May 2005

He slowed the car to a crawl as he turned down the side street off the main square. He'd only been there once before, and he'd hardly been paying attention to the street signs the night of her grandparent's party. He was far more interested with what was inside the limo than what was outside. He was starting to realize just how foolish he'd been to assume he would remember the house once he saw it. The whole town looked exactly the same to him; full of white picket fences, and wrap around porches, and tire swings hanging from towering elms. It was like being inside a Norman Rockwell painting.

It wasn't like he didn't have ways of finding her address, but that would have required forethought and planning. None of which he'd done. He'd climbed behind the wheel of his Porsche 911 on instinct after nearly two days of moping about like a pathetic loser. He'd gone out with the gang Tuesday night. Colin and Finn had insisted on it—well, Colin had, anyway; Finn was too drunk to do much more than offer himself up as a replacement for Rory; an offer which Logan had not so politely declined. He'd drowned his sorrows in plenty of whiskey that night. He'd tried to distract himself with his friend's outlandish stories and pathetic attempts at hitting on women. But the night had been less than successful. He'd been depressed, and angry—so fucking angry. Who did she think she was—breaking up with him? He didn't need her. He'd had a line of women who'd be happy to take her place, even for one night. And to prove it, he'd even bought a buxom blonde a drink—then pulled her into a dark corner for a round of heavy petting and tongue tangoing. He'd had every intention of taking her back to his room and doing unspeakable things to her. But her curves felt wrong pressed against his chest. Her body didn't respond the correct ways to his touch. Her tongue didn't know the right tango moves. It was all just…wrong. And he hated Rory for that. He hated that she'd raised the bar so goddamn high that no one else would do; that no one else could fill the void. He hated that he couldn't hate her enough to go through with ruining any chance he had of getting her back; that he couldn't eschew any hope that maybe she would change her mind.

And so, here he was, driving aimlessly through the streets of some bucolic, hick town trying to find her house with no address and nothing more than a faint, alcohol hazed memory, just so he could beg her to take him back. At least he had some clues to go off of. He knew it had to be close to the town square since Rory mentioned she and her Mom frequently walked there…and the Gilmore women weren't exactly known for their love of exercise. She'd also told him about her neighbor's obsession with those creepy garden gnomes. And though it had been dark that night, he was pretty sure he remembered the house was blue.

He pulled the car off the road to evaluate a home that seemed to fit the ticket. Rory's car wasn't there, but he knew that would have been too easy. There was, however, a tan Jeep Wrangler parked in the driveway, and Logan was pretty sure he remembered her telling him her mother drove a Jeep. Could this possibly be it?

The only sure-fire way to know was to get out and knock. But now that he was here, he was second guessing his decision to ever come. Who the hell had he become? Chasing after someone who had unceremoniously dumped him via letter? Obsessed with the one woman who didn't want him? Why couldn't he stop wondering what he had done wrong? He was Logan Huntzberger; he was better than this. Except, apparently, he wasn't. And besides, at the very least, she owed him answers.

He knew getting answers wouldn't be easy. He'd probably have to go through her mother, and it was no secret that Lorelai Gilmore was not his biggest fan. Maybe she had something to do with why Rory had left him. Rory always was unnaturally close with her; her approval meant a lot. Or maybe it was his own parents that were the problem. They were great at messing up his life like that. And Logan was well aware of how much his father's criticism of her work had hurt—enough to get the notoriously straight-laced Rory Gilmore to commit a felony. Maybe she just couldn't deal with his parents' disapproval. But even so, he wasn't his father and she wasn't her mother and he deserved better than some stupid letter full of platitudes. So here he was. If she wanted to break up with him, he was at least going to make her do it face to face.

He turned off the ignition and got out of the car, marching his way through the yard to the porch. Before his moment of resolve could leave him, he started banging on the door, his raps coming in quick succession and not stopping until the door finally swung open to reveal the dour face of one Lorelai Gilmore.

"I want to talk to her."

Lorelai scoffed, her blue eyes carrying the same piercing intensity as her daughter's. "You have a lot of nerve showing up here."

"Listen, I deserve…"

"You deserve?" Lorelai cut him off, leaning forward menacingly. "You deserve nothing, Logan. I know you. I grew up surrounded by the Logan Huntzbergers of the world and you are nothing but an entitled brat who thinks just because you've always gotten everything you've wanted, that you deserve it. But you deserve nothing, least of all my daughter."

