When it comes down to it, he thinks the court-appointed psychiatrist is actually right: drugs are your friends. Of course, the thin-lipped, stuffy old bat doesn't exactly put it like that. She more or less asks him how he's feeling, nods in all the right places until he slips her up with one of his more mundane sarcastic remarks, and then frowns disapprovingly. But not before scribbling down yet another prescription for yet another antidepressant and hastily shoving it towards him. Yes, ma'am. He gets the message loud and clear. Drugs are definitely your friends.

Especially in a world where the walking, talking variety aren't really accessible to him anymore.

He tries to think back to the time when that had never been a problem for him, when people had been practically lining up to get in good with Aaron Echolls' son, the great movie actor. Now here he is, former heir to millions, Logan Echolls: Ward of the State.

The foster home they placed him in is a complete shithole. Two bedrooms to house the various dirty faces of at least four other children (he's never been quite able to keep count), all under the age of 6. Victims of happenstance similar to his own, but too young to really completely understand the hell their life will become as a result. Except for Pedro. Yeah, that kid definitely knows what's coming. Proof was never more evident the night the stupid kid decided to pee in his bed, and then proceeded to smirk at him all throughout the next day.

His foster parents welcomed them into their dingy abode with an excitement usually reserved to winning the lottery, chattering on about how sorry they were for everything's that happened, and how they hope they can make everything as "comfortable as possible". But he's not stupid. He knows they're secretly stoked that they pulled the longest straw out of the foster pool, and now they have something to talk about with their trailer park friends. "The Logan Echolls? He's living with you? On a scale of one to ten: how fucked up is he?"

He can practically write the tell-all story himself.

The line in the pharmacy is long enough to warrant a cigarette, a new habit he's picked up since living with the Edmans. Bonnie practically shoved her own pack at him that first night. "If you need anything, just let me know," she had said, with a smile and a wink, like it was their little secret. Yeah. Okay. So you won't mind if I nab that bottle of Vicodin from your medicine cabinet then. Seeing as you want to make things as "comfortable as possible". And believe you me, Vicodin is much more comfortable then having to be lucid around you.

He's almost finished with the damn thing when he sees her, staring at him from across the street. A muttered curse never quite makes it out, and for a moment, he's just as frozen as she is. That is, until, the truck driver running through the intersection leans on his horn, startling him out of whatever the fuck he's thinking. With a wry smile, a small shake of his head, he heads back into the pharmacy, hoping against hope she decides to leave it be, and let alone.

10 minutes later, and, "So . . . you're smoking now."

No such luck apparently.

He glances sideways at her and guffaws. "Veronica Mars. Wow. Your powers of observation are as astute as ever. Tell me again that one about the ex-boyfriend who killed his girlfriend."

She prickles, and he finds a silent satisfaction in that. "I wasn't wrong about that, you know. Just had the wrong ex-boyfriend," she hedges.

He nods once, and keeps his eyes on the three people in line in front of him. "Right. Whatever. Listen, I've got things to do. Like entertaining the psychiatrist's weekly miracle drug of choice." He takes a deep breath and turns to face her, sizing her up. "Not really in the mood to figure out what the hell you could want from me now, alright?"

He feels her gaze, and shifts uncomfortably on two feet. Her voice is resolved, but a little shaky, as she says, "I just thought you should know. I didn't really get a chance to tell you that night. That I never wanted to believe it. I never wanted to think you could do that."

Logan bites his lower lip. "It doesn't matter," he says quietly. "You still did. What I'm wondering now, is what we could possibly have left to talk about."

He's almost relieved when she doesn't say anything for awhile. But then, he feels her hand land lightly on his back, a bare touch and then it's gone. "The prosecution has asked me to testify. Next Thursday."

"I was hoping it would be you."

Logan stands in front of her door, and she's unable to make out the expression on his face. The red eyes tell her he's been crying, but other than that, there's no indication that he's feeling anything at all. She falters for a minute, glancing down at the arms crossed around his chest and takes a deep breath. "Come in."

