AN: Hey there! I bet you guys were starting to think I'd forgotten about you again. Have no fear! I'm still here. Big things have been brewing on the career front that have been taking up a lot of my time. I'm really excited about it, so my energies have been focused there. As a result, this slower updating schedule is likely to continue, but I'll still be around. Here's the latest chapter of FA. Enjoy!

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack. Mitchum watched the stainless-steel spheres of his Newton's Cradle swing back and forth. The stupid contraption had been sitting on his desk for as long as he could remember, but he couldn't recall a single time he had ever actually engaged with it before. Until today that was. Today he had been staring at the stupid toy for at least 20 minutes.

He wasn't sure how he had let things progress this far. He had let this thing with Rory get so far out of his control. Mitchum was not a man who let things get out of control. Every aspect of his life was meticulously crafted and calculated. He liked order and predictability. And now everything was spinning out from under him.

He had called Rory four times after she had stormed out of the apartment the previous night, and she had ignored them all. He had texted her twice already today and he hated text; it was a lazy form of communication. Still, she didn't reply. And he had wasted an entire morning thinking about her—getting absolutely no work accomplished.

Rory Gilmore was trouble. If his insane actions from the night before weren't proof of that, nothing was. He should just forget about her. Their relationship was never meant to be a long-term affair. He was never meant to fall in love. He had enjoyed the pursuit at first. He figured once she gave in—which he never had any doubt she would—they would spend a few months together at most before he got bored and moved on. That was almost a year and a half ago. So why couldn't he move on? Why was he finding himself more infatuated with her than a teenage boy with the head cheerleader?

He knew he should let this be the end of them—for his sake, and for hers. But he just couldn't let that happen.

Despite his better judgement, he found himself jabbing his finger into the intercom button on his phone. "Mathew," he paged. "Get Gilmore in here. I need to talk to her about her latest article."

"Aye-aye, boss," his assistant replied.

Mitchum waited anxiously, tapping his pen against his desk. After a few minutes he heard a knock on the door. "Come in," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. The door opened, but Mitchum kept his eyes trained on his computer screen.

"You wanted to see me?" Rory said coldly as she entered the room.

He finally looked up. The anger and disappointment in her eyes cut. He hated feeling this way—this…vulnerable. He hated that he'd hurt her, and he hated that it bothered him so much.

"Pooh," he started, standing up from the desk. "I am so sorry about last night."

"No, Mitch," she cut him off, holding a hand up to stop his approach. "You don't get to do this. You can't use your position as my boss to get me to talk to you before I'm ready."

"You weren't answering my calls," he defended. "I even resorted to text. What else was I supposed to do?"

"You were supposed to wait."

"I've never been very good at that," he admitted, taking a tentative step towards her.

"Well that's too damned bad. Not everything in this world works on Mitchum time. You can't get everything you want, when you want it."

"I know, Pooh," he agreed, looking contrite. "I just can't stand the thought of you being mad at me."

"Well then, maybe you shouldn't have thrown a glass at my head," she hissed.

"I didn't!" he insisted adamantly. "I shouldn't have thrown it at all, I know that. But I wasn't aiming for you."

Rory gave him a dubious glare. "I felt it wooshing by, not more than a couple feet from my face. The wine splashed all over me."

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "But I swear, I would never do anything to hurt you like that. I was just so frustrated. Things haven't been the same lately. You're slipping away from me and I don't know what to do about it," he admitted in a rare moment of vulnerability.

Rory sighed, feeling herself soften in response to the apprehensive look in his eyes. "I love you Mitch, but you're always working and traveling…"

"I run a company, I can't just …"

"I know. And I'm not asking you to. I love your drive and how much this company means to you. But I also can't spend all my time sitting around waiting for you. I deserve to have a life outside of us too."

"Of course you do," he agreed through gritted teeth. "But you understand how complicated my relationship with my son is…"

"I know, but Logan and his friends have been nothing but kind to me. And me getting along with your family could be a good thing."

"I don't know about that," Mitchum replied with a derisive laugh, but said no more on the matter. Rory was starting to come back around, and he knew pushing this right now would only backfire on him. He would let her think he was okay with it for now. Once they were back on solid footing he could deal with this insane friendship she was cultivating with his son.

"The both of you are so stubborn," Rory huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You love my stubbornness."

Rory rolled her eyes in response, and he saw a small smile pull at the corner of her lips even though she held it back.

Mitchum went back to his desk and sat down. "So, are we okay?" he asked, getting himself situated. He needed to get this fight over with and move on. He had a whole morning of work to catch up on.

Rory sighed. "I don't know."

"Oh come on, Pooh," he said, looking up at her. "I said I'm sorry."

"This is bigger than 'I'm sorry.'"

"Well at least come to dinner tonight, let me make it up to you?" he asked.

Rory bit her lip anxiously. "Fine," she agreed. "Dinner."

Mitchum smiled triumphantly. "I'll see you tonight, Pooh," he replied, already starting back in on his pile of paperwork.

