A/N: Hope you enjoy this!

Chapter Thirty-Seven

"Rory, I have a story for you," Doyle said, coming up to Rory at her desk in the Yale Daily News office. She was working on a story that was set for a deadline only twenty minutes from then, and Rory was having trouble making the quotes she had gotten fit in the body of the story.

"Um, okay…" Rory said distractedly, reading through the last paragraph of the story. She wrinkled her nose. Something was off, and she felt more and more like a failure with each unfruitful read-through.

"Gilmore, why is your attention there and not here?" Doyle asked impatiently, pointing at his face.

"I'm sorry," Rory said hurriedly. "It's just that this story is due in…" she looked down at her watch, "…eighteen minutes now, and I can't get this last quote to mesh."

Doyle sighed, moving around to stand behind her. He read through the article over her shoulder quickly, and then leaned forward, pointing at various parts of the story as he said, "Move this here. Pull this down. Move that quote up." He pulled back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now you're done."

Rory quickly did what he said and then stared at the screen. "I've been staring at this piece for an hour and got nowhere. You look at it for less than thirty seconds and fix everything."

"And that is why I am Editor-and-Chief," Doyle said breezily. "Alright, can I have your full attention now?"

Rory nodded, turning her head to follow him as he stepped back in front of her desk. "Yes, you have my full attention."

"I have a story for you," Doyle repeated. "Do you want it?"

"Well, what is it about?"

Doyle shook his head. "That's not how this works, Gilmore."

"What?"

"I offer you a story and you either take it or it goes to someone else. No questions."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" Doyle asked, stone face in place.

"No, you do not," Rory said. "Okay, fine, I'll take the story. Can I hear what it's actually about now?"

"Yes. Yes, you can." Doyle pulled the manila folder out from under his arm and flipped it open, pulling out a photocopied page of an old Yale Daily News. He handed it to her and she read the headline quickly.

"The Life & Death Brigade: The Gilded Underbelly of Yale," Rory read.

"Not the best headline," Doyle said. "But keep reading."

She read through the article quickly, her journalist senses going off big time. There was a story here. She didn't know what it was, considering the article was from 1952, but there was something.

"There's never been definitive proof that the Life & Death Brigade exists, but everyone knows that it does."

"I've never heard of them."

"That's because you, Gilmore, live under a rock. Every big prank here has their name in fine print."

"So, what do you want a story about?" Rory asked. "The history of the secret societies or something?"

"No," Doyle scoffed. "You'll put our readers straight to bed. I want an inside look at the society. I want to read scenes of their events. Quotes from their members. I want a feature story that takes readers to the very heart of the Life & Death Brigade."

"I don't know if you fully grasp the concept of secret society," Rory said slowly.

"Did you notice the people in the picture?" Doyle asked when she looked up. She glanced back down at the caption under a picture of a group of young men outfitted in blazers and slacks, and saw one of the men identified as Elias Huntzberger.

"Logan Huntzberger is one of them," Doyle said. "That picture there is proof."

She was about to return that he couldn't be one hundred percent sure of that, but then she remembered all the odd weekend trips Logan, Colin and Finn seemed to take. And then the odd gorilla mask she had found in Logan's dorm last week. If she had found it in Finn's dorm it would have seemed normal. Logan's, though, was a different story. Maybe Doyle was on to something.

"What do you want me to do?"

"You're close with Logan," Doyle said. It wasn't a question, but she nodded anyway.

"Yeah, we're friends."

"Then that's your in," Doyle said. "And that's one hell of an in, if I do say so. If I know anything – and I know a lot – Logan is one of the ring leaders."

"He's only a freshman."

"Yeah, but he's a Huntzberger," Doyle said. "And a name carries more weight than anything else here. Talk with him. Get him to take you to one of their events."

"How? It's a secret society."

"I don't care how you have to do it," Doyle said. "Bake him cookies. Get him drunk. Use your womanly wiles." She gave him a look. "Do whatever it takes. You took this story, remember."

Rory exhaled sharply. "Alright, I'll do it."

Doyle grinned wide. "Great. I expect it on my desk next Saturday by five o'clock."