"That's not really your decision, now, is it?"

"No." She pulled back, never breaking eye contact. "But I wouldn't go underestimating my influence. You've known her less than a year, I've known her her whole life. I am her mother and I'll be damned if I'm going to let scum like you ruin her entire future."

"And what future is that? The future you decided she should have? The future you want for her?" Logan scoffed, shaking his head. "You parents are all alike, trying to live vicariously through your kids. Trying to force them to be perfect little clones; to have the jobs you choose for them, to be with the people you want them to be with. You may have 'influence,'" he air quoted the words, "but Rory will never be exactly who you want her to be and the more you try to influence her to be someone she's not, the more she's going to resent you until one day you find you're all out of influence."

"You don't know what you're talking about. And if you think you can stand between me and my daughter by breaking her down and turning her into a college dropout, yacht-stealing-felon…"

"That was not my idea and…" he trailed off as his brain began to process the full extent of Lorelai's words. "College drop out?" What the hell was Lorelai talking about?

"Oh please, don't pretend that wasn't the plan all along."

He narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What plan?"

"The plan to turn her into a society approved trophy wife."

Logan brought his hands up to his temples to rub them in frustration. "Jesus effin Christ. Why the hell is everyone so obsessed with us getting married? We were dating for like, three seconds."

"Well, it was long enough to destroy her entire future, so congratulations, you got what you wanted."

"You think this is what I wanted?" He swept his arms out. He didn't want her to drop out of school. And he sure as hell didn't want her to leave him. "I didn't want any of this. And I didn't destroy her future. Rory's a big girl who's perfectly capable of making her own mistakes."

"And yet she never committed a felony, or dropped out of school, or moved in with her boyfriend of, 'like, three seconds' before you came along."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Lorelai was seriously making no sense. He still couldn't believe Rory would have dropped out of school. And what did she mean, 'moved in with her boyfriend'?

"Go home, Logan. Go home to your girlfriend, you won…for now," she told him, starting to swing the door shut in his face. He reached out to grab it, pushing it back open. His heart was beating erratically in his chest, like a roulette ball bouncing around the wheel.

"Do you think Rory is with me?"

"Don't play dumb, Logan. Just go."

"Rory isn't with me," he insisted. He was having trouble breathing. Was she not here? Did Lorelai not know where she was? "Rory broke up with me."

A change came over Lorelai, like a shadow passing, wiping away all the emotion as it swept over her face. "What do you mean she broke up with you?"

"I mean she broke up with me. In a letter…" He reached into his back pocket to pull out the folded-up piece of paper that was starting to fall apart at the crease from all the times he'd re-read it in the last couple days. "Taped to my dorm room door…two days ago. You didn't know?"

She shook her head mechanically. "No." She plucked the letter from his grasp. "No, that's not possible, because…because she's not here in town. And if she went to her grandparents' or her…her father's or something, they would have told me. They would have told me she was with them. So she has to be with you. She went to your place after we fought. She had to have…"

"You fought?" he asked for clarification.

A flash of the anger she'd had earlier came over her once again. "She told me she was dropping out of Yale," she snapped.

"Right." It was all he could manage to get out. He couldn't get enough oxygen into his lungs to form any other words. Rory was missing. She'd fought with Lorelai, she'd left him a letter, and now she was gone.

The moment of anger had faded from Lorelai's face and the emotionless void was back as she stared blanky at the page filled with her daughter's cursive curls. He couldn't imagine what she was experiencing right now; it had to be a thousand times worse than what he was feeling, and he felt like he was in that room in The Temple of Doom with the ceiling full of spikes slowly descending on him.

"Umm, well…" It was clearly going to be up to him to snap out of it and do something here because Lorelai seemed to be completely untethered. "When was the last time you saw her? I mean, maybe she just needed a little space?"

"No," Lorelai shook her head. "No, I haven't seen her since Monday. She wouldn't be gone for that long. She wouldn't." He wanted to believe Lorelai was wrong, but he knew she wasn't. Rory's letter suddenly had a whole new meaning. 'I'm leaving. I left already, actually.' She wasn't just talking about him; she'd left Lorelai too. She'd left Yale and Stars Hollow. She'd left everything. Why? Because his father told her she didn't have it? That was ridiculous. You didn't throw your whole life away because of piece of crap criticism from a guy who didn't care about anyone or anything. Something else had to have happened.

