Hi Guys,

Don't worry. I'm not stopping with New York Night, but this idea came to me and I wanted to get it up. It might be a little difficult, but the flashbacks will be it's own story and have lots of ROGAN fluffiness. The present, however, is not so nice for our favorite couple. However, be patient, and you will see if they work it out wink wink. Oh, the story is AU, with Rory being raised in Hartford Society. Hope you like this new story - I'm pretty excited about it. Please make me happy and review )

Love,
Gilmoregirl19

Disclaimer: I do not own GG, and also, I would like to add that I HOPE I didn't steal anything directly from other fanfic's. I know this is a fairly common idea, with Lorelai and Chris staying together and raising Rory like a member of Society. So, I am sorry if certain terms etc are similar to other fanfic's, since it was not done on purpose. If, however, I did take something from another story let me know and I'll fix it asap. Happy reading )

Chapter One: Fighting Words

Rory slammed her heavy New York apartment door shut. A mere second later, it opened again, violently.

"Come on, Rory," her husband yelled frustrated as he slammed the door shut behind him. "Don't run away!"

Rory remained silent, afraid her anger would make her say something she would come to regret later. It would not be the first time.

She turned her back to him; fully intending to storm off into her apartment bedroom though she stayed put and sighed heavily. She was tired. Tired of fighting and tired of pretending. How this man, whom at one point in her life she loved more than life itself, was a total stranger to her was beyond her. She did not deserve this. She did not sign up for this.

Okay, well, technically, she did sign something, but never in a million years had she expected it to turn out like this.

Memories of the silver fountain tipped Parker pen writing her signature over a crème colored document sent a chill up her spine. Back then, it had not seemed so bad.

She glanced down at her right hand, on her middle finger she wore a tiny blue sapphire ring, which Logan had given to her on her sixteenth birthday a year before they shared their first sort of kiss.

Rory valued this little ring more than her engagement ring, which was a gaudy Huntzberger heirloom. "I'll be there for you" he had said softly, as he handed her the tiny, tiffany wrapped gift.

Rory sighed at the memory and twisted the ring off her middle finger, staring at it and sliding it back on to her finger. Empty promises, she thought bitterly as she fought back hot, angry tears.

"Rory…" Logan tried again, softer this time. He knew their situation hurt her. He honestly thought this little getaway to New York would be a good idea, even though they had to attend the Children's Charity Ball. He knew Rory was not particularly fond of society events, in fact, over the years, she had come to loath them, but it would at least offer them some time together. That was what Rory wanted, right?

"Rory, I wanted to spend time with you, but we needed to go to the Ball…" he tried to sound sympathetic, but it came out patronizing.

"NO!" she screamed and turned towards him. "I'm not a two year old, Logan, I know perfectly well that the Huntzberger, Hayden, Gilmore name needed to be represented. Just because I am in the DAR doesn't mean I'm stupid!"

"I never said you were stupid," Logan said through gritted teeth, already sorry he had brought this up. It was the same story every time they would get in a fight – these days quiet frequently over the silliest things – Rory would bring up her society wife status. He understood it was hard on her, but what was he to do about it?

Rory crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him as if to say well?

"I'm sorry, Rory, I really am," Logan sighed and walked towards her, hoping to pull her into a soothing embrace.

Honestly, he really did not like her being upset but he never fully understood her desire to be part of the working world. He would give anything to just sit around, drink tea and having the hardest part of your day to be deciding on crab or cream puffs. Besides, that is not all Rory did, he thought as she ran their homes and had all the time in the world to write.

She maintained an op-ed blog and regularly submitted pieces to the New York Times, albeit those pieces were always about fashion or the next big thing in society. And, her work was always frowned upon by Society though Logan had told her many a time not to care about what Society thought. He thought she was an awesome writer, and that was what mattered, right?

Rory scoffed, "Sorry? That's all you got? SORRY?" She threw her hands up in anger. "I'm done!" She paused, and stared at him piercingly. "We're done," she whispered. "Done," she swallowed.

