AN: Previously on Worlds Together...Logan and Rory headed to Monte Carlo with the gang for spring break. The sexual tension between the two hit new heights and a slightly inebriated Rory made a move on Logan. He stopped her before things got too out of hand but Rory felt humiliated by what she had done. Logan, however, took it as a sign that he was mature enough to handle a relationship with Rory. With the help of Steph he was able to get Rory alone and convince her to give them a shot. Their shot didn't last very long, however. When Rory got home she made the decision to go to Yale. When she told the supposedly good news to Logan, he confessed that he wasn't going to Yale; instead he was going to take the year off to sail around the world with his friends. Rory, understandably, didn't take the news too well and broke up with him.

And that, my friends is where I left you all hanging from the cliff 8 months ago. Aren't I wonderful ;) So with that said, enjoy chapter 22 of WT.

The sun was starting to set, casting an orange glow over the calm blue expanse of the South Pacific Ocean. A cool breeze lapped over the tanned, exposed skin of his upper half, drying the sweat on his back from the heat of the late afternoon sun. But Logan couldn't enjoy the weather or the scenery. His buzz was wearing off, leaving him with the unmistakable signs of a hangover—pounding headache, gut-wrenching nausea. He let his head droop between his knees. He desperately wanted another drink, but sadly, the entire supply of liquor was currently making its way to the ocean floor along with the rest of their possessions and the yacht that had stored them. Besides, he highly doubted the nice, heavily armed men transporting them to Jakarta would look kindly on any further imbibing, especially since he and his friends were all currently handcuffed and being arrested for boating while intoxicated and crashing into an Indonesian Coast Guard vessel.

Yep, today Logan Huntzberger was as big of a screw up as his father always told him he was. Not that it was much of a surprise. He'd been screwing up for years and he'd never really cared before—after all, there was always someone there to bail him out of his mess. And this time, there would undoubtedly be someone there again. Probably his sister, since she was the one person in his family who could actually be counted on to do something because she cared about him and not because she wanted to cover up any scandal that could be used as slander against the great Huntzberger name. But despite the inevitable bailing out, somehow this time felt different.

Maybe it was because this time he actually felt like a screw up. To tell the truth, he'd been feeling like a screw up for months. This trip was supposed to be fun—a chance to put off the realities of adulthood for another year and just let loose and be a kid. But instead of feeling like a carefree adventure, it mostly just felt like running away. He was Peter Panning it; refusing to grow up and accept the changes that went along with it—good and bad. Because deep down, he always knew he was a screw up and the less responsibility he had, and the less people depending on him, the less damage he could cause. Yet lately, his running away seemed to be causing a whole lot of damage—yachts destroyed, friends facing international criminal records, and girlfriends—make that ex-girlfriend—left broken hearted.

Then again, he didn't really know that she was broken hearted. Sure, she had been upset when she had learned he was going away, but she was probably long over him. Knowing Rory Gilmore, she'd moved on and wasn't looking back. She probably spent the summer with men falling at her feet, begging for a chance to carry her backpack from city to city with her while she cluelessly assumed that European men were really just that chivalrous. And by now, she was probably home, getting ready for her new life at Harvard—much more concerned with what stationary she should get than with the relationship they'd barely had. Just because he was broken hearted—yes, it was time to admit it—it didn't mean that she was and that was something he couldn't run away from no matter how hard he tried. It was a screw up that no amount of money in his sister's bank account could save him from. This time, he would have to live with his mistakes.

"I need a drink."

"Really? What a surprise—Logan Huntzberger needs a drink," Colin replied testily.

"What the hell crawled up your swim trunks?"

"What the...? We're being arrested, Logan. You got us arrested."

"It's not like it's the first time," he dismissed.

"It's the first time outside of the developed world. Do you know what prisons are like in Indonesia? Because I don't and I have no desire to find out, but thanks to you, I'm going to."

"Calm down, Colin," Stephanie attempted to ease her boyfriend's temper. He was rightfully upset, but turning on each other wasn't going to help. At least Finn was keeping his cool. In fact, he was so cool he was half-passed out.

