Rory drove North for hours, straight through Connecticut, trying to ignore the twinge of guilt she felt for not going to see her mother or her grandparents, on to Boston. As much as she loved her family, she needed to get some perspective on the situation before she shared it with them. Rory knew the best place to gain perspective was with her best friend. Paris Geller would tell her the hard truths, no sugar coating.

She pulled up to a gate at the end of a very long driveway, just outside of Boston, and rolled down her window to hit the buzzer on the gate.

"Yes?" A disembodied voice came from the tiny box.

"I'm here to see Paris," Rory replied.

"And you are?" the voice asked rudely.

"I'm Rory, I'm on the list."

"Please *crackle* while I call, Dr. *Pop*."

Rory assumed that meant she was to wait until whomever was on the end of the gate controls got a hold of Paris before she would be allowed entrance. She smiled at the ass-chewing the guy would get from Paris for making her wait. Rory was probably the one person on the 'admit any time' list at Casa Geller. And soon enough, the gate swung open.

"Please come in Ms. Gilmore, I'm so sorry you had to wait." The once rude voice was now nervously polite.

By the time Rory got to the house, Paris was already standing at the front door waiting for her. She looked the same as she had for years, long blonde hair pulled into a braid, wearing jeans and a Harvard Med tee-shirt.

"What are you doing here Gilmore?" Paris called.

"Can't a girl come see her best friend?" Rory called back as she got out of the car. She left her suitcase in the car for the time being, only grabbing her purse off the passengers seat.

Paris pulled her into a tight hug. "Not that it's not great to see you, but we spent the weekend together in New York two weeks ago."

Rory held onto the hug and tried not to start crying just yet. "I know." Before she could say more her cell phone rang. She could tell by the ring tone that it was Logan. She immediately sent the call to voicemail.

"What's going on Rory?" Paris asked, as kindly as Paris ever did anything.

Paris's unusual kindness made Rory lose the tiny bit of control she had over her emotions, and she started crying in earnest. "I left."

Paris stepped back from their hug, leaving her hands on Rory's shoulders. "Did Huntzberger cheat on you?"

"What? No! Logan would never do that to me." Her best friend gave her a look of disbelief. "Really. Logan didn't cheat. He knows why Jess and I split, he'd never put me in the position."

"Then what happened?" Paris asked. Her doctor's eyes started roaming Rory's body for physical evidence of why she left. Before Rory could even answer, Paris spoke again, "What happened to your arm? Did Logan hit you?"

Rory looked at her in surprise, then down at her arm. There was a small bruise on her upper arm. "Logan didn't hit me! I don't know how I got that. I probably bumped into something while I was walking and reading at the same time. You know how clumsy I am."

Paris gave her a puzzled look. "If he hurt you Rory…" she started, "I still know Krav Maga, I'll kick his ass!"

Rory laughed at Paris's threat. "Do you really think I'm such a bad judge of character that I'd be with someone who hurt me?"

"Well you're leaving."

"Not because of anything Logan did!" Rory shouted. "Geez, you act like I'm an idiot. Logan did not hit me! He's never laid a hand on me that wasn't out of love and affection. You've known Logan just as long as I have, have you ever seen him hurt anyone?"

"Well, he did hit Jess once…" Paris reminded her.

"Guy fights don't count. And Jess was being an ass and deserved it!"

"Okay," Paris finally conceded, "so what's going on then?"

"Can we talk about it inside instead of on your front porch?" Rory asked, taking in her surroundings.

"Come on in. Leave your suitcase, I'll have Jones bring it in later." Paris looped her arm through Rory's and they walked into the house. "I'm assuming you want to stay for a few days."

"Is that okay?" Rory asked.

"You're my best friend, of course it's okay. Same guest room as last time?"

"Sure."

"Why don't you go and wash up? Come down when you're ready and we'll have tea and talk."

"Thanks Paris." Rory walked up the main staircase to the second floor of the Geller mansion, and headed down the hall to find her room. It was the third door on the left. Rory privately called it the Yale Room. It was decorated in white and navy blue, and it was reserved for friends and family, as the walls were adorned with photos instead of artwork. She set her purse on the bed, and headed into the en suite to wash her hands and face.

