I'm really hoping the next chapter will be a breeze, so I can feed you lovely DoVes.

Apologies for any mistakes.

Lamb was back where he was before dinner yesterday: staring at his reflection in the mirror. He had taken his medication last night and this morning. His legs were stronger. He had a hearty breakfast that didn't consist of poorly reheated leftovers from the night before. He was feeling healthier in mind and body. Today was a better day.

He was excited to come back to the Mars apartment. He had to spend part of the afternoon with Veronica. More so, she hadto spend the afternoon with him. He was looking forward to it. He had the chance to prove himself a changed man. The only thing he lacked was a plan. Though, he was always good at bullshitting his way around things.

He offered his reflection a poor sap's smile.

He adjusted the slacks around his waist. They didn't fit like they used to. They were loose, but not uncomfortable. He ran a hand down his stomach, reminiscing the abs he kept since college. It would take a lot of work to get back into his old shape. He grabbed the basic shirt he flung on his bed and carefully slipped it over his head. He was tense every time he pulled on a shirt. Ergo, it was fairly silly to wear a beanie, but it was old, large, and limp around his skull. It hid his dip and that's what counted. He wanted this day to be bearable for the both of them. His... accident... kept hidden would help.

What would make the day better would be her wanting to stick around. He wasn't going to hold his breath. He understood Veronica enough to know she didn't like being forced to do something. Trouble was already brewing from their reentry in each others lives. He expected her attitude and cold shoulder when he got there.

And that's exactly what he got.

He knocked and stood awkwardly outside the apartment door. He looked around, but couldn't find the air conditioner. His brain failed him as to where it was years before. He hardly remembered the interior. He wasn't sure if it was from not being inside in years or the damage done to his brain. He didn't entertain the panic inducing thoughts. He shushed them with the possibility that they redecorated. It's been years. Surely, the wanted a change.

His fingers pinched the seams running down the outside of his legs as he waited. He tapped his foot. He chewed his bottom lip. He looked at his watch-less wrist. He raised his fist to the door, knuckles ready to wrap when he heard movement from inside. If there was a watch on his wrist he'd know he was impatient. But she was taking so long! He lowered his hand and tried not to look too stiff or too comfortable. Or too eager.

He looked down at his pockets, feeling them out for his pills. She opened the door, catching him off guard. He must have looked like a deer in the headlights.

She appeared thoughtful, but the tweak of her lips and glint in her blue pools gave her away. "I was starting to wonder if you could find the place. Look at that. You remembered."

That was the last thing he wanted to hear. Especially in such a dry, unamused tone coming from a bored, put-out face. Really, it's what he expected. Why is he surprised? He did his best not to snark back. He straightened his posture. Looked her in the eye and said, "where's your air conditioning?" Because if she was going to be like that, he might as well get down to business and leave. No matter how bad he longed for her company.

It was going to be a lot harder than he thought.

Veronica covered her surprise well. She stepped to the side and gestured him in. He was cautious stepping over the threshold. He was back in the Mars apartment. Blue paint and tiles in the kitchen to his right. A faint blue, nearly white, almost gray living room walls on his left. The air conditioner was behind the couch. It was so close to causing water damage and the thing wasn't even working.

He had a fear that if he left to get something better for the machine to sit on that she wouldn't let him come back inside. He'll have to talk to Keith and come back tomorrow.

He smiled secretively. It was a brilliant plan.

"Your dad said he had tools for me to use."

"They're in the hall closet. I'll get them for you." She was snippy with her tone and the way she turned sharply on her heel.

It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop on the carpet. Was it really that hot today or was that the unsettled nerves flaring through his body? He wanted to say something or whistle, but he didn't dare. She didn't either. He took the time to examine the unplugged system to see what tools he needed. Get it over with and get out.

He kneeled on the couch and squinted at the object. His thumb caressed the head of a flathead screw. He rubbed his thumb and pointer finger together, noting the oily residue. Shredding shouldn't be a problem. That was good.

