A/N: I know this chapter is super short but it's also very painful. I tried to dream up ways to lengthen it but couldn't bring myself to extend their torture.

Journal Entry #8

I can't do this. It's not working to pretend it's not happening anymore. In 48 hours this bliss will end and then begins the heartache. I try not to think about it but I tear up whenever I do. I'm taking more showers than ever to try to hide it, but I don't think I'm fooling anyone. Not even me. I can't help it. I just got him back. I can't take that I'm losing him again. How the hell did I stay away for so long?

He's noticed the change in me the last day or two as our time together comes closer to its end. Then again, of course he has. He's always been incredibly perceptive. Especially when it comes to me.

The best part is, he's not trying to cajole or console me. He just stays quiet and holds me, stroking my hair, holding my hand, all while my eyes sting and a lump forms in my throat. I, of course, try to quip it all away. He'll answer in kind but we both know that I'm not fooling anyone.

I need to go see my dad but I'm avoiding it. There's too much that we need to talk about and I'm too overwhelmed as it is. The last thing that he needs right now is to see his little girl break down.

Little girl. I'm definitely not that anymore. Grown woman, feisty bitch, now apparently a newly formed romantic sap. What's wrong with you, Veronica Mars? You don't let boys get to you like this. Of course, Logan is no longer a boy. He is most definitely a man. A man that, surprisingly, has become amazingly solid. He's steady and courageous, still quick, still witty, still more than capable of making my heart ache with joy and break in his absence.

Again, I don't think I can do this.

"What are you doing?" Logan asked her sleepily, propping himself up on an elbow to watch her.

She looked affectionately into his hazy, heavy-lidded gaze and smirked. "I'm waxing poetic."

"About little old me?" he guessed with a slow and easy grin but even as he said it, his focus sharpened. She looked like she was holding back tears.

"No," she lied, "My dear old dad."

He raised a knowing brow and called her on it, saying matter-of-factly with no malice, "Liar."

She bit her lower lip and set the journal aside, pulling her knees up and hugging them to her. "You know me too well," she replied dryly.

Sitting up, he positioned himself next to her, lovingly drawing her into his arms. He rested her head on his shoulder and kissed it, giving her a squeeze before he murmured into her ear, "Always have."

A shuddering breath went through her. She closed her eyes tightly, fighting back the tears, her jaw clenched in determination. When she pulled back and deeply inhaled, her eyes were still watery but she knew she had to tell him. "I don't want to lose you from my life. I just got you back."

He knew as he watched her that she was about to break. He leaned in and kissed her forehead but otherwise didn't touch her. His voice was full of emotion when he spoke but he knew this was something that she needed to hear. "I feel the same."

They'd made love to each other what seemed like a million times over the course of the past twelve days. But something between them this time was different and it was't just that it was so bittersweet. There was a commitment, an unshakable trust. An understanding that this time, no matter what happened, they were bound and determined to make their relationship last.

They clung to one another as if each was wearing the only life preserver in a rapidly sinking ship, moving together as one, their mouths fused together like their bodies. It was a slow progression but gradually the strokes became harder and faster, more insistent, more demanding, less precise, less controlled until they'd driven each other to the edge. With a mutual, gut-wrenching cry, they came.

They stayed wrapped up in each other, unwilling to let go, unwilling for their time together to end. He stayed inside her. She refused to let him leave. She nipped at his lips, traced his tongue with hers, and when she felt him begin to twitch between her legs, she started their whole process again.

We set a new record today. Now our number to beat is eight. Not that it's a contest, but still...who would have thought it possible to have sex eight times in 24 hours? Of course, we're no longer trying to make up for time lost so much as for time we know we're going to miss. Words just aren't enough anymore. I don't know how else to communicate everything that I feel. So sex has become my voice. Not that Logan minds. It's like our own private language. Mixed with looks and eye rolls, furrowed brows and wrinkled foreheads.

He reassures me that all will be well, but how can it be when he'll be gone? Gone and in danger. The thought of it makes my heart catch in my throat. Is this how he always feels? When he finds out how I could have gotten hurt on one of my cases? It must me. Maybe this is payback. It seems like all I can think is, 'Logan, please don't die.'

Logan kissed Veronica's shoulder. He'd seen what she was writing. There was nothing he could say. The navy was the life he'd chosen. He couldn't regret it. It had been too good for him. He couldn't reassure her or do anything to change the way she felt. So instead, he just held her, and made love to her some more.