New York
Back when they were dating she used to comfort herself after a lover's spat (Oh, who is she kidding? Lover's spats, plural.) with the thought that they were alike - one and the same in how they related to the world.
It's a thought that resurfaces occasionally even now. However, she's been forced to realize, that certain differences made the two of them... well, irreconcilable.
They shared a general distrust in the surrounding world, but her trust issues ended with her father, while his began with his. The result of that was that her idea of "bad" was that it could be cleansed from the world by shaming the guilty parties until they behaved (if only she could work hard enough) while his was that the world simply was askew. The older she's gotten, the more she's come to understand that he's right. And how sad it is that he has been right all along, even though his life has been so wrong.

She's kept track of him off course. But it would have been nearly impossible to avoid it. His background and the partners he's chosen have made sure of that, thus his face has turned up on the headlines more than once and she never fails to notice. Her eyes are like a homing device for trouble. She's working on it to the best of her lacking abilities, but more often than what's healthy she finds herself seeing him and instantly realizing that it's a complete stranger. He crosses her mind every day, so maybe it's not strange that she's looking for him, even in the most unlikely of circumstances.

That debacle in the cafeteria turned out to be the last time they spoke but it doesn't feel like it.
A lot of her inner conversations are with him, they usually start out subconsciously and transition into her waking up all of a sudden. That's when she wonders about him, where he is and what he's doing, if he's okay. Sometimes she misses him, but mostly not, because it feels as if they just spoke yesterday – and they did, only she carried both sides of the conversation. And when she thinks about him, really thinks, she focuses on the worst parts of their relationship, seems easier that way. But she's busy most of the time. Keeps herself busy. If she doesn't she ends up thinking about Lilly, and all of the "what ifs", the befores and afters.

The college boyfriend didn't stick, but he came back... she wouldn't have guessed it. Not that she minds that he did, her guess prior to Piz' return was that her primary companion would have been a dog or maybe a couple of plants. Had it been up to her not much would have happened, she was always oblivious regarding potential relationships. She's regularly glad that he's still around, grateful even. The trick, she thinks, is the way they compartmentalize their lives. His trust in her is incorruptible. She doesn't need to trust him.

She's grown good at compartmentalizing herself as well but when the news on Carrie's death show up on the screen her filing system is instantly shot. Her inner images consist of him looking pleading at her, and now they're flooding her vision. That look has become one of her most persistent memories, one that always cuts her to the core. When she majored in psychology she associated a lot of what she learned to him, and that look, has come to overshadow all her older memories of him: boasting, manipulating his way through the chaos, verbally assaulting her or physically assaulting her car. Her mind has edited those episodes, they're still there, but he has that look through all of them. It would have bothered her if she didn't know that they somehow are more accurate in that form than how they actually played out at the time.

When the telephone rings she first declines the call because she already knows what's going to happen. She's going, and that's scary.

Neptune
In her dreams he is a warrior, blood drenched with shining eyes and a broad smile on his face.
In her dreams he is an aspect of her, like the fist of god(ess) and she lets her rage run free.
In her dreams she smiles back at him and there's nothing vague or quick about it and she is overrun with exhilaration. When she wakes up she's never sure if what's stuck in her throat is laughter or sobs.

When she arrives in Neptune and finds him waiting for her, she's honestly surprised at how undividedly happy she is to see him – as if they have nothing but good memories between them.