Veronica returned in a huff at his position. His right shoe was on the couch. He had the decency to grimace an apology and expertly dangle his feet off the furniture. She set the toolbox on the table and unlatched the top. The tools were neatly organized and unlike his messy ones at home. He could tell Keith didn't use them often. He wasn't really that kind of guy, not that he couldn't be.

"Hand me that flathead, would ya?"

"Is this a test? Are you testing a young girls wits in all things man? I took shop class, you know." He remembered. He helped her with an assignment. A simple Freshmen birdhouse. He doesn't know how he found the time, because he was fairly new to being a deputy then. He worked weird hours and was on call for a good portion of it.

"I'm aware of your knowledge of tools. I've arrested a couple of them." He cracked. He couldn't help it. His old self handled Veronica. His resurrected self walked on eggshells.

She practically jabbed the screwdriver in his open hand. He rubbed at his temple, careful of the point of the tool, a flurry of memories overpowered him for a moment. He eased them away and made quick work of dismantling the air conditioner.

There was a lot of dust buildup that created a damp residue. The fan inside didn't know it was a fan anymore. It didn't want to spin with his coaxing guidance. There was too much sludge to do anything.

"Do you have a washcloth you hate or a roll of paper towels?"

"You'll find the roll of paper towels in the kitchen." Her arrogance flashed through along with her pearly whites. She picked up a photography magazine and plopped down on the chair.

Another memory hit. One with her comfortably sitting in his office and being framed for making fake IDs. He shook his head and went to the kitchen. He was thirsty anyway and as if he would ask her to get it for him.

Veronica didn't know what to think, but she knew she was mad. She was tempted to take a trip to Vinnie's and hash it out with him. Afterall, he was the one who told her Lamb was alive. He told her like it was something she needed to know, somehow knowing it would set her off. She kind of felt like everyone was throwing her a surprise birthday party and she knew it, but didn't know the theme. Like the people she surrounded herself with had an inside joke and she was on the outside. She's been there before. She hated it, because she was the joke. She was the one they were whispering and laughing at. She overcame it, but now with what happened with the FBI, she couldn't even make the attempt to turn their joke around and laugh at herself. She could only do her best to harden herself against any onset attacks.

Being mad was a hell of a lot better than being soft and vulnerable.

He came back in with a roll of paper towels and a glass of water. He didn't want to, but he figured he could fix it faster if he ignored Veronica. So, when he entered the room, he cast his eyes to the floor instead of meeting her gaze. He didn't chance a glance at her when he tore a sheet from the roll and delved into the wet grime lurking inside the machine. He didn't open his mouth to talk to her, but occupied it with his tongue of concentration and breaks for water. The ball was in her court. If she wanted to play snooty prom queen, she could wear the damn crown.

She took the bait.

"Geez. That's a lot of... yuck." She shuddered. "Do you think it'll work now?"

"It should. No promises. The AC at the station used to clog like this all the time. I used to fix stuff in the sheriff's department back when I was deputy. It was either paperwork and taking calls or doing something worthwhile."

"That was nice of you." She paused. "To not take calls from people who needed help." The words tasted wrong in her mouth. She was kicking him when he was already down. He was a complete asshole in those days, sure. However, he did do his job for the most part, as far as she could remember.

"That's not what I meant. I answered when someone called, but I wasn't going to sit around and do nothing. It was boring. Especially when I was alone," he explained pointedly.

Veronica's stomach flipped. She recalled the nights she stayed there with him, waiting for her dad to take her home. Her homework set aside while they ironically played Clue. It was funny, in a bitter sense, because he was terrible at the game. She forced her tongue against the roof of her mouth to keep from saying anything. She didn't want to insult him again. Though, what she really wanted to say was an apology. Backhanded, but still.

"I expressed to Keith that I was feeling a little… helpless." He sighed. "So, he offered to give me something to do. It sure as hell beats sitting at home staring at the TV."

She wanted to crudely mention Cops. She literally bit her tongue from doing so. What was with her mouth today?

