Title : It Don't Come Easy
Length : 1/3
Rating : PG13-ish
Disclaimer : I own nothing, I make no profit. Rob Thomas and The CW are the big cheeses.
Spoilers : Up to S3 - "There's Got to be a Morning ..."

Summary : In my world, Logan and Veronica never stay apart for very long.

His story begins with the slamming of a door.

-- Logan --

He hated that his first instinct the moment the door slammed shut behind her was to pick up the closet bottle on the bar. He didn't even look at what the pint was of. He just twisted the cap off, stared at it blankly for a moment, and tossed it across the room, then tipped the bottle to his lips. He drained the bottle, without stopping. The searing burn of the liquor as it went down distracted him from the pain building in his chest.

He gasped for breath as the burn faded, hot tears streaking down his face. A fierce roar came from him as he threw the empty bottle across the room with violent force. It exploded against the far wall with a loud crash, pieces of it skittering all over the floor.

He stood staring at the shards of glass. Shattered. That was how he felt. That was the look in her eyes when she asked him to make it not true. They were like the glass now glinting in the dim light here and there on the floor. Too broken to ever be put back together.

With that thought, the pain in his chest throbbed. He reached for the next bottle in line. Another drink. More liquor to drown the pain. He liked to call this 'Liquid Therapy'. If he drank enough, which was the plan, he would pass out. Then he wouldn't feel It. Tearing at him from the inside, trying to gnaw it's way out.

Over and over in his head he heard her words and saw her face. Eyes shining with betrayal, lip trembling. Anger. Sorrow. Shattered.

He hated himself. He knew it was only a matter of time before this day would come. The day that she would uncover the one 'wart' she couldn't see past. He had brief fleeting anger wondering how she had found out. No one knew. No one. Except that filthy whore, of course. He was sure that whore had taken great pleasure in telling Veronica.

The memory of that night in Aspen was one he often tried to forget ever happened. It sickened him. He had been so drunk, so alone and so completely destroyed that when Madison started to undress him, he didn't stop her. It was like he wasn't in his body any longer, but detached and watching from a distance. He had just turned his eyes away while it happened and figured that this was rock bottom looked like.

He tipped the bottle to his lips with a bitter laugh. He now had a completely new view of rock bottom. Having Veronica back for the last few weeks, it had been a high. She was an addiction for him. Everything about her intoxicated him - mind and body - she was his drug.

Another bitter laugh, another sip from the bottle. Now he was a junkie without a drug. There was no substitute.

'Only another drink ... keep to the plan, Echolls.' he thought.

An hour later the plan was in full effect. He had emptied the second bottle and was nursing a third. He wanted to get really, really drunk - not end up dead of alcohol poisoning. 'Liquid Therapy' was all about the pacing. He had made it into his room and was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. It was coming, he could feel it - the darkness that would give him some peace. His glossy eyes started to close slowly.

He didn't find the darkness he seeked though. His tears still slipped out the corner of his eyes, nothing was stopping the pain from eating away at him. Her face haunted him.

When Logan next opened his eyes, he could see that the sky was starting to lighten outside his window. Another day was coming. Logan's head throbbed, his eyes felt like there was sand in them. He didn't want to face another day.

He sat up quickly, a little too quickly. The room spun and he had to hold his head in both hands for a moment till it passed. When he finally got to his feet, he staggered to the living room for another bottle. He actually took the time to read the label. Captain Morgan Rum. Taking a big swig, he mused to himself that he had always enjoyed sailing with the Captain.

As he took a few gulps from the bottle, he knew that it wasn't working. He could keep drinking, but nothing would stop the thoughts that kept running through his head.

The loss he felt.

Knowing that it was bound to happen – he'd hoped that he could've held on to her a little longer. But trying to hold on to Veronica was like riding a roller coaster without the safety bar. An exciting, terrifying challenge –but eventually you're going to be throw off and left behind broken from the fall.

--- TBC ---