March 1984

"This is unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable." Straub's voice echoed through the wall to the landing, augmented by the stately home's impeccable acoustics. There weren't many things Lorelai liked about her house, but until this very moment, she had loved the acoustics. Sometimes, when her parents were out, she would come downstairs and stand in the living room and sing Pat Benatar at the top of her lungs—or Blondie, or Cyndie Lauper—and listen to the sounds reverberating off the walls like she was in a concert theater. She'd imagine the crowds cheering, holding their lit lighters up in the air demanding an encore. She imagined she was in Madrid or Berlin or Sydney; anywhere but here. And now—she placed a hand on her stomach as she slumped back against the wall of the landing where her and Chris sat eves dropping on their parent's conversation—now she'd be stuck here forever. All she could hope is that she could give this child a better life than the one she had.

"I feel sick." Francine felt sick? How did she think Lorelai felt? The morning sickness had been non-stop this past week.

"Everything's gone. It's been tossed right out the window." Francine let out a dramatic sob at Straub's words. "Stop crying." he demanded.

There was the click-clack of heels on the wood floor and then, "Here Francine, drink your water. We all need to calm down. Getting upset isn't going to get us anywhere." It seemed an ironic statement coming from her mother. Emily Gilmore could get herself into a tizzy over the maid using the wrong brand of furniture polish on her Henkel Harris coffee table, but her teenage daughter's pregnancy wasn't worth getting upset over.

"What do we tell people?" And that's what it always came down to—what people would think. No concern about her, about Christopher, about the baby. All they cared about was how it would smear their perfect society image.

"Well, who needs to know?" Was she serious?

"What do you mean, who needs to know?" Straub raged.

"You don't have to yell at me, Straub."

"Everybody has to know, Emily. Everybody will know. We can't pretend this didn't happen." Seriously, this was a pregnancy, not the flu. At the end, there would be a baby. What was she supposed to do, lock it in the attic like this was in a V.C. Andrews novel? Everyone knowing might be the only thing Lorelai ever agreed with Straub Hayden on, which might as well be hailed a miracle because it wasn't ever likely to happen again.

"You could send her away," Francine suggested.

"Excuse me?" To her mother's credit, she sounded as shocked and affronted as Lorelai at the suggestion. Though sometimes Lorelai wondered at the fact that she could still be shocked by people like Francine Hayden. The only thing that should be shocking coming from people in her parent's circles would be them being kind and selfless. But suggesting a young girl be sent away to have a baby in secret just to protect their social status, that was just par for the course.

"Aren't there places that take girls like that?"

"Girls like what, Francine?" Emily ground out. It was as close to a protective maternal instinct as Emily got, and Lorelai would almost appreciate it if they weren't all down there trying to dictate her future without even consulting her.

"Well, girls in…" Francine's voice caught in her throat. "I can't handle this, I can't handle this at all."

"Stop crying, dammit." Did the man ever do anything but complain? She understood why Chris hated him so much.

"Christopher is just as much to blame as Lorelai is."

"Like hell he is." A scoff escaped Lorelai's lips. Men never wanted to take responsibility for anything. It was always someone else's fault. Always a woman's fault. Well Christopher was just as much to blame. He had certainly not been an unwitting victim that night on the balcony; they'd both wanted it.

"They are in this together." She glanced over at Chris who was sitting silently, his head hung low with desperation. They had always been in this together; the two of them against their parents. He was the one who wanted to backpack through Europe and leave it all behind the second he graduated. But in that moment, she got the distinct impression that it was nothing more than talk and that in the end, he'd wind up kowtowing to his parent's whims. Were they in this together? Lorelai wasn't so sure anymore.

"I don't see why. Why should Christopher sacrifice everything we've planned for him just because…" Everything they'd planned. It was always about them. Their plans. Their reputations. Their problems. To them, children were just inconveniences to get through for the sake of furthering their legacies. That's all Lorelai and Christopher were—inconveniences that couldn't be controlled. Well, she couldn't anyway. And this baby—to them it was just an uncontrollable inconvenience as well.

