So, this is it: the final chapter of this story.

It feels a bit sudden, because I had planned on writing an Epilogue after this too. However, I felt that this was a good place to end it and instead I've decided to make it into a series and cover Logan and Veronica's 6 months apart in the next story :).

I'm getting started on planning out the next story now and I'm hoping to have something to post in a couple of weeks or so.

Thank you so much for all of your support and feedback for the story - it's the first long, multi-chapter fic I've written in 6 years. I'm really enjoying being part of the VM fandom; everyone has been friendly and welcoming, and there are so many great stories to read and meta to explore :).

Chapter Eleven

Logan wakes before his alarm on Wednesday morning, Veronica draped across him, her head resting on his chest as she sleeps. Shifting carefully, he tries to extract himself from the bed without waking her.

"Mmm." She sighs, snuggling closer and then prying one eye open. "Where you goin'?"

He smiles, tightening his arm around her for a moment, before whispering, "Just for a run. It's early, go back to sleep."

"Don't wanna," she mumbles, even as she loosens her grip on him and shifts so he can slide out of the bed.

Logan chuckles throatily, dropping a kiss to her forehead. "Sleep. I'll be back soon."

In the dimly-lit room, he fumbles for his running gear and pulls it on, then makes his way out of the house. Truth be told, he's not in the mood for a run today. He'd much rather stay in bed with Veronica, but he's not stupid, he knows if he doesn't get up, he'll end up wrapped up in her again and then they'll never leave the bed. Plus, he's restless, needs to burn off some of the anxious energy thrumming through his veins this morning, and running has always been a calming influence.

Slipping out of the beach house, he starts his usual circuit, thoughts turning to the day ahead. Yesterday had been pretty much a perfect day, just the two of them spending time together, with no worries, no thoughts of the outside world, but today… today, everything's getting real. Normally, the day before he ships out is very matter-of-fact: he attends final briefings, finalises arrangements for while he's away, then he packs, maybe hangs out with Dick for a while, and gets as much sleep as possible in his large, comfortable bed before heading to the base in the morning.

He still needs to do all those things today, of course, but now he has spending precious time with Veronica—and saying goodbye to her—to add into the mix, and that's the part that's making him antsy. God, it was so much easier before, when I didn't have to think about leaving someone—leaving her—behind. Not that he's not happy she's here—he's so thankful to have her back in his life again—but it certainly makes leaving for a six-month deployment that much more complicated, not to mention a helluva lot more emotional.

Logan's never been one to hide his emotions—sure, he did everything possible to conceal the evidence of his physical trauma when he was young, but he's never really been able to do the same emotionally—yet seeing his fellow officers going through the pain of emotional goodbyes and long, lonely deployments, he's always been grateful that he hasn't had to go through it himself. This time though, everything's different. Veronica's back and their relationship is so new, and it's the worst possible time for him to be shipping out.

When he gets back to the beach house, Veronica is no longer in bed; instead she's freshly-showered, damp hair pulled up in a twist, making breakfast in the kitchen.

"Hey," she greets, tossing a smile over her shoulder when he enters the kitchen area. "Coffee's on, breakfast will be ready soon."

Logan frowns slightly as he steps up behind her and lightly touches his lips to her neck. "I thought you were staying in bed?"

She shrugs. "Couldn't sleep after you left. And I wanted to make you breakfast. How does pancakes and bacon sound?"

"Perfect," he says. "And thank you."

She smiles, nods. "It's almost ready; you wanna eat first or I can keep it warm while you shower." His stomach rumbles in response. "Okay, eat first it is."

Veronica hands him a mug of coffee and a plate containing a small stack of pancakes and four strips of crispy bacon, and he slides onto one of the stools at the island, tucking into it eagerly. Several bites in, he realises Veronica is still standing beside him, sipping at her own mug of coffee, watching him eat.

"You're not eating?" he asks.

She shrugs. "Not that hungry."

Logan frowns. Veronica, not hungry for breakfast? Is this some weird alternate universe? He gathers up a forkful of pancake soaked in maple syrup and a small piece of bacon and holds it out to her in offering.

"Here."

She shakes her head. "No, Logan, it's for you."

"Just eat it, Mars." He raises an eyebrow, holding the fork up tantalisingly. "You know you want to."

"Fine." She leans in, accepting the mouthful from the proffered fork, her eyes closing and a soft moan of appreciation escaping her lips.

