DISCLAIMER: Characters of Veronica Mars, any recognizable dialogue, and the canon events of their storyline belong to Rob Thomas.

A/N:

I've read some great VM fics (various pairings). I haven't previously written anything in this fandom, but when this idea hit me, I had to write it ... just to get it out of my head.

Chapter 1

Veronica POV

Life's funny sometimes. Well, maybe 'funny' isn't the right word.

Puzzling. Peculiar. Perplexing. Perhaps, those words would be more apropos.

You think you know somebody. And then one day – wham!

Sometimes, it only takes an instant. A look. A touch.

A moment. One of those moments.

And you can't believe it – can't believe what you're seeing and that you didn't see it before.

But then you do … see it. See him.

Everything turns upside down in that instant. Everything you thought you knew somehow shifts and reshapes like a kaleidoscope.

Looking through a lens and seeing the view finally come into focus.

It surprises you somehow. It might even make you smile or laugh nervously.

But 'funny' is not the right word.

And sometimes ...

Well, sometimes it's an accumulation of "little things" sprinkled with some of those moments ... piling up over time. Until, they finally tip the scales.

[

There was a night recently when someone showed up unexpectedly to help me.

We had known each other for years. Growing up in the same town, you're bound to bump into the same people on occasion – especially when you're in the same grade. But when your father is the sheriff and the boy in question starts getting arrested when you're twelve, you know who he is and he knows who you are. No proper introduction needed.

When we were younger, we talked sometimes … the way kids do – not caring about what brand of clothing you're wearing or what neighborhood you live in or how much money your parents make or what cars they drive.

[

One summer, my family took a couple weeks to go camping in several state and national parks in California, Oregon, and Washington, even a few of days across the border in Canada. I remember one campground in particular. Dad told me later on that it was on Vancouver Island. I had met a couple of kids on the playground and when we went back to our campsites for dinner, we realized we were neighbors. I invited them to join us for s'mores later that night.

The thing about that day and that night that was so amazing was that those kids did not speak a word of English and I did not speak a word of French. And yet, we understood each other perfectly.

We played and we laughed.

We jumped in puddles and caught fireflies.

We found just the right sticks for toasting marshmallows.

I did not realize until years later that some of the best friendships are born that way – not people grouped together because they are the same, but people who are drawn together by a shared experience and who benefit from the fact that they come from different backgrounds.

My favorite photo in that vacation album is of me with those kids – taken the next morning as our parents were packing up to leave the campground.

[

I remember a few times like that when I knew Eli as a kid – before he started getting into trouble and my dad told me to stay away from him and the other boys he hung around. Dad made it clear that it wasn't about where they lived, saying that there were good people in his neighborhood just like there were good people in our neighborhood.

What I learned later on was that our neighborhood, in addition to having good people in it, also had not-so-good people. But I digress.

I remember being at the Sheriff's Department to see Dad when Weevil would get arrested during junior high. I could see he was trying to act tough with my father and the deputies. I could see how he would react when his grandmother came to pick him up. But I also saw how kind his eyes were when I would smile at him.

Sometimes at school, he would watch me like I was a puzzle he was trying to figure out. At some point, I stopped noticing him and he stopped noticing me.

Neptune was … well, Neptune. The kids in this town learn from a very young age how to sort shapes, sizes, and colors. My group of friends was different from his group of friends. Sorted.

Then one day (unbeknownst to me), our worlds overlapped again through a mutual connection to someone other than my dad.

Lilly Kane.

I did not know until later, but it was undeniable – her actions brought us together.

When she died, it set off a series of events that changed my life. When it first happened, I might have said that it changed the world around me, but with the passage of time, I see that what changed was my perception of the world around me.

The world didn't change. I did. I changed in order to better fit into what I knew now to be reality.

In this reality, I lost old friends and made new ones.

In this reality, I also did favors for boys my dad had warned me about when I was a child.

Admittedly, Weevil was different now than when we were younger, but then again, maybe not so different. Even as a kid, he had a thing for bikes. It's true what they say about boys and their toys: bigger and more expensive.

Now that Dad was a P.I. and no longer Sheriff, he sometimes did some things that weren't exactly on the up and up. I had learned a thing or two (or a dirty dozen) from him. So although he would still prefer that I not hang out with the local criminal element, he couldn't really fault me for occasionally associating with someone who could help me out now and then. Could he?

The same sense of justice that compelled me to cut Wallace down from the flagpole was the same sense of justice that can't stand to see 09ers treated like they are perfect and the same sense of justice that knows oftentimes Lamb gets it wrong. Sometimes, the kid from the wrong side of the tracks is just an easy target, not actually the one who perpetrated that particular crime.

