Current mood:	apathetic
Entry tags:	fanfiction, logan/veronica

Fic: Truth Be Told, part 8
Title: Truth Be Told
Author: monroeslittle
Genre: Veronica Mars
Rating: Teen (for later implications and such)
Summary: Marlie Echolls has as many doubts as any other sixteen-year-old girl. One thing she never doubted, however, was who her parents were. At least she didn't until a woman knocked on her grandfather's door and dropped the bombshell. Logan/Veronica; future fic.


Wallace had done some pretty stupid shit in his life.


The first thing that came to mind, of course, was the time he had been so desperate to succeed he’d cheated on a test. And who had made him feel better after that whole debacle? Veronica. It shouldn’t be surprising, really; she was his best friend. Sometimes he forgot, though, why she was such a big part of his life.


And then he would be reminded during simple moment like the time she said breezily, so very confident and assured of her words, that “you’re the good Wallace.” She wasn’t disappointed in him or upset. That confidence didn’t exactly fix everything, but it certainly made everything a hell of a lot easier to handle.


He was beginning to think now that perhaps he had made another mistake, but this time Veronica wasn’t going to brush that mistake aside. Because she was suffering from that mistake . . . if it was a mistake; he still wasn’t so sure. He had understood Marlie’s need to get to know Lianne; it wasn’t wrong of her. He had felt the exact same once upon a time. He knew she wasn’t just trying to hurt her mom, just as he hadn’t simply meant to hurt his mom by leaving with Nathan all those years ago.


But that didn’t mean Veronica wasn’t hurt nonetheless. She tried to hide it by means of all her usual weapons: giving snapping, snarky comments, abruptly changing the subject, throwing herself into her work, and pretending absolutely nothing bothered her. It was an art she had perfected all those years ago to go along with her butch boots and taser.


Wallace Fennel was no fool.


There was nothing he could really say to comfort her that he hadn’t already said, that Logan and Keith and Mac hadn’t all already said. There was nothing he could do, either; he had no more power over Marlie’s decision than anyone else. And usually he was okay with that. He had, after all, encouraged Marlie to get to know Lianne . . . in a way.


Whenever he saw Veronica staring off into space, however, her face cold, her eyes glazed, and her mouth a thin line, he doubted his encouragement. Would it have been better for everyone involved to have told Marlie that he regretted going to live with Nathan and that he should have stayed with his mom and brother and she should learn from his mistake?


He couldn’t decide.


It would have been easier to know if he knew how Marlie was faring. Did she like living with Lianne? Had she made the change easily? Did she miss her parents? Did she talk to them very often? (He could never get any answers out of Veronica.) Did she regret her decision to live with Lianne? He had no idea. He hadn’t seen or heard from her since she’d made the move.


Was she okay?


On Thursday morning, Wallace determinedly dialed the number he had found for Lianne Mars. Neptune students had Friday off and he was banking on Marlie not having made plans yet. Would she be interested in a day spent with him? He could find out how everything was going, what she was really feeling. . . .


“Hello?” Lianne answered, sounding slightly panicked. At least, he thought it was Lianne. He had never actually met her.


“Hi, this is Marlie’s Uncle Wallace. Could I talk to her?” he asked.


“Ah, no, no you can’t. . . .” Before Wallace could protest, she added softly, “She’s not here.”


Wallace frowned. It was seven in the morning. Where else would the girl be? “What do you mean she’s not there?” he asked. “Did she leave for school already?”


“No . . . she didn’t come home last night.”


Wallace called Veronica then, and that was when he got the whole story.
 

---

The party took place on the beach.


Marlie spent nearly two hours getting ready with her friends beforehand. Lianne had been all smiles, obviously happy that Marlie was happy. The older woman didn't even care that it was a Wednesday and therefore a school night.


And then Sam had come to pick her up. He had come over to her house, had made nice with Lianne, and was driving Marlie to the party. It was a date. While she would have preferred their first date to be a little more . . . personal, she didn't really care. This was more relaxed, anyway.


"So that woman wasn't your mother, was she?" he asked her when they first got into the car. She had introduced Lianne simply as Lianne. He must have noticed the look on her face, because he added hastily, "I just mean that I thought your mom was Veronica Echolls."


"She . . . she is," Marlie answered. "Lianne is also my mom, though. It's complicated." Thankfully, he asked nothing more, only gave her an understanding smile.


