Author's Note: Okay, so this was my very first story and I've always gone back and hated how quickly and suddenly I ended it. I hope this provides a little more closure for readers.

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing

Chapter Three

Logan pulled into the driveway, rolling up towards the front door before cutting the engine. Rory awoke slowly, blinking awake and glancing around. They were home. Rory climbed slowly out of the car, watching as Logan circled around to the garage. A minute later he reappeared, jogging slowly towards Rory. She moved to unlock the front door but Logan reached out, catching her by her slim wrist.

"Rory," Logan whispered, cooing softly into her hair. She smelled so good. It was all he could do to keep from crushing her in his arms. He wanted to be so close to her, to feel her body against his. He knew that soon—too soon—she would be gone and he would no longer be able to hold her at all, much less in a giant bear hug. The couple remained locked in each other's arms for a while before finally moving apart. When Logan looked down at Rory her eyes were full of tears.

"I don't want to do this Logan, I just want to go back to how things were," Rory mumbled miserably. Logan stared at Rory, his heart reaching out to her. He didn't want her to have to go through it—any of it. If he could he would trade places with Rory in a second. But for the first time in his life, Logan Huntzburger was completely helpless.

Rory stood in her bedroom later that night, completely alone. She remembered the first time she had heard the diagnosis—she and Logan had been married just a little over a year and a half. They had been devastated but had faithfully gone to all of the doctor appointments, Rory had endured all of the chemotherapy and Logan had been there with her every step of the way. Rory, on her eternal quest for knowledge had done every bit of research on every topic imaginable. She had found potential causes and preventions, advice from doctor's, miracles and horror stories and in the end she had been lucky enough to actually be among one of the survivor stories. She and Logan had been ecstatic and had vowed to live life to the fullest. And they had. They had been going to exotic places, seeing everything they could, taking in the world. And in the past few years they had finally been talking about kids. Now though—everything was being thrown into a tailspin again. Rory just couldn't bear to put Logan through it all again. She knew that it had been hard for her, but she knew how terribly it had affected Logan as well. He had been a wreck and had nearly killed himself trying to be strong for Rory.

"Hey Ror, I'm going to work in my office for a little while, okay?" Logan called through the bedroom door. Rory jumped, startled by his voice, and nodded to herself.

"Okay, I'll be up here," she called back after a moment as brightly as she could. It was the least she could do for him after all—try and act normal. She listened for his heavy footsteps to disappear down the hallway before collapsing into the bed, a sigh of anguish escaping her lips.

"Why is this happening—again?" She demanded of her pillow, slamming her fist weakly against the headboard. "Why is this happening to me?" With another cry of anger Rory buried herself in the swarms of blankets and pillows and settled into a restless night of sleep.

Logan sat in his office, absently rolling his glass paperweight. It had been a gift from Rory—for their first wedding anniversary. It was solid glass, like some psychic's crystal ball. On the outside the world's features were etched into the glass. Rory had laughed when she handed it to him, saying that he acted like he had the world in the palm of his hand and now he actually could hold it. They had laughed. At the time. Why was it so damn funny again, Logan wondered, a blast of anger suddenly surging through him. Nothing could be funny. Rory was dying. The doctor had given her a few months, a year tops. Anything beyond that would be a miracle. That's what we'll have then, Logan thought fiercely to himself. If a miracle is what we need then a miracle is what we're going to get! Logan was no stranger with miracles. It had been a miracle that Rory had even agreed to go out with him in the first place and even more of a miracle that she had stayed with him through all of his antics. It had been a miracle that Rory had later agreed to marry him and even more of a miracle that they had survived so long. He thought for sure that eventually she would open her eyes and realize the insanity she had married into but she had never done that. She had kept on loving him for years which had been a miracle in itself. Logan only hoped that now a miracle was in reach.

The clock chimed midnight long before Logan finally decided to go up to bed. He had resolved that he would do everything in his power to save Rory no matter what. He just hoped that all of his efforts would be enough. He stood up, pushing back from his desk so that his chair wobbled ominously before finally settling down in its rightful place. He looked down at the glass paperweight in his hand with a disparaging smirk painted across his chiseled features. The world in my hand my ass, he thought bitterly recalling how funny he thought the joke was at the time. If he really had control over that type of thing he wouldn't have made Rory get sick again. He wouldn't have made herget sick in the first place for that matter. Now the paperweight seemed so...insignificant. A piece of glass couldn't represent the earth. It couldn't represent anything. It was just a stupid object madefor money. Money that did absolutely nothing in the end. Money that didn't save lives or help people. It just sat there, waiting to be spent on stupid glass paperweights. Logan stared atthe ball in his handfor a moment longer before heaving it against the wall, delighting as it shattered into a million sparkling shards.