Previously: "I'm pregnant."
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He awoke to Rory hovering over him, gently dabbing his forehead with a damp washcloth.
"What happened?"
"You fainted."
"Did I really? Why would I do that?"
She felt his forehead with the back of her hand, soothing the worry wrinkles.
"Well, you came in here and you were rambling, very Gilmore of you, about how you made a pro-con list and we can't have a baby, and then I told you I was pregnant, and well, here we are on the floor."
"Wow. And here I thought hitting my head on the floor hard enough would fix that whole thing."
She sighed and flopped down on the floor next to him. "So…"
He grabbed her hand and brought it to his chest, intertwining it with his own. "Yeah…"
"You think we can do this?"
He turned and looked at her, seeing only how beautiful she looked with her face pressed into the carpet, and imagining next year at this time, when they'd have their very own baby and their very own little family.
He moved forward slightly, kissing her on the tip of her nose. "God, I hope so."
So there they lay, side by side, on the carpet in front of her desk, both lost in their own thoughts, staring at the ceiling, hoping they could give this baby everything.
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He wondered how long this giddy feeling was going to last; they were just past the seventh month and he could barely wait for their long wait to be over. He couldn't believe they had made it so far; he sometimes had to stop and pinch himself as a reminder that this wasn't just an elaborate dream concocted during a boring meeting. This, this pregnancy, this event, this journey that he was taking; it scared him senseless but made his heart and mind swell with pride. He proudly decorated any available surface with pictures; of Rory in her third month, in her sixth, when they saw the sonogram for the first time, the pattern of his baby's heartbeats. He still couldn't wrap his head around that; his baby, his son, a little bit of himself and little bit of Rory all wrapped up in a perfect little boy. His son would be perfect; ten little fingers and ten little toes, he could already see them on the sonogram.
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"Did you know that your name means 'from the hollow'?
"No, that's funny though."
"Why?"
"Because you're the only one who's from the hollow here, but maybe we were destined to be together, huh? What's your name mean?"
"Lorelai means…alluring enchantress."
"Hah! That is so wrong."
"What, you don't think I'm an alluring enchantress?"
"You might be the furthest from an 'alluring enchantress."
"That is the nicest thing you could say to the woman who is currently playing house to your child, you know."
"I don't like alluring enchantress. How about 'brighter than the stars forever'?"
"Did you just quote a Styx song?"
"Hey, it's very fitting. I really like it. Why are you looking up names anyway? We've had these picked out since forever."
"No reason, I just thought it would be fun to play around with, design the world's ugliest baby name."
"Tuli Kupferberg."
"Hey, I liked The Fugs!"
"No, your mom liked The Fugs because they annoyed Emily. You liked them for the Norman Mailer reference."
"Drat! Must you destroy my indie music cred?"
"Yes, since Lane isn't here to do it, I alas must assume the mantle of Jeff Tweedy."
"I miss Lane. The baby shower was hysterical, wasn't it?"
They stepped off the plane in Hartford, Logan sparing no expense when it came to Rory's comfort and safety, as well as the baby's. Lorelai, however, ignored all his efforts and nearly tackled her as soon as they hit the tarmac.
"Lorelai!" He admonished. "Baby on board here!"
"How very Safety First of you, man who knocked up my little girl!"
"Excuse me, it's legit now!" he crowed, waving the couple's joined hands with the wedding bands.
"You could just be telling me that so I don't make a fortune off the tip to the National Enquirer."
"Mom! That was you? You sold out Colonel Clucker? How could you?"
"Jeez, what's your damage, Heather?"
"Ladies, hate to break up this little love-fest, but aren't we late for something?"
"Do not usurp the Welcome Wagon here, buddy!"
"Mom, we talked about this. Cowboy hats are not appropriate attire, no matter how many Slur-pee machines Taylor installs. And I take it you went with the literal 'Welcome Wagon' rather than the Independence Day one?"
"I really enjoyed the parallels of the Natalie Portman feature. You could give birth in a Wal-mart, if you wanted to. We'd have to find one, of course, but it's possible."
"Moving on. What time is Miss Patty's dance showcase extravanganza?"
