A special thanks to our fantastic beta, paulanka! This story would not be what it is without her.


Not Even Wishes: Chapter 2

Rory entered the room silently and almost hesitantly. She closed her eyes the second she stepped inside, still not sure she wanted to see Logan this way. She swayed slightly, then caught herself--she needed to be here, for him. Colin and Finn were sitting on either side of his bed, both silent, staring anywhere but at Logan's face—their hands, the floor, the curtains, Logan's feet—and she was struck with a realization that they loved him, too; just as much as she did, maybe more.

The boys looked up when she made a noise to announce her presence. They looked beyond just scared; their faces were a mixture of guilt, worry, and sheer terror, and it shook Rory to the core to see Colin's red-rimmed eyes and the dried tears streaking Finn's face. The question hung, unspoken, between the three of them. Would Logan be okay? Rory wouldn't allow herself to think otherwise at the moment.

Finn stood and nodded to Colin, who did the same. "Why don't we leave you alone with him, love? We'll be right outside."

She smiled gratefully at them and took a seat in the chair next to the bed. Once again, she took Logan's hand in both her own. She started speaking to him, hoping he could hear her, telling him everything—how she was sorry for sending him off the way she did, and how much she loved him—how stupid he was for attempting to do what he did—how much she hated him for getting hurt—how scared she was the he wouldn't be okay—and anything that came to her mind—except, of course, her recent trip to Philly. Jess' words kept circling in her mind—she didn't have to figure everything out and she had him if she needed.

Rory didn't know how long she sat there pouring out everything she was feeling, but by the time she was finally interrupted by Finn's reappearance, she had long since shifted her focus to Logan's face, swallowing her fear—she couldn't talk to his hands and feet any longer. The light coming in through the windows had changed, shifting the shadows and bathing the room in a golden glow that would have been beautiful, had it not been a hospital room.

"Hey," he said, rapping lightly on the door as he opened it.

Rory looked up from Logan's bed and her back cracked as she moved. "Hey." She twisted in her chair, stretching her neck and back muscles. "Wow—I must have been sitting like that for a long time." She stood up and stretched her arms, shaking loose the tension that had settled in her joints. "How long have you guys been gone?"

Finn looked at his wrist, which was minus a watch. "I actually have no idea," he said. "Colin's out making the rest of the phone calls now—he called Mitchum and Shira a few hours ago, and I think he's calling Honor and Josh now."

Rory grimaced. "I don't envy him that at all," she said with a wry half-smile.

"Why do you think I let him take care of it, love?" Finn asked. "I don't want to be on the business end of one of Mitchum's lectures on responsibility and taking too many stupid risks and wasting time. Colin's more polite than I am. He'll pretend to listen, whereas I, my friend, would yell obscenities in his ear and then hang up the phone."

Rory laughed quietly, then turned serious, looking at Finn's rumpled clothing, the bags under his eyes, and his hands, which were still trembling slightly. "How are you doing? Have you gotten any sleep? Had any food?"

Finn sighed. "I'm awake and breathing, aren't I? Can't ask for much more than that."

Rory had no idea how to answer that, but fortunately, she was saved from the awkwardness by Colin's arrival. "I am never talking voluntarily to Mitchum Huntzberger again," he burst out, entering the room in a rage.

"That bad?" Finn asked, his comment noticeably void of a sharp, witty comeback.

"Worse," Colin spat, rubbing his temples.

"Are any of the family coming?" Rory asked, not sure which answer she wanted to hear more—for her own sake, she would gladly avoid any interactions with Logan's parents; for his sake, she wanted them to be there to support him in the ways they had never mastered for the first 23 years of his life.

"Honor and Josh are," Colin said simply, and all three of them were silent again as the ramifications of that statement hit them again. A surge of white hot anger flashed through Rory—anger at Logan for being so stupid as to get hurt so badly, anger at herself for letting him leave in the middle of a fight, anger at Mitchum and Shira for not bothering to come immediately—and she didn't know who to be most upset with. Trouble was, there was no one to take something like this out on. There was no one to blame, and the enormity of the situation hit her again. Funny how it did that whenever she started thinking too much.

