A/N: I haven't written fanfiction in over six years, and I haven't written Gilmore Girls fanfiction in even longer than that. But I've always loved Rory and Logan together and after seeing the revival this just poured out of me. It's my attempt to make sense of the situation they find themselves in. This is told from Rory's POV and will be three parts. Pre, during, and post AYITL.
part one
It starts in Hamburg over the holidays. December of 2014, if you want to be precise.
There was once a time when Rory Gilmore would never dream of being anywhere but Stars Hollow for Christmas. But a lot has changed since then. She's a vagabond. She's Jack Kerouac. She's on the road. (Or she's desperate to prove herself, and stays away longer and longer until she finally feels worthy of the praise they give her.) And she's spending the month of December in Germany chasing a story she's not even all that invested in. So it's the holidays and she's in Hamburg. And so is Logan.
The way it happens is every bit a movie cliché. She's in a crowded bar, with some other freelancers on the same beat as her. They're getting drinks and debating the merits of the Oxford comma when she turns around and knocks right into him, spills his beer down the front of his shirt. She looks up, starts to apologize, and then their eyes meet. She stops mid-sentence, suddenly unable to speak.
He smirks and says, "You know this would be a cute meet if we hadn't already met."
She laughs, and hands him a napkin. "Hi Logan."
He grabs her hand, and the napkin all at once, and doesn't let go. "Hey Ace."
She'd like to say they talked for hours, caught up on each other's lives, shared stories and apologized for past mistakes. But it's more like him backing her up against the wall of a dive bar, his hands in her hair, hers fisting his blue button down shirt, all of five minutes after they've exchanged pleasantries. It's fireworks exploding, and rockets red glaring, and the best kiss she's had since the last time they kissed.
Her lucky red dress ends up on the floor of a hotel in Hamburg, and she couldn't care less.
:::
They spend the last two weeks of the year huddled up in his hotel room together, leaving only when necessary. He's there on business, and she's technically chasing a story, so their days are often booked, but their nights, their nights are free.
Eventually they do catch up on each other lives. He tells her about London, and how he's working for his Dad again. (She knows. She already knows it all thanks to Facebook and LinkedIn and Instagram, but she doesn't tell him that.) She tells him about life on the road, and Taylor's grand master plans for Stars Hollow. They talk about their growing families and their siblings, and the changing Journalism industry. They debate the death of print. They spend New Year's Eve together, tangled in his bed sheets eating burgers and French fries and drinking champagne.
It's the happiest she's been in years.
:::
The clock strikes midnight, a new year starts and then the panic sets in.
He's in the other room, calling down for breakfast and she's lying in his bed, wearing nothing but his t-shirt when she starts thinking things through.
She has to be in NYC in less then a day. And Stars Hollow in less than a week. Then California. London at some point and then who knows. She couldn't even make an educated guess as to when she'd be able to see him again. And that's without adding in the work schedule of a London based media mogul. This will never work. He'll never want to do long distance. Not again. And not like this with no set plans for the future.
The thought of this ending badly leaves her queasy. But so does the thought of losing contact completely. So she throws back the covers and searches for her jeans as she starts rehearsing a speech in her head.
When he walks in with coffee and croissants, she's already tugging on her jeans, desperate to get out of there before she falls apart. One look at him and she knows he knows what she's doing.
"You're making me feel cheap, Ace."
She throws his shirt at him and tries to laugh. "Sorry. I've got a flight to catch," she says around the lump in her throat.
"Where to now?"
"Back to Brooklyn." She says, as she starts throwing things into her suitcase haphazardly- so different from the way she used to pack. (So different from the girl she used to be.) "Hep Alien has a gig, so I thought I'd stop in. Actually spend a few days in the apartment I'm paying for, pitch a few pieces to publishers. Then catch a ride back with Lane. Stop by to see Mom and Luke. And I haven't been to Friday night dinner in forever."
"You're a busy woman."
"And you're a busy man." She zips her suitcase with a little more effort than necessary, then finally looks up. "That's why I think this can work."
"This?"
"You live in London. And I live... everywhere. I know we can't do this for real...But maybe we can do this..." She gestures between them, "When we can." She kisses him softly. "I do come to London pretty often these days. And what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?"
For a minute she thinks he's going to protest, but then he says, "Vegas. Right." A beat, and then, "I'll call you a car."
As she gets into the back of a town car he hands her a cup of coffee, and gives her a sweet, slow kiss that feels anything but casual. "Let me know when you're back in London."
It's not enough, but it's enough for now.
:::
She doesn't mean for them to fall back into their old ways so easily. But they do.