Besides, Logan had been having a tough time recently. Stephanie blamed herself for practically forcing him and Rory together. Not that she didn't love Rory and think that she and Logan would be perfect together, but she hadn't considered things any farther than that. She should have considered the long-term consequences of her actions. Now two of her friends had been hurt—if Rory was really still her friend considering the numerous unreturned phone calls she'd left for the brunette before their trip.

The point was, like it or not, they were all in this mess and they had to stick together.

"Calm down? He crashed into a coast guard ship, Steph. Coast Guard! They're military. We'll probably be brought up on war crimes."

"You're being over dramatic. We'll get out of this."

"Of course we will," Finn mumbled sleepily, showing the first signs of life—other than a snore—in over an hour, "I'm too pretty for prison."

Colin rolled his eyes. "It's my own fault. I don't know what I expect when I surround myself with drunken idiots."

"Hey," Logan protested, "I'm not an idiot."

"Right, because out-drinking Finn on a daily basis for the last four months is smart. And getting into a game of Chicken with a naval craft—super intelligent idea, Logan."

"Whatever," the blond dismissed, not having a more sufficient comeback. Logan may not have been an idiot but lately he was sure acting like one. Not that he was ready to own up to it—he was still too busy wallowing in self-pity.

"Some more words of brilliance, Huntzberger?"

"Stop," Stephanie insisted again, trying to put an end to the bickering, "I think we all get it. Logan made a mistake…" Colin glared at her, wordlessly pointing out her obvious understatement. "A big one," she elaborated, "but he's been having a hard time—"

"Don't give me that bullshit," Colin cut her off before she could even finish her statement. "He got dumped, it's not like somebody died. Besides, it's been four freaking months." Colin turned from Stephanie to Logan. "You and Gilmore were only together for like, two minutes. Get over it. You've had girls throwing themselves at you all summer. Take your pick and move the hell on, because I've got to say, this new side of you is pathetic."

Colin was right, and Logan knew it. So what if Rory was the first girl that Logan had real feelings for? So what if he could have loved her? He had made the choice to leave and give up any chance they could have had. He had given it up for this stupid boat trip and he'd been drunk and miserable the whole time. He had to get over Rory Gilmore. It was time for him to move on—first thing tomorrow.

"..And flirting with a guy in a pompom hat and a skirt is quite an accomplishment," Lorelai finished telling the story of her Pope encounter to Babette.

"Well it sounds like ya had a terrific trip." Babette tore open the packet of hot cocoa, ready to welcome her neighbors home and get all the dirt on their European backpacking adventure.

"It was." Rory smiled fondly thinking of the amazing summer she had had. She looked over at her mother for confirmation and instead of giving it to her, Lorelai mimed a yawn.

The younger Gilmore girl caught on to the not so subtle hint and, anxious to get to her own unpacking and sleep in a real bed, stretched her hands conspicuously over her head and let out a real fake yawn.

"You okay, hun?" Lorelai asked pointedly.

"Yeah, I'm just a little sleepy." She rubbed her eyes for effect.

Babette finished pouring the cocoa into the cups and brushed the powder residue off her hands. "Oh, of course, you girls must be wiped." She started backing out of the kitchen. "I'll, ah, get out of here."

"Oh, well thanks, Babette."

"Well, good night. Sleep tight. I'll talk to you tomorrow." Babette turned around completely and headed for the door. "Morey, I'm coming home," she screamed to her husband next door before she'd even left the Gilmore home.

Lorelai buried her head in her hands as soon as her well meaning, but overbearing neighbor had left. She really did love Babette, but she was tired and she missed her home, her bed, her shower...and there was only so much Babette a girl could take when she was smelly, achy, and tired.

"I'm going to go unpack," Rory announced.

"Ugh, tomorrow," Lorelai moaned.

"No, if I leave stuff unpacked overnight everything's going to get gross." She got up and made her way out of the kitchen.

"Everything's already gross," Lorelai reasoned, reluctantly getting up from her seat at the table and following her daughter.

