Previously on Veronica Mars...

"So, I have news. I got offered an internship with, uh, Pitchfork Media. It's pretty much the most highly regarded music-review publication on the internet."

"Let's go Pizlicious! We got some moving on to do. Move it or lose it!" "Right. Moving on."

"I'm in. The FBI has chosen me for their summer internship!" "My daughter the Fed!" "Twelve fun-filled, pay-free weeks of schlepping coffee and office supplies at the Federal Bureau of Investigation!"

"Of course." "Is this jealousy I'm detecting?" "It's me realizing how stupid I was to think here would be any diff-" "I wasn't into the 'brother' story, so I told them you were my girlfriend."

"As much as it pains me to say this Vinnie, I could use…your assistance. I don't know where the money is, but I do know that when Liam sets his sights on someone, he never misses." "Wonder twin powers activate."

"Keith, we both know my trip down here wouldn't have been voluntary if you had anything." "Nothing yet, but I'm gonna keep picking off your flunkies. Eventually, one of them is gonna trade me ten years for your name. And a word of caution: Don Lamb's no longer in charge here." "You speaking ill of the dead, Keith? Wow, 'cause, uh, from what I understand, this crime wave doesn't let up, you won't be in charge long either."

Neptune (The River Styx):

"Private investigator Mars makes a habit of sticking his nose in MY business. Helps Cormac's bitch skip out with MY money. Ho ho no." Liam walked around the bar, his fingers tracing along any pool table, bar stool, counter, they came across. "My family's getting picked off one by one all because that balding mosquito is still buzzing around with the sheriff's badge." He stuck his hand in a bowl of nuts and crushed them before tossing the remnants into the air like confetti. "Tell me Mr. Van Lowe." He called out Vinnie's name with a taunting sneer. As Liam approached, Vinnie sat at the bar, hunched over and spinning a black disposable lighter between his thumb and index finger. "Why is that? Huh? Why?"

Vinnie spun around on his stool and faced Liam with what, to the untrained eye, could be construed as confidence. "Liam, my man, it's all about patience. These things take time to marin-"

"Time? TIME!" In one violent swoop, Liam grabbed a mug off the bar and threw it against the wall, shattering it instantly. "Time is what gets that Casablancas bitch further and further. Time is what brings private investigator Mars closer and closer. Time…" He reached out and yanked Vinnie by the shirt, pulling the P.I. within range of his harsh agitated seething. "…is what wears my patience thinner and thinner."

Vinnie laughed nervously as the lighter within his tightening grip dug deeper into his flesh. "I-I'm working on it."

"Working on it? Working…on…it?" Suddenly, Liam laughed, mimicking Vinnie's from just a moment earlier. He continued to snigger as his fingers loosened its hold of Vinnie's shirt. As he scanned around the room, his cackles became more and more considerable until he fell into an utterly psychotic fit of laughter. As quick as it was to begin, it ended, and Liam had his filthy fingers pulling on Vinnie's shirt once again. "You better be, or else you and me…we're gonna have a dance." He released Vinnie and took a deep, chest inflating breath. "Danny!" Patting his chest, he spun around. "Rack em' up! I feel the luck of the Irish coming on."

New York (Pitchfork Media):

Piz eyed his fellow intern from across the table much in the same way he had done with Wallace during the whole PJ versus Muse happenstance. "Really?"

"Really." Dexter, the only other Pitchfork intern for the summer, shrugged languidly.

"Desmond Fellows...of My Pretty Pony fame." Piz insisted on repeating himself as if the repetition would knock some knowledge into Dexter's head. "How can you not have heard of him? Come on! He uh-he just released that song, um, 'Before and After.' It's made of awesomeness by the way. Not to brag..." He dusted his shoulder. "...but my girlfri-…my ex-girlfriend…and I are partly responsible for that."

"Screw this." Lacking the motivation to work, Dexter pushed his laptop away and gave up on editing the seemingly endless amount of articles he had to do. "I'm not all that into music. Movies are more my thing."

"Then why are you even here?" The question was out there, hanging in the air before Piz could censor himself. "S-sorry."

"Nah, it's cool. It's stupid really. My mom threatened that if I didn't come and work for my crazy uncle she'd send me to boot camp."

"Uncle?"

"Yeah." Dexter stared at him like he was an idiot for not realizing. "What, you didn't know? That's a first." He laughed bitterly. "Everyone at school just loves reminding me. Bastards."

"Do you go to NYU?" Piz asked in an attempt to keep a conversation going. "I was thinking of going there, but California has a killer indie rock scene. Pretty much sold me on Hearst."

"Eh?" Wringing his hands together, Dexter cracked his knuckles. "I'm in high school man."

"Oh"

"Dex, Stosh…" Trevor Reeves, assistant to the owner of Pitchfork Media, whistled as he waved them over. "Mr. Schreiner summons you." He rolled his eyes and motioned with his head for them to follow. "His words not mine."

Dexter shot up, pumping a fist in the air as he feigned excitement. "GRRRRR-REAT!" A slew of expletives followed after the mockery. "God I hate him."

New York (Pitchfork Media – Mr. Schreiner's office):

Trevor knocked twice with his knuckles before opening the door and letting Piz and Dexter in. Piz's expression widen in awe of Mr. Schreiner's office. The walls were lined with various album covers, novelty posters, movie posters, and oddly, street signs. Action figures and other collectibles or memorabilia covered the tops of all the cabinets while Mr. Schreiner's desk itself was barely visible beneath all of the trinkets, toy cars, mind puzzles, and cubicle warfare products. Dexter seemed embarrassed, but Piz was more than fascinated.

"Ah, they arrive at last." With a fist full of red licorice, Mr. Schreiner beamed. "Thank you Tyler."

Trevor visibly tensed at being called the wrong name. "It's Trevor, sir."

"What?"

"Nothing..." Rolling his shoulder, Trevor released a deep breath through tightened lips. "That's Stosh and well, you know Dex."

"Mr. Schreiner." Piz acknowledged as he shook Mr. Schreiner's hand.

"Call me Ryan, will ya."

"Ryan?" Trevor looked appalled.

"Not you, Tanner. You call me Captain." Ryan took a bite of licorice as he neglected to notice the veins that were prominently pulsating along Trevor's temples.

"This office is amazing by the way." Piz's heart stopped when he spotted a distinct pile of wood and steel string sitting within a glass case. "Is-is that really…"

"Yep." Wearing a proud smile, Ryan answered before Piz could finish. "Peter Townshed's guitar: the Fender Stratocaster. Signed and smashed. Not in that order though."

Dexter wasn't nearly as impressed and quite frankly, didn't understand the appeal. "Why would anyone want a smas-"

"Don't get him started." Lifting a hand, Trevor prevented what most likely would have turned into an hour long explanation.

"Dexter!" Ryan turned to face his nephew. "Long time no see zergling. How's that mother of yours? Still scary?"

