AN: Okay, here we go again. I am really, really, reallyREALLY sorry that I haven't updated, ever in the history of the universe... I know I am a horrible person and a horrible fanfic author; I suck at life; rest assured, I know. And also I'm sorry. But being an upperclassman has been insanely, insanely busy and even my entire summer was a whirlwind, so... I didn't have much time for non-school-related writing... I'm going to do my best to work through this and possibly wrap it up fairly soon, but no guarantees. Thanks very much to those who discovered the story and reviewed! That's always fun. Anyway, hope you enjoy. Also: be prepared to hate Logan even more. Also: there's definitely more language in this chapter... partly because it's a lot of Finn's feelings, and partly because I decided to make it that way. Just be warned.

Disclaimer: If I were in any way officially affiliated with the CW it would be far less annoying. If I were in any way officially affiliated with the Palladinos or Rosenthal, my life would be far less annoying. However, the CW and my life are both quite annoying, fairly often, ergo—no affiliation. I just write fanfic.

Rory opened her eyes in the middle of the night, hearing one of her machines beeping. By the scant glow of the lights on the equipment she could see Logan in a chair across the room, using his suit coat as an awkward pillow. She wanted to be amused and touched, but those feelings struggled with the ones instantly recalled by the memory of his earlier conversation with Finn. Finn didn't mean it. He doesn't know us. He doesn't know how much Logan loves me. But she lay awake for a long time, staring at the blond in the plastic-upholstered armchair.

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In the very early morning, Rory awoke to the confusing sight of not Logan, but Finn in the chair against the wall. She blinked and winced—apparently consciousness meant pain. "Logan—" she tried to speak and stopped.

"He just went out to get coffee, love," Finn said, getting up and pulling the chair up next to the bed. "He'll be back soon. Go back to sleep." He took the hand that didn't have a needle in it and massaged it gently. "Go to sleep."

Rory sighed lightly and closed her eyes again, shifting her head ever so slightly on the pillow. "Read to me?" she said after a moment.

"Of course, pet." Finn retrieved the paperback from the bedside table and began reading, still massaging the frail hand that was tense with pain.

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"Logan!" Rory came dangerously close to pulling out the IV line when she suddenly started thrashing about in her sleep. "Help—no—stop—" she mumbled, grimacing.

Logan—back some time ago from his coffee run—looked up from his BlackBerry, startled; Finn was already out the door. "Ace, it's okay; Ace, what's wrong?" he said softly, going over to her. "Ace, shhh," he tried to take her hand but she was moving violently. "Ace, I'm here, shhh." He looked helplessly around the room.

After a moment, Finn came in, his eyes flashing; behind him, decidedly calmer, was a nurse carrying a syringe. "You two, hold her still. Gentle," she scolded as the panicking young men gripped the girl's limbs. "There. It's all right." The nurse took Rory's wrist lightly in one hand, pressed a few buttons on the machine, separated the tube from the IV needle and then emptied the syringe into Rory's vein. "I just gave her a light sedative. Night terrors are to be expected in a situation like this," she said as she reconnected the machine and started the drip again. "She'll probably sleep for awhile longer. You two should go get some rest yourselves." The nurse closed the door behind her.

Logan sank down onto the bench that was against the wall near the door; Finn flopped into the armchair. He faced the blond, giving him a level stare. Logan tried to look unconcerned as he took out his BlackBerry and began typing again. Finn looked at Logan for a long moment as the blond ignored him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he finally exploded. "Grow some balls, man."

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Finn was just leaving, teeth clenched and fists balled, as Lorelai walked down the hall toward Rory's room.

"Finnegan!" she said with a slight smile. "What are you doing here? You should have gone home. Go back to school, go to class or... the pub, or whatever non-class activity you use as your excuse not to attend class. Sleep, actually. That would probably be better," she started to ramble, frightened as his expression registered in her mind. "I'm sure you haven't slept much lately either; I know I feel much better after the, what, three hours I was able to get in four fragments?" she joked lamely. Finn took a deep breath and tried to relax. "Finn..." Lorelai said softly.

