Chapter 2: First Aid


Veronica looks around again, wondering what to do next. Deciding to stay and putting up with Logan being Logan were the easy parts. Staying in a hotel room with Logan in his current state, no matter how spacious, is likely to be anything but easy. She hears Logan come back in the room and walk by her to return to the mini-bar. Veronica has to admit that he is focused, at least. And predictable. She leans against the back of the door, debating.

While dealing with a drunk Logan may not be easy, dealing with a grief-stricken Logan who is not being allowed to drink could be disastrous. At least she has experience with the first version of Logan. Decision made, Veronica makes her way to one of the plush couches in the sitting area. While she is sure drinking tiny bottles of Jack Daniels and Absolut will do nothing but make Logan a sad drunk instead of just sad, something tells her to leave him be. His sorrow is not going to disappear with the alcohol, but he needs the distraction.

She glances over at Logan, who is standing at the mini-bar, cracking the seal on one little bottle after another, setting each one back in place. Turning back, Veronica finds herself flinching at every metallic pop, wondering just how many of them he is planning on drinking. She starts to count along in her head and determine at what point she will have to intervene tonight. Logan’s voice breaks into her thoughts.

“What’s your poison, Veronica?”

“Huh?” Veronica turns on the couch, to find Logan holding one bottle of each, eyebrows lifted in question.

Logan smirks at her. “Vodka or whiskey? Lady’s choice.” Veronica glances from the bottles to his face, trying to gauge his mood and failing. The fact that his demeanor keeps changing is keeping her unnerved. The undercurrent of grief always present just makes her sad.

So, I’m drinking with him now? “And they say chivalry is dead. Clearly, it’s alive and kicking at the Sunset Regent.” Veronica smiles at him, trying to keep things light.

“I have no plans for kicking, Veronica. So, which is it?” Seeing the hesitation on her face, Logan carries on. If you can’t get to Veronica with a smile, try a dare. “Come on. Big bad Veronica Mars can keep up, right?”

Veronica’s eyes narrow as she bites her tongue on a snide remark. When she nods at the Absolut, he almost looks disappointed. At her choice or her lack of a comeback, she is not sure. Veronica wants to slap herself in the forehead. He’s slightly off his game and now she is following his lead. Act like you, Veronica. He asked you to stay for a reason.

“Well, I haven’t been honing my skills with quite the regularity and gusto you have, Logan, but I think I can handle a drink or two.” She sees him smile as he turns back to the mini-bar and tries to ignore the surge of satisfaction in her belly. Veronica hasn’t really tried to make Logan smile in a long time. And she hasn’t succeeded in even longer.

She hops up and joins Logan by the mini-bar as he cranks the tops fully off the first two bottles. “At least use a glass.” Veronica grabs a crystal highball glass off the nearby tray and sets it in front of him. He picks it up, turns it in his hand quietly. Veronica frowns, and then jumps back as Logan slams the glass down so hard on the bar it breaks into at least a dozen large shards. He grabs up the thick bottom piece of glass, turns and throws it hard enough that it bounces off the opposite wall and rolls away under a chair.

Veronica stands frozen as Logan's face remains unnervingly blank. She would rather he yelled or swore or something. Anything but this ticking time bomb behavior. He gestures loosely at the remaining highball glasses, mumbles under his breath. “She always had one - just like those...”

Veronica wants to slap herself for the second time in two minutes. Nine of every ten times she's seen Logan's Mom at the Echolls house, she’s had a highball glass in her perfectly manicured hand. It is - or was - just about a trademark of hers. She cringes at her mistake, but is quickly distracted from that train of thought by the sight of blood.

“You’re hurt.”

Logan turns his hand and looks at it, a line of jagged red across the palm. "Your powers of deduction astound me, Mars. What was the first clue? The blood? The open wound?" The snark is half-hearted, Logan's feeble attempt at normalcy on a night where the world has fallen out from under his feet. Veronica swallows a retort and walks toward the bathroom.

"Don't drip." Logan looks down again, noticing the steady flow of blood. He grabs the bottom edge of his shirt and wraps it around his hand to control it as he follows Veronica into the bathroom.

When he arrives at the door, Veronica ventures a small smile. "Following me without being told? My classes in Assertive Walking Away are really paying off." Logan snorts half a laugh, but it is enough to make Veronica breathe a little more easily.

She spares a glance for the luxuriously appointed bathroom, with its acres of counter space and fluffy white towels. The light is glaring compared to the soft warm light of the other rooms. Turning the tap, she reaches out and takes Logan’s bleeding hand in hers. She pushes his hand under the running water, and he pulls back, wincing.

“Too hot?”

“No, it fucking hurts.” He frowns at her, his voice edgy.

Veronica turns the handle, slowing the flow of water and tugs Logan's hand back under. She gently pulls the cut apart to let the water push any small shards of glass out. She also tries not to notice the way Logan is not looking at his hand at all. No, instead he is watching her face. Veronica feels her cheeks redden and wonders why Logan's attention should affect her so. The fact that he is currently closer to her than he has been in over a year might be part of it. Bustling into efficiency, she turns to meet his eyes, causing him to drop his gaze. But Veronica caught the intensity of the look, the...affection. Okay, I was better off when he was biting my head off. That I can handle. Puppy dog eyes, not so much.

“There. Does it feel like there’s anything still in it?” Veronica is entirely too aware of holding Logan’s hand as she asks this question.

“I don’t know. It hurts.”

Veronica gently pushes on the skin around the cut, watching for a reaction.