"Mom's fine." Dexter huffed in irritation.

"Uh, Captain?" Trevor aimed to steer the conversation back on track. "Shouldn't we…" He gestured towards the interns.

"Oh, right-right." Grabbing more licorice from a jar, Ryan took a seat at his desk and motioned for Piz and Dexter to do the same. "But I don't think there's a need for a 'we' here. Scurry away now Theodore." He shooed Trevor off.

Miffed, Trevor stomped his way out of the office as he grumbled under his breath. "Theodore? That's not even close!"

"Let's get started shall we?" Letting a piece of licorice hang from his mouth, Ryan began fiddling with a rubik's cube. Eye contact didn't seem to be a necessity in his world. "I assume my first mate T-something or another, did well with the orientating? Gave you boys the grand tour and whatnot? Showed you the ins and outs and all of our delicious secrets?" Piz nodded in response while Dexter slouched in his chair. "Now, I try to keep the office laid back and relatively easy going. Hell, I have only one rule: Don't. Screw. Me. Over." Taking a bite of licorice, Ryan tossed the now solved rubik's cube aside. "Yet, I somehow manage to find myself in quite the predicament." He paused, taking a moment to meet both of them eye for eye before continuing. "The book was stolen and I don't think I need to explain the value it possesses. Imagine my face when I discovered that the last two people to see it were…" He extended his arms out. "…my shiny new interns. As much as I love having grunts around, I may have to reconsider this intern thing and you know how it is these days. We stop having interns then next week another company stops having interns and before we know it, no more interns. Poof…gone. Kind of neat how these things work, huh?"

"But we didn't take anything." Piz tried to explain.

"Yeah, forgive me if I don't see any reason to believe…well, anything. How about a compromise? Police. Investigations. All messy. If magically the book were to reappear, I'll consider sweeping this whole ugly situation under the table. If not, well, I don't see any reason for either of you to remain here. Sorry Dex, even you." As Ryan spoke, Piz was sweating while Dexter just didn't care.

-You base is under attack-Your base is under attack-

"Crap!" Ryan spun to face his computer screen and began frantically manipulating the mouse and keyboard. "Go. Take some time off. Think about what you may or may not have done. If the book doesn't come back, don't bother coming back either."

New York (apartment):

Parker screamed as she jumped hysterically on the couch. "Get it! Get it! Get it! It's over there! Get it!" Her hands fanned in disgust. "Eww, hurry Mac! It's getting away!"

"Talk about suffering from a serious case of dramatics." Mac snorted.

Parker panicked as Mac captured the spider that was behind her fright in a cup rather than killing it. "Wha-what are you doing?"

"Taking it outside."

"What if it comes back?"

"It's not like it has a vendetta against you." Mac responded as though the question was ridiculous.

"Ugh. Spiders are so gross with their furry bodies and…furry legs." Parker stuck her tongue out in repulsion. "I mean really, what do they need all those limbs for anyways?"

Shaking her head, Mac opened the front door. Out of nowhere, Piz came tunneling into the apartment with arms thrashing about. "I'm dead. That's it. I'm dead. Start planning the funeral, because I'm dead."

Mac startled backwards as Piz blew past her. Glancing down at the cup in her hand, she shrugged and tossed the spider out the door. "Are you two dueling for the best dramatic roommate award? Sorry Piz, Parker's in the lead."

With arms crossed and hip popped for emphasis, Parker shot Mac her best evil-eye.

"You know that awesome internship gig I've got. Yeah, uh, I'm gonna lose it and then its goodbye New York. It was nice knowing you." Continuing the ongoing dramatics, he threw his hands up. "Don't worry; I'll let the door hit me on the way out."

"What did you do?" Parker ran a hand through her long locks as she stepped off the couch.

"Nothing." Piz said looking a tad insulted. "The book was stolen and of course…" He gestured to himself. "…they blame the new guy."

"A book?" Parker's expression twisted in pure bafflement. "I don't get it."

"It's like Pitchfork's equivalent of a little black book. It has all the contact info of every artist that Pitchfork has ever dealt with. You have any idea what that thing is worth?" Piz stressed with trepidation coating his voice.

"Uh, hello 21st century." Mac held her hands out in a 'Duh' fashion. "Have they not heard of computers? I hear even Costco carries them now."

"It's more of a, I don't know, novelty thing. Kind of like the framed dollar bill restaurants keep."

"Aren't there other interns?" Parker questioned. "They can't just blame you...can they?"

"There's one other guy, but he's the boss's nephew…and like twelve." Piz groaned as he slumped across the kitchen counter, banging his head against it repeatedly as he did so. "I'm dead. Either of you know where I can find a deal on an urn? Black market maybe. It'd really help."

"W.W.V.D." Mac offered with no explanation.

Piz lifted his reddened head in a muddled expression. "World wide…venereal disease?"

Mac leaned forward on the counter as a sly grin crept on her face. "What. Would. Veronica. Do?"

Logan's and Veronica's apartment (living room/bathroom):

Opening the bedroom door slightly, Veronica risked a stealthy peek into the living room. Having been greeted with Logan sound asleep on the couch she swiftly tip-toed her way to the bathroom.

Slowly she pushed on the doorknob from behind her, wincing as the bathroom door closed with a heavy click. Taking a deep steadying breath, she padded her way to the sink, curled her fingers around the edges and stared on at her reflection.

So Veronica, what are you doing? You're no longer high school Veronica or college freshman Veronica. Today, you're FBI intern Veronica. So why are you letting one little kiss get you all flustered? You both agreed to take things slow…no need to freak…yet.

After her morning wash-up routine, Veronica prayed that she would be able to return to the bedroom and eventually leave without waking the sleeping boy on the couch. Upon opening the door, her breath hitched as she noticed Logan leaning against the wall across from her. In a brain dead reaction, she drew in a sharp breath and hastily shut the door again. Internally she sighed, grimacing at her actions.

Welcome back high school Veronica. How've you been?

"You're gonna have to come out of there eventually." Logan's muffled voice carried through the thin walls causing Veronica to roll her eyes, more at herself than at his words.

"Consider yourself blessed." She said, finally stepping out of the bathroom. "You should know better than to challenge my stubbornness. Some say it's mule like."

Logan shrugged, pushing himself off the wall and pulling his arms across his bare chest in a satisfying stretch. "So…" He paused, smirking. "How do booty calls work now? Do I knock first? Slip a note under your door?" Obnoxiously, he moved to rest against the wall nearest to her. "Or is the call part still mandatory?"

Once more Veronica rolled her eyes, this time less at herself and more at his words.

"What?" He asked innocently.

With lips pursed, a harsh exhale escaped through Veronica's nostrils. "I have to go. Big day."

Logan reached out and grabbed her elbow as she brushed by him. "Hey. Listen, I'm sorry." He apologized, rubbing light circles on her arm with his thumb. "What are you doing later? I was thinking maybe we could go out. Have one of those…" Out of the corner of his lips, he made a smacking noise. "What's the word?"

