Chapter 12

When Veronica came back down the stairs twenty minutes later, Logan was done eating and about to start the hated kitchen cleanup. He couldn't wait until she could resume her share of the KP, though the surly comment he was going to make about it died on his tongue when he saw her.

Freshly showered, she was dressed in dark, skinny jeans, tall black boots, and a white v-necked t-shirt that had been a birthday gift from Dick. It bore the phrase 'Grow a Pear' with two green pears underneath it, strategically placed.

His tongue literally in his cheek, he eyed the fruit, thinking he might need to rethink his stance on pears. Either that or it was a sign that, at this point, he was seriously deprived, sexually. "So, you're saying I need to do a better job of keeping up on the laundry?"

"What?" She looked down at her clothes and grunted. "Whoops. Oh well, at least I can finally tell him I wore it. Any food left?"

He'd eaten while she was upstairs but had wisely left enough food for her to make herself another breakfast, which she proceeded to cover with syrup and inhale. He was surprised she was keeping the ridiculous shirt on.

"Veronica, about today, you've been through a lot. I think you should take it easy. Whatever you have planned can wait, can't it?" He was worried that she was keeping busy to avoid thinking about everything that had happened. It wouldn't be the first time.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "How about we make a deal? I promise to let you know if yesterday starts backing up on me, and you accept that, for now, I'm doing great?"

He thought about that for a moment, and knew he had to concede the point. She would deal with yesterday in her own time but, if he pushed, she would only push back. His best option was to just be there when she was ready, and indulge her good humor today.

"Fair enough. So, in between busting people for human trafficking, getting yourself and a young girl rescued, and playing press agent, when did you have time to put together an itinerary for today?"

The left corner of her mouth turned up, and her eyes lifted in a teasing expression, her irritation forgotten. "I told you I'm a great multi-tasker. Plus, I had Adam's help."

He quailed a bit at the thought of what Adam and Veronica could have come up with together. The day should be interesting, if nothing else. "Anything like when we were having dinner at the Plaza, and the two of you crashed that meeting of American Vision so you could do a duet of 'Fuck You'?"

"Hey, that wasn't planned. Just serendipitous timing. Right place, right crowd, and really right song."

He chuckled and took the last swallow of his coffee, watching as she picked up her plate and carried it over to the sink. "And for today?"

While she rinsed the plate, she craned her neck to take a look at the clock. "It's more of a reveal as we go plan. Adam is going to be here in fifteen and I need to do a couple of things on my laptop. Trust me?"

"Scarier words were never spoken."

"True that." She grinned and lay a syrupy kiss on his lips.

When she went to step away, he slipped an arm around her back and pulled her close. "I slave over a stove and that's all I get?"

First making a show of how she could now stretch up her arms to put them around his neck, she pulled his head down and gave him a kiss that had him rethinking the possibilities for their day of fun. Unfortunately, she only spared him about forty-five seconds.

With a half-exhale, half-chuckle that was just shaky enough to convey how much the kiss had affected her, she backed toward the dining room where her laptop was waiting, her face apologetic. "I seriously have to do this before we leave. Raincheck?"

He didn't blink as he watched her retreat, and almost followed her when she bit her lower lip while waiting for his answer. The flush in her cheeks, and the way she hesitated instead of just walking away, told him how easy it would be to sway her from whatever task she was intent on accomplishing. He was torn between wanting her, and having his curiosity satisfied by going along with her plan. Curiosity won, but barely.

"Raincheck. Any chance it will be raining soon? You're killing me here."

"Hmmm. Pretty sure a hurricane is coming through tonight." Backing through the doorway, his last glimpse of her before she left the kitchen was with an impish grin on her face. He chose not to follow, content with her promise that their celibate period was about to end.

Several minutes later, Adam's presence was heralded by the shouts of over a hundred reporters. He entered the kitchen wearing a blue and black leather jacket, black leather gloves, and a black motorcycle helmet, followed by a shorter Bobbsey twin. They were each carrying a large cardboard box, which they set on the counter before taking off their helmets.

Veronica came in from the dining room, tucking something in her pocket. "Adam, hey. And Liv, thanks for doing this."

The shorter biker was a thirty-something brunette with hazel eyes and a slightly oversized smile. "No problem, Veronica. This is going to be fun. But you owe me big time for not telling me you had one of these at home." Liv eyed Logan up and down appreciatively.

Seeing the way Veronica's eyes narrowed slightly, Logan pulled her against his side and put a kiss on her temple. She usually didn't say anything when other women looked him over but, from being on the other side of it often enough, he knew how much a reassuring touch could help.

"That's because she usually only allows me to associate with gay men." He gave a nod to Adam, who nodded back with a low chuckle.

Veronica snorted as the tension left her features, and turned to him. "Logan, this is Liv Maroni. She's another agent and a friend. Liv, Logan."

Logan shook the leather-gloved hand of the pretty brunette, and lifted an eyebrow at her. "Veronica's partner in Viagra crimes?"

Liv said, "That's the one," at the same time Veronica reached out and punched Adam in the shoulder.

Adam winked at Veronica. "Like I wasn't going to tell him that story. You ready for this?"

"Natch." She grabbed a knife and started cutting at the tape on the boxes, pulling out two leather jackets and helmets identical to the ones Adam and Liv were wearing. Logan received one set of the clothes, in addition to a pair of black gloves.

"Is Trent in place?" Veronica asked Adam as she changed into her gear.

"Yeah, and thanks for these props by the way." He indicated the leather getup he was wearing and donned a lewd grin. "We've got something special planned for tonight."

Logan caught Veronica rolling her eyes at the same time he was, and they shared a laugh before she explained that there were two identical motorcycles outside. The plan was to use Adam and Liv as a doppelganger distraction so she and Logan could head to an address uptown.

Logan was tempted to ask more questions but had learned that the same rule applied to following Veronica as it did to falling into quicksand: your chances of getting through the situation were much improved if you didn't struggle.

As they finished putting on their biker jackets and gloves, Adam's phone dinged with a text message. Logan was slightly irritated by the silent communication of nods that went on between the three agents. He preferred to be in with the in crowd and didn't like being the fourth, clueless wheel.

They put on their helmets and then left the house at an almost run. Logan was behind the other three, following Veronica when she grabbed his hand and pulled him to the street. Adam was leading and had no qualms about ramming anyone who stood in his way, so the reporters quickly learned to move.

In the street, guarded by the Vasendens, were two matching, chrome and blue Kawasaki Vulcans. Logan straddled one of the monsters and looked at the crowd staring back at them. Photographers were jockeying for position while several stalkarazzi were grabbing their gear and heading toward vehicles, obviously intent on following the bikes. Being the center of attention in the whole scene was surreal, and uncomfortably familiar. This wasn't the friendly, casual press of movie premieres and award shows. This crowd was hungry.

Feeling Veronica scramble up behind him and wrap her arms around his waist, he fired up the bike. At Adam's signal, they took off, in opposite directions. He wasn't sure where Adam and Liv were headed, but he made sure to take a winding route, intentionally choosing traffic-jammed streets so they were difficult to follow.

Several minutes after leaving the house, once he had made sure they were no longer being tailed, he pulled into a parking garage twenty blocks away. They slowly rode up the garage in a spiral, stopping on the fourth floor when he saw Trent waiting with yet another motorcycle; this time a black and silver Ducati.

Parking the Kawasaki, Logan took his helmet off and eyed the Ducati appreciatively. "No offense Trent, but if you see me getting hard, it has nothing to do with you."

