AN: Thanks for the enthusiasm! I mentioned in the last chapter that this was slightly AU. I decided to keep the canon version of Aaron's death. I just altered everything else after 2.21.

I own none of this. Rob Thomas does. I'm simply procrastinating at work.

He couldn't sleep. It was no surprise, really. The idea of seeing Veronica Mars had robbed him of sleep on a regular basis over the three weeks since he'd gotten Wallace's email. That phone conversation hadn't helped much either. He'd barely spoken to Wallace since then. Just a quick email to say that he as still going to Neptune.

Wallace had been right, of course. Now that he knew Veronica would be there, he'd never forgive himself if he didn't leap at the chance to see her. Talk to her. Say what he needs, and has needed for so long, to say. The will was strong. But the words….the words just weren't there.

He'd learned long ago not to think of her, or the way they had parted. Or rather, he had tried not to think of her. It never really worked for long. She was part of his soul. She was both his personal demon and angel of redemption, though it had taken him years to get used to the idea. She would probably say something snarky if he ever told her that's how he thought of her.

At first, it had been the anger and recrimination that made him want to forget her. The bitter taste that never left his mouth after she'd dumped him and gone running back to Duncan's arms in the summer before their senior year. No one had ever hurt him more. Not Lilly. Not even Aaron. The welts on his back had been nothing compared to the cracks in his heart.

But he couldn't forget her. Oh, he tried. But even halfway across the world, he heard her voice. Saw her eyes. And hated himself for it. For still loving her. For wishing she had loved him enough to stand by him. Over time, the anger turned inwards, and he hated himself for driving her away.

Strangely, she had become his motivation. He never thought he would see her or speak to her again, but he was determined to prove to her, to himself, that he could be a man worthy of her love. Still, he never spoke of her. It was an obsession that only he knew. His friends in London never knew such a girl existed. Sometimes, he almost forgot that she really existed. She had become like Lilly to him- a ghost, an image, a concept. Veronica Mars was not flesh and blood to him. Other women were flesh and blood. There had been plenty of other women. Logan Echolls had hardly been a monk. She was more like his muse. A nameless muse with big blue eyes that spurred him to be…more.

Even after returning to America, she had remained a ghost. Sure, her name came up in conversation with Wallace. He knew tidbits about her life- she'd gone to Stanford, was now in Chicago getting a degree in criminal psychology. And hated him so much that no one dared to speak his name within her hearing. Or within range of her super-spy gadgets.

He sighed, and sat up. Sleep was a lost battle. In five days, he was going to Neptune. He still didn't understand why the people who loved her were so hell-bent on forcing them together. Maybe it was just for closure. Maybe it was time for him to bury his strange obsession with Veronica Mars once and for all. He was no longer that poor little rich boy, that bad-ass wannabe in a yellow XTerra. He wasn't even the Logan he'd been in London, slightly lost and looking for a way to reinvent himself. He had reinvented himself. He had a life in New York, a great job, a respected name, good friends who didn't smash headlights for fun.

Of course. Why had it taken three weeks for him to figure it out? The Mars-Fennell family was bringing everything to a head because it had to end. They liked him, he knew that. They cared about him. And they wanted him to get on with his life.

He took a deep breath. He had five days to prepare. Five more days before he finally let go.

Logan tried to bury himself in work during those last five days. Sometimes it still surprised him that he genuinely liked his job as much as he did, and that he was so good at it. But something about the corporate world fit him. The business lunches, the wheeling and dealing, the power suits, knowing when to use charm and when to be just a bit ruthless…it came to him as naturally as breathing. He wallowed in work as much as he could, getting there early and leaving late, as though determined to remind himself that he loved the life he had. And he really did love it. Although he had always been accustomed to obscene amounts of wealth, it gave him enormous satisfaction to earn it himself. He could still hear his father's taunts about never having had to work for his lifestyle. Now, he did work for it. A part of his brain considered every dollar he made a new way to flip Aaron the bird. Unlike his father, Logan hadn't built his fortune by pretending to be someone else, but by finally being himself.

The nights were another matter. Even if he went out with friends, he inevitably had a few hours in the darkest part of night where he had only himself for company. Sure, he could have found a willing companion for those hours, but he simply didn't want one. He couldn't bring himself to expend the energy on The Chase. Instead, he went home alone to lie in his oversized bed, stare at his ceiling, and think. In a way, it was his form of mental preparation. How could he let go if he wasn't 100 certain what it was he was letting go of?

He had changed so much in Europe. He'd had to. Neptune had become a black hole, slowly sucking him into the void. At first, it had just been about getting away. What was it she had said to him? Blonde barmaids in Berlin, chic leggy brunettes in Paris. He smirked to himself. There had been plenty of those, especially in the beginning. He hadn't given a thought to what he was going to do with himself in Europe. It was just about purging himself of Neptune, CA, of Lilly, of his father. Of Veronica Mars. Some of those blonde barmaids and leggy Parisians had been just to spite her.

Ironically, it had been the news of his father's death that snapped him out of it. Someone had shot Aaron Echolls while his son had been partying in Milan. Logan hadn't flown back for the funeral. He let Trina have the entire spotlight, not wanting to deal with the cameras and reporters. Halfway across the world, he had realized that he was truly free. And responsible for himself. He couldn't blame his father anymore. His father was dead. Aaron had no role in his future. Once that novel concept sunk in, Logan became aware of just how badly he wanted that future. He'd been as surprised as everyone else when the London Business School accepted him, but he'd leapt at the chance. Three years of hard work, and hard play, and he'd made himself into a real person.

He'd missed America, though. Three years in Europe had made it clear that he was a good ole' American boy at heart. He loved London, but it just wasn't home. He was always "the American" there. He didn't know where home was, but he knew it had to be somewhere on the other side of the Atlantic. California was out of the question. New York had been as far from Neptune as he could have gotten. It also reminded him most of London, helped him hold on to the Logan he'd become there.

Tomorrow, he would go back to Neptune. 'It's just a place,' he reminded himself. Going back to Neptune didn't mean reverting to High School Logan. He'd been back before, and stayed himself. There was nothing to fear from Neptune. But then, it wasn't really fear he was feeling. More like apprehension, tinged with sorrow. Maybe it really was time to let go.

And he knew exactly what he needed to do.