Chapter 1: Holding
As Logan’s body sags into hers, Veronica finds herself
struggling to hold him up. Logan has a good seventy plus pounds
and ten inches on her, so the struggle is real and one she might
lose. He shakes with sobs and clutches her sleeve like a drowning
man, and she feels his knees begin to buckle along with her own.
She grimaces, wraps her hand around his neck, holding him to her.
Veronica just barely hears his words, his whispers between sobs,
“She’s gone.”
Any remaining animosity towards Logan falls away in that moment,
replaced by heartbreaking empathy. Veronica knows how a mother
can hurt you and how the loss of one, even temporarily in her
case, can just about break you. And the strangeness of holding
Logan becomes secondary to his obvious pain.
Veronica sees movement from the corner of her eye. The hotel
clerk is making a phone call. She frowns at the way he keeps
darting his eyes at the two of them and then whispering into the
phone. Logan makes a choked sound and tries to stand up straight,
but she can tell he is in no way done and she runs her hand
slowly over his back. He holds on tighter as they slide down onto
the couch in a clumsy heap. Veronica notices the things Logan
left on the table in front of him. Credit card, receipt, a pen,
room key card. She frowns over the last item and leans over just
enough to see that the credit card is in his Dad’s name and
the receipt is signed by Logan. Room 807. She gasps a little and
looks back at the increasingly shifty hotel clerk. He’s off
the phone, but now his eyes are cutting from the pair of them to
the front door. It doesn’t take more clues for her to
realize the bastard probably called someone. Maybe paparazzi to
wait outside for the wayward son of Aaron Echolls and his alleged
blonde fiancée.
“Damn it.” She breathes it out and Logan tenses. With a
shuddering sigh, he lets go of her a little.
“Sorry.” His voice is unrecognizable to Veronica’s
ears. No snark, not even a hint of bravado. Just flat. She hears
him sniffling quietly, but he doesn’t sit up, head still
pressed against her chest.
“What? No, not you, Logan. The...I think we better get out
of here. Or at least...” She looks at the key card. Better.
She doesn’t want to take him to his house in this shape. Or
hers. Neutral territory suits them both much better. Plus, she
doesn’t know what to do with Trina’s little tidbits
about Logan being abused. She’ll need time to work it out.
“Come on.” She stands up and he lets her slide out of
his arms, and remains slumped on the couch. His eyes lock on the
floor, wet tracks visible on his face. Veronica crouches down in
front of Logan, eyes trying to catch his.
Finally, he gives in and lifts them slightly. Swollen and
bloodshot, and Veronica can’t remember ever seeing Logan
this vulnerable. So broken. It scares her and she feels so
helpless. Like he’s falling into too many pieces for her to
know how to re-assemble. And somehow watching it happen is making
it her job to fix. “Let’s go.” Her voice is soft,
gentler than she might have ever spoken to him and something in
Logan responds to it. He nods, very slightly, but it’s
enough. Veronica takes one hand in hers and he comes to his feet.
With the other hand, she sweeps up the items from the table and
heads for the elevator.
Logan stumbles a bit behind her, but doesn’t protest her
rapid flight to the golden doors. She jabs the button hard,
harder than necessary. Veronica glares at the hotel clerk, who
quails visibly and starts to shuffle papers in front of him. She
then glances up at Logan, whose gaze is locked onto the floor in
front of him. His hand in hers has a tremor. A slight squeeze of
her hand on his makes him go slightly rigid and Veronica feels
him withdraw. She wants to sigh, but holds it in. Logan Echolls
is so damn frustrating. Why does she have to hurt for him right
now? Why does looking at him make her want to sob, too? Why, even
now, does he fight her?
She catches his gaze again. “Logan, wait right here.
Don’t move. Got it?” His eyes meet hers and then fall
away and Veronica takes it as agreement. Dropping his hand, she
strides purposefully over to the pasty-faced hotel clerk. When he
sees her coming, he looks around, maybe for an escape route.
