A/N: A long overdue update! Enjoy. I'll try to update a wee bit more timely. Thank you for all reviews, follows, favorites, etc. I love hearing from you, reading your theories, etc. Please keep on keeping on with all the reviewage. Many thanks to my wonderful, patient beta cainc3 for catching all my zillions of errors & all her great ideas, too. (Which I run with!)

Obligatory disclaimer: Nope, I don't own anything herein, it's all Rob Thomas' & gang's domain, thanks for letting me go on a playdate with these characters though. I don't own any other pop-culturey reference either.

Chapter 6—Docked

Mac was stretched out on a lounge chair on the massive deck overlooking the now tranquil lake, a glass of champagne perched on the table beside her.

The rain storm of epic proportion had ended less than fifteen minutes after they got back to the house. Now, two hours later, the sun was out, shining down in innocence as if to say, what storm?

She was in clean, dry clothes, and her drink of the alcoholic persuasion was helping to further wash away the stresses. Life would have been absolutely perfect if it weren't for the aching in her left leg, a little souvenir from the boat-cruise from hell. With her tendency to bruise easily she suspected that tomorrow she'd have so many she'd be able to play a game of connect-the-dots, or rather, connect the bruises. She absently reached out hoping to massage out the ache, but the manipulations made it feel worse, so she quickly put the kibosh on those ministrations.

"What makes you think party-line is in my job description?" Mac said into the phone, after the obligatory opening small talk. She'd come back to find a weird text from Dick asking her for a lead on any social functions happening in Neptune this weekend. This was the first chance she'd had all afternoon to give him a call back.

She started laughing less than half-way through Dick's rambling explanation of his plan to join Piz in celebrating the end of his single-dom.

"You want to crash Piz's party?!" she asked, incredulously. She listened as he backtracked a bit, trying to say that label was such an ugly word. "It's the proper term for what you're talking about," Mac reminded him. "I highly doubt you and Logan would be on the groom's guest list."

She listened to him grovel some more. She shook her head, even though he couldn't see the gesture. "Alright, I'll try to covertly shake that intel from Parker, but if you and your partner in crime manage to get arrested, well, I'm not bailing you guys out." She twirled a strand of hair around her finger absently as Dick made a token protest about how he was always the very model of class and decorum. She snorted at that. After volleying that topic back and forth a little longer, Dick changed the subject to her lake-faring adventure.

She recapped the main events of the ride, including Hadley's unplanned swim, the boat stalling out, her stint as boat mechanic, and finally the storm that broke right on top of them.

"I know, I actually paid attention in third grade science class when Mrs. Winters told us that water attracted lightening," Mac snarked to his concerned warning about the dangers of water and lightening. "I can't say that the thunderstorm cruise was on Paige's weekend itinerary. Murphy and his frakking laws decided that things were going too well, so he decided to put a Torque wrench in the whole shindig. Which, by the way, you would be so proud of me, I am now an expert in wrenches." She laughed when he suggested making her the new apartment handy-woman, in conjunction to her existing duties as Chief Technology Officer, of course.

"I have never been so happy to see a hot tub in my life. That is my entire plan for the rest of the evening," Mac grumped, filling the lull in conversation after they'd exhausted the short subject of her tool skill set. "Tying up a 2,500 pound boat to the dock during a thunderstorm is quite the work out. If I ever consider a career change as a Rodeo clown, I'll be well-practiced now in tying up bulls."

She cliff-noted the run-in her upper thigh made with the boat as seven of the twelve girls struggled to secure the boat to the dock. The other five passengers had made a running jump as soon as they'd pulled up to the assigned dock, heading for the shelter of the house not caring that they were ultimately making the job of securing the boat down even more difficult for the rest of them. Hadley, she wasn't surprised to see, was one of the chicken shit defectors.

After finishing the tale of her super-human feats of strength—with only a couple embellishments—Mac attempted to turn the conversation to Logan, and specifically the missing details on why he had decided on joining the Navy. She still hadn't got the cliff notes version of Dick's vodka-soaked gossip session with Logan the previous night.

