The oak door stood imposingly before them. Logan had visited Honor there maybe a half a dozen times or so since she had taken up residency in the Huntzberger's Manhattan penthouse after her graduation from Trinity College a year and a half earlier, and the door had never felt so cold and uninviting before. He felt Rory put a hand on his shoulder and he relaxed slightly.
"We don't have to go in. We can come back if you're not ready," she assured him.
"No," he answered. "I need to do this." Logan nodded his head in determination. "The movers will be here next week."
"Movers?" Rory asked.
"Dad hired movers to pack up all of her stuff so he wouldn't have to deal with it," he told her, evenly. She hated the detached tone of his voice—as though he'd completely resigned himself to the fact that his father was an ass. She knew that is was a defense mechanism, and that if he continued to care about Mitchum Huntzberger's emotional illiteracy, it would drive him mad; she just wished he didn't have to be put in such a position.
"What are they going to do with it?"
Logan shrugged. "They'll probably stick all the boxes in the basement somewhere behind the first printing press great, great grandpa Huntzberger ever printed a HPG newspaper on." He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let them hide away his sister's entire existence. He would save what little of her he could.
"Well, we did have some good times with that printing press," Rory offered, trying to lighten the mood.
"You tried to hide behind it from Finn one time when he was going through one of his early naked phases and you got stuck on one of the gears and couldn't get out. It took us hours to find you," Logan laughed.
"I wasn't talking about that time." Rory cringed at the memory. "Finn was the one who finally found me and he wouldn't get me free until he'd pointed out every one of his invisible, new chest hairs."
"Oh yes," Logan laughed some more. "When Colin and I found you two, Finn was on number twenty-three and you were as red as that SuperGirl cape you'd been wearing everywhere."
"I was breaking it in for my Halloween costume, Logan," Rory defended huffily. "And it wasn't a SuperGirl cape, it was a Wonder Woman cape. Wonder Woman was a hundred times cooler than SuperGirl could ever hope to be."
Logan swallowed uncomfortably as an image of grown up Rory in a Wonder Woman costume flitted through his mind. "Let's go in," he said tersely, grabbing the key from his pocket. Suddenly the thought of going in didn't seem so daunting. At least it would distract him from thoughts of peeling tight, blue and white starred hot pants off his best friend's long, shapely legs. He'd made his choice as far as that was concerned, and he chose their friendship. It meant too much to him to let anything, especially his libido, jeopardize it.
He unlocked the door, and turned the knob, letting it swing open. He felt Rory's warm hand brush against his as her fingers moved to interlace themselves with his own digits. She gave him a reassuring squeeze as they walked silently through the open door.
Logan took a quick look around the living room in front of him. He could feel tears start to well up and he closed his eyes, trying to push them back. This was where his sister had lived. This was where she ate and read, and watched TV and this was where she slept each night, dreaming of things she would never have the chance to make come true.
In a few days, the apartment would be bare and empty—the home she had created would, like her, be no more than a memory. It wasn't fair.
"What are we looking for?" Rory asked softly, interrupting his thoughts.
Logan shrugged. "Things to remember her by. Things…" he sighed. "Things that were important to her, I guess. I was just kind of hoping I would recognize it when I saw it."
Rory nodded her head in understanding. He was looking for that connection with his sister. Something that would remind him of her and everything they went through together. She squeezed his hand again. "Where should we start?'
"I guess this is as good a place as any." He motioned to the room around them. They were silent for a moment again, not moving. Logan finally took a deep breath, letting his eyes search the room. There was, what was undoubtedly, a priceless Cassatt on the wall next to them. Honor loved art, especially impressionism, and took a special interest in female artists. He took a moment to admire the painting before letting his eyes wonder further, until they landed on the mantle above the fire place. "Let's go," he told Rory, walking slowly across the room.
They stopped in front of the fire place and Rory removed her hand from his, placing it comfortingly on his shoulder as he picked up the first picture off of the ledge. It was a picture of Honor dressed in a flowery skirt and a cashmere sweater set. Josh was behind her and he had his arms wrapped around her waist with an offering of daisies in his hand. She looked so incredibly happy. He set the picture down and continued to look at the rest. There were a few more with Josh and a couple with a few of her friends. He was approaching the end of the ledge when he saw a picture that made him stop. A small boy and a slightly older girl were in a large yard with a large, slobbery yellow lab. The dog was standing in a baby pool full of sudsy water, his head swung to the side and his ears blurred with motion as he shook the soap bubbles every which way, dousing the two children who had been attempting to bathe him.