Trent sighed dramatically. "Nothing new there. You've always been a tease."

Logan got off the Kawasaki, handing his jacket to Veronica when she asked him for it. While she put the coats away in the storage compartments, he walked over to get a closer look at Trent's bike. The concrete underneath his feet had a strange give to it, something he usually felt after getting in a fight or pulling one of his riskier stunts in high school. Racing through the city with Veronica riding behind him was like something out of an action movie, and he was actually having fun. The extra energy coursing through him was making it impossible to stand still.

"So, when did you get the bike?"

Trent held up the keys and gave him a skeptical look. "Please, a Vespa is more my style. It's all yours Steve McQueen."

Logan whooped and ignored the keys, instead grabbing the shorter man and spinning him around once and before releasing him and laying a fast kiss on top of his head. He could hear Veronica laughing at his antics as she walked toward them and he let go of Trent, slowly circled the new bike, and let out a low whistle. Trent started pointing out its features, his face completely red as a result of Logan's attentions.

While Logan was ogling the bike and half-listening to Trent, Veronica had taken the keys and opened the bike's largest storage container. She removed two monochromatic, black leather jackets and explained that the plain black, with the less colorful bike, should blend easily with the rest of city traffic.

Once he and Veronica had changed coats and were straddling the new bike, Trent handed Veronica an envelope, and she tipped forward to give him a one armed hug. Before she closed the front on her helmet, she gave Logan another address, this time in Harlem.

He hesitated before starting the bike. Though he didn't know their exact destination, he knew enough to stay away from the neighborhood. Whatever she had planned was starting to make him nervous.

"Let's motor, Jeeves. We're meeting someone there and can't be late." She cut off any questions he had by reaching out and slamming his visor shut, before closing her own. Choking back his arguments, he started up the bike and headed to Harlem.

The address was that of a decrepit apartment building; one with garbage littering the stoop and several layers of graffiti defacing the front of the building. Logan drove another block, finding a parking garage of questionable security to store the bike. He parked and looked around at the ragtag collection of cars in the garage, feeling a stark nervousness chase away the last of his earlier euphoric mood. Seeing how unconcerned Veronica was, it occurred to him how much time she must spend in neighborhoods like this because of her job, and he ordered his balls to come out of hiding.

They did another wardrobe change, exchanging their jackets and helmets for disguises from the bike's storage containers. When Veronica handed him a pair of sunglasses and a porkpie hat to wear, he gave her a hard look.

"If I knew I was going to be impersonating Justin Timberlake, I wouldn't have shaved today."

She snorted as he put the hat on; not instilling any confidence in him that he could pull off the look. His little crisis of vanity went ignored, however, and he barely kept back a pout when she put on a Yankees cap, tucking her hair underneath it. He had definitely gotten the short end of the fashion deal.

She shrugged at his comment, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the garage. "Blame Trent. I just asked for hats and sunglasses, he's the one that got creative."

Logan kept his head down as they walked, hoping no one would recognize him. Or photograph him if they did. Veronica stared straight ahead, but slipped on a pair of oversized D&G sunglasses to hide her face. Suddenly his porkpie didn't seem so ridiculous.

She drew a few stares on their short walk, but he loved that she could wear a stupid t-shirt and goggles, and still carry herself with a 'don't fuck with me' attitude. Next to her, his street-musician look barely garnered a glance. All the same, he was relieved when they finally reached the apartment building they'd passed by earlier.

A short, bespectacled, Hispanic man was now standing out front, and Logan followed as Veronica walked right up to him.

"Ramone Guitierrez?" At his nod of confirmation she stuck out her hand for him to shake. "Thanks for doing this. Have you been waiting long?"

"No, I just got here. It's not often we're accompanied on these jobs, but Henry said this was a special case?"

"Very special. We'll follow you up."

The man glanced at Logan curiously, but then led the way into the building and up to the third floor. Per Veronica's instructions, the two of them pressed against the wall to the right of the door while Ramone stood in front of it and knocked. When there was no answer he knocked again, this time not stopping until the door was yanked open.

"Melissa Wells?" Ramone asked.

Veronica was closest to the door, and Logan only held back because she placed a cautionary arm across his chest and shook her head, placing her finger over her lips.

"Yes?" the traitorous bitch asked, the sound of her voice sending a wave of revulsion through Logan's stomach.

Ramone handed an envelope to her, with the usual officious and bored manner of his profession. "You've been served," he said, before turning and heading down the stairs.

"Wait. What!?" Melissa yelled after him, stepping into the hallway.

"I'm sorry. Is this unclear to you? Maybe I can help."

Logan knew that tone in Veronica's voice; a layer of sweet covering a bed of razor blades. She had promised him a day of fun and, even if this was their only event, she had made good on that promise.

Melissa swiveled around to locate the person talking to her, maintaining her confused expression even after Veronica took off her hat and sunglasses. "Who the hell are –"her question was cut short when she saw Logan step forward.

When he'd seen her at Swells the previous week, Melissa had looked a bit faded. Now, seeing her without the heavy layer of makeup and her hair an uncombed mess, he could see she had aged more than was normal for five years. Her skin was the sallow, parchment-like type with tiny red veins that signified a heavy drinker. She was clearly as obsessed with dieting as she had been when they lived together, and it had resulted in hollow cheeks and thin, veined hands that made her skeleton come to the surface. Based on the age she had claimed when they met she should only be about thirty-one, but now she looked closer to forty.

Looking at the woman, Logan tried to remember how he'd felt before Mac and Dick had exposed her betrayals. He'd liked her, cared about her even. He'd believed that his money and his name weren't important to her; she'd worked two jobs while they were dating, and even insisted on paying him rent when she'd moved in with him. But it had all been part of her long con. The few, fleeting times he'd thought of her since moving to New York, he'd found his hatred had softened to bitterness. During their brief reunion at Swells, he'd realized that bitterness had faded to apathy.

The implosion of his relationship with Melissa had been a large part of why he'd requested the publishing house transfer him to the east coast. Considering how that had turned out, once he'd even thought about sending Melissa a thank you card for setting off the series of events that had led to his reconciling with Veronica. But even that smidge of gratitude had disappeared once she'd sold him out.

He bit back everything he wanted to say so he wouldn't upset Veronica's plan. Whatever she had in mind would be much better than any words he could throw at an unfeeling, using hag like Mel, anyway.

"Do you want to talk about this in the hallway, or can we come in?" Veronica asked.

Melissa looked between the two of them, then down at the unopened envelope in her hand before she shrugged her shoulders and gestured toward the open door. "Come in. If you're sure he'll keep his hands to himself."

Veronica led the way to the sagging couch, showing no qualms about making herself at home. Logan followed and perched next to her. He took off the sunglasses and clutched them in his hand, then did his best to keep them still even when a thrill of anticipation ran up his spine. Melissa had no idea who she'd pissed off.

"Go ahead and open it. I always like to watch people enjoy my presents," Veronica said.

With a cocked eyebrow, Melissa tore open the envelope, unfolded the papers inside and read for a moment before throwing them down on the coffee table and laughing. "You're suing me? For slander? What is he, some 19th century virgin whose reputation I tarnished? I have pictures that show what he did."

Veronica snapped her fingers and pointed at Mel. "Right. The pictures from the hospital. I'll get to those in a minute. But first, how did that photographer know Logan and I were at Swells that night?"

Logan didn't need to hear the answer. That Veronica had even asked the question meant Melissa was guilty of not only lying to the press, but setting off this entire cataclysmic series of events.

