Work Text:
In only five days, Rory Gilmore’s life had completely spiraled out of control.
Well, if she’s honest with herself, her life had been slowly slipping beyond the reach of her comprehension for several years now: a boyfriend she couldn’t bother to keep track of cut her loose via text message, she purposefully kept the love of her life at arm’s length, and her career was going nowhere while she lacked sufficient motivation to truly salvage it. She thought rock bottom was last season’s shameful one night stand with a Wookie, but Rory Gilmore’s once overachieving personality had a sense of humor and she managed to one-up even that.
Nothing was turning out the way it was supposed to. Rory Gilmore was a planner. Rory Gilmore was a doer. Rory Gilmore was supposed to be something by now. She was supposed to have it all. She was supposed to be the pride of the Gilmore clan, worthy of the name Lorelai, and have tangible successes she could point to and be proud of. But at 32, all she had was an Ivy League undergraduate education, a fair amount of guilt, a concept for a memoir that may or may not ever see publication, and a “Talk of the Town” article for The New Yorker (once upon a time, Rory viewed this article as the promising launch point of her career, but now she was starting to view the whole thing as a fluke example of “right place, right time”).
This was the sum total of her life in tangible objects: a Yale degree, some drafts of her (her mother’s) life story, a fluke article, a rocket that was once the symbol of her favorite love story, and this indecipherable black and white photograph that a too-bubbly nurse shoved multiple copies of into her hands five days ago.
A photograph of a blob that she didn’t know how to react to. Despite Lorelai’s best efforts, Rory Gilmore was her mother’s daughter.
Mother . Daughter . Simple words that had no room in her world. Her own mother never really settled into either role: too resistant to ever be daughter , too hesitant of authority to really be mother . Rory sees the similar divide when she looks in the mirror: too much of her life has been “responsible friend” to truly be daughter (this is probably why things are falling apart this late in the game). She didn’t even know what to do with this mother concept in relation to herself.
And of course, hovering in the shadow, is the most unfamiliar word. Father .
xXx
Dear Logan,
Humor me for a few minutes and let me paint you an image. The setting: an overnight transatlantic flight, Newark to Heathrow. Coach. It’s a full flight and somewhere, a baby is crying.
The subject: Blue-eyed, brunette lost girl and (former?) journalist. She’s fighting nausea in an aisle seat and penning this letter with a borrowed pen on the back of miscellaneous sheets of paper she found in her purse (she hopes you forgive this missal being scribbled on the backside of flyers and purchase confirmation sheets for yards and yards of tulle. The latter was for a wedding - she’ll tell you later).
In direct contrast to our heroine’s in-transition mess of a life, you will be the epitome of solidarity. I can’t help but imagine you reading this in your beautiful flat: you will look perfectly put-together, with a bemused smirk on your lips and a confused furrow on your brow. Your attention will be divided, bouncing between the terrified shell of a girl who showed up unannounced and the crumpled, mismatched letter clutched in your hands that contain a confession from the girl who cares more for your than she knows how to admit.
xXx
Long flights were miserable if you had a life you wanted to temporarily escape from.
She thought of running, just disappearing into a small English town. In her most naive daydreams, she envisions herself a prominent ex-pat author chasing a brown-eyed, brunette little girl along the rocky coast on a cloudy day. She’d live out the saccharine, full-circle ending to Lorelai’s story: running away to somewhere vaguely fairytale-esque and raising a daughter out-of-reality in the pages of books where plots unravelled and you had the luxury of watching someone else deal with the fallout.
But therein lies the problem: Rory Gilmore has spent too much of her life blaming Lorelai to follow in her footsteps now. The Lorelai Gilmore plan was to always run from the fallout: Christopher, Rory, Max, Emily, Richard, Luke, repeat ad infinitum . This is what Lorelai taught her daughter: how to run.
This is the cycle that Rory would break (it was too late for that other thing).
xXx
The drink cart that holds the ginger ale I’ve been guzzling just crashed into me. A jolt of reality. Oh, Logan, we’ve really made a mess of it, haven’t we?
I’m somewhere over the Atlantic (a view familiar to us both) and trying to decide if I feel guilty for telling Finn this news before you. You were right, you know? All those years ago when you assured me that Finn was a surprisingly insightful advice-giver. I didn’t believe you, because you were drunk and Finn is Finn. But I wouldn’t be on this plane if it wasn’t for him giving me the verbal ass-kicking I deserved a decade ago. He’s grown up a lot. So have you.
xXx
She takes the Tube, and then belatedly worries about the fumes. As she walks to her favorite coffee shop she berates herself for already failing at this. She’s stressed. Dehydrated. Craving a cup of coffee. She hasn’t slept a full night in days.
