The air was crisp and clean as the snow fell around them like powdered sugar being sprinkled over a Gingerbread house.

"This is wrong," Lorelai moaned as she walked up the path.

"What is?" Luke asked.

"It's the snow," Rory whispered to him.

"Yes!" Lorelai insisted, motioning around them. "Snow. My beloved first snow of the season happening now, as we prepare to enter my parent's house," she made a disgusted face.

"On the other hand, it's a white Christmas. And also, at least we're together for it," Rory reminded her mother.

Lorelai sighed as they approached the front door. "True," she admitted. "But I still think we shouldn't have to go to this stupid party. The snow is a sign."

"A sign of what?" Luke asked.

"A sign that we should be home drinking hot cocoa and watching Elf," Lorelai informed her boyfriend.

"Well, if you wanted to turn around and go home, I wouldn't object."

"Stop it." Rory insisted. "It's Christmas. Grandma and Grandpa are our family. We are going in." She turned to her mother. "And if you need a little motivation, just think of the apple tarts."

Lorelai got a dreamy look on her face. "Mmmmm, apple tarts."

"So, it's settled," Rory acknowledged ringing the doorbell. "Now put on your smile and try and be nice."

"Oh apple tart, oh apple tart…" Lorelai started to sing. Rory chuckled, but they both shut up as the maid opened the door and greeted them. They gave her their coats and the trio made their way into the house. Lorelai immediately veered right, heading for the bar and pulling Luke with her.

Rory shook her head, smiling at her mother's antics, and meandered along into the house, searching for her grandparents.

"Rory!" she heard the excited voice of her Grandmother call out. Rory turned to see her Grandmother headed her way. "Oh, Rory, it's so good to see you. Come in, come in." Emily Gilmore put a hand on her back and started guiding her further into the house.

Rory and Emily approached Richard Gilmore who was having a conversation with two other men she didn't know. Rory grabbed a glass of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter as she approached, wanting something to hold in her hands to aid with the discomfort of having a conversation with a couple of strangers. Meeting new people was always awkward for her, but as a reporter she had learned to push through. One thing she had realized was that she tended to fidget and holding something helped to prevent that.

"Richard, look who's here."

"Rory," Richard beamed. "Gentleman," he looked at his companions, "this is my granddaughter, Rory. She's a journalist at The Village Voice, in Manhattan. Rory, this is Herman Renquest and George Millbertson."

"It's nice to meet you," Rory replied with a smile.

"A journalist, ey?" The man with the porn star mustache—George?—asked. "That's quite impressive for a young lady such as yourself."

"And a mighty fine one at that," a familiar voice chimed in. Rory's eyes immediately went wide, her chest feeling tight. What was he doing here?

She gritted her teeth and turned to the newcomer. "Mr. Huntzberger," she greeted with a forced smile.

"Rory here is a rising star at the paper," he clapped her on the back. "Only six months out of her internship and she's already being considered for a promotion."

"A promotion?" Richard asked, eyes wide with awe. "Well, Rory, you never told us that!"

"Indeed," Emily put in. "That's amazing news."

Rory didn't have any clue how to respond to this. She wasn't even supposed to know about the promotion and here Mitchum was, broadcasting it. At her Grandparents party. Where he wasn't even supposed to be.

She shot him a quick look, trying to figure out up from down. He was smiling, and anyone who didn't know better would fall for it hook, line, and sinker. But she wasn't anyone. He was looking at her, one eyebrow raised slightly higher than the other. There was just a hint of challenge in it.

Rory took a large swig of her champagne and turned her attention back to her grandparents. "I didn't want to jinx it," she said sweetly.

"Oh nonsense," Emily poo-pooed. "That's nothing but a silly superstition."

"Well, we journalists are a superstitious bunch," Mitchum acknowledged. "Back in my day I had to write all my articles on this old typewriter my father gave me. It was missing the 'e' key, so you can imagine how that went. But any other typewriter and I just knew the article would be a flop. And Jane Meyer won't conduct interviews on Tuesday afternoons because she's convinced if she does, she'll wind up getting scooped—but don't tell Jane I told you that."

