Hope you enjoy the fluff because we're about to hit some major angst in the chapters to come!

Chapter 15

Aftershocks

8:00 am Friday September 7

"Oh god I'm dying."

She rockets from the bed with surprising agility and is in the bathroom in the time it takes for him to blink, slamming the door in a way that makes his head hum in an extremely atrocious way. He follows her. It almost kills him but he does. Stumbles into the bathroom just as she's flushing the toilet and wiping her mouth with what he's sure is tearfully expensive hand towel.

"Yes please just stare at me," she groans, leaning her back the wall as she tries to catch her breath, "like this isn't traumatizing enough without you witnessing it." Her legs are pulled into her chest, dark hair falling across her sick, pale face. It's not her finest moment.

He doesn't reply. He actually might still be a little drunk, he just hands her a glass of water and goes into the closet for a robe since she is still wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and a bra. She's pulling herself up when he wraps the robe over her shoulders. She has an elastic and she uses it to pull the messy strands up on the crown of her head. "I would kiss you but it would be gross," she remarks with a halfhearted grin.

He rolls his eyes, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek, "I have to go check and make sure Dick's still alive. I'm ordering a bunch of food, do you want anything specific?"

"Just the classics," she replies, tying the robe around her waist and then once again taking a seat next to the toilet. The tile is freezing, but she prefers to be cold rather then overheating back in bed.

"Caffeine and carbs?" he presumes with a nod, "Got it." He heads for the door to go make sure his idiot best friend is still where he left him.

"I still mean it," she calls as he exits the bathroom and enters the bedroom, "I remember it and I still mean it."

He stops short, taking a deep breath before turning around. This is one of his problems with Veronica; she has the emotional maturity of a teenage boy. And she would much rather speak in generalizations then lay her cards on the table. He leans his back against the doorway, "Then say it."

She blinks, resting her head on her knees, as she looks him in the eye. She smiles, "I love you."

"I love you too," he replies quickly, but the grin he breaks into is bittersweet, "But if it was that simple we would have gotten married at eighteen."

She's not done, and even if it physically hurts she's getting at least some of it out, "I quit my job because I burned out. And because I wrote a book. But I'm moving back home because I missed you. And my dad. And my life." He blinks this time, trying to figure out everything she's just told him in a little more then twenty words. She watches his blank face for any signs of life; he's usually so expressive. She sighs; she might actually be able to handle this truth thing. Her body feels lighter then it has in years, "So, there it is."

They're interrupted by knocking coming from the hotel room door. Veronica winces and gets up to follow Logan as he goes to see what the disturbance is. Dick has hobbled over to the door, looking terrible. He opens it and moans out, "I will give you all of the money I have if you just fucking stop. And dude, I have an absolute shit load of money."

Logan makes it to the door and opens it wider, revealing a security guard flanked by a dreadfully hung over Piz and Wallace. He crosses his arms over his chest, "These men were found passed out by the indoor pool. They claim to belong to you."

"Hold on just one second," Veronica answers with a hasty grin, reaching into Logan's wrinkled dress pants to grab his cellphone. She snaps a quick picture of the scene before nodding seriously, "Yes, we accept your strays."

"Man," Dick mumbles at Wallace as he heads back towards the couch, "I'm your agent. We're supposed to be better then this."

Wallace ignores him, turning towards Veronica, "Where's my wife?"

Veronica leans against Logan, who wraps an arm around her waist in order to keep her wobbly knees steady. "All the ladies are tucked away safe," she answers as she rests her head on his chest, "The bitchy maid of honor took care of them I promise."

Piz is completely out of it, "I forgot which bed is mine. Just point me in a direction." Logan indicates behind him and both Wallace and Piz stagger in the general direction.

Logan's about to lead Veronica back to bed when there is yet another knock at the door. "Oh god make it stop," Dick begins to tearlessly weep into his pillow. Veronica grabs the door handle to reveal Mac in sweats, her hair pulled back with a thick fabric headband. Her nose is red and her face is pale. "Is my groom still alive?" she mumbles.

"Over here babe," Dick calls, sitting up as she falls against him, "How can you be this cute hung over?" He runs his fingers through the ends of her hair as he throws his arm around her shoulder.

"Dude I said yes," Mac replies dryly, pulling up the hood of her sweatshirt to block out the sun, "you're marrying me. We can be done with the pretense that I'm pretty all the time. Just let me lay my head in your lap; it's all I need right now."

Veronica pulls away from Logan. She's reconsidered, there's too much in her head to deal with at the moment without piling on. She needs at least one more hour of sleep and something in her stomach before she can sort this out with him. The lightness in her body has been replaced by a heavy need to recuperate if only for a little while, "I'm going to lay back down, please stick the coffee under my nose when it arrives."

"We still have to talk about all your weird shit," he calls to her retreating back, smirking. They have time. She's moving back home and they have time.

