Author's Note: This fic is dedicated to LV_4_EVA because it's not fair, and he should have lived. All the love and happy fics to you, my dear.

Reminder that all my S4 fix its are independent of each other- so if they make up and get engaged in an earlier fix it, this starts back where the canon show had them.

For this episode, I liked the existing scenes, but none of them had the emotional depth that would have truly satisfied me. So I extended and changed a lot of the canon scenes for this one, including adding a few scenes of my own that I felt would have left fewer loose ends and frankly, left Veronica's karma in better shape. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!

This fic will have four chapters, and the honeymoon chapters will be posted separately, as a story called "Never Enough Honeymoon."

Chapter 1: HOMECOMING

[Voicemail to Veronica Mars]

"Hey, it's Logan. It's my last chance to call before I have to leave my phone in my locker on base. I know it's late and your phone's probably off, but I just had a thought… *low chuckle*

You know what's weird about this whole proposal thing? You haven't accused me of being the bomber yet. I hate sex offenders probably even more than you do, and spring breakers, and I have a knowledge of explosives, but yet not a wisp of suspicion in sight. *sound of a smirk in his voice * It just might be that you're starting to trust me, Veronica Mars…

Do you suspect Nicole yet, by the way? Because I know how much you want a new friend who's not so much of a baby-loving yuppie like Wallace, or traveling for work all the time like Mac, and she really is just your style of badass. Anyway, spoiler alert, Nicole's not the bomber. It's probably okay to think she's cool. *noises and an intercom in the background * Hey, they're calling my flight. I love you. Stay safe."

#

Veronica dragged herself through the door, feeling every bruise and that familiar post-adrenaline sag that always left her throat feeling so empty. Or maybe that was just the Logan-gone feeling. It was always the worst when she first came through the door. It's why he'd insisted on getting her a dog after his first deployment, even though he knew nothing about caring for pets and at first, had held the little puppy like it was a glass grenade. She'd never told him how much she hated coming home to an empty house, but somehow he'd known.

Now, she sank to her knees, rubbing her hands across the softest fur on Pony's ears. "Hey, Pony," she breathed, trying not to think about the sound of her gun clicking on an empty chamber. Trying not to think about where Logan was, and if anyone was shooting at him. He was so prepared, her GI Joe + James Bond of a boyfriend. He'd have extra clips of ammo for sure, and more of them than she'd had.

She'd give anything, anything for him to be here right now. Even if he was telling her to go to therapy or asking her to take some time off, or even asking her that worst, most terrible question.

What would you do if I wasn't here, if your dad wasn't here?

Well, she was about to find out, wasn't she? Because her dad was retiring and Logan…Logan was probably halfway across the globe right now.

"Hey…" his gentle voice seemed to come straight out of her fantasies, and when she looked up, Logan was leaning a muscular shoulder against the hallway wall, a proud light in his smile that she'd never seen before he joined the Navy. "Notice any international hot spots back down to room temperature? That was me." He hooked a thumb at his chest and she remembered the radio on the way back.

A near crisis in Mogadishu, something about how it could have gone so badly but hadn't.

"You're home." The words rushed out of her, like all the relief couldn't fit inside her body at once.

Her shoulders sagged and when she rose to run to him, she could suddenly feel every bruise and sore muscle and she could barely stagger the few steps across the room. He caught her elbows and pulled her into a hug, and she found that secret nook beneath the curve of his jaw where she could hide her face and just breathe him in.

"You okay?" He pulled back, his eyes sweeping her face. She felt wrecked and she had no idea how she must look.

"I am now," she breathed.

Jesus, how had she gotten so lucky as to even get to come back home again? And now he was here, right here like she'd wished him into existence. Warm and clean and his hands so big and steady on her back. She kissed him, her hands coming up to clutch the back of his head.

Everything felt so sharp and clear: the corded muscles in his neck, the soft bristles of his short hair, his lips half-smiling against hers and the heat of his tongue sweeping into her mouth. She kissed him again, deeper, and the more she wanted, the better it got until her whole face was wrenched with how much she could feel.

