Disclaimer: Do not owe Gilmore Girls.

AN: So I thought I was going to be able to update during my vacation. As it turns out I wasn't. I don't know where time went, or what it was that I did that was so timeconsuming but summer...woosh! Gone! Then there was an exam I had to retake so I had to study (I do not recommend this. Studying during summer equals hell) and so here we are, it's practically september again. It's nearing 3 in the morning at the moment and my eyes are barely open, so I'm going to keep this short.
Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews! They really mean a lot to me :)

Without further due: here is the chapter :) I hope you like it.

Chapter 18: Like a memory from a dream

"Are you really sure?"

Rory rolled her eyes fastening her earring. It seemed to be the only sentence that left Logan's mouth not only this but also the 2 previous days. And her repeating the same answer over and over again was becoming tiring.

"Yes, Logan, I'm sure," she answered patiently, "Do you want to pinky swear?"

He sighed exasperated.

"It's your wellbeing I'm looking out for. Just because he snaps his fingers doesn't mean the whole world has to obey. Well of course I have to obey, but I'm not going to watch how he sucks in everyone around me in his bloody hole of misery." Rory watched him rant and take an annoyed sip of his scotch with a loving expression on her face. Although she hated to see him miserable… she liked to see his vulnerability once in a while. And she liked that his soft spot often appeared to be her.

"Relax, it's not as if I will have to jump through a ring of fire."

"Wouldn't be so at ease about that…" he mumbled, before she took his hand and drew him closer, tightening his tie, "Stop mocking me. I hate when you mock me," he told her in a strict but also almost pouting manner. She smirked giving him a light peck on the lips.

"I need to get dressed," she said with an evident hint in her voice that he needed to find an occupation of time for a while that did not include her.

"Why?" he asked sheepishly kissing her jaw while his fingers hooked in the sash of her robe.

"Because my birthday suit doesn't exactly fit a black tie event. It's more suited for other occasions rather than launching a new magazine."

"Mhm and what event would that be?" he asked moving his ministrations to her ear.

Rory sighed closing her eyes and welcomed his hands on her naked waist.

"I was thinking graduations, birthdays, maybe an intimate Christmas celebration…that sort of thing."

"I can't wait till graduation," he murmured, grazing her neck with his teeth.

"If you leave a mark I will kill you," she groaned, but couldn't summon herself to actually push him away. It was his phone irritably demanding his attention on the bedside table that made him stop after a few pleads and promises for later by her. She wondered whether he always got what he wanted. And shook her head in amusement as he mouthed ´you owe me´ before closing the bedroom door of their hotel suit behind him. Apparently he did.

"Did I tell you that you look incredible already?" Logan asked while the limo made its way through New York's nocturnal streets.

"Oh only about 20 times," Rory laughed, not moving her eyes from the window for any longer than to show him her smile.

"You grew up here, right?" she asked, taking in the liveliness of the city. She wondered if there was one quiet moment where everything just stopped or whether that would be like the halt of the beating of a heart.

"I did…well not here. Do you want to see?"

She met his eyes and nodded with a smile.

Logan turned to their driver and told him where to go leaning back in the seat and hooking their little fingers together.

"It's not a shack… in the garden of some charming Inn," he smirked.

"That's ok. I can't really imagine you in a residence that has a bathtub in the kitchen. "

"I would put that down as a necessity. Just imagine; having your morning coffee AND taking a bath. That's not only very very avant garde, that's also efficiency in its purest form!"

Rory blinked, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Just so you know: You are completely out of your mind," she said before bursting into laughter.

"I'm simply open-minded."

"Yes…your mind is so open that your brain fell out."

He pinched her side sticking his tongue out at her and contently closed his eyes. Maybe this evening wasn't going to be a complete disaster after all. The car stopped and Logan got out helping Rory and her red dress out of the limo. She buttoned her coat and looked around. The street was dim lit. Townhouses on one side, a stone wall surrounding a park on the other.

"See that house?" he asked pointing at a beautiful 19th century redbrick house. Rory nodded.

"I lived there for the first 16 years of my life. Well I was in boarding school for some of that time, but I called this home."

"It's not what I expected," she said truthfully.

"What did you expect?"

"Honestly?"

He nodded.

"Mmm…I expected a Trump Tower kind of occurrence."

He laughed out loud, small clouds of air forming in the frosty air.

"No. My mom, she wasn't too much into the modern castle kind of thing. Shira on other hand… The place in Hartford. How to put it delicately? Let's say its grotesque. And don't let this shack fool you. It's bigger than it looks."

