Tell Me Not To Go

by Jasmin Kaiba


You're living in a shell; you tell yourself when you finally have the guts to call the one person who'll listen without wanting to choose sides. She loves you just as much as she loves him, and she's judging the given information, not the person telling it. She knows how it went, but the details were lost and she was glad to finally be able to tell that she can relate to the sentiments, his or yours.

She tells that she understands your fears and your motives, but she understands him just as much, she's not telling you that you made a mistake or that what he did was wrong, she's letting you judge yourself, and you needed that. From your friends you got the 'I'm sorry's, He's a jerks, how can he make you chooses', from the friends you shared but who belonged entirely to him you got 'I'm trying to get what you were thinking's, He was willing to give everything up and you threw it in his faces', Finn was the one who shrugged and told you, "I love you, doll, I love Huntz just as much, I won't say anything, I could kill him right now, but then again I could shoot your pretty ass to the moon and back in a second, it's your and his misunderstanding, his and your mistake, not my place to judge, I'm an outsider just like everyone else. You do what you think right, and he does the same. Your lives, love, not mine."

You have listened to them all and left the world where everything began and everything ended, fully believing that Logan Huntzberger just wasn't meant to be your future. You found yourself on a bus touring the states, following Obama and writing for him and about him. You made new friends, you dated new guys, you kept in touch with family and your friends, yours not his, not even Finn. Along your way you found some people again, Tristan, Jess, Marty, and lost them again, you took a trip to the past with them, and each and every had a path that leads back to Logan. Tristan was one of his 'friends', and spoke of the Huntzberger heir sometimes, without being aware of your connection to the said man, Jess brought back memories of fights and I love you's, and Marty gave back the feeling you had that night when Logan climbed through you window and claimed your heart and soul entirely along with your body that gave so willingly to him.

Two years of following Obama around the USA gave you something you always craved, your freedom, but the wish to settle down and live a life of routine without having to sleep in a bus or cheap motels, outweighed the wish to follow him for the next two to three years of your life. Your way led you to a city that never sleeps, to a city that is so much you like San Francisco seems to be Logan, New York. One phone call with Paris as you have finally made a comfortable living in a penthouse overlooking Central Park and writing for the New York Post, gave you that idea. Paris said something about always knowing you'll end up in New York, it's close to your beloved family and friends, it has all you need, and you're just like the New York weather, unpredictable. First you called the blonde crazy, but as you sat later writing the first article for your new column, you realized that indeed this city fits you and you fit right in. That led to Logan who you knew was in San Francisco, living the dream he had for both of you, and you saw that it was the city for him. Logan was just like San Francisco, charming and invitingly cozy as much as it sometimes appears intimidating, always cheery and positively glowing with energy, on the sunny side of life, rain was rare and winters were mild, but the winds could kill.

In your column that first week it would come out, you compared cities to people, you described your nature and how it fits with your lovely New York and the people loved it, you turned out to a success.

One day, as you made your way to the office, because work at home wasn't possible, everything seemed to remind you of Logan that day, the sun, the warmth, and the wind. Halfway there you stood face to face with one much unexpected person, the sister you never had, Honor Huntzberger. You both have stared at each other for a few moments before her surprised expression turned cold and a very cynical smile crossed her beautiful face. Her words were short and very harsh, and you learned to full extant just how deep Honor's loyalty for her baby brother run. "Gilmore. I have to say that this is a very unpleasant surprise. Fortunately I have a lunch to attend to. Give my greetings to Emily and Richard and tell them I expect them for brunch very soon, don't bother extending the invitation to yourself, though you parents and step-father are welcome. Good day." She had breezed past you and turned into one of the fancier restaurants just moments before black clouds covered the sun and cold rain pelted down on you.

You sighed and looked sadly after Honor, you knew you shouldn't have expected anything else, but still that had not been the conversation you pictured when you finally run into her. Shaking your soaked head you took in the same direction as her, where you had originally come from, back to your apartment, work would have to wait, a hot bath was all you desired at that moment.

As you walked past the restaurant you didn't see two pairs of chocolate eyes staring after you, and neither did you take notice that one of those pairs belonged to the very man that had been plaguing your thoughts all day. You had been too busy keeping tears at bay as images of happier meetings with Logan's big sister flashed through your head and with them the times in Logan's arms, or simply near him. Things you've lost when you've let him walk out of your life without as much as trying to call out to him, or saying goodbye.

You had walked into your apartment, shedding clothes as you made your way to the bathroom, grabbing the phone from the table in your haste and the book you had started earlier that morning, Nothing Lasts Forever by one of your newly found favorites, Dr. Sidney Sheldon. You've only gotten so far in the addicting paper-back, but you already adored the lead character, Dr. Paige Taylor, it wasn't hard to slip into the intriguing character and live with her the hard, unfair life of a female doctor in the early 90's American society.

Only recently have you learned to appreciate an excellently thought-through plot of a crime novel, courtesy to Christina or simply Christa your best friend and co-worker at the Post, the blond read and watched anything that had crime attached to the description, much like Logan, and you find it funny how you haven't thought of reading that particular book years ago when you had seen Logan devour it every free second he had. After going that through you planned on tackling The Wishing Game by Patrick Redmond. Sabrina, a red-head you had come to love and respect, from the book-store across the street recommended it, and after reading the summary you have become intrigued, the seemingly very interesting suspense novel should keep your mind away from Logan for at least a day, after you read Sheldon's master-piece.

