**This chapter contains dialogue straight from Gilmore Girls season 5 which is indicated in italics. Each chapter that has dialogue straight from the show will be in italics and at first there will be quite a bit, but it will lessen over the next couple of chapters. I do not own it and will not be making any money off of it and all that Jazz**

Rory entered Branford Hall with a newfound sense of self. Sure, she had made a colossal mistake with Dean and spent the summer running from said mistake, but she had come to terms with it and told Dean without a doubt that it would not be happening again. Well, not again, again. When she saw him after she got back, and they slept together she realized that she couldn't do it. She couldn't be the other woman, and she really didn't want to hurt Lindsay. She knew that they were separated now, but she couldn't focus on that. She was determined to make this year better than the last.

"Rory!"

She turned to see her friend Marty from her Political Science class, "Hey, Marty. Did you just get in?"

He shrugged his shoulders, "I got in a little bit ago. Already finished unpacking."

The movers stopped in front of her, "It should be unlocked." He turned the handle and shook his head, "I'm sorry. Paris should have been here by now." She unlocked the door and let the men in so that they could arrange her furniture.

"I wonder where Paris is."

Rory looked around the empty dorm, "Me too. Usually she would get here early so that she could choose the best room and arrange the furniture the way she likes."

She took her phone out and dialed her friend's number. "Hello?"

"Paris, hey it's Rory."

"Rory, hello."

Rory could hear the melancholy in her friend's voice, "I'm in our room and I was just wondering how I could beat you here."

"I'll be there later."

Rory caught Marty's eye, "Are you okay? You sound funny."

Marty gave her a questioning glance, but Paris' voice caught her attention, "Asher's dead."

Rory's eyebrows shot up, "What?"

She could hear movement on the line, "He died. Two weeks ago. In Oxford."

She wasn't sure how to respond to that. Paris' relationship with the profession had honestly creeped her out a little, but she didn't want her friend to be hurt, "Oh. Paris, I'm sorry. How?"

"Heart attack. It was quick."

"Heart attack?" Marty threw his hands up, trying to silently ask what was going on.

"Yes."

"It wasn't during…um…was it?" She could tell Marty was dying to know what was going on, but she tried to focus on Paris.

"No, Rory, this great man was not brought down by my vagina. Okay."

The heat was licking at her cheeks, "Okay. Sorry. I just…that's terrible."

"He was teaching a Shakespeare class. A Midsummer Nights Dream. He was doing Puck, and then suddenly, he wasn't."

"Oh man."

"And the class was so into his reading they didn't even get it. They thought it was acting. It was Dick Shawn all over again."

Rory paced away from Marty, "Where are you?"

"I'm in his flat, trying to get his effects squared away. And of course, his family is acting like spoiled children. All they care about is what they get. If I have to moderate one more argument about the Chippendale desk, I'm gonna freak out. And the lawyer that is handling his affairs in a moron, and don't even get me started on the funeral."

Rory could tell her friend was hurting, "Is there anything I can do?"

"No. Thanks. Look, I'll be there later okay?"

Rory nodded, "Okay. I'll see you in a little while."

Hanging up the phone after saying goodbye she turned to Marty who was practically vibrating with curiosity, "Asher Flemming died."

The shock was evident, "Paris' professor? Please tell me it was during sex."

Rory socked him in the arm, "No! It wasn't! He had a heart attack."

He seemed to deflate, "Damn, I lost the pool."

"What pool?"

He shrugged sheepishly, "Well, there was a pool around campus. People were betting on whether they would stick it out and a few people bet that he would either croak during sex, or Paris would kill him."

"What!?"

Marty backed away, "Hey, I didn't start it."

Rory took a deep breath and chose to ignore it. It wasn't worth getting worked up over. "I need coffee."

On the way to the coffee cart they caught up on their summers. Marty told her about his "Uncle Jerry" and how he finally had an okay relationship with his dad now that they knew he wasn't his real father. She filled him in on her disastrous foray into the world of sex with her married ex and the subsequent trip to Europe to escape said disaster.

