'Could we get married tomorrow?'
She shook her head violently, exasperated and hurt. How could he - seriously, he used to be way more thick-skinned than this. Had their interactions in the past month meant nothing to him?
She glared at the lasagna on the counter, an emblem of her blindness. How did she not see this coming? All she wanted was for them to be safe - alone and hitched and being who they're supposed to be. Was that so hard?
She forced her eyes off the baking tray, because this fixation was definitely unhealthy, and looked around the empty apartment. From the moment she flew away from Neptune, she had always longed to be alone. She was alone on the plane, alone at Quantico, and alone in every living space beyond that. She had enjoyed the liberty, the limited accountability. Being alone felt wonderful.
Until he came along.
She sniffed, holding back on the threatening tears. One wrong step had her sent into WITSEC duty. Then another stroke of fate had sent him to be her ward. She hated it for the first ten minutes - but who knew it would have grown into something so much bigger?
But he doesn't realize that.
She had known, of course, she always did. She understood that his insecurities were rooted deep in this strange relationship foundation. Who married their wards? What if she suddenly had another assignment? She knew where he was coming from.
Groaning, she drove a fist into the cushions.
She'd known - and she had been trying to fix it. But between knowing and fixing, her emotional fiancé had decided she didn't care.
What a loser.
She waved her thoughts away, guilt-ridden. He may have doubted her intentions for the transfer - but she had sure kept quiet about them too.
She threw back her head, now-shoulder-length hair spread all over the back of the sofa. Vanessa Mason, Vanessa Erickson - she didn't want to be any of that. Those aliases sucked.
She exhaled.
I want to be Veronica Mars.
She blinked, fast and hard.
But I wouldn't have minded adding 'Echolls' after that.
The realization that maybe that was the missing piece in their puzzle comforted her somewhat. She'd wait until he came back from his diva fit - and they'd talk it out, for real.
A loud thump emanated from her front door.
Logan?
She rolled off the couch and rushed towards their miniature foyer, turning the corner ungracefully. The doorknob rattled with an obvious effort to pry it open.
He must be really, really drunk.
She tucked away her annoyance for later - and she swung the door open, to a huge slab of muscle. The panic instantly surged from her stomach to her chest to her throat.
Nope, definitely not him.
She barely had time to duck the first punch.
The menacing trees and their bare, dark branches interlaced into a wooden web in the hardly-lit park. He leaned back against his chosen tree trunk, hoping his light brown jacket magically morphed into a darker hue.
He waited. He listened.
Maybe being raised a celebrity child wasn't all bad. He smirked, still pulling close against the bark. Paparazzi-dodging tricks had come in handy more than once in his life.
Unfortunately.
He kept his sigh quiet. Sure, he'd played his most immature card and threw himself out without talking things through.
Talking - the best and worst thing in a long-term relationship.
He breathed in, slowly, before exhaling just as coolly. He didn't mean the marrying tomorrow part - that was said in anger. He wouldn't mind it - no, of course not.
But I shouldn't have thrown it in her face either.
He closed his eyes for a couple of seconds. He thought he'd come a long way - but real life demanded that he go even farther than that.
If I want any chance of making this work.
And he did - truly, wholeheartedly did. He'd gone almost a decade without Veronica in his life, and he would very much not want to repeat that.
He smirked again. That's why he proposed, wasn't it? It was the most permanent way they could be bound to each other, outside of divorce, anyway. But he'd never ask for a pre-nup; he was grateful she didn't either.
The telltale footsteps of a heavyset man drew closer.
He inhaled.
This is it.
Sure, he'd charged out of the house like a hormonal teenager. That was his fault.
And I'd very much like a chance to make up for it.
If he didn't have the chance to do that - it would be this guy's fault. And he absolutely couldn't let it happen.
His left hand gripped his taser tighter. His right hand, bristles notwithstanding, curled around the rough tree branch he'd pick up just now. Between them, Veronica had convinced him to keep their only gun in the bedroom - only for domestic defense. It was a good idea that he couldn't quite be thankful for right now.
The footsteps stopped. The sound of a pebble being crushed echoed in the darkness.
"I lost him," the guy mumbled into what must be his phone. The Californian accent sounded achingly familiar and oddly misplaced all at once.
Liam - Liam Fitzpatrick.
