AN: Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing. I love the ambiguity of the Logan/Jess decision, and all of your opinions. I'm not waffling about it, I do know who it'll be in the end. But, that'll be at the end. Anyway, thanks for reading, and here's the next chapter.

He attempted to go back to sleep, but it was pointless now. He thought about calling her back, but knew it'd do no good. What he really wanted to do was go to her, but Boston was a big town. It'd take forever to get there and track her down, and by now Logan probably had her in a corner booth at some exclusive club, celebrating her induction by getting her drunk.

He tried to convince himself that she wasn't his problem. It wasn't his job to protect her from the world—it never had been. Just because he knew her well enough to know she wanted nothing to do with the world in which Logan lived—and she seemed insistent on delving into anyhow—he shouldn't give a fuck.

"I'll be fine."

He heard only the uncertainty in her voice. Why did she even call, if she didn't want. . . No. He pulled a pillow over his head, as if he could block out his own thoughts. If she were really in trouble, she'd call him back.

Or so he hoped.

'Fuck.'

&&&&

The SUV started almost the second the boys jumped in; Colin and Finn in the front, Logan sliding in next to Rory and Stephanie in the back. No one spoke, and Rory wondered if they shared her basic fears of the police stopping them. She looked at Logan, and he smiled.

"Good work, Ace," he breathed into her ear.

Suddenly she remembered Jess' advice, and his telling her that being arrested wasn't an option for these people. She sat back, not sure how she felt with that kind of power. It didn't seem right, no matter how relieved she might feel that she wouldn't be caught. She tried to push these thoughts from her mind, and wondered when people would begin speaking again. The silence was eerie.

Once they were off of the main routes, Colin flipped on the radio, and the conversations began.

"How long we got, mate? I need to take a piss," Finn asked.

"You know the rules, no stopping for any reason until we cross jurisdiction lines. You can stop as soon as we hit Connecticut."

Rory marveled in how collected they all seemed to be, despite the scene that they'd just fled. She didn't even know how serious a crime they'd committed. Shouldn't you at least know the punishment before you commit the crime? She figured asking how long you're put away for arson wasn't the best thing to pose at the present time.

"So, now what?"

Logan dropped his arm from the seatback over her, down to her shoulders. "Now we go back to the house for our formal rites. Then we party until we can't remember why we started in the first place."

"Oh."

"What's with the long face? You did it. This party is for you."

"And six others," Colin pointed out.

"It's just, I have to go home tomorrow, that's all."

"Don't worry about that. You can be good as new by 6am, if you need to be. We have our ways," he winked.

"Great, then let's party," she said with determination.

"Let's party," he nodded.

&&&&

Her head felt like it was inside out. She didn't recognize her surroundings, but her sleeping companion was familiar. She was glad of the t-shirt and underwear she wore—but had no recollection of how she came to be wearing them. The alarm clock next to the bed read 6:52am. She'd promised to meet Lorelai at Luke's for breakfast, but that was easily not until 10am at the earliest. She nudged Logan, who rolled towards her before opening his eyes.

"Morning."

How was it that he looked so damn comfortable all the time? She'd have to ask another time. There were more pertinent questions to be asked at the current time: Where are we? How do I make the beating in my head stop? Are these my underwear?

"Did you enjoy the ceremony?"

That wasn't one of the pertinent questions, but she found herself nodding. She had to admit it'd been awe-inspiring. The entire ballroom of the mansion had been candlelit, a string quartet played all evening, and the champagne. . .Probably the beginning of this horrible feeling she was experiencing. But the night before, the induction ceremony; it'd been magical.

"We do it up classier than the Harvard set. Bet you're glad you chose Yale, huh?"

"How did you know about that?"

He raised an eyebrow, as if to ask her wouldn't she like to know. As it was, she cared more about her hangover than his knowledge of her college selection.

"How's your head?"

"Not so good."

He nodded, picked up the beside phone and dialed 7.

"It's me. Yeah, bring two. Thanks," he hung up. Turning back to her, he searched her still troubled eyes.

"You want to know anything else?"

