Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

part 1

He joined the end of the food court checkout line, and, just like that, he made her morning. She kept all the girly feelings on the inside; she was sure no one could even tell that she knew he'd shown up. That brief glimpse she'd gotten of him while she advanced to second place in the checkout line had brought at the same time a balm to her spirit and an upswelling of joy to her heart. She planted her feet on the floor so they wouldn't move of their own volition. The smile she couldn't keep from turning up the corners of her lips she hid by looking at her shoes. Then it was her turn to check out and she had another distraction to cover her emotions. Her life had turned into a series of distractions, one after the next in an endless line like a winding coastal highway, meandering next to the ocean while making casual stops along the way, anything to avoid the destination.

Nothing had changed over the summer: not her dad's employment status, not her career plans, not her romantic situation. For once, everything was steady, and she was doing everything she could to keep it that way, including staying with Piz even though Logan's appearance in the food court was what would end up getting her through the day.

He had seen her blond hair the second he stepped through the doorway of the food court. He always scanned the room for her, every room he walked into, on the off chance that they would be in the same place at the same time, so those few and far between times they were almost breathing the same air felt like tiny triumphs. That bright hair was like a silk banner in a breeze, and he had to stop himself, as he always did, from crossing the room in a few quick strides to be next to her and draw his hand through that silk. He deliberately made his way to the end of the line she was standing in, the closest he would get to her today. Even if she knew he was there, she wouldn't turn around, wouldn't look at him or acknowledge his presence, not in front of everyone in the middle of the food court. Not once since he'd fought for her honor at the end of last year had she initiated contact with him.

He supposed she was punishing him for overstepping his bounds, but he'd really thought that once she'd had all summer away from Neptune to cool down, she would come back to school and they would go back to their normal repartee. Classes had started two weeks ago and she had yet to speak a word to him. He had caught her eye on the first day back, walking across the quad in between classes, and for the brief time their eyes had met, he could have sworn she forgave him for everything. Then he saw a change of expression appear on her face, like shutters closing across a window, and since then there had been nothing. He hated that. Her fury and disdain were infinitely more appealing than this absence of everything he identified with who she was. He had made a deal with himself to try and wait her out, but he wasn't sure he could keep it. If he didn't get to look in her eyes soon and see for himself that she was either done with him forever, or not, he would be breaking that deal.

part 2

"Hey, how was class?" Veronica was startled back to reality as Piz joined her at the food court table where she'd been sitting.

"Class was good. How was your show?" Piz was still doing a talk show for the campus station, but they had at least scheduled the show for later in the day this year. It was a perk of being a sophomore, apparently.

"Well, this one guy called in to talk about the tuition hike, and..." Piz's voice trailed off in her head as her thoughts returned inward. She tried to make sure she nodded and responded to Piz appropriately while he told his story, but she was thinking about the T-shirt Logan had been wearing that morning, her favorite of his, the green one she wore to sleep in sometimes.

"...so this tool just can't stop going on and on about..." Piz was on a roll, she noticed when she checked back into the conversation. Something must have really gotten him wound up; he normally caught her daydreaming long before this. Sometimes she was glad he was a little blind to her flaws. He really did think she was wonderful, she mused incredulously, even though she had trouble paying attention to him occasionally and she had been less than demonstrative toward him physically since she got back from her internship. Why hadn't he tried to take things to the next level with her yet? She looked at his animated face while he talked, even while tuning out his words. He was cute, she admitted, in a clean-cut-meets-slightly-quirky way. He did have a nice body, what she remembered seeing of it, at least. It just wasn't...

"Veronica?"

"Hmmm? Sorry, there's this paper for Profiling that the professor just announced today, and I'm already stressing about it," she lied easily, then vowed to herself to concentrate wholly on Piz for the rest of their meal together. It was a task easier intended than accomplished, she found, and she continued to have trouble focusing on Piz. She kept thinking about Logan, and the glance of him she'd caught earlier. Even as she was not willing to let herself admit that she thrived on those seconds of proof that he was there and he was doing all right, she needed that confirmation like she needed to breathe. If she knew Logan was continuing on in a normal, non-destructive fashion, then she could, too. She really had no reason to upset the status quo.

He watched her sitting across from him, trying to pay attention, and he just kept talking, words upon words leaving his mouth. He didn't even know what he was saying any more; she certainly didn't. Things had been different since she'd gotten back from her internship. She went through the motions, but it was like her smiles didn't quite reach her eyes like they used to, or she didn't smile slyly down at her lap like she once did when he reached out for her hand while they studied side by side. She seemed to merely tolerate him. That was almost worse than her just breaking up with him and getting it over with. He wasn't anywhere near ready to give up on the chance that he was sure they had to make things really special between them again, though, so he could wait it out if she was having doubts. He would just be here for her if she needed him, and try to keep things normal for both of their sakes.

This was torture. Watching the two of them sit across from each other and talk like a normal happy little couple was almost more than he could stand. He got up to throw out his trash and return his tray so he could walk away from the spectacle. He had just put his tray on top of the stack when his phone beeped to remind him of his date that afternoon. At least Heather would only bust his balls about Super Mario Kart. Dick was, as expected, bitching at him to get over it, and thankfully, he wasn't really talking regularly with anyone else who knew all that much about his and Veronica's history. He saw Mac in passing occasionally, and she gave him these glances that he interpreted as "sorry, but Veronica got me in the divorce, and since you and Parker broke up, there's no reason for me to talk to you that won't make me feel like a traitor." A lot for one short moment of eye contact, but he was sure that's what she would say if she'd actually try to speak to him.

Speak of the devil, there was Mac now, on her way in to the food court as he left. Probably headed right to Veronica. He nodded at her, and she smiled and walked past. At the last possible second that he would still be able to see the three of them before he left the food court, he turned back to look. Veronica smiled as Mac approached, and he couldn't stop the thought: that should be me with them, not Piz. Then he continued on down the hallway and outside onto the quad, feeling at odds with the bright mid-morning sun.

part 3

Mac approached their table, and Veronica let out a sigh of relief that Piz would have a whole other person to concentrate on so it wouldn't be quite so obvious if her mind started to wander. Mac draped the strap of her bag over the back of a chair at the table.

"I'm starved; I'll be right back. Anybody need anything?" she offered. Veronica smiled and shook her head 'no' even as she thought, a memory transplant; can you get me one of those from food services? Maybe if she could just forget about Logan all together, she could be happy with Piz, blissfully ignorant to what she was missing. But she remembered; her mind wandered yet again as she remembered every touch, every kiss, from that first tentative chaste peck on the balcony of the Camelot that turned quickly into a fiery, consuming, in-spite-of-themselves embrace that was at once both escape and refuge, to what was to be their last kiss, even though she didn't know it at the time, that hasty goodbye before impulsively going lingerie shopping the day Madison Sinclair had rubbed it in her face that she'd been with Logan in Aspen while they were broken up. If she had known in advance that was to have been the last one, in spite of the whole Madison angle, she would have managed to make it mean more, would have somehow communicated to Logan how he had become the touchstone of her life up to that point. First it had been Lilly she'd relied on as a companion and sounding board, then Duncan had been her first real boyfriend, and through those years Logan had been there right alongside them, but after Lilly and Duncan had both left, only he had remained, her life raft on the ocean of so many of those stormy occurrences during and after high school. And he had changed since it had been the four of them against the world, she had witnessed it for herself; hell, she hoped that, to some extent, she had encouraged some of the changes for the better. At least she had left him better off than she had found him. He was better off now, wasn't he? He didn't have to constantly work to prove himself to her or watch what he did for fear he would drive her away. He didn't have to deal with her moods or her secrecy or her jealousy. He could look at her with Piz and see that she was leading a nice, straightforward life, relatively danger-free, even, and hopefully just go on with his own life in the same manner.

He watched Logan leave the food court and saw Veronica relax perceptibly. She wasn't even watching him; how'd she know when he was gone? It was like she was preternaturally attuned to Logan's presence. He had surprised her when he'd approached her a few minutes ago; there was no way she felt him coming and going unless her eyes were directly on him. He attributed it to the long and storied history the two of them shared. In a few years, she would be the same with him.

Logan paced back and forth in front of the TV in his suite. Heather still hadn't logged on for their weekly online "date," and she was over half an hour late. She was never late; she was usually already online when he logged in. He tried not to worry, but this was so unlike her, and he had pretty much become accustomed to having the unlikely worst-case-scenario end up being the reality.

He kept checking the screen, willing her username to pop up. He tortured himself like that for another half hour before he broke down and admitted he was ready to try a much worse kind of torture. It wasn't like he had never done it before. He got his phone from the coffee table and started to compose a text.

part 4

Upon hearing the beep from her phone that meant she had a new text message, she looked away from the Profiling class notes she'd been reviewing in the quad and checked her phone. Four little words: "I NEED YOUR HELP." From Logan.

While she stared at the simple text, she considered that one of the lesser-mourned ill effects of the electronic age was the reality that while one could delete a text message from one's phone, one could not quite delete it from one's brain. If one was unlucky, it stayed, leaving a negative-color impression on the inside of one's eyelids, the hangover of a plea reverberating long after it had been obliterated from cyberspace.

I NEED YOUR HELP.

So she had a choice: reply or ignore, respond and potentially (she was afraid) change her life forever or continue on in this current boring manner. What will you choose, Veronica Mars? The phone display taunted her.

I NEED YOUR HELP.

She readied her finger to press "delete," hovered above it for several seconds, then quickly pressed "reply" and sent a text to Logan: "where are you?" all the while feeling like she was making a terrible mistake but continuing on anyway. It didn't take long for his reply to come through: "MY SUITE-CAN YOU COME OVER?"

In her mind, she ran through all of the excuses she could use to avoid this. I have class, I'm meeting Piz, I'm meeting Dad for dinner, working in the library, study group, God, anything. Nothing sounded convincing enough, not even in her head. So she decided to take the bait and see what he needed her help for, and returned the text with her own, "10 minutes," then packed up her books and walked across the quad to where she'd parked her car that morning.

He released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when he got Veronica's text and knew she was on her way. Now all he had to do was get her to help him for just a few minutes and hopefully track Heather down right away, nothing would be wrong, and they could go back to the completely separate lives they were currently leading. Right this moment, he actually wanted that, because that would mean that Heather was okay, that he was freaking out for nothing.

At least she was coming here. She was going to be here right in front of him and he would get the chance to see for himself if he was out of her life for good or just for now. It was too bad he'd had to ask for her help to get her here. He supposed that was the only way it would've happened.

part 5

She was stalled outside the door to his suite. She couldn't make herself knock just yet; she felt like the second her knuckles rapped on his door, everything she'd tried so carefully to cultivate would fall apart. Seeing him out of the corner of her eye every now and then by chance was very different from coming to see him in his suite. If she let Logan seep back into the edges of her life, history told her that it wouldn't be long before he was front and center, that his face was the image that would be burned onto her retinas, blinders up to all else. She closed her eyes at the thought, telling herself that she was stronger than that, that she had a good thing going now and she was going to do what it took to keep the normalcy in place, and knocked on the door so she could get this over with and get back to her happy routine as quickly as possible.

Almost immediately, he opened the door. His brow was furrowed, and his hair looked like he'd run that hand through it a million times; some things never changed.

"What's wrong?" she asked, cutting to the chase immediately, both for the sake of getting to the leaving all that much sooner and to help him fix whatever had him so obviously dismayed.

"Hello to you, too," he sniped, another classic sign of him being upset.

"You needed my help, not the other way around." Wow, how quickly it was disintegrating. Maybe she should turn right around and leave now.

The hand plowed through the hair.

"Sorry...I did, I do. Come in," he moved out of the doorway to let her enter the suite. Nothing had changed there, either, she noted as she scanned the room. "Do you remember Heather, Dick's little sister-in-law for like a nanosecond?"

"The tween who was wearing my shirt and tried to reconcile us with a radio dedication? Vaguely."

