I don't believe in New Years Resolutions – if you want change, do it now. However, I will try to be better about updating. Thanks for loving this story as you do; it still means so much that you allow my little flurries of imagination grow into a real story! xo

disclaimer: i do not own gg

Honestly, Logan hadn't known what to expect when the program started in earnest. On paper, it all seemed straightforward. Him taking on his role of mentor, Rory living in the penthouse above him as she worked through the program and Finn hamming up his charmingly harmless playboy character.

But he knew it was not.

The tension on the flight over was real. They jokes about instant versus real coffee and mock arguments about chocolate chip versus plain waffles were laced with flirty undertones. The lingering looks. The tiny jolt of excitement that ran through him whenever she happened to cross his mind. Having her sit in his classroom every Tuesday morning from 8:00 – 10:00 am, drinking up his every word was equally the best and worst part of his week.

It really was the only time they had face to face contact. Of course, he wanted to spend it with her and not with her and 29 other students, going over everything from his father's success to hot trends in the paper industry, but Logan deliberately kept his distance. Self-preservation, obviously, but luckily his demanding work schedule didn't make his behavior seem out of the ordinary.

It just made it easier to avoid her and make certain he wouldn't be the one giving into the flirty smiles and tension, because Rory certainly wasn't going to be the one to do it. Apparently, her excitement about the FTF Writers Program was sincere.

If Logan hadn't already dubbed her 'Ace', she would have certainly earned that title by now. The girl who was once 'Birkin', with bug-eyed sunglasses and snarky quips seemed to have disappeared completely. This new girl, Ace, soaked up luncheons with the semi-influential people, the three-thousand word essays on technological advances in modern farming, the student-to-student interviews, the literature reviews, the lectures; she had an insatiable appetite for it all. From what he could tell, based on his own observations, Rory's life revolved around class assignments, hour-long phone calls with the home front, hanging out with her new best friend Finn and sipping lattes and comparing notes with Gemma and Nick.

Logan liked those two alright. They were committed to the program, though Gemma was a little forward (Finn via Rory told him about Gemma's fan-club tendencies) and he kept his eye on Nick. Mostly because of the look he had given Rory during the kick-off assembly. As far as he knew, there hadn't been any more looks, but one could never be certain.

Even if contact between Logan and Rory was limited, it didn't mean that she hadn't made an incredible impact on the lives of Finn and, more so, Logan. He knew about Rory and Finn's immediate friendship. He knew that she always joined Finn for breakfast and had fallen into the annoying (no, endearing!) habit of leaving her coffee mug in his sink. It was there, every night, without fail, practically mocking him, reminding Logan of the girl that now lived just one floor above him.

The first time it happened Logan let it be, caught up by wondering if it was some kind of sign or simply a forgotten mug. The second night, there was another so he hand-washed them both and scribbled a note:

"Wouldn't want you running out of mugs, Ace! Must keep that brain of yours well nourished."

It was a small, friendly and perhaps insignificant gesture but it lead to a routine. Rory and Logan communicated solely via notes, save from his Tuesday morning lecture. He kept the notes – trivial, yet so important messages scribbled in her perfect scrawl, each revealing a little something more to that mysterious girl he had met all those months ago.

This Tuesday morning marked the fifth class. It would be about sales techniques and the all-important elevator pitch, essential for the business side of writing; but also for journalists and writers to pitch books and topics for articles. Logan was pretty sure that Rory would enjoy this lecture – he'd hinted about it in his last note – but he couldn't mask his disappointment as there wasn't a little yellow piece of paper waiting for him this morning.

No note. Normally, if there notes lead to a dead point, she'd liven 'm up with a fun fact, or movie quote. But this morning she'd left nothing.

He didn't allow himself time to ponder the implications of the (purposely?) forgotten note. What kind of game was she playing; didn't he have the upper hand?

"It's a fucking piece of paper," he muttered to himself as he grabbed his keys off the counter. "Man up, Huntz."