In the car on their way to the karaoke-bar her curiosity finally gets the upper hand.
-So… the navy? How'd that happen?
-Well… I "went to sea". Isn't that what you do when you need to escape your past?
-You're telling me that's why you did it?
-Gee, I don't know! The situation here wasn't exactly ideal at the time. I needed to get out and I did what I normally do; I improvised. I didn't think it'd stick.
-Me neither. It's not exactly "you". I mean, you hate authority figures.
-Oh I don't know… I dated you. Things change.
-But people normally don't.
-I don't know what to tell you; There's something to be said for having strangers yell at you instead of the people who knows you the best.
-Wow, you've lost it Echolls. If calling me an authority figure and telling me I'm as bad as a drill sergeant is the worst you can do…
-I believe I said I preferred the drill sergeant
-And there it is. I was beginning to think you didn't like me anymore.
He chuckles and shoots her a look while still smiling. Her smirk turns into a genuine smile. She can't quite help it. After a few moments he speaks again.
-My grandfather fought in the Korean War. Did you know that?
She shakes her head warily.
-Yeah. Apparently he was a real stand-up guy. My mom loved him but we never really got to know each other. He and Aaron didn't get on.
Of course. She curses herself internally. Judgey Veronica Mars. "Wow. You really suck at this Nancy Drew-stuff." She's great at making correct deductions when all the cards are on the table, but for a person with such a burning interest for the art of detection she sure can be quick to make assumptions. Obviously someone with his parents, who only represented the spectrum between perpetrator and victim, would search his lineage for a possibility to be the hero. At least Logan would. He wants to be good. She wants to hug him. Or slap some sense into him. Tell him that he doesn't have to risk his life in order to prove his worth. But that feels both a tad hypocritical given her history, as well as too intimate a gesture given their history. So she settles on a soft expression and a slight caress of his arm on the gear shift.

"Is there anyone who thinks this guy is innocent?" She can think of one, but she suspected and accused him of evil more than once. Why not now? When did she start to trust him? Somewhere in the absence, however strange that sounds. And she knows. There is no way that he did it. Maybe it's then and there she truly gets the trust thing he always talked about when they were young. It doesn't come from knowing everything, but grows from within and enables you to believe that the person you give it to will do their outmost to take care of you. But even before she understood this she fought for him, more than once. Without Veronica, he would be in prison, or worse. She's been absolutely essential to his life in freedom. Why should this time be any different? California has the death penalty. His life may as well be in her hands. She shutters and starts preparing herself for the inevitably awkward phone conversation she has to have with Piz.