"She's...missing. I think. I play Super Mario Kart online with her every single week, and she's never late, and today she still hasn't shown up, even though I keep checking, and I don't want to call her sister or either of her parents cause what if I'm blowing this whole thing way out of proportion?" He was really freaked out, she thought. It was sort of strange that he had this weekly game with a young girl, but also sort of sweet at the same time. Not to mention this was starting to bring back a few of her less pleasant memories of his tendency to overreact about people not being where he thought they should be.

"So what do you want me to do?" She was a little confused as to why he thought she could be the one to help him in this situation. She wasn't even convinced yet that there was a situation with which to help him.

"Can you call her house and pretend to be some kid from her class or something, just see if she's there so I can know for sure?"

"Yeah. I can do that." He handed her a slip of paper with a phone number on it, written in his handwriting.

"I already got the number from information." He looked at her anxiously and she lost no time in dialing the number on her phone. An adult female picked up after one ring. "Heather?!" That was not a good sign, she thought. It looked like Logan might be right to be worried.

"Um, no, this is Kaylynn? From Heather's class?" She hoped the 'question at the end of every sentence' inflection still said 'twelve-year-old' as much as it always had. Logan nodded slightly, approving of her tactics when she used them to get what he wanted. "I have a question about some homework? Can I talk to Heather?"

The woman sighed. "Heather's not home right now," she said, and Veronica picked up on the small catch that crept into her voice at the end of her sentence.

"Okay, I'll call back later? What time will she be home?"

"Oh...I don't know sweetie," the woman said, obviously trying not to alarm the person she thought was a twelve-year-old girl. "Will you, um, will you tell her to call home if you talk to her?"

"Okay, I can do that," Veronica said truthfully, softening her act. She ended the call and looked up into Logan's agonized face. "Well, she is definitely not at home, and I am pretty sure her mom thinks she should be." His face fell, crumpled, almost. Was she missing something about how close he was to Heather? "Look, she's probably fine, just went home with some friend and forgot to tell her parents; remember, I used to do that all the time with Lilly, and Dad would call looking for me? Which one of her friends do you think she's with? How well do you know her routine?" Even as she spoke, her spidey sense was tingling. Both Logan and the girl's mother were worried. Is this how he was when he used to worry about me? she wondered, this near-breakdown state and apparent inability to concentrate on anything else? She doesn't have any friends at her new school. Her parents split up and her mom moved her a couple towns further away and she switched schools and the girls there are mean and wear bras." He looked so earnest talking about preteen underwear that she had to press her lips together to keep from smiling. "What?" he asked defensively. "You're the one who always wants to know everything."

"Nothing, it's just...nothing."

"Her parents got divorced and her sister and Dick dumped her here for a weekend to go live out their little elopement fantasy and taking care of her a little gave me something to do besides feel sorry for myself, and yeah, she was an annoying preteen girl at first, but then she wasn't, she was just a kid nobody wanted. So we hung out, and they're pumping her full of antidepressants, and she logs on every week..." He ran out of steam. "She probably just ran out away. Who would blame her?"

"Well, say she did," Veronica suggested gently. It would be better than several of the alternatives. "Where do you think she would go?"

"I don't know. I thought you be able to help figure that out."

"Logan, she's twelve years old. I can't exactly put an alert on her credit cards."

"Or a Lojack on her Range Rover."

She rolled her eyes at him, then shook her head and gathered up her bag to leave.

"You're right, okay? I don't know why I asked you for help."

"Really? You didn't think this help you needed would maybe make me feel a little nostalgic? Maybe you wanted to remind me of all the good times I had helping you out." The sarcasm oozed from her voice.

"You know, the past year or so, at least, I seem to remember you being the one who needed the help. Just not from me." He watched her face for a few seconds as his words sank in. "Yeah, think back. I actually haven't been the one needing the lawyer or the last minute rescue or that special investigative voodoo that you do so well. How many times did you get roofied last year?"

"Wow. None by you, for once, so I'm not surprised you don't remember."

"Veronica--" he started, sounding like he knew he had gone too far.

"No, don't. Let's talk about what you've been doing lately. You've moved on to beating the shit out of anyone you think has wronged me. Mercer, Gory Sorokin, Piz?"

"All right, so Piz didn't deserve it, but those other two assholes absolutely did. I'm not going to apologize for it."

"So it's okay to beat people up if they deserve it?"

"Is it okay to blackmail people if they deserve it, Veronica?" Ooh, he was so infuriatingly smug when he thought he was right. She adjusted her bag on shoulder and turned towards the door. She took a couple of steps and then stopped.

"Call me if there's anything I can actually do to help find Heather. Her parents and the police will probably be fine without me," she fired off over her shoulder and then left the suite. She had to get out of there, away from Logan and all the memories and accusations. He felt helpless, she got that, but there wasn't anything she could do. Why had she even come over? It was like they'd both regressed by a couple years, back to that time when they'd been more comfortable hating each other than dealing with the implications of any other type of relationship. And while some of that time had been enjoyable, now was really so much better. Wasn't it?

part 6

Logan couldn't stay contained in his suite any longer. After hours of nearly constant checking to see if Heather had logged in, and hours of constantly being disappointed when she still hadn't, he was ready to explode. It was so late that she should be asleep anyway; she would be if she were somewhere safe. A million scenarios were playing on a loop in his head, a million bad things that could have happened to a twelve-year-old girl, some of them he had seen happen to a sixteen-year-old girl and she had come through it all right...

The not knowing, the waiting, those were what was driving him crazy. He grabbed his keys and wallet, stalked out of the suite and down the hallway, taking the elevator down to the parking garage.

Once he was driving, his mind continued to wander, his body automatically going through the mechanics of driving, stopping at lights when he was supposed to, his thoughts racing instead.

At one stoplight, he looked down at the console to turn the stereo volume up, and when he looked up at the intersection again, his headlights illuminated Veronica's Saturn as it crossed his path from left to right. Not thinking it through, following the flash of her blond hair like a ship follows a lighthouse beacon, he turned right after her when the way was clear. When he realized intellectually that he was going to be following Veronica Mars, Licensed P. I., he considered just how much she would yell at him if she caught him, then he continued on behind her car anyway, keeping as much distance between them as he could while still keeping her in sight. He also thanked his lucky stars he'd switched to driving this nice nondescript black vehicle instead of the very obvious X-Terra.

So what if she yelled at him? It was better than ignoring him, better than more of that nothing since late spring. The interchange they'd had earlier was the most alive he'd felt in months, not to mention it had probably kept him from calling Heather's house himself and setting himself up for yet another round of unsubstantiated felony charges, this time involving kidnapping or indecent liberties with a minor or some other nonsense Van Lowe would come up with just because he could. Oh, or better yet, charges in multiple counties because Heather lived a few towns over. They would probably get around to looking at her internet history sooner rather than later, if she didn't show up soon...

He made himself pay closer attention to Veronica's car as they got closer to the PCH. He wondered exactly what she was doing driving around this late. She hadn't stopped anywhere; it looked like she was doing the same thing he was, just driving around aimlessly. He knew what his excuse was, what was hers?

Ahead of him by many yards still, she came to a particularly treacherous stretch of the PCH known as "Death By Water." He was surprised when Veronica sped up and careened around the first tight, winding curves, advancing faster than he did, but navigating the road expertly, like she'd driven this stretch of road before, perhaps often. He would have expected the James Dean tour of the PCH from himself, but watching Veronica propel her car recklessly through the night was disconcerting. Maybe she'd seen him following her and she was trying to lose him.

He continued on for a couple of miles after he'd stopped seeing the red of her taillights, thinking about Heather, and Veronica, and feeling powerless to keep the both of them out of harm's way.

Suddenly, as he came out of a broad curve, Veronica's car appeared, parked on the shoulder, parking lights on. He wondered if he should stop; what if she was having car trouble? It wasn't like he had a paring knife he could loan her, but he did have Triple A. He decided to drive past and see what was going on, pretty sure his presence was about to be discovered, if it hadn't been already. He slowed down and looked out his passenger window as he passed her car, expecting to see a face full of righteous anger, but instead he saw a blond head bent over so her forehead rested on the steering wheel, slim shoulders shaking from her cries. She very obviously did not know she'd followed him.

He kept driving, and every tick of his odometer took him further away from her. As much as he wanted to turn around and open up her car door and gather her up in his arms as he had done on a couple of agonizingly memorable occasions, he didn't. He kept going, knowing that he wasn't who she would want to come to her rescue. If she would let anyone save her, it wouldn't be him.

Chapter Text

part 7

When her alarm clock went off, Veronica was entirely unprepared to get out of bed. She hit snooze and rolled over, feeling the waves of the waterbed under her, then took a deep breath to try and get herself going. When that didn't work, she tried to think herself into action, cataloguing all that she had to get done that day. The size of her to-do list just made her hit snooze again when the alarm went off. She switched to lying on her other side and tried the opposite tactic, clearing her mind of everything. That backfired also, since she could get rid of all the clutter, but she couldn't get rid of Logan and the fight they'd had the night before. After she'd walked out of his suite, she'd sat in her car for several minutes, trying to stop being furious. She'd started driving, intending to go home, but ending up wandering around on the PCH again. Most nights over the past couple of weeks, she had felt a need to be out of her room at night when there was no more coursework to do, nothing left to distract her from her growing realization of how miserable she actually was. All of the angry words back and forth with Logan last night had brought that sharply to the forefront and thrown all of her mistakes back in her face. She'd had to pull over, and for a minute she had been worried she would have to call Mac to come drive her home. She couldn't have called Piz; he was partially the reason she felt like she was on the verge of a complete breakdown instead of a temporary one. She didn't want to break up with him. She just wanted to like him more. She wanted him to be...more. She wanted him to yell at her when she blackmailed people. Which she wasn't going to do anymore, anyway, because this time she really was trying to stay on the straight and narrow. If she had only listened to her dad, and, earlier, to Logan, she wouldn't have broken into the Kanes' house for that damn hard drive and her dad would probably be Sheriff again. The summer away from the Mars Investigations office had softened the sting a little, but being back in Neptune and seeing the evidence every day of how much she'd screwed up was overwhelming sometimes. At least if Heather was really missing, that was one thing that wasn't her fault.

She sat up. She should check her phone. She'd put it on silent last night on the elevator ride down in the Neptune Grand, just in case Logan got the urge to call her. Now she actually hoped his smug voice would be on her voice mail telling her she was right about Heather and she'd been with some other prepubescent girl and lost track of time, all's well that ends well.

She slid out of bed and retrieved her phone from her bag on the floor, then sat back down on her waterbed. One new voice mail...3 texts from Piz (a "good morning," a "breakfast?" and a "WAKE UP!!" Jeez, it wasn't that late.) She called her voice mail, mental fingers crossed that it was Logan and things had ended well. Luck was not on her side. It was Mac from last night, asking about going to a movie Friday night. She made an addition to her to-do list (call Mac) and deleted the message.

She sighed. What to do? Wait and see if any word came down the wire later, or go ahead and call Logan and get her least favorite part, the waiting, out of the way? Surely he would not interpret a short, concerned phone call as a white flag or a friendly overture. It was just her being concerned for the safety of a twelve-year-old girl, that's all.

She called him before she could talk herself out of it and waited for him to answer. One ring, two--

"Veronica? Are you okay?" his drowsy voice sounded like he was on auto-pilot, still mostly asleep. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the way her heart thumped in her chest when she heard the way his voice sounded, concerned and rough with sleep. She took a breath.

"I'm just calling to see if you've heard anything about Heather," she said, and something registered. "Why would you think I'm not okay?"

"I had a dream you yelled at me and stormed out of the room. Oh, wait. It's possible that wasn't a dream. It might be that that's actually every interaction I've had with you for months now," he quipped, that beautiful sleep timbre still in his voice, but no more concern, only what sounded to her like sadness. She sighed, hoping after the fact that it had been inaudible to him over the phone.

"So nothing about Heather?" She tried to divert him from the other topic of conversation. She had a mental image of what he must look like that very moment, probably having turned over onto his side once he'd gotten awake enough to string together a few sentences. Most mornings he'd wake up lying on his back, an arm flung above his head, sometimes the hand under his pillow, sometimes on top of it. He slept the sound sleep of the innocent, ironic even while asleep.

