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Rory spent a month exploring Fez and Morocco, scribbling down all she could see. Her plans were vague, her schedule loose, but for the first time in months Rory felt as though she had a purpose. She took several photos, walked endlessly around the towns, and fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, exhausted by her endeavours. It seemed remarkable that she was finally there. When she had landed Rory had stumbled across the hot, dirty earth, half-asleep as her suitcase bumped behind her. Even after she'd checked into where she was staying and taken a nap it still seemed like she was dreaming. Rory walked around the small streets, remembering wistfully telling Doctor Moran how she'd always wanted to go to Fez. It was more incredible than Rory could ever have imagined.

After Morocco Rory went onto Egypt and as she stared up at the great Pyramids she was reminded of her great-grandmother, Lorelai the First, and how she too had gone there alone, on a camel, her husband left behind. Rory smiled. She had been a remarkable woman and Rory was sad that she couldn't tell her all about her time in Egypt. Rory, despite not knowing her great-grandmother very well, could almost hear her crisp, acidic voice in her mind. A cellphone? Who on earth needs a cellphone? I certainly did not bring a cellphone when I was looking at one of the greatest wonders of the earth. People were self-reliant then. I rode on a camel. What is that contraption? A camera? It looks like a toy. My dear, you are a Gilmore, and you are doing perfectly well travelling alone without these inane gadgets. You are independent. You are a Gilmore.

Rory smiled, took out her camera and snapped a picture. The ground was simmering beneath her feet and the air shimmered in waves. Rory straightened her back, closed her eyes and breathed in the hot, mysterious air. She hoped for some of her great-grandmother's spirit and smiled again, knowing Gran would disapprove of such nonsense. Rory took some more pictures before heading back to the group, looking back one last time. She was proud Lorelai the First had seen the Pyramids, and to be descended from her.

After Christmas Rory flew north to Greece. She explored Athens, took a trip to Crete, and sailed back to the mainland to see the smaller towns. She stayed somewhere called Nafpaktos , free from tourists, and filled with friendly Greeks eager to help show her round. There was a beach at the end of the road and Rory frequently sat there at the end of the day with a coffee, looking out across the water. She often paddled to cool her feet after her long, hot trips around other parts of the mainland yet she never swam, despite bringing a bathing suit. The water was too cold. There was one local man, who looked close to Rory's age, who swam every evening as the sky turned to dusk. He didn't seem to notice the cold. Sometimes they'd smile at each other, or wave, and one night he walked up to the table where Rory was sitting. She nodded when he asked if he could join her and he pulled up a chair.

"Hello."

"Hi."

"What's your name?"

"Rory."

She took a sip of her cocktail and waited for the question which always came. He didn't fail.

"Rory," the man echoed. "That's unusual. Where does it come from?"

"It's short for Lorelai. It's my mother's name, too."

"Lorelai?" the man echoed. "I like that."

"Your English is very good."

"I learn at school – learned. See, not so good."

"I can't speak any Greek. What's your name?"

"Alex," he told her. "I don't have any other name."

Rory swallowed more of her drink as he asked,

"So what are you doing here, Lorelai?"

"I'm travelling. I've always wanted to come here."

"It's a good place," the man agreed, looking around. "I've lived here my whole life. You here long?"

"I'm not sure. I might move on soon."

"With your friends?"

"I'm here alone."

"You are American, yes?" Alex guessed. "California?"

Rory let out a laugh of surprise.

"I lived there for a while, but I'm actually from Connecticut. The other side."

"I know," Alex said. "Near New York, yes?"

"Not too far."

"You study there?"

"I finished college. I'm twenty-five – no, twenty-six. I just had my birthday."

Alex nodded and Rory asked,

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-eight."

Rory drank some more and Alex laughed, his hair lit by the moonlight.

"Nearly twenty-nine and then I shall be thirty. An old man, yes?"

"I hope not," Rory answered. "That's not so far off for me."

"You do not have to worry about being old."

