AN: Sorry, I know it's been a while since I updated this for you folx. I was just getting to the juicy stuff in RLH so I got kind of pulled in to that. But could never forget this story for long. Just a quick "Previously on Family Affairs..."

Rory left Mitchum for being an abusive asshole. She tried to stick it out at work for a bit, but finally realized she had to leave and moved back home with Stars Hollow and is currently unemployed because Mitchum has had her blackballed.. Logan also left HPG when he found out his father was shtupping the woman he had the feels for. Also, when he found out his father was beating the crap out of the woman he had the feels for and realized he'd been suppressing memories of his own mother's beatings, he set out for revenge. He moved in with his very pregnant sister who subesquently gave birth to a daughter, Penny Lane. He gathered info on his Dad and Jeffery Peterson who's sexual harassment his father and HPG were covering up and took it to a journalist-Jackson Andrews. Logan then realized his father was having him followed and made plans to pass this information on to Jackson and Rory. Rory finally got an interview at the online publication that Logan used his connections to score a writing job at.

I think that's about everything. Enjoy the new update...

The call came at exactly 7 o'clock, just as expected. "Huntzberger," Logan answered immediately upon the first ring.

"Don't you mean Skywalker?"

"Huh?" Logan leaned back in the sleek, ergonomic chair that accompanied the desk in Honor's guest room. He was beyond grateful that they had furnished the room with a seat that was comfortable and not just decorative, seeing as he was spending about 10 hours a day in that chair lately.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you not privy to the code names?"

"There are code names?"

"Oh yeah, you're Luke Skywalker, I'm Obi-wan Kenobi, your father is Darth Vader…"

Logan let out a slightly vexed sigh, rubbing at his weary eyes. "Finn," he groaned.

"Dorsal or tail?"

"Excuse me?"

"I don't know, you're the one naming random fish parts with no context."

"No, not a fish fin; just…Finn…" There was really no other way to describe his madcap best friend. He was an entity all to himself. He had the eccentric billionaire persona down pat—like Clive Palmer or Richard Branson without the work ethic. And sure, the billionaire thing was a bit of a stretch, but his family wasn't far off from that distinction. Logan wasn't sure what he was thinking when he'd decided to let the man get involved in such an important endeavor; except that Colin actually worked, Stephanie was busy reaching out to Rory, Honor had a newborn infant, and there wasn't really anyone else he trusted.

"I'm still lost."

Logan rolled his eyes. "Finn, the man who gave you the phone you're calling me on."

"Ahh, you mean Han Solo."

"Seriously?" Logan asked, not really surprised at all. "He dubbed himself Han Solo?"

"Good looking, roguish but loyal chap, who is apparently going to destroy the Death Star's shield generator and come out the real hero of this story," Jackson explained in what was, no doubt, a reasonable approximation of what Finn had actually said.

"Yep, that sounds like Finn."

"So," There was an infinitesimal pause. "What's this 'Finn's' deal anyway?" Logan noted just the slightest vibration in Jackson's voice, his pitch ticking up a fraction of an interval. He was good at hiding it, but Logan was good at noticing the little details; except, apparently when Rory and Mitchum were involved—then he was good at being ridiculously oblivious to the point of being totally, life-alteringy blindsided. But when he wasn't deluding himself into thinking he had a chance with a pretty girl, he was exceptionally astute.

Logan sat up in his seat. "His deal?"

"Yeah, his deal. You know, how do you know him? Is he trustworthy? Does have a job or does he just sit around all day watching Star Wars movies and trying to figure out who each character would be in real life?"

Logan gritted his teeth. He was starting to really regret getting Finn involved in this. "No deal," Logan replied as nonchalantly as possible. "Just a friend. I've known him forever. It was his apartment we met at last time. We can trust him."

He heard Jackson inhale, then, a second later, let it go. Logan could tell he wanted to know more about Finn, but he was smart enough not to push it. "How much info do you have on your father's tail?" he asked, changing the topic.

