Gilmore Girls

These Things I Know

A/N: Boy, am I on a roll or what? I'll just have you know that I have a million different story ideas and one-shot ideas that have probably already been done or will be by the time I finish this but I'm giving them up to work on this. Happy reading! Genevra.

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 Five: Options


The bells woke him from his deep sleep. He blinked and looked around the room trying to figure out where he was. The bells tolled again and he remembered. Venice. Colin was here somewhere too, having decided that the only way to drag Logan out of his stupor was to take him out of the country and away from all distractions and memories. Of course, the fact that Colin's wife had a desperate need to shop in Europe and Colin needed some male company had nothing to do with it.

Logan sighed and pulled the pillow he was hugging closer to his body. He leant down and sniffed it, breathing in Rory's familiar and comforting smell. He was pathetic. Rory Gilmore had made him pathetic and he was sick of it. If only she knew that he slept with an old pillowcase of hers and that he'd bought it to Europe with him. If only she knew that he still wore her bathrobe around that he'd left at home with Finn who was house-sitting or that he had kept a bottle of her perfume to spray to smell and with the smell recapture the love, the spirit that they once had.

He got up and walked around the room, pacing to gather his thoughts. He poured himself a scotch and grimaced as the burning liquid raced down his throat. He took another sip and he grimaced again, though not as much. Taking a seat, he sighed and picked up the phone to call his father and tell him what was going on.

Enough was enough. Logan was sick of this. Was sick of Rory leaving him and then calling him whenever she needed something. Was sick of Rory leaving him and not doing anything about it. Was sick of hurting over it. Was sick of Rory full stop.

He needed something to happen. He needed something to change and his heart told him that the only way was to push things along. He hated the fact that he had to call his father and he hated the fact that he had to be the initiator. It should have been her since she was the one who had left him.

A lump appeared in Logan's throat as the number dialed and his father picked up. Before he could stop it, he began to cry.

"Dad," he whispered.

"Logan?" his father replied.

"I miss her, Dad. I miss her so much."

-

The phone rang repeatedly and the non-stop drone of the vibration against the bedside table was becoming annoying. Grunting, a still ill Rory pushed her hair out of her eyes and reached for the phone. She groaned when she saw the name on the screen and she quickly took a sip of water to calm her dry throat before answering.

"Mitchum, what is it?" she asked, her tone exhausted and fed-up.

"I was just calling to find out when you were going to call in your pre-nup," he asked. "I was just looking over it and it never stated that you had to wait until divorce proceedings were finalized and though that does make sense, if you want to take it before then, I'll need to make arrangements. You have filed, haven't you?"

"What?" Rory asked, pulling herself out of bed. She shook her head to clear it and paced around the room. "No, I haven't."

"Having second thoughts?" he asked, chuckling slightly. "If so, I need to know that too because I'm paying my lawyers a fortune."

"I'm not having second thoughts," Rory snapped. She spotted a post-it stuck to the bedroom and door and read it. Dean had already left for work. He was never around. She crumpled the note, threw it on the ground and placed her free hand to her temple. "I just hadn't thought about divorce yet."

"Well, I suggest you do," Mitchum said.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you, Mitchum? You never wanted me and Logan to get married in the first place," Rory said.

"Rubbish. I always wanted you and Logan to get married," Mitchum shot-back.

"No, you didn't. You have never thought that I'm good enough and you hate the fact that I have a career and that I'm not just a trophy wife who spends my hours picking out drapes," she spat. "You never thought that this marriage would work and you never wanted it too."

"If I thought that, then why did I give you one of my newspapers?" Mitchum asked. He let Rory flounder in the silence before speaking. "You know I think you're very talented and you know I would never hand over one of my papers to anyone even if they were a Huntzberger-"

"By marriage only," Rory spat.

"But still, a Huntzberger," Mitchum continued. "But Rory, if I had ever thought that yours and Logan's marriage would end, I wouldn't have arranged for you to take over NYT."

"But you only acquired it because of me," Rory said. "Because Logan knew it was my dream to work there and I couldn't if I was married to him."

"Best decision he ever made," Mitchum said. "NYT has made us a fortune and yet even though your dream had been realized, you still chose not to work there."

"I couldn't leave Logan," Rory whispered.

"Exactly," Mitchum said. "You couldn't then and you can't now even if it means not being just the editor in-chief at NYT but actually running the newspaper."

"I don't want your newspaper, Mitchum," Rory said, the bile rising in your throat.

"You don't get a choice," he shot-back. "I can't change the pre-nup. It's ironclad. You could leave everything the way it is but of course, if you want it to become even better, you'd have to leave your carpenter- yes, Logan's told me everything- and go to New York. Live your dream, Rory, since you've broken my son's heart. One of you should be happy."

"I don't care what you think about my decision but just as I wouldn't leave Logan then, I wont leave Dean now. NYT will stay as it is."

"Then you're making a big mistake," Mitchum said, his voice soft but threatening. "You can't run away from this, Gilmore."

"It's Huntzberger," she said, defiantly.

"It won't be soon enough," Mitchum replied. "If you don't file for divorce, we will."

"You wouldn't," Rory said.

"We would," he replied. "And this company will go back to they way it's always been. Without NYT."

"This is about business?" Rory gasped. "I cannot believe this."

"It's never not about business," Mitchum said. "Anything you want to can be business and this time, the business is that my son's heart is broken and divorce will be a way to help him get over it."

"Ending our marriage will be a way to get over it?" Rory asked. "Tell me how that works."

"Closure, Rory," Mitchum replied. He paused. "But one thing is for sure. I don't like my son calling me in tears and telling me how much he missed you. I want you out of his life. I expect to hear from you or your lawyer by the end of the week."

