Chapter Six

"Are you okay?" Veronica asks Logan as she opens the door to her apartment.

They left her father's place pretty quickly after the phone call, leaving Logan's car in her father's driveway as Veronica drove them home. He gave a broken version of the story before they left her dad's, but he's barely said a word since, just spent the journey back across town staring out of the window.

Logan steps past her and into the apartment, wordlessly moving across the living room and coming to a halt at the kitchen counter. His back to her, he rests his hands on the edge, shoulders rising as his head bows. He stays like that, unmoving, for several long moments Veronica, unsure how to react, edges into the room, gently placing her jacket and handbag on the couch before approaching him. She hesitates for a moment, hand lifting, but pauses before she touches him. Maybe he doesn't want her comfort right now, maybe he needs some space.

Before she can decide what to do, his cell phone buzzes again and he shifts, pulls it out of his pocket with a heavy sigh as he glances down at the screen.

"It's Chaos," he mutters, his voice cracking slightly as he presses the call button and brings the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Mouth, man, I just heard," Veronica can hear Chaos' voice through the line. "This is so fucked up."

"Tell me about it," Logan says, still facing away from her. "I just can't… I mean, it's fucking Bilbo. He was too good for something like this to-"

He stops, swallowing harshly and Veronica steps closer, resting a comforting hand on his back.

"I know," comes the reply, tinny but clear. "You're going to the funeral, right? Cosmo's just sent the details: Tahoma National Cemetery, Saturday morning."

"Yeah, I'm going." He nods. "I'll get a flight out in the morning."

"Yeah, us too. Look, man, I gotta go. We'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, tomorrow…"

Logan ends the call, staring down at the phone for a moment before placing it gently down on the counter and bracing his hands against the marble surface. He just stares at nothing for a moment, before stiffening, a heavy, shaky breath escaping his lips.

"It's okay," murmurs Veronica, moving closer to his side, her hand rubbing small circles over his lower back. "It's gonna be okay."

She watches his eyes squeeze shut, his lips pressing together as he fights against his emotions, and her heart clenches with sympathy.

He shakes his head slowly.

"No… it's not." The words are shaky and catch in his throat, like he's barely holding on.

"Come here," says Veronica softly, hand on his arm as she turns him towards her.

She wraps her arms around his neck, hugging as tightly as she can. He lets out a heaving sigh, forehead falling to her shoulder as his arms come around her, holding her to him. Veronica closes her eyes, lets her fingers run through his hair, massaging his scalp in comfort.

She stands in the middle of her apartment, holding him, until he takes a shuddering breath and releases his hold on her. Veronica observes him in silence as he crosses the kitchen, pours two glasses of water, then carries them to the coffee table and sinks down into the soft couch cushions. She joins him, and his arm comes around her as she settles on the couch, legs curled beneath her, head resting against his shoulder.

"So, the funeral's in Seattle, right?" she asks softly a few moments later.

"Yeah… a few miles south," he says absently. "I'm gonna fly out in the morning."

"Okay, we'll leave first thing."

He starts at that. "We? I thought you were busy with your case?"

Truth is, she really does need to get onto Lamb about a search warrant for Bellamy's computer and phone, but she's not about to abandon Logan to do it.

She shakes her head. "It can wait. I'm going with you."

"Veronica…" Logan says, something in his tone causing Veronica to sit up and turn to him. He's looking at her tenderly. "Thank you."

She smiles, lifting a hand to his cheek as she studies him for a moment. He's pale and drawn, his eyes red. She leans in, gently pressing her lips to his in a soft kiss, trying to offer some small solace.

Logan can't sleep. He's spent the last two hours tossing and turning; every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is Bilbo's jet crashing to the deck. All he can think about is his friend standing beside him on the ship, explaining why he's so meticulous about carrier landings. Bilbo was one of the best fighter pilots he ever met, he didn't deserve this.

With a sigh, he turns onto his back, fingers running through his hair as he stares up at the ceiling.

"Logan?" Veronica shifts beside him, blinking at him sleepily.

