Rory looked down at the evidence that lay on the table in front of her. She didn't know what to feel. There was exhilaration and relief. This was what they needed, this could turn everything around for them, it could save them. But there was also fear. This could ruin her life. Once this was out there for the world to see, no one would ever look at her the same way again. Her name would forever be connected to Mitchum Huntzberger in the eyes of the public. Could she handle that? Being known only for what had happened to her and not for what she accomplished? Would she ever even be able to accomplish anything? Monica Lewinksky had gotten a Master's in Social Psychology from the London School of Economics and she'd barely been heard from since. She had to imagine it was hard to find a serious job when the entire world knew you as the girl who blew a President in the Oval Office, how was she supposed to fare any better?
And, of course, there was the anger and betrayal. She had trusted Chase. She had put her faith in him when she was at her most vulnerable and he had invaded her privacy and taken something that didn't belong to him. She looked up at her friend. "I can't believe you did this."
"I thought you might need it someday," he defended. "And, well, here we are." He spread his arms out in front of him. "This was hard evidence and you were ready to just be rid of it."
"That was my prerogative, Chase," she reminded him, taking a deep breath to suppress the wrath that was building inside of her. Why did everyone always think she was incapable of making her own decisions? If even her friends saw her as that weak and easily manipulated, what would the world think when this all came out? She would be a laughingstock. And those that didn't see her as a sad, pathetic victim would think she was a gold-digger who was trying to sleep her way to the top and got what she deserved. "It was my decision to make." She jabbed her finger into the proof that sat before her. "This didn't belong to you."
"Look, I'm not going to apologize for this. I was fully aware that you were probably going to be pissed, but it had to be done. I was looking out for you."
"I didn't ask you to look out for me. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."
"Psht," Chase scoffed.
Rory's eyes went wide with anger at his dismissal. "You don't agree?" she demanded. "You think…what? I'm some sniveling mess that needs to be saved?"
"That day? Yeah, you were. You'd just been through something horrifyingly traumatic. You were barely holding it together. And not because you're weak, but because that experience would make anyone a basket case. You were in no position to make big decisions. So yeah, maybe it was your decision to make, but that was not the time to be making it."
Rory plopped her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. He had a point. Back then she had been a sniveling mess—for good reason. She was in survival mode, just trying to hold on and not fall into some swirling hole of abyss. Maybe she had needed some saving. And maybe she hadn't been in a position to make those decisions. And it wasn't like Chase had sold it to the tabloids or given it to Logan or Jackson behind her back. He'd just held on to it until she was ready to make that decision.
So now she had a choice to make. If she didn't want to be a victim anymore, she needed to stop acting like one. She needed to stand up…for herself, for Logan, and for everyone else Mitchum had hurt…or could hurt in the future. She could stubbornly ignore what was in front of her face out of some misplaced sense of pride and independence, or she could use it to take a stand and stop waiting for everyone else to figure out how to bring Mitchum down. If she didn't want to be the girl that needed saving anymore, then today was the day for her to save herself.
"You're right," she admitted, slumping forward into her seat.
Chase blinked disbelievingly. "I'm sorry, what was that?"
Rory rolled her eyes. "I said you were right."
A self-satisfied grin sprouted up on Chase's face. "Say that again?"
She let out an annoyed sigh. Right or not, she was still kind of mad at him, and she wasn't really in the mood to capitulate. But also, she supposed she did kind of owe him. "You were right," she conceded yet again. "We need this. And well, maybe I wasn't doing my best thinking when I got rid of it. So…thank you."
Chase's face grew serious, sympathy etched across his features. "I think you're doing the right thing to come forward with this," he told her, reaching out to place a hand over hers. "But ultimately it doesn't matter what I think. Or what Logan thinks, or Jackson Andrews. It doesn't matter what the world thinks. All that matters is what you think. So…are you sure about this?"
Rory bit her lip pensively, taking one more moment to really contemplate her decision. But she knew what she had to do. She reached for her purse, digging inside for the burner phone she kept for exactly this reason.
"I have to call Jackson," she said as she flipped it open. Her eyes flicked to Chase. He smiled at her and she felt her anxiety recede just the tiniest bit. "I have to tell him we need to meet."