But then, as he punched the radio on and commented on how much he liked the song that was playing, Marlie suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to say something, to say everything. "I just found out, actually," she told him.


"Yeah?" he asked, sounding interested but not about to press her. She liked that.


"I always thought Veronica was my mom. But then I found out she was really my sister. My real mom was the same as hers, was Lianne. But Lianne hadn't been able to raise me so Veronica did."


"That's . . . kind of crazy," he said slowly.


"Tell me about it," she murmured. She caught him looking at her. "Eyes on the road, buddy," she teased. He smiled and looked back out the windshield. She grinned to herself.


A few minutes later he started talking, his voice smooth and perfect, and he spent the rest of the care ride telling her a story about his lab digging up his mother's rose garden that afternoon, and he had her laughing so hard she was crying by the time they arrived at the beach.


She talked with his friends, most of whom she had known for years, and at one point he put his arm over her shoulder. She was delighted. They both got drinks from the keg, and though she thought it had a little too much of a kick to it, it didn't matter; she didn't take more than a few sips. He was certainly drinking a lot, but he looked as if he could handle it.


"Are you having fun?" he asked her at one point. He was leaning down towards her as he spoke, and she could feel his breath warm on her face, making it all the better of a moment. She nodded, smiling.


"Of course."


"You want something a little stronger to drink?" he offered, his voice lower, and he flashed her a flask from his pocket. Veronica Echolls would have been proud at that moment, because her voice managed to worm its way into Marlie's thoughts. "And never, under any circumstance whatsoever, take a drink from someone else. It doesn't matter if it's your BFF. You get your own drinks, always."


Why was she thinking of her mother at that moment?


She brushed all thoughts of her mother aside, but she still shook her head at his offer. "I'm good, thanks," she told him, smiling again. He nodded in understanding and then drained the rest of his cup before proceeding to refill it with the drink in the flask.


Marlie glanced over and Amy caught her eye. 'How's it going?' Amy mouthed. Marlie gave her a large grin and Amy mimed clapping in excitement. Marlie was chuckling softly as she turned her attention back to Sam and his friends. An hour later, however, and she was starting to get a little bored. His friends were all getting wasted and it had long since passed amusing and was now annoying.


"You want to go somewhere else?" Sam asked, noticing her slow change of mood. "We can talk or something. We really haven't had a chance to talk yet."


"I'd love to, actually," she said.


He grabbed her hand. "C'mon, we can walk down along the beach. Nobody'll be over on Dog Beach this time of night. Hopefully." He made a face, she laughed, and off they went.


"So what do you think of Neptune?" she asked him as the sounds of the party started to fade. They walked hand in hand, and she felt herself pretty in the blue dress Amy had helped her pick out and her favorite little purse tucked beneath her arm. "I mean, I know you've lived here for a year now, but still. How's it compare to the rest of the world?"


"Better parties here," he answered. "And better girls." She nearly melted under his gaze. "But I still miss Chicago a little bit, too. There was a lot more to do there. But you haven't lived here your whole life, either, have you?"


"No," she said. "We used to visit all the time because my parents grew up here, but we didn't move here until five years ago when my mom had my little brother Ben. I have such a bad memory, though," she joked, "I might as well have lived here my whole life." He chuckled and there was a brief moment of silence.


"So, what's with your name?" he finally asked.


"It's short for Marlene. I think my dad came up with it. The nickname, I mean." He nodded but didn't say anything. He had stopped walking and turned to face her.


"Do you like it?" he finally asked. "Or do your prefer Marlene?"


She shrugged. "I don't mind it — Marlie. It's my name, you know? I've always been Marlie. It's a little weird when people call me Marlene."


"Well, Marlie," he said slowly, grabbing her left hand so that he gripped both her hands now. He stepped closer. Her heart suddenly started racing. She had been kissed before, but she already knew his kiss would be better. He leaned down. She started to lean up. His eyes were on her lips. She closed her eyes.


It was a good kiss. It was an amazing kiss. She opened her mouth to his and let him wrap his arms warmly around her back, pulling her to him. It was perfect. There was nothing else in the world but him and her and the waves crashing softly on the short a few feet away.


And then it spiraled out of control.
 

---

Eli Navarro stepped out of his truck, sighing. Before he slammed the door shut, he looked back at the passenger seat and the yellow lab that sat happily panting. "You coming or what?" he asked the dog. The large animal, understanding, scrambled across the seats and jumped out of the truck before allowing Weevil to clamp a leash down on him.


