Hey guys! Here is the first chapter of the sequel to Those Nine Years. It kind of came to me, and took a crazy turn. I hope you like it! Please let me know your thoughts, as reviews make my day :)

This story picks up a few weeks after where the book finishes. It will have a little different feel to it than the last story. It will still jump around in time, but it has an actual sequence to the story and even a mystery to it this time.

Thanks for reading!

Veronica:

Tick, tock, tick tock. I swear Mac purchased the old clock just to taunt me. My very unattractive growl reeks with everything not feminine as I take in the display of my combat boots hiked up on the desk. These treasures had been resurrected from the grave a lot here recently, me secretly so glad I had not decided to pitch them two years ago when I was determined to do that closet cleaning. Truth was it was the sappy inner girl in me, the one that liked the feeling of military edge to them. They had to be at least somewhat similar to the type he wore.

My sighs are so dramatic these days. Dramatic and room consuming. I was not beyond a pity party, and everyone had taken notice. Boyfreind gone on deployment was a good enough reason to throw yourself the sad party every now and then, right?

130 down- 60 more to go. The inner countdown was something as involuntary as breathing now. I could almost see the pieces of paper being ripped off the calendar each day or that huge timer counting down the seconds in large numbers.

I stare at the pile of papers before me, the recent buzz of the case I solved hitting national news, had been good for the business. The work was failing though. It was my distraction, my only distraction from my chaotic world. With the case that launched my career brought a hundred other problems- mom back into my life- with hey! The surprise of a baby brother. And as always mom brought each one of her dirty garments with her. Dad and Cliff had been working by her side non stop to try and prove her innocence. That her husband acted alone, that she was unaware. Me? Well, I was noticeably absent, though I hated to admit the extra runs for ice cream with the little brother had started to warm the cold spots of my heart. The attachment was not one I was looking for, but as I have learned you can't quite control who your heart latches on to.

Speaking of-

I click the refresh button on my email as I frown. No emails, none in seven days and well the silence is almost like a torture chamber. I am sure I am being dramatic, but like I said drama and longing and all of those other girly emotions are well.. Just me now. Logan Echolls, you went and made a sap out of me. I smirk at the thought. He always tried hard too, I gave him an A for effort.

The hot sun rays trickle through the large windows, and sometimes I try to blame my lack of motivation on the heat wave. But me and everyone else know how untrue that is.

Click again, same frown appears only deeper lines. I hated the stomach clenching, burning pit the radio silence caused. My mind liked to play fill in the blank- and a week with no email, no contact. Suddenly my cynical and doubtful side was taking over.

The bell on the door chimes and I always laugh at the fact that dad had installed one. Weren't those for places trying to portray warmth and joy? Weren't we anything but those descriptions?

I inwardly let out a long slur of groans and expletives at the sight I am sure I am about to see. Another woman wanting my services to prove her husband is... You fill in the blank. I have seen every rendition or scenario that could possibly play out. Call me jaded or maybe I am just missing my man, but this world seemed nastier than normal.

Logan. His face flashes, with all its dimpled glory and all its charm. Warmth and joy were never lost on me with him present.

I hear the clop of shoes in the doorway, based on the sound it is a man and I peak up with interest at the change in clientele as I snap the large lap top screen in front of me shut to get a better look at my new customer.

Bright blue eyes, and tousled hair. I had seen that face a million times, and now it rings with a distant remembrance. Like something placed far in the recesses of your mind, though I had just known it so well only months ago. I swallow hard and he seems to delight in my jaw to floor expression. Like he had been expectantly looking forward to it.

"Piz.." My voice is raspy as he walks in further.

"Veronica Mars, I need your help."

Logan:

Lungs restrict, as the icy liquid pours in through my mouth and nose. Startled with clenched hands and jaw, my body shakes in waves as I grip the wall behind me. The water droplets trickle down my cheeks as a seething glare now takes over my worn face.

The man holding the bucket gnashes his teeth before bursting in taunting laughter. It didn't matter that he spoke a different language. Mocking sounds the same in every language. It was universal. He speaks fervently and hastily, me only making out bits and pieces of the Arabic. I knew very little, but as far as I could tell pig and dog were mentioned. My eyes glazed with a pain I pushed back as death slurred from his lips, the beard around them wet with sweat and the lines of his face worn with bitterness. Seems that was universal as well, the aged lines of loathing and hate.

The groans from the corner make my eyes dart, Louis stirring as he moaned from the fresh scars they painted his back with yesterday. He was younger than me, by several years and the way he now looked at me much resembled a child searching for security. I nodded now with resolve and the look of no terror I wore well seemed to bring him an ounce of peace, before his assigned guard began the screaming again.

