Disclaimer: The characters belong to Rob Thomas. I claim part of the plot.

This chapter uses a few of the phrases from "Clash of the Tritons." But only a few.

And one of the reasons I seem to be concentrating on Logan is that, basically, it's his story, so far, that has altered the most in this particular AU, and I see no point in doing too lengthy a rehash of the actual TV plots. (Obviously it'll affect more than that by the time we get around to "Leave It to Beaver.") It has nothing to do with any potential Logan/Veronica relationship.

Oh -- and I have another story I'm working on, unrelated to this one, that I'd like a little feedback on before I finish it and/or post it. Anyone who cares to help, let me know somehow and I'll send you what I have.

X X X X X

Logan actually came to school the next day, for the first time in a while.

"Everything set with your mother?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said. "According to the papers, she's flown to New York, Sydney, or Venice, meeting a secret lover in the Camelot, or holing up for rehab. Your dad got her into the Neptune Grand with no problems."

"Good to know," I said.

"That's $250, right?"

"$300 total." He gave me a questioning look. "I paid Cindy MacKenzie to be the driver of the other car."

He shrugged. "Whatever," and began counting out hundreds.

Dick Casablancas passed by right then. "Dude," he said. "I realize you've been kind of hard up recently but you can get better hookers for a lot cheaper."

"Speaks Neptune's voice of experience when it comes to cheap hookers," I replied.

Logan looked at Dick and said, "I'm not paying her for her dubious skills in the bedroom, but for her superior skills as a detective."

"You're an asshole, and thank you," I said, taking the money. Not my best line, I'll admit, but I was more startled by the compliment than by the insult.

"So we're even?" Logan asked.

I made a show of counting the money and said, "Yup."

He nodded. "Good."

I called after him cheerily, "So remember, for all your reporter-disposal needs, just think of me!"

Turning, Logan gave a mock bow and vanished. Hmmm. That didn't end as hostilely as it could have. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for Logan Echolls.

Of course, some of that was probably simply the aftereffects of his father's death. But I'd take whatever I could get, at this point.

I checked my watch. 8:33. Nuts. I was supposed to be in our illustrious guidance counselor's office as part of her study on "the long-term effects of grief." I was going to decline a session, then I had a thought. I checked to be sure I still I had my gimmicked stapler, then hurried off down the hall.

Less than two hours later, I was being handcuffed in front of the entire school for manufacturing fake IDs -- which had somehow mysteriously spawned in my locker, to the tune of a couple of hundred. You'd've thought both Lamb and Van Clemmons would've had me pegged as not quite that stupid, and for all I know Lamb did that but couldn't resist the satisfaction of making me do a perp walk.

I passed by Logan; he didn't say a word, to my surprise. No matter, it was made up for by everyone else, including the one who took a picture of me as I left. Gosh, I hope they use that shot in the yearbook.

X X X X X

Student named Rick turned out to be the one who fingered me, allegedly at the orders of a mysterious student group known as "The Tritons." I spent the next few days trying to track them down, sandwiched around hiding in the parking lot and listening to Ms. James' grief counseling sessions.

Logan, in the interim, got into a huge fight with one of the PCHers who made a nasty crack after someone had had the poor taste to cover his locker in pictures of articles about his dad's death. This is kind of like finding someone who's just had their leg broken and kicking it a few times. As someone who's been on the other end of that kick, I can sympathize.

Yeah, I know. Sympathizing with Logan Echolls. Don't worry, I'm not planning on making a habit of it.

I got quite a bit out of listening to the sessions; I learned that, among other things, Lilly and Weevil had had something going (no matter how much I loved her, it seems that Lilly was the female equivalent of Aaron Echolls), that Duncan was both on medication for some kind of episode and had for some reason stopped taking it, and then there was what Logan had to say.

Our esteemed counselor (what? Me with issues to work out? Heaven forbid) started out with, "You could have rescheduled -- you know, with your father's recent murder."

Logan chuckled at that one. "There's a good one. I may be something of my father's child in many ways, but I'm hardly overwhelmed with grieving for my darling daddy."

"I've noticed," Ms. James said.

"And fortunately for me," Logan went on, "We're not here to hash out that topic today. So let's move on to the cheerier topic of my ex-girlfriend's murder, instead."

And then I found out why Logan had become the Obligatory Psychotic Jackass.

There was this party he and I were at, sans Lilly, where I'd seen him making out with Yolanda Hamilton. And I'd told Lilly.

"It sounds like you blame Veronica," Ms. James said.

"You know, Veronica was my friend too," Logan said. "And if she hadn't ratted me out, then Lilly and I would have stayed together. And," his voice began to crack, "Lilly wouldn't have been alone that day. I would have been there. So yeah, I blame Veronica. And I blame myself for being stupid and I blame Lilly for being a bitch that week."

"I've heard she's helped you recently," Ms. James said.

Logan snorted. "Yeah. For pay." After a second. "Look. She didn't have to do it; she could have told me to throw myself in front of a bus. She didn't, and I'm glad about that."

"Sounds like you don't hate her."

"I never did. It was just easier to publicly throw everything on her. After all, everyone else was."

"And you regret that?"

"Whether I do or not, it's too late to do anything about it now." He laughed humorlessly. "In any event, I thought we were here to discuss my feelings about Lilly, not the esteemed Veronica Mars."

They went back to talking about Lilly, leaving me to try to understand what the hell I'd just heard.

In fairness, I had a whole lot to process at that point, dealing not only with the revelations from Weevil, Duncan, and Logan, but figuring out exactly who the Titans were, and why they'd tried to frame me. Turned out to be Rick all along, dealing with his own issues regarding both my father and the Tritons.

Life's a bitch. But it continues.