"See," he says knowingly. "Knew you couldn't resist."

She narrows her eyes. "Finish your breakfast, Echolls."

He grins. "Only if you share it with me."

Veronica remains close to him as they eat, hip brushing against his leg, head leaning on his shoulder, fingers curled around his forearm. Logan doesn't think much of it until she follows him into the bathroom and perches on the toilet seat, making random small talk while he takes a shower. It's not until she follows him into the bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed while he gets dressed that he says something.

"Veronica?" He pulls on his uniform pants and fastens the belt.

"Yeah?" She's running her fingers over the insignia on the shirt he's laid out on the bed.

"What's going on?"

She frowns, looking up at him. "What do you mean?"

"You're hovering."

She makes a face, her nose scrunching up adorably. "I am not."

He raises a knowing eyebrow. "You've barely left my side since I got back from my run. I was half-expecting you to walk right into the shower with me."

"Nothing's going on," she protests weakly.

She picks the shirt up off the bed and holds it out to him. He takes it with a nod and tugs it on.

"I just…" She stops, looking down at her now empty hands for a moment, before she stands up and, still not meeting his eyes, starts buttoning the shirt.

Logan watches her fingers working quickly, her head bowed. When she gets about halfway down, he reaches out, curling his fingers around her wrist, stilling her movements.

"Veronica."

Reluctantly, she lifts her head a little and he slides his hand up to cup her jaw, forcing her to look at him fully. His breath catches in his throat at the despondent look on her face.

"I'm sorry. It's stupid, but I can't help it." She shakes her head. "I just… have this crazy need to be close to you right now."

"You know, I'm not complaining," he says softly, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ears. "I'm happy to have you close to me anytime." His smile widens as he attempts to lighten the mood. "Wow, this has to be a first, right? Veronica Mars, getting all mushy and romantic."

She makes a face, swatting at his chest. "Oh, shut up. You're one to talk, Mister 'I wear my heart on my sleeve'."

"I do not." Though even as the words leave his lips, he knows they're not true. She fixes him with an incredulous look, so he amends, "Yeah, okay, maybe. Sometimes."

"Ah, he finally admits it." She smiles mischievously.

Logan chooses to ignore her smug expression. "Look, I have to get going in a minute. You're welcome to come with me to the base if you like. It'll probably be pretty boring though, since I'll be stuck in the briefings, but you could hang out at the condo or something."

Veronica sighs, looking conflicted. "As much as I'd love to—and believe me, I would—Dad's having some tests done today and I told him I'd be there."

"Well, that's definitely more important." He nods sagely. "What time do you have to be there?"

"Ten."

"Okay, I'll take Dick's car to San Diego and you can drive mine to the hospital." Before she can protest, he holds up a finger. "No arguments."

She looks like she's in the middle of an internal debate for a moment, before she sighs, relenting. "Okay, fine. I'll take your car."

Logan doesn't know what exactly she has against driving his car, though he has a sneaking suspicion it's a mixture of not feeling like she deserves to drive it and not wanting to rely on him for transport.

"Great." He kisses the top of her head and runs his hands down her arms. "So, I really have to get going, but I should be done sometime this afternoon."

He releases her and takes a step back, finishing buttoning his shirt and then moving swiftly around the room, grabbing what he needs for the day. When he's ready, Veronica walks him to the door and rises up on tiptoes to kiss him goodbye, resting her hands on his shoulders for leverage.

He starts Dick's car and backs out of the driveway, resisting the urge to look back, and realises that, for the first time since he joined the Navy, he is not looking forward to leaving Neptune.

Three hours later, during a break between mandatory Powerpoint briefings, Logan's in the crew room of their makeshift squadron building, a mug of steaming coffee in his hands. He sips at it carefully, savouring every mouthful. Granted, it's not the best coffee in the world—it has nothing on his imported Guatemalan roast at home—but it's certainly better than anything he'll get on the ship in the next six months.

"Mouth!" Chaos approaches him from behind, giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder and a wide grin. "Enjoying this delightful morning of Death by Powerpoint?"

"Oh, you bet." Logan can't keep the sarcasm out of his tone. "Best thing I've done all week."

"My sentiments exactly." Chaos replies in an equally sarcastic tone. "And speaking of doing things… how's Veronica?"

"Dude." Logan shoots him a glare. "She'd kill you if she heard you talk about her like that."

