AN: So I know there are already some of these stories out here, and I know that there will inevitably be dozens more. I also know that Worlds Together and LAWKI desperately need updating--but for my own piece of mind I had to fix what this mess the writers created in a way that was satisfying to me. I had to write something that would give me, and hopefully all of you, some hope that, when all is said and done, it will all work out for out favorite couple. After all--doesn't everyone deserve a happy ending?

Anyhow, I hope you enjoy it--it's just a one-shot, I won't be writing more for this. Hopefully, though, this little exercise will help me through my writer's block so that I can get you guys some updates on my other stories. Don't worry, I won't be abandoning them anytime soon.

Logan sat slumped on the sofa in his new apartment—unpacked boxes littered the floor around him. The TV was on, and if asked, he could probably tell you the news was airing, but he really wasn't paying attention; he had enough on his mind without thinking about some jack-knifed tractor trailer causing back-up on the freeway.

It had been one week since he'd moved to San Francisco and two weeks since her graduation. That meant two weeks since he'd spoken to her; seen her; had her stomp all over his heart He wasn't enough for her. She had all these doors open to her and she hadn't chosen which door she wanted, but she had chosen which she didn't. She didn't want him. She didn't want a life with him. She didn't want to marry him. Oh sure, she'd said that she still wanted to be with him—but for how long? How much longer would she stay with him—make him fall harder and harder, before she realized that she was done falling and that the landing just didn't have the impact it had for him? He wanted to believe—to believe that someday she'd be ready to start a life with him; but he just didn't. She was his "it", but he wasn't hers.

Sometimes he thought it would be enough—to talk to her on the phone, spend occasional weekends and long holidays with her, make love to her whenever he had the chance (as infrequent as it may be). He always believed in fighting for what he wanted—he had always fought for her, for them—but there came a time when you knew you were fighting a losing battle and you just had to let go. She deserved to have everything she ever wanted, and if he couldn't give that to her by being with her, then he'd give it to her by letting her go.

He sighed, and sank further into the couch. He was depressed, lost in self pity, consumed by loneliness. A few weeks ago this town had held so much promise—promise of a new life, with a job he cared about, a destiny he controlled himself, and the woman he loved by his side. But now it was bleak, gloomy, and completely lacking in hope. She had been the reason for all of these changes he'd made in his life—well maybe not the reason, more like…the impetus. Either way, none of it meant what it was supposed to without her to share it with. This apartment wasn't helping; it was dreary and lifeless and it made him want to hurl heavy objects through the walls. Of course he was pretty certain that any living environment that was anything less than that little house with the backyard and the avocado tree—and Rory—would be just as miserable as his current situation.

Knock knock!

Logan let out a frustrated grunt. It was probably another one of his neighbors wanting to welcome him to the neighborhood. People in California were annoyingly friendly. Couldn't they just leave a man to wallow in peace?

Logan forced himself up from his seat and trudged over to the door of his apartment, swinging it open. He looked at his visitor and sighed. "What are you doing here, Rory?"

"I'm not ready to get married."

Logan tried unsuccessfully not to roll his eyes. Did she seriously fly all the way across the country just to tell him that? Newsflash; he already got that memo. He couldn't deal with this—he couldn't deal with her. Seeing her only made everything hurt a thousand times worse. "I think you made that perfectly clear when you said no, and handed the ring back. You said something about marrying me closing off the world to you."

"I'm not ready to get married," she repeated, "but that doesn't mean I don't want to marry you."

"Excuse me if you're not making any sense," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

"You talk about avocado trees and jobs at the Chronicle and coffee drinking on University Avenue and it all sounds amazing, every last bit of it. I can picture sitting in that yard, under that tree with you; I can picture leaving the Chronicle at the end of a long day and coming home to you and laying on the couch together while you watch CSI-whatever city the think of next, and I re-read an old classic. But when I picture it, I picture it five years in the future. When I look at tomorrow, I picture new experiences; I picture opportunity and craziness and uncertainty. The whole 'married life' thing is so…stable, and routine and my whole life I've done stable and routine. I want something different, just for a little while. I'm not ready to settle down yet. But that doesn't mean I don't want you in my life—I do; I need you in my life. All these new experiences I'm picturing—I'm picturing sharing them with you."

Logan bit his tongue to keep from smiling at her rant, she was always so cute when she ranted, but he couldn't give in. No matter how adorable her crazy babbling was, in the end it all boiled down to one thing—she wasn't going to marry him.

"I was serious about what I said, Rory, I can't move backwards. I can't do the long distance thing. When I said all or nothing, I meant it, not because I was trying to force you into something you weren't ready for, but because it's really how I felt. Being with you without really being with you; not knowing if or when we'll ever really be together; I can't handle that. I need some sort of guarantee—some indication that this relationship means as much to you as it does to me and that at the end of the day, the end of the week, the end of our lives that we'll be together, otherwise, what are we wasting our time on?

Rory moved to enter the apartment but he blocked her. She stepped back again, apparently accepting his reluctance to let her in; to reopen the door to him—at least for the moment. "And nothing short of putting that ring on my finger will prove that to you?"

"If you really wanted to be with me, that wouldn't be so hard to do."

"It would mean moving out here."

"Yeah," he admitted.

"It would mean leaving my Mom—my whole family, my friends, everything I've ever known."

"Not everything," he reminded her, looking her straight in the eyes.

She shrugged her shoulders. "No, you're right—not everything."

"I know how much your family means to you, and I don't want you to give them up. We could visit them all the time."

"It's really far away, Logan."

"I know it is, and I know that it would be the hardest part for you, but if you really wanted this—you'd find a way. It's really just logistics—we'd work it out."

"We will," she smirked at him.

"Yeah, I mean…" Logan trailed off, cocking his head to the side, and staring at her, contemplating her words. "Wait, we will? As in the definitive sense of the word 'will?'"

"Well, we've got to figure something out—I don't think the nice people at the Chronicle will let me work from Stars Hollow."

"The Chronicle?"

"It was one of your suggestions, wasn't it?"

"What are you saying? I mean, you're not saying…"

Rory shook her head. "I told you I'm not ready to get married, and that hasn't changed."

"Then what are you trying to accomplish here, Rory?" he asked angrily. Was she seriously just playing games with him now? She couldn't be that cruel.

"I'm not ready to get married, but this is my proof—my proof that someday I will be. This is my guarantee that this relationship means as much to me as it does to you and that at the end of the day, the end of the week, the end of our lives—we'll be together." She took a step forward, and this time he moved to the side as she stepped inside his apartment.

"We don't have to bike at the Baylands, you know, it was just a suggestion," he told her as he shut the door and followed her in.

"Biking doesn't sound so bad; I said I wanted to experience new things, didn't I?" she said, turning to smile at him. "Hey, do you think we could get a little, potted avocado tree and put it out there?" she asked, pointing to the sliding glass doors that led to a small balcony over looking the city.

"Well, you do like guacamole." He reached out to grab her hand and stop her forward motion, pulling her around to face him.

"Mmm, yes, I really love guacamole," she replied in a low, husky voice as she leaned in to capture his lips in a soft embrace. He smiled into the kiss—maybe this apartment wasn't a miserable as he thought.

Psst--just a suggestion, but now would be a good time to leave a review. ;)