AN: So the dialogue from the first half of this chapter comes from the episode The Party's Over. I tried to stay true to the episode as much as possible but there was one line that REALLY didn't age well and I just couldn't bring myself to write something so racist, so I made a little tweak. I know it's kind of an iconic line, but I at least kept Finn's half the same and that was the part that was really iconic. So anyway, if you're wondering why that one line is different, that's why.

October 2004

The music was playing, the alcohol was flowing, people were laughing. All in all, it was a marked step up from the tedious gathering in the main house. Though, Logan had to admit the overabundance of Y-chromosomes in the room was giving him flashbacks to that month he spent at Kiski Prep. After he'd succeeded in getting himself kicked out of that nightmare, he actually managed to behave enough to make it a full semester and a half at Andover for fear his parents might send him back to another all-male boarding school if things didn't work out. Of course, this shindig had one thing that Kiski didn't—Rory Gilmore; the woman of the hour, the unwitting star of this evening's show, the shiny prize her grandparents were looking to bestow upon some suitable bachelor.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about what it would be like to take said prize home. But Logan Huntzberger was a far cry from suitable. And Rory wasn't the type of prize you played with for a few weeks and then tossed aside for a new shiny object. Rory Gilmore was special. And as much as he got off on the thought of her screaming his name in ecstasy, he knew better than to go there.

"Gilmore, your grandfather has appalling taste in Scotch." Colin marched his way across the room waving a bottle of liquor. Rory shifted on the couch, her head pivoting to follow his movements; the grandiose diamond necklace she wore caressing the silky, alabaster skin of her throat, drawing attention to the swell of her breasts which were covered by the sexy, yet tasteful sweetheart neckline of the designer cocktail dress she wore.

It was strange to see her bedecked in jewels and fine fabrics. He never would have pegged the spunky, ambitious, young reporter who had unapologetically reamed him out in front of her dorm room and accidentally threatened to stalk him, as the type of girl who could rock an actual diamond tiara. She had seemed like such an ordinary girl…in the most extraordinary of ways.

"Oh, I think you should go on inside and tell him!" she replied with the enthusiasm of someone who had had just enough to drink without being drunk.

"If he hasn't learned by now, I certainly can't teach him," Colin protested.

"Colin," Logan warned, as he made his way over to the couch, filling a glass with the bottle of champagne he'd swiped off a table on the patio, "make sure you refill that bottle with something. We don't want Ace over here to get busted." While the champagne was meant for the party, the Scotch was clearly out of Richard Gilmore's personal stock and was likely to be missed.

"I know. I know." Colin patted him on the shoulder. Colin had been on Logan's back about his affinity for the blue-eyed beauty ever since he'd approached his friends about allowing her to tag along to a Life and Death Brigade event…as a reporter, no less. And the placating gesture was clearly meant to suggest that Logan was concerned about Rory for reasons that went beyond those of a mere acquaintance.

Logan ignored his friend's mocking. "Refill?" he asked Rory, already tipping the bottle of champagne towards her glass.

"Sure, why not?" she agreed, straightening up to accept the alcoholic offering. The bottle was running dry and he tilted it further to empty the last of the liquid into her cup, but the gesture was not entirely successful as some of the champagne splashed out onto her dress. In her slightly tipsy state, she was less than concerned and she smiled up at him with a jubilant expression that made him happier than it should have.

"Because drinking is bad," Finn slurred from his spot to the right of her on the couch. "It's very, very bad and we're bad for doing it. Spank me."

"I think the hangover tomorrow will be punishment enough," Rory informed him with a placating nod of her head. It was impressive the way she could handle his insane friends and go along with their crazy antics.

Finn turned to him. "She hasn't had enough champagne, Logan," he said as he pushed himself up off the couch and wandered away.

Logan helped himself to a seat on the sofa. He might not be willing to do anything about his attraction to Rory, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy her company. "Hey, listen, I forgot to tell you, I read the article."

