Summary: When the tabloids start hounding Logan over an interview for the 35th anniversary of the movie that made his father famous it stirs up some bad memories in the Mars-Echolls household.

Tumblr Prompt: M+O Panic attack + "I'm not leaving you like this"

Nightmares

Veronica hadn't been able to reach her boyfriend all afternoon, which wasn't entirely abnormal. It was a Saturday so Logan didn't have to be down in San Diego and, since she was deep in a case, there was a good chance he was catching a few waves with Dick. The only thing that made her pause was that it rolled straight to voicemail, but as Mac tapped on her office door to announce she'd found what they were looking for, it had been shoved to the back of her mind.

She had tried calling him again as the day was wrapping up to see if he wanted her to pick up dinner on the way home, but it rolled immediately to:

"This is Logan. It was Albert Einstein that said life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving. I'm out keeping my balance. Leave a message or don't. Your call."

Okay. Usually he wasn't that hard to reach when his feet were on solid ground. Maybe surfing had turned into video games and his phone battery had died. Reasonable enough. If so, he was in for leftover pizza when he got back.

And yet she found his car parked on the street outside of their apartment, so he wasn't at Dick's new digs at the Neptune Grande. That meant his phone was intentionally off, which didn't make sense. Even though he wasn't working most weekends, he needed to be reachable.

Veronica played over the possibilities as she climbed the three flights up to their apartment and took notice of his surfboard leaning against the railing of their patio and Pony's leash hanging on the nail at the front door. As she opened the door, the sharp sound of artillery fire greeted her from their television and she found Logan on the couch with a game controller in hand. "Hey," she shouted over the noise, dropping to one knee as an excitable puppy started climbing her leg.

"Hey," he echoed without looking around, the single word hollow, but she thought he might have turned the sound down a little.

She shot Pony a questioning look, but the puppy just licked her hand before she stood again. "Your phone's been off," she ventured.

"It's broken. New one should be in tomorrow."

Ahh. Broken phone, irritable Logan, puppy that instantly wanted Mom's attention as soon as she walked through the door like he'd gotten the silent treatment all afternoon. Things were starting to add up. "Did you eat Daddy's phone?" Veronica asked the slobbering pup.

Logan finally paused his game and she saw more than heard him inhale deeply, unfolding off the couch and he looked more strained than she expected. "Don't blame him. Not his fault the wall doesn't have any give."

Okay. That was weird. She watched him cross the room and aim for the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. "What happened?"

He grimaced, the expression so subtle she almost missed it. "Threw it."

"For sport?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light. It wasn't like the nine years of maturity while they had been apart had magically cured Logan of his temper, but he had a much better handle on it. Not just anything set him off these days.

Logan snorted softly, setting his glass down hard on the counter to free his hand for a sarcastic little flourish that reminded Veronica of a much younger version of the man she loved. "Tabloids. Apparently they're doing a thirty-five year celebration of The Long Haul and they wanted a few words about dear ol' dad. I guess Trina wasn't available."

Yeah. Okay. The broken phone made more sense now. "Let me guess, they wouldn't take no for an answer?"

"They were very insistent."

Veronica swallowed the quip that almost escaped her about hanging up versus launching the phone across the room. He seemed at least a little calmer now and there was no need to re-escalate. Nor should she ask - no matter how much her curious nature drove her to want to - exactly what they'd said to initiate the premature death of his phone. Logan had a volatile relationship with the press at best. They'd spent the summer after his father's death hounding him for an interview. How did he feel about his father's death? Was it true that Aaron had cut him out of his will? Did he regret testifying against him - and some even went as far as to say lying about him - in the Lilly Kane murder trial? Was he in any way responsible for his father's death?

The questions went on and on. This was certainly not the first broken phone over them and he'd changed his number two or three times during that summer and the following school year, doing his best to fall off their radar, and he'd told her that it had worked for a while. Right up until Carrie's spiral became more public. Between his failed attempts to help her and her eventual death, the vultures had returned, and all they wanted was a piece of him. Veronica had seen it even in New York. Son of a movie star…. That's all he was to them. Never Logan. Never a living, breathing human being that could have been crushed by the weight of everything that they kept dredging back up. She hated it. She hated them.