Logan had hoped that the fresh air would take Rory and that damn note from his thoughts – he had a class to teach, he had to look as if he knew what he was talking about – but to no avail. His students dribbled in, eagerly clutching notebooks and lattes, waiting to be enlightened by some of his insight on the world of writing.

It was hard not to mock them – they didn't know him. They knew the image he had crafted for them; to them, he was the guy that looked up to and respected his father, the man who truly believed in great novels and the power of the written word, the guy for whom writing was a true passion. It was a gross lie, but, then again, what did he care?

"Um. Mr. Huntzberger, sir?" a girl's voice squeaked through class.

Slowly, he lifted his gaze from his desk to the class. Twenty-odd students, some twenty pairs of eyes locked to him. A small smile played at his lips as his tipped his head forward, indicating to the girl that she had his fullest attention. "Yes?"

"Well, um. Mr. Huntzberger, sir, it's, um, 8:15 and, um, normally our class starts at eight, um, o'clock…."

Logan's eyes shot to the clock in the corner. Crap, it was, and despite that he had a girl on the brain, he had a class to teach.

"Well, that it is," Logan said with a soft chuckle as he rummaged through some papers on his desk. "Let's get started then. Today we'll be discussing sales techniques and how to give the perfect elevator pitch, which will be helpful when you successful writers will have books ideas to pitch to agents and articles to sell to tough editors…." He flashed his trademark smirk and waited as a polite chuckle flitted through the room. "…but first, role call!"

He quickly made his way through the list, pausing, like always, at Rory's name. No one ever noticed, but he was sure that the day would come and his world built on vague promises and strangely intimate, yet innocent, notes would come crashing down.

"Gilmore, Rory?" Logan waited a beat, but her polite response to his call never came. "Rory Gilmore?" he tried again, as he scanned the room, but it remained quiet as he scribbled an absent next to her name.

"Grant, Melissa?" he continued as normal but his mind was on overdrive. Forget about stupid notes, how had he managed to start the class without noticing she was missing?

It was the longest hour and forty-five minutes of his life, meetings with Mitchum notwithstanding, and he thanked God it was over. He rambled through the key points, punctuated the lecture with not-so-funny anecdotes and he absolutely hated that he allowed himself to get so frazzled by her absence.

That's what he himself sought out to do, right? Be absent. Rory certainly wasn't pouting he was avoiding her, right? No, she bonded with Finn and made friends with perky Gemma and obnoxious Nick.

Logan tossed his folders into his briefcase and let out a deep, frustrated sigh. "Was a great class Mr. Huntzberger," Gemma noted with a smile as she made her way out of the classroom.

"Stellar, really," Nicolas joined in. "Especially thought the bits on negotiating were useful."

Logan briefly wondered if Nicholas could climb any farther up his ass, but he opted not to make a comment. "Thanks," he said through a half-hearted smile. "It's Influential Authors of the Twentieth Century next week."

"Oh excellent!" Gemma squealed with delight. "See you next week, then." The girl turned on her heel and continued the conversation to Nick. "Better brush up on my authors– wouldn't want Rory stealing my thunder!"

Nicolas laughed and Gemma continued. "It's such a pity she missed out this week, isn't it?"

"Most definitely, Gemmi, but she's sick and you know she wouldn't have cancelled unless she was really ill…"

Whatever anger that flowed through him – games, upper hands, presence or lack there of, - immediately left his body as Nick uttered those words: "she was really ill."

He felt stupid for not thinking about that before and then he felt terrible because Rory was sick. Whatever illusions of a relationship he'd conjured up between them aside, leaving his sick protégé behind was a terrible thing to do as a mentor.

Three short, but painfully sharp buzzes awakened her from a hazy sleep. Lazily, she patted her hand on the pillow beside her, quite certain she'd left her phone there. The buzzing stopped for a moment, only to start ringing soon thereafter. This time, the buzzes sounded more aggressive, but Rory really couldn't force herself to care – she wasn't in the mood to talk to someone.

All she really wanted was to find some Aspirin and go back to sleep, preferably for an extremely long time. She felt like crap. Her head ached, her stomach burned, her throat was scratchy and her muscles heavy.