Logan pulled the beat up 2002 Toyota Corolla into his sister's garage and turned off the ignition. He was ashamed to admit that he had felt physically pained when he had handed over the title to his Porsche 911 and been given the keys to this depressingly ordinary automobile instead. But it had to happen. His bank account was fine for now, but without a job, he wasn't sure how long he could make that last. Besides, Mitchum's spies wouldn't think to look for him in a vehicle so unexceptional. And once they figured it out, they would still have to pick it out of a sea of other old, mid-priced, white, sedans. Assuming he hadn't been followed to the car lot that was, but he was pretty confident he'd been able to slip the tail he had on him this afternoon.
He made his way through the garage, into the mudroom, kicking off his shoes. Honor would kill him if he tracked dirt into the house. As he entered the kitchen, Sherlock and Watson came barreling towards him, jumping up and covering his face with wet, slobbery kisses. He went to push them off him but as he did, a sickening thought entered his mind. Would Mitchum come after the dogs? He'd threatened his own granddaughter, anything was possible. Could they come home one day to find that Mitchum had 'left them a message' in the form of two dead Airedales? While Logan wasn't a fan of dog drool facials, he had grown rather fond of the beasts. They would need to be careful about letting them out in the yard unattended.
"Logan?" Honor came shuffling into the kitchen with Penny strapped to her torso in a baby sling. He kept his canine concerns to himself. He had enough anxiety inducing news to impart on her without putting thoughts of dogicide in her head. "You're late," she told him. "You said you'd be home by six." It was almost 9. And while he wasn't a teenager with a curfew anymore (who was he kidding, he was never a teenager with a curfew) Honor was understandably concerned about making sure he showed up where he was supposed to, when he was supposed to these days.
"I'm sorry," he told her. "I had a few unexpected things I had to take care of."
"You should have called. I was worried. I left you two voicemails."
"I know, I just…" he inhaled sharply then let it out. "We need to talk and I didn't want to do it over the phone.
"That doesn't ease my mind." Honor informed him.
Logan pursed his lips together as he unzipped the side pouch of his laptop case and pulled out some papers. He set them down on the white, marbled countertop of the kitchen island and slid them her way.
"What's this?" she asked as she pulled them towards her.
"I stopped by the police department."
"Police?" She examined the pages in front of her. "'How to File for an Order of Protection in Nassau County Family Court'?" she read from the front form. She looked back up at him. "A restraining order?"
Logan nodded. "That has a list of all the documentation you need as well as the application. You'll have to take it directly to the courthouse to file. I can drive you if you want…that is, if you don't mind a major downgrade from your usual accommodations."
"What are you talking about? What's going on? Did he do something else? Did something happen to your Porsche?"
Logan reached up to scratch his neck. "I umm…I sold the Porsche." The same physical pain he'd felt in the car lot struck again. He had a suspicion this one was going to hurt for a while. He felt something cold against his hand and looked down to see Sherlock butting his nose against him. It was amazing how dogs could sense when you needed them. Logan opened his hand to scratch the terrier on the head.
"You sold your car? You're not in the city anymore, Logan. You can't get around on Long Island without a vehicle."
"I have a vehicle. It's just a little more…practical."
"You mean it was cheaper," she clarified. She was well aware he had been cutting his costs considerably as of late. Honor was not one who was used to living on a budget…neither of them were. But she was starting to become concerned with his budgeting attempts, afraid he was cutting corners on things for the sake of his finances. And he was cutting corners—but not the important ones.
He shrugged. "There were several benefits to the trade-in."
"You had it inspected at least I hope?" she queried. "The last thing I need is to worry about you breaking down on some deserted road somewhere with no one but Dad's goons around for miles."
"It's in tip-top shape." Mechanically speaking, at least, though from a cosmetic perspective, it could use a paint job and the seats could use a full reupholstering—and that was just for starters. Also, he was really going to miss those air-conditioned seats come summer.
Honor sighed. "So what, may I ask, inspired this new automobile?" Penny was starting to fuss, possibly agitated by her mother's anxiety. Honor bounced up and down gently. "Shhh," she hushed the infant gently. "It's okay Penelope."
"I um…," Logan licked his suddenly dry lips. "I may be sort of…unemployed?"
