A/N: Ahoy all! I'm back (again). I know I've been out of the picture a while but quite a bit of stuff was going on back there and I had to do a bit of this and that to figure out what was going on with this and that and… I'm rambling about completely pointless things! Anyway, here's another piece I thought you all might like. I'll try and hop to it and finish off "Pride and True" as well, so don't get your knickers in a knot:D Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Warner-Brothers or Paramount Pictures, nor am I lucky enough to have anything to do with the 'Gilmore Girls' television production or for that matter, Michele Alexander's screen adaptation of 'How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days'. This 'FanFic' is written entirely for the purposes of fun and any references to copyrighted material remains the property of such materials' respective owners. That doesn't entirely sound right… but you get my drift. I wrote the story, but own nothing.

Notes: This is an 'alternate reality' fic; things are mostly the same, especially histories of the characters and whatnot, the only thing I'm changing is the storyline from around the point of '5x03 – Written in the Stars' when Logan is introduced. This is kind of a meshing of ideas, but don't worry, I'll try and be as true to the 'Gilmore Girls' show as possible!

"How to Lose a Socialite in 10 Days"

I – Writing for Marie Claire

Rory Gilmore sat behind her quaint little desk in the offices of the 'Yale Daily News'. This was the kind of place that had only once existed in her dreams. Finally, she thought, her successes had paid off. All her hard work throughout high school and now, to some extent, university, she was being recognized as worthy enough to present 'the people' with their daily dose of journalism in tabloid form.

She smiled drumming a pen between her thumb and forefinger; watching mindlessly as it see-sawed back and forth, back and forth, back a-

"GILMORE!"

Rory flinched awkwardly at their call of her family name, tossing her pen high in the air. The tubular writing piece somersaulted gracefully upward and then down toward the ground in the same manner, clocking Doyle, the Yale Daily News' editor, firmly upon the head.

Doyle grimaced as the pen connected with the crown of his head, "Gilmore… see at a REAL newspaper we don't have time for gam-"

"I didn't do that on purpose!" Rory recoiled, fearing a lecture from Doyle more than anything.

Doyle rubbed his skull, "I don't care what you were doing just get back to work!" he screamed, drawing the attention of some of the other members of the newspaper.

"I'm real- really sorry," Rory stammered, "I was just-"

Doyle raised a clamped hand to his face, "ooo she was just fooling around Doyle," he mocked, using his hand as a false puppet.

"No, I was just thinking of a way to make this review more- more palatable," Rory lied, rocking forward slightly to cover up her lack of work.

"Oh Mr. Hand!" Doyle giggled imprudently, "she's just cleaning up her work".

Rory pursed her lips, wishing someone would gain Doyle's attention.

"Noooo!" Doyle's hand continued in an annoying, whiney voice, "she was clearly fooling about… haven't you seen her last piece of work… boy was THAT pathetic".

Rory considered accidentally tossing another pen in the air, except, instead of a pen, she felt a stapler or some equally metallic office item would be more suitable.

"Oh come now, Mr. Hand," Doyle continued, "let's give her one more chance".

"One more chance?" Rory murmured, hesitantly.

"That's right, Gilmore," Doyle smiled, dagger's in his voice, "your last excuse for work caused a backlash in sales".

"Doyle!" Rory shot angrily, "this newspaper is FREE!"

"Oh I know that," he retorted, "will you stop telling me things I already know?"

"What are you talking about?" Rory snapped, narrowing her eyes.

"Mr. Hand, we don't like being spoken to that way, do we?" Doyle questioned his hand, pouting his lips all the while.

Rory wondered just how hard her pen had impacted upon Doyle's head.

"No we certainly do not!" Doyle's hand replied happily.

"Why have I got one more chance, Doyle?" Rory pushed, hoping some sanity remained within his head.

"Frankly Gilmore," Doyle began, "the Yale Daily News has kind of… hit a slump, so to speak".

Rory sighed and sat back, preparing herself for a long winded Doyle-lecture.

"We've hit a slump and we need something fresh to help us… break into a new, wider audience," Doyle continued, raising his hand to his chin, "now, as ingenious as I am," Rory rolled her eyes and folded her arms, "I have decided to cut your review section and substitute it with a more… palatable –as you put so well–" he gestured to Rory, "and entertaining piece of writing".

Rory gazed dejectedly up at Doyle, "I'm 'fired'?"

"No," Doyle answered, smiling evilly, "but you will be if you don't get this next assignment right".

She glared at him for a moment, before accepting her fate, "what do I have to do?"

"I want you to write an article- no, an expose!"

Rory's demeanor perked up. Perhaps this was a move for the better. Her days reviewing the same generic performances from the Drama Club were ones she had decided would not be spoken of, once she had established herself as a well-respected journalist.

"I want you to write an expose on human social interaction – the kind of interaction between a guy and a girl from the start to the end, of a relationship!" Doyle spieled, "your angle will be … ummm, you'll meet this guy, coax him into a relationship and then- then-"

Rory stared blankly, "then what?"