"Sorry, man." Chaos straightens, though there's a twinkle in his eye that shows he's not serious. "But, you know, I bet I could take her."

Logan snorts. "Dude, you have no idea how much that is not true. She'd have you for breakfast."

"You sure? I don't know…" Logan just raises an eyebrow pointedly. Chaos has heard all about Veronica's exploits in high school and college. His friend quickly relents.

"Yeah. You're right. She would." Chaos eyes him speculatively. "But she's good, though? You're happy?"

"Yeah, I am." He nods, unable to keep from smiling into his coffee mug.

"Nice." Chaos grins. "So she's back, she's sticking around?"

"Yeah, she is." He nods. "I mean, she says she is."

"You don't believe her?" Chaos looks at him questioningly.

"It's not that I don't believe her. It's just…I don't know." Logan sighs, draining the last of his coffee and placing the mug in the sink. "Everything's happening so fast. She only came back to Neptune because I asked her to. Before that, she had a life in New York; an apartment, a boyfriend, a new job, and now…" He shrugs, running a hand through his hair. "These last couple weeks have been great, but it's almost like it's too good to be true, you know?"

Chaos shakes his head, his expression verging on exasperated. "Dude, I saw how she was looking at you in the bar the other day. I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"Yeah?" Logan feels his heart-rate speed up slightly at the thought.

"Yeah." Chaos nods reassuringly. "So, uh, what's she gonna do while you're away?"

"Well, her dad's still in the hospital, so she's gonna look after him, help with his recovery, and I think she's planning to keep the business running while he's out of commission. Other than that, I don't really know."

"She gonna join any of the support groups?"

"Support groups?" Logan scrunches up his nose.

He's heard a lot about the groups for family members and partners of military personnel deployed overseas. They're supposed to be really good—a community where those left behind can support and help each other through the tough times, providing a friendly, understanding environment. Problem is, he can't really picture Veronica willingly partaking in any of them.

"I don't think so." He shakes his head. "Not really her thing."

"That's what Sarah said when I suggested it to her a couple of years ago," Chaos says, "but she really struggled the first time I was away and the extra support was a Godsend."

"Yeah, maybe." Logan's reluctant to even mention it to Veronica; he can just picture her reaction: 'Support group? Pshh, after all we've been through, I think I can handle a few months apart without needing a support group.'

"Look, if she doesn't want to, that's her decision, but at least let me give you Sarah's number." Chaos reaches into his pocket, pulls out a pen, then grabs some paper from a nearby table. He scribbles down his wife's name, number and email. "Veronica's welcome to call her anytime, if she wants to talk, or just get out of the house for a while."

He holds out the paper to Logan, who takes it gratefully, glad his friend is offering to help. He's pretty sure Veronica won't call, but there's no harm in passing along the information.

"Thanks, man."

"Anytime."

Keith's tests are done by early afternoon and, after saying goodbye to him and stopping for a quick bite to eat on the way home, Veronica arrives back at the beach house shortly after one-thirty. Everything seemed to go well at the hospital and although the results won't be in for a few days, it looks like Keith is making a good recovery. The doctor confirmed that her father is still on track to come home on Monday, though he emphasised that Keith still has a long recovery ahead of him.

Veronica makes a cup of coffee and grabs her laptop out of her bag, settling down with it at the dining table. She's spent all morning trying to stay upbeat and cheerful, partly for her father's sake, but also because if she doesn't, she'll just start wallowing instead. Now that she's on her own, she needs a distraction. The laptop, along with the idea that has been forming in her mind ever since her father made an offhand comment earlier about Logan being away, should make for a good enough diversion until he gets home.

She doesn't have much time though—Left it a bit late, haven't you, Veronica? He's leaving tomorrow—so the research has to be done quickly. She types in a few search terms, browses the results, makes a few notes, then sets her ideas in motion. By the time Logan walks through the door not long after four p.m., she's in the kitchen, elbow-deep in snickerdoodle dough.

"What's all this?" Logan looks surprised to find her baking. He shuts the door behind him, drops a duffle bag to the floor and walks over to her, slipping his arms around her waist from behind.

"Hey," she says, leaning into his warm body, tilting her neck in invitation when he lowers his mouth to her skin. "Sorry, I was hoping to get these finished before you got back."

"Uh, you've got something…" He lifts his hand to her temple, gently brushing away some errant flour with his fingers.