"So, you slept with him, gave him your virginity, ran away to Europe with your grandparents, and then slept with him when you got back? That's…"

"Yeah. I told him that I couldn't be in a relationship with him. It was all a mistake."

Marty opened and closed his mouth several times before settling on, "I have no idea what to say to that."

Rory was about to respond when a guy purposefully ran into Marty's shoulder, rudely blaming Marty for it. What was even more surprising was the fact that the naked guy from freshman year was standing right next to him. They were joined by a rather attractive blond guy who seemed to have grown a rather desperate looking arm ornament.

As Marty and the other two squared off she caught the eye of Naked Guy, "Have we met, Love? A saucy night at the pub? Maybe a party of some sort?"

Rory blushed remembering exactly how she knew the Aussie, "We have met, Naked Guy."

The rude guy who looked like a member of the future stock brokers of America raised his brow at her, "Naked Guy?"

It seemed to take a minute for it to click, but then the Aussie smiled and slung his arm around her shoulder which she tried to shrug off, "This is the Sheila that lent me her robe, saving me from a night in jail for indecent exposure."

She stopped struggling for a second, "What?"

He became excited, seemingly enjoying the story he was about to tell, "You see, I ran into campus security on my way to Logan's that night and was nearly arrested. It was only the fact that I was clothed in your robe that I was allowed to walk away. I would have been extremely put out if I'd have missed our departure."

She finally extricated herself from his chokehold, "Glad I could be of service."

She tuned into the conversation between Marty and the blond, "Assuming your services are still for hire this year, your financial situation hasn't changed at all?"

"Nope."

"Good. I'll give you a call. Where're you living now?"

"Branford."

He slung his arm over the girl at his side, "Oh excellent, Branford. Alright, good running into you."

"Excellent shirt, really. I can see what you see in him." Rory wanted to punch the little jerk in his face.

"Don't be an ass Colin."

"Me? Never. I'm a friend to all people large, and very, very small."

"Goodbye, Love."

She watched as they all walked away. She didn't expect to ever see the Naked Guy again, and after meeting his friends, wasn't sure if she wanted to repeat the experience.

"I kinda hate those guys."

Rory glanced over at the group, her eyes lingering slightly on the blond, "Really? I can't see why."

She and Marty started making their way back to her dorm, "So how do you know Finn Morgan?"

She tilted her head in confusion, "Who?"

Marty gestured back the way they came with his coffee cup, "The tall Australian dude."

Rory rolled her eyes, "I don't really know him. Remember me telling you about the Naked Guy?" He nodded, "That was him."

Marty's head bobbed slowly up and down, "Makes sense now. He has a reputation for going through naked phases."

Rory shuddered, "That's disturbing."

The next morning found Rory with a distraught, neurotic roommate shoving posters in her hand and out the door. She wanted to help and if it meant putting up with Paris' fantasies of throwing professor Flemming a wake she would help. She had only gotten to the first announcement board and was taping the picture up when the three musketeers from the coffee cart went flying past her, headed by Naked Guy.

"Okay Finn, last building, please say it looks familiar."

"Ahh, ahhh."

"Apparently it doesn't look familiar."

She turned to see Naked Guy glance towards her door, "No, hold on. Hold. On. Yes, here. This is where she lives."

Rory was a little fearful of why they would be looking for her, "Excuse me, can I help you?"

The blond didn't even look over at her as he dismissed her, "No thanks."

"Hey."

"Don't put your number. Don't put your number."

The Aussie turned toward him, "I'm not putting my number, I'm putting your number."

"That's my room."

All three men turned towards her at once. The blond raised his brow and smirked at her, "Okay, put my number."

"Are you sure this is your room?"

"I'm sure."

"I could have sworn it was her room."

Okay, so they weren't looking for her, "Well what's her name? Maybe I know her."

"Uh, it was, uh, short."

She wanted to laugh. This guy really was a piece of work. "Oh, I can understand your disappointment, losing a potential soulmate like that, but that is my room."

"I'm sorry about the mix-up. My friend here, he means no harm. He just has to learn that Guinness and blonds they don't mix."