"I wish I could see it," she smiled.

"Who says you can't?"

She gaped at him.

"You are not thinking of breaking in, are you?"

He laughed at her ability to think the worst.

"No…"

"Do you have a key then?"

"Not exactly."

"Then how were you planning on getting inside?"

"Ace, Ace, Ace. It's not called breaking in if the house is technically yours. And I don't have a key…but if my memory serves me right, I know where to find one. Have faith, thy non believer."

He took her hand and led her around the block, a staccato of stiletto's echoing into the night as she tried to keep up with his rapid pace.

"Aren't we going to be late?"

He shrugged and pulled her inside a little ally.

"Where are we?" she asked just as he stopped.

"Wait here." He told her as he jumped up and got a hold of the wooden fence while, pulling himself up. He swiftly disappeared on the other side and she could hear his feet lightly touching the snow clad ground. Rory looked around, pulling the thin coat tighter around her body feeling very alone and doing something illegal in some little ally in the dark.

She almost visibly spooked, when the fence gate suddenly opened and Logan grinned at her.

"Mademoiselle," he said gesturing for her to come inside. She looked around the dishevelled garden, noting that it must have been beautiful at a time. The dark windows gave the house an abandoned and cold appearance and she was glad Logan took her hand, leading her inside, feeling for a light switch. When her eyes got used to the bright light, she was met by a spacious kitchen, looking as if time had stopped there. The memo-board on the fridge said ´Milk, coco puffs, and apples', dried herbs were hanging under the cupboard, a copy of the New York Times as if about to be read was laying on the kitchen table and oven mittens lay on the counter as if someone had just used them. Although the temperature was below zero she smiled at the warmth of the room. Logan pulled her further into the house. An open hallway led to a wooden staircase curving up to the second floor. She tilted her head to look at the chandelier providing the riches and elegance to the room, yet not making it pompous.

"It's so beautiful here," she smiled as Logan pulled her further into a living room that gave her the strange feeling of Anastasia walking through the winter palace. She smiled about how Logan had to feel. 'This place it's like a memory from a dream.' The huge fireplace was almost as tall as she was, the furniture hidden from view by large white sheets.

Her fingers traced the mantelpiece and she turned opening her mouth, only to find Logan in front of the glass sunroom doors. She made her way to him, the satin of her dress softly whispering around her legs.

"I haven't been here since…" he started running a hand through his hair. The unfinished sentence hung in the room like the humid heavy air before a storm. Rory touched his arm and laced her cold fingers with his. He pushed open the doors yet did not enter looking at the grand piano taking up the room.

"It looks amazing," Rory said admiring the walnut instrument, "Was it your mothers?"

"Yes, it was…" He answered after a moment's hesitation, "And it is amazing. It belongs in a museum. It's worth more than my car. You are looking at the vintage Porche of piano's, Ace." The corner of her mouth tilted slightly.

"Mitchum had it shipped from Europe for her 30th birthday. So much history," he said letting his hand run over the dusty surface, "Chopin played it, so did Liszt, Siloti. It has seen lots of talent. "

"Wow," was the only thing that left her mouth, "Your father must have really loved your mother."

"He did. Shocking, I know." She watched him sit down on the bench and open the lid. Almost shyly his fingers touched the keys and the piano as if accepting its handler produced a rich resonance. Rory watched him from afar for a while, listened to him play something she couldn't place yet had heard it in a grey past, before sitting down next to him, ignoring the cold.

"I still find it odd somehow; you playing the piano." Logan smiled as his fingers kept manipulating the keys, a fluent, slow melody filling the room.

"I'm not playing the hobo, Ace. The piano is the most common thing out there."

"I know…but still. And you are good. How in the name of God, do you remember all that?"

He chuckled.

"I don't"

"But you play without notes."

"It's the piano," he winked, "all the notes are stored it there. I give it the melody and it fills up the blanks." Rory chuckled.

"Funny. Funny long did you have lessons?"

"For about 10 years. Till mom got sick," the playfulness in his voice was replaced by something else. "Then I somehow started to rebel against it. She wanted me to go on and I didn't see the point…she was going to die anyway. For some reason I thought I was doing her a favor by playing. And I wanted to be mad at something, someone…It seems so infantile now. Everything. She was growing gradually weaker till she couldn't lift a hand let alone play and she missed it. Music was her life. You should have seen her, Ace. When she played, you held your breath. She pushed those keys with her soul. The hairs on your arms stood upright. She probably loved that piano more than me." He smirked, sadness dancing in his eyes, but there was something else. Admiration?

