Contentment
A/N: Hey, all. So, this takes place about a month after The Basement Box. As always, please review, and tell me whatever. I can take it, I swear.
I know that sometimes I confuse you guys and you hate me...but stick with me- I swear, it will all come together one day.
Oh, and I stole the "fable" from the Social Studies book I had in grade nine. Anybody in Canada, do you know what I'm talking about? ;) Read on!
She laughs. So purely and so wonderfully, throwing her head back and opening her mouth so that he can see her bright white teeth. Breathlessly, she says, "Say it again."
"Not if you're going to make fun of me," he protests playfully. It's in moments like this that he understands fully the meaning of the word 'content'. The dictionary talks about happiness and satisfaction, but it's more than that, something that he could never voice. He can only convey it to her in the way he kisses her, and when they break apart, she flashes him yet another brilliant smile, her tongue and lips different shades of pink-y red that clash against her perfect teeth.
"I won't," she vows solemnly, though he sees the twinkling mischief in her eyes.
This is his perfect moment, wrapped in her arms and incredibly soft sheets. They're Egyptian cotton. She'd giggled when they'd bought them, and when he'd asked her what the hell was so funny, she'd stared at him and asked incredulously, "You've never seen Uptown Girls?" When he'd said that it had looked like a bad movie, her stare had intensified as she'd told him, very simply, that that was the point.
She dances her fingers down up chest as if miming out The Itsy Bitsy Spider. He makes a face and thinks that they've been spending too much time in a baby-oriented mindset lately. She trails them down a little and lays her hand flat against his chest so that she can feel his heartbeat. It's her favourite sound in the world, she's told him so more than once.
He slips his own hand across her stomach. Six more months, and they'll be parents. She smiles at him, reading his mind easily. She hooks one leg over his so that she can get even closer to him. "Say it again," she whispers, licking her lips. Her eyes are wide and her smile is flirty; he can do nothing but give in.
"So this boy goes into a church with some fish, and the priest says…"
She bursts out laughing again.
"Ace, it's not a joke. It's a…fable, or something."
"Uh-huh. Sure it is." She gives him a placating smile, and her lips grow white as she presses them together, trying not to laugh.
"It is," he insists. "It's supposed to teach some lesson about purgatory, or something. Or maybe it was greed…"
She rolls her eyes and he flips the two of them over so that he's hovering over her. He sees desire flickering in her eyes at that simple movement, and can't help but be proud of himself. "You'd better admit that you believe me…"
She grins cheekily. "Or what?"
He grins down at her, forgetting words for a moment as he just looks at her. She's glowing. She honestly is. He'd always thought that was some sort of ridiculous cliché-type thing, but her skin is shining.
He's so glad to be at home, with her. The last couple months have passed blissfully, full of baby this and baby that. Going to bed is no longer something that he puts off, or dreads, but something that he can't wait for, and that he encourages wholeheartedly. At first, he treated her delicately. She was carrying his child, after all, and even after she protested, insisting that he couldn't hurt her, he remained careful. But eventually, there was something about the way her eyes darkened that caused his resolve to crack.
"Logan?" Her eyes are serious, but a gentle smirk is still playing on her lips.
"I love you," he says, his voice as serious as her eyes.
She smiles, with closed lips this time. She opens her mouth to speak, but her cell phone rings.
He groans. They always seem to be interrupted by one of their phones ringing about something. He decides that they should go on vacation, somewhere where there's no cell phone service and a single phone line, the kind that can be unplugged.
As she sits up to dig around for it in her purse, the sheet falls from her body. He's careful to keep his gaze in check. She's perfectly comfortable in front of him as long as he doesn't let his eyes linger anywhere. He leans over to kiss her shoulder as she finally finds her phone, and she shoots him a quick smile. "Hey, Mom."
Ah, he should have known. It's usually Nick or Colin on his phone, but it's almost always Lorelai on hers. And while he appreciates the mother-daughter relationship, he sometimes wishes that they could specify a time to talk or something. He knows that her relationship with Lorelai is an important one to Rory, but he's pretty sure that their mom-kid thing shouldn't take away from the husband-wife bond that Logan's a little more enthusiastic about.
"We're great," Rory says, giving Logan a sweet smile and she pulls his shirt on and buttons it up. It's much too big for her, but he still loves seeing her in his clothes. "Yep, baby's great, too," she adds, her hand resting on her barely rounded stomach.