He ran a hand through his rough dark hair. "It's nothing, Lorelai. Rory was having some night terrors a moment ago; she's fine now but I thought I should warn you, doll. It's..." his voice trailed off and he hardened his face. "It'll be pretty rough for awhile." With a slightly stilted smile, he finished, "I'm just off for some breakfast, love; I'll be back in awhile but Logan's inside."

Lorelai fought the flood of fear that rose in her when he said it would be rough. "Thanks for everything, Finn. I don't know what we'd have done without you." She rested her hand on his shoulder for a moment before collecting herself to enter Rory's room.

"Of course, doll; anything for Rory love." Finn went on his way and left the hospital.

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Lorelai and Logan sat mostly in silence for about an hour, both appearing to work—Lorelai on a laptop and Logan on his BlackBerry. Logan concentrated intensely; Lorelai, however, fidgeted almost continuously and looked up anytime there was the slightest abnormal sound from anywhere.

Near the end of that hour, Rory slowly opened her eyes. She tensed slightly, steeling herself for the very possible realization that Logan had left; upon seeing him, she breathed a slow sigh and relaxed. For the most part, she was feeling a bit better than she had—the chest pain with each breath had diminished from a sharp stab to a throbbing ache, and the cramps in her abdomen seemed to have loosened. Head's still burning though... I wish I could just think a little without this searing fire in my brain... or do I? Well... maybe not... she confessed to herself, despondent, as she looked at her boyfriend.

Rory lay quietly for a few minutes, breathing deeply, trying to focus and figure out all the things that had happened to her. Logan, Logan, Logan, Logan... what is going on? And—crap, why didn't I realize it—where's Finn? I hope—oh, I hope, I hope, I hope... What was that he said? Oh, yes, I remember; all that crap. He doesn't even know. How could he? He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand anything. After a few minutes of such futile efforts, Rory sighed again.

Lorelai looked up. "Rory!" she exclaimed. Rory winced. "Sorry babe," her mother apologized in more hushed tones. Lorelai set the laptop on the floor, scooted her chair closer to the bed and stroked Rory's limp hair. "How are you, sweetie?"

"I think I'm a little better," Rory answered slowly, meeting Lorelai's eyes.

"Well, you're at least speaking in fully-formed sentences now; that's good, right? Of course, while for Yogi Berra that might be saying a lot, it's not too stupendous for you, I guess," Lorelai said, laughing a bit. Rory smiled wanly.

Logan clicked the button on the side of his BlackBerry and then came over to the bed. "Morning Ace," he said quietly, taking her hand.

"Morning," she replied, breathless. She looked up, the anxiety naked in her eyes; her heart nearly broke when she saw the glaze in his. "When did you get back?"

"You knew I was gone? I'm surprised," he said, smiling. "I've been back a couple of hours now. You were asleep when I left and asleep when I got back. Sorry you missed me for a minute there. But I'm here now," he tried to be reassuring. She held his hand tightly.

Are you here? Really? "I'm glad you're here. Don't let go."

"I promise." He did his best to give her an encouraging, strengthening look but even he was afraid it wasn't enough.

Rory readjusted her torso, grimacing with that pain and with the processing of the expression on his face. "Would you... maybe... read to me?" she asked, timid as a child. "I... really want to... but my head hurts so much..." her voice was weaker.

"Of course," Logan said graciously and took the book from the table. He picked up at the page Finn had marked, doing his best with the unfamiliar story by Mark Twain.

The tale went on, but Rory was having a hard time listening. There was something about Logan's voice that struck her as... off, somehow. He sounded almost like he was paying attention, but not quite; almost like he wanted to be reading it, but not quite; almost like he knew what he was doing, but not quite. There was a certain quality that wasn't there, and it was unfamiliar to her and it didn't fit. He seemed to be trying, but she was afraid it wouldn't be enough.

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Finn sat down on a bench outside the hospital and pulled out his cell phone. Sighing and rumpling his hair, he punched a button and waited.

"Who are you and what are you bloody doing calling me at bloody eleven thirty at night?!" barked a male voice on the other end.

"Eleven thirty, mate? Funny, I thought it was eight thirty in the morning," said Finn, chuckling.

"Finn, you bastard, I just got the man at the bar to deliver a drink to the sexy doll who's been making flirtatious eyes at me all night."