He breathed in. Who else was in on this with him? What were they after?
Revenge, of course, he grinned. Why would it be anything else?
"I'll look around some more," Liam was saying.
Logan fought to pace his breathing as the footsteps recommenced, this time growing nearer and nearer to his hiding place.
Just a little more.
His stalker paused right beside his tree. He felt very much like being sniffed out by a dog.
Maybe they will once I'm dead.
He tried not to let the thought bother him.
"Hey," Liam was saying into his phone again, "I don't think - "
He brought the tree branch down right behind the neck, forcing his bulky hunter to roll to the ground. His taser, in all its sparkling glory, touched flesh within seconds.
Three horrendous groans and thwarted punches later - the man lay limply at his feet. He panted, ill-acquainted with violence for the last five years.
But this is Liam Fitzpatrick.
That was someone completely worth coming out of retirement for.
Carefully, Logan kicked the moaning figure till it faced down in the shallow snow. He lowered his right knee against Liam's back, his hands balancing the branch tightly across his upper shoulders. The man would stay still for a while.
"What do you want, Liam?" He cried harshly. The man kept moaning. "You guys hurt Trina. You can't expect me to have done anything less."
The pile of muscle, subdued by electricity, tried to struggle out beneath him. Logan pressed down harder.
"How did you find me?" He continued mustering the Aaron Echolls action hero genes. It's possible. "What do you want?"
With a heavy, deliberate groan, Liam turned his head around to face him.
No.
The aggressor grinned.
No - this is wrong. No.
"Ya want Liam, kid?" The man growled, half-smirking. "Ask your girlfriend. You ain't the one we after."
Right, 'cause this isn't Liam. It's all 200 pounds of his cousin Danny. Alarm threaded his every nerve, and he pressed down harder.
Danny groaned again. "Look - you got nothin' to offer us, kid. Sierra's kept an eye on you plenty."
Sierra - right.
"It's just money we want, alright?" Danny's words sounded strained, his lungs against the ground and all. "You get the bucks from the bank - and we're good."
"It's not your money." Logan found his tongue again, voice coarse and uncertain. "Why should we give you anything?"
"Ah, she don't tell you, did she?" Danny sounded borderline maniacal. "But it is our money - and we're gonna get our dues."
It took every last bit of her Quantico training to keep her from passing out.
Logan's coming. He's coming.
She didn't need him to save her. No - that was her job.
But a call to the police would be really helpful now.
The thin winter night's air pierced her lungs with every breath. She was certain that another ten minutes like this, and her bare fingers - tied so firmly behind her back - would show first signs of frostbite. Her hair dangled beside her face in messy, upturned locks.
She scoffed. The knots around her wrists and the annoying cold weren't even the real problem.
The sidewalk she was facing, twenty stories down - that was the problem.
Her body tensed as the ropes on her feet dropped another yard, dipping her head-first towards the concrete.
Logan - please, come back.
She could feel her chest tightening, lungs giving up. Her muscles ached from the struggle; the scratch on her face was still bleeding, its trail slowly dripping down her cheek and threatening to dip into her eye. She'd never been a fan of heights - especially not upside down.
The rope dropped again. Her head spun.
"Liam, I said I didn't know!" She shouted, praying the heavens had assigned them at least one set of busybody neighbors. "Pull me up! I'll help you find it!"
"I ain't lettin' go of such a treasure, now, am I?" He snarled, voice echoing down from the balcony.
The bile in her throat was only half-caused by her inverted position.
"Where is it?" Liam barked.
Please, neighbors, please.
She'd put up as good of a fight as she could. The gun, the kicks, the bites, the punches - she'd put to use every martial skill in her arsenal.
But it wasn't enough.
She blinked rapidly, tears and blood dripping together. Liam was a methhead - with a dozen inches and over a hundred pounds over her. Once he'd punch the gun out of her hand - what could she really have done?
"Where is it!" Liam was shouting again. He dipped her another two feet.
Logan, now, please.
She inhaled, lips freezing. Her jeans barely kept out the cold. Her T-shirt, liked it or not, was bunched up against her chest, offering a very exposed midriff to the winter elements. The grey sidewalk - hundreds of feet away - looked liked the world's least comfortable way to die.
"Where is it!"
"I don't know!" She screamed. "I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Liar!"
