Warning: Mentions of physical trauma and injury in this chapter.
Logan Huntzberger was used to getting calls at two in the morning during his time at Yale, his friends pestering him about something or needing help out of a sticky situation they'd landed their intoxicated asses in. But it had been three years since he graduated, so he was surprised to say the least as he rolled over in the bed of his California apartment, groping for the buzzing implement. Phone to his ear, Logan leant over the bed, flicking on the light.
"Colin, you are aware that at least half the world is usually asleep at this time of night? And, if Finn needs bailing out of jail, again, then I am not your guy," Logan grumbled, chucking a pillow behind his head.
"What?" Colin said distractedly. "Listen, Finn isn't in jail but he is the reason I called. Look, I need you to listen Logan. I need you to stay calm, and let me finish what I have to say. It's about Rory."
At the mere sound of her name, he felt his chest, a bolt of agony to his heart. He knew they were all still friends, knew they got together when they could, but it was an unspoken agreement between the guys not to bring it up with him. Logan had tried to move in with his life, and Finn and Colin had tried to respect that as much as possible. So something had to be very, very wrong.
"He just called me," Colin continued, "because Doyle called him because Lane called Paris because..."
Logan didn't want him to finish the sentence, but he knew he had to hear it. "Because what, Colin? Why are you calling me at two o'clock in the morning, sounding like you're trying not to cry?"
"Because Rory's in the hospital, Logan. She was in an accident, and the doctors don't know if she's going to make it, and we thought you should know."
The whole world stopped. Dark spots bloomed at the edges of his vision, and Logan couldn't even tell if he was breathing or not.
"Where is she?" Logan demanded, racing to his laptop, throwing stuff in his suitcase as he waited for it to boot up.
"Logan," Colin warned.
"No, don't you 'Logan' me. This is Rory, Colin. Rory. The only girl I've ever loved, the girl I was going to marry. So, for the love of God, please, just tell me where she is," he snapped, slumping down on the edge of the bed.
"Hartford General. She's in the ICU. I'm on my way, Finn's already there."
"I'll see you in a couple hours," Logan promised, bringing up a page for the next flight out.
"Good. Be careful," murmured Colin before he hung up.
For a moment, Logan just sat there, laptop on his knees, head a discordant jangle of thoughts. He couldn't believe it, couldn't believe that Rory was in the hospital, who'd never so much as broken a bone, who didn't even like a moment, Logan just sat there, laptop on his knees, head a discordant jangle of thoughts. He couldn't believe it, couldn't believe that Rory was in the hospital, who'd never so much as broken a bone, who didn't even like hospitals. Colin had said she'd been in a car accident, which didn't make any sense: she was a perfectly good driver, didn't even get so much as a parking ticket. How had she gotten in an accident?
She must have been so scared.
Logan finished packing, making it to the airport in record time. He'd been in no fit state to drive, and his driver hadn't even batted an eye when he called him at half two in the morning needing to get on a plane. He'd be sure to give him a bonus. As he sat by the windows, bags on the chair beside him, he tried to recall the last he'd heard of her. It must have been around three months ago: he'd taken a trip to Finn's, needing a break for a while. When he'd gotten there, the Aussie had been on the phone, deep in conversation with someone. He hadn't realized it was her on the other end until Finn said, "Rory, love, you can't be fretting over what flavoured gum you gave to Obama. I'm sure the man wasn't offended by your limited flavours...so long as it wasn't that awful coffee-flavoured one you had last time. I swear, you should be institutionalized for that addiction of yours." After that, he'd looked up, likely sensing Logan's presence in the room. Something like sadness had filled his friend's eyes and he gave an apologetic shake of the head as he said to Rory, "I'll let you go, Miss Lane. Now, go write that spiffing article of yours, and for the love of koalas, leave out the gum."
"So," Finn had said, getting up from the couch and pouring himself a glass of scotch. "Drink?"
"Sure."
And that had been that.
Logan hadn't heard her voice in two and a half years.
The speakers overhead bleeped, alerting him to the fact that he should be getting up, should be boarding that plane. But all he could think about was the fact that the last thing he'd heard about her was her giving out gum to the future president of the country: that could have been it. She could have...and he wouldn't have even known until after the fact.
