Chapter Seven

Veronica's exhausted by the time she gets home from Vegas the next afternoon. She spent the night before tossing and turning, her mind whirring, her thoughts stuck on both the missing pieces of the puzzle in her case and also on Logan leaving so soon. He's due to ship out again on Tuesday—the Navy is flying him to Norfolk, Virginia, then over to Italy and down to the Mediterranean, where the Truman is currently located—which only gives them a few more days together.

She lets herself into the apartment and blinks for a moment at the sight of Logan sitting at the kitchen counter, his back to her. She's not used to him being home during the day but he's on leave now until he ships out, so he's around a lot more right now.

"Hey," she says as she pulls off her jacket and slips out of her shoes.

Logan doesn't respond, doesn't even look up to acknowledge her, just keeps staring at something on the counter. Veronica frowns.

"Everything okay?" She crosses the room. "Logan, what's-?"

She stops, the words catching in her throat as she reaches his side and sees what's sitting in front of him: a bottle of whisky and a half-filled glass. He's staring at the glass intently, palms flat on the counter on either side of it.

Shit.

"Logan…" she starts cautiously, trying to keep her voice calm, though she's panicking inside. "What are you doing?"

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, gaze fixed on the three fingers of whisky in the glass.

"I was in the grocery store earlier," he says after a long moment. "We needed carrots for dinner. I wasn't paying attention, ended up in the liquor aisle. I was just standing there, staring at the bottles, trying to find a reason not to buy one." He shrugs helplessly. "Next thing I knew, I was walking out with this."

"Logan…" Veronica's heart leaps into her throat at the implication in his words. "Please tell me you haven't…"

"Oh, I haven't drunk any," he says. "Not yet, anyway."

"And you're not going to," she says firmly.

"I want to," he admits, sparing her only a quick, anguished glance before returning to the alcohol. "I really want to."

"No, you don't," she tells him resolutely. "You've worked too hard and for too long to take even a sip. You're better than this."

"Am I?" he murmurs. "Sometimes it doesn't feel like it."

Veronica studies his profile; he looks tired, and lost. She slides her hand over his arm, fingers wrapping around his wrist.

"Of course you are."

He shakes his head sadly. "Would it really matter? Just one drink?"

"Yes," Veronica says urgently. "You know it would.

Memories of her mother's many failed attempts to stop drinking flitted through her mind.

'Just one more tonight, Keith. I'll stop tomorrow, I promise.'

She never did.

"Logan, you can't do this," she tells him. "You've just reached eight years sober. Eight. That's a massive achievement. Don't throw it away now."

Logan nods, though his gaze is still fixed on the bottle and the glass. Veronica reaches over and picks them up, crossing the room and tipping the contents of the glass down the sink, before stashing the bottle out of sight in a cupboard, for disposal later.

Turning back around, she finds him sitting with his head in his hands. She moves back to the counter, resting her forearms on it, leaning in as she watches him cautiously.

"What's going on, Logan?" she asks softly.

He sighs, running his hands through his hair, before he lifts his head, looking at her, his expression stricken. "Bilbo's gone."

"I know." Veronica straightens, moving closer and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"He was a good man. He didn't deserve to die."

"No, he didn't," she agrees.

"You know, we're trained to deal with this, to carry on with the mission, even if something goes wrong," he says softly. "We're trained to block out our emotions."

Veronica's not sure what she can say to that.

"When I'm out there, on the ship, flying missions, I can do that," he adds. "But here… back home, where there's no danger, no pressure…"

"You can't block it out anymore," she finishes, understanding dawning.

He nods. "I'm trying to, but it's not working."

He closes his eyes for a second and when he opens them again, she can see tears collecting in the corners.

It's then that Veronica realises he's been bottling up all his emotions since he found out about Bilbo. He hasn't cried once, not even at the funeral. He's been trying to stay strong, to pretend he's fine and take it in stride, but underneath, he's falling apart.

"You have to go, don't you," she says, more of a statement than a question. "Not because you think the job is more important, or because it's what you chose to do, but because you need to. Because if you don't go, you might not be able to deal with your grief."

"Yeah." His head bows. "I have to get back out there. I need the discipline and the structure; I need to keep busy. And I have to prove, to myself at least, that Bilbo didn't die in vain, that this war is worth putting our lives on the line for, is worth serving our country for."

He looks back up at her, his expression solemn.

"I know you're not happy about me leaving, Veronica, but I'm not doing this to spite you or because I don't value our relationship," he says seriously. "It's something I need do it for me, for my own self-preservation, so I can keep my head above water, so I don't end up wallowing in self-pity and falling off the wagon."

