A/N: I actually re-watched Summer to overview this chapter (something I promised myself I wouldn't do again), my goodness that episode fills me with so much sadness and rage.

Thank you so much for your reviews and thoughts, it is always a joy to read them.

Chapter title from 'Only Love Can Hurt Like This' by Paloma Faith.

Part 8

i tell myself … what we got, got no hold on me

Rory pulls on a sweater, the night air uncharacteristically cool for the cusp of summer, and heads out the front door of her mother's house with her phone in her hand. She doesn't want her to overhear her conversation and she really doesn't want to handle her inevitable questioning. It's been a week since she burst back into Stars Hollow in an exasperated frenzy, and Lorelai has (understandably) been pushing for more of an explanation than "Everything sucks, especially me!"

She begins walking the width of the house as she waits for Logan to answer.

Which he does after only two rings.

"Ace, I'm glad you called. I've been worried."

Rory sighs, there's only so long she can avoid his calls for, but she has no idea how she's supposed to explain the complete cesspit her life has become.

"Ace …" he repeats after a pause. "Rory … are you there?"

"I blew it." She murmurs.

"What's wrong?"

"I blew it!"

"Blew what?"

"What do specifics matter? I blow everything!" She exclaims in frustration.

"Don't." She warns, before he can make any manner of suggestive comments she's sure he wants to make.

"I wouldn't dare." He smiles; they both know if she weren't so clearly upset, he definitely would. "Take a breath Ace, tell me what's wrong."

Where to begin …?

"Everything!" she repeats, pacing the porch.

He waits patiently on the other end of the line.

"I blew the Condé Nast meeting."

"I thought you said it went well and you were following a story."

"I lied, well not about the story, I did pick one up but it was crap; and I'm crap for not realising it sooner; and I'm utter crap for how I handled it."

"Rory, you are not crap, certainly not utter crap."

"I was embarrassed. I didn't want to admit how badly I screwed it up."

"You never have to be embarrassed with me." He promises and it's so earnest she thinks she feels her heart twinge.

"I know you said you were struggling with an angle on it … let me help you. If there's one thing you learn in London it's how to queue for stuff." He tries to joke.

"It's not about that, it's not just about that. It's …"

"What?"

Rory chews on her lip. She definitely shouldn't tell Logan this, it might make her feel better to get it off her chest but he's not going to like it (plus, it makes her sound slutty). As she's telling herself why she shouldn't tell him, the words fly out of her mouth anyway.

"I slept with a source."

Logan's jaw clenches as he takes in her words, he reaches for the scotch glass on the desk in front of him and takes a gulp. It's way too late (or possibly way too early) to be drinking, but right now, he requires alcohol.

He knows he has no right to be angry. They're not exclusive, not by a long shot. She's entitled to sleep with whomever she chooses. But the fact that not only does he have to share her with the boyfriend she can't be bothered to break up with, but now with randoms she meets while researching a story too, was a little hard to bear. (But at least this confirms his assumptions that her relationship with the boyfriend is uncommitted. So he can feel a little bit less like an asshole for that.)

"Logan … did you hear what I said?" Rory mumbles into the phone, having retreated onto the porch swing.

"I heard you."

He does not sound happy but she expected that. Despite their current casual status, they had both always been a little possessive over each other.

Logan considers pressing further but he has no desire to think (let alone talk) about Rory with anyone else.

"So I assume the article is a no-go now?"

"Yep, it pretty much died alongside my journalistic ethics."

He can hear the self-loathing in her voice and despite his own feelings about her declaration, he can't stand to hear her so low.

"Ace, it's not that bad."

I cannot believe that I am defending her sleeping with another guy, he thinks to himself. What am I doing lately? What happened to my ethics?!

"Oh really?" she responds sarcastically.

"Really, plenty of reporters have done worse, some have even won a Pulitzer for their efforts. I know a lot of them, I can give you names if that would help?"

She laughs ironically. "I'm a failure. And a terrible journalist."

"Do not ever say that. Naomi Shropshire being a lunatic has thrown you off your game, but you are a great journalist, you're just going through a rough patch. You've had such a tough year. Writer's block isn't just for melancholy novelists you know, it happens to us all. I still maintain that I suffered from writer's block through high school and college."