"Well, since you bring it up, how did we end up here?"

"Are you asking if I took advantage of your altered state?"

She blushed, and nodded. He laughed softly, and shook his head. "No. I did change you into an old t-shirt of mine and put you in my bed. I thought you might feel more at ease knowing I didn't let anyone else molest you."

She nodded, looking grateful. He'd been a perfect gentleman. She should have known; he'd never been anything but.

"Though Finn tried, to be honest with you."

She laughed, even though her head hurt.

"And it was hard, Ace. Fiercely hard. Took all of my reserves not to kiss you, with you looking so perfect in my bed. Wearing my clothes," his voice puttered out to a whisper. He trailed the pads of his fingers down her cheek, tracing her jaw line.

"You aren't still drunk, are you?" he leaned in, still smiling at her with that boyish charm of his.

"No," she whispered back.

He took her face in his hands and kissed her softly, slowly, encouraging her to respond. She kissed him back, sitting in this king-sized bed with only a sheet and a t-shirt covering her. She pulled away quickly when someone knocked at the door. A man carrying a tray came in, and set it down on the nightstand. He pulled out part of a newspaper from his back pocket and tossed it at Logan.

"Colin said to get that to 'ya," he informed him. "Morning, love," he addressed Rory, and then left promptly.

She watched the man (butler? He didn't look very butler-esque) leave, then turned to read over Logan's shoulder. It was the second page of the Boston Herald, showing a fire-damaged ballroom—the same they'd fled from the prior night. The article said no one had been hurt, and the fire contained to the main ballroom. The cause of arson believed to be an unknowing person trying to put out a match in an illegally spiked punchbowl. The bookers of the room, an unnamed private group, were not being charged as long as all damages were paid promptly and in full. Hotel officials plan to have the ballroom open for events by May, the start of the society-wedding season.

"Well, well, well," he laughed.

"So, what'll they do now?"

"Oh, I'm sure we'll see some lame attempt at retaliation before the end of the next semester," he said casually.

"What kind of retaliation?" she asked, a little concerned.

"Doesn't matter. Finn'll take care of it," he said, putting the paper down, and looking once again at her. "What time do you have to be home?"

"By ten? How far are we from Stars Hollow?"

"Is that where we took you after your grandparent's party?"

She nodded, surprised he wasn't too drunk to remember. "Well, we're right outside of New Haven, so what, I'm guessing forty minutes?"

"Oh, good."

"Drink this," he poured a glass of whatever had been brought in. She made a face as he poured the mystery beverage.

"Don't worry, it works."

She nodded, and took a sip, making another face on the initial aftertaste. "Drink it all, just down it."

She gulped, and as he poured himself a glass, she began to drink as she watched him wash it back in a long chug.

"That was the most disgusting thing ever. What is in that?"

"I have no idea. Time honored recipe though," he said, throwing back the covers. "There's a shower in the bathroom here, you can go first. You'll find towels in the linen closet. Your bag of belongings is also in there."

"Thanks," she said, a little shy about him watching her walk only in her underwear and a t-shirt across the room. Then she remembered he'd said that he had been the one to change her out of the ball gown and into a t-shirt, her modesty was basically lost now anyhow. She slowly sat up, and realized that the pounding was indeed a little softer now. She got to her feet and trudged over to the bathroom.

Logan picked up the discarded newspaper again, and looked over it, shaking his head. He always appreciated a job well done. He heard an unfamiliar ringing, and looked around the room. Her cell phone appeared to have fallen out of her bag when they brought it up. He walked over, and saw the caller's name on her ID bar.

JESS

He opened the phone and answered. "Hello, you've reached Rory's phone."

"Where's Rory?"

"She's in the shower. Can I take a message?"

Jess hung up the phone. Actually, he slammed it closed, and rolled over onto his back. He actually understood the saying 'he saw red.' She couldn't have slept with this guy. This is what he got for his caring and concern? No. He could go back to not giving a fuck. He was done.

"Fuck!" he yelled, as he threw the phone across the room, and pulled the pillow back over his head.