Chapter 9

Drowning

10:30 am Wednesday September 5

It's a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky. However, Veronica can't appreciate it, as she's currently having a minor freakout over a car seat in the back of her fathers hulk of a van. Naomi, whose seated inside the safety contraption, is highly amused as Veronica curses under her breath for what feels like the fiftieth time. She can assemble a gun at record pace, but this thing deserves a class of its own.

Admitting defeat Veronica sheepishly leans across the car and sticks her head out of the open door. "I've never been very good at this," she admits, eyes pleading for help. Jackie is still in her pajamas, sipping coffee as she sits on the stone steps of her porch. Torn between annoyance and amusement. This whole event had been pitched by her husband as an effort to cheer Veronica up. There had also been something about a morning off for her. But of course neither of them had factored in Veronica's complete incompetence when it came to children.

Jackie crosses the driveway, her silk robe catching slightly in the breeze. "It just takes practice," Jackie replies graciously as she straps Naomi expertly and in barely ten seconds.

"I wasn't talking about the car seat," Veronica mumbles, pushing her sunglasses higher up on the bridge of her nose.

"She doesn't mind," Jackie answers back, kissing her sleepy daughter on her chubby cheek before taking a step away from the car and regarding Veronica, "If you don't want to go you can say so."

Veronica hesitates, biting her lip as she stares at the mother, "What if I drop her?"

Jackie smiles, leaning down to pick up the leather diaper bag and hand it to Veronica, "You're not going to drop her."

"What if she cries?" Veronica replies, coming up with another question immediately.

"It's not an if it's a when," Jackie laughs, squeezing the brunette's arm before heading back towards the front door, hesitating to add over her shoulder with a devilish smile, "You're gonna be fine. If I can do it at seventeen, you can handle it for three hours pushing thirty."

"I am not pushing thirty," Veronica hisses to Jackie's retreating form.

"Have a good morning Auntie Veronica," Jackie calls from the house before closing the door.

Veronica sighs, glancing at Naomi, who is fighting to keep her eyes open. After a moment of contemplation she closes the backseat door and heads to the front of the car. She has a million things on her mind, but right now anxiety overwhelms all her other worries.

She's handling it though. As usual repression is the best strategy. She turns the key in the ignition and backs out of the driveway.

11:00 am Wednesday September 5

"Okay kid, it's just you and me."

Naomi sits in what can only be described as a little raft. There are holes for her legs and extra padding to support her back. Her bathing suit is pink with white polk a dots and her dark chocolate eyes fixate on Veronica's face. One hand is stuck in her little mouth and the other is playing with the blunt edges of Veronica's long hair.

Veronica is clad in a green bikini and is clutching the baby tightly as she eyes the suddenly foreboding kiddie pool. There are about ten other mom's smiling at her encouragingly but she doesn't let Naomi go even after they've safely trailed into the deeper end, up to Veronica's waist. Her heart pounds irrationally, sure she'll screw it up, thinking of all the ways this can go wrong.

"It never gets easier," the mother nearest to her whispers with a polite smile. Her eyes flashing in commiseration, assuming she's talking to another mom. Her own son's chubby legs kick through the clear water as he sits in a floatie identical to Naomi's. Veronica nods, feigning what she hopes comes across as understanding. The truth is she doesn't know what's happening, why this is so hard for her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows it has something to do with control. Relinquishing it and retaining it. How everything seems to go sideways the very moment she lets go even fractionally.

Slowly, ever so slightly she lowers the baby towards the water. Naomi gets sick of her pace as soon as her toes dip into the pool. She flails wildly, begging to make her own decisions, and Veronica relents, her legs slackening as she allows them both to sink into the water.

Naomi giggles against Veronica's stomach where Veronica is still holding her, flotation device and all. She's a natural and her legs kick, pinwheeling small circles as she breaks into another fit of laughter. Veronica can't help but smile. The tension in her shoulder receding as she finally lets the baby hover in the water independently.

Naomi goes crazy, hands splashing and eyes sparkling. "Hey look at that," the friendly mom observes, "most of them cry for at least the first ten minutes. Always freaked out by something so new. Looks like you've got a fearless one of your hands."

And Veronica does look. Almost immediately Naomi inadvertently splashes water in her eyes, a consequence of her own reckless abandon. For a moment she falters, hesitating as she appraises the water with newfound caution. But then her tiny fist comes down, and she dissolves into laughter again as the droplets splatter everywhere.