Another yard - she was fast losing her ability to breathe properly.
"Where is the painting!" Liam bellowed.
I'd tell you if I knew.
"I don't know!" She punctuated every word, lungs freezing and bursting.
"The money! Where did you get the money? Where is it!" Liam responded in kind.
"It's not your money!"
"Sierra - " Liam paused, probably correcting himself. "The painting - where is it?"
"Not here!"
He let loose another five feet of rope. The increasingly wide arc she's swinging would displace anyone less than a seasoned agent.
And the FBI called me incompetent.
"Where!"
"For the last time, Liam - I don't know!"
"Well, too bad." The pause between his next words led up to the most menacing sentence she'd ever heard. "Then say hello to concrete, missie."
"And where are you exactly?" the male voice, deep and groggy, asked over the line.
"The condo's on the twenty-second floor - sir." Logan knew whom he was talking to, of course, but this was just a rather intense moment to make a new friend. "Thank you for your willingness, sir."
"Anything for Veronica."
Amen to that.
He ran on, urgently weaving through the trees and streets. The local police may have Danny under control, but Liam -
Ugh, Liam.
He'd called Clark, of course, that was just protocol. But even if Clark didn't have dubious loyalty - he definitely had dubious competence. So, in other words, he needed back-up.
"Look, uhm, Logan, right?" The voice started again in his ear.
"Yes, sir?" He was now braced against the front doors, planning an entrance that didn't involve Sierra informing Liam.
"I'm on my way. Stay until I get there. I'll meet you in the lobby."
"But, sir - "
"No. If Liam Fitzpatrick is anywhere near as dangerous as I've heard from Veronica, then you cannot tackle him alone."
"Sir, Veronica - "
"Will be safe soon, alright? Just wait, son. I'll be there in five."
Logan panted, anxious, in the dark. The man was older, wiser - but he wasn't engaged to Veronica Mars. Should he wait?
"Logan?"
"Yes, sir. I'll - wait - Lieutenant."
"Good - and Stanley will do."
"I don't know!" She felt embarrassed for screaming at all - but desperate times, desperate measures.
"Liar!"
"No!" She tried to kick her way into someone else's balcony, as Liam lowered her incrementally. The gesture had her swinging in a much more forceful, dizzying motion, with little accuracy.
"We saw the money - you sold the painting. Where is it!"
Wow, full sentences from Liam.
She saved the eye roll before shouting back at the top of her lungs, desperate to wake her neighbors, "If I knew it, then I'd already be tell - "
She trailed off at something at the corner of her eye. She rotated herself as far as she could, eyes fixed on the block corner. The car looked - familiar, comfortingly familiar.
Chilled and imbalanced, her brain clogged up. It was getting harder and harder to think. That car, it belonged - it belonged -
Oh.
"For the last time, where is the money!" Liam barked from the top.
This is it - window of salvation.
She scoffed loudly. "Fine! Let me up and I'll tell you."
"Here. This is it." The door to their unit, a sight of comfort these past months, now felt like a portal to hell. He didn't realize he was huffing until Stanley's hand found his shoulder. He turned a little. "Sir."
"Remember - don't give yourself away. Liam may be armed."
Logan nodded between pants.
"You know what to do." The man, Veronica's surrogate father figure, had a calming, upright presence about him. Who said senior officers in government always had to be shady?
"Yes, sir."
The older man smiled, soft wrinkles and brown-stubbled skin. "I'm not your commanding officer, Logan."
"Sorry, sir." The words came naturally. Despite the civilian clothes, Stanley was - well, commanding.
"Alright, now open that door."
The embarrassment that crept on Logan's face was only half of what he felt. He fidgeted, hands tugging his shirt. "I - I don't have the keys, sir."
"Not to your own house?"
"We - we had a fight." It pained him to admit it. "I was out because I was angry. I - I shouldn't have. It was silly and childish and - "
Logan stopped, breath heavy. Stanley looked on.
It took only a few seconds before he continued. "I'll never forgive myself, sir, if anything happened to her while I was away."
Stanley's hand gripped Logan's shoulder again. "Well, let's get this done and make sure you get the chance to say sorry."
"Yes, sir."
The door, masterfully kicked, slammed hard against the wall. Logan curled instantly down into a crouch. Stanley, gun braced for action, stepped inside.
