AN: Another slightly rewritten chapter, though it isn't much. Thanks to those who have reviewed, it means a lot. Also, I must give a big shout out to RBraquel for her help.
As for the time jumps, there is a reason for them, and a reason why they will continue. So please note the dates.
Disclaimer: I don't own this show nor do I own the film, the scene and the song referenced in this chapter.
Chapter 10: Guitar
New Haven, Connecticut - Late January 2006
Logan frowned as he stared at the strings, his eyes tracing the small coils as he searched his memory. He was attempting to play an old Spanish song he learned as an exchange student in high school, part of the cultural enrichment classes he was required to attend. Initially picking up the guitar in middle school for its popularity attracting girls, Logan found that he had a knack for the instrument. As time went on, he discovered it to be more relaxing than anything, choosing instead to play after a long day rather than attempting to woo a girl he was interested in at the time. When he spent his semester in Spain, he eagerly chose the music class out of the long list of options, earnestly memorizing all the songs he could.
Logan sighed and sat up straighter. There was a part he just wasn't quite getting, though he knew it was there, deep in the recesses of his mind. The earlier phone call with his dad had put him on edge once again. Mitchum had decided that not only would Logan accompany him on more business trips, but he would often call to give Logan an update on the running of the company. Mitchum made thirty minute or longer phone calls at least every other day, ending with a subtle reminder of Logan's upcoming responsibility. Logan longed to simply enjoy the days of his final semester, not dread the passing of every new day because of his destiny.
After the phone call this afternoon, Logan returned home, grabbed his electric out of his stand, and began to play. Each riff echoed his frustrations, the nimble, quick movement of his fingers showing just how preoccupied his mind was. When Rory stopped by his apartment from the newsroom, he finally took a break to eat dinner with her, her presence calming him enough to begin his coursework. She sat on his couch while he sat at his desk, the apartment quiet except for the scratching of pens against the paper. When he was finished with his reading, he went to his closet, drug out the old guitar case and brought it into the living room. He preferred to keep his acoustic hidden behind closed doors, as he didn't trust his friends not to damage the instrument during a raucous party. It was now almost ten, and he had been playing for the last thirty minutes, but he just couldn't get this one part. Giving up on the lost notes, he looked over at the couch, watching Rory focus on the book in her hands.
When he found out that she had returned to Yale, he was proud of her for finding the courage within herself, despite his father's cruel words. Rory was right back where she belonged, her excitement at being back in the classroom not lost on Logan. She had been doubling up on her coursework, determined to graduate on time. He knew she would, too. Rory was going places, he just knew it. Her tenacity would ensure that she would go far, and he couldn't wait to watch her achieve her dreams.
Logan smiled to himself as he watched her twirl a hair around her finger, chewing her bottom lip as she wrote a note on the page. They had reconciled almost two weeks ago, and they were slowly building up trust again. After that night in the newsroom, they shared several nights discussing their feelings and just what went wrong before, choosing to make their relationship work again. Now she spent many evenings after school in his apartment, the two of them just content to spend time together. Last fall before their breakup, many nights had ended just like this, with Rory reading on the couch while Logan played his guitar. The only difference was now Rory was doing her coursework, just not reading for fun anymore. As much as Logan appreciated this change, he was glad that some things in their relationship had remained the same.
Pulling his attention away from Rory, he plucked at the strings again, choosing a different song to play. It was soft and gentle, not enough to bother Rory's concentration, but just a little to serenade her while she studied. He knew she enjoyed this type of music, calling it "brain food."
"Shouldn't you be playing something all young and angsty like 'Creep'?" Rory interrupted, glancing up from her book.
Logan frowned. "Why would I be angsty? I don't have anything to be angsty about. I've got you again, remember?" he ended with a wink.
Her lips twitched. "Shame. I was looking forward to Radiohead." She focused back on her book, Logan detecting a small smile hidden behind her hair.
"You don't like it when I play these old guitar pieces? Not the most contemporary, I know. But I like to mix things up, impress you with my repertoire and talent."
"If you want to impress me, play some Rolling Stones," she said with a straight face, nodding towards his electric in the stand.
Logan smirked as he waved his fingers. "Eh, I could, but these old classical songs really give me a workout." Rory's brows furrowed in thought, and Logan sat waiting for her catch on to his slightly inappropriate joke.
"Now you're just being dirty," she said after a moment, shooting him a look of annoyance. His grin widened. "Stop it. God, what an ego," she said, rolling her eyes at his immaturity.
"You love my ego!" he replied aghast.
"I do not!" Rory looked alarmed, though Logan could see the mocking indignation in her eyes.
"Admit it. You were first attracted to my ego."
Rory focused once more on her book. "I will admit no such thing," she replied flatly.
"I still say you loved that I debated you in that hallway when we first met," Logan said with a joking lilt to his voice. It was a common argument between them, the moment when they had first fallen for one another. "I had you hooked," he said leaning towards her, wishing for her to look up at him.
"No comment." Rory flipped another page of her book.
Logan sighed audibly. "I just will have to keep breaking you down 'til you admit it," he teased. He looked once more at the guitar in his lap, his fingers finding the strings and plucking away. One day he hoped to get a real classical guitar and learn the correct way to play, as the steel strings left behind much of the beauty of the song. Maybe he'd learn the banjo too. Now that would be amusing. He bet he could get Finn to take lessons with him. He could just imagine Mitchum's face as Logan brought out the banjo at dinner, Mitchum's face growing redder as Shira despaired that her house was turning into a scene from Deliverance.
"Can't you just play something I know?" Rory interrupted once more, bringing Logan out of his daydreams, his fingers stalling on the strings.
"Why, is this distracting you?" he asked, worried that it was breaking her concentration.
"No, it's just too fancy. Play something simple, something I know." His concern must have shown for she added, "I do like to listen to music when I read. And you know I love to hear you play."
"Something simple and something you know, huh?"
"Please," she requested with a smile. He returned her smile and she flipped the pages of her book, bringing her legs onto the couch and folding them under her body. She settled into the cushions and leaned against the side pillow, looking at ease as her eyes darted across the page. He watched her, trying to think of a song to play for her. He looked over at the CD rack, briefly glancing at the names of artists stacked upon each other, but nothing immediately came to mind. What could he play? Rory certainly liked many different types of music. He grew distracted though, his mind turning away from melodies back to Rory. He'd felt happy and relaxed in these last two weeks, glad he was able to win her back. Had it really been almost a year since they first kissed? Even though it scared him then, he was glad Rory took the initiative at her grandparents' vow renewal. Logan, terrified as he was of commitment, took a chance with her. He was glad he did because he didn't know dating and loving someone could be this fulfilling. Though to be fair, he supposed, they just had to find each other first.
"I've got just the song," Logan stated finally, Rory glancing at him briefly in acknowledgment. He went over the song briefly in his mind, trying to remember the chords he played once before in a moment of weakness when he was alone and missing her. He strummed the guitar like it was played in the original version, hoping she would pick up on the familiar notes.
"What is this?" Rory asked as he finished the first verse, looking over at him in confusion.
"Just listen," he urged before he began to play the second verse.
"It doesn't sound familiar," she said when it was over, shaking her head before looking back down at her book.
"I can't believe you don't know what this is," he gasped. Logan shook his head, flabbergasted. "Frankly, I'm offended."
"Why would you be offended? It's not like it's your song," Rory asked incredulously, surprised at his reaction.
