A/N: You're probably befuzzled and confused – why did I make this a third separate story? Unfortunately it didn't work with the cross-over theme of "Snapshots," and was too detailed for "Epic," so I had to give it its own space. If this is your first time reading any of my stuff, I suggest you read the other two parts first otherwise you'll be really lost, especially since this is a conclusion piece. And yes, you're tuning in mid scene.
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"You know how much I loved my dad! And it kills me - fucking kills me - that I thank God every day that you weren't in the car with me because it would've been you who died. And how the hell do I live in a world without Logan Echolls? How do I live in a world without Keith Mars? I just do. So fuck you."
Logan laughed, tears bitter in his throat. "I lived, huh? I did fucking die on that highway with you. Every night I close my eyes so I get to see you in my dreams and then I wake up knowing this will be one more day where you're not there beside me. You promised me we were epic. How dare you give me that hope then rip it away."
"I knew it was a mistake coming here. I don't even know why I stopped in Neptune."
"Sure, just run away when shit gets real. Wouldn't want to ruin your perfect record."
The crack of flesh sent a shockwave through Logan's body, jolting him from the destructive anger festering inside. Veronica was home, alive, and he was fucking yelling at her? Spitting at her because he felt like she'd abandoned him, when it was her who'd lost everything, everyone?
He could see the scars the last nine years had left on her soul by the bleakness of her eyes. He'd never seen a defeated Veronica Mars, he didn't even know she understood the concept of giving in, giving up, allowing someone else to finish the job. But she had. At the cost of the one person who'd always meant more to her than anything, even Lily.
"Oh God, Ronnie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I'm sorry for all those times I hurt you intentionally, unintentionally, for thinking you were actually dead and not lost. God, I'm fucking sorry for everything that happened to you in the last nine years, nine months, twenty-two days, six hours, and three minutes.
She looked at her stinging hand to the vivid imprint flushing his cheek and listened to the words he didn't say. "What are we doing? We haven't seen one another for almost a decade and this is how we act." He was shocked as her eyes welled; his Ronnie had never been easy with her tears, acting as if each droplet betrayed her when they fell, a true daughter of war who used words like weapons and her body as a spear forging forth in pursuit of truth. This stranger merely stood there as her eyes changed from calm blue skies to turbulent stormy seas that overwhelmed the delicate blond lashes and spilled down her cheeks.
Each salt-laden drip was a lash against his tender heart, and groaning deep in his throat, he gathered her to his body, spinning, spinning, spinning, until they ended up on the couch, her smaller form folded around him like the most comfortable blanket, laughter bright in the air between them.
He couldn't even count the many times they'd end up cuddling like this; he thought it started when they were twelve and she'd somehow always known when he needed comfort. It was one of the many things he'd missed the most when he hated her, then again when he thought she was dead.
The room was dark when he was startled awake by the opening of the door and Tracy's cheery "Honey I'm home!"
Veronica moaned a little then shifted until she was huddled even closer to Logan. He couldn't bear to wake her, not when he knew she needed the sleep as evidenced by the dark circles he'd seen beneath her pretty eyes earlier, so he continued to hold her, uncaring of his fiancée flipping on the living room light and seeing them together.
"Logan? What's going on?"
"Shhh, don't wake her. She's had a rough day."
"Who is she?"
Logan shrugged without bothering to look up; content to stare into Veronica's sleeping face. He would never get tired of seeing her eyes move beneath fragile eyelids, or how her lips moved soundlessly as she spoke in her dreams. He'd once stayed up all night watching her and making up an entire conversation according to what she mouthed. Had he ever told her about that?
"…Logan? Logan? Are you even listening?"
Annoyed, he snapped his eyes to Tracy's face. "No, but you have my attention now. What?"
The pretty brunette looked taken aback by his tone and look on his face. In the six years she'd known Logan, he'd never raised his voice to her much less speak so dismissively.
"You don't think your fiancée deserves an explanation about why she finds you cuddling a mysterious woman on the couch?
"Do you trust me?"
"I…what…how does trust play into this?"
"Either you trust me or not."
"Logan, you're horrible. Don't play the trust game with her." The sleep-husky voice shattered the tense air between the two and both combatants looked down at Veronica; Logan with appreciation, Tracy with jealousy and anger at the blond woman's comfortable position.
