Disclaimer: Gilmore Girls is the creation of Amy Sherman-Palladino.

Chapter 4: The Arrival

London, England, Piccadilly Ritz Carlton, Wednesday, May 17, 2017, 7:30 pm, GMT

Since he had been staying at the hotel, Logan had only to go up to his room to toss some things in a suitcase. He changed quickly – it wouldn't do to arrive at the hospital wearing a tux.

As he'd told his friends, taking a Huntzberger jet was out of the question as he didn't want anyone -his father in particular- to know where he'd gone until he was ready to explain. He knew his father could and would track him down immediately regardless of how he traveled, but Mitchum could easily ground a Huntzberger jet. Colin's family plane would've been ideal. Unfortunately it was in Scotland.

Logan picked up his cell.

"International Travel."

"Hi. Could you tell me what flights you have from Heathrow to Hartford."

"Hartford in Connecticut? In the United States, sir?"

Logan bit back a impatient reply. "Yes."

"Bradley International Airport in Hartford, Connecticut. When are you planning to travel, sir?"

"As soon as we end this call."

"Oh! Are you at Heathrow already?"

"No."

"How long do you need to get there?"

Glancing at his watch, Logan grimaced. Usually the drive would take about 35 minutes. There was no way in hell he'd be able to tolerate a ride going along with the posted speed limit. "Let's say 20 minutes."

"There's a 7:55 American Airlines flight that gets you in at half past noon."

"Noon? Tomorrow?! That's direct?!"

"Oh, no! Hartford doesn't get many direct international flights. If you're willing to fly to the New York metro area-"

"But that doesn't get me to Hartford, does it?"

"You could take a taxi from JFK to Hartford."

Damn. Logan let out a sigh of frustration. This was why Huntzbergers had private jets. "What time is the New York flight and what time does it get in?"

"It's British Airways and it leaves at 8:50, getting in at 11:00 pm New York time."

It was 7:35. That gave him a little over an hour. "Fine. First class."

"Yes, sir. Do you have a frequent flyer account?"

"Tell you what, don't bother with that. Just book the flight. I'm kinda in a hurry here."

"Oh! Yes, sir. I'll just need your credit card number."

Three hours later found Logan safely ensconced in First Class. The taxi ride had been brutal, fraught with traffic jams seemingly every step of the way. But then the queues opened up. With his frequent traveler status, he was able to breeze through security. With his First Class ticket, he boarded the plane immediately. It wasn't until he'd finally taken his seat that he realized the sense of urgency that had been propelling him since he'd hung up with Lorelai was also what had been keeping him calm. Absent that urgency, now alone with his thoughts, his mind took on a rather unfamiliar restless quality.

Leaning against the seat back, Logan closed his eyes and tried again to process what Lorelai had told him. Following that initial burst of anger, shock had taken over, effectively blotting out all other emotions. Now that the wave of shock had subsided, and the adrenaline that had galvanized him into action was no longer needed, he couldn't help but acknowledge his anger.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Logan couldn't understand Rory. He couldn't understand why she hadn't told him about the baby. Yes, she had wanted to end things between them. He had reluctantly agreed that - considering everything - it was the logical next step. But this was so beyond the two of them. This baby was as much a part of him as he was a part of her. She didn't have the right to keep the baby from him. And she knew as much.

Even though she had finally called -or, rather, she'd told Lorelai to call - he had a hard time shaking the suspicion that he'd received that call only because there was a fear that the baby wouldn't survive. If the baby had been born on time, how long would it have taken him to find out? Would Rory have kept it a secret from him forever if she could have? Would she have just let him remain in London, oblivious? Maybe a mutual acquaintance would've dropped the bombshell eventually. Maybe they would've been thrown together at a Yale event. Maybe she would've mentioned it in her book acknowledgements.

Damn.

"Hey," He waved down the flight attendant. "Could I get a scotch neat? In fact, make it a double."

The female flight attendant, attractive and blonde, smiled at Logan. "Yes, sir. Please let me know if there's anything at all you need."

Logan frowned. That kind of cloying attention was absolutely the last thing he needed. "Just the drink. Thanks."

In addition to the fear that Rory hadn't wanted to –and had the situation been different –wouldn't have told him he had a son, Logan couldn't help but feel blindsided. Had Rory told him about the baby months ago, he could've planned for it. He could've been in Connecticut. He could've made sure she had the top doctors. He could've made other arrangements. He certainly wouldn't have agreed to finally setting a date for the wedding.

Praemonitus, praemunitus. Forewarned is forearmed. Maybe not as catchy as in omnia paratus but in some ways, better.

Finding out now – after the baby was born –the only thing he could do was react. His hands were tied for the next six or seven hours since he'd be in flight. Ignorant of what was going on with Rory, and not daring to think about his son, there was little he could do but imagine the many ways in which his life in London was likely imploding at that very moment. Not only had he gone AWOL from his own wedding rehearsal, it would soon become apparent he'd gone AWOL from his wedding, as well.

Not that his absence from London mattered. If he hadn't pulled the plug on the wedding, Rene Lamontagne would have. Logan snickered at the irony.

A Lamontagne relative had been taken to the proverbial financial cleaners by a mistress suing for child support, palimony, breach of contract, everything under the sun. This situation – having arisen not long before the Huntzberger-Lamontagne pre-nup was crafted – fed not only Rene's paranoia, but also hours of legal research and contract wrangling. The end result was any out-of-wedlock children were to be fully disclosed and financially provided for prior to the wedding.