"Choose your words extremely carefully, Straub," Emily warned.

"Emily, you know we love Lorelai," Francine fawned. Lorelai wasn't convinced Francine knew what love was; unless it was for a new string of pearls. She wasn't even sure she loved her own son. How could she when she didn't even know her son. "You know that. But Christopher's so young, he's a baby."

"Well, Lorelai's not exactly collecting social security." They weren't babies. Neither of them were babies. They hadn't been babies in a long time. And now they were going to be parents, which actually didn't seem so bad to Lorelai—she'd spent her whole life parenting herself so it wasn't exactly new to her.

"Why doesn't she get rid of it?"

"What?!"

"Straub," Francine gasped.

"It's an option." It was an option. Lorelai had considered it before she told her parents. There was no way she would have let them know she'd gotten pregnant if she wasn't planning to stay that way. And she knew there was nothing wrong with getting an abortion. She was pro-choice. But this wasn't just some theoretical child, it was her child. It was a piece of her. And it had changed something inside of her. She felt…connected to something in a way she'd never really known before. Certainly not to her parents. Not even to Christopher. She loved her parents and hated them in equal measure. And Christopher…he was an integral part of her life; a constant she could always count on. She cared about him, maybe she loved him. But this baby…this baby was pure. It was her heart, her spirit, her body. This baby made her feel like she had a reason; a reason to fight, and to live, and to dream. She couldn't get rid of that.

"It certainly is not an option," Emily informed him matter-of-factly.

"Why not?"

"Because I say so."

"Then what the hell are you suggesting, Emily? What's your great solution to this problem?"

"They will get married," Her father's voice echoed through the wall for the first time since the conversation had started. His words were low and icy. It was like the voice of Moses proclaiming the ten commandments; an indisputable decree from God above. "They will live here, and Christopher will go to work at my company. That is the solution. Now, we have a plan so we can all stop talking about it. Please excuse me, I have work to do."

A silence descended over the room as she watched her father walk past the stairwell where she and Christopher sat huddled. After a moment, her mother spoke. "I think Richard's plan sounds very sensible."

"I just have one question," Straub persisted. "Why his company?"

"What do you mean, his company?"

"Well, I have a law firm. Christopher could go to school."

God, it was never going to end. "I know we're all upset here folks," Lorelai mocked sarcastically, "but maybe we should ask the kids what they think. Lorelai, Christopher, anything to add here?"

"Quiet, they'll hear you." Chris hushed her.

"Not likely." They might as well be invisible. It didn't matter that they were the ones having the baby. They were irrelevant to the decisions being made around them. "I don't know how much longer I can just sit here like this."

"It's okay, let them talk."

"They're talking about us."

"They're trying to figure out what to do," Christopher defended.

"What to do with our lives. Our lives! Yours and mine and…" She looked down at her still flat stomach, and felt a swell of affection, "its."

"We're gonna need their help."

"We can take care of ourselves." They didn't need them. The goal had always been to get away from them. To escape. This baby didn't change that. If anything, it made it even more important that they be able to stand on their own feet. She wouldn't have their parents screwing up this baby's life like they'd screwed up hers and Christopher's.

"How?"

"We'll figure it out," she insisted.

"It's okay. It sounds okay."

"What sounds okay?"

"You know, working for your dad, living here. It sounds okay." Was he crazy? That wasn't the plan, that was never the plan.

"Chris, no! What about Europe? What about sleeping on a bench in Paris?" He had dreams. They both had dreams. She wasn't going to let their parents take that from them.

"We can't do that now. I have to get a job."

"No!" They'd figure it out; they could work their way through Europe doing odd jobs.

"I have to make money."

"No!" Money wasn't what their baby needed. It needed love, and joy, and freedom.

"It's okay, really." He looked so small to her in that moment. Had he always been so weak and scared? It didn't matter, there was no use fighting about it anymore. Their parents were doing enough of that for everyone."