"Not much at all," Logan admitted. "I had the car following me traced back to a shell corporation and after that it's a dead end. I'm working on trying to figure out if the phone lines are safe. I haven't found any evidence of a tap yet, but as we both know, a lack of evidence isn't proof of absence."

"True," Jackson agreed. "For now, it's probably best to assume most modes of communication aren't secure."

"Have you told anyone about this story yet?" Logan asked. "Spoken to any sources?"

"No," Jackson acknowledged. "I've been trying to lay some groundwork first, do a little research; investigating any lawsuits the company has dealt with, checking for any public accusations from the past that may have gotten buried…." There was a pause. "Looking into your parent's marriage," he added cautiously. Logan knew that admission was supposed to affect him somehow, but it didn't. As far as Logan was concerned, they weren't his parents anymore. He didn't even really care about what effect digging into his family's past might have on him. The only thing that he even cared about a little, was any blowback this might have on Honor—and by extension, Penny. But he knew, in the end, Penny would be far better served by growing up in a world where men like Mitchum Huntzberger were called to account for their actions.

"That's good," Logan replied, and he could almost sense Jackson relax on the other end of the phone line. "If that's the case, I can't imagine he knows about you yet. I haven't mentioned your name on the phone at all and we only met in person that once."

"At Finn's?"

"At Finn's," Logan cautiously replied.

"And you don't think he put us together there?"

"It's not unusual for me to be there. I've been crashing at his place occasionally the past few weeks when I need to be in the city. And I didn't arrive or leave around the same time as you either."

"You think he knows you're working with another reporter at all?"

That was the million-dollar question. And Logan had given it a lot of consideration. If Mitchum knew there was another reporter on his trail, it was game over. But if not…well, Logan's entire plan hinged on that.

"The only way he could possibly know is if he has a bug in my sister's house somewhere. Or…" Logan hesitated, reaching up to scratch nervously at the back of his neck. He knew this would raise more questions than he was comfortable with, but ultimately, he didn't know how he could keep it from Jackson.

"Or?" he prodded.

"Or in Rory Gilmore's house."

Jackson was quiet for a minute. "You been spending a lot of time at your father's ex-girlfriend's house?" Yep…Logan knew that was coming.

"Not a lot. I just went there once, to get her on board for the story." It was the truth—albeit not the whole one.

"And you mentioned me?"

Logan shrugged. "I asked for her advice on picking a reporter she and some of the other women might feel comfortable talking to."

"You reached out to a couple of other sources before coming to me too, right? Did you ask them for advice?"

"At that time my plan was still just to go after Peterson myself, so no, I didn't ask them what they thought about other potential reporters."

"I see." He could tell Jackson's feelers were up. It was bound to happen eventually. He just had to hope he could trust the man. He had to believe he put his faith in a man that would go after the real story—the one that actually affected people's lives, and not go digging for the salacious gossip. "And you're confident Rory wouldn't tell Mitchum about any of this?"

"Yes."

"Abuse victims often go back to their abusers. She just left him pretty recently, she's vulnerable. She could be a liability."

"We can trust her."

"How can you be so sure?"

"You're just going to have to trust me on that."

He doubted Jackson would take him at his word so easily, but for now, he let it go. "Okay, so, he's on to you, but not me, most likely. Which means you should probably lay low for a bit. Don't go digging where you shouldn't, don't go talking to people you shouldn't." Logan knew he meant it as a generalization, but there was also a clear implication that 'people' included Rory. "Just don't go drawing attention to yourself."

"Actually," Logan said, pausing for dramatic effect. "I was thinking drawing attention to myself might be exactly what I should do."

"Well, that's an…interesting strategy." Jackson clearly wasn't convinced; not that he expected him to be. It was obviously the complete opposite of what common sense would dictate in this situation. "Care to expound?"

"If Mitchum Huntzberger has one fault—sociopathic tendencies not withstanding—it's that he is incapable of seeing me as anything but a failure and a disappointment."

"If that's the case, why bother having you followed?"

