This chapter is pretty heavy. I'm aware it's all pretty heavy, but this just seems worse. Anyway, to all who have reviewed and followed, I thank you! Your feedback means so much, so please keep it coming! They are not mine, not a single one. Sigh. This chapter brought to you by our dear friend...Glenfiddich ;)

12 November 1945

"So," Logan started, his hands trembled slightly as he blew steam from the hot cup of what passed for coffee on the USS Gordon. He and Keith hadn't spoken since the beach the week before, both swept away in small transports to Inchon, Korea before setting the course home. He leaned against the bulkhead, avoiding the slew of discharged men playing games and retelling the same war stories in the overcrowded mess. "I assume by now you've figured out that I did not go to Europe with my parents, not that Ronnie believed I was for a second, but I don't know what she would have told you or Mrs. Mars," Keith's mouth tightened at the mention of his wife, eyes flickering with a sadness that Logan couldn't place. Logan had figured he might as well divulge the whole story, regardless of whether or not Veronica had told him, it would do him good to finally say the words out loud to someone else. Over and over those words, uttered in a drunken, jealous slur, haunted his sleep, goaded him into more than one sticky situation Veronica would have been livid about, had she known. He told Keith about those, too. Before he could stop it, he was talking about Lynn, her dependencies on all things mood-altering, and since he'd already gone that far…he decided he'd tell him about Aaron and his hatred of leather "There's this sensation, it's something that never goes away. As soon as I smell leather, I'm raw, like the first hit ever. It's permeated my sense memory and I will never escape it. Blood, adrenaline, the taste of my tears, the sound, and the goddamn smell of leather. And I enlist in the Marines, a fucking leatherneck! I'm a glutton for punishment, I guess."

Keith watched the young man's disaffected stare refocus on him as his nervous fidgeting subsided. He shifted his weight and ran a weary hand across his eyes, the full impact of Logan's abuse hit him harder than he thought it would given the past few years he'd lived through. He managed to hide the tears that crept their way into his eyes, but clapped his hand on Logan's shoulder, gripping tightly as if to reassure him he wasn't alone anymore. Keith had managed to hear a few tales about 'Ax' before they were ushered to Korea, and a few more now they'd settled a bit on the ship. The consensus was he was well liked and highly respected. There were more than a few stories of how he managed to thwart the gods and survive. According to several men in his platoon, Ax had saved their lives, and probably the lives of many more, but he never lauded praise, he was humble. Cocky, they assured to Keith's amusement, but humble.

"Sounds like you had a tough choice to make, son," Keith noticed the corner of his lip twitch into the smallest semblance of a smile. "And as much as I should be angry with you, for breaking my daughter's heart and leaving her…" he stopped before he finished his thought. Knowing that there had been zero communication between Logan and Veronica meant that he didn't know Lianne had left, nor did he know about the Aaron incident, which after hearing Logan's admission made much more sense. It's also where all the anger that resided in Keith was redirected. He sighed and continued. "I just can't seem to muster it. I'm very, very happy you're alive, Logan. And alive you shall remain until we get stateside of course." He said winking at Logan's perplexed look. "Oh, Veronica…she's going to fucking kill you." And the fear that clouded Logan's eyes cleared and he laughed, from his belly, so deep he was left gasping for air.

Keith told Logan about his time at sea, and Logan gave up the truth behind the stories. Turns out they were far less exaggerated than Keith expected. He replayed, with a modicum of detachment, where he'd been and what had happened. He didn't divulge in his personal glories, just that he felt like he'd been lucky. Lucky, from what Keith had heard from Gunny, was an understatement. There was a particular incident when they had arrived in the Solomons where Logan and the business end of a bayonet became intimately acquainted. His first purple heart, the gunnery sergeant stated. The something happened on Peleliu, Keith heard from some of the others, though none would say exactly what. Only that it was bad, hellish, in fact. And as a direct result of whatever it was that occurred, 'Ax' was promoted to Platoon Sergeant. They also credited his leadership and surprising tactical strategy, for keeping more of them alive on Iwo Jima than should have been. He also earned a Purple Heart there. So, it was two, at least. And he'd probably a hundred more accolades for bravery and service than Keith would ever know about.

"Logan," Keith shook his head, trying to find words that didn't seem hollow and cheap, to convey the pride he had for the young man sitting before him. "I may not have been the biggest supporter of yours and Veronica's relationship, but it was never because I didn't like you or think you were good enough for her. No one wants to see their baby slipping away from them. I had hoped I'd have a few more years where I was the only man she wanted in her life, but when you came waltzing down the west coast, I knew I was a done for." Logan's mouth broke into a shy smile, the reservation that earlier exuded melted away completely.