Logan remembered that dog. He had named him Mohawk due to the funny tuft of hair on the top of his head. The lab had wondered onto their property one summer afternoon when he was six. Mohawk had been covered from head to tail in mud. Anna, the nanny, had filled the baby pool with soap and water and gotten them some old rags so that they could give the dog a bath. With little cooperation from Mohawk, they managed to get all of the dirt off of him and the two kids had spent the rest of the day playing fetch, and tug of war, and chasing the dog around the yard. Logan fell instantly in love with that damn dog. When he brought him up to the house at the end of the day to introduce him to his parents, the elder Huntzbergers had not been pleased. They immediately called the animal control officers and had the lab carted away like a criminal. Logan cried for two days straight. He hadn't thought about his canine companion in years.
"Did I ever tell you about Mohawk?" he asked Rory. She shook her head in the negative. Logan put the picture back down, shoving his hands in his pockets. He didn't take his eyes off the photo the entire time he relayed the story to his best friend.
Rory wrapped her arms around him and drew him into a great big hug. "It sounds like you gave him a really good day," she responded, lifting her head to look up at his face. "I bet he appreciated that."
"But then he got taken away," he answered, and in barely a whisper he added, "just like everyone else I cared about."
Rory tightened her hold on him. "Not everyone," she assured him.
He tilted his head down so his eyes met hers and responded to the unspoken portion of her statement. "You got taken away too," he reminded her. "You're just the only one that came back." They stayed in their embrace for a while before they finally broke apart. Logan picked the picture back up and placed into the bag he had brought with him.
The two friends continued around the room with few words as Logan lost himself in his memories. He was looking over the collection of books in the built in book cases when he caught Rory staring at something out of the corner of his eye.
"What?" he asked as he turned around to find what she was looking at. Her gaze was on the coffee table in the middle of the room. "Magazines?" he questioned as that appeared to be the only thing there. She moved towards the table and he followed her.
She picked up the top magazine which had been left open to a page with a yellow post–it on it. There was a picture of a woman in wedding gown. Rory put the periodical back down on the table and picked up what had been underneath it. It wasn't another magazine like the other items on the table. This appeared to be a sketchbook. Rory flipped open the cover to the first page. Honor's name was written in cursive at the top. Underneath was a sketch of a woman wearing a strapless gown with a full skit that had a train that extended off the edge of the page. It was shaded in white with tons of little sparkly detail and a few swatches of silk and lace were glued onto the page. The next few pages were similar variations of the first dress. Rory continued to flip through the pages, in awe of her friend's hidden artistic talent. Finally the wedding dresses stopped and there was a page labeled "Alexadra." The sketch on that page was of a floor length dress with a deep-v neck line and an empire waist with a flowing a-line skirt. It was shaded in a periwinkle blue. The next page was for Walker and had a dress similar to Alexandra's only the top was strapless and went straight across the bust. Rory flipped the page once more and let out a barely audible gasp.
Logan stepped closer and looked over her shoulder. He stared down at the page which had Rory's name scrawled across the top in elegant hand-writing. There was a sketch of her in a dress shaded in the light blue color Honor had chosen for her wedding. The a-line skirt went from just below the bust all the way down to the floor, just like the others. The top had a sweetheart neckline and spaghetti straps. It was beautiful.
"I didn't…I mean, she never…" Rory took a deep breath before speaking again. "She hadn't asked me yet. I didn't know."
Logan gently touched her shoulder from his spot behind her. "You were like a sister to her, Rory. Of course she wanted you to be one of her bride's maids."
Rory leaned back against his chest and took a few deep breaths to steady her emotions. She had come to support him, but as always they were there to support each other. Logan brought his had around and pushed the sketchbook to Rory's chest. "Take it," he told her.
"What?" she asked, automatically gripping the book tighter and turning to look at him for confirmation.
"You should take it," he repeated. "It obviously means a lot to you, and I'm certain it meant a lot to her. Maybe you won't get to be her bride's maid now, but at least this will help remind you."
"Thank you," she whispered, wiping a tear from her cheek and then throwing her arms around him, being careful not to crinkle the pages of the sketchbook she still held.
"Of course," he replied, placing a kiss on the top of her head. "Besides, someday you're going to get married, and maybe you can have a little bit of Honor with you when that day comes." If he ever got over the urge to castrate every guy that so much as looked at her funny.