"But in a way, it is," he hinted, hoping she would catch his meaning.
"That makes no sense. Did you write it?"
"Nope," Logan answered, popping the p before smiling at her.
"Then you'll have to explain."
"Listen, Ace." Logan played the last verse again, putting more emphasis on the minor chords. He watched her eagerly, looking for any sign of recognition.
Rory shrugged her shoulders. "Still nothing."
Logan sighed loudly, feigning annoyance. "We're going to have to do this the hard way, aren't we?" He unwound the guitar strap from his shoulder, placing the guitar back in its case. He stood and made his way over to the couch, stopping in front of Rory. "Get up," he requested with a smile, offering her his hand.
Rory glanced at his hand before looking up at him with a frown. "What are you doing?"
"Put down the book, Ace."
"I don't understand," she said confused.
Logan rolled his eyes, grinning at her. He took the book out of her hands, placing her pen inside to mark her page before setting it on the couch. "Just, come on. Play along, okay?" He grabbed both of her hands, gently pulling her to her feet. He backed several steps away from the couch, guiding her along. Once he reached the center of the living area, he took her one hand and placed it on his shoulder, letting it go to grasp her waist. He drew her close and began to sway, his hand on her waist bringing her with him.
"Logan, are we dancing? Why are we dancing?" Rory asked as she leaned her head back, trying to look in his eyes.
"Shhh," he replied with a whisper, pulling her close once more, his hand moving from her waist to her lower back. Logan began to hum the melody in her ear, still swaying with the beat.
"You're humming," she stated, still bewildered.
He ignored her, choosing instead to hum the second verse.
"Hey, this is 'Moon River'!" she exclaimed, realization dawning. She pulled back from his embrace again to try to meet his eye. "Why are you not singing the lyrics?" she asked, curious.
Logan paused his hums to answer. "I don't really know the lyrics. I just know the tune." He brought her closer once more and resumed his humming, trying to reach the end of the song.
"This is nice," she said after a moment, talking over his hum. She threaded her fingers with his, and he brought their entwined hands closer to his chest. "I can't believe you remember the song from our first dance," she mumbled into his shoulder, awe resonating in her voice. Although he was not able to see her face, he knew Rory was grinning, the happiness radiating from her.
"Despite what you may think, Ace, I remember a lot of things about us," he said after he finished the final verse. He paused before he added jokingly, "and it's not every day that I get to dance with the best man. Now that's memorable."
"Oh, shut it," she replied cheekily. "This is so cheesy," she whispered, running her left hand gently on his shoulder. He gently squeezed her right hand in return.
"Hey, Valentine's day is around the corner. Got to step up my game, right?" Logan started to hum the song from the beginning, the two of them still dancing in front of the couch.
Rory sighed in contentment and laid her head upon his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. "Mom loves this movie," she murmured, before she hummed along with him. He kissed her head briefly before resting his head against hers, smelling the perfume in her hair. "Two drifters, off to see the world. There's such a lot of world to see," Rory whispered into his hair, adding the lyrics to match his smiled, bringing her closer.
They continued to dance together long after he had finished humming, both content to let the moment last. A year ago, he was nervous, trying to keep his distance when surrounded by romantic couples, despite what his heart wanted. Now he couldn't get close enough to her; it felt unnatural to not touch her in some way. As he hugged her close to his body, Logan marveled at his good fortune. After a time, he finally lifted his head, the action causing Rory to look up at him. His hand on her lower back stroked the dip of her spine. "You don't really want to go back to reading now, do you?" he asked quietly, his eyebrows raised.
Rory's eyes sparkled as she played with the hair at the nape of his neck. "No," she replied with a smile. "I think I'm done for the evening."
New York - Mid-January 2016
How in the world could people do this to themselves on a daily basis?
Rory had been jogging for only twenty minutes, and she felt like she could die. Stupid new year resolutions. She was determined that this year would be a brand new start of it, to quote one famous New Yorker. The idea came to her as she binged Grey's Anatomy the other night, back when Meredith and Cristina ran in the park to escape their troubles. "Endorphins!" Meredith cried. "They're mood elevators!" Rory put down the twentieth or so Twizzler of the evening, frowning at the screen. If jogging meant endorphins, that could help her sour mood. Her personal life was a mess, but if there was one thing Rory could do, it was control her body. Well, as long as there were no stupid boys in the way. Damn, she didn't need to think about her love life when she was struggling for breath.
Mood elevators, my ass. The only thing she wanted to elevate was the pigeon in her way, kicking the foul bird into the sky.
But still, wasn't it nice to take a jog midday in Central Park? This is what New Yorkers did. It certainly is what Carolina did. Her friend, excited at the prospect of Rory joining her on her daily runs, dragged Rory out to buy fashionable running gear. Rory did have a good time; she loved shopping, plus she got this cute little iPhone armband so she could listen to her music. All of it certainly would come to good use.
Oh, who was she kidding? Rory was never going to do this again. She decided to go out today because it was Wednesday, she had finished her articles, and she couldn't stay cooped up any longer. Central Park was always beautiful in the winter. It wasn't snowing (yet) and the activity meant that she wasn't cold. So what if it was gray and dreary? She supposed it was better in the summer, yet then she would have to run in ninety-degree weather. Bleh.
Okay, five more minutes. Or maybe just to the top of that hill. Rory could do this. If she could bust her ass to get into three Ivies, she could certainly conquer a hill.
Left, right. Left, right.
Rory groaned as her calves burned. Maybe she couldn't do this. Cristina was right – Meredith was a sadist. And a slutty mistress.
Don't go there, Rory.
See, this was another problem with running. It left her alone with her stupid thoughts. Rory didn't want to think, she wanted to ignore everything. Exercise was the devil's work.
Left, right. Left, right.
Rory couldn't do this. She was going to collapse on the pavement. Maybe the other runners would be so kind as to trample her like the wildebeest did to Mufasa during the stampede.
Okay, one more minute and she was calling off this dumb, idiotic plan to better herself.
And then, a miracle. The ring came through her earbuds, stopping the upbeat music Rory had chosen earlier. She ran onto the grass, catching her breath as she rested her palms on her thighs. Rory caught the call just before it went to voicemail, eager for the distraction.
"This is Rory," she greeted breathlessly.
"Ms. Gilmore? Oh, I'm so glad I could finally get a hold of you!" answered the man.
"Hi, Mr. Morrison," she replied meekly. Why didn't she glance at the caller ID? Oh, that's right, she was trying to be a runner. Just more proof exercise was evil. "How are you?"
"I'm fine, Ms. Gilmore. And yourself?"
"Oh, I'm great," she answered, finally noticing she'd stepped in dog poop on her run. "Just grand," she muttered, grimacing as she swiped her foot on the grass.
"Oh, I'm so glad. I've had so much trouble trying to reach you!"
"Er-"
"Did you get any of my voicemails?"
"Uh, yeah. I was just, you know traveling. All over, out of the country on business. Busy, busy, busy! Life of a journalist, you know how it is!" she said, her tone upbeat.
"Yes, your grandfather often spoke about how busy you were. I understand it can be very demanding." He paused. "And may I just begin in offering my sincerest condolences. Your grandfather was a great, kind man and an even better friend. We were all better off knowing him."
"Thank you, sir," she whispered, the death of her grandfather still fresh.