"Ahh," Rory breathed a sigh of relief as she entered the sanctuary that was her bedroom. She headed directly for her closet to hang up the sweatshirt that was tied around her waist. Lorelai immediately plopped herself face first onto the bed.

"Oh, oh my god, your bed feels good." She buried her face into a throw pillow.

"Do not get comfortable. I will sleep on top of you if I have to."

"Oh man, smell this." Lorelai held the pillow out to her daughter.

"What?"

"I forgot that pillows don't have to smell like feet." She brought the pillow back to her and propped herself up on it. "You know, I have to say, I think it's good I did this hostel thing in my thirties and I'll tell you why…" She began to ramble.

Rory ignored her mother, too busy admiring her closet full of clothes. She fell into the mess of hanging fabric and hugged her garments appreciatively. "I missed you. I missed you all," she groaned as the feeling of the soft, clean fabric enveloped her.

"If I had done it in my twenties or teens," Lorelai went on, "I would have been naive enough to think that hostels were exotic and romantic. But once you're in your thirties you've lived enough to know they're gross and should be avoided at all costs."

"I had a dream about you in Copenhagen." Rory pulled out one of her favorite shirts and looked longingly at it. "You were there and you and you and you." She went through each item.

"Listen." Rory turned to her mother but didn't let go of her clothing, rubbing the soft cotton of one of her shirt sleeves against her cheek. "Since we slept on the plane we should go to sleep now, but get up really…"

She was cut off by the ringing of a cell phone. Lorelai had brought her phone to Europe just in case someone needed to get a hold of them for an emergency, but it had not been used. Rory's cell had remained home, sitting plugged in to the charger all summer. She certainly wasn't expecting any calls on it and yet her unmistakable ringtone continued to trill loudly throughout the room.

"Who is it?" Lorelai asked curiously.

"I don't know." Rory glanced down at the LCD screen with the word 'unknown' scrawled across it.

"Answer it," Lorelai chirped, "word of our return must have spread already. We're very beloved."

Rory shrugged and flipped the phone open. "Rory Gilmore's phone," she answered cheerily. "If you are calling from the French, Portuguese, or Belgian consulate on behalf of Babette Dell, please press one. If you are the cute hash dealer from Turkey calling to find out if we made it over the border, please press two…."

"If you're Bono calling to apologize for not being at your hotel when we were there stalking you, please press three," Lorelai shouted towards the phone.

Rory rolled her eyes at her mother and stifled a laugh. "If you're one of the Swiss Guards in the fruity, cool clothing calling to arrest Lorelai Gilmore for touching the Pope, please press four…" Rory trailed off, waiting for the caller to reveal themselves. There was silence on the other end of the line. "Hello?" she finally said after a few moments. "Hello?"

She furrowed her brow in curiosity, clamming up as a strange tension filled her. She stood, frozen as her mind went through the possibilities for a moment before finally, slowly, flipping the phone shut.

"No one there?" Lorelai asked. Rory shook her head. "Do you think it's…"

Lorelai didn't have to finish. Rory knew who her mother was thinking of.

Shortly before the end of the school year, Rory had been at a party where Lane's band was playing. Jess had been there and he seemed to be in a particularly funky funk. Not long into the gathering, Jess wandered upstairs and Rory found herself trailing after him for some inexplicable reason. If she was honest with herself, there was a tiny part of her that still had feelings for him despite all the bad that he had done. She couldn't help it; and she couldn't help feeling the need to go comfort him since he was clearly upset.

She found him in one of the bedrooms and although he didn't seem to take issue with her presence, he didn't exactly open up to her either. Still, somehow, one thing led to another and soon they were lying on the bed, kissing. She wasn't sure what had gotten into her but as soon as his hands went for her belt, she snapped out of it. Jess had responded badly to the rejection, but when Dean, who was also at the party, saw Rory running down the stairs in tears, he'd responded even worse. The result was a couple of black eyes and a few thousand dollars worth of property damage.

That was the last Rory had seen of Jess Mariano; he'd left Stars Hollow a few days later without a word, but over the next several weeks she had received multiple phone calls where the person on the other end of the line said nothing. She knew it was him—those times.