"Mr. Mars, I have never thought it possible to love, like I love her. I mean, you've met my parents, they loved in front of an audience, but when it was gone, there was no warmth or affection, just the blanket concern for well-being. I was conceived and raised as a pawn for the press," He spat vehemently, taking a sip of his now tepid coffee, trying to push the anger back down. He didn't need it anymore, or them, but he swore his scars burned at the very thought of his father. With slow, deep breaths and thoughts of a distinct California sunrise, he continued. "I left, in part to escape them, that life they had 'blessed' me with. But it was a fucking joke. When I was a kid, in New York I got into all sorts of trouble. For all the glamor and bright lights of Broadway, it's much easier to get swept up in the nefarious goings on behind the curtain. From drink to drugs to dames, you name it…they get it. And mom got me out before I got too deep." His smirk had resurfaced, Keith had noticed though there was a bit of embarrassment in the young man's eyes.

"So that's how you ended up in Neptune?" Logan nodded. "Veronica had always said it was because your parents wanted in the pictures."

"That was part of it," he admitted. "Aaron wanted to do film, my mom always loved the stage more, but when she saw what I was starting to do, she thought a nice change of scene couldn't hurt," He remembered that conversation with his mother so vividly. He expected to feel awash in her disappointment in him, but she was more concerned about their public image and how Logan had to try and be better, or less visible if he continued to act foolishly. Be better, he thought automatically. At eleven, he'd had his first epiphany. You are not these people, and nowhere does it say, that just because they're your family, means you have to be anything like them. A new start, yes, a new life. He agreed to the move under one condition. "I had grown up surrounded by concrete. The sweltering pavement in the summer, cold, glass, and steel in the winter, grey always. I wanted sun and sand. I only ever felt real when there was sand between my toes and saltwater in my hair. The Atlantic is great, it's vast and expansive, in these deep, cool blues that would just swallow everything up. But the Pacific, when I saw it the first time I knew this could work. Especially since I convinced my parents that getting a house on the beach would keep me out of trouble. God, I miss that house." Keith sucked in a sharp breath, which was, fortunately, unnoticed by Logan.

"It's a nice house, Lo," he paused, he had to handle this part delicately. "Do you think your parents will be there when you get back?"

"I don't see why they would be," He said matter-of-factly. "They hated that house. A single floor? How gauche! They had no idea who Frank Lloyd Wright even was. I was adamant, and while I lost many, many battles…I took that one war. I suppose though he'll win in the end." Keith looked at Logan, the question in his eye. Logan shook his head and went to stand up.

"Logan? What is it?" Keith noticed the tremor then, his hand shaking, fingers twitching spasmodically as his breathing sped up.

"Twelve-year-old Logan wanted that house because it was on the beach," he said raggedly. "Sixteen-year-old Logan wanted that house for Veronica. When I thought of the future, I could only see us, she and I. Raising our own family there. Where our kids never questioned our love for them, or each other, where we would grow old and watch the sunrise, together." Logan didn't notice the tears that fell from his eyes, nor did he see the ones glistening on Keith's cheeks. "And I fucked it all up. I left her, and she'll hate me and she'll make that life with someone else, someone who deserves her," he remarked ruefully.

"Then why leave like you did? She would have waited for you, you had to know that."

"I didn't want her to have to. She needed the chance to see what her life would be like without all the drama I brought to it. And I needed to see if I could be the person who deserved her. I know how selfish it was, I hate that I have a hundred letters I never sent her. I hate myself enough for the both of us, but honestly, Keith, if I had known she was waiting for me to get home safe and sound, I may not have done what I needed to. People depended on me, I had objectives that had to be met and ensuring my team's safety was the priority, and it was hard enough without trying to live up to a promise I had no way of keeping." He never thought he'd come back, Keith realized and he knew without question, he had to be told.

"Logan, you're going to need to sit down and listen to me. There's a lot that's happened while you were been away proving yourself. If you want even a snowballs chance in hell reconciling with my daughter, dutifully obey. Sit down and shut up."

11 November 1945

Sunday. The surf quietly lapping at the shore as the sun began its ascent, pink and orange streaking through the lingering morning haze. A cup of coffee in hand, Veronica made her way to the patio just as the phone rang.

"Echolls residence," She answered out of habit. Anyone who was actually looking for an Echolls knew not to call there, the only calls received were for her. But she wouldn't change the number, she couldn't.

"Have you heard anything more from your dad?" the voice implored.