"Maybe we should call people…just in case. I mean, Richard and Emily…"

"No!" Lorelai yelped, shaking her head. "No, I can't…I...can't. Telling them about Yale was bad enough, they can't find out...Besides, if she was there they would have called me, if only to tell me what a terrible mother I am."

"Okay, umm…" He rubbed his face, trying to think. "Well, there are other people we can call. Other places she could have gone. Her friend Lane's…or Paris'. I can call Paris…" Those were words he never thought he'd voluntarily say. But desperate times called for desperate measures. "And…umm, her friends from the paper. And, uh…Marty maybe? I don't have his info, but I can get it. And you check with her old high school friends. Someone has to know where she is." Although deep down, he knew that was a lie; no one knew where she was. 'There is only me. I have to do this on my own.' She was gone…and she was all alone.

October 2005

A thin layer of stubble had blossomed across his face overnight. His dirty blond tresses were in disarray. A ratty, secondhand throw blanket was draped over his waist with his right leg sticking out, the foot dangling over the edge of the bed along with his entire right arm.

She loved to watch him sleep. She knew she was hardly the only girl to ever wake up next to him, but it still felt like she was witnessing a secret; like she was seeing a part of him no one else got to see—the part of him that was free of the expectations and pressures and hype associated with being Logan Huntzberger. The part of him that was relaxed and content.

Of course, his peaceful demeanor was hardly the only reason she was reveling in this moment. When she had first awoke, she'd thought last night had been a dream. It wouldn't be the first time she'd had such vivid sensory experiences in her sleep; since her pregnancy, her dreams were exceptionally intense. And while Dave Grohl had been front and center in a few of them, for the last few weeks, Logan was clearly winning out in the role of leading man.

Of course, it became clear that this was more than just a dream as she realized that the pillow that was normally stuffed between her legs was warmer…and firmer…and hairier, than it had ever been before. And while her back ached and her bladder throbbed, when she opened her eyes and saw him lying there, she couldn't bring herself to move. Even if his leg wasn't wedged between hers', she was trapped between him and a wall and she'd long since lost what little grace she'd once had. There was no way out without waking him.

So, she stayed. She stayed and watched him sleep. She had no way of knowing what would happen when he woke. Would he regret sleeping with her when he saw her new body in the harsh light of day? Would he worry sex would make her attached and clingy and that she'd suddenly start expecting something from him? Would he decide that it had been a novel and fun experience while it lasted but now that it had happened he could check it off his list and move on to the next new experience?

She couldn't let herself worry about that though…she wouldn't. Because she couldn't regret what had happened last night. She couldn't regret this moment right now. She had been alone for so long and finally, even if it was just for one night, there had been someone there to take care of her and her needs. At first it had been the sheer sexual desire that had spurred her on; the swirling tempest of hormones combined with that husk in his voice, combined with five months of celibacy had somehow allowed her to overcome her insecurities and her nasty penchant for overthinking things. But then, when she'd abashedly admitted that she couldn't even lie flat on her back anymore and Logan had simply responded by grabbing the pillows to bolster her…that moment had wiped every reservation away. For the first time in half a year, there was someone there to offer her support …literally.

That was dangerous, she knew. A girl could get used to that kind of support and it's not like it was going to last. Best case scenario, they had a month or two of fun and pleasure before she moved on to a life of single motherhood and he moved on to his future as crown prince of an international media empire. Worst case scenario, he woke up and walked out never to be heard from again. Either way it was going to hurt when it happened. But now, in this moment, she was happy. So why not take whatever morsels of happiness she could get, while she could get it? The old Rory would have freaked out. She would have started trying to plan for every contingency. She would have been making pro-con lists and realizing that it was all cons and only one pro, even if it was a very big pro; the biggest…pro she had ever had.

But that was the old Rory; the Rory who believed that planning and hard work got you where you wanted to go. The Rory who thought so much of the future that she often neglected to live in the present, and who believed that one day all that sacrifice would pay off. That Rory didn't exist anymore. She'd begun to fade away the moment she eaten that banana in the cafeteria. And little by little, she'd continued to disappear as everyone and everything she thought she could rely on evaporated, until even Dean had turned his back on her. That moment had been the true death nell for the old Rory. This new Rory didn't believe in plans, or hope, or future happiness. Now was the only moment she could count on. Survival was all she could plan for. And so, she might as well be happy while she could. She might as well be happy now since tomorrow's happiness was far from guaranteed.

