Author: Fluffernutter8 PM
Seven messages that could have gotten Logan and Rory back together. Post finale oneshot. Rated for my own paranoia.Rated: Fiction T - English - Rory G. & Logan H. - Words: 2,264 - Reviews: 18 - Favs: 32 - Follows: 12 - Published: 01-08-11 - Status: Complete - id: 6635031
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
"Hey Logan, it's Finn. We haven't heard from you in a few days, which is odd considering we gave you specific instructions on keeping us up to date on the scene of women and bars in your immediate vicinity.
I know it's probably because of the whole Rory thing. Look, mate. I'm going to be serious for once in my life. I know. I wasn't serious when you were possibly dying and I doubt I'll be serious when I lie on my own deathbed and will all my earthly possessions to my twenty-year-old mistress instead of the inevitable number of kids I will have sired over the years. But I'm being serious for you now.
You love this girl. I've been your best friend since the Australian government decided that it didn't want me hanging around and I've never seen you look at a girl the way you look at Rory. Not even Clarisse Fitchberg and we were sure that she was some sort of test tube perfect girl.
She said no. You came to her, balls in hand, ready to do what no one ever in their life thought you would do, and she said no. That has to hurt. It has to suck. You wouldn't be human if it didn't. But when did things not going according to plan stop you two? She didn't even want to look at you back in the day. You still wanted to look at other women. You used to get jumpy if a girl left a sweater in your place and then you asked her to move in.
What I'm saying is that you've survived this far. Maybe you're not right for each other and you'll break up because you won't cancel the Sports Center cable package or because she always leaves her hair in the shower drain, but don't make this about all or nothing. Colin and I looked it up. The political caravan will stop in California three times in the next few months. You'll be flying around on business and you're bound to be in the same city at some point. You two survived not seeing each other for an entire year. I think you can take it again."
"Huntzberger. Paris Geller. I'm calling to talk to you about the one thing we have in common. It appears that you aren't answering your phone, which I can only hope means that you are curled up in the corner in as much pain as the girlfriend you so brutally dumped on her graduation day from Yale. Another acceptable option would be getting drunk in an attempt to forget that you let the best thing that has happened to you leave unattached to go road tripping with a successful, intellectual, handsome senator. Older professionals are very attractive to younger women. Take it from me.
You shock me, Huntzberger. You were just getting to a point where I could stand you, and that was thanks to Gilmore. I thought you knew that. Enough flowers showed up at our door for me to think that you were aware of the importance of having her in your life. She was sure that you had changed, that you were "different" and "better."
I'd like it to be just another time where I get to "I told you so" Gilmore. But it would be like kicking a puppy. She's miserable right now. She says she isn't, but I took Psych 101, 204 and 327. Also, she tends to fall into rants about no cable in the Hicktown Motel and how they nicknamed her "The Princess" within five minutes of her stepping on the bus.
Now, either of us could give several examples of less than princess-like behavior on her part, but that's not the point. The point is that she could really use your help right now, and instead you just walked out on her because it wasn't convenient for you. If Doyle ever did that to me, he'd know to keep his pads on at all times. But Gilmore would be willing to get back together. It's not like you would still be having phone sex when you were eighty. She'll be done by November of next year, maximum.
You've impressed me in the past, blondie. Grudgingly, but you have somehow surpassed my expectation of irresponsible playboy rich kid. Now, though, you've notched yourself right into typical man: "I can develop, but she has to stop when I'm ready." Grow up, Huntzberger. Get over yourself. Man up, take your balls and hand them to her. We both know they're hers anyway.
Now, I'm done getting in touch with my feelings, and Doyle has been shaking the massage oil in my ear for five minutes as if he thinks that talking on the phone makes me blind. But if I don't hear by next week that you've used your massive wealth to surprise her, and that you're not back to being your sickeningly adorable, nicknamed and bantering selves, I'm warning you now: I have two weeks until med school, a stash of frequent flier miles and more tenacity than a Springsteen fan. Also your new address."
"Logan, it's Honor. Just wanted to call to let you know that I got back to New York okay, and that I'm glad that I got to help my little brother move in. The one time I saw your place in London, it was like walking into a page of Bachelor Pad Quarterly. You definitely need a woman's touch.
Speaking of the women in your life, Mom knows that you've been dodging her calls, and she is calling me every hour as a result. Now, I'm aware that I can also dodge the calls, but I have begun to take responsibility. So I will now be responsible and give you her messages: 'Call me back, Logan. I have ten new girls who are far more suitable for you than that horrible-'
Okay, I sacrificed responsibility for sisterly kindness. And as your sister, I have to warn you that the Great Logan Setup, Part VI is being implemented as we speak. Further as your sister, I have to tell you that you're an idiot for breaking up with Rory. And not because it's making the Witch of Huntzberger Manor happy. Mostly because it's making you miserable.