How did he let it get to this? How had he not tried to fix things between them? Yes, she could have reached out to him, but he was the gambler, the risk-taker between the two of them, and he should have done something, anything, to make sure that even a small piece of their relationship survived, even if it was only as friends.
He wouldn't let it happen again.
Picking up his bags, Logan promised himself that no matter what happened, he wouldn't let her go so easily again.
The plane ride was an a whole undiscovered region of torture, the hours seeming to trickle by at the slowest confines time would allow. Eventually, Logan found himself once again in Hartford, his head barely able to keep up with this unfathomable reality he'd been thrust into as his driver cut through the silent roads. On the plane ride, he'd booked a room at a hotel nearby, but he didn't plan on leaving until he'd seen Rory, or at least knew that she was going to be alright. But she had to be. She had to be. The car soon pulled up at entrance to Hartford General, the building's blaring lights unforgiving on his tired eyes.
What would he tell her when he saw her? Would he tell her that he'd missed her, that a day hadn't gone by where he hadn't thought of her, hadn't regretted pushing her for something she hadn't been ready to give yet, making her choose between her career and her life with him? Would he tell her that he still loved her, no matter the time or the distance apart?
Logan traversed the maze of corridors, the quiet of the hallways eerie and unsettling, rubbing at his already frayed nerves. He came to a sudden stop, the ICU doors looming in front of him.
If the roles were reversed, Rory wouldn't have hesitated, not for a heartbeat. In fact, she hadn't hesitated when he'd ended up in hospital after acting like the world's biggest idiot, and even though they hadn't been in a great place, Rory had dropped everything in a heartbeat just to make sure that he was okay. He owed her the same.
Logan opened the door, eyes catching on a familiar face.
"Huntzberger."
He stopped. "Geller."
"I'd say it's good to see your smug face again, but I'd be lying," Paris said with a wicked smile.
"And I'd say it's nice to hear your brand of particular charm, but I'm not in the mood to satiate your ego."
Suddenly, Paris's face fell, all pretenses of calm eradicated.
"If anything happens to her, I'll kill you, Huntzberger, do you hear me? I'll kill you!" Paris yelled, tears streaming.
"Why are you acting as if this is my fault? I'm not the reason she was in an accident!" Logan thundered, patience wearing thin.
"Hey, getting yourself upset isn't going to help you, or her," Doyle soothed, putting his arms around his girlfriend. Paris buried her head in his chest, putting her arms around him, the ring on her finger catching the light. Engaged. Good for them. No one could handle Paris quite like Doyle could.
"If anything happens to her, and Paris does kill you, I'm helping her hide the body," Doyle promised. He'd never seen him so serious.
"I'll let you use my shovel," Logan replied, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze snagged on Lane, asleep in a chair, blanket thrown haphazardly over her, phone clutched in her hand. Not wanting her to get cold, Logan scooped it up off the floor, tucking it in more securely.
"Anyone else want to take a swing at me?" Logan asked over his shoulder, trying to press down the growl rumbling at the base of his throat.
"No, but if we change our minds, we'll be sure to let you know," said Colin, coming around the corner with a carrier of coffee. He offered one to Logan, who took it with a grateful nod. Logan slumped down in the chair opposite Finn, the warmth of the cup easing the numbness of his fingers. Logan scanned the assembled group, as if realizing for the first time that it was too small.
"Where's Lorelai? Her grandparents? What about Luke? They should be here."
"Lorelai went to get some coffee but hasn't come back yet. Lucas went back to Stars Hollow to get supplies and Richard and Emily went to talk to the doctor about an hour ago and haven't been seen since," Finn explained, stretching his long legs in front of him.
"How do you know all this?"
"Finn is Lorelai's favourite," Colin filled in. "It may have something to do with Rory's birthday party and the most brilliant poem he created for the birthday girl, only for him to say, 'Oh, I thought we were talking about the other Lorelai. Carry on," and he then proceeded to collapse into Miss Patty's punch bowl. We didn't stop laughing for days."
