AN: Okay it's here. Finally. I know some of you have been waiting.
I'd like to thank you for the lovely greetings and well wishes following my last AN. It was heartwarming and I didn't expect it :) I had planned this part to go elsewhere, but after all this time, it felt right that we and them should reconnect. The next one is already in the works, but (sadly) can't commit to when that will be dropped.

October 2014

Seattle

Rory paced the wooden floors wearing a pair of Logan's Candy Cane print socks, a thermometer in her hand. The watch with the golden band on her left wrist indicated only seven minutes passed.

It felt like forever. Logan was late.

She shook the jewelry a little; maybe it was faulty. But it wasn't. It couldn't be. It would be negligence considering the ridiculous amount of money Logan spent on it. Apart from her camera, it was probably the most expensive item she owned. Shiri had let out a low wolf whistle at the sight of it.

At first, Rory refused to accept this birthday present. The watch's lavishness made her uncomfortable. It took her days to figure out the symbolism, but once she did, Rory couldn't imagine her wrist bare of the sparking band resting next to the simple string bracelet in harmony. Strings and time. Patience and commitment.

Logan could be so damn romantic when he wanted to be.

The watch was fine. Finer than fine.

Time was ticking away. Rory pushed the thermometer in her mouth to recheck her temperature. The familiar rattle of the key in the lock made her heart flip-flopped in her chest with deep anticipation. The butterflies fluttered in her stomach like they always do when Logan walks in the door.

Only faster.

"I was looking for these socks. Are we recreating Risky Business?" Logan questioned, taking in her choice of clothes while he calmly deposited his keys and laptop on the stand by the door.

Rory looked down at herself. Sans for his socks, she wore nothing but a white dress shirt he left discarded on the bedroom chair a few days ago. Waking up late, it was the first item of clothing her hand grabbed as she tried to pull on a pair of skinny jeans quickly. The remains of his familiar scent lingered on the fabric, assaulting her nostrils all day. Logan always used a ridiculous amount of fabric softener in his laundry.

Chip had looked at her funny when he caught her repeatedly sniffing the collar every time she adjusted her camera strap. By four o'clock, when she found herself unconsciously rubbing her lower stomach, she realized what day it was.

And Logan was coming home.

Rory spat the thermometer out of her mouth as it beeped. The temperature was just right. "I'm ovulating; get moving."

Xx

A buzzing thrill cut through her, her mouth turned dry, as Rory collapsed against him. A warm sensation spread through her body as their sweaty bodies pulsed together.

"You are, by far, the best sex I ever had." She breathed hoarsely into his skin. He smelt like travel, Logan, and sex.

"I want that in writing." Logan laughed, nuzzling his face on the flushed skin of her neck. His hands were aimlessly caressing the carves of her back. "I wasn't expecting this kind of welcome home."

"I didn't hear any complaints."

Pillow talk is Rory's favorite part of sex. She is addicted to Logan's oddly intoxicating soft touch when satisfaction coursing through his body, and he's a moment away from breaking into the familiar humming. Knowing she's the only one who gets to know him like this makes her melt into him in a completely different way.

"No complaints." His mouth found hers drawing out a proper long kiss. "Hi."

"Hi." Rory grinned back at him.

A faint shrill of a familiar ringtone comes from the next room. They both recognize it instantly. It's her mother.

"Don't answer it."

"I'm too spent to move," Rory replied. Her fingers found their way into his hair as she remained slumped against him. Whatever unimportant tidbit Lorelai wanted to mull over could wait. Her life goal is to prolong this moment with her man forever.

Or for the next fifteen minutes at least.

It's been four months. Four months since Lorelai boarded the plane back to Connecticut with the two Gilmore Girls agreeing to turn a new page. Sixteen weeks since Rory handed in her effective immediate resignation upon their return from Vancouver Island.

Rory still carried the faint memory of her lungs fill with fresh air, hope, and the prospect of the unknown when she picked up the phone and asked Chip for a permeant job at his film production company.

Leaving Current was a long time over-due.

It did her and Logan so much good. It felt like a brand new Seattle.

The liberty of openly planting a sound kiss on his lips when meeting him for drinks after the workday didn't lose the appeal. The butterflies in her stomach still batted violently every time he calls in the middle of the day 'just to check in.' Or the rush of the blood she gets when Logan openly beams at her across the dinner table at Ben's.

