The streets of Brookville were quiet, and cozy. Large oak trees lined the pavement, creating a canopy above, filtering out the late afternoon sun. Being winter, the trees were bare, allowing him to catch glimpses of the sprawling mansions that sat beyond. After a couple of minutes he reached his destination, pulling in the semi-hidden driveway and up to a gate. He opened his glove compartment and pulled out a small, white, rectangle, flashing the device in front of a monitor. The gate swung open and Logan let up off the breaks, heading down the long, circular drive until he pulled up in front of a large, brick, colonial estate.

He sat in the car for a few minutes, staring up at the house, trying to get the courage to go up to the door. The occupant of the house wasn't expecting him. Hell, he didn't even know if anyone would be home. He should have called first, but he knew his sudden desire to visit without guise of holiday or birthday would set off a flurry of questions. And this wasn't a phone conversation.

He finally pushed open the car door and swung his legs out of the vehicle. He might as well get to it—this was only the first of the difficult conversations that lay ahead of him. He made his way up to the front door and pressed the bell. He could hear the deep, melodious chimes from within, followed in rapid succession by the barking of dogs. Through the glass doors, Logan watched two tall, tan and black terriers with bushy beards and mustaches come barreling into the foyer. A minute later, a very pregnant blonde woman came waddling behind.

"Sherlock. Watson," she scolded. "Will you shut up already?" She looked up, catching Logan's eye and he saw her entire face brighten up. She scurried the rest of the way to the front door, moving as quick as her enormous abdomen would permit, and threw the door open. "Logan?" she squealed. "Oh my god, what are you doing here? Did I know you were coming? I mean, I know this little parasite," she placed her hands on her swollen belly, "has been sucking up all the nutrients that used to fuel my brain cells, but I feel like I would remember you telling me you were coming over on a day when the banks are open."

Logan gently pushed the Airedales that were currently jumping all over him, back to the floor. "What can I say, Honor," he smiled warily. "Surprise."

"Ugh, get in here you loser," she said affectionately, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the house. He followed behind her as she shuffled along through the foyer and the formal living room towards the family room in the back. "Sit!" she commanded. "What can I get you to drink?" she started to turn towards the kitchen.

"Woah, woah, woah," Logan replied. "You sit. Don't you have a maid or something to do that for you?"

"Pft," Honor waved dismissively, "I fired her."

Logan rolled his eyes. "What? Why?"

"I couldn't stand her hovering. I swear, I think Josh planted a Lojack on me somewhere and gave the maid the tracker."

"Josh did not plant a Lojack on you," Logan laughed.

"How do you know? There are parts of my body I have not been able to visually inspect for a month now. It could be anywhere."

"God you're dramatic," Logan sighed. "You sit!" he pointed at the sofa, "and I'll go get the drinks." He turned and headed towards the kitchen.

"I prefer to think of myself as delightfully animated," Honor shouted after him. "And don't put any ice in my iced tea. Baby doesn't like things too cold!"

Logan pulled open the stainless-steel front of the extra wide, French door refrigerator, and took a carafe of iced tea off the top shelf, pouring two glasses before heading back into the family room. Honor was reclining on the couch, her swollen feet propped up on an ottoman. Sherlock and Watson were lying next to her with Watson's big, rectangular head resting protectively on her baby bump.

It was still a strange site—Honor with dogs. Dogs were verboten in Huntzberger households, both before and after the divorce. But Josh's family were British, and apparently very into duck hunting. They'd had show quality Airedales for generations. Of course, his timid brother-in-law wouldn't be caught dead holding a rifle, but just because Josh hadn't inherited the family love of shooting poor, defenseless birds, didn't mean he didn't inherit their love of the creatures whose job it was to retrieve said birds after they'd fallen from the sky. At first Honor had put up a fuss, calling the creatures filthy and noisy, but clearly, she'd gotten over it.

Logan handed his sister her glass of iced tea. "So, I guess not all hovering is unwelcome?" he nodded at the dogs.

"They get a pass because they clean up all the crumbs I drop. Especially since I can no longer bend down to clean them up myself."

