Gilmore Girls

These Things I Know

A/N: Lol. Now telling you whether or not it's going to be a Rogan or a Narco (if we're still calling it that) is silly. By the way, how do we get Sophie for Rory/Logan? However, I hate Dean…. And I have been in love with the idea of Rory and Logan from the very beginning. Happy reading! Genevra.

Marigot Bleu- Thank you kindly. Wouldn't you know that the one double episode I missed included 'Written in the Stars,' that's why I wondered. I'm an Aussie so we're only up to 'You Jump, I Jump, Jack' but my friends has the DVD's so I'm going to catch up. And yes, Gilmore fans are very clever J

Summary: You might finally have what you thought you always wanted but the truth is this- you don't know what you've got 'til its gone.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I affiliated with Gilmore Girls in anyway.


Chapter Four: Ill


Rory wiped the sweat off her face and paused for a second. She rested her body against the sink until she heard Dean's car pull into the driveway. She stood up straighter but didn't move until she heard the front door open.

"I'm home," he yelled down the hallway. She heard a rustling of plastic bags that got louder as he approached.

"Hey," she said, giving him a kiss and pasting on a smile when he walked into the kitchen.

"I bought dinner," he explained, setting the bags down on the ground. He looked at the table, which was already set and grimaced. "Don't tell me you…"

"I already cooked," she sighed, waving around at the pot of risotto that was simmering on the stove.

"Rory, you don't cook," Dean exclaimed. "Do you even remember the last time you were in the kitchen for something other than giving the cook instructions or pinching a pint of ice-cream and a tea-spoon?"

"It's not pinching if you paid for it," she muttered.

"You know what I mean," he sighed.

"I just, you know, wanted to try," she said, wiping her forehead again. She fanned herself unsuccessfully with the tea towel. "I don't feel so good. I think I might go lie down."

"Rory," Dean called as she walked heavily down the hall.

"It's fine," she said. "I'm just a little tired. Eat something."

She walked into the bedroom and changed into her pyjamas before slumping onto the bed. She focused on the whirring of the ceiling fan as her vision went blurry. She looked at the end of bed and watched as a blurry figure clad in black took off his leather jacket and walked to the other side of the bed and removing his clothes bar his boxers and hopping into bed next to her.

Her eyes closed and then opened. She shivered in the darkness that had overtaken the room and pulled the blankets around her, tighter and tighter. She rolled over, kicked the blankets away then bought them back and re-tangled them.

She looked at the end of bed and watched as a blurry figure clad in black took off his leather jacket and walked to the other side of the bed and removing his clothes bar his boxers and hopping into bed next to her.

"Logan?" she asked.

"Shh," he whispered, putting a finger to her lips. He reached out to her and she rolled away to the other side of the bed. He looked hurt but she was determined. He would hate her and it would be easier not to love him when he didn't love her.

Logan was not deterred. He reached out for her again and she let him. He began to stroke her hair and whisper into it. The background changed suddenly from darkness to purple. Dean appeared before her, wielding a knife. She tried to scream to warn Logan but her throat was dry and nothing came out.

Dean smirked menacingly and held the knife to her throat.

"If I can't have her, Huntzberger," he snarled, pressing the sharp metal blade into her pale flesh. "No one can. You should have stayed with me, Rory."

Logan wrenched Rory away and covered her with his body. She screamed when she felt the wet stickiness falling from where Dean had knicked her. She began to feel faint when she heard the sickening tear of flesh as Dean plunged the knife into Logan.

"No," she wailed, throwing herself at his body. Dean laughed mirthlessly and the room changed to orange. Dean changed to Lorelai and Logan to Emily.

"We told you to stay with Logan," Emily smirked, her tone holier-than-thou and knowing.

"Yeah, babe. He loved you," her mother agreed, softer. She smiled. "And now he's dead."

The women both threw their heads back and began to laugh. Their noses turned to beaks, their arms to wings and their legs to talons and suddenly, two ravens began to fly across the room. They circled the room, which was now full of a murky, foggy green, before coming to rest on the bed-head. Rory stared at them petrified. Her breathing was heavy and she felt like crying. Although his body was gone, she could still feel Logan's blood on her, seeping through her clothes.