Veronica on her part stretched like a cat and then gently untangled herself from Logan's embrace. She ignored his instinctive protest and side-stepped his hands so they fell back into his lap where they belonged, where she no longer did.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept so well, but then she'd always slept better with Logan by her side (or under or in her or behind her – oh shut the fuck up!). Grief tried to catch her again, taunting her with the blank days stretching before her without him, but she ignored it as easily as she had for the last nine years. Logan had ceased being hers a very long time ago, even before her ignoble end, and she'd gotten better at letting go (even if it came at the expense of cutting her heart into little pieces and scattering them on the hot desert wind).
Who cared if she wanted to gut-punch the tall bitch so she'd fold over and be closer to Veronica's more diminutive height? So what if she wanted to claw Tracy's perfect features until they were a ragged mess? Veronica thought she was allowed some bitterness since Tracy (Hannah, Kendall, Madison, Parker) was getting the boy, but none of these thoughts flashed across her face or transmitted through the muscles of her body (she had learned some discretion after all).
They were all adults here and she wouldn't be in Neptune long before departing from their lives one and for all, so she better do her best to minimize the damage. She mentally winced a little at the melodramatic tenor of her thoughts, but couldn't deny the truth she'd never be able to bear Logan happy with someone else. She wasn't that evolved.
"Hi, I'm Barbara Fortenberry and I'm an old friend of Logan's." Veronica put out her hand and summoned the brightest smile she had. It was the one she wore to soothe frightened third-graders on their first day of school; it was the one that made Lily Kane fall in love with the small blonde when they first met because it was so innocent and cheerful; it was the same one that Duncan used to dream about when they dated; and it was the one Logan/Wallace/Weevil/Mac distrusted the most because it was normally followed by the infamous Veronica Mars head tilt which meant she was going to ask for a favor.
Tracy only knew this woman was dangerous and a threat to her comfortable life with Logan, but took the hand and the smile because she could do nothing less. "I'm Tracy Nevins and I'm the one marrying Logan."
Veronica merely nodded. "I know, he told me."
"Wow, I see my new fan club forming. Remember, meetings are on Wednesdays." Logan watched his ex-girlfriend closely, wondering if jealousy scored her veins like it once did. He'd always known she'd cared, even when she wouldn't say it, by her reactions to whatever girl was on his arm. Her easy smile and natural tone were dissatisfying to him, though he refused to examine why.
"How is Parker these days?" Veronica shifted her attention back to the couch.
"I haven't heard from her since she moved to Denver after graduation. You should ask Mac, I think they still keep in touch."
"Have you told anyone about my return?" Logan stood and grasped both of Veronica's hands, effectively stopping their wringing motion. Every new gesture was a revelation of this stranger wearing his beloved's face; when did Veronica Mars get nervous?
"No, I figured we'd let them know together when Wallace gets back to town next week." He brought her knuckles to his face and brushed his whiskered chin across them in a soothing manner. "I promised you I wouldn't tell anyone, and I won't. You do trust me, right?"
The question was laden with the weight of their history, her issues, and his fears, but only Veronica heard the echo. "I do." When she finally looked back through the years and saw she'd confused him with the wrong person time and time again. He'd kept things from her, sure, but he never actively lied or betrayed her when they were together. Or hell, even when they were in their off periods.
Logan heard the unequivocal certainty in her voice and nearly shouted with astounded joy. The only thing that could make him happier would be to hear her say "I love you." Not that he wanted or expected it, he assured himself hastily. Veronica and he weren't a couple any more, nor were they getting back together, but it would be nice to hear it, just once before she left; if only to check the "Have Veronica Mars admit she loves me using those three little words" off his bucket list.
Tracy felt like an interloper between the two, her presence clearly forgotten though she stood a few feet away from them. It was a special talent of theirs held over from their days of being two-fourths of the Fab Four, when no one mattered outside their clique because no one else would ever be as interesting.
The square had broken with Lily's death and Duncan's and Logan's desertion, but when Veronica and Logan started dating after everything happened, they'd formed their own connection within the dust of their former lives. That connection wasn't severed with their numerous breakups or even Veronica's "death," but only Neptune's other lost children understood these two half as well and they weren't here to explain, so Tracy was left with ashes in her mouth and panic in her mind at how distant Logan was acting.
The reminder of his troth to her future gleamed in subtle taunt to his true intentions, independent of this stranger who was upsetting their carefully orchestrated lives, and she drew strength from the band.
"Did you forget about our dinner plans with my sister tonight, Logan?"
"Oh shit, Tracey, I did." Logan turned from his visibly upset fiancée to his houseguest. "Ro-Barbie, you think you're up for dinner?"