She knew she should wake him—Yale was a two…two and half hour drive away this time of morning, and he had class in three hours—but she couldn't bring herself to do it; she wanted to make this moment last as long as possible. Logan's REM cycle, however, was clearly not on her side. As he started to rouse, his limbs stretched out reflexively, causing him to tumble out of the too tiny bed and onto the floor.

"Oof."

"Sorry," Rory gritted her teeth as she tried to push herself up and peek over the edge of the bed to check on him. "Are you okay?"

He sat up, rubbing at his neck. "Uh…yeah," he mumbled groggily. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes. "Yeah, I'm good," he added more alertly. He turned to look at her and Rory noted a hint of trepidation behind his brown eyes. He had such expressive eyes. Her heart clenched—or maybe it was just baby-induced heart burn. "How are you?"

"Well, I'm still safely ensconced in the bed, so I'd say I'm doing better than you." She tried to keep her voice light and playful.

"Ensconced?" He let out a soft chuckle, his eyes softening. Rory felt the discomfort in her chest subside.

"Yes, ensconced," she insisted. It was a perfectly appropriate word. Her current state fit both definitions; she was settled snuggly on her new, comfortable mattress, but she also felt sheltered and safe, there in that apartment with him, in a way she hadn't felt in so long. So, she was sticking with her vocabulary choice.

"You get that off your word of the day calendar?" he teased as he pushed himself up off the ground.

"Are you suggesting I can't come up with my own words? I have quite the diverse lexicon you know; I used to be an English major."

The light in his eyes dimmed again. "I know." He turned away and sighed.

"What?" she asked as he picked his boxers up off the floor and put them on.

"'What' what?"

"I don't know, you just got…weird."

"Did I?" he shrugged.

"You did."

He shook his head. "It's nothing," he said, leaning in to place a chaste kiss to her lips. Despite her concern about his demeanor, she felt a flutter in her stomach so strong that she reached down to touch her belly, thinking for a split second that the baby had kicked.

He seemed to suddenly come to attention. "The baby?" he asked. He seemed almost…concerned. She blinked in puzzlement as she took in his tense posture.

"No…" she shook her head. "It umm, it was just a reflex."

"You're sure?" She tried not to overthink his interest in the wellbeing of the fetus growing inside of her. He wasn't a monster, of course he wouldn't want anything bad to happen to her or the baby. He was probably just happy he wasn't going to be forced to miss class to take her to the doctor or something.

She nodded her head in confirmation.

His shoulders drooped in what looked like relief. "Good."

An awkward silence settled over them. Logan was still just standing there in his boxers, fidgeting restlessly.

"I have to go to the bathroom." It was the truth. She was surprised her bladder had held on as long as it had. But it was also a convenient excuse to get a moment to escape the uneasiness that blanketed the room. She pulled herself to the edge of the bed, wrapping the sheet around her as she hefted herself up to standing, and made her way to the bathroom. Once the door had shut behind her, she dropped the sheet and slumped onto the toilet.

Why did he have to be so hard to read? Even his eyes were sending mixed messages. If he could just say 'it's been fun, have a nice life,' or something, at least she would know, and she could relax. But one moment it was all cute banter and the next it was awkward silences and averted gazes. It had been so much easier to channel the new, 'live in the moment' Rory when he'd been sleeping. She needed to get herself together and go back out there like she wasn't a complete, emotional train-wreck of a human being. He had enough reasons to be scared off without adding one more to the list.

She finished going to the bathroom and stood up, steeling her resolve. She wrapped the sheet around her securely, pulling it tight and tucking the corner into the top so it would stay up before making her way back into the main room. Logan was sitting on the bed, his back up against the wall, still in nothing but his boxers.

"You're not dressed?" She looked at the clock, it was getting late. He needed to get going.

He looked up at her. "Do you want me to be?"

"Well, I mean, don't get me wrong," she admitted. "I'm a fan of the view…"

He let out a laugh. "Good to know."

"But you're going to miss your class if you don't get going soon."

He shrugged. "I could skip it. You know, stick around for a little extra credit here…" he added with a smirk that made her heart flutter and her pussy quiver. But she couldn't let him do that. She pressed her eyes closed and tried to get control of her body.

