It takes eight days.
Eight days of raging, and of pain before he stops and thinks. Eight days of trying to breathe, trying to find himself again in a new house, a new city, a new him.
Eight days to realize he wasn't himself without her.
Eight days to finally acknowledge he'd been wrong, that he hadn't listened, hadn't considered her in his plans.
Despite everything, despite the distance they'd already lived through, he'd never seen how completely she'd fitted herself into the fabric of his life, the thread of his thoughts so completely. The need to hear her voice, to see those blue eyes laughing at him, to know she was his itched, under his skin and across a heart he hadn't been aware was hers completely.
He'd proposed, knowing he loved her, knowing he wanted to spend his life with her, knowing he needed her to ground him.
But it took losing her to know he'd been a blind fool.
She had her dreams. Dreams she'd worked for all her life, dreams he'd heard her talk about for three years, for a lifetime.
He'd thought, foolishly he now knew, that it was all or nothing, that she'd jump at the chance of being with him. He'd been sure she'd happily follow him, help him build the life he now wanted.
What he'd forgotten to take into consideration was that she'd never settle for anything other than a full partnership, one where they were equals in everything. From the little things, sharing the newspaper in the morning and arguments about ordering Chinese or Italian for dinner, to their dreams.
She'd never been able to accept anything less than his best, and he knew he'd short-changed her in the end.
She'd said not yet, and he'd heard no.
She'd said I need to do this, but I need you too, and he'd heard you're not enough.
Compromise.
If the alternative was a life devoid of her, compromise was a good option, he thought.
As the eight day turned to the ninth, he thumbed through his contacts and sent off a text message.
There was nothing left he could do but wait, and hope.
The campaign trail was pure murder. The pulse of it was madness, the electricity was impossible to miss. A few days into this, and a part of her was wondering what she'd done.
The other part was revelling in it, in the ebb and flow, in being a part of something so big. She was witnessing history, and she knew it.
She thought of him every minute of every day.
She didn't regret her decision, not really, but she wished there'd been a way to find a middle ground.
She missed him like a phantom limb, his absence as jarring as the life she now found herself living.
He'd have loved it. He'd have revelled in the pace, in the deadlines, in being part of this. Journalism was in his blood, and this was what he was made for.
He'd have argued with her about everything along the way, and she'd have given everything back.
At night, alone in a tiny motel room, she stared at the ceiling, thinking of a garden with an avocado tree. In a cramped bus, she looked around at the craziness of it all, and she ached. Ached because she wished things were different.
She'd been right to say no, but she'd never wanted to lose him. He was everything she shouldn't want, and yet, he was everything she needed.
Her cell phone chirped, announcing an incoming text message and she absently reached for it, wondering what insanity her mother wanted to share this time.
The sender's name didn't register. The words however, sliced through her, laser quick and just as painful.
I love you.
She stared at a number she knew better than her own, at words she'd never been able to take for granted.
Her fingers shook as she hit reply. There was so much to say, and so many ways to understand these three little words.
There was only one thing to say, one truth she couldn't deny.
Her chest tight, her heart beating wildly in time with the wheels of the bus on the pavement, she let her fingers speak the only thing she felt.
I love you too.
Slumped in a kitchen chair, Logan stared at his cell phone. It layed on the table in front of him, angled so he could see the display clearly. The familiar chirp of it made him jump, and he reached for it with hands that weren't quite steady.
I love you too.
Logan breathed out, the tightness in his chest making him realize he'd been holding his breath. He glanced at the time, and smiled when he saw it had taken her eight minutes to answer.
His fingers found the number one on his speed dial before he had time to think, and he bit back the sigh or relief when she answered before the first ring was over.
"Logan?"
"Hey Ace." There was noise in the background, a thunder of voices that he hadn't expected, but he didn't care.
"Logan." She repeated, and he smiled.
"I'm an idiot."
He didn't need to see her to know she smiled in answer. "Well, duh."
Words were crowding his throat, so many things he needed to say, so many apologies and pleas he had to make. And the hope, the hope that it wasn't too late, that he could fix this, fix them.
"Do I get a do over?" His voice was serious as he asked. If she wasn't willing to listen, willing to give him a chance to explain, he didn't know how he'd live with it. She might love him, but it didn't mean she was willing to take him back.
For once in his life, he was willing to beg, to crawl until she let him in again.
She hesitated, and Logan dug his fingers into the fabric of his jeans.
"I- Logan-"
He rushed to cut her off before she could break him again. "I know we can't go back, I know what happened, happened, but please, give me a chance here Ace."
There was a deep sadness and a weariness to her sigh that Logan didn't like. Had he done this, he thought. Had he caused her pain?
"Things haven't changed Logan."
He swallowed at the unspoken defeat in her voice. "I know, but there has to be a way to fix this, right?"
"I don't know."
"I don't want us to be over Ace, I was wrong, I should have listened when you said we could compromise."
Rory choked on a bitter chuckle. "Compromise? How can we?"
"I don't know, you'll come to Palo Alto as often as you can, I'll fly to New York, we'll meet somewhere in the middle, anything."