Logan waited for a beat, as her words computed in his brains. "Done?" he asked incredulously.

"D-O-N-E!" she spelled out for him, and glared at his blank look. "Go screw your damn secretary!" she clarified angrily and stomped off to her bedroom, as hot tears ran down her cheeks.

Logan remained in the hallway, staring blankly at the closed bedroom door, Rory's angry voice ringing in his ears. Done, done, done rhythmically penetrated his brain. The couple both knew they were not done, since almost ten years ago, on Rory's 17th birthday their fate was decided for them. And, "being done" was not a part of it.

He sighed heavily; he did not want to fight. Deep down he still loved Rory, she had been one of his best friends after all. Growing up, living a predetermined life was hard to do. He wanted to do right by his elders since acting out came to a halt as soon as college ended. Surely, she knew he was trying his best and had been for the past five years. He wanted to keep Rory happy, too, but he could not read her mind. The last few years she had turned into a sulky, unhappy person. Frankly, he had resorted to tacking on extra days on his business trips to avoid her, their relationship and their problems. It hadn't always been like that.

"When will you be back?" Rory said softly as she squeezed her husband's hand in the back of the limo that was speeding towards the airport. She was upset; since it was the first time, he was leaving her alone in the Hartford Mansion since their wedding, a little over three weeks ago.

"Soon," Logan replied, and kissed her forehead lightly. "Friday, probably," he said as he shifted his gaze to meet her sad eyes and he felt his heart skip a beat. She was his wife, something he initially was not 100 percent thrilled about, though now he could not believe he had not fallen in love with her sooner.

"Not soon enough," he said lovingly, as she squeezed his hand tighter.

"I'll miss you, you know," she admitted.

"Me too, Ace, me too,"

As Rory swung the bedroom door open, Logan was pulled out of his love-filled memory. He wondered if they could ever get back to that place. Rory made his way towards him – it was time to make up or it was time for round two. By her flushed appearance and narrowed eyes he knew it was not time to make up…yet.

"And another thing," she bellowed as she stopped a few feet in front of him. "You are becoming more like them every day. You don't realize it, but you are!" Of course, by them, she meant their parents excluding Chris and Lorelai, and it was one of the meanest things to say to a Society Child who once vowed never to step foot in his father's company.

"Rory, that's so far from the truth and you know it," he shot back. He knew he changed from his wild teenage days, he only thought it was for the better. Surely, he hadn't morphed into his own father.

"No, no I don't," she replied as she shook her head, "I'm the one whose cooped up here all day and never see you!"

"By choice," Logan yelled exasperated, "All you do is attend DAR meetings and visit with the girls. You only venture out if you absolutely have to. You could do something – start a charity or something..."

She stared at him blankly. Who was this guy?

"Besides," he dared, "You knew what you were getting into!"

"Like hell I was," she snorted. "I had no clue it would be like this, and you didn't either," she accused.

"At least I'm making an effort, Ace," he sighed.

She cocked her head to the side, as her eyes penetrated his soul. "Ace, seriously, you are calling me Ace – as if that will magically make it all better?" She exclaimed outraged, completely ignoring his 'making an effort' comment.

"I… uh, don't know where that came from," he stuttered.

She glared at him again, hating that he used his pet name for her, a name he used in a time of love.

"Don't call me that! It's Rory now, it's been Rory for the past four years, Logan!" she hissed, as she stressed his name.

"I'll call you whatever the hell I want, I'm your husband", he spat, his blood boiling.

She opened her mouth to say something, but crossed her arms over her chest and started at him piercingly, waiting for an answer to their problems. He needed to fix this, whatever this was.

He ran a hand through his messy blond hair. "Come on, don't give me that look. You know I don't like this any more than you!" he tried reasoning with her.

"Please," she snorted, "You love it – don't deny it. The attention, the bylines, the hot-shot job and macho attitude. You eat it up! When is it going to be my turn? When am I going to be more than Mrs. Huntzberger? It was promised to me you know!"

"You've been published in the Times," he countered.

