My least favorite part of writing is these segways to the next bit of the story. Especially when I make you wait more than a month for them. Sorry. And you know how much I appreciate all the love for this story? Makes me feel extra bad for making you wait so long. Double sorry.

Disclaimer: I don't own GG

HPG's "New Initiatives Planning Group" kicked off with a breakfast social. From what Logan had understood the Planning Group was supposed to be a small group but diverse group. Journalists, business men, communications specialists, marketing gurus… all from different backgrounds, all working together to figure out the Next Big Thing for HPG to affirm its leading role in the market.

Logan was indifferent to his new corporate role; the only thing that made the trek across the Atlantic worthwhile was the promise of freedom at the end of the ride.

Finn had been downstairs socializing in a small ballroom of the Waldorf Astoria, while Logan was hiding out upstairs stalling; something about this whole set up wasn't quite right.

Mitchum had glossed over the whole London affair – never really even mentioned it to him, let alone get mad at him for the falling out that had occurred – and then showed up out of the blue with an offer to let him off the hook. Finn was allowed to come, no questions asked. And besides, since when did the company have a NIPG? What did that even mean?

At the time, Logan agreed but now, as he paced around his New York hotel room, he wondered whether it was all too good to be true.

Rory stood in the doorway of the Silver Ballroom watching the small gathering; lots of chatter, big nice-to-meet-you grins and handshaking. Harmless, really, and stuff she was an old pro at and yet she couldn't conjure up the courage to actually set foot in the room.

This was different, though. This silly little ballroom housed the most important function of her life because this, this was her last shot. If she fucked it up, even Mitchum's most powerful arguments could not save her from a future of fundraising and tea parties. What's more, she hadn't forgotten that look in Mitchum's eyes upon her return from London. It was the same look mirrored in her parent's eyes and Emily's too. Disappointment. And it stung, not quite as bad as that completely emotionless look Logan gave her, but enough to never want to see it again.

She'd do better this time, she'd be better. She'd fit in, she'd blend. No scenes, no sex. No Greeks. She'd just be Rory Gilmore, former features writer, here to help discuss New Initiatives, whatever the hell that meant.

But in order for that to happen, she'd actually have to get in the room and start socializing. From her hideout, she quickly scanned the room, nixing the idea of joining in with the sub-groups that had already formed.

Her eyes landed on a girl who stood at the breakfast buffet; the copper-colored pile of perfect corkscrew curls caught her eye. Half-up, half-down, cutting a cool, yet sophisticated look. Rory approved of her white-and-green Fendi floral shirt dress and was impressed that the girl teamed it with a string of pearls and shiny gray peep-toe Louboutins. Only a select few could stand at a breakfast buffet looking like a cross between Lucille Ball and Audrey Hepburn and Rory knew that it was due to an upbringing of a certain kind.

Rory didn't have time to wonder why Mitchum added another Society Girl to the mix (all the gossip! and the last names!) instead, she watched as the girl's pale hand reach for the muffin basket and touched, by happy mistake, a tan one.

Typically, Rory didn't notice hands, but this one was familiar. Beautifully tanned, fingers long and slender, yet strong, with perfectly manicured nails. Her eyes darted up and suddenly she was confronted with the back of Finn's head.

There was no question about it; she'd recognize him anywhere. And was here now, in New York, not London, handing the new millennium's version of Lucy a chocolate muffin, while Rory stood numbed and motionless in the doorway, bathed in an uncomfortable cold sweat.

Logan had finally stopped pacing – he'd stopped as soon as he caught his reflection in the mirror. This, the pacing, the sweaty palms, the dry throat wasn't him; he wasn't the nervous, non-confrontational type, was he?

Maybe she changed that in him? Just like she turned him off the rum?

Ugh. He was sick of those evil little thoughts that crashed his mind so frequently, yet unexpectedly. Little pings of pain. Whatever. So melodramatic - he blamed her for that, too.

If nothing else, this project would keep him busy and he'd regain full control of every aspect of his life in eight weeks. He smiled a little cockily at that thought as he straightened his tie in the mirror and head for the door.