Eventually, after another two rounds of buzzing she managed to find her phone (bedside table!) and pressed it against her ear.

"Hello?" she managed to squeak into the phone.

"Ace!"

It took a moment for that voice to register in her foggy brain. "Logan?" He was calling her?! To chit-chat? No! Class, she'd missed a class and that wasn't inline with her new image of being the proper Future Writer

"Ooh. Logan. I'm sorry I missed class. I'm…" she croaked.

"Sick. I know. Don't talk. You sound terrible." Rory had a hard time hearing him – there were a lot of background noises and it didn't help that he spoke quickly and quietly – but he sounded sweet, concerned even.

"Thanks…" she managed a flirty quip in her groggy state.

A small smile played at his lips. "Don't talk." He waited a beat. "I'm coming home."

Her eyes fluttered open and she was surprised to see a blond man sitting on her couch. Really, she'd have to stop inviting strange men over to her house – she didn't do that anymore, she was a serious Future Writer!

Although, this guy was kind of cute. He had the same tousled hair as Logan, same inviting eyes. All he was missing was a smirk – this hottie had a look of concern on his face.

"You're a cutie." Rory muttered in her half-awakened state, not noticing the smile that cracked on the stranger's face.

"Hey."

Rory coughed violently in surprise. The stranger was Logan. And this was the second time she had inadvertently commented on his looks! Besides, she'd only seen him four times in the four weeks that she'd been here – so what the hell was he doing here now?

"Don't talk," Logan warned gently as he made his way over. "I told you I was coming home."

That was him on the phone? Rory thought she'd been having a fever-induced hallucination. "You are here?" she asked, seeking clarification.

"I am here," he confirmed, "and you are sick. Don't talk." He gently placed his hand on her forehead. "Jesus, Ace. You are burning up!" His eyes ran across her pale face as he brushed a sticky lock of hair out of her face. "Where's Finn?"

"Uh.." She honestly didn't know where Finn was. A date with the coffee girl, perhaps? An appointment at Armani for a new suit? She didn't know and her eyes quickly welled up with tears. Her head hurt too much to think and her throat felt like she had swallowed a spiked stiletto heel.

And now Logan was here. In her room. With that look in his eyes. Even though she had raccoon eyes from un-removed mascara and her usually loose curls had turned into a sticky, sweaty, greasy mess that framed her sweaty, fever-flushed face. And she was wearing her Bananas-in-Pajamas pajamas.

"Hey, hey," he said soothingly as he wrapped her in a hug, "I'm here. No tears, okay?"

Logan waited for her crying to subside, noting that this was the second time he allowed her to stain his good clothes with her tears, before passing her a box of Kleenex.

Rory gave him an apologetic smile, but he simply shrugged. "Now, have you had anything? Juice, tea, Aspirin?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Don't talk. I'm going to get you some tea and Aspirin."

He turned on his heel, to go out to the kitchen, but Rory whimpered.

"I don't want to leave you like this, but I'm going to have to go if you want that Aspirin…" he smirked, but this time, Rory's face wasn't apologetic.

"Coffee."

At that, he threw his head back in laughter. Was this girl for real? "No coffee. Tea and honey is better for your throat!"

"But…"

"No dice, B," he called out after him, "No dice."

He returned moments later with a tray filled with a couple of tea mugs, a bottle of Aspirin, a glass of water and some toast for Rory and for him, a glass of OJ and a bagel. She eyed his bagel, while he shook two tablets in his.

"Bottoms up!" he said as he handed her the medicine and the water. Logan watched her to make sure she took the pills, before discarding his suit jacket, kicking off his shoes and joining her on the bed. She looked so miserable, so sick, that he just wanted to make her feel better.

Rory wasn't allowed to talk, so he switched on the T.V. He channel-surfed, carefully listening to Rory's disproving grunts – Jerry Springer, The Price is Right, Oprah, Full House – before settling on a rerun of America's Next Top Model.

