Title: Free at Last
Author: Peregrine
Characters: Logan, Duncan, Veronica, Aaron, Lester family.
Spoilers: Through Episode 22.
Rating: R for language and violence.
Summary: This is a sequel to The Adventures of Nancy and Joe. Logan takes a trip of discovery that changes his life forever.
Disclaimer: Veronica Mars and all its characters belong to Rob Thomas and UPN.

Note: Chapter titles and lyric fragments are taken from David Sylvian's brilliant compilation, Everything and Nothing. The mood of this album heavily influenced my writing of this story.

Chapter One: Wanderlust

Travel light, don't think twice
We're leaving the shadows behind.

Logan

I follow Monique through the phalanx of paparazzi and search for her fancy ride. "What the hell?" My mutter is overheard by someone from the Times, who shoves his microphone in my face and asks if he can quote me. "Get the fuck away from me."

"Is that your last word?"

Monique turns on him and glares at his press tag (Marvin Hernandez). "Shove off, vato."

The reporter's face darkens and we are gone before he can retaliate. "Classy."

"You should talk." She's got a point.

"I limit my attacks to the locals."

"Bet you're #1 with a bullet." Monique looks around with a frown. "Where's your car?"

"Two blocks south." I start to move in that direction and she easily matches my stride without breaking a sweat. "So you expect me to chauffer you around?"

She tosses back her hair and the quick grace of her hands reminds me of Mom. "I'm sorry, but my cars are in Sausalito."

My eyebrows rise at her offhand tone. "Cars?"

Monique stumbles on a crack in the sidewalk like a nervous colt. "Yes, I'm rather good with my hands and I—what?"

A snerk blows through my lips and is deflected by her sudden grin. "DK can attest to that."

She rolls her eyes and groans when we come up to the XTerra. "Merde. Aaron picked this out, yes?"

I laugh. "Gee, how'd you guess?"

Monique looks between my somber suit and the car. "Must've gotten one hell of a bargain. He always was a cheap bastard."

"No kidding," I reply with a tight smile. "The buck always stopped with Dad." Too bad he didn't apply that same philosophy to the belt.

Aaron

Aaron hates Rock Mountain. He hates that he has to lower himself to the level of these primates that surround him. He hates that his orange jumpsuit clashes with his complexion and turns his expensively capped teeth into lupine yellow.

He despises the fact that his new "wife" is a gap-toothed hobo from City Heights who's never heard of Break Point or Beyond the Breaking Point. He dislikes everything about his new life, but he's determined to tough it out and show these guys what he's made of.

The only visitors are his lawyer and Trina and when he asks about Logan, he is met with stony silence. He only finds out the truth when someone leaves a newspaper in the john and he sees his son and Lynn's sister plastered on the front page. With a sinister smile, Aaron remembers the day he had his way with little Monique, arm jutting across her windpipe as he fucked her. She is effectively silenced by his threats to expose her, and he vows that if he catches up with her again, he'll silence her for good.

Duncan

I watch them walk away and wonder if Logan will ever come home. When I hoofed it out of here, it wasn't so bad. I got to act like a bum and there were no responsibilities. No one nagging me to take my meds or keep my room clean, and no worrying about my GPA or my crappy SAT scores. All in all, Cuba was a very good choice for someone like me. But it will be different for Logan. Monique may be a bit of a nutter, but I get the feeling she'll keep after him.

For me, there was nothing to come back to. Oh, yeah, there's the whole 'rental thing, but that's not what I mean. And I don't even mean my fair-weather friends, because they are pure Latex (utterly disposable). No, what I really mean is that there was no chance with Veronica. Ever.

I knew it when she kissed Troy. And I sensed it when I saw her dancing with Deputy Dawg. And I guess it started to hit home on that day when I was running the dance committee and saw her with my best friend. But the part of my brain that refused to believe she was my sister took over and pushed my feelings back to center stage. And nothing that's happened since has pushed those emotions back to the sidelines.

