Rated: T+ with chapters later that will touch M. Language and Sexuality, but I will definitely mark those chapters as such when the time comes.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Premise: Veronica has been gone for nine years. It is the week of Neptune High's 10 year Reunion. Logan hired Keith to solve Carrie's murder; and Keith has just solved the case when we begin this story. Logan was not framed; Carrie's death was staged as a suicide.

This story has elements of the movie but will take off in its own organic direction. This is a LoVe story with a potential of MaDi (Mac's POV, but very light as I will focus mostly on LoVe, and later chapters for MaDi probably starting around chap 7 or so) NO PIZ.

Chapter 1 Full-Blown Storm Mode

Life had a cruel sense of humor. Logan had learned that lesson years ago, long before things had obviously been too good to be true. The misleading lull right before a storm made everything around him deceivingly perfect and pristine; a vanilla sky overhead that seemed to trump the ominous gray cloud rolling in from the west.

Although Logan was very aware of how quickly things could change, it never ceased to catch him completely off-guard when the storm finally erupted in its full-fledged glory. And erupt it always did, for reasons he never, ever understood.

The past few years had been going great for him; so well, in fact, that Logan had affixed his eyes to that vanilla-sky-blandness. He'd ignored the nagging feeling at the base of his spine telling him that something would soon upset his perfectly constructed life. It was, he knew, the best way to keep the shell of denial cocooned tightly about himself.

If Logan had only taken the time looked around him, there was all the possibility in the world he would have seen the rapidly approaching wind from the west, but content with the illusion of cold, he'd chosen not to. Perhaps if he had looked, he would have seen at least some of this coming, that in reality his perfectly constructed life was more of carefully constructed house of cards.

Anyone who looked in from the outside of his life saw Logan Echolls, son of misfortune, rising up against the cruel machine of money and fame to become a war hero and highly sought-after bachelor. To a tabloid-reader, Logan had it all.

Pop-star girlfriend. Money. A busy life to keep him from thinking too hard or too long about whether or not he was actually content.

Except lately, that exact question of contentment had frequently popped into the forefront of his mind. The past few times he'd been home on leave, Carrie had been edgy. She would never talk to him about it, but that was nothing new. Theirs had never been a relationship built on pressing too deep. When they'd become involved, there had been a mutual agreement of distance between the two of them. But during these past few months in particular, Logan had noticed that Carrie had become increasingly withdrawn.

So when the phone call came in the middle of the night, Logan had immediately thought of that deceptive vanilla sky. And, though the news had caused shock to course through his body, it quickly settled down into his belly as acceptance. The impending storm had begun.

Logan was granted leave and had been home within two days.

Two days after that, he contacted someone he never thought he would ever talk to again.

There was no one else in the world who Logan trusted more to look into the matter discreetly and without bias. Logan had steeled himself, knowing that he would be alone in his belief that Carrie's death was more than it seemed. Especially in Neptune. In Neptune, people liked to accept the obvious answer, the obvious explanation. Logan knew instinctively that no one else would prod into Carrie's official cause of death even when the facts didn't add up. Open and shut was the preferred way of life in Balboa County.

Because Logan was unsatisfied with the investigation's findings, he'd had no other choice. He'd made the phone call to Mars Investigations, to a dogged private investigator, known as the best in the business. Keith wouldn't rest until he was satisfied that the evidence proved the case.

Two days after making that call, Logan had received confirmation that his fear was founded.

Carrie had been murdered. Everyone in town, possibly everyone in the world believed Carrie Bishop aka Bonnie DeVille had taken her own life. But Keith Mars had found proof that Carrie had enemies.

Mars Investigations had found the proof and now the culprits responsible for Carrie's murder were rotting in jail awaiting trial. It was only a matter of time before the news of it hit all the major news outlets.

Logan was sickened that it had been Gia, Stu, and Luke, the members of their inner circle, who were responsible for Carrie's death. It was her closest friends, the ones who had known her the best and had claimed to love her, who had taken her life. They'd shared secrets, dangerous secrets Logan had come to find out. It was the threat of the exposure of those secrets that had prompted the trio to get rid of any collateral damage. And that collateral damage had been Carrie.

Thanks to Logan hiring Keith, their plan hadn't worked out so well.