Melissa shrugged and affected a look of boredom, going so far as to even yawn and roll her eyes. "I have no idea."

"So the check you deposited from a Matthew Frye, the same Matthew Frye who sold that story to TMZ, had nothing to do with you tipping him off?"

Melissa grew angry and defensive, crossing her arms, as her face flushed pink. "How in the hell do you know that?"

The familiar, dangerous head tilt came out. Since Veronica wasn't asking for a favor Logan knew she was closing in. He relaxed and felt himself getting a little turned on when she smiled slow and wide, like a Cheshire cat, and used a tone smug enough to match. He had long admired her ability to be a bitch when it was truly warranted. "Oh, I know a lot of things."

Melissa shrugged again. "So what? I didn't tell him what to write. There's nothing illegal about giving him a heads up you were there."

"True, but I'm curious about why you were even working there. How is it that in a city with over four thousand restaurants, you just happen to get a job in our favorite?"

"Ever heard of coincidence?"

"Ah. So, it was a coincidence your friend Stacy recognized Logan in that same restaurant two months ago, and found out from a waitress that he was a regular there? It was a coincidence that right after you learned that, you moved to New York? It was a coincidence that Swells was the only place you applied for a job when you moved here? And it was a coincidence that you just happened to have the number of someone who was intent on making money off Logan's picture?"

Logan realized he was holding his breath, and let it out slowly so he wouldn't draw attention to himself. Pride and love for the woman beside him almost had him pulling a Tom Cruise on Mel's ratty couch, but he didn't want to ruin Veronica's moment. Instead, he put his arm along the back of the sofa, forcing his hands and feet to stay still. There was no way she had dug up all this information just last night, after her rescue. When those pictures of Mel had hit the internet, she hadn't even questioned their validity. Instead she had known he was being set up, and started whatever machinations had brought them to this moment, armed for bear.

"Sure. Coincidence." Melissa leaned against the wall opposite them. She was affecting an air of calm, but the way her eyes narrowed as they rapidly moved showed how hard she was working to figure out this situation.

"You say coinkidink, I say stalking. The restraining order is getting filed in an hour." Veronica leaned back against his chest. He clowed his arm to wrap around her waist, giving her a squeeze to pull her even closer against him.

"For now, I wouldn't laugh at the slander lawsuit. It has teeth. You knew what you were saying was untrue, yet you did it anyway with malice and intent. Lawyers and judges really like those words, malice and intent, don't they?" Veronica had turned her head so her question was directed at him, and he observed the way her eyes danced and she was showing all her teeth. She was enjoying the hell out of herself.

If Veronica had gone so far as to file a lawsuit, she definitely had something. He looked away from her to stare at Mel, eager to play his part in the play Veronica was directing. "They're pretty fond of irrefutable proof, too."

Still composed, Melissa rolled her eyes. "Proof of what? That you hurt us both?" She shifted slightly so she was addressing Veronica. "I don't know why you're trying to protect him. You saw the pictures. You got off easy."

Her eyes wide, Veronica shook her head. "You really need to get up a little earlier in the morning, maybe watch the news." She looked at her watch, the satisfied grin returning. "But maybe now would be an even better time to play catch up. Have a computer?"

Feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket with a text, Logan ignored it so he could concentrate on what was going down in front of him. Anticipation had his knee bobbing up and down. Whatever was about to happen should be good; Veronica really did like to be around when her revenge plans played through.

Melissa let out an affected sigh and grabbed a bag on the floor, removing a laptop and placing it on the coffee table before settling into the armchair opposite them.

Veronica snuggled back into him a little more and ordered, "Pull up NBCNews. Not as trashy as TMZ, but what can you do?"

He hadn't yet read anything from NBCNews. Thinking whatever link Melissa was about to look up was probably waiting on his phone, Logan reached into his pocket to pull it out, and got to read the article in sync with his ex. It was a news report touting the 'Melissa Wells Story' as fraudulent. He was amused to see that the article referred to him as 'the husband of FBI Special Agent Veronica Mars'. It seemed that, when it came to serious news, she was the headliner.

Accompanying the article was a copy of an insurance claim, filed two years before he ever met Melissa, detailing her injuries from a car accident. Her face had been severely bruised due to the deployment of an airbag, her arm was broken when it smashed against her door, and her face was cut from a broken window. The pictures attached to the claim matched those she'd given to the tabloids.

Melissa's face went pale as she looked up from her laptop. "You're FBI? Is that how you found out -?"

Veronica turned her head toward Logan again and winked with the eye that was away from Melissa. His restrained laughter made his torso shake, but he held it in so he wouldn't interrupt.

Lowering his head slightly when Veronica crooked her finger at him, she whispered exaggeratedly into his ear, her breath tickling him in an enjoyable way. "Now she's accusing me of stuff. Did I say I gave that story to the news?"

He gave her a slow, lips-only kiss, unhurried in wanting to convey his thanks for what she'd done for him. That she fought viciously on his behalf said so much about the kind of man she thought he was. She made him feel worthy, something he'd never really experienced until these past four years. Ending the kiss, he touched his nose to hers and gave a small smirk of acknowledgement. "Nope, you didn't say anything like that."

Veronica shook her head. "Well, I wouldn't worry. What goes around comes around, right?" When she stood, he followed her toward the door. He thought that was it, and that they would leave Melissa on that chair, rereading the article again.

From her back pocket, Veronica took out the envelope Trent had given her earlier and held it out to Mel. "Oh, before I forget, I found this lying in the hallway. I took a peek so I would know whose doorstep to place it on."

Warily, Melissa got up and took the proffered envelope, pinching the edges with her fingers, but not making a move to open it.

With a smile that was rife with false sympathy, Veronica reached out and patted the other woman on the shoulder. "You are just not having a good day, are you? Outed as a liar on national news, served with a lawsuit, and now getting an eviction notice?"

"Eviction?" This had Melissa tearing open the unsealed envelope, pulling out the document, and scanning it frantically.

"Yeah. Looks like this property is coming under the management of DiCasa Enterprises, and they don't have any interest in keeping you as a tenant."

Logan started at the name, and then gave a low chuckle. She really had rallied forces before this meeting today.

Just then the power cut out, the limited light coming in from just the two living room windows. The only sound was the quiet clicking of the refrigerator fan as it cooled down.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. And you didn't pay your power bill?" Veronica shook her head and crossed her arms as she admonished the other woman.

Now Melissa's voice was shrill, finally panicked at the events that had unfolded over the last few minutes. "No! I paid it! This is some kind of mistake!"

"Wow. I've dealt with ConEd before. It can take months to straighten something like this out. If I were you I would, ppppttttzz," Veronica used her thumb to make an arc, ending by pointing it back over her shoulder, "get out of New York. It really doesn't seem to be working out for you."

Melissa fish-mouthed for a couple of moments until Veronica shrugged her shoulders. "I'd say nice meeting you, but it really wasn't." She turned to Logan. "Shall we?"

She gave him one of his favorite looks of hers; her eyes sparkling and her eyebrows going up and down, full of mirth. He opened the door for her, following as she walked into the hallway.

Once he'd closed the door behind them, he grabbed her, spinning them until he could pin her against the wall. He didn't bother with any preliminaries, just slammed his lips against hers, meeting her tongue when she opened her mouth and greedily took him in. She pressed tighter against him when his hands found their way under her shirt, bypassing the gun tucked into her waistband, and stroked the soft skin of her back.

