The HPG no longer had a private jet as a part of Logan's plan to reduce the company's unnecessary spending, having increased the amount of web conferencing instead of travel, and making their brand more approachable- However, for this reason Logan had been forced to fly commercial. The one time when the benefits of having a pilot on standby would've actually proved useful there was nothing to be done. Logan was just making his way through Heathrow arrivals, the bright white hallways not really being easy on his eyes, that were already dry and itchy. The flight, while otherwise uneventful, had been nerve wracking, Logan not catching a wink of sleep, having attempted to just spend his hours trying to get some work done. It went without saying that he hadn't been very productive.
He'd just texted Rory that he'd landed, and had just caught the sight of his chauffeur, waiting with a sign that said "Mr. Huntzberger" when his phone buzzed.
He looked at the caller ID and made a 'wait' gesture to the chauffeur with his index finger, halting and turning around momentarily to take the call.
"Honor?" he said, as he picked up.
"Logan, where are you?" Honor sobbed, her sobs mixing with anger.
"Just landed," he replied plainly.
"Mom is dead," she said, barely getting the words out, before bursting into full blown sobs.
Logan let out a deep exhale. His efforts had been in vain. He was too late.
"Honor, I'm sorry," Logan said. "Where are you?" he asked in return, trying to think of how he could now be of help.
The ride to the hospital passed in a dreamlike haze, the familiar M4 he really hadn't missed passing by way too slowly in the Sunday night traffic jam. He felt like he was rushing, but somehow the rushing seemed so needless now. The only live person he was rushing to was his sister. He was too late, though he wouldn't have really known what he would've done if he'd gotten there earlier either.
He had never been close with his mother, he'd frankly despised her for a better part of his life for never truly accepting the woman he loved. But she'd still given birth to him, she'd fought, though perhaps not choosing the best methods, to keep their family in one piece and to give him a childhood that didn't involve their parents fighting over the two of them. While the reality had been less that admirable than that, he did believe that everything she'd done she'd thought was in their best interest. She hadn't been right of course - but people made mistakes, their judgment was faulty - that was what happened. Logan felt a little strange being able to spell out his emotions as well as this, considering how sleep-deprived and in shock he still was. It was almost like now, when she was no longer there, it was much easier to forgive her.
"I'm here to see dr. Oscar Chapman to speak to me about my mother Shira Huntzberger, also I think my sister Honor Rothchild should be around here somewhere," Logan explained, glancing around hoping to catch a sight of her, as he reached the ICU's green and white decorated information desk, and turned to a young looking member of the staff in light blue uniform.
"I'm sorry, I'm just a student, I'll fetch one of the nurses," the red-haired young woman replied hesitantly. Logan had never really bothered to learn the symbolics of the uniforms under the NHS. Even after years of living in London he'd managed fairly well to keep himself in one piece and healthy not to need their services, having learned his lesson after Costa Rica.
"Mr. Huntzberger, my name is Reeva Wilkinson, I'm the lead nurse here," a short haired older woman greeted him. "I'm sorry Dr. Chapman is in surgery right now, but your sister is in the waiting room, waiting room number 4. I'm afraid we have sad news about your mother," she continued to explain. "She was brought in this morning around 8 AM already comatosed. It was likely that she'd been like that for hours already. The toxicology screening showed Benzodiazepines. We did everything in our power, but unfortunately…," the nurse explained.
"Yeah, she died, I know. My sister called," he cut her off. He didn't need to hear it again. "Sorry," he corrected his tone of voice a moment later.
"I'm very sorry for your loss," she replied nonetheless. "This way to the waiting room," the nurse added, leading him down the hall.
"Thank you," he replied, seeing his sister with the paperwork.
"Hey sis," Logan said to her, stepping up and hugging her.
"You can still go and see her, if you'd like. The mortuary has been a little backed up at the moment, she's in room A405," the nurse explained.
"Thank you," Logan repeated.
"Logan.. I…," Honor began, clearly a lot more upset than he was, his arrival having brought on another round of tears. Logan wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugged her firmly. She really hadn't deserved to be here all on her own like this.