They finished exploring the living room, adding a few more things to the pile of tangible memories they had collected. They moved quickly through the kitchen and the large storage closet before finally beginning on the bedroom. Logan found a couple more photos to add to his collection. He looked quickly through the closet and was just about to shut the door when a box on the top shelf caught his attention. He pulled it down and once again felt his eyes filling with tears. Inside was a neatly folded quilt. He recognized the quilt as one that he had seen in several pictures of her as a baby. It had been hand sewn by their great-great-grandmother before Huntzberger women had decided that any sort of manual labor was below them. The box also contained her favorite teddy bear from her childhood, an antique baby dishware set with sterling silver spoons, and a soft, pink onesie with a little ballerina skirt and a picture of the ballerina hippo from Fantasia.
Rory was overwhelmed by emotion as well, but when the sentimental look in Logan's eyes turned to one of fiery anger, she had to stop herself from laughing. She squeezed his shoulder where her hand had been resting. "It's a girl thing, Logan." She quickly told him. "It doesn't mean what you think it does." He turned to look at her skeptically. "I swear," she assured him. "Mom has my baby stuff all stored away for when the time comes for me to pass it on. All this means is that someday she planned on making you and uncle."
They were silent again, staring down at the collection of things, knowing that now Logan would never have the chance to be an uncle—at least not by blood. Maybe that, at least, was for the best; Honor would have made a wonderful mother but the rest of his family was not something he would have wished upon his greatest enemy, let alone a tiny, innocent child. Logan put the baby things with the rest of the stuff he would be taking with him.
They had finally made their way through the whole apartment and Logan took one last look around the bedroom, preparing to leave. He and Rory both started to make their way back into the living room, but Logan suddenly stopped. "Wait."
Rory stopped as Logan walked towards the small desk in the corner upon which sat a lap top computer and a printer. He picked up an accordion folder up off the surface of the desk.
"What's that?" she asked.
He pulled out the papers and looked at the top sheet.
Life as We Know it
By Honor Huntzberger.
"It's her book." He smiled brightly at the pages before him. She had really done it. She had written a book.
"Her what?"
"Her book." He looked up at Rory. "She wrote a book."
They had gotten home from the city late, nearly midnight in fact, and Logan had decided just to do some light reading before he went to bed. He had changed into his Yale sweat pants and t-shirt and sat down on the couch with his sister's manuscript.
Ten hours later he tiredly put the pages down. He had fallen asleep on the couch around 3 AM and had woken again at 9 and he had just continued reading. Lawrence, the lovable, trouble making brother of the main character, Hope, was about to have drunken sex with his best friend, Aurora. Apparently Honor hadn't been lying when she said she needed some new material for her book. The funny thing was, the sexual tension between Lawrence and Aurora had been intense from the very first chapter. Had it been planned that way by Honor just for her story? Or did he and Rory really have that kind of chemistry long before they even realized it?
As Logan waited for the coffee to brew, he sent occasional glances towards the sofa and the waiting manuscript. He knew he was going to give in a read the rest of it. Would Honor have written things the way they actually happened? While the characters were certainly based off of the real people in his sister's life, only bits and pieces of actual events had been used thus far—so maybe he wouldn't have to read a narrative of the complete mess he'd made of his life. Plus, Honor had finished the book which meant that the end was written before he and Rory made up. He figured Honor to be the 'happy ending' kind of girl. But then the question was—how did it end?
Logan filled a mug with the coffee, took a big, comforting sip, and headed back to the couch.
It was just passed noon as Rory made it back to her room after her classes. She liked not having any afternoon classes on Friday because it gave her a chance to get a lot of her homework out of the way before the weekend really began. She threw her book bag down on the couch in the common room and collapsed next to it. Maybe today she would just take a nap instead. She was exhausted from having gotten back from the city so late and then having to get up for an 8 AM class.
She curled her feet under her, and laid her head down on the arm rest of the sofa knowing Paris wouldn't be home for another few hours anyway. Just as she was about to drift off, she was startled awake again by a knocking at the door. She started to get up when she head it again. Rory rolled her eyes. "I'm coming, I'm coming," she groaned as she approached the door, turning the lock and pulling it open.
"I'm an idiot." Logan walked into the apartment.
Rory closed the door and turned to look at him. "Umm…ok," she replied.
Logan paced back and forth in front of Rory who was still standing in front of the door, wondering what was going on.
"I'm an idiot," he repeated.
"So you've said."
"I mean, Lawrence can figure it out, so why the hell can't I?" he asked, waving his hands around manically, clutching on to a large green folder.
"Lawrence?"
"Yes, Lawrence," he repeated, taping the folder agitatedly with his free hand.