"I'm going to walk around for a while; maybe get something to eat," she said, grabbing her purse. "Are you two okay to stay here? I'll be back in twenty minutes, max, and I'll take my phone with me—I can be back here right away if anything happens."

Colin gestured towards the door with his head. "Go. You've been in here for at least four hours; you need a break."

Rory and Finn looked at each other and grinned slightly. Leave it to Colin to keep track of the time, even in the middle of something like this.

"Hey, Rory?" Colin stopped her walk to the door.

She turned around. "Yeah?"

He closed the gap between them and enveloped her in a warm, brotherly hug. "He's lucky to have you," he said, the words slightly muffled, his voice cracking on the last word.

At his simple statement, tears filled her eyes again—today, she was turning into nothing more than a walking tear duct—and she began to shake against him, letting the fear and worry overwhelm her once again. Finn stepped towards them and wrapped his arms awkwardly around both her shoulders and Colin's, and the three stood there, holding each other up for several minutes, until Rory finally pulled away, wiping her eyes.

"Okay, I need food," she stated, trying to regain her composure. "I'll be back soon." She left the room, trying to ignore the fact that everywhere she walked, she was breathing in the scent of medicine and antiseptic and injury and sickness—going to the cafeteria for a snack wasn't an escape at all, but she could pretend with the best of them. As she walked, she pulled her phone out of her purse, checking to see if her mother had called. There were three missed calls—two from Lorelai, and one from an unfamiliar number—and she dialled the code for her voice mail.

"Hey babe," she heard her mother's voice say. "Your dad left me a note and told me the basics. Call me when you get a chance—and... I hope Logan's okay." There was a long pause. "I really do, hon. Call me if you need anything."

Rory pressed '9' to save the message, and then the mechanical voice informed her that the second message had been left only twenty minutes ago.

"Rory." It was Jess' voice, a fact which took Rory by surprise. It wasn't a number she recognized as one of his—he must have called from the office as soon as he got to work. "Just wanted to make sure you're dealing okay—the first few hours have probably been a huge shock; I didn't want you to have a meltdown or something. You're in New York, right? Which hospital? Maybe I can give you a list of coffee shops nearby. I did live there long enough to find some good ones—contrary to popular belief, not everything I did there was illegal and destructive." She can hear the smirk in his voice. "Remember—I'm still here if you need me." The message ended without a goodbye, and Rory pressed '1' to hear it again, a tiny smile playing at the corners of her lips as she walked into the cafeteria.

She tasted the coffee she had gotten from the machine, and grimaced at the bitterness. It wasn't the good kind of bitterness that was usually associated with coffee... this brown liquid (if you could even call it liquid) bore almost no resemblance to coffee. She grabbed something resembling pound cake from the line, after a moment, grabbed two more and handed the cashier some the money. Rory sat down at an empty table, rubbing her temples. Hospitals were never her favorite place to be—she only remembered being in a hospital three times before. Once was when Richard had collapsed at the Christmas party. Wow...she hadn't thought about that night in years. She remembered how scared she had been that night—well, she thought to herself, that night had nothing on this one. At least Richard had been conscious and alert. Against her will, her eyes welled up again. Please let him be okay, she prayed. She wasn't a religious person—not by a long shot—but at this point, she would try anything.

This really sucks, Rory thought to herself as she ate the tasteless cake. Bad coffee, bad cake, bad night. Well, "bad night" was an understatement, to say the least. She almost physically ached to feel Logan's arms around her, wanting to rest her head on his chest, craving his comfort and support, and she laughed aloud at the irony of the thought. She rubbed her tired eyes and searched through her purse for some Tylenol or something. Predictably, she came up empty. Why don't I ever have anything useful in this thing?

The air in the cafeteria was almost worse than it was upstairs. No, scratch that. It was definitely worse than it was upstairs. Bad food and antiseptic should never be smelled in the same whiff. Balancing her coffee and her cakes, Rory went outside to get some fresh air. She perched on a small ledge and put down the food, and opened her phone, pressing her speed dial for Lorelai's cell phone.

