Scattering from Photon slash Electron Collision

I'm a killer. A murdering bastard, you know that. And there are consequences to breaking the heart of a murdering bastard.

Lilly knew it. Well, she didn't exactly know I was a killer but she was well aware of the 'bastard' part. She never should've teased me like that. The bitch. And she got what she deserved. She may have thought I loved her at the time but I didn't. Fame was, and still is, my only love.

Veronica crumpled the newspaper in her hand, jaw tightened by rage. She had learned that human nature was a bitch most of the time. And she dealt with it. But the paparazzi were the worst creatures she had met yet.

Publishing Aaron's mad diary-rantings was sick.

Wasn't it bad enough that every time Veronica went to the video store, the movie theater, the bookstore, she had to cope with her attacker's face? Lilly's murderer. That letter was his last shot of insanity. And a definite way to ensure his revolting fame lasted.

What scared her wasn't his so-called fame. It was his popularity. People just wouldn't stop loving him. Even if he was a monster. For the fans, it was just another role in another movie.

Veronica stretched herself out of the curled-up position she had taken on the couch and went to the kitchen, reluctantly throwing the newspaper article in the trash as she passed. Her father had forbidden her to interfere in any way with the Lilly Kane trial. She was already too much involved, he said, and she had promised.

Still, as she picked some maraschino cherries out of the jar and pushed them absent-mindedly into her mouth, she felt the burning urge to do something. Anything. And if it involved forgetting the horror of the past days, so much the better!

The sound of American Idiot by Green Day was filling the whole house, covering the noise of the curious crowd massed outside the gate. Logan threw himself on the couch, head beating time as he reached for his half-full glass.

Half-empty, he'd say. Points of view are a funny thing.

He took a sip, raised the pale beverage to his eyes and considered it for a moment. Then, as if it was the most natural thing to do, he sent it crashing to the floor.

Logan burst out laughing. He raised and walked toward the door, trying to check whether the paparazzi had left.

He knew they hadn't. They had already tried to break into the house twice, and, although Logan didn't give a shit, Duncan had forced him to employ two bodyguards full-time.

He sighed and leaned his right hand and forehead on the glass door, wondering how to entertain himself. He had already reached his videogames higher scores and there would soon be no glass left in the house if he kept playing the drink-slash-crash game with the dishes.

He took his cell phone from the coffee table, searched the menu for Duncan's name and made the call. The phone rang and rang until the mechanical voice announced that he had reached the number of Duncan Kane, Mister, who was unable to answer him for the moment. Please try back later. Thank you for your understanding.

Annoyed, Logan hit the off button. Duncan had left town on his doctor's recommendations - at least he was the one passing the exile order that obviously came from Celeste - and nobody had been allowed to join him.

Turning off the blaring stereo, Logan grabbed the X-Terra keys and went to the yard.

She opened the door because the knocking was getting loud enough to cover Backup's barking.

'Hi. Is Backup here by any chance? I wanted to attend the Me & My Great Dog Assembly but they wouldn't let me in. Say I don't have enough fur. Guess they didn't look too close, did they?'

She tried to achieve a smile but didn't succeed. It's so easy to forget how to be happy.

'Hey, Wallace.'

'Veronica, you obviously haven't checked the weather today, or you wouldn't be stuck inside all day with the only boring company of a computer.'

'I'm not….'

Wallace glanced over Veronica's shoulder and spotted the laptop, laying switched on over the nearest arm-rest.

'Okay.' She said with a semi-smirk. 'We're beginning to be mentally connected, Wallace. Soon we'll be able to do this Krypto-telepathic thing.'

Wallace shook his head.

'Superman doesn't have telepathic powers. Where did you spend the whole last century, V?'

She smiled for real and picked up her black zipped jacket.

'I don't know, Nerd Master, but I can tell I'm not gonna spend this day here. You're right. Come on'

She put her cap on with a defiant look.

'Simple etiquette, don't wear that thing inside.' She said, imitating Keith's voice. 'Okay, let's go outside then!'

The LeBaron was rushing through Neptune streets just like the wind rushed through Veronica's hairs, despite the cap she was trying to keep on her head.

'Wallace, I really think you should slow down, now.'