All of this was very much at the forefront of Logan' s mind as he pulled up to a place he'd pretty much denied existed for nine long years. Through the windshield of his convertible, Logan inspected the cute little bungalow where Keith Mars now lived. Here Logan was, by invitation no less, to meet with the man he'd once believed would become his father-in-law. It almost felt like a scene straight out of Father Knows Best. While Logan had never bought into that illusion, he liked that Keith Mars now lived in such an ideal setting.

Glancing at the time, Logan saw he was a good twenty minutes early. He'd learned years before, however, Keith Mars considered punctuality next to godliness. So instead of waiting, Logan got out of his car, locked the door, and looked both ways before crossing the street. The neighborhood was definitely an improvement to where Keith had once lived. It was a quiet, well-lit street with little houses lined with well-manicured lawns. It gave the appearance that nothing ever bad happened there.

He stepped up onto the curb just as he heard the loud revving of an engine. Logan curiously glanced down the street. What he saw stopped him cold. The source of the noise was a ratty looking truck that was tearing full speed down the street. Just ahead, between him and the truck, Logan saw a small compact car pulling out of a small parking garage. He watched in horror as the truck sped up and rammed full-throttle into the little car. The car spun around from the force of the impact and the truck zoomed off. Logan was frozen in utter shock. He couldn't quite believe what he'd just witnessed. The wrecked car sat lifeless in the center of the road with steam emanating from its hood. Through the foggy windows, Logan could see what looked to be two people, unconscious, in the front seats.

His military training kicked in and adrenaline took over. Logan ran toward the car, taking in the scene as he ran: small car, front end bashed in, passenger door untouched. Two men, both in the front of the car, injured and unmoving. Fluid of some kind was pooling underneath the engine onto the ground.

As Logan approached the little car he tried to see through its window. His steps faltered slightly when he recognized Keith Mars slumped over in the passenger seat. "Mr. Mars?" he yelled out, panicking. The older man was lifeless. "Oh my God, Mr. Mars?" He ran quickly to the door, pulling wildly at the handle.

Luck was on Logan's side. The car, being an older model, didn't have automatic locks. Because of this, the door opened easily and Logan reached straight in to immediately press his fingers against Keith's neck, searching for a pulse. It was thready but present. He breathed a sigh of slight relief and took the moment to pull out his phone. He kept his eyes on Keith as he blindly dialed 911 with his left hand while running his right hand down Keith's torso checking for injuries. He glanced at the driver of the car, who was completely sprawled over the steering wheel. Logan knew what death looked like; he didn't have much hope for Keith's companion.

When the call connected, Logan pulled his eyes away from the driver and back onto Keith while he began to explain the emergency. His words died on his lips when he heard the sound of a revving engine once again. When he looked behind him to see the source of the noise, his eyes widened in comprehension. The ratty truck had turned and was now heading full speed toward the little car once again. The phone slipped from between Logan's fingers as he pulled frantically at Keith's seat belt.

"Come on, come on!" He muttered desperately, his fingers slipping as he pulled at the buckle. Mercifully it disengaged. Logan flipped the strap away and aggressively pulled Keith's limp body out of the car and onto the ground, dragging the older man's feet hard against the rim of the door. Just seconds after Logan got Keith safely to the sidewalk, Logan heard the loud boom of the truck smashing into the small car a second time. Logan reacted by throwing himself over Keith's body, hands over his head. He pulled himself up and off of Keith once he felt that the truck had taken off for good. Logan, breathing hard, looked down into the older man's pale and bloodied face. Taking no more time for reflection, Logan crouched on his knees and began checking Keith's vitals.

A group of neighbors was now milling about the sidewalks, summoned out of their homes by the sound of crushing glass and metal. Since Logan's phone had been lost in the shuffle, he yelled urgently to the crowd, "Someone call an ambulance! NOW!" while he continued to work to keep Keith alive.

And thus began the second wave of the storm Logan had foolishly assumed was over.

***Break***

The doctors wouldn't tell Logan much of anything, but he hadn't been born yesterday. Keith wasn't at all well. Logan would have to find Veronica. She would have to come home.

During these past few days working with Keith, Logan had resolutely kept all thoughts of the sassy blonde firmly out of his mind. Now his heart lurched at the thought of seeing her. It had been nine years since he'd talked to her - four years since he'd last seen her.

-FLASHBACK-

The Navy gave Logan a furlough of four days in New York City. He and a bunch of the guys found a tiny little restaurant on some random street in Little Italy to eat. When dinner was finished, Logan paid his share of the bill and then stepped out onto the curb to wait for the rest of guys, enjoying the American air that he missed so much when he was overseas. Before the door had even shut behind him, Logan's eyes rested on a woman walking around the corner of the building. He'd frozen in utter shock when he saw her. Veronica.