"You did?" she asked, the pitch of her voice rising at the end to express her incredulity. He didn't know why she was so surprised. Just because he avoided the newsroom at all costs didn't mean he never read a newspaper. And he'd helped make this article possible. No reporter had ever been let anywhere near The Life and Death Brigade before; that was the 'secret' part of the whole 'secret society.' But Logan had used his ample charms and powers of persuasion to convince the group to let her come to one of their biggest events of the semester. His friends were still giving him shit about it… like Colin and his derisive shoulder tap.

"Yep, not bad."

"Thank you." She sounded genuinely pleased by his compliment, which was impressive considering it wasn't much of a compliment. He loved how easy she was to please, yet at the same time, a part of him wondered what it was that made her doubt her own abilities so much that a simple 'not bad' could make her so happy.

"Caught the spirit of the thing, I'll give you that." Maybe that should have been his first clue that there was more to Rory Gilmore than met the eye. She hadn't been thrown in the slightest by the opulence and extravagance of the Gatsby-esque party. She hadn't lamented the superfluousness of it all, she hadn't written it off as the wanton debauchery of a bunch of spoiled rich kids. She'd understood the event, and the people there for what they were. She'd caught the spirit of the thing…of them, because there was a part of her that was one of them.

"But?" she asked, still seemingly unable to accept an unqualified compliment. There was also clearly a big part of her that was nothing like them.

"No, no buts." He assured her. Her lips pursed together, her head nodding pensively as she took in his feedback. "You've got a good style. There were a few too many similes in it for my taste…" At that her expression turned briefly to offense—he loved the way it made her blue eyes sparkle. "But it definitely had a little Joseph Mitchell thing going for it. I like that."

"I'm surprised you even bothered to read it," she said dismissively, turning away from him.

"Are you? He still didn't get why she was so surprised. She knew who he was; Logan Huntzberger—of the newspaper Huntzbergers. Journalism was in him, born and bred, whether he liked it or not. And sure, most days it was 'or not' but rarely did anyone bother to think about what he wanted to be, only what he was. And besides, he liked journalism when she was the journalist. In fact, he probably liked it a little too much. "Hmm. So, who's it going to be?" He stood up and set his glass of champagne down on the table. It was time to change the topic; that was more than enough shop talk for one night. Besides, it was far more fun to tease her over the fact that her grandparents were trying to sell her off to the highest bidder.

"What?" she asked.

"Well, this shindig's an obvious meat market; I've got the feeling that your grandparents are expecting you to choose someone tonight, so..."

"Oh, well..." she demurred as the men in the room started to gather round.

"Me. Pick me," Finn pleaded, literally falling at her feet with a vase full of flowers in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other.

"No, pick me!" Colin said.

A chorus of 'pick me's sounded around the room.

"But I'm exotic!" Finn tried to sell himself.

"So's the Sydney Funnel Web spider," Colin scoffed.

"Wow." Logan looked at the crowd circled around with an amused smirk. "A room full of guys and still extremely slim pickings." Most of the guys there were his friends, but he stood by his statement—extremely slim pickings. He wasn't sure what Rory's type was, but he knew he couldn't see her with some society guy. The girl in front of him was going to take the world by storm. She wasn't going to marry rich and stay home to plan parties and manage her husband's social life. She deserved more than that.

"Well, I don't know," she answered, shifting in her seat and fiddling with the crown on her head. "It's a tough choice, maybe I should let my boyfriend help me choose."

"You have a boyfriend?" That bothered him more than it should. Though he wasn't sure why he was surprised by the revelation. Rory Gilmore was smart, witty, gorgeous…she was a catch by any man's standards.

"I'm crushed," Finn lamented.

"Ain't it always the way?"

Logan sat back down, wanting to find out more. What were they even doing here if she was already taken? Not that he expected Rory to actually wind up with any of the men in that pool house, but her grandparents obviously did—or at least they hoped she would. "Do Richard and Emily know about this?"

"Yeah, they do."

"They're just trying to make sure you got a backup?" Or a replacement, perhaps? Was there something wrong with her current boyfriend?