"Yeah, that's what it was – writer's block. Not the fact that you'd rather party on a yacht than be caught dead in a library." She teases him.

"I had to go where the muse took me," he smiles through the phone, "it just so happens that my muse comes to life around liquor."

She giggles, and just like that, he manages to lighten the tone of their conversation and of the dull ache in her heart.

"You said in one of your texts that the SandeeSays thing didn't work out." He nudges.

Rory groans. "No, it most definitely did not. Suffice to say, I was an idiot and the less we say about it, the better."

"Okay." Logan nods in compliance even though she can't see him.

She's in a tailspin and it kills him that he's so far away when she caves in, he wants to be able to be with her, to support her through it (to prevent her from jumping into bed with the next line-aficionado she interviews). He's not sure how effective a pep-talk is going to be over the phone but he's got to give it a try.

"Are you ready for the take home message now?"

"I guess." She accedes reluctantly.

"You are not, by any definition, a failure. You have had more success than most young journalists dream of; you have travelled across continents, writing brilliant, thoughtful articles for a huge breadth of publications. Your talent shines through, that's why Condé Nast wanted to meet with you, why SandeeSays chased you. You are intelligent and amazing and beautiful, and you will get through this."

He puts time and meaning into each word, trying to connect with and soothe her through a phone line across so many miles. He hates the distance between them and deliberates, and not for the first time, why he didn't quit his job in London and return home as soon as they reconnected in Hamburg.

Rory uses all the strength she has to stop herself from crying. Logan never fails to build her up but he doesn't expect her to be perfect, sometimes it feels as if he might be the only one. If it were possible to love him even more than she already does, then she just might.

Just this once, she'll let her emotions out. "I miss you."

"I miss you too."

"I know I was supposed to come over a few weeks ago and then the whole Naomi thing fell through and I didn't, but maybe I could come see you soon?" She pleads, and she hates the desperation in her tone.

"Absolutely. Just let me know when." He agrees, firmly.

Rory wills herself to change the subject, before she breaks down and begs him to jump on a plane tonight to meet her.

"So, what's going on with you?" She poses breezily.

Where to begin …?

Shit, he thinks. This is it, the best opportunity at a opener for 'by the way my fiancée now lives with me' that he's likely to get in this conversation, but he can't tell her all this over the phone. She sounds so defeated and this would be like kicking her when she's down.

When Odette had steamrolled into his home a week ago, declaring that no, she didn't call to let him know she was coming as she wanted to give him as much warning as she'd had; Logan had been thrown, to say the least.

He fetched her a glass as she opened a $200 bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape without preamble and began to guzzle it in between snatches of explanation.

Her father had sold her apartment without telling her, effectively kicking her out ("Your name isn't on the deeds?" he'd queried incredulously. "Of course, I'm not on the deeds. If he let me own anything he wouldn't have anything to cut me off from would he?!"); and she had been forced to step down from her job.

Logan had felt for her; in many ways Odette is a fairly typical socialite who loves to spend money and have a good time but she committed a huge amount of time to establishing a charity for young people with eating disorders, and being terminated as chairperson had hit a nerve.

When she had complained to her parents, she had been told that it was about time she and Logan settled down and finalised a wedding date, and that her place was in London now ("apparently, we're not acting like a truly 'engaged' couple, no idea why that is?!"). Her mother had not so subtly indicated that if she were to fall pregnant, it would likely help to "encourage" Logan to speed up the wedding ("also, evidently I'm not getting any younger so best to get started on those heirs ASAP.").

Logan had listened to her justifiable ranting but couldn't understand why she'd been put in this position. "Well, it's obvious." Odette berated him. "You did something didn't you? Something to give them pause, a reason to doubt that we were going to go through with this."

Fuck.

He thought of Rory, and his father's reaction to seeing them together, his insistence that his and Odette's engagement would continue.

Odette watched his expression change. "I knew it. I knew you'd screwed up. You promised me Logan, you swore to me that you would get my father to agree to the purchase, or the merger, or whatever it is, without us getting married."

"I know." He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"We were supposed to just be having fun. It wasn't supposed to get this far. You said I wouldn't have to give up my life." She said, her lip quivering.