"Is that Honor's book?" Rory asked, still incredibly confused.
Logan gave her a look. He didn't say anything, but the look said it all. She could almost hear the look replying "well duh."
"OK, just checking," she held her hands in front of her in surrender.
"I stayed up all night reading it."
"You haven't slept?
"Well, OK, I didn't stay up all night, but that's hardly the point here." He snapped.
"The point which would be that…you're an idiot?" she asked.
"Exactly."
"OK, you seem strangely perturbed. Perhaps it would be best if we sat," she suggested, taking his arm and leading him to the couch. They both took a seat. "Now why don't you try explaining this to me again. Perhaps give me a little more than the name of a character from your sister's book and a self deprecating comment."
Logan sighed. "This," he said, holding up the manuscript and then placing it down on the coffee table, "is how it was supposed to happen. Lawrence is me—or at least the old me. This guy I've been lately—it's not who I am. I don't shy away from something I want just because I'm scared of all the 'what ifs.' I'm Logan freaking Huntzberger, I don't get scared. I laugh in the face of 'what ifs.'"
"Well you've been through a lot lately, you're bound to be a little shaken up, it's natural."
"No," he shook his head. "Even before everything with Honor happened I was acting like an idiot. I was scared. I was so scared because you were always one of the most important people in my life and then in one night, everything changed and as much as you meant to me before, you suddenly meant so much more. I'm not used to being that reliant on people, Rory. Sure, I've always relied on you and Honor, and Colin and Finn and Steph, but mostly, I've always relied on myself and suddenly I realized how much I needed you and it scared me to death because I knew I could lose you."
"Logan," she brought her hand up to gently cup his cheek.
"But it's stupid. Fear is stupid—or at least letting it control me like that was, and it wasn't me. Lawrence reminded me of that."
Rory glanced at the folder on the table. "What did he do?" she asked curiously, reaching her arm out for the story.
Logan grabbed her hand. "Something I should have done a long time ago," he replied, forcing her to look him in the eyes.
"What?" she swallowed hard under his suddenly intense gaze.
"Told his best friend that he loved her, and he wanted to be with her."
"Logan," she whispered as his lips inched their way closer and closer. He kissed her, softly at first and she responded, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her mouth opened for him and he pushed his tongue inside. He leaned her back until she was lying on the couch. His hands went to the small expanse of skin on her midriff that was exposed from the bunching of her shirt.
"I love you, Ace, and I want to be with you," he whispered in between kisses. She suddenly pushed him back up.
"OK, now I really need to find out what happened," she responded with a smirk.
He looked at her incredulously as she sat up, until she reached out for the manuscript again and he suddenly laughed. "Hey," he playfully slapped her hand. "You're about to break one of the cardinal rules of the literati. 'Thou shalt not read the end of the book first.'"
"No fair," she pouted.
"Nuh uh, no way," he shook his head vehemently. "You're not going to get to me with that Bambi pout."
Her pout grew. "Hmmp," she crossed her arms over her chest and turned away slightly. "Some boyfriend you are."
Silence filled the room. "What did you say?" he asked after a moment.
"Boyfriend," she replied cautiously, turning her head back to face him and nervously biting on her lip.
He grabbed her and kissed her again. "I like the sound of that," he whispered, their lips now separated, but their foreheads still pressed together
"Are you sure?" she asked. "You're not scared anymore?"
Logan chuckled ironically. "I'm absolutely terrified," he admitted. "But if it isn't scary, it isn't worth doing." He ran his thumb softly over her cheek and brought his lips down again. "Yep, definitely worth it."
"Logan?"
"Hmm?"
"I love you too…now be a good boy and go get me some coffee to drink while I read," she ordered, once again, trying to reach for Honor's book on the coffee table.
"I don't think so," he laughed, tackling her and pinning her down on the couch, holding her hands above her head with one of his own as he leaned down to kiss her, his free hand traveling teasingly up and down her side. "You see, after Lawrence confesses his feelings to his girl, they have mad passionate sex right on the couch in the middle of her dorm."
"Is that so?" Rory giggled.
"Uh huh," he nodded.
"So you're trying to tell me that your sister wrote a torrid love seen for her little brother's alter ego?"
"Ugh," he pulled back. "Oh god, what the hell was I thinking," he cringed. "I'm really going to have to work on the lies I use to get you into bed with me."
Rory laughed, and gently pulled Logan down on top of her again. "How about we just make our own ending," she whispered as her lips found his again. This time they continued on uninterrupted, experiencing all the perks of being more than just friends—and this time it was anything but meaningless.