"No," she shook her head, her expression slightly vexed, "they're just—" her eyes suddenly went wide with worry. "Oh no, what time is it?"

"It's crying time," Finn crooned.

Logan looked at his watch but Colin got there first…"Eight forty-five," his friend answered.

"Dean is meeting me at eight-thirty!" she replied frantically, unfurling her legs from the couch and standing up, her legs wobbling underneath her from the two glasses of champagne she'd consumed.

"Where?" Logan asked, following her up from the couch. He felt the strangest sensation; a tightening in his chest, a clenching in his jaw.

"Here, out front!" she explained, sitting down once more to put her shoes on.

"Dean, is this the boyfriend?" He knew nothing about the man so why did he feel like he hated him already?

"Yes, the boyfriend!" Colin sent Logan a shrewd glance, his eyes furrowed in that patently condescending way that Colin had long ago perfected.

"Well, we've got to see this guy." Logan insisted. No way was he about to let Rory walk out of there with this guy without sizing him up.

"What?" she looked horrified by the thought.

"See who the man is who's won your heart. Got to make sure he's good enough." He wasn't good enough, Logan was certain. Richard and Emily clearly knew it, or they wouldn't be trying so hard to set her up with someone better. And if an entire crowd of better men just so happened to see her out of that house and this Dean got the message that she had plenty of options, well…so be it. "Let's go, boys!" he instructed the group.

"But…" she protested. The guys started making their way towards the door of the pool house. Logan remained facing her, backing away slowly. "Hey!" she tried one last time.

"Coming?" He asked with a smirk as Rory stood up and chased after them onto the patio. She kept trying to shoo them away as she headed into the main house, but Logan couldn't be gotten rid of that easily, and where he went, the other boys followed.

"Shh," she admonished the boisterous group as they exited out of the front door onto the driveway. A tall man with long-ish, shaggy hair, dressed in a trucker jacket over a checkered button down and a pair of jeans, was standing in front of a blue pickup.

Rory paused, straightening her dress before making her way to the guy who looked less than pleased as his eyes flicked towards the crowd. Logan stood at the front of the group that had congregated in the entryway. Colin and Finn stood next to him with Finn in the middle, draping his arms around them to present a united front.

"Dean, hi," she said as she approached her boyfriend. "I'm sorry, have you been waiting long? I didn't have a watch and we were in the pool house." She pointed a thumb backwards towards them, then glanced over her shoulder. The carefree smile that had been on her face mere moments ago was replaced by an anxious, fretful expression. She turned back and even from his view from behind, Logan could sense her uneasy posture and nervous gesticulations. "These are some friends," she continued to explain, as though she owed the loser an explanation. "They go to Yale with me, and they know my grandparents. The party was so boring so we…" She paused at his continued stony expression. When her voice picked back up again, it was softer and Logan could no longer make out what she was saying over the laughter and noise of the others.

Dean glanced at them once again, then shook his head defeatedly before saying something in response.

Rory stood frozen to the spot, the slight sag of her shoulders the only detectable motion as Dean turned around and got into the truck. The asshole didn't show the slightest hint of concern or emotion as he slammed the door and turned on the ignition. He barely spared Rory a second glance as she wrapped her arms around herself and watched him drive off.

Logan saw her shoulders start to shake with the onslaught of tears. He couldn't take it anymore. His feet were striding towards her before he could stop himself. He came up behind her, close enough so she could feel his presence, but just short of actually touching her.

"You'll be okay," he whispered gently in her ear. And she would. She was so much better than some townie asshole who'd publicly dump her in front of her grandparent's house. Logan knew she couldn't see it now, but she was going to be so much better off without him. That guy was clearly nothing but an anchor, dragging her down and keeping her from her true potential.

She looked down, shaking her head dejectedly. "No, I won't." she sniffled back a sob. It hurt just to look at her.

"Okay, that's it," he glanced back over his shoulder at his friends. "Back to the pool house, men. We have some serious bucking up to do here."

"I swiped some Scotch," Colin replied helpfully, brandishing a bottle of Maccallan.

