Rory was going to end up as one of those people who ruined their eyes staring at screens all day. The text on her computer jumped around so much that Rory began wondering what type of glasses suited her face best. She had been up since 6 AM. The entire team was running on fumes, her included. Rory was so tired that her fingers were buzzing.

Scratch that, it was only her phone.

Squeezing her eyes shut to focus her eyes, Rory answered.

"I managed to get a reservation at a restaurant with so many Michelin stars that Gordon Ramsey cries himself to sleep about it. Dress code is pretty lax so I can wing by in 10 and pick you up?"

"Logan?"

"The one and only."

Rory sighed. "I can't. They still need me here for," Rory checked the clock, "2 more hours."

"Christ, Rory these people have you working like any of that shit matters. Nobody can cover for you?"

"No, they can't," Rory said. She rubbed her eyes until she saw spots.

"Rory, c'mon. I haven't seen you in days. You're gone when I wake up and you're at work when I come back. I'm sick of it."

Logan's voice was getting very irritating.

"Look, I have to go," Rory said.

"Rory–"

She ended the call before Logan could say anything else. She slumped over and let her head hit her desk with a thump. Rory still hadn't told Logan that she was going to therapy or that she wasn't leaving her job. After his tipsy rant about the world of mental health care, Rory was even more reluctant to say anything at all. She was going to, of course. She went to therapy, she knew what to do. What she didn't know is how to find the right time to tell Logan. It would probably involve an in-depth conversation about her future, which was something she didn't want to have with Logan because she didn't know if she wanted him to be part of her future.

Well, she did want him but the math wasn't adding up.

'Where exactly are you, Logan and Odette going Rory?'

Rory was stubbornly holding on to the idea that Logan and Odette were a phase. A phase Logan was going to outgrow the same way he was he going to outgrow the hold his father had on his life. Talking to Deva made her realize something, though. She and Logan never discussed how they would become Logan and Rory. After Logan had told her about his...marriage, Rory had stopped thinking about it. After the Logan reassured her that the maids at his villa were full of crap, Rory had stopped thinking about it. Rory had decided to sit and wait for Logan to divorce Odette and be with her even though the odds of that happening were slim.

Slim chances aside, what if Logan did it? If Logan divorced Odette he would be fine. Mitchum would be furious but that didn't matter. Logan was talented, he could find a job anywhere. Even if he didn't, he had money to spare. Rory knew that she Logan and Odette weren't going anywhere but she didn't want to give up when Rory and Logan didn't even get a chance to start.

Rory checked the time on her phone. She jerked straight up. She had spent over half an hour with her head down thinking about what to do with her and Logan.


Logan wasn't at the apartment when she got home. Grabbing a glass of water in the kitchen she noticed two previously full bottles of wine sat in the sink. She sighed and tossed them into the recycling bin. She was so tired that her eyes were itching. On the train home, she had fallen asleep on and understanding schoolgirl and woke up to a gaggle of 14-year-old girls giggling at her. Rory wanted to sleep for the next forty years or until she was dead. Whichever came first. Trying not to be a flaming trash heap of a woman, Rory swished her mouth with a little Listerine and wiped her makeup off with wet tissue. She'd wash her face when she woke up. She charged her phone and dropped it on the bedside table and let the weight of her exhaustion depress her body into the mattress. She would've passed out in a second if her phone didn't start vibrating again.

Rory groaned and shoved her head under her pillow. Her voicemail would get it. When her phone stopped buzzing, Rory relaxed and waited for sleep to take her. As the edge of the waking world began to dissolve, her phone buzzed again. Rory squeezed her eyes as tightly as possible and again waited for the buzzing to stop. The phone gods listened to her because the buzzing soon came to an end. Rory sat up and stared at her quiet phone. If it vibrated again while she was sitting up, she would answer it. Moments passed and the phone stayed still. Thinking the worst was over, Rory snuggled into bed and closed her eyes only for them to snap back open at the sound of her phone.

Moaning in frustration, Rory rolled over and finally answered. "Hello?" she croaked.

"You sound happy to hear my voice," said Lorelai.

"Mom?" Rory replied, sitting up, "Was that you calling all three times?"

"You bet."

"Is something wrong?"

"Nope."

"Then can we rain check this conversation? I'm so tired I can't even see. I just got home."

"Out on the town? I learn new things about you every day, huh?"

"What? Things at work are busy so I start early and end late. Way late. Is this an emergency or something?"

"There's no emergency! But if there was an emergency, I would tell you first cause that's our deal, Rory. That's our thing."

Despite being so tired she was damn near hallucinating, Rory could still hear the brimming argument in her mother's voice.

"I just asked you if something was wrong and you said no but now you're mad at me and I'm too tired to know why."

"Why would ever believe a woman when she says nothing after you ask her if anything's wrong?"

