A/N: Sorry for the delay! This was a tough chapter to write. As always, feedback is vastly appreciated. Thank you so much to those who have reviewed so far!

Logan was wolfing down some Lucky Charms in the kitchen when Consuela walked in, carrying a tray of Dad's untouched breakfast. He frowned as she started throwing it away. Wasn't Dad taking this whole Grieving Widower thing a little far? He hadn't worked this hard for a role since Breaking Point. Outside of the movies, Logan was pretty sure people couldn't actually die of a broken heart. At least not people who cheated on their wives.

It would be nice to believe that Dad loved Mom. Dad had sure convinced himself that he did. He was one step away from growing out his fingernails and becoming a full-fledged hermit. But Dad had always been good at convincing himself of things. Like that magical day they'd all spent at the zoo for Logan's tenth birthday. To hear Dad tell it, Logan had thrown a tantrum and smacked his own face against the window. Like, for fun, or something.

Logan could still remember the fury in his father's eyes when he'd spilled that milkshake in the car. He could feel the way the coldness had spread from the ice cream on his lap to his whole body; how he'd been frozen with fear until the back of Dad's hand connected with his nose and hot blood had spattered down his chin.

So if Dad wanted to convince himself that he was dying of grief, fine. But if he really loved Mom, he'd be trying to find her, like Logan was.

Logan slurped the last of the milk from his cereal bowl and checked his watch. Veronica had told him to meet her at the Sunset Regent at noon. "I've got a plan," she'd said, and hadn't offered to elaborate. After seeing her in action these past few weeks, he didn't push for more details. If Veronica said she had a plan, she did.

It had felt weird at first, trusting her with something so personal. Now it was kind of weird how un-weird it felt. Things weren't like they used to be – not even close. But it was nice knowing that she was fighting his corner. Even if he was paying her to do it.

He went to his room and fired up the PlayStation, hoping to kill some time before driving to L.A. He started a game of Halo, but he couldn't focus. Soon, he might see Mom. The thought made him giddy and terrified. What if she wasn't there? Or worse: what if she was there, and she didn't want him to find her?

He let himself die twice before giving up and getting in the car. He'd get to L.A. early, but he'd rather be there than here, listening to the maids creep past Dad's room like he was on his deathbed.

He was on the PCH when his phone rang. His heart skipped a beat, then steadied as he checked the caller ID.

"DK," he greeted, trying not to sound disappointed. Since when would he rather talk to Veronica than his best friend?

"Hey, man! We're still going to Kaz's party tonight, right?"

Logan had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn't matter. They went to every 09er party. It was basically a rule.

"Of course."

"Cool." Duncan paused. "I, uh… I hear Veronica might be there."

After a year and a half, Logan's response was more knee-jerk than genuine.

He scoffed. "And we're caring why?"

"No reason," Duncan evaded. Oh god, were Duncan and Veronica getting back together? That would just be adorable. Logan might puke from the cuteness. "I saw you two hanging out yesterday."

"So?" Logan snapped.

Duncan did the smart thing and dropped it.

"So nothing, I guess." He sounded confused, but it didn't last long. Nothing did with Duncan – not anymore. His antidepressants gave him the attention span of a five-year-old on speed. "Look, just be nice, okay? I need my wingman."

Logan managed not to groan out loud. Great. Just what he needed: to spend the night as Duncan and Veronica's third wheel. Their puppy love had been irritating enough back when Lilly was around to make fun of it with him.

"Alright, fine," he said. "But you owe me your firstborn."

"You da man, Rumpelstiltskin."

They hung up and Logan tried to force his attention back to the road and where it was taking him. To find his mom, he reminded himself. That's all he should be caring about. But the thought of Veronica and Duncan getting back together bugged him for some reason. It wasn't like he hated her anymore, if he ever had. He didn't totally trust her, but… he respected her. Maybe even more than when they'd been friends. Veronica got him in a way none of the other 09ers did. If she got back with Duncan, would she just disappear back into the vapid herd?

He got to the Sunset Regent a little before noon. They'd agreed to meet in the parking lot, so he stayed in his car, fiddling with the radio. Songs blended together as he swiveled the dial, melding with jingles for kitty litter and bickering DJs. Logan let it fill his head like white noise. This particular habit used to drive Mom nuts, back when she still drove him places.

"You're giving me anxiety," she's say, swatting his hand away from the radio. "Anxiety" – like it was some pain he inflicted on her. That was probably true. Although screwing with the car radio was possibly the least anxiety-inducing thing he did these days.

