7 – The Paths That Led Us Here

"Not too close to the water," Jess admonished as he helped Lily to put on her galoshes.

She made a face at him. "The duckies are close to the water."

"Still," Jess said firmly.

"Okay, Daddy," Lily said, then ran towards the pond. Jess shook his head and sighed as his daughter began to sprinkle breadcrumbs at the ducks. So like her mother, that combination of sugar and sass. He sat down on one of the benches, pretending to read his Carlos Ruiz Zafon, while watching his daughter carefully. Whenever she came with him to work, he would bring her to Bushnell Park for lunch. Of course, she insisted on feeding most of her sandwich to the ducklings instead of eating it. But that is why he had an emergency supply of fruit in his office.

"I wondered if you read The Shadow of the Wind," an unexpected voice said. Jess looked up at Rory, who was standing at the bench with an awkward smile. "I mean, there's the obvious book lover's angle that would entice you, but I would've thought you'd find the descriptions too flowery."

"It's very Baroque," Jess agreed. "Like a cathedral of words."

"Nice way of looking at it." Rory pointed her chin at the space next to him. "This seat taken?"

"No."

Rory sat down next to him, holding a cup of takeaway coffee in her hand.

"Luke is going to be mad that you're supporting the enemy," Jess remarked, closing his book and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He kept his eyes on Lily as she spoke. "Although I won't tell if you won't tell."

"Sounds fair," Rory said, sad that talking with Jess became so difficult. She had seen him on the bench when she walked through Bushnell Park, heading back to the office after successfully hunting down coffee on her lunch break. She had hesitated before joining him, finally prompted by the realisation that they both seem set in Stars Hollow for the foreseeable future. Since it was annoying to avoid someone in a hamlet the size of a stamp, and since a Christmas feast with all the extended family was looming ahead, she figured it would be better to get on friendlier terms.

"So what happened at your grandparents' Christmas shindig?" Jess asked abruptly. "Luke has been in a bad mood since."

Rory bit her lip. "Luke is upset that I got the new job because of a recommendation from Logan Huntzberger."

Jess merely nodded, the line of his shoulders stiffening. "Why would that upset him so much?"

"I guess a dislike of Logan runs in the family," Rory teased.

Jess glanced at her. "Seriously, though. He seems disproportionately upset."

"It's because of what happened with Sam," Rory explained reluctantly, waiting for the explosion.

Instead, Jess just furrowed his brow in puzzlement. "Who is Sam?"

"A journalist I met on the campaign trail a year or so ago," Rory said. "Luke never told you this?"

"Are you confused Luke with Miss Patty?" Jess crooked an eyebrow. "You know he only talks under duress."

Rory inclined her head. "True. Well, we met on the campaign trail. There was a mix-up with the room allocations that night."

"There's got to be a mistake somewhere," Rory stammered, holding her robe close tightly.

Sam smiled easily. "Whoever arranged the sleeping arrangements for this stop-over probably assumed that Sam Brown and Rory Gilmore are of the same gender. While it is certainly an inconvenient error of assumption to make, there is precious little we can do about it now."

Rory glared at the self-assured man at her hotel door. "I don't care what the other journalists on this campaign trail are getting up to. I'm not sharing my hotel room with a strange man."

"Admirable ethics indeed," Sam said politely. "However, I've just spent twenty-three hours on a variety of planes, trains and buses to get here. I am too tired to take advantage of you, however beautiful you are in your robe and bunny slippers."

"Don't mock my bunny slippers," Rory protested. "They're the only comfortable shoes I have."

"You understand how tired a person can be after chasing down stories all day," Sam said pursuasively. "I promise I'm just going to have a shower, brush my teeth, crawl into bed and wait for the sweet swell of sleep to quell that niggling thought that my dad was right and that being a doctor would've been easier."

Rory sighed. She had been looking forward to a quiet, relaxed evening with a female fellow journalist. Maybe one who would've been willing to help her touch up her nails, which were turning into demon claws fit to be featured on the Omen. A boy did not feature in her plans. Especially not a tall James McAvoy-type of boy.

"If I snore, you can throw me with a pillow," Sam added.

Rory felt herself waver. It was cold. It was late. It was raining a steady sleet of ice outside.