"You should go see her," Honor managed to word out after a few minutes.
Logan didn't particularly feel like it, but with the risk of seeming insensitive or perhaps even offending his sister by his words or inaction, he simply nodded, patting her on her shoulder once more assuringly and went to search for the room in question.
The private ICU room was just around the corner, now only lit dimply, most of the additional technology having been moved to where it was more needed. A body lay on the gurney bed a blue sheet drawn over its head. It seemed eerie, but at the same time impersonal. Her mother had never really been quiet, unless of course his father had been speaking or hushed her. He didn't want to look at her, and he didn't, only whispering "I'm sorry I got here late, mom." The statement meant a lot more than just arriving this day.
More than anything feelings of guilt were beginning to float to the surface for him - that he knew about her problem wiht abusing her drugs, and whatever deeper issue that was covering, for not being in touch more - surely all that had been something that would've required intervention, and he had just not done it, as if not caring enough. The miles between them had just provided a convenient excuse. Out of sight, out of mind. That guilt was now what he had to live with.
"I'm so happy for you!" Celeste congratulated Rory the following morning, after her defence, handing her a beautiful bouquet of white tulips and blue irises with a strong, sisterly hug. Rory had already been congratulated by the committee, her supervisor and a few of her coursemates, feeling relieved to see a face with whom she could relax a little after the stressful morning.
"It was nothing, just a formality really," Rory replied modestly. More than anything she was just relieved it was over. Her speech had been well prepared and memorized, and most of the questions she had anticipated, replying to each one professionally, on occasion shooting another humorous hypothetical question towards the person asking it instead. It was academic debate at it's best - at least this was something years of Chilton, Yale and cut-throat journalism had prepared her for - and this was something that seemed to be tattooed to her brain which not even preggo-brain or drifting aimlessly for years could erase.
"Oh, come on! I've done this too, remember! It's not nothing. We're all so proud of you!" she insisted, recalling her own defence and graduation from the Sorbonne ages ago. While she was proud of herself for succeeding in her former career, she now just felt disappointed that there was little she was doing with the skills and knowledge she had - unable to quite find the niche that engaged her enough but at the same time didn't come with the unnecessary publicity to her person.
Rory's phone was already overflowing with texts and missed calls, Celeste having taken a picture of her talking and posted it just after they'd announced her grade, and she looked over the phone briefly, as they were beginning to gather up her stuff to head off.
"Any word from Logan? Celeste asked concernedly. She'd texted him too, but there had been radio silence.
Except for the quick "Knock them dead" text Rory had gotten fifteen minute prior to her defence, she really hadn't heard from Logan since last night when he'd texted that he'd landed, and frankly she was getting a little worried.
Rory shook her head. "Not about Shira at least," she specified, aiming to call him as soon as she got home.
"Hey, why don't you come by for dinner tonight, bring Finny - or don't, you should celebrate a little," Celeste suggested. She assumed that Logan had had plans for her for the evening, and now with his attention elsewhere, she could imagine it feeling a little lonely for her. But she couldn't deny that she was being a little selfish too - she wanted company - a lot of it. Almost feeling like she was stronger with other people around her at this point.
"I love the gesture, really. But is it okay, if I let you know?" Rory said.
"Sure thing, no hurry. I have my session, then in the afternoon I have pilates and then we can just order some take-away or something if you do decide you want to come," Celeste explained, trying to make it sound casual.
"You sound really good, you know," Rory noted a minute later, as they walked down the stairs, Rory holding firmly onto the railing, her balance being a little off
Celeste shrugged with a weak smile - she did feel good, but there were insecurities, and major questions still unresolved, but she could hope it would stay that way.
"Hey, you up for swimming tomorrow with me and Evie?" Celeste asked, as they reached outside, changing the subject.
"Sure, or maybe we should bring Maya or Cathy along and bring Finny as well?" she suggested. She wasn't really sure what she was going to do with the time that she had left before the twins were born. With such a hasty pace for all the previous months, slowing down felt so aimless. The only thing she knew she needed to do was spend time with Finny, as soon he would be getting a lot less attention.
