He hated that Meg was working with them. She reminded him too much of Veronica, during that transitory period between Angelic Veronica and Hard-Ass Veronica when she was no longer the sweet, quiet girl everyone liked but not the hardened outsider yet. It was the long blond hair that really did it, so much like Veronica's, though he doubted Meg would shear her long locks the way Veronica did. She hadn't changed that much and she wasn't Veronica, as much as she recalled images and memories of her. And that was a good thing. He would begin to resent Meg if she became too much like Veronica, possibly even get them mixed up, Veronica's specter melding with Meg's living, breathing self. And that would not be good, not at all. He had to keep them separate in his mind, for all of their sanity and for the sake of avenging Veronica. In order to do this, he avoided Meg as much as possible, preferring to relay information and the like to through Wallace. He knew Wallace understood and possibly even envied him for having found a way to the two separate, each her own person, but even the most patient of people snapped, especially when that patience was tempered by grief.

"Logan, man, you gotta stop this. If we're gonna track down Veronica's killer, we need to work together. All of us," he added, when Logan opened his mouth to retort. Then his face softened and he said, "She reminds me of Veronica, too. But she's not Veronica and she isn't trying to be. You gotta get over this. It's hard, but what did you expect? Just deal with it. We owe Veronica at least this much."

"You done?" Logan asked, a bored expression coloring his face.

"Yeah," Wallace answered shortly with a slight shake of his head. "I'm done."

"Good. I was starting wonder whether I should slap you or just order pizza and wait it out."

Wallace tensed, but he said nothing, just waited for Logan to explain what he had found. He had been doing this a lot, restraining himself from punching the smug 09'er in the mouth. He had taken Veronica's death hard, perhaps harder than most people, himself included. Wallace figured that Veronica's death was just the last tragedy, the one that caused him to fully retreat inside himself and hide behind this insolent, sarcastic façade. And lucky him, he was the one who spent the most time around Logan and therefore bore the brunt of his disguised anger. At first he resented Logan for being able to hide from his pain but now, by dealing with Logan's head-in-ass attitude and searching for clues that would help bring his best friend's murderer to justice, he had found a similar sort of stasis, staving off the pain and tears by doing everything within his power to not think about Veronica, except when it was absolutely necessary to the investigation.

Logan smirked. "You shouldn't frown like that, Wally. You'll get wrinkles."

"Just get on with it, Echolls," Wallace snapped. Then again, sometimes you could only stand so much Logan Echolls without getting angry.

"I am, Wally boy. Just cool it, all right?" Logan waited for a second and when Wallace said nothing, cooed, "Good boy. Now, when I saw biker boy get off the bus this morning looking like an Outsiders extra, I figured something went down with the PCHers. After some expert finagling, I got good ol' Paco to spill it. Turns out the whole gang is mixed up with the Fitzpatricks and Thumper's their new leader. Call me crazy, but I think it's too much of a coincidence that Weevil's right hand is murdered only a few months before Weevil gets ousted from the gang. Don't you agree?" It took all of Logan's self-control to keep his face blank as he mentioned the Fitzpatricks and Felix's murder. In Logan's mind, if Veronica hadn't been secretly helping him prove his innocence, she would have never been near that cliff and wouldn't have died.

"This better be good, Logan. You're ruining my lunch, you know."

Logan shot her a look and, with a roll of her eyes and a muttered "drama queen," she quieted down.

"Weevil and I have been working together to find out who killed really Felix and we think his boys are mixed up with the Fighting Fitzpatricks. You heard of them?"

Veronica nodded slowly. "Yeah, my dad put, like, five of them in Chino…" Her eyes widened and her mouth curled up at the corners. "I've gotta run. Light bulb moment." She turned and almost sprinted out the door, turning back only to call, "I'll fill you in later."

Logan watched her go. "Yeah, see you then," he said softly to her retreating back. A chill ran through his spine and he stood upright, casting a wary glance around the small bathroom. Satisfied he wasn't about to be jumped by someone like an angry PCHer, he wrote it off as a shiver and strode boldly out of the bathroom, smirking at the stunned girls about to enter. One thing was certain: he couldn't wait until Veronica told him what she had figured out.

Four hours later, he turned on news only to discover that his world had come to a screeching halt for a third time.

The sound of Wallace's voice brought Logan back down to earth. "Yeah, let's get Meg and check it out."

"Not so fast, Sherlock. I don't think taking Meg with us is a good idea."

Wallace clenched his fist. "Do I have to give you my spectacular 'get over it' speech again? Because I really don't feel like it."

"Aw, and it was so much fun the first time around! Think about it, Wally. We can't bring Meg with us because she's a pretty little girl, these guys are hardened criminals and I, for one, have had more than enough funerals for one lifetime."

Wallace sighed. "Stop calling me Wally. And you're right, something I'm sure you're unaccustomed to."

Logan shook his own hand in midair, as if it was on fire. "Ouch, burn. Score one for Wally. Oh wait, that's right, we're not in fourth grade anymore."

"Hey, Logan, how 'bout you just shut up for once in your life?"

Logan put of a confused look. "But what fun would that be?"