"You're only giving me a week and a half?"

"Deadlines are part of a journalist's life, Gilmore,' Doyle said dismissively. "Better get used to it."

"Fine," she said, saving the piece on the computer and standing up. "Next Saturday by five o'clock."

"I look forward to reading it."

"He's insane," Rory said, sitting with Nick in the dining hall. She reached across the table and plucked a French fry from off his plate. "It's a secret society. There's no way they're letting me in. And he completely overestimates the effect of my friendship with Logan."

"Well, just do your best, and if you can't get in then you can't get in."

"He'll never let me live it down," Rory said. She grabbed another French fry from his plate. For good measure she grabbed a second.

"You know, you should have listened to me when I told you to get your own fries," Nick said, grinning a bit as she stuffed the French fries into her mouth.

"I'm sorry," Rory said, swallowing. "I'm eating all your food."

"No, I mean, it's fine," he said. "I'm done, anyway. Not all of us have bionic appetites like you. But, if I know you at all, I know that you could probably put down your own order and my leftovers. Especially when you're stressed out like right now."

Rory laughed. "You're right. I could use my own order."

He leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss. "Stay here. I'll be right back with those fries."

She watched him leave and took a handful of French fries off his plate. She shoved them in her mouth, making speech nearly impossible when Colin sat next to her.

"You're stress eating," Colin noted. "What's going on?"

It took her a moment to swallow – with the large volume of fries shoved in her mouth – and she said, "Newspaper stuff."

"You know, I don't care," Colin said. "But…I have a few minutes before class so…shoot."

"You're going to class?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. My professor said if I missed one more class he was going to make me write an extra paper for the class. So, I guess I'll show up. I really only have to just sit there."

"At least he's not failing you."

"I would've preferred that," Colin said. He reached forward and took a French fry off Nick's plate. "Anyway, tell me your problems, Reporter Girl."

Rory hesitated for a moment. There was a good chance Logan would be uncomfortable with her trying to get dirt on the Life & Death Brigade – if it even existed. There was a very good chance Colin would take it worse. But she was stressed and he was there. So, she told him the conundrum Doyle put her in.

"Well, that sucks," Colin said, picking another French fry off the plate. "Lucky for you, I don't give a shit about secret societies and all that."

"You don't?"

He shook his head. "I just like an excuse to drink and do stupid shit. Which is precisely what we all are doing this weekend."

"We?"

He gave her a look and her eyes widened. "Oh. Uh, this weekend?"

Colin nodded. "You doing anything?"

"No," she answered quickly.

"Alright, well keep it that way. We'll pick you up at nine. Be ready then or the shuttle leaves with you."

"The shuttle?"

"It's just a turn of phrase," Colin said, waving his French fry in this air dismissively. "But, we'll be there at nine."

"Okay, um, thank you. This is…just, thank you."

"Like I said. I don't give a shit about the secrecy and all that." He grabbed her pop and took a swig. "But, the others do. So, uh, for the sake of my ass not being fried, let's keep this between the two of us?"

She nodded quickly. "Of course."

"Cool. Alright, I have to head to class."

Rory glanced at her watch and said, "Colin, class started ten minutes ago."

"I know. I told the guy I'd be there. Never said I'd be there on time."

Rory smiled slightly, shaking her head in disbelief as he meandered off to his classroom. Nick returned with a basket of French fries and said, "Wow, you demolished my leftover fries."

"I had some help," Rory said. "Colin stopped over."

"And what did Colin have to say?"
Rory thought of what Colin had told her and said, "Nothing. He was just on his way to class."

Nick nodded, plucking a few fries from the basket. "Alright. You know, I think I'm getting my second wind here."

The weekend came quickly and Rory was prepared with her notebook and a full list of questions. She didn't know what to expect. She did some research on traditional secret society events, but none of them seemed like the sort of thing that would happen at Yale. After a while she decided that she would just wait it out and see what happened. A knock sounded on her door at exactly nine o'clock. She found it a bit ironic for a group of guys who she honestly believed were never punctual a day in their life.

"Hello Rory," Stephanie said at the door, face guarded.