"Now you must know the reason I called." At this Rory frowned; she knew what was coming. "Well, I guess if you've read my letters you know about it already."
"Um, about that. I've moved. I have everything forwarded to my mother's house. So, um, I don't know." Rory walked to a nearby bench, preparing herself for the following conversation.
"Oh, okay," he began before pausing for a moment. "Well, you remember your grandfather entrusted me to help you with your trust. To make it last as long as I could while you occasionally dipped into it."
"Yes, I remember. And you've been really helpful to me! I've appreciated all of your advice," she said gratefully.
"See that's the thing, Ms. Gilmore. I don't know how much more I can do."
"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.
"I mean, that there's not much left," he answered slowly, breaking the news gently.
Rory frowned. "I don't understand, how could that have happened?"
"You've taken out quite a bit of money from your investments through the years, especially within this last year."
She rested her head in her palms, hunching over in the chair. "Wow," she whispered. "I didn't think it had gotten that bad."
"That's why I've been trying to reach you for so long Ms. Gilmore. I know this comes as a surprise. I want to help you. You're still freelancing, correct?"
"Um, yeah. That's my full-time job, well, kind of one. I write when I have the opportunity."
"Can you find another part-time job, perhaps something still in the writing world? I know we've talked about it before. It doesn't have to be something you desperately want, but something just to help you build up your savings again in the meantime. It will be more stable than this freelancing gig."
"Uh, actually, I've received some offers!"
"That's fantastic news, my dear."
"I've just been worried about a new job taking up too much of my time when I could use it for my more hardcore freelancing topics."
"It's all about budgeting in time and money, Ms. Gilmore. I'm sure if you work hard you can still write what you want to write. Your grandfather told me how well you juggled being an editor while at Yale. I have no doubt you could do this too."
"I know," she replied meekly, scuffing her shoe on the grass. "Hey, speaking of budgeting, I moved out of my apartment! So I'm not paying rent. Saving loads that way."
"Really? That explains why your mail is getting forwarded. I guess I should start sending all mail to your mother's then, to make sure you see it.
"Mmhmm." Mr. Morrison tried to be upbeat and curious, but she knew he was very serious. "Um, by the way, I'm writing a book now, you know? With a famous author. It's in the early stages, but I expect it to go far. And you know, that means advances, then later on, residuals."
"I'm happy for you, Ms. Gilmore, I am," he said sincerely.
"Thanks, I – "
"But I do want to stress," he interrupted, "that I worry. You've been using this money to keep yourself afloat for a long time, and soon that will no longer be possible. It will be out of my hands."
"I understand," she responded quietly.
"I wish only the best for you, Ms. Gilmore. Call me anytime if you have any questions or need any help, okay? Richard was a great friend of mine, and I'd be remiss if I didn't try to help his granddaughter when she needed it."
"Okay," she whispered. "Thanks, Mr. Morrison."
"Anytime. I look forward to hearing from you soon."
The call ended, and Rory stared out in front of her, absentmindedly watching the people pass in front of her bench. Mr. Morrison confirmed what she already knew: that her money was almost gone. She had avoided his voicemails and letters because opening one meant facing reality. She wasn't good with facing reality lately. Why did she even get herself into the mess in the first place? If only she had done things differently, she could be like her other friends, maybe not doing exactly what she wanted but still succeeding. She'd be stable.
Well, Rory wasn't giving up on the dream just yet. This book was going to work. If she couldn't get it done, then maybe she'd have to rethink her plans. But for now – this was the time to get serious.
New York City - Mid-February 2009
"I apologize, Ms. Gilmore. Your portfolio is impressive for your age, yes, but we're just not hiring any full-time writers now. However, if you ever want to submit articles independently for consideration, I would love to see what you can offer."
Rory leaned back against the hard seat, the editor's words from earlier repeating in her mind. It had been her sixth in-person interview since arriving in New York, each one ending in a similar result as today's - with rejection.
"We're just not hiring."
"Things are not going very well in this business, as I'm sure you know."
"To be frank, Ms. Gilmore, I only took this meeting as a courtesy to Hugo."
So many different rejections, all saying the same thing: we just can't hire you. Rory had already been to one TV station, hoping she could get on as a writer there. She was quickly going through the list Hugo had given her, the amount of opportunities dwindling quickly, for some people wouldn't even make time to see her.
The subway car lurched forward and jostled Rory, the sudden movement causing her to hit her head against the window. She wiped her forehead with a grimace. The glass was greasy and the gunk was on her face. She'd have to take a shower once she got back to her hotel. Rory turned up the volume on her iPod as the car made a high-pitched whir, the wheels scratching against the rails as the car raced down the tunnel. The sound echoed her internal screams of frustration. Two years of following Obama on the campaign trail, only for Hugo to let her go after the inauguration.
"I'm sorry, Rory. This is not how I wanted it to end, you have to know it. Times are tight, and cuts have to be made. I hope you know you'll always have a friend in me. Just call, and I'll be sure to give you a stellar recommendation. You're going places, you've got the talent. You'll get through this just fine, I know it."
Hugo was apologetic, sure, but she knew as a rookie reporter that she'd be one of the first to be let go. He just had so many veterans and friends working for him, he had to make a decision in the end. Rory didn't blame him at all, she knew he was in a corner. He let her go with a list of contacts, telling her to go to New York like she'd always wanted. So Rory stayed in D.C. until the end of January, making a brief visit to Stars Hollow before heading to New York and pounding the pavement, determined to use his list to her advantage. Phone call after phone call, canceled interviews and denials later, and here Rory was with no game plan or direction. She was slowly running out of options, and she needed a job and money fast. How prudent of her to choose a career that was entering a downfall! Thoroughly dejected, Rory willed herself not to cry in the stinky subway car, her finger skipping to an upbeat song to improve her mood.
For years Rory dreamed of traveling all over, seeing the world, sharing her stories with others. Of course, she accomplished some of it, right? She saw the world? Well, if you counted Montana and the cornfields of Iowa as seeing the world. And boy, I'm really seeing the world right now, she thought glumly to herself, catching a man across the aisle pick his nose and wipe his finger on the seat. Gagging slightly, she faced forward again, staring at the back of the chair in front of her. So what? She saw middle America. It was different than Connecticut. She learned about people's real struggles firsthand, not just from learning about inequality in a classroom. Rory watched a great statesman inspire people, encourage them, make them hope for a better future. It was easy to get lost in the optimism.
The car arrived at her stop, Rory standing quickly to exit out the door with the other passengers. As she walked amongst the crowd, she pondered the lessons she learned from the campaign trail. Stay optimistic, realize that you have the power to change your future. You only need to believe in yourself. So what if she hadn't really seen the world just yet? She'd followed Obama to his historic presidency. She'd had a job so many journalism graduates would kill to have. What a stepping stone, a big shining beacon on her resume! This journalism crisis would right itself in the end. In the meantime though, she might try this whole freelance thing. Hadn't these editors already encouraged her, as well as Hugo? She was young and lacking in responsibilities. She didn't have a family to worry about. She could afford to be a little untethered now. She'd make New York her home base. If she needed extra money, she'd dip into her trust fund for assistance. That's what it was there for, right? She could use it to supplement her income until something more stable came along.
