Summary: This story picks up mid-scene in 3x03, The Wichita Linebacker. Right after Keith compliments Weevil on his fine detective skills, he starts to rummage around for Eli's next job. Turns out he forgot the case files he had set aside for Eli Navarro at home. How drastically could this change the course of events in his life? A small what if fiction centered around Weevil's growth in Mars Investigations. Eventual Weever, but mostly just Weevil. This story will try to follow the season 3 story line as closely as possible within the AU.

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine. Rob is god, ect.

Chapter 1

"Now, have you slept yet?"

"Not yet."

Dust particles were visible in the late morning light of Private Investigator Keith Mars' office. Eli Navarro pursed his lips as he leaned back in his chair. Across from him, the older man flipped through a stack of manila folders for the third time. He gave up and rocked back in his seat with an exasperated sigh, clearly not finding what he needed.

"Great." Keith drawled loudly with an accompanied head roll, reaching for the phone.

Eli could see Veronica making the same over-exaggerated gestures in his head and chuckled briefly before sliding into a less expressive exterior. He knew his eyes were still shining, but figured letting the sheriff read him a bit was a good way to make the man more comfortable with him. They had a long history of meeting on unsavory terms. At first it was curfew busts; Eli out wandering the neighborhood with his cousins. They met over progressively worse terms. The older Mars was even responsible for Eli's first few visits to juvi.

Keith began to dial as he propped the phone between his shoulder and ear. "The case is a couple who lost their adult son a few years ago in a car accident. Now they think their grandson is being abused by their daughter-in-law."

This was a story that Eli had heard a few dozen times. His grandmother soothing his older sister in Spanish. A frozen chicken breast held to a welted cheek while her nose still bled at age twelve. Chardo's mom dropping him off at three in the morning, screaming that getting hit is his his own fault. All while his eight year old cousin cried, pleading with his mom to take him back home with her. Abuelita found chipped teeth behind his broken lip the next morning. Weevil sucked in a deep breath, remembering the beating issued by the PCH members he had also considered family. He nodded, both to clear his mind and show Keith he was up to speed on the situation.

The phone stopped ringing and Keith shifted in his seat. "Hey Veronica, you at home? I left some case files in my drawer. Can you pull out the Thomas family file and wait for Eli to come pick it up?" He paused and his eyebrows dropped unpleasantly as the tiny blonde spoke on the other line.

"What's in it for you. Huh. How about your father's undying gratitude? Oh really, and what did you have in mind? Hah! Fine, you can have the leftover rice but leave my egg rolls alone, you menace. "

Keith dropped the phone back on its hook and gave Eli a look that said 'see what I deal with?' The ex-con smirked in response. If anyone knew the pain of bargaining for favors with Veronica, it was the two of them. Keith stood up from his seat and walked around to the now rising Navarro.

"Drop by the apartment, pick up the case file. Then go home, Eli. Get a few hours of sleep and go back on stakeout. Think you can do it?"

"I'll go back on stakeout right after I get that file, if you need me to."

"I like the hustle, but the kid's in school 'til three."

Eli tried to give a grateful smile, but some part of him held back. Keith snickered at the sneer on his well-intentioned secretary's face and patted the kid on his arm. There seemed to be more potential in the boy than he assumed. The private eye had imagined wearily keeping Mr. Navarro on fluff work until Veronica's confidence in her friend was proven wrong. It seemed he might owe his daughter's character judgment an apology.

Weevil had assumed the day he bashed the vending machine at the car wash was the last time he'd ever see Veronica Mars. She hadn't visited in jail. She wasn't involved in the legal proceedings that lead to his summer vacation in chino. For all he knew, she was just at that car wash for what the menu offered. It wasn't until later that night he allowed himself to accept that Veronica's visits were never a coincidence. She was checking in on him and that relaxed him. When the sheriff called him to offer the secretary position, regret already lacing his voice, Weevil knew V still had his back.

He arrived at the complex and followed a resident in through the otherwise locked gate. He had come by before, but always waited outside the complex on his bike. He figured it was safer to stay there than risk having his accomplice's dad kick him back out again. Stopping on a worn welcome mat, Weevil smoothed his shirt down then pressed the doorbell for the Mars residence, squaring out his shoulders and shuffling his feet. The door opened almost instantaneously. Veronica was in the middle of chewing but motioned for Weevil to come inside, a half-eaten egg roll in her hand.

"Pretty sure I heard somethin' about not eating the egg roll, but I don't really know the sheriff's intonation yet or anything. Maybe it was a suggestion."