"Logan…"

Veronica swallows harshly, feeling a lump forming in her throat.

"I know you're scared I won't come back, but I don't want to be scared to get back out there again." He reaches for her hand, entwines their fingers.

"I am scared," she admits. "I don't want to lose you again, not to some freak air accident, and definitely not to booze."

"Same here," he says. "I don't want to lose you, but I can't lose myself either."

His eyes fall closed again and Veronica studies him for a long moment, before she opens her mouth to speak. She means to say, 'You won't', but that's not what comes out.

"I love you."

It's only when Logan's eyes snap open and he stares at her in surprise that she realises what she's said. There's one heart-stopping moment when she wishes she could take it back, but the look of wonder and adoration on his face makes her realise she doesn't want to. It's something that's been coming for a long time, something she should have told him ages ago.

"You…?"

Her lips curl up in a soft smile and she lifts her free hand to cup his jaw.

"I love you, Logan," she tells him. "I know I haven't said it enough—or at all—but I do. So much."

He just stares at her for a moment, before swallowing roughly. When he replies, his voice is tight with emotion. "I love you, too, Veronica."

Her heart skips a beat in response to the words. Nine, almost ten years ago, she used to panic when he said them, unable to deal with the depth of his feelings, but now they fill her with warmth and happiness. She rises up, leans in and presses her mouth to his. His lips are soft and warm. She extracts her hand from his, bringing it up to the back of his neck, holding him close, as his arm winds around her.

"I'm not going to try to make you stay," she whispers when they part, mouth barely an inch from his. "I get that this is something you have to do."

"It is," he says, lifting his hand, letting his fingers slide through her hair.

"But, you have to promise you'll be safe, and careful, and that you'll come back to me again."

"I will do everything in my power to make that happen," he tells her sincerely.

He leans in for another kiss, but she stops him. "And promise me you won't go near the liquor again."

He nods, looking at her seriously. "I promise."

She traces the side of his face with her fingers. "You know, you can talk to me about anything, too. Don't think you have to keep all this bottled up."

"I know."

She steps back, entangling herself from his arms and holding out a hand to him. "Come on, let's go to bed."

Two hours later, Veronica is woken from her much-needed sleep by a muffled noise from Logan's side of the bed. Startled, she turns, finding him curled on his side, his back to her. He's crying.

"Hey." She reaches out, rests her hand on his shoulder. "It's okay."

He sucks in a shuddering breath, turning to face her. She can only just make out his features in the dim light of the room, but from what she can see, he looks a mess, his eyes puffy and face tear-streaked.

She shifts closer, sliding her arms around him. "It's okay. I'm here. Just let it go."

He buries his face in her neck, holding her tight as he breaks down in her arms.

Logan watches with a bittersweet smile as Pony plays in the surf. Veronica is lounging beside him on the beach, legs stretched out in front of her, ankles crossed as she leans back on her hands. The remains of a picnic sit on a blanket before them. It's late Monday afternoon and he leaves for deployment in less than 18 hours.

Since Thursday, since he almost fell off the wagon and Veronica talked him out of it, things have been… confusing. He's been trying to savour the time he has left with her, to make it last, but inside… well, he needs to get back out there, because he can't stop thinking about that glass of whisky, about how good it would feel sliding down his throat—the burn, the satisfying buzz, the pleasure he knows the alcohol would bring.

He needs to get back to the routine and discipline, back into the game again. He knows how much Veronica wants him to stay, but for the sake of his own sanity, he has to go back.

"This is nice," murmurs Veronica, lifting her face toward the warm November sun.

"Yeah," Logan says. "It is."

"So…. the bar exam results are out on Friday."

"This Friday?" Logan asks in surprise. To be honest, with everything going on lately, her bar exam had slipped his mind.

"Yeah." Veronica gives a nod. "And you won't be here to celebrate—or commiserate—with me."

"Veronica—"

"No, don't." She shakes her head, sitting up, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. "That wasn't supposed to be a guilt trip. I just realised how much you're gonna miss while you're away." She sighs. "The bar results, Thanksgiving next week, Christmas, New Year…"

"I know." He reaches across, takes her hand. "And I'm sorry I won't be here. I wish I could be. You're definitely going to be celebrating on Friday though; you won't need anyone to commiserate with you."

She gives a small smile, glancing over at him. "Thanks."

She looks out at the surf again, her eyes on Pony, who is excitedly playing in the waves.

"God, how am I going to raise Pony without you?" she says softly. "You know what happens to puppies who don't have a strong masculine figure around. She'll grow up with daddy issues."

Logan frowns, focusing on the dog.

