Logan woke up with a pounding head, a runny nose, and a thunderous cough. What day was today? All his throbbing headache had allowed him to remember was he went to the meeting as soon as he arrived in Sam Fransisco, and it took longer than he'd expected.

He went out of the office almost midnight in a pouring rain waiting for his ride. And then spent the night analyzing documents to prepare for his report meeting with his dad in the morning. His dad wanted the report first thing in the morning, 8am in Hartford, which means 5AM in San Fransisco, so he didn't exactly have much time to prepare. The choice was to sleep or to prepare. He chose the latter out of dignity. After all these times, he still couldn't bring himself to do things that will make the old man questioning his ability.

And now he had to suffer. He should've presumed he was catching a cold when he kept on sneezing during the meeting with Mitchum, and on the whole day at the San Fransisco office. He even had a few cough here and there and by the lunch time he'd already couldn't taste the food as was proven by his judgement that his once most favorite food in San Fransisco had gone dull and tasteless.

But he had ignored all the signs and kept working his ass off until late in the evening. He remembered collapsing into his bed, mumbled something and lost all consciousness. He remembered waking up sometime in the middle of the night by the sound of his phone that was worsening his already painful headache.

The ringtone faded and stopped before he found the phone, but truth be told, he didn't even got up from his bed to look for it. He didn't have the strength to even lift his sad body out of the bed. He didn't then, and he didn't now. All he could muster was a quick call to the operator using the hotel phone on the nightstand beside the bed.

"I'm sick," was the only sentence came out of his mouth before he groaned as the sharp pain struck his head. He closed his eyes hoping for the pain to go away while covering his body deeper into the blankets.

The next few hours, or minutes he couldn't really tell passed as bits and pieces as he forced himself up and drank some water. But he saw that his water bottle was almost empty. He groaned at the thinking that he had to make another call to request for water.

He closed his eyes again. Dreaming of clouds and a place where this headache is no longer exists. Think about happy clouds, he thought. Is there even a happy cloud? Is this the thoughts of dying people? Cause he surely felt like he was dying.

The clouds in his mind started to form a sky, clear blue sky, the thought made him happy and at peace despite of the storm of headache going on inside his brain threatening to blow it up.

Somewhere around the blue sky he could feel the wind, caressing his cheek with warmth and a smell that similar to the Hamptons air. Now he was sure that he's dying. People goes to their happy place when they're dying and the Hamptons just came on top of the list after the holidays. Is he really dying?

He became more sure of himself dying when the smell of the ocean became stronger and started to bring Rory's smell along. Flowery and sweet. Well, at least he would die happy. He smiled.

"Why are you smiling?" Her voice came asking.

"I'm thinking of you... this is a happy death..."

"Happy death? You think you're dying?"

He furrowed. He knew Rory too well apparently that even his near death imagination depicted her almost identically with her skeptical tone. He felt a touch on his forehead, Rory's hand. He smiled again. Dying wasn't so scary anymore having his Ace here accompanying him to the death door even if she was just an imagination. She couldn't be here, in San Fransisco, 3000 miles from the Hamptons. She's afraid of flying and she won't even come close to the airport.

Oh, no. If he were to be dead, what will become of her? It would break her, that's for sure. She might not recover from it, not now. She's still healing and she's not ready for a big blow such as this. No, he couldn't be dead now. He must wait. But her touch was so comforting it's lulling him back to sleep.

But then an icy cold cloth landed on his forehead and he jerked his eyes open in protest. His gaze instantly meet a pair of worried blue eyes. "Ace?"

"Sssh, it's okay, I'm here. I'm sorry to wake you up with a cold compress..." she caressed his cheek. "I have a hot soup, eat some of it and take some medicines and you can go back to sleep, okay?"

He nodded although his clouded mind was totally confused. Was she really here? But how? He wanted to ask questions but his mind was too tired, so he gave up and let her do her tasks.

After the food, the drugs, and the numerous sip of water from his full again bottles that has straw in it now, she finally let him sleep. He never thought an imagination could be so vivid and so detailed, it conjured Rory perfectly. But he won't overthink it much, he decided as he closed his eyes and drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Opening his eyes a few hours later, he felt much more energized, although his head was still pounding, nose still a bit runny, and he felt a slight fever still inhabited his body. He reached to the nightstand for his water bottle, which was still half full with a straw in it. He didn't recall ever refilled his bottle, or put a straw in it. Rory did. But it was all an imagination, right? She wasn't here now when he awoke. So who put the straw, then?

