A/N Special thanks to my betas! Thanks to Orbit and Conny for awesome comments/suggestions/rewrites and big thanks to Excentrik Chick for Rory/Logan characterization help!

Big cookie if you can tell me the two books I referenced!

What did I expect?

To come here and find anyone?

Find open arms to greet me

And friends to feed me

I sicken myself so much

And you eat my kind for breakfast

Toad the Wet Sprocket – Whatever I Fear

Rory

The morning after D-day

I wave weakly as my mother leaves the pool house. Mom and Luke, engaged. I smile a little in spite of myself. They are perfect together. Just perfect.

I sigh, and my mother's words echo in my head:

"Just promise me that you won't run from me. You won't hide from me. Don't shut me out altogether. Nothing good can come of that."

She's one to talk. But then, I guess that means she would know.

I sit on the couch and try to figure out what I'm going to do for the day. My unpacking is mostly finished – when all you really bring along is reading material, there isn't much to do.

I should call Logan. Or Lane. Someone. But I don't feel like talking to anyone today. I just need a bit of time to think – some time to get away from reality.

I look over on the desk and see my laptop staring at me. I decide to check my email quickly. I guess some form of interaction is probably good for me.

Nothing really new, except a nice, sanitary email from Dad. Since the incident, we've been emailing back and forth, though we never really say anything. He tells me about Gigi, I tell him about school, and we stay away from any real topics.

Well, I guess he will find out sooner or later. May as well make it sooner than later.

Dad,

Hope all is well with you and Gigi. Not much new here.

I've decided to take a break from school. I'm not sure when I will go back. I've recently realized I'm not sure what I should do with my life. Grandma and Grandpa are helping me find a job for the summer and letting me live in the pool house.

Just wanted to make sure you're apprised of the situation.

Love,

Rory

I stare at it for a moment before I hit the send button. Not very articulate, maybe even a bit cruel; but I guess it will do.

I sigh and look around, searching for a way to occupy myself. I look up and see a book with a yellow and black dust jacket peeking out from one of the last boxes. Losing myself in a book is definitely preferable to contemplating my lack of direction.

Committing absurdities with Ignatius J. Reilly sounds like a good way to spend the day. I really have to try a Lucky Dog when I finally make it to New Orleans….

--------------------

A few hours later, about the time that Ignatius is actually starting to enjoy Lucky Dogs himself, my phone rings. I debate for a moment whether or not I should pick it up, but I finally acquiesce and answer.

I look at the caller ID, and it the number is for a sandwich shop. Hmph.

I answer and hear Lane screaming at me "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD! I just heard! How fantastic is that!"

"What are you talking about? And where are you calling me from?" I ask, confused.

"I'm in the van – we're driving to our first 'sponsor' house. And I'm calling you on Gil's cell phone. Thank God for free weekend minutes. And I'm talking about your Mom and Luke!"

"Yeah," I respond, trying to sound enthusiastic. "It is really awesome, isn't it?"

"It's perfect is what it is," Lane responds. "They are perfect. It's about damn time."

"They are perfect, aren't they?" I respond, becoming wistful in spite of myself, trailing off into silence.

"Rory, are you okay?" Lane asks

"Fine, I'm fine," I respond quickly. "Lane, I've got to go. It's time for me to go have tea with my grandmother. Things will get ugly if I am late."

"With your grandmother?" she asks, confused.

"Look, I've got to go. I'll explain it to you later, okay? Call me after your first gig. Bye," I say the words quickly, without allowing her to time to respond, and hang up as soon as I've said goodbye. I know I'll have to tell Lane the story at some point, but I just can't muster up the energy to talk about it today.

Suddenly, returning to the absurdities of Ignatius J. Reilly isn't as inviting.

My perfect mother with her perfect boyfriend. Fiancé now, I guess.

Perfect.

------------------

Two days since D-Day. Dinner

My grandfather saying my name quickly shakes me from the daze I am in.

"Rory," he repeats, irritation in his voice.

"Yes, Grandpa?" I answer.