"How in hell did you pull all that off in one day?" He took her hand and pulled her to the stairs, wanting to keep kissing her, but wanting to put some distance between them and Melissa even more.

"I spent the whole car ride to Jersey, before my meeting with Junie, on the phone. My dad found the insurance claim, and made the deal with NBC to release it just now if they got exclusivity. Dick, obviously, for the eviction –"

"And he made you promise to wear that as repayment." Logan pointed to the ridiculous t-shirt she was sporting; her casual acceptance of her fashion faux pas earlier finally making sense.

She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "He made me promise there would be a picture of me in some newspaper tomorrow wearing it. Seemed a small price to pay for him to buy out a management contract. Anyway, Henry for the slander lawsuit, Mac for the ConEd shutdown and the email search, and Jason for the bank account info. He found the payoff from the photographer for the tip. So you know what that means?"

Logan's feet stopped on the stairs and he turned to look up at her. "You aren't under any illusions that I'm going to be nice to the guy," he growled. He'd knew he never be able to really forgive the man for what had happened yesterday. Also, not that he'd admit it to Veronica, he couldn't stomach the terms of their previous relationship. He knew was a double standard, considering his own past, but it wasn't like she'd be any more tolerant if one of his bimbos of yore appeared in their lives. Charlie was different; at least he'd loved her.

Veronica's snort was unflattering, as if dismissing the possibility he even could be nice. "Um, no. It means my ex just bested yours. If life were a video game I would own you."

He laughed and followed as she passed him and continued down the stairs. "We both know you already do."

They collected the bike and made a fifteen minute stop at The Haven; less a fun event than a necessary one. Despite Veronica having spent almost two weeks lying to them, Pauline had come through and reported the 'Tammy Turner' information to the newspaper when she'd asked, and she owed personal thanks.

Pauline was waiting for her, and from her red, puffy eyes and splotchy skin, it seemed she'd been awake and crying since Veronica had woken her up the night before. In Pauline's office, their roles were reversed this time. It was Veronica who brought the other woman over to the couch and listened while she cried, explaining that she felt guilty for being the one to let Junie into the group.

Veronica didn't love hugging virtual strangers, but scooted over anyway and put her arm around Pauline's shoulders, offering what comfort she could. She filled Pauline in on more of the story, explaining that Junie's abuse story had been real and, as far as Junie knew, her motives had been altruistic. That under other circumstances she would have bought the woman's story, too. The moment in Dean & DeLuca , when she had almost cried over the scars on Junie's neck, came to mind.

Pauline calmed down, but said it didn't help assuage her guilt since many of the women were now hesitant to stay at the shelter; knowing their protected circle had been infiltrated by Junie, as well as Veronica, didn't exactly inspire confidence.

When Veronica gave Pauline the check she had brought as a donation, Pauline agreed to keep it anonymous, so no connections would be made to Veronica and Logan. Veronica knew that when the connection between the shelter and the FBI investigation were made public, their donations could drop off. Or they could increase with the additional publicity; it was always hard to tell how these things would go.

She swallowed as she came out of the shelter and saw Logan leaning against the bike, dressed in the motorcycle jacket and gloves. When he removed the helmet and smiled sweetly at her, she felt a jolt of lust go straight to her knees, making her stumble just the littlest bit.

Only a little embarrassed when he tilted his head and lifted his eyebrow at her, she explained. "I'm having a total, 'Oh my god, its Jake Ryan!' moment."

His smile changed to a smirk. "If you come back to my place, I promise to give your panties back to you. I may have to take them off you first, though."

She sighed heavily, lamenting their full schedule. "I'm going to hold you to that, later. Right now, we have to be someplace."

"Where?"

"The Plaza." Veronica felt a pang of guilt at the hopeful look Logan shot her when she gave him their destination.

"Because that's the best place to be when there's a hurricane?" He pulled her close and gave her that damnable 'I want you, now' look of his that made it even harder to put him off, even if it was for just a little while longer.

"No. Because I have to be at a press conference there in a little more than an hour." The words had him dropping his arm from her waist and stepping back to rest on the bike as he glared at her.

"No fucking way."

She shook her head at him, and felt her eyebrows draw together in a frown. "This isn't just about us. The initial focus is going to be what happened at Port Newark yesterday, and Director David wants me there to make a public statement. But it's at the Plaza because of the number of reporters coming, and he knows the actual news story is only going to hold attention for a couple of minutes before they start digging into us. You can join me then, or just be on the sidelines for moral support. It's up to you. "

"Veronica, you've never done this. It can get out of hand really quickly."

She gave him a relaxed smile, one that was more bravado than confidence. "I have to do this for my job. It's good PR to show that I came out of yesterday's ordeal unscathed, and talk up how the department handled it. But it's inevitable they're going to ask about us, and I don't want to hide anymore."

"You don't have to hide. Just say no comment. We can just issue a statement and call it good."

"Nobody pays attention to written press statements."

He narrowed his eyes at her, but she could see he was amused by whatever he was thinking. "So you want attention? If that's what you're going for, we could just do an interview for People."

She felt a shudder go through her and zipped up her jacket in preparation for leaving. "Not that much attention. This is a one-time only deal. If they ask, and they will, they'll get a few lines, and a couple of pictures."

"Pictures?" His frown told her he wasn't pleased with this new development.

"That, or they keep printing the ones of us from high school. Not that the public is tired of being reminded of our connections to Lilly and Felix, but I'm a little sick of it. Their other option is to use the ones from Swells and the dog park that make you look like OJ." When his shoulders wilted and he bowed his head, shaking it, she knew he was done arguing.

He looked up at her, his mouth turned down in resignation. "Fine. But if you're doing this, I'm doing it with you."

Relief came out of her in a sharp huff of air, and she smiled hugely at him. "Oh, thank God."

Less than two hours later they sat on a couch in a small office, waiting in silence. The press conference was scheduled to happen soon and they were as prepared as possible. They had consulted with Henry on the lines of questioning they were willing to answer, and she had typed them up to add to the press packets.

Henry had also swung by their house and brought the clothes and makeup bag Veronica had laid out on their bed before coming downstairs, so they were ready to face the public. Logan was gorgeous in a charcoal suit with a black, gray and red striped shirt open at the collar, and black dress shoes. Veronica wore a black pants-suit with a dark blue button up shirt underneath. Her hair was pulled back in a low, loose bun, and her makeup done simply. Though they didn't exactly match, he was more Hollywood suave while she was sporting the FBI special, their looks were appropriate for the occasion.

They were both wearing their wedding rings for the first time ever since their actual wedding. From the way Logan kept squeezing her hand and playing with her ring, she could tell he was thrilled at this new development. And, ok, maybe it wasn't the most modernistic way of thinking, but she also couldn't help grinning every time she looked at his left hand. It was an outward sign that he belonged to her, one that gave her a surge of pride.

At five o'clock, as instructed, they followed their appointed hotel staffer toward a large conference room. From the open door they could hear the chatter of a few hundred people, and the clicks and whirrs of cameras as Director David was filmed making his statement.

When he finished his brief explanation of the events of the day before, he introduced Veronica. Feeling Logan squeeze her hand, and seeing the reassurance as he crinkled his eyes at her, she took a deep breath; she could handle this. Walking out, she was almost instantly blinded by the rapid-fire camera flashes and bright lights that were erected around the room. Logan was right, she'd never done this and she hadn't expected to feel as if her feet were made of lead. She had to force herself to keep moving toward the trio of chairs that were set out.