Right when he was deciding he won't be burdening his weak brain with unimportant matter, he heard some movements from the bathroom.

"Hello? Who are you?" He called, putting every energy he had to sound strong and commanding, while pushing himself to a sitting position. Figured sitting was way better than lying down to pose strength. Although whoever the intruder was, he bet they won't feel threatened with his facade. He totally aware of his sick face.

The fussing in the bathroom stopped and the bathroom door opened. Rory came out of the bathroom wearing robe and a wet hair, looking as sexy as a siren.

"How are you feeling?" She asked with a smile.

"Better." He answered. "You're here?" A confused question came out a second after.

"Apparently I am." She wrapped the towel on her head and came to the bed to take a closer look at him.

"What, how?"

"Colin dropped me off," she answered putting her hand on his forehead. "Looks like your fever went down. This is great. I'll grab another bowl of soup, okay?" She said standing up to start her mission.

Logan held her hand and pulled her back on the bed. "Wait, how are you here? Colin took you in his jet?"

"Yes, what do you think he has an airbus?"

"No, I mean? What... how... how can you be here? How did you manage to come in a plane?"

She smiled warmly and put her warm hand on his cheek. "You almost died, you fool. I had to come,"

"What? I didn't. I caught the flu,"

"Yeah, I know that now. Guess I didn't hear right when the hotel called to inform that you hadn't been responding to their calls and at some time managed to let them know you're sick. I didn't hear the rest of it, I just hopped on the plane. All in my mind was to get here and see you," she grinned.

"You were worried about me,"

"Of course I do, silly..." she replied rolling her eyes. But then her gaze lowered and she muttered, "I just got you back, I can't loose you again..."

She was really worried. "Hey..." he squeezed her hand. "You're not getting rid of me that easy..."

"I know that now. Imagine my embarrassment when I arrived here and the manager said that you only caught the flu and they could have just ordered a doctor to come check you in," she blushed.

"Yeah, they could have... but I'm glad you're here instead of the doctor. I heard doctors around here don't smell like flowers and coffee, and they surely don't have those blue eyes I always liked,"

"You prefer your doctors to have blue eyes and smells like flower instead of being competent and experienced?"

"For flu, yes... not for other fatal and life threatening diseases," he teased.

"Oh really? You honestly telling me that this wasn't a fatal disease?"

"Of course," he bloated his chest in dignity.

"Just a few hours ago you thought you were dying and I was grim reaper," she reminded him cooly.

"Oh you certainly can pull off being a reaper, but you are definitely not grim..."

"Well, you're back being the insufferable you. So I guess you're really okay now?"

"Ace, I'm fine. Much better now that you're here... I can't believe you just hopped on the plane,"

She bit her underlip and went to grab his soup but stopped abruptly and went back to hug him. He could feel her sniffling. "Hey hey, it's okay. I'm okay..." he brushed her hair with his hand while his other hand held her tight.

"I was so worried, Logan. I didn't even had a second thought. I just needed to see you,"

"Ace, I'm okay..."

"Yes, thank God..." she agreed and looked up to meet his eyes. "And God, I did got on a plane, did I? I went straight to the airport and got on a plane..." she said, clearly still couldn't believe herself.

Logan smiled. This was a huge milestone in her progress, overcoming one of her biggest fear. Logan felt really happy for her and hopeful that she was getting to be fully healed. Oh, the pain, the trauma, and the memories will always be there of course. But what matters is that they don't hurt anymore, they don't interfere with her future anymore, or barricade her from things that can make her happy.

He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it gently, silently praying that she'd be healed properly. She was his whole life, and seeing her hurt and afraid broke his very heart.

She brushed her thumb over his lips. "You cured me." She added with a bright smile.

"I did?" Logan smirked. It was a psychological barrier but he was still proud that he was the one triggering the wall to come down.

"You did. I love you, Logan Huntzberger..."

"I love you too, Rory Gilmore..."