Dick laid out the reasoning Logan had for that decision making process. Mac noticed he couldn't help putting a dig about Veronica every place he could squeeze it in. She white knuckle gripped the cell at the fifth derogatory comment he made about her BFF in three minutes. "Lay the fuck off, Dick," she said at last. "Logan isn't exactly the virginal, white, picture of innocence when it comes to their relationship."

She took the phone off her ear for a second at Dick's loud scoff.

They long ago had found the need to agree to disagree on the sordid Logan and Veronica coupledom topic. Those two drama magnets seemed to be striving for the title of most on-again/off-again relationships, she fully expected The Guinness Book of World Records people to be calling them at any moment.

Let them have that title, Mac was more than content to be in an even keeled relationship, the fact that Dick was her partner in that still amazed her. Five years ago she'd never had believed that one of the biggest assholes of Neptune High would ever have matured enough to be in a stable relationship, but then again in that time frame he hadn't yet had his entire family life implode. Those losses, and the guilt he never quit feeling about his brother, pulled at him. She didn't really believe he consciously chose to mature; it just kind of became a side-effect of the pain he went through. It softened his rough edges, but several traces of the old Dick remained, too, of course. Truth be told, at this point, she wouldn't want it any other way.

She smiled softly at his quick apology. It was an automated response of his to apologize at the slightest bit of censure she gave him. He obviously didn't agree with her opinion that Logan wasn't innocent in the whole endeavor either, but upon doing a risk/benefit analysis he decided it was better to concede the point to Mac. Not that she was keeping score or anything.

They talked a few more minutes, making a concentrated effort to avoid anymore mention of their mutual best friends and the newborn tension between them. Finally, reluctantly, they said their good-byes and exchanged another round of 'I Love You's. She hit end on her cell and plopped it down on the table beside her chair. She grabbed the glass of champagne and took a big sip.

The sun was now out, throwing sparkles on the blue-green water of the lake. A speed boat cruised by, its wake rippling the still water. All signs of earlier discord caused by the storm were gone. However, to Mac, it didn't appear that was the case at all on the deck. Mia and Paige were over by the fire pit not really arguing, but neither of them looked happy either. Hadley was on the other side of the deck, sucking down her own glass of champagne, and appeared to be brooding about some such shit that didn't truthfully hold much interest for Mac.

She scanned the crowd looking for Veronica or Parker, but didn't find either of them. She took another drink of champagne, and then set the glass back on the table. The resounding thud was louder than she intended because the glass was almost empty. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes against the strong sun. A bird chirped in the distance.

She didn't fall asleep, not enough time had elapsed for that, but she was in a deeply relaxing state, the champagne being at least partially responsible for that.

"Party foul!"

She opened her eyes to see Parker brandishing a full bottle of champagne. She poured a generous amount in Mac's glass as she chastised her for that bachelorette weekend induced sin.

"Are you channeling Dick?"

Parker grinned and took a big drink from the bottle before replying. "I've been to enough Casablancas bacchanalias to learn the lingo."

"What a good student you're proving to be. I'll give Professor Party a good report. Hey, speaking of my other half," Mac began.

"Worse half," Parker automatically corrected. Mac just glared and Parker held her hands up in mock-surrender. "What? So I stole a page from Veronica's book," she continued, justifying.

"Anyway," Mac continued, figuring her non-verbal censure was sufficient, "I spoke with Dick and I guess they're trawling for things to do tonight."

"They?"

"Dick and Logan."

"Of course," Parker said quickly. "They could volunteer their time in a homeless shelter." She giggled and took another swig from the bottle.

"They were wondering what plans Piz, and we're assuming Wallace, have tonight, and by they, I actually mean Dick."

"Naturally. Tonight is Piz's bachelor party, or what passes for that in Piz-land."

Mac laughed. "You're wasted."

"It's strictly accumulative effect," Parker explained before downing another third of the bottle in one monster gulp.

Mac shook her head and decided not to waste her breath on that subject. "So what passes for a bachelor party in Piz-land, to borrow your phrasing?"

