Chapter 1: Throw Me in the Deep End

Hey guys, here is an alternate take on post-AYITL that's been taking up my head space. Don't worry, I'm planning on working on both this and Life After Coffee. Let me know what you think (Lyrics from Halsey's 'Coming Down') - Allie

"Ready to go?" Lorelai appeared in the doorway to Rory's room.

"I think so," Rory swung a black duffel bag over her shoulder.

"Ha. Where's the rest of it?" Lorelai scanned the floor for more luggage.

"This is it. I'm packing light. Only the necessities." Rory replied, patting the medium sized bag.

"There is no way you fit all your stuff into that tiny thing." Lorelai said. She picked up Rory's hairdryer from her dresser. "What about this?"

"The hotel has one."

"What if it's out of order?"

"An out of order hair dryer?" Rory put her hands on her hips.

"You wouldn't expect it to be, which is exactly why you should bring an extra." She held the device out towards her daughter.

"In the unlikely event that the hypothetically out of order hair dryer can't be fixed, I'm sure I can manage." Rory grabbed her itinerary and passport off the bed.

"You say that now, but when you're all drippy and frizzy, you'll think to yourself, 'Gee, I wish I had listened to my mother and brought that backup hairdryer'," Lorelai warned.

"False. I would never use the word 'gee' in an inner monologue," She said, stepping out into the kitchen. "We need to get going or I'm going to miss my flight." Rory started towards the door.

"Late? Your plane doesn't leave for over 2 hours!" Lorelai replied, pulling on her boots reluctantly.

"Which is exactly enough time for you to get me to the airport, get through TSA and enjoy a Cinnabon." Rory replied with a smile as they exited and got in the Jeep.

"Are you sure you should be going?" Lorelai said, coercing the vehicle's engine to turn over.

"Yes, for the last time. I'm nowhere near the cutoff for flying." Rory huffed.

"That's not what I meant." Lorelai said, merging onto the highway.

"I know what you meant." Rory snapped.

"Hey, I'm just saying it's not too late to cancel this trip."

"You know I can't do that. It was hard enough to find a publisher willing to take on my book, let alone one that wasn't owned by...them." Rory looked out the window, watching Stars Hollow shrink into the distance.

"I get it. I just don't understand why you have to fly all the way to London just to meet with these people. Have they never heard of Skype? What kind of backwater publisher did you find anyway?" Lorelai rambled.

"Mom, this is a good thing. They want to start developing a promotional strategy for the book and I'll be meeting with the people that are going to make that happen." Rory explained. "They're really excited about me coming out. And the fact that they're paying for everything isn't too shabby, either." She reminded her.

"What if you run into him?" Lorelai put on her blinker as they neared the exit for the airport.

"London isn't Stars Hollow. It's a big city, and I'm only there for a few days. There's like a one in a million chance of us seeing each other. I'll take those odds." Rory checked her boarding pass again.

"You don't have the best luck, kid." Lorelai mused.

"Hmph."

"Seriously, though. What happened to 'telling him after 12 weeks'?" Lorelai asked, giving Rory the side-eye.

"I've been busy." Rory deflected. She hadn't quite gotten around to telling Logan Huntzberger that she was pregnant with his kid yet, and she was quickly running out of excuses to keep putting it off. First it was that she was just overwhelmed (which had been completely true at the time). Then it was she wanted to wait until after the first trimester had passed ("Why go through all that if something ends up happening?"). Rory was just over 16 weeks pregnant now, and so far her pregnancy had been completely textbook. Morning sickness had subsided a few weeks ago, her energy was returning and she was feeling really good. Her bump was growing more noticeable each week, but the crisp February weather afforded her the luxury of bulky sweaters and heavy winter coats to hide the changes that were taking place with her body.

Lorelai pulled up to the curb underneath the "Departures" sign and put the Jeep in park.

"You're sure?" She asked again. "Because I can turn this rig around and we can spend the rest of today in our Pjs watching Breakfast at Tiffany's."

Rory reached out and embraced Lorelai. "I'm sure. I'll call you when I get in." She planted a kiss on her mother's cheek.

Lorelai smiled and hugged her daughter back. "Okay, kid. Make sure your mom doesn't get into any trouble." She winked towards Rory's belly. Rory rolled her eyes.

"Bye, mom." Rory stepped out, duffel bag swung over one shoulder and laptop bag resting across her body diagonally, she made her way to the security line.

"...and when I asked him if he'd just switch me seats he glared at me." Rory pressed the phone to her ear as she made her way through the crowded Heathrow airport. "Who glares at a pregnant woman?"

Lorelai said something on the other end of the line.

"No, I played it up. Did the whole hand on the belly thing. The pair of elderly women in the row across from us gave him the evil eye and he finally gave in." She emerged onto the sidewalk. Taxis and cars lined the walkway, waiting for their passengers.