"I should bloody hope not. That was my best tie people were laddling into their cups," grumbled Finn, face the image of childhood petulance. "The whole team's been notified. Robert is in the jungle," Finn told him, taking a sip of Colin's coffee and making a face, "communing with monkeys and eating grapefruits or whatever jungle adventure-seekers do for fun. I suspect he did it just so he could wear the pith helmet, but who am I to judge ones clothing choices? And Steph was in Milan but she took the first flight out and promised she'd be here by tomorrow."
But Logan was only half listening. In his mind, he was thinking about another birthday he'd spent with Rory, about a pinãta hanging from the ceiling and a moose pinned to the wall, about eating cake at midnight and falling asleep with his arms around the woman he loved, thinking about how even though he'd got that earth-shattering call about the fate of the company, it had still been the best birthday he had ever had, simply because he'd spent it with her.
The elevator chimed, emitting Emily and Richard Gilmore.
"Honestly, you'd think given how much money the D.A.R raise every year for this hospital they could get afford to employ someone who knows where the linen closet is before we freeze to death out here," Emily thundered, handing out the blankets. She eventually reached his chair, face etched with deep surprise and an understandable amount of contempt.
"Logan," Emily said icily.
"Richard, Emily, it's good to see you both. I only wish it was under better circumstances."
"I wish that were so as well, Logan," Richard said, face graced with a sad smile.
"I'll go get some more blankets," Emily murmured, shoes biting into the floor as she headed back in the direction of the elevator.
"Have you seen her yet?" Richard asked, settling into one of the last available chairs.
"No, sir, I haven't."
"It's best if you do it now," the elder Gilmore advised kindly. "The doctors said they might be running some tests soon, but they're unsure how long it will take. Now may be your only chance for a while."
"Thank you, sir, I will," Logan said, getting up and making his way to Rory's room, feeling the eyes of everyone else boring into his back.
Every door he saw today seemed to scare the crap out of him, but this one most of all. But, like all the rest, it swung out smoothly under his touch, the bleeping of machinery instantly reaching out to greet him.
He looked over at the bed, at the figure lying there. And stopped.
The sight before him was wrong, all wrong. That couldn't be Rory, laying there in that bed, a million wires and tubes poking her, half her face covered in a sickening motley of bruises. That couldn't be his Rory, looking so small. She'd never looked small, not to him. He'd seen her get into debates with people twice her age and come out on top, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. He'd seen her give passionate speeches on literature and history and art to rival the greats. And he'd once seen her read a book, edit an article, give Paris relationship advice, and brush her teeth at the same time, all with that brilliant smile of hers. But he'd never seen Rory like this. Was this what she'd felt like, coming into his hospital room all those years ago? This useless feeling, this helplessness, unable to do anything but watch over her and wait for whatever was to happen?
He didn't know if he was strong enough for it. Despite what Rory had always believed about him, that he was brave and fearless and independent, looking at her now he was just a man, terrified about losing the girl he loved more than life itself.
Logan gripped the doorjamb, leaning heavily, wood digging into his palm, the sharpness of it keeping him focused, keeping him together.
"Oh, Rory. How did this happen?" he whispered to the empty room, desperately trying to keep his tears in check; they'd do Rory no good.
"She told me you were beautiful." Logan spun around, meeting Lorelai's gaze, eyes puffy and red but clear, controlled, a coffee cup absently dangling by her knee. "After you two had started your stupid dating-but-not-dating thing. She said you were beautiful, and smart, smarter than her, she swore. Of course, I didn't believe her at the time, and certainly not after the stunt you pulled two years ago."
"No one's as smart as her," Logan replied, since it was the only thing he could think to say. He didn't fight her on her accusation: it wasn't anything he hadn't already figured out in their time apart.
"I'm assuming you found out through the friend chain, and that's why you're here," Lorelai said, puting her coffee cup down on the plastic table by Rory's bed, smoothing her daughter's hair as she did so.
"Colin called a few hours ago. I got on the first flight out."
Lorelai nodded, brushing strands of hair away from her tired face. "Good for you. Did you know that she had just got home from her campaign tour? She got back two days ago: I hadn't seen her since Christmas."
Logan shook his head. These past two and a half years, he'd followed her writing career, but he hadn't wanted to know too much, hadn't wanted to dredge all that back up.