As Rory reached the top of the subway exit stairs, she deeply breathed in the city air and sighed. Her cheap suit and jacket from H&M did little to block the cold, though Rory didn't care. She was right where she was meant to be. This freelancing thing was the right plan, she just knew it. She'd work hard for several years, getting her name out there. She'd have papers begging her to work for them. Then Rory would move up, be well-known. No more buses, she'd be traveling in style, flying first class! With a jump in her step, she walked down Fifth Avenue, confident once more. Time for a little shopping. She had to dress for the job she wanted, dress for success. And success would be there, waiting to greet her. Work hard, write well and she'd make it. The future was there, just waiting for her over the horizon.
New York - Mid-January 2016
Rory knocked, shifting her feet as she waited for Carolina to open the door. Earlier in the day, she received another rejection for an article, and her mood was in the toilet. Her friend had been trying to get Rory to go out with her and her new boyfriend for weeks now, although Rory kept trying to find excuses not to join. As much as she loved her friend, Rory had no desire to be the third wheel and think about her own messed up love life at the same time. Today when faced with another failure, Rory finally acquiesced, thinking that the dinner would lift her spirits and occupy her mind. Plus, apparently this guy was paying, and Rory could benefit from the free food right about now.
"Rory, I'm so glad you finally decided to come out with us," Carolina greeted as she led Rory inside. Only one eye sported liner, and her hair was up in a messy bun.
"It was no problem." Rory frowned. "Am I early? You're not ready yet."
"No, I told you to come here early," she replied as she led Rory back into her bedroom. She picked up her eyeliner and continued her task. "I wanted you to get here, help ease my nerves. I need you to help me pick out an outfit."
Rory sat on the edge of her friend's bed, watching her friend work from the reflection in the mirror. "You're the one that works in fashion, not me. Now if you need some hair help, I'm your girl. I'm great with pigtails," she teased. Carolina ignored her comment and proceeded to apply her lipstick. "Wow," Rory said in surprise, watching her friend. "You must really like him."
Carolina sighed as she capped her lipstick. "Maybe, yes. I don't know," she answered indecisively. She turned around to lean against the vanity counter. "He's different. I just want to make a good impression."
"Is it serious?" Rory asked, curious about the answer. Rory had known Carolina for years, and her friend never acted so nervous about a dinner.
"No, not really," she answered with a shrug of her shoulders. "We're having fun. But he's a laugh," she smiled, starry-eyed. "Totally unlike all the guys I dated in college. Worldly, too." She turned into her closet, rifling through the hangers. "I just need a second opinion. I need to make sure that I'm not building him up in my head."
"Hey, I get it. Don't need to explain any more to me."
"Will this look okay?" Carolina asked, holding the hangers out in front of her body.
"You look great." Her friend smiled and turned back to her closet, going through her shoe box. "So, what's the deal with this guy? How did you meet?" Rory questioned to her friend's back.
"We met at that party we went to back in November, remember? He's some sort of entrepreneur," she answered as she stood up holding a pair of boots. "He owned the club. He must do pretty well for himself too cause he has a hell of an apartment. He's got the funniest and weirdest things in there! It is a true bachelor pad."
"But is he stable?" Rory asked with a frown, unsure if she liked what she heard.
"I don't know," Carolina said as she released her hair and grabbed her brush. "I think he came from money. We haven't talked a lot about our backgrounds."
"You know you'll have to if you want this to go any further," Rory stated.
"Yes, but like I said, it's not serious, at least not yet." Carolina sighed and stopped brushing her hair, meeting Rory's eyes in the reflection of the mirror. "Rory, I can't explain it."
"Try me."
Carolina grinned and shook her head slightly. "He makes me laugh. I enjoy myself when I'm with him. It's so easy just to be... me. I feel like everything else can just fall into place. You understand, don't you?"
"Yeah, I do," Rory replied softly, remembering her own past. "Listen, I'm going to get a drink while you get dressed." Rory left her friend, walking into the kitchen to grab a glass from the cabinet. As she held the glass under the tap, she spotted the recent InStyle magazine on the counter. Flipping open the cover, she went to the table of contents, searching for the page number of her friend's recent article. Rory knew Carolina enjoyed working for the magazine, even if Rory found some the topics a tad banal. A graduate of Columbia, her friend certainly possessed the intelligence and talent to go to a major publication. Rory just feared her friend was wasting away her good years.
The buzzer rang and Carolina rushed to the speaker to answer it. Rory was still focused on the magazine so she paid little attention to the voice on the machine, thinking it sounded odd but otherwise nothing to worry over. Her friend paced back and forth in front of the door, tugging on her sleeves, and Rory shook her head at her anxiety. A knock on the door and the guy was there, Carolina greeting him with a laugh.
"Hello to you, too," the male answered in a foreign accent. Rory frowned at the familiar tone and looked toward the door. Rory froze in shock, flabbergasted at her friend's mysterious boyfriend.
"I'm glad you made it," Carolina said with a kiss to his cheek, pulling him into the room before closing the door.
"Of course I did. I wanted to meet this friend of yours."
"Finn?" Rory finally gasped when she found her voice.
"Rory?" Finn replied in astonishment. His eyebrows were almost hidden behind his mop of hair.
"You two already know each other?" asked Carolina in disbelief.
"Yes."
"Kind of," they answered at the same time.
Carolina looked between the two of them, frowning at their reactions. "Okay, do you two know each other or not?"
Rory shifted her feet while Finn stared at the floor. "We went to Yale together. Finn was in the class above me," Rory finally answered after a pause.
Finn looked quickly across the room at Rory, before looking down at Carolina. "Like Rory said. We ran in the same circles. Knew some common people. Nice to see you again, Rory," he greeted with a nod in her direction.
"Likewise, Finn. How's life been treating you?" Rory asked flatly, still stunned at the turn of events.
"Good, and you?"
"You know me. Always trying to be ready for anything life throws at me," she replied with a grin. Finn's eyes narrowed in question, his head tilted to the side.
"This is so great!" Carolina exclaimed, unaware of the tension between her two friends. "Here I was so worried. This will just make dinner that much easier," she said with a clap of her hands, grinning between the two of them.
Finn looked down at Carolina with a smile. "Come on, let's go," he said, touching her arm. "You'll have to explain to me how you two know each other, too."
"Of course! Let me grab my coat. I left it on my bed. Be right back." Carolina left the room, leaving the two of them behind. Rory bit her lip, wishing she declined the invitation to come out tonight.
"Well, that explains why you were at the party," Finn said, breaking the silence. Rory stared at him in confusion, wondering if he meant the party in November, but even then, how would he even know she was there? She opened up her mouth to ask, but her friend re-entered the room, rushing them out the door and to the restaurant.
Thirty minutes later, the three of them sat in a booth at a nearby sports bar, waiting for their meals. Rory was quiet, playing with her napkin, preferring to listen to her friends talk. Carolina spoke animatedly, regaling them about a petty argument between two of her colleagues.
"Sounds very Devil Wears Prada," Rory finally said, smiling at her friend over the table.
Carolina rolled her eyes. "Kind of, but my boss is nowhere near as cool as Meryl Streep," she joked, reaching for her glass.
"It could be worse," Finn said casually. "You could be working for Gordon Gecko," he announced, smiling when the girls chuckled. "So Rory," he said as he lifted his glass to take a sip. "What is it you do now?"
"I'm a writer," Rory replied, stopping herself from getting annoyed. You know this, she thought to herself.
"Anywhere I know?" asked Finn, feigning interest.
"Freelancing. I'm anywhere and everywhere."