Rory finished her drink, wondering what he would say if she told him she was married and divorced. She decided not to. She looked at the scuffed lines on the aluminium table, rings left by ashtrays, wondering if she should leave. She was about to make an excuse when Alex placed a hand on her arm and handed her a piece of paper.

"This is my number," he said. "Call me. I'd like to see you again, Lorelai."

Rory didn't know what to say. She stared and he pointed at a group of houses at the end of the sandy lane.

"I live there," he told her. "The middle house. You can come by, anytime, if you like."

He got up and walked away. Rory watched until he was out of sight before glancing back down at the table. Her face was reflected, distorted, and Rory looked out at the cool, lapping water. She walked down to the sea, letting the waves wash over her ankles before walking slowly back to the room she was renting.

Rory didn't throw away the piece of paper. She kept it in her pocket all through the next day and the day after that and while she admired ancient temples and sanctuaries Alex was at the back of her mind. One evening, instead of going straight back to her room, Rory walked up the lane. She was halfway there when she stopped, wondering what she was doing, and turned to go back. The rooms were brightly lit and she caught a glimpse of a bedroom before changing her mind.

"Lorelai!"

Rory turned and saw Alex hurry through the gate of his house.

"I thought I saw you," he said. "Would you like to come in for a drink?"

"No," Rory said slowly. "Thanks, but no."

"May I walk with you?"

"Okay."

They walked silently along the seafront. Although it was late, lots of families were there, children laughing and playing on the swings standing on the sand. Some of them waved at Rory.

"Lorelai," Alex said. "You look as though you have a story."

He looked at her inquisitively and Rory said eventually,

"What do you mean?"

"You look sad sometimes, sitting out by the sea on your own."

He didn't add anything else and Rory said,

"I'm a lot happier than I was."

"You weren't happy?"

"I was married."

"What happened to your husband?"

"I divorced him for being a jerk."

"I see," Alex said. Rory waited but he didn't ask anything else. She thought about Jess but didn't know to explain what they had had, nor did she want to. It was private. They walked on much further, towards a shallow grove of trees, and Rory asked,

"You're not married?"

"Me? No. My parents are angry about that. I want to move to Athens."

"To do what?"

"Get a job. I studied Mathematics. I had a job there, for a while, but I lost it. Lot of people lose – lost –jobs."

"That sucks."

"Yes, it does suck," Alex agreed, stopping. "But this does not suck."

"What doesn't?" Rory asked quietly, stopping as well. He looked at her and said gently,

"Walking here with you."

Rory smiled shyly. She looked back into his eyes and he asked,

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yes."

He smiled and put a hand around her back. Lightly, he placed his lips on hers, kissing her with gentle strength. Rory kissed him back, opening her mouth to his. His mouth tasted like sea salt.

Alex kissed her harder, leaning her onto a tree. Rory felt the rough bark on the trunk on her back, Alex's arms around her waist, his chest pressed to hers. She imagined going back with him, into his house and making love on the small bed. Rory pictured it for a moment and then pushed Alex away, disentangling his hands.

"Stop!"

"Lorelai, I'm sorry," Alex said, stepping away. "What is it?"

"I have to go," Rory said, panicked. "I can't do this."

"Do what?"

Rory didn't answer. She turned and ran back onto the path, Alex calling,

"Lorelai! Lorelai!"

"It's Rory!" Rory shouted. She didn't wait to see if he heard and ran and ran, past the families, the children on the swings, until she was at the other end of the beach. Rory stumbled onto the sand and jumped, fully-dressed, into the sea. She swam underwater before emerging, teeth chattering, a few moments later. Rory floated on her back and almost laughed as her mother's voice came into her mind – no cheap Mexican condoms! Rory was sure cheap Greek ones wouldn't fare much better in Lorelai's mind. She kicked back a little, letting her dress float out. It would have been a stupid thing to do. She wondered what her mother was doing right now, what everyone was doing. Lorelai was probably at Luke's. Rory hoped he was looking after her, as promised. She wondered what Jess was doing, back in Philadelphia, and the water suddenly felt much cooler. Rory slowly walked back to shore, her dress clinging to her, and to her room, ignoring everyone's stares. It was only until after she'd showered and changed that Rory realised the piece of paper Alex had given her was lost to the sea. It was probably for the best.

