This section covers up to the beginning of Betty and Veronica. Once again, thanks for the reviews, the feedback, and the encouragement, and I'm really glad you're liking how things are going.

Disclaimer: I do not own Veronica Mars. I wish I did, though.

X X X X X

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Logan kept saying. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

But mostly he just held me until I was cried out. He kissed me a couple of times, but they were just to let me know he was still there.

When I finally pulled free, I said, "Yes. I do."

"I don't blame you for telling him about the tapes," he said. "Really. I do understand."

"No," I said. "That's not why I'm sorry."

"Then why?"

"I'm sorry because I couldn't protect you."

"Protect me?" He said. "Your Sydney Bristow impression aside, I never expected you to protect me."

"But I did," I said, looking him straight in the face. "Don't you get it? I made a mistake. I screwed up and now someone else has power over our lives."

"Everyone makes mistakes."

"I can't!" I screamed. "Bad things happen when people make mistakes. Dad made a mistake and got kicked out of office. Lilly made a mistake and ended up dead. I made a mistake at Shelly Pomroy's party and -- No. I can't make mistakes. I can't let people get hurt."

"I get it. You really are some kind of superwoman, aren't you?" Logan murmured.

I closed my eyes and leaned against him. "I have to be."

"No, you don't," he said. "No, you don't."

I looked up into his eyes and saw that he believed every word he was saying, both that he understood why I couldn't make mistakes, and that he would forgive me that I had.

He would forgive me my vulnerabilities.

I couldn't. Not yet.

But I was glad that he could.

I kissed him briefly -- then a bit less briefly. "Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome," he said. "For what?"

"For understanding."

"Of course," he said. Then he asked, "What was that about Shelly Pomroy's party?"

I wasn't ready to have that conversation. I pleaded emotional exhaustion and he said that he wouldn't push me.

Good. I didn't know if I could stand being pushed right then. Not by Logan, not by Dad, not by anyone. But I could tell from the worry on his face that he was going to ask again.

Something else to not look forward to.

We went back into the living room where I picked up my money, reheated the now-cold pizza and half-heartedly munched on it while watching more TV until 10 o'clock.

Then I told Logan he had to go -- "After all, Dad might be serious. Just because I've never heard Backup talk doesn't mean he can't."

He quirked a smile -- possibly the first time either of us had smiled ever since Clarence Weidman had shown up. "Of course," he said. Then we walked right outside the door, where he clasped both of my hands and said, "We'll get through this, Veronica." And for just a moment I was buoyed up enough by his confidence that I believed it too.

X X X X X

I managed, somehow, to fake my way through conversation with Dad that night when he came home -- at about 11, he sauntered in, whistling a jaunty tune. I guessed from that he'd cornered the bail jumper. Then I listened to his story and watched as he actually asked Backup what Logan and I had been doing that night. He made a show out of bending down and listening to Backup as though the dog was actually whispering in his head, muttering, "Uh-huh," and "Really," every couple of seconds. Then he looked up and said, "Backup said nothing happened."

Which would have been funny, of course, under other circumstances.

When I went to bed that night I dreamed of Lilly again.

We were in the Kane backyard, by the pool, just sitting there and talking.

"I told you I approved of you and Logan," she said, grinning. "Next time you'll believe me. I am a goddess. I know all!"

"Yeah, right," I said, grinning.

"So you're telling me that all of this --" she waved her hand over her entire body -- "Isn't worthy of worship?" I laughed. "You worship me," she said. "Logan worships me. Everyone worships me!"

I got off the lounge chair, got on my knees, and vowed eternal obedience to the great goddess Lilly.

"You may rise," she said, somehow being giggly and imperious all at the same time.

But when I stood up --

Aaron Echolls was standing right behind her. He smacked her across the head with -- something -- and she fell to the ground into a position I knew well and had seen repeatedly, in my nightmares.

That I knew this was one didn't seem to be making it end any faster.

"She's not worth your effort," he said, sneering. "I mean, she was exciting and all, but one piece of jailbait's just the same as any other to me."

I started backing away.

"Relax, Veronica," he said, suddenly jovial again. "I'm not going to hurt you. Why would I need to?" And suddenly he was right there in front of me. "You can't catch me, anyway. They don't arrest ghosts in this jurisdiction. Especially movie star ghosts."

Then he was right there in front of me and said, right to my face, almost in a whisper, "death becomes me."

X X X X X

My typical dreams about Lilly ended up with me tossing and turning and awake for the rest of the night. Toss in a surprise visit from nobody's favorite dead actor and I was lucky I didn't jerk upright screaming loud enough to wake up people in cryogenic suspension.

I did wake up Dad, thought, who was in my room in seconds. "Nightmare," was all I said to him. "Sorry."

He sat down on the bed and hugged me. "Oh, sweetie," he said. "It was Lilly again, wasn't it?" I nodded. "You've been having these dreams for a long time now. I think maybe you need to talk to someone about them."

"No, I don't, really," I said. "I'll be okay. I promise."

