Rory was sure she would never see him again-least of all, in Hamburg.

She was just finishing up a story in town and about to hail a cab for the train station when she heard his voice ring out.

"Ace!"

In the months following their break up, she'd spent many moments on the press bus thinking about this moment. What she'd say, how he'd react, where they'd be, the many fumbling apologies between them and most of all, how'd she tell him she didn't regret her decision, but did regret losing him. After awhile, the excitement of the campaign and the four years that followed in the White House Press Corps took over and there wasn't much time to think about anything or anyone else, much less the man whose proposal she rejected.

Over the years, she kept track of him. Logan and his company survived the economic downturn in 2008; he even co-founded another start-up-a successful dating website for those with proclivities for extreme adventure outings, a throw back to his Life and Death Brigade days-and sold it for an impressive sum. Although it took some time, he eventually returned to the Huntzberger fold. He'd done well for himself; seeing him in front of her in his sharp suit and impeccably tailored coat reminded her of that.

Once her shock subsided, she managed to get out a meager hello and then, "Of all the city sidewalks in the world, you gotta walk on this one in Hamburg?" to which he laughed and she in turn, melted a bit. She'd had romances over the years, but never one quite like theirs.

"I wasn't sure it was you-I mean, I don't think I saw you in red very much, but this , it's a good look. Although what really caught my attention was why, when it is two degrees Celsius, you aren't wearing a coat."

"Can't cover this up. It's my lucky outfit, actually." Rory realizes she is blushing when she says this, because it sounds sort of ridiculous.

"I can see why. You look very professional. And charming. And smart. And...just like I remember you."

She wants to remark that he looks even better than she remembers, but instead, "Yeah, you too."

They stand there for awhile on the sidewalk, both freezing, exchanging pleasantries. Eventually, he tells her he's in town for business, just for the day. He lives in London now, so he'll catch a flight home in a little while. It's as good of a first-time-speaking-in-eight-years-conversation as she could have expected. Nothing too deep, but also, she senses the tension on the surface. The old feelings springing from a deep well and reemerging in a way she didn't expect. Eight years later, she didn't think it was possible she could feel this way about Logan Huntzberger again. And certainly not within just a few minutes.

She realizes they've been standing on the street for a while and looks at her watch. She's missed her train. It was the last one leaving for her final destination today.

Logan picks up on this. "Oh, shit. You were heading somewhere. I'm sorry. I just saw you there and I knew...I knew I had to talk you."

She smiles; she can't help it. "I'm glad you did, but now I will have to figure out another way to get to Cologne."

Logan returns her smile, "Well, I can help you with that. My flight tonight...it's a private one. I can have them make a little detour. That is, if you can wait an hour while I have this meeting. What do you think?"

She thinks this could be a bad idea, but before she knows it, "Okay."

His smile grows, ear to ear.

Rory wakes up in an unfamiliar bed.

This in itself is not unfamiliar. She spends 300 days a year on the road and is lucky if she is in the same bed for more than two consecutive nights. But this time, she doesn't wake to an empty space beside her. Logan is already up, looking at her.

"Good morning, Ace."

"Logan," she sighs, "hi."

They kiss and it wakes up her instantly. She recalls last night. The flight. The conversation. The kissing. Logan suggesting that they catch up some more over drinks in Cologne. Rory suggesting they just find a hotel room instead.

She wasn't entirely sure what would happen if she ever saw him again, but she expects that this would have always happened, no matter the circumstances.

They spend the morning in bed, order room service, catch up on eight years of missing one another. Her meeting is not until 3 o'clock, so there's time.

But then, his phone rings. It's work. He puts on his Logan-the-businessman voice and suddenly, she awakes from this reverie.

By the time he's off the phone, she's dressed and collecting her things.

"Ace, what are you doing? It's not even 11."

"We shouldn't have done this."

"Why not?" he asks, his expression suddenly serious.

"Because...because things are still the same as they were eight years ago."

"What? That you still don't want to be tied to one person, one place? Yes, that true."

"Logan, that's not fair."

"No, it isn't. But it's the truth."

She can't argue with him. She doesn't feel guilty about her decision. The last eight years of great adventures and stories and growth have shown her that.

For awhile, neither says anything. Slowly, the space between them closes. Logan takes her hands in his, "I never stopped loving you. I know that seems far fetched. But I mean it. I never stopped wishing I could go back and tell you. All or nothing... all would have been trusting that we would make it work. All would have been just letting us both figure out some things first. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I made you choose. We were young and we loved each other and we were great together. But now, I can see that it was the right choice for you. For both of us, really."

She breathes out as if she's been holding her breath for eight years. "I didn't know that it would feel like this. I didn't know it could still feel like this with you. Like home."

