Title: At the Bottom

Rating: K+

Summary: The first thought that entered his mind as he slowly came to consciousness was that he was never going to drink again.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

"… any minute. So I need you to wake up before then. Because if you don't then a couple of paramedics are going to think that I killed the mighty Logan Echolls." The voice, that had penetrated his consciousness and made him aware of his painful existence, paused and Logan heard a deep sigh in its place. "Please," it began again, gentler this time. "The ambulance should be here any minute."

His mind cleared slightly and he slowly opened his eyes. Logan gazed blearily up at Veronica's worried face looming over him. "'mb'lance?" he parroted, coughing weakly when the words caught in his dry throat.

Veronica smiled down at him, with what he vaguely identified as relief, and nodded. "Yeah, I called one after …"

An ambulance. Logan barely realized he had stopped listening when the implication of that statement penetrated the haze of pain that was surrounding his mind. An ambulance meant a hospital. He could not go to a hospital.

Logan tried to push himself up from his reclining position, when the pounding in his head intensified to jack-hammering status. A pair of hands pushed him back down and he concentrated on controlling his panting breaths until the pain diminished to tolerable levels.

"No," he grinded out through clenched teeth. "Need to…"

"No, you need to stop before you make it worse," she said, slowly removing her hands as if she was waiting for him to attempt to sit up again. He sagged into his seat, knowing that there was no use to even maintain the pretense that he had the strength to push past her.

"Don't need an ambulance," he murmured. "Just take me home."

"As much of an impressive show of testosterone as this is, you're bleeding all over my seats and I really prefer my car to not look like a CSI set. So let's just wait until the professionals get here and see what they say."

Logan felt his eyes sliding closed and he stubbornly pushed the heavy lids up to glare at her. "Don't worry. I'll pay to clean the pleather." He managed to speak somewhat coherently, but struggled to suppress the groan as each syllable grated against his raw throat. "Look as good as the day you drove off the used lot."

He saw her roll her eyes as she turned away from him. Logan could not see what she was doing, though he could not see much of anything anyway. The black spots in the corners of his vision were starting to multiply and shift together. "Even throw in the fuzzy dice," he mumbled.

Veronica chuckled. "Already have a pair. They glow in the dark."

"Please," he rasped, the desperation and pain apparent even to him in his voice. "Home…"

He felt her hand on his cheek before he even realized she had moved closer to him. Her face shifted into his line of vision, but he found himself unable to follow her movements. "Logan, what's wrong?" she asked. "Why don't you want an ambulance?"

Logan shook his head and clenched his eyes closed. He could not tell her. He never told anyone, except for his mother and Trina. Though, neither ever believed him. Or if they did, then they just refused to acknowledge that it existed.

If the ambulance comes, and they see his bruises, then his father will kill him. Logan had first learned that in fifth grade when his shirt had ridden up while he was visiting one of his father's sets. He and his father had been talking when an extremely nosy extra came and asked them if the make-up department had painted the bruises on his side.

That was the first night that Aaron had used the belt, though it had since become a favorite punishment of his father's.

Aaron Echolls was the one person Logan was afraid of.

The one person who could truly hurt him.

"No one's going to hurt you," Veronica whispered from somewhere beside him. Logan blinked and tried to focus on his surroundings. He had not even realized he had spoken aloud.

Logan wanted to shake his head, but had enough presence of mind to remember why that would not be smart. "Everyone does," he murmured in disagreement. "You did."

"Logan…"

"I'll never forgive you," he interrupted before she could start, his voice gaining strength. Somewhere in his mind he realized that he did not want to have this conversation with anyone, let alone Veronica Mars, and yet he could not stop himself. "Lilly… I loved her. She is… was the only girl I ever loved. You told… She broke up with me because you told. And now she's dead." With that, whatever fleeting strength he had found quickly dissipated. "I'll never forgive you," he finished, coughing weakly and choking as a spike of pain in his head stole his breath.

The warm hand, which had been more comfort than he ever wanted to admit, and gentle voice were both gone by the time he caught his breath.

Silence descended around him and Logan felt himself lulled towards the comforting darkness that seemed to be patiently waiting in the recesses of his mind.

He felt his eyes slipping closed as the pull of unconsciousness became stronger.

A sharp intake of breath next to him caused his eyes to flutter back open. Logan looked up as glaring lights shone throw the windshield in front of him and he instinctively slammed his lids shut to attempt to block out the new cause of his blinding pain.

"Get down," Veronica's voice screamed next to him and he felt himself being pulled down across the seats.

A loud bang and the subsequent shattering sound sent sharp spikes of pain through his head.

Then everything went black.

A/N: Please Review :)