"Wow, is Logan Echolls asking me out on a…date?" Sarcastically, Veronica brought her fists to her hips and shifted her weight to her right leg. "What about all the other girls waiting in line? Certainly this will lead to massive amounts of hair pulling and nail scratching. Not to mention I'd be a line jumper."

Logan grinned, tilting his head forward a bit as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Is that a yes?"

New York (living room/Piz's room):

"No."

"Yes."

"No." Piz reiterated, waving his hands in front of him. "Nuh-uh."

"C'mon, man up and call her already." Rolling her eyes at Piz's pathetic display, Mac tried desperately to reason with him. "You know you have to, I mean, can you think of anyone else that would know what to do?"

"Uh…Jessica Fletcher?" He answered almost too artlessly. "You think she's listed? You know what? I'll go check." Piz's attempt to run away was thwarted by Mac snatching his phone out of his hand. "H-hey!" His heart raced as she started dialing. He could feel his palms beginning to sweat. "No, really you don-"

"It's ringing." With a wicked grin, Mac brought the phone to Piz's ear. "You might actually have to use that mouth of yours. Just saying."

Accompanied by furrowed brows and a scowling expression, Piz retreated to his bedroom. He hadn't spoken to Veronica since she left for Virginia, with Logan on her heel of course, and now didn't seem like the best time to start. Life at that moment, as far as Piz was concerned, kind of sucked.

"Hello?"

He swallowed back the nerves he swore he didn't have a ring earlier and tried his best to be anything, but awkward. Normal was the goal here. Good old fashioned normal Piz. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure suits are supposed to answer the phone with their last name. And a gravelly sexy kind of voice is most definitely required."

"Piz." She gave a sort of a breathy laugh that helped ease him into a more calming state. "It's good to hear from you. How are you?"

"Great great, you know, for a guy who uh, isn't doing so great. Yeah…" He began pacing the length of his bed as he folded his free arm across his chest. "I kinda, sorta, maybe...could use your help. Long distance."

"I have to know." She spoke in a pseudo business-like manner. "Does this involve a welcome wagon or a heavy set girl of some kind? Because if it does, I'm hanging up."

"A guy gets juked one time and it's all let's pick on him, he's like from Brigadoon. He's gullible and naive." He retorted defensively yet lightheartedly as a small smile formed.

"Was something stolen?" The silence on his end was all the answer she needed. "Oh Piz, Piz, Piznarski. Have I taught you nothing?"

"Learning is so overrated." Piz chuckled as he heard Veronica respire through the phone.

"Start from the beginning."

New York (apartment living room):

"So…" With a keen and giddy look in her eyes, Parker plopped on the couch beside Mac, nudging her in the arm. "So…"

Mac raised a brow and shook her head, perfectly content with ignoring her roommate's antics.

"C'mon Mac-attack, dish." Parker squealed as she swatted Mac on the shoulder. "You and Piz." She teased, her voice heightening to a new level of girlie. "Is it just me or is there some serious sparkage going on between the two of you?"

"It's just you." Mac gave her the side eye, completely dumbfounded by Parker's out of left field revelation. "We're just friends."

"Oh yeah right." Parker scoffed. "Just friends." She pointed to her lackluster expression. "You see this? This is me totally not believing you."

"Please stop talking." Mac shifted around uncomfortably, narrowing her gaze to a suddenly fascinating spot on the floor. "We. Are. Friends. Don't jump to conclusions."

"I didn't jump. I strolled and wouldn't you know, there the conclusions were." Parker lifted her shoulders candidly.

Rolling her eyes, Mac groaned. "He's Veronica's ex, remember? My best friend. Isn't there some kind of girl code to abide by concerning this?"

"Oh girl code, schmo-code. That's a lame excuse and you know it." Patting Mac's thigh, Parker grinned devilishly. "Trust me, when it comes to these sorts of things...I know my stuff."

New York (Piz's room/living room):

"Just so you know, you and that brain of yours...yeah, my heroes." Filled with relief, Piz fell backwards onto his bed, supporting the back of his head with an arm. The panic he felt earlier washed away because yet again, Veronica's unparalleled deductive skills and logical nature would save him.

"Finally I can compete with Keith Richards! My day has been made." Her exaggerated excitement poured through the phone causing Piz to smile at how easy it seemed to talk to her again.

"Thanks Veronica, really. You didn't have to help me. You could have easily gotten your snob on, but you didn't."

"You know you can ask me for anything right?" She responded instantly, almost offended that he would expect anything less of her. "We are…friends?"

"Yes-yeah of-of course! Friends, totally. All the way. Definitely, friends are what you and I are." Piz shook his head at his nonsensical ramble as he palmed his face wishing for a 'do over' button. "Yep."

"Good. That's good." The solace coating her tone melted away some of the embarrassment he felt lingering. "Listen, I-I have to go, but I just wanted to thank you. For everything. You're a good guy Piznarski."

There was a noticeable honesty in her voice that Piz couldn't help, but be amazed by. "You too. Uh, girl I mean. Goodbye Veronica."

"Goodbye Piz."

Sitting up, Piz blinked through an array of fleeting thoughts as a glimmer of palliation tugged on the corner of his lips. An emotion he couldn't quite distinguish stirred pleasantly within his chest. Throwing his phone aside, he made way for the living room.

On the couch, Mac held a hand up blocking her face, creating a barrier between her and Parker. "If I can't see you, I can't hear you."

Parker crossed her arms in a pout, pulling her chin close to her chest. "How's that working out for you?"

"Ooh!" Rubbing his hands together passionately, Piz squeezed in between the two girls, his sudden weight causing them to bounce a few centimeters. "Chick fight?"

"How goes the plotting?" Scooting over to allow for more room, Mac jumped at the much needed change of subject hoping that Piz would let go of his interest in what they were discussing beforehand. "Did Veronica dispense some of that sleuthing magic of hers?"

"Yeah." Impishly his eyes widened with an ever growing grin as his nods became more and more exaggerated. "You guys ready to go?"

Both girls leaned forward, gaping at one another while wearing matching 'Huh?' expressions.

Quantico (Orientation room):

"Hi. How you doing? Hey. Welcome." Standing outside the orientation room, Agent Scott Reid greeted every bright eyed intern as they arrived. "Hi, right in here. Nice to meet you."

"Look at what the cat dragged in."

Agent Reid's jaw constricted at the condescending sound. "Agent Morris." He nodded politely.

With a predatory smile, Agent Morris crossed her arms as she approached. "This makes what? Three years in a row that the so called 'Reader' drew the short straw? Something tells me the higher ups aren't very fond of you." She finished with a low demeaning chuckle.

"Lucy…" Agent Reid implored. "Let's not do this."

Agent Morris brought her hands to her hips and nodded. "How is the new breed faring this year?" She questioned as she spared a glance at all the young hopefuls waiting eagerly in the room. "Any promising blood this time around?"

