Title: This is How I Disappear

Rating: R, mostly for language.

Date Started: 6-20-08

Date Finished: 7-3-08

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. Gilmore Girls belongs to Amy Sherman-Paladino and the folks at the WB (or the CW, whatever they call it these days). Title comes from the song of the same name by MCR.

Summary: Logan goes through a near death experience while Rory commits to a serious relationship with Jess. Set two years after series finale.

A/N: There will be one more chapter after this and then the epilogue. Enjoy.

Chapter Nine: And If You Could Talk To Me

Logan closed his cell phone with a definite snap, ending the call to his realtor in California. He'd sold his apartment and his car, ridding himself of most of his California ties with the exception of a few sentimental items and his essentials. Logan was having his few possessions that he wished to keep shipped to Connecticut. The process would take perhaps a week to finalize. In the mean time, he had some other business to attend to.

He had already sent a fax to Howard Doman, the executive who ran oversight of the Huntzburger Corporation, stating his resignation. Logan was fairly certain that word of this would reach his father by the end of the day so he continued to work, calling up a few schools for interviews and leaving a message at his lawyers office to go over the exact conditions of his trust fund, which he hadn't actually used. The fund opened to his use when he turned twenty-one but there hadn't been a time in Logan's life in which he'd needed to spend or invest his savings, he assumed that the time had finally arrived.

Shera had left early that morning to assist the planning of some event or another so that left Logan alone in the Huntzburger household, with the exception of the Russian-American maid, Matrona.

He was planning on breaking the news to his parents later that evening over dinner. Logan was grateful that his sister was in LA and wouldn't be able to witness the confrontation that was bound to ensue. He would be able to handle Shera, but Mitchum would be another matter entirely. Logan had always felt like he owed something to his father, a kind of debt that he wouldn't be able to repay no matter how many years he spent in his service or how much he tried to please the man. With the evening he was expecting outrage, accusations, excommunication at the least. He wasn't wrong.

--

Logan didn't even get a chance to break his news to his parents. Upon arrival Mitchum strode into the drawing room like a lion with a territorial issue. The maid hurried to take his coat but he was too intent on talking with his son to notice.

"What is this I hear about you resigning?"

Shera looked up from the bit of ash that clung to her cigarette, wearing a look of astoundment. "What?"

He took a long swallow from his drink and set it down on the surface of one of his mother's prized end tables. "What you heard is most likely true. I faxed it over to Howard this morning."

"For christsake—"

"Please, Dad," Logan started, but he was cut off.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Logan?" Mitchum's face had turned into a blotchy shade of eggplant.

"It doesn't matter what I'm dong because you don't have to worry about it. I've got a plan for myself, for once, I'm doing what I'd like to do instead of what I'm ordered."

"Insanity!" He spit out, well beyond frustrated. "I've spent years training you and grooming you to take over the company when I retire. You're an heir, you can't just abandon your position in this family—"

"I'm not 'abandoning' anything," Logan said evenly. If he had learned anything from his encounters with Jess and Von it was that clarity and disinterest were easier positions than those of impassioned rows or arguments. "I'm going back to school to get my PhD. You won't have to pay for anything, I can manage on my own."

"But Logan," he tried to argue, "there isn't anyone else that I can use as a replacement. There isn't enough time to find a substitute for when I'm planned to retire—"

"Bullshit," Logan replied. "There are plenty of men who are better suited for that job than myself, much more competent men than I can ever aspire to be. If I wasn't your son I never would have landed that position in the first place," he explained coolly. "Give it to Dorian Hemerling. He'd be perfect for it."

"Logan, be reasonable." Mitchum was clutching at straws, quickly loosing ground.

"I am," Logan said, paying no attention to the look of disgrace that both his parents wore.

--

Stepping out into the hall, Logan began to put some distance between himself and the Admissions Office. He answered his phone on the first ring.

"Huntzburger."

"Hello, It's Dr. Mabel." Her cool voice almost sounded like liquid silk. He felt a few muscles in his neck tighten at the sound of it.

"Oh, hey Von."

"I was hoping to catch you away from home. You see, I've just received a nasty phone call from your mother. She's cancelled your sessions with me."

His blonde eyebrows shot up. "Did she? I wasn't aware that she had the authority to do that."

"Technically she does," Von explained, "seeing as she's the one who paid for them."

"I've actually been meaning to talk with you about that," Logan said, "can we meet for lunch or something? I have another appointment to get to."