"My sweet girl, who I hadn't seen properly since she graduated, and do you want to know what she did?" Rory's mother pulled out a piece of paper from her purse, chucking it at him. Logan caught it, turning it over, laminated paper catching the harsh florescent light. It was a plane ticket, for Palo Alto, dated today.
He felt like he couldn't breathe, like there was a vice gripping his chest, his throat, his heart.
"She got in her car and drove to the airport. She was almost there when a drunk driver rammed into her, flipping her over."
Logan couldn't form the words. This was all his fault, wasn't it? All his fault for his cowardice, in distancing himself from her, unable to deal with the pain. But a thought still plagued his mind. "Why was she coming to see me?" he asked Lorelai, unsure if he wanted to hear her answer.
She seemed to choose her words carefully, mulling over her response for what felt like him an eternity. Then she blurted out, "Did Rory ever tell you what happened when Dean broke up with her the first time around?"
Okay, he had certainly not expected her to say that.
"No," he breathed out slowly, leaning back in his chair, fingers gripping the arms with a vice-like intensity.
"Well, that first day after it happened, she told me that she didn't want to wallow, that she wouldn't be one of those girls who falls apart because of a guy. So, she dragged me around town all day and made me get all these things on her checklist. My sixteen year old girl, and already she was more of an adult than I was. Then, she went to this Chilton party. And Tristan, this guy who liked her -he was a bit like you, but you've admittedly got nicer hair- he kissed her, and she started crying. I came home, and there she was, on the couch with a tub of ice cream. She said, 'I'm ready to wallow now.' With you, she didn't get that time. She graduated, turned down your proposal, and the next thing she knew, she was on a bus touring our great nation. Therefore, when she came home a couple days ago, it was the first time she'd really stopped, I think, for a really long while. Just stopped and seen what her life had turned into.
And you know Rory, she's the most logical person besides Mr Spock, but in her heart she's still that little girl who tried to re-create Alice falling down the rabbit hole and went into every wardrobe in town, looking for Narnia. ... As a parent, you can usually sense when you're kids awake and they shouldn't be, and I just had this feeling, so I went down the stairs. Once again, I found her on the couch, TV on, crying her eyes on. Can you guess what she'd found?"
Logan shook his head in answer.
"A midnight run of The Twilight Zone," Lorelai supplied, face etched in sadness for her daughter.
He started. "Was it...?"
"Yeah, it was 'The Long Morrow.' And she had all her stuff from the 'Logan Box' -I'll explain that later- spread out, the rocket right in the middle of it all. Looking at her, I knew that despite everything, she hadn't gotten over you, that she'd never get over you, and I don't think she ever wanted to."
The Huntzberger heir was silent for several minutes, sitting remarkably still for someone who's thoughts were racing at such a lightning speed.
"You've got that look on your face," Lorelai noted, blue eyes quizzically surveying him.
"What look?"
"Like she's the most precious thing since the invention of the coffee maker...and the most painful thing since decaf."
"Yeah, that sounds about right," Logan said with a dark chuckle, ultimately not surprised Lorelai had been able to sum up what he was feeling so well, whilst throwing in the obligatory coffee joke.
"I don't blame you, Logan. I don't blame you for what happened to Rory."
That made one of them, so he had to ask on a ragged puff of breath, "Why?"
"Because of everything I just told you, Logan. I don't blame you for what happened to Rory since you didn't even know what she planned to do in the first place, let alone how she felt. And the look in your eyes right now tells me everything that I could ever need to know about how you feel, and how much you still love her."
"What makes you think I still love her?"
The brunette roll her eyes, crossing her arms fiercely over her chest. Logan knew that look; he knew it very well. Rory had always levelled that same expression at him when he'd annoyed her or said and/or done something stupid. "Are you really going to pretend you don't, to me of all people?" she demanded fervently. "As if you didn't come to me for advice when she wouldn't talk to you, as if you didn't ask for my permission to marry her?" She took a breath, calming slightly, before continuing softly, "I don't know you like she does, obviously, but I think I know you well enough, and despite my lengthy and disastrous dating history, I know real love when I see it."
It was stupid, and pushing his luck, and it was neither the place nor the time for this, yet he found the words out of his mouth before he could truly process them. "But you didn't want her to marry me."