"There is this one girl whose file got my interest peaked. Um, I think her name was…"

"Veronica Mars." Taking notice of Veronica, Agent Morris shook her head incredulously as her lips pulled upwards on one side. "Watch yourself with that one Scott. She's…slippery."

"Veronica Mars?" A scrawny squirrely fellow grabbed the seat in front of Veronica and boorishly began staring at her in examination. "Veronica Mars? Oh my god, you. You're her aren't you?"

Veronica raised a bewildered brow as she fidgeted with the pencil in her hands. "Uh…do I know you?"

"Will Greenwalt." Will encased her right hand in a firm and vigorous handshake. "I've read up about you." He spread his hands out wide above his head, his thumb and index making L shapes. "Local detective solves Lilly Kane murder. High school student blows the lid off the Neptune bus crash. Men behind numerous rapes at Hearst imprisoned thanks to college freshman. You inspire more headlines than Paris Hilton."

What's this? Someone that's heard of me? Lovely….

"Out of fairness, let me warn you." Will leaned forward across her desk and lowered his voice to a gossiping hiss. His eyes darkened as his dirty blond hair fell forwards, framing his face. "I will destroy you. There can be only one star in this picture and that's me." Tauntingly, he winked. "Nice meeting you…cupcake."

Veronica clucked her tongue as she applied the death grip to her pencil.

Hey Will, wanna see a neat pencil trick?

"Don't mind Mandark there. He's allergic to women." A soft voice snapped Veronica out of her malicious thoughts.

"Huh?" She barely acknowledged as her eyes remained trained to the back of Will's head, pencil firmly in her grasp.

"He does this whole stalker thing to everyone. Lucky for you, you're the biggest threat this year." The fair haired girl extended her arm out. "Katriel Greenwalt, the non competitive one of the family."

"You're related to…" Veronica made a disgusted face. "…that?"

"That's what our mother claims. Frankly, I don't believe her."

"Welcome everybody." As everyone settled, Agent Reid entered and sat on top of the teacher like desk in the front of the room. "I'm Special Agent Reid and it will be my job to ensure that by the end of this program each and every one of you leaves here…" He paused, cracking a jovial smile. "…with the skills to finally make a damn decent cup of coffee."

Collectively, the interns laughed, Will's reigning louder than the others.

"Some of you I recognize from last summer. Glad to see I didn't scare you off." Will perked up at Agent Reid's pronouncement and offered a brown nosing wave. "The rest of you…be sure you bring it." He stood, clapping his hands together. "First off: a tour. Then let the excitement begin!"

New York (Pitchfork Media):

"You were right about the kid." Trevor sat at the front desk with phone to his ear and a disappointed look covering his features. "Nah, I keep getting his voice-mail."

-ding -

"Yeah, I'll try again. I'll keep you posted." Placing the receiver back into its cradle, he was surprised by the sight of a pretty in pink blond girl stumbling out of the elevator. She was spinning around, obviously lost, stopping only when she noticed the building map above the elevator call button. Making tiny uneasy noises, she brought her thumb nail to her teeth and wore the look of innocence perfectly. "Um?" Trevor arched an eyebrow as he approached the young woman. "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say you're lost."

She looked down, blushing and giggling as she pushed back a lock of hair behind her ear. "Is it that obvious?"

Running a hand along his gelled hair, Trevor offered a lopsided grin. "A bit." His eyes scanned the form before him as his thumbs rested within his belt loops. "Need help finding your way?"

"Uh yeah actually." The girl perked up, eyes bright and smile wide. "I'm trying to find...uh...um…" Biting her lower lip, she gave a quick glance back to the building map. "...Dr. Falus' office. This place is so confusing."

"Dr. Falus?" He chuckled as his eyes took to examining her once again. Up, down, then up again. "You don't look like the Doctor's usual type of guest."

"Huh?" Her shoulders dropped and her expression twisted.

Jutting his chin out, Trevor gestured towards the building map. He shook his head and rocked his posture when the girl's eyes widen as she finally noticed the wording beyond Dr. Falus' name: 'Nympho Radio.'

She turned an adorable shade of pink that went hand in hand with her shirt. Shaking her head vigorously, she clutched at her purse in mortification. "No. I…no." Adamantly, she stressed her words. "It's not what you think."

"I'm not here to judge." Smacking his lips, his hands drummed along his hips. "Uh, he broadcasts two floors up from here. You're gonna wanna take a left out of the elevator. Then a right at the end of the hall. Keep going until you pass the creepy painting on the left side and it'll be the third door after that."

Chewing on her lip, she released a jolt of air through her nostrils. "I got lost just listening to that."

"Follow me." Trevor leaned forward, supporting himself on one leg and tapping the elevator call button with his knuckle.

"Thanks." Loosely, the girl ran a hand down Trevor's bicep and successfully planted the seed of suggestion in his mind. "That's totally sweet of you."

-ding-

As he ushered the girl in the elevator, Trevor cleared his throat, making sure that the next time he spoke it wouldn't come out ridiculously high. Once they were gone the door to the stairwell inched open.

"Hmm." Mac said as she stepped out of the stairwell. "Veronica was right. Parker was born to play the distraction. Never will I doubt the power of blonds again."

Justifiably distracted, Piz brushed past Mac without giving Parker's performance a second thought. "It-it's this way. Through here." He guided her through a door with the words 'Employees only Exceptions Made for Robots and Those Experienced with Air Guitars' etched on the glass. "You can do this right? Veronica said it'd be cake for you."

"Yeah, just get me to the copy machine and I'll be able to go into the diagnostic screen. Find out who's been using it. If you're lucky, I may even be able to hack into the temporary memory bank and get copies of what's been scanned recently."

"Um…the thing doesn't just, like, take a picture or something?"

"Picture? You really have no clue how copy machines work, do you?" Mac shook her head at Piz's preposterous assumption. "So tell me again what the point of all this is? Not that it's not fun in the reminiscence of Neptune sort of way, but I don't get it."

"Veronica said the information is the money, not the actual book. So basically we're banking on the guy making copies instead of trying to sneak the whole book out." Piz shrugged. "If she's wrong, well I'm screwed and back to being dead." He crossed his fingers. "Here's to hoping."

"So…" Mac's fingers took to twisting at her abdomen. "Talking to Veronica went well then? You two back on…track?"

"Huh?"

"You and Veronica."

"Oh…" Burying his hands in his pockets, Piz turned his gaze downwards as the corner of his mouth pulled into a small half smile of content. "You know, I think we're good. Friends only of course, but…good. Yeah, I don't know, it feels kind of liberating I guess. Like I got a 'get out of heartache free card' or something."

Mac nodded in understanding as their eyes met in a shared moment.

"H-here we are." Chocking on his words, Piz held the door open to the copy room and let Mac enter first.

"Don't worry…" She comforted. "…it'll be easy. In and out in like five minutes."