When he couldn't sit still any longer, Logan got out of his car and paced around the parking lot. He checked his watch, and then checked it against the clock in his phone. He paced some more. His mom might be in that hotel. The thought made his stomach churn. Now who's giving who anxiety, Mom?

When both his phone and his watch agreed that Veronica was late, he wandered into the lobby.

He'd stayed here before, he realized. A few years back, they'd been in L.A. for one of Dad's premieres. Dad had stayed out all night at some after-party, probably screwing his way through the catering staff. Logan and Mom had come back to the hotel. Mom had been buzzed and jittery, and she'd let him stay up late, playing Texas Hold 'Em together until 3 AM. Logan didn't think Dad had set foot in the suite once the entire weekend. Of course she'd pick this place.

It didn't happen often these days, him and Mom just spending time together. He was usually out with his friends, and she was either off at some fundraiser or at home and high. Since she'd disappeared, whenever he tried to picture her face, he saw that faraway look that meant she'd just downed her favorite vodka-Valium cocktail. He needed to see her, if only to remember what it looked like when she smiled at him.

He checked his watch and heaved a sigh. Where the hell was Veronica?

"I know; I'm late!"

Hm. Apparently thinking of the devil worked just as well.

He turned and saw Veronica jogging across the lobby, looking like she'd just come from a PTA meeting.

"Sorry, honey!" she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. Then she grabbed his face and kissed him on the cheek.

Logan was too stunned to push her away. Was this what it looked like when someone had a psychotic break?

"So I talked to this guy on the phone," she whispered, suddenly Veronica again. "Let me handle it; he's a bit prickly." She grabbed his arm and hauled him to the front desk.

"May I help you?" asked the concierge.

"You may! My fiancé and I are looking for a honeymoon suite."

Logan stared at her, struggling to keep a straight face. Did she actually think anyone was going to fall for this? All the turtleneck sweaters in the world couldn't make her look like anything but jailbait. As for him – he was wearing army pants, for Christ's sake. She could have at least told him to put on a dress shirt.

"Oh, how wonderful," drawled the concierge. He handed them a piece of paper with pictures of rooms. "These are our more affordable packages. The rooms run $350 for a courtyard, and $450 for poolside. For weekends, of course, it's a two-night minimum."

"Of course." Veronica reached into her bag and dragged out the biggest, ugliest wedding scrapbook Logan had ever seen. She dropped it on the counter, letting the massive rock on her left had catch the light. "Here's a little bit more what I had in mind."

She started flipping through page after page of flowers and dresses and table settings, cut from magazines and pasted into the scrapbook. When the hell had she done all this? They'd only found out about the Regent last night. It might be the craziest plan in the world, but she'd clearly worked her ass off for it. And Jeeves wasn't biting.

Logan took a breath and threw himself into the act. What the hell, right?

"Wow, sugarpuss!" he exclaimed. "You've certainly been a busy little bee."

Veronica gave him a guilty little "who, me?" smile and they giggled at each other, just so adorably in love. Logan turned back to the concierge with a grin.

"Ah, she's a keeper," he chuckled.

Jeeves still looked a little bemused, but he handed Veronica a binder.

"These are our luxury suites," he offered.

Veronica opened the binder, but there weren't any prices listed with the rooms. How were they supposed to know which one Mom's card had paid for?

"Nope," Veronica scoffed, flipping past the first page. Logan glanced at her, wondering how she could tell. "Hah! No. Hmm… yuck!"

She was nearly through the binder when she paused.

"Well, how much is this one?" she asked, all innocent curiosity.

"Ah yes, our Princess Suite. Twelve hundred a night."

Logan's heart skipped a beat. Bingo.

"It has a hot tub, 360-degree view, and private elevator access."

Logan's heart sped up with every word. That had to be the same suite he and Mom had stayed in years ago. It was her.

"Ooh, yummy!" Veronica exclaimed, grinning up at him. He managed a smile just in time. "Let's take a look, hon!"

"I apologize," said the concierge, "the suite's currently occupied."

"Like, literally occupied?" asked Veronica. "Because we could just poke our heads in."

"I'm sorry, but our guest has insisted on her privacy."

Of course she has.

Logan felt like his whole body was electrified, like every cell knew Mom was here and was straining to get to her.

"Could we maybe just call up to the room?" He could hear his voice shaking and he didn't care.

"I'm afraid that's not possible. I assure you we will afford you the same privacy – should you choose to stay with us!"

He wanted to argue some more, but Veronica was closing her scrapbook and pulling him away.

"Alright, stay put," she muttered. "I'm gonna go talk to the maintenance guys."

