"Here you are," Logan said gently, seeing his girlfriend slumped over on a couch in the bride's dressing room.

"Here I am," Rory replied flatly.

"I was looking all over for you. I didn't see you when I was walking down the aisle. Looked for you during the ceremony. Where were you?"

"Here," Rory said matter-of-factly, gesturing to herself on the couch.

"Here? You missed the wedding?" Logan asked in confusion.

"I'll apologize to Honour later," Rory said without looking at him.

"Forget Honour. What's going on, Rory?"

"You didn't say a word. You just let me walk into a room full of girls you'd had sex with. Oh, no, wait. I'm sorry. You only had sex with two of them. One you just 'fooled around with' whatever that means. She spared me the parameters of the fooling around. You want to fill me in?"

Rory was fuming, staring at the man she had allowed herself to love. She could feel her cheeks burn with anger; her blue eyes were wide and resolute as she waited to hear what smooth talk Logan would use to explain himself.

"Rory…" Logan started to say.

Just hearing him say her name made her want to smack him. "You know what? Never mind. I've got a good imagination. I can figure it out."

"Okay, look,"

"I can't believe it, you didn't just cheat on me, you really cheated on me," Rory's eyes were brimming with tears.

"I didn't cheat on you," Logan stated simply with amazing conviction, as if that was enough to render the case closed.

"Oh, so you didn't sleep with…"

"No, I did, but we were broken up."

"No, you were broken up, not me. I thought we were just taking some time."

"Apart, not seeing each other."

"Yes, taking some time, not seeing each other for a while. That doesn't mean 'broken up.'"

"Oh, come on!" Logan's face twisted in anger, his brown eyes narrowing into dark slits.

"No! When…" Rory was yelling now. She forced herself to stop, organize her thoughts and steady her shaky voice before she continued, "To break up, you have to tell the other person. You can't just decide that you're broken off and then just go off and… God, I can't believe I fell for all your stupid tricks, the coffee cart and going to my mother. You went to my mother! Why would you bother going through that? You had plenty of backup; what do you need me for?"

"Because I love you," Logan said immediately.

"No," Rory said, shaking her head firmly. "Don't."

"Rory," Logan felt himself becoming desperate, but his cocky confidence never wavered. His voice remained even and steady, "I didn't cheat on you. I didn't lie to you."

"You didn't tell me!" Rory couldn't believe how far he was taking this charade. He really, truly believed he could smooth talk his way out of anything.

"Of course not. Why would I want you to be hurt and upset and angry?"

"'Blondie, dizzy', I love the cover, pretending all those girls were worthless idiots."

"They are worthless idiots, shooting their mouths off in front of you like that."

"It's not their fault."

"It is their fault. They love doing crap like this, causing trouble."

Rory couldn't believe what she was hearing. If scapegoating and shirking responsibility were to be made into an Olympic sport, Logan Huntzberger would be the undisputed gold medalist; he would hold his title for the rest of his earthly days, no one would ever hold a candle to him. She was through being just another notch in his belt of fools.

"We were only apart for like two seconds, and you managed to sleep with every one of your sister's friends. How did you even do that? I mean, did you work them in shifts? Were there charts, signals, b-12 shots?"

"I was depressed. I was lonely. I was upset. I've known these girls forever. It was just companionship, okay? It meant nothing."

Rory inwardly cursed herself for buying into his bullshit for almost two years. Her anger seethed further still when she thought about how readily she'd made excuses for him, defended him to everyone who warned her that he was no good for her.

She felt a fresh sting of pain when she pictured the face of the last person she'd driven away. The image of Jess walking away from her was all she needed to finally realize that there was no excuse, there never had been. A sinister laugh escaped her lips when she realized with perfect clarity that Jess wasn't just right about the Yale debacle, he was right about everything; even after all of the pain they caused each other, there was no denying that he really did know her better than anyone.

She snapped out of her inner monologue when she saw Logan staring at her; apparently her prolonged silence allowed him to believe he actually had a shot of weaseling out of the mess he'd made. No. Not anymore.

"Don't be at the apartment between ten and one tomorrow so I can get my stuff," she said definitively. She turned on her heel and stormed down the hallway away from Logan, towards the blaring sounds of his sister's wedding reception without looking back.