'Hey, easy V! This is my ride. This is the tribute you have to pay for those months of slavery.'

'Oh, come on. When I asked you to dig those files on Madison and you found out she had played this small part in the cinematographic art chef d'oeuvre Dirty and the Naked Gang, you weren't that reluctant to pull out more, were you?'

'Call it a tip.' He said, laughing.

'Well, I certainly didn't need a tip after seeing her face when I called her Naughty Nurse #4 at school next day!'

Wallace was laughing heartily now and she caught his sight in the rear-view mirror. And for a second it was like nothing happened.

A second of closure.

Logan didn't know exactly why he was back on the bridge but he certainly was. He had come back what seemed like a million times since that night.

A zillion times, she would say.

He's been there too many times regardless and it started feeling like home. A place he owned without owing anyone.

He climbed on to the parapet and looked down. Scale the castle walls. Grab your rope. Pull yourself up. Do it again. The cars roaring by were intoxicating.

He was so used to Veronica's voice that he could almost hear it. Her sarcastic tone infiltrating every sentences because she was afraid people might get a glimpse of the real Veronica Mars.

'Hi! I recently sent your father to jail! Oh, no offence meant, that was only because I couldn't convince you of the murder of your former girlfriend.'

And what would he say then?

'Hi! I'm the son of a murdering bastard. Come on, you've heard of him! Look at your DVDs, he's like, Blockbuster's God! Oh, and also? Killed Lilly and almost burnt you alive. Ring a bell?'

Didn't sound good either way.

He was facing the horizon, barely aware of the cars passing behind him. He missed her.

But he was on the bridge. He felt this was the place where he could control something, at least. His realm. He opened his arms and let out a cry of victory.

The wind made a heavy move and his bottle slipped out of his hands, hitting the water with a loud splash.

Sigh.

He was so not that Knight-in-Armor.

Maybe with a white steed? He sniggered.

He turned and went back to the X-Terra.

When he passed them, he waved to the photographer and the notepad-guy who had been following him. He felt sick. And, what was worse, didn't blame it on the vodka.

'I can totally see why you brought me here, Wallace. I knew I finally had to sign the Official Outcasts Guestbook! Just didn't thought you would be the one to drive me to the ceremony. Seriously, why are we here?'

Veronica had rushed into the garden, dragging Wallace after her, to avoid the look she'd caught on the 09ers' faces. She had been there, done that, too many times. Things had changed and she was tired of being Neptune Freak.

'Look at them, Wallace! They look like E.T.'d been putting his finger up his nose in the middle of the party.'

'Yuck. You know that metaphor was gross, don't you?'

She glanced at him.

'Okay' he said, raising his hands. 'Don't shoot, I just thought it would be a good idea for you to see people. I mean, real people. Guys on the team told me there was a party so I…'

'You what? Wallace, those people hate me! I don't wanna see them, I don't need them.'

'Veronica…'

'They look at me like I'm Pariah the First, Queen of Limited Social Capacities, and…'

'Veronica!'

'What?'

'I don't know… Don't you think you've been a bit… isolated lately?'

'I can't believe you're singing this song to me. Not you? Who do you think you are, Mr. Post-Murdering-Attempt-Trauma Counsellor? Congratulations, you got me right! Yes, I'm isolated. Yes, I'm alone in my room all days and nights long because I'm afraid someone will pop up and lock me in my own fridge! Yes, I don't trust anyone anymore because my mom thought wise to rob me and my dad to satisfy her alcoholic issues. Any happy ending to that in your book?'

'Please, Veronica, I didn't mean to criticize you, even less to hurt you. It was a bad idea, but I was just trying to help, okay?'

'You and my dad, I don't have anyone else anymore, Wallace.'

Yes you have. At least you would if you weren't a coward. You should have called him already.

She shook the unpleasant thought away and stared at him. She knew he had the best intentions. And maybe he was even right, but she couldn't deal with that right now.

'I'll go. No, stay. You've got friends there, I just… don't feel like socializing tonight.'

She had a poor smile, trying to look cool. He let her go with a worried look that made her feel more uncomfortable.

She was reaching the door when she spotted him. Them. It was definitely Caitlin's fake blond head burried in Logan's neck.