This time, Rory shook her head 'no'. "I don't think so." Just as sure as she had been that the caller on her graduation day had been her taciturn, James Dean-a-like, ex-boyfriend, she was sure that this caller was not.

"Dean?" Lorelai suggested.

"Is getting married," Rory reminded her mother. Rory had tried to remain friends with Dean after their break-up, and had succeeded for a while, but things had been much more difficult between them ever since he announced his engagement to his second girlfriend, Lindsay Parker. Dean had moved on—he wouldn't be calling her.

"And then there was Logan," Lorelai deduced, "you sure have broken a lot of hearts, kid."

"I don't know," Rory tried to reason, collapsing down into a nearby chair. She couldn't think of any logical explanation for Logan to be calling. He was off in Bora Bora or somewhere equally exotic, partying it up and not thinking about her at all. And yet, she couldn't shake off the inexplicable feeling that it was him. "Maybe it was really just a wrong number."

"And you don't think they would have just hung up or—I don't know—said 'sorry, wrong number'?"

"Why would Logan be calling me?"

"I don't know, maybe he misses you."

"Or maybe I just have him on the brain, what with being home and Yale being so close and everything."

"But he's not going to be at Yale," Lorelai reminded her.

"Yeah, but he was. All of my Yale memories are of him, Steph, and the gang. It's going to be weird there without them."

"You'll make new memories and new friends."

"I know, I just…"

"You just miss him."

"It's stupid; we were barely even a couple."

"But you were friends for a long time before that. It's not stupid to miss him."

"I'm just tired," Rory excused. She sighed, standing back up from the chair. "I'm not thinking right." She didn't really want to talk about it anymore. Getting over Logan had been hard, despite what had almost happened between her and Jess at that party. In fact a part of her suspected that what had almost happened with Jess might have been some horrible attempt on her part to try and speed the 'getting over' process up. The point was, she had finally almost been able to forget about him when they were in Europe and she wasn't ready to have to deal with thoughts of him again now that she was home. Then she might have to recognize that she still wasn't over him, but with him a half a world away, what other choice did she have?

"Me, too," Lorelai admitted, realizing that her daughter was done with the conversation. She pulled herself up off of Rory's bed. "I'll just leave you alone to make out with your sock drawer."

Rory smiled as Lorelai got up and headed out of the room. "Close the door," she instructed her mother with a wink.

As soon as the door was shut, Rory pulled open the top drawer of her dresser. She looked down at the plethora of clean, white cotton. "Hello boys," she crooned with a grin. Despite her conflicted emotions, she was definitely happy to be home.

The dial tone rang in his ears for a few seconds before he finally managed to hang up his phone. She had sounded good—really good. She must have just gotten back from Europe, judging by the way she was talking about the trip. It had most definitely sounded like exactly the kind of European adventure he'd expect the Lorelai Gilmores to have and exactly the kind the elder Gilmores would have hated—trouble with foreign consulates and Swiss Guards, stalking of iconic rock legends. It sounded like they'd had an amazing trip—although he wasn't sure how he felt about this 'cute' hash dealer. It looked like Rory Gilmore had moved on—just like he expected she would.

Just like Logan was going to.

Honor had bailed them out like she always did and the group had decided to celebrate their freedom with a blow-out bash in the beach house they had rented for the week. Where they were going after that was still to be decided.

Logan set his phone down on the nightstand and collapsed back into bed. It was only eight in the morning after all, but he had woken up over an hour ago and had been unable to get back to sleep. An unusual feeling was gnawing at his gut and he was pretty sure it was guilt. Not that he had anything to be guilty for—except almost getting his friends ten to twenty in a Javanese prison and sinking a $700,000 yacht. But surprisingly, neither of those things were the reason he was feeling this way. He knew exactly where the guilt was coming from and surprisingly, the phone call had helped even though he hadn't said a word. Rory was doing just fine without him—she was happy even. And he was happy for her.

Logan rolled over onto his side, letting his arm fall over the warm, petite waist of the body dozing soundly next to him, and drifted back to sleep.