As he spoke Veronica stopped chewing momentarily to scowl at him. She moved aside as Weevil strode past smirking. He looked over the kitchen lazily, noting the nearly empty take-out containers, and then walked into the living room to get a better look at family photographs.

"Well aren't you a dapper Weevil." He recognized the compliment, masked by her teasing voice, "But I don't know, I kind of miss the clown-bedazzled jumpsuits."

"Yeah, I save that number for the weekends now. Nice place you got, V. Cute pictures. You got your moms face." Veronica pressed her elbows into the kitchen island while he leaned closer to a family picture by the front window, "You definitely ain't got her chest, though."

"You want the case file or what?" Veronica snipped in good humor, holding up the folder.

Weevil exhaled a laugh and walked towards the kitchen, but when he reached for the folder Veronica pulled it out of reach and open the folder, summarizing out loud. Weevil listened casually, but his main focus was viewing her profile. She was tilting her head away from him as she read, giving him an excellent view of her long neck.

"Six year old grandchild, Tod, in the primary care of his mother. Been showing up to school hiding bruises for awhile. Teachers noticed a significant change of behavior five months ago, brought it to the grandparents attention." Veronica dragged out her sentence, as if unfinished. She frowned, saddened, and Weevil caught her staring sympathetically at the photo of Tod. Weevil nodded; he had seen her mask slip before. She turned towards him, still holding the file open and out of his grasp. She continued in a softer tone, but her expression was unreadable again.

"You know what you're looking for, right? You want a series of photos of this kid being hurt to bring to the grandparents. This way they can appeal for custody. And we're not talking a picture of a small smack on the back of the head."

Keith had given him a run down of the basics when he started the job. Still, hearing the overview of what the pictures needed to be and connecting it to what he would be witnessing were two different things. Weevil smacked his lips.

"I know that! It's money shot 101. I've been watchin' you do this damn long enough." He snatched the folder out of her hand and flipped to the picture of his target. Weevil hadn't known the kids age. He decided to tease her instead of voicing his concerns, not sure if they were at a level that entailed open emotion.

"I used to think you were some sort of a big shot, V, but I'm not too bad at this detective thing myself."

"I'm just sayin', these injury reports are pretty serious. He's had a few broken bones from playing soccer. Which, in case you didn't know, is the new he-fell-down-the-stairs."

When Weevil didn't respond beyond an eyebrow raise, she reached across the island and grabbed his arm gently to demand attention. He looked up from his case and she continued, "Look. Just remember it's not all rich men cheating on their wives in motels. You're going to see some things you wish you could change. But the change comes later, when this kid gets a new home."

They both knew from the broken vending machine at Jumbo's Clown Wash that he was still quick to solve problems with a fight. Weevil wasn't honestly sure if he'd be able to keep himself in check, but he knew he had to try. He grimaced and nodded again, looking at the small hand resting on his arm. Her phone started to ring and she moved to answer it, leaving him disappointed. It wasn't often their partnership allowed them intimacy. Maybe things were changing, his brain whispered as he watched the tiny blonde. She checked the caller ID and motioned at him for silence.

"Hello, this is Allie Fisher with the Hearst Free Press, how may I help you?," Weevil took a mental note on the secretarial speak as she continued, "Why yes, we did call the student union desk about an hour ago. One of our reporters was interested in interviewing a certain Larry Eilcolm about his participation in your current art show, but was uncertain if he would be present for the gallery today or... oh that's super, thank you so much. I'll be sure to let her know. Thanks, you too!"

"So now you're the whole newspaper staff, huh V?"

"Just call me Arts & Leisure. I'm working on a case." She walked around and picked her bag up from the bar stool next to him, slinging it over her shoulder and looking up at him. Weevil straightened his posture a bit, not wanting to seem too fidgety with their close proximity. "It's looking like the ex-lover in the dorm room with sticky hands."

"Honestly? That sounds kinda hot. If you wanna record that for surveillance reasons..." She smacked him for that one while leading the way to the front door. Opening it, she swiveled back around to face him. He couldn't help but mentally store away the image, Veronica's eyes displayed a knowing glint and her lips curled into smile. The girl was sexy, he had stopped denying that over a year ago.

"Another thing. If you do intervene ever, keep your cover. It makes all the difference between a restraining order and a paycheck." Her tone was playfully exasperated just as her dad's had been earlier that afternoon. Weevil scowled and rolled his eyes. Did she think he had so little control that she had to hand him a backup plan? He followed her out and waved a quick goodbye as they jumped into their separate vehicles. He sunk into the drivers seat and let out a breath. He deserved every second of sleep he got this afternoon, but he knew it would take a few restless turns to forget about the boss' daughter.

R&R! Constructive criticism and beta-readers for the next chapters are always welcome.