AN: Thank you for your amazing reviews! So... You've earnt yourself a new update in unplanned record time. The next one is expect to be a major word count so it will take time. Reference for this are: Cher - Shoop Shoop Song from the movie Mermaids & David Gray - Please Forgive me. Enjoy.


June 2014

Seattle

"Because I love you, you idiot."

"Wow, I.."

"Don't say anything!" Rory's hands quickly slapped over his mouth, blocking his words. "Please, please don't say anything. I don't even… I didn't mean to spring that on you. You don't have to say anything. Let's just forget I said it…"

Her eyes frantically searched his face in panic. She couldn't read him; she could never read him. Logan looked stunned but wasn't pulling away, the opposite, the hand that once smudged her tears away, continued to stroke her cheek. Rory slowly retracted her hands, uncovering his mouth.

Its only seconds before his face shift into the determined expression she came to recognize; in one swift move, Logan leans in, his hand cradling the back of her head, his lips capturing hers. They are soft; his lip is always incredibly soft and inviting like a honey trap. Logan deepens the kiss, and it lasts until they are entirely breathless.

"I know you can do that.. but…" Rory whispered shakily, the tips of her fingers grasped limply at the edges of his shirt collar. As if it was the only thing stopping her from being swallowed up by some whirlpool.

His lips quickly pecked hers again, making her swallow her follow up questions. "Cher is never wrong,"

He relished in his response like he somehow got the upper hand. He glows like he experienced some epiphany she didn't share.

"Food's getting cold, let's eat." His hand pulled her off the floor into a standing position; she just goes with it, like she always does when she freezes, and he's taking control of the situation.

What just happened?

"Thursday at 7 p.m." Logan stops unpacking the takeaway food mid-way, looking at her expectedly. Her brain is like a cloud of cotton candy; she never heard anything he said.

"What?"

"Dinner at Ben's."

~w~


"I've been subpoenaed." Rory jotted down the last tasks and closing details before closing her notebook at the end of her monthly meeting with Ben.

"To court?" Ben wondered at loud scanning the new e-mails in his inbox.

"To dinner." Rory caught the hint of a smile on the man's face. Other than that, he gave no response. "Should I bring something? Wine? Cake? Shield of armor?"

"Nah, I think you're good. Logan has it covered. I never thought he'd cave." Ben looked very pleased with himself. "Anything else?" He added when her leaving the office prolonged.

Rory hesitated a moment, clenching on her notes. Asking Ben was her best chance; the man was a walking-talking Logan thesaurus. Oh, what the hell, it wasn't like she'd get any further explanation from Logan. He kept giving her this secret smile and shrugged. "Why is Cher never wrong?"

Ben's expression changed quickly from pleased to apprehensive. Logan's best friend seemed to be carefully considering his words. His eyes rapidly cast to the glass wall partitioning his and Logan's office. The last glass-wall standing. Logan was tied up on the phone, twirling the golf club away. She struck a chord; the mention of Cher meant something.

"I need more context."

Now she knew for sure he could disperse the fog for her. "Just something Logan said to me the other day."

"He went movie-geek on you? just out of the blue?" Her boss wore an obnoxiously amused expression on once again. It reminded her of someone. She felt like she visited this conversation before.

With Colin.

"Not exactly." Rory kept vague; she didn't want to show her hand. A Movie? "Last I checked Cher was a singer."

"True. I wouldn't consider her a stellar actress." Ben removed his glasses, cleaning them ceremonially. His tell. He was pointing her towards a clue. "But there are some movies, some soundtracks."

"Ben, can we stop talking in riddles?" Why couldn't he just tell her straight?

"Look it up." Her boss quickly retraced his steps. Damn his loyalty. "I'll see you Thursday."

Xx

Rory stormed back in the girls' shared office like a woman with a mission. She swung her chair impatiently, clicking on the browser to open a YouTube tab.

"Where's the fire?" Nicole wondered.

"What Cher songs do you know?" Rory asked, typing 'Cher songs' into the search line.

Nicole and Kate exchanged careful looks. Kate decided to bite, "Logan has a Cher ringtone."