Logan pulled her into a hug. "It's okay. I'm sorry. I will straighten this all out. I promise."

No idea how, he thought to himself, but I can't let her know that I've potentially screwed up both our lives beyond repair. Not until I figure out how to fix it.

She drew back from him and grabbed the bottle of red, "I need a bath. Or maybe a sedative, but for now a bath and the wine will have to do.

"Shit." Odette cursed as she headed for the stairs. "I didn't even think to check … you don't have anyone here do you?" She blushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I should just go to a hotel, I still have Papa's credit card at least."

"No … no, there's no one here." Logan answers, despising himself for even being in this situation. "And you shouldn't have to go to a hotel. It's my fault you're homeless and there's plenty of room for us both, so you should just stay here."

"You sure it's okay?"

"Of course it's okay."

It isn't okay. Which is why he's choosing to stay through the night at the office rather than go home.

It doesn't even feel like home at the moment; he feels as if he's intruding in Odette's space, when he supposes technically she's intruding in his. They've never spent this many consecutive days together in such close quarters and they just don't seem to gel as cohabitants.

It's not helped by the fact that the more he sees Odette in the apartment, the more he thinks of Rory there – working on her laptop cross-legged on the couch with her hair in a bun and a determined look on her face; pacing the kitchen, coffee in hand, as she chatted on the phone to Lorelai, or Lane, or Paris; rolling over in the night to lay her hand on his chest, she never fully snuggled in her sleep insisting his body was akin to a furnace, but she always liked to be touching.

"Logan …" Rory prompts. "Are you still there? You've been quiet for ages."

"Yeah, sorry. I'm still here." He answers confusedly. What had she asked about?

"Um … things are mostly the same."

Lie.

"Work's busy."

At least that's true. The more he succeeds at work, the more pressure his father attempts to pile on under the guise of preparation for "the day this company is all yours".

Now he's certain he never actually agreed to ultimately run the entire company when he came back to HPG, but just like with the interference in his personal life it's been chipped away at slowly but surely, until his wishes are almost entirely irrelevant.

He isn't proud of the decisions he's been making lately and he's lost sight of what he's doing and why.

It used to be because that was what was best for his job, and best for his father's health. Then it became about not disappointing his mother too. Then about keeping Odette's family on side while he negotiated with her father and his associates. Add in his desire to make Rory happy, and it was all a lot of excuses he could use to justify not doing what he really wants to do.

Which is …?

He's not exactly sure. But either shipwrecked on a deserted island or a solitary cabin in the woods sounds pretty good right now.

"I can't wait to see you." He says honestly.

I'll wait until she's here in person, he thinks. I'll plan us some special trips and tell her all about the situation with Odette. She's never really asked that much but if I can just get her here, I can explain and we can talk this all out.

It'll be fine.

She just had to get out of there. It's only been a couple of weeks but Stars Hollow feels claustrophobic to her in a way it never has done before. She can't cope with everyone welcoming her like a war veteran when she's actually run home to her mommy, licking her wounds, after crashing and burning in the real world.

Even her own bedroom is suffocating her now, the walls felt as if they were closing in as April offloaded her own anxieties onto her. Which Rory understands, she's been there – 22, college graduate, not knowing what lies ahead. But, she's 31 now and her life's an absolute shit show so how exactly is she supposed to help April?!

She knows that she isn't due to go and see Logan for another few weeks, but she can't wait that long. He's left her messages. She needs him. So she calls him.

And then any remaining wind in her sails gets thoroughly knocked out of her.

She sits dumbfounded, staring at the screen in her hand.

She's moved in. While Rory's been feeling sorry for herself and screwing up her life in just about every possible way; Logan's moved in with his fiancée.

Of course he has, because that's what people do when they get married – they live together. She can't bear to think of him living a domestic existence with Odette (or with anyone) but she knew, she knew, that that's where the engagement was heading right? So why does she have the sudden urge to throw up?

They barely mention his other relationship, Rory took him at his word that their engagement was for show and that it wouldn't lead to marriage but that was clearly crap. And she fell for it like an idiot. She tries to block it all out but there's one thought that won't leave her consciousness – when he gets into bed tonight, and tomorrow night, and all the nights to come, it will be with her.