Rory swallowed, willing her tears away. Although she knew that his mother died, how and why… He had never spoken about her in such an emotional way; never had started about her himself. This was the first time that he told her something out of the blue.

"I'm sure she loved you more than a thousand pianos," she softly spoke.

"I didn't play for almost a year." He continued, "I didn't touch a key. And it made her sad. I could see it in her eyes, but I didn't care. I came home drunk half of the time, my grades slipped, yet she never, not once said a word about it. She was too stubborn to put me in my place. I was too stubborn to see that I was killing not only her but also myself. The day she died… she asked me to play. She was laying downstairs in the closed veranda the sun was shining through the windows. I could see the dust dancing in the beams of light and it was so silent. Her shallow breathing seemed deafening. And she took my hand in hers - her hands used to be so beautifu and now all that was left of her was this shell - and I knew that she was ready then, that she was done. And she said…"

He stopped, drawing in a shaky breath. Rory's couldn't hold her sadness back, as tears rolled over her cheeks in silence.

"Play for me," He smiled, "She smiled with her eyes, which seemed the only thing in her body that had kept their spark, before closing them. So I played for her…for hours it seemed and when I stopped I couldn't hear her anymore. And the thing that struck me was that nothing changed. At all. The light was still falling through the window. I could here the birds outside and people on the street were going on without a hesitation. Hundreds of them, each with a destination in mind. The kids were still screaming in the park. It was as if she didn't matter. As if no-one noticed, but me and the piano. I swear it seemed as if its sound never was the same. She was the only one that could make it sing like that. And after she was gone, something died along with her. That's why it's so special, Ace, this piano. It's a part of her soul. It made her live up to her greatest and it saw her at the worst…and in the end it accompanied her into her last moments." He turned to face her.

"Do you understand now? How I remember? It's all I have, Rory. I can't forget. I never will. Because if I forget, I forget her. And I can't forget her." He whispered, "I can't…"

"I understand," she said softly, wiping her damp cheeks and flattering her face against his shoulder.

"What about your father? Where was he?"

She jumped up as Logan slammed shut the lid and the instrument produced a deafening growl.

"We're going to be late," he simply said, getting up.

She looked at him confusion evident in her damp eyes. As open as he was just seconds ago, as introvert he was now. She wondered what had happened to them. Rose had spoken of Mitchum turning cold the moment Logan needed him the most. Was that the reason why they were so estranged? Mitchum not being there when it happened? Not being there afterwards?

"Are you coming?" she heard him from the hallway and swiftly got up shaking her head as if to clear it from her thoughts.

The ride to the Waldorf was quiet. Rory played with her shawl while Logan absently looked out of the window, lost in thought somewhere.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked eventually, cutting through the silence.

He looked at her smirking and put an arm around her shoulders pulling her close.

"Now where would you keep a penny? As far as I know that dress doesn't have pockets."

He was avoiding her again. She hated when he did that, yet she let it slide.

"I have my ways," she shot back.

"Do you now?" he smirked, his eyes sparkling cheekily.

She blushed furiously realizing what she had said just as the car came to a halt and the driver said that they had arrived. Logan didn't move, his lopsided infuriating irresistible smirk still in place. He stared at her.

"Stop it!" she laughed trying to fidget out of his embrace as the driver held open the door. With a grin Logan got out offering her his hand and helping her out as well.

"My God I am brilliant," Logan said letting his eyes wander over Rory's gown. The strapless garment showed just enough of her pure white skin. The ruching at the hips accentuated her beautiful figure and the playful brooch at the rare back made him smile. She looked absolutely breathtaking in the layers of satin.

She rolled her eyes at his comment.

"What? You have to admit. You are quite some plum coloured vision."

With a theatrical gesture she slung the shawl over her shoulder and batted her eyelashes.

He laughed placing a hand on the small of her back and leading her through the marble lobby to the ballroom.

"Logan?" she asked as he plucked 2 flutes of champagne from a waiter's tray.

"Yes, dear?" he answered in a mock-British accent handing her the glass.

"Is that my grandmother?"

His eyes travelled through the room to settle on no woman less than Emily Gilmore standing next to her husband and Carl Bernstein, laughing at something the man said.

"I believe it is."

"But-" Rory started.

"I warned you, Ace. You are not here to just enjoy the game. You are a pawn in Mitchum Huntzberger's strategy."

"But you don't understand. Grandma…she is going to plan the wedding!"

"What wedding?" he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Our wedding! Are you ready to wear matching sweaters?!"