When she (with her awful decaf coffee) settles into a seat that awards her a view of the sidewalk and an opportunity for people-watching, she finally allows herself to think of Christopher.
Christopher, her father . Christopher who wasn’t around. Christopher who wasn’t given the chance to be around. Christopher the elusive phantom who sometimes used her to get to her mother. Five days ago, immediately after the black and white photographs were given to her, Rory visited Christopher. Asked him if he felt guilty, if he wanted to be a bigger part of her life.
It killed her a little when he said no; he thought that Lorelai raising her solo was written in the stars, a certain unavoidable fate. As much as that hurt, the conversation does provide Rory some perspective.
Christopher and Logan are different people in different situations. Christopher was 16 and afraid. Logan is 34 and has finally settled into the role he was destined to. Logan, despite the unfair comparisons drawn by Lorelai, was not Christopher. Logan will be a great dad, the little peeks she was awarded of him in “uncle mode” to Honor’s kids throughout the years proves this. Combine this with the number of times Logan has (despite his assertion that she doesn’t need it) rescued Rory over the years - he is going to be great. No matter their romantic situation, Logan won’t be a phantom to his child. He’s not Christopher.
Lorelai needs to let that go.
Honestly, Logan is not the half of the parental equation Rory is worried about.
Opposite Christopher stands Luke. Luke who was now ( finally! ) her step-father. Luke who had been her father figure. Luke who had been there for everything. Luke with the never-ending coffee, advice, and support. At some point in time, Logan became Rory’s Luke: reliable, supportive, a pillar. Luke had been cheated out of being a father to his biological daughter. Rory is not Logan’s Anna Nardini. This comforts her. At least, in telling Logan, she’s doing one thing right. Baby steps.
xXx
This whole thing started five days ago. Three copies of a blurry photograph were given to me by the real-life version of Fairy Princess Barbie, and it’s been a whirlwind ever since. In those five days, my mom got married (in true Lorelai Gilmore fashion, she had two ceremonies). I attempted to have a real conversation with my dad. I suffered caffeine withdrawal symptoms (at some point in my life, I should have taken someone seriously when they called me a junkie). I vomited a lot. I had a one-sided chat with grandpa (what I’d give to have him here for this, he’d be the most excited person in our lives). I had a stilted confession session with my mother (who is trying, but is really not thrilled about this whole thing).
I almost called you a hundred thousand times. But I chickened out every time. And then I talked to Luke. And then cried to Finn. They each listened to me cry and then scolded me for being afraid of you. They were right, you deserve to know and I deserve to not pull a Lorelai. This is news you should hear in-person (or via letter while I stand there and try not to vomit on you).
I really want to show you those blurry pictures. Because, I think you’ll help me make sense of them.
xXx
His door has never been this intimidating. For a brief moment, the dormant English major in her brain wakes up and analyzes the door as a symbol. A temporary wall meant to be opened, a place where two worlds meet.
One world is Rory’s: messy, noisy, and confusing - all tangled up in all other lives that orbit around her that she needs help shaking off and moving on from. Lorelai. Christopher.
Rory Gilmore has her own story. She just needs the bravery to find it. To live it. And Rory’s bravery has blond hair and brown eyes and is living out his dynastic plan on the other side of this wooden door that is mocking her.
Logan is on the other side of the door, living his life. Existing, for a few more minutes, in blissful ignorance of the kumquat-sized little miracle that has the potential to ruin the life he fought and negotiated so hard for. He helped write this dynastic plan. He gave Rory so many opportunities to be written into it. Rory was always too afraid to say yes - and now the situation is forcing her hand.
(The universe throws her a bit of luck as she has it on good authority that Odette is currently in France - she’s not on the other side of the door, it’s just Logan. Odette will not be further complicating the immediate situation.
She is and always has been thankful for Finn).
For a brief second, she thinks about the Life and Death Brigade and their beloved motto. As Rory knocks on the door, she contemplates the meaning of the word ready in relation to parenting. In relation to her as a parent.
What does it mean to be a parent?
xXx
Before everything changes, there are three things I need you to know. The first thing - the most important thing - is that you know that I love you. Logan, I love you. I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to say it, I don’t know why I’ve been so afraid of those words. But, I do. I love you. You don’t ever have to say it back to me.
