2006 Neptune Grand

She wandered around the room, trying to remember why she was there. The place reeked of memories with Duncan, but she wasn't in the mood to wallow over them. She sure as hell wasn't there to enjoy Madison's quick wit or Dick's creepy leers. Wallace and Jackie could have just taken her invitation and come on their own. Besides, they had just hit the door anyway, other things on their minds than dancing.

She leaned against a wall, contemplating why she wasn't on the way out the door as well, when suddenly a warm body stood in front of her.

"Alone again," came that all-too-familiar voice, and his words, few as they were, made her want to cry.

"Naturally," she replied, wanting to be anywhere but standing there with him. She didn't really feel up for a fight.

"I, uh, I know the feeling." And it seemed neither was he as he leaned on the wall next to her. The champagne bottle in his hand didn't look nearly full, and she didn't know whether to laugh or to shake her head at him.

"You?" she asked instead. "Host of the greatest private replacement prom ever?"

He smiled at that and took a good, long swig. It was real smile, a genuine smile, but there was something else in it too. She didn't want to see what it was.

So she went for cutting instead, "I'm sure you could have your pick of the bimbos." When he didn't say anything, she did what she did best and changed the subject. "I really like this song."

Suddenly he felt too close, and she sat on the table to put some space between them. She didn't like what she felt when she was close to him. It was too familiar. He, of course, didn't seem to get the message because he straddled the table next to her, bringing himself into her space again.

When he spoke, the very sound of it shocked her. She wasn't used to this softer Logan. She hadn't seen him for a long time. "You know, I'm surprised, Veronica. And as a keen observer of the human condition, I thought you saw through people better than that."

It confused her—the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice, the things he was saying. This wasn't the Logan she'd known this past year, and that scared her too.

"Bimbos?" he questioned, looking at her like she should know better. "That's not me anymore."

"So what are you like now?"

"You know. Tortured." His response was almost comical, but she couldn't make herself laugh at him. "Ever since I had my heart broke." And then she felt like she couldn't breathe again.

It took everything in her not to choke on the words. "Hannah really did do a number on you, huh?"

And his answer just about made her cry. "Come on, you know I'm not talking about Hannah."

OOOOOOOO

He sat next to her on the table, trying to keep his eyes on any one thing. It was difficult, staying focused when the champagne was coursing through his veins. He'd had one too many bottles, and it would probably hurt like hell in the morning, but just then he didn't care in the least. Veronica was sitting next to him.

And what was coming out of his mouth was bound to hurt in the morning too, but he couldn't make himself care about that either. Because Veronica was sitting next to him.

"I thought our story was epic, you know? You and me." Part of him knew he should keep his mouth shut when he was drunk, but without the buffer of a bottle at least, he also knew he would never say anything.

"Epic how?" she asked, and he didn't want to hear fear in her voice, so he didn't. He took another drink instead.

In every way possible, flashed through his mind, but what he said was, "Spanning years and continents. Lives ruined, bloodshed, epic." Yeah, that was definitely them. "But summer's almost here. And we won't see each other at all. Then you'll leave town then...it's over." The thoughts had been killing him lately, without the distraction of Hannah or, heaven help him, Kendall.

"Logan..."

He couldn't let her stop him now. If he didn't get it out now, he never would and she would leave without knowing. "I'm sorry. About last summer." He saw her surprise and he knew he was getting emotional, but to hell with all of it. "You know, if I could do it over..."

She looked a little scared again, and he hated himself for it, but he couldn't bring himself to care. When she tried to lighten everything, shrugging and saying, "Come on. Ruined lives, bloodshed? You really think a relationship should be that hard?" he felt like he could die.

But he knew the answer anyway. "No one writes songs about the ones that come easy."

And then he could feel her skin and her breath and the world seemed a little clearer. It cleared for a moment and a half before he tried to kiss her and she ran out the door.

The next morning, he woke up and couldn't remember his own name, never mind what he'd said to make her love him again.

A/N: As I said, this has been a hoot and a half to write. It took a bit of research and I must have used about a hundred internet resources to get the languages down and the historical facts straight, but it was so totally worth it.