The ravens both seemed to look Rory in the eye before resuming their harrowing cackle. She woke with a start and sat up in bed, looking around her. She was dizzy and she was hot. She reached down, still feeling the blood and realized it wasn't blood at all but sweat, which poured off every inch of her body. The bed was damp and ever inch of her body glistened with the droplets.

She wiped her brow with her tank top and coughed, her throat feeling like it had been ripped open with every movement. Her head pounded and her stomach swirled. She considered moving to the bathroom but she couldn't make herself move. Rory coughed again and began to panic. She tried to calm herself by gulping great big breaths, deep lungfuls of air. Her eyes were wild and roaming.

She had felt like this once before and Logan, well Logan had come to the rescue but he wasn't here now and albeit sleeping, Dean was. She was left with two choices. She could take care of herself or she could wake Dean. She made the decision quickly and leant over to Dean, who had come to bed at some point in the night, and shook him lightly.

"What's going on?" he asked, looking at her blearily. She gazed back at him all flushed and glassy-eyed. He reached out to her, his head not moving from the pillow. "Are you okay?"

"I feel sick," she said simply. Dean placed his hand on her forehead.

"You're boiling," he remarked. "Let me get you an aspirin or some water."

"No, it's fine," she said, pulling herself out of bed. "I'll go myself."

"Rory, I insist," he said, not making a move.

"Dean, don't worry about it," she sighed, placing her hands on her temples and massaging. "I'll go myself and I'll sleep in the spare room. It'll be cooler and I won't disturb you."

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, feigning a smile. "I'm sure."

-

"Rory, wake up," Logan said, shaking her. Her eyes opened with a jolt. She was boiling. Logan helped her sit up and he handed her a glass of water whish she began to sip gratefully. He ran a cool hand over her face and peered at her in concern. "You alright there, Ace?"

She stared at him before beginning to cry in great, big, gasping sobs.

"Hey, hey," he comforted her. He pulled her close and held her, his hands playing with her hair.

"I just feel like crap," she cried. "My head hurts and my throat hurts and I'm so hot."

She started pushing her pillows and blankets away and pulling at her clothes.

"Shh," Logan whispered, pushing her gently so she was lying down. He leant down and rolled the legs of track pants and the midriff of her tank-top up before pushing the quilt down to the bottom of the bed. It was a New Haven winter and despite their central heating, the room was cool. Clothed only in boxers and a t-shirt, Logan walked over to the thermostat and turned it down. Immediately, they were hit with a cool wave. Before coming back to bed, Logan went into the bathroom to refill the glass and find some aspirin. On second thought, he grabbed a face washer and put it under the faucet.

He placed the water glass and the aspirin on her bedside table and then crawled into bed. Rory dutifully took the aspirin and drank some water before lying back down and staring blankly at the wall. Logan leant over her and began to gently wipe the washer over her.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked, rolling over. She shivered slightly as his hands, and the washer, touched her stomach.

"I'm fine," he answered. She blinked and raised her hands, placing them on the side of his face.

"Do you want me to sleep in another room?" she asked, moving her hands away.

"No," he said, quietly emphatic. "I'm fine, Ace."

"You're shivering," she noticed, concern etched into her face.

"Rory," he sighed, using her real name and stopping the argument once and for all. "You try to sleep, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed. She let him lean over and kiss her forehead. Her eyes began to close as she drifted to sleep. "I love you, Logan."

"I love you too, Ace," he whispered tenderly. She fell asleep and Logan lay there, wiping her exposed skin with the washer. She woke up in the morning and shivered in the cold air. She turned to Logan and brushed her fingers against his arms slightly.

"What's wrong?" he asked, waking with a start. He sat up, looking frazzled, and Rory knew he had barely slept. "Are you okay?"

"You didn't sleep at all, did you?" she asked, shaking her head softly.

"Not much," he admitted with a nonchalant shrug. "Are you feeling okay?"