"It's true," interjected Carolina. "She's always traveling. I have to say, I'm a bit jealous."
Finn nodded in interest. "Interesting. Any places I know?"
Rory paused, unsure how to answer. "Oh, she goes all over the country. She flies to Europe a lot too." Carolina answered enthusiastically. Rory clenched her fist, trying not to kick her friend under the table. Finn didn't need to know that much about her.
"Sounds wicked. Must get to meet a lot of cool people, right Rory?" Finn asked.
"A fair bit," Rory muttered, reaching for her glass. Her friends chattered among themselves again, Rory thankful that she had nothing to add.
"Well, I'm going to head to the ladies before our food gets here," Carolina announced after a lull in the conversation. She slid out of her seat with a smile, before shooting Rory a large, excited grin as she passed by her side.
The silence at the table was deafening, especially when surrounded by the other loud patrons. Finn stared at Rory across the table, his expression flat. Rory bit her lip, searching for something to say to break the awkwardness. "Nice place," she commented, looking around the restaurant.
He nodded, shifting his body slightly on the bench.
"So you and Caro?"
He blinked, but his unnerving stare remained.
Giving up, Rory reached for her Coke and rolled her eyes in annoyance. If Finn was going to be so stubborn, she wasn't going to make an effort to try to engage him. She'd behave for Carolina's sake. Hopefully, this dinner would be finished soon, and she could be on her way.
"I know you've been seeing him again," he stated matter-of-factly, the suddenness causing Rory to choke on her drink. She coughed, shocked by his statement.
"I didn't take Logan as one to gossip," she said when the coughing abated, her eyebrows raised.
"He doesn't," Finn replied, his head slanted to the side. "That has never changed. You should remember that."
Even though she was slightly confused by his admission, she scoffed in reply. "I don't know what he's been telling you, but rest assured, everything's fine between us."
Finn sat up straighter, watching her with a curious expression. "That's the problem," crossing his arms. "He hasn't told me anything."
"Well then, it seems like he's decided that the situation doesn't concern you," she ended with a glare, hoping to end the conversation. The last thing she wanted to do today was discuss her non-relationship with Finn, who apparently just knew somehow that she was still seeing Logan. She hadn't told anyone of their reunion in November, and she doubted he would too. Especially when she considered their new circumstances.
Finn leaned against the table, staring at the grains in the wood. "Look," Finn began after a pause, sighing before he continued. "Just… be careful with Logan."
Rory's eyes narrowed. "Your friend can make his own damned decisions about his life," she said, her voice steely. "He's proven that again and again."
He looked up at her then, his eyes sad. "I know," Finn replied solemnly, his eyes not leaving hers. "That's what I'm afraid of." He continued to stare at her for a long moment, Rory growing uncomfortable at the seriousness in his expression. He finally sat back with a smile, a grin plastered on his face as he looked behind her.
"I'm back lovelies!" greeted Carolina cheerily as she slid back into the booth next to Finn. "Miss me?" she asked with a smile, oblivious to the tension at the table. "We've talked all this time about life, but we haven't covered just what I've been dying to know," she began with a coy smile at the both of them.
Rory recognized her friend's look; this could go nowhere good. "Um, what do you mean?" Rory asked, trying to hide her nervousness.
"Finn, you'll have to tell me what Rory was like at Yale. I just have this vision of her from back then, and she's not that forthcoming about her past."
"Well, my dear," Finn answered, throwing an arm around Carolina's shoulders. "I'll be happy to oblige. But here's the thing, I didn't really know our dear Rory that well," he said, looking apologetic, without sparing a glance at Rory across the table.
"Really? I would have thought since you said you hung out with the same people-"
"Yes, that is true," he interrupted. "We never talked often one on one, I mean. I just remember she was very focused on her career and was extremely involved in her studies. And she wasn't really one to party that often," he said matter-of-factly. Carolina's eyes widened in agreement.
"Funnily enough, Finn was exactly the opposite," Rory interjected a bit harshly, peeved by Finn's characterization of her. Why was he lying to her friend like this?
"This definitely sounds like the Rory I know," Carolina replied, smiling over the table at Rory. "I practically have to drag her out to try new things. She lives in New York and would rather spend her time reading in cafes! I mean, I love to read too, but I tell her all the time that we need to take advantage of living in the city. I think I've done quite well, too, wouldn't you say?" she asked Rory with a grin. Rory nodded in response. "The two of us have fun together. Well, when Rory is in town, that is."
Rory chuckled. "Yeah, being your friend is certainly eye-opening, for sure. You definitely keep me from wasting away at home."
"Have to live a little, Rory," Finn said, his expression blank as he stared at her over the table. "Life is too short. Sooner or later you'll be eighty pondering death, chastising yourself for not taking a chance."
"Exactly, Finn!" exclaimed Carolina, smiling at Finn. The waiter arrived with their food, ceasing all talk of Rory and Finn's Yale days.
The two of them continued to chatter, Rory observing them as she chewed on her fry. Just what in the world was Finn's prerogative here? Finn knew perfectly well what she was like in college; the gang had hung out plenty of times, just the four of them before Logan graduated. Heck, he helped her move out of her grandparents' house. What was obvious was that Finn was trying to prove a point to Rory, that he held the upper hand here. Rory and Finn were good friends once upon a time, and now he felt the need to issue her a warning? She knew he valued his friends dearly, but something was off about their conversation. What did he know about their relationship, and what did he know about Logan?
New York City - Mid-February 2009
Finn walked into the bar, brushing the snow off his shoulders and opening his coat in the heated room. It wasn't yet 4 p.m., but the bar would soon be filling up with workers catching a drink after a long day. He looked around quickly, frowning as he tried to find a flash of blond hair. This was where he said to meet him, right? Normally, Finn could find his friend easy, as he'd be welcoming him over with a wave. Not today, apparently.
Finn walked further into the bar, heading towards the back. He finally spotted his friend in the corner booth, his eyes downcast and staring at the beer in front of him. He was leaning over the table, one arm supporting his head while the other drew imaginary shapes on the tabletop.
Finn hurried over, eager to say hello. If Finn hadn't been so excited to see his friend, he would have noticed the gloom hanging over the table. Therefore he was shocked when his cheerful greeting was met with a grunt.
"Hi Logan, how have you been?" Finn asked, taking off his coat and throwing it onto the booth opposite his friend. He slid into the seat with a smile.
"Hey, Finn," Logan muttered, finally sitting up fully to greet his friend. His face was emotionless, though he sported dark circles underneath his eyes.
Finn's smile faded. "That well, huh? It's good to see you, mate," Finn added sincerely. "It's been a while. How's Palo Alto and sunny ole California?"
"It's lost its... luster." Logan took a sip from his beer, glancing off to the side as he put down the drink.
Logan said nothing more and Finn searched for something to say to fill the silence. "I was surprised to hear from you. Usually it's me calling you. You here visiting Honor, or on a business trip or-"
"No more business trips for me in the foreseeable future," Logan interrupted, turning his gaze back to his friend.
"What…?"
"I got myself fired - well, laid off. At least, that's what I'm telling people," Logan explained.
"I don't understand. Why would you say that?" Finn asked, puzzled as to what would cause Logan to lie.
"They didn't want me anymore." Although Logan tried to hide it, Finn could detect the hurt seeping into his voice.
"So, you were fired," Finn stated softly.