"Because he's counting on it. He's just waiting for me to screw up. He's looking for something he can hold over my head to keep me quiet."

"Okay." He could tell he had Jackson's interest now.

"So, I prove him right. I show him that I'm the pathetic, unworthy half-wit who is so inept at journalism he doesn't even understand the concept of conflict of interest. Make him think I'm chasing this story on my own. It'll draw attention away from you. I can plant misinformation to throw him off our track. And if and when that misinformation gets back to him, we can use it to suss out any leaks."

Logan could almost imagine the wheels turning in Jackson's head. "That's…" the reporter started. "Actually, that's kind of brilliant."

"Believe it or not, I'm more than good looks and a trust fund." Not that Logan had any intention of using said trust fund. It was blood money as far as he was concerned. For now, he had enough in savings from his salary the last two years to get by for a while on the pittance Hugo was paying him. But that was beside the point.

"Well, I certainly hope you're more than your looks," Jackson ribbed.

"Hey!"

"There's just one little hiccup to this plan," Jackson said, ignoring Logan's protest to his implication that he was less than handsome.

"What's that?"

"It's going to involve us staying in pretty close contact while not drawing attention to the fact that we're in contact."

Logan shrugged. "There are messenger apps, burner phones…"

"That only goes so far. Even burner phones can get tapped. Apps and email can get hacked. And if he thinks you're going after him, he'll be motivated to monitor your communications in any way he can."

Logan knew he was right. The more Logan played his role, the more surveillance Mitchum would rain down upon him.

"We need a proxy. A trustworthy third party to act as our go between."

Logan knew where this was going. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not? He's already involved. You involved him. You said he was trustworthy."

"He can be trusted with the information," Logan agreed. That wasn't the part he didn't trust him with. "He's family—the kind of family that actually means something, unlike most of my actual family."

"Then what's the problem? You think it'll look suspicious if he and I are seen together."

Logan made a noise—a sort of half scoff, half snicker. "No, I'm fairly certain that wouldn't look suspicious at all. At least not at first."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Let's just say that…Finn gets bored easily."

"You got a better idea?"

Logan didn't. The truth was, they needed someone they could trust to pass information back and forth without arousing suspicion. And the wealthy, flamboyant, bisexual playboy and the handsome, young ingénue spending time together would hardly raise eyebrows, at least any more than any two non-heterosexual men would in 2009. Still, he had a very bad feeling about this.

"You were flirting!" Logan accused as the door swung open to let him in.

Finn shrugged lazily. "Aren't I always?"

"You were flirting with my reporter!" Logan clarified angrily, slamming the door behind him as he entered.

"Ahh yes," Finn gave a wicked smile, biting his lip covetously. "The lovely Jackson Andrews."

"No!"

"No?" Finn repeated, his eyebrows arching high.

"Aren't you into redheads these days anyway?"

Finn pursed his lips together, lifting a shoulder to his ear and letting it drop. "Only when it comes to the ladies. Those ginger lads don't really do it for me."

Logan scoffed. Finn was going to be the death of him one of these days. He was incapable of taking anything seriously. "You can have literally anyone else in the world. Jackson is off limits."

"But have you seen that boy's lips?" Finn asked, his eyes rolling back in his head as he thought of said lips. "They're like soft, beautiful pillows of fluffy goodness. And that jawline…whoo-ee!" Finn fanned himself dramatically.

"I don't care." Logan dropped his overnight bag on the couch; he'd take it into the guest room later. First, he needed to set a few things straight with his friend. "Find another set of pillow-y lips to daydream about. If you break his heart and he drops the story, I will fucking kill you."

"What do you think?" Finn asked, his voice outraged as he threw his hands over his chest. "That I'm some sort of lothario that sets out to leave a string of broken hearts in my wake."

"Yes."

Finn bobbed his head in consideration. "Yeah, actually, that's fairly accurate."

Logan glared in annoyance.