"Thanks." She smiles.

"So, Wallace finally start demanding his snickerdoodle fix again?"

"Nope." She shakes her head. "These are for you."

"For me?"

"Yeah, to take with you."

"Really?" There's a hint of delight in his tone and Veronica turns her head to look at him in amusement.

"Yes, really."

"Wow, thank you." He grins, pressing his warm lips to her cheek, his arm tightening around her. "Look, I'll leave you to it—I need to finishing packing."

He picks up the military-issue duffle, already half-full by the looks of it, and disappears down the hall into the bedroom alcove. Veronica watches him retreat before turning her attention back to the dough, shaping the cookies and pressing them onto the tray. The snickerdoodles are only part of his going-away gift… she just hopes he likes the rest. She's planning to sneak it into his bag when he's not looking, so it'll be a surprise for later.

When the cookies are in the oven, the timer set, Veronica goes to find Logan. He's standing by the bed, the duffle bag resting near the end and a collection of clothes, organised in piles, spread out over the mattress. He's changed, now clad only in a pair of sweatpants, his upper body bare, and as Veronica leans against the wall, her gaze roams across the expanse of well-muscled back, eyes tracing the faint scars that mar his skin.

They are unnoticeable to most people, having faded into thin white lines over the years, but she knows the exact locations of all of them on his body, can see them clear as day. Back in college, when they started sleeping together, she would sometimes trace those lines while he was asleep, vivid images of how they must have looked when they first happened running through her mind. She never told him, but she often found herself crying over them, unable to comprehend how he could have lived through such abuse and still be functioning. She wasn't kidding when she said her psych classes at Stanford had resonated with her—she'd absorbed them eagerly, lapped up every bit of information and insight she could in the hopes of understanding Logan and his behaviour better.

"Hey," he says, noticing her standing in the alcove.

She forces a casual smile, watching as he methodically packs his clothes into the bag.

Out of nowhere, a random thought pops into her mind.

"Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"How do you pee?"

"What?" He turns to face her, eyebrows raised, his expression a mixture of confusion and surprise.

"In the plane," she clarifies. "You said sometimes you fly for five or six hours… how do you use the bathroom?"

She has no idea why this has just occurred to her now, or even why she needs to know, but it seems important now that it's out there. He relaxes, lips quirking up into a smile as a short laugh escapes his mouth.

"Oh. Right, yeah. No facilities." His eyebrows twitch upward as he replies, "On short flights, it's not an issue, but when we fly longer…" His lips curl into a smirk. "Well, there's a bag, we call it a Piddle Pack, and we have to…"

"Yeah, okay. Got it. Thanks." Veronica makes a face, holding up a hand to stop him. "Shouldn't have even asked."

"Why did you?" He looks amused.

She shrugs. "It just occurred to me."

He nods, smiling as he returns to the bag and finishes packing.

"Logan?" she asks again a moment later.

"Yeah?" he replies, and though she can't see his face, it's obvious he's trying not to chuckle.

"How long do you have left in the Navy?"

It's a question that has come to mind a couple of times in the last few days, but she's been refraining from asking it. He stills, carefully placing the last of his shirts in the duffle, and turns to her.

"I mean," she continues quickly, before he has a chance to speak. "Pilots have eight years commitment, right?" She read that online a few months ago, when she was determinedly not looking for information about becoming a Navy pilot. "And you've been in five already, so that means three more years, right?"

"Not exactly." His expression turns pained and her heart sinks. She's not going to like this answer, she can tell. "It's eight years from when we get our wings, and I got mine just over two years ago, near the end of 2013."

"Oh." Veronica looks down, feeling a clenching in her chest. Six years. He has almost six years left.

"But eight years is only the minimum commitment, Veronica," he says softly, almost hesitantly. "I can re-enlist at the end of it if I want."

Veronica stills, looking at him seriously. "Do you think you will?"

He shrugs helplessly. "I have no idea. I don't know what my life will be like in five years. But I had been planning on it when I joined up; figured I would stay in for the long haul."

"Oh," she says again, not sure what to make of that.

He studies her carefully for a long moment, before crossing the small space and reaching out to pull her into his arms. She goes willingly, slipping her arms around his waist and lowering her head to his chest.

"I'm sorry," she apologises, her voice muffled against his skin.

"For what?" he asks, resting his chin on the top of her head.