Her hair was shorter, her clothes more professional. She carried a sleek black computer bag and wore black slacks with a belted trench coat over it. She was on the phone, looking down, not paying any attention to anyone or anything around her. The phone conversation was heated and Logan felt just as intense while drinking in the sight of her. She looked well. She looked healthy. The sound of her voice carried down the quiet street and into his soul.

His mouth opened to greet her, but he thought better of it. Instead, he stepped out of the light and into the shadow to wait for his friends to join him. He'd hoped she wouldn't notice the faces of each man in their casual whites. Years earlier, when Veronica had been suspicious of everything and everyone, she would have noticed them automatically. But Logan was banking on the knowledge that she came to New York to change, to be more…normal.

The group of men exited the building and one yelled out to him, "Hey, Logan, man, why are you lurking?"

Logan immediately honed in on Veronica's face. He had to see what her reaction to his name would be - to see if there was any recognition. He had no way of knowing if anyone had told her he was in the Navy now and no way of knowing if it even mattered to her.

Her reaction broke his heart. Her call ended just as the sailor had yelled out his greeting to Logan. Veronica stilled and her eyes jumped up to the crowd of men, searching the faces.

And he knew it. He knew that she knew he was there. Logan allowed himself to openly stare at her and their eyes connected, even in the dimness. His heart was in his throat and he was faced with the decision of whether or not to speak to her. The choice was quickly taken away from him when the men started brushing past him one by one. He didn't move, keeping his eyes locked on hers. It was Veronica who broke the spell. He watched in disappointment as she determinedly turned around and walked back around the corner, disappearing once again out of his life.

Her message couldn't have been any clearer. She wanted nothing to do with him.

-END FLASHBACK-

Logan blinked the memory away.

Logan sat back in one of the hard plastic chairs in the waiting room trying to decide what his next step should be. The EMTs had insisted that Logan come to Neptune Memorial to be treated for shock. His insistence that he was fine fell on deaf ears. He'd been admitted and discharged in less than an hour and now he needed someone to pick him up.

Dick.

His roommate was of course out partying, so that thought quickly flew out the window. Less than a month ago his other options had been significantly higher in number. But all of those options were now either dead or in jail.

Which left Mac. The two of them had kept in touch over the years and she wasn't averse to hearing from him once in a while. Plus, he needed to talk to her anyway to find Veronica.

Logan decisively pulled out his phone that he'd retrieved from the street once the paramedics were on scene at Keith's. He scrolled down his contact list, found Mac's name and pushed send.

After four rings, Mac's tired voice came on the line. " 'Ello?"

"Mac. It's Logan."

Her silence was telling.

"Listen, it's important."

"You on a bender again?"

"Mac, when is the last time I called you when I was on a bender?"

"Touché. But I hear there might be a good reason for said bender." She blew out a breath. "What else could you possibly want to talk about at ten o'clock at night, Logan? It can't be good."

"No, I suppose it's not. Good, I mean. I need…I need your help. Is there any way you can pick me up? And I need…" He paused, searching for words. He started over. "You need to call Veronica. It's about her dad," he shot out in a rush, not allowing Mac to get a word in before he added, "She needs to come home."

***Break***

2 DAYS EARLIER

NEW YORK CITY

Veronica had just finished her best interview yet. She felt confident walking out of the interview room, happy even. She'd left the interviewers with smiles on their faces. The firm had promised a call within a week. A week! She would be a real lawyer in a week. She could feel it.

She stepped out from the building and immediately was caught in the buzz of street activity. The city was always alive and moving, which was exactly why Veronica loved it so much. It kept her moving, kept her from thinking too hard about why she was there. Everyone that lived in the city had the same goal of making it big, whether in business, or on Broadway, or, well, in wherever. It was the camaraderie of ambition amongst the residents that made it easy for Veronica to get swept up in the charm of it all.

Charm, she thought ruefully. It had been a long time since she'd referred to her life in New York City as charming. It was a grueling climb to the top and Veronica wasn't even near the middle rung yet. This position at Truman-Mann would be the first step in many to get where she ultimately wanted to be. It meant being a part of that firm would look excellent on her resume. So what if it was more on the corporate side of law than was her ideal? She could handle that. She didn't need excitement in her life. Excitement always seemed to bring more problems than it was worth.