"So, what?" Finn shrugged, holding his hands out innocently. "No more secret missions for Han Solo? Am I not allowed to see him at all? What if I'm walking through Rockefeller Center just as he happens to be leaving work?" Finn started flailing his arms around emphatically. "Do I have to cross over to the Fifth Avenue side? If he trips, falls into one of the Channel Garden Fountains, hits his head on a mermaid, and drowns, can I touch my mouth to his pillowy lips to perform CPR?"

Logan rolled his eyes. "Calm down. I'm not forbidding you from seeing him—much as I would like to. Alas, I'm actually doing the opposite."

Finn stopped his wild hand motions, cocking his head to the side curiously. "The opposite?"

Logan took a long, unsteady breath. "I'm asking you to see more of him."

"Reeeeally, now?" Finn grinned a self-satisfied grin as he drew out the word.

"See him," Logan stressed. "Not sleep with him."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Finn waved dismissively. "Of course not."

"I'm serious, Finn," Logan warned. "This isn't a game. This is business. We need the illusion of a relationship, not an actual relationship. This is about getting information back and forth, not about getting your rocks off. You're a messenger, nothing more."

"What if I want to deliver my messages with a bit of panache? You don't ask a lion to change its stripes; you don't ask a Finn to change his panache."

"Lions don't have stripes."

"See…" Finn pointed his accusation, "there you go again trying to stifle my creativity! I will not allow myself to be shackled by your narrow-minded ways!"

Logan scrubbed his face with his hands, running his fingers through his hair. He loved Finn like a brother, but the man was exhausting. This is what he did—he wore you down and spun you in circles until you caved. Most people thought it was just drunken idiocy, but the truth was, Finn knew exactly what he was doing, and exactly how to get his way.

"Whatever," Logan gave in, plopping down on the couch wearily. "You do you. But if you do him and it interferes with what we're doing here, you're a dead man."

"So," Hugo set his pen down on the pad he was taking notes on and leaned back in his chair. Rory tried to inconspicuously sneak a peak at the comments he had jotted down during their meeting, but the inconvenient angle and his small, scribbled penmanship made it impossible to get more than a word or two. "Do you have any questions for me?"

Rory hated this part of the interview. The part where she had to pretend she wasn't desperate. The part where she acted like the benefits package, or company culture, or opportunities for promotion would actually affect her decision. At this point, any job that didn't involve cleaning out toilets would do—and she only drew the line there because she was barely capable of cleaning up after herself, let alone other people.

"Umm, well," she glanced down at the list she had prepared for this very moment. "I think you answered most everything on here." She held up the note pad as evidence that she'd actually come prepared. "I guess," she took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves and sound confident and composed. "What qualities do think are most important for a candidate to have to be successful here?"

Hugo pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. "We like go-getters around here," he admitted. "People who can take responsibility for their own time and success. I know, that's pretty standard for reporters in general, but especially here. If you haven't noticed, he gestured through the large glass windows of his office, this place is pretty small. Manhattan real estate is expensive and we're a tiny start up, so we actually encourage people to work from home. We don't care what time you show up, or when you leave. No one is clocking in and out. As long as you get your assignments in by deadline, we're happy. But that also means you need to be in charge of your own time. No one's going to be breathing down your neck or sticking their head in your cubicle to make sure things are coming along as they should."

Actually, Rory kind of liked that, especially after what she'd been through at The Voice. She thought of the way Peterson would occasionally stop by her desk and just hover creepily. Or the way Mitchum would call her into his office under one guise or another just to see her. At the time she thought it was sweet but in retrospect, she realized just how he was exerting his power over her.

Of course, she worried a little bit about mentorship and growth if she was going to be spending so much time on her own. Which begged the question. "How does the feedback process work, then? Will there be someone around for me to bounce ideas off of, go to for advice? Who would my direct supervisor be?"

"Honestly," Hugo said, "we're not that formal. You'll have an assistant editor that you submit your pieces to, of course, but we really aim to have a culture based less around hierarchy and more around collaboration. As you can see," he nodded out towards the main floor again, "When you are here, the office space is open—no assigned desks or closed off cubicles. We encourage you to run stuff by each other. Everyone has something to offer, not just editors and big-name writers who have been doing this since before Al Gore invented the internet."