Sometimes, she survived on quick little kisses and hard fast fucks for weeks at a time. It was easier, sometimes, than the way Logan could crack her chest wide open when he made slow, powerful love to her. Those days, it took her hours to put herself back together. It always did, when she let herself really be with him like this. But right now, it was like his presence was welling up like a spring and she needed to drink and drink and drink. She needed—

Veronica pulled back. "You still have that ring?"

It was the only thing that felt like enough. The only thing big enough, permanent enough. It wasn't enough to touch him or even hold him. She needed to keep him. To make him feel as safe as she'd felt when she heard his voice and looked up.

His face changed, the corner of his lips pulling up in a curl of pure joy before hesitation swept in.

"I do," he said softly, questioningly. Like he was afraid of what she might say next.

And her heart clutched, to hear him say that to her, his eyes all soft and dark and only seeing her. He meant it, even now, even answering a completely different question. She could feel his vow to her like it already existed.

"Look at that," she teased, because otherwise she was going to cry. "You already know your lines." But she almost couldn't pull off the lightness because she couldn't stop staring at him. Seeing his hard jaw and lean face as if for the first time. Like she'd only been able to see him lately from a distance somehow, and now she finally had the real thing.

He picked her up and her legs went around his waist automatically. "Why now?"

"I had a moment of clarity." It was all she needed to say, because there had never been anything else standing in her way but her own confusion. It was never that she didn't love him enough. She clutched the back of his head, his neck, his back…like she needed to feel each part of him again—her Logan—to believe she was really getting a chance to keep him.

She wrapped herself up tight all around him and his arms came around her back, holding her just as hard as he carried them down the hall and into the bedroom.

But it hurt, feeling this good, the guilt of that awful feeling when she woke up this morning still dogging her. She couldn't stand it, the way his face would have looked if the dream had been true and she'd had to tell him she'd cheated on him.

Commitment, to her, hadn't ever been something she thought much about. Logan was all she wanted: most of the men she met were disgusting pigs, so she'd never had to really consider what she'd do if she started to want another man.

It was so sharp, so vivid, the depth of this new realization, that she couldn't help but want to explain it to him. She wondered if he'd ever felt that, when he was gone somewhere in the world, beautiful women probably throwing themselves at him like they always did.

He laid her down on the bed, brushing soft kisses over her cheekbones and temple in between long, intimate kisses to her mouth. Their tongues sweeping deep together with no preamble needed because they knew each other so well.

"Logan, I want to tell you something."

He twitched and she saw the nervousness in his eyes when he pulled back a little, replaced a second later with steadiness. Therapy Logan, nothing shakes him. "Okay," he agreed, like however horrible it was, it was already forgiven.

She clutched his neck, kissed him hard again just to feel his lips against hers. She wanted, for the first time in a long time, for him to know her secrets.

"While you were gone, Leo and I…"

She could feel it when he stopped breathing, his chest going still. He rolled off her and onto his back, but he didn't try and stop her.

Veronica moved onto her side, propping her head up so she could see him. She laid her hand over his chest, where his heart was pumping away even though his lungs had gone still. "Shhh, it's okay, nothing happened. I want to be honest with you about this, but we're okay, all right?" she murmured.

His hand came up, and covered hers, but his gaze stayed on the ceiling. His throat worked in a silent swallow.

"There's still a spark there, on both our sides," she said. "It's been a long time since I've been attracted to anyone but you, and I know you could see it. I like working cases with him, he can banter with me at least half your speed, there's a draw there to…want to flirt, I guess."

"This is not my favorite conversation."

She edged a little closer to him, tucking her body all the way down his side. "The point is, I didn't want it. Even though on paper, he and I are kind of perfect. A cute guy in the FBI who would understand my job—"

"Like an intelligence operative doesn't?"

"Would you stop interrupting? I'm on your side, Logan. I want to tell you this because I'm on your side." She nudged him with a knee, a little smile finding her face. "I'm hashtag Team Logan, all the way."