"Not that one. Songs from movies." Rory dismissed the suggestion unfazed. Her blue eyes were scanning the entries that showed up on the webpage. None of the titles indicated part of the soundtracks.

"Ah. Well, there's the Shoop Shoop Song. You know the one." Kate moved from her desk to Rory's, taking control of the mouse, clicking on the video entry.

Rory's heart fluttered in her chest at first notes. 'Does he love me? I wanna know…'

"Oh, I love this song! Cher is such a badass." Nicole exclaimed as the song continued to play.

'If you wanna know if he loves you so. It's in his kiss.'

"Damn, he's one romantic bastard." Kate nudged Rory playfully and leaned to whisper so Nicole wouldn't hear. "Keep your pregnant hormones in check."

It's in his kiss.

~w~


"Ummm... hello?" Rory answered her phone, sleepily.

"I want to go to the stars thingy." Lorelai's voice charged down the phone. "Grandma said you are coming, and Logan will be there too."

"Mom? Where's the clock?" Rory felt around in the dark; the other side of the bed was empty. The only remains of Logan's earlier presence are his scent and the tennis ball he left behind. The light of the muted T.V. in the other room blinked through the open bedroom door. The man never sleeps.

"I mean, you said that I could meet Logan properly, and you know how good I am when there's booze involved!"

"One thirty!" Rory cried tiredly. Even just woken up, she could easily calculate the time difference.

"What? No, it's ten-thirty at yours! I know the time difference between Seattle and here. Were you sleeping? You never go to sleep that early." Lorelai seemed to quickly recover from this surprising information, moving on to a more pressing matter, "I mean, is there a reason I wasn't invited?

"Argh. Can't we talk about this tomorrow?" Rory whined to the phone. She was tired; every organ related to her reproductive system felt either sore, uncomfortable, or sensitive. All she wanted was to plunge back into her bed, although she slowly concluded that Logan's mattress upstairs was much more comfortable.

"It is tomorrow." Lorelai insisted, "I just don't think it's right that they get first dibs on him. I mean, I am your mom, and we are very close, in case you haven't heard, and I should get to know him first!"

Unlike before college, Rory would not say they are freakishly close anymore. They haven't been for the last couple of years.

"You already know him." This conversation felt surreal. What has sprung this on?

"But I don't know him - know him, like I will know him if you let me go to the stars thingy."

Ah, the planetarium event. Logan as her plus one. Emily Gilmore must have played on Lorelai's strings when Logan's RSVP came through. Her Grandmother probably gloated right in her mother's face. Rory was sure of it.

"I didn't think you'd want to come to the stars thingy." Rory prompted herself on the pillows.

"Why not?" Her mother sounded almost offended.

"Well, Grandma is hosting it at Yale, first of all, and we all know how you feel about the Logan situation. You've made your feelings pretty clear." Last they spoke on Thanks Giving Lorelai presented a firm stance on dis-acknowledging anything Logan. They barely spoke since then, one-liner text messages at best.

"Hey, this guy is in your life, and I want to know him. Don't you want me to know him?"

"Of course, I want you to know him."

"Okay, so –"

"Is dad coming?" Rory asked. It is best that her mother would have a chaperon.

"Of course, Tux is one of his best looks." Lorelai clicked off quickly as if to prevent both women from changing their minds.

Rory threw the blanket off her, flinging her legs over the edges of the bed. The persistence pressure in her bladder calling. All these stupid fluids Logan made her drink. Too quick. Rory closed her eyes, her hands supporting her body as a familiar dizzy spell attacked her. It happened more frequently in the last few days. Mostly on set where she sometimes spent crunched down to get the right angle of a shoot, but at work too, if she stood up too quickly.

Her hand moved to rub her lower back slowly as she made her way to the bathroom to relieve herself. The pains in her lower only seemed to dim after Logan rubbed a tennis ball over it. Some Physiotherapy trick. It's how she's fallen asleep.

But know they back.

The undertones of Logan's voice carried in the quiet apartment when she finished her business in the bathroom. Rory grabbed the abandoned tennis ball.