"I'm okay," he says. "Go back to sleep."

"You're not okay." She props her head on her hand, reaching over to place her hand on his t-shirt-clad chest. "What can I do?"

He closes his eyes, feeling the grief rising in his chest once again. "I don't think there's anything you can do."

She moves closer, snuggling up to his side and wrapping her arm around his waist as her ankle slides over his.

"I'm here," she says, "If you want to talk about it, or whatever."

He nods, but doesn't say anything… can't say anything. Instead, he savours the feel of her beside him, absorbs the comfort in her embrace. They lie together for a few minutes, Logan listening to her soft breathing. His thoughts turn to Bilbo again, and before he realises he's speaking, the words are tumbling from his mouth.

"He was only a year older than me," he says, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "But he was so much better. He has—had—a wife, and a two-year-old son. Anthony. He's the most adorable kid. Fuck, how did this happen?"

"I don't know," Veronica murmurs softly, her fingers tracing gentle patterns over his t-shirt. He reaches up and takes her hand in his.

"You know how he got his call sign?"

Veronica shakes her head, linking their fingers together. "I assume it's something Lord of the Rings-related."

"He was a total nerd." Logan smiles sadly. "Every Sunday he hosted a Dungeons and Dragons game in the Rec Room. Even roped me into playing a few months back—you know, when I had that head cold and was grounded?"

"Really?" He can hear amusement in her tone. "I'd have paid to see that."

"I was a bard," he tells her, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips. "I spent the whole time writing limericks about the other characters."

She squeezes his hand. "I bet they loved that."

"Yeah…" He closes his eyes, memories flitting through his mind as a wave of anger flows over him. "Shit, it's not fair. He made that landing hundreds of times. He could park his bug on a dime. And then one mistake. One mistake with no margin of error."

Veronica is silent for a moment, but then she squeezes his hand again and murmurs softly, "I'm so sorry."

Friday morning, Veronica flies up to Seattle with Logan. She holds his hand the whole way there, her heart going out to him as she takes in the tired, red eyes and pale pallor of his skin. They rent a car from the airport and drive the fifteen miles down to Kent, Washington, where the cemetery is located, in relative silence. Logan is unusually quiet and subdued and Veronica doesn't know what to say to help. She wishes she could just make it all better, get rid of his pain, but she can't.

Checking into the hotel, Logan carries their bags up to the room, dropping them onto the large bed in the centre before stepping over to the window and looking out. Veronica stays near the bed, watching him with concern. When he brings a hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn, she speaks up.

"You wanna take a nap? You barely slept last night."

Logan shakes his head.

"No. I'm okay." He turns to her, his expression soft, almost pleading—for what, she doesn't know. "I should go find out what I need to do for the funeral."

"Yeah." She nods, giving him a small smile. "Okay."

She entwines her fingers with his as they walk out of the room and down to the lobby. They find Chaos and Sarah in the lounge bar, along with another man in service khakis who Logan introduces as Cosmo, his WSO. Cosmo's here alone, his wife having stayed behind at Lemoore to look after the kids. A few minutes later, three more servicemen arrive: Bilbo and Chaos' WSOs, and Bilbo's older brother, Jimmy. The six of them head over to the cemetery to discuss their pallbearing duties for the service, leaving Veronica and Sarah to catch up in the hotel lounge.

Logan and his squadron-mates return to the hotel bar in time for dinner, and they spend the evening reminiscing about the good times they'd shared with Bilbo over the years. Veronica sits beside Logan at the table, hand placed on his knee comfortingly and occasionally his hand comes down to cover hers as he sends her a grateful smile.

Veronica studies him with a combination of concern and wonder as he converses with his friends; this is the first time she's really able to see just how much his fellow officers mean to him, how they interact with each other, what their relationship is like. He's like this whole new person around them; no longer the spoiled, smart-mouthed rich kid she'd grown up with, but a respected military officer who has to deal with life and death on a regular basis.