He caught her eyes. She fled in the night.

So, they say history doesn't repeat itself? Screw that.

Logan woke up next morning with a nasty hangover. It had become quite an habit and he reached for the pills automatically. The morning newspapers laid on the coffee table, headlines screaming : The movie star was the killer, Aaron's last dramatic role…

He threw them in the trash without reading them. Last time he tried, it was all bullshit, including an 'edyfying story by Aaron's daughter, Trina Echolls'. He had downed two bottles of vodka in a row after that one.

Logan felt oddly detached from the whole murder debacle. He hadn't even been surprised when he was told his father had been brought into custody. What hurt was the tapes. Knowing what Lilly had done. Just like it hurt so much more to see her face on those fucking magazines.

As he was throwing the last one out, he noticed the photograph.

Lilly. By the swimming pool. Not one of those morbid shots of her dead body. No, in this one, she was wearing that pink bikini he used to like so much. And at her side, smiling, Veronica.

He let himself slide down near the trash can, burried his head in his hands and cried.

You've reached Logan and here's today's inspirational message: What after all is everlasting fame? Altogether vanity.

Veronica hung up the receiver, heart beating madly in her chest. What was she thinking? What if he had picked up the phone? Spoken?

She hadn't thought before making the call. She had just finished talking to Wallace and felt relieved that nothing had changed between them. They had been talking BFF, shallow stuff. He had pushed the grief and resentment away, the way he always did. With Wallace everything seemed to be simple and obvious all the time.

Maybe it had been this feeling of familiar comfort that caused Veronica to dial Logan's number. She wanted to mend the pieces, for things to be easier for once. Veronica wanted to be able to stop searching her large data bank of human behaviors to choose which one she should adopt for any given occasion.

She had always been the strong one, she could tell when men were cheating on their wives, could find missing people, could solve love affairs and burglaries. But when it came to herself, could she really lead her life as an investigation? Did she really want to be an ongoing mystery?

Veronica was lost at this point.

She felt shaky. Trying to calm herself, she grabbed the kitchen counter and rested against it, breathing heavily. Then she headed to the shower.

He was here at her door. Again. Backup hadn't barked this time but it felt like deja-vu anyway.

No mistake, young lady, here he is. As in the good old days.

Veronica tightened her bathrobe, glaring into the tainted light, indecisive. He remained silent. This was one decision Veronica would have to make for herself.

She took a few steps forward, opened the door.

'I was wondering if you'd show up some day. You could've come to the office, dad's got the investigation files there.'

She was looking down, saying the first stupid things that came to mind, talking very fast to avoid - to avoid this thing. She couldn't name it and didn't want to, because it screamed 'change' and 'undpredictable'.

Logan was glaring at her and she didn't want to look up. Shame wasn't a common feeling for Veronica but today it was consuming her.

'I'm sorry.'

'What?'

She raised her head in surprise.

'Ouch. Butterflies in the stomach. How very cliché of me.' Veronica thought.

'I'm sorry. For everything. At this point of our relationship, I must say I don't really know why I should apologize. Or what you should apologize for. I tried to list our respective faults but then Pulp Fiction was on TV, so…' He shrugged apologetically.

She smiled. That she could answer to.

'Okay, I was prepared to bow and make a nice little speech but if you're gonna lay the blame on you, that's okay with me.'

He leaned and kissed her. Stepped back. She kissed him and he kissed back. They were smiling as their mouths joined. They were always smiling.

'This is right.' He told her between her lips. She tried to answer but they both laughed too hard. That was right, indeed.

They spent the day at Veronica's, watching movies and eating popcorn and drinking Diet Coke. She had chosen to ignore his point that if they were going to eat junk food they could as well drink real soda and he had just laughed. After all, she was a girl.

They were happy that way. Just hoping the day would last. One more moment.

That was what their couple always had been. Both of them. Alone. Veronica and Logan weren't one of those public couples showing up everywhere and slightly forgetting why. Their relationship wasn't one to be put on display. They may not knew why they were there, but they were aware of it. Aware of each moment spent together.

Veronica thought that, after all, it might not just be a momentary thing.

She thought that, maybe, it was her eternal second of closure.