As Piz followed in after, he bumped into a still standing Mac. "Eh?" He followed Mac's sight and in front of him stood Dexter looking like a deer caught in headlights and hovering over the copy machine. "Oh." Piz's expression dropped.

Stretching her neck out, Mac saw a black book being copied and a stack of what appeared to be valuable contact information sitting in the copy tray. "See?" She turned to face Piz and lifted her shoulders. "Easy."

Neptune (Mars Residence):

-knock-knock-knock-

Glancing at the red 7:14 on his alarm clock, Keith let out an audible groan.

-knock-knock-knock-

Sluggishly, he rolled out of bed and threw on the first pair of pants he could find.

-knock-knock-

"I'm coming. I'm coming." He grumbled as he passed an attentive Backup who sat growling at the front door. "I'm gonna have to teach you how to answer the door one of these days." Backup cocked his head to the side as Keith looked down at him. "Answer and attack of course." Keith amended, earning a dog smile from his four legged comrade. Upon answering the door, a frown instantly formed. "This better be good."

With his back turned towards the apartment, Vinnie eyed his surroundings cautiously as if he was playing the role of secret operative infiltrating government headquarters and slid his way in. As soon as he was inside, Vinnie plopped on the couch, threw a plain manila envelope on the coffee table, crossed his legs, and slung his arms across the backrest.

Keith dragged a hand down his face in attempt to rub the sleepiness out of him and pointed at the envelope. "What's that?"

Leaning forward, Vinnie flicked his nose with his thumb. "The goods, mi amigo." He opened the envelope and out poured various 8" x 10" photos. Each photo showcased a different member of the Fighting Fitzpatricks and each photo had the person's name written in black felt beneath the portrait. "Now you really gotta take a sec and admire the craftsmanship here." Vinnie grinned as he held his hands out, palms facing the photos. "Perfect lighting. Perfect focus. Well…" He smacked his lips as he reached into his jacket pocket. "…with skills like mine and this nifty little beaut how could they not be?" He pulled what seemed to have been nothing more than a typical disposable lighter out of his pocket and tossed it in the air, catching it in the opposite hand. "Gotta love the biz." He winked as his thumb revealed the camera lens hidden at the top of the lighter.

"And this couldn't wait till, I don't know, the sun had a little more time to stretch?" Keith bemoaned into the hand that was supporting his weary head as he slumped into a chair.

"You know, I was thinking that dollar signs might not be enough for this sort of job. I mean, I'm digging in the trenches. Wading in the pool of danger. Wha-what are those things boy scouts get?"

"Cookies?"

"Ah…" Vinnie brought a hand to his forehead as he racked his brain for the word he was searching for. "…medals! Yeah-yeah, a big shiny one inscribed with 'Vinnie Van Lowe…'" He flashed his fingers with ever word. "'…The Sheriff's Go To Guy.' Has a nice ring to it." Standing up, Vinnie walked the length of the living room and examined every object he came across be it an apple or a family photo. "Course it would have to be in some kind of code, you know, with the Fighting Fitz looming around as they do." He turned to Keith as he held a random trinket from the display shelf in his hands. "You think the Irish understand pig Latin? It's the only language I'm fluent in…aside from English of course. 'Ethay Eriffshay's Ogay Otay Uygay.'" His expression quirked. "Hmmm, ring's not so nice."

Releasing an exasperated sigh, Keith rubbed his temples as he tuned Vinnie's incongruity out and focused on the photos before him. "Not to sound ungrateful, but do you have anything other than these, uh, glamour shots?"

"Huh? Oh…" Vinnie returned to his spot on the couch and spread out a handful of the photos for easy viewing. "You're familiar with these two." He pointed to Liam's and Danny's pictures. "These three gents…" He gestured to the photos of Ciaran, Padraig, and Aidan. "…are the leads behind the drug ring. Deals with mostly white powder. Get this; they use confessionals to move the stuff. Heh, Tsk tsk. I remember back in the day when…" Vinnie held his hands up when Keith shot him an impatient glare. "The bulk of them are grunts, but these two…" He moved the photos of two young men on to the top of the pile. The names Braden and Griffin were spelled on the bottom. "…these two are the weak points. They tagged along on a few of the robberies and with no recognition. Poor kids." Vinnie shook his head sympathetically. "Figured I'd push them a little, point them in your direction and then bing boom blazang you caught yourself a canary. All you gotta do is make it sing."

Keith leaned in intently. "What's this plan of yours exactly?"

New York (Pitchfork Media – copy room):

"What are you doing?" Distraught and confusion seared in the back of Piz's throat. "You took the book? But-but I thought-"

Dexter rolled his eyes and wiped away the deer expression he had been wearing. "Oh don't be such a pansy. I'm gonna return it."

"That's so not the point. Ryan's your uncle."

"So?" Dexter laughed. "I didn't want to come here. You think I give a crap about all this music stuff? Besides, I didn't take it."

Mac shrugged. "Um, I for one am skeptical."

"Who's this?" Dexter licked his lips and tilted his head as his eyes moved along Mac's form, causing her skin to crawl. "A real life groupie? Cool…"

Piz positioned himself protectively between Mac and the degrading stare Dexter was offering. "She's a friend, man, leave it alone. If you didn't take it, then who did?"

"That would be me."

All at once, Dexter, Mac, and Piz jumped at the sudden intrusion. In the doorway, Trevor leaned against the frame as he examined his finger nails.

"Okay, why can't all of Veronica's cases be as simple as this?" Mac commented, looking rightfully gob-smacked. "I think she might be doing it wrong."

"Could you, um, excuse us?" Trevor tapped Mac on the shoulder and gestured towards the door, closing it as she exited.

"Uh…my mind? Completely blown." Thrown off kilter, Piz brought his hands to his hips and blinked rapidly.

Dexter jumped up and took a seat on top of the copy machine. "Trevor here came up with it all."

"Dex…it's quiet time now." Trevor closed his fingers together in a silencing motion. "Let me spell it out for you Piznarski. I hate it here. I need this information to start up my own company. And I convinced Mr. Schreiner not to do anything drastic as long as the book is returned. See win-win-win." He patted Piz on the back.

"But-"

"No buts." Trevor hid his hands in his pockets, thumbs remaining in his belt loops, as his eyes widened with purpose. "Either you're in or out Piznarski. It should be simple. You're in and I guarantee you a job with the company that will mutilate Pitchfork, in additions to various cash and prizes of course, or you're out and I run and tell Mr. Schreiner that you were the one that took his precious book. What do you say?"

"C'mon Piz, don't be stupid." Dexter egged.

Piz held onto the back of his neck with both his hands and pulled down. "I-I-I don't know…"

"Take some time." Trevor placed his arm around Piz's shoulders. "Think about it. It's only your future."

Staring blankly at the floor, Piz nodded.