"You know, you didn't have to fly over here. Just because Kirk dedicates a dance to you does not necessitate presence."
"Stop being so jealous, Mom, I thought it was a cute idea."
"In theory, yes, like Furbies, however, in practice, Little Boy all over again."
The waiting limo idled while group animatedly chatted as they slid into the backseat, headed towards Star's Hollow. When they pulled up, the entire town was festively draped in blue, with a large glittery banner announcing "Welcome Baby Huntzberger".
"Mom! After all we went through with Sherry? Do you not remember 'Baby Kareoke?'"
"Oh, I remember. But Miss Patty and Babette latched onto this idea, and you know how hard it is to find sailors these days to distract them. I would have needed an entire aircraft carrier."
"RORY!" A pregnant Lane waddled down the steps, waving her hands frantically, followed by a concerned Zack.
"Frank, stop the car!" He watched as Rory bolted out of the limo, moving faster than he'd seen in months, towards her best friend.
"Aw, how Tanner Family."
He turned to ask Lorelai how the town pulled this off, but she silenced him with a wave of her hand and a smirk. "The Stars Hollow Princess is having a prince, hello! You're lucky I talked them out of the Medieval Times theme, Kirk on horseback has never been pretty."
Later that evening, surrounded by present mountains and Stars Hollow inhabitants, Rory and Logan finally got a few moments to be together.
"So what do you think? Between the mountains of blue we have, we're either set for a boy or an entire Marines battalion."
"Are we missing anything? You know how much Honor loves baby shopping, I'm sure Steph would die of happiness to find Burberry baby clothes."
She smirked a little, but shook her head. "My mom made all of my baby clothes out of her old band tee shirts. I think that's a cute idea."
"Ace, you do realize you can't sew or anything, right? I realize that this whole maternal thing you've got going on here has caused a fluctuation of hormones, but it's actually made you delusional."
"I'm not saying I want to suddenly go Amish or anything, but I think it would be a cute idea to make his first outfit out of an old Yale shirt or something."
"You know, I think the gift shop has baby stuff too, I highly doubt we'd be hard-pressed to find a Yale baby outfit, and I think your grandparents would probably give us something Eli."
She scoffed; "Emily Gilmore give her first great-grandchild something ordinary? How plebian. I wouldn't put it past her to find some rare doo-hickey from Botswana or something that is absolutely not intended for baby use. Or she'll hire us a nanny so that I don't have to do anything, if your mother hasn't already arranged that."
He grimaced slightly: "Hate to break it to you, but Shira's probably got one already on call for the minute we bring the baby home. I think she expects all women to believe that ignoring their children is normal behavior."
"For the society set it is. My mom always told me bedtime stories about the evil Emily monster that locked Queen Lorelai away, only allowing the servants to speak with her."
"Promise me you won't tell our son insipid fairy tales, leave that to Lorelai, there's no doubt she'll rot his brain."
"Oh, don't worry, I plan on telling him stories about what his daddy was like in college and all the idiotic stuff he used to do, but honey, you need no embellishment."
"God, we're gonna have to watch out for Colin and Finn; I think the Australian believes the bottle to be the best method of starting alcohol consumption."
"Yeah, but think about all the boys' weekends you guys can have, Eli can tag along with you on your crazy outings. And I'm sure the LDB will probably adopt him as their unofficial mascot, given that he will be the little Huntzberger. God, I'm almost scared to think of what stunts he'll pull. Maybe if I dress him in tutus and let Emma use him for a live doll, I can curb that desire to be all he-manly woman hater."
"Hey! No son of mine is wearing a tutu, unless there is an almost ungodly amount of alcohol consumption involved."
"So you speak from experience, I assume?"
"When you're friends with Finn, it's basically impossible to avoid cross-dressing at least one time. I'm just happy Eli will get to tag along with all the fun business trips and Grandpa Mitchum's work tirades."
"Are you saying you don't want a daughter?"
"No, definitely not Ace, I would love a daughter, but I'm almost relieved we're having a boy first. Boys I can handle; just be the opposite of my father. Boys I get. A girl, however, would scare the shit out of me. Do you know that girls date? Our daughter will not date until she's thirty, if we don't put her in a convent first. And this way, she'll have Eli to protect her, too."