The corner of his lips kicked up, and he finally looked over at her. "I guess I'm just worried about why you're telling me this now. Like maybe you said you wanted that ring—" He cleared his throat. "Because something happened and you feel guilty. Or because you're afraid something might happen, and you want to stop yourself. Because I have to tell you, Veronica… In the Navy, I'm around a lot of guys who are away from their wives for a long time and it's not the ring that keeps them faithful, if anything does." He paused. "It's their hearts. Their commitment to each other. Nothing else does it."

"I know." She rubbed her hand over his chest in tiny circles, his palm warming her knuckles as his hand moved along with hers. "I'm saying in a lot of ways, Leo would be a great choice for me, and I don't care. All I wanted was for you to be home, and twirling me around the kitchen, and nagging me to go to therapy, and sneaking vegetables onto my plate. Trust me, Logan, you're gone a lot. If I wanted to cheat, I'd have plenty of opportunities."

"I know." He tucked a piece of hair back behind her ear. "Leo's the first time I've been worried in a while."

"It was weird, seeing another guy I could be attracted to after all this time, because it just…I don't know, I guess I didn't want to go there. Even if you'd have never found out, I didn't want to go there. I realized that I couldn't be more committed to you. And if you left me, I couldn't be more devastated. Being married isn't going to make either of those things any more or less true. I don't know why I've been resisting it."

"So, you're already committed to me." He gave her the tiniest of smiles, his eyes almost shy. "Was that your moment of clarity?"

"That was the start of it. And then—" She took a breath. "Don't freak out, okay? I'm fine. I made it out. But we went to get the bomber today, and these two guys from a Mexican drug cartel showed up. Suddenly bullets were flying every which way and Dad…forgot to load his gun."

Logan surged to sitting, swearing harshly.

"I know, trust me, I know. And I'd already blown most of my bullets. When I was busy shooting, he went out the door, exposing himself to try and get to his bullets in the car. Thank God for all those times you made me go to the range and get over my fear of guns." She gave him a tight smile. "Though I clearly need to go back because I went through both my clips and didn't hit a thing. When my gun clicked empty, dad was outside with them and they still had plenty of ammo."

He reached for her hands, gripping so hard they hurt. She pulled herself to sitting and pushed herself to finish the story because she knew how hard it was to hear this stuff. Probably the only reason she hadn't died of a heart attack yet was that all of Logan's close calls were classified. She could only read them in the injuries he came home with. The unnamed officers in the news stories she followed religiously the second he left town.

"All I could find was this dull ass kitchen knife. I…" She choked, her voice breaking, "I almost didn't go out there, because I knew if I did, I was never going to see you again." He pulled her into his arms.

"Veronica. God."

"But my dad was out there," she whispered shakily, "and I didn't want to die cowering in a house, waiting for them to come to me. So, I went to them, knowing I didn't have a chance in hell of living through it, that my whole life…that was it. That was all the second chances I was ever going to get. If Weevil hadn't come…"

"Weevil? I thought you burned that bridge and salted the ashes."

"I did. He came anyway."

Logan's arms tightened around her, his biceps almost bruising her where they swelled and squeezed her with the strength of his hold. But his hands were gentle where they swept the length of her back.

"When I got home the other day and you were gone— I didn't even get to talk to you first. Last thing I said to you was something stupid. I went out to meet my death with a dull kitchen knife, choking on my own regrets. I never want to feel like that again." She pulled back. "I'm sorry I made you feel like that. That I sent you off with just my voicemail to talk to, that I've been so weird, that I broke your heart when you took that crazy brave risk to ask me—"

"You didn't break my heart." He kissed her, cupped her face. "Because you didn't leave me. I…I planned on waiting until right before I left again, actually. I knew you'd need space to think it over, to not be so scared you'd run. But I was so fucking happy to see you again I just couldn't wait another day."