"I won't be in New York."
Logan frowned. "What?"
"I didn't get the fellowship."
"You didn't? I'm so sorry Ace, I know how much you wanted it."
"Thank you." The words were quiet, and Logan had to strain to hear them.
"What are you going to do?" The urge to beg her to come to him was huge, but he stamped it down. It wouldn't do to pressure her, not if he wanted a chance to convince her.
"I've got a job." She answered cautiously, and that caution unnerved him.
"That's great! What is it?" He asked.
"Hugo offered me a job. I'm on Senator Obama's campaign trail."
Logan gaped. Campaign trail?
"Campaign trail?"
"I'm sitting on a bus with a a few dozen reporters right now."
"That explains the noise." He took a breath. "It's a great opportunity Ace, I'm happy for you."
He heard the smile in her voice. "Thank you, it's incredible. Logan, I'm following what could be the first black President of the United States, can you imagine it?"
He could. He didn't need her to tell him how big this was.
"I'm proud of you Ace, I knew you could do it."
"If he wins the nomination, I could be on the road for a long time." Her voice was devoid of anything.
Time to come clean.
"Rory, I'm sorry. I screwed things up, I know, but I love you, I need you, and I hope you can forgive me. I know I've made more than my share of mistakes these last three years, hell, I'm lucky you're even talking to me. But I don't regret proposing, not at all. I'll wait as long as you need me to. Just gimme a crumb here."
"Hey! I screwed up just as much as you did!"
He wasn't convinced about that, but he wasn't about to argue. Not now, not when so much hung in the balance.
"That's not the point."
She sighed, and Logan felt his chest tighten in answer.
"Listen, we're pulling into the motel parking lot. Can I call you back once I'm in my room? I need some time to think and I'd like a little bit more privacy for this discussion."
The last thing he wanted was to hang up and give her time, but he could understand the need for privacy.
"Sure, I'll wait for you to call me back." He simply said, knowing he'd probably pace a hole in the floor while he waited.
"Thanks Logan."
"No problem Ace."
Before he had the time to add more, she'd hung up and Logan leaned back into his seat.
Rory dropped her bag beside the bed before she let herself sprawled face down on the comforter.
She couldn't quite believe the discussion she'd just had with Logan. Never in a million years was she expecting it. She might have been hoping for it, dreaming about it even, but expected it? Never.
She had to call him back. She knew she had to, but she didn't know what to say. She still loved him, she still wanted to be with him, but she wanted to do her job. More than that, she needed to do it. She'd been given a once in a lifetime experience, she was making contacts, she was living history in the making.
And Logan was in California, just starting over.
Could she risk having her heart be broken again? Could she live through another long distance relationship? Did she even want to? Could she promise him anything?
Face still smooshed into the mattress, she reached for her cell phone, and speed dialled him.
"Hey."
"Gah." She said, before she rolled over onto her back. "Sorry."
She smiled when she heard him laugh. "You're crashed down on your bed, aren't you?" He said.
"I might."
"Where are you exactly?" He asked.
Rory frowned. "I've got no clue. A tiny little motel room is the best I got."
Logan laughed again, and Rory relished the sound of it.
"Logan-"
"Ace?"
"I don't know what you want from me." She spoke softly, knowing it wasn't what he wanted to hear.
To her surprise, when he answered, it was with a smile in his voice. "I just want you to love me, to be with me."
"But-"
"I know it won't be easy, but we've done long distance before. I'll fly out to you as often as I can, and the campaign is bound to bring you to California, isn't it?"
The idea was tempting. It was really really, tempting even.
"I know we've done long distance before, but this isn't the same thing. You don't have access to a private jet this time, and I'll be moving around pretty much all the time."
"I know we can do it Ace, I know it. Please."
She was powerless against a pleading Logan. She'd always been, before he so rarely asked for anything that really mattered to him.
"I'm scared."
"I know babe, me too. But I love you, I'm more scared of losing you than to try to do this long distance again. We made it once, we can make it again." Rory was staggered by the steely certainty she heard. "Besides, I've got a lot of frequent flyer points, and I still have the trust fund."
She frowned at his words. "You need that money to live Logan, not to fly out everywhere to see me."
"I need you more than I need money Rory. And when things quiet down, when you're ready to settle somewhere, I'll be there all the way, and you can take care of the budget."
"I-"
"I won't ask you to marry me again, not yet, not until I know you're ready, but my feelings haven't changed. I still want to spend the rest of my life with you."
Tears welling up, Rory choked out. "It was never a no to marrying you Logan, it was a not yet."
"I know sweetheart, I know. I should have listened to what you were saying instead of what I thought you were telling me. I'm sorry."
How could she tell him no when it felt like cutting her own heart out?
"Okay, okay." She said.
"Rory?"
"I think we're supposed to be in Santa Monica in a few weeks." Was all she said.
"I love you." There were so many feelings in those three words, so much more than a simple declaration that Rory swallowed against the lump in her chest.
Logan cleared his throat. "So, tell me about the Senator."