"Let's go," Weevil muttered and they started across the beach. Sometimes he couldn't believe this had become his life. He got in a fight with Rachel and blew off steam by walking his Labrador dog on the beach. Who did that?


And who had a lab for a dog? Of all the animals, Rachel had to choose that one. "They're so playful, Eli," she told him, smiling with those big blue eyes. Those would be the death of him. He always went for the girls who had big blue eyes. He snorted to himself. It could have been worse: the woman could have pleaded for a Chihuahua or poodle or some other white plaything.


Of course, Rachel might have blue eyes, but she also had brown hair. Blondes were too much work for Weevil. Not that Rachel wasn't work; the day Weevil had actually married her he had been setting himself up for a lifetime of Labrador puppies and manipulative blue eyes and leaving after a fight to walk on the beach rather than go to a bar or something any sane man would do.


It's not like that would change anytime soon. Rachel was pregnant. Weevil wasn't going anywhere now; she officially had him for good. Even as he thought it, Callie tugged on her leash so suddenly that a distracted Weevil didn't stand a chance: the leash slipped through his fingers and Callie was off, barking as she raced across the beach. "Hey! Get back here!" Weevil shouted.


Groaning to himself, he started after the dumb dog. He didn't have to run too far, however, because Callie had reached her destination and stood happily with Marlie Echolls. Weevil slowed. He was pretty sure it was her. He hadn't seen her in a long time, but he could probably recognize Veronica's Mini-Me anywhere. But what the hell was she doing on Dog Beach at this time of night?


"Marlie?" he asked as he came closer. It was definitely her. And she was crying. Her make-up ran down her face and . . .  and her shirt was ripped. Weevil saw red for an instant, his mind reeling with sudden conclusions. "What's going on?"


"Hey Weevil," she greeted softly. "I — I was just at the party and . . . can you give me a ride home, please?"


"Did somebody hurt you?" Weevil asked darkly. "He still here?"


Marlie shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself and not even seeming to notice the eager dog that nudged at her legs. "Can you please give me a ride home? I don't . . . I need to go home."


Weevil didn't ask anymore questions. He never did. Those blue-eyed blondes always got to him. He nodded and led her back to his truck. She didn't meet his gaze as she climbed into the truck, but he saw her fingers curl into Callie's fur as they started out down the road.


He had talked to Veronica the other day when she'd called to congratulate him on the pregnancy. He didn't really know what was going on, but. . . . "Where you want to go?" he asked softly.


"Home," she repeated. "Home."


"Home it is," he told her and she mustered a small smile for him.


The rest of the ride was painfully silent. It wasn't the longest drive in the world, but it was long enough. Weevil found himself hoping Rachel didn't have a girl. He couldn't handle the things people do to sweet little girls. He pulled his truck into the big-ass house Logan Echolls had bought and put it into park. But Marlie didn't make a move to leave. Weevil frowned. "I thought you meant —?"


"I did mean here," Marlie murmured. "But I just realized I . . . I can't go in that house." He didn't know what to say. "Ah, I guess can you just . . . can you take me to, um, this house up on . . . it's kind of far away, but I can't go in there and see my parents."


"Look, girl, I don't know what's going on with you and your mom," he began hesitantly, "but V will want to know what happened. She'll want to help you."


"You don't understand," Marlie told him. "My mom always warned me and she'll . . . she knew something like this would happen and I didn't listen to her and .  .  . I can't face her."


Weevil didn't know much, but he knew enough to know Marlie was wrong. He could drive her back to where ever she was staying now with the woman Veronica had sneered about over the phone. Or he could honk his horn. Loudly.


He did.


"What are you doing?" Marlie asked him. He couldn't read her expression through the dark.


"Waking someone up," he replied, slamming his palm on the horn and letting it blare through the night. A light turned on in a room on the second floor of the house. Marlie suddenly started swatting at her eyes, trying to wipe her running make-up with her hands. All she managed to do was smear mascara on her cheeks and her knuckles.


The porch lights turned on. Weevil started to get out of his truck. Marlie didn't move.


Logan Echolls, wearing boxers and a t-shirt, opened the front door and stood squinting at the headlights of the truck. When Weevil stepped all the way out of the car, he saw recognition dawn on the white boy's face. Echolls started towards him.