"Didn't the maid also clean up your crumbs?" Logan laughed as he took a seat in a comfy chair caddy corner to the sofa Honor was resting on.

"Yes, but she could also tell Josh about said crumbs, thus alerting him to the fact that I'm eating too much sugar which would lead to him lecturing me about the dangers of gestational diabetes."

"You have gestational diabetes?" Logan asked with alarm.

"No!" Honor scoffed, "But according to Josh if I don't cut back on the cookies, I'm going to get it. Of course, then I remind him that if I do cut back on the cookies, he might get diabetes when I stab him in the pancreas."

Logan laughed. "At least he cares."

Honor huffed. "So," she said, changing gears, "to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit. Did my dear caring husband send you to check up on me?"

Logan got uncomfortably quiet; he could hear his heart pounding in his chest.

"Logan?" Honor had propped her top half up as much as possible and was looking at him with a worried pout. "Is everything alright?"

He looked out the back window, taking a sip of his tea. "I quit."

He wasn't looking at Honor, but he could imagine the wide-eyed look of shock on her face as she blinked in disbelief.

"You what?" she asked breathily.

"I quit," he repeated. "Quit the Voice. Quit Huntzberger Publishing Group. I gave up my shares and my stock options and my company owned apartment and I told Dad where he can shove it."

"But…but…why?"

Logan turned to look at his sister. "I'm sorry, have you met our father?"

Honor shrugged. "I think, once or twice. He's that guy that showed up to our Yale commencements—right?"

Logan's eyes narrowed in annoyance at her attempts to lighten the mood. She grimaced uncomfortably at the look on his face. Or maybe that was just her natural expression in her eighth month of pregnancy. Logan slumped back in his seat, his eyes trained on the bump that was his little niece or nephew. Honor and Josh had opted not to find out the sex. Logan wondered. Would it be a little boy? Brought into a world where being rich, and white, and a man made you somehow better than others in the eyes of society? Would Honor be able to teach him he wasn't better? That he couldn't just take what he wanted—no matter the cost to others? Would it be a little girl? With long blonde hair and piercing brown eyes, and a smile that would make men melt? Would she grow up thinking that was all she had to offer? Would she lose herself just to please a man?

"What happened, Logan?"

Logan took a sip of his iced tea, wishing it was Scotch. "What do you remember?" he asked, all but ignoring her actual question. "About the divorce?"

"What?" Honor's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"The divorce, between Mom and Dad," he clarified unnecessarily.

"Umm, well, it was bad," she shrugged.

Logan sat his iced tea down on a coaster and shifted his weight, turning his whole body to face her. "Yeah, I remember that."

"Well then, umm…what is it you want to know?" Honor was trying to retain her casual look. The one they often used when talking about how screwed up their family was. The one that said Just another day in the Huntzberger Funhouse; I learned to deal with it ages ago. But he could see fear in her eyes.

He should just come out and ask, but he couldn't make the words form. He scrubbed his face with his hands. "I guess, I'm just trying to figure out…why?"

"Why?" Honor scoffed. "Have you met our father?" she repeated his question from earlier.

"Yeah, actually." He looked up, staring straight into her eyes. "Which is why I need to know if you know why."

She looked away, busying herself by scratching Watson's ear. "Umm, well, there was the chronic adultery," she replied cagily.

"Mmmhmm…" He kept his gaze on her.

"And, umm, well…I mean, they could barely stand each other; they were always fighting…"

Sherlock seemed to notice his mistress' suddenly increasing distress. He picked his head up, nuzzling his nose into her side. "I think he needs to go out…" She tried unsuccessfully to stand up.

"Honor." Logan replied warningly, but he stood up himself to walk towards the large glass sliders that exited to the patio, and the yard behind. He slid them open but neither Sherlock nor Watson budged from Honor's side. "I guess not," he shrugged, belaying how not surprised he was.

Honor swallowed uncomfortably. Logan shut the patio door and walked back over to his sister. He looked down at her curiously. "Do you ever worry?" he asked, eyeing her rounded belly.

