Many people found this story hard to follow at the time I first wrote it, so a note of explanation: the story begins at the end of season two, then flashes back, the flashes forward to season three.

"Okay, but I'm warning you—he doesn't carry much cash!"

Veronica smirked as she saw Kendall's spine stiffen, the brunette's slender form contorting with a kind of controlled rage. The barb was a toss-off, not really intended to harm, decidedly not friendly, but Kendall seemed wound pretty tight.

"Somehow I doubt it's guilt," Veronica muttered.

"Mmm?" Logan questioned, frowning down at her in confusion as she turned her attention back to him with a smile.

"Nothing, I was just thinking about your playmate and her newfound millions. Insurance cash sure goes a long way in consoling the family."

Veronica lifted her duffle from the floor and started down the hall.

"Ex-playmate, I'll have you know," Logan corrected, following the petite blonde across the tiled floor.

Veronica tossed her hair over her shoulder as she looked back at him with a teasing grin.

"You mean, she won't be joining us at the Grand anytime soon? I was hoping I could get her to teach me a few things—even if she has to charge, I'm sure you can afford it. Besides, if we become BFFs, maybe I could borrow some of her clothes. Do you think I'd fill out her Satan costume?"

"It will be a tough call. But the real question is, if you lend her your halo, do you think she'd tarnish it in five minutes or ten?"

Veronica snorted, swatting him on the arm. She'd long ago lost her halo, and the words to tell him so were on the tip of her tongue. She swallowed them, fighting back the urge to correct him, remind how long-lost her innocence truly was. Logan had been so oddly cheerful these past few days, obviously trying to put the past in the past and move on. They had skirted the big issues, the rooftop, his father's blood spattered across a TV screen, Veronica's screaming accusation of Cassidy—there was so much left unsaid. After New York, after this blissful escape from Neptune, Veronica would return to him and they would work this out.

She'd meant what she said, she would be back, and everything would be fine.

"Veronica?" Logan asked impatiently, and she realized her daydreaming thoughts were putting her behind schedule. Logan stood at the back of his yellow monstrosity, one hand held out for her bag, which she tossed to him. Slinging it into the trunk, he sauntered around to her door, opening it and bowing as she climbed inside.

"So very gentleman-like," she noted through the open window.

He smiled at her, gently, and his warm brown eyes filled with a faraway look.

"Come on," he countered softly, "You'll be late. And I am nothing if not a perfect gentleman."

The ride to the airport was quick, full of easy banter. When Logan exited the highway and pulled into the terminal, a comfortable silence spread through the car. Veronica watched Logan, toying with their joined fingers on the console between them as she studied his face.

Logan stacked her bags neatly on the sidewalk next to her, and he asked for the third time if she had her ticket. Veronica waved it at him, assuring him that sometimes, on very special occasions, she acted responsibly.

Veronica didn't reach for her bags, but for him. Pulling him onto the curb with her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and felt his hands tighten around her waist.

"I miss you already," he whispered.

She kissed him, rising to her tiptoes to reach his lips. Pressing herself against him, she let him deepen their embrace. He tasted uniquely Logan, spicy and sweet and she could smell his cologne. She hoped her shirt captured some of that vague perfume; she wanted him with her on the overly-sterile plane ride.

He broke the kiss, leaned past her and gathered her bags. Placing the strap of her duffle over her shoulder, he handed her the handle of her rolling suitcase.

His hand cupped her cheek, and before he could kiss her a chaste goodbye, she confessed, "I'll miss you too."

The XTerra pulled away, sunlight glinting off the windows, forming patterns of light that made the loud color blinding. Veronica turned away, heading inside when memories of last summer flooded her mind.

It had been a different kind of spider-web pattern then, not of light but of glass. The shards were everywhere, and Logan's bare arm was bleeding. Veronica herself was unscathed; she'd been covered by his body, protected by his strength.

"Get out of the car on your side," Logan commanded quietly.