"What are you doing here?" he shouted, not angry but clearly confused. Weevil looked back into the car at Marlie and saw her staring at her father.


"I got something for you," Weevil yelled back. Before he could say more, though, the other truck door opened and Marlie barreled out of it and at her father. The shocked man didn't hesitate in hugging his daughter as she sobbed into his shoulder but he looked over at Weevil as if for some sort of explanation. "Found her at the beach," Weevil said simply.


Echolls didn't seem to have a response, but Weevil gave him a small nod and then climbed back into his truck. He needed to go to his own home. He needed to see Rachel. Callie barked as they pulled out of the drive, bathing Marlie and her dad in darkness, but he only patted her head. "Good girl," he murmured. "Good girl."
 

---

Marlie barely knew how she got into the house. Her father lead her, probably half carried her, and before long she was on the couch in the living room, trying to stop crying. He hadn't asked her anything and she was glad for that. She had missed him so much and. . . .


"Who was it, Logan?" her mother asked. Marlie sat with her face pressed against her father's chest and she couldn't see her mom, but she heard when the woman whispered softly, "Marlie. . . ."


A moment later, small, soft hands were stroking her hair. "What happened?" her mom asked. She didn't say anything. "Baby," her mom whispered, and slowly she drew Marlie from her father's grasp. Marlie sat there, then, curled up against her dad with his arm around her shoulder while her mother knelt on the ground, her hair in a messy bun and her eyes large and searching as she brushed at Marlie's face.


"You've got a bruise forming on your neck," her mom said softly, her fingers dusting across the spot. Marlie swallowed thickly. There was no point in trying to deny anything.


"You know," she said, forcing herself to stop crying, "you know how you always used to stick pepper spray in my purse and every time I took it out you would put it back in until I finally gave up?" Marlie asked. Her mom nodded, not saying a word. "Well, it was still in there when I went to a party and . . . and Sam and I were kissing and then he — and I had to use it."


"You — you had to . . . did anything —?" her mom's voice had gotten very soft and it was clear she was at a loss for words.


"It worked," Marlie whispered. The tears began to well up in her eyes against her will as she remembered the whole series of events. Her face began to contort in an attempt to hold back the tears. It was a failed attempt.


"Come here," her mom murmured, and as Veronica sat on the couch, Marlie found herself hugging her mom, enveloped in the soft, sweet smell that was her mother, that was reassurance when the doctor put the needle to her arm and comfort when the nightmare was too real, that was so very much like home. "It's okay," her mom whispered, rocking slightly and stroking her hair as Marlie began to cry again. "It's okay. It's okay. I've got you. I'm here. Daddy's here. It's okay. It's okay."


"I'm sorry for — for everything," Marlie whispered, "and I . . . I —"


"Don't think about that now," her mom murmured, "it's okay." Her tears started to subside slightly and she said nothing more, letting herself melt into her mother. "Let it out. Cry it out. It's all okay. That's my girl," her mom said softly, her voice reassuring. "That's my baby."

---

He had volunteered to get more beer. He couldn't believe they'd run out: as seniors in college, shouldn't they know how much beer they'd need? He was the only one who could really go out and get anything, though, as he was the only one still sober. It wasn't even that late at night! They were pathetic.


He was in the grocery store right on the edge of the campus, trying to load the basket he'd gotten and wishing he'd chosen a cart instead when he saw her. She had cut her hair short, so short it didn't even brush her shoulders, and was wearing a t-shirt and jeans while she tried to choose between two different kinds of peanut butter.


No one else was in the aisle. Unable to resist, he called out her name. "Veronica!"


She looked away from the peanut butter and he saw recognition quickly followed by shock dawn on her face. "Piz?" A smile split her face. He approached her, grinning. "Hey, I didn't know you were in town!" she said as glanced briefly back at what must have been her cart.


"Yeah, I came home for winter break to see my parents and I thought I'd visit Neptune for the weekend to see Wallace and some of the boys. Hearst hasn't changed much."


"Yeah, no, it hasn't," she agreed, smiling. She looked much the same as she did years ago when he had known her, when he had dated her; she had the same sparkling blue eyes, dark make-up, and addictive smile. "How's the East coast?"


"Amazing!" he immediately assured. "I love it out there."


"Still in the radio biz?"


"Definitely," he nodded. "I already have a job starting in July for a local radio station."


"That's great, Piz," she told him, smiling widely, "that's really great."