You had situated yourself in a lavender-scented hot bath, opened your book, noting to go down to the book-sore for your new hunt, you were sure Christa told Sabrina to hold for you. But before you begun reading, you have punched in a still very familiar number, brought the phone to your ear and waited.

Few rings later, a tired sounding female voice answered, "Hello?" You know who it is; you smile and greet your old friend who squeals realizing just who's calling her. You've been talking for two hours before you decide to bring up the subject of Logan. Stephanie was silent for a moment and you thought that it had been your final mistake and that she won't talk to you anymore, just like Colin. But she always had a surprise on her; it wouldn't have been Stephanie if she didn't. Her first words were, "I'm not Colin, Rory. But neither I'm Finn. I won't blame you, but I won't pretend to understand you, either, I'll just speak my mind..." And you wouldn't have wanted her any other way; you have called for her opinion, after all.

She's very sparse with her answers, but she had managed to get you to admit something you denied for the past five years, the fact that you still love him like the first time around and that you're hurting all over. She's the first one to hear you cry that day before you hang up and head to the store where Sabrina smiles her usual smile, takes your book out and types the bill. You leave a few bucks on the table, the price of the book and a very generous tip.

You're staring at the cover of your book, the face of the main character, a fourteen year old boy, seems scary and his eyes are almost piercing your soul. You put the book in your bag and head for the Central Park; you need your favorite bench.

Sitting on the brown bench overlooking the pond, you take out Sheldon to finish the twenty-something pages you have left, and wonder just how much the love life of Dr. Taylor seems to be similar to your own. The man she believed to be the love of her life married another, just like Dean, the she starts looking at another, like you and Logan, then the ex comes back, he's unhappy in his marriage, the disaster with Dean all over again, but Paige seemed to be smarter then you, she didn't take him back, she knew a better prospect when she saw and took the man she knew would always just make her happy. Paige's date with the architect seemed so much like the dinner you attended to with Logan, his friends and Marty, you both have ended in the arms of the men you knew would be perfect for you.

And when you get to the part where Paige takes the card on which her architect has asked 'Yours or Ours; pick the answer', with the little cardboard replica of the house he always dreamt about, and circles 'Ours', sending it to him, you wish for time to turn back, so you can take that box out of Logan's hands, slip on the beautiful, perfect ring and tell him 'yes', a million times over.

Half a hour later you close the book and sigh. For all the hardships and everything she had to go through, Paige got her happy end, with the man she loves and her dream fulfilled, and you can't help but wonder if you could have had the same, but before you can make up the answer, a voice from behinds brings back the past.

"I never knew you stole books, Ace."

Your eyes went impossibly wide and your head turns around so fast, you wonder for a moment that you didn't snap your neck. But there he stands, just all those years ago, hands in pockets, blonde hair in perfect disorder, chocolate eyes searching yours, only the grin is missing, his expression is serious, almost wistful.

You fight the urge to run into his arms as you slowly stand up from your seat to fully face him. Your right hand goes slowly to your hair that only reaches enough to curl under your ears, you had cut it that way when you were still on road and liked the style, it spoke of who you really were. His appearance hasn't changed much, but he looks older and more mature, though you're relieved to see that the mischievous glint never really left his beautiful eyes.

When you finally come to yourself, you smile a bit shyly and him and whisper his name. "Logan," you say it so softly, that you wonder if he heard you at all, but when his face softens you know that he has.

"It's good to see you, Ace. You look as beautiful as always." His voice is soft, eyes warm, and words so sincere that you can't stop the tears that make their way down your face. You haven't cried when he has turned his back and walked away from you five years ago, you were numb and too shocked to do so, but now, in this moment as he stands before you and seems to have missed you as much as you missed him, you can let those tears fall, and the ice around your soul melt.

He can't, and never could stand you in tears, his expression is almost painful as he asks you not to cry and brings you in his embrace, burying his face in your neck. When your sobs calm down he kisses the remaining tears away, rubs his your noses together and rests his forehead on yours. You stare each other in the eye and know that you can't stay away, that you love each other, and as lips press against yours in a desperate kiss you know for sure that he IS your future.

Minutes later you still stand there, in an unbreakable embrace, still kissing each other with all you have, you exchange "I love you's" every time your lips part and you both know that this is for always.

Hours later you lay curled up before the fire place in your den, sipping wine and talking in hushed whispers, kissing and nipping at each others' lips and chins and necks, and you remember how desperately yet gently and expertly he made love to you, as the rain fell and the sun shined together over New York City, you can't help but think that even if San Francisco describes him, New York doesn't describe you, it describes both of you, together.

In the morning he gives you a kiss on the cheek as you drink your third cup of coffee and prepares to leave. You want to ask him to stay, but you think it's silly, you'll see each other in a few hours, anyway. Maybe you could read that new book while you wait for the time to go by.

He has reached the door as he turns around, looks you in the eye and says "Tell me not to go." Without thought you jump up from your seat, run to him, wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him senseless. That is answer enough for him as he carries you to the bedroom.

Later as you lay on his chest, listening to his heart-beat and moving your fingers gently over his stomach, you can't help but think that not even Sidney Sheldon could've given you a better happy end, you know that now you will stay together no matter what.


AN: My first Gilmore Girls fanfic, hopefully not the last. Please tell me what you think, I would really appreciate it.

Jas