But that wasn't how Logan wanted to find her. He didn't want to break into her room, or whatever Veronica's Plan B was. He didn't want some maintenance guy there to witness his reunion with Mom. After what she'd gone through to disappear, she wouldn't want a big production. When he finally saw her, it should just be the two of.

"I think I can handle it from here," he said. He started moving cushions on one of the lobby couches, trying to decide which position would give him the best shot at the elevator.

Veronica just stood there, blocking his view.

"No, I can get them to unlock the service elevator," she explained, "and then we can just–"

"Nope, I've got a better idea." Logan settled into the couch, staring past her. "I'll just sit right here until my mother walks out of that elevator."

She didn't move. After a moment, Logan forced himself to look away from the elevators and up at her.

She was frowning, a little crease forming between her eyebrows. Even with the short hair and yard sale clothes, he recognized that look. It was Veronica's Concerned Face, the one she used to wear when Lilly dragged her into one of their crazier schemes, or when Logan and Duncan drank too much at a party. For once, memories of their friendship didn't piss him off.

"I just want to see her on my own, okay?" he said quietly.

Veronica nodded. She got it. Of course she did.

"Okay," she agreed. She smiled a little. "I hope it's her."

Logan looked back at the elevators.

"It is."

She didn't argue. After a few moments of him ignoring her, she left.

Not for the first time, he wondered if Veronica had ever found out what happened to her own mom. She'd been so good at tracking his that he figured she must've, but he'd never asked. He'd talked so much shit about Mrs. Mars in the past year that he figured the whole subject was off-limits for them, along with everything else pre-Lilly.

He'd never spent much time with Veronica's parents. The four of them usually hung out at the Kanes' place, or his place, or the beach. He hadn't given Mrs. Mars a second thought until the day Duncan had asked him to pick up Veronica from her house, and he'd walked in to find her yelling at her mother over a broken bottle of vodka, bake sale cookies burning in the oven.

Mrs. Mars had pulled on the addict mask he knew so well, joking with Logan like they were best pals and not realizing she was slurring. "I won't tell anyone," he'd promised before Veronica could even ask. He'd broken his promise a few months later, but by that point, who was counting?

Mom could get sloppy like that sometimes. Like last year, when Mr. Mars gave Logan a lift home after the homecoming limo party. Mom had answered the door stoned and in her bathrobe, like they didn't have staff for that.

"Logan, your dad's tux!" she'd cried, ignoring the sheriff on her doorstep and the patrol car in her driveway. "Go upstairs and change – we'll get it dry-cleaned before he sees."

Logan had glanced at the sheriff to see if he'd noticed anything – the slurring, or the fear. If Mr. Mars suspected something, he didn't let on.

Even when she was high, Mom had always tried to protect him from Dad. And even when she was sober, she was crap at it.

He'd been nine the first time Dad really hit him – belted him so hard across the face that Logan's head bounced off the coffee table on his way to the floor. They'd rushed him to the emergency room, Mom cradling Logan in the backseat with a towel pressed against his temple. She'd screamed the whole way, threatening to divorce Dad, to go to the papers and ruin him. But when the doctors asked what happened, she didn't argue with Dad's story about a skateboarding accident. Logan got six stitches. Mom never mentioned it again.

It had been like that ever since. Mom would fight Dad tooth and nail in private – scream at him and call him a monster, throw things, hold a cheese knife to his throat to get him off of Logan – but she'd never tried to leave them. Not unless you counted her little chemical vacations.

He'd learned early on to hate the little orange bottles that took her away from him, leaving him to fend for himself in their cold, empty house. When he was a kid, he'd tried hiding them, but she always seemed to have more. It wasn't until he started drinking that he finally understood why she took the pills.

Shame, greed, fear – whatever the reason, neither of them knew how to leave Aaron. But you could always escape into a bottle. The only difference between him and his mom was their choice of bottle. He'd long since given up hope that either of them had the strength to actually walk out. Now that she had, he couldn't blame her for going. He blamed her for not bringing him along.

Hours ground by. The elevator opened so many times that Logan's heart stopped racing at every ding. He slumped deeper into the couch, trying to get comfortable. His stomach started rumbling and then hurting. His eyes got dry and his eyelids grew heavy. His world shrank until there was nothing left but him, the couch, and that wall of elevators.

Mom was here. If he just waited long enough, she had to come down. He'd hug her and tell her how sorry he was for not being better, and she'd hold him and tell him how sorry she was for leaving. He just had to wait.

He was still waiting when his phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket with stiff fingers, fumbling to flip it open.

"Hello?"

"Hey, where are you?" Duncan asked.