Rory asked a few more questions and they finished up the interview. Hugo promised to get back to her within the week. She hoped it had gone well but, honestly, she had no idea. She made her way out of Hugo's office and onto the main floor. She'd spotted Logan on the way in. He'd waved to her and given her a smile; the nervous thumping in her chest had intensified, and yet somehow left her feeling just a little more ready to face whatever lay ahead of her.

She looked over towards the seat he'd been occupying earlier at a long table off to the left. He wasn't there and her heart sunk for a moment.

"Hey!" she nearly jumped three feet in the air—which was an impressive feat for a Gilmore whose closest encounter with a high jump was watching the Olympics on TV while mercilessly mocking the uniforms of other countries and munching on French fries from Luke's.

"Logan," she panted, trying to catch her breath. She turned around to face the man who'd snuck up behind her. "I didn't see you there."

"Yeah, you were staring pretty hard at that empty chair for some reason," he teased. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about it. On the one hand, the fact that he noticed how pathetically desperate she was for his attention was mortifying. On the other hand, the fact that he felt comfortable enough to tease her about it was comforting. It almost felt like things used to be…before.

"I was just trying to decide which spot I was going to claim. I might need to kick out the poor shmo who was sitting there before;" she pointed at the seat, "show him who's boss," she tried her best to match his light and breezy tone so as not to embarrass herself any further. She gave him a grin that she hoped looked cute and not like she was a chipmunk storing nuts in her cheeks for winter.

"Marking your territory already? Interview must have gone well." He smirked reassuringly at her.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I hope so," she admitted, letting just a touch of the vulnerability she felt show through.

"Hey," he said, looking at her with those soft brown eyes—the ones that were meant to reassure her. "I'm sure you did great. And I know Hugo was impressed with your portfolio. You're gonna get it."

"But what if…" She didn't even need to finish her statement. Which was good, because she wasn't sure if she could.

"You don't have to worry about that."

"Of course I have to worry about that. He wants to make sure I have no options; no options but to go crawling back. And he's done a really good job of it so far." Apparently, she could.

"Hugo hired me," Logan reminded her. "That's not the actions of a man who's afraid of pissing off Mitchum Huntzberger."

There was a pause. Logan let his eyes glance around the newsroom. It wasn't very full; Hugo must not have been kidding when he said people were encouraged to work from home. But there were still enough people milling around to cause Logan to say, "Come on, we should talk in private. There's an empty office the next floor up."

He grabbed her hand and guided her towards the stairwell. They made their way up the flight of stairs in silence, exiting into a vestibule with, what looked to be a small advertising agency's office off to the left. They went right down a hall and Logan opened a door to an empty room, flicking on the lights and motioning her in. The door clicked shut behind them.

They stood awkwardly in the center of the room, having nowhere to sit. "Sorry about the no furniture thing, but empty offices are usually, well…empty." He glanced around the room once more before shrugging and taking a seat on the floor, cross-legged, his back up against a wall. He patted the spot next to him. "Look, I saved a seat just for you," he joked.

Rory rolled her eyes but smiled, joining him on the hard linoleum. Despite how awkward everything still was between them, there were still these moments, these tiny, fleeting flashes of time when everything seemed like it was before. Those were the moments she clung to; the moments that gave her hope. Hope not only that things between her and Logan could be right again—even if it was just as friends; but hope that she could be right again. Hope that maybe there was some normalcy out there that she could rediscover. Hope that she wouldn't just always be living in a strange 'after' world that she couldn't even comprehend.

"I spoke to Jackson," Logan informed her. "Told him about the tail."

Rory nodded. "Did you find anything new out about that?"