Logan watched a particularly effeminate male strut across a catwalk in the highest heels he had ever seen and proceeded to crack up as model-hopeful failed to master the catwalk march. In the meantime, Rory, who was still groggy rested comfortably on Logan's chest as she fell back into a restless sleep. It was a Top Model marathon and for that he was grateful; otherwise he'd allow himself to get caught up in this moment.

About an hour later, Rory woke up. Her eyes met his and a lazy smile captured her face.

"Feeling better?" he asked, not noticing that his thumb was tracing circles on her shoulder.

Rory let out a small cough. "Yes, I am."

Logan shot her a semi-disbelieving look and laid his hand on her forehead once again, though this time, he was relieved to find that her fever had subsided, for now at least.

"You had me pretty worried there for a moment, Ace," Logan said, gently taking his hand off her forehead.

Rory was glad that her fever had left her with rosy-cheeks, which did an excellent job at hiding the blush that crept across her face. Why did he make her do that? She tried to shrug off his comment, but he wasn't having it.

"You should have called…" he told her.

Honestly, it crossed her mind. Briefly. It just didn't seem right. Logan had done a remarkable job of setting boundaries, for which, admittedly, she was grateful as it allowed her to focus on her studies. But, in doing so, he had sucked all of the fun out of their budding friendship. And that was something she had come to miss.

"I texted Gemma and Nic to let you know that I'd be absent…" Rory argued back.

Logan let out a heavy sigh. "It's not about the class. I don't care about the class."

"I do!" Rory shot back.

"I know you do," Logan replied with a firm nod. "Why didn't you call me?"

Rory was dangerously close of reaching her level of annoyance. Honestly, who did he think he was? Nursing her back to health like some nurse in shining armor, before dashing off and falling back into note-writing? Since when did he have the upper hand?

"I figured you'd be busy at work," Rory shrugged. "I would have written it on a note…"

"Rory! It's not about the note! I don't care about the notes. I don't care about the class. I don't care about Gemma and Nick. I care about the fact that you didn't call when you needed me. I care about… you!"

Her eyes shot up in happy surprise – he cared! But a million alarm bells started ringing frantically in his head. Treat! Like! Sister! Not! Boyfriend! Danger! Danger!

"Caring" was by no means "loving" but for a boy who wouldn't touch commitment with a ten foot pole, it came pretty damn close. So what if he silently analyzed every note, looked for sappy overused romantic-movie signs, and watched Nick like a hawk…

That behavior belonged to him and, oddly, he liked it like that. He had sort of grown accustomed to the ambiguous, fleeting existence of whatever he and Rory had going on. Some days he could pretend it was something real, but he could just as easily chalk it up to momentary infatuation. Or nothing at all.

Why change? Why let her know he cared? He'd probably end up hurting her anyway, or much worse, himself.

Logan coughed and Rory laughed coyly. "You okay there, Boss?"

"Perfectly fine," he replied and took a sip of his soda in an attempt to regain his composure. "I mean, I care because you are my protégé. Mitchum expects you back in one piece. Healthy and all…"

Rory nodded understandingly at his clumsy explanation. Maybe she didn't care as much as he thought she did and she once again made herself comfortable in her nook.

"I know," she revealed in a breezy tone, "he told me."

"You talk to Mitchum?"

"Talked to him this morning. He checks up on me, you know…" Rory trailed off as she looked up and saw the surprise written on his face. "He doesn't call you?"

"Nah," Logan shrugged it off, but Rory could tell it bothered him, "not unless it involves 'business' or 'meeting.'"

"I'm sorry," Rory with a genuine warmth his her tone, but Logan dismissed it with a wave, so Rory continued. "Mitchum wanted to know if you had covered Authors of the Twentieth Century in your lecture, but I told him you were saving that for next week."

"You read the note," Logan remarked with a smile, and then frowned. "You told him about the notes?"

"No, that's… between us." Rory rolled her eyes, he smirked and the moment passed "I just told him that you weren't giving up enough deets, because you were swamped at the offices."

"What?" Logan was shocked and his tone did little to hide that. Where did she get off thinking she could talk to Mitchum like that? How would it come off –like he'd set her up to do it. Logan was sure he'd get blamed for making sweet Rory Gilmore defy the almighty Mitchum.