Lorelai picked up on the first ring. "Rory, I'm glad you called...what's going on? How is he?"

"He's... unconscious. The doctors won't really tell us anything..." Rory didn't really feel like having this conversation, but she knew her mother was worried for her, and she didn't want another person to be more upset than necessary. "I'll probably be here for a few days. I'll check in with you... I should get back up there."

"Of course, hon. Call me if you need me." Lorelai paused, then added, "I'm sure he'll be fine, kid."

Rory felt the tears threaten to start up again. "I'll talk to you later, Mom." She hung up the phone and sniffled hard. She couldn't cry again, not now, not yet. She opened her voicemail again, playing Jess' message once more and she felt a wave of warmth over her as she listened to his voice. Tucking her phone away, she straightened up and prepared to go back inside.

She found Colin in the hall on his phone, standing next to the "no cell phones" sign. Rory touched his arm gently and he gave her a tight smile. "Yes, New York Presbyterian," he was telling the person on the other end of the phone. She motioned toward the room, indicating that she was going inside, and he nodded, holding up one finger in the universal "just a minute" sign.

Finn sat in the chair by the bed, leaning back with his feet resting on the guardrail. "So you are a crucial element for my next party, and you can't be a part of it from here," he was saying. Rory couldn't help but smile as she walked up to them and placed a hand on Finn's shoulder, glad that at least one of them was finally looking a little more normal.

"Did you at least have fun for a while?" she asked. She didn't know why, but it was very important to know that Logan had at least enjoyed himself before... Before what? she berated herself. He will wake up..."This isn't the end!" she blurted without thinking. Finn looked up at her with understanding in his eyes as she clapped a hand over her mouth and dropped her head. "I didn't mean to say that," she groaned.

"I know, love," he soothed, leaning further back in the chair, tipping it on the back two legs. Rory kept expecting him to fall on his back, but he caught his balance smoothly just before the chair fell all the way over.

"How is he?" she asked, taking the seat on the opposite side of the bed from Finn.

"Regaling me with all the intimate details of your sex life," he deadpanned, waggling his eyebrows at her suggestively, sending them both into gales of hysterical, tension-releasing laughter that made Rory feel better than she had all day

"Any change here?" Colin asked, entering the room and looking immediately hopeful as he took in their raucous laughter.

Rory took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself, and ran a finger under her eyes to stop them from watering before she answered. "Apparently he's been talking to Finn."

"Sex life?" Colin asked, bumping Finn's shoulder with his elbow.

Finn just leaned back in the chair again, crossed his hands behind his head, and grinned smugly. "I know more than you ever will, my friend," he said.

"And that's something you're proud of?" Rory retorted, crossing her arms indignantly over her chest, levelling each of them with a serious glare, which each boy returned, matching her stare for stare until she couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing again. "Seriously, guys—can you not discuss my sex life anymore? At least, wait until I've left the room, okay?"

"Whatever you say, love," Finn said, lowering an imaginary pair of sunglasses from on top of his head and pretending to look at her over the rims.

Rory groaned. "Smack him for me please, Colin," she said. "I can't move." She sunk deeper into the chair, trying to get comfortable. "What time is it?" she asked.

Colin checked his watch as he settled into the third chair. "Almost nine," he said.

"In the morning," Finn added, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "I didn't know that there was more than one of these in a day."

"Longest seven hours of my life," Rory muttered, leaning her head back, her eyelids starting to droop.

Their conversation slowed to a comment here and there, and then stopped altogether as they shifted in their chairs, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. The distraction of laughter gone, each of them was consumed again with thoughts, their fears coming back to haunt them. Rory could hear Colin shifting, and Finn cleared his throat a few too many times to be just a cough, and she wondered if it was even worth it to try and sleep. If the nightmares she could feel nipping at her heels caught up with her, it would be better to stay awake—to try and chase away the haunting, disjointed images with conversation and distraction. Finally her blinks became longer, and her eyes drifted shut, and although she didn't feel truly rested, the nap served its purpose, and she felt a small measure of escape, at least for a few hours.