"Veronica, you know we can do this, right?" He turns to her when she doesn't answer right away. She's looking down at their joined hands. "Well, that's reassuring."

"Sorry. That's not…" She looks over at him, sliding her sunglasses up onto her head. "Look, I know you have to go, and I understand why, but the thought of not being able to see you every day… it hurts."

Logan's heart clenches at her pained expression.

"I know." He shifts, releasing her hand and sliding his arm around her shoulders, hugging her close. "And it's the same for me, too. Don't think I'm not gonna miss you like crazy while I'm gone."

Pony bounds up to them then, showering them both with water. Veronica points a finger at her sternly.

"Sit." When the puppy simply licks her finger and starts running in circles, she turns to him and says lightly, "You see? She's already acting out. It's a cry for help."

"Very funny," he replies dryly.

He reaches out and catch Pony's collar between his fingers as she tries to dart past him, tugging her close so she's sitting on the other side of him.

"Look," he says when the dog settles down. "Let's just make the most of the next few hours, because we have to spend another two months apart and I want to leave here with fucking good memories, not crappy ones."

She smiles then, a soft laugh escaping her mouth. "Do you mean fucking good memories, or memories of good fucking?"

He grins. "Both."

"Well, okay, then, Lieutenant," she says as she moves away from him and starts gathering their things. "Let's get right on that."

When they get back to the apartment, Veronica tasks Logan with clearing away the picnic remnants and feeding Pony, while she heads for the bedroom, which he strongly suspects means she has something up her sleeve for tonight. He gets the puppy fed, then starts washing the dishes as a distraction, because if he thinks about what Veronica is planning, he's not going to be able to stop himself striding right into that bedroom after her.

She calls his name a few minutes later and with barely a moment of hesitation, he checks that Pony's okay, then walks over to her bedroom door, opening it slowly and blinking at the sight that greets him.

The lights are turned off and there are flickering candles dotted around the room. She's kneeling on the bed, dressed in the shirt from his service khaki uniform—the same shirt he has to wear tomorrow morning—and the matching cap, her hair tucked up underneath it. Logan's mouth falls open as his gaze rakes over her; he thought nothing could beat seeing her in his dress whites, but this comes pretty damn close.

He tries to say something eloquent, but all that comes out is, "Shit…"

She must take it as the compliment it was intended to be because she grins. "You like?"

"Fuck, yeah." Again with the eloquence.

She crooks a finger at him. "Come here."

Nodding dumbly, he walks over to the bottom of the bed, coming to a stop a foot or so short. Veronica tuts, rising up on her knees and reaching for his belt loops, hooking her fingers in them and tugging him close.

"Geez, Veronica," he murmurs, sliding his hand up to cup her neck. "You walk around looking like that and I'll never leave."

"Well, that was the plan," she murmurs softly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. His eyes follow the movement. "Just wait 'til you see what's underneath."

Logan swallows audibly, heat rushing to his groin as his gaze flicks down to the buttons on the shirt. He feels the sudden urge to rip them off. Except he can't, because it's his uniform shirt and he needs it.

"You know this is the shirt I have to wear in the morning, right?"

"Yep." She smiles, a wicked glint in her eye. "That's the point. Now it's Veronica approved."

Shit, he thinks. Now I'm in trouble. I'm gonna have to spend the whole journey surrounded by her.

"Now you just sit back, relax," she says, urging him to sit on the end of the bed. He quickly obliges and she straddles his hips, lowering her mouth to his ear. "And let me show you a good time."

She kisses the spot just below his ear, then tugs his earlobe into her mouth, sucking on it gently and causing him to shudder.

"V'ronica…"

He flattens his palms on her bare thighs, sliding them up under her shirt. He's almost reached her underwear when she slaps his hands away.

"Nuh, uh, not yet," she scolds. "First, this is coming off."

Her hands slip beneath the hem of his polo shirt and his stomach muscles contract involuntarily as fingers glide across his skin. She pulls it up and he helps her tug it over his head.

"And these." Her fingers find his belt buckle and she undoes it quickly, them fumbles with the button of his jeans.

"Up," he says, indicating for her to stand. "Let me."

She slides off his lap and he stands beside her, stepping out of the jeans. Her gaze flicks down to his boxer-covered crotch, biting her lip. Heat pools, throbbing deep in his belly and he swallows.

Her eyes lift to his again, but now there's a predatory glint in them. She pushes at his chest, sending him back down onto the bed. He breaks the fall with his arms, leaning back on his elbows as she climbs atop him, settling in his lap.

This time, he can feel the lace of her panties and the heat of her arousal against his skin and his eyes drop to the buttons of the shirt once more.

