Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or themes from Gilmore Girls. Life would certainly be interesting if I did though, huh?
Logan had taken the car. Granted, all of Rory's possessions fit into two very well organized duffel bags, and it was true that she didn't precisely need a car to transport them to Star's Hollow, but it was the principal of it. He had taken the car. Sighing, Rory dragged her bags to the hallway, and before slamming the door, took one last sweeping look inside. Despite of everything, Rory felt a pang. They were supposed to have started their lives together here…to move onto bigger and better things. Except she had become a copy editor for a tabloid newspaper, and the last time Logan had lost his job, he hadn't bothered to search for a new one. She sighed again, running her fingers through her hair. Despite all that, despite everything, Rory had loved him. And as she furiously jammed the down button on the dilapidated elevator, she regretted it.
The train ride had taken two hours. In spite of the fact that Star's Hollow was a mere 30 miles away from Shrewett, there had been a problem with the train, and the ride had taken two hours. Rory would have been able to stand the dank, grimy compartment for…a while, she was a fighter after all, but two hours was enough to make anyone weary. Slowly standing, she began to stretch her legs, grabbing one duffel from the rack, and the other from the chair opposite of hers. As she turned to leave, she cursed lightly, realizing that she had almost forgotten her book on the seat. Wearily she doubled back, grabbing the thin spine between her fingers, and attempting to exit the train gracefully. Graceful and swan like were not words generally associated with the Gilmores, despite her grandparents carefully masked actions. Rory did not exit the train gracefully. In fact, after pulling and tugging the caught edge of her makeshift suitcase, she ended up tugging so hard that she fell backwards. Into a puddle.
"Crap." She murmured, standing quickly and praying that the prying eyes of Star's Hollow had trained themselves someplace else. She slung the lighter bag of clothes over her shoulder, and began to head towards Luke's, where at least some of the answers to her questions were.
"Need a hand?" A voice said from behind her, and as Rory spun to reply, the words died on her lips as she stared into the eyes of her past.
Author's Note: I bet you have no idea who it is. And that you won't be upset by it, of course. Oh by the way, would you believe me if I told you that I wrote this entire chapter in one sitting while listening to the Postal Service album? What can I say, they inspire me.
