Title: I Wake Up to the Sound of Music

Rating: PG

Characters/Pairings: Logan (mentions of Aaron, Trina, Lynn, Dick, Duncan, Veronica, Little Lilly)

Spoilers: The entire series, from the pilot to the bitch is back.

Disclaimer: None of it is mine, and if it was it would have all been different. so don't sue, because I have nothing and it'd ba waste of both our time. The song is 'Let It Be' by the Beatles and I don't own that either. The title is from a line in the song.

A/N: This was written at the beginning of December but I didn't think it sounded right so I didn't post it right away and then promptly forgot about it. So I found it on my computer, went through and fixed it... so here it is.

I Wake Up to the Sound of Music

When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
Let it be, let it be
Let it be, let it be.
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

His chair was center stage and he clutching his guitar a little too tightly. A member of his band was behind him, sitting at the piano The single spotlight trained on him, he let his voice follow the words, the melody. It was raspy and smooth, a quality that was all his own, one that was strong and sure of itself. His voice had finally given him the voice he'd always the searched, the one that told the world what he felt and he made no apologies for. The one he'd longed for in his youth, when all they saw was his father.

If he was honest with himself, he was always destined for this, fame and fortune. For celebrity. Raised to be a star from his very first Vanity Fair photo shoot a mere two weeks after his birth. The Royal Family of Hollywood had been the tagline, announcing the birth of Logan Echolls to the world. Beautiful starlet Lynn Lester was a mom and the new Mrs. Aaron Echolls, famed movie-hero.

Of course his parents might have imagined he'd gain his destiny in film rather than on stage. The probably never figured him for a rockstar, but looking back it made sense. Logan had always been a rockstar, even if he hadn't realized his singing ability until he was nearly twenty-three. That was three years ago.

Three years ago, when he'd been in the darkest place in his life, someone had handed him a guitar and sheet music. Told him to learn, save himself.

There'd been no Veronica this time, he'd finally used up all his chances and all her strength. She couldn't do it anymore, watch him break down, fall to pieces until he was shattered all to bits. She couldn't pick him up from the bottom and put him back together, not anymore. No, Veronica had her own life to deal with and the fact that he had bought his own tumbling down again had proved to be too much.

He was in rehab six months later.

Logan could never keep himself together without Veronica, using her as a guidepost for all things moral and stable. Even when she wasn't stable herself, she still somehow always kept him from becoming the absolute worst version of himself.

He'd been there nearly two weeks without making any progress whatsoever, practically forced into the facility by an over-stepping lawyer and a somehow concerned Dick. Cliff had threatened to use the law against him, even if he had to bend it in order to get Logan some help. But it was Dick's solemn face staring up at him from the couch, telling him that he'd already lost one brother. A week later he admitted himself, voluntarily, into Cirque Lodge in Utah.

Two weeks in he was as surly as ever, but when his counselor handed him a notebook and told him to write it down, his first thought was that she'd auction it off. But it had proven to be surprisingly useful, but ultimately he could only write for so long, his words running into each other.

It had been his roommate that finally gave him the guitar as he left and Logan moved from a shared room to a private one. Tom had handed him the guitar and a book of Beatles sheet music, telling him to learn. That it would help, having a hobby. That it might help with his mood as well.

Logan had learned Let It Be in a week, playing it perfectly. It was his favorite Beatles song, one that rang true to his soul.

And when the broken hearted people
Living in the world agree,
There will be an answer, let it be.
For though they may be parted there is
Still a chance that they will see
There will be an answer, let it be.
Let it be, let it be
Let it be, let it be.
Yeah there will be an answer, let it be.
Let it be, let it be
Let it be, let it be.
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

The fans, the girls, crowded around him. He was always in the midst of a crowd now. Always. Never a moments peace.

His manager was always there, telling him where he should be getting booked. Where he should be playing. That he was a big star and had a lot on his mind, to let him handle all the details.

His agent told him about the opportunities. He could play this arena or that stadium. Madison Square Garden was an option, they'd just have to make the stage show bigger. More flash.

His accountant, a new one since the days of his youth and missing money and dwindling trust funds, was always telling him to slow down or let loose. Every other month he was told that he spent to much, that he should tone it down before the well ran dry. The next month he was encouraged to spend more, to buy things better suited to his situation. His star had risen high enough that he could have anything he wanted.

The girls giggled, and told him how beautiful he was. How he was the most beautiful man they'd ever seen. That his lyrics were so deep, meant so much, that they related and how they felt like they could see into his soul. He could have told them then that they couldn't, because if they had seen into his soul they would have walked out. His soul was dark, too dark for the bubblegum princesses that threw themselves at him.

