Fly Into the Sun
Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: Logan Huntzberger is adrift, buried under the weight of familial duty, disappointment, and unending expectations. Rory Gilmore knows a thing or two about all three… Or that one where Rory and Logan take on the world together. Rogan Yale AU. Non-Canon, OOC.
Rating: M for language and adult themes.
Trigger Warning: Unhealthy family dynamics.
Author: tlyxor1.
Fly Into The Sun
Part One: Freshman Year
Chapter One: Tea is For Trix and Trust Funds
Rory Gilmore's final vacation before college does not go the way she expects. There was a plan to backpack through Europe, to live off cheese and wine and overpriced street food, to see the sites with her mom by her side. They had been grand, fanciful plans, and plans Rory had been anticipating since their inception years earlier.
Sometimes though, circumstances change, and things don't always go the way anyone expects. In Rory's senior year at Chilton, the Independence Inn burned down. Afterwards, though it took time to make their decision, Rory's mother, Lorelai, and Lorelai's best friend, Sookie, began plans to make their dreams to own their own inn a reality.
In light of that, the Gilmore Girls' plans for a European adventure were regretfully set aside.
Rory didn't - and doesn't - mind too much. With her mother absorbed by preparations for the inn,, the teenager has been left to her own devices for much of the Summer. Her internship at the Stars Hollow Gazette and her waitressing gig with Luke keep her busy and out of trouble, as has Rory's volunteer work with the Daughters of the American Revolution. The rest of her time is spent in Stars Hollow, with Lane, with her books, preparing for her freshman year at Yale, and its good - Even the DAR.
Admittedly, Rory still isn't quite sure how her grandmother managed to get her to volunteer for the organisation without realising it, but the 18 year old can only dream of having that kind of finesse one day. Moreover, despite Lorelai's dire predictions, it hasn't been terrible. It involves administrative work for the most part, interspersed with bouts of research into US History, running errands, and copious amounts of chit-chat with the members. Tedious, but the research is interesting, and it makes Emily happy besides.
If nothing else, it's another reference for her resume and a convenient distraction from her breakup with Tristan, and not even her mother can disagree with that.
"Tell me about your Summer," Trix bids.
They're seated inside a cafe in the centre of Hertford that has a delightful selection of tea and treats, with low tables and deep, comfortable couches. Engulfed by the fragrant aroma of coffee and sweet things, the cafe is entirely decadent, and Rory loves it immediately.
"Summer's been good," Rory replies, "Busy. What about yours? I was surprised by your invitation."
Trix's health is on the decline. She's significantly more frail than she was even 12 months prior, and Rory's Grandpa Richard has been quite candid about the fact that they have been quite busy arranging her affairs.
Rory has no memories of a life without Trix. Not necessarily physically present, but always there regardless, a steadfast, practical voice among the chaotic, redoubtable opinions of Emily and Lorelai (the second) Gilmore. Much of their relationship has been maintained by regular and frequent correspondence between London and Stars Hollow, but her Gran has always been there, a mentor, a sounding board, and often, a sensible counterpoint to Lorelai's and Emily's contrasting (clashing) eccentricities.
Trix's mortality is not something Rory is ready to face.
In fact, it's something Rory expects she'll never be ready for.
"I wanted to see you before you head off to Yale," Trix explains, fussing with the tea service with age-softened, liver-spotted hands, "We have some things to discuss."
"Do we?" Rory wonders, nonplused. She watches Trix's hands as the older woman pours, beset by an unmistakable tremor but no less graceful for it.
"Indeed, but never mind that yet. Tell me about what has been keeping you busy."
Rory explains the events of her Summer in detail. She has a lot of stories to tell from her work at Luke's Diner, and she's enthusiastic about the opportunity to experience a real newsroom, such as it is. They're short a photographer so Rory's been roped into the role without much warning or preparation or training whatsoever, and it has been an interesting (albeit terrifying) learning curve.
She kind of likes it.
Trix is an attentive listener, nodding and laughing between sips of tea and careful bites of carrot cake, and Rory almost forgets that beyond a pleasant catch-up, Trix has a reason to meet with her.
"It sounds like you're working hard."
"I guess so."
It hasn't been all work and no play. Lane works at the diner too, and they usually hang out after the shifts they share (most of them), dissecting music, watching movies, talking and planning and dreaming of the future. Lane's off to Stanford University in the Fall to study Accounting or Pre-Medicine or something else suitably prestigious that Mrs Kim approves of, so they're making the most of their Summer. Soon, everything will change.
"Richard tells me you're also volunteering with the DAR?"
"I am," Rory confirms, "Just on Fridays. I'm not sure how, but Grandma tricked me into it."
"She's quite good at that," Trix replies, tone droll. Rory expects it's not a compliment, and she's not sure how to respond. "How do you like it?"
"It's okay. Not the most exciting work, but the experience is good. Have you had much to do with them?"
Behind her brand name bifocals, Trix rolls her eyes expressively. "I couldn't give a fig about the Daughters of the American Revolution. They're nothing but a bunch of old bats convinced of their own significance."