She noticed in the mirror that her face was a mess. Her eyes were bloodshot and her nose was bright red. She shook her head at her image, and took one of the washcloths out of the cupboard to clean herself up. She left the bathroom with the washcloth still in her hand, and went to lay down on the bed for a few minutes before joining Paris for tea, and telling her about the whole mess. She laid down and covered her face with the cool damp cloth. As she lay there, she thought of Logan…

Four years earlier

Rory had been in New York for about six months. She was working for the Times, spending a lot of time on the road. Her divorce was final, but it still hurt. She always thought she was a 'one and done' girl. When she got married, it wouldn't be a spur of the moment thing, or because she had to, it would only be for true love. Somehow she thought that if she got married for the right reasons, it would last forever. Looking back it was silly not to even consider anything to the contrary.

New York was a great place to start over. She was closer to her family, and to Lane and Paris, but she was still far enough away to live her own life. She knew if she'd gone all the way home her family would make her life their project. This way she was close enough to visit more often, but far enough away to avoid matchmaking.

Since she was back in the area, Paris had taken to calling her to invite her to Yale Alumni events. She had to turn most of them down due to work commitments, but Paris had begged her to come along to a fundraiser for the Yale Daily News. 'It was such a big part of our lives at Yale, and it helped you to become who you are today, how could you not come help?' Paris had a knack for guilt trips.

Rory had succumbed to the guilt, which was how she found herself driving to Connecticut on a random Friday night. She'd arrived at the facility hosting the dinner, and gotten checked in when her phone buzzed. It was a text message from Paris – one of her patients found a donor and she had to perform transplant surgery right away and would thus miss the fundraiser.

"Damn it Geller," she muttered under her breath. She considered leaving, not knowing who else she'd find in the crowd, but changed her mind. It was a long drive, and really she wouldn't mind seeing Connie and AJ, and maybe Doyle would show up without Paris. Rory sighed, and made her way over to the coat check area and parted with her coat. This way she'd be forced to stay, at least for a little while.

She entered the room, and searched for her table. She was at table 23, right near the center. Instead of going to claim her seat and find out who else she was sitting with, she headed to the bar for a drink.

"Can I get a Grey Goose and tonic," she asked the bartender.

She felt someone come up beside her. "Hey Reporter Girl." She didn't turn her head to look and see who it was. Between the accent and the cologne, she knew.

"Can you make that a double?" she asked the bartender. "Hey Finn."

"You do remember me! I was worried that you might not since I haven't heard a word from you since before you graduated."

She shrugged, not knowing how to respond to him.

The bartender returned with her drink, "That'll be 8 dollars."

"Put her drink on my tab," Finn told him magnanimously.

"You didn't have to do that," Rory said.

"I know, but I figure this way, I'll at least get a few minutes to catch up with you. You wouldn't be so rude to someone who just bought you a drink now would you?"

"Of course not. So how've you been Finn?"

"Just fine Love. Enjoying the life of a hotel mogul. How about you? Married? Kids? Any Pulitzer Prizes I should know about?"

"No on all three counts."

"So who are you here with tonight?" Finn asked.

"Paris. Or at least I was supposed to be. She had to perform emergency surgery so she can't make it. What are you even doing here?"

"Come sit with me then Love."

"Finn. What are you doing here?" she asked again, growing suspicious at his non-answer from a moment before.

"Keeping Logan company. Come say hi at least?" His voice took on a wheedling tone.

Logan. She hadn't seen Logan since her graduation. She hadn't made an effort to keep track of him either. Her grandmother, however, couldn't seem to let it go, and so she was still semi-abreast of his situation. She knew he'd gotten married and that he'd sold his successful company in Palo Alto and moved back to Connecticut. She assumed he was back with HPG. However, when she and Jess got together, she started blocking out any sentence her grandmother started that had the word Logan in it. And since they'd split, she'd redoubled her efforts.

"Sure Finn." He put an arm around her shoulder, to keep her from escaping, and led her towards his table. His was close to the front of the room.

"Hey guys, look who I found!" he said loudly.

She looked around the table. It was Colin and some girl she didn't recognize, Juliet, Stephanie, Robert, and Logan. There was a seat for Finn, and the aforementioned extra seat. "Hi," she said shyly.

"Rory! How are you?" Robert asked loudly.

"I'm doing okay Robert, how about you?"

"Very well, very well," he told her. "You know everyone else right?"

"I think so, except the girl sitting next to Colin," she admitted. She was pretty good with names and faces, so she was fairly certain she'd never met the girl.

"Oh this is my wife Rachel," Colin said. "Rachel, this is Rory Gilmore."