She clutched him, her eyes falling closed as tears squeezed silently out onto his shoulder. "I get it." She didn't even recognize her own voice, it was so wretched. "Today, I got it. I shouldn't have ever waited so long. I thought…I thought we were rock solid, and I never wanted anyone but you. Marriage seemed like a thing other people did, as a prelude to alimony and hating each other. But I—" Her nails dug into his back and she had to make an effort to loosen her hands. "I wanted more, today. When I thought I was dying, I wanted to be tied to you in every way I could. To be as deep in as we could get. I regretted every stupid piece of distance between us. And when I had somebody to really be scared of, I realized how safe I've been, here with you. Even when you're scaring the shit out of me."

"Scaring you?" He pulled back, tracing her cheek, then his eyes changed as he figured it out. "By pushing. Asking you to talk about the parts of yourself you don't like. About stuff you want to forget."

She nodded. "I'm sorry I've been such a fucking baby about all that. I'm not…good at it. But I should have tried harder. You deserve that."

He kissed her nose, very softly. "Did you mean it? About the ring? Because it's okay if you didn't. You get a free pass to take it back. Near death experience and all."

Her throat ached that even now, she'd made him so uncertain about them. About her commitment to him.

"I meant it."

He got up and crossed the room, dug in the bag he'd brought with him when he left town. And when he turned around, he looked afraid—steady Therapy Logan nowhere in sight. But he dropped to one knee anyway.

"No."

He twitched at the sound of the word and his eyes shuttered. She could see his legs tense to rise back up to his feet, but before he could, she slid off the bed and was on her knees before him, taking the ring out of his hands.

"Please, Logan," she said. "Please marry me. I can't stand the thought of being with anybody else."

His eyebrows shocked up and light spread through his face. "Damn, Mars. I didn't know you had it in you to be romantic."

"It's the diamonds." She stuffed the ring on her finger without looking at it. "You know I'm a sucker for cash money."

He smirked. "You should at least take a peek and make sure you like the damn thing. I must have looked at three thousand of them, all over the world, trying to find one that looked Veronica enough."

"Mmm, I like the accessories it comes with." She caught him around the back of the neck and pulled him into her, but he was holding back in the kiss, like he was distracted. She sighed. "Fine, I'm looking, I'm looking."

She glanced down at the ring. The first time she found it in his bag, she'd been so shocked by the significance of it that she hadn't properly taken it in. But now… The middle stone was a sharp marquis cut, spokes of diamonds shooting up and out to each side of the main stone. Sharp and symmetrical, like the top peak of a snowflake. A little avant garde, a little racy. She'd never seen anything like it, and there was a twist of platinum flouncing out to each side of the diamonds that looked like a dare. Something of the curve suggested a cocked, beckoning finger, a sly smile.

She laughed. "Damn. That is the most Veronica ring ever."

He grinned. "Right? Found it in Switzerland. Shit, forget I said that. I definitely haven't been to Switzerland."

"Uh huh. Sure you haven't, Mr. Super Spy." She pulled him back up to his feet, and skimmed off her shirt. "Nice of you to save the world so quickly this time so you could come home and fuck me silly."

"Turns out I'm deeply motivated by sex with a beautiful woman." He shrugged. "Too bad we weren't around during the Cold War. I think I could have warmed the whole thing right up if you'd sent me one lingerie selfie for motivation."

She snorted. "If you didn't like lingerie so much in pictures, I would assume you hated the stuff. You never let me get all the way to the closet to put it on before you get all carried away."

"Mmm, give me five or ten years of being old married folks. Maybe then I'll slow down enough to actually let you put on the red lace before I rip it off you. Right now…" He dove to her neck, nibbling that little spot that always made her squirm. "You get me too hot just at the thought of it to wait for you to put it on your body."

"How hot are you, exactly?" She slid a hand down his body and her eyebrows bounced up at the bulge in the front of his pants. "Whew, two hours of oral sex hot. Did you start pre-gaming without me?" She'd come in more than once to find him naked, slowly stroking his fist down his length, locking eyes with her like he'd been lazily playing for hours, just waiting for her to come home so he could unleash all that pent-up tension on her.