Rory stood, silently fuming as the men continued to talk over and around her. Mitchum kept shooting sly smiles that she knew were meant to be flirty. Her grip on her crystal flute tightened dangerously. It was far from a coincidence that he had shown up. She knew he hadn't been planning on attending a week ago. And he had to guess that going home to see her mother would result in her at least making an appearance at her Grandparent's Christmas party.

She knew he was pissed about her changing her holiday plans. Sure, they had, for all intents and purposes, made up after they'd fought about it. But they'd only spoken on the phone a couple of times while he was in Denver and the calls had been terse and uncomfortable. But she'd told him what she needed—she had figured he'd at least respect that, even if he didn't like it. But it looked like she was wrong.

"It was nice talking to you," Rory finally said keeping her voice as polite as possible, "But if you'll excuse me, I need to go find my mother." She slipped away but she felt Mitchum's eyes on her back her entire way out of the room.

He took a sip of his scotch as the group around him argued politics. Mitchum wasn't exactly thrilled by an Obama victory, but his current companions were being a bit dramatic for his tastes. The whole "Obama is a socialist" spiel was absurd. And Mitchum had more than enough offshore havens set up to be worried about any tax hikes. He was listening just enough to put in the occasional brilliant insight, but mostly, he was focused on his girlfriend.

They'd been there for a couple of hours already and he hadn't spoken to her since their brief exchange with her grandparents at the start of the party. She'd been flitting around from group to group, charming her grandparent's friends easily. It was amazing how she could go from the shy, demure girl he knew in person to the social butterfly he was currently witnessing. Fortunately, despite her friendliness, nothing seemed to cross the line into flirting. Not that he'd expected it to; the room was filled with nothing but old men. Though to be fair, she'd already proven she had a penchant for such men. Still, most of these partygoers made Mitchum look like he should be carded at the bar.

Every once in a while, he would catch Rory flashing him a cold glance. She was pissed. He'd suspected she would be but so what? She's the one who ditched him at the last minute. If she thought she could get away with that, she had another thing coming.

Mitchum drained the last of the Mccallan from his glass and he excused himself to get a refill. Halfway across the room he noticed Rory approaching the bar out of the corner of his eye.

He continued to make his way in the same direction. A few seconds later, Rory appeared beside him, failing to acknowledge his presence at all. "Lady's first," he said with a subdued smirk, gesturing towards the server. She nodded. "Thank you," she mumbled insincerely, then ordered a glass of Chardonnay.

When the drink arrived, she turned to make her exit but stumbled, not-so-accidently spilling the wine all over his jacket. "Oh, Mr. Huntzberger," she demurred with false innocence. "I'm so sorry. Your jacket."

He didn't say a word, just stared at her with barely concealed amusement. He'd been waiting for this all night. "I am such a klutz," she continue on. She turned to the bartender. "Could we get some club soda, please."

"Sure thing, Miss." He pulled out a glass, emptying the contents of a bottle of Perrier into it.

"Here," Rory said, picking up the glass. "Let me show you to the bathroom and help you clean that up." She shot him a no-nonsense glare that told him he better follow—or else. Not that he had any plans not to.

She led him out of the main room down a hallway. She looked covertly around before opening a door and practically shoving him in. It wasn't a bathroom—it appeared to be Richard Gilmore's office. Above the desk was an enormous oil painting of Rory reading a book.

"Nice portrait," he said stoically. She glared angrily.

"What the hell are you doing here, Mitchum?" She'd called him by his full name. She might have been a little angrier than he had anticipated. No worries though, he'd get it all straightened out.

"Well, my Christmas plans got cancelled last minute," he shrugged innocently, "and Richard and Emily were kind enough to let me change my RSVP."

"This isn't funny. I'm not a child, I don't need a chaperone."

"Oh, I know you're not a child," he replied suggestively. She was very, very adult when she wanted to be.

"Don't be cute," she scolded, slamming the glass of club soda down on the desk. "This crosses so many boundaries it's not even funny."