He’s relieved she can’t see him sweating under his
Brooks Brothers suit.
Veronica stops at the counter in front of him, huge grin
plastered across her face. When she speaks, it is through gritted
teeth. “Listen to me. You call one more person on that phone
about him... No, don’t you even look at him. You know
who I mean. If you make one more call, I will make it my
personal mission in life to makes yours hell. You do not want me
to get angry. This?” She points at her face. “This is
perturbed. Angry is a whole different zip code from this. Are we
clear?” The smile never wavers. Mouth hanging slightly open,
the clerk nods. Veronica raises her voice for the benefit of
other guests in the lobby. She leans a little closer, reading his
nametag. “And another thing....Alan...we will most
certainly NOT be spending our honeymoon in this rat trap!”
Veronica turns on her heel in a huff and heads back to the
elevator and Logan, who is now slumped against the wall by the
doors.
Finally, a high ding signals the arrival of the elevator.
Veronica cuts narrowed eyes to the clerk as she steps in, and he
swallows. Hard. Once in the elevator, Veronica tugs along the
sullen Logan by the hand. She quickly taps 8 and the Door Close
button before any other guests get curious. Veronica doesn’t
think Logan was recognized by anyone but the clerk, but
there’s no sense in waiting around to find out. She knows
her little outburst was not necessary, but the mortified look on
the clerk’s face was pretty much worth it. Logan leans
against the back wall of the elevator, shoulders slumped. Defeat
rolls off him in waves. His hand falls out of Veronica’s and
smacks limply against the wall. He doesn’t react.
Veronica looks at him. Trying desperately not to stare at him,
but having an inexplicable need to not let him out of her sight
at the same time. Like she’ll miss the moment the last bit
of him breaks. He seems so close to...something. Something bad.
It is at this moment that Veronica realizes she is not leaving
him tonight. Deciding that is going to be the simplest thing that
happens tonight, she is quite sure.
She shakes her head almost imperceptibly, wondering at the string
of events that led to her being in an elevator at the Sunset
Regent, heading to a room that cost about half a month’s
rent, with Logan Echolls of all people. It’s the last part
that makes her reel. Right now, though Logan is not the brash,
rude Logan of the last year. He’s a broken little boy with
no one. No Lilly, no mother, barely Duncan and certainly no one
else to count on in his screwed up family. So, Veronica Mars it
is. He’s got her, whether he wants her or not. As broken as
he is at the moment, she thinks it’s probably not. Showing
weakness in front of former/current enemies is never a Logan-type
thing to do. Good thing she doesn’t tend to give a
rat’s ass what he wants. He needs her.
The ding of the elevator snaps Veronica out of her thoughts but
does nothing for the daze Logan has fallen into. As the doors
slide open, she looks back at him. No reaction. The comatose
thing is not a good sign for hyper-kinetic Logan. She takes one
hand and tugs, but he doesn’t budge. His eyes, his thoughts
are somewhere else. Somewhere in deep waters, drifting. Veronica
takes his other hand and really pulls, leaning back. Logan seems
to notice her and stumbles forward, nearly knocking Veronica to
the ground. She lets go of his hands and puts both palms flat on
his chest to keep him up. His eyes snap up and struggle to focus
on her face. His eyebrows draw down, his mouth twisted in a
frown.
“It’s okay, Logan. Come on.” The look in his eyes
makes Veronica shiver. It’s the same vacant stare. The one
he had the first time she saw him after Lilly... He pushes away
from her and heads down the hall, luckily in the right direction.
Veronica follows him, shaking her head. She is in for a rough
night.
Too much death. There is too much death hanging over Logan. She
can see it in the way his shoulders curve down under the weight.
Veronica catches up and passes him, cutting off his stumble at
Room 807. She slides the key card in the lock and when it flashes
green, slides the door open.