"I'm sure you are overreacting." He tried to appease her.

"Overracting? Logan, we are talking Emily Gilmore here. You," she pointed her finger at him, "are Logan frikkin' Huntzberger. You showed up at Valentines Day! And now you are here. With me! She is not only going to plan the wedding…she is going to expect grandchildren by Christmas. And although I love you I'm not ready to marry you!" She stopped looking at him standing in front of her, wide-eyed, her finger still pressed in his chest. She took a breath repeating her words in her head and stammered: "Or anyone else for that matter."

"Rory," he started carefully, "You know Mussolini, right?"

"Yes…" she drew out hesitantly not sure where he was going.

"Emily Gilmore is not Mussolini," he articulated. He watched her lip stick out in a pout before she stated:

"Emily Gilmore IS Mussolini! And we are Ethiopia!"

A few horrified faces looked their way and Logan threw them a polite smile before taking Rory's hand and pulling her out into the lobby once more. He led her further and further away from the event and they had almost reached the wardrobe before Rory asked where they were going.

"You are obviously upset. So let's go. No one has seen us yet. And this way you don't have to face Emily, plan our wedding, while knitting matching sweaters and worrying about providing her grandchildren before Christmas," he explained gesturing the wardrobe-employer.

She burst out in laughter at the absurdity of it.

"Aaaand," he stretched, "You won't frighten more of the guests…or me. I never quite saw myself as Ethiopia."

"Ok, ok…I get the point."

"Please get us our coats." He told the wardrobe- employer.

"Logan…"

"No, no. We are leaving."

"I'll behave, I promise!"

He looked at her with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"I mean what's the worst that could happen?"

"Well, I don't know," he shrugged, "According to you we will be annexated."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"You obviously don't know Emily."

He let out a laugh as they slowly started walking back towards the party.

"Rory…you forget that my father is Hitler. And I hear Mussolini and Hitler were quite the buddies. Just…smile and wave."

"Rory, dear! You look absolutely beautiful," Emily exclaimed, kissing her on the cheeks, "And Logan! How wonderful that you came together!"

"Hey, grandma, I didn't know you were going to be here," she smiled at Logan taking her hand behind her back and tracing his finger from her wrist to the tip of her fingers. She closed them around his and gave them a slight squeeze.

"Oh it was kind of a spur of the moment invitation by Mitchum. What a wonderful man."

For a moment Rory thought Logan was going to choke on his drink, but he managed to save himself with grace.

"You two are such a beautiful couple. You should come to dinner sometime. Don't you think that would be nice, Richard?" Emily went on turning around and furrowing her brow when her husband turned out to be missing, "Now where did he go?"

"That sounds magnificent, Emily," Logan answered politely, "I can't get enough of your salmon puffs."

"Well then there will be salmon puffs! Richard! Richard, look who is here." She chirped spotting Richard in conversation with a golfing buddy.

Richards face was lit by a bright smile at the sight of his granddaughter. He excused himself and made his way over to them.

"What a surprise! Rory, I didn't recognize you! You look like a lady. No, no, you are a lady."

"Hey, grandpa," Rory smiled.

"It's nice seeing you too, Logan," he extended his hand and Logan shook it.

"Likewise, sir," he smirked.

"You certainly surprised me last week, young man. I take it your intentions are honourable?"

"Grandpaaa!" Rory's face came close to matching her dress.

"Yes, sir," Logan nodded solemnly, "I care a lot about –"

"Logan, there you are," He was interrupted, "I already heard a rumour that you were here. I told them they had to be mistaken. My son…on time." Mitchum laughed clasping his shoulder. Logan keeping his put on charm laughed, downing the rest of his drink in one swallow and squeezing Rory's hand tighter.

"Miracles do happen," he said smirking and Rory tried her best not to shout out that he was breaking her hand.

"They certainly do. Rory, how wonderful to see you again. You look splendid. Emily I could almost confuse you for her sister." She produced a small smile, digging the nails of her free hand in Logan's wrist. He loosened his grip and she moved her fingers, glad they were still in one piece.

"Oh Mitchum," Emily laughed, "You and your humour."

The charade went on for a few moments longer, before Logan excused them and pulled her away. He gave her a smile, one saying: 'See? We survived.' But she saw that he was angry, annoyed. After all…Her hand was still throbbing and then there was the tightness of his jaw, the polite but ice cold remarks. He introduced her to some guests, calming down a bit with the help of a glass of 20 year old scotch.

"Excuse me for a moment," she told Maria, the wife of the new editor in chief and was about to walk away when Logan pulled her hand.