"What can I say?" he shrugged, "I missed you, Pooh." Her pet name always seemed to soften her up.

"Bull shit." Except, apparently, now.

"Excuse me?" She never cursed. That kind of language was unacceptable from any lady, let alone one he was dating.

"You're not here because you miss me, you were checking up on me."

"That's ridiculous," he denied. Being able to keep an eye on her and make sure she didn't drink too much—or talk too much—was just a happy bonus.

"The promotion?" she asked pointedly.

"What about it? Your grandparents were proud."

"I'm not even supposed to know. The shortlist hasn't been announced yet. Then again, I wouldn't be surprised if it never was."

Crap! Luckily he was prepared for this. Rory was naïve, but she wasn't an idiot. He knew he couldn't string this promotion deal out forever. "Are you accusing me of lying?" he asked.

Rory gave a derisive shrug. "It's funny how it's been over a month and none of the assistant editors have stepped down."

"Jennings is looking to restructure the department," he informed her. "There have been a few snags is all."

Rory scoffed. "Snags?" she repeated with a shake of her head. "Right—and just how long were you planning to string these 'snags'" she made air quotes with her fingers, "out before you told me that the 'restructuring' was nixed along with the job position."

"Stop being paranoid." Mitchum tried to keep calm. This was not going at all like he wanted. Rory had always been—fiery. It's one of the traits he liked about her; the quick-wit and tough comebacks. She kept him on his toes. She was a challenge. But Mitchum Huntzberger always came out on top of a challenge. Always. Even with her. He had no reason to believe this time would be different.

"No, I'm just not being the gullible mark you're used to. I can't believe I fell for it for this long."

"You're getting hysterical. Why would I even lie about this, Pooh?" he asked. "What motivation could I possibly have?"

"Oh please," she scoffed. "I saw that look you gave me out there," she pointed back towards the party. "That was the 'keep your mouth shut about us if you want to even think about making assistant editor' look."

"Really, Rory, I appreciate that you're upset about me being here," his heart was beating faster, and his palms were starting to sweat. He tried to suppress the rage building within him. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he wasn't coming out on top of this mess. What if he was losing her? Mitchum Huntzberger didn't lose. He needed to do something…and quick, "but you need to calm down and stop spinning wild stories in your head."

Rory's shoulders suddenly relaxed and she rocked back on her heals. It was true that a certain calmness seemed to come over her, but it wasn't a good one. He felt a chill run through his body. "Wild stories?" she asked.

"That came out wrong…"

"No, no, that's okay" she waved it off. "You're right. I'm being ridiculous. Spinning wild stories. You didn't lie to me about a promotion just to keep me quiet about our relationship..."

She was saying exactly what he wanted her to say but he wasn't stupid enough to believe he was suddenly getting his way. Of course, what choice did he have but to go with it? "Of course not," he assured her.

"Right," she nodded her head. "Well, then," she started to turn towards the door. "You won't mind if I go out there and tell my family about us."

Mitchum let his shoulders relax. It was a bluff. "Don't be ridiculous, you're not going to out us in the middle of your Grandparent's Christmas party."

"I told my friend, Lane," she admitted, still facing the door.

"Excuse me?" Who else did she tell? He couldn't believe her audacity. She knew how he felt about going public.

She turned back from the door to face him. "And you're right—I have no desire to ruin this party. Which is why I haven't said anything to my Mom."

"Good. Listen, Pooh, I know it's been hard for you to keep it from her but it's for the best. She'd tell Richard and Emily and then…"

"Yet." Rory finished.

"What?"

"I haven't told her yet. But I'm going to."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am. When I get home tonight." Her voice was steady, and sure. This wasn't a bluff.

"Don't you dare." His jaw twitched with rage.

"Oh, well, when you put it that way," she rolled her eyes.

"I swear to God, Rory," he replied, his voice low and menacing, "if you tell her…"

"'If I tell her' what?" she asked. "You'll break up with me?"

"This could cost me my career." He was seething. This could ruin everything. She could cost him everything he ever worked for. He wasn't going to let that happen.