Logan's phone rings near the end of the meal and he quickly excuses himself to take the call. Veronica strains to get a glimpse of him as he takes it, but he disappears out of sight around a corner. When he returns, he looks serious, his lips pressed together in a grim line, but when she asks what's wrong he just shakes his head, forces a smile and tells her it's nothing. She lets it drop for now, but can't help noticing he keeps looking at her thoughtfully, a slight frown on his face, through the rest of the evening.

She waits until they're back in their room to broach the subject.

"You finally gonna tell me what that phone call was about?" she asks, leaning against the bathroom doorframe, observing him as he splashes water on his face, then reaches for a towel, running it across his brow.

He straightens, glancing at her in the mirror before placing the towel down and turning to face her. Leaning his hands on the counter, he sighs.

"It was my CO," he says. "They want me to go back."

"Go back where?" She doesn't understand… or maybe she does, but she'd rather stay in denial.

He shrugs, looking down for a second, then back up at her, expression apprehensive. "Aboard ship. They're short now."

What? They can't do that… can they? He's just spent six months on a ship.

He runs a hand across his face, then crosses his arms. "You know, with Bilbo gone, they're shorthanded."

No, no, he can't. Not now.

Veronica shakes her head.

"Yeah, but—" She stops, realising her voice is rising in pitch. She takes a breath, tries to calm down. She takes a step toward him. "Logan, you're on shore duty. That's supposed to last at least another year."

"I know." Logan sighs, looking at her apologetically. "But they need me, Veronica."

"Wait." Her eyes narrow, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as something occurs to her. "Are they telling you that you have to go back? Is it an order?"

"No, but…"

"So you could choose not to?"

"Veronica…" His tone holds hints of both warning and regret.

"You could choose not to," she repeats, taking another step closer, watching him searchingly. "If you wanted, you could tell them no."

He sighs, pushing away from the sink and stopping before her. His hands gently resting on her shoulders as he says softly, "Look, I haven't decided for sure what I'm going to do, okay? But you have to understand—this is what the job is. I trained for this. I worked my ass off for this. I chose this life. You of all people should understand that."

Veronica studies him carefully, sees the earnest expression, the pleading in his eyes. "I do understand, Logan, but why you? Why do you have to be the one to go back? Why not someone else?"

"I don't know." He shakes his head, though he averts his eyes from her as he speaks.

"Yes, you do." She frowns. "What is it?"

He sighs resignedly. "I don't have ties. The other guys… they're all married, they have kids, families, homes. That's taken into consideration in situations like this. They know I don't have that, that I can ship out whenever."

"Right." Veronica nods, blinking back the sting of tears she can feel forming in her eyes. "Yeah. No ties."

Logan looks down at her sadly, reaching for her arm. "Veronica…"

She flinches from his touch. "I get it. You're a lone wolf."

"Veronica…" he repeats, but she turns and walks out of the room, trying desperately not to let her emotions show.

She climbs into the bed, turning her back to the bathroom and sweeping her fingers across her face, wiping away the few tears that have leaked out. She does understand, she does get it… but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

No ties, huh? What about me, Logan?

The funeral is brutal. It's the only way Logan can describe it. It isn't the first military funeral he's attended, but it's the first one where he's actually known the deceased, has been friends with him; it's the first one where he's actually been part of the ceremony.

There are about a hundred people here, sitting on white folding chairs arranged in rows on the stone patio in the middle of the cemetery. Bilbo's photo is displayed on an easel, a US flag hanging behind it and his wife, Allison sitting just in front, with Anthony in her lap.

The music starts and Logan helps Chaos, Cosmo and the other pallbearers slide the coffin, flag draped across it, from the white hearse. They get into position as the senior officer standing beside them calls for a salute. The procession begins and Logan spots Veronica standing near the back, her hand on her heart along with everyone else. She's so close that as he passes by, he has to resist the urge to reach out and touch her.

They place the coffin down beside the photo of Bilbo and he passes Veronica again on the way to their seats; he forces himself to keep his eyes straight ahead and not look at her, because if he does, he might break down.