"The company taking over wasn't too thrilled about me hanging around." Logan paused before he added, "they were afraid I'd almost be an undercover agent for my father, despite my assurances that we no longer talked."
Finn's eyes widened in understanding. "Mate, well, that's shit," he said apologetically.
"Tell me about it," Logan replied, taking a swig from his beer.
"Damn. We need hard liquor." Finn looked over at his friend's half empty pint. "Well, I do. I'll bring you another beer." Finn got up from his seat, giving his friend a pat on the shoulder before departing for the bar. As Finn waited for the bartender, he observed his friend at the booth. Only now did Finn see the dark cloud hanging over him, the misery radiating off his body. How could he be so clueless to his friend's pain? Finn sighed as he walked back to the table with their drinks, unsure of what he could possibly say to help his friend now.
"Even three thousand miles away I can't escape my past," Logan muttered out, breaking the silence almost a minute after Finn returned.
"What will you do now? Will you find another job in Palo Alto?"
"I'm staying with Honor for the time being. After that," he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders.
"Will you move back to New York?" Finn asked, trying to mask the hope in his voice. Perhaps if Logan moved back to the city, he'd be near his friends again. They could help each other out from time to time. It could be just what Logan needed.
"No," Logan responded forcefully, shaking his head. "No," he repeated in a softer tone. "I don't want to move to New York again. New York is just, I don't know. Been there, done that."
"Well, with the way technology is going, you can have your career in New Media still. You can work from anywhere," Finn added positively, trying to add some encouragement.
"I don't know if I want that, though," Logan replied in a whisper, looking down into his pint.
"I thought you enjoyed what you were doing?"
"I did enjoy it, at least at first. It was a great distraction."
"It wasn't just a distraction for you," Finn tried to reason. "We all knew how well you succeeded there. You really found your niche." He paused waiting for Logan to meet his eye. "Or at least we knew how much you worked, especially since Colin and I could barely talk to you because you were so busy."
"It was a distraction, Finn," Logan argued, sitting up straighter. "It feels like I've been going through the motions these last two years. I got up, went to work, came home, went to bed. A constant cycle. I had no life outside my job. I threw myself into it, put my heart and soul into it. And for what? Nothing!" Logan exclaimed, pounding his fist on the table. His shoulders sagged and he took a breath, calming himself. "After two years of that, I need to do something else," he added a bit quieter. "I need to find a purpose."
"If you felt like that these last two years, I wish you would have said something. God, none of us had any idea."
"I had other things on my mind," Logan muttered, falling against the backrest, looking at the hands in his lap.
Finn watched his friend, slowly putting the pieces of the last two years together. "It's okay to admit to yourself that she broke your heart," he began gently. "Listen, I want to say I understand what that feels like, but I've never been in love like you have. That was a hell of a blow."
Logan's head shot up. "This has nothing to do with Rory," he replied in a steely voice.
"It doesn't?" he asked in slight disbelief.
"This is about my life, Finn. My curse."
"What curse?"
"My name. My background. Everything I am!"
"Logan-"
"Two years, Finn. Two years of trying to prove myself as Logan, only to be seen as a Huntzberger in the end." Logan sighed, shaking his head. "It seems like when things are just starting to go well, it's all ripped out from under me. I can't hold on to the good things. How blessed I was to be born into this family," he grumbled.
Finn bit his lip, unsure of what to say. He was used to hearing Logan's frustrations back in college, and Finn had forgotten how much of a toll his family had on him. "Well, if you see your name as a curse... Don't let it dictate you anymore. Take shit from no one. Don't shy away from the name. Take control of it, use it to your advantage. What do you really want to do?" he asked, leaning across the table.
Logan was silent for a moment before a small smile graced his lips. "I've always wanted to see the world."
"Er, okay. I was thinking more like a career or…"
"I never got to take that trip to Asia," Logan continued with a frown, his fingers playing with the bar coaster.
"Asia? We went together. And we went to Fiji, er, disregard the slight mishap with the boat." Finn, struck with an idea, added, "hey, let's go to Thailand! I've meant to go back. We'll have a blast, you and me!"
Logan's eyes narrowed, his fingers stalling. "No, the one with Rory after graduation."
"I thought you said this has nothing to do with her?"
"This doesn't." Logan's voice was hard, though Finn still doubted him. "I need to do this, Finn. I need to go alone," he said after a moment, his voice melancholic once more.
"So," Finn began slowly. "You'll take this trip to Asia. Alone. Okay, then what will you do? Come back and find a new job, right?"
"No, after I go to Asia, I think I'll move onto somewhere else. Just need to... go where life takes me."
"And where will life take you?" Finn asked, still in disbelief.
"I don't know! Don't you see? This is what I need to do!" Logan implored.
"Need to do? I'm not sure I understand, mate."
"I need," Logan began, stopping to glance away for a moment before continuing, "need to be a random face among the crowd. An unknown." He hunched over the table, folding his arms on the table top. He stared at his hands as they tapped against the counter, his brows furrowed in thought. Finn waited patiently for his friend to continue, his face blank as Logan looked up giving him a serious look.
"I need to find out who I really am, a person without the name." Logan smiled slightly before he continued eagerly, "there's so much of the world I can go see, so many things that we don't even know. I want to see how people live, understand more about what's out there. Maybe I can even find some way to work." Logan sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "I know I'm explaining this poorly, but I hope by venturing out into the unknown, I'll find myself and what I really want from life."
"And going off alone - this is how you'll find yourself?" Finn asked, skeptical.
"That's the reason I'm doing this, isn't it? I'll only know the answer when I've completed my journey."
"How long are you thinking about leaving?"
Logan's smile grew wider. "Who knows how long it will take? Maybe it will take years, and that's the point!" he exclaimed passionately.
Finn frowned. Logan's sudden enthusiasm for leaving worried him. "Don't do something this drastic without thinking this through. Think about who and what you'll leave behind," he argued, hoping that his friend would step back and think about the situation.
"Look, Finn," he murmured. "I've been thinking about this for a long time."
"Have you? Just disappearing? Walking away from your life?" Finn questioned, wondering how he could have never known Logan was planning to do something like this.
"What am I really walking away from? I have to do this, Finn," hitting his fist on the table in emphasis. "Life is more than cheese rolling in Gloucestershire, partying and gallivanting around Europe," he argued. "It's more than drunken cliff jumping in Costa Rica, or even an office in New York or Palo Alto. I can be something more, something different from just Logan Huntzberger, media heir and failed businessman. It's time for me to find out just what that is."
Logan reached for his glass, taking a drink before setting it on the table, frowning into the amber liquid. "I wish you could see it from my point of view. Why else do you think you're here?"
"Honestly? I was just looking forward to seeing you. I wasn't expecting this bombshell."
"Finn, I told you because," he began, his eyes narrowed in thought. He closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "Well out of everyone, I figured that you would understand. You would be supportive. Or at least I hoped," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "I need a friend on my side."
Finn bit his lip. "So, when will you leave?"
"I'm going to stay with Honor for a week. Then I'll go back to Palo Alto. Pack up my place, get travel documents together. I'm hoping by mid-April I can be on my way."
Finn studied his friend over the table. As unexpected as he felt the announcement was, he could understand Logan's need to remove himself from his world for a bit. Logan always came off very carefree, but those closest to him knew how the responsibility of his family weighed upon him. These past few years, however, Logan had grown up. He didn't feel the need to run off to escape as much. Maybe that's why Finn found the news so shocking. Out of their little group, Logan was the most pragmatic. Although Finn supposed, Logan's trip wasn't like the ones they took in college. It seemed more thought out that there was a reason. "If you feel it's something you need to do, I'll support you," he said finally.