Her phone buzzes with texts from Logan. He knows that that conversation didn't go the way it should have gone, he has to make it better.

It's not what you think. He types.

But what he means is – (I'm not sure I want to know what she thinks.)

I want to explain it all in person, that's why I haven't mentioned anything.

(I'm a coward. I know I have a better chance of you giving me the time of day if you can't hang up on me.)

Nothing's changed. We're not together, not like that.

(I don't love her.)

Please, please, come out in a few weeks. I'll make it up to you xx

(I need to see you. I miss you. I want you.)

Logan puts his head in his hands as he waits to see if she'll reply.

He didn't hear how desperate she is to see him (she wants to come tomorrow); or how much she needs him, she's confused and hurting and she's reaching for him.

All he heard is once again she explicitly states that he's her back-up when she has nothing better and it stings.

But (against his better judgement and all rational thought) he still can't let her go without at least trying.

She didn't hear him begging "please" because he needs to see her; or that he's made extra special plans for them (she loves Matilda, and has wanted to see the musical for so long, she's always felt an affinity for that book. And he knows).

All she heard is that she's moved in and that he wants to keep her in a hotel, like a proper rich man's mistress.

The Dorchester, how could he? Where he'd taken her when the bathroom flooded and needed to be remodelled. They both put off as much work as possible that week and abused the spa and room service to the best of their ability. Rory declared, despite the headache-inducing bathroom tiles, it to be her favourite hotel in London, and potentially the world, and they extended their stay longer than was strictly necessary. And now those memories are tainted.

She knew that Logan planned to take her back for her birthday, but fall seems such a long way away right now. And them playing the happy romantic couple feels even further.

It's fine. She replies bitterly.

Goodnight.

She turns to find her mother in the doorway, a sad smile on her face.

"What's wrong?" Lorelai asks, seeing the sheen of unshed tears in her daughter's eyes.

Rory just shakes her head. "Nothing, everything's fine."

"Rory … whatever it is, you can tell me. Just let me in. What have you been doing these past few months?"

She pauses.

She wants to say that she doesn't know what she's been doing, that she's not reflective, that's she's doing, not thinking and that's why she's acting so insane.

But that's a lie.

She's knows. She knows that she loves Logan, that she's torpedoed what remains of her dwindling career to be closer to him. That when she should be researching stories, pitching articles and making contacts she's actually going over every minute detail of their relationship, she ruminates until her head is a swirling vortex of pain, regrets and fear.

She knows that she's been avoiding her mother and grandmother as much as possible since her grandfather died, as she can't cope with the fact that she hasn't reached her potential, that he didn't live to see her working at the New York Times.

She knew his dream was for her to go to Yale, and though she did that, it was still marred by some misfortune and less than optimal events. But the NYT was her dream, it's what she told them all she would be doing, what all the work and sacrifice was for; and she wanted to do it to prove that she could. But it's too late now.

She doesn't confide enough in Lane and Paris, because despite their assurances that they have their own problems too, at least her friends have direction – they're married, with careers, and children; and Rory doesn't have any of those things, least of all direction.

And then when she's alone (which isn't often, she's never been good on her own and that hasn't changed) and it all gets too much, she cries.

Rory can't bring herself to say any of this though, and she's not quite at the point of tears yet, but she thinks that Lorelai can see through her bravado. She knows that she's a mess and Rory can't bear to admit that it's (at least in part) about him. So instead, she blames the wine, the stress tap dancing, and the pressure to join the 30-something-gang's group chat.

Editing the Stars Hollow Gazette seems like it will be an excellent distraction to the carnage that remains of her life. An unpaid, dead-end, dozen-journalistic-steps back, distraction.

And it doesn't even distract her that well.

But it does give her a good excuse to not see Logan.

Though when he messages to congratulate her on publishing her first issue, and reminds her of the night she first edited the Yale Daily News (the night she fell in love with the concept of the two of them as a team); she has to talk herself down from running to meet him at The Dorchester, regardless of whether or not it makes her his mistress.

So when Jess shows up and does his best to push her in the right direction and asks her what makes her feel, she avoids the obvious blonde-haired, brown-eyed answer that's on the tip of her tongue, and quips about losing her wallet instead (she has seriously got to get some sort of grip on her life soon).