"Well, I wouldn't want to cost you your one true love."

"Bitch," he hissed. His fist clenched at his side.

"Fuck you, Mitchum." Before his mind could register it, his arm was moving and he heard the stinging sound of his palm across her face. She stumbled backwards, hand to her cheek, her eyes wide with shock. He suspected his face looked equally surprised.

"Pooh," he murmured, taking a step towards her, his anger suddenly sapped.

She held her hand out in front of her protectively. "Don't. Touch. Me."

"Pooh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Get out!" she breathed; her voice full of ice.

"I swear. I just…"

"Get out," she repeated, pointing at the office door. "Get out of my sight, get out of my Grandparent's house."

His teeth grinded together, his jaw clenching. Everything in him told him to stay and fight. He didn't walk away from things. It wasn't in his nature. But he knew he'd crossed a line, even for him. And he couldn't risk losing control again. So, with a deep breath, he stepped towards the exit.

"We'll talk when we've both calmed down," he said. She didn't answer, just stood there, arms crossed protectively over her chest, and watched him leave.

"Lorelai, good, you're still here." Lorelai swallowed the mouthful of martini she had just taken.

"Of course I'm still here, Mom. You haven't served the apple tarts yet." Lorelai looked at her mother like she was crazy. If she was subjecting herself to this torture, there were going to be apple tarts.

"I can't find Rory. She didn't leave, did she?"

"Not unless she flew home in her invisible jet."

"Well, where is she? I wanted to introduce her to our friends Penelope and Bruce Highwater. They have a son around her age in the city and the city can be such a lonely place; you can never have too many friends."

Lorelai repressed her scoff. Emily wanted Rory and this Highwater kid to be 'friends' about as much as she wanted to fly coach to Europe this year. Although, come to think of it, Lorelai also hadn't seen Rory in a while. It wasn't like her daughter to hide from her grandparents at these kinds of shindigs—that was her role.

"Umm," Lorelai hesitated, "I'll go find her."

"When you do, let her know I'm looking for her."

"Will do, Mom." She rolled her eyes. Emily walked away and Lorelai turned to Luke. "Have you seen Rory?"

He shook his head. "Not in a while. Although every minute at your parent's house feels like an hour so it's hard to say."

"I've got to go find her. Can you survive the wolves on your own?"

Luke shrugged. "Do I have a choice?"

"No."

"Alright then."

Lorelai decided to check upstairs first. She headed up and peeked into the bedrooms, but they were all empty. She was starting to get worried; this wasn't like her offspring at all. She made her way back downstairs, continuing to check a bunch of rooms that had no names before finally coming to her father's office.

She pushed the door open and there was Rory, sitting on the floor in the corner, hugging her knees to her chest, tear streaks down her face.

"Rory…" she rushed into the room, shutting the door behind her. "Rory what happened? Are you okay?"

Rory looked up at her. "I think it's over," she gulped.

"What's over?" Lorelai took a seat next to her daughter, pulling her in tight.

"Mitchum and me," she admitted.

"Mitchum? Huntzberger?" she asked. Richard had introduced her to him earlier. It had been one of the less tedious conversations she'd suffered through that night since she'd gotten to hear a little about Rory's work over the last year. "Is this about your job? Did something happen?" She wasn't sure what it could be. Rory's boss had seemed to be a fan of her work.

Rory sniffled into her mother's chest. "I'm so sorry, Mommy."

"Sorry about what?" Lorelai stroked her daughter's hair.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"What didn't you tell me, Kid? You're not making a lot of sense."

"Mitchum and I…" Rory gulped down a sob. "I've…I've been seeing him."

Lorelai's whole body tensed. She silently prayed that colloquialism had a different meaning than the one she was thinking of.

Rory sat up and finally looked at her mother. "Since September…of last year."

The words wouldn't come. Over a year. Her smart, successful, talented daughter had been sleeping with her boss for over a year and lying to her about it. It explained a lot. Like why she'd grown so distant.