She put her hands protectively over her stomach. "I worry about a lot of things, I'm about to become a Mom."

"You want to protect them?"

"Of course."

Logan scoffed, turning away. "You say that like it's the most natural thing in the world; a mother wanting to protect her child."

"It is."

"And yet our mother left me with him."

Honor strained, pushing herself fully upright. "What did he do, Logan? Did he…did he…" she choked back a sob.

Logan shook his head contemptuously. "He never laid a hand on me." He said, putting his sister out of her misery. "His abuse of me was much more Machiavellian." She sighed in relief, relaxing back into the sofa cushions.

"I'm so sorry Logan."

Logan sat again, perching himself on the edge of the coffee table facing his sister. "You were 13, Honor. I'm not mad at you for leaving. It wasn't your job to protect me, it was hers."

"It's not that easy. You don't understand," she defended Shira.

"Oh really? Is that what you're gonna tell your kid someday when you up and leave them?"

Deafening silence sliced through the room. He was absolutely horrified by the words that had just come out of his mouth. Honor was going to be an amazing mother. She'd been more of a mother to Logan than their real mother had been. The wounded look that crossed her face made him hate himself even more than he already did. "Oh god, Honor, I'm so sorry."

But as quickly as the look had come, it was replaced by one of concerned consideration. She scooted forward on the couch, attempting to reach for her brother but once again failed to get into the position she desired. "Watson, Sherlock, down," she scooted the dogs away. The terriers stood languidly and hopped off the sofa. "Come here," she commanded Logan, patting the spot next to her.

Logan gave the seat a circumspect look. "Is it so you can get a better angle to strangle me?"

She didn't answer, just maintained eye contact. With a sigh, Logan moved to the sofa, folding one leg underneath him so he could face his sister. "You're going to be a great mother," he told her.

"Logan," she said, looking him straight in the eye. "What happened?"

This time he didn't ignore the question. "There's a woman," he replied with a sigh, scratching the back of his head nervously.

He saw a shadow pass over Honor's face as she swallowed uncomfortably, but then her concerned look was back. "Did you hit her?" she asked, her voice calm and matter of fact.

"What?!" Logan recoiled backwards in shock. "No, of course not! Geez, Honor." That was almost as low a blow as him suggesting she'd abandon her own kid.

"Okay," Honor nodded succinctly. "Good, because if you had, I would have to chop off your hands. But I'm still your sister so I'd help pay for the prosthetics."

"I didn't hit her," he repeated rubbing his face warily. "Dad did."

"Oh." He noted the myriad of emotions that crossed her face. Guilt, relief, confusion… "Sooooo—"

So! So? He tells her their father is beating a woman and all she has to say is so?

"So, I need to know."

"Know what?"

"Whatever it is that I don't understand," he cried out in exasperation, standing back up and starting to pace. "Whatever it is that Mitchum Huntzberger does to a woman's head. Whatever it is that makes it so damn hard for them to stand up to him. Whatever it is that makes them lie and protect him. Whatever it is that makes them cut the people who matter to them out of their lives."

Honor nodded her head sagely at his rant. "You have feelings for her."

"What?"

"This girl. You have feelings for her. And you're torn between loving her, and hating her for choosing him."

God, how did she do that. It was creepy. "Do you know he proposed?"

"What?!" Honor shrieked. Apparently news of a potential step mom was shocking enough to trump the calm, nurturing, motherly thing she'd had going for her. They'd never even known their father to be in a long-term committed relationship with a woman after the divorce. Mitchum Huntzberger was married to his work.

"Last week. He proposed. And she said yes. Less than 24 hours after telling me she was leaving him. Not that I knew who 'him' was. Not until Dad commanded I come over and drop off papers in the midst of their—celebrating."

"Oh God." Honor brought her hand to her mouth in horror.

"Yeah, it was a swell night."

Neither sibling spoke for a while. Logan walked over to the bookcase, idly distracting himself with the titles on the bindings. "She's not going through with it, in case you were wondering. At least that's the latest news. So no need to run out and buy a wedding present—yet."