Veronica's mouth twitched in faint grin as she could see both Tracy's burgeoning anger and Logan's cluelessness. "Uh, I think I'll just hang out here. You have fun tonight."
"Are you sure? I don't mind and I doubt Tracy does either." Actually, Tracy looked like she really minded, not that Veronica blamed her.
"Logan, go enjoy dinner with your fiancée. I'll be okay by myself in the few hours you're gone."
"You don't think Patrice would mind if we added another guest for dinner, do you?" Tracy opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by Veronica.
"Why am I not surprised you're not listening to me?" She sighed and rolled her eyes at him. "Logan, I'll be fine alone. I'll stay here and peruse your one thousand channels."
"Actually, Barbie, if I remember correctly it was you who had the hearing problem not me. I listened just fine, you were the deaf one." He loomed over Veronica with a familiar smirk twisting his lips.
"Sure, you listened then did exactly what you wanted anyway."
"Pot calling kettle, much? I can list at least five times off the top of my head where you smiled sweetly, nodded your head, and walked right out the door to do what you thought was necessary regardless of anyone else's opinion."
Veronica bit her lip as she pondered his statement. If she wanted some closure, she should start right now; it had taken a few years of intense introspection to finally see where Logan was coming from when he used to yell at her for being stubborn and pigheaded for putting herself in needless danger.
So: "Fine, you're right."
"What?" Logan grabbed his chest. "Am I hearing this correctly? You, tiny annoying blond one, are admitting I, Logan William Echolls, am right and you are wrong?"
"I'm not saying I'm wrong, just that you're right."
"Uh, last time I checked, in order for someone to be right another person has to be wrong. Ergo, I'm right and you're wrong!" He started doing a little hip-swiveling dance and threw his hands over his head like he'd just scored a touchdown.
"Is that really necessary?"
"This day should go down in the history books! In fact, I think I'll go call Guinness Book of World Records and submit this."
"Don't you think you're being a tad ridiculous?"
"Ridiculous? No. Right? Yes."
"No!" Tracy finally yelled, agitated beyond belief as she realized the other two had completely forgotten her presence again.
"No….?" Logan drawled out, eyes blinking in surprise at his fiancée's outburst.
"No, I don't think Patrice would mind another for dinner."
"Oh, right dinner." He took a step forward into Veronica's personal space, arms crossed over his chest. "You're going and nothing you say will change my mind."
"Me Tarzan, you Jane, huh?" She sighed dramatically than giggled briefly. "Fine, I'll go, but I'll need to change because while this is okay for the beach, it's not suitable for the lavish place I'm sure you're going to take us."
"We're going to that little Mediterranean place near Lockwood."
Veronica grimaced because she knew exactly where they were going and she definitely wasn't dressed appropriately in her loose peasant skirt and tank top. "I definitely need to shower and change." She looked up at Logan. "Will there be enough time for that?"
"We'll make time as I need to change myself. Do you really think they won't hold up reservations for Logan Echolls?"
"Right. I forgot how shallow California was." She took a step around Logan when he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder fireman style. "Logan, put me down!"
"You're a gimp and this is faster."
He looked to Tracy. "We'll meet you at the restaurant around eight, okay?"
Tracy watched in disbelief as her fiancé didn't wait for a response, just carried the other woman out of the room and up the stairs without so much as a by-your-leave. In fact, he'd barely taken his eyes off Barbie (what the hell kind of name was that for a grown woman anyway?) the entire time. Who was she to him? Their banter was intimate and knowing, as if there were history between them.
Digging out her cell, she quickly pressed the appropriate numbers. "Patrice, it's me. We have a problem."
Logan deposited his bundle of blond gently on the guest bed and stared down at her. He wanted to touch her all over and assure himself she was really here; his need wasn't sexual, but emotional, because they'd always communicated better through tactile sensations then words. No, when their brains and mouths got into it, that's when bombs burst and bodies hit the floor.
"Ronnie, tell me the truth." He put his index finger across her lips, ignoring the tingles racing up his arms at the familiar feel, and asked what worried him most. "…as much as you can without breaking your contract or whatever with the government. And I'm not stupid; it would have to be the government to hide you so successfully for nine years, so don't bothering denying it. Are you okay?"
Veronica didn't pretend to misunderstand his question or denigrate the sentiment behind it. Logan had always, always, put her safety before anything, even himself, and she couldn't dredge up the old I am woman, hear me roar feminist crap she used as an excuse to shield herself with back in their old days. She gently removed his finger before she did something stupid like suck it into her mouth.