And good God, had he.

"Nope, no pre-game," he said. "Turns out diamonds do it for me, too."

He popped her bra, still faster on the clasp than even she was, after all these years. She had to wrestle his shirt off him while his mouth was busy on her breasts, and then she sort of fell backward, letting him kiss the pants all the way down her legs.

"Hug me again," he whispered, shoving his jeans down off his hips. "Like you did when you came home."

Her throat tightened that he needed that comfort today as much as she did, and she rose up on her knees, naked on the bed, and reached out her arms for him. He caught her and she latched on to him, arms and legs hugging his lean, muscular body like she fit perfectly that way. He dipped his hips and entered her without ever letting go. The thick, wet slide of him made her groan and he held her eyes as he surged into her, her breath catching with every stroke. Then he cradled her head, tucking it into his neck as he hugged his chin down over her back.

His arms hugged around her as if he needed comfort, and his thrusts went slow and rocking and sweet. They spread tingles inside her like fingertips trailing down her spine and she squeezed her eyes shut.

All those guys, all those years. Nobody got to her like Logan. The way he never held back. The way her body had always seemed to know his, even when they were just kids. That very first kiss, like a bolt of Holy fuck, it can be like THIS?

She snuck kisses against his neck, her legs tightening.

"Lean back," he whispered. "I've got you."

She tilted her weight back and he caught her easily, angling her so the next thrust caught her with a dazzle of pleasure. "God," she gasped.

With other guys, in college and law school, there was always that feeling of desperation when they entered her. Because she'd be turned on but she already knew they weren't going to do it right to give her what she needed. Always too fast or too slow. Not deep enough, never hitting the right spot more than once. But with Logan, as soon as he came into her, he knew exactly where to go. How to rake the head of his cock over every place she needed it. Unerringly finding just the right speed, hitting deep and hard when she needed it. Listening to her breaths so he knew when he'd slid out of the right angle and needed to adjust. She could just relax, because he'd fuck her boneless in exactly the way she needed it.

It was the most shameful, secret part about her dream, actually. The lover in her dream looked like Leo, but he fucked like Logan. The exact size and shape of her boyfriend's hard cock, the angles only he ever found. The ways only he ever knew to touch her. It was like her brain wanted something safer than all the intense emotions and guilt and fear tied up with Logan, but she still didn't want anyone else's hands on her body. She'd felt sick when she woke up.

His thrusts slowed. "Are you okay? Wrong position?"

She hugged him tighter with her legs. "I'm just so glad you're home."

"Come here, sweetheart." He laid her down on the bed and kissed his way back into her mouth, shifting her until he could come into her body so deeply all she could do was cry out in broken gasps of air until he had her coming so hard it felt like she was wringing his cock dry.

Afterward, he lay behind her, her whole body tucked back against his chest while he played with her ring.

"I don't want to wait," she said. "Not with this bomber on the loose, not with you maybe getting called up again before we can plan a wedding." She snuggled her head in under his chin. "I want it to be permanent."

He didn't respond, and after a second, she shifted.

"Change your mind already, champ?" She stretched out her legs and tickled her toes across the top of his foot. "They do feel a little chilly…"

"Never." He kissed the top of her head. "It's just…"

"That's not my favorite start to a wedding date conversation. I thought I was supposed to be the reluctant one, here."

"Are you rushing into this because you're afraid you'll change your mind?" His voice was hushed.

She rolled over, found his eyes in the shadowy bedroom. "No." She said it firmly, waiting to make sure he believed her. "I wasted so much time. Years. Continents. Today, when I was about to die, I finally got why this was so important to you. If something happens to one of us, I want to know we didn't hold anything back, in the time we had left."

His eyes went dark and liquid and he nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

"I love you," she whispered. "More than anything."

And he rolled her right back into his arms and kissed her until her whole body started to tingle. When they were both out of breath, he pulled away to murmur, "I love you, too."

She hesitated. "Enough to do me a favor? Because I have a few things I need to set right before the wedding."