There was another pause. He continued to gaze blankly at the bookshelves, avoiding his sister's stare. "Senior year at Groton," he finally heard Honor say, "I met this guy. He went to Harvard and worked at the movie theater. It all seemed so exciting—and forbidden. I mean, a Harvard man…on a scholarship…with a part time job? Our parents would plotz."

Logan chuckled a little, despite the tightening feeling in his chest that said he knew where this story was going.

"It was great at first. I fell hard. I fell fast. And he was amazing. He was smart and doting. He made me feel like a princess. And not just because we're distantly related to Emperor Willhem II." She paused, possibly waiting for another reaction, but this time he didn't laugh. She continued on. "And then, about four months in, he wanted me to go to this party with him one night. But it was my friend Jenny's birthday so I told him I couldn't. And he freaked out. It was like he was possessed. He started screaming. He said I was always choosing my friends over him, that I never put him first. He called me a spoiled brat and said I was selfish and materialistic. He accused me of cheating but also said I was lucky he even looked my way and if it weren't for him, no one would ever want me. It was crazy. But it was just one night. One bad night after four months of amazing nights. I figured it was a fluke, maybe he was going through something with school or his family. It wasn't about me. It didn't mean anything."

He finally turned around to look at her. "Honor…"

She held her hand up to stop him. "The next day he was so apologetic. He seemed so sincere. He told me he loved me." Honor shook her head sadly at the memory. "And then things were good again. Until about a month later when it happened again. And then it happened again. And every time he'd say he was sorry. Tell me he didn't mean it. He'd tell me how much he loved me. And somehow, while he was apologizing for his bad behavior, he'd make me feel like it was all my fault. And then I started to notice when we were in public, he'd make these little digs about me—try to humiliate me. But it would be couched in jokes, like it was no big deal. And if I said something, he'd tell me I was being too sensitive. Then, one night in April we were at this party and I was talking to some guy. Some son of a friend of Mom's from some committee she was on. It was nothing, just me being polite. When we left later that evening, he asked me how I knew him. Asked if I was screwing him. He called me a slut and a whore. And then he hit me."

There were tears tracking down her face. Logan clenched his fists, grinding his teeth together angrily. "But the thing is, by then I somehow actually believed I deserved it. Believed that by just talking to this guy, it was the same as flirting. Believed that I was lucky just to be dating a Harvard man. Lucky he forgave me."

"He's lucky I didn't know about him or he'd be buried in a ditch somewhere right now," Logan ground out.

"I don't know this girl, Logan," Honor said, wiping away the moisture on her face. "Maybe she really is some gold-digger willing to let herself be Dad's punching bag for the chance at a fortune. But if you saw something in her, if you cared about her, I have to believe that she's really just a girl who got in over her head. Who thought she was falling for one guy—and found out too late that he was someone else entirely. And I'm not saying you have to forgive her because it is kind of creepy as hell," she chuckled, followed by a sniff. She wiped at her nose. "But maybe, maybe don't hate her. Because leaving isn't easy and she's going to need a friend."

He sighed. He knew she was right. He wanted to hate Rory but he couldn't. "I wish I could hate her," he sighed. "It would make things easier right now."

Honor shrugged. "Then you wouldn't be you."

He plopped back down on the couch next to his sister. "Honor?"

"Yeah?"

Logan scrunched up his nose, looking down at the two shaggy creatures that were now laying on the floor by their feet. "Your dogs farted."

"Logan," she replied, patting her hand on his knee.

"Yeah?"

"It wasn't the dogs."

AN: So still no Rogan interaction, sorry guys. But they both have some shit to figure out on their own right let me know what you thought of Honor. And Sherlock and Watson. I mean, is it me or are there not enough dogs in the GG world? Paul Anka's the only one. Oh, and that long haired jack russel terrier that Richard and Emily couldn't figure the sex out on, lol. Anyway, I love your reviews, and I love hearing your theories. So let me know what you thought.

Thanks.