"Where are you off to?" he asked with a wink.

"To the little girl's room," she answered.

"Are you going to climb out of the window there?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, I've been trying to ditch you all evening now."

He grinned letting go of her hand and resuming the conversation.

Rory fixed her dress and lipstick and exited the marble restroom. Just then someone was coming from the other way and she got caught in a human collision.

"I'm sorry…" she laughed stumbling around. Her smile froze, when she saw who was standing behind her.

"Mister Huntzberger," she uttered trying to regain her composure.

"I apologize." The man said and her eyebrows rose in confusion.

"It was my fault sir," she answered and wanted to make an exit as quickly as possible. The man made her uncomfortable.

"I apologize for New York," Mitchum clarified and made her stop dead in her tracks. That statement made her skin crawl for some reason.

"You apologize? To ME?" she asked pointing a finger at herself.

"Yes. The way I spoke about you. I was wrong, I was angry and you didn't deserve it. I can see now that you are more to my son, than…"

Logan shot a look in the direction Rory had disappeared. He started to think she had climbed out of the window. He had had about enough of this evening and he wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel and to claim his 'debt'. He smirked at the thought, walking in the direction of the restrooms, trying to keep every greeting as short as possible. Just as he left the noisy room he was met by 2 familiar voices. Rory's and -he raised his eyebrows -his fathers.
"A cheap tramp?" Rory finished, raising her eyebrows. She was taken aback by her own boldness. She was not one of those people that could tell anyone and anything off.

The stern look on his face faltered for a moment.

"It's spineless after you have talked to my grandparents, but frankly I do not care. It's not me you should be apologizing to," she continued, her irritation only being fuelled by his silence.

"It's not? And who should I be apologizing to?" The man crossed his arms in front of his chest looking down at the petite young woman in front of him, her blue eyes spitting fire.

Logan was about to walk-in on them. The man seriously had nerve harassing his girlfriend twice in a month, but it was Rory's answer that stopped him. She was so incensed that she didn't notice him standing there within hearing distance.
"Logan. You remember your son? About yay high," she held her hand just above her head. "Blond, has your eyes in fact, but then warm, and your smile, yet sincere. If there is anyone that you owe an apology to, it's him," she spat.
Logan was speechless. He didn't know what to think. He just stood there glued to the marble floor and listened to what turned out to be the beginning of a rant.
"Do I now? If I may be so bold… What do you actually know about Logan or me for that matter? Because he sleeps with you more than once, doesn't mean you have the right to order me around or claim to know my son," Mitchum pointed his finger at her, his tone resembling rolling thunder, but it didn't intimidate her. She didn't feel the slightest trace of fear.

"Know Logan? Ha!" she crossed her arms in front of her chest as well, "What do YOU know about Logan?! Did you know he hates grapefruits?"

"What an essential knowledge of the depths of my son. Or maybe he doesn't have any…" he ridiculed.

"That he runs 5 miles every morning, that he loves Italian food, but prefers French wine?"She continued.

"Rory…"Mitchum warned.

"That he stays in for Hitchcock movies? That Octavio Paz is one of the, if not his favourite writer? That he admires him?"

"Miss. Gilmore! I am not going to stand here and lis…"

"That he has read to 'To kill a mockingbird' 10 times and the essay he wrote about it not only got him an A, but was published in the in the Yale Review?" She was raving now, unable to stop, her blue eyes burning. "That he LOVES to write?!" That silenced him alright. Rory was breathing heavily.

"So I thought," she said straightening her shoulders.

"This is not the Logan I know…" he started.

"Yeah well he is 23. Maybe it's time you got to know him." With that she walked past him, leaving a dumbstruck Mitchum standing in the hall but stopped dead in her tracks seeing Logan just a few steps away. She gave him a frail smile, not sure of what to say and how much he had heard. He didn't return it, kept staring at her with a blank expression that all of a sudden turned into anger. She watched his jaw clench, as did his fists, his eyes darkened like the sky before a storm.

"Logan—" she started, but before she could utter anything more he turned around and walked away. She turned around, and a still astounded Mitchum met her eye. Without a further thought she ran after him, trying not to trip over her dress.

How did she dare?! What damn right did she have to not only intervene in something that did not concern her, but to tell him everything, he didn't want him to know? Who gave her the right to define who he was to the one man he truly hated. Logan took an uneven breath as he made his way through the lobby, with only one thing on his mind. The Exit.

TBC

AN: So this was it :) Hope you enjoyed it. Please review!