He draws her closer into an embrace, laughs a bit. He's so warm and strong; it makes her feel strong, too.

"So, what now?" she says, her head resting on his shoulder.

He pulls back, cups her face in his hands and plants a small kiss. "Don't do the math. We've still got time."

Six months and four trips to London later, Rory learns about Odette.

They never really talked about what would happen after those sixteen hours in Cologne. She went to her meeting and that night, hopped on a plane back to New York. They agreed to see each other again soon-when her most recent assignment was over and his start-of-fiscal-year responsibilities were through. In the meantime, they vowto keep communication to a minimum.

But that doesn't happen. First, it is emails-platonic exchanges about the news and ongoings. Then, texts at all hours. About all things. Things that make Rory laugh when she remembers who taught her how talk about such things (the many lessons Paris Geller has sneaked in over the years).

Most of the trips last no more than 48 hours, typically between their respective job responsibilities. They spend almost all of their time in his flat and the occasional dinner out. Once, they caught a play on the West End, but who has time for that when you only have two days together.

It's on the fourth visit that she decides to tell him about Paul. Paul-whom she has seen even less of in these past few months than she has of Logan. Paul-who at first was a reliable, safe option. Now, a weight to remind her that she and Logan cannot go on like this forever.

"So, he's your boyfriend? I dunno, Ace. It kind of sounds like he's just some poor guy you're jerking around."

They're in bed, facing one another. She buries her head in his chest. "I know. I'm horrible. I'm the worst. It's just that I never really remember about him until I'm in New York and then, I'm only there for a day or two and it's-"

"Simple."

"Yes, exactly."

She feels Logan tense up. His heart begins beating faster and she knows. She knows something is coming.

"Well, if we're being honest. I have to tell you-"

"You're seeing other people, too. I get it. We never talked about what this is."

Before she can say anything else, Logan says it, "I'm engaged."

The shock hits her and she bolts upright and out of the bed. She feels like her eyes are burning with tears, and realizes instantly what this means.

"How long?"

He looks at her with guilty eyes.

"We got engaged the week before I saw you in Hamburg."

"You can't be serious."

"I wanted to tell you. The drinks in Cologne? That's what that was supposed to be. But then, you, the hotel…"

"Don't put this on me. What about the past six months?"

"You're the one who just told me about Paul! Don't try to pretend I'm the only one being less than upstanding here."

"Yes, but you're engaged. She's not, not...how did you put it? Simple?"

Logan looks down at his hands. "No. It's not simple."

Rory paces around the apartment. She can't be here right now. Her flight isn't for another 12 hours, but she can't stay in this room any more. She quickly dresses and grabs her bag, not caring what is left behind.

She feels the tears coming and starts brushing them away. She's almost to the door when she feels Logan's hand on her shoulder.

"Ace, I'm sorry. It's been in the works for awhile. If I'd known you'd show up in my life again, I never would have asked her."

She cries now. Openly. She studies his face, knows everything about it, and sees-he's barely keeping it together.

"Well, what now? When do you get married?"

"We haven't decided. I...I've been holding off."

She knows what he's trying to say. But, she isn't sure that she's ready for whatever it is Logan wants from her. He is right. Nothing has changed. So, instead of saying Don't marry her, Rory replies, "Well, stop holding off. We should end things here. It's been fun. And I'm grateful. But it's...we should go back to the way things were. Goodbye, Logan."

She gives him a kiss on his cheek, and walks out the door. Halfway down the hall, she pauses for a moment, thinks that she should turn around and say Fuck it, I don't care and continue carrying on the way they have been. But instead, she walks towards the elevator bank, certain she'll never see Logan Huntzberger again.

Then, Richard Gilmore dies.

She didn't know it was possible for grief to halt life like this. His passing-quick, fairly painless. Her grief is the opposite. He dies on a Tuesday. She's there with her mother and grandmother when it happens. All three Gilmore women try to hold it together as he takes his last breaths. Her mother-completely silent, tears streaming, arms crossed around her body. Her grandmother, yelling for the nurses to Do something, damn it . Rory can only look at him and smile sadly, holding onto his hand, saying It's okay, Grandpa. It's okay.

At that moment, she feels more love between them all then she has in all the years since their reunion sixteen years ago.

After his body is taken away and her grandmother and mother leave to take care of the funeral arrangements, Rory returns to her grandparents house to rest. It is there, sitting in her grandfather's office, that she calls him. He picks up almost instantly.

"Ace."

"Logan, I'm sorry, it's just...my grandfather. He died." She cries. And cries. There's nothing else she can manage to get out besides those words and her tears.

This goes on for long enough that by the time she's finally collected herself, she isn't even sure he's still on the other end. But he is. "I'm so sorry. Your grandfather was a great man. And he loved you very much. What can I do? What do you need?"