Quantico (conference room):

So what does a girl do on her first thrilling day as a FBI intern? Paper work. I've been tasked with going through phone records and highlighting when a specific number appears. Talk about exciting.

Around a large conference table, numerous interns sat with highlighter in hand and a permanent concentrated look on their faces. Will sat across from Veronica, glaring every so often in her direction.

"If he keeps looking at me like that, I'm gonna start thinking he has a crush on me." Veronica mused.

"Ignore him." Katriel waved her brother off. "He's a genius when it comes to computers and finding things out about people, but with life? He's nothing, but a snot nosed kid vying for attention. When it comes down to it, he's scared of you."

"Then I must be doing something right." Returning Will's previous taunt, Veronica winked at him.

"Ms. Mars?" Agent Reid uttered from the doorway with coffee cup in hand. "Can I see you after you're done with that stack?"

"Cupcake's in trouble." Will muttered under his breath in a sing song voice.

"Tell me." Veronica leered as she tapped the highlighter against the table. "How much would you miss your brother if he were to oh, I don't know, mysteriously evaporate?"

Katriel snickered. "Not very."

Quantico (Special Agent Reid's Office):

"Have a seat." Agent Reid gestured towards the chair.

As Veronica took a seat she noticed the shiny nameplate that sat on the Agent's well kept desk.

Special Agent Scott Reid. Criminal Psychologist. A profiler? That explains a lot. In his eyes, I must look like a messy petri dish to study.

"You fascinate me Veronica Mars." Supporting the back of his head with his hands, Agent Reid leaned back in his chair.

"Aw," Veronica prattled inappropriately. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

Agent Reid smiled. "You know, I've seen my fair share of interns. None of them are quite as…" He moved forward, squinting as his mind searched for a fitting term. "…decorated as you are."

Propping her elbows on the armrest, Veronica held her hands out in presentation. "Every girl has to have a hobby. Some collect sea shells. I collect bad guys."

"You have high potential Veronica." Agent Reid moved his hands as though he was giving a presidential speech, attempting to get his point across. "I'd like to see more than defensive sarcasm and round about not so legal techniques in that arsenal of yours. It so happens I find myself in need of a special project. A protégé if you will." He tilted his head towards her, his voice emphatic. "You interested?"

Veronica Mars: teacher's pet? When did I stumble upon the Underverse?

"Uh…" Veronica's eyes fluttered as her tone held a hint of uncertainty. "…sure?"

Quantico (outside Special Agent Reid's Office):

Agent Morris paced with posture tensed and arms crossed. An impatient finger tapped along her elbow as Veronica exited.

"Agent Morris." Veronica recognized with an insidious grin. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Veronica Mars." Agent Morris responded with a similar smirk. "Talk to that boyfriend of yours lately?"

Veronica shrugged as her thumbs teased the edges of her pockets. "Don't you remember?" She tilted her head. "The last time I spoke with Duncan is when he went all John Anderton on me over the phone." Shifting her gaze upwards, her expression contorted to a look of contemplation. "From…Big Bear was it?"

"Hmm, cool as ever." Agent Morris credited. "You're a colorful one, Veronica Mars. I'll be watching you."

Smiling wide, Veronica gave a thumbs up before making her departure.

Agent Morris grunted. "Funny girl." With a deep exhale, she marched into Agent's Reid's office, the clicks of her heels intensifying each step. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Organizing my pens." Agent Reid spoke literally, ignoring Agent Morris' chastising tone as he shuffled through his desk drawer. "Fun fact: Did you know that one in every three pens a person keeps in their desk is dried up?" He shared as he threw a couple of pens in the waste basket. "Yep, even though they don't work, we just keep throwing them back in."

"The girl." She sighed indignantly.

"Oh her?" Pulling on his jacket, he adjusted comfortably in his seat. "She's one of those rare finds amongst the interns. Figured it'd be good to secure her before one of those other agents, like that top notched partner of yours, get their grubby fingers on her and proceeds to ruin her." He finished, mumbling in his words.

"Jealousy has never suited you." Agent Morris shook her head caustically. "This is about the Goldilocks case, isn't it? This road you're on, it's a desperate one."

"I don't want to discuss this with you." Agent Reid sliced the air definitively as his emotions forced him into a standing position. "Now is not a good time."

"It's been four years Scott, you have to start letting go." Spitting the words out abrasively, she was more furious than sincere. "The case is dead and you, if you'd bother to recall, were the cause of it."

"I was acquitted." He huffed. "Lucy, she's out there." His tone took a doleful turn as he reached for a framed photo of a curly haired blond girl. "I can feel it and the one who took her…and those other kids…I can't let this go till someone is behind bars and my-my Ally is returned to me." Drenched with familiar sorrow, Agent Reid stroked the photo girl's cheek.

New York (Pitchfork Media – Ryan Schreiner's office):

"I love fishes cause they're so delicious." Ryan sang as he funneled a handful of goldfish crackers into his mouth. "Mmm mm-fishin'!"

-knock-knock-knock-

"J-just a moment!" He called out through crunches as he dusted his hands over a waste basket. "Enter."

The hinges squeaked as the door pushed open. "Uh, hi…" Hesitantly, Piz walked the distance between the door and Ryan's desk. Too jittery to sit, Piz chose to remain standing and curled his fingers around the back of a guest chair opposite his boss…soon to be ex-boss most likely.

Wearing a curious expression, Ryan held out his bag of crackers. "Smiling snack?" Using his eyes, he urged Piz to take some.

"No thanks."

"Your loss." Ryan shrugged, placing the bag in his desk drawer. "So Stosh, what's on your mind?" In need of busying his hands, he grabbed the Tower of Hanoi puzzle sitting on his desk and began solving it. The clicks of the pieces echoed with every drop. "Based on your apprehensiveness…" Strangely, he tilted his head and repeated the word 'apprehensiveness' as he ticked off each syllable with his fingers. "Ha! Five syllables! Beat that Mike on tenth." He darted a glance at Piz before returning his attention back to the tower puzzle. "Oh sorry. It's just this vocabulary thing I'm a part of. Where was I? Oh! Based on your apprehensiveness, I'm gonna go with…" Stalling his movements, Ryan narrowed his gaze, his brows twitching slightly. "…hmm, a confession?"

Piz tensed as his heart threatened to leap out of his chest with every nerve intensifying beat. "Yes. No. Um, not really." He folded an arm across his chest while he rubbed his forehead with his free hand. "I didn't take the book." He said it rapidly, as though he was holding the words back, but couldn't any longer.

"Okay…" Drawing the sound out, Ryan nodded slowly as he pushed the puzzle aside. "I see a 'but' on the horizon."

Moving his weight around awkwardly, Piz shuffled through his thoughts. "Uh, you know when someone is getting picked on, harassed even, and a crowd gathers, but no one stops it."

"So far, I follow."

"Some would say that the bystanders are just as guilty, right? But-but really when you think about it…" As Ryan pursed his lips and quirked a brow, Piz deflated in defeat and began turning away. "I'll go clean out my locker."