He leans over and tries to kiss her. She presses her lips to his quickly and then pushes him away playfully. He leans back in stubbornly, and she gives him a look that is part exasperated, part adoring. Her brow wrinkles suddenly and she places her hand firmly on his chest, unconsciously searching for the reassuring thud of his heartbeat. "What, Mom?" she asks softly. After a beat, she prods, "What, what happened? Mom?"
There is silence on the other end of the phone, and then he hears the murmur of Lorelai's voice again.
Rory's glowing skin seems to pale. Her hand flies from Logan's chest to cover her mouths. She blinks twice, quickly, and he notices that he eyes have become watery. "Mom, what…" She's quiet for a moment as he hears Lorelai's voice again. It comes in broken segments.
"Yeah…" Rory whispers. Logan reaches out to place a hand on her back. She seems to lean into that simple touch, as if it's the only thing holding her up. "Yeah, I…tomorrow? I will." She takes a shaky breath. "I…I know. I don't…okay."
Logan reaches out to tuck her hair behind her ear with his other hand. Her breathing is shallow and it's scaring him.
"Okay," she whispers. "Bye." But Lorelai says something else. Rory responds, her voice pained, "I love you, too." Carefully, meticulously, she closes her cell and stares at it.
"Ace?" he asks gently.
She turns to look at him as if she's forgotten that he's there. Her eyes hold a combination of sadness and confusion. "Logan?"
"What's going on?" he asks calmly.
She reaches out suddenly, falling into his arms. He hugs her close to him, his brain going into overdrive. What could have happened?
She starts to cry softly, huddling into his arms. "Babe?" he asks, running his hand in wide, slow circles on her back.
"Grandpa died," she chokes as her tears spill onto his neck and began to trickle, slowly, down his chest.
He thinks of the word 'content' and figures that satisfaction is always short-lived.
(Part Two)
She clings to him all day. When they first arrived in Hartford, she let go of him briefly to hug Lorelai, but other than that, she's attached to him. It's as though he's her safety blanket.
Gilmore relations that he's never met or heard of show up, eyes swimming with sympathy and, beneath that, greed. They inquire, after platitudes, when the reading of the will shall take place, and Lorelai gives them polite smiles and non-answers that they have to make do with because her father has died.
Lorelai has not fallen apart. Her eyes are full of a sadness that's painful to look at, but she hasn't cried or broken down. Luke hovers near her constantly, uncomfortable and worried.
Rory, on the other hand, is a bona fide mess. Her eyes are swimming with tears that sometimes manage to slip out of her eyes, and she's clinging to Logan as if her life depends on keeping contact with him. Hushed words can be heard making their way around the house. She was very close to Richard, you know. Apple of his eye.
Lorelai had left Will and Emma back in Stars Hollow with Sookie, which is good, because she's suddenly become very much in charge of the Gilmore household. Emily is as much of a mess as Rory is, but in a different way. She seems to have lost all and any of her energy. She seems almost helpless without him. Logan can see, from his mother-in-law's eyes, that it makes Lorelai both frustrated and heartbroken.
Logan sits down in a chair, pulling Rory with him. It's not quite big enough to fit both of them, and she's half sitting on his lap. She tucks her head into the crook of his neck and sighs tiredly.
Emily and Lorelai are fighting about caskets. Emily's not as powerful and intimidating as she normally is; her arguments are quiet, but they carry an immense amount of force.
Lorelai looks like she's going to crack at any minute. "Fine!" she cries. "Then we'll get mahogany!"
"I did not say that I wanted mahogany. I simply said that-"
"Mom, I don't care! Just pick a fu- flipping wood, already!"
"Lorelai Victoria Gilmore," Emily says, and her tone carries a warning as well as love.
"Mom!"
"Stop!" Rory cries, shooting out of Logan's arms before he can stop her. "Stop it," she repeats shakily. It seems as though, suddenly, her legs can't support her weight.
Logan, reacting quickly, grabs her before she falls. Lorelai's eyes flash and her tears finally spill onto her cheeks. "Honey, go lie down," Lorelai says. "We'll stop. I'm sorry. Logan, take her upstairs." Her daughter shoots her a defiant look, but Lorelai matches her gaze with calm eyes. "Think about your baby, sweets," she adds softly, and Rory allows Logan to lead her upstairs.
They go into 'her' room at her grandparents, a room with floral bedspreads and NSYNC posters and a spare Chilton uniform still stored in the closet. "Come on," Logan cajoles, "let's lie down."
She climbs into bed only because she's too tired to protest. He kicks off his shoes and lies down next to her, gathering her into his arms.