Rory walked at the clipped pace that comes with conviction and purpose. She realized that she felt a greater sense of conviction in walking away from Logan than she had about anything in a frighteningly long time. Walking away from Logan, Rory felt like she was walking towards her life, which she had made such a fantastic mess of. With each stride increasing the distance between them, Rory was sure that this was the monumental first step; everything would be fixed, of this she was certain. She was walking away from Logan, back to the version of herself she knew and recognized, back to the hard-working, Yale-Daily-News-perfectionist, pro/con list-making Rory who dreamed of being a journalist. Walking away from Logan she was leaving behind the sluggish, unmotivated, lazy, partying Rory he'd helped her turn into. The sheer joy that overwhelmed her when she thought of these truths was enough to make her giggle and her footsteps quickened and fell into a rhythm which had her practically skipping, feeling lighter than air.

She had to call Paris to ask if she could crash there tonight. There was no way she wanted to run the risk of seeing Logan before going to the apartment to gather her things. And now that she was thinking of it, she had another epiphany of sorts: she would be perfectly happy if she never saw Logan again, ever. Rory knew it would never be that simple but still, this made her smile wider and she let out an honest laugh. She could not get out of this cursed banquet hall fast enough; away from anyone with the name Huntzberger.

Her mind was getting away from her. First thing's first. Call Paris. Tell her she needed to move back in.

Beyond making sure she could move back in with Paris and going back to Logan's tomorrow to gather all of her belongings, she didn't need a pro/con list to tell her where she had to go, who she needed to talk to before anyone else, even her mom.

Getting away from Logan was a crucial first step, but Rory knew she needed to make things right with Jess. She'd spend tonight at Paris' apartment and try to blow off steam. She'd go to Logan's place promptly at ten tomorrow to gather her belongings and drop everything off with Paris.

Then, she needed to get to Philadelphia as soon as possible. She found herself praying that she hadn't screwed up beyond repair, praying that things could be fixed. She was done running from Jess and denying the strength of their connection. All she could do was hope that it wasn't too late to fix everything, hope with all her heart that now that she finally knew what she wanted, he wouldn't bolt. She was tired of running away from Jess, now all she wanted to do was run to him –be with him; with him, everything made sense. She should have gone after him that night, the last time she saw him. Now she was terrified by the creeping thought that it might be too late. But she had to try. Rory was sure that if they could work through it, Jess was her future. She wasn't scared of what she felt anymore, that she finally understood. What terrified her was the possibility that they'd pushed each other away too many times. What if it was too late?

Last time she saw Jess a few months ago, he'd brought her his book –she was still so proud that he'd written a book; she always knew he was capable of great things, he had such a great brain, he might even be smarter than her- and he told her he was living in Philadelphia, working at Truncheon, the publishing house that released his book.

Throughout all of the running away –he from her, she from him- and the inevitable heartache that followed, they always found their way back to each other. Neither one of them was afraid to hurt each other's feelings. Underneath all of the miscommunication, mixed signals and abandonment, they hurt each other because they loved each other, in the scary-grown-up, you're-the-only-one-I-want sort of way, though neither of them ever said the words out loud to the other (Jess said it once, and then got in his car and left and Rory didn't see him for months). When you're a teenager, that kind of love scares the hell out of you. It was no wonder they hurt each other so much.

Every time one of them pushed away, they always found their way back to each other, against their own better judgments and the strong warnings of danger from almost everyone else. In spite of all of that, it was always just Rory and Jess at the end of the day; they always found their way back together like metal finds a magnet. The universe was trying really hard; if they listened intently enough, they could probably almost hear the cosmos cooing, 'Patience, grasshopper'.

His words had been harsh and biting, but he spoke the truth from a place of love.

"Jess, wait," she'd said with a tone of desperation, running after him.

Jess stopped and turned to look at her. His face was stern; he let out a sigh of exasperation.

"Jess, I'm sorry," Rory said helplessly.

"We shouldn't have done this," Jess said, not bothering to conceal his disdain as he absentmindedly buttoned his denim jacket.

"He's just in a bad way lately,"

"He's a jerk," Jess spat out. His brown eyes were fierce, dark pools, aimed right at Rory. A lock of his dark hair fell carelessly across his face. His stubbly jaw was set in a frown; his brow creased in frustration. He ran a hand through his hair violently and dropped it to his side, clenching it in a tight fist over and over in an effort to calm himself.