It starts with texts and emails. Then goes to phone calls and video chats. She lets him know when she's coming to London, and makes plans. Plays. Tours. Trips to the homes of Austen and Shakespeare. Her hotel rooms go unused, so she stops booking them after the fourth or fifth visit. They go to dinner. They talk about their day. They grab drinks with Colin and Finn when the boys visit. She rants and complains about her trouble finding steady work. He practices his HPG pitches with her. They spend more than a few nights curled up on the couch watching Netflix. Downton Abbey for her. Then Halt and Catch Fire for him.
They manage this non-relationship much like they did the first time he was in London. Much like they would have if they'd stayed together when she graduated and he moved to California. It feels like before, when they were in the early stages of stringless fun, but actually only dating each other.
It feels like coming home.
:::
For once he's going to be in New York. It's a business trip, and he's only in for the weekend. But still, she makes plans. To show him her tiny apartment. To take him to the hole-in-the wall Italian restaurant that's her absolute favorite. To sleep late on Sunday morning and walk to brunch holding hands. So she tells her mom she can't come home that weekend, writes her freelance pieces in advance, and makes a few reservations. Despite herself, she's excited.
But when she answers the knock on her door first thing Friday morning, it's not Logan. It's Finn, Colin and Robert instead. Finn has a sullen expression on his face when he greets her, but it's Colin that drops the bad news. Something came up, he tells her, and Logan wasn't able to make the trip, but he sent the boys to keep her company.
They go out for Italian and walk around the city, and all crash on her apartment floor for two days. On Sunday when they leave, after brunch at her favorite spot, she goes home, locks the door, and cries. Then she calls Logan and tells him that frankly, she probably had a better time with the boys than she ever would have with him.
:::
Their weekend in Brooklyn that never was is a wakeup call.
She's attached and it freaks her out. They're not in a relationship. She's not in a relationship. She needs to be rootless and independent. Meeting new people. Dating around. She's not supposed to be attached. She's not supposed to be getting serious. Her life is not where it's supposed to be for serious. She has things to accomplish still. She can't be serious. So she starts dating other people.
She meets Paul via an old friend from the Obama campaign who thought a nice girl like Rory could appreciate a sweet guy like Paul. (Rory hasn't gone for sweet since she was 16, and she's not sure she's all that nice anymore but that's neither here nor there.) They go out a handful of times and he's not a bad guy. But he's not for her either.
It's not just the tea thing. Or his lack of a love of breakfast food. Or that when you ask him what kind of music he likes, he says Everything. It's that he wants a different type of life. Paul wants to get married. Paul wants to settle down. Paul wants to move back to his hometown and start having kids right away. That is not what Rory wants.
She knows she should cut him loose, but she can't bring herself to let go. She needs that life vest. He's like an insurance policy. Which doesn't get less shitty no matter how she phrases it. When Logan doesn't answer his phone, she calls Paul. When he cancels plans, she calls Paul. When she needs a date to a networking event, she calls Paul. It's a horrible thing to do but she does it anyway.
Eventually, her mom and grandmother start asking about her love life and she panics. If her mother knew she was seeing Logan again she'd freak. Emily Gilmore would start planning the wedding. They definitely can't know. That's how Paul ends up coming to Friday night dinner. He meets Lorelai and Luke and Emily and Richard. And it's perfectly nice. But everyone knows he's a passing ship and no one gets invested.
He's a love interest that causes no family drama. She keeps him around.
:::
Paul may not be all that interesting, or even all that memorable, but that's ok. Paul exists in her NYC world, and occasionally her Connecticut world. But she's not in that world all that often anymore.
The rest of the time there's Logan.
There's Logan offering her closet space in his London apartment. There's Logan surprising her in Paris when she didn't even tell him she'd be there. There's Logan copyediting her piece for Slate. There's Logan ruining the series finale of Mad Men for her before she has time to watch it. There's Logan sending Colin, Finn, and Robert to cheer her up when she's had a particularly bad day.
Logan is everywhere. And it feels so natural, so right, so much like it should, that she doesn't even notice the asteroid heading right for her.
:::
She's standing barefoot in the middle of her kitchen when she sees it. One minute she's chugging coffee and enjoying a breakfast of mini doughnuts and potato chips as she flips through the Sunday edition of the New York Times, and the next she's looking at a picture of Logan wrapped around a French waif. She drops her coffee mug. Nauseous, she sinks to the floor, back against her cabinets, suddenly unable to stand.
She should have seen it coming. But honestly her life is tearing apart at the seams in so many different ways that sometimes it's hard to keep track. So the extra phone calls, the not-so-subtle digs at his father, all the talk about the Huntzberger destiny, and finally, his insistence that she come visit because he just needs to see her in person, they all went right over her head. Until now.
She didn't even know he was seeing anyone else. Sure, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. But they've been in Vegas quite a lot lately. She feels…20 again. Catching him on State Street with another girl.
She hates herself for it, but she reads every single word of the full-page engagement announcement. Then spends the next three hours googling Odette.