So we exchanged favors. Weevil and me. Not exactly friends, but not enemies either. Allies, I guess you could say.

Shakespeare was onto something: "Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows."

[

[

So, about that night ... I had not expected him to show up, had not asked him to. But there he was. And thank God he did. Not sure I'd be alive to tell the tale if he hadn't taken it upon himself to play the role of protector that night.

I was working on a case. I won't bore you with the details of it now ... except to say that while looking into something else entirely, I stumbled upon a connection to the Fitzpatricks. I had only heard of them at this point. Without consulting mugshots at the station, I wouldn't have known them if I ran into them on the street. But I knew their reputation enough to know that if they were connected to the case I was working – well, things could get messy and I should probably get some assistance.

I had asked Weevil to check out some info for me. He was able to confirm enough of it that he was concerned and ordered a couple of his boys to watch out for me and report back to him.

One night, I decided to do a little undercover work. I was going to check out a club where I might find the next piece of my current puzzle. The boys saw me leave my apartment in boots, a miniskirt, a camisole top, and more hair and makeup products than I normally wear. They immediately called Weevil. Once they knew where I was headed, they called him back with an address.

Imagine my surprise when I'm standing in line waiting to get into this club … and a leather-clad arm encircled my waist, as a low voice whispered just behind my ear: "Just roll with me here, V. I'm your backup tonight."

I spun around in his embrace, looked him right in the eyes and cooed, "Baby, you made it! I thought you would never get here."

"Couldn't let my girl go out alone, now could I?" His gaze was heavy on me as he said, "And the way you look tonight … no way I'm letting you out of my sight."

For the remainder of the wait in line, we pawed at one another just enough to be convincing as a couple. Once we got inside, we sat down at a table and were able to talk.

I gave him my sweetest look (in case anyone was watching) while I spat at him, "What exactly do you think you're doing here?"

"Saving your sweet ass, chica." He had leaned closer, so that we would not be overheard.

"My sweet ass is just fine."

He tilted his head as he countered, "Yes, it is. But that's not the point. The, uh, clientele here can get a bit rough. So when the boys told me what you were wearing and where you were going—"

"Wait. Who told you? And what do you care what I'm wearing?" Purely for the sake of keeping up appearances (or so I told myself), I ran the tip of my index finger down the side of his neck, continuing down his chest.

"Okay, first, I'm gonna assume you are here undercover – which means while we're arguing or whatever the hell this is, you're wasting time. But to answer your last question: when a hot chick wears something revealing, I'm gonna care … at least a little bit. Red-blooded male, here."

"Still wanna know what you meant by the boys telling you, but did you just say that you think I'm hot?" I bit my lower lip while I twirled my hair.

He rubbed the back of his head as he shook away that last question. "After you had me check out that lead for you, I got a little worried since it looked like this could land you on the Fitzpatricks' doorstep. I told the boys to keep an eye on you."

"And to let you know if they thought I needed backup?" I waited, but he did not reply. "And what? They told you I left my house without my burka and you were concerned another red-blooded male might look at me."

"Woah, sweetheart. Didn't mean it like that. I know you think you're all badass and honestly you can take care of yourself in most circumstances, but I wouldn't be able to look at myself in the mirror if something happened to a girl and I knew I could've done something about it."

"So this has nothing to do with me? You'd do this for any girl? Any random girl. How many girls you got them following?" I smirked, letting him know that I wasn't angry – not exactly.

"Alright, so now that I'm here, you gonna tell me the plan?"

In my best affectation of an old movie voice, I said, "Well, I'm looking for this dame, see." I laughed and then continued, "Seriously though, I am looking for a girl, a woman, a particular woman. And although I do not expect her to be here tonight, I'm hoping to find a lead. Detective work is slower and way less glamorous than it looks on tv and in the movies."

"How do you want to play this?"

"Well, this – what we're doing now – is a good way for us to see the whole room. You looking over my shoulder, me looking over yours."

"Yeah, but wouldn't we have a better view if we were closer to the middle of the room?" He raised one eyebrow as he asked.

"What are you getting at?"

"Care to dance?" He stood and held out his hand.

And just like that, the boy who never went to school dances swept me off my feet. He was a natural on the dance floor. He knew how to lead better than any guy our age I had ever danced with. So easy to follow his lead. Our bodies seemed to know each other intuitively.