"Colin, I'll have to call you back. I have a call waiting." Logan lied to the invisible party on the other side of the phone. He still kept the conversation going for a few moments after Rory planted herself in his lap and the tennis ball in his hand.

Rory let out an involuntary moan at the first circular motions of the ball pressed a little more forcefully on her flesh over the nighty. Her face instinctively found the crook of his neck.

"It's so nice of you to pretend you're not dismissing the call you initiated to have sex. Tell Gilmore I can hear her moans from New York." Colin made sure to have the last word before ending the call.

"Colin's crass."

"Means he cares. Why you're up? Were you sick?" Logan's tone switched from amused to worried.

"No. My mom called. I don't want to talk about it." Rory added quickly; her hands found their way under his t-shirt, feeling up his abs.

It briefly crosses her mind that interactions with her mother undeniably fueled her need for physical contact with Logan. This isn't the first time she sought him after. Rory quickly pushed it to the back of her mind.

She and Logan seemed to find their comfortable rhythm again. A less hesitated dance. Dinner at Ben's went without a hitch; she wasn't sick despite her nervousness. Today was a good day. She wanted to keep it that way.

"You will have to tell me if you intend to take advantage of me," Logan smiled into her ear. His one hand kept rubbing the tennis ball, the other sliding up her naked thigh, his thumb fluttering over her nakedness. He was on to her.

"Logan," Rory's hand closed on him. Her teeth grazed his lower lips suggestively.

"You're making me feel cheap. Fine. I'll fuck you first, and then we'll talk."

~w~


"This coffee is disgusting. Why did we switch to this brand?" Rory complained loudly. The other two women in the breakroom didn't seem to share her sentiment. "I'm throwing it out. What happened to the purple pods? There was a gazillion of them yesterday. The purple pods were good."

"Well, as you already know, the old coffee machine broke down. Plus, George Clooney is the presenter for Nespresso - and he's hot." Shiri explained the logic behind the new coffee machine.

"Is that what you told Logan?"

"You'd be surprised – it wasn't a tough sell. Logan said that if it's good enough for George Clooney, it's good enough for him." Shiri's skillful hands hovered over Kate's eyebrows running a string over them.

Rory rolled her eyes. From Satellites to coffee machine Logan always wanted the same kind of toys George Clooney had.

"What's wrong with the Nespresso? It tasted the same for me. Maybe it's because…" Kate caught her words just in time, "Because I don't have your refined taste buds. I just drink it because it keeps me awake."

"If you throw it out, you'll have to bring your own because Logan cut down the coffee supply budget. And the rest is decaff."

Rory turned sharply towards the office manager, distressed, "Why would he do that?"

"Beats me." Shiri's muttered, her mouth closed around the string she used to plunk Kate's eyebrows. "I don't know why Logan does the things he does. I didn't feel like arguing with him."

"Since when?" Rory kept looking at the office manager, skeptically. He's Logan, and she's Shiri; there is no way this has gone down quietly without an argument. Logan would do it for sport, for the sake of the debate. Somewhere in the process, he supplied a reason.

"He might have said something about disproportioned consumption."

"Disproportioned consumption?! Of coffee?" Rory repeated in disbelieve. "He can't kill coffee."

"Not my decision, take that up with him. I just do what I'm told: Move the papers around, staple, field his calls, and admire his Lego models. You know, maybe I should ask for a raise." Shiri ignored the brunette studying her handy work on Kate's eyebrows, holding up scissors. "Just a little bit of a trim, and it's perfect."

"One day, the health department is going to close me down. You are breaking hygiene regulations in the workplace." Logan leaned against the break-room door. The wide edge of the golf club resting on his shoulder.

Shiri's roll of eyes was the only gesture the office manager paid to acknowledge him.

"You." Rory's face snapped from her two friends to her… coffee thief. "You killed coffee!"

Xx

"You can't do this, Logan. It's a degradation of the workplace environment." Rory ranted, following him back to his office. The coffee cup clasped tightly in her hand. It was disgusting, but it was better than decaff.