Veronica took the seat Director David indicated, on his right, and smiled stiffly for the cameras. She had faced down armed criminals, been kidnapped, almost set on fire, and testified before countless juries. This should be easy, right? She ordered the butterflies in her stomach to go back in their cocoons so she could relax, but they weren't listening.

As predicted, the questions about the events of the previous day lasted only a few minutes. Veronica answered as best she could, repeatedly touting the fast actions of the other agents in bringing her home safely. There was much that couldn't yet be made public, and the reporters quickly grew bored with her stilted answers and litany of 'that is an aspect of the case I cannot discuss at this time'. She was almost relieved when the personal question came up.

"How does your husband feel about all this, Agent Mars?"

She cut her eyes to the side and felt her stomach calm a bit at the nod Logan gave her from the open doorway. "He's here if you want to ask him yourself."

Logan walked toward her, ignoring the cameras as he studied her with a bit of concern. He first shook hands with Director David, then leaned down to kiss her on her cheek and whisper in her ear before he took his seat. "Relax, Bobcat. You got this."

She let out a breath and grinned up at him. He knew the effect that nickname, and his voice in her ear, would have on her and, feeling her joints go a little liquid in response, she managed to relax a bit.

He scooted his chair closer to hers and grabbed her hand, pulling it into his lap and using his thumb to covertly stroke her palm while he leaned back. He looked completely at ease as he crossed his ankle over the opposite knee, and placed his right hand on top of it. The smile he gave her included a wink before he finally turned to the reporters. "What was the question?"

The man who had spoken to her was still standing, waiting for his answer, and this time he addressed Logan. "A couple of weeks ago your wife was beaten when making an arrest, then yesterday she was kidnapped and held captive for several hours. How do you feel about her job in light of these occurrences?"

Logan fixed the guy in a stare. Veronica could tell by the tightness around his eyes and the way his hand stilled, holding hers tightly, that he hated all of that being discussed so casually.

"I'm proud of my wife and have every confidence she can handle herself well in her job. A job that is as dangerous as it is necessary. But I'll admit, while she was missing yesterday," he looked at down at their conjoined hands and gave hers a small tug before returning his attention to the reporter, "it felt like the world had stopped and I was in danger of falling off of it. You're wearing a wedding ring, so maybe you can understand."

Veronica swallowed at this admission. They hadn't prepared stock answers to these questions, both agreeing that they would stick to simple truths to avoid sounding rehearsed. But Logan's statement made her realize just how much they still needed to talk about what had happened.

"Agent Mars, the two of you have known each other since high school, is that correct?"

There were a couple of monitors set up behind their table, and she had given instructions to the AV tech for when this line of questioning came up. She gave him a small nod and answered, "Actually, since we were twelve."

A picture came up, of her and Logan the first summer they'd known each other. They were at the beach and had come in from the water, just to get into a wrestling match. Both were coated in sand and laughing, Logan's arms slung around her neck after she'd conceded his win. She'd just ended her growth spurt and Logan had barely started his, so they were the same height. He was all gangly arms and bony chest in his swim trunks, and she a skinny child in a dark blue tank suit, no sign of the curves that took another interminable two more years to really develop. She'd chosen the picture because she wanted to convey not only their long connection, but innocence.

"We were friends for a long time, and then dated a bit in high school and college before we lost touch." It was the natural opening to ask about Lilly, despite their strictures, and she held her breath as she waited for the next question, but let it back out again when the reporters stayed on approved topics.

"How long have you been back together?"

Since the question wasn't specifically directed at either of them, Logan picked it up. "Over four years. I had just moved to New York and Veronica was already living here, though I didn't know it. We reconnected through a mutual friend."

Veronica had to wonder what Charlie was going to say about that sanitized version of events and, from the devilish grin he gave her, knew Logan was thinking the same thing. She barely kept herself from rolling her eyes.

"Logan, you and Charlie McGeary were interviewed for Entertainment Weekly a couple of years ago, when the movie you wrote based on his book was released. The interviewer asked you what your ideal woman would be like. Do you remember your answer?"

Veronica turned to face Logan, the memory of the reward she'd given him after reading that interview bouncing deliciously between them. He kept his eyes locked on hers and brought her hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on the palm before turning away to respond to the reporter's question. Catching herself watching closely as he swallowed, and ran his tongue over his lips for a second before answering, she forced herself to face their audience. She could still feel where those lips had touched her hand, and it was distracting her from her goal with this conference.

Logan nodded and gave a low chuckle. "I said she would be some combination of Sydney Bristow and Goldie Hawn. Smart, funny, gorgeous, and able to kick some serious ass. Since Veronica worked undercover we couldn't go public with our relationship, but I was definitely describing her."

"Speaking of going public, there was never any mention of your being married until today. How did you keep your wedding a secret? "

"Well, it helps to have a fiancé that specializes in covert ops. Veronica planned every detail of the wedding, and we both brainstormed ways to keep us from being connected publicly even after we were married."

"What was the wedding like?"

Veronica took her turn with this question. She didn't personally get it, but had seen enough covers of rag mags in the grocery store to know weddings were big news. The question was expected. "It was small. A formal, traditional ceremony followed by a great party. My dad and all our best friends came. The only downside was that we didn't get to eat any cake." She had brought one other picture, also chosen for specific reasons. She knew there would be curiosity about their wedding but she also wanted to highlight the fun part of their relationship.

The AV tech changed the picture to one of Veronica and Logan in their wedding clothes, laughing at the end of what was obviously a vicious cake war. They were both plastered in frosting, with bits of cake smashed into their once pristine wedding getups. Veronica had her head turned away, eyes scrunched up and laughing hysterically as Logan held one of her fingers in his mouth, licking off the frosting while managing to look ridiculous and lecherous at the same time. The crumbled remains of a cake were in the background, utterly destroyed. Looking at the picture again, she could almost hear Wallace shaking his head and walking away, muttering, "That was a perfectly good cake."

Once the laughter died down, another reporter asked, "Logan, what do you have to say about the Melissa Wells story? Especially in light of the NBCNews article that came out this morning claiming it was all a lie?"

With a smirk, Logan shook his head. "A lie on the internet? Is that possible?" His smarm made Veronica laugh, as well as several others in the room, and she marveled at how comfortable he was in this world. "I have no comment. I think the NBC article addressed the situation well enough."

"Agent Mars, what's next for you in your job?"

She smiled and shook her head slightly. This was a question even she didn't have an answer to yet. "I'm off undercover, obviously, but there is a lot of other work to be done. I'm excited at the opportunity."

Through the cacophony of the reporters vying for the next question, Veronica distinctly heard someone say 'Lilly Kane'. Logan was the first to react, standing up and reaching a hand down to help her up.

He gave a genial smile, but she could see the tightness in it. "If you'll excuse us, we have another appointment this evening." He put his hand on her waist to help usher her out, following their staffer until they were back in the safety of their room.

They sank onto the couch, laughing with relief. She had no idea how people did that as part of their jobs. No wonder presidents flubbed their speeches and beauty queens gave such horrible answers to practiced question. That was an inhuman amount of stress.

"So, is Logan and Veronica's Day of Fun over, or is there another stop planned?"

She reached for her bag on the floor and dug out her phone. "Fun definitely over, but there may be another stop. Let me make a call and check up on one thing before we change and get out of here."

By the time they reached the next address, Logan's phone was buzzing every two minutes with updates from the clipping service. Thanks to the press conference, new stories were being written and posted incessantly. He finally turned the thing off, not caring about the reaction to their press conference.