They made plans; afterwards Logan called the restaurant to arrange reservations. He hadn't taken a girl out in months, not since his rendezvous with Candice in San Francisco.

Starting the engine of his borrowed car, Logan drove with purpose, knowing precisely where his destination was.

--

Removing his hat, Logan spoke with the hostess and followed her to his table, holding his hands awkwardly by his sides. He'd gotten held up at his last interview and he wasn't surprised to see Von already seated. Taking the chair opposite her, he removed his kaki trenchcoat and unfastened the few buttons on his coal gray suit jacket. Loosening his ice-blue tie, he tugged at the starched, white collar of his shit and ordered a glass of water.

Von's hands were placed delicately in her lap, properly. After the waitress had disappeared Logan turned and regarded her thoughtfully.

"Thank you for meeting me," he began, formal and polite.

"It wasn't any trouble," she said, "my two o'clock appointment cancelled so I'm free for some time." Von unfolded her napkin and spread it across her lap with the clean fold facing her waist. "I believe we need to discuss the future of your therapy sessions."

The waitress brought Logan's water, placing it on the linen tablecloth carefully. He took a few slow gulps while Von squeezed lemon in her tea, adding artificial sweetener and leaving the teaspoon in the glass.

"I've done some thinking," Logan said, "and I feel like I've gained all that I can from our sessions."

Von seemed to expect this. "Is your decision based on the feelings of your family?"

"No," he answered. "I know I didn't see you for very long, but I think I've learned all I'll be able to."

"Many patients feel that way after a few sessions. But I must respect your decision, however you choose. If you ever wish to resume therapy I will be happy to comply."

He nodded and drank some more, his throat scratchy. He'd done so much talking in the past few days. "I think we should continue to see each other."

Von raised her pale yellow eyebrows questioningly, "On what terms?"

"As friends."

She laughed. It was a cool musical sound that rang like a clear bell. "You can't be serious, Mr. Huntzburger."

Logan diverted his eyes, miffed. "Why do you say that?"

"Because," she explained, "you don't really want to be my friend. I think it would be perfectly honest of me to say that you don't even like me."

"That's not true. I like you fine, but there are times when I . . . resent you."

Von drank from her glass of tea. "That's understandable. I see past your illusions and you dislike that, most of the time. There may come a point in your life where you'll seek that kind of companionship, but I don't think you actually want that at the moment."

He shrugged, attempting to let her words roll off his shoulders.

"We can remain in contact; you have my number. I'm curious to see if you progress on your own."

They placed their orders while the restaurant's other compatriots dined quietly.

"As a point of interest," Von said, "what are the real names of the people you told me about? Your ex-girlfriend and her fiancé."

Logan looked at her with an odd expression. "I used their real names."

She seemed a bit surprised by that. "Most people lie about that sort of thing. I can usually tell, but I thought I'd ask."

"I was talking about Rory Gilmore, do you know the Gilmores? I thought you might. And Jess Mariano."

"Oh," Von said, "that Jess."

"What? Do you know him, too?" Logan asked, annoyed. It was one thing for Rory to choose him, but it would be absolutely horrific if Von had done so as well.

"I've met him, yes. Wipe that look off your face. It was at a party some years ago, when he was still obscure. Mr. Mariano was, and still is, good friends with one of my old Professors, Regina Crawft. She taught a class on philosophy in literature, she was a fabulous teacher. He did a lecture in her class once and then I met him in person at one of Regina's parties. He's a good orator, which I found surprising because most people tell me he's rather quiet."

"He's a lot like you," Logan said, "concise, detached." Cold, he thought.

"Oh no," she corrected, "he's much too guarded."

Their food came, ending conversation for a few moments while they ate in relative silence. Logan hadn't been all that hungry but he was grateful for the steaming bowl of French onion soup that had been placed before him. He felt rejuvenated at the thought that Von didn't have a strong opinion on Jess, something that was oddly comforting to Logan.

They talked a bit more while waiting for the check, speaking of mostly unimportant things. As Logan was about to leave Von brought up something that had been on her mind during the course of their meal.

"Would you please call me once you get something finalized with graduate school?"

He looked at Von, at the slight curl to her Dutch boy haircut, her metallic eyes and sharp shoulders. "Of course," Logan answered, collecting his coat and hat, "You'll be the first to know."

--

A/N: Reviews are always appreciated.