The hurt came roaring out when she confronted me and tore me in two when I saw them link hands at Logan's party. I took it out on the Benz that night and was sorely tempted to take Logan apart less than 12 hours ago. I guess you can say that my cold and rather dead sister slowed me down and made me see reason. I loved Lilly more than most people, but she was dead and I wasn't real keen on being harassed by her shade. Yeah, there was a reason she called me Donut, and much as I hate the nickname, there was a ring of truth mixed in with the sisterly snark. So even as I reviled myself for backing down, I saw that Lilly was mostly right. Smacking down a willing victim whose body bore testimony to his status as a human punching bag was not on my agenda. Lilly's threat about Veronica also stayed with me. Veronica and Logan were my last links to my sister, and if they were removed from the picture, then my already pitiful life would be reduced to nothing.

Veronica and her father move past me and she casts a sideways glance that kindles me with its flash of warmth. Her beautiful blue eyes are quickly shuttered as she covers her face with her arm and jumps into her Dad's car. The mob of reporters rushes after them and a small smile crosses my face as I stand on the periphery, once again forgotten by the masses.

Veronica

Logan is really gone this time. His car zips past ours on its way out of town and he toots his horn and raises a hand that quickly disappears as the XTerra dips down a hill. My father spares me a glance as he turns down our street and asks, "What did the judge want?"

Dad would spot a lie in a second, but there is no simple answer to his question. "I'm not sure. She never showed up."

He makes a face and I can see that he doesn't believe me. "That doesn't make sense."

I shrug. "Maybe she got her signals crossed."

"Maybe. Was Logan there too?" he asks quietly.

"Yes. I wished him good luck."

"He'll need it." That is probably the understatement of the century. "I hope his time away helps him."

"Me too." Dad doesn't know Logan too well. He was always Lilly's boyfriend and hovered in the background of my existence. But now that our romantic interlude has been exposed, Dad has been looking at Logan in a different light, and I'm not sure he likes what he sees.

He parks the car and forces a cheerful tone, "Duncan still coming over tonight for burgers and dogs?"

"I hope so." My Dad wants me to be happy, and he seems to think that Duncan is part of that process. I return his smile and know I did the right thing by keeping my rape to myself. He unlocks the door and I continue to think about the rape that wasn't—only in my mind, it was and still is. Time might heal some wounds, but I don't think it will completely fix what is wrong with me. And while I might try to skate past the pain, it keeps slipping me up when I least expect it.

Logan

DK is right. Monique is a piece of work. After we swing by her ex's bachelor pad to pick up her gear, she starts to spill everything she knows about the Lester clan. Grandpa Dave is a staunch Republican who adores the Red Sox and mainlines Laphroaig like it's lemonade. He surrounds himself with women and dogs (not necessarily in that order), bets on the ponies, and plays a round of golf at Farm Neck on alternating Saturdays.

His third wife Sally is a Green Party advocate who drives a tiny Honda Insight and spends much of her time in P-town with her gay friends. When she's on the Island, she holds court at The Black Dog and drives around with her gal pals to estate sales, which are the social events of the year.

She finishes with her own French relatives and speaks of them with a rare show of warmth. Simone is the grande dame of le Cote d'Azur society and is known high and low for her hospitality. Ex-husband Gerard is an independent film producer who stuck around long enough to father Danielle, who lives in Monique's Marin County digs and attends grad school at Berkley.

It's only after we hit LA that I realize she's told me nothing about herself. "What about you? What have you done with your life?"

Monique lights up a Gitane and drops her hand out the window. With a smile, she leans her head back against the seat and puts her bare feet on the dashboard. "Before or after the Pulitzer Prize?"

She tosses that out with a casual arrogance that makes me twitch with annoyance. "Actually," I say nastily, "I'd like to hear about the guy who slit your throat."

Her free hand strokes the scar absently as she takes a drag. "That was a long time ago." Monique exhales and smiles over at me, knowing that I am baiting her and refusing to lower herself to my level.