Trix means it unironically and wholeheartedly, and Rory can't decide if the hypocrisy makes her want to laugh, cry, or both.
"Maybe you can avoid telling Grandma that?"
The relationship between Trix and Emily is as strained as ever, and still just as uncomfortable to witness as the one between Emily and Lorelai. There's no love lost there, compounded by decades of disdain and disrespect, and Rory hates it.
""Emily knows perfectly well what I think about her little pet project - I've made no secret about it."
"Gran," Rory sighs, chiding and resigned and weary.
"Someone needs to keep that woman humble," Trix insists, stubborn and as unapologetic as ever, "But never mind that. As I said, I have something to discuss with you."
"Right," Rory wraps her hands around her mug, nervous, "Is something wrong?"
"Not at all, darling," Trix assures, "I wanted to discuss your trust fund."
"My trust fund," Rory echoes, oddly numb. In an abstract, distant kind of way, she's known for some time that there is money set aside for her, but she's never known about the particulars, and neither has she ever cared to ask.
"The one that I set up, that is," Trix adds, distracted by her cup of tea, "You'll have to ask your grandparents about the others."
"The others?" Rory squeaks, appalled by the notion.
"Of course," Trix glances at the teen over her bifocals, "Surely you know Richard and Straub have set aside trust funds for you."
"I didn't know that, actually."
"Perhaps you ought to ask them about it, then."
"Maybe," Rory hedges. She'd sooner have all of her teeth pulled out because one trust fund is bad enough, but she doesn't say that.
"Now, your trust fund."
Rory's head is already spinning with the revelation of multiple trusts, and the next half hour, as Trix outlines what she's due to gain access to in stages throughout the coming years, does not improve things. There's talk of money and investments of the stocks, bonds, and property variety, and mention of taxes, trust managers and bank accounts, and it is overwhelming. Unbelievable. Utterly terrifying.
Rory, eyes wide and hands shaking, hysterically wonders if she might faint.
She thinks she might.
"You'll have to sign some paperwork, but the bank account has already been set up, and I took the liberty of ordering some bank cards for you. A debit card for everyday expenses, and a credit card for anything extravagant. Mind you, you'll have to be responsible for paying any relevant bills and there won't be any assistance if you overspend, so I advise you spend wisely."
Rory can't imagine a world in which she would ever have occasion to spend more than 55 thousand dollars on a monthly basis - the very prospect seems outrageous, and that's without taking into consideration that she'll receive access to even more when she turns 21, when she graduates from college, and when she turns 25, not to mention whatever Richard and Straub have arranged - but she takes on the warning all the same.
"Good thing I learned to budget," she quips, though the attempt is half-hearted at best.
"Financial Literacy is an important skill to have," Trix acknowledges, "I've set this trust fund up in a way that will - I hope - allow you to learn to manage your money without first making the mistake of losing it all."
"I hope I don't disappoint."
"I'm sure you won't."
Trix produces the paperwork requiring Rory's signature, and in a daze, Rory signs where indicated. The cards, Rory is informed, will arrive in the mail in the next week or so.
"If you will accept another piece of advice from an old lady?"
"Of course, Gran."
"Don't ever sign anything without reading it first, and if you don't understand it, make sure someone who does understand it - and whom you trust - explains it to you. You never know what you might be unwittingly consenting to."
Rory flushes, feeling chastised, and also like she's already failing. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Good," Trix nods her satisfaction, packs away the paperwork, and drains the last dregs of tea in her cup, "I'm glad you agreed to meet with me today, my dear. It's been a pleasure."
Rory, with a lot to consider and the reluctant awareness that she has much more to discuss with the Grandparents Gilmore and Hayden, isn't sure she agrees, but she murmurs the obligatory pleasantries all the same, drives her great-grandmother home, and then makes the return trip to Stars Hollow on autopilot. She has a shift at Luke's Diner to get through before she can properly lose her mind, and six hours have never seemed so endless.
It will, at the very least, give her time to figure out what to tell her mother.
-!- -#-
Rory's shift at Luke's is largely unremarkable. Taylor and Luke have yet another disagreement about Luke's non-conformist tendencies, but that's about the only excitement Lane and Rory are witness to that evening. Not even Lorelai makes an appearance, instead dining with Sookie while they hammer out details for the design of their inn.
Rory is guiltily grateful for the reprieve from her mother's scrutiny. The slow night allows her plenty of time to reflect over her afternoon tea with Trix, as well as the inevitable conflict it will cause with Lorelai, who will not be pleased by Rory's windfall, such as it is. Her reaction to the Prius - a gift from her grandparents upon her graduation from Chilton - had been bad enough.
Rory dreads the conversation, and the anxiety has her disengaged and preoccupied throughout her shift.
Lane, bless her, leaves Rory to her musings, busying herself behind the counter while Rory throws herself into her work on the floor, wiping down tables, clearing away plates, refilling drinks and what have you. It's a familiar routine, perfected over the months they've been working together, and only made possible by the longevity of their friendship.