"I haven't called in a while," she whispers.
"You talked to him last week," he reminds her, kissing her comfortingly. "He knew you had a lot going on, especially now that you're pregnant. He understood."
She balls up the sheets in her hands. "Is that really an excuse, though?"
"It's not an excuse, Ace. He never would have been mad at you."
She swallows thickly and curls up against his chest. He wraps his arms around her tightly and sighs. "I love you," he says, because it's about all he can do at this point.
"Love you, too," she murmurs.
He walks downstairs a couple hours later. Rory is still asleep upstairs. He sees Lorelai pour herself a shot of tequila and walks over, helping himself to one.
"What're you doing?" she asks wearily.
"It would be impolite of me to force you to drink alone," he tells her with a small smirk.
She gives him a small, forced smile in return. "I guess it would. How is she?"
"Stressed. Tired. Sad. Take your pick."
Lorelai exhales noisily, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"She'll be okay," he tells her. "She's just…you know Rory."
"I do," she says sadly.
Logan suddenly feels tear sting his own eyes. "She really wanted him to be a big part of the baby's life."
Lorelai pours herself another shot and tips her head back as she swallows it. "It's so…" she says with a mournful chuckle. She doesn't elaborate.
He nods and gives her hand a quick squeeze.
She shoots him a grateful look. "I hate all these greedy relatives hovering around. I'm just
trying to figure out what I'm…thinking," she says, even though she means feeling, "and they're so nosy and…argh." She looks up at him. "Hey, Logan?"
He pours them both another shot and glances up at her, noting her serious tone. "Yeah?"
"I'm glad you married Rory," she whispers.
He understands that he cannot reply to that without throwing them into awkward territory. He raises his tiny shot glass. "To Richard," he proposes.
"To Daddy," she says softly, more to herself than to him.
Rory wanders downstairs, feeling almost dizzy. She can't believe that one short month ago, she sat in this living room, telling her grandparents that she and Logan were going to have baby. "Logan?" she asks sleepily, spotting her mother and husband together.
"Hey, babe," he says, turning around and walking over to her quickly. "You okay?"
Lorelai, behind him, tilts her head to the side and smiles a smile that is genuinely sad at Rory. Rory looks back at Logan and wraps her arms around him, looking forward to the unfailing support of his hug. "Yeah."
Richard has left her every single one of his books. He's also left a large sum of money for her baby's trust fund. She stays in the study alone after his will has been read to run her fingers along the spines of the books. She's read most of them, but not all. She and Logan definitely have enough space in their house for all of these; the only issue is getting them there. She smiles, because she'll get to sit back and watch as Logan lugs books all over the place. She picks up War and Peace and a single piece of paper falls out. She bends to pick it up. It's not a piece of paper, as she'd thought, but an envelope, a long legal one.
She sits down in her grandfather's desk chair to open it. She empties the contents gently onto the desk. There is a picture of the two of them in the envelope. He has his arm around her and she's smiling prettily. She can't be more than nineteen, and they're both decked out in Yale garb. There are also receipts for the house he'd bought for her in the Vineyard when he'd learned that she was pregnant. There's a smaller envelope, too, which she turns over delicately in her hands. On the front is written:
To My Beloved Granddaughter
On the day of your first child's birth
Because any child of yours will want to go to Fez
Rory feels through the paper of the envelope with a shaky hand. She knows there's a check there, and she knows what it looks like with her grandfather's business-like handwriting on it. And just as well as she knows that, she knows that she'll never bring herself to cash it. She buries her face in her hands and tries not to cry.
There's a soft knock on the door, and Logan peeks in. "Hey, there you are," he says. "What're you doing, Ace?"
Her fingers close around the envelope, because all of sudden, she feels that it's too private to share. "Nothing," she says as he walks toward her and sits on the desk across from her. Her finger relax as she reminds herself that this is Logan, not someone coming in to ask whether or not she'd gotten the loveseat they'd so desperately wanted. "Just hiding from greedy relatives."
"Hey, Rory?"
She looks up at him through watery eyes. "Yeah?"
"I want to tell you something about greed."
Her brow wrinkles, and even though she's not in the mood for what sounds like a lecture, the journalist in her is intrigued. "Okay."
He looks her in the eye and says, "So this boy goes into a church with some fish, and the priest says…"
Despite herself, and despite her misery, she bursts out laughing and hits his arm with War and Peace.
And even though there are tearstains on her cheeks and a bruise developing on his arm, he thinks of the word 'contentment'.