"What about you?" he asked. He had heard tid-bits from Wallace, such as the fact that her mother had come home the summer after they'd broken up. But he didn't really know much; over the years Wallace had shared less and less.


"I'm graduating, of course, and it's pretty open-ended after that," she answered. "I'm not sure what I'm doing."


"Think you might go into the FBI?"


She hesitated. "I . . . I really don't know. There's a lot of . . . factors, I guess." He nodded. He didn't know what that meant but he was sure whatever it was, she would figure it out. Uncertainty was one thing with which Veronica Mars did not allow herself to be familiar.


He opened his mouth to ask after her dad and Mac when someone shouted, "Ma! Cookies!" Veronica turned at the voice so Piz did as well. A little girl, probably about two, if Piz had to guess, was standing a few feet away holding up a package of Oreos as if it were the Holy Grail. "Cookies!" she repeated.


"You don't need cookies," Veronica told her. Piz looked back and forth between Veronica and the little girl, confusion rising in him.


"Yes cookies," the girl said.


"No cookies," Veronica replied slowly. The girl ran up to Veronica, her shoes lighting up as she went.


"Yes cookies," she insisted, holding them out to Veronica.


"If you get those then they're your one pick. You only get one special Marlie food. Is that your special food?" The little girl nodded.


"Yum cookies!"


Sharking her head softly, Veronica took the Oreos. "In five minutes when you want goldfish," she told the girl," remember this moment." The little girl didn't seem wary of the warning; she only smiled, her big blue eyes turning on Piz.


A little blonde girl with big blue eyes who begged Veronica for cookies and called her . . . Ma. The little girl had called her Ma. Veronica looked back at Piz. His shock must have shown on his face, because she sighed knowingly. "You have a kid?" he asked, unable to help being blunt. If the girl really was two then she was probably born right after Piz left, which meant Veronica must have gotten back together with Logan — was Logan the father? He had to be, didn't he?


But Piz didn't like the idea of Veronica getting back together with Logan so soon after she dumped Piz. He had known they would get back together; he had known it since that day in the cafeteria. But still. . . .


"Her name's Marlie. Marlene, actually, but we call her Marlie," Veronica told him. "Can you say Hi to Piz, Marlie?" Veronica asked the girl.


"Hi Piss," she said.


"She's been spending time with Logan, hasn't she?" Piz asked, trying to joke. Veronica made a face, picking Marlie up and balancing her on her hip. Marlie grabbed for her cookies, hugging them to her chest. "He, ah, he's the father, isn't he?"


He hoped he didn't sound too hurt. He wasn't hurt. Not really. It had been a long time since they'd dated. He'd moved on. He had dated other girls. But the idea of Veronica having a kid with Logan Echolls, of all people. . . .


"Depends on what you mean," Veronica answered. "If you call me her mom, then yes, Logan's the father." Piz wasn't sure what to make of that. Once again, Veronica seemed to read his expression. "She's not really my kid."


He was even more confused now.


"Didn't Wallace . . . he didn't tell you anything, did he?" Veronica asked. Piz shook his head.


"My mom came back the summer after freshmen year. She was pregnant. Long story short, she had a baby girl and left it with me and my dad. Piz, say hello to that baby."


"So you . . . you're raising the kid?" he asked. This was unbelievable. He had never thought Veronica even wanted any of her own kids. How much had changed in the past two years?


"Looks like it," she replied. "I had to be her legal guardian and I . . . I really didn't plan on making her mine. But . . . I just . . . I want to do this for her. Be her mom. So she never has to know . . . she deserves better than my mom, than our mom." Piz nodded slowly.  "She called Logan her dad before she called me her mom. I don't really know when I decided that I didn't just want to take care of her, I also wanted to be her mom . . . it just . . . happened."


She seemed to realize how much she was saying and she looked away, giving an awkward smile. "That's really amazing of you," he told her, "to, you know, do that. I don't think most kids our age could do it." There was a pregnant pause. "Then again, most kids our age couldn't do any of the things you do."


She smirked. "That's true, I guess." There was another brief silence. "Hey, so it was really good to see you but I should actually get going —"


"Oh, yeah, me too," he agreed.


"— It's late enough as it is and Marlie's got to get to bed before too long," she finished.