It's not always smooth sailing, however. Kirk has a tendency to throw a spanner in the works, as does Taylor, and sometimes, Rory's own mother.
In this particular instance, the disturbance doesn't come from the usual suspects. Rather, their easy rhythm is disrupted by Dean and Lindsay's entry into the diner, the newly engaged pair eager for a late dinner after a long day they've both spent moving into their new apartment.
"Hey," she greets them both with a smile, "Take a seat wherever. I'll grab you some menus."
Rory does just that, provides them with water and sets out cutlery, makes idle chit-chat with Lindsay about their respective days, the weather, their Summers thus far. All the while, Dean has turned into a functional mute, debilitatingly awkward and apparently determined to avoid eye contact with Rory at all costs.
Rory hopes they eat quickly - The secondhand discomfort is awful.
"It's weird," Lane decides. She pulls a face as she refills the salt and pepper shakers. "It kind of screams 'I peaked in high school', doesn't it?"
"I don't think I'd go that far," Rory hedges, busying herself with refilling the napkin holders.
Stars Hollow is a small town. They may not have been close, but Rory's known Lindsay as long as she's known Lane. In addition, Rory and Dean might have only been 15 at the time, but they were in a relationship for months. Rory knows them both, and knows perfectly well that they are each intelligent, talented people with bright futures ahead of them. Stars Hollow High was just the beginning of their journey.
Lane glances at Dean and Lindsay, eating in exhausted silence, pulls another face, and returns to her task. "I just can't imagine getting married at our age."
Rory hums her agreement. "Neither."
"How are you not more weirded out? I think I'd die if it was Henry."
Rory shrugs and reasons, "It's been three years. I moved on a long time ago. I think it would be more weird if I was weirded out."
There's also the reality that Rory isn't a stranger to the prospect of teenagers taking on adult responsibilities. Dean and Lindsay aren't expecting (not to Rory's knowledge, anyway), but marriage is an adult commitment the same way having a baby is. It's certainly not one Rory would wish for herself at this point in her life, but if it's something Dean and Lindsay are ready for? Who is Rory to judge them
"Seriously?"
"I guess I'm jealous that they have it figured out," Rory concedes, "It must be nice."
Without fail, Rory's mind drifts back to Tristan and the gaping void in her life he's left behind.
It's been months, but She still misses him, the companionship, the witty repartee,, the heat of his body against her own. He was a fundamental part of her life for two years, had pushed her to learn and change and grow in ways Dean and Jess had not, and the adjustment to their break-up has been long and slow and difficult. They'd ended things amicably when it became evident that their relationship had run its course, but two years is a long time, and his absence still hurts.
"Maybe."
They separate as Rory returns to the floor, clearing away empty plates, refilling drinks, bantering lightheartedly with the few patrons remaining. They're all familiar faces, featuring acts in the film reel of her memories, fixtures of Stars Hollow the same way as the gazebo or Al's Pancake World or Doose's Market. Rory can't imagine not seeing them on a regular basis, but the end of Summer is hurdling towards Rory and Lane like a freight train, and with it, the girls' inevitable departure from the only home they've ever known.
Eventually, the patrons leave, Dean and Lindsay among them. Caesar closes up the kitchen, they lock the front door promptly at ten, and proceed with their usual closing-shift chores to the accompaniment of Blink 182 through Luke's decrepit speaker system.
"Here's your share of the tips," Lane offers Rory a handful of cash, "120 dollars."
"Thanks." Rory accepts it awkwardly, suddenly conscious of the fact that she doesn't need to save up for the year ahead at all. It doesn't seem fair to split the tips, but Lane would refuse to accept the brunette's share, and on a more selfish note, it would raise questions Rory isn't ready to answer. "Are you coming over tonight?"
"No," Lane demurs tactfully, "I'm going to head home; I need to let Momma know I'm alive."
"Sure," Rory acquiesces, "I'll drive you."
Lane doesn't argue. They both know better than to walk alone after dark. Stars Hollow is a sleepy little place, but some things are universal.
"Thanks," Lane says instead, clambers into the car, and slumps against the door. "Gosh, I can't wait for a shower."
"Tell me about it."
They spend the remainder of the short drive in a tired kind of silence, the quiet broken only by the hum of the Prius' engine and the strains of Iron and Wine filtering from Rory's speakers. Before long, however, Rory's pulling up in front of Lane's home, and Lane's gathering her things to leave.
"Thanks, Rory. You're the best."
Rory smiles. "I try."
Lane laughs. "So humble, too. I'll talk to you tomorrow?"
"Of course."
Rory watches Lane slip into the shop and then makes her way home, stomach churning with nerves. A conversation with Lorelai awaits and the prospect has not gotten any more appealing in the last six hours, but there's no avoiding the inevitable. With that in mind, Rory sucks up her flagging courage and prepares to face the music.
-!- -#-
Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed. I'm vision impaired, so let me know if I've spelt anything wrong.
Until next time, -t.