His lawyer, no longer Cliff but no less smarmy, was constantly warning him about the girls. Had once given him a stack of documents, insisting that Logan have each girl sign it before sleeping with them. That they sign away any legal responsibility they may one day lay at Logan's feet for an unwanted pregnancy. He'd just rolled his eyes and shredded them, it wasn't like he was sleeping with any of them.

There was only one person in all of this that he wanted to speak to, hear from. The one person that had always made it better. But she wouldn't return his phone calls, not even after he got famous. Not after three years of fame and fortune and record-breaking album sales and concerts and tours and life. Veronica had remained stubbornly silent.

Let it be, let it be
Let it be, let it be.
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

There were only two names Logan ever bothered to put on the VIP lists, the ones that were automatically let backstage after mentioning their name and flashing some ID. Veronica Mars and Duncan Kane. Both had a plus one after their names, and Logan knew exactly who their plus ones would be. Wallace and Little Lilly.

Veronica would probably never come, never show herself to him. He'd lost track of her in the last three years. She'd left Neptune to join the FBI, training in Virginia first before being assigned to their office in New York City, after that he didn't know anything. He no longer had her phone number, but that hadn't stopped him from calling her father every week, asking him to have her call him back. He gave Keith his phone number every time and Keith told him he already had it, every time.

Logan had finally broke down and asked if Keith was even giving the messages to Veronica. He said he was, that if she didn't call then she wasn't ready. Logan took that as a sign that Keith thought that she might be ready some day. So he kept calling and kept leaving his number.

And she kept on not returning his calls. At least he'd found some sort of stability in her again.

And when the night is cloudy,
There is still a light that shines on me,
Shine on till tomorrow, let it be.
I wake up to the sound of music
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

The end of them had happened so fast that Logan always has a hard time remembering what exactly happened that shattered everything that they ever were. What the exact events were that lead to the fight to end all fights. What he said. What she said. What they said.

He'd just gotten a call from Trina two days ago, telling him all about the hero-worship movie she'd gotten made for daddy dearest. She wanted to warn him, a rare show of sisterly affection, that he wouldn't like it. It showed none of the alleged abuse he claimed to have suffered at their father's hand, nor did it highlight the supposed Lilly Kane affair, since no one had seen the tapes but a bunch of Lilly's seventeen year old friends including her best friend, her ex-boyfriend and her brother. Trina didn't think any of them were reliable.

Like Logan wanted to believe Lilly had sex with his father. It was almost as if she was saying that Veronica had made the story up and he'd just said: "That sounds like fun, let's go with that story and I'll play along."

He'd fought with Trina over it, calling her vapid and selfish. She'd called him a liar and said that he hated their father because he'd always favored her. Logan had agreed to that, Aaron had always favored Trina. She never got the bruises. He did.

In the end, Logan had hung up on Trina after vowing to get an injunction. That he'd tie her up in legal battles until Aaron Echolls' star had faded so much that no one would even care for a movie. They'd scrap her little project and daddy's shrine would go down in flames.

That was two days ago.

The call he'd gotten today made him regret the whole conversation he'd had with her. After all she had been his only living relative, blood or not she was his sister. The only family he had left in the entire world. She might not know him now but she'd been there while he grew up, she'd seen him as a baby and a toddler and all the years between then and now. And she was dead.

She'd been out celebrating the wrap of the shoot of The Aaron Echolls Story: Told By a True Insider. She hadn't been drunk, hadn't even got the chance to have her misguided celebratory glass of champagne. The driver of the other car had gotten an early start. A production assistant that had gotten off hours before Trina and her go-where-the-publicity-is friend, a Paris Hilton wannabe, had left their hotel room. Trina and the blonde had been heading out in a town car, driven around while they laughed in the back.

The PA had hit on Trina's side, killing her and himself instantly. The blonde had suffered, spending three hours in surgery before flatlining.

The news of Trina's death had been splashed all over TV before anyone made the attempt to contact Logan. It didn't matter though, he and Veronica had been in bed, the last thing on their minds was turning on E!News.

Logan had fallen apart after the phone call. Veronica had left early that morning for something, he hadn't paid attention when she woke him at an ungodly hour to say goodbye. She wasn't there when he got the news, hadn't been there that afternoon while he slowly made his way through the tequila.

She hadn't been there that night when Dick had come over and helped him through the Jack Daniels. But she'd shown up just in time to see him passed out on the floor, getting cold and dying of alcohol poisoning.