:::
She ignores his calls for about a week before he gives in and starts explaining via text. First…I'm sorry. Then. I was planning to talk to you about this. Then It wasn't planned. Followed by My mother arranged the announcement. I would never blindside you like that on purpose. It's Ace, please that gets her.
She's in a coffee shop by her apartment mooching off of the free Wi-Fi and staring at the rain as it splashes against the window when she finally answers him. Just so he stops texting her she responds with two words. It's fine.
It's not fine. Obviously it's not fine. It's not fine at all. It's so far from fine she'd need Google Maps to find fine. But she doesn't have a leg to stand on in this situation so what else can she say? It has to be fine.
Two seconds later he's calling her, and because she's in a public place and therefore less likely to start screaming at him, she answers. "Logan."
"Ace. Please. I wanted to talk to you before all of this happened. I know this looks bad but my parents set this thing up and it was never supposed to—"
"Don't worry about it." She cuts him off because she just can't hear anymore. Her voice is already cracking. "Vegas, right? Do what you have to do."
"Rory—"
"Logan, look, I get it. You didn't want me to find out this way. But I did." She picks at her blueberry muffin and tries to find the right words. "And now that I know... I know. And I can't un-know."
"No Rory, you don't understand."
"I think I understand perfectly Logan." She pauses, takes a sip of her coffee, and adds "You're engaged. That part was correct, yes?"
He sighs. She can practically see him, running his hands through his hair. "Yes, but."
"Then I understand."
Her words are icier than she intends, icier than they should be for someone having a what was apparently a casual fling, so she adds, "It's good timing anyway. I've been busy lately. I've got this new piece I'm working on for The New Yorker that I think can be a game changer for me."
"That's awesome, Ace. I'm really happy for you."
She closes her eyes and sighs, because she knows he really is. "Thanks."
"When are you in town? Let me take you for a drink. We can celebrate…and talk about this whole thing. I want you to know the whole story, but I want to do it in person."
She steels herself for the impending fight. "I don't think that's such a good idea."
"Rory, please. Let me—"
"I've got to run, but congratulations," she adds, her voice cracking on the last word.
She loves him. She never stopped loving him. But she can't do this. She can't be the other woman. Not again.
:::
She misses him like crazy.
It's not until he's gone again that she realizes just how many strings there really were, and just how tangled up they'd gotten. They'd talked almost every day for the last six months. More than her and Lane. More than her and Paris. More than her and her mother. She doesn't know how it happened, but even now she can't bring herself to regret it.
Despite this she spends most of the summer expertly dodging his calls. It gets a little tricky when he somehow finds her other two numbers, but she manages it. Two calls from Colin. Three from Robert. Five from Finn. Plus a string of unanswered text messages and one drunken voicemail that sounds like it's from all four that she still can't quite decipher. Then the cycle starts again. But she's determined to stay away.
That is, until she gets a call from her mother. And her world tilts backwards on its axis.
:::
She's in New York when she hears. Out on a date with Paul of all people. (She's trying to give this a fair shot. Really she is.) They're at a fusion restaurant in Brooklyn with tiny portions and overpriced drinks, and he's telling some story about his family or his coworkers that she can't quite remember even as he tells it. So when her mom calls her she doesn't hesitate to pick up.
She listens to her mom tell the story. Listens to her explain that her grandfather is in the ICU and that he doesn't have much time. The news sinks in and before she even realizes it she's sobbing. Uncontrollably. And all she can think about is the fact that while her grandfather is dying she's sitting here. With Paul. A man who, upon meeting him, her grandfather, pulled her aside and saidErm..he's a nice fellow, but let the boy down easy, Rory.Then he patted her on the back, and went to pour himself another drink.
Even still, Paul is sweet and accommodating in a crisis. He takes her home. He doesn't pry. He sends a beautiful floral arrangement for the wake. She tries not to look for Logan in the crowd, but she's somehow still disappointed when he doesn't show up.
Then again, he never did do anything the way she expected him to.
:::
When she gets to her hotel in London. He's there.
She's tired and out of it, and ready to collapse, but when she rounds the corner, key in hand, there he is. Arms crossed, leaning against the door, looking pretty exhausted himself, but handsome as ever. He looks up and catches her eyes and gives her half a smile. "Hey Ace."
She's in his arms without even realizing it, hugging him so tightly she can barely breathe. But she doesn't care because he smells like scotch and leather and that expensive cologne she only ever associates with him. "Hi," she mumbles into his coat, her tears wetting the fabric.
He hugs her back, kisses the top of her forward, wipes at the tears on her cheeks. "I didn't know if you'd want to see me after the way we left things. But I couldn't stay away."
She just shakes her head, and hugs him tighter. "I'm so happy you're here."
She knows she should be stronger, but right then, she's just not.