"I'll reenact the Passion of the Christ," Finn offered up. Logan suppressed a groan as he turned his attention back to the heart broken girl beside him. There was something beautiful about her, even in her sadness. Maybe it was the fact that the women he was accustomed to didn't tend to show emotion. Most girls he knew would, if anything, be screaming and throwing their shoes at the truck as he drove away. They would certainly never let themselves cry in front of a dozen eligible bachelors. But there Rory was, wearing her heart on her sleeve, not caring who saw. He wasn't used to that kind of vulnerability. He almost envied it. And yet, as beautiful as she was crying, there was something incandescent about her smile and he was going to make it his mission that night to see it put back on her face.

"Come on Ace," he reassured her, "nothing ever seems quite as bad after Finn's Passion of the Christ. Except Finn's Passion of the Christ." A strained, almost-laugh managed to make it out of her as she turned towards him. Their eyes met and held for a moment and he gave he a comforting smile before placing a hand on her shoulder and leading her back into the house.

October 2005

The door seemed bigger than usual; more intimidating. Logan had stood at the doors of celebrities, senators, and titans of industries. He'd stood at this door a dozen times before. And he'd rarely, if ever, felt intimidated at all. And yet right now, it was taking everything he had just to find the courage to ring the bell.

Being there was a bad idea. He should just turn around and head back to school. He should never have come at all. He should have made up some excuse about why he couldn't make it on such short notice, or better yet, he should have just not answered his phone when it rang earlier that day, the name "Richard Gilmore" flashing on the LCD display.

He'd known the call was coming. If not from Richard, then from Lorelai. He'd been waiting for it since the moment two days ago when he'd pulled open the metal face of the mailbox on 39th and 7th and slid the letters Rory had given him inside.

So, yeah, being there was a bad idea. But he'd made his choices. He'd made them the moment Rory had thrown herself into his arms sobbing and begged him not to tell them where she was. He never could stand seeing her cry. The first time he'd witnessed her tears had been almost a year ago exactly on the very walkway on which he currently stood. And he'd been just as determined then as he was now to do whatever it took to make her happy. And if that meant looking straight into the eyes of her grandfather, and the rest of her family, and lying, that was just what he had to do.

With a determined inhale, Logan lifted his finger and rang the bell. A few moments later, the front door swung open to reveal none other than Richard Gilmore. He was surprised to see the man of the house opening the door himself. He looked dazed and disoriented, as though he'd just been happening by the front door as it rang and distractedly answered it without even realizing what he was doing. He was holding stationery with very familiar handwriting on it.

"Logan, come in, come in." Richard waved him into the house, as he continued to stare at the pages. He drifted off towards the sitting room without bothering to wait for Logan to enter, or make sure the door was closed behind them. Logan shut the door and followed Richard in.

"Logan, oh thank god, you're here." Emily stood up from her chair, striding over to him and throwing her arms around him. Logan's whole body stiffened up at the embrace. Emily had always greeted him warmly, but hugs were not a part of her usual repertoire. That kind of physical affection was not considered proper in their circles. And today, of all days, such an intense greeting was not something he was feeling particularly ready for; not with the guilty, little secret he was tasked with keeping.

"You know, Mom, maybe if you squeeze a little harder, you can turn him into a diamond." Emily pulled back and sent a glare towards her daughter who was sitting stiffly on the sofa, a blank expression on her face. It was the same blank expression she'd worn for the past several months. There was no hint of hope or excitement or disbelief on her face like there was on Richard and Emily's. He supposed he could chalk some of that up to the fact that he was there…they'd learned to coexist and work together towards their mutual goal of finding Rory, but he knew she still blamed him for her daughter's disappearance. Still, he assumed the arrival of Rory's letter would have incited some sort of emotional response in the woman.

"Did you get one too?" Emily asked hopefully.