Rory relished in her ability to introduce him to strangers and colleagues as her boyfriend. The stupid joy pronouncing the word in public brought her was ridiculous considering her age. It nearly matched the enlightenment she feels when he naturally called her 'Ace' in front of people they both know. No more discreet smiles over people's heads.

"Good," Logan's fingers combed through her hair; his soft humming vibrated from his chest.

Rory sighed with content. She was so in love with him. Even after the months went by.

"How was New York?" Rory traced the outline of his shoulder. She had missed his presence while he was gone this time. It was strange to realize she had become used to find the toothpaste cap not adequately screwed. How she anticipates the note attached to the coffee machine every morning.

"He got the all-clear from the doctors. The scans are clean." Logan answered softly.

"That's great news. No more flying out then?"

Logan's trips to New York frequented the past month due to Aaron Rosen's new treatments. Rory sat through those trips with anxiety bubbling through her veins, knowing he was spending considerable time with Chelsea. She couldn't shake her insecurities. But at Ben's advice, Rory downplayed them.

"No. No more flying."

"Good. I missed you." She pressed a soft kiss on his skin.

"Rory," She looked up at emotion in his voice, "He said he lived to meet my kid."

Rory's mouth went dry. A baby. The absence of one, more precisely, was the only thing overshadowing the teenage dream summer of her life. They don't speak of it.

"He will." Rory palmed his face in her hand, forcing his brown eyes to look at her. She didn't quite know where she mastered that certainty and determination from.

One hundred and twenty days passed since Dr. Pence advised them to sit out the next two fertility cycles. The space between her ears was overtaken by white noise. Every verb the doctor used started with the 're' prefix.

"Rest, recover, regroup, reconsider, recharge, and review our options before we renew our efforts."

The silent disappointed expression Logan's face wore, the one she can't bear, remained engraved in her mind. They never stepped a foot in the clinic after that day. Rory flat out refused. She spent the whole drive to Vancouver Island, stating her case of why they didn't need medical help. They were two young, healthy people, who had a brilliant sex life. It would happen naturally in no time.

Logan has withdrawn into himself.

And that was it. Ish.

Roughly one hundred and twenty days proved Rory wrong. Checking fever, peeing on paper stripes, counting days, swallowing a variation of prenatal pills, and having lots and lots of unprotected sex - in every favorable position she could think of - didn't cut it. The days passed, the baby was gone, and Logan – despite Rory's initial meltdown after the incident - was still around.

He was the string to her kite.

"We're gonna be late to Ben's," Logan pecked her lips lightly, throwing a glance at the digits on her twinkling watch.

"Let's skip Ben's." Rory's lips grazed his; she moved her thighs in her best suggestive manner. Her nails scratched the back of his head- it always did the trick. "Let's open a bottle of wine, order in, shut our phones, and…"

Their kiss intensified. Rory let out a small whimper of appreciation as Logan responded, rolling himself on top. His nose nuzzled the sensitive spot underneath her earlobe, his teeth leaving a small bite. His hand gripped her hips.

"Nice try." Logan pulled away as quickly as his attack started, leaving her exposed on the bed.

Rory pouted. Dinner at Ben's was the one thing Logan hold sacred. Lately, even more than usual. "Sometimes, I think you like him better than you like me."

Logan chuckled, shooting an amused side-glance her way. He had already zipped up his pants.

"What?"

"Chelsea used to say that too."

~w~


"You are not my mom! I don't have to listen to anything you say!"

The door to the bedroom on the ground floor slammed forcefully behind the emotional eleven years old GiGi. Lorelai stood staring at the empty hall with profound astonishment, her car keys hanging from her hands.

Gigi's costume to Samantha Copper's Halloween party was a little too revealing for eleven years old. When Lorelai gently insinuated her thoughts, the conversation had quickly escalated into an argument.

"Just wait until your father gets home!" Lorelai slapped her hands over her mouth and cringed.

"I wish dad would just leave you!" Gigi's furious comeback paired with an additional slam of the door again.

When Rory occupied that room, the door rarely slammed until she was seventeen. Puberty arrived earlier these days.

Lorelai dropped her handbag in the doorway, deposited her car keys beside the blinking answering machine, and approached the door.