"His definition of saying sayonara to his bachelor days is drinking beer and listening to that washed out, semi-alcoholic has-been rocker, Desmond Fellows. Piz still stays in touch with him after all these years. He's performing his new stuff at Velvet Underground. Wallace tried to talk him into strippers afterwards, at least, but nope, 'just music and hanging with his buds.' I didn't see the latest guest list, but I'm fairly certain Dick and Logan aren't on that list."

"Eh," Mac said dismissively, "Wallace can keep them in line." Then she shook her head as though trying to shake some sense into herself, which was actually what she was trying to do. "I don't know why I'm pimping on their behalf. I'll just share the intel and leave them to their own devices."

"That's brave."

"Or stupid…" Mac said, tapping her chin with her finger.

"Or that." Parker was quick to agree. She was starting to sway a little.

"Sit down drunky, before you keel over," Mac invited with a smirk.

"I'm not," Parker asserted, but sat down in the chair across from Mac anyway. She almost missed, but was able to catch herself before crashing down to the hard deck.

Mac laughed so hard that a snort escaped, which made Parker join in as well.

"So," Mac said when they'd both calmed down, "where's Veronica?"

"Oh, girl, that's what I meant to tell you. I'd stay clear of your room for awhile. She called Logan, or he called her, and they're talking, and by talking I mean they're yelling."

"They're talking on the phone? How does that work?"

"And you say I'm the drunk one," Parker said indignantly. "Well, you take your index finger and dial a 10 digit number, in the case of an out of area code number, then it rings on the other side, and then, if you're lucky, or not I guess, the other person answers. You say hello, and the phone call continues." She went through the steps one by one in an exaggeratedly patient voice, in what Mac called her "Kindergarten teacher voice."

"No," Mac said, "I meant, how could Veronica call Logan, or receive his call, when her cell phone is tucked in her suitcase which is still listed as MIA. My phone is here with me."

"Oh, that. The suitcase is back. It rang the doorbell about a half-hour ago."

"The suitcase rang the doorbell?" Mac inquired, raising her eye-brow.

"Well, it had some help. Suitcase's don't have hands, you know."

"Nor legs," Mac added. "Thanks for the anatomy lesson. Back to the important part of your earlier sentence, Veronica and Logan are conversing?" She felt they'd exhausted the subject of walking, knocking suitcases.

"If you can even call it that."

"Okay," Mac amended, "Logan and Veronica are fighting."

"Yes," Parker affirmed even though it wasn't really a question.

"Should I go in there and check on her?"

"Do you value your limbs? I'd give her some space honestly. Stay out here and drink with me." Parker backed up that invitation with a big swallow out of the bottle.

"Maybe you should slow down a little," Mac suggested. She ignored the glare she was gifted with at that advice, and pointed at the bottle. It had been full when Parker gave her own glass a healthy refill, now however it was down to barely a fourth remaining.

Parker shrugged. "It's my party…"

"And you'll drink if you want to," Mac finished. She was worried about Vee though, remembering the gaps Dick had filled in about what was going on between their mutual besties.

Quiet reigned between them for a couple minutes as Parker continued her champagne bottle quest and Mac idly rubbed the area around her still aching leg. She was definitely going to stake out some real estate in the hot tub after their grill out. Reaching her hand out, she felt for her phone on the side table. Making contact with it, she scooped it up, scrolling through the contact menu until she found Dick's listing.

Hey hot stuff—you can get your party-on tonite at Velvet Undergound. Piz's 'wild night' consists of beer and bands with Wallace.

With the results of her scouting mission with Parker reported, Mac set the cell back down, and tried to muster the energy to get up so she could risk life and limb to cross the frontlines to check on Veronica. After all, it's what friends did.

****Dick & Mac's apartment, Saturday night***

"Move your ass, Echolls," Dick yelled, even though Logan was only sitting a couple feet away.

"This is a terrible idea," Logan said softly, for roughly the thousandth time in the past two hours.

"No, it's not. It's Piz's version of a Bachelor party. What could possibly go wrong?" Dick asked, using air quotes.

"Oh shit, you just had to go there, didn't you?" Logan said, leaning down and covering his head.

Dick took in the protective stance and gave him an inquiring look.