"I didn't want her to marry you then, yes," Lorelai amended, looking down at her hands, at her own wedding ring glinting on her finger.
"Why?"
"Because she was always meant to do something special." She said it like it was obvious.
His blood heated. "And you thought I'd keep her from that?"
"No, I think she'd keep herself from doing that, because of how much she loved you. She would have done anything for you, and that's scary, and I know she was scared of that, too. But she's all grown up now. There's nothing stopping her from having it all. I suppose it's just down to you now, kiddo."
A knock sounded at the door. Giving him a gentle smile, far more affectionate than any he'd ever received from his own mother, she went to answer it.
Through the half-open door, Logan had an almost unobstructed view of Lorelai putting her arms around Luke, face pressed into the flannel of his shirt. Not wanting to intrude, Logan stayed by the bed, but he couldn't help catching snatches of their conversation.
"I got everything I could think of," Luke was saying, gesturing to the duffel bags in his hands. "Spare clothes, extra toothbrushes, shampoo and conditioner. The second comfiest blanket, a hairbrush, lip balm, Rory's top ten paperbacks, since I thought hardbacks would be too heavy to hold. And, I even grabbed this," he said, pulling out a stuffed purple unicorn. Lorelai laughed quietly, tapping it's pointy horn.
"I haven't seen this in years."
"I'm surprised she kept it."
"Of course she did: you gave it to her."
A breath, then, "Luke?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm so scared."
"I know. Me too."
"I don't know what I'd do if..."
"Don't you think that, Lorelai. Not for one minute, do you hear? That's your little girl, our little girl, and she's a fighter, and she's stubborn as all hell. She's going to be just fine."
"Promise?" she asked him.
"Promise."
"Cross your heart and hope for pie?"
"With you around, there's always pie: I don't need to hope for it," Luke said, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. Lorelai pulled away, nervously smoothing the creases in Luke's flannel shirt.
"While you were gone, I spoke to Christopher, well, his secretary, since he couldn't even find the time to come to the phone after my eight hundred and fifty two messages," she murmured, and although Logan couldn't see her face directly, he knew she was likely frowning at the mere thought of the guy. He hadn't even thought of Rory's dad and his absence from the waiting room.
"What did she say?" asked Luke, and in that moment Logan truly admired him for putting his personal issues aside and focusing on Rory.
"That he's on his way, but won't be here til at least tomorrow. It seems that the 'My kid's in the hospital' card doesn't get you an immediate flight out of Paris. He was there for some work conference or something but stayed so that Gigi could have some time with Sherry. I still can't believe he hasn't called me back."
"I know," Luke said, voice equally soft.
"When it was my dad, it was different. But this is Rory. I know that everything isn't sunshine and rainbows between us, but that's not an excuse. Never. If that had been me in another country and he'd called to tell me that she was in the hospital, that she wasn't okay...there wouldn't be anything in the world to stop me getting to her, not a single thing. Not laws or timezones or the world's largest cup of coffee. Nothing."
"Hey, I know that. And Rory knows that, too. At the end of the day, that's all that matters, and when Christopher gets here, if you don't want to see him, I'll deal with him," Luke offered, placing a reassuring hand on her back.
For a second, just the briefest blips in time, Logan was infinitely jealous of the two of them, of how much they loved each other and the lengths they'd go to for the other. But he had no right to be: he'd thrown away that kind of love when he hadn't gotten the answer he wanted at the time.
After a brief moment, Logan heard Luke ask her, "Is that Logan sitting in Rory's room?"
"It is. Poor kid, you should have seen his face. I don't think I've ever seen someone go so pale. We had a talk."
"And?" he heard Luke press.
"And he's staying. Rory obviously wanted to see him, and even though I want to punch his blond head in, I have to respect that. If he gets annoying, we can put him on the coffee run," she said with an easy shrug.
Luke chuckled quietly, pulling Lorelai's jacket more tightly around her. "I'm surprised you'd entrust him with your beloved beverage," he quipped.
"Hey, the kid may have questionable relationship skills, but at least he appreciates the sanctity of coffee when it comes to us Gilmore's."