She quickly made her way to the stairs that led to the subway station. As she did so, her gaze fell on the newspaper stand and then zeroed in on the Entertainment Weekly. Veronica stopped in her tracks, ignoring the grumbling of those around her that had to adjust their stride to avoid running into her, but Veronica paid no notice. The cover of the magazine showed a picture of the pop icon Bonnie DeVille. The words 'dead' and 'suicide' popped out at her, and Veronica moved closer.

A few years back, Veronica had heard how Carrie Bishop of Neptune High changed her name to Bonnie DeVille to pursue a career in music. Under the pseudonym, Carrie had risen in fame as quickly as her songs climbed the charts. When Veronica had known her, Carrie primarily been known as a gossiping-know-it-all, but according to what she was reading, the tides had turned. Now it was Carrie who had become the tabloid fodder. It took a moment for Veronica to reconcile this Bonnie DeVille on the cover to the Carrie Bishop she'd known. A small wave of sorrow briefly swept over Veronica. Now Carrie was just another victim of Neptune, California. It was entirely too easy to believe that Carrie suffered from depression or had been enticed by drugs or a little of both.

Veronica picked up the magazine and thumbed through it to find the Bonnie DeVille article. Seeing that it was more than a few pages long, she fished out a five-dollar bill and told the kiosk vendor to keep the change. She then tucked the magazine under her arm before heading toward the entrance of the subway station to let herself be swallowed up with the crowd making their way underground.

It wasn't until much later when Veronica was alone in her tiny studio apartment that she had time to look at the magazine again. She sat at the island in her kitchen working on her dinner of scrambled eggs and toast when it crossed her mind to read it. Veronica pulled the magazine out from her computer bag and inspected the cover.

It was fascinating to Veronica how peculiar Carrie looked in her odd wig and overdone makeup. The picture reminded Veronica of a modern Cleopatra with her cat like eyes mysteriously staring up at her. It felt surreal to see Carrie in her stage-getup and on the cover of a magazine. It made Veronica even more curious about the girl who had become famous enough to warrant a posthumous cover on Entertainment Weekly. Ten years before it would have been nothing for Veronica to see the people she knew become famous. But that was a long time ago. Upon leaving California, Veronica had made the conscious decision to not pay attention to the rich and famous. She never kept up with the Kardashians; she'd had enough of that during her adolescent years to last a lifetime.

At least, that what she always reminded herself anytime she was instinctively drawn to gossip columns. Usually she would turn away and force herself not to look. Allowing this little glimpse back into that life was highly unusual. But surely one glance every ten years was acceptable, she reasoned. The fact that Veronica had personally known Carrie at one time certainly justified reading about what had become of her.

The article was in the center of the magazine: Cruel DeVille: How Could She Leave Us? Veronica began to read carefully, but the quickly lost interest and flipped through the pages. Veronica stopped at a two-page spread that intrigued her. It was filled with pictures of Bonnie with various people and she too the time to study each picture one by one.

A picture in the middle of the spread made Veronica's mouth go dry. She swallowed hard; her tongue felt like it was suddenly too large for her mouth. She couldn't breathe. Suddenly feeling guilty, her eyes skittered about her apartment. No one was there to see her but she felt irrationally exposed. Automatically, she shut the magazine and pushed it away from her.

After a few moments, Veronica laughed at the absurdity of the situation. She felt like someone had Punk'd her but she knew that wasn't the case. None of her friends in New York even knew about Logan and no one in Neptune would be that cruel. It's been nine years, Veronica! Of course he would have moved on. And why not with Carrie Bishop?

Hesitantly, Veronica opened to the spread once again to examine the caption underneath the picture:

'Bonnie DeVille with long-time beau, Lt. Logan Echolls during the MTV music awards, September 2015.'

Long-time beau? Veronica reread the words three times. She then studied the picture more closely. He looked good. Lean, handsome as ever, and aging well. Actually he looked gorgeous. He wore Navy whites, which didn't surprise her. What did shock her was that he had attended an awards ceremony. He was smiling into the camera, seemingly at ease with the fact that a media photographer was taking the picture. The Logan she knew always used to detest paparazzi; he'd avoided red carpet events at all costs. It didn't quite compute with Veronica that he would willingly date a famous person who thrived on that type of attention. Seeing the picture made her heart hurt for him though. It was proof that once again, Logan had lost yet another important person.

