Disclaimer: I do not own the Gilmore Girls or any of its characters, nor do I have any connection or affiliation with the actors and actresses, producers, show-runners or the CW. Because let's face it – if I did, Gilmore Girls would still be on, Rory would've married Logan, and I wouldn't be writing this fanfic.

Rating: PG for now, for language.

Major Relationships: Rory & Logan, with Luke & Lorelai from time to time.

SYNOPSIS: This story begins on the night before Rory's going away party when she and Lane are talking on her front porch, after Lane has been temporarily taken away to try and get Rory off the porch. When Lane comes back, she tells her how panicked she is, how nervous she is, and how upset she is to leave her Mom.

If I Never See You Again

By Heather Nicole

Chapter 2

It was a mistake, moving into this house. He knew it from the second he pulled into the driveway and saw that damned avocado tree in the backyard.

He'd been here all of six hours and already, he hated it.

'Remember when you were excited about moving here?' He thought to himself.

But that was before. That was before he'd spent days plotting the perfect proposal. That was before he let Honor drag him from jewelry store to jewelry store to yet another jewelry store before he found it – the perfect ring. That was before he'd asked Lorelai permission to marry her one and only daughter. That was before he'd made a very grandiose, very public proposal to the only girl he'd ever loved. Make that the only person he ever loved, outside of his family.

If only he'd known the planning, the hours of shopping and yes, even asking Lorelai, would be the easier part.

He wasn't all that surprised when Rory asked to mull it over. That was Rory. He should've known better than to spring it on her in a public place … he just wanted her to feel as special as she made him feel. He should've known that instead of a horse drawn carriage, he should've supplied her with a legal pad and a pen so that she could make a pro-con list. He should've known to maybe haphazardly bring it up sometime beforehand to gauge her reaction.

'But I thought it went without saying,' Logan thought to himself.

This is what people did, right? They dated. They got serious about each other. They met each other's families. Maybe they lived together – not everyone did, but nowadays it's more and more common, and for he and Rory, it was what they did. Where else was there to go from here?

Of course, it wasn't really about the sciencificity of the proposal. It wasn't about the logic behind it. If it had really just been about logic and the way of the world, it wouldn't have been so disappointing.

No, it was that he loved Rory, with every bone in his body, and, him being 25 and ready to begin his own life and own career, and she nearly 23 and ready to do the same … it seemed only right that all these things taken into consideration, that they begin the rest of their lives together. It made sense. It fit, just as Rory fit with him in the most unexpected way he could've ever imagined.

Logan never anticipated that he'd be "ready" for marriage, at least not in the sense that he was ready to marry Rory.

Logan had expected that he would eventually be ready to marry in the sense that it was just what you did when you were heir to a considerable fortune and a multimedia conglomerate that was constantly in the public eye. You get married. You produce another heir. You do your duty to your family, to keep things pretty for Page Six, and when you're out of town, you hook up with a floozy to keep life interesting.

Logan had not expected that he would enjoy coming home to the same woman every night. He had not expected that he would enjoy shopping for her and buying her gifts. He had not expected that he would never be bored of her. He could never have even assumed that he would not get bored of sex with the same woman, day after day. He had not expected that he would feel an ache when she was not with him. He had not expected that he felt an unmistakable void in her absence, and a sense of happiness, warmth and fulfillment in her presence. He had not expected to desire to spend every waking moment with her until the day he died. He had not expected to imagine the home they would some day make, the family they would raise. He had not expected to speculate on what color hair his children would have, and if they would have Rory's beautiful blue eyes. But he did.

And so when he purchased that ring, and planned to propose, it was his sincerest hope that she would say yes, not because it was "just want you do" but because it was what he absolutely had to have to keep living, for he could not figure out how to live without her now that she had been in his life and helped him to become whole. He could not imagine what life would be like if he couldn't spend every day loving her, and showing her how grateful he was for helping him to become the man he was. And he couldn't push aside his most deep desire – that Rory would find him to be a great husband and wonderful father, which was a dream that, to him, had become more valuable to him than all the money in the world. He would live in a box and drive a tricycle, if he could live in the box and share the tricyle with Rory.

But she said no.

And so here he was, in Palo Alto, with a nice car, and a beautiful, new home, with an avocado tree growing in the backyard. The whole house reeked of Rory, even though she'd never been in the house. It was the house he'd planned the first stage of their new life in … and she wasn't in it.

Before leaving for California, it didn't occur to him how hard this would be. A house, is simply a house, isn't it? How surprising it was to discover that that's all this place was now, a house, which paled in comparison to the dreams he'd had for it – a home.

His bedroom was barely unpacked. The king bed looked so empty. His heart physically ached when the thought about how empty it would feel tonight.

He thought that moving to California without her would be the separation he needed. But if it were possible, it hurt him even more to be so far away from her. He asked himself the same question over and over again: how can I exist in a world where she is not existing with me?

He wondered about her. As he unpacked the boxes, he passed the time wondering. Had she found a job? Was she doing okay? Was she still depressed about the Times internship? And if she was depressed, who was taking care of her? Would someone lay around with her and watch The Office on DVD and laugh with her, even at the scenes she'd seen over and over again, while she cheered up? Who would remember what page of the book she was on when she, inevitably, lost her bookmark and her page, because she refused to dog-ear the pages? If she got a job, where was it? And most importantly … why did he give her an ultimatum?

He wanted to marry her so badly. And he knew that she wanted to marry him. There was just a difference on the timeline. And he could've waited a little while, he knew that. Maybe he should've just asked her to move out there with him and let her get settled, then discuss it later on. At least she'd be with him.

But he couldn't call her. Or could he?

No. He'd done this. He'd issued the all or nothing agreement. It wouldn't be fair to put that pressure on her now when she was looking for a job and adjusting to post-Yale life. And now, alone in California, he would have to lie in the bed he made, both literally and figuratively, alone.

As the sun began to set on Palo Alto, Logan realized that in all his wondering, all his pondering, his entire bedroom and bathroom had miraculously been unpacked, and the natural light became dimmer, and dimmer. It was nearly 10 p.m. in California. He knew that it was in the wee hours of the morning in Stars Hollow, and that Rory was probably sleeping. He wondered if she was dreaming of him. He wondered if he would dream of her. He simultaneously hoped for it and hoped he wouldn't. In his dreams, she was there, so real he swore she was really there and it lightened his heart … until he awoke to find that she was of course, not there.

He got into his pajamas, turned down his bed, and got in on his side – not hers – and hugged a pillow – a lousy substitute – to attempt to get comfortable, taking in the only comfort he could: this was the only time when he could be absolutely certain he was doing the exact same thing she was.

And so they both existed, one on the East Coast, one on the West Coast, both dying to call one another, both dreaming of each other, both blaming themselves for their current lonely state, missing each other, praying for some solution to their current pain.

And they slept. Or at least they tried to.

That is, until the phone rang.