"So, do I get to see yet?"

"Nope." She grins.

She leans down so their lips are almost touching, and Logan struggles to keep his upper body supported on his forearms as she closes the gap. Her kiss is soft and tender and full of promise, and it makes his stomach clench with anticipation. She starts kissing a trail down over his chest and he shifts so he's lying down fully. She takes her time, his eyes falling closed as she kisses and licks her way down his body until she reaches the elastic of his boxers. He waits for her to tug them down, to free him, but when nothing happens, he opens his eyes to find her looking up at him with desire. She holds his gaze as she presses a gentle kiss to his arousal, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

"Fuck…"

She continues to hold eye contact as she cups him through the boxers, stroking gently. Logan watches from under hooded eyes, heart beating fast, breath coming in short pants, as she caresses and teases. Carefully, she releases him from the confines of his boxers, and Logan can't help the moan that escapes his lips in response. He lifts his hips so she can tug the boxers off, but when he reaches for her, she swats him away, instead taking him in her mouth.

"God, Veronica…"

It's almost too much, all this feeling, this sensation. This is the first time since the funeral that their lovemaking has been just about them, in the moment, and not tainted with sorrow or desperation or comfort. He can feel the tension building, prepares himself for the fallout, but just when he thinks she's going to give him the release he's seeking, she stops, sliding back up his body again.

"Wha…?" he mumbles incoherently.

She smiles down at him, expression filled with adoration and love as she reaches for the top button of the shirt. One by one, she unbuttons it, and Logan watches her movements intently, his fingers itching to reach up and do it for her.

When the final button is done and the shirt falls open, Logan sucks in a breath at what he sees beneath: a sexy, red push-up bra, a combination of lace and satin, and a pair of matching panties.

"Wow…" he breathes, reaching out to trace the material with one finger. "Red satin, huh?"

"Yeah… guess Lilly was right."

"She always was."

Veronica slips out of the shirt, letting it fall to the floor, then lifts the cap from her head. Her hair spills down over her shoulders and Logan sucks in a breath. She looks fucking amazing.

"Come here." He gestures for her and she obliges lowering herself down to him. His hand drifts over her shoulder, pushing her hair back as he cups her neck and brings her mouth down to his. "I love you."

"Love you, too." It feels so good to hear her say it, and to be able to say it to her without worrying it'll scare her off.

He kisses her again, free hand sliding around to her back and fumbling with the clasp of her bra until he manages to unhook it. She slips out of it, then makes her way back down his body again, her hair tickling his stomach as she palms his length, wrapping her fingers around it and giving a long, slow stroke.

"God…" He murmurs in pleasure.

Moving off the bed, she steps out of her panties, then crawls up over him again, positioning herself above him and enveloping him in her tight, wet heat. She feels incredible… too incredible. His eyes widen as he realises why.

"Wait," he says breathlessly. "Condom."

Veronica doesn't move, just shakes her head, her eyes dark and lust-filled. "You're clean, right?"

"Of course."

"So am I. And I'm on the pill." Her voice drops to a whisper as she says, "Logan, I want to feel you. All of you."

Logan frowns, hesitant. "Are you sure?"

It's not like Veronica to throw caution to the wind like this. All the time they were together before, and the last few months as well, she's been insistent on taking any and all precautions, and after what happened to her at that party in high school, he can't blame her.

"Yes, I'm sure," she says firmly, sinking down before he can stop her, taking all of him in.

"Oh, fuck," he mutters as he slides easily inside; the feel of her surrounding him, hot and tight and wet, with no barriers, is unbelievable.

"Oh, holy…" she murmurs, her voice breathy, restrained. "God… yeah…"

Logan lets her take the lead, his hands resting on her hips, as she rocks above him in a slow, steady rhythm. Fuck, it's so much better like this, so much more intimate. He wants to touch her, kiss her, to hold her tight against him, so he snakes one hand up over her back, pressing down, urging her close. She complies, leaning forward enough that he can kiss her, her bare chest brushing against his. The shift in position gives him the opportunity to roll them over, trapping her beneath him.

She whimpers in disappointment when he breaks the kiss and slides out of her, but he simply smiles, leaning down to whisper in her ear, "Turn over."

She gives him a slightly quizzical look, but complies, shifting onto her stomach, resting her head on her hands. Logan's gaze roams the vast expanse of smooth, bare skin displayed before him, from her shoulder blades, down to the small of her back and lower still to the curve of her ass. With a grin, he lowers his mouth to the back of her neck, giving a small chuckle when she gasps, then leaves a trail of light, gentle kisses down her spine.