Veronica can smell the money in this room. A far cry from the
Camelot, for sure. Logan wanders in behind her, ignoring the
opulence, eyes searching. A lamp is on in the room to welcome its
affluent guests. Apparently, energy is no object when a room runs
$500+ a night. Finally, Logan finds what he is looking for and
the hint of a wry smile touches his lips. The mini-bar.
Veronica stands in the doorway, unsure what to do next. Leave him
to drown his sorrows in tiny bottles of booze or come in and
watch him drown his sorrows in tiny bottles of booze? She
remembers her decision not to leave him and lets the door slide
silently shut behind her. Veronica watches Logan gather a few
handfuls of little bottles of booze and start to line them up on
top of the bar. Alternating clear and dark, Absolut and Jack
Daniels. His voice startles her.
“What are you doing here, Veronica?” He continues to
arrange the bottles for a few more seconds before turning to look
at her.
She moves a little closer. “Uh, Logan. Remember, I was
downstairs and I helped you get up here? This is the room you
paid for before Tri - um, before. Remember?”
“I didn’t hit my head. Of course I remember. I’m
asking what are you doing here?” He points at
her and then at the floor. His voice regains some of the harsh
edge Veronica is used to, and she feels her skin immediately
thicken again. His eyes on hers are flat and emotionless. She
curses herself for letting her guard down for even a second.
Helping Logan turns out to be a mistake. Another mistake in a
long line of mistakes ending with the word Logan. Talking to
Logan. Looking at Logan. Being in the same county with Logan.
Another smaller voice tells her he is lashing out, that it’s
not her, it’s the grief talking, but she’s been through
it with him too many times to listen to that voice.
“I’m not.” Veronica turns and grabs the door
handle, facing the door so he doesn’t see face. “I
wouldn’t recommend leaving through the lobby anytime soon. I
saw the clerk make a phone call to some of his best paparazzi
pals, who will soon be prowling for the Echolls kid and an
adorable blonde in some compromising position.” Veronica
keeps to herself that the cameras will be looking for tears, not
a prom night pic, but she figures Logan can work that one out for
himself. She yanks the door open without looking back and curses
the hydraulic closer on the door. Apparently, at the Sunset
Regent, you don’t slam doors.
Veronica heads for the elevator and jabs the down button, tapping
her foot immediately. She stands there, arms crossed, jaw tight
and wonders once again how she got herself into this situation.
The sound of a door swinging open makes her spine go rigid.
“I don’t know if you are adorable, exactly.” His
voice is softer than before, and she is relieved to hear a bit of
snark return to it. That Logan she can handle.
Veronica rolls her eyes, keeps her eyes on the closed doors of
the elevator. “Go back in the room, Logan.”
He ignores her. “Kinda hot, but adorable? Nah.”
Veronica feels an involuntary flush fill her cheeks. She still
doesn’t answer.
The hallway falls silent until Logan finally blurts out,
“Fuck, Veronica. Don’t go.”
Rolling her eyes yet again, Veronica reacts to his
‘heartfelt plea’ for her company. “Well, gee whiz,
Logan, when you put it that way, I’d be crazy to -” She
turns to look at Logan and the words die in her throat. The
unfiltered expression on his face is a devastating combination of
fear and grief and some element of desperation. Her mouth hangs
open in a most unbecoming fashion.
“You’ll catch flies.” He smirks at her, some of
his naked emotion pushed away. Veronica’s head spins at what
it took for him to open up to her just then. In a few words and a
look, she knew he needed her even more than she thought.
“Huh?”
“Your mouth.” Veronica clicks her teeth back together,
embarrassed.
The elevator dings, signaling its arrival, and Veronica turns to
look. The doors slide open, revealing a nicely dressed older
couple. "Check. Elevator stops on 8. Thanks for your
cooperation. Enjoy your evening. The Sunset Regent thanks
you." The doors slide closed on a confused pair as Veronica
pivots and makes her way back to Room 807. She glances up at
Logan and then pushes past him. The barest hint of a smile
touches his face as he slips back in and closes the door.