Nine

It was less than 4 hours after Logan and Rory had confirmed their relationship to the public world and Logan officially had no less than 300 text messages, most from numbers that had never even been saved in his phone, telling him how wonderful it was or, how awful he was, with not much in between.

Even his father had called to offer him a boon of congratulations, obviously impressed with the ground work Logan had laid the evening before that had everyone chattering about the romance in the making. The jury was still out on that commendation, unsure if applause from the Dark Lord was ever a good thing, but for the moment, he seemed to be off the hook. Logan was torn, a mental struggle between wanting to save his own ass and, truth be told, wanting to shield Rory.

Rory was not made for this world, that much he could see, and it wasn't that she didn't belong. Even with the bravest of intentions, the night before had revealed just how delicate Rory's emotional state was. After breaking down at the mere mention of her mother, Logan couldn't help but wonder what exactly had transpired after Lorelei's death that allowed Rory to be shanghaied by her grandparents. Grandparents who seemed more concerned with outward appearances than her actual emotional state. That alone would be rough on anyone, let alone a grieving daughter. Despite it all happening years ago and the calm, proud, strength Rory showed the world, Logan knew that underneath it all, appearances could be deceiving.

Even so, he had tried to give Rory an out, offering her a real opportunity to call the whole thing off. Perhaps he should have pushed more, persuaded more, and he was struck with the sudden realization that deep down, he hadn't really wanted her to take him up on it. He immediately felt a twinge of selfishness and guilt.

Here was a girl that, after being surrounded and pressured into something that no one would willingly sign up for, had silently and secretly rebelled. She'd formulated a plan of resistance before Logan had even recovered from the shock of it all. Now that, that was the type of attitude that Logan could appreciate and a person he'd want by his side to help him tame his reputation, even falsely. Particularly, if it meant working one over on his parents.

Still, this was going to be a stretch, especially for her.

Logan had basically his whole life to prepare him for this endeavor. A nice long track record of going to extreme lengths to shirk every familial responsibility that was ever asked of him. He'd been listening to the dynastic plan for his life for as long as he could remember and he had defied it every step of the way. Beginning with the revolving door of boarding schools he'd been sent to and, consequently, kicked out of. Then, when he demanded to take a year off to sail around the world, managing to sink a yacht in the process. Now, culminating in his final escape to Yale and the relative safe distance it currently provided him from all things Huntzberger. Until now. Finishing up at Yale was the end, before everything he'd worked so hard against was finally set into motion, ready or not.

But Rory? This shouldn't be happening to her. She was an innocent victim, in a ridiculous game, all based on the combination of a few last names.

He doubted anyone had ever asked her what she needed, hell, everything he basically knew of her: hopes, dreams, ambitions - was all just a replay of everything that Emily Gilmore had ever spewed his way. Logan couldn't help but wonder what exactly Rory Gilmore-Hayden wanted and found himself increasing curious to find out.

There was a scuffle at his door, followed by some thuds and cursing. Recognizing the diatribe from the hallway, Logan rolled his eyes and went to open the door.

There stood Finn, Colin, and Robert, dressed completely in black, with bowler hats, and carrying a makeshift wooden casket filled with what looked to be lots and lots of whiskey.

Finn slurred first, "We," his arm flailed outward to encompass the group, "have heard you have taken yourself off the market."

"We have come for answers!" demanded Colin, as they marched past him and into the apartment.

"And to offer you our thanks," Robert suggested, "for all the ladies will be forced in our general direction."

The three of them bowed, before unloading the bottles onto the bar, Finn opening one immediately, and Colin lining up shot glass after shot glass.

"Gentleman," Logan laughed, "to what do I owe the honor?"

"Girlfriend," Colin said, puzzled, throwing back a shot.

"Yes," Logan confirmed.

"GirlfriEND," Finn repeated, stressing a different part of the word, tipping his shot back as well.

"Yes," Logan nodded again.

"GIRLfriend," Robert duplicated once more, looking altogether bewildered, his face scrunching as he swallowed.

"Yes!" Logan practically shouted, his head falling against his hand, shaking it ever so slightly as Finn refilled the shot glasses.

"To a girl that is more than a friend," Colin bellowed, raising his glass.

"To a friend that is more than a girl!" quipped Finn, holding his glass in the air.

"More than a girl?" questioned Robert, perplexed, stalling on lifting his glass completely.

"A siren!" shouted Colin!

"A woman," Finn corrected him, in slight reverence, a moment of silence briefly following.

"A smart woman," Robert nodded quietly, holding his glass to the center.

"A rich woman," Colin winked, clinking his glass to Roberts.

"and a beautiful woman," Finn sighed, dreamy eyed, clattering his glass against the other two, before all three took the shot together.

"And surely one you do not deserve!" remarked Colin.

Logan got up, making his way to the couch, "You three are impossible!"

"Impossible, mate?" Finn questioned, pointing his finger at him and yelling. "You, Logan Huntzberger, are at least two shots behind!"

The trio banged their glasses against the counter in quick repetition, creating a noise that sounded a lot like thunder, before refilling their shot glasses yet again.

Finn jumped up onto the coffee table, "'It is better to pass boldly into that other world, in full passion and glory, than to fade and wither dismally with age...'" he declared, as dramatically as possible, raising his glass.

"That is deep," Colin nodded.

"Very deep," Robert agreed, the three taking yet again another shot.

"And misquoted," Logan pointed out, laughing.

Sudden knocking at the door started, Robert sauntering over to answer it, and a steady stream of people began filing in one by one, all dressed in black.

"What is all this?" Logan asked, as Colin and Finn hoisted him up by the arms, maneuvering him over to stand by the coffin they'd propped up against the far wall. From there, they shrugged an oversized, formal black jacket on him, slipped two gold coins in his breast pocket, and attached a boutonniere to his lapel. Then, they handed him a triple shot whiskey.

"Your wake!" Robert shouted over a small group of girls softly sobbing in the corner.

"Mourners!" Colin clamored to get everyone's attention, "line up here to pay your respects to the recently departed!"

"Glasses up!" Colin instructed, "To our brother, Logan!"

"May God be with him," Finn added sarcastically.

"To Logan!" the group cheered, everyone toasting a shot of whiskey in his honor, and everyone, including Logan, drinking it.