"I am picking him up in Los Angeles next Sunday." Veronica thumbed through the newest issue of Screenland. It had been nearly two years since any Echolls lived in the house, and yet, numerous Hollywood publications and Logan's favorite, Architectural Digest, showed up once a month. Those were chronologically filed away, along with everything she had written him during his absence.

"How do you not sound more excited Veronica Mars?! You're seeing your dad for the first time in three years!" She couldn't help but laugh at her friend's exasperation.

"Lilly, I am ecstatic! I have been dancing around the house for days, I think I wore out my favorite Les Brown album."

"I take it your aloofness means you still haven't heard hide nor hair from your favorite brown-eyed fella." Veronica couldn't stop her jaw clenching at the thought of him. It's been months since the wars were declared over, and not even and hi, I'm not dead. Not to anyone. He had to know that she would want to know, that she couldn't just push him out of her mind and heart because he insisted she do so. She really hated to think of him. It just reminded her how much she loved him, and how much she just wished she hated him instead.

"You would be correct. And that's all we're saying on the matter. I have to get the master fixed up for Dad and get all the fixings for Thanksgiving. I really wish you were going to be here, Lilly. Dick, Wallace, his mom and brother, Vinnie, Dad and me, it'll be the first time a holiday has felt like one in a long, long time."

"I can be there if you want me to, Ronica, all you have to do is ask."

"No, no, spend your break with that gorgeous godchild of mine," she laughed. "I can't believe she's almost two. How is my Ruby Jo?"

"Dazzling!" she could hear Ruby giggling through the phone, the pang that shot through her heart caught her off guard. "She is into everything, but she's just the cutest and sweetest. I can't imagine my life…Oh, Ron, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"No, Lilly, you should not feel guilty about your happiness. What happened was years ago, it just wasn't meant to be." Lilly scoffed knowing there was always more to it than what Veronica told her. "But I do need to finish my coffee and get the food ready for when the boys come. I have every intention of putting them to work today, I need them fueled and ready."

"Then don't go overboard and cook everything in sight, Mars! Those boys will be full and sleeping rather than fueled and ready if you make all the food you're planning on." Veronica smiled sheepishly, knowing Lilly was absolutely right.

"Damn it," she sighed. "Alright, just a light breakfast and then lunch when the time comes, and well, cookies of course…" Lilly groaned on the other end of the phone and Veronica had to bite back her laughter. "It's like therapy Lil, I can't help it. I can control it. Cook, bake, clean, repeat. It keeps my mind from wandering."

"Alright, I'll give you that. I have lunch myself to get to, I will talk to you soon my dear."

"Have fun, Lilly. Kiss Ruby for me!"

"Always Aunt Ronnie! I love you."

"Love you Lils, bye." Hanging up the phone Veronica looked around the quiet, empty house. Would her dad want to stay here? Would she really be able to leave the only place she felt connected to Logan? She tried to shake the thoughts from her head. She had too many things to do today, dwelling on thoughts of Logan would get her nowhere but sad, fast. Quickly, she changed from her robe and gathered the cleaning and painting supplies in the empty master bedroom. When Lynn moved her and Aaron's things from the house, Veronica hadn't planned on staying long enough to imagine it occupied by her father. But she fell more and more in love with the house the longer she stayed. Each room had beautiful ocean views, but the master had a small terrace, as did Logan's room, both would need their privacy when they got back she thought when she considered taking the master for herself.

No, Veronica, remember it's not your house. This is temporary. Everything is temporary. If… Logan doesn't come back, Lynn will sell the house and you'll have to go. Do not get attached.

But she was attached. The memories of the life that was dreams for what could have been and the reality that she lived in now. This house was tied to all of them. And it wasn't like Lynn had actually said any of that, it was just the logical assumption. She hadn't heard from Lynn in months, hadn't even read a blip about her in those Hollywood magazines, only a few scant lines even about Aaron. And she only read them to ensure he was still far away from Neptune. She fought the lump that formed in her throat when she thought of him, the burn of bile and deep ache in her stomach accompanied every time she was reminded and today, there were tears. There was no escaping the tumult of feelings her father's return were dredging up, she just had to accept it and hope that Wallace and Dick would understand her current state.

Following Lilly's advice, Veronica only prepared enough food for breakfast. Which they ate every last bite of. She figured while the boys painted, she could make a batch or two of cookies and clean up the kitchen. The last of the cookies cooled on the counter when she noticed their voices raising.

"I'm not saying that Wallace, I'm just saying we can't ignore it anymore."

"If she doesn't ever want to talk about it, we have to be okay with that."