"We'll talk more about this in the morning," he said. "Now get some sleep."

Like I had any chance after that. My mind was racing at the speed of sound, thinking about how I'd failed Lilly and Logan and how my future was in the hands of Clarence Weidman and how I still hadn't found my mother and I was never going to find out who raped me and oh god Logan still wanted to talk about that and dad thought I needed a shrink and all of it.

Parts of me mentioned the good things that had happened. Saving Logan. Finding Logan. Fracturing the '09ers. Wallace. Mac.

But as usual, I wasn't listening.

X X X X X

In a way, the nightmare helped me -- it explained my haggard condition the next morning. Even a long shower didn't do much of anything to make me feel better.

Dad saw this and postponed the discussion he'd been planning to have about my nightmares. When it came to fatherly instincts, Dad was the best. (Of course, considering the competition in Neptune, not as much of a compliment as it sounds.)

Logan and I met in the parking lot that morning. "Looks like you had a rough night," he said.

"Nothing that a time machine couldn't fix," I said. "Look," I said as we walked towards the school. 'Thanks. For understanding. And for forgiving me."

"Someone had to," he said. "And you're clearly not ready to do it yourself." We stopped for a second. "Look. Are you up to this?"

"Of course I am," I said. "I'm Veronica Mars. I'm up for anything."

As we passed the flagpole, though, I heard a loud and obnoxious voice. "Dead skank walking!" it shouted.

I turned around. Dick Casablancas. While there were a few scattered laughs from the crowd, it wasn't nearly the reaction it would have been a month ago. Or even a week ago.

"So," I said casually, "How are things going for Neptune's newest criminal mastermind? Better watch out -- the Fitzpatricks might not like the competition."

"Look, Mars," he said angrily, walking towards me.

"I know, I know. You would have gotten away with it, too, if hadn't been for us meddling kids." Laughter from the crowd. More than Dick had gotten. He didn't seem to notice.

"You watch it," Dick said. "I know something."

"I think every teacher you've had since elementary school would argue with you there," Logan said, moving to get between me and Dick. I waved him back, just a bit, though he stayed protectively close.

"Dude, I was trying to do you a favor!" Dick shouted.

I shook my head, sadly. "Reality check, Little Dick," I said. "Taking someone's books home? That's a favor. Downloading some cheat codes? That's a favor. Kidnapping someone? That's a felony. I'm sure somewhere in your delusional mind you see yourself as the good guy in all of this. That's sad. The rest of us see you as the contemptible cockroach you really are."

Dick raised a hand, as though he were about to hit me. "Mr. Casablancas!" A voice yelled. Dick froze. Vice Principal Clemmons came towards the confrontation. "Back away from Miss Mars." The rest of the crowd slowly started to edge away.

"But she started it!"

"Mr. Casablancas," Clemmons said. "Your credibility is so low right now I wouldn't believe a weather report if you gave it. My office. Now."

Dick followed him into the school, though he shot Logan and me an absolutely vicious glare on the way in.

Logan and I parted at the front door to the school, with a couple of quick kisses. Then I went off -- I had an early free period and was going to watch Wallace in a little early basketball practice.

After the practice, as we walked through the halls, he got high-fives and admiring looks to beat the band. One girl came up to him and said, "Man of action on and off the court," in a seriously sexy voice and gave him the 'call me" gesture. Good to see him getting the love. Even if it was superficial, and from people who until he started playing hoops would have spit on him simply because he was my friend. Wallace liked it, though, and that was the important thing.

As we walked, we ran into Meg and Duncan canoodling in front of their locker. On balance I was happy for them. Maybe if I hadn't had this thing with Logan, I might have been substantially more weirded out. But as it was --

Right then I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around; it was Clemmons. "Veronica," he said. "My office. Now."

He turned around and walked away; I said goodbye to Wallace and followed him there. I'd been kind of expecting this ever since the confrontation with Dick.

But Clemmons did something that almost never happens: He surprised me. As he closed the door, he said, "Veronica, I'm sorry for what happened this morning."

"Don't worry about it," I said. "It's not like Dick was on a leash or anything."

"He is now," Clemmons said. "I've arranged things so that neither of the Casablancas brothers will be sharing classes with neither you nor Mr. Echolls for the rest of the year. I have also impressed upon them that they will stay away from the two of you while they're on school grounds."

"Wow," I said. "Thanks."

"Now then," he said. "I also have a favor to ask you." He went on to explain how Polly, the Neptune High mascot, had been kidnapped, and asked me to try to get her back.

I was so happy to do be doing something, anything, to take my mind off Clarence Weidman that I jumped at the chance. I barely managed to squeeze a personal letter of recommendation and an excused absence from gym out of him as my payment.

I left the office in a substantially better mood than I'd been when I woke up this morning. Not that that was saying much. But even if I wasn't feeling on top of the world, I didn't feel like I was stuck at the South Pole, either.

So. How does one track down a missing parrot, anyway?