It doesn't make your pain any less important," Logan says before she can continue.

"It was just terrible, because I thought he actually liked me. I thought he was falling in love with me like I was falling in love with him. And then he decided that he still loved me, and now he could show me his 'real' side. He could show me how much he loved his games. And I suppose I should be grateful I wasn't raped, but I think he was—" she cuts off, and then begins again, her voice wobbling, "I think he was going to get there any minute."

Logan looks at her for another moment, and then he leans forward and for the second time – he presses his lips to her's.

She knows she should push him away, that she needs to think about this, but she can't help herself. She hasn't felt anything since Kyle – not real emotions, and this is something beautiful.

This is Logan.

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a/n: sorry for the heavy chapter, but it was necessary.