"You're not even listening to each other," Emily's voice extolled from the other room. Francine sobbed yet again.

"Oh, for God's sake Francine, shut up!"

December 2005

Logan gripped the small, fuzzy creature tighter as the elevator ascended back to Rory's floor, the woolen fur caressing his fingers as they dug into the plush flesh of the stuffed animal. It felt so inadequate—this tiny teddy bear in a t-shirt that said 'get well.' He was used to grand gestures. He'd once bought a girl a $200 bottle of Chanel No. 5 for her birthday after two dates. In that life, he wouldn't have looked twice at a teddy bear; he would have considered such a gift beneath him—an insult to his taste and his reputation. And now…now it was all he could afford for the woman he loved who was pregnant and in the hospital with his son. It was probably more than he could afford, if he was being honest with himself; hospital gift shops weren't known for their competitive pricing.

Technically he still had his black card. But not for long; his parents were on their way. Richard and Emily had confirmed it. Rage had roiled deep inside of him at the revelation. He'd wanted to scream, to yell, to tell them that they'd had no right—he was an adult and this was his life. His and Rory's and soon, Samuel's.

But Rory didn't need the stress. And he didn't want to ruin her reunion with her family; it was going to be strained enough as it was. He had simply sent Emily a heated glare and let her go on about how this wasn't just Rory's problem, it was his, and his family needed to know about it so they could figure out what to do. He'd felt Rory's hand tighten around his and his eye's shifted back to see her looking at him with concern. "Are you okay?" she mouthed at him as Emily continued pontificating. He gave her a stiff nod of affirmation. He was going to have to deal with his father eventually, he just hated the idea of it happening here at this hospital in front of her.

He'd excused himself when he could, under the guise of giving Rory a little time with her grandparents. But really, he needed a minute to walk off his anger and try to mentally prep himself for the showdown that was about to occur. He'd wandered for a bit, eventually finding himself at the gift shop. As his eyes browsed the rows of "Get Well Soon" cards and shelves of wilting, overpriced flowers, they landed on the teddy bear. He knew he should save his money for diapers or formula or whatever else the baby would need, but he couldn't resist at least picking the bear up, and when he did, he felt a strange sense of calm wash over him. It didn't matter what Emily said about family responsibility. It didn't matter how many decibels his father's yelling reached. It didn't matter how much Lorelai hated him. Rory and Samuel were his family. He was going to be the father now. And he could deal with Lorelai.

He could do this. They could do this. This bear, this tiny conglomeration of cotton and nylon could represent a new beginning for them. It was time to stop clinging to the past. Time to stop holding on to the vision of his life he used to have. He didn't even like that life. He'd never wanted it. So why did he care if his parents knew? If his father cut him off? If his mother made with her histrionic displays about how he needed a 'proper wife' by his side. Rory was the only one he needed by his side. And together they'd be okay. He didn't need his parents or their money. Rory would help him figure out how to survive without it.

"Do you have any idea who I am?" the booming voice he knew all too well echoed through the hallway as he stepped off the elevator.

For fuck's sake. Logan cursed internally at the sound, his moment of assured certitude evaporating like a puff of breath on a cold day. It was about to be a very cold day. His heart rate immediately accelerated, filling him with a surge of adrenaline that compelled his feet forward into the fight he knew was awaiting him.

"I don't care about your fucking policy. I demand to know where my son is. And since I know who he's with, you are going to tell me what goddamn room she's in…"

"Dad!"

Mitchum turned from the poor unsuspecting nurse he was harassing; his eyes severe between the narrowed slit of his lids, the corners of his lips turned down, accentuating the age lines on his face.

His mother stood next to him, her eyes vacant like she was strung out on at least five different medications; she most likely was. "Oh Logan, please say it isn't true," she sobbed, her voice dramatic, but her face unable to display even a modicum of emotion.

"You've got a hell of a lot of explaining to do," his father sneered.