"A bit better," she answered. "I still feel like crap but I think the worst is over."

"Good," he smiled. He yawned and looked over at the clock. "I should get ready for work."

"No," she said, her voice weak but forceful. "You're not going anywhere."

"But the paper…" he started.

"Can run by itself," she said, wearily. "It has before and it will again. Besides, I'm sick and I want my husband."

"Ror," he said, tilting his head, unconvinced. She pouted and he sighed. "Fine. I'll just go in for an hour."

Rory sighed and rolled over. She stared blankly at the wall as he showered and dressed. He came over and knelt down next to the bed to kiss her goodbye. She turned away as tears unexpectedly leapt to her eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, sitting on the bed next to her. He gently turned her head back and wiping a tear that had escaped away.

"Do you really have to go?" she asked, her voice pitiful. She wiped another tear away and as something stirred in his stomach, Logan felt awful.

"No," he answered as she rested her head on his lap. His fingers played with her hair and her hands rested on his chest. He leant down and pressed his lips into her hair. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm sorry," she cried. "I just feel like crap."

"It's okay," he comforted.

"I'm sorry for crying," she said, sobbing harder.

"You never have to apologise for that," he said, smoothing her hair. His voice was soft but his eyes were resolute. "Ever."

-

Rory rummaged around the bathroom for the aspirin. She found them and forced them down her throat as she drank the rest of the water. She made her way into the spare room and changed into a pair of old shorts before lying down on the cool quilt and letting the air from the fan wash over her. her head was swimming and she was nauseous but at least she was cooler.

She looked at the clock. It was only 9 o'clock. Instinctively, she grabbed her phone and dialed her home number.

"Hello, Huntzberger residence," Marisa answered.

"Marisa, it's me," she whispered. "Rory."

"Ah, Mrs. Huntzberger. I'll just put you through to Mr. Huntzberger."

"Thank you, Marisa," Rory sighed. She waited a moment before she heard the click symbolizing the call had been put through.

"Hello," Logan said into the phone. Rory froze, said nothing, but she began to silently cry. She heard Logan's frustrated sigh. "Hello?"

"I'm so sorry," Rory cried. "I shouldn't have rung."

"Rory, what's going on?" he asked, frustrated.

"I feel like crap," she sobbed. "Worse than before."

"Well, there's nothing I can do about it," he retorted. "You made damn sure of that. Cant you just get lover boy to make it better?"

"There's nothing he can do," she admitted. "He didn't even get out of bed. He's still asleep. He's no you."

She sounded so lost and broken that Logan couldn't help but feel for her.

"Look, have some OJ, some aspirin, put a cold wet washer on your face and try to sleep," he sighed, as comfortingly as he could.

"I will," she sniffed. "Thank you."

She hung up and did exactly what he ordered, except for taking the aspirin. She had a feeling that even though he hated her, he didn't want her overdosing and dead. Before she went to sleep, she rang her florist and left a message on her phone. She ordered a bunch of pink Oriental lilies, a Logan and Rory tradition, to be delivered to his office in the morning with a simple white card reading 'Thank you' on one side and 'I'm sorry on the other,' before falling into a deep sleep.

She woke briefly when Dean came into check on her later that night and again when he left in the morning leaving her with a bottle of OJ, some more aspiring, a magazine and a peck on the cheek. She slept again and when she awoke, for real, she spotted a magnificent array of pink and white Oriental lilies at her bedside. She searched for the card and found it.

'Feel better,' it said on one side and on the other, 'You're welcome and you're forgiven but enough.'

She closed her eyes and clutched her stomach, tears running down her face at frequent intervals. She wasn't supposed to feel like this. She was supposed to feel glad he was letting her go, happy.

She heard the front door open and she quickly hid the card. Dean came into the bedroom.

"Hey," he said. She smiled wordlessly and let him kiss her. "Better?"

"A little," she replied.

"Who are the flowers from?" he asked with a smile.

"A friend," she answered. She inhaled and exhaled. "You want me to make you something for dinner?"