"What's with the shocked expression?" Rory asked casually. 'You are my mentor, aren't you? And we can both agree that you've been neglecting that part a little…. "

Logan let out a deep sigh – so maybe his whole 'long-hours-at-the-office' spiel was a little obvious. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay," she shrugged, "but you are supposed to be my mentor. Mitchum wants that, so he shouldn't work you so hard!"

"And?" he was curious as to where she was taking this.

"Mitchum said not to worry. He's was going to get in touch with you." Rory waited a beat as she examined Logan's twisted face. "Oh, don't look like that. He's not as bad as he seems!"

"Easy for you to say," Logan laughed but Rory just shrugged and let out a yawn.

Logan stayed with her the rest of the afternoon as they drank tea – Logan wouldn't allow her coffee – ate soup and watched the ANTM marathon. It wasn't until Finn came barging through the door that they realized what time it was.

"What's all this? A party and I'm not invited?"

"Rory's sick," Logan answered as he poured Rory a fresh cup of tea.

She held up the mug and a tissue to demonstrate her apparent illness. "I'm sick."

Finn exchanged a glance between the pair as he observed the situation. An array of used tissues, empty Coke cans, soup bowls, a half-eaten sleeve of saltines, some tea mugs, an Aspirin bottle, a thermometer, a muted Tyra Banks and fierce, runway stomping models on the TV… It was definitely a scene of the sick. However, the most prominent feature was Logan's arm, protectively draped around Rory's shoulders.

He decided to skip remarking on how 'mentor-like' Logan was behaving and skipped straight to the friendly, sympathetic mode.

"Oh, love! I didn't know! I was expecting a jingle about breakfast – I was out with Cassandra – but I should have known something was up when you didn't call me!" He paused dramatically. "Still you should have called me. I'd come right home to care for you!"

Rory gave him a sweet smile and Logan simply rolled his eyes at his friends antics.

"Well, pack your things, then," Finn said placing his hands on his hips.

"What?"

"You don't think I'm letting you stay here to fend for yourself? Love, you live on take-out, you'll set an enormous pot of coffee and you think curling up with your syllabus is the cure to your illness. No, I won't have it. You are coming home with Logan and me – we'll take care of you."

"You boys can't even take care of a pet rock," Rory replied without missing a beat and Finn shot Logan an accusatory look. The pet rock incident was supposed to stay between them.

"Hey now!" Logan shot back. "I didn't a pretty good job this afternoon. You got some chicken soup and tea, which is much better than coffee and sweet and sour chicken!"

Rory smiled at him before she mock-relented. Actually, she was looking forward to spending some time with 'her' guys. "Alright. But I get to pick the movies."

"Deal." Finn said as he started dumping the contents of her dresser drawer into a suitcase.

Logan and Rory shared a look; it wasn't easy to say no to the Aussie boy. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

He smacked his lips together as he contemplated her question. Was he okay with this? He didn't know. He cared. But he didn't want her to know. He thought about her all the time. Though he didn't want her to know that either. He wanted her around, definitely, and that, he decided she could know.

"Yeah, your sick," he shrugged casually, "It's better to be around people, don't you think? Besides, it'd be nice to see more of you than your coffee cup."

She held back a laugh at his innuendo – it was cute because it was unintentional. A complete unguarded moment and Rory knew they were rare.

He caught her look and his lips pulled into a slightly self-conscious smile. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Gilmore."

I was going to make it longer, but then you'd have to wait longer for an update. Hope you enjoyed! I've always wanted to do a sick-scene and the opportunity presented itself. I hope you get that Rory has had a change of heart (not super focused school girl anymore - she missses Logan) and I'm sure you see that Logan is still struggling. He'll probably struggle a little while longer. A lot of my notes are from a "The Nanny" kick I had a while back and you know how it takes Mr. Sheffield 5 seasons to commit... so yeah. But there won't be any "things" taken back. Once they say it - they'll mean it. And that's a promise from me to you :-) Oh, and please review!!