"Sorry," he huffed.

"For what? Not your fault they're assholes."

That finally pulled the barest of smiles from him and Veronica stepped forward, her arms around his middle and she looked up into those soft brown eyes of his, hating how that old hurt crept in at the mention of his father. She couldn't fix it for him, even if she did what she could to help him put a few legal barriers between him and the press. The damage was done and there was no way to make Aaron Echolls pay any more than he already had. If she could, she'd do it in a heartbeat. She was good at making people pay, but not so great in knowing what to say to ease the hurt left behind.

Logan cleared his throat. "How 'bout dinner?"

Change of subject. That she could do. They were good at distractions.

"What do you say we walk down to the sushi joint with the teriyaki roll you like?"

"I thought you didn't like it?"

"No, I said they make us wait too long for a table and it's not worth it," she countered. "But you've eaten at a few places you're not crazy about when I've had shit days."

She found him staring at her like he was trying to find an angle that wasn't there before his smile returned, a little more real this time. "I love you. You know that?"

"That is the rumour." She tipped up on her toes and pecked a kiss to his lips. "Love you too. Go find shoes. I'll grab Pony. They might make us wait for a table, but not that cute little monster."

"True," he chuckled and disappeared down the hall.

Dinner was good. Relaxing. Veronica has been right about Pony snagging them a seat quicker than they usually got one there and the pup had curled up on Logan's foot under the table like a sleepy, floppy-eared guard. He and Veronica stayed and chatted, drinking sake and Logan picking his way around the dishes without shellfish. By the end of it, nearly all of the frustration from earlier had been worked loose, Veronica's smile and laugh easing the tenseness in a way few things could.

He could remember getting home, remember that laugh following them into their apartment as he had picked her up and spun her around. He remembered Veronica kissing him and they had stumbled and tumbled their way back to the bedroom, her fingers wrapped around the fabric of his shirt to drag it over his head. He remembered laying there with her some time later, comfortably curled together, her nails tracing patterns against his bare back as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, sleep pulling at him.

It should have been an easy sleep, and maybe it was at least for a little while. Somehow though, no matter how hard he'd fought against it, his mind dropped him into a place he didn't want to be. He stood outside a house that had burned down over a decade before and stared down into an empty pool. He could feel the dried blood from his nose, the deep ache in ribs that had been cracked by the fall. It made it hard to breathe, but he was rooted in place. Trapped and utterly unable to move.

"I didn't ask a lot," a voice that he'd have preferred never hear again said from behind him. "You're my blood, my legacy. You destroyed it."

Fingers wrapped around the collar of his shirt, finally breaking where his feet might as well have been glued to the concrete surrounding the pool and he felt himself falling. Down and down and down. Like ejecting without a parachute. He slammed into the unrelenting ground, his head bouncing and he found himself staring up into the rage-filled eyes of his father. "You'd have nothing without me! Be nothing!"

Logan struggled for words, but Aaron's hands were around his throat, cutting off his air. He could fight. The rational part of his mind that screamed at him that none of this was real anymore also reminded him that he would have been stronger than Aaron if the man were still alive, but that didn't seem to sink in deep enough to counter the vivid nightmare. No. He was eight years old with his father screaming and shaking him, so filled with rage that Logan was sure this was it. This was how it was going to end.

Another voice cut through, sharp and worried and Logan swung wildly even as he found himself flying up and out of bed. He still couldn't breathe as he reached trembling fingers to his throat.

"Logan?"

He spun, finding Veronica on the far side of their bed like she'd scooter away quickly. Her eyes were wide in the shadows and it took him a moment to realize he might have swung at her. No. No no no. He hadn't meant to. He'd been fighting for his life. He would never —

"Logan?" she tried again, inching forward this time.

"Did I….?" was all he could manage and she shook her head.

"It's okay. I'm okay. Are you?"

Something in his mind reminded him that he should tell her yes. Alway yes. If not there'd be consequences.

And there it was. The tightening of his throat again, just like Aaron was reaching out from the grave and choking the life out of him. If I can't live neither can you. It wasn't hard to imagine him saying it.