She touched the glossy picture and traced Logan's face with her fingertips. His smile had always been balm for her soul, even if no one knew it. Years before, when they were together, his smile never ceased to heal her. Even through this picture Veronica felt as if his smile was just for her. She unconsciously touched her fingers to her lips while she took in all the other pictures, her eyes jumping back to the one of Logan as if to confirm that she'd really seen him. She belatedly realized there were a lot of people in the other pictures that she had once known. But only one picture meant anything to her and it was the one of Logan.

Why hadn't anyone bothered to tell her that Logan was dating Carrie Bishop? Although, that was stupid, really, wasn't it? She'd never requested that anyone keep tabs on him and it wasn't as if she had any right to. She did know about the Navy, though. That was one thing she'd known about for a long time. She'd heard about it and then even seen proof of it, right here in New York…

****FLASHBACK****

Veronica had to keep reminding herself that her internship would be over soon. She would be back to the grindstone of class after the summer. The demanding attorneys who expected Veronica to be at their disposal at all hours of the day and night would soon be exhausting some other young intern who was fresh and willing to jump at their every request.

Sheila Limquist was the worst of the lot. Instead of learning more about the law and how to go about defending a client, Veronica was sent on coffee runs and to pick up dinner for the firm's toughest attorney. Case in point, Veronica was currently headed to Basilico for take-out; she always complied, acting as if she were eager to do the menial tasks that Sheila afforded her. The irksome truth was that Veronica actually was eager. If she got in good with Sheila, Veronica would be set within the firm. It would be only a matter of time before she was trusted enough to sit in on more meetings and do more actual lawyering. And since she still had years ahead of her before taking the Bar, it would be good to have as much experience as possible for resumes while still taking the early courses. Right now was her chance to get herself ahead of the pack.

Her phone rang just as she rounded the corner. Veronica kept her head down to answer the call. It was Sheila, of course, spouting off about a missing file on the company's mainframe. Veronica felt her voice rising in an attempt at calming the other woman down.

"Whatever, Veronica, just get the food and get back here. You have to help find the file. Without it, we're sunk." The line went dead and Veronica, sighing, pulled the phone from her ear.

"Hey, Logan, man why are you lurking?" A voice called out, cutting through the night.

She wasn't expecting that. Veronica stilled in the task of putting the phone back in her bag. She looked up to see a group of naval officers standing on the curb in front of Basilico, jesting and elbowing one another as they began walking the opposite direction of where she stood.

There was one sailor that had yet to move. He stood back in the shadows, but she instinctively knew that it was Logan. Her eyes locked on his and her breath shuddered to a stop in her throat. He wasn't very far from her, only thirty feet at the most. Her immediate inclination was to run to him. To wrap her arms about his neck and pull him into her. She ached suddenly, unexpectedly, to feel his arms around her. She felt the familiar tug in the pit of her stomach that she had long associated with only Logan and thoughts of him.

It was all Veronica could do to not act on her impulse. Instead, she blinked and looked away, breaking the spell he'd always put on her. She took one step back, and then another. And then she'd turned straight around and gone back around the corner of the building and away from him, away from her past.

It took her almost an entire block to admit that she'd been wishing the whole time that Logan would do the romantic thing and follow her.

But he hadn't. And that was that. The end. Veronica left the take-out at Basilico and when she returned to the office, she was unable to find the missing file. Not a good beginning with the illustrious Sheila Limquist.

***END FLASHBACK****

Veronica forcibly extricated herself from the memory of that night. That was the last time she'd seen Logan but it wasn't the last time she'd allowed him into her thoughts or dreams. His memory, his smile, and his laugh had invaded her loneliness over the years. She'd never admitted to anyone how many times she'd picked up the phone and punched in his old number. She would just stare at the numbers illuminated on the screen and her fingers would hover over the send button, indecisive. She'd never called him. Not even while drunk.

For her that was a victory.

Poor, poor Logan though. Everywhere he turned there was more tragedy. That had been the chief reason that she'd left Neptune and nine years ago. The reason she'd left him. He was so self-destructive and it had scared Veronica to think that she was contributing to his behavior.

When she'd left, she had done it to set Logan free.

But it looked as if setting Logan free hadn't kept him from heartache.

Veronica's phone began ringing just as she put her key into her apartment door. Her arms were full of groceries and she was struggling with the bags. "Just a minute!" she muttered. She pushed the door open and cringed when all of the bags dumped to the ground. There were eggs in one of the sacks. Probably useless now.

She fished her phone out from her pocket. It was her dad. She pressed 'answer.' "Hi, Dad."