Right now, in this moment – removed from our normal setting at school, away from our neighborhoods, friends, families – it was just about me and him. And we didn't need words.

I found myself thinking of Cherry Valance in The Outsiders saying, "I could fall in love with Dallas Winston." Yep, total 'good girl' bait.

It was easy to forget about everything else. That was dangerous for a couple reasons: 1) at the end of the day, he's still the leader of a motorcycle gang and 2) I was working a case and couldn't afford to get distracted.

As if he could read my mind, he moved his mouth to my ear and said, "Tell me what I should be looking for."

"Anything shifty, anything that doesn't fit. Some of what I found so far could mean that this could involve drugs, human trafficking, possibly stolen goods. So—"

"Any activity that looks vaguely illegal?" His voice was thick with sarcasm.

"Exactly."

"Think I can recognize that when I see it." He laughed and I felt his breath warm on my neck.

After a quiet moment, I asked, "You gonna tell me why you were so worried about me being here by myself?"

"I know enough about the place that I wouldn't want any girl I knew comin' here alone." He pulled back to look me in the eye. His expression was part caring, part warning.

The music changed and I suggested that we go back to the table. As we started to sit down, he leaned toward me and said, "Just trust me. Okay?"

Before I could reply – or even think of a reply – he pulled me against himself as he sat down. I found myself straddling his lap, trying not to look shocked.

He said matter-of-factly, "You can see behind me and I can see behind you. That was what you suggested, right?"

I swallowed and managed to voice, "Mm-hmm."

He muttered something about making it look good for anyone who might be watching. I didn't think about what he meant until his hands were roaming places that … well, let's just say that when I was dating Duncan, this would have been way past what I would have considered appropriate PDA.

While he was describing what he saw behind me, one of his hands slid a little higher on my thigh, up under the edge of my miniskirt. I wasn't expecting it. And although I managed to not jump or flinch noticeably, he felt me stiffen.

"Sorry, V. Wasn't paying attention. Well, I was paying attention to the people behind you … just, uh, not what my hands were doing. No need to taser me, right?"

I relaxed into the arm he had around my back and the nervous look left his face. My legs had started to become uncomfortable and I shifted in such a way that he was now becoming uncomfortable.

He firmly grabbed both sides of my pelvis with his hands and held me still as he said urgently through gritted teeth, "V, you need to stop that ... unless you actually intend on starting something. In which case, I'm gonna need an updated version of the ground rules."

My heart began to race the moment his hands made contact with my hips. My breathing pattern shifted, though I tried to keep it steady. I knew that I shouldn't, but I couldn't help it – I looked into his eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes. The same ones that had studied me when we were kids. The same ones that always seemed to be filled with kindness when I had smiled at him. Those eyes framed with lush, full lashes.

Damn, if he batted those at me right now, he'd own me.

Just as I was about to say something to break the tension, he ducked his head toward my neck and pulled my head down too. "I just saw one of the Fitzpatrick brothers. He's with a couple guys, but I didn't see their faces."

My lips inadvertently brushing the skin on his neck as I said, "They don't know who I am, so why are you worried about hiding my face?"

"That may be so, but they do know my face and if they see you with me, that'll put a target on your back faster than this investigation of yours."

We stayed like that for a couple of minutes, faux making out. Then, he said again, "Trust me." He stood up, taking me with him, and steered me down the hallway – all the while, nuzzling my neck and pulling my hair toward my face to prevent anyone from getting a good look at me.

Before I knew what was happening, he pushed open the door to the women's restroom. He quickly shut the door behind us and verified that we were alone. Easy to check. None of the stalls had doors.

"Now what?" I asked.

"We wait a bit. Then, I get you out the back door without them seeing us."

As someone was turning the doorknob, he pulled me into the first stall. Pressing my back into the wall and pulling my one foot up to rest on the toilet seat, he stepped between my legs. His entire body was flush against mine.

When my eyes widened in surprise, he mouthed the words: trust me.

The person had come in, locked the doorknob, and moved the trashcan in front of the door. Then, he came to stand in front of the stall we now occupied.

Weevil pulled my head to the opposite side of his neck as he said to the guy, "My girl and I were looking for a little privacy. You mind?"

A/N:

When I originally posted this chapter, I had written 7K words and divided it into chapters. I posted Ch 1 the day after I wrote it, planning to post the rest soon after and mark it complete. But I got curious about what led up to the scene at the end of this chapter. Then, it didn't take long before I could see a different version of the Season 1 finale play out in my head. So, I continued writing.

Thanks for reading!

~Jen