"Liam Fitzpatrick." The kind, fatherly tones had been completely replaced by aggressive force. "I need to have a word."
Hidden behind the corner in the foyer, Logan had only his ears to rely on. There were footsteps, sneers, and a high-pitched cry.
Please, Veronica - hang on.
He didn't know what Liam had done with her - but hearing her alive had at least been step one in assurance.
Now on to step two.
"Who are you? The sheriff 'round here?" Liam's sneer never changed. "Lookie here - I got your little angel wrapped around my apron strings. You better put that gun away, sir."
When Stanley didn't reply, Logan couldn't resist a peek. Stanley was still standing, still toting that gun. Liam, on the other hand, was stationed by the balcony. Around his waist, layers of ropes wrapped him like a child cheating at tug-of-war. The other end of the rope was pulled taut against the balcony railing. Logan inhaled.
"Pull her up and we'll talk," Stanley spoke firmly.
"No can do," Liam growled before switching to a maniacal grin. "She's my lifeline now, isn't she?"
"Whatever you want, we can talk it through," the lieutenant went on, "but let's get her back in here first."
"No," defied Liam.
"Yes," argued Stanley.
A small part of Logan felt proud - knowing that this was the new father to Veronica after Keith passed away. She always did choose wisely.
"What are you after?" Back in his hiding place, Logan could hear Stanley switching gears. "I'm sure we can help you."
"This little bitch has a family treasure - an heirloom, sort of. She was about to tell me where she'd been hiding it when you and all your muscle barged in."
Heirloom? A sickening spiral of guilt started in Logan's gut at the realization that all this time, it's been her they're after. He was supposed to be the one protecting her.
"Maybe this muscle can help, Liam," Stanley was still brokering. "My name is Stan. Let me help."
"You never!" Liam scowled back, unleashing a large segment of rope in the process. A scream echoed from beyond the balcony.
Veronica!
It took every last bit of restraint in him to stay put. He eyed Stanley. The officer eyed him back.
The unspoken agreement passed between him. Stanley started nodding, and Logan started counting.
One - two - three!
Stanley barreled forward the same moment Logan sprinted for the balcony. Liam, as expected, let go of the ropes once all 6'2" of the FBI officer dove towards him. The two older men tumbled into a wrestle just when Logan hit the balcony floor.
The rope was dropping, fast. The coils Liam had just released on to the ground unraveled like fast-selling merchandise, disappearing one after the other. Lunging forward, Logan grabbed the rope at its highest point before the railing, tugging with all his might. Then slowly, far too slowly, the loose feeling gave way to a tight, taut grip.
He panted, hands sweaty. Bracing his feet where balcony wall met balcony floor, he pulled at the rope with all his might. It inched upward.
In the background, he could hear brute strength battling skilled training. Stanley was as good as they came.
Focusing his strength, Logan pulled on - and on. He hadn't heard anything since Liam let go of the rope, and he was in all honesty extremely nervous about what he'd find at the end of this pulley action.
But turned out, he didn't have to reach the end.
"Oomph!"
"Veronica!" He picked her up, taken aback by the sudden tumble she'd taken into safe boundaries.
She looked positively freezing - but otherwise completely fine. He stripped off his jacket immediately, wrapping it around her. His hands found her wrists, checking for scars.
"I untangled those," she explained, panting.
He looked up, a million emotions - relief, guilt, admiration, pain, love, passion - swirled through his veins. His own voice sounded small. "Where else?"
She pointed to her feet, the ropes still tied firmly around her ankles.
"You have any idea how hard that flip was?" Her voice was gaining its natural lilt. The adrenaline had taken away all the angst and replaced it with triumph. "Not to mention climbing up on only upper-body strength."
Behind him, he could hear Liam protesting with loud, angry groans. Stanley had it completely under control.
"I have no idea." It was all he could say before he pulled her into his arms, crushed against his torso.
A/N: SO MUCH thanks to irma66 for being such a dedicated friend and beta. And everyone's reviews and messages are so kind! Thank you! You've inspired me to finish this story a lot sooner than I otherwise would have :) Oh, if you watch 'Scorpion,' then Cabe Gallo is my dream Lieutenant Stanley :) I hope you liked this chapter! It was quite a challenge to write.