"Then you'll try and lose him! The catch is you can't dump him. He's got to dump you," Doyle concluded, wide-eyed and proud.

"You want me to find a guy, partner with him and then- then get him to dump me?" Rory spluttered.

"It's so brilliant; I can't believe I didn't think of it before!" Doyle shouted, raising his hands in the air and shaking his head, "God I'm good!"

Rory was entirely opposed to the idea. Deceit was something she was not fond of, even if it meant keeping her position, "Doyle this is nuts".

"It might be!" Doyle smiled, "but if you don't do it, then you can pack up and leave Gilmore, I don't care!"

Rory shook her head, "Doyle this is- it's so-" she scanned her brain for a convincing argument, "it's so… Cosmo," she could not believe that she was now entrusting the future of her possible career to a magazine.

"Cosmo-" Doyle snapped, "is exactly the approach we want from this piece. It's got to be in-your-face and trendy while still remaining a 'social experiment' and credible".

"Doyle, surely- there must be something else I can cover- I'll- I'll do the Religion beat! I can go to all the meetings and- and uncover the secrets of- of-" her voice trailed.

"How very Joan Lunden of you…"

Rory smiled in fake-sincerity.

"Clean your desk out Gilmore," Doyle chided, turning and walking away.

"Wait!" Rory squealed, jumping up from her desk, "I'll do it! I'll do it!"

Doyle turned and smiled evilly again, "I knew you'd come around!" he clapped his hands together, "now hop to it… you have ten days to have that article on my desk".

"Ten DAYS!" Rory shouted, "I can't do what you're asking for in TEN DAYS!" she debated, knowing that she was going to have more trouble completing the task as opposed to racing the clock too, which would serve to only worsen the scenario.

"You're right," Doyle replied. Rory slumped, feeling the pressure ease slightly, "make it FIVE DAYS!"

"Nooo!" Rory spat, eyes widening, "ten it is Doyle, TEN".

Doyle smiled and nodded mockingly, "ten it is," and turned away from Rory, to abuse another member of the paper, "you call THIS black ink…" he screamed.

Rory sank back into her chair, resting her arms on the chair's arms.

"Mussolini's got you cornered," a familiar voice floated.

"I'm aware of the situation Paris," Rory recoiled, gathering her notebooks from her desk.

Paris Gellar, the girl of a short-stature that had befriended Rory in high-school sat behind her own desk at the Yale Daily News. Their 'friendship' was odd; founded on a dependability to be indifferent and at the same time, strengthened by a powerful bond.

"He's so self-righteous, so violently smothered with his position… I'd be pretty smug too if I were 'editor'," Paris smoldered.

"Don't get too bent out of shape," Rory replied quietly, packing her bag, "I'm going to need your help with this".

"You've got to be joking," Paris giggled-wickedly, "sorry Gilmore, you're on your own with this one".

"Oh come on Paris!" Rory pleaded, "I don't even know how I'm going to start this!"

"Alright!" Paris soothed, "we'll figure something out when we get home tonight- ugh!" she paused, focusing her attention on a small boy, "here comes our beloved Dictator," she nodded to Doyle, who was advancing toward the pair.

"I'm getting right to it Doyle," Rory whined, shoving the last of her books into her book-bag.

"Just hurry up Gilmore, the clock's ticking- besides I came here to see Paris," he urged, waving with disregard at Rory, "Paris, I was wondering…"

Rory rolled her eyes and strode off; she could not longer bare to hear Doyle, let alone be in the same room with him. She headed for the door and away from the bustling whirlwind of the Yale Daily News offices. She grasped the doorknob and pushed outward to hear a sickening thud and a fit of cursing.

She rushed out the door and gazed at a recognizable young boy clutching his forehead, "Oh my God!" she mumbled, dropping her bag and moving closer, "I'm- I-"

"You're sorry, right?" the boy muttered, rubbing his aching head.

"I'm really very sorry!" Rory spluttered.

The boy sat on a bench and hunched over, a dreadfully pained sound was droning from him.

"I- look I'm really sorry… can I get you some-"

Then there was laughing. Lots of laughing.

"Geez Ace…" the boy rose to his feet, smiling, "your Master and Commander got you again… with the ol' slappin' the door trick. You're easier than I thought!"

Rory went a shade of crimson that would have made Harvard proud.

A small group of boys emerged from various, well-selected positions, each laughing and slapping each other on the back.

"Gentlemen, I believe it's time we hit lunch," the boy who had called her 'Ace' joked, causing the group of boys to reach near-hysterics.

Rory knelt down and gathered up her bag, still very much shocked by the prank.

The group of raucous boys made their way down the hall, fortunately in the opposite direction Rory needed to go.

As she began to slowly shake off the embarrassment of the moment, an idea floated her way. She spun around, facing the group once more, to see the one particular boy glancing back at her.

"Master and Commander," she murmured, "you have just met the match of your dreams".

A/N: Right, so what does everyone think? Does this one deliver the goods? Let me know what you think and I'll try and get another chapter up tomorrow :) Cheers all!