"Thanks, Finn," Logan whispered. He looked relieved as if some of the weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
"Call me, and I'll help you pack," Finn said cheerily. "Give you some travel recommendations."
Logan chuckled and rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to barhop, Finn."
Finn shrugged his shoulders, his lips upturning in a small smile. "Eh, it was worth a try." He reached for his shot glass, holding it out in front of him. "To roads not yet traveled," he announced, crooking his head.
Logan met his eyes, and Finn could see they were a little brighter than before. Logan lifted his pint, clicking it against the shot glass. "Cheers."
"Hey," Logan said after he put down his glass. "In ominia, right?" He grinned slightly, one eyebrow raised.
Finn shook his head in silent laughter, glad to see parts of the old Logan shining through. "In omnia."
London – Late January 2016
"Oh my god, it is freezing! I wonder if I will ever be warm again?" Rory exclaimed as she rushed into the entryway, Logan not far behind.
"You're the one who keeps insisting we take the tube. Just think, we could have been in a nice warm cab this entire time!" he argued as he locked the door, turning around to face her with a smile, his teeth chattering slightly.
"Well, it's as I've said before," she reasoned diplomatically. "You simply cannot live in London and not take the tube. Plus the cost of a cab for that distance would have been ghastly." She shrugged off her coat and hung it up on the hook, before wrapping her hands in the sleeves of her sweater.
"Ghastly? Now who's been in London too long," Logan teased, hanging up his coat beside hers. "I've told you, I don't mind paying for the cost of a cab if it means you don't freeze to death."
"And I thought I told you," she argued back with brows raised, tapping his chest with her finger. "That this matter has been settled." Logan raised his arms in defeat, a playful grin gracing his features. "Now," she said, turning towards the kitchen. "I'm going to make us something warm to drink, while you will go upstairs and start the fire."
"Yes ma'am," he replied, mock saluting her.
Rory rolled her eyes. "Get upstairs, mister."
"I'm going," turning toward the staircase. "Oh by the way," he said, stopping at the first step. "I bought the microwaveable hot chocolate, just the kind you like."
"Ah, you're the best!" she exclaimed, turning toward his cabinets.
After both drinks were made in blessedly short time, she carefully walked up the stairs into the living room, finding Logan crouched in front of the fireplace. He was stoking the fire, giving her a marvelous view of his backside. How he could be so attractive doing the simplest of things, she would never know. Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she placed both mugs on the coffee table. He had managed to change into sweats and a long-sleeved tee; she reckoned she should do the same.
Logan, finished with the fire, was standing in front of the TV flipping through the channels when Rory walked back into the room. He ignored her as she walked behind him; he was too focused on finding a program to watch before they headed to bed. She stood off toward the side near the patio doors, watching him focus on the screen. Losing interest, she glanced down at the guitars in their stands by her feet.
"These are new," Rory said, breaking the silence. "You keep two out now."
"I do," Logan replied. Settling on a channel, he threw the control onto the couch, turning to her with a small smile.
Rory softly traced the wooden headstock of one instrument. "I only ever remember you keeping the one out on display," she murmured, the cool metal of the tuning pegs shocking her skin. "Why the change?" she asked, slightly curious.
Logan shrugged as he walked closer to her. "Sometimes Finn likes to jam with me, so I like to keep a second one readily available."
"Wait, for real? Finn plays?" she questioned in shock.
He grinned. "Yeah," he replied, chuckling.
"And you have jam sessions?" Logan's grin grew wider in response.
"Oh my god," she said in awe, looking back down at the instruments. "I never knew how much I needed to see this until now."
"Well," he said in a drawn-out reply, gently squeezing her hand before dropping it quickly, the action forcing her to look back at him. "Maybe one day it will happen," smirking before heading over to the couch and falling against the cushions.
"Does he visit you a lot? I know we saw them back in August, but," she trailed off, walking over to join him on the seat.
"When he has time" he responded as he threw an arm over her shoulder. "Colin and Robert have more traditional jobs, so it's more difficult for them to travel as much. Especially to get us all in one place. Finn just kind of, shows up. Though he typically gives a warning." He paused before adding, "of like a day."
She rolled her eyes as she settled into his side. "Sounds like Finn. What does he do?" she questioned, thinking back to their surprise meeting earlier this month. So far, Logan had made no indication that Finn had tipped him off about their earlier meeting.
"The question is, what does he not do."
"Logan," she admonished teasingly.
"Honestly, I don't really know. I know he's invested in several clubs and that he has residences all over the world. I think he has a very tenuous relationship with his family's company. Finn is an… enigma. But most of all," he said after a slight pause, "he's a mature Finn. He's more grown up than from our Yale days."
"Really?" she asked a bit disbelievingly, looking up at him.
"Yes, really," he said, turning his attention to the TV. "Finn has been there a lot for me. He's more perceptive than you think," he murmured seriously.
"Hidden behind his jovial exterior, right?"
"Right," he replied with a smile, before bringing her in closer to his side. He focused on the program, laughing at a particularly funny exchange between the two characters.
Rory was lost in her own thoughts. Finn's warning from earlier in the month took on new meaning. Finn apparently had been a great friend to Logan, perhaps more so than Colin or Robert. Just what had happened over the years for him to need Finn so much? She'd probably never know, but the prospect of Logan suffering bothered her. Even after all these years, Rory just wished for him to be happy.
Rory frowned as she looked over her bank accounts, the small text weighing upon her mind. Mr. Morrison's words from earlier in the month repeated over and over every time she looked at this web page lately. Live frugally? Crashing on people's couches after getting rid of her apartment counted. Find a job in the meantime to re-establish her savings? Well, she had a few options open, she just had to bite the bullet and interview, despite her hesitations. Take as many writing jobs as she could even if she didn't want to write them? Well, it would help if they would stop passing over her articles.
She sighed, thinking about the piece The Atlantic had passed over earlier. It was just one of the few pieces that had been rejected this month. She didn't exactly lie to Mr. Morrison though – she was trying. Things were just not going as smoothly as she alluded to over the phone with him. Now if only Conde Nast would meet with her, maybe she could actually keep her word. She glanced at Naomi's name in the next tab on her web browser. Rory was going to have to kick ass with this book. With fewer options, Rory felt as if she was putting all of her faith in this new project. The prospect of failure was unacceptable.
Rory heard the front door close and the refrigerator opening soon after; Logan had returned from his evening run. He had left soon after arriving home from work and been gone for almost an hour. In that time Rory had meant to prepare for tomorrow, but her attention was quickly diverted to her pressing other problems. She quickly logged out of her banking page as she heard his steps on the stairwell, gathering her notes about Naomi and pretending to read through them.
"Hey," Logan greeted as he reached the top of the stairs. He took a long drag from his water bottle as he walked over to her. "All ready for you first big meeting with Naomi?" Logan asked, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss Rory's cheek.
"I think so," she said without looking up at him. "I've read enough about her, I'm totally consumed with all things Naomi." Rory shuffled through the papers at her side, hoping to find that one print-out she marked up earlier.
"I know. You even mention her in your sleep," he teased. His smirk faltered when his quip failed to elicit any reaction from her. "What's up, Ace?" he asked.