He stares at her for a minute before complying, looking every which direction but her. "I didn't know where else to go," he admits tiredly while stepping inside. "Weevil … wasn't very clear. He basically told me … that my … dad …" He stops suddenly, and rushes to the bathroom, and Veronica winces as she hears the tell-tale signs of him getting sick.

A few minutes later, he emerges, a hand to his mouth. "I guess my tolerance for vodka has suddenly plummeted. My mom would be so disappointed in me. You know that old saying: Practice, practice, practice," he sing-songs, retrieving the metal flask from his jacket pocket and taking a swig.

She stares at him behind hooded eyes, unable to reconcile this Logan in front of her to the one that she had been coming to know. Self-destructive behavior aside, the lanky boy in front of her is a completely different person, buzzing with an energy as yet unleashed, and she's not really sure how this night is going to play out. She notices the way he swallows, unaffected by the burn of alcohol, and it reminds her of her mother. She could do that, too – swallow entire bottles of ice cold vodka as easily as if it had really been spring water. "Did you drive here?" she asks, gently prodding the flask from his hand.

Logan watches her fingers on his, his brow slowly wrinkling as he notices the bandages. "What happened to you?" he asks suddenly, grabbing her wrist with his other hand. His eyes search out hers, and then he sees it: the purplish bruise blooming against pale skin right below her eye. "What happened?" he repeats, more forcefully this time, thumb brushing lightly over her cheek.

She lightly swaps his hand away, sucking in a breath and then letting it out slowly. "Nothing. Don't worry about it. It's over."

Logan looks at her hard, unbelievingly, and she knows she can't sugar-coat what happened anymore. So she tells him, quietly, and uneasily … everything. Everything that led up until her almost-fiery death. Duncan and her possibly sibling affair, the paternity test, when she realized she was wrong about Duncan's involvement in Lilly's murder.

When she's finished, he doesn't say anything for a full four minutes, eyes cast resolutely to the floor in front of him. She's doing her best to not stare at him. Bites down the impulse to ask him if he's alright. Because, really, how could he be, and that question's always seemed kind of trite to her anyway.

"I've gotta get out of here." And suddenly he's on his feet and heading toward the door.

"Logan. Don't. I don't think … you really shouldn't drive."

"Relax. You can save the public service announcement." He fishes around in his back pocket for a moment before producing his platinum card. "No limit. For the time-being, anyway. Might as well take advantage." He stares oddly at the credit card in his hand, and finally harrumphs. "What do you know? You really do want to take these things sky diving."

Veronica tilts her head at him questioningly. "Logan, you're not making sense. Just … stay here tonight. You shouldn't be alone."

"Oh, so now you're the expert on what I need to be doing right now?" He stares at her incredulously. "Not 12 hours ago, you thought I was the one who killed Lilly. You and your father did everything in your power to send me to jail. You think that that slipped my mind? That now that the family tragedy has unfolded, I need you to fix it and make it all better?" He takes a step closer to her, and she can smell the vodka like breathing poison emanating from him. "News flash, Veronica. I don't need you telling me what's best, or how I should be feeling, or whether or not I should be driving. I don't need you at all."

She tries not to let the sting of his words get to her, but it's been so long since she's been on the receiving end of his barbed remarks that it hurts just a little. "Fine. I get it. You're angry-" he snorts derisively, and she plugs on, "-and … all I can do is say that I'm sorry-"

"No." He shakes his head almost petulantly and plasters on a phony smile. "You don't get to say you're sorry. Because you're not. The truth is, you'd do it all over again."

"And wouldn't you!" She's suddenly angry, and it doesn't help that he's standing there looking at her as if she's completely lost her mind. "To finally know who killed your girlfriend, the girl you supposedly loved?"

For just a second, he's calm, eyes half closed as he regards her intently. Then he whirls to action, arm snapping back. She yelps and covers her face reflexively, but lets loose when she hears the metal flask make contact with the wall behind her. And then Logan's hands are on her shoulders, forcing her to face him.