Finn looked serious. "Max... come on."

The voice was suddenly solemn. "All right, mate, what's going on? No, 'old on a minute. Let me get out of here; it'll burst your eardrums in a moment. Hang on a tick." The line seemed to go dead for several seconds. "Right, then. I've made it safely outside. Now, this better be good or you owe me the quids for a night with a hooker."

"Come now, Max, have you ever known me to pull you away on an out night for a trifle?" Finn said sardonically.

"Enough with the crap, sonny. What's the problem?"

Finn sighed deeply. "I just..." He stopped. Can I actually say this? No. Yes. No, definitely not... yes. You've got to, mate. Go at it. "So this girl..."

"Oh good God. Here we go."

"Shut up, mate." Finn leaned his head back, spread-eagled on the bench. "This girl who's dating my mate Logan, she's a love and we're quite good friends."

"No, mate, you cannot screw your best friend's woman," Max cut in.

"Shut up. I'm not in a joking mood. So, we're good friends; we've all been looking after her while he's been away. Then a couple of nights ago... what, three nights? God, I can't even remember... we went to the pub to celebrate the beginning of senior year; we very unwisely let her walk home alone and..." He stopped again, breathing deeply. "She... God... I can't..." He was shaking. Max waited, quiet. "Some bastards pulled her into their dorm..." The brunet stopped once more.

After a pause, Max said calmly, "I'm not going to say it for you, mate. Keep on."

"Fine, you coldhearted sonofa..." Finn tried to calm his trembling body. "Theyrapedher." It finally came out in a rush. "They raped her, beat her, left her helpless and almost senseless out in the night."

Max let out a long breath. "Look, mate..."

"No, you look! This gorgeous, innocent woman—they were brutal and violent and intolerably cruel to her. And I... I let her go out there alone... and then I had to go pick her up, and take her home, and... she had to take some birth control, mate, and it made her deathly sick. And she's been lying in the hospital for a fricking geologic era... and I can't get the girls out of my mind. Max, mate, you've got to make me sane again. You're so good at it..."

"Finn, mate," Max began after a moment, "Finn, mate, all I can do for you is tell you again that it wasn't your fault. It wasn't then, and it wasn't now. That son of a bitch who attacked Carolyn and Melanie was after them anyway; there was nothing you could have done. If it hadn't been this sheila this time, it would have been someone else. There are a lot of bloody bastards in the world and you can't do much about it. You've just got to be who you are with what you've got."

"I'm afraid, sonny, who I am and what I've got are just not enough," Finn said bitterly. "This shouldn't have happened in the first place. Why the hell have I let this happen again?"

"I told you, it's not your fault. How long is it going to take for that to register in your dense brain?"

"'S not what I meant, mate. Why in the name of all that is holy, redheads and scotch included, did I let myself start caring again?" sighed the Australian.

Max gritted his teeth. "Finn, stop. Do not even begin to think that way. You cannot regress in that area. I will tell you again how completely wrong that response is, and furthermore I will personally fly to whichever Godforsaken frozen city of New England you are currently inhabiting and beat your bloody head in if you go any further with that line of thinking."

A twisted smile came to Finn's face. "All right, all right mate, I don't think that'll be necessary. It seems I can't just dismiss this woman from my life... wish I could... would be so much simpler."

"Like hell it would be," said Max bluntly. "I can't be of any further use to you if you keep talking like that. Life blows, mate, but you've got to pick up and move on. You've got to."

Finn was finally relaxing a bit. "All right, mate, all right. Fine. I've got it. I just might be able to do it now. But... fuck... fuck all, Max, I cannot..." He shuddered. Unexpectedly, he began to sob in huge gulps.

The other man waited for the cries to subside. "I'm here, mate. Just hold on."

It took minutes before Finn was able to talk. "I can't... Max, I can't even tell you how much... she reminded me... of Melanie, Melanie in her bloody casket..." Tears were still streaming down his swarthy cheeks.

"God, Finn..." Max could hardly speak.

"You know, she doesn't even look like her. Not blonde, not tan, not tiny... but I have never seen anything like it... You couldn't have made her look more like Mel if you'd given them both plastic surgery." He thought he could feel his heart tearing open.