Of course, the true irony was that had Logan had any children, any heirs, he would not have conceded to the marriage in the first place. So the timing of Lucas' birth was beautifully, miraculously timed. Even if a little early.

The flight attendant brought over his scotch. Smiling, she wordlessly handed it to him. Logan accepted the proffered glass in silence.

Taking a sip, he considered calling Lorelai to let her know he was on his way. He mulled over the idea for a few minutes. What if she told him something bad had happened? What if the baby hadn't survived? If that was the case, what could he possibly say to Rory's mother? Would Rory even want to see him? What was he supposed to do? How could he not see Rory, even if she didn't want to see him? Rather than open a potential pandora's box, he decided against making the call.

Logan's mind still on Lorelai, he couldn't help but feel some trepidation at the accusations left unsaid during their brief call. Even though he and Rory were in their thirties, and far from being reckless college kids, he fully expected Lorelai to excoriate him when she saw him. As far as she knew, he had gotten Rory pregnant and then returned to London to marry another woman. Viewed under that light, it was rather damning.

Contemplating his son – Lucas Richard Gilmore, he reminded himself – he wondered about the baby's condition. Maybe it wasn't as dire as Lorelai made it sound? But he knew Lorelai. And he knew Rory. He couldn't imagine the situation being anything other then as presented. There was no angle. No game. Rory had given birth prematurely and the baby's health -for whatever reason - was currently perceived as touch-and-go.

Logan took another mouthful of his scotch.

As London faded in the distance, so too did thoughts or concerns about what was unfolding there. Ever rational, Logan couldn't help but acknowledge that he should've been more concerned about the ramifications and the fall-out from his hasty departure. But in those moments of quiet solitude miles above the earth he couldn't force himself to contemplate outcomes he cared little about, just as he couldn't force himself to feel emotions he didn't feel.

Logan sighed as he looked blindly out the window into the darkness of the Atlantic skies. Smiling wryly, he thought of Rory. With little warning, everything in his well-constructed life was suddenly turned upside down. For the first time in a long time he had no idea what would happen in the next few days. He smiled. He couldn't help it. This was always the reaction Rory Gilmore elicited. Since he was twenty-two and she nineteen.

Again he wondered at Rory's reason for not telling him about the baby. What possible excuse could she have? What excuse existed that made it understandable, much less acceptable?

But none of that mattered if the baby didn't pull through. And if Rory told him to take a hike. If those two things happened, he could theoretically return to London immediately. All he needed to do was come up with a story for Odette, and the wedding could go on as planned. Not this Saturday but maybe a week from Saturday or a month from Saturday.

If that was what he wanted. If that was what Rory wanted. It wasn't lost on him that what Odette wanted was not even a consideration. He felt his throat tighten.

Finally done with his rather admittedly pathetic naval-gazing, Logan realized he had a second wind. He chuckled silently. It was the kind of second wind you only get when you're surprised with the knowledge that the woman you love has given birth to your son.

Logan powered up his laptop. He had plans to make. The flight would put him in New York at 11:00 pm. The drive to Hartford would take at least two hours putting him in Hartford at one in the morning eastern time. Since he obviously would not be staying at the Huntzberger estate, he needed to book a hotel room. Settling on the downtown Marriott, he reserved one of the hotel's few luxury suites. Next he brought up a florist shop website. Clicking around the website, he grimly realized he couldn't send anything until he knew more about the baby's condition. No flowers. No teddy bears. He'd have to wait until he understood the situation and make due with gifts from the hospital shop.

Glancing at his watch he saw that it was 11 pm in London, and only 6 pm in Connecticut. He again considered calling Lorelai and again nixed the idea. It was too late to change course. He was going to Hartford regardless of anything anyone said to him.

You jump, I jump…

Considering how to best use his time before his arrival at JFK, Logan made a mental note of things to research. Common complications afflicting premature babies… Best Neonatal Intensive Care Units in the northeastern United States… Connecticut forms for establishing paternity… DNA tests for establishing paternity… But first he needed to ensure the rest of his trip went without a hitch.

Pulling up a contact from his cell, he powered up the in-flight phone.

"Hi, Logan Huntzberger here. I haven't used my account in years since I've lived mostly in London. I'll be arriving at JFK at 11:00 tonight. How about I get a car to Hartford? …Great…Does Frank still work there?...Yeah, if he's available, that would be great. I'd like to have him on call for the next few days, based out of Hartford…"

Hours later Logan walked out of the British Airways Terminal arrivals. Still apprehensive about the baby, the research he'd done while on the plane had put his mind somewhat at ease. He pulled out his cell and switched off airplane mode. As he'd expected, nearly everyone he knew had blown up his phone. He had voicemails from Finn, Colin, Lorelai, Odette, Honor, and his father. As for texts, he had a very lengthy and berating message from his father. There was also a three-word text from Lorelai.

He's doing better.

Logan's eyes closed in relief. Three simple words.

He's doing better.

Clicking 'reply' before he could talk himself out of it, he typed a response.

Very relieved to hear that. I'll be at the hospital by 9 am

Stepping out into the balmy New England air, Logan didn't waste a second in making his way to the taxi queue.

He's doing better.

Seeing his former driver standing next to a limousine, he waved. "Hey, Frank!" he smiled. "It's good to see you."

AN: Thanks for reading. Similar but different. In the early chapters, the changes will mostly be character nuances. For the interpretation of AYITL that I'm basing it on see the GG posts on maldiscontent dot livejournal dot com.

04/23/2017