Chapter 4

                                    

                                          
AN: Small reminder - in this universe Rory never spoke to Christopher in AYITL Fall.
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Rory woke to the sound of Catherine swiping fallen branches off the porch that had fallen in last night's storm. 
The place felt like a fortress against the storms on most days - the waves and the winds clearly visible from the windows in daylight, yet the house remained strong, warm and safe. Despite the fact that it was already more lunchtime than morning, Rory didn't feel fully ready to drag herself downstairs, deciding to linger in bed for a while. That's how her days passed these days - sleeping until noon, working until late at night, somehow the darkness outside the window, and her knowing that the ocean was out there somewhere, offered her the cocoon she needed to get lost in the lines of her book. 
Rory's outing the other day, had indeed shown her that despite the fact that it had almost felt like it, the world hadn't come to an end just because she'd stayed hidden from the world for almost two weeks now, excluding the dream-like evening Logan's visit had been. The embrace of the house was exactly what she had needed, still did.
While she no longer felt offended by Logan's actions to marry someone else, as she had before without admitting it to herself, she did feel utterly stupid for not having asked for an explanation other than the 'dynastic plan' before, not having dared to talk to him. Still, she wasn't sure why, but talking to him about them still felt like a challenge. They'd barely touched the topic of the two of them in the past few years of 'Vegas' and even before, in college, communication had been the part to let them down before. 
She felt their phone conversation, hopefully the first of many, had been a start, but somehow Logan had managed to pour himself out to her in his letter, but she still struggled to do the same, to make promises, to talk about the future beyond a couple of weeks. She hated that she couldn't say those words. And that was something she'd always struggled with. Saying that she loved him came easily, as loving him had never really stopped, despite everything. Loving him didn't mean anything other than just that, it didn't create hopes or obligations. She'd loved him when he'd been far, when she'd thought he was unavailable, when he'd hurt her, when he'd made her choose when she hadn't wanted to choose. She needed to at least try to explain herself better, to make sense of herself.
She sat up in bed, pulled the robe that lay on the bed next to her onto her shoulders, while adjusting to the room temperature, and placed her laptop from the bedside table onto her knees, opening its lid. Instead of pushing forward on her book straight away, she opened a blank document attempting to write a letter. She didn't know if she'd ever send that letter, but she needed to try. And writing her thoughts always did come easier to her than speaking them, allowing her to retract and edit. Strangely enough, the letter didn't turn out so much as a letter, rather than a list of questions:
What were they, if they no longer were 'Vegas'?
What did that make her? 
He'd assured her that she'd never be the other women, and while the two of them might know that, there were probably few others that would see it that way.
Were they on hold? Were they exclusive? Were casual relations as he'd noted, with Odette, still acceptable? 
She felt like she really didn't have a lot of right to object to the latter, especially without promises on her side, but she cringed at the thought nonetheless. Sharing him had only worked when she could pretend to be oblivious, as if that part of his life didn't truly exist. It hadn't worked when they first started seeing each other - why had she ever thought it'd work now that they were adults? Was it just the distance that had made her think that? Just the stupid attempt to lie to herself?