"I'm just protecting my head for when you get smite-ed." Logan explained. "It's called tempting fate." He sat back up again, obviously deciding the lightening would strike later rather than sooner.

"Seriously, we're talking Piz here. He wouldn't know a party if it bit him on his ass. We need to liven things up a bit, it's like community service and shit."

"Do you have any idea what a weird situation this is?"

"Yes. Now get ready, we're leaving in ten minutes. Put a little pep in your step," Dick said. This time he was the one in need of protection, but he didn't have time to cower before Logan had reached across the couch to smack him upside the head.

"What the hell?"

"I told you earlier that I wouldn't be responsible for the beat down I gave you if you said 'put some pep in my step.'"

"Uncle, I call Uncle," Dick cried out, putting up his hands, in front of his face, in a surrender gesture. He hauled up off the couch before Logan could implement another attack and headed towards his bedroom for some requisite grooming. "I mean it, we're leaving in ten minutes," he called back over his shoulder. Then shut the door to his room.

After a quick shower and changing into his 'Party Back to 1999' tee shirt Mackie had recently bought him, Dick was ready to go. He went back out to the living room to find that Logan hadn't made one move to get ready. The only real hint that he'd moved at all was the full bottle of beer in his hand, and the fact the TV was tuned to an old Clint Eastwood movie.

Dick didn't say a word as he went over to his friend; he just pulled him up and not-so-gently pushed him towards the door.

"An hour," Logan muttered, acquiescing. "Maximum of an hour, and if you see me pulling my ear, it's your cue to leave," he continued setting the grounds rules as he pulled out of Dick's grasp and made his way out the door under his own locomotion.

"Pull your ear?"

"Yes, like in that book you like so much, Garden State." Logan still teased Dick for ever thinking that Zach Braff movie from 2004 had been a book.

"I still think it should have been a book," Dick defended. He shut the front door behind them and locked up.

"Then Natalie Portman wouldn't have been in it," Logan said as they walked down the flights of stairs leading to the parking lot of the apartment complex.

"True. I still probably would've pictured her though."

"Naked."

"Natch! Now, remind me, why are we talking about this subject?"

"They were meeting his friends and decided to come up with a signal in case Natalie's character wanted to leave early."

"Okay, dude, the fact that you know that scares me. You need to give your girl card back, exchange it for your balls."

"What? Veronica likes it, says it's a great example of film-making. She hopes Zach makes a follow up to it one of these years."

"Yeah, good luck getting funding for that. Maybe he can set up tin cans and collect donations," Dick snarked. They'd reached his truck. He dug in his pocket for the keys and punched the unlock button on his key fob. It beeped.

Less than ten minutes later, and three conversational subject changes, they pulled into the parking lot of the Velvet Underground.

Dick was a little surprised to see how crowded the bar was, especially since it was only 9:30, but then it was a holiday weekend, so he decided that was a logical explanation.

The narrow stage in the front of the darkened arena was illuminated. A dark haired guy sat on a stool singing into the microphone in front of him. He was whining about black cats, bad luck and bloodied hearts, or some shit like that.

Dick had met him at a party briefly freshman year at Hearst, before Mackie had saved him, IE they started dating. The douche had dated a lot of hot chicks. Rumor was, like most people eventually, even man-whores like them, he'd settled down and was dating Grace, an associate professor of Chinese at Hearst. It brought him back to Neptune a lot. Mac had downloaded a couple of the dude's new stuff, including A State of Grace, which though was still a little whiny, even Dick had to admit wasn't too bad. It didn't make his ears bleed or anything, which was more than he could say for the other crap that Mac tried to label as music like Indigo Girls or The Smiths.

He scanned the room and on the opposite end saw a big table with a shaggy haired poindexter sitting at the head; he figured it was probably Piz. The guy on his other side, facing Dick's direction, was definitely Wallace, Ronnie's male BFF and brother from another mother. As they got closer, Dick noticed Wallace was the only non-nerd sitting there drinking beer and nodding their heads to the music. The other four dudes looked like escapees from the chess club, and they were dressed in flannel, channeling the grunge band craze circa the 1990s.

Dick nodded in the general direction of Piz's table, and they both headed that direction. In unison, they grabbed two empty chairs and pulled them up to the table, forcing the nerd herd to move over.