The couples bubble was interrupted by the appearance of a serious-faced doctor. He talked to the two of them quietly, and even from this distance Logan could see Lorelai gripping Luke's hand through the whole conversation, knuckles turning white. He didn't envy her. A brief nod and the doctor walked off, leaving the two if them in the hallway. Logan turned his head, elbows resting on the armrests of his chair. The brunette poked her head in, something akin to pity written in her expression. "I'm sorry, but we have to kick you out now, the doctors have some tests they need to do. They shouldn't be too long, or so they told me."
"Sure," Logan said, getting up out of the uncomfortable chair, back groaning in protest and being vertical once again. Like a magnet, he felt his gaze being pulled to Rory, and he gently ran his thumb across the back of her hand as he grabbed Lorelai's coffee and headed from the room.
"Thanks," she said, taking the cup gratefully. "This coffee is too excellent to miss out on."
"Ouch, that hurts," Luke said with a smile. "Logan," the man said with a nod.
"Hi, Luke. Nice to see you. I'm glad the two of you were finally able to sort everything out. I was always rooting for the two of you." Here, and now, probably wasn't the best time for it, but he wanted to be honest.
"Stop trying to make me want to forgive you," Lorelai moaned with a roll of her eyes, but Logan could tell she was secretly pleased. As the three of them made their way back to the waiting room, Logan was able to breathe just the tiniest bit easier, glad that he wasn't on his own, and that Lorelai was able to at least tolerate his presence
But at the sight of the seven desolate faces in front of him, he felt that hope die out. Because it didn't matter if Lorelai liked him or not, or if Luke was discreetly giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder: Rory was still in that room, and anything could happen to her.
She seemed to pick up on the dark mood, for she instantly clapped her hands to get everyone's attention.
"Come on, that's it! Enough of this moping about crap. If Rory could see us, she'd kick our asses for sitting around like a mess," Lorelai stated, completely in her element. "If she could see us, she wouldn't want us to be dwelling on what could happen. She'd want us to be thinking about nice, happy stuff like puppies and free cookie samples and finding an extra box of detergent when it's laundry day and you think you've run out."
"Really Lorelai?" Emily said with her usual unimpressed frown. "That's what you want us to think about? Laundry day? While my granddaughter's in there, possibly..."
"I remember when -Rory must have been about eight at the the time- Emily left me in charge of the seating arrangements for one of her D.A.R fundraisers."
Everyone turned their heads at the unexpected sound of Richard's voice, quiet yet clear, halting any further commentary.
"I was bored out of my mind, eyes practically bleeding as I gazed at this seating chart, and I'd almost given up when in came Rory, carrying a bowl of grapes and some cocktail sticks. She sat down at my desk, face completely serious, and she said, 'When I have homework or projects I don't really feel like doing, Mom always says to try and find something funny in them, to make it more interesting. So, I came up with this.' And she made grape stick-figure and came up with a backstory to go with it, and we made one for each guest and gave them all ridiculous lives. I think it was one of the first times I realized how truly special she was: other children would have gone off and played in the garden or ate chocolate all afternoon, but not Rory. She was just happy being together."
Emily took his hand, frown dissipated, replaced by tenderness.
"It was Christmas," she began, "and we had everyone over for our annual holiday party. That night, I lost an earring Richard had just given me, and I was frantically searching the floor, horrified by the prospect of someone seeing me with only one earring on. At the sight of my distress, Rory got up on a chair and started to sing some Christmas pop song; everyone was so distracted by the outburst that when I started going under tables, people hardly noticed. Then she got done from the chair, ran over, and gave me a hug. When she pulled away, she had my earring in her hand. Rory, who hated being the centre of attention, got up just to help me because she knew I'd be embarrassed if people saw me in such a state. Now when I wear them, I think of her."
"When Steve and Kwan were born, I was a mess," Lane piped up. "I remember taking them home that first night, exhausted out of my mind, close to tears and wondering how I was going to cope. But Rory showed up, completely out of the blue, even though she had so much going on in her own life. I remember, I just collapsed into her arms, and I told her I was scared about being a bad mother. And she said that if I was so worried already, then I was already a great mother, and that for kids, there is no amount of money in the world, no toy or book or movie or ice cream more precious or important than love, and knowing that you're loved. And that as long as I remembered that, everything would be okay."
