A/N: Hey friends, long time, no see! I'm in my first GG rewatch of 2022 and felt the inclination to dust off some long-forgotten chapters. I am still on the Logan/Rory train! In my mind, this one-shot takes place in the world where Rory accepted Logan's proposal and moved to San Fran post-graduation. I do still wish for what these two could have been. As always, I appreciate any and all feedback. Potentially making this two-shot, so keep an eye out! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Ya, nope.

The second pink line was faint. But it was there. It seemed to get bolder and pinker against all the white the longer I looked at it. I stared down at the porcelain countertop where I was gripping the edge so tightly my knuckles had lost all their color. My hands were practically one with the stone surface.

I was not ready for this to be a reality. We hadn't even begun to really settle out on the West Coast, a land of blustering winds and endless avocados. We had barely been here for six months, and I had been working for only one of those months. One month. Thirty days.

xXx

"Paris?"

"No Rory, this is Barbra Streisand. You called me hotshot, what happened? Did a stack of newspapers fall on your head and give you a concussion? I know you're really committed to the small-town-low-paid-stringer-who-works-in-an-office-the-size-of-a-shoebox bit, but this might be excessive."

I barely digested the classic Paris barbs that came through the phone. I didn't remember dialing my old friend's number; I just know I had picked up my cell phone with every intention of calling Logan.

"Hey! Hellen Keller!"

"Sorry. Hi Paris."

"Rory? What is it?" It was rare for Paris Geller to express genuine concern for anyone. I listened to the crackling dead air on the line. A sluggish thirty seconds went by as I tried to form my panicked thoughts into functioning sentences. "Gilmore? You're killing me here."

"Sorry, sorry. Hi Paris."

"You already said that, Polly. What is it? You're freaking me out."

"I—," I took a sharp inhale and watched my face in the mirror. My face was paler than normal, and I could see a slight tremor traveling through my body. My heart jolted as I noticed my left hand resting protectively on my lower belly, my solitaire engagement ring glinting in the mirror and suddenly feeling heavy on my finger.

"Paris…the lines turned pink." I gulped. "Both of them."

There was a loud pause, followed by a garbled noise from Paris as the pieces clicked into place.

"Holy shit, Gilmore! You and Huntzberger work fast. Is this good?" Paris quickly amended her question, "This is good. Are you happy?"

"I don't know. I haven't even told Logan. I meant to call Logan."

"Rory, I think you should do that right now. Or call Lorelai. It's going to be alright. Hell, you've been taking care of my manic ass for years. It will be alright." She carefully punctuated each word, willing me to believe her, "As soon as you hang up with me, call Logan, okay?"

"Right, okay. I'm going to call Logan." I took in another deep inhale. Call Logan. I can do that. "Thanks, Paris."

"Call me anytime, Gilmore."

The line went dead and the anxiety in my chest that had briefly settled roared back to life. The urge to get in the car, book a flight, or jump on a train to put as much distance as possible between myself and the situation reared its head. In the highest form of irony, the situation would just be coming right along with me if I chose the running option.

I went back to staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and Lorelai Gilmore's bright blue eyes gazed back at me. Then, her voice began to echo through my head. In her energic staccato, my mother reassured me that it would all be okay and begged me to add another Lorelai to the family, if only to spite the ever-elitist Huntzberger clan. Despite the tremor in my body, I managed to ghost out a chuckle at the animated inner monologue. Even when imaginary, Lorelai Gilmore managed to find me a little bit of strength.

With shaking fingers, I hit Logan's speed dial and waited as the line began to ring.

"Logan Huntzberger." I heard the gusty winds of the Bay in the background and my brain scrambled to catch up.

"Huntzberger," He repeated.

"Hi," I whispered. My modest confidence from a moment ago dissipated, leaving behind the tremor I was convinced would now be permanent.

"Ace, is that you? I can't hear you. I am headed out, do you feel like Chinese for dinner? Take out? If I have to leave the house after I get home, it will only be under serious duress. Maybe Mister Jiu's - you want your usual smorgasbord? I swear I don't know where you put it all, and I still find it sexy as hell—"

"I pulled a Juno!" I blurted out before he could ask me another question and ramble through more arbitrary exclamations.

"Huh? What do you me—"

"Juno, like the movie. I, uh, know we aren't teenagers, but it kind of feels like we are, and who knows what we are supposed to do but I had to tell you and obviously we can talk about it more later. Do you know how much weight I am going to gain? It seems unimportant now, but you might not find me so sexy then, and honestly, it is your fault anyway and I a—"

"ACE!" His sudden interruption startled me enough to make me squeak into the phone.

"Ace," I heard him gulp down some air before continuing, "are you…pregnant?" His voice came out with the same god damn tremor my body couldn't seem to get rid of.

Pregnant. I hadn't been able to say the word out loud yet. Pregnant.

"I think so." I whispered. The numbed nervousness in my body was overtaken by a reality-shattering spectrum of emotions. Fear. Terror. Guilt. Confusion. And hidden away under it all was the tiniest spark of hope.

"Don't go anywhere, Ace. I'll be there in 45 minutes." He paused for the briefest beat, and with only deep conviction in his voice he breathed, "I love you, Ace."

And just like that, the tremor stopped and the hope grew.