Veronica grins, whole body relaxing, "Looks like."

12:00 pm Wednesday September 5

He had long ago accepted that Mac doesn't really understand the concept of a day off. She is supposed to be taking the next week and a half to focus on the wedding and then their honeymoon but, as usual, it isn't exactly working out. She's been up since six and now sits curled up in an arm chair furiously typing an email on her laptop. She's barefoot in dark jeans and a tight concert T shirt from some indie band concert she'd dragged him to a few months ago. He's taking his vacation a bit more seriously, still in last night's sweat pants lounging on the couch eating pretzels right out of the bag.

"Babe," he starts suddenly as the cop procedural he'd half been paying attention to goes to commercial. He startles her out of her trance, and she looks up at him with slightly widened eyes, "what did you think about my theory last night?"

She bites her lip, trying to recall their conversation from the night before and drawing a blank. But she still smiles in anticipation, because Dick's theories are usually pretty interesting, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

He flips off the TV, focusing his full attention as he prompts, "Come on, my theory. We talked about it right after I got home last night."

Her amused smile widens as she remembers the vivid details, explaining fondly, "Dick, you weren't wearing pants and it was after one o'clock in the morning. I was tired, pissed, and then preoccupied because I wasn't wearing pants."

Dick cracks a grin of his own, shrugging in mock innocence as he points out, "You seemed to be paying pretty good attention after that."

She rolls her eyes, disregarding his innuendo and keeping them on track, "Anything you said before I was naked wasn't retained. You're gonna need to elaborate hun."

"I think Logan and Veronica should get back together," he states calmly, like it's the simplest thing in the world.

Mac blinks, then takes a deep breath as she slowly shuts her laptop and sets it on the coffee table. Her elbows comes to rest on her knees as she sets her chin on top of her interlaced fingers and regards him intently,"Dick, Veronica and Logan are in a very delicate place right now. I don't think it's a good idea for you to get involved."

"That's basically what Logan said," Dick relents with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair frustratedly, finding it hard to meet her eye's suddenly. Guilty that he's even bringing this already glaring problem to her attention during what's supposed to be a period of relaxation. Even after all this time it still unnerves him to find himself caring so much. About anything. Let alone a girl. This girl. He regains his footing and begins rambling, "But babe I'm fairly confident that we have to get those two blissed out instead of pissed off in order to keep the wedding together. I've developed a couple strategies-"

He doesn't realize she's moved from her chair until she's in front of him. Falling into his lap, her legs straddle him on the couch and effectively steal any coherent words he'd been about to speak. She smiles at him affectionately as he stares up at her in bewilderment. "Hey crazy," she murmurs, one arm curling around his neck and the other resting at his jaw, fingers concentrating on the hard curve and the twitching adam's apple below, "Are you going to be at our wedding?"

His hands, flustered at her legs, finally trail up her thighs and come to rest comfortably on her hips as he pretends to contemplate with quizzical eyes, "I was kind of planning on it yeah."

She lowers her forehead until it's resting against his own, gaze clear and cheerful despite her resolute notions, "Well I was thinking about showing up too. And as long as we both get down the aisle and say 'I do' nothing else matters," she kisses him quickly, pulling away to demand sweetly, "Stop obsessing about perfect. I don't need it. I just need you."

She pauses, glancing down a bit sheepishly, knowing the lines are pretty much verbatim from every lame romantic comedy she's ever seen. Too busy to notice that he's watching her. Can't seem to stop as she waits for him to respond. To answer back with something witty or silly to lighten the mood. But, as happens too often when she goes serious on him, he chokes. Two sentences leaving him absolutely speechless. He tilts her chin instead, forcing her to look at him as he draws her close and kisses her, slow and with what he hopes is the implication that she is amazing. Perfection as far as he can see.

He is about to lose his mind, hand under her shirt hovering at the small of her back, when her phone starts vibrating on the coffee table. "Shit," she murmurs against his mouth, wincing as she attempts to break away.

"Oh no way," he answers immediately, devious smile firmly in place as he affords her only a few inches of space, hands gripping her legs resolutely, "You can't say stuff like that and not expect repercussions." With a waggle of his eyebrows he flips them, trapping her between him and the couch and eliciting a high pitched squeal from his bride to be. Her phone is forgotten immediately.

"Piz and Parker will be here soon for lunch," she murmurs almost incoherently as he begins to concentrate all his powers of distraction on her neck.