I pressed my back against the wall as I still numbly stared at the raging man in front of me. My body flinches, the scars on my backside now stinging as I adjusted. I had sworn to never let a new patch of forever wounds land on my skin. That was until the day I became a prisoner of war. Now, in five days I had already gained a cluster of new friends to join the ones my father gave. My captors had more fierce ways to inflict pain, but somehow I had found a shred of thankfulness for the bastard of a father I had been granted. He prepared me for this. For the beating of my life.

I had learned that angry men eventually run out of words to say, at least for a time being. Just keep silent and wait. Keep my usual edge and snark under control and just wait. That was all I could do, and Louis seemed to learn from me as he mimicked the behavior. That always sigh of relief fills me as the men we knew so little of, but who hated us greatly, left.

I shut my eyes,head slamming against the wall. "You okay?" I ask the young boy across the room.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah." His voice shook. "I am fine."

Fine. I held back the scoff. We were anything but fine. One moment you are executing a mission. Two planes sent out for a quick and easy job- the next beyond anyone's help as you are shot down from the sky. What was supposed to be a stealth attack failed and now you are left up to the hope that maybe they will find you. That maybe you wont rot here, or worse be killed before your brothers even have a hope of finding you.

I growl in discmofort as the stinging pain returns, my body going limp as I find a spot to curl into on the dirt covered floor. The sounds of the distant guards yelling and the churning smell of putrid decay are all around us. The mildew hangs in the air, and the blood is caked across our bodies. Our flight suits are now tattered rags from each flogging we endured. Me getting their wrath more as I purposefully would piss them off as they zeroed in on the man with me. I knew I could endure it better, had better chances of surviving. I had some experience.

Bleak is the only word that comes to mind in this living embodiment of hell. The fear and gnaw of what I have to lose is all over me, though my outward signs scream of apathy. I wanted her, I wanted more than this. The vivid scenes of our "what could have been" life plays out before me. I have plenty of time to create the scenes, and hell I know it is morbid considering my circumstances and the chances and odds. But I do it anyways.

The beach house, I had decided was modest in size like she wanted, four bedrooms and 3 baths. Blue siding on the outside and a long porch overlooking the sandy beaches. The kitchen was full of white cabinets and gray granite, the perfect blend of modern and comfort that we found in the middle of our tastes. I could almost smell the coffee, and feel the wind with my board in hand trudging up the surf. My senses play at me as a I grip the dirt, the reality that I may never feel the soft sand again or the salt water against my skin. The burning comfort it possessed as it washed over me.

Porch in sight her blonde hair sweeps across her face, and I have seen the sight so many times it fills every part of my memory. Her waiting at the end of the beach for me as I return. It is simple and yet heart warming, especially with the pigtails that peak out from behind her legs. I smile now, dimples and blonde hair, my brown eyes and her button nose. I see it like it was truly before me and I mourn for what never will be.

Her voice reverberates in my ear. I know exactly what she would say. "Looking good." Or "We have a few minutes before my man comes back."

That would be the way she greeted me, coffee in hand. I think of how I would kiss her like it's my last time. I know full and well that the last time has already occurred and there is no regret present. As I would do it the exact same way as I did. Slow and sweet, full of the presence of all she was, and will always be to me. Until my days run out. I swallow hard at the numbered days I was now facing. I am not scared of dying. It was a risk we all took when joining. Hell, I knew death was always following me closely, all my life. What I was scared of was far more frightening than death. I was scared of wherever I ended up. That place I knew she would not inhabit.

Giggles are now loudly playing through out my head, drawing me back into the alternate world. The one where I got everything I wanted. A lifetime with her.

I had never been around enough children to know the sound well, but somehow it as clear as a bell as I wrap the combination of me and the person I loved most, in my arms. She is perfection in human form, and the shocking sensation of the same level of love being dispersed towards her hits me like a stake to the heart. Never had I thought I could love anyone as much as Veronica and now I see the possibility staring me right in the face. The possibility I am missing out on.

Veronica groans and huffs towards the house. "The boy gets up every hour on the hour. So glad we can afford my coffee addiction." My face scrunches as she eyes me. "You get her dressed and I will take junior Echolls. He tends to be moody like his daddy."

I chuckle with a laughter and sob, the action almost escaping into my reality as I peer around the poorly made cell. Eyes tightly close now as the visions grow more blurry and the sentiments of them begin to darken.

My breaths slow and I find myself often begging to a higher power that I will see them in my dreams. Maybe there I will get one last glimpse, before this all ends. A tear slips out from my tightly shut eyes and I wipe it away before my body goes limp.

Veronica Mars. She had saved me more times than I could count. But this problem I believe was just out of her reach.

"It's 180 days, Veronica. What's 180 days to us? Our story is epic. Spanning years and continents."

A silent resolve fills my nerves and bones, my veins throbbing with the fight of hope. Could we add this to the list of all we could endure? I smile faintly as her face is clearly before me. The tenacity and fight. I knew to never underestimate her.