"If you feel strongly about preserving your space," Sam sighed, "I can probably slink down to reception and ask for another room. Given the No Vacancies sign flashing in the lobby, I think that's going to be futile. And, given the fact that there's three major concerts, two important basketball matches and one event of major political significance happening in this city tonight and tomorrow, I highly doubt I'll find anything but No Vacancies signs anywhere. And you wouldn't want to kick a fellow journalist to the curb when you have a perfectly good bed going spare in your room, would you?"

Rory sighed.

"Besides, I can't be crazier than some of the girls you've had to share your room with."

Despite her misgivings, Rory smiled. "You mean you're saner than the one who insisted on having all the lights on all the time or the one who needed to have Michael Bolton playing before she could fall asleep?"

"And I won't pilfer your favourite nail polish either."

He really couldn't be worse than some of the girls she's had to share with, Rory thought, and she begrudingly held the door open. "I'm going to clobber you with the pillow if you snore."

"Sounds fair," Sam grinned.

"I bet Lorelai loved that," Jess said evenly.

"I didn't have much choice," Rory pointed out. "I could hardly send him out into the cold, wet night to catch his death of pneumonia."

"Of course not, Mother Teresa."

"Besides, he brought me coffee and an assortment of pastries the next morning."

"So of course you were firm friends, Miss Sesame Street."

"Of course," Rory replied, refusing to rise to Jess's gentle ribbing. "And it's clear which journo's are friends with each other and which aren't. Especially if you've lived your life in newsrooms. Like Mitchum has."

"So Mitchum saw you were friends with Sam? So what?"

"That's what I thought," Rory drew a deep breath, thrusting her hands in her coat. "Except that he went to California and told Logan that he made the biggest mistake of his life letting me get away."

"I thought Blonde Dick Senior liked you as much as I liked Blonde Dick Junior?"

Rory frowned at him and he made a placatory gesture. "Until he saw how much I brought out the ambitious side of Logan and decided that perhaps I'm not the golddigging trainsmash he thought I was."

A muscle jumped in Jess's jaw as he bit down on angry words.

"Through some twist of fate I've never quite understood, Colin and Finn decided to see if Sam was indeed worthy of the Great Gilmore, as they put it. I have a feeling a lot of tequila went into that particular decision making process. So they abducted Sam from a press conference for some Life or Death Brigade type of stunt."

Jess's eyes widened in disbelief. Rory nodded. "I'm serious. They kept him kidnapped for forty-eight hours, then dropped him back at the conference centre with a Nike logo shaved onto his head."

"I remember reading about that," Jess said slowly, then whistled through his teeth. "So Luke and Lorelai blame Logan for orchestrating the fake kidnapping of a close friend of yours. No wonder they're so set agains the idea of you taking the job with Professor Tarkington."

"My grandparents think it is some grandiose gesture of love," Rory said, "but I think Logan pulled the strings because he felt guilty for what Colin and Finn did."

I don't think he's capable of emotions like guilt, Rory, I think he's trying to get you back.

"You be careful, okay," Jess said gruffly.

Rory felt tired, too tired to spar. "It's just a job, Jess."

"Yes. But be careful nevertheless."

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Jess's warning echoed through her head for the rest of the afternoon. She heard his voice as she drafted an analysis of the situation in Iran. She heard his voice as she showered after work. She heard his voice as she got dressed, got in the car and got on her way to meet Logan.

You be careful, okay.

She shook her head, trying to dislodge his voice and her own sentiments. Logan had always been reliable, punctual, trustworthy. And he had really stepped to the plate, emulated Florence Nightingale, when her grandfather had been hospitalised. And yet … and yet there had been flashes of violent temper, moments of cruel hostility, a certain current of possessiveness that had run through everything he'd done. Whenever someone showed interest in her, whenever he felt threatened, he would snarl like a cornered animal. Look at his reaction when he came back a night early from Nebraska to find her and Jess in her grandparents' driveway. Look at how he treated Marty. Do all boys react like that?

"You're being ridiculous, Gilmore," Rory told herself resolutely, steering the Prius into a parking lot. "Logan is just Logan. A little spoilt, perhaps, but that's the worse you can say about him. Besides, he'd never do anything to hurt me."

You be careful, okay.

Rory parked the car and drew a deep breath. "Besides, I'm excited to see him again," she admitted softly to the silence around her. "Besides, I think I might still love him."

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A/N: Please review!