Lamb tried not to stare at her. He sensed the situation was awkward. The tension was raised, and unfortunately not in the good way. He twirled the screwdriver righty-tighty, screwing the air conditioner in place. He plugged it in, turned it on, and adjusted the temperature. The blast of cool air was refreshing and drowned out the lack of sound. The temp change visibly relaxed them.

He set the screwdriver back in the toolbox and wiped his hands on his t-shirt. He brought the glass of water to his lips and eyed her over the glass as he drank. She was watching him with pursed lips and wandering eyes. He set the glass back on the table and exhaled. Might as well get it over with.

"Just say it, Veronica."

She frowned, but softened her balmed lips. "What are you talking about?"

"Whatever is running through your mind. Say it."

"I don't have…" She licked her lips and tucked her hair behind her ear. "You know what? I will say it, because you being here, in my house, is driving me crazy. It's uncomfortable. It's stifling, and I thought it was bad in here before you fixed that thing, but you fixing it made it worse. I feel like I'm crawling out of my skin. You can't waltz into my life like nothing is wrong." She shoved a finger at his chest. "Like you did no wrong."

He rolled his eyes. He couldn't help it. "You're one to talk."

She pointed accusingly at him. "That right there! That is why you are insane. You can't take the blame for anything. You're arrogant. You think the law doesn't apply to you." She laughed, but nothing was funny; he really did drive her mad. "I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead and out of my life for good."

He didn't know who was more taken back by that confession, him or her.

Keith couldn't have picked a better time to walk through the door. "Oh great! You fixed it!"

Don shifted his gaze from the man shutting the door to the young woman who turned away.

"I'm going to Logan's," she announced, shuffling out of the apartment.

"Sheriff Lamb... Lamb has been at my house all day."

Duncan pulled a face. "Sheriff Lamb? I heard he died."

"That's what I thought too. He was in a coma. He was released awhile ago and now he's been around. He's everywhere I turn."

Logan chimed in, "I thought you liked it when he stalked you."

She glared at him and for a moment it was like nothing had changed. She half expected Lilly to walk out from behind him and throw an arm around his waist. She would have something to say of course. Knowing her it would have been vulgar too. She was always making comments about the times she spent with Lamb. That inside joke. That surprise birthday party with a mystery theme.

Veronica could feel her cheeks pink and she squeezed her eyes shut to stop the thoughts in her head. It was a ridiculous notion, but it worked.

Duncan took a swig of his water and shook his head. "I hate that guy. I think he hates me too. Since before he smuggled me into Mexico."

"What?"

"Why?"

"My family for one. Lilly's murder." He cast his eyes over to Logan and back to Veronica. "You."

"Why would Lamb hate you because of me?"

"Oh come on, Veronica!" They looked over at Logan. "The dude hated anybody you were with. I don't even want to think about that deputy you were seeing. Poor guy probably had it worst - and Duncan and I have been in his interrogation room! That's saying something."

"It says you've cleaned up your act." She laughed disbelievingly at what she was hearing. "I better go. I'm moving into the ol' office tomorrow." And also this conversation is making me uncomfortable with its ridiculousness. She entwined her fingers and cracked her knuckles before standing up.

"I'll come by and help."

She stared gapingly at Logan. "You really don't have to do that."

"I'll be out anyway. Dick wants to hang out and I can't exactly bring him here." They both looked at Duncan who was amused watching their interaction.

Veronica narrowed her eyes at his weird reaction. She stopped at the thought of people growing up and moving on. This wasn't some weird love triangle she was caught between. She was hanging out with two friends. Two male friends. Two male friends she was romantically involved with. More than once.

What would Lilly say?

Don didn't know what to do. Veronica wasn't willing to try to make it work. She couldn't let go of the past. It was reasonable. She's been through a lot. The trouble had his hands in it more than once. He wasn't trying to turn the other cheeks. He needed her to get that. He wanted them to talk it out, but at the right time. It's not like he could go up to her and ramble on about her dead best friend, rape, the law, and other annoying girls her age.

Her age. Jesus. What was he thinking?

He was discouraged and it showed. Keith placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "She's a fireball." Don was about to agree when Keith continued, "it's for a reason."