"Last year, Rory was able to get the day off for Lorelai's birthday," said Luke, smiling at his girl as he said so. "We had this big surprise, and Rory organized the whole thing. She hardly slept for two days, and the poor kid was practically worn out. April came over for the party, and in the middle of the night Rory found her in the kitchen, freaking out about a test she had that week. Rory stayed up with her all night, calming her down. April eventually fell asleep, and when she did, Rory decorated the house to look like the American West, since that was what her test was about. She even made study charts and flash cards for her to take with her. Rory passed out on the couch, cowboy hat still on her head, and I remember carrying her to her room, thinking about how much she'd changed, and yet in her heart she was still that little girl I'd seen grow up, that little girl I loved so much and was so proud of. April aced that test, if any of you were wondering."
Geller kept it simple. "The day we graduated from Chilton, I was so nervous that I drank the last of her coffee and she didn't even yell at me. You make good coffee," Paris said, nodding her head at Luke.
"Here, here!" cheered Lorelai, who quietened down as Finn cleared his throat dramatically.
"Two years ago, I was in Detroit, at one of those awful business seminars. I hadn't seen a pretty face in over ninety six hours, and then I see Rory, coming out of a bookstore, arms crammed of course. I yelled at her across the street and then proceeded to lift her in a bear hug. But it was the middle of the night, it was pitch black, and it wasn't her fault that she assumed I was a creepo stalker and proceeded to break my nose with her book. The doctor said it was the neatest break they'd ever seen, direct and to the point. I wouldn't have expected anything less from our girl. I actually ended up going out with said lady doctor, and it was the most stable relationship I'd had, except for the one with my car, in a very long time. Of course, she broke up with me for some cardio-thorasic surgeon and then I crashed my car the week after, but it was all good fun. When I told her about it, she said it was her loss, that I was a great friend and I deserved to be happy. Her exact words were, 'Anyone who can do such a stellar reenactment of 'The Passion of the Christ' is capable of finding love.' No one had ever told me that before."
Colin swivelled in his chair, face thoughtful.
"We were at The Pub once. It was trivia night. I didn't know who the Care Bears were and Rory covered for me. That weekend, she made me watch them all with her, and I actually had a really good time. We'd hung out before, but she was always Logan's girl, even before they were dating, and I realized how good of a friend she was, that despite having an IQ higher than all of us combined, she was also really fun to be around. She even bought me a little toy one for my birthday. It was the green one, which I'd said was my favourite. I gave it back to her when she went on the campaign tour, and she sent me all these pictures of her with it, sitting on historical landmarks or holding her book open for her."
Doyle admitted, quietly but not weakly, "She helped me pick out a ring for Paris after spending nearly two months trying to find the right one. Turns out, I'd already had it, but I just hadn't realized it yet. Rory always saw potential wherever she looked."
The only one left, beside him, was Lorelai. For a moment, everyone was quiet, and eventually all she said was, "I haven't got a special moment. She's my daughter: every moment was special, even the bad ones, the hard ones, the really stupid and silly and crazy ones. Every one was the perfect moment."
Luckily, Logan was saved from spilling his emotional guts by the appearance of yet another doctor.
"Excuse me, are you Miss Gilmore's family?" the man asked, taking the assembled group in with a raised brow.
Lorelai offered him a dazzling smile, gesturing to everyone in turn like a ringmaster gesturing to their circus team.
"Mother, father in everything but blood, grandparents, best friend, angry best friend, angry best friend's fiancé, funny Aussie friend, more serious friend and...Logan," she finished hesitantly.
Well, at least he hadn't been given an awkward label, yet at the same time, it made him stand out more, heightened the fact he had not been part of Rory's life in a long time, and that hurt.
"Hi, I'm Doctor Edmundson, it's nice to meet you all. First off, I just wanted to say that our MRI scans came back negative for any major head trauma," at that they all breathed a sigh of relief, "although she does currently have a concussion, but nothing we can't easily treat. She's got a fractured pelvis, a few bruised ribs, two of which were broken. There was some internal bleeding, but luckily she was brought in quickly enough for us to get to it in time. I'd still like to run a few more tests, just for your peace of mind that we haven't missed anything. Could you take a look at these forms for me?"