"I will never be truly safe because jail cells really can't stop long arms. The only way I can sleep easily at night is if he's finally dead."
Anyone else might've been shocked by the succinct and brutally clear summation, but this was Logan, and this was Veronica, and they both knew death was the only equalizer of men. He didn't bother asking her who he was because what did it matter? and he knew she wouldn't tell him.
"Why are you here then? This is where it all started." Horrifying pictures of Veronica splayed on a pool deck with blood staining her blond hair as she lolled lifelessly with staring eyes, flashed across his mind.
Sadness warred with determination on her pert face. "I've done all I can, Logan. I couldn't stay buried forever, not when…" her voice trailed off as did her gaze. She couldn't bear to tell him it was the announcement of his engagement that had spurred her resurrection. Veronica truly didn't come back expecting to stop the wedding, merely to say goodbye to her truest and dearest friend, even she hadn't always treated him as such. There were so many dangling threads of her old life she had to snip before she could really live again.
"Not when…?" Logan's heart raced as he wondered if she'd come back for him. It wouldn't change anything of course because he had finally moved passed her and their relationship, but a small part of him felt satisfaction that she was chasing after him for once. He was immediately ashamed of the petty thought, but couldn't deny the truth of it.
"Not when I looked into the mirror one day and had no idea who I was." Her gaze was so blue he felt dizzy. "At nineteen I was badass Veronica Mars, girl detective, and possible FBI agent, or at the very least, a glorified gopher. At twenty-eight I'm living under an assumed name, in a land-locked state, as a third grade teacher. Logan, I don't like children. You know I don't like them."
Veronica looked at her hands. "I don't dream any more, or at least I don't think I do. I used to have such vivid dreams and nightmares, remember? Now, I drift day to day as a ghost. I once cut myself just to see if I'd bleed." She held up a tiny wrist and showed him the faint vertical scar. "I wasn't trying to commit suicide or anything, just wanted to know what I was made of because I forgot."
Logan didn't even realize he was crying until she reached out and wiped his wet cheeks. She carried the wetness to her mouth and licked it from her fingers. The act was so unabashedly carnal he couldn't breathe; no correction, he couldn't breathe without her tongue in his mouth and her lips pressed against his.
She fit against his body as she always had, arms cradling his head as her legs wrapped around his waist. Vaguely aware they shouldn't be doing this in the bedroom he carried her into the in-suite bathroom and locked the door, slamming her against the wall. There were no words, but none were needed, even when he fumbled to unzip his pants as she shoved her panties aside; both groaned into the other's mouths when he penetrated her warmth, the slickness of her flesh easing his way.
Logan couldn't stop kissing her lips, her cheeks, and that spot on her neck that always drove her wild. She was so tight, as tight as the first time they'd ever done this, and he reveled at the husky pants in his ear, gripping her so firmly he knew he'd leave marks of his possession on her. He suddenly wanted to bite and claw at her, maybe even pee around her a little, so no one would ever mistake her as anything but his.
He chuckled darkly when she protested him slipping out, but he slowly let her slide down the wall to her feet. Confusion and frustrated passion gleamed in her ever-changing eyes, and he winked at her before turning her to lean against the vanity so most of her weight rested on the edge instead of her legs.
Logan quickly divested himself any encumbrances so it wouldn't hobble him during their loving, and then bent her forward as he slid the skirt off before helping her step out of the pooling material. The pale pink lace barrier that protected her from his devouring gaze enraged him and he tore it from her in one swift move.
"Spread yourself wider Ronnie."
Her eyes met his in the mirror as she did as he bid and she revealed her body's innermost secrets to him. Relishing the authority she gave him, he dropped to his knees and delicately reintroduced himself to her taste, loving the feel of hot silkiness against his taste buds. Each swipe of his tongue or burrow of inquisitive fingers tightened her into an intricate knot until a series of short knowing thrusts sent her careening over the edge, the tension unraveling until she was half supported against him because her legs gave out.
Slapping her ass, then doing it again because he liked how she squeaked, Logan rearranged her body against the vanity again and bucked into her. The sensual play had loosened her enough he could fit more comfortably inside, and he took full advantage of their height disparity to use different angles and depths to achieve his goal of rendering Ronnie mindless and wanton.
When finally satisfied he couldn't wring any more pleasure from her body, Logan let himself go, nuzzling his face into the back of her neck, whispering "I love you," as he finally came home.