"There was only one type of coffee in here before. Now there's two. That's an upgrade. Everything is the same, just a different package." He ushered her in, closing the door behind her.

"First, decaff is not coffee. Second, no, it's not the same. This stuff is disgusting! Taste it! It's sour." She pushed the cup into his hands, daring him.

Logan took his time, lingering the liquid in his mouth. He made an undecided face, taking another.

"See what I mean?" Rory eyed him intensely.

"Nope." She could tell he was trying to contain a smile. He was enjoying this. "Taste perfectly fine to me. Maybe your taste buds are the problem."

"My taste buds have been masterly educated on the subject of coffee. They are carefully refined. Thank you very much - and this does not taste as it should. The purple pods are better. Where have they gone? There were plenty of them yesterday."

Logan sighed. He opened the drawer of his desk, throwing a purple pod her way, "One a day. You're switching to Decaff after this." He warns.

"Traitor. I'm leaving the bad coffee with you." Rory narrowed her eyes at him. Making her dramatic exit out of his office armed with the purple capsulate tightly in hand.

Xx

An hour later, Logan finds Rory emptying her stomach in the accessible stall. The sickness was new. As if finally, the image displayed on the ultrasound monitor and the heartbeat in audio hit home for Rory.

The past few days, everything made her sick. He caught her looking dizzy too but refrained from mentioning it after the first time when she went out of her way to hide it.

"Someone will see." She managed to make out between waves.

"I locked the door." Logan's dismissive tone indicated he doesn't particularly care. He sits down on the floor next to her, gently braiding the loose locks of her hair back. When the gagging stops, the toilet flush, he offers her the bottle of water he brought with him.

Rory shook her head, pressing her forehead into the cold porcelain seeking the cold sensation. Her vision momentary blacked. She felt dizzy. Logan was speaking, but the words didn't register. Just his worried tone.

"The purple pods make you sick. Mars bars make you sick too, aren't they?"

"And tacos. And burritos. And Samosas. The only thing I can keep down is apples and broccoli. It's all your fault." She accused. By now, no longer surprised Logan was keeping track, "A Gilmore baby would have never caused this."

"Huntzbergers are very opinionated. It's a family trait to announce our presence. Sorry about that." Logan chuckled, "So the apples are good?"

Rory nodded dejectedly, "I don't know what you put on it, but it works."

"Lemon juice." Logan kissed the crown of her head. Lemon, they discovered, seemed to wear off nausea. "What do you say we stick with the decaff but not too much? Less spicy food. And water, lots of water."

"Water makes me sick too," Rory grumbled. This new tidbit of information worried him.

"You need to drink water, Rory." Rory huffed in annoyance; she knew she did.

The doctor also scolded her that she didn't drink enough, but Logan didn't need reinforcement. Rory didn't tell him about the doctor's appointment after traces of blood appeared in her underwear. She knew he'd freak out in general, and even more once he'd learn the root of the matter was sexual intercourse. Rory knew, without a doubt, Logan would pull the plug on all things remotely sexual if he knew.

And she needed him not to while she dreaded the upcoming trip to the East coast.

Rory left the doctor's office slightly reassured the spotting was normal at this stage. The spotting didn't get any worse, but it didn't completely stop either.

"You want to sleep on the yellow couch again?" Logan's offered gently. He maneuvered her so she'd lay her head on his shoulder, his fingers unbraiding her hair. Rory, stubbornly enough, had only been persuaded a handful of times to take advantage of the piece of furniture he didn't bring himself to use.

But secretly, he loved watching her sleep on it knowing she was incubating his child. It was nearly poetic that a constant reminder of his past, a dubious gift from Chelsea, enabled his future.

Ben had laughed so hard when Logan unintentionally voiced it out loud.

"In a minute, I'm dizzy."

"Okay, is there anything else I need to be aware of?" Concern crept into his voice. Somehow they always ended up conducting meaningful conversations while sitting on the floor—especially in bathrooms.

"No," Rory said quickly, lifting her head too fast. The dizziness returned at once. She lowered her head back down. "Can you hum that song? The one you hum after we…"

"The David Gray song?"

