The cold, uninviting, grey walls and concrete floor should have been gloomy and depressing, but they weren't. In fact, as the correctional officer led him down the hallway to the row of awaiting blue chairs positioned in front of partitioned off plexiglass barriers, Logan felt downright gleeful; he felt free…for the first time in possibly ever, here in this jail, he felt free. He knew Mitchum wouldn't stay behind bars. Not today—possibly not ever, even with Rory pressing charges. Proving charges of domestic violence against a rich and powerful man was an uphill battle at best.

But regardless of Mitchum's legal fate, he knew the man's life as he knew it was over. His reptation, his career, his influence…they would never be the same. And that dark, sinister shadow that had presided over Logan's entire existence thus far, was rapidly dissolving into hope and light. Logan had won…and Mitchum had lost.

And so, as he took a seat in the chair across from the fallen man he had once wanted so badly to emulate, he smiled with the knowledge that he escaped such a fate.

Logan picked up the phone receiver, and Mitchum did the same.

"So," Mitchum greeted, his face inscrutable. "You did it. I have to say, I didn't think you had it in you."

"You always did underestimate me."

Mitchum nodded, his lips pursed together thoughtfully. "It appears so. I must admit, I'm actually impressed. Tell me, how does it feel?"

"Taking you down?" Logan asked for clarification.

"Mmhmm."

Logan chuckled, leaning forward conspiratorially. "Fan-freaking-tastic."

Mitchum smiled, a jovial smile with empty eyes that sent a shiver down Logan's spine despite his positive assertation just moments ago.

"Indeed," Mitchum replied with a chuckle. "I felt that way my first time too."

"Your first time?" Logan questioned.

"The first time I destroyed somebody," he replied mater-of-factly, "The first time I ruined a life. The first time I destroyed everything it had taken a man a lifetime to build. I felt 'fan-freaking-tastic. Powerful…unstoppable." Mitchum shrugged. "It was nice while it lasted. But you know what they say…all good things must come to an end."

An uncomfortable churning feeling swirled in his gut at the implication, but Logan pushed it down. It wasn't true, Mitchum was just playing his mind games; it was the only offensive move the man had left. "Nice try," Logan scoffed, "But I'm nothing like you."

"Really?" Mitchum's eyebrows arched curiously. "Could have fooled me. After all, you have my name, my nose, my aptitude for investigative journalism. Hell, you even have my girl. How is Rory, by the way? Still as cloyingly needy as always?"

"Don't talk about her," Logan snarled.

"Ooh," Mitchum faked a pained face. "Trouble in paradise so soon? You know, if you're struggling now, it's only going to get worse when the spotlight turns on the two of you. Which it will, of course once the article and that letter come out. Why do you think we kept our relationship under wraps all this time? I wanted to protect her from all that scrutiny and ugly gossip."

"Oh please," Logan scoffed, "you never gave a damn about her. You never gave a damn about anyone but yourself. That's the difference between you and me. I may be happy to see you go down, but it's not because I enjoy seeing other people suffer, it's because I want a better life for the people I care about, and their lives are better without you in it. So don't pretend you ever wanted what was best for Rory. She was never anything to you but a prop to stroke your fragile ego."

"Oh," Mitchum imparted a mocking laugh, "she was good at stroking alright."

"You are disgusting."

"Just the way your girlfriend likes 'em."

"Enough!" Logan stood up, slamming the hand that wasn't holding the phone onto the stainless-steel counter in front of him and leaning forward angrily. "I'm done. I'm done with you and everything you stand for. I'm done with your manipulation and your mind games. I'm done feeling like I will never be enough when I am ten times the man you have ever been. And I am done letting you ruin every good thing in my life" Logan straightened up and shook his head with a mirthless chuckle. He was so done. If he really wanted to be free of Mitchum Huntzberger, it wasn't enough to have him out of his life—he needed him to be out of his head too. There was no space in it for that harsh, cynical voice telling him the only way to win was to make others loose; the only way not to be a failure was to be the most powerful man in the room; the only way to be happy was with more money and more success. He was done letting Mitchum Huntzberger play any role in his choices or life outcomes; consciously or subconsciously. "Maybe Rory and I work out, maybe we don't. But I can promise you this, whatever happens between us, it won't have anything to do with you. And while you are looking forward to a future all alone with no one to distract you from everything you've lost, I will be living my best life with the people I love. I will be celebrating career milestones, Penny's first birthday, friend's weddings, Christmas' with Honor and Josh. And I will be doing it all without sparing you so much as a thought. I don't need your approval, or your praise. I am done trying to live up to your expectations of what I should be. I am done with you."