"Logan, no. It's enough that you come all the way out here to check up on me at all. I can't let you start skipping class on my behalf."

"I've skipped class for much less persuasive reasons," he admitted. "And I think we both know I didn't come all the way out here just to check up on you."

She sighed. Men. Did they ever think with anything other than their dicks? He needed to go to class. He still got to have classes to go to. He still had a future and a career that he was born for. He had 'it,' unlike some people. And he had every resource and opportunity he needed to make it happen. She wasn't going to let him take that for granted just so they could spend the morning having sex. Besides, even if she wanted to, she couldn't.

"Well, mission accomplished, so you can head back to school now."

He narrowed his eyes, pushing himself up so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I'm just saying, you don't have to stick around on my account."

"Is that what you think I'm doing? Just sticking around to be polite or some shit? That I was just using you last night to fulfill some sort of kink fantasy and now I'm trying to save face and leave with my gentleman status intact?"

"No." Maybe.

He stood up. He was angry, she could tell. His brow was furrowed, his cheeks flushed red. "I told you last night, this isn't some charity. It wasn't then, and it isn't now. I'm here because I want to be. Because I like being with you. So, if you want me to go, then fine, say the word. But don't try to make me out to be the bad guy here so that you can walk away with some made up moral high ground."

"Logan, that's not…" She rubbed her eyes wearily with the heels of her hands. She hadn't expected him to get so upset. She hadn't meant to insult him. That wasn't what this was about. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at her challengingly.

"It's just…" She let out a sigh. "We have lives, Logan. You have a life a hundred miles from here. And I am so grateful for the time you've taken out of it to be with me. And for…for last night," she breathed out the last part, feeling her face flush. She diverted her eyes away. "But you have a life, and I don't want you missing out on it because of me. And I have a life too. It's not the one I ever wanted…that I ever imagined for myself. But it's what I've got, and it comes with responsibilities. You're not the only one with someplace else to be." She'd switched shifts with Jody just to be able to see Logan yesterday. Not that she could ever tell him that. She'd sound like a love-obsessed freak, switching her schedule to work around his. But anyway, the point was, she had to be to work herself in a few hours. And instead of her usual eight-hour shift, she had a ten-hour shift which was hard enough when she'd started but now, at almost seven months pregnant—plus adding in the rather…interrupted sleep she'd gotten last night…

His arms uncrossed, dropping to his sides and his shoulders relaxed as his scowl was replaced with a smile. "Someplace else to be, huh?" he asked, his eyebrows aching playfully. "Another date, I suppose. Who's the competition? Latin lover? Brilliant Harvard philosophy professor? Offensive tackle for the Patriots?"

Now it was her turn to be offended. "What? It's so laughable to think someone else might want me? You're the only one who could possibly give me the time of day, so I should just be grateful?"

"Ace," Logan rolled his eyes, taking a step towards her and putting his hands on her arms, apparently unaffected by her tongue lashing. "If you have to get to work you should have just said so. You don't have to literally and metaphorically push me out the door in nothing but my boxers."

She bit her lips, her shoulders slumping in embarrassment. Of course it sounded like the obvious solution when he said it. "I do wish you could stay."

"So do I." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Next week?"

She resisted the urge to tell him he didn't have to. He'd made it clear he wouldn't offer if he didn't want to, and she didn't want to offend him again. It was just that it made literally no sense to her. She had no idea why he'd want to keep coming back here. It wasn't like he couldn't get sex closer to home; with a thin, gorgeous, baggageless woman.

But that was the Old Rory talking. She needed to channel the New Rory. The one from this morning that was content to live in the moment. The one that was willing to take her happiness where she could get it. And being with Logan made her happy. So, if he was offering, who was she to say 'no?'

She nodded her head. "Same day?"

"That work for you?" he asked.

She'd have to switch shifts again, but she could make it happen. "Yeah, that's good." She gave a feeble smile.

He pulled her in for a hug and she took a moment to revel in the safe, warm feel of being enveloped in his arms. She hadn't realized until that moment, just how thirsty she was for physical touch. Maybe it hadn't been just the hormones last night. Maybe it was the need to be held; to feel the warm, soft touch of skin against skin, the all-encompassing pressure of arms being wrapped around her. She was starting to think maybe she missed this as much as she'd missed the sex.