Rory nodded distractedly. All this time, she had to do is just ask him what song it was?

~w~


"Logan. Finally! What's your estimated arrival?" Mitchum's voice explored into his ear after just one ring. "Barbara Ann was trying to contact you for hours! Natalie too! Your plane had landed hours ago! We talked about it, Logan, you can not just fall off the face of the earth like that."

Mitchum was mad.

Logan eyed the door he just exited helplessly. The bright wall of the fluorescent-lit corridor felt hostile. Logan knew that no matter where he'd take this call – what he needed to tell his father would not go down well.

"I'm not coming." Logan rubbed his neck, keeping the phone pressed to his ear.

"Logan, you are a keynote speaker at the Journalism Association conference. You have been invited to speak - do not humiliate me by bailing out last minute."

"Dad," Both men were familiar with the reluctance underlining the younger man's voice.

"And the board meeting, what about that? We scheduled it according to your schedule. You are taking over this company, Logan. People need to start recognizing your face and your role in this company. It's time to stop running and hiding in Seattle." Mitchum huffed in displeasure, "I've honored you because you've asked, but we have a deal - I keep my end; you keep your responsibilities to this company. And to this family."

Logan kept rubbing his neck. The conference, the Planetarium event too, like everything else was the last thing on his mind.

"You can manage it. I have more pressing responsibilities." Logan managed calmly; he always lost when going head to head with his dad if he didn't keep his cool.

"Goddammit Logan, it's a four days trip. The girl won't bail because you're on business for four days. Ben can handle Current; he's been doing it for three years quite successfully while you were in London. Family comes first, Logan."

Damn straight; family comes first. Logan felt his temper flare, but by some miracle, he managed to keep himself in check. Logan licked his lips; his mouth felt dry. The words bruised his tongue like gravel, "I'm at the hospital."

"Oh, for god sakes! What did you do now?"

"I'll call you later with the details. I have to make some urgent calls." Logan hanged up before his father could place another word in the edgeways. He quickly opened his phonebook and strolled down his contact until he reached Finn.

Logan sighed. This was one call he didn't want to make.

~w~


June 2009

New England

"What is she doing?" Lorelai asked Finn who watched Chelsea from a safe intervention distance.

For days Lorelai had watched with interest, the interior designer Finn suggested they hire wander around the building site that was the Pyramid. At first, the girl said she was looking for some inspiration. Lorelai let her be.

But two days ago, the blonde who answered to the name Chelsea Rose laid on her back with a sketch board hugged to her chest, staring at the ceiling. She didn't move for a whole day until Finn forced her home.

The next morning she returned, practicing the same position.

Now, for the third day, Chelsea laid on the floor again, her hands moving animatedly, pointing at various spots in the ceiling as if she was talking to someone. It went on for hours. Lorelai finally decided to get to the bottom of this weird behavior.

"She's writing Logan a sonnet," Finn answered as if it wasn't out of the ordinary.

"Are you sure she doesn't need hospitalization?" Lorelai challenged her business partner. His patient handling of the interior designer he called friend was admirable. Lorelai couldn't deny the girl was going through some existential crisis, yet she doubted the methods her friend believed in seemed to be working.

Finn sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets, "The only two people who can convince her into getting treatment is Logan and her father. I can't ask the first one, he's a mess, and he isn't talking to me at the moment. The other one disowned her."

"If she loves him so much, maybe she should just get back together with him."

"She would in a heartbeat. But it's never going to happen. She sliced his heart open most brutally. The divorce officially finalized in March."

Lorelai stayed silent for a moment, wondering if she should just ask. She's been curious about the circumstance of their parking lot meeting with Logan - Finn's friend who lived in London. The one who refused to help recruit the interior designer, who turned out to be his ex-wife.

"So, what happened?"

"You don't know? It was the hottest topic in Hartford for the longest time."

Lorelai glanced over to the woman on the dirty floor and back at Finn. "I refrain from the Hartford grapevine. I've been the topic of conversation one too many times. It's not fun once you're the scandal."