She sighs, lifting her head so she can see him. "I'm not usually this neurotic. You know me, easy-going, unflappable Veronica Mars. I wasn't expecting this to be so hard."

He releases her, takes her hand and gestures for her to sit on the bed. He settles beside her.

"This is all new to you, Veronica, you can't expect it to be a breeze." His thumb strokes gently across the back of her hand as he reaches across the bed for a folded sheet of paper. Veronica eyes it curiously as he holds it out towards her.

"Look, Chaos gave me his wife's—Sarah's—contact details today, said you're welcome to call or email her anytime… you know, if you have any questions, or if you just want someone to talk to or hang out with. There are some support groups on the base as well, you know, for family and friends of officers overseas."

Veronica shakes her head, the idea of lunching with military wives not appealing at all. "Logan, I don't think—"

He smiles knowingly. "Don't worry, there's no pressure. I told him it probably wasn't your thing, but he insisted I give you her details anyway. So here."

He hands her the piece of paper and she takes it, her fingers running along the edges before she slips it into her pocket.

"Okay." She's not going to call, or attend support groups, she already knows that, but she's willing to humour him. "Thanks."

"Also, I want you to have these while I'm away." He reaches into a pocket in the duffle bag and pulls out a set of keys, which he presses into her hand. "It's a spare car key and a key to the condo in San Diego. If you ever want to get away from Neptune for a while, feel free to hang out there, okay?"

Veronica looks down at the keys in her hand. "Logan, you don't need to do this."

Logan smiles. "Just take the keys, Veronica. You can just think of it as keeping my car running while I'm away… and checking my house is still standing."

"Okay. I guess I can do that."

"While we're on the subject, I've set up all my bill payments and legal paperwork for the next few months, and made sure my medical checks are up to date, but I've given the offices your number in case there are any issues and you need to get hold of me about any of it. Hope that's okay."

"Uh, sure." Veronica's surprised. "Yeah, that's fine. But I've only been back a few weeks… I mean, whose number do you normally give for this stuff?"

He shrugs. "My financial adviser normally, or Dick. But I figured you'd be a better person than them… if you don't mind."

"No, no, it's okay." Truthfully, she's feeling a little dazed. She hasn't considered all the housekeeping that seems to be involved in deploying overseas for six months.

"Thanks." He leans in, giving her a quick peck on the lips.

When they part, she smiles. "So, have you finished packing now?"

"Pretty much." He glances at the full bag.

"Great." Her smile widens and she reaches out, running her fingers over his chest and down to his stomach, tracing the toned abs there. "So we have the rest of the day to ourselves?"

"We do." He nods, then glances towards the kitchen. "But don't you have cookies in the oven?"

"Shit. I do."

As if on cue, the timer goes off and Veronica stands, gives Logan a quick kiss, and heads back toward the kitchen. The keys in her hand feel like a deadweight and she quickly places them down on the dining table as she passes. Turning the oven off, she places the tray of cookies on the counter to cool and turns to find Logan walking down the hall towards her, pulling a t-shirt on over his head.

"You're not supposed to be putting on clothes." She frowns, nodding to his now-covered torso. "What happened to having the rest of the day to ourselves?"

"We're both here…alone…aren't we?" He grins, trapping his tongue between his teeth. "Besides, the day is still young, and I'm starving. I need sustenance first."

"Oh. My. God." Veronica clutches at Logan's hair, her eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back against the arm of the couch as she catches her breath. Logan is trailing a line of hot, wet kisses across her stomach, his fingers dipping between her legs, gently teasing the sensitive, swollen flesh. "Wowsers."

She's not entirely sure how they ended up in this position, her stretched out naked on the couch, Logan somehow still fully dressed as he brings her to climax with his fingers and tongue over and over. They only sat down to watch a movie, bowl of popcorn in hand, but partway through, Logan began kissing her neck, sweeping her hair over her shoulder, fingers teasing her skin as he did so, and the next thing she knew, her shirt and bra were on the floor, and she was flat on her back on the sofa with him tugging her jeans and panties down her legs.

Not that she's complaining. No, siree. She would stay like this forever if she could.