"Later," she snaps, glancing at him over her shoulder, "I changed my mind I'm too hung over to deal with this pre breakfast. Wake me with food and maybe you'll get lucky."

"Crazy and food addicted," Dick observes as Mac relaxes against him and stretches out across the blissfully comfortable couch, "that's the winning combination most guys pine over their whole lives."

"I'd hit you," his soon to be wife comments, "but it would hurt me more."

"I'll stop," he apologizes, using his fingers to pull the stray hair out of her face, "Try to fall back asleep."

10:30 am Friday September 7

They manage to get their shit together eventually. Parker stumbles in and then a bedraggled Jackie. Everybody falls back asleep after devouring room service but they decide to reconvene for lunch before taking off in Logan's jet. As Mac keeps muttering from the couch, they all have a rehearsal dinner to attend tonight.

Logan forces himself to roll out of bed a half an hour early, and once again attempts a workout in the pool. It goes better today but his ankle is still sore when he makes it back up to the room. Veronica is moaning, curled up in bed with a pillow over her face to block out the sun.

"You really are better at this aren't you?" she observes, peaking out from under her hiding place to note his wet hair and goofy grin. She should yell at him for putting so much stress on his ankle, but he's stubborn as fuck and she knows it wouldn't stop him for a second.

"I always thought it was cute that you were a bad drunk. It's probably one of the few areas where I excel and you decline," he replies. He's had much more practice then she has. Falling onto the opposite side of the bed he questions innocuously, "What's your book about?"

"A girl who solves mysteries," Veronica answers quietly.

"Seriously?" Logan remarks at the irony, "I almost got shot trying to stop a book about you from being published, and now you're doing it on your own?"

"I didn't write it," she corrects, "LM Duncan did."

"LM? And that stands for…" He thinks it over, and she's about to tell him when he gets it right on his own, "Lilly and Meg, ah how charmingly morbid of you."

Veronica rolls over to face him, "She writes the books. I just cash her checks."

"Books?" his eyebrows raise.

"They want me to make it a series," she retorts, "I'm currently undecided." Especially since Lissa Barnes is currently avoiding her call.

"You're an author," he whispers. Something forming in the pit of his stomach, it just may be that he's proud of her. Only Veronica could find a job that actually allows her to have a secret identity, "Your write books."

"And you're an actor," she mimics his bemused expression, "we're just changing everyday aren't we?"

"Not the important things," he replies, finally turning to look into her eyes. She's smiling and so is he. She's not working for the FBI anymore, she writes books, which means she can work from anywhere, be with anyone.

"Nope, not the important things," she agrees, finally sitting up, "But you have to get dressed and so do I." She leans over to kiss him goodbye before making her way back to her side of the hotel floor. Collapsing on her own bed as she tries to decide what outfit won't make her head explode.

10:45 am Friday September 7

When Dick wakes up alone, he finally decides to mobilize. Going on a search for his missing fiancée seems like a constructive use of his time. He hears her before he opens her bedroom door, the quiet sniffles he's only heard a few times during their relationship.

He enters the room, "Mac?" She's already dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. She's facing away from him, but he sees her stiffen, her arms moving to swipe at her face before she turns to face him.

"Oh, hey honey," she smiles, her eyes are red, "Sorry I'm just having a thing."

He sits on the bed, looking at her curiously, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she lies, heading towards the mirror to throw on some makeup to hide the splotches on her face, "I'm fine."

As soon as she gets close he grabs her and pulls her into his lap, "Oops sorry, judges aren't buying it. We're gonna need some more info."

"It's not a big deal I promise," she replies, running her hand through his hair gently, "Lets just go to lunch and pretend this never happened."

Dick's face screws up, his smile falling as he shakes his head, "Nope, I pass on the Logan and Veronica strategy. It's not going to work for them and it's definitely not going to work for me. There's not a chance I can just forget I saw you crying. Or that you apologized for it you psycho." He takes a deep breath, "Talk to me."

She sighs, getting distracted by how sweet he is, "I love you so much."

"Okay you're starting to freak me out now," He replies, "You didn't accidentally marry a stripper last night did you? Because, baby, I've been there, but I'm only cool with it if it's a chick."

She rolls her eyes, remembering very clearly his beautiful ex wife, "No, this isn't about anything that happened last night. It's about me and my crazy family drama."

It's his turn to roll his eyes at her, "Yes, because we definitely don't have that in common. So what's up? Does your little brother still want to have the ushers wear themed suits so people can pick them out in the crowd?"

"What? No Ryan's over the red tux idea. Now he wants nametags. But it's not that." She winces, deciding to just come clean. He's right; they're no Logan and Veronica. She couldn't keep a secret from him if her life depended on it, "Mrs. Sinclair wants to come to our wedding."

"Madison's parents?" Dick squints, "Wait you're saying your birth parents want to crash the nuptials?"

