Pre- I Get A Sidekick Out of You 'I'm ready now,' she thinks to herself. She's ready to finally forgive him. She couldn't before --- it had all been so new, she had barely enough time to be angry before he was knocking on the door, pleading for her forgiveness. She loves him. She knows she loves him, she can feel it in her bones, as she looks at him, even when she's mad at him. She's ready. She gets off from class early; it's an evening class, and her professor has a party or something to go to. So she stops by the grocery, buying everything she'll need to prepare a 'You're forgiven' feast. She grabs a bottle of wine, and heads back to the apartment, the apartment she still isn't able to call home; it's still 'Logan's apartment,' or something of the like, never 'our apartment.' She doesn't think much about that, though. She imagines the lovely evening they'll have, the quiet dinner, the laughter and loving looks shared over a bottle of wine. Then, they'll make love in their bed, on those wonderful egyptian cotton sheets she loves so much. He'll quietly murmur, "I love you," in her ear, and then they will both drift off to sleep. She lets herself in, using the special key he had made for her, smiling to herself. That's when she hears it. Muffled moans, squeaking bedsprings, the rustle of egyptian cotton sheets. Oh, no. No. She wishes briefly, ridiculously, that somehow Finn or Colin have broken in with their latest conquest. Or maybe a burglar. Or maybe it was the TV. Or maybe Logan was jerking off. It was a possibility, they hadn't really had sex since the incident, so... Or maybe it's... She creeps over to the door (which is wide open), and gasps. It's Logan. With a girl. The girl. Not just any girl--- a girl she knew, a girl she was friends with. While she wasn't about to give her half of a best friends necklace, she knew her, they knew each other, and this girl knew that Logan belonged to Rory. And they're doing exactly what she was afraid they would be doing. He looks up, after what seems like the longest time, and he almost seems...annoyed, like he's really upset that he's been interrupted and what do you want? Then he sees who it is, that it's her standing before him and his eyes widen, almost comically, and then she's running, faster than she's ever run before in her life, tearing down the stairs (screw the elevator), sprinting to her car like a madwoman. He's chasing after her, ridiculous bathrobe wrapped loosely around him, yelling all kinds of ridiculous excuses like "Well we haven't had sex in so long," and "I didn't think you were ever going to forgive me!" among the I'm sorrys. She glares at him, the meanest glare she can muster up, then tears out of her parking space. She drives for awhile, just turning anywhere, not really paying any attention to where she's going. Hours pass. She's so... disappointed, really, and angry at herself because she should've known that he was going to do something like this, he was going to let her down so royally because he could just not be trusted. She thought... she thought they were gonna get married or something, that he was the one for her, and that they would be together for the rest of their lives, until they were old and wrinkled! She's imagined a big Richard-and-Emily-style romance for the two of them, becoming engaged near one of the benches at Yale, married after graduation, bonded together for life. She imagined taking his name, walking down the aisle, their honeymoon in Australia. She imagined all the places they would travel to, all the exotic places they would see together, the memories that they would share. She could see their life together in the future, her a foreign correspondent, he a successful editor at one of his father's newspapers. They'd be a journalistic super couple, envied and loved. She would imagine their little blonde-haired blue-eyed babies, beautiful, special, smart. But now... No babies. No future. No wedding, no super-couple. Just Logan... and Rory, no LoganandRory. He couldn't change, she supposed, and she needed to let him go. She drives over to her mother's house, slipping quietly in, slipping in between the cool sheets, laying her head on the pillow she's had since she was seven. She cries for awhile, sobbing violently, and that's what wakes her mother up. Then, her mother, her mommy, holds her and strokes her hair like she did when she was a little girl. The next day, they mourn.