"I don't think she got the memo that I'm worried about her."

"I can call her house again today. If you don't hear from her after her school lets out, I guess." Why she'd just offered to do that, she did not know. Since Heather was still potentially not safe and sound, she guessed that was the only thing she could do to help. Wait, would that call involve her being in the same place as Logan? She still had the phone number in her phone from last night; it would be possible just to make the call on her own and let him know afterward.

"Okay. I think she gets out at three," he said plainly, no sarcasm in his voice.

"All right, I'll call later and let you know."

"Thanks." He paused. "I'll call you if I hear from her."

"Okay. Bye," she said and disconnected without waiting to hear if Logan had anything else to say to her. Then she sent a text to Piz, feeling not even a twinge of guilt: "up late studying - slept in - lunch?" and got out of bed for good to go take a shower and get ready to face her day.

part 8

He put down his phone after talking to Veronica and sat up on the couch. He had finally fallen asleep there in front of the TV late last night after driving around for a couple of hours once he'd passed Veronica by and then watching mindless shows for a couple of hours. He reached for the remote to turn off a rerun of Law and Order, then he stood up to stretch the couch-induced kinks out of his back and neck. He headed for the shower so he could clear his head. The almost painfully hot water fulfilled its intended purpose while he considered the events of the past twenty-four hours in a more rational fashion. He was still worried about Heather, but he could see that Veronica probably had a point about a twelve-year-old girl forgetting to tell her parents she was going over to a friend's house. If that wasn't what had happened, though... He pushed the disconcerting thoughts further back in his mind.

Yesterday he had gone from catching a chance glimpse of Veronica to getting her to come see him, then they struck out at each other like they always seemed to do, she ran away and he found her again (too bad he couldn't find Heather that easily), wandering around the same way that he had been. He wondered why she had been crying, why exactly. What thing in her life was so bad than she'd had to pull over to wait it out? Could it have been her fight with him, or was it something bigger that he didn't know anything about? Maybe something with her dad, or maybe her boyfriend was finally starting to bore her to tears, literally. Surely it was only a matter of time before the dynamic woman he remembered broke out of this cookie-cutter thing she had going with Piz. Even if it had nothing to do with him.

part 9

She made her way across the quad to meet Piz for lunch, walking slowly, telling herself that she was enjoying the beautiful early fall day. When she thought about what the rest of her day held, though, she had trouble encouraging her feet to move. After lunch, she had a couple hours of work-study at the library. She needed to call Heather's house again to try to figure out if she was actually missing or just being twelve. She was supposed to spend a couple hours helping her dad in the office. She had an evening Economics class, and finally, she had plans to watch DVDs with Piz. All she wanted was to be alone. That was actually what she had wanted most days since she got back from DC at the end of the summer. Too bad it wasn't happening today. She entered the student center and saw her boyfriend waving happily at her. She managed a smile for him, then joined him at the table, trying to shake off her bad attitude.

Piz thought she looked a little preoccupied, or stressed maybe. Tired? He hoped she wasn't getting sick or anything like that. He waved at her, and she perked up, so he worried a bit less. She sat down next to him, and as he usually did when he saw her, he felt a surge of gratitude toward whatever force had brought them together: fate, or luck, or being in the right place at the right time, whatever. He leaned over to kiss her cheek, her face upturned. She sighed contentedly, then looked at him searchingly for a second or two before leaning in to kiss him on the lips.

"Sorry I slept later than I thought this morning," she apologized. He shook his head.

"Don't worry about that. You probably needed the rest."

"Yeah." She looked down, settling her bag on the floor beside her chair, then looked back at him. "What's on the menu today?" she asked him. Since she'd gotten back from DC, she had let him pick the food for the both of them, which was sort of strange because she normally had very strong opinions about what she was in the mood to eat. He tried to pick things he knew she liked.

"There's lasagna in the cafeteria line."

"Hmmm. You know, I might just have some frozen yogurt. I'm not very hungry," she said, and he looked at her a bit more closely. Was her face starting to get a bit thinner? She did look tired.

"Are you feeling all right?"

She laughed softly. "Oh, ha-ha. Just because Veronica doesn't want lasagna, something's wrong? I just had a late breakfast this morning, so I'll get the fro-yo now and snack it up after the library."

"You've just seemed a bit, um, stressed lately, or preoccupied? I don't know. I just want to make sure you're okay." He went to hold her hand, and she returned the gentle squeeze he gave it.

"I'm fine." She looked him in the eye, her voice steady and assured, and he believed her.

Something was wrong with her. Logan knew her well enough to know that no matter how she looked when she was in front of other people, she was not as happy as they seemed to think she was. Even without inadvertently witnessing the late-night breakdown by the side of the PCH, he would have known, just by looking at her. How could these people who were supposed to be her friends, and her boyfriend, not know? This small snapshot he'd just gotten through a window while he was walking past the student center told him that much, that half-second image told him volumes.

It made him angry that she was trapped by her pretenses, that she felt, for whatever reason, that none of these other people were worthy of confiding in. Or that she thought she was being noble by carrying whatever burden it was on her own. He wished she would learn once and for all that she didn't have to do everything herself. If they were still together...

But they weren't. Some deep, secretive, cautiously optimistic part of him, though, had always thought they might be again, someday, maybe.

part 10

Some days she did not mind shelving books but today was not one of those days. She was not in the mood to concentrate on the alphabet or the stupid Dewey decimal system. She kept checking the time on the big clock on the main floor, willing the last ten minutes of her work-study to be over.

Finally it was time for her to leave; she filled out her time sheet and practically burst through the library doors out into the sun. One more thing she had to do before she went into the office with her dad. Well, two things, actually: call Heather's house and then update Logan.

She put her sunglasses on and settled onto a bench just outside the library. She reluctantly got her phone out of her bag and took a second to mentally prep, and then she made the call.

Three rings. Then a young voice: "Hello?"

"May I speak to Heather, please?" She held her breath.

"Um, this is Heather. Who is this?"

"Oh, Heather. I am happy to be talking to you," she said in a rush, relieved. "I'm a friend of Logan Echolls, and he was worried when you didn't get in touch with him yesterday."

"Oh, crap, is he mad? I totally forgot about our game when Michelle asked me over for dinner."

"I don't think he was mad, just worried, and when I talked to your mom, it seemed like she was worried, too."

"Yeah, my dad picked me up from school and said I could go over to Michelle's instead of going to my mom's like I was supposed to and he said he would call her so she would know I wasn't going to be there for dinner, but he forgot. She yelled at me when I called her to come pick me up after dinner and grounded me over the phone, but then I guess she talked to my dad, she ungrounded me when she picked me up." Wow, this girl could talk.

"So everything's okay, just a little misunderstanding about your dinner plans?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. Will you tell Logan I'm sorry, and that I'll remember next week?"

"I sure will."

"Okay, bye!"

"Bye," she said and sighed as she ended the call. What do you know, that had actually been the easy call. Now for the tough one.

Oh, God, finally, he thought when his phone rang and he saw it was actually Veronica, unlike the four other calls and six other texts since this morning that had not been Veronica.

"Hey," he answered the phone familiarly.

"Hey," she said in return. He knew from her tone that everything was all right, but he waited for her to say the words anyway, on the off chance that he was wrong. "I just talked to Heather, or she just talked to me, really. Everything's fine, it was just a miscommunication between her parents. She says she's sorry she missed your game and she'll see you next week."

"Good," was all he could think of to say right then. "Thanks, Veronica," he managed after a few seconds.

"You're welcome," she replied. The massive sense of relief he felt was not unlike finding Veronica, locks of hair by her recumbent body, in the parking deck, although not as intense. How many bullets would the people he cared about get to dodge? "Goodbye, Logan," he heard her say into the phone and then hang up.

He figured he was probably due for a few free passes for the people in his life. After the last few years worth of paying through the nose losing people when they were killed, or when they ran off, or when they jumped off, he was owed. Maybe he had been afraid that all Veronica's near misses had used up his credits with Fate, and that was a part of why he'd been so worried about Heather. Maybe a guy only got so many chances.

He wished she hadn't hung up the phone. Hell, he wished she was there in the room with him. He never felt quite right without her presence, even if they weren't dating, even if they were actively disagreeing. She was the one person who never left him, not with the finality of the others. She was still in his life, even if it was just on the periphery right now, and he was not out of her life for good as he had feared. Even after all the mistakes he'd made, she was still here. And he needed her, so much sometimes that he was ashamed. He sometimes felt like if she ever gave up on him completely, his life wouldn't matter.

part 11

She called Mac after she parked her car on the street in front of the Mars Investigations office.

"Mac Attack! Movie Friday night, huh?"

"I thought we'd make it a double date, yes. Max really wants to see the stupid thing and I'll feel so much better knowing you're losing that hour and a half of your life, too."

"Such a good friend."

"I try. The 9:45 show?"

"Okay. I'll run it by Piz."

"Excellent. Talk to you later."

"Bye."

She put her phone back into her bag and got out of the car to go into the office.

"Hi, honey, I'm home!" she called out as she walked through the front door. Huge stacks of files were piled up on every flat surface. Her dad came out of his office with another stack in his arms. He set it down in the reception desk chair and smiled at her, indicating the room full of files with a sweeping gesture of his arm. "You got some splainin' to do," she told him, hoping against all odds that this wasn't the start of the annual Mars Investigations Fall File Frenzy.

"It's that time again."

"No!" she moaned dramatically, putting her bag down and sitting on the couch. He sat down next to her.

"We go through this every year. And what do I tell you every year?"

"It's best if I don't fight it."

"That's right," he said reassuringly. "Now start looking through those files - A's through G's are on the desk. I'm going out for a while for the Lewis case. Call me if you need me." He stood up and put on a jacket and cap with an exterminator's logo on them. "Gotta go take care of some bugs."

She groaned at his terrible joke. "If you're going to make me go through the files, you are not allowed to make puns."

"I'll be back in an hour or two." He looked at her for a moment. "Everything okay?" She tried her best to look neutral, not overly happy, because that was a dead giveaway as far as her dad was concerned.

"Just alphabet overload, between this and the library earlier." If he didn't buy it, he didn't press the issue any further. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

"Do you want to come home for dinner before your class?"

"Sure."

"All right. Bye, honey."

"Bye," she returned as he left. She transferred her attention to the large stacks of files and decided to jump right in and tackle the A's. Maybe her dad was right and it was best if she didn't fight it. That would be one thing that wasn't a fight lately, at least.

She started in on the first stack she got to. The repetitive nature of arranging the files seemed to put her into an introspective lull, unlike her stint in the library earlier. Luckily, she was really good at the alphabet, so when her mind started to wander, she could still manage to alphabetize correctly.

She thought about how different things would be right now if she had made just a couple of different choices. If she had stopped herself from dwelling in the past where Jake Kane was concerned and had not broken into his house and stolen from him, her dad might be Sheriff now. And she would not be filing. The only thing that hard drive had gotten her was info that she would never be able to use in any way that helped her for fear of repercussions to her dad or other people she cared about.

While I'm playing the what if game, how would things be different now if I had never started dating Piz, if we had stayed just friends? I made the first move, really. Would he have asked me out eventually if I hadn't, or continued to back off? Come to think of it, that first move had happened about the same time Heather was being pawned off on Logan. What a relief that she was safe at home. Otherwise, she might have ended up indulging Logan in some off-the-clock P. I. endeavors. How would she have been able to stand it if she'd had to check in with him regularly, or, worse yet, go on some terrible claustrophobic stakeout, trapped in a car with him for hours, nothing to do but wait and talk. What would they even talk about? Mundane everyday things, classes, anything other than the issues that had blown them apart if history was any indicator. Of course, if she had never started dating Piz, Logan never would have felt the need to beat him up over what he thought was a sex tape because it never would have been made. They wouldn't talk about any issues anyway, not directly. One of them would say something snarky and the witty comments back and forth would escalate to yelling, and one of them would leave in a huff. Probably her. Logan was usually happy to keep fighting, to lay his cards on the table to get her to see his perspective. She was the runner. In that respect, it was so much easier to be with Piz. He never sent her running out of the room.

