It's a warp!

It feels to me like this is a fitting ending. I'm both excited and sad to see these characters complete their journey. I really love these characters. I hope you did too.

This story first chapter started as a backstory for another idea I am/was working on. As I was writing, I found myself wondering why can't this be a story line of its own? From there the pieces fell into the right places.
Feel free to leave your comments if you feel like, they are always welcome.


Part 10

Rory holds her left hand wrist tightly, constantly rubbing the inked compass with her thumb. She's not even aware she's doing it until Mitchum Hunzberger push a glass of water into her hand.

"Drink." She obeys.

"Good girl." He squeezes her shoulder and smiles at her apologetically, "Logan's on his way. He refused the jet out of principle. I'm going to referee between your grandmother and Shira."

Rory looked around the mansion, everything was set for the reception after the ceremony.

Shira Huntzberger has done a good job arranging an Emily Gilmore certificated event. She has done a better job than Lorelai or Rory herself could ever do.

But of course the Gilmore matriarch, who locked herself in the bedroom for the past two days, was less than impressed.

Her mother hid in her bedroom too. Luke said they'll meet them there.

In her heart, she cursed Logan's principles. Rory Gilmore promised herself she shall not cry.
Her eyes are dry anyways. She didn't sleep a wink.

Honor put eye-drops in her blue eyes to make them looks presentable.

"You have such stunning eyes." The blonde woman squeezes her hands and offers her fashionable sunglasses.

Rory refuse. She will not shy away from this.

She nods at Christopher Hayden arriving with the flock of men and women. She wanted nothing to do with him today.

In the corner of her eye, she spies Mitchum's subtle beeline to him.

She thanks her lucky stars for that man. Or maybe she should thank her grandfather.

She sniffs. Rory Gilmore is determined not cry.

She gives her eulogy. Her own voice sounds foreign.

Her mother's eyes are a well of constant tears.

Her grandmother is practicing perfect society widow stance, face shell-shocked.

Instead of her grandfather's blue eyes she looks into Logan's warm brown eyes.

From the moment Logan sets his feet in Connecticut he's her shadow. His presence always a step or two behind her. His hand lingers at the small of her back or her shoulder.

This day is such a blur. She can only focus on his stubble, his respectable suit. She doesn't know how he managed to retrieve one so soon after landing. Probably Honor.

"I need a minute alone."

Everyone pretty much cleared out, following the next order of business. Logan who still stand behind her near the fresh grave nods. He squeezes her shoulder offering his comfort and slowly steps away.


Father and son stand side by side both worriedly looking at the lone woman dressed in all back.

Mitchum takes a stride towards her, but a firm hold on his arms stops him.

"Not yet." The younger man he fathered says firmly. "I'll go, but not yet."

"She keeps scratching her wrist."

"I've noticed." Logan confirms.

"She's not speaking to her mother." Michum sounds beyond concerned.

Logan nods. "I take comfort in knowing the woman hates you more than she hates me."

"She didn't cry." His father stresses.

"Sometimes it just takes time." Logan says softly to his estranged father. "You should go to the Gilmore's. I've got it from here."

Mitchum looks reluctant, but Logan looks determined.

"I'll see you at the house." The older man finally caves and they both step in opposite direction.

Mitchum Huntzberger watch from a distance as his son's hand gently pry Rory Gilmore's left wrist free.
Next, she collapse sobbing into his arms.


Logan finds Mitchum Huntzberger washing the dishes in Emily Gilmore kitchen.

His dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. The maids just stand there astonished. For a moment, so does Logan.

"Dad."

The older man turns, his hands wet with soap water. "How's she?"

The reception is dying out in the other rooms. He is surprised to find his mother bossing the catering.

"Resting." Logan offers him a towel. "They have staff to do this."

"Rory says keeping busy is the best way to make time pass." Mitchum brush his dry hands on his suit pants, "How was Botswana?"

Logan nods.

"I met with an Israeli expert there. They can use infra-red satellite imagine to know if the fields are in water stress. This is really the coolest things I've seen."

He doesn't know what compelled him to share this with his father. Maybe because it's something Rory would want him to do.