Her fingers are fisted in his hair, and he glances at the watch slung low on her wrist for the time."Forty five minutes," he replies, distractedly as his mouth once again finds it mark and his hands resume their travels up her shirt. "I can work with that," he whispers into her skin. But she's not listening anymore.

12:30 pm Wednesday September 5

"How was she?" Jackie asks as she greets Veronica at the door. Her daughter is napping against Veronica's shoulder, thumb stuck in her mouth.

Veronica smiles as she hands over the infant after kissing the top of her head, "Great. She was great Jackie."

Jackie beams, moving out of the way so Veronica can set the car seat and diaper bag inside the foyer. "Do you want to stay for lunch?" Jackie asks casually, "I could make you a sandwich."

Veronica glances up, hesitating for only a split second, "I'd love to."

3:00 pm Wednesday September 5

He isn't thinking about it. Really he's not. Except that his fingers drum against his leg whenever he tries to concentrate and he's done more laps in his pool then read lines in any of the piles of scripts accumulated on his desk. He's decided she probably isn't coming. That it was stupid to leave the message or hold out hope in the first place.

He has his headphones on and is twitching on a barstool in his kitchen with the outline of what promises to be a terrible action flick balanced on his knees when he sees the man standing in front of his sliding doors. Slowly, ever so slowly he pulls out the earbuds, eyes fixed on the shadowed intruder under the awning of his deck. "Maria?" he calls, although he is well aware the figure is not his four foot nothing middle aged polish maid.

The man opens the porch door and steps into the light and Logan recognizes him immediately from the surveillance photos. Daniel Jameson. "How the hell did you get in here?" he hisses. His eyes focusing on the weapon Daniel's holding in his right hand. A pistol that glints in the sunlight trailing in from his kitchen's skylight.

"You've given your gate code to a lot of women Logan," the man smirks, "It didn't take that much to get one of your more bitter visitors to give it up."

Logan barely register the explanation, he's too busy trying to figure out a way to end this situation that doesn't involve him with a bullet wound. "What do you want Daniel?" he asks, sure to keep his voice in perfect control.

"You know what I want Echolls. We had a deal," is Jameson's tight reply as his eyes flare with rage.

If he gets through this Logan is going to kill Weevil. With his bare fucking hands. "My associate made a mistake," Logan explains calmly, "I never intended to renege on our agreement. You'll find the money in your account shortly."

"Why should I trust you?" Danny asks with a frown, tone serious.

Logan can't help but snort, eyes glinting and razor sharp, "What other choice do you have?"

Danny glances down at the gun in his hand, smirk returning, "I can think of a few."

3:03 pm Wednesday September 5

The blue sundress isn't meant to impress. She has limited wardrobe options since her possessions are still in transit from New York City. It's a perk that it's her prettiest casual dress. Just a coincidence really.

She is showered and has put in the effort of lipstick when she pulls up to Logan's gate and types in his code. Lunch with Jackie had slowly turned into an hour and a half of talking and she is still nervous that after making him wait her arrival won't be quite as well received as the message described. The doors open slowly and she drums her fingers on the wheel as she waits.

She knows something is wrong as soon as she pulls up the driveway. Even Logan is too cautious to leave the gate to his back yard flung open. He is no longer openly hostile to paparazzi, but he's generally protective of his personal life. He keeps his doors and gates locked religiously, a habit of childhood.

There is a car she doesn't recognize in the driveway.

She opens her Dad's glove compartment, where he keeps his service weapon when he's off duty. Alicia doesn't like the gun in the house with Darrell so it's kept in the locked car in the garage when her dad is home. She knows she's probably being irrational, but if there's one thing she learned as an agent it's too trust her instincts. She double checks that the safety is on and slips the gun into her purse.

She doesn't know her way around Logan's house. Has only been there once and it was in the middle of the night. She hears two voices coming from the back of the house and walks slowly towards them. She stops short when she hears a crash and then sounds of a struggle. The gun is in her hands immediately as she speeds through the living room and down a long hallway.

She steps into the kitchen just in time to see Logan crash to the floor bleeding from his head. A man stands above him, blonde hair and built like a brick wall, he has a fresh black eye and a gun. Veronica's heart lurches into her throat as he bellows, "That's enough." His hand is shaky and she can tell he's not comfortable with the pistol he holds, but he's still raising it to point at Logan's chest.

Her response is automatic, she clicks the safety off her father's gun and cocks it, aiming at the intruder. "Drop your weapon," she commands.