She filed and thought for a while longer, until her dad came back in.

"How did it go?" she asked him. She had moved to the chair behind the reception desk once she'd gotten enough of the files cleared off of the desk.

"Fine. No problems. Your old man is the best fake exterminator on the planet."

"Of course you are."

"How's the filing coming?" he asked pointedly.

"Slowly. I made it to D."

"Well, let's stop for the day and go home for dinner. What are you in the mood for?"

"Oh, whatever's fine. Something quick before Econ." He gave her a brief look like he wanted to say something to her, then came around behind the desk to wrap an arm around her shoulder.

"You know, I can take care of the rest of the filing if school's keeping you busy."

"Nothing I can't handle. I can finish the filing." People were starting to notice. She had to do better at being happy. At least her dad still thought she was with Piz on those nights she went out driving around. She needed for her dad to think she was happy. She had already caused enough problems for him.

part 12

About halfway through the movie, Veronica's fingertips brushed the bottom of the popcorn bucket, the small size purchased due to her lack of appetite lately. Maybe things were changing. Maybe this eating would lead to sleeping at decent hours for a change. She was going to get some chocolate now, too - Whoppers, or maybe even Junior Mints.

She leaned over to whisper to Piz, "I'll be right back, do you want anything from concessions?" He shook his head 'no,' then returned his attention to the screen. At least he was following it with some interest. Her mind kept wandering, and she was having trouble paying enough attention to the plot to care what the outcome was. She grabbed some money out of her bag and headed toward the exit door at the back of the theater. She decided she might as well visit the ladies' room while she was already out of the theater before she burdened herself with snacks.

Logan watched her leave and impulsively stood up to go after her. Dick acknowledged his departure by lifting the paper cup of cola which he had enhanced with Jack Daniels Blue Label. He knew he probably shouldn't be doing this even while he passed under the red 'EXIT' sign, but he couldn't seem to stop himself - not even when he saw her enter the ladies' restroom just off the wide hallway, not even when he knew that the usher with the carpet sweeper could turn around to face him at any second, not even when another female nearly ran into him as she was leaving just after Veronica had gone in. He who hesitates is lost, he told himself, and walked in, hoping that the lady who'd seen him wouldn't tell management. He briefly wished for an 'out of order' sign and a wedge to put under the door. Ah, the good old days. He made a cursory check of the stalls - all but one unoccupied, and he recognized the pair of shoes he could see under the door. He dragged the trashcan over to block the door; that would have to do. Then there was a flush, and after a few seconds, she walked out of the stall and it was too late to abandon his impulsive plan.

She jumped when she saw him and realized he wasn't another feminine bathroom-user, and her hand reached down to her side, he would have bet for the taser that was in the bag that was not at all on her shoulder. She let out a breath when, in the next instant, she realized it was him and not just some random male intruding on the female inner sanctum or some creepy peeping tom. She probably would have tasered him anyway if she'd had the taser with her. It was his lucky day, he thought, as she went to wash her hands. The noise of the high pressure automatic-sensored sink and her back turned to him gave him a few more seconds to study her so he could decide how to proceed. She took her hands out of the sink and the water stopped, leaving the room silent. She glared at him as she walked past him toward the paper towel dispensers mounted along the wall.

He took a breath, preparing to make a witty remark, when Veronica hit the button on the hot air hand dryer next to the paper towels. The noise stopped his words before they left his mouth. He waited for the blower to stop and when she turned her head to look at him, he began to speak again, only to be cut off by Veronica turning on the blower again. He nodded at her, trying to let her know she'd made her point, if her point was "following me into the bathroom hasn't been okay since high school."

The blower stopped, and when she went toward the button a third time, he placed his hand in between her completely dry poking fingers and the shiny metal square, and when she poked his hand instead, she drew back like he was electrified. Maybe he should have thought this through a little further.

What the hell was he thinking? This wasn't high school; they were out in public, with other people also out in public. She poked his hand unexpectedly when she went to start the hand dryer a third time to buy herself a few more seconds to think while she annoyed him with the noise. It had been a win-win the first two times, anyway. The sudden contact had made her recoil noticeably, and she wondered exactly how he would choose to interpret that.

"What are you doing here?" she asked softly.

"Hoping that waste of celluloid redeems itself with a high speed car chase."

"In the women's restroom," she clarified.

"Oh. Right. Here's the thing."

"Logan..." she said his name, half scolding him for playing around and following her into the restroom, half pleading with him just to let her go on with her life, to stop showing up and reminding her that there were times they had been happy.

He shrugged. "I don't know why. I just saw you get up and I was following you before I knew it." He sounded sincere.

"You're here to see the movie?" she asked, having trouble wrapping her brain around the whole situation. These past couple of days had been so much like high school at times that when he surprised her in the ladies' room, it had thrown her for a minute, so she had needed the time it took to wash and thoroughly dry her hands to get her bearings.

"Yep, just me and Dick. Actually, the longer I leave him alone, the more likely he is to get himself into trouble. Maybe I should just get back." He seemed deflated, like he really didn't know why he'd come after her and realizing that had taken the wind out of him. He looked at his feet, not moving to leave.

"I'm glad Heather's okay," she volunteered.

"Yeah. It's good. I'm glad you didn't have to get too involved. I know you're busy." His head stayed down; his hand worried at the edge of his sleeve.

"I would have, if you had needed me," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. He looked up at her through his eyelashes, suddenly still.

She knew that look. She had seen it on a balcony, after the first time he'd come to her rescue. God, she knew that look.

He held still, afraid that if he moved he would spook her. He held still for as long as he could, watching her eyes widen and her breathing quicken, then he did the only thing he could think of to do to hold her in place, to keep her from leaving. He reached his hand up to cup her cheek, and when she stayed there, closing her eyes slowly, he reached the other hand up as he stepped in closer. She stayed there; she was not running away, he realized wondrously. He took a deep breath in and out, finally relaxing slightly for the first time since he'd trapped them in here together.

She felt him edging closer to her slowly, felt his hesitance, felt him waiting for her to pull away, to run out of the room. She should run. She knew she should, but she didn't. With her eyes closed, she felt his hands on either side of her face and it felt like home, like the bad parts of the past three years had never happened, just the parts where they found each other. She felt it and she couldn't leave.

She opened her eyes and saw him looking at her like she would evaporate if he took his hands off of her face. She brought her hands up to his waist: her light touch seemed to release something in him, and he bent his forehead to touch hers, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he moved his head back so he could look her in the eyes again. Whatever he saw there made him smile, and he tilted her face up slightly as he leaned in to kiss her. His lips touched hers, and her eyes closed involuntarily. She felt his familiar hands move around to draw through her hair, press the nape of her neck, and roll down her back as the kiss continued. His arms tightened around her and she molded comfortably against him, her body remembering exactly how it was supposed to be. She let her hands roam over him, up and down his sides and across his back, and he moved his lips to her throat, kissing a trail along her jaw to her ear. She heard his throaty whisper: her name, every few seconds in between kisses. She shivered at the sound, the word he uttered like a prayer offered only to her. He adored her, she knew it without a doubt in this moment. She had always known that, it was just harder to accept sometimes than it was right now.

The haze he had put her in began to clear when a tiny niggling thought started to come back to her, when she remembered where they were and who was waiting for her in the theater. She shut her eyes tightly, hoping that maybe if she blocked the movie theater ladies' room from her vision completely, she could focus on the touch of the man here with her and nothing else. It wasn't going to work, though, she discovered after a moment, and she lifted his face to kiss his lips one last time. When she pulled back, he looked at her questioningly and she tried to smile at him, but she was afraid it wasn't very convincing, especially when his brow wrinkled a little as he brushed her hair away from her temple.

"I have to go," she managed to say, her voice rough. She reluctantly backed away from him, watching his face fall. He remained quiet and moved the garbage can away from the door so she could leave. Her hand on the handle, she paused before she pulled the door open. "I wish we could stay," she whispered without looking at him, then hurried out before he tried to make her wish come true.

When she was back in the seat next to Piz again, he glanced at her, noticing her lack of concessions.

"There was a line; I just went to the restroom instead after I got tired of waiting." And she knew she would not be sleeping well anytime soon.

Chapter Text

part 13

Three days since the kisses in the movie theater ladies' room. Three days and no phone calls, no texts, nothing. It was a little unnerving, and it was totally unexpected. She thought Logan would have certainly tried to call her, to see her, to try to explain what happened, or to ask what was going to happen next. Since she couldn't really explain it and she had no idea what was next, she was sort of relieved he hadn't tried to contact her; she definitely hadn't tried to contact him. She just thought he might have tried but for three days now, he hadn't. So for three days, she'd been doing normal things: hanging out with Piz, Mac, and Wallace, starting her Profiling paper, getting her reading done for Economics, making it to the R's in the Fall File Frenzy, failing to sleep at night, driving around aimlessly for hours, replaying those precious couple of moments that had made her feel vibrant again, feel treasured, being prodded by her own guilty conscience when she looked at Piz, and feeling Logan's lips on hers, his hands on her skin, every time she closed her eyes or even stood still for more than a few seconds. Three of the longest days of her life, and so far today was no exception. After breakfast with Wallace and Piz, General Psychology class, and lunch, again with Piz, she was back in the library with nothing but more filing and Econ to look forward to later. To make matters worse, she was stuck at the circulation desk, where nothing ever went on in the middle of the afternoon, so she had plenty of time for her mind to wander back three days and very few distractions to keep it from doing just that. Occasionally someone would turn a book in at the desk, or through the book drop slot outside - like that book there, sliding down into the return bin. She picked it up, glad to have something to do to occupy herself.

When she opened the book to scan the bar code and check it back in, she discovered a white piece of paper with her name written on it, in a familiar script. She picked it up and turned it over, and there was a number -- it looked like a call number for a library book. She typed the number into the circulation desk computer, and learned that this number belonged to The Waste Land and Other Poems by T. S. Eliot. Her Senior English class had read that. She took the slip of paper and went up to the third floor where the book was supposed to be. She found it quickly, right where it should have been with another paper sticking up out of it. She got the book down off the shelf and opened it to the page that was marked. Like the first paper, this one had her name in his handwriting on one side and a number on the other. The number looked more like a line number from the page, though, line 402. She ran her finger down the print from 400, and there it was:

"What have we given?
My friend, blood shaking my heart
The awful daring of a moment's surrender
Which an age of prudence can never retract
By this and this only have we existed..."

She stopped reading there. This almost had to be Logan, with some kind of message for her. Without thinking too much about the poem, which he knew she loved, she hurried back downstairs, book in hand, to see if Logan was there. He must have been the one who dropped the first book in the return slot; maybe he was waiting for her outside the front door of the library. She rushed though the door, hoping to see him, needing to see him. None of the six people she saw crossing the lawn in front of the library were him. She peeked around one side of the building, then the other, and when she still didn't see him, she went back inside to get back to her circulation desk before any of the librarians noticed she was gone.

He watched through his window in the building across the courtyard from the library and saw her flit around outside the front door like a hummingbird, the note he'd left for her grasped in her hand, then go back inside.

He'd known that he would have to be the one to go to her after their kiss, that if he waited for her to come to him, he would wait forever. He didn't think he could take it, though, if he went to her with hopes about them getting back together and she shut him down completely. It was entirely possible that she would have that sort of knee-jerk reaction out of some displaced nobility or blind loyalty to Piz no matter what she really wanted or what she felt for him. So he'd set up a way to hopefully help him gauge how receptive she was before he rushed in headlong like he usually did. He wondered if her rapid effort to find him was to yell at him to leave her alone or to see what he was thinking after the somewhat cryptic note. He wasn't that much closer to figuring out if it was safe to proceed.

He'd also hoped his note would make Veronica really think about all they'd shared over the past couple of years. The kiss at the movie theater was just a tiny fraction. He needed her, but he wanted her only to come willingly, not on a whim, and not because she was bored with her boyfriend.