He took a good look at the building they were facing and felt his stomach do a flip. It was a large warehouse, obviously abandoned; the kind that would be a haven for crack heads and five dollar prostitutes.

"Veronica, you have got to be kidding me. You are not going in there."

She turned and gave him a reassuring smile, walking backwards towards the warehouse. "I wasn't planning on it. Wait here. And relax, I'm carrying."

As she faced forward again and moved toward the entrance, she lifted up the back of her jacket to remind him of the gun tucked into her waistband. Somehow it didn't make him feel any better, but he resigned himself to the task of keeping watch for any signs of danger. It was already dark, and this wasn't the kind of neighborhood where anything good happened after dark.

"Ten minutes, Mars. Then you're leaving whether you want to or not."

He watched as Veronica used her fist to bang on the door of what was once an employee entrance. When no one answered after a long moment, she started banging again, three beats on and three beats quiet until the door was opened by a short blond kid in dirty, worn clothing, and hair so matted it had become dreadlocks.

"What the fuck you want, bitch?" Dreads yelled.

"I need to talk to Anne," Veronica answered, sounding completely unruffled by the punk.

"Fuck you," Dreads said, then stepped back to slam the door in her face. Logan had abandoned the bike at the kid's first comment, and reached them by the time Veronica had stuck out a foot to prevent the door from closing.

Dreads moved forward to deal with Veronica, but encountered Logan instead. She had stepped back when Logan reached his arm between her and the kid, grabbed him by the front of his greasy shirt, and pulled him out to slam against the wall. All seven inches of Logan's superior height was used to intimidate as he got in the boy's face.

"Never, and I mean, never, talk to my wife like that again. Got it?" The tang of urine burned his nose, and Logan wasn't sure how much of it was fresh. But if he had made the kid piss himself, all the better.

Dreads looked up at him and nodded, his lower lip quivering like he was going to cry.

"Let's try it again. Is Anne here?" Again Dreads nodded. Logan let go of the rancid shirt and ordered. "Get her. Now."

Once the punk had scurried inside, Veronica rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "That wasn't strictly necessary."

He ignored her irritation in favor of his own, glaring at her as he wiped his hand on his jeans. "If you know me at all, you know it was."

She snorted and stepped back to lean against a pillar that held up the parapet, texting someone on her cell phone while they waited. He was sure he heard her mutter "John Wayne," under her breath, but he ignored it since he also saw her lips twitch as she tried to keep from smiling.

It only took a couple of minutes for a short, plump, Eurasian-looking girl with a wide nose, thick chestnut hair and expressive brown eyes to materialize. Her clothes had a number of holes and rips but, unlike the kid who had fetched her, it looked like she made an effort to stay clean. Logan could only imagine how hard that would be in these conditions.

With all but those closest to her, Veronica was stingy with her affections. She didn't often hug friends hello, or indulge in casual contact by patting people on the back or putting her hands on their shoulders. Therefore, Logan was completely surprised when she was the first to move forward and pull the young girl into a hug.

"Why did you run away from the foster home?" Veronica scolded.

Anne grimaced and pulled away, but found her face caught between Veronica's hands as the reprimand continued. "I told you it was just for a day. Why didn't you listen to me?"

The girl shrugged and looked down at her feet. "People say stuff. Doesn't mean they follow through."

"Yeah, well I do. Once you're my friend, you're kind of stuck with me," Veronica said. At Logan's laugh, Anne turned her head to look at him.

He gave her a small smile and nodded. "It's true. I've known her eighteen years and can't seem to get rid of her."

Anne just gave him a suspicious look.

Veronica claimed her attention again. "Were you serious about everything you told me last night? About wanting to go to school and get a job?"

Anne nodded, but looked at her like she was bored. "What can you do about it?"

"More than you think. A friend of my husband's owns an apartment building. He agreed to let you have a studio, rent free, for a year."

Logan looked at her in surprise, still not used to her referring to him as her husband with strangers. The word didn't get used much with people they already knew, and he was elated at the sound of it.

Anne's brow furrowed at this information. "Why would he do that? He doesn't even know me."

"He owes me. And don't worry about it; he's come a long way, but still has a karma deficit to work off. But there are three conditions."

"There always are." Anne stepped back with crossed arms, and Logan watched as her face hardened into an expression he could only interpret as closed. He recognized it for the defensive action it was, familiar from Veronica when she was the same age. This kid had been hurt, and had learned to get tough.

"One, you have to work. I have a lawyer friend who is going to take your emancipation case pro bono, in exchange for your help. She needs a Girl Friday. It pays decent and is only for a few hours a day after school. Two, you have to make the grades, at least a 3.0."

Anne nodded, then asked, "And the third?"

"You have to trust me. You keep up your end of this deal, and I've got your back. That includes letting me know when you're having a hard time with something."

Anne stood there, arms still crossed, looking between the warehouse and Veronica. Finally she nodded, and said, "But if I don't like it I'm going to bail, got it?"

Logan almost laughed out loud again, but wisely held it back. It was obvious to him that Veronica had sunk her teeth into this kid and she was fiercely protective of those she considered hers, no matter how much they pissed her off . Even senior year of high school, when he'd been constantly making asinine comments to her and doing his best to make her jealous, she'd helped him when he'd asked. She hadn't even given up on Weevil, as much as he'd deserved it. She might as well brand this kid and get it over with.

As Veronica nodded, a car pulled up to park next to his bike, and Henry climbed out. Introductions were quickly dispensed, and Henry kept her attention on Anne. "Are you ready to go?"

Anne's eyes grew wide as she looked from Veronica to Henry. "You mean now?"

Veronica put her hand on the girl's arm, then rubbed up and down in a gesture of comfort. "The apartment comes furnished and Henry stocked it with food. No one is going to hassle you there." The look they exchanged was loaded, and apparently carried enough meaning to have the girl run inside to grab her stuff and follow Henry to the car.

Once they were alone, walking toward the bike, Logan veered to the side and bumped her shoulder.

"What?" Veronica asked, looking up at him.

He smiled down at her, his tone teasing though he was actually being serious. "You're like the fiercest guardian angel ever."

Veronica snorted and bumped him back. "She just got to me. Reminds me of someone, but I can't figure out who."

"Let me think. She's smart, sarcastic, untrusting, wise beyond her years…sounding familiar yet?"

She froze, then rolled her eyes. "Crap. Am I going to have to go to therapy again?"

He laughed and put his arm around her hip, bringing her side flush with his as he kissed the top of her head. "How about home first?"

They parked the bike at the garage nearest their house, storing the helmets and gloves but keeping the jackets on for the walk home.

"So, where did the bikes come from, anyway?"

"I broke in that black AmEx you foisted on me. That one really is yours. I told Adam and Liv they could keep the other bikes as a thank you."

He snorted and placed his arm across her shoulders. "First talking about quitting your job, then pricey presents for our friends. Most guys don't get a trophy wife until their second or third go-round."

"I don't think I really qualify until I bling out my phone with Swarovski crystals, schedule regular spa days and get a personal shopper."

Stopping under a street light, he took the first good look at her since leaving the studio. He'd been about to make a remark about other things trophy wives were known for, but the comment died on his lips. She looked drained. She was pale and he could see a slight tremor in her hand when she lifted it to brush back her hair.

He lined her jaw with his hands and spoke sternly. "Is your head bothering you again, or is it something else?"

Her smile was rueful as she shook her head. "I'm just hungry, and ready to be home."

