A/N: Thank you to everyone that reviewed. I know that you've got questions (i.e. Who the heck is Tristan marrying??) but all I can say is that the answers will come in time. For now, dear readers, please sit back, relax and enjoy the second chapter of 'Changing Times.'
I don't own Gilmore Girls,the WB or Amy Sherman-Palidino but I'm privileged to be able to use the world and make my own story!
Chapter 2 - Walking Back into Reality
It was truly amazing what a few weeks of introspective thinking and escape from your worries could do for a person. For me, it gave me the perspective to see that while a part of me would always love Dean, I couldn't be in love with him. He would always be special to me because he was my first - boyfriend, love, lover. But being with him those two days before I'd gone off to Europe had shown me one thing about him that I'd always denied before. Whether the circumstances were right or wrong didn't really matter, in the end he just wasn't the right guy for me.
The discoveries I made about myself and my recent interactions with Dean made coming home to Stars Hollow extremely difficult for me. Even Tristan staying with me for the last week of summer before we both headed back to our respective Ivy League colleges didn't help all that much. I felt so horrible for what I'd done, for what I'd allowed Dean to let me believe without questioning him. For days before we headed back to Connecticut, I prayed that Dean would be gone. Or that Lindsay would. Anything that would make it easier for me. Unfortunately that's not what I found when I did get home.
Fortunately, what I did find was a twist of fate that I hadn't expected. Lindsay and Dean were still together. After I had left town, Dean had told Lindsay what had happened. They fought. They made up. And now they are having a baby. Whatever the state of their relationship had truly been before we'd slept together, Lindsay and Dean were happier than ever by the time I came back to town 10 weeks later. Of course I didn't get away completely unscathed, there was one minor ugly encounter with Lindsay that I would like nothing better than to forget.
"I sure hope you're not trying to steal him from some other poor, unsuspecting woman." Lindsay said to me when Tristan and I ran into her in the middle of town square.
"I beg your pardon?" I chocked out. I certainly hadn't expected her to approach me - hostile or not. I didn't think she would want anyone to know that her husband had cheated on her.
She looked pointedly at Tristan, who stood silently beside me with a smirk on his face. "I always wondered if there was something going on between the two of you. You always just seemed too comfortable with each other." She looked us both over, pausing briefly on the hands we held between us. "I know you were a virgin when you slept with my husband but maybe now that you've lost that, and your morals, you've decided any woman's man is good enough for you."
I could only stare at her, like an open-mouthed, drooling idiot for a few seconds before my hard sought resolve flashed back into place.
"Lindsay I know that it doesn't mean all that much now, but I'm sorry. I never set out to hurt you and I certainly never intended for what happened to, uh, happen. I-"
"Just stop." She told me and it seemed like she too was still grappling with how to deal with this situation.
"I'm only in town for four more days." I said softly. "After that I'll only be around every once in a while."
"You don't have to leave town Rory." She sighed. "I admit that the thought crossed my mind but this town is as much your home as it is mine, and Dean's. We're all just going to have to figure out how to deal with each other." Her tone was honestly thoughtful and that only made me feel worse. Lindsay really didn't deserve what Dean and I had done to her.
"It's not so much me leaving town. I'm going to school." I explained and I was firm in my resolve. This was the conclusion that I had come to after hours, and hours of debating what I could do. "I was always going to be going back to school. I just won't try as hard to come back, at least not very often."
Lindsay looked away, seeing something that only she could envision in the distance. After what seemed like hours she finally looked back. Her lip and chin trembled slightly. "Maybe I'll go to Hell for this, because I know this isn't fair to Lorelai, but I'm happy that you won't be here. I love Dean and I know that he loves me. Still when you're around it's like I'm not quite enough. I don't quite measure up."
"Lindsay that's not true." I tried to argue. We both knew it was to Dean though. At least for now. She smiled slightly and then nodded to Tristan.
"Have a nice life Rory."
Tristan and I spent our last couple of days focusing on this issue of "The Wedding," as we'd come to think of it over the course of the summer. Like I'd said right from the beginning, it wasn't something that had just cropped up out of no where. He'd known, we'd both known that it was going to come sooner or later. Of course, he'd been hoping for later but even he admitted that since we were all turning 21 that year, the ticking of that particular bomb had been getting louder for some time in his mind. He'd just been avoiding it. And the bride.
Somehow the remainder of the summer didn't end up being too bad and when we went our separate ways - him to Princeton and me back to Yale - I felt much better about things than I had in quite some time.
Little did I know, that those feelings of contentment and even confidence were going to be needed more than ever once I found my way back into the hallowed halls of Yale.
Marty and I turned away from the coffee vendor and continued our conversation.
"I mean, I always thought I looked a lot like my Uncle Jerry, and, gee, Mom seemed to really like him." I was listening to his tale about his summer vacation and I could barely keep myself from laughing.
"I cannot believe this." I said with a shake of my head. I was literally reeling with shock underneath my amusement. "After all this time, your mother tells you now."
"My Dad looked relieved." He said it lightly but I looked at him closely trying to determine whether there was something more lurking on the inside. Unlike with my other friends - Tristan and the others - I couldn't read Marty's face, I couldn't guess his emotions.
