Thanks for all the feedback and support. Without further ado, here's the next chapter...

She couldn't breath. She couldn't breath and this time she couldn't blame it on the overly saturated air. No—this time it was definitely caused by the body wracking sobs that consumed her. She was curled into the fetal position on the bathroom floor where she had collapsed, no longer able to support her weight with her own legs; not after she had seen what the little plastic strips had to show her.

The tears were overwhelming. She wasn't even sure why she was crying, other than the obvious: she was pregnant and the father of her child had left her. But more precisely? Were they tears of sadness? Relief? Joy? Fear? Was this good news or bad? She had every reason to make that call now—once her body stopped convulsing enough to be able to use the phone clenched tightly in her small, pale fist. She also had an entire life completely depending on her and no idea how to take care of it. What if she told Logan and he rejected her again? Would she be able to do it on her own? Would she be able to do it even half as well as her own mother had? She doubted it—Lorelai was always stronger than she was.

But she would have to find a way. She would have to find a way to tell him, and she would have to find a way to get through this—with or without him. But not quite yet. She would cry just a little bit longer, be weak just a little bit longer, before she had to pull herself together for the sake of her child. She pulled her knees in closer and let the sobs rock her back and forth.

As the bawling finally slowed to quiet sniveling, she became aware of the tingling sensation in her fingers which had remained clenched so tightly around her Sidekick they had begun to go numb. She loosened her grip a little, allowing the blood flow to return to her digits as she unpinned the arm from beneath her and brought the device in front of her face. It was time to make the call.

Her thumb caressed the face of the phone, pausing momentarily over the number "2." Speed dial "1" was reserved for voice mail. Once, long ago the second button had been unwaveringly Lorelai, but during the mother and daughter's falling out two summers previously, Logan had usurped her spot and Rory had never seen fit to change it back.

Two—there were a lot of twos in Rory's life. The two Lorelais. It was a twosome that had seemed unbreakable for so long in Rory's life, until she dropped out of school and she learned that even the Gilmore Girls weren't indissoluble. They had made up, but things were never quite as they had been—Lorelai's new setting at number "3" on Rory's phone just a small reminder of the relationship they had lost. Then there was her and Dean—her first boyfriend, and her second…and her fourth. They were the on again-off again twosome. They were stable and familiar—something she could always fall back on—until Dean got married to someone else and falling back into their old routine had ruined more lives than just theirs. There was her and Lane—the two Musketeers. Best friends forever and while that still hadn't changed in many respects, their lives had drifted so far apart it was difficult to remember that they would always be there for each other.

And then there was Logan. He restored her faith in the number two. He made her believe that two people really could endure anything. God knew their relationship had suffered enough drama, but they had survived it, growing closer and stronger through it all. But her faith had not prevailed. When he asked her to marry him, there was a tiny seed of doubt that forced her to put herself before their relationship. And so the doubt became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Her rejection had broken him, and he in turn broke them.

But there was a new twosome now. Her and her child. And suddenly, it didn't matter what the second member of the pair could do for her. It didn't matter if she could trust her other half, or if someone else would always be there for her. What mattered was what she could do for her child. What mattered was that she would always be there for her (or him) and that started with making this phone call. It started with the number "2."

It didn't matter how scared she was. It didn't matter how badly she wanted to put the call off just so that she could continue knowing she would eventually get to speak to him one more time. She needed to do this for her baby—for their baby. She pressed the button and waited.

"Logan Huntzberger." Her breath caught in her through, the need for oxygen forgotten upon hearing his voice. She wasn't sure how long the following silence went on for as his greeting echoed in her ears. "Hello?"

She didn't want to speak. She didn't want to ruin this moment--this one moment where the three of them existed together for the first, and quite possibly the last time. But she had to. He would hang up in a moment and then she wasn't sure if she would have the courage to call again—not after he saw her name on the caller id.

"Logan," she croaked out, the first words out of her mouth since the torrent of tears were hoarse and raspy. "It's me."

"Rory?" There was no mistaking the gravelly voice on the other end of the line. A month. It had been one month since he had last heard the speaker, though in many ways it seemed like both yesterday and a life time ago. In many ways it was. He heard her in the dreams that haunted him every night. The words "I can't" slapping him--sometimes metaphorically, sometimes literally--as his subconscious forced him to relive the worst day of his life over and over again. But he had been a different person then—a person she was responsible for creating. He had been a man who had finally gained independence from his pre-ordained destiny and finally learned to accept his dependence on another person. Now he was independent in every sense of the word. Independent and alone and starting his whole life from scratch.

And yet she could still manage to make his whole world implode with just one short sentence. She would probably always be able to turn everything upside down, inside out and backwards. He hated her for that. He hated her for the fact that he would never stop loving her.

Logan dropped his things back on the table without a second thought. "Rory, what's wrong?" She had been crying. He could also tell when she had just been laughing, sleeping, talking with her mother, writing…there was a distinct inflection to her voice that went with each activity although it didn't take his intimate knowledge of her to be able to tell there was something seriously wrong with her at the moment. What he didn't get was why she was calling him. He was sure after the way they had ended things he would never hear from her again. He figured it was the best way—for both of them. Cold turkey.

If she was upset she could have called her mother, or Lane, or maybe even Lucy and Olivia. Why was she calling him? "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Sick? Did somebody do something to you?" Why wasn't she answering him? Her silence was filling him with cold dread. He was officially panicked. "Rory, talk to me," he pleaded.

"I'm not hurt," she whispered. "At least not physically," she added, the words just barely audible. He felt himself relax slightly. At least she wasn't in a hospital or laying bleeding somewhere on the side of a deserted road.