Mitchum's face remained completely impassive as his eyes traveled slowly up and down. "If you're really so done with me, then what exactly did you come here for?"

Logan paused, letting the words sink in. Why had he come? To revel in his triumph? To gloat? To hear Mitchum tell him he'd won? Maybe there was a little piece of him that had wanted that; a part of him that had actually felt a sense of pride when Mitchum had said that he was impressed. But as he stood there in front of the pathetic shell of a man he had once called 'Dad,' he realized that Mitchum had always been nothing but a shell; a veneer of confidence and success over an empty vessel. Mitchum was nothing; what did Logan care what he thought?

"You know what?" Logan nodded slowly. "You're right. I wasn't done. That's why I came. To get closure. And you know what? I have it now." Mitchum started to say something, but Logan didn't even register it. "Goodbye, Mitchum. Have a nice life." He hung up the phone and walked away.

The pleasant mass of the weighted blanket pressed down on him, warm and snug. His head was perfectly cradled in a soft cocoon of down and silk. He felt a heat radiating from his left-hand side and he could sense the blue eyes of the man he loved gazing down upon him. Love. He still couldn't believe he'd said that. But the way that Finn had calmed him in the midst of his panic, the way that he'd offered to just sit there with him, the way he had assured him he was safe…For the first time in weeks he finally felt safe; sheltered, protected. Finn wouldn't let anything happen to him. Finn was his safe port in the storm. And this wasn't just a storm, it was a white squall.

With Finn by his side, he had managed to make it through the phone call with a respectable level of professionalism and poise, even when Mitchum had spewed hateful, homophobic slurs at him. Even when he had brought up his father. Jackson had been prepared for his vitriol. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt. Mitchum was a pro at knowing exactly how to get under someone's skin. And Jackson's father was always a surefire way to get under his skin. But Finn had just given his thigh a gentle, reassuring squeeze and Jackson had found himself centered enough to get his response out without spiraling into another full-on panic attack. And when it was over, Finn had gotten him a glass of wine to help calm his nerves and ordered him food from his favorite Italian place in the neighborhood. Jackson hadn't eaten a real meal all week; it felt good to put some actual sustenance in his stomach. But not as good as it felt to sleep. A real, deep sleep—not the fitful tossing and turning of a man haunted by fear. It was strange because it was the first night that Mitchum knew enough to pose any real threat to him, and yet it was the first night that the specter of Mitchum Huntzberger hadn't felt like it was hanging over his head.

So now, waking up here with Finn by his side, he wouldn't say everything was good, but it was clear just how much better he made it; how much more tolerable even the worst things in life were.

"What's with the staring?" he mumbled turning in the direction of his boyfriend and opening his eyes. Finn was shirtless, lying on his side with his head propped up in his hand, smiling down at him. Jackson felt a tug of stimulation at his center. He loved Finn's smile; the slightly crooked way the right side rose higher than the left. And he didn't mind the bare-chested part of him either.

Finn reached out to caress his thumb over Jackson's cheek. "Just wondering who this rugged, handsome stranger in my bed is."

Mortification and giddiness warred inside of him. He pushed down the desire to bury his face in his hands and hide the unruly scruff that had taken over his cheeks and chin in the past week. He probably looked like an insane hobo. "Ruggedly handsome, ey?" he asked, puffing out his chest with an assuredness he did not feel.

"Oh yeah. If I didn't have a boyfriend, I would have never been able to control myself around such raw, masculine sexuality."

"What can I say?" Jackson shrugged the shoulder that wasn't nestled underneath him, "It's a natural gift."

"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Goldilocks? Looking for a bed that's just right?"

"I needed a place to hide out," Jackson replied, keeping his voice low and raspy. "I'm kind of a wanted man."

"Ooh, danger and intrigue. I find that very hot in strange men who wake up in my bed. My boyfriend might need to start worrying."

"He's not here," Jackson continued to play along, pushing himself up so his lips were hovering just in front of Finn's. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him." He completed the kiss, lowering his lips passionately to Finn's and letting his hand graze along his bare chest. Dear god, those pecs were impeccable. One of the many benefits of dating an independently wealthy man; not having to work meant plenty of time for working out.

