A "Life or Death" Marriage

He Knows Their Story

Logan - 6 years after Rory's graduation

Everyone knows the story. Their story. Everyone knows how it ended. He hates that there's this 'end' to it all. She put 'the end' and he slammed the book and buried it on the shelf. He hates how it haunts him and every book he's touched, every story he's shared, every memory he held.

He loathes how he clings to the thread that he treasures in the dark. Hope and longing are things he never believed in, criticized those that did. It was weakness until he understood she was his strength. Every thought that crossed his mind, he forced them back. He thought he was losing his mind, being ridiculous, and going insane for something that happened to long ago. Except that day, that week, that month.

Today was that day, that week, that month. He despised today of all brokenhearted days.

In the midst of self-loathing and frustration, the gloomy weather of London did no help for his sanity and his wondering thoughts.

Thoughts about her. She was a constant thought flitting through his mind as often as his twelve o'clock shadow appears after his dragging days at work. His Ace. Hell or high water, missed her. He would not publicly admit that so despairingly when his mother is beyond thrilled at her new match for him. Not, that either were thrilled to be matched up four years ago.

At least she was a distraction from his ex. He hated that too. Ex. It just was too... brutally honest... a fact... something so... final. But his new match--lasted two society events--understood. She was in a similar, but not quite as finalized situation as his previous relationship was.

It took him three years to accept the fact she said no. Another year to accept that it was over and that he walked away with a shattered heart, a bleeding pride, and a hollow soul. He focused on himself a lot during that time in Palo Alto. Then his father suffered a heart attack and the board members were pushing him back to the company. He proved himself enough apparently, not that they really need to know that the start up was selling to a bigger name, competition to the Huntzberger Group. When news on the East the heir was going to the competition all hell broke loose. It was a half-hearted groveling attempt, but Logan was in a hole and he needed out and away. He did well there before and it was better then the memory infused cities on the East.

So here he was in his corner office with a view, sitting back in his comfortable office chair that he picked out to replace the heinously intimidating leather mafia chair that was carbon copy of his dad's. He kicked that thing out at the first sight and request for remodel. He used one the extra office chairs for the writers. After five days until he got his desired chair, he reorder the staff better chairs because by hell or high water he wasn't going to deal with the racked up chiropractor bills for the next fiscal period of his new company salary much less the productivity of his foreign staff members.

Logan couldn't hold up his focused work mode and stared at his second computer screen as it fell to sleep in a slideshow of memories. His sister and him growing up, secret birthdays, sub parties, him and his friends at various boarding schools and gorgeous sites across the world, the LDB, Yale... there she sat cuddled into his side in her ducky pajama pants and a t-shirt she stole from him on his apartment couch in New Haven. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun and she had a small smile on her face that contrasted her tear stains and the tissues that surrounded them amid the weighted blanket and knitted throw. He remembered that day. It was the evening after Richard was admitted to the hospital for his first heart attack. He convinced her that she needed to get into comfy clothes and cry it out with some actual dinner. Lorelai had agreed with him surprisingly. It faded away when he blinked and he now stared at a foreign face. He was sixteen taking a picture with three party girls and Finn was toasting in his pink leopard speedo in the middle of a cold front February.