The long way home
He inevitebly stops the car a few houses down from Keith's. Doesn't move, just looks seriously ahead, shifting his gaze every few seconds as if he's thinking really actively about something. She glances at him hesitantly at first, unwilling to leave the car, then dropping the pretence and readjusting her body so that she can look at him comfortably.
-I don't know about you but I really think that long way home could have been longer.
He smiles slowly without looking at her. She starts to feel a little uneasy again and tries to urge herself to exit the vehicle, but something holds her in place, so her attempt just results in her hotching in her seat. She prays silently for him to work his verbal magic, while realizing that she really meant what she said moments earlier. She also understands that the best way she can enable him is by staying put, so she takes a deep breath, lets out a quiet sigh and relaxes in her seat again.
-Hey, Veronica… Let's not lose touch again.
He looks at her, and her heart skips a beat. She wants to say "never" but is fairly certain that her voice won't hold up, so she just shakes her head.
-I don't know if you noticed, but I could sure use a friend like you.
She lets out a short laugh.
-Sure wish you didn't, she says, instantly regretting it. He doesn't look away.
-I didn't mean about Carrie. Just as a friend. Maybe I could be a good one to you too, make up for past mistakes.
Her flight-reflex twitches in her and she wants to tell him to stop, that it's really not necessary for him to make speeches, even though that's exactly what she wanted a minute ago. He sees her trying to speak and speeds up, not giving her a chance to interrupt.
-I was so angry with you for about a year after we broke up. But then… I don't know, it was like it all just… All I could remember was how important you'd been, you are. So I stayed angry with me and proceeded to punish myself instead by any means available. But then I enlisted and they didn't really offer time for introspection. After a while I felt a bit better about myself because I hadn't quit like I thought I would. And when I thought about us… The bad things we did to each other… There's nothing that can't be traced back to shit we had no real control over.
She looks intently at him, not able to break away. His change is so clear. He's calm in spite of the subject matter, controlled. It suddenly occurs to her that he's worked for this, on his own. She's reminded of how he used to be. His desperation and aggression all on the outside, written on his face, that pleading expression. And the boy before that. Who loved and lost Lilly, more than once. Her heart aches.
-I'm sorry I stayed away, she blurts. He looks startled. -I should have been a better friend to you.
-Veronica please, I brought it on myself. I fucked up. Several times.
-That's beside the point. We used to be friends.
-I fucked that up too.
-Shut up, will you? I know you fucked up, but that doesn't mean that I didn't. I think it was a joint effort. Let me get this out. I'm sorry. I missed you but I pushed it away. And when I thought about you, I concentrated on the bad stuff. That wasn't fair, but even in spite of that, I still wanted to call... It never got easier or went away, but it got harder to pick up the phone.
She stills and there's silence between them. He's the one who breaks it.
-I missed you too.
He scoffs.
-But you know me and self-control...
She opens her mouth to protest but he continues.
-When I've been too anxious I'd just text Wallace for an update.
-Funny. He never told me. I wonder why that is.
-I asked him not to. I had to promise that I only needed to know, that I just wanted to make sure you were okay.
Suddenly she's irritated - with Wallace and with him for attempting to control things concerning her, for knowing more than her, for knowing her. She almost snaps at him, but remembers that she was supposed to apologize and tries to focus on the redeeming but in a way even more annoying fact; that he was trying to stay out of her way. Instead she takes a deep breath and thinks about what made her feel like she should apologize to begin with. How's that for control? Take that high school guidance counselor.
His vulnerability exposed. Her nineteen year old self mostly responded to that by bearing her fangs. She was in too much pain herself, she's understood later, too busy protecting herself to care for him, and he needed that back then, no matter what he himself might have argued. She's flooded by empathy and feels like so much of a mushy girl that she unconsciously wrinkles her nose a bit, and steers herself back to him. He's speaking again, quieter this time.
-Anyway, I can't blame you for staying away. I needed to lose hope. It was the only way I'd move on, try something new. Believe me, I know how it looks, pretty pathetic right? Needing to be raised in your twenties. But I can't care about that now. If I hadn't joined I probably wouldn't be alive today. Ironic, don't you think?
She exhales loudly and shakes her head with a crooked smile.
-You really are extraordinary…
-An extraordinary jackass, I know.
-No. Just extraordinary.

The reunion
-Did you ever talk about what happened that night with Carrie?
-Once. She crawled up in a fetal position and didn't speak for the rest of the night.
-I know I'm right about this Logan. Trust me or don't trust me but you're currently short one compelling alternative theory.
-Hey, if you say this is the way then I'm with you. I trust you. Of course I do. Do you think I would have dragged you across the country if I didn't? But I don't know, if something did happen on that boat, Dick doesn't know anything about it.
-You sure about that? I know he's your friend, but his moral compass isn't exactly functional.
-Can you trust me?
There's the rub. The critical point. She needs to trust him. For her own sake as well as his.
-Okay.
He smiles slightly, his gaze going soft.
-But I still have to ask him about it.
-Fine.
-So... What brought you here today?
-I was going to ask you the same thing.
-I was kidnapped. You?

When things fall apart she gets a strange sense of déja vu and doesn't realize that the exhilaration she feels as she watches him plunge himself into the fight is the same as in her dreams until the brawl is peaking with her friends joining in. She has to put an end to it by then though, they're vastly outnumbered and her experience with situations in Neptune getting out of hand speaks for itself. She feels a sting of disappointment as she springs into action, holding the lighter to the sprinkler and watching it pour. That turns out to be what pushes her over the edge when her old enemy taunts her; The feeling of nothing ever being over, that for every problem you solve there are two more, sometime sprung from you first solution, that she's constantly cleaning up messes without ever being done. Something in her snaps and she lets her fist (of godess) wreak havoc, eradicating any sense of control and consequence, finally facing the monsters head on.

After the fight she can't quite look at him. Somehow she feels more exposed now than when a fragment of her awkward college sex life rolled on the screen a few minutes ago. She's already decided to stay another few days and she's glad that Piz is drunk when she tells him. He's a happy drunk but she can tell he's let down by her admission. She's pushing the limits, even with him.