"Be with her, Finn. Go be with her. Help her heal. You've got that chance now, mate. She's alive and she's going to be fine and you are going to be all right. You will never make it back if you turn away at this moment. You have to go to her."

"But Logan..." Finn murmured. "That's another piece of it. He's here, but it took me buying him a plane ticket and telling him I was going to murder him if he didn't leave London and come to her. He's being an asshole and it's killing her. I want to throttle him, mate."

"There's nothing you can do about him either," Max stated. "I remind you that all you can do is be who you are with what you have."

Finn tousled his hair one more time and wiped his eyes. "All right, mate. All right. In earnest, now. I'm going to go back in there and earn my redemption."

"You don't need to redeem y'self for anything, Finn. You need to get y'self back into a normal human mode of operation."

"I get it, I get it." Finn almost laughed. "When I think of what would have become of me if Uncle Percy and Aunt Leona had gotten that little girl they expected instead of you when the adoption papers went through... Well, sweet my coz, I must take my leave of you."

"Fine, then, Rosalind; I hope you're happy now that my chances with the sexpot at the bar are completely ruined," mocked Max.

"That's assuming you had any chances in the first place, Celia," returned Finn. "Anyway, thanks mate. Thanks."

"Just my job for my cousin, mate. I'm off. Good luck."

Finn snapped his phone shut and slowly rose to head back toward the hotel.

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Rory had, mercifully enough, fallen asleep again when Finn came into the hospital room. Looking at Lorelai, he said quietly, "How is she?"

"She said she was doing a little better when she was awake," the girl's mother replied. "The doctor looked in on her a little while ago and said everything looks like she's slowly starting to head toward normal again."

The Australian nodded softly. "Good. Good," he said with firm conviction. "Where's Logan?"

"He had to make a phone call and he was afraid it was going to get loud, so he went outside. I've just been sitting here, training madly for the World Thumb-Twiddling Championships."

"Ah, that highly respected event; I know it well. A second cousin of mine made it to the finals once," Finn said dryly with a smile and took a seat. "Anything else I should know?"

"Stephanie called and said she'd be here after her eleven o'clock class. Lane works the lunch shift today so she's coming after that. My parents called to check in, but—probably best for all concerned—can't make it here at the moment. Sony called to ask me if they could name a voicemail program after me, because apparently I'm incredibly thorough with phone-related news, but I said no, that would be stupid because I can't tell what to play back and what not to," Lorelai rambled. "Anyway, yeah. Nothing much."

Finn smiled. "Right, then. I'm going to... take a bit of a nap. Wake me if you need anything, or if anything happens."

"Absolutely." Lorelai smiled to herself as she watched the brunet settle back and close his eyes, then frowned as she thought of the blond who was currently AWOL. It appears that it really does take a crisis to show who's a grownup and who's not... She went back to working on her computer.

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"All right, fine, tomorrow morning's good. Yes, the four fifteen from JFK to Heathrow. Thanks, Chelsea. Any more notes for me?" Logan paused, listening to his secretary. "Right, right, he's pissed as hell, got it. Yes, well, he can cope. Don't let him beat on you for what I did, all right Chels? ...Right. Okay. Thanks again. I'll be by tomorrow evening to pick up some things, and then back the next day... Perfect. See you then. Oh, wait—email me the e-ticket number when you get it. Right. Cheers." He slipped his BlackBerry back into its case. Thinking of how Rory would react to his leaving, he winced; but, he reminded himself, it was necessary. Life just couldn't be the way she wanted it all the time.

With confident strides, he headed back to the hospital room, but his steps got slower and slower as he neared it.

"Who is it?!" Finn startled awake as Logan entered.

"Relax, Finn, it's just me."

"Ah ha, so the wanderer has returned. How's it going, Mr. Rabbitt? Or can I call you Eddie?" Finn said, slightly vicious.

Logan glared at him. "Shut up, man. Just shut up. You have no frickin' right to say that to me."

"Oh, we're condemning hypocrisy now, are we? I'm sorry; I must have missed the memo. Not exactly characteristic of a Hartford blueblood." His voice was fully venomed now.

"It'll never be enough for you, will it? Never enough."