"Get one what?" he asked as innocently as he could. He knew exactly 'one what' she was talking about. He'd been the one to send them after all; hell, he'd been the one to suggest their very existence. But obviously the Gilmores couldn't know that. Logan's eyes flitted nervously around the room; Emily's face fell in disappointment, Richard was rummaging through a writing desk in the corner, and Lorelai remained completely unresponsive on the sofa.

"We're just waiting on Patrick," Richard said as he made his way back toward the room still holding the stationery as well as a legal note pad filled with his scribbled handwriting. Patrick was the private detective the Gilmores had hired to search for Rory. He'd managed to track down her car only to find out she had sold it—for cash. The dealership that had bought it from her had then taken her via shuttle to the bus station but there had been buses going all over the country that day, and since the station had no security cameras, there had been no way to figure out which bus she'd gotten onto. Patrick had kept looking, but without much success. She hadn't accessed any of her bank accounts or credit cards since the first day she'd left—not too surprising since she had ten grand in cash from the car sale. No claims had been made to her health insurance, no applications for unemployment or food stamps or other government aid had been requested in her name.

Rory was a reporter, which meant she knew how to find people, and that also meant she knew how not to be found. And yet, by some miracle, Logan had found her.

But the people in front of him didn't know that, and he couldn't tell them. And he certainly couldn't tell Patrick. It was one thing to lie to her family, but to have to lie in front of a PI? How was he going to pull that off? The man was clearly going to realize something was up.

"Sit," Emily instructed, motioning to the settee across from Lorelai.

"Umm," Logan looked around uneasily, trying to figure out a way to excuse himself before Patrick arrived.

Lorelai must have mistaken his discomfort for confusion and taken pity on him. "We heard from Rory," she explained flatly.

"What?" Logan tried to make his feigned shock sound as genuine as possible. He sunk down onto the sofa as though he was no longer able to stand under the weight of the news. "How?"

"She sent us letters," Emily explained further.

"Us?" Logan asked.

"One for Lorelai, and one for Richard and me," Emily clarified.

"Christopher?" he asked, though he already knew the answer, obviously.

Emily shook her head. "He didn't get one. At least not yet. But he knows she's made contact." Logan nodded. He'd actually been thinking a lot about Rory's father these past several days. He supposed the idea of becoming a father himself made him more sympathetic to the his plight. He knew Christopher and Rory had never been particularly close, but he also knew the man loved his daughter. And he was using his own ample resources to do what he could to find her. The irony that she was living a mere twenty-minute cab ride from his home was not lost on Logan.

"So, umm, what'd she say?" He asked. Logan was glad he didn't believe in hell, because if he did, he'd be sure he was headed there. Which level of Dante's inferno was reserved for people who lied to a distraught mother and grandparents about the whereabouts of their missing child? What if it was his son…their son that went missing one day? He might not believe in hell, but he had a feeling karma was real. And he wasn't looking forward to that eventual payout.

"Nothing," Lorelai scoffed.

"But she wrote," Logan pointed out encouragingly, "so she's okay?"

"She says she's fine," Emily filled in. "She's safe and she has a job, and a place to stay." He noticed Emily shoot an indignant glare Lorelai's way. "Of course, for all we know the place she's staying could be a toolshed." Logan felt his stomach churn at the reminder of Rory's less than four-star living conditions. It wasn't a toolshed but he wasn't sure it was any better than a toolshed.

"That toolshed," Lorelai bit back, "was more of a home than this place ever was."

"Well, I'm sure Rory feels exactly the same way about her living conditions."

Logan glanced at Richard who appeared to be completely oblivious to the words his wife and daughter were having as he tapped the legal pad with his notes against his leg and stared, entranced, at the letter in his hands as though if he looked at it long enough the answer would appear like one of those magic eye puzzles.