"I really want this to work out." She closed her laptop and leaned over to set it on the coffee table. Sighing, she leaned back against the couch, moving the papers to her lap. "I need this to work out for me. It just has to," she muttered while staring at the top sheet.
Logan frowned, concerned over the doubt in her voice. "What makes you think it won't?"
She scoffed. "Precedent."
"Rory-."
She finally turned around to face him. "I've failed so much," she said despondently. "What if I can't do this too?"
Unable to look up at him any longer, Rory stood, walking away from the couch to the fireplace. She stared into the flames, watching as the tendrils licked over the wood. Logan remained on other side of the couch, clutching his bottle. She could feel his concerned eyes on her.
"I had all these goals that I wanted to accomplish," she said, wishing the warmth of the fire could bring her any comfort. "It's like they're all there, just out of my reach, but close enough to tempt me."
"You've accomplished so much already."
"But not all of it," she replied, shaking her head. "I wanted to see the world, be the next Amanpour, you know."
"You'll see the world. You have time. You have so much time," he responded earnestly.
"You've already seen it, you're so successful in your business. Look what you wrote!"
"That wasn't planned, though. That was an opportunity that I had to take advantage of in the moment. I had a lot of help." He slowly made his way toward her. "Whereas you, you are working so hard to complete your goal. It will come, it just needs time." He stopped in front of her, looking down at her with encouraging eyes.
"Time, I don't have time!" she exclaimed. "I ran out of time years ago."
"So? It's taken you longer than expected. Nothing ever turns out to plan, you know. But you're on the right path," he said, grabbing her hand. "This is what's important Rory," he implored.
"Am I, though?" she asked, pulling her hand from his. "I don't know, I feel like I'm drifting," she said, her arm gesturing as she stepped away from him again. "I'm floating along, except I don't have any oars to guide me. I just keep crashing into the rocks. One by one, I collect another hole until sooner or later, I'm sinking, and I have no lifejacket. I'm crying out for help, and no one hears me." She sniffled and hugged her arms closer to her body, staring at the floor.
"I hear you, Rory," he replied softly.
"God, Logan. I just wish I could make you understand how… defeated I feel, all the time," she whimpered, holding back tears.
Logan remained silent for a long moment, watching her with a curious expression. Rory felt slightly ashamed at her behavior. He then stared away from her, looking out into the room, biting his lip. She opened her mouth to apologize, with what, she didn't know when he started to speak. "I may seem put together now Rory, but like you, I was drifting… listless, almost. I was drifting for a long time." He looked back at her with a serious expression. "I reached a real low point. I had absolutely no idea what I wanted out of life or where I was going. I didn't even know how to start… living, I guess." He paused to glance at his feet. "I had never felt as alone as I did back then. It took years to be comfortable in my skin again," he murmured. He met her eyes again and added, "so yes, I can empathize, somewhat."
Rory longed to ask him what he meant, but she couldn't find the words. She searched his eyes, looking for any doubt in his admission. She knew she would find none, he was honest to a fault.
The compassion in his eyes was too much for her and she finally had to look away. "I just don't want it all to remain a dream," she whispered, looking down once more. The tears finally escaped her eyes, but she didn't wipe them away. She wanted them to stain her cheeks; they were the proof of everything she longed for but couldn't achieve.
"Rory," he whispered back, placing a finger under her chin to gently lift her head. He smiled when she met his eyes. "I have complete faith. Those dreams will become a reality." He wiped at the tears on her skin, his hand moving to her neck.
She returned his smile, his encouragement washing over her. Logan always seemed to believe in her, she just wished she shared that faith. He placed his hands on her arms, moving them up and down in a comforting gesture. She leaned slightly into him, resting her head against his, hoping he would envelop her in an embrace.
"Do you want some tea?" Logan asked quietly into her hair.
Rory stood up straighter to look him fully in the eye. "Tea?" she asked, surprised by his odd question.
"Yeah, I guess these Brits are rubbing off on me." He chuckled. "It's what you're supposed to do in these types of situations. I could have asked to put the kettle on, just to give you the full effect," he stated. "Hell, I'd even add a Mrs. Doubtfire voice, if it would make you smile."
Rory rolled her eyes at his attempt to lighten the moment. "Tea sounds good," she replied with a small laugh.
"Okay," he grinned. "I'll be right back." After a brief kiss to her forehead, he left her with a final gentle squeeze to her arms.
Later that evening, Rory sat back from his desktop, rolling her shoulders. Her body was stiff from sitting at the desk for so long, but she finally felt prepared for tomorrow. The only thing left to do was show up, and hopefully, the meeting would just flow. She grabbed her cup of now cold tea, taking a sip before rolling back the chair to stand. Walking over to the patio doors, she looked out onto the residential street, contemplating the lives of the people around her.
Logan's home was located in a well-off neighborhood, the residents were certainly successful in their careers. Even the cars showed their wealth, their paint shiny from the gleam of the streetlights. It made sense for Logan to live in a place like this, among the successful and settled people of London. Funny, this would have been the type of area she would have liked for herself, instead of the bug infested Brooklyn walk-up she finally had to leave. She was so far away from the vision of herself she had imagined back at Yale, would there ever be a time when she would make it? Logan seemed to think so.
Oh, Logan. He always had this innate faith in her, despite knowing all her troubles and failures. Whether it was simply passing a difficult exam or getting the paper out on time, he knew the way to encourage her. Although did he understand what she was trying to tell him tonight? He said he empathized, but she wondered if he truly recognized her struggles. He always had a way of looking at life with rose-colored glasses. In some ways, she always loved that about him, but on nights like tonight, she felt that he needed a reality check, that life wasn't always fixable.
Rory closed her eyes, letting the soft music wash over her. Logan was on the couch, playing his guitar again. His fingers gently moved glibly over the strings in the way she remembered from all those years ago. Logan, who was always full of spunk and attacked life head-first, had a tenderness with the instrument that at first surprised her, but the more she knew him, made sense. The song he played now was sad, full of longing, but held a trace of hope. It amazed her, how he seemed to echo the feelings within her. But she frowned at the back of his head as he faced away from her. Logan played when something was troubling him. What could it be tonight? Was it something she said? Did he have a stressful day at work and he needed to decompress? Perhaps it had something to do with his own period of drifting. How she longed to ask what had happened to make him so listless, but she felt that it was a story he didn't care to tell.
Rory turned back to look out the glass doors with a sigh. She watched as a couple navigated the sidewalks together, avoiding the puddles from an earlier rain. In the evening mist, they seemed ghostly, dreamlike, vanishing into the night when they stepped out of the soft yellow glow of the street lights. She turned her focus to stare out over the city rooftops, wishing she could see the stars here in London. For just a moment a sliver of the silvery moon peaked from a gap in the clouds, before disappearing into the darkness once more.
AN: Hope you enjoyed the "Wedding Bell Blues," "Moon River," and Breakfast at Tiffany's references. I read an interview from Nick Holmes (the guy who plays Robert) who said Matt and Tanc sat around during the YJIJJ filming and played guitar (! internally screaming I need visual evidence). Anyway, Logan had guitars in both of his homes and I don't know, it was a small thing that was never really mentioned.
One last rewritten chapter to go, then it's onto 12. If you're a new reader, welcome. If you haven't yet, I would love if you could review. I would appreciate it as I'm writing the future chapters now and take every comment into account.