He did still think she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He knew she'd thought that about him for a while. Even at their most drama-free, their relationship had never been uncomplicated. It had been messy sometimes, and had been constantly intruded on by ghosts from their pasts. Maybe that was the attraction with Piz. He was a clean slate for her, an easy way to forget all about the mistakes both of them had made. He couldn't have succeeded at that kind of self-imposed amnesia even if he'd wanted to. He would not have given up the good memories for anything, not even an honest-to-God fresh start reintroduction in a parallel universe where they hadn't met until now. Hell, in that parallel universe, the one where he hadn't had her in his corner, he would probably be dead already and the fresh start would be a moot point.

All this thinking and planning wouldn't do him any good if she decided she didn't want to come back to him. He couldn't make her leave Piz if she didn't want to, but he could try every way he knew to make her want to. He just had to be careful not to push her too hard or she would run right back to her clean slate.

 
part 14

The rectangle of paper was deeply creased down the center and slightly tattered around the edges from being folded and unfolded, read and reread, placed in a pocket and removed, over and over for the past forty-eight hours. Whenever she let her mind wander for a few seconds, her hand automatically went to his note.

When she hadn't seen Logan outside the library after he'd left it for her, she spent the rest of her uneventful work-study shift thinking about all the things the note could mean. The fact that he even sent it could mean any number of things. Why choose to send a note instead of approach her face to face? Well, Veronica, he must have thought you'd run away again, or laugh in his face. Maybe he regretted that the kiss even happened, and he didn't want to get swept up in the drama she seemed to attract. They had let themselves get swept up in nostalgia for a few minutes and once it was over, he wanted to leave it behind. "A moment's surrender, which an age of prudence can never retract..." He probably wished they could just both forget all about it and go back to the way they'd been before he thought Heather was missing. She didn't know if she wanted to return to that, ignoring his presence when she knew he was just across the room, denying their history partly for Piz's sake and partly for her own just to preserve the even keel. What if she was already spinning off course? Was there anything left to preserve?

Two days after that, every second she failed to actively occupy her mind, her thoughts had gone in whirlpools, and now she was back at the library again. She wasn't sure what she wanted anymore, or what Logan might want, since all she'd heard from him was in the note. That damn quote was all she had to go on, and all the late-night driving mileage she'd logged hadn't clarified anything. No amount of thinking for hours while lying in bed when she should be sleeping brought her any epiphanies. For several days now, ever since the kiss, she'd been stuck between Scylla and Charybdis, clinging for dear life to her stupid boat of normalcy and trying to avoid either getting smashed to bits on the rocks of consequences she wasn't sure she was willing to face or being pulled under by the turbulent waters of the past. At least if she stayed stuck, if she didn't hear anything else from Logan, she wouldn't have to make any decisions.

He wrote her name across the outside of the envelope, tucked it inside a book, and dropped it in the return slot, exactly as he had done two days ago. He knew she was in there, sitting at the circulation desk again: he'd peeked in the door earlier to make sure she was there. She looked like hell, like she hadn't slept in days. He was no picture of restful calm, either. He had written and rewritten the new letter so many times in the past two days, he'd lost count. Now it was out of his hands, sliding in a book down a chute to Veronica and he was frozen in place by the front door of the library. Oh, God, what had he done? Maybe he could go get it back before she read it. He turned to open the door and almost collided with Veronica.

He took a deep breath and nodded a greeting at her. "Could I...have that book back?"

She held up the book she carried, the book he'd just used as a carrier pigeon for the shamelessly honest letter he'd written her. "This book? You just put it in the return drop?" He nodded, and she held out the book for him. "Sure."

He took it and flipped through the pages, then sighed and asked quietly, embarrassed to have to specify it, "Can I have the letter back, too?"

She looked at him, meeting his gaze openly. "No." There was the slightest hint of humor in her eyes, and that made him smile. She could read the letter. She already knew everything he'd written anyway.

"Fair enough," he replied, and on a sudden whim he continued, "on one condition: you have to write back. Leave it where you know I'll find it." He turned and left, needing to get out of there before she started reading that intensely personal letter right in front of him, or worse, before he couldn't stop himself from kissing her again right there on the front steps of the library where any random person could see them.

Piz approached the library after his class, hoping to drop in and see Veronica for a few minutes if she wasn't busy. When he saw her on the front steps with Logan, he stopped and watched them. She handed him a book, and he looked through it and asked her a question. It looked like she told him "no." Logan said something else to her, then left, luckily going in the opposite direction. Veronica looked at a small envelope for a few seconds, and there was an expression on her face he could not put a name to. Reverence came close, but it could just as easily have been apprehension. Was that letter from Logan? Even though he was standing maybe ten yards away from her, out in the open, she hadn't noticed him standing there yet. Maybe he would wait to see her. The last thing he wanted was to go up to her and have to watch her face fall the way it had in the food court that day last spring after Logan had gotten into a fight with Gory Sorokin. He stayed where he was and watched her as she turned the envelope over in her hands and stared at it again. This time it looked like she thought the letter might have anthrax in it. He almost called her name, but then he saw her pull her hands in closer to her, holding the letter gently and smiling softly. She turned and went into the library, leaving him alone outside.

part 15

Dear Veronica,

As much as I told myself I would have to hold back and keep it light and casual so I wouldn't scare you off, I just can't. Every time I started to write you a light, casual letter, it sounded stupid, so I kept throwing them all away. (I made Ratner take a bag of trash away with him when he dropped off my room service last night. You're welcome.)

I don't want to stay light and casual. We've never even come close to light and casual. It's always been all or nothing with us, and I think it might always be that way. But I'll get back to that later.

V, I can't stand knowing that you're not happy. I could let you go on with your life without me in it if that was what you wanted as long as I knew you were happy, but I don't think you are. I'm not saying it's Piz's fault or even any one thing. I can just tell there's something wrong, so I can't let it go, not without trying to make you feel better. I hope you know by now that I would do anything for you. I'm pretty sure you won't take me up on it, but I thought I'd put the offer out there.

God, I miss you. I can't believe I'm resorting to writing you a letter to tell you that, and that I waited until I thought Heather was missing before I even got in touch with you. I guess I thought that was what you wanted.

This isn't how it should be. I should be able to see you and talk to you. I understand why you don't think we should hang out and be friends, but after the other night at the movies I could use a friend I can actually talk to. Dick isn't really great at those kinds of talks. You're sort of it. You've sort of always been it and that's why I hate the way things are now so much.

I need something from you - I need things to be different because I don't think I can keep on being around you but just on the edge of your life. I guess this is the all or nothing part. I need you to think about something and make a decision. I need to know if you want me in your life, really in it, or out. I don't mean that I want you to choose between me and Piz or that I want you to break up with him. Actually, I kind of do mean that, but if you decide to stay with Piz, I guess I'll have to find a way to accept it. I just know I can't keep going like we have been since spring.

I want you back, to borrow the immortal words of the Jackson Five. I love you, and the most important thing in the world to me is that you are happy and safe. I think we can be happy, and I know it won't be easy, but with us, when has it ever been?

Take your time thinking, just think it all the way through before you make any decisions. I'll be waiting.

Love,

Logan

Dear Logan,

I have thought a lot about the things you wrote in your letter. I haven't thought of much else in the past week, actually. I keep coming back to one thing - it does seem to be all or nothing with us, and that makes it that much more important to keep thinking. I can't give you an answer yet, not the one you want. It might be the answer I want, too, but I need more time.

You're right, I'm not happy. But I don't think imploding my life right now will help with that. And you deserve better than that. You should be with a girl who's there just for you, not because she's trying to avoid other things. If I were that girl right now, this would be an easy decision. But I'm not. I don't think it's fair to ask you wait until I get myself together, either. I'll understand if you want to move on.

Veronica

Chapter Text

part 16

He walked into the library on Tuesday, knowing that she should be there unless she'd changed her schedule. She wasn't at the circulation desk. He continued to look around the groupings of shelves on the first floor, hoping to see her straightening the periodicals or helping someone find a book.

He climbed the stairs to the second floor, where the rows of shelved stretched form ceiling to floor. He deliberately walked the circuit of the entire level. While he took several long strides along each side of the square that formed the atrium-like opening he looked down onto the main floor and up into the edges of the third floor, hoping to find her. He took the stairs two at a time up to the third floor, his last chance for the afternoon. If she wasn't here, she would probably be with her boyfriend or her friends or her dad, and her walls would be up. He felt like his best chance to get through to her would be here, on neutral ground, where she wouldn't feel the need to put up a front for anyone. It would also be harder for her to run away if she still had to finish her work-study hours.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he paused. She was across the square opening, standing in between shelves, pulling books from her cart and returning them to their assigned spots. Even doing something mundane as that, she was so beautiful, he almost wished he could stand there and watch her. He indulged the impulse for a moment. She could be so methodical sometimes and then turn around and do something unexpected, something so disarming that he would lose his footing, like a rider getting thrown from a Grand Prix-caliber horse mid-jump. He took a deep breath and then approached her casually. She looked over and saw him standing next to the cart of books. The corners of her mouth turned up, and he was encouraged.

"I need some help," he began, his slightly conspiratory tone and his quickly broadening smile belying the urgency he felt to try to get this right.

"Help desk is downstairs," she told him, no-nonsense. "I just shelve the books."

"Well, that's serendipitous. I'm looking for the girl who shelves the books."

"Wow, coincidence."

"So, my little Dewey decimal doyenne, I found your letter this morning. Nice touch, by the way, leaving it in my copy of The Big Lebowski."

"You said to leave it somewhere I knew you would find it. You did not, however, specify how long it should take you." She actually looked a bit smug. He supposed it was justified.

"How did you get it in there, or will I be happier not knowing?"

"Dick. He's finally sufficiently scared of me that he just does what I tell him, no questions asked." Logan came to an amusing realization.

"You know, I think he was trying to give me a hint. He's been going around saying 'dude' over and over the past few days, but for some reason I didn't pick up on it."

"Damn it, I told him to keep his mouth shut."

"He didn't actually say anything. I only found it when I went to put the DVD back in its case."

"Still, what's the point of instilling a healthy fear in someone if there's no follow-through?"

"And speaking of follow-through..." He let his voice trail off softly.

"You want to talk." Her statement held an obvious note of reluctance, but she nodded after a short pause. "I'm here until closing tonight. Pick me up after?"

"Yes, absolutely," he answered immediately, then mentally chastised himself for seeming so eager. Don't get your hopes up; she might be agreeing to talk to you just so she can do you the honor of shutting you down in person. He recognized her careful, purposefully neutral expression. Well, in a few hours he would at least have an answer. Would it be the one he wanted, the one he needed?

"Ten o'clock?" he confirmed. She nodded.

"Meet me at the front desk, okay? We can talk then."

"Okay."

"I've gotta--"

"Yeah, no, I'll let you get back to your shelving. I'll see you at ten."

"See you then." He hoped he wasn't imagining the smile that appeared on her face then, that his mind wasn't manufacturing something for him to see that wasn't really there because he simply could not face the alternative.

As he made the short trip down the two flights of library stairs, he made a conscious effort to rein in his swiftly burgeoning optimism. He really needed to stay level-headed, to keep from getting too excited about the future in the all-too-possible event that she would just reiterate what she'd written in her letter.

The night in the library was so slow that the head librarian went home at eight, leaving Veronica to lock up on her own. That also left her with too much time to think and not enough to do.

She straightened every book poking out over the edge of every shelf. That ate up an hour.

She Windexed all all the library windows she could reach with the assistance of a chair - inside and out. There went another thirty minutes.

She reorganized the drawers in the circulation desk (fifteen minutes), swept the library's outdoor steps (two minutes), bagged up the garbage (five minutes), sharpened all the golf pencils by the search index computer stations (three minutes), and checked the study rooms on the third floor for trash (minimal) and sleeping students (none), thereby devouring the last five minutes before closing time. Oh, crap, she had busied away the entire evening when she should have been thinking before Logan came back to talk. He probably would be downstairs waiting for her already. She hurried down to the main floor and, as expected, there he was, reclining against her circulation desk, propped up by his elbows. Even after knowing him for several years, being confronted by that languid grace of his that only partially covered the intensity underneath reminded her again of how beautiful he was. He was brambles on blackberry canes, dangerous intertwined with the sweet. The danger wasn't so much from the intense, quickly healed pricks on fingers as it was from errant juices that escaped the fruit in a moment of indulgence, dripping down chins to mark fabrics and never wash completely out, leaving behind indelible echoes of stains.