Logan shifts, angling his body over hers as he props himself up on one elbow and smiles down at her, his dark eyes boring into hers. His free hand cups the back of her head, then slides round to her jaw, before his fingers trail along her cheek, over her forehead, down her nose, along the other cheek, his eyes following the movement intently. Then his palm flattens on her collarbone and slides over her shoulder and down her arm. He takes her hand in his, strokes along each of her fingers, then moves back up her arm again. Cupping her left breast, he squeezes gently, feeling its weight in his hand and brushing his thumb over her nipple, then switches to the right one and does the same.

"What are you doing?" she asks softly, barely more than a whisper, when his hand drifts to her side, then over her stomach.

"Memorising you." She blinks in surprise, so he elaborates. "I'm not going to be able to touch you for six months. I want to be able to remember you exactly as you are right now."

"Oh." She feels a fresh surge of warmth pooling deep in her belly. "Well, memorise away."

"Okay." He grins, his hand moving lower now. "I will."

"And later, I'm going to have to do some memorising of my own."

There's a wicked glint in his eye when he replies, "Oh, I'm looking forward to that."

Veronica stirs, prying open one eye. It's barely light, but Logan's standing at the end of the bed in full uniform, cap on his head and phone in hand, taking a photo of her. Her heart skips a beat in panic when she realises what this means.

"No, it's too early," she protests, her voice throaty. She lifts a hand to her face, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she shifts onto her back.

"You'd be surprised how strongly the armed services feel about punctuality," Logan replies softly, tucking his phone in his pocket and placing his hands on his hips. His lips quirk up into a small, bittersweet smile as he looks down at her. "You want me to get busted for going AWOL?"

She smiles, stretching and pulling herself up into a sitting position, his shirt threatening to slip off her shoulder. She's struggling to keep her eyes open, her body boneless and sated. God, Logan totally wore me out last night. He's standing before her, slightly amused smirk on his face, and all she can think of at this very moment is grabbing hold of that crisp, white shirt of his and ripping it off him, dragging him back to bed so he can't leave.

"What I want," she starts, shifting on the bed, getting closer. "Is for you to stand there…" She kneels in front of him, determination and lust pulsing through her. "…in that eff-ity white uniform…" His smile widens in recognition, pupils dilating in response. He looks down at her expectantly and she reaches for his shirt, tugging on it, speaking authoritatively. "… with your Harvard mouth and show me some eff-ing courtesy."

"Well…" His arms slip around her waist, tugging her close. "I appreciate you keeping it PG-13 for me." He leans in, kisses her nose tenderly. "I'm delicate."

Her eyebrow rises and she smiles self-assuredly. Oh, yeah, I can feel just how delicate you are right now, Lt. Echolls.

"I got you off murder charges," she counters with an indulgent smile, batting her eyelashes as suggestively as she can. "I can beat an AWOL rap."

He grins for a moment, then sobers.

"Listen, it's 180 days, Veronica," he says seriously, his gaze fixed on hers. "What's 180 days to us? Our story is epic." His lips quirk up in a smile, as he repeats the words from so long ago. "Spanning years, continents."

"Lives ruined," she adds softly, deliberately. "Bloodshed."

"Yeah." He smiles, his eyes dropping to her lips, his hungry expression making her shiver.

She can't take it anymore; she leans in, placing her hands on his neck, just like she did that night at her father's house two weeks ago, and kisses him deeply, pouring everything into it, yet trying not to show how desperately she wants him to stay.

"Come back to me." She tries not to make it sound like a plea, but it does all the same.

He studies her seriously for a second, before swearing, "Always."

Logan cups her jaw in his hands for a moment, then lets his arms fall, his fingers finding hers. He holds her hand as he steps away, not letting go until her fingers slip from his.

She stays on the bed, sinking back on her heels, unable to move as she watches him go. He pulls open the door, then stops for a moment, duffle bag slung over his shoulder, and smiles, giving a small nod. She smiles back, huffs out a tiny laugh, though it's a struggle to do so, and then he's gone.

Panic starts to rise in her throat, her chest restricting tightly and she struggles to breath. She can't let him leave like this, can't let this be it. Snapping out of it, she scrambles off the bed, runs barefoot through the beach house and pulls open the door, hoping to God he hasn't gone yet.

"Wait! Don't leave."

"Veronica?" Logan stops, the passenger door of Dick's car open as he prepares to swing the duffle inside. "Everything okay?"

"I want to go with you." She says, the words coming out in a rush. "To the base."

"You do?" He seems surprised, dropping his bag to the ground and walking over to her.

"Yes." She nods. "I want to see you off properly."