"What?!" Logan cringed at Honor's screech and Penny let out a high-pitched wail. "Oh for fuck's sake," she cursed, bouncing the baby harder. "Mommy's sorry, sweetheart," she glared at Logan out of the corner of her eyes. "I'm going to put her in her crib. We'll finish this talk when I get back." Honor turned and marched out of the room.
Logan drooped against the countertop and Sherlock once again started nudging his hand while Watson followed after Honor and Penny. "Thanks bud, I appreciate the support. How about a snack?" Logan hadn't had anything to eat since lunch other than a granola bar he'd gotten out of the vending machine at the police department. He pulled the double doors of the refrigerator open and heard his stomach audibly grumble at the sight of leftover pot roast. He pulled the Tupperware out and helped himself to a serving, throwing a few scraps Sherlock's way. "Don't tell your Mom," he cautioned the dog.
Once his dinner had been reheated in the microwave, he took a seat at the kitchen island and dug in. A few minutes later, Honor returned.
"Please, help yourself," she said in response to the site of him shoveling food down his throat. He knew she really didn't care. He was welcome to anything to eat in that house. Hell, half the time she was trying to force feed him like she was a Jewish grandmother.
"What can I say? Carmen makes a mean pot roast."
Honor sighed and sat down next to him. "Why don't you start at the beginning," she told him.
Logan speared a potato and popped it in his mouth, buying him a few extra seconds before he had to speak. "Hugo called me into the office today. Apparently Mitchum knows there's another reporter on the story. He thinks it's someone at Skribe and he was trying to force Hugo to shut it down."
Honor tensed. "So, Hugo fired you to appease Dad? I can't believe that, Hugo hates Dad."
Logan shook his head. "I told him to fire me. I'm not going to let his loyalty to me ruin what he's building there. And besides, him firing me plays into Mitchum's misconception that one of Hugo's writers was the one poking their nose into his business. Hopefully this will appease him a bit, at least temporarily."
"And why are we trying to appease him?" Honor wondered. "Let him be the one who's scared for once."
If only it worked that way. He would love nothing more than to see a scared, impotent Mitchum cowering in fear while he watched the metaphorical fist of justice come barreling towards him, helpless to stop it. But he knew that wasn't how it was going to go down. As long as there was a fighting chance, Mitchum would fight. And right now, Logan had to admit that Mitchum's chances were far better than just 'fighting.' "You think he's just going to sit there trembling like a scared, little kid as the walls close in around him? No, he's going to lash out. It's already started…why do you think he cornered you in that mall?" Logan reached out to place his hands over the papers that were still on the island. He slid them over to Honor once more. "That's why you need to fill these out and take them to the court."
Honor looked at him with a sharp, defiant glint in her eye. "And I suppose there's another application in there for you?" She asked.
"Honor…" obviously she knew there wasn't, and she wasn't happy about it.
"So I need protecting and you don't?" she questioned. That wasn't what this was. Why did all the women in his life seem to object to him trying to look out for them? And okay, sure, if he took the time to deconstruct that statement maybe he could understand that it sounded exactly like what Honor was making it out to be, but it wasn't. This wasn't about that fact that they were women. And it's not like he thought they needed him to save them. It was just that they were the ones that were most endangered by Mitchum right now. And he wasn't about to let him hurt the people he cared about just to get to him—not if he could do something about it. Besides, Penny was just a baby—she did need protecting.
"Don't be ridiculous, Honor. This isn't just about you and me, it's about Penny."
"Penny would like her uncle to stay safe too."
"Time is running out, Honor. We have a week. One week—and that's if Mitchum doesn't figure out Jackson is the one investigating him. If I take out a restraining order on him, he can't come near me, but I can't go near him either. I need to keep every tool I have at my disposal right now."
"What about me?" His sister squared her shoulders, staring him straight in the eye.
"What about you?" Logan asked.
"I can help," she insisted.
"No," he replied unequivocally. The best thing she could do was stay safe. He had enough to worry about without worrying about her and Penny any more than he already was.
"You said you needed every tool at your disposal. Well, I'm at your disposal. I want to get him out of our lives as much as anyone, especially after last week."
"You're not a tool, Honor. And this is dangerous. Besides, at this point I just don't see how you can help anyway." It's not that she wasn't capable of it, but they were down to the wire and there was too much going on to bring anyone else in.
