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.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the wonderful feedback so far everyone. I appreciate the response. I hope you continue to enjoy the installments.

And also, to those readers who have left nasty reviews slamming Logan – no one asked you to read this story, no one forced you. Move along.

If I Never See You Again

By Heather Nicole

Chapter 6

Rory was stuck.

Stuck in Chicago, that is.

Her flight from Connecticut had taken off on time and was relatively smooth. She was wide awake after a surprise breakfast at Luke's, and a thermos of his coffee to go, which of course, she had to guzzle because she couldn't get all that liquid past the first security checkpoint. Lorelai tried, but Rory had a firm belief that she shouldn't be declared an international security threat, given that she was on her way to go work as a member of the press following a presidential candidate. She'd had a nice seat on the plane by the window and no one sat in the seat next to her, which eliminated the possibility for mindless, awkward, "friendly", soul-deadening chit-chat. And it also gave her plenty of personal space.

But now she was stuck at O'Hare. What was supposed to be a 45 minute layover was suddenly, two hours – and there was no end in sight. Rory was running out of things to do.

She'd called her mother.

She'd checked her email – nothing much. In fact nothing at all that was actually important. And she kept checking it every fifteen minutes. Nothing. Nothing at all.

She'd gotten coffee.

She checked her email again.

Finally, she decided she might as well pick up a few papers – the New York Times, USA Today, and the Wallstreet Journal. That should keep her busy.

As Rory settled back into her seat at the terminal that had remained constantly full since she arrived, she did feel pleasantly surprised at how strangely grown up she felt.

She was sitting in an airport, waiting for a layover, and the fact that it was late, in some strange way, almost made her feel a little more grown up, and a little more important. She wasn't just headed to vacation – she was headed to her first real job, this layover was more than a simple annoyance.

And so in the strangest way, she felt grown up, sitting in the airport terminal alone, sipping coffee from the nearest Starbucks kiosk, and reading the Wallstreet Journal.

'Maybe I can get the hang of this grown up thing,' she thought. 'Maybe it won't be so bad. I feel pretty good right now. Maybe this won't all hurt. Maybe I'm not running after all.'

But as she fingered through the Wallstreet Journal, her eyes settled on a small story that drew her in, and suddenly … she didn't feel good at all.

"Huntzberger heir takes on new gig," she read the headline to herself, softly, then moving onto the second deck, "Newspaper mogul's son breaks into business in San Francisco."

She only briefly read the article and the details before she closed the newspaper and shoved it, and the other two papers in bag. She didn't feel so much like reading anymore.

Now what would she do? She approached the desk attendant to ask how much longer they anticipated the delay would be. At least another forty five minutes.

Great. Just great.

Then, the familiar ring of her cell phone jangled from inside her purse. She peeked at the caller ID – it was Lane.

"Hey!" Rory answered, happy for the distraction.

"Hey yourself," Lane said. "How are you?"

"Ugh, I'm awful. I'm stuck in Chicago on this layover," Rory said.

"I know," Lane said. "I ran into your mom, she told me. I thought you could use someone to talk to."

"You thought right," Rory said.

"Plus, I have something really important to tell you, and it seems like the perfect time," Lane began.

"Oh, really? What?" Rory asked, excited.

"3065 Sunrise Drive," Lane said.

"What is that?" Rory asked.

"That …" Lane hesitated. "Is Logan's address in Palo Alto."

"Logan's … how did you …" Rory stammered, speechless.

"I called Logan a few nights ago – the night before your party, actually," Lane started. "When you went into use the bathroom, I looked through your phone and jotted down his numbers – and man, does that boy have a lot of numbers – and I just started making calls."

"Why did you do that?" Rory said, softly. Lane couldn't tell if she was angry.

"Because," Lane said. "Because you're my best friend and I don't want you to run away from his. I can see how much you miss him, and I just … I don't think you should have to. It doesn't seem like you're done with this."

"But I have to be," Rory said. "He made it clear. If I wasn't ready to move forward, then we were at an impasse."

"Isn't there another way to move forward?" Lane asked.

"He didn't leave much room for interpretation," Rory stated.

