Disclaimer: I dont' own Gilmore Girls
Chapter 6 – How It's Going to Be
Rory woke early after spending the night tossing and turning. She didn't get more than two hours of sleep at a time before jolting awake from a vague feeling that she was falling. Each time she would drift back into a lighter sleep until 6:30 when she knew she wouldn't fall back asleep at all. Logan's night had been similar due both to his worry and his proximity to Rory as she tossed and turned.
She glanced up and noticed his eyes were open as well. "Hey," she said softly, her voice thick with exhaustion.
He kissed her temple and brushed her hair of her face. "How you feeling?" He asked.
She moved her shoulder up a bit. "Ok, I guess. Tired. Anxious."
"How about we go get some coffee?" he suggested.
She gave him a small smile and nodded. "Breakfast, too," she said before slowly beginning to move, reluctant to remove herself from the relative safety of his arms.
After getting dressed, the two exited Logan's dorm room and walked, hand in hand, to a small on-campus diner that Rory often frequented for breakfast. It was only after they sat down and ordered and she had a cup of coffee in front of her that she brought herself to pull out her cell phone and turn it on. She sighed and bit her lip when she saw that she had five new voice mails.
Logan looked at her questioningly. "Message?"
"Five," she responded, her voice low. "I should check them."
He nodded, knowing there was no point in arguing, although he wished she would eat breakfast first.
She pressed a few buttons and held the phone tentatively to her ear, chewing her bottom lip nervously. The first new message was another from Mark, telling her that he was going to send Lorelai home in a cab and that she shouldn't worry. The next one made her take in a sharp breath before she even heard the content of the message. Her father never called her.
"Rory," he began urgently, "I'm at the hospital. Your mother fell getting out of her fucking cab and hit her head on the curb. She has a concussion. How the hell did you let this happen? Call me back immediately."
Her eyes filled with tears as the next message started. It was her father again. His voice was even more irritated in this message, and it continued to become more so for the following two messages. In the final one, he informed her that he had taken Lorelai home from the hospital. He made it very clear that she was expected to come home and help take care of her mother.
She pushed the off button, blinking slowly, hoping to quell her tears. "She had to go to the hospital," She said monotonously, "She fell getting out of her cab. Damn it. I knew I should have gone."
"Is she ok?" he asked.
"She has a concussion," Rory said shortly, her voice still detached. "I have to get home." She refused to look at him.
"Rory..." He began, not sure what to say, knowing that nothing would make this ok. He reached out to touch her hand.
She shook his hand off and stood up, downing the coffee in front of her. "We'll talk later, Logan." She walked quickly out of the restaurant without a backwards glance.
"Fuck," he whispered, resting his forehead on the table, barely stirring when the waitress placed their breakfast plates in front of him.
Rory rushed back to Hartford, maintaining her speed at fifteen miles per hour over the limit. Someone had to make sure Lorelai didn't drink while she had a concussion, and she knew her father would quickly lose patience as a baby-sitter, if he hadn't already.
She pulled into the driveway, slamming her door on the way out of the car, and rushed into the house. "Dad?" she called out, not sure if she would get an answer.
"Rory," Christopher's agitated voice responded, "There you are. Where the hell have you been?"
She sighed. "At school," she said, rolling her eyes. "Yale? Remember that place?"
He glared at her. "Your sarcasm is not appreciated," he spat, his teeth gritted. "Why didn't you pick up your mother last night? Do you know how fucking embarrassing this is? You know at least one of the neighbors saw. Letty Hampton doesn't miss a fucking thing that goes on around here no matter what time. Do you imagine that she missed your mother nearly killing herself in her drunken haze? Do you think the whole neighborhood followed by this whole town isn't going to find out? Damn it, Rory. Do you even care what this will do to the business?"
She shook her head in annoyance. Of course he was only worried about what this would look like and how it would effect his precious business. "Where is she?" she asked, not bother to respond to his questions.
"Upstairs," he retorted tersely, "You're in charge of taking care of her. And do a better job than you did last night."
Rory swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She could be angry with her father all she wanted, but he was right. This was her fault. She should have gone the second she got the message from Mark. She could vaguely hear Logan's voice in the back of her mind, telling her this wasn't her responsibility and that she was killing herself, but she quickly pushed it away. She'd listened to him last night and look how that turned out.
She headed up the stairs and to her mother's room. Lorelai looked awful. There was an egg-sized lump on her forehead and huge dark circles under her eyes. She looked so broken and small. Her eyes were closed, but she stirred when she heard Rory enter the room.
"Hey, Mom," she said softly, "You ok?"
Lorelai's eyes opened. She glared. "Fuck you," she rasped, "Get me a drink."
Rory's face took on the emotionless look she'd perfected over the years. "I don't think that's a good idea," she responded, not allowing herself to feel any hurt. "Do you want some water or something?"
Lorelai just glared. Rory sighed. This was going to be a barrel of laughs. She took a seat in the chair at the other end of the room, pulling an untouched book from the bookcase and beginning to read.
Rory returned to Yale late Sunday night after a long two days spent in the presence of her sober and very cranky mother. She rubbed her temples with exhaustion, knowing that it would be a sleepless night. She had rushed home without taking any of her school work, which meant she would have to spend tonight preparing herself for tomorrow's classes.
She walked into her room, jumping when she noticed the unexpected body laying on her bed. She gave a sigh of relief when she recognized Logan's sleeping form. She walked over to him and shook him roughly.
"How did you get in here?" she asked, annoyed.
"You're here," he said with a yawn, blinking tiredly.
"It's my room," she stated, "What are you doing here?"
He sat up, beginning to realize that she was less than happy with his presence. "I knew you'd have to be back tonight," he explained, "I wanted to see you. Louise let me in. Are you ok? How's your mom?"
"Fine," Rory said, intending it to answer all of his questions. "You should probably leave though. I didn't have any of my books or notes at home. I'm going to be working all night. You won't be able to sleep." she gestured at the door, emphasizing her point.
"I don't mind," he responded, grabbing her hand and pulling her to him. He kissed her temple. "I missed you."
"That's sweet," she said dryly, pulling away. "But you'll distract me. I'll call you tomorrow or something."
Logan nodded, looking at the ground as he headed out of the room.
"Wait," Rory called after him. He turned around, a glint of hope lighting his brown eyes. "You forgot your stuff," she continued, gesturing at the bag of clothes and toiletries that was lying on her dresser.
"I was going to leave those here," he explained, "Like you suggested."
"Like I suggested?" she questioned, grabbing the bag and handing it to him. "I don't know what you're talking about."
His eyes filled with defeat, and he shook his head. "So I guess this is how it's going to be," he said, "I'm to blame for your mom getting hurt, and all the progress we've made, all the steps forward, are just out the window."
She looked at the ground. "I don't know what you're talking about. We're fine."
"Whatever, Rory," he spat, finally getting fed up, "Two days ago you were calling me your boyfriend, and now you can't even look at me. I can't handle this. I can't handle watching what this does to you, and I can't handle you jerking me around. I need a break. Call me when you figure your life out and how you want me to be part of it."
He grabbed his bag from her hand and headed out the door, a part of him hoping that she would call after him, that maybe he was as important to her as she was to him. She didn't.