"I guess I should get dressed," he mumbled into the crook of her neck, but he didn't let go.

"Mmm," she agreed.

"I need your phone number before I leave."

She pulled back just enough to look at him, but not enough to leave the comfort of his arms. "Phone number?"

"Yeah, I mean I assume that ancient looking Nokia I've seen you with actually makes and receives calls and isn't just for display? I can't call much; Dad gets my phone bill and he could put it together. But in case I need to get in touch with you…and you still have my number if you need anything—right?"

"Umm, yeah."

"Anything…" he reiterated.

Why was he being like this? What had she done to deserve it? She'd walked out on him. Run away, leaving him nothing but a letter. She didn't deserve his kindness. She didn't deserve to have him going out of his way to help her…to care for her. She didn't deserve any of it. But then again, she hadn't deserved to have Dean and her own mother turn their backs on her either. So maybe this was the Universe's way of trying to even things out a bit? Maybe she didn't deserve him, but she deserved something after all she'd been through. "Thanks."

He finally let her out of his arms. "Promise me you'll use it if you need it?" he implored.

"I will," she nodded. Of course need was a subjective word.

"Is it okay if I…" he pointed towards the bathroom.

"Of course," she told him.

She went over to the desk to write her new number down for him while he finished getting ready. When he re-emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, fully dressed, he took the slip of paper with her number and slid it into his back pocket before leaning in for a kiss. "I'll see you next week," he told her.

She nodded her head, feeling tears pressing at the backs of her eyeballs.

She stood there for…she wasn't sure how long after he'd left, just staring at the door he'd disappeared through. Why did she suddenly feel lonelier now than she had before he'd shown back up in her life? Why did she miss him already? He was coming back. It wasn't like she wasn't going to see him again.

She shook herself out of her daze and reached for that ancient looking Nokia, picking it up and dialing what was essentially the only number she ever dialed these days.

"Hey, Chica, what's up?"

"We need to talk…ASAP. Can you meet me at the bookstore for lunch? I promise not to storm off again," she added as sweetly as possible.

Jo was silent for a moment before she finally responded. "And I promise not to talk about your cankles again."

"I had sex." They were seated at a table in the back corner of the deli just down the block from the bookstore. Rory poked at the potato salad on her plate with a fork, barely glancing up at Jo out of the corner of her eyes.

"You don't say?" Jo replied as she eyed Rory's protruding stomach pointedly.

"No, I…" Rory stopped, looking around suspiciously, then turned back to face Jo, leaning in over the table. "I had sex last night."

Her friends lips curled up into a shrewd grin. "Well, well, my little girl is all grown up." Rory's face turned bright red. "I hate to tell you 'I told you so, but…' actually, no, I love to tell you 'I told you so.' So, how was it?"

"It was…weird."

Jo's face scrunched up in dissatisfaction. "Why do I get the feeling that we're not talking about the good kind of weird."

"There's a good kind of weird?"

"When it comes to sex, yes. It usually involves props and costumes…and maybe some spanking."

Rory shifted in her seat and she bit her lip as a sensation passed through her body.

"Oh," Jo noted, her eyebrows arching high. "Do we have a spanking fan?"

"What?! No! I mean, I've never…no." God, that was so wrong. It was gross, and misogynistic and sadistic. She wasn't into that kind of thing. She shifted in her seat, trying to shut her body up. She was just all wound up from last night. She didn't actually want that.

Jo laughed. "Only you could look so innocent and virginal while visibly pregnant."

Rory frustratedly speared a piece of potato with her fork, then lifted it up to point at Jo. "It wasn't like that," she insisted. "There was no…" she lowered her voice, "spanking…or anything like that. It was just awkward…I mean, at first. The general lead up to the act, but also, well, pregnancy changes things—makes them more…intense."

Jo's lips pursed together in approval as she nodded her head. "Intense is good."

"Yeah, well, apparently there is such a thing as too intense." She averted her eyes again as she picked up her roast beef on rye and took a bite. "It didn't last very long," she mumbled through a mouth full of food."

"Oh," Jo's face fell. "For him or for you?"

Rory bobbled her head back and forth noncommittally. "I kind of…you know. Like, pretty much as soon as he... And then, once I went, well…"

"Okay, well, I mean, at least you got yours so…"

"It was better the second time," Rory shrugged.

Jo's knowing smile was back. "He stayed for round two…" she noted with an approving nod. "Very nice."