The eulogy passes in a blur; Logan barely hears the words, his attention focused on the casket, memories of his squadron-mate, his friend, flitting through his mind. Before he knows it, the eulogy is over and the three-volley salute begins. He nods to Chaos and they move to the casket again, lifting the flag and folding it meticulously. Logan chances a glance at Chaos; his friend's eyes are wet and red-rimmed. He nods in understanding as Taps plays behind them.

When the flag is folded, Logan steps over to Allison, kneeling before her and taking her hand, trying to convey his condolences the best he can without words, before he hands the flag to her.

The ceremony ends with the traditional Missing Man flyover, the four jets, piloted by members of his old squadron at Lemoore, sweeping across the horizon in unison before one separates from the other three, climbing high into the sky. He's flown that formation before, has been that lone pilot in the formation, hurtling upwards.

It's a fucking humbling experience.

It's in that moment that he makes the decision. He has to go back, he needs to. This is what he's good at; it's what saved him, made his life worth living again. He needs it. It's what he has to do.

When his pallbearer duties are over, Logan heads back to the gathering of mourners. He spots Veronica as he moves through the crowd; she's talking with some of his squadron-mates' wives. If he didn't know her so well, he would think she's comfortable with them, but he knows her, knows her tells. She feels out of place here.

He approaches the group, relaxing when Veronica notices him. She gives Cathy an apologetic smile before turning and walking toward him. He doesn't smile, can't smile, but softens his expression the best he can as she approaches.

She stops in front of him and he can't trust himself to speak, so he simply studies her. Her gaze drops to the stripes on his uniform and he watches with concern as tears well up in her eyes. She steps close, sliding her arms around his waist, letting her head drop to his chest. Logan holds her tight, his chin resting against her head as he closes his eyes.

"You're going back, aren't you?" she asks, voice muffled against his dress shirt.

He nods. "I'm sorry. I have to."

When Logan lets himself into Veronica's apartment late Wednesday morning, he hears her voice floating through the living room from her bedroom. With a smile, he toes off his shoes and moves across the hardwood floor.

"Why don't you go chew up Daddy's things?" she sounds annoyed, but what gets him is the use of the word 'Daddy'. "He has a bomber jacket just begging for some puncture marks."

"I heard that," Logan speaks up, coming around the corner and leaning against the doorframe, sliding his free hand into his pocket.

Veronica is crouched on the floor in front of Pony, who has one of her boots in her mouth. She looks flustered, but smiles when she sees him, standing up and walking across the room.

"You're home. I didn't hear the door." She leans up, kisses him on the lips.

He grins, pushing away from the doorframe and assuming a boxing stance in response to her words. "It's my advanced military training. They teach you to move like a panther."

"Oh, yeah?" She grins, running her hands down over his chest. "Is there a lot of call for stealth in the cockpit of a sixty-million-dollar fighter jet?"

"The SEALS aren't the only ones with moves." He walks past her, into the bedroom. Pony bounds over to him and he leans down to pet her, grinning when she licks his chin. "How're my girls?"

"Well, one of us peed in your shoe, and the other barked all morning," she says, deadpan.

He looks around the room, noticing the half-packed suitcase open on the bed. He frowns.

"What's up? You going somewhere?"

"Just for one night. I have to fly out to Vegas for the case." She wraps her arms around his neck. "I should be back tomorrow afternoon."

He's about to voice his disappointment, but then she steps back, looking down at the envelope in his hand and frowns. "What's all that?"

"My paperwork, to go back on the ship." He pulls out the papers. "It's going in the mail this afternoon."

They want him to go back next week, so he's been given special leave to prepare and has been spending the last few days filling out paperwork and attending appointments with his dentist, doctor and financial advisors. He's well aware that she's not happy he's leaving, even though she's pretending she's okay with it. She takes another step back, letting go of him, and he raises his eyebrows.

"Okay, let me have it." He gestures with his hands. "Again. Give me your best Columbia Law School try."