Finn was here. For her? No – she'd been deleted from his phone, from his life. Maybe he was here on business, maybe his dad had finally gotten through to him? Could she just walk up to him after everything that had happened? And, with Finn here, where was Logan?

While her mind jumped from question to question, her legs took a more proactive approach and before she knew it, she was at the breakfast table grabbing a mug and filling it with coffee.

Finn didn't notice and Rory knew instantly that he wasn't pretending; he was enthralled by the porcelain-skinned girl.

As much as she wanted to blend before, she was screaming to be noticed now. Reaching for a blueberry muffin, Rory accidently-on-purpose bumped into the girl and broke Finn's spell.

His body instantly tensed as he eyes widened. "Rory!" he squeaked, "Oh my god! Rory!" His tone was a mix of excitement and nervousness and his eyes nervously darted around the room.

Sighing and setting his eyes back on her, he cracked a smile. "What a surprise, love! What are you doing here?"

"I might ask you the same, Finn." It came out more harshly than she intended, so she followed up with a small smile.

The girl, who moments before was enjoying a fun and flirty conversation, suspiciously eyed Rory. "I'm just going to let you two catch up, " she announced in a soft Southern drawl. "I'm sure we'll be seeing each other around, Finn." Her rose colored lips pulled into a polite smile, before she vanished into the crowd.

Without hesitating, Logan entered the Silver Ballroom. Had he taken the time to glance around the room, he would've noticed the eclectic crowd Mitchum managed to put together for the NIPG, but his eyes were – almost forcefully – drawn to the buffet table and his heart dropped.

He should've known.

And he could've walked away right there – maybe that's what Mitchum wanted? Maybe all of this was just an evil ploy to keep him contractually bound to HPG? But he'd never be cut loose if he walked away right now. She'd win and he'd be stuck at HPG.

It only took him a few steps to cross the room and catch Finn's eye. Within a second, Rory's eyes met his.

"What's he doing here?" she bit at Finn, who was clearly stuck in a very uncomfortable position.

"Mitchum's New Initiatives Project," Logan stated matter-of-factly, and he scoffed as Rory's mouth popped open in surprised horror.

"What?" she demanded, fire in her tone, "Mitchum asked me."

"It's not always about you," Logan shrugged coolly, "Mitchum likes to torture me. Perhaps you don't remember seeing as how alcohol kills brain cells and all."

"It doesn't…it has to do with calcium…" she started off in an angry rant, but Logan clearly wasn't interested as he stepped past her and cast his gaze towards the stage.

"Mate…" Finn tried to smooth things over, but Logan shot him a death glare and Rory's brows were furrowed in anger. Not wanting this unfortunate encounter to escalate, Finn gave Rory a small sympathetic smile, before gently guiding Logan away from the buffet table.

As Mitchum took the stage and applause swelled, Rory was clenching her coffee mug so hard, her knuckles turned white. She was fuming – Logan was here! And he looked at her like that! It didn't make her palms sweat or her knees week – it made her angry. Angry that he was here, just like that, and that he dared to speak to her the way he did. As if it was her fault Mitchum invited her to join this program, as if he was the only one being tortured. What the hell had Mitchum been thinking?

She tried her best to put it to rest and focus on Mitchum's speech, but she couldn't concentrate on it.

Not with Logan in the room.

Mitchum's office was no stranger to tenseness. It was in this office contracts were signed, business deals negotiated, and next-steps and take-overs plotted out. Yet the air had never been quit this thick or the mood so explosive as it was this afternoon, with Rory sitting in a leather armchair across from Mitchum's intimidating mahogany desk. A moody Logan leaned against the wall, just really wanting not to be there, and Finn stood in the center of the room, between Rory and Logan, his eyes locked to Mitchum's.

Before Logan could actually bolt, Mitchum cleared his throat. "I'm sure you want to know why I've called you here…."

Rory and Logan didn't bother to respond; neither wanted to buckle first.

"I'd kind of like to know, Mitch," Finn said with a shrug, "I mean, honestly, this is not at all what I expected…"

An agitated chuckle escaped Logan. "It's classic Mitchum, Finn. I should've known."