"Hi!" Dick said, looking at Wallace. "We heard a rumor that you had a wild night planned to put an end to Piss' singlehood. I know my invitation got lost in the mail."

"Piz," the guest of honor corrected through gritted teeth.

"That's what I said, Piss."

"Alright, you can stay," Wallace said, a gleam in his eye, "but drinks are on you the rest of the night. You guys need to earn your keep." He waved his hand towards Piz as he said it, batting away any argument the groom-to-be was about to make.

Up on stage Desmond was slurring something into the microphone about marriage, and balls in a vise grip, an antiquated notion that was invented when the average lifespan was only 33 years. Dick smirked, knowing that up until Mackie schooled him on how good a relationship could be, he used to say that same kind of shit.

He pulled his attention back to the introductions Piss was reluctantly making. He caught the name of one member of the flannel geek brigade, Cameron, the others just blended together.

"This is Logan, and Dick, our friends', Veronica and Mac's inferior halves," Wallace said to Cameron and the rest of the chess team.

"I never understood the rules of chess," Dick added conversationally, after politely exchanging a greeting with each of the nerd clones.

Cameron, who appeared to be the leader, didn't say anything; he just grabbed his mug of draught beer, poured the last of the pitcher into it, and took a big gulp like he needed fortification to get through the whole evening. Dick knew the feeling well.

"That was random," Piz remarked.

Logan smiled though and nudged him with an elbow; he appeared to understand what Dick was thinking.

"Shots," Wallace clarified. "When I said drinks are on you, I meant the hard stuff."

Recognizing a good idea when they heard it, Dick and Logan excused themselves and headed back to the bar, taking the now empty pitcher with them as well. It was probably to get rid of them, but again, it was still a good plan regardless of any ulterior motives. Before walking out of earshot Dick grinned as he heard Wallace telling Piss he hadn't invited anyone else other than the chess squad.

There was a hot bartender working that night—she was short, with black hair save for one streak of what looked like pink but was hard to tell for sure in the glow of the neon beer sign behind her. She had Harry Potter glasses and big boobs. He had a type now, a post-Mackie type, but still it worked for him. Though he enjoyed the view, it made him glad the weekend was more than half-way over.

They ordered a round of Purple Motherfuckers, Devirginators, and 3 Dollar Hookers, Logan put the kibosh on the Flaming Dr. Peppers however. Geez, he set fire to one bar—in his defense it was a minor fire, it was quickly put out with an extinguisher—and the mo-fo never let him live it down.

The hottie bartender was almost done with the drinks when some meathead from the other side of the bar started shouting, capturing Dick's attention.

"Hurry up Hermoine," the obnoxious guy started yelling. He had a crew cut and his head was pretty much just set on his shoulders, there wasn't a neck to be seen.

"Her name is Rachel," Dick yelled back. "Have some respect." At least that was what her boobs were called, based on the nametag she was wearing.

Logan raised his brow.

"What? I'm a gentleman."

"I didn't say a word," Logan rejoined.

"You didn't have to, I'm fluent in reading you, like fucking War and Peace, dude."

"What's it about?"

"What is this, English class?"

"Okay, then who wrote it?"

"Tolstoy," Dick said, smirking triumphantly.

"Spell it."

Dick extended his middle finger instead, and was about to expand on the subject when the bartender asked for $151 for all the shots and the pitcher refill they threw in there, too. Logan dug around his wallet and pulled out a black Amex.

"You're next," he told Dick, handing over his card.

Rachel smiled. "We don't get many of these." She got a tray and made quick work of transferring all 24 shot glasses onto it. "Bring the glasses back when you're finished, boys, or we'll have a riot on our hands."

"Well, we wouldn't want that," Logan said, smiling at her. He grabbed the tray, carefully balancing it, while Dick carried the pitcher. They slowly made their way through the bar, weaving their way around friends congregating by the tables, drunk girls stumbling towards the restroom, and guys trying to remember their phone numbers to hand them out like souvenirs to said drunk girls. They had finally almost reached their destination when the same neck-less, jock asshole, that had been rude to the geeky-hot bartender, walked right in front of Logan, who had been more focused on Desmond singing about 'being one in a million.'