"Rory Gilmore?" she said, "with the New York Times?" Rory nodded. "Wow, I read your stuff all the time, you're a great writer."

"Thanks. So what are you all doing here?" She knew that Logan was the only one who was ever part of the Yale Daily News.

"Just being supportive. If you've gotta give back, you might as well get a free dinner and a chance to catch up with your friends, right?" Colin answered.

"I suppose you're right Colin," Rory replied. The table went silent. Rory looked around, and watched everyone at the table look to Logan for cues as to what to do next. "Well, I guess I better go find my table," she said finally.

"Who are you here with?" Logan spoke finally.

"I was supposed to be here with Paris, but she bailed on me at the last minute," Rory admitted grumpily.

"Why don't you take the extra seat at our table?" Logan offered.

"I, uh," she paused, she couldn't think of a reason not to. "Thanks."

Logan pulled out the chair next to him, and gestured for her to sit down. Rory sat and the rest of the table went back to their own private conversations.\.

"So how's married life?" Logan asked her.

"Over," she told him simply, surprised he didn't already know. "How about you? Enjoying wedded bliss?"

"Nope. I got divorced almost two years ago."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't know."

"I'm sorry I didn't know about yours either. I'm quite surprised that I didn't know, given the society gossip and all."

"I'm pretty sure my grandmother told me you got divorced, but honestly, as soon as she says the name Logan, I stop listening."

"Wow Ace, that hurts," he told her.

"I didn't mean it like that Logan," she started to explain, "She never approved of Jess. I've spent the last 6 years hearing from her how much I screwed up by not marrying you. And when things went wrong with Jess, the last thing I wanted to hear was a big fat 'I told you so' from my grandmother."

"Well I can understand that then. Looking back, I'm pretty sure my mother made conscious efforts to keep me from learning about your divorce."

"Shira still hates me?" Rory asked.

"How could she not?" Logan said with a smile. "She spent the whole of our relationship telling everyone that you were gold digger who wasn't good enough for me, and then you turned me down. Made her look like a fool. Thank you for that by the way."

"Well that was my goal, make Shira look like a fool," she retorted with a smile.

Conversation between them came to a halt for a few moments, and Rory took in her surroundings. She looked for people she knew, finding no one other than those sitting with her.

"Logan, I'm…" she started, but he cut her off.

"Water under the bridge," he told her. "I'm over it."

"Thanks. So, what are you up to these days?" she asked, changing the topic to one that was more acceptable for mass consumption.

"I'm running the online media department of HPG. Living in Hartford. You?"

"New York Times," she reminded him.

"Congratulations on that by the way," he said.

"Thanks. You always did believe in me." Logan chuckled to himself. "What's so funny?"

"I'm not sure if you'll laugh at this or not," he started.

"Tell me Logan!"

"So your first byline when you got to the Times…"

"What about it? It was an article on the newly installed government in Iraq."

"I bought a copy of the paper-"

"You bought a non HPG paper?" she interrupted. "The horrors!"

"Shush. Are you going to let me tell this?" he asked. She nodded. "I bought a copy of the paper, and made about 100 photo copies of the article."

"Okay. Why?"

"I taped one in the middle of my father's desk. Every day until I ran out of copies."

Rory giggled. "Logan! You didn't!"

"Sure did. The first few days he didn't say anything, he just had a sour look on his face. But after a week or so, he started to get angry. You know how much he hates to be wrong. I swear the only thing that could be better is you winning a Pulitzer. When you do, I'm going to frame your article and mount it to his wall. With superglue."

"That's horrible!" she gasped through her laughter.

"He's horrible."

"Still that bad?" she asked more gently.

"He let up for a while. I got married, made my business a success, and he got off my back. When we came back to Connecticut, he welcomed me back to HPG with open arms, and with respect, not just his usual 'Logan, do as I say' manner." Rory nodded, encouraging him to keep talking. "Since the divorce, he's started treating me like I'm still the screw up I was back in college."

"I'm sorry Logan."

He shrugged. "It's Mitchum. It's to be expected. Let's talk about something happier. How did you end up in New York?"

"I'm not exactly sure that's a happier story," she told him, giving him a look. "After… I decided I wanted to be closer to home. I applied to a lot of papers in New York, Connecticut, and Massachusetts. When the New York Times made an offer, I couldn't resist."