He pushed Finn onto his back, letting his hands and his tongue continue to explore. Finn's hand wound its way into his hair, deepening the kiss. "Jackson," he breathed out as Jackson pushed himself up to straddle his boyfriend. The last few weeks had been tough, but today was a whole new day, and he was going to start it with a bang.

Jackson collapsed back into the mattress with a contented sigh. "Damn," he exclaimed as the post sex serenity washed over him.

Finn chuckled. "Always good to hear my work was appreciated."

"I just really needed that." Jackson had gone far longer than a week and a half without sex before, but not since meeting Finn. And considering what a week and a half it had been—the outlet for all that pent up energy had been beyond crucial.

"You and me both, Tiger," Finn replied. "You realize this whole monogamy thing means when you're not having sex, I'm not having sex."

"Your sacrifice is appreciated," Jackson replied with a contented smile.

"Well, it was for a noble cause, and I'm very magnanimous that way."

They laid in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Jackson knew he had to get up soon. He still needed to call Peterson for comment. And he wanted to try Mitchum again even though he knew he wouldn't get passed the receptionist. But at least he could say he'd made the effort to get his side of the story. But it was so hard to move when he was so relaxed and comfortable for the first time in weeks.

"Hey," Finn finally broke the silence. Jackson felt him turn on his side and push himself up on his elbow to look down at him, just like he had been when Jackson had first woken. Only this time Jackson could sense an intensity that had been lacking half an hour ago. An uneasy sensation pushed its way through the peaceful haze he'd been experiencing.

"Hmm?" he replied.

"I just thought…umm, you know…maybe we should…talk." Shit. Finn never got flustered or tongue tied. That did not inspire confidence. Not that he was confident to begin with.

"Oh?" Jackson replied. He remained on his back, eyes closed, trying to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible as he played dumb. He wasn't any more ready for this talk than he was last night. "What about?"

"Jax…" Finn scolded, sitting the rest of the way up in bed.

Jackson sighed, opening his eyes with reluctance, and sitting up to meet his boyfriend. "Look, it's not a big deal," he insisted, crossing his arms over his chest. "I was having a panic attack. I was out of my mind."

"Oh, I see." Finn turned away slightly, the prickle of offense in his voice on clear display. "So, you didn't mean it."

"That's not what I'm saying." Of course he meant it. He'd woken up unable to think about anything else other than how much he meant it; even though it was too soon, even though they were absurdly different people, even though their relationship thus far had taken place under entirely unusual circumstances that in no way reflected what real life as a couple would entail.

"So you're pleading an insanity defense because you did mean it?"

"No, I just…you shouldn't feel compelled to respond to the crazy rantings of a sleep deprived, stressed out person. It's too soon, I know that." It hadn't even been three months. That was warp speed under any circumstances. And he knew this was all new to Finn. He'd never been in love before…never even been in a relationship. He knew it was unreasonable to expect Finn to be there with him…and he didn't. He didn't expect anything. That's why he told him not to respond after the words had come spilling out of him last night; he knew he'd put him on the spot with his declaration and he didn't want him to feel pressured to say something he didn't mean. But he also wasn't in a place to hear Finn tell him boldly and definitively that he didn't love him. Either way it would have messed him up even more and he'd needed a clear head to get through that phone call. He never should have said anything in the first place, but it had just slipped out, unbidden.

"Too soon for you, or too soon for me?" Finn demanded

"Huh?"

"Is it 'too soon,'" Finn air quoted the words, "because you didn't mean it? Or is it 'too soon' because you think it's going to scare me off?"

"Look," Jackson said, starting to pull the covers off of himself to make a hasty exit. If it wasn't clear, he really didn't want to be having this conversation. He knew he'd brought it on himself, but he had enough stress going on in his life right now without adding this to the mix. "Can't we just forget about this? Just forget I said it." Jackson threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, pulling on his boxers that were on the floor.

"Where are you going?" Finn got out of bed, intercepting his path to the bedroom door.

"I have work to do."

"We're not done."

"It's fine, I told you last night, you don't need to respond."

"And last night I didn't."

"Finn," Jackson groaned.

"Did you mean it?" He wasn't going to let this go.

"Of course I meant it," Jackson exploded. "I love you! Okay? I love you."

Finn nodded his head, his demeanor annoyingly calm and collected. "I've never been in love before."

"Yeah, I get that, which is why…"

Finn held up a finger to stop him. "I'm speaking now."

