The Perfect Name
A/N: I want to start off by saying thanks!! I had seven hits on A Toast to Life and two reviews in the beginning. That is what I'm talking about, people! To those of you who found Toast too angsty/melodramatic I totally understand. I kind of hated myself after I wrote that. But hey, I hate most of the stuff I write, so I post it just in case...
So I've realized something. I write a lot of phone conversations. I guess because it's the easiest way to bring in Lorelai most of the time. And because Rory and Logan did spend time apart while he was in London. And, I bring Finn in a lot. I can't help it. That accent is my weakness ;). Anyway, this is semi-angsty too, so beware! But I love you for reviewing no matter what. I can take it. Read on!
Oh...and this is set into the future a couple years past Wallow. Sorry if I'm being confusing again! Seriously, this time...read on!
"Lorelai." The voice was heavy, slightly raspy.
She actually took a step back, even though that didn't put any distance between her and the phone. It was the inn's phone, so it had a cord, but a long one. That was the voice of some sort of freaky stalker-type serial killer. "What do you want?" she demanded, signaling frantically to get Michel's attention. He ignored her. "Who is this?" she tried.
"Logan," the voice informed her.
"Oh," she said, taken aback, and her hands, which had been desperately trying to communicate, froze in the air before dropping to her sides. "Uh, hey. Sorry about that. I, um, thought you were a serial killer."
He didn't laugh, didn't even chuckle, and his voice remained heavy and almost…pained. "There's a compliment."
"It was just…your voice is messed up. Do you have a cold or something? It could be the phone," she added, glancing suspiciously at her own phone.
"I…Lorelai, I need to tell you something."
"Sure," she said, a bit cautiously. He was silent for a good couple minutes, so she asked, "Need me to baby-sit those adorable kids of yours or something? Oh, no, please tell me Rory didn't break out Titanic again. You know she can't watch that movie when she's hormonal."
"She lost the baby." Each of his words was full of sadness, yet detached.
"She what?" Lorelai asked, horrified. She didn't really intend for him to answer; it would be too painful for him to say it again and too painful for her to hear it. It had just seemed like the logical question to ask. Lorelai pressed a hand to her mouth. She could feel tears slipping out of her eyes. "Wh-where are you?"
"New Haven General."
"I will be there as soon as I can," she whispered, hanging up without waiting for an answer.
"Lorelai?" asked Michel. Now that he was actually looking at her, he looked concerned. "Is everything alright?"
"Rory…" she trailed off, wiping her eyes hastily. "I have to go, Michel. L-look after stuff, okay?" she asked shakily.
For once, he didn't put up an argument. She stuffed everything she thought she might need inside her purse haphazardly as she hurried out. She pulled out of the inn's parking lot and onto the highway.
Don't think, she lectured herself. It was a difficult task for her. She'd spent her youth sitting in stuffy rooms with other girls in ridiculous-looking dresses. During those years, thinking was her only escape. Sometimes she thought about frivolous things, like the boots she'd fallen in love with at the mall. Sometimes she thought about silly things, like jokes with her friends; sometimes she tried to think of new ways to sneak out of her house. On other evenings she'd recite the lyrics to her favourite songs over and over in her head; if she was really desperate, she'd even think about school. If Christopher was at the event, she'd catch his eye and make faces. If he wasn't she'd think about him, wonder what he was doing while she sat there, bored to death. She'd even spent one of those tedious evenings thinking about the baby she'd found out about two days before…Rory. Lorelai Gilmore never stopped thinking, not even when she was asleep. She had ridiculous dreams. Everyone in Stars Hollow could attest to that fact.
Her cell rang, playing Walk Like an Egyptian. She flipped it open and brought it to her ear with a shaky hand. "Hey, Sookie."
"Lorelai! Honey, what happened? Michel said…"
"Sookie," Lorelai began. She allowed a couple of tears to slide down her cheeks. "Sookie, Rory lost her baby," she choked out.
"She what?"
"That's w-what I said when…when Logan called me."
"Lorelai, I-"
"Shit!"
"What, what is it?"
"Construction. Do you know any…back roads, or anything?"
"Honey, I'm sorry, I don't. Tell Rory…"
"I will. Thanks, Sookie." Once again, she hung up without waiting for a reply. She hit the wheel in exasperation.
Her phone rang again, playing My Girl. She snatched it up. "Rory?"
"It's Logan." His voice was incredibly raw. "I heard there was traffic. Thought you might be caught."
"You thought right. Can I…is she…"
"She's asleep right now."
Lorelai squeezed her eyes shut. "If she wakes up…tell her I'm coming."
"I will. But she probably knows already."
"I hope so. Logan? I'm so sorry."
"Me, too."
When they hung up, the cars began to inch forward at a steady pace.
Rory. This could not…should not…wasn't supposed to…happen to her.
Lorelai shook her head to clear it and fixed both her eyes and her mind on the road. Somehow, she managed to maneuver through all of the traffic.
Finding a parking spot at the hospital was hell. She managed to squeeze her Jeep into a spot at the very back of the lot.
She ran from her car to the door, and that left her breathless. She was going to join a gym. She really was.
"Rory Gilmore," she gasped at a nurse. "Or Lorelai Gilmore, I guess. No, Lorelai Huntzberger."
"Third floor," the nurse told her kindly. "Can I get you some water?"
"No. I'm fine. Thanks." What should have been one sentence came out in clipped sections.
It occurred to Lorelai, as the elevator doors opened, revealing the lobby of the third floor, that she didn't know if she was ready to see her daughter.