She was scared he might always be there. That he would always remind her of all the things she had done wrong, all the times she had failed him, and failed other people, and failed herself. What had happened to her? She used to take things on full-force, balls to the wall, but until last spring, she had usually had a good reason to do the things she had done; she had been helping people. Then something had changed, her priorities, maybe, or she got tired of seeing powerful people get away with murder - literally. The stunt she'd pulled breaking into the Kanes' house had almost certainly cost her dad the election, and for what? An old grudge? It shouldn't have happened. Seeing Logan waiting for her then sparked something in her, some well of guilt that she tried to shut down but couldn't.

"I'm sorry, I..." She'd barely gotten started when she choked up. He stood up straight and crossed the six feet of tacky library carpet to stand right in front of her. She couldn't look him in the face, and she felt tears threatening to breach her eyelids. She took a deep breath while he spoke.

"What's wrong? Sorry for what? Are you okay?" he asked, obviously worried. He tended to worry when she cried, for good reason.

"I'm...this is all wrong," she managed to get out, and she finally raised her face up to look him in the eyes. He looked crestfallen, and she realized he thought she had been talking about their kiss and their letters when she'd really meant her whole life at that point except for him. She gasped and hurried to reach for his hand, to fix this before she hurt him again. She pulled his hand up to hold it in between her own slightly shaking hands. "Oh, no. Let me...I need to start over." She swallowed hard and her tears thankfully seemed to lessen. Feeling his hand in hers gave her something tangible to move toward. That hand was her anchor. She gripped it tightly, and felt a slight pressure in return. She could do this.

"Everything's so messed up right now," she started. He wrinkled his brow at her and she could see the wheels turning in his head, see that he was forcing himself to stand still and let her talk. "Last spring, I had to get you out of my life. I thought I knew what I was doing, and I didn't want you there to tell me I was wrong. Even though I was." There, she had admitted it, and no chasm in the floor had cracked open and swallowed her whole. "I broke into Jake Kane's new house and stole a hard drive that had some sensitive information on it, and suffice it to say, he wasn't happy."

"I knew something was..." he trailed off. She nodded and rolled her eyes at herself, remembering how she'd rushed headlong into the situation without thinking it all the way through.

"That's how I found out Gory Sorokin was connected, and that's why my dad got caught destroying evidence - to protect me. I kinda stepped on a bee hive with that one, and I feel so stupid. My dad lost the election, you attacked some mob prince because I tracked that video back to him--"

"If you hadn't told me he was connected, I would have hit him more times, and harder."

"Like what you did to Piz?" she asked softly, not to shame him, but she needed to clear the air about that, too, and now was as good a time as any.

"Yeah." The admission was matter-of-fact. "You know, on bad nights, I still lie awake sometimes thinking about what was on that tape. Not just that some scumbag made it, but that," he let out a sigh, "you looked happy with somebody else, and I knew I wasn't."

She leaned her body in to his, knowing that there was still more they needed to talk about, but right then, she just needed to feel him, to be as close to him as she could get. She stood on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his lips, then let go of his hand to wrap her arms around his waist. His hands went to her hair, her back, without hesitation. Everything except this, except his lips on hers, his hands touching her, stopped mattering. The guilt she would deal with later; Piz, later. She tightened her arms around him and kissed him harder, ignoring the tiny part of her conscience that said she was just using Logan to forget about all her other problems. He responded to her touch, his tongue delving into her mouth, the palm of his hand holding the back of her skull, keeping her lips lined up with his so that she couldn't have moved away even if she'd wanted to. She matched him motion for motion, the intensity between them rising with every panting breath.

A noise at the front door jarred her back to reality. Someone was coming into the library. She broke away from him and rushed over to the front door as it opened. Poor freshman. "We're closed." She closed the door again and retrieved her copy of the front door key from her jeans pocket, then locked the deadbolt and re-pocketed the key. She turned back around and saw Logan's eyes heavy-lidded with hunger for her, and she knew there was nothing that was going to keep her from being with him then. She smiled at him, her first real smile in days, and he smiled back at her even as he strode over, pressing her body against the library door with his own, settling his long legs between her shorter legs. She wanted to be closer to him. It felt like he read her mind when he spanned her waist with his hands and lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, cool metal door against her back. She bent her head down this time to kiss him, their lips meeting roughly as his hips surged against hers. Feeling his body like this again and remembering what it used to be like when they made love only made her want him more. She tore her lips away from his long enough to say

"Take me upstairs."

"Where upstairs?"

"Study rooms, third floor." She kissed him again and he shifted her body so he cradled her torso in one arm and her legs in the other arm. She nuzzled into his neck while he started for the steps. "I can walk," she offered in between planting kisses on his throat and behind his ear.

"I got it."

"I'm not too heavy?"

"Even if you were, I'm highly motivated."

She pulled his earlobe into her mouth and nipped at it with her teeth and felt him gulp, felt his stride slow.

"Maybe you should wait until we're not on the stairs to do that."

"Maybe you should stop complaining and walk faster."

"Oh, I'm not complaining."

"Mm-hmm. One more flight of stairs, hot-shot. Get the lead out."

"Jesus, woman. You're driving me crazy."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure that part actually happens next."

"All right, third floor. Literature, reference books, and study room sexcapades." He stopped walking then and tightened his arms around her. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I know."

"Veronica," he began as he put her feet down gently. He continued to hold her close as he lowered his forehead to hers and brushed his thumb along her cheekbone. "I love you. I don't think I stopped. I might not stop, ever."

She replied by kissing him, a long, soft, sweet kiss.

"We're more than this," he continued, his hands on either side of her face, holding her head so she could see his face, making her listen to what he was telling her. "You and me, we are so much more than just sex, and I know you know that, but I need for you to hear me say it. I want you so much sometimes that it causes me physical pain when I can't have you. But I would rather have one second of the most innocent of encounters with you, five minutes in a bathroom, than months, years, with anyone else." He exhaled slowly. "Do you believe me?" His eyes were wide and bright with emotion. She did believe him; she believed that he would love her for as long as she let him.

"In here." She led him by the hand into the closest study room, not bothering to turn on the light, just turning back around to Logan and launching herself into his arms. She felt him chuckling against her lips.

"My bobcat," he teased her, raising an eyebrow lasciviously.

"You might find yourself on the wrong end of my claws if you don't stop making fun of me and start kissing me again real soon."

"Yes, ma'am," he practically growled as his lips descended on hers again. This crush of mouths, this passion, this is what she'd been missing. All the sensations and emotions he'd always been able to make her feel came back like they'd never been apart. She snaked her fingers under the hem of his T-shirt to touch the soft skin on his back, but once her hands found him she decided she needed to touch him all over, so she tugged the shirt upward. He lifted his arms to allow her to pull it off over his head. She discarded it on the floor carelessly, then ran her hands up his torso and along his shoulders.

"Are you taking weight training again?" she asked, noticing that his chest and arms were even more muscular than she remembered. He leaned in to kiss her neck.

"Mm-hmm."

"They let you take that again for credit?" she wondered aloud.

"Mars." His lips left her collarbone abruptly. "Nagging is not sexy," he said, even as he began kissing her again where he'd left off.

"I was just admiring your...coursework," she improvised.

"Always quick on your feet, aren't you?"

"Mostly, sure."

"Then I'll have to get you off of your feet so you stop thinking." He lifted her up onto the table in the middle of the room, and her breath caught in her throat, and she could not think anymore as he undid the tiny buttons down the front of her shirt one by one. He parted the fabric and gently slid it off of her shoulders and down her arms, and all the joking evaporated when he looked into her eyes again. He laid the shirt on the floor and then ran his fingers up the lengths of her arms, giving her goosebumps that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room and everything to do with the way he gazed at her skin. His hands rested on her shoulders, and she brought her own hands up to his waist, hovering at the top edge of his jeans. He stepped in to the edge of the table, standing between her legs and rubbing up and down the length of her back. She let her eyelids fall shut, then she felt him moving closer to her and she tilted her head up slightly to meet his lips. The kiss was slow and long and deep and it made her heart leap up into her throat. She felt him start to unhook her bra and opened her eyes to smile at him.

"We are both wearing too many clothes," he explained. She took the hint and unbuttoned his jeans, then slid the zipper down. She hooked her thumbs in the the waistband and started to slide his jeans down his hips, and he got her bra unfastened. She planted kisses in a line down his chest while she reached to move the jeans as far as she could along his legs. When she couldn't reach any further, he stepped back and took his shoes and then his jeans off while she got down off of the table and slid the straps of her bra down her arms. He reached up to free her hands from the flimsy straps and then he efficiently unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans and between the two of them, all of their clothes ended up in a pile on the study room floor.

Feeling surprisingly comfortable with her nudity, considering their environment, Veronica smiled as she watched Logan watch her. She took a step toward him so she could feel his skin against hers, put her hands on him, feel his hands on her. He was warm and strong in her arms and she felt pliable, like she would do anything for Logan if he just asked it of her. She was a little afraid of how needy she also felt at that moment, how much she needed him to be there with her, but she pushed it to the back of her mind and concentrated on enjoying the touches he gifted her with. She had to keep her hands moving on him, had to keep kissing him, so she didn't think about anything else. If they kept touching, if they had sex, she could blot out the rest of the world and he would be the most important thing, the only thing, for as long as she could make it last.

She guided his hand up to her breast, and his hips moved closer to hers. She could feel his erection pressing urgently against her lower belly. His fingers on her hardening nipple made her moan quietly and close her eyes to enjoy the way his hand felt on her. He bent his head down to kiss her, to trap the moan in their mouths, and she put her tongue in his mouth and kissed him hard.

"Veronica..." he said her name softly after she let his lower lip slide between her teeth and broke the kiss.

"What?" She kissed along his jaw and down his neck while he spoke, his voice tight with want.

"Are you sure this is what you want? After this, I am not letting you go, so you need to be sure," he warned her.

"I need you, and I am sure." She certainly sounded sure to her own ears. She further convinced him by continuing to kiss a trail down his chest and waist, looking up to meet his eyes as she kneeled in front of him, then wrapping her hand gently around his hard cock, surprising herself, and probably him, with this small show of aggression. She ran her thumb along the underside of the shaft, and felt him harden even more as she watched him close his eyes and press his lips together. Her other hand smoothed over his hip and settled there to give her some stability as she began to move along the length of his erection, tentatively at first, then more forcefully, the way she knew he liked it. She planted kisses on the side of his abdomen, then moved her head around to his center, still holding him in her hand, and took the tip of his cock in her mouth softly. The noises coming out of his mouth were strangled, and they intoxicated her. She used her tongue to lave the sensitive folds of skin, and his hand moved to her cheek and through her hair, encouraging her. She moved forward, taking him deeper into her mouth, feeling powerful and submissive all at the same time. She was amazed that she could make him respond to her like this just by getting on her knees for him. She moved a hand down to between his legs and felt him open up to her, tilting his hips up slightly to let her touch him however she wanted to. She gently tested the weight of his balls in her palm and when her name ripped from his throat, she used a slight upward pressure and then ran a finger teasingly along the back of his sac, still continuing the steady rhythm she was using with her mouth around his cock. He brought a hand down to her cheek and backed himself out of her mouth, breathing hard and barely keeping control. She reluctantly took her hand away from him and let him pull her back up to her feet.

"I need a minute, and then I am going to fuck you on that table," he promised, grabbing her face between his hands and kissing her roughly, catching breaths in between kisses until his composure had mostly returned. He was looking at her in a way she had seen many times before, only now she didn't know how she had ever gone months without being looked at like that by him every day.