"You shouldn't be here." It was a completely irrelevant argument. Mitchum didn't care what he should or shouldn't do. He did whatever the hell he wanted. And Logan had expected no different.

"You turn off your cell, you turn off your pager. I told you, never turn off your pager."

"I got your pages." It was partly true. He'd gotten the incessant buzzing alert to their presence, but he'd refrained from actually reading any of them.

"So you're ignoring them? That's great." Mitchum sneered.

"I've been a little busy," Logan swept a hand around the waiting room. His mother let out a strangled sob.

"Right," Mitchum scoffed. "Busy running around for months, I'm told. Living your secret, little life with your secret, little girlfriend?" He plucked the teddy bear from Logan's hand and waved it in the air. "Were you ever going to tell us? Or were you just going to keep her hidden forever, sending her child support payments in cash with my money for the next eighteen years?" He shoved the bear at Shira but Logan intercepted it, grabbing it back. It was the very first thing he'd bought for his family on his own and he'd be damned if he let his parents take it from him.

He eyes narrowed as he leaned forward into Mitchum's space, indifferent to the two-inch height and fifty-pound weight difference between them. "That's none of your business."

"The hell it's not. Who do you think gets your credit card bill? The one you used to pay for nearly a dozen nights in a luxury suite at the Fairmont…complete with room service and spa package. Do you have any idea how much money you've spent on your little trysts? Because I do…Ken emailed me the credit card bills on the way over here. You're not even married and you've got yourself a mistress for fuck's sake. And let's not forget to mention all the plans I've made for London. The employees I've moved around, the meetings I've set up, the support systems I've been getting in place for you over there."

"Screw your plans. I'm not going to London."

"But Logan," Shira gasped.

"You're going to London," Mitchum growled. "You can bring the brat and your fawning little catastrophe of a baby momma along if you must, but if you think this is going to change the plan, you've got another thing coming." Logan could see the fury induced spittle forming in the corner of his father's mouth but he didn't care. In a showdown of who was angriest at this moment, Logan was sure no one could have him beat—not even his father.

"No, you've got another thing coming," he replied coldly. "If you talk about Rory or my son that way again, I will…"

"Don't speak to your father like that," Shira scolded.

"You'll what?" Mitchum laughed. "What's your play here, Logan? What did you think was going to happen?"

"It's not what I think it going to happen, it's what I know. And what I know is going to happen is that I qu…"

"What on earth is going on out here?" Richard's voice was stern and accusatory, cutting Logan off before the words could leave his mouth. The words he'd been wanting to say forever. The words that he'd been planning to say for weeks. He'd been so close. So incredibly close to having them out, made manifest by their utterance. He felt the disappoint wash over him as he looked around to see Richard approaching with Emily in step behind him. Several sets of stranger's eyes were not so discretely looking their way.

"Richard," Mitchum said to the older man; cold but polite. "Emily."

"Men," Richard said, looking back and forth from Mitchum to Logan. "I get that emotions are running high right now, but this is a hospital for heaven's sake. People are trying to rest. Rory is trying to rest." Richard pointed over his shoulder towards Rory's room.

"How is Rory?" Mitchum asked, his voice almost jovial. Was he serious? He was going to stand here and make polite chitchat with Richard about how Rory was after what he'd just said?

"She's hanging in there," Richard informed him.

"Good. Good, I'm glad. She's a sweet kid."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Logan!" Shira scolded. Logan glanced at her with a scowl before turning back to his father.

"You're not welcome here. You're not welcome anywhere near them. I want you out of this hospital."

"Now, now, let's not be hasty," Emily encouraged. "We're all family here."

"Oh god," Shira wept dramatically into a handkerchief. Emily sent her a sideways glance but foolishly decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"It's alright, Shira," Emily told her. "I know this seems overwhelming right now, but..."

"That's easy for you to say," his mother huffed.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Shira wiped a tear away and looked up at Emily to meet her eye; a look Logan knew to mean that his mother was done with fake politeness and was moving in for the attack. He didn't have time to stop it though. "Just that you've already had your family reputation tarnished by a pregnancy scandal. And now one of your little, jezebel off-spring have ruined yet another prominent family."