You've never in your life been where you are now. Alone, without your posse, not working off of Daddy's reputation. And that's scary, but you thought you could do it if you had Rory with you. And now you don't have her, and it's freaking you out, but it's mostly your fault that you don't have her. You couldn't and shouldn't have tried to force her to come, but you could have had her to call at the end of the day. Now you have nothing.
I understand why you did it. You felt it was time for the next step, and she didn't, clearly you're not on the same page and shouldn't be together. But that's bull, Logan! Relationships take work and communication. Did you even ask her if she wanted to get married before you proposed in front of two hundred of her grandmother's closest friends?
Sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you. But it's just...I think I'm pregnant. Yeah, you're going to be an uncle. But I want my kid to know that guy you were a few months ago, not the robot I just saw. Not that guy who's been in California for six weeks and had barely unpacked before I got there. I need a brother who smiles, Logan, please.
So call Rory. Maybe it'll just end up with more hurt, but you need some kind of closure. Talk to her. Or I'm telling Shira that you're desperate for a date and she should set you up right away."
"...And I ate celery the other day, Logan! Celery! Something green passed my lips that was not of the Swedish fish variety. And I liked it. I ate all of it off the tray and then went out to buy more. I'm going to have to buy a separate bus for me and my celery stash. What the hell?
God, I sound crazy. Or drunk. But I promise, I'm not drinking. Well, except for water. And milk, every day. But no fetal alcoholism here. Not even a prenatal coffee addiction, I-
Damn, I didn't mean to say that. I wanted to leave a nice breezy message like, 'Hey, I'll be on the west coast soon, maybe we can get together' and then I would tell you in person. But I've been leaving messages for an hour- if your answering machine sounds tired, it's because of the sixteen messages I've left and erased. Do you still have Rex as your answering machine? I can't tell- so I'm just going to lay it out.
Logan, I'm pregnant. It's too late for me to have an abortion, and even if I could, I wouldn't. I've told Hugo that I'm coming off the road after the primary, no matter what the outcome. It will make the transition easier for the readers and for the new writer. Luckily I've had enough time to make a good impression, and Hugo offered me a job. It's in New York and doesn't pay all that much, but it's permanent, so that's good...
Look, I'm not asking you for money or anything, but I wanted you to know. We both understand what it's like to grow up without a father around a lot, and I don't want that to happen to our...to our child.
So I just wanted you to know. Please call me back; my number hasn't changed.
I miss you.
I really hope this is Rex. I don't know if I feel comfortable spilling my secrets to a strange, California answering machine."
"Mr. Huntzberger, this is Marissa Gray from Los Angeles General Hospital. We have you listed as a secondary emergency contact for a Rory Gilmore. We have her in our emergency room, and we have been unable to reach her primary contact, a Ms. Lorelai Gilmore. Please call us back within the hour to confirm that you will be coming down to be appraised of the particulars."
"Logan, it's Lorelai. But I guess you knew that. I've been told I should do commercials, a distinctive voice like mine.
Also, people tend to remember the women they wanted as their mothers-in-law.
I've never really liked you. I'm sure that the bushes are glad I didn't beat around them on that one. But you changed Rory. You had her not going to her classes, jumping off buildings, dating casually, crying on the bathroom floor. You two had phone sex! My daughter, who called Sex and the City "That show with Sarah Jessica Parker" until she was thirteen, was dirty texting you.
I think I was jealous of you. I'm her mother, her best friend, and I've never been able to make her grow in that way. And I'm afraid that I made her grow in the wrong way.
From the day she saw Christiane Amanpour, I decided that I would get that dream for her if it took everything. But now that the time is here, I didn't think that maybe she had changed her dream and didn't want to tell me because I had given up everything for it.
Sorry. God, I'm sorry. You really don't want some hysterical woman crying on your answering machine. I'm smiling now, can you tell? You're supposed to be able to hear when someone's smiling on the phone. And so I can tell that Rory's not happy. She makes her voice happy, but apparently she doesn't listen to the all-knowing "them" because she's not smiling and I can hear.
But I can remember just a few months ago when she was smiling every time I talked to her. You were willing to put up with me for the rest of your life. You loved her that much. So if you could just call her. She's on the road so much. She'll take the call. And I know she'd love to talk to you.
If it takes you coming back into her life to make her happy, I really hope to see you again, Logan."
"Hi Logan. It's Rory. Rory Gilmore. I really hope you remember me. I mean, I assume you do, it hasn't been that long. Anyway, Senator Obama is coming to California next week and since I'm following him, I'm coming too. So I was hoping that we could meet up while I'm there. Just call me back and we'll decide when and where.
I really hope to see you, Logan. I lo- Bye."