"Maybe just her," Mac corrects. She hadn't asked if Mr. Sinclair had any desire to see her. If he even knew Mrs. Sinclair was asking. It really didn't matter, "I don't know what her husband thinks."

"Well who cares?" Dick questions, "Who gives a fuck what he thinks?" The very idea of those rich idiots making her cry makes his fists clench. He knew Madison's parents, her dorky little sister, and they were reasonably nice people. Nice people who had raised an absolute monster of a daughter. He liked them, but they didn't get to ask his fiancée for a life shattering invitation two days before her wedding.

She sighs, and asks the question she sometimes has to with her husband to be, "What do you mean?"

He pulls her close, kissing her on the forehead and resting his chin on top of her head, "I mean exactly what you told me when my absentee mother wanted an invite, it doesn't matter what anybody else wants. This is our wedding. We get to decide. So I've decided that this is your decision and I support you in your choice."

She smirks; she'd said the equivalent to him when his mother had called. His decision. Her decision. What the hell did she know what she wanted? She takes a deep breath, "So helpful." They're getting married tomorrow. She can handle this.

She allows herself a few more seconds before untangling his arms from around her and heading to the bathroom to do her makeup. Giving him a quick kiss before she walks out. "Love you," he murmurs, before falling back against her bed to wait for her.

10:45 am Friday September 7

Parker and Piz are able to make nothing but groaning noises from their respective sides of the bed until Jackie makes so much noise they're forced to abandon their ultra comfortable mattress. She's already in heels and a pair of slacks, and Parker hates her just a little bit as she crawls to her suitcase. At least she has Wallace to slow her down, he's popping aspirin like they're candy and sulking on the couch in jeans and a faded T-shirt.

"We're never drinking again," she moans as she digs through her suitcase trying to find something acceptable to wear. Somehow she doesn't think her current outfit of her boyfriend's boxer shorts and a sports bra are going to be acceptable in their five star hotel dining room.

"Aren't those always your famous last words?" Piz replies with a smile. In their circle of friends in Chicago Parker is notorious for her Friday night escapades.

"Well I like a few Cosmos after work," she comments with a shake of her head, "It's fine."

"When have you ever drank a Cosmo in your life?" Piz squints. Parker likes shots. But he knew her problem with clubs. She held onto his hand tight, but he knew the drill by now. He compensated for the insecurity, he staid by her side, kept her in his line of sight always. And he knew it was one of the reasons she loved him.

"Fine," she corrects with a wink, "Cosmo is code for Jagerbomb, it just makes me sound more ladylike."

"We just have to get through lunch and then we can sleep on the plane," Piz remarks. It's consolation; he could go for some food. And he could definitely fall asleep again stretched out across the leather seats in Logan's plane.

"Okay," Parker finally decides, managing to pull herself up from the floor using the shiny wooden dresser, I'm gonna go sit in the shower, knock on the door when we're leaving." She's about to enter the bathroom when she whirls, "Oh hey I went to check on you last night, where were you?"

"Yeah, Wallace and I, we kind of broke off from the group." He winces; to be honest he barely remembers dinner. And even that's fuzzy around the edges.

Parker stiffens, eyebrows knitting together, "What does that mean?"

Piz sighs, his head is ringing and the light dripping through the tops of the pulled curtains is nearly blinding, "Can we talk about it later?"

"Just, where did you wake up?" She insists, arms coming to cross over her chest.

"In a pool lobby. Next to Wallace," he scowls as he finally understands where her head is at, pointing out, "You do realize the guys didn't get strippers?"

"Oh," a smile forms on her face as she runs a hand through her hair, completely relaxed now, "Okay, I'm going to shower."

"That's nice," he smirks at her reaction, yelling after her as she closes the bathroom door, "Real nice Lee."

11:30 am Friday September 7

They look like complete assholes at lunch. Parker can barely keep her head off the table and Piz is eating like he's never seen food before. Logan, who's in an incredible mood, is completely ashamed of all them. Jackie, who for reasons that have been splashed across many newspaper headlines, has a much higher tolerance for alcohol then any normal person and is the only one who looks even slightly presentable.

After downing two cups of coffee and something called triple chocolate chip pancakes Veronica is passed out on his shoulder. He has no idea how she's still alive with that kind of diet, let alone retaining her fucking banging body. He's not complaining though, especially because the hand she's using to leverage her body is remarkably high on his thigh. She stills wears the same perfume, and it reminds him of beaches and the backseat of his car.

He corals his troops into the limo and then onto the waiting plane. He suggests raiding the minibar and actually gets booed by his guests. Veronica is still sleeping, this time literally curled into his lap. She just complained because he keeps shifting and trying to tap his foot. He doesn't know what else to do so he rests his head on top of hers and tries to fall asleep. He can feel her heartbeat against his shoulder. Sitting still might not be so bad.