Logan stood up when she entered the room. She reached out to hug him.
When they let go of each other, she took a deep breath and looked at her daughter. Rory looked small and lost in the hospital bed. Her hair was fanned out on the pillow and her eyes were tightly closed. Her skin was deathly pale.
"My baby," Lorelai whispered.
Rory's eyelids fluttered open, and Logan marveled, yet again, at the connection the two of them had. "Mom?" Rory asked hoarsely, squinting at her mother. Then her eyes widened as everything came rushing back to her. "Logan?" she whispered shakily.
"Ace," he said, grabbing her hand. That one three-letter word was packed with emotion.
"Logan…" she looked at him with desperate eyes.
He wanted to lie to her, tell her that everything was okay. His throat constricted. How was he supposed to tell her? He could see Lorelai in his peripheral vision and knew that she was thinking the same thing.
"No," Rory said firmly, shaking his arm, imploring him to look her in the eye. "No!" she cried, a bit more hysterically, when he refused to meet her gaze.
He pulled his eyes up to meet hers slowly. "Ace," he said again.
"No," she protested weakly, one last time.
"Rory, I…"
She was trembling. Tears began to fall down her cheeks.
Logan reached out and pulled her to him, hugging her tightly. There was complete silence for a moment.
Rory did not get hysterical. She cried quiet, heartbreaking, gut-wrenching sobs into Logan's shoulder. She balled up his shirt in her fists and held on to him tightly. His iron grip on her was the only thing keeping her together. "I should've been more careful," she said, her voice below a whisper.
Logan hugged her, if possible, even tighter. She felt her mother hands on her hair. "It's not your fault," one of them- or both of them- said.
She felt Lorelai kiss the back of her head and heard her say softly, "I'm going to leave the two of you alone. I love you, honey."
She couldn't stop crying. Logan had buried his face in her hair and his breathing was uneven. Every time she thought she was done, it would hit her again and tears would well up in her eyes.
"Rory…Ace…" He pulled away from her slightly. His eyes were full of unshed tears. He didn't know what to say. He thought of the nursery at home, painted a pale yellow with navy blue star-shaped stenciling on the wall. He thought of the day they'd painted it. Rory had been banished from the room so that the baby wouldn't be affected by the paint fumes. He and Finn and Lucas had done all of it. And he remembered when she walked in to the room two days later with two-year-old Lory perched on her hip. She had smiled a smile that lit up her entire face. It's beautiful, had been her decree. It's perfect.
Rory let out another sob. "I spent all that time picking a name."
"Babe," he said immediately, his hands cupping her face. He could remember that, too. She'd sat down with Luke and Lory to hear what they liked. She'd bought more baby name books than a person could ever read. Luke and Lory had been easy to name. Lucas Elias, for Luke Danes and Logan's grandfather; Lorelai Victoria, to keep the tradition alive. This was the first baby whose name they'd actually had to consider.
She'd come up with the name on a bright, sunny afternoon in summer. It was hot, but she was sitting outside, watching Luke and Lory play in the sprinkler. Rory had hated the summer while she was pregnant, saying that the heat made her moods and her health ten times worse, but on that day she'd been happy to sunbathe. She'd been lying back in a lawn chair, Atlas Shrugged in her hands, when it had occurred to her. "Logan!" she'd cried.
He'd looked up from his newspaper, alarmed. "What is it, Ace? Are you okay?"
"Fine," she'd told him with the most radiant grin he'd ever seen. "Perfect. I thought of a name."
"Don't leave me in suspense."
"Regan."
"Regan, huh? Why?"
She'd blushed. "Just because."
"C'mon, Ace, out with it."
"Because…" she said softly. "Because if you combine our names, you get 'Rogan'. Change one letter and you have an actual name. And that makes sense, doesn't it?" she'd asked uncertainly. "Because, after all, our kids are one half of both of us. The two of us, combined."
He'd looked at her adorable, hesitant smile, felt the sunshine on his back, and heard the laughter of his kids. He was sure he could stay in that moment forever. "It makes perfect sense," he'd said quietly, giving her an intimate half-smile, half-smirk. "It's the perfect name."
"It'll…" he trailed off. Would it be okay, really? She hadn't met his eyes since it had been confirmed. She was staring at the blankets on the bed, tears pouring down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"God, Rory, no. It's not your fault."
She began weeping in earnest again. "I loved her already. I loved her so much."
"I know, babe," he said softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Me, too."
"I can't…I don't…"
He ran his hands up and down her arms to warm her up. Her skin was ice cold. "I know, Ace."
"Where…are Luke and Lory?"
"At the neighbours'. They're fine." He just wished she would look at him. His eyes ached from all the tears that he wanted to let go.
"Good," she whispered.
"Ace, I wish there was something I could do…"
"You can't," she whispered. "She's gone. My baby girl."
Hearing her say that was like being stabbed several times all at once. He felt like he should be saying Et tu, Brute?, because in no other scenario would sharp pains occur one after the other so viciously. Her baby girl. His baby girl. Their baby.
"Rory?" Lorelai said softly from the door, saving Logan from having to speak. Her eyes, too, were red. "Honey?"
Rory looked up, and both her mother and husband gasped audibly. Her eyes, her insanely blue, penetrating, beautiful eyes… All those words that people used to use to describe those famous eyes…cerulean, sapphire, striking, gorgeous…those no longer fit. Logan would never be able to call those eyes 'angelic' when he was in a sappy mood. Rory's eyes were a pale, eerie gray-blue, devoid of colour, life, sparkle, and love.