Only later would it occur to Dick how ironic that line actually was.

The whole tray tipped forward, raining expensive liquor all over the jerk.

Logan hadn't even been able to mutter out an apology, or more likely a watch where you walk, asshole, when a meaty fist was connecting with his nose. Dick cringed at Logan's grunt of pain, and retaliated by dumping the pitcher of beer on the instigator.

***Back at the lake house, Saturday night 10PM***

"I just, I don't know Mac-attack, I just really thought he'd stay in Neptune, and be waiting for me when I graduated. Columbia has one of the best law programs in the country," Veronica was saying. She reached her hand out from the water of the hot tub to feel around for her cup of red wine. Making contact with it, she picked it up and took a sip of the alcohol.

"That's awfully presumptive of you, don't you think?" Mac asked gently. She didn't want to piss Vee off, especially since she was finally opening up a little bit.

"No. Maybe. Probably," she admitted, then sighed.

"Why do you have to break up when he goes to boot camp?"

"We'll never see each other. I don't want to break up, I really don't." Veronica's voice got a little plaintive at the end, "but at least with law school there are vacations, and summer break. Logan won't get any of that in the Navy."

"There's email, Skype, this little invention called the phone, especially when you don't pack the phone away in your luggage."

"Will you ever quit teasing me about that?"

"Hmm," Mac said as though in deep thought. She tapped a finger to her head, "maybe on August 31st, 2025."

"I'll need you to sign on the dotted line."

"You're already sounding like a lawyer," Mac grumped. She splashed Veronica, who retaliated. Pretty soon the hot tub was starting to resemble a wave pool.

The water fight was brought to a halt by a look of censure from Mia, the group's token mom. She was by the fire pit talking to the now-sober Parker, as well as Paige, Amy and Cee-Cee.

They were the only ones currently taking up residence in the spa, though the majority of the girls were out on the deck. It was a cool night, but the temperature between the steam from the hot tub and the fire going strong in the fire-pit kept it very comfortable. Mac was still full from the cookout. Paige had turned out to be an excellent grill-chef, the veggie burger was perfect. Dick usually made everything cajun-ed when he fired up the grill they'd managed to squeeze onto the balcony of their apartment. She wondered what he was up to.

Mac reached her right hand back behind her. She found her own glass of champagne, and took a big sip. The bubbles tickled her nose, which caused her to sneeze twice in a row.

"Bless you," Veronica said.

"Thanks," Mac said. She was about to bring up the subject of Logan again when suddenly Veronica spoke, cutting through her ruminations.

"Keep your glass in your hand," she instructed. "Let's play full-contact, no holds-barred 'I Never.'"

"Full contact?" Mac asked. "Like I can wrestle you if I don't want to answer?"

"No," Veronica clarified, "it just means anything goes."

The sound of the sliding door opening made Mac turn around and look. She saw Hadley come out, a glass in one hand, her phone in the other. Between the fire, Paige's' collection of festive lanterns, and the outdoor lights attached to the siding of the house it was almost as bright as daylight. She plopped down in a chair to the left of the hot tub, and focused her attention on the phone. Mac assumed she was probably texting Ratner. The possibility of her sexting Ratner was nausea inducing.

"I Never Neptune edition," Mac amended.

"Perfect. I'll kick it off. I never sold results from the Purity Test."

Hadley looked up sharply, but quickly looked back down at the screen when she saw Mac staring at her.

Mac took a big sip and grinned. "I never busted a Federal Agent's undercover sting operation."

It was Veronica's turn to drink.

"I never ran an ass-rating website."

Mac drank and racked her brain for another I Never statement. "I never made out on the balcony of the Camelot."

Veronica smirked before taking a dainty sip of wine, as though pacing herself. "I never had sex with Neptune's biggest man whore, Dick Casablancas."

Mac took a sip, then looked over and saw that Hadley had set down her phone, and took a sip of her drink as well. She made eye contact with Mac, put the glass down and said "Oh, I'm sorry; I didn't know this was a private game."

-TBC…

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