"What is, son?" Mitchum thoughtfully – provocatively – cocked his head to the side.

"This…" Logan made a vague gesture with is hand, "…was supposed to be no strings attached…."

Mitchum glanced around the room and shrugged. "I don't see strings."

Logan snorted. "Okay, yeah, sure," he nodded so hard, with so much pent up anger, Rory was afraid he'd punch the wall, "so we'll just pretend nothing ever happened."

"Logan…" Rory spoke for the first time and the emotion in her tone caught his attention. The anger that had been there before was gone, but it wasn't compassionate either. Maybe it was desperation? He noticed she had to take a couple of deep breaths as he put her eyes on her. He hated that he still affected her so, hated that it was so mutual.

"What happened in London happened and I apologized. I am sorry, but Mitchum is offering us this really great opportunity…"

Logan broke off his stare – so what? Now she was back to being Little Miss Perfect? Shoving London under the rug, like it didn't matter that she fucked another a Greek guy in his apartment?

"You put Mitchum up to this, didn't you?" he accused vehemently.

"Me? No! I…"

"Logan!" Mitchum boomed and Logan whipped his head toward his father. "What Dad? It's not like she never lied or manipulated before…."

"Logan, that's enough!" Mitchum pounded his fist on the table, "The three of you are here because I invited you based on you professional performances – whatever went on between you personally I don't know and quite frankly, I don't want to know. I'm a business man, not Dr. Phil."

Logan's eyes fell on Rory again (maybe he was a little sorry for accusing her) but she looked away. He let out a frustrated sigh. "So…?"

"You'll complete the program. It's only eight weeks. During business hours you'll conduct yourselves in a professional manner. None of this bickering and childish behavior and whatever happens afterhours is up to you."

"There won't be anything happening afterhours, Dad," Logan was quick to say and Rory added, in an almost offended tone, that she was focusing on her future. Their claims were met by an indifferent Mitchum. "Like I said, I'm not Dr. Phil."

"And after?" Logan asked.

"As we talked about: you'll be free to leave Huntzberger Publishing Group," Mitchum sighed, as if was agreeing to something trival.

"I want legal to put that on paper."

"If you feel that you must…"

"I do," Logan said with a firm nod.

"Very well then. You know where legal is."

With that, Logan quickly made his way for the door. A shiver went down her spine as the door slammed shut. Finn coughed – he'd been so quiet during this little meeting that Rory had almost forgotten he was there. "I'm sorry – I – Rory…I'm so sorry," he tried to find the right words to apologize, to let her know that he wasn't mad at her, that their friendship could still be salvaged, but he couldn't. "I have to go find Logan…"

"Legal is down the hall and the first door on the left," she told him and he smiled gratefully. As soon as the door slammed closed again, she turned to Mitchum. "You could've told me."

"You would've refused," Mitchum stated simply. "It'd be tragic to let you wither away at the Daughters of American Revolution."

Rory leaned back in her chair and sighed. It would be tragic, indeed, but wasn't this torture much worse than anything she could ever endure at the DAR? Sometimes she wondered how Mitchum's mind worked.

"You'll really release Logan from his contract?" she asked curiously. "Why?"

Mitchum took a sip of his coffee as he contemplated Rory's question. "I'm hoping he'll change his mind about things – eight weeks is enough time to give him some perspective on what HPG can really offer him…."

"Right…" Rory said slowly – a lot could change in eight weeks, "what about Finn?"

"Finn is a good man," Mitchum smiled wisely, "a much better man than he portrays himself. Logan thinks I did him a favor, but in all honesty, I think Finn is a good asset, wouldn't you agree?"

Rory smiled wryly as she thought about how lucky Logan was to have Finn as a friend.

"Yeah, he really is."

So.

We've got one mad Logan and one mad Rory. Also, one confused and love-struck Finn. One still-meddling Mitchum. One new society girl. One important telephone conversation Logan and Rory don't know about. And the start of one new program. And about eight fan fiction weeks to sort it all out.

Review if you wish I could finish this story in eight human weeks! Ha!