Rory smiled wryly. "If she doesn't date one of his friends first."
"No! Absolutely not! She is NEVER dating a society boy. All they do is use and abuse women, they're assholes, wastes of trust funds."
"Glad you're coming to terms with the vast majority of your life."
He was indignant; "I'll have you know I have reformed, and I have done more with my life in the past three years than all of my friends combined."
She smiled sweetly. "I know, hence the emphasis on most of your life, not all. There's hope for you yet, Huntzberger."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, mock the man that worships the ground you walk on, I get it, there's little love lost on me."
"Wow, the newspaper king has quite the grasp on alliteration. If I wasn't already carrying your child, I'd offer right now."
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Logan claimed the seat next to Emma, although it meant putting his cashmere sleeves in jeopardy. He could not move past the fact that his niece resembled an angel, even though she was covered in smashed peas. Shira clucked disapprovingly towards the little girl, seated at the imposing dining room table with the rest of the adults rather than concealed somewhere with a nanny. "Honor, isn't your nanny available today?"
His sister glanced up at her mother, adopting a bored tone: "No, Mom, we gave her the week off so she could be with her own family. Josh and I thought we could handle the baby ourselves. Besides, it's not Thanksgiving without all your family there."
Logan and his sister exchanged knowing glances, each conducting a mental calculation of how many Thanksgivings they spent with some non-English speaking nanny or maid while their parents were off shirking their responsibilities.
Mitchum interrupted, drawing attention to himself; "Well, we're all here now, aren't we? I'm thankful for that. In fact, why don't we start a new family tradition for our new family members and go around, saying what we're most grateful for? Shira, you start."
His mother, clearly frazzled by this foreign outpouring of emotion from her husband, stuttered, "Well, the Hermes waiting list for the ostrich Kelly is down to only one or two people, some petty concubine of the Sultan of Bhutan…"
Mitchum and Logan both coughed loudly into their napkins.
"Wait, I wasn't finished!" she covered semi-gracefully, "and I am thankful for this…this delicious turkey dinner."
Logan leaned over to whisper in Rory's ear: "Notice how she avoided mention of anything that was living or breathing or had a soul?"
She whispered back, her words tinged with a maternal edge "Oh, Logan, that poor turkey! After I had named him Jeremiah and promised to build him a turkey house and knit him beak warmers!"
It was moments like these that made him very thankful for the rapidly approaching due date. Mitchum interrupted and nodded towards Honor, who spoke next: "Josh and I are so thankful that Emma is finally sleeping through the night and we can do all sorts of fun things with her now, right? We're also very thankful that her godmama will soon give Emma a fun cousin to play with."
Rory smiled at this, interjecting "Emma's godmama is very thankful that soon there will be a fun cousin that is no longer playing soccer with his mama's vital organs."
Logan reached for Rory's hand, gently grasping it next to the place setting. "And I am so thankful that we can all be together today, celebrating our soon to be bigger family, and I'm also thankful for my beautiful Ace and our son."
Rory's eyes misted over and Logan noticed her trying to contain her sniffles. "Oh hell," she said, "These stupid pregnancy hormones make me a ruptured Hoover Dam!"
Chuckles rippled through the females at the table, as Honor sympathized; "When I was pregnant with Emma, poor Josh accidentally ate one of my concoctions-Belgian waffles with anchovy paste-I almost thought he was going to divorce me."
Logan watched as Josh smiled, briefly nudging his sister's cheek with his nose as he pulled her in for a kiss. He liked that finally, they were comfortable enough to do that in front of his parents-he and Rory as well. Thanksgiving was starting to feel real for him-like this motley crew of people assembled were an honest-to-God family rather than a group of society brats separated by trust funds and greed. Rory moved to take her plate towards the kitchen, mumbling something about eating for two. He called out after her, "You know, after Eli's born, you're going to have to figure out a new excuse to use to defend your eating habits."
Expecting a sharp response back and not receiving anything but silence, he called out again, "Ace? Come on, don't get upset."
Still, no retort echoed down the hallway from the kitchen. A little worried, he began to push his chair back from the table. A loud crash filled the air, followed by the tinkling of shattered china. "Oh my god, Rory!"