"I can," she insisted. "I have. I helped Jackson find that nurse that took care of Mom."
"You what?!"
"He came to me and asked me if I remembered anything," she replied with a matter-of-fact shrug. "I did."
"I'm going to kill him."
"Oh stop it," Honor rolled her eyes. "Your savior complex is getting out of control. This doesn't all fall on you. You want to take Dad down, you need to let other people help. I can help…I can talk to Mom."
He swiveled in his bar stool to stare at her agog. "No!"
"Why not?"
"Because it's Mom. She's not interested in helping us blow up the Huntzberger name. She's living a comfortably numb life and money, privilege, and benzos. Going public with this is the last thing she would want."
"You don't know that," she protested.
"Really?" he asked her with a pointed eyebrow raise. He and Shira were hardly close, but he knew her well enough to know that she would want to avoid any semblance of scandal at all costs. And this was going to mar her in scandal.
Honor's shoulder's deflated, she obviously knew the same. "Well, it's worth a shot."
Logan sighed. She wasn't going to stop fighting him on this and he didn't have the time or mental energy to keep arguing. "If I let you talk to Mom, will you fill out the restraining order and stay away from Mitchum?"
"I'm sorry," Honor scoffed. "If you let me?"
The desire to scream or pull out his hair or fling his fork across the room was strong. But he settled for rolling his eyes and burying his face in his hands. "You know what I mean."
Honor huffed but relented. "Fine," she said. "I'll get the restraining order. But I am talking to Mom. It may be a long shot, but we have to try."
Logan let his shoulders droop at the semi-victory. At least that was one conversation off his plate. He had to call Finn and have him get word to Jackson about what Mitchum knew, but he couldn't deal with that now. He felt so incredibly drained, all he wanted to do was go to bed and sleep for a week. But he didn't have a week, so he'd take the eight hours of inefficient dozing and deal with the rest in the morning.
He pushed back his seat and stood up, reaching for his plate. "I've got it." Honor reached out to place her hand over his. "Go, get some sleep, you look like hell."
"Thanks," he replied, the word coming out halfway between a chuckle and a sigh. "Love you too, Sis."
"Uh huh…uh huh…I see…" Jackson paced anxiously as he listened to Finn's end of the phone conversation he was currently on. He'd been living on edge for months, and these last 8 days in particular had been extra ulcer inducing. He was living on a steady diet of toast, Tums, and coffee. So, when Rory had reached out on the burner phone last night insisting that she had something important to tell him, he didn't know if he should be excited or terrified and he'd been unable to stop worrying about it since. Then, when Finn's burner had wrung ten minutes ago and he'd said the words "Hey, Logan," Jackson was sure his stomach lining was going to rupture right then and there. But so far, at least, it seemed to be holding together.
Finn sighed heavily. "This is not good, Logan." Great. That was just great. Not that he'd been expecting good news, but hearing Finn confirm it out loud... Finn scrubbed his face with the hand that wasn't holding the phone. "Yeah, but how much longer until he pieces it together? Your diversion attempts aren't going to cut it anymore." Another sigh. "Fine, I'll tell him. But this is his choice. Whatever he decides to do, I support him." The words offered the briefest of respites in the chaotic, swirling mess of cortisol and caffeine that was seeped into every cell in his body. Whatever happened, Finn had his back…even against his best friend; not that he wanted to come between Finn and Logan, but still, knowing he had that support was quite possibly the only thing holding him together right now. "No, there's really nothing new on our end. Still no one on the record. The nurse is on background at least, but everyone he's actually laid a hand on is still declining to even go that far. Jackson thinks one of the girls might be persuadable, but even if she does come around, it's not enough for a story. Who knows, maybe Gilmore will have something we can use…Yeah, Rory. She's on her way over here right now…I take it you didn't know?" Finn nodded. "Alright…yeah…I'll keep you posted." Finn hung up the phone and looked up at Jackson. "Mitchum knows Logan's not working alone."
"What?!" Jackson's eyes went wide with fear.
"He doesn't know it's you yet," Finn assured him. "Logan…" They were interrupted by a knock on the door—Rory. She better have an actual smoking gun with her, otherwise, they were screwed. Jackson looked at the door, then back to Finn.
