Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me and in fact I own nothing and am judgment proof. The title of this chapter is courtesy of TS Eliot.

Chapter One

Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels

It was hard to breathe. The night kept pressing in on him and he just couldn't breathe. His heart felt like it was slowing contracting in on itself. He felt like dying. Was it possible to drown in your bed?

Logan carefully got out of bed, carefully to avoid waking Parker sleeping beside him.

He walked to the bar and took out some scotch. It was her favorite drink. He loved tasting it on her tongue when she would give him slightly drunk kisses which always led to other sensuous pleasures. In their relationship they had frantic kisses, hot and hard sex against the door, but Logan always appreciated those slightly drunken kisses the most. They were slow and languorous. He always felt he could kiss her forever and never take a breath. That would have been his chosen method of death. Suffocation and to pillowed eternally on her lips.

Only in remembering her lips and her legs wrapped around him could he take that breath that his lungs desperately wanted and needed to live another moment.

Was it wrong of him to yearn for another blonde when he had a perfectly gorgeous and loving blonde in his bed?

No, of course not. He was male after all. Only it wasn't the typical thoughtless masturbatory dreams of a woman with all the right curves and a talented tongue. No, it was his neverending craving for her. The one who was epic. The one who all women were measured against and failed to satisfy.

Veronica Mars.

Logan said her name aloud, mouth and tongue caressing the syllables and remembered when he would come screaming it, remembered when she put her hand in his and he would whisper it against her skin, remembered when he first said it and knew that she was the one.

He took that first sip of scotch. It burned down his throat. But it was a good burn. Not like the cigarette burns on the couch or on his back. No it was that burn that kept you warm on a cold night.

Speaking metaphorically of course because after all it was southern California and it didn't really get that cold at night and well he was rich and had blankets.

It was the inside the body cold. It was the chill in the bones when he learned his mother was really dead and wasn't coming back. It was the frost on his mind when he learned that his father had fucked his girlfriend and killed her. It was the ice that clamped around his heart when he learned that Veronica Mars was dead.