A/N: Here ya go...A (longish) overdue update of Weekend. You didn't think I forgot about this story, did you?! Nope, no fear. Thanks for your patience, glad it kept getting new readers, followers, etc...Thank you for reading, reviewing, following, favorite-ing, etc...Hope you keep on enjoying this story. It's crazy fun to write. BIG thank you to my beta-cainc3! She came up with a great idea, too, I'm running with. Enjoy...

Obligatory disclaimer: Nope, don't own a THING...It's all Rob Thomas' domain. I enjoy having play dates with these characters though...

Chapter 5—Storms

Another drop of rain fell on Mac's head. Then another, and another, and so on until the speed at which the rain fell picked up so much it was as though someone had dropped a bucket of water on everyone on the boat. In a matter of a minute, it had gone from drizzle to torrential downpour.

There was a scramble as most everyone started grabbing the remains of their stash of food from the picnic and their precious liquor supply, trying in vain to stick it somewhere dry. There was precious little real estate remaining however.

Meanwhile, Paige was still trying to get the engine to turn over. Mia and Azure were hovered around her, shouting out helpful advice, speaking over each other so no one was being heard. Out of sheer frustration, she let out a string of curse words and hit the steering wheel a couple of times as though it would magically start up if she slapped it around hard enough.

Mac stopped in the middle of stowing the food bags under one of the seats when she observed Paige's grumpy display. She thought she looked like a kid in the throes of a temper tantrum. Ryan had certainly served up some good ones back in the day.

"Does anyone know anything about fucking boats?" Paige yelled loud enough to be heard over the strum of conversation around her and the tattoo of the rain beating down on the boat and surrounding lake. She punctuated her sentence by once again slamming the wheel in frustration. It was evidently harder than planned because a grimace of pain temporarily replaced the scowl. She muttered another curse word under her breath and shook out her hand. She reassured a concerned Mia that her hand was fine; she was just supremely pissed at being stuck in a boat in the middle of a fucking monsoon.

"I do," Amy said loudly in response to Paige's plea. "Or I should say, I know a little bit about trucks and tractors, and I'm hoping that may translate to boats, as well."

"If you've seen one motorized vehicle or electronic gadget, you've seen them all," Veronica said. She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.

"That is not the least bit true, actually," Mac interjected. "There are intrinsic differences mechanically between all the various makes, models and iterations of motorized vehicles. A car and a boat are two very different entities that both happen to require an engine and pistons to run."

"Ah," Veronica spoke up quickly hoping to cut off a lecture at the pass. "I must stop you here," she held up her hand in a referee gesture. "I don't need an electronics anatomy lesson; I just meant that having experience on one type of vehicle may give you a leg up with the inner workings of other motorized vehicles."

"Then why the hell didn't you just say that," Mac grumped under her breath. She shook her head and then went back to work keeping their leftover food supply dry-or as dry as was possible in the deluge. "I'm not 100% certain, though, that it works that way."

"It's a good theory though, and all we have to pin our hopes on," Cee-Cee interjected, overhearing the exchange.

"Let me clarify something here, in the interest of full-disclosure," Amy continued, "I actually just help my dad work on his truck. I'm really good at distinguishing an Allen wrench from a Torque wrench, especially when he points to which one he wants."

"Maybe, between the two of us, we can get this boat sea-worthy again," Mac said. "I rebuild computers on the side."

"Lake worthy," Hadley corrected.

"Figuratively," Veronica said, turning to look at Hadley and not bothering to hide her eye roll. Then put her focus back on Mac, "and you, I thought there were intrinsic differences between various mechanical vehicles and other electronic gadgets."

"There are, I stand behind that statement, but like Cee-Cee said, we don't have anything else to pin our hopes on. I know computers and I've sort of been around boats all my life, while Amy knows her way around trucks and tractors. We'll have to play the role of pit crew unless there happens to be a Coast Guard ship cruising by."

Hadley opened her mouth again to speak, but Mac cut off any other correction attempts.

"Yes, I know, the Coast Guard isn't very likely to be sailing on Lake Tahoe right about now."

"No, I was just going to say that's a good point," Hadley said. "We're not teaming with choices here."

Veronica shook her head at Mac, not buying Hadley's innocent act for a millisecond.