"Arts and Entertainment, Logan. A&E," she sighed as she remembered how proud she was at her first piece for a real newspaper, hoping that her ten stories for A&E would develop into something more. She was foolish for thinking Mitchum would allow her to do more.

"You'll get your chance," Logan said, trying to sound reassuring but honestly, he did not know that for sure. He was getting so tired of the fighting. The constant bickering, the name-calling, they were not fun anymore.

They stood silently in the hallway of their penthouse apartment, a wedding gift from the Hayden's. They only stayed here when they were in New York, the rest of the time they lived on their Connecticut Estate. Logan's cell phone put an end to the silence.

He glanced down at the caller-id. "I've got to get this," he said apologetically.

"Sure you do," she said sweetly, though she rolled her eyes.

"Dad, hey," Logan said in a pleasant voice, not revealing the current state of affairs. "The Ball was okay. You know - business. Elliot's a go and we need to work more on Howards…" Logan reported to his chief.

"Uh, dinner sounds good. Next week sometime, sure I'll let Rory know." The one-sided conversation ended.

"So, when do you leave this time?" she sighed, getting back to the point that started this argument in the first place – Logan had told her after the Ball that he needed to go away on business. That, in itself, was not a big deal it was just that he only had been home for two days. How was she supposed to work on their relationship if he was not around to participate in it?

He looked away, "Rory…." His voice was tired and strained.

She looked away, too; she hated that this was so hard. That their whole, supposedly picture perfect life was crumbling down around her and she could not fix it.

"So," she nodded fighting back tears. "Seven o'clock to London tomorrow, right? You'll be back in a couple days, maybe a week, with a gorgeous necklace or ring for me…," she thought about her overflowing jewelry box in her Hartford dressing room. "You'll be home for a day or so and then you'll be off again." She swallowed hard, "and this is how the rest of our lives will be, right?"

"I hope not," he smiled weakly, "But, yeah, on the seven o'clock to London," he nodded softly, making a mental note to get her something other than jewelry this time. Maybe that Prada bag she had been talking about to her Mom.

He walked towards her, and gently rubbed her forearm – a surprisingly intimate gesture. "I'm sorry," he tried.

"Whatever, Logan," she brushed away his hand and with that, his pitiful attempt at an apology. "I'm sick of this, of being in the DAR, of you not understanding that I need to NOT be in the DAR. That I want to do something differently than organizing fundraisers and business parties… even if that's the way we were brought up!"

"Rory," he tried to sooth her, but it was futile, she was rambling. "You don't know, Logan, you say we are in this together, but you are off on business ALL the time. You don't have to endure the glares at the Club, with Adele Lively and Bitsy von Something Or Other coming up to you and asking if our little one is on the way yet…."

She sighed heavily and looked at him, as he looked away, hurt and defeated. "I'm just so over it all," she finally said in a small voice, and abruptly turned on her heel and walked back to her bedroom. She stopped short at the unmade king-size bed in the middle of the room, and let herself fall onto the bed, crying.

There was no way to describe her current state of despair. She knew Logan was her soul mate, he knew everything about her and even if certain people had not interfered with their relationship she was sure they would have ended up together. Why, then, couldn't they make it work? And just be happy, like they were at 16?

She jerked her head up from her pillows and thoughts at the soft knock on the door. She quickly wiped a tear away, though she knew that Logan would know that she had been crying. She quietly opened the bedroom door, fully knowing what was going to happened next.

"I'm sorry," they said simultaneously. He smirked, and quickly placed his index finger over her lips. "Shush," he commanded lightly, "No more talking."

She nodded, as he pressed a light kiss on her lips. Somewhat hesitantly, she kissed him back, and the kiss deepened quickly. Communication was not their forte anymore, but at least they were still able to connect in one way – even if Logan would slip out of her bed and into his own on the other side of the house, after the deed was done. Rory hated it - the passionate, crazy makeup sex. However, Rory figured, if they could not talk it over, they would sleep on it, or at least, sleep together.

Sooooo? What did you all think? I'm DYING to know!