Naked Guy drew up to his full height, "Redheads."

"We sincerely apologize, and we will now leave you to finish putting up your poster of…this really old guy."

She could feel the blush spreading across her cheeks, "Professor Asher Flemming."

"What they were out of Orlando Bloom?"

She didn't like that he thought of her as some dewy-eyed school girl, "Professor Flemming died last week. We're throwing him a wake."

"Okay, so were you and Flemming…"

He started pumping his fist and it took her a second to get what he was trying to say, "No!" How could he even think that? She could never sleep with a faculty member, let alone one so old.

He laughed at her repulsion, "Sorry, just…you're putting a poster of him up in your hallway you can see where I get the impression he was more than a teacher."

"Well he was, more than a teacher, he was a great writer, and an inspiration, and many other things that you couldn't possibly understand."

He seemed confused and maybe a little surprised by her answer, "You don't like me. You don't know me, but you don't like me."

She rolled her eyes, "I know you."

"You do?"

"We met yesterday." His head tilted to the side in confusion, so she continued, "With Marty."

"Marty?"

"Marty, my friend Marty. He bartended for you."

"Yes, Marty. It slipped my mind. I don't believe I got your name…"

"Rory."

"Nice to meet you, Rory. You're looking lovely, anger suits you."

She scoffed, "I'm not angry, I'm irritated."

He seemed perplexed once again, "By me. Because I forgot for a moment that we had met previously."

"No, I'm irritated because of the way you spoke to my friend Marty yesterday."

"What did I say that was so bad? I think I said hello, and that he made a kick ass margarita."

"It's not what you said, it's how you said it."

"And how'd I say it?"

She thought for a moment, trying to come up with a comparison that would make her mother proud, "Like Judi Dench."

"Ouch."

For a second, she wanted to smile at the fact that he had gotten the reference so quickly. Most people wouldn't have figured it out. She kept her smile in and forced herself to remain indignant, "Just because somebody doesn't have money or a fancy family, doesn't mean they're inferior to you."

"I agree."

"And just because somebody is a bartender at a party for you and your friends does not mean that you can talk to them like a servant."

Feeling she had made her point she turned away from him to make her exit. When she heard his voice call out behind her, "Well…"

She whipped back around, wondering how the hell he expected to counter that argument, "What?"

"I hired him, I paid him, he served, that's what a servant does."

"Are you serious?"

"For the sake of argument."

She knew he was baiting her, but she couldn't help but respond, "He was doing a job."

"A job he took willingly."

"Some people have to work."

"And I bet if you asked him, he'd tell you he made excellent tips that night cause my friends, they tend to enjoy the refill."

"That's not the point."

"To a bartender tips are very much the point."

"Just because you pay somebody doesn't mean that you can speak to them as if they're beneath you."

"Actually, the fact that this is a free country means that I can speak to anyone in any manner in which I choose. However, the rules of civilized society may frown upon an obvious show of snobbery, so if that's your argument?"

"I don't have an argument!"

"Well, I can give you a moment to formulate on if you want to continue."

"I'm busy."

"You concede."

She couldn't believe she was standing in her hallway arguing with this guy. She had assumed he was just some airheaded society brat, but he was proving to be more intelligent and much more interesting than she was bargaining for. "I don't like it when people hurt my friends."

"And you react when goaded."

"I am not goaded. I am so far from goaded. Get out your compass I'll show you how far from goaded I am."

His smile stretched across his face and she fought not to mimic it, "I think we've got a serious debater in our midst."

"Logan! I've found her." When did they sneak away? Naked Guy turned to race back up the stairs, but stopped and locked his eyes on Rory, "Do I know you, Love?"

She rolled her eyes, "Yes, we established this yesterday."

She could see the curiosity in Logan's eyes as his friend stared at her. After a moment he seemed to come to some sort of conclusion, "Nice to see you again, Love. Logan, let's go mate."

