A/N: Thank you to everyone who has been reading so far. I promise no Wallaces were hurt in the writing of this story & Chapter 1 was the last you have seen of Piz.

Chapter 2: Look Who Dropped In

PRESENT DAY

INTERIOR MARS' APARTMENT

Veronica spent the afternoon settling in at home. After doing laundry and putting away her things in their designated places in her room, for lunch she wolfed down the special four cheese lasagna that her father had made for dinner. She'd make it up to him with her meatloaf. It would be good to prepare a home cooked meal again. The cafeteria food at Quantico wasn't bad, but the trays and the lines and the institutional setting got old fast. A night relaxing with her father at the counter they used as a dinner table was just want Veronica wanted.

Although the sun was setting, Keith hadn't yet returned from work. He had called earlier telling her not to worry. His last appointment was delayed and he'd be home soon.

The oppressive heat that had ravaged all of the Southlands in late August was beginning to subside as the Santa Ana's were drifting down from the north to add a welcome breeze. It wasn't a cooling breeze so much as any movement of the air provide a slight respite from the sun's blazing rays.

Too antsy to sit and wait for her father to arrive, Veronica decided to go for a run before dinner. Changing into running shorts and a lycra jogging bra, which exposed her newly toned abs, she left her father a note, donned her i-pod, and headed out the door, leaving Backup longing after her but knowing that even with the setting sun it was too hot for the dog to run. He was better off in the air conditioned apartment. She'd take him for a walk after dark.

EXTERIOR NEPTUNE BEACH

Life was good. The sun was fading in the west and it felt amazing to run along the shore again; the rhythmic pounding of the crashing waves intertwined with the beat of the music. Running through the cool, shaded Virginia woods was okay, but she was a California girl and nothing beat running on the beach.

Reveling in the bliss of being home, Veronica didn't notice the surfer sitting on the edge of the low tide line stripping off his wet suit.

He had been focused on gingerly extracting his arm from the rubbery second skin. The remnants of yellow and green bruises were visible on his chest and ribs. The bruises on his legs and buttocks remained concealed by the wetsuit but still restricted his movements somewhat. Consumed by his own affairs, the surfer wasn't paying attention to his surroundings when Veronica literally tripped over him. Instinctively, he reached up to grab his intruder.

"Ugh," she blurted as he echoed her with a "Whoa!"

Before she did a face plant in the sand, the surfer's quick reflexes managed to twist her lithe body and cradle her into a position where she ended up plopping unceremoniously onto his lap.

"Nice of you to drop in," he quipped drolly.

Blushing, embarrassed at her own clumsiness, and shocked to see him of all people Veronica could only mutter his name, "Logan," as she tried to clamber off his lap but his arms were too strong. She also wasn't really trying all that hard to free herself. There was something about the touch of his skin against hers and the way he smelled sent a jolt of excitement to her core.

"You need to watch where you're going, missy. Someone could get hurt."

Veronica glowered at him. It was an accident. She didn't need to be scolded like a child. "Let me up," she demanded pushing his restraining arm away and scrambling to her feet none too gracefully.

"So, what brings you back? East coast too fast paced for you?" he mocked. "I bet you just couldn't stay away from Pistachio."

Rising to her feet and brushing sand off her legs, Veronica corrected him, "We broke up."

Logan raised his eyebrows flirtatiously but bit back the snarky comment on the tip of his tongue. Maybe there was hope. He didn't want to blow it by pissing her off. Instead he focused on her bare midriff. Veronica was always fit but now he could see the muscles of her abdomen forming a six pack. He shifted his eyes but found that looking directly across at her skin tight running shorts that were accentuating her derrière wasn't helping. Being a guy, noticing that small expanse of exposed taut skin immediately flooded his mind with wanton thoughts of what those firm muscles could do astride him; 'down boy' he willed his awakening manhood. After so many months and such a spectacular blow out at the end of last semester, this beach was not the time or the place for the X-rated reunion he craved. Rather than drive himself crazy, Logan stood up to face her. Somehow his significant height advantage almost helped to overcome all the emotional advantages she had over him.

Not knowing what to say about the demise of her ill-conceived relationship Logan simply snorted derisively.

Veronica's brain was telling her to flee. . . to continue her run and to put as much distance between her and Logan as possible. This was very dangerous territory because she was rarely responsible enough to restrain her baser instincts in his presence., yet she couldn't take her eyes off the rippling muscles of his lean torso as he moved to stand up while the wet suit slid dangerously low under his hips, revealing a light trail of soft brown hair running from his belly button down, disappearing under the precarious covering - the proverbial Road to Paradise. She caught herself reminiscing about all the times she'd spent stroking her hands along that very spot in post coital bliss. The vee formed under his hips was always one of his sexiest features. 'Damn, he looked fine . . . the eternal bad boy of summer,' she mused. Piz was a handsome kid but a bit too soft for her tastes, especially compared to a rock hard and chiseled Logan Echolls sporting an end of summer tan. She willed herself to look him in the eyes.

When she looked up Veronica finally realized there was a bandage across the bridge of Logan's nose as well as the remnants of fading bruises all over his body. Tentatively she reached out to touch his arm. "Are you okay? What happened?" Her concern was immediately replaced by an accusation, "Don't tell me you were fighting again."

Logan shrugged her off angrily. He didn't need or want her pity. "I got a nose job. This is Southern California. Everybody gets a little work done, now and then." He wasn't about to tell Veronica that a week after he got to Venezuela for his surfing trip he was jumped and beaten within an inch of his life by a group of Russian thugs who warned him that if he ever laid a hand on Gory Sorkin again he was a dead man. What the Russians didn't count on was that between his father and the PCHers, Logan Echolls could take one heck of a beating and keep coming back for more.

He also wasn't going to tell her about his recent encounter. He was sworn to secrecy about that one. He would only discuss it with her if she mentioned first. Now though, he knew she hadn't been brought into the loop yet so he remained silent.

Although she knew he wasn't telling her the whole truth, Veronica uncharacteristically chose not to press the issue. She knew she'd find out eventually, whether Logan told her or not. Yet, the sight of him, injured, even though he was healing, broke her heart because this was why she had to get away from him. He was too self-destructive. It was too painful to watch and she couldn't bear the guilt of being the cause of his reckless behavior.

The former lovers exchanged pained, longing looks – both knowing they were holding back and denying their feelings but neither knew how to take those first steps back to each other. However, the magnetism remained. Between them, the temperature on the deserted beach started to rise even as the sun sunk steadily into the waves.

"Yeah well . . . ," Veronica fumbled for an excuse. If she didn't leave then, she might jump into Logan's arms and never leave. "I gotta go. You know . . . keep my heart rate up and all that." She placed two fingers on her carotid artery and pretended to look at the watch she wasn't wearing.

Logan gazed at her silently so she rambled on, starting to move her feet, jogging in place, "Gotta run." She smiled weakly at him before setting off.

When she was about 5-6 feet away Logan again found his voice, "Be careful, Mars. There are a lot of dangerous people out there."

She turned and glared at him. "I can protect myself," she insisted picking up her pace. All he could do was stand and watch her retreating backside which he so longed to grab.