"He umm…he stayed the whole night," Rory admitted.

Her friend blinked, her face turning serious. "He spent the night?"

"It was late," Rory argued. "I told him he could."

"So, you two are like…back together then?"

"What? No."

"Okay, well, it's just…he spent the night."

"Yeah, I'm aware."

"That's kind of a couple-y thing to do, don't you think?"

"He used to spend the night all the time when we were casual before."

"You weren't pregnant then."

"No."

"Okay, well, now you're pregnant. You're teeming with hormones and you're about to become permanently connected to a very needy, all consuming, human being. Don't you think any sane, rational man would be erecting major walls to keep you from getting too attached?"

Rory rolled her eyes. "You're reading too much into it. It's just sex."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Am I sure I'm not in a relationship with my commitment-phobic ex-boyfriend who is not the father of my baby?" The words made the very idea sound as insane as it should have been, but inside she was trying to push down the voice in her head telling her that Jo was making sense. Logan had always been clear about his intentions in the past. He'd avoided getting together with her at all in the beginning because he couldn't give her the commitment he thought she deserved. And when they did get together, he made it abundantly clear that it was just casual. When she'd seen him with that girl on State Street, he'd immediately come to her to assess the situation and make sure she was still okay with it. Logan had never shied away from setting the boundaries of their involvement in the past.

"Did you two discuss it?"

Rory fidgeted uncomfortably, taking another bite of her sandwich. "Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"I mean, we discussed that he liked spending time with me and that he was going to come back next week."

Jo sighed, burying her face in her hands. "Leigh,"

"What? I mean, last week you were pushing for this. Five minutes ago you were pushing for this. And now it's happened and I'm happy. Can't you just be happy for me?"

"I am. You deserve to be happy. I just want you to be careful. I mean, what happens when the baby comes?"

"What do you mean 'what happens when the baby comes?'"

"I mean, 'what happens when the baby comes?'" She shrugged. "What do you want to happen? Do you want Logan to stick around?"

"That's ridiculous," Rory pointed out. "Of course he's not going to stick around."

"That's not what I asked."

"Then what did you ask?"

"I asked what you wanted."

"What I want?" Rory scoffed. "I want to not be pregnant and to have a chance at a real relationship."

"Well," Jo shrugged matter-of-factly, leaning back in her chair, "the chance for that was when I met you at Planned Parenthood five months ago. But you made your choice then and now you have to live with it. So what do you want now?"

"I want…I want to be able to enjoy this," Rory insisted. "I can't think about tomorrow, or next month or when then baby comes. I just can't, Jo. I just…I need this. I need this and I can't…" She sniffled back a sob. She knew she was asking for trouble. She knew this was a bad idea in the long run. She knew she and Logan should probably talk. But then what? Then she'd probably lose him. And even though she knew she was going to lose him eventually, that was then and this was now. And she couldn't risk it. She just couldn't.

Jo reached out to grab her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Okay."

"Okay?" Rory looked up, sniffling back the snot in her nose and wiping away a tear. She knew Jo didn't really think it was okay. Her sudden relenting probably had more to do with the fear of pushing Rory to the point of stomping off again, then with any actual changing of her point of view. But Rory appreciated it all the same. She and Jo both knew this was going to blow up in her face at some point, and whenever that happened, Jo would be there to help her pick up the pieces.

AN: So first of all, Happy belated birthday LoveRocket09. Also, I know I owe you all some FA, and I swear, I'm working on it already, although no promises on when I'll actually have it up.

Now, as for this chapter, as always, please leave me a review. We got a little more insight into Logan and Lorelai and how things unfolded when Rory first ran away. Those two were just having two totally different conversations and they both blamed each other for interfering in their relationship with Rory. Will the knowledge that she left both of them help bridge their divide and forgive each other? And what did you think of the morning after? A little awkward. And Logan, for as hard as he's trying to tiptoe around Rory and not spook her, wound up getting a little pissed there for a minute. Is there more anger hiding under the surface? And if so, when will he show it? And how will Rory react. And of course, a little girl time is always necessary to deconstruct the after math of a romantic tryst. I'm just not so sure Rory likes Jo's deconstruction. But Jo isn't one to pull punches when it comes to saying what she's thinking. But in the end, she's a loyal friend. SO anyway, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Pretty please with a cherry on top