A trip to the hospital and one stomach pumping later they were back at his apartment. She had stayed with him for the next three days, making sure he was okay. But when he'd picked up the vodka to continue his taste-testing of all the alcohol currently within a five mile radius, she lost it.

They were screaming about drinking and drugging and random sex. She was yelling about Madison again and salt licks and what he was doing to himself. Her voice was getting so loud and tears were starting to stream down her face as she gathered up all the bottles of various amounts of alcohol and throwing them into the sink. The glass shattered and, along with the liquid previously inside the bottles, splashed out onto the kitchen floor. She cut her foot, but she didn't notice, and her blood was running in with the clear liquid of the rum and the vodka.

And he suddenly couldn't take it anymore.

He started yelling back. He couldn't control it anymore. He was accusing her of always choosing Duncan over him. Of forgiving Duncan for crimes he actually committed, she always blamed Logan for them and he'd never actually done any of it. For being so self-righteous and always thinking that she was right, for never letting him be right. He screamed at her for breaking his heart again and again and never caring what it did to him. He yelled at her for so many things that he wasn't sure when or why the word slut had come out.

But it did. He called her a slut, and he's never been sure what context it was that he had thrown it out in. Never had known what he meant by it.

It wasn't the worst thing he could have called, and he'd probably said worse things in the past. It was the principle of it though. It was a throwback to the old days. The days where he tortured her and bashed in her headlights and joked about her mother in front of his friends.

It was the heartless cruelty the word reminded her of that sent her out the door that night. And it was the same word that brought her back the next day to collect her things, telling him that she was leaving the next day and she thought it better if he didn't try to contact her.

It was the word that destroyed him.

Let it be, let it be
Let it be, let it be.
A there will be an answer, let it be.

Duncan would probably never come either. There were no statute of limitations on kidnapping, legislation got rid of them in 2000. He looked it up.

Logan had held onto the hope that he'd once again see his best friend. That some day soon, he'd get some sort of pardon and return home with his baby girl. Logan would pick up the newest Lilly Kane and she'd giggle and he'd simply state that all Lilly Kanes love him. He had it all planned out.

Veronica would come then. If Duncan were there and his baby with Meg was there. She'd come. She might come for DK, but she'd come and he'd see her, get a chance to beg for forgiveness. Get a chance to explain his actions and she'd look at him and tell him that she loved him and she didn't want to have to keep picking up his pieces and that they'd be okay. Or she'd turn around and walk straight into Duncan's arms.

Either way, whatever the outcome, he just wanted to tell her he was sorry. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry and he loved her and always would. That he hadn't meant it and he was hurting then and she could have been anyone.

That was a lie though. She couldn't have been anyone. He didn't lash out because she was there, he lashed out because she was Veronica. Logan had always felt the freedom to lash out at her, that she wouldn't take but give it back to him times ten. Then forgive him for it later.

She didn't this time and he just wanted her back in his life. He needed it.

Some days, when he was alone in the back of the bus with his notebook full of lyrics people would never see, he'd think about it. He'd dream that Duncan would return with Little Lilly and a beautiful woman on his arm. He'd come to Logan's concert, and on the off chance that Logan might still remember him, mention his name to the backstage guard. His wife wouldn't get through at first, but Logan would send someone to retrieve her as soon as Duncan found him.

They'd call Keith and tell him to tell Veronica that Duncan is back and at Logan's concert in Cleveland or Houston or wherever he was that night. She wouldn't call back, but she'd fly right up and they'd be at the hotel already. She'd know where they were, what room they were in and what the password was to get up there because she was Veronica Mars and knew everything. She knew everything, especially if it was one of Logan's secrets.

Veronica would knock on the door and Duncan would answer, knowing it was her. They'd hug and have a reunion, she'd meet Lilly and chat with the new Mrs. Kane. Duncan would say he had to get Lilly to bed and the little family would leave, go to their own room in their own hotel and leave Veronica with Logan.

They talk and she'd forgive him and they'd kiss and make love and be together again. They'd continue on with their epic romance, their classic tale of love and loss and tragedy. But mostly love.

He'd tell her that he was right, that they don't write songs about the ones that come easy. And he knows. He's written hundreds of songs about them. Then he'd take out that secret book of lyrics that he's never let anyone read and he'd hand it to her and let her read them. Tell her that he saved them up for her, kept them for her because they belonged to her and him and no one else.

Let it be, let it be
Let it be, let it be.
A there will be an answer, let it be.