"Maybe it wasn't that he didn't leave much room for interpretation," Lane explained. "Maybe circumstances didn't allow for interpretation. I mean, time was tight, nerves were high, the pressure was on both of you. Maybe in a split second, when there wasn't much time to think, or rationalize, or analyze, some solutions were left out of the mix."

"What are you getting at?" Rory said.

"I'm saying that he missed you, and he wants you there with him," Lane said.

"As his wife … or at least as his fiancée," Rory finished.

"No," Lane said. "I mean, yes, eventually. But maybe you could go be with him and just be on your way to that. I mean, living in California, away from both of your families and your friends. That's different than living in New Haven, thirty minutes away from everyone in your life. This would really be a chance to start your lives. It would definitely be moving forward."

"I don't know how he'd feel about that," Rory asked.

"I do," Lane said. "You don't think I'd send you on a wild goose chase if I hadn't done a little research for you? He wants you there. And if this is how it has to be for awhile, he's okay with that. He's not done with you. And I know you're not done with him."

Just then, an announcement came over the loud speaker.

"Attention please," a female voice said. "All guests waiting to board flight 117 from Chicago to Des Moines International Airport, please be advised that we will begin boarding in 30 minutes. We apologize for the layover and any inconvenience the delay might have caused you."

"Lane, I have to go," Rory began. "They're going to start boarding in 30 minutes. I need to get my things packed up and make a last trip to the snack shop and the bathroom before I board."

"Are you mad?" Lane asked.

Rory thought.

"No … No, I'm not mad," Rory said. "I just can't think about this right now. It's great that he'd want me there. It's nice to know. But I wish he would've given me that option three weeks ago. I wish that option wasn't in front of me now, when I have to get on a plane to my future."

"I know, I know," Lane said. "It's inconvenient timing. But when is love ever convenient? I don't think convenient love works."

"Maybe, maybe not," Rory said. "All I know is … I just don't think there's anything I can do."

"Okay," Lane backed off. "It's your decision. And I will respect anything you decide to do because I'm your best friend, and I do trust that your happiness is something you can achieve, and if you get lost along the way, I will always be here to help you. … But can I say one last thing?"

"Go for it," Rory said, as she began packing her carry-on bag, and slipping her jacket on.

"Logan is a boy, and when a boy gets hurt when he puts himself out on a line … he doesn't always recover quickly, and sometimes, by the time he … grows a pair … enough to make a move, it's sometimes too late," Lane said. "Logan has left you with an opening here. And it's here, and it will be here for a little while, at least. So if you think that there's any chance that this is what you want and that this could work and that it's worth the risk to you, then do something about it. But do it soon. Don't leave it to chance. Because Rory … he will move on. Maybe not soon, but he will. Would you be okay with that? You don't have to answer that … it's just something to think over."

"Thanks Lane, I appreciate it, I do," Rory began, "And I will try to mull it over. But for now, I have to go. I love you – give the boys kisses for me!"

"I will," Lane said "And remember, 3065 Sunrise Drive. And I love you too."

Rory ended the call and made her way to the airport bathroom to freshen up. She stopped by the gift shop and grabbed a few magazines – she was one hundred percent certain that Glamour and Cosmopolitan would not mention Logan Huntzberger by name, so they should be safe. She grabbed a bag of cheese curls, a package of M&Ms and a small bottle of water.

As she exited the shop, she stopped briefly to put her magazines in her messenger bag, along with her snacks. She'd stepped forward to throw the bag she'd gotten in the trash when she was distracted by the board lighting up in front of her, listing flights leaving from the airport and was drawn to one particular flight.

Leaving in 30 minutes.

For San Francisco.

As she opened up her wallet to slip her receipt in, she was drawn to one other thing – a shiny American Express Platinum Card "for emergencies only" that Emily had given her when she was living in the pool house. Expiration date, 09/11.

Rory considered for a moment what Emily would consider to be an emergency.

Car trouble? Definitely.

A cup of coffee? Probably not, but $2 might go unnoticed.

A pair of shoes? Definitely not.

… A flight to San Francisco? Hard to say.

On the one hand, if it was a vacation, that would be inexcusable.

On the other hand, Emily and Richard loved Logan and were shocked to find out she had turned Logan down and really disappointed. If she swiped this card … to make amends … not that she was going to, and not that she could make amends … maybe that would be plausible.

Maybe.