The next day Rory moved on. She was waiting for the bus to take her to the next town when Alex appeared.

"You are going?"

"Yes."

There was an awkward pause and Alex said,

"I was too forward. I'm sorry."

"No," Rory said quickly. "It wasn't that."

He looked at her but Rory didn't say anything else.

"Safe trip," he said. "Goodbye, Lorelai."

Rory didn't correct him on the name.

"Goodbye, Alex."

They smiled shyly at each other and then the bus arrived. Rory looked back when she'd found her seat but he had already gone.

Rory travelled some more around Greece and then spent February in Spain. As well as writing down everything she saw there, such as elaborate religious festivals, Rory wrote postcards. She sent them to Lane and Lorelai, despite talking to them on the phone most nights, and two for Paris and Luke. Rory hesitated, picked up another and started to write one to Jess. After the obligatory first few lines of asking how he was and that she was having a great time, Rory was stuck. There wasn't enough space but what could she say? That she'd made out with some guy called Alex in Greece and stopped partly because of him? That she missed him and it felt wrong? What would he even say back? What could he say back? Rory put the pen down. There wasn't any point in telling Jess about it so she settled for a simple description of the beach and temples and the town in Spain. It was boring but Rory felt one postcard was better than none at all and she posted it with the rest, then wished she hadn't. It was too dull but it was too late now and Rory walked down to the seafront, ready to write about the day's events.

As the weather warmed to spring Rory travelled to Britain. It was the last leg of her trip and she was sad as she flew away from the mainland of Europe. It had been an extraordinary few months. She missed her mother a lot and there'd been parts of the trip which were achingly lonely but most of the time she'd felt peaceful. It had been wonderfully independent, seeing the countries on her own, just as she'd imagined as a kid and picked out posters to place on her walls. England did not disappoint. Rory took the tube around London, something Logan hated doing when she'd gone to see him, and trains to other parts of the country. Rory marvelled at how easy everything was to get to, so close together, and she spent a morning in Bath, walking around houses straight out of Jane Austen. Rory ate lunch in some gardens and then took another train to the next town which was even bigger with just as much to see. Other than the rain, everything about England was wonderful and Rory was disappointed that she hadn't dedicated more time there, considered going to Scotland. She was due to fly back to Hartford at the end of the month and Rory sadly packed everything away, including her travel journal, which was bursting at the seams. Rory had copied it all onto her laptop but the journal felt more special. Rory wondered what Jess would make of it, if he would read through it and be tempted to make notes. She had brought Slaughterhouse Five and, though it was short, hadn't finished it. Rory couldn't bring herself to. She stopped after a certain amount of pages, not allowing herself to read on. She liked that there was part of the story still unsaid, Jess's notes still waiting, and she carefully put it back in her luggage.

On Friday Rory caught a coach to Heathrow. It was a dull, grey day but Rory's spirits were high as she drank coffee at the airport. She was sad to be going but was excited to see Lorelai after so many months. The two had spoken for over an hour last night and Rory couldn't wait to see her mother's face again. Skype didn't count and she smiled at the thought of them sitting up that night, talking all about the trip, apart, Rory decided, from Alex. That could stay secret.

Rory finished the coffee and walked over to the window. Rain was spitting at the pane. In the distance Rory could see the endless fleets of planes and wondered which was hers. Suddenly, the entire trip felt like a crazy dream and she hadn't even gotten on the plane yet. She felt terribly sad to be going home, staring out at the airport, despite her excitement to see Lorelei. The trip hadn't been long enough. There was still so much of the world to see. Rory closed her eyes, remembering how just a year ago she'd been living in California, sure things would never change, sure she was married for life. Rory felt a chill and opened her eyes again, crumpling the cardboard cup in her hand. There was an announcement of her gate for Hartford and Rory picked up her purse, passport and tickets. It was time to go home.