At yet another grind of the motor, Mac gritted her teeth, she hated that sound, and it made her cringe. Shooing everyone else back so they'd have space to work, she and Amy both went over to the driver's seat where Paige was not even attempting to hide her frustration. Fearing that their ride would become collateral damage from her rage, Mac volunteered to take the seat behind the wheel and try to coax the engine into starting again. She was relieved that Paige acquiesced so quickly.

Paige willingly gave up the captain's chair and walked over to the other side of the boat where Veronica had just taken a seat. She flopped down between Hadley and Veronica.

It occurred to Mac that maybe the engine wouldn't start because it was getting flooded and maybe it just needed to rest a little while. She shared that theory with Amy, who was a little skeptical but decided it couldn't hurt trying, at the very least. She sat there, tapping her fingers on the wheel as she passed time, and everyone got wetter and wetter in the rain that was showing no sign of slacking anytime soon.

Amy busied herself studying the control panel in front of Mac's face. She knelt down and studied each display as though she could divine the answers by starring at them.

Looking up, Mac saw Veronica leaning over Paige to whisper something in Hadley's ear. Too far away to hear what was going on, she contented herself with watching facial expressions instead. It was obvious that V was doing some Nancy Drew-ing, though it didn't look like there was much of a case there. Hadley fell over the side of the boat, end of the snoozey story, but sitting idly by, not doing something to engage her conspiracy-loving imagination, was not Veronica's strong suit.

Hadley listened to whatever Veronica told her, nodding, probably in agreement. Then she whispered something in reply.

Mac's spy girl routine was distracted by Amy bumping her leg. She'd lost her balance and fallen over.

"Sorry," Amy said quickly. "I don't know. Like I said earlier, I'm a better assistant than mechanic. Dead battery is usually a good suspect though." She regained her equilibrium.

"Yikes, that's not good," Mac said. The skies were beginning to darken even more despite the fact it was probably only around 1 PM, if even that late. Unless they could call out on the radio they were pretty much sitting there with a giant "kick me" sign, taunting the lightening to smite them down if a storm swooped down. "Paige," she called out.

No answer. The rain made the acoustics in the boat not very reliable.

"Paige," Mac called out again, louder this time, in order to be heard over the driving rain.

"What?" Paige called back.

"The radio. Did you call in for help?"

"I don't know who I would call for help; we don't know anyone around here."

"We don't have to know anyone, we could just put out a general distress call," she suggested.

"Oh," Paige replied, flatly. She seemed to deflate a bit. "Give it a try," though her tone didn't carry much hope.

Mac reached out to the radio panel to the right of her. She turned the center knob to the right, and then pressed in the red perpendicular button, thinking, hoping it was the correct sequence. Nothing happened, not even a faint buzz of static emanating from the speakers. She groaned, sure this would have been the miracle cure they needed, outside of the boat magically starting of course. She interlocked her fingers together and proceeded to crack her knuckles, then started a different sequence of buttons and knobs on the radio. She got the same result though—nothing.

Cee-Cee, who had been sitting on the far bench seat listening to Veronica voir dire Hadley, got up and joined Mac and Amy at the captain's seat.

"Please tell me you've come to save us," Amy said.

"I wish. Sadly, I left my Wonder Woman cape back in Denver, but I was coming to offer my assistance. I, too, know the difference between an Allen wrench and torque wrench. Uh, I think."

"You just want to avoid being a part of Veronica's witness interrogation, right?" Mac hypothesized while giving her a co-conspiratorial smile.

"Something like that," Cee-Cee hedged. "Hadley had just asked me if I'd heard a weather report. I think she was afraid we'd get caught in the storm. Then she stumbled and fell. Anyway, it wasn't suspicious conversation or anything, but your friend thinks there's more to the story." She vaguely pointed in the direction of Veronica. "I feel like a suspect locked in a murder room."

Mac smiled. "Veronica always thinks there's more to the story. When she was four, she made up an alternate ending to Cinderella involving evil stepmoms and pumpkins plotting governmental coups."

"That sounds like fan fiction," Cee-Cee said, Amy nodded in agreement.

Mac smiled faintly, only vaguely familiar with the term fan fiction, but didn't ask for a working explanation. "It's that little habit, addiction really, that brought her to the PI game, and now it's what's driving her to become a lawyer."