"Hey, G," The blue-eyed woman knocked on the door using her peppiest voice, "I was thinking, maybe we can think of a way to tweak the costume a little…Rory and I.."

"I'm not Rory! You are not my mom! And I don't want you to be! Go away!"

Lorelai blinked at the door, forcing the tears away as she reminded herself that Gigi was just upset. Upset, eleven years old girls are mean.

Fortysomething women raised above pre-teens insults. Right?

Rory was so different than Gigi. Less materialistic, less bothered with the ins and outs of popularity. Rory, compared to Gigi, was never part of a girls' group of friends. She had Lane. In Chilton and Yale she has mostly stuck by Paris Geller.

Tracking and weathering Rory's social life was easy.

If anything, Lorelai had gone out of her way to push her bookworm of a daughter into social experimenting. Hell, Lorelai had been the one to trim her prudish school uniform skirt in the 'cool' length. And as far as Rory and her friends were concerned, Lorelai was the cool, young mom. Rory was never ashamed of her or uncomfortable around her like Gigi seemed to be. They were best friends first, mother and daughter second. Even through tough times. Like with the whole Dean thing. They shared clothes, developed their unique banter, talked hours on the phone gossiping about celebrities and boys.

She liked that about her and Rory.

What the hell has happened to that? Lorelai wiped the lone tear that fell from her eyelash.

According to the blonde man in her daughter's kitchen – it wasn't what Rory wanted anymore.

It wasn't what Gigi wanted either.

And it hurt.

Xx

"Hi, mom!" Rory's cheery voice rang through the line later that evening.

"Ah, Rory, the child who loves me!" Lorelai lowered the sound of the television and grabbed the nearest magazine on the coffee table, "Where are you? It sounds energetic."

Rory chuckled on the other side of the phone at her mother's dramatic response. " Hang on; I'll find a quieter spot. I'm at the gym."

"At the gym?" Lorelai sputtered in disbelieve; Lorelai flipped the pages distractedly, "But.. Gilmores don't exercise. It's in the rule book."

"Nicole forced me to go with her to this Yoga class, and… " Rory's life had changed for sure. "It does not count as exercise; it's more getting in touch with your body."

"Does it includes wearing tights and sweat? Because that's the definition of sports."

"But they are cute tights," Rory responded smartly, "What's up? You sounded off."

"Oh, nothing exciting. Gigi has willingly exiled herself into her room. I'm just doing nothing, reading a magazine, waiting for her to come out. She's bound to starve at one point." Lorelai downplayed her feelings, flipped the page with more intent.

"Where's dad?"

"He's at the cave."

"The cave?"

"The office. The cave, because he caved into the family business." Lorelai elaborated only to face silent confusion, "I guess you had to be there… I told him it was a bad joke. Grandma asked about Thanks Giving."

Lorelai looked at the silent TV helplessly. Did she just resort to the topic of Dinner to avoid the expected awkward lull in conversation?

"Oh." Rory paused her answer, "I don't know yet. I have to check with Logan. What are you reading?"

Lorelai swallowed back the heartburn his name brought up. Rory never had to check with anyone about anything before. It was the way Lorelai preferred to lead her life too. Logan, it seemed, was immersing his hooks into Rory's life. And Rory, despite their new mother-daughter agreement, remained tight-lipped when it came to the man in her life.

And that just rubbed Lorelai the wrong way.

"Ummm... Marie Claire, I think it's the new edition." She checked the cover.

"Oh, cool. Ahem…"Rory made an effort to keep the conversation going. "I didn't know you picked it up."

"I have a subscription. I always appreciate a good lipstick comparison. Plus, I follow one specific contributor."

"Ah," Rory's voice suddenly sounded a little muffled. As if she was biting her lip. "Any plans for Halloween?"

"Well... Gigi has her costume all thought-out." Lorelai said slowly, considering whether to bring Rory up to speed with the latest drama, but for some reason decided against it. "I have no idea for a costume yet. The town is still undecided on the festivities. The last town meeting went downhill after Ms. Patti called Taylor a tyrant."

"Oh, I would have paid good money to see that!"

"There was blood."

"Do you have it on tape?!"

"I'll put in a request for a video conference on your behalf at the next town meeting. Or you could just bet there yourself next time, say around Thanksgiving; we can have pie at Luke's afterward. It'll be super-duper fun."