"Hey!" Logan flashed hot with anger and his mother's words.

"Please, Logan," his mother turned to him with pleading eyes. "Do you even know if this baby is yours? That girl is just like her mother, you can't trust her. I told you she was bad news. But maybe it's not too late. Maybe you could still…"

"I could still, 'what,' Mom?" he growled at the insinuation.

"Maybe no one needs to know, maybe you could still walk away."

"Oh please," Mitchum scoffed.

"What?" Shira gasped, turning to her husband. "You can't honestly want him to be with that…that…tramp."

"He got her pregnant, Shira. He can't very well walk away from her now. What will the board think if he can't take responsibility for his own shit? Besides, you of all people know what happens when you find a rich man to knock you up."

Shira let out a gasp. Richard's face turned red, his hand balling into a fist by his side. "Are you insinuating she did this on purpose?"

"Well," Mitchum shrugged indifferently, "she certainly wasn't about to make it as a journalist. And it's more than a little convenient that she disappeared until it was too late to do anything about it."

"Too late to do what about it?" Richard sneered.

"You know exactly what I mean, Richard."

"How dare you suggest…"

"Oh please," Mitchum rolled his eyes. "Don't act so sanctimonious. It's not like it's the first abortion I'd be paying for."

Richard and Emily both turned to Logan with horror in their eyes. He immediately held up his hands, teddy bear still clutched between his fingers. "Don't look at me!"

His mother let out another cry and blew her nose noisily into her handkerchief.

"Look, it doesn't matter," Mitchum said flippantly as though he hadn't just insulted Rory, Logan, his wife, and the Gilmores. It was just like him to think he could say whatever the hell he wanted and then just proceed, business as usual. "What's done is done. It's too late for her to get rid of it now, so we're stuck with it. And I'm sure she'll be a fine mother. She's certainly better at catering to others needs than she is at writing."

"Why you…" Richard's hand was balling up into an angry fist again, his head looked like it was about thirty seconds away from blowing out an eyeball. "You crushed that girl. I can't believe I defended you. But it's all true…everything Lorelai told us. About the dinner…the internship…"

"I told it like I saw it, Richard. It's not my fault the only way that girl had what it took to be a Hunztberger was to have a Huntzberger."

Richard scoffed. "My granddaughter has more writing talent in her pinky finger than that degenerate son of yours has in his whole body. When was the last time he even had a single article in the Yale Daily News?" Logan would be offended, but lines had been drawn and he knew which one he was on. Besides, it was true; Rory was a better writer than him…with way more published articles.

"And yet Logan will be the one running a newspaper business while Rory's busy ordering the nanny around."

"That's not how this is going to work…" It was as good an opening as he was going to get amidst all this yelling and Logan took it.

"You don't get to say how this is going to work," Mitchum snapped, spinning to face him. "I decide how this is going to work, do you hear me?"

"They heard you in Providence."

"You screwed up, Logan…like usual. You had one job. One rule while you spent the last ten years gallivanting around and screwing everything in a skirt…don't knock one of them up. And you couldn't even manage that so…"

"I quit." He words were steady and even, and just audible above the din of fighting.

A silence settled over the waiting room for the first time since he stepped off the elevator ten minutes ago. Richard, Emily, and his mother all looked at him in shock, but his father looked almost…amused. He clearly wasn't taking him seriously yet, but he would.

"You quit?" Mitchum finally broke the silence, spitting the words out amidst a laugh. Logan's face remained stony.

"I quit," he repeated. "I quit the company. I won't be going to London. I won't be working for you at all."

"Don't be ridiculous," Mitchum waved his hand dismissively.

"You think I'm joking?"

"You're about to have a kid to raise, Logan. How do you expect to do that without a job? Who's going to pay for diapers and clothes and formula while you're finishing school? Who's going to pay for you to finish school for that matter?"