"It should serve her well."

"Indeed."

Mac pulled at her tee-shirt, the rain had suctioned it onto her body. She was wearing it like a second skin, one she desperately wanted to molt.

"Any idea what's going on?" Cee-Cee asked, a hopeful edge coloring her words.

"Not really," Mac replied. "Low battery maybe."

"I just thought of something else," Amy added.

Mac cocked her head.

"It could be the kill switch or even the starter switch coming loose."

"Please tell me that's an easy fix," Mac said, all but begging.

"Very easy, it just requires a little tightening from the back of the control panel, something any computer tech could do in their sleep," Amy was explaining, but at that point Mac quit listening.

Her attention was taken entirely by the flash of lightening glimpsed through the trees and off in the distance.

****Dick & Mac's Apartment, Saturday afternoon****

Dick didn't even try to be quiet as he entered the living room of his apartment, his arms full of take-out boxes from the Neptune Café, his favorite breakfast spot in the entire known universe—possibly unknown, too.

He kicked the door shut and walked over to the couch. He found exactly what he thought he would, Logan spread out, lying flat on his stomach, one hand touching the floor. He had a thin blue blanket hastily draped over him, snoring faintly. It was as though he were frozen to that spot, Dick was pretty sure he hadn't moved all night.

Bourbon and heartbreak were a powerful sedative.

He dumped the cartons unceremoniously on the table with a loud thud, and nudged the comatose Logan, hard. "Dude, are you dead? We'd never get the smell from the couch and Mackie would be so pissed if I left a corpse to rot on her precious furniture." He was a big believer in tough love.

Logan muttered something into the pillow vaguely resembling fuck off, but as the words were swallowed up it was hard to tell for certain.

"He lives," Dick exclaimed. Then added, "alright, well, if I fuck off like you just invited me to do, I'm taking your omelet with me. That always kicks my appetite into gear." His lips pulled up into a grin as Logan slowly rolled over and sat up, taking his time like everything hurt, and that was probably the case.

There was more muttering, and though this time it wasn't said into a pillow it still wasn't very clear. It sounded vaguely like Logan said gimme. His disheveled hair, and bloodshot eyes gave tell to the two alarm hangover he was obviously suffering from. He wiped his eyes with one hand and kept the other one outstretched to accept the take-out container that Dick had yet to offer him.

"I don't remember hearing the word please," Dick prompted.

Deciding to save his words, Logan settled for letting his middle finger do the talking for him.

Ever the gracious host, Dick passed him a large cup of black coffee and a container with his favorite post-surfing breakfast of sausage, mushroom and green pepper omelet over a bed of shredded hash browns and onions anyway. Logan took it out of his hands forcibly, but did manage to mutter a word somewhere in the neighborhood of thanks.

He nodded in acceptance and then grabbed the second container, the one holding his own Swiss cheese, bacon and spinach frittata. Spinach was the token veggie, which should appease Mackie; something green would pass his lips this weekend without her raised eyebrow to keep him towing the line.

They ate in relative silence.

Though they both had drank a lot the night before, Dick had dry swallowed three Advil's before drifting off to sleep as images of Mackie flooded his synapses. By the time he'd wakened he was feeling well-rested, energized, and had decided to hit the waves early. His favorite spot was about a mile beyond Dog Beach, still dead-center in a '02'er enclave. Even the waves were scrappier there, if there was any such thing as scrappy waves. They were rough and tumble, and gave a good ride—good head-clearing ride.

Once again he was thankful to have found someone like Mackie, well, not just like Mac, but actual Mac. Truthfully, he was amazed to find himself capable of a functional relationship, he would have bet on the fact it was a gene sequence missing from his DNA. They weren't epic, they didn't have drama in their marrow, like Logan and Veronica—two people who always managed to mentally vampire each other like no one else, but despite the bloodletting, they were fucking magnetic. No, he and Mackie were quieter maybe on the surface, but they had a bond born out of shared pain that took on its own life. He loved her, and loved the parts of himself she brought out in him. Priceless—fucking priceless. She was always challenging him to be better, do better, and he'd noticed he made her braver, too. He liked the thought that he brought out the best pieces of her, too.