Rory stood, nervously fidgeting, outside the door of Mitchum's penthouse apartment. It was Mitchum, she loved him, she shouldn't be scared to be alone with him. But the man she'd been with last night was not the man she'd fallen for. It was a side of him she'd never seen before. Was it some weird fluke, or was this person inside of him the whole time, only now making his presence known?

She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. She owed him this chance. It was partly her fault after all. She had lied and cheated. She had hid things from him. He had a right to be mad, and he didn't even know the half of it.

Mitchum opened the door with a big smile. He greeted her with a chaste kiss before opening the door and ushering her into the apartment.

She stopped a few steps into the entry way. The entire room was decorated in rose petals, twinkly lights and candles. The table was set with beautiful linens and fancy china. But instead of some gourmet meal, the plates had pizza on them. Over in the living room area, the coffee table was loaded with Red Vines, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and Marshmallows. She noticed a DVD case sitting out on the entertainment unit— The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Rory felt her reservations melting. Mitchum hated pizza. He found it too "plebian." He'd actually said those words before. And when he got started in on her candy addiction, he could go all night. But here he was—doing all of this for her. He really was sorry for the way he'd acted and was trying to make it up to her.

With a smile she made her way all the way into the apartment, letting, Mitchum pull out a seat at the table for her, and sat.

A few hours later, they were curled up on the couch, watching The Transylvanian's Castle lift off from Earth. "That is the most disturbing thing I've ever seen in my life," Mitchum admitted as the credit's rolled.

"Disturbingly awesome."

Mitchum chuckled, placing a kiss on her temple as she snuggled into his side. "You confuse me, Pooh."

"Nothing confuses you. You have an IQ of, like, 170."

"You confuse me."

"How so?" she asked, looking up at him from her spot resting on his chest.

"Well, for starters, one minute you seem so sweet and innocent, and the next you're gushing over a movie about cross dressing, cannibal, aliens."

"I'm not that innocent," she replied in a sultry voice, running her hand up his chest.

"Oh, I know you're not. But you are sweet. You see the best in people." A pause. He spoke the next part tentatively. "Even when they don't deserve it."

"Mitchum…" Rory warned, taking her hand away from his chest and sitting up. She knew where this was going. She should have known he wouldn't let it go that easily.

"You don't know him like I do," Mitchum cautioned. "He wants something from you."

"I don't think you know Logan as well as you think you do. I know things are complicated between you two, but you raised a good man. I just wish you could see that—for his sake and for yours."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"I can take care of myself. I'm a big girl, you know."

"I know you can. But I'm a man stuck in his ways," Mitchum replied sentimentally. "I was raised to be a gentleman and to take care of my woman—even if she doesn't need it."

Rory rolled her eyes a little at the old-fashioned show of male machismo. She'd had the benign sexism talk with Mitchum before, many times, but he still didn't get it. "I know your intentions are good, but I can't go back to the way things were before. I wasn't happy, Mitch. I was so lonely."

"I'm not asking you to cloister yourself like a nun," his eyes narrowed with a glint. "That's no fun for either of us."

"It's not that easy to make friends, you know. It's not like back in school; people were just sort of there."

"So join a book club, or volunteer. You don't need to hang out with my son and his degenerate friends."

Rory glared at him. She could understand his reluctance for her to hang out with them—it was clearly awkward; but that didn't give him the right to put them down.

"Just think about this from my perspective, Pooh" Mitchum sighed.

"I get that it's weird for you, I do. But that's no reason to vilify them."

"You're right." Mitchum ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe my biases are at play here. I'm sure they have their attributes. But that doesn't change how I feel about this. It makes me uncomfortable. Shouldn't that be enough?"

"What about how I feel?"

"You feel like they're your friends?"

"Yes," Rory nodded. Mitchum seemed to contemplate this for a moment. Perhaps she was getting through to him.

"Even though you're lying to them?" He finally replied.

Rory froze, her eyes wide for a moment as the reality of the situation hit her full force. "That's not…it's…I…" she stuttered, trying to find the right words to defend herself.

"I'm just concerned is all. The truth seems a little…malleable with you lately. You lied to me about them, you're lying to them about me…"

"I'm keeping this a secret for you," she replied in outrage. She'd wanted to bring their relationship into the open for a while now. He was the one that wanted to keep it quiet. For him to throw that in her face now…

"I'm keeping this a secret for you," Mitchum countered. He paused for a moment, seeming to contemplate his next words. "I really shouldn't tell you this yet, but...you're being considered for a promotion."

"What?" Rory's eyes went wide with excitement, temporarily forgetting about the current conversation.

Mitchum smiled proudly. "Assistant editor," he confirmed. "You'd be the youngest in The Voice's history."

"Really? I can't believe this. It's…it's…"

"It's amazing," he finished for her. "But what do you think would happen to this opportunity if people knew about us? People would think you didn't deserve it and that you'd just slept your way to the top. Or you'd be disqualified to prevent such a narrative."