Logan comes back to himself, sitting center stage singled out by the spotlight and guitar in his hands. The thoughts that cloud and overwhelm his mind as he sings the lyrics of a song that touches his soul fade away, into the dark corners of his head and heart.

He can make a few faces in the crowd. No one he knows, but usually he can't see anything in the glare of the giant light that's currently trained on him. He'll see spots for hours, the little spots of light that often occur when you look a light bulb before quickly looking away. But the faces in the crowd buoy his confidence in this particular performance.

It's not a song that you'll ever find on one of his albums, not even the live ones. He'll never buy the rights, he'll never sit in a recording studio and make it professional. It would ruin it. This is a one time thing, and there's not doubt in his mind that a bootleg recording of the concert will pop up on the internet the following day. It'll be his rare download, the one everyone wants and no one can get. But he sees the faces of the people in the audience, complete enraptured by the song. They sway from side to side, some of their eyes shut in order to hear the music better.

He loves this song and it makes him happy to share it with a generation that has likely forgotten it even existed.

As the last not falls out of his mouth, and he strums his last chord, the applause it thunderous. There are shouts and calls and screams and he's pretty sure that a pair of panties is going to be thrown on stage at any moment.

He doesn't bow. There's no need, this isn't the theater. He isn't completing some sort of drama. Or maybe in a way he is, coming full circle.

He sang this song, played this song first, when he was in the dark place that he could get out of. He clawed at the edges of that hole, fighting the whole way when all he had to do was yell for help.

And now he was singing it here, in a packed concert. It should be the high point, the light period that his life has entered. But it's not. He hasn't any family and what friends he does have he doesn't fully trust. They're fame friends, there when he's a bright and shinning star, but if something were to happen and his star should fade they'd be the first ones to go. Dick is the only one he counts on now, and he misses when there was someone else as well.

It was his last song. He'd finished the concert on a mellow note, something he didn't normally do. Usually he ended on a more up beat song, one that boosts the spirit and makes you smile. At least until you listen to the words. Really listen to them.

Logan doesn't write happy songs. He can't. You have to have a happy place to write a happy song. He doesn't write the music, but he's fine when the put his words to a beat that makes people smile and want to dance. It masks the pain and makes the song feel like it's even more his. That the songs are him, the little pieces of him that fell away long ago. The little pieces that he's still finding, one by one.

Logan walks off stage and passes off his guitar to his assistant, who immediately places it in its case and has a bodyguard walk it to the bus. It'll stay in the hotel room with him and then on his bus. It won't be packed away with everything else, it'll get placed in a special holding mount on his bus so he make sure nothing happens to it. His guitar, the one thing that saved him after the love of his life left.

Everyone is looking at him now, and he doesn't know why. This is the way things usually are after the concert ends. He makes sure his baby is secure and safe first thing. Then he grabs his bottle of water, which is currently clutched in his right hand, and drinks as he makes his way to the meet-and-greet room.

He has many duties as a rockstar, and shaking hands and hugging and signing things are some of them. Keeping your fans happy is one of the most important things, because if they're not happy they don't buy. And if they don't buy, you don't sell, and if you don't sell then you get dropped and fade away.

The meet-and-greets are boring, no longer a novelty and something he finds fun. He's tired and lonely and bored and he just wants to go back to his dressing room and shower and change and get to the hotel. He'd crawl into an unfamiliar bed and fall into a sleep that never seemed to be enough. He slept better on the bus now.

Walking through another room, one set up for a party that his back up guitarist and keyboardist and drummer all loved to participate in, he set off for the maze of dressing rooms that led to his own. He was usually in the front, but in this particular venue, the largest 'prep room' was in the back.

Along the way he passed a security guard, one that was usually at a guard post, making sure no one snuck past security to get in on the party. But even he got breaks, switching every other hour with another security guard that guarded the party itself. The guard looked at him funny and smiled, and Logan had the distinct impression that he was being hit on.

Walking around the corner, he found his dressing room. Logan Echolls, it said on the door in big bold letters. There was a smaller gold, foam star with his name written on it taped up a foot lower than the bold sign. One of his back up singers had made it, said that he seemed old school, like his name should be on a star. Like in the old movies.

Twisting the knob and pushing the door open, Logan revealed Veronica sitting on his dressing room couch, legs crossed neatly at the ankle. She looked up and let a soft smile grace her face, making it glow even more.

"I've been waiting for you." He told her, closing the door behind him.

Let it be, let it be
Let it be, let it be,
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

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