But he's right about her mom. She could write about her. She could write with compassion and flair and dignity.

She can get back to New York, away from the coddling and gradually diminishing pride of her hometown and its residents, and back into the big wide world.

She thought it was the Naomi project that would be her game-changer, but maybe it will be this book instead.

And it is in a way. If having a horrific yelling match with, and then subsequently stopping speaking to, her mother counts as a 'game-changer'.

She tries to see Lorelai's perspective, she really does. Her mom's been trying to get her to open up for weeks and weeks and Rory's rejected all her attempts. She hasn't explained why she's been seeing Logan, and then not seeing Logan (she can't tell her that Odette's moved in, she just can't. It'll make it real.). Of course Lorelai must be upset and angry that she hasn't given many reasons for why she's moved home and taken a non-paying job when she's struggling to support herself. And then the only time she does talk to her about getting her career back on track is to write an in-depth book about all the painful times in her mother's life.

But she needs this. She needs to prove to herself that she can be a writer again. That she can be who she used to be.

She's lost a bit of herself lately and she feels ashamed that her insecurities have led to her for being so mean and bitchy - about the people at the town pool; with Lorelai about April; about Odette in her own head.

She's so lost in her own mess and desperate for love and support that her unconscious makes a decision for her and calls Logan. Over and over again.

Eventually, she actually lets herself speak to him.

And it's what finally wakes her up and tips her over the edge.

She's screwed up. This was a mistake. She's allowed herself to get in so deep. She never should have slept with him in Hamburg. She certainly should have stopped when he got engaged.

So she ends it. And disconnects the phone before she takes it all back.

And then successively, every other time she's said goodbye to him is running through her mind – when they fought so horribly in the campus pub, he thought she broke up with him; when she found out about the bridesmaids and did break up with him; when she let him go and jump off a cliff with barely a word spoken; when he left for London, tears in both their eyes, vows of devotion on their lips; when she heartbreakingly handed his engagement ring back to him not truly believing that it could be the end.

She can't do goodbye again, she thinks it might just break her. So this will have to be it.

And she's proud of herself, or at least she's trying to be. This is the right decision; she declares repeatedly to Lane, this is what she had to do.

So why does it feel like the worst decision she's ever made?

Giving up her apartment and being rootless wasn't as scary as it should have been as she felt at home with Logan in London, and now that's gone. She knew she could always rely on sanctuary with her mother, but even that's on shaky ground and so she's more adrift than ever.

She really doesn't have a single thing to tether her and stop her from unravelling.

What the fuck just happened?! He chastises himself after she ends their call. What did I let happen?!

The persistent hang-ups from her had him worried that she needed to vent, but he assumed that she also wanted to visit after all, and they would finally get a few days together to reconnect and talk things through.

But instead they argued (well, does it qualify as an argument if barely any words are exchanged?) and broke up. It's the only time they've fought since he told her he was getting engaged and it's as if they've forgotten how to do it properly. He should have said more, reasoned more, but he didn't want to push her and without pressure from him, she's chosen to walk away.

And now there's so much left unsaid - he thought it was a cliché reserved for melodramatic fiction, but it turns out it's also his life.

How he wished he could have the courage of his younger self, who took his brand new girlfriend back to meet his (insane) parents; who embarrassed himself in front of her mother and her friends, in his attempts to win her back; who declared his love for her so proudly with a public proposal.

When they're together Rory makes Logan feel like he is the most important and extraordinary man in the world. But when she turned him down all those years ago and every single time she left London and left him lately, he reverts back into being that idiotic rich boy who could never be good enough to win (and keep) the heart of the girl who was the best of both worlds.

He's pathetic and he hates himself for it.

They come to the bitter realisation that they set themselves up for this. It was always going to end in tears. The minute that they decided to have an open relationship and not discuss how they really feel, it paved the way for things to go like this. Like when they were first together and they tried to do 'no-strings', if it didn't work then how exactly was it supposed to work now, years later, when they have a shared history and a failed proposal between them?

Both trying to be something they're not. Because what they are, is desperately and terrifyingly in love with each other.