Jackson let out a breath, his shoulders slumping and his eyes squeezing shut. Apparently he was going to get a response whether he wanted one or not. When he opened his eyes again, Finn was staring at him, unblinking. "I've never been in love before," he repeated. "So, I guess my first thought was…'how the hell do I even know?' I mean, it's not like I have anything to compare it too. And honestly, I always thought love was more of an illusion that anything. I mean, who would want to limit themselves that way? They must just be fooling themselves into believing this great, societal, brainwashing fairy tale."

"Wow, romantic," Jackson deadpanned.

"Did I say I was finished?"

"No," he looked away, duly scolded. Finn very rarely took anything too seriously, but when he did, he made it clear he meant business. Jackson found it strangely chastening yet kind of sexy.

Finn's face softened and he took a step closer, reaching a hand up to cradle Jackson's face. "After you fell asleep last night, I stayed up for hours, just watching you." Jackson bit his lip self-consciously at the confession. "I couldn't stop thinking about what you said."

"Finn." He once again found himself silenced by a finger to the lips.

"I couldn't stop thinking about how much I missed seeing you these past couple weeks. Or about how worried I was for you; about how terrified I was when I thought of you making that call last night; about what I would do if something happened to you. I couldn't stop thinking about how proud I am of you for seeing this through; or about how much you care about making a real difference…to these women…to the world." Jackson's heart constricted and he felt an aching sensation budding around the back of his eyes. Could this really be going where it sounded like it was going? "You consume me, Jackson Andrews. Maybe it has been quick. Maybe I don't have anything to compare it to. But I know that I hate the mere thought of being without you. And I know that you inspire me. I know that my life is better now that you're in it. And if that's not love, then I have no idea what all those books and movies could possibly be talking about. Because this…" he motioned back and forth between them. "This is a fairy tale."

Despite his best efforts, a tear slipped from Jackson's lid, tracing down his cheek. Finn brushed it away with his thumb. "So, I guess what I'm trying to say is that…I love you too." The tears were coming more steadily now, and as Finn sealed his declaration with a kiss, Jackson knew he could probably taste the saltiness of his lacrimation but he didn't care; he didn't care about anything but the man in front of him—the man he loved…who loved him back.

They stayed in their embrace for a bit, just reveling in the moment. "There's something else I have to tell you," Finn admitted after a minute.

"Mmmm?" Jackson mumbled.

"You're not allowed to be mad at me," he hedged. Jackson pulled back, the tranquil expression on his face morphing into a glare of suspicion. "You know, because we're in love and all."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything." Finn held his hands up innocently. "I'm just the messenger."

"Oh god." The messenger? The messenger of what? Did Mitchum do something? Did one of the women pull out? Did the story get scooped? His heart started racing, his jaw clenching instinctively.

"No, it's not bad…" Finn quickly course corrected.

"You just said…"

"Because I didn't tell you right away…" he explained.

"Oh." He felt his panic abate slightly but the lingering effects remained. He still wasn't entirely sure where Finn was going with this. "Ooookay…

"I probably should have told you this first thing but I knew you were going to try to avoid the other conversation as it was and once I told you this, there was no way I was going to have your attention."

Jackson felt a small smile pull at the corner of his lips. "And you wanted allllllll my attention," he teased.

"Damn straight," Finn agreed. "I haven't had it in forever."

"What happened?"

"Logan called this morning."

Jackson rolled his eyes. He'd been more than capable of piecing that together. "And?"

"And Mitchum was arrested last night…"

"What?!"

"For showing up at Honor's in violation of their restraining orders."

"Oh my god!"

"His arraignment is at 2."

"On the Island?"

Finn nodded. "Nassau County District Court—it's in Hempstead." Jackson's eyes darted to the clock on the nightstand. It was almost 11.

"I have to go back to my place to get changed." He had clothes at Finn's but nothing appropriate for court. "I have to check the train schedule…get to Penn." His hands shot up to his face. "I have to shave!"

"Damn," Finn replied playfully. "I kind of like the lumbersexual look."

Jackson just rolled his eyes and shook his head, as he started gathering up his clothes. Once he was dressed his stopped for a moment to address Finn. "I'll be back tonight?"

"You better be."

"I might need to do some work…final edits on the article," he was mumbling as he made his way out of the bedroom. "I'll have to call Peterson for comment on the way…Fuck, there's not enough time," he spun around to face Finn. "You should have told me earlier. I'm mad at you."

"You're not allowed to be…remember?" Finn informed him with a crooked, contrite smile that made Jackson's heart melt. Damn that smile. "On account of how I love you."