"This table?" She pointed back at the sturdy-looking large table behind her.

"That table. In just a minute," he confirmed, smiling at her.

"Now, what," she began teasingly as she pulled him by the hand and backed up to the table, "could you possibly do for this minute that you profess to need?" She sat on the edge of the table, her knees apart, feeling the cool veneer against the backs of her legs, and moved his hand up her thigh. He continued along the path she'd started him on, and her hands went up to tangle into his hair. She leaned back a little, angling him above her so his mouth was close to her breast. He followed her lead immediately, dipping his head down to take her nipple into his mouth. His gentle suckling had her arching her back and leaning her head back, so she could only feel when his fingers reached between her thighs, then slid up through the wetness that had started there to slowly stroke her clit. After just a couple of his rhythmic touches, she had to bite her lip to keep a cry from escaping her mouth, and that turned the sound into almost a whimper. At the sound, he settled his teeth gently around her nipple, and then she inhaled sharply. He flicked his tongue over the nub that was carefully held captive in his mouth. She lifted her head up to look down at him and reached one hand around to grasp the back of his neck, to encourage him to keep going, but he drew his head back after a moment and met her eyes. He gave her a quick firm kiss and then concentrated more fully on what the hand between her thighs was doing. He slowly pushed a long finger inside of her, then two, while using his thumb to rub across the top of her clit. She whispered his name; she felt suddenly desperate to get him to put his cock inside her. His fingers continued to slide in and out of her, and she raised her hips to meet his movements. She kept saying his name, needing more of him, but she couldn't verbalize the specifics, she could only whisper his name over and over again. She reached a hand down to his hand and stilled him, then she guided him away from her thighs and up, pulling his arm and getting him to follow with the rest of his body until he climbed onto the table with her, his legs between hers, supporting his upper body so he wouldn't crush hers. He looked at her with his liquid brown eyes and she lifted her chin to kiss him. His hands roamed across her hair and her face. She wrapped one leg around his waist and reached down between them to guide him into her. As his hard cock entered her, she held his gaze and, out of the corner of her eye, watched his jaw tighten. He pressed as deeply as he could get inside her, and she felt like she might come right then just from feeling him in her like this again.

He used his elbows to leverage himself as he began to move his hips, pulling almost all the way out and then filling her completely again, and when he could tell she was about to climax, he backed up and pulled out all the way, surprising her and making her pout a little at his absence. He quickly sat her up on the edge of the table, though, and before she fully realized what he was doing, he'd started turning her around so he had her bent over the table and he was standing behind her, his hands on her hips. He'd said something, but in the midst of her pleasure and slight confusion she'd missed it; she turned her head to the side so she could pay more attention to his question: "Is this okay?" She nodded, she just had to get him to put his cock back inside her and she didn't care what position they were in. She braced herself against the table with her hands and continued to look back at him over her shoulder so she would know if he needed her to adjust her stance. She felt the tip of his cock at her entry and tilted her hips a bit and moved back onto him to help him enter her. The different sensations when he moved in and out of her in this position brought her close to climax quickly, and as he brought his hands up the sides of her body and down her arms to her hands, leaning closely above her as he thrust deeply inside her, she began to feel the edges of an intense orgasm. He started thrusting faster and as she came a moment later, she let his name escape her mouth. He gave a few more hard thrusts as she continued to clench around him, and then she felt him come inside her, saying her name repeatedly as he slowed his movements and leaned over her more, lacing his fingers between hers and placing kisses anywhere on her back he could reach with his lips. After a minute, he pulled out of her as gently as he could. She turned to face him, still breathing a little quickly.

"I need to lie down," she confessed, remaining in the circle of his arms. "I'm a little weak in the knees right at the moment."

"Yes, please," he agreed, also catching his breath. They managed to lower themselves to the carpet, which was softer than it looked. He kissed her lips, by her count once every ten seconds, and she returned each kiss enthusiastically. As their energy began to return, he kissed her less often and spoke more.

"I don't think I'll be able to let go of you. We're going to have to move in here and have food delivered a few times a day."

"A few?"

"We need to keep our strength up," he explained his logic. She almost wished they could stay in this small room forever. Or at least until she forgot about everything that was waiting for her as soon as she crossed through the study room door and back into the real world.

"What happens next?" she asked him seriously.

"I'm hoping that next involves us leaving the library floor and going back to my place." He placed a hand on either of her cheeks and kissed her passionately. She responded in kind, and smiled at him when he pulled back from the kiss. "That isn't what you meant, I know. I just wanted to put it off for a little while longer."

"Me, too. But it isn't going away."

"What do you want to happen next? It's really pretty much up to you. I can tell you what I want; I think you already know, actually, but you're the one who's going to have to make any choices."

"It's less making the choices than it is dealing with any aftermath."

"Right." They were both quiet for a minute, holding tightly to one another. "You know, I do not envy Piznarski right now."

"I don't know what I'm going to tell him," she admitted, a renewed wave of guilt coming over her.

"The truth? Or most of it, the details would probably only rub it in his face. Believe me, I remember what it's like to be on the other end of this situation."

"What? I never--"

"Okay, no, not this exact situation, but the part where I was the one who got left out while you went happily on your way with someone else."

"Tomorrow, okay?" she said softly, almost pleading with him for a reprieve. "I'll tell him tomorrow. For tonight, can we not talk about it anymore and just go back to the hotel like you said?"

"We definitely can do that," he promised.

"We should get our clothes back on, I guess."

"For the drive over, at least."

"Optimistic about your chances for later, aren't you, Echolls?"

"The word is confident."

"The word is--" he cut off whatever insult she had been going to fire off at him with another kiss.

"What was that, Mars?"

"Um, the word is...absolutely."

part 17

Veronica took a deep breath before knocking on Piz and Wallace's door the next morning. It was early enough so they might actually still be asleep. She had awakened frightfully early herself in Logan's bed at the Neptune Grand and watched him sleep, arm crooked above his head and cynical mouth relaxed, for as long as she could stand to be still before getting out of bed and taking a shower. She left a quick note that said she hadn't run out on him and that she would see him later, then she drove around for a while until Java the Hut opened. She got a coffee while she listened to the voice mail Piz had left her the night before; he had been joking and blissfully ignorant to what she'd been doing. After trying to swallow her guilt down with hot coffee, she drove around some more until she thought it was closer to a socially acceptable hour to turn up on their doorstep.

Before she could knock, the door opened and Wallace almost bumped into her on his way out.

"V, you are here way too early. I have early practice, what's your excuse?" he said in a hushed tone.

"I need to talk to Piz," she said just as quietly. Wallace, sensing something was wrong, pulled the door closed so they could talk a little more freely.

"Talk as in 'what are we doing for breakfast' or talk as in..."

"The second one." She sighed. "I messed up. But I'm going to fix it. But this?" she pointed, indicating the room where Piz still slept, "probably not going to be pretty." He seemed rueful, but not surprised, to hear her admit it.

"Call me later?" he asked, and she nodded. "I've got to get to practice. Good luck."

"Thanks. I will need it." Wallace left, waving at her as he hefted his gym bag onto his shoulder and walked down the dorm hallway.

She returned her attention to their room, opening the door slowly and closing it behind her once she was inside.

Sleeping male college students must all look like really oversized sweet little boys. He was laying on his stomach, face to one side, one arm under his pillow and one near the edge of his bed, hand dangling over the side. She needed to go ahead and get this over with. She perched on his bed, near his waist where his sheet was gathered, and placed a hand on his unclothed back to gently shake him awake.

He groaned a little and turned over onto his side to see who was waking him up. He gave her a sleepy grin when he saw who it was, and her heart sank. She managed to return his smile for a few seconds, then thought about what was coming next.

"Hey," he said, voice scratchy with sleep.

"Morning," she returned, trying to keep the dread out of her voice, afraid she was failing.

"Where were you last night? I called you, but you didn't answer." She bit her lower lip, knowing she should take the opening he had just unsuspectingly given her and lay it all out there for him, but she found she couldn't dive right in like that. She would try the gentle approach instead - well, as gentle as she could make it, anyway.

"I need to talk to you about something," she began. He heard something in her tone and sat up in bed, fully alert now, but waiting for her to continue.

"This is hard," she admitted.

"What is it, Veronica? You can tell me." The look of concern on his face that she was pretty sure was genuinely intended solely for her welfare wasn't making it any easier.

"I can't be with you any more," she said softly, hoping to cushion the blow. She felt like a coward, ambushing him in his bed and then dumping him for Logan with absolutely no warning.

"What do you mean? Are you breaking up with me?" he asked her, worried.

"I'm sorry."

"What is going on? Did something happen? Did I do something?"

"No, you - you didn't do anything. This is all me. That sounds cliché, I know, but it's the truth. You're a perfect boyfriend, I'm just--"

"Still in love with Logan," he finished, even though that hadn't been what she was going to say. Since she couldn't deny it, she nodded. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I saw you talking to him the other day, in front of the library." He shook his head. "I am an idiot."

"You're not, and I am so sorry to do this to you." She stood up. She had to get out of there, had to get away from that broken-hearted look on his face. "I'm sorry. I really am. I have to get to class. I'll...talk to you soon?" she finished lamely, and when Piz looked up at her, the disbelief evident on his face, she hurried out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

The morning passed at a torturous pace. After waking up to find a note instead of Veronica, and for once being sorry not to have class that morning, Logan had done everything short of clean out his closets trying to find a way to pass the time until Veronica came back over that evening. Actually, maybe he should do just that. He had nothing better to do until he heard from her and maybe, somehow, karmically speaking, cleaning out all of the old things hanging around in this old room--

He had an idea. Why just clean out an old room when you could book a whole new room? All he would have to do would be to throw his clothes in a few suitcases and walk them down the hallway or maybe in the elevator to another floor. He could give them both a little bit of a fresh start of their own. Last night in this room where they'd been together in the past was like coming back to what they had shared before. A new room could be a completely clean slate for both of them. Energized, he got every piece of luggage he owned out of the closet where they were stored. He was going to have to throw some of the stuff away, or maybe donate it. He could start with the drawers that still held Duncan's old clothes. Now there was some stuff that finally needed to be cleaned out.

He went into the bedroom that Dick occupied now, which he normally avoided, partly because Dick could be...gross sometimes, and partly because he really didn't like to take the chance that he would get the mental images of the things Duncan did to Veronica on that bed. Why hadn't he moved before now? This might be the best thing for everybody. Dick had been talking about moving into the Pi Sig house; maybe he could go ahead and move in there now and his new room could be a one bedroom suite. Veronica would like that. At the very least, for today, even if the hotel couldn't move him to another room before she got here, he could go ahead and pack up Duncan's things for Goodwill. It was a start. He opened the bottom dresser drawer and started piling sweaters, polos and khakis on the floor. An envelope fell out of a folded shirt - the navy blue and white argyle polo that almost every boyfriend Veronica ever had had worn at some point. Weirdly, the envelope had his name on it. He leaned over, picked it up, and realized it looked exactly like the letter he'd found the day before, on the outside, anyway. He lifted the flap and took out the folded piece of paper covered with Veronica's handwriting. He unfolded it and read:

Dear Logan,

Sometimes I drive around at night, to get out of the apartment or out of Piz's room, to just think. And in my head I go over and over all the mistakes I've made, all the things I wish I could take back or change or fix. You are there with alarming regularity on these drives. There are so many times I find myself thinking "If I had only done that differently" when it comes to you. It's too late to change things, and regrets don't really help anyone either, but lately it seems like that's all I've got.

I don't love Piz, not like I loved you. Like I love you still. I can admit it here because I really don't think you will ever read this. But I feel like I've dug myself into a hole so deep that I can't get out of it, that all I can do is keep going through each day just like the last one.

I wish I would have let myself forgive you. I wish I would have listened to you when you told me to back down from dangerous cases. I wish I didn't need to be right all the time. I think if I had just come back to you after I found out about Madison and actually been the good girlfriend I said I was but wasn't trying hard enough at all to be, so much would be different now. We made it through an ungodly amount of stuff already and came out the other side better - happy, even. I don't know why that was the one thing I let stop me from staying with you.

