AN:I've had some of these one-shots saved on my laptop for months and have only just got the courage to post them now. This is just a short drabble ten years after Richard's passing. I would really love to hear on your thoughts and any ideas that you may want to see in future! This one was a bit of sad one. It also follows the story in "It is hard to put into words", but do not have to be read in order. These are just glimpses into their lives. Enjoy.
The soft light of an early spring afternoon filtered through the curtains of their living room in their South Kensington townhouse, casting a warm, golden hue over the room. Logan was sprawled out on the couch, eyes glued to his phone, while Rory had her head in book and legs stretched lazily across Logan's. She had a quiet smile on her face, lost in thought.
The silence was a rare comfort - something they didn't often get with two children racing around (both at school), Charlie (their loveable golden retriever) barking at invisible intruders, and the general ceaseless hum of their busy lives. But today was different. It had been ten years since Richard's passing. She couldn't make it back to the States to see her mother or her frail grandmother, but the absence of her grandfather seemed to weigh on her more than usual today. It ended up being so overwhelming that she had decided to take the day off work, a rarity for her, just to reflect on the situation. She remembered his voice, his wry humor, his lectures on the importance of hard work, and, of course, his love for her - something she had always known, but only got to feel too late in life. It felt especially poignant now that she was a mother herself.
"Do you ever think about him?" Rory asked, her voice quiet as she turned to Logan.
"Your grandfather?" Logan replied, looking up from his phone with a thoughtful expression, while running a hand through his darkening hair. "Yeah, I do, sometimes. He was a big presence in your life. I think he liked me, he was always an upstanding gentleman in the community."
Rory nodded, her gaze falling back on the street outside, looking at the other white townhouses opposite. "It's been ten years. It feels like it was just yesterday, but also a lifetime ago. Sometimes, I still expect to hear him on the other end of the phone, calling me up to tell me about some new investment he was making or giving me unsolicited advice on how to live my life. That did hurt, losing his voice." She smiled softly, remembering his meticulous, yet loving nature. The tears beginning to brim, reddening her eyes. "What hurt the most was the sudden stop in his letters. No matter where I was, he always aimed to send me a letter, written in his clear and diligent calligraphy. I think I still have some unopened ones upstairs in my drawer, ones that I couldn't even bare to look at after he died." A small chuckle erupted from the back of her throat, "When I was on Obama's trail, he couldn't send me letters, so he finally got round to emailing me so even then, he could still be in my corner. He truly was my biggest cheerleader, through the tough and the great times."
The lump in Rory's throat grew, her voice thickening with emotion. She choked back a sob, the tears threatening to spill. Logan shifted, setting his phone aside and sitting up straighter. He moved closer, his arm gently wrapping around her shoulders as he pressed a comforting kiss to her temple. "He could be tough, but I always felt like he saw right through me, through the cocky man of my youth. But in the end, I think he respected me - more than I probably deserved at the time." He chuckled softly. "And I know he had a soft spot for you, Rory. That never ."
"If he had known about the way things started up again with us, and how Jack came to be, I'm sure that soft spot would have vanished in an instant."
Logan's expression softened. He gently cupped her face, guiding her eyes to meet his.
"We can't rewrite the past, Ace. Yes, we made mistakes, and yes, we hurt people along the way. But we're better people now. We've grown, learned, and built a life out of it. That's what matters."
Rory's lips quirked up in a bittersweet smile. "He always said, 'Don't settle for comfort, Rory. Make your own way.' Sometimes I wonder if he ever thought I'd settle intothislife. A life with a partner and two kids in London, of all places."
Logan raised an eyebrow. "You mean, being a journalist for one of the most prominent newspapers arguably in Europe, living abroad, in a relationship of over ten years with two kids? Most people spend their lives searching for that, Ace."
Rory chuckled, leaning back into the chair. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. I just - sometimes I wish I could hear his voice again. Hear his opinions on things. You know, he would've had so much to say about where we are now. He always had an answer for everything."
Logan's face softened, and he moved over to sit beside her, pulling her hand into his. "He may not be here physically, but his influence is. You've got a little bit of him in you. In everything you do. And now, you've passed that on to Jack and to Emma."
Rory smiled at the thought and arched further back into Logan's embrace. "Maybe, I hope so. I really wished that my kids would have met him one day, he would have loved them. Well, he would have loved them once they were able to not excrete bodily fluids, but that's besides the point."
They sat in silence, the weight of the memory settling between them in a comforting, familiar way. Outside, the world carried on as usual, but in that moment, Rory felt a quiet peace in knowing that, while Richard was gone, his love and influence would always be a part of her - woven into the fabric of the life her and Logan had built together.