“Ow! God, I know I've been a bastard, Veronica, is it necessary to poke my open wound to get back at me? Need some salt to rub in there, too?” Veronica pauses, wondering if that bastard part qualified as an apology in the Logan Echolls dictionary.

“No. Salt won’t be necessary. I’ve got some lemon juice around here somewhere.” Veronica’s voice is completely deadpan and they both fall silent for a few seconds before Logan chuckles at her. The tension breaks again.

“You’re always so prepared.”

“Me and the Boy Scouts.” Veronica leans over closer to Logan’s hand, checking for telltale glints of glass. “I - think - I got it all. Now, here’s where we find out if you got your father’s money’s worth when you booked this room. Keep your hand in the sink.” Veronica gently sets his hand down in the bowl, a thin stream of blood running from it onto the white porcelain. She starts opening drawers and then crouches down to peer in the cabinet under the counter.

“So, what are you dressed up for, anyway?”

Veronica nearly hits her head on the counter when she jumps. She cranes her neck to look up at Logan, whose eyes move from her dress to her face. His expression tells her nothing about the workings of his mind.

Okaaaay. So, now we’re chatting. Great. “I was at a party.” She looks back into the cabinet.

“Whose party?”

Veronica fights back a sigh. Logan is bleeding profusely into the sink and he wants to discuss her social calendar. “Caz’s. Meg asked me to come with her.”

Logan snorts. “What? Meg and Caz? He offer to jump off anything for her yet? It’s the only way to know for sure.”

Veronica grins in spite of herself. “It does seem to be a thing with him. But no. A-ha!” She closes the cabinet and stands up with her prize. A first aid kit. “She was just wondering if he was the - why do you care, anyway?”

He shrugs. “I don’t. Just making conversation.” Veronica frowns at him. Logan doesn’t actually make conversation with her, so that’s not quite it. The dress? That’s what started it. Had Logan been trying, in his backward way, to pay her a compliment? She shakes her head a little at the ridiculousness of that notion as she prepares her first aid supplies on the counter.

“Why’d you leave the party?” Veronica looks over at Logan, hearing the question behind his question.

“Duncan.”

“Duncan?” Logan remembers when Duncan called him downstairs. He didn’t mention Veronica.

“Yeah. He told me you were still here.” Veronica takes a cue from Logan and leaves out what is implied. “Now let’s see that hand.”

Logan glances down at his hand still in the sink. “Still attached at least.”

“Yes, it’s a medical miracle.” Veronica cuts the water back on for a few seconds to rinse off the blood and is pleased to see the flow is slowing. She takes a soft white washcloth from the counter and wraps it around his hand, squeezing gently. His hand tenses but he doesn’t make a sound. She drops the cloth and grabs the small bottle of disinfectant. “This...will hurt.”

Without waiting for a response, she pours the liquid over the cut and is surprised at Logan’s stillness. She knows that must have at least stung. Her mind wanders back to Trina’s words in the lobby. It may be that Logan has had quite a lot of disinfectant poured over quite a lot of wounds in his day. A little frown creases Veronica’s forehead at the thought of it. It’s true Logan has been a bastard, but nobody deserves that. The bathroom has grown very quiet in the last minute or so. She can feel him watching her again, but resists the urge to call him on it. The silence is nice. His large hand cradled in her small one is warm and heavy.

Keeping to her business, Veronica dabs the excess liquid away with a gauze pad. Taking a fresh one, she holds it firmly against the cut with her thumb. She grabs one of the pieces of tape she tore earlier and fastens one edge to his skin. Repeating with the other three, she soon has his bandage in place.

“There.” She breaks the quiet with a word and feels Logan start to pull his hand back. “No, wait. Just to be on the safe side.” Letting go of his hand, Veronica picks up the roll of gauze in the kit and holds it up. She glances at Logan, who is just standing there with his hand in mid-air. When Veronica meets his eyes, they drop immediately to his hand. One hand holds the edge down on his hand while the other starts to wrap the gauze around and around. After a few wraps, she looks around for scissors in the kit, frowning. “Oh, for crying out loud. No scissors?”

Veronica sighs and stands there for a second, thinking. Finally, she leans forward, and takes the edge of the gauze between her teeth. Her hair falls forward, sliding over Logan’s hand and wrist. She notes his hand twitch a little as she tears at the fabric. Standing up, she tears it the rest of the way and uses tape to secure it. Veronica turns away, releasing his hand and starts to clean up the supplies with crisp movements. “There. All done.” She hopes the curtain of her hair hides the slight flush in her cheeks.

As she moves to rinse the washcloth out in the sink, she sneaks a look at Logan, as she fully expected him to immediately leave and return to drinking. Instead, she sees he is studying his newly wrapped hand, flexing it slightly. It occurs to Veronica that it is unlikely anyone takes care of him anymore. It must feel weird for her to do it. He lets his hand drop to his side and clears his throat.

Veronica pauses, the water still running into the cloth, rinsing away his blood.

“Sorry you missed rest of the party.” Logan’s voice is low and she almost didn’t hear him over the water. She reaches out to turn it off.

“I’m not. Not really my kind of party.” Her voice is breezy and betrays none of her shock. It’s the first time the word sorry has crossed Logan Echolls’ lips and been directed at her since...well, ever.

“Still. Sorry.” Veronica turns to answer him, but finds herself looking at his back as he leaves the bathroom. Her mouth still slightly open, she blinks rapidly and returns to cleaning up, thoughts spinning.

Logan, apologizing to me. Logan. Apologizing. To Me. Twice, even. Veronica breathes out a little laugh. I think I could use that drink right about now.

On to Chapter 3: Famous Last Words