"Oh, I'm glad I caught you. You busy?"

Veronica looked down at the groceries spilling out of the sacks on the floor. "Possibly." She sighed off-handedly, nudging one of the bags with her foot to move it enough so that she could shut the door. She turned her attention back to the call. "What's going on?"

"Oh, well, if you're busy, then I don't need to keep you. I just wanted to catch up quick, and tell you a little about my week."

"I just now walked in the door, actually. I really am not busy at all. What's up, Dad?"

"Well, one thing: you got your ten year reunion reminder today from Neptune High."

Oh. "Are you opening my mail again? You know that's a federal offense." Veronica bent down, picked up one of the bags and began rifling through it. "And as a licensed PI you should know these things."

"As an accomplished PI I can deduce what an invitation to your reunion looks like. And no, I did not open your mail. I may have, however, talked to an alumnus this afternoon and he may have mentioned it."

"Oh I see," Veronica sighed. "Did you tell Wallace that until Hell actually freezes completely over twice, no strike that, three times, that I will not be in attendance?"

"Who said it was Wallace?"

"Who else could it have been?" Veronica retorted, setting the bag on the counter. She began unpacking it. "You can pretend that you and Wallace aren't BFFs, but I know better."

"Sure you do." Keith was quiet for a moment. "You sure you don't want to come home? I won't be able to get out to New York for a while. I have a couple of big cases that I am working on; they're going to take some time."

"Ooh, do tell. I want all the juicy gossip. Which is it, sordid love affair gone awry or embezzling scam?" She began sifting through the contents of a bag.

"No, neither of those. Just…you know the usual…" Keith paused. "Someone asked me to double-check the facts of a loved one's cause of death. I think I'm just about finished with it. Plus there's another possible case-"

"Check the cause of death? Like…" Veronica interrupted, placing the milk in the fridge. "What, did someone supposedly die of 'natural causes' and your client thinks they were murdered?"

"Something like that," Keith answered evasively. "I can't really talk about it, honey. You know that. But the point is I can't come to you this time. You're gonna have to come here."

"Dad." Veronica shut the fridge and leaned against it. "You know my reasons for not coming home. I don't want to. Maybe we could meet in the middle? Tell that alumnus you talked to today to come along." When Keith said nothing, she continued, "Or we'll just have to wait it out. I couldn't come if I wanted to anyway; I'm waiting on a return call regarding that job I told you about. At Truman-Mann. The interview went so went so well, Dad. I think that I should hear something soon!" She said the last bit with a tiny squeal.

"That's exactly what I've been waiting to hear, sweetie. That's as good an excuse as any." Keith sounded relieved. "Once you're the big-shot lawyer, you'll be taking private jets to all your destinations. You can bring dear old Dad in your carry-on."

Veronica laughed. "You can be my plus-one anytime, but they do have size restrictions on the only planes I can afford to ride in right now. You'd have to fit into the overhead bin."

The shrill sound of the phone woke Veronica from a deep sleep. Groggily, she looked over to the clock on the nightstand. 1:36 am. Late night calls were never good news. Something was wrong.

She sat up and reached for her phone, trying to wake more fully. The bright screen in the darkness blinded her momentarily. It took a second for her to read it: Mac.

Why would Mac be calling her right now?

Feeling a sense of foreboding, Veronica swiped the screen and put the phone to her ear. "You in town to go to the MoMa? I think you might be a few hours off though, they won't open until mid-morning."

"Veronica." Mac's calm voice chilled her.

Veronica felt trepidation engulf her. Reflexively she continued chattering, "No to the MoMa? I know you aren't waiting for one of New York City's famous 'dirty water' hot dogs."

"Veronica. You need to listen. Are you listening?" Mac cut in. "I have news and you have to listen."

Blood was pounding in her ears. Pressure built behind her eyes. "So you aren't here, huh? I have to admit I'm a little disappointed. I was hoping you were at the steps waiting to be let in."

Mac ignored her. "It's your dad, V. He's been in some sort of accident. I don't know any of the details. And…they won't let anyone in to see him, but…it's bad. You need to get here."

The bottom crashed out from under her. When she finally responded, her voice was hollow. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Listen, V, we'll take care of the flight from here. Just pack a bag and get to La Guardia. Don't worry about any of the travel arrangements."

And thus it begins. Thank you to Bondopoulos for the Betaing help and everything in between.

Please read and review, it super helps to know if you are enjoying it or not.