Nodding, he tucked her under the crook of his arm. They hadn't eaten in hours and he knew better than to let her go that long without food. Her metabolism burned up fuel almost as quickly as she took it in; the hummingbird comparison was apt in more ways than one. As they turned the corner and saw the street party still set up in their honor, they gave matching sighs of resignation.

Veronica unzipped her jacket, pushing it open so the pears and slogan were clearly visible. "Time to pay back Dick."

The Vasenden twins, quickly tuning into their presence, moved in to flank them and clear a path through the throng. Logan admired the game face Veronica wore. Smiling and laughing, she threw answers to some of their questions as he held her close and pushed their way through. "I'm just glad to be home." "It helped to know Logan was waiting for me." "Logan has been amazing through all this." "I knew my fellow agents would come through."

While she talked to the reporters he tilted his ear toward Vasenden Thing 1, getting the security update. No breaches had been detected, no threats had been received, and the dogs had been walked and fed a few hours before.

Finally getting in the house, he collapsed against the door while Veronica dropped to her knees and gave each of the dogs a huge hug. Despite their edict about baby talk she was crooning to them, "Who's my boys? That's right, you are. Yes you are." The dogs were wriggling and rubbing up against her as she scratched them all over.

"I really better get some food in you before you start letting them lick you on the mouth."

"Only one guy in this house is allowed that privilege, mostly because he doesn't spend all his down time licking himself."

Logan cocked an eyebrow at her then headed toward the fridge, opening it to evaluate their options. "Only because I'm not that flexible. Don't underestimate my depravity."

With a laugh, Veronica got up and headed toward the dining room. "I don't underestimate it; I count on it. I'm going to let the dogs out back for a minute."

"Mmm hmm." Pulling out a carton of eggs, a bag of shredded cheese, ham, and green onions, he started putting together the fixings for an omelet. He had only cracked a couple of the eggs when she came back and grabbed the onions, washed them one-handed, and started dicing. They worked companionably until everything was combined, then she hopped onto the counter next to him while he cooked.

She was being a pest, leaning over the pan to give an exaggerated sniff, trying to stick her fingers in the mixture to cage a piece of ham, and laughing every time he used the spatula to swat her hand away. He managed to deflect her long enough to get the damn thing done, then shoved a plate at her and ordered her to eat.

He knew what she was doing; trying to get him irritated enough so that when she finally went to kiss him, he wouldn't be so careful with her. That was fine with him – she'd already made the point that she was up for it—but he was going to make sure she was fed first.

Positioning himself against the counter opposite from her, and out of reach, he smiled when she took the first bite and rolled her eyes, moaning. She was done before he'd eaten even half of his, and was eyeing it hungrily. He chuckled and placed his plate on the counter to her right, loaded a bite onto his fork, and held it out to her. Just as she went to bite down, he pulled it out of her reach.

"You want it?"

With a wicked smile she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to stand in front of her. She put her knees on either side of his waist, and dangled her calves by his thighs. Ignoring the fork he held out to her, instead she took his bottom lip in her teeth. "I want it."

Dropping the fork on the counter and grabbing her hips so he could pull her closer, he brought her body flush against his. When he tilted his head and matched his lips to hers, all the small starts they had had throughout the day finally got their payout. They were both too heated to be tentative, and he groaned when he felt her hand slide down the front of his pants to give him a squeeze.

Reaching around to slide his hands up the back of her shirt, he encountered her gun and slid it out, checking it and pulling out a drawer before throwing it in.

Her stomach started to shake, and he could tell she was biting the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing. "I guess that's better than the time you tripped the safety, then knocked it into the toilet when you lifted me onto the bathroom counter."

He went for her neck, finding the spots she loved best. Hearing her intake of breath, he smiled against her skin before resuming his task. "I still don't think that plumber bought our story about how the bowl got smashed. This time I made sure the safety was still on."

"Good thing—," her words were cut off when he caught her earlobe between his teeth and made an exaggerated purring sound.

His hand on her spine, he felt the shiver that went through her, and laughed when she threw her head back, giggling.

"Stop! That just feels weird."

While they were having fun, enjoying being able to play in this way again, he also knew where their playfulness was leading. He wanted nothing more in that moment that to be inside her, and hear the deeper, huskier way her voice sounded when she said his name, as she always did at some point when they made love. It had been too long since he'd heard her sound that way.

"What do you say we move this upstairs before Jordan Green opens the kitchen door and gives the press a real inside glimpse at our marriage?"

"A celebrity caught on camera schtuping his own wife? The earth might just tip on its axis with news like that." Her face was almost lit-up at the thought, and he had to admit it would be an interesting twist to their story. But, a few photographs aside, their lives weren't for public viewing.

He pulled her off the counter, supporting her weight until she wrapped her arms and legs around him like a spider-monkey, and then headed for the stairs. "Yeah, it's all fun and games until your dad picks up a newspaper."

It was almost a month before they could escape to Scotland. Veronica spent a lot of time with Anne, making sure she was adapting to her new life well. Logan wanted to finish the screenplay adaptation of Charlie's book, and they decided to take a short trip to the West Coast to see Keith and their friends. they also didn't want a lot of reporters following them across the ocean, so chose to wait until their term as media darlings had ended.

They had done their best to ignore the attention given them. Logan had grown up around it, but it was difficult for Veronica at first, since she wasn't used to being photographed every moment they were away from the house. However, the newfound freedom of not having to hide their relationship made them both lighthearted and silly, and soon she was having too much fun to care. They took in Yankee games, spent a day playing at Coney Island, went out to dinners with Charlie and Henry, and rode the Ducati on day trips out of the city.

Before the end of that month, reporters were no longer haunting their stoop; once several hundred photos of them laughing and kissing were already gracing the tabloids, interest started to wane. Melissa had slunk off to her hometown in Florida to live with her elderly mother, and had agreed to not talk to any media in exchange for their dropping the lawsuit.

Dick had come through, sending them pictures of a behemoth of a house in Onich, about ten miles outside of Fort William. It had all the amenities they had asked for – including being situated on a large property so they could take the dogs, and isolated enough that any reporters would stand out. It had seven bedrooms, was right on the coast, and had a snooker room, something they were both thrilled about. Though they hadn't even gotten there yet, the bragging and betting had already begun. Logan had done some internet research and discovered a local sport called canyoning he wanted to try. .

Once on the plane, she waited until they were an hour into the flight to bring up the topic she'd been sitting on for the past several days. Since the morning after the kidnapping they'd had only a few brief, conversations about her job, but no actual decisions had been made. She still insisted she wanted to leave the FBI, and he was positive she'd change her mind after some time off. Though she knew the real reason was that, oddly, after the kidnapping he thought she was safer with the FBI than anywhere else.

"Logan?"

"Hmmm?" He looked up from his Surfing Magazine with a distracted expression.

"How long did you say we have the house for?"

He frowned when he looked at her, confused by the question. "As long as we want it. Why? Don't you have to be back to work in a month?"

"If I go back there." She didn't want to meet his stare until they got to the end of this conversation, so glanced away from him and started doodling in the margins of the crossword puzzle she was working on.

"Veronica. Can you spare me the big buildup and just tell me where this is going?" He sounded irritated, which she found oddly comforting. At least he wasn't pulling a knuckle-dragging move and refusing to even talk about her options.

She started drawing emoticons in the boxes of her puzzle, trying to guess which expression Logan would wear once she'd told him everything. "I got an interesting offer from a P.I. agency."

