Road Trip

"I have a surprise for you, Ace."

Rory Gilmore put down the historical novel that she'd been holding as a makeshift shield between her and the nonfictional love of her life. As deeply, disconcertingly and eternally in love with Logan as she happened to be, the naturally introverted Rory sometimes found fictional people easier-or at least safer-to interact with, particularly before she had mainlined sufficient amounts of caffeine. This happened to be the sort of morning when her fiance's powers of perception and knack for divining her thoughts made it likely that he'd ask questions she wasn't ready to answer. She had been off these past few weeks and couldn't muster the energy -or, let's face it, self-honesty - to explore the reasons why.

"I'm a fan of surprises." Rory reached across the table to squeeze his hand before taking another fortifying gulp of her iced coffee.

Logan grinned at her as he buttered his English muffin, looking entirely too cheerful, lively and energetic for this early hour. Then again, Logan was cheerful, lively and energetic at nearly every hour. Rory, whose infamous coffee addiction and tendency to worry meant that she was often awake to gaze fondly at her fiancé while he slumbered, had noticed that he even smiled as he slept. It was as if he were always dreaming about all the exciting possibilities the next day might benevolently offer-or, more likely, the ones he'd create himself. "Surprises are your natural enemy," he reminded her now. "You like lists and plans and order, or at least the illusion thereof. Clearly, we've arrived at the creepily intimate stage in our relationship where I know you better than you know yourself."

From the moment they had connected, Logan had seemed to understand her – not just the quiet, studious but secretly passionate college student she was at the time but the more confident, strong woman she yearned to become. At the same time, she had instantly sensed the keen intelligence beneath his frivolity, the fact that the recklessness he exhibited back then was fueled by temporary discontent and enduring bravery, and that he possessed a kind heart which not even decades of disparagement from his parents had shattered.

"Is it about going away this weekend?" Rory guessed. It was July 4th weekend, which meant that neither she nor Logan had to work. As the sociable extrovert of their duo, Logan probably wanted to take the opportunity to visit a few of their friends - especially the ones who might be simultaneously adventurous and insane enough to skydive with him. Rory did not yet fall into that category.

"We're going somewhere special," he assured her.

"I'm intrigued, but how will I know what to-"

"Just pack anything."

She smiled. "The next item on my to do list: begin a sentence that you don't know me well enough to finish."

Logan's face became uncharacteristically serious. "Is calling your mom back on that same to do list, or...?"

This time he paused to let her finish the sentence, but she didn't know how.

"I mean, I get that I can't relate to having a mom who actually wants to talk to you about something other than a mandatory meeting with the family attorney," Logan continued, "but I know how much she means to you. Maybe if you guys talked to each other instead of to me and Luke about each other, you could work this out."

"My mom and I tend to use words to deflect, not communicate," Rory informed him. She took a deep, shaky breath. "I know the woman utters about 500 words a minute, but she never really says anything about the f-word - that's feelings, get your mind out of the gutter - and taught me to be just as guarded. So now I'm probably making her proud by avoiding our complex emotional issues just like she always has."

"So you're okay with being estranged from her for reasons neither of you can even fully remember?" Logan said dubiously. "That's just not you, Ace."

"You've taught me to how to be happy overall no matter how much certain specific facets of my life may suck," Rory assured him, distracting both of them with a kiss. They both knew she hadn't actually answered his question.

The next morning, they tossed their overnight bags into the backseat of the surprisingly sensible car Logan had recently purchased. Logan triumphantly pulled a blindfold out of his pocket. "This way you can't see where I'm taking you. I know how sentimental you are, so this will take you back fondly to that first Life and Death Brigade outing when I couldn't let you see our destination."

Rory smiled as he tied it gently around her face. "Ah, yes, how fondly I recall feeling overcome by that special blend of annoyance, confusion and fear that you were abducting me into some sort of cult. Since you're temporarily blinding me, I assume this means you're the one driving?"

They had only been on the road a few seconds when Rory began eagerly showering him with questions like the journalist she had once aspired to be.

Logan laughingly refused to answer any of them.

"But you know I need to know things!" she protested. "And I like to psychologically prepare and figure out whether wherever we're going will have enough space for all the books I brought..."

"And yet most of the best stuff that's happened to us was unplanned and unforeseen," he reminded her. "Tell me you would have jumped off that scaffolding with me, the bizarro beginning to our love story, if you'd had enough time to mull it over in that brilliant, inconveniently rational mind of yours."

"Probably not," she admitted. She reached out to touch his leg. Or perhaps it was his arm. Really, the blindfold he had chosen was too effective at its job. "Just promise me this isn't one of your grand five-star vacations. You know we can't really afford it, and I don't need or even want it."

Ever since Logan had defied his parents in his choice of both a job and fiance, they had withdrawn all financial support. Needless to say, their emotional support had never existed in the first place. Logan had adjusted to life without wealth better than one might have anticipated, but sometimes he conveniently forgot that he was no longer in a position to spoil them both quite as lavishly.

"We're going exactly where we need to be," reiterated her maddeningly cryptic fiance, and they spent the rest of the drive chatting animatedly about everything from Cary Grant's best film to John Irving's best book to why it was so perilous when news prioritized entertaining over informing.

"We're here!" Logan announced a couple of hours after they'd departed, and Rory detected a note of uncharacteristic apprehension beneath his excitement. "Before I take off the blindfold, this might be a good time to remember that murder is frowned upon in the state of Connecticut..."

"We're in Connecticut?" Rory's voice came out as a squeak. "As in Stars Hollow, my beloved hometown that both attracts and creates more insane people per capita than any other town in America?"

"The very one."

"Logan, I'm going to..."

"Kiss me? Break up with me? Assault me? See, you finally did start a sentence I can't finish."

Logan removed the blindfold and studied Rory's expression as she took in their surroundings. They were in front of the house in which she'd been raised, and the woman who had worked hard to make it a home stood in the doorway, wearing a wide smile and holding out her arms.

"Mom!" Rory ran over to Lorelai and held her so tightly that the woman murmured something about suffocation, but at the moment neither of them seemed to feel oxygen was much of a necessity.

Lorelai gazed at Rory with blue eyes that were almost identical to her own. "When Logan called to make sure Luke and I would be home and semi-sane, I was worried you guys would have to cancel some exciting and exotic trip just to come here."

"This is the best possible destination," Rory insisted, and she took a break from hugging her mother long enough to kiss the man who always implicitly knew what - and who - she needed. She made a mental note to look into places where they could go skydiving together.