AN: Wow. Gilmore Girls fanfiction is so overdue like you would not believe. I have been in love with Lorelai and Rory for much longer than anything else I write fics for. I'm home sick (still. bleh) so I actually have some time to crank out this little idea I've had for a while. EDIT:fixed the Mulan thing. Didn't quite get my point across.

post series finale, Rory-centric. RoryxLogan implied. oneshot.

Disclaimer: The Gilmores are too cool to be owned, they shalt be owned by no man! Well, actually, they are. Just not by me.

What Love Isn't

Rory smiled down at the grayish lines and tiny white dots that were in all actuality massive highways and streams of automobiles. It never ceased to amaze her how tiny even the largest lake seemed from so high up. Sometimes it was enough to entertain her for the entirety of the flight. She leaned back, away from the window and settled down into her seat. She was traveling across the country as part of her coverage of Obama's campaign trail and consequently falling victim to mid-flight boredom.

The irony suddenly hit her of the whole situation. Prior to applying for college she had considered writing about Hilary Clinton for her application essay. Now here she was as a journalist, covering the campaign of one of Clinton's opponents. She giggled to herself, but stopped quickly. Another journalist, the mean redhead from that other online newspaper with the really, really long name, was staring at her. "Just a…weird shaped lake…I thought it was funny…"

The redhead raised one of her heavily penciled eyebrows but then turned back to typing on her laptop; her blue and orange polka dotted laptop. Rory smiled again. The laptop was really quite ugly. She could just hear Emily's comment on it. "Why on earth would anyone want to have anything, especially something used for their profession, in such gaudy colors? Why, Lorelai, Rory, even you two wouldn't sink to such depths. Polka dots could be cute, perhaps, but in those colors? Goodness. That girl must be an excellent writer, because she sure didn't get hired on the basis of her style. But anyone could see that from her choice of wardrobe. Honestly, with that hair color, which would be gorgeous did she know how to style it, she should know that she can't wear-"

Rory promptly ended her train of thought. When she began imagining her grandmother's response to her co-journalists' choices in wardrobe and laptop colors, she knew she was getting bored. She looked around at the other journalists to see what they were doing to entertain themselves. Most were on their laptops, but Rory was finished with her most recent article, and without internet, there really wasn't anything else to do. Some were asleep, but Rory wasn't tired. She sighed. She had already exhausted everything else she had brought to do.

There was a phone in the back of the seat.

Rory suddenly found it humorous. A phone; built into the back of a chair. Rory started giggling again. The redhead sent another glare her way, and Rory stopped. I bet Mom would have found it funny. Logan might have too. Rory shook her head. No thinking about Logan.

Her gaze fell again on the phone. She didn't know what possessed her to do it, but before she knew it, she had picked up the phone, punched in her credit card number, and had dialed Logan's number.

It seemed insane, but she felt like it was something she needed to do.

"Hey, this is Logan. Unfortunately I can't answer right now, but, hey, leave a message at the beep and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. BEEP."

Rory sucked in air. What was she thinking? She took a deep breath. How many times had she imagined this conversation? (Well, one-sided conversation, but still.) "Hey, Logan, it's Rory."

"Shhh!" Rory glared back at the redhead before continuing.

"I'm calling because…well, I don't know why I'm calling. Maybe I'm bored, maybe I just miss telling you things…I don't know." Rory laughed at her own incompetence. "I'm calling from 30,000 feet, or how ever high up it is when you're in an airplane, and no, it isn't because I joined the Mile High club. I…got a job. I'm writing for an online newspaper following the campaign trail of Barrack Obama." Aw, Ace, that's great! Rory shook her head. Now she was imagining Logan's response! Must be cabin fever. Was it possible to get cabin fever without actually being in a cabin? "I'm not calling because I want to get back together, or because I've changed my mind and I want to get married, because I don't. I've since decided that we definitely shouldn't get married." She turned her gaze out the window again.

"You shouldn't get to do this." Rory glared at the bustling cities, reduced to such tiny specks from her altitude. "You shouldn't get to decide that we can't even stay friends. You shouldn't get to say goodbye like this." Whoa, whoa, Rory! What are you talkin' about, Ace? You've told me goodbye before! Rory shook her head at imaginary-Logan-voice. "No. I think…I think I really did love you. And I've loved very few guys in my life Logan, and I think you're one of them." Aw, Ace, you do care. Shut up, imaginary-Logan-voice.

"Can you please talk a little bit quieter, Miss Gilmore?" Rory turned her eyes from the window to the redhead sitting across the aisle from her. "Some people are trying to work." Rory frowned.

"Sorry!" she hissed, and then, back into the phone, "I wasn't talking to you, Logan." Got it, Rory. "Look, Logan…You proposed. You asked me to marry you. You asked me to spend the rest of my life with you…And, that doesn't sound like such a bad idea. But…Logan." Rory narrowed her eyes. Were the windows fogging? The view of the ground was suddenly much blurrier. Then Rory realized she was starting to cry. She sniffed. "Marrying me…means that you love me. And if you love me, you shouldn't have been okay with saying goodbye."

Rory wiped at her eyes. Several of the other journalists already looked down on her because of her youth, and the last thing she needed was a breakdown for them to hold over her head. Rory took a deep breath. She needed her voice to be strong to say the words she'd needed to say since they broke up. "If you loved me enough to marry me, then you should have loved me enough to not be okay with letting me go." She took another deep breath. "I don't think that's love, Logan. Love is…love is…" She sniffled and glared at the shrunken highways. "Well, I don't know how to describe what love is. Maybe I don't know what love really is." She smiled ruefully out the window. She wasn't the Disney Princess that got the handsome prince. She wasn't the girl who needed a man to be a success. But her favorite Disney character had never been a princess anyway. She'd always preferred the single heroines. Like Mulan; someone who cared about more in life than just getting a guy.

"But Logan, I know what love isn't."

And she hung up, feeling the better for it.

fini

AN: Hope y'all enjoyed it. Short, I know; but it really couldn't be longer. In other news, Windows Vista scares me.

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