"Logan is pretty sure he can keep him off the scent for a little longer. Just," Finn nodded towards the door, "focus on doing what you do." Jackson felt his teeth grinding together as his jaw clenched. When all of this was over, he was going to need a great dentist as well as a gastroenterologist to restore him back to health. He took a deep breath and went to answer the door.
"Hey," Rory waved shyly.
"Come in," Jackson spread his arm out in invitation. Rory entered the apartment and Jackson peeked into the hallway before closing the door behind her.
"I wasn't followed," she assured him. "I got off the subway two stops early and waited until the doors were closing to get off the car. No one was able to follow me off." The assurance did make him feel better. He'd been uncertain about the security of having her meet him here. He was starting to worry that they'd been relying on this apartment too much, but he couldn't think of a better option. Her place was almost certainly being surveilled, and a public meeting was not an option.
"Hey, Love," Finn greeted with a somewhat downtrodden, yet comforting smile. "Can I get you something to drink?"
Rory shook her head. "I'm okay," she assured them.
"Well, then," Finn replied, "I guess I'll leave you two alone."
"You can stay if you want," Rory replied.
"That's okay," Jackson assured her. "Whatever you have to say, it's confidential."
"No," Rory shook her head. "It's not. That's why I'm here. To go on the record."
Jackson squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to let his frustration show. Now? Now she wanted to go on the record. She couldn't have decided this a month ago? She had to know her credibility was blown to hell the minute that picture went to print. What did she expect them to gain from this? But still, he also knew this was a huge step for her. Coming forward like this, putting herself and her reputation and possibly even her physical safety on the line? That took a whole lot of chutzpah, no matter what the circumstances.
"Rory, I appreciate that, really, but…"
"But no one will believe what I say."
"Well…" He let out an uncertain breath. It was true but he obviously didn't want to tell her that. "I believe you. I do."
She bit her lip and looked away. He didn't know if she completely trusted him, but he supposed she must, otherwise why would she be here? "Can we sit?" she asked. "I have something to show you. Something that, well…you'll see."
"Yeah, of course," Jackson nodded, motioning towards the dining room table to their right. He turned to Finn, silently letting him know to leave them alone. He started to turn but Rory stopped him.
"No, really, stay," she insisted as she took a seat.
"Rory, Love, really, it's fine. I don't have to be here."
"I want you to be," she insisted. Jackson didn't know how appropriate that was, but if she really wanted Finn here and wasn't just being polite, who was he to tell her 'no'? She should be as comfortable in the process as she needed to be.
"If that's really what you want, then I'll stay. But don't feel obligated."
"I just…" she let out a sigh. "You're going to see this eventually," she admitted. "Everyone is going to see this eventually, and I guess I just…Baby steps, right? It's like practice for when the article comes out." Jackson wasn't in any way confident that the article was going to come out, but he didn't really think that was the best thing to say at the moment.
He sat down at the table with her and Finn followed, pulling his chair closer and laying a reassuring hand on Jackson's knee.
Rory was quiet for a minute and Jackson just sat silently with her. He didn't want to rush her. Finally, she shifted in her seat to grab her purse and open it up, digging through for a few seconds and then emerging with an envelope. She started to hand it over but stopped suddenly.
"I want you to know," she started, swallowing nervously. "I didn't even know this still existed until last night. I wasn't keeping from you." Jackson had to admit, that had him somewhat intrigued. Not that it really mattered; she was under no obligation to share it with him even if she had known.
"It's fine, Rory," he assured her. "You don't owe me any explanations." She bit her lip nervously and extended her arm towards him. He took the envelope, and opened it up, pulling out the paper inside, his heart immediately starting to beat faster at the site of Mitchum Huntzberger's personalized stationery. He even felt Finn tense next to him.
Jackson set the pages down and smoothed them out in front of him, his eyes skimming greedily over the words. He finished reading and he immediately returned to the top, still not quite convinced of what his own eyes were seeing.
"This is real?" he breathed out incredulously.
"It is," Rory nodded in confirmation.
"This is handwritten." His mind was still boggling at the surreality of it.
"Yes," she confirmed the obvious.
"So, if I take this to a handwriting expert, they will be able to verify that this is his handwriting.