He leapt from the table, followed closely by his father. Rounding the corner, he saw her slumped against the stove, weakly clutching a drawer pull. Surrounding her were shards of her plate and a growing puddle of water tinged slightly crimson. He immediately dropped to his knees, ignoring the dangerous mess on the floor and cupped her face.
"Rory, Rory, what happened?"
"I think my water broke. I just felt this sharp pain and kind of fell by the stove. Oh no, I broke Honor's plate!"
Mitchum jumped into action; "Don't worry about the stupid plate, we need to get you to the hospital. Should I call the helicopter? Shira, call the helicopter, we need to get to the hospital!"
Logan gently maneuvered Rory into his arms, not caring that his sleeves were getting soaked from the bottom of her dress. He pressed his cheek to hers, whispering in her ear, "It's okay, we'll make it there. Shh, don't cry, baby, we'll get there, I promise."
She mustered up a little smile that was replaced almost immediately with a grimace: "Logan, it hurts." She meekly admitted, before collapsing onto his shoulder.
He rushed out of the kitchen, towards the front door, issuing orders: "Mom, Dad, call Richard and Emily. Honor, call Lorelai, have her stop at our apartment and grab the baby bag on her way to the hospital. I'm going to have Frank drive us to the heliport, there's no way we can make it to Presbyterian with all of the holiday traffic."
Mitchum interrupted; "But…"
Logan whipped around: "Fine, have Mom call Richard and Emily. If you're insisting on coming with, you're calling the hospital and letting them know we're on our way. I want Rory's OB to meet us on the roof, and a private room-tell them if they want paperwork completed, someone else can handle it. Do you think you can do that Dad?"
Startled by his son's ease and decision-making, all he could respond was a mumbled "Just give me the number."
The two men tore open the front door, heading towards the idling limousine that awaited them in the driveway. Mitchum flung open the door while Logan ducked inside with Rory, still faintly conscious. He laid her out on the seat, stroking her head and telling her, "Come on Ror, hold on. We'll be there soon, okay?"
Mitchum clamored into the seat next to Frank, who was obviously not used to his clients sitting up front with him. "What are you staring at, Frank? Get us to the heliport! I don't care if you speed, I'd really like to see the police put up a fight against a Huntzberger pregnancy emergency."
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"Rory, breathe, breathe, we made it, okay?"
He could only watch as Rory's face contorted in pain from the contractions, and then his own face mirrored hers as she gripped his hand so hard, his knuckles were deathly pale. The doctors managed to pry his hand away, and separated the couple in order to wheel her to an examination room. As they rolled the stretcher away, one of them gestured towards the waiting room and told him they would come get him when it was time.
He rushed into the nondescript area, frantically pulling out his phone to call everyone and tell them the good news. While he was on the phone with Colin, midway through his contact list, a nurse motioned to him and disappeared around a corner. He hastily dropped his cell into his pocket and followed the harassed looking woman. Speeding around the corner, he nearly collided with the attending physician.
"Mr. Huntzberger, I need to talk to you."
"Of course, Dr. Reynolds, is everything okay? Is it time? Oh god, it's time, isn't it? I hope everybody will make it before the big event's over."
"Mr. Huntzberger, I'm afraid I have some bad news."
"Oh Jesus, what's the matter? Is it Rory? The baby?"
"You may want to sit down for this."
"God dammit, just tell me! What's so bad about it? Is something wrong with my son? Does he have nine toes or something? Down's syndrome? Whatever it is, we can handle it!"
The doctor shifted uncomfortably under Logan's frantic gaze, looking pointedly at the beige tile. "Mr. Huntzberger, when we went to check on the progress of labor, we had trouble finding the baby's heart beat. We double-checked our fetal heart monitor, then tried to find the heart beat again. We were unable to find a heart beat other than your wife's. I'm sorry."
Logan couldn't even process the information. "What do you mean you couldn't find a heart beat? We were just at the doctor's two weeks ago and everything was fine!"
The doctor continued; "We're not too sure what happened, we'd like to perform a stillbirth evaluation after your wife is finished with labor, we just need your consent."
"Oh god, Rory. Does she know yet?"