"Nice try," Jackson chuckled waving a finger reproachfully before turning and reaching for the knob of the front door.

"One more thing." Finn reached out to grab his hand, and turn Jackson to face him one more time.

"I think you've had enough 'one more's…" He was silenced with a kiss.

"Go get 'em, Tiger."

For as organized as Rory was in most of her life, there was one place that her perfectionist tendencies seemed to completely disappear. She wasn't sure what it was about her purse that made it so completely untethered to all the rules of her universe, but reaching inside of it was like reaching inside a portable sized, leather TARDIS. The interior seemed to go on for eternity and anytime something went in, there was no guarantee it wouldn't get lost somewhere in the far corners of space-time. She searched frantically through the seemingly endless mess inside for a pen and paper to write down the new story idea she'd had, finally finding it just as the subway car pulled into a station, knocking her off balance so that she bumped into the woman sitting next to her.

"Sorry," she mumbled apologetically. The woman just shrugged her off and went back to her paper.

Rory sighed, opening up the notebook of personalized stationery her mother had gotten her as a present…the one that had the header "From the Desk of Rory Gilmore," and jotted a few notes down as the car filled with new passengers. She wouldn't have time to work on her new idea today; she was headed into the office to tie up a bunch of loose ends and then planned to high tail it back to Stars Hollow this evening before the article went to print tomorrow. She'd have plenty of time to write over the next few days while she was hiding out in her mother's house; writing was always a good distraction for her, so she didn't want to forget her spark of inspiration.

As the train started to move again, Rory couldn't help the strange creeping sensation up the back of her neck like she was being watched. But this was New York, she was no stranger to being leered at on the subway; it was usually best to ignore it, making eye contact with the culprit only made it worse. She only had one more stop to go anyway.

The anticipation of her pending relief built as the subway once again started to slow, pulling into 14th St. Station. She felt the eyes again but this time she realized they were coming from the seat neighbor she'd bumped into earlier. Was she the one staring all along? Or was Rory just fidgeting more than she realized. Rory glanced to her left at the woman and noticed her eyes flitting from the paper she'd been reading, to Rory's notebook, to Rory's herself. A momentary flash of dread filled Rory, but she shook it off. It was Wednesday. It was definitely Wednesday. Paris had made her go to Krav Maga last night. Rebecca had been mysteriously absent, which Paris took ample opportunity to point out as though there was something innately suspicious about missing a gym class.

Anyway, the point was, it was definitely Wednesday, and the article wasn't coming out until Thursday, so clearly this feeling of being watched was all in her head. The woman was probably just holding a grudge about getting bumped into. She gathered her things and made her way onto the platform and up the stairs to the street.

The entire two block walk to the office, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. She let her eyes glance around her. Was it Mitchum? Did he have eyes on her still? Would he be stupid enough to have her tailed even now? Maybe he still thought he could stop the story from going to print?

Rory quickened her pace, sighing in relief as she pulled open the door to the office building and letting it swing shut behind her. She took the elevator to the floor the housed Skribe Media. As she stepped off the lift and all eyes turned to look at her, it was suddenly very clear that her feelings of being watched were not all in her head.

"Good morning," a photojournalist she barely knew…she was pretty sure his name was Jonathan, greeted. The innate drive not to be rude compelled her to open her mouth and return the greeting, but before she could, Jonathan turned away and under his breath she heard him mumble, "Pooh." Her heart thudded erratically in her chest as her eyes scanned the room around her, searching the table tops until her eyes spotted what she was looking for…a newspaper; an actual print newspaper, the words 'THE NEW YORK EXAMINER' printed in distinctive font along the top. Just below the nameplate was a large color photo of Mitchum and beside it, the headline 'The Predation of Mitchum Huntzberger: The Legendary Misdeeds of a Newspaper Legend.'

Well, shit. So much for Thursday.

AN: Dun, dun, dun...the story is out. And it's out a day early much to Rory's surprise. Finn returned Jackson's ILY, Logan is finally, truly done with his father. Rebecca didn't show up to Krav Maga so I guess she realized she's out of a job. It looks like things are wrapping up nicely-well, okay maybe not for Rory yet. But seeing as there's only one more chapter and an epilogue, they should be looking up for her in no time as well. Anyway, as always, let me know what you think of all these happening and anything else you liked in the chapter. I will most likely work on finishing this story up and then go back to Missing Pages and concentrate on that for a while. I do have my next story in mind, but I want to at least get to the meet of MP before I start something new.