Back when they were dating their differences might not have been inherently irreconcilable just because they were different. It's the way they dealt with them. They were different as teenagers. Wow, Veronica, really? Do you mean growing up has actually meant changing for the better? She thinks about how it feels to do this again, and it's different. In spite of her resurfacing anger, she's more collected. As if she has a backup plan. She finds it strange that it feels like home without making her miserable. It used to feel like an obsession, now it feels like a tool, a weapon that she can wield with ease, in spite of everything that's on the line. That makes her terrified. She understands that a big part of her had anticipated and even wanted it to feel like shit, all of it. Instead it makes her life in New York seem like a dream she's just emerging from. Thinking about it opens up a black hole within, and she's grateful that she has the case to keep her busy. She digs herself deeper and ignores the telephone calls from her dream job and her dreamy boyfriend that only seem to exist in a dream somewhere across the country. Things have changed, or maybe not at all.

I know what happened
"I don't care if Logan ain't the guy!" And there it is. Of course he doesn't care. The feeling of history helplessly repeating itself makes her absolutely livid. Logan may have been right about many things but not everything. The world might be askew but if you rid it of enough assholes it might just lock back into the right orbit again. And Sheriff Lamb is definitely on her top five list. Her rage makes her blood run cold and she exchanges looks with Logan when they leave the station. And there's that feeling of kinship again – He always believed in her, and no matter how futile he might have thought her cause, he was right there in the fight with her. This is more important than anything, she thinks. So she calls Piz – more determined this time, but he's the one who ends it.

It's not until they're standing in the waiting room of the hospital that she's overcome by the weight of it all. Her dad in a hospital bed, Piz and Truman-Mann giving up on her, her dad's disappointment at that, Neptune in the gutter and at the eye of the storm: Logan and his situation - The thing that brought her back. She feels unreasonably angry with him and at the same time completely certain that she has to be here, and guilt over that feeling on top of that. Piz had been right on point when he wished that she'd felt enough of the same loyalty to him. But then again; he almost never got charged with murder. She's at the end of her rope.
-Why won't you go away, Logan?
He closes the gap between them within a second, placing himself an inch away from her, his eyes intensely searching her face for signs of flight or fight or anything. He doesn't interpret her words literally but as usual gets right to the core of things.
-If I thought either of us could help the other with that I would have called you years ago.
She gapes at him, dumbstruck by his response. He's quiet for a while, opening his mouth a couple of times as if to continue, but shutting it again like he's trying to keep the words in. She's forgotten the surrounding room and situation and is listening with her entire being. He picks up on that and continues.
-This is probably the worst time for this and I'm sorry, but here goes; I'm not okay. I can't carry out normal relationships. I'm still angry, almost all the time. Just not with you. I know it's probably good to talk about these things, but I don't think apologies are necessary between the two of us. Losing all I did, hating you, loving you... it was how I healed.
He pauses looking relieved and startled at once, probably expecting her to tell him to stop, but she's too tired to put up a fight or cover up her expression which she suspects mirrors his rather accurately. He takes a breath and dives back in.
-So yeah, I've got more than a couple of ugly scars, but at least they're not bleeding any more. And that's why it doesn't go away for me. When I look in the mirror I see them all. But it's okay. I'm fine with it now. It's a part of me. I've learned to live with having you around.
He chuckles slightly.
-I started thinking of you as one of those angels on your shoulder-deals.
In spite of herself she smiles and raises an eyebrow.
-Me? An angel?
-Well, maybe the angel I deserve.
His smile is warm and a bit sad. He takes her hand and kisses her palm, then lets it drop to his neck and places his chin on top of her head in a familiar stance. She feels his pulse vibrating through his skin and the warmth from his chest, just half an inch away, and almost lets out a gasp as she remembers what it feels like to really want someone. She jerks lightly and realizes her legs want to give way. One of his arms drops to her waist to steady her. She's caught off guard, and the thought briefly crosses her mind that it's almost only around him that it happens. Back when they were teenagers they were friends and they were fine, then they were enemies and they weren't fine and then, for some reason that escapes her now, she kissed him and the backdrop changed completely.
In her mind she's already falling. She's falling on him. Her mouth has already found his. She's already pulling his shirt up and her hands are already touching his skin. She's already pressing herself against him and moaning at the feel of him. In her mind she's already there.