"No, we haven't told her yet. We'll tell her as soon as she's fully dilated."
"I'll tell her."
"Mr. Huntzberger, are you sure? It sometimes is better coming from the attending, mothers are more inclined to believe their doctor."
"No, I'll tell my wife that her child is no longer breathing, if that's all right with you! Somehow I hardly think she's interested in hearing it from you!"
He shook off the doctor's hand and rushed towards the delivery room.
"Rory, honey, how are you?"
"You are never coming near me again, Huntzberger, your son is causing me quite a bit of pain!" She spat out through gritted teeth, though her eyes sparkled with happiness.
"Sweetie, did the doctors tell you anything?"
"No, they said they had to find you, I've only been busy having your child! But Mom was right, pelting the nurses with ice chips is fun!"
"Rory." He stroked her sweat-soaked brow gently, moving down to grasp her hand.
"What? Whatever it is, can it wait until I'm done, OWWWW, pushing?"
Her voice rose to a scream as she latched onto his hand, causing him to bite his lip to contain his own howl.
"Rory, they couldn't find a heart beat."
"What are you talking about?"
"Rory, they couldn't find a heart beat."
"Mrs. Huntzberger, I'm sorry, without a heart beat, we have to assume that the baby was stressed and ceased to function."
"What do you mean YOU COULDN'T FIND A HEART BEAT?"
"Rory, the baby didn't make it."
"Mrs. Huntzberger, you're going to need to push now."
Logan watched helplessly as Rory began to process the information being told to her while she was in labor. Her eyes filled with tears and his heart plummeted to the bottom of his shoes as the first few began to fall.
"Mrs. Huntzberger, one more big push, I almost have it."
The doctor's clinical tone seemed to snap her out of whatever trance she was in, and she began screaming hysterically at the doctor. "That's my son! Not an it! That's my baby, my son!"
Logan could do nothing except press his sobbing wife against his chest, stroking her damp hair and back, feeling his shirt grow soggy as the cotton absorbed her tears.
The doctor interrupted them, holding a small bundle swaddled in a blue blanket. "Would you like to hold him before we transport him to an exam room?"
Logan nodded his head, shifting his attention back to Rory. "Sweetie, do you want to hold him?"
She looked up at him, completely heartbroken. "Yes," she whispered, "I want to hold my son."
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He had given Rory and the baby some time alone, distracting the doctors for a while to allow the pair some time together before they came to take him away. He saw how she was scared to hold him, scared to lift the blanket covering his face. Once she summoned the courage to, however, he saw how tenderly she stroked his eyelids, counted each one of his toes, kissed the tips of his minute fingers. A soft hand on his shoulder broke his gaze from his wife and son; he turned to find Colin standing next to him.
"Hey buddy."
"Hey Colin, thanks so much for coming to the hospital."
"Of course I would, Logan. How are you doing?"
"I'm okay."
"Thanks for the bullshit, I'm not Shira, now how are you really doing?"
"Shitty. Really, really shitty."
"Much better. You want to talk about it?"
"Yeah, but I don't know what to say. I could have prevented this, done something better or right."
Colin shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry man, but there was nothing you could do. You and Rory did everything right, maybe this just wasn't the right time."
"Is this some sort of karmic punishment or something? Like because I was lucky enough to have never gotten a girl pregnant during my man whore days, I can't have a kid now that I'm married and want one?"
"You keep trying to find an explanation, but there isn't one, at least not one yet. Maybe wait and see what the doctors find in their examination."
"Why does this hurt so much?"
"Because this is the first time you've realized that it doesn't matter how much money you have, you're powerless in this situation. It's a pretty big pill to swallow."
"What am I going to do?"
Colin shrugged and sighed: "You'll probably be really angry for a while, yell at God or fate or your father, then you'll be sad and probably afraid to cry in front of us, but Finn and I will take you out for a drink to celebrate your son, and over a very expensive bottle of scotch we will cry and laugh and eventually heal from this."
He cracked a small, somewhat painful smile. "I could see a lot of scotch doing us a lot of good."
"Have you talked to her yet?"