"I'm out of ideas." Her tone is light, but he can tell it's forced. "Unless you think a rendition of 'Billy Don't Be a Hero' will work."

He sighs. "Nothing's going to happen to me. These guys we're fighting, they don't have anything that can take down a Hornet."

Her expression tightens, her eyes turning stormy.

"You do realise I just went to a military funeral, don't you?" There's anger in her tone and Logan's heart sinks. I should've known this was coming. "And there are Wikipedia pages about every single aviation accident in naval history?"

His jaw clenches, feeling a rush of irritation.

"Come on, Veronica. I don't do this to you. The stuff you do is at least as risky as what I do," he says, his voice tight. He's trying to keep his cool, but it's not easy when she's snapping at him. "I mean, you're off to Vegas to do God knows what. You work crazy hours; you deal with dangerous people. I don't like it, but I've learned to accept that it's the price of admission."

Veronica's eyes widen slightly, her cheeks flushing. "How long have you been holding on to that argument?"

He folds his arms across his chest. "Well, it is the obvious one."

Her hands rise in annoyance her eyes flashing. "Look, I'm not saying you don't have the right to do exactly what you've made up your mind to do. I'm just saying, don't act like it's nothing. Don't act like it's just another day at work. It's a big deal, Logan. You could be hurt. I could—"

She stops suddenly, but Logan's pretty sure he knows what was going to come next. He wills her to say it, but she just takes a deep breath, then quickly looks down at her watch.

"Look, I have to go. I can't miss my flight. We can talk about this later."

She starts to move past him, but he stops her with a hand on her arm. She looks up at him, eyes filled with both frustration and sadness.

"No," he says firmly.

"What?"

"No, we're gonna talk about this now."

"Logan, I can't." She shakes her head. "My flight…"

"So?" he says dismissively. "I'll get you on the next one."

"No. I'm done talking right now."

"Well, I'm not."

Her jaw twitches and she yanks her arm from his grip, staring up at him expectantly. "So talk."

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing here." His eyes narrow as he studies her. "You're picking a fight so you don't have to deal with your feelings, and doing it right before you have to leave on a trip so I can't respond." She just raises an eyebrow, arms crossed over her chest. "Veronica, what were you going to say just now?"

She shakes her head. "That's not gonna work, Logan. You're the one who wants to talk."

"Oh, please. You know my feelings here; you're the one holding back. Come on, get it all out."

"Logan…" she says warningly.

"Okay, I'll finish it for you: I could… have to stay in this apartment all alone…" He throws out the first trivial thing that comes to mind. Not that he actually thinks she would care about that, but he's trying to goad her into admitting the truth. "Or I could… have to look after Pony by myself, or I could—"

"I could lose you, okay?" The words burst from her lips. "God, Logan. I just got you back and now you're leaving again."

Well, shit. Now I feel like a dick.

"Veronica…" He reaches for her, but she turns away.

"You might never come back."

"I will," he says softly, stepping up behind her, running his hands down her arms.

"You don't know that," she counters. "Bilbo didn't."

Logan closes his eyes, pressing his lips together as an image of Bilbo flits through his mind.

"I-I know." His voice cracks and he winces. "I'm not saying it isn't a risk, but I can't let that stop me from stepping up and doing the job I was trained to do."

"Logan…"

"Like I said, your job is dangerous, too," he cuts her off. "You could get killed out there and I wouldn't be able to do a thing to stop it. And I know you'll still keep doing it no matter what I think, so all I can do is accept it, trust that you'll be safe, and not focus on what might happen."

Her shoulders lift and a shuddering breath escapes her lips. She turns, sliding her arms around his waist and resting her forehead against his chest.

"I know. I'm sorry."

Logan lifts his hand beneath her hair, cups her jaw and brings her head up, forcing her to make eye contact. "Me, too."

He gives her a small smile, his thumb stroking her cheek as he leans in and touches his lips to hers. It's a small, soft kiss, but as she responds, it conveys everything they're both feeling.