Logan felt Veronica's fingers on his arm and he flinched away, throwing the sheets off and stumbling out of bed, halfway to the living room before his eyes found their focus in the shadows. Pony gave a soft whimper off to the side, but stayed out from underfoot.

Everything was spinning too fast. Too fast to form words or even thoughts. He hit the far end of the living room and turned around, Pony scurrying again. Veronica met him before he could redirect and she caught his shaking hands, holding them firmly. "Hey," she coaxed, her voice strangely soft. "It's okay. Whatever you saw, it's not real. It's not here."

"I just…. I can't…. I don't…." He loosed a low, sharp curse and tried to meet her eyes. "I just need a few minutes."

"Okay," she said, but didn't budge.

Logan shook his head. "Alone."

He watched her lips tilt down at the corners as blonde brows drew together. "I'm not leaving you like this."

Like this. An absolute basket case. This hadn't happened in so long. He thought he'd moved past it. Figured it out. He shoved the fear under anger and it made things…. maybe not easier. That wasn't the right word, because the anger brought its own problems, but it was bearable. He felt more in control.

Veronica still hadn't let go of his hands, so when his knees gave and he sank heavily to the floor, she moved with him. Funny, she never broke eye contact. It was like an anchor, carefully reeling him in to sturdier ground.

"What was it for you?" He just stared at her and Veronica leaned down to kiss his knuckles, her voice still quiet. "It's the box for me. Burning hot and I know I'm gonna die."

"What?"

"When I dream about Aaron," she clarified.

"I didn't know that you did," Logan managed, finally shifting his grip so that he was holding her hands, not just being held.

"We don't talk about him," Veronica reminded him softly and squeezed his fingers. "For good reason."

"Sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"He was my father."

"That doesn't make him your fault. Not for what he did to me or to you or…."

"Lilly," his first love's name slipped off his tongue.

"Or Lilly. You are not responsible for Aaron. He should have been better for you. Dads are supposed to protect you."

The words stung, even if she's meant them as affirmation of his own innocence in Aaron's sins. She had had Keith. Of course she would think dads were inherently good. Not his. And, if Aaron could be believed, not his father before him either. That didn't exactly bode well for him. Not that Veronica had ever shown any inclination to take that step.

Veronica loosed a breath. "Sometimes it's my dad outside, like when it happened, but I hear this sound and I know he's gone. Sometimes it's Lilly or Wallace or Mac. And sometimes -" she caught his gaze and held it - "it's you. And all I can think as I'm burning alive is didn't he do enough to him? Why does he get to take him from me too?"

Logan saw tears in her eyes and he reached one hand up to run a thumb along to wipe it away. "Tonight was the pool," he confessed softly. "I could feel every cracked rib. The bloody nose he gave me when he knocked me in. And him… demanding why I was destroying his legacy." He snorted, shaking his head at the stupidity of it all.

"He's gone. He can't hurt either of us," Veronica breathed and there was a long, thoughtful pause before she spoke again. "He threatened me once in the elevator at the Grande. I think he would have done it too. First chance he got. Whoever killed him probably saved both of our lives."

Logan swallowed hard. "Duncan."

"What?"

"Duncan hired somebody."

"How… how do you know that? How would he even know….?"

"I found out a few years ago, while you were in New York."

She made a small sound of acknowledgement. He'd always wondered if she knew, but from the look on her face he guessed probably not.

"He loved you and he was my best friend. Last chance to protect us, I guess."

"I guess," she echoed and looked up at him. She let go of his hand to press both palms to either side of his face, guiding him in gently until their lips met. He melted into the kiss until they rocked back. Logan leaned over her, hovering close enough that he could feel her breath and she let one hand slide to rest against his chest. "Now we protect each other, don't we?"

He nodded wordlessly and felt her other hand wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him back down. "Love you."

"You too. Think we can get back to bed?"

"Yeah."

He rolled off of her, his movements slow, but at least he felt steadier now. She took his hand again as they climbed to their feet, leading him back to the bedroom. It had been a long time since he'd found himself that deep in a nightmare, but it was the first time Veronica had been on the waking side of it. Strange what a difference it could make. On those nights that his father had haunted him over the last decade he had known he wouldn't see a wink of sleep the rest of the night, but now, somehow, he knew she'd protect him against Aaron's ghost. They'd protect each other.