"Your arm," Veronica began, sliding out of the car and onto the ground, "Come inside, we need to clean that."

She had been wrong earlier, her father wasn't home. A note tacked to the fridge informed her he'd gone out with Alicia and wouldn't be back until late, and pizza was in the fridge if she wanted any.

Veronica washed his arm carefully, searching for embedded shards and finding none.

"Whatever hit you must had bounded off or fallen out already, all of these look pretty shallow."

"I'm so sorry," he breathed.

"What, that someone doesn't like you? Then I apologize as well."

"You were in the car, Veronica! They could have hit you. I didn't think Weevil would be so stupid." Logan's rage was palpable, shimmering around him in her small bathroom.

"You don't know that Weevil was the shooter, Logan. Don't do anything yet, please. Let me do some digging." Her eyes met his in a silent plea.

"Fine," his tone was harsh, but the anger wasn't directed at her. His eyes swept across her face, his fingertips barely brushing her cheek as he tucked a loose stand of hair behind her ear.

Weevil denied any involvement, and Veronica believed him. Logan didn't. She could tell from the way he kept by her side while they were in public, pulling her close if he caught a glimpse of studded black leather.

Logan drove her to the beach every evening, and Veronica would read her book on a blanket in the failing light. Logan (at her insistence) spread his homework out, sometimes running after an errant page caught by the wind.

When the wind picked up the chill from the sea spray, the couple moved to the XTerra. Veronica had discovered that when Logan opened the trunk door and lay the backseat down, the air still smelled salty, but the plush cushions made sitting much more comfortable. Protected from the breeze, Veronica could lay down next to Logan and trace the contours of his chest with her fingers.

Each night would end with a make-out session that left Veronica breathless, her body aching for more. Unsure of how to ask and not entirely confident that she wanted what Logan could give her, Veronica contented herself to deep kisses and cautious caresses. He moved slowly with her, stopping if she stiffened or flinched.

Tonight, she knew she wanted more. Logan's hands ran along her exposed stomach, teasing the hem of her shirt. Kissing her lips briefly, he moved to suckle her neck, sliding along her skin until he reached the spot just under her earlobe. Veronica wrapped her hands around his neck, raking her fingers through his hair.

She gasped, a broken sound that had Logan pulling back to look at her face. She'd suppressed most of her responses to him, embarrassed that he could elicit such feelings, such sounds from her. It seemed like a weakness, but the look he gave her told her he was not thinking of her as a weakling.

"Do you want me to stop?" Logan questioned, and when she didn't respond immediately, he started moving away from her, saying quickly, "I'm sorry, baby, I'm not trying to—"

"Don't stop, Logan." She had his full attention now, "I-I trust you."

He exhaled, a nervous, giddy sound. Leaning back over her, he pressed a kiss to her lips, settling his body over hers. He balanced on his arms, tangling his fingers into her hair as he kissed her again and again, sucking her tongue into his mouth and teasing her bottom lip with his teeth. His cheek felt like hot silk on hers as she trailed her own kisses over his face.

Tugging at the cotton tee she wore, Logan reversed their positions and sat up. Veronica now straddled his lap, raising her arms to allow him to pull her shirt off completely. She reached behind her back, battling the clasp of her bra before Logan's fingers covered hers and completed the task. Veronica flushed, feeling exposed and naïve before him.

His eyes met hers, and he murmured, "So beautiful," before taking control of her mouth once again.

His hands cupped her breasts, his fingertips running along her smooth skin. His lips moved lower, leaving a moist trail down her neck and chest. When he reached her breasts, he tipped her onto her back, his fingers rubbing small circles around her nipples.

He pursed his lip as she watched, blowing cool air over her skin. Her left nipple tightened into a point, and he smiled, moving to close his lips over her. His right thumb teased her other breast, applying pressure, then backing off.

When his tongue swirled around her hardened nipple, Veronica moaned. Logan continued his ministrations, switching to pull her right breast into his mouth. With his left hand, he traced erratic patterns on her stomach, popping the button on her jeans. Her hips moved against him as he pushed her zipper down.