"You said you really didn't want to go back to cheating spouses and dog 'nappings." Still irritated, now he also sounded a little bored, as if girding himself for a rehash of a conversation they'd already had.

"I wouldn't be. The majority of their clients are non-profit organizations. Adoption agencies commission them to look into prospective parents, as well as do periodic follow-ups after the adoption. The job also includes a lot of in-depth background checks, looking into the history of major donors and potential employees – a non-profit's reputation is all they have, so they need to know people's history before they let them into the inner circle. Their biggest client is the ACLU. The job starts in three months, when the person I'd be replacing is going on permanent maternity leave."

"The ACLU? That's kind of causy for you." The irritation and boredom was gone from his voice, replaced with interest tinged by confusion. She could teach a class on reading his emotions from his voice alone. It was almost as expressive as his eyes. Her pen started drawing their exact shape in the remaining boxes of her puzzle, trying to perfect the slant they acquired when he smiled.

"I wouldn't be getting into the political aspects of the group, just digging for the facts. I would get to lead my own unit, and they said I would have a lot of autonomy and flexibility for how I go about my work. It's low risk, but should be really interesting."

When he was quiet, she dared peek at him out of the corner of her eye. He was shaking his head as he looked at her, his eyes wide and his mouth open as he moved his jaw, a bit of a smile playing around his lips. "That's…awesome."

"Yeah?" She turned her head to fully look at him now.

"Um…yeah. Leave it to you to find another way to save the world when you get tired of people trying to kill you." His smile was gaining wattage the more he thought about it, but then she watched as his gleeful expression changed to one of mock concern.

"Well, I mean maybe. It really depends how much they're paying you. I don't intend to take a lifestyle hit just so you can 'find yourself'."

She was laughing before he got to the end of his little speech. "The money is much better, and I think I'll like the work, but the real upside is that I get to be home every night."

He cocked his head to the side and tightened his jaw before responding to that, the amusement leaving his face. "Is that why you want to do it? It's been great having you by my side with everything this past month, but I'm a big boy. I can handle you being out on long assignments."

"Logan, I-"

She saw the way he cut his eyes around to make sure no one was listening as he grew more irritated. "No, dammit. Marrying me was compromise enough for your career. We both knew a day would come when—"

This time it was she who interrupted him. "God! You're like a twenty-first century Ralph Cramden! Did it ever occur to you that I want to be home every night? That this isn't just about you?"

"Then what's it about?"

She snorted at the genuine confusion on his face. He really could be egocentric sometimes. "Me. What I want. There's a saying: 'work to live, not live to work'. I've had it backwards for too long. I'm tired of cancelling plans with friends and answering every invitation with 'if I'm not working'. Plus, I told you it hasn't felt right at the Bureau for a while. I'm the proverbial square peg and am so done with trying to be round."

He took his time considering what she'd said, pressing the knuckles of his hand against hers, and studying her face as their fingers laced together. "Are you sure those reasons are enough that you won't regret it later?"

"No, you nimrod." The left side of her mouth lifted in a wry smile. "I said it's not just about you. But have you ever heard that regret comes a day too late?" His mouth turned up in a small smile and he nodded, waiting for her to go on. "I want a real life with you. Not one that's filled with any more goodbyes and lonely nights apart. Especially for a job that I don't even want."

He laid the side of his head against the seat, giving her a soft, flirty look. "Nimrod? Does this mean I've graduated from jackass?" His eyes twinkled with humor at the new insult.

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. "It all hinges on the next ten seconds. What do you think? I have to let them know by next week."

His eyes got that deep, liquid look she loved, and she was grateful for the sparsely populated business-class cabin when he leaned toward her. "I think…congratulations. And I'm really proud of you." He gave her the sweetest of kisses, which grew into more with little provocation. Pulling back he rested his forehead against hers, letting out a sound that was a cross between a sigh and a groan.

He craned his head and looked around, probably noticing the nearest fellow passengers were two rows back, as she had. The blanket she'd asked for earlier was wadded up between them, and he shook it out, using it to cover both of their heads, as she laughed.

"If I'm going to be getting you every night, it's time we started living in the manner to which I intend to become accustomed."

The End

EPILOGUE

To: Nevertothethird

My friend, I've tried to think of a way to convey the thanks I owe to you for everything you given me and this story. Your laughter, encouragement, and insight pushed me through when I would have otherwise given up, or made very, very bad choices. (You know of which I speak)

I am also deeply in your debt for the hilarious, incendiary ficlets you have sent me consisting of our own special characters. So, since I have no way of making Adam either straight or real, I am left with only words to convey my gratitude.

Here it is; the epilogue you asked for. I hope you don't mind sharing with everyone else that has followed this story to the end.

"Veronica, there is no way in hell that's happening." Logan glared at the length of tartan she held up to him, even worse than the modern day man-skirt he'd imagined.

"Come on Logan, you said I could have anything I wanted on this trip." Her pout was overdone, and a little adorable, but he was unmoved by it.

He tilted his head down and narrowed his eyes at her. "I meant five-hundred dollar hand-knitted, wool sweaters and boring trips to linen museums. If you think that offer included me wearing a kilt of any kind, you really overestimated my generosity."

Undiscouraged, she pulled out her next stock move. Clutching the length of plaid to her breasts, she came close enough to walk the fingers of one hand up his chest in a flirty way, and look up at him through batting eyelashes. "But, I was thinking, if you wore it in the traditional sense..."

He snorted at the suggestion. As if there was any chance he was going to be mummified in a plaid dress without even the benefit of his briefs. Wool could be itchy…which did not mean he was even considering this.

"I'm not going commando. Especially not while trying to walk around in a dress. I'd trip." He took a step back and tucked his thumbs into his back pockets, silently daring her to try and continue this argument.

Catching the double meaning of his comment a moment before he did, Veronica's eye's shot to his crotch and her lips twitched. "Now who's overestimating?"

Finally seeing a little humor in the moment, Logan reached out and took the material out of her hands, throwing it around her shoulders and using it to keep her captive. He waggled his eyebrows before leaning down to speak directly into her ear, low, the way she liked it. "That wasn't what you said this morning."

She laughed and pulled her head back, away from his mouth, reaching up her hands to clutch the ends of the makeshift shawl. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm sure you do. But I'm more than willing to remind you, anyway." He let go of the tartan to pull her into his arms, then leaned down to kiss her. His move was thwarted, though, when she turned her head at the last second and let out a huge yawn.

Her games were predictable, but effective, and he quietly cursed as his resolve slipped a notch. He shook his head slightly and scowled down at her.

"Really? You're playing the tired card?"

Her shoulders moved in a shrug while she shook her head, as if to clear it; the damn smile she gave him was rife with apology and innocence. "Sorry. I didn't get much sleep last night. I just don't think I'm going to be much good until I work out this weird dream I've been having."

"A dream." At her nod, he let out a heavy sigh of resignation. "Would this be a dream where you're woken up by a kilt-clad Scotsman coming into the bedroom?"

Her mouth fell open in shock as she widened her eyes at him, but a smile played at the edges of her lips. "Have you been having it, too?"

She could be so fucking smug when she smelled victory. The many games of pool they'd played the past week had proven that.

He rolled his eyes and held out his hand. "Just give me the damn kilt, Veronica."

A/N: Ack! It feels impossible that this story has come to an end so soon. Thank you all for the reviews, follows and favorites—though more reviews would be appreciated! I would love to know what you think of how this final chapter played out. The plot bunnies are breeding so I'm sure we'll be seeing each other soon.