Both men whirl, Logan curses while the stranger's eyes widen like he's seen a ghost. "You look just like her," he murmurs, transfixed, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I was invited," she hisses at this man she is almost positive she has never met but who seems to be familiar with her, "And I'm guessing you weren't. Now drop the gun."

"Veronica I can handle this," Logan hisses from the floor. His eyes are fixed on where the man's gun is now trained, no longer at him but pointing down near Veronica's legs.

"Oh it looks like it Logan," she snaps back, eyes never leaving the man's as she reaches across Logan's marble counter top for his house phone. "Drop the gun now," she repeats as her small fingers type in 911 without looking down, "Or I will shoot you."

This seems to shock the man out of his trance, as he sees her dialing he immediately turns and focuses his gun back on Logan, "Make the call and I'll kill him."

"No you won't," she remarks calmly, unfortunately she's been trained to deal with this exact situation. Her face is blank even though her heart is slamming against her ribs like it wants to escape, "You'd be dead before your finger even twitches."

Logan's jaw clenches as he watches her, unable to decide how he feels about this turn of events. Mostly he's glad the gun is no longer pointed in even her genial direction. It's actually much more comforting to contemplate his death then hers. They are in this position because he has been trying to protect her. He can't even think about it ending in her death. Nope, he closes his eyes for a split second, not going to think about it.

Despite her tough talk Veronica remains frozen, unable to force herself to complete the call. The man grins at her hesitation, "Something tells me you aren't as confident as you seem." He takes a deep breath and looks at her, explaining calmly, "Here's the deal: I'm going to walk out of here. And you're going to let me or this is going to get bloody for all of us."

She glances at Logan, whose face is draining of color as blood pours from his scalp, his eyes are hard and unreadable. She knows that if she allows this situation to remain at an impasse for much longer he will do something irreparably stupid. So she makes the decision for both of them. "Go," she whispers.

He heads towards the kitchen door without even a glance at Logan. But hesitates as he passes her, smile arrogant, "If you ever see Leanne again, tell her Danny says thanks for such a great story."

Veronica's mind races but her face holds no emotion as he continues on. She turns with him, refusing to let him out of her sight until he is out of the kitchen, through the living room, and slamming the front door closed. She locks it behind him and draws in a shuddering breath, resting her head on the thick wood. After a moment her grip on the gun relaxes and it drops to the floor with a clatter.

"Veronica," Logan calls, sounding closer then he should. Her eyes fly open as she realizes that just because he's bleeding and bruised doesn't mean he won't try to follow her. She turns immediately, finding him in the hallway staggering towards her, blood on his hands and on the walls.

She stares at him dazed for a split second, their eyes stuck together in a thick haze of relief and confusion. She wants to demand answers, but is kind enough to know now is not the time. "Veronica," he repeats, trying to take another step towards her and stumbling, cursing as he catches himself with a palm stretched towards the wall.

She moves then. "I'm fine," she whispers as she wraps an arm around his waist and leads them back into the kitchen where he practically falls into a barstool. She calls the cops on his house phone even though he opens his mouth to protest. While she reports the crime clinically into the phone he locates his cell in the pocket of his jeans and contacts Nadine.

She grabs paper towels while she speaks, the phone caught between her ear and shoulder. Without asking she circles Logan, pressing them to the wound on his head from behind. He hisses, breaking off mid sentence, but then relaxes into her grip, his head resting against her collar bone as she works to staunch his injury.

He's still talking when she hangs up the phone, announcing quietly that the authorities are on their way. Logan's hands drum on the counter as he spars with Nadine. She's just as curious as his agent but knows from past experience that the lines Logan feeds Nadine aren't always accurate. She'll wait until later to get the whole story out of him.

His nervous tick, however, she can't abide. It's making her anxious, upping her heart rate. So being sure to keep the pressure on his head she leans forward and laces their finger together with her free hand. Logan's words trail off yet again but he relents for the second time.

After a moment he squeezes her hand reassuringly, and she can't help but let out a deep breath.

4:30 pm Wednesday September 5

They have been through with lunch for quite some time when Mac's phone rings. She and Parker are on their way for the blonde's dress fitting, chatting about the wedding reception.

She answers without looking at the caller ID, "Hey hun, what's up?"

Immediately the smile drops off of Mac's face. The brunette's eyes widen, her mouth eventually falling open in horror, "You have got to be kidding me."

Please review! Writing this chapter was exhausting and I want to know what you think! Plus feedback makes my day.