Rory's smile dropped. The excitement suddenly sapped from her. He was right. Coming out now would ruin this opportunity for her.

"And, not to beat a dead horse, but I'm not the only one that's noticed you and Logan spending a lot of time together. If people make the wrong conclusions there, it won't be much better for your prospects."

Rory collapsed back onto the couch with a muffled harrumph. Why was life so unfair? Just when things seemed to be looking up, life made her choose—her friends or her career. Why was the universe so determined to make sure she only had one good thing at a time?

Logan took his card back from the cashier and slipped his wallet in his back pocket, making his way into the seating area of the cafeteria. He noticed Rory and Chase sitting at their usual table and headed their way. As usual, he only had ten minutes to eat, but these ten minutes were the ones he most looked forward to in his day.

"Hidey-ho neighbors," he greeted with a smile, setting his tray down.

Rory shifted uncomfortably, angling her body away from him. Logan's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What'd I miss," he asked nonchalantly, trying not to read too much into her body language.

"We were just talking about goat yoga," Chase informed him oblivious to the unexplained tension.

"Goat yoga?" Logan repeated. Had he heard that correctly? Images of goats doing sun salutations filled his head.

"You go to a farm and do yoga while surrounded by goats," Rory replied flatly.

"Are the goats doing yoga too?" He cocked his head to the side curiously.

Rory shot him an annoyed glare. "Of course not, they're goats."

"Okay," Logan conceded. "I was just asking."

Rory looked down at her watch. "I have to go to the bathroom before I get back to work," she announced, refusing to look at Logan. She gathered up the trash on her cafeteria tray and stood up. "I'll see you later."

Logan watched in confusion as Rory walked away from the table. He turned back to Chase. "What'd I do?"

Chase just shrugged. Logan stood up and went after her. "Rory, wait!" She didn't slow down or acknowledge him at all. He jogged a few steps to close the gap. "Wait up." He reached out to touch her arm and she spun around angrily.

"Don't do that," she hissed.

"Do what?" he asked, hurt and confusion marring his normally jovial face.

"Call out my name, chase me across the cafeteria…touch me."

"Ooooookay," he replied cautiously, holding his hands up in front of him. "Did I do something to upset you?"

"I just…I can't do this anymore, Logan." She told him, the anger in her face and tone were gone and instead she just looked confused and anxious. Alarm bells were going off in Logan's head.

"Do what?" he asked.

"Us," she replied softly, staring at her shoes and shifting uncomfortably. "Being friends."

"Hold up a second!" he replied insistently. "It was barely a week ago that you were practically commanding me to be your friend. What happened to not just writing people off because it's inconvenient."

"It's more complicated than that," she whispered.

"And why is that?"

"It just is," she insisted fidgeting anxiously.

"Because of him?" Logan asked, standing stiffly. He wasn't sure if he was more hurt, angry, or worried.

"No!" she replied a little too insistently, her eyes snapping up to meet his.

"Rory?" he asked with a dubious glare, crossing his arms over his chest.

"This has nothing to do with him," she snapped defensively.

"So your secret boyfriend is totally fine with us hanging out, but you've decided we can't hang out for an entirely different reason you can't tell me about?"

"Look, is he happy with the amount of time I've been spending with you and the others lately? No. But he doesn't control me."

Logan thought back to his conversation with Stephanie that first night she'd met Rory; the one about controlling relationships. "Are you sure about that?"

"Excuse me?" she hissed.

"Does he hit you?" He asked without missing a beat.

"Oh my god!" Rory threw her hands up in exasperation. "What the hell gives you the right to make those kinds of accusations?"

"You can stand here and tell me all you want that we can't be friends anymore, but I don't accept that," Logan replied evenly. "And as your friend, I get to be worried when there are signs that you're in an abusive relationship."

"You're delusional," Rory spat turning away.

"The signs are there," he said to her retreating back. She stopped walking. "—the lying, the secrets, the sneaking around, the lack of outside relationships, the sudden need to end our relationship…and I didn't hear you deny it."

She spun around again to look him in the eye, holding her gaze steady. "He has never laid a hand on me."

"That doesn't mean he's not abusive. Controlling who you see…"

"He is not controlling who I see. My decision to not hang out with you any more is my decision. This is my career Logan. I can't be seen having a personal relationship with my boss. People talk. People make assumptions. And those assumptions, true or not, could have serious consequences for my future."

"And you just came to this conclusion all on your own, now, after months of friendship?"

"Why I decided this now is none of your business."

"When you walk out on a friend, it's absolutely their business."

"Well then it's a good thing we're not friends anymore," she replied coldly.

Logan shook his head dismissively. "You can't get rid of me that easily, Rory. Walk away if you want, but don't think that it's the end of this." It wasn't the end. Not by a long shot. Rory was in trouble whether she knew it or not. Logan could feel it in his bones, and he was going to make damn sure she realized it sooner rather than later.