"Long story short, she was his queen since he was sixteen. Logan wanted to start a family, and she cheated on him." Finn lowered his voice, "On his birthday, in his bed. With a woman. She wanted him to catch her."

Lorelai gasped, "Why? How do you know that?"

"She told me. Sometimes who you are is bigger than what you desperately want to be."

"That's insightful." Lorelai chimed in thoughtfully.

"Chelsea and Logan, that was two stars on a collision route. They shouldn't have gotten married in the first place. The atmosphere is going to burn for a while. But she needs to do this." The Australian waved at the ceiling the blonde woman was talking to with some certainty, "Whatever this is. She needs to let him go. It's better for everyone involved that they are not together anymore."

~w~


June 2014

New England

"And this is what we unofficially call the Sonnet room." Lorelai Gilmore escorted the young couple into the last part of the wedding venue tour. Lorelai had perfected the show she put on for couples who expressed an interest to tie the knot at the Pyramid. She and Finn never planned it to be, but the Pyramid was a huge hit with couples.

The main hall with its nighttime ceiling was part of its allure.

Lorelai Gilmore loved weddings. She loved the sophisticated transformation a familiar venue underwent once the elegant flower arrangements were set in place, the tasteful dining arrangement laid out, the music played and the stylish dressed up people arrived—a celebration of senses.

Lorelai Gilmore loved weddings but never married herself. It wasn't that she was unlucky in love. She had her fair chances. In fact, she almost get married twice.

Once to a nice man who filled the room in a thousand daisies for her, Max. Rory's English teacher, was her first real grown-up relationship. In retrospect, she rushed into it and never took a step back to think, until the night before her wedding. That's when her cold feet won over; she packed Rory into her jeep in the middle of the night for a road trip and bailed on her groom.

She couldn't marry him. She didn't love him because she still loved someone else. As long as Christopher was in her life, Lorelai knew no other relationship will ever last. And thanks to Rory, he was in her life forever.

She was it for him. He was it for her.

Christopher had always wanted her, in his own selfish way, even when he had his shit to sort out. Now, the man she loved since sixteen was waiting patiently for her cold feet to warm.

Her second wedding was pending, on indefinite hold.

"The Sonnet room?" Lorelai smiled at the bride to be moved voice. This was usually the moment Lorelai managed to make couples book the Pyramid most prestigious hall to host their wedding.

"Just look at the ceiling. The star map is a Chelsea Rose original; we had it especially made for this room. There's no other made like this in the whole world. Its made of over 10,000 LEDs mimicking the night sky on a meteor shower night."

Lorelai flicked the lighting switch on, the lights dimmed, and the twinkles on the ceiling started moving like shooting stars. The hotel manager wrung her neck up to examine the romantically lit roof. The outcome never ceased to amaze her. Chelsea did a great job. The couple followed her lead.

"Isn't it the most romantic thing you have ever seen?" Lorelai posed her question carefully, "We usually turn it on for the slow dance. She designed an ode to her husband."

"Oh, how romantic!"

Every time Lorelai told the story, she felt phony. It was her bestseller closing argument, but it was an altered truth. No one wanted to hear of a high as a kite, broken-hearted Chelsea Rose lying on the dirty floor, staring at the ceiling, orchestrating her hands around like a conductor, and mumbling to herself while construction workers maneuvered around her.

It wasn't a love song. Chelsea created a eulogy of great love.

"You can take a moment to take it in. I'll be right over if you have any questions." Lorelai smiled at the excited bride and the lost looking husband, making her way toward the bar where Finn counted stock. His favorite task.

The Australian looked at her just as she approached. He was talking on the phone, his expression severe.

"Actually, she's standing right beside me now. Oh. Hang on." Finn holds out his phone for the dark-haired woman. "It's for you."

"Me?" Finn nodded carefully. Lorelai pressed the phone to her ear happily, never bothering to look at the caller ID; who else could it be. "Hi Kim, should I be expecting an amazing brownie delivery?"

"Lorelai," Logan Huntzberger's voice came through the earpiece without pleasantries, "How fast can you get to Seattle?"