Logan watched his friend go and turned back to her, "Tell Marty I said hi, and I promise to remember you instantly next time." He leaned in toward her with a baiting smile, "Now tell me that wasn't fun." She wanted to deny him, but she couldn't. The fact was that it was fun. Her mother was the only person that had ever been able to keep up with her, but Logan had surpassed her. She wanted to hate him, but she couldn't. So, she settled on keeping a straight face. He sighed dramatically, "Master and Commander."

She was so thrown off by the change in topic she almost released a smile, "The movie?"

His smirk was devastatingly charming, "No, that's what I want you to call me from now on."

The joy at getting the features beat was tempered slightly by the fact that Logan, the self-proclaimed 'Master and Commander' was not only on the staff but was the son of Mitchum Huntzberger. She now understood where his intelligence came from. The man was a legend in the journalism world. His devil-may-care attitude was surprising considering his father's very strong work ethic, but she supposed it must have come from his mother, or the fact that he was spoiled. His bit to annoy Doyle was funny though.

Doyle's screech startled her, and she jerked her head up to see what was going on, "What are you two nuckleheads doing here?"

The tall Aussie was leaning heavily on his friend, sunglasses covering his eyes, "Where are we?"

His friend glanced around, "Why I believe we are in the newsroom."

"Why're we here?"

Doyle stomped his foot like a petulant child, "That's what I wanna know."

Logan lowered his feet from the desk, "I believe they're here for me."

The Aussie was about to respond when he caught sight of her, "You! Love!" He stumbled over to her desk and sat down right in front of her, causing her to push her chair away. "I could use your assistance darling."

"Ugh, you smell like a distillery. What do you want Naked Guy?"

Recognition clicked in his obviously still intoxicated brain, "I knew I knew you. You gave me your robe. It was rather comfy. I still have it. Do you want it back?"

She thought about all of the depraved things her poor robe must have been exposed to in this man's company, "No thanks. You keep it."

"Thanks, Love."

She stared at him for a minute while he snooped through her top drawer, "What did you need?"

He seemed lost until his snobby friend spoke up, "Let's go, Finn. We have classes to attend…unless you want to be disowned?"

She jumped when her weird companion dropped to the floor next to her and put his arms around her waist. The disgust on Doyle's face was overshadowed by the laughter coming from Logan. "Tell them that its too early for classes. I can stay with you. I'll help you with…whatever it is you're doing. Don't make me go."

She knew the horrified look on her face must be comical, but she honestly had no idea what was going on right now. She barely knew this guy and he was practically begging to hang out with her. Granted he just wanted to get out of class, but still. He reminded her a little of Kirk, so she decided to channel her mom to deal with him, "Honey, you can't stay with me, but if you go to class with your friends, I'll buy you a yummy coffee to take with you. I might even have a coloring book that you can take."

He gave her an incredulous look, "I'm not a child, Love." He seemed to ponder her offer for a moment, "I'll take it. Let's go, Reporter Girl! The coffee cart awaits! Don't forget my coloring book."

He dragged her from her seat and thread her arm through his. "Hold on a second!" She saved her document and found the Fire Safety Coloring Book that had been sitting in the bottle of her desk since she started at the YDN. The second it was in her hands she was being pulled from the room, followed closely by the others.

Thankfully, the trip to the coffee cart was short and the man child next to her was either too drunk or too hungover to make much in the way of conversation. "Hey Tim. I'll have a large caramel macchiato with an extra shot and whipped cream plus whatever this one is having."

"I'll have a large black coffee mate."

Logan slipped in beside her, "Make that three large black coffees and her sugar drink."

"I am not paying for your drinks too! I told him I would buy him one, not you two."

Logan tried to pass some cash over her shoulder, effectively putting his arm around her, "My treat."

Pushing him away she turned back to Tim, "Just the two drinks." Facing Logan once more she stated, "I made a deal and I will honor it. I don't need your money, Huntzberger." He shrugged with a cute little smirk and stepped back. "Now, Finn, you have your coffee, here is your coloring book, it is time to go to class like a good boy."

The Aussie took both items as if he was trying to take her seriously, "Yes, mother."

Throwing up her hands she turned back toward the YDN offices, "I don't remember adopting any lost boys." Their laughter followed her as she re-entered the building with a smile on her face.