"No, I really have no idea what to say. I couldn't protect her from this, couldn't save us, and I hate it. Anything I say will just be words, she's probably going to blame herself, think that this was her fault, that I resent her for it. And you know her, no matter how many times I reassure her that I'm more concerned about her, she won't believe me."
"Are you still going to name him Eli?"
"No, I don't think so. I think he needs a name that is free from everything we've associated it with; I think we need a name for him that is free from everything we've associated it with. I still want to use the name Elias Christopher, but somehow it just doesn't feel right in this situation."
"Yeah, I understand it. What about Connor?"
"What about it?"
"The name Connor. I think it sounds pretty good with Huntzberger. Unless you and Reporter Girl want to continue the whole 'L' thing you guys have got going on."
"I like Connor. It's strong. Not wimpy like Colin."
"Oh please, Logan? At least I'm not named after an airport."
"I am not named after an airport! It's a family name, ass. Besides, at least nobody's ever called me Col-Col."
"She didn't speak English! And you really want to go that way, Logie-bear?"
He hesitated a little; "It feels wrong to be laughing and smiling right now. I feel like I'm sucking at this whole mourning thing."
Colin looked him straight in the eye; "You were never one to grieve, Logan. Instead, you wanted to celebrate the good things rather than be sad about the bad. Everybody deals with loss differently; it doesn't mean it's wrong that you're not crying your eyes out. Frankly, that would be a little disconcerting, seeing my best friend bawling. You're sad, of course you are, but you choose to find things to be happy about, look for the best in every situation."
"Is there a best in this situation?"
"I'm not sure, buddy, but when I find it, I'll let you know."
He pulled Colin into a hug, grateful to have his particular brand of support with him. This whole thing would be easier with their friends and family; he was happy to be reminded that he wasn't alone here.
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The next few days were the darkest he had ever encountered. Rory locked herself in the nursery, refusing to come out. He could barely function, ignoring all work phone calls and insisting on handling Connor's funeral arrangement by himself. Emily and Lorelai had essentially moved in, and for once he was grateful for his wife's overbearing grandmother. He could faintly hear her barking instructions out to the caterer as he made his way upstairs. Slouched outside the nursery door was Lorelai, merely waiting in the silent hallway, slowly sipping a mug of coffee. Sitting down beside her, happy to feel the solidity of the door behind his head, he asked, "How is she?"
"Well, the sobs quieted down a little about twenty minutes ago, so I think she's worn herself out enough to sleep."
"Has she said anything to you?"
"No, she hasn't even opened the door. I've tried everything-I've never seen her turn down a cup of coffee, much less one that I'm holding."
He sighed. "She's been really really good about the no coffee part with El-I mean the baby. Well, I guess she was really good about it." His voice broke a little mentioning his son.
"Hey, come here." Lorelai set down her cup and pulled Logan into a friendly hug.
"I don't know what to do, Lore, she's shutting me out. She's shutting you out. I don't know how to help her."
"Oh kid, nobody does. No one's gone through this before, and it's not like any of our families are really good with emotional messes. You just have to give her some time to deal with it on her own. It's how she likes to operate."
"I know, but dammit! He was my son, too! Aren't I allowed to be there with her?"
"Logan, she'll let you in eventually. She just needs some time to process-you know how she is. Don't be too hurt by it. I don't know what else to tell you."
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He somehow managed to make his way to the lectern, the priest's sympathies garbled in his head by his grief. Hands shaking, with a voice to match, he slowly extracted the eulogy from his jacket, its tear-stains he would call water spots if anyone asked him about them. "My son may have not known his own life or happiness, but Rory and I are grateful for the happiness he brought to ours. He leaves us with so much hope; for tomorrow and for the future. So now, I leave him with the wise words of a great man mourning the loss of his own love;
I cease from my song for thee,
From my gaze on thee in the west, fronting the west, communing with thee,
O comrade lustrous with silver face in the night.
Yet each to keep and all, retrievements out of the night,
The song, the wondrous chant of the gray-brown bird,
And the tallying chant, the echo arous'd in my soul,
With the lustrous and drooping star with the countenance full of woe,
With the holders holding my hand nearing the call of the bird,
Comrades mine and I in the midst, and their memory ever to keep for the dead I loved so well,
For the sweetest, wisest soul of all my days and lands -- and this for his dear sake,
Lilac and star and bird twined with the chant of my soul,
There in the fragrant pines and the cedars dusk and dim.