"Not really," Logan said. "There seems to be some connection between the shell corporation that owns that car that's following me, and this Ukrainian company that, as far as I can tell is supposed to be some sort of public relations firm," he informed her. "Which isn't fishy at all," he added sarcastically. "I haven't found any evidence of any bugs either, but I still don't trust the phone. You still haven't noticed anyone following you, have you?"

"No," Rory shook her head. "I doubt he feels like he needs to. Like I said before, I think he just assumes if he can make my life miserable enough, I'll realize I need him and go crawling back."

"Good," Logan replied. "Let him keep underestimating us. His hubris is his fatal flaw. But don't let your guard down, just in case. Besides, things might escalate soon."

"Escalate?" Rory sat up at attention. Weren't things bad enough? Why did he think they were going to get worse?

"Jackson and I came up with a plan." She listened while he explained said plan to her.

"No," she said when he was done.

"Rory…"

Rory shook her head forcefully. "This is a bad plan, Logan. It's a bad, bad plan. It's dangerous; you're basically throwing yourself to the wolves."

He took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I can handle myself, I promise."

"If he thinks you're on to him he'll try to stop you. He's not going to go down without a fight."

"He'll try, but not very hard. He won't think he has to. He knows no paper will print anything I write due to conflict of interest. He'll mostly sit around laughing, thinking I'm digging my own grave. Meanwhile, I can throw him off Jackson's trail long enough to gather the evidence he needs. It's the only way."

"I don't like this."

He took the hand that was in hers and reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ears, letting his fingers linger on her skin, his eyes catching hers. "It's going to be okay." Rory's breath caught in the back of her throat. Why did he have to look at her that way? That way that made her almost believe that he could still have feelings for her? Rory nodded, finally tearing her gaze from his.

"You're still willing to talk to Jackson—right? Off the record, at least?"

She nodded again. "I want to help."

"Good." He reached into his pocket to pull out a phone and hand it to her. "He's going to call you on this in a couple of days to set up a time to meet. She wrapped her fingers around the device but he didn't let go right away. "There's just one thing I need to warn you about…"

She looked at him, waiting for him to go on; wondering what bad news he could have now. As if the fact that he was willingly painting a giant target on his back for Mitchum to take aim at wasn't bad enough.

"I think Jackson might suspect…umm, you know…" he paused, giving her a meaningful look. "That you and I…" That they…what? She wondered. Were friends? Wanted to be more than friends but never could be? That they'd shared a few forbidden kisses in what felt like another life? "Have more than a professional relationship," he finally finished, leaving her just a clueless as to where they stood as she ever was.

"Right," she said, not sure how else to respond. The air around them seemed to still. She could hear the sound of their breathing, oddly in sync. They both still had their hands on the burner phone. Rory shifted her grip uneasily, her fingers brushing against his. He cleared his throat, swallowing visibly and then, let go.

Rory stood up suddenly, brushing off her pants. "Thanks, umm, for this," she said, holding up the phone, her eyes darting around the room. He pushed himself up off the wall to join her in an upright position. "I should get going. I'm supposed to meet Chase for a drink."

"Yeah, umm, tell him I said 'hi,'" she heard Logan request as she bee-lined for the door, her heart thudding in her ears. She had to get out of there, that room suddenly felt incredibly claustrophobic. She reached for the knob, pulling the door open.

"Rory." She felt his hand clasp around hers before she could finish making her exit from the room. She turned around to face him once more. "Good luck with the job. I'll see you soon."

"Yeah," she nodded. "I'll see you soon." He released her hand, and she finished scurrying from the room.

AN: So not that it really makes a difference to the story but I know Logan refers to Finn as bisexual in this chapter. In my head he's actually pansexual but that wasn't really a wildly claimed of understood sexual orientation in 2009 so for now, we're sticking with 'bi.' Also, I'm fairly obsessed with this Finn/Jackson pairing so they might start to get a bigger role in this story. But don't worry there will still be lots of Rory/Logan sexual tension to go around, especially once they're working together again.

Anyway, as always leave me a review pretty please with a cherry on top. And in exchange, I'll try not to wait so long before updating again.