"I graduate in two weeks."

"That's not possible. You still need six more credits."

"For my English major…which I dropped. I put the request in over a month ago and it's been approved."

"Logan," his mother cried out. "You need an English major. You're going to be running a newspaper company."

He turned to his mother and her distress seemed almost genuine this time and for a moment, he actually felt sorry for her. But not sorry enough. "Did you miss the part where I quit?"

"And what exactly do you plan on doing with your life?" Mitchum growled.

"I plan on spending it with my family."

"We're your family!" Shira pipped in desperately.

"Rory and Samuel are my family," Logan corrected her. They were all that mattered. All that had mattered since the moment he put his hand on Rory's stomach in that restaurant and felt his son kick. That was the moment he'd fallen in love with both of them. He'd never felt that way about anyone or anything before. His parents were, well...his parents; and he did love them, he supposed, but he also hated them. And sure, he'd do just about anything for his sister. But even that couldn't come close to the connection he felt with his son and the woman who carried him. He didn't know that kind of love was possible; had certainly never thought it was possible for him. But it was. Samuel made him feel a hope for his future that he couldn't have ever imagined. With Rory and Samuel in his life, he actually wanted the future to come. "And if you want to maintain even a semblance of a relationship with me, you will treat them with kindness and respect." Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Richard and Emily straighten up.

"This is ridiculous," his father bellowed. "You need a job."

"I have a job," Logan informed him. "One I got on my own. One that won't be used to try to control and manipulate me."

"And you think you can raise a kid on a starter salary?"

"Plenty of people manage."

"Plenty of people don't require hired help to do their laundry and make their beds," Mitchum scoffed.

"It'll be an adjustment, but I'll figure it out," Logan replied confidently. Sure, having money had been nice...more than nice. But it was just money. It wasn't what his son needed. His son needed to know he was loved, that he came first. He needed to know that he was free to be himself, no matter the cost.

"And if he needs a little help…" Logan felt a firm hand clasp him on the shoulder as Richard's voice once again made itself known. "His family will look after him." Apparently Richard didn't think he was a talentless degenerate anymore. That was good news. And while he appreciated it, a part of him was determined to do this on his own. Not that he was too proud to ask for help if they really needed it, but he was tired of relying on other people's money, of letting it control him. But he wasn't about to turn his back on this show of support at the moment. And besides, it wasn't like Richard was offering to put him and Rory up in a five-bedroom home and bankroll their lives.

"Thank you, Richard."

Richard stepped forward between Logan and Mitchum. "I think it's time for you to leave now."

It was his father's turn to look like his head was going to explode. His face was redder than Logan had ever seen it and the vein that ran along his temple was throbbing. Despite the deep sense of satisfaction at seeing that look on his father's face, Logan kind of hoped his father had skipped the coffee that morning because his blood pressure had to be through the roof and he didn't actually want to give the man a heart attack. He might hate him right now, but he was still his father.

Mitchum's mouth open and closed a few times, no words coming out. "Let's go, Shira," he finally managed to say, snatching his wife's hand. Shira hesitated for a moment, staring at Logan beseechingly. But then, she followed the pull of her husband's hand and they both disappeared down the hallway.

Logan looked down at the bear he still held in his hands, letting his thumb stroke over the fur. It would be alright. He didn't need his parents; he had his family.

AN: Alright, I hope the Huntzberger confrontation was everything you hoped it would be. And now that all the families officially know, where do we go from here? Will Mitchum rear his ugly head again? Will he try to prove his point by giving Logan what he wanted and staying out of it, expecting him to fail? At least he's got some new allies on his side with Richard, and probably Emily too. But will Lorelai be so swayed? And what will their friends think of all of this? Where will Rory go from here? Back to Stars Hollow? Will her and Logan move into her rickety old apartment together? Will Logan graduate and make it back in time to see Samuel born or will the pre-eclampsia cause her to have to deliver early? So many questions and as always, I'd love to hear your predictions.