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He was shaken awake by her intense trembling late one night in bed. She was feverishly pale, moaning slightly while tossing side to side. "Ace, wake up, honey, you're having a bad dream." He gently placed his hand on her shoulder, and his touch shocked her eyes open. She recoiled from him, a flood of tears coursing down her cheeks. "It hurts."
"Baby, what hurts? It's okay, it was only a nightmare. You're okay, you're safe, you're right here with me." She shook him off her, curling into herself, creating a tiny ball that was wracked with sobs.
"It hurts. It hurts so much sometimes that I can't breathe. And then I feel selfish because I can breathe, and he couldn't! Why did my heart keep beating when his stopped? Why couldn't it have been me? I'm done, I've had a life, and I've been loved! He didn't even get the chance! He didn't get to have those things, he didn't even get to open his eyes to see mine! You know his eyes were hazel, the nurse told me. They were a mix of you and me, just like he was. He's never going to open them, or smile, or drink coffee, or get in trouble, and it's because of me! It's broken!"
He tried to soothe her, gently questioning "Honey, what's broken?"
She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to look at him. "Me, I'm broken. I can't be fixed, put back together."
"Oh God, Rory, you're perfect. You are not broken. Maybe we just weren't meant to have a child right now."
She shook her head vehemently, shrugging off his sentiments. "No, you were ready to be a dad. Me, though, I was selfish and didn't want him when I first found out. But then I grew to love him so much it made me scared sometime, exactly with loving you. And then I was punished because I didn't love him enough, and now he's not here at all!"
"Rory, you loved him enough, you loved him so much, and it's not punishment. This just maybe wasn't the right time for a baby."
"Stop trying to fix everything, Logan, you can't! You can't fix this!" She violently threw herself onto him, beating his chest with balled-up fists, while he held her and waited for the shaking to subside. As predicted, she collapsed into his chest, exhausted from her internal battles, and cried with her entire heart.
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The waxy pallor of the moon made it difficult to distinguish her body from their white sheets, her skin pale and dull, even in the glowing moonlight. He had become accustomed to waking up and wandering the house during the night hours, finding the creaks in the floorboard soothing, and the gentleness of the moon a comfort in his world filled with harsh realities and sharp lines. Her hand lay limply on the bed, his fingers itching to grasp it. However, he knew from experience that if he gave into his impulse, she would just snatch it away and curl up even tighter than she already was. She wouldn't allow anyone to touch her; not even a simple hug or kiss. It was like she was trying to push away the world, including him, scared to let anyone break through her barriers. It wasn't even about making love anymore; it was about their loss of intimacy, how they would hold each other and whisper late into the night. Her body was so foreign to him now, sharp angles where her bones jutted out, thin from not eating. Her eyes terrified him the most; they were dark, rimmed with an unhappy redness that seemed permanent. He felt helpless, and he hated it. He wasn't supposed to be like this, their life wasn't supposed to be like this.
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He walked in the door, tired and looking forward to a mind-numbing drink and the comfortable couch. Instead, he noticed Rory's bag by the door, an immediate red flag for him. He grabbed some of his hair in his fist, cursing slightly under his breath. "Rory? Ace, where are you?"
She timidly walked out of their bedroom, shoes and coat on, as if she had been caught in the act.
"Why are you dressed? Are you going to Stars Hollow? If you give me twenty minutes, I'll come with you."
"No," she said, refusing to meet his gaze. "I'm not going to Stars Hollow and you can't come with."
"What? Wait, explain. Are you and Steph going somewhere? Are you doing some spa thing, girls-only type deal?"
"Logan," her voice broke and her head hung down, "I'm leaving you."
"You don't mean that." He tried to keep his voice steady, but his register wavered.
"Yes, I do. I'm leaving you. It's for the best. You deserve someone who will make you happy."
His eyes clouded with tears, her face becoming blurry to him. "You think you don't make me happy? Why? Rory, I love you. You make me happy!" His words came out in desperation, as if they could express everything he felt in such short syntax.