"He did not." I said with some sympathy.
Marty glanced at me and gestured dramatically as he spoke, wiping an arm across his brow. "I swear, I heard him say 'whew.'"
I could only stare. "Oh, that is amazing." And he shrugged.
"So, what did you do over the summer?" The question was innocent enough, and normally wouldn't have made me uncomfortable but at that moment I recalled very briefly the look on my Mother's face when she walked into the house and found me with Dean.
"Well. We so should have started with me." I wasn't about to tell him what had happened with Dean, but I figured I could tell him something of the time that I spent in Europe with my grandmothers.
Just then a guy in a red sweater vest bumps into Marty from behind and he turns to see who it was. When he spots Sweater Vest and the guys he's with, Marty moves to stand beside me.
"Oh, sorry." He tells them.
Sweater Vest responds and instantly his tone sets me on edge. "No, seriously, you couldn't see me there?"
The nerve of this guy!!!He had walked into Marty. Marty and I hadn't even started to walk away from the barrista yet.
"Not every one's staring at you Colin." This guy certainly looks more footloose and fancy free and as he throws his arm around Sweater Vest's shoulders, his Australian accent registers in my mind.
But before Marty or I have any chance to respond to 'Colin's' hostility, the third guy in their group, a blond with messy hair and wearing a blazer cuts in. "Hey, I know you. No, wait, wait, don't tell me. I'm seeing a uniform of some sort."
"Maytag Repairman?" The Aussie suggests with a snigger. I glare at him and Colin.
"I've bartended for you. For your parties." Marty is saying to Blondie.
"That's right, you have. You're a talented man." Blondie compliments Marty with a smile and I have to admit that he's got a really great smile. "He makes a kick ass margarita!"
Marty chuckles embarrassed. "Thanks."
"It's good to see you again. What's your name?"
"Marty." And with a nod in my direction he introduces me as well. "Uh, this is Rory."
Blondie doesn't even glance in my direction but as he continues his conversation with Marty, asking him if he'd be interested in bartending more parties this year, I'm fully aware of the Aussie and Colin studying me. Marty and the blond wrap up their chat and Blondie starts to walk away. Colin apparently decides that he's got to get one more dig in.
"Excellent shirt." He says in Marty's direction and the sound of his voice would put my grandma Emily to shame. Then he looks at me. "I can see what you see in him."
"Don't be an ass Colin!" Blondie yells back at them.
"Me? Never." Sarcasm literally drips from the words. "I'm a friend to all people, large and very, very small." And with that he turns and follows Blondie and the Aussie through the court yard and into a nearby building.
"I kind of hate those guys." Marty says, but something in his tone makes me hesitate before making any reply. In all honesty, they probably could have been much, much worse to him. I'd seen confrontations just like this at Chilton. I'd been involved in some of them. But even I could admit that Colin's hostility, apparent right from the start, didn't really make much sense.
"Really?" I finally answered dryly. "I can't see why."
The interlude in the courtyard was as far from my mind as possible when I returned to my dorm later that day. Paris had finally arrived and she was devastated. Not that she showed it, mind you, but I'd been her best friend for years and just like with Tristan, I could see what others didn't. I spent the rest of the evening with her, consoling her when she finally allowed a few tears to fall and supporting her efforts when she decided that she wanted to have a wake for her recently deceased lover - Professor Asher Fleming.
It was in this effort to support my friend that I ended up running into Blondie, the Aussie and Sweater Vest (aka Colin) again. I can honestly say that there have been very few times in my life that I've wanted to yell at someone and give them a peice of my mind. Usually only Tristan, and some of the guys that he hangs out with, is able to get me as upset as Blondie has managed within one day of making my acquaintance. It's ironic really because I don't even know his name, and he didn't even remember mine, but I couldn't just let him get away with treating Marty the way he had.
Somehow, and I don't even know how he managed it, what started as an attempt on my part to give him a dressing down turned into a debate of sorts. While I will never admit that he actually got the better of me, at least not out loud, I will allow that he does have a superior talent for manipulating conversation to his whim. 'Master and Commander'indeed! I certainly will never stoop so low as to actually call him that. Now, a few days later I can look back and laugh at our conversation. I still can't believe that I told he was acting like Judi Densh and what's more, I can't believe that he actually understood the insult. Perhaps there is more to Blondie than I thought.
I was interupted from my colorful thoughts by a rukus just outside the door of the Yale Daily News office and the resulting whispers that moved through the room where I sat at my desk. Then, in a twist that I hadn't seen coming, Blondie swaggers through the door as if he owns the entire office and heads directly towards her. Or perhaps, towards Doyle who just happened to have stopped beside her.
"Oh no." Doyle muttered.
Rory turned and looked up at him. "What?"
"He's back." Doyle said under his breath and then smiled at Blondie as he reached us.
"Doyle, my friend." He said as they shook hands. "You're looking very, very well, how ya been?" I wondered if Doyle could hear the sarcasm in Blondie's voice.
Doyle answered in a fake, cheerful voice. "I've been great Logan. Great to have you back." And yep, Doyle had heard the sarcasm and this whole scene was like a play being performed for an invisible audience.