Honestly, Dick had never understood the draw of letting someone so deep inside that they merged, that is until he wised up and let Mac into his life. So yeah, he got how the depth Logan let Ronnie into his life, and how her little habit of running away from life in general, and her feelings for Logan, specifically, exploded into shards infecting him on every level. He just hated having to pick up the Logan-pieces she left in her destructive fucking wake, but Logan was family—better family than he had by blood—and that was a small price to pay in the whole scheme of things.

Sergeant Echolls, or whatever the hell titles they had in the Navy, well, it was a bit of an unexpected development, but not as much of a stretch as he'd first thought. Dick could understand, on one level, how the military would give Logan a direction in his life. Not a direction he'd ever choose himself, but yeah, with the hellish start in life Logan had at Aaron's hands (literally) and all the rage still simmering underneath, he needed a way to channel and direct it or life would keep on pummeling him senseless. Being Uncle Sam's bitch was a way to learn discipline and hopefully figure out who he was outside of just being the Pixie Spy's shadow. He needed to get in touch with his inner Logan, and other similar Dr. Judy, Judge Phil bullshit—or whatever.

After breakfast was finished, and Logan looked a lot more human and less zombie-esque, Dick got up and grabbed the plastic bag that he'd stuffed his wet suit into after surfing but before picking up breakfast to-go. He hung up the wet clothing, and then detoured into his room to grab his cell. Mackie had texted him a few hours ago, right around when he'd caught his first wave, give/take.

The idea of her on a boat with all those girls made him smile. He wondered if her campaign to pump Vee for more scoop on law school and Logan's Navy plans was successful. It was possible since they were partaking in a full-day of drinking, however, Ronnie was more closed mouthed than her better-half.

Still gripping the phone, Dick went back out into the living room. Logan had found a sand-volleyball game on the television. His gaze seemed to track one particular short blond player with long hair. He definitely had a type. Her resemblance to Ronnie ended at the hair color though. Her big boobs strained against the green bikini of her "uniform" as she jumped into the air to return the serve.

Dick had also grabbed the bottle of Advil, which he wordlessly handed to Logan, who proceeded to palm a handful and wash it down with a gulp of the now-cold coffee. He nodded his thanks and leaned his head back against the couch, presumably waiting for the aspirin to work its mojo on his headache.

While waiting for Logan to finish fully-regenerating, Dick leaned back on the couch, placed his feet on the table, and drafted a text to Mac.

"Aw, it's been several hours since you've had the chance to text your best-half. Afraid she forgot about you?" Logan mocked.

"He speaks. No, that's one fear I don't have. When I was done, um, reminding her of my existence Thursday night, she could hardly walk."

"Ummm, details I didn't need," Logan shut his eyes tightly and put his hands over his ears. "La la la…" He continued in a sing-song voice.

"You asked."

"I plead temporary ignorance."

It got quiet again as they watched the volley ball game on the screen. Though they both remained hopeful, there weren't any wardrobe malfunctions to put a stop to the game.

"You feeling any better now?" Dick asked after a couple of minutes of silence.

"Much," Logan replied.

"You just needed that dog hair," Dick affirmed. "It'll perk you right up, because what you really need is to stop sulking and start practicing your flirting skillz."

"Okay, stop adding "z's" to ends of words, and also my flirting skills are just fine. I have a girlfriend, remember?"

"You were the one crying last night that you two had just broken up."

Logan's insistence that he didn't cry, per se, was ignored by Dick except for the fleeting look of disbelief. "Besides, we didn't break up," he continued to argue his case,"at least not officially official."

"Well, I hate to break it to you, but if Ronnie is definitely going to law school in New York and you'll be leaving for boot camp, I don't know how much more official things have to get. Are there even "I's" left to cross?"

"Or "t's" to dot?" Logan snarked. "I'll be too busy doing 500 pushups a day to flirt."

"Well, you won't be in boot camp forever, and then chicks from all corners of the planet will throw themselves at you. So, this broody shit might work here, but halfway around the world I bet it would be a lot less successful. We need a party, make you forget Ronnie for a few hours."

"If you say 'put some pep in my step' I swear I'll knock you out. Even Veronica would defend me on that charge."

"Duly noted, no steps, no pep, got it. That's not a phrase that will ever pass my lips though, I swear. There are lots of things chicks & beers will cure though. Time tested."