She can't believe she's saying it. "Come to Hartford. Please. Mom's a mess, but trying to hide it, and my grandma, well, she is being Emily Gilmore. I need you."

There's a short silence. Then, "Okay, Ace. I'm on the next plane."

He doesn't go with her to the funeral-it would raise too many questions. But as he was when Richard had his heart attack years ago, Logan is her rock. He helps her with errands for the services, making calls, arranging things that Emily shockingly overlooked. He proofs the obituary Rory writes for Richard Gilmore. Logan calls in a favor and the tribute to her grandfather appears in The New York Times.

Logan stays in a hotel nearby and she retreats there at night, under the guise of needing to meet a deadline. It is in his arms that she lets herself cry and talk and mourn. When the funeral services are over, she meets him at the airport, and they fly to London together. It's a bold move, she realizes, but she doesn't care any more. She doesn't care about Odette or Paul or anything else right now. Only him.

On the plane, they sit side by side. Logan never lets go of her hand.

Fifteen months later, she is on the bathroom floor of her childhood home. As she watches the two pink lines appear, Rory thinks back to that plane ride and wishes she could have exactly that feeling-steady, calm, comfort-and him, right here, right now.

They're sitting on the steps of the gazebo and she hears the joy in her mother's voice, much deserved after a year of grieving and many false starts throughout the years. Lorelai takes a sip from her champagne flute and even though Rory knows this is terrible timing, the words tumble forward.

"Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm pregnant."

Lorelai looks at her in a way she hasn't since Rory was in her 20s. In shock over the words, but with anger in recognition of what they mean.

"You're pregnant?"

"Yes."

Lorelai takes a big swig from the flute, finishing it off. She inches closer to Rory and her expression softens.

"Wow. Wow! You really know how to steal someone's thunder. How did this happen? No, wait, who?"

She debates telling her, but knows there's no point to hold back.

"Logan."

"Oh." Lorelai refills her glass and takes another long swig.

"He was here a few weeks ago. That night Kirk thought he saw people dancing across the rooftops."

" Oh. "

"Mom, say something. Please. Other than oh."

Lorelai reaches across her daughter to steal her untouched bottle of champagne. Rory stops her.

"You can't be drunk at your wedding. Grandma will kill you."

"Well, Grandma is going to kill you when you tell her about this."

"I am not going to say anything until I decide what to do."

All Lorelai can say, her mother who is never bereft of words, is "Oh."

"I should've waited until tomorrow to tell you, but we always promised we'd tell each other everything."

"I know," Lorelai looks like she's going to cry. "But Rory, a baby? "

"I'll figure it out. Like you did."

Lorelai reaches for Rory's hand. "Damn it, kid. This isn't how I hoped it would happen for you."

"Me either."

They look out onto the square. Stars Hollow is awake. Everyone is as they were yesterday, but today, Lorelai is a wife and Rory may become a mother. It's almost too much.

"Logan...does he know?"

"No. He's getting married. This would wreck that."

"Well, you both wrecked each other for anyone else a long time ago. Don't you think?"

The (second) wedding is perfect. Emily arrives from Nantucket and shockingly, only makes Lorelai roll her eyes in protest once or twice. All of Stars Hollow comes out for the celebration and it rivals any festival that's ever been thrown. There are spirited suggestions that it should be added to the rotation of town celebrations, to which Luke loudly and repeatedly protests, "No!"

That night, Rory gets a room at the Dragonfly to give her mom and Luke privacy at home. It's late when she walks in, the night manager-a 25-year-old Michel finally agreed to hire a week ago-is at the desk. "Miss Gilmore-"

"Sam, call me Rory. It's fine. Miss Gilmore makes me feel like I'm aging faster than Mick Jagger without botox."

"Rory," Sam corrects herself, "I got your guest set up in your room. He arrived about an hour ago."

She thinks Paul? But that doesn't make sense. He broke up with her this morning. Maybe he changed his mind.

Rory makes her way up the stairs. When she opens the door and sees him there, Rory realizes that deep down, she was hoping it would be him.

"I should've called. I shouldn't have come here without telling you. Odette...I left her. We're done."

Rory, stunned, stands in silence. Here he is. Another grand gesture.

All she can manage is, "Finally."

She's still in the doorway and Logan, who had been standing in the middle of the room, moves to meet her. Her arms are crossed over her stomach, almost reflexively. She didn't know she'd have this chance. And Rory, Rory-who is usually so prepared, methodical-is unclear about her next move.

But then, Logan says something that forces her to decide. "I love you, Ace. I'm not walking away this time." His eyes are hopeful, pleading. "Don't let me walk away this time."

She uncrosses her arms and exhales, takes his hands in hers. She looks up at him, a smile creeping into the corners of his eyes.

"Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm pregnant."

Fin.