"Exactly! If you're going to mutter under your breath about me getting up every twenty minutes to pee, then at least let me take the aisle seat." Rory scanned the lineup of vehicles. Her publisher, Arbor Publications, told her they would send her a car to take her to her hotel.

"Okay mom, gotta go. I think I see my ride," she made a beeline towards a driver holding a sign with her name on it. "Love you, too. Yes. No. See you next week." She disconnected the line.

"Hi, I'm Rory Gilmore. I think you're here for me?" She smiled, taking in the expensive-looking town car idling in front of her.

"Ah, very good Ms. Gilmore. I trust that your flight was pleasant?"

"Very good," she lied. "Thank you."

"May I take your luggage?" The driver held out his hands, but Rory declined. Nodding, he helped her into the town car and sped off towards downtown London.

"Are you sure?" Rory unrolled the window and peered up at the grand facade of the Strand Palace hotel.

"My instructions were to drop you here, miss." The driver opened the door and she stepped out, still in awe. She had been expecting the British equivalent of a Marriott. This hotel looked fit for the queen herself to stay in.

She shrugged. "If you say so."

Check in went smoothly, and before she knew it Rory was turning the handle to a suite on the tenth floor. She dropped her bags at the door and inspected the spacious room. King sized bed, separate sitting area, mini-kitchen. She flicked on the light to the bathroom and her jaw dropped. A sizable hot tub was situated in the far corner just past the double sinks set in marble. To her left was the biggest shower she had ever seen, equipped with more shower heads than it had any business having.

"This has to be some kind of mistake," she mumbled out loud. The publishing company had set everything up for her and clearly whoever had booked everything had mixed her up with another author. Some one who's book actually had an ISBN. 'Gilmore Girls' was still a pretty rough draft and going through rounds of edits and re-writes. It didn't even have a solid release date yet, and here she was being treated like the second coming of JK Rowling.

"Well, kid, mom always told me not to look a gift horse in the mouth." Rory patted her bump and opened up the menu to order room service.

After placing her order, Rory pulled back the tapestry-style curtains covering the window and peered out at the bustling city before her. She sighed, remembering the last time she had visited London. She had ridden around in nice cars and stayed at a fancy hotel then, too, courtesy of the Huntzberger empire.

This time is different, she told herself firmly. Rory had shopped her manuscript around to over a dozen publishers, actively avoiding anything even tangentially linked to Huntzberger Publishing. Half of them hadn't bothered to even reply. Four sent politely worded rejection letters. Of the three that agreed to meetings, one offered to pick up the book if she reworked it into a drug-store romance novel. The second wasn't actually interested in her book, but instead offered her an editing job, which she was considering until meeting number three. Arbor Books, a medium sized publishing group based in London, had cautiously offered her a modest book deal almost two months ago. She received a small stipend up front, but the contract stipulated most of her payment would be dependent on sales. It wasn't a perfect deal, but as a first-time author with relatively little experience, Rory jumped on it. The point was, after all, that she had done it all by herself with no help from Logan, or Mitchum Huntzberger or even Jess. This was as much about proving that she was capable of being successful and independent as it was about finding a lucrative avenue for her writing.

The first draft of 'Gilmore Girls' had been passed back and forth between her and her team of editors at Arbor until a workable version materialized. Now that they had a firm manuscript, the publisher flew her to their head office for a series of meetings that would go over their PR strategy as well as introduce her to some of the people who would help her through the rest of the publishing process. Usually, Rory communicated with a small team via email or Skype, but Arbor had insisted she make the trek across the pond at least once before her travel was restricted.

So, when Rory found herself being carted around town in a swanky ride, only to be dropped off at the nicest hotel she had ever stepped foot in, she was a little perplexed.

She grabbed her coat and stepped out onto the balcony adjacent to her room. It was chilly, each breath turning to frost before her eyes. Gripping the railing, she drank in the city lights and sounds. There was something special about this city. Rory closed her eyes and let the crisp air fill her lungs.

Just a few stories below, Logan Huntzberger stumbled out of a bar and into a taxi, a leggy blond in tow. She giggled as he pulled her onto his lap in the backseat. He quickly slurred an address to the driver and turned his attention back to his companion, planting kisses down the back of her neck.

She let out a small moan. The taxi driver's eyes flicked up to the rear view mirror for a moment, then focused doubly hard on the road. Logan laughed and moved his hand slightly higher up on her thigh. She uttered something in another language.

"I hope that translates to 'don't stop'," he smirked, breathing into her ear.

"Da." she replied.

Every single night pray the sun will rise
Every single time make a compromise
Every single night pray the sun will rise, but

It's coming down, down, I'm coming down
It's coming down, down, I'm coming down