"Hi, uh, did Colin send you?"

"Yes," she said simply. "Come with me."

They walked down the stairs to the exit and Stephanie led her to the back of the building where students rarely went. She nearly yelped aloud when someone grabbed her from behind and slipped a blindfold over her eyes.

"What the-"

"Ace, relax," Logan said, rubbing her arm. "It's just part of protocol."

"Okay," she said, slowly acclimating to the deprivation of one of her senses. Logan took her arm and led her to what she assumed was the street. "Don't you think it'll look a little strange for me to be wandering around campus with a blindfold on?"

"No stranger than Finn streaking or any of us hopping parking meters."

"Your logic needs work."

"We're almost there."

He was true to his word, and a moment later she was ducking her head to get into a car. Logan slipped in beside her and reached over and buckled her in. She noticed that she didn't hear a similar click beside her and she said, "You buckle me in but not yourself?"

"I live my life dangerously, Ace."

"I can see that. Well, not literally since I'm blindfolded."

"No, not literally," he agreed, the smile evident in his voice. They were silent for a moment and he said, "You want me to put on my seatbelt, don't you?"

"It takes minimal effort. And if we get in a car accident, you are statistically less likely to be killed."

"Statistically less likely?" he teased.

"I don't have the figures with me right now, but yes."

"For the love of God, just put on your seat belt," Colin complained from the front. Rory heard the click of his seatbelt and Logan said, "All of you happy now?"

"The happiest I've ever been," Colin deadpanned.

"So, where are we going?" Rory asked.

"We can't tell you," Logan said. "Why do you think you're wearing the blindfold, Ace?"

"Because you like to make me look ridiculous."

Logan laughed. "That's not entirely untrue. But it's serving a higher purpose."

"Can you at least tell me what we're doing?"

"I promise you'll like it."

"I like a lot of things," Rory returned. 'That tells me nothing."

"Keep your pants on," Colin said. "We're almost there."

"Seriously?" As far as Rory could tell, they were only in the car for five or six minutes tops.

"No," he said. "But I was hoping that would shut you up."

"Colin, be nice," Logan said, knocking his elbow convivially against Rory's. He leaned in toward her and stage-whispered, "If I didn't know any better I'd say he wasn't the one who invited you."

"Hey, I'm not saying anything," Rory said. "Not going to bite the hand that feeds me." Logan snapped his teeth together and she laughed. "Yes, exactly that is what I'm not doing."

"It's really not that much farther," Logan told her. "About twenty minutes, Colin, right?"

"Yep, about that."

"See, Ace, not much further. Then all of your questions will be answered."

Rory didn't know what she expected for the afternoon, but a campsite piled high with sleeping bags was not on the list. Logan folded the blindfold and said, "It's not one of our bigger events, but it's something."

"Hold on, let me get something straight. Yale's big bad secret society goes camping?"

"Everyone loves a good camping trip," he answered reasonably. "Come on, we better catch up with the others."

They hurried behind the others who were already starting to set up the campsite. Rory saw a small assortment of food, but the main items being unloaded from bags were bottle after bottle of liquor.

"Oh boy," she murmured. "Why do I have a feeling that tonight is going to be a lot of binge drinking?"

"It's camping," Logan answered. "What else is there to do? Come on, we want to get a good spot."

"What constitutes a good spot?"

"One by the food."

They grabbed a spot next to a large pile of Twizzlers. Rory had never seen so many bags in one place and she happily grabbed one, tearing the top open and pulling one out. As she chewed on the end Logan offered her a beer.

"Nope, not happening buddy. I'm here on official Yale Daily News business. I need to have all of my senses here and ready to observe."

"Oh yeah, I forgot you get drunk off of one beer," Logan teased.

"Hey, most of us under 21 are like that."

"Well, I can tell you, it's no one here."

She pulled out her notebook from her bag and said, "Anyone you suggest I go talk to first?"

Logan shook his head, reaching in the bag of Twizzelrs on her lap and pulling one out. "Just don't talk to the kid over there in the red beanie."

Rory looked around and spotted him. "Why?"

"Because he is both morally and regularly opposed to you being here. Everyone else should be fine."

