So I started rewatching gilmore girls a few months ago and quickly remembered why I loved this show so much, Rory and Logan especially. Aaaand then I got to the end. That devastating, heartbreaking end. I refuse to accept that these two don't end up together, so here we are. Starting up seven years after the finale, this is essentially what I'm hoping for in the Netfliz revival, wishful thinking, but that's what fanfiction is for after all.
The call comes on a Tuesday morning. Her mother's voice is wobbly, like she's trying to hold it together but ultimately failing. "It's your grandpa," she says, and Rory knows. It's a perfectly nice day, blue sky, not a cloud to be seen; if her life was a movie it would be raining.
)()()(
She calls the office, packs her bags, and is back in Hartford in record time. Lorelai's car is already parked in the driveway when she pulls up. She's barely out of the car when Lorelai is opening the front door and ambushing her daughter with a tight hug, Rory returns it just as fiercely. When they pull back she studies her mother's face. Her eyes are red and puffy but it doesn't look like she was just crying; hair in a haphazard ponytail and dressed in her usual laundry day outfit it's obvious how rushed she must have been. She knows from their earlier phone call that Emily had called her around seven, when Richard still hadn't gotten out of bed and she'd gone up to check on him, only to find the thing she feared the most. It was a heart attack that did him in, despite all the precautions and surgeries, it still happened. The truth of the matter is that she still hasn't been able to fully process the situation, her world without Richard Gilmore? Impossible, completely nonsensical.
"How are you doing?" Rory asks finally, she feels like she's been standing in this driveway for ages.
Lorelai shrugs, her hands clench and relax like she doesn't know what to do with them. "I don't really know, kid," she answers honestly, her voice rough.
Rory nods. "Me too. How's grandma?"
Her mom's lips quirk in a sad smile. "She's Emily Gilmore. In between cursing him for going first even when they'd clearly had an agreement, she's barking orders and firing maids, making plans to sue doctors, the usual."
"Poor grandma."
Lorelai nods and wraps an arm around Rory's shoulder, leading them back towards the door. "Yeah, poor grandma."
)()()(
The rest of week is spent helping with the funeral and memorial arrangements, Rory's DAR skills making a much needed appearance as her grandmother's ability to take charge dwindles in the wake of her grief. Her mom does her best to keep Emily going, Sookie stops by more than once bearing food and to have Emily sign off of the menu for the wake, which seems to break her out of her mourning for at least a little bit. They stay at Emily's house, Luke bringing them things they need from Stars Hollow and stopping by as much as possible to check on them.
The wake starts late Saturday afternoon, it's held at the Gilmore manor which is decorated tastefully of course with a large picture of Richard standing in the living room as the focal point; they'd opted out of having the actual body present during the affair. They stay mainly in the living room as people filter in and out in a blur to offer their condolences, friends of her grandparents offer lighthearted anecdotes and waiters keep the drinks coming.
Rory excuses herself eventually and slips out the back door to the patio surrounding the pool. Irrationally, she finds herself wondering if anybody ever even used the pool, she certainly hasn't, maybe her mom did when she was young, but the idea of her grandparents in bathing suits is laughable at best. She wonders though if maybe her grandfather had enjoyed the water and she just hadn't known it. She's moving before she even registers it, heels kicked off she takes a seat at the edge of the pool and dips her feet in. The water's chilly; it's late September now, the nights getting cooler as they venture further into fall. She ignores the chill, lazily kicking her feet and watching the ripples reflect onto the trees above. It's calm, peaceful even, the exact opposite of how she feels.
The relationship she shared with her grandpa was a complicated one, there's no way around it. For the first half of her life she'd hardly known the man, only visiting on the holidays. With the instatement of Friday night dinners she'd been able to grow closer the man, she'd grown to love him, bonded over a love of literature, Yale, and the occasional trip to the country club. They'd had rough patches, but never once had she wished the man out of her life. The fact that he isn't in it anymore makes her head spin and heart physically ache.
Taking a deep breath she closes her eyes, feet making small waves in the cold water she allows herself to take comfort in the solitude she's found here.
Moments later she hears the door open and close, figuring it's her mom come to wrangle her back into the grief stricken house she makes no move from her spot. Only the voice that calls out to her is decidedly not her mother's. She's not entirely surprised that he's here, her grandfather was friends with his parents after all, or rather they'd kept up the appearances of being friendly, but it still feels like a shock to her system.
"Hey, Ace," he's quiet, like he knows that any louder it would shatter her sanctuary. Maybe he does, after all, for a long time there was no one who knew her better.
She doesn't turn to face him, not quite sure if she can after all these years, afraid of what feelings might be dredged up from where they were neatly and meticulously tucked away. He sits down next to her anyway, feet bare and pants rolled up to the knees he joins her, hissing lightly when he dips into the water.
"You're going to wrinkle your pants," is the first thing she blurts out once her brain comes back on board. She could kick herself. All this time apart and that's the first thing she says to him?
She hears him let out a small laugh and looks at him now, she can't not.
Logan looks great, of course he does. Older, but no worse for wear, and with a better haircut for sure. He looks exactly how she remembers and something inside of her aches.
The corner of his mouth quirks in that smirk that used to drive her crazy in the best way. "I could care less about the pants. How are you holding up?" His eyes are so warm, concern clear across his face, tone sincere. It's been seven years and she feels like nothing's changed.