He hung up leaving Rory gasping and reeling, like a stranded fish. She screamed angrily and threw the phone across the wall. It careened across the room and she watched as it fell apart and the pieces slid down to the ground. It only made her angrier. She grabbed random objects, hairbrushes, perfume bottles, a photo frame, and threw them, her angry cries getting louder and more furious every time. Never before had she been so glad that Dean lived so far out of town and no one could hear her.

She found one last object, the box of flowers that Logan had sent her and she sent it flying across the room. She gasped and covered her mouth as the blooms flew all over the ground and water spilt, soaking quickly into the carpet. She sunk to her hands and knees and crawled over to it, picking up each of the flowers one by one and placing them back in the box. She crawled back to the other side of the room and rummaged through her top drawer and pulled out the card that had accompanied the flowers. She began to sob as she read it, the words sinking deeper and deeper in as she read it again and again. He was over her already. He had barely given her a chance and he wanted to end it.

She clutched her stomach and out of the corner of her eye she spotted a picture of the two that she had carelessly thrown into the drawer. They were standing in a corner, holding each other, oblivious to their surroundings and the people around them. Rory was smiling and looking at the ground and Logan's mouth was open as if he was saying something romantic.

Rory couldn't remember the exact moment or event the picture had been taken at but she knew her mother had given it to her. She was struck briefly with grief before anger and fury took over again. She pushed herself off the floor and shoved the drawer shut with her hip, causing all the remaining items on the table to rock and fall. She stormed into the bathroom and changed out of her pyjamas into jeans and a t-shirt. She didn't bother showering or brushing her hair and teeth. Her face make-upless and clean. She stormed to the car and turned it on. She drove the familiar streets towards hers and Logan's New Haven mansion in silent rage.

She slammed on the brakes and parked in front of the door. She stormed up the stairs and knocked on the door impatiently. Within seconds, a blonde maid answered the door.

"Good morning, ma'am," she said.

"Morning," Rory said, shooting past her. She stomped up the stairs and ran straight to her and Logan's bedroom. She opened the door and stepped in. He was still in bed and she shuddered. "What the hell were you thinking, Logan? Telling your father? You hate your father. And besides, you can't do this. You don't get to decide these sort of things. And what do you mean enough is enough? What if I'm not ready for it to be enough yet? And did you ever even consider why I hadn't filed for divorce yet? Huh? Did you? Logan, answer me."

"That might be a little hard, love," Finn said, rolling over and glaring at her. "Considering I'm not Logan."

"Where the hell is my husband?" Rory yelled. "And what the hell are you doing in my bed?"

"Maybe if you'd talked to Logan, whom by the way is hardly your husband anymore, then maybe you'd know," Finn snarled, getting angrier by the second. "Who the hell are you to walk in here and ask Logan those sorts of questions?"

"Who the hell are you to lie in my bed and judge me?" Rory shot back as a cute red-head entered the bedroom carrying two cups of coffee and wearing Rory's bathrobe.

"You didn't tell me there was going to be company," the redhead smiled, handing Finn one of the coffees and kissing him on the lips.

"Oh, she's not staying, love. Are you, Ace?" Finn replied, not taking his eyes off Rory. Her nickname slid out of his lips with a bitter hiss.

"You're wearing my bathrobe," Rory spat, glaring at the girl.

"You said you weren't married," the redhead said, moving away from Finn. "Despicable."

"He's not married," Rory sighed. "But this is my house and that's my bed and my bathrobe and if you don't mind, I'd like it back."

"I thought you said the owner of this house was in Europe," she repeated.

"He is," Finn answered. "This is his soon to be ex-wife."

"Rory Huntzberger," Rory introduced herself before turning back to Finn. "What do you mean in Europe? What do you mean soon to be ex-wife?"

"Logan is in Europe with Colin and Stephanie getting over you," Finn explained. "And I am staying here until he gets back."

"This is my house too," Rory said. "And I never said you could."

"That was a lame comeback, Rory," Finn replied, rolling his eyes.

"I'm sorry it wasn't up to my usual standards but what do you expect?" she spat.

"I'm sorry too, love," Finn replied. "But I expected more from you."

"Finn, why does it hurt so much?" Rory asked, suddenly changing tack.

"Why does what hurt so much?" he asked.

"This," she said, clutching her stomach. She motioned around the room. "Being here."

"Because maybe you're not really over Logan," he said. "He's not over you, heaven knows why."

"Finn," she pleaded. "Don't."

"I'm sorry, love, but what do you expect? You left him for another man. You broke his heart," Finn replied.

"Yes, but you're supposed to be my friend too. Did anyone ever stop to ask why? Did anyone ever stop to think my heart would be broken too?" Rory asked, tearily. She sunk to the floor, her back resting against the bed. Finn moved so his head at the other end of the bed, next to Rory's.

"You know what I'm going to say to that," he said. "You're a smart one. You know why."

"I know," she replied, pushing her palms against her eyes to stop another flow of tears. She sighed before flopping down miserably. "Finn, will you tell him to call me when he gets back?"

"No," Finn said. "I won't."

She nodded and accepted it before standing up and walking dejectedly towards the door.

"I will however call you when he gets back," Finn said, giving in. "As long as you promise me one thing."

"Anything," Rory whispered, looking back.

"That you'll leave him alone," Finn said.

"But…"

"Take it or leave it, Rory," Finn said, all seriousness. "You won't call him. You won't come over her. You won't have anything to do with him until you're ready to come back to him or to divorce him."

"Fine," she said. "I will."

She left the room and walked down the hallways and out of the house. She got into the car and drove off, leaving a cloud of smoke behind her.

But he missed her. Logan missed her. Mitchum had said that and in a way, she missed him too.

Leave him. Or come back. Have a life with him or a life without him.

Neither was an option.