"Right-o," she said, standing up. He pulled out another few Twizzlers and she said lightly, "Try to leave some for the others now."

She got a collection of quotes from the other members of the Life & Death Brigade, most of them lending some real insight into the group. Others, largely Finn Rothschild, offered colorful expletives. She thought that Doyle would probably prefer her keeping those from the article.

"Let's see how those quotes of yours are going, Ace," Logan said, coming up from behind her and snatching the notebook from her hands.

"Logan-"

"You got five – no, six – pages? Seriously?"

"I'm not done."

"You deserve a beer," Logan insisted, holding the notebook out of reach when she tried to get it back. "This is some hard work in here. You should reward yourself."

"Will you give me the notebook back if I have a beer? And let me stress what I just said. A beer. Not several. One."

"That's fine," he said dismissively. "So, you ready to celebrate?"

She took the beer from him, giving him a look before taking a swig. She didn't get any more quotes that night.

The hours seemed to go by slowly and quickly at the same time. She had no real grasp of time as one hour bled into the next. All she knew was that Twizzlers and vodka were a wonderful mix, and if she could have only one thing for the rest of her life, it would be that. Or maybe coffee. She wasn't entirely sure.

"Sleep time," Logan slurred, slumping clumsily against a tree. "Definitely sleep time."

"Yes," Rory agreed, nodding once and then twice. She did it one more time for good measure. "Sleep is good. I like sleep." She looked around blearily. "Where do I sleep?"

"Where's your sleeping bag?"

"Sleeping bag…I didn't bring a sleeping bag!"

"Why would you not bring a sleeping bag to a camping trip, Ace?"

"I didn't know we were going on a camping trip! No one would tell me where we were going, remember?"

"Alright, alright," Logan said, yawning wide. "Come on, you'll just sleep with me."

"What?"

"We'll sleep in the same bag. You're tiny."

"It's im…" she searched for the end of the word, "bad. It's imbad."

"That's not a word."

"Your face isn't a word," she returned childishly.

"I promise not to try anything," he said. "I know you're spoken for. By a man. With, if I do say so myself, stupid taste in t-shirts."

"I like his t-shirts," she shot back. "They're ironic."

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say," he said, crouching down and climbing into the sleeping bag. He slid himself to the farthest side and then said, "Your turn."

"Are you sure there's room for me in there?"

"I promise," he said nodding. "Come on, Ace. I'm exhausted."

"You should give me the bag and sleep on the ground," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Ace, either get in the bag or you're sleeping on the ground."

She didn't like the idea of sleeping on the hard ground all night and quickly climbed in beside him, shifting so that their bodies didn't touch. That was a difficult feat in such a small sleeping bag, though, and she found the more she wriggled and shifted the more her leg rubbed against his and her side brushed his.

"Would you stop moving?" Logan complained.

"I can't get comfortable."

"Why don't you try not moving? I bet you that'd help," he said sarcastically.

She turned on her back and tugged the sleeping bag up to her chin. His leg pressed heavily against hers and his arm laid beside her own. The closeness of him sobered her somewhat and she felt her heartbeat quicken. She was silent, and he was similarly at a lack of words.

"Uh, good night, Ace," he said, clearing his throat.

"Good night, Logan."

She woke up some time later. It must have still been in the middle of the night, because the camping ground was still blanketed in darkness around them. She felt a weight on her hip and realized that she was pressed to his side, his hand laying heavily on her waist. Her chin was resting on his chest, his steady heartbeat beneath her. She tilted her face up and let her eyes rove over his face. She hadn't done this since they were together, and she remembered how much she liked the stillness of him when he slept. Awake, he was constantly in motion. He was motion and action, but here he was still. Emboldened by the darkness surrounding them, she whispered softly.

"I miss you."

His eyes drifted open and if she weren't literally held in place by the sleeping bag she would have jumped up and run far away. Instead she stayed where she was and Logan's arm tightened around her waist.

"I miss you, too."

A/N: As much as I've enjoyed writing all the Nick/Rory scenes, that last little Rogan one made my heart flutter! Hope you enjoyed it just as much!