"I assume so…Although, legally I'm not sure how much their testimony holds up, but…" But that was in court. For his purposes it was valid.
"But you can verify that this is from him?"
"Yes."
"How…where…?" He didn't even know where to begin with this. It may not have been an actual smoking gun, but he was pretty sure it was better—so long as it could be authenticated.
"My first day back at The Voice after New Year, after he…you know…"Jackson nodded. He did indeed know. "Well, I told you how he'd…proposed…" her eyes glanced at Finn. Apparently, she wasn't sure if he knew. His straight face told her that he had, and she looked back at Jackson, her eyes just a little more guarded than they had been a minute ago.
"He didn't," Finn assured her, placing a hand over Jackson's. "Logan…" Her shoulders relaxed and the cloud passed.
"When I got to work that day," she continued on, "this note was on my desk along with the ring. I couldn't just throw out a 4-carat diamond, I couldn't keep it, I couldn't go give it back to him myself—that was what he wanted…to force me to confront him." Jackson nodded. That very likely had been his intention. "I gave the ring and the note to Chase to give back to Mitchum's assistant, but apparently…"
"Apparently your friend only completed half the task," Jackson finished for her.
"Yeah," Rory nodded. "Chase had mentioned something to me a while back, about having something. I didn't know what. But he said he'd only give it to me if I was ready to come forward with it."
"And are you?" Jackson asked. "Are you ready for this to go public?" His heart was galloping in his chest as he awaited her confirmation.
"Yes," she nodded.
"And you and your friend Chase will both attest to its veracity?"
"We will."
Jackson let his eyes scan over the words once more, in complete awe of what he had in front of him. "He admits to it," he said out loud. "He expressly apologizes for hitting you. He even mentions the time he hit you at Christmas." Rory nodded. "Rory, this is essentially a hand-written confession." It even gave insight into other aspects of their relationship, like the fact that he had asked her to keep it secret. "This changes everything."
"You think so?" she asked, looking up at him hopefully. "It's enough?" By itself, it was borderline. He could probably make it fly with the rest of the circumstantial evidence they had accumulated. But he was also pretty sure that this could snowball into so much more.
Finn stood up and walked over to her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "This is amazing, Love," he told her. "You are amazing for standing up to him like this."
"Can I…" Jackson paused. He really did admire her bravery. Her coming forward like this was incredibly courageous. But he still needed to ask. "Can I show this to the others? I think it can help convince some of them to come forward too." Cassandra had already been waffling; this was sure to get her on the record, and there were a couple other girls he thought he might be able to convince as well.
"Yeah," she agreed, looking down at her hands where she was nervously picking at her cuticles. "Yeah, that's...fine."
"And," he hesitated. "You realize that Logan is going to have to know about this too, right?"
She let out a sigh and bit her lip. She didn't answer right away but eventually she nodded anyway. "Like I said, everyone is going to see it soon enough, right?" she shrugged.
Finn squeezed her shoulder and bent down to give her a kiss on top of her head. "It's going to be fine," he assured her, rubbing her back soothingly. There were tears pooling in her eyes and she looked like she was going to be sick.
"Rory…" Jackson began, with concern in his voice…concern about more than one thing, he was loathe to admit.
"I'm sure," she nodded, reading his mind. "I promise, I'm not going to change my mind."
He looked from her, over to the room that was set up as an office. He needed to get to work on this right away. This was a major breakthrough, but if what Logan had told Finn earlier was true, they still had very limited time to pull this off. "I need to make a copy of this." He pointed at the letter. He started to stand but then he stopped and looked at her. "Are you going to be okay?"
She nodded, and from over her head Finn gave him a look to let him know he'd take care of Rory. Jackson picked up the letter but there was one more thing he had to do before he got to work. "Thank you, Rory," he told her. "This is huge. Just..thank you."
AN: So there you have it friends, Chase's smoking gun has finally been revealed. As far as I know, no one figured out what it was but if YOU suspected and didn't let me know in a review, I would love to hear from you about it. Feel free to gloat. And if you want to refresh your memory about the letter in question you can head back to chapter 22 a take a read. As always, please leave a review and let me know what you think of this chapter and/or this story as a whole. I really appreciate it (as do those other author's whose works you love to read.)