"Did something happen between you and Lorelai?" Maybe that's why she couldn't talk to her mother. Maybe the problem was with her mother. Another wave of panic hit—maybe the problem was with someone else. What if someone else was hurt? "Richard—his heart?"

"Grandpa's heart is fine." But hers wasn't. The undertones of her last statement were unmistakable.

"Rory, please, you have to tell me what's wrong," he pleaded.

"I…I miss you, Logan."

"Ace," he breathed out automatically, feeling the familiar swell of love and loneliness and hope that he used to feel every time he would call her from London. He cringed at his use of her nickname and at the unwelcome bombardment of emotion. What was she doing to him? He was trying to move on with his life and here she was, butting back in, turning the dull ache of their split into something freshly painful. For a moment it actually felt like their separation was only a physical one—but it wasn't. He couldn't let her do this to him. "No!" He slammed his fist down on the table. "No, you don't get to do this, Rory. You don't just get to call me up sounding like you've just been told you've got six months to live and then tell me you miss me. You can't be serious."

"Logan," she tried to interrupt, her voice--just as fragile as before--hardly able to get through to him.

"Listen, I'm sorry if everything in Rory-land isn't as perfect as it always is, but you're not the only one whose life didn't turn out the way they expected it to. I wanted to marry you, Rory. I wanted to start a life and a family with you. And you said 'no.' You made that decision and now I'm trying to live with your choice the only way I can. The least you could do is leave me the hell alone."

"Logan, please." The crying had started again and he tried to push away the overwhelming sense of guilt. No matter how angry he was, he still loved her and the thought of bringing her to tears tore him up inside.

"I have to go," he replied, steeling off his voice. He stood up, preparing to end the conversation as well as leave the café.

"No, wait!" she cried out. He sighed in frustration, pulling out a few bills to cover the check and let her continue. "I have to tell you something."

"Then tell me already." His patience was wearing thin. He wanted this over with so he could go on with trying to get over her.

"I can't."

"What?" His entire face scrunched up in confusion. "That makes absolutely no sense."

"I mean I can't…I can't tell you on the phone."

Shit. He sat back down in the chair again. That could only mean…

"I'm going to be in Sacramento in a couple of weeks on business. I know it's not exactly San Francisco, but it's only an hour or so away. Maybe we could…"

"I don't think that's a good idea, Rory. Just tell me what you have to say." He had a feeling it wouldn't be that easy to get out of this. Rory Gilmore could be persistent when she wanted something.

"I'm sorry," she continued. "I know I made some bad decisions about us—we both did," she clarified, refusing to accept all the blame for the dissolution of their relationship. "But I need you to do this for me, please. If you never want to see me again after that, I'll have to accept that, but I need to talk to you. Please."

"No, Rory. I'm sorry, it's just—it's too hard. You have to understand. Just hearing your voice right now…I love you, Rory. Maybe I always will. But if there's even the slightest chance that I can get over you…I can't see you."

"Just think about it, please," she tried again. "You need to hear this. I really think you'll regret it someday if you don't." There was a familiar click and the phone went dead.

"I really think you'll regret it someday if you don't" The end of their phone conversation played over and over again in his head. What the hell was her problem? Who called their ex up out of the blue, scared the shit out of him, asked for a meeting, and then ended the goddamn conversation like that? It wasn't fair. He was supposed to be getting over her—that was the point. How was he supposed to get over her if she left him with stupid cryptic messages? How was he supposed to get her off of his mind?

He wasn't—that was her point. She was a reporter, just like he once was. She knew he wouldn't be able to let something like that go. He minimized the Excel Spreadsheet--summarizing the companies May subscription distributions--and revealed the contributor bio on Hugo's webzine that was open on the window underneath it. He knew Hugo and Rory would hit it off when he introduced them at that business party. Now she was apparently working for him, reporting on Barack Obama's presidential campaign. It explained why she would be in Sacramento on business in a couple of weeks—actually in 2 weeks, 3 days and 1 ½ hours. That was when Senator Obama would be holding a rally outside of Sacramento City Hall.

He knew it was a bad idea to go. Seeing Rory again would only be a setback. He highly doubted she had reconsidered her position on marriage, and to be honest, he had. He had given Rory everything he had. He had put her first in every decision he made. Logan had honestly believed that San Francisco and this job would have been the best thing for them as a couple as well as for himself, but if she had said she wanted to marry him but that she couldn't move, he would have given it all up without question. She wasn't able to do the same for him. She wasn't able to put their relationship before her own desires and goals. He wanted her to have everything she wanted, but if what she wanted was her 'wide open future' no matter the cost, then maybe she wasn't the woman he thought she was. The woman he fell in love with was one who was driven, but who still put her loved ones above all else. She was a woman who taught him to do the same. If they could be on such different pages, maybe it just wasn't meant to be.

Still, it was becoming increasingly clear that he had no choice but to go see her in Sacramento. He didn't know if what she had to say was something he would really "regret" not hearing, but he did know that he would always wonder. If going to see Rory was a setback in getting over her, not going would ensure he never did.

With a sigh, he picked up his phone and dialed the familiar number, his fingers working off of muscle memory. The line rang five times before he heard her voice. "You've reached Rory Gilmore. I can't come to the phone right now, but please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Have a great day."

He inhaled sharply as he waited for the beep, relieved to have gotten the voicemail. "Look, I'm told there's a pretty decent café a few blocks from City Hall. The Mudd Puddle. I'll meet you there Tuesday at 10, before the rally. And Rory…congratulations on the job. It's just what you always wanted."