The second thing: I’m so sorry. For everything. For holding you at arm’s length. For the Vegas agreement. For sweeping back into your life. Saying no all those lifetimes ago. I’m sorry for all of it. And today, for being here after that picture perfect goodbye. I’m, just, I’m so sorry.
The third thing: I’m not asking for anything. Not a promise. Not a cancelled wedding. Not money. Nothing. I’m here because I need to be and because you need to know. From here on out, you make your own decisions.
xXx
Rory fidgets while he reads the letter. He’s sitting on the couch, looking every bit the heir to a successful media corporation. She’s standing, chipping indigo polish from her fingernails. Rory Gilmore digs into her history and has set one rule for the meeting - something leftover from another letter to an old boyfriend: Logan is not allowed to utter a word until he reads the entire handwritten document. As tiny indigo specks rain down to the otherwise pristine floor, Rory muses back to Dean and Jess and broken wrists and that first letter. She’s amused for a second that she once thought that was a big deal.
Rory is taking mental notes for her memoir. At some point, she’s going to have to write the Logan chapter. She’ll need words for this moment. But before that, she’ll need to write - she’ll need to live - the Rory chapter. She’s been stuck in Lorelai’s story for too long.
“Rory,” his hoarse voice startles her as it cuts through her musings. He sounds the perfect combination of confused and concerned for her. His use of her name strikes her as poignant - even in his surprise, when he opened the door to her, he greeted her with a smirk and a gentle “Hey, Ace.”
He hasn’t finished the letter. Hasn’t yet gotten to the crumpled pink sheet of paper. One side of pink sheet advertises baton twirling lessons at Miss Patti’s, the other side holds the most important words of the letter. She’s not ready to talk yet. Not until he knows . Not until she’s told him. “No,” she whispers. “Keep reading. We’ll talk after, I promise.”
Logan’s response is a deep sigh, “Okay. But, Rory, sit down. Please.” He watches her, waits a few seconds while she debates whether or not sitting is a good idea. Eventually, exhaustion (and the look on his face) wins and she drags tired limbs to her favorite corner of his couch. Once she’s comfortable, he covers her with a throw blanket. “Rest, Ace,” he breathes as he lightly kisses her cheek.
Logan is an intelligent man. Rory has a hunch that, even though he hasn’t finished the letter yet, hasn’t read the two words, he knows exactly what’s going on.
xXx
Logan, I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant. Turns out, Colin’s New Hampshire property had some magic for us and the universe wasn’t ready for us to fully quit each other. Our baby is 10 weeks old. Healthy, despite its mother’s inability to care for herself. I found out five days ago. Don’t ask me how I’m feeling about it, okay? I’m terrified.
What happens now?
No matter what happens or what you choose to do with the news: I love you. Our child will love you, too. Be happy, Logan.
Yours (always),
Rory
xXx
The next few hours are a blur. Rory remembers the glint in Logan’s eyes when he looked up at her after reading. She remembers the choked, hesitantly optimistic tone in his voice when he carefully asks “You’re pregnant?” She supposes that he needed verbal confirmation.
They kiss (because that’s what they do when they’re sharing airspace). They argue (the insecure part of her isn’t ready to accept that he is willing to give up gorgeous heiress fiance in favor of unemployed ex-girlfriend. Logan doesn’t understand how Rory doesn’t see herself and their baby as worth it). They cry over the ultrasound photo (it is the dose of reality that the two of them need. This kumquat is real). Baby names are thrown around. Niamh, Brady, Tessa, Caden. They agree to stay away from Lorelai, the name is too heavy now. Rory is trying to free herself from Lorelai - if she has a daughter, she’s not going to put that pressure on her, too.
They decide that they are going to do this. This is how they are going to tackle being parents: one step at a time, doing what feels right for them (No more living for Mitchum or in the shadow of Lorelai. No pressure from Shira. Not haunted by Christopher).
This is how Rory Gilmore starts to live her own life.
xXx
P.S. Finn stole one of the ultrasound photos and has officially started his godfather campaign. Since I’m carrying this baby, I’m putting you in charge of “Uncle Finn” shenanigans.
xXx
Rory Gilmore decides that the next chapter of her story needs to be set in London. Logan’s life is settled there and Rory needs a change of scenery, so the decision is easy. The fallout is difficult. Emily and the Huntzbergers take it better than anticipated (time, Logan’s involvement in the company, and Honor’s children have softened them), which makes up for Lorelai taking it so, so badly.