"Yeah, well, I stayed away as long as I could, but the Yale Daily News called to me." Logan told him.
"Oh, sure. Sure. So how's everything? How's the family?" Doyle asked. 'How's the family?' Seriously the guy might be a great editor but he is utterly lacking in small talk skills.
Logan smiled that same winning smile, the one he's flashed at Marty earlier in the week, and responded. "Everything's fine, the family's the family... Ah, my desk. Beautiful."
I listen as Doyle explains that he's already given away all of the assignments and Logan explain that it doesn't matter. He even tells Doyle that he's only "here for the pretty picture in my father's head." I shake my head as they talk. Nepotism is apparently avid in the newsroom at Yale and it makes me wonder who Logan's father is. Not that it really matters, who ever he is - whatever he is - doesn't change what Logan is. My attention is caught as Logan looks at me and smiles.
"Rory. Nice to see you." I didn't respond but smiled slightly before turning back to my computer. Or at least that was my intention. Suddenly Doyle was looming beside me.
"You know Logan? How do you know Logan?" He demanded.
I frowned and glanced quickly over at Logan before turning to face Doyle. "No, I don't know him. I met him. A friend introduced us."
"So you're not friends?" Doyle asked again and he too glanced over at Logan, who by this point had found paperclips in the drawer of his desk and was playing with them.
"No, definitely not friends." I assured him with a shake of my head.
So Doyle leaned closer and lowered his voice. "That guys a real piece of work. He took last year off with a bunch of his friends to sail Daddy's yacht around. Till he sank it."
"He sank his father's yacht?" This was amazing. You'd think that something like that would have been big news in society. I might have spent most of the last three months in Europe but I still should have heard about this - even though I didn't know what Logan's name was or what his family was 'in,' I knew that he was from society.
"Right off of Fiji." Doyle assured me with a nod and made another quick glance towards the topic of our conversation before continuing. "They spent six months gallivanting and partying and doing God-knows-what else, until Daddy sent one of his planes to bring him back."
I managed, barely, to keep from curling my lip with disgust. Apparently Logan is even worse than I had assumed. "I'm guessing his father's rich." I didn't phrase it as a question, it was more than obvious that Logan was rich.
Doyle scoffed. "His father is Mitchum Huntzberger."
I froze.
I'd like to say that it was only with surprise but it wasn't. Oh shit. Even as I continued my conversation with Doyle my mind reeled with this new information. Blondie was Logan Huntzberger, famed playboy, prankster and all around slacker. I'd never met him because by the time I'd started moving about in society, he'd been shipped off to a succession of boarding schools that - if the rumors were true - numbered in the double digits. Underneath all of these realizations was another, equally important one. Logan Huntzberger was the only son of Mitchum Huntzberger and small incestuous world that Hartford Society seemed at times, Mitchum Huntzberger was one of my Grandfather Hayden's good friends. So was Mitchum's father, Elias Huntzberger.
Well. Shit. Doyle started walking away and I glanced over at Logan.
He lifts the phone to his ear and follows Doyles progress first toward and then past his desk as he says in a very '1920's reporter' voice. "Hello, city desk? Smitty here, take this down. I've got a hot scoop on a tall blond and I gotta put it to bed on the double!" He hangs up the phone and laughs at Doyles expression. He glances at me and winks, then kicks his feet up on the desk, leans back, tips his hat over his face and settles in for a nap.
I keep my expression as stoic as I can until I'm pretty sure that he's not paying any attention to me. Then I turn back to my computer screen and allow a smile of amusement, and a small chuckle, to escape my control. Things may have just become seriously complicated but they could always be worse.
A week later I'm busy working on an article. Research mostly but I am trying to do a rough draft as well. Every few minutes I curse the name Huntzberger because it's the only link I've got to the 'Life and Death Brigade' and Logan refused to admit that he'd ever heard of the group. As I glance up I notice Paris face is twisted into something of a grimace.
"Hey. You okay?" I ask her.
She nods but turns a bit green. "Yeah. I think I had some bad host at one of the masses yesterday." She walks over to her desk and sits down. Logan slips in through the door and heads straight to his desk. Then he logs into his computer. Strange.
A minute later, I understand why he's here as an instant message pops up on my screen.
L - Hey Ace. I've got a proposition for you.
I glance over and see that he's watching me. I bite my lip in contemplation before I reply.
R - Shoot.
L - I'll help you with your article. Get you the inside scoop. You just have to agree to a few conditions first.
R - What conditions?
L - The first condition is you have to agree before you know the conditions.
I bite my lip again and frown.
L - What do you say Ace? You in, or out?
I smile. I may be hesitant but I'm sure not going to lose my chance at this scoop.
R - I'm in.
I look up and glance in his direction. Except he's not there. He hadn't even waited for my answer, so sure that I would agree. I shake my head in exasperation and decide that perhaps it's time for me to call my Grandfather (Grandfather's?) and have a chat with him about the 'Life and Death Brigade.'
So this concludes chapter two... Are you still liking it? Am I wasting my time?
Let me know what you think and one lucky reviewer will get a sneak peek at chapter three!!