Logan's eyes were already back on the elevators. "The Sunset Regent."

"You're partying in L.A. tonight?" Duncan demanded.

"If by 'partying,' you mean 'staking out the lobby,' then sure."

"Wait, why are you–"

"Forget it. Do you need something?"

"Kaz's party, remember? Wingman?"

Logan closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. Shit.

"Crap, dude, I'm sorry. I totally spaced. Can Luke or Enbom do it?"

"Sure, I guess," Duncan said, sounding annoyed. "But–"

"Gotta go, D. Have fun." He hung up before Duncan could finish.

Logan cracked his back a few times, and settled back in to wait. He counted seconds and then minutes, making deals with himself. If I wait one thousand more seconds… If I wait thirty more minutes… If I just wait, she'll come.

He was still waiting when Veronica showed up, perching on the coffee table in front of him without a word. She'd changed out of her bridezilla blazer, and it felt like days since they'd played teen private eye together.

Logan ignored her, wishing she'd go away again. Wishing she wouldn't say what he knew she was going to say. Give up. She's not here. Go home.

Sure enough –

"You know you can't sit here forever."

He didn't answer. He felt like he might puke if he opened his mouth.

"Whaddya say we smoke her out?" She pulled out her cell. Despite himself, Logan found himself watching her face and hoping. He'd expected her to tell him that it was time to stop pretending and face reality. That the credit card was another dead end, and that Mom was really gone. Instead, he found himself listening as she cancelled Mom's card. Their eyes locked and she gave him a little smile. Logan looked away.

Veronica hung up and turned to him.

"Have you moved since I left?"

He considered ignoring her, but then shook his head.

She sighed. "Go for a walk. Get something to eat. I'll watch the elevators."

He didn't want to. He might have argued if he felt like he could talk without heaving. Veronica tugged the pillow he was holding out of his arms.

"Go," she said, standing up. "You look like crap."

Logan snorted, but he went. His legs felt numb after a day of sitting, and he limped a few steps, wincing as the weight shifted in his suddenly full bladder. He looked over his shoulder and saw Veronica settling into his seat on the couch, facing the elevators, just like she'd promised.

He hit up the vending machines, spending all his dollar bills on snacks. As an afterthought, he dug some loose change out of his pockets and got a soda for Veronica. Whatever; it was just a soda. And it was worth it to see the look on her face when he handed her the can of Skist. Like Voldemort had started handing out candy.

They sat in silence as Logan worked his way through a bag of Doritos, a Gatorade and two Snickers bars and Veronica sipped her soda.

"How was Kaz's party?" Logan asked.

"Lame."

Logan's lips twitched. Of course she thought it was. But for once, he was pretty sure he agreed. Maybe it took your mom abandoning you to realize that high school parties were the dumbest things in the world.

She actually looked… nice. Okay – beautiful. She always did, even when she tried to cover it up with baggy, second-hand clothes. Even when he was so mad at her he couldn't see straight. The black dress and cardigan she was wearing now were probably too fancy for a kegger, but he doubted that Duncan had minded. Speaking of which, shouldn't she be getting wooed by his best friend right about now?

"Did you see Duncan?" he asked.

Veronica frowned. "Yeah. He's worried about you."

Oh. For some reason, it hadn't occurred to him that she was here because Duncan sent her. In some weird way, he thought maybe she'd noticed he wasn't at the party and came on her own. He was annoyed to realize he was disappointed.

"What about you?" he asked.

Veronica cocked her head.

"I think you'll be okay."

They settled back into silence. It felt better having Veronica here. Like if she thought this was worth it, then he wasn't just kidding himself. He pulled out his phone and fidgeted with it while Veronica watched the elevators, her chin in her hand.

Over the past few days, he'd started wondering what would happen between them once they found Mom. It felt okay, not fighting with Veronica. She hadn't given him a hard time about asking her for help. She hadn't even used their arrangement to try to get back in with the 09ers. Not that he'd expected her to; she was too proud to come crawling back to anyone who'd rejected her the way they had.

He knew some people used to think of Veronica as Lilly's sidekick; a glorified yes-man Lilly kept around to tell her how awesome she was. He'd never made that mistake. True, Lilly had bossed Veronica around – hell, she'd bossed them all around. But Veronica was the only person he'd ever seen say "no" to Lilly, outside of her own family. A few times, he'd even caught Lilly mimicking Veronica's reactions, stopping mid-laugh because she saw that Veronica disapproved. Lilly had loved shocking people, and her moral compass rarely pointed due north. Veronica was like her Jiminy Cricket: the angel on her shoulder that told her right from wrong. Too bad Veronica hadn't had her own Jiminy Cricket when her dad accused Jake Kane of murdering his own daughter.