"Sounds great. Mom, I have to go, the class is about to start, and I need to grab a mattress."

"Okay, have fun!"

"Thanks. Tell Gigi I said hi." Rory clicked off the call far too quickly to Lorelai's liking. When Rory was in Yale, they used to go into the specifics of what they would wear to whatever Halloween party they'll go attend.

Lorelai threw the phone down beside her and finally focused on the magazine in her lap. Her eyes fell on a glossy chromo perfume ad. She flipped to the next page, her mouth turning dry at the sight of the comic spread; nausea kicked in.

Lorelai quickly closed the magazine, trying to block the images from her eyes. Rory has outgrown her prudish phase. Lorelai added up why Rory sounded so nervous when she mentioned the magazine. What was her daughter thinking to submit a play by play illustration of…. That.

For the first time in her life, Lorelai Gilmore understood what it was to be Emily Gilmore.

~W~


"A lot of people seem to be into this thing, and I can understand why; the outfits are cute. You don't really sweat. The instructor is nice. She talks in this soft voice that makes you want to take a nap." Rory closed the refrigerator door after digging the tub of ice cream out of the freezer.

Her eyes briefly appreciated the lone picture hanged on a magnet on the metallic door: their Greenwich kiss. Rory has put it there during one of latest his New York trips, half expecting he'd take it down. Logan didn't have pictures laying around. It was a great photo; she had the same one in her apartment, stuck on the mirror by the entrance door.

"You liked it?" Logan's tone held the same disbelieve her mother had when they spoke earlier on the phone.

Rory couldn't quite comprehend how two people who grew up in the same environment, who shared similar life goals and beliefs, who acted so alike - could rub each other the wrong way and not get along like a house on fire.

"Why does everyone think that it's odd..."

Logan brought one of the red wine glasses he just poured to his lips; he twisted his lips in dissatisfaction and twirled the red liquid in a circular motion. He always did that when the wine didn't breathe enough.

"Because it's a sport."

"It's a lifestyle thing." The blue-eyed woman protested meekly but stopped her defensive response at his pointed expression. It was unlikely for Rory Gilmore to voluntarily participate in a physical activity that fell under the definition of sport. She much preferred to watch and take photos of someone else doing it.

Someone like Logan, for example. Logan looked hot when working out. And was incredibly bothered by the camera presence, which was highly entertaining alone. But eventually, even that bored her immensely.

"Okay, I'll admit I was skeptical when Nicole first forced me to come, but I think I might…" Rory cradled the ice cream closer to her chest, pulling out a spoon from the drawer. She felt muscles in her legs that she didn't know existed - she earned this sweet treat after today's activities.

"Go back?" Logan filled in, amused. The familiar smirk took over his face as he carried the two glasses of wine over to the couch, "Wow, we have a real Yoga fan."

"Shut up." Rory nudged his ribs with the spoon as he settled into the couch beside her. It was Monday, and Logan was in a mood tonight because he was the one choosing tonight's movie. "What are we watching?"

"Vanilla Sky."

"Not another Tom Cruise movie," Rory pouted crestfallen. Her feet didn't waste time ending up in his lap. "What is with you and…?"

"It's a Cameron Crowe movie." Logan corrected, "Your feet are cold."

"He's one of the most over-rated directors of all time. You ran out of socks."

Rory rolled her eyes. Cameron Crowe makes movies about lost male protagonists and warps them with rich soundtracks and a lot of quote-worthy dialogue. Logan liked to memorize them; it was like a challenge.

"If you'd stop wearing them, I wouldn't run out of them. Pippy." Logan accused. "Cameron Crowe makes legendry films."

Yes. Jerry Maguire. Rory shook her head.

Logan's cinematic taste was revealing itself to be questionable. Watching Pippy Longstocking with Logan, for example, was torture. She ceremonially ignored his opinion that the film was an obvious child neglect case. She was relieved when he called it quits on the movie and turned on his laptop.

He vocally suffered through Charlie and the chocolate factory, too. "It's a pedophile's movie; he's screening kids."

"I thought you liked me wearing your clothes. You said it was sexy."

"You wearing my sock is just silly and doubles my laundry." Rory wearing his socks has become a habit; they looked utterly silly, reaching up to her shins.

"You love doing laundry!" Rory retorted back.