"Yeah, yeah," Piz told her. "I get it. I got to get back to Wallace and stuff." Her eyes flickered to his beer and he felt sort of embarrassed. She and Logan were raising a kid that wasn't their own and he was . . . he was buying beer for his buddies.


"Have fun," she told. "It really was good to see you."


"Ditto," he replied. She started to turn away, heading to her car. Marlie looked at him, waving goodbye. She was kind of adorable, certainly cuter than his cousin's fat newborn with the rhombus-shaped head.


"Hey Veronica!" he called out suddenly. She turned back to him with raised eyebrows. "Are you happy?" he asked. She smiled slowly.


"You know . . . I think I am," she replied. "Having a kid . . . it's not so bad." He nodded. "You?"


"I'm happy, too," he answered. She gave a soft smile.


"Good. See you around, Piznarski. Say bye-bye, Marlie. Say bye-bye to Piz."


"Bye-bye, Piss," said Marlie. And then they were gone, and Piz was left wondering how Veronica Mars could still manage to shock and amaze him.

---

Logan Echolls was a man on a mission.


"I'm here to pick up Sam Winters," he told the receptionist.


"Are you . . . a relative of his?" the young woman asked. It was clear she recognized who he was, and he was going to use that to his advantage.


"He's a friend of the family," Logan asked. "You know how that is." He was leaning against her desk, smiling warmly. She blushed. He had no idea what he was talking about, and if she did then she was a lot smarter than he thought.


"Oh, of course," she replied. "Well, ah, I'll just call him to the office, okay?" she asked, patting her blonde hair.


"Thank you so much, Sally," he said, his eyes barely making a movement as they flittered to her desk and saw the name. "And I like your necklace."


"I made it myself!"


"It looks like a piece of costume jewelry Reese Witherspoon wore in her new movie," he told her. "You wear it better, though." He winked. She nearly fainted. She didn't, though; instead, she picked up the phone and asked Mr. Albrect to send Sam to the office for early dismissal.


Sam Winters looked like an asshole.


He walked with a swagger in his step, had beady eyes and blonde hair too perfectly jelled. If Logan still went to Neptune High he would have beaten the kid to a pulp on principle. "Hi, Ms. Evans," Sam Winters greeted the secretary. "Did my parents call in to say I could leave or is someone here, because I have my BMW and —?"


"A BMW? Well, we might just have to go for a spin," Logan said. The punk kid looked over at him. He frowned.


"Are you —?" he began hesitantly.


"Let's take a walk," Logan said, grabbing the kid by the shoulder and steering him out of the office. If Ms. Evans noticed anything strange about the interaction, she didn't say a word. As soon as they were out of the school, Logan shoved the boy from his grasp.


"Okay, what's going on?" the little jackass asked. "You're Logan Echolls, right?"


"And you're Sam Winters, the boy who tried to force himself on my daughter."


The kid looked momentarily stunned. "Look, ah, I don't know what Marlie told you, but I didn't —"


"Shut-up," Logan cut him off. "I have a gun, a wife who has an unnatural obsession with tasers, and a reputation as the son of a murdering jackass. You will never go near my daughter again. You so much as look at her, say a bad word to or about her, or happen to be within fifty feet of her when anything bad happens to her — I don't care if it's a freak lightening storm — you'll still be to blame, and I'll make sure your perfect little life becomes hell."


A part of Logan expected the little pimple of a boy to make a fight, to say, "Gee, Mister, you don't scare me!" but such was not the case. The pathetic kid looked at Logan with wide, fearful eyes.


"I swear, I didn't — I won't —!"


"Shut-up," Logan repeated. Winters clamped his mouth shut.


"You want to drink, go ahead, kid. But the moment you start reaching for girls who don't want to be reached for — that's when you cross the line. Cross it again and you'll see how your pretty little self fares in Neptune prison. Or worse. Got it?"


Sam Winters nodded wordlessly.


"Have a nice day, then. And remember — I'll be watching."


When Logan left the parking lot, he smiled at the spot from which a BMW had been taken to the impound lot and turned into a nice, shiny cube by an angry but useful Mexican man. As he turned down the road, he settled his mind on his new task: he was going to spend a little quality time with one Lianne Mars.

---

A/N: This chapter was a little choppy, but I wanted to get the different POVs in. For those of you who saw what was coming concerning Sam, hats off to you. The story has almost come to an end, though there is still a little bit more important background to be revealed; I hope you're excited to see how it all comes together! Please review : ) It makes my day!