Rory has a very difficult pregnancy. She’s so sick and so scared, and Lorelai is not sympathetic. Rory has a nice apartment and a rich boyfriend. She writes a manuscript and freelance articles from home and fills out graduate school applications. She’s not sixteen or homeless, so Lorelai doesn’t understand why this is so hard for Rory. Lorelai doesn’t approve of Logan, of London, of the Huntzberger’s attempts at involvement, of needing help with the baby. Their fighting gets so bad that Emily, on one of her visits to the cozy new townhouse, takes it upon herself to intercept all communication between her daughter and her granddaughter. Rory accepts maternal support from Shira, who mends bridges during Rory’s hospital visits and weeks of bedrest.
Logan is not Prince Charming, but he really, really tries. And it’s more than Rory could ask for. They bicker a little, but he comes home at the same time everyday (arms laden with paperwork, because he’s a work-dork). He holds her hair when she vomits and has the hospital on speed dial. He’s at every ultrasound appointment. He cries when they hear the heartbeat, when they find out it’s a girl, when he feels his daughter kick him for the first time. He sets aside his pride and calls Paris when he’s really scared for his daughter and girlfriend. He beams brighter than the sun when Rory says yes to his second proposal.
Something settles between them. Age, time, a baby, and finally allowing yourself to have what you want will do that. The old rocket sits the in the center of their mantle. In homage to the mismatched missal from the plane, Rory still periodically writes him little notes and letters that are left around the house.
xXx
Dear Logan,
Your daughter is going to be a handful, I hope you’re ready. This is probably payback for stealing that yacht a lifetime ago.
Add peonies to the list of flowers that we can’t have in the house anymore. Your mom brought over the most beautiful bouquet to celebrate my making it to the third trimester of this pregnancy, but it did not agree with me at all. I’m glad we’re not having the wedding until after this baby is born, at this rate I’m going to be stuck carrying succulents. Can you imagine Emily and Shira’s face - the outrage!
~Ace
xXx
Rory’s finishes a draft of her memoir a month before the baby is born. She sends a copy to Lorelai. The manuscript outlines two different lives, two different choices: Lorelai and Rory. They have the same name, same genes, same stubbornness, and same electric blue eyes, but they are different people. Rory Gilmore needed to see that. This is what heals her anxiety.
It’s clear that Eloise Laine Huntzberger takes after her father when she comes into the world two weeks early (Mitchum jokes that, given the amount of trouble this baby caused Rory during pregnancy, it was clear which parent’s personality she’d favor). Logan is the first person who holds her and Rory Gilmore could live in the look of awe and devotion that he rains onto their tiny princess.
xXx
Dear Logan,
Look, I am completely prepared to come in second-place to this baby for the rest of my life, but seriously? She gets a formula warmer and dispensing machine in her room, but the idea of my “push present” being a bedside coffee machine is outlandish? I made this sacrifice for your daughter, do you know hard it’s been?!
This isn’t over,
Rory
xXx
Because Ellie is early, there is no parade of visitors in the London hospital. Rory is glad for this. The new family is awarded a few days of quiet acclimation before guests start flying in. Uncle Finn and Aunt Lane spoil the little princess and promise that, as her godparents, that they will ensure she is always with good music, endless laughter, and sage advice (they also promise to serve as a “how to navigate your parents” guide when she gets older). Mitchum, Shira, Honor, Josh, and Ellie’s two cousins shower both mommy and baby with expensive gifts, attention, and advice. Emily is the first (other than Logan and Rory) who is able to lull the baby to sleep.
Lorelai visits, and it’s the first time in months that mother and daughter are on the same continent. Lorelai doesn’t mention the manuscript, but fawns over Ellie. It’s imperfect, but it’s enough; they need to learn how to navigate the necessary distance between them. They tease Luke for crying when he finally holds Eloise.
In those weeks, through the haze of guests, love, sleepless nights, and learning how to be a mom, Rory constantly finds herself pinching herself to make sure that this happiness is real. It is.
xXx
Dear Logan,
Happy Father’s Day! I wanted to make sure that you weren’t forgotten today. I know it’s Ellie’s first birthday and she’s absolutely going to steal your spotlight, but you really deserve some acknowledgement.
Thank you, Logan. For being our daughter’s favorite person (don’t start, everyone knows it’s true. I get it. Mother-daughter relationships in my family are cursed). For being my favorite person. For being the push I needed to live my own life the way I want.
Loving you, watching you be Ellie’s father is my greatest joy in life and I am so happy that we figured it out and that you are my partner in life. Our love story’s been a little unpredictable and a lot messy, but ultimately I have no regrets.
I love you. Today is just as much about you as it is our little princess.
Yours,
Rory