"And he's kind of dead, right?" I persist, if only to get a rise out of her and prove that a heart beats beneath that cold exterior.

She mutters something unsavory in French and I smile triumphantly. "Yes. Very dead."

I eye the satchel at her feet with a slightly nervous smile. "You packing heat?"

Monique sighs like it's the dumbest question in the world. "Yes, are you?"

Shit. "What if I am?"

Her lips twitch slightly. "Hope you have a license."

If only. On one of my many trips to TJ, I found a street vendor with untraceable, silver Glocks and a dazzling array of ammunition. "At my age?"

"Oh, right." Monique isn't the slightest bit bothered by my admission that I'm carrying, and her next statement floors me. "Well, if I lived in that house with that horrible man, I'd also be armed to the teeth."

My mouth opens and shuts and I end up gnawing on my lower lip for a long beat. "How did you know?" She and I barely know each other and my abuse is hardly public knowledge.

"Know?" she echoes. "It was all over the news."

I quickly realize that she's referring to Lilly's murder, not the swath of scar tissue that mottles my back. "Right. How could I forget?"

Her mossy green eyes fasten on me like agates and weigh me down with a weird mixture of sympathy and blinding pain. With a sigh, she turns back to the window and a strained silence fills the space between us.

Duncan

My parents don't know what to do with me. Mom is in perpetual hand-wringing mode and Dad's brow is forever furrowed. I think they're wondering if aliens abducted their sweet Duncan and left a stranger in his place. Or maybe I'm one of those changelings that the faerie people left behind. Because honestly? I'm right there with them. I feel like I've lost my way and don't recognize myself in the mirror.

Bloodshot eyes and a haze of five o'clock shadow greet me when I get back from the courthouse and I decide that hirsute is the new me. The fact that Mom hates it convinces me that this look is a keeper. If I keep it untrimmed, I might be able to cultivate crops or host a family of birds. With a smile, I drop into a chair and turn on my flat panel. Gilligan and Ginger are frolicking in TV Land and Mary Ann and the Skipper can't be far behind. My thumb conjures up channel after channel of drivel and five minutes is all I can take before I shut down the set and throw the remote in a drawer.

I spot a pile of summer reading and decide to float in the pool and dive into Silas Marner. It takes a few minutes to locate my swim gear and I grab some sunscreen on my way downstairs. My parents are thankfully absent and I float out to the middle of the pool with Squire Cass and William Dane to keep me company. Whee, what fun. A half hour turns into an hour and I realize that I'm stuck on the same page. It's an easy toss to the chaise lounge where Lilly was sitting when she died and I start to feel like she's watching me. When I squint against the sun, her face flares like a corona and burns itself into my retinas. 'Don't forget me, Donut' is her whispered mantra and I gasp when her features implode and dissolve into thin air.

"I won't," I whisper, shivering under the July sun and clutching my arms to my sides. The water laps at my float and slowly propels me into the deep end. When I reach the ladder, I climb out and decide that Silas Marner and chlorine are a bad combination. I walk back to the house and grab a sandwich from the plate in the fridge. Mindless chewing reduces it to mush that I wash down with a glass of milk. Food never meant much to me and it's even less important now. I glance at my watch and see that I have five hours to kill before I chow down with the Mars clan. What will I do with myself? Stay here and rot or drive around aimlessly and hope for salvation? An idea pops into my head and I decide to visit Lilly's grave. It's the last place they'll look for me, and if I get bored, I can always catch up on my sleep.