"Hmm.." Logan momentarily glanced away from the movie; the corner of his lips twitched. Rory blushed furiously at their shared memory. It was late. They were the only ones in the laundry room, and there was something oddly sexy about how serious Logan was about separating his whites and colors.

"That was only one time!"

"I'm up for a repeat if you are. You can keep the socks on." A sly, suggestive twinkle lit up in his eyes. Logan never missed an opportunity to cash in on her sudden bravery.

"I think I got the gist of it," Rory said less enthusiastically. She was done with appliance sex; her ribs hurt for three days after that little tryst.

"Come find me if you change your mind." Logan squeezed her foot affectionally and turned his attention to the movie. The characters on the screen continued to cite their dialogue.

"I won't." Rory stated, without a doubt, "Did you know they were an actual couple filming this?"

"I do want to watch this; this is the best part." It's the moment Tom Cruise's character has to choose between faiths.

Rory looked at the screen, uninterested, "This isn't the first time you watched this movie. You already know how it ends."

"Doesn't matter." Logan reached for the glass of wine again.

Rory dug the spoon on the hard ice-cream, trying to carve some out.

"… Susan says working on your inner chakras improves your confidence by helping you better connect with your body…" Rory continued talking beside him.

"Who's Susan again?" Logan asked distractedly. The name sounded familiar.

"Susan is the Yoga coach."

"Ah." He didn't really care.

Lately, he has been hearing about the woman a lot- because Nicole was singing her praises during lunch. And now Rory. The more Logan heard of Susan, the more he was convinced the Yoga instructor was a flaky charlatan.

"She's a sensual Yoga coach too. This one woman in class said she helped her get pregnant twice by coaching her through sex communication. I checked her website; her classes helped a lot of women with their fertility problems."

That had caught his attention—a charlatan who was taking advantage of Rory's insecurities.

"You don't have a fertility problem, Rory." Logan's eyes tore away from the screen. He didn't expect this curveball.

"Eh… last I checked, your sperm count is perfect, so…" Rory dug her spoon into her ice cream bucket again, casting him a sidewise glance. "I booked a try-out private session."

"A what?" Logan looked slightly hunted. Rory couldn't quite pinpoint why.

"We can do a couple-session… if you're interested?" She continued talking, anything to cover the tense air that took over, "She comes highly recommended."

"I'm not." He answers too quick, too certain, and nearly disgusted. "I could make calls, you know, there are other doctors..."

"No doctors." Rory's face seemed to fall as quickly as his answer. "No needles, no pills."

"Rory," Logan's hand let go of her foot. At once, Rory could feel the invisible wall building between them as he tensely retreated into himself. "If you think meditation, practicing positive thinking and breathing, or giving your uterus pep talks helps, then I don't mind this sexual witchcraft. But don't make me watch a Yoga coach fondle you."

"It's not sexual witchcraft. It's sensual Yoga. It could help; it wouldn't hurt to try." Rory tried to reason. She desperately wanted it to work. "I'll watch whatever Tom Cruise movie you want for a month!"

Sometimes negations worked with Logan.

"No." His eyes remained glowed to the screen, but Rory could swear whatever was playing on his brain was not the plot.

"But-"

"No."

~w~


January 2015

Seattle

"What do you mean he doesn't want to renew the contract?" Ben pulled on his hair, pacing fanatically. "Our whole business plan for the next year was based counted on James Parker renewing the contract! You said it was in the bag."

Logan leaned against the glass wall in Ben's office, flanging his golf club back and forth, waiting for his friend to unload his panic. "True."

"Stop that." Ben's eyes tracked the metallic pole anxiously. "We can't afford to replace any more walls in here because Parker is pulling the breaks on the checks."

Logan stilled the golf club to his side, "We're not in the shambles Ben, we have other clients."

"What other clients?! That's pennies, Logan; we're talking about our biggest client taking his big fat checks elsewhere! We have rent. We have two new interns to train; we're in the middle of a big market share survey… I know your head has been elsewhere for the last few months. I get that…."

"He not taking his big fat checks elsewhere." Logan huffed, cutting his friend's rant off. "He wants to buy us out."

"He… he what?" Ben stuttered. His face went from flustered red to pale, to nearly blue in the space of seconds.

"He wants to buy us," Logan repeated.