"No way! She makes sure we're okay, she's the only one who's been there to look out for us. How many times has she found us at the bottom of a bottle and makes sure we get home and don't choke on our puke?" Wallace rubbed a weary hand across his brow, he knew his friend was right. Dick didn't know that Wallace had tried to broach the subject once before. It ended with a string of expletives Wallace had never heard strung together before, and a mighty sharp jab in the ribs.

"Dick, I know you just want to be there for her. But we can only do that if she wants us to. We're here now, she's not falling apart again, and she's stronger now for it. How else do you think she got through with her dad and Logan being gone?" The man had a point, Dick conceded.

"I could fucking kill Logan," He muttered, only half joking. "I mean, I get it…all of it, but he could have waited and gone with us. I mean, what was another year? He could have…"

"I know, man. I know." Clapping Dick on the shoulder, Wallace turned back toward the wall, his heart heavier and mind much less at ease. He was hoping they'd have heard something from Logan by now, but no news was almost always bad news. He turned his attention back to painting, barely hearing the voice whisper behind him.

"I used to ask myself if he had known, would he have stayed? And every single time I came up with the same answer," Dick turned to face her first, the despondency in her eyes stole the air from his chest. He took a tentative step toward her, his prosthetic awkwardly catching on the drop cloth. She looked up, catching the eyes of two of her closest friends. She stepped fully into the room, taking in the light sage that now covered the walls…and the clothes and faces of Wallace and Dick. She smiled and bit back tears. She hated reliving this. If she never had to think about it again it would be too soon, the deeper it stayed buried the better. "He would have never left. You were two of his best friends, you knew him better than that. And if he had any idea about what happened, he would have been back here so fast heads would have spun. I hate that he left me, but I could never hate him. I need him to come back, I need him to mourn. If that isn't possible, then it never happened," her voice cracked slightly, she hastily wiped away the tears that threatened, there was still so much to do.

"Veronica," Wallace said softly. "We just want you to know that we're here. You've helped put us back together, and I know it's not an easy feat."

"Call us Humpty Dumpty. Together we are all kinds of broken. Together we can put ourselves back together, again," she deadpanned, her soft smile an attempt to alleviate the intense emotions threatening to suffocate the room.

"Ronnie, when Lo hears…he'll be broken too," Dick hadn't really meant to say it. When he got home, he realized sometimes his inner monolog was very much outer, and while he worked hard to be conscience of it, highly fraught situations took him off his game. Her eyes widened as she took in the words, Dick was afraid she was going to slap him. He would have slapped himself, and the look on Wallace's face proved he wanted to slap him too.

"Then we'll have to put him back together, too. Won't we?" he could only nod as a tear leaked from his eye. Before anyone had a chance to say more, the doorbell rang. Veronica let out what can only be described as a sigh of relief, she'd already said more than she ever wanted to on the subject. "Ah, that'll be Vinnie. Excuse me, boys, I've got the great furniture migration to direct." She kissed each of them on the cheek and ran out of the room.

12 November 1945

USS Gordon

He knew Keith was nearby, but he couldn't talk to him, not yet. He needed time to process what he'd been told, he'd stumbled down a few corridors seeking solitude, a place where the screams vying to escape his throat could be heard without reproach. In the boiler room, he found that solace, the place where his screams were drowned out and his tears melted with the sweat that poured down his face. He needed to hit something.

He had hoped he'd be able to heal some of his emotional scars when he got back home. Now, it was as if he had no scars, they were all fresh wounds. He made his way toward the deck. He needed air, his lungs felt like were molten lead, with each step higher it brought the pain deeper, the realization sinking into his soul. The humidity, coupled with the difficulty breathing he'd already been experiencing, knocked Logan to his knees. He crawled toward the railing and managed to release the contents of his stomach over the side of the ship. All his lessons in self-preservation heaved into the ocean to drown. There he sat, tears silently collecting on his soot-stained shirt when Keith came to sit next to him.

"How could this happen?" Logan's voice held an edge of fear Keith had never heard before.

"I don't know, son," he flinched. "But Veronica is okay now, as okay as she can be. And you need to keep it together so you can make it back to her. I can be there for her as much as I want to be, but it's you she needs." Logan looked incredulous.

"She hates me! She has to hate me! Look what I did Keith!"

"Logan. I'm going to ask you some questions. Be honest with me, okay?" he waited for the nodded approval and started. "Did you know Veronica was pregnant when you left?" The absolute horror and disgust in Logan's eyes were answer enough, the shame that crossed next assured it. "Okay, would you have left if you knew?"

"No, sir."

"Would you have done the honorable thing and marry her?"

"If that's what she wanted, yes, and if you'd have allowed me the opportunity." Keith nodded and smiled.

"I can't say I would have been happy. But eventually Logan, I would have been proud to call you son, and I would have loved that kid so much."