"Says the man-whore."

"Reformed man-whore, or maybe now I'm monogamous man-whore," Dick corrected. He picked up his cell again, and composed another text.

Logan cocked his head in question.

"Just seeing if Mac knows of any parties tonight," Dick answered the unspoken question.

"Right, because she's the social one of your pairing," Logan quipped.

"Her knowledge is vast, plus she might know of a certain bachelor party going on tonight. You remember Pus, right? You're current girlfriend's ex boyfriend," Dick took the hand not holding the phone and waved it back and forth in a so-so motion, "and also your ex-girlfriend's, Parker, current fiancée. You're practically family; your admittance should be guaranteed."

Logan just shook his head, mentally trying to calculate the levels of wrongness in that statement.

As the game on TV went into another set, and all bikinis unfortunately stayed intact, Dick noticed his cell stayed silent, no incoming texts were forthcoming. Mac must have been having a blast on her lake cruise.

****On Lake Tahoe****

If someone had come along and offered Mac a time-machine she would have gladly hopped aboard that sucker and set it for four and a half hours ago, right before they took off on the boat. Well, okay, if pressed she could probably come up with a few other events in her life that, maybe, would have made a higher showing than that, like the whole baby switch and getting a hotel room with Cassidy Casablancas. Still, the point remained, she was regretting the decision to take this cruise, and she was not having a good time.

Mac noticed another flash of lightening off in the distance. It was still quite a bit away, but getting closer to their location. They were still very firmly in 'sitting duck' status.

The rain was continuing its steady downpour.

She continued to jimmy the nuts and mounting screws hoping she could tell if any of them were loose. Unfortunately, there wasn't a flashing frakking neon sign pointing to the culprit (if indeed they were lucky enough for it to be the easy-to-fix problem).

Behind her perch, at the backend of the control panel, Mac heard Veronica and the rest of the girls except her fix-it partner, Amy, and a now-hovering Paige, trying to drown their concern in booze and a time-tested game of "Never Have I Ever."

The various activities ranged from had kids to writing fan fiction, to having a one-night stand, to table dancing. Mac tried to sneak covert glances at who did what, though the thought occurred to her that she and Veronica, together, could own the game of "Never Have I Ever." Their lives provided great source material.

She grabbed the screwdriver that Amy had put on the floor beside her, and turned the first nut to the right, for several turns, until it couldn't go any further. She suspected that was probably the problem one—or hoped it was, anyway. Another flash lit up the sky beyond, then it was followed shortly by a boom of thunder.

"Not to pressure you, or anything," Amy sidled up beside her and whispered in her ear "but I think you need to step this up. The storm is playing catch up and I'd much rather be inside watching from the window."

"Yeah, sign me up for that, too. I work on computers, not boats. Now if my dad were here, that would be a different story," Mac whispered back, but she made a quick pass at each nut and mounting screw. Finally each one was tightened, and throwing down the screwdriver, Mac held out her hand so Amy could help haul her up.

The time between flashes of lightning and the loud cracks of thunder were continuing to decrease.

"Well, here goes nothing," Mac muttered as she took a seat in the Captain's chair, which now contained a river of water from the unrelenting rain. She grabbed the key she'd carelessly tossed on the console and muttering please oh please to herself, she turned the key. It sputtered, and then reluctantly caught.

"Prayer works!" Mac exclaimed, grinning.

The whole cabin applauded, but the clapping and cheering was usurped by a particularly loud clap of thunder.

Paige ran back to the driver's seat, not wanting to risk not being to restart the boat again, and took her place as captain again. Putting the pedal down as far as it could go, hoping to outpace the storm, they traversed the choppy water. The lake formed waves. The storm was on their tail.

Less than a mile from their lake house, the storm was hovering on top of them. Mac could tell they were close to home because she recognized the cedar A-frame house Parker had pointed out at the start of their cruise. A flash of lightning landed near a tree on a neighboring, empty lot. They were close enough to hear a sizzle.

Finally, less than four minutes later the lake house came into view. At first, Mac was afraid it was a mirage, but soon they were pulling up to the dock as the boat bucked the strong current caused by the storm. The huge sprawling house had never looked more beautiful or inviting. Everyone cheered again, they had survived the anything-but relaxing boat trip.

TBC...