"Sure, of course," Lorelai answered, joining him at the desk as she began to go through a stack of papers, likely medical histories and such. After that, it was decided that they'd each take a turn checking in on Rory while the rest got some sleep. Paris and Doyle went first, and it was at that time that Lane sat down next to Logan, the point of her chin digging into the knees she'd curled up to her chest. He might not have known her well, but he'd always thought of her as bright and bubbly and enthusiastic, blazing her own trail. Right now, though, she just looked like a young woman scared of losing who was practically her sister.
"Why was Paris so mad at you?" Lane asked, turning tired eyes towards him.
Despite himself, Logan summoned a smile. "I didn't realize you were awake for all that."
"Yeah," Lane nodded, "I heard the whole thing. I was just pretending to sleep to escape the awkwardness of Paris attempting to make small-talk with me, so I thought I'd give her an easy out."
"How generous of you."
"I know. But this isn't easy for her either, Logan," she continued seriously. "She doesn't have many people in her life, certainly no other friends she's as close to as Rory. If she didn't, Rory wouldn't be her maid of honour."
Rory's best friend took a breath, steeling herself for whatever she was about to say next, which was, "She missed you. All the time. It never really went away, I don't think. I guess true love is just one of those things, like a piece of gum stuck to your shoe or scratches on a record. It's permanent, and lasting, and it changes the shape of you; you never were what you were before."
Logan sighed deeply, leaning back in the uncomfortable hospital chair. "Come on, Lane. True love is for kids," he chastised her, although a part of him didn't really believe that, couldn't believe that, not after what he'd felt for Rory. And he'd felt so much for her.
Lane narrowed him with a glare, and he knew if she'd had her drum sticks on her she would have whacked him upside the head with them. "Really?" she demanded, throwing her hands in the air. "Okay then, Huntzberger, so you're telling me that you getting on a plane at a drop of a hat for her, in the middle of the night might I add, after not seeing her for over two years, doesn't matter? Or the fact that Rory, Miss Super-Planner, was going to get on a plane just to talk to you, without even knowing what you'd say? You're telling me, that when you heard, you didn't feel like your heart was gonna shrivel up and die at the thought of her not being alright? That you don't have a million and one regrets?"
"I don't have a million and one regrets," Logan informed her. "I only have the one."
"Well then, maybe you should go in there and fix that."
Logan thought this second time around, it might be easier; he'd already seen it, was already prepared. But walking back into that hospital room, seeing her on that bed...it killed him, all over again. It killed him to know that she might never wake up, or worse, and she'd never know just how much of a miserable wreck he'd been these past two years, how he hadn't really lived since she graduated, how he'd seemed to exist in some meaningless limbo, simply going through the motions of each day because that was what was expected of him.
His fingers were shaking as they grasped her own, and he willed them to still, to not betray how close he was from falling apart. Logan could count on one hand the number of times he'd cried in front of Rory; she was the only person to see him cry in years, but he wanted to be brave for her. She had always been so brave, and strong, and would never take any crap from him, wouldn't give him an inch until she'd had her say. Yet she'd always been gentle, too, and so sweet, and the mere thought of never seeing her smile again...
...it sent him into tears. Sent him to knees as he tumbled into the chair, forehead pressed into the mattress as he sobbed, and sobbed, and didn't stop. "I'm sorry, Ace," he said, gasping the words between his tears, nickname falling from his tongue despite it's lack of use, "I'm so sorry I let this happen."
Logan felt like he'd cry forever, like he'd cry and never stop, and maybe he might have, but when a voice spoke above his head the tears stopped, so frozen in shock was he as Rory murmured, "Is this a Huntzberger I see before me? And apologizing for things that aren't his fault, no less? My, this morphine must be the good stuff."
And then started all over again.
Author's Note: Greetings, readers! Welcome to another Rogan fanfic. As it turns out, this is the very first Rogan fic I ever wrote, but I haven't finished it until now. It was a terror to write, but I'm really proud of how it turned out.
As always, please feel free to click that lovely button and drop me a review.
Chapter two is in the works, I've got some big plans for it. There will probably only be another chapter, possibly two if I decide to split.
Happy start of July!
All my love, Temperance Cain