Veronica grabbed his arm, jarring him out of his thoughts. He glanced at her and she pointed toward the elevator. And just like that, there she was.

Mom.

She was wearing her black trench coat and her "I'm a celebrity; please don't notice me" hat.

She walked toward the front desk and Logan stood up, his heart in his throat.

All of his half-baked ideas of playing it cool disappeared. All he wanted was to feel his mom's arms around him.

"Mom?" he called. He stumbled forward, dizzy with relief.

Then she turned and he came crashing back down. It wasn't Mom.

It was Trina.

"Oh, hey Logan." Her face twisted into an incredulous smirk. "Did you just call me 'Mom'? You okay, brother? You know Mom's… gone, right?" She laughed.

He could feel his heartbeat throbbing in his ears, pushing against his skull. The pressure made his eyes water.

"You're supposed to be in Australia." His voice came out strangled around the lump in his throat.

"Yeah, well, that didn't work out." She looked past him. "Veronica, hey!"

Logan barely heard Veronica's nervous response over the rushing in his ears.

"So, is the whole Brat Pack here?" Trina asked with that familiar mix of condescension and obliviousness. "Is this, like, prom night? You guys get a room here for some after-party?"

Logan felt a scream build up in his throat and ground his teeth to keep it inside. Like she'd just forgotten Lilly was dead? Like she thought things would ever go back to normal? Like he'd even be going to prom a few weeks after Mom… after Mom had…

"Oh, hey," Trina said, suddenly serious, "I've been kind of out of the loop lately. Are you two–?"

"Stop!" Logan snapped before she could drive him more insane. "You shut up. You're wearing Mom's clothes? You're wearing Mom's hat?"

"She was your mom, my stepmom." She rolled her eyes. "The lady who liked to parade through the house in a string bikini whenever I had a boy over."

A bitter laugh caught in Logan's throat, burning like bile.

"Yeah, well, to be fair, when didn't you have a boy over?"

"Oh, you!" She reached out to touch him and he slapped her hand away.

"Dad could've used you there!"

Trina scoffed. "So now you're worried about Dad's welfare? Isn't he the big, bad wolf?"

Logan's body flashed hot and then cold. He could practically feel Veronica's eyes boring into his back. Don't, he mouthed at his sister. But when had Trina ever listened?

"Cigarette burns and broken noses?" she taunted. "Oh, the stories you used to tell."

Well, it was already the worst night of his life. Why shouldn't Veronica Mars find out his darkest secret?

"Wow, we should get together and do this more often," he said, forcing a laugh.

"Well, you're in luck. I'm heading home now. Some accountant finally cancelled Mom's cards."

He could feel this descending into one of their nuclear fights, the kind that ended with her pouring beer into his PlayStation and him chucking her clothes in the pool. Then she'd run to Daddy and he'd run to Mommy, and Trina always, always won.

"But if you're coming home, who will play Dead Hooker Two on CSI this week?" he sneered. "How will you get your attention fix?"

Her comeback was already locked and loaded.

"Maybe I can be the ring girl at one of your bum fights."

Before he could respond, Veronica jumped between them, her hand on his arm. For a second, he thought she was shaking. Then he realized it was him.

"Should we get going, Logan?" she pleaded.

Trina's face split into a smile. This was all a game to her. Everything was. And Logan was the only one who ever lost.

"Veronica, look at you," she cooed. "All grown up. Hey, we should hang out while I'm in town!"

"Okay! Yeah." Veronica turned back to him, her eyes wide and anxious. "Logan, come on. Let's go."

She started pulling him away.

"See you guys," Trina chirped at their backs. "Drive safe!"

He turned, wanting to spit something back at her. He didn't know what. He watched his sister walked out of the lobby without a backwards glance.

Veronica tugged on his sleeve and he managed a few more steps. Then the truth hit him right in the gut and he folded over, gasping.

Mom was gone. She'd been gone all this time. She'd been gone when he read her suicide note. She'd been gone when he found the lighter. She'd been gone while he played video games at her funeral. She'd been gone when he swallowed his pride and took his desperation to Veronica Mars, for Christ's sake. She'd been gone while Dad grieved and Logan called him a phony. She'd been gone, and she hadn't even said goodbye.

The sobs tore out of his chest, leaving him choking. It felt like he'd been swallowed by a wave, dragged underwater and tossed around until he didn't think he'd ever find the surface.

Veronica put her arms around him and he clung to her just so he could cling to something as the rest of the world came unglued.