She was silent for a few seconds longer before pushing herself off the wall. "I'll kill him…" She moved to stand up but Rory grabbed her hand and stopped her.

"Mom, no."

"Rory, are you insane? He's your superior, this is sexual harassment. Also, he's totally old. He's friends with your grandparents for god's sake."

The younger Gilmore's eyes went wide. "You can't tell them!"

Lorelai sighed and collapsed back against the wall. As much as she wanted to go all Momma Bear at that moment, Rory was an adult having an adult relationship. She cringed at the thought of just how adult the other member of the relationship was. But the point was, Rory didn't need a protective mother at that moment, she needed a friend. And even when Rory was a kid, they'd always been friends first, mother and daughter second.

"What happened?" she asked, pushing a piece of hair that was stuck to Rory's face, behind her ear.

"We fought." Rory stated the obvious. "We were supposed to spend Christmas together but I just really needed to see you. He wasn't happy about it but in the end, he conceded—or so I thought," her daughter explained to her. "Then he showed up here unannounced. I was pissed."

"Well, that's understandable. He didn't respect your space."

"I just…I've been so tired of hiding this big, ginormous secret. I was going to tell you after the party tonight."

"I'm guessing he didn't like that idea?" Lorelai cringed.

"You have to understand…what do you think would happen if people found out?"

"Well, I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess HR wouldn't be too happy about it."

"Probably not."

"So what? He gave you an ultimatum?"

"No…Yes…Maybe…" Rory sagged helplessly. "I don't know. Maybe I gave one to him? Whatever, it…" Rory wrapped her arms around herself and looked down. "It didn't end well. And I don't even know if we're together or not anymore."

"Well maybe you shouldn't be." She was glad her daughter finally confided in her, but there was clearly more to the story than she'd confessed. Lorelai had a very bad feeling about this Mitchum. What kind of man had a secret affair with his much younger employee? Not the good kind.

She shook her head. "Maybe. But…"

"No 'buts,' Rory. This relationship sounds like bad news all around."

"It's not that easy. We've been together for a really long time." Lorelai gritted her teeth at the thought. "And what happens if we break up? Do I just go into the office next week like nothing happened?"

"Damn right you do. If that asshole even thinks of firing you for breaking up with him the number of zeros on the sexual harassment claim we'll file will…."

"No!" Rory said adamantly. "No way."

"What do you mean, 'no way'? He can't get away with this."

"Do you have any idea what that would do to my career? I'd be blacklisted everywhere. No Paper would touch me."

Lorelai sighed. She was right. It was crazy and unfair, and wrong on every level, but the women in cases like these always suffered more than the men. As talented a writer as Rory was, this could end her career before it even began.

"Listen, we don't have to figure it all out tonight," Lorelai assured her. "What do you say we stuff some apple tarts in our purses and sneak out early. We'll tell Mom you're sick."

A stray tear escaped Rory's eye and she wiped it away pathetically. "We can wallow?"

"With apple tarts." Lorelai nodded. "And vanilla ice cream."

"And we can watch The Santa Clause?"

Lorelai groaned. She hated those movies. "Alright," she relented.

"All three?" Rory added.

"I'm sorry, Kid, I know this is your wallow, but I draw the line at The Santa Clause One and Two."

"Mean," Rory grumbled, standing up and trying to straighten herself out.

Lorelai stood up too, pulling her daughter into her for a hug. "I'm glad you told me," she assured her daughter. As messed up as this whole situation was, they would figure it out.

Rory hugged her mother back. "I'm glad I told you too."

AN: So, are we having fun yet, kids? Cause things are only going to get better from here. And by "better" I mean worse—at least from the character's points of view. Is this FINALLY the end for Rory and Mitchum? It seems like it, but you know Mitchum won't go out without a fight. Will Rory tell anyone he HIT her? What sinister scheme might he be cooking up to get back in his "Pooh's" good graces after that? Will Rory fall for it? If Rory really does call it off, will she have a job to go back to? And what does she tell Logan? Get ready for a bumpy ride these next few chapters. Also, it might be a while before an RLH update because I'm super excited about this right now.