"Tomorrow I will spend some time making calls at the office. I am sure by the end of the day I will be able to find a suitable position for you. We should plan for you to start Tuesday, don't you think?" he asks, softening a bit.

"Sure, Grandpa. Tuesday sounds fine."

"And not to worry, Rory, I will make sure that time off to take care of that unfortunate incident is discussed before you start."

I nod. It is amazing how quickly we make sure not to discuss things directly in this family. And Grandma has barely said a word through the entire meal.

"Grandma, Grandpa, may I be excused?" I ask quietly. My head is starting to pound.

They both nod silently and I get up and go out to the pool house. I have to find something to distract me. Ignatius J. Reilly has already driven off into the sunset, so I decide to tackle something else. Maybe something with a bit more angst. I'll overload my senses with emotion until I feel so much I shut down. Steinbeck is always good for that. I'll read about failed lettuce shipments and failed relationships with broken-hearted parents.

Catharsis.

-------------------

Three days since D-Day, midday

"Hey Ace," Logan says as I open the door to the pool house.

"Hey Logan," I respond hesitantly. "What are you doing here?"

"Why am I here? Maybe you didn't notice the four voicemails I've left you since Thursday night? Classes ended a week ago and already your brain is taking a vacation?" he says, pinning me down with his eyes.

"I just thought I'd join you on the beach," I respond, trying to lighten the mood.

It doesn't work.

"So, are you going to update me and tell me what's going on?" he asks, pulling me close to him by my elbows.

I hesitate, but decide I can't avoid telling him what is happening. "Well, I've decided that I'm not going back to school in the fall."

"What? That's crazy. Why not?" he asks, taking my face in his hands and forcing me to look at him.

"I just don't really think I'm cut out for journalism," I answer with a shaky voice. Damn it. I've been strong so far. The minute he shows up I turn into a blubbering idiot. Well, maybe not blubbering, but an idiot.

"Rory," he says, his voice serious. "You know better than that. This is about what my father said, isn't it?"

"No," I tell him, without conviction. "I mean - yes. If I can't do it Logan, then there's no point preparing for it, is there?"

"But you can do it," he says, staring through me with those piercing brown eyes. "Don't doubt yourself."

"Since when did you become a cheerleader?" I ask, trying to chide him away from the seriousness.

"Since I know my father is an ass and not terribly concerned with the truth," he says, flashing that incredible grin. He takes my hand and pulls me over to the couch. "Why don't you update me about what's been going on with you?"

I spend the next 20 minutes telling him about my decision. While I do tell him about my mother's disapproval and coming to my grandparents, I leave out the part about my meltdown in front of my grandfather. He doesn't really need to know about that. And he sits and listens patiently while I talk.

"Logan, my whole life, I've focused on becoming a journalist. It is the only thing I ever worked for. What if I spent so much time convincing myself that's what I wanted I lost perspective on everything else?" I finish.

"I don't know," he responds, flashing me a serious smile, his eyes giving away his concern. "Okay, Ace, I'm only going to say this once. I don't think you should drop out of school. I'll be here either way, but I don't think you should."

"Why not?" I ask, staring at my hands.

"Because you fit there. I once saw you sniffing a book in one of the libraries on campus. You can't honestly tell me you think you belong somewhere else, can you?"

"Logan, I'm just not sure about anything right now," I sigh, taking a deep breath. "I just need some time, some distance from it all so I can think."

"Fine, but for now, promise me you won't withdraw from the classes you enrolled in for the fall," he says, rubbing my back lightly.

"How do you know I signed up for classes in the fall already?" I question.

"Because you made me come with you to the bookstore on campus the day the fall course schedule came out, and you spent days poring over the classes. Then you told me you were going to go into online registration at midnight on the first date you were able, so you would get the best possible pick of classes," he smiles. "And you did all of this weeks ago."

I nod silently and put my head on his shoulder. He seems to understand what I need and he wraps his arm around my shoulder, holding me silently for a moment.

"Rory," he says quietly. "Why was your grandmother so cold to me when she answered the door and saw me?" He sounds worried.

"Well, probably because I stole a boat with you," I say, stating the obvious.

"Okay…maybe. But it seemed like something more."