"Stosh?" Ryan spoke just as Piz reached the door. "Un-skedaddle yourself and have a seat will ya." He leaned over and pressed the intercom button on his desk phone.

-beep-

"Yo?"

"Come please." Ryan twiddled his thumbs and began humming the bridge portion of the song 'All These Things I've Done' by The Killers quietly to himself. He plastered on a large fake smile for Piz's benefit, but it was done to no avail. The poor boy just sat there, leg drumming away. "Gees, relax. You're making me stressed."

Piz was about to open his mouth and voice some sort of an apology, but was distracted by Trevor entering. Initially, Trevor walked with a bit of a saunter in his step, but as soon as he caught a glimpse of Piz sitting there, his body stiffened and his step morphed into a brisk tense sort. "You rang…Captain?" He came to a stop at Ryan's side.

With a flick of his wrist, Ryan snorted. "No longer necessary, me thinks." He drew in an audible breath and waved his hand between Piz and Trevor in presentation. "Stosh Piznarski meet Trevor Reeves."

Piz was addled. "Yeah, we met. More than once actually."

"No…" Ryan was fast to correct. "…you met Trevor Reeves, the underappreciated…ha seven syllables…personal assistant. This is Trevor Reeves, co-owner of Pitchfork Media."

"I-wait what?" Piz's features screwed into a smorgasbord of every emotion imaginable.

"Sorry for the act." Trevor opened the desk drawer, pulled out the goldfish crackers that Ryan had been munching on and popped a few in his mouth. "We've been dragged through the crapper by…well insert a bad word here…before so we devised this…test?" He looked over to Ryan who nodded in confirmation. "Yeah I guess we can call it a test. We put all the newbies through it."

Piz stared at both of them vacantly as his lower lip, weighted by immense confusion, dropped. He was speechless.

"YOU…NEWBIE…HE...TESTER…HE…TEST…YOU…NEWBIE." Ryan spoke excruciatingly slow and painfully loud like an ignorant American trying to speak to someone who doesn't speak English very well…or even at all. "Comprende?"

"Not really, no." Piz drew his brows together and shook his head. "So…this whole thing…" He gestured with his hand in a circular motion. "…all fake? But what about the book?"

Trevor moved to sit on top of the only filing cabinet not covered with statues or action figures. "Heh, most of the names in there are from comics and eighties sitcoms. Blame Ryan, the sixtieth level dork, for that."

"Excuse me!" Ryan snapped. "It's level eighty now, thank you. Sheesh, ever heard of expansions?" He rolled his eyes as he began playing with one of the many toy cars that sat on his desk.

"Whatever." Trevor moaned apathetically. "Anyways, Piz you passed. Dex failed. Welcome aboard I guess."

"You were just testing us?" Piz was still a little lost and in need of validation.

"Yep!" Ryan answered, popping the 'P' as he did so. "We deal with loads of private stuff here and we have to smooze many who require the private stuff to remain private. See the trial as a cautionary prevention if you like. You didn't accept T-man's offer, so pass there. You didn't take anything yourself, another pass."

"You didn't narc." Trevor interjected.

"Uh, I suppose that's…aristocratic, so again a pass. You kind of turned yourself in, that's amiable so extra credit pass." Bored with the car, Ryan tossed it aside. "And most importantly, I used a seven syllable word while talking to you, so yay on me!"

"I'm still an intern then?" More or less still befuddled, Piz had to make sure.

"Rightio." Ryan replied.

"And he's the owner." Piz pointed to Trevor. "Not a pissed off assistant who's on the brink of going postal?"

"Co-owner." Ryan coughed as he rectified Piz's statement. "And at least five to six steps from going postal."

Sighing, Trevor hopped off the filing cabinet as he wiped his cheese fingers against his jeans and walked Piz to the door. "Go home. Chill. Get your head straightened. Tomorrow we'll get you started for real."

"Okay…sweet." Piz nodded. "Thanks."

With Piz gone, Trevor turned back to Ryan, who was getting up and closing the distance between them. "You gonna deal with the kid? He hates you so much. Heh, I kind of liked him."

"Yeah, fetch him will ya." Ryan snatched his bag of crackers out of Trevor's hands and pushed him out the door. "And you can deal with telling my sister." He smiled vexatiously before slamming the door in Trevor's face.

Pressing his hear up against the door, Ryan giggled as Trevor's blustering - "Aw man!" - rang through.

Logan's and Veronica's apartment (living room):

-Player One wins-

"See, I told you. Always pick the chick with the biggest cans. Makes for the best distraction. Look! I'm not even moving and the twins keep on jiggling." Thanks to technology and the PSN, Dick's voice blared from Logan's headset.

"Thanks for the advice, Dick." Sitting at the edge of the couch, Logan propped his elbows on his knees while he held on to the controller with determination. "But I think it's time that ass of yours gets kicked."

"Ho, big talk for someone who's vagina whipped. Ronnie got that leash around your neck yet?"

-Ready-Fight-

"Shut-up man, it's not like that. Not this time."

"Whatever dude. Just don't come moping to me when she chops your balls off again. The smell alone caused shrinkage."

"I told you, it's different this time." Logan spoke without a single hint of doubt in his voice. "I'm sure of it."

"Fine, but when it happens, cause we both know it will, I'll introduce you to my shrink. Lady's got a smokin' bod and is riding on the ripeness of a desperate housewife. I'm telling you. Ride-a-ble! And you know older women know things."

"Dude, you seeing a shrink? What? You have to pay a chick to spend time with you? Do all the hookers in Neptune have restraining orders on you now?"

"That's beside the point dude. My dad set it up. Said we gotta rebuild the water under the bridge or whatever, but I'm telling dude, shrink lady wants me."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

-Player Two wins-

"And that is something I like to call...ownage!"

"Argh! Never thought I would ever say this, but chick's got too much boob. Go again?"

Neptune (Dane's residence):

In the back of one of the many humungous homes of the 09'er district, two boys hopped over a fence and ran across the yard. One of the boys dropped to his knees when he reached a set of double doors that led into the living room and began working the lock. Flashes of their faces could be seen thanks to the mood lights that surrounded the pool.

"Hurry up!" The bald one of the two fidgeted nervously.

The other, the wavy red headed one, clenched his jaw and looked up with a raised brow at his partner. "You think you can do any better?"

"Move! Move!" The bald one stood back and gathered up as much strength as he could muster. With a deep inhale, he kicked the door…not open. "Aaaah ow!" The boy jumped around on one leg as pain radiated through the other.

"Get outta here." The red head whacked the bald one on the back of the head. "This is why Liam thinks we're idiots." He went back to working the lock, finally garnering success, "There, now come on." Together, they swung the doors open carelessly. As the bald one punched in the security code the red head flicked the lights on.

A loud gasp stemming from the two boys filled the large living room as the light revealed Sheriff Keith Mars and two deputies standing ready with guns drawn.