"I need to sit." The tall man's limbs collapsed onto the green couch Logan spent so many noons crashing on. His eyes wide with bewilderment, his right hand rested on his heart, his breathing shallow. "I think I might be experiencing a heart attack."

"You do not have a heart attack." Logan rolled his eyes. The golf club returned to motion. The blonde's brown eyes straightened their gaze to Ben's.

"How would you know?" Ben's eyes blazed back at him.

"You pick up a few things when you date a doctor. And you speak way too much for someone in the midst of a heart attack." Logan shrugged.

Ben Attwood took off his glasses, rubbing his temples. "Why are you so calm about it?"

"I had a few days to mull it over."

"You want to sell," Ben's words fell loaded between them. "How much?"

"I've considered it," Logan admitted; he pushed himself off the wall and stepped closer to the couch, towering over his business partner. "Here, It helps to have something to do with your hands."

The blonde man offered the golf club to his friend sympathetically.

"Cut the crap, Logan. How much?"

"It doesn't matter." Logan dismissed his friend, "I told him we're not selling."

"What?!"

"We're not selling," Logan repeated, the smirk spreading over his face.

"Give me that golf club!" Ben yanked the stick out of Logan's hands and swung it at his friend's leg with his best force.

Logan grant in pain, "Watch the ankle!"

"Was this heart attack really necessary?!"

"You should have seen your face." Logan laughed, throwing himself on the couch next to Ben. "He wants to bring in two million more worth of business."

"Next time, I'll aim better. You'll never have children." Ben grunted, still miffed. Logan's laughter subsided at once. Ben quickly recovered, "Oh shit. I didn't mean…"

Logan nodded his confirmation. "It's fine. I can take a joke."

"Two million more, you say? That's… that's a lot of money." Ben mused, "Before I met you, I never imagined I'd be hearing myself talking about big money… Do you know what people could do with two million?"

"I can think of a few things."

"Logan," Ben started tentatively. His hand clenched and unclenched on the golf club nervously.

"Yeah?"

"It was more than ten, wasn't it? Maybe we should sell."

"If we sell, Parker is the last person I'd sell to." Logan was now playing with the golden band that resides in his wallet. The speed at which he retrieved it is not lost on Ben. "It's too big a conflict of interests once I'm back with the family fold if he's the main shareholder in Current. And besides, what on earth will you do?"

"Is that already in play?"

"Nothing yet. Mitchum promised."

"Well, if Mitchum promised." Logan's lips twisted at Ben's roll of eyes. It was odd to question every aspect of his life but not question his father's word. Ben patted his friend's thigh. "I feel like we should celebrate or something? Let's go grab a drink."

"I can't. I need to give a sperm sample tomorrow." Logan replied, rubbing his hands on his pants. Alcohol consumption was not recommended, although he direly needed a drink. The restrictions were not something he particularly missed.

"So the Yoga thing didn't work out, huh?" Ben offered a sympathetic half-smile.

Logan let out a bitter sigh. For a nano-split of a second in November, he was ready to eat his hat and let go of the objection he harbored towards Rory's alternative approach. The success was short-lived. For two weeks, Logan and Rory rode the fumes of a careful joy of a positive pregnancy test.

Then the routine disappointment followed.

"Didn't think it would. Nothing good ever comes out of it." Logan's eyes kept tracing the motion of the wedding ring between his fingers. Logan was extremely distressed by Rory's private whatever-Yoga sessions, yet too stubborn to be straightforward with his reservations.

"You should have told her." Ben pursed his lips and resisting the urge to say more. He couldn't save Logan from himself if he didn't want to be saved. There were things Logan didn't talk about. Both he and Pricilla had already spent too many words on Logan's flawed communication skills and Rory's deliberated obliviousness.

"Rory is going to be at Sundance later this month. For work. Parker will be in town; I can go down, sign the contract. Make a trip out of it."

For anyone else, it would seem as if Logan was changing the subject. Anyone who isn't Ben. The tall man's mouth repeatedly opened and closed in a fish-like impression before he mastered his bearings. Logan glanced at his friend, hesitatingly.

"To California?" Ben asked for clarification. "With Rory."

Logan never volunteered to go to California. He steered away from it at all costs. He went out of his way to avoid talking about California or anything related to California.

"It's time. I think."