I'll probably never be that good girlfriend, and I'm not sure I know why, but you seem to want me anyway, even after everything I've done, even knowing how stubborn and vindictive and awful I can be. Maybe after hearing you tell me over and over that you would do anything for me, I'm finally ready to believe you. I just have dig myself out of this hole first, and if you're still willing to wait, when I do, I hope we can try again. I do love you, and I can fix this, but it might take a little time. I just need you to keep waiting.

Love,

Veronica

P. S. -
"The boat responded
Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar
The sea was calm, your heart would have responded
Gaily, when invited, beating obedient
To controlling hands."

He recognized another part of The Waste Land and was honestly humbled and surprised by the way she had laid herself bare in this letter, which had obviously been here since before last night. She must have put it here at the same time as the other letter, but why here, and why two letters? She'd written that she didn't even expect him to read this letter. It was pretty unlike her to pour her thoughts out on paper like that, much less plant that paper somewhere he could find it, or worse yet, Dick could find it. He wished she would hurry up and get over here. The note she'd left him this morning was reassurance of a sort that she would come back to him, but a small part of him refused to believe it until he saw her again. When she let him hold her without running again, he would believe it.

part 18

Veronica braced herself for the inevitable confrontation. It was going to have to happen sooner or later, so she might as well man up and do it. Her dad was still home, as was evidenced by his car in the parking lot of their apartment complex. She had to put on some clean clothes before her class, so there was no getting around it.

She let herself in and there was her dad, sitting at the kitchen island, reading the paper and drinking coffee.

"Morning," he said, somehow managing to convey a fatherly blend of disapproval and relief in one word. Like she wasn't already feeling guilty enough.

"Morning," she returned. "I know I should have called, but something came up unexpectedly." She decided to leave out the fact that spending the night with Logan was what had come up. He put the paper down.

"Veronica, are you in some kind of trouble?" he asked her directly. "Is there something going on that I should know about? Something with school, or anything else?"

"I'm not in trouble, dad. And school is fine." She took a breath, deciding how forthcoming she needed to be with the details of her romantic relationships. Her dad had only ever accepted Logan grudgingly, for her sake. Maybe she should break that part to him later and in a more gentle fashion - for example, after she finished all of the filing, as opposed to after getting caught walking in the door after spending the whole night out. Later was better. "I broke up with Piz." Her dad looked a little surprised. He obviously thought her interpersonal issues were the least of her worries.

"I'm sorry, honey. I didn't even realize things weren't going well between the two of you." For just a few seconds, she thought her dad was more disappointed about her breakup than she was. It wasn't so much that she was happy about breaking up with Piz as it was being grateful to have another chance with Logan and recapture those feelings she used to experience but hadn't for months. Not just the Logan-related feelings, although those were definitely a large portion of what she was looking forward to, but, probably more importantly, the more general feelings like contentment and satisfaction. If she could actually shake the guilt and regret as well, then that would be a huge bonus, however undeserved it might be in the grand scheme of things.

"I'm sorry about last spring, Dad. I know you probably lost the election because of me." The abrupt change of subject threw her dad for a moment before he walked around the island to wrap her in his arms.

"Oh, Veronica," he said quietly, and for the second time in twenty-four hours, her emotions got the better of her.

"I wish I hadn't done that; I wish I could be different--" she started, and then stalled when a sob found its way out of her. Her dad pulled back from her far enough to make her look him in the eyes.

"I have never wished you could be different," he reassured her. "I do sometimes wish you would think just a little bit more about the consequences of your actions, but I hope to God you know by now that I'm on your side no matter what you do, whether you think it through or not."

Oh, what the hell; in for a penny, in for a pound. It wouldn't make anything any worse, she thought as she backed a couple of steps away from him.

"No matter what I do, huh?"

"Oh, God. Do I need to sit down for this? Are you pregnant? On drugs?" He went along with her and lightened the tone of their conversation.

"Nope. And no other crimes committed, hand to God." She held up her hand.

"Okay. What is it, then?" he asked with slightly narrowed eyes. She braced herself and jumped in.

"I'm dating Logan again."

"Is it too late to amend the 'no matter what' part?" he asked, pseudo-seriously. "Just please tell me that the twelfth time is the charm."

"All right, old man, I'm pretty sure it's only the fourth." She pretended to consider. "Or the fifth. Anyway, I have a good feeling about this time around, so no amending." She gave him one last fierce hug. "I have to get ready for class."

"And filing later, don't forget filing," he reminded her. "I love you," he said as he planted a kiss on the top of her head.

"I love you, too, Dad." She released him and started down the hallway to her room so she could change clothes. She was very lucky. She had gone from invasive, rampant uncertainty to knowing without a doubt that there were at least two people in the world who loved her unconditionally. She had really always believed that, but to hear it confirmed out loud made all the difference. It didn't magically fix everything, but today, for the first time in months, she felt hopeful.

"Logan hasn't committed any new felonies, has he? Cause I don't 'no matter what' him," she heard from the kitchen.

"Dad!" she protested. "Between the two of us, I am currently the more felonious, so you're going to have to find a way to get over it." She heard his loud groan and smiled.

The elevator ride up to the Presidential Suite was the longest she ever remembered it being. Definitely longer than the one for the Alterna-Prom. At last the door slid open and she walked down the hall to Logan's door. It didn't take long once she'd knocked for the door to open, revealing Logan. She was pretty sure the quickly widening grin on his face was mirrored in her own.

He held out a hand for her to take, and when she complied, he gently pulled her into the suite and into the circle of his arms after closing the door behind her.

"Finally," he said softly and lowered his lips to hers for a hungry kiss which she returned eagerly.

"Mmm. This was the longest day ever," she agreed.

"How was your day?" Not releasing her from his hold, he backed up, moving them to the couch so they could sit down. She snuggled up against him, and she instantly felt safe and comforted, like the more trying parts of the day were longer ago than they actually were and mattered less by virtue of their distance. Somehow, his presence had become the most exciting and the most calming thing in the world at the same time. She had come to realize that needing him so much was a little less scary than she used to think.

"My day was fine. Some parts were better than others, but at least we won't need to sneak around." She was glad for that. She was pretty sure now that if she hadn't come clean with Piz, at least mostly clean, anyway, that she would have kept on seeing Logan no matter what. She was glad she hadn't put any of them in that position, even though the revelation had come about a day too late. "Even my dad knows." He looked at her incredulously.

"Veronica Mars, you are being positively forthcoming lately."

"Weird, huh?"

"Very. I'm not sure I know what to do with it."

"I can give you a couple of suggestions." She began kissing his neck just below his ear.

"Before you make me completely forget about it, I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" She stopped kissing him to listen for details. Happy surprises were the good kind.

"I hope you're not too attached to this suite, because I am moving."

"Moving? Where to?" She wasn't really all that attached to this suite. To some of the memories that had been created there, maybe, but to the actual physical rooms, nope.

He smiled wryly. "Just down to the third floor. I got a one-bedroom suite; they already moved most of my stuff down there." He kissed the tip of her nose. "I thought it might be nice for me to get a little bit of a fresh start. Get out of this place. Dick's moving into the Pi Sig house, and I think there are too many old memories here, between Duncan and the various melodramatic episodes from our own history. I can start over a little. We both can." She stayed quiet, considering Logan's gesture. "Say something," he coaxed her in a jokingly agonized voice, running his fingers through her hair. The way it felt made her close her eyes and smile and she felt him relax a bit.

"I think it's perfect," she told him when she opened her eyes again, and she meant it. He smiled at her and then kissed her deeply on the lips.

"Do you want to say goodbye to the old bed or break in the new one?" he asked as he stood up, pulling her up to her feet as well.

"How long do you have this room?"

"Through the end of the month."

"Well, then, why not the new bed? We can always come back and say goodbye later. Plus, in the new room, there's no chance Dick will come home at some point. Tell me there's no chance Dick will come into the new room at some point," she pleaded with him.

"Nope, just you and me."

"I like the sound of that."

He woke up to a distinct lack of Veronica in the new bed. It already felt like "their" bed. This new room had possibly been the best thing he'd done in months. He sat up, concentrating to see if he could hear any noises that would let him know where she was. He heard her out by the front door of the room and got out of bed to go see what she was up to. As he entered the living room, he saw her getting a room key out of his wallet. She looked a little guilty, maybe, when she realized he was in the room and not still asleep.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, wondering what he had interrupted.

"Yeah," she said brightly, and he recognized the 'leave it alone' message she was trying to send him. So he ignored it.

"What are you doing?"

"I left something up in your old room. I was just going to go get it; I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Can't you get it later? What do you need so much at-" he checked the wall clock, "-3:07 am?" He hugged her and felt her lean into him. That was a good sign, at least. If she was having any regrets, she probably would have shrunk noticeably away from him.

"I don't need it, exactly, but..."

"Is there something up there you don't want me to see?"

"No, nothing like that," she said just an instant too quickly. He was pretty sure he knew what was going on, but watching her squirm was so much fun sometimes. He decided not to put her out of her misery just yet. "You know what; it can wait. I'll just get it later." He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Later, as in after I fall asleep and you sneak up there by yourself? Oh, Veronica. Do you think I've learned nothing about you over these past few years?" he teased her.

She pouted at him. "I'm beginning to think you've learned just a little too much." She lifted her face up to kiss him - another distraction technique, if he wasn't mistaken, but one that he welcomed. "Can't a girl have a few secrets?" she said with a flirtatious look up through lowered eyelids. As much fun as this was, he figured she was going to get frustrated when her stalling efforts didn't put him back in the bed asleep and out of her way. He was just going to lay it all out there.

"I found it already," he told her and quickly kissed her slightly opened shocked mouth.

"What do you think you found?" she asked once she recovered a bit.

"Veronica. Come on. It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Yeah. You're going to have to be more specific for me." She was not going to give in easily. He had to hand it to his girl - she was determined.

"The little thing you left in amongst Duncan's old clothes. I packed them up to donate them and there it was. I don't think of you any differently, don't worry. I maybe even admire you more for it, you know. Maybe we should go get it and bring it back down here with us, hmmm?" He gave her his best pervy glance and kissed her. It was only fair to give her a little time to think through her next comeback.

As expected, she returned his kiss with equal fervor and after removing her lips from his she looked ready to go for another verbal round. God, he loved her. And if she realized just how well he knew some of her less flattering quirks, she might just run for the hills yet.

"All right, let's go get...it." And the slight pause gave her away completely. He couldn't do this to her anymore.

"I give up, no more teasing," he told her and rubbed his thumb over the small wrinkles of confusion on her forehead. "It's in my shaving bag in the bathroom. I love you, too." He held her face in his hands and watched the realization dawn that he was talking about her letter and not some sex toy or whatever she'd thought that he'd thought he'd found. She smiled even as she bit her lip, slightly embarrassed.

"When did you find it?"

"This morning, packing up Duncan's stuff. That part was completely true." He paused, and when she didn't say anything, he asked her, "Why did you leave it there at all, if you didn't think I would ever read it?"

"I guess I...wanted to dare you to find it, maybe? Like the situation was out of my hands once that letter was out of my hands, literally. That I wouldn't have to make any hard decisions if you somehow found that letter. I didn't want to make it easy, though. I don't know if that makes any sense."

"I did think it was strange that you would leave it where Dick could get his hands on it so easily if he started looking."

"And thank God he didn't. But I really do feel like I've reached an understanding with Dick. He does what I tell him and I don't ruin his life. So when he let me in the other day, I actually told him to avoid that drawer upon pain of death."

"That's my girl."

"I meant it."

"I'm sure you did. You don't joke when it comes to vengeance." She rolled her eyes at him.

"I meant what I wrote in the letter."

He took a few seconds to look her in the eyes, and stood there in the new room next to her with his arms around her. Her arms were around him, there was no hesitance on her face, and he felt safe and happy like he hadn't felt in months.

"Every word," she continued when he didn't speak. He nodded, understanding what she was trying to tell him. She loved him just as much as he loved her, and they were ready to try like hell to be together again.