"Gentlemen…" Keith smirked as he lifted a picture of the family who resided in the house that the lads intended on robbing. "It's been awhile since I've visited the Danes, but wouldn't you know, the last time I checked they didn't have any sons." He turned the photo of a happy man and woman and their three daughters to face the boys.

Both boys instinctively tried to run back the way they came, but were blocked by Deputy D'Amato and Deputy Sacks who had the rear secured.

"Leo, Jerry, why don't you two introduce these young men to Miranda?" Keith shook his head as he holstered his weapon.

The deputies busted their handcuffs out and read the boys their rights in unison. "You have the right to remain silent…."

Brews on First (Bar & Café):

"You having fun?" Logan knotted his hands with Veronica's from across the table, their fingers intertwining as he rubbed light circles along her knuckles.

"How could I not? Not when I have a coffee cup the size of my head and a charming rendition of what I believe is Journey meticulously jamming its way into my skull."

"Hmm, this is Journey?" Logan peered over his shoulder at the poor sap clinging to the karaoke mic. "I don't remember Steve Perry being so…screechy."

Veronica grinned as she spoke theatrically. "My my, is the ever manly Logan Echolls admitting his knowledge of what is known as quintessential girl music? Someone alert the press!"

"I knew this girl once. She was obsessed with them." He let out a tiny snort as he acted as though he was recalling a long lost memory. "That is until she turned all butch on me. You might have known her. Cute, short, real pain in the ass." Logan waggled his eyebrows, obviously pleased with himself.

Veronica brought her shoulders together, her lips curling upwards enthusiastically. "She sounds wonderful."

The modest candle between them flickered, highlighting their flirtatious grins. "This thing..." Logan said, diverting his gaze. "It's not so bad is it?"

"No, not so bad." With a coy expression, Veronica lowered her voice to a roguish whisper. "Besides, something in my gut is telling me that I'll be having a lot more fun in a few."

"Oh?" Logan raised his brows suggestively. "Miss Mars, are you planning on having your way with me?"

Refusing to answer with anything more than a smirk, Veronica motioned towards the stage where the MC was preparing to call on the next red faced singer. "Next up on the list we have…uh…Logan!"

Veronica dropped her jaw in feign shock as Logan raised a questioning brow. "Go on hot stuff. You know, all the magazines agree that a way to a woman's heart is through song. I might be mistaken," tapping her chin, she squinted in faux ponder. "But I'm pretty sure the articles mentioned something about it increasing one's chances of getting lucky."

With a shrug, Logan downed the rest of his drink before capering his way on stage. His skip like maneuvers caused Veronica to stifle a laugh as she watched him discuss song choices with the MC.

"Um, yeah." Scratching at his temple, Logan blew into the microphone to test it. "When your ears start to bleed, feel free to blame the pretty blond in the back."

As the music kicked in, Veronica couldn't resist hollering a few cat calls, but once Logan opened his mouth she was quickly hushed by his voice.

"Could you whisper in my ear
The things you wanna feel
I'll give you anything
To feel it comin'"

At first, he was uncharacteristically shy, mumbling more than singing, but as soon as he noticed Veronica biting her lip in the way she always did when she was attempting to mask her delight, Logan easily slipped into his overly confident self and aimed for a more playfully animated performance.

"I wanna wake up where you are
I won't say anything at all
So why don't you slide"

Pop quiz: What do you do when your date is on stage singing a song that is directed entirely at you? A) Blush uncontrollably. B) Freak crazily on the inside. C) Refuse the need your feet possess to run away from anything serious. Or D) All of the above. Well Regis, I think I'm gonna have to go with D, final answer.

"Put your arms around me
What you feel is what you are
And what you are is beautiful"

Together, they moved as one, partaking in a distant yet intimate dance. With their eyes fixated on one another it was as though the space between them didn't exist and they were the only ones left in the room.

"I wanna wake up where you are
I won't say anything at all"

Logan's and Veronica's apartment (bedroom):

Clinging to the over sized shirt that engulfed her tiny frame, Veronica fell backwards onto the bed and stared aimlessly up at the ceiling. The song Logan sang played on repeat in her mind as she stumbled through her mess of thoughts.

Okay Veronica, let's recap. Logan, chaotic, intense, twists and stomach churning turns enabled Logan, just, for the lack of a better term, serenaded you. Alright, yes…it was hot. However, that exact same Logan has a history of doing things…and those…you openly disapprove of. Not so hot.

Idly, her fingertips drew patterns along her collar bone as she took to chewing her bottom lip. Memories of an undercover ATF agent being pummeled to the ground when she was in desperate need of a rescue, of an emotional embrace on the rooftop of the Neptune Grand when she was at her lowest and most frightened, of the relief she felt as she was scooped into shielding arms after being drugged for the second time in her short life flooded her in a wave of realization.

Of course, who says history is all bad? How many times has he risked his life defending you? Protecting you? Saving you? More times than he should have. And for what? A chance at that jaded heart of yours. So Veronica, are you finally ready to slide?

Without a second jumbled thought, she moved to open the bedroom door. Leaning in the door frame, she watched as Logan scrunched a pillow behind his head and closed his eyes. As he got comfortable, the tips of his hair were all she could see peeking over the armrest.

"Logan…" At the sound of her fractured voice, Logan pushed himself up into a sitting position, a groggy expression revealing itself. Simpering at the sight of him looking so innocent, Veronica released the breath she didn't realize she was holding. "…come to bed."

With the hint of a smile, Logan jumped over the back of the couch and rushed over to her, snaking his arms around her waist. Capturing her lips, he gingerly twirled them into their bedroom. At the footing of their bed, he paused as his eyes poured lovingly into her telling blue ones. Sweetly he smiled as he brushed strands of hair behind her ear and pulled her in closer. "Took you long enough."

Streets outside of Poseidon Tower:

A non-descript vehicle sat outside of Logan's and Veronica's apartment, making sure to keep to the shadows and away from the glaring street lamps. In the driver's side seat, a shadow of a man held his phone to his ear.

"You got her?"

"Yeah, I got her."

"Good. You know what to do."

To be continued…

A/N: Holy chapter length for reals this time Batman! Thank you again to all you awesomely wonderful people who have reviewed, favored, and/or alerted. You guys are fantastic, seriously! I just love reading what you all have to say. And another heartfelt thank you to all of you who have been sticking with this one. Three stories in three states can be a lot to follow for one fic!

Side notes: The song Logan sings is 'Slide' by the Goo Goo Dolls

Everything that takes place at Pitchfork is fabricated and loosely based on a personal experience at a similar media review company. Ryan Schreiner (named for Ryan Schreiber - founder of Pitchfork Media) is based on my supervisor during said personal experience.

The bridge portion of 'All These Things I've Done' is the "I got soul, but I'm not a soldier" part.

As always, thanks for spending time with this little tale of mine. =)