Her hands bunched in the fabric of his shirt when he licked a trail from her breasts to her bellybutton, and Logan let her pull his shirt off before he continued down.

Removing her jeans with one quick tug, he smiled up at her.

"Pink stars, Veronica? I half expected to see skulls."

She would have bit back, snapping that she was no wannabe punk, but his wandering fingers pushed aside her underwear and brushed her clit. Her back arched and she moaned again. Pleased with her response, Logan slid her panties off, eager to feel her again.

She was wet, his fingers were slick instantly and he pressed on, parting her folds. His thumb tortured her clit, and when he felt she could take no more, Logan put one finger inside her. Her hips stilled immediately, he felt good.

"You're so tight," he whispered, "Tell me if I hurt you, okay?"

Veronica nodded, her hips jerking as he eased another finger inside, twisting until she rocked against his hand. He resumed playing with her clit, simultaneously moving his fingers in and out of her. He crooked his middle finger, searching for the one spot that would make her let go, and then she was undone, flowing over his hand with a whimper.

Veronica jerked up, opening her eyes after that intense pleasure to see Logan pressing his face between her legs. Opening her mouth to tell him no, she found her body betrayed her once again. His tongue shoved into her, and she spiraled out of control as she came yet again.

He moved up her body, and when he kissed her, she could taste herself on his breath. Arching her back, she could feel his erection. When she reached for his jeans, Logan stopped her.

"Veronica, that doesn't have to happen tonight."

"I want it to happen tonight."

The bold words tumbled out of her mouth; she didn't want to take them back. Pulling his jeans and boxers off, she ran her fingers over his length, cupping his balls.

"God, Veronica, this isn't going to last long, baby…" Logan trailed off as he reached for his jeans, searching for his wallet as she stroked him.

Rolling the condom on, he reached between her legs and found her ready for him. Slowly, he pushed inside her, watching her face for any twinges of discomfort. She stared back at him in wonder, her eyes wide. When was fully seated inside her, he slowly pulled almost completely out, then moved back in, her hips soon matching his rhythms. He dragged his thumb over her clit as he moved inside her, and the combined sensation sent her over the edge. Two thrusts later he too came, filling the latex barrier between them.

He pulled out of her and she watched him toss the spent condom out the open trunk door, thankful that the beach was deserted at this time of night. Returning to her, Logan pulled her head to his chest, covering her with a blanket.

Veronica curled against him, tangling her legs with his and wondering where he would take her next.

She spotted the black beast from across the quad. It had been two months since Logan had left her standing speechless by this very bench. She shouldn't still want him all the time, this so-called bearable pain should be bearable by now.

Veronica crossed the grass, knowing Logan was in class, not sitting in his car. Standing before the shining dark Range Rover, she felt emotion close in on her again.

She had wanted normal, and he'd given it to her. She'd returned from New York and it had all been fine. But fine didn't define their lives, it didn't erase their shared past—the good and the bad. Normal wasn't a real place, she couldn't go there and visit, and she certainly couldn't live there. Her state of equilibrium involved a murdered dean, a rapist behind bars (although he was bloodied now, Mac said Logan had broken his nose), and a new set of favors to ask for.

It didn't feel normal without him, it felt fake. When she came back to the Grand one night, he'd shown her the new car, saying that it was time to put the XTerra away. She'd always hated the banana boat of a car, right?

Staring at the gleaming blackness and the sparkling chrome, she'd agreed. Put the past in the past, move on to more ordinary things. Now she wanted the bright color back, her snarking at him, him loving her again.

Gathering her courage, she turned to walk away. Stopping suddenly, she whirled around and kicked the tire as hard as she could. It was childish, a temper tantrum at seeing how the world didn't work out like she wanted. It felt good. She did it again, kicking the fender and causing no damage.

Stepping back, she surveyed the car and wondered how cathartic it would be to go and buy a baseball bat.