"I don't have the energy to play guessing games right now."

"How could you tell Emily that you were dunzo with journalism before you told me? That was big news, kid. You always tell me the big news first. That's the deal."

Rory was sure she was hallucinating now. There was no way her mother was yelling at her for telling her grandmother good news before her.

"You're not serious," Rory said.

"I'm completely serious. She didn't deserve to know before me."

Her mother's voice held a strange resemblance to nails on a chalkboard at the moment.

"It's not your job to decide who I can and can't talk to. She's my grandmother. She's your mother!"

"I know that! You know what she's like. She's a dream pooper! Telling her good news is asking to get pooped on. Are you crazy?"

"Are you? She had nothing but nice things to say. What is your problem?"

"Don't worry, that's going to last about 5 seconds, kid. The Emily Gilmore playbook doesn't allow for extended happiness for anyone other than herself."

"Stop calling me kid! I'm not a kid." Rory snapped.

"Fine. I hope you and grandma are very happy together." Lorelai said before hanging up the phone.

Rory stared down at her phone in disbelief. She couldn't understand what had just happened but was too tired to do anything about it. She turned her phone off and drew the covers over her head.

Rory woke up late in the day, streaks of the setting sun tickling her face. She felt hungover. She had a couple of hours until she had to head back to the office and was too ravenous to cook anything healthy and hearty from the organic, free-range groceries in the kitchen. Lean Cuisine to the rescue. She turned the microwave on, turned around and yelped.

"Jesus, calm down," Logan said, walking passed her and opening and closing the fridge.

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here, remember?"

Rory didn't respond, she focused on eating her lean cuisine breakfast/lunch. She leaned against the counter, grabbed a fork and pulled back the plastic film. She watched Logan putter around the kitchen and make himself a rum and coke. He turned to her.

"You're not even going to ask what I'm doing here in the middle of the day."

"I did ask," Rory replied, swallowing a bite of molten pasta and cheese.

"I've been trying to call you all day," he said.

"I turned my phone off, I needed the sleep."

Logan leaned over the sink and looked out the window. "One of the newer digital newspapers that my dad owns some stock in is looking for a writer. I could get you an interview. It's mostly American politics but you could probably work your way up to international in a few months. Maybe score a nice trip to Dubai."

Like a twitchy little hamster, Rory packed her cheeks with food to stall for an answer. "That's okay, you don't have to waste your time with an interview."

"Why the hell not? You think you belong in that cubicle proofreading Viagra ads?"

Rory lost her appetite. She tossed what was left of her meal into the garbage. "Can we talk about this some other time? I have to get ready for work."

Logan followed her to the bedroom. "Don't tell me you actually want to stay at that place." He said with a roll of his eyes, "Even if you became a writer over there, advertising isn't real writing. Don't throw away your talent over a fucking snack bar."

"First of all, it's a snack cabinet. Second all stop talking to me like I'm an idiot. I know I'm a good writer, I know I'm talented and what I do with those things is my decision. Leave it alone already."

"I can't believe it," Logan said with a shake of his head, "I thought you would be grateful."

"I don't need any jobs from you, okay?"

"You just took the one I gave you at that stupid agency."

Rory sighed and covered her face with her hands. "I don't want to do this anymore," she muttered.

"Do what? Listen to sense?"

"No. I don't want to be a journalist anymore."

Logan waved the sentence away, "Yes you do. Don't say shit like that to make me mad."

"Not everything is about you! Listen to me. I don't want that job. I'm staying at BCB."

"You're out of the job for five minutes and you want to give up? That's bullshit, Rory. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing is wrong with me. This is what I want! Why can't you let this go?"

"Because you're making a fucking mistake! I'm trying to help you."

"I don't need your help! I know what I'm doing!"

Logan put his hand on his hips and shook his head, "Where is this coming from? A few months ago you would do anything to work as a journalist and now you don't want shit to do with it."

Crossing her arms, Rory said, "My therapist told me–"

"Rory come on," Logan replied rolling his eyes, "A therapist? No wonder you're acting nuts."

"Logan–"

"No, listen to me." Logan grabbed her shoulders, "All those people do is screw you up even more so you keep coming back. It's a scam."

"Stop it, Logan," Rory replied, twisting away from him. "Therapy has been amazing. It's been good for me."

"Amazing? You never leave the house, you're at work at all hours of the day, and you never even fucking look at me when you are home and now you're fucking over your future because you're too scared to try. She's screwing you."

"She's screwing me because everything I'm doing is screwing you? Fuck you."

"She's changing you! The Rory I know wouldn't do this." Logan replied as he ran a hand through his hair.

"I have to get ready for work," Rory replied. She pushed passed Logan, stepped into the bathroom, and closed the door.

Logan didn't come after her.