"God, Logan," she murmurs, squirming beneath him when he reaches a particularly sensitive spot.

His hands slide down over the back of her thighs, parting her legs so he can kneel between them. Grabbing a pillow, he urges her up, slipping it beneath her, then lets his fingers slide between her lower lips, brushing her clit, teasing her entrance.

She gasps in response, her hips rocking back, seeking more contact, and Logan grins, settling into position, hands resting on the mattress either side of her. As he slides inside her welcoming body, a hitching gasp escapes her lips, her eyes closing in pleasure. Bracing his elbows on the mattress, he lowers his chest to her back, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

"This okay?"

"Uh huh." She nods, eyes still closed. "More than okay."

He begins to move, slowly at first, letting them both get used to the new position, but then faster as they get the hang of it, their bodies sliding together, the sweet tension building. It's not long before she's rising up on her knees, back arched, forearms resting on the pillow, striving to get closer as he kneels behind her, his hands clutching at her hips, stroking deeper with every thrust.

"Oh God. Oh. God. Oh, God," Veronica mutters over and over. "I need… fuck, I need…"

He doesn't really know what she needs, but gathers it's something more, so he curls his hands around her waist and pulls her up so her back is flush with his chest. Supporting her in his lap, her knees slipping either side of his, and not breaking the rhythm of his strokes, he kisses the base of her neck, grinning when she shudders beneath him. His hand finds its way between her legs and she moans when he begins stroking and teasing her clit.

"Not enough," she mutters breathlessly, moving her own hand down, covering his, guiding his movements. "Like this."

Their fingers slide together against her clit and it only takes a few moments before she's arching back against him, her head falling to his shoulder, gasping loudly as the orgasm rips through her.

"Oh, fuck… yes, Logan…right there…"

When her movements slow, her body relaxing against him, he says softly, "You good?"

"Uh, huh…"

"You mind if I…?"

He leaves the sentence hanging, hoping she'll catch his meaning. She simply nods and shifts forward, arms on the pillow, supporting her head as she lifts her bottom, bracing her weight on her knees. He grasps her hips as he straightens and picks up the rhythm again, thrusting long, hard and deep, fingers digging into her skin. She aids his movement, pushing back against him, meeting him stroke for stroke, until he tips over the edge himself, spilling inside her.

Spent, he collapses over her, sliding his arm around her waist and shifting so they're curled up together, spooning. He's still inside her, but he can't bring himself to break the contact.

"Wow…" she murmurs breathily.

"Yeah…" It's as articulate as he can get right now.

"That was pretty amazing."

"It was." And apparently he can only manage one-syllable words.

He kisses the back of her neck and she turns in his arms, breaking their intimate connection so she can snuggle close, her arm around his waist and her nose pressed against his chest. Logan reaches for a blanket from the chair beside the bed and tugs it over them.

"God, I'm gonna miss this," she mumbles, her warm breath tickling his skin. "I'm gonna miss you."

"Me, too," he agrees, his chest tightening at the thought of having to leave in a few hours. "So much."

Logan glances around the candlelit room. He frowns when his gaze falls on a new picture frame next to the bed.

"Hey, what's that?"

"What's what?" She lifts her head, looking up at him quizzically.

"That photo."

He nods behind her and she turns to look, reaching over and picking up the frame, handing it to him as she settles next to him.

It's a photo of him, in profile, at the beach, watching the waves.

"When did you take this?"

"A few weeks ago—that day we drove up the coast and you dropped me in the ocean."

He winces. "Yeah, sorry about that."

She grins. "Well, at least you rescued the camera, or I wouldn't have this."

"It's a great photo," he murmurs. "And I'm not just saying that because I'm the subject."

"Yeah, it came out really well," she agrees.

"You're really good."

She shrugs. "Yeah, well, my dad always said my photography skills were wasted on cheating spouses and sordid trysts at The Camelot."

"You ever try it for real? Photography?"

She shrugs. "I took a class as an elective when I was at Stanford, but nothing ever really came of it."

"You should give it a go sometime," he suggests. "Might be a nice break from work."

"Yeah, maybe."

Logan places the photo down on the table beside the bed, before sliding his arm around her again and tugging her close so she's pressed against his side. As she drifts off to sleep, Logan casts his eyes to the ceiling.

He knows he's doing the right thing by going back overseas again, he just wishes he didn't have to do it without her. What I wouldn't give for her to come with me. Then again, that would be a terrible idea… she would hate being on the ship, not to mention, fraternisation on board is completely forbidden, and he knows from experience—back in senior year of high school—that the only thing worse than being apart from her is having her right there in front of him and still not being able to have her.