"I'm broken. We might never have another child. You deserve someone who can give you a child. I can't."
"So you're willing to give up on us because the possibility exists that we might not be able to have children? That existed before Connor, you know." He watched as she involuntarily flinched at the mention of Connor's name, her shoulders drooping even more.
"You need a son or a daughter, or somebody to carry on the Huntzberger destiny. As much as you said you hated it, you've always wanted one of your kids to carry it on."
"I want one of our kids, Rory, ours like yours and mine!"
"Well, it's not going to happen! I might not be able to have another child, and what happens when the next one dies, too? You really want to have another funeral service, visit Connor's grave again, look at all the happy people who can have children while your stupid wife sits at home, and your secretary offers to have your kids? No. It's not going to happen to me."
"It's not going to happen at all! Why do you keep running? Why don't you trust me enough that I love you, I love you for everything you are! Why isn't that enough?"
She stepped away from him towards the door, but he grabbed her arms and held her firmly.
"God, Logan, why do you keep fighting for me?"
"Rory, let's get one thing straight. I will always fight for you. I will fight for you even if I have to fight against you, like right now. You aren't abandoning this marriage because you don't think you're enough for me. You're scared, okay. What do you think I am? I am so goddamn scared out of my mind that half the time, I don't even understand what I'm scared of. Don't push me away, Rory, don't make yourself a martyr for the cause. I don't care that we might not be able to have children of our own. We can adopt, or have you even looked into surrogacy? I know that it's your instinct to run, but please, stay. Stay for me. Even better, stay for yourself."
Wordlessly, tears flowed down her cheeks, leaving darkened rivulets mapping out fragile tributaries on her cheekbones. He brought her close, enveloping her shaking frame into his, pressing their bodies together, from head to toe. He wanted her to feel healed by him, safe and at home.
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Later, as they lay together in bed, he stroked her hair as she finally talked about Connor, unleashing a flood of dammed emotions, feelings and thoughts she had kept bottled up since the funeral.
"I guess I couldn't handle it, I mean, we've all seen me react to emotional stress, it's pretty much like an autopilot course set to self-destruct. At first, I was so nervous to tell you that I was pregnant, I mean, I could barely wrap my head around the fact that you even wanted to get married. That was like a serious violation of playboy ethics."
"Hugh Hefner was married, and he had kids, all while wearing his silk pajamas."
"Hugh Hefner also is dating three identical blondes, Logan."
"You like Bridget, don't deny it. I've caught phone conversations with your mom involving a discussion on whether or not morning after conversation at the mansion is a practiced art."
"Okay, okay. But, I digress. Wait, it feels weird being normal again. Like I'm a bad person because I want to laugh again."
"No, Ror, you're wrong. It's okay to be silly and eventually even happy again. Colin told me right after Connor died that you have to celebrate instead of mourn."
"Did Colin quote the Bible?"
"Not exactly, but he paraphrased Thessalonians somewhat."
"Colin can quote the Bible?"
"He dated a Theology major for a little while."
"That seems like Finn's speed."
"I didn't say Finn didn't, now did I? Anyway, keep talking, I know you want to."
"Well, after some long and hard thinking, I decided that having a baby was a good thing-and then I started to get excited. Sometimes when you were at work, and I was here alone, I would just sit and daydream about all the things we could do with the baby, curling up next each other on the couch while the baby laid with us, taking turns reading passages from books we really liked, causing our kid to be the smartest in his preschool, just all the fun and love we could have. And I knew that you would be the greatest father; even if Mitchum was Idi Amin growing up, I just knew it. I got excited thinking about everything you guys could do together, watching you both grow together, changing, evolving. And now…" she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
He shook her a little, wanting to demonstrate his presence.
"We will still be able to do that. We haven't even explored our options yet- where there's a will, there's a way, Ace. "
A/N: I apologize for how long it took to get this chapter out. It was a very difficult process, one which I hadn't anticipated. The story has evolved almost organically on it's own, so I have no idea what the next chapters have in store. The poem that Logan reads at the funeral is an excerpt from one of Walt Whitman's poems, and the Bible quotation that Colin essentially paraphrases is 1 Thessalonians 5:16, "Rejoice Always". Thank you for your patience and support!