"I don't know much about that." His father response is even more surprising. "I'll look into it."

Logan tucks his hands into his pockets.

"I… Thank you for looking out for her."

"Rory and I have an understanding." Mitchum states simply.

There's so much Logan still has to process about his father's relationship with Rory Gilmore.

"Dad…" Logan runs his hand through his hair, contemplating his next words. Their eyes meet for s brief second. "I really need to you take a step back so I can make her my Rory."

"You don't need me to take a step back to in order to make her 'your Rory'. You need to make yourself take a step forward."

His father words somehow sound like advice and a metaphor at the same time.

"She made her mind up a long time ago."

Their tremulous relationship, past words, expectations and love for that woman hangs between them.

"I'm not giving Planète up." Logan masters his best determined expression.

"Understandably." Mitchum says easily, "When you're ready, Logan."

Logan looks at Mitchum suspiciously. They're both aware of the significance of this conversation.

"I don't think I'll ever be ready."

"I can accept that as well." Mitchum looks at his son sincerely.

Logan feels the rest of the air in his lungs sucked away. The words streaming out of his mouth is on one hand all he ever wanted to hear, on the other he can't bring himself to trust him.

Maybe it's a baby steps kind of thing.

"I…. I.. thanks for the book."

Micthum nods, "You're welcome."


"Chache!" small hands thumped excitedly on the large glass window. "Chache!"

Rory balanced the wiggling boy in her arms, laughing at his excitement. The two men in the meeting room looked up.

'Chache'. The nickname sprung when Alex blabbering started to make sense. Shira was really trying too hard to teach him Michum's name.

Mitchum first frowned upon the unflattering meaning, although god knows Logan called him worst names.

Logan, on the other hand, thought it was hilarious. "I'm gonna make sure that one sticks."

Lorelai followed his lead with unconstrained glee.

In the end Mitchum mellowed. The nickname stayed.


Rory Gilmore watch the tension on younger man's face vanish at the sight of his carbon copy barging into the room. They are thick as thieves.

Logan was still reluctant to engage on the day to day activity in HPG, but she was surprise to learn one day he wasn't shy to dip his feet in envisioning the future. Making strategy meetings, like this one, a reoccurring event.

The older man's face beamed as the blonde ball of energy threw himself at his legs demanding to be picked up. His little hands enthusiastically looking inside his jacket's inner pocket for candy.

"Toffee!" Alex exclaims excitedly.

"Seriously dad, you're gonna ruin his teeth." she hears Logan scowl at Mitchum.


"He's testing my limits that husband of yours." Mitchum relayed to her "But heck, he's talented."

To this day, Logan is partially skeptic and partially bothered with 'the understanding' she has with his father. "What does that even mean?"

"It's means we conspire behind your back." She taunts him, "It's none of your business, Logan."

She knows it ruffles his feathers.


Alex, a third generation of nearly identical Huntzberger males, adores his paternal grandfather.

Its another thing Logan can't quite warp his head around.

"Sometimes I think he likes him better than he likes me." he scowls, carefully eyeing the three years old boy shadowing phone-pacing Mitchum in the patio imitating his movements.

A calculator pressed to his ear. The comics section tacked under his arm.

Rory looks at him amused, "You pace the same way when you talk on the phone."

Logan shoots her a dirty look. His competitiveness shining.

"Funny, Shadow. I'm making sure the next one likes me better."

Rory rolls her eyes at him.


She finds Logan sitting against the wall outside Alex's bedroom.

Half guarding, half spying. His legs pulled up, head resting back, eyes closed.

Rory Gilmore peeks at the suited man who sits at the edge of her son's bed. Animatedly reading 'Where the Wild Things Are':

"Oh, please don't go—we'll eat you up—we love you so!"

He really is great as Wild Things.

"That's Mitchum Hunztberger, knowing that man can change your life." Her late-grandfather voice reminisces in her head.

She looks at Logan who smiles faintly. His eyes glossed.

Looking back, it never seizes to amaze her how insightful Richard Gilmore was.

She prides herself for changing his too.