In the back of her mind she knows it has. She knows how they parted wasn't necessarily on the best of terms, that's there's a lot of pain and mistakes between them, and if they'd run into each other under other circumstances their reunion would take a totally different direction, but right now she lets herself have this, even if it's just for a moment.
"I don't really know," she admits slowly. "It doesn't even feel real."
He shakes his head. "I'm so sorry; I know that doesn't make anything better and you're probably sick of hearing it, but I am."
She just looks at him for a moment, takes it all in, everything she's feeling, everything that's happened, and she makes up her mind. "Will you do something with me?"
"Absolutely," he resolves without pause.
"You don't even know what I was going to ask," she counters.
"Never stopped me before."
Briefly she wonders if he's still the same impulsive Logan she knew, or if growing up and running his own company squandered that part of him and he's only humoring her because she's hurting. But then, she decides, what does it matter? She's allowed to have this if he's willing to give it her, and besides, it's not like she's planning to steal a yacht again.
"Alright, come on, Huntzberger." She pulls her slightly numb feet out of the water and pushes herself up, Logan following suit. There are towels just inside the pool house and she grabs one for each of them so they can dry off before righting themselves. She leads them into the house through one of the escape routes her mom taught her so they can avoid all the mourning aristocrats. The hallway is clear and they're able to duck into the study without being seen.
"So what's the plan, Ace?" Logan asks as he shuts the door behind them.
She ignores the warmth that ignites in her chest at the familiar nickname, she figures the use of it doesn't mean anything anyway, he's just used to it. Three years they were together and she can probably count how many times he used her actual name on one hand. Instead, she pulls open the middle desk drawer and grabs the humidor stashed there. Logan raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment.
"Pour us both a glass, would you?" she asks, nodding towards the decanter filled with her grandfather's preferred scotch.
"Alright," he says, the look on his face says he's confused but he goes with it anyway.
"We're going to celebrate his life the right way," Rory says as an explanation. "I can't sit in that room any longer, so we're going to smoke his cigars, drink his scotch, and we're not going to be miserable," she says definitively.
Logan grins and sets the glasses down on the desk in front of her. "Yes ma'am."
"Now," she says, holding a cigar in one hand and an elaborate looking lighter in the other. "I have no idea how to do this."
He laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners and reaches for the items. "I'll take care of it."
He does.
)()()(
"Okay," Rory laughs, scotch making her feel better than she has in longer than she can remember right now. "But the time he came to school and started talking to you about wedding plans I thought you were going to pass out!" She laughs again and takes a puff of her cigar, the taste is terrible but she appreciates the sentiment enough. Even in her drunken haze she's competent enough to wonder if the mention of weddings will ruin this comfortable bubble they've made. Luckily that doesn't seem to be the case.
Logan shakes his head vigorously. "That was just plain mean, Gilmore. I thought I was having a heart attack. Finn was a moment away from having to resuscitate me."
Rory smiles fondly from her perch on the edge off the desk, bare feet swinging back and forth. "Grandpa was so proud of himself, he bragged about that for weeks." She traces the rim of her glass with the tip of her finger as she reminisces about the time spent with him.
Logan sits on the chair below her and places a hand lightly on her knee. It's comforting, the weight of his hand grounding her.
"He was a cool guy," he agrees quietly. He lifts up his mostly empty glass, "To Richard," he toasts.
Rory nods and lifts her glass as well. "To Richard," she repeats and clinks her glass against his.
Lorelai walks in as they're taking a drink.
"Boy does this bring back memories," she says, surprise evident in both her voice and expression as she takes in the scene in front of her. "Well, at least you're fully dressed this time."
"Lorelai," Logan greets. He sets down the tumbler and cigar and stands up, buttoning his suit jacket as he does so. Rory stands as well and shoves her feet back into her shoes. "I'm so sorry for your loss," he adds.
Lorelai nods, "Thank you, Logan." She turns to Rory then with a rather obvious look of incredulity on her face. "Come on, Rory, you've been gone long enough that grandma finally realized you were missing."
"Right, I'll be right out," she says and hopes that her mom will allow her and Logan one last moment together.
The look Lorelai gives her promises a thorough interrogation in her future, but she ducks out of the room nonetheless.
Once the door shuts she turns to Logan who looks as awkward as she suddenly feels.
"Logan," she starts and he looks up from where he'd been gazing at his feet to meet her eyes. "Just- Thank you," she finally settles on. "for everything."
"You're welcome, but you really don't have to thank me."
It's so reminiscent of when her grandfather had been in the hospital and Logan had been incredibly attentive, that she feels her breath catch for a moment, emotions rushing forth, emotions that shouldn't even exist after all this time apart. She has the overwhelming urge to hug him, but feels like that would be crossing the line, so she abstains. She can't help but wonder though what it would be like if she gave in to such a simple pleasure. Does he still hug as tightly, does he still feel as safe as she remembers? It's a slippery slope, one she can't afford to tumble down, so she banishes the thought.
"I should probably clean this up," she says, looking at the empty glasses and ash tray.
Logan shakes his head. "Nah, I've got this. You go be with your family."
She deliberates for a minute before nodding and leaves before she has the time to do something she'll regret when she's less emotionally compromised.
"You have so much explaining to do," Lorelai says out of the corner of her mouth when Rory joins her on the couch.
And there we have it, the ending to the beginning of my newest fic. I've been working on this for awhile, and i have quite a bit written already, but I've been a little stuck lately and i could really use some feedback to get me going again. So please leave a comment and let me know how you enjoyed it :)