"Look, let's focus on the positive here," Logan said. "She wrote…"

"Right," Lorelai scoffed again. "'Dear Mom, I'm alive but I'm still not coming home. Have a nice life. Signed, Rory'"

"At least she reached out. It's a start. It probably means she's missing you. Maybe…"

"Stop being so naïve," Lorelai interjected angrily with a roll of her eyes. "All of you." She looked around the room, glaring at each of them. "She's not missing us; she's probably just trying to squelch her guilt. And Mom," she turned to her mother, "You're right, she probably is living in a toolshed…or a shoe box with eight other people. And that's her choice, because she'd rather be there than here with us, just like it was my choice to live in a toolshed rather than stay here with you. And Dad…no matter how many times you read that letter, the only clue in that useless jumble of meaningless words is the postmark on the outside of the envelope. And considering that New York has a population of a mere eight million people, congratulations, it should only take you ten years to shift through every living soul there. And that's assuming she's still in New York and didn't only send these letters from there now because she knew she was moving on and they couldn't be used to trace back to her. The only thing these stupid, damn letters have told us is that Rory is alive and not being held against her will, which means her not being here is her choice. And nothing any of us can do is going to change that."

"Lorelai," Richard said in a conciliatory voice.

"NO!" Lorelai stood up, tossing her own letter on the coffee table. "She's not coming home. She's not coming home, and I can't do this anymore. I can't keep getting my hopes up for nothing," Tears were starting to fall from her eyes…the same blue irises she shared with her daughter. Logan felt his composure starting to go to hell. He couldn't do this. He couldn't stand here and pretend not to know. What the hell was he thinking coming here? "I just…" she shook her head defeatedly. "I can't do it." She pushed her way past him and disappeared into the foyer. A moment later Logan heard the front door slam shut.

He closed his eyes, pushing back the flood of shame and guilt that had been with him for days, but had magnified tenfold in the last couple of minutes. He'd wanted Rory to write those letters for her sake, and for her family's. But he'd be lying if he said it was a completely selfless act. He supposed a part of him thought that convincing her to contact her family would help alleviate some of the guilt he would feel for having to lie to them. But obviously he was a fool to think that. Hearing from her daughter hadn't eased Lorelai's mind at all. All it had done was rub in her face the fact that her daughter wanted nothing to do with her. And that reminder was on him.

"She'll come around," Richard said. "This isn't easy for her, you know."

"This isn't easy for any of us," Emily huffed.

"No, but…" Richard gave his wife a knowing look. Logan interpreted it as a reminder that Emily, better than anyone, knew the pain of a mother missing her only child.

Emily nodded in a rare moment of empathy. "Her birthday's this weekend," she told Logan "The two of them had been planning for her 21st birthday for forever. Something about Atlantic City and playing 21 when she turned 21. Anyway, she really thought Rory would be home by now."

He knew about Rory's birthday. He'd always known it was October sometime, but after she'd left and they'd started searching for her, personal identifying information like birthdays became particularly important. He didn't know about the Atlantic City thing though. Now he was even more determined to make sure her day was special. Because as much as he hated seeing how upset Lorelai was about it, he knew it had to be tearing Rory up inside too. And that's what he had to focus on; Rory…and the baby, of course.

He'd come to care about all of the Gilmores, but that was why he had to do this. If he stayed here, he'd cave. And then what would Rory do? Would she run again? Would she come home but hate him and refuse to let him have anything to do with her or the baby? He couldn't risk that. And that meant he had to get out of there, and not just right that moment. He had to keep his distance from her family for good; or at least until she was ready to come clean.

"I'm sorry," he said, putting his hands on his thighs and pushing himself up to standing. "I, umm…I don't think I can do this anymore."

"What?" Emily gasped.

"I just think," he exhaled painfully, "maybe Lorelai's right. I mean, she chose this. And, I mean, I get that's she's your granddaughter and you need to keep looking for her, but me…" he shrugged. "I mean, I'm just her ex." He cringed at the word. "She broke up with me. And I'm 23, and I have my whole future ahead of me; school, the business... I can't be dropping everything to come running just because she throws a crumb our way. So, I'm sorry, but…I'm out." God, he was a terrible human being. But he did what he had to do. He hoped someday they'd be able to forgive him. In the meantime, Rory's birthday was in two days and he had plans to make.

AN: Okay friends, it's time to review. Please let me know what you're thinking, I love to hear your thoughts and theories.