"He was, in there. Definitely. I'm so sorry." Rory knew it was pathetic, before she even finished saying the words.

"I read that guy the second I saw him. I should have begged off."

"Well, I didn't want you to," desperation was creeping into her voice.

"He better not come out here," Jess said angrily.

"Please, Jess. He had a lot to drink. He's tired from travelling. This isn't him. I swear." There she was again, making excuses for her layabout boyfriend to the one person in the world she knew would never let her get away with it. Logan had just ruthlessly –and drunkenly- mocked Jess and everything he'd accomplished after crashing her dinner plans with him. Rory shouldn't have been trying to defend him. And yet…

"What the hell is going on?" Jess asked desperately.

"I told you. He's tired, and his family's bugging him right now… " She really was pathetic. She wasn't even grasping at straws anymore, she was grasping at toothpicks; short, thin, pointy toothpicks which could be used to inflict tiny wounds.

"No, no. I mean with you," Jess's anger was rising. "What's going on with you?"

"What do you mean?" Rory asked, crossing her arms over her chest, trying and failing to convince him she didn't know exactly what he was talking about.

"You know what I mean," Jess said, not even trying to hide his frustration. "I know you. I know you better than anyone. This isn't you!"

"I don't know," Rory said shakily, forcing the words out past the lump that was forming in her throat.

"What are you doing?!" Jess bit back, much sharper than before. "Living at your grandparents' place, being in the DAR, no Yale...WHY did you drop out of Yale?!"

"It's complicated." Rory could feel her control slipping away because Jess was making perfect sense.

"It's not! It's not complicated," Jess yelled. He almost reached out to grab her by the arms and literally try to shake some sense into her. But he repressed the urge and made do with closing the distance between them. They were almost the same height; by closing the foot wide gap between them, Jess was able to hold her gaze and make it almost impossible for her to shatter the intense mood of the exchange.

"You don't know," Rory said quietly. The look he was giving her right now was too much –the intense furrow in his brow, his mouth twisted into a lopsided scowl.

"This isn't you. This –you going out with this jerk, with the Porsche- we made fun of guys like this," he said a little more gently.

"You caught him on a bad night," Rory said for the umpteenth time; she knew she should have something better to say, but she just didn't. Jess was right. She knew Jess was right, so why couldn't she just admit it and end this torture she was putting them both through?

"This isn't about him!" Jess screamed. "Okay, screw him! What's going on with you? This isn't you, Rory. You know it isn't. What's going on?"

"I don't know," all of Rory's resolve was melting away from a combination of how disturbingly true this conversation was, and because of the man standing before her. How fitting that for two years she encouraged him, nurtured his potential and wanted to help him achieve great things; that scared him, so he ran away because he didn't know what else to do. And here he was, all mature and grown into himself, potential fully realized; everything she always wanted for him. Now she was the one acting like a bumbling fool and pushing him away. The painful irony was not lost on her. "I don't know," Rory repeated quietly, staring at her feet, willing herself to keep it together.

Jess immediately noticed the change in her. Her walls were down and she was dangerously close to crumbling at his feet. He looked at her gently and softened, "Hey, uh... may-may-maybe we'll catch up at a better time," he said. He reached out to cup her elbow, but stopped just short of actually touching her. Even though Rory was wearing a tweed jacket against the autumn cold, she could feel the warmth that radiated off his skin as his hand ghosted her arm. Jess turned and started to leave, but after a few paces he stopped and faced her. "Happy birthday, by the way. Wasn't that a couple weeks ago, your birthday?"

Rory nodded. Jess nodded back in acknowledgement, smiled softly and left. Rory watched him go and fought the overwhelming urge to run after him, wrap her arms around him and apologize for everything, past and present. She longed for nothing more than to cling to him and never let him go again. She was tired of the two of them always walking away. She didn't want to do it anymore.

Instead she stood with her feet firmly rooted to the pavement, watching him walk away until he was out of sight, at which point a silent tear escaped and trailed a warm path down her cheek. She didn't bother wiping it away, she just focused on feeling of the streak of wetness left in its wake; she watched it tumble off the edge of her jaw and hit the pavement.

All of the drama between them happened so long ago; she had to believe that things could be different now, that together, they could work through it and finally stop denying how well they fit together and understood each other. She would make things right with him. She had to. She needed him.