"You know what? I'll see you after school." Wallace turned and walked away before he did something stupid, like punching Logan in front of his 09er buddies. And Meg. She would kill them if she heard they were fighting. He wouldn't allow himself to swell on how Veronica-esque that was. Instead, he made a mental note to ask Meg to look of Veronica's files on the Fitzpatricks once that had some new information. She would be plenty angry that they left her behind for this, so he had make sure he had an assignment ready for her. That and he just didn't want to look at those files again. Although, the end result would probably be he and Logan doing the grunt work, searching through the files once again, while Meg sat back and watched Gilmore Girls.

Twenty minutes later, Logan's comment about "more than enough funerals" was still bouncing around in his head. It triggered memories he had tried hard to forget, but were now coming forth entirely unbidden.

"Wallace," his mom said.

He barely glanced up from his homework. "Hold on a sec, Moms."

"Wallace," his mom repeated, more urgently this time.

He finally looked and felt his stomach sink at the look on her face. He couldn't bring himself to ask what she wanted. His mouth had dried out and his tongue wasn't cooperating.

"You better come out here. There's something on the news you should see."

He forced the question out. "What happened? Mom, tell me what's wrong."

Alicia crossed the room and sat beside her son. "Wallace, its Veronica. She-she died this afternoon."

"No, you're lying. Why would you say something like that, Mom?" Wallace got to his feet. "It's probably just some other blonde girl from school. It can't be Veronica. I just saw her a few hours ago. She's supposed to call me in half an hour."

Wallace turned slowly walked out into the living room, regretting each step along the way. He had to see for himself, prove to his mother that she was wrong. He knew, even if he wouldn't admit it, that whatever he would see when he reached the living room would change his life and that he would want nothing more than to go back to how it was. But, of course, he soon stood in the living room. His mother led him to the couch and told him to sit.

"No, Mom. It can't be that bad. She's not dead."

Her eyes told him that it clearly was, but he stubbornly refused to sit. A woman reporter filled the screen. "Now, if you're just tuning in, we recently learned the identity the Neptune High student that died when her car went over a cliff earlier this afternoon."

It's just some random student, Wallace told himself. But when that black and white yearbook photo appeared on screen, it told him the truth, the truth Wallace had known all along. Veronica was dead. The reporter went on to detail Veronica's connection to various Neptune VIPs but Wallace heard none of it. He dropped onto the couch next to his mother, hung his head and watched as a solitary tear leaked out of his eyes, trembled on the tip of his nose, and fell onto his fist with an inaudible splat.

After several minutes of silence, Wallace turned to his mother, his eyes rimmed red. "I need to go to her house. Could you drive me there? I-I don't think I can." His mother look as if she was about to say something, but thought otherwise and nodded.

Shortly after, Wallace stood outside Veronica's apartment. It would always be her apartment to him, even now. He couldn't summon the courage to knock. He knew that whatever he felt, it was magnified beyond numbers in Keith. As it turned out, he didn't have to knock. Keith had apparently been watching for him. He opened the door and after a short, awkward moment, pulled the teen into a tight embrace. And that when both finally allowed themselves to break down, right there for all the world to see.

-x-

Wallace watched without interest as various people spoke about Veronica, how great she was, how everyone loved her. That was all a load of crap. Sure, if anyone had bothered to get to know her they would have loved her just as he did, but they didn't get to know her. They didn't know her, but they still gossiped about her and made her the butt of dozens of dumb jokes and turned their noses up at her. Wallace would give anything to get up there and tell the world about the real Veronica Mars. He would love to tell them how they first met, with her cutting him down off the flagpole, or how they bonded, over planting bongs and setting the Sheriff's office on fire. But he couldn't. Not only because that would be as good as handing the Sheriff a signed confession, but also because Veronica deserved better. She wouldn't care enough about these people who obviously didn't know her to justify herself to them. And he wouldn't do it, either. Logan, on the other hand, didn't agree. Wallace watched with a grim fascination as the other boy calmly walked up to the altar, dark sunglasses propped in front of his eyes, and began speaking.

"What can you say about Veronica Mars? First off, all the stuff about her being loved by everyone is crap. Most of the people in this town hated her and she gave it right back to them. But despite that, when I think about Veronica Mars, one sentence comes to mind: to know her – really know her – is to love her. I can't think of a single person that bothered to get to know Veronica who didn't end up loving her. And in return, she would be the most loyal friend you could possibly imagine. God knows she's helped me out more than once. So when you walk out of here today, mourn for her, grieve for her, because losing her is the worst thing to ever happen to this town, but don't think you knew her. Because you didn't." Logan looked around, a shadow of his trademark smirk upon his lips as he listened to the growing buzz inside the church. "Thank you."

He turned and walked down the aisle. As he approached, Keith stood up, looked Logan in the eyes, and embraced him. And as they did, Wallace saw a single tear make its way down Logan's cheek and he smiled, noticing how strange it felt to be doing so. Logan, the public hatred of whom had reached an all-time high after Felix's murder, had done what Wallace could not: given Neptune a glimpse of the real Veronica Mars.

"Wallace," someone hissed.

His head whipped up.

"Wallace," the person repeated.

He glanced around. His gaze landed on Meg.

"Are you all right?" she asked, her concern evident.

He nodded vigorously, trying to convince himself that he was, in fact, all right. But the truth was he just didn't know anymore.