The loud sound of feedback coming from the stage called an abrupt halt to their conversation. They spent the next hour eating mediocre food and listening to speakers going on about the importance of the Yale Daily News, as a tradition, to the school, and to the past and future members. Both Rory and Logan got mentions as success stories. Rory blushed furiously, and Logan smiled broadly.

At the end of the night as they waited for their coats to be returned, Logan asked "So, is your number the same as it used to be?"

"Nope. Is yours?" she asked in return.

"Nope."

They stood in silence for another minute or two.

"I really enjoyed talking to you tonight," Logan admitted. "I've forgotten what it's like to have intelligent conversation that's not completely business related."

"I enjoyed talking to you too. You should look me up if you're ever in New York."

Logan handed her his card. "Any chance I could get your number?"

"I'm not hard to find," she told him with a smile. The coat check girl handed over Rory's jacket, and she slipped it on and headed out the door.

That was the start.

Rory woke with a start, she must have fallen asleep. She glanced at her watch, to find that only about an hour had passed. She hurriedly got up, and rushed down stairs to find Paris.

"Paris? Where are you?" she called.

"I'm in the kitchen," her friend called back.

Rory made her way into the kitchen to find Paris sitting in the breakfast nook with a cup of tea and a plate of cookies. "You're such the homemaker Paris!"

"Shut up Gilmore. Nanny taught me to make tea and the cookies are store bought. You know what, you're lucky I'm even here today. I could have been up to my elbows in organs all day long."

"I'm grateful for your efforts Paris. If you weren't home I'd be sitting in your driveway waiting," Rory admitted.

"You ready to tell me what's going on?"

Rory plopped down in the seat next to Paris and poured herself a cup of tea. "You couldn't have made coffee too?" Paris merely scowled at her. Rory took a sip of her tea, then blurted it out. "I can't have kids."

"What are you talking about?"

"Logan and I have been trying for a while and so last week I went to see a fertility specialist. She called this morning with the results. I can't have kids."

"You can't get pregnant? Or your eggs can't be fertilized?" Paris asked.

"I don't know. All she said was that it wouldn't happen."

"And does Logan know this is why you left?"

Rory shook her head. "After what happened with his first wife…" she trailed off.

"Rory, it's not the same!"

"Yes it is! He wanted to have kids, she wouldn't. He divorced her."

"Yes, she WOULDN'T. Not she COULDN'T," Paris reinforced.

"Potato potahto," Rory said with a shrug.

"No it's not the same. Besides, Logan loves you."

"Yeah, and?"

"He didn't love her."

"I know."

"Why on earth would you just leave him over this?"

"I'm surprised you care about Logan, Paris. I seem to remember getting quite the earful from you when we started dating."

"When you were 20 and he was the biggest playboy on the Yale campus!" Paris sighed angrily. Rory just looked at her. "Don't you think Logan deserves to have a say in the matter? You're running away. Leaving him before he can leave you."

"I didn't realize psychology was your field Dr. Geller," Rory said snottily.

"You're textbook Gilmore."

Rory sat in silence for a moment trying to find a way to explain what she was doing. She knew Logan would stay with her even if she couldn't have kids. They loved each other. But she loved Logan so much she couldn't stand it if she was the reason that all of his dreams didn't come true. Before she could try to explain this to Paris her phone rang. It was her mother.

"Aren't you going to get that?" Paris asked.

"It's my mom. I'm not ready to try to explain all of this to her yet," Rory replied. Instead of sending the call to voicemail, which would arouse her mother's suspicions she merely let it ring until voicemail picked up. A minute later, the phone chirped indicating a message.

"It's not that I think Logan will leave me," she started.

"Then what is it?"

"I'm afraid he'll stay."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Yes. I'm afraid if he stays, he'll resent me later." Tears started streaming down her face again.

"There are other ways to have kids."

"Have kids, yes. Produce heirs, no."

"Really Rory-" Paris started, but she was cut off by the sound of Rory's phone ringing again. It was Lorelai.

"Damn it. I thought I'd have more time," Rory said. Paris gave her a quizzical look. "Logan must have called her looking for me."

AN: I still don't own any thing. In the next chapter, we'll find out what Logan's been up to, and probably a little more about how Logan and Rory reunited.

Please read and review… and again, I'll offer a snippet of chapter four for reviews. (Is that bribery?) Thanks so much for all of the reviews I've gotten so far, as well as the story alerts and favorites! You all are the best.

Thanks for reading and reviewing,

S