"Why not," Celeste replied cheerily. She took what she could.
Hallam opened the door of the silver Lexus for Rory and she hugged Celeste thanking her for coming. It had been good to have someone there for moral support.
But as Rory took her seat in the car and it drove off, she felt like she had hoped to feel more celebratory somehow - with Logan in London, not knowing how he was doing, she frankly didn't feel much like celebrating. It felt ill-timed somehow. She almost felt like simply snuggling up with Finny as she got home, sensing this way like she was closer to Logan. Of course she was going to call, but that would not really help her to feel less helpless. She was not allowed to fly anymore, so there really was very little she could do from the distance.
Rory had gotten home just in time to put Finny to sleep herself, while Maya offered to make her some lunch. It was especially when he slept, that Finny reminded her so much of Logan - the blond hair and the way his eyebrows and wide mouth relaxed as he dozed off - he clearly was his father's son.
She pulled herself up by holding onto the dresser, with a deep withheld groan, the low chair by Finny's bed being more and more uncomfortable for her. Instead of going upstairs to check on the food, despite her stomach demanding to be fed, she went to her bedroom, taking a seat to sit, legs crossed, on their bed and pulled out her phone.
Logan picked up after the third ring.
"Hey, Ace! Congrats! I'm so proud of you, I wish I could've been there," he began, having seen the picture Celeste posted of her in her beautiful red wrap dress, accenting her bump, with a black open front blazer, looking ready to 'wow' them. He wanted to at least try to not ruin her day, hence he'd delayed telling her his news. He didn't particularly want to share to news now, knowing that would require some deeper explaining on how he was feeling - and at the moment he was just sort of numb.
"Hey, thanks," she replied, letting the silence linger for a while.
All she could hear in the phone was Logan breathing, and that didn't sound particularly promising.
"How is she?" Rory asked, hesitantly.
"She's gone," he let out a deep exhale.
"Oh..," Rory breathed out. There was a moment of silence. "I'm so sorry Logan," she added.
"Yeah," he said, not really knowing what to add.
"What happened?" Rory asked, still not knowing the whole story.
"Xanax, alcohol, something else too probably," he listed. "Her maid found her in the morning, unconscious. The prognosis was bad to begin with, and her organs just shut down. Honor was there when she passed. She'd been taking it pretty hard," Logan explained. He couldn't really recall the last time Honor or he himself had said anything positive about their mother, making it even more difficult to really comprehend. Feeling indifferent, relieved, really wasn't what he was supposed to be feeling, especially when his sister was feeling so much more.
"And you?" Rory asked.
"Adjusting," he sighed. "I don't know… I feel sort of numb actually, guilty more than anything else," he added.
"It wasn't your fault," Rory replied, understanding well why he might be feeling the latter. The distance was dreadful, Rory simply wanting to hold him right then.
"Uh-uh," he muttered, not entirely convinced of it but he appreciated her saying it.
They talked a little longer, Logan explaining the prognosis of most likely being back in the US in a few days time, and having to organize a funeral. Thankfully his mother had most of her wishes written out since the first scare Mitchum had had with his heart, both of them making the precautionary preparations. There really wasn't much for Logan to organize really - just signing off to the body to be transported back to the States, and approving on the actions the Newkirk Funeral Home in Hartford was taking on, including informing everybody she wanted to be informed and wanting to placed in the family mausoleum despite the divorce. He'd called his father too, but as expected he hadn't really shown much emotion, though he didn't really buy it.
As they disconnected the call Rory headed upstairs, texting Celeste that she wasn't feeling up for celebrating due to the changed situation - it seemed just inappropriate now, having just agreed to meet with her tomorrow. The kids didn't need to suffer because of what had happened after all.
Logan, on the other hand, was just looking for distractions and while he waited for the Savoy's concierge, that he knew well, to get him a set of jogging clothes, he typed up a press release titled, "Lorelai Huntzberger successfully defended thesis on journalistic education", leaving the announcement on his mother for another day. He wasn't going to let Shira steal Rory's thunder, not even now.