"Do they think…" he paused, he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer to this question but he had to ask. "Was there physical…damage, I mean. Will she be able to have more children, Mr. Mars?" Keith noticed the tremble that stole through his voice and looked over at the broken young man next to him.

"They don't know. There were a lot of complications, Lo, but she had the best care available. She probably would be…" Keith choked down a sob of his own. They didn't speak for a long while that night. Keith had made it clear earlier he was only telling Logan because he wasn't sure how Veronica would handle seeing him again, and he knew better than anyone that Logan was who she needed now. She refused to deal with the psychological ramifications of the accident, her body had healed and that literally had propelled her forward. The hit and run left Veronica on the sidewalk half a block away from VLM investigations. When she'd been brought in they'd noted the cracked ribs, a broken femur, and possible internal bleeding, she hadn't miscarried right away. Two days later, the bleeding started and with it, the loss of a piece of her soul. It had taken her a very long time to tell her father that she was pregnant in the first place, telling him she wasn't anymore was even harder. She threw herself into school, drowned herself in work, and spent as much time with her friends as she could before they all left at the end of the year, and then Keith was reminded she was alone. She went through that all alone.

"Is it still an open case? A hit and run?" Logan asked, after what seemed like hours.

"Ah, that daughter of mine has picked up a thing or two having a PI as a father, and I'm sure working with Vinnie for the past few years has done nothing but sharpen those skills. Apparently, your father had come back to Neptune after hearing you left," Logan's head dropped to his knees, nausea making another appearance. "She said they only spoke briefly. He wanted to know where you were, and since she claimed she didn't know, he insisted he had ways of making her talk. Unfortunately, my daughter also has a mouth on her, and I have to wonder, did she know what he did to you, Logan?"

"She did. Aside from Trina and Lynn, and some suspicious housekeepers, she was the only one. I'm pretty sure Dick and Wallace knew something, but I never outright told them. Why?"

"Your dad never crossed my mind. And if it crossed hers, she didn't tell me. After it had happened, she was too busy trying to get her life back together, if she was doing any investigating she kept it to herself. She was moving into that apartment, trying to finish her senior year, see if college would be a feasible option now. God, forgive me, and you too, but I sometimes have to wonder if it wasn't really a blessing." Finally, the words that had spun in Logan's head since he had heard had weight, he let out a ragged and relieved breath. How fucking horrible was he? He had just learned his girlfriend had lost their baby, three years ago, and of the million things he was feeling at once, relief was the strongest. She wasn't alone anymore. And if he had his way, she never would be again.

"Mr. Mars, what made you suspect my father had something to do with it?"

"Your mother, actually," Keith placed his hand on Logan's shoulder. "As soon as she heard she was in Neptune. She brought along an army of doctors, therapists, lawyers…she did everything she could to make sure Veronica was healing properly. And she ensured she was taken care of, completely. That made us both think she knew more than she was letting on. Nothing's concrete, we have no proof. Just really good instincts and a bunch of little things, like breadcrumbs, that lead back to your father."

"So, my mom is with her?" Logan could feel the hope rise slightly.

"No, son, she left after a few months, something about 'keeping up appearances'. They kept in touch for a time, I don't think she's heard from her in a while, though." He nodded.

"It's crazy how perception changes things like time. At war, a week could feel like minutes, it could feel like years, it never felt altogether real, though. Like, everything you were experiencing was some kind of fever dream and when you woke up the memories were there, but you couldn't place what came in between. A week ago I was told I was going home, and I saw you on a beach on a random island in the middle of the Pacific. Now, we're on a ship headed back to the states. And one week from now, I have to tell the love of my life why I left her, and there is not one word in any language that can justify what I did. Not after knowing what happened, fuck!"

"Well, the way I see it, you have one week to put it all out there in the open. Tell her everything. One last letter. Logan, she knows you, the real you, the one you always tried to bury under that obnoxious exterior. I can tell you until I'm blue in the face, that while you'll definitely have lots of groveling to do, she won't hate you. Eventually. She won't hate you, with time. I hated you a little bit you know when I saw you, but you quickly changed that, son. You both lost something precious, Logan, and where you're just starting to realize the magnitude, she's held it in for years. She won't break until you're there, she needs you. See to it you stay the young man you think you've become, the one she's always seen."

Logan nodded, he stood numbly and made his way toward his bunk. Thousands of voices converged on him as he entered the crowded space, men stacked four high, every inch crowded with the few things they had to bring home with them. He'd heard his name called, both of them, the dizziness taking over as he sank into his bunk and fell immediately into a dream that could never come to pass.