"Okay." A smile graces his tired-looking features. "But I need to get on the road soon or I'm going to be late. How quickly can you get dressed?"

She looks down at herself, clad in only his dark-blue, button-down shirt. "You mean I can't just wear this?"

He grins, kissing her forehead, fingers resting along her neck. "Go get ready. I'll be out here."

"Back in a minute."

Veronica heads inside, pulling on clean underwear and her discarded jeans. She elects to leave his shirt on—it's the same shirt he was wearing the night of the accident, the night they first slept together again—though she rolls up the sleeves and ties the tails in a knot at her waist. She slips into the bathroom to brush her teeth and run a comb through her hair, then grabs her purse on her way out of the door.

Logan's sitting in his BMW now, duffle bag slung in the backseat, cap tucked in the side pocket. He smiles as she closes the beach house door behind her and then climbs into the passenger seat.

"Ready?"

"Yep."

"Okay, let's go." He starts the engine and backs out of the driveway.

Veronica's emotions are all over the place during the drive down to San Diego, a weird combination of nerves, anxiety, excitement and distress. The mood in the car doesn't help; Logan is quieter than normal, his focus on the road, though his hand is clasping hers, resting on his thigh.

"You okay?" she asks after a few minutes of silence.

He looks over at her, giving only a half-smile that barely reaches his eyes. "Yeah… well, not really but…" The …you know how it is… goes unspoken.

"Yeah, I know."

"We'll be okay, right?" he asks then. "We'll make it?"

"I want us to," she says honestly. "We want us to. I think that's what's important."

"Yeah." He nods.

Veronica runs her thumb across the back of his hand in an attempt to relieve some of the tension in his arm, before lifting it to her lips. They spend the rest of the journey in silence and all too soon, Logan's driving onto the base. He pulls into a parking spot and they climb out of the car. Logan tugs on his cap and slings the bag over his shoulder again and slips his hand in hers, entwining their fingers. She wraps her free hand around his arm, pressing as close to him as she can as they walk through the throngs of people towards the dock.

A couple of hundred feet from the carrier, Logan stops and turns to her, letting his bag fall to the ground. "I guess this is it."

"Yeah." Veronica slides her hands up over his chest, pressing her lips together and willing herself not to break down in front of him. "You go serve your country, okay? Do us proud."

"I will." He swallows, the tell-tale shimmer of tears mirrored in his own eyes. "See you in 180 days, Veronica Mars."

"I'll be waiting."

"I'll come back."

"Yeah, you will." She tries for playful, but her voice cracks partway through. She doesn't want to think about him not coming back.

"C'mere." He pulls her to him, capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

Veronica rises up on tiptoes, winding her arms tightly around his neck, putting as much fervour and passion into the kiss as she can. She stays locked in his embrace for what seems like forever, only releasing him when a horn sounds and an announcement comes over the PA system that the ship will be departing shortly.

"I have to go." He looks down at her, his fingers tenderly stroking down the side of her face.

"I know."

He steps back, adjusts his cap and picks up his bag. He turns to leave, but Veronica catches hold of his arm, rising up and kissing him one more time.

"Bye."

He just nods, pressing his lips together, like he can't bring himself to say it back for fear of jinxing it, then turns and walks toward the ship. Veronica watches him go, her eyes following his retreating figure up the gangplank, onto the carrier, until he disappears inside. She stays until the ship leaves, though she has no idea if he's even one of the officers lined up on the flight deck. When it's finally out of sight and the excitement at the port dies down, she walks back to Logan's car with a heavy heart.

She chooses to drive up the PCH instead of taking the 5, the coastal drive reminding her of Logan, and manages to hold it together for about thirty minutes, until she's just past Del Mar, but then reality hits and the floodgates open and she has to pull over. She feels empty, lonely, her eyes stinging with tears. She brings a hand to her mouth, features crumpling as the tears spill over. She gives herself just five minutes to cry, to get it all out, before composing herself, wiping the tears away and pulling out into the road again.

You can do this, Veronica, she tells herself firmly. It's only 180 days. You can manage that. You will manage that. For him.

At least they've had these past two weeks together.

Two solid weeks of bliss, and now it's back to the real world.

End

Thank you again for reading :). Hope you enjoyed the story and as always, reviews are greatly appreciated and welcomed :). I've had a lot of fun working on it, and also rediscovering my love for writing again :).