"Supposedly loved! Lilly was my life. She was the best thing that ever happened to me." He takes a deep breath, eyes roving over hers before releasing her gently. "The only thing I'd do over," he continues, a little more quietly, "is … you. As in, never shoulda." He stares at her for a moment, a slight shrug and half-smile.

Veronica does her best to meet his eyes, take his punishment. Because, really, she deserves it. But the tears are coming hard and fast, and it's all she can do to stand there. And that's when he decides it's best to leave well enough alone, slipping out the door into the night air.

He blinks at her, momentarily taken aback. "Testifying?" he repeats.

She nods once, and glances up at him. "Evidentiary hearings. Just me, the judge, the lawyers, and … Aaron."

"So one big happy reunion then. Make sure to say 'hi' for me." He swivels around her and steps up to the pharmacist, hastily handing him the prescription. But she's right back next to him inside of a second, hand grabbing his arm and twirling him to face her.

"This isn't some joke, Logan. Your father's going to trial, and when he's found guilty, he's probably going to die."

"What the hell do you want from me!" He glances surreptitiously around him, and lowers his voice to an angry whisper. "You've informed me of your intent to testify, and I've responded. Message received. Now go. Away." She blinks at the last word, and for a moment, he feels a small amount of guilt creep in. Not enough to warrant an apology, though, so he pays for his prescription and saunters off.

"Where are you staying?" Her voice is quiet, and for the first time since running into her, he doesn't feel the need to verbally attack. Instead, he busies himself with twisting the top off the bottle and pouring its contents into the trashcan outside of the pharmacy. She raises an eye but doesn't comment.

"Well, I'll give you a hint. It's not the Four Seasons." He smiles lopsidedly, and she gives a little one of her own in return. "The court decided to place me in foster care. You know, just until I turn 18. Because foster care is a well-established environment of healing and tranquility." He grimaces as he fishes the bottle of Vicodin out from his back pocket and twists the cap off.

"Self-medicating also. Gee, Logan. You're the picture of emotional health." She watches as he switches out the pills into the prescription bottle and tosses the Vicodin.

"Wasn't I always," he quips, leaning back against the store front. Veronica steps to stand directly in front of him, eyes suddenly serious.

"Where's Trina?" she asks, hand gravitating gently to his arm. He stares at her hand on him, and can't help but notice a flicker of whatever that had been between the two of them take up permanent resident in his gut. He shuffles awkwardly and stares at something past her shoulder.

"Hell if I know. Maybe she just took off. Couldn't deal." He shrugs half-heartedly. "Not that I blame her. For once, she has the right idea."

Veronica chews on her lower lip for a minute, and he can almost hear the mental gears grinding. "Listen, I've gotta …" he trails off, and jabs his thumb in the general direction of his X-Terra.

She nods slowly, and removes her hand, and finds himself missing the warmth of it. It's been so long since anyone has touched him that he'd almost forgotten what it was like. And the fact that it's her, standing in front of him, real and not some distorted memory tainted by betrayal and mistrust makes it all so much more confusing. He decides to quit before he thinks to hard on the subject and starts to head to his car.

"I've missed you." It's so quiet, he almost thinks he's imagined it, but when he turns to see her, eyes a little hazy and planted firmly to the ground in front of her, he knows. He struggles a bit with what to do with that information, and finally settles for a question of his own, one he's sure to regret asking later, but can't seem to help himself regardless.

"Hey, Veronica." He waits until her eyes slide up to his before licking his lips and trudging on. "With us. You know. Was it always about finding Lilly's killer?"

He hasn't articulated the question in the way he wanted, but he knows she gets the meaning all the same. She drops her gaze, shakes her head slightly, and breathes out, "No." It seems like an eternity before her eyes meet his again, but when they do, there's something in her expression and he knows she's answering sincerely. But then everything's awkward again, and he's cursing himself for even wanting to ask her this, for needing it in the first place.

In the end, he decides to leave it for another day and smiles lackadaisically. "Well, I guess I'll see you around." And it's lame, and he knows it's lame, but he's been off his game for quite some time now as it is.

tbc ...