Veronica

5:00 passes and Duncan has yet to grace us with his presence. My Dad and I munch companionably on burgers and dogs and stare out at the ocean. He is probably thinking about Alicia and the investigator he plans on hiring and I am thinking of the two boys who love me. They might not see it this way, but they are far more alike than different. In their own way, they both come from broken homes. Duncan's parents only stay together out of convenience and Logan's are dead to him. Duncan's mother drugs him and Logan's father beats him. And back in the day, Lynn and Celeste used to play a mean hand of bridge while Jake and Aaron hit the back nine at Torrey Pines. Who could have ever guessed that it would come to this? And here I am, sitting with the only person who has never let me down, barely thinking of the mother who robbed us blind and skipped town. We don't talk about it, but I know Dad is looking for her. What happens on the day he finds her? Will he really have her thrown in jail?

And just when I think that Duncan is a no-show, his Benz squeals into the lot and jerks to a stop as he hits the brakes. He jumps out and runs up to us with an apologetic look on his face. "Sorry I'm late. I kind of overslept and well…here I am."

Duncan shakes my Dad's hand and smiles at me with a hesitance that I haven't seen in a long time. "Hey," he says as he helps himself to some food and sits on the very edge of the picnic table.

My Dad gets up and announces, "Well, you two have a good visit. I'm supposed to meet Alicia in a few minutes."

I make a face at his back and smile at his obviousness. "See ya."

Duncan waits until my Dad is out of earshot and asks, "Was it something I said?"

"Nope, he's just pulling his Yente routine."

He snorts like he knows he's supposed to laugh, but he clearly doesn't get the reference. After a long pause, Duncan asks, "Umm…who's Yente?"

"The matchmaker from Fiddler on the Roof."

His face turns pink as he digs into his food. I wait for the inevitable question and close my eyes when he throws it out for discussion. "Doesn't your Dad know about Logan?"

I shake my head. "Uh-uh."

"So he thinks that you and I are—" I hear the hope in his voice that he quickly buries behind a nervous laugh.

"Yeah." With a shrug, I help myself to a hotdog and sit back down on the bench.

Duncan shifts closer and I throw him a sideways glance when he touches my shoulder. "Why'd you lie to me, Veronica?"

God, it should never have come to this. I should have been straight with him from the start. "I didn't lie…exactly."

"Then what do you call it? You said you still cared about me and I believed you," he cried.

"That wasn't a lie, Duncan."

"Really? So what were you doing with Logan yesterday? Why weren't you with me? Why was I stuck in his hotel room while you two stole my car and had your way with each other?" Duncan rubbed his stubble and I saw the tears shining in his eyes before he turned away from me.

I try to gather my storm of thoughts into coherence. "I don't—"

He cuts me off with a wave of his hand. "Don't make excuses, Veronica. I saw your letter and your journal and the pictures he drew while you were sleeping."

You know that sinking feeling? Well, the Titanic doesn't even come close to the dip in my stomach. "What pictures?" I croak.

Duncan smiles unpleasantly. "He has a sketchpad, and there was this picture of you with no clothes on."

There's a sharp edge to his voice that tells me he's enjoying this. "I see."

His answering laugh cuts deep. "Sure you do. No wonder they say love is blind. I mean, why else would you choose him over me? The guy lies to you about Lilly, and he's still lying to you."

I grow very still as the anger I've suppressed comes creeping back, reminding me that Duncan is no saint. He slept with me with the full knowledge that I might be his sister and never said a word to me. And when the truth came out, he never once apologized for his actions. He manhandled me on several occasions and never thought that he might be hurting me. "Feel better now?"

His azure eyes burn into mine and I see the answer before he nods. "Yeah."

"You shouldn't."

His cheeks redden slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, you're no better than he is. You come over here pretending to be his friend and spend your time putting him down."

Duncan hangs his head for a second, but his gaze is hardly contrite when it returns to my face. "I know you don't see this, but I'm trying to protect you."

My laugh burns through my throat like sulfuric acid. "Now where have I heard that before?" I get to my feet and start to turn away when he grabs me elbow and spins me around. Before I can form a thought, his mouth is on mine, twisting and turning as he grinds his lips into mine angrily, forcing my lips open with his ravening tongue and groaning when I press back against him, hating myself as I give in to the twisted stew of desire that roils inside me.