Her body jerks from the feeling of falling and she pushes herself away from him and starts pacing the waiting room she forgot existed. He watches her for about a minute then sits down in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. She's unable to shield herself from the cold of the situation in stark contrast to it just seconds earlier when she sees him, his long body bent in the small chair. She shivers. She buckles and sits down next to him, figuring the awkwardness of the position will keep her in check. After a few minutes she leans her head on his shoulder and he puts an arm around her.

Back when they were dating she made a lot of mistakes. So did he. But they were always so obvious. No need to rehash them, really. It's clear to her now that he's worked for his forgiveness, and in order to do that, the first step had to be recognizing them. He was an expert at this, he had to be. Growing up in close proximity to that monstrosity of a father he must have developed a keen sense of strategics. The self-loathing that grew from that very same situation was what had prevented him from applying this expertise to his own life for so long.
It feels as if something is trying to claw its way up her throat. She hasn't cried in years, other than in her sleep. But now the tears fall quietly and she tries to keep her convulsions to a minimum. Logan's arm tightens around her and she's at least grateful that he doesn't know exactly why she's crying. Being right all the time makes it really hard to acknowledge your own mistakes and she hasn't needed to work with herself for a long time. And even then, the last time, it was all make-up - all plaster and wallpaper, and now she - this place – this thing – he - has taken a sledgehammer to it.
She was never going to be free from this. Lilly's death imprinted on her, on the both of them, welded them together in a new form, a new life. That's why he hasn't let go, why she hasn't let go. They can't. That's why she's so happy to see him in spite of everything. He's home.
A lot of her mistakes are irrevocable. She's been trying to pay for them for nine years, and now she sees it's been in vain. She's back where she started from and finally has to give up her imaginary control and leave her absolution in the hands of the people who suffered from the aftermath of her carelessness. It's not a good feeling, but maybe they owe her a bit too. And she's forgiven them a long time ago.

Later, she wakes up in her father's guest bedroom and panics instantly as she remembers... everything. The relief she feels when she hears what can only be Logan move outside the room is also what springs her into action. He has to stay. She needs to touch him. Let him know it's okay without using her awkward words. The words she does speak, seems to be aimed at herself as well as him. She has to make them count.
-Don't go.
-Okay.
Once they've given in, it's clear to her that much of his growing up has consisted of directing that raw power of his inwards, using muscles he had no experience with to grow some impulse control. But now it's gone and she's missed this. So much. She finds herself thinking he's beautiful just before it all crashes into her. She never thought of him in those terms – in terms, really – but has just enough time to think that it's a good thing that she's finally ready to use them.

Then all hell breaks loose, as she sort of knew it would. She has that reckless pull that puts her right in the middle of it – not that it's a surprise. But it also pulls her through. Her aggression is a tool. That, and a golf club. The latter makes several of the deputies arriving on scene snicker and stare in awe. When Logan arrives at the sheriff's department, all wild-eyed, she's practically climbing the walls. She's left a statement but the Sheriff keeps stalling, however, one look at Veronicas ride is enough to make him sign the papers and let her go. She walks straight into Logan's arms and finally allows herself to take it all in. She relaxes and stays that way, while he sidles them both closer to the wall. After several minutes she looks up into his eyes anxiously searching hers to determine her state of mind. Right then and there she is consumed by her own certainty – this is where she belongs, where she has to be. She's completely unafraid. Right then and there, in spite of everything, she's consumed by his embrace and how relieved she is that he's safe. "I love you" she thinks, and the words fill her up. She smiles and tells him to take her home.